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pprodsuga · 11 months ago

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tides of regret | heeseung

summary: in the year since heeseung first rejected your love confession, you've tried everything to get over him. a trip to europe makes you realize you miss your former best friend more than anything, and it makes heeseung realize he's got it all wrong.

notes: aaand she's here! this is 24.4K words worth of my heart and soul. consider this a token of my appreciation for welcoming me on enhablr. i sincerely hope you enjoy it. <3

deep cuts: #1

warnings: angst/internal self doubt, playful banter, dirty talking, praise, slight degradation, oral (m and f receiving), dry humping, fingering, mentions of exhibitionism and face sitting, nipple sucking, spit, brief moment of anal (tongue only), condom removal, unprotected sex, creampie.

For @enha-stars – may this story rip you apart and stitch you back together.

masterlist

Incheon feels lonely at three in the morning.

The overhead lights being turned off because of the lack of travelers at this hour makes the airport feel bigger than it actually is. It��s too quiet without the familiar sounds of luggage wheels on the linoleum or overhead speakers announcing flight changes every ten minutes. You don’t think you’ve ever been to an airport so early in your life.

It’s quiet enough to leave you alone with your bothersome thoughts. In the years you’ve been away from home as you studied abroad, you can’t help but feel a gravitational pull towards life in Seoul and the people in it. The familiarity of your home outweighs the adventure you once yearned for in your youth, and now you’re left with the exciting notion that, this time, you’ll know when you’ll be coming back.

The terminal has an abundance of seating. Your backpack rests on the seat beside you as Jay double checks the gate number while the rest of your friends find a spot on the seats next to you, attempting to find an ounce of comfort in the dimly lit area.

“I know leaving early saved us hundreds of dollars, but I need sleep,” Sunghoon says from beside you. His usually well kept hair falls in all sorts of places like he woke up without a second thought and hailed a taxi the minute he opened his eyes.

“You’ll thank me later,” Jay says. “We can sleep on the plane.”

“Our flight doesn’t leave for another two hours,” Jake whines from beside him as he yawns. “How am I supposed to sleep on these god forsakes chairs?”

“Quit whining and try,” Jay retorts. He looks behind him to see the rest of your friend group approach before glancing over to you. “Doing okay?”

“How come Y/N gets preferential treatment?” Jake beckons.

“Because she isn’t a nuisance like you,” Jay immediately fires back before diverting his attention towards you again.

“I’m alright,” you say, stifling a yawn behind your hand. “Just cold and sleepy.”

“Hopefully they turn off the damn AC,” Sunghoon says as he pulls his sweatshirt over his head. “I feel like my veins are being injected with ice.”

“It’ll warm up when more people come,” Jay reasons. “I wish there was a coffee stand that was open. I need a cup.”

“I could go for one,” you agree. “I’m trying to stay awake for the next couple of hours so I can sleep on the plane.”

The rest of your friend group appear behind Jay and you look down to check your phone for any notifications when Heeseung catches your eye. It takes you by surprise and you abruptly look back at your screen and busy yourself by aimlessly scrolling through social media as he attempts to occupy the empty seat beside you, but Jake beats him to it.

“I’m gonna freeze to death and then all of you are gonna have to deal with my frozen body.” Jake dramatically slouches down onto the seat until his head finds your shoulder, nuzzling his cheek as if trying to find comfort in you. “Jesus, Y/N, you’re so warm.”

You laugh. “I wore layers.”

“You’re gonna regret that when we get on the plane,” Jake mumbles.

Heeseung, from the corner of your eyes, opts to move to the seats in front of you. You try not to pay him any mind.

You snort. “Yeah, well I can take these layers off while you freeze until you become an icicle.” Jake hums when you let your head fall onto his.

“You know I’m not built for the cold. Australia’s my home.”

“And yet you moved to Korea,” Sunghoon provokes.

Jungwon and Riki are rummaging through the bag of snacks you’d brought for an early breakfast until the restaurants and coffee stands around you open up. Jake’s right, it’s far too cold to stop shivering, but you suppose you’re grateful that the discomfort distracts you from sleeping too early.

“I can’t believe we’re finally going on this trip,” Sunoo says from above you. With your head still on Jake’s, you turn to look at the boy speaking. “I’m really excited for you to show us where you’ve been for the past four years.”

A tiny smile graces your lips. “I’m excited to show you around London and Paris. The latter is a two hour train ride. My friends and I would go every few weekends or so to explore the city. Pictures and videos don’t do them justice.” You sigh as you reminisce. “I really did think that I’d end up living there when I graduated.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Missed home too much, I guess.” You shrug. “Though, I can’t believe Riki went through a growth spurt in the last two years that I was gone.”

“You went back to Okayama before Y/N came back for holiday break, right?” Jungwon asks, looking between the both of you.

“That’s right,” Riki says. “I was sad that I couldn’t see you before you went back to school.”

“Now he’s twice my height.” You gesture at the younger boy. He’s too shy with the sudden affection and chooses to bury his head in Jungwon’s shoulder. “You were so little.”

“Shut up,” he mumbles.

“I can’t believe you’re fluent in English now.” Jungwon pushes Riki off of his arm. “You, Jake, and Jay are kind of scary when you speak English.”

“It was a little hard at first. I used to watch a lot of American cinema so I could understand it better than I could speak it. But I can’t lie, it’s fun being able to talk to them in English.”

“You were so cute trying to string phrases together during your first summer back,” Jay coos. “Texting her in English was funny because she couldn’t understand the difference between spelling.”

“Poor Jake.” You pull your head from his and look down at him. “You probably had aneurysms looking at my grammar.”

You lift your head to see that the aforementioned has fallen asleep amongst the conversation with his mouth slightly ajar and soft snores echoing past your ear. You don’t move when Jay asks if you want Jake off of your shoulder, but you shake your head.

Conversation falls flat when the group unanimously decides that sleepiness is overtaking the need to socialize. Jay keeps checking his watch to look out for the time while your eyes try to look anywhere but at Heeseung.

It’s odd, the way two people can lose a friendship overnight. The heartbreak that came with romantic rejection wasn’t nearly as bad as realizing texts and phone calls were far fewer in between the moment you had arrived back in Europe to finish your studies. It hurt to know that neither one of you felt comfortable enough to see each other when you were back in your hometown unless the two of you were invited to hang out with mutual friends.

Still, seeing Heeseung after he had rejected your confession felt like a punch to the gut.

Long gone were the days of being able to send him unimportant updates about your life abroad or what you were doing at any given summer day back home. You couldn’t ask him to go to the restaurants you used to frequent near his house or yours. You certainly couldn’t call him at random hours because you were bored and missed his voice.

It wasn’t for the lack of trying. It felt like things might've gone back to normal after a short period of not talking, but your texts going unanswered and your calls going to voicemail was all you needed to know.

Perhaps it’s why you’re comfortable spearheading this vacation with Jay, who had made it a point to visit you in London when you’d chosen to stay behind instead of going home for the holiday break. The two of you had never spent time alone prior to then, but it touched you that he’d go out of his way to dedicate an entire day to visit you when he was there for a family vacation.

Coming back to Korea the summer after graduating felt like you were making the right choice, even if your head was telling you to find a home in Europe. Still fresh from your unresolved rejection, stepping off of the plane and knowing you wouldn’t be returning back to your university’s town made the uncomfortable reality of coming face-to-face with Heeseung sink in. You’d have to live with the consequences.

But it’s been eight months since you returned, six months since Jay’s dad was gracious enough to offer you a position on his marketing team, and five months since he encouraged your entire friend group to take a trip to your old stomping grounds.

The proposition felt too sudden, especially with how little experience you had working with his team, but you’d spend an evening with the Park family for him to consider you an honorary member. Though, you’re sure Jay might’ve told him something happened between you and Heeseung, especially after telling everyone you wouldn’t be coming home for the holidays.

To this day, you haven’t uttered a single word to your friends about what happened the night Heeseung rejected your love confession. If you know him as well as you think you do, you don’t think he's told anyone either.

“Cafes are opening up,” Jay notes. Sunghoon’s ears perk up. “Three of us should go get food and drinks while the rest save our seats.”

The airport overhead lights must’ve turned on while you were deep in thought. Jay’s right, the coffee stands have opened and it’s likely due to the new influx of travelers who’ve arrived at the airport. Foot traffic is still light and you know Jay wants to get ahead of the crowd.

Jake has woken up because of the growing murmur around him and lifts himself off of your head to wipe the sleep out of his eyes. He yawns once more but tries his best not to fall asleep again.

“How long was I out?”

“Twenty minutes, give or take,” Sunghoon answers.

“Sorry for sleeping on you,” Jake apologizes.

“It’s okay. You needed it.” He scrunches his face, not used to the new lighting. “Jay, I’ll come with you to get coffee. I need to stretch my legs.”

“I’ll help as well.” Heeseung speaks for the first time in a while and his voice nearly catches you off guard.

“Sure.” Jay gathers everybody’s orders before the two of you follow him around the terminal.

The line isn’t unbearably long, but with Heeseung towering behind you, it feels like you’ve been standing for hours. You shift from one foot to the other in order to find a happy medium to no avail. Jay orders for the group and you pay attention to him more than you care to when you realize Heeseung is now standing beside you to make room for more people to wait in line. He’s considerate like that and you hate it.

When the baristas are finished with your order, you reach for the bag of sandwiches in your haste to escape Heeseung. But your fingers touch the steam and you drop the bag into the counter with a hiss.

“Careful,” Heeseung says. “Don’t get hurt, please.”

Your clumsy nature was always something he teased you for. Heeseung sounds so sincere about his worry that you think you’d rather him pour all of the hot coffee on you instead.

“Thanks.” You grab the bag with so much as a single moment of eye contact before realizing Jay has started walking back.

Breakfast is eaten in silence. Everyone is too tired to speak, save for Jake whose twenty minute nap has rendered him a little more awake than the rest of you. You and Sunghoon share your egg sandwich and chocolate croissant respectively without a word spoken between the two of you.

Meanwhile, Heeseung is staring at the way your thighs are close to Sunghoon’s. He had shifted his body closer to yours in order to form a makeshift table so that sharing pastries wouldn’t result in crumbs on the floor. You can feel Heeseung's gaze on your kneecap and it makes your face flush.

Sunoo and Jake offer to throw everybody’s trash away when you’re all done eating. The airport is in full swing by now and everyone has said their graces and apologized to Jay for giving him a hard time with how early they arrived.

It seems that sleep has threatened to overtake you. You’re waiting in line to scan your plane ticket and board the aircraft, but the sudden warmth of the airport has caused you to yawn a few too many times. Riki’s standing in front of you and his height makes for a perfect makeshift wall to lean on. Or, that’s what your tired brain is telling you, because you slouch forward and let your cheek rest against his back as you close your eyes.

“Sleepy girl,” you hear him chuckle. You merely nod in acknowledgement.

Your comfort is short lived when he softly nudges you because the line has moved. Soon, you scan your ticket and give the airline agent a smile as thanks before waiting to set foot on the aircraft.

Sunghoon notices your dropped shoulders and wordlessly takes your backpack off of you.

“You don’t need to do that,” you say with a frown when you see Sunghoon carrying your belongings with him.

“Let me hold it,” says Sunghoon. “You look like you’re about to fall over with the extra weight.”

“If you insist.”

“Let us take care of you, yeah?” Jay interrupts, bumps his shoulder with yours. “You’ve been running all over Europe these past four years and we’ve only seen you a handful of times. You deserve to relax on this trip.”

“I can’t believe you guys are being so sweet on me. I know that’s ending the second we get back to Korea.”

The two boys laugh. “Well, it’s only fair, I guess. You’re like, the mom friend.”

“Jay is the mom friend.” The aforementioned doesn’t argue.

The squeeze of the aircraft is tight and you’re desperately trying to look for your seat. It seems that Sunghoon is sitting in your row, which excites you, but you’ve come to realize that you’ve obtained the ungodly middle seat. You make peace with it for a brief moment before Heeseung clears his throat awkwardly.

“Let’s switch seats,” he says from behind you. His ticket shows the window seat right next to yours. “I know you hate middle seats.”

“No, I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“You’re not asking.” He says it with a smile and it makes you cower into yourself. “You should move to your new seat so we don’t hold up the line.”

Heeseung suggests it in a way that is reminiscent of the days where he’d give up his sweet treats because you wanted a taste. It tugs at your heartstrings but you don’t have time to think about that when you notice how the plane is starting to fill up.

Reluctantly, you slide into the window seat while Heeseung and Sunghoon follow suit. Your seat belts are buckled and in no time, the aircraft takes flight.

For the next hour, Heeseung looks like he wants to say something to you. The headphones you've brought do well to cancel out the noise, for the most part. You can see from the corner of your eye that he glances at you from time to time, but you ignore it and choose to get comfortable for the long haul.

When you notice the flight attendants come with the beverage cart, you take it as a cue to get comfortable and try to get some sleep for the next few hours. Likely due to the lack of sleep from the night prior, you fall asleep as soon as your head rests against the plane.

You don’t hear Heeseung requesting an extra bottle of water for you.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

When you come to, you’re barely able to register that it’s time to eat the first meal on the flight. You take your headphones off and put it in your backpack as you blink the sleep out of your eyes.

“Chicken or beef?”

Heeseung looks at you, expecting an answer.

“Hm?”

He laughs softly. “Chicken or beef?”

Your eyes dart between him and the flight attendants when you realize they’re about to approach.

“I heard them asking people which meal they want,” Heeseung explains. “So, chicken or beef?”

“Beef.” You clear your throat.

“Beef it is.”

Sunghoon requests chicken when the flight attendant arrives. Heeseung orders beef for the both of you before you get the chance. If he notices you looking at him strangely, he doesn’t comment on it.

The food comes quicker than expected and the meal tastes decent, though you’re trying your best not to elbow Heeseung as you cut away at your portion. He seems engrossed in the movie in front of him while you peek at what he’s watching—Iron Man, to no one’s shock.

You soften a bit at the nostalgia that comes with Heeseung and Marvel, namely the rainy days in your youth spent marathoning the superhero movies. There had been one year in high school when he’d dressed up as Tony Stark and you as Pepper Potts despite a few girls your age whispering behind your back at the matching costumes out of jealousy. You don’t think you can think of the franchise without thinking of Heeseung.

The memories almost bring a smile to your face. Heeseung seems to notice you glancing at his screen in between bites. You avoid eye contact when you realize he caught you staring and focus on cutting your meal, praying that Heeseung will stop looking at you and watch the movie instead.

But he takes one earbud out and holds it to you.

“Do you want to watch it with me?” He’s halfway through. You tell him such but he doesn’t care.

“I don’t want to jump in halfway through.”

“Come on, it’s not like you haven’t done that before.”

Heeseung says it with such nonchalance that it makes your stomach drop. He sees the way your eyes falter for a moment and the way you glance between his hand and the screen. You try to come up with excuses to refuse his offer, but you’ve got eight more hours until you land.

“Sure,” you settle. Heeseung gives you one headphone and resumes watching.

Between the meals being picked up and tray tables being put away, you manage to fall asleep in your seat. Sunoo sits in front of you and upon coming back from a quick bathroom trip, sees your head resting on Heeseung’s shoulder with his cheek propped on your head. The two of you are fast asleep despite the credits rolling and he can’t help but snap a quick photo.

You wake up some hours later when Sunghoon says your name. The cabin lights turning on temporarily blinds your vision as you wake up when you realize you’d managed to push yourself back enough to rest yourself against Heeseung’s arm.

“Oh God,” you say in shock, pulling yourself and the seat upright. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”

“It’s okay,” he replies, like he means it. “Sleeping on planes is uncomfortable. But I know you know that.”

You nod. “Yeah. It's too hard to get comfortable.”

“I can’t believe we’re spending two weeks in Europe. I’ve never been outside of Korea and Japan before. You’ll have to help me with my English.”

“Jay or Jake can also help with that.” You say it with a yawn and Heeseung’s eyes cast to the floor for a brief moment. You barely notice, gathering your own belongings as the flight descends.

“Yeah, I guess they can.”

When you land, the familiar disorientation of the time difference truly wakes you up. It’s eleven in the morning when the plane door finally opens and Jay’s moving a step ahead of you as he occupies space in the aisle way to grab his belongings. You follow suit and wait for your turn to exit amongst your friends and other travel goers.

Stepping out of the plane and into the familiar terrain of the Heathrow Airport reignites your attentiveness and you smile at the fond memories of being greeted by your university friends upon arriving. The familiar atmosphere of English travelers milling around the gate warms your chest with nostalgia.

You wait for the boys to emerge before signaling Jay, who follows beside you as you walk towards the baggage claim area. You lead him with little trouble down the escalator as the rest of your friends follow suit, yawning in an attempt to wake themselves up.

“It’s weird seeing you in your element,” Jay comments as he stands beside you, periodically checking the turnstile for his luggage. “A good kind of weird.”

“This airport might as well be my second home,” you tell him. “It feels routine to wait for my luggage at this point.”

“I’m tempted to sleep when we get to the hotel but I don’t want to mess up my sleep schedule more than it already is.” Jay pulls his luggage.

“Yeah, that’s smart. I think we should take an hour to freshen up and find a place to eat before we go exploring.”

“I can already hear Jake whining about it.”

The two of you share a laugh. “He’ll just have to get used to it. We can have an early night and rest up before we explore tomorrow.”

“He slept on the plane, for the most part,” Jay informs. “Surprisingly, he didn’t snore as loudly as he usually does.” He spots your luggage and takes it off of the belt for you.

On the other side of the carousel, Heeseung and Sunoo are standing together to find their own luggages.

“You guys looked pretty cozy,” Sunoo comments. “It was nice seeing you two like that again.”

“It felt nice,” he mutters. “I really missed her.”

Heeseung doesn’t have to tell Sunoo what happened between the two of you for him to know that you two aren’t as close as you used to be. The older boy feels nearly ashamed that his own friends have caught up on his awkward demeanor.

“Well, she’s back for good and we’re here on vacation. Try not to dwell on whatever it is that’s making you think too hard.”

Heeeung laughs. “I’ll try, Sunoo. It’s just hard when we’re not as close. How can I compete when we’re in her college town and how will I talk to her in Paris?”

“Well, you never know,” Sunoo says as he picks up his luggage. “Anything can happen in the City of Love.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The hotel itself is modest in size. Quaint, old cobblestone surrounding the entryway like you remember it. The people are busy walking in and out of the meeting rooms in the lobby as you walk to the concierge to sort out the rooming situation. Jay stands beside to help distribute the keys and the employee behind the desk bids you a good stay.

The view from the fifth floor is spectacular already. You catch glimpses of the streets of London below you, street lights decorating the sidewalk and flowers surrounding the city. This feels like the London you remember and it adds a slight pep in your step.

“Alright, it’s decided that three of you are gonna share,” you say as you reach the first room. “The other four will be split into two rooms and I’ll get a room for myself.”

“That’s not fair,” Jake huffs.

“I refuse to share a room with any of you.” You pocket the key to the single bedroom. “Plus, Jay’s mom helped me make the arrangements when we planned the trip.”

“Favoritism,” Jake coughs. You nudge his side.

“To make it fair, everyone will pick up a key card without knowing the room number and flip it. That’ll determine who you room with.”

“Alright,” Jungwon says. “Fair enough.”

One by one, your friends pick their key cards and discover their roommates. Jake, Sunoo, and Riki are the unlucky three who will be rooming together for the duration of the week. Jay and Sunghoon are in the room directly across from theirs while Heeseung and Jungwon share a room.

“Let’s meet at the lobby in an hour,” Jay suggests. “We can get some lunch and do some exploring before deciding on dinner.”

“We can take it easy and sleep early tonight,” you add in. “I know that flying internationally is always a bitch and I try to time my sleep when I need to.”

The eight of you part ways. Your suite has a beautiful view of the sky and the room itself makes you feel like the main character of a romance film. The bed is just to your liking with pillows stacked to the nines. It feels nice to have a moment to yourself. With your friend Yunjin backing out of the trip at the last minute due to family conflicts, you hadn’t had time to think about anything other than arriving at the hotel safely.

You busy yourself with a shower and freshen up, pulling out options for you to wear for the rest of the night. You settle with something stylish yet comfortable and put enough makeup on your face until you’re satisfied with the person staring back at you in the bathroom mirror.

True to your word, you enter the lobby when you said you would. Jay and Sunghoon are already downstairs by the seats. Sunghoon stands to offer you the loveseat but you decline politely and sift through your phone until the rest of the guys arrive.

When they do, it’s like all eight of you collectively agree that hunger has overtaken you. You know of a nearby cafe that serves sandwiches from your days in university. You lead them to the quaint restaurant that has your friends staring at the art on the walls as you greet the cashier and order.

It’s a slow moment for the eight of you as you all eat in relative silence, the sound of quiet slurping audible from the coffees everyone has chosen to drink.

“Did you spend a lot of time here?” Jungwon asks.

“Around the area, yeah,” you say, looking around. The outdoor seating area is just towards the edge of the street with the weather being a cool, cloudy day. “I loved coming to cafe’s like these with my friends after class. We’d study until they kicked us out and then go for a drink or two.”

“We should go to a pub while we’re here,” Jake suggests. “I’ve always wanted to see an English pub. We have a few back in Australia.”

“I know just the place! My friend’s brother owns it and they know I’ll be in town for the next week. It would be nice to catch up with them.”

“Hopefully your friends here kept you out of trouble,” Sunghoon teases. You flick him with your fingers.

“I’m the most responsible one out of you seven and don’t you forget that.”

“Do you miss being here now that you’re back?” Riki asks in between sandwich bites. “God, I love London already.”

“You’re going to choke if you don’t slow down.” He apologies and takes a single bite. “Well, I think I miss my friends a lot. I don’t necessarily miss being in university, but I miss the freedoms that come with it.”

“I still can’t believe you spent four years of your life here,” Sunghoon says. “That’s insane when you think about how you cried when your aunt took you to Tokyo for a week when you were in middle school.”

The boys laugh and you frown. “I was twelve, okay? You wound me. But yeah, I think I grew out of my shell in high school and had this urge to travel but didn’t know how to do it. I was surprised when my parents encouraged me to apply to King’s College, even more so when I got accepted.”

“You’ve always been too good to stay in one place for too long,” Jake says. “We got close until halfway through our first year of high school, I think. I always got the sense that you wanted more than what our hometown could offer.”

“I always wanted to move to the heart of Seoul eventually. But I think I needed to come here in order to figure that out.”

“Would you really have stayed in London if you had the chance?”

You avoid looking at Heeseung, whose attention averted from his phone to you.

“I don’t know,” you say honestly. “But what I do know is that I’m happy to be back in Korea and I’m happy to be traveling to Europe.”

“You always did have that sense of adventure,” Heeseung says. “I remember you were the one who always got us in trouble when we explored a little too far.”

“Your mom was pissed that time I walked a little too far down the shoreline when we went to Jeju.” The memory feels warm despite your discomfort at having Heeseung’s eyes on you. “I didn’t know who she wanted to kill more, me or you.”

“Definitely me. You could do no wrong in her eyes.”

“What happened?” Sunoo asks.

“My family and Heeseung’s took a trip to Jeju Island when we were around seven, if I remember correctly. I’d taken swimming lessons and thought I could show off my new skills at the beach we were at, but there was a wave that was a bit too much for me to handle.”

“She was nearly swallowed by the ocean.” Heeseung hits his knee with his palm as he recalls the memory. “I mean, I was seven and it seemed like the wave was gigantic but to my mom, it must’ve been just tall enough that she could see over it.”

“She yelled at him for the rest of the night because she had to pull me out from under the water,” you add. “I was fine. My parents laughed it off but his mom was so pissed at him for not telling me to come back to the shore.”

Echoes of laughter fill the space. It feels nice to be able to laugh like this with Heeseung, temporarily forgetting why you were so awkward around him in the first place.

When the check is paid, you lead the group around the area. Sunghoon takes out his camera and captures everything that inspires him while Sunoo and Riki are off to explore the shops around. It brings warmth to your chest to see your friends enthusiastically exploring the space you once called home. It had been a dream of yours since Jay came to visit and let you drag him around town for the day. Having them with you feels like you’re healing a part of yourself.

You duck into the quiet bookstore you used to frequent while you were a student. Filled with novels and trinkets from floor to ceiling, it feels familiar to you.

You get lost in thought when you glance at the books in front of you and you don’t notice Heeseung approaching.

“Still love books?”

“Jesus,” you gasp, clutching your chest. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he laughs. “Seems like you still scare easily.” You hate that he knows you so well. Clearing your throat, you put the book back.

“Yes, to both. I used to come to this bookstore a lot when I had free time.”

He looks around. “It looks like a nice place.”

“They have a reading nook in the back. The owner is this sweet older woman who was the first person to help me with my English when I first moved. I think she let me read books for free because I used to bring her sweets.”

“That sounds like something you’d do.” You cast your eyes to the floor. “It’s crazy that there’s parts of you that I don’t know.”

“Yeah,” you mumble solemnly. Heeseung’s eyes bore into the side of your face as you pretend to look at the titles of the books.

“Do you talk to your college friends often?”

“All the time. My closest friends live all over the place. Two of them are from the area, one went to live in the States, and a few live in Busan.”

“I’ll bet it was nice to have some Korean friends when you moved. I remember you used call me to tell me about your first semester here.”

You can’t help but think about the first few months after you moved when you would call Heeseung for a bit of comfort when things felt too overwhelming. With Korea being nine hours ahead, you always felt a little too bothersome phoning when it was the middle of the night for him, not used to the time difference. But he always answered you or called back when he had the chance.

You’d spend hours on the phone, talking to him about how difficult it was to learn English and how making friends was not as easy as you thought it would be. Navigating the city felt lonely and isolating because you’d barely made friends in your classes in the first few weeks. Heeseung was there through all of it, reminding you that being eighteen years old in a new country made you brave despite feeling like you were a failure for not grasping a hold on life like you thought you would.

Falling asleep on the phone with him became a routine, too. Whether it was you who fell asleep after a long day or Heeseung, who had stayed up listening to your worries, the sound of his breathing made it feel like you were back home in Korea instead of exploring a grand new world.

Soon enough, you could talk your way around and piece together conversations with your classmates until you’d found friends who shared similar interests. Heeseung was the first person you told and the first person to tell you how proud he was that you extended your roots to learn about yourself away from home. You always thrived off of his praise as if making him proud was something you never sought out to do, but appreciated when it happened.

But that was four years ago. Whatever friendship you had with him then is not the one you have with him now.

“It was nice,” you settle. “I miss my college friends. You might get to meet some later in the week.”

“Nice,” he mutters to himself when you walk past him. “That’s really nice.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The rest of the week is spent in your old stomping grounds, from touring your campus, to shopping, to sightseeing. The eight of you split up more often than not to explore different areas based on mutual interest. You find that Heeseung tends to gravitate towards you and you aren’t sure if it’s because he feels guilty for rejecting you or because he genuinely wants to explore what you want to do.

Still though, at least one other person joins you. It feels nice to have a buffer to avoid any awkward conversation or moments, especially when Heeseung trips over his words trying to talk to you.

The week goes by too quickly for your liking. Spending time in London has felt like coming back home, in a way. You’ll always have your memories here and this city will remain the same when you return in the future. Now, it no longer feels like the place you escape too because things got too hard back home.

Even with Heeseung next to you more often than not, you’ve found a happy medium The awkwardness dissipates when you set aside your indifference to show everybody your favorite places, watching them explore the city for themselves.

As expected, Riki and Jake have spent a little too much on clothing with the hopes that they can fit it into their luggage on the way back. It fits miraculously.

Your friend Leo, the one whose brother owns the pub you used to frequent, tells you he’s excited to see you after all these months. It’s a Friday night when you arrive, seeing it well populated. But it’s rather early in the evening before the rush hour, so you enjoy the relative quietness before people rush in.

Heeseung, on the other hand, has been in a stupor for the latter half of the week. It began when he managed to talk to you in the bookstore, but blossomed when he watched you navigate your way around the city. You barely looked at your phone for directions and had no problem switching to English when you greeted shop owners. Hearing you speak fluently in a language you once struggled with in your childhood made him feel somewhat removed from your life. The two of you used to joke that he was always better with English. Now, the tables have turned.

The fear that you’d told your school friends about what transpired between the two of you plants itself in the back of Heeseung’s mind. He worries that your friends won’t like him and that you’ve scorned his name, but he chides himself just as much as he worries because he knows you and how deeply you care about people.

Heeseung wishes he could go back in time to change what happened. He wishes that he’d admit his mistake and confess to you before you left. It had taken him a long time to confront his own feelings, but seeing you back in Korea made him realize he didn’t care if the relationship was long distance or not. He didn’t care as long as you were in his life.

The months spent apart without phone calls or texts were agony. He loathed hearing what you were up to from your mutual friends or when he accidentally watched your Instagram stories. Seeing you happy without him made his heart lurch, not out of possessiveness, but because he wished you were comfortable enough to share those moments with him.

To boil it down, Heeseung hopes this trip can undo a year’s worth of his ignorance.

But before he can think about that, your exclamation pulls him towards a strange man before you.

“Leo!”

The sheer volume of your voice doesn’t go unnoticed by Heeseung, who eyes the bloke the second you make a dash for him. His heart winces when your arms wrap around the stranger’s neck and as he spins you around, squeezing you for good measure. He isn’t pleased when Leo settles to let his arm rest around your waist instead of letting you go. He’s even less so when you don’t attempt to separate yourself from him.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Leo says with a boyish grin, accent making Heeseung nearly roll his eyes.

“This is Leo.” You let your head rest on his shoulder for a brief moment. “He’s one of my friends from university. I think we met in, what, second year?”

“Second year, auditing class with Professor Donahue on Mondays and Wednesdays,” he says. “God, that class was so boring.”

“He’s the friend whose brother owns the bar,” you explain to them. You introduce Leo to each friend respectively. “Jay and Jake are my friends who are fluent in English.”

“You can speak it and understand it as well, right?” Leo asks as he shakes Heeseung’s hand.

He nods while giving him a tight smile. “Just a little. I’m practicing.”

“Nah, you sound perfect already.”

Heeseung feels indifferent to see you in your element with people from your past. The bartender, who is Leo’s brother, tells you the first two rounds are on the house after he checks IDs. Riki and Jungwon are excited to have their first pub experience after you make them promise to take it slow and drink lots of water in between.

“It’s a bit weird seeing her be like that,” Leo says to Jay with a laugh. “When we first got to know each other, it was me who had to tell her to watch how much she drank.”

“Y/N, drinking?” Jake asks. “No way. Back in Korea, she got drunk maybe twice a year.”

“She and a mutual friend, Elizabeth, were as thick as thieves. They were like a package deal before we all graduated and until she moved to the States. They’d always go a little too hard after exam season was over or if people invited them out on a Saturday night.”

“Y/N’s always been the responsible one out of the bunch,” Jay adds. “In high school, there was one time she got so drunk that she nearly scaled the roof of my friend’s house. Heeseung nearly fell off trying to get her down. After that, she swore off alcohol.”

Heeseung makes a few comments in the conversation as he watches you catch up with Leo’s brother and as you facilitate conversation between the rest of the guys. There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when he realizes there’s a lot he doesn’t know about you.

The two of you talked less as you became more comfortable in your environment. At first, Heeseung took it to heart and made the assumption that you’d chosen your friends in England over him, but a stern conversation with his mother made him realize he was being juvenile. He could only comfort you so much when he was oceans away. It was probably a good thing that you were talking to him less because that must’ve meant you were as overwhelmed or scared like you were when you first moved to England.

You’d still call him a few times a week before bed–when Heeseung was getting ready for the day–to update him on everything that happened in the past week. You two texted more frequently than you conversed, sending him pictures of new places you’d discovered or him sending photos of your mutual friends with sad faces at the notion of you not being able to be there with them.

Heeseung had always felt a bit jealous of your time abroad. He loved Korea, but he yearned for the same sense of adventure you once had. Only, he hadn’t figured it out until halfway through university when it was too late to transfer or apply for a semester abroad. When Jay had proposed this trip and that his father would expense half of it, he jumped at the opportunity to go.

Although, he didn’t know it would hurt him this much.

Hearing you talk about your life here made him feel like it was his fault that he barely knew your life in England. It was so easy when the two of you lived a few blocks from each other; he’d run into you with your other friends on the street or know exactly where you were likely to be at any given moment. He knew you felt the same way about him too, as you always knew where to find him if you really needed him.

But it feels like this is the first time he’s seeing you for who you are as an adult, not the child that he grew up with.

Surely, Heeseung always knew you had a good head on your shoulders. You were always the more outspoken one who stood up for what you believed in, no matter how big or small. You never backed down if someone was giving you a hard time and it was one of the reasons why Heeseung had struck up a conversation with you as you two played in the sandbox after a few kids had stolen the toys he was playing with. That sense of responsibility and gratuity followed you into your adolescent and teenage years, too. Not once had Heeseung heard anyone say a bad word about your character. He’d like to think he had something to do with it, but deep down, Heeseung knows it was all you.

When you confessed nearly a year ago, Heeseung felt like his heart might’ve ceased to function properly. Truth be told, he’s never taken his daydreams about being your boyfriend too seriously. He always wondered if it was normal to develop small crushes on your girl-friends at a young age and wondered if those butterflies in his stomach was because of how often his other friends at school would playfully tease him until they stopped. Jake and Sunghoon had been people who teased him for having a girl as his best friend until they befriended you too, and Heeseung was satisfied when they stopped with their comments. They, too, could understand why Heeseung was so keen on keeping you around.

But the butterflies never quite left him. Your smile was too bright. Your voice was too angelic. Everything about you and how you fit into his life felt a little too perfect; Heeseung hated cliches in his youth and this felt like one big cliche joke. He knew his mother didn’t approve of the girls she’d see him with, even in college when he got into his first serious relationship. She wasn’t as enthusiastic about her as she was with you. At the time, the frustration seemed too biased until it ended in a way that made Heeseung realize his mother truly knew what was best for him.

Heeseung never considered the possibility of dating you until you confessed your feelings for him.

As much as he plays off being the spontaneous, go-with-the-flow type of person, Heeseung gets scared when things go unplanned. He backs away from courage and from moments that make or break his character. He likes to play it safe unless he can make a calculated risk in his favor, choosing to let others fall flat on their face and learn from their mistakes. Heeseung had never considered the possibility of you having feelings for him either. That fateful summer night is one he will always remember, especially in the way the light in your eyes dimmed when he told you he didn’t feel the same.

He remembers your quick apologies and the way you backed away too quickly for his liking. He had tried to reach for your hand to tell you it was okay and that he didn’t feel awkward about it, but you’d shook your head and merely told him you’d see him later. Heeseung had never seen you leave so abruptly. But he figured you’d get over it, as you typically do when things don’t go your way. You’re resilient like that.

Heeseung assumed you needed time to heal from the awkward encounter and hadn’t reached out to you for a week. He didn’t think much of it at the time and hadn’t made plans with you until he realized you’d be leaving for Europe the week following. By then, it had been too late, because he stopped by your house the morning after you left.

Getting together with Seulgi after you left felt too easy. He knew she’d always had a thing for him but brushed her off for reasons he couldn’t fathom until he bumped into her a few weeks after you’d left without so much as a text or a voicemail. Feeling a bit irritated at your wordless departure, Heeseung took Seulgi out on a few days to take his mind off of you.

Except, it didn’t work. Heeseung found himself fantasizing about what it would be like to go out to dinner with you when she was sitting in front of him. When she’d texted him to thank him for his time, Heeseung imagined the kind of things you would say after your first date. When he kissed her for the first time underneath the twinkling lights of a local fair, Heeseung pictured you as he closed his eyes. The fantasy was ruined when Seulgi’s perfume touched his olfactory senses, pulling him back into reality. The guilt of kissing somebody who wasn’t you ate at his chest the moment he saw Seulgi smile at him from where he stood.

He tried his best with her but broke it off when the unrest overtook his mental wellbeing. It was amicable, for the most part. All Heeseung knows is that his parents (along with all of his friends) were happy that he hadn’t continued with that relationship.

“Y/N used to talk a lot about you, Heeseung,” Leo says, bringing the aforementioned out of his thoughts. “We’d be out at dinner or something and she’d always run outside to answer your calls.”

“Really?” Heeseung says out of surprise. He didn’t know you did that.

“You bet,” Leo replies. “She talked a lot about Korea when we’d hang out with our friends but she seemed to talk about you the most.”

Heeseung wonders if you told him about what happened between the two of you the summer before you left.

“I’m flattered.” Heeseung honestly doesn’t know what else to say. He chooses to tell the truth. “I missed her a lot. I grew up with her living a few blocks away. It felt weird not to be with her when I went to college.”

“Y/N said the same thing. Every time she’d be homesick, she’d tell us she needed to call you.” Leo’s words bring a warm flush to Heeseung’s face but he chooses to blame it on the alcohol.

“I heard my name,” you say as you walk to where they’re sitting. “Not talking shit about me, my dear Leo?”

“Never,” he teases. “Although, I’m sure I still have some pretty photos of you and Elizabeth at this very pub.”

“Oh God, please don’t.” You push his shoulder when he moves to reach his phone. “Those do not need to see the light of day and you definitely need to delete them.”

“How else am I going to blackmail you?”

“You’re the worst.” You look cute when your nose is a bit red from drinking. You always did suffer from redness to the face when you drank. “I can’t believe Elizabeth and I let you into our friend group.”

“Hey! I was the one who introduced you to her in the first place.”

“I’ll bet if I texted her right now, I’d have it in writing that she’d choose me over you.”

“Okay, you don’t need to do that because she definitely would.”

The group laughs and conversations flow nicely as a few other friends from your university days join you later in the evening. It feels like a reunion, of sorts. It feels especially wonderful to have most of your favorite people under one roof despite the slight language barrier. But everyone seems to get along well enough, especially Riki, who has taken a liking to your Japanese friend you met on your first day of orientation.

When the room gets too hot, you make your way outside where you’re fenced in by a metal barricade. It’s cold outside, but the alcohol running through your veins keeps you warm enough that you decide not to go back to ask for a jacket. Heeseung wants to follow you but stays still in his seat when he sees Sunghoon exit the door after you leave.

The wine in your hands is still halfway full. You’ve decided that you’ve taken the lead far too many times this week and that Jay can handle getting everyone home. It’s your fourth drink of the night, just enough to keep you buzzed for the duration of your time at the pub.

You register the door sliding open and make room for Sunghoon when you spot him over your shoulder.

“Your friends are really nice,” he comments, leaning on the railing next to you.

“They’re the best,” you say with a fond smile. “I owe them a lot. I only started enjoying my time here when we became friends.”

“You know, I was a little worried that you wouldn’t be happy when you moved to London for the first time.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I think a lot of people would describe you as brave and as someone who will dive in head first to things that scare you, which is true for the most part. But I think people rarely pay attention to the vulnerable side of people like you because it looks like you have it all together.”

“I was a total wreck when I first moved,” you said. “I don’t know if you remember the few times I called you when Heeseung wasn’t able to pick up.”

“Oh, I remember. That was the first time you cried to me and now you have no issue getting your snot on my sweaters.” You swat his arm at the joke but he dodges you just in time. “I remember Yeji getting worried about you too. She was so young and always said she wanted to be brave like you.”

“Sweet girl,” you say.

“The two of you are similar. I watch out for her a lot, you know? Our relatives always think she puts on a brave face and don’t think twice when she talks about her fears. They always tell her she’ll be fine, but it’s hard to actualize that when you don’t believe it.”

“I thought about coming home a few times when things got really hard,” you confess. “I was out of my depth because I couldn’t speak English very well. I could only speak fragments and getting my way around campus was so hard.”

“I don’t know how you did it, if I’m being honest. But I’m glad that you stuck around long enough to see what your life would be like.”

“Me too. I’d really love to think I’ve become a better person now that I’ve gotten the chance to know myself beyond the comfort of my home, you know? I love you guys and I love my family, but sometimes being back in Korea felt like I was listening to what was expected of me instead of what I wanted.”

Sunghoon laughs. “Yeji said the same thing a few weeks before we left for London. Part of me thinks she’s considering studying abroad. I found a few college brochures in her room.”

“Don’t you know better than to snoop inside your sister’s bedroom?”

“Yah,” he says. “Yeji steals too many of my sweaters and she said I could get them back.”

“You’re just too easy to make fun of, Hoonie.”

A comfortable silence passes over the both of you. The audible sound of people talking amongst themselves and the beautiful lights of the city illuminate what makes London so beautiful. It isn’t until Sunghoon speaks that you pull yourself out of your daydreams.

“I heard you that night,” Sunghoon confesses.

“What are you talking about?”

“The night of the bonfire.I know you told Heeseung you liked him.”

You turn your head to him. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I figured you’d tell me whenever you felt ready,” he says with a shrug. “You went back to London a couple of weeks later and I wanted to spend time with my friend. There never seemed to be a right time.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and balances from one leg to another. “You looked really sad, Y/N. I’ve never seen you look that way before.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Sunghoon listens as you sigh and you push yourself from the railing. Your back touches the cold metal as you look beside yourself to see him.

“I deluded myself into thinking Heeseung might’ve felt something for me too,” you admit. “It’s not that girls and boys can’t be friends, but towards the end of our friendship, it was like something shifted.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’d…touch me longer. Hugs, pulling me by my waist at parties, lingering near me at Riki’s bonfires, that kind of thing. He started playing with my fingers a lot more. Heeseung never used to touch me like that. He’d interrupt conversation with guys to pull me away. I always knew what he was doing but I liked him so much that I didn’t care if he interrupted a good thing between me and someone else.”

Sunghoon purses his lips and watches as you look ahead at the glass doors to see your friends laughing. “I noticed that too.”

“When we were alone, it felt like he was one sentence away from telling me he loved me more than a friend. Not that platonic crap that the eight of us tell each other, but the deep shit where that kind of love comes from kindred souls.”

“Heeseung’s too stupid to see what’s good for him anyway.” Sunghoon pulls a laugh out of you and he’s glad to hear it.

“But then I confessed to him the night of that bonfire.” You bite your lip at the memory, willing yourself not to tear up. “I mean, you heard him. He told me he didn’t feel the same way and didn’t want to ruin our friendship because it was perfect as it was.”

“And then you heard he’d gotten together with Seulgi.”

“Yeah.” You nod once and look down at your drink.

“They weren’t together long,” Sunghoon says. “She wanted more but he didn’t want to give that to her. The boys were confused because he seemed to be really happy with her until he broke it off so sudden. I always thought it was because he felt too guilty after rejecting you.”

“What did the guys think?”

“Riki hated her. I have a feeling it was because she wasn’t you, though. I think Sunoo, Jungwon, and Jake were surprised when he’d gotten together with Seulgi after you left and were trying to be nice about it. Jay was indifferent, but then again, you two weren’t as close as you were with the rest of them until he visited you while you were away.”

“Did his opinion change?”

“Definitely. Heeseung had a period of time in the new year where he went on a couple of dates with her, telling us he might’ve made a mistake by breaking things off too soon.” Sunghoon shakes his head as he tells the story. “Jay was unbelievably pissed.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know how he gets when he’s angry. He’s quiet and doesn’t talk until he’s calm. But it was like a volcano erupted, or something. Jay came back mid January to find out Heeseung had been seeing Seulgi for a couple of weeks and completely lost it on him. He said things about not knowing a good thing if it spat in his face and how he ruined every chance of happiness because of his own doing.”

“Wow…I didn’t know Jay said that.”

“It was scary. Heeseung tried to fight back and say it was his life and that Jay didn’t have a right to say what he could and couldn’t do, but the poor guy never stood a chance. Jay asked him if he would be happy if you came back to see him dating Seulgi and that shut him up real quick.”

“What do I have to do with it?” you ask. “He rejected me before I left.”

“I don’t know,” Sunghoon says truthfully. “I always thought that Heeseung was trying to redeem himself through Seulgi. But I guess we’ll never truly know.”

“It’s been almost a year,” you reminisce. “You’d think I would’ve gotten over him by now after spending time in Europe with, well, other boys.”

“He’s not just any guy who rejected you,” Sunghoon says. He looks out at the street, finding the words to say. “You two had been best friends since before me or the guys got to know either of you. There’s a special kind of bond between people who grew up together, you know?

“I think a large part of you misses being friends with him. Sure, rejection always stings, but it’s knowing that you don’t have your best friend that hurts you more.”

“Jeez,” you chide. “You always know how I feel.”

Sunghoon laughs. “I’m just observant. I know that it’s hard to be on this trip because Heeseung’s trying to be that friend you once knew. He probably feels guilty for giving you the cold shoulder during your first few weeks back in Seoul.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, well he’s not doing a great job showing it. Life would be easier if he left me alone.”

“But do you want that?”

You cast your eyes to the floor. “No, I don’t.”

Satisfied with your answer, Sunghoon nods.

“You know, I knew Heeseung had feelings for you the night we played spin the bottle just before we graduated high school.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Hoon. He never liked me.”

Sunghoon shakes his head. “Do you remember what happened that night?”

“Vaguely. I remember that being my first time trying alcohol and Jake having to cut me off when I couldn’t walk straight.”

He nods. “When you were sober enough to string a few sentences together, some girl suggested playing spin the bottle. When it was your turn to spin, it landed on me.”

You make a face. “Ah. I do remember kissing you.”

“Well you don’t have to look grossed out,” Sunghoon teases. “Everyone knew it was awkward because we’d been friends for like, five years at that point. We were both so flustered that the kiss lasted for maybe two seconds before everyone cheered.

“Heeseung was pissed. I saw him looking at me like I’d killed his family, or something. I swore I could see steam coming out of his ears. He wouldn’t talk to me for a week because I’d been your first kiss.”

“Seriously?”

“Dead serious.” Sunghoon laughs at the memory. “He wouldn’t answer my texts. In the group chat we were in, he’d acknowledge everyone but me. It wasn’t until a week later when we were all hanging out that I told him there was nothing between us and it was awkward to kiss you in front of our friends.”

You stand there, dumbfounded. “Huh.”

“I’ve never told anyone that,” he confesses. “I doubt anyone remembers us kissing except for him. I assumed this would be a story I’d tell you and the guys when you both eventually got together.”

He murmurs an apology. “It’s okay, Hoon. I’m glad you told me. I guess I’m just…confused. Why did he reject me if he allegedly liked me?”

“I wish I knew. He was miserable when you left and refused to talk about you moving back to Europe for your final year abroad. Heeseung was really sad when he found out you weren’t coming home for Christmas break.”

“I couldn’t bear to see him. I was so heartbroken and the friends here tonight were consoling me in the way they knew how. I knew I’d be a depressed wreck if I came back home.”

“That makes sense,” Sunghoon affirms for you. “I’m glad you met up with Jay while he was here, though. You got some kind of Christmas gift from home.”

“Me too. I feel like Jay and I got closer because of it. I knew he could tell something was off but he didn’t say anything about it. Something tells me he knows more than he cares to say.”

“You know Jay.” You both nod. “More observant and caring than the rest of us. Part of me thinks Heeseung’s jealous of your new friendship with him since the two of you basically planned this whole trip on your own.”

“Well, Jay has more international travel experience and his dad knows the right people,” you say with a shrug. “I spent four years of my life here. It makes sense.”

“To us, yes. To Heeseung? I think his feelings cloud his judgment.”

“He never used to confuse me,” you admit. “We used to talk about how much we hated when people made us guess how they felt or what they were thinking. We always said it was unfair if you make people you love, make you guess their intentions. But he’s doing that to me and it’s been driving me insane.

“Sometimes I wonder if I should’ve kept my mouth shut. I watched him date girls in high school. I watched him with what I thought would be his first serious girlfriend during our first year of college before he went through that short hookup phase. God, that hurt me so bad and I couldn’t say anything because it wasn’t my life.”

“For what it’s worth, I think it was brave of you to confess to him,” Sunghoon tells you. “I don’t say that as a cheap cop out to make you feel better either. You know me, I’m really sentimental about things even if I don’t come off that way. To confess your feelings to someone who you love…one can only hope to hear that someday.”

You nudge your shoulder with his. “You say that like you didn’t have girls begging for a date.”

Sunghoon laughs and you know what he means.

“You’ve always been the bravest of all of us,” he continues. “I think the reason why I wanted to be friends with you when we were kids is because you didn’t take bullshit from people. I was too shy to stand up for myself between my career as a figure skater while trying to be a normal kid. You and Heeseung offered that kind of normalcy. I could see you two in the bleachers at my competitions and then we’d go out for ice cream like it was any other day.”

“Well, now you’re going to make me cry.”

“I mean it, Y/N. You’re a great friend and a great person. I hope Heeseung hasn’t fucked things up too bad that you leave his life for good.”

You shiver. “Me too.”

“Talk to him,” Sunghoon advises. “Do it before we leave. You’re removed from your life back home.” You open your mouth to refute but he beats you to the chase. “If it doesn’t work out, then you’ll know your answer when you go home and you can resume your life without Heeseung in it.”

Sunghoon leaves you alone with your thoughts but makes you promise that you’ll join the group soon.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

When you walk back into the pub, Jake clouds your personal space before you can even think about ordering another drink.

“Jesus, Hoon. Couldn’t you have offered Y/N your jacket if you guys were gonna be out that long? Poor girl looks like she’s about to freeze to death.

Jake’s affinity for the dramatic never ceases. Your friends look at your goosebumps and the way you’re acclimating to the warmer temperature inside while Sunghoon merely rolls his eyes.

“I’m fine,” you say. “We only came in because I started to get cold.”

“Let me get my jacket for you,” Heeseung says as he rises from his seat.

“No.” You’re sure you say it too abruptly, but you can’t bear the thought of wearing his clothes after the conversation you just had. “I’m fine, honestly.”

“Stop being stubborn and wear a damn jacket,” Leo chides, wrapping his coat around your shoulders. “You have this habit of never bringing one when you need it and it drives me crazy.”

“But that’s what I have you for, don’t I?”

As you tug the material closer to your body, Sunghoon watches as Heeseung stares at Leo with a hard expression.

“Not when you’re back in Seoul, you goof.” Leo takes your empty glass. “I’m glad you have these guys back at home. They seem really good for you.”

“I love them a lot.” You say it so tenderly with your head tilted as you look at the boys you’d call family, only for them to coo at your clearly vulnerable, inebriated state.

“My mother, my older sister, and best friend,” Riki says with a hiccup as he engulfs you in a hug. “Seriously, I would be dead in a ditch without you.”

“I don’t know a better person,” Sunoo chimes in from where he’s seated.

“There was one time where Y/N had this lemon phase where she couldn’t stop drinking lemonade or eating lemon candy,” Jake tells the group. “Now I think of her every time I see something yellow.”

“That’s kind of fitting though, isn’t it?” Leo asks. “Yellow for sunshine.”

Everybody agrees and it makes your cheeks and neck warm up. You hide yourself in Leo’s jacket, but God, Heeseung wishes he could hide you in his arms instead.

Still, he can’t help but agree with Leo. If there’s any truth to his words, it’s that you are made of pure, unfiltered sunshine.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The next morning, all eight of you board the train for a two-hour ride to Paris. For the next five days, you’ll be acting as a tourist rather than tour guide, for the most part. Jay volunteers to take the lead since you did most of the heavy lifting in London. You do, however, chime in to give him a few recommendations from your prior visits to the city.

Sunghoon’s advice plagues your thoughts, so much so that Jungwon has had to guide you out of the hotel and into the cab before arriving at the train station. Both he and Sunoo look a bit worried about you, but you wave them off and tell them you had one too many to drink. You know they don’t believe you but you’re grateful they don’t press on.

Paris is much more beautiful than you remember it, and it’s likely due to the fact that you’re here on vacation, not because you wanted a weekend getaway to escape the stress of midterms and exams. The people are just as indifferent as ever. You’re able to practice some of your basic French to order coffee and pastries for everyone. It’s a feat that leaves Heeseung impressed and you try not to acknowledge him when you see his jaw drop.

The hotel itself is more beautiful than the last. You have the room with the balcony and double doors leading to a breathtaking view of the buildings and streets below. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen, even if the streets are littered with trash and the people are a bit too loud. It still feels charming.

The rooming situation is the same as London, with you in the single room and the rest of the boys to fend for themselves. This time, Jungwon, Jay, and Sunghoon are sharing the three bedroom with Heeseung and Jake sharing another, and Sunoo and Riki in the other double. The hotel must’ve miscalculated the rooming situation and put your single room at the end of the hallway away from the others, but you aren’t complaining.

The first few days are filled with happiness and dread, namely when you see Heeseung as you begin your day. He has a knack for making you laugh until you come to the notion that you really shouldn’t be finding his jokes very funny because he doesn’t deserve that kind of reaction from you.

In fact, he doesn’t deserve your attention after ignoring you for as long as he has. Seeing Leo again brought up memories of crying in his flat with Elizabeth and drinking too much wine to forget the pain temporarily. Your friends invited you to a night spent in the pub after Leo begged his brother to close it for the night so that you could have a free space to drink and talk about Heeseung until your voice gave out.

Your irritation carries over and Heeseung can tell when you move away from him when he tries to stand next to you. He’s hurt but he tries to understand that you have a right to be, even if he knows in his heart the reasons why he acted the way he did. He just needs to find time to talk to you, even if the conversation doesn’t end the way he hopes it will.

With two days left on the trip, you’ve eaten your way through the streets of Paris and have done your fair share of shopping. Each of the boys had bought you a small token of their appreciation (Heeseung paid for your latte, Jay purchased a small wallet from Prada, Jake gifted you new sunglasses, Sunghoon a charm for your bracelet, Sunoo a bowl of pasta for lunch, Jungwon a pair of earrings, and Riki a new jacket that looks similar to his from back home). It warms your heart to know you have people who care about you enough to show and tell you.

The Eiffel Tower calls your name one late afternoon and by the time you all manage to walk up, the sun is setting below the horizon. There are couples around Heeseung who are taking photos left and right, one of which asks him to take a few pictures for them. He can’t help but wish he was in their place, asking a stranger to take a photo of the two of you as he kisses the apple of your cheek. Heeseung snaps a few good ones before the couple thanks him.

It doesn’t help that you look like a walking goddess. Truth be told, Heeseung wanted to buy you more than just coffee when the boys agreed to each give you something as a token of their gratitude. Heeseung had come up with a list of ideas he wanted advice for, but it was Sunghoon who’d told him to keep it simple for your sake. He was right, as always, because you thanked him with a pleasant smile instead of ignoring him like you had in the days prior. Heeseung gets the feeling that you wouldn’t appreciate a grand gesture from him right now.

He hates that he can’t read you like he used to. He hates that the other friends know you better than he does, and he hates that he’s in the City of Love and he can’t call you his girlfriend.

Riki and Jungwon are more perceptive than they let on. Heeseung sees the way their eyes dart between the two of you and how they’ve been trying their best to navigate the new dynamic. Riki, especially, hadn’t been receptive of Seulgi the first time Heeseung invited her to a bonfire. Heeseung had overheard the younger boy telling Jungwon it wasn’t the same without you there and that he’d rather go home than spend another minute getting to know someone who wasn’t you.

At the time, Heeseung was beyond irritated and refused to speak to Riki for the rest of the night. Now, however, he understands why Riki acted the way he did.

You look so beautiful underneath a Parisian sunset. Heeseung knows he’s staring. He’s grateful that you’re too preoccupied with Sunghoon taking photos of you. But God, he wishes you’d laugh at him like that.

“You should talk to her,” Jake says from beside him. Heeseung jumps at his sudden appearance. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I want to.” Heeseung says it out loud for the first time. He wants to work it out with you and get his best friend back in whatever way you’ll allow. “I miss her, Jake. I miss being her friend and I fucked up when I rejected her.”

Heeseung doesn’t notice Jake’s eyes widen at the sudden admission. Jake had his fair share of theories and considered Heeseung to be his best friend, but even he knew there was a limit about what he was willing to share and what he kept to himself. Heeseung’s friendship with you was something he stopped trying to learn a few years after he got to know you; Heeseung had a soft spot for you and had no problem letting people know that. It wasn’t until you mentioned to Jake that you hadn’t spoken to Heeseung in months that he knew something was up.

“She clearly cares about you,” Jake says. “She wouldn’t be on this trip if she didn’t.”

“But she’s been ignoring me the past three days. And before you say it, yes, I know that she has a valid reason to, but I’m hurt and I want to make things better.”

“You have to let her take the reins and let her talk to you when she wants to,” Jake advises. “You know how she is. Y/N’s headstrong and she might not know how she feels right now, but she always knows what’s best for her. You’re good for her, Heeseung. Let her come to that conclusion on her own.”

Heeseung relinquishes his breath. “You’re right. I just…miss her. A lot. Things will never go back to the way they used to but I don’t think I want them to. I used to pray every night that I could somehow make everything like it was before that night but now I want more than that. She deserves better and I want to be better for her, not that coward who was too scared to try something new with the person he loves.”

His friend’s words bring a smile to Jake’s lips. “Well I, for one, believe in you. I think the rest of the guys do too.”

“I know,” Heeseung says softly with his eyes on you.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

You can’t believe you leave Europe in two days as you sip your wine. Jay’s father was gracious enough to reach out to his friend at the hotel’s restaurant to negotiate having this meal compensated. It’s a gesture you hold onto and make a mental note to write a thoughtful note when you settle back in Korea. Jay sits next to you and partakes in the wine activities with you, namely picking out two different bottles to share with the table. Talking to Jay like this makes you feel otherworldly, like you’ve gotten more experience out of life since you chose to study abroad. You feel lucky, in a sense, that your life has given you more than you expected it too.

The younger boys head upstairs after dessert and bid you all a goodnight in case they don’t see you before falling asleep. For the next thirty minutes or so, it’s the five of you laughing away at the hotel bar like old times, reminiscing about embarrassing moments from high school or how difficult it was to hear Jake’s Korean when he first moved.

The Australian leaves as soon as he yawns. Sunghoon, a little too tipsy upon standing from the bar table, presses a gentle kiss to your head when he says goodnight to the rest of you. Jay gives your arm a reassuring squeeze and you understand for the first time that he always knew you better than he let on. He says goodnight and tells the bartender to charge his room whenever you two close the tab.

Now, you and Heeseung are sitting together, mere inches apart as the Parisian sky twinkles with stars above the two of you.

Neither of you know what to say. You fidget with the glass and contemplate on whether you should head up as well. Heeseung can sense your awkwardness and wish he hadn’t messed things up so badly that you can’t stand to be alone with him without thinking of an escape plan. He misses when the two of you could sit in complete silence and still feel comfortable around one another.

“Thank you for showing us around,” he speaks up before you can make the decision to leave. “I remember you talking about all of the places you showed us when you first moved here. I’ve always wanted to visit.”

“Really?”

Heeseung nods. “I used to be so jealous that you got the opportunity to travel abroad every time you talked about it. But I think I like it better this way, with you as the tour guide.”

That brings a laugh out of you and Heeseung can’t help but smile. He doesn’t care if it’s the alcohol allowing your walls to come down. He’s grateful for the chance.

“I used to write down places I wanted to show you,” you confess. “There were so many places that reminded me of where we’d used to hang out as kids. It always felt like there was a part of you with me.”

His heart melts. “I wish I could’ve visited you while you were here. Your friends seem pretty cool.”

“They are.” Heeseung watches you smile. “They’ve been with me through a lot and helped me get over this fear of failing in a different country. My friend Suki, who now lives in Tokyo, was the first person to really get me out of my shell and convinced me to go out. Awkward Y/N? Going to clubs?”

“You know how to dance, though. I bet you killed it.”

“A little too much, perhaps. I didn’t date or hook up much, but there were a few times that I did.” Heeseung’s heart begins to sink as does his hope. This is not where he wanted to lead the conversation but his ears perk up at your next point. “But I wasn’t happy doing that so I stopped making out with random guys on the dance floor.”

“If only thirteen-year-old you could see you then,” he teases. You bump his shoulders with yours and he feels electricity running down his arm.

“I think I did a good job adjusting and learning. There were times where I felt like I didn’t know what I was doing with my life because I couldn’t decide if I wanted to stay in London or go back to Seoul. That burden felt too much.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you came back home.”

Your head whips to look at Heeseung, who can only sit and watch as your eyes begin to water.

“Why didn’t you say anything when I texted and called you?” you ask meekly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Why didn’t you see me when I came back?”

“I know.” He gulps. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so, so sorry.”

You sniffle and Heeseung wants to cry too. “Everyone came to pick me up at the airport. I kept looking for you but you weren’t there. Jake had to pull me away from baggage claim because he said you weren’t coming but I didn’t listen. I told him he was wrong. You always come.”

Heeseung’s soul breaks with every crack in your voice and with the way your lips quiver. He sees your mascara beginning to smudge and resists the urge to wipe it away so that your eyes may look fresh and dry.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I have no excuse.”

“I wanted my best friend but you never showed up for me. You didn’t call or text me when you knew I was home and I had to wait until Riki’s bonfire to see you.”

“I was an idiot and stupid,” is the only answer Heeseung can come up with. “I used to be so scared of change. You left the country and I had to start thinking about what I wanted to do with my life but it was so hard without you in it.”

“Then why did you leave me?”

His heart shatters.

You’ve turned away from him in an attempt to walk back to your hotel room. However, Heeseung has learned his lesson. He doesn’t let you stray too far and gently tugs your wrist to pull you into his chest and is surprised when you don’t fight him off of you.

He doesn't care that your tears have stained his shirt or that you’re hiccupping into his clothes. All Heeseung wants to do is let you know he’s here for you now, despite his past mistakes and clouded judgment. Heeseung loves you for your bravery and vulnerability. He can only hope you understand that.

“Let’s go to your room, yeah? I can help you take your makeup off.”

Whether from the alcohol or your need to be near Heeseung, you let him guide you to the elevator. He digs in your purse for your room key and coaxes you to sit in the bathroom while he locks the door. This routine feels a bit familiar; in his youth, he learned how you like to take your makeup off and get ready for bed after a particularly rough night drinking. He could never understand why he hadn’t minded taking the extra step and to keep himself sober when you were in the vicinity, but he understands it now.

Heeseung meets you in the bathroom and washes his hands before putting your hair in a ponytail. He bites his lips when he sees your fresh tears and mutters another apology, forcing himself not to wipe away the tears with his fingers. Instead, he lets you blot them with a tissue before gathering makeup remover in his hands and gently smears it all over your skin.

“I didn’t like change,” he says after a quiet beat. “I was too cowardly to take what I wanted, even if the person I wanted said they wanted me too. I don’t know why I didn’t chase after you that night or why I thought you needed space before you left. I don’t have an explanation for any of it except to say that I was a coward who never wanted anything to change between us.”

Heeseung warms a wet cloth and wipes the balm away until he’s satisfied and moves on with your favorite cleanser, rubbing it between his hands until it foams.

“I think, deep down, I’ve always loved you more than I led on. I can’t think of any moment in my life where you weren’t there or times that I didn’t want you around. Even when we were in elementary school and everyone kept saying we would get cooties from each other, I wanted you with me.”

He lets you wash your face and applies the rest of your products on as you once taught him.

“I’ve always had this sense of pride when it came to being your friend. Everyone always talked about how cool you were because you always knew what to say and when to say it. I love that about you, you know. You have a way of making people feel like they’re really special. I don’t know why I was so afraid of that.

“I love who you are and what you believe in. You make the world a better place for everyone around you. How you treated me was a small fraction of why I love you. I love your passions and that you aren’t afraid to chase after them. I love that you stick with the same boba order even though you tell yourself you’ll try something new. I love that you hate the beach but go with us every time we ask. I love when you get a little drunk because you don’t fight me when I want to take care of you.”

Heeseung swallows. “But mostly, I just really love you.”

You open your eyes for the first time. Heeseung can only stare.

“You really hurt me.”

He glances down. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“What hurt the most was knowing you weren’t going to be there as my best friend, Heeseung. I could handle your rejection. I could find a way to get over you. But I could never get over losing our friendship. I never wanted you out of my life because it’s better with you in it.”

“Please don’t get over me,” Heeseung croaks. His own eyes begin to swell and he forces a choked sob down his throat, aggressively wiping his eyes to rid himself of tears. He presses his forehead against yours. “I don’t want you to get over me.”

You don’t say anything for a few moments. Heeseung swears he feels the blood rushing to his ears as he anticipates your response and he’s sure that even if what you say isn’t what he wants to hear, he’s happy to wear his feelings on his sleeve for once in his life.

“I don’t think I could even if I tried.”

Heeseung’s heart stops beating. He doesn’t kiss you even though he wants to. He doesn’t take your hand and pull you into him like his heart tells him to. Instead, he whispers a quiet thanks and is surprised when he hears you laugh.

“I can’t apologize enough. I don’t want to make you feel like you have to do or say anything.”

“I know,” you whisper. Heeseung's hands are dangling awkwardly by his side. He feels like pushing his forehead against yours was too much. But your hands reach for him and you give him a squeeze.

Heeseung throws caution out of the window and envelopes you in a hug. He feels your body melt against his and can’t help but look at the way you’ve folded into his chest in the bathroom mirror, with your head in his neck and his cheek on the crown of your head. Heeseung missed holding you like this–with your bodies intertwined as if you were two soulmates who were forced apart upon creation.

He stroked your back with his hand and kept the other secured around your waist. Your soft breaths touch his skin and it feels like he’s got electricity running through his veins.

“I’m sorry,” Heeseung whispers again. “I will keep apologizing until you know the depth of my regret.”

The boy feels like he’s floating when you press a soft kiss to his exposed chest, mentally thanking Jake for forcing him to let loose and unbutton a few.

“You could start by staying with me until I fall asleep,” you say. “Like old times.”

He tries not to punch the air. “I can do that.”

Heeseung waits in the bathroom until you’ve changed into comfortable clothing. He isn’t surprised when he sees you in shorts and an oversized shirt. It’s reminiscent of what you used to wear when you’d sleep in the guest bedroom in his house or vice versa, but now that he’s acknowledged his feelings for you, he can’t help but coo at how cute and sleepy you look.

You tuck yourself in bed with the blankets to your chin and he completely melts to the floor. You pat the spot next to him and he sits on top of the blankets.

“Under the covers, silly.”

“I don’t want to rush it,” Heeseung says in a panic.

“We aren’t rushing. We’re two best friends who got each other back.”

Heeseung has never been more relieved. Though, he knows you’re a stickler for outside clothes in bed, so he makes the decision to take your key card and change.

“I’m not leaving you,” he says when he notices you rise from your spot on the bed. He holds two key cards to prove it and leans over to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “I’m going to change and then I’ll be right back. I promise.”

He comes back ten minutes later. It warms your heart at the sight of him and you feel the comfort in your body when he slides underneath the covers.

You surprise yourself when you move to lay your head on his chest with your arm around his body. Heeseung doesn’t seem to mind, though, and he pulls you closer to him like you’ve done it a million times before. The two of you have wanted this for too long to make it feel awkward.

“What did Jake say when you came into the room?” you ask.

“He was half asleep until I turned the light on but he asked me if we resolved things. I told him yes and then he asked if I was staying the night with you when he saw me leaving.”

“Am I right to assume he was more excited about having the room to himself?”

Heeseung laughs. “That you are.”

“Deep down, I think Jake knew we’d find our way. I think they all did.”

“I’m sorry,” Heeseung whispers once more. You quiet him with a kiss to his cheek.

“I know, Hee. We can talk more tomorrow. For now, let’s sleep.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The next morning, Heeseung wakes up before you do and frowns when your body’s all the way on the other side of the bed. He leans over your sleeping frame and brushes strands of hair from your face, admiring how serene you look in your sleep. For a moment, Heeseung ponders if it’s too soon to wake you up the way he’d like to, but if last night was any indication about how you felt, he’d be willing to take the chance.

He leans down to kiss your forehead and both of your cheeks repeatedly until your eyes flutter open. Heeseung thinks he could listen to your laugh every morning with the way you wince at the sunlight and how his lips touch your skin. Still, your gaze finds its way to Heeseung’s and you can’t help but smile.

There was a brief moment before you fell asleep that you’d wondered if you’d been too quick to forgive him. But for as hurtful as the past year was, you can’t help but acknowledge the steps he took during the trip in an attempt to undo all of the contempt you had built for him. You owe it to yourself to be happy with Heeseung.

“Good morning, pretty girl,” Heeseung says with his morning voice that sounds a little too good for seven in the A.M. “Did you sleep well?”

“Slept like a baby. I feel like one too.”

“That’s because you are a baby,” Heeseung teases, kissing your cheeks and then the tip of your nose. “My baby.”

“I really want breakfast but I’m too lazy to get up from the bed.”

“We could always order in. I’ll pay.”

You shake your head. “I’ll be too tempted to stay in bed and it’s our last full day in Paris. Let’s just get ready and have breakfast at the hotel restaurant?”

The both of you are halfway done eating breakfast when the rest of your friends trickle in, joining your table and the ones next to you. It takes them a while to wake up, but it’s Sunghoon who speaks up first.

“I’m assuming you two talked?”

“And made up,” you say with a tilt of your head.

“That’s my girl,” Sunghoon says proudly, sipping on his coffee.

“I’ll let that slide since we’re all friends,” Heeseung jokes. You laugh and, for the first time in a while, you don’t feel guilty about it.

“I had the whole room to myself, too. I woke up and didn’t have to fight anyone for the bathroom,” says Jake.

Riki nearly spits his juice out. “You guys slept together?”

“Not like that!” you’re quick to exclaim. “He just slept over. Slept. As in, we closed our eyes and actually slept.”

“Both of us knew we needed our beauty sleep before dealing with the six of you asking us questions,” Heeseung adds. “But for your information, we made up. We still have things to figure out, but we’re back to being friends.”

“Hopefully more than that,” Jungwon coughs behind his coffee. He merely smiles when Heeseung looks in his direction.

“I think you two should spend the rest of the day by yourselves,” Jay suggests. “We can either meet up for dinner or whenever we have to check out.”

“I second that,” Sunoo agrees. “You two clearly need to talk.”

“I wanted to go shopping with Y/N again,” Riki says with a frown. Jake presumably knocks his shin with Riki’s, who clears his throat. “But you two should totally hang out without us.”

“I think we might,” Heeseung says, holding his hand out for you to take. He stands from his seat and encourages you to stand as well, leading you away from the table. “Thanks for the breakfast, Jay!”

“I’m choosing to be the bigger person because Y/N’s been through enough,” Jay mutters when Heeseung is out of hearshot, making the table laugh.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

“You know, I think the reason why I had such a hard time reaching out was because we’d never gotten into something that serious before,” Heeseung admits. The gelato in your hand isn’t as good as you remember it, but it does the job to cool you down on a particularly warm afternoon.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you remember when we were kids and how hard it was for me to talk to you about anything that was action movies or superheroes?”

“God, you and your Superman cape from fourth grade,” you snort. “You wore that thing to school everyday. Your dad had to wash it every night otherwise you’d refuse to go to sleep.” Heeseung shuts his eyes at the memory.

“You were the only person I felt comfortable pouring my heart out to, you know. You were always the first person I called when I needed someone to talk to, but then I was the reason why you got hurt…I think part of me didn’t know if I was allowed to reach out to you.

“It’s a stupid excuse, I know. But when I heard you were coming back to Seoul a few weeks before you did, I couldn’t help but think about how many times I could’ve texted you.”

“Yeah, you could’ve.” Heeseung merely nods at your agreement. “We’ve been through a lot over the years, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

“I just wish I had come to this conclusion when it happened. I was so caught up in graduating and focusing on how I felt that I didn’t consider how you must’ve been dealing with all of it. I don’t think I’ve ever been so selfish in my life.”

“I think the time you refused to let me be friends with Jake because you said you needed friends aside from me was your second most selfish moment.”

Heeseung rolls his eyes. “Quit it. I was thirteen, okay?”

Neither of you particularly care to do any sightseeing today. It feels nice to walk side-by-side without the company of your other friends. The juxtaposition of how you felt towards the beginning of this trip compared to how relaxed you feel surprises you a tenfold, but you suppose that comes with genuine apologies and forgiveness.

You’re willing to admit Heeseung looks criminally good in black jeans and a striped button down. He wears his clothes so effortlessly yet still looks like he could’ve taken his wardrobe from a magazine. You’ve always found it a bit unfair that Heeseung always manages to look so cool without trying too hard.

“You’re staring,” he mutters, looking at you from the corner of his eye as the two of you walk down a cobblestone street.

“I’m not,” you lie. You turn your head to avoid his gaze, but Heeseung thinks he likes seeing you this shy. It’s new territory for him, one that he wants to explore.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Go for it.”

“Why did you forgive me so quickly?” Heeseung asks. “I appreciate it, I really do, but a big part of me feels like I don’t deserve that just yet.”

It takes you a while to answer. Why did you forgive him as fast as you did? For a week and a half, being in close quarters with Heeseung made you feel nothing but anxious and on edge, so why were you able to allow yourself to be vulnerable in front of him?

“I’ve always held onto the idea that you’re a good person,” you begin. “I’ve always admired that you intend to care for the people you love and make them feel like they have a place in your life. You’ve always made me feel safe, like I could run to you when things got too hard.

“What you did was in poor taste, sure, but making bad decisions doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. I know you, Hee. I know how you get when you’re faced with a difficult choice and how long it takes for you to come around. I was justifiably hurt but I think a part of me always knew you’d fix it somehow.”

“I wish I could feel deserving of that kind of forgiveness.”

“You know me. You know I wouldn’t tell you that if I didn’t feel like what I’m saying is true. I’ll admit that I shocked myself with how quickly I let my guard down with you…but you’re Heeseung. You've been my best friend since the first grade and you’re the boy I happen to have a really big crush on.”

Heeseung bites his lips at your confession, willing himself not to be too forward as to kiss you in the middle of the street. He sees your bravery and the way you’ve put your heart directly in the palm of his hand, acting out of vulnerability even though the both of you knew he hurt you once before.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. Instead, Heeseung grabs your hands and locks his fingers with yours, squeezing three times to tell you he loves you.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The afternoon comes and goes with little to no plan. Heeseung’s a bit worried that he hasn’t heard anything from the boys and he’s rendered shocked that you’ve taken it upon yourself to let the day take you where it may instead of finding the next spot to visit.

As if on cue, Jay texts him with plans for the evening.

jjongcaprio: 20:00, Pétrelle. It’s a five minute walk from the hotel

jjongcaprio: I made reservations for you and Y/N tonight. Don’t worry about me and the boys, just take her out on a romantic date

jjongcaprio: The bill’s covered. The reservation’s under your name btw

heeseung: bro i cannot ask you to do this

jjongcaprio: You don’t have to. You and I both know Y/N deserves to be wined and dined

jjongcaprio: Plus I saw you looking at a few restaurants when we were on the train. I managed to pull some strings for you and got a last minute reservation for tonight

heeseung: thank you jay…i really don’t know what i’d do without you

jjongcaprio: It’s really not a problem, bro. Promise me that you’ll try to be happy with her. The guys and I are rooting for you two

“So,” Heeseung clears his throat as he looks up from his phone, “I think you and I should go out for dinner.”

“Where are you thinking of going? I can text the others and see if they’re done sightseeing, or whatever it is they’re doing.”

“I mean just us two.” He stands awkwardly when you’ve turned your attention to him, his feet planted on the sidewalk beneath him as if that’ll help steady his beating heart.

“Like a date?”

“Yes,” he says immediately. “Like a date. I, Heeseung, am asking you out on a date. Tonight. At eight.”

“I, Y/N, would love to go on a date with you. At eight.”

The twinkle in your eye and your coy nature makes him feel like a teenager again. He leads you into the hotel and walks you to your door before stepping back as you step inside.

“We’ve got an hour and a half before we need to leave. I’ll come by and then we can walk together. The restaurant is only a five minute walk, so you can wear those new heels I know you feel guilty buying.”

“They’re really pretty though,” you rationalize.

Heeseung nods. “Gorgeous, actually. Maybe you’ll be as tall as me if you wear them.”

“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

Heeseung bites his bottom lip as you disappear behind the door, locking eyes with you until you’re completely out of sight. Flirting with you like this is a completely new phenomenon for him. He’s only daydreamed about what you might say if he said something a little too suggestive or how you might act if he dedicated a wink in your direction. Heeseung had never considered that he’d be the one flustered, cheeks reddening to the point where he starts to feel shy.

His nerves are endless as he picks out an outfit for tonight. Heeseung sends a quick text to his parents, who had pressured him into bringing nice clothes for a fancy dinner, and spends a few minutes updating them on the events of the past few days. His mother is pleased, to put it lightly, and sends a handful of emoticons to display her happiness. His father tells him words of encouragement before making Heeseung promise to bring you for dinner as his girlfriend, not just his best friend.

With the last touch of his cologne, Heeseung looks at himself in the mirror and tries not to think too hard about how he looks. You’re Y/N, his best friend since he can remember, and you’ve seen him with snot dripping from his nose.

“I look fine,” he says to himself in the mirror. “Y/N will like the look because your mom picked it out and we know those two agree on everything. Absolutely nothing to worry about.”

Heeseung’s only regret is he doesn’t have a bouquet of flowers to present you with as he makes his way to your hotel room. He wipes his palms on his trousers and takes a deep breath before knocking on your door.

When it opens, he’s met with the sight of you in a short black dress that hugs your hips to accentuate your body. The dress itself is an elegant, spaghetti strap number with a flattering neckline paired with jewelry that makes your skin appear to be glowing. Your heels match well with the dress you’ve chosen, so much so that Heeseung’s jaw drops when his eyes rake over your body.

“Wow,” he mutters. “Just…wow.”

“I’m not used to you being speechless,” you say mildly, closing the door behind you.

“You look gorgeous,” he sputters. “I shouldn’t be seen with you tonight.”

“You’re dramatic, Hee.” You give him a once over and Heeseung thinks he wouldn’t mind you checking him out as you please. “You look handsome as ever.”

He beams at the compliment and holds his arm out for you.

“Shall we?”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Heeseung knows the type of person you are and what you value, yet he still renders himself shocked when you allow him to take control of the evening. He knows you don’t need to have the expensive consequences that come with a first date or to be sipping the most luxurious wine to be happy, but Heeseung can’t help but feel like you deserve to feel as elegant as you look every once in a while.

The host leads the two of you to a table with the most gorgeous view of the Parisian scenery. The twinkling stars paired with the dimly lit restaurant adds a romantic touch to the evening. Heeseung mentally thanks Jay for preparing wine recommendations so neither of you have to think too much about it.

For a moment, he’s worried that he’s reached too far out of his depth. The fanciest thing Heeseung has ever done with you is eat ramen after prom in your best outfits because you both came to the conclusion that prom should be spent with someone you actually like. It’s funny in hindsight when he thinks about it now.

You look so beautiful like this, allowing yourself to be taken care of by him. Talking to you over the table feels like you’re back in Korea before all that transpired. The food is impeccable and Heeseung thanks his lucky stars that he and Jay got it right. You sing praises left and right.

Dinner ends much quicker than he’d like as the two of you finish dessert. The waiter tells him the bill has been taken care of and Heeseung sits in his seat awkwardly as you look out the window to see the view from outside. But he hears the live band in the background and sees a few older couples slow dancing from where he sits and makes up his mind.

“Do you want to dance?”

You pull your attention to him. For a moment, he thinks he’s asked the most absurd question known to man when he recalls all the times you refused to make a home on the dance floor until you’ve gotten at least four drinks in your system.

You surprise him.

“I’d love to, Hee.”

The room disappears when he leads you to the dance floor. He mimics the other dancers and takes the lead, swaying your bodies back and forth to the melody of the music. You smell of vanilla and cinnamon, a scent so distinctly you that it makes him grin like a man in love.

“Thank you for tonight,” you say against his neck. “I won’t lie when I say I feel like a princess.”

“That’s because you are a princess,�� Heeseung says, kissing the top of your head. “You deserve to be treated like one.”

“I can’t believe you pulled this off so quickly. Don’t restaurants like these require reservations?”

He chuckles nervously. “About that…Jay helped me with the details. I was looking up restaurants to take you to if I got the chance before our trip ended. I guess he saw the list and chose the most romantic one out of the bunch.”

“I owe Jay a thank you.”

“We both do.”

“I feel lucky to have people in my life who care about me this much,” you say. “I’m so happy you’re back in my life.”

“I’m happy to be in it.” Heeseung squeezes your waist. “Deep down, it’s always been you that I’ve loved. There’s not a single person who makes me feel the way you do.”

“Yeah?”

You feel him nod. “I’ll say it until you believe me. I’ll even yell it in this restaurant right now.”

“Please don’t,” you laugh. “I believe you.”

The sound of the melody overtakes the conversation. You feel Heeseung’s steady heartbeat as he expertly moves your bodies together on the dance floor. When you close your eyes, you think of this moment and how badly you want to commit it to memory, no longer in anguish over the tribulations of the past year. It feels nice to let go of your worries, even better that you have Heeseung back.

“I really want to kiss you,” he murmurs under his breath. You pull your head back.

“Then you should kiss me.”

Heeseung wastes no time and pulls you into him, one arm around your waist and the other behind your neck. His mouth finds yours when he decides he loves the taste of red wine on your lips. It feels poetic to be kissing you for the first time as you’re both dressed to the nines in the middle of Paris. To him, kissing you feels like a breath of fresh air and the start of something new. For you, kissing him feels like coming home.

When he pulls back, you search for his eyes.

“Take me back to the hotel,” you whisper.

Heeseung feels his heart drop.

“I’m sorry. We can go back now.”

You grip the collar of his slightly unbuttoned dress shirt when he moves. It’s only then that Heeseung sees the want in your eyes and the pure lust that clouds your pupils.

“Take me back to the hotel.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

By the time your elevator reaches your floor, Heeseung’s dress shirt is completely unbuttoned with his toned chest exposed. You’re barely able to detach yourself from his mouth when he pushes you out of the contraption. Your hand reaches for his as you pull him towards your room, digging through your purse when you feel Heeseung’s lips on the back of your neck.

“You look sexy in my jacket,” he mumbles, pressing wet kisses to your skin.

“L-Let me find the key.”

“So sexy.” His hands slide up the side of your body until he grips your waist.

When the door opens, you pull Heeseung inside with you and lock it shut before pushing his dress shirt off of his body, exposing his muscular build and broad shoulders. You aren’t shy about hiding your lust, gazing all over his chest and abdomen as you feel your core drip with arousal.

“I like it when you look at me like that,” Heeseung says. He reaches for your hand and places it on his chest. You take the liberty to glide your nails down his abdomen, feeling the way he tenses underneath your touch.

“I’m really wet,” you say as you eye the tent that has grown in Heeseung’s pants.

“Are you?” he asks. “You won’t mind if I check?”

You shake your head and Heeseung takes that as a green light, his hands finding the soft fabric of your dress before pushing his hand underneath it. He whimpers when his fingers come in contact with your wet lips. It’s adorable, the way you push yourself against him to chase his lips while he fingers smear your wetness across the fabric of your panties.

“Bed,” you mumble against his lips.

He follows where you pull him, loving the way you take control when you push him onto the mattress. Heeseung distracts himself to catch his breath from the overwhelming sense of pleasure to realize that you’ve started to undo his belt buckle and take his hard cock out of his pants.

“You don’t have to—”

“I want your cock in my mouth,” you plead, looking him in the eye. “Please let me.”

You sit politely on your knees as you unbuckle Heeseung’s pants. His chest rises and falls in anticipation and he looks down at you to see that your mouth is watering at the sight of him.

He’s already fully hard; he has been since you started unbuttoning his shirt in the elevator. You spit directly onto the tip of his cock and he bites his lip at the sudden contact before watching as you swipe your hand up and down himself.

Heeseung doesn’t want to think about how you learned to do what you’re doing to him. He doesn’t want to think about the boys you’ve kissed or the people who got to see you like this before. What he does know, however, is he’s the only person from here on out who will see you on your knees if he can help it.

Your mouth envelopes the head and Heeseung emits a short grunt. The tension between you two begins to slowly dissipate as you fit more of his cock inside of your mouth. Your tongue expertly traces every ridge and vein as you push your throat down onto him, causing Heeseung to put his palms on the mattress and throw his head back.

You hum around him when he moans. He’s itching to put his hand behind your head but refuses the idea, letting you set your own pace. Heeseung watches as you switch your angle, sitting up to rest on your knees to push your head further down on him. He witnessed as you spread your legs, a choked moan coming from his throat in conjunction with a particular gag from your mouth.

There’s spit everywhere. It’s trailing down your lips and connecting to his cock when you pull yourself from his body. It’s seeping to his pants and he’s about to speak up when your motion attaches itself to his sensitive balls, licking at its warmth while your hand strokes him from atop.

“That’s it. Fuuuuck.”

He bucks his hips once and curses. Heeseung feels your mouth envelop one of his balls, the pressure of your mouth around it making him feel a kind of euphoria he didn’t know was possible. Your mouth moves to the other to give it the same treatment before retreating back to his cock. This time, your hand massages him from below as you suck on him.

When you look up at him and wink, he decides enough is enough.

“Baby,” Heeseung pants, attempting to push your head off of him. He thinks it’s so sexy that you’re turned on while giving him a blowjob. “Baby, please stop. I don’t wanna come yet.”

You oblige and take your mouth off of him with a popping sound. You sit back and Heeseung stares at you through drooping eyelids in pure shock and amazement at how you’ve managed to pull him to a near orgasm as quickly as you did.

“Come here,” he beckons with his fingers.

He attaches his mouth to yours and pushes his tongue inside of your mouth, exploring the warm, wet walls you have to offer. Heeseung decides that he loves the feeling of your tongue against his and lets you suck on the muscle.

You take your dress off to reveal sheer panties with nothing else on. Heeseung’s jaw drops at your beauty, but he also cannot believe how sexy his best friend’s body is. To him, you were sculpted from the hands of Aphrodite herself with great love and care. And it’s all for him.

“You are so fucking sexy,” he murmurs, hovering over your body to press kisses to the valley of your chest. You let his hands roam and spread your legs to make room for him.

Heeseung’s head travels back to your chest and you watch as he envelops your right nipple in his mouth. “Your tits are just perfect.”

He makes a show out of it, hands cupping your breasts to massage them as his mouth works on you. He pushes your tits together and shoves his face between them, inhaling your scent while his tongue gathers whatever taste your body gives him. Heeseung moves to your left nipple and uses his tongue to flick the hardened bud over and over again until you’re arching your chest into his mouth.

He grinds himself into your core with his pants still loose around his legs. It brings a moan out of your throat and he swallows it whole with his lips pressed firmly against yours. The friction feels delicious with the fabric of your panties against the hardness of Heeseung’s cock. He grinds against you with the help of your hips rolling into his, your natural wetness coating his cock in your essence.

Heeseung moves his head to kiss your jawline, moving his mouth all over the expanse of your neck until he kisses right below your earlobe. You let out a particularly loud moan when he does, and Heeseung curses.

“Shit. Yeah baby, make those sounds for me. Let me hear your pretty moans.”

His mouth attacks the area again and you aren’t shy about it. Your hands tangle in his hair as he kisses your neck and grinds his cock against the wet panties, which have by now molded to the shape of your pussy.

Heeseung groans at the feeling of a particularly wet gush and lifts his hips enough to elicit a whimper out of your mouth. He experimentally lifts his hips again to align himself with you as he did before. The pressure must feel so good because your mouth hangs open with your eyes boring into his.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Does my baby feel good?” You can only nod and he doesn’t blame you. “That’s a good baby. Fuck, you’re so wet, it’s driving me crazy.”

Heeseung feels your legs wrap around him and the way your heel pushes his lower back into your core. He takes the hint and quickens his pace, wanting nothing more than to see you come for him.

“You gotta come for me now, pretty girl,” he coaxed. “You deserve to come. Won’t you do that for me?”

Heeseung is sure that he’s never seen or heard anything more erotic compared to the vision of watching you come. Your mouth opens with breathy moans as you focus on your pleasure and your eyes squeeze shut as if you’re trying to savor the moment in your mind.

“Atta girl,” Heeseung praises when your hips grind into his. He keeps himself still and lets your body take over.

You eventually come down and realize Heeseung has yet to come, but that’s the last thing on his mind. He sinks his body down to come face-to-face with your crotch and licks the come off of the soiled fabric of your panties. The sheerness gives him a sneak peek at your pussy, and he groans when he licks a slow, fat strip up your slit.

“You taste so fucking delicious, baby.” He licks at you again, faster this time. “Tastes like milk and honey.”

Heeseung kisses your wet panties over and over again, his soft lips providing jolts of pleasure. His hands roam around the soft flesh of your thighs and squeezes them as if he remembers you’re all his to touch. The feeling is one you want to commit to memory, but it seems like Heeseung knows your mind is working overtime because he reaches his hand to find yours and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

You let his hand go when he pulls it from you to slide the useless barrier down your legs and to undo the straps of your heels. He takes great care to kiss your skin tenderly, starting by your ankle and making his way down just shy of where you need him the most. Heeseung repeats the process on the other leg until he comes face to face with your glistening core, licking his lips as if he doesn’t know where to start.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he says before placing a soft kiss to your clit.

He repeats the motion, kissing your folds like they’re delicate antiquities that need to be handled with the utmost care. His lips become covered with your essence; he feels you squirm underneath him and uses the expanse of his palms to gently pry your legs open for him, soothing the soft skin of your inner thighs.

Heeseung tentatively licks your slit and decides he loves the sound of your moans when he has his mouth on you. He does it again, dragging his tongue to feel every ridge and crevice that he’s yet to explore. His mouth feels like a warm comfort with the slow pace he sets, licking you as if he’s trying to tell you how much he loves you without saying it.

“You taste divine.”

You look down below to see his hair covering his eyes and brush it away with your hands. Heeseung looks right into your soul and you feel your heart clench, causing you to roll your hips into his face. He merely buries his nose close to you until he bumps your clit with the tip, pushing his wet muscle into you deeper.

When your moans get lighter and your breathy sounds are the only audible thing in the room aside from his own moans. You open your eyes to see Heeseung humping the mattress below you. The sight is so erotic that you can’t help but let out a loud whine at the thought of Heeseung pleasuring himself while pleasuring you.

He brings his fingers to your pussy and sways his fingers back and forth until he foregoes his slow pace, favoring a faster one. He abuses your swollen clit while you can only lay there and watch him play with you. Heeseung expertly inserts his middle finger into your seeping hole and bites his lip to concentrate on getting you to come again.

“I need it,” he confesses, bringing his mouth to lick you as he adds another finger. “I need you to come for me again, baby. Can you do that for me?’

“Yes, Hee,” you pant. “I wanna come so badly.”

“You can do it, baby. You’ve been such a good girl tonight, giving me the best head and letting me make you come. I think you deserve to feel good.”

“I do,” you nod rapidly. “Fuck, I think I’m coming.”

“That’s right,” he coos, hammering his digits into you while his tongue laps up the juices leaking from your pussy. “So good. You taste so fucking good. Give it to me.”

He doesn't relent until he’s satisfied. Heeseung cleans the come from your lips as best he can while sneaking his hand to his cock, pumping himself as he tastes your orgasm on his tongue.

“You’ve crazy,” you mutter as you settle from your high, loving the feeling of Heeseung’s mouth tenderly licking you clean.

“For you.” He pulls his face away and wipes the back of his hand before pressing a kiss to your clit.

When he rises to take his pants and boxers off, he sees you with your arm covering your face.

“Are you doing okay?”

“Perfect, actually,” you sigh. You remove your arm to see him with his cock in his hands and motion him to come towards the edge of the bed as you crawl on your knees before sitting upright to pull him into a searing kiss.

“That might be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen you do,” Heeseung says against your mouth. “It’s better than porn, if I’m being honest.”

You grab his cock and stroke him. “I’ll consider letting you take a video of me when we get back home if you fuck me right now.”

“Turn around,” he says after an open-mouthed kiss.

You follow his instructions and he groans to himself as you present your perfect pussy to him again. Heeseung sinks to his knees and smacks your ass before shoving his tongue into your hole. He spreads your asscheeks apart and digs his nose against you, licking up the wetness and remnants of your orgasm like it’s his last meal. His tongue licks up your body until he finds your wrinkled muscle and presses a soft kiss to your tightest hole.

The surprise comes to him when you moan softly. Your body doesn’t jerk away. Rather, you spread your legs further for him and Heeseung moans against your pussy before bringing his tongue to lick over the muscle again.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks, dipping his tongue back in.

“Better than I imagined.”

“You imagined my tongue in your ass, baby?”

You nod. “I’ve always wanted to know what that feels like.”

Heeseung doesn’t give you a verbal answer. Instead, he spits into your hole and watches it dribble down to your pussy, licking his way from your incredibly wet folds to your hole once again. He licks over the expanse with the surface of his tongue one, twice, three times before you’re whining for his cock. He wastes no time tearing open the condom and hurriedly places it on himself.

The first stretch of his cock in your pussy makes him see Heaven. The sharp gasp that comes from your mouth is music to his ears and he’s careful to sink himself into you slowly, inch by inch until you’re telling him he can go further.

His cock impales you at such a perfect angle that it has you falling to your elbows, your back arched so perfectly that he’s sure you’d be the most popular pornstar if you really wanted to be. He keeps half of his cock in you to allow you to adjust, but he underestimates just how cock hungry you are because you back yourself until he’s filling you to the brim.

“Baby’s such a slut, isn’t she?” Heeseung wonders out loud. He grins when you nod. “I love you like that. So dirty for me.”

“Only for you,” you say, cheek pressed to the mattress when Heeseung thrusts in you.

The sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the room. It doesn’t take long for your wet juices to glisten over the back of your thighs and onto Heeseung’s. His hands find purchase on your hips as he pulls your body close to him, loving the way your choked moans become muffled by the mattress below.

“So. Fucking. Tight,” he moans with detailed thrusts. “So. Fucking. Wet.”

He climbs on the bed and plants his feet on the blankets, holding your body in place as he pounds into you from above. The angle has you seeing stars and rips moan after moan from you.

Heeseung grins wickedly. “Such a fuckable body. So perfect.”

His degradation paired with praise ignites a fire inside of you. You can only moan louder to let Heeseung know exactly how he’s making you feel and you can’t help but think you deserved to be fucked exactly the way Heeseung is fucking you.

The pleasure feels like an explosion of a thousand suns. Your body is warm from the hours you’ve spent in the hotel room and your neighbors getting a good night’s sleep is the least of your concerns. Heeseung’s cock drills into you from above like he’s a sex god and it nearly brings you to tears.

He turns you over carefully until you’re laying flat on your back with your head propped against the pillows. He steals one from you and puts it underneath the small of your back to create leverage before lining up his cock with your entrance and pushing himself in again.

Heeseung thrusts like he’s got to prove just how in love with you he is. Your wanton moans fill the room with his low grunts as his cock continually hits the one spot that makes you see stars, over and over again.

But you know he could do more to make you feel better. He must notice you in deep thought because he slows his hips.

“What is it, baby?” Heeseung asks when he notices your eyebrows knit together. “Is this okay? Do you need me to stop so we can take a break?”

“Take it off,” you whisper. His hips have faltered and his pace stutters at your words.

“Take what off?”

“The condom.” Heeseung nearly chokes. “Take the condom off.”

“Baby—”

“I just wanna feel you.”

Heeseung curses and his hips automatically drill into yours at the request out of pure shock. He can’t lie to himself. He’s thought about it multiple times since you left for Europe and as he’s come to term with his feelings for you. The cute fantasies about taking you on dates to dinner or drive in theaters transform into daydreams about dirty affairs in his bedroom with his seed leaking out of your perfect hole.

Still, he doesn’t believe it.

“Please, Hee,” you plead, arching your chest towards him. “Let me feel you. Don’t you want to come inside me?”

“Fuck,” he falters, his forehead on yours. “You can’t just say that…I can’t be risky with you.”

“Yes you can.” He watches you bite your lip and feels your hands push him off of you. Heeseung doesn’t put up a fight when he slips out of your warm hole and feels your hands grip his cock, desperately trying to tug the condom off of him.

Heeseung sees the pathetic rubber in your hands when you bring it up for him to see. It’s glistening and his mouth drools at the sight, lips parting enough as if he stares at it in disbelief. He groans lowly in your ear as he peppers a few wet kisses to your neck.

You spread your legs wider in the air and grip his cock in your head, pumping him a few times before letting his bare tip rest against your hole. His sharp intake is enough to make you bite your lip.

“Pussy’s so wet,” he says against your neck, pushing an inch inside of you. “God, I could come like this.”

“You can.”

“No, baby. Gonna fuck you the way you deserve before I come.”

With that sentiment, Heeseung pushes himself inside of you until he’s fully sheathed within your walls. He relishes the way you gasp at the sudden movement and he uses this angle to his advantage, positioning his ear next to your mouth to hear your delicious sounds.

He moves his hips at such a pace that it makes you feel like your body’s bouncing on top of the soft mattress below you. Heeseung presses his chest against yours to kiss you like his life depends on it, tongue invading the privacy of your mouth but you couldn’t care less where his mouth goes. He can feel your nipples on his skin and groans into your mouth when you clench at a particularly hard thrust.

“S-So good,” you stutter against his mouth with a breathy moan. Heeseung feels your arm around his shoulders, scratching at his back. “Fuck, fuck!”

“Mhm,” he coaxed. “Such a good baby. You look so pretty underneath me.”

With a new sense of purpose, Heeseung lifts himself to push himself into you at a deeper angle. He forces his hips into you harder, your hands coming to your chest to cup your tits to give you something to hold in the meantime.

“That’s right, beautiful. Squeeze your tits for me.”

You do, pinching and twisting your nipples until you hear Heeseung moan above you. It sounds nearly animalistic, the way his throat emits a groan that sounds so primal. He sees the dirty smile you paint your mouth with and leans his head down to press a kiss to your forehead before his hand comes to your cheeks, squeezing them between my fingers.

“You like it when I fuck you like this?” Heeseung asks, hips rolling against your own pelvis. When you nod, he gives you a nasty smile of his own and gives you a few harsh thrusts for good measure before pulling himself off of your chest with his cock still inside of you.

Heeseung sits on his knees and pulls out just far enough where his hot tip remains buried inside of you, relishing in the panty breaths you emit as he watches your chest rise and fall. You look so beautiful to him with your hair messed up against the pillow beneath you and with a few faint hickeys on your chest and neck. Heeseung thinks that all of his wildest dreams could never compare to how gorgeous you look when you’re positioned directly where he wants you.

You don’t complain when he pulls out to rest his cock on your wet, bare pussy. You wince at the loss and let him slide himself up and down, biting your lip when he grazes your swollen clit over and over again.

The man above you lifts your right leg so that he can grip you tighter. You relinquish any control left in your body as Heeseung curses and kisses the side of your ankle. He dips the head of his cock inside and thrusts shallowly as if to tease, but you know he’s exploring all the way his cock looks like against your own body.

It feels euphoric. The whole affair is dirty, but it’s the kind of dirty that makes you want to do it again. It’s the kind of dirty that makes this night an event you’ll want to remember for the rest of your night because Heeseung had poured his entire heart and soul for you to take.

For Heeseung, this pleasure is less about knowing you have him permission to put himself inside you. You’ve always been so sure of yourself and your body; it’s something Heeseung has always admired about you as a person. Growing up with your insecurities of relationships and dating might’ve made you feel like a late bloomer; to Heeseung, your tendency to keep your head straight has always been a testament to how knowledgeable you are about yourself and about others. You save yourself for people who are worthy of you, and god, does he want to be worthy of you.

“I love you,” Heeseung whispers from above you. His eyes are closed and he pays no mind to the feeling your pussy gives him. Flashes of your memories stitch together like a film reel with your laughter as the soundtrack. He doesn’t think he wants to hear anything else for the rest of his life.

Just for good measure, he whispers it again. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you.”

Heeseung opens his eyes to see your tender ones, cheeks flushed from the sudden compliment. He always liked that he knew how to get you to blush when no one else couldn’t. This time, a sense of pride blooms in his chest.

“I’ll never let you down,” he confesses. “And if I do, I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

“I know, baby.” Heeseung’s hand cups your cheek and caresses it. “I trust you.”

That’s enough for him to release your leg from his grip and pound himself into you like his life depends on bringing you to peak happiness.

Heeseung’s palms are planted firmly on either side of your body as his hips roll gracefully against yours, the hot, wet mess between the two of you splashing on both of your thighs. He watches your eyes close shut and as your back arches to relieve some of the pressure, feeling somewhat proud of himself when he watches as your hands grab at the sheets for stability.

There’s nothing that compares to watching you orgasm. Your eyebrows knit as if you’re concentrating while your mouth stands slightly ajar at the euphoric feeling of that single knot that’s threatening to come undone until it does. All of the girls he’s deluded into thinking he liked could never compare to the looks and sounds you’re making.

“That’s it,” he coaxes softly. “Cream my cock, baby. That’s a good girl.”

Heeseung feels you push and clench around him, gushing until there’s nowhere left for your come to go. He peeks down at where the two of you meet and groans when he sees his cock becoming painted in a sheer layer of white. It edges him on and the moment he locks his eyes with yours, his hips begin to stutter and he spills all he has to offer inside of you.

He comes with short breaths as if he can’t believe you’ve allowed him to do so. Your hips move up and down as if to milk him for all he’s worth while Heeseung’s trying his best to balance his body on top of yours, grateful that some of his gym workouts prevent him from completely collapsing on top of you to.

His come seeps from your bodies and he pulls out, a few droplets splattering on your pussy lips. He nudges the tip against it, smearing his paint across your canvas and marveling at the sight.

“My good girl,” he murmurs, eyes locked in at his handy work.

“I’ve never let anyone come inside of me,” you say with a fond expression. Your arm comes to brush Heeseung’s hair from his face before cradling his cheek when he looks at you in surprise.

“Really?”

You nod, biting your cheek. “Well, I always knew you were it for me. I didn’t want anyone else tainting what’s yours.”

“Mine?” he asks, catching his breath. “You mean it? You’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Hee.”

“All mine,” he mutters to himself in disbelief.

You still feel his cock working itself against you. He’s still hard, a wonder after your hours locked away in your hotel room. It makes you laugh.

“No one has ever compared to you either,” Heeseung says. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he continues toying with your pussy. “Even when I fooled myself into thinking I didn’t like you.”

You laugh. “Well that’s good to hear. I realized all the guys I went after while I was abroad either looked like you or reminded me of you.”

“I can confidently and stupidly say the same.”

Your laughs echo through the room. Heeseung pulls your body upright, not caring that your mixed come is leaking on his cock and his bare lap. He kisses you with tender care, lips moving at a slow pace while his hands roam over the expanse of your back while your hands are on his broad shoulders. Heeseung could live like this everyday if you’d let him.

You smile midway through when you feel his fully hardened cock against you. Heeseung apologizes quietly against your lips but feels you shake your head, pulling back to push him against the headboard until he’s comfortably seated.

He looks at your pussy when you hover above him, the white cream still sticking to you as you grip his cock. Heeseung can’t believe his eyes when he understands what you’re about to do. Before he can even think, you align yourself with his cock and sink until you’re stuffed with him.

“Shit,” he curses through his teeth.

“What good is coming inside of me if you don’t do it again and again, Hee?”

“That might be the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Oh, yeah?”

You don’t move just yet, opting to press small kisses to Heeseung’s face. You kiss his forehead, both temples, his nose, both eyelids, and the apples of his cheeks before placing a kiss to his lips.

“Before we leave, I want you to fuck me against that window,” you say, turning your head to the window that glimpses the city below.

“But people can see,” is Heeseung’s first comment.

“So?”

He chokes and when you feel his cock twitch inside of you, you can’t help but laugh at him.

“I’ve heard talk about your escapades, Lee. Why so shy with me?”

He smacks your asscheek. “Naughty girl. Didn’t know you were nasty like that.” Heeseung gives you that kind of teasing smile that has you folding for him all over again. “Alright then, humor me. What else do you want to do before we leave?”

“I’d love to give you a blowjob while we shower, too.”

“That can certainly be arranged. Anything else?”

You look around the room. “I kind of want to see you eat me out while I sit on the desk chair. Makes me think you’re some kind of secretary who’s desperate for my pussy.”

“I am desperate for your pussy,” Heeseung reminds you. “What if I’m the stone cold CEO and you’re the cute secretary whose ass I dream about?”

You swat his chest. “This is my fantasy. You can have yours when we get home.”

Heeseung raises his eyebrow. “Mm, you sure?”

“Positively,” you nod. Heeseung’s hands travel from your ass to your hips and guides you up and down his cock, letting you set the pace after the brutal first round from a few minutes prior.

“Gonna fuck you in and on my car, since you like being watched so much,” Heeseung teases. His words seem to make your pussy clench and hips move faster. He forgoes any shyness when speaking about his fantasies and spills his every thought.

“I always thought you looked so cute in your old school uniform. I’ve always wanted to take you in that skirt they gave you.”

“I’ll buy one of those sexy schoolgirl costumes and surprise you for your birthday,” you say, locking your eyes with him. “Oh, professor! Is there anything I can do to raise my grade?”

Heeseung laughs at your antics, but the images of you in the costume aforementioned makes his grip on your body tighter.

“I selfishly want to watch you suck me off while I play with the guys.” He says it in a way that makes him avert his gaze and you can see a faint blush on his face. “I-I saw this video on Twitter. It looks hot.”

“I can do that for you.” You kiss both of his burning cheeks.

“But mostly, I just want you to sit on my face. Mad at me? Sit on my face. Sad? Sit on my face. Happy to see me? Sit on my face.”

“Simp,” you grunt, thighs burning from pushing yourself on and off of Heeseung’s cock.

“And proud.” He smacks both ass cheeks again. “Now what do you say, baby? If you ride me until you come, you can blow me in the bathroom before I fuck you in front of the entirety of Paris. Can you do that for me?”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The next morning, you meet Heeseung and the rest of the guys in the lobby while Jay checks out on behalf of all of you. Jake’s the first to see you coming.

“You’re glowing and I don’t know if I like that.” He raises his eyebrow at Heeseung, who has pulled you into him by your waist.

“At least some of us are getting laid,” you retort. “I don’t recall seeing anyone do the walk of shame even though you had the room to yourself.”

Riki and Sunoo don’t try to contain their laughter as Jake’s cheeks turn a shade of pink. He rolls his eyes when you look at him, but shakes his head and punches your arm with your first.

“Nah, I’m really glad you two got that out of your system and worked it out.”

“You guys had major sexual tension,” Sunoo comments.

“Thank God Y/N’s room was at the end of the hall,” says Sunghoon. “I don’t know how their neighbors felt but I can sleep peacefully knowing I didn’t have to hear all of that.”

“Okay, enough,” Heeseung laughs. “We get it, we had a lot of sexual tension and now we’re fine.”

“So you guys are boyfriend-girlfriend?” Jungwon asks.

“Y/N is my girlfriend and I am her boyfriend.”

“I will key his car if he hurts you again,” Riki tells you, looking at Heeseung after he’s finished speaking. You detach yourself from his waist and bring your arms around Riki to give him a squeeze.

“Thanks, Riki.”

“Okay, we should call the cabs right now so we can get to the airport early,” Jay says from behind you.

“Jay is such a dad,” Jungwon whispers.

He pays no mind to Jungwon’s words, instead focusing on the way Heeseung pulls you into his chest. It warms his heart in ways he can’t explain.

“Congratulations, you two. Let’s go home.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 21 days ago

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Cannibals [Chapter 6: Ladybugs and Dragonflies]

Series summary: You are his sister, his lover, his betrothed despite everyone else’s protests; you have always belonged to Aemond and believe you always will. But on the night he returns from Storm’s End with horrifying news, the trajectories of your lives are irrevocably changed. Will the war of succession make your bond permanent, or destroy the twisted and fanatical love you share?

Chapter warnings: Language, a bit of sexual content (18+ readers only), references to war-related violence, pregnancy/childbirth/etc., Red and Jace should go on Marriage Boot Camp, Lady Caro tries to bond with her weird replacement daughter, a little animal abuse??

Word count: 6.2k

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“How many people has he killed?” you ask as Jace takes your arm—not like Aemond would, not crushing and bruising but gently as if you are a creature with thin fragile bones, a blue jay or a bat—and leads you out of the Great Hall. The men still gathered around the letter on the table glance at you without knowing what to feel. As Jace’s wife you are their princess, you are their future queen, and yet you are Aemond’s sister and perhaps much more than that as well. Why else would he have abruptly fled Dragonstone to ravage the Riverlands, leaving Criston’s army vulnerable and scrambling to catch up?

“Thousands,” Jace says. “And there will be many more who starve because he’s torched their granaries and livestock. He’s sending ravens to the noble houses swearing that the dying will continue until you are returned to him.”

Thousands of people? Women like Mother and Helaena, children like Jaehaera and Maelor. “Let me write to him. I’ll tell him that I’m safe in hiding and not to harm any more noncombatants—”

“You think the Greens care about them?” Jace snaps as he brings you into the castle library, sparse and dusty, and you cannot help but remember the long hours Aemond spent in the Red Keep studying history, war, suturing, High Valyrian, the heroes of legends, the secrets of your body. “Daeron and Tessarion are burning people alive in the Reach. The Lannister army is pillaging every town they march through as they make their way east.”

“Jace, please, let me try.”

“Aemond isn’t going to believe a letter just because it claims to come from you.”

“There are things I can say that no one else would understand, and so he’ll know it’s really me and that I’m not acting against my will—”

“You’re not writing to him!” Jace shouts, and then collapses into a chair of pale lavender velvet and rubs his face with both hands. And you know—because he’s not someone who can easily hide what he’s feeling—that Jace is not just exhausted and frustrated but afraid. Afraid of the devastation Aemond sows, afraid of the hold he evidently still has over you. “It’s difficult for you to love someone like me, I think.”

“Yes,” you admit softly. “But I’m trying.”

Jace glares up at you; you have disappointed him. You have proven his suspicions true. “I don’t want it to take effort.”

“Isn’t it difficult for you too, Jace? To have affection for me? To see me as your wife instead of a captive enemy?”

“No,” he says. “Not anymore.”

You stand in the small neglected library—dust motes wheeling in cold grey daylight, dim nausea still churning in your belly—and watch him, feeling disoriented, feeling guilty, knowing there is nothing you can say that will help. It’s just like when Mother or Grandsire used to hint at your relationship with Aemond, grimacing with revulsion; you cannot make the accusations go away, you can only deflect. “Why would Aemond think I’m in the Riverlands?”

Jace sighs deeply, slumps in his chair, and runs his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. Maybe because Daemon’s at Harrenhal, and Aemond assumes he arranged your travel.”

Caraxes and Sheepstealer. Can Vhagar survive them both? “Aemond won’t try to take Harrenhal, will he?”

“He might!” Jace says, throwing up his hands with exasperation. “He’s reckless, he’s bloodthirsty, he’s insane, only the gods know where his lunacy will end.”

You don’t respond to this, though it is your instinct to. He’s not insane. He once promised to find me, and now he’s keeping his word.

“Isn’t he worried he’ll harm you?” Jace mutters, almost to himself. “If he’s attacking so indiscriminately, couldn’t he inadvertently burn you too?”

“He thinks he would be able to feel it if I was close by.”

Jace stares at you. “How would he possibly know that?”

“There are a lot of things you don’t understand.”

“About him?” Jace says spitefully, as if trying to decipher Aemond’s madness is beneath him.

“About us.”

Jace studies you. “What was the nature of your relationship?” he asks after a while, and then when you hesitate: “It must have meant a lot to you both. You’re still protecting him, he’s burning down the realm for you.”

“It’s in the past.”

“But it still matters.”

“I haven’t asked you about Baela.”

“She’s not a part of this war, she’s not here anymore. Aegon saw to that. He murdered her.” Jace’s expression softens, and his voice goes tender. “We need to learn to be truthful with each other. To respect each other, to be in harmony.”

“So you don’t repeat the sins of your parents,” you fling at him like a stone.

“Yes,” Jace agrees. “And because I love you.”

“Why do you keep using that word?”

“Because we’re married.”

“You don’t know who I am.”

“I want to. But you have to let me do it.”

“You won’t like the real me.” No one does. No one except Aegon, Helaena, Daeron, Aemond.

Again Jace asks: “What was the nature of your relationship?”

You look helplessly at the books stacked on the shelves, chronicles of plants, animals, ailments, battles, gods, heroes, dragons. Mounted high on the wall is Lady Forlorn, the Valyrian steel longsword of House Corbray, possessed by the elderly Lord Leowyn but no longer wielded by him. If you stood on your tiptoes, you would be able to reach it. Near the center of the room is a large globe of the world with the unknown reaches left blank. You walk to it, spin it slowly, stop when your fingertips land on the broken ruins of Old Valyria.

I wish we were still there. That’s where we belong. Aemond and I would be married, and Aegon would be unburned, and Jaehaerys would still be alive, and perhaps I’d even have a dragon.

“You and Aemond were close,” Jace says.

“Yes,” you confess.

“Mother said that Alicent told her you shared a flirtation.”

“We did.”

“And that entailed…what?”

“Just words, mostly.”

“You’re lying.” Jace stands and rages to you, his words halfway between a threat and a plea. “Stop lying to me.”

You can’t catch your breath, you can’t think. Your skull pulses hotly, your stomach roils, the scar on the left side of your chest aches where Aemond stitched you back together. Jace can’t hurt me, he can’t break our mothers’ pact and undo this marriage. Not if I’m carrying his child. “Jace, I don’t feel well—”

“You know about your body. The way you kiss, the way you move, the High Valyrian…you learned it somewhere.” And you can see in Jace’s face—the attractive yet unextraordinary face of a Strong—that he is terrified you learned it from Aemond. “What did you do with him?”

Your head feels like a shell struck with a mallet, splintering, shattering. Your arteries and veins have turned to currents of magma beneath the black volcanic rocks of Dragonstone. “Everything except what happened on our wedding night.”

Jace’s dark eyes widen, then drop to your breasts, your waist, your hips. “Everything…?”

“Except that, yes. What could result in a child was saved for my husband.” Aemond could never father a bastard. He would sooner die than debase himself like Rhaenyra did.

“You mean…surely you didn’t…” Still, Jace is gaping at you, his words slow and stunned. “I’ve heard stories from the soldiers, vulgar and wicked, strange ways of coupling, sins they commit with whores in brothels so they don’t leave children in their bellies to be murdered or abandoned…but…but you’re not…”

“Then you are adequately educated and we need not expound on it further. You got the truth you asked for. I hope you’re satisfied.”

Jace reaches for the sword at his belt, grips the hilt, then releases it. Instead he kicks over the globe—it hits the stone floor with a reverberating boom—and points to the door. “Get out of my sight.”

“Why are you mad at me?!” You are drained and dismayed, and then you’re furious. “I answered your questions, I was honest with you. You wanted to be in harmony and you believed this is what it would take. I tried to protect you from it. You insisted upon being hurt.”

“You told me you were a virgin.”

“And I was, you know that.”

“But he still fucked you,” Jace hisses. “In every other way. Things no decent lady would ever do. So that, what, he could rob your future husband? So he could degrade and humiliate you?”

“It wasn’t about that! He wanted to feel close to me, he wanted to please me, and perhaps you don’t care about pleasing a woman but I know for a fact Aemond did.”

Jace turns away from you. Again, his hand rests on the hilt of his blade. “You’re sinful, you’re disgusting. I can’t believe I’m fated to be bound to you for a lifetime.”

“You aren’t a Targaryen,” you seethe in High Valyrian, words you know he can’t comprehend, and you can feel your gaze scorching and cold mountain air on your bared teeth. “You can’t fathom the fury, the lust, the violence, the fire and the blood. We aren’t like the people of any other house. And we aren’t supposed to be.”

“Stop it,” Jace orders you.

“You’re not the blood of the dragon. You’re just some bastard built of ordinary things.”

“Get out!” Jace roars, and you flee from the library, from the castle, yanking on your boots and fox fur coat left by the entranceway and bolting out into the snow. It is halfway up your shins and coated with a layer of ice that crunches as you plod through it towards the tree line. You aren’t supposed to go into the forest of towering pines—not even with guards, and certainly not alone—but all your life you have been doing things you aren’t supposed to and it hasn’t killed you yet, and even if it did this time, what would be lost? Your imprisonment with a man who hates you? Cold snowbound misery here in some forgotten corner of the Vale?

I can’t save Aemond. Jace will never listen to me now.

Under the shade of the pines, so thick their dark green needles interlace like lovers’ fingers and blot out the sunless grey daylight, you find a felled tree and push snow off the trunk with the sleeves of your coat. Then you climb up onto it to sit, your boots swinging just off the ground, a frigid breeze billowing down from the Mountains of the Moon to make you shudder. Your right hand settles on your belly, where you are increasingly sure—now that you think back to how long it’s been since your last bleeding—that you are carrying Jace’s child. You don’t want it there, you have no maternal inclinations toward it whatsoever. You wonder if you can somehow sneak unnoticed into the storeroom of the maester here at Heart’s Home and find the ingredients for moon tea. But you don’t know how to brew it. You’ve never had any need of it before.

I’m not in the Riverlands, you think as loudly as you can, peering up into the trees and listening for the deep rumbling of Vhagar’s screams, the maelstrom of wind she stirs up. Aemond, I’m here in the Vale with House Corbray. Come find me. Come bring me home.

But you’ve never been able to make him hear you by your own volition, just like you can’t control your glimpses into his mind. And you fear Aemond wouldn’t want you back the way you are now.

Whether Jace or Aemond, either would be convinced the other ruined me.

You don’t feel ruined. You don’t feel like a different person at all; you don’t believe that any man has ever changed your strangeness, your desire, your love, your ferocity, your dreams of flying. But the world seems so fixed in its rules, and Old Valyria is gone, and perhaps now the Targaryens and their dragons are meant to be too.

There is the sound of crunching snow, and you look around expecting to see a bear or a shadowcat, something to maul you to death and drag your carcass away to be picked to the bones. Instead, it is Jace, and he has hurried outside in such a rush that he has forgotten his coat. He stops when he sees you and stands there silently in his black and red, the colors of his mother’s house, shivering but trying not to show it.

“You aren’t supposed to be out here,” he says at last.

“I know.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“And you’d be so devastated if I was devoured by a shadowcat.”

Jace sighs and pulls himself up onto the tree trunk to sit beside you. “My father had a temper,” he says, then flushes and gazes down at his own footprints in the snow, ashamed. “Harwin Strong, I mean. He had a temper.”

You are gentler with him now. It must be painful to lose a father who cares about you. “Yes, I’ve heard that.”

Jace looks over at you. “Did you have a choice in the matter?” With what happened with Aemond, he means.

Mother’s words echo in your throbbing skull: You don’t know better. You never had a choice. “It felt like I did at the time. Now I’m not so sure.”

“What kind of an answer is that?”

“Did you have a choice in loving Baela?” you ask, and Jace frowns thoughtfully. “She was your circumstances, she was beyond your ability to resist. But still you grew to love her as if she had been the wife of your choosing.”

“You loved him? That monster?”

“It’s very hard to explain.”

“Did he love you?”

“I don’t know,” you reply honesty. If he did, he never said it.

Jace reaches for your right hand and you let him grasp it. The motion is a bit awkward, but Jace is warm. Flurries fall from an overcast sky. “Neither of us wanted this match. I imagine we both fought against it with equal passion. But now it has happened, and nothing can unravel this bind we find ourselves in. We were wed in the eyes of the Seven. We consummated the marriage. You are my wife and I will never lie with another woman. And I don’t have any desire to. Whatever happened before, whatever we or our kinsmen did, we have to move beyond it. There was betrayal and death, and there was love too, and yet all of it must be worked through if this marriage is to succeed.”

“Not a simple task,” you murmur.

“No,” Jace says. “It isn’t. But I’ll try to do better. As your husband, it is my responsibility to protect and cherish you, not to be envious or cruel or wrathful. I shouldn’t have blamed you for what happened when we hated each other. I shouldn’t have ridiculed you for the effects of Aemond’s perverse influence. And I do want to know the real you, even if that hurts me sometimes.”

You watch the flurries whirl in the steel-colored air, feeling nauseous and dizzy and weary and fading away like the snowflakes melting into Jace’s dark hair. “I need to go lie down.”

Jace seems alarmed. “Are you ill?”

“I think it worked.”

He furrows his brow at you. “What worked?”

“Our efforts in the marriage bed. And in the stable.”

He blinks at you, startled, and then he smiles more luminously than you’ve ever seen him, and you think: I should be happy too. I should want this child. But I don’t, I don’t, I know I don’t. Jace rests his head against yours, his curls tickling your cheek, and whispers: “I am your family now.”

“Yes,” you say, a lie.

~~~~~~~~~~

Winter descends slowly, like a fever in reverse: cold that swims in your bloodstream, bone marrow turned to ice. Snow falls, ices over, melts on warmer days, is covered by a fresh blanket of powdery white. Daeron and the Hightower army wage war in the Reach. Aemond and the Lannister army besiege the Riverlands as Criston and his men march to join them. Aegon is missing. Sunfyre is presumed dead. Mother is still held in the dungeons of the Red Keep, along with Larys Strong, Tyland Lannister, Jasper Wylde, and a number of other political prisoners. Helaena is confined to her rooms but—as the result of Jace’s intervention—allowed to see her surviving children and walk in the garden under the supervision of armed guards. Rhaenyra rules over King’s Landing, a city that grows more restless and more hostile as Lord Celtigar’s taxes are levied and rumors of your disappearance spread. All over Westeros, people are starving and suffering and dying. And you are here, an island marooned in an ocean of mist and rocks, a remote land of the First Men and the Andals, earth you feel you do not belong on.

Jace and Vermax fly over the mountains and head south to King’s Landing, where Vermithor and Seasmoke circle high above the city and keep the riots from swelling to rebellions. You are left at Heart’s Home, and each night Sapphire flaps through the open window to visit you in your bedchamber when you are alone, and each morning you nurse your nausea and headaches in bed: mugs of cinnamon tea, toast with a thin scrape of butter and blackberry jam, nips of milk of the poppy that the maester allows you on particularly bad days.

“That is very skillful work,” he notes once when he spots your scar as he applies cold wet cloths to your throat and collarbones to bring down your fever. “Though I should not be surprised. I have heard that Maester Orwyle is among the best healers in the realm.”

“He is,” you say. “But Prince Aemond was the person who mended me.” After assassins sent by one of your Blacks beheaded a child and nearly killed me too.

But you know by the expression on the maester’s face—bewildered, disturbed, shrinking away from the unmistakable fondness in your voice—that you cannot speak of Aemond this way, that you should not speak of him at all, that no one here will ever see him as anything but the monster who murdered Luke and Rhaenys, who is presently raining dragonfire down on the Riverlands. And with each passing hour, day, week, month, you wonder if he really is a monster, and if you invented every soft moment you ever believed you shared, and if you would have chosen him if he hadn’t been the one who laid claim to you since birth.

By afternoon you are usually better, and Lady Caro drags you around trying to transform you into a woman of the Vale. She shows you how to tend to the goats and turn their milk into cheese and soap. She forces you to embroider dull scenes of snowcapped mountains and winding rivers. She sings—bellowing and off-key—the ballads of her childhood as you beg her to stop before it has some malevolent effect upon the baby. She brings you insipid-colored gowns tailored to accommodate your growing belly. She brushes your hair and tries out new styles constantly. She accompanies you for dinner each night and implores you to eat enough to make up for the breakfast and lunch you missed due to illness.

“I was horrified when my parents first told me I was to marry Lord Corbray,” she tells you one night as you dine on stew made from potatoes and peas and the meat of shaggy, black-haired yaks that roam the rugged terrain of the Vale, the fire crackling and her full cheeks ever-pink. Lady Caro is not one to ever run out of stories. She could have entire conversations all by herself, you are convinced. “I wasn’t even twenty yet and he was forty-five, and I thought that he was just…so…so old! But as it turned out, there are advantages to having an old husband. He treated me like I was the most beautiful woman in the world. He was too tired to chase after mistresses like all my sisters’ husbands did. And men with more experience…well…they understand how to please a wife in the marriage bed. Even if his male parts aren’t cooperating, he knows he has two hands and a tongue. And that’s all I’ll say!”

“I wish you’d say less,” you tease as you scoop up a spoonful of stew.

“And he was kind about it when we lost our children,” Lady Caro continues, soberly now. And she goes away, like she does sometimes, staring blankly at the window or the wall or the fireplace without seeing anything. “And then when Jessamyn was married and left for Seagard. Oh, that was an awful day for me.” Outside in the darkness wolves howl and owls hoot, and Lady Caro returns. “Do you know what Lord Corbray said to me last week?”

“What?”

“That my spirits are much improved since Prince Jacaerys brought you here. He thinks you remind me of Jessamyn, and so I get to be a mother again.”

“Did he really?”

“Yes! And of course I told him that he was absolutely mistaken, that you’re an odd and disobedient thing, always ruining your embroidery, sneaking off into the forest where you know you aren’t supposed to be, dodging all my kind words and soothing embraces. You’re nothing at all like my lovely sweet docile affectionate daughter.”

You smile mischievously. “I’m kind of like your daughter.”

Lady Caro snorts. “If you were my daughter, I’d walk straight into the ocean and drown myself.”

And you both burst out laughing, so loudly that Lord Leowyn Corbray overhears and ambles into the Great Hall to investigate the cause of the commotion.

When Jace returns, he is worn down: by the journey, by the tremendous suffering throughout the realm, by being overruled by his mother and her council. He tells you as you lie in bed together that night, Jace’s head resting on your belly and your fingers combing absentmindedly through his hair: “It never used to be this way.”

“Before the war, you mean?”

“Yeah,” Jace murmurs, kissing the place where his child lives. You wish you felt such devotion to it. You wish you felt anything. Mostly, you try to pretend it doesn’t exist. “We were able to speak kindly to each other. Mother was always reading stories and playing games with us. And Daemon…he and I were never especially close. But we didn’t quarrel. I respected him as my stepfather, and as the husband of my mother’s choosing. But he hasn’t earned that loyalty.” Jace is quiet for a while, and you assume he’s dozed off until he speaks again. “It changed all of us. Grandsire dying, Aegon trying to take Mother’s throne, Luke and Baela being killed. I suspect that in Nettles, Daemon sees Baela and my mother when she was young, and that’s why he’s grown so…attached to her.”

You wonder: Will Aemond find someone who makes him think of me?

Jace gets up to extinguish the candles. The window is closed so Sapphire can’t get in; you don’t think Jace would approve. Mosaics of the faces of your lost family hang on the walls, but when the candles are blown out no one can see them. You feel the feather mattress shift as Jace climbs back into bed and turns toward you.

“We don’t have to anymore,” you say. I’m already pregnant.

“No, you’re right. We don’t.”

But then in the darkness you reach for him—your body starving for passion, your bones cold—and this time it is slow and intense and brilliant, and Jace learns how to touch you, and although he is never as rough or as primal as you crave he does not leave you unsatisfied. And each time he and Vermax vanish into the mist-colored sky above Heart’s Home, you discover that you miss him more.

The Triarchy arrive with ninety warships at the mouth of Blackwater Bay—and you knew they were coming, but Jace didn’t—and the Sea Snake’s fleet repels them, but not before half his vessels sink to the bottom of the ocean and Seasmoke is killed by a bolt from one of the countless scorpions mounted on the Triarchy’s ships. Corlys, wounded in battle and having lost a wife, three children, a granddaughter, and a grandson, is unable to fight on and is brought to recuperate in the Red Keep. In the taverns of King’s Landing, Jace finds a Targaryen bastard called Ulf the White to ride Silverwing, who is claimed during a clandestine trip under the cover of nightfall to Dragonstone while Aemond is leagues away in the Riverlands. One less free dragon in the world, one more person judged worthy in ways you aren’t.

Without Jace’s knowledge or approval, Rhaenyra sends ravens instructing the loyal houses of the Riverlands to capture Nettles and bring her south to King’s Landing to be tried for treason. House Mooton of Maidenpool, fearful of Daemon’s retribution (as he and Caraxes are based nearby at Harrenhal), inform the prince consort of the plot. Daemon sends Nettles and Sheepstealer away—to where, exactly, no one knows—and then flies north to offer protection to Cregan Stark’s army so they will agree to invade the Riverlands. In his absence, Aemond and Vhagar take Harrenhal, and both the Lannister army and Criston’s men follow him there and dig in to wait for the Northmen.

When Jace is able to return to Heart’s Home to stay with you for a few days or a week, he tries to win your trust and show you that you have his. He tells you of the Blacks’ war strategies and that Rhaenyra has hidden Rhaena, Joffrey, and her silver-haired sons with Daemon, Aegon and Viserys, in the Eyrie with Lady Jeyne Arryn. And while Jace is here, you enjoy walking through the snow with him and visiting the horses in the stable, and at night you fall willingly into the shelter of his arms. But when he’s gone again, the pieces of yourself you have tried to smother come back to life.

You dream of being locked in a closet or a trunk and pounding on the wood for hours, but Aemond never returns to let you out. You startle when you see your reflection and don’t recognize yourself with your hair in the styles of the Vale. You recall Helaena placing ladybugs in your palms and watching them scurry up your forearms like blood drops. You feel your fingers yearning to swipe, to claw, to fight, to be pinned and overpowered. You remember when you taunted Aemond with words he once said in the garden of the Red Keep—“If I ran, do you think you could catch me?”—and he had bolted after you and chased you through the halls as you both laughed wildly, slamming each other into walls and doorframes as horrified onlookers gawked, dragging each other to the floor, until you had crawled on sore palms and knees into your bedchamber and Aemond finally caught you, rolled you onto your back, held your wrists to the floor as he climbed on top of you, and aching so badly it had put tears in your eyes you had begged for what you knew he could not yet give you.

You receive a vision through Aemond’s eye once, and only once, late on a night when Jace is hopelessly far away and you are petting Sapphire as he sits in your lap, his shiny black eyes gazing adoringly up at you and his fanlike ears twitching as they listen to your words. Abruptly you are in a different firelit bedchamber in another castle, and within Aemond’s skull is a turbulent sea of grief, fury, disgust, desire, and you see—who is that?—a flash of long dark hair.

Then Aemond is gone, but for only a few seconds he felt so close and so real that you are left breathless, broken, missing him more than you thought was possible now that you’re another man’s wife and carry his dark-haired heir in your belly.

Does he touch someone else? Does he love someone else?

You curl up on the cold stone floor and sob as Sapphire clings to your shoulder.

I can never go back to who I was before.

Then why is it so hard to forget her?

~~~~~~~~~~

Jace is gone again, and has been for weeks. You hope he is back before the baby is born. By custom, men do not enter the birthing chamber, but you still want him in the castle. It would make you feel less alone, here in the cold windswept Vale where Targaryens were never meant to be, here where an icy stream almost took your life when you were a child after Aemond pushed you in. Lady Caro and the maester say your labor will begin soon, but this seems impossible. The baby you carry has never felt real—not even when it kicks, not even when it puts aches in your spine and your hips—and you try not to think of it too much because what it makes you feel are only sinful things that anyone else would be horrified by: indifference, inconvenience, disconnection, disbelief.

You are in your bedchamber and Sapphire is here with you. He scrabbles clumsily around the floor as you work on your latest mosaic of shattered seashells. It’s the first one you’d made of Jace, and you are trying to figure out how best to place the black shards to mimic his curls. You are being a good wife. You are trying to believe that he is your family now.

The bedroom door opens and Jace sails in with his red cloak streaming out behind him, beaming now that he is home with you and his soon-to-be-born child. Before you can say anything, Sapphire takes flight and swoops at Jace, curious, benevolent, making new friends. Jace gasps and knocks him to the ground.

“Don’t!” you shriek, but it’s already happening: Jace stomps on the bat twice, but once would have been enough. Fragile bones are snapped and crushed, blood gushes out onto the grey stone floor. You’re wailing as you race across the room and cradle Sapphire’s limp body, his black and white fur a satchel of hemorrhaging organs and shifting bone splinters. His eyes are lifeless.

“What?” Jace is asking, desperate to help you but not realizing what he’s done. “What’s wrong with you? It’s a wild animal, it could give you diseases, it could harm you or the baby—”

“You know I love bats,” you sob.

“What?! No I don’t, what are you talking about?!”

“On the ship!” you shout, enraged now. “I told you on the ship when you brought me here!” When you trapped me, when you stole me.

Jace is blinking in disbelief. “That was nine months ago.”

He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t care. When he tries to comfort you, you push him away so violently his back hits the wall. You snarl at him in High Valyrian, words he cannot understand but a tone that is unmistakable: “You don’t listen to me. You don’t know me. Get out, get out, I don’t want you here.” And Jace storms out of the room simmering with his own disappointments, grieving that he will never have a wife who is sweet and compliant and comprehensible.

You want to burn Sapphire’s body so he can have the burial of a Targaryen, but the maids pour into your bedchamber and take him away as you try to fight them. They scrub his blood off the floor and make you change into a clean nightgown, and afterwards as you lie in bed with venomous tears snaking down your cheeks, you feel that everyone expects the person you were before to die and a new woman to reveal herself, but you can’t kill who you are—sometimes you wish you could, but you can’t—and there is a vague ache in your lower belly as you sink into dark, homesick dreams.

You wake at midnight in horrible pain, like the cramps you once had when you bled each month, but sharper and stronger and rather than letting up getting closer together until they are unrelenting. You stagger to the door, pink-tinged fluid leaking onto the floor, and call for the maids. They wake Lady Caro and the maester, then fetch linens and hot water and cold cloths. Lady Caro’s voice is calm, and her large hands are always there to seize with a crushing grip or help you stumble around the room. She tells you that Jace has been informed you’re in labor and that he is pacing in the library, where Lord Corbray is gamely trying to distract him.

I can’t be in labor. This baby isn’t real, this place isn’t real, I want to go home.

The maester thinks you should stay in bed, but you crawl down onto the floor and kneel there as contractions rip through you, and when he tries to urge you back into bed Lady Caro shushes him. The pain is very bad, and then awful, and then excruciating, and now you are convinced something has gone wrong and you cry out as your palms press into the cold stone floor.

“It’s not ladylike to scream,” Lady Caro says patiently, and you yowl at her and shove her away, and she laughs and comes back to cool your face with a cloth pulled from a bucket filled with snow. “It will be over soon. Right when you feel like you can no longer bear it, that’s when the baby will be born and the pain will subside.”

You look at her with sweated, exhausted terror. “Don’t pretend women don’t die doing this.” Rhaenyra’s mother Aemma did.

“Oh, they do, they do,” Lady Caro says. “But you won’t.”

Aemond would be here if I was his wife. “Please get Jace,” you tell her. “Can you bring him here? Please?”

Lady Caro glances anxiously at the maester and the maids. “Men aren’t usually permitted in the birthing chamber.”

“Please,” you moan. I’m dying. I’m afraid. I don’t want to be alone.

“Alright.” She squeezes your shoulder and then rubs your back reassuringly. “Let me go talk to him.”

It seems like Lady Caro is gone for a long time, but it must only be minutes. The maester is saying things you aren’t listening to, the maids are darting around franticly. It’s been a very long time since a baby was born in this castle. Then there are new footsteps in the room, swift and purposeful.

“I’m here,” Jace says, crouching down on the floor beside you. You clutch for him and he catches your hand, then kisses your knuckles. He chuckles nervously. “I don’t know what to do, but I’m here.”

“I’m sorry,” you whimper pitifully. “I don’t want to die with you mad at me.”

“I’m not mad,” Jace promises, and his lips travel to your cheek, your temple, your ear. “I’m not mad. I love you. I’ll get you new bats.”

There is unimaginable pain, and pressure, and blood too. Jace holds you as Lady Caro reaches beneath your red-stained nightgown and says you are almost done, a few more pushes and the baby will be here and the agony in the past; and while you still even now cannot fathom being a mother to anyone, let alone this child you cannot admit you don’t want, this encourages you. You shriek as the baby is born in a torrent of fire and blood, and Lady Caro catches him in a sheet that turns instantly from white to crimson.

“A boy!” Lady Caro is announcing, and the baby is crying as she and the maester clean him, and Jace is weeping ecstatically and asking to see his son, but you don’t even glance in his direction.

I don’t want this child, you think through the dissipating pain and the relief that the worst is over. I don’t want this life.

“Dear, you should hold him,” Lady Caro says gently, and before you can protest she places the child, no longer crying and wrapped snuggly in a blanket patterned with blue dragonflies, into your arms.

And although of course he does not look like a Targaryen—dark hair already twisting into curls, black eyelashes and Jace’s nose—when you gaze down at him it feels as if everyone you’ve ever lost has been returned to you, Aegon and Helaena and Daeron, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera and Maelor, a mother who understands you, a father who is present, Grandsire smiling proudly at you like he once smiled at Helaena, and even Aemond’s ghost (who haunts doorways and staircases, bedchambers and libraries); and when Jace marvels at the baby’s tiny wrinkled hands you know he is remembering Luke, and Harwin Strong, and Laenor Velaryon, and Baela, and he has forgiven you for all of it.

“We are your family now,” Jace says, and for the first time you believe him.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #jace x you #jace x reader #jacaerys x you #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n

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daveth-isnt-dead · 8 days ago

Text

Coalescence part 1/3

Part Two

Summary:

She’s so nervous that her breath catches in her lungs and doesn’t come back out, from her side she can hear Viktor’s foot tapping a frantic rhythm against the tiles. Without even thinking it through, her hand finds his and grabs it tight. He doesn’t pull back, if anything he holds hers even tighter. The question rises once again, unbidden. What are we? AKA: She works with Viktor for seven years, she is in love with him for five of them.

Contains: she/her pronouns, supremely slow burn, me pretending to know what science is

Word Count: 7,722

Read on AO3

What are we? She wonders, sitting across the room from the two brilliant minds behind Hextech. Not friends, certainly; colleagues barely. Strangers, probably. She hadn't exactly been looking for assistant work, but after years of flitting between different fields of study but never finding anything that really stuck, an assistant position offered her the freedom to study whatever she pleased without the looming threat of expulsion should she continue skirting the requirement of choosing a major. Heimerdinger had a hand in this, of course. She’s noticed recently, he’s had a hand in a great many things. Didn’t want to forsake a bright mind over some simple indecision, he’d argued, and then tossed her headfirst into the very new Hextech lab without much of a warning.

She mostly sits in the corner, brings coffee even though neither of them ever actually asks for it, and works on her own research well out of the way of whatever potential explosion brews on the other side of the room. They had a lengthy discussion the day she first joined, both of them up in arms as if Heimerdinger had just assigned her to keep an eye on them. He had, but she had very little interest in doing so and told them as much.

“I keep to myself.” She’d said, “You’ll forget I’m even there.” Then, remembering that she was supposed to be an assistant, added, “Unless you need something, of course.”

They rarely ever need something, at least not something that they can’t already work out between the two of them. She feels a bit like a hanger-on, and an unwanted presence, but it’s better than expulsion. So she ignores the other side of the room as best she can and quietly flips through a textbook about whatever has her attention that month. Most recently it’s pottery, and she hopes that she might be able to sneak out of the room and try her hand at the wheel in the fine arts wing of the academy before it’s locked for the evening.

She peers up from her textbook to look at the clock on the wall. It’s just an hour until then and from what she can hear behind her it seems they are still very much in the middle of something. They probably wouldn't even notice if she were to go missing.

So she closes the cover on her book and tucks it under her arm, spinning around in her chair to announce that unless they need anything, she’s headed to another department for the end of the day, only to stop in place when she realises that Jayce is missing. “How long has he been gone?” She asks, more to herself than anyone else.

Viktor, who’s hunched over a pile of notes on the other side of the room gives her a dismissive gesture over his shoulder and doesn't even bother turning around. “Only fifteen minutes, he’s getting dinner.”

“I could have done that.”

He shrugs, “He thought you seemed busy.” and then, peering at her over his shoulder, “He also thought the walk might help clear his head.” She clutches tightly at the book under her arm, suddenly feeling a bit guilty about her plan to leave early, especially with the sun already setting and Viktor now alone in the room. She bristles, almost defensively, “He really should have asked me to do it, that’s the only thing I ever do around here.”

Viktor hums, “Indeed.” She wants to get angry at first, to snap at him. It wouldn't help any though, it’s not like the two of them really wanted an assistant. How infrequently they ever ask for her help is proof enough. They wanted her here as much as she wanted to be here: very little. Even still, they’re stuck together and letting Viktor have it over something that wasn’t his fault would only make things worse. So she bites her tongue.

“What did he need to clear his head of?” She asks, trying to wrench something from him that might result in at least a shred of goodwill, “Are you having trouble?”

In the month or so that she’s been sequestered in the back corner of the lab, she hasn't overheard anything more than a minor setback, the occasional explosion. Though in her mind, an explosion is still at least a lesson in what not to do. Progress is progress. This is the first time she’s seen either of them truly stumped.

“We’re at the edge of a breakthrough.” Viktor replies, “But we cannot seem to get over it.”

Decision made, she places her book back down on the desk and starts walking over to the other side of the room, “Hard spot to be in, are you just going through your notes?” He sighs, “For now, yes. Though it hasn’t helped any.”

His desk is large enough that there’s space for her to lean up beside him. He looks tired when he peers up at her, though from what she’s seen of him, that’s pretty normal. Positioned where she is, she covers up most of the setting sun as it streams in through the window, all but for one perfect beam of it that slices down the right side of Viktor’s face, straight across his eye. Her head tilts, had they always been so golden?

“Do you want to talk through it? I’m a good listener, and saying it out loud is probably more helpful than just re-reading your notes for the hundredth time.” His brow creases, and he leans back a little further in the chair. The beam of light hits his hair now, making it shine almost orange, “Eh, I suppose it couldn’t hurt, at least until Jayce comes back.” he tilts his head in the direction of Jayce’s desk, “Go get his chair, he won’t mind.”

She does as he says, wheeling the chair over and parking herself beside Viktor, resting her elbows on the desk. He shoots her a look out the corner of his eye, and she quickly removes her elbows. “Sorry.”

“Be careful with the things on my desk, I’d prefer it didn't become more disorganised than it already is.”

“Duly noted.” She replies, instead resting her hands in her lap and rotating her chair to face him a little more directly, “Ready when you are.”

She doesn't understand all that much about his explanation, though there are little moments here and there that resonate with her, or that sound familiar enough that she can grasp the concept. Some parts she recognises from hearing the two of them talking about it behind her, but overall she’s just stunned at his retention and how quickly he elaborates on such complex topics. She leans forward in her chair, watching intently at his sharp gesticulation and the way his brow creases when he struggles to find the right word. She nods along even though she doesn't completely understand because the important thing is to get him thinking about it, whether she understands doesn't matter one bit.

“-but we’ve already established that it cannot be done that way, so all of that work just needs to be thrown away and-” “Why not?” He stops mid-thought, eyes darting to hers, stunned to hear her speak after so long. He laughs, incredulous, “Why not ? We’ve already tried it and imploded.” She still doesn't quite understand the difference between imploding and exploding, but it's irrelevant, “Did you figure out why?”

“It was too hot. We couldn’t produce enough power inside of the casing without it imploding. We did try reducing the power and adjusting the-” He cuts himself off, suddenly turning back to the desk and resting his chin in his palm. His eyes dart across the various notes and blueprints sprawled there and then after a few agonising moments he lets out a breathless chuckle, “We never tried adjusting the casing for airflow.” She smiles, the feeling of it on her lips aching with an unfamiliar fondness, “There you go.” she stands from the chair and heads back over to her desk, “I suspect you’ll be busy until Jayce gets back, then. So I might head home.” a glance at the clock confirms that the fine art wing will be well closed by now, but she finds herself not minding all that much, “Enjoy your dinner.” At first, she thinks that he isn't going to answer, the room filled with the sound of a desperate pen scraping on paper, but just as she reaches the door, he whirls around in his chair and says, “Thank you, for permitting me to talk at you for almost an hour. It helped.” What are we now? She wonders.

“I’m glad.” She says.

___

What are we? She can’t help but ask herself, giggling at Jayce’s face when his finger is met with a strong zap from a prototype that Viktor had just told him not to touch.

She still sits on the other side of the room, still makes her way through a growing pile of assorted textbooks (philosophy, currently, operatic theory last month). But now it’s different. Now Jayce calls her name with an excited wave whenever they make a new development, and Viktor regularly uses her as a springboard when he can’t get his own thoughts straight. Her favorite thing though, is when she and Jayce sit cross-legged on the floor to eat lunch, unwilling to move any of the notes and prototypes strewn across the desks to create space for eating. Viktor is hard to pull from his desk, even at lunch, but with enough prodding from Jayce, he will at least spin his chair around to face the two of them while he eats instead of remaining hunched over his work.

“Okay! Okay!” Jayce says, instinctively shaking his injured hand as if to dissipate the last of the electricity, “Don’t touch, I get it.”

Viktor huffs, but she can tell he doesn’t really mean it, “All this time and he still doesn’t know how to keep his hands to himself.” his head inclines in her direction, his expression of false irritation shattered by the crooked curl at the corner of his lips, “Can you believe this? Even after my warning.” Another laugh bubbles up and out of her, “Wouldn’t be the first time he’s touched something he shouldn't.” Jayce points an accusatory finger in her direction, “Hey! You know I didn’t realise that pastry was yours, you can’t keep holding this over my head.”

Viktor quips back with something that she doesn't quite hear, and she just laughs before spinning her chair back around and returning to her textbook. The three of them must be friends now, she thinks, peering over her shoulder to see that Jayce and Viktor have returned to working on the prototype. At the very least, they like her well enough to tell her what they are working on, even though that information is still strictly confidential outside of the lab. She has their coffee orders memorised, which must mean something. It's been over six months now and while she doesn't have much to offer scientifically, she likes knowing she's there to bounce ideas off when nothing seems to stick. She smiles to herself, flipping through her newest textbook, but retaining very little of it. The new prototype behind her is loud , it's the sort of sound she could easily tune out if it wasn't constantly stop-starting and fluctuating in pitch.

From behind her, she hears a sudden panicked stream of consonants leave Viktor’s mouth and then the aching pitch of the prototype’s whirring begins to climb and climb until there’s a loud thunk when Jayce shuts off the power. Though her shoulders tense up beside her ears, she doesn’t feel the need to turn around, “Everyone alive back there?”

Jayce lets out a breathless, nervous laugh, “Yep!”

She hears the rhythmic click of Viktor’s cane as he crosses the room and then after a moment he says, “Just having trouble getting the new prototype to resonate the way the older one did.” “Hah.” She replies, “Just be careful, another interval up and we will have lost our windows.” Silence for a moment, and then Viktor asks, “ Why? ” She spins around in her chair, the two of them are standing by the prototype, both blinking at her owlishly. Her brow furrows, “The sound.” she says, gesturing in the direction of the machine, “It’s hitting just an interval down from a high C. It’s the resonate frequency of glass, a loud enough noise matching the pitch will-”

“Yes!” Jayce exclaims, beaming wide, “The glass would begin to vibrate and then shatter.” Viktor hooks his cane over his arm and leans backward against the desk, “And this is good news, how?” She stands from her desk, buzzing with excitement, “Your resonance problem. Maybe it isn’t just about the power being produced by the crystal, maybe it’s also about the sound .”

His eyebrows jump, and then settle into a thoughtful crease as he cups his chin with his palm. “If organic magic is cast by humans, it wouldn’t be a far reach to assume that there is also a vocal component.” he hums, “If we could find a way to adjust pitch without reducing power then…” he smiles and his eyes meet hers, “You spend a good deal of time in the music wing, yes?”

She nods, “Tuning forks?”

Viktor’s smile grows wider, “Ah, like you’ve read my mind.”

She isn’t used to walking around the halls of the academy with another person beside her. Though she’s pretty comfortable with Viktor and Jayce inside of the lab these days, they rarely, if ever, spend any time together outside of it. She arrives later than they do in the mornings and leaves earlier than they do in the evenings. These days she also goes out for lunch on her own and brings the food back with her. So she keeps peering over at Viktor to make sure she is matching pace with him, clenching and unclenching her hands at her sides because she doesn’t know what she should be doing with them.

“You study music, then?” Viktor asks after several minutes of walking in complete silence.

She startles at his voice, not expecting to hear it, “On and off.” He hums, “You keep busy.” “I usually lose interest if I stay with one subject too long.” She admits, tucking her hands in the pockets of her slacks.

The silence returns, thicker than before. Viktor’s cane clicks on the tiles, the sound at least keeps her in tempo with him, so she doesn’t need to focus as hard on how quickly she’s walking. She takes a quick peek at him and sees that he’s just staring forward. The two of them are passing by a set of windows and his profile looks very sharp when backlit by the afternoon sun. It isn't often that she sees him outside the dim lighting of the lab. His eyes turn to meet hers and she quickly busies herself with picking the already cracked nail polish on one of her fingers.

“Have we been of interest to you, then?” He says, the corner of his lips turning up in a smile, “Enough that you haven’t lost it?” She hadn’t really thought about it, for the most part, she still considered her time in the lab a requirement from higher-ups at the academy, but was that all it was anymore? She shrugs a shoulder, “For now.” she smirks, “Hard to lose my attention when you continually blow things up.” Viktor tuts, “There hasn’t been a single explosion this past month, besides, it’s all part of the scientific progress, yes?”

“If you say so, I’m not exactly an authority on the subject.” The two of them turn a corner and the angle of the sun changes, Viktor squints a little when the light hits his eyes, he sighs, “To think I was about to say that it’s nice to be out in the sun.” He lifts his free arm to cover his face from the light.

She laughs, ducking her head to hide her smile, “It’s just upset with you for spurning its advances for so long.”

His brows settle in a scowl, but she can’t help smiling wider when she realises that it doesn’t reach his eyes which instead shine with a playful warmth, “Very funny.”

“I try to be.” She increases her pace a little, turning around to face him. Her backward steps slow at the sight of Viktor awash in the bright light of the afternoon sun, squinting his eyes to keep her in focus. Her continued smile is almost involuntary as she beckons him closer, “C’mon, just down the hall. If we’re quick we can get you some more sun exposure on the way back.”

The older version of the prototype hums on the bench before her, crystal spinning in a consistent whirl. It’s far less refined than their newer attempt, still assembled with whatever pieces they could find around the lab and the metal casing jitters and quakes a little under the strain. She still likes the older prototype better, all its rough edges and shaky frame, it’s a whole lot less commercial than that new chrome casing they’ve been working to perfect, but progress is progress, she supposes. As she lays three of the tuning forks out in front of her, Viktor and Jayce peer down at her expectantly and she isn’t used to feeling intimidated, so she doesn’t like it all that much.

“I’m pretty good at picking notes by ear.” she begins, “But it’s more uh…mechanical sounding than I’m used to, zippy-” her brow creases, “or zappy? Maybe?” she gestures to the forks, “it’s somewhere within this range though.”

“Go on then!” Jayce says enthusiastically, “Give it a try!” She sucks a breath in through her teeth and grabs the fork that’s tuned to a G4, lightly tapping the prongs on the corner of the bench. The vibrations run up from her fingertips all the way to her elbow and the sound is inconsistent at first, until she raises the fork up vertically and holds her hand still. From behind her, she hears a sharp exhale of breath and then Viktor’s voice much closer than she was expecting.

“Got it in one.” He says, and she peers over her shoulder to find that he’s leaned in closer to observe. He smiles, “You do have a good ear.”

He’s right, the sound emanating from the fork matches the ethereal pitch coming from the Hextech prototype so exactly that the two sounds begin to merge. She can’t help the smile that tugs at her lips, “Well, I guess the two of you need to figure out how to get your new prototype to hit a G4.” She spins her chair around and passes the tuning fork to Viktor, the sound comes to an abrupt stop when the prongs make contact with his palm, “My work here is done, I’ll be at my desk if you need me.”

She has the weekend off, and the day she comes back Jayce immediately grabs her hand and tugs her over to the other side of the lab with such enthusiasm that she almost topples over. She doesn't even have time to put down her bag. He beams from ear to ear as he positions her in front of the bench the prototype has taken up full-time residence on. Viktor is sitting at the bench, finishing up some last-minute wire connections when she arrives. He spins his chair to face her, and removes his goggles (leaving red rings around his eyes that she resists the urge to tease him about later) before rolling himself out of the way.

“Watch!” Jayce says enthusiastically, stepping towards the device and turning it on. As before, the crystal begins to spin, faster and faster, the casing whining under the pressure as the power builds but fails to resonate. Then from the other end of the desk, Viktor picks up a small remote connected by a set of wires and as he adjusts the knobs, the sound that the crystal creates adjusts in pitch, warbling and quivering until it settles confidently on a perfect clear G4.

A laugh escapes her, unbidden and she oddly feels like she might start crying. Jayce grabs both her hands and exclaims, “We did it!” “You did it!” She returns excitedly.

“ We did it.” Viktor corrects, and she suddenly realises that we now includes her.

Friends. She confirms to herself, standing up on her toes so she can wrap her arms around Jayce, she gazes at Viktor from over his shoulder and is pleased to find his eyes look especially warm when he smiles. Friends, she reiterates.

___

The next six months pass quickly. With the resonance problem fixed, the rest of the research and prototype building seemed to come easily, with only a few notable explosions. Most of the work was still theoretical and Viktor spent hours glowering at the blackboard while Jayce put things together and then pulled them apart. Lots of the original prototypes were cannibalised for parts and she hates to see them go. Jayce was a good sport when the first prototype they ever made had to be put in storage to clear up space, laughing with her as they wrote a terrible farewell poem for it. Viktor did rest a comforting hand on her shoulder as she acted out an exaggerated goodbye to the project because even though the faux waterworks were in jest, it was as if he could somehow tell that her insides ached at the ever-persistent march of change.

Much of the stress in the lab was around the looming threat of presenting their ideas to the council for more funding, diagrams needed to be drawn and chicken scratch notes needed to be copied into a much more legible format. That was her job for a while, hunching over her desk and transcribing notes, yelling at Jayce over her shoulder for his miserable handwriting and calling Viktor over for translations on what she started affectionately calling ‘Viktor-isms’

“You can’t keep giving new concepts names without explaining what they relate to.”

He scoffed, “I think it’s fairly obvious what an AOE Expansion Stabalisor is.”

She looked at him over her shoulder, incredulous, “Will it be obvious to Councilor Hoskel?”

Viktor cringed, “Ehh…allow me to draw up a diagram.”

Her best asset these days is her ability to boil down complicated concepts to their most simple forms. To essentially translate the inner workings of geniuses to something comprehensible by the layman. She has a large bound book that she is compiling all of the most essential notes into and a presentation that she is helping Jayce to draft.

“Oh, I’ll help you write it, but I’m not speaking.” Jayce huffed, “But Viktor says he doesn’t want to speak either! It’ll just be me up there.” She laughed and gently punched him in the shoulder, “I’m sure you’ll knock ‘em dead, big guy.”

They aren’t just friends anymore. They’re something else. Something closer to family. She spends more time in the lab than she used to, abandoning her textbooks to instead work on the presentation, to sit and listen as Viktor goes on one of his hour-long rambles that slowly starts to become more comprehensible the more she listens to them. She likes listening to them. The smiles on their faces when she first decided to come in on a weekend even though she didn’t have to are still burned into her brain. Jayce’s smile was as bright as it always is, while Viktor’s was subtler, quieter; but to her, it was utterly incandescent and she couldn’t shake it from the corners of her mind for the next few hours.

“Miss?” A voice says, ripping her from her musings and back into the present.

She blinks a few times, remembering where she is and then replies, “Sorry, Professor Heimerdinger, what did you ask?”

“No worries at all, dear girl.” He says, adjusting himself in his seat, “It’s been over a year now since I first asked you to work in the Hextech lab and I just wanted to make sure the three of you were getting along.”

“We are.” She replies sincerely, “Very well.” Viktor falls asleep in the lab sometimes. One winter afternoon she found him asleep at his desk and couldn’t bear to wake him up, so quickly and quietly, she left the lab and hurried across campus to her dorm room to grab one of her spare blankets. He hadn’t stirred while she was gone, so she took the time to tuck it around his shoulders before returning to her desk. Jayce cames in an hour later and she gestured furiously to Viktor’s sleeping form before he could let out one of his usual, very loud greetings. Holding a finger to his lips, Jayce nodded and they both silently returned to work. The blanket lives in the lab now.

“That’s good, very good,” Heimerdinger says with a nod. His white eyebrows curve in a sympathetic arch and he leans forward in his chair, “I know that it was a shock to find that your patron had withdrawn their support last year, and while this likely wasn’t what you wanted I hope that it was of some value to you.” He laughs, “Though I do also think those boys need someone keeping an eye on them.”

She laughs, “Even now? They’re making steady progress, I’m not certain they need much monitoring.” “I know from experience that a scientist can so easily become trapped in a box of his own making, but with all your studying and your knowledge across such a wide breadth of subjects, I’m not sure those boys could keep you in a box if they tried.” He smiles softly, “They need that, or they won’t get anywhere.”

“Oh… thank you.” She mutters, pretending to be very interested in whatever is going on outside the window to avoid having to reconcile what sounded like a very genuine compliment.

“You don’t have to stay in the lab with them if you no longer want to.” Heimerdinger says quietly, “I’m essentially your patron now and I can easily assign you to another department if-” “No!” She says sharply, then shakes her head, “Sorry, that was rude. Um, I mean, no thank you. I’m happy where I am.” Heimerdinger chuckles to himself, “Well then, are you majoring in the sciences after all?” She snorts, “ No , I don’t have the brains for it.”

Two weeks ago she caught a miscalculation in Jayce’s notes, prevented the destruction of yet another prototype. It was just pattern recognition though, she’d become so familiar with the strings of numbers and formulas in their notes that the anomaly practically screamed out to her in bleeding red writing. She was better at understanding what they spoke about now, and able to help with wiring when either of them needed extra hands, but that’s just retention, muscle memory.

Despite her depreciation, Heimerdinger smiles knowingly, “That, I find hard to believe.”

Just a week later she sits next to Viktor in the council room, eyes darting across the expressions of the council members trying to gauge any sort of reaction. She knew they had Councillor Medarda’s vote at the very least, but she’d never even been in the council room before now and had absolutely no way of knowing what direction each of them swayed.

He must see the look on her face, because, in hushed tones, Viktor starts giving her the limited information he has, “Hoskel will vote the same direction as Medarda” he begins, leaning close to her ear, “Kiramman has a soft spot for Jayce, Heimerdinger has hopefully swung in our direction but other than that, I have no idea.”

She swallows and turns to look at him, “No, thank you, that helps.” she heaves an uneasy breath in her throat, “I don’t like it in here.” Viktor chuckles, “Me either, but look at Jayce go, there’s a reason he’s the face of this operation.”

It’s true, he’s a natural. While she sits completely tense in the shadows, he gesticulates just enough and speaks at just the right volume. She spent so long helping him to perfect the script for the presentation that she can practically follow it along with him.

Then it comes time for him to show the new prototype, the final version, the one that sings a perfect G4 and resides in a casing that doesn’t rattle or whine even when the gemstone is generating full power. She’s so nervous that her breath catches in her lungs and doesn’t come back out, from her side she can hear Viktor’s foot tapping a frantic rhythm against the tiles. Without even thinking it through, her hand finds his and grabs it tight. He doesn’t pull back, if anything he holds hers even tighter and they both hold their breath as Jayce activates the prototype.

A clear and beautiful G4 fills the room, an angelic hum that sounds like magic in and of itself. When all the tensed muscles in her body release, it takes all her willpower not to burst into tears or laughter of utter relief and when she turns to Viktor he looks exactly the way she feels; exhilarated, soft and warm after months of anxiety just melted from him. He smiles and oh god.

The question becomes more singular, we now refers to two people instead of three and oh god , what are we?

___

What are we? She wonders one year later, frozen in the doorway of her childhood bedroom, holding her breath as if it will prevent him from noticing she’s there. Viktor stands beside her single bed, weight resting on his cane as he leans forward to peek at the old doodles she pinned to the corkboard years ago. He’s smiling.

Bringing both Jayce and Viktor to her father’s house had not been on the docket earlier in the day, but sometimes fate has its own ideas. The next and hopefully last presentation to the council is coming up tomorrow morning and they have spent the last few months working on a 1:250 scale recreation of the final idea. It took a long time, but it’s finally gotten to the point that they can reliably transport a medium-sized object from one side of the room to the other and if they push the power, they can even manage to move something halfway across campus.

It was her idea to provide a more accurate visual aid, that if they were planning to push the project as a vessel for trade routes, the council would likely grasp the idea better if the object they were transporting actually looked like a dirigible, instead of the old metal crate they had been using during tests. While Jayce agreed with the idea, it had come pretty late during preparation and he was worried that there wouldn’t been time to get it finished while they also worked together on drafting the presentation. It was Viktor who insisted on building it.

“I used to assemble these sorts of contraptions for fun .” He’d said, already arranging a collection of metal pieces on his workbench, “Besides, I’m going to be far more useful working on this than I am working on your script.” He peered at her from over his shoulder, “I don’t share your gift for linguistics.”

So while she and Jayce poured over notes and collected the most legible blueprints they had available, Viktor tinkered at his desk, welding and folding metal. It didn’t take him long at all to finish it, two whole days in the lab with very brief breaks for meals when she or Jayce forced him to eat something and a trip or two to the textile department for the fabric components. She had a great deal of fun inflating the miniature airship and shooting it back and forth through the miniature Hexgate, but the night before the presentation they were overcome with concern at just how long it took for the dirigible to appear on the other side of the room.

Viktor huffed and pushed his hair out of his face as he stared at it, “It should only take a second for it to make the journey, but now it’s taking four .” He pinched the bridge of his nose, “It must be something to do with the shape? Previously we were using a square object, far less complex.”

So he and Jayce set to adjusting the prototype while she made a few last-minute changes to Jayce’s speech. The problem came when they tested the Hexgate one last time, they had overcorrected and the dirigible emerged on the other side of the room at a greater forward velocity than they had been expecting and collided directly with a pile of discarded scrap metal. Her head shot up from her desk just in time to watch as it started falling to the ground, kicking her chair out from behind her and diving for the airship, letting out a grunt as the heavy object landed in her arms.

Luckily she had been quick enough on her feet to prevent any structural damage, but the collision had torn a hole in the fabric and unless they managed to get that fixed before the sun came up, it wasn’t going to fly during the presentation.

“It’s okay!” She said quickly, the moment she caught the look of quiet horror on the inventors’ faces, “The textile wing will be closed, but I have a sewing machine.” “In your dorm?” Jayce asked, expression quickly losing the air of misery it had just a moment ago.

She grimaced, “No. not in my dorm and you’ll both have to come, I can’t carry this thing on my own and I probably need to disconnect the fabric so I can put it through the machine.”

Presently, her hand grips tightly to the open doorway, still holding her breath as she watches Viktor rest his cane against the bedside table and take a seat on her childhood bed, leaning down quickly to rub at the muscles in his bad leg. When his eyes dart up and he sees her, he freezes, “Oh, hello.” he clears his throat, “I got lost.” She snorts, “How could you get lost in a two-bedroom house?” she leans against the doorframe, unable to stop her smile, “You’re a terrible liar.” “I wasn’t lying.” “If you say so.” She replies, looking down at her toes just to avoid the broiling gold of his eyes, “I’ve got the machine set up on the kitchen table, so if you’re done snooping -” “I wasn’t snooping .” He interrupts.

She crosses her arms, finding that she likes the incredulous expression he’s making, almost as much as she likes seeing the sharp lines of him juxtaposed with her soft floral bedsheets, “Then what were you doing?”

He sits up straight, loosely gesturing to her corkboard, “Admiring your work.” His expression settles into a soft smile, “Were you looking to study textiles when you joined the academy?” It’s been a long time since she’s been in this room. She visits when she gets the chance, but always heads back to her dorm instead of staying the night. The corkboard is covered with old clothing designs, swatches of fabric, and a button here and there. She shakes her head, “No, not really. It’s uh, it’s the family business. I haven’t thought about it all that much since taking up studying.”

“You said that your father wouldn't be here.” She nods, “He’s at the workshop, tomorrow is the busiest day of the week. He usually stays there the night before so he can get a head start in the morning.” a sigh escapes her, “My mother used to force him to come home every night, but, well…” Viktor doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.

“My patron was one of my father’s customers. He offered to do his alterations free so long as he took care of my patronage at the academy.” She chews on her lower lip, not really sure why she is telling him all of this, “I think he expected to make some money from me, that I was some sort of genius, but I was indecisive and refused to major in anything, so he withdrew support.” Viktor laughs, “Bad luck for him then.” he says, wincing a little as he pulls himself back up from the bed, “You’re one-third of Hextech now.” She hums aloud as he crosses the room, shifting in the doorway to give him space to slip past. “Yeah,” she replies and the hand not on his cane rests briefly on her upper arm as he passes, lingering maybe a little longer than it needed to, “I guess I am.”

Her body goes slack against the doorframe, her chest expanding with a warm sigh as she watches him turn the corner to the kitchen, clearly not lost. Their relationship hasn’t changed all that much in the past year, they joke around a lot more and physical contact is more common, though it’s little more than a hand on a shoulder or the usual tight handholding at any and all presentations they give to the council. They’re friends, she reasons and whatever in her heart is telling her that it’s something else is just causing problems, an unnecessary ache. She sighs again, peering into her bedroom and imagining him still sitting there, smiling at her. It’s only when Jayce calls her name that she manages to recollect herself, calling out a quick, “I’m coming!” before they start wondering why she’s lagging behind.

___

Has something changed? She wonders. Even with the tall ceilings and open windows, the ballroom she’s trapped in feels suffocating. She sucks a shaky breath in through her teeth and continues clutching the stem of a champagne glass she’s been holding for over an hour now without actually drinking it. Jayce is planning to give an address shortly, about the success of the recently completed Hexgates, but he rightly refuses to start until Viktor arrives and it’s been long enough that she’s starting to worry he may have decided not to come altogether.

The last two and a half years were the most difficult for the three of them. A project of such an enormous scale takes up a lot of time and a great deal more hands than the team alone could provide. Viktor quickly learned that he hated working with other people, and most nights at the lab were spent making changes to blueprints, running tests and complaining about the construction team.

“I swear-” Viktor began one day, furiously scribbling notes on a blueprint, “-I wouldn’t be surprised to find that one of those people ate all of our crystals just because I didn’t specially label them inedible .” She’d laughed, sitting at the desk next to him and updating the construction resources with less technical language, “Be nice. If I hadn’t been eavesdropping on you for three years I probably wouldn’t know what any of this stuff means either.” Viktor sighed, “You’ve done much more than eavesdrop .” his pen stilled for a moment and his golden eyes met hers, “I can be nice, I promise.” Without thinking, she’d let her head drop to rest on his shoulder, “I know you can.” He made no move to shift her off of him, even though the weight of her head was surely going to affect the use of his dominant hand. After a lapse of comfortable silence, he let out a chuckle and inclined his head in her direction, “That cannot be comfortable.” “It’s not.” She admitted, “Your shoulder’s pointy.” “and yet you are not moving.” “That’s right.”

“Suit yourself.” He replied, his voice barely a whisper. Before quietly returning to his writing.

Jayce grabs her attention from across the room, gesticulating wildly. She knows him well enough to immediately recognise that he is asking if she has any idea where Viktor is. All she can respond with is a concerned shrug before pointing to the nearest door, implying that she will go look for him. Jayce smiles in thanks and then returns to the gaggle of investors surrounding him. The champagne finally gets drunk, it probably would have been nicer an hour ago when it was still cold, but she needs two hands to maneuver her dress. The glass clinks when she leaves it on the nearest flat surface and starts heading to the doors, half considering never coming back, whether she finds Viktor or not.

Not that she ever makes it through the door, because she almost bumps headlong into him as he makes his way inside.

“Viktor!” She exclaims, half shocked and half relieved to see him.

His mouth twitches up in a smile, “Sorry I’m late, outfit problems.” Her eyes dart down involuntarily. His suit is mossy green and the colour brings out the gold in his eyes. He looks good and she is about to say so when she notices the rudimentary steel and leather brace on his leg. Her chest cavity fills with the ice-cold chill of dread and Viktor must see it on her face because he quickly supplies an explanation.

“Never many chairs at these things.” he says, gesturing to the brace, “A precautionary measure.”

She wants to believe him, wants so badly to believe him. The calculations all match up in her head though, him an hour late, the brace clearly made and not purchased. Four and a half years is a long time to watch someone, especially when watching as intently as she has been for at least the last two. He places more weight on his cane than he used to, and struggles to do anything that involves both hands while standing up. Even from across the lab, she can hear the way he hisses each time he has to rise from his chair and when the setting sun streams in through the window the same way it did that first month in the lab, the shadows settle deep in the hollow of his cheeks.

“Good idea.” She forces herself to say, ignoring all of the evidence because any other explanation would be preferable. Instead, she returns to what she had intended to say from the beginning, a truth far less daunting, “You look very nice, by the way. Can’t even tell you had outfit problems.” He laughs, though it sounds a little too much like a wheeze, “You’re too kind. Anyway, let’s go find Jayce before he starts worrying.” They’ve already missed the boat on that one, Jayce is in the midst of a nervous sweat when they make their way over. His eyes also dart down to the brace on Viktor’s leg, but she watches in real-time as he dismisses the thought, gives the both of them a quick hug and shakes the nerves off before his address.

“I’m surprised you survived so long without me,” Viktor says cheekily as Jayce heads over to grab Councillor Medarda’s attention.

“So am I.” She replies, peering up at him with a smile, “You know I hate these big events.” Viktor returns her smile and his face melts into such a warmth that all the signs of deterioration seem imaginary for just a moment. Somewhere across the room, Councillor Medarda clinks her glass to grab the attention of the room, but right before Jayce begins his address, Viktor leans down to her ear and whispers, “You look very nice too, sorry I didn’t say so earlier.”

The feeling of those words resonates so warmly in her chest that she can’t resist holding onto them and just as Jayce steps forward, just as the usual nerves begin to set in, Viktor’s hand reaches out and grabs hers tight. The way it always does. She smiles softly to herself and rubs her thumb across the protrusion of his knuckles in thanks. Maybe nothing has changed, not really, she might just be imagining it. Even if the bones in his fingers feel more pronounced.

Applause fills the room when Jayce finishes, at one point he even has the good grace to point out where she and Viktor are standing in the crowd, which she hates , but knows she should appreciate. He’s his usual ball of sunshine self when he comes over, beaming wide and wrapping his arms around the two of them.

“That went great !” He exclaims, hands still shaking with the usual adrenaline associated with speech giving, “I can’t believe that we’re closing the chapter on Hexgates, whoo!” Viktor chuckles and pats Jayce on the arm, “It’s still early days yet, lots of time for things to go wrong and lots of modification on the horizon.” “I know, I know . It still feels good though, doesn’t it? To have finished something?”

She laughs, “This is probably the first thing I’ve ever finished in my life, so thank you.” her eyes drift to Viktor and then quickly back to Jayce, “Both of you.”

“To finishing things!” Jayce exclaims suddenly, and follows up with, “Wait, we need drinks, one second!” “A veritable font of energy as always,” Viktor says a few seconds after Jayce disappears.

“Pretty sure he’s already had a few drinks.” Viktor looks at her cheekily, “For the nerves, I’m sure.”

“Oh yeah, definitely just for the nerves.” She replies, watching as Jayce gets caught by another throng of investors on his way over to the bar. She sighs, “Poor guy, I’m glad I don't have his charisma.” Viktor hums aloud, “Do you think he’ll know to check the balcony when he comes back?”

“It’s only the place we always frequent at these events.” His eyes light up, “That’s a yes, then?”

“Always will be.” She replies, trying not to get lost in the way his eyes crinkle in the corners. She clears her throat, “Let’s hurry, it’s too hot in here.”

It’s like a shock of electricity when his free hand presses against the small of her back and when she peers up at him to find he is already looking down at her, the question rises once again, unbidden. What are we?

#bree writes occasionally #viktor/reader #arcane #arcane fanfic #viktor x reader #viktor arcane

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just-a-sewer-goblin · 2 months ago

Text

Collars of Duty 3

MalinoisHybrid!Simon x reader

- Chapter 2 - Chapter 4 -

When Simon's not waking up, you stay by his bedside. Things start to look up, but when does life ever go smoothly?

~8,6k words

Content: hybrid AU, medical inaccuracies, nudity, talk of torture, hints at sexual abuse, probably more that I forgot

Your tired eyes are trained on Simon’s figure. It’s been more than five days by now and he still hasn’t woken up. The doctor says his body needs time to heal and is probably protecting itself by staying unconscious. It makes sense but that doesn’t mean you have to like it. It induces you with anxiety and whenever you get too far lost in your thoughts you have to wipe your sweaty palms on your pants.

Against the white sheets his ears look even darker than before. With the amount of hours you spent studying his face, you’re pretty sure you could draw him from memory by now. His nose, that might have been straight once but previously has been broken and was set badly, is slightly crooked. His thin lips, the lower one slightly fuller than the upper are parted a bit and you can catch a glimpse of his dangerous canines. If you aren’t mistaken his left fang is chipped but you’re not entirely sure from the small glimpse you got of it.

He looks almost ordinary and it’s confusing. He lays there, just a male hybrid but what he’s been through is anything but normal. Everything about him is unremarkable yet somehow it’s hard to look away. Maybe it’s the composition of his features that holds your eyes. He looks kind in his sleep, relaxed a stark contrast to how he looked in the cell. His lashes are long and you wish to see his eyes again.

Why is he not waking up? You’d take him growling and threatening you at this point if only he woke up.

The nurse comes in to take care of the wounds dressing and to clean him up. You turn away to give him privacy, keeping your eyes on the wall. It’s not like he’ll know and he probably wouldn’t care but you would not want anyone to watch your unconscious body get cleaned so you avert your eyes. And if what the doctor suspects is true then his privacy and body have been violated enough.

The nurse doesn’t talk; he’s humming while working to take care of Simon’s body and it’s nice to hear something that sounds positive even if it’s only a song and not good news. The quiet rustling of the sheets somehow calms your mind. Everyone is doing their best, you remind yourself.

Before leaving the nurse asks you if you need anything and you decline with a thankful smile.

Once more you look at Simon, his arms now resting on the covers instead of under them. His hands are big, his nails dirty and you almost reach out to hold the uninjured – well, less injured - one. Something holds you back from doing it.

With the things Simon probably went through he’s been touched without his permission enough. Even an innocent touch like taking his hand seems like going too far considering how little you know him and the fact that he’s not awake.

He’s still big and broad even if he lost most of his body fat, his muscles showing in unnatural details under his skin. When he’s back to a healthy weight he must be an absolute unit of a hybrid. Even weak like this he was imposing back in the cell and you wonder whether you will measure up to him. Did you overestimate yourself when you decided to take him on as your charge?

It feels horrible to sit there and wait not knowing when he’ll wake up. Not being able to do anything but wait. Earlier he got wheeled out so they could examine his body again; make sure that everything is healing right. The doctor told you his body is on a good path but it doesn’t help as much as you hoped.

What use is a healing body if the mind refuses to use it? You didn’t say that out loud, thanking the doctor and staying by his side. You considered going home to sleep but the thought of Simon waking alone felt so utterly wrong, that you slept in the chair by his bedside instead.

The reminder of how it calmed him in the cell to have someone who explained the situation to him keeps you rooted to his side only leaving when absolutely necessary.

At some point you had started talking to him, telling him more about the center and your work. You told him about previous hybrids you worked with, you told him about the cafeteria and how lively it always is, about Liz and how you first started working at the center. You’re voice has been hoarse for a while now but maybe if you just keep talking it will help him find his way back to consciousness.

Liz had visited yesterday and asked why you were so invested in a stranger. You wish you had an answer and you’ve been thinking about it since she asked. Why were you so invested?

You do not know him and you do not owe him anything. Maybe it’s because he’s alone and the others gave him up before even trying. Maybe it’s because all the little bits and pieces of information about him hint at a tragic picture and you don’t want him to live in it alone. Maybe it’s because you can give him all the care and attention you’re somehow unable to give yourself. Maybe it’s because you wish someone had cared about you enough to sit by your bedside while you had been at the hospital.

It doesn’t matter, is what you’re settling for, because thinking of those things makes your body feel heavy and doesn’t help anyway. You are invested and that’s all you need to know.

At this point you don’t know what to talk about anymore so you get out your phone and search up fairytales. It’s a bit absurd reading those to a soldier but it’s better than the quiet that’s only interrupted by the machine monitoring his vitals. And if your hoarse voice sounds scratchy and not very lovely – no one will know. You’re alone with Simon.

Spontaneously you buy a digital collection of fairytales and begin with the first. It’s kind of funny, how dark most fairytales are but as a child you adored them. As a child you did not think about the dark parts as gory. It was not the dark and gore that stuck with you back then but the happy ends and wise teachings. When did you lose the ability to look at things like that?

It makes you wonder about his childhood too. Did his dad read to him before bedtime? Maybe his dad was a military hybrid as well and only his mom had been home most of the time.

What had his home looked like? Had his family consisted of companion or work hybrids? Maybe he’d been bred specifically for military work? You hope that at some point you get to ask him all of these questions.

You’re so engrossed in reading at first you don’t notice the way his heartbeat slowly elevates. But at some point the now quicker beeping of the monitor catches your attention. You look up for a second to see Simon’s eyelids fluttering and quickly you look back down and continue reading.

Somehow you think he won’t appreciate waking up to you staring at him so you try to keep your voice even and continue the story, now all the more aware of how rough your voice sounds because you’ve been talking and reading for so long. The hectic beating of your heart echoes in your own ears and you try very hard to keep your voice even.

You don’t even know what you’re reading at this point but you continue saying one word after the other out loud. Out of the corner of your eye you see his body stiffening. He’s just waking up and immediately on guard again. The hand holding your phone shakes a bit and you have to concentrate to keep the words from going blurry before your eyes.

Suddenly you feel his eyes on you and you swallow, breaking the flow of the story for a second, before continuing until you reach the end of that fairytale. You decide to see it as a win that he is neither panicking nor growling at you. He’s only staring with the monitor beeping quite quickly behind him, his entire body coiled tight like he is bracing for something bad to happen.

You lock your phone, put it away and meet his eyes. Even though he has been asleep for days he looks tired beyond belief. His head is slightly turned so he can look at you and his right ear twitches. You smile at that and feel yourself relax while he remains as stiff as before.

“Hi, Simon.” You awkwardly clear your scratchy throat.

He’s quiet. It reminds you of the cell. He hadn’t spoken then either. Maybe it’s a trauma response. Maybe he can’t talk at all. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to talk to you. The thought stings unexpectedly.

“You’re at the hospital. I don’t know if you remember but we met before you collapsed.” You say carefully, remembering how explaining things had helped bring him down before.

His eyes slowly look down at his hands on the blanket and he flexes his fingers, grunting when he realizes that two are in a cast and he can’t move them. It seems to take tremendous amounts of effort for him to raise the hand with the broken fingers and look at it. Instead of letting it fall back down he goes through the effort of slowly lowering it.

His looks at you again and nods. You’re not sure if that is an answer to what you just said or to the fact that he was able to raise his hand. But it’s a reaction and that’s enough to get your tense shoulders to drop the tiniest bit.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll call the nurse to check on you?” You offer. You know it has to happen but you can probably wait a few more minutes until he is more awake.

To your surprise he nods and you get up. “I’ll be back in a second.”

It’s kind of difficult to leave and stop looking at him. Now that he’s awake the irrational fear that he might be asleep again by the time you get back overcomes you. So you practically race along the corridor to alert the nurse.

When you return Simon is sitting; his head leant against the wall behind him, eyes closed. He blinks them open when you approach and you see his nose flare, taking a deep breath. He frowns, the motion making him more aware of the nasogastric tubing. As a dog hybrid his sense of smell is far better than any humans and you wonder which scents he can make out aside from the smell of hospital that you’ve grown used to in the past days.

“You shouldn’t be sitting yet.” The nurse says with his smooth voice and Simon shrugs, immediately wincing at the movement. The nurse grins and you can see your relief at Simon being up and interacting with his surroundings mirrored on his face.

“Told you.” He teases, immediately dispelling some of the tension in the room.

The checkup is quick but Simon only answers with a nod or a shake of his head instead of using words. When you speak with the doctor in the hallway for a second, she tells you it’s nothing to worry about and he’ll probably speak soon enough. She even puts a friendly hand on your shoulder, evidently happy that he woke up. You were so caught up in your own worry, you didn’t realize how much all the others were thinking of Simon.

When you return to Simon’s side he is studying the room, taking in the monitor as well as the drip. There is suspicion etched into his features, especially while he watches the fluid that continuously drips into his veins.

“Would it help if I chugged some of the stuff?” You ask and just that question alone seems to slightly put him at ease. He huffs through his nose rolling his eyes and you grin. Without the nasogastric tube he already looks way better. You had to turn away when they took it out, the thought of the removal alone nearly making you gag.

“You should probably lie back down though.” Again he surprises you by listening. You don’t dare offer any help even though he grunts with the effort of sliding back down. His pillow is angled awkwardly afterwards and you step closer, reaching for it before you can stop yourself.

When your hands approach his face his lips peel back, showing his teeth. Yeah, the left fang is definitely chipped. His ears slightly swivel back and you pause.

“I’m only going to right your pillow. May I?” You hold your breath, waiting and he gives the slightest of nods. His ears perk forward but he keeps his canines exposed in a display that is decidedly a threat, not a smile.

You tug the pillow back under his head, not daring to touch him to help him lift his head but you can sense that allowing this much is already a big deal. Once done, you step back and sit back down. Thankfully he didn’t bite you and subconsciously your hand comes up to rub your shoulder where phantom teeth seem to clasp down on the scar that marks the skin there.

It should be awkward, the quiet way you lock eyes with him afterwards. But it’s not. It feels weirdly intimate and intense. There is something important going on in Simon’s mind and you find yourself sitting very still so you don’t make any wrong moves.

The way he’s staring at you feels like he’s physically pinning you in place and you straighten up, aware of his breed and that looking weak and easy will not help you with working with him in the future.

The quiet intensity is shattered when the door opens again and the nurse appears with a tray with some… sort of edible mush on it. Simon eyes it warily and when he goes to sit up again the nurse quickly presses a button at the foot of the bed that raises the upper part of the mattress with a mechanical whirring sound.

As soon as Simon is upright and the tray is in front of him he takes a deep whiff of whatever it is they want him to eat. His ears move this way and that and finally he settles, visibly exhausted just from concentrating on judging the food.

The nurse spreads a towel over Simon’s blanket and a low growl tears from his throat at the sudden closeness. The nurse jerks back, raising his hands.

“Hey, big boy. I don’t want no trouble but if you spill on your blanket we have a lot more work to do.”

Simon nods and the nurse stays back while he gets his hand up and tries to grasp the spoon from the tray. The way he evidently struggles makes your stomach squeeze painfully and when he raises the spoon, his hand trembling violently the entire way to the plate, you stand up.

“Let me help you.” It almost sounds like a command and Simon narrows his eyes at you. “Please. There is no need for you to force it.”

He seems utterly unhappy with it but finally he puts down the spoon and his arm falls to the bed with a soft thud. The nod Simon gives in your direction is curt and you scoot closer with your chair giving the nurse a reassuring smile. He just shrugs and leaves with the promise to collect the tray later.

You’re slow in your movements as you collect the spoon and carefully scoop up some of the questionably looking food. Simon hesitates a long moment when you bring it up to his mouth, eyeing you in suspicion until he finally relents and takes the spoon into his mouth.

Trying to dispel the awkwardness settling around you two, you begin talking again.

“You were asleep for over five days.” Your voice is quiet but his ears perk up at the sound of it.

He freezes for a moment, looking past you at the blanket and pillow that you folded and put to the side while you weren’t using it. Once again he seems deep in thought for a moment then he slightly inclines his head at you and then the blankets.

Somehow that makes slight heat creep up your neck and settle in your cheeks. “I stayed with you. We didn’t know when you’d wake up and I didn’t want you waking up alone in an unknown room.”

Some of your worry begins to seep out of you as you feed Simon the entirety of the mush. He doesn’t complain once, dutifully swallowing it all. You almost want to ask for more but you’re dimly aware that eating too much too quickly is probably not good for him and his exhausted body.

“You’re still at the rehabilitation center. Remember? I told you before you collapsed.”

He nods watching you keenly while you put the spoon down and the tray to the side. Hesitantly you reach for the towel spread over his upper body and when he doesn’t react except for a slight twitch of his ears you fold it and put it away too.

“Why?” His question is so unexpected you flinch, wide eyes snapping to his mouth as if you imagined things.

His voice is horribly rough from disuse, even worse than your hoarseness from too much use. He swallows dryly after that one word and you quickly fill a glass with water, letting him drink two small sips from it.

“Why what, Simon?” You ask him hoping to draw more words out of him.

“You’re no nurse, why are you still here?” His eyes are sharp despite his exhaustion, tracking every one of your movements, calculating, confused. A distinct British accent shapes his words now that he’s actually formulating a sentence.

You clear your throat again. “I work for the center. I’m your new handler until you’ve recovered.”

That reminds you that you still need to sign those damned papers because technically you still aren’t his handler until you’ve done the paperwork. But there’s no way you’ll leave him to go sign them now. Not after he just woke up.

He blinks at you slowly. “My handler.”

You nod and watch him melt back into tense silence, pondering the new information.

Considering all that has happened, Simon is taking it all pretty well. Maybe it’s the exhaustion or maybe it’s actually not much to take compared to what he went through before coming to the center.

He watches you and for a second you think there’s a flash of something in his eyes. Fear? Distrust? You’re not sure but something was there and it makes you want to reassure him.

“I’ve worked with many hybrids before and I’ve never hurt any of them.” You quietly inform him.

“That’s true.” The smooth voice of the nurse comes from behind you and you nearly have a heart attack from his sudden appearance. “Sorry.” He adds when he notices you jump a bit but his grin is amused. He collects the tray and addresses Simon again.

“If there’s anyone here that you can trust to have your best interest at heart it’s this one.” He nods in your direction. You fondly roll your eyes at his praise, secretly happy he’s backing you up. “I’m right and you know it. Even with Phillip you were never anything but understanding.”

Hearing his name from the nurse makes you go slightly pale and you concentrate on Simon instead, who is watching the nurse with furrowed brows. The nurse evidently realizes that he made you uncomfortable because he gently squeezes your shoulder.

“I didn’t… Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You whisper, your voice refusing to come out louder. Simon curiously alternates between looking at you and the nurse but he doesn’t say anything to the interaction. After a brief moment of hesitation the nurse leaves with the tray.

When you’re alone with Simon, he settles more comfortably into his bed and you stand up to lower the mattress for him so he’s flat on his back again. The look he gives you could be interpreted a silent ‘thank you’. You hope it’s that and not exasperation at your audacity to decide for him to lie back down.

After barely two minutes he’s asleep.

You try to calm your heart that decides it has to start racing again at the sight of him motionless. He’s just asleep. This time he really will wake up in a bit. It’s a good old regular nap.

Your own weariness presses you back down into your chair and maybe you can close your own eyes for a few minutes. Get a bit of rest for yourself. Just a little…

You wake up with a start. Heart pounding in your ears, hands shaking. You rub your eyes to get rid of the last touches of sleep, maybe you can rub the dream away with it, and automatically search for Simon.

He’s already staring at you and you straighten in your chair, surprised that he’s awake. When you look at the clock on the wall you realize that you’ve definitely been asleep for more than just a few minutes and you sigh heavily. How long has the hybrid been looking at you?

Once again Simon has a tray with food before him but this time he’s eating by himself. He’s less shaky already and looks livelier than you yourself feel right now. Between every spoonful he stops and watches you. You didn’t even hear the nurse bring him the food.

“You sleep like the dead.” He comments dryly and you nearly snort. Really? That’s what he comments on?

“Rich coming from the guy who didn’t wake up for five days.” You quip back.

Against your expectation there’s amusement glittering in his eyes even if his mouth refuses to give you the satisfaction of curving into a smile while he finishes the last of his meal.

“You try walking from Mexico to Texas on foot for days after...” He clears his throat. “I don’t even know how long I was walking for.” He fires back.

Your mouth drops open, curiosity builds at the way he stops himself from finishing his first thought but you decide against prying. Whatever he had meant to say couldn’t have been pleasant and now wasn’t the time to make him tell you about what he’d gone through.

You knew that he’d been found in Texas in really bad condition but you had no idea that he’d been outside the U.S before that. But considering his accent you aren’t sure if he even lives in the U.S.

“What were you doing in Mexico?” You question carefully a lump forming in your throat.

Simon’s eyes find the window and he’s quiet for a long time, sitting so still you think he might have fallen back into a coma. His eyebrows furrow and he concentrates on something you can’t see. When he turns back to you there’s a severity in his gaze that makes you swallow heavily.

“Dying.” Is his only answer and you’re not even sure what he means by that because evidently he is alive and fought to be alive but the graveness of his answer makes you keep your mouth shut and a shudder runs down your back.

“There was a mission. But it went to shit.” He finally tacks on and you’re not sure what to say to that.

‘I’m sorry’? What was that even supposed to mean under these circumstances. ‘It must have been hard’? Who even were you to assume what he’d been feeling. You knew nothing of what he’d been through except the wounds and scars it had left on his body.

“I’m glad you survived.” Is what you settle for, biting the inside of your cheek because maybe that was a wrong thing to say too.

With bated breath you wait for his reaction. Simon scoffs but holds back from answering. Wrong thing to say after all, the realization makes your shoulders hunch a bit. But you mean it and you hope he can sense that.

Conversation stops after that. The silence is awkward until you decide that it doesn’t have to be. You sit up a bit straighter. It’s just silence and it’s up to you how you experience it. You look out the window so Simon doesn’t feel too watched, but he doesn’t extend the same courtesy to you.

He’s staring and it’s heavy, like a physical weight that settles on your shoulders. You’re not sure whether it’s a burden or a safety tether.

“I want to wash the filth off. Need to shower.” He finally breaks the silence and you turn to him again. A slight frown settles on your face. He only just woke up from his coma like… maybe a day ago. You realize how bad you’re sense of time got since you’ve spent the last days mostly in this room.

“I’ll ring for the nurse so he can help you with it. I’m not sure –“

“No!” His voice is surprisingly loud, the lingering hoarseness making it sound even more aggressive than he probably intended. “I want to shower alone.”

Now you’re the one who is staring. Simon meets your eyes, not backing down. Of course not every hybrid likes having someone with them while they shower. It is a vulnerable moment after all. But you’ve never met one who was so vehemently against it. If only there was a way you could ask him what happened to him during the months he was missing without hurting him further.

You want to respect his wishes, really you do. But he’s still so weak and it’s your job as his handler to watch out for him even if he doesn’t like it.

“Alright. Stand up, right now, by yourself and I’ll let you shower unsupervised.” You say and you know you’ve taken on your handler voice. The one you use when your hybrid challenges you. Some small part in you is afraid it’ll evoke a negative response in Simon. Instead he bares his teeth at you in challenge, and begins shifting towards the edge of the mattress.

Stubborn hybrid. You watch him, ready to jump up and help him if he needs it at any point but allowing him to attempt standing up. Once he’s sitting at the edge, his feet planted on the floor, he slips the blanket off his shoulders, leaving him only in his hospital gown.

He shudders, grits his teeth and you notice the way the gown loosely hangs onto his shoulders. It’s open at the back and the fact seems to be deeply uncomfortable to the big hybrid. He tries to lift his hands to close it but has to quickly return them to the mattress, before he even reaches the shift, so he can hold himself up.

“Do you want me to tie it for you?” You offer, voice soft, a stark difference to the way you spoke just a few seconds ago.

Instead of an answer a dangerous growl starts in his chest and his ears go flat against his head. Something about his state of undress is deeply distressing him and the thought of you at his back evidently doesn’t help. Whatever happened to him, it made him uncomfortable with being uncovered. You think about what the doctor hinted at when she told you about his condition.

Every hybrid you’ve worked with and talked to before never spared a thought for propriety. Apparently it has something to do with the animal parts in them, while simultaneously not being raised with the same societal norms as humans, but being naked doesn’t naturally bother hybrids.

It bothers him though and you refuse to let him linger in this state when it seems to feel so wrong to him. But he’s still growling at you, deep and threatening, and you don’t want to make him even more uncomfortable.

Sure, you could just do it, force him to bear with it and realize it’s not so bad after all. Sometimes you have to take charge, just like you’d take your dog to the vet even if it doesn’t like it. At least that’s what you were taught when you became a handler. But he’s a person, and you’ll be damned if you reduce him to his animal side.

“I will only do it if you allow me, Simon. I’m not going to hurt you.”

He doesn’t stop growling, even as he nods at you. When you make your way around the bed his head follows you as far as possible and then he keeps one eye on you.

His chest is heaving again, rumbling with his warning growl, and you lean over the bed, deliberately ignoring the broad, naked expanse of his back while you close the gown and tie the two little strings together. You try to be quick but take extra care not to touch him while you hide his skin from view.

You hurry back around to his front and notice how each breath is way too quick and shallow. The growling stopped but there are droplets of sweat collecting on his forehead.

“It’s okay. You did it. Everything is okay, no one touched you and you’re dressed.”

He briefly closes his eyes and slowly his breathing returns to normal. You smile at him when he opens them again. After a few seconds of intense silence, where he once again stares at you like he’s trying to catch a glimpse of your innermost thoughts, he seems to remember why he is sitting in the first place.

He braces his hands against the bed and slowly, achingly slow pushes himself up until he’s standing. His nose scrunches up in exertion and pain. Then he’s unfolded himself to his full height and looks at you in triumph.

For a moment you glimpse the proud hybrid he evidently is, but the expression only lasts a second before he starts swaying and you’re at his side immediately, grasping his big hand, wrapping your arm around his broad back. You’re dimly aware that the monitor beeps in warning in the background.

“Sit back down, the bed is directly behind you. It’s okay.”

It’s entirely graceless, the way he slumps down and you keep holding onto him for a moment until you’re sure he’s sitting safely. Then you let go and retreat half a step keeping your hands slightly outstretched so you can grab him again if necessary.

The hectic thumping of feet approach the room from the hallway and then the door is ripped open, the nurse hastily entering the room. When he catches sight of you and Simon he freezes in place, relaxing some when he realizes that the hybrid is not in immediate danger. Simon growls at him and the nurse once again raises his hands in a placating manner. Then Simon’s attention is back on you.

He narrows his eyes, a shudder going through him. His hands grip the edge of the mattress until his knuckles turn white and he’s panting again. But he doesn’t want to lie back down when the nurse asks him to. So you stand next to him, waiting until he gains control over his breathing.

“You’re not showering alone.” You assert as soon as the beeping of the monitor returns to the usual rate and the nurse stops looking at Simon in concern. His head snaps up to you. For a second you glimpse unadulterated fear in his honey eyes then he sets his jaw, baring his teeth at you again, his ears twitching back slightly.

“I’m not risking you collapsing in there and hurting yourself.” Is your gentle explanation and he sighs so deeply, the sound seems to come from the depths of his soul.

“I’m sure that…” You look at the nurse questioningly.

“Cain.”, he supplies helpfully and you’re slightly ashamed you didn’t ask for his name before.

“I’m sure Cain will help you. That way you’ll have a man with you.” Glancing at the nurse you see him nodding immediately.

“No.” Simon asserts, nearly making you flinch. Then he scoffs. “Man, woman, doesn’t matter. It’s all equally as bad.”

You raise your eyebrows, unsure what he means by that. “O..kay. Which nurse do you feel most comfortable with?”

“No nurse. Either you or I’m doing it alone.” He nearly growls the answer.

You’re stumped into silence. He wants you in the bathroom with him? Even though he just nearly freaked out because his back was uncovered while you were in the room?

Searching for help you turn to the nurse, Cain. He shrugs. “I would advise against him already showering.” Simon’s answering growl is ferocious. And Cain hastily goes on making Simon quiet back down. “But I don’t think I can convince him. If you’re willing to do it and it makes him more comfortable that’s completely fine. You’re his handler. And I’ll be right outside in case anything happens so you can call me.”

Simon looks at you expectantly. Did he ask for you because he thinks you’ll decline and he’ll get to wash up alone? If that’s the reason he made a mistake. You’re not risking his safety. After all you’re not the one freaking out over his naked skin.

Squaring your shoulders you nod. Cain prepares everything in the bathroom and Simon inhales deeply, getting ready to stand up again.

“We do have wheelchairs. You don’t have to walk.” Cain offers and Simon immediately shakes his head.

It makes sense, you suppose. The brief expression of victory on his face when he stood up by himself appears in your mind. He needs to get this much done to feel capable, like he achieved something. So you don’t argue, instead silently stand by his side, while Cain walks around you two to his other side freeing him from the monitor and stepping closer. He gets a brief threatening growl from Simon.

“Yeah, yeah. Just a precaution, big guy. I’m not touching you.” Cain’s voice seems velvety in contrast to Simon’s harsh rumble and the hybrid shuts up at that, concentrating all his energy into standing up again.

The few steps into the bathroom seem to take everything out of Simon and after maybe half of the way, he quietly grabs onto your arm that you’ve held at the ready. No one comments on the way he grips your forearm and lets you take the smallest amount of his weight. You’re sure even that is a concession he’d rather not make.

In the tiled bathroom Simon heavily sinks onto the stool that’s strategically placed in the shower space. There are towels and a fresh hospital gown placed on the sink. After a short instruction on how to use the shower, Cain leaves, reminding you that he’s just outside.

Simon is silent for a few moments and you contemplate waiting, to see if he’ll ask for your help with untying the gown. But you don’t want to push too much too soon, so you take a step closer to spare his pride.

“Let me untie it? I’ll turn around after that. I won’t even look at you unless you need help.” You offer, your quiet voice sounding too loud in the small room.

He nods jerkily, once and your fingers tug the strings of the gown free. Before the shift slides open you’ve already turned around, standing by the door, facing away from him. The rustling of the gown as he slips it off makes you clench your hands into fists. This is way more nerve wrecking than you thought.

The small plastic wheels under the stool rattle over the tiles as Simon scoots closer to the shower; at least you assume that’s what he’s doing.

Then you hear the hiss of the water and relax slightly. There’s the nagging worry that Simon is too weak, that something will happen but you stay in your place, looking at the white door like it might tell you that everything will be fine if you just stare hard enough.

You’re trying to understand why being here while Simon showers makes you so nervous. You’ve been with enough hybrids in the bathroom. You even helped hybrids shower before. A golden retriever hybrid, you worked with previously, had valued showering as bonding time, letting you wash his hair for him. But then again, Simon’s earlier reaction to his open gown had shown that nakedness wasn’t natural to him – or at least it wasn’t anymore.

You’re very aware, that Simon trusts you enough to be locked into this room with you while he is completely naked and you’re not. That’s what makes you nervous. Putting that trust in you means there’s a possibility you might mess up. So you hold very, very still while he showers. You need him to feel safe with you. Maybe because you want to feel safe with him too. You want to feel safe with a hybrid again.

It’s clear to you, that you only feel this secure with him because he currently is weak and probably couldn’t truly hurt you. You can only hope, that you’ll still feel safe enough when he’s recovered. Because if you don’t, you won’t be able to be the kind of handler he needs.

As a malinois hybrid he needs someone confident, someone who sets clear boundaries and puts his mind and body to work while being so in control that he can feel safe following your commands. After Phillip you’re not sure you can be that for him. How are you supposed to feel confident in your abilities when you misjudged Phillip so greatly. Maybe you should have returned to an easier case, maybe another golden retriever hybrid without a tragic past.

But then you remember that no one else would have taken Simon as their charge and you grit your teeth. You will be exactly the kind of handler that can help him, you’ll make sure of it.

The sound of the water turns off.

“I can’t reach the towel.” Simon’s rough voice rings out behind you and you know he’s asking for your help. But he’s concealing the need for it behind a mere statement and that almost makes you smile.

You begin to turn. “Should I-“

“Don’t look at me!” He barks out a subtle rumble in his voice again and you freeze.

The silence following his shout is almost deafening and you try to calm your trembling hands. It’s okay, he only got loud because he doesn’t want you to see him naked. It’s not aggression. It’s defensiveness. You know the difference, you’ll be fine.

“I’m going to turn to the wall on my side and walk sideways to the sink.” He doesn’t say anything to that so you do exactly as you just announced and inch closer to the sink until you can reach for the towel. The silence grates on your nerves and you itch to turn around so you can catch a glimpse of his expression and body language.

You curse the way your hand subtly trembles when you grab ahold of it, then you extend it behind yourself in Simon’s direction. The sudden awareness that he can look at you while you’re not looking at him is making cold sweat break out all over your skin. He’s more vulnerable than you right now, you try to remind yourself but the reassurance feels hollow.

Hopefully he doesn’t realize how heavy your breathing is or the tremor in your hand. But you’ve seen his attentive eyes. There is no way he doesn’t notice. Still you can hope.

Your breath hitches in your chest when his skin slightly brushes yours while taking the towel from your hand. This time you concentrate on the tiles in front of you, while he dries himself off. Instead of waiting for him to ask for it, you take the hospital gown in hand and already hold it out behind you as soon as the sound of the towel rustling quiets down behind you.

You feel the briefest hint of hesitation then he takes the gown, brushing against your hand again. If you hadn’t seen how much he avoids being touched you’d think he deliberately runs one of his fingers along the back of your hand. But surely that was an accident or maybe you imagined it.

Still it has your stomach flipping. He did not growl at the repeated contact and he didn’t avoid it. This time it had been his decision and he had not actively avoided you. A small smile twists your lips. A light fluttery feeling settles in your tummy. Hope, maybe.

“You need to tie it for me again.” His rough voice is surprisingly quiet. This is probably the closest to him asking for help that you’ll ever get.

You turn around to find him facing you. This time you make quick work of tying it at his back making sure he’s properly dressed. He doesn’t crane his neck to watch you either and the realization of that almost makes you lightheaded. With a satisfied hum you round him again and study him.

He’s clean now and already looks a lot better although exhaustion makes him look decades older than he probably is. His shaggy hair is now dirt free and still sopping wet, dripping onto the fresh gown.

You tut at that grabbing another towel. “Mind if I dry your hair for you? We don’t need you getting a cold on top of everything else.”

His ears twitch and damp strands of hair that got caught between the short fur covering his pointy ears come loose flopping down against his head. You can’t stop the grin that appears on your face. Maybe he’s a little bit cute.

Then your eyes take in his face, the stitched cuts, and you have to keep yourself from wincing. Showering with all of his wounds must have been painful, even if the worst are covered to protect them from getting wet.

There is barely a pause this time before he nods and you get close to him, staying in front of him even if you’d reach easier from his back. Bringing your arms up, you wrap the towel around the back of his head and carefully cup his ears with the soft fabric. They twitch again at the touch and you bite back another grin.

Gently you dry them off first, making sure your motions are unhurried and predictable. When you go to towel dry the rest of his hair you take a subconscious step closer and your thigh brushes against his knee.

You hold your breath, waiting for him to jerk back to bare his teeth or tell you you’re too close.

He does none of that. He stays put, not moving an inch and when you carefully rub his hair until it’s only damp he even closes his eyes for a long moment. You think you even catch the start of a pleased rumble in his chest but he swallows it back down, staying quiet.

Once you’re done, taking a step back his eyes blink back into awareness and you find that you can’t look away from the sudden warmth you find in them. For a second he looks at you without hardening his stare and you glimpse vulnerability behind the molten honey of his dark iris.

You did it. He took a shower with you in the room, naked and vulnerable while you had your back turned to him unable to read his intentions. But nothing happened. You’re both unscathed, you’re both unhurt. He didn’t attack you and you didn’t look at him.

You cock your head at him, smiling because you need to express the lightness that suddenly fills your chest, and his head tilts to the other side mirroring the movement. What a ridiculous sight that must be. You think there might be a faint smile on his lips too.

The silence while you help him back to bed is comfortable and Cain, who dutifully waits outside the bathroom looks from you to Simon and back. You nod and a beautiful smile lights up the nurses’ handsome face. He lingers until Simon is back in bed, then leaves with the promise of returning with food later.

The grunt that comes out of Simon’s mouth, when he slips back under the freshly made covers is fit for a grandpa and you snort at the sound. You cannot imagine how exhausting the whole ordeal of taking a shower must have been for him, but it was also a massive achievement.

“You did well.” You praise genuine pride in your voice. He shuffles around under the covers until he’s found a comfortable position but you can see that he’s pleased at your praise and tries to hide it.

Maybe that’s his personal motivator. Praise. His breed is one with a high will to please after all. You shelve that thought for later.

He turns his head towards you, regarding you with tired eyes. “You should go home and sleep.”

You frown at that but before you can argue he continues. “I’ll be asleep for a while and if you’ve been here with me the entire time you need to rest too.” He looks at the chair you occupied for the past days. “Properly rest.”

Resting in your own bed does sound tempting but you still don’t want to leave his side. The need to keep watch, to make sure he’s okay and taken care of is too great. He huffs, catching your attention and rolls his eyes. Rude.

“Go home, bloody hell. Sleep in an actual bed. I’ll still be here when you get back.”

A small pathetic part in you wants to ask him to promise that he’ll still be here. That he’ll take care so no one hurts him while you’re gone. Another part of you fears that they’ll put him down while you’re gone. Just because. But you know you’re being irrational and he has a point.

So you nod. You fix a teasing grin on your face going for lighthearted teasing instead of saying anything stupid. “Don’t get used to ordering me around.”

He huffs again. “If it means making you see reason, I’ll do it again.”

Fondly you shake your head. He’s already growing on you, the stubborn hybrid. It makes wonderful warmth bloom in your chest when you realize that you look forward to working with him. Maybe taking him as your charge wasn’t so stupid after all.

So you leave Simon to rest, watching him close his eyes before you leave the room. You find Cain and tell him that you’re going home to sleep and the nurse clasps both your shoulders in his hands beaming at you.

“Thank god, finally. Don’t get me wrong, you’re very unobtrusive and pleasant to be around but I was about ready to force you to go home to take some time to recharge.”

You laugh at that and squeeze his hands. Without him you probably would have lost your mind these past few days. He waves you off when you express as much, shooing you off. “It’s what we do. Now go get some sleep.”

It does feel wonderful to slip into your bed, your head heavy, meeting softness instead of the hard backrest of a chair. How did you even survive multiple days without a proper bed?

You don’t even have time to ponder that thought before you’re out like a light.

When you wake up groggy and heavenly warm and rested your clock tells you that you’ve been asleep for just over sixteen hours. Damn, seems like you really needed that. Stretching your rested body under the covers you find yourself excited to go back to work today.

Instead of hurrying though, you take your time to get ready, letting your stomach flutter in excitement of returning to Simon’s side. By now he’s probably feeling even better. Maybe you can take a walk outside in the hallway with him if he’s up for it.

You don’t even try to hide your silly smile while you walk back to the center. The closer you get to the building the hospital is in the quicker you walk and you practically skip up the steps to the fourth floor where Simon’s room is.

Before you go in you exhale to calm yourself, wipe your palms on your pants and knock once. Grinning widely you open the door.

“How are you feeling tod-“

The room is empty and confused you check the room number. Room 141, it’s definitely the right one. It’s not only empty, it’s clean too. A freshly made bed, covered with plastic so it can be used as soon as someone needs it. There’s not a single trace that anyone even occupied this room just a day earlier.

Your heart drops into your stomach a queasy feeling coming over you. Surely they just moved him to another room; they probably need this one for someone else. But who? There’s unease creeping up your spine. And it has you quickly going to the nurse’s station.

You find a chubby woman sitting in front of a monitor.

“Hello?” You clear your throat anxiously. “Is Cain here?”

She looks up at you a calm and friendly expression on her adorable round face. “Oh no, sweetie. Cain has night shift today.”

You swallow. “Do you know what happened to the hybrid in room 141?” You ask hating how thin your voice is.

She nods and you breathe a sigh of relief until she opens her mouth again. “He was discharged a few hours ago.”

“Discharged?” Your tone is slightly shrill now and you try to calm yourself down. “There’s no way he was well enough. I was with him yesterday.”

She nods patiently, reassuringly. “Calm down, sweetheart. He only got transferred to another hybrid center, he will be taken to the hospital there.”

A small sigh of relief leaves you at that but you still don’t understand. Where did they send him? Why is he being transferred? What’s going on?

“It’s best you talk to the Doc about it.” The nurse gently advises and like a robot you turn on your heels whispering your thanks and heading straight to the Doctor’s office.

You barely have the mind to knock and wait for her to call you in. As soon as she does you practically rush into her room.

“Where is he?”

The doctor folds her hands. “Ah, I heard you were resting at home. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Where is he?” You demand and she sighs.

“As soon as they heard he’s been found they ordered him home. He will be at a rehabilitation center there. You don’t need to worry about him.” She calmly explains. You don’t like how calm she sounds. Nothing she just told you makes sense.

“Who is they, where is ‘home’? I’m his handler shouldn’t I have been transferred with him?”

Her expression morphs into slight pity again and you hate it. You hate that you can’t do anything but panic because he is gone and you don’t know what’s going on. Her next words bring all your thoughts to a screeching halt.

“Didn’t you know? He’s one of them SAS boys. He was transported to board a flight back to England.”

#the sewer writes #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #hybrid!simon #hybrid!simon x reader #gn!reader #simon x reader #ghost x reader #hybrid AU #cod ghost x reader

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knoepfl · 1 month ago

Text

Bound by Grit: A Dance of Power and Defiance

Characters:

• Salo: A bitter, wheelchair-bound enforcer from Zaun, struggling with his vulnerability and defiance.

• Reader (Female): A headstrong woman from Piltover, tasked with caring for Salo, challenging his temper while asserting control in their relationship.

Trigger Warnings:

• Themes of physical disability and recovery.

• Power dynamics and control in relationships.

• Mild violence (rough handling of the wheelchair).

• Strong language and tension-filled interactions.

• Themes of emotional vulnerability and resistance to help.

Masterlist

Part 2

Words: 743

--- The spires of Piltover glistened in the waning light, their golden peaks brushing against the fading orange of the sunset. Inside the cramped apartment, the air felt heavier, weighted by tension and unspoken words. The only sounds were the faint creak of wheels rolling over polished wood and the occasional clink of metal.

Salo maneuvered himself near the window, his wheelchair cutting a deliberate path through the room. He stopped just shy of the glass, his hands gripping the wheels tightly as he stared at the city below.

You leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. The sharp angles of his jaw were illuminated by the fading light, but his expression remained unreadable.

“You’re glaring at the city again,” you said, your voice cutting through the silence.

“And you’re still here,” he replied without turning, his tone flat.

You pushed off the frame and approached him, your boots echoing softly on the wooden floor. “You’re welcome, by the way, for keeping you alive and somewhat functional.”

Salo’s lips twitched, though it wasn’t quite a smile. “I’m touched by your unwavering dedication.”

“Not dedication,” you corrected, stepping behind him and placing a hand on the back of his chair. “Obligation. Someone has to make sure you don’t fall apart.”

Before he could retort, you spun the chair sharply away from the window, forcing him to face the rest of the room.

“Don’t do that,” he snapped, his hands gripping the armrests as he glared up at you.

You smirked, leaning down so your face was level with his. “What, this?” You pushed the chair forward slightly, making him jolt.

“Enough,” he growled, though his voice lacked the venom you were used to.

You straightened and walked around to face him, planting yourself in front of the wheelchair. “If you don’t like it, do something about it.”

His eyes narrowed, dark and dangerous. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little,” you admitted, your arms crossed as you leaned against the edge of the table. “But you let me take control, Salo. You hate it, but you need it.”

He scoffed, his hands releasing the armrests as he forced his expression back into something more neutral. “Need is a strong word.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “Really? Then why don’t you prove me wrong? Get out of that chair and walk away.”

The silence that followed was heavy, but you didn’t look away. His jaw tightened, and his hands returned to the wheels, gripping them like lifelines.

“Careful,” he said, his voice low. “One day, I might surprise you.”

You stepped closer, standing just inches from him. “I’m counting on it.”

Before he could respond, you crouched down in front of him, your fingers brushing against the wheel of his chair. The proximity was intentional, the balance of power shifting as you met his gaze head-on.

“You’re not helpless, Salo,” you said, your tone softer but still firm. “But until you decide to fight for yourself, I’m in charge. And you’ll listen.”

His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. The tension between you was palpable, a silent battle of wills.

Finally, he leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. “You’re infuriating.”

“And you’re stubborn,” you shot back, standing and moving to the other side of the room. “But we make it work.”

You grabbed a small toolkit from the shelf and walked back to him, kneeling by his chair to inspect the mechanisms. “You’ve been grinding the wheels again,” you muttered, adjusting the tension with practiced ease.

“Occupational hazard,” he said, his voice lighter now.

You glanced up at him, catching the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

When you finished, you stood and placed a hand on his shoulder, leaning down so your face was close to his ear. “One day, you’ll thank me for this,” you murmured.

Salo tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting yours. “Don’t hold your breath.”

You smirked, stepping back and pushing his chair toward the center of the room. “Let’s see if you can roll yourself to the table without complaining. Consider it training.”

He muttered something under his breath but obliged, his hands gripping the wheels as he maneuvered the chair forward. You watched him, arms crossed, a sense of satisfaction blooming in your chest.

This was your domain now, and while Salo might resent it, you knew he wouldn’t trade it for anything. ---

#Arcane #arcane fanfiction #arcane x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #Salo arcane #Arcane salo #Salo Arcane x reader #councilor salo #Salo x reader #Reader x Salo #Arcane Salo x reader #Salo season 2 #arcane season 2 #arcane league of legends #arcane s2

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chocochozi · 29 days ago

Text

Liquid Courage.

Pairing: Drunk! Adult! Itoshi Rin x Reader.

Contains: gn!reader, time skip! Rin, jealous Rin, fluff, drunk confession

The club was filled with the mixed scents of sweat, smoke, and spilled alcohol, creating a heavy and hazy atmosphere. The music thumped loudly, reverberating through the walls and making conversation between people difficult, and the room was dark, with only a few colored lights, Rin was sitting on the high chair at the front bar as he sips on his 5th bottle this night.

His other hand rubbed his temples, setting aside the bottle and reaching for his phone.

He bit the inside of his cheek, as his finger tip hover above your contact number. Rin has always been against the idea of giving you nicknames, he thinks its unnecessary.

He clicked his tongue and pressed the call button. A few rings in and he heard your voice. It was a bit hoarse, you probably just woke up. After all, it was almost 2:30 am.

"[Name]? c–can you pick me up?" Rin slurred his words.

"W- huh? Where even are you?"

"Clu- Hic Club."

"Send me your location." You dropped the call and hurriedly got out of your bed, slipping into some pants and a decent top. You open your phone and looked at the location Rin had sent. You grabbed your keys and drove to the club.

Upon entering the club, the loud music assaulted your senses as the heavy beat of the bass made it feel like your heart was in sync with the music. Neon and colorful lights would flash across the room, casting a strange glow on the crowd of people dancing and chatting on the dance floor. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, smoke, and alcohol, creating an almost intoxicating atmosphere as you make your way through the crowd to find Rin.

As you scan the crowded bar, your eyes fall on your friend, the dark haired man was sitting on a high chair at the front bar, looking completely intoxicated. His movements are slow and disoriented, and his speech is slurred as he open his wallet to pay the bartender. It's clear that he had one too many. You made your way to his stool and grabbed his wallet from his hands paying the bartender instead.

"Jeez, how many bottles did you have?" You sigh, looking at Rin's disheveled appearance. His once-perfect hair was now messy and tousled, and his face was flushed with redness from the alcohol.

"You know what? forget i even ask." You carefully put his other arms around your shoulder, guiding him as he stumbles, murmuring somethings you can't understand.

"Let's get you home, yeah?"

Finally, after coming across a few sweaty bodies, you got out of the club, and walked to your car but not without struggling. You do have a drunk person arms around your shoulders. You helped Rin seat at the passenger seat, careful not to hit his head at the process. After, you closed the door and sat on the drivers seat. You looked at Rin his eyes half-closed, his movements sluggish and gawky. His hand was covering his face as he leans on the seat.

"You rarely get wasted, what happened?" You placed your hand on the wheel.

The raven haired man took his hand off his face, his words were slurred and difficult to understand, but he attempted to explain why he had become so intoxicated. "I... I just needed to relax," he said, his voice sounding thick and slow. "Had a long day, just wanted to take the edge off."

You hummed.

Rin's usual aloof demeanor was replaced with a hint of possessiveness as he brought up Isagi in the conversation. His words were still sluggish and his gestures more exaggerated than usual. "Isagi..." he muttered, grabbing your attention. A frown marring his features. "Are you two...?" He paused, hiccuping slightly before continuing, "together or something?" He leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied your expression.

"Huh? why did you get that idea?" You raised a brow, intrigued by his question.

He had seen the way you interacted with Isagi, the subtle smiles and intimate glances that were often exchanged between the two of you. In his drunken state, these cues were seen as evidence of a deeper connection, leading him to believe that you and Isagi were involved romantically. He couldn't shake off the feeling that there was more to your relationship than he realized, and the alcohol fueled his suspicions further. "You've been spending a lot of time together lately. I couldn't help but notice. You seem...close."

You scoff, "Well, of course? we are friends after all."

You glanced at him. "What's going on with you Rin? you seemed awfully persistent to know everything about me and Isagi recently."

"Im jealous."

You eyes widened. Was that a confession or what? "What do you mean?"

"B'cause im jealous..the way you look at him, speak to him, laugh with him, you guy's haven't even known each other longer than we have.." He lets out a frustrated noise, brushing his fingers through his hair.

"Fuck, it‐ Hic it's 'cause i like you."

"What?" You turned to your body to the side to face him, unsure how to react to his drunken confession.

"Too many question.." Rin's movements were clumsy and uncoordinated as he leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours, causing you to almost hit your head on the window behind you. Still, you melted to the kiss. It was sloppy and unpracticed, as he was clearly too drunk to control his motions. However, even in his inebriated state, there was a certain tenderness to his actions, a desperate longing that hinted at deeper feelings. As the kiss continued, Rin's body grew heavier, his movements slowing until he finally slackened and passed out in your arms, his head resting heavily on your shoulder.

"What am i gonna do with you?" You gently guided him back to the passenger seat and reclinined it, but not too far back. You placed a blanket that you folded to create a make shift pillow and propped it below his head.

With Rin passed out in the passenger seat, you take control of the wheel and start driving towards his place. The city lights flash by as you navigate the empty streets, the silence in the car only occasionally broken by Rin's soft snores. You steal glances at him from time to time, a mix of concern and affection in your eyes. His head is leaned back against the blanket you folded, his lips slightly parted, and his body slumped over. It's a quiet and peaceful moment, a stark contrast to the drunken chaos from earlier.

You finally arrive at Rin's place and you cut the engine, the car falling silent as you both sit in the dark. You turn to Rin and see he's still passed out next to you. You shake him gently, trying to wake him up, but he just grumbles and slumps further down in his seat. With another sigh, you reach over and rummage through his pockets, searching for his keys. After a few moments, you finally find them, hidden deep in his jacket pocket. With the keys in hand, you exit the car and open the passenger door, bracing yourself to help Rin out.

You put one hand on his shoulder and shake him gently. "Rin," you say, your voice quiet in the silence of the night. "Wake up. We're home." Rin groans and stirs slightly, opening his eyes just a crack. He looks up at you, his gaze bleary and disoriented, but he manages to mumble something incomprehensible. You reach out and loop his arm around your shoulder, helping him to stand unsteady on his feet. He stumbles against you, his weight heavy on your frame as you begin the slow process of getting him inside.

You guide Rin through the darkened house to his bedroom, his body slumped heavily against yours. He mutters unintelligible words as you half-drag, half-walk him down the hallway until you reach his bedroom. You open the door and help Rin collapse onto the bed, his body immediately sinking into the mattress. He's barely awake, his eyes fluttering shut as he mumbles something incoherent. You can see the exhaustion written on his face, the effects of the alcohol taking a toll on his body.

You straighten up and prepare to leave the room, intending to let Rin sleep off the effects of the alcohol. However, as you start to turn away, you feel Rin's hand grab your wrist, his grip surprisingly strong despite his drunken state. "Wait..." he slurs, "Stay."

You hesitate for a moment, taken aback by Rin's sudden request. His eyes are half-lidded, the alcohol dulling his usual sharpness, but there's a pleading look in his gaze that makes it impossible to deny him. "I..." you start, your voice quiet in the darkened room, but Rin's grip on your wrist tightens. "Please." he mumbles, his voice rough and soft. "Please stay."

You look down at him, taking in the sight of the normally composed Rin, now reduced to a drunken mess, pleading for your presence. His tousled hair, his rumpled clothing, the vulnerability in his eyes - it's all so far removed from the Rin you know, and something within you softens at the sight. You sigh, giving in, and nod slowly.

"Okay," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. "Okay, I'll stay." Rin's grip on your wrist loosens, his hand falling back to his side as he closes his eyes, a small satisfied smile appearing on his face.

── .✦

Rin woke up to the unwelcomed sight of sunlight streaming through his window and a throbbing headache. He groaned, his hand coming up to rub his temples as he tried to recall the events of the previous night. But the memories were hazy and disjointed, fragments of conversation and blurry images that refused to come together into a cohesive whole. As his mind slowly began to clear, he found himself puzzled by the sight of you sleeping next to him in his bed.

He propped himself up on his elbows, wincing as the movement sent a wave of nausea through him. His gaze fixed on you, taking in the sight of you sleeping peacefully, your hair unkempt and features lax in sleep. A thousand questions ran through his mind as he tried to make sense of the situation. Why were you here? How had you ended up in bed with him? And more importantly, what had happened between the two of you last night?

You stir awake, the sunlight streaming through the curtains assaulting your eyes. You sit up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, and notice Rin lying next to you, his face twisted in pain from the after-effects of his hangover. He looks at you with a mixture of confusion and surprise, his eyes hazy from the alcohol still lingering in his system. As you stretch and reach for the bedside table, Rin speaks up. "Why...why were you in bed with me?" he croaks, his voice rough.

You pause in your movements, your hand hovering over the small bottle of asprin you prepared last night before sleeping. You look over at Rin, meeting his gaze, and notice the confusion etched on his face. "You asked me to stay," you reply softly, your voice still groggy with sleep. "You didn't want to be alone."

Rin's brow furrows as he tries to recall the events of the previous night, but the memories remain elusive. He rubs his temples, wincing as the headache persists. "I did?" he asks, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

You nod, unscrewing the lid of the aspirin bottle and shaking out two tablets onto your palm. You hold them out to Rin, and grabbed a water bottle placed on the night stand, offering them to him. "You were pretty drunk," you explain, watching as he takes the aspirin and swallows them followed by drinking the water.

Rin's eyes widen slightly as bits and pieces of the previous night slowly begin to resurface. He can vaguely recall stumbling through the house, supported by your body, and mumbling something before collapsing on the bed. "And you agreed?" he asks, his voice still hoarse.

You shrug, a small smile playing on your lips. "You were being really persistent, and you looked pretty pathetic," you tease, "I couldn't just leave you on your own like that."

"Well.." You cleared your throat, attracting Rin's attention.

"And, you did..kind've confessed."

Rin's eyes widen in surprise as your words sink in, his memory of the night before starting to come back to him in fragments and pieces. "confessed?" his cheeks reddening as he looks up at you.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, you did," you say, recalling the messy and uncoordinated kiss he had drunkenly planted on you. "And you also kissed me."

Rin's face reddens further, his eyes dropping to the bedsheet as he struggles to process this information. "I...did?" he mumbles, his voice low. "I don't even remember doing that."

You can't help but chuckle softly, finding his reaction endearing. You reached out to place a comforting hand on his arm. "I don't think you were thinking straight."

Rin nods slowly, his face still flushed with embarrassment. He fiddles with the bedsheet, avoiding your gaze, as he processes the new information. "I'm so sorry," he mutters, his voice full of remorse. "I didn't mean to...to do that. I don't know what I was thinking..."

You shake your head, dispelling his fears with a gentle smile. "Hey, it's okay," you reassure him. "You weren't yourself. I understand. It's not a big deal." You smile at Rin, seeing the vulnerability in his eyes. "I'm not mad," you affirm, your voice warm with reassurance. "And...I didn't mind the kiss. I like you, Rin. I have for a while now."

Rin's breath hitches at your words, his eyes widening in surprise. He looks at you, the disbelief and hope visible on his face. "You do?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "Really?"

"Really. And who doesn't?" You chuckled.

── .♡

── .✦── .✦── .✦── .✦── .✦──

"So, Rin, there's a rumor circulating around that you're in a serious relationship. Any comment on that?" the interviewer asks.

"That's true. I'm in a relationship. We've been together for a while now."

The audience gasps in surprise, and the shocked interviewer scrambles to find something else to say. "That's...quite a revelation. Care to share how you two met?"

"We've known each other for a long time before we even got together, its just.." A small smile graced Rin's lips, recalling the things you said that he did that night. "well, one of us had the courage to confess and here we are now."

── .♡── .♡── .♡── .♡── .♡──

#fluff #blue lock fluff #itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #itoshi x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #itoshi rin #anime #anime x reader

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alienguts · 9 months ago

Text

To a Man's Heart (Bruce Wayne x f!Reader)

Summary: Bruce keeps forgetting to eat.

Warnings: None unless food counts

Request?: No

A/N: It turns out that I don't like to describe people eating.

Y/N and Bruce had been together for so long that they knew each other inside and out. Every little habit and quirk was accounted for and as soon as something was off, they knew something was wrong.

But there was one thing that Y/N just could not fully understand: how it was possible for Bruce, one of the most ripped and athletic men she’d ever met, to go without food for so long. She’d known guys who played sports in high school who never stopped eating, but there were times when she’d seen Bruce eat three bites of a sandwich in an entire day before heading out on patrol.

It was roughly 8pm when Y/N descended the steps into the Cave, her slippered feet softly clanking against the steel. Bruce had told her earlier that day that he wasn’t planning to go out on patrol and had sent the boys instead, but she still didn’t expect to find him at the computer in deep concentration. She almost hoped that he wouldn’t notice her almost creeping up behind him, but of course nothing got past Bruce, even without all of his detective equipment.

“What’re you doing down here?” he asked as he turned around in his chair to see her.

“Just checking up on you,” she said as she made her way across to him. “I know you’re usually quiet but I never heard from you all night.”

He smiled warmly and held his arms out to her so she could climb into his lap. “Sorry, I’ve just been so engrossed in this case I forgot to go back upstairs.”

Y/N let herself be pulled into his warm chest and rested her cheek on his shoulder, not realising how much she’d missed his touch after not seeing him all day. He wrapped his arms around her and gently stroked her arms and shoulders. She felt like she was just about to drift off to sleep when a low growling sound snapped her out of her daze.

Not again.

“Bruce, when was the last time you ate something?” she asked as she pulled herself up to look at him.

“What?” Bruce asked, as if it was a ridiculous thing for her to ask him.

“When was the last time you ate something?” she asked again, slower.

He was quiet for a second, the wheels turning in his mind as he tried to remember. “Maybe around noon? I’ve spent more time working than thinking about food, Y/N.”

Y/N let go of him and stood up before grabbing his hands and tugging on them. “C’mon, we’re gonna get you something to eat,” she said. She could feel him trying to resist, but he knew better than to try to stop her from getting him to take care of him.

Bruce let her pull him to his feet, his joints stretching out from sitting down for so long, and followed her back up the stairs to the Manor. The warmth of the study hit both as soon as the hidden door slid open and light from the sun filtered into the doorway. Even though it was only 8 ‘o clock, it was still light out and birds were singing outside.

After spending all day underground in the Cave, Bruce welcomed the quiet of the Manor and could feel himself relaxing with each step they both took through the study. The hum of electronics slowly faded out of earshot as they made their way out of the study and towards the kitchen, their footsteps echoing around them.

Once they’d reached the kitchen, Y/N guided Bruce to sit at the table before going to the fridge and opening it.

“What’re you in the mood for?” she asked as she studied the fridge’s contents.

“I’ll just have whatever you’re having,” he said and got up to stand behind her. “You know I’m not picky.”

“Bruce, I already had dinner.”

The fridge was relatively bare, considering that it was the day before she and Alfred did the grocery shopping and they had a full house of vigilantes to feed. Y/N’s eyes finally landed on an almost empty pack of bacon, along with some leftover lettuce and tomatoes.

“I could make you a BLT,” she offered, looking over her shoulder at Bruce.

He leaned down to softly kiss the top of her head. “BLT sounds wonderful,” he said.

Even though she usually insisted that Bruce not help her in the kitchen, Y/N let him slice the tomatoes and lettuce for her while she cooked the bacon. She knew Alfred wouldn’t be happy if there was a small kitchen fire and she wasn’t willing to take the chance. Thankfully, he’d managed to do it without cutting himself or making too much of a mess.

Clearly some of his swordsmanship translates to the kitchen, Y/N thought as she assembled the sandwich and plated up. They sat side-by-side at the table, and as soon as Y/N gave Bruce his plate, he took one half of the sandwich and handed the other half to her.

“No, Bruce, it’s yours,” she said as she tried to push his hand away.

“You should eat something too,” he said before taking a bite of his half.

“I already ate, you have it.”

He shrugged and continued to eat, almost wolfing the sandwich down. Obviously he was hungrier than he’d thought before.

“Is it okay?” Y/N asked. “I know I’m not as good a cook as Alfred is.”

“It’s delicious,” Bruce said, giving her a warm smile. “You are a good cook, miles better than I could ever be.”

“It’s just a sandwich Bruce,” she said bashfully, “how hard can it be to get right?”

“Trust me, I would know,” he said through his last bite. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“You don’t need to thank me, it’s kind of my job to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

“Well, I’d say you’re doing a great job,” Bruce said as he stood up to put his plate in the sink. “What would I do without you?”

“Same as you did before, leave whatever Alfred makes you go cold.”

Bruce laughed and came back to the table to gather Y/N in his arms.

“See, this is why I married you,” he said as he gently pulled her to stand. “You make me food, and you make me laugh.”

Y/N returned his hug and buried her face in his chest, breathing in his scent and letting him take over her senses.

“You’ve been sitting at that computer all day,” she said when she lifted her head up. “You needed a break.”

He hummed in agreement. “I think I’m gonna call it a day,” he said. “This case isn’t that urgent and the boys are dealing with patrol.”

“Does that mean you’ll come watch a movie with me?” Y/N asked, giving him her best puppy dog eyes.

Bruce smiled and leaned down to gently kiss her forehead. “Yes it does,” he said. “Just don’t be surprised if I fall asleep on you.”

Y/N let go of him and took his hand again to lead him to the living room. “I don’t mind if you fall asleep, at least I get to spend some time with you.”

#bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #bruce wayne x you #batman x you #batman x batmom #bruce wayne x batmom #batmom!reader #bruce wayne imagine #batman imagine #dc x you #dc x reader #x reader #self ship #female reader #*my writing

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iamgonnagetyouback · 1 month ago

Text

james potter x reader where he's jealous and remus doesn't always talk about sirius

The Gryffindor common room was unusually quiet for a Saturday evening. Most students were milling about outside, taking advantage of the crisp autumn weather, but James Potter was perched stiffly on one of the armchairs by the fireplace, staring at the door as though it owed him an explanation.

Across from him, Remus Lupin was mid-rant, gesturing vaguely with a chocolate frog. "And so I told Sirius he couldn’t just charm the books to read themselves, because that defeats the entire purpose of studying, doesn’t it? But, of course, he—James, are you even listening to me?"

James, who hadn’t looked away from the door in at least five minutes, blinked. "What? Yeah, of course, I’m listening to you."

Remus raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Really? Then what did I just say?"

James scratched the back of his neck, his hazel eyes still glued to the door. "Uh… something about Sirius and… words?"

Remus let out a dramatic sigh, his cheeks flushing ever so slightly. "You know, I don’t always talk about Sirius, James. I have other topics."

James finally tore his gaze from the door to smirk at his friend. "Sure, Moony. And I’m totally listening to you and not, in any way, staring at the door and counting how long my lovely girlfriend’s been gone with Amos bloody Diggory."

Remus tilted his head, catching the light teasing in James’ tone but also noting the furrow of concern in his brows. "They’ve only been gone for five minutes, Prongs."

"Exactly!" James exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "What could they possibly need to discuss in private for that long? Private. Honestly." He made air quotes around the word as though it were the most ridiculous concept in the world.

"Maybe something private?" Remus suggested with a shrug.

James leaned back, crossing his arms and pouting like a child denied dessert. "You’re not helping, Moony. What could Diggory possibly want? He doesn’t even like books—probably doesn’t know what a book is. Did you see the way he walked her out of the common room? All confident, like he owns the place? Smug git."

Remus suppressed a smile. "You know, if you’re this worried, maybe you should just follow them next time."

"Don’t tempt me." James narrowed his eyes, the wheels clearly turning in his head.

James let out an indignant scoff, running a hand through his messy hair. “Why couldn’t he say it here, in front of everyone, where it’s safe?” His voice grew increasingly dramatic, and Remus could only watch, mildly horrified but also slightly entertained.

“James, I don’t think Diggory is plotting her demise,” Remus reasoned dryly.

“You don’t know that!” James hissed, glaring at the door again as though willing it to open. “He’s suspicious. I mean, why does he always have to be so—ugh—charming?” He spat the word like it physically hurt him. “It’s unnatural. What does he think he’s playing at, asking for ‘private’ time?!”

“You’re spiraling,” Remus pointed out, though his tone carried no real concern.

“Maybe I am spiraling!” James snapped. “Maybe spiraling is exactly what I should be doing when my girlfriend is out there—alone—with Amos Diggory. For TEN MINUTES.”

Before Remus could reply, the portrait swung open, and in walked you, looking perfectly content and completely unaware of the turmoil you’d left in your wake.

James bolted upright, all his previous indignation vanishing in an instant. "You’re back!" He practically sprinted to your side, his glasses slightly askew from the rush.

You blinked at him, startled by his sudden enthusiasm. "Uh, yeah. I was only gone for ten minutes."

"Ten minutes?!" James gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. "Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? It felt like ten days! One minute feels like a day without you, darling!"

Remus groaned, muttering something about melodrama under his breath as he retreated to his chair.

You laughed, shaking your head. "James, you��re ridiculous."

"Ridiculously relieved you’re safe!" he quipped, his eyes softening as they roved over your face. "So… what did Diggory want to talk about? In private," he added, voice dripping with mockery.

You rolled your eyes. "He wanted me to tutor him in Charms."

James’ brow furrowed, jealousy bubbling up, though he masked it poorly with faux curiosity. "And you said…?"

"I said no, of course," you replied breezily. "He’s hopeless and creepy. I can live without that headache."

James’ face immediately brightened, his chest puffing out in pride. “That’s my girl,” he said with a smug grin, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Smart, talented, and way too good to waste her time on someone like Diggory.”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “Jealous, are we?”

“Who, me? Jealous?” James scoffed, though his ears turned pink. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Behind him, Remus coughed pointedly.

“Alright, maybe a little,” James admitted, pulling you closer. “But it’s only because I’m madly in love with you, and if Diggory thinks he can swoop in and—”

“James, I literally said no to him,” you interrupted, laughing. “He doesn’t stand a chance.”

“Damn right, he doesn’t,” James said, his jealousy melting into his usual cheeky grin. “Now, c’mon, I’ve been waiting forever to cuddle you.”

“Forever being ten minutes,” Remus quipped from his armchair.

James turned to him with a mock glare. “I don’t need your sass, Moony.”

“Of course you don’t,” Remus said with a sigh, hiding a smirk behind his book.

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Were you really that worried, Potter?"

"Not worried, per se," he replied, the smirk creeping back onto his face. "Just… concerned for your well-being. Diggory’s a creep. He could’ve tried something. And if he had, well…" He flexed his arms exaggeratedly. "I’d have to remind him why I’m Gryffindor’s best duelist and the Quidditch captain."

You burst into laughter, playfully shoving his shoulder. "Oh, James. You’re impossible."

"And yet, you love me," he said cheekily, stealing a quick kiss on your forehead.

BONUS

The Quidditch pitch was alive with the sound of beating wings and shouts as the Gryffindor team practiced. You sat on the stands, your eyes glued to James as he weaved through the air, golden and red robes fluttering behind him.

Next to you, Remus was trying to explain something—probably related to Sirius, as always—but you weren’t paying attention.

"And then, of course, Sirius said—Dove? Are you even listening to me?"

"Of course I am, Rem," you said absentmindedly, your gaze fixed on James as he executed a particularly sharp turn to dodge a bludger.

"Yeah? What was I talking about then?"

"Something about Sirius and… stuff?"

Remus groaned, his cheeks turning pink. “Why does everyone assume I’m always talking about Sirius?”

You didn’t answer, already back to watching James, who waved at you mid-air and nearly crashed into one of the goalposts. Remus sighed. “You and James are perfect for each other,” he muttered, shaking his head.

#dividers by enchanthings #pictures from pinterest #ivy's soft scribbles ೀ #james fleamont potter #james potter x reader #james potter fluff #james potter

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teyums · 2 years ago

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a/n: cats are so funny because they genuinely think they’re doing something nice for you when they drop a mouse at your feet as an offering and it’s actually the opposite. i was watching my cat play with her little toy and it just brought the terrifying memory back to me bc WHY WOULD YOU THINK I WANT THIS? As soon as the idea came i wrote it, Neteyam just seems like the type LMAOO 😭

neteyam x human!reader

It takes Neteyam quite a while to understand the difference between Na’vi women and human women, especially the difference in what you do and don’t like. But you can’t blame him, you don’t look like his kind, you don’t smell like his kind, hell, you don’t even dress like them.

The Na’vi’s behavior very closely resembles that of a house cat on earth— you’ve noted after studying how Neteyam’s emotions portray themselves through his expressive tail, how his ears dip when he’s angry or perk up when he’s excited, or how he purrs when you finally agree to sitting in his lap instead of your chair while you finish up your work for the day. With the innate behavior of the two creatures mirroring each other almost completely, it’s no surprise that this also heavily factors into what they deem as ‘gifts’ for their favorite human.

Just as housecats will fetch their humans dead animals or rodents as an offering to them, the Na’vi way isn’t too far from that. You hated so much as looking at dead animals, let alone being near them, but when your childhood cat, Loki, used to bring field mice into the home and drop them at the foot of your bed, at least it was small enough for you to scoop into a grocery bag with pinched eyes and a hand over your nose while you fought back the tears of sheer terror.

Most of Neteyam’s catlike nature rendered adorable to you, and while you were more than willing to learn more about the ways of his people, this new custom he’d introduced you to had your heart dropping out of your ass like a brick and your soul exiting your body as if you could do without it. It’s when he shows up to the lab, a dead boar strung over his back with the biggest, toothiest smile you’ve ever seen spread on his lips until a bloodcurdling scream wipes it clean off his expression.

“Oh my God, ‘Teyam, get it away, get it away!” You shrill, so startled you almost tumble out of your desk chair, the hairs on your neck standing straight up as you divert your attention from the animal that’s almost the size of your body, a panicked hand splayed over your rumbling chest and the other extended out, palm towards him.

“What? You don’t like it? Should I have gone with a hexapede (deer) instead?” His brows gather in the center of his forehead when he steps closer and you immediately yelp and scoot back, the metal wheels of your chair screeching against the smooth tile with the effort of your retreat. He’s wholeheartedly confused, because any woman of his kind would find such a gesture as this one beyond thoughtful, and even romantic. Catching one of these things isn’t easy, and a clean kill with an arrow through the heart as to not rupture or damage the meat of the animal is even harder.

“I even skinned it for you!” He urges with a pout.

Your involuntary squeal interrupts his attempt to convince you as you fan your face with your hands, but it seems as if he’s still having trouble understanding.

“Perhaps I should have roasted it as well…” He ponders to himself with a hand pinching his chin, deep in contemplation while he keeps his catch over his shoulder and his eyes cast toward the wall, completely missing the way your trembling hands scramble over your desk for something to launch at him.

“GET IT OUT!”

He winces at the pitch of your shriek, astounded by how that loud of a sound could come out of such a tiny being. His brows raise before he quickly ducks to dodge the one-subject notebook that flaps past his head in a blur of fluttering paper, and he hurriedly obliges your wishes with a few steps back and a rushed ‘okay, okay!’.

Likes + Comments + Reblogs are much appreciated 💗

©teyums 2023

#avatar 2 #avatar way of water #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam fic #neteyam fluff #avatar twow #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x human reader

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wandasboy · 4 days ago

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A Well-Deserved Break (part 2)

Older!Detective!Agnes x Younger!GN!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2

DO NOT COPY OR PUBLISH MY WORKS. MINORS DNI. 18+ ONLY

Summary: It had been a week since your last encounter with Agnes, you couldn’t stop thinking about her no matter how hard you tried.

Tags: Age gap, gn!reader, no use of y/n, pet names, flirting, suggestive themes, sexual content

Word Count: 1200+

A/N: Sorry it took so long! Also, I have never written smut before so bear with me. There will likely only be one more part.

It is finals week, and you have one more exam to study for. You had been hunched over your desk for most of the evening once classes were over and were beginning to feel how stiff your back and neck were. You decided it was time for a break. It’s winter, but you decide a walk would be nice, just to stretch and get your blood pumping. You pulled on the first coat you saw and walked outside.

About 10 minutes into your walk, you began to curse yourself for leaving the house without gloves or a hat, or even a thicker coat. Being stubborn, you shoved your hands in your pockets and kept going, not wanting to waste your break. As you are shuffling along the sidewalk, you hear a car pull up to a stop next to you.

“Well look who we have here, what are you doing walking around outside this late?” Detective Agnes smirks at you and waves you over.

You smile and walk closer to the passenger door. “Hi Chief, I’ve been studying for hours and wanted some fresh air.”

She watched as you rubbed your hands together, chilled from the cold breeze. “Pretty cold for a walk don’t you think, sweetheart? C’mon, hop in and get warm.”

Your face is red and wind-burnt and you can’t feel the tips of your fingers. She unlocks the door and you step in. “Thank you,” you mumble while shivering.

“So smart and yet you’re out here without gloves and a hat?” She clicks her tongue in feign disapproval. She reaches into the back and grabs an extra jacket, throwing it over your lap.

You pull it up over your arms and around your shoulders. In doing so, you catch a hint of her sandalwood and amber cologne lingering on the collar. You breathe it in, relaxing into the passenger seat.

She watches you in her peripherals, smiling to herself. Within minutes of pulling away, she gets a text which makes her huff in frustration.

“Damnit, stupid officers can’t do a single thing on their own.” She turns to look at you, “Sorry baby, I have to stop at the station and fix this. Do you want me to drop you off at your place?”

You can tell she’s peeved by the tone in her voice. Her grip on the wheel had tightened and she had turned back to face the road.

You had missed her since the last time you saw her. Although you had only been with her for a few minutes, you found yourself longing to spend more time with her. “Can I come with you?”

Agnes drew a short breath at your question, surprised. She quickly regained her composure, “I don’t see why not.”

~~~

Upon arriving at the station, Agnes opens the door for you, leading you to her office. She sits in her chair to take a call. You watch her from your spot near the door, unsure what to do. You try not to pay too much attention to the way her legs are spread, how her fingers grip the phone, and how every time she raises her voice it sends chills down your spine.

Instead of standing there awkwardly, you take the opportunity to look around her office. Her chair is pulled away from her desk, so you walk in front of her to look at the items on her desk. She has case files, sticky notes, a framed picture, and a few trinkets scattered on her desk. You pick up a half-solved rubik’s cube and begin to fidget with it.

Agnes looks up, watching you move in front of her, looking and touching the many items she has on her desk. She continues her conversation (although it is more her yelling at the person on the other end.)

Focused on the rubik’s cube, you barely notice her stand up, grabbing a file in front of you. You feel her breath on your neck and you shiver. Your heart begins to race as her front is almost flush to your back. Getting the file she needed, she sits back down in her chair. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

You turn to watch her, seeing how focused she is (albeit irritated), how she exudes authority and confidence. Gathering courage, you decide to sit on her desk, facing her, while you wait. She suddenly looks up, watching you. Her eyes rake over you and you shrink under her stare. She yells at the guy on the phone then hangs up with a sigh. You look down at her coyly as she sits back, enjoying her view.

“Such a pretty doll you are.” She smirks, watching how you react to her words. Without thinking, you lick your lips and shift on her desk. She suddenly stands up directly in front of you, quickly taking advantage of the slight spread of your legs, stepping between them. She places both hands on the desk on either side of you, leaning into your space. You gasp, feeling her up against you. She chuckles at your reaction and moves her mouth closer to your neck, whispering.

“You like this don’t you, sitting here, acting innocent. Such a tease.” She nips at your ear and you let out a small moan and instinctively shift your hips. The action causes your core to brush against her front.

She takes this opportunity to grab your hips and pull you closer. You yelp at her rough grip, which encourages her to grind you against her. You reach up and put your hands on her shoulders to stabilize yourself. “Mm, such pretty sounds.” She presses her lips to your neck, ghosting her lips slowly downward. She licks at your pulse point and you wrap a hand around her neck. She bucks her hips and slides one hand under your shirt. Before she gets further, there is a knock at the door. She pulls away from you and sighs. Someone yells, “goodnight chief” through the door and walks away.

Agnes looks at her watch and then back up to you. “It’s pretty late, we should get you home.”

You look at her, visibly frustrated. “But-”

“Another time, baby. C’mon.” She gives you her hand to help you down from her desk. She grabs her coat and takes your hand, leading you out of the station. The drive to your place is silent, the tension evident in the air. You wonder how she knows where you live, but don’t question her. Upon arriving, she turns to look at you.

“Goodnight, doll,” she says leaning over to kiss your cheek.

You feel your cheeks turn a dark shade of pink. “Goodnight Detective,” you say with a small smile and get out, turning around to wave once you reach your door.

Once you get inside, you lean against the door, letting out a deep breath. You close your eyes and try to stop your mind from racing. You decide to take a shower, hoping it will ease the butterflies in your stomach. After showering, you get in bed, knowing you’d be unable to focus on studying at this point. Lying in bed, your mind wanders, remembering the feeling of Agnes’ hands on you, her tongue tracing down your neck. You fall asleep, unable to ease the throb between your thighs.

~~~

Agnes drives back to her place, her mind replaying the events in her office. Upon getting home, she grabs a beer and sits on her couch, trying to distract herself from imagining having you all to herself, no interruptions…

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x gn reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x you #detective agnes #detective agnes o'connor #agnes o'connor x reader #agnes of westview #zero writes

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bullet-prooflove · 1 month ago

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Three Shots: Ryan x Reader (Yellowstone)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @trublu2u @yousigned-upforthis @queenslandlover-93 @ladychaos1525

Companion piece to:

Kitty - Ryan knows something's not right when he seees you with another man.

Such A Good Girl - Ryan makes a realisation about your undercover op.

It’s the gun shots that change everything.

There’s three of them, each one a loud retort that echoes through the clear night air as Ryan sits behind the wheel of his truck, that casefile on his lap. He’s out of the vehicle in an instant, heart hammering in his chest as he races towards the house with his Glock in his hand.

This shit right here, this is his nightmare.

The door is unlocked when he reaches it, it’s the way of people who buy second homes in remote areas like this. They don’t think to lock the doors because whose around to open them anyway.

The stench of cordite hits him the moment he steps into the hall way, he can taste it on his tongue as he searches the house for you with a franticness he feels in the very depths of his soul. It’s in the study he finds you and the scene… it’s nothing like he expected.

You’re sitting in a leather chesterfield with Myer’s dead body at your feet and your gun in your hand, resting lightly on the arm of the chair. Blood blossoms across the expensive cream sweater the other man is wearing, saturating the fabric as crimson spreads underneath him. It’s the expression on his features that gets Ryan, the look of absolute surprise that his life had ended this way.

“Katalina.” Ryan says softly trying to understand what happened and you look up at him without so much as a hair out of place.

“I found that.” You tell him as you gesture to the laptop on the coffee table. “And I just couldn’t let him get away with it.”

Ryan folds his sleeve over his hand, careful not to leave a fingerprint as he presses the space bar. A video starts to play and it’s the worst fucking thing he’s seen in his entire life.

“There’s one for each of them.” You tell him, your voice completely devoid of emotion. “One for each of the girls he raped and then dumped on the reservation.”

It’s then that it dawns on Ryan, what happened here tonight. Myers hadn’t attacked you at all. You’d executed him.

Three to the chest, just like they taught you at the academy.

“You need to make the call.” You tell him, your eyes meeting his with a clarity he finds harrowing. “Tell them what you found when you walked into this room.”

“I’m not letting you go to prison for putting down a fucking animal.” Ryan tells you and he can tell your surprised by the expression on your features. “He doesn’t get to take you down with him.”

Already his mind is working damage control, the same way it does with every single mess he’s ever had to clean up for the Duttons.

“You found the video and he attacked you.” Ryan informs you as he starts to stage the scene in his head. “When you shot him, you were in fear for your life.”

“Ryan.” You say gently as you stand up and step towards him. “Nobody’s going to believe that, there’s not a mark on me.”

“Well baby.” He sighs as grasps your arms and rolls up your sleeves. “We’re gonna have to change that.”

The next couple of minutes are a true testament of love and Ryan hates every fucking second of it. He grips your arms so tightly, he leaves finger marks embedded in the flesh. He tears your shirt, sending the buttons careening in different directions. He fucks up your hair, yanking it out of that neat braid so it’s mused up and loose. When it comes to the crunch, to actually inflicting violence on you, he just can’t force himself to do it so he steps back, surveying the mess he’s made of you.

It’s not enough, he realises, his heart sinking and that’s when you take the intuitive.

“There’s a rolling pin in the kitchen.” You tell him, your voice resolute. “I need you to get it for me.”

Love Ryan? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#ryan yellowstone #ryan yellowstone x reader #yellowstone #ian bohen

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lonesome-sometimes · 3 months ago

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up on the bookshelf

wheels on the bus 2 and it’s completely different because there is no bus or any form of transport at all really and matty is a librarian but it’s still wheels on the bus 2 (in the brat remix album cover format)

that was until a certain someone sitting behind the librarian desk caused you to drop them abruptly, sending a loud echo throughout the near silent building.

“matty?” you say in disbelief.

matty healy x female reader

content warnings: public sex, sweet service top matty, age gap, oral (female receiving), slight blood kink when you squint, lovey dovey stuff because I miss matty I’m genuinely a trainwreck right now

minors do not interact!

with your reading list in one hand, you huff in annoyance as you fail to find the last few textbooks you needed for the rest of the semester. admitting your defeat, you carry the rest of your books towards the front desk, already dreading the walk back to campus on the other side of town.

that was until a certain someone sitting behind the librarian desk caused you to drop them abruptly, sending a loud echo throughout the near silent building.

“matty?” you say in disbelief.

he looks up from the book he was engrossed in, startled by the loud thud. he takes a second to register who you were, scrambling to push his bookmark into place before turning his full attention towards you. “y/n? oh my go- hey! hey, how are you? god, I haven’t seen you since-”

“since the really, really long and awkward bus ride home with your wife in our presence after you-” you explain nonchalantly, causing the older to choke on his own spit as you remind him of your rest stop bathroom antics, not that he had ever forgotten.

he laughs nervously, pushing a hand through his shorter curls. “I mean, I guess? anyway, what are you doing here?”

“oh, I go to college here.” you say like its obvious, gesturing to nothing as you look around the empty room. “I just hate our campus library, or just our campus in general I suppose, so I come here to study and take my books out. It’s much quieter here, campus is too…studenty?”

he laughs with you, chuckling softly at how ridiculous it sounded. “I get your point, but aren’t you meant to like, enjoy all of that?” he thinks for a moment, shaking his head softly. “nevermind, that’s not the point. this is crazy, what a nice surprise I-”

“you have a moustache now.” you observe out loud, your tongue working quicker than your brain as your eyes lingered on his upper lip and the new strip of hair there, moving down towards the tight sleeves of his grey tshirt and admiring the way it hugged his frame perfectly. “...and you look like you’ve been working out…don’t tell me you…”

his cheeks tinge pink, swinging his chair slightly away from you as he lets out a nervous breath. “I told he, I mean, not about us! not exactly, I just told her how I felt and here I now am, working day shifts at the local library, waiting for my whole music thing to take off, while she vacates on some island somewhere with her neeew husband.” he draws out the new, politely taking a book from an older lady and wishing her a nice day, turning back towards you. “I’m happy here though, the people are nice and well, you’re here.”

It’s your turn to blush at his words, forgetting how sweet he had been with you in the bathroom moments after he had fucked your throat raw. “oh, come on matty, it’s not like you sat and dreamt about me everyday like a fairytale princess waiting for her prince to come…” you half joke half admit about yourself, causing his cheeks to turn a darker shade of pink at the comparison, his secrets spilling without having even said anything.

“oh I seeee.” you singsong as you lean forward, putting your hands on the desk so that you were leaning over him, letting your oversized tshirt fall off your shoulder slightly and revealing your collarbone. not the most flattering outfit you could have worn, but you weren’t exactly expecting your random one bus stand to show up anytime soon. “been thinking about me, matty?”

he visibly swallows, opening his mouth to answer but instead his eyes widen as a mother and daughter approach the desk. you stand up straight again, slightly embarrassed as you pull your tshirt centre again. you watch the exchange, matty smiling ever so sweetly as he hands the young girl her picture book and again wishes them a lovely day. he turns to you once more, sighing softly. “darling, I don’t think now is a good time, I’m working and-”

“matty, I managed to seduce you into fucking my throat with enough time for small talk afterwards inside the bathroom of a service station during a twenty minute rest stop, all while your wife-”

“-ex wife.” he corrects, smiling softly.

“...ex wife, was sitting back on the bus unaware of how her sweet little husband was crying for me and asking me about my favourite radiohead album, and you’re gonna sit here and tell me you can’t have a private conversation with me because you’re at work?”

theres a moment of silence as he looks between you and the empty room, standing up suddenly and grabbing your hand as he pulls you back towards an abandoned section of the library. smiling wide, you expect him to push you up against one of the old bookcases and start kissing you like a man starved as he pulls you in front of him, but it never comes.

Instead, he pulls you in. hands coming up around your waist, he hugs you. unexpected and unsure of what to do at first, you let your arms come up around his shoulders, pulling him in closer as you stroke the hair on the back of his neck softly, letting him breathe you in as you stay silent for a moment.

he pulls away, the both of you laughing as you realise how ridiculous this is, not having shared more than ten minutes alone together that didn’t include a quickie in a restroom. “everything okay, matty?” you ask, pushing his hair away from his face and letting your hand rest against his cheekbones as he nods.

“I wanted to erm, thank you, for helping me realise things about my life and marriage, I might not look like anything special at the moment but since meeting you I’ve been able to find my own place, I have a kitten who I adore, and I actually get to work on my music I-” he stops. “I’m really happy y/n, and I owe that to you.”

for a second you’re worried he’s being completely serious. “m-matty, you surely can’t fully believe I’m to blame for all that, you barely even know me I-”

he starts kissing down your collarbone, letting your tshirt fall again as he sinks down down down till he’s almost kneeling in front of you, his hands coming up towards your tshirt, breathing heavy. “no really darling, thank you so, so much.” he breaths, punctuating each so with a wet kiss to your stomach, kissing and licking at each expanse of skin he can reach. your hand comes up to cover your mouth, the other moving to hold the back of hid head through the fabric of your shirt. somehow this felt much more intimate, more naughty, than the restroom ever did.

he reappears from under your shirt, staring up at you with complete adoration as his fingers dance up your thighs and hooking themselves into the waistband of your leggings. “can I please?” he asks ever so politely, although your pants are already being pulled down low enough so that he can access where he wanted before you had chance to answer. your face was on fire.

“been thinking about doing this since I met you, wanted to taste you so bad darling.” he breaths out against you sending goosebumps across your skin, lips so close to you as he teases before finally settling on your core.

you desperately try to stay quiet, the fact that you were both in a library being some sick torture and punishment for engaging in infidelity beforehand because good god was he good with his tongue, licking and sucking at your clit like he was desperate. his large hands almost enveloped your waist, holding you in place as he began to fuck you on his tongue up against the shelf behind you. you thread your fingers through his salt and pepper locks, frowning when it was a little too short to pull. still, you let your fingers stay where they were, your lips bitten red as you tried to conceal your noises.

suddenly he stops, pulling away from you with only a trail of spit connecting the two of you, lips glistening with your wetness. you look down, brows furrowed in confusion as you try and catch your breathe. “w-why’d you stop?”

he giggles before diving in again like a teenager, his hands moving to hook around the backs of your thighs now. you moan around your fist, desperatly trying to stay as quiet as you can but failing miserably. he shushes you, the vibration from his vocal chords not helping your situation as you feel yourself quickly approaching the edge. “m-matty I-”

he pulls away for a small second, eyes wide and hungry. “please cum for me darling, need to feel you cum on my tongue-” he begs, quickly diving back in as he licks you through your orgasm, groaning softly as he feels you clench around his tongue, lapping at your folds as he cleans up your orgasm.

“fuck-” you bring a finger up towards your lip, blood pooling on your tongue from where you had to bite to keep quiet unless you wanted the whole library to hear you. he pulls your leggings back up and over your thighs, the both of you silently thanking somebody for the fact that nobody was looking for cooking books. he smiles up at you dopily, allowing himself to catch his breath before standing back up.

“good?” he breaths out, pulling your bloodied finger to his lips to lick it clean. You couldn’t find the words to answer, nodding as you watch his lips sucking your fingers entranced. He pulls off them with a pop, smiling at the way he left you speechless.

you both forget where you are until an older male comes around the corner, causing you both to jump away from each other. he doesn’t suspect much, why would he? shooting you both a small smile before turning and going back the way he came, sending you both laughing.

“so…” he begins as your giggles come to a stop, shuffling from foot to foot nervously. “I don’t actually finish up in here for another hour, but I could drive you back to campus? your books seemed heavy, and I’m guessing you don’t have a car…”

god, you were so smitten for him and you had only spent less than an hour with him alone at most. “...or I could come to yours?”

he smiles, thinking for a moment as you two start walking back towards the desk, to no surprise the place was still pretty much empty. “wanna see a picture of lilah?”

you squeal at the idea of singing his kitten, sending apologies to nobody at the sudden loud noise coming from you once again. “yes please.” you nod and whisper, the idea of seeing both matty and lilah filling you with warmth.

you were right, the local library was definitely better than the campus library.

#matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty healy fic #the 1975 fic

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year ago

Note

One sentence for your brain kickstart

"How did you do that?!"

Eddie was certain that Nancy Wheeler was the one who sold her soul to the devil.

Or maybe he was just a little loopy from the drugs they were still pumping into his system.

He was told if he could finish all his exams with a C or better, he could graduate. Kind of a "we're sorry we were wrong about you but we want you gone" thing.

Nancy made him flashcards, and sat with him for a couple hours every afternoon going over her own study guides for classes.

She'd quickly found that he was smart enough to pass without her help, except for one subject: pre-calculus.

He tried, she watched him try, and she tried so hard to explain in a way that he could understand, but he just couldn't.

"I'm calling in reinforcements," she said on the third afternoon in a row of Eddie getting so frustrated his heart rate spiked and a nurse walked in to make sure he was okay.

"Who at Hawkins is smarter than you?" Eddie asked, doing his best not to let the frustrated tears fall yet.

"Overall? No one. But in pre-calc? Steve."

No way.

There was no way.

"Steve Harrington? The Steve that carried me out of hell? The Steve that looked me in my eye yesterday and asked if I knew any Hobbits in real life?" Eddie's confusion only grew as Nancy started to nod along. "You can't be fuckin' serious. My future depending on the abilities of Steve."

"If he can't help, I'm not sure who can."

So they finished up his biology practice exam and waited.

When Steve arrived, Nancy caught him up on everything while Eddie watched him nodding along, hands on his hips like he was receiving his next instructions during a basketball game.

She left, saluting him on her way out the door, an unreadable smirk on her face.

"So. Pre-calc is trying to kill you?" Steve asked as he sat in the chair Nancy had just occupied.

"It may succeed," he grumbled back.

"Nah. If I can pass with an A, you can." Steve looked over one of the papers Nancy had handed to him before leaving, brows furrowing. "This is from the practice test you did?"

"Failed it," Eddie nodded, playing with the rings on his finger.

Steve set the papers down on his meal tray on wheels, pulling it closer so they could both look at it.

"I see where you were going. You just took a wrong turn, see?" Steve started working the problem from the beginning, the pencil scratching against the paper as Steve found the answer with ease.

"How did you do that?!" Eddie asked after a moment of shocked silence.

"I'll show you slowly. You're just overthinking the third step."

Steve explained each step, showing him as he went exactly what to do.

It took a couple tries, but Eddie finally got it.

The next day, Nancy gave him another practice test.

He passed with a B.

And after another study session with Steve, he passed the real thing with an A.

When Steve heard, he leaned down and kissed the top of his head unexpectedly.

Eddie stared up at him with wide eyes.

"Dammit. I knew the drugs were good, but now I know I've been dreaming this whole time," Eddie whispered, afraid to wake himself up.

"They haven't even given you anything today so you could take your exams, Eds."

"Oh. Right." Eddie blinked. "So, that was real?"

Steve answered with a brush of his lips against Eddie's.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #drabble

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zxvmp · 8 months ago

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Cracked (Stoner!Dabi x Nerd!Fem Reader)

tags: Smut, highschool AU!, there’s no quirks, dabi doesn’t have burn marks, dabi has an eyebrow piercing, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, marking, rough sex, degradation, smoking, peer pressure(?)

summary: you get assigned to tutor the senior stoner. going to his house for a study session escalated to something more.

You weren’t stoked for tutoring Dabi. Sure, you loved to help people study, but when it came to people like him, you found it difficult. He was failing practically every class and the only senior in Physical Science A. You were amazed he was still even allowed to attend the school.

When you were told you had to tutor him, you almost ended it all in that exact moment. You, a straight A student, top of all your classes, tutoring him, a failure.

“No disrespect, sir, but why me?” You asked your principal, attitude in your tone.

Dabi scoffed and slouched into his chair next to you. The principal eyed you both before letting out a sigh.

“Miss (Y/N), I know this task may seem…” He paused and stared at Dabi who grinned and gave a small wave, “Difficult…. but he could really use the help.”

You side eyed Dabi before pouting, “Fine.”

After your meeting in the principals office, you and Dabi exchanged numbers. You set up a study date at his house directly after school, and he surprisingly agreed without complaints. He even offered to drive you after school since you normally took the bus. You were a bit hesitant a first, but you took him up on his offer.

Once the final school bell rang, you waited at the doors to the student parking lot. Multiple students left and the cars in the parking lot dwindled down. You began to wonder if Dabi lied and ditched you.

Just as you were about to press his contact to call him, he turned the corner of the hallway.

“Took you long enough!” You cross your arms and leaned your weight onto your right leg.

He smirked, “My apologies, your highness.”

You rolled your eyes and followed him out of the school. His car was parked at the end of the lot. It was an all-black hellcat. You almost forgot he came from a rich family. His brother was a very smart student, almost on your level. However, he had three more years ahead of him to reach yours.

The moment you opened the passenger door, the scent of weed entered your nostrils, causing your nose to scrunch up. Dabi noticed your facial expression and chuckled as he hopped into the drivers seat.

“Seriously?” You peaked your head into the car and raised an eyebrow at him.

His right hand was already on the steering wheel, ready to drive. “Um, yeah? Get in.”

A groan escaped your mouth as you tossed your backpack onto the floor of the car before plopping down onto the leather seat. Before he backed out of his parking space, he pulled out a vape and took a long hit. You stared at the device and read: “Blue Rasperry, Breeze Pro.”

His eyes met yours and noticed what you were looking at, “Wanna hit it?”

“Are you crazy? No.”

Dabi snickered as he placed his hand on the back of your headrest, twisting his body to look in the back window, “Figured.”

You peaked over at him as he backed out of the parking space. His black T-shirt slightly lifted, causing his lower abdomen to show. Your eyes immediately darted to his prominent V-line.

Dabi caught you looking as he returned to his sitting position and smirked. You rasied eyebrows and averted your eyes away from him to act like you weren’t caught.

The drive to his place was quiet. Neither of you spoke a word to each other. Only occasional glances. His music taste was much different from yours. Though, you did know some of the artists he played: Lucki, Pierce the Veil, and Chase Atlantic.

When you arrived at his place, you picked up on the fact that he had his own apartment. It made you wonder why he moved out so early. It’s not like you were in college yet, and it was only the second trimester. However, you kept your questions to yourself.

His place smelled like weed and air fresheners. At least he tried to mask the scent.

You slid off your uggs at the doorsteps and followed him towards the kitchen. Not knowing where to go, you nervously held your backpack and waited for him to say something.

Dabi noticed you looked lost and pointed towards the large couch in the living room, “You can set up, or whatever, in there.”

You nodded and did as he said. You placed your laptop on the coffee table and set out pens and pencils along with some notebooks.

Dabi was busy searching the refrigerator for food while you patiently waited.

His apartment was neat for the most part. There was a large TV that gang over a fire place with blue flames. You found the blue flames fun to look at.

“You want pizza?”

You perked up at his voice and turned to look at him. He was leaned against his counter, facing you with his phone in hand and a lit joint in the other.

“Um, sure.”

He nodded and brought the joint to his lips. You turned away and began to scroll through your phone as you waited for him to finish ordering. Once he was done, he took a spot next to you on the couch with two water bottles and an ash tray.

You eyed his joint, “Do you really have to smoke right now?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “Helps me focus.”

His words made you curious. Did weed really do that? You thought it made you freak out.

Dabi could read the curiosity on your face. He held out the joint for you to take it, nodding his head slightly for you to hit it.

You shook your head, “I don’t smoke.”

He frowned and left his hand out, “Oh c’mon, one hit won’t hurt.”

You hummed and stared down at his hand. Would one hit really hurt? You were honestly considering it.

“Here,” Dabi took a long hit and scooted closer to you. You could smell his cologne and the weed much more. He raised his free hand and pointed at your mouth. You blushed, nervous at what he was indicating. However, you complied. You opened your mouth and watched as he exhaled the smoke into your mouth. “Take a deep breath.”

You followed his instruction. As soon as you did, you felt a slight sting in the back of your throat, but you didn’t cough.

Dabi hummed, “That’s funny. You took it a lot better than I expected.”

In your mind, you were stressing out. Why were you going along with what he said? Why did he look at you the way he did? And most importantly, why was he looking better than usual?

Dabi had attractive features, you knew that. You just didn’t care. You didn’t like his personality. He was a jerk, a loser, and he smoked. But, you couldn’t help but feel something towards him. You always have. That’s why you hated the fact you had to tutor him. You knew your feelings would increase.

“Um- So, what class do you wanna focus on today?”

He took a drag of the joint and squinted his eyes as he thought. Smoke trailed out of his nose as he softly exhaled. “Ask me later, I wanna finish this joint first.”

“Dabi-” You were cut off by him placing the joint in between your lips. Your eyes widened, but he calmed you down by giving you a reassuring lazy smile.

“Inhale.”

Once again, you followed his instruction. This time, there wasn’t a burning sensation. You took it a lot more smoother. It made you wonder yourself how you took it so well. As you pulled back, you maintained eye contact with him and exhaled softly. His half-lidded blue eyes peered into yours. It made you nervous.

Your study session somehow turned into a smoking session. Never in a million years would you think you’d be seated on Dabi’s couch smoking with him. Each time you tried to bring up the topic of studying, he’d blow you off and say ‘one more hit, then we can.’ Except that was 10 hits ago and the pizza he had ordered earlier was opened on the coffee table with two slices gone.

Dabi handed you a water bottle because he could tell from the look on your face you needed it. You’d never been high before. Everything was hitting you at once. Your vision was slowed and your body was much more sensitive than usual.

“How you feelin’, pretty?”

The joint was smooshed into the ash tray, finished by the two of you. You finished your water bottle and placed it on the coffee table.

“I… don’t know.” You giggle. “You sure this helps you focus?”

He nodded, “Always. Now, can you help me with this.” Dabi pulled out an old test he took in science. “My teacher told me he’d let me retake it Friday.”

You stared at his score, 10/45.

“Damn, that’s terrible.” You blurt out.

He choked back his laughter and looked at you. Your eyes were red and lowered. Your always neat hair was disheveled and you had a blush coating your cheeks. You were absolutely fried. He smirked at your broken form. He managed to crack the nerd.

You took notice that he had been staring at you and tried to recollect your thoughts, “Um, right, science.” You picked up his paper and stared at each question he got wrong. However, your mind couldn’t focus with his eyes scanning your body. You felt nervous under his gaze. “So, what don’t you understand?”

Dabi leaned in closer next to you and scanned the questions you had just looked at. You swallowed a thick lump in your throat from how close he was. Your thighs were touching and his arm was mere inches away from brushing up against yours. You admired his side profile as he looked at the paper you were holding up. His jawline was sharp, like his nose.

Dabi side eyed you, “Are you gonna help me, or keep staring?”

If you were sober, you’d know exactly how to answer his question. The fact was, you weren’t. You were high and somehow horny. Being near him wasn’t helping either. Anything he did made your body slightly twitch.

Your lips parted, but you couldn’t form a sentence.

The next thing that happened shocked the both of you. You dropped the paper and began to straddle him. His hands rested on the waist band of your leggings, while yours rested on his chest. Your heart was beating fast, and your chest was rising and falling rapidly.

He smirked at the state you were in, “What’s up with the sudden change of heart? Thought you wanted to study.”

“No, what I want now is…” You paused, unable to say the next word out of shame and embarrassment.

Dabis hand began to creep his hands underneath your crewneck that loosely rested on your shoulders. “…Is?”

You turned your head to the side and balled your hands up on his shirt.

He lowly chuckled as his hands stopped at the clip of your bra. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

Your bra was unclasped and shortly after, disregarded on the floor. Next was your crewneck. Inch by inch, Dabi lifted it up your body. Just as your breast began to appear, he stopped and looked at you. He had a smug smirk plaster on his lips, almost like he knew you’d end up like this.

“Well?”

You let go of any restraint telling you not to and leaned in to kiss him. It was a quick kiss. You pulled away ever so slightly to look at him in his eyes. All you could see was lust. In an instant, he crashed his lips onto yours roughly and fondled with your breast underneath your crewneck. You began to grind on his crotch in the process.

Finally, he got your crewneck off of you and tossed it on the floor. His mouth latched to your neck, littering it with his markings. While his mouth was busy on your neck, his hands were busy groping your boobs.

Soft mewls escaped your lips as you continued to grind against him. You could feel the bulge in his pants grow the louder your sounds were.

“You’re a freak, you know that?” Dabi muttered in between kisses.

You disregarded his words and reached down to take his shirt off. However, he stopped you and pulled away from your neck.

“Lay down.”

His tone was darker, more dominant. You followed orders and laid on your back with your head against the arm rest.

“So quick to follow orders,” Dabi chuckled, “just how desperate are you?”

You sigh, “Dabi-”

He hushed you. You formed a line with your lips and stayed silent. His eyes traveled down to your leggings, making your thighs press against each other. He smirked watching you squirm.

Your leggings and panties were ripped from you, tossed to the side. Now, you were completely bare underneath him. Dabi looked at each curve of your body, thinking of all the ways he could crack you even more. Just the thought of you going dumb on his cock made his dick twitch in his boxers.

The tension was thick. Dabis boner poked at his grey sweats, making your stomach do somersaults.

“Sorry, (Y/N), but I can’t wait any longer.” He began to rid himself of his pants and boxers, letting his cock spring free. “I’m sure you can take it though, right? I mean, you handled the weed well.”

You stared at his dick. It was big, thick too. A vein ran up from the base towards his tip. He kept his dick clean, which you liked. It wasn’t perfectly shaved, but it wasn’t extremely hairy either.

“C’mon, let me hear you say you can.”

You swallowed, “I- I can.”

He smirked and took off his shirt, tossing it to the side to join the rest of your clothes. “That’s my girl. Now, just lay there and look pretty for me, ‘mkay?”

You nodded.

His tip parted through your wet folds, gathering your slick to make it easy to slide in. Once his tip pressed into your tight hole, the two of you hissed. But that didn’t stop Dabi, he couldn’t stop. His hips bucked forward, shoving his length into you fully. You cried out, tears forming in your eyes from both pain and pleasure. He stretched you out, but at the same time made you feel so full.

“So fuckin’ tight..” He breathed out. “Relax, baby.”

Your tensed muscles calmed down, making it easier for him to move. Once he was able to complete a thrust, any sign of concern left Dabis body. You scratched at his back and moaned as his pace quickened. He gripped your hips so tight they were sure to leave bruises.

With each thrust he thrusted, the more it felt good.

“Fuck—Ah!” You gripped his forearms and tilted your head back.

Dabi was in love with the way your stomach bulged when his dick would move. With one hand, he pressed down on your stomach to feel himself moving in you. Your eyes widened and a broken cry came out of you mouth.

“You like that?” He laughed, “Man, you really are a slut. Underneath that nerdy persona, you’re just a freak aren’t you?”

Your eyes rolled back as his hips snapped upwards, making his dick hit deeper into you.

“Answer.”

“Yes! Fuck—yes.”

He hummed and continued to thrust into you at a brutal pace. You were on cloud nine, lost in pleasure. The weed in your system made the sex so much better. In addition, Dabi was constantly hitting your g-spot, which really made you go dumb.

Dabi shook your hands off him and hooked his arms underneath your thighs, putting you into a mating press. In this angle, he could reach even deeper.

You couldn’t form words anymore. Only, his name and moans came out your mouth.

“That’s right, keep on moaning my name pretty girl. Let me hear you scream.” His thumb began to rub harsh circles against your puffy clit, making you clench around his dick. You felt your stomach began to tighten.

The combination of his dick thrusting into you and the stimulation on your clit was beginning to become too much for you.

“Please, slow down. ‘S too much.” Your voice was high-pitched and whiney.

Dabi didn’t slow down, in fact, he picked up his pace. You were completely over the edge. Your orgasm took over your body without warning. Ringing began to form in your eyes and your vision blurred as you came on his cock.

You threw your head back and let out a final moan, clamping down on his member. Dabis thrusts began to stutter from how tight you became.

“Ah—fuck, don’t go giving out on me now. I know you have another one in you.” Dabi leaned down to your ear and continued to thrust into you, “Give me another, yeah?”

Even though his breath was warm, his words made your body shiver. You reluctantly nodded. You don’t even think you could stop him if you tried.

Your body was still recovering from your last orgasm, but Dabi paid no mind to that. He wanted to completely ruin you.

When he saw tears fall from your eyes, he knew he achieved his goal. You were hanging on by a mere string, clinging onto his forearms once more to help steady yourself.

Dabi was coming close to his high, and he so desperately didn’t want to leave your warm walls. His thrusts became erratic, his rhythm lost.

“Want it in me.” You mutter between moans. “Please.”

Your words broke something in him he didn’t think he had. It boosted him. With a final snap of his hips, he emptied his load into you. Filling you to the brim.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ perfect.”

Dabi collapsed beside you, his head cradled into your neck as he caught his breath. You closed your eyes and blacked out from being so tired.

The next time you opened your eyes, you were in his black T-Shirt and had a blanket draped over your body. Searching the room, you saw him in the kitchen in nothing but grey sweats. His dark hair was messy and you could see his muscles flex as he lifted a frying pan. When you saw a pancake flip, you shot upwards. Was it already the next day?

The noises of you shuffling on the couch caused him to look over. A smile formed on his face.

“Mornin’ princess.”

#dabi smut #mha dabi #mha smut #touya todoroki #smut #my hero academia #smoking #one shot #modern au #shoto todoroki

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silentscrying · 22 days ago

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🎸 out of my mind ! 💿 track four: a conflict of interest

guitarist!ino x drummer!reader

summary: it's the annual battle of the bands at the fix, your college campus's iconic live music bar, and this year you're taking the stage as the drummer for indie rock group cursed technique. you know the competition is strong, but no part of you is ready for lead singer and guitarist takuma ino. you lock eyes at the edge of the stage, and something starts—something that might make you feel alive even more than the beat of the drums.

warnings: language, MIDTERMS, alcohol, PTSD/trauma, panic attack, naoya, discussion of car crash (not directly described), mention of deceased parent, literal wholesome sleeping together. || sfw. 8.4k words.

YOU’VE ALWAYS LOVED fall—the sharp, cool note that tacks itself onto the breeze, the crunch of leaves beneath the wheels of your longboard, the early sunsets over the shapes of the campus skyline. Usually, a week this beautiful would find you outside enjoying it. But for the same reason that you haven’t gotten Takuma alone since Saturday, you’ve been cooped up indoors, frying your brain.

The problem is midterms.

The week is a blur of class and homework and reporting and rehearsals, and you hardly ever see Takuma, or really anyone outside of your classes and rehearsals, save for the brief comings and goings of your housemates at strange hours of the day. You’re all drowning in work, and any wish you have of talking to Takuma without the rest of his band present washes itself away in an avalanche of assignments and emails and post-it note to-do lists all over your desk.

When you see him with Megumi and Yuji and Kirara, the both of you dance around all the things you want to say. Because you have to. You don’t have time to flesh this out, put a label on it.

You and Toge spend hours wrapping up your project story. Your comp midterm is eight to nine double-spaced pages of hell, excluding citations, and on top of it you’re balancing media law case studies and your elective comparative lit class.

And this is one of your lighter semesters.

Your housemates don’t have it any easier, Yuta and Maki wrapped up in senior capstone proposals, Nobara grinding her way through the rest of her gen. eds and practicing marketing presentations in the mirror, even Toge scrambling to get work done.

Between cramming and writing and squeezing naps in wherever you can, you and Takuma orbit around the unspoken truth of your kiss on the roof, borderline flirty but never crossing that line. Not over the phone.

you: how goes the algorithming you: or whatever the fuck takuma: I’M DYING takuma: KM GOING CROSSEYED takuma: havent touched grass in days. eons even you: :( same you: we’ll touch grass when this is over takuma: if it snows i will literally dig it up for you istg

You laugh despite yourself, sighing as you lean back in your desk chair, looking out the window. God, you want to kiss this boy again. Fuck school, fuck your busy schedules. Christ, you can’t believe it’s only Wednesday.

you: aw for me takuma: anything for you🫡

It shouldn’t make you blush so furiously in the privacy of your own room, but it does.

A soft knock on the doorframe draws your attention, and you spin in your chair to find Yuta leaning there. His dark hair is a mess, like he’s just taken off a hat, and his cheeks are red with the bite of cold air. He must’ve just gotten home.

“Yuta!”

“Hey.” He grins, holds up his phone so you can see the time. “You eaten yet?” It’s a rhetorical question. You shake your head, recognizing the call to action for what it is, and close your laptop, joining him at the doorway. You need a break, anyway—you just wrapped up a draft of a paper, and you need to do something else before you look it over with fresh eyes.

“Wanna make stir fry?” you ask, and Yuta lights up.

“Read my mind.”

The kitchen is cast in gold as the sun sinks over the rooftops, and you smile at the little hello, my name is stickers on Yuta’s plants in the windowsill. As the two of you grab bowls and pans and ingredients from the fridge, you realize you haven’t really spent one-on-one time with him in a while. You’ve missed it.

“We haven’t done this in forever,” you say, tossing a green pepper over your shoulder. He catches it with one hand and puts it on the cutting board.

“I know,” he laughs, gentle in the same way that everything Yuta does is gentle, and you’re suddenly struck with the horrible thought of how much you’re going to miss him next year. “I feel like we haven’t had any one-on-one time recently. But I’ve been meaning to, uh… well, I should thank you, for giving me that time with Maki. I don’t know that I’d have made a move if not for you.”

“So you’re the one who made the move?” You grin, elbowing him fondly. “Maki wasn’t very forthcoming with the details.”

“I wouldn’t say I made the first move,” he admits. “I started making dinner, and then she started scribbling on something over by the plants. And I was so confused, and then I realized she’d bought these.” He gestures to the plant name tags, a fond smile on his face. Half the handwriting is Yuta’s loopy scrawl, and the other half is Maki’s more jagged counterpart. “She knew all their names. Which is crazy. Sometimes I barely remember.”

You move to the cutting board and start on the peppers while Yuta fires up the stovetop. “That’s sweet,” you say. “You guys are good together. I’ve only been waiting for like, an entire year.”

Yuta chuckles and looks over his shoulder at you. “I asked how she remembered all the names and she said something along the lines of did you know people actually listen when you talk, and I’ve never been particularly good at hiding my facial expressions.” You snort, because you know that better than anyone. “And then I said Toge definitely doesn’t, and she rolled her eyes and said I kept missing the point.”

“Oh, smooth.” You move over so Yuta can reach into the cabinet above you for the seasoning. “And then you asked what the point is?”

“Mhm.” Yuta hip-checks you lightly as he moves back to his place by the stove, and you relish the familiarity of it. He’s one of your best friends, and you’ve missed doing this with him, cooking with him, talking to him. “She said the point is I’m an oblivious dumbass who should just shut up and kiss her already. So I did.”

You have to put the knife down as your laugh bursts out, shaking your shoulders, because that’s the most Maki thing you’ve ever heard. “And you’re together now?”

“Mhm.” Yuta flushes a little. “She’s great. I wasn’t really gonna say anything… ever? She’s out of my league, Skip.”

It should maybe feel like a bigger deal that Maki and Yuta are finally a thing, but in a way, it’s like nothing has changed. They’ve always been close, and you’ve always known they’re perfect for each other. It felt inevitable, and now it’s happened, and it feels right.

“You’re both out of everyone’s league,” you correct, turning to lean against the counter, crossing your arms over your chest. “And neither of you think you deserve each other, which is exactly why you do.” He smiles, shy and small, and your heart warms in your chest. “I’m happy for you, Yuta.”

“Thanks.” He ducks his head a little, his tell-tale sign of embarrassment, like when Takuma scratches the back of his neck. God, why does everything remind you of Takuma?

Like he can read your mind, Yuta says, “Your turn. You and Ino? I know everyone’s in the loop except me.”

The next half hour or so passes with you explaining the details of your night with Takuma yet again, the smell of stir fry eventually drawing Toge out from the cave (his and Yuta’s bedroom) around the same time Nobara sweeps through the door with Maki in tow. It’s the first time the five of you have been in the same room outside of rehearsals all week.

“Ooh, my god,” Nobara sighs, smelling the stir fry. “That’s the good shit. I owe you my life.”

“You can do the dishes,” you suggest, and she deflates as she unwinds the scarf around her neck and tosses it on a hook with her coat.

“I’ve made a fatal mistake,” she says.

“How’re midterms?” Maki asks as she brushes past you, tossing her jacket onto a chair, and you shrug. In response, Toge puts his head face-down on the counter, and Maki looks to Yuta, waiting for his answer. It’s like they don’t know how they’re supposed to interact in front of you all, now that the whole band knows.

“You don’t have to dance around each other anymore,” Nobara points out, blunt as ever. “We’ve watched you do that for years. I honestly think I’d rather watch you be gross.”

Toge raises a brow. “Careful what you wish for.”

“Let’s break the ice! Let’s talk about it!” Nobara crows, grabbing you by the elbow. “Reenactment, Skip. You be Yuta.” She leans dramatically over the plants, pretending to write on the name tag stickers. “This one is Pikachu.” Yuta definitely does not have a plant named Pikachu. “You’re an obtuse asshole, Yuta Okkotsu,” Nobara says in a truly horrendous impression of Maki, turning around and grabbing you by the shoulders. “Now kiss me.”

“Oh my god,” Maki says flatly. “I hate you.”

“She didn’t call me an asshole!” Yuta says indignantly.

Maki nudges him with a shoulder, which is probably the closest thing to PDA you’ll get out of them for weeks. Nobara’s teasing will only make them less willing to show affection in front of the rest of you. Maybe it’s reverse psychology and that is what she wants.

“Table,” Yuta says, pointing to Toge. “Nobara, go sit in the corner and think about your actions. Maki, could you grab the plates?”

“Girlfriend privilege!” Nobara cries, not making any move to listen to Yuta. She grins at you and you can’t help but smile back. She’s being obnoxious about it, but she also held in her teasing about their relationship for ages until they figured it out on their own. You know she’s just as happy for them as you are.

“You better keep Ino away from this one,” Maki says as she dishes up the stir fry and slides the plates across the counter to Toge, who ferries them over to the table without complaint. Nobara wiggles her brows at you in a way that very obviously says you can try, but you will fail.

When the five of you crowd the little table in the makeshift dining room, it’s honestly the most relaxed you’ve felt all week. For an hour it’s just you and your best friends, talking and ranting and joking and eating some damn good stir fry, and you can forget about all the work piling up on your desk and the boy down the street you desperately need to talk to and the performance in two days that’ll decide your band’s fate. It’s good.

You grin at Nobara as she gestures with her hands while telling a story about this girl in her marketing class, at Toge trying and failing to steal the snap peas from Yuta’s plate, at Maki fondly watching it all unfold.

Despite her earlier complaints, Nobara doesn’t hesitate to get started on the dishes, and Toge dries while you sit at the stool by the counter and chat with them. Nobara shoves a plate at Toge to try and he nearly drops it onto one of the plants, earning him a look from Yuta very reminiscent of a parent scolding their child.

"Sorry, Snorlax," Toge says to the plant he nearly attacked. "Hey, these are helpful, actually. Good job, Maki."

You stare at the name tags, something starting to grow in the back of your mind. Hello! My name is...

"Yes," you breathe. And then you launch out of your seat and grab your notebook from the other room.

You have an idea.

—

You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, spinning a drumstick in your right hand as The Cull wraps up their ten-decibels-too-loud set onstage. Waiting in the wings, Hakari and another stage tech linger by your kit, waiting to swap it out, and the rest of your band goes through their usual pre-performance rituals.

Maki leans against the wall, eyes closed, moving her fingers along her bass without making any sound. Yuta’s quietly checking his tuning for the thousandth time tonight. Nobara does laps around the backstage area, humming and mouthing words to herself, her guitar carefully leaning against the wall beside you.

Toge is straight up just dancing to the other band’s music in the corner.

And you’re here, spinning your sticks between your thumb and index finger, index and middle, middle and ring, ring and pinky, back again. Back and forth, back and forth, the worn wood dancing across your knuckles.

Midterms are over. Projects and papers are turned in, exams are taken, laptops are strewn forgotten across the living room for the weekend. All your attention is here and now, Friday at The Fix, Battle of the Bands. Lifeblood might be a good word for it, you think, whatever this kind of rush is to you. It’s electric.

The Cull finishes with a screeching of guitars and a held-out note that could very possibly be classified as a scream, and then Panda takes the stage, the techs start moving, and the other band files past you in the backstage area.

You nod as they slip by and they return the gesture, not seeming all that interested, but you don’t care. It’s time.

Sliding onto the throne, you adjust the hi-hat and pound the kick a few times. Nobara winks at you from center stage, and you make eye contact with each of your bandmates in turn, confirming they’re tuned and plugged in and ready to go.

And then you launch into your new song, unable to help the smile spreading across your face.

It begins with a drum solo, a mild rhythm on the floor tom. You add the kick, then move to hat, and Maki comes in, then Toge, then the guitars. And then Nobara leans forward and starts to sing.

“You’re in the corner watchin’, at the party, Solo cup in hand. I’m on the dance floor, one more wild girl who needs a place to land.” You glance out over the crowd, stage light blinding you from your position toward the back of the stage. You can’t see shit, but it’s like you can feel his eyes on you.

“Been goin’ solo, flying so low, meet your eyes and draw you close.” Nobara yanks the mic off the stand and belts,“You ask my name, I tap your chest, and I say you already know!”

Power chord, two big beats, one, two, three, crash—

“Hello, my name is everything you ever asked your gods about. Hello, my name is somebody who needs a guy to take me out…”

The music washes over you, thrums from the soles of your sneakers to the tips of your fingers, gets you high on spotlights and amp feedback. You wrote this song about a lot of things. On a surface level, it’s Maki and Yuta’s song, drawn from the name tags on the kitchen plants. But on another level, it’s about Takuma, and you know your whole band knows it.

“Hello, hello, my name is yours if you want it,” Nobara finishes, and you finish with two cymbal hits and a kick, grabbing the cymbals between thumb and index finger immediately after to mute them. It’s a sharper finish than a lot of your songs, punchier, and it feels good.

“We’re Cursed Technique!” Nobara shouts, and Yuta plucks a few strings as he retunes for one of your older tracks. The set goes by all too fast, and then you’re finishing with Next Fix, the beat under your hands familiar and automatic. You’re on my mind at two a.m., you help me find deliverance, I think it’s time I get my fix.

You’d stay here forever if you could, just making music with your favorite people, but your set ends and you have to retreat backstage, Black Flash passing you in the wing as they prepare to round out the night.

“That was awesome,” Kasumi Miwa whispers as she passes you, and you grin.

“You’ll be awesome.”

When Mai appears around the corner, she stops short. You glance at Maki and realize Yuta’s hand is on the small of her back, and Mai has zeroed in on it. Yuta looks like he’s about to pass out, his hand frozen a half-inch away from Maki’s back like he doesn’t know if it’s better or worse to let go, but Maki seems entirely unfazed.

Instead of addressing Maki, though, Mai looks right at Yuta, a slender brow raised in an expression you aren’t quite sure how to interpret. On Maki, it would be teasing, but on Mai it could be a challenge or a threat or a judgment just as easily.

But she only says, “Thought you were gonna take that to your grave, Okkotsu. Been long enough.” She breezes past all of you without another word, and Yuta stares at the place where she stood only moments before, slack-jawed.

Maki shrugs. “Well, that’s that.” The sound of tuning instruments floats back from the stage and Maki starts moving, looking confused when Yuta doesn’t immediately follow. “What?”

“She—what?” Yuta gapes, and Nobara and Toge catch up to you, herding you backstage.

“I can never tell how mad you two are at each other,” you tell Maki.

“We’re bonded by mutual hatred of our own family. We have an understanding,” she shrugs. “She approves of Yuta. I don’t give a shit. If she didn’t, I still wouldn’t give a shit.”

Sometimes you’re very, very glad you have no relatives at this school.

Maki elbows Yuta lightly and he seems to relax, shrugging off the interaction with Mai.

“On another note!” Nobara chirps. “That was fucking awesome.”

And then you hear, of all things, a trumpet coming from the direction of the stage. It’s a very recognizable riff.

Black Flash is covering September.

“What the fuck?” Toge asks. He holds up a hand and darts back to the wing, peeking out on stage. When he returns, his brows have shot up, mouth open like a fish. “Muta has a trumpet. Muta’s playing a trumpet. Since when does he know trumpet? What the fuck?”

“Miwa. Guaranteed,” Nobara says. “Momo’s been trying to get him to learn for years, but he wouldn’t even be in that band if Miwa wasn’t there.” She grins. “I bet Momo was so mad when he finally did it only ‘cause Miwa asked.”

“They sound straight out of a damn recording,” you murmur, craning your neck as if that’ll help you hear better. “They’re fucking good, guys.” Part of you wants to slip out into the crowd just to see them perform. These guys really have their art down to a science, as little sense as that might make, and you can’t help appreciating it.

They segue into a new song with a wild sax solo that you know to be Momo’s, and Nobara grabs you by the hand and twirls you around backstage, some jazzy movement with no real choreography. We’re going to lose, you think idly, but you understand why. There’s something infectious in this music.

Even Maki and Yuta can’t stand still once they’ve put their instruments away, and eventually the five of you are jumping around like a bunch of idiots as Black Flash closes out their set with an explosive series of riffs and chords, and the crowd’s cheering floods the place, all the way to backstage.

You hear Panda’s voice, or more so the bass-heavy sound of him speaking into a microphone, and you only really catch voting.

“Sweet democracy,” Toge says. “I pledge allegiance—”

“How about don’t?” Maki drawls.

Toge nods. “My bad. I’m supposed to be loyal to the queen now, anyway.” Maki’s brows furrow, but she must decide it’s not worth questioning, because she turns away and starts talking to Nobara.

Has anyone actually told Toge the queen is dead?

This time around, ten minutes feels all too short, and suddenly you’re on the stage again, Black Flash at your left and The Cull on their other side. Panda is in front of you all, mic in hand, the results on his phone.

“We have literally never had a vote this close,” he says, and the crowd draws in a collective breath. “The difference between first and second place was two votes.”

“Shit,” Nobara breathes out beside you, so soft nobody else could possibly hear. Two votes. That’s fucking insane.

“But we do have a winner,” Panda says, “and the band moving on to the finals next week is…”

This time, there’s too much attention on your band for Maki to make a comment about Panda’s dramatic pause. In the quiet, somebody shouts, “Woo, girl drummer!” and it sounds an awful lot like Kirara. You smile sheepishly.

Maybe you made it. This was definitely your best performance yet, and the crowd seemed to love the new song—

“Black Flash!” Panda shouts, and your stomach twists a little even as you smile and whoop for the winners. The stage explodes in movement as your band and The Cull converge on the members of the reigning Battle of the Bands champions, congratulating them.

“Amazing set,” you tell Kasumi earnestly. Deep down, you knew you didn’t have much of a chance against them. Still, you’d hoped.

You think you catch Maki muttering, “Y’know, not bad,” to Mai, but you could be wrong.

After you slip backstage, Panda catches up to you. “Y’all were second,” he tells Nobara. “Just thought you should know. That was real close.”

Part of you is immensely gratified that you beat The Cull. That you came that close to kicking Black Flash out of their championship spot. You’re bummed, but honestly? It’s enough for you.

And now Shibuya Incident and Black Flash will compete in the finals, just like last year. Takuma’s got a chance to dethrone them.

After locking up the drum kit in the back storage room (which Shoko blessedly lets you use free of charge), you head out to the floor. Toge splits off to talk to someone from a comm class, Nobara beelines for Yuji and Megumi, and you figure Maki and Yuta are being antisocial in a corner somewhere. It doesn’t take long for Takuma to find you.

“Skipper!” You turn to find him grinning at you, and you can’t help but mirror the expression. “That was amazing. That song was amazing, you were amazing. I mean, are. You are amazing.” His hand drifts up to the back of his neck, and part of you wants to reach out an intercept it, tangle your fingers in his. But you hold yourself back.

“Thanks,” you beam.

“Man. You should’ve won,” Takuma says earnestly, squeezing your shoulder. You took off your bomber jacket before the show—drumming is already a lot of movement, but the stage lights make you sweat—so his fingers skim the place where your T-shirt sleeves end and your bare skin begins, sending a spike of electricity down your spine. “You kicked their asses in my book.”

There’s that warmth again, flowering in your chest cavity. Even when his hand falls from your arm, the impression of his touch stays there.

“They were good,” you say, conceding defeat. He shrugs, like whatever you say, and you’re about to finally ask him if you can talk in private when Yuji materializes out of nowhere, nearly making you jump out of your skin.

“Dude!” he crows, slinging an arm around your shoulder so aggressively that you nearly stumble, laughing. This kid does not know his own strength. “That was so good. So good. You should’ve won. That was insane. The new song?”

“That’s what I said,” Takuma says, raising a brow at you, and you’re flushing again.

“Ino, we’re getting Taco Bell,” Yuji says. You plaster on a smile when he turns to look at you, like you haven’t been going out of your mind the entire week needing to be alone with Takuma. “You want anything?”

Yuji’s not trying to interrupt anything. Poor guy just wants Taco Bell. You stifle a sigh. “Nah, I’m good.” You catch Maki’s eye from the other side of the room, and she waves you over. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Hey, you should come over later,” Takuma says before you can turn away. “Gotta catch me up on your midterms. I feel like I haven’t seen you all week.”

Yes. There it is. Exactly what you need.

“That sounds great,” you say honestly. “Call me when you guys get back?”

He gives you a two-fingered salute with a grin that makes your heart stutter a little. “Yes, ma’am.”

—

Nobara mourns the loss the whole way home, but by the time Maki pulls into the driveway she seems to have gotten all her feelings out and is back to her determined we’ll-get-it-next-year self. The guys drove separately with all the guitars piled in the backseat, and they beat you home.

You’ve just sat down on the couch and kicked off your shoes when your phone buzzes, a familiar but unexpected name floating across the screen.

INCOMING CALL: TSUMIKI FUSHIGURO

You slide to accept the call, waving at the boys to quiet down. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” Tsumiki says, in that tone of voice that means she’s running on multitasking business mode. A low, static humming in the background tells you she’s calling from the car. “So, there was some kind of accident on 34th a couple blocks down from the science complex. I know you’re on features, but Yuki’s out of town and most of the freelancers are younger and haven’t done breaking yet. Are you busy? I can try the sophomores if you can’t, or I can go, but I’m just coming from work and I might take too long—”

You’re already grabbing your bag and your board, mouthing newspaper to Yuta and Toge, who are giving you curious looks as they dig through the movie collection under the TV. The intersection’s not far from your place at all, or from The Fix, for that matter. Yuki’s the news editor, and if she’s out, it makes more sense for someone who’s already done breaking to go. Time is of the essence with these sorts of briefs. “On it, don’t worry,” you say, pushing out the front door and waving to Maki and Nobara on the way. “Photog?”

“Yeah, I’m calling around after this. I’ll get someone there. God, thank you, you’re a lifesaver.”

“No problem. Call you when I’m done.” You hang up and shove your phone into your back pocket as you careen down the street, headed toward the spot Tsumiki mentioned. Now that midterms are over and you’re free of your academic obligations, you can actually take the time to savor the cool night air and crunch of freshly fallen leaves under your wheels. Hopefully the crash isn’t too bad—Tsumiki didn’t seem incredibly worried, but it’s likely she was operating on very little information.

It doesn’t take long for you to hear the commotion, and you round the corner to see a few cop cars blocking off the crash site on the side of the road.

The second you’re close enough to see past the officers and their cars, your heart plummets.

It’s a red Hyundai.

Smoke billows out from beneath the hood, but the other car’s got it worse, the passenger side smashed in. The way it’s positioned—it shouldn’t have even been possible, unless the other car was genuinely driving in the wrong lane.

“No,” you breathe, kicking your board up and running, and then you’re flashing your press card at a campus policeman—he tries to get you to stop anyway, but there’s no way he’s catching you now—and you’re sprinting to the wrecked car, heart shouting in your chest. You see Yuji first, trying to brush off a concerned-looking Megumi, and then a pair of cops approaching them, and another cop arresting someone—shit, you know him, what’s his name? Naoya, that’s Maki’s dickwad cousin—probably the driver of the other vehicle, but where’s Takuma, where—

When you skid around the far side of the car, Kirara giving you a surprised look, you see him leaning up against the tree. He’s sitting on the grass, one leg pulled up to his chest and the other stretched out in front of him, his forehead resting on his knee. His shoulders are shaking, his hat’s on the ground, Kirara is beside him talking lowly and glaring at anyone who tries to get near him—

Until she sees you.

“Thank god,” she breathes. She doesn’t ask why you’re here. She just guides you to sit down in front of Takuma. “Can you—”

“Is he hurt?”

“No, I don’t think so, he’s just—”

“Got it.”

She backs off to give you space, and then you’re on the ground, knees in the grass in front of Takuma. Panic attack, PTSD episode, whatever it is, you’ve dealt with these before. You remember the roof, his quiet voice, explaining what happened to his dad, how he was in the car, how he hates driving because of it. You’d bet anything Takuma thinks he’s back there.

“Kuma,” the nickname slips out before you even realize it. He jerks and looks up at you, shock and confusion written all over his face. He’s full-on trembling, and your heart shatters in your chest. “Hey. Hey, I need you to breathe.” You hesitantly reach out and take his hands in yours, watching him carefully to see if he tries to pull away. He doesn’t. “You’re okay. Everyone’s okay. You’re safe. Can you take a breath for me?”

He’s not fully here, you can tell, his eyes glassed over and his breath catching in his throat. You scoot closer to him, put your hands on either side of his face, blocking out the sirens and the chatter and the crowd. “Takuma,” you say. “Look at me.”

His frantic, moving stare settles on you after a long moment, and he seems to realize abruptly that he is having a panic attack. You can see the moment it clicks in his mind, that if he was twelve years old in a car crash with his father, you couldn’t be here in front of him, and now it’s up to his body to get the message across.

“Breathe,” you say again, drawing in an exaggerated breath and blowing it out slowly. “C’mon, with me. You got this.”

Takuma gasps, trying to follow your instructions as you talk him through it, counting inhales and exhales and starting over every time his breath hitches. “Doing great,” you promise. The rest of the world—the cops, a very angry Megumi pacing back and forth, Kirara speaking rapidly on the phone—might as well not exist. It’s you and Takuma and your breaths in the air between you. Nothing else matters, not right now.

All of the struggles you’ve had this week, papers and feelings and not enough sleep, feel suddenly unbelievably small.

There are things that matter in a much louder way, and this is one of them.

“Christ,” Takuma breathes out eventually, burying his head in his hands. One of the cop cars erupts with the blare of sirens momentarily before stopping again, and the sound has his shoulders tense with worry all over again.

You don’t even think about it. You just pull Takuma into you, wrapping your arms around him, like you can put the both of you in a little bubble away from everything else. “Hey, hey—”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and you furiously shake your head. “Just—the sirens—“

“No,” you say firmly. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Takuma.”

He shudders and you rub your hand up and down his spine. “Is the other driver…?”

“A stupid fucking drunk driving in the wrong lane?” Kirara practically spits as she rejoins you near the tree. “Yes.” The cop just took her statement and has moved on to Megumi and Yuji.

You’ve never seen Megumi this livid. He’s gesturing wildly at the other car, and you remember idly that Naoya’s his cousin too, that this is a little personal for him.

“Yeah, but is he…?” Takuma trails off.

“He’s fine,” you murmur, your heart clenching for this boy, who’s been through so much and just relived the worst day of his life and still wanted to know if the other driver was okay. Jesus. He’s too good. “Everyone’s okay.”

You pull back to hold him at arm’s length, scanning him up and down for injury, and he’s staring at you like you just fell from the sky. “Skip—I’m really glad you’re here but—why? What are you…?” His voice is a little hoarse. His gaze trails down to the press pass hanging from your neck, and he cracks a wry smile. “Y’know, when I told you write a story on me, this isn’t really what I had in mind.”

So much relief floods you at once that you think you might actually start crying. “Jesus,” you croak out, and the smile drops from his face.

“I’m okay,” he says quickly. “Just—got the wind knocked out of me, but it’s fine. Skipper—”

You lurch forward and wrap your arms around him before he can finish, needing to feel him breathing, his heart beating. You also hear his breath hitch as he winces, and you pull back in alarm. “Shit, I’m sorry, what—”

“It’s okay,” he says. “Just sore. I’m fine. Really.” He leans back against the tree. “Airbags.”

You slump back against the tree too, deflated as the limp airbags in the ruined car. “You guys okay?” you ask as the others, done with their statements, turn toward you.

“Yeah,” Kirara says, but Megumi shakes his head and points to Yuji, who’s nodding even while cradling his wrist to his chest.

“It’s fine,” Yuji insists, and Megumi looks at him, incredibly unimpressed. “Well, it’s not broken, I can move it.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s okay,” Megumi says flatly. And you look at him, his expression so familiar, and abruptly realize you’re supposed to be writing a brief.

“Shit,” you mutter, pulling out your phone. “I’m working for your sister right now. I gotta…” You point to the phone. Megumi winces but nods, and Tsumiki picks up on the first ring.

“Hey! Done already? You find Yoshino okay? He said he—”

“Uh, no,” you say sheepishly. “Actually, I—uh, okay, everyone’s fine, but Megumi’s here. If I—”

“Slow down!” Tsumiki blurts. “What? Shit. Frick. Where’s Gumi? Can you put him on the phone?”

You wordlessly hand your phone to Megumi, who’s looking more pained at the concept of talking to his sister about this than the accident itself.

A few cars pull up—a white one screeching to a stop that really should not have been going so fast in front of a bunch of police officers, and then a darker gray one that arrives smoothly after, neatly pulling up against the curb. Gojo practically launches himself out of the first car, looking around until his gaze locks on Megumi, who hangs up the phone with a quiet okay, thanks and then immediately groans upon seeing Gojo there. Nanami and Shoko get out of the second car much less dramatically and trail after Gojo to the cluster of you by the tree.

“Megumi!” Gojo calls as he jogs over. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Megumi grumbles, trying and failing to brush Gojo off. “Where’d you come from? Don’t you have work?”

“Geto and Utahime are closing down,” Gojo says with a shrug. “We heard and came as fast as we could. Figured I’d bring our resident doc. Or Nanami would, since she wouldn’t ride with me,” he says loudly so Shoko can hear. She just rolls her eyes.

Megumi tosses you your phone and says, “Forget the brief, you’re good.” You nod, pushing to your feet and offering a hand to Takuma.

“We,” Gojo says, placing one hand on Megumi’s head and the other on Yuji’s, “are going to the ER.” You expect Megumi to object, but it’s Yuji who tries to wave Gojo off. Except he tries to physically wave him off with his bad wrist and immediately grimaces. Megumi swats him on the shoulder and gives him a serious look that says we’re going, don’t argue. You figure Tsumiki will probably meet them there.

Shoko stops to talk to Kirara a short distance away, and Nanami keeps walking, making a beeline for Takuma—and by extension, you. It doesn’t escape your notice that the second he’s within range, some of the tension in Takuma’s body seems to vanish, seeping out of him and into the grass, like the tree’s roots are taking it on for him.

Nanami’s usually immaculate hair is a little disheveled, like he ran his fingers through it. Without his usual glasses on, he looks a lot less daunting, a lot more personable. The worry in his expression is well concealed but very much present.

“Ino,” he says. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Takuma says unconvincingly. “Fine. Just—yeah. Drunk driver, you know…” He scratches at the back of his neck, and this time you don’t check yourself. You reach up and grab his hand, slotting your fingers between his. He shoots you a grateful look before turning back to Nanami. “I’m okay. Really. Thanks for… um…”

“Of course,” Nanami says before Takuma can say anything more. You release his hand so he can step forward. You’ve never seen Nanami hug anyone before, but apparently there’s a first time for everything.

“You’re not going with Gojo?” he asks when he pulls back, hands planted on Takuma’s shoulders. It feels very paternal. You’re not sure you should be listening in.

“Nah, I’m okay.”

“I’d feel a lot better if you got checked over,” he says, his voice firm but not unkind. “Would you let Shoko look at you, at least?” You’re relieved when Takuma nods, letting Shoko pull him away.

Gojo leads Yuji and Megumi past you, back to his car, and Yuji stops to whisper, “Never fear, Skip, the drum set was not in the car.”

“Oh my god,” you say. “Yuji. I’m more worried about you than the drums.”

“Aw, Skip!” he says happily. “That’s nice.” You roll your eyes but can’t keep the fond smile off your face, and you know Megumi’s probably doing the same thing, though you can only see the back of his head as he follows Gojo. Yuji bounds off after them, still cradling his wrist to his chest but seeming very unconcerned about the whole ordeal.

Yet another screech of tires alerts you to a truck appearing from the other end of the street. Hakari doesn’t even bother to shut it off, jumping out and leaving the door hanging open.

“Kira!” he shouts, pushing past the remaining officers. “Kirara!”

“Over here!” Kirara calls, thanking Shoko and weaving around the slowly diminishing crowd. Someone’s already showed up to tow Naoya’s car, and another truck probably isn’t far behind. Kirara gets swept up in Hakari’s arms, her trying to reassure him she’s fine, and you find yourself left alone with Nanami. He studies you openly, keen eyes and a calm, very slight smile on his face.

“I don’t think we’ve met, officially,” you say sheepishly. “I’m Skipper.”

“Kento,” he says, holding out a hand. You shake it and feel abruptly like you’re talking to a business executive. As Shoko looks Takuma over on the other side of the big tree, Nanami—Kento—lowers his voice a bit and says, “Ino’s told me all about you.”

The heat rises unbidden to your cheeks, and you hope the evening dimness hides it. He talks about you? To Nanami? You aren’t really sure how to respond to that, but luckily, Kento spares you the trouble. “Look out for him tonight, will you?” You can tell from the tone that he’s testing the waters, trying to determine how much you know about his dad.

Hopefully the message gets across when your gaze drifts back to Takuma over Kento’s shoulder and you say, “I plan on it.”

“He’s alright,” Shoko announces, and Takuma appears at your side again. “Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix.” Something loosens in your chest at the words, something that tied itself into knots the second you saw Yuji’s car and hasn’t let up since.

“Hey,” Hakari calls, he and Kirara approaching hand in hand. “You guys good?”

Takuma nods, and you shrug. “Wasn’t in the car.”

“We’re gonna head back to Kirara’s. You want a lift?”

Takuma glances at Kento, and you feel the truth of his words that day on the roof, about Nanami being the closest thing he has to a father.

“Go home, kid,” he says. “Sleep it off. Call me if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” Takuma says, like a breath of relief. He looks exhausted. But he’s here in one piece, and that’s what matters. Your fingers brush his as you walk back to Hakari’s truck. It’s a quiet ride, a short one, your board on your lap and your press pass still dangling from your neck.

“Oh, Skipper,” Hakari says when he turns onto your street. “Your house over here? Or are you coming to theirs?”

You glance at Takuma, but before either of you can say anything, Kirara says, “She’s comin’ over.” She catches your gaze in the rearview mirror with a knowing look and you manage a weak smile. You can’t imagine letting Takuma out of your sight right now, honestly.

The dogs are there the second Kirara opens the door, and Takuma practically falls into them, burying his face in their fur as they nuzzle up against him. Shiro turns to you after saying hi to the others and noses at your palm until you scratch her behind the ears.

“Hi, sweetie,” you murmur. “Good girl.”

Kirara nudges you with her shoulder as she brushes by, glancing down at Takuma and then back at you. You nod. I got him. She offers you a small smile before she and Hakari disappear around the corner.

“C’mon,” you murmur, tapping Takuma on the shoulder. He nods, pushing to his feet and patting each dog on the head one more time. You follow him upstairs, feeling a little out of your depth. After all, he’s not the one who decided you were staying.

When you’re both standing in his room, you shift on your feet a little, wondering how to word it. “If you want some space—”

“No,” he blurts, unexpectedly loud, and then his cheeks go a little red, sheepish. “I mean—uh. I could… use the company. If you don’t mind. You don’t have to stay, obviously, just—”

“Kuma.” You laugh a little, watching him freeze, glance up at you mid-ramble. “I would love to stay.”

“Oh.” He grins. “Cool. Okay. Um.” He turns around and grabs a pair of sweats and a tee from his dresser, then holds them out to you. “If you want…? Or I can ask Kirara, I’m sure she’d let you borrow something, or obviously you live right down the street or—”

Something about the idea of wearing his clothes makes you go a little warm all over, and you accept them without hesitating, cutting off his rambling. “Thanks.”

“I’m gonna…” He jerks his thumb toward the door. You don’t know if he’s just giving you the space to change or going to shower or what, but you nod, waiting until the door clicks shut behind him to tug on the sweats and shirt. The shirt is huge on you, one shoulder sliding off, a fading logo of some music festival on the front. You sit on the edge of Takuma’s bed, tucking your knees under you, and then your phone rings. Tsumiki.

“Hey,” you say, pressing it to your ear. “They’re okay?”

“Yeah, Yuji sprained his wrist but nothing else. Pretty minor, all things considered,” she reports. “They’re on their way back to the house.”

“Good,” you breathe, the relief evident in your voice. “Thanks. Do you… are you sure about the brief?”

Tsumiki chuckles. “Hey, not your job to worry about the press tonight.”

“I can still try to… write it,” you say half-heartedly, dreading the thought of it. “I mean, I saw the scene and…”

“Don’t even worry about it. Genuinely,” she says. “You and I both know that’s a conflict of interest.” You huff a weak laugh. What an understatement. “More importantly, you sound exhausted and I’m sure that whole thing stressed you out. Listen, the photog I had on it wanted to break into writing anyway. No time like the present.”

You immediately feel even worse, because your photographer was probably looking for you at the scene and you just left him hanging.

“Stop,” Tsumiki says, like she can read your mind through the phone. “He handled it well. It’s fine, Skipper. Get some rest.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, but she’s already gone. You shoot a quick text to the group chat explaining what happened, that everyone’s fine, and that you probably won’t be home tonight. Takuma doesn’t want to be alone, and honestly, you don’t know if you could leave him if you tried.

It doesn’t take long for the texts to start pouring in.

utah: let us know if any of you need anything!! maki: keep us posted and tell megumi to answer his dumb phone nobara: WHAT nobara: OH MY GOD???? nobara: well i’m glad everyone’s okay nobara: christ freak no. 1: alsjkfq qEQht

You frown at the keysmash, wondering if Toge dropped his phone or actually just doesn’t know how to communicate like a normal person.

you: ??? freak no. 1: sorry SOMEONE TOOK MY PHONE,,,, utah: because SOMEONE DOESN’T KNOW WHEN IT’S AN APPROPRIATE TIME TO SEND MEMES, TOGE maki: nvm he picked up maki: go to sleep, skipper, we can talk tomorrow

Toge texts you privately thirty seconds later. It’s the meme of Gru laying out his evil plan and then realizing it’s a horrible idea. The first frame says answer the phone, the second says get the breaking news like a baddie journalist, and the last frames say realize you know everyone at the scene of the crime. You laugh out loud. Toge knows you. He knows you needed this. He wouldn’t have sent it if he didn’t think it’d cheer you up.

A half-second later, another image comes in, but it’s just a picture of Nobara with her hands clasped together in front of her mouth, speechless and absolutely thrilled. The full image shows her swooning over a little puppy, but you long ago cropped it and started using it as a reaction image in your chats.

freak no. 1: me when ur okay :)

“Aw,” you murmur. Toge can be sweet sometimes. You start texting back, but then another message comes in and you backspace immediately.

freak no. 1: me when ur spending the night with your boyfie :) you: i was gonna say thanks but then you kept going freak no. 1: me when she texts back :) you: goodnIGHT TOGE freak no. 1: me when she goodnight texts :)

Takuma knocks softly on the door before cracking it open, waiting for you to give him the green light before coming in. He’s changed into his own pair of sweats, and his hair is ruffled and wild around his face. “Hey.”

“Hi.” You toss your phone on the bedside table and scoot over to make room. “You okay?”

He sits cross-legged on the bed, and you turn to face him. “Think so,” he says. “Just… felt like I was back there for a minute.” His eyes go distant just for a moment, and your heart twists in your chest. You scoot forward, knees bumping against his.

“Glad you’re okay,” you murmur, and it doesn’t feel like enough, but he gives you that soft, open look that makes you feel like you could say anything at all and he’d treasure it.

“Glad it was you and not some rando reporter.”

You grin, holding a fist out to Takuma like it’s a microphone. “How do you rate Skipper’s hug on a scale of one to ten?”

He leans forward, playing along. “Uh, you know, it was so long ago I might not have a really accurate rating. I would have to probably hug her again—”

You don’t let him finish, surging forward and wrapping your arms around him, tackling him down onto the bed in a fit of laughter. Caught off-guard, he has no defense, and after a startled moment his arms snake around your waist, and you lie there, looking at each other with barely-restrained grins.

“Well, that one was pretty good,” he murmurs. “Nine, I think.”

You gape at him. “Nine?”

Another smile dances across his lips, and you suddenly really want to kiss him.

“Guess you’ll just have to keep trying.” He shrugs innocently, and then tries and fails to stifle a yawn, which makes you yawn in turn. It’s late, night having draped itself over the city hours ago, and the effects of barely snatching hours of sleep all week are finally creeping up on you, weighing you down.

“Go to sleep,” you tell Takuma, grabbing a blanket from where it’s been wedged between the bed and the wall and shoving it toward him.

“You go to sleep.”

“Bossy.”

But he shakes the blanket out and lets it fall over both of you, trapping your warmth beneath it, and sleep feels very, very appealing.

You think about the paralyzing, all-consuming fear that took hold of you when you saw the car. The thought of anything happening to him—you actually can’t even fathom it. And you think about what that means, and that you’ve only known this boy for a month, but you feel like your heart beats on the same channel as his.

Geto’s words play themselves over and over in your head, Maki’s mixing themselves in until you have a chorus of phrases bouncing around like pinballs.

Your heart is not a finite thing.

You already know.

The question isn’t if he likes you, or if you like him. It’s whether you’re gonna let it play out or shut it down before it has a chance to.

If you’ve got something, love it while you have it.

Geto was right. You don’t know how long you’ll have this for, have him for. But you better make the most of it while you do.

But Takuma’s eyes are already closing, his arm slung over your waist, seeking your warmth, your comfort. He looks exhausted, shaken. These aren’t conversations for tonight. Tonight, you just hold him, and feel his breath against your neck, and revel in the fact that he’s okay.

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a/n: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, TEAM. i've fallen into another anime hyperfixation (blue lock) and it's killing me slowly. one part left of this fic !!

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