#Unspoken changed my life thank you very much
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She's NOT going to heaven
She is CLEARLY joking guys, I just found the comment @crowneprince left under The Forever fiances comic funny because when I tell you my girl Willow is NOT seeing the pearly gates (But yeah they would get married there)
Okay but In a more serious way, both of them are flawed characters and not perfect parents of course I just want to show you their good parts before showing you their complicated personalities, they are very different trolls and of course have made a lot of mistakes while rising brozone (I mean look at Jd)
#Unspoken changed my life thank you very much#dreamworks trolls#branch trolls#rbbtrolls#trolls comic#roots b4 branches trolls#trolls band together#trolls au#rose willow trolls#Rowan basil trolls#rootsb4branches au#rillow trolls#roots b4 branches#trolls roots before branches au#baby branch#trolls bruce#bruce trolls#brozone parents#trolls brozone
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LOVER'S QUARREL
- fushiguro megumi x reader
âi can't do this anymore.â you and megumi are just too different; he's stoic, you're bubbly, he prefers solitude, you love being social. it starts with fights, words you don't mean, and ends with an event that would haunt him for a long time to come.
genre/warnings: angst, breaking up, post-breakup feelings, mentions and description of injury and blood, hurt/comfort, fluff in the end (you make up!)
note: dear god iâm finally getting this out of my drafts. loosely inspired by real life events iâve seen around my friendâs relationship sooo it might hurt a bit đ€đ» but who can say no to angst to eventual fluff? tagging @lees-chaotic-brain and @kasumitenbaz (as per request in the ask!), you two are always here for my megumi works, thank you!! :3 and thank you for dropping by for the event!
a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT
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Everyone pointed it out as a joke, that you liked him way more than he did you.
And you used to never let it ruffle you. To you, Megumiâs sternness and silence meant that he was comfortable with you. You never wanted him to change his ways just because now you were seeing each other.
But when you thought it over now, as you stood before him with an aghast expression and knives stabbing your kind, soft heart, you couldnât help but do a double-take.
You were the one who confessed first. Most of the time, you were the one who initiated dates. You always texted him first, asking about his day, and even when he brushed you off, you would keep being this ball of sunshine and wished him a good day.
You never realized it before⊠that through everything, it has always been you. Unfailingly.
So how dare he spout this now?
âI can't do this anymore.â
"You... can't?" you spat out, feeling the first tendrils of anger course through you. "What exactly it is that you can't do? What do you even mean?"
"Look," Megumi stared at you squarely, and you thought now, that it was the coldest of eyes, straight and true. "It's always been like this between us lately. It's only right that we end this."
This, he said. He didn't even want to define your relationship anymore.
You scoffed. "And why do you think we always end up this way? Have you ever considered, even once, that it's because you make no effort at all?"
"I'm trying," Megumi quickly replied, almost in a hiss, and you almost recoiled. "But I just see that we'll end up nowhere, that's why I'm bringing this up now."
Oh, that freaking hurts. You boyfriend had just told you that this relationship would go nowhere. Right in your face.
Your eyes stung with tears, yet you fought to hold them back, fixing your gaze on the lamp overhead and inhaling deeply.
"You're... selfish," you stated, filled with ire. "You're always walking around eggshells around me, never telling me what is it that you really wantâ"
Megumi's unclouded eyes fixed on your trembling form. "We just disagree on a lot of things. You know it and it bothers you. It bothers me too. Rather than forcing our relationship, I think it's betterâ"
"It's always me!" you yelled then, lips quivering and eyes watering, unable to hold your emotions back any longer. "All dates, lunchesâeverything!" you locked your eyes with him, in mocking disbelief. "How can you say you're trying when, in truth, I'm the one putting in so much for us?!"
In that very second, Megumi thought that he hated seeing you like this. You were supposed to be the cheerful one in this relationship, and when he agreed to go out with you, he made an unspoken commitment to himself that he would at least not make you miserable.
And yet...
"...I'm sorry."
Came his reply, and you were sure that this was it.
And to rub the salt in your wound, he added, "I can't lie to you and say I haven't thought this for a while too."
As tears welled within you, you wondered and questioned what you lacked that led to this. However, the overwhelming sense of betrayal consuming your thoughts ultimately prevailed over any other emotions.
Now he could've appeared before you as a stranger and you wouldn't bat an eye, as the cold steel in his tone said, "And if blaming me is what it takes to make you feel better, then so be it."
You couldn't pinpoint the source of your sudden boldness, but in the next hot minute, you marched past him, your shoulder harshly colliding with his in a deliberate, almost spiteful mannerâwhich, indeed, was your intentionâand then you ran.
Which led to the next scene: you found yourself bawling your eyes out in the girls' lavatory.
Yuji and Nobara saw everything unfolding right before their eyes. They hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but you and Megumi were literally breaking up right the middle of their shared classroom, and it was hard not to follow the discourse until the end.
"Are you okay?" Nobara had come to your side, ensuring privacy by locking the restroom door out of your consideration. You were a sobbing mess, attempting to wipe the overflowing tears away while letting out all your emotions.
"He's..." Your voice faltered amid sobs as you gazed at your steadfast friend, your throat clogging up. "He said... he's been wanting t-to... break up with m-me..."
"That's okay, that's okay..." Nobara brought you to her arms, patting your back in reassurance. "Fushiguro is insensitive like that... don't cry over him now. He's just a wimp, okay?"
"Why is it me?" you asked her, voice brittle, still shaking with tears. "I t-tried everything! Being the supportive girlfriend..."
"If he can't appreciate what you did, then the problem lies with him," your friend stated, traces of irritation brewing in her resolute gaze. And as she firmly grasped your wrist, her next words resonated. "Not you."
. . .
"Do you really have to break her heart like that?" Yuji fidgeted with his hoodie, staring at his best friend with a blend of confusion and sympathy.
Megumi sighed, finally ruffling his hair into a mess, as if expressing his own state of mind. âThis is for the best.â
Yujiâs eyebrows visibly creased. âHow is this âfor the bestâ? Sheâs miserable, and youâŠâ he assessed him, scanning him from head to toe, âit doesnât seem youâre faring any better too.â
âThe longer she is with me, the unhappier she will be.â Megumi glanced at the bathroomâs direction. âShe can deserve better.â
He was always too quiet, too boring, not able to match your energy too. He couldnât fault you for expecting more, whereas he was just not exactly built for your expectations.
Megumi really thought he wanted it to end. At one point, it even felt like a chore, butâŠ
How strange. Why did it feel like something was clawing at his chest?
Time heals. Megumi knew that by theory, but he really did see it firsthand when he saw you all giggling and happy again three weeks after he initiated the breakup.
With Hakari.
âYo, what are you glaring at?â Panda asked, but Megumi didnât pay him any mind.
An upperclassman, Hakari Kinji, was naturally cool and talented. He was laid back, knew how to have funâall in all, a total opposite of Fushiguro Megumi altogether.
Three weeks. Itâs only been three weeks since then.
âMegumi?â
Wait⊠Arenât three weeks too fast to get over your ex?
âMegumi!â
âHuh?â he turned to the sentient panda with a jerk. âOh, what is it?â
He looked at him with a concerned gaze. "Why do you look so scary? It's almost as if you're about to punch someone..."
But who was he to argue? He had no right to be upset now.
"Is it Kinji?" Panda gasped, finally putting two and two together when he followed his line of sight. "Oh Megumi... but youâ"
"Just shut up, please," he blurted then, a hint of annoyance in his tone. With that, Panda didn't pursue it further, leaving him with his thoughts.
From where he was at the field, he could clearly see your radiant smile for Hakari. It was clear that the two of you shared a degree of friendship, but Megumi never knew that you two were that close.
...huh?
Why did the sight irritate him so suddenly? Why did his chest twinge again?
What a fool. You're the one driving her away, you idiot.
Suddenly these memories popped up one by oneâ
Of you suddenly hugging him from behind in an attempt to surprise him.
How he pressed his lips on the crown of your head when you fall asleep on his shoulder.
How you would give him that dopey smile when he pulled you close.
But on harder days after missions gone wrong, heâd ignore you altogetherâ the slight disappointment in your smile then. How your expression fell when he told you to go. How you slumped and looked back in hopes of him changing his mind.
âHaaaah.â Megumi turned away, unwilling to keep watching you any longer. Why? Why hadnât it occurred to him before now?
Why did he long for you now? Why not before, when you were still his?
They were right. It seems people tend to desire what isn't meant for them.
What could have been more painfully awkward than being sent into a mission with your ex-boyfriend?
You would kill Gojo for this. Or at least give him the lowest possible score in his teaching evaluation for the year. How could he? Your breakup was an infamous public spectacle, so this setup was undoubtedly intentional!
You were losing your head over this, and yet your ex-boyfriend...
"Keep your guard up," Megumi reminded curtly, in a warning tone. He looked as vigilant and straight as always, as if he wasn't even bothered.
You threw him a dirty look, offended. "You don't have to tell me twice."
This just cranked up the discomfort to an excruciating level. The mix of unresolved tension and memoriesâokay, you might be an emo, but how were you supposed to be cool with all of these hanging in the air?
Your site of exorcism was an abandoned warehouse, and the cursed spirit in question was supposed to be a grade 3. You two were grade 2 sorcerers now, so you were a perfect fit to exorcise it. But there was indeed this unease in the air that you couldn't put your finger to.
"Isn't it awfully too quiet?" you unwittingly muttered, staring at the darkness of the wall. You couldn't feel any cursed energy belonging to any possible malevolent entity, and that was what unsettled you the most.
Megumi frowned at your line of sight. "It is. Stay close."
You blinked at what he said, and before you knew it, the familiar scent of him being near to you made your entire body burst with this equally familiar warmth. When you looked up to him, seeing the solid sharpness in that dark eyes of his and his jaw set, dead butterflies in your chest rose back to life again, against your heartbreak and better judgement.
Stay close, he said... So he is worried...
And in an attempt to hide how flustered you were, you looked down.
You walked a few good steps, when suddenly he asked, "So, are you with Hakari-senpai now?"
"Huh?" You spun around, your expression a mix of surprise and confusion.
"You two seem close."
Seem close? Seem close... wait, so Megumi had noticed...?
Suddenly, you felt incited and it made you angry. "That's none of your business," your voice carried a sharp edge, hissing. And you knew you were being a bit mean by adding, "You broke up with me, so why do you even care?"
In that moment, Megumi could've sworn his chest throbbed. Your cutting tone pierced directly into his heart, lodging itself there.
You had all rights to be annoyed, and he knew that. Why did that question even slip out of him?
"Nah, nevermind," he mumbled in response, looking away.
Awkwardness lingered afterwards. You hated this, but no, you weren't above being petty. He had broken your heart and it still stung even now. If your intentionally biting words did to him even a fraction of what he made you feel, then you would find a small sense of satisfaction in it.
But you weren't able to ponder about your mess of feelings further when Megumi abruptly yanked your arm, his voice soaking with urgency, "It's here!"
Sure enough, the grotesque cursed spirit with the shape of a giant bee broke through the walls with a bang. The two of you immediately readied your fighting stance. Megumi was ready with his divine dogs, while you with your cursed weapon.
For a while, you engaged the cursed spirit with all you had. You were trying to focus on the enemy, but you couldn't help but notice the way Megumi always looked at you every few seconds, checking for any signs of injury or harm.
Frankly speaking, he trusted your strength and knew that you were a capable sorcerer. You had been paired in a mission before and he knew both your potential and shortcomings. It was just there was something about this place that had his senses on high alert.
And his fears were proven true when you yelped and were flung onto the grimy floor. "Y/N!"
"I'm fine!" you shouted in a rush, scrambling to your feet. However, as you spun towards him, your scream tore through the hall as you caught sight of the bee lurking behind him. "Megumi!"
He got distracted. The bee quickly latched onto him and almost stung him, until he wrestled it off and summoned Nue and exorcised it.
You went to his side that instant. "Are you okay?!"
"I am." But then he winced and almost fell on his knees if you didn't have a secure grip on him. He savored your touch and breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that now you two were safe.
"Megumi! Oh god!" Panic surged through you as you pulled him close. His side was bleeding, and you widened your eyes at the sight.
"I'm okay, I promise," he rasped, looking you in the eyes. "What aboâ"
Then you saw it, the flicker from deep from that corner of platform, and suddenly, you grasped the source of the unease that had been lingering within you all this time. It wasn't the bee Megumi had just exorcisedâ
At that moment, there was no room for thought, one thing was certain: you didn't want him to get hurt more.
He didn't manage to finish his sentence when suddenly you pushed him away with so much force he never thought you had. Everything crashed so suddenly, he didn't have the time to brace himself or grab you with him, as another cursed bee appeared out of nowhere andâ
Reality flashed before his eyes as he stared at you in sheer horror. At how the cursed spirit tore your body, sinking its hollow stinger in you.
You didn't really know what happened next. Everything was muffledâthe frantic movements around you turned into a blur, along with Megumi's yells. Otherworldly pain coursed through your entire being and your ears rang, then everything in your line of sight became distorted and faded, along with your consciousness. Next and the last thing you knew was Megumi's battered face, a final imprint before you succumbed to the void.
Megumi had exorcised the remaining cursed spirit and staggered to his feetâfalling a few times, but he made his way towards you through gritted teeth. You are hurt. He forced himself to get to you and pull you into his arms.
And suddenly, suddenly, nothing mattered anymore as overwhelming terror consumed him upon seeing you. Blood streamed from your abdomen so much that it made a continuous pool.
"You stupidâ!" He choked out, voice hitching. You were no longer conscious and it devastated him even more. "Hey, hey? Wake upâhellsâ"
You, who did everything you could to save your relationship. You, who cried tears for him when he blatantly broke your heart. And you, who put himself firstâand now facing the consequences.
It crashed upon him in that very second, the clarity. What was he thinking back then? He still loves you.
"If you die on me, I won't forgive you."
Megumi scooped you in his arms, pressing you close to his chest, the blood seeping from his wound be damned as he looked at your serene face. His heart shattered in the worst way possible and he almost wheezed at the sticky sensation of your bloodâand how lifeless you felt in his graspâbut he willed it away.
"Don't," his broken rasp echoed the walls as he took each step to get both of you out of this hellhole. He winced and hissed at his own injury, chewing his lip in frustration, at how helpless he was.
"Don't leave me."
It was like a distant, hazy memory.
Was it a memory though? No. It seemed far too real for that.
The throbbing headache pounding through your skull and shivers that wracked your body pulled you back to reality. There was a heavy pressure on your abdomen and any movement sent sharp pain shooting through you.
You gradually opened your eyes, squinting against the brightness. You were in a hospital gown, an IV was injected on your arm, and the sterile scent made your stomach twist, as nausea creeping through your guts. Your vision was still blurry as you tried to look around to find someone who waited for you. As you slowly turned your head to the side, you saw him, sitting in the chair right next your bed.
Megumi was sleeping in such uncomfortable position, his head resting on the edge of your bed. He appeared peaceful, almost childlike, devoid of his usual stoic demeanor.
Your heartstrings were tugged at this rare sight. He also sustained injuries and yet... he was waiting for you to wake up, here.
Your chest swelled with warmth, which was quickly followed by a sting of heartbreak. Still, you two broke up...
You jolted, and the inadvertent movement sent a wave of pain that seemed to paralyze your nerves, causing you to whimper. The noise woke Megumi from his slumber, as he shot his eyes open in alarm, catching your hand in his.
"Hey... Are you okay?" Megumi worriedly looked down at you with a visible frown, and the grimace of pain on your face, accompanied by trembling lips, was enough of an answer. He hastily scrambled out in slight panic, "I'll get Ieiri-san."
When Shoko came and got you the painkillers, your pain receded somewhat. Through it all, Megumi stood there, casting concerned glances in your way.
"Bedrest for the week," Shoko stated firmly, assessing your wound with a no-nonsense expression. "Your injury isn't minorâit's serious enough that you're strongly advised against excessive movement."
You could only nod in response. Megumi bowed. "Thank you, Ieiri-san." Once the doctor departed, silence settled over the room once more.
âWhy did you do that?â he quietly asked then, referring to what you did for him. And when you turned to him, you saw it clearly.
He looked pale, and there was this haunted look in his eyes. It broke your heart a little.
"You were hurt." Your voice came out dry, and you realized firsthand just how parched you were. Seeing Megumi looking down never quite sat right with you. He was meant to be an unwavering presence, someone strong enough to sway your convictions.
However, a pang struck when he countered with stern eyes, "You didn't have to do that."
...he was right. You didn't have to. What he didn't know was that you were still holding on these stupid feelings, which drove you to shield him. It made you ponder: if your roles were reversed, would he not step in to protect you at all?
"Why are you here?" You weren't sure if the bitterness in your tone was evident, but you continued anyway. "You don't have to be here either."
"Don't have to?" His gaze bore disbelief, as if not believing your words. "I'mâ"
"If it's because I saved you, Megumiâ"
âDo not even think, even for a moment, that I wonât be concerned over you.â His voice, deep and hoarse, struck you to the core, silencing your words. âNever. I always, always want you to be safe.â
Your mind became a blank slate. Suddenly, all that mattered was his voice.
"Don't you realize how terrifying it was? Seeing you like that?" Megumi spat, his green eyes shining with intensity, teeth gritted and fists clenched. "How could you even think that I wouldn't be hereâ" his breath hitched, and then his lips trembled slightly, "âfor you?"
You blinked quickly, a feeling stirred within youâstemming from that cursed, fragile heart of yours to be exact, evident from the rapid thumping in your chest.
You dumbly uttered, "But we areâ"
"Oh, Goddamnit." Megumi cursed, and honestly you were taken aback. It wasn't really in him to swear, so this really bugged him. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and despite the situation, your heart skipped a beat at the sight. Even a mess in a hospital gown, your ex-boyfriend was still undeniably attractive.
He stared at you squarely in the eye, unflinching, steadfast and true, the very image of Fushiguro Megumi you admired from afar and fell in love with in the first place half a year ago. "You don't have to... say anything, if you don't want to. Right now... just hear me out."
And the things he said next... all of them, you could say, caught you entirely off guard.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not trying hard enough, andâdamn it, for making you sad. I never, ever wanted to see you that upset."
Megumi drew in a sharp breath, averting his gaze. "And for days, I've wondered if you and Hakari-senpai are now a thing... and you know what? I hate it so much. I know I have no grounds to feel this way, after what I did, but..."
And like a train wreck, his final words hit you hard. Tears welled up in your eyes in immediate response.
âI'm a loser, and a coward too, maybe,â he shrugged, a tinge of self-deprecation in his tone. âAnd I suck at telling people my feelings, but I love you. I still do.â
A sob slipped out of your throat and you hastily pulled the blanket over your face, much to his surprise. He thought he had worsened things, with the way you were turning away from him.
But then, from beneath the blanket, in a croaky voice, you proclaimed, "Fushiguro Megumi, you're a complete and utter idiot."
And Megumi didn't know that he had been holding back his breath as he chuckled heartily, relieved that you would still take his ass back after this prolonged mess. He knew he still had a lot to make up for and was determined to show it through his actions.
"Maybe I am, yeah."
"That's possibly the longest shit you have ever spouted in one breath."
"Yeah..."
But he got his chance back, and he knew that you would be alright. Both of you are.
On one sunny day...
"Hey, are you alone?"
Megumi glanced up from his phone, only to be met with a random girl standing in front of him, batting her eyelashes with an ambiguous intent. He blinked at her curiously.
"No. Can I help you?"
The girl twirled her hair suggestively. "Ah, you see... I see you all in your lonesome and I think you're quite cuteâ"
The hell? Megumi frowned, and he was really about to give this bimbo a piece of his mind whenâ
Oh, oh. Forget that. Megumi's attention snapped to you on the opposite side of the crossroad. All pretty and dolled up with that crop tee and miniskirt he once mentioned would look great on you by a slip of tongueâthat accidental comment earned him your teasing quips for weeks already.
"Sorry, I'm here for my girlfriend. Bye."
Abruptly dismissing the girl, he didn't catch how comically offended she was for being turned down in a span of 20 seconds. He took big strides towards you, as you crossed the street, and you immediately beamed when you caught the sight of his face.
"Megumi!"
Ah, this is going to be a good day, he thought. As he gazed at your pretty face, and caught your hand in his, clasping it tightly, reveling in your scent and the warmth of your presence beside himâ
He was content, and once again it dawned on him, that he likes you so, so damn much.
"Let's get started on our date, shall we?"
#fushiguro megumi x reader#jjk x reader#megumi fushiguro x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader angst#megumi fushiguro x reader fluff#megumi fushiguro x reader angst#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader fluff#fushiguro x reader#megumi x reader#jjk fanfic#jjk imagines#fushiguro megumi fluff#fushiguro megumi x y/n#fushiguro megumi angst#jjk#megumi fluff#megumi fushiguro#jjk angst#jjk fluff
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Hello, I love your writing, can I request Charles Leclerc x singer!reader where they already knew each other back when they were teenagers but the reader moves to LA to pursue her career so they kinda feel off cuz of the long distance, so years later Charles decides to surprise her at one of her concerts and tries to shoot his shoot after all those years they end up together and it's all fluffy and cute.
Sorry if this doesn't make sense english is not my first language, thank you <3
love this!!! tysm <3
birds of a feather âż
charles leclerc x reader
summary: fem singer!reader reignites an old teenage love with famous driver charles leclerc
songs: birds of a feather by b.eilish, the 1 by t.swift
authorâs note: mostly cute and fluffy but had to add a bit of angst oops! inspo from billieâs new album obv bc thatâs all iâm listening to rn. also some google translate involved so oops again if itâs wrong :)
word count: 4k
In the luxurious city of Monaco, you and Charles were cruising along the winding roads late at night, a favored pastime for the two of you. The cool breeze tousled your hair as the windows were rolled down, filling the car with the scent of saltwater and adventure. You stole a glance at Charles in the driver's seat, his face adorned with that familiar boyish grin, his eyes sparkling just as they did on the day you met him.
The car zoomed down the winding road, its expensive engine purring like a contented cat. Despite its luxurious interior, Charles had no qualms about letting you put your feet up on the dash. The scarlet sky painted with streaks of orange and pink was the perfect backdrop for this drive at sunset.
One thing different about this drive at sunset was that one of your own songs was playing on the radio. At only 19 years old, your song âBirds of a Featherâ was reaching the top of the charts worldwide. At any chance he got, Charles would blast it at full volume whenever the two of you were together. It only made sense considering the song was about him.
You and Charles had been inseparable since childhood, a bond that felt unbreakable and essential to your very existence. Over the years, you both had your fair share of romantic partners, but it seemed like none of them could compare to the connection you shared. Despite any ups and downs in your own love lives, you and Charles always found your way back to each other, like two ships anchored together in the stormy sea of life.
Of course, there were fleeting moments when you wondered if there could be something more between you and Charles. The thought would cross your mind as his hand brushed yours or when he made you laugh until your sides ached. But those thoughts remained just that - fleeting and unspoken. You both cherished your friendship too much to risk changing its dynamic.
But deep down, underneath layers of familiarity and comfort, there was a quiet longing that neither of you acknowledged. A shared understanding that there was something more between you than just being best friends. And although it was left unsaid, it was an unspoken truth that added a layer of depth to your friendship.
The bass of the song throbbed through the car, drowning out Charles' words as he spoke to you. You strained to hear him over the music, but all you could see were his lips moving in time with the beat. "What?!" you shouted comically with a grin, and he reached for the volume knob to turn it down.
"I said, it's only a matter of time before you're touring worldwide," he repeated with a small smile. You shook your head in amusement. Charles always had grand visions for your music career, dreaming of reaching the stars and achieving the highest goals even when you couldn't imagine them yourself.
âYouâre only saying that to be nice,â you playfully bantered with him, knowing deep down he truly believed in your talent.
A wistful smile crossed his face as he replied, âIâm serious. Before you know it, youâll be in L.A., living your dream and making music for the world.â His words had a bittersweet edge to them, causing your own smile to falter. There was truth in his statement - Charles had just signed with Ferrari and would soon be the busiest he's ever been in his career as a Formula One driver. You were endlessly proud of him and all that he had accomplished. It feels like just yesterday when you both were just kids with big dreams, but now here you are, actually making strides towards achieving those dreams. Even with a hit song on the radio and promising opportunities ahead, you still felt like you were ages behind in becoming someone big in the music industry. And the thought of possibly leaving your best friend behind as you pursued your dreams weighed heavily on your heart.
He noticed the solemn expression on your face, his eyes full of understanding and affection. "Ah, come on," he said gently, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "You know I mean that in a good way." His voice was warm and sincere."L.A. is a hotbed for the music industry right now," he continued, his excitement palpable. "And haven't you always talked about wanting to go to the States?"
You nodded slowly, unable to contain a small smile at the thought. "Yeah, but...I can't even imagine us being apart for so long," you admitted with a hint of sadness. "We've never been separated for more than a week. And even then, you were blowing up my phone every day." You couldn't help but laugh at the memory.
His own laughter rang out, contagious and genuine. "So now you know that when you're in the U.S., you won't have to worry about us not talking," he reassured you. "Clearly, I can't get enough of you." His words made your heart swell with love and comfort. Despite any ridiculous or anxious thoughts that may cross your mind, you were always reminded that the bond between you two could stretch thousands of miles.
About a week later, you had hired a manager with the help of your parents and were looking at record labels to sign with. Your social media pages were blowing up with new fans anticipating and begging for new music. It was a rightful step for a singer who had just had a song blow up, to make more music.
After many phone calls and contracts, you decided on the best deal to sign with the record label you had always wanted. With a location in Los Angeles, Sony Music Entertainment was your new employer.Â
As the days passed, the familiar childhood bedroom in Monaco slowly transformed into a maze of boxes and packing materials. The bittersweet scent of nostalgia clung to the air as you said goodbye to the people and places that had shaped you. It was early February, just before the newest Formula One season started, but Charles seemed to be swallowed up by his work, juggling the responsibilities of being their rookie driver. In those fleeting moments between racing events, he squeezed in time for you, knowing that soon you would both be consumed by your separate paths. On the last night together, you took a nostalgic drive around town, savoring every street corner and landmark. As the sun dipped below the horizon, you returned to your house - now empty and cold without all of your belongings. The silence hung heavy in the air as you sat side by side, cherishing these final moments together.
You both sat on your bed as you rested your head on his shoulder and asked, âHow did this even happen?âÂ
âYour talent will always drive you towards success, how could it not happen?â He replied and it made your eyes water. You werenât sure how you were going to adjust with your time apart. Youâll miss his advice and little jokes. Youâll miss your late night drives around Monaco with him, taking in the cool air.
As he turned to face you, his piercing eyes caught the glistening trails of tears streaming down your cheeks. His own expression shifted from concern to sadness as he took in the sight of your heartbroken state. With a heavy sigh, he reached out to gently wipe away a stray tear from your cheek and murmured, "Please don't cry." Your eyes met his with a solemn understanding, but your bottom lip began to quiver despite your efforts.
You couldn't help but notice the glimmer of tears in his own eyes, which only made your own tears flow even more freely. Together, you both sat on the edge of your bed, gripping each other's hands tightly as you cried until it became almost comical at just how much emotion was pouring out of both of you. In between sobs, he managed to let out a small laugh and said, "It's not even an actual goodbye, I'll see you again soon.â
You couldn't help but laugh along with him through your tears. "I know," you replied with a watery smile. "I'll see you before I know it.â
But as the night wore on and the hour grew late, the reality of tomorrow morning's early flight to L.A. began to sink in. Despite wanting to hold onto this moment for as long as possible, you both knew it was time to say goodbye. You stood up and shared one final embrace, his arms enveloping you in a tight hug while yours rested around his neck. The warmth of his body and the familiar scent of his cologne brought a sense of comfort amidst the pain of parting ways.
âTu vas me manquer mon amour,â he whispered by your ear, which made you squeeze him tighter.Â
âTu vas me manquer davantage, Char.â You replied with a raspy voice, your cheeks still wet with tears. He blew you a kiss before walking out the door.
~ 5 years later ~
The electric energy of Los Angeles, California pulsed through the air as you walked towards the venue on the opening night of your highly anticipated second tour. Fresh off the massive success of your second album, fans from all over the world were eagerly awaiting your performance tonight. You could already hear their screams and see their signs, some bearing your name since the very beginning of your career. Your first tour had been small, just a few cities in the U.S., but now with your skyrocketing fame, this tour would take you to stages across the globe. The thought of performing for thousands of people in different countries sent a thrill through your veins. As you approached the entrance, excitement and nerves intertwined within you, ready to take on this new chapter in your music career.
As you nervously waited backstage, dressed in a stunning white gown for your highly anticipated opening night in Los Angeles, your mind couldn't help but wander to a familiar name: Charles. The two of you had been inseparable during your first year in L.A., constantly talking and supporting each other's dreams. But as time went on, his calls and texts became less frequent until they eventually stopped altogether. You found yourself relying on social media to keep up with him and were happy to see that he had found success with Ferrari, but also couldn't shake the feeling of hurt and confusion as to why he had suddenly disappeared from your life. You debated reaching out to congratulate him on his wins, but deep down, you knew it wouldn't make a difference.
The next years after that became hard, and you struggled to make genuine connections with anyone in the industry. You found that often other artists wanted to use you for their fame or publicity. But you had found one genuine person, your boyfriend. The two of you dated for two years, but two weeks before the opening night of your world tour, he broke things off. You were devastated, as he had become someone you loved dearly and could trust with your whole being. His reason was that he realized he couldnât handle your level of fame and that it was becoming too much for him to handle.Â
So here you were, backstage, reminiscing on your career up until this point. Your mind ran over the setlist a thousand times. âBirds of a Featherâ hadnât made the cut for this tour, and you stopped performing it all together once Charles had stopped communicating with you. You werenât sure why he was on your mind so much for your opening night.Â
As you stepped out onto the stage, a wave of excited nerves washed over you. But with each step and movement, your confidence grew until it radiated off of you like a second skin. The bright lights illuminated your white dress, making it glow against the dark backdrop. You knew this dress well, having spent hours upon hours rehearsing in it, mastering every twirl and flick of the sleeves. And now, as you sang and danced flawlessly, you felt like a true star. Every note was hit perfectly, every movement graceful and deliberate. It was as if you were born to be on that stage, commanding the attention of everyone in the audience. The familiar click of a metronome and the muffled directions from backstage played in your in-ears, guiding you through the performance like a well-oiled machine. You had become a masterful performer, honing your craft to perfection.
You wished you could remember every moment of this night as you went through the setlist. You performed âthe 1â, a song from your most recent album. Fans speculated it was about the recent split with your boyfriend, but really in your mind you knew it was about Charles. Your fans mostly were unaware of Charles and the old friendship the two of you had. He rarely talked about you in the media, and you were never asked about him, even though the two of you were individually growing more famous by the day.
As the final song ended, you returned backstage, the sweat dripping down your face and your body heaving with exhaustion. This tour was more physically demanding than your last one, with intricate dance routines and high-energy performances. But it was all worth it as you heard the crowd's roar of approval after each song and saw their hands in the air, singing along to every lyric. The adrenaline rush and satisfaction of a flawless opening night kept you going despite the fatigue setting in.
You got a flood of compliments from your team and the crew backstage as you felt the dewy feeling of sweat on your forehead cool down. Your manager came up to and wrapped you in a big hug, congratulating you and updating you on the next steps for the tour.
âI know you donât typically meet people after shows, but thereâs actually a visitor here for you. He was pretty persistent.â She told you as you stood outside your dressing room.Â
âWho is it?â You asked tiredly, not wishing for long interactions with people after the show. You were worn out, and typically napped or slept through the night after a long show.Â
âHe said his name is Charles Leclerc. Went on about how you guys were childhood friends. He showed his ID and credentials so we allowed it.â Your manager explained everything and as she was speaking your face became flushed. Charles was here, in L.A? And your management had allowed him to meet with you. You were partly in shock and partly frustrated with how easily he was able to persuade your team.
âWellâŠwhere is he?â You asked, and your manager pointed to your dressing room door. âHeâs in my dressing room?â You questioned in a surprised voice, lowering your voice in case he could hear you. Â
âWe werenât sure where else he couldâve waited. He made it seem like he needed to have a serious talk with you.â She explained further and you put your head in your hands. You couldnât believe the words that had come out of her mouth, and thought that maybe she was joking. You thought that youâd open up your dressing room door and it would be empty, earning a loud laugh from her and a âGot you!â
As you slowly opened your door, still clad in your flowing white dress, your heart caught in your throat as you saw Charles sitting on the plush brown leather couch. The air was thick with surprise and a tinge of nervousness, evidenced by Charles' fidgeting hands rubbing against his pants. You could barely breathe as you managed to utter a breathless greeting, "Hi."
He stood up abruptly, his body language tense and unsure. âHi,â he replied.
The silence hung between you like a heavy curtain as you asked, "What...um...what are you doing here?" Your fingers instinctively ran through your slightly tangled hair as you waited for his response, feeling both overwhelmed and curious about this unexpected visit.
As he stood before you, he seemed to struggle with his words, his voice catching and pausing as if trying to contain an overwhelming emotion. You gazed at him in awe, taking in every detail of his changed appearance. The dimple in his cheek still deepened when he spoke, the same crystal eyes sparkled with unreadable emotions. But now his shoulders were broader, defined muscles rippling beneath his shirt, and his neck had thickened with strength. It was clear that time had passed, but it had only enhanced his features instead of diminishing them. "I," he finally managed to say, his gaze never leaving yours, "I came here to apologize." You couldn't believe he was standing in front of you after so long. And in this moment, all you could think about was how much you missed him and how different things could have been if he had stayed.
âApologize?â You repeated, awaiting further clarification.Â
âIâve missed you terribly.â He began to pour out, finally getting a grip on his words, âEvery day we havenât been together has haunted me. Youâve plagued my dreams, my every waking thought.â He took a swallow, âI see you online, doing amazing things, and I just feel this guilt that Iâm not there with you.â
You could hardly believe the words he was saying. You felt the same, you missed him every morning you woke and every night you went to sleep. Yet you felt a tinge of resentment. He could have been there, he could have responded to your dozens of calls and texts.Â
âIâm sorry, mon chĂ©rie.â He finished his speech.
Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and your eyes watered with emotion, your face contorted with hurt. Your voice came out breathless as you spoke, "Char, why didn't you call?" Your heart ached with longing and you couldn't understand why he hadn't taken action to bridge the distance between you. The unspoken desire between you was almost tangible, making the current situation even more painful for both of you.
âMy ex-girlfriend, once we got together she saw how often we communicated and told me that I couldnât talk to you anymore. And I thought I loved her so much that I was willing to do whatever it took. ButâŠit turns outâŠâ He paused, looking you in the eyes.Â
âWhat?â You questioned, waiting for him to spit it out.Â
âIt turns out as the years went on, that I just loved you.â He said as he stepped closer.Â
âYou donât mean that,â You denied shaking your head, a single tear running down your cheek.Â
âBut I do,â he grabbed your hand, âI think Iâve always loved you.â
You broke out into a grin while tears still fell, and wrapped your arms around him, burying your head into his chest. âWhat took you so long?âÂ
âIâm sorry mon amour, I guess I was just too stupid to actually do anything. But I love you, I love you so much.â His arms wrapped around your waist, kissing the top of your head.Â
You pulled back and placed your hands on his face, admiring his mature features. He took his thumbs to wipe off the tears on your face. âI love you too,â You told him and he grinned. âWill you finally kiss me?âÂ
His lips met yours in a gentle, yet passionate, kiss. As your heart raced and butterflies fluttered in your stomach, you couldn't help but smile as his lips moved against yours. It was your first kiss with the love of your life, a moment that you would never forget.
You had always known deep down that he was the one for you, but you had spent so long convincing yourself that a friendship was all it could ever be. But now, as you felt the warmth of his embrace and the intensity of his kiss, you realized that the love of your life could also be your best friend - the person who knows and understands you better than anyone else in the world. And in that moment, you were grateful for every step that had led you to this perfect moment with him.
Charles had to return to his Formula One season, but the two of you called every day. He made it to shows on your tour when he could, and when you traveled to France to play your home show, he was there for every minute of it.Â
The crowd knew that this show was special, and fans had picked up on the new romance between you and Charles. Everyone was loving it, and older fans finally put the pieces together on the connection the two of you had. So for your home show, you played âBirds of a Featherâ for everyone as a surprise, with Charles in attendance. The song had only changed meaning slightly, as you sang it with more love towards him than youâve ever had before. Headlines were soon filled with your name along with his.
As the next year rolled around and January came, the two of you were inseparable at award shows, him proudly by your side for every one of your achievements. His smile lit up the room and his hand always found yours in the sea of people. Even when you won your first Grammy, he was there in all of your acceptance speeches, his eyes sparkling with pride.
As the year went on and you took a break from touring, you joined him on the road during his racing season. The roar of engines and smell of burning rubber filled your senses as you watched him race with skill and determination. The paddock quickly became like a second home to you, with fans flocking to meet the both of you. The Ferrari team welcomed you with open arms, treating you like family. It was a dream come true to be able to share this passion with him, and you couldn't imagine a better way to spend your time off.
Charles never dulled your shine; in fact, he basked in its radiance. He was not intimidated by your fame, but rather, he reveled in it. As you both shared stories about past relationships, Charles' understanding became apparent. He may have been known for different reasons, but he knew the highs and lows that came with celebrity status. Together, you formed an unbreakable bond of understanding and support. Life had become akin to heaven with Charles by your side, a constant source of love and grounding amidst the chaos of fame.
Together, you moved into a luxurious apartment in the heart of Monaco. The spacious living room had been transformed into your personal music studio, with instruments and recording equipment scattered about in organized chaos. The walls were adorned with posters from your past tours and handwritten lyrics. Charles stood by the window, looking out at the stunning view of the city below, while you strummed your guitar on the plush couch. The sense of security and stability he brought to your life was palpable - his presence assuring you that he would always be there, no matter where your music took you. As you played him your latest compositions, his fingers effortlessly danced across the keys of the piano, adding depth and richness to the melodies. Together, you created magic in that space - harmonizing not just in music but also in life.
As you laid in bed one night, your head rested on the pillow turned towards him, you caught him staring at you. You grinned, âWhat?âÂ
âNothing, Iâve just never seen someone more beautiful before in my life.â He told you in a low voice, smirking at you. You rolled your eyes playfully, knowing you shouldâve expected him to shower you with compliments.Â
You placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, âJe tâaime chĂ©ri.âÂ
You both settled into bed, cuddled up next to each other. He kissed your temple, âJe tâaimerai toujours plus.â    Â
#charles leclerc#f1 x reader#formula one#formula one fanfic#formula 1#formula 1 fanfic#f1 fanfic#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x female reader#f1 fic#f1#f1 imagine
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I saw you were taking requests for Bellamy Blake and I haddd to send one in!! Could you please write a lil spice fic, where theyâre in the woods and get in a fight or sum n he js suddenly kissss her. Thank you twin!!
Unspoken Feelings
Pairing: Bellamy Blake x Reader
Author's Note: Hi!!! Thank you so much for this!! My first request for Bellamy Blake. Oh the things I felt while working on this...đ By the way I had to make a few changes, this is my most polished draft, haha. I'm so excited to share it, though I don't know how good I did with the spicy. I hope you like it!! Thank you for requesting. â€ïž
There could be grammar mistakes, English isn't my first language.
He really thinks heâs the leader, the king of the earth. Self-centered egoist of a man. He can go fuck himself. You think as you walk through the woods in search of the plant that Clarke needs for Finn, who was attached by the grounder that kidnapped Octavia.
They managed to get him to the ship, but now he was struggling for his life. The problem was that the knife he was stabbed with was infected. Bellamy and his group got the grounder and tortured him to get information. Of course he refused to give it, that until Octavia threatened him to harm herself with the poisoned knife. Finn would live, but Clark needed more medicinal plants for him.
But of course, Bellamy Blake had to give his ultimatum that no one would leave the camp, no after realizing that you arenât the only survivors of earth. He could care less about saving people, but you for sure didnât. You donât know Finn completely but, he deserves to live.
Since the ship landed on Earth, You and Bellamy have been at each otherâs throat every single moment. Itâs like you are locked in a never-ending battle, a constant clash of wills. Every decision he makes seems to deliberately oppose yours, every step he takes is a challenge to your very presence. He thrives in the chaos, you can see it in the way he strides trough camp, shoulders squared, head held high, daring anyone to question him. His mottoâwhatever the hell we wantârings in your ears like a taunt, a reckless mantra you canât ignore. He embodies it with every decision, with every command he gives without caring for the consequences.
When he encouraged the others to rip off their bracelets, you felt the sting of frustration burning through your veins. To him it was a bold declaration of independence from the Ark, but to you, it was a hasty move to those above thinking Earth wasnât livable.
And then, there was the Grounder. The way heâd dragged the man into camp, beaten and bloodied, as if his very existence was a crime that needed punishing. You left the room when he ordered the torture, convinced that brute force was the only answer. The look in his eyes thenâcold, calculating, determinedâwas a look that left a bitter taste in your mouth.
Heâs always there, hiding on the edges of your vision, challenging you. Itâs infuriating, the way he dismisses anything resembling compromise or collaboration as weakness, how he scoffs at your attempts to hold onto something resembling order or morality.
Yet, thereâs something in his attitude âsomething in the way he glances at you, a flicker of underdetermination, a tension that thrums between you like a wire. Itâs in the way he steps closer when you argue, his body taut, like heâs gearing up for a fight he both craves and dreads. You feel it tooâthe tightness in your chest, the burn of frustration thatâs more than just anger, something deeper, more complicated. You donât know whether you want to scream at him orâ
But no, you wonât give him the satisfaction of knowing he gets under your skin.
You take a look at the sky losing its light with each minute that it passes.
Taking a deep breath, you continue.
After what feels like hours of searching, you finally spot the familiar shape of the plant youâre looking for. You remember the details Clark gave you. Crouching down you carefully pull a small bag from your pocket. You work quickly, plucking the plants and stuffing them into the bag, your movements precise and purposeful.
But thenâa sudden rustling, a low whisper of movement through the leaves nearby. Your heart stutters, and your breath catches in your throat.
Instinct takes over. You drop low, pressing yourself against the cold ground, hiding behind the broad leaves of the plant. Grounders, maybe.
They could be watching, waiting.
You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, listening for the sound of footsteps, for the snap of a twig or the rustle of leaves that would betray their presence. But instead, you hear a low chuckleâsoft, mocking, and far too familiar.
Your eyes snap open, and you whip around, breath catching in your chest.
There, arms on his waist, is Bellamy. His eyes, dark and sharp, are fixed on you like a predator who has found his prey. His brows are drawn together, the muscles in his neck tense, and there's a fire in his gaze that blazes hotter than any annoyance you've seen before.
âI see you like to test my patience, Princess.â His deep voice cuts through the silence, pulling your gaze upward. He's standing right in front of you.
You get up immediately, your breathing and muscles relaxing at the notice that you are not in danger.
âWhat are you doing here?â You ignore his previous comment, turning around and continuing on getting more plants.
âI remember telling everyone to not leave camp, and that includes you too, you know? Thereâs no special treatment here.â You hear him from behind.
âI wasnât going to sit around. Clark needs this for Finn.â
âHeâs stable enough; we donât need anyone else getting hurt over this.â Bellamy insists, his tone sharp.
You clench your teeth and turn. âLook, I couldnât care less what you think. I donât go by your rules.â
Bellamy scoffs and grabs your arm. You let go of his grasp as soon as he starts walking.
âDonât touch me!â
Bellamy watches you, wondering why you are being stubborn right now. Hell, he even wonders why he came here for the first place. Was he worried about you? Why did he come here? He questions himself. Bellamyâs mind races, battling with the tangled web of his feelings. Heâs been fighting to keep everyone safe, to enforce rules that seem cold but necessary, and yet, here he is, breaking his own rule because of you.
Truth is, you have been nothing but a burden to him every single day since they put a foot on earth. Your defiance, your refusal to follow orders, your reckless braveryâall of it has been a thorn in his side. Every day, you challenged his authority and decisions, and yet, despite all the friction, despite the constant arguments and the resentment, thereâs something about you that pulls at him.
He canât quite distinguish it, but itâs thereâa magnetic pull that makes him question his own motives and feelings. Itâs in the way you stand up for what you believe in, even when it puts you at risk. Itâs in the fire and determination in your eyes, something that resonates with him on a deeper level than heâs willing to admit.
The frustration he feels is braided with an unspoken admiration, a bittering respect that complicates his emotions even further. Bellamy is torn between his duty and the sudden impulses of something elseâsomething he canât easily define or control. Itâs a vulnerability he hasnât allowed himself to explore, and it confuses him.
All he knows is that despite the danger and the defiance, he canât seem to turn his back on you. His frustration is laced with a deeper, more complex emotion that makes him question why heâs so determined to keep you safe.
He thought you would be this scared of everyone and everything type of girl, but you prove him all the opposite.
âLetâs go backââ
âI wonât.â You cut him off, not giving him a chance to say anything. You turn again and continue with your job.
Of course, you hoped that he would go and leave you alone. You hoped.
Next thing you know, your feet arenât touching the ground and you are being lifted up by him. A few leaves escape your grasp, so you make sure to close the bag.
âLet me go!â You protest.
âStop screaming, you are putting us in dangerâ He doesnât listen to your request, instead he walks back to camp.
You scoff, moving frantically. âIf you cared so much about safety, you wouldnât be carrying me off like Iâm just another pack to you!â
Bellamy's jaw clenches, and he stops abruptly, eyes scanning the surrounding woods.
âYouâre the one making noise,â he retorts, setting you down but not releasing his grip entirely. âKeep quiet orââ
You hear it thenâa rustling of leaves, far too close, far too deliberate. Your breath catches in your throat. Itâs not just the wind. Bellamy stiffens beside you, his grip on your arm tightening reflexively.
For a split second, your eyes meet, and you both know: the Grounders.
âRun,â he whispers, urgency dripping from the word.
But thereâs no time to argue. You both take off, feet pounding against the damp earth, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The sounds behind you grow closerâfootsteps, which makes your heart race even faster.
Up ahead, you spot a dark openingâa cave, half-hidden by foliage. You yank Bellamy toward it without thinking, and for once, he doesnât resist. Both dive inside, pressing against the cold rock. The cave is narrow, suffocating, but itâs cover.
Outside, you hear the murmurs and footsteps of the Grounders drawing near. You hold your breath, every muscle tense. Bellamyâs hand is still around your wrist, and you can feel his pulse racing just as fast as yours.
âWeâre not going anywhere until it clears. We need to stay inside.â he mutters, barely audible.
Bellamy presses a hand against the small of your back, steering you deeper into the cave, his touch firm, almost commanding. You feel the heat of his palm through your shirt, and it sends a jolt of anger through you.
âGet your hand off me.â You snap, jerking away from his touch. But the cave is too narrow, and he doesn't give you much space to maneuver.
His jaw tightens, and he steps even closer, his eyes dark and unreadable. âIâm trying to keep you from getting killed.â
You dig your heels in, resisting just to spite him. âI donât need you to save my life, Bellamy.â
He laughs, but thereâs no humor in itâjust a sharp, bitter edge. âYou think I want to be stuck here with you? Trust me, Princess, this is the last place I want to be.â
You whirl around, stepping closer, your chest brushing against his, both of you too angry to care. âThen why are you here?â you fire back, your voice louder than you intended. âWhy do you always have to control everything? Who made you the boss of me?"
His hand, still on your back, clenches into a fist, pulling you closer instead of pushing you away.
âMaybe because Iâm trying to keep you alive!â he spits out, his face inches from yours, his breath hot. âYou are always doing thisâtaking risks, getting in my way. Do you have a death wish?â
Your heart pounds in your chest, anger flaring into something more intense. âNo, but maybe you do,â you whisper fiercely. âComing out here, risking your life for someone you supposedly canât stand. What is it, Bellamy? Why do you even care?â
He grits his teeth, and you see something flicker in his eyesâa momentary crack in his armor. âI donât!â he snaps, but his voice lacks conviction, faltering on the last word.
âLiar,â you accuse, stepping even closer, your forehead nearly touching his. âIf you didnât care, youâd have let me go. You wouldnât have come after me, wouldnât haveââ
His grip tightens on your arm, and his other hand moves to your waist, his fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp. âYou think you know everything, donât you?â His voice is low, almost a growl. âYou think youâve got me all figured out?â
You tilt your chin defiantly, eyes blazing. âWhy donât you just admit it? All this, youâre not really angry. Youâre scared. Scared of what might happen if you lose control. Scared of what it means if something happens to mâ"
But he doesnât let you finish. In the blink of an eye, heâs on you, lips crashing against yours with a force that takes your breath away. The kiss is rough, almost bruising, a mixture of frustration and something deeperâsomething desperate. You freeze for a moment, caught off guard, before the shock melts into anger again, and you shove against his chest.
He doesnât pull back. Instead, he presses you harder against the cold, cave wall, his body flush against yours. His hands move up, one sliding to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place while his mouth claims yours with a furious intensity, like heâs trying to silence every word, every protest.
Your heart is racing, your thoughts a tangled mess. You should push him away again, should shove him back and yell in his face, but instead, you find yourself kissing him back just as fiercely, your hands fisting in his shirt. Itâs like all the anger, all the arguments have boiled over into thisâthis raw, heated clash of mouths and tongues.
When you finally pull apart, both of you are panting, breaths coming fast, and his forehead rests against yours, his eyes still dark with emotion.
âWhy do you care?â you whisper again, but this time your voice is softer, less certain.
His thumb brushes your cheek, and his gaze is intense, almost searching. âI donât know,â he mutters, but thereâs something vulnerable in his tone, something that makes your heart ache even as your anger simmers beneath the surface.
âMaybe Iâm frustratedâŠso damn frustrated becauseââ He hesitates, a half-smile tugging at his lips. ââbecause youâve got a way of getting under my skin, and itâs driving me crazy. But yeah, there it is. Iâm worried. Happy?â
His lips are so close you can feel his breath on your skin, and for a moment, itâs like the whole world has narrowed to just the two of you, trapped together in this cave, trapped by something you canât name.
"Bell..." you start, but he silences you again, this time with a softer kiss, one that seems to ask for something instead of demand it.
His hands slips down to the curve of your waist pulling you even closer, and you feel a shiver run down your spine, heat pounding low in your belly.
Your hands find their way to his hair, fingers locking on his dark strands. The kids deepens, growing more urgent, desperate, as if both of you are trying to pour all this unspoken feelings into a single, shared breath.
And you know that whatever this is, you are not ready to stop it. Not yet.
#misscherry 26's answers#misscherry 26's requests#bellamy blake angst#bellamy blake x reader#bellamy blake#bellamy blake x you#bellamy blake x female reader#bellamy blake x y/n#bellamy blake imagine#Bellamy Blake fic#the 100 bellamy#bellamy blake smut
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colour me in: blooming | jjk (m)
Summary: You're the flower blossoming in Jungkook's living room, no matter how relentless the rain. And you're the sun he tirelessly orbits â warm as a home.
âł pairing: Jungkook x reader âł rating: 18+ âł genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; hints of angst, fluff overload, suggestive âł warnings: full jk pov!, fluff fluff fluff, but also crying, bits of insecurities, mommy and daddy issues, their friendddsss <3, oc's favourite blanket smells like him <3, his feelings for her are consuming him in a gorgeous way đ„ș, grocery shopping đ and then a housewarming party, jk chocolate chip nips appreciation (oc pinches them lol), horniness, implied sex + implied boner, sexual tension, flirting and teasing and bickering, yearning, convos about their relationship/life, cooking together hehe, jk is so⊠jk, kissing/making out, the ending ⥠Ⳡword count: 15.6k âł a/n: domesticity is my favourite city and i never wanna leave lol. i've genuinely been enjoying fluff more than i ever thought i would. this chapter made me so damn happy and i hope it has the same effect on you guys, too <3 let me know how you liked it; feedback is always appreciated đ„ș also, there are lil sub-headings to avoid confusion with the timeline!! enjoy!! đ€ âł a/n2: even though i am a tiny bit late⊠happy birthday @jkaxl. love you so much, axelle <3 âł listen to: daylight by taylor swift (ty anon <3) | full collaborative playlist đ€
SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs
âAre you happy?â
âIâm⊠Iâm adjusting to it all. Itâs new. But so far I feelâ relieved.â
âOkay.â He pauses. âIâm sorry I didnât encourage that feeling earlier. But⊠you know. You found your way on your own, and somehow, I find that just as remarkable. If not so much more.â
âThank you.â
Silence breaks the dialogue, but there are still shreds of unspoken words heâs not letting out yet. Right on the tip of his tongue, resting quietly; so you wait. Let your weary gaze slump to your lap, blinking until you hear a rustle and aâ
âDo you want to come over sometime?â
You donât know.
So you respond in just that uncertainty, âMaybe at some point? When itâs⊠not so overwhelming anymore.â
âI understand. Hey,â another break in his speech, âIâm proud of you.â
Your heart suspends for a fraction of a moment, but you feel the seething, searing pain. Fresh, clumping up your throat.
ââŠThank you.â
THE SUNDAY AFTER THE PRESS CONFERENCE
When Jungkook locks the door, the apartment is quiet, but the living room light still glowing.
Still fired up and hot, the cool back of his hand pats his warm neck and cheek. Your name threatens to tumble off his tongue, but an oddly calm feeling advises against it. And as he carries his bag into the living room, setting it down next to a big flower pot you so wanted, he sees why.
Because youâre curled up on the couch, temple against the back of it, legs pulled in. Your favourite blanket â that you swear constantly smells like him â is draped half over you, falling off one of your shoulders.
Youâre sound asleep.Â
Jungkook recognises the pout even from afar; lets his eyes drift from your face to the hand peeking out of the blanket. Brushing a piece of paper that is holding on for dear life, attempting not to slip off your lap.
What if he never moved? If he kept staring?
Back in college, one of his dearest professors used to say, âYou know itâs art when even blinking feels like a waste of time. You donât want to spend a second not looking at it.â
That very semester is still a major component of Jungkookâs memory. Ever since, heâs seen a handful and a dozen and a hundred pieces that matched the words once uttered.
Just, never as much as today.
The sky has obscured since he left two hours ago â he wonders how fast that time passed for you. Either way, he reckons you didnât rest until your body forced you to. Because itâs not anywhere near bedtime; but the changes in your life constantly add to your exhaustion.
He wanted to help. He did all morning before you sent him away, arguing that, âYouâre already doing too much. And you hate paperwork anyway!â
To which he expressed, âBut I donât hate you or having you here!â
âJust go!â You reached to his left nipple, poking it, and he, wearing a frisky smirk, instinctively threw a protective hand over it. âThe muscles demand your attention desperately. Just donât look at other girlsâ butts, âkay?â
He chuckled.
You made it sound like a life-altering goodbye to a year-long journey instead of a brief trip to the gym. He nodded solemnly, nearly saluting as he agreed, âYouâre right. Gonna make sure Iâm able to crush you extra hard.â
But it seems you crushed and knocked yourself out well enough. And that after he sent out various emails with you, drafting and crafting a battle plan, googling salient issues and their solutions, and writing down lists of everything still left to do before you can actually move in.
The two of you are lucky the landlord is laid-back. Usually, they donât let anyone move in so quickly; demand a couple months. And youâll already be settling here officially the very next.
Not that it makes any difference.
You already spend your dusks and dawns here, clinging, reluctant to go home. And he wonât tell you to; heâd be a fool to. Plus, he hates his bed cold.
Jungkookâs steps are slow, muscles painful to the touch. He sweeps his tresses back as he nears your slumbering, balled up form, soon pressing a hand into the arm of the couch. Suppressing a groan, he leans in; frees your closed eye from a lock before he plants a kiss next to it.
You stir with the softest flutter of your eyelashes, just a teeny tiny bit.
God. You tilt his world off its axis.
âBaby,â he whispers.
It must be pulling you out of the remnants of your doze, because your muscles awaken, corners of your lips twitching. The movement of your legs finally pushes the paper off the blanket, and Jungkook hurries to catch it before it can drift to the floor; places it on the table.
He kneels; and for the briefest, smallest moments, you flinch when your pupils eventually align with his. Then, relaxation floods you anew, and you grip the blanket, sliding it back over you â only for it to glide down again.
You smile â a tired beam, accompanied by a sigh. Not quite wide, because youâre not fully there yet, but still so genuine. Stretching a little, you murmur, âYouâre back.â
âAnd youâre still working,â he scolds, albeit cushioning his words by bringing a fingertip to your jaw. Flicking affectionately, softly. âDid you eat?â
âMhmmm. But itâsââ Your hand taps for something, moving under the blanket; and a second later, youâre lighting up your phone, squinting at it. âItâs not late. Gonna eat with you again. Iâm not that tired anymore.â
As if on cue, you yawn, tears of weariness collecting. You interrupt it with a gentle snicker and promise, âI mean it.â
The lopsided smile emerges on his features quickly. The drowsy, vulnerable tone in your voice caresses his heart like a gust⊠but the meaning behind it doesnât pass by him so fast.
âDonât overwork yourself, okay?â he repeats for the fifth time today alone; itâs become a constant habit. A reminder, like clockwork. âThe body knows when you do.â
âNo. I feel great.â
âJust. Be nice to yourself, munchkin.â
âI am,â you defend, attempting to stress the verb, but not quite getting there, âI am. Donât worry so much.â
An impossible demand; but how would he explain it to you?
Despite the shake of his head, he still gives in, âOkay. Iâll shower and be back in a sec, yeah?â
He waits for your confirmation until you hum in unintelligible agreement, moving back in to plant a kiss on your forehead. Rushes to the shower, washes off todayâs effort.
Wet hair strands pushed back, he finds you shuffling and organising the papers you read and filled in today, placing them neatly in the middle of the table. You look more awake now, delivering a content smile before heading to the kitchen with him.
Only, your mind might not be entirely unfogged yet â because your movements are slow. Different from how he handles the stir fry that the two of you cooked for lunch together.
You were proud of your creation â told Jungkook how youâre still far from the skills he possesses, but not bad to start with and improving every day. Seasoning better, understanding how to cut faster without hurting yourself in the process.
Itâs lovely, watching the contentment spread in your eyes.
Yet, Jungkook always makes sure to stand close to your back, hands lifted, persistently ready to salvage the situation if need be.
But right now, judging from your clearly burdened brain, he bestowed a relatively simple task upon you. And you look so cute doing it â bun all messy, shoulders slumped, sporting (after stealing) his joggers since theyâre so ridiculously comfortable, so get your own.
He side-eyes you every now and then, forbearing a chuckle; but when your lower lip juts in concentration, he canât help but sling an arm around your waist. The jug containing the iced tea shakes, and you hold the glass carefully, voicing a little, âOhâ I⊠Kook.â
Youâre wide-eyed and caught off guard; blinking when he tilts his head and leaves a kiss under your ear.Â
You raise your shoulder at the tickling sensation, and when you call his name again, your voice is reprimanding. But he could pick out the endearment even in his sleep.
Thatâs how it goes every hour of the day; sweet and new ever since you started frequenting his place even more often than before.
Something has occurred since the press conference. Two days only â but the universe has changed. Maybe it has expanded faster than ever and birthed a couple billion more stars, made even the nights brighter. He doesnât know.
All he does recognise is that unnamed, newfound feeling spreading in his chest, and heâs been unblurring it. Bit by bit. Letting it take on a form that will soon consume him. Heâs sure.
And soon, thereâll be a fitting word and definition matching this phenomenon, too.
Itâs triggered by even the smallest things.
Like by the sound of your steps when you walk through the apartment. Or by the way you hum your favourite song all the time, unconsciously; then singing the line you hold dearest to your heart before resuming to the hum.
Trust in me when I sayâŠ
Or even⊠by how youâre facing him an hour later, satiated and cross-legged on the bed as you finish up todayâs work.
Youâll have to notify the bank and whatnot of your move soon, so you need to brainstorm the relevant institutions that the new address and information will go to. It shouldnât take too long; youâre diligent, so youâll just be noting down all numbers next to the places you need to contact and then crash.
Jungkook soon takes over that task, lips moving as he reads the words, writes them down. And amidst the end-of-the-day chore, you crane your neck to read, and tell him, âYou have such pretty handwriting.â
âSo do you. I didnât know you made circles over your lower case Iâs,â he looks closer to where you scribbled, tapping the pen against a letter, âand awwh. The curves of the Tâs!â
You giggle before you add, âIâve heard a pretty handwriting symbolises inner beauty, by the way.â
âOhh, so weâre both beautiful.â
âNo doubt. We need to take more pictures⊠we look great together.â
Thatâs whatâs been filling the hours of these days, too, Jungkook supposes. The airy, light atmosphere within the four walls heâs come to share with you. Laughter and shared glances, despite the stack awaiting you â because it signifies far more than paperwork.
Which is why it surprises him when a subtle switch occurs, suddenly and unannounced.
When he looks at your fingers lifting a paper, he canât say what youâre seeing, but your ardour falters a little. Crooning dying, expression not matching the smile on the pictures you spoke of.
Delicately, you trace the edges of the document before putting it back down, aligning it with the rest of the pile. Pushing the whole thing to the side, you sigh, and he, a silent observer up to this moment, asks, âWhatâs wrong?â
âHm?â
âYouâre thinking about something. And I donât like it when youâre quiet like this.â
âOh⊠Itâs nothing.â The shrug is subtle and unconvincing, and the tight shutting of your lips so telling to him. He senses the tension before you finally reveal, âDad called today. AndâŠâ He waits; another shrug. âItâs nothing. He just asked how I was holding up. And that heâs sorry things had to escalate on Friday.â
Ah. Odd.
Jungkook would never say it to you: Because he has never been one to talk families down, sever a bond by voicing his opinion, even if the relationshipâs already hanging by a thread. No⊠heâd never say it to you.
But.
Thereâs a dull realisation in the back of his mind; and it evokes quiet anger in him. That⊠there was always a potential anchor inhabiting the same house as you, but never serving as one.
Hidden behind your motherâs back, letting it all pass â probably for you to build character.
Jungkook has always assumed that his dad did just that, too. Throwing him into the world without support, letting a seemingly irresponsible teenager, and then young adult, experience hardships in order to learn how to deal with them.
In contrast to your father, his dad wouldnât apologise to him⊠yet, in the end, morally and emotionally, both your families fucked up big time.
âOhâŠâ
You nod, elaborating, âHe wanted to know if I was going to visit him. But I need a bit of time.â
Right⊠thinking about it, you havenât seen your father in a while. And your mother hasnât blown up your phone since Friday evening â when you came out of the glass building, with equally glassy yet hopeful eyes.
You truly must have let off steam in there for her to back away.
âIs that why you were saying youâll be rushing to the house after work?â
Because as far as he recalls, youâve been talking about gathering your stuff immediately after working hours â or on Saturday mornings. Never any other time. Because you know they wonât be at home then.
âYeah,â you confirm, âI feel horrible neglecting him like that, because he seems to be glad that Iâm happy, butâŠâ
Your lips point downward; you clear your throat, but it doesnât hide the tremble in your voice, âI just wish heâd defended me sometimes. Dunno. Maybe he did and I just donât know about it? And it never worked? Itâs what I like to think.â
GodâŠ
âBecause,â you continue your vent, âhe was strict but not like her, and⊠Sometimes he did recognise bullshit when he saw it. Iâd hear them talk and he wouldnât always see eye to eye with her. But a bit more open support wouldâve been cool, you know?â
Shit, how it angers Jungkook.
The knot in your throat; how you avert his gaze; the looming tears. It all angers him.
He moves his hand to your knee, keeping his voice and heart steady for you. Simply uttering, âBabyâŠâ
âAnd⊠and then today he suddenly seemed⊠I donât know.â You take a deep breath, shaking your head. Your blinking fastens, and you vehemently dodge Jungkookâs eyes. âI dunno how casually he said it, but he told me he was proud.â
The way you emphasise the word⊠as if itâs a stranger to you, like youâre trying it outâŠ
Jungkook sighs, heart and chest heavy, muttering so kindlyâ
âOh, sweetheart⊠Ah, come hereââ
His palm shoves the papers aside some more, uncaring, and brings you closer to his body. Yearning for your embrace, he shifts with you until your legs wrap around each other. Fingers slither to your chin to raise it, and then pinch your cheek adoringly.
The bedroom light falls into your sparkling eyes, shiny with the dampness. Youâre not crying, but you sniffle for a moment.
âOf course he is,â he whispers, keeping your face upright, âwhatâs there not to be proud of? Youâre so fucking cool.â
ââŠYou think?â
âOf course I do,â he repeats, âyouâre so inspiring and smart and funny and awesome. Iâm the proudest of you, in fact.â
The heat increases beneath his palms as your cheek smoulders, pupils promptly softening. As if the outline of your irises is blurring, relinquishing the harder, unwanted emotions.
âI could probably live with just that,â you respond, managing a tender laugh and mixing it with your sniffles. âButâŠâ
But perhaps, the heavy heart wonât get entirely lighter just yet. And Jungkookâs turns half blue at the same time as yours.
âI wish my mom could react the same way instead of being so⊠stubborn. I mean, itâs a good thing that I want to stand on my own two feet! And aside from work â she also saw me in the summer, and she knew how I felt without you. She sees how I feel now with you, too, and yet.â
You puff out some air, as if youâd been dying to rant; and he imitates the release of a quiet breath, but for wholly other reasons.
BecauseâŠ
Along with the melancholy drenching your voice, the guilt shoots an arrow to his heart. Guilty about this damn summer; about the days he nearly gave up on you. If he could encase your fractured soul in a quick cureâŠ
âIâm sorry she keeps hurting you, baby. And⊠Iâm sorry you cried. Being sad over a loser like me was the last thing you needed, soâŠâ
Heâs half joking; lifting the corner of his lips. You seem to know, too, because you match his smile â still pledging, âBeing sad sucked, but⊠youâre right here now and. I do need you.â
Itâs so easy for you to tinge his entire being in a bright pink. Because somewhere in the depths of his mind, he admits that he wanted to hear this. That he wants you to need him as much as he needs you.
âAnd Iâm right here to stay,â he promises. âEven if she doesnât. Okay?â
âYeah⊠yeah. But maybe someday she can be proud, too.â
Itâs fucking you up more than he thought. Probably more than you thought.
âIâm sure,â he guarantees, âsome people accept their mindsets as the only truth, angel, but one day sheâll come around.â You only nod. So he adds, âIâll fix this with you.â
âFix it?â
âThe issues you deal with. And the ones I deal with. You and I together, okay?â
Your motions are slow. The nod is barely one; maybe because his hands refuse to establish yet another distance to your skin. And maybe because youâve tired yourself out once and for all. The slight slouch is telling; your body needs some rest.
Enough with the papers.
âYou know⊠somehow, this excites me,â he says. The grin emerging confuses you for a while; the flicker in your eyes is as delightful as the moment. âPulling out all the stops and making things better with you, I mean. I wouldnât wanna do it with anyone else.â
And heâd know. Because if heâd been comfortable enough, he wouldâve long ago; he had the chance to. Yet, the courage never surfaced â until with you.
His touch drops from your face to the side of your neck, shaking you gently before he says, âYou excite me all the time.â
Shouldnât be news to you â bearing his unceasing kisses and everlasting words in mind, his bliss is difficult to miss. Thereâs barely any containing it around you.
And maybe you know what he means; because judging from your dreamy smile, you canât seem to muster any self-control either. Feeling the joy bubbling, growing, simmering in the middle of your stomach until it explodes and youâ
Wrap your arms around his neck abruptly. Attacking him until balance abandons him, falling back onto the bed before you land on top of him. The hug is crushing, your body pushing into his with every sliver of fondness you can summon.
He could say something. Blurt more admissions dipped in honey. But he doesnât question it; doesnât comment on it. Only relishes the silence and your warm cheek against his chest, cuddling in.
And sighs in contentment.
A WEEK LATER
Youâre messing up the structured system he established for himself.
The groceries are scattered in the cart; instead of playing Tetris with them, as he usually does, youâre piling them up randomly, unaware of the mess.
Jungkook doesnât have the heart to tell you that the pack of eggs isnât supposed to be balancing on top of other products like this. Because holy shit, you are buzzing. Not because you donât know how to grocery shop, but because of the conversation this morning.
âI've got a whole list in my head. Weâll need a shit ton to make this work tonight.â
You were taming your hair as you listened; watching your reflection follow your movements â and as he readied himself for the day, Jungkook watched from afar.
Youâd decided that for now, a week was enough to mourn the loss of whatever familial bonds couldâve been. Just last night you told him that starting this new life means an opportunity to gradually leave your sorrow behind, even if it takes some time.
And in celebration of the new arc youâre so joyfully approaching, youâd decided to host a housewarming of some sorts.
Jungkookâs friends already know his place; but the pronoun has changed. This time, you want them to step into your apartment, too.
Securing a hair strand with a clip, you asked, âDo we have it all here?â
âNot everything. Gotta go grocery shopping later.â
âOhhhâŠâ
Your fingers floated to the edge of the wash basin. You held it in your grip, leaning over it a little, staring into your own eyes quietly. He checked with another step closer to the bathroom, glimpsing at the expression in the mirror.
Calm, but thinking.
âWhat is it?â he asked, pulling his jeansâ zipper close.
âUhh. Do you need help?â
âYou should rest. Youâre already doing so mââ
âNo, no, I meanâŠâ You let the sink go, folding your fingers. Inhaling for just a moment when your eyes fell on his bare torso. âI want to go grocery shopping with you. Itâs Saturday and I have nothing to do until tonight. So⊠Please donât go without me?â
The big eyes and saccharine question went straight to his heart; like one of Cupidâs pointy, sharp arrows targeting the exact middle of the organ. What else could he have done other than breaking into a breathy laugh â wide grin building a lively start to the morning.
âOf course. Iâll wait until youâre ready then.â
You raised a triumphant, tight fist, and he shook his head in delight. Diminished the distance between your bodies, a hand pressing into the back of your head before pulling you to his lips and placing a kiss to your forehead. Right beforeâ
âHeyâ ouch?â
It didnât hurt; but he still felt the fingers pinching his tiny nipples â and heard your cheeky, âWhy are they always hard? And why are you always shirtless, Jeon?â
He didnât argue that changing into outdoor clothes didnât count. Instead, the bright golden light you cast in his mind distracted him, taking him back.
Youâd said that to him before; everything has changed since then.
âWhy are you smiling like this?â you ask, holding a pack of four yellow apples in one hand, red ones in the other.
âHm?â Jungkook rubs a hand over his cheek, feeling the glee in his countenance before flattening the dimples. âItâs nothing. Iâm just liking how much fun youâre having.â
âI am! But most of all because I canât wait to cook with you today.â
Your words instantly conjure pictures of a potential evening; idyllic ones mixing with utter chaos. Rushing and cutting and serving â but for one of the very first times together. Only milestones ahead.
A higher pitched gushing threatens to fall out of Jungkook, right here in the fruit aisle. But instead, you raise your hands again, asking, âWhich ones?â
âHmmm⊠neither. Letâs get the green ones.â
You let your arms fall, a finger pointing towards him, and say, âOhhh. Good call.â
And then you proceed to complicate the cart labyrinth again. What a savagery. Jungkook waits until youâve turned around and works on reorganising again, following his system. Then, he thinks â this could be draining, but itâs not.
Because you keep each other entertained. And neither of you bothers about the gapes you receive.
Not when he leans over the cart, shoving it in teeny tiny steps; continuing when he realises it makes you laugh.
Or, when you cheer once you find something the two of you like that nobody else enjoys; accompanied by exclaimed Ohhhhs and Haaas. And not as you argue when you find something to disagree about.
It seems that you do not dig dates, and he, the friendly omnivore, takes playful offence in that. He teases you across half the supermarket until you turn the tables, picking up an eggplant and interrupting him with a,
âLook! This is you.â
The roll of his eyes only veils his amusement a little, heâs sure. Because your enthusiasm remains steady, including the impish pull of his beige Supreme beanie over his eyes and a kiss to his cheek that paints the spot in a rosy dust.
Pointing to a glass of honey, Jungkook soon fights back, âAnd this is you.â
ââŠThis is way too sweet and I do not know how to counter it.â
âRomance tends to make people speechless, darling.â
Your expression resembles an ellipsis; whether youâre out of answers or overwhelmingly affected by the selection of his words, he doesnât know. He knows heâd short circuit if you ever said that to him.
âFair,â is what you settle on, though, âwouldnât I know what brain outages your romantic ass causes.â
Youâre the model definition of a cheesy, movie-esque couple. Taehyung and Eun differ from the nature the two of you showcase; they already threatened to bring paper bags in case Jungkook and you overdo it tonight.
Canât blame them. The world is certainly pink-tinted when you bicker and jest at the register; or when you hurry through an Ikea â courtesy of your last minute plan to buy plants â to make it home and cook in time.
Just this morning, you were daydreaming about the concept of furniture retailers and how such shops allow building a home with the most special person.
And then, as if wanting to clarify your sentiments, you turned in the car, facing him as you struggled with the belt, just to say, âWhich is you for me. Iâm building a home with you.â
Jungkookâs legs still melt into a puddle whenever he remembers the softness in your words, and the puppy gaze you threw as you finally leaned back in your seat.
Which is why itâs such a shame that the clock is ticking so relentlessly.
Because your initial elation turns into disapproval only for today as you wade through the labyrinthine, time-consuming design the store is so popular for. Trying to keep up with Jungkookâs pace and hastening across the rooms.
And even then, neither of your laughter ceases; you turn the most stressful situations into deep solace. The pressure soon gives way to a calm satisfaction the moment your apartment door opens.
You set up the few plants you brought; some under the window, some on the desk in the bedroom, right next to the Beauty and the Beast rose, and a jade plant in the living room. For good luck, you said.
And then, after resting for five minutes and abandoning all further breaks, you start work in the kitchen. Which proves as cooperative as he thought â that is, until you get into a friendly argument about whether to do the dishes now or later.
âOne of us keeps cooking. The other washes up what we donât need anymore,â Jungkook explains, repeating it over and over.
To which you keep defending, âOr. One cooks one dish. The other handles the second. And we finish cooking faster and then do the dishes together.â
His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, and he whines, âIt wonât make much of a difference!â
âWell, if it doesnât, then we could do either!â
âBUT⊠it might get crowded if we work at the stove at the same time, babeââ
âYou just donât trust me with thââ
âKeep yelling at me like that, andââ Jungkook interjects, and you wince a tiny bit; but he continues a mere, barely lasting moment later, âand I swear Iâll kiss you.â
Beat of silence. Your eyebrows are still furrowed. And then, amidst the agitation, you erupt into laughter. Blend it with the chortle he canât suppress, either.
To Jungkook, the sound is akin to a song â and he could spin the record all day long.
Spoiler warning â you do not kiss. But the lively chuckles and free-spirited conversations dye the atmosphere and flavour it. Its sweetness feels like a feathery kiss, too.
And whether itâs that very unlimited sense of familiarity, gradually growing, or your unwavering teamwork at last â youâre surprised when the late afternoon transforms into an early evening, a dimly blue, cloudy sky already changing into different shades of grey.
Time passed fast; but the hour-hand on the clock still hasnât quite moved to where youâre waiting for it to settle. Because back in the living room, youâre still an hour early. Your guests are invited for around six, but you canât say when theyâll actually show up.
Seems you wrapped up work at a convenient time. Better now than late.
You kiss your teeth in the middle of the room, scanning it for something to do. Itâs clean; pretty. Plants set up, table wiped, cushions neatly set on the couch. So you remark, âWe were so stressed, I didnât think weâd be finished already.â
Jungkook, already plummeting onto the far end of the couch, pats the spot next to him, saying, âThatâs good. Gives us a bit of time to relax. Anything you wanna do?â
But you donât sit down yet. You watch your manspreading boyfriend lean back, big inked hand wrapping around the remote control. You look at the open button of his shirt, and the singular hair strands; the side parting. The mole under his lips and the big eyes.
He just doesnât notice it until the lack of a response continues.
âHuh?â he voices again, finger stopping over the power button before his eyes flit back to you.
You look deep in emotions and distracted; if he could guess, then even⊠ferociously yearning. He waits with a dancing heart until you admit boldly, âThereâs plenty I can think of that I wanna do right now.â
You fold your hands behind your back, chest out a little, legs crossing. You curl your lower lip in, nibbling at it. It affects him, and you know. He sucks in air, a hand on his thigh. Blinking at you, and then poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.
He leaves out a puff of a tiny laugh, shaking his head a bit. Nearly succumbing to the thought thatâŠ
Perhaps thereâs an activity you can indulge in before they come, rightâ
Wrong.
Jungkook, no matter how tempted, throws another glance at the clock, and argues, âStop thinking of eggplants. Theyâll probably be here soon, so your smooth-talking is not allowed to work!â
Your body relaxes, back in its prior position; you pout for a second. âFine. Then Iâll get dressed before anything else.â
Jungkook sighs in relief â close. Way too close. Tonight might just stretch his jeans if you keep this up; his blood is already abandoning his brain and putting its attention elsewhere.
But youâre well-mannered in the company of guests, right?
Only one way to find out â an hour to go.
Jungkook heaves his body off the couch merely ten minutes later.
And maybe even that was too early.
Maybe he shouldâve waited for you to trudge out of the bedroom; or shouldâve gotten his clothes and changed somewhere else. Because when he follows your steps to find a new attire for himself, too, youâre sitting at the very edge of the bed, dress already on.
Itâs not too posh; rather casual. A green cotton one, pulled up to your hip because youâre dragging transparent tights over your legs. A patch of your thighs is still visible; part of your ass on display where your panties donât reach. Skin far too empty without his kiss on it.
He doesnât know how you do it; but within a moment, you elicit a plethora of emotions in him. Burning desire; comfortable warmth; cosy affection. You look so cuddled in in that autumn dress.
Pretty. So gorgeous; youâll drive him insane.
But the craze doesnât manifest in hunger this time, but gathers in a single breath, let out in a sigh. Which⊠makes you recoil. Your hand briefly bolts to your chest, eyes rolling, head shaking. You murmur a quiet, âBabeâŠâ before resuming the task.
Jungkook watches as you lift your body to pull your tights over your ass and the dress back into place, and then reaches out a palm to you; urging yours to settle in it.
Still trapped in a cube of daydreams, he tugs you in until your grace radiates toward him, and then tells youâ
âMy baby is the prettiest ever. Ever, ever.â
You take his fawning with glowing cheeks, smile so unbelievably worth being alive as you answer, âYour baby isnât sure if she deserves this so suddenly, but⊠thankful either way.â
Your voice is an endearing mix of soft and enthusiastic. The combination that breathes life into a room. Youâre soâŠ
âGod,â he says, squeezing your hand, lifting his other fingers to touch the hem of your dress. Fixing it albeit already perfectly sitting. Then looks up; eyes dropping to your lips. âMaybe you were right. Want to kiss you stupid right now.â
And he would; he wouldnât hesitate if you didnât move a palm to his face, pressing a thumb to his plush mouth. Telling him, âNope, too late. The make up wasnât easy to do. And dark lipstick is hard to remove.â
Fuck, not when heâs kissing it offâŠ
âIâŠâ Gulp. âFine, princess.â He removes your hand from his face, towing you back into the living room. âThen, what do we do now? Movie?â
âNah⊠Itâs so hard to stop watching. Gonna kick them out again if we start now. What about⊠hm.â
Your eyes dart across the room, and Jungkook takes the moment to suggest, âOr we could have some soju already? Or wine, beer, whatever?â
âOrâŠâ
You wait. Jungkook follows your gaze to the back of the room, surprised when it falls on a peeking canvas behind another big plant pot. Oh â thatâs still there. He never took it out, and neither did you. Protecting his privacy, probably.
But perhaps itâs lighting a bulb over your head, because you soon ask, âOr. Wanna give me a house tour?â
âA house tour? Donât you know every corner already?â
âYeah but,â you shrug, rounding the couch with him in tow, âI wasnât always here. You organised the place the way you wanted to when you moved in, so youâd know it better. LikeâŠâ You point to the turned painting, âWhatâs that?â
âThatâs⊠Remember the drawing I had in my notebook? Of Gureum?â
Quite a while ago. You visited him for the first time in Namjoonâs studio back then; recalled it at the exhibit, too. Crazy how sentiments have changed. From a silly play-pretend game to damaged souls to thisâŠ
You nod.
âYeah so,â he continues, âI painted him on a bigger surface.â
Your eyes shoot open, genuine interest in them. âOh? Can I see?â
âOf course.â
Itâs not his best work, honestly; but it is close to his heart. A piece he still wants to improve and feature in his own exhibit once it rolls around. The colouring process will be interesting; itâs barely an outline yet.
But you seem to perceive it with utter fascination and sheer joy. Because the moment Jungkook heaves the canvas up, turning it for you to see, your chin drops. You gasp, mumbling under your breath, âYouâre kidding!â
ââŠDo you like it?â
âItâs so cute! This isâŠâ You lean in, taking in every detail; commenting on it. âHeâs a fluffball! Oh my god, the tongue peeking out. He looks so happy.â When you look up into his eyes, Jungkookâs heart does a thing; and his cheeks the other thing. âYou painted him from memory?â
âMmh, maybe a couple details? But I got most of him from a picture my aunt sent me a while ago. Heâs been looking much older these days and I wanted to capture him before he ages even more. Made me miss him so much.â
âAwwh, KookâŠâ You pout. âI really want to meet him one day.â
He looks at you with something knowing and so telling in his gaze; he feels it unveil through his own stare. The knowledge he possesses about something, and that you donât.
You might notice hints of it, but you donât question it. Listening when he responds, âYou will. He really is a fluffball and remembers me even after months and years of distance.â
âI love him already.â You lift, straightening your back. Watching as Jungkook sets the painting back before you add, âOkay. House tour. What else?â
âHmm. Letâs see. Come.â He leads you the short way to the cupboard, and you follow in tiny steps, like an explorer running from one treasure to another. So exhilirated. So fucking cute. âLook, theseâ and donât laugh, these are precious to me.â
âLaugh?â
ââŠThese,â he opens the cupboard doors, reaching to the far back, behind some decoration; and pulls out a deck of cards. âAre my Yu-Gi-Oh cards. I used to collect them long ago, but Iâm never throwing them away. Alsoââ
Your lips are parted, your eyes focused. Eyebrows shooting up gently, delighted when he takes out another small object from the back.
âMy Jiraiya figure that I got for my tenth birthday.â
âHoly shit⊠I really never bothered looking in hidden corners.â Yeah⊠but now that you are, youâre making this place your own, too. No, it already is yours, the way he is. He swoons at the thought. âThis is so cool. Why would I laugh?!â
âAh⊠Were you a Naruto fan?â
You tilt your head. âA little. More into Detective Conan, though.â
Jungkook wonders⊠How foolish might his smile be looking right now?
âYou⊠keep surprising me, angel,â he says â and you seem to like the praise.
Because you light up, forefinger touching his chest as you reiterate, âSee? The house tour wasnât a bad idea at all! Look at us tracking back the path of our souls, too.â
Jungkook canât help but chuckle. Youâre a breath of fresh air to be around; so incredibly tender when youâre yourself. After all those weeks, youâre finally back to who he used to know. Not as sad anymore.
Never sick of the hand-holding, he grips your palm again, voice hushed when he orders, âFollow me, quick!â The mysterious journey leads you to the closet next; back to the quiet bedroom as he playfully shushes you. âI havenât worn them in a long time, so you wonât know, but⊠Look, because the secret's out.â
You crane your neck to see what heâs referring to. And when you do, you coo and laugh straight away. Endlessly enraptured when he claims, âWahh. They were my super-favourites.â
Iron Man socks. Obviously worn a hundred times; so, so him.
His bunny teeth flash in all their glory when he smiles, dimples out and corners of his eyes crinkly. He feels you hold his hand tighter, and you pick the most supportive tone when you say, âYou need to start wearing them again! Itâs so sweet when youâre geeky.â
âMaybe youâre right.â He stuffs them back, though not to the very bottom anymore; places them on top for easy access. And then, he continues, âOkay. One more thing for the glorious house tour, and weâre done. Itâs another important sight, actually.â
âAh. Oh?â
Barely a couple seconds later, youâre back to where the trip started. Following suit when he kneels near the table; swift beam spreading over your face when he clears his throat and narrates, âThis⊠Is where I painted on you. Not on another medium, but I painted on you. Remember?â
You must. He rarely abandons paper and his usual colours like that; but you were the most marvellous masterpiece he ever covered. The most outstanding canvas heâs ever drawn onâŠ
âI do.â
Your gaze falls sideways; are you remembering the same heart on your waist that he does? And how he touched it; smeared it under the shower water. How your back pressed into his chest, unknown what feelings you truly harboured, but never failing to showcase his own care to you.
The kisses on your shoulder. The whispers in your ears. The plea for you to stay.
âOf course I do. It was so calming,â you add, âand so beautiful.â You touch the soft carpet, plucking at its tiny fibres. âYou consider it a sight at Jeon manor?â
He snickers at your choice of words, but then inhales, and very sternly says, âYeah. We also had sex here, so itâs forever tainted. I remember it felt⊠like⊠we should do it agââ
âNow itâs you saying these things!â You move a fist to his bicep, pushing against it lightly. âBe serious. Be romantic! Itâs not the time to make me want you.â
âOof, hey⊠For the record, I was being romantic! And also, I only want you more when youâre being sweet,â he rubs the spot you grazed; he barely felt it, âbut seriously. I still remember everything I felt for you. And how crazy you drove me⊠and how vulnerable you were.â
Youâre still stroking the fur of the carpet as you look into his eyes; and he sees a molten puddle in yours. Only one side of your lips lifts, but the softness in your voice is genuine, âI think I still am. Just a lot safer than before.â
ââŠGood. Me too.â
And thatâs all.
Thatâs all his mind comes up with, because all the words and infatuation are locked in his heart, moving to his fingertips when he inches closer. He raises them to your chin. Knees near yours and close the yawning distance until your lips are a whisker away.
Funny â how his strong chest holds a feeble heart. Bursting and aching, full and yearning.
If he could, heâd stay here with you forever, just like that.
But. The two of you have a party to host.
And the suddenly ringing phone reminds you of it. Makes you flinch until your noses and foreheads touch, and you laugh, rubbing them as you tap the couch for the device. The two of you lean against the sofa, cosy on the carpet as you pick up.
He hears Eunâs voice announce through the phone, âWeâre all here. Just a warning, because you better not be naked.â
You shoot a glance toward Jungkook. He snorts, and you start, âWhy would weâŠâ
ââCause weâre early for once. Taehyung didnât need as much time with his hair today. So be prepared.â
Jungkook nods in confirmation. Taehyung usually needs to be told an earlier time when invited to an event or get-together.
There are sounds in the background, and he readies himself to register another voice. But not a second later, the doorbell chimes. Guess the two of you will have to wait with the bare devotion.Â
Because for now, itâs time to indulge the gang. Let them stream in with vibrant greetings, wrapped gifts, endless booze and sweets as irresistible as you.
Jimin is the only guest coming in a little later, rushing straight from his shift. And Jungkook recognises quickly that heâs not Jiminâs first pick for conversation after a timid handshake and parting of ways.
Thereâs no enmity between them; Jungkook reckons itâs more the awkwardness from the Blue Night still lingering between Jimin and him. Maybe even some leftover guilt about how he used to perceive the younger man.
At least, itâs strange when he, eventually, does take a seat on the couch, separated from Jungkook only by a healing Yoongi. Youâre busy talking to Eun, and Taehyung has escaped to the bathroom. Yoongi maintains a healthy atmosphere with casual talks and soft jokes.
But even if somewhat reluctantly, it seems that Jimin is at least trying when he leans back on the couch, enabling a better view to Jungkook as he asks, âDid you paint that one?â
Jungkook follows the finger pointing at the wall next to the window; nothing too out of the ordinary. Just colourful flowers. Itâs okay. Better this than nothing to warm up to each other.
Turning on the couch, Jungkook waves a hand in denial as he explains, âAh, no, no. She bought it because she thought itâs cute.â
âBut you could paint that, too,â Yoongi argues, followed by Jungkookâs shy, âI guess.â
âOhh, okay, okay. Well, since weâre talking about it. Even if you didnât paint it,â Jimin says, âbeen wanting to tell you that I loved your exhibit stuff. Uhm, Eun showed me pictures. Hope thatâs okay.â
Thatâs surprising. Jungkook considers himself gifted in this sense, butâ having someone actually boast about his work for him makes him feel⊠accomplished? Appreciated.
No wonder you hold your friends in such high regard.
âYeah! Of course. Thank you, Jimin.â
âItâs a pretty place, by the way.â
Yoongi wiggles a finger back and forth with an agreeing nod, snacking away, a quiet listener for the time being. Thereâs something amusing about it; makes Jungkook smile as he tells Jimin, âThanks. And Iâm glad you could come. Can imagine workâs a lot, soâŠâ
âYeah. No worries. Everything for our girl.â
Jungkook hums as the chat dies and the awkwardness returns. And then, he remembersâ
Speaking of â where are you again? Still in the kitchen? Seems so. Or at least, moving away from it bit by bit.
Immersed in a conversation, holding the frame of the living room door, at the threshold to the anteroom. Youâre discussing something with Eun, your expression focused. He canât really make out your words because of those exchanged between Jimin and Yoongi, butâŠ
A moment later, you do look at him. And then away again immediately â as if he caught you. A motion of your hand waves whatever cryptic topic off; and intrigued, Jungkook comes to a stand.
In vain â because Taehyung returns the same moment, babbling about whatever Yoongi just said. And you use the opportunity to march into the room, asking Jungkook to help you set the table for dinner.
To his chagrin, most of them offer to help momentarily. Taehyung swarms around you, insisting on plating, making it impossible for Jungkook to find a moment to ask what your conversation was about. And eventually, he gives up â if itâs important, youâll tell him.
So for now, he relishes the evening your friends grant the two of you. They compliment the food, narrate short and long stories, watching Jungkook and you unwrap the gifts â board games from Jimin, cutting boards and wine from Yoongi, a stylish, modern thermostat from Taehyung and Eun.
The ecstasy overflows, the screeches probably making your neighbours think of you unhinged. Wine spills on the table; curses exchange; laughing turns into crying.
If anything other than this life is considered good, then Jungkook doesnât crave that goodness. The unbridled chuckles, and your never-dropping smile are beyond everything twinkling and gorgeous already.
And heâs happy, too. Elated when you cover your mouth when you laugh; and overjoyed when you stand at the window after dinner, leaning forward. Breathing in the autumn air.
Jungkook follows once things wind down and the guests agree upon an appropriate volume. He mimics your stance, lower arms on the windowsill and hands hanging relaxed.
His fingers graze the withering flowers in the window box. Theyâre slowly dying by the hands of the approaching cold, and the rain keeps overwatering them. Yet⊠they still let it hurt them, holding on for as long as possible.
So in love with the shower.
Itâs almost a bit tragic.
Jungkook refocuses, turning to you and asks, âWhat are you doing?â
Your head moves to the side, and you kill the remaining distance between you. Step close until youâre nearly nudging his elbow.
âJust,â you nod into a haphazard direction; into the outside world, âlooking at the rain. Got a bit stifling in there.â
âYeah.â Jungkook throws a glance over his shoulder. âAlso, I think theyâre getting drunk.â
âMhmmm. Except Jimin. Poor him is looking at the alcohol so longingly. Did you notice that he didnât drink?â
âSomeone has to drive them home, and Yoongi with his healing injury is out. I offered, but Jimin insisted on taking care of them and not, as he said, bothering us. Super thoughtful, really.â
You smile, nodding along before you silence. He doesnât know what youâre thinking of; or what youâre seeing. Maybe youâre truly only revelling in the rain; contrasting it with the sunshine you radiate.
Maybe he should look for a rainbow somewhere.
In the midst of the tranquil evening, your gape strays from the drizzle with a blink. It descends to his twirling thumbs, and then moves along the length of his arm. Jungkook notices your attention from the side, but only turns to look at you when he realises what youâve fixated on.
You gesture towards the hues and outlines on his skin, delicately touching the writhing snake as you say, âWant a tour for them, too, if youâd ever allow. I imagine it could be fun.â
âTattoo tracing?â His lips move into an endeared smile; you look so fascinated. Like youâre seeing them for the first time. âIâd be down. I could evenâŠâ His fingers journey to yours, gently leading them to the flowers. âI can even give you a sneak peek.â
âReally?â
âSure. Look.â He guides your touch over the dazzling orange of his tiger lily. âThis is me. Tiger lilies beg for love. Iâve always sought love, too.â
Your eyes change. He knows you see it, too â the urge to never be abandoned again, all the time.
He can nearly see your heart ache. And feels his own thump a thousand miles a second. A fraction of it breaks off and jumps into your chest, making it yours; it does it all the damn time until you hold the entirety of it in the palm of your hands.
Unhurried, he steers your finger further, stopping at the blue tint; clearly hears you draw a breath when he tells you, âAnd this⊠This is my girlfriend. Sheâs even prettier in real life⊠thatâs right.â
For a bit, youâre speechless. Jungkook keeps admiring you in the forget-me-nots for another second, and when you donât speak on, he meets your eyes. Youâre shaking your head, and then â slowly wrapping an arm around his, moving close, head on his shoulder.
From this angle, your cheeks are demanding to be squeezed; eyelashes kiss them softly, your lips tempting curves when you laugh. Jungkook doesnât get enough of you⊠and you donât want to make it easier for him either.
Because, âShit,â you say, âyou were right about pining more when someoneâs being romantic. âCause youâre making me want you so bad, in every way. Are you⊠still up for kissing me stupid?â
âAhh⊠babe.â
âI just⊠You excite me, too, you know?â
âDonât say these things while theyâre here, baby,â he warns, although as tenderly as anyhow possible, âyouâll give me a heart attack, I mean it.â
âNow you know how I feel all the time!â you tease, fingers flicking raindrops into his face out of nowhere.
Jungkook recoils and squirms, taken aback, but it takes him a mere second to play along. He gathers rain in his palms, threatening to toss it into your face; bickering chaos at the open living room window until your damp hands rejoin and delicate digits interlace.
And as he looks at the sad flowers again, the reality of the moment makes him think. How the two of you used to resemble the blossoms in your window box, once enduring the incessant melancholy, too.
Much like the flowers towards the downpour, Jungkook and you reached for each other while being watered by gloom â but unlike the flowers, youâre still sprouting and thriving into something vivid and fragrant. Not beaten by the agonising shower.
The rain hurt me, but I wanted to keep fighting. Because I hoped. Because I adored.
And in the end, him and you arenât tragic like them. You will never wither â only bloom.
An hour later, the apartment is empty.
You opened all the windows to eliminate the suffocating air; and the hot water running in the sink soothes your cold skin. What a relief to watch the clinking dishes lessen; you sigh at the small amount still left, and Jungkook catches it immediately.
âSee?â he teases, loading the dishwasher. Even that seems like a task after such a day; tidying up the living room was more than enough. âGood that we did most of it during and after cooking. Itâs so much even now.â
Eyes heavy, you admit, âI should learn to listen to you more.â
He clicks his tongue, skipping a response, and then, out of the blue, says, âAngel⊠I could get used to this.â
âTo me listening to you more?â
âYes. But no. To you being here.â
You glow up, even though youâre still facing the sink, smile a little hidden, âYou need to. Because Iâll be annoying you all the time.â
âOh, I believe you.â
You hit him with a spoon, wetting the spot a bit before handing the cutlery to him. Delivering a head tilt, he smirks. Amused before he remembers something and asks, âHey. What were you and Eun talking about earlier?â
âHm? When?â
âBefore dinner. It looked serious.â
You halt mid-movement. Did he catch something? Maybe. But you only insist, âNothing special. About her graduation⊠you know, since itâs pretty soon.â
Huh. Doesnât seem to quite cut it.
âMmmh. Anything else?â
You feign a thoughtful moment, as if youâve wiped your memory clean off whatever she said to you. Then, you tell him, âYeah. I told her how you played around with the recipe and came up with the best dinner ever. And how hot you looked doing it.â
ââŠYou said the last bit, too?â
âNo.â Jungkook blows a raspberry before comically pressing his lips into a line, eyebrows furrowing. âDonât look at me like that, itâs not my fault. I mean, do you know how attractive is it to be among people and know that this one person is still only looking at you?â
Oh, all too wellâŠ
âI would definitely know,â he chuckles. âShit. Youâve been testing me tonight, you know?â
ââŠHow?â
âAll those compliments and ambiguous statements.â You shrug your shoulders in apparent innocence, muttering a small, âItâs true" before he digs, âAnyway, donât distract me. Anything else she said?â
Perhaps youâre done playing games. And perhaps you shouldâve kept doing just that; because your next answer is a much greater tease.
ââŠIâll tell you about it soon enough.â
Jungkook squints, organising a plate into a free spot, playfully disgruntled, âUnfair.â
âHang in there.â
âAlright. Youâre lucky I trust you.â
Your grin is gaping wide, and he attempts his best to ignore it. But when you add an evil snicker to it, regarding him with pure mirth in your eyes, he folds, âWhat?â
âNothing. Youâre just so cute. Youâll keep acting like youâre digging, but still always know when to respect my decisions. Maybe the bar is low? But I find trust ridiculously attractive.â You throw a longing smile at him, bringing a damp fingertip to his cheek to poke. âAnd to top it off⊠Youâre so pretty, too, and Iâm just⊠enamoured from all sides andââ
You wait and he uses the moment to wipe his cheek on his shirt. But when you donât speak on, he spurs you on, ââŠAnd?â
âAnd I want you so bad.â
The plate waiting to be set into the dishwasher drops on the counter. Jungkook stares up, regarding the ceiling with a seemingly agitated look. You donât know whatâs truly whirling in him, so you warily ponder, ââŠWhatâs wrong?â
âNothing.â Jungkook turns the water off, taking the cups from your hands and placing them in the sink. He shakes his palms off the liquid, and then whispers, âOkay. Later.â
The hold around your wrist is firm, and the tug firmer. Determined, he leads you out of the kitchen, slapping a hand over the light switch; your eyes are wide when you ask, âWait, weâre not doââ
His answer is predictable; yet, you didnât foresee it. Becauseâ
âBedroom. Right now.â
THE MORNING OF THE CONFESSION
Unlike you, Jungkook has considered himself a night owl ever since he entered the bustling world of college. Settling in the city was a stirring experience, and the thrill of it, along with a girlfriend, exams and newfound friends, kept him up until the sun rose again.
He enjoyed what he did, too. Loved school, so he didnât mind the fatigued eyes during lectures. Truly one of the handful of joys that helped rid his head of the brain fog he bestowed upon himself after each long, sleepless night.
And he was an avid participant in classes despite his sheepish persona â they shook him awake, the late afternoon workouts obliterating the rest of the exhaustion. Maybe thatâs why he was so reluctant to flake out for the night, too; still energised.
But while Jungkook carried the spirit of a straight-out-of-the-high-school-freshman who disliked falling asleep early, he despised waking up at the break of day just as much.
Would groan, blinking into the sun, with no one to blame for his agitation but him. No matter how deep his fascination for his studies and how quick the fading of his initial irritation â the first few minutes of every day were pure agony.
Jungkook is still a night owl. Still wants the nights to stretch, albeit for other reasons now. But his attitude towards mornings has changed.
Thereâs a shift in his preferences now; you moved his universe by an inch, altered it so effortlessly. Suddenly, he doesnât regret rising with the sun next to him. He doesnât curse the groggy feeling anymore.
Thereâs a silky touch he seeks every single morning that his eyes open to, lips he follows with his own blindly. Youâre a permanent presence now, air and fire to his lungs, and he feels the freshness, feels the burn whenever your fingers brush his shoulders upon waking up.
He wonât need to check in at work for a few hours still; yet, sleeping in would mean losing the minutes that youâre still here before walking out the door until the evening.
Heâll sacrifice a slumber for this. Voluntarily.
And itâs crazy how none of this requires any sort of effort or pleading from your side. How all you need to do is to breathe and talk and smile and stay.
Those extra moments, no matter how fleeting, grant him a little more time on Earth with you, and he grasps it greedily. Even when you spend it teasing the hell out of him. Or, even when you wake up with scorching cheeks and endearing, high pitched complaints.
Like today.
âI still canât believe yesterday,â you say.
âItâs okay.â
âI embarrassed myself so hard. Thinking about it, can I really show my face at the wedding? Iâll probably make things worse.â
Jungkook keeps glancing at the back of your head, the loose bun shaking with your movement. Smoothly, his fingers trace up and down your back; a gesture he started randomly and continued the moment you mumbled, âI like it⊠continue?â
Sat between his legs, youâve been swaying for a while, both uneasy and amped about the approaching event. And to Jungkook, itâs as sweet as it is frustrating to see your brain fuming like that.
âCome here, baby,â he demands, content when you reverse into him. He wraps his arms around your chest, pulling you to his body, and presses a pillowy kiss to your temple. âYouâre overthinking again. I promise you, weâll make sure you have the most fun.â
âI embarrassed myself so hard,â you repeat, and Jungkook kisses his teeth.
âYouâre a clown, Iâll admit,â you whine his name, and he laughs, âbut Iâm telling you. I know my mom and that was her I-like-you voice. Which I didnât doubt for a second, by the way. Like, she really seems happy with how my life has turned out, and with whom. As am I. Understand?â
One more kiss to your scalp. He swings you from side to side, ignoring the ticking of the clock. In a few, youâll be leaving the apartment, and Jungkook will need to kill the hours until he joins Namjoon at work.Â
He shouldnât be missing you already; but he still holds you tighter. Tighter until you let out a little groan, a hand on his arm. He canât read your thoughts or decipher whether his promise helped; because you donât answer yet.
Only wait for a few seconds, allowing him to wallow in your warmth until you call, ââŠJungkook.â
âMhh?â
âTalking about life and stuff⊠did you always imagine yours to be like this? Just curious.â
âLike this?â he ponders, mentally intertwining every current branch of his life into one healthily growing tree. Heâs liking it. âWell⊠I graduated. An exhibition ahead thatâll hopefully bring me a step closer to my own studio and profession.â
You hum in pride, tapping his arm as an affectionate reward. He continues, âI do what I love, have some great friends⊠and I get to spend my days with my favourite person? Doesnât sound too bad to me.â
You crane your neck to look at him; your lips are so close to his, tilted into a smile thatâs so unbelievably you. âYou called me that last night, too.â
âHuh? Oh, thatâs right. And⊠I mean it. Like. Now that youâre here, itâs even clearer somehow?â
ââŠHow so?â
âMmh⊠whenever I used to get home, Iâd think of what to eat and of showering and going to sleep. And when I come home now, the first thing I think of is you. What weâd cook tonight. Or what we might watch or talk about. YouâreâŠâ
He feels your chest rise under his limbs; a sigh of fondness as he knows it best.
âYouâre the one I want to spend all my time with.â He pauses when you look at your blanket-covered lap, hiding your twinkling eyes. âSo itâs clear.â
âYou always sound so hopelesslyâŠâ
You halt mid-sentence, the touch against your arm tensing â much like his own heart, jumping to the next beat with a heavy thud. You shake your head; Jungkook doesnât get to dwell in further thoughts⊠still doesnât have the words for them yet.
Or doesnât want to admit them yet.
If he thought about them long enough and arrived at a conclusion, would you think heâs rushing your relationship? Would it scare you?
Better not find out yet.
So he lets you talk and listens, âAnyway. So, is there anything, like⊠more? That you want to achieve someday? Or that you think of sometimes before you go, thatâs still left for me to do.â
How fitting.
Pretending to be sinking into thoughts, Jungkook hums, letting his chest vibrate against your back, and then answers truthfully, âYeah? Maybe a couple things. Weâll see them with time when I gather the courage to tackle them.â
âLike what?â
âHmm⊠am I allowed to say that already?â More simulations, teasing you with a fake distant gaze and a hissing inhale of air. âIâm not sure. Youâll know.â
âHey! That makes me nervous.â
âNo need.â You interrupt his speech with another sound of disapproval, pulling a dorky, infectious chortle out of him; his nose scrunches up. âIâm kidding. Iâm talking about all the goals I have for my career. I donât want to stop, no matter what. Keep going and keep striving for more.â
You nod; someone as hard-working as you would understand. In a sense, youâre a role model to him, too â a sentiment that you, as you have often emphasised, reciprocate.
Yet, you advise, âJust donât overwork. Think of Icarus! We canât always get more than more, you know? Thereâs happiness in satisfaction with what we have, too. But either wayâŠâ You angle your legs, pulling them close; cuddling into him more. âIâve got your back.â
And perhaps thatâs one of the gazillion traits he cherishes so much about you.
Your position at work is reputable and treasured, and you could easily push him to work harder, too. Could want him to match your career success, because itâs more or less guaranteed for you.
But you donât. You stand by his side, prioritising his happiness and mental strength, albeit unaware of how his future might turn out. When you say youâve got his back, he believes you.
âI know,â he says, lips in your hair, breathing you in. âYeah⊠I know.â
âHmmm⊠okay,â you move on, âwhat about me? Do you have any expectations? Certain standards and rules? I just,â you reach forward, tugging the blanket over your chest and his arm, âI feel like thatâs something one should talk about. Tell me if itâs too much, though.â
âNo, youâre right. But honestly? Is it⊠is it weird to say that youâve kinda become a standard?â
ââŠIâ What do you mean?â
âI just mean that⊠Iâm never going to tell you that I expect you to be loyal and kind because itâs the bare minimum, right? Who doesnât want all that? I know you are, so I donât need to say it. So I donât have any other expectations from you; these things are already the foundation of our relationship. Just. Mmh, how do I say it?â
He thinks for a moment, but youâre nodding, as if youâve already understood. But his thoughts donât end here; theyâre just difficult to word. In his mind, theyâre clear, but upon having to express them, he doesnât quite understand the concept of language anymore.
Curses its limitations.
But then, as emotions gingerly gather to a coherent sentence at last, he tries to explain:
âRather than adhering to any rules or standards I could have, I feel like youâre building them for me. You make me have a type, you know?â He feels you dissolve in his arms as he taps between your clavicles. âAnd thatâs you. I donât want anyone if I canât have you.â
Did he go off track? Possibly. But you donât seem to mind.
Because your voice is painfully sweet and miniscule when you speak, on the brink of losing the fight against the tremble, âBut you have me. Pinky promise that you do, for a long, long time.â
Yeah⊠yeah, he does. And heâd be damned if he let this go.
Because if he ever did â if he ever so foolishly lost you again after combating these cruel storms, youâd still remain his standard. Heâd look for you in each face passing, and in every laugh sounding.
The blueprint. And an everlasting memory.
Does it make sense? He doesnât know.
And it doesnât matter anyway. Youâre right here.
âIâll take your pinky promises,â he says, overjoyed as he crosses his legs over your shins, peppering more kisses onto your cheeks, the corner of your eyes, on your ear. He speaks in between your sighs and quiet laughs, âWhat about you? What do you want?â
âI⊠I donât think Iâve ever had any expectations either, but. The wedding andââ You hesitate, as if considering dropping whatever you were going to list; and then you start anew, âThe wedding made me think, and Iâ I just want to have so much fun with you.â
âYeah? Tell me about it.â
âI want all the ordinary things we do to feel special because itâs us doing them. And I donât ever want us to regret anything, so⊠I want us to be brave.â
âBrave? Well, youâre already the strongest and bravest person I know.â
âBraver. I want to live without restraints. And I donât want to overthink anymore.â
HmmâŠ
Jungkook has seen your jumbled up thoughts before. The pain you cause to your mind sometimes, and the zoned out eyes painting pictures of what you fear the most.
He knows that feeling. Has battled one too many beasts to lessen the ache; even if itâs not always possible. Even if he seeks reassurances sometimes, too. And maybe thatâs the prominent and sole reason why he never dismisses your disquiet.
Why push you away if youâre already at an impasse? Why not lead you out of the maze?
âTake it easy, okay?â he soothes, letting his grip around you fall bit by bit to search for your fingers instead. âRestraints canât beat us.â
âYeah! Iâm hopeful.â
âYou should be.â Because thinking of all youâve fought within the span of a couple weeks⊠âYouâre the first person to show me that thereâs no reason to be scared, you know?â
âThenâŠâ You sit up, curling your fingers around his hand, lifting it mid-air in sudden eagerness. âJust imagine how life could go, right? We could go to the ocean. Oh.â You gasp, sucking in air. âOh my god! The Great Barrier Reef!â
âOhhh, thatâs actually a solid bucket list item. And then, bungee jumping?â
You nod zealously; lacking your fingersâ mobility required to list things, you instead knock your intertwined hands against your thigh each time to come up with something new. Like now, âCliffs. And northern lights, too. Iâve always wanted to see them.â
Reflexively, you look up.
Stare at the glued-on stars from last night, and the now missing projection you dozed off to. An effective visual lullaby; you didnât even stir when Jungkook turned it off, tucking you in properly. In your blanket; in him.
âHell yes,â Jungkook confirms.
âBut the first stopâs your hometown⊠and the wedding. I want to meet your family and be super awkward about it.â
Jungkook laughs, forehead falling forward against your head. He shakes it for a second, and then recalls, âAh⊠so chickens and family awkwardness. What else?â
He didnât expect this to work out before he asked you. Considering youâve barely started at Novaura, he anticipated gentle rejection. But now that itâs become a certain event in the incredibly near future, his heart pounds every time you mention it.
BecauseâŠ
You in a dress. You in his house. You, dominating over every single heart thatâs dear to him.
And it seems youâve already thoroughly thought about this, because your answer shoots out of you like a bullet, âWanna dance with you. And kiss you under the lights.â
âAngel⊠youâre over the moon about this, arenât you?â
ââŠToo obvious?â
You allow a fleeting glance back to him before your eyes fall down to his bare arm, ending in a hand clinging to yours; covered in ink, much like the rest of his right limb. He knows youâre staring at the flowers without asking.
And as if knowing, reading your soul, he doesnât find himself surprised when you suggest, âAnd then⊠one day⊠What do you think? Should I get a tattoo someday, too?â
âTotally, if thatâs what you want. What would you wanna get?â
âFlowers to match? I donât know. Maybe you can draw on me. Here,â you lead his hand to your thigh, sticking there for a while until you move up to your hip. âOr here.â
He wonders how focused your thoughts are right now. Because if they are, and youâre not fixating on the changes of his skin, you probably wonât register the countless goosebumps under his tattoos.
A giddy sensation spreads throughout his body, collecting in his chest and tummy. Memories of a nearly bare body, painted in his dozen colours returning. And then, pictures of the same hues blurring, smudging.
He breathes an exhale, insane at the thought of kissing those lines. Of lips trailing up your skin, stopping at your hip, dying a pleasant death.
Fuck.
âI⊠I would. Iâll paint you any day.â
His words come out more airy than intended, fingers itching to pinch your chin, to move your face to his. To slide down the mattress, to kiss your lips swollen, making out with you until the sun setsâŠ
But the world is cruel and too real; the clock still ticks until he realises that freezing in place isnât an option right now. So he says, âAs much as I hate to say this⊠You should get ready for work.â
You groan; thereâs something sweet about your unwillingness to go. Relatable. And it sticks until the exhaustion washes away with each second. Small breakfast in, clothes on, newfound work spirit restored.
Must be a good day approaching.Â
And youâve been enjoying the recent ones, he assumes. Despite being so good at what you do, thereâs a clear difference in how you tackle a day at Charmante versus at Novaura.
And you confirm it when he accompanies you to the entrance, bidding you goodbye until you meet again later, âWhat I love most about Novaura is that they donât feel the need to communicate everything with Mom. Theyâre their own independent world and trust themselves.â
âRight⊠You as someone equally independent will fit right in, so theyâre lucky to have you there. Makes me wonder, though.â Jungkook pauses, watching you grab your jacket from the wall hook, âAre your Charmante people okay with you being at Novaura so much?â
A COUPLE DAYS LATER
ââŠI really donât know if I can do this.â
Well, shit. Wasnât he ready to strive for more, run endlessly until his feet tired? Where is the dread suddenly emerging from?
Jungkook has barely set his sketchbook down when lightning bolts head for him.
Countering his concern with kissing eyebrows, Namjoonâs full lips purse, dimples gone as he wonders, âWhat are you even talking about?â â Much at the same time as you utter a threatening, âShut up,â pastry lifted, ready to throw at him.
Jungkook shies away from the table, ready to dodge your attack; returning when you place the crumbly croissant back on your plate. He presses his lips together before smacking and kissing them, finger rolling the pen over his sketches, but eyes fixated on Namjoonâs notebook.
âIâm serious. Thereâs so much to do until November, and I⊠how do I get so much done?â
âBut,â Namjoon knocks against the random drawing open on the table, âyou already have so much to show. And you can revamp stuff from college, too. Besides, itâs okay to try your best and be scared at the same time, Jungkook! Thatâs part of a growing artistâs job.â
âBut, are you sure Iâm a growing artist?!â
Namjoon mutters something under a breath, and you add something unintelligible to the reassuring mix. Jungkookâs worried gaze remains on the rough lines of pencil on paper, teeth repeatedly nibbling his lower lip. Baring his mole.
He closes the sketchbook, staring at the golden, imprinted letters on a dark black background. Heâs filled a quarter of it already; the very piece you gifted him for his birthday almost a month ago.
In some way, opening to a blank page serves as inspiration alone. You furnished him with something so simple yet gorgeous; thoughtful engraving to use as a reminder to hold onto his efforts.
ButâŠ
Amidst the lasting zeal, heâs been racking his brain. Because. What if he immerses himself in this, spending hours tainting his fingertips in different tints â only to steer towards failure?
What if it doesnât work out? And he ends up not amounting to much, other than trying his luck online and living on a bare minimum of a salary? Would he start tutoring young, aspiring artists?
And youâŠ
Youâre diving into a stable job, well-paid, well-known. If you end up carrying both of you on your shoulders⊠would you think of him as a washout? Grow frustrated and dissatisfied?
Youâve been repeatedly declaring your unswerving support, but what if you some day do realise thatâŠ
Ugh.
He stuck to this passion with the full knowledge he would never fall out of love with it; but now that heâs working for his dreams, the process seems so scary all of a sudden.
âAnd Iâm at the wedding, tooâŠâ he says.
He leans back in his chair, moving his pupils away from the paper and instinctively up to you. More concerns threaten to tumble off the tip of his tongue, but when your eyes suddenly flicker with disappointment, his lips shut again.
You blink, unsure, before you ask, âDo you⊠not want to go? We could totally stay here if you need the time.â
OhâŠÂ
Hadnât you gushed about the event day in, day out now, he wouldâve maybe believed your words. And in some sense, you probably do think of the alternative as okay, as long as he profits from it.
But he sees it in your eyes. And not just in yours â heâs been as enthralled by the idea as you. Which is whyâŠ
âNo,â he responds, âno. We will go.â
Because the prospect of winding down with you has been keeping him sane. Doting on you under the countryside stars, showing you all you havenât seen before, body to body dancing with youâŠ
Heâs not missing out on that, no matter what.
And god knows you need the break, too⊠especially after the utter hysteria last FridayâŠ
âKook, think about it. You need to be absolutely sure,â you argue, genuine worry in your gaze; from his side eye, he sees Namjoon nod in confirmation.
âI am. Weâll go, baby, okay?â
You donât avert your gaze; your mouth closes a little, but you stay unblinking, waiting for his mind to change. He knows because he sees the thoughts floating at the surface of your eyes.
Like youâre still pondering; of course you are. As someone whoâs been working hard for their career, even if just for a few months, youâd know. Whoâd understand if not you?
The trance lingers between the two of you, and Jungkook lifts his lips, a vow and certainty in his smile. Moment only broken when Namjoon clears his throat and encourages once more, âGive it a shot, Jungkook⊠Those high-profile people need to see what youâre capable of! I mean, weâre so lucky to have them coming to our exhibits.â
Namjoon gestures randomly, across the small restaurant as he says, âSay what you will about this city, but we lure in quite a few esteemed artists for sure.â
âWho says something about this city?â you ask.
âI do,â Namjoonâs voice is soothing. One thing Jungkook has learned about him is that his flowery mind never rests. Lyrical; not always easy to understand. âI love and hate it. Leaving it, living it.â
He pauses, sipping on his diet coke before smacking the taste away and ordering, âAsk me anytime if you need any help, alright? And be confident.â
âAnd⊠what if it does work?â
Your gentle laugh sounds from the opposite side of the table, the straw of your milkshake on your tongue. The rhythmic melody calms something deep in him; perhaps more because he understands your reaction.
Youâre just as cute worrying about things that he knows youâd ace.
âWell,â Namjoon starts, aware that Jungkook knows; still annihilating his unease, âthe guy is ready to buy your art. If it goes well, heâll sponsor you. Then, at some point, youâll be able to afford your own studio and grow as an artist. Ideally.â
âAh⊠ah, reallyâŠâ
âKookie,â your voice calls; you lean over the round table, shoving the milkshake aside, âdonât worry. And in the most unlikely case that it doesnât go as planned, know that Iâll cheer you on either way.â
âAnd me too,â Namjoon raises a hand.
Your finger swings to and fro between Namjoon and you, and your expression changes from empathic and soft to the sweetest, most gut-wrenching smile heâs ever seen. The apples of your cheeks lift, pupils sparkling when you vow, âWeâre here for you.â
HeâŠ
He could look at you all day, blinking be damned. Could pour out his emotions every second of every minute of every hour, and itâd still not match the endless letter his heart keeps crafting for you.Â
Disregarding how much of a shipwreck the two of you were last Friday, his chest has still lightened ever since; an epiphany has never been sweeter.
BecauseâŠ
The words he couldnât compose into a poem before are now an ardent confession, with rhymes and a melody and infinite beauty. Roaming his mind nonstop, caught in that baby pink bubble.
When had his senses last heightened this much?
Because somehow, he still feels the damp trail of tears he cried that night. And the heart that beat against your cheek. You, frozen against him, processing his words.
If there are ways to make him fall in love harder, youâve been presenting them all the goddamn time.
And fuck, itâs been hard focusing on anything but you.
Like, on paying. Or on upholding a conversation with Namjoon â assuring him heâd be back in the studio in a bit as he prepares to bid you goodbye for the day.
To his chagrin, the walk to your car isnât long. Itâs parked at a corner, convenient for lunch dates like these; you promised youâd join one with Joon at some point, and you did. Forty-five minutes passed too quickly. Felt like a moment.
âNamjoon is so nice!â you comment, hands in the pockets of your denim jacket.
You keep swaying back and forth, from your heels to your toes and back. Your smile and movements suggest a free spirit, but your risen shoulders and the shallow crease between your eyebrows drench you in something tense.
Youâve been like that since you suggested staying, focusing on his work.
âHeâs so wise, too, really,â Jungkook responds, close to you in case your swinging moves leave you tumbling, âlike, a cool mix between calm and dorky. Iâve been learning so much from him.â
âJeon Jungkook and his love for his mentor. You will never stop talking about him.â
Jungkook shrugs, a hand to the nape of his neck, face warming, âHeâs cool, what can I say?â
âYeah.â
And once again⊠he sees you gulp. Unsure, pupils flickering. You usually donât struggle maintaining eye contact. So he soon wonders, âAre you okay? I⊠I hope you didnât misunderstand what I said earlier. I really do want to go to the wedding.â
âHm?â you voice, chin lifting a bit before you dispute, âOh. No, I believe you. If you say itâs okay, then thatâs how it is.â
âWhat then?â
âWhat do you mean? Do I really seem like somethingâs up?â
âA little.â
âUhmâŠâ
You roll up your eyes as you dig into your thoughts. Scouring your brain for whatever might be meandering in the back of your mind. Hm⊠seems youâre not fully cognisant of the subtle change in your behaviour, either?
So maybe, it means nothing after all.
Then again. It must be something.
Because in hindsight, he didnât only notice today, but all weekend, tooâ
OhâŠ
Maybe youâre just getting used to the new developments; maybe theyâre just making you a bit bashful like him. MaybeâŠ
Okay. Deep breath. He just needs to make it sound like a joke, nothing pushy or odd or awkward becauseâ
âOr is it because I told you I love you? Have I scared you off already?â
He watches your breathing stop. As though flexing an x-ray stare, watching your lungs dry up, air stuck in your throat until it escapes through your nose. Honestly⊠heâs been feeling the same.
âNo!â you answer, tone breathy, pulling a hand out of the pocket to sprightly push at his shoulder. He barely budges. âOf course not. All that does is make me want to faint.â
Jungkook chuckles, delighted when your laugh matches his own. He doesnât always know how to take a compliment either; but you fix your speechlessness with that glow on your face. Fills his own body with fairy dust, too.Â
His dimples are valleys when your fingers move to his open jacket, grazing the zipper and filling the seconds with quiet tenderness. He doesnât know what to say to you until you let the silence prolong and then giggle into it once more.
If he could just dive into your brain. But all he has are his own, messy thoughts.
And those tangled thoughts sayâ
âAngel⊠Can I kiss you?â Now his lungs are collapsing, too. Worse, so much worse when you look into his eyes, still so surprised at every sliver of affection he signs. âI really want to kiss you right now.â
No⊠he needs to. Needs to blossom in this breezy weather. But he wonât tell you that.
Heâll just keep looking at you. One second, two seconds â until youâve raised your hands to the collar of his jacket to move him closer, soon sneaking your touch further up to his neck. A miniscule and wordless hint of approval, and he basks in it avidly.
Twitching palms hesitate for only the subtlest of moments before theyâve dashed up to your cheeks, cupping your face and leaning in andâŠ
Lock.
A picture of a lock. And of its key.
The first thing to flash into his mind.
Because how do his lips fit so perfectly between yours? When you touch him like this, delicate fingers caressing his jaw, how do you feel so much like a feather? And the damn way you sigh into his mouth⊠how you reciprocate the kiss.
He will never tire of telling you, telling himself, that you match him just like the ocean complements the shore. And itâs baffling. How perfect this feels, and how right it feels.
You do make the ordinary extraordinary.
Like a kiss that is shared a million times a day, between so, so many people. But youâre moving your lips against his. Holding onto him, tilting your head, soaking in his warmth. Going tentatively, then a bit faster, then slow again.
For the merest moments when your mouths part, you gasp, inhaling before pushing your fingers into his hair, at the back of his head. Then back against him, seeking his tongue; such soft sounds meeting his that he swears he could cry.
Cry about the shiver down his spine and the flutter in the pit of his stomach. About the world becoming a backdrop to everything in the middle of the pavement; and about how his thoughts only revolve around your shared breaths and the feeling of your warm cheeks.Â
Just you.
You, you, you.
Still too far away. Why do you drive him so incredibly mad?
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He loves you. He loves you.
Under a breath and against your soft pillows, he mutters your name; so airy that he barely recognises his voice. His tongue drags over your lower lip, pecking one more time before he establishes an intruding distance between you.
Your foreheads touch for a transient bit, thumb skimming your cheek. When he opens his eyes, yours are still shut, and youâre feeble in his grip. And then, he asks, âWhatâs wrong?â
You swallow again. Take a breath before admitting, âYouâre right. Thereâs something I want to ask you, and I was so stupidly⊠nervous about it.â
âYeah?â
âThe whole gang, they⊠theyâve been planning something. They paid for it and all, but theyâre waiting for me to give them an answer, so they know if I need to pay them back or if they should cancel or, orââ
He interrupts your ramble with a soft, âTell me, babe.â
âOkay,â your eyelids finally open up; your gaze is so hazy when you look at him. âItâs a trip. Four days, three nights, during the wedding week.â He hasnât said a word when you hurry to add, âBut, we can leave earlier. Itâs a road trip kinda thing to the mountains and the beach and. They want us there, too.â
âOh.â
ââŠYeah.â
âI⊠Baby.â He moves back, shaking his head. He was careful not to ruin your hair, well aware you have half a work day ahead of you; but he still brushes a strand back. âWere you and Eun talking about that two weeks ago?â
âYeah. And Tae also said I should be the one to ask because youâd like that. But then things happened and all the stress andâŠâ
âBut⊠even before that. Why were you so nervous asking me about it for so long?â
âBecause,â you answer, one shrug of your shoulders, âI wanted to wait and see how you feel about the exhibition and the workload. And you already have limited time because of the wedding and I didnât want to take away more of it.â
He canât help but beam; why does this feel⊠endearing? Mirrors his own thoughts when he asked you about accompanying him to the wedding.
âWe really do have the same brain, donât we?â he asks.
âYouâd think weâd learn.â
You say it lightheartedly, yet gnaw on your lips. He tongues the inside of his cheek, keeping eye contact, and then queries, âThereâs something else, right?â
âAh, just.â
You look unsure, trying to make sense of your thoughts, but your uncertainty makes him uncertain, too. So he exhales before he prods, âWhat? What what? Is it something bad?â
âNo! Just. Theyâve been wanting to do this since the summer. They never talked about it to me because you and I were⊠you know.â You kiss your teeth, and he uses the second to whoosh away the aching memories. âBut they never cancelled for us, either.â
âWhyâs that?â
âBecause theyâd say, and I quote, âJust wait.â They knew we couldnât stay away from each other even before we did.â You laugh. âEun told me that day in the kitchen.â
Even before you did?
Untrue. He knew he didnât want to live without you the moment you left his apartment, tear-soaked and heartbroken.
âOkayâŠâ he starts, âand you were worried because?â
âBecause you always get so sad when I talk about the summer. Explaining the context of the trip seemed hard to me, and I didnât want you to feel guilty.â
OhâŠ
Shit, man.
âYouâre⊠ahhh⊠my sweet baby.â He wants to hug you to his chest and never let go. But youâre already running out of time, lunch break nearing its end, so he only grips your shoulders. âYou know that it gets better after two minutes, no? Because whatever happened, I have you now.â
He flicks your chin as he has been lately; it cheers you up. Makes you smile a bit, conjures the pout away. Adding to the effect when he says, âDonât worry so much, my love.â
Another inhale. Then, you admit, âIâm sorry. I dragged it out.â
âItâs okay.â
âSo⊠would you come? Do you think you could take some time off work and all? Iâd understand if itâs too much.â
âHmm⊠Right before the wedding, isnât it?â
âMid-october, yes. We could leave earlier!â you reiterate, hellbent on assuring heâs not obligated to do anything. So sweet, how you scratch your head. âTheyâd drive on. Itâs convenient because itâs all in the same week.â
âMountains and beach, you say.â
âIf you donât like them, we can stay at the hotel and chill together.â
Shit.
His grin widens with each heartbeat; you notice, because despite your suggestions, you sound more lively now.
And yet, itâs funny youâd question all these things like this at all. Donât you remember damp cheeks and gentle touches?
Just days ago.
How he was still trembling when you left Eunâs complex. How he stopped you before climbing into the car, much like now, mumbling a timid, âAngelâŠâ
And then retracting when his heart combusted. Looking into your eyes, still red, his own mind filled with nervous fear before settling on, âNothing. Letâs go home.â
Or how you cried in the living room. How you broke down, terrified he might walk away. How his breath quivered, how his head spun, how he felt like he might throw up or faint or scare you off.
The damn sickness in his stomach until he spat the hidden words for the first time. And the pounding of his heart when you responded with a mumbled, âKook⊠How.â
And⊠how his chest constricted at everything that followed after that. Donât you remember?
In spite of every indication he threw your way â you still worry so much.
Funny youâd be so nervous around someone who wants to see the entire world with your hand in his.
What did you call it again? Wanting to be brave.
So fucking easy with you.
âHow aboutâŠâ he begins, staring into anticipating eyes, hearing a storm of cheers rumble, âgoing shopping before we leave?â
Your demeanour changes momentarily. The unsure girl, afraid to hurt him, soon finds her way back to her foundation. You light up, a hand over your mouth; your cheeks must be hurting.Â
You deliver one, short jump and then pull him back in, kissing his lips once before scattering a couple more pecks next to them. He soon finds himself pushing you towards your car, forcing you back to work, but you have a thousand things to babble about.
Heâs adoring all the bright stars in your eyes â now he understands how you feel when you see the same universe in his.
Itâs crazy. How effort is never required from your side for him to feel that way. How you only need to breathe and talk and smile and stay.
Stay stay stay.
The word sails and wafts through his dazy thoughts like a silent prayer. Begging and begging; pleading to allow him to pour all his love on you, although he doesnât need to ask. You always let him anyway.
And he guesses heâs using that permission thoroughly. Maybe thatâs why keeps craving and burning for more; why heâs been holding you tighter these nights.
His tiger lily pressed against your heart.
*head in hands* they are so crazy for each other, pls đ warmth and reassurances and support and bickering literally build the foundation of their relationship and i love them sm :') for some reason the editing process knocked me out, but i still adore this one so so much, and i hope you guys did, too!! đ„ș
feedback is always so so appreciated!! you guys are literally such a freaking supportive bunch and have kept this series alive for so long and i love you to death :( here's to the first one this year!! as always, please consider leaving a like, reblog (with or without feedback!), comments and spammm my inbox with everything that's on your mind hehe <3 any kind of msg makes my day!
and nowww!!!!! moving on to cmi: palette and VACAYYYY!!! mwah mwah đ€
#jungkook smut#jungkook fluff#bts smut#bts fluff#jeongguk smut#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#bts x you#bts imagines#jungkook fic#bts angst#jungkook angst#jungkook
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Write one where Paige & reader get into a heated argument lots of angst happy ending
From Ashes to Affection ; Paige Bueckers ïčâą
êŁà§ â summary | you and paige were known for your self-deprecating jokes towards one another, but after tension builds and threatens to boil over, will your relationship spoil or will you manage to save it?
wc ; 662
â warnings | swearing , arguments , lots of angst but w a happy ending (yay) massive tw : self deprecating joke about anxiety
my master list ăâĄ
a/n : ooof I feel like I havenât been writing as much angst lately so it was very fun to write ! enjoy âĄÌ
After a long week of final exams and nights filled with books sprawled across your desk, you took the opportunity to spend the eve of the incoming weekend with your girlfriend Paige.
Your differing schedules and commitments had left tension to build for weeks, simmering beneath the surface until it finally boiled over. It started with a harmless comment, a joke that was meant to be lighthearted, but it was taken the wrong way, triggering a chain reaction of hurtful words and unspoken frustrations.Â
Paige knew how much you struggled with your anxiety, it was something that had plagued you for a majority of your life. You two had always made self-deprecating jokes at one another, the atmosphere was light and loving, giving you hope that maybe you were moving past the rough patch of your relationship. All untilâŠ
âWell thank god having bad anxiety isn't an olympic sport because you'd definitely have a gold medal.â
You felt your heart sink, you felt tears threatening to spill out of your eyes, due to the shock at the words the blonde had just said.
"I can't believe you would say that, Paige," you said, your voice filled with hurt. "I thought you knew me better than that."
Paige's expression hardened, her own hurt turning into anger. "Maybe I don't know you as well as I thought," she retorted, her words cutting like a knife.
The argument escalated quickly, both of you saying things you didn't mean, words fueled by hurt and anger. Before you knew it, Paige was storming out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the shattered remains of your relationship.
You packed a bag, leaving your promise ring on the bedside of the blondes bedside table, and headed towards your best friends house in order to calm down.Â
Days turned into weeks, and despite your best efforts, the rift between you and Paige only seemed to grow wider. You missed her more than words could say, missed the way she would smile at you, the way she would hold you close when you needed comfort. But you couldn't bring yourself to reach out to her, to try and mend what was broken.
And then, one day, you received a letter from Paige. In it, she poured her heart out, apologizing for her part in the argument, for the hurtful things she had said. She admitted that she missed you, missed the way things used to be between you.
Torn between anger and longing, you found yourself faced with a choice. Could you find it in your heart to forgive Paige, to try and rebuild the trust that had been shattered? Or was it too late for the two of you, the damage done irreparable?
With a heavy heart, you penned a response to Paige, laying bare your own feelings and fears. You admitted that you missed her too, missed the way things used to be. But you also expressed your doubts, your fear that history would only repeat itself if you were to reconcile.
Weeks passed, and as the days turned into months, you found yourself thinking more and more about Paige, about the possibility of a future together. And then, one day, you received another letter from Paige, this time with a different tone, a tone of hope and determination.
"I understand if you can't forgive me, can't trust me again," Paige wrote. "But I want you to know that I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn back your trust, to prove to you that I've changed. Please, Y/N, give me a chance to make things right between us."
Tears welled up in your eyes as you read Paige's words, words filled with sincerity and love. And in that moment, you knew that despite everything, you still loved her too. Taking a deep breath, you picked up your pen and began to write, ready to take the first step towards healing and forgiveness.
sorry for the short post my loves !! ive been super burnt out from writing and have been suffering from writers block so I hope y'all enjoyed this one <3 as always, thank u sm for reading !
#wlw#wlw imagine#wcbb#my hcs#paige bueckers#paige bueckers x reader#headcannons#wcbb x reader#uconn wbb#paige buckets#uconn vs iowa#angst#positive mental attitude#mental health#anxi4ty
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 đđ Satoru Gojo Prince AU ⥠part four
 đđ Summary: satoru has an announcement to make to the royal court. you don't think you could've ever prepare yourself for what it could be. the two of you see each other after months of no contact and the result is bitter sweet. story summary based off of this drabble
đđ Warnings: forbidden love, unspoken feelings, heavy angst, intense emotions, suggestive flirting, heated make out, cussing, depression symptoms, misguided anger, jealousy.
 đđ wc: 4,323
đđ an: there is a surprise guest from the jjk cast being introduced.. heh. dw he is just for the story and holds no interest in reader.
âp1âp2âp3âp4âđđšđ° đ„đšđđđąđ§đ ... p5â
âHow do you like kitchen duty, my dear?â the Queen asks, the royal blue wallpaper of her study behind her head seems to shift like the ocean waves; rising and falling - dancing in the reflection of your pupils as your tea is poured for you. With a wave of her hand the Queenâs servant is dismissed and itâs just the two of you alone. The silence is unsettling as much as it is intoxicating. The kitchen is noisy - pots and pans clanging together, the repeated motion of knife hitting cutting board, and the bubbling sounds of a roiling boil. But then there is your room at night; the bed you climb into is decently soft and the covers keep you warm enough but youâre missing the noise of Satoruâs words. Before everything changed you would lay awake and replay every conversation with the Prince; your heart would pound remembering every brush of his hand or intense gaze he didnât bother to hide. Instead now even your own thoughts have quieted, leaving your night void of any stimulation.Â
âItâs been pleasant,â you respond, blowing on the hot tea youâve brought to your lips. You donât try very hard to sound convincing but if the Queen notices she doesnât comment on it.Â
âIâve heard you have been getting pretty close to one of the men in the kitchen,â she wiggles her eyebrows, like youâre her girl friend and sheâs genuinely interested in your potential love life. Youâre not entirely sure where she got such information from; but itâs been clear to you for a while now. She has eyes and ears everywhere.Â
âForgive me, Iâm not quite sure who you are referring to,â the tea is hot as you sip it, burning the taste buds youâve barely been using these days.Â
âWell, Nanami, of course,â she takes a moment to sip her own tea. âHeâs handsome⊠quite burly too for working in a kitchen,â sheâs smirking describing the man like it's the most entertaining gossip in the whole world. You guess it's not the worst thing she could potentially hear about you. All though, the worst had already been said.Â
âHeâs knowledgeable,â you tell her, stoic and devoid of any real emotion, âI enjoy learning what I can from him,â itâs a boring answer but your life is boring now. She frowns, almost a little disappointed that you wonât bite and indulge in âboy talkâ with her, but she continues on anyway.Â
âThatâs how your parents met, you know,â another long sip of her tea, âyour father used to volunteer in the kitchens just to see your mother,â sheâs obnoxiously giddy again and you canât fight the sour taste of disgust. It feels more like sheâs describing a silly little romance novel and not real peopleâs lives. Itâs almost amusing knowing that as soon as your âsilly little romanceâ got too close to her son it was no longer exciting to her. You kept silent - having nothing worth commenting aloud as you waited for her to get to her point. She didnât invite you here to gossip, your life had hardly been entertaining since 3 months ago when you were banished from Satoruâs presence. Her lips purse for a moment before she talks, âWell thatâs not why I invited you here anyways,â
No shit.Â
âI wanted to say thank you. Iâm sure youâve heard of our upcoming event in which Satoru will announce who he is courting,â you could have choked on air if you were not incredibly aware of yourself around the Queen. Instead you sucked in a quick breath. You had obviously been preparing for the event seeing as it was tomorrow and everyone in the kitchens scrambled around to get everything set for it - but you missed the part where it involved Satoru and his new potential partner. âI was incredibly worried for the future of our kingdom, and I appreciate your diligent work in securing that,â her words danced around the true meaning - but you werenât a dunce. She was thanking you for hurting Satoru - and yourself in the process. A truly noble sacrifice indeed. You had to fight the desire to strangle yourself in front of her. Â
âOf course,â is all you muster, not bothering to put on a brave face.Â
âRemember the blonde Princess I talked about all those years ago?â she says, observing her pristine nails, âI knew Satoru would warm up to her if he tried,â your tea was gone by the end of her sentence and you lacked the stimulation now required for this conversation; your uneasiness eating away at your insides.Â
âIâve heard sheâs lovely,â your throat is dry despite downing an entire cup of tea.Â
âOh more than lovely, if you could even imagine. Iâve never seen Satoru more at peace than when heâs listening to her playing piano. Sheâs quite the pianist!âÂ
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Satoru did indeed enjoy the times she played for him. The melody left no room for chatter. It was the only moment the two of them were together that he could close his eyes and rest; shutting down after hours of struggling to be present. He didnât need to pretend to listen to how her day went or care about her childhood. He didnât need to make up details about his day or share stories of his own youth that he struggled to edit you out of. He could just be. And thatâs how Satoru preferred it.Â
You would never know about it because âhow could you?â - but Satoru was a new man. Gone were the days of acting out or scoffing at his lessons. Gone were the days he preferred fencing to etiquette lessons. He now spent his time indoors because thatâs where his bed was closest. His new favorite activity was painting. It was quiet and kept his mind occupied. He enjoyed painting with the new Princess the most - she would play while he would paint and as her hands created beautiful melodies Satoruâs created melancholy works of art
She peers a glance at his canvas over the piano, eyebrows furrowing as she notices the brooding blues, âYou do realize this song is meant to elicit joy?â she inquires playfully, and Satoru apologizes.Â
âForgive me, I donât have much experience with music theory,â his brush dips into the blue oil paint before dabbing it onto the course fabric.Â
âBlue seems to be your favorite color,â she comments, her hands walking over each other as the keys come alive from her touch.Â
Satoru nods, âI do enjoy reds too. Deep reds,â he murmurs.Â
The color of his bleeding heart.Â
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When the King and Queen announce a new ball, Satoru already understands the reason without being told. He had to fix his blunder - the one where he abandoned his duties and prioritized the pleasure your presence gave him. He hadnât seen you since that day - but he was sure your face would bring him anything but pleasure nowadays. He was agreeing to the expectations of this new event without listening. It didnât matter to him anyways. His life wasnât his - this was a fact he could no longer be gullible about.Â
Thatâs why he stood there in the center of the ballroom, fingers interlaced with the Princess as he smiled down at her like she meant something to him. Because his life wasnât his and there were worse women in the world to be arranged to. The Princess really wasnât all that bad. She was intelligent, respectful, charitable and incredibly humble. She knew there was more to life than her appearance all while being a sight for sore eyes. Satoru couldnât have expected anyone more perfect for the role of his wife. With his heart now out of the picture - there was no better option than her. He could see that clearly now.
She nuzzled her head against his shoulder, hiding her blush as Satoru talked about the first day they met to an inquiring older man and that is when you finally see the two of them together. Surprisingly, youâre allowed out of your metaphorical cage - the King and Queen now fully entrusting you in the same room as Satoru after you successfully stomped out his light. Youâre with the kitchen boy, Nanami, who was the Queenâs new show pony she liked to trot around; insisting he was there to describe the new hors d'oeuvre he created himself. Neither of you were entirely convinced the Queen thought that highly of the dish - rather than the idea of having such an esteemed cook now residing in her royal kitchen. Your jaw drops seeing the two of them next to each other. You had only seen paintings of the Princess, and even those did not prepare you for the intensity of her eyes and the silkiness of her hair. You were right all those years ago; next to Satoru wearing his familyâs signature blue - she fit perfectly.Â
And Satoru. Your Satoru. He looked so sorrowfully beautiful. His jaw was sharper and his eyes were darker but he was still Satoru and that fact alone made it impossible to look away. You had no right - but your watery eyes threatened to spill over watching the Prince hold hands with the Princess. A pitiful feeling fell over you once you realized you couldnât read his expression. There had never been a day that you couldnât skim his face like the pages of a book and pinpoint exactly what he was thinking - but now being in the same room with him after so long - you realized you were no longer privy to his thoughts like you used to be. Perhaps that ability was now reserved for the woman who held his hand. If it wasnât so devastating you might have considered thanking the Queen for what she made you do. You had to have looked so silly beside him seeing the Princess in front of you now - appearing to be a piece of the same puzzle by his side.Â
âAre you doing okay?â a deep voice prods your ear and you turn to see Nanami, standing by your side with a look of worry. The Queen wasnât entirely wrong when she spoke of rumors that the two of you were close - you were in a lot of ways. Just not in the way she found most interesting. Nanami taught you a lot of skills in the kitchen. He showed you the best ways to cut vegetables and the importance of never looking away from milk boiling on a stove top. He told you stories of his travels in search of the best ingredients and his experience being raised on the country-side of a faraway nation whose people were dying of hunger. How his life as a child shaped him into who he was to this day: a seasoned cook who the highest of society paid a pretty penny to grace their kitchens. For some time you spared him the details of your life and he took it well - waiting for the moment you decided he was someone you could trust - and once you did it seemed to flow out of you and never stop. He knew all about your childhood with Satoru and how things became the way they are now. He didnât scoff at you for daring to imagine yourself next to a Prince or gawk at the audacity it must take to delude yourself into believing your life could possibly be different than those before you. He just listened while he prepared a snack for the two of you. It was cathartic being around someone who carried as much baggage as you. The two of you were stronger than ever by each otherâs side, and that is why you stood with him while he talked to the snobs he couldnât stand and he stood with you while you watched the Prince make his love interest known to everyone. âGo take a moment for yourself, Iâll cover for you,â he offered and you shook your head.
âI promised I wouldnât leave you alone with these assholes,â you say, earning a chuckle from the blond man next to you. You look up at him and all though heâs laughing his eyes donât contain humor - more concerned for you while witnessing the same display you had to. He knew it couldnât be easy.
He leaned in once more, âWell if you change your mind, I wonât be mad,â you smile at him, grateful that you werenât entirely alone in your new reality.Â
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Just like the two of you could see the royal couple they could see you too - if they knew what to look for. You caught the Princeâs eye while he took a sip of his champagne, using it as a moment to take in the scene around him until he spotted you. He didnât know what to expect when he first considered the possibility of running into you again; you two inhabited the same estate and though it was big you had your whole lives to bump into each other. Originally he thought his anger would get the better of him once he finally laid eyes on you. Or he considered that given enough time had passed, looking into your eyes wouldnât elicit any kind of emotion in him - completely indifferent to your role in his life, like all other servants. What he didnât expect was for his heart to fail him, the once slow pace now jump started with adrenaline. His heart rate was wild and his pupils dilated. The bubbly drink that usually burned on the way down had effortlessly passed his throat and entered his stomach that grew weak with just one look at you. If he wasnât careful the Princess beside him would take note of how he completely removed himself from their conversation - but careful he could not be. He wanted to curse his cheeks for warming up at the mere thought of breathing the same air as you⊠how could he be present? Satoru wouldnât have even noticed the man standing next to you if not for the way his tall form towered over you, blocking you from the Princeâs view. Thatâs when Satoru began to grow just a little more aware of his surroundings - or more so your surroundings. While he repeated the words you said to him that day like it was a prayer he couldnât help but retell before bed - lest he forget - he still fought the logical side of him begging him to accept your words as fact. But he couldnât because he couldnât accept your own interpretation of your feelings while you shook and sniffled in the stables. He believed you wanted nothing more to do with him - but he thought the pressure of fighting for your rightful place in his life was one you could no longer stomach. That was what caused him the pain he felt each passing moment. That you lost your fight because Satoru wasnât worth it. But how could he believe you lost your fight when you had no one in your life pressuring you to move on like he did - yet there you stood seemingly cozy next to the tall man beside you. Perhaps the thought of you giving up on Satoru hurt his heart less and that was why he settled on that thought, instead of the earth-shattering possibility that you could have actually wanted nothing to do with him.
So why would you have kissed him?
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It was a quiet afternoon when the two of you decided to stroll through the gardenâs after Satoruâs tea break. You often found it beneficial to have Satoru spend time outside inbetween his lessons - he would have a new found focus when given the chance to allow his mind to wander in the cool air that the spring time offered. His fingers would busy themselves with the petals of a flower and you would walk in silence beside him, listening to him ramble or letting him bask in the tranquility nature offered.Â
That day was one of those times Satoru pondered silently and you let him, enjoying the unique flowers the Gojoâs had planted from all across the globe while you walked by his side. His face was scrunched in thought and his hands were busy with the stem of a lily, using his thumbs to pry the plant open to feel around its sticky insides. You two were deep in your walk, the garden trail extending surprisingly far on the Gojoâs lawn. The estate was now hidden by the yards of thick bushes that separated the trail from other parts of their extensive property. Satoru let out a breath you didnât realize he was holding, and you turned to look at him.Â
He seemed anxious, the tips of his ears were deep red and his face was scrunched with worry. âDid you get a sunburn, Satoru?â you ask him, stopping him in his tracks to get a better look at his ears. They were hot to the touch as you inspected them but he was antsy rather than in pain from the grip you had on his cartilage.
âWhat do you think about kissing?â he asked, his cheeks turning as red as his ears. You giggle at him, not because it was random - no that was normal for Satoru - but the topic was a bit suspicious.
âWhy do you ask?â you all but flirt - finding the confidence to since you had the upper hand.
âI donât know⊠it just kept coming up in the book Iâve been reading,â he puts simply, trying to end the conversation he brought up. It was rare for Satoru to embarrass himself like such, and it was going to be hard for him to get you to ignore it.Â
âYou've been thinking a lot about kissing, haven't you?â you continue to tease, and he scratches the back of his neck.Â
âNo!â he scoffs, âJust.. nevermind,â the flower he was dissecting was discarded for a new one - his fingers plucking the petals before tearing into the ovule roughly.Â
âI donât know what I think about kissing, Iâve never kissed,â you answer his original question, engaging him back into the conversation.Â
âMe neither,â he responded, defiling the poor flower a little less since you had his attention. âWhat do you think itâs like?â Itâs your turn to blush and he definitely realizes his newfound control over the conversation - turning the tables on you as he begins to poke you about it. âItâs probably wet, right? Well if you used tongue,â youâre a blushing mess listening to your best friend describe something such as tongue-kissing and heâs smiling at you. His pearly white teeth sparkle under the sun while he continues his torture, âIâd imagine itâs warm too - and soft. Your lips look soft,â he comments and you could feel yourself struggling to hold back your bashful reaction. He knew how to work you up just like you knew how to work him up. Unfortunately he was a little bit better at it than you - or you were just more susceptible under his gaze. He comes in closer to you - you think just to tease you further and get your heart to racket against your chest and youâre not entirely wrong. Itâs hard to focus when his broad shoulders contrast yours and when you feel the palm of his hand touch your sternum to feel the pounding of your heart - you canât fathom how youâre still standing on your own. âYour heart rate is fast,â he comments, pretending he has no concept as to why that could be.Â
âYou flirt too much, Satoru,â you grumble at him, trying and failing to steady your heart beats with him so close. His breath smells sweet like the candies he eats and you canât protect your nose from the pleasant musk that clings to his skin.Â
âIâm not flirting. Iâm just asking you a question,â heâs somehow closer and his hand wonât leave the spot between your breasts.Â
âYeah. Kissing is probably warm and wet and whatever else you said,â you mumble, desperate to crawl away from him while simultaneously scared of losing physical contact with him.Â
âMaybe we should test our hypothesis,â heâs still smiling but his eyes donât match; half lidded while he observes the twitch of your lips at his words. You gulp, unable to keep yourself from looking at his own pair of lips. You note that they look soft too, even when he bites at them upon noticing youâre doing the same as him. âIt can just be a quick one,â he says, almost like heâs trying to convince you now like heâs already convinced himself years ago. Unbeknownst to him you needed very little convincing.Â
âJust a quick one,â you all but breathe out, and the two of you are leaning in without realizing it until your lips meet. Your lips feel plump against his, soft like the pillow he lays his head on at night and he doesnât want it to end. His hand meets your jaw, holding you still while his lips get used to the feeling of yours against them. Your hands come up to grip his shirt, bracing yourself while he slowly deepens it, testing the waters by slowly poking his tongue inside your mouth. You pull back, yelping at the unexpected intrusion.Â
âDo you trust me?â he asks, voice sultry and deep and you nod at him, going back in for more. He starts slowly again, pecking your lips softly before working his way up to prodding his tongue cautiously against your sweet lips. You let him in and he all but groans, gripping your waist with his other hands so he can feel you pressed up against him. You both have no idea what youâre doing, teeth and tongues hesitantly clashing as you explore each otherâs mouths. His pulse quickens when you let out a weak moan muffled by his mouth hot against yours. His hand on your jaw slowly works its way down your neck, across your collarbone, before hesitantly stopping at the start of your breast. Youâre both clouded by the haze created between the two of you, unaware of your surroundings until you hear the scurry of an animal. You both pull away - scanning the area with no luck of finding the creature that caused it. You clear your throat and try your best to pull yourself together - but itâs hard when his eyes are so dark and his lips are so red and glossy from your spit.
âLetâs get back, Satoru. Your teacher will be expecting you soon,â and off you go, with Satoru trailing behind you.
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Satoru had never felt the foreign concept of competition in regards to you. It must be the reason he felt such vitriolic jealousy seeing you next to another man. He had no time to consider himself a fool. He wanted nothing more than to see his nose smashed in and your eyes on him again.Â
But Satoru had to remind himself he was different. He was no longer the old Satoru whose emotions reigned over his logic. While the new Satoru was born through pain, it would do him good to act on the new things he learned; like patience.Â
And patience he needed when later that night he found himself wandering into the kitchen for a glass of water - expecting the room to be empty and overcome with shock when he saw you there. Youâre not alone either. The man from earlier guided your hand as you two fileted a fish. And what an odd sight it was - seeing your back pressed up another manâs chest as he carefully guided your knife against the belly of a salmon. Nanami notices the Prince first, respectfully removing his guiding hands and you look up, mouth agape at the sight of the unimpressed Prince in front of you. âPrince Gojo,â you both say, bowing respectfully at him. âHow can we be of service?â Nanami asks, still stuck in his bow to Satoru. For the first time in your life you see Satoru ponder his next words and it is almost as shocking as being in the same room as him for the second time after going no-contact all those months ago. You arenât used to him thinking so long about what to say; youâd always known him to speak his mind unfiltered. It made you incredibly uneasy.
âAre they aware you two occupy the kitchens after theyâre meant to be closed,â he asks and youâre even more confused. Satoru? Becoming a stickler for rules? Your jaw hung open just for a moment when you remembered to pick it back up.Â
âWeâre very sorry, your royal highness. We will be sure to clean up and head off to bed,â Nanami is nothing short of respectful but Satoru still canât hold back a scoff, turning his head to glance your way. His eyes miss their softness youâve always been used to and you cower under his eyes, keeping your gaze on the ground until he finally turns around and leaves.Â
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That night is the first night you let yourself think about Satoru again, now having many things to think about as you lay awake in your bed.Â
He looked⊠almost disappointed in you? You try to fight the idea of him caring what you chose to do, chalking it up to your hopeless wanting that he was as stuck on you as you were stuck on him. But you saw him tonight with the Princess; getting close to her like he only ever did with you and you know you canât let yourself get caught up in misguided optimism - Satoru had moved on and did exactly what you needed him to do⊠So why did that realization have to be so unbelievable to you?
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âp1âp2âp3âp4âđđšđ° đ„đšđđđąđ§đ ... p5â
(ty for all the support! comment to be added/removed)
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk smut#gojo saturo#gojo satoru#jjk gojo#satoru gojo#gojo x reader#satoru gojo x you#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#satoru gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen satoru#jjk satoru#gojou satoru x reader#jujutsu satoru#gojo#satoru gojo prince au#prince satoru gojo#prince gojo#prince satoru#prince au#jujutsu gojo#gojo smut#satoru x reader#royalty au#angst with a happy ending#angst
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TĂŹ'eylan âź Pairing: Aonung x fem!human!reader âź Trope: Friends to lovers âź Word Count: 16k âź Tags: mentions of sexual partners, talk of sex, size difference, fluff, Aonung's pov (kinda mega horny for her), jealously, lap sitting, accidental stimulation, masturbation (m), slight slight angst if you squint, kissing, biting, munchiness, coming untouched, p in v, nicknames (Aonung calls reader tsawksyul, which means sunlily) âź A/N: so I kinda went a little overboard with this one - idk what to tell you - i had a lot to say and ngl had a lot of daydreams during boring classes that i didnt have time to turn into writing till now (>ïč<) Also lol, I'm on holiday w my family rn so writing this at times was quite risky but anyway, HOPE YOU ENJOY MY DARLINGS, I REALLY LIKED WRITING THIS ONE <3
âââââââ±ââ°ââââââ
Never in a million years would you have suspected that youâd end up close friends with Aonung.
When you met him, shielded by the somewhat brotherly protection of Neteyam and Loâak, Aonung had been indifferent to you at the very best, and taunting and infuriating for the first few weeks in Awaâatlu.
All it took was a few skirmishes, several unorthodox verbal arguments, and one fucked up altercation with other humans for Aonung to get off his high horse of hazing the newbies.
You werenât sure if it was Neteyamâs near-death and your inconsolable distress over it, or the closeness of you getting nearly kidnapped by the Recoms (the âpretty traitorâ as the had called you left little to imagination of what sort of fates you would have met with the RDA), but there on that empty beach, watching the sun set in the safety of the village bay, left alone or maybe even forgotton, you had found his ridiculously tall form approaching.
Aonung sat slowly and silently beside your smaller, disconcerted figure. After a wordless moment, in which you continued to absently stare out at the empty horizon, he had placed a soft, woven blanket over you.
It was a little rough, but of course he didnât mean to be. Moreover, it had just been a wordless loan of something quite too large for your human figure â so much so you were practically drowning in it â but the weight was warm and reassuring, as, surprisingly, was his still, quiet presence hulking beside you.
âThank you.â
Your whisper â feeble and weak even to your own ears â would have been lost in the breeze and lapping waves, but you later reminded yourself of naâviâs superior senses, as he let out a small sound of acknowledgment, silently noting how shaken you still were.
âAre you alright?â he had asked, following your unspoken rule and also quietly watching the ocean, and more importantly, keeping his gaze from your pale, unnerved face.
âYep.â
And that had been just that.
No more words had been spoken, not so much as a glance or gesture was offered, but something had changed as the unlikely pair of you sat in ponderous silence, watching the gilded horizon.
You never really discussed the hiccup at your initial meeting (and the period that had followed before friendship was forged), but you never needed to. Aonung had wordlessly conveyed his apology, as had you accepted it.
It is an uncomplicated friendship; time spent together is full of teasing and laughter and often petty argument, and time spent apart is to gather new material to discuss, to scheme up new ways to make the otherâs life an amusing hell, and of course to just fuck around.
Which leads to one fact; Aonung is a slut.
You could tell it from the moment you saw him, even before knowing his desirable position in the clan or noting the lovesick-lustful looks the village girls couldnât tear off their faces when he was within eyesight. Itâs not just obvious through his physical appearance (although, admittedly, that is the work of the lord), but through his walk and talk and everything in between.
Even before your friendship, you knew Aonung was off with a different girl every few days, and said girl would always then labour under the deulusion she alone captured the lustful gaze of her future Oloâeyktan â something that always reminded you not to fall for your friend in his hopelessly infuriating slutiness.
It came as no surprise to you when your theory of you friend being Pandoraâs biggest slut was proved to be quite true, so you arenât entirely sure why the outlines of your love life came as quite the shock to the Metkayina man.
âTell me,â he says with a small, ponderous frown, as though something had just occurred to him, though you knew this look perfectly well to guess what he was about to say was not some casual thought that slid nonchalantly into his mind. âHow have you been taking care of yourself?â
You look wearily up from your beadings to squint at him â all stretched out and full of lazy curiousity on the woven mat of your marui. This is how you often spent the warm afternoons in Awaâatlu; you beading or mixing herbs or cooking or something actually useful, while your friend bothers you.
You were still too weary of actually swimming with people, surrounded by beautiful, tall, slim, lithe naâvi girls, and although Aonung had tried to convince you a million times, those bikinis you brought with you remained secretly stowed away deep in the darkest parts of your marui.
Sometimes at night, you would slip out the walkway of your marui into the cool ocean below, but careful that thereâs no one around to see. At least it meant naâvi were absolutely shocked to say the least when they saw just how curvy human bodies could get without your flowy clothing.
âWhat are you on about?â you sigh. âIâm perfectly healt-â
âI meant physically,â Aonung says casually. âMaintaining yourself sexually.â
Oh.
Your friend did have a habit of being carelessly blunt in his manners, but that was one thing that managed to take you by surprise.
âWhat do you think?â you laugh, throwing off your disconcertion and far too used to your friend - and all naâvi really - disregard for topics very much taboo for humans to be thrown off by the quite personal question.
âWellâŠâ he shifts closer to gage your expression, a small furrow creasing his brow. âYou are the only tawtute here, and Iâm sure even your kind have sexual needs that must be met. So howâŠâ
âDo I cope when I get horny?â you finished, raising your brows and wrinkling your nose at him. Aonung nods, throat looking a little tight but otherwise unbothered by the delicacy a conversation like this should typically have. âWhat sort of answer are you looking for, Aonung?â
He blinks, then shakes his head in a puppyish way and you grin.
âI donât just take care of me myself, if thatâs what youâre wondering,â you answer elusively.
You never told Aonung the truth. The truth that you have no shortage of Metkayina men offering to deal with your sexual desires, lost in their own curiosity of human-naâvi sexual experimentation.
And youâd be lying if you pretended you werenât attracted to them. How could you not be?
Naâvi were nine to ten feet of practically pure muscle, cloaked in beautiful, smooth blue skin and glimmering with pretty glowing tahnĂŹ. They were slim and wire, agile and graceful in their movements and talented beyond anything a human could ever possibly possess.
So, discreetly, you would indulge in all sorts of capers. It was, admittedly, a lot of fun.
Sometimes youâd be offered pretty little gifts, clumsily complimented on your human looks and talents, or even simply carried away in heated moments of pleasure and experimentation.
But here was Aonung, nearly your best friend at this point, who just heard your vague answer to his curious question.
You can physically see the moment the connotation of your words sinks into his thick skull, and his eyes widen large as Pandora and his lips part in shock.
âOh, donât look so surprised,â you grin, flicking him on the shoulder. âYou didnât expect me to sit all tight and pretty and alone while practically stranded on an island of mega hot people, did you?â
Aonung looks as though he very much did expect that, or at least the thought of you fucking other members of his clan had certainly never crossed his mind. In fact, he looks nothing short of stupefied as he stares at you.
âWho?â he demands, an unmistakable scowl settling over his face.
âReally?â you laugh, rolling your eyes. âLike Iâd tell you.â
âWhy not?â he asks sullenly, muscles tense and jaw clenched.
âBecause I know you, Aonung,â you smile. âAnd I know how you act around Tsireya with Loâak, and I donât need your stupid ass scaring away my possible companions.â
âCompanions,â he grunts with derisive amusement, before his scowl fixes once again and he furrows his brow once more. âYou do know I do not see you as a sister, right?â
âYeah well⊠donât tell me that if I share who Iâve been with that you wonât get mad at them.â
Aonung pauses, and you can see he recognises your point; at the slightest mention of a name, Aonung would be up with the guy pinned up bruised and bloodied.
âSo you like naâvi then?â Aonung questions. âEven though weâre double your height and could throw you twenty feet?â
âOn the contrary,â you say with a sly, amusing grin, âthatâs exactly what I like.â
When Aonungâs face slackens a little in shock, you laugh openly and shake your head.
âBut who cares if I like naâvi- theyâre hot and muscly, so itâs totally justified in my opinion!â you say with a wide, shameless grin. âThe real question is why the guys were attracted to me â if humans are so small and weak looking or whatever else you giants think of us, then why would they want to fuck me?â
âThat really is a whole other question,â Aonung sighs, rolling his eyes as though youâre being stupid. âBut be honest, what do you think of me-â
Heâs cut off by your pillow smacking him heavily in the face, and resurfaces to find your little frown a foot away from his.
âHey, I was honest with you,â you scowl. Lie.
But you werenât about to admit the truth â that your irritating friend is just about the hottest thing youâve ever seen in your life. You try to put it from your mind; those ten feet of pure muscle sculpted to glorious perfection only masked his stupidity and secret superpower of infuriating you with the slightest of comments or even glances.
âAnd what do you keep in that little book of yours then?â Aonung grins, looking infuriatingly smug.
You set down your beading with slight annoyance now, and you frown at your friend. Heâs sat up now, propped back on his hands, head tilted to stare at you with that dangerous gleam that makes you want to question everything, every tone and muscle in his body practically glowing in the afternoon light.
âWhat book?â you ask wearily, forcing your eyes away from his body.
âYou know,â he snickers. âThe one you quickly stash away when you see me coming, that you think no one knows about? The little one you hide somewhere in this-â
âIf you ever read that Aonung,â you threaten, suddenly on your feet with your face flushed deep deep red. God, what were you thinking trying to keep a diary? Youâre an adult! âI swear to bloody mary that I will castrate you and burn everything I chop off.â
Aonung just chuckles, and you scowl.
âIf you donât want me going back to thinking youâre an absolute dick again- leave it.â
And finally he does, reluctantly.
All afternoon you can see him itching to question you more about it, burning with the desire to find out who you had been with, still shocked by the revelation that you fucked around with people in his clan, and he never even knew.
But he knows better than to push you, so he stays quiet, watching you work quietly.
When the sun sets and Kiri drops by to offer you eat with her and Rotxo, you say a quick goodbye to Aonung, who nods and leaves.
âWhatâs up with him?â Kiri asks, raising her brows at Aonungâs fading back, which is unmistakably tense. âWhat did you do to him?â
âHe just found out about my romping around,â you shrug. âAnd he-â
âHe what?â Kiri gawks, freezing in her steps so you smack into her and instantly fall back onto the ground. âOh sorry- but YOU TOLD HIM?â
âYesâŠ?â you say slowly, confused why sheâs so shocked. âHeâs my friend.â
âSo is Loâak, so is Neteyam,â Kiri points out. âBut you arenât telling them that youâre going around with-â
âThatâs different,â you say quickly. âLoâak and Tey are like my brothers, and Aonung⊠is not.â
âRight,â Kiri says unconvinced.
Thereâs an awkward moment of silence in which sheâs clearly waiting for you to say more.
âHeâs infuriating,â you finally burst out.
âYes he is,â Kiri agrees. She continues in her pointed silence as you move into her marui, until you finally canât take it anymore.
âFine!â you snap, face flushed. âHeâs absolutely irritating in every way, and now heâs suddenly all caring about what I do in my own time with other guys? WE ARENâT EVEN A THING-â
âAre you sure about that?â Rotxo grins from the other side. âJust think about the way he acts when youâre around.â
âAnnoying and cocky?â you huff, but you know what he means.
âCome on,â Kiri sighs, shaking her head at you with affection, âdonât tell me youâre this oblivious all of a sudden. What happened to my friend who used to have half the Omatikaya wrapped around her little finger, who could charm even the coldest of warriors? Where did all your psychicness go?â
âThatâs not a word,â you grumble, hiding your unease with semantics.
âOkay enough,â Kiri sighs, pulling you up from where you had just comfortably settled on the floor and dragging you out to the entrance. âNo more obliviousness.â
âWhere are you taking me?â you moan, lazily allowing her to drag you off through the village, Rotxo trailing contentedly and obediently behind his mate.
âTo get you changed,â she says carelessly. âWeâre going out.â
Aonung wasnât exactly sure what he was expecting when he asked you that question. But he sure as fuck wasnât prepared to hear that his little tawtute was getting her way around the clan.
You were his friend. Once even friend had been a loose term to describe your relationship, but he would be lying if he hadnât know that from the moment he laid eyes of your small figure â barely even half the height of the Sullys as they landed in Awaâatlu with your curious eyes and strange clothing â that you were his.
But after some time when the two of you had warmed to one another, he had realised that he did not see you in a way that was even remotely platonic.
The reasoning for that was probably that he saw you everywhere; your face, your small hands, your little body.
On nights spent with various other girls, he found his eyes closing and his mind imagining it was you splayed out beneath him, your pretty little face twisted with the lewdest of moans. When, eventually, he gave up on trying to fuck these lustful profanities into other girls, cock in hand in the privacy of sheltered coves or his own marui, he would long for it to be your hand wrapped around his length, to feel your lips brushing over every inch of his body, sinking his fangs into your smooth, soft skin.
He tried to tell himself, all the rest of that afternoon which he spent fuming around his marui before the festivities of that night, that it wasnât the fact that you were with other guys that was bothering him. You were a free woman, free to do what you liked, free to spend your time on other men.
But on the other hand, the men of his clan were of his clan.
They were Aonungâs people - not just in a metaphorical sense of belonging - they were not as free to do as they liked when Aonung would one day lead them. And they should damn well know better than to touch you.
They had no license to have you, touch you, even look at you.
Had Aonung not made it clear enough - even if you seemed completely oblivious to it - that you were his?
Sure, he made not have had you in that purely carnal aspect that you apparently had shared with worthless spineless skxawngs unfit to be in your very presence, but the way he acted around you, the gifts he brought to you, the way he protected you with all the ferocity boiling within him, even the way his scent lingers on your skin when he canât be near you (even if your tawtute nose couldnât smell it) marks you as if not his, then at least definitely untouchable.
So what were these shameless, perverted idiots playing at?
They, more than anyone, should know how Aonung can get when he sets his mind to something. And that one is you, and heâs not about to let anyone else dare lay so much a finger on your smaller body ever again. Heâs already cursing himself for not realising all this sooner, letting you waste your time with men could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve you. Which is why â when he sees you next, across the fire at a party â Aonung doesnât take any chances.
It's a pretty typical Metkayina gathering, full of young warriors, hunters, village girls and other various clan members. Flasks of unilpay are being passed around and the air is rich with loud laughter, conversation, and other various drunken atrocities. The beach â cool in the clear night breeze â is basked in the balmy, warm glow of a bonfire. Sparks are flying gracefully up; flaming glimmers among the silver stars of the heavens.
âWhat were you thinking?â he demands in a low voice, striding straight up to Rotxo and grabbing his friendâs arm to face him. âWhy is she here?â
âKiri thought it would be good for her to come out for a bit,â Rotxo shrugs. Aonung scoffs, far too used to his best friendâs continual obedience to whatever Kiri does.
âI thought you were just going to have dinner, have a little chat, you know?â Aonung grumbles, looking away to scan the party, making sure you were far on the other side and alone with Kiri. âBut now you bring her here?â
Rotxo settles back, looking slightly amused amidst his dawning understanding, and Aonungâs hand slowly falls from its tight grip around his arm.
âAnd what is so terrible about her being here?â Rotxo counters. âSheâs been hanging around the village for ages, sheâs been to these parties before. Whatâs your problem now?â
Aonung growls low under his breath. Frustration is starting to course through him. Rotxo knows what the answer is â what Aonungâs deal is, why he cares, why his gaze canât seem to stop drifting towards you, but heâs waiting for the words to be spoken.
Instead, with a small huff of exasperation, Aonung pushes past Rotxo to approach you.
Through that short conversation that seemed an eternity, Aonung had not missed all the glances snuck covertly in your direction, shot from the corner of eyes and over shoulders and between the flickering flames separating you from most of the festivities.
You had changed since the afternoon, Aonung notices.
He didnât quite understand tawtute customs, particularly your strange clothes that frustratingly covered so much of your body that naâvi clothing would usually be displaying with confidence and adoration, but he had spent enough time with you to know he had never seen you wear something like this.
He would have definitely remembered seeing you like this.
Itâs hard to describe when the style is from a completely different species, but the thought that first crosses his mind is black. It was the first thing he notices after all, the black material cloaking over your body, brushing lightly over your soft skin.
Youâve worn things vaguely in this style before (dresh⊠cress⊠dress or something) but they had all been long and flowy and beautiful, yes, but this was so much more than that. It was stupid, actually, that only a change of outfit has Aonungâs heart seizing in his chest, throat bobbing and jaw clenched at the sight of you standing there, unilpay in one hand, the other moving to push your hair from your face.
It barely even covers your legs, and your arms and shoulders are left completely bare except for a wispy black strand that winds over your skin to vainly hold it up from your breasts. From Aonungâs view of you, he feels like just watching you is sinful. Itâs wrong, to be seeing you like this, to be thinking these thoughts of you, but he canât pull away from his view.
He had always known tawtute bodies were different to naâvi (all slim and muscular), and sometimes he found himself pleading that the next day your clothing would not be as flowy and coveraging as it always was, but heâd always beat back those sinful desires with the reminder of your positions.
But now, with the smooth skin of your thighs and slim shoulders and the ample curves of your body on full, glorious display, Aonung wonders how he ever managed to go without seeing you like this before.
You are always so small to him, but every curve of your body, in your thighs and hips and breasts and fuck.
Aonung stifles a low groan at all the thoughts flooding his filthy mind, and wrenches his gaze from the glorious glow of your soft skin under the dancing light of the fire.
And then, in several unconscious moments where Aonung has no clue what heâs doing, in several long strides to get him by your side without the pain of seconds apart from you, heâs beside you. You look up at him through your long dark lashes, and he also notices your lips look plumper and shinier than usual; the smooth rosiness gleaming tantalisingly up at him.
Not for the first time, he has to swallow a furious desire to sink his fangs lightly into your silky lips, and he immediately darts his gaze away â the method he always uses in vain attempts to stem those filthy, forbidden, longings.
âWhat are you doing here?â Aonung asks coldly, staring down at you from his metre above.
âSame as you,â you shrug. âIâm here to have fun.â
Aonung is not happy to hear that.
His glare moves straight to Kiri, whoâs watching his displeased reaction with mingled interest and amusement. Obviously, her and Rotxo have some stupid ulterior motive or plot or something, but he wonât have any of it, not if it risks other guys getting anywhere near you.
But he canât think of anything to do. If he tells you to leave then youâd doubtless shout at him and be in that pouty, pissed mood that you sometimes get into. And he canât just flat out voice the truth, not with this many people standing around, not during one of the most unromantic settings he could imagine with tipsy warriors and a blazing fire.
From the moment he stood beside you though, the gazes moved away. Aonungâs pleased to find less and less eyes roving quickly over you, and the ones that do are quickly averted when he scowls at them.
Just as he thinks maybe itâll be over â that no one will bother you anymore â people start to dance. Aonung had been friends with you long enough to know this was your favourite part of any festivity. You loved to watch the sway and undulation and grace of the naâvi in their movements, the beautiful delicacy of the clothing gleaming under the stars and tails coiling and moving in timely leisure.
And he also knows it will surely be a matter of time before you want to join in or worse, someone else asks you to dance.
So he sits gracelessly down next to you, on that log youâve perched yourself on top of. The weight of his body suddenly seated beside you makes your little body jolt a little, but you grit your teeth with a small eye roll and discreetly dig your fingers into the bark. He spreads out a little, ensuring there is no more room on the log, with you seated between Kiriâs slim, tall figure and his own broad, muscular body.
Kiri certainly doesnât miss this gesture (or the meaning behind it), but she hides her small smile with a sip from her coconut. You, on the other hand, are so entranced by the dancing that you donât notice when Aonung spreads his legs a little wider so his muscular thigh is brushing against your small, soft, slightly squishy one he wordlessly loves so much.
You continue to watch with wordless awe, and Aonung sits, contented with the fact that no one has dared approach yet.
Yet when some stupid warrior â Tsuâkae, Aonung thinks his name is â blantantly turns to stare at you with shameless, disgustingly lustful interest, Aonung decides he has to step it up. Has he not made it fucking clear enough that you are his?
Slowly so he doesnât attract too much of your attention, Aonung leans back and slips his arm to rest on his hands on either side of his body. This way, youâre closed in between his firmly planted hand and his own body, without any space on the log for anyone else.
When you finally notice Aonungâs stretched out into your space, you grumble faintly about his stupid giant body and his lack of care for personal space, but you settle back to rest your head lightly against his arm behind you.
Aonung tries not to tense, completely unprepared for your comfort against him, thrown of by your soft hair cascading and your face resting gently against his arm, lips inches away from brushing his skin yet your breath ghosts warm and present against him.
âItâs beautiful,â you whisper faintly to him, and he tries to ignore the fact that each word is whispered nearly right against his veins, as though your voice is coursing straight to his heart. You shiver lightly beside him.
âYeah,â he replies in a low voice, throat feeling quite tight and strained; it isnât exactly easy to scare off any other guys when heâs already about to explode just having you this close.
He feels slightly stupid; youâre watching the dances with awe and appreciation and a distant melancholy, desirous longing, and of course, heâs watching you. With equal ferocity, just excelling past with unbearable, flaming tendrils of frustrated craving snaking through his veins, seizing his heart and freezing his mind.
Itâs only when he finally manages to tear his gaze away from you, with the same effort it takes to fell an akula, that he notices Tsuâkae is no longer on the sand amidst the dancing Metkayina. In fact, heâs on the outskirts, conspicuously sliding closer with slimy, transparent steps to get closer to you.
With a fierce stab of selfishness for what is his, Aonung finds his arm â the one caging you beside him â sweeping closer and bringing you with it, so youâre gently slid along the long till youâre pressed against his solid side.
You squint up at him with slight suspicious confusion, and he almost misses that little tense, gleam in your eyes. He can also hear the gentle, warm beats of your heart pick up, but he puts all the possibilities of reasonings of that from his mind to watch with cold irritation as Tsuâkae finally makes his way besides you.
âMay I sit here?â he asks, glancing dubiously at the log.
Aonung, with a sudden desire to kick himself for his carelessness, realises to late that in pulling you towards him, he mistakenly left space on the log for someone to sit.
Unfortunately, Tsuâkae misses Aonungâs glower, which was a clear dismissal of the inferior warrior. You, finally, seemed to have some tiny inkling of the situation, because you glance briefly up at Aonung as though asking if Tsuâkae can join you.
The clear answer was no, but Aonung knew you well enough to guess that your unfortunate habit of masterfully ignoring unspoken orders may be about to be practised. Instead, he settled himself on a much more enjoyable option.
âSure,â he rumbles to Tsuâkae, who looks a little startled, as though he wasnât expecting to get personally addressed by Aonung.
Before he can sit beside you on the log, Aonungâs reaching over to lift you up and settle you comfortably in his lap. You let out a small squeak of surprise to find yourself suddenly lifted as though you weigh nothing. Tsuâkae watches with mingled fascination and strange terror at Aonungâs plain message â you cannot have her.
Yet maybe Aonung didnât completely think this plan through.
Youâd never sat on his lap before, and although heâd often thought about it, how your squishy thighs and curvy hips would feel resting softly over his own would feel, how light and small and delicate youâd be against him, this was completely different.
He can feel everything about you. Your thighs â almost completely bare as the fabric of your clothing hitches all the way up to your ass â are pressed against his own, your skin all warm and soft and so velvety, deliciously smooth. Your body is still slightly tense despite your feigned nonchalance, and he can feel the tightness of your body resting on his.
And he can smell you. Itâs warm, just a comforting, familiar scent that he spends all day breathing in, memorising and filing away into the back of his mind where, in the shelter and privacy of his own marui in those helplessly longing night, he can build up that image of you in your imagined lewd actions for him and to him. Thereâs something over the top of it, something new and flowery you must have just applied for tonight.
He has to fight a physical urge to just bury his entire face in the warm of your neck â your soft hair falling around him â and simply scenting you to the point everything else just completely ceases to exist and with his eyes closed and heart thumping, all that surrounds him is you and your warmth.
It takes Aonung a moment to remind himself where he is, surrounded by everyone, sitting beside the still-gaping Tsuâkae. To remind himself that it isnât just the two of you alone, and especially that you are only friends, and it would probably be a little surprising if he finally just succumbed to all the filthy desires that suddenly seem a thousand times stronger than usual.
Youâre finally relaxing on his lap, muscles untensing and breath coming in soft nature. The only downside is that when you loosen a little and stop sitting like thereâs a splint to your spine, the soft curve of your ass, barely even covered by your clothing now, settles inches away from his crotch.
Aonung has a small surge of panic when his blood rushes south, but he just masks his soft groan as a hum of appreciation for the dance.
Eywa, he really didnât think this through.
Never once had he taken the warnings of his mother, father, sister and basically the whole rest of the clan to heart â never once accepted that one day, his impulsivity might have consequences.
But the thought of what you might do when you realise how hard your so called âfriendâ is by you simply sitting on his lap is too much to bear.
What if you think heâs some crazy sort of desperate perv? What if you never see him the same, and everything is ruined and awkward and dangerous between the two of you? What if you tell Neteyam and Loâak and they beat the absolute shit out of him for acting like this?
Fuck.
From the corner of his eye â Aonungâs too scared to move enough to properly turn his head â he can see Tsuâkae all awkward and stupid and helpless. It should now be quite obvious his position in this situation; that he has no place here, anywhere near you.
Now getting over your surprise of being suddenly nestled in your friendâs lap, youâre starting to settle back. Youâve rested yourself against his chest, and he grits his teeth, jaw clenched and fangs sinking lightly into his lip.
Your hair is pillowing your head lightly where it rests, barely even at his chest and right below the fang of his necklace. Your back â nearly completely bare with the low cut of your soft clothing â is settled firmly against his abs, and the warmth your skin on his is oddly comforting, mollifying his slight ferocity.
The soft, sweet scent of you is closer now, more obvious below whatever that other flowery smell youâre wearing is, and Aonung tries his best to keep his breathing even so you wonât notice how heâs breathing in your scent.
But trying to act like just the proximity and scent and feel of you isnât getting him hard is more difficult than it looks, and Aonung strains his brain to think of ways to delay the inevitable of when you finally notice the ever-growing tent in his tewng.
âWould you like anything to drink?â Tsuâkae offers after a moment of tense silence that you donât seem to notice. Aonung wonders faintly if your human senses just donât pick up this sort of tension, or maybe you really are just infuriatingly, endearingly oblivious.
âYes, thank you,â you say, shifting to give him a little smile.
A fierce stab of strange jealously blossoms like fire inside of Aonung, suddenly scorching his veins and he has a sudden desire to smack that returned, almost-shy-to-hide-his horniness smirk off Tsuâkaeâs face. He probably would have, had you not leaned back against him and shimmied your soft ass to lay right over the ridge of his hardened cock.
Aonung gives a sudden jolt, nearly tossing you unceremoniously from his lap and even more mortifyingly - accidentally grinding his tented, straining tewng against the curve of your ass.
Thereâs a moment in which Aonung thinks you are about to scream at him, turn and curse him out for his lewd state. He can hear your heart pick up suddenly, see the tips of your small, roundish ears go slightly pink, watch a flush creep along back of your neck.
âDo you mind?â you grumble. âIf youâre going to try cockblocking me, at least donât nearly throw me around. I was perfectly comfortable, you bumbling skxawng.â
Aonung blinks in sluggish silence, your words sinking into his brain till he realises with an overwhelming surge or relief that you didnât notice. Eywa, heâs never been so thankful of the simplicity of human anatomical function.
 âIâm not trying to cock block you,â he says instead, and you scoff.
âPlease,â you say stoutly, and Aonung can just imagine you rolling your eyes in that amused way you always do. âYou really have no idea how conspicuous you are, dumbass.â
âI am not,â Aonung says with a frown, ignoring the human name he doesnât understand. âBesides, you could do much better than the likes of Tsuâkae.â
âReally?â you say coolly. Aonung suddenly canât picture what your face looks like; your tone is completely unreadable as though youâre trying to make it even, hiding whatever youâre actually thinking right now. âAnd what is so terrible about Tsuâkae?â
âHeâs dim-witted,â Aonung points out. âSlow, unreliable, terrible at spear throwing-â
âAh yes,â you interrupt, âeverything I look for in a hook-up; his spear throwing abilities.â
âAnd heâs obviously just horny,â Aonung adds, ignoring the now painful tent in his tewng and the heavy irony of his words. He looks pointedly across the party, and you follow his gaze to see Tsuâkae standing with his friends, drinking heavily from a flask, getting a few hyping smacks from his mates as they no doubt discuss you.
âSo someone would just have to be horny to fuck me?â you huff, turning your neck to glare at him. Aonung bites down a small groan as you accidentally shift on his crotch. âThereâs nothing else endearing about me, it would just depend on their arousal?â
âNo,â Aonung says quickly, but your scowl is deepening the longer it takes for him to find the right words â ones that donât give away his own⊠excitement. âThere is nothing wrong with you-â
âWho said anything about there being something wrong with me?â you snap, brows furrowing and face now torn between fury and something he canât quite make out.
âNo one- nothing- what?â Aonung stammers, confused at why youâre suddenly so upset. âYou are just far too good for Tsuâkae. He does not deserve your time.â
âThen who does?â you ask sullenly, slightly folding into yourself, yet you still donât pull away from your seat in his lap. âWhat about Sokzu-â
âHe is arrogant,â Aonung shoots the idea down.
âWhat about Taâru-â
âIncompetent,â Aonung interrupts again.
âOr Kayo-â
âLazy-â
âZĂ€ki?â
âSeriously,â Aonung says firmly, now frowning too. âDo you seriously think any of these skxawngs are worth your interest?â
Your mouth twitches at his words, though he still has no fucking clue what youâre thinking.
âWhat are you trying to say, Aonung?â you ask.
âI donât know,â he says truthfully.
Youâre still looking up at him, eyes large and shimmering in the light from the fire and scattered stars. Aonung swallows, gaze darting quickly down to your glossy lips before fixing back on your face. He canât look away.
âI brought you unilpay,â a voice interrupts.
You both turn to see Tsuâkae standing there, looking a little rumpled and disorientated. It couldnât have been more obvious that heâs drunk now, and Aonung doesnât fail to notice your nose scrunch for an instant before you smooth out your face and take it with a small smile and a thank you.
Completely oblivious and obviously stupid, Tsuâkae continues to stand awkwardly, before he seems to gather enough courage to ask, âWould you like to come for a walk, tawtute?â
Instantly, Aonungâs blood has turned to ice. He doesnât even look at you before snapping, âSheâs good.â
Tsuâkaeâs face falls in a small frown, and he, â stupidly â drops his own flask on the sand to clench his fists.
âI wasnât talking to you,â he slurs. âI was talking to her.â
âAnd I gave you an answer,â Aonung counters, eyes narrowing at the disrespect this meager warrior is displaying. âSheâs not going to go anywhere with you.â
Again, Tsuâkae fails to pull himself together and show the proper respect. He steps closer, face pulled into a little frown as he raises his brows at Aonung.
âAnd what are you going to do to stop her?â he leers. âIf she wants to come?â
âDo you want to go?â Aonung asks you, a small furrow between his brows as he looks down at you. Youâre all wide-eyed and wordless, eyes darting between Aonung and Tsuâkae who scowls.
âOf course she want-â
âI wasnât talking to you,â Aonung hisses through gritted teeth. âDo you want to go with him?â
Your lips part. You donât seem to have any answer to give, and you just stare blankly at Aonung, still seated in his lap. Finally, Tsuâkaeâs drunken patience seems to have run out, and his hand closes around your tiny wrist.
âCome on taw-â
Youâre no sooner pulled helplessly off Aonung than heâs on his feet, then finding his fist sinking satisfyingly into Tsuâakeâs jaw. The stupid warrior lets out a surprised grunt and stumbles back, dragging your little figure with his weight.
âLet her go,â Aonung says coolly, reaching to grab your other arm.
Itâs a little awkward, and youâre wincing slightly at the grip of each arm clutched by the two men. People are starting to turn and stare now, and youâre struggling to free yourself.
âNow,â Aonung adds.
Reluctantly, Tsuâkae lets go of your wrist with a frustrated huff, and you flinch at the angry red mark on your skin from where he touched you. Aonungâs heart thuds irately at the mark, and he gently pushes you behind him.
âTouch her again,â Aonung hisses, stepping closer to hide your nervously watching figure, âand I kill you.â
Tsuâkae just laughs, before making to shove Aonung backwards. Unfortunately for him, he doesnât shift in the slightest, and Tsuâkae stumbles into Aonung, who grips the skxawng by the back of his neck. Instantly, Tsuâkae winces away, averting his eyes and vainly trying to get away.
âPathetic,â Aonung says coolly, pulling him up to study him further. âYou actually thought youâd get to have time with her.â
Tsuâkae lets out a small hiss and brings his fist up to smack into Aonungâs cheek. It isnât particularly painful, but a blow is a blow and Aonung tosses him to the side. He slams unceremoniously into the sand, where heâs met with small stifled laughter and disapproving glances. Youâre still gaping at Aonung, who gently kneels beside you.
âAre you alright?â he asks softly. You nod, eyes raking over his face before your fingertips reach out to trace lightly over the mark of Tsuâkaeâs laughable punch. âCome on, Iâll walk you home.â
No one else makes a noise, but Aonung can feel all eyes on your retreating backs as he leads you away. He can still feel the burn of disbelieving attention on him as the party fades away and the woven walkways of the village come into view. More importantly, he can feel eyes on you, and, desperate to make sure you donât feel uneasy, he places a wide hand on your back to lightly steer you in front, out of the way of prying eyes.
When he drops you off at your marui, itâs with a strange ache in his chest.
You look tired and the gloss of your lips is nearly completely gone now. You smile up at him at the entrance, but when he turns to leave, he can sense your drunkenness. Not for the first time, he curses how strong naâvi alcohol is to you, and before you know whatâs happening, heâs turned back and steered you all the way into your marui and laid you down on the bed.
âHere,â he instructs, handing you a small flask of water. âDrink this before you sleep.â
âYouâre looking after me,â you smile stupidly. Aonung wants to kick himself for not noticing how tipsy you had been in the distraction of everything, but he just rolls his eyes at your dopiness.
âWell, I didnât go to all this trouble tonight to just leave you like this,â Aonung says wearily, reaching for one of those black stretchy things you use for your hair and clumsily tying it back for you. âEywa, youâre just going to have to sleep in this.â
âI wanted to look pretty,â you mumble softly, a small furrow forming between your brows.
Aonung could have sworn those words could have punched the breath out of him â and he fights down a desire to tell you just how pretty you look, how you always look.
Instead, he just gently pats your forehead and whispers, âJust get some sleep.â
You nod obediently, never taking your eyes off his face as he fusses about, straightening your bed, making sure thereâs water beside you. But when he turns to leave, you softly whisper out his name.
Aonung turns back. You donât say anything, just continuing to stare at him. Itâs a tense moment of silence, until you finally sigh.
âGoodnight,â you whisper. Aonung doesnât reply, just giving you a soft smile.
Itâs not until Aonungâs back in his own marui, flopping down onto his bed with a groan, does he remember exactly what had happened.
Itâs filthy and humiliating, that the second he remembers the moment â the scent and the proximity and the feel of you seated in his lap â his tewng is growing stranglingly tight once more.
This has happens much more than Aonung would ever readily admit. He tries his utmost to not even think about it. But once more, he canât help but palm himself lightly through the thin fabric of his tewng that has put up quite the struggle tonight.
Eywa, just the thought of you at that party â hair flowing over your bare back, the glow of your skin and the softness of your thighs, breathing in your warm sweet scent, the same one thatâs now slowly fading from his skin that you had been so gloriously pressed against.
Fuck.
Really, who is this hurting? he justifies himself as he impatiently tears away his tewng. Itâs just to take the edge off. It doesnât mean anything.
Filthy. Lewd. Wrong.
But he canât bring himself to process all the copious issues of what heâs doing when everything about you is fresh in his mind, stuck in his mind, and using that young horny man logic that dubiously validates each of these moments, he lets himself sink into those coarse imaginations.
Thereâs a million of them, layered on top of one another, flooding and racing through his mind.
Ones in which youâre squirming under him, ones in which your soft thighs are nestled tightly around his face. Ones with your head thrown back as you top him, ones where youâre arched against the floor, tears streaming down your sweet, pretty little face as his hips rut into your own.
When he accidentally tightens his grip around himself, he imagines just how much better your hand would feel around his length, all small and silky and smooth.
Thereâs something just so filthy about this.
You are his little friend - his - but what would you be thinking if you knew he did this?
Even so, he canât help remembering just how right it felt to have the soft curve of your ass nestled right up against his crotch, and then heâs speeding up with helpless, lewd desperation.
Your lips, all glossed and plump and parted to glorious perfection swim in his mind as he fails to stifle a sharp groan. The thought of them brushing over his own, over his chest, wrapping light and tight and warm around his length does him in with searing speed.
His release, spilling hopelessly and copiously into his tightened fist, blazes with the hot shame of it.
Aonung has felt this familiar embarrassed self-disgust before, quite a familiar after effect of these nights filled with thoughts of you, but this just feels so much⊠more.
Your words come to cross his mind again; âWhy would people be attracted to me?â
The real answer is how could anyone fucking not be.
But that wasnât entirely satisfactory, because Aonung was fully prepared to murder anyone who had the foolish balls to pursue you.
His little friend.
That same blazing shame doesnât go away after a restless nightsâ sleep.
Aonung wakes up, amidst the unwelcome sunlight filtering into his marui, to find that he canât bring himself to face you quite yet. Of course, itâs just his luck that when he drags himself up to deal with the impatient hammering at his entrance, heâs met with you.
âMorning!â you say chirpily, which tells him clearly that youâve mostly forgotten the events of the night before. âTsireyaâs forcing me to come to the beach, and I refuse to go without you.â
Aonungâs about to make some lame excuse, based loosely of his clan duties and his tiredness, but then your words process.
âYou will go swimming?â he asks dubiously.
âYup.â
And that does it.
Aonung has been trying to get you to come swimming for months, and he has to fight that little twinge of jealousy that itâs Tsireya that finally managed to convince you. However, when you bound away to where Tsireya, Rotxo, and the Sullys are waiting, Aonung finds himself following thoughtlessly.
Youâre chatting animatedly with Kiri and Neteyam, and Aonung allows his eyes to quickly wander over you as he trails behind the group.
Youâve changed out of your short black clothing, though Aonung is delighted to find that once again, you arenât hiding as much of your body as you typically do.
The little shorts you are wearing are just that. Little. They barely stretch over the curve of your ass, and ties of bikini bottoms are poking up out of the low waist. The top youâre wearing â a simple white tank â is also perfectly tight enough that Aonung can see the faint outline of a triangular bikini top.
The part that nearly makes his knees buckle is the slim line of your stomach visible between your top and shorts, where he can see the perfect soft squidge of your figure, and the little jiggle of your thighs with every step you take.
When you make it down to the beach, sun warming your skin and the soft ocean lapping against the sand surrounding you, you manage to surprise him further.
You donât follow the others immediately into the water. You unbutton those little shorts and shimmy them down your body, before reaching up to tug off your top.
Oh.
Fuck.
You really had been right; Aonung had no idea how conspicuous he was.
Suddenly, after all that training of mastering himself, he simply cannot wrench or drag or tear his gaze away from you. Instead, he stands awkward and gaping like an idiot at the sight of you almost completely bare.
After so long of needing his imagination to picture you like this, seeing your body this gloriously bare could damn well killed him. In fact, Aonungâs sure even with your tawtute senses, you would surely know his heart just stopped, his blood heating, his brain stalling.
But you just shoot him a cheeky, knowing grin before innocently asking, âWhat?â
âNothing,â Aonung clears his throat, painfully aware of his flushed face. âShould- uh â should we get in?â
You just roll your eyes at him and race in. He doesnât watch the sway of your body as you slowly go into the water. He doesnât need to resist the urge to just pick you up again, maybe even help you with your breathing.
He supposes he should be impressed with your swimming, but your size and ill adjustment to swimming in the ocean â especially beside naâvi â slows you down, and eventually he ends up just offering you a hand. He highly suspects that youâre not even swimming, just allowing yourself to be pulled leisurely through the water, but he isnât going to complain.
You have this adorable little look of awe on your face, as though you thoroughly regret only now coming swimming after months of being begged to. Aonung faintly wonders why you never did come.
After a while, you all swim back to the shallows. The Sullyâs, Rotxo and Tsireya are all running and splashing around, and Aonung notices you struggling to tread water (he notices with a small smile that you canât reach the bottom).
âYou good there?â he grins, wading over to you.
âYep,â you huff, kicking up to keep your head at least above the water.
âNeed a hand?â he snickers. âYou look like youâre having a little trouble. Do yo-â
âJust get over here skxawng,â you grumble.
The moment heâs in arms reach, youâve wrapped your arms around his neck and straddled your legs tight around him. You huff a little for breath, resting your face in the crook of his neck, warm breath fanning across his sensitive skin.
Tsireya looks over, and she shoots her brother a small, knowing smile. Aonung just rolls his eyes back, but he finds himself shifting you around his body so he can somewhat cradle you â your body wrapped around his side, supported lightly by one of his arms.
âYou know,â Kiri says with delicate mirth, âwe should be heading back soon, right Ro?â
âYeah,â Rotxo agrees, looking equally happy at the sight of you (even if unintentionally so) cuddled against Aonung. âYou coming Neteyam?â
âWeâll come too,â Tsireya grins, tugging Loâak along behind her.
You watch them all go, still slightly breathless. Aonung has a small suspicion you know exactly why theyâre leaving, but you make no effort to shift away from him, and you wave them off.
Tsireya has to give Loâak and extra hard tug to pull him away. The Sully boysâ brotherly protection has always been a reason Aonung kept the truth away from you, but he thinks at this point he really just is completely conspicuous.
âAre you alright?â Aonung asks, pulling back slightly to push your head from your face.
And suddenly, he notices something.
Thereâs none of that fierce, bantery spark that blazes between your eyes. Instead, youâre just staring at him with complete and utter⊠something.
Aonung has never wanted more that you had a tail and naâvi ears so he can better gage your thoughts, but youâre just completely unreadable.
Your eyes are raking over his face; he can feel their trail burning into his skin as though you were physically touching him. Youâre inches away.
He clears his throat.
No no no.
Eventually, you tread out of the water to stretch in the soft sand cast into relieving shade, beneath the shelter of the tropical canopy. Aonung lies down beside you, throat feeling strangely tight.
There is something different. Something off.
And thereâs a sinking feeling that tells him things just wonât go back to normal. Which is why he decides he needs to settle this out.
âIâm sorry about last night,â he says quietly, staring up at the canopy above.
Itâs green.
You give a little hum of acknowledgement.
âWhat for?â you reply quietly.
âFor causing a little scene,â Aonung says quietly.
He counts seventeen little pink flowers in the tree above.
âRight.â
âAnd cutting you off,â he adds in a mumble.
He thinks there might be several birds hiding between the spindly, delicate fronds.
You donât reply. He still doesnât risk a glance at you.
âAnd for upsetting you.â
Thereâs another moment of silence. Aonung swears you must be able to hear his heartbeat. You exhale slowly.
âIâm not upset,â you say quietly.
Aonung turns to look at you. Youâre also looking up at the canopy, wet hair spilling over the sand, body glittering with the droplets of water still shining on your skin. You swallow.
âYou arenât?â he asks, trying not to sound too relieved. You shake your head slightly, still not turning to meet his gaze.
âNope,â you sigh, wearily popping the p. âItâs just- um⊠why did you do it?â
âDo what.â
âThe whole thing,â you say, gesturing in front of you. âOf protecting me and making sure I didnât make a mistake. Plus the⊠the umâŠâ
Aonung stares in disbelief. Heâs never seen you go this long without loudly and shamelessly voicing your opinions. The struggle to get out a single sentence is really quite unnerving for him.
âThe whole kill him if he touches me thing,â you blurt in a quick breath, face flushed and eyes refusing to meet his.
Itâs Aonungâs turn to blink. He does so in owlish silence, watching the light filtering contentedly through the canopy above while his mind works furiously to find a legitimate answer to your question.
âYou are small,â Aonung says finally, carefully tiptoeing around the truth, but really, any more time to think is quite unacceptable given the length of his ponderous silence. âAnd delicate and sweet. I do not wish anyone-â
âI am not weak,â you interrupt, a small frown on your sweet little face. âI donât need you to protect me.â
He swallows heavily. Those words feel suddenly painful in his chest.
Thatâs who he was â he protected you, even if you didnât know it yet. He was the one that stood by you, stood over you, and that warmth and shade he cast over you meant so much more than you thought.
Eywa, how well he could protect you if you let him.
You must have noticed how those words hit him â how his ears drooped and tail swept dejectedly through the sand.
âAonung?â you say quietly, propping yourself up on one arm and staring at him. âIs there something bothering you?â
âNo,â he says, far too fast to be believable. Your mouth twitches in a wry smile, and you scoot closer.
âYou always were a terrible liar,â you whisper. At Aonungâs bitter little huff, your smile widens slightly, before fading entirely. He wants to do anything to bring it back. âAt least - you could never convince me.â
âFine,â Aonung mumbles, resigning himself to the fact that thereâs no going back.
He knows you know somethingâs wrong, and he can tell that this friendship is already crumbling away into something else â something unintelligible and unfathomable to him.
âThey are not fit for you, tsawksyul.â
You flinch back, and Aonung wonders faintly if itâs because of the name, or his words, or the harsh desperation with which he spoke them, and he reaches slowly for you. You lean back from him, face twisted with confused hurt.
âThen who is?â you say dully.
âNot anyone here,â Aonung tells you.
Once again, he has no idea how to gage your feelings. Itâs strange really, that heâs gone from how lustful and filthy he was last night to how just overwhelmingly⊠fluffy he feels right now.
But apparently you arenât finding his words how he intended them, because your face is twisting in a very obvious scowl.
âSo⊠I donât get anyone,â you say.
Aonung isnât stupid, he sees the way your eyes are narrowing to indicate the very clear correct answer to your trembly question, but then again, he is stupid when it comes to you.
âYou donât need anyone.â
Instantly he knows that was the wrong thing to say. Your chest seems to swell and your face flushes as you sit upright and glare at him.
âRight,â you snap.
âHave I upset you?â Aonung asks slowly, wondering what he did when his brain feels as though itâs made of jelly.
âNice observation sherlock,â you huff. âYouâd want me to end up all sad and alone with no one to love me, just so I donât fuck some of your clan mates? What, are you jealous or something? Do you think that youâd be that much better?â
No sooner are the words from your mouth then Aonungâs body betrays him â reacting before his mind can process. But the way he flinches back and flushes makes you freeze, and your eyes widen.
âWellâŠâ he stammers, trying to dig himself out of this stupid hole he got into. âYes?â
âAnd why is that,â you huff, standing up on your little legs, barely at his height and fist balled with rage. âYou really think youâre that much better than everyone else? I thought you got over your cocky entitlement phase but now here you are, desperate to show that youâre the biggest, hottest thing in the clan.â
Aonungâs brain is too muddled to think. This is all going so, so wrong.
âNo!â he says quickly, so desperate to try and speak properly that his voice comes out as something of a shout. You look shocked for a moment, flinched back from him, and he instantly reaches towards you. âIâm sorry-â
âYou know,â you say stiffly, stepping out of his reach, âI thought you werenât like this anymore. God, I wasted so much time, and you only ever started noticing me in this way when you found out I â as an adult woman by the way â was not some little ⊠celibate fucking nun!â
âIn what way?â Aonung asks, confused.
You let out a noise somewhere between a sob and a furious growl, then let out an unnerving laugh.
âAre you fucking serious?â you snap. âYouâre the most self-centered person Iâve ever met! I thought we grew up, that not everything would be a competition and we could have a mature friendship if we could never be⊠UGH! But you are genuinely the most infuriating, entitled, interfering, emulous ass Iâve ever had the misfortune to befriend! I mean what is wrong with me?â
âNothing is wrong with you,â Aonung says, frowning.
âWell there obviously fucking is if I love you!â
You freeze. So does he.
Your words â irrevocable, irreversible and so gleamingly inescapable hang in the still, tense air.
The beach is completely empty albeit the faintly lapping waves and drifting shade of the trees, and of course those words. The ones that change everything, break everything, ruin the friendship you have spent years building.
Aonung just sits in dumbfounded, perplexed silence. Breath after breath. He seems to have forgotten how to breathe, and in the strange, almost reminiscently ironic moments he takes to try and figure it out, youâve turned faintly green, flushed deeper than the flowers above you, then paled in blunt mortification.
âOh god,â you whisper, covering your face when your brain kicks in and you remember to move. Aonung still hasnât said anything, and even though he can see thatâs breaking you, he just isnât able to speak. âPlease⊠say something skxawng.â
Silence.
âOh god,â you say again, shaking your head, lip trembling slight. âFuck, Iâm sorry. I shouldnât have said anything- Iâm just going to-â
âI love you too.âÂ
âPlease just forget- wait what?â
Thereâs a moment when everything stops. The sea seems to stall, the wind dies and the canopy stiffens. Aonung notes that your hair is still being blown gently in some absent breeze.
Your eyes look slightly red and slightly wet and your lips are parted in surprise. The longer Aonung stares at you, the deeper that little frowning furrow between your brows grows. Heâs vaguely aware of his heart thumping â so loud and fast that under different circumstances, he may have even been worried about it â but he canât summon any thoughts into his brain.
âSince when,â you whisper. Your voice is nothing more than a trembly breath, and if Aonung hadnât been naâvi, if he hadnât been watching you so intently to gage that your lips moved, he would have still been trapped in this tense silence.
âSince fucking forever,â he groans, rubbing his face tiredly. âI thought you were supposed to be all smart and all-knowing when it came to romance and crushes and shit.â
âJust because you are completely and irrevocably stupidly oblivious,â you scoff, âdoes not make me a genius in comparison.â
âSo weâre just two little lovestruck idiots, then?â
âGuess so.â
Thereâs a moment of silence before it really does process to both of you. Aonungâs head snaps up, eyes wide and lips stretched with a fat dopey smile only to find yourself already launching yourself into his arms.
When he catches you, heâs sure heâll never be able to let you go. Your hands reach to cup his face, which seems comically large in comparison, smiling in delighted disbelief before you let out a small, wet laugh.
âGod, I love you.â
Aonung doesnât even respond- barely even processes your words beyond a surge of overwhelming ecstacy, and presses his lips to yours.
Fuck.
Eywa.
How had he managed to go this long without this.
All those moments staring at your lips meant nothing when compared to the actual feel of them; soft, warm, tentative at first as you brush them over his own. Thereâs something so sweet about you, and he has a blissful idea that youâre melting on his tongue.
Aonung can feel those last tenterhooks of your friendship splintering and tearing apart at the feeling of your lips against his.
Well, good riddance.
Aonungâs hand finds its way into your hair, hand resting steadily on the back of your neck. Your mouth is small, cushioned by those soft warm lips, but you open your mouth wide and eager, hungry and tentative and exploratory and everything in between.
Youâre making all these little huffy noises, as though desperate for breath but unable to pull away from him. When your smooth, small body shifts to press itself closer against him, Aonung groans unrestrainedly into your mouth, and he swears to Eywa you could kill him.
When heâd imagined this â during those late nights hidden deep in his marui fisting his cock â youâd been different. Sometimes youâd be sweet and nervous and tentative, at others youâd be desperate and ravenous and impatient.
Nothing could have prepared you for this, not even his copious, overwhelming dreams and hopes and desires for this. Nothing could have readied him to have you here and now, lips against his, tongue pressed against his, bodies tight against one another.
Heâs so hard he thinks he might actually die, but heâll be damned to pull away to deal with his own needs. All that matters now, all that exists right now is you, your scent, your lips, your body all beside him and around him and so hungry for him.
When heâs worried youâre quite about to suffocate, he slides his lips sideways to press hungry kisses along your jaw. You let out small, breathy gasps, fingers tangling in his hair, arms clinging tight around his neck to steady yourself as his lips find their way steadily back to you.
As your lips smash onto his once more, Aonung marvels at the way his hand â splayed out to hold you up â spans across the whole damn length of your back. When his fingers lightly trace their way up your spine, you shiver against him, soothed by his hand carding gently through your hair.
Your tongue licks lightly over his fangs, and Aonung, surprised, jerks back at the strange sensitivity. That felt different, and he wonders faintly how in all the meaningless, irrelevant kisses heâs shared in his lifetime, thatâs never happened before, or at least made him feel so sensitive.
âYou good?â you smile against his lips, but he suspects itâs more of a smirk. You know exactly what youâre doing.
âYeah,â he says, feeling breathless and completely inflamed. âYeah⊠Iâm good.â
Your tongue teases over his fangs again. When he moans shamelessly back into your mouth, you giggle and cuddle him closer. Aonung laughs with you. Itâs an almost painful relief from the overwhelming heat of the moment.
Youâre still breathing heavily with that wide smile on your face when you stop giggling, but when Aonung meets your gaze, he canât read your expression. He thinks for a moment youâre going to push him back, tell him to slow down, but then your gaze darkens ominously.
âLetâs get back,â you breathe exultantly.
âWhy-â
âBecause I donât really feel like fucking for the first time with you on the sand of an exposed beach,â you grin.
âSo weâre going to fuck?â Aonung asks hopefully, the corners of his mouth curling with delight.
âUp to you,â you grin, standing up and backing away from him in the direction of the village. âI mean, you could stay here in the shade, listen to the pretty birdies and watch the ocean-â
You cut off with a delighted giggle as Aonung sweeps you up as though you weigh nothing and tears off towards the village.
He ignores the stares of the clan as he storms his way towards his marui, though he must admit you must be quite the sight â you nearly completely bare in your little swimsuit, bundled up in his arms and shifty smiles stretched wide across your faces.
He practically crashes into his marui, not bothering to slip his way through the woven entrance but bursting through it and kicking it carelessly back into place with his tail.
You laugh â sweet and clear and loud â as he tosses you against the bed and crawls over to you. Thereâs barely a thought in his brain than you, with your breathy little gasps and hands raking through his hair and soft, warm lips.
When he buries his nose in the soft, exposed crook between your shoulder and neck, you jolt in surprise. You smell so sweet. Aonung wonders vaguely if heâs in heaven, surrounded by your arms encircling him, buried and deluged in your warm, sweet scent.
Heâs extremely pleased to note youâre already starting to smell like him â a faint trace of sea breeze and amber noticeable on you, but he isnât about to stop until you smell of nothing but him, until every person in this clan can see his plain mark on you, know that you are his and his alone.
And then he canât stop himself from sinking his fangs lightly into that warm exposed skin.
You instantly squirm underneath him, arching up against him with a surprised gasp. You are just so soft, and his teeth sink with impossible ease into your neck. No sooner has he done it then heâs lightly licking the small pearls of blood away and pressing a light kiss for good measure.
And then he does it again. And again â adorning you with a necklace of gleaming ruby bites, better than any jewellery he would make, prettier than any pearls or shells he would collect. He doesnât know if you understand them, that claim and those marks, but heâll make sure you know that youâre his.
âAonung,â you gasp, gripping at his face to tug him away and force him to look at you. âAonung!â
âYes?â he asks, slightly irritated you stopped him from continuing.
âI want you to fuck me,â you breathe, pupils blown wide, chest heaving with the desperation of your gasps, face flushed in glorious exultation.
âNot yet tsawksyul,â he says. A small glare is forming in your eyes, and he nearly laughs at your ravenous impatience. âYou are not ready yet.â
âYes I am,â you snap, scowling at him. âIâve taken naâvi men before, just-â
âPatience,â he whispers, hand reaching up to rest against your face, thumb brushing over your frowning lips.
You look like youâre about to shout at him when Aonungâs hand leaves your face and finds itâs way to the little knots on the side of your bikini.
âIs this alright?â he asks gently. No sooner are the words out of his mouth then youâre nodding with irritated fervour, and he pulls lightly on the strings and slides away your bottoms.
Fuck.
His eyes are glued to that paradise between your legs, the one heâs been dreaming about for months. Vaguely and almost unconsciously, he decides when he dies, heâd prefer this heaven over anything else. His eyes quickly flicks up to you, and you must see something in his darkened, suddenly insatiable gaze, because your face is quickly flushing and your legs are squeezing shut.
âDo you want this tsawksyul?â he asks in a low voice, retracting from your body slightly so you donât feel uncomfortable.
âYe- yes,â you mutter, face turning an adorable pink colour.
âAre you sure,â he presses gently, reaching out to direct your gaze back to his. âWe can do something else- we donât have to-â
âNo!â you gasp, eyes widening at those words. âNo- I want this.â
âYou have to tell me,â Aonung whispers, pressing a kiss to the perfect plush of your inner thighs, âif you donât like anything. You have to say if you want to stop.â
âDonât you dare,â you breathe, and he grins.
When he finally dives between your legs, itâs without the intent of ever resurfacing. You let out a surprised little gasp as he muscles his way between your pretty thighs, forcing them further apart from that meager gap you thought would satiate him.
He licks a long, tantalising stripe up your puffy lips, eyes practically rolling back at the sweet, heady taste of you, exploding over his tongue just as he spent so long dreaming about. At your reaction â accidentally bucking your little hips into his face with a choked gasp â he can guess you hadnât been expecting the rough texture of his tongue.
He looks experimentally up at you, and you glare straight back with an impatient, expectant look on your usually sweet little face.
Fuck yes.
He sucks lightly and you practically shriek, hands tearing for something to grab onto. Unfortunately, your fingers find purchase closing around his hair â curls and kuru and all â and you tug.
Neither of you expected that groan ripped from him, the sound vibrating against you in a way that has your eyes rolling and moaning in glorious response. Aonung, who had already thoughtlessly been rutting his own hips against the ground in search of any salvation from that insatiable ache in his core, does not miss that warning heat start to coil in his abdomen.
But ever set on pleasing you, he does not lapse for a moment and ignores his own unravelling as you continue to desperately tug at his kuru. Youâre already squirming and gasping for breath â only making hungry little moans and letting slip little gasps of curses and donât stops.
He, in fact, has no intention of stopping soon. Not when youâre making all these pretty little noises, not when your own pleasure â the sounds and taste and scent of it â is nearly tipping him over the edge.
He can tell youâre close, and thatâs what prompts him to slowly slide a finger into your soaked heat. With a choked moan your hand fists tighter around his hair. Aonung marvels at just how tight you are, clenching around his fingers like a vice as you struggle to adjust to his finger.
He vaguely revels in the thought of how amazing youâd feel, wrapped all tight and warm against his cock, and he moans into you.
When he knows youâre about to tip over the edge, when your eyes are rolling and your moans are becoming less words and more desperate pleading noises, he circles his tongue around your clit and sucks.
You come undone with a cry, clenching around his finger so much he can feel your whole heat aching against his ravenously laving tongue.
Itâs only when your thighs (no doubt of their own accord) shut tight around his face in a glorious squeeze of soft, perfect squidge.
He isnât sure why thatâs what does it â though it is paired with your tugs on his kuru and his mindlessly rutting hips â but then heâs also pushed over that brink with a snarl you hardly even notice, too high on your own cresting pleasure.
But he has no time for shame or mortification at his early release, never even touched by you, because really, itâs a marvel it hadnât happened earlier.
Youâve barely come down from your high when you notice Aonung still buried contentedly between your closed thighs.
âA- Aonung,â you pant, left breathless by your orgasm and the glorious sight of your best friend, all perfect and pretty, having the goddamn time of his life.
His only reply is to lightly tap the side of your thighs and mumble against your aching cunt, âOpen these a little wider for me, tsawksyul.â
He vaguely notes your mouth drop open in surprise before heâs diverting his full attention to that heaven between your thighs. Your little huff of impatient is batted with your own gasp, but you â stubborn as ever â continue the struggle of attempting speech, âYou-â
âJust one more,â he coaxes, licking another long stripe so his tongue catches on your overstimulated clit. Your defeated little groan is music to his ears, and a wide grip is stretched over his face as he victoriously resubmerges.
Your first orgasm has barely abated before your second is hurtling nearer with haphazard enthusiasm.
Youâre whining and squirming from the overstimulation, but your desperate moans are punctuated with little gasps of donât stop and encouraging tugs on his hair.
Aonungâs moaning into you, enjoying this quite as much as you are. His hands are holding you close by your soft plush of your thighs, tail sweeping and thumping behind him as he inevitably grows rock hard again, spurred by your euphoria.
All that exists is you. Youâre so fucking wet, practically soaking into his mouth. All he can see and hear and taste is you, hips rutting against his face, hands clawing at his hair, head thrown back and moans spilling out of your gleaming, parted lips.
His jaw is aching in delicious wearing. The pain is satisfying in a strange way, and he contents himself with the knowledge heâs working.
It isnât exactly best-friendly; the thoughts heâs having. He sincerely doubts his brain has never been this filthy, flying through all the lewd possibilities while he has you here.
âAonung!â you slur out, thighs twitching over his shoulders as you near your high. âyou need- slow down - âs too much.â
âYouâre doing so well,â he hums against you, still maintaining his steady (and somewhat overzealous) pace.
Again, when he notices how close you are, he sucks your whole cunt into his mouth, tongue lapping at your little swollen clit as he sucks hungrily at you.
Then once again, your thighs are tensing and your moans are slurring into unintelligible whines. Your grip on his hair is iron as you gasp your way through your second high, eyes wide and lips parted as you heave for shaky, desperate breath.
Once you come down, you push at his head, tugging his hair away from your overstimulated cunt and trying to pull him back up to you.
âGod- Aonung!â
Finally he relents, sitting up with a delighted little grin. You are also wearing a stupid little smile, though you look distinctly dazed and ruffled. Aonung feels a little surge of pride.
âOh myâŠâ you gape, eyes wide in bewilderment as you scan over him. His face is all shiny and gleaming and slicked, and you let out a little giggle as you reach out to try and wipe some of it away. âOh my god- Iâm so sorry.â
Aonung laughs with you, not in the least bothered by the mess of his face. Instead, he takes your hands in his and peppers light kisses up your arms and back towards your neck, where he is pleased to see his various gleaming bites and hickeys ornamented into your soft skin. You giggle again.
âAonung?â you ask gently, a small smile curling at the edge of your voice.
âMm?â he grunts, nipping another ruby bite into your collar.
âCare to fuck me now?â
Aonung pulls away an inch, trying to hide his obvious arousal as he studies your rosy grinning face.
âAre you sure?â he questions gently. âI mean you just-â
His voice dies in his throat when you reach up lightly to â tortuously slowly â pull at the strings of your top. He watches the top slide away without breath, and only when youâve impatiently tossed it aside and grinned at him does he dare to move.
A complete sense of unreality washes over him. After imagining this moment for so long, it seems strange he cannot think of anything to do but worshipfully admire you.
He is pleased to note that, in fact, your breasts are just as soft and plush as the rest of you. They are round and full and slightly squishy in a way completely unlike naâvi, and heâs never been gladder that your arenât just muscle, that your small body is so perfectly squidgy.
With a nod of consent from you, Aonung reaches lifts you lightly up to place you over his lap. You steady yourself with your hands on his chest, still looking a little rumpled and dazed, but he doesnât miss that dark, mischevious gleam in your eyes as you stare down at him.
The second youâre balanced, your hand is reaching out to the tent of his tewng. You study him with greed, drinking in the sight of his arousal as though itâs what you need to live. Heâs a little mortified now, but he hopes that you think the slick of your hips slightly rocking against his is why his tewng is soaked.
Your hand reaches out to trace along the edge of his tewng, eyes dark with frustrated, hungry impatience.
âOh baby,â you whisper, your mouth twisted in strange ecstasy as you meet his flushed gaze. âWas this all for me?â
Before he can answer â though he doesnât think heâd even be able to speak with you settled so perfectly over him â your hips slide back a little so your little palm settles right over his hardened length.
âTake these off.â
âAre you su-â Aonung starts to say, before you rock right up against his pained length and his voice stumbles off.
âYes,â you whisper impatiently. âItâs not fair that Iâm here all naked and you still get clothes.â
âIâm basically already naked and you wear clothes that cover much more than mine every day,â he protests.
âWhat, do you want me to get you a hoodie too,â you snap, and he knows youâre growing more frustrated and impatient with the effort of grinding against him.
He laughs, and you scowl fiercely at him.
âJust take it off Ao, I wanna make you feel good too.â
Those words practically punch a whole in him, and he feels another surge of unbearable affection for you, which is promptly murdered as you stop your movements in protest.
âYou already did, tsawksyul,â he whispers.
âNot properly,â you press. âI want to do it.â
âYes maâam.â
Your hips rock hard against his, your bare cunt against his cock covered by that ridiculous tewng, and he feels his self-control slipping away. You must sense it too, because youâre grinning and shifting up to help him pull the last restraint between the two of you away. The tewng is thrown away with careless abandon to lie somewhere far away; there are no clothes needed here.
The small gasp you let out when you finally see him all bare and desperate and hungry makes Aonungâs heart thud painfully in his chest.
âFuck yes.â
Your words explode from you as though you didnât mean to say them, and a moment later youâre flushing with hot embarrassment. Aonung laughs lightly and you smile bashfully with an adorable little nose scrunch, before heâs lifting you back onto him again.
Itâs bare â skin on glorious skin.
He needs to breathe for a moment, ears flattening against his head and eyes falling shut in dark pleasure. Youâre so soft â thighs either side of him, breasts bouncing at the slightest movement â but youâre also so wet and warm and slightly sticky that he thinks youâre killing him.
It becomes painfully evident to him that the moment his cock pushes inside you, heâll be fighting for his life to not come instantly. Again.
He always knew patience wasnât your strong suit, but youâre growing more and more frustrated and he finally pulls his babbling brain together enough to flip you over to lie beneath him and align himself to your entrance.
With a small, almost pleading cry from you, with his heart thudding loud enough for you to hear, he presses in.
Youâre clenching around him so tight, barely even an inch in. Youâre tighter than he ever imagined, and he feels like heâs being coddled in searing perfection, so much so that he can hardly breathe as he slowly starts to push in.
When you let out a hoarse whine â the stretch is evident even to him â Aonung winces. He doesnât want to hurt you, and the thought of you in pain is too much for him to bear. He settles himself with pulling you against him, soothingly stroking your hair.
He canât look away from where youâre swallowing him whole. Itâs a fucking addiction, a new drug. Even the sight of you slowly struggling to take him would be enough to send him over the edge, and he grits his teeth so he doesnât come instantly and mortifyingly. Again.
And then finally, Aonungâs pushing past that tight ring of resistance and into your velvety heat.
Heâs dying. He has to be. Because thereâs no damn way he didnât just go to paradise.
The breath is punched out of him in a low, desperate growl, his hands clawing into the ground to steady himself, to let you adjust, to not just completely lose his mind and bury himself deep into you.
âHoly shit,â you breathe, your voice no more than a desperate, filthy whimper as you look down. The sight of the bulge in your stomach drives Aonung fucking crazy, and he has to physically grip himself back from just slamming straight into you. âYouâre all the way here.â
âTaking me so well syulang,â Aonung praises, eyes hazy with the strain and face flushed in the euphoric pleasure of your body around his. âDoing so good for me.â
He doesnât miss the way you clench around him at the praise, the way your cheeks blush and you bite back a small, helpless moan. A good thing to know for later, and he makes a mental note to shower you in so much praise you donât know what to do with it.
But in the meantime, he can hardly breathe through the effort of holding himself back. Youâre gripping him so damn tight he thinks you might actually strangle him, the overwhelming pleasure and anticipation practically choking the breath out of him.
Your face is all twisted and screwed up, and Aonung doesnât need to be a genius to see youâre in pain. He holds you close, whispering endless praise of how well youâre doing while reaching down to rub gentle circles on your overstimulated clit as he continues the painstaking, tortuous ascent into the heaven between your legs.
âOh god,â you whimper, resting your limp head against Aonungâs chest, heaving for breath as you try your utmost to adjust to him. âOh god, Aonung.â
The sound of his name rumbled from deep within your chest, coarse and raw and desperate just tips him just over the edge of mastering his control. His muscles tense as your nails dig into his chest, hips flexing somewhat and accidentally knocking into you, and you let out a strangled cry.
âI know, Iâm sorry,â he says quickly, reaching to cuddle you in close, stroking your hair comfortingly. âYouâre doing so well, tsawksyul.â
The words fall on practically deaf ears. Youâre so flushed and radiant and ravenous that he doubts youâre even thinking straight, your face adorned with a somewhat manically exultant smile and rolling eyes as he slowly presses even further into you.
Youâre clenching around him so impossibly tight, whimpering and moaning as he rocks several more inches into you. He doesnât know what to make of your quiet sobs, whether theyâre of pain or pleasure or just hungry impatience, but he comforts you nonetheless by settling his thumb gently over your clit.
Aonung couldnât care less about how vocal he is, whispering endless praise, snarling out small curses, rumbling desperate groans against the skin of your bare neck, which is now adorned with gleaming hickeys and several smug little bites.
âEywa, they didnât do anything to deserve you tsawksyul,â Aonung groans, still rocking another inch into you. You give a weak, wet chuckle, and he presses a kiss to your shining forehead. âYou donât need any of them ever again, you got that? You wonât ever need anyone else.â
âYe- yes.â
âIâll take care of you,â he groans, hardly even aware of what heâs saying anymore. âWhatever you need, Iâll always be there with you.â
âAo- Aonung?â you gasp, steadying yourself with a grip on his arms. âI wa- I want-â
âI know, I know,â Aonung soothes you, finally bottoming out inside you. Thereâs no way he would have fit all of himself in there, but he isnât greedy, particularly when the part you could take is coddled so warm and wet and tight. âIâve got you.â
It takes everything in him not to let loose immediately.
Itâs with gentle words and a hand splayed out across your back to steady you that he pulls out an inch or so before rocking back in.
The effect is instant. You let out a strangled, lewd, filthy noise, eyes widening to round moons and mouth opening in almost dumbification. He makes a deep groan in response, pulling out again, pushing back in again, and the last pretences of friendship are shattered.
His lips find their way to your face, forehead clumsily pressed against your much smaller one, hands holding you gently â a softness at complete odds to the way heâs fucking you.
It feels sinful â the way this is so perfectly right, to have his best friend like this, all pretty and babbling and teary on his thick length.
He moans shamelessly every time his gaze passes over you â all stretched and beautiful â around him, taking everything he gives you.
The sounds youâre making are mingled pleading and sobbing, still shot through with greedy hunger. Each moan and whine and sob strike deep in him, hand in hand with the tears forming in your shining eyes.
Eywa, youâre so much tighter than he ever imagined â ever dreamed of. Heâs pretty sure he tells you, but those words are lost in the stream of mingled praise and groaned curses pouring from him as he revels in the pleasure of you and you alone.
The sight of your tits bouncing at each thrust is hypnotic, and then finally his restraint is crumbling, and he dives eagerly forward to take one of them into his mouth.
You arch with a surprise cry as his mouth locks around your breast, tongue flicking over your peaked nipple, fangs trailing over your soft skin now slightly shining with the heat of his mouth. He ignores the contortion for him to do it â all discomfort is disregarded at the sounds of your pretty little whines.
He knew from the start he wasnât going to last long, but he can see that you clearly arenât going to either.
Your eyes are rolling, heaving for breath in the rare moments you arenât cursing or babbling or moaning. Your hands and clutching for support, anything to cling to, something to anchor yourself so he doesnât almost fuck you straight through the bed.
Aonung vaguely acknowledges (in some dimly functioning part of his brain), that perhaps he might be a little worked up. Heâs wanted this for so long, thought about this so many times, imagined and replayed and perfected the vision of this moment, that thereâs no slowing down now.
Nothing â not one of his filthiest imaginations, not one of his raunchiest desires â could compare to this. To you.
And then your mouth is opening in a hoarse, desperate cry, your fingers are clawing into the tensed muscles of his shoulders, your cunt is clenching so tight around him itâs bordering on sinful pain.
He reaches to rub circles on your poor, swollen, throbbing clit, and you practically scream.
âFuck, fuck fuck- oh god-â you sob, shaking as he fucks you through your orgasm.
âI know, I got you,â Aonung whispers against your sweat-damp skin. He doubts you can even hear him, and he isnât even sure heâs physically speaking all the words rushing through his brain.
It seems to almost go forever, and there isnât a single second in which Aonung wants it to stop. You look so pretty writhing beneath him, clenching around him, panting for him, sobbing because of him, and when it finally seems to slow down, his own pleasure crests.
Heâs grinning against your throat, so fucking pleased with himself. Heâs so proud of the way you took him that heâs actually about to die, and when he moves to pull out, your nails dig into his arm and you shake your head furiously.
Thatâs that.
It all snaps in a final sort of conflagration, waves of pleasure and delight and ecstasy and overwhelming, unbearable euphoria rocking over him, over both of you, as he loses control and buries himself with a positive roar in your still clenching warmth.
Heâs hardly aware of where he is, though he can vaguely hear moans and whines and curses he guesses may be his, though he can see himself filling you up to the point itâs spilling out the sides and onto your soft, shining thighs.
Aonung just allows himself a moment of selfish indulgence, of sinfully glorious exultation. Nothing matters, nothing even exists, beyond you.
When he flops onto you, shaking with heavy breaths, exultance coursing through his veins, he doesnât bother to pull out.
Youâre still so tight and strangely comforting all wrapped around him, pulsing in the glorious, tortuous aftershocks of your final climax. You donât protest â though heâs careful to angle his body to not completely crush you.
You let him lie in delighted, satiated silence, tail sweeping happily behind him on the woven floor, head pillowed against the soft curve of your breasts, dimly admiring all the marks he left across your smooth skin.
Youâre also trying to steady your breath, absently anchoring yourself to the present by fiddling with the woven cord of his necklace. Aonung notices the curved tooth is almost as large as your whole hand, and a stupid surge of affection wells in his heart.
Here you are, the prettiest little thing heâs ever seen, his best friend, seconds after the most lewd, intimate moment of your lives. What did he ever do to deserve even befriending you, let alone be your personal blanket after he may or may not have fucked you damn boneless?
âAre you alright?â he asks softly, when heâs regained enough breath to properly process your limp, heaving form.
You smile weakly and shake your head, saying, âI think youâve ruined me for anyone else.â
âGood,â Aonung grins, shifting to nuzzle closer against your soft skin. âYou wonât need anyone else ever again.â
âOh, really?â you roll your eyes, but he doesnât miss the way you canât stop smiling. A moment later your hands are moving to cup his face, and he smiles back at you.
âCan I kiss you, tsawksyul?â
You donât respond to his question for a moment, staring at him with lips parted in absolute disbelief before a loud, delighted laugh is rocked out of your little body. He frowns, confused.
âWhat?â
âYou just fucked me near boneless,â you laugh, stroking his face affectionately, âand now youâre asking if you can kiss me?â
âYesâŠ?â he replies, brows furrowed. Your laughter fades and a small smile is left on your small, rosy face.
âYes,â you smile, cheeks crinkling and eyes bright with strangely overwhelmed joy. âYes, you can kiss me.â
And he does.
Different to before, not just full of lust and hunger and deep-rooted desperation fuelled by months of desire and affection. This is gentle, sweet, and a soft embodiment of all the warm fluffiness he harbours for you, his little tsawksyul.
He can feel your lips smiling against his own, your little heartbeat thumping against his chest as he cuddles you closer, arm wrapping protectively over you and tail draping lightly over your legs.
Then youâre giggling against him and heâs laughing with you and all the heaviness of the moment before is fading.
He realises that there had been a small naggling part in the back of his brain, wondering what would happened when you finished, when the heat and desire was gone, worried that perhaps it was just the arousal or something that was attracting you to him.
But this is the same then ever â albeit youâre naked. And in love.
Aonung smiles.
âI love you.â
You whisper the words back against his lips, legs wrapping around him to snuggle closer. He faintly dreads the moment youâll have to pull away, but contents himself to the fact that he can cuddle you again tomorrow and the day after.
So he settles back, peppering you with kisses and light praise. After a few moments, when your breath has properly returned, you exchange some happy prediction for everyoneâs reaction to you and him. He finds he couldnât care less.
Eywa, heâs so happy to have you here.
His little friend.
âââââââ±ââ°ââââââ
Tagging my darlings: @hadesbabygurl @wavesarchive @kqlopsia @tadomikiku @ntymavtr @mommyanddadskiller @thehoneymushroomhealer @tsireyax @integers @tiyawnyana @whatevenisagrapefruit @oakbuggy @sunsetviper @blue-slxt @simplyawh0re@yootvi @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @vminlvxr @elegantfankidsoul @blue-slxt @neteyamssyulang @theunfortunateplace @lala-1516 @strongheartneteyam @kiskso @deadpool15 @vampirefilmlover @tysirya @universal-s1ut Please let me know if you'd also like to be added to the taglist :)
#aonung fanfiction#aonung x reader#avatar fanfiction#aonung fic#avatar smut#aonung x female reader#avatar#aonung#avatar the way of water#avatar fandom#aonung x human reader#aonung x human#avatar x human reader#friends to lovers
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Okay omg since i loved the last fic sm i got like another tiny ideaâĄâĄ
So how about james gives an assignment to the class thats like draw the most important people in your life and write about why, and lil charl is draw his mommy ofc and like maybe his grandparents and explains that they are always there for him and he loves them, and he also draws james too and he is like "he baught me a smoothie and answers my questions" or smth more emotional and cuteâĄâĄâĄits really cuteee, and they get put up for parents to see on the wall and take pictures and its just adorable ⥠and the interaction between james and the reader is super cute. Theres just sm cuteness here idk if im making sense, lmaooo.
Love, souâĄ
thank you for your request sou my love! i did end up changing it just slightly but i hope itâs still what you were looking for!đ€
part one part two part three part four part five
Teacher!James Potter x Single Mom!Reader đ 960 words
⥠~ ⥠~ ⥠~ ⥠~ âĄ
Thursday night rolled around, and you were a ball of nerves. Your date with James wasnât even until Friday, but for some reason, the idea of seeing him at the school made you more anxious than the upcoming date did. Maybe it was because you knew seeing him in his element with the kids was almost too much for you to bear. Especially the way he was with Charlie- Jamesâ patience with your son made your heart ache in a pleasant sort of way.
As you approached Godricâs Hollow Primary School, you could see the full parking lot, and the flow of people going in and out of the building. You werenât a fan of crowds, but for some reason, the sight of the large gathering soothed your nerves tonight. Knowing you wouldnât be alone with James made seeing him before you date much less nerve-wracking.
Charlie tugged you anxiously towards the school once you had helped him out of his carseat and locked the car. You laughed fondly at his excitement as you wove through the crowd. Children of all ages ran through the halls, adding to the buzzing atmosphere. Colorful artwork adorned the halls- the teachers had put together a little gallery of sorts outside of each of their classrooms, fancy paper frames bordering each piece.
âOver here, Mummy!â Charlie exclaimed, pulling on your wrist as he attempted to drag you over to his classroom. You could see the difference in the art as you made your way towards the kindergarten hallway. The artwork was just as colorful, if not a bit more scribbly, and you could see that there were small descriptions under each piece that the younger children had drawn. You stopped in front of Charlieâs gallery, and you scanned the wall until your eyes landed on a piece that was almost front and center.
Charlie had drawn a colorful stick figure family in front of a charmingly lopsided house. A large yellow sun shone on the corner of the page. There were two taller figures and one much shorter, and what you thought might be a dog. Each figure was labeled in his messy handwriting- âCharlie,â âMummy,â and âMr. James.â You felt your breath catch in your chest, and you looked down at Charlie, who was beaming proudly up at you. You glanced back up at the words âMy Familyâ written across the middle of the page, your throat suddenly dry.
âWow, thatâs some impressive work,â said a familiar voice beside you. Your heart skipped a beat as you turned to look at James, who was smiling at you in a way that made you feel very warm. You could see his hesitation, though, as his eyes lingered on the words âMy Familyâ for a second longer than they probably should before he turned to Charlie.
âYou really captured my good side, buddy,â James said as he crouched down and gave Charlie a fist bump. Charlieâs smile made your heart melt. âAlthough, Iâm not sure if I should be flattered or worried about my hair.â
You laughed, finally breaking the unspoken tension between the two of you. âWell, I think he didnât quite get your hair right, but your height is spot on,â you joked, glancing back up at the drawing. James met the height of the house in the background with his messily drawn hair. You smiled proudly down at Charlie as you added, âYou did a fantastic job, Charlie. I think James just needs to see a hair stylist before his next portrait.â
James stood back up, leaning closer to inspect the drawing. âIt looks like you named the dog, tooâŠis he named Snoopy?â He gave Charlie a mischievous smile, and Charlie nodded vigorously.
âHeâs Mummyâs favorite!â Charlie said seriously, causing the two of you to laugh.
âYes, I know,â James said. You could hear the fondness in his voice. âI feel very lucky to have made your family portrait, Charlie.â
Charlie grinned up at him, his eyes sparkling proudly. âYeah! I wanted you to be in it âcause youâre important.â
The simple honesty of Charlie's words left a soft silence between you and James. His eyes met yours, and for a second, it felt like the rest of the room faded away.
"Well," James said, his voice a little quieter now, "I have to say, I'm honored to be included."
You smiled at that, your heart racing just a bit. "I think Charlie's trying to tell us something," you said, trying to keep your tone light despite your nerves.
James raised an eyebrow, curiosity sparking in his eyes. "Oh yeah? Whatâs that?"
You tilted your head, your heart racing faster now.
"Well," you started, leaning in just slightly, "he seems to think you belong in this picture. And I have to say, the longer I look at it, the more I agree.â
James swallowed, clearly a little flustered but not backing down. "Yeah," he said, his voice softening, "I think Charlieâs onto something, here."
The space between you felt charged, and for a second, you allowed yourself to imagine what would happen if you closed the gap entirely. You could see the way James's eyes flickered down towards your lips, and you watched as he slowly raked his eyes back up your face, meeting your eyes.
Feeling braver than you expected, you took another step toward him, closing the gap further. "Maybe we should see what else Charlie's figured out," you said, your voice teasing but with an edge of seriousness.
James's breath caught, and he looked at you, his eyes wide with a mix of nerves and excitement. "You think so?" he asked, his voice low, his smile a little shy now.
You nodded, your pulse racing. "Yeah," you whispered, "I think so."
#lupinsweater#james potter x fem!reader#james potter blurb#james potter drabble#james potter fanfiction#james potter x reader#james potter x y/n#marauders fluff#marauders fanfiction#marauders era#james potter fic#james potter oneshot#teacher!james x single mom!reader#teacher!james#fanfic
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hello! iâm love your post and arts so much! I look at your posts after a hard day and my mood immediately changes to excellent. can I ask a couple of questions?
which pairing with Ethan do you prefer?
and⊠can we get to know you better? a little biography?
Thank you for your time! I'll be waiting for new arts! (sorry if i made mistakes, my english is not so good. im russian)
i like basically every ship with ethan! it mostly depends on the mood im in, but if im being honest, mithan, winterfield, and wintersberg gets frustrating to think about because they all dont treat ethan well canonically... lethan is fun because they have never met and i can make my own assumptions!
i used to like wintersberg the most and i still do like it, i just have expanded my horizons to other ships as well...., its mostly like a punchline to me though. they have the funniest potential which is why a majority of their posts is just joke comics. i do not like how people try to erase how karl is arrogant and egotistical tho. thats like removing the flavor.... the way karl acts is just very funny to me, hes so lame in a good way and i like how everytime he talks to ethan it sounds like hes twirling his hair and kicking his feet. canonically speaking, karl was very much in the wrong for trying to use rose and not elaborating and i will die on this hill. ethan is not in the wrong for being disgusted and angry that karl would ever try and propose that in the deal. karl is very arrogant so when ethan says no to him it makes him mad and he tries to use fear to get ethan to take his deal (kicking his chair and warning him) i like karl, i like how messed up and arrogant he is but i dislike how people try to portray him as a nice guy. however, in a AU where everythings the same except he doesnt try to use rose i do enjoy the dynamic they could have, especially if the teamed up (not with the deal where they use rose. ethan wouldnt agree unless karl never involved rose in the first place). karl is just a very entertaining character and i like him a lot, hes funny and his personality can be extremely hilarious
mia and ethan is pretty tragic and thinking about it too much makes me a bit sad, imo in a reality where ethan survives re8, he needs to divorce mia. im not saying ethan needs to hate mia and never talk to her again i just dont think they should be so intimate together because of her behavior... please do not take this as anti mia. they loved each other dearly but it wasnt healthy. their relationship was kept afloat by lies and mia doesnt change even though she deals with the consequences of her own actions in re7. she actively tries to hide her past from ethan and is mostly focused on trying to move on and have a normal life even if ethan will have to live the rest of his life in the dark.
she loves her family so much, shes very afraid of them leaving her so she hides all the bad things in the hopes that they wont leave. its selfish, its human, its real, her character is so amazing and i love her. she doesnt learn from re7 and hides important information from ethan again. i geniunly think they should have gotten divorced after re8 if ethan had survived. its tragic and its sad but they love each other so much. it sad because they both geniunly love rose so much but they themselves shouldnt be together. its just sad to think about it. whenever i draw them it usually takes place before re7. they should have divorced on good terms and shared custody of rose.........
ethan and chris is also frustrating to think about... chris is a major jerk in re8, whenever i draw it, its under a unspoken AU that chris did not behave the way he did in re8. his weird behavior in re8 is probably for a meta reason imo. capcom wanted to set up a twist villian so they make chris very vague and unesscarily cruel. while its frustrating that they turned chris into a jerk for the sake of a twist, it still happens in canon and i will forever roll my eyes whenever i see him on screen. he did what he thought was best but imo, execution matters more than the intentions. same applies to mia. they both did things that hurt ethan because they thought it would be the best but in the end they just hurt ethan.
all the ships ive discussed with people ethan has met canonically just makes it look like i dont even like the ships... LOL ... ethan just has horrible luck with the people he meets i guess... but i do enjoy the ships and drawing them, but again all of them come with the canon baggage that ends up making me sad because everyone treats ethan poorly whether they had good intentions or not
which is why leon and ethan is the most fun to draw without getting stressed... LOL... they have never met but just drawing what i think their dynamic would be like is very fun.
please dont take this post personally, this isnt a post declaring why ur fave ship sucks, this is just my own personal preferences and in the end i draw all of them anyways
if i had to rank the ships based on drawing silly comics it would be
wintersberg
mithan
lethan
winterfield
wintersberg has the funniest potential just because of karl and mithan can be funny if u water it down to "i love my wife so much" and said wife comes home with suspicious amounts of hard cash
i enjoy making joke comics far to much
if i were to rank the ships based on how healthy they would actually be for ethan it would be
lethan
winterfield, mithan, wintersberg (no particular order)
sorry đ
leon and ethan have literally never met but imo it would still be the healthiest because ethan gets to start new
the three other ships r all unhealthy in some way, at least canonically without changing much about the characters (i do like winterfield but just because of how chris behaved in re8 it knocked them down)
i cant even rank them on personal preference because my opinion changes so often đ it changes based on discussions i have with my friends or recent art i see that inspires me... me and my friends recently had a discussion about mia and ethans relationship which made me very frustrated and sad with mia so i defiently wouldnt be drawing them anytime soon... meanwhile i hvae been talking to a friend who really likes winterfield often so the conversations we have give me art ideas and i end up drawing it more. if a friend of mine really enjoyed wintersberg or lethan and talked to me about it often id probably start drawing it more, the joys of being a multishipper
it changes a lot based on how im feeling and if im in the mood to draw something funny or something serious
sorry u asked a really simple question and i responded with a essay
and a little bit about myself is that i go by crumb, i am 18 and i go by all pronouns and prefer it/its
im vietnamese and live in texas
i made this tumblr acc solely so i could post my ethan art and im a re7/re8 girly so if ur here waiting for me to draw the re1-re6 characters im sorry u should probably expect nothing
i also make personal animations sometimes which u can find here
thanks for the ask and sorry for the rant!
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wait for your love - haechan scenario
hellloooo so this one is a request. I've mentioned it before, i'm still not the best at writing angst but I tryđ
when i saw this request, a few scenes immediately popped in my head. Hope you like itđ„ș also I was listening to We Can't Be Friends by Ariana on repeat while writing this.
Also a short anecdote, when I saw nct dream last year during Sorry, Heart stage I literally bawled my eyes out. Like full on ugly sobbing in my seat haha I was okay during the first verse but when it got to Haechan's turn to sing the chorus the tears just went falling like waterfalls
ANYWAYSSSSSS
For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story seriesâ you can check them out here.
and if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank youđ„șđ
All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.
(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)
"What are we then?"
Those words shouldn't scare Haechan as much as it does. He hates it too. He hates how he can't say it to you but he doesn't want to let you go either.
He hates this grey area the two of you are in now.
"We're us. Isn't that enought?" he asks back
"For fuck's sake, we've been seeing each other for what? like 2 years now? And until now you still can't commit? I can't call you my boyfriend, you don't like it when people ask if we're dating"
"Because it's none of their fucking business"
"Well it's my business, I'm asking you right now, what the hell am I to you?" you stare at him, waiting for an answer. Any answer.
At this point hearing him say you don't mean anything to him would make more sense than the usual silence he'd give you.
"Baby, please I don't want to argue" he mumbles
"See, this is what you do all the time. I'm not a play toy. I'm not some past time you can call whenever you're bored, Haechan. We're adults now. I've invested my time, my feelings, a fraction of my life to you. For this. And you can't even answer me, is that too much to ask? Am I too much?"
You look at him, waiting for him to argue back. You didn't know it was this draining to be in a relationship or situationship or whatever it is you have with him. At some point you got tired of asking him what this all means. When it's clear he's not going to answer you, you stood up from your seat
"I can't do this" you whispered
"What?"
"I can't. I can't do what you're asking, Haechan" you speak clearer this time
He waits a few moments, letting the words sink in.
"What do you mean? I thought you said... you said we can"
With every word he tries not to show he's breaking right and the only thing keeping him together is you, and here you are about to slip through his fingers.
"We can't keep all promises, right? Like how you promised you'll try. This isn't trying."
"Baby-" "Don't" you cut him off. You know it will be a lot harder to walk away if you hear him call you that, it's already hard on you now.
"This is me letting you go" were your last words to him before walking away. You wipe the few tears that escaped, plastering a very fake smile before taking the first step away.
One of many you'd try to take just to get away from this heartbreak.
You would want to say that's not how it ended, that he changed his mind and finally mustered the courage to call you and say what he's really thinking. You want to say that he came the next day and surprised you, knocking on your door holding sunflowers for you.
But no.
After that day you never heard from him again. When you got the (unspoken) message that he'll never try to reach out and fix things between the two of you, you blocked him on everything. Your friends didn't ask questions, you went on with your life. Trying your best to bury and let that part of your story go.
From spending every day and most nights together to being strangers. You acted like he never existed to cover up the hurt you're feeling.
It's been over a year since that. You haven't really cried about it. Not even the day after he left. It's like you're just a shell now. You locked everything in a pandora box in your head, to be forgotten for the rest of time.
"Hey did you hear Dreamers new song?" your roommate asks the moment she steps through the door. You were sitting on the dinning chair, stacks of works and your laptop infront of you
She hears the song playing in the background, "Of course you have, it's good right?" she smiles
"Mhm, I like it"
"Sorry, Heart. Definitely an anthem for the broken hearted" she says withouth meaning out, "I meant like you know it's a sad song" she adds
You chuckle, she probably thinks this song is very fitting for you and you kinda agree with her.
"Anyways, I'm going to the lounge later. Want to come with?"
"Sounds good, I actually need to go out, stretch my legs and get some fresh air"
"Okay, let's leave after lunch"
You met with other friends at the lounge, chatting and sharing notes together. It was a good way to pass time. These days you find that it's best to keep yourself occupied so as not to think about things you'd rather not think about. You kept yourself busy. Finding random hobbies, fixation. For a while you liked running after class, then you got into baking, then crocheting. Activities that keeps you busy, distracted long enough not to remember.
One day you were at a record store, your newest hobby. Browsing for a new record to take home. Today out of the days you forgot to bring your headphones so you hum along the music playing in the store.
While reading the back of the record you were holding, you hear it.
A familiar voice you haven't heard in a long time, a voice you didn't think you'd hear again.
Your head shoots up, looking at the other side of the aisle.
You'd know his voice anywhere. You can be inside the loudest room and you'd still be able to single out his voice.
There he stands right across you, signing out your favorite bands newest song while he has his headphones on. Probably not realizing he's singing a bit too loud.
When Haechan felt someone staring at him, he looks up not expecting you to be looking back at him. He blinks a few times, comtemplating if this was all a dream or he's going crazy and started to hallucinate.
Immediately you put back the record you were holding and ran out the store. Once again leaving Haechan behind.
You're already far by the time he takes the steps to follow you, thinking this time he's not going to make the same mistake but you were already gone.
He knows you blocked him. Of course he tried to call you but his efforts were shut down when he couldn't reach you or his messages won't deliver.
Similar to you, he tried to find distractions. To drown out the thoughts, he drinks, goes out to parties, too many nights he drunk texted you, saying how much he missed you only to see it in the morning unsent. Most of the time there's music directly blasting through his ears. Music being his only escape from his own thoughts, if he's left long enough it's like his own mind is beating him up.
That's how he got into collecting records. He was on the look out for this new record so he decided to drop by the store that day. He didn't expect to see you there.
Out of all the places he'd see you again.
He's not going to lie, he imagined this moment many times before. Even rehearsed what he'd say to you when he see you again but now that it happened he just froze on the spot.
Just like that it's like he back in his room, watching you walk out his door for the last time. He's back to square one.
It's been weeks and no sign of Haechan. It's a good thing, you think.
Also you've been subtly avoiding going to public places just in case you accidently see him again. You thought you're ready, but the moment you saw him it's like all of these emotions you've repressed since you left came back again.
Your roommate finally convinced you to come out. A few of you were gathering for karaoke night. You almost said no again but you need a night out, one more night in your room might just drive you crazy.
"Oh my gosh, girlie you're hereeeee" one of your friends squeals when she saw you walk in the room
"I'm here as a spectator, not to sing" you tell her, accepting the bottle of beer she hands you
"Alright by me, you better cheer the loudest when I sing"
You got invited to karaoke night. A couple of students from campus got together tonight to hang out for chill night. Even though you don't really sing, you do enjoy hanging out with your friends.
You were talking to another friend when suddenly you hear the intro to a familiar song being sung by a familiar voice.
ì ìŽëŠŹë ìœêČ í ëŒì§ëì§? (Why do I become mad so easily) ëŽ ë§ìŽ ììì ë돎 íìŹíì§? (It's pathetic that my heart is so small right?)
You look over the makeshift stage to see Haechan holding the mic, singing out one of your favorite songs.
ìŽë»êČ ë ëłŒêč? (How can I see you?) ë°€ì ë€ìČìž ë§ì ìĄ°ê°ë€ ë°ì§ìŽì§ ìì (I toss and torn all night The fragments of my heart don't shine) ë ìêł ìëë° ëŽê° í ì ìë 걎 (I know it, what I can do is) "I'm sorry", ê·ž ë§ëżìŽë 걞 (Only those words)
Before the chorus starts, Haechan looks through the crowd finding you. He looks straight at you as if he's singing every word to you.
Words you wished you heard from him a long time ago.
Tell me why I let you down Any chance I get, I'm breaking down ìëȘ»ìž 걞 ë€ ìëë° (ìëë°), ì íë 걞êč? (I know I'm at fault but why is it tiring?) To tell you that I'm sorry, heart
For the rest of the song the two of you look at each other. You listen to him, imagining it was really him who was saying those words and not through the song.
When he finished, you stood up to go outside and get some fresh air.
Of course he's here. Luck was never on your side and fate seems to like playing jokes on you.
Haechan watches your back, giving the mic to the next person before following you out. You hear the footsteps behind you, knowing who it might be without looking back.
You're now at the rooftop of the building, a fewer people were hanging out here than inside. Feeling another presence beside you but they haven't said anything yet.
Even though you already know who it was, you don't say anything instead you get another beer from a nearby cooler and passing it over to Haechan without a word.
For a while neither of you said anything, watching the view in front of you.
âI get flashbacks when I see you and not the good kindâ you finally speak out loud
âYouâre saying that like I was the worst thing that ever happened to youâ he snickers, holding the bottle up to his lips to drink his beer
He really didnât think youâd talk to him or even acknowledge his existence at all. But now here you are, at some rooftop at a party he least expected to see you.Â
Heâs trying not to be too obvious but he canât keep his eyes off of you. Maybe it was the way the light hit your face, or how the cold breeze was hitting his skin and yours. The moment he arrived he was kind of hoping to find you here tonight. He knew some of your friends were coming, you did use to have the same circle of friends until he started to distance himself.
He's glad though knowing you found good people who'll be there for you.
He's looking at you again, not being able to stop himself. It was at this moment he realized. Realized something he never thought he was ever capable of ever doing again.Â
Feeling. Loving. Falling and accepting.Â
The sound of horns from cars and the murmuring people in the background, the city lights in front the two of you and the stars as the witnesses. Witness for something thatâs about to unfold.
It was scary. This new found knowledge scared him.Â
In the past it was scary to him to even think about being tied down. To be committed to someone. All of this comes from his fear of failing. He wanted to tell you that before, the last day before you ended things between the two of you he wanted to let you know the reason why he couldnât set things straight with you was because he was scared of letting you down. He was scared you might feel trapped.Â
It's wasn't you who was too much for him. He was the one who felt like he was too much for you. He thought he was being too fast, too careless. His fears got the better of him, costing him a future with you.
You walked away and everything in his life got worse. Like the only light in his life was extinguished.Â
Right now feels like that one chance to get things right. Even though he still feels scared, this time heâs willing to take that risk for you.
There are other things to be scared of, like your gaze. It was the way you were looking at him.
Like you can just consume all of him with those eyes. How youâre saying a thousand words with them without saying a single syllable.
One look into his own eyes and he's ready to surrender everything to you.
âDo you really want to hear my answer to that or are you still emotionally unavailable?â you ask, taking a sip of your own drink.Â
âAt what point did you realize you liked me? Like really liked me?â he asked instead, all he got was a laugh from you. You were laughing out loud like it was the funniest joke youâve ever heard.Â
âWe were watching a movie, I mumbled something under my breath. I think it was something along the lines of âoh thatâs so cuteâ, talking to myself. Then I felt you hold my hand, you kissed it before holding it in yours for the rest of the movie. Itâs not the grandest gesture but at that moment I felt so content. It was all I wanted but I knew you didnât think the same wayâ you smile sadly recalling that memory. Giving him an answer, wondering why you did.
"I guess I never said sorry, I'm sorry"
You shrug, taking another swig from your drink. "What's done is done. I would say no hard feelings but I kinda do hate you for what you did"
"Good. I'd be sadder if you said you didn't care. Hate isn't the opposite of love, it's indifference" he says
"Was that what you felt for me before? Indifference?" you can't help but ask, in your mind you're not sure if you're ready to hear his answer but it's too late to take it back
He shakes his head, drinking the rest of his drink before standing straight to face you
"I felt more for you, more than I ever said. In that I was wrong, I admit. I should've told you. It might be no use in telling you now, but I did feel something for you. I was being stupid and was too scared to admit it"
"Then why are you telling me now?"
"Because I realized not having you in my life is scarier than the thoughts in my head. I was too scared of my own mind, I sacrificed you instead when I shouldn't have. I could've told you. I wish I told you"
You listen to him, letting it sink in. For so long you asked just what went wrong, what you could've done differently or what would've happened if you stayed.
"I waited, I waited until you told me you liked me. But the more I waited, the more I started to not like myself. I knew I deserved more but I stayed because I wanted to be with you. You were always first to me" you say
Hearing you say those words breaks something in him. He did like you, he still likes you. Haechan has always kept a safe distance from everyone, you were the only exception.
"I'm glad we got to talk" you say to him with a smile, then you walk back inside.
This time Haechan didn't follow you because he knows this won't be the last time he sees you.
"Oh my gosh, so that's what happened between the two of you?"
After that conversation with Haechan, you went back to your place and called it a night. The next day your roommate noticed you were staring blankly into space, out of concern she asked you what's wrong. You told her all that happened in the past 24 hours then you told her all about your history with Haechan.
"Yep, I haven't seen him around campus that much after that"
"You know, one of his friends is my blockmate and we go to the same gym. I heard he did an exchange program for a year, maybe that's why you haven't seen him around" she tells you
"Oh really, he did mention it before. Maybe he went through with it" you mumbled
"So you guys were like in a situationship then?"
"I guess so. We weren't exclusive, but he was the only guy I was seeing for like 2 years. Remember when I was barely home"
"Oh! That was him? He used to like send food here all the time whenever you were busy studying"
"What?"
"Oh my god I forgot to tell you that? yea this was like when you guys were a thing. During exam season or when you're busy with reports and stuff, he'd drop off food for you" she tells you
"I thought you had those delivered"
"Girl no, half of the time he leaves it at our door. The only reason I know is because I caught him one time and he fessed up"
No, you definitely didn't know that.
Haechan never told you. He never told you anything. At some point you thought it was better to not ask instead of being met with silence as a reply.
One thing you know though is he's the type to take action rather than say it. You won't be surprised if he did it before, he might not be good at expressing himself but he never passed the chance to make you feel like you're the only girl in his world.
It feels like that was another lifetime ago, that at some point in your life you'd rather be the backburner than totally lose him.
Seeing him again was no help. It's like you spiraled down again. You thought he didn't have this effect on you anymore but you were wrong. You'd be lying if you say you haven't thought of him since you saw him last.
What you didn't know was Haechan felt exactly the same. He's trying to think of a way to reach out to you without seeming to needy, he didn't want you to think he's forcing himself back into your life.
Another week has passed and still no sign of you. He decided to get drinks with his friends, he's a few drinks in when he decided to call it an early night. This really wasn't where he wanted to be.
He's not sure where he wants to be. All he knows is his night would be a thousand times better if he sees you, even just a glimpse.
On his walk back to his place, he plucked a branch from a random plant. Picking out the leaves one by one, leaving a trail behind him.
You're on your way back from the library, deciding to get some midnight snacks first. You noticed the scattered leaves on the road, chuckling at the sight. The more steps you take, you slowly realized it's the same path to your apartment.
You slowed down, looking around to check if anybody was close to you but the street is empty. You grab your phone in your pocket just in case, while you hold your keys with the other hand.
When you're nearing your front door, you see someone sitting at the steps. Head lying low, you can't even see his face but you'd know that brown mop of hair anywhere.
"Haechan?" you called out for him
Haechan looks up, seeing you walking towards him. At first he thinks he's dreaming, he wipes his eyes to clear his vision. Even pinched his arm to check if this was real.
You're here.
He's here.
"What are you doing here?" you asked once you're standing right in front of him
"I grabbed drinks with Yangyang and Jeno, I swear I was walking home. I guess I got confused" he mumbles, now holding a branch with no leaves on it.
You look at it, then looked back at the trail of leaves behind you.
"Do you want to come in? Go drink some water or coffee first before you head back" you offered
"Are you sure?" he asks back, standing up from the steps
"Wouldn't offer if I wasn't. Let's go inside, it's getting chilly"
He steps aside to let you go first, following behind you. The elevator ride up to your floor was quiet, even after going in your apartment Haechan didn't say a word.
"Here, have some water. I can make coffee but it's too late to drink it, do you want ramen or something?" you ask him while getting the snacks you got out of the grocery bag
"Do you usually ask guys to come in with you and cook ramen for them?" he asks
He meant to only think of it, but with the little amount of alcohol in his system seems to have turn the filter off.
You snicker at his question. Instead of answering him, you grab two ramen cup noodles from your cupboard and turn the kettle on. You wait for the red light to turn green before pouring it in the cups, bringing it over the kitchen island and taking the seat beside him.
"I can't even order late night snacks without thinking about you, we used to do it all the time when I came over at yours or when we're having late night hangouts. You ruined a lot of things for me" you finally say
Haechan just looks at your profile. Even though you say it like that, there's really no trace of anger on your face. Maybe you are, but to him you look so pretty and cozy. He wanted to beat himself up for ever thinking he can walk away from this. From you.
"For what it's worth, whenever I get drunk I used to text you all the time. You probably blocked me because the messages never got delivered. Every morning I see that on my phone, message after message until I lost count. I knew you weren't going to answer but I still did it"
"Why?" you ask him
"I missed you. I wanted to tell you I was being stupid, I wanted to beg for you to take me back. But all of those thing I could only say with a bit of help from alcohol. That's how I knew I couldn't go back, not yet anyways. You deserved more than drunken confessions"
You look over at him, for the first time since that night you really look at him. The same eyes that used to feel like home to you.
He looked so different yet the same.
You still feel the same.
"It's been 3 minutes, you hate soggy noodles" you nod at his ramen. Opening your own cup to start eating. Neither of you said anything after that. It wasn't awkward, you actually enjoyed the quiet.
For the first time since Haechan came back and you saw him again, your mind was at peace. You weren't overthinking things. You weren't wondering your long list of what if's.
It's like a part of you knew he's finally here again.
After the quick snack session, he helped you clean up before walking towards the door.
"Thank you for the uh snacks and water" he didn't know what to say, a shy Haechan is a rare sight so you can't help but smile.
Haechan sees this, he can feel his own cheeks redden. You still look so beautiful when you smile, so beautiful that he's ready to fight anyone who makes you smile that isn't him.
"Go home, it's late. You're sober now right?" you ask him
"Yea, I'm good"
"Okay, don't want you getting confused and going to someone else's front door"
"I promise I won't drunk text you again so will you unblock me now? Or if you have a new number you can text me or whatever. Actually you know what, do whatever makes you feel comfortable. Don't listen to me, I'm just blabbing now"
You can't help but giggle at him, the action making Haechan's heart skip a few beats.
"I'm imagining this is how those drunk texts would sound like" you say
"I missed you, Y/N" he mumbles
You don't say anything. He can hear his own heartbeating, each thump like it's the last then you're smiling back at him
"Goodnight, Haechan"
He smiles at you, waving goodbye before finally walking out. He gestures for you to close the door behind him, only leaving after he hears the lock from the other side. He skips back home.
The next few days were back to normal, you weren't feeling gloomy. You were going out with friends. All in all, you're in a great mood.
"Hey, somebody left this outside. Tell me I'm crazy but is this from Haechan?" your roommate hands you over a small bouquet of flowers with a paper bag full of snacks.
"Uh yeah, I think so"
"I know things didn't end well between the two of you, but the boy is still so whipped for you" she mumbles, watching the small smile on your face
"Maybe it's just a peace offering"
"Right, well whatever it might be I say go for it. As long as you're happy"
You look up at her, shocked to hear that all of a sudden "Isn't that what you're worrying about? You really think I didn't notice it, you were listening to Sorry, Heart on repeat the other day then now you're listening to love songs. If he's it for you, then give it a chance"
She left after that, leaving you alone at home.
You take the gifts Haechan sent to your room, putting the flowers in a vase. You see a small note attached,
xx12131xxx just in case you lost it or changed your number. - H
You get your phone and dial the number, it's still in your phone. You unblock it first before you click call, waiting a few rings before you hear his voice
"Y/N?"
"How did you know it was me?"
"I wasn't expecting anyone else, and uh it looks like you didn't change your number"
"Oh yea uhm so you're unblocked now" you told him, not really sure what else to say
He chuckles, "Thanks, so I'm guessing you got the flowers and the snacks?"
"Yeah, thanks by the way. Why though?"
"You shared your stash with me the other night, just wanted to pay you back"
"You didn't have to, I offered. But thanks again"
"Hey uh are you busy right now? or tomorrow or really whenever you're free"
"I don't have anymore classes today"
"Do you want to go grab coffee or food or anything really. Whatever you want, my treat"
If someone told you you'd be going out to get drinks with Haechan, you'd say they're out of their mind. But here you are, visiting a new cafe you've never been to with a guy you thought you'd never be with again.
"I'd get the taro milktea, thanks"
"I'll take this one" he points at the drink in the picture, "And two of the cookies please, thank you" he pulls out his card to pay for the both of you. When you got your drinks and food, you walked back outside to sit on the vacant seats. The weather was nice, it wasn't too hot or too cold. A perfect day to be out.
You open your drink, taking a quick sip while Haechan does the same. You notice he made the face, like when he drinks or eats something sour.
"It's lemon flavored isn't it?" you chuckle, taking the drink from him and giving yours to him instead
"No, it's fine. I'll drink it"
"You hate anything sour flavored, I like lemon it's fine" you sip his drink, it does taste good but you know he won't like it
He watches you get the cookies, breaking it in half before giving him the other.
"If you have anything to say, just say it. You're too in your head again" you tell him
"Sorry, I was just..." he's at lost for words, but this time not for the wrong reason.
It's like his mind can't put what he's feeling in to words.
"Did you get the record you were looking for?" you ask him, changing the topic
"Huh?"
"At the record store"
"Oh I wasn't really buying anything, I was just browsing around. They didn't have the vinyl version of the album I wanted, I'll come back some other time" he tells you, taking a sip of your well now his drink.
"You were singing to the Dreamers, you know them?"
"I know a few songs, Sorry, Heart is good. I like that one"
"Me too. You sounded good when you sang it" you complimented him, this made him smile shyly at you
"Isn't it a bit too sad?" he asks, you shrug your shoulders
"I like it, although my roommate said I've been playing love songs these past few days" you shake your head, remembering what she told you
"Thank you by the way" Haechan suddenly says
"For what? You paid for our drinks"
"I meant for agreeing to get drinks with me. I was an asshole to you. All the time I was gone, I was thinking about how to make it up to you. That is if it's okay with you" he tells you.
He mentally pats himself on the back for not messing that up. Maybe slowly he'll learn how to speak his true feelings, he just hopes you'll be there to listen to him. Even though it took him this long.
"The last thing you asked me was what are we, I was being stupid. I wanted us to be more. I wanted us to be official but I was always scared to say it. I don't know why I was ever scared of committing, I could've been with you. That's my regret"
"Haechan"
"You're not a playtoy to me or just some past time whenever I'm bored. You were never too much for me. If anything I was the one who lacked. I don't blame you for walking away, I deserved that. I needed that so I could finally grow up"
You listen to him. You listen to him finally say the words you've been waiting to hear from him.
"This time I want to do it right, I want to take you out on dates, be there to go on night walks with you, go buy records we'd listen to, whatever you want to I just wan to do it with you. If you'll still have me"
The last words was barely a whisper, like he's scared to say it outloud, scared you might turn him away.
Haechan feels his heart beating wildly again, one day he might pass from arrest he thinks. Then you smile at him and it's like everything in his world stops.
You lean over, kissing the corner of his lip lightly. It was so quick but to him it felt like long time
"All I wanted was that, when it gets too much in your head you can talk to me. I'll listen. We don't have to walk away from each other" you tell him
"I'm sorry" he whispers
"I forgive you, the same way I forgive myself from everything that has happened. We need to heal from those wounds for us to move forward"
He smiles at you, he didn't even notice he got a bit teary eyed until a few tears escaped. He wipes it away before looking back at you again.
You stand up from your seat, holding out your hand to him. He looks at your hand then your face then your hand again before intertwining it with his.
There wasn't a destination in mind, he's probably thinking the same. The two of you just walk where your steps lead you to, with him following beside you holding you close to him.
Haechan looks at your hands, a smile forming on his face. He leans towards you to kiss you on the head, the action making you smile too.
"Thank you" you hear him mumble. You didn't say anything back but he felt you grip his hand tighter. Squeezing it three times.
And he knew everything was finally going to be okay. This time, you won't let go.
#story#tags#request#nct#nct fic#nct recommended#nct reads#nct dream#nct 127#nct haechan#nct imagine#nct scenario#nct fluff#nct angst#nct au#haechan imagine#haechan oneshot#haechan scenario#haechan fluff#haechan angst
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What if Cale Henituse had someone special during his time as Kim Rok Soo? Although they were never officially a couple, it was clear to everyone that their relationship went beyond mere friendship. Slowly but surely, KRS grew more comfortable and at ease around this person until they were killed. Brutally (lmaaooo I'm sorryy HAHAHWHAHW). Later, they reunite in his life as Cale Henituse, but reader has changed significantly because, like KRS, they too have been transmigrated. Their life has been deeply affected and troubled by their own close relatives, unlike Cale, who, despite some hesitation from his family, at least had the comfort of a family that cares about his safety and well-being overall. (Dyk Roxanna from TWTPTFLOB? Basically her family. If you don't know, basically her family is torturous to have. I think normal ppl would die if they suddenly transmigrated as a part of Roxanna's family because they're the definition of insanity)
I'm sorry if this is too much, feel free to scroll past đ€§đ
Our Fragile Promise in Magnolia - Cale/Reader
notes: Yes the title is a bunch of Laufey song titles. Shameless plugin but my fics Close and Can I Really have similar concepts to this one
tags: female reader, novel spoilers (war), angst? not sure, very loud unspoken feelings
English isnât my first language so there will be grammatical errors
Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission
Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome
Requests are open and welcome
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_____ stares at a male figureâs back. Sheâs used to looking at it. At finding comfort in it. How can she not? His back always seems so big. So strong. As if itâs capable of shielding her from everything.
However, this time that back looks smaller than how she remembers it.
And _____ is the reason for that.
â_____ donât you dare close your eyes, donât you dare fall asleep on meâ
âWake up! Just why did I get cursed with such an airhead childâŠâ
The woman in front of the girl daydreaming speaks exasperatedly, bringing her back to reality.
It reminds _____ of who she currently is. How sheâs not on earth fighting monsters anymore. How she has been granted another life.
Another life, another suffering.
âFollow me, the meeting is starting.â
The woman, _____âs mother, looked behind her to see if her daughter was still following.
âIf you utter one word that causes our family disgrace you know what will happen to you. Wonât you, my dear?â
_____, whoâs currently 20 years old in this life, is both used to and tired of the sickeningly sweet smile on her motherâs face.
âYes, mother.â
She internally laughs but says nothing outwardly. Just how scared is her mother from the announcement of war that she dared talk to her like that?Â
It reminded her of when she was a child.
A time before she rose to power within that useless family of hers.
âYour name is _____?â
âWhy? Do you have any problem with it?â
âNo, it suits you.â
The woman was taken aback by the nonchalant compliment. The man in front of her has said it as if it didnât mean much. No, for him it probably really didnât mean anything.Â
But it meant the world to _____.
It was the first time she had received a compliment. And for something as insignificant as the name she gave herself.
âThanks, I gave it to myself since no one was willing to name meâ
Were the words she held back from saying, not wanting to ruin the moment.
_____ never would have thought that she would become best friends with that very same man.
Clang!
The young woman watched as the silver plaque hit the table. The noise it made snapped the young woman out of her daydream.
She looked at the silver plaque and saw the crest of the royal family on it.
Itâs easy to understand what it means.
Cale Henituse, the one famous as the young master silver shield, is now officially the Roan Kingdomâs Northeast Commander.
Not that _____ had any issues with it. She has heard about the famous young master. He may be young but he has the qualifications. Plus who is she to question the crownâs decisions?
If the crown has decided that Cale as commander is what the kingdom needs to defend itself against the Indomitable Alliance then so must be it.
However, not once has _____ looked at the famous redhead. Hence why when he started speaking again the young noble took it as a chance to take a good look.
The first thing that caught her attention was his long red hair. It was the same shade as blood. As if he was a vampire that drank so much blood it turned his hair into one.
But it wasnât a gruesome sight. Quite the opposite actually. _____ finds his hair to be very pretty. It reminds her of a beautiful flame thatâs forever ignited. Always strong and never extinguishing despite the strong winds that come its way.
âKim Rok Soo..?â
As soon as _____ saw the commanderâs eyes her world stopped. She knows those eyes very well. Has stared at them countless times for her to not know.
It couldnât be.
Maybe they just have the same eye colour.
Kim Rok Sooâs reddish brown eyes might be rare back in her old world but nothing is impossible in this new one.
So it canât be.
However, she canât deny it.
She canât deny that the way he lands his gaze is the same as him. The sorrow that is buried deep within those copper-like eyes is the same.
The way he stared at her knowingly was the same.
But she still tries.
She tries her best to deny it.
To deny him.
Because it canât be. That canât be him. That canât be her best friend slash love of her life.
Itâs just not possible.
And if it was then she must avoid him as much as possible.Â
For she has changed. And she is well aware of the fact that she has changed. She may have the same face and the same name, but she has become all too different.
She doesnât want her love to see the new version of her.
 Two people sat on the ground. Their back leaning against the sofa behind them. Itâs a rare day when the two of them have a day off so they have decided to spend it by reading novels together.
âIf you try to say another spoiler Iâm going to seal your mouth shut.â
âBut you have to listen to this!â
The woman tries to argue while tapping on a page of the book sheâs currently reading.
âIâll find out about it when I read it.â
âBut I want to talk about it now!â
Kim Rok Soo shook his head at her. As if he couldnât believe this was the same fierce person fighting monsters on the battlefield.
âThen wait.â
_____ internally smiled at the memory. She feels that familiar warmth in her chest she hadnât felt for so long. As she did, she thought that it was a good idea to avoid Cale Henituse. Sheâs not sure if theyâre the same person. And if they were she doesnât know if he remembers her.
But itâs better to be on the safe side.
After all, itâd be embarrassing to see such a lively person turn into a shell of what they used to be.
âJust how long do I have to put up with this?â
_____ mumbled to herself as she picked at her food.
âDid you say something dear?â
âNothing mother.â
She reciprocated her motherâs smile. After years of socializing with this family, she has learned to smile and bear it all. Things will become more complicated if she tries to refute.
âWhereâs the antidote? Mix it in my usual juice.â
_____ orders her maid after lunch. The maid bowed and followed her orders like clockwork.
After all, this wasnât the first time the young lady had been poisoned by her own family.
They see her as both a threat and an asset.
They try to bring her down, make themself look superior. But at the same time, they know that they need her.
Itâs comedic. Really.
âMy lady a letter has arrived.â
_____âs trusted maid hands her a tray that contains a glass of juice and a letter.
âThat seal⊠It looks like itâs from the Henituse family.â
The young lady waved her hand away and the maid went out of the room.
Badump. Badump.
Her heart beats wildly in her chest and itâs not just because of the poison she consumed.
Itâs not uncommon to receive letters from the guardians of the Dark Forest. They are business partners after all.
However _____ couldnât help but feel nervous after the recent events.
Quickly drinking her juice that contains the antidote in one go, the transmigrator pulls the courage to open the letter.
âYou have a very peculiar way of writing. I think Iâd be able to recognize it anywhere.â
_____ hovered over Kim Rok Soo as he wrote something on a piece of paper.
âI would say youâre exaggerating but knowing you two, I wouldnât put it past you.â
Choi Jung Soo spoke up from the couch while eating some sort of junk food.
âAnd whatâs that supposed to mean?â
Rok Soo retaliates. His hands let go of the pencil in order to focus on his sworn brother.
âNothing, nothing. Iâm just saying. But hey, is that any way to speak to your hyung?â
âAgain why are you the hyung? We were born on the same dayâ
âI was born first!â
True to what _____ said, she immediately recognized the handwriting on the letter. Its contents were concise, exactly how he likes to do things.Â
âHe did his homework.â
The letter just said that the commander wanted to have a private meeting with _____ in order to talk about the upcoming war. The young noble instantly understands that he must want to talk about her territoryâs military force.
She may not have an official title. She isnât even declared as an official heir. Yet insiders, those who have a wide information network, will know that _____ is the one in control of her territory.Â
_____ doesnât want to respond. But she has to. He wasnât speaking as Cale Henituse or Kim Rok Soo.Â
He was speaking as Roan Kingdomâs Northeast Commander.
He was standing on business.
For he probably knows thatâs the only way _____ wouldnât avoid him.
Kim Rok Soo holds on the bleeding body in his arms.Â
Bleeding is an understatement.
The left side of her torso is gone. Eaten by the monster they are fighting.
âH ey, do you re member⊠remember our pro mise?â
A weak voice asks him. Kim Rok Soo nodded his head, too choked up to speak.
He does. Of course, he does. How can he forget?
Heâll record everything she says, no matter how trivial they are.
âGreat⊠Th en I guessâ I guess I can rest in pe ace.â
Kim Rok Soo doesnât want that. He doesnât need that.
âDonât close your eyes. Please hold on. For me, for us. Please _____â
He begs. Itâs so uncharacteristically of him to beg, but if it does the trick then heâll do it a million times over.
_____ weakly chuckled. She may be weak and dying but thereâs still fire in her eyes. A fire that will never be extinguished even in the face of death.
⊠or so Cale thought.
The fire that he thought would never die down is barely there in her eyes.
But it was still there.
It may be small. Struggling. But itâs there.
Alive and fighting to be as bright as it was before.
â_____âŠâ
âOur business is now done, Commander Cale Henituse. If you have further business in the future please feel free to send me a letter like before.â
â_____.â
The young ladyâs voice was firm, but Caleâs voice was firmer. He has no plans of letting her run away again.
He wouldnât be able to let her slip from his embrace once more.
âIsnât that concept sweet though?â
The two best friends are talking. They just finished a novel and are now discussing its contents with each other.
âYouâre just a romantic.â
âBut think about it. Promising to find each other even in another universe. Being together in every dimensionâŠâ
_____ stopped talking, lost in thought as she reminisced about the novel. Kim Rok Soo took it as a chance to stare at her face.
He has seen many people. Has read many descriptions of beautiful people in books.
But in his opinion, nothing beats _____âs looks.
Kim Rok Soo might be biased. His willing to admit that much. But his opinion wonât change.
âHey Rok Soo?â
âWhat do you want?â
He grumbled as he suddenly came face to face with his âbest friendâ. Her face was full of excitement as she thought of a new idea.
âLetâs promise each other that in our next life, weâll find each other again. Then letâs spill all of our secrets when we do. Not leaving anything out.â
Her idea sounds childish. Would they even remember anything in their next life? Would they even have a next life? If they did would they recognize each other?
Those were the thoughts that raced through Kim Rok Soo.
However, he doesnât say it.
Because it was a silent confession. The best one they can give each other in this ruined world.
A promise to spill all their secrets huh?
It doesnât need saying. Those secrets were probably talking about their feelings.
âSure, I promise. Weâll meet again in our next life and tell each other everything.â
â_____â
Cale called out for the third time. _____ has changed and Cale has an inkling as to what brought that change.
Nothing he canât handle.
His planning to overthrow an empire. Dealing with a noble family is nothing.
Heâll make things right.
Set things straight.
âI never break my promises. You know that _____.â
Caleâ no Kim Rok Soo will make sure to fulfil his promise.
#trash of the count's family#lout of the countâs family#tcf#le asks#tcf x reader#lcf x reader#totcf x reader#female reader#x female reader#x reader#lotcf x reader#cale x reader#kim rok soo x reader#lcf#cale henituse#lotcf#totcf
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Ner Cyar'ika Baar'ur
Secret Santa Event by @pedrostories
My giftee: @taro-666
Pairing: Din D'jarin x F!Medic!Reader (use of Y/N).
Summary: Working for the Mandalorian as his personal medic, it has become apart of the daily routine to battle against people who threaten his safety, or yours. You're apart of the chaos that comes with the bounty hunting life, but how does one particular quarry change everything between you and Din D'jarin?
WC: 8k
Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI. Fic is set in season one, between episode one to three. Slight changes in the storyline from the TV show. Cursing. Use of Mando'a (with translations). Friends to Lovers. Mutual Pining. Violence and Injury. Angst with a happy ending. Smut. Mentions of wet dreams. Unprotected PIV. Praise kink. Fluff.
AN: Taro! Omg, I've been so excited to share this story with you and to finally come off anon. Hey friend! đ I hope you enjoy the read, my love â€ïž.
@supernaturalgirl20 Thank you so much for the beta, beautiful! You're a star đ„°.
There arenât a lot of things that surprise you these days as a trained medic; youâve been through a lot and have seen nearly twice as much. Having said that, itâs almost as if youâve grown used to the mayhem that comes with treating the sick and the wounded because of your line of work.
For instance, it doesnât surprise you anymore when your boss requires your medical assistance considering he is actually in need of your assistance quite often, and itâs the very reason he hired you in the first place.Â
The Mandalorian is your boss, or Mando as he is known to some, and his involvement in the bounty hunting business was never in your interest at first - your a healer, not a fighter - but where there is a fight, there is almost always a need for someone to be patched up afterwards.Â
Thereâs never a dull moment working with the Mandalorian, his daily life is mayhem, more so in the last several weeks since his workload has been busier than usual and seeing that youâve already adapted to the chaos around treating the sick and wounded, especially on war-torn planets, you quickly adopted his chaotic lifestyle as well.
There wasnât much difference truthfully, only that you were treating one patient instead of several a day, and rather than coming to you for medical treatment, Mando offered you to move into his ship as an alternative. You didnât oppose the idea and accepted his offer, not only because the pay is better, but the company is welcome too.
As well as this, you didnât mind moving into Mandoâs ship because he used to visit you regularly for medical attention back on Nevarro. That's where The Bounty Hunterâs Guild is situated, itâs their home base, and although you only stayed in the city for seven months, you didnât particularly enjoy your time on the volcanic planet. Itâs a world of black sand, rocky terrain, and rivers flowing with lava instead of water. Â
While it was beautiful to gaze upon at night, it was also deadly as the Reptavion's used the darkness to their advantage, hunting anything it could carry before taking flight. Nevarro provided work opportunities and credits, but it wasnât a place to call home.
However, the volcanic planet is where you met Mando for the very first time. During the months you were staying in the city, you were working in a small medical clinic, and there were plenty more suitable facilities for the man to visit, but he chose your place of work instead.
At first, you assumed it was for discretion as the clinic's unspoken rule was âask no question, hear no liesâ, but sometimes he would come to see you with minor injuries that could be treated by his own hands, thus leading you to believe that he was interested in more than just your help. Besides, you enjoyed the man's company when he would come to visit you. He wasnât much of a talker back then, but as time passed, he gradually opened up.
Moving into the man's ship brought you closer to each other. You became his partner more than his employee, and you love your job because it simply doesnât feel like a job. It feels like you're working with a trusted friend, sharing the riches and helping each other out.
Whether or not he was actually in need of your service back on Nevarro doesnât matter. What matters is that he saw an opportunity with your skills and presented a deal to make your working life better - which it has.
Ever since you moved in with him, your life has become better in so many ways; you now have a place to call home, and you have a friend you can rely on without the niggling doubt of betrayal in the back of your mind.Â
Since you were always on the move before, you adopted a cautious nature with everyone regarding every little detail in your life. You never did fully trust people, but you do with Mando. Things are different with him, and one of the many reasons why it's different with him is because you know the man underneath the beskar.Â
Many people have heard of Mando. Theyâve heard the stories about his reputation in the Bounty Hunters Guild, about how he is the best in the parsec, but his past and identity remain a mystery. Even to you, to some extent, but youâve heard the stories too, heard âwarriorâ in the whispers and itâs true. He is a fine warrior, one that fights with grace and loyalty to the cause. His cause; his culture and his religion - the way of Mandalore.Â
While many call him Mando, or the Mandalorian in the Guild, you know him as Din Dâjarin. You have not yet had the pleasure to see his identity, but hopefully one day you will have that pleasure and the honour. These are just some of the many reasons why you love your job, but to put it simply; itâs because of Din.Â
Since there arenât a lot of things that surprise you anymore in your line of work and partnership with the man, that doesnât mean thereâs nothing that surprises you. Take these last few days for example, it started off with the same regular chaos, but eventually became something youâre not familiar with.Â
The loading bay of the Razor Crest is almost packed full of quarries, frozen solid in the carbonite blocks with one more space remaining for the Mythrol. You helped Din as far as your abilities could, and since the tracking fob for the Mythrol led him to a public house on the icy planet, Pagadon, you stayed back on the ship and waited for his return.Â
And of course, it came as no shock when Din returned with the Mythrol, thankfully without any injuries, but the blue-skinned man tried to pull a fast one. However, it wasnât fast enough as the Mandalorian was two steps ahead of the trickery. He always is.
Still, just like the normalities in the bounty hunting life, you made your way back to Nevarro and met with Greef Karga in the cantina to offload the carbonite blocks, receive your payments and gather more tracking fobs leading to more quarries.
The surprise began when the words âoff the booksâ were uttered by Greef himself and from the moment Din took his next job, you had mixed feelings. There was no chain code on the quarry, all you had was their age. Then, Din wouldnât allow you to accompany him when meeting the client and the very fact he was protective of you in that sense, made you worry about their business.Â
In the Guild, itâs common knowledge that you donât ask questions about the criminals you hunt. You just get the job done and let the proper authorities serve justice, but something was gnawing at your gut. As the day went on and the chaos continued, the doubts slowly began to fade as you settled back into normality.Â
The tracking fob led you to a desert planet, Arvala-7, where you met with a kind man named Kuiil working on a moisture farm. It was especially fun watching Din trying to mount the Blurrg and learn to ride them, but you, too, had to learn in order to join his travels to the Nikto Hideout - where the quarry was.Â
By the afternoon, you and Din had mastered the art of riding the creatures and you set off to capture the quarry. Just like any other day in the bounty hunting life, there was nothing surprising or out of the ordinary. You worked together like you always do and after leaving you at a safe distance away from the hideout, Din moved forward on his own.Â
As battle ensued, you watched from afar and used comms to help the man out. He fought magnificently. More often than not, his skills leave you awestruck. Mesmerized. You prepared yourself and stocked up on the medical supplies before leaving the moisture farm earlier, but remained hopeful that there wasnât a need for them.Â
When the fight was over, the enemy threats were eliminated and Din was unharmed, you made your way to him and entered the hideout together to find the quarry, but when you first laid your eyes on the target, that unsettled feeling returned to your gut. It was an infant baby, a little green baby with big ears and the cutest eyes youâve ever seen.Â
Although you remembered that you donât ask questions in the Guild about the quarries, you couldnât help wondering, and worrying, about what the client wants with the child. It couldnât be anything good if Din didnât want you present in the meeting with them on Nevarro.
You had many doubts and suspicions, so many that you couldnât find a single rational explanation as to why a baby had a bounty on its head. Naturally, you asked Din all of the questions you had, but he didnât have any answers.
Now, as you both make your way back to the Razor Crest with the baby through the mountainous canyons of Arvala-7, you still canât shake off the nerves around this whole ordeal. Din is many things; a fine warrior in battle, a man of few words, emotionally shielded and well guarded, cold and merciless to those who threaten his safety, or yours, but careless? No, never.
The man isnât careless. He cares greatly, and deeply, and he, too, knows that something is off about this job. Youâve known Din Dâjarin for the last two years and you can sense when the man is nervous. Heâs quiet, too quiet, and you donât like when his mind is on overdrive because if he is worried about this job, then you should be fearful.Â
âAlright. What is it?â You finally break the silence to ask, eager to make sense of his sudden edgy state of mind. Halting your walk and turning to face him, you perch both hands to your hips and tilt your head to the side in question, adding emphasis to your desire for answers.Â
The baby situated in his floating pod remains close by, right between you and Din as a matter of fact, and he looks up at you both with curiosity. You fight the urge to look at him, to avoid his influence on you as a woman with maternal instincts. The little guy's presence has undoubtedly caused a heavy bout of uncertainty over your heads, a little rift between you and Mando. Not something of the bad kind, but something unfamiliar and foreign. Heâs a child, just an innocent baby, so itâs a confusing and an extremely foreign feeling for you both to be transporting him like heâs just another quarry when he isnât like any other quarry youâve ever transported before.Â
âDin, talk to me,â You shake your head now, frustration evident in your tone, âWhat is it? Whatâs got you nervous?â You ask again, although the answer is obvious. Itâs because of the baby and all the questions he has for the client, but you want to hear him say it.Â
To hear Din himself say that something isnât right will validate your reasons to be worried, but you were met with silence yet again. The man wasnât even paying attention to you, he was too focused on the little lizards scurrying across the sand. âMando.â Stepping forward and calling him the name that everyone else uses, that usually gets his attention, you open your mouth to speak but the words didnât even make it past your lips as he shoved you back.Â
You fell down and watched as he turned swiftly, gun in hand at the ready to shoot, but a blade whacked it out of his grasp, a blade wielded by a Trandoshan. You and Din both lock onto the tracking fob on his hip, the flashing red dot and audible beep familiar, before he then shoves the floating pod away, keeping the baby out of harm's reach. Thereâs more than one tracking fob, therefore thereâs more bounty hunters looking for the child. Bounty Hunters who are careless and donât ask questions.Â
Neither one of you can allow the baby to leave your sight or allow him to fall into the wrong hands, thus causing your legs to act before your mind can think. You quickly rise from the floor and move in to help Din wherever you can. He smites the Trandoshan and they tumble to the floor. Then, he takes the blade from him, before turning around to throw it toward you.
âStay with the baby.â He orders firmly, and you listen to his instructions. Trusting his fighting skills better than your own, you take a few steps back and give him the space he needs to wield his weapons without hurting you.Â
However, another Trandoshan jumps out of cover. âBehind you!â You yell, giving Din a heads up just in time to evade the direction of a blade coming down in his path. The fight continues, and you take a few more steps back to look up, checking the surroundings to ensure there arenât any more hunters hiding in the shadows. But there was. âAnother one, on your left.â You call out. Again just in time as another Trandoshan jumps down from a ledge.Â
With one enemy on the floor, but recovering quickly, the odds werenât in Dinâs favour. It wasnât a fair fight, even though youâre pretty sure he can handle himself, you worry for his safety nonetheless. And although you're not a fighter, youâll be damned if you donât try to help even out the odds against him.Â
After checking that the baby was safe in his pod, you move toward the closest Trandoshan and raise your weapon. His back was turned, giving you the upper hand to land a blow without deadly consequence. Using the blunt side of the blade, you struck the back of his legs, causing him to stumble forward just at the right time for Din to throw his arms out and punch him in the face, knocking him unconscious as he fell to the floor.Â
Now that the odds were evened out, you watched Dinâs movements with laser-like focus and only intervened when you saw the right moment. You were sure he could handle himself, and you were right, but the element of surprise was the only advantage the Trandoshans had over him in the beginning. He fought the remaining two easily, eventually leaving all three unconscious and regretful for ever trying to take on a skilled Mandalorian.Â
He turns to you, nodding appreciatively. âGood moves there, meshâla - thank you.âÂ
âDonât mention it,â You shake your head, âYou did all the heavy lifting. I was just lending a hand.â You mumble with a sheepish grin on your lips.Â
âBut I know how you donât like to fight,â He argues gently with a slight chuckle in his modulated voice. âYou fought with me. Accept my gratitude, sweet girl.âÂ
âOk, ok - youâre welcome, Din.â Your smile deepens with flattery as he stands before you with what you can only describe as pride. It was the way he looked at you; his helmet slightly tilted to the side, displaying the reflection of your own face, and his hands resting on his hips with a puffed out chest.Â
Since you canât see the man's facial expression, all youâre left with his body language and tone of voice to understand how he feels. And right now, you not only feel a sense of pride from him, but a flicker of attraction too. Itâs in the air. The chemistry, the spark, itâs surrounding you both, and itâs something you feel quite often, but never have the courage to act on.Â
Youâre almost certain that the friendship between you and Din means something more, or at least, itâs heading towards something more. But the intimate moments you share with each other, brief moments like this, make you wonder why he doesnât make a move.
You donât even have to see the man's face to know that heâs eyeing you up and down. Upon feeling him lean in, something youâve felt him do many times before, you muster up the courage to lean in as well.
However, the confidence escapes him at the last second and he pulls back, clearing his throat awkwardly. âWe should leave now, meshâla,â He says, breaking the silence and just like that, the moment is over. â We need to get back on track and complete the job.â
What? You ask yourself as your mouth falls open and your eyes widen, exhibiting your shock and disbelief. After everything that has happened today, especially after a brawl against three Trandoshans, you're shocked that he is still going to hand the baby over to the client. Din picked up on your reaction instantly and straightened his back, as if preparing himself for a dispute.Â
âExcuse me?â You scoff, your cheeks burning up again for an entirely different reason now. It wasnât flattery, or attraction, it was anger. âDin, you canât be serious. We canât hand the baby over to the client. Especially now that we know other hunters are after him too-â You walk over to one of the Trandoshans laying on the ground and retrieve their tracking fob before presenting it to him, â-The client gave you the job, but handed out more fobs? It doesn't feel right and you know it.âÂ
âCyarâika, please donât do this.â He sighs while running his gloved hand over the scruff of his neck, the pleadings in his voice for you to not argue about this falling on deaf ears. You are most certainly going to argue about this with him. You cross your arms and shake your head, like you had already settled the argument without even uttering another word. But, the dispute was nowhere near settled. âNeed I remind you of the code in the Guild?â He asks with a bite to his tone of voice, âIf you donât like this job, Iâll finish this one on my own.âÂ
âOn your own?â You laugh humourlessly while waving the tracking fob. âGood luck with that when the whole Guild could have these! What happens if you get hurt? What then?â Biting back with your own set of questions, you watch as the man huffs a short breath and turns away from you, evidently maddened with your bickering. âDonât turn away. Answer me -â You give him a second to answer, but grow impatient as you're met with a lengthy silence once again. â- What happens if you get hurt, Mando? You canât do this alone.âÂ
Din turns to you now and stands close, his voice raised to a level that hurts. âI was doing just fine on my own two years ago, Y/N.â Turning away again, as if he couldnât stand another second looking at you or spend any more time arguing, it didnât matter anyways as you had ultimately lost the dispute. You give him another second, another chance to make things right and take back what he said, but he doesnât turn around or mutter a single word.Â
âOkay then,â You mumble, lowering your head, âAm I just the medic? Is that all I am to you?â You ask, and still, the man doesnât turn to face you or answer your question. The silence spoke for him and that was all you needed to know before turning around to walk away. You gave him plenty of chances to fix his mistake, but only until your back was turned did he try.Â
âCyar'ika.â He calls out for you, finally coming to his senses, but it wasnât quick enough as you didnât respond to him. You made your way towards the baby and the sound of your muffled cries made his head hang low with shame. No matter how quiet you tried to be, your cries were audible to his ears, enhanced by the mechanics in his helmet.Â
Although you were quite visibly sad, he watched you put on a fake smile and talk to the baby like nothing was wrong. The warmness of your soul shone through the misery, causing the little guy to beam and babble baby nonsense. It was a sight so beautiful to witness, so beautiful that it was distracting.Â
Din canât allow himself to get too wrapped up in the emotions that the child brings. Itâs conflicting, confusing andâŠÂ foreign. Heâs never felt this way before. Never felt this way before with any woman around a child, but itâs different with you and it clouds his mind, throws him off balance and disrupts his focus so much that he doesnât pay attention to whatâs most important right now. Like the danger lingering in the immediate surroundings.Â
âY/N!â The man calls to you again, his voice was laden with urgency. âBehind you! Y/N - behind you.â Sprinting toward your position while swinging the strap of his amban rifle around his chest, Din takes aim at another Trandoshan and fires, obliterating the reptilian humanoid to a thousand dust particles.Â
You fall down, your knees hitting the sandy terrain below as your pained cries penetrate the sound of his beating heart deafening his ears. You took a hit from the Trandoshan, his blade had cut through your clothes and marked your skin before he was blasted into organic matter.Â
âMeshâla.â He choked. Rushing over and kneeling on the ground behind you, he reaches out to hold your arms. The injury you sustained was across your back, diagonally, at least three inches long and almost half an inch deep. A clean cut, but angry red and weeping with blood. âEasy now, sweet girl. Youâre bleeding, just take it easy.â He reassures you with a slight tremble in his tone, his worry for your well-being perceivable.Â
âThe disinfectant,â You hissed in reply whilst shaking your head, âGet the disinfectant. Itâs in my satchel, Mando.â Gently removing your satchel over your shoulder, he places the bag onto the floor and opens it up to search through your medical supplies. Supplies that are normally used for him. Thereâs irony in the fact you became a medic to treat others, not yourself, and the man despises that his involvement in the bounty hunting business has caused you harm.Â
And although he is helping to the best of his knowledge, youâre directing him on what to do. âOpen the cap and pour a generous amount over the wound.â You explain, then grab his hand on your hip to hold onto for comfort. He begins to ask if youâre sure, but couldnât even finish his sentence as your sobbing plea cut him off. âYes-yes! Just get it over with. Please, Din.âÂ
Listening to your instructions, he held his breath and prepared himself as he began dousing your back with disinfectant. You bawled with agony, your back arching away from him naturally with the instinct to stop the pain, but to his regret, he pulled you towards him and continued to pour. He clenches his jaw as you cry, his fingers almost turning blue from the force of your grip on his hand. âIâm sorry.â He apologizes, to which you donât accept and stutter in reply. âThis isnât y-your fault.âÂ
Releasing your hand to place his thumb and forefinger on your chin, he tilts your head to look at him before leaning in. âIâm sorry, Y/N - for this, for yelling at you, for saying that I was doing just fine two years ago and⊠and youâre not just a medic.â He rests his helmet against your head and whispers, though his voice breaks with remorse. âYouâre so much more than that, meshâla. You mean so much to me.âÂ
âDin, I-â You open your mouth to object, but he cuts you off by holding his thumb over your lips while shushing you. âDonât speak and conserve your energy, weâll talk about it later. Just let me take care of you first.â He says.Â
âNo, DinâŠâ You sigh, eyes blinking slowly while slurring your words. âI was going⊠going to say that I⊠I canât keep my eyes⊠I don't feel goodâŠâ Your body becomes limp as you fall into his arms. Your vision darkens quickly, and the last thing you saw before everything went black was the baby's eyes looking at you as he peaks over the pod.
The next time you awoke, it was a brief moment of consciousness. The familiar sound of Dinâs amban rifle could be heard as he fired off multiple rounds and your eyes glimmered open to see his legs, the bandolier of cartridges wrapped around his calf. You saw his gloved hand reaching for ammunition to load into his weapon and worried as to why he needed them.Â
âItâs ok. Everything is ok,â he says upon noticing you were awake and were fighting to keep your eyes open. âWeâre safe here. Go back to sleep, cyarâika.âÂ
Eyes closing once again, you couldnât keep them open no matter how hard you tried to, and his voice soon faded as you slipped into a deep slumber. The silence took over and, oddly, it felt comforting. Although it only felt like minutes had passed, you knew it must have been longer as your surroundings were different.Â
There was no longer a warm breeze, but the cold presence of steel pressing into your side, and beneath you, it felt spongy and soft, thus indicating you were laying on a bed. The unmistakable sound of Kuiilâs voice could be heard in the distance as he makes the baby laugh and you open your eyes to confirm your assumptions on your whereabouts, but are met with locks of brown hair instead.Â
Itâs Din. Heâs the cold presence of steel pressing into your side as he sat on the edge of the bed and itâs his hair that you were currently staring at with wide eyes. His back was turned, but you could still see the back of his head and instantly shut your eyes, fearing that if you spent one more second looking, you wouldnât be able to turn away.Â
âMando,â You whisper immediately, panicking, then feel him moving around. âMando, why donât you have your helmet on? Stars! I could have seen your face.â
You begin to shift your position to turn away from him, but are reminded of the wound on your back. The pain struck you suddenly and harshly, causing Dinâs hands to dart out to cover your eyes just in time as you opened them with instinct. He was gentle but quick. âItâs ok, meshâla. You canât see, itâs ok.â He reassures you through the strained whimpers slipping past your lips.Â
âWhere is your helmet?â You ask, getting your teeth. You close your eyes again once the surge of pain passes over and the soothing properties of bacta gel takes over. You can feel the substance on your back, feel the stuff working to heal your injury. âMy eyes are closed now. Itâs safe but⊠Shit, Din. I saw your hair.â You say apologetically.Â
âItâs fine, sweet girl.â He chuckles softly, the sound making your mouth fall open with shock as you retort. âItâs not funny. Iâm not allowed to see you - or your hair! What⊠W-what happens now?â You ask, to which he laughs again and startles you unintentionally when reaching out to cup your cheek. You werenât expecting to feel his gloved fingers on your skin, but you quickly leaned into his touch as his gesture brought consolation.Â
âLook at me,â He requests, âIt's safe to look, I promise.âÂ
Rolling your eyes behind closed lids, you make a surprised sound when he caresses your cheek with his thumb. Again, you werenât expecting the comforting gesture, but deeply appreciated it. And whether or not it was the bacta gel or Din easing the discomfort in your back, you chose to believe it was the latter.
A short moment passes before you finally open your eyes and find relief in the T shape of his helmet. Although you would love nothing more than to see his identity, the face of his helmet is what you know, itâs home. Your face softens as you relax into the palm of his hand, but the importance and worry around your question still lingers, thus causing you to ask again. âWhat happens now? I thought I wasnât allowed to see you without the helmet, doesnât that also mean I canât see your hair?âÂ
âYou didnât see my face, nor did you remove my helmet, meshâla,â He shakes his head, his voice soft like honey, âItâs okay and besides-â He turns his head, displaying the brown locks of his hair at the base of his neck, â-You can see my hair with the helmet on.âÂ
âOh,â You whisper with intrigue, âSurprised I didnât notice sooner, but your hair isâŠâ Lifting your hand with a desire to touch his hair, you back out at the last second and retract your arm, but Din felt your movements and quickly assured. âGo ahead. I trust you.âÂ
You reach out again and caress the base of his neck, your fingertips massaging his scalp which draws out the heaviest sounding exhale youâve ever heard from him; a sigh of relief, filled with endearment and relaxation. It was a gratifying feeling, seeing and hearing the man lean into your touch without fear of betrayal in this moment of vulnerability. Din is vulnerable at this moment, his guard is down and just the mere thought of removing his helmet sickens you. It never crosses your mind.Â
âYour hair is beautiful, Din.â You murmur sweetly, a smile on your lips displaying your satisfaction and joy from something so simple. The action of touching his hair which youâd love to do again, to feel him melt in your arms like soft putty and feel a sense of home from your touch, like you feel a sense of home when looking into the T-shape of his visor.Â
You gently squeeze the base of his neck, a way of reassuring him, before pulling your hand back, however, it was apparent that he wanted more as he sharply held your wrist and directed your hand back to his hair. âPlease?â He asks in a whispered breath, hopeful and optimistic, desperate. âKeep playing with my hair, ner cyarâika.âÂ
You laugh, a mixture of surprise and confusion obvious in your tone. The difference in his pet name for you was confusing, and his request for you to continue playing with his hair was surprising. Though, you granted his request gladly and began playing with his hair. âWhat does cyarâika mean anyway?â You ask, tilting your head with interest while wondering what faces he was making under the helmet from your massaging movements. âIs there a difference when you say ner cyarâika?â
âYes.â He groans in reply, the sound drawing out another laugh from your lips as your smile deepens. You open your mouth to ask another question, until he turns his head to face you and leans across your body. The pause in his manoeuvre speaks of hesitancy, unsure on whether or not you were comfortable with what was about to do.Â
The question you had vanishes from your mind as you nod to the man, nodding with confirmation for him to lay down and rest his head in your arms. The bed in which you lay on didnât feel small until Mando lay on it with you. Not that you minded anyway, but it really detailed the size and stature of the man, especially the broad expanse of his chest and back.Â
He raised both hands to his helmet, and before he could even ask, you closed your eyes with baited breath as he removed it to optimize the comfiest position. The position he chose however, was burying his face between your neck and shoulder. You didn't release the breath you were holding, it was snatched from your lungs.
Somewhere in the back of your mind, you thought this day would come, but doubt is what kept it at the back of your mind. You never entertained the idea of laying in bed with Mando too much as it felt like a pipe dream to have the man in your arms like this, and now that you do, it feels better than you ever could have imagined.
The pain in your back is practically non-existent now, almost as if you never even sustained an injury, and thatâs because of his presence, his proximity and his comfort. It wasnât a struggle to keep your eyes closed as you basked in the sensation of him carefully laying his weight over you like this.
Something else youâve also thought about in the past, but tried not to think about too much, is Din laying over you for an entirely different reason. And perhaps itâs because of the level of intimacy in this position that brings those thoughts back to the surface, or maybe it was the electrifying feeling of his lips pressed against your skin.Â
The man wasnât exactly kissing you per se, but the bare contact of his lips placed against your neck like this felt like a kiss. Besides, the vest shirt that you wore left a lot of skin on your chest on display, thus providing Din, and yourself, to relish in skin-to-skin contact.
You could feel his beard, it was a light amount of hair, grazing against you with every little movement of his head. Soon, though, all of those little movements from Din became obvious that he was uncomfortable, as if he kept moving slightly to adjust his comfort.
âWant me to stop?â You ask, wondering if he has had enough of you playing with his hair, but to your delight, he shook his head as he inhaled deeply. He smiles against your skin, thus piquing your interest. âWhat? What is it?â You laugh bashfully.Â
âYou smell good, ner cyarâika.â He replies, nestling his nose into your neck to inhale the natural scent of you. The smile on your face is yet to fade, his actions are what keeps your lips turned upwards, that was until you felt something wet dart onto your skin. It was brief, too brief, but you felt it nonetheless.
It was Dinâs tongue, and your smile disappears as you bite your lip, leaving a hankering desire to feel it again. Your skin heats up beneath him as you entertain those thoughts about him lying over you like this for a different reason. You think about how youâve yearned for his gloved fingers to touch other areas of your body, and as well as wondering about his identity, youâve also wondered what he looks like nude. A mind is an imaginative place, and youâve imagined him naked more than once. You sigh softly with the ache between your legs, wishing Din to be the one who eases it.Â
âMeshâla,â He mumbles, grabbing your attention, and when you hum in reply to him, he asks: âIs everything ok? Your heart is racing -â Your eyes spring open with worry, feeling like he could see your dirty thoughts, thus causing your heart to pound harder, â- Hey, hey, relax. I can move, am I making you uncomfortable?â He asks, blaming himself for your panic. Although he is to blame, itâs not for the reason he thinks.Â
âNo, itâs justâŠâ You falter with finding the right words, but the patience to wait for him any longer escapes you. âItâs just that I felt your tongue on my neck and if⊠Stars, this is going to be embarrassing if Iâm wrong⊠and if you did it purposely, then I want to feel it again, butâŠâ You gulp, gathering your courage to admit your feelings, â...But if it was just a mistake, then I think that we should maybe stop what weâre doing because Iâm attracted to you Din.âÂ
âYou are?â He asks, to which you reply firmly. âYes. Yes, I am.âÂ
âSoâŠâ He smiles, âYou like this?â He asks before placing an open mouthed kiss to your neck, his tongue darting out onto your skin again, thus eliciting you to sigh breathily. âY-yes. Yes, I like that.â Your eyes close naturally as he plants another kiss on your skin, still with a smile on his lips, as he begins to pant. âIâm attracted to you too. Have been for a long time, ner cyarâika.âÂ
âOh, Din.â You moan. With arousal and relief, his admission makes you moan, the sound acting as a catalyst as he moves down your body, his head disappearing under the covers eagerly to hear you moan again. âAre you able to lay on your back?â You hear him ask, though his voice was muffled, you heard him clearly and nod frantically with excitement.
Shifting your position to accommodate him, you couldnât feel the pain in your back anymore and slipped your hands beneath the covers, your fingers finding his hair with ease. âItâs ok, Iâm comfortable lying like this.â You say while focusing on his every move with anticipation. You could feel his breath fanning across your lower stomach, his fingers hooked inside the waistband of your pants as he leans in to place another kiss on your skin.Â
You lift your hips up with a silent request, one that he understood without a need for words, and begins pulling your pants down, along with your underwear. He leans in and presses his lips to your inner thigh, nipping a path toward your sex. You unintentionally begin gripping his hair by the handfuls, evidently desperate to feel his tongue delve into your slick folds. The man doesnât waste time and gives in to his own desperation.Â
âDin!â You whine upon feeling the tip of his tongue meet your clit. He teases you at first, moving his tongue in a circular motion with a feather-light touch, the action making your hips lift off the bed to search for more. You feel him smiling against your inner thigh, clearly satisfied with your reactions, before he closes his lips around your sensitive bud and sucks gently.
You let go of his hair to hold the back of your palm over your mouth, quieting your mewls of pleasure to a respectable level. Considering all the noises Din himself is making was driving you feral, it was a struggle to try and keep quiet. He sounded hungry, like a man starved for a taste of your sweetness right from the source, as if he had dreamed of this moment and was making the most of it now that itâs a reality.
Your hands abandoned his hair to grip handfuls of the bed sheets instead, your back arching as you tilt your head to the side and bury your face into the pillow. Your orgasm crept up on you, started off with a happy cramp in your stomach but quickly became bliss as he eased a finger inside your entrance, soothing the ache in your velvety walls. Din grunted heavily, needily, as he drank your desire.
He continued to flick his tongue against your clit while angling his finger into a come hither motion, caressing that sweet spot deep inside. The stars behind your eyes and the goosebumps rippling across your body never felt so good before, especially from the simple act of receiving oral. Itâs been a while, a long while, since youâve last felt the pleasurable touch of your own hands, let alone a man's pair of hands.
You needed this, needed to release all your pent up sexual energy, though it only made you insatiable for more. âDin,â You call to him, calling on his help to your frustrations, âDin, I need you.âÂ
Suddenly, his hand emerges from the quilt, âHere,â he says, handing you a blindfold. âPut this on for me, sweet girl.â He asks, to which you oblige and pull the item over your eyes hastily. âReady - now get up here, I need to feel you.âÂ
Moving up your body without having to tell him twice, he travels slowly and plants kisses on your skin along the way, his smile never fading as he takes in the sight of you beneath him. âGarâre bid meshâla⊠(youâre so beautiful).â He growls wantonly, â...Bid, bid meshâla (so, so beautiful).â
âIâm not sure what that means,â You giggle, the smile on your lips as wide as ever, âBut I like the way you say it.â You reach out carefully in search of his face, to which he helps by directing your hands, and once you feel him, you gasp. âStars! Youâre so beautiful,â you whisper in awe as you trace the outline of his facial features, âYour lips⊠your cheekbones⊠nose⊠jawline⊠everything about you is beautiful, Din.âÂ
âThank you, sweet girl.â He breathes, eyes closing to relish in the soft touch of your palms cupping his cheeks. âIâll teach you Mandoâa and soon you will understand everything I say, but I said you were beautiful too. So beautiful.â He explains, causing your cheeks to burn once again with flattery as you pull him closer. His lips press against yours with a bruising kiss, and you couldnât help but moan because of the raw passion and loving desire to finally feel what youâve yearned for.Â
Although there was a hint of desperation in his bid to remove your clothes, Din was gentle with his movements, gentle and respectful. You helped remove his clothes too, and with each inch of skin revealed, you marvelled at the bare touch of him pressing against you. Youâve seen areas of the man's skin before when taking care of his injuries, but never fully seen him naked.Â
Using your sense of touch to see, you feel his body and drag your fingers along his chest, feeling the brute strength that he holds. The strength of a warrior. Between your legs, you feel his member pressing against your cunt and it was an impressive size. Aching to be buried in your warm. His breath bellowing across your face, hot and heavy, laden with the same sound of relief from earlier when you played with his hair as you admire his body now.Â
âCyarâika.â He groans. Placing his hands beside your head, you feel his body shudder with need, his hips rolling forward ever so slightly to ease the throb that burdens his cock. You slip your hands around the base of his neck, pulling him in to close the gap and kissing his lips whilst parting your legs. As he lines himself up at your entrance, your hands fall to his biceps, holding him tightly as you prepare from the breach.Â
âNngh,â you break off to moan, deeply and satisfyingly, âFuck, Din! Keep going.â You lift your head off the pillow to kiss him again, letting him swallow all the little pretty noises you were making as he carefully buried himself to the hilt. Your walls opened up with ease, stretching to accommodate his size. âItâs ok,â You say, pleading for him to move. âIâm ok.âÂ
âAre you sure, meshâla?â He asks, to which you nod in reply. âWaited so long for this,â pulling his hips back slowly, he grabs onto your thigh for leverage before burying himself into your cunt again. âDank Farrik!â He grunts across your face, âSo warm and tight. Better than I imagined, sweet girl.âÂ
The sound of his filthy words made you mewl, having never heard the man speak this way before, you were surprised, yet growing more aroused and confident to be honest with him. âI used to think⊠Shit!â You stutter as he grinds into you, drawing out a moan from your lips, â...I used to think about this. In the night, while you were sleeping in your bunk, Iâd think about you making love to me.â You admit.Â
âOh fuck.â Din gasps. Picking up his pace while resting his forehead against yours, his moans broken and breathless, his cock reaches a new depth inside your cunt, hitting that sweet spot inside over and over again. âIâm so relieved to hear you say that,â he says, âI took myself in hand many nights thinking about you." Â
âFuck, fuck, fuck!â You quickly warn upon feeling the peak of your climax racing toward you. âIâm close. Stars! Iâm so close. Keep talking to me.â You cry, feeling yourself on the verge of tearing up from the intensity of your pleasure, but the sound of his voice keeps you tethered to the moment, preventing you from floating up to cloud nine.Â
âI would dream about you often,â He groans while holding the base of your neck, his thumbs dragging across your skin reassuringly, âWet dreams, meshâla. I felt so ashamed, but⊠Fuck, they felt so good. Dreaming about you in my sleep felt so good.âÂ
âMore⊠Tell me more.â You hiss. Wrapping your legs around his back and locking your ankles together, you feel his hips falter as he moans through gritted teeth. âYour pussy, nngh! Iâd dream about your pussy wrapped around me, taking my load, meshâla. Again and again until you couldnât hold any more and it dripped out of you. Fuck! Iâm gonna⊠Shit, Y/N, Iâm coming-â He cuts himself off with a needy whine, throwing his head back with bliss as he feels you clenching around him.Â
âI-Inside,â You begged him, âPlease, Din. Come inside of me.â The man couldnât stop himself even if he tried to. You felt him reach climax, the warmth of his release spreading inside of you, coating your velvety walls as they pulsed around him, as if milking him of everything he could give. âMando. Fuuck, Mando!â You mewled directly into his ear, your eyes screwed shut behind the blindfold as his orgasm pushed you over the edge.Â
White static casted over your eyes as your ears ring loudly, your heart thrums in your chest as nothing but pleasure courses through your veins. You unintentionally dig your nails into his back, clawing at his skin as he reverts to a slow grind into your cunt, the movements pleasuring your clit and prolonging the ecstasy of your high. âThatâs it, sweet girl. There you go.â He praises you through it as he comes down from his orgasm, the sound of his voice overstimulating.Â
Resting your head back against the pillow as you come down, breathing heavily, he plants loving kisses along your jawline and neck. âSo pretty like this.â He whispers sweetly, his voice heavy with satisfaction as your hands find his face again. âAre you okay?â He asks.Â
âHowâŠâ Your voice croaks, âHow do you say happy in Mandoâa?âÂ
âBriikase,â He chuckles, to which you reply with a smile. âWell, Iâm briikase right now. Really briikase.âÂ
âMe too, cyarâika-â He pauses to brush the hair away from your face, correcting himself. âNer cyarâika baarâur.â You open your mouth to ask another question, to ask what difference in his pet names mean, but he leans in to catch your lips in a fervent kiss instead.Â
Din pulls back, looking to where your eyes would be behind the blindfold while caressing your cheek. âNer cyarâika baarâur... my darling medic. Niâm ori briikase as pirusti bal ni kar'taylir darasuum gar, meshâla... Iâm very happy as well and I love you, beautiful.âÂ
You make a surprised sound when hearing some familiar words in his language and learning what they mean, that he has said them before in the past. âI love you too, Din.â You say earnestly, the tears staining the fabric of his blindfold, which you now just realized that heâs kept in his pocket in hopes to use with you one day, like today. You not only became Din Dâjarinâs medic, but you became his - his darling medic.Â
There arenât a lot of things that surprise you these days as a trained medic, but that doesnât mean nothing surprises you anymore. These last few days have been adventurous and emotional, foreign and unfamiliar, life-threatening and dangerous. Itâs been life-changing for you and the Mandalorian, and itâs all because of a baby. The little guys presence not only sparked your maternal instincts, but the protective fatherly instincts within Din too.Â
And, although neither of you know it now, the baby is only just the beginning of your treacherous journey across the stars in search of reuniting him with his people.
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#pedrostoriesgift22#pedrostories#din djarin#din djarin fiction#din djarin fic#din djarin fanfiction#the mandalorian fic#the mandalorian fanfiction#din djarin x reader#din djarin x female oc#din djarin x fem!reader#din djarin x you#din djarin x female reader#the mandalorian x f!reader#the mandalorian x female reader#the mandalorian x y/n#the mandalorian x you#the mandalorian x reader#din djarin angst#din djarin fluff#din djarin smut#the mandalorian angst#the mandalorian fluff#the mandalorian smut#pedro pascal character#pedro pascal character fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#pearlyfics#follow đ share â€ïž enjoy đ#enjoyreaders
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Healing -Vladimir Makarov
A/N: this is not me telling you how reader looks^
Based on a request:
i love love LOVE the great war. iâm foaming at the mouth for a part 2 BUT can you maybe do something with vlad and his love taking a bath while he reads her poetry or something along the lines. again love your work you truly are amazing đ·
---- F!Reader, fluff/romance, wife!reader, husband!Makarov, poetry read, pregnant!reader ----
It's been a long day, Vladimir and you haven't seen each other since you left bed. And now, as you walk inside your home, he greets you with a warm meal. "Ah, the girl I have been waiting for." He walks to you, wrapping you in his hold. "What's all this about?" you ask curiously. His hand on your belly, "I think my sweet wife deserves a treat, after all, you did some hard work today." He teases. "Shopping is a sport," you kiss his cheek and he guides you to the warm kitchen. For months since he found out he would become a father, he gave you a credit card, 'spend it on you and our little one.' he said and every day, he sends you out with at least two of his men to buy at least ten things.
He wanted this all to be a thank you, for turning his life around and giving him a new purpose and as you both eat a meal he so carefully cooked with love, he finds himself admiring you. You look up, insecure for some reason until he smiles. "Did you know you are the kind of woman men write poems about?" He continues eating and you feel yourself blushing and a rush of happiness. One thing about your husband is that he knows what to say and how to make you feel, especially, now that you carry your first child.
You look at him, "What have you soâŠ.happy today?" He shrugs, "I have many reasons to be happy. I have you, my lovely wife, today all went well, we have a son arriving in a few months and did I mention I have a lovely, beautiful, small and incredibly amazing wife?" You smile and look away. "I mean it, love. I seriously thank you for being part of my life so please just accept all my love because trust me, pretty girl, no one else can get this."
After that much-needed meal, he offers a bath. And as he warms the water for you both, he watches mesmerised as you undress in front of him. Your beautiful body is all for his gaze to admire. For some reason, Vladimir couldn't help but feel a gush of emotions, all good ones of course. The way the room lit up, showcasing all your beautiful features and there was him, watching a goddess undress. It was like a schoolboy, the feeling he had, blushing and looking away from how excited you made him. To others, it's nothing to see your beloved undress anymore but to him, this was a privilege.
They always portray men like him as heartless men with no soul behind their evil loving gaze but if you look closely, there it is, the warm fire that still shines through. "Get in the tub, my love," his voice was always so soft with you. It was comedic how it changed when he spoke to those who aren't you. He was always so cold to others but when he turned to you, gave you one glance or one word, his voice was pure and soft. His hand holding yours as you get in. Hold it until you sit down in the tub. The second he let go, as he walked to the counter of the bathroom, his hand flexed. He was anxious in many ways and for good reason since you had changed the man he was before.
In his hands was the old book of poems he collected of his favourite poets or wrote himself. The book was old, but the words inside were worth more than anything in the world. As he sat down, he could feel the warmth of your back to his chest. You laid against him, finding comfort in his embrace and in some romantic way, this was professing love with unspoken words. His free hand playing with your hair as he holds the book of poems. "Let's see my love, what poem shall I read you today?"
You point towards one. "First Love by John Clare," the title wrote. "Very well, my love." he kisses your head and begins. "I neâer was struck before that hour With love so sudden and so sweet, Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower And stole my heart away complete. My face turned pale as deadly pale, My legs refused to walk away, And when she looked, what could I ail? My life and all seemed turned to clay.
And then my blood rushed to my face And took my eyesight quite away, The trees and bushes round the place Seemed midnight at noonday. I could not see a single thing, Words from my eyes did startâ They spoke as chords do from the string, And blood burnt round my heart.
Are flowers the winterâs choice? Is loveâs bed always snow? She seemed to hear my silent voice, Not love's appeals to know. I never saw so sweet a face As that I stood before. My heart has left its dwelling-place And can return no more."
His voice throughout the poem so steady, and clean and expresses the same emotion the poem itself meant to convey. He places the book on the small shelf by the tub, his arms wrapping you in a loving embrace. "Did you like it?" Vladimir's head resting on your shoulder as his hands caress your belly. "MhmâŠI loved this one." your voice was soft as you began to relax with him. "Good, my love," he whispers before kissing your shoulder, one of his hands so delicately lifting your hair as the other writes on your back.
"I- L-O-V-E- Y-O-U" his fingertips spell out. You try and figure out what the message was but before you begin to think, you feel his soft and warm lips kiss the back of your neck. To him, this was the most beautiful thing lovers could do that also meant intimacy. Sitting in a tub, looking out a window that brings light to the bathroom, reading poetry and then doing something like this, kissing your neck with nothing but love, rubbing the same belly that carries his child. And then you got it, "I love you too, Vlad," you lean back, your head turning and your lips meeting his.
It was as if no other worry could bother either of you. Being here, that is what counts and in the darkest corner of his heart, he feels all those old wounds and worries heal. This is real, this moment in time, that is what feels so unreal to those who can't have this privilege but to both of you, this is real, it's love to its simplicity.
Tags:
@goldenmclaren @liyanahelena @selarus @kielsegur @mseccentricks @johfaam0 @moonsua1 @rvivienner @frazie99 @viomast @vampsquerade @saoirse06 @alxexhearts @baldwinhearts @strangepuppynightmare
#cod x reader#cod#mw3 2023#mw3 x reader#cod mwiii#call of duty mw3#cod mw3#modern warfare iii#modern warfare 3#cod makarov#vladimir makarov fluff#vladimir makarov x reader#vladimir makarov cod#vladimir makarov x you#mw2023#vladimir makarov smut#makarov x reader#makarov cod#makarov call of duty#makarov x you#vladimir makarov#makarov x f!reader#makarov fluff
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hello! i hope you're doing well ^_^ i just wanna ask about your favorite headcanon of rus, cana and ame (if you're up for it, no pressure, i wanna see what kumajirou looks like in your style)
i like your art! don't mind me if you see me liking your posts hehe
Hello (^_^) thank you... Your art is very beautiful I'm honoured... Sorry if this is kinda late(?) my brain works best when it's the middle of the night. I wrote this in my notes at like 3am...
My headcanons are really messy and subject to change so keep that in mind đ Gonna put them under a read more cause they're pretty long and I rambled on and on.. Got carried away sorry!! Also it's kind of cringe at some points but that's okay. To be cringe is to be free.
---
Rus: My beloved... He's cute, yes, but also very creepy. (I love a creepy rus) I see him as this character that's always looming over everyone, always watching... He likes how docile and obedient Cana is, and with Ame... well... He likes the challenge.
He likes the arts... And I believe he's an incredible poet and dancer. I like to think that Rus spends his free time writing hauntingly beautiful poetry in a journal of his since there are a lot of beautifully written Russian literature... That journal could also probably work as his diary too because why not. He also does ballet and figure skating, and Ame probably calls him gay for it, this irks Rus but that's okay. He'll rip the tongue out of that American's loud mouth one day. He just has to be patient. (that last part is cringe but my rusame brain told me to write it)
For music I think he'd like classical (tchaikovsky) and metal. I also think he'd visit old abandoned buildings just to see the ruins. Maybe even appreciate the architecture? He finds beauty in the decay.
His relationship with Ame is a game of chess (Rus loves chess, so he loves whatever he has going on with Ame), each move calculated, each interaction charged with unspoken tension (they never reveal their love for eachother... the only time that would happen is probably in life-or-death situations but with their immortality that's practically impossible â actually you know what?? Scratch that. No confessions... Unless drunk or under the influence of something maybe.) With Cana, it's more like a delicate dance, appreciating his gentleness but always aware of the fragile nature of their bond â he's aware that cana and him are only really bound together through Ame.
---
Cana: Neglected boy (eng and fra both coddled Ame more) ... Envious of Ame but still loves him â he's frustrated. He knows so much about Ame but Ame knows nothing about him. Ame doesn't care enough to bother learning about him. It's unfair. I believe he actually has Kumajirou for comfort... But even his pet bear doesn't remember him (to be fair, he doesn't remember Kumajirou's name either.)
For music taste, I think he'd like shoegaze actually... it's calm yet messy-ish and it matches well with his vibe. (Totally not just projecting my music taste onto him)
He dislikes being in the shadow of his brother but he does appreciate his brother sticking up for him. Doing all the talking for him. He doesn't like new people usually. They never understand. (Never understand his freak.. yes Cana has a hidden freak to me.)
He genuinely gets along with rus. They're more similar than they initially thought after all. I mean they're both shy (to a point), both live in cold climates, both have weird relationships with ame... And both are connected through Ame... Rus and Cana both recognize that they are intrinsically tied together only through Ame.
---
Ame: Insufferable (put him in the eternal torture chamber!) Even so, Rus and Cana are still drawn to him like moths to a flame. Type of guy to test the limits of his immortal body... I wish Hima did more with their immortality because that is such an interesting subject. Probably has more DUIs than you can count. Has crashed a plane on purpose. No way you can be the United States of America and not end up crazy.
For the Cold War... Ame was genuinely disappointed when the USSR fell, he was like "well... what now...??" Because for several decades he had a villain to match his hero... But now that Rus fell off... what now? He misses the thrill and rush of it (he's a thrill-seeker... Type 3 fun typa guy). Also, he knew nothing would actually happen anyhow because of M.A.D (Mutually Assured Destruction) no one would actually drop bombs.. right? (they had a few close calls). Maybe the cold war was just one big edging session... (Lmfao sorry had to say it)
Okay adding to the above thing but the paragraph got too long for me. Another reason why Ame thrived in the cold war is that Rus had his singular attention on him. Just him. He loved that. He loved having all of someone's attention. He can't help it. He's just a girl! đ (Kinda yandere-ish vibes but I fw yandere ideas so... Actually all 3 of them could be yandere in the right mindset.)
To me, Ame is the kind of person who thrives on adrenaline, always seeking the next big rush â he's also a huge sucker for attention. That's why he does the crazy things he does. For attention. After all, what is he without attention?
With Cana, well this is a me thing but I like to think that Ame is actually quite clingy with his brother.. He's one of the only people Ame allows to touch him.. Ame's not a very touchy person. Ame does crave genuine connections and Cana is one of the few that can offer that. They're each other's one and only brother after all. That has to mean something.
His relationship with Cana? Complicated... They seem good from the outside but Ame barely knows anything about his brother. Cana could say a million things about Ame but Ame could only respond with maybe a few hundred or so things about Cana â heck, maybe even that would be stretching it. Although, Ame does care for his brother in his own way, truly.
Last little thing I'd like to add: Ame has a collection of vintage stuff. I don't know why. Vintage things just scream American to me. Like old comic books..
#fanart#hetalia#aph#aph fanart#hws#ask#hetalia axis powers#hetalia world stars#axis powers ăăżăȘăą#aph canada#canada#matthew williams#kumajirou#art#artwork#hcs#hetalia canada#illustration#aph russia#aph america
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Show Off - Utahime
Kinktober Masterlist
Warnings: 18+, mirror sex, reader's a bit of a bimbo, utahime is more dominant, lingerie
A/n: Day 12: Lingerie! I'm fighting for my fucking life guys trying to catch up to kinktober
Word count: 2.0k
Read on Ao3
Utahime lifted her gaze up at the miniature store sign above the changing room doors. Stockings!!! And in a cotton-candy neon pink stinging her eyes the longer she held her glare. She sighed.
This was the last place she wanted to be on her off day: Huddled up in the stuffy changing room area of a swanky clothing store, the humidity sticking clothes to her skin.Â
But you had insisted (and when had she ever been able to say no to you?), Shoko and Mei Mei voting on the trip as well. It had been unanimous. Utahime had felt particularly betrayed by Shoko. Traitor.
Utahime switched her glare to her phone, the blue-light glare aiding the imminent headache creeping to life. Another sigh.
Of course, there was another reason she didnât want to be here. Seeing you in tight lingerie was not going to be good for her.
Shoko knew that.
Girls a decade younger giggled as they passed by with their chosen garments packed in designer paper bags. Utahimeâs head thudded into the wall.
âHow much longer are you guys gonna be?â she whined, fanning herself.
âIt wonât be long!â You assured.
âJust a few minutes longer.â Mei Meiâs dulcet tones flitted through the changing room door.Â
Utahime snorted to herself. âWe all know youâre not going to buy anything.â
Mei peeked out the door, eyes perennially sparkling with ill-intent. âWho said anything about buying?â
Utahime rolled her eyes as You and Shoko cackled offscreen.
âI found something I like.â That was Shoko. âHaving a little trouble with the strap, though ââ
Utahime struggled to imagine Shoko being sexy for anybody. But, she supposed, a woman could be sexy for herself. She couldnât help but ask. âYouâre trying on lingerie? Whatâs the occasion?â
âWhy does there have to be an occasion, Uta? Maybe she just wants to look snatched.â Mei Mei echoed her unspoken sentiments.
âIn fact, now that weâre on the subject,â Shoko began, âI am seeing a little man on the side.â
You gasped, followed by a harsh zipper sound. âShoko! You never said!â You sighed wistfully. âEverybodyâs got a boo these days.â
Shoko poked her head out this time, smirked at Utahime.
Utahime glared as Shoko giggled and retreated into the changing room.
âDone!â You said.
Anxiety married anticipation in Utahime, whirled her stomach as changing room locks came undone.
Shoko was first, fully dressed again in sweater and jeans â and of course never without a cigarette. âItâs just a bra and Iâm buying it,â she said when Utahime gave her a crooked look. âThey should let me wear it out if I show them the tag.â
Mei Mei was next, twirling in her new ebony-black corset. âOh, my paypigs are gonna love this,â she said with a giggle.
Shoko laughed as Mei Mei felt the lacy fabric. Your door opened unceremoniously, jumpscaring the three of them.
Utahime stared wide-eyed and speechless as you presented yourself as though on the runway; it was a matching lacy bra and panties. The cups hugged your breasts in delicious black silk, and lace tickled up your sweet thighs from the stockings. You giggled as Shoko and Mei Mei cooed their approval.
Utahimeâs mouth ran dry.
âDo you like it?â You asked her, turning to flash your ass. âDoes it look like it fits?â
Utahime swallowed nothing. She composed herself when she felt Shoko smirking, adjusting her baseball cap to conceal a blush she knew was there.Â
âItâs â itâs nice,â she told you. âAnd very pretty on you.â
Your blush tore at Utahimeâs heart. âAwww, thanks, Uta!âÂ
âLetâs check out.â Mei Mei walked from the changing room, the clothes she had arrived with presumably in her bag. âThat is, if you ladies are happy with everything?â
âYouâre going like that?â Utahime deadpanned.Â
âWhy, of course!â Mei Mei said, giving another twirl. âMaybe Iâll pick another pig or two on the way home?âÂ
Mei Mei sashayed out of the changing rooms.Â
âOh, Iâm not,â You said, still blushing. You retreated into the changing room and closed the door. âGotta get this home in one piece, after all! I would have to rip it!â
Shoko sauntered toward Utahime and gave her a wink.
âTake your time,â she murmured before following Mei Mei.
Utahime gave her third sigh of the afternoon and reached down for her bag.Â
âAh!â
Utahime lifted her gaze to your door. âAre you all right?â
âYeah, itâs just â ah, this hook, itâs so stubborn.â Your elbow must have knocked against one of the walls; there was a thump, then another. âAh, I canât get it. Uta, dâyou think you could come in and help me?â
Utahimeâs handbag fell from her hands. âUh ⊠Yâ Yes, sorry, uh, just a second!â
Utahimeâs hand quivered over the door; it wasnât locked. She walked in on trembling legs.
Your back was turned to her, facing the full-body mirror, gaze lowered as you focused on the strap buckle. You groaned after another failed attempt to unhook it.
âYou know what, maybe I wonât buy it,â You quipped with a nervous laugh. You glanced in the mirror at Utahime, almost for approval. That was funny, right?
Utahime laughed as she approached, wiping sweaty hands on her jeans. âItâd be a shame; it looks really pretty on you.â
You met Utahimeâs gaze in the mirror. She cleared her throat. Slowly, you turned to her. A few seconds of silence as you smiled up at her.
âWhatâs the point of sexy lingerie if you canât get out of it?â You said â purred.
Utahime blinked. Had she â had she heard you correctly?
You stepped toward her. âHelp me get out of this, Uta?â You batted imploring eyelashes. âPlease?â
Utahimeâs lips parted as you came forward to plant yours against her jaw. Utahime flinched, froze, her heart drumming in her ears as you kissed down the outline of her jaw to her neck.Â
â(Y/n) â!â
She had let you back her into the wall opposite the mirror. Utahime tried to grasp you to stop you â it was a bad idea; everywhere she touched was naked skin or skin housed in lace. You were soft to the touch everywhere.
âMmm ⊠Yes?â
âWhat are you doing?â Panic sprang in Utahimeâs voice.Â
âMmm âŠâ You raised your head to meet her eye. âKissing you, silly. What do you think?â
âNo,â Utahime moaned. She fixed her hands to your hips as you continued smooching her neck. âStop. Youâre â youâre drunk.â
You faced her again, a soft glare there. âIâm not drunk.â Your hand snaked down her thigh, coming to caress her clothed sex. âIâve never been more sober, or conscious, of what Iâm doing.â
Utahime shivered. She bit her lip as you massaged her cunt through her jeans. Your breasts crushed against hers as you kissed her full on the mouth. Utahime parted her lips in shock, inadvertently inviting your tongue to rub against hers. You bucked against her as you explored her mouth. The friction âÂ
Utahime felt a damn break; she flipped, flattened you against the wall. She broke the kiss, looked down at you.
âFine then,â she said. âIf this is what you want âŠ!â
Her hand slipped past your silk panties, not yet paid for, and played with your moist slit.
âAâahah âŠ!â You threw your head back as Utahime slipped fingers into the slit of your cunt. âN â No fair, I think you â hah â should get out of your clothes, too âŠâ
Utahime swept two fingers against your clit, relished your startled moan. She nestled toward your ear. âYouâre in no place to make demands.â She yanked your panties down and continued her work on you, fiddling with your clit as you gasped. âDragging me to this place to watch you prance around like a little slut. You know this set is too small for you, and yet you still âŠâ
She scissored her fingers and squeezed them between your clit, jerking it off as she kissed at the shell of your ear.
âAah! Haâ aha!âÂ
âPipe down,â Utahime ordered, fondling one of your tits. âYou want the whole store to hear you?â
Her hand, so occupied with your tit, wandered behind you and, with only one hand unhooked your bra. It fell away to your waist before Utahime threw it to the floor.Â
You stared, half-naked and breathless, face brushed with red. âHow ⊠can I make it up to you?â
Utahime licked her lips â until she realized she could lick you and brought her fingers from your cunt to suck on. She paused in thought before glancing to the mirror.Â
âTake those off.â She motioned toward the panties. âThen sit by the mirror.â
You did as instructed, leaving the stockings on. You strolled to the mirror and sat.Â
âSpread your legs,â Utahime said.Â
You did so. Utahime knelt by your, steadied on her knees. She brought one hand to cup and play with your neglected breast while the other snaked down the plane of your stomach to your cunt.Â
âLook at yourself.â She spread your lips, the slick pooled like a honeypot for you to witness. âSo you wanted this? To let me see your slutty clothes?â
You whined as Utahime flicked at your lobe, circled your clit with her fingers.
âYâYes!â
âYouâre worse than Mei Mei.â Utahime slapped your cunt and you flinched from the sting. âFace the mirror. When I take you home tonight, youâre going to undress me and get me off.â
Utahime sunk her fingers into your slick entrance. She pinched and toyed with your nipple as you squirmed in her care. As ordered, your eyes remained fixed to the mirror.Â
âYouâre going to eat me out and suck on my clit.â Utahime paused as you cried out; sheâd found the rough skin of your g-spot while her thumb flicked at your clit. âThatâs how youâre going to make it up to me, understand?â
You arched in her hold as she teased you with a potential orgasm. You nodded frantically. âYes, yes! Oh, god, I want that so much!â
Utahime kissed and sucked at your neck, adding a third finger at last to your torment. You sucked her fingers in with fervor. She thumbed harder at your clit, her other hand forcing one of your tits up to suck at its nipple.
You trembled as her tongue swirled around your bud, the pace of her fingers impossible to keep up with.
âIâm gonna â aha â!â
Utahime withdrew her fingers.
You gasped. âNo! No!â
She caressed your face, slick with your wetness, and forced you to look at her from over your shoulder.Â
âIâve loved you for so long,â she said. âI want you to look at me when you cum, all right?â
You nodded, eyes dreamy. You trembled with anticipation as she snaked her hand back down to your needy cunt and submerged her fingers in again.
You captured Utahimeâs lips, kissing and licking her tongue as her fingers worked your insides and clit.Â
A string of saliva bridged your lips and hers as you parted, eyes widening with the coming climax.
âCum for me,â Utahime urged. âMhm, câmon, you can do it, cum, cum ââ
Utahime cupped your mouth in time to stifle your scream. You clenched around her fingers, but she kept massaging that perfect spot inside you. You fell backward, into bliss and into her as she rode you through your orgasm.Â
Utahime watched you fall apart in the mirror. She couldnât have dreamed of a prettier sight. âThatâs a good girl, finally doing what youâre told.â
You came down from your high. You stared up at her dreamily. Utahime withdrew her fingers again, licking away your orgasm from her pruney fingers.Â
âDid you know I had feelings for you?â Utahime asked as you came down.
Your eyes glittered. âNo â I hoped you did! Oh no!â You looked to your drenched stockings, then to the bra and panties strewn over. âI didnât pay for those!â
âDonât worry.â Utahime said. âIâll buy them for you. I want to see you in them again.â
#utahime x reader#jjk smut#utahime smut#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#kinktober#kinktober 2023#utahime iori x reader
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