#and then he later developed a soft spot and some emotions inside him thanks to the constant feeling of owakcx's weight being on his back

[soundleer]

Opinions on MysteryAcid (Jevin x OWAKCX)?

ooh it has been slowly growing into me as of recently. i was indifferent about the ship at first but the more i look into their dynamic, the more i start to see the appeal and enjoy it hyee

also mysteryacid is such a fire ship name when i first heard it and i love that for it hehe

[moonctzeny]

love to hate me

request:  celebrity! jaehyun + enemies to lovers + “don’t you want to know how i feel?”

pairing: friends to enemies to lovers! jaehyun x female reader

genre: smut, angst, fluff... this fic has it all folks

word count:  7.514k

warnings: toxic behaviour, public sex, light restraining, jaehyun pulls a ‘white boy punching the wall’ at some point 

summary: “You and Jaehyun meet as SM trainees, developing a friendship until he debuts and you deicde to leave the company and pursue a solo career. When you reunite again in a music show and he acts like he barely knows you, you stubbornly begin a series of hate-brimmed sex rendez-vous. Your touch-and-go relationship continues on, until a song collaboration will force you both to deal with all your repressed feelings for each other”

a/n: this is the longest it has ever taken me to finish a fic.. I have a love-hate relationship with this (no pun intended XD). I hope whoever requested this likes it!

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Of-fucking-course you had to bump into him out of all people at the vending machine. All you wanted was a drink to refresh you before you got up on stage, and now you have to deal with Mr. Too Good For This World and his relentless teasing. His eyes, lit up by an amusement that was also evident in his smirk, stayed glued on your body, raking up and down at it for a second too long. Not that you didn’t like it.

“Stare much?”, you bark at him in hopes of snapping him out of his trance, and push through him to punch in the code of your favorite drink. But alas, he always had a comeback ready on the edge of his lips.

“You look ridiculous”, he states and you have to admit that your outfit, though fitting for the Halloween special of today’s music show, was way different than anything else he had ever seen you in. Reincarnated as Dorothy Gale for the night, your stylists had chosen a short, light blue checkered dress, with red stilettos that gave a sexy twist to the character’s ruby slippers. Hair neatly braided in two pigtails, decorated by ribbons and topped off by glittery pink makeup. The image of innocence. Jaehyun had to laugh.

“Says the man dressed up as Woody”

It was unfair, you admitted, how good he looked in that stupid outfit. His hair was gelled back, a few strands framing his handsome face strategically. The yellow shirt fitted him like a glove, its bright colour lighting him up as well. And those jeans, tight in all the right places, just melted over the muscles of his thighs. The ones that you’ve come undone on one too many times.

“So”, he lilts, giving you a once over before lowering both the volume and pitch of his voice, “want a ride?”

You scoff, sparing him an incredulous look, “on what horse, cowboy?”

He doesn’t reply, only points with his eyes to his crotch that is undeniably sporting a visible tent, and you gasp when you see the outline of his dick twitching under your stare.

“Jesus Christ, Jaehyun”, you mutter with a disgusted look on your face before picking up the almost forgotten beverage that the vending machine had barfed out for you. The boy mentioned, however, was unfazed.

“They don’t call me Woody for nothing”

Almost choking at the drink that was supposed to calm you down, you catch his eyes rolling at you through your third cough. Well, that ruins one of your favourite childhood movies. “Don’t pretend to be a prude. Now are we going to fuck before you get on stage of not?”

You can clearly remember the first time you met Jung Jaehyun alone. You always spotted him somewhere in the SM buildings, joking around with his future bandmates, barely ever without company. As a fellow vocal trainee, he introduced himself to you as Yoonoh, filling up the awkward silence while your vocal teacher prepared the music sheets for the both of you to rehearse.

You were thankful the two of you always got paired up together. Jaehyun was charming, easy to be around, funny. He was a model SM trainee with the otherworldly looks he possessed, almost impossible for anyone’s eyes not to follow him when he entered a room. Radiant porcelain skin, soft brown locks, and a dimpled smile that made your heart melt in seconds.

You can also clearly remember the first time you had the privilege of hearing him sing. Jaehyun had a beautiful baritone voice, one that contradicted his flower boy image but matched his manly personality perfectly. The four walls of the small practice room resonated with his sound, that was stable and smooth like honey. The lessons were challenging but Jaehyun made them bearable through spending time with him. Maybe it was your shared struggles, or how you were always tired and vulnerable when you saw him. Maybe it was those damned dimples, but your heart always beat faster when you were around him.

“Sometimes I get discouraged”, he confides in you in that same room, hours later, early into the morning now. The vocal lesson stretched on longer than expected, leaving you two sitting on the floor, sharing a cup of lemon-honey tea to soothe your vocal chords. You let your head rest to the leather couch behind you as you stare into his handsome features one by one. What time was it? Shouldn’t you be back at your dorms by now? It didn’t matter, this was one of those moments when time seems to stop and life seems unreal. When the only thing that you care about is the person standing next to you, and whatever it is they have to tell you.

 “I fear that I will never get to debut. There’s handsome guys all over the company. I just don’t know if my skills are enough.”  

You thought he was crazy for thinking that way, wanted to scream at him that he’s just perfect and more than enough for the company, or for anything in this world for that matter. But Jaehyun was reserved, the type to always mask his true feelings behind a smile and you were more than glad that he finally opened up to you, that he saw you as someone trustworthy. You didn’t want to dismiss his feelings, so you just pet his hair while you listened to his concerns.

 As you mindlessly gaze at the rainy weather outside, a couple of droplets following their own path down the froggy window remind you that time does run by. Even if every day seemed the same, following the same routine, going to the same classes over and over again.

Jaehyun had this sad look that contorted his pretty face and you hated it, reaching up to massage away the wrinkles between his eyebrows. You don’t know which godly creature made the hourglass of time freeze this moment, nor did you know why Jaehyun leaned forward to capture your lips into a kiss. Maybe it was his way of saying thank you for keeping your ears and heart open for him, for listening to him when he needed it most.

It felt so lovely while it lasted, two young people leaning on each other during an uncertainty that anchored them far away from their emotional shoreline. But life as a trainee isn’t a fairytale and falling in love can have serious ramifications. So you promise to each other that this will be a one time thing, and then you never speak of this night ever again.

Unsurprisingly enough, Jaehyun got to successfully debut, yet you didn’t have the same luck. The company had plans of focusing on their new boy group, thus postponing your debut for an uncertain amount of time. It was hard for you to decide to switch labels, to throw away the years of hope and dedication you had pinned on this company but the faith you placed on yourself was stronger.

It’s years later when you finally get to promote as a solo artist in a different company, and you are happy to say that the decision you made all those years ago was the right one. The exposure you got wasn’t the same as being in a Big 3 company, however leaving SM entertainment has its pros. Flexible schedule, less scrutiny, great creative freedom over your work. 

This wasn’t the first time you have come across your old trainee buddy. Jaehyun had multiple comebacks in a year, so it was only natural that his group’s and your promotions would sometimes overlap. You were only a rookie, and NCT turned out to become pretty popular, so of course the wins were always tied to their names.

The first time you walked past him in the hallways, dark makeup and professional styling making you both almost unrecognizable, you expected a wave, small talk, maybe some reminiscing of the old times. Instead, you got a cold stare or at best, an arrogant smirk coupled with a “Do better next time”. It was shocking to you how much Yoonoh, the boy with the shy smile and awkward social skills, would turn into such a stranger.

How you always ended up sneaking out with him to have a quickie in one of the ready rooms, was beyond you. He rushed you inside before checking both sides of the hallway, cautious to hide from any curious eyes. The coast was clear and Jaehyun doesn’t like to waste time, so he pins you against the door he just closed behind him, face dipped in your neck. You can feel his fingers dancing on the skin of your thighs, eager to explore what is hidden under your frilly skirt, and their delicacy in contrast to his feverish kisses sends a shiver down your spine.

One pretty whine from your lips, then two, three and you can feel Jaehyun smile deviously against your neck. The softness is too enticing for him to resist, so he nips at it skillfully, trying to get a reaction out of you. He recognizes that you have plenty of talent as a singer, yet the symphonies you sing out for him in those little sessions seem to be his favorite.

“Jaehyun, cut it out. I’m going on stage in like, 20 minutes”

“Turn me on then”

Wasn’t he the one that basically flashed you in the middle of the cafeteria for just existing? Isn’t it his hard on that digs against your lower stomach? The demand made you mad, and you wanted nothing more than to entice him with a nice blowjob, only to take a big, strong bite off that cock of his. But see, you had a full face of makeup on and your career is way more important than a fuckboy, so you’ll have to get creative.

Flipping him around so that he’s the one trapped between you and the door, you start to suck on his collarbones , then nibble at the tender flesh. He seems distracted enough by it so that you open the button of his jeans and fully remove his belt from their loops with no objections. Palming him over his boxers to keep him entranced, you manage to bring his wrists together, wrapping the leather around them, then lastly fastening them in place.

His eyes widen in shock when he realizes that he’s too late, wiggling his hands in a futile attempt to free himself. Your laugh is sadistic, making the hairs on his arms stand on edge and you gloat in the effect you have on him. 

Giving your palm a good lick, you form a ring with your fingers, wrapping them around the base of his member. He hisses and drops his head back, thudding loudly against the wall. His cock enlarges and reddens as you move your hand up and down, changing the pressure according to his reactions. Jaehyun isn’t one to express himself freely but there is not much he can do to stop the low moans leaving his lips. Not when you rub circles over his tip with the soft skin of your palm.

He looks so fucking good, all squirmy and desperate and trying to hold himself from saying ‘please’. You almost want to keep going, squeeze him more until he whines and begs to cum, and admire the white beads dripping from his slit and covering your hand. Almost.

You halt your movements with a last strong stroke, crossing your arms over your chest as you stare back at him. Jaehyun tentatively opens one eye to see why you have stopped, only to come across that bratty smile that he loves as much as he hates.

“You should have dressed up as a siren. Seducing people before they realize you are a man eating bitch”

“If you want someone to jerk you off you can go ask one of your little fangirls. I want to get fucked.”

“Let me go then. And you’ll wish you never did”

You scoff at his cockiness, nonchalantly freeing him from his constraints, and the way he immediately has a hold of your jaw reminds you of a predator eyeing its prey. His eyes have a crazy look in them, moving frantically over every part of your body like he can’t decide what to grab onto first. He decides on your hips, bending you over a table full of snacks and makeup tools and flyers of today’s schedule.

“You think it’s funny to tease me like that?”, he asks you with a peremptory voice that signifies you’d better shut up.

You hear shuffling behind you and assume it’s him slipping on a condom, so you make yourself more comfortable on the wooden surface. A hard slap on your ass jolts you alert.

“I asked you a fucking question”, Jaehyun presses brusquely and flips your skirt fully over your ass, pulling your panties down until they’re bunched up right over your knees.

“It’s fun”, you moan out, breathless both from the pleasure and the stinging feeling on your right cheek, “What are you gonna do about it?”

Was the room occupied by one of the artists that have already been on stage? Or will they barge in at any moment to find you bent over and pussy dripping for Jaehyun to finally dive inside you? He chuckled at the sight of you, eyes feasting off your naked body, your ass up just the way he likes it. Not so innocent anymore, huh?

He doesn’t reply to you, aligning himself against your slit and bottoming out in one go instead. Involuntarily, you let out a small screech, the sudden stretch catching you off guard.

“You better stay quiet, siren. Or maybe you would like it if people found us like this? Saw how good you take my cock whenever I ask”

You wanted to bite back at him, but the only sound you could make was a guttural moan. It was embarrassingly loud, and you fall forward to bite your fist and force yourself to shut up. It was effective, yet Jaehyun had other plans for you, pulling your pigtails towards him in a strong grip that has you against his chest in seconds.

“Nuh, uh, uh, siren”, he hums in your ear, his panting making his voice sound huskier and smokier than ever, “How about trying to stay quiet by using your willpower alone? That way it’s more- how did you call it? Fun.” 

He slows down his pace momentarily, as if he’s giving you time to answer him. But the moment you open your mouth to talk back at him, he thrusts particularly hard inside you, forcing a whimper out of your lips.

“Fuck you, Jaehyun”

“As you wish”

Jaehyun was conceited and cocky and a dick, but he was also a good fuck. He kept at it with what seemed like all the energy in the world, fucking you against that table until you came all over him, and your legs gave out. It ended how it always did, with him moaning how fucking sexy you look and how much he hates you, and you swallowing your pride as you swallow his cum. You’d tell each other to fuck off and never bother the other again, until you meet up at the next comeback, to do this shit all over again.

And that’s how things would stay if it wasn’t for that goddamn phone call from your manager.

“...so we thought what better way to promote your new song by recording a duet with NCT’s Jaehyun?”

No, no, no this can’t be happening. No way. Anyone but him.

“Are you sure this is the only way we can promote me? Can’t I just go to variety programs like every other idol out there?”

“y/n, duets by different group members are one of the most efficient methods of promoting there is! And with NCT’s latest song topping the charts this will be a great opportunity for you. Taemin and Sunmi did it. Suzy and Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Punch-“

“Alright, okay, I get it”

“Besides, since you used to be an SM trainee they specifically asked for you. The directors made some pretty big compliments on your work”

Isn’t it a little too late now? Not like they didn’t have the chance to debut you, right? That being said, there isn’t much to oppose to decline SM’s offer; your manager is right and you know it. Saying no to Lee Sooman and giving up a popularity push like that is basically career suicide. Nor could you let your manager know about your and Jaehyun’s little adventures, minutes before you have to go on stage.

“Just send me the schedule. I don’t have to record with him, right?”

“Oh no, they’ll record his part first and then they’ll send it to us. But there will be a music video of course”

Oh for fuck’s sake.

There was this little monster of worriedness that was screaming inside your head, refusing to shut up. This collaboration isn’t going to be easy, but you didn’t want to let Jaehyun’s pettiness get in the way of your career. Fumbling with your phone in your hands, you kept removing and reinserting its case compulsively, over and over again, until you mustered the courage to take matters into your own hands.You knew his number was buried somewhere in your contacts.

you [16:35]: hey it’s me, y/n

Jung Yoonoh [16:50]: y/n who??

you [16:55]: y/n y/l/n? the girl whose guts you were inside in last week? we have a song coming up 😒

Jung Yoonoh [16:57]: oh y/n right

Jung Yoonoh [16:58]: thought you’d have deleted my number

Well you sure have deleted mine, you murmur with your blood boiling, regretting reaching out to him in the first place. 

you [16:59]: i always hoard peoples contacts

you [17:00]: old habits die hard i guess

Jung Yoonoh [17:00]: like the habit of me being inside your guts?

You gasp out after reading his last message, hands awkwardly juggling your phone until you’ve forced yourself to calm down. After waiting for a while, until your face has reached its previous temperature, you feel focused again, and type out your original intentions for this conversation.

you [17:05]: this isn’t what i texted you about.

you [17:07]: we have this project coming up and while I know we aren’t exactly on the best terms, this comeback is very important for me

you [17:08]: and i don’t want to fuck it up

Jung Yoonoh [17:10]: kitty cat, relax. maybe this is a brand new word for you but i know what professionalism is

you [17:10]: don’t you ever and i mean ever call me that again

you [17:11]: glad to see we are on the same page

You didn’t expect a message back, nor did you get one. All you could do from now on, was pray that the promotions would go smoothly and Jaehyun wouldn’t do anything stupid that would jeopardize your collaboration.

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And the day you dreaded finally came. The first day of filming for the music video. 

You had already finished recording the song, a bittersweet balad about two lovers who lost their way, only for their paths to cross again. When you listened to the demo for the first time, it only took three notes from Jaehyun’s pre-recorded verse to spread goosebumps on your skin. His voice was deeper and even more developed than you remember. Long forgotten memories, shoved deep inside your brain so as not to leave a bitter aftertaste in your mouth, came flooding up again. But things have changed since then.

The sky was crying rain and lightning, fitting to the storm inside your head. Normally you'd be excited to film a music video, bubbling with energy and unable to contain a smile. Today, all you could do was let your teeth abuse the cuticles of your left thumb, until little drops of blood ruined the fresh manicure you got for the shoot. 

Following your manager inside the studio, you take a quick glance at all the props the creative directors have prepared. They were very intricate, filled with all different types of flowers everywhere. Some of the fake rooms looked like classrooms, two others were decorated like teenage bedrooms. It was a lot more than you have anticipated.

“The song will be part of a drama OST, that’s why the budget is higher than usual”, your manager tells you as if he was reading your mind. 

He leads you to the changing room, where you try on different outfits your stylist has chosen for you, while simultaneously being briefed on the concept of the music video. It’s kinda cheesy and cute, with you and Jaehyun posing as high-school students falling in love. Certain scenes of the drama, whose plot matches the music video’s, will intercept in between.

You’re seated on the makeup chair, sunk in the uneasiness caused by your co-star. Jaehyun had arrived a few minutes after you, his bare face more handsome than you’ve ever looked in your most glamorous state and you can’t help but stare at him. He is all polite smiles and bows to the staff, and even gives you a formal greeting. 

You’re not sure why you just can’t bring yourself to stop your legs from shaking as the makeup artist patiently tries to apply a rosy blush on your cheekbones. It’s like you’re scared that everyone will see right through the both of you, somehow enter your brain and find out that you’re replaying your last encounter with Jaehyun in the music show’s waiting room in your head. As you try to read through his expression, to see if he’s nearly as nervous as you are, you defeatedly can’t decode what’s going on inside his head. Not like you ever could.

You glance at both you and Jaehyun through the mirror, admiring the youthful makeup. Blushy cheeks and innocent eyes of two teenagers in love, masking the raw lust between two nemesi. It couldn’t stray any further from the truth.

A staff member leads both you and Jaehyun (who is refusing to spare even one look your way) back to the main set. The director is passionately explaining what he wants to see from you in your first scene, but you can barely focus with Jaehyun’s eyes burning holes through your school girl outfit. You block him out and walk inside the ‘classroom’, spotting the cameras and sitting on your designated seat, while you wait for your signal to start.

Of course, you had acted before. Yes, you had expected for the director to ask you for some more intimate moments with your co-star. But when Jaehyun passed you a “love note” from the desk in front of you, looking all blushy and shy and with his dimples showing, you felt that the role of crushing schoolgirl became a little too easy for you to act out. 

And maybe, just maybe he was feeling the same way too. He looked pretty flustered when he saw you dancing across class, shifting restlessly in his seat when you bent forward to tie your shoelaces. Whether you did it on purpose or not, was a question your ego didn’t allow you to answer truthfully.

Most of the individual shots would be handled at a different shoot, so all you had to do was get over this one day with him. That’s what you repeated yourself over and over again. And you did pretty well, smiling charmingly at the camera, with the director praising you for your “innocent look”. You didn’t miss the scoff slipping from Jaehyun’s lips but you were good at ignoring it, focusing on getting through the different scenes in one-shot. 

You were currently leaning your body against the wall, playing with your hair while Jaehyun glances down at you, like a boy that is ready to confess to his first love. 

“y/n, I need you to give me something more shy, more bashful”, the director yells eagerly, but you can barely hear him, too focused on regulating your breathing. The look your co-star is giving you right now might seem loving and pure to the staff, but you know all too well the motives hidden behind his facade. It’s the calm before the storm, the silence he purposefully keeps to make you squirm, right before he whispers the most sinful propositions in your ears. 

Reading him like an open book, you stand still as he leans closer, just enough so that no one besides you get to hear his words.

“Come on y/n, can’t you act bashful? Or is it impossible for you to get embarrassed after getting fucked against the window of a TV station’s building?”

Clearing your throat, you’re suddenly hyper aware of every single sound and movement in the room. Suffocating, even in the light clothes you were wearing, and desperately trying to mute out his words that bring you back to the day he was repenting.

“When you were pressed up against that glass, moaning my name, all exposed for anyone that simply looked up to see, you weren’t too shy, were you?”

You raise your palm to wipe a bead of sweat that has collected on your temple, and breathe deeply through your nose, as if a good pump of oxygen would cool off the sudden heat between your legs. 

“Shut up Jaehyun”, you simply hiss through your front teeth, but he isn’t done yet.

“You know I can’t hold myself when I see you in skirts. So pretty. And you love to tease me in them too, I’ve noticed. Flashing me again and again until you get to suckle on my dick”

You were sure his voice was barely louder than a whisper, but the thought of anyone accidentally prying into your conversation had your whole body raising in temperature. The heat didn’t take long to reach your cheeks and you couldn’t remember the last time your legs felt like jelly, as they do now.

“Perfect y/n, that’s exactly what I’m looking for!”

You blinked back at Jaehyun a couple times, your mind trying to process that the director is cheering you on instead of scolding you to focus. The trembling hands, the fast-paced heartbeat, your big doe eyes. Though involuntarily, you had nailed the scene.

“You’re welcome”, Jaehyun mouths at you just as the staff announces a break. He scurries off to his dressing room without a word, as if he hadn’t just spewed his dirtiest of thoughts on set. It was almost as if he was daring you to follow him, but it’s not like he had left you a choice. You were fuming.

“Jaehyun”, you called out to him strictly but he didn’t acknowledge you, only walked further inside the small room with his name written neatly on the door. He was removing some of the heavier jewellery, rubbing the red lines they had left on his neck and wrist, momentarily catching your eyes on the mirror's reflection. They were misty, unreadable, and with how unpredictable you knew he could be, you decided to close the door behind you.

“Closing the door?”, he muses and in just a few long strides he has managed to trap you between his body and the wooden surface. It is reminiscent of your last meeting at the music show, and the memory of you tying him up doesn’t help with the organizing of your thoughts. “What are you planning on doing to me in here?”

You point one finger against his chest, not enough to create any real distance between you, but it comforts you nonetheless.

“What the fuck was that out there? What happened to professionalism?”

“Relax, kitty cat. I was just helping you act better”. His eyes stayed glued on your hips, once again making you all wound up and jumpy under his stare, “And it worked. You should be thanking me”

“I. Told. You.”, you started, tapping your finger on his sternum to emphasize each word, “Never call me that again. Today’s already hard as it is, why do you have to make it harder?”

He takes one more step towards you, his chest now touching yours and your hand that separated you lands involuntarily on his right peck. As if his presence wasn’t overwhelming enough, you feel a hardness pressing against your thigh, and for a moment you worry he can feel how wet you really are under your skirt. His voice is a low, a deep rumble.

“I don’t know. Why do you have to make everything so hard?”

“You are unbelievable”, you scowl at him and free yourself from his trap. You turn to the big mirror to avoid looking at him anymore, and you come to the embarrassing realization of how fucked out you look right now. You had to get out of there as soon as possible, before you do anything stupid and lose any trace of self control left in you. But not before you gave Jaehyun an earful.

“What I meant was that I am out there, being paid to be all lovey-dovey with you. This is not something easy for me you know. It’s basically prostitution.”

You catch Jaehyun’s eyes in his reflection, and for a fleeting moment they turn a colour that you hadn’t seen them in for a long time. Hurt? Disappointment? Whatever it was, it was gone in a second, replaced by that smile that made him both irresistibly smackable and fuckable at the same time.

“Did it cross your tiny brain that maybe someone could hear you? Staff leaks information all the time! If they found out we were fucking…”

“Were? Past tense?”

“Are. Will be. Whatever.” You sigh, defeated, hiding your eyes with your palms as you face him once again. “Like I said, this is important to me. So no more dirty talk on set. Okay?”

Jaehyun avoided your glance, from embarrassment or uninterest maybe. “Okay”

You continue to sit there silently, but your head is so occupied with a million thoughts that you don’t notice. How you will get through the rest of the shooting, whether your manager is looking for you or not, the coldness of the glass Jaehyun had pressed you against that day. The only thing that snapped you out of it, was him suddenly taking off his shirt.

“What are you doing?”, you ask panicking, but you can’t dismiss the pool of excitement in your belly.

“We have a wardrobe change after the break, remember? And since you refuse to leave my changing room..”

You clear your throat, trying your hardest to rip your eyes away from his abdomen, that you’ve so keenly marked with love bites before. His naked skin must have monopolized your attention way more than you realized, as you can’t remember when he slithered his way closer to you, towering over your height.

“Stare much?”, he almost growls, arousal dripping from his voice.

Every fiber of your being wanted to lurch forward, glide your fingers through his hair and start nibbling at those pretty lips of his. The sexual tension, amplified by the argument you just had, was filling the room like a thick liquid would fill a cup. One more drop, one more second of his staring and it would overflow. It felt so real, that you could feel that drop landing on your forehead. Then another one on your cheek, and that’s when you realized that what you felt was real.

“What the-?”, Jaehyun mumbles as he stares up at the ceiling, a big wet spot staining it and allowing the water drops to slowly wet his styled locks. As you start to put two and two together, someone knocks loudly on the door, making you both jump one feet away from the other.

“Get undressed”, a high-pitched male voice that you recognize as Jaehyun’s manager calls through the door, “the rain is ruining the set. It’s a wrap for today”

———————————————————————

A soft touch on your lower back, an even softer breath making your ears tingle. A tentative kiss on your neck that’s full of purpose and makes you shiver.

And then another touch, this time more south on your body. Fingertips grazing over your sensitive clit. Easily moving through your wetness and finally dipping inside of you. That baritone voice.

“This pussy is mine, isn’t it, kitty cat?”

You look up to meet the face of the familiar voice, only to meet Jaehyun’s baby brown eyes. The pleasure was enough to make you ignore the despised nickname, flowing intensely through your body. You let out a desperate moan, gripping his arms to keep your balance. His fingers are now dragging through your walls and you clench around them instinctively, confused but enamored by his touch. You are falling apart.

“Jaehyun? What are you doing?”

“I want to make love to you”

“Love? But you hate me”

He plants another kiss on the slope of your neck, his hands picking up in pace and making you feel like you’re floating on air.

“Love. Hate. Is there really any difference when I’m here, ready to please you? Willing to make you feel things you have never felt before?”

“You already do”, you admit, only seconds away from your orgasm. The bliss is so close you can almost taste it, but for now you choose to taste his lips. They are so soft and warm that you realize you haven’t kissed Jaehyun since that night at the practice room. How you miss him. Not the group visual, not the idol, not even Jaehyun. Yoonoh.

“Yoonoh”, you moan out against his lips as the pleasure overtakes you, a low buzz humming in your ears, “mmm yes, Yoonoh”

“Who the fuck is Yoonoh?”

You finally wake up, your manager shaking you awake being the first thing you see. The sun’s morning rays are peeking through your blinds, warming your skin in lines. Your phone’s ignored alarm clock is still buzzing on top of your nightstand.

“No one. I’m awake, thanks”

Fuck. That makes it what? The fourth night in a row you dreamt about him?

“Get, up. Quickly. We’re late”

You groaned at the banging of your head that was caused by you getting up so fast. It was early into the morning, as you had to get ready for the mv’s second shooting day. The heavy rainfall wouldn’t allow for the filming to continue for another week, yet aided your growing anxiety of having to encounter Yoon- Jaehyun again. 

You felt a little stupid, like a kid that goes to middle school for the first time, anxious but full of butterflies in your stomach in the thought of seeing him again. You weren’t sure who the anger, that came with the inability to control the fresh feelings bubbling from your dream, should be directed at. Your manager for booking you this job? Jaehyun for making it his goal to have you dripping wet on set? You, for letting it all affect you so much?

You decide on the former, giving your poor manager the cold shower for forcing you to deal with the problems you’ve caused yourself. Checking your phone, you realise that you are, indeed, late, and wonder how quick you’re going to have to make your morning shower.

“Is Jaehyun and his team there already?”, you ask your manager as nonchalantly as you could, feigning mildly interested in his answer.

“Oh, they didn’t tell you? The other team asked for the shootings to continue separately”. You felt your stomach drop all the way down to your condo’s basement. And the icing on the cake: “Jung Jaehyun’s request”

Maybe your manager wasn’t as clueless to your electricity, or maybe it was your sudden impulse to pluck every loose thread of the pyjama top you were wearing that made him sense the discomfort following what he’d just said. He plops next to you on your bed, boards creaking in the silent room and you feel his rough hands patting you on the back.

“I’m sure he had an overlap in schedules and needed a break, nothing to do with you”

But you knew better, and you knew your palms wouldn’t stop itching unless you picked up your fucking phone and sent him a message. 

you [06:30]: i heard you can’t make it to set today. everything ok?

You wish you never did. The radio silence from his number was way worse than any insult, any form of teasing he could give you on set. You even tried calling him, desperate for an answer, a closure even. Maybe he was busy. Maybe the shooting took longer than expected. Maybe he wasn’t avoiding you; one of his managers uploaded his latest story on his instagram, not him. Maybe at the end of the week he would get back to you.

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

Going to his dorm unannounced was not a good idea. Waiting for someone to open the door for you, you hope his members will recognise you from your trainee days, or those rare nights Jaehyun sneaked you in when you were both lonely and in need of a… well, whatever you two were.

You’re starting to worry that whoever saw you from the peephole thought you were a sasaeng and called security, when Mark opens the door. His eyes are wide open behind his glasses, clearly not expecting you and immediately yelling for his ‘Jaehyun hyung’.

Soon, the called male arrives at the apartment’s entrance, annoyed for being interrupted from whatever it was he was doing. “What is it, me and Jungwoo are watching the season fina-“

As if Mark suddenly turned invisible, Jaehyun walks right past him, grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you to his room without another word.

Jungwoo, engrossed with the aforementioned show’s season finale on his computer screen, tries to cover up his naked torso in panic when he notices you. 

“Get out.”, Jaehyun orders him, and the younger man knows that his tone is not one to be argued with. It triggers the cold sweat that makes your clothes stick closer to your skin and forces your heartbeat to quicken, pumping blood all over your body. The door closes, leaving you both alone with only the sound of Jungwoo’s laptop still playing in the background. A lighthearted scene that is too oxymoronic against the tension that is just palpable at this point. What the hell were you thinking coming here?

“What the hell were you thinking coming here?”, Jaehyun speaks your thoughts out loud, and you wince at how empty your head is with excuses.

“Are you ignoring me?”

“What?”, he asks dumbly, hoping you would avoid asking again.

“Was it that hard to text me back? Am I such a waste of your time?”

Jaehyun seems angry at your confrontation, his bad mood escalating with every word that is leaving your mouth. He still avoids to look at you, toying with some plushies and decorations next to his bedpost. You realize you never had time to really notice them, barely recognizing them. You always entered the room blindly, pressed up against Jaehyun’s body and with his lips all over your neck, then left as soon as the sex was over. His apathy was infuriating.

One by one, you start to remove all of your outerwear, dropping your clothes on the floor until you’re left in only your bra and jeans. Jaehyun stares at you incredulously, then at the pile of clothes on the floor, unable to make out the reasoning behind your impromptu stripping.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting naked. Seems to be the only time you can actually pay attention to me.”

You reach for the buttons of your jeans, only able to unzip it halfway before Jaehyun has you pinned against the wall behind you, his fingers cool and pressing lightly against your neck.

“I-I fucking hate you!”, he cries, punching the surface to release some of the steam, and lets go of the hold on your neck almost completely. How tempted he is, to just fuck your right against that wall, pour out his anger by pouring out his cum inside you, then ignore each other like you always do.

It’s the easy thing to do, keeping the toxic circle going. All barking and fucking and no real problem gets resolved in the end. He wouldn’t even call a cab for you, preferring to be hated for something he wasn’t than to be rejected for showing the real him. You would still have no idea about his feelings towards you, going around saying how awful he was while asking for a round two. But Jaehyun was tired.

“Can’t you tell that I am trying to distance myself from you?”, he sighs and it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him sound so emotionally exhausted.

“Why do you dislike me so much? We used to be friends and then one day you-“

“Friends? Just friends?”, he interrupts you with a chuckle and a sarcastic puff through his nose, and you shake your head.

“If you also think that what we had was more special than a common friendship then why act like you don’t know me?”

“You were the one who wanted to ‘forget about anything happening and never telling a soul about it’, remember?”

“I thought we came to a mutual agreement! I was just trying to save our careers and it worked Jaehyun, you got to debut and I-“

“And you just threw away everything we had like it was the easiest thing to do! Do you ever want to know how I feel, y/n? First you want nothing to do with me, left the company without even saying goodbye. Then I try to forget about you, become an asshole to keep you out of my life and suddenly you want to jump my bones. One day you just play blind to everything, asking for professionalism and now I’m the one ignoring you? What the fuck do you want? A fuck buddy? A professional? A friend?”

“I want you, Yoonoh. Fuck, I just want you”

You’re not sure which one of you initiates the kiss. His lips are as plump and kissed as hard as you recalled, a couple of tears staining your cheeks that you didn’t realize you were holding back. It felt so right, the way his head pushed and pulled away from yours, always inviting you back to him. One hand was situated over the dimples of your waist, the other lost between your hair, untangling it gently. You decided to lay yours over his heart, feeling its tempo and calming yourself down.

You kiss for what seems like an eternity, so drunk in bliss that you can’t remember how you made it through life without Jaehyun’s taste all over your tongue. When he pulls away from your lips, you almost whine, but his fingertips dabbing at the soft skin of your cheeks feel just as comforting.

“I don’t want us to be like this anymore”, you whisper to him and he nods encouragingly, holding you even closer. “I’m sorry for not reaching out to you all these years ago, I just thought ‘What would a brand new idol want to do with a failed trainee like me’-“

Jaehyun brings your fingers to his lips, kissing all your knuckles one by one and you think you’re gonna burst at the seams. “You weren’t a failure, you were the best thing to happen to me back then”. His voice is so sincere that you don’t dare question the veracity of what he’s saying and you let him continue. “When I saw you again I was so bitter, I decided to turn off my feelings. I think I get too comfortable in that role. I put it on for me, my members, my fans even”, he stops then, laughing sadly, “it’s how I finally got you”

It was your turn to open up his eyes to the truth, holding his face between your hands and admiring its beauty. 

“That’s not true. I kept staying because I knew what was hidden behind all that armor. I guess, the sex was the only way to get closer to you”

“Not because I’m good?”, he jokes, wiggling his eyebrows and you can feel his dimples forming under your fingers.

“Eh, you’re pretty good too”

He starts pecking your neck, his smile obvious in his kisses and you squeal when he lifts you to his bed. Bouncing on the hard mattress, you let him lay his body weight over yours as he gives you a million traces of his love. 

“So, I’m guessing this means we start over?”, he asks reluctantly as he emerges from your half naked body and you hold back from cooing at him.

“I thought you loved to hate me?”

“I think I hate it, but I love you”

[deidearly]

Kakashi Relationship Headcanons

Guess who’s back with another relationship headcanon today? And as usual, I had a good time writing this one even got slightly carried away, hehe. Enjoy! XX. 

Well— Hatake Kakashi, huh? Dating him would be such a roller coaster ride, tbh. It’s like, one moment he’s so clingy, fragile, so afraid of losing you— but one moment he’s like, “Just do what you need to do. I don’t really care.” This is due to the fact that he’s got a lot of things in his mind and occasionally struggled to sort out his priorities. 

Anyway, of course you’ve complained about his ‘reading-smut-in-public’ issue, especially when you’re together. You two would come up with an agreement somehow. But to piss you off, he’d pretend like you’re the one who’s obsessed with reading smuts.

You’re browsing for some important books and he playfully yelled, “Y/N! Come here, it’s your favorite book— Icha Icha Tactics! My, I know you’ve had four books, but another one won’t hurt, right? Since you love it that much!” making everyone in the bookstore giggled.

He received “Y/N Signature Punch” that day.

To your surprise, he’s not very secretive about his relationship with you. In fact, you’ve caught him frequently use you as an excuse for him to escape some unwanted occasions.

Let’s say Gai was asking Kakashi to fight him like usual— and he wasn’t having it that day. “Gai, with all respect— I would gladly accept your challenge. But can’t you feel the springtime of romance youth is blooming? I must see Y/N immediately.”

Gai’s tearing up.

Don’t worry, he actually went to your place.

“Yo. Can we hang out? I just told Gai that I would come to your place. Please say ‘yes’ to make me less of a jerk, will you?”

Would totally show up in front of your place at an ungodly hour.

At first it surprised you but now you’re used to it.

You just finished your mission, it went pretty well but you felt there were some wasted chances due to your captain’s miscalculation. It’s nearly 2 AM but you caught yourself wide awake, reviewing back your battle– only to got distracted by a knock on your bedroom’s window. Instead of turning your head in surprise, you already knew who it was. To have a little fun for yourself, you ignored the sound, which was later followed by a second knock. Walking over to the window, you saw a silver-haired man with a mask. Although half of his face was covered, it’s obvious that a smile was apparent. “Yo.” he greeted, but you replied with a sigh. “You could actually knock on the door and I’d let you in through the door. It’s something normal people would do, Kakashi.” you grumbled, opening the window for him to get in. “Ah, spare me the lecture!”

So, reverse psychology works best for Kakashi. Like the Icha Icha Tactics– the more you ignore his behavior, he would actually try not to read his book in public like you told him to. But the more you complain, he’d read it in places where he shouldn’t be reading it at all. This method works in almost every cases.

You’ve been dating for weeks, but you haven’t seen his face.

Yes, when kissing, too.

You’ve had enough of kissing fabric. 

You had planned to make a dinner together at his place. He was preparing the dishes and you’re about to finish your cooking, when he suddenly asked, “Hey, Y/N. Have you ever wondered what would I look like under this mask?” You were dying to know actually. So, now you’re stuck with two options: (a) be honest about it, (b) pull out another reverse psychological answer— and you chose the latter. “Huh? Not really,” you shrugged, “I don’t really care so it’s not like I’m eager to see it.” and of course, this was a lie. Kakashi went silent for a while. “Anyway, dinner’s re—“ you swore you could’ve dropped the whole pan when you saw an unfamiliar presence. “Kakashi?” you asked hesitantly. The man looked up with a questioning look, “Why are you blushing?” he replied casually.

“ANYONE WITH A DECENT EYESIGHT WOULD BLUSH TOO, YOU STUPID.”

He’s honestly so heavenly to look at.

Sometimes it’s just too overwhelming to see his whole face, you thought.

It’s safe to say that it’s a privilege to be able to see his face. But due to his immense charm, you’d prefer to have him with a mask on.

“Y/N, I feel naked without my mask—“ , “And I honestly feel like I’m being forced to see an illicit nudity, too. Put your mask on, it’s fine honestly.”

He’s been very good at his job for almost his whole life, a fine shinobi. So, he’s rarely exposed to mundane things, moreover a relationship. Thus, making him quite restrained in expressing himself. Plus, he was labelled with some negative titles, saying how cold-blooded he was and he just decided to live with it. This, obviously, requires a lot of patience.

But he’s determined to change, the first step he took was letting you in— into his life.

It started rocky, though.

He’d say something like how he didn’t care much about you and sadly, he really didn’t.

But as the time went by he realized how your presence has been the one that helped him through it. How you’ve always been there to comfort him, by listening to him, giving him a lot of supports, or simply by reminding him that he’s not completely alone.

And when that moment came, he’s sworn to protect you with all his might.

He had a lot of nightmares, he still does, unfortunately. But when you’re around, your presence eases him up a little.

When you’re not around, however, he’d rather spend all night unhealthily tiring himself until he fall asleep.

His personal favorite would be curling up next to you with his hand around your waist while hiding his face near the crook of your neck as he’s giving you some soft neck kisses.

Again, NECK KISSES.

He had a hard time trying to open up himself fully to you and this applies to romantic gestures, I believe. He surely would take his time to explore you, what you like, and what he likes.

Would shower you with kisses, all over your face without missing a spot. He greatly admires every inches of yourself. 

Body worship, oof.

Lowkey (semi highkey) protective.

Lowkey (semi highkey) a show-off.

Would straight up jump to save you if it’s necessary.

And since he’s a show-off, he lowkey loves PDA— but the soft ones, of course. You two would always get spotted together. He would casually sling his arm around your shoulder or lazily has his hand wrapped around your waist.

Favorite time to spend with you is training together. No matter how many times you’ve told him to “fight with an intent to win” he simply refuses— saying how, he’s “far too powerful” for you.

But deep down he just doesn’t want to hurt you…

Chatting in the middle of a training

“Tsunade-sama hasn’t assigned me any missions lately *throws kunai*” , “Maybe if you threw your kunai accurately, she will. *dodge kunai*” , “Kakashi, shut your pretty mouth up. *throws MORE kunai aggressively*”

When you turned him down while he was showing off his new tricks, though, it weirdly turned him on.

He loves someone powerful, with a right amount of cocky.

Doesn’t talk big. He’s a man of action— his action speaks louder than words!

Doesn’t spoil you that much, though. Because it’s actually him who needs to be spoiled.

Really loves it when you trace your fingers all over his skin— it’s intimately soft, he claimed.

LOVES YOUR SCENT. Has it memorized probably.

He’d prefer someone independent. Someone who could actually take care of themselves instead of relying on him completely. 

Anyone too childish would remind him of Team 7, tbh.

Speaking of Team 7, they would probably be the one to get introduced to you.

Naruto was so shocked to find out that his sensei was capable to develop a romantic feeling towards someone. But he had his doubt— do you really know Kakashi? He started to bombard you with questions to test your knowledge.

“So, do you know what’s Kakashi Sensei’s favorite—“ , “I’ve seen his face. Multiple times.” , “YOU WHAT?”

Complained and sulked about it, “Kakashi Sensei, we’ve trained together for years. How could you?!”

Sakura was confused.

“How? I know he’s probably very handsome under that mask but come on, Y/N, reading smut in public? That’s an absolute no.”

On the contrary, Sasuke was thrilled, internally.

“Yeah. Finally. Old man has someone to annoy besides us. About time.”

He has a pretty bad behavior, too. Unlike Gaara, who’d put an emotionless facade when he’s only in the Kazekage mode, Kakashi would treat you just how he feels like doing it that day. 

Let’s be real, he has so many bottled up feelings inside his heart so it’s not a surprise that someday, somehow, a random painful emotion just hit him— hard, and he shut himself out.

The hospital is the place you immediately visit right after Kakashi’s arrival after a mission because you know he’d be there— reading his book with a few bruises here and there. But this time was a bit different. When he’s hospitalized, he would whine about you not being able to stay more than an hour— but right now you’re puzzled, since he’s been completely silent and avoiding you, answering your questions with a mere shrugs.

Tsunade told you that the mission went pretty well, thanks to Kakashi for eliminating all the enemies on the field, singlehandedly. You automatically knew that it must brought up his past traumas. “Kakashi, it’s not your fault.” you decided to speak, earning a glance from Kakashi, but that’s it. “It’s a mission and you protected all of your comrades!”

“I killed them, Y/N. I didn’t have to, but I did.” he said, with his eyes still glued elsewhere. “Every time I look at my hands, I feel dirty. It reminded me of that—“, “Kakashi, look at me.”

You moved closer to his bed, reaching out your hand and traced your fingers softly on his face. His cheeks were cold, and you could clearly see how he was slightly trembling with teary eyes. “Kakashi, if you didn’t do it— it could’ve been your own comrades. Now they’re safe and sound, thanks to you.”, you paused as he slowly began to move his sight to you. “And if I could meet you way sooner, I would remind you every day that it’s never your fault— it’s never been. You’re a good person, Kakashi. I, and all of us, are forever thankful for the things you’ve done.” you whispered, now wiping a few tears that fell down to his cheeks. A weak smile started to bloom, “I’m forever thankful for you as well, Y/N.”

[alpacaparkaseok]

Heartbreak Ave.

When they’re in love with you but you have feelings for a different member (Hyung line)

→ tags/warnings: SFW, angstyyyyy (like, I’m sorry but at the same time I wanted to write something sad), no, there’s not a happy ending really idk so read at your own heart’s risk, but like really. I was listening to “Manos de Tijera” while writing this so it’s a wee bit heartbreaking

→ a/n: I don’t really write reactions very often but this seemed fun when @sierra-fics​ brought it up! I actually have one of your suggestions in my drafts, just haven’t finished it up yet. Thanks for the push, though! I love exploring different styles!

read the maknae line version here!

Kim Seokjin

he’s not surprised

it’s probably the worst part for him, the fact that he’s not surprised when your eyes light up as Taehyung waltzes in the room. 

he had been in the middle of plucking up the courage to invite you to try out that new Thai restaurant you’d been chattering about when Tae walked in

and you tried - you really did - to pay attention to what Jin had been saying, but you faltered a bit as Tae greeted you warmly and plopped down beside Jin

and Jin just watched, not surprised. 

although what does surprise him is how much it hurts

that pain where your heart literally, physically hurts? it’s an exquisite pain, one that takes his breath away

and it doesn’t go away

it doesn’t fade

so he ends up in Namjoon’s studio later that night, and Namjoon knows to wait for him to open up

Jin just stares for a while, blankly at the wall

“Does Tae like her?”

Namjoon already knows who he’s referring to. He’s known about Jin’s helpless crush on you for ages, he knew before Jin himself figured it out

but it’s the way that Jin asks the question so softly, so carefully, that Namjoon realizes with a start that this is so much more than a crush

and Jin looks at him, misery clear in his eyes but also clear resolve visible  even as unshed tears glimmer 

“Would you really let her go?” Namjoon counters gently. Because he knows. He knows that if Tae got the green light, you'd be swept up in a matter of seconds.

and it’s the way that Jin stares down at his feet, and the tears begin rolling down his cheeks, that has Namjoon sick to his stomach

Jin nods, and when he speaks, his voice shakes but he sounds so earnest that it breaks Namjoon’s heart

“I’d do anything for her.”

no words are exchanged after that for a long, heart-wrenching moment. it’s just Jin, staring down at his feet and quietly sobbing, and Namjoon, pulling him into an embrace. 

“I’m sorry, hyung.”

it’s surprising to Jin, just how much that soft phrase cuts through him. It sounds so final. 

because at the end of the day, it’s the only solace that can be offered to him. 

he lost. 

he loved, and he lost.

Min Yoongi

you’re sitting beside him in his studio when the realization hits him like a freight train

sprawled sideways in your designated swivel chair while you stifle a yawn and rub your eyes, Yoongi wonders when he let his emotions get so out of hand

because you’re offering him a shy smile and asking him a question that he numbly answers, but on the inside he’s a total clueless mess

when did he fall in love with you?

it’s something that will haunt him long after you leave that night, rushing out when you get a call from Hobi

for the second time that night, he’s hit with another realization

he’s still reeling from the fact that he’s pretty sure he’s in love with you, so when you gasp and grin when your phone light up with a call, he falters

it’s like being doused with a bucket of ice water, the way you whisper, “oh, it’s Hobi!” and politely ask if you can take the call before rushing out into the hallway

“oh,” he mumbles to himself as the door closes. “it’s Hobi.”

and he laughs. 

quietly, darkly. he laughs to himself, at himself, whatever. 

because of course it’s Hobi. his best friend, his vitamin. you two deserve each other. of that much he’s certain. 

he doesn’t waste too much time feeling sorry for himself; he’s logical enough to see that you two are probably a better match. it’s nothing personal.

so why does he stay in his studio all night, ignoring any calls or messages sent his way?

he’s not sure when he fell asleep, but next thing he knows he’s sprawled out on his little couch and you’re gently shaking him awake

“Yoongo? Did you stay here last night?”

his eyes crack open at the sound of your voice, just enough to be met with your sweet smile

and he, in his half-asleep state, smiles back. he reaches one hand up to gently brush back a strand of your hair, and he swears you lean into his touch

and when you mumble something about Hobi bringing breakfast up, Yoongi is hit with the third realization in less that twenty-four hours.

it’s startlingly simple: 

he wants to cry. 

so he excuses himself to the bathroom, and cries. sets a five minute timer so nobody gets worried and comes looking for him, and allows himself that time to cry. 

then, with machine-like precision, he washes his face and puts some eyedrops in, and goes back out to pretend like everything is fine.

and whenever Jin or Taehyung bring up acting, Yoongi knows. He knows, deep down, that he’s the best actor of all. 

because he still loves you

and you will never know.

Jung Hoseok

hobi has never been the most forthcoming with his emotions

he keeps them on lockdown

monitors them with military-like focus

so he knows the exact moment he begins developing feelings for you

(it’s when you brought Bang PD a bouquet for valentine’s day, just to make him blush)

and he knows the exact second when he fell in love

(it was when, after a grueling day at work, you silently walked through his door with his favorite goodies and left without a single word)

(you were wearing a yellow cardigan that day)

(he’s never looked at the color yellow the same way)

if he’s completely honest, he’s sometimes trying so hard to stay on top of his own feelings that he forgets to watch out for where your attention may be drifting

to be fair, you kept your own little crush on Jimin a secret

so when Hobi decides to get over himself and just shoot his shot, he decides he’s all in

and when you arrive at his apartment that night for a movie, you’re shocked to see a bouquet of yellow flowers in Hobi’s shaking hands

“hey” he breathes

you stare at the flowers, then at him

“hello...?” then, with a sinking felling, you point at the flowers. “are those for me?”

hobi smiles broadly. “yeah, they are.” and he hands them to you, allowing his fingers to brush up against yours 

it’s electrifying, that small touch

and again, he’s so focused on how electrifying it is that he misses the way you look like you might be sick

pale face, concerned expression

he misses it all, because he’s so nervous but so stupidly in love that he’s just barreling ahead.

gotta get this out of the way

ugh, feelings

and so when he leads you to sit with him out on the balcony, he takes a deep breath and looks at you with wonder in his eyes

and that’s when he notices the way you’re fiddling with your bracelet

not a problem, except for the fact that it’s the one he saw Jimin carefully choosing from an online collection

so when you keep fiddling with the bracelet and avoiding Hobi’s eye contact, he gets it

he takes a long look at all those emotions he keeps in check, and allows himself a moment of self-pity before reaching out and laying a hand atop your own

you immediately stop fidgeting and look at him with wide eyes. he can see with a pang how you’re trying to come up with the best way to let him down easy

so he does the job for you

“I just wanted to say thank you for the other day,” he says, forcing a light tone. “when you brought me those goodies after work. It really meant a lot.”

you blink, confused. “Oh. uh, you’re welcome.”

“and,” he drawls, a well-rehearsed smile clawing its way onto his face, “I wanted to snoop and get the inside scoop about Jiminie. I know he got you that bracelet. did he finally cave and confess to you?”

you look shocked, but you burst out into relieved laughter. “how did you know?”

he didn’t. “how could I not? he’s absolutely whipped.”

and you blush under the stars and begin to ramble, lost in your excitement and joy. 

and Hobi watches. smiling. supportive. laughing at the right spots and asking all the right questions. 

later, when you give him a tight hug and thank him for the fun night, he lets the words sting as you call him “such a great friend.” he lets them sting, relishing in the pain. 

he reminds you to take your flowers home, and you begrudgingly admit that they’re your favorite type of flower. 

he didn’t know. but that hurts, too. the fact that he got it right. 

Hobi never looks at the color yellow the same way again.

Kim Namjoon

he’s told you he loves you a million times now

every night, in every dream, he tells you how much he loves you

adores you with everything he is

you manage to find your way into his music, his musings, every piece of artwork he comes across

he's never been like this before

never, he’s sure of it

and everyone knows, except for you.

it becomes a strange game for the boys to play, dropping hints at every opportunity, laughing at your confused expression

Jungkook and Taehyung especially enjoy the chaos that they create, making Namjoon groan and grow embarrassed

but you have no idea

or are you just willfully ignorant?

all Namjoon knows is that he’s swimming in his feelings for you, completely lost and on the verge of drowning

but, oh, what a way to die

he’s never been able to stop himself when it comes to you

and he considers himself rather disciplined, but the way you make him feel he could throw caution to the wind and give it all up

so when you end up staying late one night at the apartment, the boys manage to convince you to stay

“there’s plenty of room” Jungkook muses, feigning deep thought. “besides, it’s too late for you to drive back tonight. just stay.”

and while Namjoon wants to kill them all for the way they offer up his bed to you, he thinks he might actually die when you reluctantly agree with a yawn

he knows he should offer to take the couch, but something stops him

it’s like he physically can’t

“I don’t mind sharing the bed” you state, squinting at him while wearing his basketball shorts and oversized t-shirt. 

you look adorable. he’s unsure of how he’s even functioning right now, to be honest. he’s melting.

“just keep your snoring in check, loser”

and he’s back to laughing, turning off the light and hopping into bed

you’re so far away

why are you so far away?

“hey” he whispers, the sound so loud in the quiet. the only other sound is the muffled voices of the other members, no doubt down in the kitchen gossiping about the events of the night

“hey yourself” you whisper back, turning to face him

he can see you in the moonlight, his eyes having adjusted just enough.

and he wants to kiss you so badly

so he smiles, heart leaping when you smile back

and he reaches out, gently tracing your jawline. 

you say nothing, heart thundering in your chest

because to be honest, you’re confused 

why is he looking at you like that?

but you don’t ask as Namjoon takes a deep breath, steadying himself before propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at you with an adoring expression

your eyes flutter closed as he brushes his thumb against your cheek, and he can feel your heartbeat racing

your reaction gives him all the courage he needs as he leans down, lips capturing your own in a long, sweet kiss

and he’s going out of his mind because he finally kissed you, didn’t he?! finally!! 

but those are your hands on his chest, and instead of pulling him in closer you’re gently pushing him away

“namjoon.”

he’s never hated his name so much.

“I’m so sorry- I- I thought that maybe-” he stutters, pulling himself upright as you do the same, and he launches out of bed, hands in his hair “I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable-”

“Namjoon.” you repeat, and he notices now how utterly distraught you look. 

because you’re still confused, but there’s one name rolling around in your head even as you can still taste namjoon on your lips. 

“I...” you shake your head, unsure of what to say. “It’s just...”

and he’s looking at you with big eyes, taking in every single word you say. and you want to take it all back, want to let him kiss you until you’re breathless, but your heart won’t let you. 

“Just what?” he asks quietly, afraid of the answer. so afraid

“...Jungkook.”

two syllables, and his world comes crashing down around him. 

namjoon is silent, avoiding your gaze as he grabs one of the pillows off of the bed and a spare blanket, heading toward the door. 

“I’ll sleep on the couch. I’m sorry.”

and he’s gone before you can utter another word. 

sure enough, the boys are still downstairs, and they all fall silent as Namjoon appears, throwing the pillow down on the couch. 

“Hyung!” Jungkook asks, scrambling over. “Hyung, what happened? What are you doing down here?”

Namjoon can’t bring himself to look at the maknae, not when he can still picture how it felt to kiss you. not when those few seconds of paradise are still on his lips. 

“Didn’t wanna wake her up with my snoring.”

because how could he ever be angry at the boy that looks at him like he’s his savior?

--

m.list || buy me an orange juice?

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[johnkrrasinski]

𝙞𝙣𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜

Chapter 3: chains around my demons

full masterlist // series masterlist // commission open // support my work

Pairings: bucky barnes x reader

Word Count: 1,798

Summary: blessed with telepathic abilities since birth, you were captured by HYDRA and turned into one of their weapons to kill. after the blip, you were pardoned by the government and you were obliged to check up with dr. raynor everyday which you had no clue would lead you to the one soul you’d been waiting for.

Warnings: SMUT!! (18+) angst, mentions of anxiety, nightmares, murders.

A/N: this series is dedicated to the lovely @ohmickeyhenry who commissioned this story and developed the concept. thank you for trusting me with your story. i sincerely hope you like it.

The next day, you packed up your bags and were ready to leave. You were waiting on Sam to arrive at Wakanda with the quinjet so he could fly you and Bucky back to the compound. You were a little bummed about leaving Wakanda, it had been a therapeutic experience for you and Bucky to be here. The thought of living the domestic life, in a beautiful place like Wakanda that is far away from the bustling city of New York was enticing. Sometimes you’d look at Bucky just walking around in his shirt and sweatpants doing the most mundane things instead of getting prepared for another mission and you’d think “I could get used to this.”

You thanked T’Challa, Shuri, Queen Ramonda and the Dola Milaje for everything they had done before you bid your farewell. You promised to stay in contact with Shuri and the Dora Milaje but it was still hard to leave them, they were truly the best people you had ever met. They reminded you of everything HYDRA was not. You could see why Bucky always spoke so highly of them.

Later that night, you had the compound all to yourself. Tony was having a date night with Pepper, Natasha was on a mission to Hungary, Sam was visiting his sister in Louisiana and Rhodey was dealing with some air force matters. As much as you loved the Avengers, you were grateful for this moment alone with Bucky.

The dimmed lights in the kitchen where you and Bucky just had dinner gave him an idea, “doll, get up…”

She did as he told even though she had no clue what he was planning, “for what, Bucky?”

He didn’t answer her but rather, he commanded FRIDAY to play a song called Put Your Heart on My Shoulder by Paul Anka. “Let’s dance, doll.”

He put his flesh hand on your waist and took your left hand with his vibranium arm, “I haven’t danced in ages, Buck.”

“Me neither, doll, but we’ll learn from each other,” he smiled affectionately at you.

It started off slow and you kept your eyes on each other, saying things that words can’t illustrate. It’s love, the realization of how fortunate you both were to have found each other. “I wish we could stay like this forever,” you uttered softly as you fiddled with his dog tags.

“Me too, doll. But we got each other now, I won’t let anything keep me away from you for too long.”

There was a brief silence. “Do you remember the last time you danced like this?”

“1945, Stark Expo, before I was shipped out to England. Her name was Connie and I took Steve with me because I wanted to spend it with him on my last night. I set him up with Connie’s friend but the punk just left to try to enlist in the army.”

Steve. You’d heard about him from Natasha and Tony. No one outside of the Avengers really knew where he was but you knew that he went back in time. That’s all you knew about it. You had also learned about his and Bucky’s friendship and how they really went all the way back. You were often curious about his ‘disappearance’ however you didn’t wanna pry or made Bucky feel worse. Losing a friend was always hard, let alone someone who was his only connection to his past, the life that he knew before he was forced to live out those violent years. You’d heard from Sam about how Steve was the only reason why Bucky stayed alive and how he had thought about committing suicide before. Now that he was gone, Sam often feared that Bucky would snap and give in to it but he always tried to be there for him. You were just glad that Bucky had Sam even before you were around.

“Do you… miss Steve?” you hesitantly asked as you rested your head on his chest.

“All the time,” He confessed. You were a tad relieved that Bucky wanted to open up about him to you. “He was the only family I got left, and when he went back, I felt empty. I was just lucky that Sam didn’t give up on me… And that, I met you.”

You smiled, you lifted your head to look at him. “You’re never gonna lose me. Not again,” you touched his face and he kissed you. It was soft, nothing like the kiss on your last night in Wakanda, but you could feel him pouring all the emotions and gratitude he had for you and you did just the same.

He lifted you as you wrapped his legs around his waist, still maintaining that kiss. Bucky carried you onto the dining table where you just had your dinner and he laid you there as he trailed to your throat and all the way down to your body which was now half-exposed after he lifted the hem of your shirt up until your breasts were revealed.

You weren’t wearing any bra so it was easier for him to access your nipples, he sucked on the right one as his flesh hand made its way down to your pants, unbuttoning it, and he inserted his fingers to find your clit, rubbing it in circles, making you even wetter every second. You shut your eyes, letting him have his way with your body.

His fingers and his tongue worked so magically that within seconds, he had you close to orgasm. “Bucky, so close…” You could feel his smirk against your nipple and he rubbed you faster. You moaned his name as you released all over his digits, soaking them up and he lifted his head to look into your eyes as he sucked your juices all over his hand like a fucking ice cream.

“You taste like heaven, sweetheart.” The sight of Bucky staring intensely at you as he sucked on his fingers that were drenched by your cum was euphoric, like watching a live homemade porn video. Bucky took off his sweatpants and his shirt, discarding them on the floor. Seeing him shirtless never ceased to mesmerize you, his body was a work of art. He’d told you one night that it took him a while to accept the scars on his body, let alone the bionic arm that felt nothing like a human but you told him that you loved every inch of it and if you could, you’d worship it forever.

Bucky then lifted the shirt that was still rumpled on your chest, up to your wrists, where he used it as a makeshift knot, keeping your hands above your head, “stay there, understand?”

“Yes, sergeant.” You had no idea what sparked that nickname, but from the way he grinned, he sure loved it and if he loved it, then you were sure to use that in future steamy sessions.

“Sergeant, huh? You’re in big trouble, darling.” Bucky tore your damp panties and you gasped, not expecting him to be so aggressive… Not that you were complaining though. “Bucky…”

“Shh, let me take care of you, baby.” He kissed you ferociously, with his tongue completely dominating your mouth. Without any warning, his middle finger intruded your body… But it was an entirely different feeling from the last time he did that to you because he was using his vibranium arm and the sensation instantly took over your body, running in your veins like that serum in his blood.

“Oh God, Buck…” You whined as you looked down to where his finger was moving in and out of you at a slow pace.

“Does it feel good?” He asked as he kept looking at your face, searching for any signs of discomfort but with each motion, you only seemed to enjoy it.

“Yes, it feels fucking amazing… Don’t stop, please.”

He began to move his digits faster, and when your wails grew louder, he inserted another finger and you arched your back. “Fuck, oh God…” Bucky curled his fingers to brush your sweet spot, pushing you to the edge and you cum for the second time all over his vibranium hand.

“You’re so hot when you cum,” he whispered in a gravelly low voice that could weaken any woman in the knees. He pulled his fingers out of you and he used your juices to stroke his member to make it easier to slide into you.

Bucky lifted your legs onto his shoulders and he lined his cock to your entrance, slowly as he felt your walls fluttered around him. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” Bucky began moving, he was taking his time with your body, wanting to feel every inch of you and you of him, and you whimpered with every thrust. He felt so heavy between your hips that you could feel your orgasm approaching fast, even with the languid pace.

“I’m not gonna last long…” You said in between whimpers.

“I know, doll. Just let go when you’re ready, okay?” He began to speed up, his grunts and the sound of your skin slapping was obscene, making you nearly forget you were fucking in the place where the Avengers would feast (if they found out what you did on this table, Tony would hire a cleaning service company to scrub the entire surface thrice.)

The coil in your lower abdomen tightened and you knew you were seconds away from rupturing. A few more thrusts and you hit your peak. Bucky kept holding your hips tightly and he continued to pound into you, prolonging your orgasm as he chased his own climax. Your body trembled from the aftershocks but from the way Bucky was impaling you, you could feel a fourth orgasm coming and you didn’t know if you could take it anymore.

He felt you squeezing his cock once again and you both came together, pleasure washed over both of you. He shot his load inside you, painting your walls white. A few more shallow thrusts to blow every drop he had left within him. He stayed inside you as he hid his face between your neck and your shoulder, the warmth of his body on top of you was comforting despite the sweat all over your body.

Bucky lifted his head to look at you and sweep the strands of hair sticking on your forehead, “you okay?” he panted. You could only respond by nodding, not moving because of the weight of him still between your legs and how completely spent you were.

Once he had regained his composure, he retreated himself out of you and he carried you in bridal style to your room, wanting nothing else than to take care of you with a hot bath and forehead kisses under the duvet.

tags; @ohmickeyhenry @suitofvibraniumarmor @themaddies-obx @themaddies-obx @beminetokeep @bluemoon-icecream @bluemoon-icecream @harprs @thefridgeismybestie @abitofeverythingg @wolfonthemoonwatchestvshows @julimelodi @bookscoffeandotherstuff @tanyaherondale @artisancowbells @ferxaniti @intothesoul @hallecarey1 @buckybarnesplumwhore @thefallenbibliophilequote @andiyholly @emizla @capxwinter @jevans2 @alwaysreadingimagineschick @swtltlmrvlgrl @extremelyblackandwhite

[mae-gi-writes]

My Heart Beats | Seo Changbin (Stray Kids)

Synopsis:

You're dying, all because of the love that Seo Changbin has for someone else.

Genre: hanahaki au! Lots of angst, little fluff, Chan is a good wingman. Happy ending! 

----

There was a lot of coughing, at first.

You weren't exactly sure why your throat scratched so badly that it burned like it was on fire, only downed a few cough drops with the hope that it'd go away after a few days. You told yourself that maybe if you waited it out long enough, it would go away by itself and you wouldn't spend nights lying in bed, practically curling in on yourself as you tried to keep the coughing to a minimum.

It didn't get better.

Of course, the first few times you'd cough into your sleeve, your close friend and classmate Changbin would ask you if you were sick -- with that disgruntled frown that only you could decipher as concern -- but you had merely shaken your head then before batting away his worries with a brush of your fingers.

It had escaped your notice, how your throat clamped up whenever he was close by, how you would suddenly erupt whenever he would play with your hair or brush some dust off your shoulder.

"Seriously Y/N, go see a doctor or something," he said one day after your Photograohy seminar where you had spent three quarters of it muffling your coughs. That had garnered you numerous dirty looks from your classmates, "maybe you're developing an allergy."

"It doesn't come all the time," you replied breathlessly while plastering a smile on your face.

He wasn't convinced.

And then, when you stumbled upon him in the cafeteria sitting across from a girl you'd seldom met before, that had been the last straw.

You had barely managed to make it to the toilet, hand cupped against your mouth and running like your life depended on it, stumbling into the nearest stall to empty the contents of your stomach.

Only, it wasn't.

You watched, horrified, as blood poured out of your mouth like a gushing waterfall filled with bits and pieces of broken branches, plant stems, petals. You couldn't tear your eyes away from it no matter how much you tried, chest heaving and breaths ragged as you gazed at the mess in the toilet bowl with the slow realization sinking into you.

Hanahaki.

You were dying. You were dying because plants were now growing into your heart, taking over your lungs and your body.

That was when you got a second realization:

That you were in love with Seo Changbin. And he was clearly in love with someone else. 

------

"Long time no see.” 

You jolted from your seat, head whipping up and partly expecting to see the said raven-haired man that you had been avoiding most week to be standing there with a scowl on his face. Instead, you were genuinely surprised to find one of his closest friends instead. 

Chan looked down at you with furrowed brows and from the way his eyes skimmed over your features, you guessed he was seeing the side effects of the hanahaki just as much as you were, “jesus, Y/N. Are you sick or something?” 

“Bad cold,” you faked a laugh, quickly scrambling to cover the book title currently spread open for him to see, but Chan hd quick reflexes, arm sneaking underneath yours to yank the said book out of your arms and ignoring your protests. 

He read the title once, twice. Flipped a few pages, frown growing so deep on his face that his eyebrows were practically kissing at the centre, and you were about to make a joke out of it -- to make light of the situation -- when his eyes snapped back up to you. And what you saw in them caused all jokes to die upon your tongue.

“What is this, Y/N?” 

You tried to ignore the shakiness in his alto, or the emotion blazing through his dark irises. Your chest hurt with that same familiar ache you had grown accustomed to over the days, causing you to look away as you murmured out your reply: 

"What it says it is.” 

It was useless to lie. Chan was sharp. There’d be no use lying to him.

He sucked in a breath and you quickly scrambled out, “don’t tell Changbin.” 

Brown orbs boring into yours for a few seconds too long, you forced yourself to return his gaze with a pleading look of your own, and it seemed like he figured it out for himself for he merely dropped his eyes before looking away. 

“It’s him, isn’t it?” he murmured, “It’s Changbin.” 

Your head bowed. Your silence said everything. His breath hitched, grasping your shoulder so that you turned to face the wetness of his eyes as tears brimmed at the corners, “stop it. You can stop it right? There’s got to be a cure for that now.” 

Oh, how it would be wonderful to believe there was even a cure. But the only solution was surgery and even that came with its risks. Plus, extracting the hanahaki from your heart meant to erase Changbin altogether from your life and as much as it killed you literally to be existing in this state every single day, you couldn’t bear the thought of leaving behind all the memories that you and Changbin had built together. 

Thankfully, Chan wasn’t forceful in his argument when you pleaded that you felt more comfortable dealing with this alone. He did, however, constantly check up on you on days where you looked especially gaunt, when the pouches under your eyes were so blue he feared that they would swallow up your whole face, or when he noticed how you left your lunch untouched, opting to sip silently on your soy milk instead. 

“Who is she?” You had asked once, your soprano barely above a raspy whisper, as your eyes trailed over Changbin’s figure leaning in towards what the girl was saying. 

“Her name’s Yoreum,” Chan had mumbled through mouthfuls of his meat sandwich, “apparently she’s a transfer student from Japan, and very interested in Changbin.” 

“Good for him, I guess,” you mumbled. 

A minute later, you excused yourself to the bathroom, palm halting the trickle of blood from your lips.

You weren’t exactly certain how this disease worked. Was it due to your inner feelings? Or did it depend on Changbin’s? Or both? The books you read had told you endless tales of varying consequences and different situations, which didn’t help the matter in the least. In fact, it left you even more in the dark, if that was possible. 

You knew that it would be impossible to avoid Seo Changbin forever for once he set his mind to something, it was a force not to be reckoned with. You had kept up a stream of excuses about being sickly and that it was exams season. But all your efforts were futile after a few weeks when you spotted the said man standing at the front of your apartment complex, tapping his feet to keep the coldness of spring at bay. 

You had half a mind to run away, drop everything and just make a dash for it. But Changbin spotted you before you could do anything and he closed the gap between you two in less than three strides, quickly encapsulating you in a hug. 

Your breath hitched. The itch was back, your throat tingling like crazy. You paused for a few seconds and allowed his scent to overwhelm you, before pushing him away to cough into your sleeve. 

“Damn Y/N. Chan was right. You really are sick.” 

"Wha--" you tried to force the itch down your throat, "are you doing--"

Your body jerked as you felt it give way to the pain that twisted your torso in two and you turned away just in time to clamp a hane over your mouth as you coughed like there was no tomorrow.

Warm liquid splattered over your palm. The metallic stench of blood filled your nostrils.

"Y/N," Changbin made a move towards you, "are you--"

Holding up a hand, you felt him halt as another round of coughs ripped through your already-dry throat. You didn't realize that your legs gave out at some point until a pair of hands quickly grasped the back of your elbows, and though you wished to push him away, pain rippled through your body as you all but collapsed to the floor, blood and branches and petals splattering onto the ground.

You didn't have to look at his face to know that his body was tensed in shock, frozen as he took in the sight before him. Scrambling for words, they all died at the back of your throat when you glanced over at his clenched jaw, the slow reality that blooms through his dark pupils. 

Silence filled the air.

“What--” he choked up, “is this?” 

You opened your mouth to answer, closed it when you couldn’t find anything. Before you, Changbin’s fists curled, clenching at his sides as he surveyed the mess of blood and dried up flowers. 

"Tell me this is not what I think it is,” he whispered. 

Still, you said nothing.

“Tell me!” He bellowed. 

“Changbin, I--” another round of coughs made your body twist on itself as you struggled to answer him, maybe lie through your teeth even though it was too late, “I can explain--” 

“Explain what?! That you’re dying?!” he swivelled around with barely restrained anger and that made you flinch back, “you kept this from me?! Why?! Tell me Y/N--” 

But his shouts were drowned out by your endless coughing and heaving, leaning forward to choke out a few petals dripping with fresh blood onto the ground. Your mind was swirling with excuses, trying to come up with the stupidest reasons as to why your body was behaving this way and maybe telling him that it was all due to someone else who couldn’t love you back. But the more you tried to fight the urge to throw up, the more you kept on gagging on your own blood. 

Arms came around your middle to lift you up, Changbin’s scent surrounding your figure as he managed to haul you to your feet and half-carry you inside your flat. It wasn’t until your body was laid down on the couch that you managed to utter out a soft “thank you”, which sounded more like an apology than anything else.

Changbin grunted, momentarily going out of your peripheral and returning with a sac plastic, in case you had anything more to cough out, which warmed your heart despite the cold harsh truth lingering before your very eyes. A truth that you knew had to be verbalized, sooner or later.

“Who is it?” 

His question caught you off-guard. Glancing up, your throat constricted at the way he gazed back at you, eyes dark and glossy with emotion.

Dropping your head to the floor, you mumble out something incoherent. You wished he could drop it.

“Who is it?” he growled.

Your jaw clenched. There was no escaping him, nothing could salvage the situation. So you closed your eyes, took a deep breath, before finally looking up at the raven-haired man sitting opposite you. 

“It’s you.” 

His anger dissolved into shock. He stared you down, mouth parted, for a few seconds.

When he spoke next, his words were barely above a murmur, “what?” 

He was staring at you as if you had just grown out a second head. But as much as you felt like flinching away, you kept your eyes steady, even when they welled up with tears, even when they burned from the way you caught sight of his expression slowly crumbling as the realization sank into his bones.

“You’re joking,” he whispered mostly to himself as he shook his head, “no. It’s not--What? It can’t be me, unless--”

“I love you.” 

His eyes snapped back to you and your breath stilled in your throat. The buzzing silence in the air twisted, thick with tension and from the remnants of your words that echoed in the distance between your bodies.

“But--” Changbin opened his mouth, closed it. Opened it again. His frown deepened and his silence conveyed the inner conflict going on through his brain as you sat there with your world crumbling apart, wishing that he didn’t leave you for the last few days of your existence. 

You’d be gone all too soon. And then, and then life would go on. Changbin would go on. After all, he deserved to be loved by someone whom his heart desired. 

“I love you,” you repeated, the words breaking against your parted lips and tearing at your heart with every shaky inhale. You squeezed your eyes shut before burying your face into one of the couch pillows in hopes that this moment would just disappear, in hopes that this was all a well-constructed nightmare.

It felt like an eternity before you heard the rough alto of Changbin’s voice. It was choked, like he was having a hard time keeping himself together and though you wished to do something to ease his pain, you also knew that if you took a look at him, you’d crumble in seconds. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

The sentence echoed through your ears, pain tugging at your heartstrings with every second that passed.

Without looking at him, you answered in a whisper, “because it’s not your fault.” 

"Not my fault?” His voice rose in anger, “not my fault? How is this not my fault? You love me, you’re dying because you love me. How--Fuck Y/N! How the fuck am I supposed to live with that?! I--” 

“Please,” your broken soprano flies out between you like a needle that hits him straight in the heart, “please. Not now.” 

If there was any reason why you hadn’t wanted to tell the said man straight up about the hanahaki was exactly for that reason; you loathed the idea of having Changbin beat himself up for the feelings that tormented your heart. It wasn’t his fault, but knowing the kind of person that he was, you were certain he’d feel guilty about not returning your feelings. 

But that wasn’t what you wanted. Not just some half-hearted love. Not a love that got drawn out from pity. You didn’t want him to love you, if that meant that he lost himself in the process. 

All you wanted, prayed for, was his happiness.

And that wasn’t you, as harsh as that was of a pill to swallow.

------

You woke up the next day to find Changbin still on the couch, sleeping where you had left him last evening to hide in your bedroom. When you’d gently lulled him out of sleep, he’d proceeded to make some breakfast while chatting about the most random things and quite frankly, ignoring the elephant in the room. It came to the point where you had snapped and asked what were his true intentions. To which he answered, as though it was the simplest solution: 

“I’m spending some time with my best friend,” he’d glanced over at you from his breakfast plate filled with eggs and sausages, “isn’t that obvious?” 

“But--” 

“Y/N, you’re not the only one who cares about this relationship,” Changbin looked away, before looking back with tears glimmering at the corners of his eyes, “if I can’t change my heart, then I’ll change the way I spend my time.”

You tried again, “I don’t want your pity--”

“Unless you want me to feel guilty for the rest of my life.” 

“You’re..." you watched him, unsure of what exactly was going on inside that head of his. Sometimes, his logic didn’t add up.This was one of those times, “now you’re making me feel guilty.” 

“Do you not want me around?” 

It seemed that your condition might have shaken him up more than you initially thought. His presence had always been a constant and yet up until now, he’d been busier, schedules more packed with activities and socializing with his other course mates whenever he had blocks of free time. He’d lock himself in his studio alone whenever inspiration struck and though you had always respected his personal space, there was no denying that some part of you missed him deeply. But it wasn’t like you could tell him that, knowing that it would merely be selfish of you to do so.

“That’s not what I--”

“Thought so,” and he got up from the table, signalling that the conversation was a case closed and dusted before directing himself towards the sink. You’d only dipped your head back towards your plate, trying hard not to let the heat colour your cheeks the way it always did whenever you found your best friend attractive. It had been getting harder and harder to stop yourself from reacting, and now that your feelings were out in the open, you hoped that Changbin would play along and ignore them altogether. 

Now though, now was different. Changbin actively sought you out; in the library he’d bring you cappuccinos with almond milk and an extra coffee shot just as you liked before sitting down to ‘study’ opposite you, he’d call you up at the most random times to chill at your flat even if that meant basking in hours of comfortable silence while you worked side by side. He’d even drag you to the studio with him, adamant on making you listen through his countless tracks with excuses that he needed a second opinion.

"I have questionable taste. You of all people should know that,” you would argue whenever he’d fight to place the headphones over your ears. You let him though, enjoying the warmth of his figure whenever he leaned over yours to fiddle with the headset. 

“Exactly why I want you to listen,” Changbin’s voice was muffled and yet, the way his breaths brushed against your ear caused your stomach to tingle. 

You wished to believe that his attention was intentional, that it came to him as naturally as breathing. But you knew it wasn’t. Because as soon as he’d walk away from you, you had to rush to the nearest bathroom to cough up more and more flower stems ceremoniously. 

And it was okay, really. It was bearable. You were happy enough to have him for a little while, even though you knew it would last up until the day you closed your eyes for the last time.

Once, he’d invited you over to make sushi -- he’d claimed beforehand that he was a good sushi roller and that this was just an excuse to flaunt his skills -- and he’d dragged you out to the supermarket with him, threatening that you wouldn’t be getting any of the salmon if you didn’t. So you’d reluctantly followed, complaining along the way as you trailed after him like a five-year-old child. 

It was when you were in the middle of looking at the salmon that you were suddenly overtaken with that familiar burn in your throat. Doubling over and trying to breathe as evenly as possible, you turned away from the food display just in time to cough up blood in your palm.

Changbin was at your side in an instant, hands circling your middle while murmuring his concern in your ears while you tried forcing down the pain slowly brimming over your mouth. At this point, you hadn’t realized that your best friend had slid you into his arm while he’d yelled at everyone to get the fuck out of the way, not until you were met with the outside air and was suddenly slammed by a round of coughing that just wouldn’t stop. 

You felt Changbin’s hands against your back, stroking soft circles as you coughed and coughed and coughed. Blood splattered over your clothes, on the ground, dribbled down your chin in a stream filled with flower petals and stems that grated against your lips. 

The more you coughed, the more flowers appeared. You noticed tulips, roses, daisies as well now. Those were new, you thought bitterly as you heaved.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed since, nor how you found yourself pressed against Changbin’s chest with your head tucked under his chin. He held you softly, tenderly, and you didn’t have the self-restraint to stop the silent tears from dribbling down your chin.

You loved him. 

You didn’t want to die.

“That’s a pretty big bouquet you just made,” came his soft murmur in the shell of your ear, causing a faint smile to twitch at your lips. Indeed, the array of flowers littering the ground would’ve been nothing less of beautiful, if not for the large amount of blood that you had just lost. 

“Changbin,” you breathed out weakly.

“Hm?” 

"I’m...” your head lolled against his neck when you tried to look up at him but failed, “I’m sorry.” 

His body stilled. Then, he said, “what for?” 

“For taking away your time,” your voice was thick with emotion.

“You’re not. I spend my time however I want,” his hold tightened, “if I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be.” 

Still. You felt bad. You opened your mouth to apologize once more, only for him to beat you to it by pressing a finger to your lips.

"Don't," he said, "apologize."

Fire had seeped from his finger to litter across your cheeks and you were glad that your face was hidden from view, for you were bound to be the colour of a fire engine, no doubt about that.

Later, when your heart had calmed and your throat had been soothed with hot chocolate, he'd pulled you out into the rooftop and proceeded to sit you down onto his jacket so that you could gaze out at the cityscape.

"Beautiful," you murmured and took a sip of your drink, allowing the warmth to spread through your limbs. Spring weather was ambiguous that way; sometimes cold, sometimes bearable.

"Y/N."

"Hm?"

Changbin took a sip of his beer, "is there anything you'd like to do?"

"What do you mea--"

It dawned on you then. Oh.

"I don't know. I haven't really thought about it."

He angled his head towards you, "will you tell me?"

A smile graced your features, though you hoped he didn't notice how it didn't reach your eyes, "sure."

All you wanted though, all your yearned for, was for him.

Not that you'd ever tell him that.

A little later during that same week, you had taken the chance to ask him about the girl he loved. He'd brought you over to the Han River to show you how to skateboard and as you sat in the grass admiring the sun setting over the horizon, you decided to buckle up the courage and blurt out what was haunting your mind for days on end.

"What's her name?"

"Huh?" Changbin had looked at you like you'd really gone crazy then, before you prompted him with, "the girl you like. What's her name?"

He tried not to squirm in embarrassment, and failed as he averted his eyes, "i don't like her," you heard him mumble under his breath, "I just think she's cute."

"Yeah yeah. What's her name?"

"Why should I tell you?" He threw you a scowl, "so that you can make fun of me?"

"It's one of the things on my list."

"What list?"

"List of things I want to do," you propped your chin into your hands and grinned teasingly, "and that's asking you about the girl you like."

He let out an annoyed sigh, "Yoreum."

"Wah, pretty name. What's she like?"

"I don't want to talk about her."

"Why not?" You pouted, "I'll cheer you on even in spirit."

"Don't," he snapped back so suddenly, "talk like that."

Blinking at his sudden change in demeanour, you decided it was wiser to drop the subject altogether, lest it agitated him more. Changbin was known for his moody temperament but he'd been quite generous with you these past few weeks. Maybe because he knew that there was going to be an end. The thought caused another ache to reverberate through your chest and you looked away, not knowing on which foot to dance on for the rest of the night.

As you were walking back home, you felt his eyes constantly glance at the way you kept on blowing air into your hands,  "you cold?"

"Huh? Oh no, I--"

Too late, for his hand reached out to engulf yours, bringing it over to stuff it in his jacket. You stared at him for a full minute as your heart skipped a beat. What...was that?

It was cold. That's why. He was just trying to be a gentleman, your brain kept on reasoning with you. 

Your heart though, was saying otherwise. Maybe he likes you! Maybe he’s realized that--

You coughed. Once, twice. And then, you were falling to your knees as petals fell onto your shirt and dropped stained your clothes, your lap. Everything. Metallic rust engulfed your nose and you gratefully accepted the tissue that your best friend offered you. 

“You good?” his breath brushed against your cheek, concerned orbs ablaze. 

You wished you could get over him. You wished you could steer your heart away.

You nodded weakly, wiping away the remnants of blood and wishing that you could die right then and there from the embarrassment of being so openly weak and disgusting when he was around. 

But he merely grabbed the tissue from your hold and proceeded to wipe away at the corner of your lips. Your heart tugged in your chest, relishing in his gentle touches as you allowed yourself to bask in his attention. Even for a little while.

There was no way you could forget Seo Changbin. Even if you tried.

-----

"How are you really?” 

You rolled your eyes, a smile dancing across your lips as you exited the library with Chan in tow, “you’re such a worry-wuss.” 

“Hey, I’m asking out of concern,” Chan chides in that fatherly manner of his that always made you feel safe somehow, “I never see you around anymore because Changbin steals you away.” 

“Aw, don’t be jealous,” you reached out to ruffle his hair before he had the chance to duck away, “you’re still my secret favourite. But don’t tell Changbin that. Otherwise he’ll just sulk for days.” 

“You make it sound so tempting,” Chan wriggles his brows in a teasing manner while you strode towards the parking lot. It was a late Friday evening and you had planned to meet up at the nearest Burger joint with Changbin and some of the other boys whom you hadn’t seen in a while and it was no surprise that you had decided to take advantage of Chan a your driver for the night. 

“Who else is coming with us?” 

“Changbin said he’d come but you know how he is,” Chan re-adjusted his backpack over his shoulder, “maybe we should call him if he doesn’t show up by the time we get to the car.” 

Evidently, there was no sign of the said raven-haired man as you walked up to Chan’s red Mazda. That prompted you to call him, only to turn and spot his figure by the main flight of stairs with the girl you now knew as Yoreum.

You waited for that ache. For that burning sensation like alcohol was slipping down your throat, hands clenching around your phone. 

The pain was there, you could feel it under your tongue.

But you didn’t cough. Nothing pushed at the back of your trachea.

You blinked, perplexed for a moment. Maybe this wasn’t Yoreum after all? 

Or maybe Changbin was forcing himself to suppress his feelings. For your sake? 

That wouldn’t make sense. Changbin had said so himself. He wasn’t the kind of person to be forcing himself into situations. That’s what you loved the most about him, after all.

You tried not to ponder over it too much during dinner, hand unconsciously going to your chest and feeling your heart slowly beating under your clothed chest. Weird, you couldn’t help thinking. Why?

Maybe you were dying. Maybe you were going to die.

Or maybe...just maybe, you were slowly moving on.

Impossible.

"So are you dating her or not?” 

It was one of your friends-- Felix-- who brought you back to reality, blinking before realizing that the question was aimed at none other than the man whom had preoccupied your thoughts over the last hour.

Changbin leaned over, placing his elbows on the table as he sipped his beer, “we’re not dating.” 

“I thought you liked her,” Minho pointed out.

“Can we not talk about this now?” you would’ve missed the way Changbin’s dark orbs flickered over to you if you hadn’t been paying attention. But you did, and that hurt a little bit more than you liked to admit. You loved him, but that didn’t mean that you wanted to know nothing of his personal life either. 

Nevertheless, you decided that keeping your mouth shut would not hurt either, knowing that it might trigger some more coughing on your part. Nobody knew after all, that you were slowly being eaten away by plants growing in-between your lungs.

More oftentimes than not, Chan would urge you to go see a doctor, “just to see what the condition’s like,” he’d press you constantly, “you never know. Maybe it's getting better. Maybe you're getting better."

"There's only one explanation for that, Chan. And that would be that Changbin doesn't love Yoreum anymore," you smiled faintly, "and we both know that's not true."

Still, you couldn't help hoping that your condition was a sign that maybe you still had a chance at life. Part of you was curious as to whether there had been a change in Changbin's heart -- maybe even in yours -- but there was no denying the fact that it would be misplaced, especially in the context.

As you found yourself spending more and more time in Changbin's presence, you couldn't help but wonder whether he was pushing Yoreum aside just to accomodate you, and that thought was enough to make you feel guilty.

"Why don't you invite her?" You asked aloud once, when Changbin dragged you along for some bubble tea in the late hours of the evening. 

He’d stared at you silently for a solid minute. 

"Why would I do that?"

His question threw you off. You shot him a look as the said shop came into view, "isn't it obvious?"

"No."

You stopped in mid-walk, scowled at him, "I don't want you compromising your time."

"I'm not."

"But don't you want to spend time with her?"

At this point, his expression had morphed from confusion to infuriation and if you didn't know better, you'd say he was getting agitated.

He looked away, "I want to spend time with you."

Your heart stuttered, breath suddenly catching in your throat at his blunt statement. You hadn't expected him to be so forward about it, albeit the fact that he was merely speaking in terms of friendship. So you decided to drop the subject for now and kept on pondering it over in your head as you laid to rest that night. Knowing him, those set of words probably didn’t mean much. To you though? It meant everything.

You tried not to let your heart get ahead of yourself.

When it got warm enough, it was Changbin’s idea to drive you up to the coast when you had mentioned that you enjoyed listening to the sound of the ocean waves after a long, hard week. Especially after a long, hard week. It was no surprise that you were touched at his gesture, yet finding it bittersweet how he wasn’t exactly yours to lose even when he was right here, by your side. 

There was something nostalgic about knowing that your days were counted, and while you had been feeling a little bit better these past few days, your questions had been answered by the internet; that this was just the calm before the storm. 

In other words, there was more chance of you dying than living through that rare disease. 

“Say Changbin,” you spoke aloud when you descended from the car, a pack of beer tucked under your arm and a bag of snacks in his while making your way towards the golden beach glimmering in the afternoon sun. 

“Hm?” you felt his dark orbs on your face. 

You kept looking forward, feeling the sand slip through toes in bliss, “thank you,” you murmured, “for doing this.” 

He was quiet for a few seconds. Then, replied, “don’t thank me. You make yourself sound like a charity case.” 

Isn’t that what I am? You couldn’t help but think to yourself with bitterness. Settling over a comfortable spot and curling your knees up to your chest, you gratefully accepted the cold beer that Changbin handed to you -- after he’d cracked it open like the gentleman that he was -- and let out a soft breath, eyes finding solace in the waves lapping up the shore.

“How’s your coughing?” he broke the comfortable silence.

“It’s actually not bad,” you started tracing circles with the tip of your index finger in the sand, the roughness of particles slightly stinging your skin, “I haven’t had a bad spell since that supermarket incident.” 

He hummed in response, took a sip of his beer, but didn’t say anything in response. The comfortable silence washed over you and you allowed yourself to get lost in the feeling of the sun prickling at your skin, at the scent of salt in the air with every wave that brushed forward with the current. 

This was the place to be. For a quiet, waking moment, you could imagine that your life was endless. That you’d live till the very end, die old and wrinkly and with a full stomach. 

Your fingers unconsciously clenched around your beer bottle. If only.

If only.

“I know why,” Changbin suddenly blurted out.

Your head swivelled towards him, eyebrow raised, “huh?” 

“I know why,” he hesitated, “why you’re not coughing as much anymore.” 

Something stirred in your chest as you stared him down, cogs already turning in your brain. What was he getting at? 

“I--” was it your imagination or were his cheeks redder than they had been a few minutes ago? You kept on staring him down as he struggled to find the right words, stumbled over them with the clumsiness of a five year old, “I--I realized something. Ever since.” 

“Ever since?” 

“Ever since you told me you loved me.” 

If he was blushing, then you had flushed the colour of a fire engine. God, why did he have to put it so bluntly? 

“What--”You swallowed thickly while turning away to gulp down some beer, if not to cool yourself down, “what did you realize?” 

And that was when you felt the warmth of his fingers ghost over your chin. He cupped it in his hold, turning your face over so that you had no choice but to clash eyes as he slowly traced over your features with a gaze that seemed to speak volumes. That only caused your confusion to grow by tenfold. 

“What?” You spluttered out, not really used to the closeness of his mouth that was hovering dangerously close. You hadn’t realized that his other hand had trailed down to your side until you felt him pull you a little closer, making your breath hitch slightly.

“Cha--Changbin? What--What are you doing?” You all but squeaked out. This was unknown territory. This was Changbin, and he...

He loved someone else.

So why was he cradling you in his hold as though you were the finest piece of silk that he feared would tear apart with the slightest brusque gesture?

And why, oh why was his orbs swimming with that unidentifiable emotion that made your stomach churn and butterflies to erupt through your middle and tickle at your abdomen? Why was he looking at you like that? Why? 

Your questions were soon interrupted by the sensation of his mouth on yours. 

It was warm, and soft, and tentative, and no sooner did you blink that it was over, leaving you to gape at him like a stupid fish out of the water. Changbin, meanwhile, kept on gazing at you, as if gauging your reaction.

The only thing that managed to make it out of your lips was, “What?”

He allowed his lips to respond in his stead. He kissed your next breath away. And the next. And the next. Until your heart almost leaped out of your chest, until your body felt like it was tingling with electricity all over and until you couldn’t help but kiss back slightly, jumping as he let out a soft noise of approval.

When you pulled apart for air, his dark pupils kept on darting back and forth between your eyes and your open mouth and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think that he was resisting the urge to kiss you once more. 

“Changbin?” you whispered, “please tell me...” tears started brimming through your eyes, “please tell me this isn’t...just because--”

“No,” he looked horrified, “no, no Y/N. Of course not--”

“Then why are you doing this?” you were slowly pulling out of his grasp, reality crashing through you like waves, “why are you giving me hope when--when you love someone else--” 

“But that’s it, Y/N,” Changbin’s hands scrambled to find yours, “I don’t love anyone else. I--I thought I did. Maybe I did, because you wouldn’t have coughed so much if not. But then--Things changed, I don’t know. When you told me you were dying, it--it scared me. It scared me so fucking much, Y/N,” emotion clogged up his throat, eyes turning just as wet as yours. It wasn’t every day that you got to see Changbin without his walls up, “I didn’t--I don’t want to lose you. I tricked myself into believing I was into someone else. But when that--that happened, I--” he shook his head, eyes squeezing shut as though forcing himself to forget the pain etched into memory, “I realized I was just trying to run away from what I really wanted, all along.” 

He brought your hands up slowly to his lips before he pressed a soft, chaste kiss upon your knuckles, “I’m sorry,” he croaked out, “I never wanted to hurt you. Seeing you, so much blood. There was so much blood every time you--” 

He couldn’t help but burst into soft, broken sobs and your heart broke to watch him struggle to catch a hold of himself. Arms winding around him to pull him into your embrace, your hands went to stroke the back fo his head as the man in your arms cried like you’d never seen him cry before. It was a scene that literally tore your heart out and wrenched it sideways; to see Changbin in so much pain that he’d had to hold in whenever he was by your side and seeing you hurt. It pained you, it hurt you. So much so that tears silently cascaded down your cheeks, pressing yourself a little closer to him for comfort.

He calmed down after a while, slowly relaxing into your hold so that you were the one holding him close to your chest as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. The day was long gone, replaced by the evening hues of deep blue mixing in with vivid purple where the sun met the darkening sky, and though there was a slight chill in the air, Changbin’s strong arms looped around your waist did the trick to keep you warm.

“Don’t leave.” 

He called out your name and you hummed in response, awaiting for his next set of words while playing with his hair. The reality of the situation had slowly sunk onto your shoulders when you’d held him in your arms; that he loved you, loved you enough that you had stopped coughing altogether. 

His voice was laced with so much raw pain that your throat clogged up with emotion. 

“I won’t,” you murmured back, knowing that deep in your heart, you’d try your best to keep pushing forward, to keep loving him.

“Promise me,” he nuzzled his nose into your neck, the action causing your heart to flutter. Then, lifting himself up so that he was hovering above you once more, you couldn’t help but admire the way the moonlight bathed the planes of his face. He looked softer, more ethereal in that light.

Your fingers went up, cradling his cheek in your palm, “I promise.” 

And then he kissed you some more; a silent promise, a reassurance, a way to prove to you that he loved you just as much as you loved him, a way to show you that his heart only beat when you were around.

His heart would beat for you, just like yours did.

[mitsukui]

blessed be the mystery of love. | f.w.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader.

Summary: Fred Weasley seems to be a new boy: he has fallen in love, and a couple of unexpected things have come along with it. Apparently, his recently discovered romantic interest has never heard of him, and he is now someone who...writes...love letters?! Well, that is surely weird...

Word Count: 2k.

Warnings: none!

Disclaimer: none of the pictures used in the edit below belong to me; I simply put them together.

A/N: this is probably my favorite so far! I’ve been working on it for such a long time, so I hope you all enjoy it! I’m honestly such a sucker for soft Fred...Please, leave me some feedback if you feel like it! My askbox is open for your opinions, thoughts and requests. Thank you so much for your time and attention ❤

Masterlist!

Dark brown eyes studied your silhouette surreptitiously, which was utterly uncommon for their owner. One who once was daring now hid behind heart-felt walls that looked like you. A flirtatious behavior had been replaced by occasional stuttering and disinterest in other romantic affairs.

People around him could effortlessly notice the situation was taking its toll on him. However, they seemed too dumbfounded by it to say something – words were long gone from their lips, and from his own as well.

Fred Weasley had fallen desperately in love, but you were unaware of his existence.

Somehow, it sounded ironic: how could you not know about him?! Every single soul in Hogwarts knew who he and his twin were, and he enjoyed such a thing. Unlike his slightly younger identical brother, Fred was one to enjoy popularity and attention. He sought fame and recognition, and he would never complain if a few hookups came along with that.

And, yet, there you were – iridescent and untouchable. You were forcefully popping novel thoughts into his mind. Would you ever lay eyes on him? And if you ever did, what would you think and feel?

It was high time you noticed him, and he could only count on himself to make it happen.

Fred desired to make a different approach, one you had not yet seen. His eyes had captured a few other admirers here and there trying to get your heart, but none of them had achieved success. He ought to be the one to do that.

And love letters would most certainly help him get there.

Writing letters was an arduous task, and it consumed all of his energy. His quill scribbled fiercely against fragments of parchment, heavy sighs filled the silence around him, and every inch of his skin burned in longing and embarrassment. George could be easily found doing something like that; but not Fred. He could be found causing mischief or attaching his lips to someone else’s.

Nevertheless, there he was, combining words and allowing the dark paint to splash against the paper in order to pour his heart out.

His first letter was short – hesitant, almost; after all, it was impossible for him to know how you would react to the approach he had chosen. He had put so much effort into it, despite the small number of words and expressed feelings. It was crystal clear you deserved bigger things; even so, that scenario was entirely atypical to him.

He was just as disoriented as you were when a barn owl dropped an almost unimportant-considered envelope right in front of you, interrupting your breakfast in the Great Hall one morning.

He had been eyeing the owl entrances for a little while when he finally was able to spot the one he had previously picked for you. His lips trembled nervously, and his fingers traveled straight up. Lately, he had been developing a habit of biting his fingernails whenever he was anxious, and anxiety was the only emotion possible for that morning.

What if you ended up not liking the note? Maybe you would think he could be a creep or something similar to that. It was unknown whether you had a significant other or not. Were his words good enough? Would you ever look at him like he so lovingly looked at you?

One of your hands curiously reached out for the envelope while the other one briefly fed the owl. You furrowed your eyebrows together as your eyes ran through the lines: it was a tad difficult to read whatever was written on the parchment, given the handwriting was not one of the best. However, you managed to decode the message, and a smile soon spread across your lips. Despite the distance Fred watched you from, the boy could swear that even a small giggle spilled out from your lips.

The small note read something along the lines of:

“To the one who is now devouring my heart.

I mean no harm. My feelings are of pure admiration.

You are gold.

I hold you in my thoughts.

- W.”

The words he had previously written rang in his brain, and he felt ridiculous. He had never had a good relationship with words, writing, or anything related to that. Why on Earth had he chosen to write you a love letter? You were probably laughing at the stupidity that the note was drenched in.

You allowed both your curiosity to dwell in your core and your eyes to analyze the people who crowded the Great Hall that morning. You studied all the possibilities, and you did not notice Fred Weasley. He felt invisible and, for the first time, he enjoyed it.

After that, a second love letter was written. And then a third one, and even a fourth one, too! He grew bold once again, and his secret passion became stronger.

One day, dizzy due to his recently rediscovered boldness, he allowed his quill to dance against the parchment as he wrote you a fifth letter. This one was different from all the previous ones; he still offered you his heart and tried making you realize how much he secretly admired you. But there was something more to it – he sent you something else other than the letter alone.

The arrival of the usual owl in another freezing morning in Hogwarts quickly muffled the chatting and cutlery noises that hovered over every person in the Great Hall. It barely took you one second to smile at the sight, which caused Fred to smile himself – he absolutely adored your smile.

Those anonymous letters had become part of your daily routine, and they were something you eagerly waited for. Being both a Hogwarts student and a teenager at the same time was no easy duty. Your spirit tended to get overwhelmed from time to time, and you found yourself turning to the anonymous letters for an escape from the reality that surrounded you.

However, as soon as you brushed your fingertips against the envelope, you felt an additional weight to it, something that had never been there before. Attempting to waste no time, you reached for the letter, and a smile did not fail to paint your face; it was so easy for him to make you smile, even though you still did not know who he was.

“I must know whatever fills your heart once your eyes reach the very last word in each of my letters.

Would you mind wearing this little thing if you are not bothered by me and my confessions?

It is small and simple, but it is given to you with love.

As always, I hold you in my thoughts.

- W.”

And then, you finally saw it: a tiny decorative pin, which you figured it out as to be put on your robes. It was shaped as a white envelope sealed with a red heart. You disagreed with the words written on the letter, once you did not see it as something simple. It was beautiful. It was your new favorite thing. It was attached to your robes in the flash of an eye. And how it could not be?!

You profoundly enjoyed his secretive actions. For you, it was extremely sweet that someone admired you so much that they chose to sit down and write you comforting and loving words. A pure energy radiated from every single thing he had sent you, and you wished for an identity reveal. You wished to discover whoever your secret admirer was only to confess you also admired them, mostly because of the sweetness existing in their personality.

It was high time you solved this mystery, and you could only count on yourself to make it happen.

When his sixth letter arrived, you had one of your own as well. You did not bother reading his words right away; after all, you had more important things to do. The barn owl was distracted by one of your hands, offering it small pieces of buttered toast, while the other tied the words you had previously written up its leg.

“Can you do this for me?” You whispered gently to the animal standing close to you. As funny as it sounded, you had grown fond of that owl in a way, too. “Take this back to the one who’s been sending you to me, alright? I promise you I won’t peek! I’m asking them to meet me tonight, in Classroom Eleven. Do you think they will come?” An airy chuckle left your lips and you swore your heart was melting at how much attention the owl seemed to be paying to your words. Before it took off, the animal playfully nibbled your fingers and your smile grew wider.

Like promised, you did not allow yourself to look wherever the owl was going to. All of your curiosity was being saved for later that night. There was no way for you to know if he would ever show up, and that hurt your insides a bit. What if it had all been a cruel joke?

The same wonders that once had haunted his brain now haunted yours.

But the night did not cease to fall, and the moon did not cease to shine. It was terribly cold, but your feet still automatically took you to Classroom Eleven, one of the classrooms that were hardly ever used for classes or any other purposes. It was a risky place, given the fact that it was of so easy access. However, you thought the possibility of getting caught was rather exciting. So you entered the classroom, as quietly as you could manage, and you waited.

Fred, on the other hand, could feel his stomach being punched repeatedly by a thousand of invisible hands. He was painfully apprehensive, and one of the signs that revealed that was his constant pacing in a deserted hallway.

He obviously would never stand you up, but the thought of running away popped up in his brain a few times. This was an extremely ridiculous behavior for someone like him. And even though he knew he had to get it done, he was still so intimidated by it all.

“Just rip it off like a band-aid.” The boy whispered to himself, his steps finding a slower pace and his hands being shoved into his pockets. Deep breaths were taken and he was finally able to gather all the courage he needed to walk towards and enter the classroom.

Your body was resting against an empty desk, which it seemed like it had not been used in years. Staring out the window, you secretly wished you had worn something better for that moment; perhaps, your pajamas and a long knitted cardigan over them had not been the best choice.

When you were about to start your seventh mental curse about your idiot choices, hesitant knocks on the door made a mess out of your line of thoughts. They came as a warning that things were about to either go very well or terribly bad.

And, then, a long silence followed. Both of you panicked, each one on a different side of the wooden door. You wondered if you should answer something to the knocks, he wondered if he should have said something. Your body was straightened up, and you suddenly realized your hands were getting slightly sweaty.

He opened the heavy door so slowly that, as you watched it, you could see your life flashing right in front of your eyes.

Finally, you spotted something in the dark. Peeking through the door, your eyes captured the sight of locks of an orange marmalade shaded hair entering the classroom. Right then and there, you felt like everything had just gained a new and brighter light.

You were breathless. The boy timidly standing there, still a bit far away from you, was the most stunning human you had ever seen.

His dark eyes observed you, both curiosity and fear being expressed wordlessly. He attempted to aim a small smile at you, which you gladly accepted and offered him another smile back.

After a few moments of intense stares and exchanged grins, your voice finally cut the comfortable silence that had been set between the two of you.

“The wonders are finally ceased.”

Tag list! ❤️  @efyra​ @writingsomewrongs​ @pineapplesandpinas​ @ronweaselysslut​ @fiction-is-the-new-reality @amourtentiaa​ @emmaev​

[justplainwhump]

#9 for Dany 😈😈

9: strangle my muse

This is not going to be what you expected. More action than whump, and of course really high on the angst. (If you ask me, it's really good)

And Dany surprised me in more ways than one.

Content / warnings: Lady whump, failed escape (?), some red flags of abusive relationships in the beginning, gun violence, strangling; references to dubcon, conditioning and pet whump; strong language (Dany gets emotional)

Ridley Lordin, B and referenced Leo Luciano are @what-a-whump 's wonderful characters and used with permission.

Thank you so much for asking this, @distinctlywhumpthing , because wow, character development.

[Dany Masterpost]

[Prompt list (still taking them for all my characters)]

Scene (1,500 words) under the cut

-

I look fabulous. I don't even need to look at myself in any of the dozens of mirrors decorating the ballroom. He wanted all eyes on me. And he gets what he wants.

Ridley's hand is resting on the back of my neck, fiddling with the thin white leather strap that he has me wear instead of the usual collar. It's somewhat reassuring. It means it's not that kind of a party.

My dress is tasteful, short but not revealing, tailored to fit so perfectly it doesn't matter that it's too white for my pale skin. It's summer. I should be tanned from days spent in the park, on the tennis court, by the sea. That's not what my days are, though. I spend them inside, nowadays, locked up in the bedroom of Ridley's penthouse, and I can earn the privilege of open curtains.

Sometimes, to my own shame, I do.

He presses a kiss against my neck. "Smile, princess", he breathes into my ear, his fingers lingering on my throat for a moment too long. "You know how Daddy likes you."

Pleasant. Pretty. Pliant. Have I ever been anything else, I wonder? Or have I only ever played roles others wanted from me, anyways?

I force my lips to curve into a smile. Of course I do. I'm tired of fighting. Ridley hums contently, before his gaze is caught by something - someone - else, a middle-aged woman in a red pant suit. Governor Hawkins. I know her, I know them all, the rich and powerful, from the events I've attended by my father's side, and I hate how they don't seem to spend a second thought on how I'm suddenly with this man they all must despise.

"I'll be right back, baby girl", Ridley purrs. "Don't move. Bee Bee?" He snaps his fingers. "Come."

B casts me a short glance, as if unwilling to leave me, before his eyes turn flat again and he trots past Ridley, scanning the crowd for potential threats.

I feel oddly uncomfortable around them, alone among hundreds of people. How many of them know? And how many just refuse to see?

A hand on my back makes me flinch. "Danielle", someone says into my hair. "Let's get you out of here."

Instinctively, I pull away and look over the crowd for Ridley. He doesn't like others touching me. Fuck, I don't like anyone touching me.

"Shhh", the man hushes and grabs my arm again, and only now do I turn to look at him. Matthew Carlson. My father's finance guy. There's a deep frown on his face and a pressed urgency in his voice. "We'll get you away from him."

"I-" I am cut off by a hand over my mouth from behind.

"Hurry", Carlson hisses.

An arm closes around me, drags me back through a door to the kitchen. White tiles and metal surfaces, some employees that seem to have been paid to look away. I struggle against the person holding me, try to bite the hand in front of my face, but they seem to know what they're doing, and I don't.

I want to get away from Ridley, I don't want him to see this. I want to be good, and I want to be free.

"Don't fight, Danielle, this is all for your father's best interest", Carlson says behind me. "You're his legacy."

Ridley will kill me for leaving my spot. Somehow Carlson and his man don't make me feel safe at all.

A cool draft brushes past my naked legs, as someone pushes open a door and they guide me outside into some back yard, stumbling down the flight of steps in my high heels. There's another man waiting near some dumpsters, under a flickering lamp. He's dressed entirely in black and looks me down with a cold frown.

Somehow, nobody hurries any more. There's no car waiting to get me away, no explanation, just silence and the damp darkness of a muggy summer night.

I step back towards the back door, but the man behind me doesn't move.

I turn to Carlson and lift my chin. "Please, leave me alone", I say firmly. "I don't know what this is, but I don't want it."

"Hmmm", Carlson hums, and there's a coldness to his tone that lets me shiver. "I bet you won't, but it's too late for that. You're a liability, Danielle. Your... involvement with Lordin, with Luciano, these... videos, they don't make you look good. You weaken your father's position. Or rather, ours, trying to save what is left of it."

"I'm a fucking prisoner", I hiss. "You fucking know what happened to me, because you let this shit happen to my father, and now I'm the one being sold and tortured and paraded around and hurt, while you fuckers think about your business? This is my life, you-"

"It won't be any longer", he cuts me off harshly, and nods to the man behind me. "Sorry, Danielle, it's not personal."

Something wraps around my neck from behind. Thin and soft and raw at the same time. I scream, but all that comes from my lips is a garbled whine.

The man pulls the rope tight and yanks me back. I thrash, my limps flailing uselessly. Desperately, I fight for air, but there's nothing. Nothing but pain and dread and a dawning understanding. I will die. These fuckers are killing me. My fingers cramp around my neck, fingertips brushing over rough rope, unable to grasp it, buried too deep into my skin.

A shadow moves in the corner of my eyes, a blur within a larger blur. I hear a sharp snarl, a muffled impact, a scream, as I tumble back, fall, landing on something soft. Air floods my lungs, and I inhale greedily, my breath coming out in ragged huffs.

"Do not touch her", B growls at my side, and lunges at the other men.

B.

He came for me.

Under me, the black-dressed man is struggling, whining as he grips his hurt arm and struggles against my weight on top of him. Fucking asshole. I clench my teeth and steady my hand with my other arm, as I ram my elbow into his throat. He stills once more.

Something solid is pressed into my back. His gun, tucked under his jacket. Still coughing, I roll over to my side to grab it. Should've just shot me, I think grimly. Stupid gangsters, trying to make a show of everything.

I struggle to get to all fours and cast a glance over to B. Carlson's guard is laying on the ground, unmoving. Carlson himself is down as well, B sitting on his back, wrestling back his arm, growling something low and inaudible, until the arm snaps.

He doesn't see the guard move beside him. A knife flashes in the guard's hand.

I shoot. Once, twice, three times, all aimed steadily at his chest, from a close distance.

Never stop after one shot, Dad has taught me, years ago. You shoot to kill. Make sure they stay dead.

This one is.

The silence after the shots is deafening.

"Oh, princess!", Ridley exclaims behind me, from the kitchen door, his voice perplexed, almost delighted.

Another fit of coughing shakes me, before I turn around, weakly. Ridley is standing in the doorway, upright, his too familiar silhouette framed by light, arms folded, as he is taking in the scene, smug and confident as always.

My eyes are trained on his chest. Carefully, almost tenderly, I lift the gun once more.

A shadow falls over me, blocking Ridley from my view. B. I haven't even heard him move. But he's standing there now, right between my and my target, wordlessly looking down on me from unreadable eyes.

"Please", I breathe. "Please, B." B knows, knows what Ridley does to me, asks of me, of him. He knows he deserves to die.

He doesn't step aside. Instead, he extends an open hand. I hate him. I hate myself. My stomach drops, as I secure the gun and rest it into his hand.

Wordlessly, B steps back and hands the gun to Ridley. "Nice try, baby girl", Ridley mumbles, as he checks the gun. "Wouldn't hurt Daddy now, would you?"

Casually, he steps down the stairs and considers the two men, groaning on the ground, me, kneeling next to them in my now stained white dress.

With his free hand, Ridley gently brushes over the fresh marks on my neck. "Which one did this?", he asks calmly.

I look aside, at the man in the black clothes, and Ridley steps over, lifts the gun, points it right between his eyes.

Another shot rings through the yard.

A strangled sob escapes me.

"B, tie that other guy up", Ridley says, but his eyes are on me. "Leo will deal with him, later."

He gets to his knees in front of me, pulls me into an embrace, the gun still in his hand. I sink against his chest, trembling with silent sobs, each breath hurting in my throat.

I had almost been free. One way or another.

"Shhh, now, baby girl", he whispers, as he gently cradles me against his body. "You're safe with me. I've got you."

[pleasantanathema]

Graves into Gardens | Reiner Braun x Reader | Chapter Six

Chapter Six: Revelations 

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Warnings: Modern AU, spoilers up to season four, slight manga spoilers (only by including characters met later), captivity, mentions of death, violence enemies to lovers, angst, and eventual smut (ohohoho we’re so hot on it now, just wait until the end of this one)

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Thank you so, so much to everyone who has left comments, screamed in reblog tags, and just encouraged me to create this story. I have never felt so much love for a fic in the time I’ve been writing.

This chapter reveals a lot, and it’s a little longer than the rest, but it’s for good reason- the end of this is one of my favorite things I’ve written.

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

        Reiner’s apartment truly wasn’t much. You thought he’d been joking, perhaps was even being humble, but the small studio apartment was quite dismal. The walls were stark white, a few faded posters peeling off the wall from neglect, a couple of medals and trophies lining a small bookshelf that was bursting with paperbacks and notebooks. A simple bed with a royal blue comforter and overstuffed pillows, the most compact L-shaped couch in front of a tv, and a corner dominated by a desk with two monitors and stacks of documents, manila envelopes, and crates of papers crammed below.

        A kitchenet that looked hardly used was tucked away in another corner, the entryway to a small bathroom right near it.

        There was truly nothing worth looking twice at, save a handful of framed photos scattered around. 

        You’d taken it all in rather hurriedly, still out of breath from practically running through snowy alleyways, the developing snowstorm covering the land like fresh linen. There was a window near his bed, which you gravitated toward after kicking off your damp boots by the door. Not much a view, either. Just more desolate, brick buildings and a sorry looking street below.

        He told you once that he didn’t grow up with much, and it unfortunately seemed like despite joining the ranks of the military, he was still left with close to nothing.

        “What are we here for?”

        He was busy toiling with the thermostat, thick fingers mashing against the heat button to try to warm the small box of an apartment.

        “You won’t like it,” he grumbled, golden eyes glancing over to you with a tinge of regret painting his brow.

        “Then why bring me?”

        “Because you need to see it.”

        You tucked your hands under your arms, the chill of the winter’s day finally settling into your bones.

        You watched keenly as he shrugged off his snow laden jacket, hanging it by the door before promptly locking it. He seemed as out of breath as you were, nose red from the cold, hands shaking as he fumbled with his phone. You bit the inside of your cheek with impatience, a small flame of ire licking its way into your chest.

        Bringing you out here could get you killed. He knew that, right? Of course he did, but he did it anyways. Surely this matter of seemingly great importance could’ve been fetched by one of his comrades. You hadn’t quite considered the danger leaving the headquarters could bring upon you until you were dashing through the streets, the heavy paw of Reiner’s hand squeezing around your wrist. At one point in time, he’d shoved you back down another corridor, shielding you with the size of his body as particular caravan of cars turned down the roadway. He seemed to fear any pair of government eyes spying you.

        He always was so careless.

        He was busy texting someone, still standing idle, lip worried between his teeth.

        Must be the girl you ran into that’s giving him a headache. He probably thought he could slip out and back again without a soul noticing, without anyone giving him grievance, but that bright eyed little cousin of his had ruined that. She’d been so excited to see him; he probably hadn’t been to see his family quite a while, seeing that he was on guard duty after his last mission. 

        How many days had it been since you’d been here? You’d honestly lost track of time, your world feeling like it had been caught in a slow turn of molasses. A few seconds could feel like hours, days felt like minutes, every heartbeat felt like it could be your last. You tried to add it all up in your head, eyes closing as you replayed all the events that led to you standing in Reiner Braun’s home in Marley.

        A week and a half, you surmised. But it could be a little more, a little less. You think you would have kept your eyes on the sun a little more acutely, seeing that you’d missed it rise and fall for at least two days when you were bound in that cell.

        “Are you alright?”

        For a moment, you thought you had spoken the words. You were thinking them, but he asked you instead.

        “That’s a loaded question,” you looked back down to the street, catching the sight of a line of what appeared to be school children marching in tandem down the sidewalk, snow in their hair and happiness on their faces, “but for the moment, I’m okay.”

        Reiner pulled his lips to the side, considering your words. Maybe it hadn’t dawned on him that you couldn’t have been in any state of ease since you’d been promptly abducted and plopped down in this new world to navigate.

        “Are you alright?” You encored, observing how his worried thumbs were still fast against the screen.

        “Have I ever been?”

        You made at face at that reply, corners of your mouth turning down while your shoulders shrugged. Fair enough. 

        Though, for the first time, a bit of pity crept into your mind. Reiner didn’t really ask for this life, did he? He was doing whatever he could to get by, fallen rather inelegantly into the position of being sent to Paradis, and was now being handed you to watch over, presumably without his full consent. You were both pawns in this world, kings and rooks dominating the board and playing you both for fools.

        Being a Scout hadn’t been your intention, either. You’d once had other dreams: college, a career, a family, but you’d been grandfathered into the role by your government working parents, and cemented into it when they’d died. You had nothing else to do, so you served. You served your country, your friends, but you also served yourself, using the role to keep your life afloat, even if it sometimes meant spilling the lifeblood of others, even if it meant sacrificing aspirations and settling. Though, you would admit that some rather beautiful things managed to bloom from the barren soil. Regrettably, those had all been left behind, washed away by tides you couldn’t control.

        “I’m sorry,” Reiner grunted, sinking into the cushions of the couch, “she—she already opened her mouth. I’ve gotten Annie to settle things at HQ, but I imagine Chief is still furious.”

        “Is it such a bad thing to take me out here? I mean, you could easily stop me if I tried to run away.” 

        “Could I?”

        You debated his question. While you were quite nimble, you’d be like a rat in a maze trying to find a way out of this god forsaken place.

        “If I let you,” you reasoned, a tinge of humor behind your words.

        He smiled, all warm and soft, full lips parting. The realization that you hadn’t seen him smile in years pummeled into your chest like a heavy hand stealing from your lungs. It made the sorrow that much more palpable.

        “For the record, Zeke is more upset I didn’t ask permission. He’s hellbent on his authority.”

        “So I’ve noticed.”

        You also pinpointed something else of note, a picture glinting on his nightstand catching your attention.

        It resembled the same one you’d seen on Zeke’s desk, only now you could make out the faces. Reiner didn’t pay you any mind as you reached for the framed memory, plucking it from its home, dust from the back of it staining your fingers. 

        A red booth housed five familiar faces, all grinning over half-drank pints of beer. Their arms were interlocked around each other’s shoulders, all the men young and handsome, Reiner and Bertholdt even more youthful than when they’d first walked through the doors of the Scout Office. Then there was Zeke seated next to Porco, the latter in that green jacket you’d seen him in earlier. But your eyes were set on a face you’d never thought you’d see again, a face that possessed the very recesses of your mind, only appearing late at night when you’d see it in corners, catch it lingering behind your eyelids. He was attractive, appeared personable, messy dark hair and distinct brow that matched the boy next to him.

        “Reiner…” you whispered, still unmoving from your spot between the bed and the window pane, “who is this?”

        He peered over his shoulder, any hint of a smile now vanished like etchings being erased from a page.

        “You don’t recognize him?”

        Him, a photo full of faces, and he knew who you were asking about. He’d probably stared too long at the ghost himself. You wondered if he ever placed the frame down at night to sleep better; you would have, if you’d killed someone you cared about.

        “You know I do.”

        Reiner held his hand out, long arm stretched across the back of the couch. You finally talked your feet into moving, shuffling across the hardwood as you placed the offending item into his upturned palm. 

        Then, you sat next to him, your knees bumping together as you tried to analyze the emotions stirring within. You couldn’t quite place any of them—Regret? Fear? Curiosity? Sadness? But they were quelled when Reiner placed his hand on your twitching thigh, pressing that anxiousness away for a moment.

        “Marcel Galliard, Porco’s older brother.”

        Your lips parted, both of your attentions centered on the souvenir held between you.

        “It was his birthday, and we hadn’t had the chance to celebrate mine and Zeke’s yet either, so we all went out for drinks. I unfortunately don’t remember much from that night, but I remember being…happy, content.”

        “Why’d you do it?” you asked it a little quickly, “why would you…save me, not him?”

        “I told you, some things I don’t have a choice about.”

        “But you—you could’ve said he killed me and got away, right? You did have a choice.”

        You saw how his jaw clenched, muscles in his cheek flexing.

        “I don’t know.” Agony lined his voice, the words soft, hushed.

        That situation was something you both thought about far too often than you’d like to admit, a late-night mulling that never led to conversation.

        “I’m sorry.” You took the photo away, placed it face down on the coffee table.

        “Don’t be. We can’t change the past,” he said solemnly. 

        You could, however, lament it. Which is something you did perhaps too often.

━━━─── • ───━━━

         Reiner wasn’t ready for what was to come. He knew he never would be, which is why he threw precaution to the wind and decided to lay his cards on the table now. 

         He had to pick a side. Even if these wars didn’t truly concern him, even if the fate of countries ultimately didn’t matter to his conscious, you did—you mattered, he mattered, and he had to start thinking about things on a smaller scale. 

         He wanted to go back to Paradis. He practically yearned to go back in time, to return to a place where being Eldian didn’t matter, where his status didn’t matter, where he could remake himself into something new. If it hadn’t been for his binds connecting him to Marley, he could’ve actually seen hope instead of sorrow on the horizon. He could never seem to cut the vines, could never actually get away from the people controlling his life. 

         But now, now he saw an out, and it was with you. When this cataclysm first happened, all he wanted was for you to be dead, for you to go away and leave him and his miseries alone to rot and wither. Being with you, however, reminded him of a life he could have. He just had to make it happen, he had to start molding his own clay, had to keep bearing the weight of the world like the weary Atlas until he could find a way to make it turn in his favor.

         He was tired of wishing for death.

         Which is why he had to bring you here and why he would handle the consequences that were waiting in the distance. 

         You might not be very helpful to Marley, but he could be of use to Paradis.

         “I believe you,” he hadn’t noticed he was still touching you, fingers gripping onto your leg like a lifeline, “about Zeke. I believe you because I—we, Pieck, Annie, Bertie—we know he’s up to something beyond what he tells us and the generals. He is working with someone in Paradis. We don’t know who, but we do think we know what for.”

         “Oh my god…oh my god. Why didn’t you—”

         “You think I can just fucking say that when anyone could be outside my door listening?” 

         “I thought you said I wouldn’t like what you have to show me.” 

         He noticed how your shoulders relaxed, like you’d been holding in tension for far too long.

         “That’s not…I have something else for you.”

         He didn’t move just yet, not quite ready to actually set this all in motion.

         This all hinged on you. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew you quite well; of course, that was the you of four years ago. The you he had next to him now was older, scarred, burdened, but he still felt that same magnetic pull to you that he could never explain. He was just a moon consigned to orbit you, to be connected to you even when neither of you desired the attachment.

         He knew you were going to be upset, livid; his skin was already prickled at the thought of how you would possibly punch him if when you read what he had to give.

         At least you always looked pretty when you were angry.

         He could still remember how Jean had cowered undeath his desk when you’d stomped into the office after discovering he’d used the branch’s own money to play in a high-stakes poker game while undercover. He’d been fishing for information on the elites, found himself tipsy, and then found himself on the receiving end of your fury. The only thing that stopped your yelling was Erwin, who, for personal reasons, didn’t want any fuss made over government money being gambled away.

         Erwin. He’d never cared for how close you were to him.

         Reiner finally stood, expecting you to sit and wait, but you were following him like a shadow, small hand wrapped around his forearm as he moved to his computer. When he sat down, that hand moved up to his shoulder, your fingers squeezing into his muscle with encouragement. It didn’t really put him at ease.

         He turned the desktop on, the monitor flashing to life. He typed in his password quickly, then went searching for that folder he’d kept hidden away so he’d never bother to look at it again. 

         “Hand me one of those,” he nodded his head in the direction of a small container of flash drives on the other side of his desk. You plucked one out of its resting spot and went ahead and placed it into the port on the computer. He knew you wouldn’t question why had so many on hand—you both knew how it all worked, you both kept important documents that had to be shuffled around digitally.

         Familiar names lined the inside of the folder, ones he’d once tried to forget. He heard you suck in a quick breath and took a moment to look up at you. Your brow was set, tongue obviously caught between your teeth to keep yourself from saying anything. 

         This was his job. He was in charge of keeping tabs on The Scouts, he was the one who fed Marley all the information they could. Well, almost all of it. 

         “These are files I never gave over. They’re yours now. I never gave Marley everything they wanted I…I thought I was protecting you. There’s also a few files on Zeke that Pieck created in here, too.” 

         You both watched as he copied the folder over to the flash drive, one by one the names and dates slowly dropping into a new safe place for them.

         He touched your waist, signaling you to step back. He rolled his chair out, ducking under the desk for a split moment to gather a box of the printed documents he had actually handed over; the action was a mistake. 

         You were leaned over him in an instant, hand clutching and moving the mouse so quickly it scraped against the desk. He attempted to reach up and stop you, but he paused—there were still bruises on your wrist, on your fingers, faded watercolors of surviving pain. He’d gripped your hand, your wrists, all day, why hadn’t you stopped him?

         He already knew which file you opened; he didn’t need to look. But he did anyways, moving the crate to the side and sitting back in his chair, arms crossed across his chest. His poor heart felt like it was going to burst.

         Marco Bott’s face filled part of the screen, all sweet and freckled like he remembered. Those kind eyes were looking straight at him, judging him. Reiner was just waiting, he knew what was said in there, he wrote it all, still recalled how puffy his eyes were when he did it, how much he regretted it.

         There was a pregnant pause, one so heavy he felt like he was being crushed.

         This all hinged on you. He needed you to help him, needed you to help you.

         “I fucking knew it.”

         He was already flinching, shrinking. He watched the screen scroll, the black letters and white spaces all a blur.

         “Threat eliminated by gunfire, killed by organized crime members after…” you hesitated, eyes dancing as you reread the words, “after his gear was removed to ensure death.”

         He was on his feet before you could hit him, backing away from your clenched fists, chair rolling to be forgotten in the corner.

         “What. Did. You. Do?” 

         Each word came with a step toward him. He was running out of space, nearly tripping over the edge of the couch as you encroached upon him.

         “What did you do?” Your voice was getting louder, pain written across your face like he’d just stabbed you. “You told me there was no fucking truth about Marco!”

         “There isn’t! Marco’s dead, there’s no changing—”

         “There’s no changing the past,” you mocked his words, venom dripping from your tongue.

━━━─── • ───━━━

         Your blood was boiling, wrath itching between your fingers. 

         You were going to kill him. You were going to wind your fists around his neck and watch the life drain slowly from his eyes like he fucking deserved.

         You couldn’t believe you’d let you guard down, that you’d started to trust him. You always knew something had gone awry the night Marco died. He’d been slaughtered, ransacked with bullet holes across his body. It was like he had been dropped into the line of fire, dangled out like a piece of meat to be eaten alive.

         And he didn’t have his gear, that’s what stumped everyone looking into the mess of it all. It was like he had walked in unprepared, like a boy on a suicide mission walking straight to his death. Thirty-six bullets and even more empty, splattered holes littered had riddled his corpse. Jean had fallen to his knees. Connie didn’t speak for a week. Sasha didn’t eat for days.

         Because of Reiner’s decision, that man suffered, you all mourned, and you felt like you most of all had let him down. Marco had been your protégé, you’d taught him everything he knew, and that was the first mission he was allowed to go on after his training. You’d been tailing a rather violent gang, found their hideout, and were infiltrating for arrests and to see what was inside. Marco had been paired with Reiner and Bertholdt to lead the first wave of infiltration, while you and the rest waited for the signal to rush the back doors to the run-down ranch not far out of the city of Trost. They’d been up ahead by the barn that was sandwiched between stables.

         But your signal turned to sounds of gunfire. You could still hear it echoing in your ears as you approached Reiner. The sounds of metal clicking, of repeated blasts from automatic weapons ringing across the hillsides like single note windchimes in a raging storm.

         “Tell me why.”

         Your fingers were digging into his shirt before you could stop yourself, the threads of the worn Henley threatening to rip from your nails sinking into it. You could actually feel his heart beat against his chest, a frightened bird trying to flee his ribcage.

         When he didn’t speak right away, your anger flared, made you shove him back against the wall with all your might. It made your arms hurt, like you’d just slammed your hands against brick, a sharp pain that made you hiss.

         “He overheard us—”

         “Overheard what?”

         You could tell he was getting a little infuriated as well, nostrils flaring as he looked down his nose at you. It must look funny, you pressing him against the wall of his own apartment. Reiner was nearly twice your size—he was bigger than most people, and he towered over you like a looming threat.

         “Let me fucking finish,” he took a deep breath, eyes nearly glazing over, “He overheard Bertie and I talking about how we should relay the details of that gang, of organized crime in general, to Marley. We—we hadn’t had time to talk alone since we’d been prepping that shit for days. We didn’t know Marco followed us around to that side of the rooftop.”

         “That’s it? He heard you whispering little secrets and you killed him for it?”

         One of the buttons near the neckline of his shirt popped as your knuckles dug deeper into the fabric.

         “He literally heard us say that we needed to find a time to call General Magath of Marley. If he lived and told someone that—,” his breath caught for a moment when one of your nails started to pierce his skin, “it would have compromised our entire mission. We’d been there for three years, and he could’ve ruined it all.”

         You were at your breaking point. You could feel that terrible heat that comes with sadness creeping up your neck, snaking around to your cheeks. If you weren’t careful, you were going to cry. All this time, all this time spent wondering why, and this was why he had to die?

         Killing wasn’t unusual in your life. It was part of the job, something you’d unfortunately had to do on a few occasions. You knew those strangers who ate your bullets or your knife had families, that they were people too, but most of them were monsters, thieves, rapists, threats to the corrupted balance of the governmental structure. But Marco…he was like family, and finding his limp, almost unrecognizable body had sent even the most hardened veterans into despair. Levi took off from work the next day; the only time he had ever missed a day on the job.

         “Tell me how!” You truly didn’t mean to scream it, but the emotions raging in your stomach, your chest, it all ached too much. 

         “Be quiet, I have neighbors—”

         “I don’t give a fuck about your god damn neighbors, Reiner!”

         He finally moved then, his once idle hand now jerking up to your face to fiercely hold your cheeks beneath his fingers. You tried to smack his hand away, your own fingers digging and tugging at his wrist.

         “Letme-go!” Your words were jumbled, your open mouth allowing his fingers to press your cheeks in between your teeth.

         “You have to be fucking quiet,” he hissed, a whole new light shining in his eyes, a familiar rage you had seen when you’d fought against him the day Paradis was invaded. The reality of how large he was sunk in again; he looked like a vengeful god peering down at you, all hot-blooded and incensed.

         You thought for a moment he wouldn’t hurt you, but then you remembered he already had. He had the inclination to be just as cruel as you could be.

         His fingers stayed firm against your cheeks, holding you like he was daring you to speak again. 

         “Tellmehow,” you managed to spit out, wincing when he took the leverage he had on your face and used it to shove you back. You stumbled, banging into the side of the couch as you rubbed at the sore flesh of your mouth.

         But he was unmoving, back straight against the wall, a statue built on the foundation of wrath and agony, waiting to crack and fall onto you if you made the wrong move.

         “We knew their guards were patrolling. Bertholdt covered his mouth while I stripped him of his equipment, of his guns, and I pushed him off the roof and into their sight.”

         He said it so calmly that it made you sick. But that was a reality he had to live with every day, wasn’t it? He had to replay in his mind over and over again that he had done such a vile thing, he had to justify it else it would eat him alive.

         Your tears were hot, but contained, your lashes blinking them aside as you just stared at him. You opened your mouth to scream at him, you were so ready to spew hatred and let it burn him, but he was quicker than you. 

         With one step, he was on you, your hair wrapped in his fast as he wrenched your head to the side, smarting your scalp to silence you.

         “Marco’s dead, and I’m sorry for it. You fucking screaming will do nothing but have the assholes who live below me calling the authorities and you’ll find yourself in a much worse prison than before.”

         You didn’t like how he was right. Still, you glared up at him, brows pinched together in pain.

         It felt like you’d merged into him, those rapid hearts within your chests suddenly beating as one with the same suffering, the same torment. You both had to live with the poor reality of your lives; you were killers, you were monsters too. 

         You were too close to him, could smell the heat of his skin, could feel his breath against your sore cheeks. Your hands were flat against his chest, trapped between you, his arm an anchor as it tugged at the roots of your hair, keeping your face turned towards his.

         You couldn’t help but look at him, there was nowhere else to focus, only on him. It was like you could see the pages of a book open across his face, wretchedness and anguish painted in broad strokes in the fair wrinkles around his eyes, in the curve of his brow. It was beauty and pain bleeding together, the amber color of his eyes swirling as he searched your own face like he was looking for something. What would he find hidden behind your own grief?

         “I hate you,” you whispered, breath long gone.

         “I know.”

         “And I’ll never forgive you.”

         It was like he was moving closer, the time you were losing now completely stopped, frozen between your bodies.

         “Don’t want forgiveness,” he caught your whisper and gave it back, “just judgement.”

         His lips met yours with a bruising fervor. 

         The hand in your hair flexed, pulled you closer, made you gasp as your hands slid up his chest. Your fingers found his rumbling throat, and in the back of your mind, you recalled how just moments ago you were waiting to snatch the life from his neck. You felt his pulse beating beneath your thumb, a war drum beating hot and fast in his veins. Your mouth was moving against his, eyes closed, suddenly greedy and hungry; for what, you didn’t know. All you did know was that this felt so wrong, like you’d taken a misstep and landed right into the lion’s lap, but that it also felt like absolution, like he was devouring your sins and taking them for his own.

         Your mouth slanted for him, a hum resounding from both your throats as you fell into this new, strange rhythm. You’d thought about it before, kissing him like this, feeling those plush lips against yours, angry and hot and needy. You cherished the taste of him, like a dark, rich wine filling up your mouth, spilling over and enveloping your senses. Your tongue tempted him to open his lips, to let you in. There was no hesitation. 

         His other hand found your hip, fingers mean and pulling you impossibly closer. Your palms drifted up from his neck, found his face, thumbs smoothing over cheekbones. You could feel the soft hairs of his cheeks, his chin, sweeping against your skin. It all felt too good, like you were getting lost, delirium taking over. Nothing else mattered anymore, just the gratification of tasting his emotions, of taking his groans into your mouth and echoing them back. You pressed harder into him, kept your tongue tangled with his, noses brushing as you found new beats to your rhythm. 

         It was wicked, sinful, something your heart was pleading for and your mind screaming out against. But you couldn’t stop. You didn’t stop. It was as if you kissed for as long as you’d known each other. Every year passed by, every regret, every sharp turn of your tongues against one another, all the hurt and longing, placed into one moment of your bodies finding one another.

         When the heat began to die, you were both still stroking the flames, deep, languid kisses turned into smaller presses of your lips against one another. It was intoxicating and you felt so drunk, so, so drunk off of him.

         There was a stillness between you, like the gentle sigh and breaths of the world as it awoke to the morning sun when you finally stopped. A lulling peacefulness lingered in the wake of what you’d done.

         His hands were still on your body, in your hair, looser now. Yours were still on his face when your eyes fluttered open.

         “I’m sorry,” he murmured, lips plump, wet.

          “I know.”

Next Chapter

[nessinborderland]

Be Mine (09)

Pairing: Niragi x Reader / Chishiya x Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Omegaverse

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: You were able to stay unbounded throughout your life. You didn’t want an Alpha; you didn’t need one. You would rather die than to give yourself to some random male. But the man that saved your life thinks differently.

Warnings: Alpha/Omega, Dubious Consent, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Finger fucking, Rough Sex, Rough Kissing, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breeding, Pregnancy Kink, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Drama, Developing Relationship, Past Abuse, Scars, Death, Blood and Gore, Animal Death, Trauma, Bath Sex, Blood and Injury, Oral Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Feelings

Notes: Here it is, the so awaited bonding chapter! A lot of you will probably be disappointed with the result, but I personally love it. Also, I have decided to write "What if reader bonded with X" when I finish this fic, so fear not. Also, would like to thank everyone that has left a heart, comment or reblog; ya'll mean a lot to me. Yes, even you, silent readers <3 Hope you enjoy :)

AO3 Link        Masterlist

You wake up to burning pain. 

It's so unbelievably painful that you almost fall off the bed as you struggle to stay still. This is so much stronger than any other heat you've had before. This is agony. Your hand is at your core before you're even fully conscious, fingers already inside as you try to ease some of the pain. It does nothing but add to the burning sensation.

You take a deep breath, cunt squeezing around your own fingers when you smell him. You open your eyes to look at Niragi, still unconscious beside you. He gives out such an alluring and delicious scent that you feel yourself both salivating and getting wetter. You're on top of him in seconds; you need him inside you as soon as possible, you need him to knot in you, to bond with you.

No. What are you doing? He's unconscious. You can't.

Is with a huge amount of struggle that you're able to step away from his sleeping form. You stumble to the bathroom, turning the shower on as you rip your clothes off you. You're so unbelievably hot that it almost feels like you're on fire. The kind of fire that only an Alpha can pull out.

You scream when the cold water hits your burning skin, but keep yourself under its stream. You need to control yourself, you need to get some illusion of power over you. You can’t let it take over you. You can’t let it consume you. 

But it hurts so much.

You fall to your knees as you go back to touching yourself, legs open as you thrust three fingers inside you, the other hand rubbing your clit. But it does nothing to help, and you almost sob from desperation. You need something, someone, that can make it stop.

Chishiya.

He's an Alpha, and he's conscious. He can help you.

No.

If you go to him you'll be bonded and then there's nothing you can do. That's what you keep saying to yourself over and over and over. You can't bond with him, but part of you wishes that he would just burst through Niragi's bedroom door.

The other is terrified that he will. 

Time goes by where you do nothing but cry and masturbate, forcing yourself to stay still and not do anything that you’ll regret later. It’s a constant fight with your wolf, and she’s desperate to win the war. It’s so unbelievably painful that you keep standing up to go find Chishiya or, even worse, just take Niragi’s unconscious body. But you hold on; you have to, for as long as it takes.

You smell him before you see him. His scent alone makes you moan. You stare wide-eyed at the bathroom door, jumping to your feet when it opens.

Chishiya stands there.

He looks the most out of control you have ever seen him. Wide yellow eyes, pupils so big they almost look black; body shaking uncontrollably, sweat sticking hair to his face and neck; shirtless, a visible bulge in his swim shorts.

He looks like everything you’ve ever wanted.

He throws himself at you before either of you can say anything, kissing and rubbing his crotch against your core as he presses you against the shower tiles. You let him, arms pulling him closer. He feels so good, so right, exactly what you need. Your wolf trembles with anticipation.

"Alpha... Alpha…" you beg, licking his neck. He feels so good against you. You need more. You need him to ravish you, to consume you, to make you his. "Please, Alpha, it hurts." 

When he finally thrusts inside you, it feels like bliss. It's such a fantastic sensation that you feel yourself coming immediately, cunt clenching around him as you scream his name. That doesn't stop his ruthless shoves, cock stretching you and filling you to the brim as he mates you under the cold stream of water. His teeth graze your neck and you shiver, moaning his name as he keeps fucking you through your orgasm. You beg him to bite you, to mark you, but his teeth never break the skin. His mouth goes to your ear, biting the earlobe with a light chuckle.

“I told you I was going to–”

And then he falls to the ground, almost taking you with him. You look up to see Niragi, gun in hand as he stares at you. He still looks pale, but there’s a feverish, animal-like look in his eyes that makes you gasp and squeeze your thighs together. He points the gun at Chishiya, before turning it around and hitting the other man's skull, time and time again. He only stops when you throw yourself at him, wet body pressed against his, hands pulling his head down for a kiss. He drops the gun then, arms going around you as he takes you to the bed. You say his name over and over, begging him to fill you.

And he does.

Oh, he does. If Chishiya felt unbelievably amazing, Niragi feels out of this world. 

You fall on the bed in a mess of tangled limbs, his body on top of yours as he enters you. You whine against his mouth, chanting his name as he thrusts in and out of you at a pace he never used before. Your arms and legs surround him, pulling him closer, deeper. You want him to take you, all of you. He moans in unison with you, kissing you as roughly as he fucks you. 

“Mine...mine...mine,” he repeats in time with his thrusts. His hands grip your thighs, folding you in half as he shoves himself in you, over and over. You’re coming not long after, lips on his neck as you beg again to be bitten, to be marked. He doesn’t slow down his pace, keeping it hard and fast.

You yelp when he suddenly stops, turning you on your belly and shoving himself back inside you. His pelvis slaps against your ass with each shove, making you see stars as the new position allows him to fuck you deeper. You feel so full, so unbelievably filled to the brim. You want more. You tilt your hips further up, allowing him to go so deep inside you that it hurts. But you enjoy the pain, enjoy the stretch, enjoy everything your Alpha is giving you.

One of the hands gripping your hips slides up your back with surprising carefulness, fingertips barely touching your scars. You gasp when that hand goes around your neck with barely any pressure, before pulling you flat against his chest. He doesn’t stop fucking you even then, mouth now glued to your neck and marking spot.

Then it happens.

You can’t contain the gasping moan that leaves your body when his sharp fangs break the skin at the base of your neck. It’s like you go blind for a moment, and you can’t feel anything but him. In your body, in your mind, in your soul. All around you, there’s him; nothing else matters.

You can’t really describe what happens next.

It’s like you’re him. But he’s also you. You’re one and the same. Your mind is stormed with emotions, memories, and thoughts that are not your own. Is nothing like the first time he bit you. Before, it was like you got a small taste of what he was feeling at the moment. But this is like... your souls are connected. His fears, his pain, his happy moments, his regrets, his mistakes. The good and the bad; they’re not a secret to you anymore. What was once a sealed diary is now an open book. You feel like laughing, screaming, and crying, all at the same time.

You hear his surprised gasp as he undoubtedly feels what you feel, your memories going through his mind like a slideshow. You let him take over your soul, and he lets you take over his. There’s nothing to be afraid of anymore; no one will be able to understand you as much as he does, and the same applies to him.

No more secrets.

Then you feel it; the knot. Your first reaction is to try to move away from the odd stretching sensation inside you, but Niragi’s hands force you to stay still, a growl forming in his chest as he sinks his teeth further into your skin. So you freeze, gripping his hair as he knots in you. It’s a mix of pain and pleasure; you want to make him stop as much as you want to tell him to keep going. He stays still as he keeps filling you up with cum, the swollen knot at the base of his cock making it impossible for any of it to go to waste.

“You’re mine now,” he says with a grunt, “My Omega.”

And then you're both collapsing on the bed, gasping for breath. His arms hug you as he rolls to the side, making you wince as he pulls you with him. You lay there, his heartbeat in your ear, his warmth all around you, and his knot inside you.

Is bliss. Is what you were born to do. Everything is as it should be.

“I wonder what would happen if I killed you right now and took her for myself…” Chishiya’s voice makes both of you freeze. 

Niragi’s arms tighten around you, and he growls a warning as Chishiya gets in your line of sight. He’s dressed in his swim shorts again, white hair wet with water and blood, as he lazily walks to your side of the bed. In his hand, there’s Niragi’s sniper rifle.

“Get out!” Niragi orders. Chishiya makes no mention of it, ignoring the man as he crouches, locking eyes with your mate before looking at you. You can’t exactly decipher his expression; he doesn’t look mad or disappointed. He looks...curious?

“So,” he says in a soft tone that makes your stomach curl with uneasiness. “What does it feel like to be bonded for life?”

“Give me five minutes and I’ll let you know,” Niragi says, fangs exposed. He tries to move, stopping immediately as you cry out from the pain; you’re still connected, after all. You gasp when Chishiya stands straight, pointing the gun in the other man’s direction. You close your eyes as Niragi covers your head, expecting a gunshot. However, nothing happens. “You better fucking leave, or I swear I’m going to kill you as soon as I’m able to,” Niragi says through gritted teeth. You can feel his fear, his rage, his almost desperation to keep you safe when someone else clearly has the upper hand.

You open your eyes when Chishiya huffs out a laugh. His expression doesn’t change as he leans the gun against the bedside table before going back to his previously crouching position.

“Do you know what happens with Omegas after a broken bond?” he asks. Not to you; he almost acts like you’re not there. “They go insane.” he says, a smirk pulling at his lips, “The pain of losing their Alpha is so unbearable that most of them commit suicide. That or they become an outcast, more beast than human.”

Even mentioning broken bonds is considered taboo; it’s not something that any wolf talks about like it’s nothing. The mere thought of it makes you want to scream. And here he is, an Alpha, mentioning it like he’s talking about the weather. The threat is clear to you and Niragi, though. Very clear.

You wonder for a moment if he’s insane. 

“Stop the games, Chishiya.” you gulp when his eyes lock on you, something flashing in the yellow of his iris, “Please, just...go away.". He leans his head to the side like he’s analyzing you, before standing up again.

“I just want you to keep in mind that bonding with a broken Omega would be more of a burden to me than anything,” he says with a shrug, walking towards the door, “That doesn’t mean I won’t try it, though.” he says over his shoulder, “We’ll see. Enjoy your honeymoon.” 

When he finally leaves is like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. You release the breath you didn’t even know you were holding, squeezing Niragi’s hand in yours and he kisses your neck.

“He’s not going to hurt you,” he promises in your ear. Horrible thoughts of losing your mate immediately take over your mind. You don’t know what you can expect from Chishiya; not really. He’s an enigma, and it scares you. Would he be capable of committing such an atrocity? You have little doubt about it.

This is the Borderlands; who’s going to stop him?

“I don’t worry about me…” you whisper, turning your head to look him in the eyes. You cradle his cheek, and he kisses your palm. “I don’t think he makes threats in vain.”

Niragi sighs. “That’s not something I want you to worry about,” he says. You don’t say anything; you don’t have anything to say. So you kiss him, lips hungry against his.

The kiss escalates to a point where you don’t even notice that the knot disappeared, moaning in his mouth as he moves again in and out of you. He fucks you much slower but with as much passion as before. You can’t even call it fucking; mating just feels like something else entirely. It’s a sensation that both you and your wolf crave to experience, again and again, until he’s knotted inside you, your name on his lips.

And that’s what you do countless times; until day turns into night and you’re both so tired that even keeping your eyes open feels like a Herculean task. So you sleep in each other’s arms, with no more pain or doubt inside you; not the usual one, at least.

Your rational side knows that this is far from being a fairy tale; it’s not even a romance. But that is not something that you’re willing to think about, right now.

For now, you can pretend that you’re madly in love with a good man, in a country that is not going to kill you, with people that don’t concern you.

For now, you can lie to yourself.

Next Chapter

[jenn-collins]

And here’s the second part before they both get posted to AO3 as a oneshot:

“So here’s how it’s going to go,” Tony said, arm bent at the elbow as he leaned against the doorframe of her quarters in the tower.

She grabbed his collar in both of her hands, tugging him inside and he looked around once before closing the door behind him.

“You can come to the mansion to ensure your privacy. No one’s going to come after me if I do it there, right?”

“No. I don’t think.”

“Good.” He nodded. “I’ve equipped JARVIS to assist, however there will be a S.H.I.E.L.D. surgeon on call in the immediate vicinity should a life threatening emergency occur.”

She looked up at him, her hands still on his shirt.

“She can wait upstairs, you’ll never even have to see her. And more importantly, she’ll never see you,” he clarified.

Natasha swallowed hard, her throat thick with emotion. “You’re going to do it?” she asked quietly.

“I’m going to do it,” he replied softly.

A tight half-smile formed at the corner of her mouth and she let go of his shirt long enough to reach up and fling her arms around his neck, ducking her head into him.

He carefully wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close for a moment. “We’d better get going,” he said gently. “Jet’s waiting outside.”

XXXXX

She followed him into the side entrance of his garage, her brows narrowing as she wondered why she’d never noticed that there was a side entrance into the place before.

The lights were already turned on in the back half that made up his lab, with the ballast directly above the counter in the center on the brightest setting. Her mouth quirked up when she noticed his robots clearing the space.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Tony said, gesturing around his workshop.”Don’t mind them. They’re just sterilizing the equipment.”

She silently noted the calm and confident demeanor he projected as he moved about his space, a stark contrast to the nervousness he’d shown when she’d first approached him with her problem.

“Sir, your second guest is arriving,” JARVIS informed him.

Tony nodded. “That’ll be the S.H.I.E.L.D. surgeon.” He turned to Natasha. “Did you change your mind about letting a pro do it?”

She shook her head, her eyes trained on his.

“I figured. Hold on a second, I’m going to talk to her upstairs and show her to her office for the next few hours.”

He gave her a forced smile. “I always thought the circumstances would be way different when I finally said this to you, but why don’t you take your clothes off and lay down?”

She silently watched him go up the stairs, only turning her head away when she couldn’t see him anymore and focusing her attention on the low whirring sounds coming from the console. She could smell the antiseptic as the robots meticulously cleaned the counter and the tools on the small table that had been set aside for the procedure.

Then she undressed slowly, arranging her clothing in a neat pile on the couch in the center of the room one garment at a time until she was left in her black sports bra and matching boyshort panties.

She scooted up on the counter the robots had cleared, her eyes sweeping over the table to get a closer look at the makeshift medical supplies he’d selected.

“Good?” He asked quietly from his perch at the bottom of the stairs, his hands gripping the banister as he peered at her.

She nodded. “Looks like you did your homework.”

“JARVIS, lock down the workshop,” he commanded, pulling on a pair of nitrile gloves as he approached.

“I’m on it, sir.”

“Any last words?” He teased, holding up an uncapped marker.

“Funny,” she said dryly, leaning back on the counter.

“Relax,” he murmured, but she couldn’t tell if he was saying to her or himself.

He spread a gloved hand over her stomach, pressing down and holding her steady while the other hand drew a meticulous line to mark the spot where he’d make the incision.

She kept her eyes trained on his face, tongue peeking out from between his teeth as he worked. His hand on her skin went a surprisingly long way in soothing the nerves she wouldn’t let herself admit she was feeling.

His eyes met hers and he offered her a soft smile. “Ready?”

She wordlessly nodded again.

“JARVIS, stay with me buddy,” she heard him say. The slight uncertain tone to his voice betrayed the steadiness and confidence in his fingers, but for some reason it made her feel better. She distantly heard JARVIS’s voice, but she didn’t make out the response.

XXXXX

“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.”

Her eyelids slowly fluttered open into the harsh light and she turned her head to find Tony close by, his hand holding hers tightly.

“Oh, thank God,” he muttered quietly, clearly thinking he’d only been saying it to himself.

“Hi,” she managed once she could make her throat work.

“Hi,” he said softly, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiled somewhat proudly.

“It’s done?” she asked a little groggily.

“It’s done.” He reached to help her sit. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.” She looked down to admire his handiwork, finding perfectly precise stitches binding an incision that was much shorter than she’d anticipated.

“Should fade completely with proper care,” he said with pride still edging his voice. “Otherwise it’ll just match the other side,” he added, gesturing to the small scar a couple of inches to the left of her belly button.

“A souvenir from a mission gone wrong,” she explained.

He nodded. “Well, hopefully that won’t happen this time. And you didn’t think I could do it.”

She raised her eyebrows. “That was you,” she pointed out.

“Right.” He gestured with his head over to the table. “I’ve got a topical antibacterial for when you clean it, but the doc also recommended an antibiotic injection to flush out any potential infection on the inside before she left. Wanted to wait for you to be conscious so I could ask.”

“You cut me open with a razor, but you were afraid to stick a needle in me?”

He slid over to the table, producing a small pamphlet and handing it to her. “Easy, feisty pants. You’re not allergic to any of those things, are you?”

She read over the ingredients, shaking her head.

“Then sit up a little straighter. It goes in your side,” he said, slowly filling a syringe. “Do you want to do it?”

“You can,” she said, bracing herself on her hands.

“Okay. C’mere,” he murmured, carefully and gently administering the antibiotic.

“You really do think of everything,” she murmured admiringly as he depressed the plunger and the needle pierced her skin.

“Isn’t that why you came to me?” He asked, looking up at her.

“Yeah,” she said softly, meeting his gaze. “That and….”

“And what?” He asked quietly.

She shook her head. “I don’t… I don’t know.”

They sat looking into each other’s eyes for a moment until Tony rose up from his perch on his chair and scooped her up in his arms, lifting her from the table with one arm around her waist and the other under her knees.

“What are you doing?” She asked, her arms going around his neck instinctively as he carried her.

“You’re probably going to be a little sore,” he explained, setting her carefully down on her feet. “And you don’t want to put too much strain on those stitches.”

He turned from her abruptly as if suddenly remembering something and reached for the table before turning back to her. “Here,” he said. “What do you want me to do with this?”

Her throat tightened involuntarily when he produced the small chip between his forefinger and thumb, clearly cleaned after being extracted from where it’d spent all those years wedged in her body.

“Destroy it,” she replied, her voice catching.

He narrowed one eye as he regarded her, still holding out the chip. “Hammer? Toss it into the ocean? Have a Hulk step on it? Blowtorch?”

“Blowtorch,” she said.

“Okay.” He moved into the garage part of his workspace, returning a moment later with the tool she didn’t realize she’d actually requested and she laughed.

“You do it,” he said, placing it on the edge of a workbench and holding out the blowtorch.

Her smile faltered. “You can.”

He shook his head, motioning with his hand for her to come over and she took a few tentative steps.

He pulled a pair of safety glasses out one handed and adjusted them on her face, gently smoothing her hair back with his fingers once his hand was free. “Nah, it’ll be much more satisfying if you do it. Come on, just pull the trigger right here.”

She swallowed hard, wordlessly taking the tool from him, her eyes narrowing as she held it away from her and squeezed the trigger.

The chip blasted into a few tiny pieces, most of them melting under the heat.

“Ha!” he said, clapping his hands satisfactorily. “What do you know? You’re a good shot with more than just one weapon.”

She set the tool down and threw her arms around him, ignoring the slight discomfort in her midsection as she leaned up to hug him tightly.

“Thank you,” she whispered into his ear.

“Anytime,” he promised, his strong arms encircling around her waist and pulling her into his body as he hugged her back.

When they broke the embrace, she stood up on her tiptoes, closed her eyes and pressed her lips softly to his cheek in a long, lingering kiss.

She felt him swallow hard, then his breath was warm on her face as she slowly pulled away, opening her eyes to find his lips parted and a vulnerable, slightly dazed expression on his face.

“Tony,” she whispered, suddenly realizing that she was still in her underwear.

He cleared his throat. “Uh, anyway I think you just gave me an idea for an upgrade to the Iron Man suit.”

She raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“Microchips under the skin to attract the armor.”

“Seriously?”

“What? It’s nano-tech. And it can be injected.”

“And you don’t think that’s dangerous?”

He pursed his lips. “You’re really going to talk to me about what’s dangerous now?”

“Um, do you want to take me home?” She asked to change the subject.

“To New York? Actually, I was thinking. Maybe you should just spend the night here tonight. That was I can keep an eye on you, in case you develop an infection, or something.”

She rolled her eyes as she made her way over to the couch and reached for her clothes. “And you don’t think I can handle that on my own?”

“I think friends who pressure friends into doing something dangerous that they’re not exactly comfortable with can at least humor their friend for peace of mind.”

She sighed.

“Come on. I already have a room ready for you upstairs,” he insisted.

She nodded silently, realizing that she wasn’t going to win this one and followed him up the stairs.

“I already called Cap and told him you’re not working this weekend,” he said a little more gently as she peered into the room he’d had prepared.

She had to admit, the plush queen size, rows of pillows and oversized blankets did look inviting.

“How are you doing? Do you want any painkillers?” He asked.

“Not yet,” she said.

“Will you at least let me help clean it and bandage it up before bed?”

“Sure,” she said softly, sitting on the bed and lifting up her shirt.

The small night table was already loaded up with first aid supplies and he reached for some cotton balls, dousing them in rubbing alcohol before gingerly pressing them to her wound.

She winced slightly at the sting, but his hands were gentle and practiced and he knelt down on the floor in front of her, blowing softly on the area to soothe it and sending goosebumps up her side.

“Can I make a friendly observation?” He asked quietly as he covered the stitches with a thin layer of gauze and sealed it with some medical tape.

She nodded, grateful for anything that would make her stop thinking too hard about this hands on her skin.

“You are pretty reckless when it comes to things from your past,” he said softly, his brown eyes wide and caring as he looked up at her.

“I guess you’re right,” she admitted.

He slowly rose up and sat on the bed next to her. “Maybe you could try leaning on your friends a little more often,” he suggested.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, her hand reaching down between them to cover the fresh wound he’d made.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, wrapping his arm protectively around her shoulders. “It’s over.”

“For now,” she said in a low voice.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.

She shook her head. “Can’t we just sit?”

“For now,” he replied, drawing her in closer and resting his cheek against her hair.

She closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to spill as she breathed him in, her body and her emotions raw as he held her.

“Hey, Nat?” He asked after awhile.

“Hmmmm…..?”

“What’s this?” he said.

“What’s what?” She asked, raising her head a little so she could look at him.

He moved the hand that wasn’t full of her hair and pressed his thumb into the tiny arrow charm that sat just above her collar bone.

“Oh… it’s just something I wear for a friend. To keep him close.”

“It’s pretty obvious who that friend is,” Tony muttered.

She raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Are you jealous?” She asked, trying and failing to keep her lips from quirking upwards. “Cause you know that you’re the friend I wanted for this, right?”

He looked back at her. “Most of the time it’s a boyfriend who buys a necklace for his girlfriend,” he said evenly.

She laughed. “It’s never been like that between me and Clint,” she insisted. “It’s just… I don’t know. When I first started at S.H.I.E.L.D., Clint and I were paired on every mission together. Dangerous stuff.”

He gazed back at her skeptically.

“But… after awhile I started to earn my own reputation. And we wouldn’t be paired for everything.” She shrugged her shoulders. “This is my way of reminding myself of him. Kind of like he’s there, even when he’s not.”

“I see. Well, should I buy you a diamond bracelet or something to remind you of me, when I’m not around?”

“It doesn’t really work like that,” she said with a smile. “Besides, I have tonight to remind me of you,” she added, reaching between them and threading her fingers through his.

He squeezed her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing her knuckles softly. “How are you really feeling?” he asked.

“Honestly? It feels  a little weird,” she admitted. “But it’s better with you here.”

He smiled softly, a tired, but genuine smile.

“Tony?”

“Hmmmm?”

“Thank you.”

She grabbed his collar in both of her hands, tugging him inside and he looked around once before closing the door behind him.

“You can come to the mansion to ensure your privacy. I’ve equipped JARVIS to assist, however there will be a S.H.I.E.L.D. surgeon on call in the immediate vicinity should a life threatening emergency occur.”

She looked up at him, her hands still on his shirt.

“She can wait upstairs, you’ll never even have to see her. And more importantly, she’ll never see you,” he clarified.

Natasha swallowed hard, her throat thick with emotion. “You’re going to do it?” she asked quietly.

“I’m going to do it,” he replied softly.

A tight half-smile formed at the corner of her mouth and she let go of his shirt long enough to reach up and fling her arms around his neck, ducking her head into him.

He carefully wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close for a moment. “We’d better get going,” he said gently. “Jet’s waiting outside.”

XXXXX

She followed him into the side entrance of his garage, her brows narrowing as she wondered why she’d never noticed that there was a side entrance into the place before.

The lights were already turned on in the back half that made up his lab, with the ballast directly above the counter in the center on the brightest setting. Her mouth quirked up when she noticed his robots clearing the space.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Tony said, gesturing around his workshop.”Don’t mind them. They’re just sterilizing the equipment.”

She silently noted the calm and confident demeanor he projected as he moved about his space, a stark contrast to the nervousness he’d shown when she’d first approached him with her problem.

“Sir, your second guest is arriving,” JARVIS informed him.

Tony nodded. “That’ll be the S.H.I.E.L.D. surgeon.” He turned to Natasha. “Did you change your mind about letting a pro do it?”

She shook her head, her eyes trained on his.

“I figured. Hold on a second, I’m going to talk to her upstairs and show her to her office for the next few hours.”

He gave her a forced smile. “I always thought the circumstances would be way different when I finally said this to you, but why don’t you take your clothes off and lay down?”

She silently watched him go up the stairs, only turning her head away when she couldn’t see him anymore and focusing her attention on the low whirring sounds coming from the console. She could smell the antiseptic as the robots meticulously cleaned the counter and the tools on the small table that had been set aside for the procedure.

Then she undressed slowly, arranging her clothing in a neat pile on the couch in the center of the room one garment at a time until she was left in her black sports bra and matching boyshort panties.

She scooted up on the counter the robots had cleared, her eyes sweeping over the table to get a closer look at the makeshift medical supplies he’d selected.

“Good?” He asked quietly from his perch at the bottom of the stairs, his hands gripping the banister as he peered at her.

She nodded. “Looks like you did your homework.”

“JARVIS, lock down the workshop,” he commanded, pulling on a pair of nitrile gloves as he approached.

“I’m on it, sir.”

“Any last words?” He teased, holding up an uncapped marker.

“Funny,” she said dryly, leaning back on the counter.

“Relax,” he murmured, but she couldn’t tell if he was saying to her or himself.

He spread a gloved hand over her stomach, pressing down and holding her steady while the other hand drew a meticulous line to mark the spot where he’d make the incision.

She kept her eyes trained on his face, tongue peeking out from between his teeth as he worked. His hand on her skin went a surprisingly long way in soothing the nerves she wouldn’t let herself admit she was feeling.

His eyes met hers and he offered her a soft smile. “Ready?”

She wordlessly nodded again.

“JARVIS, stay with me buddy,” she heard him say. The slight uncertain tone to his voice betrayed the steadiness and confidence in his fingers, but for some reason it made her feel better. She distantly heard JARVIS’s voice, but she didn’t make out the response.

XXXXX

“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.”

Her eyelids slowly fluttered open into the harsh light and she turned her head to find Tony close by, his hand holding hers tightly.

“Oh, thank God,” he muttered quietly, clearly thinking he’d only been saying it to himself.

“Hi,” she managed once she could make her throat work.

“Hi,” he said softly, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiled somewhat proudly.

“It’s done?” she asked a little groggily.

“It’s done.” He reached to help her sit. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.” She looked down to admire his handiwork, finding perfectly precise stitches binding an incision that was much shorter than she’d anticipated.

“Should fade completely with proper care,” he said with pride still edging his voice. “Otherwise it’ll just match the other side,” he added, gesturing to the small scar a couple of inches to the left of her belly button.

“A souvenir from a mission gone wrong,” she explained.

He nodded. “Well, hopefully that won’t happen this time. And you didn’t think I could do it.”

She raised her eyebrows. “That was you,” she pointed out.

“Right.” He gestured with his head over to the table. “I’ve got a topical antibacterial for when you clean it, but the doc also recommended an antibiotic injection to flush out any potential infection on the inside before she left. Wanted to wait for you to be conscious so I could ask.”

“You cut me open with a razor, but you were afraid to stick a needle in me?”

He slid over to the table, producing a small pamphlet and handing it to her. “Easy, feisty pants. You’re not allergic to any of those things, are you?”

She read over the ingredients, shaking her head.

“Then sit up a little straighter. It goes in your side,” he said, slowly filling a syringe. “Do you want to do it?”

“You can,” she said, bracing herself on her hands.

“Okay. C’mere,” he murmured, carefully and gently administering the antibiotic.

“You really do think of everything,” she murmured admiringly as he depressed the plunger and the needle pierced her skin.

“Isn’t that why you came to me?” He asked, looking up at her.

“Yeah,” she said softly, meeting his gaze. “That and….”

“And what?” He asked quietly.

She shook her head. “I don’t… I don’t know.”

They sat looking into each other’s eyes for a moment until Tony rose up from his perch on his chair and scooped her up in his arms, lifting her from the table with one arm around her waist and the other under her knees.

“What are you doing?” She asked, her arms going around his neck instinctively as he carried her.

“You’re probably going to be a little sore,” he explained, setting her carefully down on her feet. “And you don’t want to put too much strain on those stitches.”

He turned from her abruptly as if suddenly remembering something and reached for the table before turning back to her. “Here,” he said. “What do you want me to do with this?”

Her throat tightened involuntarily when he produced the small chip between his forefinger and thumb, clearly cleaned after being extracted from where it’d spent all those years wedged in her body.

“Destroy it,” she replied, her voice catching.

He narrowed one eye as he regarded her, still holding out the chip. “Hammer? Toss it into the ocean? Blowtorch?”

“Blowtorch,” she said.

“Okay.” He moved into the garage part of his workspace, returning a moment later with the tool she didn’t realize she’d actually requested and she laughed.

“You do it,” he said, placing it on the edge of a workbench and holding out the blowtorch.

Her smile faltered. “You can.”

He shook his head, motioning with his hand for her to come over and she took a few tentative steps.

He pulled a pair of safety glasses out one handed and adjusted them on her face, gently smoothing her hair back with his fingers once his hand was free. “Nah, it’ll be much more satisfying if you do it. Come on, just pull the trigger right here.”

She swallowed hard, wordlessly taking the tool from him, her eyes narrowing as she held it away from her and squeezed the trigger.

The chip blasted into a few tiny pieces, most of them melting under the heat.

“Ha!” he said, clapping his hands satisfactorily. “What do you know? You’re a good shot with more than just one weapon.”

She set the tool down and threw her arms around him, ignoring the slight discomfort in her midsection as she leaned up to hug him tightly.

“Thank you,” she whispered into his ear.

“Anytime,” he promised, his strong arms encircling around her waist and pulling her into his body as he hugged her back.

When they broke the embrace, she stood up on her tiptoes, closed her eyes and pressed her lips softly to his cheek in a long, lingering kiss.

She felt him swallow hard, then his breath was warm on her face as she slowly pulled away, opening her eyes to find his lips parted and a vulnerable, slightly dazed expression on his face.

“Tony,” she whispered, suddenly realizing that she was still in her underwear.

He cleared his throat.

“Um, do you want to take me home?” She asked.

“To New York? Actually, I was thinking. Maybe you should just spend the night here tonight. That was I can keep an eye on you, in case you develop an infection, or something.”

She rolled her eyes as she made her way over to the couch and reached for her clothes. “And you don’t think I can handle that on my own?”

“I think friends who pressure friends into doing something dangerous that they’re not exactly comfortable with can at least humor their friend for peace of mind.”

She sighed.

“Come on. I already have a room ready for you upstairs,” he insisted.

She nodded silently, realizing that she wasn’t going to win this one and followed him up the stairs.

“I already called Cap and told him you’re not working this weekend,” he said a little more gently as she peered into the room he’d had prepared.

She had to admit, the plush queen size, rows of pillows and oversized blankets did look inviting.

“How are you doing? Do you want any painkillers?” He asked.

“Not yet,” she said.

“Will you at least let me help clean it and bandage it up before bed?”

“Sure,” she said softly, sitting on the bed and lifting up her shirt.

The small night table was already loaded up with first aid supplies and he reached for some cotton balls, dousing them in rubbing alcohol before gingerly pressing them to her wound.

She winced slightly at the sting, but his hands were gentle and practiced and he knelt down on the floor in front of her, blowing softly on the area to soothe it and sending goosebumps up her side.

“Can I make a friendly observation?” He asked quietly as he covered the stitches with a thin layer of gauze and sealed it with some medical tape.

She nodded, grateful for anything that would make her stop thinking too hard about this hands on her skin.

“You are pretty reckless when it comes to things from your past,” he said softly, his brown eyes wide and caring as he looked up at her.

“I guess you’re right,” she admitted.

He slowly rose up and sat on the bed next to her. “Maybe you could try leaning on your friends a little more often,” he suggested.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, her hand reaching down between them to cover the fresh wound he’d made.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, wrapping his arm protectively around her shoulders. “It’s over.”

“For now,” she said in a low voice.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.

She shook her head. “Can’t we just sit?”

“For now,” he replied, drawing her in closer and resting his cheek against her hair.

She closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to spill as she breathed him in, her body and her emotions raw as he held her.

“Hey, Nat?” He asked after awhile.

“Hmmmm…..?”

“What’s this?” he said.

“What’s what?” She asked, raising her head a little so she could look at him.

He moved the hand that wasn’t full of her hair and pressed his thumb into the tiny arrow charm that sat just above her collar bone.

“Oh… it’s just something I wear for a friend. To keep him close.”

“It’s pretty obvious who that friend is,” Tony muttered.

She raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Are you jealous?” She asked, trying and failing to keep her lips from quirking upwards. “Cause you know that you’re the friend I wanted for this, right?”

He looked back at her. “Most of the time it’s a boyfriend who buys a necklace for his girlfriend,” he said evenly.

She laughed. “It’s never been like that between me and Clint,” she insisted. “It’s just… I don’t know. When I first started at S.H.I.E.L.D., Clint and I were paired on every mission together. Dangerous stuff.”

He gazed back at her skeptically.

“But… after awhile I started to earn my own reputation. And we wouldn’t be paired for everything.” She shrugged her shoulders. “This is my way of reminding myself of him. Kind of like he’s there, even when he’s not.”

“I see. Well, should I buy you a diamond bracelet or something to remind you of me, when I’m not around?”

“It doesn’t really work like that,” she said with a smile. “Besides, I have tonight to remind me of you,” she added, reaching between them and threading her fingers through his.

He squeezed her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing her knuckles softly. “How are you really feeling?” he asked.

“Honestly? It feels  a little weird,” she admitted. “But it’s better with you here.”

He smiled softly, a tired, but genuine smile.

“Tony?”

“Hmmmm?”

“Thank you.”

[joonkorre]

(love) is a heartache

@drarrymicrofic prompt: hope is a heartache - léon

let it be known that harry goes through life purely on vibes. half of his reasons why for every decision at his big age are “idk imma just hope for the best”

ao3

People’s hearts twinge sometimes. For Draco, he can barely remember the last time he doesn’t have these twinges. It’s pretty normal at this point.

“No, it’s not,” Pansy says. She’s a Healer, so she’s probably right. But Draco prefers to ignore that.

“Leave it be,” Draco murmurs, lips against her scalp, “I’m fine. Say, are you free tomorrow?”

“Yeah. You want to go somewhere?”

“Mm. Sleep.”

They go out the next morning, Pansy in thick makeup and Draco practically drunk under nine layers of Charms. The air is a bit humid, which seems to get worse when the bustling street intensifies in volume into a roaring din. Pansy pulls him under an awning, yanking at his sleeve a bit to try out her disgusting sugary coffee. She always does this whenever she wants to take his attention away from something, which means he just has to look at exactly where she’s doesn’t want him to. As his lips wrap around her lipstick-stained straw, he glances up.

Across the street, a couple strolls through a gushing crowd. Fiery red hair, airy laughter, a pale arm wrapped around her fiancé’s waist. Curls of black, sleek spectacles, a protective palm on his fiancee’s shoulder. They make the perfect picture, a vibrant oil painting. Their existence is formed from bold strokes of sunlight and starburst kisses, with the focal point being a shock of phthalo green and cadmium lemon, two minute specks that make all the difference. As all good paintings do, they pin the viewer on the spot, as if the viewer himself is a thing to behold. Then they shift away.

The exhibit moves forward and out of sight. It’s closing time, the viewer has overstayed his welcome.

Something leaps in Draco’s chest and splatters on the floor of his stomach. Placing her hand over his heart, Pansy frowns at him. She doesn’t ask why Potter stared at someone who looked like a stranger to him. Only tells him to start finding answers.

Months later, on the most awaited day in recent Wizarding history, there’s a knock on Draco’s door.

He throws on a sweater, and a throw, too, for good measure. Ambling to the door, he checks the mail slot before peeking through the peephole. Nobody but a package is outside. Draco hums and unlocks his door, crouching down the moment it opens. What feels like soft satin brushes against his cheek, cool and smooth. With a flash, a pair of shiny dress shoes appear before him.

“Draco.”

Draco peers up as he rises, hands around the package. Potter has his maddening Invisibility Cloak slung over his arm, his roguish charm heightened by a perfectly fitted three-piece suit. A tiny posy is pinned on his left lapel, muted green hellebores with a few sprigs of privet berries. He’s dressed like a man in love.

Draco feels something he hasn’t felt in months at the sight. He’s trained himself to suppress it the moment it showed itself and has been relatively successful until now. The sting, without warning, bursts from within his chest, calling forth a slight wince. Potter’s brows furrow.

"How do you know where I live?"

“How long has this been going on?”

Draco frowns. “Pardon?”

“That,” Potter gestures at Draco’s chest. “The heartache.”

He rears back. What the hell is he supposed to say to that? At Potter’s unchanging expression, Draco shoves his hair out of his face with a quiet huff and puts a hand on the doorknob.

“It’s none of your business. Please leave.”

“It is, actually,” Potter stops the closing door with one arm.

“Excuse me? We haven't had a proper conversation in more than a decade and suddenly you want to act like we're friends? Leave, now.”

“Listen to me. How can it not be my business when I feel it, too?”

“Check with a Healer, then. If you can put past grudges aside, I can hand you Pansy Parkinson’s business card,” Draco grits through his teeth, pushing against the door with his entire body, his throw slipping to the ground.

“Draco, stop, I already know, stop.”

“Know what? No, I don't care. Leave at once, else I’d alert the Aurors.”

A rough slam sends Draco staggering back. Potter pants, hard lines on his face. His chest heaves under his crisp white shirt, its top two buttons unclasped, and he steps over the threshold, closing the door.

“You think they’d believe you?”

The pain shoots from his chest to the rest of his body, and for several seconds, his lungs wouldn’t work. He whips his head away from Potter, who groans and sags against the wall.

“I told you to leave.”

“I’m sorry, that was a shitty thing to say,” Potter says immediately, sweat dotting his temples.

After an uncomfortable pause, clearing his throat, he picks up the near-forgotten package from the carpet. His hand feels around the outline of the object within, rectangular and heavy. Glancing at Draco, he says hoarsely. “I know why you bought this book.”

“Know this, know that, you know nothing,” Draco lunges forward, only for Potter to twist out of the way and raise the package out of his reach.

“The Life-long Burden of Dark Curses: A Caution by Elise Arrowlane, limited edition,” he says, unbothered by Draco’s slackened jaw. “You ordered it from the new bookstore on Diagon months ago. You were small and old and grey, but I recognized you. I always could.”

“Okay,” Draco sneers, “so you’re a stalker. Old news. Anything else?”

“There’s no need to order one. I would’ve borrowed it from Hermione if you had only asked,” Potter says. “Instead, I got curious and read it for myself. That’s how I connected the dots about the heartache, how I realized we’ve both had it since that day years ago.”

“Oh, the day you slashed me into ribbons and almost cut through my heart?” Draco clenches his jaw.

Being able to shout this ugly kind of truth into the perpetrator’s face feels oddly liberating. That is, if liberation also comes with a specific kind of agony that makes Draco want to fall to his knees.

“Dark Magic leaves a mark on both the wizard and their victim, doesn’t it? No need for a book to tell us that,” Potter says, the harsh afternoon glow of him gentled by the soft lamplight in Draco’s hallway. “In certain cases, it even leaves a link. A connection.”

Draco bites the inside of his cheek and looks away. The only consequence from that horrid night was his fucked up heart and nothing else, nothing at all. Whatever Potter is insinuating, he hates it. He hates this. He hates him.

“How are you so sure there’s a connection.”

“I wasn’t,” Potter says. “The Healers said it’s a health thing I developed after the War and I just needed to avoid strenuous activity. I didn’t think much of it, but then I read the book and realized that it usually flared up whenever you watched me.”

Scoffing, Draco turns and stalks into the kitchen. Walking past the boiling kettle, he throws a cabinet door open and grabs a mug, his hand trembling.

“Interesting how my health suffers when I see the bastard who quite literally carved me open.”

“I was eating dinner when I thought I was going to die of a heart attack at 23,” Potter continues. Draco pulls the drawers out, unable to find a single bag of tea for several excruciating moments. “The next day, I was reading about your mother’s death on the Daily Prophet. That was the first sign.”

Grabbing a rag and wetting it, Draco wipes the countertop even as he’s just done so last night.

“When Ginny saw you on the street during our date and extended her hand toward you, you shook it. But your heart ached.

“I saw you looking at the picture of Ginny and I kissing on the front page of Witch Weekly. Your hair was brown and your back was curved, but I saw you. Your heart ached.

“When I announced my engagement to her on the Battle of Hogwarts’s 10th Anniversary, you were clapping along with everyone else. But your heart ached.”

Draco throws the rag on the counter. The kettle whistles, a piercing sound. “What’s your point? Are you here purely to flaunt your relationship and imply that I’m in love with Ginevra Weasley? If so, I got it. Thank you so very much, it’s been enlightening. Now get out.”

“The point is,” Potter says, lifting the kettle off the burner to pour it into Draco’s mug, placing his tea bag in, “unless the article about you being gay was wrong, Ginny isn’t the one you’re in love with.”

“What arti—” Draco stops. “That was years ago.”

His sexuality was leaked to some irrelevant gossip rag, not even making the front page. Nobody noticed, nothing changed, and it hasn’t entered his mind in what feels like forever until Potter reminds him.

“I remember.”

“You—” Draco frowns. His eyes strain on the cup of tea until they hurt. He squeezes them shut, sighing. “It doesn’t prove anything. Perhaps I’m jealous of my childhood nemesis having a better life than me, ever thought of that?”

“Yeah,” Potter says, “I’ve thought about this a lot. Which is why I’m here. To make sure.”

Draco takes it in, then, unable to help himself, curls his lips at Potter and his attire. At his artfully gelled hair, his hanging bow tie, the elegant boutonniere on the lapel of his dark blue suit. His empty ring finger.

“Couldn’t you have chosen a better date to make sure? Preferably before your wedding day?”

Potter steps closer. A respectable distance away, but closer.

“I could’ve, but I spent most of those days in denial. Then the dots connected and I couldn’t deny it anymore, so I decided to just go through with the wedding regardless, be with the woman I loved. Hoped that maybe the odd emotions I had would go away,” he shrugs, raising his eyes to meet Draco’s. “Saw Ginny at the end of the aisle and, well, I couldn’t stop thinking that it should’ve been someone else. All this time, I’ve thought that she didn’t feel… right in my arms, but I pushed it down. And there she was in that white dress.

“Seeing that today was the last straw. I had to leave.”

Draco’s breath catches in his throat. Swallowing it down, he grabs his mug, scooping out the tea bag just to have something to do. He takes a sip without blowing, ignoring its scalding heat.

“That was stupid.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Draco can feel a headache building. “That was a horrible decision. I never imagined you—you!—out of all people, could be this irresponsible. What the fuck.”

“You’re right.”

“Of course I am. Merlin, that poor fucking woman. If your purpose here is to make me feel bad for Ginevra and all 300 of her relatives for once in my life, you’ve succeeded, congratulations.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say that to me, say that to—oh, you’d do what you want no matter what I say, wouldn’t you?”

“Depends on the situation.”

“‘Depends on the situation,’ he says,” Draco mocks, getting a carton of milk from the fridge to save his bitter, bitter tea. Potter doesn’t reply. Stirring the milk in, Draco lets out a heavy sigh.

“What do you want me to do about this?” He says. “I didn’t make you run out of your own wedding. If you expect me to take the blame for your inane decisions, the first person I Floo wouldn’t be the Aurors, but Ginevra Weasley herself.”

A small smile graces Potter’s lips. “I don’t expect anything from you but honesty.”

Draco squints.

“And how will you know if what I say is a lie? Will you reject my genuine answer if it’s not what you want to hear?”

“That won’t be a problem,” Potter says. “I trust your heart will speak the truth for us both.”

There’s a pang in Draco’s chest, and judging from the twitch of Potter’s brow, he can feel it too. Not another word is said, the two men merely facing each other from across a tiny kitchen, considering. Draco can feel the warmth of sunlight beaming through the little window and coating his nape as he leans against the sink, earl grey on his tongue. Lovely citric notes of bergamot drift up his nose. He closes his eyes. What to do, what to do.

Weightless oxfords clack against the yellowed tiles, clear and bright in Draco’s ears. Fabric rustles as Potter slips a hand into his pocket only to retrieve it a second later. Draco lets himself be cornered, barely glancing at the wool-clad arms caging either side of his waist. A clink catches his attention, however, and he tilts his head to the left.

Millimeters beside Draco’s hand on the counter, glinting in the sun, is a wedding band. Draco knows Potter and Ginevra’s in and out, has examined the picture on that day’s issue of the Daily Prophet more times than he should have. He knows the marquise droplets of Ginevra’s gems and the chevron curve of her ring, the blankness of Potter’s own band a dream and a question in his mind.

The band that’s resting on the counter is different. Rustic gold and a fissure in the middle, the fertile earth splitting open to reveal a stream of diamonds, a sparkling river. Draco sets his mug to the side and holds the ring up close, his finger smoothing over the grooves of its texture.

“Did you make a stop at a jewelry store before breaking into my home?” He asks.

“No,” Harry murmurs. Draco looks at him in surprise. “I’ve had this with me for months.”

A pause.

“I thought you said you were in denial.”

“I was, but I knew, somewhat, that I wanted someone else,” Harry’s head lowers, slow and careful, until his forehead rests against Draco’s shoulder. “I told myself that I just liked the way it looked, had to get it in case I didn’t want the other ring anymore. But I got it a size smaller. Been carrying it in my pocket ever since.”

Draco’s heart throbs and throbs. Large hands circle his waist, bunching up the back of his sweater and pressing him close, chest to chest. A blanket of pure heat envelops his body as he breathes in the timeless saffron and neroli of cologne, half-lidded eyes pinned on the band he’s given. Oh, dear, he thinks, and again when it settles at the base of his ring finger with ease, as if it belongs there and never left. Oh, dear.

[sfb123]

Sapere Aude - Part 10

Book: The Royal Heir

Pairing: King Liam Rys x Queen Riley Brooks

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Catch Up Here

Series Description: I developed a theory of what I think will happen in TRH Book 4, and I was encouraged by some very lovely people to turn my theory into a fic, so here it is. Basically, Riley is recruited to join the Via Imperii, this series will follow her as she joins them to try and bring them down from the inside, and all of the drama and bombshells she learns along the way. Sapere Aude is Latin for “dare to know” it seemed like an appropriate title.

Rating: PG-13 Adult language, allusions to smut (but nothing graphic), discussions of death, conspiracy, blackmail, and other adult themes.

Warning: The Royal Heir Book 3 Spoilers all over the place.

Disclaimer: I have no current affiliation with any other Via Imperii themed stories. Any claims that I have pre-read anything are false.

Word Count: 2,759

A/N: Sorry for the wait, I’m not going to keep broadcasting my self-loathing bullshit, but I’ve been having a hell of a time in my life. I’m working my way out of it thanks to a stellar support system (shout out @jessiembruno​​ and @txemrn​​ for being the Tumblr pieces to that puzzle). I’m also now up to 3 friends that are pregnant, which means I have 3 baby blankets to knit in the next 6 months, so that’s something that will be taking up a bit of my time. But I promise you more stories are coming, as well as some kind of ending to this story. I’ve hit the awkward place that I’ve feared since I started writing Sapere Aude; where I know where I want it to go, but I’m not quite sure how to get there. I’ll figure it out though, I promise, just bear with me.

As always, big ups to @twinkleallnight​​ for my awesome moodboard!

Tags: My tag list angels are all listed below. Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

It was the day of the Royal Council meeting, Liam and Drake were planning to take this opportunity to work with Olivia in outfitting Riley with a camera or recorder for her next interaction with the Via Imperii. Mara had informed her of an upcoming meeting, which she was going to use as her opportunity. 

Liam was trying to keep his focus on the task at hand, destroying this group, instead of all of the information he had learned about them, and what they had done to him. The thing that made that difficult was the constant reminder of his betrayal and loss, in the form of his brother, who was still charged with guarding Eleanor. He and Bastien had decided that it would be too much of a risk to reassign him, or remove him from the guard entirely. The timing would, no doubt, tip them off that Riley had said something, and he was not about to put that target on his wife’s back. He was hoping he would get used to being around Thomas, but a part of him knew he would not be fully at peace with the situation, at least not without being able to confront him.

He also knew that Olivia was going to need to be brought up to speed. This meant that he would need to go through everything all over again, and he was dreading it. As he stood in front of his mirror, adjusting his tie, he was planning out the best ways to have this conversation. A look of concern clearly etched in his face, Riley noticed it the second she stepped into the room. 

“Hey, you’ve been getting dressed for an awfully long time. Are you doing alright?” She walked up behind him, taking him out of his thoughts. She knew he wasn’t, but he needed to tell her that, the last thing he needed was to feel cornered into talking about things. 

He exhaled deeply before turning and wrapping his arms around Riley’s waist. “Yes, just going over the plan for today.”

“And figuring out how you’re going to get through reliving everything when you tell Olivia what’s going on?” She arched an eyebrow. 

“Am I ever going to be able to get anything past you?” He smiled, placing a hand on her cheek. 

“Nope, never. I can read you like a book, Your Majesty.” She tapped her index finger to his nose, taking a brief pause to enjoy the sound of the soft chuckle that escaped him. “Maybe I can help. Olivia and I are having lunch before the meeting, I can fill her in on everything, then you and Drake can just work with her on the techy stuff.”

“You don’t have to do that, Riley.”

“No, you’re right, I don’t have to, but it will help you, so I want to.”

Liam pressed a lingering kiss to her lips. “Thank you, love.”

A few hours later, Riley sat on the terrace waiting for Olivia to arrive. She had Bastien perform a full sweep of the area to ensure that their conversation remained between them. Part of her hoped it would be easier to explain everything this time. After all, she had already explained everything three times. Then she remembered the hardest part of this whole thing, it wasn’t telling people what was going on, it was seeing their reactions. She was, one by one, breaking the hearts of all of the people closest to her. While Olivia had already made peace with the shortcomings of her parents, she was about to learn the truth about what happened to her best friend’s mother. Not only was she with Liam when he lost her, seeing his heartbreak first hand, but Eleanor had taken Olivia in when she lost her parents, she took care of her as if she were her own mother. Better than her own mother, she showed Olivia love and kindness, things that her mother taught her to be weaknesses. 

As Olivia approached the table, Riley stood to greet her with a smile. Olivia was instantly suspicious. It had been a few weeks since the pair had seen each other, usually when that was the case, Riley would charge her and wrap her in a hug. An action that Olivia would begrudgingly reciprocate. 

“What’s wrong?” Olivia stood in front of her place at the table, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Good to see you too, Liv. Why would you think something is wrong?”

Olivia rolled her eyes before continuing, “Because you’re standing there smiling like the queen. You didn’t run up to me greeting me with that annoying sing-song voice.”

“I’m smiling like the queen because I am the queen, and this is how I smile.” Riley feigned offense. “Maybe I’m just maturing as a person.”

“You sent me a video the other day of cats pushing things off of counters.”

“Oh yea, that was hilarious! Cats can be real je--” She stopped when Olivia arched her brow in a silent ‘I told you so’. “Alright fine, I have to fill you in on some things.”

Once they sat, Riley filled Olivia in on everything that had happened since the Harvest Ball. The recruitment, the meeting, and all of the information she had learned along the way. As difficult as it was, Olivia remained silent while Riley spoke. She wanted to make sure to get every piece of information that was being thrown at her. 

“So that’s why Liam scheduled a meeting with you when the council lets out. He and Drake are going to speak with you about cameras and recorders that I can sneak in with me to get some evidence.” There was a silence between the two while Olivia processed the information.

Olivia took a deep breath before speaking. “How is he handling all of this?”

“I mean, you know Liam. He’s keeping it inside and not really talking about it. And when he does, he’s blaming himself.” Riley shrugged. One of the things she loved about him was how much he cared about everyone else, but it was also one of his most frustrating traits. He was always too worried about those around him to properly take care of his needs, and would often blame himself for things he had no control over. 

“That sounds about right.” Olivia’s expression softened. “He took it so hard when his mother died. He was so broken.”

“And now, it’s like he’s losing her all over again, but so much worse, because he’s questioning everything about himself.” Riley could feel the emotion building up inside of her. 

Olivia smiled sadly as she reached across the table and placed her hand over Riley’s. “It will take time, he’ll get past it, and you’re going to be a big part of that.”

Riley nodded, taking a moment to compose herself. “So, you’ll help right?”

“You’ve been through a lot the last couple of days, so I’m going to let that ridiculous question slide.”

Riley sat a little lower in her seat and raised her glass to her lips before mumbling out a ‘thank you’. 

The pair finished their lunch, and made their way to the council meeting. Liam was waiting by the door, greeting the members as they entered. Riley approached first, placing a chaste kiss on his lips before taking her place next to him. As Olivia approached, an uncharacteristically sympathetic look spread across her face before she leaned in, kissing Liam on the cheek and bringing him into a brief hug. As they pulled away, they looked at each other and nodded, and Olivia continued into the room. 

Liam wrapped his arm around Riley’s waist and kissed her on the temple before returning his attention to the council members that were still arriving. Though it didn’t seem like much, Liam knew exactly what that greeting meant, and it was just what Liam needed from his childhood friend.  

As the members of the council cleared out of the room, Riley and Liam found a corner where they could have a moment to themselves. “That went well, they really seemed to like your new proposal.” Riley smiled, smoothing her hands over the lapels of Liam’s jacket.

“I’m very excited to move forward with it.” He brushed a loose hair out of her face, placing a kiss on the newly exposed spot on her forehead. “Will you be joining us for our meeting?”

“No, I’m going to pick up Eleanor and take her outside to play. You guys need some privacy. Just make sure that if it’s wearable, you pick something cute.” She reached up and kissed him on the nose. 

Liam gave an over exaggerated gasp, placing a hand over his chest. “Riley Rys, have you ever known me to give you something that wasn’t of the utmost caliber of cute?”

“Hmm let me think, cute outfits, cute jewelry, cute baby,” she pondered, placing her forefinger over her lip as she looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, “cute husband. Nope, you’re right, you’ve given me the cutest everything since day one.” 

He laughed and pulled her close, pressing his lips to hers. 

“Alright, break it up. You’re adults in charge of an entire country, you can’t keep being late for stuff because you were making out.” Drake interrupted the pair, who pulled away blushing slightly. 

“We’re the king and queen, we’re never late, everyone else is just early.” Riley teased before looking up at Liam. “We really should get going though.

Riley kissed Liam softly and gave Drake a hug before walking out of the room. Liam watched her exit before turning to his friend. “Let’s get Olivia and head upstairs.”

When they entered the Royal Quarters, Liam signaled for Olivia and Drake to sit on the couch before he took a seat on the chair adjacent to them. “Olivia, I appreciate your time this afternoon. I understand Riley filled you in on the situation.”

“She did. How are you doing?” She paused, looking over to Drake. “Both of you.” 

Drake knitted his brows in confusion. “Since when do you give a fuck about feelings...or me, for that matter?”

“Listen Drake, we’ve had our...differences over the years, but I know how it feels to be betrayed by your family. That isn’t something I would wish on even my worst enemy.” Olivia had a kindness in her voice that neither of the men expected. 

“Oh, well thanks. I’m alright. Liam really got hit with the brunt of it though.” Drake turned to the chair, he was also hoping to hear Liam’s answer. He hadn’t spoken much about everything since that initial meeting. 

Liam looked between his childhood friends, the two people in this world that knew him almost as well as Riley did, he knew that they wouldn’t let him get away with brushing the question off. He exhaled and wiped his hand over his face before responding. “It has been difficult, I have a lot that I still need to process. I cannot fully process everything without confronting Thomas, and possibly Eleanor. Which I clearly cannot do until this has been resolved. Riley would be exposed, I can’t put her in danger like that. My focus right now is making sure she is safe, and that we end this. That’s where you come in, Olivia.”

“Of course, talk to me about what kind of information you are looking to gather. We can go from there.”

They spent the next few hours talking about what kind of information they were hoping to collect, what Olivia had for equipment, and what she could get without causing suspicion from outside parties. They settled on an audio recorder embedded in a button that could be sewn into one of Riley’s existing blouses, along with a retractable pen that doubled as a camera, taking still shots every time the top was clicked. This would, not only, allow Riley to get the devices into the meeting, but it would enable Olivia to easily have everything delivered from Lythikos to the palace. 

As their meeting wrapped up, Riley and Eleanor walked through the door. As soon as Eleanor saw Olivia on the couch, she broke into a sprint. “Auntie!” 

Olivia raised her hand before Eleanor could make it all the way to the couch. “Eleanor, what did I teach you about running?”

She stopped dead in her tracks, pausing to remember. “Running is for the weak.”

Olivia nodded. “Very good, now approach like the princess you are, and greet your aunt properly.”

Eleanor carefully approached Olivia, stopping when she got directly in front of her. “Hello, Auntie Olivia.”

“That’s better.” Olivia reached out and pulled Eleanor into her lap, giving her a hug. 

Drake leaned in behind Olivia’s back and whispered in Eleanor’s ear, “You. Me. Maze tag. After Auntie Olivia leaves.” Eleanor covered her mouth and giggled. 

“I heard that Walker.” Olivia turned around, staring Drake down. “She is going to be the Queen of Cordonia one day, there are more important uses of her time.”

“She’s a kid, Liv, she needs to have fun.” 

“Alright, alright.” Riley stepped in and took Eleanor from Olivia’s arms. “Why don’t you two put a pin in this conversation. When you finally get over this fake hate that is so obviously love, you can fight over how to raise your children.” 

Drake and Olivia both snapped their heads toward Riley, who now had Liam standing beside her trying to stifle a laugh. 

“Yes Drake, then Riley and I won’t be the only ones running late for stuff because we were making out.” Liam exchanged a high five with his wife. 

Drake shook his head, “Gross. I’m leaving.”

“But Uncle Drake, you promised maze tag?” Eleanor looked up at him with sad eyes. 

“You’re right, I did. Let’s go kid.” He reached his arm out, taking Eleanor’s hand. “You won’t make fun of me like your mom and dad do, will you?”

“Never ever.”

“And that’s why you’re my favorite.” With that, they made their way out the door. 

Riley shared a brief laugh with Liam before they both turned their attention back to Olivia. They spoke for a while longer, Liam and Olivia filling Riley in on what they had come up with. Olivia was invited to stay for dinner, but she had to get back to Lythikos to prepare the recording equipment to be sent to the palace. Riley walked Olivia out while Liam remained on the couch. When she returned to the sitting area, she sat in Liam’s lap. 

“It sounds like we have a decent plan in place. I hope I can get some good information in this meeting.” Riley wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck and kissed him on the tip of his nose. 

Liam looked at her with a hint of sadness in his eyes as he brought one hand up to stroke her cheek. “Me too, I just wish we didn’t have to risk your safety to get it.”

“Hey, I’ll be ok, I promise.” She pressed a kiss to his lips. “We’ve got this.”

He nodded. As much as he wanted to believe her, he knew this battle was so much different than any they had fought before. They couldn’t trust anyone, and there was a possibility that they were being observed at any given time. He didn’t doubt Riley’s strength or tenacity for a second. But this time, there were so many questions and unknowns about their enemy, that he feared the worst.

Riley noticed Liam falling deeper and deeper into his thoughts, she knew she needed to do something to get him back to the present. She began playing with the hair at the base of his neck as she placed soft kisses along his jaw. “You know, I don’t have to start dinner for another hour...and Eleanor is outside with Drake...any thoughts on what we could do with this sudden time to ourselves?” She asked in between kisses.

The sadness in his eyes was quickly replaced with a look of desire. “Mmm...I do have a few things in mind.” His hands traveled the curves of her body as he methodically kissed down her neck.

“Care to tell me?”

“I’d rather show you.” Liam stood abruptly, lifting Riley with him and tossing her over his shoulder, slapping her on her behind. He delighted at the yelp that escaped her at the sudden contact. He quickly carried her to the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. 

Continue Reading

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Sapere Aude: @burnsoslow​ @busywoman​ @ofpixelsandscribbles​

Liam x Riley: @jared2612​

[refinedbuffoonery]

Quarantine Moments (14)

Soooooo this started as me vibing to a Halsey song and then it turned into angst. Oops. Sorry. 

Also, in case you missed the announcement earlier this week, this is the last QM. I’ve had so much fun writing these, but it’s time to move on to new things. :)

*****

It’s a quiet night in the MacGyver household. 

Mac lays on the couch, practicing the ukulele. Bozer and Riley are in their respective rooms, doing their own thing. As much as he loves them, Mac has to admit it’s nice having some alone time. 

His fingers land on the wrong strings, and the resulting chord grates on his ears. 

Progress is coming slowly, to say the least. 

Riley shuffles into the kitchen and fills a glass of water for herself. Using her presence as an excuse to pause his increasingly frustrating playing, Mac studies Riley’s posture. Her shoulders cave inward, and she shifts her weight back and forth, from one leg to the other. When Riley turns around, Mac notices the heavy expression in her eyes. 

Something is wrong. 

They hold eye contact for a few seconds, saying nothing. It’s almost as if Riley is trying to convey her thoughts without actually speaking. 

Mac wishes he could understand her. Usually he can. But this look...he can’t pinpoint what it means. 

“C’mon,” Riley beckons. “Let’s go for a drive.” 

Mac frowns, checking the time. “Now? It’s almost ten.” 

“Let’s go,” she repeats. Crossing the distance to the couch, Riley lowers her voice. “Bozer needs some space. I accidentally walked in on him while he was on the phone.” The heavy look in her eyes suddenly makes sense. 

“His mom?” 

“Mac—” Riley lowers her gaze. “She’s...she’s not doing well.” 

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, sitting up. Bozer’s mom is the closest thing Mac has to a mother. She certainly raised him like he was her own. 

Riley squeezes his shoulder reassuringly. “I’ll drive. Does your truck have gas? Mine’s almost out.” 

Still thinking about Bozer’s mom, Mac almost doesn’t hear her. “Yeah,” he belatedly stutters. Closing his eyes and taking a few deep, steadying breaths, Mac pulls on a pair of sneakers and follows Riley out the door. 

It feels good to leave the house.

Riley winds her way through the city streets, turning periodically but generally heading west. Mac’s beach playlist plays softly through the speakers. The roads are empty, which still shocks Mac even after two months of lockdown. Even late at night, there’s usually people on the road. The eerie stillness of his city is unnerving. It’s usually pulsing with life, not...whatever this is. 

A ghost-town, perhaps. Haunted by the memory of the diverse, vibrant beings that once inhabited it. 

“Did you hear anything else?” he asks, referring to Bozer’s phone call. 

Regret flashes in Riley’s eyes. “No. I left as soon as I realized who he was talking to.” 

After a few more turns, they’re in a part of town Mac isn’t familiar with, and he can’t stop himself from asking, “Where are you taking me?” He knows the difference between Riley aimlessly driving and when she has a destination in mind, and this is definitely the latter. 

“My spot.” 

.

They end up at the beach. 

Riley rolls down her window partway, and the smell of saltwater and seaweed wafts in on the gentle breeze. The lights of a ship glimmer in the distance; it’s big, maybe a cargo ship or an aircraft carrier. 

There’s something soothing about being near the ocean, Mac thinks, like all his troubles will be washed out to sea with the receding tide. 

There’s a lot he’d like to wash away.

Mac exhales with each wave's retreat, letting his thoughts and emotions go with it, one by one. After a few minutes, Mac feels lighter than he has in days. "Thanks for getting me out of the house," he says. "I know it wasn't your intention, but I needed this."

"You're welcome." Riley glances at him and looks away, biting her lip. Something flickers in her eyes, just for a second, but it’s gone before Mac can figure out what it is. 

“So, I heard a good joke today,” Mac says. 

“Oh really? Where’d you hear it?” 

“On my run. The teenage boys on the corner were practicing their stand-up comedy routine in the front yard again.” 

Riley smiles. “Let’s hear it.” 

Mac takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself so he doesn’t start laughing before he lands the punchline. “What did the fish say when it hit the wall?” 

Riley makes a show of thinking for a second. “I don’t know. What?” 

“Dam.” 

Riley tips her head back and laughs, the sound loud and full of life. Tendrils of warmth curl in Mac’s insides, taking up residence in the shadowed corners of his soul. He’s been thinking about that joke all day, waiting for the right moment to tell her. 

Because Riley is the first person he wanted to tell, not Bozer or Desi or anyone else. 

Just Riley. 

She’s still laughing as her gaze catches his, and her raw, unguarded expression sends a chill down Mac’s spine. 

Sometimes Mac lets himself think about what it could be like if that wall between them wasn’t there. 

She’d consume him, in every way possible. And he’d gladly let her. 

But that wall is there. It’s been there since the day they met, and Mac respects her too much to poke holes in it. Maybe it’s a good thing. With the wall there to block sparks and fireworks, they developed a quiet rhythm of love and care, and Mac wouldn’t trade that for the world. 

If he let himself love her, really love her, there would be no going back from that, no returning to the way things are now. Either they’d be it for each other—be the one—or they’d wreck each other too thoroughly to ever be just friends again. So even if the wall came down, in a future where Desi is out of the picture, Mac would think twice before crossing that line with Riley. 

And he knows she would too. 

But that wall is there, Mac reminds himself again, and he and Desi are trying to make their relationship work. And as for Riley...

Riley will always be the “what if” he never got the chance to answer. 

Mac can live with that. He doesn’t have a choice, really. 

*****

Riley didn’t think about where was going. She just let her hands and feet take her where she needed to go, and it’s only in the comfortable quiet after Mac tells his stupid joke that Riley realizes what she’s done. 

“I’ve never taken anyone here before,” she confesses suddenly. Riley found this lesser-known beach access point in high school, not long after getting her driver’s license. Her spot has always been a quiet place she could escape to when she needed to avoid the real world for a while. It has always been there for her—when Riley was mad or sad or frustrated, or when she just needed some alone time to think. 

Mac snaps his head up in surprise. “Really?” 

“Yeah.” Riley looks away. She wants to tell him, but she can’t bring herself to do it while he’s looking at her like that. “Though, I almost took Aubrey here once.” 

“What stopped you?” 

“I chickened-out at the last minute. I thought I was ready to share it with him, but there was this little voice in my head telling me to keep this place to myself. So I kept driving. I parked in the lot a couple miles south and said that was my spot.” Riley avoids thinking about what it might mean that she didn’t think twice about bringing Mac.

There’s a long pause, and then Mac says, “Thank you for sharing this with me. You didn’t have to. And for the record, even if you had told me about your spot, I never would’ve asked you to bring me here if you didn’t want to.” 

It takes a couple tries to swallow the lump in her throat. “I think Aubrey knew I was lying,” Riley deflects. “So I made out with him long enough for him to forget, and he never brought it up later.” She picks at her nails. The dark gray polish is chipping; she’ll have to repaint them soon. “That was the only thing I ever lied to him about. Besides work stuff, of course. And we know how that turned out.” 

The stench of seaweed and decay fills her nostrils. Riley focuses on it—anything to distract her from the scent of Mac’s laundry detergent. It’s plagued her ever since moving in with him after breaking up with Aubrey. The scent she’s long associated with safety and her friend—and now the person she has unrequited feelings for—follows her everywhere, since her clothes smell like it too. Most days Riley can ignore it, but sometimes....sometimes it feels like torture. 

And right now, at her special spot, in his truck, wearing clothes that smell like him, it all feels like a mockery of what Riley wants and can never have. 

Once, just this once, she lets herself imagine it anyway. 

They’re on another drive, just like this one. It starts with stolen glances, then she switches to driving with one hand so the other can rest innocently on the center console, and soon enough, Mac’s fingers slip between hers. 

Then they’re parked at Riley’s spot, and his lips are on her neck, trailing light kisses across her throat. They get a little carried away, marking skin and untucking shirts, and a murmured Let’s get out of here has Riley speeding home so they can continue this in private. 

Riley shivers. Taking a deep breath, she tucks the fantasy into the far corner of her mind for safe keeping. Riley knows she should just let it go. There’s only so long she can sit in the silence, waiting for a sign and wondering if kissing him would really ruin everything they already have. 

Riley finally dares to glance at Mac again. He’s already looking at her, still wearing that soft expression from before. It’s enough to make her wonder, what if? 

What if he’s everything she ever wanted? 

But what if she loses everything instead? 

[eberles]

Just Friends

Mat Barzal

A/N: this is my first mat barzal fic, and the first thing ive written outside of the obx fandom! im very nervous to be posting this, but i hope some of you like it! also, thank you @fav-imagines for the idea ilysm!! feedback is of course welcome, and my requests are open if you want to send something in! 🥰

Warnings: angst, swearing maybe?

When you met Mat over a year ago you never would’ve expected to be where you are in your relationship. You met him in a bar, a few of your friends forcing you out after a break up, and he spilt his drink on you. As if you weren’t already having a bad night, now your shirt was wet and you smelt like beer, that was until you looked up and saw his face. You could see his lips moving, but you couldn’t hear anything he was saying, having been distracted by his gorgeous face. He shook his hand in front of your face, a smile brightening his features, and you snapped back into reality. He was apologizing profusely and after a few minutes of talking you agreed to go back to his apartment, he assured you there would be no funny business after he could tell you were contemplating going off on him. You guys spent the night eating pizza and watching movies, and thus was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. 

Now here you were, 15 months later, crying about how you craved for Mat to be more than just a friend. Of course, you were beyond grateful to have met him that night, he helped immensely with your break up and it didn't take long for you to start feeling more than just friendship feelings for him. You would never tell him though, always wanting to preserve the wonderful friendship you guys did have, but sometimes it was difficult. Like now, when Mat appears to be in an amazing relationship, with an amazing girl who he raves about all the time and constantly posts pictures with. Scrolling through his instagram for what felt like the 100th time that night, with tears in your eyes, you heard a soft knock on your apartment door. Walking over to the door, wondering what someone would want at midnight, you looked through the peephole to see Mat. “Shit.” you whispered, using your sleeves to wipe at your eyes knowing it wouldn’t make a difference because of your red face and puffy eyes. 

“Mat…” you opened the door, talking softly, noticing distraught features covering his face. “Are you okay?” you stepped out of the doorway, letting him through as you spoke. You watched as he made his way to your couch making himself comfortable like always and you sat beside him, eyes searching his face.

“We broke up.” Mat whispered, head down almost like he was ashamed to admit it and you hated that you even felt a small jolt of excitement as his words. Of course, seeing him in pain was the last thing you wanted. “I should've ended it a while ago, it was clear the only thing she wanted from me was outside attention. She just-I don’t know, it was so amazing at the beginning you know?” Mat spoke looking up at you, finally seeing your face and immediately his dropped even more than before. “Wait. What’s wrong? Were you crying?” 

“Oh, Mat. I’m so sorry. I know you really liked h-”

“Y/N...talk to me. Are you okay?” Mat asked, with pleading eyes, grabbing your hands in your lap and holding them for comfort. The action and his words bringing more tears to your eyes, causing you to turn away from him and pull your hands out of his grasp, standing up off the couch. His eyes followed you, watching as you backed away from the couch slowly, using your sleeves to wipe the falling tears away again. 

“I’m fine, really. We were talking about you anyways.” You brushed it off, hoping to bring the attention back to him. Mat eyed you skeptically and patted the seat next to him on the couch for you to rejoin him. You walked closer to him feeling his gaze following you as you found your spot next to him again. He put a hand on your knee, squeezing it subtly, unbeknownst to him causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach and a heat to rush to your face. “You know it’s her loss right? She’s missing out for sure.”

“You think so?” Mat smirked, bumping his shoulder against your own, rolling your eyes noticing his cocky self start to return. “It’s okay, i’m not heartbroken about it, but it’s another failed relationship added to the list.”

“I definitely hear where you’re coming from, bub.” You sat back against the couch, feeling better after your meltdown earlier. Mat had that power over you, just his presence alone could turn your whole mood around in just a matter of minutes. You guys fell asleep on the couch together watching netflix and you were grateful he chose to not bring up your crying episode from earlier. 

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

It’s been a few weeks since that night and a few days after Mat had to leave for a few away games, and tonight he was coming home. You were beyond excited to see him again, never understanding how you lived your life happily before meeting him and now you couldn’t even go 2 weeks apart from him. You didn’t know this but Mat felt the same way, it killed him everytime he had to leave you. He knew you would be home waiting for him so your house is the first place he went after getting back into town. You heard a knock on your door and you jumped up from your seat, running to the door and swinging it open. You just about lunged at Mat standing in front of you and he grabbed you tightly giving you a long hug right in the middle of your apartment complex hallway. Mat picked you up walking you into your apartment, while you laughed as he mumbled something about not wanting to be in the hallway any longer. 

“I missed you!” you spoke as he put you down, you releasing yourself from his grip and looking up at him smiling widely. He mirrored your expression and repeated the words back to you in a genuine manner. You bombarded him with questions about how it was being away and on the road, obviously you watched the games from home, but you wanted the insider details. Mat updated you on his life and listened as you briefed him on everything happening on yours. There was something different in the air tonight and both of you felt it. Ever since that night and during the weeks he had been gone, you both noticed different things developing between the two of you. More touches, more flirting, more late night talks, and it felt like everything was falling into place.

It’s now been a few hours since he arrived at your apartment and after talking for most of the time you guys put on a movie, which was always a ritual for the two of you. You guys were laying on your bed looking at the screen and Mat was playing aimlessly with your fingers when you heard him start to whisper, “I think i’m in love with you.” 

You shot up from your laying position and stared at him, blinking slowly, “Did you mean to say that?” He shook his head slowly and continued, “Before I met you I felt like there was something missing in my life and over the last few weeks I realized I was missing you”

You gasped, feeling your heart swell in your chest. These were the words you’ve been waiting over a year to hear. Mat started to shift awkwardly next to you and you realized it’s been a few minutes and you hadn’t said anything. “You have no idea how long i’ve waited for you to say that.”

Mat breathed out a sigh of relief, sitting up so he was next to you, cupping your face between his hands, both of you leaning in, brushing your lips against each other. It started out slow, but turned heated rather quickly, both of you releasing all of your pent up emotions. Your hands were wrapped around the back of his neck playing with the hair on the back of his head, before pulling away slowly.

“I’m in love with you too, by the way.” you laughed, breathing heavy from the passionate kiss before leaning in for more.

[the-cheese-writes]

I wonder ~ Prinxiety

Requested by: @_becxmoonsy on Wattpad

TW: None

Word count: 1895

{Masterpost}

----------

To say that Virgil and Roman’s relationship was complicated was an understatement. It didn’t kick off smoothly if you wanted a base to start from.

Roman had been the first to meet him, and although Virgil had, somehow, greeted him, he didn’t exactly welcome him well.

‘Hey there, Princey!’

‘Oh… kay. Can’t stand that guy.’

And those were the first words they said to each other. Obviously, they had started off on the wrong foot (which was evident in later episodes where they argue and bicker constantly), but after Roman changed, so did Virgil and so did everything else.

Whether it was subtle differences like trying to nickname each other more nicely or bigger switch ups like Virgil’s style, it was apparent that they had both changed for the better and, seemingly, each other.

But with their development, came new emotions and feelings, especially for Roman. Seeing a spike of confidence in Virgil the day he donned a new appearance, sparked something in the prince, something he had never felt before or for anyone previously for that matter.

It was… a good feeling. It was exciting and sweet, like candy, but also a little nerve-wracking and it made him giddy inside as well as out. Roman loved it and he felt it the most around Virgil. He never dared speak a word about it to anyone though. Secrets like these were best kept hidden; they were fun to hide anyway.

Unfortunately, for Roman, he wasn’t exactly the best at concealing things, which was how the cat got out of the bag. (No, don’t worry it’s not a real cat. Patton’s allergies will be fine.)

***

“Hey Virge! Whatcha doin’?” Roman said as he approached his friend. Looking up from his phone for a second, Virgil smiled.

“Just scrolling through Tumblr, as usual,” he replied, patting the empty spot next to him, indicating to Roman that he wanted him to sit down.

The prince happily obliged and when he took his place next to Virgil, he laid down onto his lap. As he stared at the ceiling, Roman wondered about what he and Virgil were. What they did with each other normally happened around romantic couples, but they were just being friends… right?

They always hugged, and cuddled together, leaned on each other’s shoulders when they needed to and spent almost every minute of every day together. The only thing missing was the kiss.

His eyes then shifted from the ceiling to Virgil’s face. It was illuminated slightly by the light emanating from his phone and his expression was so… peaceful and he was smiling a little, causing Roman’s heart to jump a few hurdles.

Virgil was gently playing with his hair, softly stroking it routinely and massaging it occasionally; these actions made Roman wonder if they would mean anything more if they were a couple.

Nothing would really need to change, right? They would continue to do what they normally did around each other except then, they would be romantically involved. Would there be anymore significance?

His eyes then flickered to Virgil’s lips: always soft, always a little chapped but always kissable. In that moment, Roman wanted nothing more than to seize his face and drown him in affection, but obviously he couldn’t do that and he pushed himself off of Virgil’s lap and away from the sofa as quickly as he could to halt anything too… impulsive.

“Ro? You good?” asked Virgil, raising an eyebrow at him in confusion at his sudden movement.

“Uh, yeah. I just remembered that I needed to do something,” Roman lied, raking a hand through his hair. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

And with that, he dashed up to his room, leaving Virgil completely baffled.

Briskly walking into his room, Roman closed the door, his back facing it, and sighed heavily. He looked ahead and tried to clear his mind of any thoughts of Virgil, but there was no use. He was there, imprinted and glued and Roman would just be wasting his energy trying to get him out.

But Virgil stuck in his head wasn’t such a bad thing though; at least his mind was, in a way, doing him a favour with images of his crush.

Being the creative side he was, Roman suddenly got an idea to place the scenario that had appeared on his head on a canvas - he had nothing better to do anyway. He grabbed his headphones and played one of his playlists on Spotify named ‘Virgil💜🔮🎵’. (It was called that because he would listen to it whenever he thought of him and what they could be.)

With a snap of his fingers, Roman conjured a pot of paint brushes and some paint and set to work constructing his mind’s image.

He started with the base of the painting first - the sky - with midnight blue which faded to a lighter shade as it descended. Then, he created the grass, using black paint since it would only be a silhouette and set it just below the halfway point and in the middle, he painted a bench with two people sitting on it, who he imagined to be him and Virgil.

Roman smiled at the thought of them stargazing together with nothing to interrupt them and their picture perfect moment but the occasional breeze. After making the trees on the side and the moon in the twilight sky, Roman tied the whole piece together with the addition of stars.

During this time, the song ‘Wonder’ by Shawn Mendes played and he grinned, seeing how relevant it was to his current situation. As he dipped his brush in white paint and flicked it across the canvas, Roman sang the words, not as passionately as Shawn did, but with as much energy as he wanted - which was a decent amount.

Unbeknownst to him however, Virgil had been listening outside the entire time. After his puzzling retreat to his room, the emo followed him, but what he heard when he was just about to knock on his door was a lovely surprise.

Roman was singing, as per usual, but what he sang intrigued Virgil. At that time, it was ‘Would You Be So Kind’ by dodie. He sunk behind the door, quietly singing with him and thought about how it tailored to their relationship. He had never been vocal about it, but he had always had a little crush on Princey, ever since the beginning; he wondered if he too felt the same way.

After a couple songs and unknown duets between them, Virgil finally decided to knock. When there was no response, he opened the door and Roman was still singing - a song he hadn’t heard before, but he listened to the lyrics. 

As he stepped closer, he realised what Roman was doing and admired the painting from afar. It was absolutely beautiful and from what he could see; it looked flawless and not a single stroke was out of place. Virgil didn’t really expect anything less than excellence from Roman’s work though. As the prince, he constantly strived for perfection.

‘I wonder what it’s like to be loved by you,’ Roman sang and Virgil instantly froze. They probably weren’t, but he couldn’t help but wonder if those words were meant for him?

‘I wonder why I’m so afraid,

Of saying something wrong, I never said I was a saint.

I wonder, when I cry into my hands,

I’m conditioned to feel like it makes me less of a man.

And I wonder if someday you’ll be by my side,

And tell me that the world will end up alright.’

Virgil thought that he might be getting to the end of the song, so he shyly approached him.

Clearing his throat, he said loudly to get his attention, “Princey?”

Instantly, Roman turned around. He was fixated to the spot for a few seconds, before he took off his headphones and set his brush down.

“Virgil!” he said, smiling awkwardly. “How- how long have you been standing there?”

“Not very long. I just wanted to see if you were okay ‘cause you left really quickly downstairs,” Virgil answered, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

 

“Oh, no yeah I’m fine. I just wanted to do… this!” Roman then pointed to his artwork, showing it off and giving Virgil a clearer view of what he had seen only a little of earlier.

“Wow,” Virgil sighed, stepping closer. “It’s lovely.”

“Thanks.” Roman grinned, proud of his work. Virgil glanced at him for a moment, then quickly looked back down, both of their cheeks tinting cherry red.

“Who are they?” asked Virgil, pointing to the black silhouette of the two boys seated on the bench.

“Um no one. Just characters,” Roman replied quickly, blushing and fiddling with his fingers. Noticing his flustered state, Virgil smirked and decided to dig a little deeper.

“Hmm. They look awfully familiar,” he teased, rubbing his chin thoughtfully then turning to Roman who tried to play it off as innocently as he could.

“Oh they do? How interesting.” Virgil smirked and stared at him for a bit longer, but soon realised that he wouldn’t be getting anywhere if he kept it up. So, he tried something else.

Sheepishly, he walked up to Roman, keeping his hands in his pockets and looked at him through his bangs.

“You once told me that everything you say, do or sing has a meaning behind it. Well, almost everything. What were you singing about earlier?”

Roman turned away and fiddled with his sash. “You heard?”

Virgil hummed in response, then he sighed and decided that now was a better time than ever.

“Those words, those lyrics. I sang from somewhere. Someplace only I know and hope to share with someone one day.”

“Someone? Who is…”

Roman was on the edge of the cliff. He could see the crashing waves below and knew that if he didn’t have faith in his wings, he would plummet down, but if he clung onto that hope hard enough, he could soar through the cotton clouds and the exhilarating breeze to the ends of the earth. All it took was a jump.

So he held his breath and leaped.

“You.”

Virgil froze. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped; he was speechless, he didn’t know what to say. All these years of what he thought was once hopeless crushing and longing for something that he believed could never be, turns out he was wrong all along.

As Roman braced himself for the worst, the little smile of Virgil’s starstruck face grew and he lunged at Roman, embracing him in a tight hug.

The prince was surprised, but didn’t at all complain and hugged him back just as tightly. Even still, he didn’t want to jump to conclusions.

“Virge?”

“You wonder what it’s like? To be loved by me?” Virgil said as he pulled away, meeting Roman’s eyes. He glanced at his lips and Virgil noticed, so he swiftly leaned in and softly kissed him. But it wasn’t long before the kiss grew more passionate, making it clear to them both that they had waited far too long for this to happen.

When they eventually parted, they stayed close, gazing into each other’s eyes. Both boys then grinned blissfully at each other, satisfied in the moment that they wished would last forever.

“That’s what it’s like.”