#and you had to scroll five miles in the snow to get to the end of the post | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nctsworld · 4 years ago

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two nights, one you

✩‌ jaemin ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ fuckboy!jaemin | strangers (who f*ck) to (brief) enemies to lovers | ‌10.9k

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ a last-minute one night stand gone awry is extended into two nights when you’re snowed in at the cute (but rude) stranger’s apartment on christmas eve. [loosely based on the movie, two night stand] // part of the x-mas in ncity collection GENRES ⇾ crack | smut | fluff WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌lots of bickering and dialogue, smut, oral s*x (f and m receiving), fingering, mentions of alcohol/drinking, swearing, bit of angst before the end, jaemin’s an asshole... or is he? RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ explicit TAGLIST ⇾‌ @infnteen

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ it’s late (and long fsldkm), srysry but here it is! i hope the humour comes out in this and look away if falls flat zzz fingers crossed that i can finish the last two installments for this collection asap!

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

Maybe it’s because it’s the evening of Christmas Eve Eve and you’re feeling more lonely than usual.

Maybe it’s due to the two glasses of wine you guzzled down in the span of fifteen minutes that get you buzzed.

Maybe it’s your prominent six-month dry spell and you’re in desperate need for some much needed rain in your drought.

Or maybe it’s just pure impulsiveness.

Regardless of the reasons, you’re aiming to get laid tonight.

It’s 9:45pm as you make the rounds on Tinder. You’ve used it in the past, searching for a relationship in vain, but haven’t used it much since you broke up with your last partner. Bringing the app alive again, you’re already bombarded by distasteful messages, off-putting one-liners and jokes, and swiping left more than you’d like.

You haven’t had a one-night stand before, but isn’t there anyone on here that is just a little bit attractive, nearby where you are, around your age, and is somewhat chivalrous about the topic besides saying DTF? Maybe you need to lower your standards if you want to get dicked down tonight.

But then, you land on him.

One Na Jaemin, 20 years old, and only four miles away from you.

Scrolling through his profile pictures and Instagram feed, you assume that he’s into photography, is on the athletic side from the various hobbies he partakes in, and he must be at least half-aware of his beauty because there’s the occasional pic that shows off his lean, toned arms, which, if you can be frank, is more flattering than the shirtless ones you constantly see. Oh, and he attends the same university as you.

The cherry on top? His bio is simple and upfront:

“Not up for anything serious, but always down for a good time ;)”

You swipe right without hesitation.

“It’s a Match!” flashes instantly at you. Your mouth swings open in disbelief.

Usually, you’d wait for your matches to message you and play hard-to-get, but not tonight. Tonight, you’re initiating and leading all the conversations, completely driven by your thirst.

Messaging Jaemin is a breeze. He types with more than half a brain, and he flirts, but it isn’t overwhelming or repulsive. Segueing the current topic, you drag your bottom lip upward as you send the following message:

so, hypothetically... if one were to have good time with you would tonight work?

Not even twenty seconds later and he replies with:

-wow, dont you go straight to the point -im impressed -but yeah -tonight works ;)

He’s quick to send his address.

-let me know when ur here and ill come get you out front!

Smacking your lips together, you squeal to yourself in the comfort of your home, excited to meet with him, but then a thought hangs over you—this feels a little too good to be true. Horrible scenarios run through your head, so your fingers dash across your phone’s keyboard:

tbh i haven’t really done this b4 so im kinda new to this is it ok if we video call or smth? gotta make sure you’re real and not a serial killer i’m sure you understand 😛

-for sure for sure -totally get it -ive had my fair share of fake girls and serial killers so i feel u 😛

Grateful for his consideration, you rush to rearrange your hair after you send him a Zoom link, hoping you look decent enough to not have him back off from his initial offer. He appears in the video call on his phone with the front-facing camera on a few seconds after you connect.

“Hi,” you chirp.

A corner of his mouth lifts. “Hey.”

Okay, he’s definitely cuter in real-time than in his pictures.

“You know, I’m not gonna lie, but I lowkey expected to see a dick or something,” you joke in an attempt to dispel your nervousness.

“Same,” he chuckles, running a hand through his black hair.

Oh God, he’s not just cute—he’s devastatingly gorgeous.

“So, this is my place...”

Jaemin moves around with his apartment in the background, revealing his living room first. Envy prods you as you note the brick walls, high ceiling windows, and well-appointed furnishings.

Recalling his address, you ask, “How’d you get a place in the heart of the city?”

“Lucked out,” he shrugs. His phone shakes a bit as he’s still moving. “My friend slash roommate—who is at his girlfriend’s place tonight, so we have the place all to ourselves—his parents own the condo and they gave me a friend discount on the rent.”

He finally stands in one place and turns the light on to reveal a room. “And this is my bedroom.”

Nothing out of the ordinary. A desk table with a gaming set-up, in tow with a gamer chair, and a decently-sized bed beside a nightstand.

“Oh, and here’s my closet.” Jaemin’s on the move again as he opens his closet doors. “Just to make sure you don’t think I hide the skins of my past one-nighters in here.”

A bubbly laugh rises from you. “Okay, I didn’t think of that before, but now you’ve planted the seed in my head. Maybe you hide them in the other rooms.”

“Nah, my roommate would kill me if I did.”

Both of you laugh in unison, and you bob your head with puffed cheeks.

“Okay, it all seems very promising. I’m going to get ready and I’ll guess I’ll see you in a bit, Jaemin.”

“Sounds good,” Jaemin nods, then winks. Although you’re sitting down, he’s still able to get you weak in the knees. “See you soon.”

You end the call and rush to bundle up for the snow starting to come down outside. A twenty-minute train ride later, you’re at the front door of a rustic, industrial apartment complex. After informing Jaemin you’re outside, you glance up at the snowflakes falling from the dark pink-grey sky, anticipating for what comes next.

Sex with a hot guy, what can go wrong?

So, you must’ve jinxed it because the sex is...

Unsatisfying. Finished faster than you’d like it to be. Sadly, overall disappointing. If you had to rate it, three out of five stars, at best.

But hey, he came, and you sort of did, and it wasn’t the worst sex you’ve ever had. It half-quenched your dry spell.

And enough happened that it tired you out, leaving you passed out in the handsome stranger’s bed until morning.

In the morning, your eyes slowly flicker, unused to the foreign, sweet scent engulfing you in your bed. Correction: Jaemin’s bed.

Your eyes flicker faster as you glance through the almost wall-sized window. The snow hasn’t let up from last night. On the contrary, it seems like it’s snowing non-stop. You groan at the thought of going home in this weather.

The bed is without Jaemin’s presence as you reach for your phone on the nightstand. 10:36AM and a few notifications greet you. You rub your eyes and start combing through them, rising upward to sit up on the bed.

“Morning. You’re finally up.”

Peering up from your device, Jaemin’s standing by the door with folded arms. His plain sweater and sweatpants match the colour of his hair. The dazzling smile he gives is so contagious, you’re not even conscious of catching one too.

“Out you go.”

You blink.

Once, twice, and then you tilt your head as you stare blankly at him, uncertain if you heard him correctly.

After a few moments, because you’re not moving an inch, his smile dissipates and he cocks an eyebrow in expectancy. A serious expression rolls over his face.

Suddenly, Jaemin strolls to the side of the bed and hitches his thumb towards the door.

You definitely heard him right.

And he’s dead-serious.

You replay the video call from last night, dissecting how you thought he was nice and funny and—

Realization dawns on you.

Why would you expect anything more from a two-faced fuck boy?

Still awestruck by the situation, you’re still solid as a statue, so Jaemin takes matters into his own hands and grasps you by your elbow, casually dragging you from his bed like he’s taking out the trash.

“What the fuck?!” you screech.

“C’mon, let’s go. Out out.”

“My clothes, though!” you protest in the middle of the hallway. He sighs in frustration, scurries to the bedroom, and returns with a small pile in his arms, then continues to drag you to the front door.

“Are you always this pleasant with your guests the morning after?” you rage, putting on the rest of your clothes by the door. “You don’t even have the decency to offer me tea or coffee?”

“This was a one-night stand, not a bed and breakfast, sunshine,” he says as he watches you put your shoes on. He’s folding his arms again and leaning against the wall, his attitude dripping with smug. If he wasn’t a stranger, you’d punch it off his face. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were new to this, huh?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means you’re a borderline virgin who needs to toodle-loo, get going and gone because you’re overstaying your welcome as we speak.”

Finishing putting on your coat, you’re fuming as your jaw hangs at the personal jab over your skills in bed. Jaemin swings the door open and shoves you through it.

“But I’ll admit, it was still nice having sex with you!” he chimes with a sickening grin and a hand on the door.

“Aw, thanks asshole, wish I could say the same,” you sarcastically reply, resting a palm upon your chest.

He scoffs. “From what I heard last night, I think I can confidently say that you had a great time.”

Flashbacks replay in your mind of your screaming fest from underneath him. Little did Jaemin actually know—

“You know, for someone who I assume has many one-night stands,” you spit with squinted eyes. “I’m surprised you can’t tell when girls fake it.”

You must’ve hit a sore spot because he grinds his teeth and you could almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

Oh yeah, you’re definitely the winner in this fight.

“Okay, you know what, Merry Christmas and fuck you. Have a great life!”

“Fuck you, dickface. Wishing you a miserable Christmas!”

With a bitter smile, you flip him off as he slams the door in your face.

Carrying a basket filled with dirty clothes, Jaemin’s on the way down to the laundry room in the basement of his apartment with his shoulder scrunched up, squeezing his phone to his ear.

“Bro, she had the audacity to say that I didn’t make her come when she was screaming my God damn ear off—”

As he steps down the short flight of stairs and passes by the foyer area by the main entrance to the building, he notices you’re still here.

“Shit, uh, Jeno,” he mumbles. “I’m gonna have to call you back.”

He stuffs his phone into the pocket of his sweats and calls out to you as he strides closer. “Are you resorting to stalking me by my front door now?”

With crossed arms, you peer over your shoulder, eyes full of bitterness.

“Like I wanna be anywhere near you right now,” you grumble. You jerk your head towards the thick, wooden door. “It’s jammed from the snow.”

The laundry carrier shakes his head and places the basket onto the floor. “A little snow never hurt anyone. You’re probably just too weak.”

Stepping aside and holding out an arm, you signal for him to give it a try.

Jaemin twists the handle and, lo and behold, it doesn’t open. His forehead crinkles as he tries again and again, using more force each time.

Glancing through one of the partially frosted windows adjacent to the sides of the door, he notices the snow has piled enormously high, almost to the height of his chest.

“Well, shit.”

Reluctantly, Jaemin brings you back to his apartment. You’re technically his guest and if he left you in the foyer to freeze, trouble would surely come his way, whether it be in the form of his landlords (also known as his roommate’s parents) or the police.

Without a word, he settles a spoon in a bowl, a carton of milk, and a box of cereal onto the small kitchen table.

At first, you stare at it venomously in rejection, thinking you can easily last a day without any hand-outs from this son of a bitch, but your stomach roars ferociously three seconds later.

As you chew across from him, you enjoy the company of your phone over him, while he does the same but with a cup of coffee in hand.

After finishing your food, you adamantly place your phone down and lean back into the chair, boring holes into his head.

“Why are you such an asshole?” you seethe observantly.

“Why are you such a bitch?” he retorts, not pulling his gaze away from his phone.

“Because you started it,” you say slowly, stating the obvious.

“No, you.”

You sigh defeatedly at his childish behaviour. The weather apps predict the snow will (hopefully) die down by tomorrow morning, thus you’re officially stuck with him for the next twenty-four hours or so. Your hands rake through your hair.

“Whether we like it or not, the snow isn’t going away until tomorrow. Merry Christmas Eve to us, I guess.”

He’s still glued to his phone. You exhale another sigh.

“Since we’re not getting out of this until then, can we just...” You soften your voice. “Start over?”

His eyes are still on the screen, but from the way his shoulders tense and how he stops scrolling, you know he’s considering your proposition.

“At least call a stalemate over this.” You drift your hand in the air, gesturing between you and him.

Blowing out air and shaking his head, he rests his phone onto the table.

“Fine.”

He crosses his arms, imitating you, and the two of you sit there, staring at each other in a long silence.

One minute, to be exact.

You’re the one to break the silence game by running your hands over your face, letting out a hybrid of a groan and laugh.

“God, the fact that we had sex makes this kinda awkward, huh?”

Jaemin’s exterior melts slightly, letting out a snicker. He shrugs, “Then let’s just pretend that we didn’t have sex.”

“We can’t just pretend that we didn’t have sex,” you say, holding two upturned palms near your face.

“We did it, it’s done. I’ve seen your penis, you kicked me out, and you labelled me a prude—” You dart a finger towards him. “—which I am far from, by the way. All of those are pretty huge things.”

One of the corners of his mouth raises high. “Are you saying my penis is huge?”

“No, the implication of said penis is huge. Wipe that smirk off your face.”

He stretches an arm, holding an imaginary microphone to your face. “Do you deny that my penis is huge?”

Rolling your eyes, you swat his fist away. “What am I, on trial here?”

“Do you plead the fifth then?”

Annoyed, you roll your eyes again. Why do you get the feeling that you’re probably going to be doing this a lot more today? Another feeling tells you that if you don’t answer his question, he’ll probably pester you until you do.

You tilt your head side to side. “It’s... decently sized.”

“Bigger or smaller than average?”

“Perfect...” His eyes light up. “...ly average.” And a frown rolls over.

He squints his eyes accusingly at your sneer. “Are you lying like you did before about faking it?”

You scoff. “I wasn’t lying about faking it, and I’m not lying now about your average sized dick.”

Jaemin releases a disgruntled grumble and lifts his cup to his face. You notice he likes to take his coffee black and bitter, presumably like his heart.

“So, Miss I’m-Not-A-Prude-and-I’ve-Definitely-Had-Sex-Before.” His eyebrows perk up on the word definitely. “What’s your story? Why the last minute one-night stand?”

Shrugging your shoulders to your ears, you reply, “Haven’t had sex in a while.”

“When’s the last time you had sex?” he asks mid-sip.

“Half a year ago,” you respond nonchalantly, perching your chin into your palms.

Jaemin immediately chokes, almost spraying the coffee through his nose.

“Half a year?!” he gasps. It takes him a few hits to his chest to dispel the coughing. “Six months?!”

“Wow, you can count!” you exclaim in a condescending tone. You change the position of your hands so that your chin is now atop of the back of your curled fingers and tilt your head. “Can you also spell?”

“As a premed student, I can assure you that I am capable of doing both,” he says with a slight strain due to the coughing fit. The humble brag brings on another eye roll. Of course he’s a premed student with the attitude he wears.

“It’s just—” He clears his throat and swallows the last bit of coffee stuck in his windpipe. “—The last time I had a dry spell was for like, a month, tops.”

So the fuckboy gets laid way more on the daily than you expect. You’re torn between being envious over how much action he gets in comparison to you, or remorseful, since you’re now just one of the many notches on his bedpost.

No matter, sarcasm is always the best defence mechanism.

“Good for you, Jaemin. I’m sure you’re very proud of that.”

There’s an awkward beat. His head hangs for a moment while his thumbs stroke the sides of his cup. A strange pinch of guilt occurs. Did you overstep an unspoken line? But then he drags himself back to reality in a heartbeat.

Jaemin brings the cup to his mouth again, mumbling, “At least the sex on your part makes more sense now; you’re rusty as fuck.”

Completely aware of what he said, you trash your guilt entirely and narrow your eyes. “What did you just say?”

Following a long sip, he hums, “Mmm, nothing.” Soon after, he stands up with his cup.

“I’m gonna go game now. Feel free to watch Netflix on the TV and stay in the living room.”

As if you had anywhere else to go...

He begins to walk towards his room as you mutter under your breath, “I’m not a dog.”

“Says the bitch,” he pipes up, taking you by surprise.

“Thought we had a stalemate?!” you shout, leaning your head forward as you watch him entering his room.

“Doesn’t mean we’re on peaceful terms!” he sing-shouts.

The flinging of the closed door echoes throughout the apartment.

Regret surges through you. You just had to choose a fuckboy fluent in assholery and end up incidentally being isolated with him during a snow storm on Christmas Eve.

You wonder if you can handle being around him for the next twenty-four hours without killing him first.

During the afternoon, you’re on the living room couch, playing a show as mostly background noise while you’re on your phone. At one point, your phone unsurprisingly begins to die and you tread over to Jaemin’s door to ask for a charger and if you can also take a shower. He’s still annoyed by your existence, but at least he hands you a charger and lets you know where the extra towels are.

Stepping into the living room with the towel in your hand as you dry your hair off, you peer out the large living room window and see nothing but white engulfing the streets and buildings as far as the eye can see.

You pray the snow will eventually stop as soon as possible so you can head back home.

By the middle of the afternoon, Jaemin emerges from his bedroom and shocks you by plopping down on the opposite end of the living room couch from where you’re sitting.

“Bored?” you ask, eyes fixated on the TV screen.

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p as he says it. His slings his arm around the top of the couch.

“Gotta keep an eye on you in case you do something.” Turning away from the screen, he faces you and motions circles with his hand. “You’ve got a little crazy in you, I can feel it.”

You quickly glance over at him, but try to refocus on the TV. “Need I remind you that you’re the crazy one, dragging me out of the apartment right as I woke up.”

That compels him to turn his whole body towards you. “Well, you’re the one who wanted a last-minute one-night stand.”

You match his stance. “As if I’m the first girl in your bed to stay in the morning?”

“Actually, yeah.” He aggressively tilts his head to one side. “Most girls leave before I even get up. The other percentage don’t fight me when I ask for them to go, so it looks like you’re the odd one out.”

You press your lips together, refusing to admit that maybe he has a point, under the assumption that he’s telling the truth.

Jaemin twists his body back to the screen and adds, “I make it very clear on my profile that I don’t do morning afters, sweetheart.”

And you agree that his profile is clear about his intentions, but that doesn’t mean you can condone his shitty behaviour.

“Well, sorry that I expected just an ounce of respect instead of getting kicked to the curb after you stuck your dick in me,” you grumble, shifting back to the show and crossing your arms.

“Morning afters lead to attachments, and attachments lead to feelings, and feelings lead to relationships,” he says the string of words clinically, as if it’s a mantra that he lives by.

Your eyebrows knit together as you whip your head towards him once more, studying him.

“And what’s so wrong with that?”

Deliberately averting your gaze, Jaemin grates his tongue between his teeth, a slight tsk audibly heard, and his chin juts out. There’s definitely a story behind his ways. He huffs and changes the subject.

“Seriously?” He holds a hand out. “You’re watching this trashy show?”

Squinting your eyes at him, you could probably interrogate him further, but you decide otherwise.

“It may be trashy,” you concur, looking at the TV. “But it’s my trashy comfort show.”

Following an over-the-top acted out scene between the show’s main love interests, Jaemin shoots up from the couch.

“Yeah, no, I can’t handle this. Can we either put on something else or game or something?”

“Why don’t you go back to your room to game, Mr. I’m-Not-Bored?”

“Like I said, I gotta keep an eye on you,” he says while bending over in front of the TV, already setting up the Playstation. He tosses you a controller as he strides to his side of the couch again.

He mumbles to himself, “Need to make sure you don’t go crazy from the lack of human interaction.”

Either Jaemin is selfish and only looking out for himself, or he wants to make sure you’re not feeling lonely in a stranger’s home.

Likely the first reason, you deduce—because why would a guy like Jaemin care about a mere one-night stand?

Admittedly, you’re not the best at games, especially at fighting ones. You can comprehend the move lists, but you like to live by button smashing the controller and repeating moves over and over.

So it’s hilarious when you beat Jaemin every round with your surprisingly fruitful technique.

“Okay, this is bullshit,” Jaemin complains, sticking his tongue out in irritation. His ass is currently being handed to him on a plate again since you’re almost done killing his character off. “You must be lying to me; you have to be a pro player or some shit.”

Jaemin’s health bar is dangerously low as your character jabs his with a sword. He winces out loud and you snicker.

“Why do you think I always lie about everything?! Dude, you have serious trust issues,” you joke before you steal the opportunity to slice his character. One more hit and he’s done for.

“I do not! I just—nooo!”

You rise to your feet and pump your arms in the air, turning in circles in joy over yet another win.

Sulking, Jaemin eyes your little dance from his end on the couch, but as he watches you more, a feeling balloons in his chest. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Finally coming down from your post-win high, you spot an emerging grin from the corner of your eye, making you pause.

“What?” you eye him suspiciously.

Your suspicion pops the sensation in his chest and, like a fish out of water, his eyes widen and his grin melts away.

“Nothing, uhm.” He ruffles his eyebrows and palms the back of his neck, quickly facing the TV. “Let’s go one more round and then we can switch to another game—”

Suddenly, the TV and surrounding lights switch off. Both of you waver your eyes, anticipating for them to come back on, but they unfortunately don’t.

Jaemin rushes over to the window. When he swivels his head towards you, his face darkens.

“Looks like it’s at least the whole block. The streetlights are out too.”

Without another word, he dashes to the linen closet and brings back several blankets. He calmly explains that there won’t be heat since it’s connected to the electricity, so it’d be best to keep warm with the extra layers.

Not wanting to scare you, he doesn’t add the fact that due to the huge windows in the apartment, more unnecessary cold air will come in, but you’re already cognizant of it from your own logic and since the remaining heat dissolves rapidly.

You groan and retreat into the massive blanket over your shoulders, turtling your head.

You can’t believe you’re going to fucking die in this asshole’s apartment on Christmas Eve.

On the ends of the couch in your makeshift blanket jackets, both of you attend to your phones for a while.

From what people and the news outlets are saying, it’s not just the block, but the whole city grid is out. You frantically text your friends, giving updates on how you are and half-jokingly telling them that you’re going to die with your dreadful one-night stand. Some time passes and Jaemin tosses his phone off to one side.

“Well, since there’s nothing else to do and we should probably conserve our phone batteries—” You glance up at him from your phone and pout. Slowly nodding in agreement, you toss it aside too. “—why don’t we play a game of ‘I’ll-Give-You-Pointers-on-How-to-be-Better-in-Bed’?”

A smile burgeons on his irritatingly handsome face and your eyes roll. At this point, you wonder if the reaction is conditioned into you. “It’ll be my early Christmas gift to you.”

“Wow, so thoughtful, how could I ever thank you?” You drag the blanket closer to your chest in false gratitude.

You think for a serious moment if you really want to go through with this. Hearing Jaemin run his mouth on you unwarranted is already painful, but to give him the go-ahead to do so? Especially criticizing your skills in bed?

You blow out a sigh, noting the slightly visible cloud. You’re grateful Jaemin has thick, downy blankets.

Well, if you’re going to die, may as well know what went wrong, right?

“Fine, but if we’re playing this game, we have to say everything honestly and take the criticism we get.” You point a stern finger. “No rebuttals, just acceptance.”

“Wait.” Jaemin crinkles his face in genuine confusion as his hand peeks out from his blanket.

“You have things to criticize about me in bed?”

Your lips tremble before you burst into laughter. Displeasure is on Jaemin’s tight-lipped face as you laugh for a while, almost keeling over in your blanket ball onto the hardwood floor. “How conceited are you, oh, my fucking God?”

He slices his hand through the air. “I’ve never had any complaints—”

“Because you’re too busy focusing on your own orgasm, you selfish dickwad,” you say as your laughter dies down.

He sits in his snit for a few more moments until he gets over it.

“Fine, fine,” he huffs. Jaemin knows he’s not going to enjoy this, but he’s the one who suggested it. He can’t back out now. “Let’s just get this over with, you go first.”

With your blanket held by your chest, you hop off your end of the couch and shuffle over in front of him where he’s seated. Beaming, you begin.

“Let’s start with foreplay.” Jaemin’s eyes light up with confidence, thinking he’s at least decent with that. You crush his expression as your lips purse and you shake your head.

“Non-existent.”

“What do you mean?! I kissed you as you took off your clothes.”

You stick your free hand out from your blanket, extending your index finger.

“One: you only kissed my lips. You know, there are other parts of me to kiss, like, I don’t know, my neck, my arms, my shoulders.”

You extend another finger. “And, two: it’s weird to not help someone take off their clothes. Like you’re in a super rush to get somewhere or something—”

“We’re fucking!” he cuts in sharply. “This is a one-night stand, not a relationship.”

Closing your eyes and dropping your head, you pinch the bridge of your nose. You sigh in exaggeration.

“Thought we agreed no rebuttals...” you softly sing-say.

Jaemin’s head sinks a little into his blanket. “Sorry.”

Removing your hand, you shrug. “Maybe there’s some rule that I don’t know about one-night stands, so this could be on me.”

You start to aimlessly tread back and forth in front of him, dragging the blanket along too. “But fuck, foreplay is foreplay for a reason. You work your way up to the heat of the moment and it makes sex much better, regardless if you’re in a relationship with the person or not.”

“Next point.” You stop walking and direct your focus on him. Pointing your finger and looking him dead in the eye, you ask, “Do you know what a vagina is?”

He snorts with a simper. “Uhhh, is this a rhetorical question?”

“No, I’m legit asking,” you say with a raised eyebrow and snarky smile. “Because when you went down on me, all you flicked your tongue at was the outside of it, also called the labia if you didn’t know.”

“I’m premed, of course I—”

“Which is great! But you didn’t go any deeper nor did you go near my clit.”

You thrust your finger again. “Do you also know what that is?”

“Yes...” he groans with the flickering eyelids.

You swipe your arm through the air. “Maybe make use of it, and not only when you go down on girls. Even during sex, touching it is great.”

“And lastly,” you continue. “I’ll be honest here, you have a decent dick.”

Jaemin waggles his finger. “So you were lying before—”

“I wasn’t lying,” you retort firmly. “But anyways, you’ve got the stuff, but why don’t you put it to better use?”

With the following words, you attempt to gesture with your body and execute moves as graphic visuals. Jaemin giggles at the sight.

“Vary the speeds and the angle, don’t just slam it in me and go crazy fast from the get-go. Build up to the climax. Jesus, I couldn’t even get close to coming because you’re like a jackhammer from start to finish.”

When you finally finish, Jaemin’s giggles morph into hollow laughs. Frustration is blatant on your face, pondering if he even absorbed a single word you said.

After he calms down, he asks, “Are you done?”

You mumble, “Yeah, I think so.”

The two of you switch places. He shuffles onto his feet with his blanket while you sit back on the couch.

Jaemin pulls the blanket across the floor as he ambles. “Okay, your head game is decent—”

“Excuse you, my head game is strong.”

“Uh-uh, rebuttal,” he points out.

You sigh. Pinching your fingers together, you drag the invisible zipper across your mouth, then wave your hand, allowing him to resume.

“Your head game is decent. You definitely can deepthroat, but—” He mirrors you from before and extends his index finger.

“One: this happened only a few times, but your teeth scraped against my dick, which is why I assumed you were a borderline virgin.”

You fume silently at the accusation, attempting to not speak up with a heap of rebuttals. But he wasn’t wrong—if you teethed on his dick, that’s a classic virgin move.

“But that’s okay, because we already established that you’re just rusty.” Jaemin flashes you a fake comforting smile as he continues to pace. You flash him one back.

“And two—” He holds another finger out. “Don’t be scared to use your hands and stroke me. Give my dick some love. If it’s too wet, just wipe your hands on the bed or something.”

“Okay, duly noted,” you hum. “Next.”

“Don’t be scared to touch me.”

“I touched you so much during—”

He shoots you a glare. You roll your mouth inward, your lips disappearing instantly.

“Your hands were mostly on the sheets, which is hot, but guys like to be felt up too.”

The attractive individual peers up for a second, thinking to himself. “Even hotter when a girl feels herself up during the fucking, but that’s beside the point. Baby steps, just remember to touch the other person.”

Jaemin does a full-stop and faces you.

“And just... don’t fake it.” Distress is evident in his pout. You hate to admit it, but it’s a little cute. He raises an arm and jerks it in the air. “Why do girls fake it?”

“Because guys with egos like you can’t handle criticism,” you reply bluntly.

“What are we doing, having this conversation, hm?”

“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if it didn’t snow in and keep us here together.” You peel a hand away and gesture to the window. “If I walked out of here this morning, you would’ve just fucked the next girl the same.”

He defends himself, “Faking it just feeds our egos.”

“Yeah, well, if I told you afterwards that I didn’t come, what would you do?”

“Try to make you come in other ways?”

Shaking your head, you scoff. “Guys like you aren’t that considerate.”

“You’re right.” He assents, holding his pointer finger against his chest. “Because guys like me aim to please.”

A brilliant thought leaps in his mind and Jaemin gasps. You can only assume bad things from the wicked smile he sends your way.

“Why don’t we try it again?”

Perplexed, you squint at him.

“Try what again...?”

“Sex,” he says enthusiastically.

You blankly stare at him.

“You’ve gotta be joking,” you deadpan.

“I mean, there’s nothing else to do and it’ll keep us warm.”

You continue to stare at him until you groan.

“Oh, my God...” Your blanket droops a bit off your shoulders as you drag your palms across your face. “I cannot believe I’m stuck in this snowstorm with you out of all people...”

Sitting next to you, Jaemin persistently reasons with you. “Think of it also as another learning experience for the future partners we’ll have.”

“Yeah, if we don’t die first!” you shriek.

“We’re not going to die,” Jaemin replies in a mocking tone and a dart of his tongue.

Outside the window, the snow seems to have slowed down, but not by much.

God, Jaemin better be fucking right because you want to live to see another day.

“Fine,” you mutter and match his gaze. “But we have to be vocal throughout the whole thing. Say whatever’s on our mind.”

“Fine,” he agrees to your terms. He produces the same wicked smile again. “But can we film it then? So we can study it after?”

You fire him a death glare that melts his face off, even in the frigid atmosphere.

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he says, waving his hand.

They say that jokes are half-meant true, but you think Jaemin fully meant it. Still in your blanket jackets, Jaemin snags your free hand and leads you to his room.

“You gotta give me credit for trying, though.”

“No.” You shake your head with an unwilling smile creeping on the edge of your lips. On second thought, maybe the joke was a little funny, but you still stand by your opinion that he’s the most annoying person in the world. “I don’t think I will.”

“Thank God Chenle has so many scented candles...”

On the edge of Jaemin’s bed, huddled by the blanket, you watch him light up several large jars, placing them on his nightstand and desk in hopes to brighten the room. It’s already late afternoon, but one could mistaken it for nighttime with the muddy sky due to the snow.

“Is Chenle your roommate?”

“Yeah,” Jaemin answers with a slight shiver, igniting the last candle near the bedside. He removed his blanket when he went to nab the matches and candles. “His girlfriend gets free ones from work, so she always gives him a shit ton, even though he never uses them.”

With a glowing hue against his face, he blows out the match. He makes his way to you, a cocky grin plastered on him, as he says, “Guess we’re making use of them now, though.”

Before you can even respond, Jaemin gets right down to business—sitting beside you on the mattress, he palms your face and drags you in for a kiss. You softly yelp, but immediately reciprocate.

The cover falls off your body as you reach to touch him, fingers drifting over his solid arms.

You don’t want to stroke his large ego, and maybe it’s because you haven’t had anyone else on you in a while, but Jaemin’s kisses are something else.

The cushiony pair of lips always executes enough pressure against your mouth, increasing and decreasing on command in perfect tandem and timing. His hands hover over your waist and the nape of your neck, fingers sinking into your hot skin.

His mouth trails downward the side of your neck. You crane your head back, indulging in his caresses as soft moans trickle out.

He gently signals for you to recline back and lay onto the mattress, moving the sea of blankets aside. Inclined on his elbow, almost atop of you, his cool fingers glide under your top layers, his thumb stroking against your stomach.

Pulling away from your body, he tugs on the ends of your clothes. You rise from the bed to better the angle for him to discard of them.

The hairs on your skin are standing on end from the frigid air, but you’re too focused on Jaemin’s mouth migrating over your upper arm and your bra-covered chest to care. Without notice, he stuffs a cup of the bra to one side and takes your bosom into his mouth.

Air’s seized from your lungs and your core contracts from the pleasure. Your fingers tug on Jaemin’s luscious locks and his free hand squeezes your unoccupied breast.

After a few twirls of his tongue and a gentle drawing of his teeth on the pointed tip, he mumbles hotly into your chest while he thumbs your other nipple, “Foreplay still non-existent?”

“It’s better, I guess,” you sigh with fluttering eyes. His chuckling reverberates against your cleavage, a sign of amusement from your obstinacy. A gasp pierces the room as Jaemin repeats his actions onto the other breast.

He aids you in taking off the rest of your clothes and, obviously aware of your goosebumps and shuddering, tells you to get underneath the blankets while he strips himself.

Under the toasty ocean of layers, despite how both of you are bare-boned and how easy it is to jump into the main act, Jaemin purposefully continues to prolong the foreplay. Side by side, your lips meld endlessly; your legs and hands are intertwined in an amorous pretzel.

Jaemin ensures he doesn’t leave any part of you untouched—the pads of fingers virtually graze over every inch of your body. Each grip and drag of his digits sends you in a frenzy. Your chest is pressed into him and your eyes are blinded with desire.

In the back of your mind, you think about how you were right about foreplay working up to the heat of the moment—literally, because you’re dripping, he’s hard, and you two have embraced so much that you don’t need the blankets anymore.

On the other hand, you wonder if Jaemin was right about skipping foreplay, because with every whisper of each other’s name, the intimacy rises immensely. You don’t know him, and neither him with you, but you’re both freely drowning in one another in a plane beyond the lust.

Although the room’s beginning to smell of a mix of all the scented candles, Jaemin hones in and drinks in your sweet aroma and your entirety behind his hazy eyes and already tousled hair. All of a sudden, one drag of his fingers over a particular sensitive spot on your body makes you giggle.

“I’m ticklish over there.”

“You mean right—” He drums his fingers over the area again. “—here?”

With a toothy grin, he generates more suffering from you and you begin to lively howl. Soon enough, you beg him to stop.

“You’re such an asshat, c’mon, let me live!”

When he ceases, his head hangs over yours and your gazes connect.

The same feeling blooms in his chest from before in the living room.

He gulps as his eyes waver over your face, unknowingly tracing your beautiful features and etching them into his memory.

Your starry eyes. Your glowing aura. Your everything.

You barely register the change in his expression because he quickly tramples on his moment of weakness by kissing you passionately.

Jaemin whips the blankets aside as he lowers himself between your legs. Your eyes are fixated on him, matching his stare, until he starts to devour you by swiping against your lustrous folds. Your back bows, and, following a few more licks, Jaemin makes a point of his knowledge of the vagina by spreading your lips and ravishing your pussy, tongue penetrating deeply.

Rippled moans release in harmony with your undulating chest. You swear you’re getting more wet, too wet, likely making it overwhelming for Jaemin, but he’s eagerly lapping every drop up.

“How’s that?” he inquires with a grin, hovering over your trembling nether lips. His mouth is evidently glossy, even under the dim lighting.

“Good,” you pant in the most nonchalant tone you can muster up. “Very good-ahhh—”

Jaemin kindly interrupts you by tonguing your clit as he fingers your sex deeply, shattering your fake indifference.

“Move your tongue up more,” you direct, creasing your eyebrows in despair. He follows your direction, and droning moans ensue.

Jaemin’s immersed in your pleasure, but also adding to his own. The more he laps up your wetness, the more he grinds his length against the bed, aching to be inside of you.

Your desire pulses faster, contracting tighter against his fingers, body winding tensely by the second.

“Fuck, Jaemin,” you whine, leaning your head to one side with a parted mouth. “I’m close.”

He draws back and temporarily replaces his tongue with his thumb.

“Good,” he pants, cocking his head to one side. His eyes are filled with determination. “Because I’m not stopping until you come at least two more times tonight.”

You exhale a light laugh. “That’s ambiti-ohgodohgod—”

His tongue works wonders on your clit once more, so much that he has to brace your bucking hips.

Okay, maybe Jaemin did learn a thing or two and actually listened to what you said during your critique.

But now it’s time to demonstrate to him what you’ve learned.

You don’t need much of a break to catch your breath, nor do you want to immediately freeze due to inactivity, so you pull Jaemin in for an intense kiss, tongue dipping into the remnants of your own nectar, then beckon for him to take your former place on the bed.

Perched on the bottom of your feet, you’re on one side of Jaemin, lackadaisically fisting his prominence. After a few strokes, you gradually swallow his inches, keeping in mind to relax your jaw and to not rush in order to avoid any potential teething. You do this to prove yourself worthy of giving head, but also in spite, because you absolutely do not need Jaemin to brand you a virgin again.

You read his quiet groans and his long fingers running lazily through your hair as a positive sign and advance further.

Carefully, you rest your tongue beneath the underside of his cock and bob your head, licking him until he’s sopping with your saliva. His grip in your hair grows in strength as his length reaches the end of your throat, his groans becoming more and more drawn-out.

A needy whimper leaves him as you suddenly withdraw. Dribbles of your spit follow, and you wipe it off with the back of your hand.

“How am I doing?” you glow in a pant, lazily stroking the doused shaft.

He simply nods with half-lidded eyes, barely able to look at you. “Yeah.”

You snicker at him in his breathless position, a prickle of pride running through your spine over the fact that you blew his mind as much as you blew his dick.

“Use your words, Jaemin.”

Teasingly, your fingers curl around his blunt head, soothing the sensitive tip and sending jolts throughout him.

“Fuck—” he pulls his bottom lip upward. “Awesome. You’re doing awesome.”

“Anything to critique?”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head restlessly. You revel a bit more in having the upper hand on him a little while longer. You grip him tighter and hasten your speed, leaving him gasping for air.

“Am I still rusty?”

“Nope, nope,” he croaks, voice rising to a whine. “Definitely not rusty.”

“You sure?” His cockiness has transferred over to you.

“Yes, yes—fuck, slow down, please,” Jaemin begs.

Granting his wish, you abate your rhythm and free his inches from your touch.

You wipe your hands on the sides of the bed while Jaemin rummages through the drawer of his nightstand and hastily rolls over the rubber over himself before he prepares to enter the body beneath his.

Recalling your advice, Jaemin mindfully starts off slow. You sigh blissfully in sync to his thrusts. He adjust himself, attempting another angle, and you draw in air between your teeth.

“There, there—“

Jaemin’s quick-witted and keeps at it, plunging a bit more vigorously. Out of habit, your hands grasp onto the bedsheets, but you wittingly attach them to his frame. Hands grazing his neck, his firm pecs, and his taut muscles.

“Touch-touch my stomach,” he orders in a hush.

You hands follow through and feel up the flexed valley of his abs. Feeling up evolves into desperate gripping and even the slight dragging of your nails.

“Your abs are so fucking hot,” you state thoughtlessly, eyes eating up the view alongside his cock disappearing in and out of you. “Jesus, fuck.”

“Yeah?” he rasps with that devilish smirk of his. God, you want to smack it off him, but not right now—not when you’re reaching euphoria. “You’re not just saying that?”

Oh, you’ve definitely stroked his ego now, but there’s no turning back. Truth spills from you on a whim.

“You’re a fucking masterpiece,” you gasp acutely.

You’re starting to wither away, yet, as if they have a life of their own, your hands drift away from him and find a new home atop your breasts.

“You make me feel so good, Jaemin...”

Jaemin’s eyes go wide. His mouth hangs at the lewdness of you touching yourself.

“Fuck, holy shit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave your ecstatic face or humming body for a second as you knead your breasts and tweak your nipples between your fingers. Your back arches further when Jaemin deepens his sweet, fulfilling thrusts. He’s holding himself back, not wanting to end this beautiful deed just yet.

The stimulation bursts over your body, both from your own doing and Jaemin’s.

You plead, “Faster, please, faster.”

And he complies, but he also rubs your bundle of nerves, causing a tight knot in you to build up and your shallow moans transform into heavy screams. You clasp onto his back and claw at the protruding shoulder blades.

“I’m-I’m—”

You clench, both with your core and your nails digging into him, but Jaemin’s unrelenting, capturing your second peak for the evening.

Instead of coming after you, he shockingly veers lower and closer to you and curbs his pace.

“Was that real?”

You respond with an exhausted nod. Oddly, the smile he shows this time isn’t arrogant, but warm and teetering the line of tenderness. His lips fuse with yours before they stray towards your neck. The passion stews as he sucks your tits, all the while lunging laxly into you.

With an obscene pop!, Jaemin removes himself from your nubs.

“Ready for the last round?”

His fast thrusts, hitting you precisely in the best spot, cloud your already weakened logic, deterring you from making any response.

Perspiration is blatant on both individuals. For him, his forehead glistens gorgeously with his damp hair. For you, the back of your bent knees are gluing together. Your bodies are about to pass out, but you both persevere until the end.

As you convulse and perish together in beautiful agony, coincidentally enough, the bulbs in the room and in the streets leap to radiance.

Together, you collapse onto the bed side by side, panting heavily and laughing.

“Told you we weren’t going to die.”

You turn your head to see Jaemin looking at you with a cheeky grin. In retaliation, you stick your tongue out.

By nighttime, it’s finally stopped snowing outside. However, the streets won’t be cleared until morning, at the very least.

But... you’re surprisingly okay with that.

In a turn of events, the sex inexplicably makes the two of you warm up to each other. There still is targeted banter and tension between you, lingering from before, but it’s less hostile and more playful.

During a fancy Christmas Eve dinner of microwavable pizzas, you poke fun at each other’s majors and discuss your respective hobbies in depth, especially his love for photography. Jaemin even asks if he can take a picture of you, claiming that the kitchen lighting actually looks nice on someone for once.

“Is that how you collect the memory of your one-night stands? Instead of hanging their skins in your closet, you sweet-talk your way and keep all the photos of them?” you joke, referring to the video call from yesterday night. It feels like an eternity ago, but snowstorms tend to do that.

He chuckles behind the camera as he snaps a photo of you scrunching your face cutely.

“Yeah, but you’re the first one who has clothes on,” he says, glancing down at the photo on the camera roll.

“Ugh, gross,” you cringe and take a sip of tea.

Jaemin doesn’t add anything further. He leaves out the fact that he never keeps any traces of his one-night stands, that you’re the first girl he’s taken a picture of in a while.

After a few hours of more talking and even some gaming with one another, sleep is much needed. Jaemin offers an extra toothbrush and a sweater and pair of sweats to sleep in. You’re facing each other on his bed, noses almost touching.

“It’s been a while since I haven’t had sex with a girl before I slept next to them,” he whispers, adjusting himself comfortably. The side of his face rests on his piled hands. “It’s kinda nice.”

You cover your mouth as you yawn, then lay your hand back under your head, reflecting the same position as Jaemin.

“You know, it might be my sleepiness talking, but maybe you’re not the worst person in the world to be stuck with during a snowstorm.”

A lovely chuckle echoes in your ear. “I’m glad you’ve had a change of heart.”

After a few moments, your eyes are fluttering to a close until he softly calls out your name.

“Hm?” you stir awake, but not by much.

“Do you...?”

Jaemin doesn’t know what’s gotten to him, doesn’t quite understand why the defences he built for so long are crumbling down in only a day of knowing you.

And yet, something urges him to give it a chance.

Blowing out a shaky sigh, he anxiously intertwines his fingers with yours. You hum softly at the action and a small smile blooms on your face.

“Do you want to go on a date with me sometime?”

“Hm?” His question doesn’t take you aback as much as you would be if you were fully awake. But even in your drowsy state, you have quips in hand. “Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, wants to go on a date?”

“Yeah,” he replies gently, brushing your loose hair out of your face.

Another yawn. “I thought you said you don’t want feelings and relationships and all that shit.”

His fingers trace your pretty jawline and shrugs. “One date doesn’t mean we’re going to be in a relationship, I’m sure you know that.”

You pause for a good two seconds, but the two seconds feel like forever for Jaemin.

“Mmm, fine. One date, just one.” You barely hold up your pointer finger. “And only because it’s Christmas tomorrow. ‘Tis the season to be giving...”

Relief washes over Jaemin in the form of a smile. Embracing the blatant feeling in his chest this time, he plants a light kiss on your nose and wishes you sweet dreams, even though you’ve already fallen soundly asleep.

Sunlight pours over your eyes on Christmas morning.

Déjà vu peculiarly creeps up on you, but the only thing that’s the same as yesterday is waking up in Jaemin’s bed.

He’s next to you this time, deep in his peaceful slumber, instead of waiting for you to leave by his doorframe. The snow has finally stopped, and you think you hear the faint noises of snow plows outside. You inhale deeply and also notice the faded aroma from all the scented candles from last night.

The scenes of yesterday flicker across your mind. The incredible sex. The talking. The dinner. The interlocking of his fingers with yours.

The date he asked you out on.

You stare at him, watching him sleep with a sense of content.

Turning your body, you routinely check your phone, which is charging beside his. You have a slew of Merry Christmas texts from several chats and a few private messages from your friends.

Your attention falls on Jaemin’s phone when it lights up with a notification, likely texts from his friends and family too.

But that’s not what you’re focusing on.

Your heart sinks at the sight of his lockscreen.

It’s a picture of him and a girl kissing.

A twinge emerges in your chest and twists harder and harder.

Jaemin being a fuckboy, you can respect. People can do whatever they want with their lives.

But to cheat?

That’s unforgivable, and a true sin if there ever was one.

You scramble to dash out of there, careful not to make any noises in fear of waking Jaemin up. However, Jaemin’s sensitive to the sounds of the front door, so he rouses awake. His eyes flit open, noticing how you’re gone. He then sees his phone blowing up and adds two and two together.

With his phone in hand, Jaemin rushes to get on a coat and stuffs his feet into his boots, not giving a shit that he’s wearing his thin pajamas in the coldness. He’s bounding down the flight of stairs and onto the bright, white wonderland of the streets.

He swivels his head and catches sight of you almost past down the block, slowly trekking through the thick snow. Jaemin sprints, as much as he can, and hops towards you.

He yells your name, making others on the street turn, but you don’t. You continue forward without looking back.

“Wait! I can explain!”

You’re trying to gain speed, but cardio isn’t your friend. Thankfully for Jaemin, it’s a close friend for him.

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it, Jaemin,” you grunt, hearing the rapid crunching of his shoes coming closer. “Get lost.”

“No, listen to me for a second.”

The boyish man grasps you by the arm and turns you around. You throw his arm away from you and he holds his hands in the air, letting you know that he respects your space. He drops his hands and sees that you’re seething, even worse than you were when he kicked you out yesterday.

“How are you going to explain your lockscreen with you kissing your fucking girlfriend?! Hm?”

“Ex,” he pants in clarification. “Ex-girlfriend.”

Your eyebrows mesh together in utter confusion.

“Okay? That doesn’t make me feel any better, knowing that you’re still hung up on your ex.”

Jaemin shakes his head and rakes a hand through his hair. You note the large clouds he exhales and how he’s barely wearing any clothes. A tinge of sympathy passes through you, wanting to give him some of your clothes for extra layers, but you smother that quickly in your state of rage.

“I’m not hung up on her. Remember you asked me yesterday why I don’t want girls to stay the next morning?”

You cock your head impatiently, as if saying, “Yeah.”

“Well, I don’t want to attach myself to girls. I can’t. I...”

He lowers his head to one side. Shutting his eyes, a long puff emits from his mouth.

“She cheated on me.”

The snow plows in the distance can’t compare to the pumping of your heart in your ears. All the feelings you felt in the last day, but especially in the last fifteen minutes, jumble together in your head, making you feel uneasy and unsure of what to exactly feel or comprehend of the situation.

But you do know one thing, despite the fact that you two barely know each other, the pained look on his face is real—that this is the untold story behind his ways.

Jaemin lifts his head and holds out his phone for emphasis. “The lockscreen serves as a constant reminder that dating and feelings will and can fuck me up.”

Carefully, he steps a little closer to you and slowly cups your face in his shaking hands. You don’t pull away nor is there the same anger from moments before, so he daintily runs his thumbs over your cheeks.

“Until you showed me yesterday that maybe I’m willing to give it all another shot. Risk it all for fuck knows what, but you make it look like it’s worth it.”

He continues his ramble after adjusting some of your hair from the ongoing breeze.

“Sure, it’s Christmas today, but I don’t want you to say yes to going on a date with me just because it is. I want you to say yes because maybe you like spending time with me just as much as I like to spend it with you.”

You’re completely disoriented—your eyes are shifting everywhere but his eyes and your lips are quivering with no words coming out. He sighs understandingly.

“Look, I know you’re probably having second thoughts and you don’t have to give me an answer right now. Think on it for as much time as you need, but I want you to know that I genuinely like you and I want to go on an actual date with you.”

He peels his hand away from your face and raises it into the air as if taking an oath.

“I, Na Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, will devote to monogamy once again if it means I can date you.”

His hands grab yours, kisses the back of them, and then he presses one kiss onto your icy cheek prior to walking away.

“Merry Christmas,” he says with a sad smile. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

Later that evening at your large family’s Christmas party, you take another dreadful gulp of your wine.

It’s the happy holiday season, but why does everyone feel the need to stick their nose in your dating life? Well, really, a lack there of.

“Why are you still single?” Layers of their voices resound the same question in your head. You take another swig.

Potential unsaid answers that you kept to yourself fly around as you swish the drink in your glass.

Because you choose to be.

Okay, not really, but it’s the easiest answer.

Because you haven’t found the right guy to get you back in the game.

What does that even mean? What makes the right guy even right?

The right guy? It’s someone who makes you laugh, someone who gives as good as they can take it, someone who wants you just as much as you do.

The cogs move in your head as you take one more sip before you finally come to the conclusion—

Because you didn’t find the right guy until last night.

Despite the mess of today and yesterday morning, you realize that Jaemin is... actually sort of sweet. Annoying, yes, but he keeps you on your toes. It’s a plus that he’s easy on the eyes, but it’s a bigger plus that he’s even easier to talk to.

And if he can find it in his scorched heart to trust you, you can find it in your heart to trust him too.

You quickly say your good-byes to your family and let them know you have other plans with friends tonight.

As the Uber rolls up to his apartment building, you realize you probably should’ve messaged him on Tinder, but it’s worth a shot to see if he’s home. Anyways, impulsiveness is a controlling entity, as evident from your Christmas Eve Eve’s adventure.

And in retrospect, perhaps Jaemin was the perfect pick of the crop after all.

Someone’s entering the building and lets you in behind them. You take the stairs two at a time and hear booming music coming from his floor. At first, you assume it’s from other apartments, but it’s all coming from one—his.

Without a thought, your knuckle taps the door.

A handsome figure that’s definitely not Jaemin opens the door. Behind him, you see a group of young men scattered around the living room, and some have a few girls tucked under their arms.

The man eyes you up and down with a spark in his eye. He’s not Jaemin, but he surely reminds you of him.

“And who might you be?” he asks.

“Who’s at the door, Jeno?” An unknown male voice hollers in a high pitch from the couch. He’s one of the guys with a girl attached to him.

You blink. “Uhm, I’m—”

“She’s with me!” Jaemin shoves the flirty stranger aside and tugs you by your wrist, making headway to his bedroom. He flips the light switch on and the door clicks shut.

“What are you doing h—”

You cut him off with a kiss.

An innocent one, at first, with hints of alcohol on each other’s lips. Your arms wrap around the other and the passion increases with the mingling of your tongues, each party tasting and confirming the specific drinks you both consumed tonight.

Jaemin forces himself to pull away and presses his forehead against yours. “Did you just come all the way here to kiss me, or...?”

“Maybe I came over to ask... if I can stay with you for another night?” you playfully ask, fingers intertwining behind the nape of his neck.

He chuckles heartily. His fingers sink into the sides of your waist. “Is my dick that great? The sex with me that amazing?”

“Mmm, that’s definitely a benefit,” you agree, fluttering your nose against his. “But I want more than that—“ You poke a finger to his chest. “—I want the man behind the dick.”

Your gazes converge, bringing you together as one.

“I want to go on that date with you. I want you, Jaemin.”

He flashes a megawatt smile that could compete with a million Christmas lights, but it fades suddenly and you’re unsure why he seems like he’s about to bawl his eyes out.

“That’s so beautiful, I might cry.” He brings a finger to his eye, pretending to shed a tear.

Oh, yeah—you’re definitely going to need to hire someone to constantly shove your eyeballs back into your sockets if you’re going to date Jaemin.

“Oh, shut up,” you whisper, yanking him in for another kiss.

Three dates later, including a memorable New Year’s Eve, you finally decide to rid of the Tinder app for good.

With his arm around you on his living room couch, Jaemin glances over your shoulder.

“Really? You’re finally deleting your Tinder?”

You snort in disbelief. “That’s gold, coming from the King of Tinder himself. When did you delete?”

He turns to face the television and shrugs coolly.

“Maybe I didn’t.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you,” you nod, eyes still on your phone.

“Nah, I’m kidding, I did.”

You sharply turn your head.

“No way. When?” you press with narrow eyes.

A shy smile emerges on Jaemin’s face as he picks his pants over his thighs.

“On the night of Christmas Eve, after you agreed to go on a date with me.”

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dreamlover31 · 3 years ago

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Love Wilder Than The Wind

Summary: you and Rafael rekindle the love that brought you together

Warning: fluff/smut

Tagging: @thatesqcrush @madpanda75 @laceybellerain @teamsladsandgents @alwaysachorusgirl @madamsnape921 @witches-unruly-heart @prurientpuddlejumper @abschaffer2 @storiesofsvu @melk917 @lannister-slings-and-arrows @beccabarba @itsjustmyfantasyroom @skittle479

The drive back to your apartment was filled with nervous excitement, at least for you. The snow was still falling by the time the uber pulled up to the building, being the gentleman as he was, Rafael opened the passenger door for you and led you inside once the driver received payment plus tip.

After ascending up five flights of steps and scaling down the hallway, the two of you reached the front door, upon entering you brushed off the white powder from your coat while Rafael did the same. He took both of your coats and hung them up on the rack next to the door, still playing the role of a gentleman. You nervously smiled and then ventured into the kitchen.

“I’d offer you a nightcap but I had to get rid of the booze”

Rafael lightly chuckled, “Whatever you’ve got is fine with me”

“How about some hot chocolate?”

“Works for me, plus the weather’s right for it”

You nodded and grabbed the k-cups of hot chocolate mix and planted them in the coffee maker, meanwhile, Rafael made himself comfortable on the couch in the living room. Within a few moments, you were pouring the steaming liquid into two individual mugs and bringing them into the living room where you placed them on top of the coffee table.

At that moment a thought had occurred, you grabbed your phone and attached it to the speaker system set up on the console table that sat across the room. You opened the Spotify app and scrolled through your playlist until you found the right one.

The music of Miles Davis flowed through the apartment creating a calm and cozy atmosphere. Subsequently, you joined Rafael on the couch and began sipping on the hot cocoa and basking in the comforting silence that followed.

Halfway through the song Stella by Starlight, Rafael wordlessly stood up and reached out a hand towards you, your soft, delicate palm interlocked with his as your body rose up to face him. He pulled you into his embrace and the two of you began swaying in a stationary circle whilst the song continued playing, your hands made a home along his shoulder blades, meanwhile, your head rested on top of it.

It was almost too good to be true, you and Rafael in this moment being reacquainted with one another, your fingertips played with the hairs on the back of his neck as you took in the warmth of his body mixed with the woodsy scent of his cologne and a scent that was uniquely his.

Instantly, your body melded figuratively along with his, then as the song reached its end you perked your head up and met his gorgeous green eyes, you leaned in and placed a soft kiss upon his lips, to which he instantly returned.

At first it was innocent but as time went on, the kiss deepened, both of your respective tongues mingling together; suddenly you found yourself ending the passionate exchange before it escalated any further.

Heavy breathing emanated from both of you, in that moment you cradled Rafael’s face, stroking his bearded cheek with your thumb. Following his earlier lead, you took his hand and to lead him into your bedroom, another soft kiss graced his lips as you began to undress him.

One by one, you removed an article of clothing, from his white button down shirt to his dark slacks until he was in nothing but his boxer briefs. You were about to remove your shirt before Rafael stopped you, he then began to mirror your movements until you were left in your lace underwear. From there, you crawled on top of your bed and laid yourself upon the soft pillows in your wake, you beckoned Rafael to join you.

He laid down beside you, his hand weaved through your hair and cupped your face, then your breath hitched as his thumb glided across your lips. Rafael gasped when you bit on the pad of his thumb and then captured your lips into his again, you snaked your arms around each other while your other limbs became entangled.

Rafael’s lips created a path downward where his beard tickled you as he left wet kisses along your neckline, he became more confident by your moans and giggles so he kissed and sucked along the swells of your breasts leaving hickeys in their midst.

You reached behind and unclasped your bra, slowly and with nimble fingers he removed the soft fabric from your body and tossed it aside. When he slipped one of your nipples into his mouth, you tilted your head back and moaned as he began to tease the hardening bud while simultaneously massaging the other breast.

The heat of your body coincided with the wetness you began to feel in between your legs, Rafael continued his descent towards where you wanted him most, his long thick fingers hooked into the waistline and pulled down your lace panties, then as if acting on instinct your legs spread open.

Rafael’s erection pressed against the mattress as he breathed in your scent, he was about to close in on your center when you lifted his head up.

He looked at you curiously, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing…I just need you inside me now”

Rafael nodded and crawled back up your body, he was quick to remove his boxer briefs and aligned himself with your entrance. He rubbed his crown, collecting your wetness before sliding inside, you gasped at the feeling of his thick cock splitting you open, when you clutched onto his back he took notice.

“Are you ok, do you want me to stop?”

“No, I’m ok…it’s just been a while so go slow”

“Of course”

Rafael eased his way inside you until your body yielded to him, he pulled out slowly until the tip remained and then thrusted himself back in. Your hips rolled along with his until you reached a rhythm, a symphony of heavy breathing and moans eclipsed the room, never had you experienced the level of pleasure that Rafael had given you before the separation.

He was the only man that ever made you feel like a goddess in and out of the bedroom and wasn’t afraid to teach you new things, you could feel your orgasm approaching closely, your legs wrapped around his waist and the heel of your foot pressed against his shapely ass indicating that you were close. He reached between your sweat covered bodies and began rubbing your clit.

“Oh God…I love you Rafael”

“I love you too Y/N…come for me”

You screamed as your nails scratched along his back, the force of your orgasm was so intense that you could see stars behind your eyes, within seconds you could feel Rafael following behind the feel of his seed splashed along your cervix.

As you both were coming down from your highs, you began trembling and felt warm tears spring from your eyes. When he heard a sniffle, Rafael lifted his head and looked upon you with concern.

“Y/N what’s wrong, did I hurt you?”

“No Rafael, I’m just happy…I’ve missed you so much”

He smiled softly as his lips kissed your tears away, in that moment, you were both reconnected not only physically but spiritually as well. Rafael gently turned you over to where you were facing each other and then reached for the covers to pull them over you, you snuggled up to him, laying your head upon his chest and the feeling of his heartbeat began to lull you to sleep. He pressed a kiss on your forehead before reaching over to turn off the lamp on the nightstand, within seconds he was sound asleep.

#rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #law and order svu

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hanniiesuckle17 · 4 years ago

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All I Want For Christmas

A/n: so this started off as a blurb......then i got carried away.......so.......happy christmas everyoneeeee also HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO MY SECRET SANTA GIFT PARTNER !!!!!! (also this is not thoroughly edited I'm soso sorry )

For: @hansoulmin HAPPY CHRISTMAS BABY!!! I was your secret santa! I hope you like it!

Tag List: @ashisparanoid @mini-meanhoe @leggomylino @hanstagrams @desertofdessert @hoes4hoseok @yangomangos @jeonqqin @geminirules @crscendoforsung @mrsunshine999 @jisungsjheekies @hannie-squirrel00 @cotccotc @kodzu-ken @konenichi @yangs-jeongin @strykiss @skzwriternet

Warnings: cussing, lots of sexual tension maybe...idk

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: Minho and Y/n have never gotten along for reasons unknown to anyone. After circumstances arose, Y/n is stuck with Minho driving him up to the cabin the boys rented. It seems that things go terribly wrong at every turn as Y/n is kept from her long desired Christmas vacation. Will she be able to change Minho’s mind about Christmas....and possibly his view on her?

Genre: Christmas au, enemies to lovers au, fluff, romance, slice of life au, forced to share bed trope, Fem reader

❅

Out of all people, the universe seemed to only choose you to throw misfortune on. You were nice. Some might even call you kind and selfless! You were by all means a good person! So why? Why out of all the eight other people going on this vacation did you have to stay behind a day and drive Satan’s spawn up to the cabin?

Lee Minho was a grown man of twenty two years. He should be able to drive himself! Also what was his deal? The rest of the boys had cleared their schedule for a week and a half of Christmas vacation.What was so important he had to delay your winter getaway as well?

The frigid winter wind bit at your skin, latching onto the soon disappearing warmth. You rolled your eyes watching the coat clad form of Minho come down the stairs of the entertainment building at a painstakingly slow pace. You had no clue why, but ever since you met, Minho had been nothing but cross and hateful towards you, and it seemed like he had no intention of changing.

“Y/n.” Minho said coldy, tossing his duffel bag into my arms.

“Satan.”

‘Clever.”

Deciding to be the bigger person, you securely placed his bag along with yours in the trunk and walked over the the driver’s side. The door slammed shut as Minho sunk into the passenger seat. “This is going to be a long ride,” you mumbled.

An hour into journey and your prediction was already coming true. The two of you sat in awkward uncomfortable silence. Minho stared out the window seemingly unphased by the unwieldy tension. “Should I turn on some music?” You asked, reaching for the radio.

“No. It will just make things uncomfortable.”

You scoffed, retracting your hand. “I don’t see how it can get more uncomfortable than this.” Minho rolled his eyes turning to look at you.

“It will be annoying for me when you start singing along to the radio and I have to tell you how utterly shit your voice is.” There was no hiding the scowl on your face. Your grip tightened on the steering wheel. Only five and half more hours with this asshole.

You sighed, glancing over at the man in your car. He was messing around on his phone, completely ignoring you. It was like the conversation you had only a few seconds ago had never happened. “Look. I know you hate me and you definitely aren’t my favorite person either.” No response came from Minho. He simply rolled his eyes. “What was so important that you had to delay my Christmas vacation? Don’t you like Christmas? What possibly would be worth setting back such an amazing holiday?”

Hearing no response you looked over at Minho in question. He was looking out the window with a rather pointed scowl. “Not everyone loves Christmas.”

“What? Everyone loves Christmas! Christmas is the best time of the year!”

“Well, not me. I don’t like Christmas.”

“WHAT?!”

You turned to him eyes wide. “Hey! Eyes on the road!” Minho grabbed the steering wheel and jerked the car back into the right lane. “What’s so wrong about not liking Christmas?” Light snow flurries began to fall on the windshield. “Christmas is just another stupid holiday. There’s nothing special about it. Plus it’s cold.”

“Maybe you really are satan....” You mumbled under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.....I just can’t believe you hate Christmas...”

❅

Two painful hours later you were driving your impossible passenger down a long stretch of snow filled road. The windshield wipers screeched as they pushed snow off the glass. The storm had really picked up as you drove further out of the city. The roads were icy and you did your best to keep your old run down car from drifting.

“How much longer?” Minho sighed, resting his head on the cool glass.

“Quite a bit-” BANG!

Suddenly, it was much harder to control your car. You felt a rumble in the back wheels. Minho shot up in his seat. “Wait- what the fuck is going on?” Easing your foot off the gas, you pulled over onto the side of the empty road.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no!” Hitting your steering wheel, you tried to hold back your frustration. Tears pricked at your eyes, begging to spill over. There was no way you were going to cry in front of Lee Minho. Couldn’t one thing go your way this year? As if this wasn’t bad enough, a loud bang came from your engine and smoke started spilling from the hood. “Fuck...”

Defeated, you let your head fall onto the wheel. A long continuous blast came from the car horn. Minho grimaced, covering his ears. “Can you like....stop?” You turned to look at him. Feeling even more dejected under his gaze you lifted your head, ceasing the blaring noise.

Taking a moment to gather your emotions, you blew out a shaky breath. “Just....stay in the car, I guess. Not like you’re gonna help anyway.”

Jerking open the car door, you stepped out onto the snowy road. Deciding to look at the hopefully less damaged part of your car, you wrapped your coat further around your body and walked to the back of your car. Just like you thought, the rear left tire was completely blown out.

“I knew my car was shit, but I thought it was going to last at least another two years.”

Now it was time to face the music, or rather the smoke. Snow falling at a fast pace, you shuffled through the cold and around to the front of your car. Raising the hood more smoke rose into the winter air. Looking around you saw it was getting darker. You had told Chan you and Minho would be at the cabin the boys rented by dinner time. It was already six o’clock.

A quick glance under the hood was enough to tell that this car was going no where. Brain trying to solve the prediciment you somehow ended up in, you crouched down and attempted to come up with a way out of the situation. So deep in thought, you didn’t even hear the sound of the passenger door opening and closing.

“I’m assuming you can’t fix this.”

Looking up you saw Minho standing over you. His hands were stuffed into his coat pockets and white snow flurries floated onto Minho’s dark brown hair. “Do you just assume I’m useless at everything?” Minho rolled his eyes. The man turned around and opened the trunk. He returned with your bag as well as his.

“Come on.” Not even casting a glance your way, Minho tossed your bag at your kneeling figure. The momentum sent you falling onto your butt, the wet cold snow immediately seeping through the one warm layer you were wearing.

“Where the fuck are you going?”

“There’s a hotel a couple miles away.” Minho said holding up his phone.

Pushing yourself off the ground you grabbed the bag and hurried to catch up with the sulky hateful man who was already walking further into the snowfall. “Are you serious?” You questioned, trying not to slip on ice. “Hey- Minho! What the fuck, dude?”

“Come on, idiot. Keep up.”

“Minho! Wait up!”

❅

The sky was almost pitch black by the time the two of you made it to the hotel. Whether it was from the snow clouds or time you weren’t sure. Minho had not bothered to wait for you. He was already through the sliding doors of the building before you had reached the hotel’s driveway. “Selfish jerk.” You mumbled, dragging your bag through the rising snow.

You did your best not collapse as you were embraced by the warm heating in the hotel lobby. Minho was brushing the show from his hair as he confidently approached the front desk. The clerk greeted him with a friendly smile.

“Hi. We need two rooms please.”

Her smile faltered a little bit. “I’m so sorry, sir.” She wrung her hands together, keeping that hospitality smile on her face. “With the snowstorm, almost every room is booked.” Minho sighed, casting an annoyed glare your way.

“Are you sure?”

After catching your breath, you joined the singer at the desk. The lady typed away on her computer. Looking over, you could see red boxes by all the rooms she scrolled through. “I’m so sorry, sir. But all but one of our rooms is booked.”

“We’ll take it.” You jumped in, eager to have any relief from the storm outside.

She smiled and Minho grumbled something under his breath. “Okay then. Here is the key to our Honeymoon Suite. It’s on the fourth floor at the end of the hall.” There was no stopping the blush flooding your cheeks.

“H-honeymoon suite....?”

“Yes. It’s our last room.”

Minho snatched the key card from the woman’s hands. “You’ve already said we’ll take it. Stop blubbering and get your stuff.” Grabbing his duffel, Minho began walking towards the elevator with no intention of waiting for you.

The concierge looked at you with pity. “You’re boyfriend isn’t the nicest...is he?”

With a scoff you replied, “Believe me, Minho is not my boyfriend.”

Rushing through the lobby, you squeezed through the elevator doors just as they were closing. Minho remained silent as you both rode up to the fourth floor. Your wet feet against the plush carpet was the only sound to be heard as you walked to the end of the hall.

Before he could slide the keycard, Minho scowled at the heart engraved on the door. The happy beep and green light prompted him to push into the room. His scowl deepened as he flicked on the lights.

Even with the lights turned on, the room was cast in a warm dim glow. There was only one bed, shaped like a huge heart with rose petals strewn across the duvet. Your eyes widened seeing a tall metal poll in one corner of the room, red light shining down on it. Subsequently a similar color grew on your cheeks. The whole room was lavishly decorated and had several interesting adult objects lying about.

“This is.....”

“What? You can’t handle a little atmosphere, Y/n?” Minho taunted with a smirk. He tossed his bag onto a chair, seeming to enjoy your embarrassed state.

You sat on the bed only to jump up and scream feeling it move beneath you. “It vibrates?! What the fuck! Who makes a bed that vibrates?!” Minho chuckled, possibly the first time you had ever seen him give anything remotely close to a genuine smile.

“Not kinky are you, Y/n?”

You froze. Your hands gripped tightly onto your bag and you pulled it higher to cover your chest in embarrassment. “Regardless, there is no way I’m sleeping on that thing.” He shrugged and flopped onto the bed, rose petals flying into the air. He looked rather comfortable, completely unphased by his surroundings.

“Suit yourself.”

Cautiously, you sat on the plush couch holding your bag like a teddy bear. This was certainly not how you imagined your Christmas. You were so looking forward to spending Christmas with your friends. Decorating the tree. Sitting by the fire in the rented cabin. Eggnog with slightly too much rum. Giving gifts you spent way too much of your paycheck on. Now you were stuck in some hotel sex dungeon with the devil spawn. What a Happy Christmas it was turning out to be.

❅

After getting used to the room, you showered and changed clothes to leave Minho to do the same. While he cleaned up, you phoned a nearby auto-shop and asked them to tow your car in and fix it. Finally able to resolve the stressful phone call, you let your head fall into your hands. Minho exited the bathroom rubbing his hair with a towel.

Just as you were about to tell him the only slightly good news, the lights shut off. Both of you looked around in confusion. “Minho, did you do this? Is this some kind of prank? Cause, I’m not afraid of the dark.” He shook his head and grabbed his phone from off the dresser, using it as a flashlight.

It was then you noticed that the room was getting colder by the second. Rubbing your arms, you shuffled over to your bag and grabbed a cardigan. A knock sounded at the door. Sighing, Minho answered it.

“Ah- Mr. Lee! We are so sorry about the inconvenience. It seems the powerlines have frozen over and the hotel has lost all electricity.” A man wearing a bellhop uniform said. Hearing the news, you came to stand next to him. “We are doing our best to get our generator up and running. It seems our heating system is also down.”

“How do you expect us to stay like this?” Minho asked with a cold stare. The man shrunk under his gaze.

Slapping Minho’s shoulder you pushed him aside. “Stop being a grinch. Thank you so much for letting us know.” The man nodded and pulled a blanket from a nearby cart. You flinched awak from his cold hands as he passed it to you. The poor thing. He must be freezing walking around the halls in his uniform.

“Here. This extra blanket will help. The hotel will also discount your stay.”

“No, take the blanket. We’ll be fine. You need it more than us. Thank you for doing such hard work!” The man smiled and thanked you profusely before you closed the door. Turning, you found Minho looking at you strangely. “What?”

He looked you up and down before scoffing and turning away. “You’re just so nice to everybody. You’re so gullible.”

“Gullible?” You couldn’t believe him. “I’m not gullible. It’s called being nice. Have a little Christmas spirit will you.”

He rolled his eyes, dragging a hand through his damp hair. “I already told you. Keep all that Christmas bullshit to yourself. It’s all just an excuse for the tinsel and ornament industry to make money off losers like you.”

There was no convincing him otherwise, so you simply watched as he pushed back the covers of the bed and climbed in. “Fine. Be a grinch or a Scrooge or a Hans Gruber for all I care.”

“Hans Gruber?” Minho questioned, head popping up in the dark.

“Die Hard is a Christmas movie too, okay?”

You were shocked to hear a chuckle come from the big heart shaped bed. Sure, you must be imagining things, you took down a rather thin blanket from the closet and headed to your spot on the couch. Your barefeet flinched at every step on the cold hardwood floor. Curling up into a ball on the sofa, helped your body temperature rise a little bit, but you still froze with the tiny blanket you used. Eventually, you fell into a cold restless sleep.

❅

You awoke to some shuffling in the room. Assuming Minho was getting up to get a glass of water or something you tried to go back to sleep. But, you were puzzled as you heard his footsteps come closer to the sofa. Unsure what he was doing, you pretended to be asleep, wrapping the blanket more around your shivering body.

“I’m only doing this cause I can’t sleep with all that teeth chattering,” Minho whispered under his breath. “It’s not like I care...”

Suddenly you felt his long fingers gently reach out for your ankle. Still pretending to be asleep you resisted the urge to flinch away. Brows furrowed and eyes still closed, you tried to figure out what he was doing. Minho tenderly pulled what you imagined to be a pair of his socks over your cold bare feet. Your breath hitched as his soft hands brushed over your skin. He was....being kind?

Hearing movement, you shut your eyes tighter as Minho pushed himself off the ground. “That should be fine.....” He whispered. You waited, but didn’t hear him walk away. “Why am I even bothering...” Again it seemed like he stayed. After another moment of silence he shifted.

Surprisingly, you felt his hands reach under your legs and behind your back. He lifted you into the air and pulled you into his chest, carrying you as if you were the most fragile thing he had ever touched. Minho moved across the room before gently placing you on the bed. The covers were pulled up to your chin and you felt him tuck in the fabric around your body. You were shocked to say the least.

Surprising you further, Minho climbed into bed next to you. His arm cautiously wrapped around your stomach and pulled you flush against his warm chest. You were feeling very conflicted for many reasons. Deciding to test just what was going on, you turned around, eyes still closed, and hugged onto him tighter. You buried your face into his chest. He froze obviously contemplating what to do.

Hesitantly, like his body was stuttering, he let his arms fall around you in an embrace. You found yourself....content. His scent was comforting. He smelled like amber and some sort of spice you couldn’t quite name. Just as you were about to fall asleep, Minho sighed and let his fingers tenderly stroke your hair.

“This doesn’t mean I like you....” He whispered. There was something in his voice that made you not believe his words. You didn’t have time to think about them, because you were soon lulled into a deep sleep.

❅

The next morning you woke up to soft white light streaming through the hotel curtains. Minho was still asleep next to you, fingers still tangled in your hair. The room around you was cold, but your body was nothing but warm in Minho’s arms. You smiled remembering Minho’s kind action last night. Not knowing how he would react you decided it might be best if you weren’t in the room when he woke up.

Each time you moved, you were sure the man was bound to wake up. Finally you swung your legs over the side of the bed. You smiled, looking down and seeing his gray warm socks on your feet. Your eyes widened as realization passed through your mind.

Did you like Minho?

Looking over at Minho’s sleeping face, you felt your hears start to beat faster. Grasping at your chest, you tried to still your literally beating heart. This was not a problem for now. Minho could wake up any second and you didn’t really want to confront these possible feelings with him awake.

Sliding into a pair of the hotel slippers, you shuffled to the door, rubbing your arms to keep warm. Slipping the keycard into your cardigan pocket, you closed the door quietly so as not to wake up the sleeping singer just yet.

“Oh- I am so sorry!” Someone said, bumping into you.

“It’s fin-...Hey, I know you!” You turned to find the bellhop from the night before. “Has your shift not ended yet?”

He shook his head, shoving his hands in his pockets. “The roads are icy, plus they have everyone staying because of the power situation.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. He seriously was a hard worker. “By the way, we got our back up generator working, but there seems to be something still wrong with the heater.”

“Don’t worry about it! Minho and I were fine last night so I’m sure the other guests were as well.”

He chuckled. “You’re really nice. You’re like walking Christmas spirit.” You smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Oh- the kitchen staff managed to scrap together our usual breakfast service downstairs. You should go check it out. It was nice talking to you, Mrs. Lee! Merry Christmas!”

“Oh- I’m not...” But it was too late. The bellhop was already swiftly moving down the hall.

Deciding to move past the conversation, you headed downstairs to the breakfast buffet. The lobby was full of Christmas decorations; something you had missed last night in your urgent desire to get a room. It made you smile. A reminder that Christmas Eve was tomorrow.

Following the delectable odor of breakfast food, you wandered into the buffet area and built two plates for you and Minho. Balancing the full platters of food like a professional circus performer, you journeyed back up to the room. By some feat, you opened the door and entered the still freezing room.

Minho sat up in bed, still looking half asleep. “I...I- uh... I brought breakfast. I wasn’t sure what you liked so-”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll eat anything warm right now.”

Wearing a nervous smile, you sat down on the bed across from Minho and handed him a plate. The two of you ate in semi awkward silence, this time for a very different reason. “So-”

“About last night...” Minho started, rubbing the back of his neck. “I-...I-...you're teeth were chattering pretty loud and-”

You smiled, stopping his train of thought. You could practically see every word he had planned to say leave his brain. “You don’t have to say anything. Thank you, Minho.” The boy nodded, hair falling into his eyes as he looked down at the plate of food.

Another silence followed only slightly less awkward. “If you don’t mind me asking,” Minho’s head raised at your voice. “Why do you hate Christmas so much?” He sighed, shoving a sausage in his mouth and chewing on the savory food.

“I just never really got the whole Christmas thing. My family never celebrated. Every time we try to get together for the holidays everything just seems to go wrong. Just like how things are going now.” He scoffed picking up another sausage.

“Okay...I can respect that. But...you’re hatred of Christmas seems to be more than that.”

Minho rolled his eyes. Contradicting his actions, he reached over and placed a piece of his toast on your plate. “It’s just....I don’t get it. Like, explain to me what is so great about Christmas.”

You set your plate down with a grin and ate the piece of toast Minho gave you. “I don’t know. I just get this warm feeling around Christmas time. I love seeing all the love that people share. There is just something about Christmas that brings people together. It’s beautiful everywhere and everything is just bright and happy.”

Minho smiled watching you talk. You rambled about all the things you loved about Christmas, from making snowmen to decorating the tree, to watching people unwrap their gifts. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something about the way you spoke that made his stomach twist in knots.

At some point you stopped talking and noticed the dazed look on his face. “Did you even listen to me?” You looked down at your lap, slightly disappointed. Not liking the frown on your face Minho quickly nodded his head.

“Yeah, of course.”

Before he could remedy the tension he accidentally created, your phone rang pulling away your attention. Minho watched you get off the bed and walk away to answer the phone. Your back turned, he started beating himself up about not paying full attention to what you were saying.

“So, Minho,” You said turning to face him. “That was the auto shop. They said we should be able to pick up the car tomorrow afternoon. Thankfully we’ll be able to see the boys on Christmas Eve!”

Minho smiled, watching your face light up at the good news. “That’s great.”

❅

After two nights in a hotel, you were finally pulling into the driveway of the rented cabin. It was gorgeous! The huge vaulted roof was covered in snow and the warm wood stood out against the blanketed white backdrop. “Minho,” You said slapping his arm to get his attention as you parked the car. “Look how pretty this is!”

He looked up from his phone, first looking at your bewildered grin, then the lodge in front of you. “Yeah,” You stared in wonder at the place you would be staying for the next week. “Really beautiful.” Turning you found Minho already looking back at you. For some reason, just the way he was looking at you had your stomach doing somersaults.

Pushing your hair behind your ear, you attempted to calm the heat on your cheeks. Both you and Minho awkwardly laughed and looked away from each other. Pressing your hands to your cheeks, you tried to pat away the blush like an idiot.

“THEY’RE HERE!”

Suddenly, seven rambunctious boys stampeded out of the house and came bounding through the snow to your now fixed car. They pounded happily on the windows and had you not known them, the event would be absolutely terrifying. “Guys, let us out of the car!” Minho shouted with half a laugh.

Eventually, you were dragged into the cabin by the idols and hugged until your faces turned blue. The inside was even more beautiful than the outside. Everything was made out of wood and there was practically a wall of huge windows overlooking the snow covered forest.

“What took you guys so long?” Jisung asked hanging off your arm.

You sighed, ruffling his fluffy hair. Minho watched with a pointed stare. “Well, my piece of junk car broke down and so Minho and I were stuck in a freezing hotel honeymoon suite. but, now we’re here and I cannot wait to start our Christmas vacation!”

“Woah, woah, woah, woah. Back up. Honeymoon suite?” Chan asked with raise brows, looking between Minho and you. The look stopped when Minho made a slice motion across his neck. “Well....um...guys I hate to break it to you, but there's only like 5 rooms and the rest of us have already paired off.”

The band collectively ‘oo-ed’ and started jokingly shoving Minho around. “Think you lovebirds can survive without biting off each other’s heads?” Jisung said jokingly. Obviously he was kidding, but you were blushing more in the last hour than probably ever in your life.

Thankfully, Chan noticed your embarrassed state and ushered everyone away to let the two of you settle in. Christmas Eve with the rest of Stray Kids was quite possibly one of the greatest nights of your life. By the time everyone retired for the evening, it was almost midnight. Your room was smaller than the hotel suite but shared the commonality of having....one bed.

While Minho was in the shower, you snuck downstairs to get a better look at the tree Hyunjin, Chan, and Jeongin had put up the other day. The lights twinkled on the real tree that was standing tall in the living room. A fire was raging in the fireplace. The glow of the flames reflected in the red, gold, white, and green ornaments.

The tree reminded you of the one your parents used to put up when you were little. Feeling the urge to act childish you crawled on your hands and knees until you could lay down under the tree and look up into the lit branches. Resting your hands on your stomach, you smiled looking up at the shiny glass orbs.

“Y/n?” Minho called out into the wide expanse that was more than an excuse for a living room. “You in here?” Turning your head, you watched his sock feet come down the stairs two at a time.

“By the tree,” Through the branches you watched him approach the large Christmas tree.

Minho chuckled and kicked your leg lightly. “Whatcha doin’ down there, idiot? you look like the Wicked Witch of the East!” He soon regretted the comment as a swift kick was directed at his unprotected calf. “Ow!” He exclaimed, rubbing his leg. “But, really, what are you doing down there?”

“You never did this as a kid?” He shook his head. The strong smelling fronds obstructed most of his face from your view, but you could make out the glint of his round spectacles in the firelight. “Come here!”

Letting out a sigh with an intention you couldn’t decipher, Minho got on all fours before crawling to lay next to you under the Christmas tree. His shoulder brushed up against yours, making your skin tingle. “What’s the point of this?” He whispered after a few moments of staring at the lights.

Shrugging, you answered, “I don’t know. When I was little, my parents fought a lot. I used to walk down in the living room and lay under the tree. Sometimes I would pretend all the little lights were stars and I would wish for a Christmas miracle hoping maybe that this year they would stop fighting. Or at least fight a little less.” As you spoke, you watched the ornaments and colorful Christmas lights sparkle and twinkle. “Some years it worked. I really did get a Christmas miracle.”

“I think you were the Christmas miracle.” Minho said turning to look at you.

“I doubt that.”

“Well...you’ve made me not...not like...Christmas. I’d say that’s miracle quality.”

You laughed, reaching for his hand on instinct. His eyes widened, but the boy let you grasp onto his fingers. “Minho, you really aren’t so bad. I feel like maybe I just didn’t take the time to get to know you.” Minho grinned. You felt like it may have been the lights, but a rosy dust filled his cheeks.

“Yeah, well....like I said. You’re my Christmas miracle.”

You were at a loss for words. Minho shifted his fingers to interlock with yours. “Can- can I kiss you?” He asked with baited breath and furrowed brows, eyes trained on your lips. If you weren’t sure of his feelings, you knew now. Fearing your voice would betray you with any attempt to speak, you nodded and looked through the glass lenses into his deep brown eyes. They were softer than you had once thought.

Slowly leaning over Minho pressed his lips against yours. That warm feeling returned to your stomach and slowly traveled until you’re whole body felt like it was glowing. Minho kissed you under the twinkling colorful lights of the tree, earasing every other bad thought or thing he had ever said to you before. He pulled away as the grandfather clock in the hall struck twelve.

“Merry Christmas, Minho.” You whispered, his lips still inches away from yours.

“Merry Christmas, Y/n.”

❅

“GOOD MORNING CHRISTMAS LOVEBIRDS!” Hyunjin screamed, bursting into the room you and Minho shared. He shrieked seeing the two of you, legs tangled together under the sheets. With sleepy eyes, Minho sat up and tossed the pillow you were using at the blonde’s head.

“Minho! That was my pillow!” Groaning, he just laid back down and pulled you into his chest, letting you use his arm as a headrest.

Chan pulled Hyunjin from the floor shaking his head at the drama queen. “In all serious, guys, Jisung, Felix, and Jeongin are very eager to start opening presents so get your butts downstairs.” Minho raised his arm to shoo his leader away. The door closed returning you to your original state of privacy.

Minho kissed your forehead, snuggling back under the warm duvet with you. “You know this is the first Christmas morning I’ve been excited to wake up. This time I’m just excited to see you though.”

“Never would have pegged you for the cheesy type, Lee Minho.”

He chuckled, leaning down and capturing your lips in a kiss. You were unable to keep the smile from creeping up your face. “We should get down stairs. The boys will be missing us.”

“Fiiiiine.” He grumbled, pushing himself off the bed. Slowly, your body still waking up, you swung your legs over the side. Before your barefeet could touch the ground, Minho’s hand once again wrapped gently around your ankle. He smiled up at you, kindness in his dark brown eyes. Tenderly, his long fingers slid a warm pair of his socks over your feet. “My Christmas miracle can’t have cold feet, can she?”

Smirking at your blush, Minho took your hand and led you out of the cabin bedroom. You joined the rest of the boys around the tree, Jisung already tearing open a gift and Seungmin passing out presents. Minho found the last empty spot on the couch and pulled you into his lap.

“You too seem pretty cozy,” Changbin stated, with a knowing look on his face.

Completley oblivious to the conversation, Jisung chimed in. “So, Minho, did you finally figure out what you want for Christmas? Shopping for you was so hard!” Jisung groaned, holding his new gifted plushie in his arms.

“I gues all I want for Christmas this year is Y/n.” Minho said with a smile. He leaned over and kissed your cheek, not afraid of any of the boys making fun of him apparently.

“SO I SHOULD JUST RETURN THE $475 JACKET I BOUGHT YOU HUH?”

❅

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raibebe · 4 years ago

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Genre: Fluff Words: 6.879 Prompt: best friend Yangyang x female reader + “Stop hogging all the blankets!” Warnings: MC is an oblivious idiot, Yangyang is a sweetheart, mentions of injury

A/N: What do you mean Valentine’s Day was on the 14th and not on the 24th? Seems fake. AnYwAys: This was written for the Candy hearts collab hosted by @127-mile. Thank you so much for giving me an excuse to write for my precious brezel baby. Thank you @ncteaxhoe for the lovely header after I went almost crazy...

Taglist: @byunniebaekhyunnie

“You’re going on vacation with Yangyang?” “Yes.” “Your best friend?” “Yes.” “To an abandoned cabin in the woods.” “First it’s not abandoned, just very far out and second I don’t see where you’re going with this.” “Well are you?” You sighed loudly, rolling your eyes at Donghyuck who was sat in front of you in the library where you had met to have a little study session before you were leaving for the weekend. “Yes I am.” “On Valentine’s Day.” “It’s just because it’s on a weekend and it was cheap.” “You do see where I am going with this, right?” “I am not Donghyuck,” you rolled your eyes. “You’re literally the most stupid person I have ever met and I am friends with a bunch of idiots,” your friend whined, throwing the straw wrapper from his iced americano at you. “Hyuck what’s your problem? We’re literally just both stressed out from classes already and he found that offer that’s within both of our budgets. Nothing wrong about two friends chilling in a secluded cabin.” “Have you seen the freaking cabin?” Donghyuck whisper screamed, earning him a hiss from one of the students sitting on the table next to you. “I have, Hyuck.” “Then you might have missed the fact that this cabin coincidentally has a hot tub but only one bedroom?” He went on, waving his phone in front of your face where he had pulled up the website advertising the cabin. Groaning, you faceplanted into the books that were scattered around you. “Do you see what I mean now?” Donghyuck hissed, scrolling through the pictures on the website. “Hyuck listen. Yangyang and I are both kind of short on cash so the bigger cabins just weren’t going to make it if we wanted that hot tub. So we agreed that we could sleep in the same bed for a couple of nights, no big deal. Pretty sure you’ve done that with Mark, Jaemin and Jeno as well when you four went on spring break vacation.” “Don’t distract from the topic, that was entirely different,” Donghyuck mused but the slight blush covering his cheeks was betraying him. “Is it though?” You asked, a shit eating grin on your face. “When did this conversation turn into you commenting on my poor live choices?”

“Discussing Hyuck’s poor live choices? My favorite part time activity,” another voice joined into your conversation and Renjun plopped down next to his friend on the bench. “Can you smell my misery or something?” Donghyuck groaned, slumping back into his seat, dramatically staring at the high ceiling. “I wish I could,” the Chinese laughed, loudly slurping his iced drink of choice despite the chilly weather outside while completely ignoring the glares some of the students were shooting him, “No, I was supposed to meet Yangyang to give him my car keys but you’ll do.” With that he threw his keys onto the table. “It’s parked by the student center, should fit all of your stuff.” “Thank you Renjun,” you smiled, pocketing his keys. “There is a chance though that I am out of gas,” he grinned. “I knew there would be a catch,” the familiar voice of your best friend groaned before he plopped down next to you, loudly dropping his backpack onto the floor which again had people to glare at your little group. “I swear to god you’re going to get us kicked out,” Hyuck hissed, throwing Yangyang and Renjun disappointed glares. “Not like you were studying anyways,” Renjun rolled his eyes. “What were you doing?” Yangyang asked, flipping through the pages of one of your books. “Well I was trying to get a head start on my essay,” you groaned, “But Hyuck had other plans.”

“Exactly. Which brings me back to my point,” Donghyuck grinned, turning towards Yangyang, “Yang, so did you, by any chance notice that the cabin you’re staying at this weekend with your best friend on freaking Valentine’s Day conveniently only has one bed but features a hot tub?” “Oooooh,” Renjun mused, leaning forward into his elbows. “Well... We were short on money but wanted a hot tub?” Yangyang slowly answered, blushing under the intense gazes of both of his friends. “See Hyuck it’s exactly what I told you,” you groaned, “No big deal.” “Sure, just two friends sitting in a hot tub, five feet apart because they’re not in love,” Renjun sang. “The original sounds better,” Donhyuck said flatly. “Yeah but the both of them are disgustingly straight,” Renjun shrugged. “You make that sound like an insult,” Yangyang snorted and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Anyways!” Donghyuck interrupted a little too loud, causing one of the students working in the library to actually walk over to your table to ask you to leave.

“Well great,” you groaned when you snuggled into your thick winter jacket once you were outside while Renjun and Yangyang couldn’t hold in their laughter anymore. “You guys are the worst,” you said and rolled your eyes even though you couldn’t stop the smile on your face from spreading. “You love us,” Donghyuck laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulder, “We weren’t gonna get anything done anyways.” “And we still need to pack,” Yangyang added, “Also I still need the keys to the car.” “Catch,” you called and quickly threw the keys over to your best friend that Renjun had given you earlier, laughing as he struggled to catch them. “Treat her gently,” Renjun laughed, “Oh and she needs gas.” “Why did I expect anything else,” Yangyang groaned but pocketed the keys, “I’ll pick you up after your morning classes?” “Sure,” you smiled. “You’re leaving me alone in our literature class?” Donghyuck gasped, dramatically holding his heart. “Listen, it’s either listening to professor Quian all afternoon or drive to the cabin early, Hyuck. What would you do?” You giggled. “Fair,” he shrugged, “But I still feel betrayed.” “Yesterday you felt betrayed by that pizza place because you found one stray piece of pineapple on your pizza,” Renjun helpfully added. “That was an attack on my health,” he hissed, pointing his finger at his friend and roommate, “Pineapples do not belong on pizza.” “I am not having this discussion again,” you groaned and slipped out of Donghyuck’s grip, “I gotta pack my stuff.” “Yeah, have fun on your totally not couple’s vacation,” Renjun laughed. “It’s not a couple’s vacation,” you and Yangyang immediately shouted, giggling at each other afterwards. “You’re all disgusting, I am leaving,” Donghyuck declared, dragging Renjun with him in the direction of their dorm.

“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” you smiled at Yangyang. “Yeah, I’ll pick up Renjun’s car and get all the stuff inside. Be at your dorm at like 12.” “Sure, I’m really looking forward to this.” “Yeah, me too,” Yangyang said softly, a soft blush on his cheeks that must have been from the cold air. He quickly wrapped you up in a hug before waving goodbye to head over to the student’s center. Sighing you turned in the opposite direction to your own shoebox of a dorm room, skidding along excitedly. You really were looking forward to this vacation with your best friend.

The next day found you buzzing with excitement, quickly throwing the last things that had been missing into your bag before speeding to your morning classes that went by in a blur. In what felt like no time at all, you were rushing down the steps of your dorm to throw yourself into Renjun’s car and your arms around your best friend’s neck to squeeze him in a tight hug. “I’m so excited,” you squeaked once you let him go to heave in a couple of breaths. “I can tell,” Yangyang laughed, handing you his phone that was already connected to the AUX cord, “I spend two hours yesterday to make the perfect road trip playlist, so you better appreciate that.” “This better not suck,” you laughed as he started the car to start your journey.

The way up to the mountains found you and Yangyang singing along to his actually good playlist that included some of your favorite songs, your singing getting progressively worse and louder the higher up you got and the more snow was falling. After you had gotten lost just once or twice on the way to pick up the keys from a lady at the reception who handed you a big basket with rose petals, champagne and what seemed like condoms and lube. Heat had immediately risen to both of your faces and you had stumbled over your words for the rest of the conversation, relieved when you could finally leave and head over back to your car to drive up to where your small cabin was.

“This is so cozy,” you cooed once you had made it inside the cabin, dropping your bag right next to the door to race through the rooms that included a small but clean bathroom and small kitchen with the cutest old school curtains in front of the snowy windows and a door lead outside to where the hot tub was already steaming. The main room that you had come into had a small two-seater couch with a bunch of cozy blankets thrown over it standing in front of a little fireplace that both you and Yangyang were kind of scared to light but you had to eventually because that was all the heat you were going to get. “The bed is huge,” Yangyang exclaimed and the next thing you heard was a loud thump as he had faceplanted right into the mattress, currently starfishing out, his fingertips not reaching the ends of the bed. “But we only have one blanket,” you laughed, flipping up through the layers your best friend was laying on top. “Wait for real?” He asked, eyes wide and scrambling to take a look for himself. “I hope you like cuddling,” you giggled, tackling your best friend onto the bed who just screeched before he tried to get the upper hand in the tickle fight that had broken out.

“Okay, okay, I surrender,” you laughed with tears in your eyes and lifted your arms in defeat when he had you pinned beneath you, his fingers tickling your sides until you couldn’t breathe anymore. “You’re admitting defeat?” Yangyang laughed, all his teeth showing with how bright he was smiling, digging his fingers between your ribs one last time before he fell to the mattress next to you, you both panting heavily between giggles. When you turned your head to look at your best friend, he was already looking right back at you, something unreadable in his expression. For a while you just stared into each other’s eyes, the occasional noise of the wood of the cabin creaking the only sound you could hear. Had Yangyang’s eyes always sparkled like that in the low light? Or was it just more apparent now that he had dyed his hair back to his natural dark brown? You found your hand itching to push his too long bangs from his eyes so you could see them properly, captivated by how the edges crinkled up with how he was softly smiling.

The serene silence was very rudely interrupted by Yangyang’s stomach growling loudly which caused both of you to burst out into another fit of giggles. “I think that’s out cue to put the pizzas in the oven and to unpack,” you laughed, slapping your best friend’s shoulder when he made no move to get up, instead wrapping himself up in the throw blanket. “You’re so annoying,” you groaned and climbed off of the bed. “You love me,” he argued, sticking out his tongue at you. For some reason the easy answer of ‘Yes, I do’ got stuck in your throat and you just hummed before walking over to where you had unceremoniously dropped your bags by the door to get the half frozen pizzas and turned on the oven. What was wrong with you all of a sudden? You two always bickered like that. Screw Donghyuck for getting all up in your head before this trip. Nothing had changed. It was just you and your best friend spending a weekend together. Nothing unusual. That’s what friends did. It’s what Donghyuck did with his friends.

Staring blankly into the oven once you had put the pizzas in, you were lost in your thoughts that twisted and turned inside your head but didn’t seem to make any sense at all. “Are you mad at me?” Yangyang spoke and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, causing you to let out a high pitched screech from how surprised you were. “Don’t scare me like that,” you scolded him, trying to calm down your furiously beating heart. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, hooking his head over your shoulder to look into the oven as well, just wordlessly holding you close. “I’m not mad,” you eventually said, letting the tension seep from your muscles and melting into his hold. Smiling you let your weight sag against him, knowing he would have the strength to hold you up. “Sleepy?” You just hummed nonchalantly even though you weren’t particularly tired but somehow your body felt exhausted. “The drive took longer than expected,” Yangyang agreed, “Let’s just eat and then try to get the fire going. I brought my laptop and downloaded all the episodes of our next season.” “You’re an angel,” you giggled, “I didn’t even think about that.” “I’m not,” he mumbled, hiding his face in your neck. “My angel,” you laughed, squirming in his grip to turn around and pinch his sensitive sides. What you hadn’t expected was him not backing off, so you found yourself pinned between his body and the oven, your faces dangerously close together. For a second or two you just stayed like that before Yangyang’s brain seemed to realize just how close you were, causing heat to rise to his cheeks and him nervously spluttering about how he’d set the table and unpack everything. Something was definitely off between you two but you chose to put it aside for now, not quiet daring to think about it.

Once you both had two steaming plates of pizza in front of you, everything seemed to be back to normal and conversation flew easily just how it always did between the two of you. You would complain about being swarmed with essays and Yangyang would complain about his two roommates who couldn’t be more different from each other which made for a lot of potential for arguments or about how his mother would continuously call him every week to bog him about how school was going, if he was taking his vitamins, if he was still practicing playing his violin, if he had found a girlfriend yet or if he had finally given up on his stupid dancing classes. You were always quick to tell him that he should not feel pressured to drop his dancing to take violin lessons again if he wasn’t passionate about it anymore, no matter how much his mom would nag him about it. You knew that he loved dancing way too much and had made so many good friends in his dance crew to just give it up. So just like every time you gently took his hand in yours to squeeze it reassuringly when you promised him he could live with you if his mother decided to disown him over this. But this time he didn’t let your hand go once he moved on to tell a story on how his roommates had started arguing in the middle of the night because one of them had started to eat snacks which had woken the other one up, this thumb mindlessly caressing the back of your hand.

“Do you really trust me with the fire?” Yangyang asked with a frown on his face as he read through the instructions that were hung up next to the fireplace. “I don’t,” you laughed from where you were washing the dishes in the kitchen, “But if they leave it for us to light, it can’t be too dangerous or difficult.” “I appreciate this incredible amount of confidence you have in me,” your best friend snorted before getting to work to pile up wood and paper and carefully lighting the latter. “I made fire!” He exclaimed excitedly, a bright grin on his lips which immediately made you smile as well. “Now just don’t let it go out,” you smiled, “I’ll go change into comfy clothes real quick.” Yangyang just hummed, carefully adding more wood to his fire so it wouldn’t go out again.

“Yo, I think I got the hang of it,” he announced once you came back to the warmed up living room with snacks and clad in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. “Is that my hoodie?” Yanyang asked when you sat down the bags next to his laptop where he had already pulled up the first episode. “Not a chance,” you replied and plopped down onto the couch to snuggle into the hoodie you definitely hadn’t stolen from your best friend. “It seems oddly familiar though,” he mused but sat down next to you anyways, your thighs touching because the sofa wasn’t particularly big. “I’ve had it for a while,” you grinned innocently, throwing one of the blankets over your legs to keep them warm. “Sure,” Yangyang laughed and threw up the large hood before pressing play on the first episode.

Throughout the episodes you seemed to gravitate towards Yangyang more and more the later it got: First only leaning your head on his shoulder, then he wrapped an arm around you to pull you even closer, followed by you pulling your legs up on the sofa, leaning even further into him until you were basically lying on his chest until it became too uncomfortable and you two shuffled around until he had both of his legs outstretched on the sofa with you sat in between them: your back pressed against his chest and his arms around you. “I could fall asleep like this,” you mumbled when you felt your lids getting heavy, the soft melody of the outro lulling you in. “Don’t though, we’ll be sore tomorrow,” Yangyang laughed, poking your cheek. “Is this your only concern?” “We’ve cuddled like this before,” he just shrugged it off. You just hummed and cuddled closer to his heartbeat, fully closing your eyes. “Yah. Don’t fall asleep on me like that,” your best friend protested, “There is a perfectly fine bed waiting with plenty of space.” “Not my problem your body is like 80 percent stupidly lanky legs.” “Come on, get up.” “But the bed is going to be all cold and it’s nice and warm in here,” you argued. “It’s not going to warm up if you keep clinging to me like that,” Yangyang giggled. “I’m not clinging,” you pouted. “Pretty sure you are,” he laughed, finger flicking your forehead, “Come on, lazy. Let’s get ready for bed.”

Grumbling, you agreed and followed your best friend into the small bathroom with the blanket still wrapped around your body where you two quickly washed up. You had been right, the air in the bedroom was icy to say the least. “We’re going to freeze to death and no one will ever find us, Yangyang,” you groaned dramatically. “They literally have to clean up before the next guests come here, so our corpses would be here for a week tops.” “You’re so good at this reassuring thing,” you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help to smile. “I know,” he grinned, “Turn around.” “What for?” “I’m changing,” he simply stated, already unbuckling his belt. “Oooh.” With burning cheeks, you quickly turned around, clutching the blanket tightly in your hands. In quick succession you heard first his belt and then his pants and shirt hit the floor before he rummaged through his bag and stepped into new clothes. “Done,” he announced and immediately jumped onto the bed to shuffle beneath the layers of blankets. Still feeling shy you carefully dropped the blanket from the living room and crawled into bed as well, leaving a respectable distance to your best friend which was fairly easy with how big the bed was.

“If you’re going to hog all the blankets, I will scream,” Yangyang spoke into the sudden silence that had draped over you. “I bet you’re the blanket hogger,” you snorted and playfully tugged at the blankets to roll them tightly around you. “I swear to god,” your best friend groaned, his feet kicking the mattress in frustration, “I won one tickle fight and I will win again.” Giggling, you let go of your grip so Yangyang could easily pull the blankets back. “Good night, Yangyang,” you whispered. “Sweet dreams,” he whispered back and you could hear him twist and turn for a couple of moments before he found a comfortable spot to sleep in. Smiling you also settled in, pulling the blankets tight around you to not let the cold of the room seep into your cocoon. While thinking of what you would do tomorrow, you slowly drifted off to sleep.

The next morning the unforgiving light of the sun reflected by the snow outside tickled your nose to slowly wake you up from your dreamless sleep but you really weren’t ready to let go of the comfort that a good night’s sleep had given you. It was just too cozy beneath the layers of blankets, the warmth of another person seeping into your bones while outside the cocoon it was cold. Wait. Warmth of another person? That had you wake up way faster than you would have liked, your own body going rigid in the hold Yangyang had on you. “Finally woke up?” He asked, his voice deeper than usual and raspy from sleep. “Y... Yeah,” you hummed, scared to turn around to look at your best friend. “Why are we cuddling?” “Because someone wouldn’t stop hogging all the blankets, leaving me out in the cold to sleep,” Yangyang said matter-of-factly, his breath hitting your neck. Looking around you, you couldn’t help but chuckle, you really had balled up so much of the blanket on your side of the bed in your sleep that part of it had dropped to the floor on your side. “You laugh but I was freezing my ass off half the night,” your best friend nagged. “I’ll make it up to you with breakfast?” “Omelets?” “You’re going to help cutting veggies?” “Nope,” Yangyang said, popping the p-sound out loud. “You’re terrible.” “You left me to freeze!” “Fine,” you groaned and wiggled yourself free from his grip, leaving the warmth of his embrace and the blankets, “But you’re doing the dishes after.” “Sure.”

For the first time today, you turned around to look at Yangyang and you really weren’t prepared for his tousled hair and lazy smile. Your heart clenched painfully in your chest before it made a couple of summersaults. “Morning,” he grinned, burying himself back into the blankets. “Yeah... Good morning...” “Take your time, I’ll shower in a bit,” Yangyang yawned and you couldn’t hold back your own which in turn made him laugh. “Don’t take too long, lazy,” you smiled before quickly freshening up in the bathroom and starting to prepare the breakfast you hast promised.

Somewhere between filling two pans with the eggs and adding the cut up vegetables, your best friend joined you in the kitchen, his hair still wet from the shower and your heart yet again did acrobatics in your chest. What was wrong with you? This was just Yangyang. Your best friend. You had slept in the same room countless of times. You had made him breakfast even more times because he was not to be trusted in the kitchen. So why was your heart all jumpy around him now? Had Donghyuck been right? But nothing between Yangyang and you had changed. You always cuddled up together when you binge watched shows together or had movie nights with your other friends.

“What’s up with you today?” Yangyang asked once you had slid the omelets on two plates and put down a steaming mug of coffee for each of you. “Nothing,” you quickly tried to reassure him but the way he raised up one of his brows was sign enough that he didn’t believe you. “It’s really nothing,” you tried again, forcing a smile onto your face that really wasn’t all that hard to maintain when looking at Yangyang, “I was just thinking about where we should go for our walk.” Your friend just hummed around a mouthful of eggs and pulled out his phone. “I looked something up,” he slurred before swallowing down what he had been chewing, “If we follow this trail, it will take us around the lake which should be frozen and eventually to a little town. If the ice is solid enough, there’s a shop where we can rent skates. And if it’s not we can just stroll around town. To go back, we can take the shorter way back along the road we came with the car.” “I like that,” you admitted as you scrolled through the website Yangyang had pulled up on his phone. The prices weren’t so bad and the scenery looked breathtaking. “Let’s do that,” you concluded, giving your best fried a bright smile.

Even bundled up in your thickest jacket and with a big scarf wrapped around your throat, the cold air outside of the cabin was unforgiving. But somehow you really liked how clean the air was as it prickled through your lungs before you exhaled again, your breath coming out in a little white huff. “I didn’t think it would be so cold, wow,” Yangyang mused as he locked the cabin before walking over to you. “I like it,” you smiled, “Which way?” But instead of an answer all you got from your best friend was a snowball thrown at you, hitting you square in the chest as you turned around to him. “Oh you’re so on,” you grinned, immediately ducking down to scoop some snow up yourself to fire right back. Your loud giggles and shouts filled the otherwise quite air of the forest and you didn’t even feel the cold of the snow and the air seeping into your bones and clothes, all you focused on was to get Yangyang back for knocking your hat off of your head when the face definitely should be off limits. “You little shit,” you yelled, running over to him to dunk his face into the big pile of snow that had gathered in front of the cabin when suddenly you stepped onto a plate of ice, making you lose your footing and the world quickly turned sideways.

You heard Yangyang yell your name before his worried face came back into your field of vision. “Shit, are you okay?” “Yeah, fine,” you crooked out. The fall really had knocked all air out of your lungs and who were you kidding, you would probably get a nasty bruise on your leg from where you had fallen on the unforgiving ice. “Hey, careful,” Yangyang said, taking your hands in his to pull you back to your feet. “Fuck,” you cursed when you put weight on your left leg, pain shooting up all the way up to your back, “I don’t think I can stand.” “Shit, left foot?” You simply nodded and gritted your teeth together as he tried to help you up again, immediately stabilizing you, so you didn’t have to put weight on your injured leg. “I’m sorry,” you muttered as he helped you to waddle back over to the cabin. Great. Now you had not only ruined your day but maybe even your whole short holidays. Yangyang for sure hadn’t wanted to be stuck inside this cabin with you for two more days. “Don’t be. Let’s take a look at that, might be broken or something,” your best friend reassured you.

With awkward little hops, he guided you over to the little sofa in the living room where you had been cuddling all evening yesterday. “Let me take a look.” After shedding your jackets and other gear you had worn to shield yourselves from the cold, Yangyang carefully unlaced your boots with nimble fingers, apologizing every time you winced in pain. “Well fuck. This thing is so swollen,” he announced once boot and sock were off of your foot. “How bad?” You asked with your eyes squeezed shut, not daring to take a look at it. “Hold still,” he instructed you, gently touching the swollen ankle to rotate it carefully which tore a whimper from your lips. “I don’t think it’s broken,” Yangyang eventually announced, “Ten has sprained his ankle during practice before and it looked similar, so I don’t think we need to get you to a hospital right now.” Thank god that your best friend was taking those dancing classes. “On a scale from when you burned your hand while trying to cook ramyeon in milk to whatever your roommate once left in that pot for too long, how gross does it look?” “It’s really not that bad yet,” Yangyang giggled before he let out a fake gag, “Please do not remind me of that pot, it’s a wonder that whatever that was had not grown legs and left the pot on its own accord.”

“Hold my hand,” you demanded, making grabby hands at your best friend where he was sat in front of you on the floor. “You big baby, it’s really not that bad. It’s not even bruised yet,” he laughed but took your hand in his anyways, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Finally opening your eyes, you took in the picture: You ankle was definitely fucked. If you didn’t know any better, you’d guess that it had already swollen to at least three times of its usual size and pulsating with the blood that was rushing to the surface. “Disgusting.” “If we cool it enough and keep it still, everything should be fine,” Yangyang reassured you, giving your hand another squeeze and rubbing your leg with his other hand, “You’re all tensed up. Does anything else hurt?” “My whole leg?” You slowly said but it came out more as a question than anything else. “Let me see.” “What do you mean let me see?” You all but screeched, pulling back your hand to clutch them at your chest instead where your heart was beating in quick succession. “Come on, it’s not like I haven’t seen you in a bathing suit or anything. I just want to make sure it’s just the ankle,” he calmed you down. Why was your heart beating so fast anyways? Yangyang was right. You had seen each other in different states of undress over all the years you had already been friends. But for some reason everything felt different in this secluded little cabin in the middle of nowhere. It was like you were seeing Yangyang in a completely different light. He was not just the funny guy who only cared about hanging out with his friends and having fun; he suddenly seemed a lot more mature here. Weird. The clean air must have already gotten to your head.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” Yangyang spoke again, kneading soothing circles into your still very much tensed calf muscles. “Okay,” you whispered, slowly unbuttoning you jeans, thanking whoever was listening that you had packed and worn nice panties. With combined effort, you wrestled the damp fabric of your jeans from your legs to reveal that your whole left side had already started to bruise up, dark colors bleeding into your skin. “Oh fuck,” you cursed, throwing your head back, “That looks so bad.” You couldn’t help but giggle. “I look like I have been fucking mauled.” “Or like you have a very unhealthy skin condition,” your best friend joined your laughter. But what you couldn’t see was how his eyes darted over the exposed skin, not knowing where he should look first. “I’ll check your knee,” he mumbled once you both had stopped laughing, gently touching your skin. You couldn’t help but hiss when his fingers met your flesh even though he was being gentle. It felt like his fingers left little flames in their wake, leaving your skin tingling. You saw his Adam's apple bob in his throat before he spoke: “Your knee seems fine, but those bruises will turn nasty in an hour or two.” “G-great,” you stuttered, avoiding Yangyang’s eyes while looking down to where his hand was still resting on your knee. “I think I still have some ointment from dance class in my bag that could help,” he mumbled, “I could get that and massage the muscles for a bit in case you pulled something as well.” “Massage,” you repeated, starstruck. “Not if you don’t want to but it might get worse if you’ve pulled a muscle or something if it keeps being this tense.” “I- Yeah. Ok,” you stuttered. “Don’t move.” “Funny,” you grumbled as Yangyang went to fetch his ointment from the bedroom.

“It’s going to be cold,” he warned you when he sat back down in front of you again, lathering up his hands with the strong smelling ointment before he gently pressed down on the muscles of your calf, his fingers working on the knots in your muscle before slowly making their way upwards. You had to bite your lip in order to keep any noise from slipping once his fingers had reached the skin just above your knee. “You’re really tense,” Yangyang mumbled after a while, his fingers itching almost dangerously high on your thigh by now, kneading your sensitive flesh. “Yeah, you’re just. I’m- yeah,” you really didn’t know where you were going with this answer, hyper aware of his fingers on your skin. “Should I stop?” “No, it feels good. It’s just...” “Weird?” “A little,” you admitted, making both of you chuckle awkwardly. “Maybe a little heat would be good as well.” “Y... Yeah.” You really weren’t sure if even less clothes between Yangyang and you would help with whatever this atmosphere between you two was right now. “Let’s get you up and going then,” your best friend smiled and if it was a little less vibrant than it usually was, you chose to ignore it.

Once you were submerged in the warm water, a blissful sound slipped past your lips and you felt all tension that was left in your body leave you, the jets and the warm water effectively relaxing your body and mind. “You good?” Yangyang quietly asked as he submerged himself right next to you, gently pulling your injured leg onto hip lap to prod at the muscles again. “Yeah,” you sighed and closed your eyes, willing your mind to shut up about how he was just your best friend and it should definitively not feel this good when he was innocently kneading your muscles. As all the tenseness seeped from your body, his fingers got more and more gentle until they all but caressed the soft skin of your thigh.

“Yangyang?” You quietly asked after a while when the only sounds between you came from the bubbling of the water and the occasional sound of a bird. Your best friend just hummed to indicate that he had heard you, his fingers stopping to draw random shapes onto your thigh. “Is it weird that I really want to kiss you right now?” At that your friend seemed to freeze, his thigh muscles tensing up where your leg was thrown onto his lap. “N... No, I don’t think so,” he eventually mumbled. “No?” “No. Because I kind of really want to kiss you as well,” he confessed, his dark eyes finding yours and the amount of trust and openness in his eyes momentarily took your breath away. “Then kiss me,” you breathed. “I- I don’t want to ruin our friendship,” he replied but inched closer to you anyways. “It won’t,” you promised, gently cupping your best friend’s jaw and stroking your thumb along his cheekbone. “Promise?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Promise,” you whispered back before you let your eyes flutter closed when your lips finally met in a delicate kiss, barely more than a gently press of lips.

When you separated again, you sighed gently against his lips before pressing another quick peck to them which made your best friend chuckle. “This feels nice,” he whispered. “Not weird?” You asked just to confirm, gently tracing his features with your fingers. “It feels just right.” “Yeah,” you sighed. “More?” Smiling you nodded and connected your lips again, firmer this time but still gently exploring this new territory. Slowly Yangyang seemed to grow more confident and he let his hands settle on your waist to pull you a little closer to him, causing you to softly gasp. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, pressing little kisses to your cheeks and the corners of your mouth until you giggled. “Kiss me,” you demanded, wrapping your arms around his neck so your hands could play with the long strands of his hair before kissing him again. By now you almost sat in his lap, the angle a little weird because of how your leg was still thrown over his lap. But none of you seemed to mind as you took all the time of the world to explore each other’s lips.

After a little while Yangyang broke the kiss to lean his forehead against yours. You couldn’t fight your smile, basking in the feeling of being close to him. This close you could count his eyelashes that were stuck together from the water and admire the blush that sat high on his cheekbones. “I really like you,” Yangyang suddenly confessed, pulling your bodies flush together to hide his face in your neck. “I really like you too,” you giggled, running your hands through his damp hair. “No I mean I like like you. I- I’ve had a crush on you for the longest time,” he mumbled against your skin. With how close you were pushed together, Yangyang must definitely feel how hard and fast your heart was hammering in your chest. What he couldn’t see was the big smile that spread on your lips while you were trying to find the right words to tell him that you felt the same, that he was a very special person to you. “You don’t have to like me back,” he suddenly said, tightening his grip on you, “I know you probably only see me as a friend and nothing else. But if I keep this to myself any longer, I might burst. I just- Please don’t hate me. You’re all I have.”

“Yangyang,” you gently spoke, trying to pry his head from your neck. “I don’t have any courage left to look you in the face as you reject me,” he whined when he wasn’t budging, this grip he had on your waist tightening just a little. “I’m not going to reject you.” “You’re not?” Your best friend immediately straightened up, his face full of surprise. “No,” you chuckled and couldn’t resist to press a quick kiss to his lips, “I think I’m in love with you as well.”

For a while Yangyang didn’t say anything, his mouth just wordlessly hanging open and eyes wide. “I mean it,” you giggled, playfully hitting his shoulder, “Say something, idiot.” “I- I was full on prepared for heartbreak. I didn’t mean to confess until Sunday to not make it awkward. It just. Yeah…” “Why would I reject you?” “You never said anything and whenever I would try to take you out or do something alone with you, you kept inviting the others and simply played my flirting off as a joke.”

Thinking back, you felt like there were scales falling from your eyes when you remembered all the times Yangyang had asked you out to the movies and you had dragged Donghyuck or Renjun with you. Or when you had invited him for movie night and his face fell when he saw Jaemin and Jeno already sitting on your sofa. Or when he had invited you to one of his dance shows and you had marveled about how graceful Ten could dance and he had become all grumpy.

“Holy fuck, I’ve been so oblivious,” you groaned, pillowing your head on his chest that shook with laughter. “I’ll forgive you if you become my girlfriend,” Yangyang gently spoke, combing his hands through your hair. “Yes,” you breathed, your heart fluttering wildly. “Seal it with a kiss?” He didn’t need to say anything else because you quickly pressed your lips together again, hoping Yangyang could feel all your love and you could at least make up for the pain you had caused him.

“Me too,” he whispered against your lips in between kisses, “I love you too, idiot.” “Your idiot,” you grinned. “All mine,” Yangyang smiled brightly. And if you two shared more kisses and sweet giggles beneath the sky in the hot tub next to your cabin, only Mother Nature would know about it.

#yangyang #liu yangyang #wayv #nct #kafenetwork #yangyang fluff #wayv fluff #nct fluff #yangyang imagines #yangyang scenarios #nct imagines #nct scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios

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tefilovesreading · 4 years ago

Text

It’s a match! Part. 1

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x Fem!Reader

Word count: +1,7k

Warnings: language, mention of alcohol.

A/N: This is a mini series, I’m not sure how many parts it’s gonna have and there’s gonna be some texts in between. LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANNA BE TAGGED.

Edited by: @theamazingtomholland

MASTERLIST // PART 2 // PART 3

She felt her hands start sweating as she saw the small circle slowly filling up, letting her know that the app was being downloaded. She knew what a dating app was, how it worked and what was its purpose, but never created her account, not that she needed it before because she had a boyfriend. Her roommate, on the other hand, was well acquainted with dating apps, and they’d spent nights swiping through the profiles together.

Now that she was single for the first time since she graduated from high school, her roommate and best friend had convinced her to download Tinder and have fun.

“You don’t even have to go and meet the guy, Y/N,” Jo had said with a beaming smile to encourage her when they met for coffee earlier that day, “just have a look and see if you find someone you’d want to talk to.”

She nibbled on her lip when the circle filled up entirely and the icon appeared on her screen, bright and inviting. Putting her phone down, she decided she’d create her account later, for now, downloading it was more than enough.

In her sophomore year, she broke up with her boyfriend because they couldn’t find time to be together, too busy with classes, exams, and part-time jobs. But that didn’t last long, ‘cause they got back together after three weeks.

Those three weeks ignited a spark in her, suddenly things were more exciting to her, and she didn’t feel like she was acting how others expected her to. Y/N felt a kind of freedom that made her go on a date with her co-worker, sure they just went for a coffee together once and decided that they were better off as friends, but that small rejection made her want to make that spark disappear.

Being with Lance made things easier, they knew each other since they were little, and that meant she didn’t have to open up to let him know her flaws and fears, because he knew her like the palm of his hand. Being with him made her feel safe, even when they were apart during his first year of college since she was a year younger than him and was still in high school when he left for college, but that safety net vanished when Lance decided he wanted to spend time overseas after he graduated from college. And it was useless to wait for him if he wasn’t even sure he wanted to come back.

Eight months later, Y/N felt that spark reigniting again, making her feel like she was missing something. Ever since Lance left, she spent too much time afraid to put herself out there. How can you let someone into your life and trust them to not hurt you? After all, she trusted Lance for so long just to get hurt because they didn’t want the same things, and their paths went in different ways. But Y/N knew she couldn’t hide much longer, she wanted to go out, have fun, go on dates and meet new people, she just didn’t know how to start.

Her phone vibrated with a new notification from her best friend, and she snorted at her text.

Jo: Any matches yet heartbreaker???

If only Jo knew she still wasn’t able to bring herself into making an account. Maybe she could choose the pictures first, plan her bio, and then create it. Planning that out was definitely better than staring at the app icon.

Y/N: Not yet, but I’ll let you know ;)

After an hour of scrolling through her photos, Y/N chose five pictures where she looked decent. Hell, she looked really hot in one or two of those, and she wasn’t going to act as if that wasn’t true.

“Here goes nothing,” she muttered to herself after her account was finally set up.

It was a strange feeling swiping through the profiles, reading their bios, and rolling her eyes at some of them. But after a few minutes, she started enjoying it, not even feeling bad if she didn’t match with a guy.

She smiled at the simple bio on her screen and swiped right, not even bothering to go through his other photos. He was cute, he seemed like he liked to have fun, and even though he was cute, he was also hot. A dangerous mix, but a really nice one.

It’s a match!

“Honey I’m home!” her best friend sang, entering the living room.

“Shit Jo!” Y/N scolded the girl, “you scared me.”

“Why?” Jo faked an offended look, “were you sending dirty messages or something?”

“Oh shut up,” Y/N said, handing her phone over to her friend with a sheepish smile on her face, “check out my last match.”

“Okay, so he likes outdoor activities, he plays the guitar, and he has a cute smile,” her friend listed, swiping through his photos, “what are you waiting for, Y/N? Send him a message!”

“I was actually waiting for him to send one first,” she admitted, feeling her cheeks heat up, “you know I suck with conversations over chat.”

“But what if he’s waiting for you to talk to him, and you don’t do it,” Y/N looked at her friend and knew she was already making up a whole movie in her head, about how they could be soulmates, but they would never know if she didn’t send him a text.

“Fine!” She huffed and took her phone from her friend’s hands, “Do I send him a hello or what?”

“No, that’s too dry,” Jo replied, “you should ask him about where he took that picture, the one where he’s in the snow.”

She bit her bottom lip to distract herself from the fact that she felt as if her stomach was tied up in knots. He was really cute, and she had a good feeling about him, almost as if the universe was telling her to go for it, meet up with him and have fun.

Hesitating at first, she let her finger hover over the little “send” button for a few seconds, before pressing the screen and sending the text.

Y/N: Hey! Where did you take the first pic? The place looks great

“What now?” Jo looked at her with one of her eyebrows arched.

“We wait, you idiot.”

“I need to do something,” Y/N locked her phone and got up, “if I stay on that couch waiting for a reply I’m gonna end up with no nails.”

“I did your nails last night, Y/N, don’t ruin my work,” Jo complained, “why don’t you cook dinner today?, and I’ll wash the dishes, so you can text with that guy if he replies to you by the time we’re done eating.”

“I’m gonna ignore the fact that it was your turn, Jo” she pointed out but made her way to the kitchen anyway, “and you better wash, dry, and put the dishes back in the cabinets.”

Cooking was the perfect distraction, and the glass of wine she drank while they were eating helped her loosen up just enough to check her phone without feeling like she was getting back some important results.

Charlie: It’s in Canada Charlie: Sulphur Mountain Trail! Charlie: I like your smile btw

She smiled with excitement when she opened the app and saw those three messages, and just as she was about to respond, Charlie sent another one.

Charlie: How was your day?? Y/N: It was good, pretty relaxing actually Y/N: Yours?? Charlie: Great! I went hiking with a friend, so now I’m just chilling at home Y/N: I’m assuming you’re into hiking, don’t you??? Charlie: Hahaha yeah you’re right Charlie: I guess I enjoy being outside, it keeps my mind occupied

Y/N: I get it, I’m not really into outdoor activities Y/N: I mean Y/N: I don’t mind going on a hike once in a while, but I prefer reading, painting, or playing some music Y/N: To keep my mind occupied

Five texts in a row. Was that too much? She didn’t want to appear intense, but she also didn’t want to send just one massive text and type it for way too long.

Charlie: You play an instrument?? Charlie: I love music Y/N: Yeah I play the piano Y/N: I just don’t have one with me now, so I haven’t played in a while Charlie: Oh! That sucks! Charlie: When I moved here I think I packed my guitars first and then the rest of my stuff

Y/N let out a soft laugh at his text, he did seem like the kind of guy to pack random stuff before things that he might actually need. She should’ve done the same, she missed playing the piano, and now that she was miles away from her parents’ house it wasn’t like she could just go and play. Especially because she didn’t even know how to drive a car.

Y/N: Should’ve done the same if I’m honest Y/N: Where are you from? You said you moved here

After reading his answer to her last question, she groaned in embarrassment because it was the most obvious answer, and yet she didn’t notice it.

Charlie: I’m Canadian

She lost track of time talking to him about things they both enjoyed doing, what was their favorite movie, favorite musician, and to her surprise it was so easy to talk to him about small things like that could help you a lot to get to know another person. Y/N got startled when Jo touched her shoulder to get her attention.

“I’m off to bed, babe,” Y/N dodged when her friend tried to ruffle her hair as if she was a little kid, “don’t go to bed too late.”

“I won’t mom,” she replied jokingly, “sweet dreams, Jo.”

With a heavy sigh, Y/N typed a message, telling him that she needed to get some rest and that she was hoping they could keep talking the next day.

Charlie: Do you mind if I ask you for your number?? Charlie: I’d love to call you or FaceTime with you if you’re okay with that

“Shit, shit, shit,” she whispered, wishing her best friend hadn’t gone to bed already. Of course, she wanted to give him her number, but was she supposed to give her number to the first guy she talked to on Tinder? “fuck it, I’m doing it.”

Y/N sent him her number and after telling him goodnight, she closed the app and got ready for bed. She really had a good feeling about this whole thing, and she couldn’t put her finger on what it was, because the feeling started even before they even matched.

Maybe it was just fate doing its work.

#charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie x y/n #charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie fanfic #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie one shot #charlie gillespie fluff #jatp cast imagine #charlie gillespie

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years ago

Note

for the winter fills, #6 sternclay nsfw?

Here you go!

06. we always carpool home for the holidays from college but a storm hit and now we’re taking the last room at the local b&b (bonus: bedsharing! we’re adults!)

“Status update?” Stern slides the caramel concrete from the tray over to Barclay, then unwraps his burger as his friend scrolls through his phone.

“Found a number for a B&B about five miles back the way we came; I’m gonna go call them; if they don’t have room, we may need to find a 24-hour gas station to loiter at. Be right back.” He snags a frie from the basket and heads out the door.

When Joseph saw the storm in the forecast, he and Barclay discussed whether to delay their drive to Madison. They both have family in town, which is why they’ve carpooled from the tiny college they teach at to the kind-of-big city for the last four years. The six hour trip goes much faster when there’s someone to talk to about movies and to change the music so he doesn’t have to take his hands off the wheel.

They decided to leave a day earlier than planned. Sadly, the storm had the same idea. Two hours away from their destination, the snow switched from gentle flakes to a full-on blizzard.

So now they’re huddled in a regional fast food chain trying to find a place to wait out the weather. It’s mid-afternoon but the dark sky outside the window tricks him into thinking it’s nighttime. He yawns, then shakes his head; he needs to stay alert to get them safely to their destination.

“Got us a room.” Barclay drops back into the booth across from him, “and I texted Mama to let her know we were delayed.”

“Lily sent me a half dozen messages checking on us while I was finding us a parking spot.” Once a big sister, always a big sister.

“Then let’s finish our healthy lunch and get on the road.” Barclay holds up the spoon with a dollop of ice cream, licking it off with a blissful expression, “man I missed these.”

Joseph’s mouth quips about his friend’s gourmet palate having a soft spot for mass produced caramel sauce. His mind, busy pushing the image of Barclays curving tongue into the section marked, “fantasies,” really hopes this B&B has more than one bed.

—-----------------------------------------

There’s only one bed.

They’d mentioned it on the phone, but seeing it here in the little cabin, seeing it with Joseph at the foot of it, is a very different experience.

“At least it’s a king.” Joseph sets his duffle bag down on the right side, “it’d be hard to cram us both into something much smaller.”

Barclay can think of several configurations that would make sharing even a twin bed easy, but he nods, “No kidding. Think the last time I shared a bed with someone I wasn’t dating was in, like, third grade for a sleepover.”

Joseph hangs his coat on the wall, “Is it really okay? I can sleep on the floor if that’s what needs to happen.”

“Nope” Barclay drops his bag into a chair, “I mean, we’re grown-ups, we can share a bed for one night without making it weird.”

Joseph agrees and excuses himself to the restroom. Barclay takes in their home for the night; there’s slanting ceilings, an electric fireplace, more white and red plaid than should be possible, and wreaths dotted with battery-powered candles. A banner on the door reads, “be of good cheer” and even the shoe rack has pine trees on it’s ends. His worn work boots stand next to Joseph’s black snow boots. His blue beanie hangs next to the sleek, black scarf that took the brunt of a snow clump that fell from a tree onto Joseph.

There was a time when seeing their things side by side pissed him off. When Joseph arrived at Mount Kepler College, everything from his suit to his smile screamed that he was the kind of professor who thought a unique school like theirs would look good on a resume. That he didn’t really care about the alternative approach to education and would flounce off within two years. It’d happened before.

Barclay hadn’t been the only person with those fears; much of the staff was cool yet professional towards him for the first three months. His office was across from Barclays, and passing him, all put-together and dashing, in the mornings made Barclay feel like a gorilla with a teaching credential. For peace of mind, he avoided him.

Then, four months in, Joseph came to his office and asked if he’d done something to upset Barclay and the other teachers. Barclay told the truth. Joseph studied him as he did.

“If a student came here who didn’t seem to fit in, you’d give him a chance, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“All I’m asking for is that same courtesy.”

He’d left Barclay’s office with a polite nod goodbye. Barclay came to work the next morning with apology brownies.

Now, with snow piling up on the car Joseph expertly guided through the storm, Barclay can’t imagine him as anything but a friend.

(Okay, he can, but he’s not letting that thought out to play tonight, not when he has to share a bed with the guy).

Joseph steps back into the room, phone in hand, “I’ve let everyone on my side know we’re safe for the night. How much was the bill for this place? I can pay half back to you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Barclay sits on the bed, “you drove and covered meals, I figure we’re even.”

“Speaking of which, I should go get the snacks from the car since they’re what we have for dinner.”

While he’s gone, Barclay fiddles with the tiny T.V on the wall, discovers it only plays DVDs, and switches his attention to the radio.

“Anything good?”

“Holiday music station or…holiday music station.” He looks over his shoulder as Joseph shakes stray snow from his hair.

“That’s fine. But if it plays that Adam Sandler song it’s going in the toilet tank.”

Bing Crosby croons as they change into comfy clothes and crank up the heat. Joseph, clad in bigfoot-patterned pajamas, slips into his usual habit of checking his work email until Barclay challenges him to a game on the remote chess app they both installed.

After dinner, they settle side by side on the bed. Barclay smiles when he sees they’re each reading gifts they got each other earlier in the year; Barclay his book of crosswords and Joseph his copy of A Year in Provence.

Just two friends chilling on a bed. Totally normal. Not at all domestic or sexual not matter how good on of them looks novelty sleepwear.

Barclay returns to his puzzle, discovers his pen made a Freudian slip on the clue “They make up min.” and turns the page.

“You’ve been to Provence, right?” Joseph adjusts the pillow behind him.

“Uh huh, worked in a kitchen there for about six months when I was traveling in Europe. Actually spent my Christmas there.”

“What was that like?” He tucks a bookmark into place.

“Great, but thank god I knew how to cook with goose before I got there. The poor pastry chef was the one who had a hard time; by the time we hit new years he said the next person to order a Buche de Noel was getting it shoved up their ass.”

Joseph laughs, “That would take some doing.”

“I wouldn’t have put it past him; his nickname was the Ox. Fucking huge and bulky, hands bigger than mine but he could turn out the daintiest pastries you ever saw. I never worked out how he did it, even though he made me help him plenty. On the plus side, churning out filling while he cursed at meringue mushrooms wasn’t a bad way to spend Christmas Eve.”

“You know, for some reason I assumed saving your holiday baking orders until the last minute and then making some poor employee stay late was an American thing.”

“Apparently not. I had to work the dinner service and then stay to help him. I didn’t get home until three a.m, although that was kinda due to the, uh…” he blushes, so caught up in his story that he forgot it would lead here.

Joseph rolls onto his side, “Stocking stuffing?”

He giggles; of course Joseph’s innuendos are as corny as his other jokes, “You got me. It was a total surprise; we were finishing up and he stopped cleaning to make us hot chocolate–The French kind, remind me to make it for you sometime–came back and was saying how pleased he was that I was obviously learning from him. Said he had some other things to teach me and, uh, I’d fucked around plenty so I knew when someone was coming on to me. Soon as I nodded he had me bent over the counter…man, working in kitchens you learn how to curse in every language but that guy’s vocabulary -” he cuts off before he says was almost as impressive as yours. His hesitation gives him time to notice the tent forming in his sweatpants. He lowers the puzzle book, hoping Joseph hasn’t noticed. One look at how blue eyes are fixed on his crotch reveals he’s too late.

“I’m sorry.” They say it at the same time, and Joseph’s cheeks go pinker.

“You, um, don’t have to stop. I love hearing you talk about your exploits. And I, um, I’m enjoying the image of twenty year old you being fucked.”

“Really?” His voice creeps up hopefully, “how do you like it?”

He’s transfixed as Joseph’s hand disappears under his waistband. There’s a sigh and the slow, circular motion of him rubbing his dick. Barclay looks up, needing to see if the faces Joseph makes jerking off match the ones in his fantasies. Joseph’s watching him carefully.

“Is this okay?”

God help him, he didn’t know Joseph’s voice could go that husky.

“So okay, babe.” He rolls over and Joseph immediately hooks their ankles together. It’s the easiest thing in the world to lean and bring their mouths together. He keeps the kiss slow, marveling at how the contact makes his heart brighter and bubblier than champagne.

“Y’know,” he kisses each corner of his mouth, “if I’d known the way to get you to kiss me was to talk about how much I got around, woulda done it months ago.”

“Did I say you could stop?” Joseph kisses his jaw.

He chuckles as he shoves down his sweats, “Sorry. Anyway, I swear this guy was coming up with new curses every thrust, kept calling me a little thing, saying how tight I was” His hand finds his cock, the memory of chocolate in his nose mingles deliciously with Joseph’s cologne, “I, I hadn’t gotten laid in months, I was so fucking sensitive I came as soon as he touched me, then all I could do was hang on to the counter while he fucked me open his fucking huge dick.”

Joseph sends a pointed glance down, “That must have been impressive. But I hope he knows how lucky he was to get his hands on yours.”

“Wanna get lucky?” He stills his hand, but Joseph shakes his head with a playful smile.

“Later, big guy. We have time, and I know your office has a locking door.”

“Fuck. You thought about that too?”

“Oh yes. Lord, Barclay, the things I’ve thought about you, you’re, you’re going to end up on your knees under my desk so often.”

“Can’t wait. Long as I don’t get cum in my beard, think we’ll be fine. Had to scrub that out in tiny bathrooms more times than I, fuck, care to count.”

“Yes.” There’s a moan, the movement of his arm changing, and the faint sound of fingers fucking up into him.

Barclays keeps his voice low, rests their foreheads together, “Most memorable one was blowing a guy in an Amtrak bathroom; he was coming back from his fucking divorce hearing, in this nice fucking suit, small enough that I could deep-throat him while he called me all kinds of names that, that shouldn’t have been hot but were. Made me jerk off at his feet while he came on my face.”

“S-sound like we know just what to do when you’re on your knees for me” Joseph kisses him, nuzzles his beard, “and you know I like my suits.”

“Ohfuck.” He cums up the leg of Joseph’s pants, is still shuddering as he grabs and drags him into a hungry kiss, stealing his moans off his tongue as his fingers speed up and his hips buck. He feels the orgasm move through him, holds him tight and wonders how he got so lucky that all his fucking around lead to him holding the most perfect man he’s ever known while he gasps his name.

Slowly, Joseph rolls onto his back, guiding Barclay’s head to his chest to kiss it.

“Um, sorry about your pants.”

A soft shrug, “I always take over laundry duty when I stay with Lily. No one will notice.”

The heater hums and Barclay’s eyes start to flutter closed.

“Barclay? You have some spare time during the break, right?”

“Uh huh.” He smiles up at him.

“Want to take an afternoon to go to the movies?”

“Fuck yeah. You, uh, you know this is gonna mean Lily will tease you about running off to see your boyfriend right?”

“I can live with that. If my, um, my boyfriend can?”

Barclays kisses his cheek, ‘Yeah, babe, he can”

#sternclay #agent stern/barclay #winter fills #trans agent stern

17 notes · View notes

particularemu · 5 years ago

Text

Photographic | A Hwang Hyunjin Fic

Word Count: 7898

Type: Smut

Warnings: Not really anything.

Author’s Note: Why is this so fucking long? OOF.

This took me a whole-ass month to finish. I hope y’all like this shy Jinnie smut.

Ding!

“Damnit!” You cursed as your phone alarm went off, signaling that your model would be here in around 30 minutes — that is, if he wasn’t early.

Please please please, don’t be the guy who feels the need to show up super early to everything!

The room was already heated to a warm temperature. The gods had blessed you with an overly prepared studio — complete with a pair of shorts and a thin T-shirt for you to change into because 75 degrees Fahrenheit is just not a good temperature for a photographer to work well in, dressed in a hoodie and heavy ass sweatpants.

Why in the hell did you decide to dress like a homeless person during the biggest shoot of your life? The world may never know.

You quickly threw off your heavy clothes and changed into your shorts and T-shirt, frantically rubbing your cucumber scented deodorant under your armpits to hide the fact that you didn’t make it to the shower yesterday. After tossing your clothes into the nearest closet and spritzing yourself with perfume for good measure, you decided you were at least presentable.

How embarrassing would it be to have your beautiful model turn up his nose at your smell?

Very!

Unfortunately, you learned that from experience. You couldn’t help but cringe at the memory of that jerk, scrunching up his nose before turning and walking out of the studio claiming that you were nasty.

Well he had a point. It wasn’t your fault your shower was broken for two weeks. There wasn’t enough perfume and deodorant to cover the fact that you hadn’t showered in ages.

Now that’s a scenario you’d rather not re-live.

You ran through the checklist in your head. Earlier that morning, you went to the store and picked up some refreshments. There was a cracker tray with ham and turkey, a water jug in the refreshment area, and you managed to get some fruits and veggies.

Fuck! You had to plate the fruit and veggies.

You pulled out a crystal plate — one your mother gave you after you bought your studio — and arranged some grapes, cut celery, carrots, and orange slices in a pretty pattern, hoping it’ll help you look as professional as you’re supposed to be.

Who knew a super professional photographer wouldn’t have their shit together?

You always wanted your models to feel super comfortable during the shoot, so you always provided a little refreshment area, fully equipped with a luxury looking couch that you found for $100 at a little antique store, water, food, and a soft robe you’d have specially made for them.

Speaking of which… Where’s Hyunjin’s robe?

You frantically searched around your studio, hoping it would randomly appear in the closet. Unfortunately that didn’t happen. You searched every closet, room, and piece of furniture, only to find it hung in the dressing room — you know… where it was supposed to be.

Fucking hell you were a mess.

Ding Dong!

Your heart started beating a mile a minute when you heard the doorbell. It’s not that you were nervous for the shoot. No you’ve been doing this far too long to be nervous over seeing a naked man. You just felt under-prepared.

Okay, now’s not the time to panic. We have to take this step by step. First step: let the model into the studio.

The morning was so hectic, you were hoping you had everything in place for the shoot. The last thing you wanted to do was make the poor boy uneasy before his first nude photoshoot.

You opened the door, smiling when you saw the beautiful man across the threshold.

“Hello, I’m Hwang Hyunjin.” He bowed to you, a bright smile on his face. “I’m excited to be working with you.”

You couldn’t help but stare at the boy in wonder. He truly was beautiful — not that you didn’t know that! After all, you did look at his file which included some bare faced headshots.

You couldn’t help but admire how well he dressed. The boy was clad in black skinny jeans, a red button up shirt, and a leather jacket. He had a green scarf wrapped around his neck, nose pressing into the soft material to protect him from the cold.

Wait… It definitely isn’t normal to stare at someone while they stand in the snow. He stood awkwardly for a bit before shooting you a dazzling smile, bringing you back to earth in time to realize how weird you were acting.

“I’m sorry, please come in!” You stepped to the side, gesturing for him to come inside.

The tall boy stepped into the studio, eyes widening as he scanned the impressive building. He wasn’t used to working with photographers with such big budgets. Hyunjin was still pretty new in the modeling business, so he mainly worked with photographers trying to get their start with photos in public parks and in the streets. His worst experience was modeling for a beginner photographer who forced him to model in the mud for 4 hours without a break.

Hyunjin cringed as he remembered that shoot. It was one he’d rather not have on his resume.

“Wow. It’s nice and warm in here.” Hyunjin pulled the scarf down from his nose, slipping his jacket off and hanging it on the coat rack by the door.

“Yes! It’s nice compared to the freezing cold outside. Let me know if you need the temperature changed at all during the shoot. I want to make sure you’re comfortable.” You smiled at him, gesturing towards a table. “I have a few things I need to go over with you before we start.”

Hyunjin nodded and sat in a chair at the end of the table. He couldn’t help but wonder what you had planned for this shoot. Sure, he had a vague idea of what he’d be doing, but he wasn’t sure if you planned for a sensual, sexy shoot, or perhaps something else. The only information he got when he applied for the job was that he’d be doing a nude shoot with the best photographer in the city — well… in his opinion.

“So, from what I recall, you applied for this photoshoot, so you know exactly what the details are, but just in case you are uncomfortable with anything, I’d like to go over the details again.” You slid a packet across the table, showing him a few paragraphs.

“Basically, I want to project the message that men don’t have to be buff and masculine all the time. I want to show a softer, more vulnerable side of men.”

Hyunjin nodded, eyes focused on you as you explained the details for him. He couldn’t help but admire you as you spoke so passionately about your work. It was clear photography was the path you were meant to be on. Hyunjin had to admire that — he still wasn’t quite sure if modeling was the career he wanted to stick with. After all… his looks would only last so many years. What happens when he gets older? When his looks fade? Then he’d be nothing.

Hyunjin mentally kicked himself. He should be listening to you, not focusing on his adult angst.

You explained the details of the shoot as you mentally devoured the boy in your mind. The way he fiddled with his fingers as his brown eyes shifted to look at the paperwork made your heart pang against your chest. He makes the most simple tasks look so beautiful.

You couldn’t help but feel extremely attracted to the guy. How could you not? He was young, beautiful, respectful, and he appeared to have a great personality.

Yep… you were head over heels for the boy and he’s only been in your studio for all of five minutes.

“I’m going to need you to sign these forms. I know the company gave you some to sign, but I need to protect my own ass. All these are saying is that you consent to being nude and you consent to me taking your pictures. I’m not going to have you sign the release forms until after we take pictures. Then you can decide whether or not you want them released to the public.” You explained. “I’ll give you a few minutes to look the forms over.”

Wait, he didn’t have to sign the release form? Hyunjin couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He’s only been in this business a couple years, but he’s never heard of photographers skipping the release forms until after the shoot. What would happen if the models refused to sign? Then the whole shoot would be for nothing.

This was a breath of fresh air, considering the fact that new models usually don’t have a say in anything.

“Do you have many models refuse to sign the release form?” Hyunjin questioned, eyes skimming the text of the forms in front of him.

“Believe it or not, I’ve had a couple refuse to sign them. When we get newbies, sometimes they look at the pictures and they feel like they shouldn’t have gone through with a nude shoot, and I don’t know… I just don’t want anyone to feel like they’re roped in to having their naked body circulating around the internet.” You picked up your phone, hoping some random Instagram scrolling would distract you from your nerves.

Hyunjin pulled a pen out of the pencil cup and signed the forms. “That’s nice of you. Most photographers wouldn’t care that much.”

“Well consent is key.” You smiled at him. “I know what it’s like to have that taken away so I don’t want anyone to go through that.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened at your words. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh nothing like that!” You waved your hands in front of you, instantly regretting your choice of words. “No, I had my pictures stolen once.” You laughed nervously. “A partner I was working with took all the credit. It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“It still must have sucked.” Hyunjin smiled. “Kudos to you for keeping a cool head.”

“Oh I didn’t at the time.” You chuckled. “I was so upset because I was so new. Those landscape pictures were going to help me make it in the big leagues.” You sighed as you remembered the events that unfolded. “But, I managed to make it big with nude photographs, so I guess it all worked out in the end.”

Hyunjin smiled and signed the space on the last page before putting the pen back in the cup. “All the forms are signed.”

“Perfect. Let’s get you over here in the makeup chair, and I’ll do your makeup for the shoot.” You pointed over to a light-up beauty mirror, the countertop filled with makeup products you planned to use on Hyunjin.

“You do your own makeup?” Hyunjin was a bit surprised. Usually photographers hired makeup artists for the models.

“When it’s simple stuff I do it myself.” You chuckled as Hyunjin sat in the chair. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to make you look like Pennywise.”

Hyunjin laughed. “I didn��t think you’d do bad. I’m just surprised.”

You smiled and started putting some light makeup on Hyunjin. You skipped the foundation, hoping to keep the mole under his right eye visible. Besides, his skin was perfect enough that he didn’t need foundation. Hyunjin’s eyes closed as you applied some natural looking eyeshadow, enhancing his beautiful brown eyes. Last but not least, you applied a lip stain to the inner part of his plump lips, blending it out so his lips looked freshly kissed.

Hyunjin opened his eyes, smiling at the natural look you put on him. As much as he loved getting fully glammed out for certain photoshoots, he felt more like himself when his skin was left bare.

You stepped back, admiring your work before telling Hyunjin, “I’m ready when you are. I have a robe in the dressing room over there.” You gestured towards the small room. “You can wear that between shots if you’d like, or you can go au natural. I don’t really care. I’ve seen lots of naked people.”

You couldn’t help but cringe at your choice of words. Yep, that’s definitely what you want to tell a guy you’re into. Tell him you’ve seen a ton of naked people. That’ll help him fall in love with you.

“Y’know. Because I take pictures of naked people. Not because I’m a slut.”

Nice cover.

Hyunjin laughed at your awkwardness and headed to the dressing room, closing the velvet curtain so he could undress in privacy. He couldn’t help but gawk at the dressing room you provided. The room was pretty big, complete with a fancy looking chair, a rack with hangers, and a soft looking robe with his name embroidered into the fabric.

Hyunjin ran his thumb over the red letters, feeling his heart beat in his chest. He had to admit, he was really nervous for this shoot. Of course he knew that he’d be naked for this photoshoot and he wasn’t exactly insecure about his body, but his admiration for you was making him a bit nervous.

Truth is — he liked you way too much. Your strong and daring personality sent his heart fluttering in his chest. Being naked in front of you seemed daunting.

But he had to go through with it. Hyunjin unbuckled his belt, sliding the smooth leather out of his belt buckles before hanging it neatly on the clothes rack. He quickly stepped out of his pants and boxers. Hyunjin pulled his shirt over his head, hanging everything up neatly so nothing would wrinkle, leaving him bare before the mirror.

He glanced at his body in the mirror, suddenly wondering if you’d think he was good enough. Sure you had the opportunity to look at his face, but his digitals included a shirt. Maybe he wasn’t muscular enough for you? Would you find him sexy the way he was?

Hyunjin shook his head, a light blush coating his cheeks. What does it matter if you find him sexy? This was a WORKING relationship, not a romantic one. It’s not like he’s trying to seduce you at a bar, he’s posing naked for you so you could take photos of him.

Hyunjin grabbed the robe off the hanger, sliding it over his shoulders before deciding that — no, he probably didn’t need to wear that thing. After all, he’d just be getting naked in front of you.

But would it be weird to walk out naked? Knock it off! She’s probably seen several naked people who were confident in their naked-ness. He just needed to walk out there, and own his body. Maybe then you’ll find him sexy?

While Hyunjin was undressing, you found yourself in a deep mental argument with yourself.

Why on earth was this boy making you so nervous?

Sure he’s beautiful, but you’ve seen lots of beautiful people before. You’ve never been this attracted to the other beautiful people, but oh no…

No! You can’t do that. You’re about to do a nude photoshoot with the poor thing, you can’t be romantically interested in the beautiful boy.

It was completely clear that Hyunjin wasn’t 100% comfortable doing this nude photoshoot, so you can’t freak him out even more by telling him he’s the most beautiful human being to walk this earth. He’d probably think you were a freak!

“Um… I’m done.” Hyunjin’s soft voice shook you out of your thoughts.

Dear God.

Hyunjin was beautiful with clothes on, but without… UGH.

Hyunjin had such flawless milky skin. You could see little beauty marks down his body, making you want nothing more than to trace your fingers along each and every mark. He wasn’t super muscular, but he wasn’t a beanpole either.

Hyunjin was the definition of beautiful.

“I uh… figured I’d wear this between shots, since we’re starting I didn’t really feel the need to put it on.” Hyunjin’s cheeks flushed a bit, giving away his nerves and sending your emotions into overdrive.

If you haven’t fallen for the boy already, you certainly have now.

“That’s fine!” You couldn’t help but stare at Hyunjin’s body, admiring everything from subtle dips in his abdomen to his perfectly rounded shoulders.

Not only was his skin beautiful, you had an excellent view of… other things. The boy was completely hairless below the neck. He must have gotten waxed or something before the shoot. You couldn’t help but glance down, noticing that his dick was quite an impressive size when it wasn’t erect. Your mind wandered, wondering what it’d look like when it was standing tall.

Quit staring! You’re freaking out the poor boy.

You grabbed your camera, hoping the cold metal in your hands would distract you from your growing attraction to Hyunjin.

“Okay, I’m going to have you lay on the bed.” You pointed to the mattress sitting near a window in your studio. “Lay on your back and bend your left leg at the knee.”

Hyunjin did as you asked, positioning himself on the soft blankets. “Like this?”

You stood back, admiring the boy’s positioning for a minute. It was a good first try, but you needed him to relax. Hyunjin’s limbs were so stiff, he just looked uncomfortable as he rested upon the blankets. You had to find a way to get him to relax.

“You look a bit stiff. Try to relax.” You spoke softly, hoping your low voice would calm him a bit. You dimmed the lights so you would achieve a darker set of photos to compliment his milky skin.

Hyunjin took a deep breath, hoping to calm his body enough to get decent pictures for you. He tried to think about calming things — the sounds of the ocean, his bed at home, your hands running along his body as he rocked into you.

Wait what?

Hyunjin’s eyes widened as if it were possible for you to hear what he was thinking. God he needed to get you out of his head, otherwise he could be sporting an erection soon. Think about anything but you… Okay, night walks, K-Dramas, your lips against his.

Fuck.

Hyunjin was in trouble.

“Hey, I told you to relax not stiffen up even more.” You giggled.

Hyunjin laughed a bit before his body relaxed slightly. That’ll be good enough for now. You figured he’d loosen up the more you got into the shoot.

“Perfect. Now bring your right hand to your forehead.” You brought the heel of your hand to the edge of your right brow, showing him how you’d like his hand to be positioned.

How on earth did you make that look so elegant? For a second, Hyunjin questioned how he was even a model. He put his hand awkwardly on his forehead, wondering how you made that look so effortless and natural. “Like this?”

“Not quite.” You pursed your lips as you tried to think of a different way to explain it to him. “Bend all of your fingers, except your index finger. That one should be most of the way up.”

Hyunjin’s brows creased as he tried to comprehend what you were saying. “I’m sorry I don’t understand.” His face reddened with embarrassment.

“Can I touch you?” Perhaps this would be easier if you could just position the boy.

Fuck. If you started touching him, who knows what would happen. He was really hoping his dick would behave. Although it made him nervous, Hyunjin nodded anyway. He wanted to help you take good pictures.

You smiled and placed his hand the way you preferred, making sure to angle his long fingers so they looked more elegant. Once you got his hands in place, you tilted his chin with your index finger, smiling when his bright eyes met yours.

After checking his position in the camera, you decided that he looked perfect. “Okay, that looks better.” You whispered before positioning your body next to the bed. “Are you ready to start?”

Hyunjin nodded, looking forward to seeing you at work.

You snapped various pictures of Hyunjin as he adjusted his position ever-so-slightly to give you his best angles. The boy sure knew how to model.

Hyunjin still looked a bit stiff though. You figured making small talk might help the boy feel more comfortable in the studio.

“So, how long have you been in the modeling industry?” You asked, snapping a couple more pictures as his gaze shifted to you.

“About 2 years now. I started when I turned 18, but I’ve never done anything like this.” Hyunjin’s eyes shifted away from the camera, cheeks flushing slightly.

That’d be a perfect shot!

Snap!

“That’s cool. What made you want to take this job?” You couldn’t help but wonder. He clearly wasn’t comfortable being nude in front of the camera, but he still seemed excited about the shoot.

“I’ve always admired your work.” He blushed a bit. “When I first got into modeling, I wanted to do a photoshoot with you, but my company told me you only did nude shoots.”

When he first started, Hyunjin thought he’d never do nude photoshoots, but then he stumbled upon your portfolio. You managed to make the human body look so elegant, so beautiful, without making the photos look like nude selfies you’d send to your long distance girlfriend.

After witnessing your talent and seeing a job open up, he just had to take it.

“That’s a lie.” You scoffed. “I don’t just take pictures of naked men.”

Hyunjin giggled a bit at your outburst. “What do you enjoy taking pictures of?”

You lowered the camera, thinking about it for a bit. “I enjoy taking pictures of people. I think the human body is beautiful. I guess that’s how I got roped into doing nude photoshoots. But it’s not all I do.”

You paused the conversation, telling him to adjust his position. “Turn and face me.”

Hyunjin did as you asked, turning his body to the side, brown eyes wondering what you’d have him do next. His hair fell in his face just right, staying out of his face enough to showcase the mole under his right eye, the look of wonder on his face nearly making you swoon.

Fuck he’s beautiful.

In that very moment, Hyunjin captured exactly what you wanted. His innocent eyes looked soft and gentle. He looked like the ultimate boyfriend material.

“What do I —”

“Don’t fucking move or I will end you.” You snapped.

Hyunjin couldn’t help but laugh, face burying in the blankets as he tried to compose himself. He turned his head to the side with a bright smile and —

SNAP!

That was the money shot. You wanted that shit framed in your bedroom. Or maybe not your bedroom. That would give you too much masturbation material.

Speaking of…

Hyunjin’s mere existence was turning you on, his naked body sending your emotions into overdrive as you tried to decipher what exactly you loved about the boy. Hyunjin’s cute little head tilt helped you realize that — wow, everything about Hyunjin turned you on. He was so cute and innocent and soft and that made you want to devour him.

Perhaps a quick bathroom session would take your mind off him long enough to finish the shoot? Or maybe...

No — you can’t ask the models to fuck you.

Unfortunately, your sex drive was at an all time high. It’s been a while since you’ve been dicked down.

You mentally kicked yourself. You are a photographer. Take the damn pictures.

Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to get a few sexier pictures of Hyunjin. “Ok, I need more intensity in your eyes.” You directed, looking forward to seeing what Hyunjin had to offer.

The boy closed his eyes, holding them shut for a couple seconds. You were a bit worried you offended him until he opened his eyes and JESUS. The sexy gleam in his eyes made you want to toss the camera on the table, strip down, and fuck him right there.

You snapped a few pictures of Hyunjin, shifting around the bed as his eyes followed the lens. “Go ahead and move your body.” You directed. “I want to see what’s comfortable for you.”

Hyunjin blushed a bit. He had never done anything like this before, so he wasn’t familiar with typical poses men should do during nude photoshoots. He opted for simple poses, laying on the bed, shooting sensual glances at the lens as you snapped pictures. He adjusted his position a few times, giving you various poses. Hyunjin played with his hands, positioning them across his body so it appeared as though he was feeling himself up.

Your cheeks flushed as you watched the boy adjust his positioning. Damn he was good at this. “Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” You smirked, snapping another picture.

Hyunjin chuckled before asking “Is this okay?”

“It’s more than okay.” You replied, snapping a few more pictures. “These are turning out great.”

Yes! Hyunjin mentally high-fived himself. You seemed impressed with his work, and he was excited to see what the photos looked like when you were done.

You snapped a few more excellent shots of Hyunjin before deciding to change the lighting to be a bit more sensual — as if that was going to help your problem.

You couldn’t help but notice your damp underwear, your arousal becoming more and more difficult to hide the longer you stared at Hyunjin’s body.

“Why don’t you take a break. I have to switch the lighting a bit.” You gestured towards the refreshments. “Feel free to wear your robe, so you don’t have to flash your goods around me 24/7. There’s also a plate with veggies and grapes and there’s a water jug…” You trailed off, feeling nervous, as if Hyunjin could tell what was going on in your panties. “But you have eyes, so you probably didn’t need me to rant about what’s there.”

Hyunjin laughed and slipped the robe over his shoulders. “Flash my goods?”

“Yeah. You look good, therefore, your nakedness equals your goods.” Your face flushed.

Why did you have to shoot your mouth?

Hyunjin chuckled and pulled the robe closed, tying the fabric together with the belt. As comfortable as he felt being nude under your gaze, being covered up was a nice break from having his dick out in front of you.

Hyunjin headed over to the refreshments, eyes scanning the various fruits and vegetables before he opted to snack on grapes.

“So.” Hyunjin popped a grape in his mouth, “What got you into photography?”

“I took a photography class in high school and I guess it just stuck. I used to take a ton of pictures of the kids playing sports. I volunteered to take pictures at every school event.” you smiled, unscrewing the bulbs in your lights and setting them on the table.

“That’s nice.” Hyunjin chuckled. “I wonder what it’s like being on the other end.”

Hyunjin always wanted to try photography, but he never invested in a camera. Sure he used his phone camera to take selfies, but he’s always wanted to try taking photos of another person. He wanted to capture the human body the way you did.

“It’s amazing. Do you want to try?” You gestured towards your camera, trying to convince him to test it out.

Hyunjin waved his hands in front of him. “Oh no! I don’t want to break it.” The last thing he wanted to do was break his favorite photographer’s camera.

“If you break it, I have 2 others in the cupboard charging.” You chuckled. “Come on, why don’t you give it a shot?” You thrust the camera into Hyunjin’s hands, giggling when he held onto it for dear life.

“You don’t have to worry so much.” You smiled softly.

“I don’t want to break it. This must be hundreds of dollars.” His knuckles were white as he clung to the camera, as if loosening his grip would cause the camera to disintegrate in his hands.

You couldn't help but laugh at the number he threw out. “Try thousands.”

Yep. That camera with the lens cost you a whopping 7 grand. But the camera took beautiful pictures which made the cost absolutely worth it.

Hyunjin’s eyes widened even more, if that was possible. He was holding one whole paycheck in his hands. Still… he was holding an incredible piece of equipment and he felt like he had to try it out.

Hyunjin glanced around, hoping to find a pretty flower to take a picture of, but he couldn’t figure out what to photograph. “What do I take a picture of? The studio?” He chuckled.

You paused what you were doing, turning around to shoot him a smile. “Take a picture of me.” You giggled when he flushed bright red, brown eyes avoiding your gaze as his brain processed what you were saying.

“I wouldn’t do you justice.” He whispered, just loud enough for you to hear.

It was your turn to flush red. Was that his way of calling you pretty? That’s kind of sweet.

“I don’t know how to pose you or anything.” Hyunjin smiled nervously.

Oh the poor thing. He didn’t realize that you knew how to pose yourself. You were a photographer after all. “Aww. Sweetheart. It’s okay I can take care of that myself.”

Suddenly an idea popped into your head. If you were going to get laid today, you had to be creative. So why not have Hyunjin take some Boudoir shots of you? It was the perfect chance to seduce him with your curves!

You reached over your head, pulling your T-shirt off, showing off the lacy bra hidden beneath the thin fabric. Hyunjin’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he watched you unbutton your shorts, pulling the denim down your legs to show the matching pair of panties.

“What are you doing?” Hyunjin stuttered, cheeks flushing red when his eyes raked over your body.

“Well.” You paused, wiggling your hips a bit as you stepped out of your shorts. “I figured, it’s only fair for you to take a few Boudoir shots of me, since I’ve seen you naked.”

Hyunjin’s tongue darted over his lower lip as his eyes ran over the dip of your hips. He longed to hold your hips in his hands while doing unspeakable things to you. But no — now’s not the time to be thinking of such things. He’s got a photoshoot to finish.

“You don’t have to. I don’t mind taking pictures of you… clothed…” He trailed off.

“It’s fine. I want to.” You draped yourself sensually over the bed, making sure to point your toes so you looked more elegant. “Now point and shoot.”

Hyunjin swallowed, before finding a spot beside the bed. How did you get such good pictures of other people? It was obvious that you didn’t just “point and shoot.” You played around with angles.

Hyunjin moved to the side of the bed, resting beside your head and angling the camera down to the foot of the bed. He captured a beautiful shot of your body — one that captured each and every curve you had to offer.

You smiled at him and shifted your body to look more innocent, widening your eyes as you looked into the lens.

Hyunjin snapped a few more pictures, before he noticed the blood rushing straight to his groin. Oh no… He was far too turned on to continue the photoshoot.

Panic bubbled in Hyunjin’s chest as he tried to think of ways to get rid of the raging boner underneath the robe. Sure, he could try and think of things like basketball or the news, but that wouldn’t get rid of his problem when his eyes were fixed on your breasts like a teenager hyped up on hormones.

No — he had to jerk this one out.

Hyunjin sat the camera on the table before attempting to scurry off to the bathroom.

“Do you want help with that?” Your voice stopped him in his tracks. Truth is, you noticed the raging boner underneath the robe long before he did.

What? Hyunjin looked down, cheeks turning bright red when he saw that the outline of his dick was very visible underneath the robe.

“I’m sorry. I’ll excuse myself.” Hyunjin’s voice shook as he turned to leave.

“Wait.” You called after him.

Hyunjin turned to look at you, guilt and shame evident in his eyes as he attempted to cover himself.

“I think it’s hot that you’re turned on my looking at me.” You confessed, stepping closer to the boy. “And if you’re okay with it, I’d love to be with you tonight.”

You normally wouldn’t have had the courage to say such things to a man, but you had a feeling about this one. You had this feeling that you and Hyunjin could be something special, but first, you’d have to put yourself out there.

Hyunjin’s cheeks flushed a darker shade of red. It felt like his head was spinning. Your confession made his heart bang against his ribcage so hard, he thought it would burst through. He wondered if you could hear his heart as it echoed in his ears.

He didn’t know why, but this felt right. “I’d like that too.” He confessed.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked, hoping he’d say yes.

“You can do more than kiss me.” His voice switched from being incredibly sweet and innocent, to being deep and sensual.

FUCK.

Okay — you weren’t expecting that.

You simply nodded before walking up to him, tentative hands running along his chest before sliding up to wrap around his neck.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked. “We have only known each other for a couple hours.”

He was right. It felt like you’ve known each other far longer. But it was clear he wanted this as much as you did.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.” Your arms tightened around his neck, sighing happily when his hands rested on your hips.

“Let me know if you want to stop.”

As if?

You nodded before saying “Fuck me.”

Hyunjin moved forward, instantly taking control as he closed the distance between you, one hand moving to caress your cheek while the other rested on your hip. His soft lips pressed gently against yours and oh — his lips felt just as good as you imagined they would.

Your hands slid down his chest, parting the fabric of his robe so you could feel more of his velvety smooth skin against your fingertips. You wanted to feel him pressed against you, so bad that your body naturally rocked closer to his.

Hyunjin ran his tongue along your bottom lip, humming in approval when you easily parted your lips for him to slip his tongue into your mouth. His tongue ran along yours coaxing a moan from you.

Your soft moans sent the blood rushing to Hyunjin’s cock, making him want to tear your lingerie off and slide into you. But no — he’d wait to do that. He was going to take his time with you and appreciate every dip and curve your body had to offer.

Hyunjin’s hands ran along your back before his fingertips danced around the clasp of your bra. He parted from your lips, pressing soft kisses down your jawline as his fingers unclipped the garment. The flimsy fabric fell off your body easily, making you moan as Hyunjin tossed your bra in a random direction.

“Since I’ve been naked this whole time, I think it’s fair that you undress first.” Hyunjin’s velvety voice mixed with the playful gleam in his eye sent a wave of arousal through you, panties becoming wetter the more your eyes rested upon his heated gaze.

“I won’t complain as long as you hurry up when I’m done.” You giggled as you slowly pulled your underwear down your legs, smiling when Hyunjin’s tongue ran along his lower lip, biting the soft flesh gently.

He was eye-fucking you, and that was exactly where you wanted him.

Hyunjin closed his eyes, leaning his head back for a second before turning his gaze to your naked body. “Can I touch you?” He asked softly.

That’s funny. As if he hadn’t been touching you this whole time.

“Of course.” You smiled, bending your index finger in a ‘come hither’ motion.

Hyunjin closed the distance between you two, instantly falling to his knees before pulling your left knee over his shoulder. He pulled your body closer to his, the need to taste you on his tongue taking over his senses.

“Let me…” He trailed off as he panted, hot breath ghosting over your thigh. “I want to make you feel good.”

Wow. It’s not every day your dream boy practically begs to eat you out. How could you say no to that?

You nodded and shifted your body so you were closer to his face, giving him an excellent view of your soaked folds.

Hyunjin couldn’t help but lick his lips as he stared upon your glistening core. He wanted to know what you tasted like, but first… he wanted to have some fun with you.

Hyunjin’s lips pressed feathery kisses along your thighs, tongue darting out every now and again to taste your skin. He noticed the way your hips shifted closer to his face when he sucked a spot on your thigh, turning the skin purple before he moved on to dance around where you wanted him to touch most.

“Hyunjin please.” you moaned, shifting your hips closer to his face once more.

And like that, his tongue was buried in your folds, instantly making your knees go weak. You moaned loudly, fighting to stay standing as the boy slurped loudly, moaning at the taste of you on his tongue.

Your hands darted to his ebony locks, fingers tightening in his hair when he sucked your clit between his teeth, nibbling on the bud gently. The overwhelming pleasure would have sent you falling to the ground if it weren’t for Hyunjin’s hands keeping you steady.

“Fuck Hyunjin.” You moaned. “It’s so good.” One of your hands shifted to caress his cheek. “You’re so good.” You cried out as his eyes met yours, tongue rolling around your clit once more.

“I’m gonna cum.” You moaned loudly, legs shaking as standing became too difficult for you to do.

Hyunjin separated from your core with a pop. He quickly thrust your other knee over his shoulder, hands supporting your back as he lowered you onto the hardwood floor.

You gasped — partially because of the cold floor against your heated skin, partially because Hyunjin dove back into your folds, enclosing his lips around your clit and sucking harshly. It didn’t take long for Hyunjin to make you cum, the constant attention to your clit giving you the biggest orgasm you’ve had in your life. Your toes curled, back arching off the cold wooden floor as you hit your high, the overwhelming pleasure making your thighs shake around his head.

Your chest rose and fell with each breath as you panted on the ground. Your brows creased when you saw the robe still covering his perfect body. “I believe I told you to take that off.”

Hyunjin laughed, a bright smile taking over his features. “So bossy.” He slid the robe off his shoulders leaving his body bare to your eyes.

He looked just as beautiful as before, but even more so with a hard cock. Your mouth watered at the sight. You wanted — no needed — to have him in your mouth. You crawled over to him, gently taking his cock into your hands, pulling the foreskin as you pumped his length a couple times.

Hyunjin threw his head back, moaning at the much-needed friction. Although he was enjoying the feeling of you jacking him off, he really wanted to be inside you. “Please.” Hyunjin moaned, “I want to be inside you.”

“And you will be. But right now I want to suck your dick.” You silenced him by taking his cock as far down your throat as you could, tucking your thumb under your fingers to suppress your gag reflex.

The boy let out a loud, strangled moan as you sucked more of his length down your throat, nose almost pressing into his pubic bone. Damn that was hot. He’s never had a girl take him that far before. The feeling of your throat closing around him nearly made him cum instantly.

You were convinced there was nothing hotter than hearing Hyunjin’s moans while you deepthroat his cock. His quiet gasps and soft “oh my god” made you want to suck him dry. You pulled back, jerking him off a bit before sucking the tip back into your mouth.

Hyunjin bit his lip, a loud moan echoing through the room as you ran your tongue along the underside, tracing each vein with every pass of your tongue.

“Please.” He moaned. “Please let me.”

You pulled away, having way too much fun teasing the poor boy. “Let you what?” Your hand pumped him a couple more times making his body twitch.

“Let me fuck you.” He moaned at your touch. “I want to be inside you.”

“Why?” You questioned. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you think I’m bad at sucking dick.”

“That’s not it at all.” He quickly reassured you. “I just really want to be inside you.” He paused. “Please.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his neediness. “Ok, but let’s go to the bed so we aren’t fucking on the floor like animals.”

Hyunjin laughed and lifted you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist, lips quickly connecting with yours as he walked the two of you over to the bed in the studio.

You broke the kiss mumbling a quick, “fuck that was hot,” before connecting your lips once more.

At that very moment, Hyunjin couldn’t help himself. He quickly slid into you, a low groan rumbling in his chest as your walls tightened around him. “You feel so good.” His head nuzzled into your neck, the intimate position making your heart flutter as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Hyunjin set a slow pace, lips pressing against yours softly so he could make the moment last. You looked into his eyes at the same time he looked into yours and — oh this was starting to look like one of those romance movies. The way his hips rocked against yours, the way one of his hands caressed your cheek — you were positive that you were in love with him.

How could you be in love with a man you just met?

You couldn’t seem to find the answer as Hyunjin rocked his hips faster, dragging his lower body against yours so he would rub against your clit. You couldn’t help the moans escaping your lips, his name at the tip of your tongue as if your mind was purely filled with Hyunjin.

That wasn’t far from the truth. You waited so long to have him inside you and here you are, body pressed against his, tongue sliding against his as he thrusted deeper, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“I’m close.” you moaned, hands wrapping around his lower back.

“Me too.” Hyunjin grunted, eyes squeezing shut as he moved faster, hips stuttering as he tried to bring you closer to your high. He tried so hard to hold out — to get you to cum with him, but he couldn’t chance releasing inside you without knowing whether or not you were on the pill.

Hyunjin quickly pulled out, deep moans escaping his lips as he stroked himself through his orgasm. He came on your stomach, exhaustion hitting him almost immediately as he came down from his high.

You hummed in approval, stroking his thigh as he basked in the afterglow, though you were a bit disappointed in your now-fading orgasm. Oh well, at least you got to cum with his amazing tongue.

Hyunjin noticed your fading orgasm, and he was quick to act, adjusting his position so he could devour your folds. His fingers drove into your core, curling upward so he would hit your g-spot with each thrust. The surprising pleasure almost immediately made you cum, hands fisting the sheets, looking for something to help bring you down to earth.

One last suck and you were gone, crying out his name and a string of curse words as you came for the second time that night.

Hyunjin licked his lips as he sat up, admiring your still-panting frame. God you looked beautiful like this — eyes drifting shut as exhaustion hit you, chest rising and falling with each breath, his cum coating your stomach — you looked divine.

Speaking of cum…

Hyunjin stood up and walked over to the refreshment area, grabbing a handful of paper towels before heading back to the bed. He wiped the cum off your stomach, giggling when you twitched at his touch.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You panted, curling up under the blankets.

“Of course I did.” Hyunjin smiled. He never wanted to leave a girl hanging. Especially you.

“Are you going to stay the night?” You asked, hoping he’d say yes.

Although you wanted to fuck the boy, you also wanted the soft cuddle time that you assumed would come after. You wanted to hold him close until you both drifted off to sleep. You wanted to take him to breakfast in the morning and go on dates and kiss him daily and — oh shit… you wanted a relationship with him.

Your heart dropped as you waited for an answer. You shouldn’t have done this. Now you’re overly attached to the boy and you’ll have to deal with the rejection that comes after, what was supposed to be, a one-night stand.

“That depends.” Hyunjin answered, pausing a second as he pretended to think it through.

Of course he was planning to stay the night. He just had the best sex he’s ever had in his life. He wasn’t planning on letting you go. “Will you still love me in the morning?”

“Who said I love you now?” You flushed, smacking his arm lightly.

“Alright then I’ll go.” Hyunjin sat up and swung his feet off the edge of the bed, rubbing his tired eyes. Perhaps this really was just a fling to you?

You panicked, seeing your potential relationship being washed down the drain at your own stupidity. “No please don’t go.” You embraced him from behind. “I will. I want to get to know you better. I want to take you out and kiss you every morning and do couple shit. Just don’t leave me.” You tightened your arms around his torso. “I promise I’ll love you in the morning. As long as you’ll still love me?”

You instantly regretted your words as Hyunjin’s body went stiff. Maybe he was kidding? Perhaps it was a figure of speech? Maybe he didn’t feel the same.

“Nevermind.” You laid back in bed, turning your back to the boy as you tried to stop the frantic beating of your heart and the painful fear of rejection in your head.

You felt Hyunjin’s arms wrap around you before feeling him pull your body flush against his.

“Of course I’ll love you in the morning.”

471 notes · View notes

noblechaton · 5 years ago

Text

In From the Cold

Hey @mimogene, I’m your @mlsecretsanta!! I heard that you love Marichat and so I whipped up some Marichat friendship fluff for ya!! Happy holidays <3

AO3

_____________________________

Marinette stood, foot tapping lightly on the cold kitchen floor as she finished adjusting her robe and folded her arms. She stared a bit aimlessly at her oven as it hummed away with the flickering flame inside illuminating her perfectly organized sheet of cookie dough clumps. This was the most she could think to do in her current situation, for better or worse.

To say this Christmas Eve had been quiet would be a bit of an understatement. No schoolwork to do, no bakery to run thanks to a family vacation, not even any sort of Akuma made an appearance this evening. The silent night was nice, for sure, but after a few years spending the holidays surrounded by some form of busy work, it was a bit...odd.

It certainly wasn’t how she was expecting to spend her first Christmas alone, anyway. A seasonal cold had kept her from tagging along on a trip to see family and friends in Shanghai, and a lack of staff meant the bakery would be closed until after the holidays. So here she was, alone in her dimly lit house with little else to do than bake a few sheets of cookies while snow and wind whipped at the walls.

She wasn’t necessarily going to complain about her situation, though. After all, there were probably worse ways to spend the holidays than filling your home with the scent of various kinds of fresh cookies. It was more that something just felt amiss after the last few years of noise, that it almost felt wrong to have a quiet night entirely to herself after so long.

With her family some five thousand miles away, however, there weren’t exactly a lot of options otherwise. She definitely wasn’t about to hope for an Akuma attack, and ruling that out left her with little else beyond seeing if anyone had a spare stocking on the wall.

Even if she did such a thing, would it be rude? Alya always said that she’d have a spot with her family if she wanted or needed it, and Nino had expressed similar sentiments. The idea of going to Adrien’s and spending not only Christmas Eve with him, but Christmas day too, was nice even if it wasn’t exactly realistic.

Somewhat mindlessly, she started pulling her phone out of her pocket and scrolled through her contacts. There was next to no chance that she’d end up at Adrien’s, but that didn’t stop her thumb from hovering over his number for a few extra seconds. She didn’t quite consider herself close enough to Nino to risk barging in on his family’s Christmas, so she moved back up towards Alya.

Maybe she should just be content with her quiet night. That’s what caused some further hesitation as she stared down at the pixelated image of her best friend. Her parents had even left her gifts under the tree already, so she could spend the next day unwrapping whatever she’d gotten and watching cheesy Christmas movies.

Marinette tilted her head to the side and hummed in further thought. Something about opening gifts alone seemed hollow, even if she was given the okay to do so. Much like the night at hand, the idea didn’t feel quite right. So her attention went back to her phone and her thumb soon tapped on Alya’s contact.

Swallowing whatever nerves came with trying to form a last minute text message, Marinette typed away on her phone. She explained her situation and tried to frame things in the most positive light she could. A brief hum followed as she read over her words again and, dissatisfied with the outcome, she started to erase it and started again.

This time, she worded things somewhat better. It was certainly important to note that the worst of her cold had passed, as was mentioning that this was a one time thing. She certainly hoped it would be, at least. A new and somewhat improved message flowed from her fingertips and onto the screen.

Then, she hesitated, again. This was a much more difficult task than she would have imagined. Tapping the backspace button, the letters disappeared as she took a deep inhale and readied herself to try again. Rather than dumping the entire situation in one message, she figured an icebreaker of sorts would help.

“Hey, girl! Hope you’re staying warm tonight!” Her fingers wrote, briefly wondering if the exclamation points weren’t a bit overkill. “I have a question I need to ask if you’re not too busy or anything. It’s fine if you are, though! No worries <3”

She exhaled and pressed send. A few seconds passed before it actually sent, but with that she set her phone down on the counter behind her and leaned back. It wasn’t like she was against spending the holidays with her best friend or anything, quite the opposite in fact. It was more that she was still apprehensive about possibly dropping in like this, but maybe-

Marinette’s thought train suddenly came to a halt as the loud noise of something crashing erupted somewhere nearby. Her eyes rolled around some in an attempt to trace the noise as she moved quickly through her kitchen. She glanced out the nearest window to assess the situation.

Nothing seemed amiss from what she could see, everything seemed to be in order. Snow was still pounding down and the wind was still whipping. A few cars passed by and there even seemed to be a set of carolers on the sidewalk.

She stared out for a bit longer to see if perhaps it was something hidden. There’d been more than a few stealthy Akuma, after all. Nothing changed, however, and with no one outside reacting to anything whatsoever, that left her with only one other idea.

It came from her roof.

Quickly, she turned the dial on her oven down and made for the staircase. A mental checklist flew through her mind as she tried to figure out what she might have felt outside. Her sun chair had been indoors since winter started, as were her potted plants. She didn’t think it was windy enough for her tea table to have blown away, so she couldn’t be sure.

Still, she was pretty certain that’s where the noise came from, and continued trying to figure out what it could have been on her way through her bedroom. Aside from something blowing over from another house, nothing seemed to fit the bill. She let out a hum while climbing over her bed and moving up her ladder before briefly stopping just before reaching the trapdoor.

Marinette cocked an eyebrow at the sound of further clattering on her balcony and cautiously peeked through the hatch. Slowly, her eyes roamed the area from one side until she spotted the culprit. Or at least, roughly half of the culprit, considering the other half was covered in the slight mound of snow that had accumulated throughout the day.

“Chat Noir?” She questioned aloud, staring at the bottom half of a leather-clad figure with a belt tail she found herself hoping actually was her costumed partner.

Said belt tail twitched as the person shifted around and attempted to dig themselves out of the snow. With one sudden push, the pile disappeared and in its place stood a snowy Chat Noir.

“Guess I missed the chimney.” He said, dusting the powder off. Marinette did not have a chimney.

The wind calmed around them for the time being as a slight silence befell the balcony. He merely stood brushing himself off, while she popped her head further out the hatch and continued trying to process what was going on.

“You, uh,” Marinette cleared her throat and stepped onto the balcony. “You okay?”

“Oh, yeah, yep!” Chat smiled widely. He even gave her a thumbs up for good measure, the ears on his head flicking some remaining snow off.

“You sure? It sounded like you fell.” She flatly stated. Admittedly, it was hard to know how to react to a situation like this. It was almost surprising that it hadn’t happened before.

“Uh, well…I kinda did.” He leaned down to collect his baton, something he might have done to hide some sort of embarrassment. “Guess Santa Paws hit an ice patch or something and just sorta slipped, it is pretty hard to see right now, y’know?”

“Right.” Marinette flatly said as she nodded along slowly. “Speaking of, can I ask...why you’re out? Is there an Akuma around?”

“No.” Chat replied. “Er, not that I know of. Not yet. That’s actually why I was out! I was doing a patrol around the city to see if any supervillains were around.”

Marinette’s eyebrow raised.

“All alone in the middle of the night?”

He stammered for a moment, obviously a bit flustered. The fall must have done more damage to his pride than anything else, she figured.

“Well, yeah.” Chat answered, flashing a few teeth behind an exaggerated grin. “You never know when or where they might crop up, after all. Better safe than sorry!”

Marnette didn’t know what to say. It’s not that he was necessarily wrong, and they had been doing the occasional patrol over the last few months, but they usually did them together. Or rather, he would patrol with Ladybug. So his running around the city alone definitely seemed odd.

“And Ladybug’s...home sick?” She stifled a slight chuckle at how clever she felt. All things considered, she’d know if he was telling the truth here or not, even if she couldn’t exactly out him if he wasn’t.

Her question seemed to cause him to freeze up somewhat, though, an unexpected reaction. There was some low mumbling she didn’t quite hear and a few gestures of his hands, but he didn’t manage to give a straight answer after what felt like a good minute or so. She knew him well enough to know something was definitely off.

“Hey,” Marinette took the few steps needed to close the gap between them. Her hand cautiously reached for his shoulder and stopped his muttering. “Is everything okay?”

Chat chewed the inside of his mouth for a moment. His eyes avoided hers, instead focusing on the ground while he attempted to formulate a reply.

“I, uh...don’t wanna get too heavy on you or anything.” He said.

She was just a civilian, after all.

“It’s okay.” Marinette replied. Hard to shut those Ladybug instincts down with her snow-covered partner taking up residency on her balcony while clearly in some form of distress. Still, she had to make sure she wasn’t coming across as too eager. “I mean, I’m not gonna pry or anything, but I don’t mind listening.”

Chat mulled it over for a bit. Sure, he knew who Marinette was and trusted her almost as much as he did Ladybug, but Chat Noir didn’t. At least, not after the scant few interactions they’d had over the years. Maybe it’d be easier without the leather, though that wasn’t much of an option.

Still, the offer of an otherwise friendly ear was extremely tempting at the moment. Especially after plummeting however many feet through the Parisian sky.

“Without getting into the details,” He started after an inhale. “Christmas has been...kind of a rough time for me over the last few years. There’s been some good ones and everything, but sometimes it just...gets to me.”

Marinette nodded, adjusting her robe some. The wind started whipping up again, sending flakes of snow flying all around them as she realized just how cold it was.

“Er, hey, not to make this any weirder,” She spoke up, wishing she opted for the sweater over the t-shirt she picked. “But it’s pretty cold up here, so...would you mind if we take this inside?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” Chat replied a bit quicker than he might have intended. The super suit offered him some protection from the elements, but even he noticed just how cold it had gotten. He tapped the metal toes of his boots on the floor and then perked up with a question of his own. “Should I go down the hatch, or?”

“Eh,” Marinette gave a slight shrug, eyeing him over. She glanced at the snow caked onto his shoes, likely why he asked in the first place. “I needed to wash my bed stuff soon anyway, so I don’t mind.”

With that, she stepped back and climbed down the ladder with Chat following cautiously behind. Halfway down the ladder, he reached up and nudged the hatch so that it fell shut before hesitantly pressing his boots to her mattress. Marinette snickered some at that while she walked down the steps and waited by her bedroom door.

Chat opted to hop from her bed to the floor, striking an unnecessarily stylish pose as he glanced over at the wall full of posters and pictures of a certain blonde model. He then shot her a smirk from his crouched position and she gave him a light laugh before nodding out the door, a silent instruction for him to follow her through the house. He tapped the tips of his toes on a nearby towel on the floor to try and track as little snow as possible.

Marinette acted as a guide as they made their way through a house he found himself quite familiar with by now. It wasn’t much of a journey as the destination she was leading them to, her kitchen, was just another staircase or so away. He walked through the living room to join her and couldn’t help but smile at how unchanged it was from the last time he’d been here.

“Peanut butter?” He asked after taking a whiff of the oven.

“Yep.” Marinette replied, twisting a dial and opening the door. “Been making cookies all day and that was the last kind I had left. They should be just about done actually.”

“I can get that, if you want.” Chat chimed in, leaning over next to her. Marinette gestured at the appliance and let him go.

He stepped in front of the dimly glowing, and deliciously smelling, chamber and eased a hand inside. Heat radiated off and ran along his face while he swiftly pulled the pan out. Dropping it on the top, Chat flapped his hand around some and blew on it a few times.

“You alright?” Marinette lightly giggled.

“Oh, yeah,” Chat nodded, giving a laugh of his own. “Just...kinda thought it’d be colder.”

Marinette shook her head some and nudged a few cookies that ended up on top of each other after his sudden movements apart. To be entirely fair, she still wasn’t sure what the limit of protection the suits offered was, so this was something of a learning experience for the both of them.

“Alright, well, let’s let those cool for a bit.” She said, moving to her cabinets. “Care for a cup of cocoa?”

He hesitated again, eyes wandering out the window. Marinette could see conflict on his face, even if she wasn’t sure what it was.

“Yeah.” Chat eventually answered. “I’d like that.”

She gave him a shake of her head and retrieved two cups and a large bowl from her cupboard. Then she pulled out some cocoa mix while he took the liberty of getting the milk and whipped cream from her fridge. He poured the milk while she tore open the packets and dumped them in. She used a little extra, just in case either of them wanted more later. A few stirs of a spoon later and the mixture was in the microwave.

“So.” Marinette leaned against her counter. “Still got something on your mind, huh?”

“Oh, uh,” Chat stuttered for a moment as he took a seat at her table. “I guess so, yeah.”

“I’m not gonna push or anything,” Marinette decided to explain her position on the matter, keeping a smile to try and help him be more comfortable. “But I know having someone to talk to can help sometimes, even if they don’t know what to say, and you’ve been around here often enough that I don’t mind.”

“I have, haven’t I?” Chat gave her a smile of his own. It only really just sunk in how frequently he ended up at her house, specifically in the leather. “Can I ask you something first, though?”

“Sure.” She openly agreed.

“Are we...friends, Marinette?”

His question caused a brief silence. A near tension, even, as Marinette thought on it. She didn’t have to ponder the answer all that much, of course they were friends, but it could be a bit difficult to explain why she felt so strongly if he asked. So she tempered herself and gave a direct, if somewhat passive answer.

“I think so, yeah.” Marinette replied as the microwave hummed behind her. “I consider you one, at least.”

Chat smiled at that.

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat and shot her a wink. “Back at’cha.”

“Anyway.” Marinette chuckled, popping the door open with a second left on the clock. She fixed their drinks, complete with spraying the whipped cream he left on the counter, as she waited for his next words.

“Anyway,” Chat picked up. “I guess it’s just kinda hard to explain.”

“Take your time, kitty.” She passed him a drink and briefly froze up after realizing what she’d called him. Not that he seemed to notice.

“Well,” He took a sip and then stared down at the cup. “A few years ago, I...lost someone close to me, and they loved Christmas. They loved most holidays, actually”

“Mhm.” Marinette hummed to assure him she was listening.

“And it’s hard not to think of them sometimes, especially during this time of year.” Chat continued. “Plus, I’m kinda living on my own this year, so it’s just me, y’know?”

“I understand.” She gave him a nod, even if he wasn’t looking.

“But, yeah,” Chat exhaled a breath and decided to be honest. His green gaze met hers again for the first time since she handed him his drink. “Sometimes I just have to...get out, try to clear my head or distract myself, and that’s what I was doing. I...didn’t want to be alone.”

“Oh.” Was what Marinette muttered. Her heart seemed to sink in her chest some, and suddenly it all made sense. “I’m...sorry to hear that, Chat.”

“Yeah…” He mumbled, thumbs tapping the side of his cup before he sat it down on the table behind him. Before another second passed, he stood up and started to turn towards the staircase. “Sorry, I should...I should go.”

“Wait,” Marinette called out. She couldn’t let him leave like that, like this. ”Wait, hold on.”

“No, it’s okay.” Chat gave her a slight wave without even looking at her. “Happy holidays, Marinette.”

“Wait.” Marinette said again. She didn’t even notice she’d dashed through the kitchen and grabbed the cuff around his wrist until she looked up. It must have been something of an instinct at this point, a reflex. “I-I mean, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“Uh,” Chat blinked for a moment, stammering behind his barely parted lips. From the looks of it, neither of them expected her to grab his arm the way she did. “No, really, it’s okay. Thanks for listening to me and everything, but I don’t wanna ruin your family’s Christmas or anything.

“My parents are on vacation, actually. That’s why the bakery isn’t open” Marinette replied, chuckling some as she stepped up closer to him. “Did you think I was inviting you in for a meal with my family again?”

“No, I just...hadn’t noticed. You did say you've been baking all day, so-” Chat stopped himself for a moment to check his mental calendar. “Wait. It is Christmas Eve, right?”

“Yeah, it is.” Marinette nodded, sitting her cup of cocoa down on the table next to his. “Their flight got delayed a few days because of the storm, I guess, so now instead of making it back tonight they’ll be getting here sometime on Friday.”

“Ah.” Chat swallowed and shook his head some.

“So I guess I’m...kind of alone this Christmas, too.” She added. “And I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to stick around for the night. It’d be nice having an extra set of claws when it comes time to open presents tomorrow, too.”

“That, um,” He paused, glancing around the room. He really hadn’t noticed how quiet it was until now. His hesitation gradually started to fade, along with the remnants of the conflict on his face. While he didn’t want to be invasive, it was hard to turn down an offer that came with as much warmth as the one she was offering.

They were friends, after all.

“That’d be nice.” Chat eventually smiled.

“I certainly hope so.” Marinette gave him a smirk of her own. More than that, she then wrapped her other arm around his form and embraced him in a tight hug.

“Thank you, Marinette.” Chat said after processing what was happening. His own arms curled around her shoulders and snuggled her to his body, a gentle purr emanating from his chest.

#Miraculous Ladybug #mlsecretsanta #marichat #marinette dupen chang #chat noir #noblefic #had a few peeps read this over so I hope it came out good yo!!

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 5 years ago

Text

Recovery

I was several prompts behind in @drawlight‘s advent challenge.

So I, uh, I did all of them.

8,500+ words hurt/comfort snowed in and there’s only one bed tenderness bonding pining bedsharing walking arm-in-arm protective crowley hurt aziraphale makeovers Greek poetry genuine affection and then I BREAK YOUR HEART.

This is your only warning.

15 - Laughter 16 - Ice Storm 17 - Ornament 20 - Reindeer 21 - Gift

Aziraphale woke, which was itself unusual, because he didn’t remember falling asleep.

He didn’t like sleeping. It was strange, it was pointless, and downright disorienting. His mind was filled with patent nonsense about…trees? Swimming? Something about the Garden of Eden. And a lengthy diatribe on different cloak materials given by…Gabriel, he thought.

All of that faded away into a sense of being comfortably buried in a pile of soft, dark feathers, an earthy smell, mixed with smoke and pine, and warmth.

This was the point where he woke up.

He was still trying to sort out what was dream and what was reality. The scents seemed real, the soft pile seemed to be furs (some of them dark), not feathers. He tried to sit up, but his limbs still felt all soft and heavy…

“Are you finally awake, then?” demanded a very familiar voice.

Suddenly, Aziraphale had all the energy he needed to sit upright. There, not ten feet away, stood a certain demon in black breeches and belted tunic. A certain demon, he realized in a rush of heat, who had made a small but rather memorable appearance in his dream.

“C – Crawley! What are you doing here?”

Golden eyes stared at him for a moment. “Well, I live here, for a start.”

Aziraphale looked around – as his eyes adjusted, he could see that they were in a small, round hut, with a tall conical roof. The fire in the center illuminated Crawley, but mostly just created darker shadows. Just enough light to see that the walls were stone filled in with mud and straw, the roof a thick thatch of some form. In the darkness on the other side of the hearth, a rectangle of light marked the entryway, covered by some kind of mat.

“Ah. Right. And…where is here, exactly?”

“Probably the fourth most miserable island I’ve had the misfortune to be assigned to. The locals call it Pritani, though this far north it’s Alba.”

“That sounds familiar.” The fog of sleep had mostly cleared, and he could now remember Gabriel, rather rudely interrupting his lunch in Halicarnassos to tell Aziraphale he’d been reassigned. A quick message to deliver to one of the tribal leaders, teleport in and out, back before you know it. “I thought it was in the Celtic lands.”

“Oh, it is. This is definitely Celtic land.”

“Then wh –” Aziraphale very abruptly realized that the pile of furs he was lying among was almost certainly Crawley’s bed. He still wasn’t sure how he’d gotten there, but he needed to get out of it. Immediately.

He tossed aside the layers covering him, jumping to his feet – and instantly regretted it.

Despite the fire, the hut was frigid. Aziraphale’s feet froze on contact with the bare earth, and a cold wind seemed to twist around him, cutting through the light linen of his knee-length wrap. The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck prickled, standing up, and he felt the shivers begin somewhere between his shoulder blades and ripple out through his entire body.

Aziraphale had never, ever been so cold.

He snapped his fingers, trying to increase the heat of the fire.

Nothing.

He tried again, attempting to manifest warmer clothes.

Nothing.

Aziraphale snapped his fingers over and over, trying to summon his cloak, a bowl of soup, even one of the furs off the bed behind him.

Nothing worked.

“What…” he demanded faintly, suddenly unable to focus. “What did you do…?”

“I didn’t do anything, except drag you in here out of an ice storm. Get back in that bed before you discorporate on me.” Despite his harsh tone, Crawley’s hands were gentle as he shoved Aziraphale back onto the fur-covered bench, pulling the thickest back over him. “Stay here, or I swear I’ll sit on you.”

“This is absurd, why am I – why can’t I –” He sneezed.

They both stared in shock for a moment. Angels sneezed even less often than they slept.

“If you’ve got some wretched virus,” Crawley growled warningly, “you’re on your own. I’m not making you soup or…whatever it is humans do.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m an angel. I don’t get sick.” Or cold. Or tired. Or lose my ability to perform miracles. He finally relented, curling up in the bed on his side. “Do you…do you know what happened?”

Crawley shrugged, stepping back to tend to the fire again. “I was sitting here, getting ready for another bloody winter of ice and ten-foot snow drifts when suddenly I sensed a lot of power somewhere in the area. I figured either a small angelic army was about to appear on my threshold, or some idiot had just teleported himself across the entire continent without preparing properly. So, I went to check it out.” He glared across the fire, eyes catching the light like golden embers. “One idiot, frozen almost solid.”

“But I did prepare myself,” Aziraphale insisted. “I’ve been to the Celtic lands before, and I’ve never burned out my powers doing it.” He shivered, huddling deeper under the furs. “And it certainly wasn’t so cold, either.”

“Really? Which tribes have you visited, then?”

“Many! Thracians, Illyrians, Dacians. Not to mention the tribes north of the Latin cities.”

Crawley hmm’d over that rather longer than he needed to. “Sounds like you haven’t really been outside the Greek-speaking sphere, then.”

“I went to Iberia once,” he admitted. That could explain things, if he’d teleported himself from the eastern end of the Mediterranean to the western. “The Lusitani, then?”

“Getting closer. Go north.”

“Gauls?”

“More north.”

Aziraphale had to wrack his brains. He’d never even heard of people living beyond the Gauls. “Belgae?” he ventured.

Crawley sighed and pointed towards the entryway. “We’re about eight miles northwest of the nearest Votadini settlement; go north about a day and you get into Pictish lands. Right here, though, is just about the middle of nowhere.”

“I’ve…never heard of any of that. Are we…far from Halicarnassos?”

“Oh, Angel. You just teleported yourself about twenty-five hundred miles. You’ll be lucky to get your power back before spring.”

It had taken over an hour of searching the woods to find Aziraphale, his sense so dim it might as well have not existed.

An ice storm isn’t as dramatic as the name sounds. It looks, from the safety of a warm shelter, like a gentle rain. Except that each drop burned with cold where it found bare skin, except that the ground froze into layer after layer of slick white ice, except that the wind cut through everything, biting, tearing away every bit of warmth.

Even with his full power, creating a bubble of warmth under his furs, Crawley had been miserable every second he’d been outside. How much worse, then, for Aziraphale?

Crawley had found him, unconscious and barely shivering, under a fir tree, useless linen cloak soaked through, ice already forming in his hair. There’d been a scroll clutched in his hand, but the ink had run, the message ruined.

A few quick miracles had stabilized the now-all-too-mortal angel; now he just needed time to recover his strength. He’d slept through most of the day, pale white face nestled among the dark furs of Crawley’s bed. He snored. Not very angelic, a snore like that.

Now that he was awake – now that he was aware of how badly he’d burned himself out – Crawley let Aziraphale sulk, hiding under the covers, for a bit longer. Then he dropped a pile of clothes on the end of the sleeping bench. “You’ll want to get changed. Fine linen won’t do you much good up here.”

The angel sat up, tugging at the tunic Crawley had manifested for him. It wasn’t easy, manifesting clothes for someone else, since Crawley generally just made them appear on his own body. Nothing his size would fit, so he’d probably erred on the side of making them too big. Leggings. Tunic. Wool cloak. All in undyed white, since Aziraphale probably wouldn’t appreciate black and red.

“You, ah, you didn’t need to do this.”

“Yes, I did. Once you’re ready I can walk you to whichever settlement you’re supposed to be at and you can spend the winter with them. But if you try and step out dressed like that, you’ll probably be discorporated in less than an hour.”

“Well. I suppose you have a point.” Aziraphale pulled his arms out from under the fur and quickly unhooked one of the pins holding his wrap together. It parted at the neck, revealing quite a lot of bicep and chest.

Crawley spun away, startled at how hot his face felt. It was just a body, for Satan’s sake. Not even his real body, just a false one he wore to look human. There was no reason to feel embarrassed or…whatever this other emotion was.

“I’ll just. Get some more firewood while you do that.” He hurried out, pushing aside the willow mat to step into the frigid air once again.

Most of the firewood had already been moved inside; realistically he wouldn’t need to replenish from the woodpile for at least a month. But the slap of the wind in his face, the splash of rain down the back of his neck, was exactly what he needed just now.

The ground was treacherous, even more than it had been this morning. He waved his fingers, manifesting a clear path, but even as he walked it began to freeze up again, and where the water stayed liquid it leaked into his shoes, freezing his toes.

It took ten minutes to get enough dry wood free from the pile to make the trip worth it. That should be more than enough time for the angel to figure out breeches. But walking back with his armload of wood only reminded him of the other burden he’d carried in earlier.

He hadn’t wanted to carry Aziraphale in his arms. Oh, he could miracle himself strong enough for the task, for a short while at least. But it had seemed almost a violation of trust, an intimacy that he should have asked permission for. To have his arms around the shoulders and legs, to feel the soft curve of the belly pressed into his, to have Aziraphale’s face rest on his shoulder, so close…

To hear that breath get more and more shallow, to feel the heat slip away…

With a shudder, he pushed back through the mat into the dark roundhouse. Aziraphale was sitting on the side of the bed, fiddling with the brooch that held his cloak shut.

“Here, I’ll do it.” Crawley tossed aside the wood. He could stack it later. He sat down on the bed, and found that Aziraphale was trying to clasp his cloak with one of the long, straight fibulae that had held together his linen outfit. “This isn’t going to work. Use one of mine.” He snapped his fingers and summoned – oops.

“How interesting.” Aziraphale picked up the nearly circular piece of iron. The metal was twisted, as if coiled, and the two ends where they parted had the shape of snake heads. “I suppose serpents are quite fashionable, aren’t they?” His tone suggested he was teasing, but Crawley couldn’t see any hint of it in his eyes.

“I can…I can make a new one. What do you want? Just plain? Maybe some feathers?”

“No, this is fine. I want to blend in, don’t I?”

Crawley shrugged, and quickly jabbed the penannular brooch through the wool of the cloak, fastening it over his left shoulder. “When you want to take it off, just pull it over your head. Don’t mess around with the pin again.”

“Of course.” Aziraphale stood up. “I suppose, yes, this outfit is fine. If you could see your way to giving me some shoes, I can be out of your hair.”

“So soon?”

“I was under the impression that my presence was making things difficult for you.”

Crawley gulped, tracing the toe of his shoe through the earthen floor. “Not difficult, really. I just…I thought you were really sick for a bit. I don’t know how to take care of someone who’s sick. Kind of useless like that.”

“It would appear you have taken care of me…more than adequately.”

Crawley nodded. “Well, if you go out now, you will get sick. And then I’m stuck with you making all kinds of weird body fluids. Let’s wait until the storm is over.”

By the time night fell, the rain still hadn’t stopped. Crawley manifested some hot food – roasted meat, berries and nuts, a bit of bread.

“I’m not very good at it yet,” he grumbled, taking a drink of something from a mug. He had stockpiled several large jars of alcoholic-smelling liquid, but very little actual food. “I only eat occasionally, so I don’t practice.”

“Well, it tastes very…authentic,” Aziraphale encouraged. It did taste exactly like real food, or at least he couldn’t tell it wasn’t. He didn’t know what these particular berries were supposed to taste like. “And it’s quite filling,” he added, breaking off another piece of bread.

“Nh. I can make you more of the same, but that’s about it. You’re going to need to eat and sleep every day until your powers return.”

“I’m sure I can manage on this for as long as I need to.” He hesitated, hand halfway to his mouth. “Sleep, too?”

Crawley shrugged. “Maybe every two days. I don’t know how it works with angels. Are you feeling tired yet?”

“No.” Aziraphale struggled to stay sitting up. “I’m just… My mind feels a little slow. And my head is heavy. And my legs feel…strange…”

Crawley laughed a little. “Yes, that’s the exhaustion. Lay down for a bit.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “No, certainly not. I slept enough today.” Perhaps a quick walk would clear his head, if only there was somewhere to go.

“Doesn’t matter, Angel. You’ve been sick and, healing or no, you need rest.”

“I’m not tired, Crawley. It’s probably just all the smoke. Why do you have the fire in the middle of your living chamber? It can’t be good for the lungs.”

“It keeps the walls from freezing. And I can see you’re tired, it’s all over your face.”

“You’re lying.” Aziraphale caught himself rubbing his hand against his eye and slapped it down on the ground.

“Aziraphale. Do I have to force you back into the bed?”

“You wouldn’t.”

Crawley considered this. “You’re right. I wouldn’t. Seems like a strange thing to do. Sleep on the floor if you like, it’s what I plan to do.”

“Now you’re just being silly. You take the bed, I’m not planning to sleep.”

Crawley just rolled his eyes and drained his cup. Then he stretched out next to the banked fire, as if he hadn’t even heard the suggestion. “Night.”

“Don’t be absurd, I know you can’t fall asleep that quickly.” No response except for the gentle flicker of the cooling coals. Aziraphale stared at them, hoping the light and heat would give him something to focus on. And he could recite.

“Achilles’ wrath, to Greece the direful spring Of woes unnumber’d, heavenly goddess sing! That wrath which hurl’d to Pluto’s gloomy reign The souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain…”

He tried to focus on the words, to ignore the way his voice started to slur them almost immediately, the way he kept faltering through the familiar lines. It was like being drunk, but not being able to sober up. And there was the yawning. Just losing control over his jaw, his breathing. How do humans live like this?

“…’Instab…Insatiate king,’ this man relied, ‘Fond of power…ah…fonder…something…prize! Would’st thou the Greeks…their something something prey… The…spoils? No reward, oh blast, of…field…should yield!’”

“So, is everyone in this poem an ass?”

“Beg your pardon?” Aziraphale didn’t even have the energy to be indignant. His whole brain felt stuffed full of cotton.

“All the men fighting over who gets to torment which women. Do the women kill them all in the end?”

“Mmmmh, no, mostly they kill each other.” He struggled to remember. “Agamemnon gets killed by his wife, though.”

“Nice.” A pair of gold eyes appeared in the darkness beyond the hearth. “Just lay down and go to sleep. You need it.”

“No. I hate it.” Aziraphale rubbed his face again. “I hate sleeping. It’s a waste of time, doesn’t make sense, and gets all…dreamlike,” he found he couldn’t even make a sentence. “And it feels like dying.”

“What?”

“Falling asleep. Mind slipping away. Everything goes dim. Like dying.” He dug both hands into his eyes. “Don’t know if I’ll wake up.”

“Of course you’ll wake up. There’s nothing wrong with you, Aziraphale, and your body is fine, just a little worn out. Even if something did go wrong, you’d wake up back in Heaven.”

He shook his head. Then he shook it again, hoping the movement might help. It didn’t.

Suddenly, Crawley was standing next to him. “Get in the bed.”

“Mmmh?”

“You’re about to fall over on the floor. It’s going to be undignified, and you’ll be embarrassed in the morning. Just get into the bed.”

Aziraphale was too tired to protest. The soft furs embraced him, and once more were piled on top, it was all he could do from slipping into complete insensibility.

Crawley knelt beside the bed. “I’ll be right here. Nothing’s going to happen to you while you’re asleep.” He placed his hand on the furs next to Aziraphale, and he found his own fingers curling around the demon’s warm palm.

“You need to sleep,” Aziraphale reminded him, voice now thick and slow.

“Nah. I only sleep cuz I like it. You’re the one who needs to sleep.” Crawley’s thumb traced across the back of his hand. “Just close your eyes. You’re almost there.”

Aziraphale didn’t remember falling asleep.

He did remember that this dream featured more than just a brief appearance of red hair and golden eyes.

When he finally awoke, it was to find Crawley still beside him, still holding his hand, and fast asleep.

The demon’s head rested on one of the furs, red hair spilling around it. It was shorter than he usually wore it – a little more than shoulder length – and bits of it were woven into braids, while other parts were loose and free.

Feeling strangely emboldened – maybe from the sleep, maybe from the dream – Aziraphale reached over and shifted one braid where it hung across Crawley’s face, tucking it back behind his ear. The demon’s face was so relaxed, none of his usual sour expression. So peaceful.

Carefully, so as not to disturb him, Aziraphale got out of the bed and set about building the fire. When Crawley finally woke, Aziraphale didn’t tell him how they’d slept, fingers entwined, faces so close. How could he explain it?

What if it made Crawley angry?

What if it didn’t?

“We should try going for a walk,” Crawley said as Aziraphale picked at some food by the fire. “The nearest settlement is a little less than a day in either direction. I want to make sure you have your strength back before we try that.”

Aziraphale frowned. “I’m fine, Crawley. There’s no need to worry.”

“You only slept the entire day yesterday. Nothing to worry about, I’m sure.” He squinted at Aziraphale’s face, which had been bright pink all morning. “And you look a bit flushed. Maybe we should stay in after all, you might be getting worse.”

“Stop fussing. I’m probably just…sitting too close to the fire.” Aziraphale climbed to his feet. “If walking will prove I’m fine, then we walk. I will need some form of foot covering, of course.”

Crawley manifested a pair of leather shoes, then another when the first didn’t fit. He added extra woolen leg wraps, a felted hat, and finally a large, heavy fur. Again and again, Aziraphale told him not to fret – but he put on each new addition.

Crawley still didn’t like how pale he looked, in between the moments of pink flush. Of course, wearing so much white was bound to make anyone look sallow; but the only other color Crawley knew how to make was black.

“Are you satisfied?” Aziraphale asked. “I look like a ball of cotton.”

“One more.” He snapped his fingers and produced a long wool scarf.

“Really, my dear fellow, I don’t think I’m going to need a sweat cloth out there.”

“What? No, up here they wear them for warmth.” He showed the angel how to wrap it around his neck, cover his mouth, and tuck the rest under his furs.

“There really is no need to worry,” Aziraphale started again in a slightly muffled voice.

“Maybe a pair of mittens?”

“I’m walking outside now.”

The storm had covered the world in beautiful devastation. Every twig on every tree was coated with almost half an inch of perfectly clear ice, sparkling in the sunlight. Several smaller ones had been pulled double, bent to the ground under the weight of frozen water. Enormous icicles hung from the eaves of the roundhouse.

“It’s incredible,” Aziraphale breathed, a hiss of white vapor working its way out from under the scarf. “I assume your home isn’t usually in the middle of a lake.”

“Nope.” He rammed his heel into the ground, planning to break off a piece, but instead nearly fell over. Aziraphale laughed as he skidded, grabbing at the roundhouse for balance. “Never mind that. But it’s not even two inches thick.” He waved a finger at the path ahead, parting the ice enough for the two of them to walk side-by-side.

The angel looked around appreciatively as their path brought them deeper into the white forest. “It’s very quiet, though,” he said suddenly. “No birds or anything.”

“I don’t know about down in the Greek lands, but most birds and animals don’t stick around once it starts getting cold. They either sleep through it or head further south.”

“Hmm. I like the sound of that. Winters in Ephesus or Neapolis are definitely warmer. Where would you rather be?”

“Ah, I’m not much for migration. Normally I sleep through the winter, but someone’s been using my bed.”

When Crawley realized what he’d said, he wished he could encase himself in ice. No chance Aziraphale missed it, either, he was looking right at Crawley, and with everything else buried in warm layers it was very obvious how wide his eyes were, how high his eyebrows.

“But, you know, some animals are very stupid. Some birds from even further north like to spend the winter here. Probably moved on ahead of this storm, but if you’re lucky there might be some ducks at the lake. Would you like to see the ducks?”

He was babbling, but he needed something, anything to get Aziraphale to stop staring at him like that. He walked off, as fast as he could, leaving the angel to hurry in his wake.

“Crawley! Slow down!”

He turned to walk backwards, planning to say something clever, but realized Aziraphale was genuinely struggling. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just…” He bent over, hands planted on his knees, gasping for breath. “I don’t seem to have any, you know, stamina today.”

Crawley rushed back over, pulling down the scarf to get a good look at Aziraphale’s face, studying his eyes especially. “I don’t like how you look. We’re going back.”

“Oh, not yet.” Aziraphale took another breath. “I’m not that weak. Can we walk to the lake? I would like to see the ducks.”

“It’s pretty far. I’m not sure you can make it.”

“No, I’ll be fine. I just can’t go too fast.” Aziraphale smiled, but Crawley wasn’t convinced.

“Fine. But hold onto my arm.”

“Crawley, I’m not an invalid.”

“Take my arm or we’re going back.” He held out his right elbow, and after a moment Aziraphale slipped his arms through. “Alright. This way.”

It was a rather long way to the lake, and more than once Aziraphale was glad to have Crawley’s arm to lean on. Not that he would say that.

“I haven’t seen any other houses.”

“And you won’t. No one lives on this strip of land except me.”

“Whyever not? It’s quite lovely and peaceful here.”

“Only because everyone’s bundled up inside for the winter. There’s at least four different tribes in easy walking distance from here, and they’re constantly fighting, stealing each other’s cattle, and generally making nuisances of themselves.”

“That’s a pity. Why…” Aziraphale glared at him. “Crawley.”

“What? I’m a demon. Did you think I was up here getting in touch with nature for my health? For some reason, Hell constantly wants to see them fighting each other, so every week I’m Tempting one clan leader or another tribal elder. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.” He shrugged. “They are loud, though, so I usually take the winter off.”

“Still. I can’t believe you’ve been up here for – how many years now? Just making sure a few hundred people are constantly at war?”

“They do most of the work themselves, honestly. They were fighting long before I showed up, and they’ll be fighting long after I’m reassigned to some other unnamed pile of rock in the middle of nowhere. Which is just about every decade. I’ve been here for seven years now.”

“Seems rather pointless, when you put it like that,” Aziraphale murmured, looking again around the silent glass forest.

“I mean, it’s better than being Gabriel’s messenger boy. Don’t look at me like that,” he snapped as Aziraphale turned his glare back at Crawley. “You told me yourself he’s been sending you to deliver messages all around the Mediterranean. Are they really that important? Is what you came up here to say worth risking your life for?”

“Not my life, just my corporation,” Aziraphale insisted, then sighed. “But, no, I memorized the message before I came over, and I don’t think it was worth the journey.”

“Really? What did it say?”

The angel tried to look stern. “I’m to tell one of the tribal leaders to stop fighting with his neighbors.” Crawley’s eyes went wide with shock, and suddenly Aziraphale couldn’t hold back the smile. “There were several very elaborate pleas and arguments I was supposed to make, you know. Very convincing material.”

Crawley threw back his head and laughed. “Well. I’m sure whatever Gabriel wrote for you to say is more than enough to counteract my influence.”

“Oh, it was a very compelling argument. All about the many advantages of joining civilization.”

“Really? Advantages?” Aziraphale didn’t like the grin Crawley was giving him now. “Name one.”

“Name one? It’s civilization, it’s all advantages.” Aziraphale huffed. “Fine. Roads.”

“Already have them. Nice and broad and connecting most of the settlements.”

“Trade networks.”

“Have those, too. It’s a bit slow, but the metals get where they need to be.”

“Literature.”

“No one needs your misogynistic war poem. Next.”

“Fine, how about writing? Do they even have record keeping?”

“Nope. But talk to some Druids, they have this oral tradition thing down to a science.”

“Bath houses.”

“Natural hot springs.”

“Stone working.”

“Did you see my house?”

“Monumental architecture.”

“Make sure you visit some of the stone circles on your way out. Might not be Khufu’s pyramid, but it’s not nothing.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips. “You sound almost proud of them.”

Crawley didn’t even bother to hide his smile. “Look, they might be a bunch of cattle-stealing shit heads, but they don’t need an emperor or a king or a senate or some other collection of assholes sitting in a fancy building to tell them how to do things. They do fine on their own.”

“It’s not about the leader, it’s about a structured society. It’s the only way to get things accomplished!”

“Is it though?”

Aziraphale concentrated on walking, and fuming in silence. How much further was this stupid lake anyway?

Suddenly, Crawley stopped short. “Look!” he pointed ahead.

Between the trees, Aziraphale saw – not a lake, but a herd of enormous deer, half with antlers, covered in thick fur coats in brown and grey and white. They stomped at the ice, shuffling it aside to browse at dried grass, leaves, and even rocks. One scraped its fuzzy antlers at a tree trunk, cracking the ice, nibbling on the bark underneath.

“Those aren’t ducks,” Aziraphale said cleverly, watching the herd slowly move across their path.

“Obviously not. Reindeer. They don’t usually come this far from the mountains.”

They watched for a long time. There was something majestic, peaceful about the enormous creatures, nosing their way through the forest. Where a deer might have panicked and run, these hardly even spared a glance toward the angel and demon.

When they finally passed out of sight, Aziraphale realized he was leaning quite heavily on Crawley. “I suppose we should head back,” he said softly. “That’s more than enough for today.”

Another meal, another few hours by the fire, and Crawley was pleased to see Aziraphale’s color was turning back to something almost normal, by his standards. Not that he was watching.

At least, not obviously watching. He was holding the wool cloak he’d manifested the day before, trying to add a bit of color.

“It’s probably fine, Crawley,” Aziraphale said, watching him struggle. “I don’t mind wearing white.”

“Well, the people you’re supposed to visit will. Bright colors, fancy borders, lots of ornamentation. If you want to get their leader to listen to you, you’ll have to look the part.”

“I thought you didn’t like my message.”

“Just because you’re obviously doomed to failure doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get a chance to try.” He glanced up, then took a longer look. Aziraphale’s face had fallen, though he was trying not to show it. “What? What did I say?”

“No, it’s…you didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, I obviously did.” Crawley stood up and moved to sit beside the angel. “What is it now?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just.” He fiddled with his tunic, as if trying to figure out how it worked. “Whenever I have an original idea, Gabriel tells me I’m welcome to try, but it’s obviously doomed to failure. He’s usually right, too.”

“No he isn’t.” He focused on the cloak again, trying to imagine a pattern with simple stripes. “I’ve known you a long time. The ideas you come up with on your own are much better than whatever orders you’re given, and you know it. Have you actually ever successfully thwarted me by following what Gabriel told you to do?”

“Well, usually when I manage to thwart you, it’s because I convinced you that getting drunk was better than whatever you had planned.”

“And it works!” Crawley smiled at him. “I’m sure if you come up with your own argument for the leaders, it’ll work much better than the original message. Just don’t tell them to get drunk, they do that enough as it is.” He turned back to the cloak, which was now covered by a pattern of vertical and horizontal lines in beige, dark grey, and red. “Oh, what even is this?”

Aziraphale pulled it out of his hands. “I don’t know. It looks rather stylish to me.”

“You’re going to look ridiculous. No one dresses like that.”

“No one dresses like you either, dear. Maybe I should take a lesson from you.” He settled the cloak back around his shoulders, serpent pin under one ear, strange crossed line pattern falling down his shoulder. “What do you think?”

“It’s a start.” Crawley glanced at the willow mat; already all trace of sunlight was gone. Days were generally less than six hours this time of year. “But take it back off, you’ll just throttle yourself in your sleep.”

“Crawley, I’m not tired,” Aziraphale said, immediately betrayed by an enormous yawn.

“Yes, you are, because I’m also tired. Anyway, at least get under the furs so I can bank the fire. Then you can tell me more awful stories of horrible Greek men.”

Surprisingly, Aziraphale didn’t object this time. Crawley turned to the fire. With a flick of fingers, he lowered the flames to nothing, then carefully separated out the glowing coals, and piled ash on top of the remaining wood to keep it hot and ready to burn in the morning.

He turned back to find Aziraphale was in the bed, but the covering furs were still thrown open, and he’d left room enough for…

“No, Aziraphale. That’s. We’re not…No.”

“You said yourself that you prefer to sleep through the cold weather, and someone stole your bed. This is the obvious solution.”

“The obvious solution is for you to throw me one of the furs so the ground is more comfortable. Not…that.” Why was his face so hot?

“I really must insist,” Aziraphale said softly. “I saw…how you fell asleep last night. That angle could not have been comfortable. And if I’m worrying about you, I’ll never be able to sleep.”

It really wasn’t anything to worry about. Nothing was going to happen. They were only going to sleep. It even made sense because of body heat or something, which Crawley seemed to have more than enough of at the moment. They were two supernatural beings who just happened to be inhabiting human-shaped bodies that were both in need of sleep and warmth and really, wasn’t this the optimal storage solution?

Crawley wasn’t buying any of it.

“Look. Angel. Um.” What was he supposed to say? I can’t share a bed with you because I keep feeling things I’m fairly certain I’m not supposed to feel? He could never admit to that.

He carefully climbed onto the sleeping platform, taking care not to brush against Aziraphale in any way, pulling the furs up to cover them both.

Crawley was very…aware. Aware of every inch between them, where the distance was greater, where it was not. Aware of the brush of Aziraphale’s breath on his cheek and shoulder as they lay facing each other. Aware of how loudly his heart was beating. As his sight adjusted to the dark, aware of Aziraphale’s eyes, wide and very alert.

“You, um. You need to sleep, Angel.” As if either of them could sleep. No, don’t be stupid. Aziraphale’s awake because he doesn’t like sleep. He isn’t going to be feeling any of this, he’s an angel.

“But I mean it, Crawley, I’m not tired. Maybe I won’t sleep at all tonight.”

And now Crawley was aware of Aziraphale trembling, and not from the cold.

“It’s going to be alright. I’m here. Where’s –?” He found Aziraphale’s hand again, as he had last night, holding it loosely so the angel could pull away whenever he wanted. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. Just fall asleep, dream a little, and when you wake up, it’s morning. Easy.”

“No, that’s all exactly what I don’t like. How can you stand it?”

“I don’t know. Makes a nice break from reality, I guess. And I like that part when you first wake up, and everything’s still slow and heavy. It’s nice.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “I hate it. I hate all of it.”

“The more sleep you get, the sooner you’ll have your strength back.” He ran his thumb across Aziraphale’s fingers. “Go on. Tell me more of your poem. Was it almost over?”

“Oh. Ah. The works of Homer are…quite extensive, actually.”

“Nh.” Crawley closed his eyes. “Alright. Hit me with it. We were arguing over who got to keep women captured in battle, I think.”

The soft voice out of the darkness began to recite: “’Insatiate king,’ Achilles thus replies, ‘Fond of the power, but fonder of the prize! Would’st thou the Greeks their lawful prey should yield, The due reward of many a well-fought field…?’”

Eventually, the drone of dactylic hexameter lulled them both to sleep, and when Crawley awoke, he was alone in bed, and Aziraphale was lighting the fire.

Each day, they walked a little further. It was frustratingly slow.

Aziraphale felt an urgent need to leave, almost as strong as his desire to stay.

“I mean, these bloody leaders fight over everything!” Crawley complained as they followed the same path towards the lake, still arm in arm, this time startling out a few white-feathered ptarmigans.

“Isn’t it your job to make them fight?”

“Yes, but – so last fall, I was trying to convince one of the leaders she should duel one of the others. There was this whole code of honor thing I was supposed to be setting up, real generational vendetta stuff. And instead, they start arguing over who has the best cheese!”

Aziraphale laughed until he had to lean his full weight against Crawley.

“That’s not even the worst of it! Instead of a battle, they’re going to settle this by rolling their cheese down a hill.”

“They –” Aziraphale gasped between laughs. “They haven’t done it yet?”

“No, apparently they need all winter to create special rolling cheeses!”

This so completely diverted the angel’s attention that his foot found a patch of ice and he nearly lost his balance, clutching tightly at Crawley to keep from falling entirely.

And they stood there, echoes of the laughter still faintly bouncing among the trees, Aziraphale clutching tightly to Crawley’s shoulders, Crawley’s hands holding Aziraphale’s waist, for far too long.

It wasn’t illness that had the angel’s face so hot, his heart hammering ready to burst. He was looking at the angle of Crawley’s cheek, the slope of his jaw, his golden eyes, the braids mixed with the loose curls of his hair – there was so much to see, and he just kept drinking it in.

“We, ah.” Crawley cleared his throat. “We should go back.”

“I’m not tired,” Aziraphale insisted. “It’s just the ice.”

“We’re going back,” Crawley said more firmly.

Aziraphale nodded, and carefully stood up to take his arm again.

Every night, Crawley worked on another piece of Aziraphale’s clothing. The blue embroidery on his tunic came out much better than whatever had happened to the cloak. Red for the hat, which was a relief. He was good with red. The fur could stay white, but he carefully manipulated it, changing it from a generic piece of manifested pelt to something that looked like an actual white wolf. That would get the Celts talking.

“You’ll need more jewelry, too. They’re big on ornamentation.”

“What, exactly, did you have in mind?” Aziraphale was picking at his food. It couldn’t be comfortable, eating exactly the same thing every day. Crawley had tried mixing it up once, but the fish had been a disaster. He would need more practice. Still, the angel never complained.

“To start with, if you want to look important, you need a torc.”

“I have no idea what that might be.”

“It’s like a collar. A gold collar, no, silver. You look good in silver.”

He didn’t realize what he’d said until Aziraphale had been blinking at him for quite some time.

“Arg. Look, it doesn’t matter what I think, right?” Crawley looked at his hands, trying to picture the piece of jewelry. “But you want to look good for these chieftains and everything, and I’ve been working with them. I know what they like.” A long, solid circle of silver-white metal appeared in Crawley’s hands, slightly twisted and covered in a feather-like pattern. “They’ll all be wearing gold, so this will make you stand out.”

“You’ve been saying I want to blend in.”

Crawley shrugged. “Mostly blend in. But you still need something to differentiate you. So they know you’re someone to pay attention to.”

“It’s lovely.” Aziraphale took the ring of metal and started fastening it around his neck. “I’ve seen these before, in the southern Celtic lands. It goes like this?”

The widest part of the ring hung at the hollow of his throat; the feathery twists of the white metal perfectly matched the platinum in his curls.

Crawley reached over to adjust it, even though it didn’t need it, just for an excuse to brush his fingers across the soft skin. “Perfect.”

The next night it was a long, twisted arm band that ran from wrist to elbow. The night after that a collection of rings. More and more trinkets, carefully crafted to fit him exactly.

Every night, they lay in bed together, Crawley trying desperately not to notice the heat of another body even as their hands twined together between them. Every night, more of the same endless poem; it wasn’t about the story. The droning of it seemed the only thing that occupied Aziraphale’s mind, let him slide into sleep without fear.

Every morning, Crawley woke up alone. He worried a little that the angel always woke up first, but Aziraphale insisted that he wasn’t having nightmares or waking before dawn. That he rose early simply because he didn’t like to linger in bed doing nothing, even though most of their day was spent doing nothing.

After a month, they finally made it to the lake. There were no ducks after all, but the shining plate of pure ice was impressive nonetheless. Crawley ran out onto it, skidding and slipping and sliding across the surface, while Aziraphale stood on solid ground and cheered him on.

Something was changing between them. Aziraphale had tried to deny it, but he could see it now. Crawley laughed more. He smiled more. He was almost completely at ease when Aziraphale took his arm or held his hand.

The angel almost wished it wasn’t true. It would make leaving so much harder.

That night they sat back against the sleeping bench in the dying firelight. “What we need to ornament now is…you,” Crawley explained.

“Hasn’t that been the entire point?”

“I mean tattoos.”

“Oh, no. No, I couldn’t.”

“Look, obviously not real. I don’t have a needle and a supply of woad. But…watch.” Crawley rolled up his own sleeve and traced a finger across his forearm. Where it went, a trail of blue followed behind, curling and curving across his skin, creating a triskele.

“I can’t go around branding myself with pagan symbols.” Aziraphale thought it was a rather weak argument, all things considered.

“It’ll come off. As soon as your power is returned, just like this.” He brushed his hand across the tattoo, and it vanished. “The Picts are absolutely mad for them, and the others are almost as bad. They won’t believe you’re anyone of importance if you don’t have a few.”

Aziraphale rubbed his hands on his knees, trying to think of an objection. Any objection. Finally he thrust up his sleeves.

“Spirals, lines, knotwork. Only abstract shapes. And absolutely no serpents.”

Crawley smiled, and began to trace his finger up Aziraphale’s arm.

The heat that raced through him had nothing to do with the manifestation.

Aziraphale had been afraid Crawley would go overboard, but just as with the jewelry, he seemed to know exactly what was appropriate. A spiral on one arm, a long cartouche filled with elaborately crossed knotwork on the other. Thick lines on his neck, an arch above one eyebrow. All the time Crawley was working on that one, so close, so very close, Aziraphale had to fight the urge to put his hands around Crawley’s waist. It seemed so natural now, and it shouldn’t, it really shouldn’t.

After some debate, they settled on a twisted line pattern, similar to the torc, across one bicep. It was unlikely to be seen, but would be impressive if revealed.

It meant Aziraphale had to take his tunic off while Crawley worked.

A month ago, he wouldn’t have thought twice about it. It was just a body, not even his body, just one that he wore to fit in. He shouldn’t be self-conscious about it.

No, it wasn’t self-consciousness. He saw the way Crawley glanced away from his work to take in everything. And he welcomed it.

He really, really shouldn’t be trying to think of reasons to add more tattoos, to have Crawley touch every bit of skin just to feel the gentle tingle of those fingers…

“Alright,” Crawley sat back, clenching his fist. “Is that all? Do you want another?”

Not the question he wanted to be asked right now.

“I think I’m ready to sleep.” He wasn’t.

Aziraphale climbed into the bed, sliding over, making room as he had every night.

Crawley stood beside it, staring. “You. Um. You forgot to put your tunic back on.”

“I’m feeling a little warm.” That was true, in a way. “Does it bother you?”

Crawley stood there for a long time. Aziraphale knew that expression. It was one they’d both worn many times in the last month, when each desperately tried, and failed, to come up with an objection. Crawley failed tonight, and climbed into bed without comment.

When he took Aziraphale’s hand, the angel was almost certain they were both trembling.

“Right.” Crawley swallowed. “Right. More of that blasted poem. Are we done listing all the ships yet?”

Aziraphale cleared his throat.

“Shimmering-throned immortal Aphrodite, Daughter of Zeus, Enchantress, I implore thee, Spare me, O queen, this agony and anguish, Crush not my spirit.”

“That,” Crawley’s voice was hesitant. “That sounds different.”

“It’s a different poet. I thought we could use a change.”

“Whatever helps you.”

“Whenever before thou has hearkened to me - To my voice calling to thee in the distance, And heeding, thou has come, leaving thy father’s Golden dominions,

“With chariot yoked to thy fleet-winged coursers, Fluttering swift pinions over earth’s darkness, And bringing thee through the infinite, gliding Downwards from heaven,

“Then, soon they arrived and thou, blessed goddess, With divine countenance smiling, didst ask me What new woe had befallen me now and why, Thus I had called thee.

“What in my mad heart was my greatest desire, Who was it now that must feel my allurements, Who was the fair one that must be persuaded, Who wronged thee, Sappho?

“For if now she flees, quickly she shall follow And if she spurns gifts, soon shall she offer them Yea, if she knows not love, soon shall she feel it Even reluctant.

“Come then, I pray, grant me surcease from sorrow, Drive away care, I beseech thee, O goddess Fulfill for me what I yearn to accomplish, Be thou my ally.”

There was a long moment of silence.

“That was…certainly different,” Crawley said.

“Did you like it?”

Pressure on the hand between them. “Maybe…I should hear it again?”

Aziraphale nodded, and recited the poem over and over until he drifted to sleep.

When Crawley awoke the next morning, Aziraphale was not tending the fire.

He was still in bed. And very much not where Crawley had left him.

Crawley opened his eyes to find two soft, muscular arms wrapped around him, pressing him back into the curves of belly and chest that he had dreamt of all night. Aziraphale’s hot breath was right on his shoulder, just by the nape of his neck.

He tried very much not to move, not to wake the angel. How was he ever going to explain –

“Are you finally awake, then?”

“Aziraphale. What. What are you doing?”

“I’m not moving. I’m not getting up. As you’ve suggested.” The arms were very, very still. “Crawley. This is how I’ve woken up every morning since we started sharing this bed. I don’t…I assume we move in the night. In our sleep. And we end up like this. Every time.”

Crawley didn’t say anything. Just listened to that shaky breath behind him.

“At first I thought you would be angry. So I would get up without waking you. But lately…I haven’t been so sure. And I think you deserve to know. To know that I reach out for you in the night, even when I don’t mean to. To know that I dream about you every time. To know that…I’ve probably been well enough to leave, powers or no, for at least a week, and I’ve only been leaning on your arm as we walk because…because I like how it feels.” The arms around Crawley’s waist tightened, just for a second. “To know that…if I don’t leave today…I don’t think I ever will.”

At that, Crawley turned to face him. The arms loosened enough to allow the movement, but didn’t let go. He lay there, Aziraphale’s hands on his hips, his own clutching the angel’s shoulders. “What…what do you want?” He could hardly believe what he was hearing. He could hardly think of what to say. His breath stuck in his throat as he stared at that beautiful face.

“Don’t ask me that. I’m an angel. I don’t get to want things.” He shivered, his blue eyes closing. But when they opened, they were full of tears. “But right now, I don’t feel like an angel. I feel very, very human, and so very weak. So I need you to do something for me, Crawley.”

“Anything.”

“Don’t say that.” Aziraphale’s voice was nearly breaking. “Because…I need you to throw me out. I need you to send me away, Crawley, I’m not strong enough to leave on my own.”

“Ang–”

“Please, Crawley.”

Crawley looked down at his own hands, resting on Aziraphale’s shoulders and chest, trying to steady his breathing. He closed his eyes, and moved his hand down the fur that covered them.

And pulled it aside.

“Get out of my bed,” he ordered, in as angry a tone as he could muster.

The arms vanished from around him, and a moment later, all the glorious heat he had grown so accustomed to was dissipating into the cold air.

He huddled down into the furs, trying to hold onto it, to keep some sense of Aziraphale, even as he heard the angel behind him, gathering his things – his clothing and jewelry that Crawley had made for him, all his gifts. He couldn’t turn. He couldn’t watch, or else he’d lose his resolve.

“Take the food,” Crawley snapped, not looking away from the stone wall. “I don’t need it.” He swallowed, trying to keep his voice from softening. “Go to the lake, and follow the river south until you reach a settlement. Give them the name of the leader you’re supposed to meet. They’ll tell you where to go.”

“Of course.” No more noise. He must be ready to leave.

“And don’t be there when I come down in the spring. Don’t be anywhere near here when the frost melts, do you hear me?”

“I won’t say ‘thank you,’” Aziraphale said, from someplace far too close. He should be leaving. “But I would like to give you a gift.”

“Well, you don’t own anything but the gifts I gave you.” Crawley bit his tongue, not trusting another word.

“All the same.” Something was placed on the bed by his feet. “I always thought this was a little too much. Goodbye, Crawley.”

The rustle of the willow mat. And then silence.

Crawley turned just enough to see the bright white scarf, folded carefully beside him.

He snatched it up, burrowing deeper into the furs. The scarf was still filled with of the wonderful, indescribable, pure scent of Aziraphale.

And soon, with Crawley’s tears.

As Aziraphale walked away from the roundhouse, dressed in the rich outfit Crawley had given him, he felt stronger – and weaker – than he ever had before.

His tears fell on the ground, freezing to ice.

(For those who lost track: Aziraphale started in modern-day Turkey (Halicarnassos) but the story takes place in Scotland, roughly where Edinburgh is today, though I kept the geography vague. Also the time period, but it’s at least the fifth or sixth century BC. There’s a lot we don’t know about Celtic cultures that far back (including whether the Picts should be considered Celtic or Celtic-adjacent) so I have almost certainly incorporated details from later time periods.

The main poem Aziraphale recites is Alexander Pope’s translation of the Iliad, which I’m not a huge fan of, but it was on hand. The longer one from the end is the Hymn to Aphrodite by Sappho, the only complete work of Sappho we have.

All of Aziraphale’s Celtic outfit and ornamentation are as accurate as I could manage, but tartan didn’t become a thing in Scotland until the 16th century, so he’s being VERY fashion-forward there.

I swear I didn’t mean to end two stories in a row like this. I also didn’t mean to go over 8,500 words. Holy cow.)

#good omens fanfiction #31 days of ineffables #ineffable husbands #aziraphale and crowley #hurt comfort #sleepy cuddles #bed sharing #there's only one bed #snowed in #technically ice stormed in #mutual pining #longing #protective crowley #hurt aziraphale #love story #you know i wrote a parody of these tropes #then i go and play it straight #what's wrong with me #oops its sad

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ask-the-crimson-king · 4 years ago

Text

Tales from D&D: Skin to Bone

[Hello. Have not done a Tales from D&D in a hot minute. Thought I’d do one now.

This one is from the Icewind Dale campaign that I am playing, and because of it, there may be SPOILERS FOR ICEWIND DALE below the cut.

I am also going to be tagging @luwupercal because I think they may enjoy hearing about the fate of Barnaby and the fucking feels train this campaign has become.

Before I get into it, this is the cast:

LYDIA - Vampire spawn warlock. Chill as fuck. Just wants to be able to either cure herself or stop having to run from her new self.

RHOZAL - Hobgoblin Artificer with a lot of emotional baggage. Blacksmith and feelsy baby. Protect him. Has a crush on Lydia. [The feelings are mutual on both ends, however the characters are being COWARDS-]

BARNABY BUSSELTON - Anarcho-capitalist gnome wizard. No longer a PC. Relevant to the beginning of this tale. Will explain.

CHARLES NOLAND - Halfling druid. Was vibing in the snow for 2 months. New to the gang.

AND FINALLY, MY DUMB ASS AS-

Hakkerskaldyr Strigr, but known as FREYR - Goliath Paladin who worships the Allfather. Lost an eye. And a character that I’ve lost interest in playing. We’ll get into that.

We begin our tale with a TPK in some caverns. Note: The party is Level 3.

The enemies were a frost giant skeleton, a hag, and a wil-o-wisp.

Lydia makes it to the hag first. Rhozal and I, Freyr, try to follow her to provide assistance while Barnaby tries to kite the skeleton away from us.

We get to the room with the hag. Lydia isn’t doing too good.

The giant stops following Barnaby and comes for us.

Rhozal is put down in one blow from the giant’s axe. Freyr is able to use the final spell slot and put down a smite on the hag, killing it. Lydia, who had been grappled by it, is now free.

Freyr was at 5 hp. The giant needed to do 35 damage for Freyr to be killed instantaneously.

The DM rolled a 7, an 8, and an 11. The giant had a +6 to the attack.

The giant had done 34 damage. One more and I would have been out. BUT THAT WASN’T THE END! Because on the next turn, the wisp used its ability where a creature put down to 0 needs to make a DC 10 con save or die instantly.

Made the save.

Lydia flees, and now the giant skeleton is fighting this wisp. Barnaby is hanging back, letting them fight it out. Lydia does her Form of Dread and finds Barnaby, takes out a shadowblade, and kills him. Freyr’s axebeak, Ishe, is on her way to try and retrieve Freyr. Lydia tries to mount her, but is bucked off.

Barnaby’s turn is next and he gets a NAT 20 TO THE SAVE, POPS UP, SAYS “SURPRISE MOTHERFUCKER” AND DOWNS LYDIA WITH A LEVEL 2 MAGIC MISSILE.

Ishe then pecks his ass and puts him back on death saves. Which he got another nat 20 to in two turns.

SO, TPK. Wonderful. Rhozal then releases a snake called Xipecoatl unto the world in exchange for his life. The snake kills the skeleton, and Ishe comes in to grab Freyr and run. Barnaby gets up and makes a deal with the snake.

Freyr goes to the nearest city with Ishe, once he comes to, for help from the guard. With a nat 20 to persuasion, he gets it.

Barnaby starts making traps around the caves, including alchemist’s fire and rockfall traps. I am sent into secrets corner, alone, FOR 45 FUCKING MINUTES while Barnaby talks.

Finally, I’m able to get back into the main call, and Freyr takes up his weapons, and the guards, and he makes his way into the caverns. Man checked for traps all the while, but they were disarmed. Barnaby left a note. Rhozal is fucking worried and wants to pursue him now. Barnaby has captured Lydia.

We resolve to fucking kill him.

Thanks to Lydia being a fucking madlad, we’re able to locate him hiding out in the snow. He hears the sled dogs that are with us. Rhozal is given a scroll of fireball (reward for the quest we were on), and he uses it to cast fireball on Barnaby. Takes 11 fire damage.

I go, and I try to Vow of Emnity his ass. Can’t. Fucking illusion. GREAT.

Turns progress and the guards can’t hit him because of this illusion. Lydia is not doing well on death saves. She needs to be saved now.

On Barnaby’s turn, he takes out a fang, and teleports away.

“Let this be known as the day you almost caught Barnaby Busselton!”

He also ignites the oil he had planted around Lydia. Due to a Secret, Freyr has fire resistance, so he was literally thrown into the fires to help her. After cutting himself so Lydia could be stable/healed, he hauls her up and out of the flames.

Barnaby is now a DMPC, and will eventually be hunted.

We all leave and get a room in the nearby city of Easthaven. We spent the night there, we had some very nice heart to heart moments. Rhozal now feels empty. But we all cement our bonds with each other, and Rhozal and Lydia become very cute and adorable. I don’t want this post to be a million miles long, so I’ll leave it at that.

I will try to summarize the next few sessions. Essentially, we found a magic cauldron in those caves (its a Cauldron of Plenty) and the Speaker (mayor) of Easthaven was willing to pay 3500gp for it. So we planned to give it to him, but it was stolen in the time period the speaker had told us it would take for us to be paid. We find Charles in the Speaker’s town hall, and we ask him if he knew anything. The answer was ‘no’. So we head downstairs and we find the Speaker beat to shit, along with his guards.

It is at this point we find out who stole the cauldron, a dwarf woman named Torgga, and we head out as soon as possible. The Speaker offers 1000 more gp for its retrieval.

So we head off to Targos, the last town that we knew Torgga frequented. We go to Luskan Arms, a Tavern, and we find her sleds. But the cauldron is gone. We head inside and we see her heading up to speak with someone. Lydia turns invisible and leaves her familiar, a pseudodragon named Signum (who is also constantly pointing in the direction Lydia is in), with us. When Signum squeaks, it means she’s in danger.

Lydia is able to eavesdrop on a situation. The Speaker of Targos plans to starve out Easthaven. GREAT. POLITICS. Makes Torgga fear him. He is a corrupted cunt, essentially.

Torgga is let out, and Lydia remains in the room with the Speaker.

She then decides to attack. Signum starts squeaking. Me and Rhozal’s player are aggressively signing (because we had been muted for this entire altercation) that we are FUCKIN GONE, we are DASHING AWAY-

But Lydia CRITS ON THE BITE. C R I T. NATURAL. T W E N T Y.

Combat ensues. It takes Freyr and Rhozal forever to try and get to her. Rhozal is able to just yeet his ass upstairs, but then there’s a locked door in the way. Freyr is being pulled back by a tiefling (one of the Speaker’s lot), and even with a FUCKING 21 TO ATHLETICS, I couldn’t break free. FOR LIKE FIVE FUCKING ROUNDS. NO, I did not hit this person, BECAUSE MY PALLY BOY WAS JUST THINKING “don’t hurt more people than you have to, that’s just going to cause more trouble”.

But anyway he gets upstairs but Lydia is unconscious. Rhozal cannot pick the door. So we start breaking it down.

We break it down.

The Speaker ties up Lydia with manacles. We break into his room (after Rhozal gets poisoned by a Cone Snail doorknob), see Lydia is awake (nat 20 to death saves baBY), and that the Speaker is missing.

He escaped through a hidden door. Freyr watched him do it. So he tries to find the exit, but fails.

His next turn, this motherfucker opens the door and says “Hello!”. Makes 3 attacks.

Misses 2.

CRITS. ON THE THIRD. FOR FUCK SAKE-

Freyr is down. AND. AND. HE HAS THREE SPELL SLOTS THAT HE CAN USE. AND ALL OF HIS LAY ON HANDS POINTS. BUT HE IS DOWN. FUCK.

Rhozal is also downed, but Signum arrives to save the day! Signum stings him. Speaker rolls a nat 1 to his con save, so he is now unconscious for an hour. Freyr gets healing potion’d, then he res’s Rhozal, and then Rhozal starts tying up the Speaker. Charles had been kinda holding back the tide downstairs (Dire Wolf wild shaping is fucking insane at level 3), so he hauls ass to come help us.

However, about 5 other people are following. FUCK.

We try to find a way to escape. We also need proof the Speaker is a corrupt fuckhead. Which we THOUGHT we had, because the Speaker wrote a letter that essentially said “Ah yes, I am Evil and Corrupt, muah ha ha.” However. The DM then proceeded to reveal that he didn’t have the letter on him, when he told Lydia that she saw him take it.

Fucking. Damn. It.

We headed into his secret hallway and we try to find a way out.

The hallway is trapped, however, and nearly takes us out because of those traps. How fucking LOVELY.

We hear the guards calling for someone, who finds the oTHER END OF THIS HALLWAY AND THEN SNIPES FREYR. Down. AGAIN.

Then Rhozal is put down.

Charles and Lydia are able to flee.

Rhozal and Freyr are taken captive.

We awake to find ourselves imprisoned. Manacled, in nothing but ragged clothing. The Speaker wants to make a deal. He literally says “Ah yes, I am corrupt and power hungry. Work for me.”

Look. Freyr is not about that life. It’s complicated but it has ties to his backstory.

Rhozal wants to say yes. Freyr is a vehement no. This guy thinks of him, Rhozal, and Lydia as precious pieces on his board. Weapons he can turn against the people of Targos and Ten Towns. Things for his own gain. Freyr would rather choose death before dishonor.

The Speaker then says that Freyr would be imprisoned, and let out once he became more useful.

Rhozal fears he will be killed.

It is at this point that I and Rhozal’s player go into the Secrets chat so Rhozal and Freyr can argue their points.

Meanwhile, Charles and Lydia go to find some acquaintances the party made in Targos. Marianne, a Changeling healer, and Mimosa Halfglass, the chief healer in Targos. They start planning a prison break.

In our bickering and imprisonment, Marianne comes to us. We tell her to sneak out our things. She’s disguising herself as a guard. She then leaves.

Rhozal’s player and I are then brought into the general vc and muted.

Lydia ends up speaking with the Speaker alone, offers a counter-offer, and also offers to try and convince Rhozal and Freyr to take his deal. He allows her to try and do so. Lydia is shackled and put into the same cell we are.

The session ends here. However, in the background, Lydia, Rhozal, and Freyr all end up talking.

I will say this now. I am feeling... stuck with my boy. I love Freyr. I really do. However, I don’t feel... inspired to play him anymore. So the DM has told us we need to make a decision -- take the Speaker’s offer, or don’t. And in this decision, I have a second one, that being; do I continue playing Freyr, or do I introduce a new character.

I feel like, while the others have ideas and plans, Freyr doesn’t have many. Not many plot things that he feels relevant to or connected by, outside of this prophecy he was given to by Odin in the session he lost his eye. However, that feels like a very late game thing, and I feel like I’m kinda... twiddling my thumbs while the others have things to do.

My next character I have basically planned out. I know how he talks, how he thinks, his mannerisms, everything. And I really like him. Haven’t quite decided on a name yet, but I incorporated that aspect itself into his character.

I already know that Freyr is a vehement ‘no’. Lydia and Rhozal tried to convince him otherwise, but my boy is stubborn. But the DM told me that things do not have to end there.

So my decision by Wednesday is now -- who’s story do I play? Freyr’s, or this new character?

I’m still torn. But I am leaning more and more towards this new character. He feels dynamic, and the character is a class I’ve never played before. Plus I think he’ll get along well with Lydia, Rhozal, and Charles.

It’ll be a heartfelt goodbye if he leaves. But I feel like his chapter has come to a close. Besides, I feel like he’s a bit too... third wheel-y for what Rhozal and Lydia have going on. He feels too awkward. I don’t like his dynamic too much anymore.

But who knows, maybe I’ll regret the decision either way. However, I do believe it’s time for my paladin to say goodbye. At least at the time of writing. I’ll provide updates when the fateful day comes.]

#title for this inspired by a linkin park song of the same name #one that i feel is very fitting to the situation #that and roads untraveled #will add more in another post #maybe #cause theres some shit about rhozal and lydia man #moonclaws sagas #tales from D&D

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detroitbydark · 5 years ago

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Have Yourself a Merry Airport Christmas. (H.O.)

Title: Have Yourself A Marry Airport Christmas

Chapter 1: I'll (Not) Be Home For Christmas

Summary: You thought your holiday had been ruined until a handsome Brit steps in to rescue your Christmas spirit.

Word Count: 2200+

Authors Notes: Fun little fluffy piece just in time for the holidays. No Warnings warnings. Thank you to @tomsrebeleyebrow for the lovely mood board!

A rough breath squeezes past your purses lips as you hike your backpack further up on your shoulder. The arrival and departure boards were cloaked in more red than Santa Claus. You stared up, looking for your connector, eyes tracing the flight numbers. 2524. That was what would take you from Boston to Detroit. Outside, the wind whipped and the snow fell in blinding waves.

You’d only just landed from the first leg of your journey from Atlanta. Initially, your biggest concern had been missing your next flight. The strong gusts and limited visibility had left your plane circling for far longer than it should have. When you’d finally arrived to the gate you knew you were going to have to book it through the terminal if you were ever going to make it to the next plane before it departed.

You should have known better.

The crowd around you jerks and moves as people push upto than away from the digital board.

No one is happy.

A young mother near you bounces a fussy baby on her hip while holding tightly to the toddler at her side. There is not a smile to be seen. Not a single plane will be leaving Logan International tonight.

Your going to spend Christmas Eve alone.

In an airport.

You work your way through the crowd, apologizing as you bump or are bumped in return. You can feel the hot sting of tears threatening and you take a deep breath, swallowing back the sorrow that’s threatening to over take you. You’d been looking forward to seeing your family for months. You hadn’t been home for Christmas since you’d moved to Atlanta five years ago. You had a brand new niece who you were dying to see and a nephew who’d been promised “auntie y/n” would help set out cookies for Santa and now it was all ruined.

You remembered telling your supervisor earlier in the week how much you’d missed snow in the winter. Looking out the floor to ceiling windows, there is nothing beautiful or nostalgic about the way the snow is beginning to drift and pile up. You hate it. The charge on your phone is wearing low and you regret not going in and getting a new one like you’d been promising yourself. It barely held a charge these days but you’d spent so much on airfare that you’d promised yourself to limp it through the holidays. You look around for a spot near a charging station. You have to walk half the length of the terminal before you find a gate where you can wedge in between two grumpy looking travelers and charge your phone.

You give the man to your right a weak smile as you scroll through your Facebook feed. Images of happy families assault you as you scroll. Your family, both immediate and extended, are all together. Your brothers handing out slices of tourtiere and your Gramma is sitting with Olivia, your three month old niece, rocking in a chair by the fire. You feel your chest get tight. You close out of it before you get anymore lost in your emotions. It’s not even noon yet.

After allowing your phone to charge for a bit you unplug and make way for the next person looking for a top off. You glance around for a quiet spot to make the call you’ve been dreading all morning. You had to let your mother know you weren’t going to make it. She’d never been happy that you’d moved so far away from home and made it known each time your distance caused you to miss an event or inconvenience anyone. She hadn’t made an effort in five years to come visit, no one in your family had, but you were made to feel guilty every time you had to tell them you wouldn’t be there. This year was supposed to be different, you’d be there for Christmas. You’d scrimped and scrounged for the airfare. Worked extra and traded shifts to get the time off. You’d planned for everything. Everything but this.

The hollow ring of the phone in your ear feels a million miles away as you wait for someone at the house to answer.

“Hello?”

“Mom! Hey!” Your smile is entirely fake as you try to sound upbeat.

“Sweetheart, I thought you’d be in the air right now?” Mom was no fool and you can hear her tone already.

“Yeah, well…” you take a deep breath, “I didn’t get through Boston before that storm hit. Everything’s grounded. Looks like I might be here for a minute.”

It’s so quiet. You pull your phone back to make sure you haven’t been disconnected, “Mom?”

“If you would have just flown out yesterday like I suggested-“ you let the dull roar of the crowds around you drown her words out.

You knew she was going to do this. If something went wrong, be it out of your control or not, you could have prevented it by doing this or that. You feel tears prick at your eyes again, your chest is beginning to feel heavy and you breathing is becoming more difficult. You try to get a word in but your Mother just keeps steamrolling ahead. You start walking down the concourse, moving your feet in hopes of walking off some of the nervous energy that building up.

I’m not going to cry.

You repeat the words in your head like a mantra. The tears are held back by sheer force of will.

“And another thing-“

“Mom!” You don’t mean to snap but it does the trick of stopping her. “Listen, I’m going to go talk to this gate agent and see if I can get anymore information” you both know it’s a lie but she doesn’t call you on it.

“Fine. Keep me updated.” She doesn’t even bother to say bye but you don’t either and the call drops away.

You walk passed one of the many lines leading to the gate agents, cringe at the irate people who think their shorty attitude and loud voice will suddenly make flights available.

Finding an open space near a wall you let yourself slouch to the floor. For having so many bodies pressed in around you it’s still surprisingly cold. After a moment of digging through your backpack you unroll and hoodie and slip it on, pulling the hood up and over your hair. Your knees get pulled up tight to your chest and you rest your chin on them while you watch people filter by.

A place to stay is your next course of action, a hotel room to hole up and lick your wounds. Out of the prying eyes of the world.

Scrolling through app after app you find that everyone else is thinking the same thing, maybe that’s why the crowds have dwindled slightly. All the places you typically stay, the ones in your budget, are booked. The few that are left are so far out of your price range that you can’t help but finally let out a soft sniffle and a few tears. Your phone ends up in your hoodie pocket and you rest your head back against the cool tiled wall. Your hood hangs over your eyes, hiding your mini breakdown from the world.

When a warm weight settles next to you, you don’t think too much of it. Even with fewer people milling about, space is still at a premium. What you don’t expect is the bag of chips wiggled under your nose.

“Crisp?”

You feel so gross as you sniffle again and wipe your nose on your sleeve.

“I’m good”

“Got some Malteasers too.” The stranger offers again. This time you catch the proper sounding British accent. You rub the tears from your eyes, intent on telling the stranger you’re good but when you turn you’re caught in a pair of gorgeous eyes, soft blue and sincere. He gives you a little smile and you can see him scanning your red eyes and tear stained face before he’s turning and rummaging in his backpack. You hear the sound of a box of something jostling around and you can’t help but lean closer to see what he’s after.

He comes up a second later with a triumphant smile and presents the red box.

“Malteasers.”

You look at him and the box of candy. His smile falters just a little bit than he’s cracking open the box.

“Hold your hand out now.” He encourages and, after the day your having, you know you shouldn’t be taking candy from strangers but he’s cute and has a nice accent and that really has to stand for something.

The little chocolate coated balls land in your palm. He watches intently as you pop a few in your mouth and chew. The candy crunches loudly, sticks to your molars, but it’s good.

“They’re just like Whoppers” you offer cautiously. Blue Eyes pulls a face. He’s cute. You watch him drag his fingers through his hair. It’s soft brown straddling the line of dirty blonde and brunette and you can’t decide either way what it is besides nice.

“Definitely, heads above Whoopers.” He holds his hand out to you, “Harrison”.

You hesitate for a moment before you slio your smaller hand into his.

“Y/N”

Harrison’s grip is firm and he gives you a smile that you can’t help but return even if it’s the weaker of the two. He offers the bag of chips up again and you shake your head and point back to the candy. He chuckles lightly.

“Got a sweet tooth, yeah? Girl after my own heart.”

“Gotta eat sweets during Christmas” you explain as if it’s a well known holiday law. He watches as you chew another handful. The pair of you lean back against the wall silently.

After a minute you look over and see him smiling to himself, eating another chip.

“I’ve got a bottle of water if you’re thirsty” you stumble for a moment “I mean, it’s new and I haven’t had any yet.” You pull your bag in front of you and dig until you pull out two bottles.

“Thanks Y/N” he says accepting your offer. “So, you come here often?” He jokes. You can’t help the small smile that pulls at your mouth.

“Do you share your candy with random girls in airports often?”

Harrison shrugs, “just the sad ones.” His words make you stiffen. You really hated for people to see you cry. You’d only allowed yourself the luxury because you thought you had been pretty well hidden in plain sight. Harrison notices your sudden tension.

“Hey, I didn’t mean anything bad by it, you know? I just don’t like seeing people upset and it’s Christmas Eve and all and I just figured-“

“It’s fine. Really. I’m just weird about things I guess. Thank you. Really.” When you glance away you can feel his appraising look but he doesn’t push.

You both slip back into silence. Someone is playing Christmas music on their phone. Carol Of The Bells.

“This is one of my favorites.” You blurt out.

“Mine too” Harrison’s reply is soft and you catch a wistful look in his eyes when you turn back and angle your body toward him. You weren’t the only one who had to be missing Christmas with loved ones.

“So where were you heading?” It seems like a safe topic and he seems to perk up a little bit when you ask.

“Atlanta, my best friend is working down there for a bit and I was going to do the whole Christmas thing with them. I celebrated an early one in London so I guess at least I get one, right?”

You nod, “I actually live in Atlanta.”

“No shit?”

“Yeah, I feel like I should say something about a small world but Atlanta is huge.”

“I know, right. So where are you heading?”he asks.

“My family is in Michigan. I’m supposed to land in Detroit and drive the hour home from there.”

Harrison nods as you talk and takes a drink of his bottle of water, “so we’re both stuck away from our people.” He looks contemplative as he says it his brows furrows into a stern line. “We should do Christmas together.” He says after a moment.

It takes you off guard and you stutter for a second before you’re starting to laughing, “you don’t even know me? Also, airport.” You gesture around.

“Yeah, that it is but I bet we could pull it off.”

You realize he’s actually serious, “you don’t even know me.” Harrison is already pulling his phone out.

“You don’t know me either, Darling.”

You ignore the warm feeling ‘darling’ in his accent gives you.

“I can assure you I’m not a serial killer.” He says “but you’ll have to take my word for it.”

You bark out a laugh, “serial killer? Hitting the extremes there. I was going to say you could be an asshole.”

Harrison’s laugh is warm. “I’ve been accused of worse I suppose. You gonna stick around and find out?” It feels like a dare and you never backed down from a dare.

“What the hell…” you mumble. “Sure. We’ll have each other’s backs for Christmas.”

“Perfect.” Harrison looks down at his phone pulling open an app. You stare curiously as he glances back up. “Now Darling, what is on your Christmas bucket list?”

#Harrison Osterfield #haz osterfield #Harrison Osterfield Fic #haz osterfield fic #Harrison/Reader #Christmas Fic #fluff #have yourself a merry airport Christmas

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brideofedoras · 5 years ago

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Cupid’s Arrow

A Modern AU Cupid/OFC

Disclaimer: I do not own Cupid or Aphrodite or the images in the aesthetic I created... I only own my OCs...

Warnings: NONE! (yet...)

Word Count: 2100+

Rating: 18+ (to be on the safe side)...

*Note: This was originally supposed to be a short one but it got away with me. I’m nowhere near finished with it, I’m currently stuck but I wanted to post it for Valentine’s Day. So... Here’s part one!

Valentine’s Day is T-minus 7 days, 14 hours, 38 minutes…

Cupid snorted awake when the damned alarm sounded on his phone. He rolled over and grabbed the device to silence the alert. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he muttered, dropping the iPhone onto the blanket before scrubbing his hands over his face. Dammit, he wanted to go back to sleep.

Unfortunately he had a job to do. And if he didn’t do it, his mother would never let him hear the end of it.

Aphrodite had been on a tear ever since she’d heard about some cute little brunette running a quaint little bookstore in the middle of Nowhere, Missouri. Rumor had it the girl was very beautiful and every red-blooded man in a hundred mile radius were flocking around her.

He screwed his eyes shut. His mother could be a very jealous woman at times, but this was ridiculous. She wanted him to go undercover, get a job somewhere in that town (preferably at the bookstore, if Aphrodite had her way), and nail some fat, ugly old man with one of his arrows and make him fall in love with the girl.

He sighed heavily as he sat up, the bedding pooling at his bare waist. One thing he hated was his own mother using him to ease her jealousy at some innocent woman’s expense.

“That’s not how I work, Mom,” he muttered to himself. He threw the covers off and stood up, shuddering at the slight chill in the room.

He preferred to bring couples together naturally without wasting his precious arrows. Occasionally someone would drag their heels and deny they were head over heels in love with the person they were meant to be with. Then he would bust out the crossbow and take aim.

But to use an arrow to force love on someone? It was immoral. He would not do something that went against his beliefs.

He would go, he would try to get hired on somewhere in Valentine Creek, Missouri, and see if there was anyone she was interested in. And if the feelings were reciprocated he would work his matchmaking skills, bring them together and hope for the best.

Cupid grabbed a pair of boxer briefs and pulled them on, formulating the plan in his head. Research the town, see if there are any job openings, apply and charm his way into a job, meet the girl, befriend the girl, and hopefully fix her up with her one true love.

He finished getting dressed and fixed himself a pot of coffee before he grabbed his laptop and settled down on his bed once more to do a Google search on the girl his mother had taken a dislike to sight unseen.

Valentine Creek, Missouri. Population 8,347. Located on the Missouri River in the middle of the state, cute little tourist town with a rich history. His hazel eyes skimmed along the list of businesses until the name of the bookstore Aphrodite had practically spat out last night caught his attention.

Adventure Awaits. Established in 1996 by Nic and Calliope Wilder on the square in historic downtown Valentine’s Creek, Adventure Awaits is a bookstore, bakery and coffee shop rolled into one. Current owner and operator is their daughter, Penelope Wilder, a 2018 graduate of Olympus University where she studied business management and creative writing. The Wilders have collaborated with area businesses during festivals to host wine walks to raise funds for restoring historic sites of interest; children’s workshops such as creative writing, art, dance, theater, and baking; pet adoption specials; back-to-school supply drives, and Christmas book drives.

He reached for his coffee and took a sip before searching to see if Adventure Awaits had a website. “Bingo,” he murmured when it pulled up. He frowned thoughtfully as he took in the simple page with a Victorian-esque background. Links to view the dessert and beverage menu, books, gifts, upcoming events lined the top of the page.

He scrolled down the main page, finding it to be a blog of sorts touting specials, sales, employment opportunities and photos from recent events.

One photo caught his attention. A blue-eyed brunette curled up on an overstuffed armchair with a book and a three-legged cat.

Meet the not-so-new owner and operator of Adventure Awaits: Penny (and Church).

Cupid double-tapped the photo to get a better look.

Long dark hair flowing in waves, bright baby blue eyes framed with long dark lashes, high cheekbones, full pink lips, flawless skin. An aura of shy innocence in that smile.

Warmth flooded through him as he studied, as he memorized Penelope Wilder’s photograph. He wondered if her hair felt as silky as it looked, if it would curl around his fingers. Would her lips feel plush and velvety soft under his? What would her kisses taste like? Would her eyes sparkle with love and adoration as she looked deep into his own hazels?

The increasing tightness in his chest snapped him out of his reverie. Cupid scrubbed his hands over his face and drew in a deep breath. “You are the God of Love, you have no time for a romance of your own, you idiot,” he berated himself. “Mom would kill you, too, for this.”

He spread his fingers to peek at the computer screen once more, to the chocolate brown tresses and the baby blue eyes and the shy smile. “I can’t do this.”

Cupid startled when his phone vibrated on the night stand. With a groan he dropped his hands and snatched it up. “Crap.” He swiped his thumb to answer. “Mom.”

“Cupid, don’t you have somewhere you need to be?” The sickly sweet tone in Aphrodite’s voice belied the irritation he picked up on.

“No, I’m not doing it,” he leaned back against the headboard.

“Yes, you are,” she growled at him. “You are going to fly your cute little ass to Missouri and make her fall in love with some fat old geezer.”

“Mother, what you are demanding of me goes against what I stand for,” he warned. “I will not force that kind of fate on an undeserving innocent.”

“I don’t care,” he rolled his eyes at her flippant tone. “You’re doing this or I’m disowning you.”

“You say that every time you want me to do your dirty work, Mom,” he reached up and raked his fingers through his golden blond hair. “You haven’t disowned me yet.”

“Just do it, Cupid,” she snapped and disconnected the call.

“No, Mom,” he dropped the phone onto the bed. “I’m not gonna ruin her life to appease your jealousy.” He leaned forward to look at the photo of the blue-eyed beauty once more.

“No, Church, you can’t have a brownie,” Penelope smiled at the three-legged cat at her feet. “You shouldn’t be back here anyway.”

Big amber eyes blinked at her from the sweet ebony face before the rescue hobbled off with his fluffy tail flicking sassily at her.

She shook her head as she finished stocking the dessert display. “Chocolate isn’t good for furbabies,” she picked up the cream cheese chocolate chip brownie she’d saved for herself and followed the cat to the window display overlooking the park across the street. It was cloudy out, snow was in the forecast for the afternoon. “Think we’ll get the four inches of snow the weatherman promised?” She scritched behind Church’s left ear.

The cat purred in response, a deep and loud rumble as he turned his head to urge her to scratch him under his jaw.

She smiled as she complied. “Not that we have to get out in it, since we live upstairs and I did the shopping last night.” Her baby blue eyes wandered to the window again. “Well, we have thirty minutes before it’s time to open, Mom will be here later to help me with today’s delivery… Is it wrong to want a shot of tequila to get me through the day?”

“Mrrrrp,” Church gave her a half meow, half purr for a response before turning and hopping up onto the vintage wingback chair in the display. He promptly curled up on the soft ivory afghan.

“It was just a hypothetical question,” she sighed as she straightened the books on the side table. “Maybe.”

She turned away from the window and walked through the small store. She switched around a few Valentine’s Day displays, rotating the books on the stands and tried not to groan as she wondered how many men she was going to have to fend off today.

Not a single one of them were interested in a relationship. They wanted to hook up, do the one night stand thing and go on their merry little way, or the friends with benefits, no-strings-attached thing.

She was shy, introverted, and hooking up for sex was something she could not do. If she was going to invest her time in someone, step out of her comfort zone and make herself vulnerable then that person better be in it for the long haul, and not just for sex. Some of her friends had a revolving door of lovers, and she understood that this day and age that was the new normal. It just was not for her. She wanted the old cliche, a whirlwind romance evolving into happily ever after.

Penny groaned. “I should just go on vacation every year around this time, Church,” she picked up a copy of one of her favorite books and carried it to the counter. “What do you think? A little bungalow on the beach somewhere? Maybe run away to New Zealand?” She chuckled when she received no response from the stray-turned-spoiled house cat. “I’m terrified of flying, that would never work anyway,” she shook her head as she propped Pride and Prejudice up next to the register. One quick glance at the clock on the wall told her she had five minutes to go before it was time to open. With another sigh she rounded the counter to start the coffee maker for the regular coffee, checked the other machines, and grabbed the keys to unlock the door.

“Church, it’s already starting to snow,” she commented as she unlocked the door leading to the enclosed foyer. Once the main door was unlocked she dipped into her bucket of rock salt and stepped out onto the sidewalk to spread it out.

“Penny, where’s your coat?”

Her head snapped up toward the shoe store to the left. “Upstairs in my apartment,” she answered with a smile. “I’ll grab it when I have a chance, Ed.”

“You be sure to do that, wouldn’t want for you to come down sick,” Ed Chambers smiled back. “If you want, I can have Josh shovel the walk for you later.”

“Thank you,” she shook her head. “I’ll take care of it.”

“The offer stands if you get busy, Penny,” he waved before ducking back into his shop.

Her smile dropped the moment she was alone. Ugh. I do not want Josh shoveling my part of the walk. He will just come into the store and flirt and get mad the moment I turn him down. She ducked back into the foyer for more rock salt. “I’m quite capable of shoveling my sidewalk, clearing off my car, and carrying my groceries,” she muttered out loud. “Don’t need some jerk coming along flexing to show off and entice me into something I want no part of.” A few more scoops of salt later she grabbed the sign her dad had made years ago and set it where it was out of the way but easily seen. Caution: Sidewalk might be slick! Please walk with care!

She stepped back into her business and flipped the sign from “Closed” to “Come on in, we’re open!”. Once she wiped her feet on the rough mat she sighed heavily. “I swear to God, Cupid better keep his damned arrows away from me.”

Penny ducked around the wall separating the counter from the kitchen to wash her hands. It would likely be a slow day for business with the snow arriving earlier than expected (never a good sign), and the main drag would be clogged later with rerouted traffic from accidents on the freeway bridge ten minutes away (happens every time it rains or snows, people think they can fly down the highway at 90 miles per hour regardless of the weather). But she had her regulars to think about. Employees from the businesses, city hall, the police and sheriff’s department and the courthouse often popped in for a cup of coffee and a fresh brownie or cookie during their breaks. The auxiliary from the local hospital enjoyed coming in to request books and novelty items to be ordered for their gift shop. She doubted they would come in.

Slow days could be both a blessing and a curse, she thought. With nothing else to do until the delivery, she settled in behind the counter for a long wait.

#cupid/ofc #modern au #fluff #valentine's day #karl urban #church the cat

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cptnsantiago · 5 years ago

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take me home

4/?

~ snow storm

read on ao3

“Jake, the storm is only getting worse.”

Amy can barely see outside, the fog so dense that she’s holding on to any solid part of the car to prepare for the worst. “I’ve only met your mom twice but she’s scary so I’m not getting you home late.”

“I think my mom would appreciate it more if I made it home alive.” Amy retorts, scrolling through her phone slowly “We’ve been carpooling this trip for 2 years and the weather has never been this bad… And look! I just found a B&B half a mile from here!”

“Ugh fine,” Jake huffs, “But I’m indulging in the mini bar and won’t take any judgement!”

“Okay, waste your money. I’m just going to do the wise thing and sleep now that there are no finals to worry about.” Amy tells him, “Turn left.”

“Please, I know you’ve already started your little study calendar thingy on your desk.” Jake follows her directions with ease, laughing.

Amy had been introduced to Jake through their mutual friend Rosa in their first year of college. Amy had known Rosa her entire life, their moms having bonded through night classes years before they were born and they had been inseparable since. This then made Amy and Rosa inseparable. So when Rosa took up criminal psychology in her first year of college, Rosa met Jake and thus Amy made an acquaintance with him.

She was certain if they had met under different circumstances they would either be best friends or Amy would avoid him because he was just a certain type of annoying. The type being unbearably obsessed with Die Hard and not really knowing when to shut up about it. But they hung out on a semi regular occurrence, so they were good acquaintances.

Their arrangement was convenient. They were both at university in Brooklyn and unlike Rosa’s family, their family did not move from New Jersey to be closer to them. So every summer, every Christmas and every spring break they would drive home and back to college together.

And now she was going to be stuck with Jake in a B&B until the storm cleared. It wasn’t the end of the world, no - Amy did like Jake. Most of the time they hung out together they were either drunk or they were drunk with Rosa. The two and a half hour drive usually was spent with light chatter where Jake would eventually fall asleep or Amy would start reading.

Stuck in a snowstorm, together, with no alcohol.

It wouldn’t be bad, she just thought it was going to be interesting. The nervous feeling only builds once they arrive at the B&B and learn that the only room they have available is one with a double bed. One double bed.

Jake acts like it’s no big deal, they were adults and could maturely share a bed without it being a whole thing. Amy’s read fanfiction, it’s always a thing. She doesn’t mention anything though because she knew one thing definitively; Jake would never let it go.

He still remembered (and brought up quite frequently) that she was the Finger Queen at typing camp one year. So there was no bringing up the Star Wars fanfiction she read on occasion; or worse, the one time she wrote one herself. Jake didn’t lie when he said he would raid the mini fridge. Immediately he took out the drinks and snacks and dumped them on the bed, following them by jumping gracefully into the soft bed.

“What exactly is your plan?” Amy snorts, placing her own bag gently by the bedside table and sitting next to him.

“Get drunk, watch Die Hard probably.” Jake shrugs simply as he finds the remote. “Then fall asleep snuggled by your side to keep warm from the horrible storm.”

“Do you like any movie but Die Hard?” Amy shakes her head, disguising her disgust so that he doesn’t straight up die from shock. “We’re absolutely not watching it.”

“Of course I like other movies!” Jake retorts with a light chuckle, “I just love Die Hard.”

“Oh god.” Amy finally rolls properly onto the bed, burying her face into the pillow.

“Okay, another movie I like…” Jake ponders, and he’s quiet for a few minutes which catches Amy’s attention. “OH! Star Wars! My mom wants to see the new one with me when I get home.”

“Are you serious Jake?” Amy groans, her complete attention now on him. “All these years and you’ve been talking about Die Hard non-stop when we could have been talking about Star Wars? You’re actually messing with me.”

“It’s never come up!” Jake starts giggling, tipping his head back as the laughter gets stronger.

“That’s because you never shut up about Die Hard.” Jake only mimics her face in reply, “Why don’t we watch it? I just got Disney plus last week.”

“Oh?” Jake raised an eyebrow at her, “I did the free trial but I have no money. Zero dollars. College sucks.”

“Maybe you’d have money if you didn’t take everything from the minibar.”

“This is my Christmas present to myself!” Jake counters, turning the TV on.

“I’m not even gonna respond to that.” Amy rolls off the bed again to take out her laptop and it’s only a few short minutes before the beginning notes of the movie plays on the mediocre flat screen in front of them.

“Do you have any theories for the next-” Amy quickly shushes him, not so gently covering his mouth with her hand.

“Not surprised you’re a talker but don’t.” Amy whispers, “I like to hear to movie, we can talk after.”

She’s surprised that he stays quiet for the remainder of the movie. Jake was without fail the loudest person she knew, louder than her brothers. There were only a few comments and laughs shared between them - it even got flirty between them. Amy had never spent this much time alone with Jake and she didn’t expect them to get along without them being drunk. But they were both sober (he finally admitted he couldn’t afford the mini bar) and he was telling every dumb Star Wars joke ever said - she was genuinely having a good time.

Things only got weird again when she starts yawning and he’s suggesting they go to bed. It had been a good night so there was no reason that had to change. Amy would be an adult about it, and maybe she was actually wrong about Jake being an immature child obsessed with an action movie. Jake was a smart and capable adult, compassionate and funny and obsessed with an action movie to no end.

Climbing into bed, Jake is already facing her propped up on his arm. “Now that we aren’t watching the movie wanna talk about theories?”

“Okay, hit me.” Amy shifts so she’s in the same position.

With her permission, he launches into a long spiel of theories. Ones he had seen on the internet and some that he thought of himself when he had been putting off his study. “But my favourite part of the sequels are Finn and Poe, and I know Disney sucks so they probably won’t get together but I have this whole idea of how they could.”

Jake continues to ramble on about his idea, and her stomach drops as he continues because she knew this idea all too well. It was one of her favourite fanfictions. But there was no way - no way there was a not awkward way to ask, and no way Jake could write a story so beautiful.

“Jake, I have a strange question.” Amy sits up, twisting her hands.

“What is it?” Jake looks concerned at the change of her behaviour and that only makes her more nervous.

“Did you write blink back to let me know? Th-the story?” Amy avoids his eyes, so she doesn’t see them crinkle up as he begins to laugh.

“Who would’ve guessed? Amy Santiago is a big enough of a nerd to read fanfiction!” Jake prods at her twisted hands to gain her attention. “I did write that. Small world, huh?”

“You’re not embarrassed?”

“No, I love Finn and Poe a lot.” Jake levels himself to Amy. “It’s just a fun hobby.”

“A hobby? That is my favourite fanfic, Jake. You’re amazing!” Amy waves her hands around, obviously flustered. “You’re you and you wrote that and it’s so beautiful but it came from your weirdo brain! I just need a sec.”

“The most important thing is did you give me kudos?” Jake teases.

“Jake it’s literally bookmarked on my phone.” Amy makes a move to prove it and his draw drops when he sees it open on her phone.

“I’m flattered!”

“I’m so confused.”

“Oh come on!” Jake scoffs with another laugh, “Surely it’s not that surprising that I have an adorably romantic side to me!”

“It’s completely surprising!” Amy sucked in a breath when he winked at her, “But I like it.”

Amy isn’t surprised to find herself cuddled to Jake when she wakes up. Stupid tropes that Jake apparently loves to write about.

She couldn’t help that it was freezing and needed the extra body heat to stay alive in the old B&B. Looking outside she finds that the storm had fizzled out and their landscape was completely covered in fluffy white snow. It would be a little while before they would be able to leave; she can hear the snow plow a few streets over so as soon as it cleared the street they were on, they could leave.

Jake is still asleep when she exits the bathroom, dressed and ready for the day. He was almost as cute asleep as he was when he went on about his stories. Even when he didn’t shut up about Die Hard he was cute.

Usually Amy didn’t care for crushes. No guy was ever enticing enough for her to want to get all giggly over. But right now Amy wanted to press kisses on his face until he woke up and smiled the dumb dopey grin he did when he would fall asleep in the car. She remembers thinking he was cute then, but never thought to act on it, he was too immature.

“Morning writer boy.” Amy pokes his cheek a few times, laughing as he attempts to snuggle further into the bed. “Come on, we need to be ready to leave soon.”

Jake makes extremely unintelligible noises and it has Amy rolling her eyes, “Words of a poet.”

He takes a pillow next to him, throwing it at Amy as he rolls out of bed. It takes him only a few minutes to walk to the bathroom, so Amy was hopeful that they would be able to check out by the deadline. Jake takes an extra five minutes over the check out time but the old lady at reception gives them a break, calling them an adorable couple as they arrive at the desk bickering.

“Hey, uh, since the street hasn’t been cleared…” Jake turns to Amy after he closes the trunk of her car. Amy tilts her head at him, and she has to hide her smile because his nervousness was making her nervous. “Do you wanna go see Star Wars?”

Amy lets out a short laugh, “I… What about your mom?”

“I think she’d be fine if I saw it with someone else if she knew it was a date…” Jake shrugs at her, and his blush was most certainly not from the cold. “The movie theatre is a just a couple of blocks away.”

“A date?” Amy tucks the loose strands of hair back behind her ears, and her heart is beating so loud and this is not what she expected from a road trip with Jake.

“I, uh, it’s okay if you don’t wanna!” Jake trips over his words for a moment, “I just think you’re super cool and I’ve thought about it for ages but I thought you didn’t like me or something and last night…”

Amy interrupts him with a step forward and a soft peck to his cheek. It turns out he could go more pink. “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

Jake offers his arm and she takes the hint quickly, her arm sliding around his bicep. “Now do you wanna make bets on who they’re gonna kill off?”

#my fics #b99 fanfiction #peraltiago fic #jake x amy fic #peraltiago

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bubmyg · 6 years ago

Text

room 304a - pjm

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: college!au, e2l but you don’t have to squint quite as hard, fluff

word count: 1,969

summary: maybe if you wouldn’t have agreed to carpool with park jimin to the airport then you could have made an earlier flight and not gotten delayed or where you end up sharing a hotel room you can barely afford on christmas eve with your worst enemy

a/n: part 3 of my holiday drabbles!! masterlist to the series will be added later but in the mean time if u need it, don’t hesitate to send me an ask :’-)

The woman’s leg you tripped over upon departing from Jimin should have given you some sort of clue to your eventual fate. She was propped up against her suitcase, neck cocked at an odd angle, passport clutched in the hand over her stomach, a giant grey hoodie curled over her eyes. A few feet down and there was another one, this time a businessman, hoarding the two outlets with his laptop he was hammering furiously away on and the smartphone tucked between his shoulder and ear.

You had a sneaking inclination that the fine layer of ice that had fishtailed the front tires of Jimin’s car would lead to a few cancellations. You’d almost considered not even making the trip outside, calling off your free ride to the airport and going back to sleep to try again another time. Another day. Another holiday. You’d shut off three alarms and nearly coaxed your eyelids back to sleep when an incessant honking could be heard outside your complex.

He’d flipped over his phone screen when you’d angrily tore open the passenger door, hair frozen permanently from a combination of sub zero temperatures and the thick, flakey precipitation falling from blackened clouds.

“My flight’s not canceled yet,” Jimin insisted, shaking the device again at you. You’d barely taken it from him when he was prodding, “Is yours?”

Frozen hair and nearly falling face first off the front stairs to your complex when your suitcase wheel got lodged in the shutting door didn’t seem worth the lie that would cause you just as much trouble to lock yourself back in your apartment. “No,” You flung the device, catching in between the crease of his thighs, “It’s not.”

He grinned, rolling the engine back over and cranking on the heat. “Well get in. You’re going to make me miss my flight.”

It was nearly the same discussion two weeks prior, the lecture droning out on deaf ears as you absently scrolled through your laptop. You already had a flight picked, slightly out of your budget but early enough to bypass the plagued amount of snow predicted to fall. There was a handful of cheaper flights, barely making the cut off for inches of ice that would proceed feet of snow. Your monitor hovered on one of them, just long enough for you to cup your phone in your palm and consider the damage to your bank account.

You felt the embroidered logo of whatever fraternity hoodie Jimin wasn’t a part of brush against your shoulder, arm traveling down the link of yours to point a ring clad index finger against the flight currently splayed across your screen.

“That’s what day I’m leaving,” He announced, voice an obnoxious whisper against your cheek.

You ignored him.

“We could carpool,” He prodded, nail clipping against your laptop screen. The lid jumped with the jerking movement, “Like, I’ll drive you. If you want.”

“That’s okay.”

Jimin sighed, plopping into the seat next to you. Bright eyes under fluffy bangs dodged, trying to meet your eyes under your phone until you finally relented, dropping it against your keyboard to meet his gaze.

“It’ll save you the like fifty dollars to get a car there,” Deft fingers stroked through stark black locks and you wanted to bite him, “If you can handle being in a car with me for forty minutes.”

“I’d really like it if I weren’t around you now.”

“Babe,” His lips quirked when your shoulders sagged at the endearment, “Let me drive you to the airport. Our flights would be at the same time. It’ll save you money and the risk of dying—” He grinned, nudging you, “—I’m a great driver.”

Was the combined hundred and twenty dollars it would take for a car and the expedited flight worth braving forty-five minutes confined to a limited space smelling of stale beer and and Jimin’s tangy cologne? The sensible part of your conscious spoke before the irritated half could argue, rolling your tongue over your lips and forcing the words of strangled agreement out of your mouth.

Softly, you relented, “I’ll pay you a little bit.”

Triumphant, he wiggled around in the chair, thumb stroking over the far end of keys on your laptop. “I’ll only charge you for your portion of McDonald’s breakfast on the way,” He leaned back in his chair, hands folded behind his head, “and another thing? Don’t make me late for my flight.”

You switched out of the tab with your offhand, adding the different tickets and absently poking in your credit card number while he pattered at your free hand with drumming fingers.

“Fine.”

He diverged paths, gate on the opposite side of the airport from yours, leaving with nothing but a promise to text him for a ride back to campus after break ended. It took no more than common sense and five minutes for you to discover your flight was canceled, slumping against a wall and pulling open a text thread of the person you hoped not to be contacting for three weeks, not three minutes.

Coming, stay put.

You saw the screaming threads of his ripped jeans wrapped around his thighs first, swallowing your irritation at the snug black denim that morphed into baggy black hoodie and black beanie being adjusted by the heel of his palm over tousled black strands. He waved the contents of his free hand when he caught your eye contact, dimpled smile pressing into his skin as he shouldered past the last of the crowd.

“Bad news, my flight was canceled too,” Jimin’s backpack hit the wall next to you, thighs bulging in your peripheral when he crouched, fluttering the papers once more, “Good news. They gave me a voucher for a one night stay in the adjourning hotel.”

You snatched the papers into your lap, scanning them with knit eyebrows. “What…” He still had that stupid smile written all over his features, tiny giggle emitting as his eyes pressed into soft crescents, “How? There are like thousands of people waiting here—”

“Fly with the right airline,” He shrugged, “...or cash in on your dad’s flyer miles and pure luck that they just had a room come open.”

You handed the papers back to him, trading your grip for the strap of your carry-on instead. “Well, that’s good for you—” You shifted, flopping your cheek against the stitching, “—I hope you sleep well in a bed.”

Jimin’s fingers wrapped around your bag, tugging until your cheek faltered and you had to sit up to glare at him. Wide eyed, he spluttered, “What are you talking about? You’re coming with me.”

“I barely had the money to pay you for McDonald’s after spending money on this stupid flight I can’t even make now,” You glowered, “so what makes you think I could ever pay you back for an overpriced hotel room on one of the worst weather nights of the year?”

“You still owe me fifty-six cents for that McMuffin, by the way.”

You had to blink three times to understand he was kidding, and even then you still whacked his shoulder as hard as you could manage.

“Dad’s card paid for most of it,” Jimin leaned closer, “He doesn’t have to know you stayed with me. You don’t have to pay me back. Consider it partial reimbursement for me copying your notes all semester. And for letting Tae drop that drink on you at Kappa. And whatever else you hate me for.”

“I don’t hate you,” You mumbled.

“Great!” His hand was thrust in yours before you could blink, squeezing, “Then do me the honor of sharing a ridiculously overpriced hotel room with me for one night.”

You sighed.

“Fine.”

You barely had time to be startled by the single king bed occupying the majority of the darkened hotel room when Jimin was shrugging past you, hand lingering across the swell of your waist to drop his bag somewhere near the bathroom door. Crooked arms engulfed one entire side of plush pillows, dragging them onto the floor near the foot of the bed. You let him work for a moment, only shuffling in enough to let the door shut behind you to give some support to your shoulders.

“What are you doing?”

He grinned toothily, peeling back the extra blanket folded neatly to the corner of the mattress to plop on top of his mountain of pillows. “Making my bed,” He cocked an eyebrow, sitting into his hip with arms crossed expectantly over his chest, “What are you doing?”

Your bag dropped audibly on top of his, rolling and plopping against the floor in the silence. You mirrored his stance, arms folded tightly, shoulder pressing into the wall.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor.”

“What are you going to?”

You sniffed, rolling your shoulders, “Yes.”

Jimin laughed, giggled, throwing his stature sideways into the bottom of the bed so hard the frame creaked and groaned under the weight of his joy. He came to just enough to lay out a hard no before breaking into another fit of giggles.

“Nice try though, babe.”

You waited until he ventured downstairs to find something edible, parking yourself underneath the mountain of blankets he’d piled to the carpet with your neck craned upward at the mindless newscast scrolling over the television. He was silent to your petty actions upon reentry, wordlessly dropping a plastic bag onto your chest before grunting, “I’m going to shower.”

He humored you, planting his ass in the rocking chair adjacent from your cocoon, feet kicked up on the corner of the mattress as he squinted at his phone screen. It wasn’t you waddled back from the bathroom, turning off the television from the same feed of the blowing snow outside and announcing, “I’m going to bed”, did he change course of action.

The light of Jimin’s phone disappeared in your peripheral, dull anyway from the puffy sheets tucked around your cheeks. You were hypersensitive to his movements, socked feet pricking at the creaking carpet until your sheet tent shifted at the tangle of your legs. Your neck snapped, nearly smacking your forehead against Jimin as he was lowering himself in beside you.

“What are you doing?” You hissed, tensing when an arm draped over your waist.

“Sleeping on the floor,” Soft brown glittered amber from the snowy ambiance reflecting through sheer curtains. He shifted, making room for himself on your pillow, “What are you doing?”

You swallowed, nose a featherweight away from Jimin’s. “This is ridiculous.”

“You started it.”

You groaned, twisting and nearly impaling a protruding metal frame through your eye in the fumbling process it took to stand in the darkness. You hoarded the sheets and blankets to your chest as you went, leaving Jimin curled up on nothing but a pillow on the floor. You tossed the heap aside, holding out wiggling fingers to the amused boy below.

“C’mon.”

He took your hand, feigning dead weight when you tugged on him. “First you don’t want to be anywhere near me and now you want to share a bed with me,” He wiggled an eyebrow, twisting to a sitting position with elbows on bent knees, still clutching onto your fingers, “Should have got stranded in an airport with you months ago, babe.”

“Jimin,” You traded holding his fingers for lightly nudging his shin with your toes, once, twice, four times until he winced, “Get in bed with me.”

He fumbled too except metal on the mattress became the caps of your knees, clutching around the back of your thighs as he stabilized his figure. His chin dug into the seam between your thighs, grinning up at you with swollen eyes and tousled hair and the entire weight of your rapidly beating heart threatening to spill out of your ribcage.

“Yes, ma’am.”

#park jimin #bts #bts reactions #bts scenarios #jimin scenarios #park jimin scenarios #park jimin imagine #jimin imagine #jimin x reader #park jimin x reader #bts x reader #jimin fluff #all is calm series #:'-)#this isn't edited btw #like at all

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austennerdita2533 · 6 years ago

Note

How do you think Rory and Jess are celebrating New Year's? Because they're together, right?! I like to think they are by now!

I’d like to believe they’re together, too! In fact, I’d like to believe it so much that I wrote a thing about it…a oneshot, if you will. The damn thing just poured out of me yesterday. I don’t know what happened, but there was no stopping it lol. Sorry not sorry.

(A03) (FF.net)

Happy New Year, my lovely friend! Here’s some post-revival Literati for you to start off 2019 right. 💗

xx Ashlee Bree

Like A Calendar, The Heart Skips Forward

With drunken crowds, ugly tinsel streamers which hang in windows, and snow that’s beginning to stick to the city streets in inches as deterrents, they decide to spend the night in. At home.

The baby’s with her grandparents tonight, probably high on too much sugar and Dr. Seuss. Knowing Luke, he’s likely baby proofing everything again to be safe while Lorelai’s using scary voices so her granddaughter never goes near the stove (but hey, neither did Rory, and she’s turned out fine, hasn’t she?), so she and Jess have plenty of time to themselves. That’s a rarity these days, especially with a toddler in the picture. Alone time seems possible only at ungodly hours in the morning anymore, or during nap time, or in stolen minutes between hectic work schedules. So they’re grateful to Mom and Luke for the offer to babysit every now and again. And they love to do it, to spoil her little angel rotten with small town affection and attention. All the people of Stars Hollow love it, too.

As for Rory and Jess, they enjoy these adult-only nights. It’s a time to revel in intellect, in intimacy.

They love to tune into the timbre of the other’s conversation and fade into each new day talking, listening. It’s exhilarating to them to share new ideas. To uncover deeper feelings in their relationship, but also for them to reach further into the world to figure out what more they can do. Experience. Be.

Parties hold no charms for them this evening. Neither do bars or over-priced concert tickets. Invites from friends go unanswered because they forget to read their messages. They’re more than content to spend the night far away from the end-of-the-year bombast, anyway, with nothing but each other and the hum of this ratty old radiator for company.

They live in an old building so it’s no one’s fault when a malfunction occurs, as one often does.

Luckily, the heat works fine thanks to Jess and his patient tinkering. (Rory never says it out loud, but she swears he’s inherited this from Luke.) Countless hours he spends bent over tools with a concentrative crease in his forehead because their super, Mel, is a slovenly middle-aged coot who binges too much Netflix and refuses to answer knocks on his door from any of his tenants past 9 P.M. Mel likes to blame this incompetence on narcolepsy, but truthfully, it’s because the couch has molded to his prone body by that point, the television playing episode after episode of Frasier or The West Wing, so why trouble himself to move? Better yet, why not put his ringer on silent and ignore all the incoming calls he receives?

(Spoiler alert: he does.)

Encountering one of the Seven Deadly Sins in an actual person still seems a little ridiculous to Rory, borderline unlikely here; especially in a city teeming full of worker bees who supposedly never sleep, but they’ve managed well enough with the radiator on their own. And by well, she means she’s prone to kicking the darn thing any time it roars like it’s a beast straight out of Kevin McCallister’s nightmares in Home Alone.

It’s cozy and comfortable in the apartment tonight, however. Just the way they like it.

That means Rory’s in her favorite pair of slippers, big cumbersome things with floppy ears and shaggy puppy faces curiously similar to Paul Anka’s. Her hair’s loose, fallen past her shoulders, and her arms are stuffed into an oversized Cashmere sweater. Meanwhile, her boyfriend’s walking around barefoot, half-naked in a pair of boxer briefs and a green v-neck tee, his jeans in a ball near the door, seemingly impervious to the December weather.

Is he secretly a werewolf or something, she wonders? An alien? Or just some weirdo who sweats when it’s only sixteen degrees outside, a furnace for girls like her who huddle closer for warmth and never utter a word of complaint?

Music plays low in the background. It’s a playlist curated on one of their phones. Songs from Bjork, the Clash, the Distillers, so many other new and old bands - their favorites - add to the ambiance of this eclectic space they call home.

A half-edited manuscript perches on the edge of the coffee table. Its pages are blotted with black ink and arrowed notes that spill wide into the margins because Jess had spent the morning editing his latest draft, unsatisfied because his characters aren’t where he wants them to be yet. Books litter the kitchen counter. They sit scattered across the floor in organized piles near shelves that are already overflowing, some still stuffed in paper bags because they’d pilfered a thrift shop earlier and now can find nowhere to store the bulky bastards. (Typical for a pair of bookworms who will never have enough reading material between them.)

Appointment reminders and cute little post-it notes stick to the refrigerator in an array of colors. Most are in Rory’s hand, flourished in cursive or silliness, except for the few Jess added by famous authors or musicians because the words moved him; or because he thought they’d start her day with a pretty thought. A smile. A laugh that’d brighten the blue of her eyes.

The living area’s a messy snapshot of their family life with its stench of stale coffee, cologne, and baby lotion. There’s a jacket thrown over the arm of a plush designer sofa and way too many half-empty boxes of Pop Tarts fighting for space in the cupboard with jars of smooth peanut butter and pureed carrots. A laundry basket holds many of the little one’s toys: choo-choo trains, baby dolls, a Batmobile, three sets of ABC blocks, a Wonder Woman figurine, and a stuffed robot aptly named Bee-Doo.

The remote control is always lost somewhere unknown. They might as well attach a key finder around its middle. Or perhaps they should rip up the floorboards instead - a lá the Tell-Tale Heart - because it never takes less than twenty minutes to find the stupid gadget. Either it’s buried under cushions, kicked under miles of folded clothing or prose, or it’s stuffed beneath pillows with spare kernels of popcorn and pens attached to the buttons. Worse than all of that, though, is how the lost-and-found treasure hunt never seems to diminish their scrolling-for-something-to-watch minutes at all. Not in the slightest!

Later, they order takeout from five of their favorite places. It’s too much food for two people to consume in one meal, but who cares? It’s never stopped her or her mother before, so why start now?

There’s pizza, burgers, Thai, Chinese, and one heaping order from that Indian place she’d found around the corner about a month after they’d moved to Brooklyn. It has the most delicious, pungent food so naturally that leaves Jess scrunching his nose and Rory twinkling appreciatively because he’s caved to her doe-eyed pout for once, her belly and heart happy for getting their way.

“See here, mister: victory is mine! I knew you loved me too much to deny me. Admit it,” she says before pecking him sweetly on the cheek.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says after he pays for the delivery and dumps the bags on the table. “Whatever you say.” He remains noncommittal, but the truth shines in his eyes. “Just don’t complain about the cold when I open all the windows. It’ll take weeks to air out the stink in here—weeks. Probably three.”

“Two.”

“Three,” he fires back.

“Two.”

“Okay, two…maybe.” He brushes hair from her face and lets his fingers linger, then smiles her favorite crooked smile. “If we’re damn lucky, anyway.”

After dinner, they eat cheesecake with a bottle of wine. Ice cream with cones is Jess’s dessert preference usually, but they’re out, so they settle for booze and a tasty variation on dairy to help them compile their to-read lists for 2019. He’s on the left side of the sofa, her on the right. Call it a private, serious exercise. Extra points docked for peeking or flirting.

Such a silly idea it is, really, this hoarding then exchanging of lists. Yet it’s a fun way to pass the hours before midnight. Even more fun when they discover the selections that align, and those that don’t, sending them into a tizzy’d discussion about literature and writers the other still needs to know. Pretty soon, another list follows full of recommended titles Jess thinks she should read in the New Year, and vice versa.

Lane had called them a cute agoraphobic couple once, many years ago, if Rory remembers correctly. And by golly, what a label! If only she were here to see them right now, tangled in warmth and limbs and solitude.

She beams at the memory because that’s what she and Jess were back then. It’s what they still are. It’s who they want to be this New Year’s Eve, and the next…and the next…and for every one after for as long as they can live them like this: in love, happy, and together. They’d live this way forever, if only wishes like this could be granted.

“What I wouldn’t give for a Fairy Godmother right now,” she blurts out without thinking, all wrapped up in blankets and curled tight into his chest. “To have a dash of Disney magic or two in my possession would be supercalifragilistic.”

“Why? You don’t need saving.”

“That’s true.”

“So is it Prince Charming you’re after?” Jess asks with a quirk of the eyebrow.

Frowning, “What kind of girl do you take me for? I’m a feminist.”

“You want to freeze the world like Elsa then, huh? Is that it?”

“No.” Tracing his lips with her forefinger, Rory pauses. Reconsiders. “Well, I mean…only if I got to spend all of that time skating across it with you.”

“You mean falling,” Jess mutters.

“Rude! Read my lips: skating.”

He shrugs then. It’s followed by a smirk. “Impossible things are happening every day…or so it goes.”

Giggling, she shoves him, then covers her mouth with her hands.

“Wow, I can’t believe you’re quoting Whitney Houston from Roger and Hammerstein’s Cinderella. Who are you?”

“Like you haven’t seen it. Give me a break.”

“Many times,” she says, “but that’s not the point. The point is you’ve given a Gilmore ammunition to mock you for the rest of your life. Hasn’t Luke warned you about this? We’re unapologetic mockers, Mom and I.”

“Jeez, you’re mean,” Jess says with a shake of his head and an affectionate pinch to her side. “I should start calling you Grory.”

“Hey, no fair! I’m no Grinch. No Grendel, either.”

“Pre-coffee, that’s arguable.”

“I demand a re-write,” she says, crossing her arms, determined for her pout to win out for a second time.

“No way,” he replies. “That’s too much work, Green One.”

“Fine. As long as you realize you’re stuck with me regardless.”

“Am I?”

“Aren’t you?” Rory asks like a question that dangles then deflates. Her voice catches with uncertainty. The sound’s worse than the squeal a lobster makes in a boiling pot as she shifts onto her ankles on the sofa to pin him with a wide-eyed look, her heart pounding, mouth drier than Death Valley in the middle of a drought. Color rushes to her cheeks because Jess remains silent before her…because he reaches for the tattered copy of Persuasion that’s perched near his feet so he can underline one of Captain Wentworth’s most famous passages in black ink. I can listen no longer in silence, it reads. You pierce my soul. She knows the quote well. She knows it by heart.

However, it’s not until Jess scribbles down his own line onto the page with some rogue pen he’s found teetering on a shoe with no mate, his hand trembling, the apple in his throat bobbing like it’s been pinched by some invisible force he never saw coming; and it isn’t until he places the book in her lap so she can read what he wrote, that joyful disbelief betrays her. That her tears start flowing and flowing. They cover her face in red-eyed tenderness and devotion.

One look back at him, and she knows he feels the same. The love between them so real and so right, it fills the calendar with fulfillment they no longer wish to live without.

Marry me?

Two words, and the jerk’s a poet. Two words, and it’s only him she sees. Two words, one question, and Rory’s faced with an answer that takes no energy to give at all.

I’d be honored to be the Anne to your Wentworth, she writes back with shaky fingers and a grin so big she can barely see. So yes! Yes! A million times yes!

Wine switches to scotch sooner rather than later after that. Then talking turns to kissing, kissing moves to roving touches without either one of them noticing.

Both hands of the clock reach nearer and nearer to twelve as Rory pauses the movie they weren’t actually watching with a yawn, her sapphire diamond sparkling in the T.V’s muted light. Then she stands to refill their glasses one final time before 2018 ends, slippers scratching against the carpet. Jess wraps his arms around her waist while she pours. He smells of booze and sex and home.

Eyes closed and body rocking, he places a kiss against her arm, her shoulder, her neck, her mouth. He leaves a promise there that tastes of all that awaits them and more.

Together, they watch the snowflakes fall and drift to the fire escape outside their window, a moment of quiet before they pack the rest of the leftovers away so they can head to bed with this year lapsed behind them like another chapter closing. The page turns, and before they know it, December endings become January beginnings. The calendar’s blank and in wait for prose that has yet to be written, both of them looking forward to another 365 days full of learning, laughter, commitment, and so many more family firsts along the way.

#ksfd89 #literati #literati drabbles #literati fanfiction #rory and jess #ashlee bree's writing endeavors #my writing brain has two modes #either 1) blocked; or 2) write 2k in one sitting #there is no in-between

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