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forlix · 1 year

Text

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞・l.f.

— five times you want to tell your best friend you love him and the time you finally do.

words・7.7k

pairing・idol!felix x gn!reader

genres・fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn w/a happy ending, 5 + 1 trope, idiots in love who are also afraid of love, you do the math

warnings・alcohol consumption, discussions of anxiety, lots of emotional vulnerability, like a surprising amount of crying icl

playlist・jazz bar by dreamcatcher・spring day by bts・through the night by iu・eight by iu ft. suga・house song by searows・not mine by day6

a/n・i borrowed the title of this beautiful day6 song for this fic; give it a listen if you can (especially while reading part four). happy late birthday, lix <333 thank you for being you

One. The door to the café opens with a soft jingle, bringing a chilly draft into the room and causing you to draw your scarf tighter around your shoulders.

Theoretically, you come here to study—but people-watching has become a simultaneous pastime. There was that couple with a pair of samoyeds, so fluffy that they looked like walking clouds; a mother and son, hunched over their croissants, arguing in a classic “don’t cause a scene in public” tone; an elderly woman in bicycle shorts asking for extra shots of espresso in the menu’s most caffeinated item.

And now, there is him.

“Hello,” the ashy-haired stranger says to the barista with a quick, polite bow. “May I have a medium caramel latte? Hot, with sweetener, please. Thank you.”

His voice reminds you of the notes of a cello, of the feeling of running your fingers through tufted velvet. When he turns away from the counter, he’s slipping a card back into his wallet, and you catch a glimpse of long lashes and a scattering of freckles. You cannot see his face, as it’s covered by a black mask, but that only propels the question further: who are you?

And perhaps it is destiny herself who hooks a gentle finger beneath the stranger’s chin and tilts his head upwards, because when he inadvertently steps into a patch of sunlight, his brown irises illuminate like molten amber, and they are fixed upon you.

You feel your lips part, your stomach turn. You don’t know if your cheeks are so warm because of your piping hot tea (your third one today) or because of the newfound eye contact with someone so ethereal.

But you are sure that the corners of the stranger’s eyes crinkle ever so slightly, as if his lips have just curved into a smile beneath his mask.

“Felix,” the barista calls, and you turn the name silently on your tongue.

Maybe you are exhausted from work and not thinking straight. Maybe you are more starved for change than you’ve ever been. Or maybe you’re just prophetic. But you think you sense forever in this man, with his freckled cheeks and pretty eyes.

That is the first time you want to tell Lee Felix you love him.

Two. The second Felix comes into your line of vision, you sense that something is wrong.

You hold up a hand in greeting, and the smile he returns is sincere but muted, as if it pains him to move, to breathe. He sounded weary on the phone earlier—can I see you tonight? Just for a bit—but only now that he’s in front of you do you see the extent of his fatigue, seeping into his sunken shoulders and lightless eyes.

“Hi,” he says once he’s close enough.

“Hey, you,” you answer, rising out of your seat. Instinctively, he extends his arms toward you, and you draw him into a hug that is fleeting and familiar. He smells faintly of laundry detergent and vanilla, and it makes something within you ache, like an oyster searching for its absent pearl.

When you pull away, your hands move to your best friend’s cheeks, cocooning his face so you can get a better look at him. Even under the sparse streetlights, you see that his eyes are slightly bloodshot, the shadows beneath them deep and sullen. Has he been crying?

“Bad day?” You ask, your hands falling back to your sides.

“The worst,” he returns with a weak smile.

“Wanna take a walk?”

“Yes, please. How long do I have you for?”

This is what you do when your schedules are too packed for you to make real plans: take strolls wherever is most convenient, for however long either of you can spare. Sometimes that’s five minutes, sometimes five hours. But you know that you need to be here for him tonight.

“As long as you need me,” you say.

You turn around to pick up your drinks (a decaf caramel latte for Felix and a black milk tea for yourself), and you don't see the way his smile comes back a little bigger the second time, the way his cheeks warm slightly under the moonlight.

There’s a small park a few blocks behind your apartment. Granted, it's not a very good park, with only a tiny, sad playground and very little foliage, but it is an excellent stargazing spot, due to it being so dark and desolate. You and Felix decide to head there now, your arms touching as you walk through the quiet residential area.

Ten minutes later, blades of grass are poking the back of your head, and directly above you is a sea of scattered stars, flickering like millions of faulty flashlights. Felix’s voice is leaden when he starts to speak, breaking the park’s fragile silence. He tells you about his fears, about how earlier today they overwhelmed him so much that he wanted to lock himself away from the world and throw away the key. He tells you about his dreams, about how even in his relentless pursuit of them they sometimes still feel as amorphous and unattainable as fragments of mist.

The way he always does when he’s around you, Felix spills parts of himself that he never thought he could entrust to anyone. And you don’t say a word, your knee leaning against his, listening, understanding. (But you wish you could tell him a lot of things: that you care for him more than you ever believed yourself capable; that you hope for his happiness more than your own; that you don’t have the words to heal him, but you would give anything to find them.)

By the time the two of you leave the park, it’s almost midnight, and the streets have fallen silent save for the occasional whoosh of car wheels on cement and the distant lamentations of cricket choirs. You’re making small talk now, and Felix is smiling a little easier. It seems your conversation worked in cheering him up; a temporary fix, you’re sure, like a bandaid where stitches should be, but seeing his eyes crinkle and hearing his laugh again is enough to soothe your worry for the rest of the night, at the very least.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay going back yourself?” You ask once the two of you reach the entrance to your apartment building.

“Yeah, of course.” Felix touches the back of his neck apologetically. “I’m sorry I kept you out so late.”

“Nonsense, Lix. I’m always here for you.”

Felix averts his eyes to his shoes, and you’re caught off guard by his facial expression: exhausted but contemplative, and possessing a sense of tenderness. It is a look that you don’t think you’ve seen before, and you feel your heartstrings pull at its unfamiliarity, its strange softness.

You say your goodbyes, but your "let me know when you get home safe" is cut short when you feel a hand catch your wrist, just as you’re entering the building.

How Felix doesn’t notice your frantic pulse beneath his touch is beyond you, but instead he parts his lips, and his next words resound in your mind as you try and fail to fall asleep that night.

“I can’t explain why, or how—but I feel braver when I’m with you, Y/N. I meant to tell you that earlier.”

And those three words rush to your mind fleetingly, like saltwater crashing against the shores of your mind. Even when the tide has subsided, they remain on the sand, waiting to be read aloud.

“Thank you,” Felix mumbles, “for everything.”

You don’t read out those words, of course. Instead, you reach up to squish Felix’s face and call him a sentimental dork, to which he rolls his eyes affectionately and bats you away, and the moment is over. But when you turn to go, your heart is pounding so loudly that your reply may as well have been a confession.

Three. You sink into your mattress, careful to keep your tea within your mug’s rim, and let out a hybrid of a groan and a sigh that is strikingly reminiscent of an old man lowering himself into a worn armchair.

You can’t remember the last time you had a cold this terrible. It feels as if your lungs took a plunge in a vat of wet cement and then rolled around in gravel immediately afterward. And it’s got you in the mood to do nothing but listen to the heavy drops of rain knocking against your window, curl up with a good show and a hot drink, and bask in your own congestion.

But then your phone, which you left in the bathroom, emits four deafening notification sounds, and you haul yourself back out of bed with a groan-sigh that’s twice as anguished as the last.

When you reach the hellish device, your best friend’s name greets you, and your ire dissipates momentarily.

From: Lix 🐣 Hey hey From: Lix 🐣 We still on for dinner tonight? From: Lix 🐣 Just gonna be me, Minho, Seungmin. Jeongin has a vocal lesson From: Lix 🐣 Please don’t play the “if Jeongin doesn’t go neither do I” card again I’ve had enough of it!!! ENOUGH

You let out a throaty laugh that sounds like one of Minho’s cats battling a hairball, heading back to bed.

From: Y/N 🌙 ahhhh i meant to text you earlier, but i have the worst cold From: Y/N 🌙 no clue how or why i caught it but i feel like fucking shit. it’d be a bad idea for me to come over right now From: Y/N 🌙 sorry :( can we raincheck in a few days? From: Y/N 🌙 (that way jeongin can come too!!!)

Felix dislikes this last text, and you snort into your tea.

From: Lix 🐣 Yeah, of course. Don’t apologize From: Lix 🐣 Do you need anything? You’re eating and sleeping well, yeah? From: Y/N 🌙 sleeping, YES. From: Y/N 🌙 eating, not really 😅 but i don’t have much of an appetite anyways From: Y/N 🌙 don’t worry about me. i’ll be raring to go in a day or two

Felix starts to type a response, but the gray dots disappear after a bit, and you set your phone face-down on your nightstand. He probably has to get back to work, and you have to get back to your episode.

Slowly, the soporific fragrance of chamomile and the lull of relentless rain start to weigh on your eyelids, and you slump unconsciously into your makeshift fortress of blankets, your show playing to nobody.

Night has fallen by the time the door of your apartment clicks open, and Felix pokes a head into your dark kitchen, cautiously calling out your name. When you don’t respond, he slips inside and moves to your kitchen counter, where he unloads the bags in his arms. A spare key to your place dangles from the opening of his hoodie pocket.

There’s a quiet knock on your bedroom door, another call of your name—infinitely softer this time, like how one would speak to a dove. But Felix finds you out like a light, even when he closes your laptop and puts it on your desk, checks your temperature with a gentle hand to your forehead. It feels normal enough to let you sleep, but warm enough that he brings a glass of water and two pills of ibuprofen to your nightstand, placed within your reach, should you wake up in the middle of the night needing them.

Using only the slivers of light coming in from the hallway, Felix allows himself to look at your sleeping form. Your breathing is callous but steady; your face pallid but peaceful. And if only you'd seen see the tiny, helpless smile that pulls at his lips; if only you'd heard the pulse protesting against his skin, yelling at him “do something about this, you fucking idiot, and do it soon."

But you don’t see or hear anything; you just speak, instead.

“Stay with me,” you whisper, and Felix’s hand freezes on your doorknob, his eyes widening in the darkness. “Please?”

There is a lengthy period of nothing, during which neither of you makes another noise; there is only the sound of your clock ticking, raindrops rushing against the windows, and Felix’s heart in his ears.

And then he moves.

“C'mere,” Felix murmurs once he’s lying down next to you, and you nestle into his embrace as easily as if you've always belonged there, your face burrowing into the crook of his neck, your arms winding around his waist, searching for him, asking for him.

Felix has always expressed his affection for people through touch, and you’ve gotten used to his constant hand on your shoulder, his leg resting against yours. But he thinks this is the first time you’ve initiated physicality outright, and he feels a concerned pang in his chest at your unexpected vulnerability. He lifts a hand to cradle the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair.

“Gonna get you sick,” you say with a wet sniffle, your voice muffled against him. And Felix presses a kiss to the top of your head, perhaps without thinking as much as he should have; but who can blame him for forgetting to think when he’s holding you the way he is?

“Don’t care,” he answers readily. “I'm not going anywhere.”

At some point before you fall back asleep, you think your mouth actually forms the words I love you, subtly and silently and into the fabric of his hoodie. But you resume your slumber before you can think more of it. (Felix waits until your breathing is steady again, checks your temperature one more time; and only afterward does he allow his eyes to close.)

The next morning, you wake to an empty bed and a Post-It note explaining that Felix had to run to a recording session: Check your kitchen! See u soon x. Accompanied by a small, messy doodle of a baby chick popping out of its egg.

Your face melts into a smile when you see that the fridge is chock-full of fresh groceries and the pantry has been restocked with your favorite snacks, including a batch of Felix’s world-famous sea salt brownies—accompanied by another note with another doodle, this time a crescent moon wearing your sneakers. Sugar is prolly bad for you rn. Pls have in moderation!

When you pull out your phone to thank him for everything, you see his remaining texts from yesterday—and you feel momentarily empty, as if only then noticing that you've been missing a fraction of your soul your whole life.

From: Lix 🐣 I’ll drop by tonight to check on you From: Lix 🐣 Wait for me, okay?

And he is right in front of you, just out of reach.

Four. “This isn’t a bad idea, right?” Chan asks under his breath.

“Nah, they’ll be fine,” Minho replies, clapping a hand on the leader’s shoulder. “Y/N will take care of him.”

A loud yelp comes from up ahead, and the men whip around quickly enough to crack a joint—only to realize that the noise was the opening note of DAY6’s “Not Mine,” and you and Felix have just launched into song so terribly and so loudly that it’s probably awoken the entirety of Seoul.

“And who’s gonna take care of Y/N?”

The two men look at each other for a moment before deciding they’re not interested in talking the two of you out of a disorderly intoxication charge.

“Let me know when you get back!” Chan hollers after you, and they reenter the karaoke bar in a hurry.

The members decided to go out for karaoke after finishing promotions earlier that week, and Felix invited you to come along. And you might've gone a little overboard with the mango sake, but your level of tipsy is nothing compared to that of the blue-haired boy draped over you.

Felix is rather prone to hangovers, you’ve discovered from past experiences, so the moment he started speaking in some kind of nonsensical Korean-English mutation that not even Chan could understand, the members tasked you with taking him home early. Now, Felix has his arm around your neck, less out of affection and more out of a genuine requirement for support, doing his best to walk in a straight line. He hasn't stopped grinning for the last hour, and it doesn’t seem like he’s going to run out of energy anytime soon, not as long as there’s more of DAY6’s discography to butcher.

In spite of your foggy mind, you're well aware that your best friend has never been prettier. He sets the bar high as it is, but then you throw in the flushed lips and cheeks, the lopsided, ditzy grin, the wine-kissed complexion, and life becomes terribly difficult for you. It doesn’t help that alcohol amplifies his proclivity for physical contact—he's been attached to your hip all night, holding your waist, pulling you into incidental hugs.

Needless to say, your current situation is a bit precarious; but you don't know that. Not yet.

The two of you finish your disrespectful rendition of “Not Mine” just as you pass the apartment’s front desk, and it is only when you see the deadly look that the receptionist gives you over the brim of his glasses that you finally feel sober again. You have the sense to incline your head in apology. Felix, however, launches into “You Were Beautiful” without a care in the world.

You dig a pointed elbow into his ribs as you hit the up button, and his singing abruptly falters with a pained huff. "Ow."

“Take an intermission, superstar,” you say. “The receptionist looks like he’s ready to throttle us.”

“Ah, he would never. We’re tight,” he returns, and before you can stop him he’s lifting his head, raising his voice. “Have a good night, Mr. Seo!”

Your nose scrunches into an apprehensive wince—but instead, you think you hear a hint of a smile in the man's cool reply.

“You too, Mr. Lee. Keep your voices down, please.”

“Yes, sir!” You and Felix reply in unison. Felix gives you a smile that says I told you so before he nestles his cheek against your shoulder, and you shake your head. Nobody is immune to the boy’s brightness.

Entering the building seemed to be effective in calming Felix down. The elevator ride up is silent save for a bit of quiet humming, and you finally see a bit of sleep on his face when you open the door of his dorm and turn on the living room lights. He lets you escort him to his bathroom without a word.

“I’ll be here if you need me,” you say, reaching to pat his cheeks a couple times. “Be careful in there.”

“M’kay. Thank you," he says with a drowsy smile, and closes the door.

You pull out your phone and open up your messages with Chan, remembering his parting request.

To: Chan 🐺 we got back safe!! To: Chan 🐺 lix is gonna be okay. i'll take care of him

A few minutes later, a notification appears at the top of your screen; Chan left hearts on both of your messages and sent two in response.

From: Chan 🐺 Thanks, good to hear :) you get some rest too, okay? From: Chan 🐺 Bro tore that sake UP

You begin to type back a retort—give me a break it was basically JUICE—when you hear Felix call your name, his voice muffled through the bathroom door.

“What's up?” You answer.

“I think I’m...stuck.”

Now what the hell does that mean?

“Can I come in?”

“Mhm.”

You open the door, and your attempt to suppress your laughter fails with flying colors. Felix is well and truly stuck in his crewneck, the gray material swathed around his head, his arms positioned in some kind of advanced pretzel formation.

“You are a hot mess, Lee Yongbok," you sing, moving toward him, and he whines from inside his cotton prison.

“Please don’t kick me while I’m down.”

Grinning, you bring your fingers to the hem of his top and attempt to lift it over his head. He’s managed to tangle himself quite impressively, and the next few minutes are spent with you trying to extract him, like he’s that one nose hair that your tweezers have never been able to reach, all while he's moaning and groaning about the fabric catching on his earrings, about his joints not being able to handle this kind of pressure anymore.

He emerges from the crewneck a while later looking positively disgruntled. You toss the gray mass onto the counter, proud of your handiwork.

“So maybe I‘m a hot mess,” he concedes. “A little bit.”

“That's alright. We all have our moments,” you giggle. “Come on, let me help you with your jewelry.”

For a second, he looks like he’s about to protest—but the look you give him reminds him that his motor functions are currently on strike.

“Okay,” he mumbles adorably.

You position yourself a little closer to Felix and lift your hands to the nape of his neck, where the clasp of his chain lies. It takes you a few tries to undo it, and you end up having to use the mirror above the sink for guidance. Soon, there is a soft click. You set the chain down next to the crewneck before your hands return to the sides of his face, this time to tuck long, light blue strands behind the cuffs of his ears. Your fingers run over the curves of his silver earrings.

“Are these bothering you at all?” You ask nonchalantly. “I forgot you had so many piercings.”

In your peripheral vision, you see Felix’s lips move, but no sound comes out. Puzzled, you move your eyes to meet his, and it takes you one blink’s worth of time to understand the source of his speechlessness.

Somewhere between your reaching up to touch his necklace and the present moment, you’ve come incredibly, dangerously close to him. Close enough that you can count the freckles that speckle his skin like fallen stars, that you can feel the heat of his body against your own, that Felix’s eyes are nearly crossed trying to maintain eye contact with you.

Your heartbeat lodges itself firmly in your throat, and your thoughts evaporate into complete and utter disarray. There are three differently-worded apologies on the tip of your tongue within seconds. You immediately start to pray that he won’t remember this tomorrow morning. And your strongest impulse is to move; to get as far away from him as possible, before either of you does anything you'll regret.

But there is something that overwhelms your every instinct, and stops you from budging an inch. And that is the way Felix is looking at you, unblinking brown eyes filled with something that doesn’t have a name. It is the same tender expression that’d surprised you the first time you saw it, and it is with a spiraling stomach that you finally realize what that expression is.

You reach your conclusion a second after he does.

Felix’s hand lifts to cradle your jaw, his face moving closer to yours. Your foreheads touch, wisps of his hair falling over the bridge of your nose, your senses engulfed by the vanilla of his cologne and the touch of sweet wine on his breath. The scene is as delicate as a dragonfly’s tail dipping into a pond’s surface; even a minuscule disturbance would shatter this limbo instantaneously.

A part of you wishes that it would, but nothing does. There is only his pulse, perceptible through the thin cloth of his tank top, vehement beneath your fingertips—and your heart, naked and frail, sitting upon the palm of his hand.

Felix doesn’t push you away; he doesn’t kiss you. He does something far worse.

“I love you,” he whispers.

A few seconds. That is how long you stand there for, with every word of every language you know inaccessible, every qualm and doubt and source of anxiety that plagued your mind moments before now distant memories, every ounce of your energy channeled into keeping yourself upright.

But the few seconds feel like forever. The same way he has always felt like forever to you. The same way you imagined you would spend forever loving him, close enough for him to love you back, but far enough that he’ll never know the true nature of your affection: greater and truer than anything anyone would ever call friendship.

An urgent question suddenly surfaces in your mind: is he still drunk? He was falling up, down, and sideways minutes ago. Surely this was an intoxicated slip of the tongue. But you discern the slight tremble to Felix’s breathing and the intensity in his heavy-lidded gaze, all far too intentional, far too conscious to be wine-induced—leaving behind one impossible possibility.

You should be having your happy tears kissed from your face right now. You should be over the moon, relishing in the sensation of two stars aligning at long fucking last, the way you’ve dreamed of since the very first time you laid eyes on Felix.

But instead, you just feel inexplicably and profusely afraid.

You won’t remember the specifics of the next few minutes. You think you stumble away from him and whisper I’m sorry through watering eyes, though you don’t really know what for. He sputters something in return, his tone so desperate and confused that you feel your heart break to pieces on the spot. You apologize again, leave the bathroom, and move towards the apartment door as if your life depends on it. In your peripheral vision, you notice the crease of concern on Mr. Seo’s face when you stalk past him, tears now flying freely down your cheeks. You run into Minho and Jeongin when you step out of the building, and you see the worry that creases their faces, hear their voices calling your name. Jeongin's hand closes around your wrist—are you okay?! What the fuck happened?—but you do not, can not say anything, not right now.

And then you are alone again, and you briskly walk the two miles back to your apartment. Your mind and heart are every bit as foggy as the somber night sky that hangs over your head.

Five. When the two of you step out of the restaurant and into the evening, Felix turns around to face you, launching into his best tour guide walk.

“And, with that,” he says with a glowing smile, “we are nearing the end of our tour of Sydney.”

“Noooo,” you lament, reaching your arm out. Felix falls back into step beside you and links it with his, the movement like clockwork. Your jackets scrunch up together where your elbows bend. “Already?”

“Okay, the tour’s been going on for two days and you haven’t paid a cent for my toil. Don’t push your luck.”

Your laughter spills into the otherwise quiet avenue, the setting sun throwing shadows across the cement, but it always feels like midday when you have the brightest man in the world by your side.

When the two of you discovered you had a free weekend on the same days, Felix conjured up the idea of going home—and suggested that you go with him. You’d freaked out for a bit, but then Felix reminded you that his mom texts you on your birthday and that you’re on multiple different subscription plans with his sisters, and you collected yourself quite quickly. There was a lot of cheering over the phone when Felix informed his family that they’d finally get to meet you in person.

But such a fast trip to the other side of the world proved to be no easy feat. Felix took on the task of piecing together a travel plan that would cover most of his favorite spots in forty-eight hours. The last two weeks were filled with him fretting over the details and you fretting over him, asking time and time again if you could help with anything, only for him to shoo you away with a single hand and a pointed “you are my guest. Now leave me.”

With assistance from every other resource at his disposal, though, he pulled it off, and the weekend has been wonderful thus far.

“I think that was some of the best food I’ve ever had, seriously,” you hum. “I’ll be dreaming about those appetizers for the rest of my life.”

“I'm glad. It took a Socratic seminar to choose the place, after all."

(The Socratic seminar in question: a two-hour FaceTime call and an intense match of rock-paper-scissors between him and his siblings, aimed to decide on where Felix would take you for dinner the second night. Only for his mom to ignore all of their efforts and insist upon her own choice of restaurant instead—no ifs, ands, or buts.)

“We have to try your sisters’ recommendations the next time I visit, don’t we?”

“Yes," he returns, shuddering. "I think my family is done for if we don’t."

He has one place left to take you, and the two of you head there now, shoulder to shoulder, arm in arm.

A month has passed since that night.

You’ve tried with every fiber of your being to put the whole thing from your mind, of course to no avail. You see Felix’s flushed lips and gentle gaze every time you blink; you hear his “I love you” every time you’re alone, the words whispered in the wind and dragged over the earth, in tandem with your footsteps.

You wanted to fucking die of awkwardness in the few days following, but it was never an option for you to avoid Felix for long. The two of you still went on convenience store runs together; still met up for coffee before work; still continued your business as usual, against all odds. And you owed it all to Felix and how he knows you better than you know yourself. He didn’t try to talk to you when he sensed that you had nothing to say; nor did he try to bring you back when you felt miles away. He would just silently slip a pack of your favorite cookies into your grocery basket or order your drink on your behalf.

Felix had questions and wanted answers; there was no doubt about that. But he held his tongue, granted you as much space as you needed to come back to him. And you did, in your gradual, meticulous way.

You’re finally going to bring it up tonight. You’ve planned to since the day you confirmed the trip, and you hope that the final stop of the tour will be the perfect place to bite the bullet.

“We’re here,” Felix says.

The two of you have arrived at the bank of a wide river, and you’re at a temporary loss for words. To your right is a bridge that spans the distance of the water, and to your left is a stunning, panoramic view of the city of Sydney. Twilight has turned the buildings into dark silhouettes against the autumn sunset, and the water reminds you of a palette of oil paints with how it reflects the pinks and oranges in the sky.

Felix feels you tighten your hold around his arm, and he smiles when he sees the wonder in your eyes. He wishes he could see this place for the first time again.

“Not bad, huh?”

“No,” you murmur. “Not at all.”

“C’mon.”

Felix leads you to the center of the bridge, where he props his elbows atop the metal railing and looks over the water. You join him and pull out your phone, but no settings or adjustments render your camera capable of capturing the landscape's beauty.

(Until Felix throws up a peace sign and pokes his head into the corner of your frame. Then it stands a fighting chance.)

“What is this place?” You ask, your shoulder touching his when you also lean over the railing. “Why are we the only ones here?”

“Crazy, right?” Felix says proudly. “I dunno. I think it might be private property, or something. But it’s only a few blocks away from my house and on the way I used to take to school, so I used to come here all the time, always around this time of day.”

Felix’s gaze moves over the sky, oblivious to the fact that his eyes hold whole rainbows of their own.

“There was never anyone around, but I could still hear the birds chirping and the wind in the leaves. It felt like a corner of the world had been sealed off just for me. I’m glad to see that nothing’s changed.”

Some time passes, and Felix tells you more stories about this peculiar bridge: how he asked someone to formal and got rejected and came here to reflect on his actions; how he had to take two different buses every day because his school was so far away from his house, but he always stopped here to feed the families of mallards that came out to swim in the mornings, even if it meant he’d be late; how this was the last place he went to before moving to South Korea, because he knew he’d miss this nook of Sydney most.

Of all the places you've visited, you think this one will remain with you longest. As time elapses, the colors of the sunset augment and deepen, dyeing the world in ways that remind you of the aurora. And then there is the man, wearing a gentle smile to match his softened features, his voice to your ears what honey is to a sore throat, telling you about his past, letting you into yet another chamber of his soul.

You are in no way prepared to butcher the sanctity of this moment, but you know that you can only run for so long and so far. You owe it to him. You owe it to yourself.

When the sun’s final rays are clinging the faraway mountaintops, Felix lifts himself off the railing and stands up straight. “Ready to go home?"

And your hand finds his, the pads of your fingers cold against his skin. Felix is surprised at first, but then he sees the hint of sadness in your eyes and the tension in your shoulders, and he understands what’s coming.

“I want to talk to you about that night,” you say.

Felix doesn’t respond for a few seconds. But when he does, his voice is so soft and so infuriatingly kind that hearing it makes you want to sob.

“...you don’t have to, Y/N.”

“No. I do,” you return, startling even yourself with the firmness in your voice, "I don’t want to keep dancing around the topic, not when you’ve been waiting for as long as you have.”

You feel Felix’s gaze on your face, as if he’s trying to read between your lines, and then he yields with a slight incline of his head.

“Okay.” And the stage is yours.

You don't start talking right away, your mind reeling with the effort to organize everything you feel and verbalize everything you want to tell him. It isn’t until Felix gives your hand a gentle squeeze—you’ve forgotten that you’re still holding his—that you feel rooted in the moment again.

It’s Felix you’re talking to; your soulmate, your sunlight. Nothing you are about to say will ever change that. This, you believe with every fiber of your being.

So you take a deep breath.

“When you said those words,” you begin, and the words sound alien in your voice, despite how many times you’ve rehearsed this conversation in your head, “I couldn’t process a thing. I was so happy, but I was so, so scared. I’ve spent the last month trying to figure out why I was so scared, and I can’t say that I know for sure yet, but I have a much better idea now, and—it’s a lot of things.

“For as long as I can remember, I have only ever been able to love profoundly and deeply, with everything in me. And over time, I led myself to believe that nobody would ever be able to understand or reciprocate my love, not in the manner I want most.”

You feel yourself starting to waver, but you find strength in his touch.

“But you changed that, Felix. You walked into that café that afternoon with your voice and your smile, and suddenly I’d found you—someone who experiences life the way I do, who loves the way I love. And every day since, I’ve been surrounded by you and your effortless warmth and your beautiful soul. It was only a matter of time before I started hoping, constantly and stupidly, that you would one day love me, the same way that I—”

Your voice catches in your throat like a heel slamming into car brakes, “love you” hanging so dangerously from the tip of your tongue that you’re stunned it doesn’t fall out right away.

“But that’s why I’m fucking terrified,” you go on. “When you told me you loved me, I felt like I could fly. But I also felt like I was falling—and maybe this is because I was still tipsy, I'm not really sure—but in that moment I saw a world where we weren't there to catch each other, where something had gone horribly wrong and I'd wake up one morning and you’d—you’d just be a distant memory.

“And that was the thought that shook me so badly: losing you. Leaving you.” You’re crying now, tears paving golden trails against your cheeks. “For whatever reason, that was the first thing that came to mind, and it broke me.”

You need to wrap it up, and fast, if your faltering voice and racing heart are any indication.

“I meant it when I apologized to you that night. I’m sorry, Lix. I’m sorry I made everything so fucking complicated. I’m sorry that I ran away. I’m sorry that I hurt you, or worried you. But I want you to know that I feel more for you than you will ever understand; I just need a little more time to put it into words. So, wait for me—”

Your eyes squeeze shut, and you finally cave, your last word coming out in a shattered rasp.

“—please.”

And the syllable has barely left your mouth when Felix lets go of your hand, only to bring his arms around you and pull you to his chest with such urgency that the breath momentarily leaves your lungs.

When you fall against him, you fall entirely apart. You have no idea where all the feelings are coming from, only that they’re suddenly overwhelming your every sense. And you start to cry, really cry, your fingers seeking refuge in his jacket, in his hair.

The sun departs at last, and night starts to fall. You lose track of how long you remain in this position, shaking with hushed sobs, fighting to regain control of your emotions. But Felix stays with you through it all, muted tears of his own intermingling with yours in the material of his scarf. He holds you carefully yet fiercely, like you really will crumble if he lets go.

And he waits, because of course he does. He would wait lifetimes for you.

One. The way you thaw is like melting snow.

It happens under your nose for the most part, but it is slow, sure, and irreversible, and you open your eyes one morning only to realize that the world outside has changed—and so have you.

You roll over and pick up your phone. There are unread messages from Felix sitting in your notifications, probably confirming the plans you made to get coffee before work today, but you put them on hold for now. Instead, you open up your camera roll and find an album, labeled with a sun emoji and yellow heart.

You made this a few months after you met Felix, and you’ve doted on it since, in the sense that you update it almost every day. Funnily enough, though, you’ve never looked through the album just to look through it. Maybe because you’ve never had the time or felt the impulse, but more likely because you know that the album is a visual time capsule of your relationship with the most important person in your life—which has never been purely platonic for you, despite how hard you’ve tried to change your heart.

Looking through it would mean acknowledging your true emotions, something you’ve never felt ready for.

Now, you open the album without a second thought, a preemptive smile on your lips. And you find yourself swept out of your bed and thrown back inside each of the pictures you see, reliving the moments as vividly as if you’re watching them on film.

This is one of your favorites, taken during a late-night tteokbokki run to a small restaurant behind Felix's company building. Felix was laughing so hard at one of your stories that he could only take bites of his meal every five minutes. His face had broken into a dazzling grin, his figure blurring as he lurched forward in his seat, trying to pull his hood over his face in secondhand embarrassment. Snap. He is always handsome, extraordinarily so, but you think you love the way he looks here most of all: every guard of his lowered, carefree, happy.

Another is from the first time you met Chan. Nowadays, your interactions with the boys consist mostly of running into them at Felix's dorm and making friendly small talk. But it's always been different with the oldest member. The first time Felix introduced the two of you, you clicked straightaway, and you had to have spent four hours after dinner just talking, scouring the city for something cold to eat. By the end of the sweltering summer night, the three of you were perched atop a short stone barrier in a secluded corner of Seoul, right outside the best bingsu place in all of South Korea. Felix had leaned over to steal the last cube of mango from Chan’s bowl, to Chan's dramatic protest. Snap. And Chan is like a brother to you now; you will never be able to fathom how much light Felix has brought to your life, be it through him or the people he loves.

A computer screen displaying a League of Legends scoreboard, in which Felix has died more times than there were minutes of the game. Snap. You (not sober) in the center of Felix's living room, your body poised in what is supposed to be the chorus of “Queencard," Felix and Bin completely losing their shit on the couch. Snap. His head bowed in anguish over a bowl of brownie batter after he mistakes salt for sugar. Snap. A low-quality, tiny Felix on stage, the brightest grin on his face when he finally manages to spot you in the nosebleeds. Snap. Your dining table creaking under the weight of all the gifts he got you for your last birthday. Snap. Him and one of your best friends from home, arms around each other, peace signs thrown up, beaming. Snap.

There are countless more, and they are all so incredibly near and dear to you, all thanks to the freckled boy in each.

You respond to Felix's messages (“be there soon!”), and then move to get dressed. There is a new sense of certainty in your gait when you emerge from your building and into the quiet morning.

The weather is lovely, the fresh sunlight cream-colored against a cloudless sky, the light breeze shuffling the new leaves about. A hound’s ears twitch when you hurry past its home; it is too drowsy to investigate your presence further. The only sounds in the air are the chattering of sparrows in the branches above you and the soles of your shoes, moving quickly across the sidewalk. The wonder in the world is more palpable to you today than it’s ever been.

Soon, the chalk-written menu and hand-carved wooden sign of your favorite café come into view, and you open the door. There are only a few customers inside, and you spot your person right away: his long, dark hair partially pinned back, his figure flattered by a black long sleeve and jeans. He has a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, as well as two drinks on the table before him: one caramel latte and one black milk tea.

When he hears the door jingle, he looks up, and the smile that melts across his face is so fond that you can’t believe there was ever a time when you doubted his feelings for you.

The way his loving smile mirrors onto your face is as inevitable and involuntary as destiny herself.

“Hi,” Felix says, rising from his seat.

“Hey, you,” you answer. “Wanna take a walk?”

And so you do.

You link arms, as always; you try each other’s drinks, as always; you manage to talk about everything and nothing all at once, as always. But when his company building comes into view, your footsteps come to a halt, and your hand fastens around the cuff of his sleeve.

“Hey, Lix—"

When his eyes meet yours, the sun hits them just right, and you have not known anything as clearly and certainly as you do right then.

“—I love you.”

Felix can only stare, his eyes so wide that you can see the whites of them all around, his straw falling from his parted lips.

Then, a smile starts to creep across his face like spilt syrup.

“Say it again.”

“I love you, Lee Yongbok.”

He sets his bag and drink down on the pavement. “Again, please.”

“I love you,” you repeat, starting to laugh. “I love you, I love you, god, I love you, Felix, so fucking much—”

Felix brings his hands to either side of your face, leaning his forehead against your own. And this time, there is no hesitation, no fear—only starlight when he tilts your chin up and finally, finally presses his lips to yours.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, hordes of them flapping so fervently you feel as though you might take off into the air, but you seek out his elbows, then his shoulders, and then the back of his neck, anchoring yourself to the earth, to him. Felix kisses you like he will never be able to again, and it is all you can do to savor how the curve of his smile feels against your own; how he murmurs the words “I love you, too” in between breaths. He tastes like sugar and smells like shampoo. He feels like forever.

2K notes · View notes

writingsbychlo · 1 year

Text

UNDER THE MISTLETOE (day five)

summary; after getting caught up in a certain tradition, you and az face the outcome on the other side.

word count; 11,036

notes; kick your feet and giggle fluff. you've been warned.

You watched carefully as the wax before you melted, hands joined and propped under your chin, watching as glittery black beads slowly began to pale, swirls of silver sparkling throughout like the night sky. Sitting beside you, signing addresses onto all of the cards you’d spent the morning writing together.

The candle flickered, casting shadows across the room as the wax continued to soften, and Azriel pushed the final folded letter towards the pile you’d created.

“Staring at that wax awful hard, you got a lot on your mind?” You could only hum, turning to face him and watching the sparkle in his eyes as the flame flickered behind you. The truth was quite the opposite. There was nothing on your mind.

For what felt like the first time in a very, very long time, you were entirely at peace. No unmitigated anxieties or lingering problems, no stressful scenarios or job lists to be ticked off the following day. This morning, when you woke up once again tangled in Azriel’s arms, his face almost tucked into your neck, you were happy.

There had been a crumple from his pillow along his cheek that had lasted the entirety of your shared breakfast, his hair still messy even now, as a second hour passed and the unmade bedsheets had grown cold. You’d been waiting for an update on the storm situation, after dragging open the curtains only to find the glass entirely frosted over, stacked over halfway up with snow.

The fire had been burning steadily since, the logs crackling as the room was flooded with warmth.

“Wanna’ talk about it?” He raised a hand, brushing one knuckle over the back of your cheek, his brows dipping in confusion.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Az. I’m just happy.” A smile tugged at the edges of Azriel’s lips even if his brows dipped further. “I slept so well. I woke up, with no stress, no worries, just happy.”

“Shadowsinger, spymaster, dreamcatcher. It has quite a ring to it.” He murmured, your scoff breaking the quiet between you both, and it quickly descended into giggles.

“I was thinking it was more this vacation, thank you very much.” Turning back to inspect the wax, it was just short of two hot, your lips pursing to blow out a thin stream of air to extinguish the candle, as he let out a pained moan, clutching his heart.

“You mean it’s not my fantastic cuddling? I’m so offended.” Your eyes rolled, laying out a series of letters before yourself and scooping up the bowl, a small serving of molten wax dripping onto the paper before yourself. “Fine, since my services aren’t needed, I’ll sleep in my own bed tonight.”

“You do that. You snore anyway.” You passed the latter across to him, watching as he tugged free the ring from his thumb, a signet ring with his initial sitting firmly in the centre alongside the Night Court crest, a gift from Rhysand, so long ago. “Maybe now I’ll actually get some sleep.”

Stamping shut the first letter, he gasped, smothering his chuckle and accepting the second latter you sent his way, peeling the ring away carefully only to mark the next, a system forming between you both. “Oh, that’s how you want to play it?”

“I’m merely stating facts.” You both knew it was a lie, Azriel was as stealthy in his sleep as he was awake, snoozing so quietly beside you that you’d miss him in the dark, shrouded by his shadows for protection, if he wasn’t wrapped around you. He may be silent in his sleep, but he wasn’t still.

When he slept, you’d found Azriel would still hold you tight. If you moved, he moved, his body followed your own, seeking you out even subconsciously, keeping as much of you pressed to him as possible. Wandering hands, clinging touches, needy caresses.

Azriel, the feared shadowsinger, was a sleep cuddler.

“Alright. Well, maybe I’ll actually get some sleep, without all your twitching. Did you know you move around when you sleep, you’re a vivid dreamer.” He shot back, a smirk pulling at the edge of his lips.

“I know, I can’t help it, I have some pretty thrilling dreams about Cassian.” His jaw dropped, and you could see it out of the corner of your eye as you dripped wax onto the final letter, swirling it around into a perfect circle for him to stamp. As he took the letter, he snatched it with a huff, your victory only sitting stronger over him.

“Wait ‘til I tell Nesta.” His final comment was an unofficial surrender to the battle of wit, and he scowled at you as you glanced up, turning to face him in your chair.

“Who says Nesta’s not in those dreams too? Maybe I need two, I’m a lot to handle.”

“Don’t I know it.” His voice was low, so low you almost missed it, innuendo laced through his words that you didn't quite understand, but you weren’t given much time to contemplate it. A knock at the door broke you from your thoughts, the sound bouncing around the inside of the room, and excitement spiked within your chest.

The last knock had been merely to collect your breakfast dishes, a promise soon of an update on the weather conditions and your plans for the day, your feet flying cross the floor to receive it as Azriel followed closely behind. He all but crashed into your back as you paused at the door, swinging it open, to reveal Viv standing on the other side.

Pressing up behind you, Azriel’s heat flooded across your back, wings wrapping around you a little, and the woman glanced between you both, the smile on her lips only growing as she took you in. You felt underdressed somehow, even though she was in pyjamas just the same as your own, hair braided neatly over one shoulder, she still somehow managed to look regal, even in sweatpants.

“We’re snowed in.”

It was the exact news you’d been expecting, and yet as she truly confirmed it, your heart sank a little. The weather was always going to be unpredictable, at this time of year, in this Court especially, and yet with so little time here, you didn’t want to miss a single day. As if sensing your disappointment, Azriel ran his hand comfortingly down your spine, before settling it on your hip with a squeeze.

Vivianne wrung her hands together, but never dropped her smile, only letting it become more conspiratorial. “Kal and I were thinking it would be fun to have a game day. Very informal, we can stay in our pyjamas and make snacks. Most of the staff will be out of the palace helping to clear the roads and pathways to the town, the palace is quite low on the priority list for that. Are you feeling up to it?”

“Can we make hot chocolate?” Azriel’s deep voice echoed from above you, a chuckle spilling from Vivianne’s lips, and you turned to look at him, brows raising, and he only shrugged as he looked down at you. “Don’t act like you didn’t know I have a sweet tooth, sugar.”

A blush flared over your cheeks at the nickname, and you rolled your eyes to cover its effect, turning back to your friend instead. “You had me at snacks, and apparently, had Azriel at hot chocolate. We’re in.”

“Fantastic.” Her hands clapped together, excitement clear as day. “Shall we meet at the base of the stairs in a couple of minutes, then?”

You agreed, the door closing a second later, and as you backed away from it, your body pressed into Azriel’s, forcing him to back up with you. As your body came up to his own, the hand on your hip slipped all the way around your waist, tugging you in a spin as he turned towards the bed, your feet leaving the floor, and a giggle leaving your lips.

“Azriel! Put me down!”

Your toes nudged at the floor, scraping as you kicked, but he wasn’t letting go until he was throwing you down onto the bed, your body bouncing as he passed you by. You rolled across the still unmade sheets, scrabbling to get back at him, and he only grinned wickedly as he closed the door connecting your rooms in your face, holding the handle firmly against you on the other side.

“Hey! You brute!”

“That was for teasing me before Vivianne came to the door. You wanna’ talk about Cass, I’ll treat you like Cass would.” Your cheeks flushed with heat, palm slapping against the door, but there was no stopping the laughter that spilled from your lips. Cassian had never been shy about his manhandling, whether it be throwing you and Nesta around in training, lifting you out of his way in the Townhouse’s narrow corridors, or simply throwing you over his shoulder when you were too drunk to stumble home from Rita’s.

Backing away from the door and mumbling under your breath, his own muted laughter on the other side of the door faded away as you both prepared for the day. You straightened out your bedsheets from their crumpled positions, a hand smoothing across your oversized t-shirt on your way to the bathroom.

By the time you’d finished washing your face and combing your hair, you found Azriel lounging on your bed, lay across it on his stomach, tapping his fingers in boredom as he waited. He’d changed his pyjamas, a new pair of black sweatpants and a matching black t-shirt, which hugged his shoulders unfairly tightly and was almost strained around the thick biceps on display.

“I just made that bed.”

“Oh, because beds can never be remade. How much money you must be wasting buying new sheets every single day.” He mumbled, sliding down to the floor and tugging pathetically on one corner to smooth out the wrinkles, and you scoffed through a laugh as you made your way over to get a pair of fluffy socks from the drawer. You’d only brought a few pairs, not expecting to ever actually wear them outside of the bedroom, and you dug around for the best pair as Azriel shuffled over to join you. “Can I borrow a pair of those?”

You glanced down at his feet, noting the grey socks he already wore. “You’ve got socks on.”

“Yeah, but these look cosier.” He snatched out a pair of pale blue ones, with sparkly thread throughout, and you snatched them right back before he could get too attached. “Hey! Sharing is caring.”

“You’ll stretch them out with your big fuckin’ feet! You’re already ruining a perfectly good t-shirt with your shoulders.” He dropped a look down at himself, flexing his chest and arms unnecessarily.

“Thanks for noticing.”

“I was insulting you.” You spat back, tongue sticking out, and he only hummed.

“You have to be looking to have noticed anything to insult.” He tapped on the tip of your nose, and you turned away from him, hopping a little as you tugged each sock onto your feet, wiggling your toes and letting him balance you with a hand on each shoulder. When your feet were taken care of, you only had your arms to take care of now, not being gifted with the same resistance to the cold that Azriel was, and you swiped up a hoodie that was lying over the back of the couch.

It was in your hands for barely two full seconds, before he was pulling it away.

“That’s mine.”

“Wha- give it back! I’m cold.” He only shrugged, hanging it over his arm, and his eyes twinkled with unknown mischief as you spluttered. “You’re not even using it!”

“So? You’re not using the fluffy blue socks, and yet you won’t let me have those. If I must get frostbite, you get hypothermia.”

Your arms crossed over your chest, unwanting to give in, but you were stubborn. You’d set your heart on that jumper now, and when his cheeky smile grew, you were willing to give in just to stop it getting any wider. “Fine! You can wear the blue socks. I guess I’ll use them as a sleeping bag on my next mission away, when you’ve ruined them!”

He handed over the jumper with a beam, lifting it to your head and hanging it around your neck, before leaving you to do the arms as he retrieved the socks. After successfully shoving his feet into them and tucking them under the cuffs of his pants, he offered you his hand, wiggling his fingers at you and taking your palm.

Tugging you along and out of the room, Vivianne and Kallias were already gathered at the bottom of the steps when you reached them. Viv was chatting excitedly, while Kal simply watched his wife, tucking a stray strand of white hair behind her ear before cutting her rambling off with a sweet kiss.

Your heart clenched, and Azriel’s hand squeezed your own. Perhaps he felt the same way, the same happiness but sadness, the balance of adoration for your friends at finding one another, but longing for yourself. It would be nice to not feel so alone in those emotions.

Azriel rustled his wings, a subtle sound but loud enough to gain their attention, both of them pulling apart just to look up, smiling widely as they saw you. “Sorry, we got caught. Had to kiss, I’m afraid.”

Viv shrugged, and Kallias only chuckled, even as his pale cheeks grew pink, and you came to a stop before them, brows raising. “You got caught?”

“Under the mistletoe.” She said, like that cleared anything up, and she pointed over your heads, to the sparkly sprig of greenery hanging from the high archway.

“I hate to break it to you, but you have weeds growing in your house.” Azriel supplied, and you waved a hand idly in the direction of his body, a soft ‘oof’ leaving him as you smacked his solid stomach, and he nudged you with your linked arms in return. “That wasn’t there last night.”

“It’s magic mistletoe,” Kallias added, the confusion only growing more, and you gasped as you watched it disappear from over your heads, fading away in a puff of glittering white. “It moved around all over the palace, we have several set up. I’m surprised you haven’t seen any yet.”

“I warded their rooms,” Vivianne explained, taking her husband’s hand much the same way Azriel held your own, guiding you along halls you had yet to venture down, leaving you and your companion to follow after her in confusion.

“It's a tradition here in Winter.” Kal glanced over his shoulder, shrugging a little. “You hang mistletoe at Christmas, and if you get caught under it with someone, you have to kiss them.”

“But it’s just a poisonous plant?” Azriel spoke, and wanted to roll your eyes, swearing he wasn’t cut out for a life as a courtier, if it wasn’t for the pale-haired man’s laugh at his bluntness. Somehow, Azriel seemed to have won Kallias over, the two making for fast friends.

“I know.”

“So, why? What's the story there?” You pressed a little more, curiosity biting in deep, and as Vivianne threw open a set of double doors to an impressive, empty kitchen, she spun to you with a smile.

“How about I tell you all about it while we bake?”

She gathered pots and pans, various ingredients were produced which Kallias was quick to take from her hands, measuring the quantities himself and beginning to divide them up, as you gathered around the central island ready to hear the story.

“It all started with the goddess of love, and her favourite child. He was the god of light.”

“Doesn’t it always start with a god, or love, or both?” Azriel mused, brushing his lips over your hairline to hide his amusement, your cheeks flushing as Viv only watched him, a gentler smile pulling on her features as he left a kiss on your hair.

“She loved her son so much that she wanted to protect him against everything, so that he could never be harmed.” As Kallias handed her a bowl, and passed one to Azriel too, she began to tell you of the goddess, of the God of Sunlight’s adventures, his highs and lows that led him to need such protection.

She spun a fascinating tale, you were so caught up in it that you could barely stir your own mixture, tipping the chocolate chips into the batter when it was ready without ever taking your eyes from her.

“So, she spoke to every animal, and person, and plant. She made everything pledge to never harm him, to protect him at all costs, but she forgot pretty little mistletoe.” She tutted, your heart beating and hand stilling in the bowl as the true excitement of her folklore tale began. Azriel took the bowl, from you, pulling it closer to himself to keep the work going, and you only leaned closer to his side in silent thanks as you continued to listen.

“So mistletoe killed him because it was forgotten?”

“A trickster killed him.” She corrected, wagging a finger at you for your impatience. “One of the tricksters realised her mistake, and fashioned an arrow out of mistletoe. That arrow was shot straight into his heart, and he died.”

“But why did the trickster do it?”

“Why do tricksters do anything?” To cause chaos. The Night Court had much mythology of its own, regarding tricksters and demons and things that go ‘bump’ in the night, all revolving around making sure children behaved.

This story was shaping up to have a far more romantic notion.

She took a break there, leaving you to hang in suspense as the four of you worked to divide gather and shape up cookies, fling tray after tray in the oven until you had more snacks than you’d possibly be able to eat. She was loading pots into the sink for later, Kallias setting a timer on the ovens, and Azriel was leaning back against the counter.

Tugging you closer to him, his arms banded around your body as your back met his chest, his chin propping on the top of your head as he spoke; “So, how does any of that make a tradition about kissing?”

You let out a steady breath at his question, the cliffhanger you’d been left on finally coming to an end, and you settled your arms atop his as you leaned back into him, both eager to hear the rest of the story.

“The goddess was distraught, her favourite child had died. But she was a goddess of love, she did not seek revenge. Instead, she cried to the mistletoe, and her tears made white berries grow. When her son died, he took the sunlight with him, and so came the long days of Winter. He died at what you call Winter solstice, and what we call Christmas.”

Kallias joined the pair of you, slinging an arm around her waist. You felt like a child as she spoke of all the changes, of the way mistletoe began to grow, of the goddess seeking out every last shoot of it.

“She enchanted that too, to be the strongest love of all, that anybody caught underneath it should embrace one another in love, not anger or pain. Even enemies on the battlefield would put down their weapons and embrace, and call a truce for that day.”

“Cassian will be thrilled, we’ll buy him enough for a farm, and he can kiss all of our foes into submission.” Your joke brought laughter from them all, but the deep laughter by your ear was the one that left you breathless, a warm puff of air over your cheek. It terrified you, feeling so comfortable in his embrace, it made you want to run, and yet, it also made you want to stay. Hearing a tale of love, wrapped in his arms, leaving you breathless and your heart racing.

“After that, it became a symbol of love. New relationships would share their first kiss underneath it, for good luck. Married couples,” She gave a glance at her husband, who only placed his lips on her forehead in response, “kiss under it to maintain a happy marriage. Parents kiss their newborns to show them their love. It is tradition. You can never be angry under the mistletoe, and you must always show your love.”

“Perhaps we should take some home with us, let Elain grow it. It would make such a lovely addition to Solstice.”

Azriel only hummed in agreement, clearly contemplating it, and your reverie was broken by the first of the timers going off. The smell of sugar and baked goods filled the air as soon as the door was open, steam pouring out as Kallias’ gloved hand retrieved the first tray, perfectly baked cookies steaming on the metal sheet.

Together, the four of you worked, scooping up treats from trays to plates, icing and decorating as they cooled, hot chocolate being made, dishes washed, and the kitchen cleaned, until you were all ready to go for your game day.

You gathered the last of the gingerbread cookies, piling them up onto a plate with your poorly decorated chocolate chip cookies and some pastries, Kallias took the large platter from your hands. As you stared at it, it became more and more obvious why none of your career paths had veered towards baking. It was a sad attempt, but it was fun nonetheless, and as long as they were edible, you’d have fun.

Kallias led the way with the food, Viv following quickly after him as she attempted to snatch a cookie from the tray as he swept it out of her reach, the two bickering as they walked. Turning to your best friend, a laugh bubbled up in your throat when your gaze landed on him.

“What?”

“You’ve got icing on your face.”

He dipped his head, rubbing his cheek against his shoulder, utterly failing to get the smudge of blue icing from his skin. He rubbed again upon seeing your lips pinch to hide a smile, failing again, and your eyes rolled fondly.

Reaching up to him, your hand sat on his jaw, one thumb swiping over his skin to clear it away, the back of your pointer catching any last smears, and he smiled softly, letting you work. When you pulled your hand away, he had a tissue ready, wiping your finger clean and tossing the ball into the trash.

“Ready to kick some ass at board games?”

“Az, I was born for this.” Your serious look made him laugh, head tipping back, hand settling comfortably on your lower back as he began to guide you through the halls. The palace was huge, far too big for you to properly learn your way around after only five days, but this route was one you were beginning to know well. Following the joyous chatter of Kallias and Vivianne until the light of the sitting area was spilling out, you let their voices guide you, Azriel’s hand never leaving your back.

As you rounded the doorway, Vivianne held up her hands, eyes wide and arms extended, a yell on her lips that brought you crashing to a half, Azriel slamming into your back and both of you almost tumbling over.

“What?” You burst, eyes scanning the immediate area for danger, guard flying back up from where you’d let it slip over the last few days. When you found nothing, you looked back to her, but instead of finding fear, you saw the excitement on her face.

“Look up!” She beamed, your heart thudding nervously in your chest and your eyes slowly travelling up, head tipping back to examine the doorframe above you. Hanging there above your heads was a green sprig of mistletoe, one you know wasn’t there before, and both Kallias and Viv stared innocently with smiles on their faces. Viv’s was wider, Kallias’ was merely indulging, adoring of his wife, and you knew she was behind this.

Your heart gave another hard thud as you watched Azriel observe it from the corner of your eye. A soft laugh spilt from your lips as you turned to face him fully, his sweet smile setting a wave of reassurance spreading through your chest, and his brows raised a little. His shadows were beginning to swirl up a little higher, over his shoulders and around his head, a tell that he was nervous, and he gave a small shrug.

“S’okay. It’s just a tradition, right?” Your heart ached a little in your chest at the tone of his voice, something self-loathing and worried in there, just loud enough for you to make out, private from your audience. You refused to believe that after these nights of cuddling, these near-miss moments and the feeling of waking up in his arms, that Azriel didn’t know how you felt. The inkling of doubt in your chest was quickly quashed when you made your decision.

Stepping closer, close enough to throw your arms around his neck and pull yourself up to a more even height, Azriel’s hands steadied you at your waist as his eyes widened a fraction, lips parting in shock.

“It’s not just for the tradition, Az.” You whispered, before pressing your lips against his own, anxiety thrumming through your body like electric currents, fear taking over every nerve. His hands on your hips tightened, frozen still for just a second, before he was melting against you. Tugging you closer, his hands smoothed around to your lower back instead, a low sound leaving him, muffled between your mouths as he returned your fragile kiss.

His lips were soft, so much softer than you’d expected, giving and taking as his nose bumped clumsily against your own, learning something entirely new between yourselves. He caught on quickly, though, pulling back barely an inch to take a breath, before twisting his head to the side, and letting his lips find your own once again. Rocking you back to lean over you, your feet sunk to the floor comfortably.

As the nervousness died away, a smile formed on your lips, despite their current occupation with his own. Filled with burning love and utter devotion, your heart gave one final, steady beat, before something jolted, snapping like an anchor to the ocean floor or a rock through ice, grounding you to the moment with such force that you pulled back with a gasp.

Emotions that weren’t your own came flooding in, a mirror image of something else, and when your gaze fluttered up to Azriel’s, he only smiled, brushing his thumb over your face, and staring at you like you’d hung the very moon in the sky.

You knew what that feeling was, you’d waited all your life for it, and apparently, it was no shock to Azriel as he pushed another wave of affection down it towards you. Flicking a glance over to Viv and Kal, Azriel seemed to take the hint, the smile never leaving his face as he let you go. To be discussed later, when you were alone. This was not a moment for anyone else.

With a final kiss left on your cheek, he stepped back, your cheeks burned hot, shock and surprise now all you could feel, and everything else felt numb. Everything except for where Azriel laced his fingers with your own, much more competent and stable as he tugged you along and into the living room, to the set up of board games and snacks.

Sinking down onto the floor on one side of the large coffee table, cushions had been laid out, and Azriel took a seta net to you, wings comfortably spreading out across the floor behind him as Vivianne and Kal sat down opposite you. Pulling out the first board game, your hostess jumped into an explanation of it, but your mind was still spinning, utterly disconnected from the moment and in shock as you tried to put it aside.

Mate.

It was like the word was bouncing around the inside of your skull, every heartbeat sending another echo of it to follow. A bloom of amusement inside your chest, a follow emotion that felt like smoke you could wave your hand through, not tangible like your own, and you’d have to get used to the feeling of… him.

His hand reached out, settling over your thigh and squeezing in gentle comfort, never taking his eyes off of Vivianne as she laid out all the pieces and explained the rules. Staring down at the large, scarred limb sitting so comfortably on your leg, nothing about it felt wrong. Azriel had always been affectionate with you, but openly showing a new level of intimacy, you’d have expected at least some level of weirdness, a period of adjustment.

But nothing.

Reaching out carefully, you traced a finger over the back of his knuckles, before slipping the hand down and underneath his own, his fingers widening to link with yours. When your hands were laced together fully, he did turn to look at you, raising your hand to his face and pressing a kiss to the back of it, another one to your temple, before turning his attention back to the game.

It was so simple, so settled, so right.

Your mind, at last, went silent, because it was like the final puzzle piece had fallen into place, and at last, you could see the whole picture.

Azriel had opted to take a shower as you’d come back to the room, leaving you alone to your thoughts for the first time since your kiss, and they were drowning you. If you paced anymore, you were sure you were going to burn a hole right through the floor and fall throughout the palace.

There was obviously a conversation to be had, there was a bond sitting between your chests, one you were trying very hard not to let be tainted with your anxieties, and yet Azriel’s side was suspiciously quiet. You’d expected more from him, if he truly did already know about the bond between you both, and he was as happy as you believed him to be based on his actions, then why was it so silent?

Finally coming to a stop in front of the fireplace, you stared into the flames, listening to the logs crackle and pop as they burned, trying not to let your worries and insecurities build up once again. Time slipped away from you, the room around you melted into nothing, everything becoming a blur as you got lost in your head, only snapping back into focus at the soft clearing of a throat behind you for attention.

Leaning on the doorway connecting your two rooms was Azriel - your mate, it seemed - his arms crossed over his chest and eyes raised. His hair was still damp, curling a little at the tips that needed trimming, his shadows swirling despite his calm demeanour, mirroring the worry you felt inside visibly.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded far too quickly, a high-pitched hum leaving you, and instead of pacing, your hands now began to fidget in front of your body. He fixed you with a look, one that suggested he didn’t believe you even slightly, and he’d have been able to tell that even without the bond connecting you both. Holding out his hands at hip height and waving his fingers, he silently beckoned you forwards, as if to prompt you. ‘Come here and prove it’, the action said.

Like a magnet, you were drawn towards him, stumbling across the room until his hands were on you once again, a sigh slipping from your lips as he tugged you into his body. The shadows over his head began to clear, until only a couple remained, hanging in thin air near the doorframe in the shape of mistletoe branches and leaves, and despite all your raging emotions, a smile was pulled from you at the notion.

You were blasting all kinds of nerves, the bond between your bodies all but vibrating as you looked back to him, pink cheeks and a sweet smile, waiting for your response. A wave of comfort came to you, enveloping all that sickening fear and replacing it with adoring warmth, only confirming that he did know it was there, connecting both of your hearts.

A small, breathless laugh left you at the feeling. You’d have to get used to that. With the sound, he sent another pulse of love, one so deep and unending your knees almost went weak, almost letting you tumble to the ground. Perhaps this was why you’d felt nothing from him, why nothing felt any different.

This wasn’t new, you’d always felt a connection to Azriel that you couldn't explain, but never in your wildest dreams would you have thought you’d be lucky enough to be his mate. Instead of a sudden snap, or a surprise click, this had been a slow-forming thing, burning hot and bright within you both since the day you’d met, and building up one thread at a time. Unnoticeable as it grew, until it was too strong to ever be broken.

You’d always been able to read him so well, and he’d known you like he could read your mind. Turns out, it was your heart he could read instead.

Wrapping your arms around his neck once again, he hauled you up against him, supporting your weight as he lifted you onto the tips of your toes, and met you halfway to the kiss.

Just like before, it was shy and tentative, a new step in your relationship that had to be learnt, and you took it slow. Your mouth moved cautiously against his own, memorising every drag, every feeling of his soft sighs and the sweet sounds he made. It was intoxicating to be so close to him, to indulge in something you’d only ever dreamed of, and for it to feel so normal.

Like you were always meant to be right here, your lips moulded to Azriel’s and hearts beating as one. Nothing had ever compared to this, and nothing ever would.

Nervous kisses melted away into curiosity. What had once been delicate, his hands sitting steady on your waist, soft presses of his mouth to your own, smiles and bumps as you twisted and learned became smoother. His fingers danced up your spine now to cup the back of your head, your fingers lacing into his hair, and he held you where he wanted you, each kiss getting longer, deeper, lips parting further as you grew bolder.

Scratching your nails lightly over his scalp, Azriel gave a soft moan, the sound making your head spin and lips part. Given the chance, he sucked your lower lip gently, until you were so dizzy with the feeling that he was all that was holding you up. Twisting you around, your back pressed into the doorframe as he towered over you, one, ragged breath taken before his lips were crashing back down into your own, and it was your turn to moan.

His tongue slipped between your parted lips, stroking slowly over your own, sensual in a way that made you breathless, letting him suck the air from your very lungs as you tasted him for the first time. It was addictive, the feel of him on you, the taste of him in your mouth, something you never wanted to forget, and never wanted to let go.

His body was firm against your own, heart beginning to beat faster and faster once again in response to your own as something much fierier began to unfurl in your chest, flames burning hotter and higher together. Dragging his mouth from your own, you were left panting, his lips glistening and eyes dark as he pulled back to take you in, staring as though he’d never seen anything like you before.

You couldn't take it, the intensity of his love, of his passion, it was too much, and if you were going to have any self-control at all, you had to act. You pulled him back down, until your lips could brush across his lips again in a kiss only designed to be a peck. By the time he was reciprocating, you were moving on, a kiss to his cheek, to his jaw, to his chin, anywhere you could reach, until the heat died down, and a laugh left his lips when you blew air over the ticklish spot below his ear.

“So, that’s new.” You whisper, placing a kiss on that spot before sinking back down, letting him keep you crowded into the frame, but with your foreheads resting together, eyes closed.

“Only physically.” He mumbled back, hand sliding away from your hair and down your arm, to link your fingers together instead. “I’ve been kissing you in my dreams for a long time now.”

“That was so cheesy.”

“Get used to it.” His laughter was laced into his tone, and your eyes rolled behind closed lids, but the smile never faded. “You’re the best gift I could have ever asked for.”

At that, your eyes snapped open, the excited gasp on your lips making him follow suit, pulling back to stare curiously. “I got you some really good gifts under the tree. I mean, maybe not as good as a mating bond, but, pretty good.”

Your heart clenched in your chest at the look on his face, slipping out from under him and tugging him by your connected hands toward the couches, to which he happily followed. As you gathered the gifts, he winnowed out, returning minutes later with hot chocolates and a bag in hand, and making his way back over to your side. Sinking onto the carpet in front of the fireplace instead, you left him with a single, deep kiss in thanks, before retrieving the mug from his hands, and blowing carefully at the steam.

Marshmallows bobbed across the surface as he took a seat before you, tucked underneath one wing and pressing up to your side. Placing the bag into your lap, you found the remnants of today’s gingerbread cookies, the ones that had been your absolute favourite all day. Your head snapped up, lips parting to ask how he knew, before feeling the tug in your chest at the bond, and your lips closed once again, your answer found.

As he sipped at his hot chocolate, you paced your own to the side, taking his cheeks in your hands and pulling him close enough to leave a kiss on his lips, his eyes sparkling when you pulled back.

“What was that for?”

“Just for being you.” For being mine, you added mentally, and warmth rose to his cheeks, painting them a pretty pink in response. Dragging the two stockings across the carpet toward you first, you placed one into his lap, and he discarded his own hot chocolate to take it, watching you do the same. “Open the small ones first.”

He tipped it upside down, sending several small packages tumbling out across the floor, and he lined them up neatly, before picking up the smallest first. Slipping his thumb underneath the wrapping, you watched excitedly as he opened it up, a small box tumbling out. Picking it up, he turned to face you with a smirk, running his thumb over the velvet of it. “A ring box? Baby, it’s been hours since you gave me our first kiss, little soon, no?”

“Oh, shut up.” You blushed, slapping at his arm as he laughed. “I didn’t know when I bought this. Besides, wrong finger.”

Opening it up, sterling silver shone up and caught the light, showing off the engravings inside of snowflakes and Winter Court symbols, as well as the dates of your trip carved onto the inside. Lifting it out, he admired it for a second, before slipping it down onto an unoccupied pinkie, and holding it up to see. “How’d you get it so perfect on the sizing?”

“Sometimes I steal your pinkie ones to wear on my thumbs, so I knew one of mine would fit in reverse.” his gaze moved from his finger to you, lips rolling together to conceal a smile, and just before his mouth opened, the feeling racing down the bond warned you of the kind of comment that was coming.

“If you wanted me to give you a ring, you shoulda’ just asked.”

“Yes, every girl’s dream is to ask for a proposal.” You scoffed, leaning away from him only to be met with the resistance of his wing, snapping against your back to send you tumbling back into his side.

“Fine. When the time comes, I’ll surprise you with it, then. Catch you off-guard. But don’t complain now if your engagement memories are all of you in sweatpants or pyjamas. Or better yet, nothing at all.” Licking over his lower lip, he winked, and you groaned, burying your head in your hands, only to enhance his amusement. He reached across you, plucking up one of the gifts from inside your stocking, and balancing it on your knees, before tugging your hands away. “C’mon, you open this one.”

It was in different wrapping paper to all the rest as you scooped it up, and he scratched the back of his neck, smile dimming from amused to shy. “I got you this back home, I was planning to give it to you here anyway.”

You offered a silent oh. Turning back to the small package and tearing it open gently, and allowing a small, woven strand to fall out. About the length of your hand, woven together were blue, silver and black threads, a gem sitting in the middle that was awfully similar to one of Azriel’s siphons, a few silver charms laced throughout it. Tracing your thumb over them, you identified each one.

A dagger, a heart, a crescent moon, a star, and a wing.

“What is it?” You were breathless as you admired it, a perfect representation of Azriel, and he took it from your hands carefully.

“It's… a bracelet. Gwyn likes to make them. I saw her wearing one at training one day and she told me about them. I made it for you. You’re all I ever think about, so, maybe it was selfish, but I wanted you to have something that made you think of me. I wanted you to have something that would make me come to mind when you saw it. You don’t have to wear it, but-”

“What are you talking about?” Thrusting your arm out before him, a sense of relief filled you inside, and his face softened to match the emotion. “Put it on me right now, and when we get home, I’ll have it enchanted to last. I don’t want to take it off, ever.”

“Well, that’s just a little dramatic.” He teased, but did as you said, latching it carefully onto your wrist and tying it tight so it wouldn't slip off by mistake. “You really like it?”

“Like it? Azriel, I love it.” You traced your finger carefully over the woven strands, the silver one showing a little glitter as you examined it even closer, and your cheeks started to hurt from how much smiling you were doing. “For the record, though, you don’t need to give me any gifts or jewellery to be on my mind. You’re living there rent-free already.”

He didn’t reply, turning away to hide the look on his face by selecting another gift instead.

On and on you went, exchanging gifts and stealing kisses between them, moving through the piles as you opened everything you’d found for one another since arriving.

You gave him some mystery books, a couple of new notepads and pens, and some various creams and potions. Also on his pile were the enchanted gloves, designed to keep his hands warm, a new dagger sheath with his initials printed in, and a first-aid kit that could fold up small and fit into his bags for missions. Lastly, were a few fidget toys you’d found, his shadows being the true recipients for those, and they were already busily occupying themselves with their new toys, leaving their master to a little peace and quiet.

That particular gift has been such a hit that Azriel had practically dived atop you, his lips meeting your own as your back met the carpet, giggles swallowed by his mouth as he kissed you passionately enough to convey his thanks.

His gifts for you included some romance books that he said came highly recommended, accompanying the statement with a smirk. Also in your pile was a new, handmade scarf, with bright colours and soft fabric that you couldn't wait to wear. A bookmark, a couple of candles, and a pair of earrings designed to look like the falling petals of your favourite flower.

He’d received equally passionate kisses for each of those, time melting away around you each time you fell into him. By the time you were finished, you were surrounded by piles of gifts, and bundles of discarded wrapping paper. Empty mugs, an abandoned bag of crumbs as you’d finished the cookies between you, the fire dying down to embers, sorely in need of new logs but utterly neglected as you’d kept one another warm all evening instead.

“Should we tidy up a little?”

“‘Suppose so.” The words were mumbled into your hair as Azriel continued to nuzzle there, holding you curled against his chest as you laughed. Pushing yourself up onto legs that had gone numb long ago, he groaned, holding out his hands to you and letting you tug all that heavy Illyrian muscle to its feet, before stretching out and shaking his wings into action. “I’ll put the gifts away in our cases if you handle the other stuff?”

“Sounds like a deal.” You dropped down, scooping up the bundles of wrapping paper into your arms, crunching them tightly into balls as Azriel gathered up all of your gifts first, carrying them over to the bed and pulling out the case you’d stashed underneath. They took up half the space just as you watched him begin to stack things inside, a problem considering you had the rest of your belongings still to go back in there in a few days, but you’d have to figure it out. Maybe he had spare room in his.

You eyed the pile of gifts you’d given him. Probably no spare room there, either.

Tossing the bundles of paper into the fireplace, the flames rapidly began to grow back to life, and you poked in the ashes to revive a little more heat, adding a few more logs and some coals to make it through the night. Gathering his gifts, he took them away to his room, leaving to clear up the mugs and wrappers, and drag the coffee table back into place.

Just like that, the last few hours had all been cleared away, your room restored to its satisfying tidiness. You sensed Azriel before you saw him, every cell in your body reacting as he walked back into the room, making his way over to you, and letting you turn to face him just as he reached for you.

Falling into his touch felt like home, his arms banding around your body as you cupped his face, smiling up at him as you took him all in. “Wow,” Running your fingers over his cheekbones, you shook your head in disbelief. “Wow, you’re mine?”

Silver lined his wide eyes, and he sucked gently on his lower lip as he nodded. “And you’re mine, my love.”

Your heart skipped several beats at the new pet-name, and you hoped you never heard yourself be referred to anything else from him ever again, because Azriel’s love was all you ever wanted to be known as now.

It was agonisingly slow, the pull and take, the give of his lips as they moulded to your own, bodies pressing further and hands grabbing, until the place where you ended and he began became blurred. Your hands were in his hair, familiarising yourself with the softness of the stands, the way he’d hum against your lips when you tugged on the strands, the way his hands would tighten on your hips.

Teasing his tongue along the seam of your lips, you parted them, waiting for more, but he chose that moment to tease. Instead of diving further, he pulled back, lips grazing along your jaw as he dipped you backwards, head hanging on your shoulders as he kissed his way to your neck.

“Az…” The words were breathy on your lips, his answering groan reverberating along your skin, sucking some of the skin between his lips until it stung and you gasped, his tongue soothing over the patch a second later. “Azriel…”

“Don’t say my name like that, it’s driving me crazy.” Tugging your hips flush to his own, your whimper was barely contained by his mouth sealing back over your own. More urgent now, he took that opening, tongue plunging into your mouth and coaxing your own to play, hot and frenzied as he took control. Another moan slipped through, one that had his hips jerking against your own as he gave a soft grunt in response.

“You taste like peppermint, Az.”

“You taste like gingerbread.” He returned, biting lightly on your lower lip in response, and your mind swirled in response to the teasing nip. “I think it just became my new favourite treat.”

Sliding your hands down from his hair to his chest, you pressed lightly, pushing him backwards. He stumbled away, eyes snapping wide and hands leaving your body, fear of crossing a line, and you smirked at his misunderstanding. Backing him up, you followed his steps, until his legs were pressing to the edge of your bed, and he was falling back to sit. His confusion became a grin as you crawled into his lap, a leg caging either side of his hips, and his large, calloused hands slid up your thighs slowly.

Your lips slammed back into his own, Azriel’s moan in your mouth tasted like honey on your tongue as you reunited once again. It was preposterous, to think you’d known Azriel for so long and hadn't been doing this the whole time, to think that you hadn't spent every moment of every day kissing him. The bond between your bodies was pulling taut, shaking with glee and glowing so bright it could light up the night sky.

You could feel it within you, all but singing with anticipation, and you rocked your hips into his own. That one, small movement had you both falling apart, wanton spills of needy sounds leaving you as you repeated it, again and again, riding him through layers of clothes as your kisses grew messier. His hands took over, slipping over your hips to sit on your ass and squeeze roughly, rocking you down against him perfectly until your eyes were rolling in your head, the perfect friction pressing into you.

Your hands skated around his body, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his lungs under your hands, until your fingers were running down the seam of buttons under one wing on his back.

“Fuck, Az…” Your whimper only made him growl, picking up his intensity, biceps flexing through the sleeves of his t-shirt as he used you like a toy against his body. Your foreheads were pressed together, lips barely brushing with every pant for breath and your gaze moved down to watch the place that you were rocking together as your fingers fumbled with the catches.

Your panties were sodden now, likely dripping through, and you were sure that you were starting to spot a wet patch growing on his sweats from your movements as you undid the seals behind his back. As soon as they came loose, you were pulling back, motions stopping for a torturous moment as you tugged his t-shirt up and over his head now that they were free of his wings, having to raise on your knees to get it off his arms.

As soon as it was free, you were tossing it away, his hands returning to your body and he slammed you back down against his clothed erection, a cry spilling from your lips at the act.

“Oh, gods, you feel so good already.” His head fell forwards, forehead sitting on your shoulder, teeth grazing the skin as he bit down to hide his desperate sounds. Your fingers traced over his shoulders, tattoos you’d seen a thousand times before but you’d never had an excuse to touch. So many promises, so many bargains, you wondered how many of them belonged to you.

Over the centuries, Azriel had made many promises to you, and as if reading your mind, his head lifted. Taking your hand, he dragged your touch down from his shoulder to sit over his heart, various swirling patterns that would blend into the rest at a distance, and your fingertips twitched over his skin.

“Your promises sit right here, every mark you’ve ever left on me has been on my heart, inside and out.”

“Oh, Azriel.” His hand sealed over the top of yours, your rocking slowing to a stop as your other hand cupped his face, breaking through the heavy lust for a breath of fresh air. He leaned up, nose bumping your own, smiles that made it impossible to kiss as you shared the same breath. “I can’t believe it.”

“You never even suspected it?”

“I never considered myself your equal, it didn’t seem possible.” Your power was nothing compared to his, your skill and stealth the same, and he gave an empty laugh, stealing a kiss from your lips despite it.

“You’re worth so much more than I am.”

“That’s not what I meant.” You scoffed, peppering his cheeks with kisses to banish his self-deprecating thoughts, and you felt the stretch beneath your lips, a tell of a smile. Sitting back you tugged your shirt up and over your head, breasts spilling free before his eyes, and he licked his lips, fighting to keep his gaze on yours. “You can look, Az. I’m yours to look at.”

“If I look, I’m going to lose every last shred of self-control I have.”

“So lose control.” Your smirk was back, leaning in to brush your lips together and taking his hand from his own heart, bringing it to sit in the centre of your chest above your own. “Every beat is for you, Azriel. I never let myself think about it, because it would have crushed me to know I wasn’t yours. I was preparing myself for the eventuality that one day you’d find them. Someone incredible, someone who is your equal, in power and skill and every way that matters.”

“You may not be as strong as I am.” He mumbled, standing from the bed with you in his arms, like you weighed nothing at all as he kept your legs tight to his waist and twisted you to the bed. “But that is because you’re not Illyrian.”

He crawled up and over you, balancing his weight on his knees and palms as he caged you in. Reaching over his shoulders, you dragged one finger along the ridges of his wings, watching his face screw up and jaw drop open as you toyed with his most Illyrian trait.

“You may not have as much stealth as I do, but that is only because you don’t control the shadows to hide in.”

You never noticed the shadows snaking up your legs, the dark tendrils helping him to lift your hips, and he eased your leggings and panties down your legs, your thighs clamping shut with a sudden wave of anxiety as he dropped the material to the ground, leaving you bare before him, tracing his hands up your calves again.

“You may not have my power,” His hands closed over your knees, forcing your legs back apart for him to settle between, and a flush of heat left a blush over your body at his strength. “But that is because your skills lay elsewhere, my love.”

“Oh, yeah?” There wasn’t nearly as much sass as you intended, and he only nodded, dipping down to leave kisses on your inner thighs, groaning the closer he got to your dripping centre.

“Yes, darling.” Circling one finger at your entrance, your head fell back, a cry of his name as he sank that finger deep into you, biting down on the inside of your thigh as he slid into you easily. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

“A result of another of your skills.” You huffed out, back arching as he crooked his finger, teasing you for your comment and pumping that lone digit.

“You are sweet, and friendly, and the best courtier I’ve ever seen.” He picked up speed, your fingers clenching in the sheets, dragging at them as you clawed for strength, for anything to hold onto. “I may have brute strength in a physical fight, but I have never seen anybody win an argument like you, to win a battle of wit.”

“So, I’m the best at being bitchy? Gee, tha- ahh! Azriel!” Your sarcasm was cut short by one finger becoming two, a slam into you as your eyes rolled back, and he chuckled at the pathetic serious of whimpers you let out when he began to stretch you out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

“You’re also the best at winding me up, nobody gets under my skin quite like you do.” Your body was trembling, teetering on the brink of ecstasy as his fingers continued to seek out and abuse the spot inside of you that made you cry out. “But despite those shining qualities, they are not my favourites. Your heart is equal to mine; you love fiercely, you care deeply, you are loyal and kind and true. You are brave and strong of spirit, and you never give up.”

Slipping his thumb up to your clit, your back arched clean off the bed, a few sloppy circles had your mind shattering as you exploded into bliss. His voice soothing you through it, deep and raspy as he watched you unfold, a spike of arousal in your chest from him as he watched you crest.

“Most of all, my love,” He pulled his fingers out, your legs still shaking in the aftermath as he began to kiss up your body, letting your thighs tremble on either side of his hips as his lips found yours again. “Your power, is over me. I am entirely at your mercy.”

“Kiss me.” You begged, shaky hands coming up to grip his cheeks, and he nodded.

“With pleasure.” His lips worshipped yours the way his words had worshipped your mind, the way his hands worshipped your body, and your grip skated down to push at the last clothing on his body. Shoving at them, you whined at the effort, sitting up and letting your chest press to his own until you could get them down, his cock springing free, slapping between your wet folds and nudging your swollen clit. “Are you s-”

“Don’t ask me that. Don’t ask me if I'm sure, when thinking about this, thinking about you and me has been my guilty pleasure for decades.” Wrapping your fingers around him, he offered a shaky moan, hips rolling with your movements as you dragged his cock through your wetness, gathering your arousal onto his tip, before lining him up.

“Not just for the bond, then?” He questioned, laying back into the sheets, one hand at a time raising above your head as he pinned them there, stretching your chest out before his face. Shadows swirled at your wrists, holding them in place for himself, a couple more tugging your ankles apart, rendering you utterly at Azriel’s mercy.

“Not just for the bond, Az. For you.”

He nudged inside, sinking slowly into you, inch by inch until you felt like you were going crazy, needy for every inch of him to fill you up, for that bond to reach its strongest yet as your bodies connected wholly. When his hips finally sat snugly against your own, you were babbling his name senseless, and he was panting shallow breaths through his teeth to hold himself steady. “Gods, you feel like heaven.”

Azriel pulled back, a single thrust that had both of you calling out, your hands gripping him, legs tight around him, and he did it again. Building up steadily in pace, he rolled his hips into your one, hard and deep, your body firing in response like nothing you’d ever felt. With every slam of his hips into yours, every whisper of praise in your ear, you reached higher and higher, feeling like you were leaving your body behind.

His name was a whine on your lips, your hands struggling over your head, fighting against his bonds, and they gave little. His head dipped down, marking every spot on your skin with his kisses, until he was tugging one of your nipples between his teeth, and tears line your eyes at the spark along your spine that resulted.

This wasn’t just fucking, this wasn’t just making love. This was two souls bonding, finding one another and trying together so fully that you’d never be apart again.

“Please, please, Az. Let me touch you too.”

You found the strength to lift up, to meet his lips as his head raised to yours, a sloppy kiss slamming in the middle of you as his speed picked up. Every part of you honed in on the connection of your hips, the shudder that shot up your body each time, enough to send you flying up the bed if it wasn’t for his hold keeping you in place. You couldn't help the thought flickering through your mind, thanking the Mother and the Cauldron and everything else that the man you’d be tied to for the rest of your life was fucking phenomenal in bed.

“I want to hold my mate.”

He groaned out, body weakening at the word that fell from your tongue, and the shadows slipped away only a second later. As soon as you’d regained use of your hands, you were doing just that, surging out to hold onto him. One hand looped around his neck, holding him tight as your heads sat together, eyes held in an endless gaze, and he slowed his movements, bringing you back down to earth as your body wound up tighter. “I’ve dreamed about this moment for so long.”

“Is it everything you hoped it would be?” You teased, running a hand down his sweat-slicked arm, and he caught it, lacing your fingers together and pressing it back into the bed. The frantic swirling of his shadows began to calm, a frenzy becoming a sensual dance as his thrusts became nothing more than slow rocks into you, your hips working together in harmony.

“You’re so much more than I could have ever dreamed up.” Your chest filled with emotions, clashing between your hearts along that newly formed bond, and you squeezed at your connected hands.

Raising your other hand over his shoulder, you didn’t take it gently this time, swiping your palm along the inside of a flared wing, and he roared. A sound that wracked through your body, his hips growing fast once again, violent thrusts the longer your hand remained, his control fraying as you brushed the right spots. You’d touched his wings before, all the places that caused no sensitivity and arousal, this time aiming for every place you’d never dared reach for.

Moving inwards, toward the base of his wings, your touch grew firmer, rubbing your thumb along the place where his wings met his muscled back on the inside, and a broken sob left his lips as his arms gave way. The full weight of him collapsed down atop you, hips grinding, your own orgasm teetering on the edge. “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop…”

As your peak crashed into your full force, his name was a shout on your lips as you came undone, your palm pressed into the thick leather of his wings. Twitching fingertips, your nails scraped, and with a sound like you’d never heard him make before, Azriel followed you over the cliff.

His body shook, warmth erupting inside of you, leaking out around your connected bodies as you tried to rock up into him, meeting him thrust for weak thrust until the stimulation was all too much. He pulled his cock from you with a trembling breath, barely pulling away enough to release him before he was collapsing back down on top of you.

It hadn't been the wildest of sex, nor had it been the best it would be, you knew that by the feelings in your chest he sent across. No, this was different. This was needy and frantic and overwhelming because it was new. It was a boundary being crossed, it was lives being changed, it was the future finally falling into place.

Just one day ago, this time last night, he has nothing more than your best friend. As you’d curled into him to fall asleep one day ago, it had been with no idea what his lips tasted like, or what it felt like to connect to him so completely.

His arms banded around your waist, soft kisses to accompany the thoughts you must have been blasting out as clearly as screaming them aloud, and he settled his head on your chest after leaving a final kiss on your lips. You let your arms circle him too, a kiss on the top of his head that made him smile against your skin.

You both agreed, as you fell asleep once again tangled in each other’s arms, that nothing would ever be the same.

#under the mistletoe #UTMi #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #azriel x you #azriel/you #acotar x reader #acotar/reader #acotar x you #acotar/you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #a court of thorns and roses #acotar

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kimbappykidding · 6 months

Text

Imagine overhearing your crush, Jongho, getting rudely shut down by a mean idol and deciding to do something about it.

You thought there was nothing worse in the world than watching your crush ask out another girl but you were wrong.

You'd known Jongho had a crush on Maisie even since he checked her out at an award show and the boys never let him forget it. So when you saw him heading towards her you knew what was going to happen and even though you were sad because he was asking out another girl he was your best friend so you just wanted him to be happy. You were stood on a platform near the girl and so you could hear the whole conversation. You went to move away until you heard her reply and it made you very angry indeed. "I'm sorry I'm just way too pretty for you" Maisie said and your jaw dropped. It's fine for a girl to say no to a guy but there's no reason to be rude about it. Sure if Jongho had been harassing her you'd be praising her for telling him how it is but he'd been nothing but respectful and nice to her. There was no reason for her to hurt him like this. "She did not just say that" you said and your fellow Dreamcatcher member Yoohyeon looked at you "what did she say?" but you shushed her because the conversation was carrying on. Jongho must've also been confused because she was now being even ruder. "Look I only date guys who are at least as good-looking as me and you're not so later" and she walked away. You saw she was actually smiling and felt anger surge through you "I'm going after her" you said but your members, who finally realised what was happening, knew in your current state that probably wasn't a good idea. "Y/n just wait a minute" Dami said and JiU nodded "yeah just take a moment to calm down" when Siyeon grabbed your arm "Y/n you have bigger issues, Jongho". You looked over to where he'd been and froze to see him making a beeline for the door clearly upset and rattled. "Shit" you swore "text Hongjoong and tell him I'll make sure Jongho gets home okay" and you rushed after him.

You found Jongho outside just sitting on the curb staring into space. "Jongho" you called and he looked up but didn't meet your eye. "Hey Y/n I just wanted some air" he said flatly and you nodded coming to sit beside him "okay". You'd known Jongho for 4 years now and in that time learned you just had to let him speak when he was ready. Jongho was silent for a few seconds before he sighed "you know don't you?". You paused before nodding "yeah I heard but Jongho please don't be upset, she's horrible and should be ashamed of herself". Jongho buried his head in his hands not speaking and you looked at him unsure of what to do. "Jongho?" you asked "do you want me to take you home?" and he nodded "yes please". You got him in your car and then paused. "I don't want to talk about it" Jongho said pre-empting your next question and you nodded "okay" and drove home in silence.

Once you got to Jongho's place you came inside and watched tv with him until his members came home. He was quiet all night and the guys asked what happened but he wouldn't tell them. They then asked you once he'd gone to bed and you shook your head "it's Jongho's story to tell, someone was just incredibly rude to him so he might be a little down the next few days. So just keep an eye on him and big him up as much as you can". The boys assured you they would and thanked you for being with him. "I'll always be there for Jongho" you replied and San smiled "Y/n where can I find a woman like you?" and you laughed "with that smile of yours you'll find one easily" and you said goodnight to them all before driving home. Your members were all anxious to know how Jongho was and were furious on his behalf. They didn't know exactly what Maisie said but could guess and all promised the next time they saw Jongho they'd be extra kind to him. You appreciated all their support and texted Jongho before you went to bed telling him you were here if he needed you but didn't get any reply. When you next saw Jongho he acted like that night never happened and you figured he was trying to move on so went along with it. Maisie didn't come up in your everyday conversation anyway so it was easy to pretend she never existed but there was an event looming on the horizon. The yearly Isac games. You knew Maisie’s group Porcelain was going to be there because you got a list of the attending groups a week before. You asked Jongho about the event and he didn't say much about it but you knew he was worried about seeing her again. He hadn't been at many events, especially not the socials afterwards since that night so this would be the first time he saw her. His members had worked out which group it was and which member and promised you they'd keep an eye on him. You saw Maisie enter before you saw Jongho and you tensed up watching her. She looked so happy and carefree and that bugged you. Gahyeon hugged you telling you to ignore her and you nodded taking her hand "yeah...I won't let her ruin my day" but of course she was everywhere you went. When you went to go grab a bib she was in front of you. When you were lining up on the track her group was right behind you. You kept hearing her annoying laugh, the same one she'd used when she rejected Jongho, and it bothered you insanely. So when you found out your group was facing Porcelain in a football match you were more than ready. You were competitive anyway but JiU made you promise to behave. "Don't start a fight with her or anything, not because I think you wouldn't win but more like I know you'd kick her ass and get told off" and you laughed "I would, wouldn't I?" and the girls chuckled. You were pretty good at football so were the striker and it just so happened Maisie was a defender. You sighed when you saw the position she'd been given, meaning she'd be with you all the time and Siyeon rubbed your arm "it's okay, you can beat her but just don't be excessive" and you nodded "okay". Anytime Maisie got the ball you dispossessed her and it was honestly quite cathartic but to be honest she didn't get the ball much because she acted like this was 50 years ago and screamed anytime the ball came near her. She'd then look around to see if anyone had noticed her reaction and adjust her hair telling you she wasn't really scared but was doing that annoying thing of pretending to be weak to appear more girly as if being weak had anything to do with being a woman. So you started marking other players because she was clearly no threat and you didn't want to be beside her any more than you had to be. You managed to score twice and were winning 3 - 1 when the literal golden opportunity arrived. They were playing music in the background and an Ateez song came on making you glance to where the boys were standing, cheering you in the stands. Then there was a scuffle on the pitch where one of Maisie's members pushed Handong nearly making her fall. The ball rolled away from the group of girls and directly to Maisie. She got the ball but didn't see you directly behind her. She actually giggled thinking she was in the clear and it was so perfect you smiled. You sprinted towards her and her fans started trying to warn her but it was too late. You tackled the ball from her, not even touching her, but with enough momentum, she was knocked to the floor with a child-like scream. You proceeded to the goal and shot it into the top right corner and your fans erupted into screams. Your teammates all cheered and you did a celebration dance. Maisie was furious because there was now mud on her face and she claimed you pushed her. The referee kept telling her you hadn't even touched her and that made her actually shriek. "God what a mess" Sua said and you giggled. You knew it was mean but after that, you tried to annoy Maisie as much as you could. You'd purposefully bump into her and anytime she so much as went near the ball you were there. She was clearly getting really annoyed with you and you actually heard her comment that girls like that shouldn't be allowed to play with normal girls. "If she falls on me she could literally injure me!" you heard her tell one of her members and you grinned "then maybe try and stay on your feet? Hard I know but give it a go" and you ran off. The hilarious part was she actually did try challenging you a few times too but you easily outmanoeuvred her by being faster, stronger and more skilled. You were enjoying this way too much but thankfully the whistle was called and you won. You didn't gloat too much but did cheer with your members. "Y/n you murdered her!" Handong cried and you laughed "well I guess it was just payback for Jongho" and they all nodded. "Plus revenge for knocking you down" you said to Handong who blushed and smiled. Nobody messed with the people you cared about. When you saw Ateez later the boys were similarly pleased with your performance and congratulated you. "Way to take out the trash Y/n!" Wooyoung cried and Seonghwa nodded "I thought she was actually going to try and fight you at one point". "Yeah like she'd be dumb enough to try that!" Yunho cried and you laughed thanking them all but one member was suspiciously quiet. Jongho. You figured he might just be quiet because of the circumstance but even later on when the event ended he still hadn't spoken to you. You thought this was odd so managed to find him backstage. "Hey" you said waving to him "how are you? I haven't seen you all day". Jongho nodded "fine" but didn't look up from his phone. You frowned "are you sure? You don't seem fine". "I'm fine" he repeated not coldly but firmly so you let it drop. After Isac Ateez were having a party and they invited your group and a few others. You went and noticed Jongho wasn't joining in. He claimed he was getting changed but spent nearly 2 hours in his room and when he appeared he just went outside so you followed him. "Hey" you called and Jongho nodded "hi". "So... you sure you're still okay?” you asked and Jongho just nodded. "Jongho look it's okay you're upset to see her. It's going to be awkward the first few times but it must've been great watching us beat her". Jongho sighed "yeah sure...watching your friend fight your battles feels great". You paused "what? I wasn't fighting your battle just giving her a taste of her own medicine”. Jongho shook his head "didn't look like it to me. Looked like I was too pathetic to act so you did instead". "Jongho people aren't going to think that” you argued but he shook his head "yes they are! People know we're friends and you made it so obvious you had a problem with Maisie. They can easily connect the dots". You frowned "I...well I don't think I embarrassed you. We're friends, why wouldn't I want to defend you?" you asked. Jongho sighed "but it makes me look so weak y/n!". "Why because a girl was defending you?" you asked. "No of course not! I've watched you beat Wooyoung up tons of times and cheered you on. I know you're strong and have no issues with that". "So what about me was so embarrassing?" you asked. When Jongho couldn't reply you shook your head "sorry for trying to help" you said "next time I won't so I won't humiliate you" and stormed away. Jongho watched you go and lasted 10 seconds before he rushed after you, the guilt setting in but you’s disappeared!The house was pretty full but he spotted your members and approached them. They just wordlessly pointed to the front door and he receded out of it. He thought he might have to chase after your car but he found you sitting at the bench at the end of the path. "Mind if I sit?" he asked and you shook your head. "I'm sorry" he said "you're not embarrassing. You always have my corner and I'm so grateful for that". "So what made you so upset?" you asked. Jongho sighed "I guess because you confronting her confirmed it happened. I know it did but I just pretend it didn't in public. That's why I've never confronted her, I'm too embarrassed to but you going head to head with her...I felt like it made it more real. It wasn't something I could just pretend didn't happen and that embarrassed me. I was embarrassed of myself" he clarified "for being such an idiot to think a girl like that would be into me". You shook your head "don't do that, don't put yourself down for her". "But it's true!" Jongho said "I was feeling good that night because I'd got compliments from lots of idols about the high note I reached and my body was the best I'd ever seen. I was feeling confident so I tried my luck but I overshot. No matter how good a singer I am I still don't look like Wooyoung". "Stop it" you said "I didn't kick Maisie's ass today for you to think you're not good-looking. I did it to prove to her you were. That there are people out there who disagree with her and think you're a great guy. You're strong, handsome and have a beautiful kind face any girl with a brain would want". "That's sweet but you're probably the only person who thinks that and you're my best friend so you just see me in the perfect non-sexy way friends view one another". You looked down and shook your head "guess I'm not a friend then" and Jongho looked at you "what?". "I think you're hot Jongho, I have for a while" you admitted and Jongho's eyes widened "what?". "I'm attracted to you" you admitted "which is partly why it angered me so much to hear Maisie say that stuff to you and how it affected you. I hated that it made your confidence dip because to me... you're beautiful". Jongho blushed and looked down "I had no idea...". "Yeah well it was something I kept hidden" you admitted "I wasn't going to melt anytime you walked in the room". Jongho smiled "no you're way too cool for that" making you pause and blush. "So you're telling me all this time I could've had a girl like you and I was after Maisie?" Jongho asked. You paused "I guess" and he shook his head "wow now I'm really glad she rejected me because nobodies better than you". You blushed "wait so you...". "I like you too" Jongho admitted shooting you one of his beautiful smiles "you've always showered me with care and love and I want to do the same with you. I think I can make you happy" he said placing a hand on your face making you blush even more. "I think you can too" you admitted and you both leaned forwards at once. "Hey has anyone seen Jongho?" Seonghwa asked the group assembled before him "he's not in his room". "He went after Y/n like an hour ago, is he not back yet?" Siyeon asked. "No, I hope he's okay" Yunho sighed when Sua started laughing. "What's so funny?" Hongjoong asked and the girl turned around smiling. "Neither of them got very far, look" Sua said stepping away from the window and they all rushed forwards...to see the two of you wrapped up together on the bench. Jongho had an arm around you and you were leaving against his chest. Jongho was leaning his head against yours and the two of you looked so cute. "Finally!" Wooyoung cheered and all the members laughed before gasping realising the other group knew all along too. They all began debating which one of you had fallen for the other first but you and Jongho were far away. Wrapped up with each other nothing else in the world mattered because you'd finally found each other. _____ Okay so I heard a rumour something similar to what I described at the start of this story really happened to Jongho. I'm not saying the rumour is true and I changed the idol's name to not accuse her, but the idea alone made me so sad and angry so I created this!

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andsoigotabutterfly · 1 year

Text

Scream

Tara Carpenter x fem!gf!Reader

summary: Your obsession over Tara makes you snap at one of your teammates and former bully. Sweet revenge...

warnings: canon-typical violence, blood, murder, harsh language

word count: 4.4k

a.n: This was inpired by 'Scream' from Dreamcatcher, a k-pop band. Make sure to check it out! I also only planed this to be a oneshot, but I might be tempted to make more parts to it. Let me know what you think!

pairings: tara carpenter x reader, platonic!amber freeman x reader

English isn't my native language, but I tried my best as always!

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You’ve become the best player on the school’s rugby team. Everybody treated you with respect and nobody dared cross your path. This didn’t use to be this way. When you first arrived at Woodsboro high, you were bullied and pushed around like a piece of meat by the people, that now, fear you on the field. Their leader was Katia, middle heighted, hot-headed girl. They considered themselves better, for they were good at what they did yet you didn’t excel at anything really. They picked on you for your constant humming of the same lullaby, weird habits and for you not having any friends. You weren’t a bad student your grades were average, and the teachers liked you. You just weren’t exceedingly good at what you liked. It didn’t help that you were silent most of the time either, except for your humming. Never speaking much, always keeping your thoughts to yourself.

After a year, you decided to try out what they were doing, and you immediately outmatched all of them in it. The moment you stepped on the field, it was as if you had been replaced by a superior, more powerful, and robust version of you. You just couldn’t be stopped.

For this you quickly became a core member of the school’s rugby team. With your lead you won price after price, demolishing anyone who would dare stand out against you. It felt unfair, yet glorious. Your old bullies reconciled with you, trying to make you like them, but you pushed them away. Their actions and behaviour disgusted you, yet you needed to tolerate them. They were pretty good at what they did during matches.

Beside the bullies disappearing, your social life changed too. You made some new friends and joined their group. Without realizing it at first, you’ve become obsessed with one of them very quickly. Tara was her name. Just thinking it made you have goosebumps. Her eyes were captivating, her movements were perfect, her existence was a bliss. Her laugh would melt you and give you energy throughout the day. You watched her in classes, only taking her eyes off her if someone pointed it out, or she noticed. Being in her presence always made you calm and at peace. Yet it has also awoke something inside you. You’ve always felt it, but now it was intensified by her. It was this great rage, buried deep inside of you. You could feel it growing, devouring you whenever someone made her discomfortable even the slightest. Whenever someone pushed against her in the corridor. Whenever someone touched what was yours.

To your fortune, you two started hanging out even outside of school. You held movie nights almost daily, which didn’t cause any problems, because both of basically lived alone. Your parents died in a car accident, whilst your uncle, your new guard was either on drugs, or was drunk all the time. Her family was a bit more complicated story.

“Don’t tell me you have never seen Stab…” she said in disbelief one night. “You at least know what it’s about… right?”

“Of course! Masked killer starts stabbing. Hence the title. The directors could have been a little more creative don’t you think?” you asked sarcastically.

Tara’s mouth was wide open. When her shock wore of, she put the first one on, not giving you the chance to protest. You started to watch it, not having real high expectations for it. You couldn’t have been more wrong. Just after the first kill, you were glued to the screen. It just felt alive. The murders were brutal, gory, and fulfilling. It tingled and sated that side of you, you didn’t really get to know yet. Every second of it was perfect. It reminded you of her. You were so immersed by the movie, you didn’t notice that she was looking at you the whole time, her mood only changing with yours. When the end credits rolled you looked at her and said, “Looks like we are having a marathon tonight.”

After you saw the movies, you got obsessed with them. Not long after, you bought the mask, the robe, and the knife to have the complete set. You didn’t plan on showing it to her but caved the moment she set foot at your place. She looked happy, that she made a fan out of you.

Your friendship hit an all-time high. You two were always seen together, never one, without the other. Your friends were fuming over how oblivious the two of you were, betting over when you two finally admit your feelings for another. At first it was meant to be fun, but when their purses started to deplete, they got more and more inpatient.

Tara started attending your rugby practices not long after, which always made you have butterflies in your stomach. On a sunny Tuesday, whilst having dinner together, you discovered from Chad that she herself is playing rugby too. Just not in school.

“You’re kidding…” you said in disbelief.

“Nope” he replied, popping the ‘p’. “She isn’t just playing. She is good at it. Might I say even better than you, my dear darling!”

For that last part you gave him a look that got him to shut up quick.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you turned to her, asking curiously.

“I… don’t really know. I guess it just never came up?” she answered shyly.

“And you say she’s good?”

Before he could answer, she asked back. “You question his statement?”

Careful. You thought to yourself. “Well, you don’t seem like the type that…” Idiot!

“Let me show you on the field just what type I am to you…” she said, her voice filled with dismay.

“I didn’t mean to offend you, Tara.”

“Too late Miss L/N…”

“Oh, you’ve done it. She is using last names…” Chad said, sinking back in his chair, wishing to be anywhere not here.

“On the field. Tomorrow at your practice” Tara said with finality.

“I’m looking forward to this” you said with a chuckle.

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

That night you were so excited for the next day, you couldn't sleep. The thought of Tara and you being together on the field made you happy and giddy. This mood got the better of you, and Amber was the one that would take the worst of it. She was your go to in everything. You knew you trust her with everything, so you did. When your obsession with Tara started, she didn’t judge you for it, even encouraged you. Right now, she wished she didn’t do it. You were texting her non-stop about her, disrupting her sleep. She groaned loudly into her pillow as the sounds of your texts going off sieged her ears. Yet, she didn’t have the heart to turn you down, and to ignore you. So, she started writing back.

As you rented about what tactics you will use and told her how you will maybe let her win, she wrote back an occasional “yes”, or “That shit will WORK”. You didn’t comprehend how much time has passed as you talked with each other while you were humming your usual lullaby. Finally, you noticed your surroundings getting brighter. As your tired mind finally recognized what this meant, you facepalmed yourself so hard your head hit the wall, making you groan out loud. You looked at the time and realized that you didn’t just not have time to sleep but would need to hurry to not be late from school. You quickly got ready, making a hot cup of coffee, and after chugging it down, you started sprinting, your bag bouncing of your back.

The streets were filled with jack o’ lanterns, as it was the end of October. Tomorrow would be Halloween, which got the city exited, decorating the whole place with Ghostface masks and paper knives. You saw some bats and spiders here and there, but the main decoration everywhere, was the legacy of Woodsboro.

You got to school just in time. You swept through the halls decorated in Halloween theme, making it to your destination just as the teacher closed the door behind him. Damned hour zero. you thought as you grabbed the door and sneaked into the classroom. The teacher had his back towards you, so you quietly pulled the door towards yourself wishing it would shut by itself and started slowly but surely making your way beside Tara’s side.

“Miss L/N would you mind please closing the door behind you?” Mr. Darsney asked with a condescending tone. For a moment you stooped even lover, then straightened your posture and went back to the door to close it. Loud. The class was giggling, Tara’s face shining brighter than the sun itself. You felt yourself get mesmerized by her. “Not only are you late, Miss L/N, but to you standing there, beside the door, watching somebody very curiously is more important to you than to sprint to the desk to run through your notes in case of a surprise test? Now that’s bold… Bold enough to assume you are overly prepared for it.”

You tried walking to your place but was cut off by him once more. “No, Miss L/N, please come out here, and tell me how you would solve this quadradic equation…” You turned towards the numbers he wrote on the table and shot lightnings at him with your eyes. There was no way in hell you could solve this in this state of mind, and he knew it, wide grin on his face.

After a few more questions, he let you sit down, a new ‘F’ decorating your grade book. You were fuming there beside Tara, imagining different and more creative ways to end Darsney’s life. Some of them you quite liked. Still, your favourite was running your knife through him over and over and over and over again. What am I thinking? It was the rage. Must have been the rage.

“You, okay?” Tara asked you, as you slumped down next to her.

“I’m alright” you said, as you sighed deeply.

After class, you and Tara went to the yard, to the place where you and your friends would always sit and talk. They all pour in one by one, Amber being the last one. Her expression is plain dead, as if she was dragged out of a coffin just moments ago.

“Well, you look like hell” you teased her. She gave you such a dark look, you immediately shut up. Her gaze stayed on you for a couple more moments, making you feel small, but would eventually dissipate. “Wanna watch the big showdown between me and Tara?”

“I’d rather not talk about that now…” she managed to say out. The tiredness in her voice made you feel sorry for her. She lived almost as far away as you from school, if not farther.

Yet, hours later, she showed up to the practice, taking her usual space, next to the field. You arrived a little late. The others already began the practice. Today the coach called in sick, so you were left to do what you thought was best for yourselves. As you approached the others, you spotted Tara already being around them, making lightning quick moves with the ball. What she lacked in strength and height she made up for in speed and agility. You couldn’t be more amazed.

After watching the game unfold for almost five minutes, they spotted you and started making teams. You let them know you and Tara wanted to be on opposite sides, which they gladly accepted. No one would have a chance if you two were put together.

As you lined up before each other, Tara threw you a wide grin. You leaned into position; your face close to hers. She looked at you, then pouted, playing the weak little girl. “Please, don’t make me scream. I don’t want to!”

“Oh, but I would love to hear that! Preferably somewhere else…” you answered, mimicking her smile.

“Keep it in your pants Y/N” she said, leaning even closer. “Not while they are watching…” she whispered in your ear, making you have goosebumps. You felt lightheaded and hazy. Her smirk told you that she noticed your state of mind. She leaned in close once again. “Who knows” she started whispering again. “Maybe I’ll let you hear them afterwards…”

She leaned back before you could do anything, then signalled for the match to start. As the whistle’s sound cut through the air, you threw yourself into the area where the ball would fall, Tara in your tracks. You watched the sky as the ball descended right into… Tara’s hands. Somehow, she ran around you and snatched the ball away from you. As soon as she did that, she started sprinting towards the goal, but was caught by one of Katia’s friends, Delilah. As they smashed together Tara fell back on the ground making you shout at her. As you realized you couldn’t be angry at your own teammate you found an excuse for your anger, told a few instructions then went back to playing the game. Focus Y/N. Focus you thought to yourself.

The end of the match was nearing, and the score was tied. With a few more of your outbursts, your team wasn’t really in the mood to stop Tara once she got the ball. But you needed the win and tensions were high. Then, when the timer was nearing zero, Tara got the ball again. You chased after her, taking everything you had to catch up, still failing. Then she bounced back from something, hitting the floor hard, making her scream out in pain.

You stopped, blood boiling in your veins as you looked up at the woman who stood above Tara. It was Katia, sweat dripping down her face. Something in you snapped, suddenly seeing every little detail in the field. In just a moment you decided against gutting Katia right in front of everyone. You strengthened your posture and went to Tara to help her up. Even with your senses getting better than ever, you didn’t see the knowing look she gave you.

With Tara not being able to play because of her sprained ankle, the match ended in a win, making your team cheer on you and each other. While the other team was sulking, Tara was only watching you. Your iron gaze, that never left Katia, watching her every move, eyeing her up for something. Then you excused yourself, making your way to the change rooms. Amber threw you a worried look too, but you ignored it as you stormed away.

Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill. These were the only words that were on your mind. Her scream echoed through your head again, and again, making your newly found rage and anger boiling up more and more inside you. Dead woman walking. Let me hear her scream! Let me see her insides! You couldn’t think straight. Your hatred took you over, made you turn, all barriers gone. You weren’t just going to let these thoughts be. You were going to act on them. Even the timing was perfect. Now you were free from your own restraints. Now you felt powerful. Now you could do anything. And she was going to pay.

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

There was a party that night at Katia’s, which you now excused yourself from. You also cancelled a movie night with Tara, saying you don’t feel so good. Then you took the robe out from the closet, and just looked at it for a while. You closed your eyes and saw what you would do in it. The feeling you felt from it was glorious. You put it in a bag and put the mask and the knife beside it. You also brought your uncle’s old Nokia with you, so you couldn’t be traced back. You wanted to mimic the original. It was the least you could do if you used their robes.

You left the house in a black t-shirt and jeans, walking towards Katie’s house, which was not far from yours. Costumed people were stumbling in and out of the house’s door. You realized you could have just come as Ghostface and still wouldn’t be suspicious. So, you hid behind a wall, and started to change. Lastly you put on the mask, with a careful and slow move. You hid the knife in your robes and walked to the house.

As people noticed you, they complimented your costume, saying it looked very real. Of course, it looks real. It wasn’t just bought from any site. You fumed at their ignorance. You were reminded, that when the robe arrived its hands were… bad. You needed to cut them down and sew back what you made from the material. You were proud of your work, and it felt good that people complimented it. Even though they knew nothing of what it took to make it stand out.

The house would have looked homely if it weren’t for the beer cups and liquid that were spurred around the rooms. Some music was banging in the background making you sick to the stomach. You call this music? Oh, you wanted to carve up the DJ too. Maybe you would.

Your eyes scanned the place, looking for Katia. You found her, heading downstairs after somebody. Perfect. You followed her, making sure to close the door of the basement behind you, leaving no escape route. You slowly started making your way down the stairs, taking joy in every step that got you closer to your prey. You looked around the room, finding a curtain to hide behind, next to some boxes. Then, you froze down.

She was talking with a girl; you wish you hadn’t seen here. Tara was cornered by her, covering shyly back from the other woman. Your breath slowed, and your vision went red.

Tara was worried about you calling sick but didn’t mention it. To Chad’s encouragement she attended Katie’s party but regretted it the moment she realized you wouldn’t be there. After she got there dressed as a pirate, she regretted it even more. People were too crowded, and Katie’s band wouldn’t leave her alone, either telling her how great she was, or mocking her with ridiculous reasons. When she heard them talking you out, she couldn’t take it and made her way outside for some fresh air. She found a mass outside too; she went downstairs to finally be alone. Even that didn’t go as planned. She missed your company. She missed your voice. She missed your touch.

Then, Katia showed up, and made it worse. How could she make something this bad even worse?

“You know, I never apologized for how I knocked you up” she started, not sounding genuine. “So, I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“No problem” Tara said, standing up and trying to make it past her, but Katia moved so she couldn’t. She shot her a questioning glare but was met by a sudden closeness from the other woman, who was now in her face, making Tara stumble back, hitting the wall.

“You were pretty impressive on practice today” Katia started again, with a deeper voice as she moved even closer. “I couldn’t keep my eyes off you…”

“Thanks?” Tara said, questioningly.

“You know, I can feel your gaze on me too. In classes, in the corridors of the school, at practice” Katia said, tucking at Tara’s shirt. “Some would say it’s creepy bu-“ she was cut of by her ringing phone.

She stepped back, taking her phone out of her back pocket with a frown. She didn’t know the number so she hang up. As she started to put it away, it rang again. Confused, she put it down again, only for it to start over. Tara felt relived a little, trying to inch out of the other woman’s periphery. When Katia hung up again there was a beat of silence. Until Tara’s phone rang. The two women looked at each other, fear evident in their eyes, then Tara picked up.

“Hello?” she all but asked, her voice trembling. She wasn’t sure who to fear more, the woman in front of her, or the human across the line. When she heard that voice, she was certain it was the later.

“Hello Tara” Ghostface said. “Could you pull Katia to the line? I would really love to talk with her. Oh, and don’t worry. All you need to do is watch…”

“Who is it?” Katia asked, as she saw Tara turn pale, all blood escaping her face.

“I- It’s for you” she managed to mutter out as she held the phone towards her. Katia took it and immediately spoke.

“Listen here you little cree-“

“No, you listen bitch! Didn’t your parents teach you manners?! When the phone rings, you answer it.”

“So, you were the one who was ringing me non-stop?” she asked with a shaken voice, taken off-guard by your voice’s rawness.

“Indeed, I was. Now, I’m going to be nice and give you a chance…” No not really you thought as your smile only grew bigger.

“A chance to what?”

“To make it out alive from this cold, rigid basement” you rolled your eyes.

She looked around, walking straight towards the stairs as she hung up. You ripped of your cover from before you, stopping her in her steps. You tilted your head, as you studied her, frightened, horrified face.

“Manners, maketh, man” you said, emphasising every word. You took the knife out, turning sideways towards her. “I’m disappointed that you acted so rashly. Now, I need to skip over the little game we would have had, and I hate to skip over things!”

“Wha- What do you want?” she asked, backing away from you. Just seeing her like this made everything worth it.

“It’s pretty simple” you answered her, stepping slowly closer. Tara was to your right, the stairs to the left, knife in your right hand. You shook it a little, to sharpen the tension in Katia. As you did, she hit the wall, stumbling off it. In a moment, you were on her, gripping her neck tightly. “I just want to her you scream!”

As you said the words, you plunged the knife into her stomach, turning it to make it more painful. The cries she let out were music to your ears, everything else fading in the background. You pulled out, then stabbed her twice in the chest, making her writhe under your unclenching fingers. Warm blood was dripping down your hand, and it made you feel good.

You let her fall to the ground, as her legs couldn’t hold her anymore. As she coughed, she held one of her hands up, trying to stop you. “Do you know who my fathe- Argh!” you didn’t let her finish that sentence, kicking one of her new wounds.

“Sorry, somehow, I’m just not worried about deputy James” you told her. You didn’t even notice that Tara wasn’t beside you anymore as she disappeared in the background, slowly making her way up the stairs. Her ankle hurt like hell, so she tried her best to hold back her whimpers. Her heart was pounding in her chest, yet she wasn’t scared. She felt that something was off with this Ghostface.

You started humming as you placed yourself on top of Katia, pressing one of your knees into her wounds, kicking the other one, so it would break. That finally got her to scream out in pain. A chill ran up your spine at the sound. It felt majestic.

Next to Katia’s screams, there was a new sound in the room, that made Tara stop trying to pry the door open. She looked down the stairs, eyes wide. She would recognize that humming anywhere. Your humming. Was this reality or was she dreaming? Why did she feel even less sympathy for Katia now, that she knew who was behind the mask. Without thinking straight, she started stepping back down the stairs.

As Katia squirmed under you, you felt more fulfilled than ever. You made every cut, every stab, every hit with total consciousness. Blood was covering the woman, making her eyes red, as her tears mixed with the crimson liquid. You let yourself enjoy what you did, making no lethal cuts. You also tried to make sure she was wake long enough to feel every single one of them. As your tunes came to an end, you leaned over to her face, gripping her hair to hold her back. “Now you know what happens when you touch what’s mine” you said, then dived your knife into her neck, just beside the chin. She arched up one last time, then fell back, not moving anymore. You took the knife out of her neck, swiping the blood of from it. Then you looked back up.

Tara was leaning against the staircase’s frame, watching you with wide eyes. Her posture didn’t show any sign of discomfort or fear, admiration showing on her face. As you stood up, she mimicked you, then she took a step towards you. Then another. When she was close enough, she reached out for your mask, leaving you time to move back, but you didn’t. As she grabbed it and took it off, she let out a sigh.

“Tara…” you started, but were cut of by her lips on yours, as she leaned up to kiss you. It was hot, messy, and perfect. Her lips felt so soft, you could get high from them. Your knife dropped to the floor, but neither of you paid attention to it. You let her tongue pass into your mouth, which she did without hesitation. As you took her deeper, she pressed her body into you, turning yours on fire. She exhaled through her nose, then pulled away so that she could take a breath.

“That, was hot” she said, eyeing you. You couldn’t answer her, still trying to comprehend what just happened. “All this for me?” she asked, as she grinned at you.

“Everything for you…” you blared out immediately. “I would do anything for you. I would drown the world in blood before anyone could take you from me.”

When you finished, she kissed you again deeply. It didn’t take much time for you to turn the party into a make out session. “Take me” she whispered into your ear. “Let me scream for you.” Your mind went blank at those words, and you did what she asked of you. Tara felt in heaven as you made her feel better than ever. She looked down at Katia’s fresh dead body, relief flooding through her, making the sensations even better. She was laying with her killer, and it made everything just right.

#my stuff #scream fanfic #scream fanfiction #scream #Tara Carpenter #Amber Freeman #Tara Carpenter x reader #Tara Carpenter x you #platonic!amber freeman x you #fanfiction #tara x reader #ghostface!reader #jenna ortega #tara carpenter x reader #Spotify

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sicknessbysalem · 8 months

Text

Novemetober (Rescheduled) | Day Four

if you have questions or requests, feel free to ask!

@monthofsick

tw emeto, fever, sickness, scat (in conjuction with emeto)

Meadow slowly opened her eyes to the soft glow of dawn filtering through the curtains. Her bedroom room, filled with dreamcatchers and tapestries, usually felt serene.

However, as she sat up, a wave of queasiness swept over her, a subtle disturbance in the tranquility of her morning.

Her stomach, a knot of uncertainty, made its upset known as she swung her legs out of bed. The wooden floor beneath her feet felt cool, grounding her in the reality of the moment.

It was Friday. Friday meant show night. Friday meant the afternoon shift at the Whiskey Creek Tavern, and then grabbing her guitar and playing music for bar goers for extra tips.

Meadow ran a hand through her hair, one of her feather extensions finally breaking free of her hair. She probably needed to redo it today. Take out the old, put on some new ones.

As she stood before the mirror, the reflection revealed a hint of fatigue in her eyes, contrasting the usual sparkle. Meadow's fingers ran through her hair, attempting to shake off the lingering drowsiness.

In the midst of applying gentle strokes of mascara, a sudden spell of nausea struck, causing her to pause.

The nausea made her nervous. It always did. She immediately went into her bathroom, and she was sure an hour passed that she was waiting for the wave of vomit that never came.

The nausea passed. Meadow took a deep breath, willing the discomfort away. She had her windows open, it was spring time and the wildflowers in her yard were freshly in bloom. The scents that Meadow usually welcomed, the flowers and the early morning dew, that were usually so comforting were almost too much for her.

Random spells of nausea continued to tease, leaving Meadow to navigate the morning with subtle panic. She hated vomiting, it scared her.

As she put in some new feather extensions, there were a few dry heaves, each one making the panic worse, which probably did her upset stomach no favors.

She got dressed. Her usually flowy top, her colorful skirt, her floral corset. She put on a few bracelets. She tried to just act like she was feeling totally normal.

As Meadow joined April, Allie, and Arizona for lunch, the familiar scent of homemade dishes filled the air. The restaurant was one of Meadow’s favorites, a small family owned restaurant. It was Meadow’s favorite place when she moved to town.

But today the thought of walking in made her want to throw up. Her stomach felt worse, she was sure because of the anxiety, and the mere thought of putting anything in her stomach made her want to lose it.

"Meadow, sweetheart, you seem a bit off today. Everything okay?" April said at some point.

Meadow, usually bubbly and full of life, managed a faint smile, attempting to reassure April. "Yeah, just a bit tired, you know? I was out late in the field, inspiration strikes at the worst time. Nothing to worry about."

However, April's maternal instincts kicked in, and she couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. Meadow, quieter than usual, picked at her food.

"Sugar, you gotta eat something,” April said, “Its going to be busy tonight, you know how Fridays are.”

“Right,” Meadow said, forcing a chuckle, “I was just zoning out. Sorry.”

Meadow started to eat then. Her stubbornness and disdain for people worrying about her outweighed her queasiness. She started eating more than she probably should, a silent message that she was perfectly fine. Each bite felt like a deliberate effort, the flavors blending with the lingering queasiness that still clung to her. But she continued to eat the food she had.

This was going to be a long night…

The atmosphere at Whiskey Creek Tavern buzzed with the lively energy of patrons and the soulful tunes drifting from the stage. Meadow always started the night by taking orders and delivering plates with her usual charm. However, it felt so impossible to maintain.

As the evening unfolded, Meadow began to feel a mounting discomfort in her stomach. The eclectic mix of dishes she had consumed earlier now seemed to swirl uncomfortably within her. The tight embrace of her corset felt constricting, adding to her unease.

April, perceptive as ever, noticed the subtle shift in Meadow's demeanor. "Sugar, do you need a break?" she suggested, concern etched across her face.

Meadow, determined not to let on, flashed a reassuring smile. "No, April, I'm good. Just a bit tired, that's all."

As she continued to navigate the crowded tavern, the queasiness intensified. The lively chatter around her seemed to blur, and Meadow struggled to focus on her tasks. A conflict brewed within her – an internal debate between the fear of admitting she wasn't well and the growing urgency to find relief.

The sensation intensified, leaving Meadow torn between the need to dash to the bathroom and the fear of attracting attention. A wave of nausea threatened to overtake her, but she fought to keep it at bay.

"April, could you handle the next few tables for me?" Meadow requested, attempting to maintain composure.

April, sensing something amiss, nodded understandingly. "Of course, sweetheart. Take a break if you need to."

Meadow, now feeling the pressure of her corset against her abdomen, excused herself and hurried toward the restroom. The dimly lit corridor provided a momentary refuge, and she took a deep breath, trying to quell the rising discomfort. The struggle continued, a silent battle between her desire to appear unfazed and the growing urgency within.

In the dimly lit restroom of Whiskey Creek Tavern, Meadow leaned against the sink. She could feel her corset seemed to press too hard on her stomach, like she tied it too tight.

As she stood there, Meadow's mind added to her suffering by reminding her of everything she ate earlier. She could almost taste it all over again. The queasiness escalated into a painful reality, and a sudden urgency sent her rushing to the stall.

She pulled down her skirt. Almost immediately she could feel liquid rushing out of her.

The tightness of the corset felt unforgiving. She pressed her hands against her stomach, which sent more out of her.

Every wave made her want to gag. Her throat felt tight, like she was going to puke.

After what felt like an eternity, Meadow emerged from the stall, her complexion paler than before. She washed her hands, avoiding her reflection in the mirror, not wanting to confront the vulnerability etched on her face.

She splashed cold water on her face. She took a deep breath.

The stage at Whiskey Creek Tavern awaited Meadow, her guitar resting against her as she prepared to share her music with the eager audience. The vibrant lights cast a warm glow, and the hum of anticipation filled the air. Meadow, however, felt the familiar waves of discomfort intensify as she took her place under the spotlight.

This was truly Meadow’s favorite thing. She loved getting up here, performing. It was entertaining and most of the time, the people were so nice.

But the weight of her guitar on her stomach, once a familiar comfort, made her feel worse. And moving around as she always did was making her feel like she would lose it one way or another.

The crowd, absorbed in the music, remained oblivious to Meadow's internal battle. With each note, the queasiness intensified, threatening to overshadow the magic of her performance.

She felt her corset digging into her stomach. Meadow knew what was going to happen. The discomfort was low. She felt sweat on her forehead, on her back, as the moments ticked by, her corset felt tighter and her top felt suffocating.

She finished half her set. Maybe she could split it. She could wrap up this half, give someone else a go, maybe step outside a moment to collect herself, and go from there.

That’s what she did. Pulling Houston on stage, letting him do his set. She didn’t hesitate to basically run off.

“Meadow?” Allie is behind her.

The tightness of the corset felt unbearable now, every step intensifying the discomfort. She thought about taking it off, maybe, but she also didn’t want to set it down and forget it or something.

"I just need a moment," Meadow managed to whisper, though her breaths came in shallow gasps.

She stumbled towards the exit, the cool night air promising relief. The world outside the tavern embraced her with a gentle breeze, but the queasiness persisted.

The plan was to catch her breath, but the discomfort had other plans. Meadow rushed towards the restroom, a desperate urgency propelling her forward. The door closed behind her, muffling the distant sounds of the lively tavern.

Alone in the dimly lit restroom, she felt the corset tightening like a vice, her stomach in revolt. She immediately sat on the toilet, in the stall.

The first wave of diarrhea offered a brief reprieve, but Meadow's relief was short-lived. The discomfort lingered, morphing into an ominous prelude. She clutched her stomach, beads of sweat now forming a sheen on her forehead. The once vibrant tie-dye skirt seemed to mock her, a casualty of the evening's ordeal.

Pressing her hands to her stomach, more burning liquid shot out of her. It was horrible. She could feel the way the liquid cascaded out of her. Every cramp in her stomach was a precursor toward

Just as Meadow thought she might be able to gather herself, a sudden surge of nausea overwhelmed her. Panicking, she covered her mouth with her hand, desperately trying to suppress the rising tide of sickness. The corset felt like a cruel accomplice, constricting her further.

Unable to hold back any longer, the contents of her stomach erupted through her hand, catching on the vibrant skirt below. The bathroom became a cacophony of distress as the dual assault continued. Meadow, torn between the toilet and the mess she had unintentionally created, felt the vulnerability of the moment consume her.

Allie, sensing something was terribly wrong, knocked on the restroom door. "Meadow, are you okay?" she called, her voice filled with genuine concern.

Meadow, gasping for breath, couldn't muster a response. The eclectic sounds of the tavern seemed to blur with the retching, creating a surreal symphony of distress within the confines of the restroom. The vibrant spirit that had graced the stage now grappled with the harsh reality of her own physical limits.

As the bathroom door creaked open, Allie's eyes widened at the scene before her. The air carried the acrid scent of vomit, and her concern deepened as she saw Meadow's struggle.

"Meadow, sugar, what's happening?" Allie asked, rushing to her side. The tie-dye skirt, once vibrant, was now stained, a visual testament to the ordeal unfolding.

Meadow, still caught in the grip of her body's rebellion, could only manage a feeble gesture toward the mess she had unintentionally created.

The vomit, once held back by Meadow's desperate attempts, now flowed more copiously, intermingling with the occasional rounds of diarrhea. It seemed like her body was staging a simultaneous revolt from both ends.

Allie sighed, stepping over the mess to stand beside Meadow, rubbing her back.

“Sugar why are you-“ Allie started to ask, but hearing the gurgle of Meadow’s stomach followed by something splattering in the toilet, her question was answered.

"Hold on, Meadow," she said as her eyes fell on the strings of Meadow’s corset, "Sometimes, you need to get it all out to start feeling better."

Understanding that Meadow needed help, Allie got to work. Gently, she began to tighten the corset, untying it and pulling the strings tighter and tighter. The tighter the strings were, the more Meadow would puke up or send out the other end. Tightening the corset was not only providing support but also applying a controlled pressure that prompted Meadow's stomach to force out more.

Through the haze of discomfort, Allie's touch revealed something more alarming. As her hands brushed against Meadow's skin, she sensed an elevated warmth, indicating a fever. Concern etched across her face, Allie continued to tighten the corset, doing her best to provide comfort amid the distress.

The ordeal seemed to stretch on, the bathroom now a battleground between Meadow's body and the determined efforts of her makeshift caretaker.

Allie, a pillar of support, stayed by Meadow's side, silently hoping that this tumultuous symphony of discomfort would soon reach its resolution.

“Get it out sugar,” Allie said, “We can clean this mess in a bit, alright?”

#emeto #sickfic #emeto fic #emeto cw #emeto tw #fever cw #fever tw #emetophilia #scat tw #scat cw #food poisoning tw #food poisoning cw #novemetober rescheduled #novemetober 2023

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