#for my mom to find out that I’ve been yearning

[thewizardingpost]

soulmates...?

poly!marauders x fem!reader

summary ⌇ findng out that you “belong with” the infamous marauders, you run and hide. But in good ole fashioned fate, they find you like they’re supposed to.  warnings ⌇2.9k, soulmate au, strangers to friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst w/ happy ending, hinted ravenclaw!reader (but not directly said), divorce hinted at (R’s dad cheated), minor injuries (r receiving, mention of some blood), this is my fic (I just got a new account)

At the age of ten you learned about soulmates when three symbols appeared on the inside of your writer. It happened on your birthday, the sight of it scared you and you tried to rub it off until your mom intervened. She had explained to you then–that the three symbols on your arm would fill in with color whenever you were near them. Then you had gagged and waved your mother off, but after a few years you had begun to yearn for it. 

After getting admitted to Hogwarts, your friend from back home found hers after just sitting at the dining table after being sorted. She was ecstatic explaining it to you, and that event is what started your desire to know the three people you were ‘destined’ to be with. 

Classes had started, and still no luck. A year had gone by, and still nothing. Over the summer your mother had consoled you, telling you it'll take time and that it's usually rare to find out so long. With your hands in hers, sitting on the couch, you asked her a question that would change your perspective on the entire thing. You asked if dad was her soulmate, and she responded with a heartbreaking no. Her ‘soulmate’ had cheated on her. 

It changed you. To know that someone was supposed to be your forever could do such a thing, leave your mom broken and alone like that was terrifying, angering. You stopped checking your wrist often. You stopped checking other’s wrists to see if it matched yours. You stopped caring. 

Years passed and you were now a Fifth Year at Hogwarts. And about to be late for your first potions class of the semester. There was barely any time left so when you arrived you threw yourself at the first open seat you could find. The air was run out of you, making you breathe heavily. You already caused a scene running in, you had nothing else to lose by breathing loudly. 

“Sleep in?”

       Your eyes flitted to the person beside you, “Possibly.”

“Oh I think the answer is ‘definitely’,” he grins, “I should know, I do it often.”

Seeing how you were still looking down at the table, moving items around–you noticed in your peripheral how he angled his body so he could see your face. 

“Gonna tell me your name or shall I give you one?”

      “Why?”

“You’ve been to Hogwarts, haven’t you? Seeing as we’re sitting together, we’re going to be lab partners.”

And that’s how you first met Sirius–sitting in the back of your potions class. At first it had felt suffocating, but now you couldn’t deny the way he made you laugh. Over time you found yourself enjoying his presence, even accepting his invites to study outside of class. 

He told you to meet him at the library, but he never said where. You scanned the tables first before you wandered down the book isles, scanning each row until you found him on some random aisle in the charms section. 

“Sirius,” you whispered, tone harsh as to grab his attention, “I’ve been looking for you, I–” 

      “Shh, dollface. Can’t you see I'm reading?”

You brush off the nickname, “you never read, Sirius.” 

       “Excuse you, I absolutely do. Only if it involves something I’m interested in.” 

You move to see the title of the book, “jinxes?”

       “Only trying to spice life up a bit.”

You sighed, “we really must finish this assignment, I’d hate to get a bad grade already so early on in the school year.” 

When he didn’t budge, you sighed dramatically to pull him out of whatever trance the book seemed to have him in. He trailed behind you, mumbling something about having to tell someone about what he just read later. A few minutes later you found some seating in one of the aisles, the row having only three seats. With the one on the end taken, it forced the two of you to be pushed closer together on the inside. 

“I didn’t bring my notebook because my friend’s using it and I assume you don’t have yours,” you mumbled while you flipped through the pages of some old book, “so we’ll have to use this to understand the potion for the assignment. It’s pretty detailed so maybe we can both read it and discuss what we took away after. We have to have this information ready–Sirius, I feel like you’re not listening.”

        “Good observation, gorgeous–I’m not. This is a complete snore-fest.”

“This ‘snore-fest’ is 25% of your grade,” you whispered with a smile, moving the book closer to him, “so read. Please. If not for yourself, please do it for me.”

He reluctantly did so, moving his eyes off of you and onto the length paragraphs inside the book. Every now and then he would make a reluctant sound. Sometimes his leg would jitter too much, and hit the leg to your chair. You paid it no mind, and for some reason you enjoyed it–a smile on your face as you read another copy of the book. 

“Sirius, why’re you in the library? And reading as well, are you alright?”

You watched Sirius angle himself out of the corner of your eye towards what seemed to be another Fifth Year–just with shorter, brown hair. 

“Oh fuck off, it’s for an assignment.”

       “I’ve never seen you read for an assignment.” 

“I’ve already been attacked by this lass, I don’t need anymore from you.”

       “And who is this lass?”

And that’s when you meet James. It was a quick hello, but for some reason after that moment he would pop up everywhere. In the hallway, out in Hogsmeade, across the way while sitting at the dining tables in the great hall. It’s only been short smiles and waves until you bumped into him 

outside the Quidditch arena. He called out your name, wondering to you in his get-up. 

“James,” you breathed, “you play quidditch?” 

        “Yeah, just finished a game now. We won,” he smiled wide, leaning on his broom, “I take it you don’t care much for sports?”

“Sorry, no–but that’s wonderful. And what position do you play?”

        “Seeker.” 

You hummed, “well maybe I’ll come watch you sometime.” 

If it was possible, it looked like his smile grew. He reached back to pull someone from the crowd, “this is Remus. He comes to my games often. If you’d like someone to sit with so you’re not alone, he’s here.”

You smile at him, “alright, thank you.” 

And that’s how you meet Remus, unknowingly meeting all three of your soulmates within the span of a week. For whatever reason you never checked your wrist. You left your sleeve to cover the area, keeping the markings hidden from your sight. Unbeknownst to you, throughout the next few weeks you would be unaware of how each marking would fill in with color. With Sirius, there was a small dog head that filled with black whenever you were near him. James had a stag that filled with brown, and Remus had a wolf that filled with gray. All three imprints were small, huddled in close together on the underside of your wrist–just barely reaching over an inch in size. Through all the time you spent–going to the Three Broomsticks, attending their Quidditch games, and even sometimes encouraging a jinx on some rotten teacher. You would consider yourself friends–but the tinted markings on your wrist suggested otherwise. 

“Darling,” James called to you, “are you sure this is where you went?”

           “Yes,” you answered, stepping over an enlarged root, “I’m sure.”

“Just say you don’t trust her,” Sirius quips. 

         “I do, I just feel like we’ve passed by that stump over there before.”

You were leading the three of them into the forbidden forest after stating that just earlier on your walk to Hogsmeade you saw the mushrooms they were looking for in their potions recipe. They practically begged you, mainly Sirius, to be able to find such an ingredient after being banned from the ingredient cabinet in the classroom downstairs. You were sure the mushrooms were just on this corner, sitting just outside of the forest–but somehow you found yourself wandering through the shrubbery with the boys in tow. Everyone was confused. 

“Dove,” Remus started, moving closer to talk privately to you, “if you’re feeling a little fuzzy on where it's located, it’s okay to turn back around and re-evaluate. We are getting quite deep into the forest now.” 

       You stop, looking directly at him, “I swear it was here. The area is all the same basically. I’m sorry, I didn’t know I’d be leading everyone into nowhere.”

“No one’s upset. I had only brought it up because it’s getting dark outside. Might be best to head back and look tomorrow, we’re in no rush.”

           “Thank you,” you smiled, “I’ll make sure you all are able to complete that prank, promise. It just won’t be tonight.”

“I agree with heading back, I’ve heard that students get lost in the woods past dark,” Sirius said, arms resting on his hips. 

          James looks at him with a weird expression, “where’d you hear that?”

“Why I overheard some professors discussing it. Some couple came out here to make out and didn’t return.” 

           “I say we hurry back then so we don’t face their wrath,” James whispered, already taking the first step forward.

The forest had an earthy smell that got stronger when the moon started to arise as the forest began to cool. It was quite cold, the wind rushing through the swaying trees causing goosebumps to appear on your skin. James and Sirius were ahead this time, deep in discussion while you and Remus talked in the back. 

Two minutes into the walk–that was just starting to feel peaceful–a galloping sound was heard somewhere in the woods. You had enough time to look back when you felt the ground under you rumble, but none when a centaur came barreling through. One then another, then another appeared. They pushed through the area, not caring or not seeing the four of you standing there. 

Sirius moves from where he was leaning on a tree for protection, almost cheering, “that was fantastic.”

You wince from your place on the ground, trying to pick yourself up from where you had been knocked over. Behind you heard someone curse and another coming to help lift you up, “are you alright?”

        “I’m fine, just a few scratches is all,” you said, brushing the leaves and dirt off of your clothes, “is anyone hurt?”

You look around while James shushes you, “we’re fine, sweetheart. Just worried about you is all, looked like you fell pretty hard.”

       “Like I said I’m fine, especially after the fact I just saw a centaur.”

Your statement brought up a conversation, one that lasted until you all were back inside Hogwarts. Throughout the walk you were gripping your wrist, more specifically your shirt. During your fall, your wrist had snagged on something–tearing your shirt and the skin underneath. When you went to stand, you caught a glimpse of the cut–and the pigmented marks on your wrist. 

BORDER

You started to avoid them after that night. First it was pretty subtle, you had done a good job of convincing them and yourself that you weren’t removing yourself. You smiled their way, talked to them, but you declined offers to hangout. 

Just now they had invited you to join them on a walk over to Hogsmede because Remus wanted to get a new book–and you turned them down, saying you had elsewhere to be. 

“I don’t remember her being this busy,” Remus stated.

         “There’s no way she’s ignoring us,” Sirius conveyed, looking at the two of them nervously. 

That remark spiraled them. When you started to pull away more, they were sure their suspicions were true. You rushed past them, even said you were busy when on the map it showed that you were in your dorm room. 

You were ignoring the life-changing news that you found out last week, which translated into ignoring them and trying to keep busy to avoid accepting the truth–to avoid the confrontation of spilling the truth. That you were their soulmate. 

It broke you to find out because you didn’t want your time with them to end. Didn’t want the news of a soulmate to tear you four apart like it did with your mom and dad. To willingly remove yourself from three people who changed your life from the better was heart-wrenching. In some sick way, your mind tried to convince you it was better this way. They’d leave you like how your dad left your mom. Four people together? It’ll never work. Plus they seemed happier just the three of them. 

Today was Friday, a day you usually spent with them in Hogsmeade–but today you walked those streets by yourself. You had started to read a book at the library before deciding halfway through that you needed to buy it, the reason why you were in Hogsmeade. And just outside when you stepped back into the cold air, you ran chest-to-chest with Remus. 

“Gonna run away like you always do,” Sirius remarked, face cold, indifferent. He didn’t seem to care much when it made your face drop further than it already had, “it’s alright, you can leave–we understand. We know how highly you think of yourself now.” 

        “I don’t think that at all–” you start before stopping, looking at the others walking by on the street, “can we talk. Please.”

“So now you want to talk? That’s fucking rich. After all the times you’ve run away when we tried to talk to you, we have every right to leave you right here.”

         “You’re right, I don't,” you said, pushing down on the sadness that was already beginning to crawl up your throat. You tuned, but didn’t get far when a hand grabbed your wrist. 

“We’d love to talk to you,” Remus professes, “just after we move somewhere quieter.”

He guided you, moving towards a more secluded area by the river that ran through the small city. You were far enough from the crowds, but you all could hear the faint sounds of the street performer in the back. 

“So,” Sirius probes, “why have you been acting like we don’t exist?”

          “It’s not you, it’s me. Only recently my mom disclosed some information about my dad and why he left. It ruined my perspective on soulmates, made me believe they were all a hoax because why would you be destined with someone who’d do that to you? So I got scared when I found out I was yours. I didn’t want to ruin what we had. I thought surely it wouldn't work between us. Four people? How uncommon is that? Instead of giving it a chance or even communicating this to you–I ran away, and I shouldn't have. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

“To be honest I thought we all knew we were soulmates. I check mine often. When the third little design on my wrist glowed whenever you were around, I knew it was you and I told the others,” Remus added, “But we all should’ve communicated that. That’s on all of us.” 

Seeing the tears turn your eyes shiny Sirius sighs, moving forward to pull you into a hug, “why’re you crying, dollface? Sad that you got three attractive men as your forever partners.”

     Feeling his arms around you, the scent of him invading your senses makes the tears start to flow, “I just don’t want you to leave me.”

“We’re not leaving, not ever,” James proposed as he and Remus moved close to wrap their arms around the two of you. 

BORDER

You laughed at the feeling of James’ lips tickling your neck.

“Missed you a lot, sweetheart,” he mumbled into the skin, pulling himself closer, “one summer’s too long without you.”

The train’s cushions were comfortable, but they were barely enough to hold you and James–so when Sirius moved onto the seat, you were pushed up against the wall. He had expressed his excitement walking into the cabin, tossing his suitcase onto the other seat before wrapping himself around James’ back. 

“Fucking hell I’ve missed you.” 

He placed a kiss onto yours and Jame’s cheek before moving onto the other cushion, giving space for when Remus arrived. There was joy and excitement held in each other’s hearts, knowing you all got to see each other again after months of waiting. It was torture, and the letters did nothing. Remus was last, moving into the cart with a relaxed smile. Sirius had held out his hand, pulling him onto the seat so they could greet one another. 

“Mm, missed you loads,” Remus whispered, smiling against Sirius and looking over when he heard you laugh. 

You were continuing to try and move James away, trying to stop his attack on your neck. You were trying to spew words between your gasps and laughter, trying to move him off but the sounds of you laughing were too contagious.

“James, give the girl a rest. She looks like she’s going to implode.”

            “Fine fine,” he said, moving away, “oh hey Remus.” He says noticing the way he had opened the sliding door, eyeing everyone with a warmth in his expression. 

“Hi Prongs.”

You greeted him after, feeling yourself grow warm when you feel him press a kiss to your cheek. The both of you leaned back into the seat after, James wrapping an arm around you, “ready for another year at Hogwarts?”

       “Absolutely.” 

[nhlclover]

𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 | 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

word count: 2.50k

summary: in need of a date to your cousins wedding your mom suggests you take jack. i mean what could possibly go wrong if you ask your childhood crush to be your date?

warnings: drinking, kissing, maybe one swear word? idk

You sat in your cozy apartment, the soft glow of your phone illuminating the darkened room. It was your mother calling again, the persistent ringtone piercing through the quiet evening. You debated whether to pick up, knowing exactly what the conversation would turn into. Your cousin's wedding was coming up, and your mother's probes about your date—or lack thereof—were becoming increasingly insistent.

Knowing that if you didn’t answer the phone you would be on the receiving end of a passive-aggressive tirade from your mother, you answered.

“Hey, mom.” You said hesitantly.

“Y/n!” She squealed. “I can’t believe my daughter finally answered.”

You rolled your eyes at her attempt at a sly jab, although you didn’t let your tone convey your annoyance. “Sorry, I’ve been busy with work and everything.”

“Oh, of course, I understand.” Your mother said. “Well, I just wanted to chat about your cousin's wedding.”

You audibly groaned. She didn’t even say anything about a date yet, but you knew it was coming. “Mum, we’ve been over this. I’m not bringing a date to Katie’s wedding.”

“Why not, y/n?” She asked.

“I’m not seeing anyone and it would be weird to bring a stranger to her wedding.” You answered. “Plus, Katie said she wanted it to be small. Just people she knew. So I shouldn’t bring a random dude to her wedding.”

There was a beat of silence where you thought you had finally succeeded in getting her to stop nagging about the possibility of a date before she spoke again.

“Why don’t you ask Jack?” She suggested. “He’s such a sweet boy and Katie knows him! It’s perfect!”

“Mum!” You groaned, bringing a hand over your eyes.

“Why not?” She argued.

You hesitated, attempting to scrounge up an excuse. “Mum, I don’t even think he’s in town.”

“He is! I ran into Ellen and Jim a week ago. He and his brothers are in Michigan the whole summer.” She said.

Of course. You hesitated once again. You didn’t necessarily want to bring Jack to the wedding. It's nothing against Jack, but the thought of finding yourself in a romantic situation, or an event celebrating love like a wedding, made your palms sweat.

The pair of you became friends in childhood, attached at the hip through preschool, middle school and high school. Somewhere throughout your friendship, something shifted. His laughter echoed differently and his smile warmed you differently. It became harder and harder for you to deny the fluttering feeling that erupted in your stomach whenever your eyes met.

Your friendship evolved, but for you, it morphed into something more. You yearned for his presence and attention in a way that went well beyond the boundaries of a friendship. However, you kept your feelings buried deep down. You deemed it wasn’t worth the risk of losing a cherished friendship for the possibility of something more.

So, you continued to mask your true feelings behind a facade of platonic feelings, convinced it was enough to bask in his friendship.

“Fine.” You say reluctantly, knowing that if you didn’t ask him, your mom would end up asking him on your behalf. Your mother cheers with joy, then proceeds to fill you in on hometown gossip. The call ends an hour later, closing with her reminding you to call Jack.

──

Jack's contact sat open on your screen, your thumb hovering over the call button. The prospect of being in a romantic situation, especially at an event celebrating love like a wedding, sent a shiver down your spine and caused your palms to break out in a nervous sweat. However, you had to do it. Because if you didn’t, then your mother would be meddling in your love life, which was less than appealing.

You clicked the button, bringing your phone to your ear. The incessant ringing was like a lifeline, offering you a brief pause from the pressure of the moment, until finally, his familiar voice pierced through the silence, filling your ears with warmth and familiarity.

“Hey wassup y/n?” He asked. For a moment you’re taken aback by a rush of emotions.

“H-hey!” You said, forcing your voice to sound cheery, despite your nerves. “I have a question for you.”

“What’s up?” He says

“I was wondering if you wanted to be my date for a wedding?” You ask.

There was a beat of silence and your heartbeat picked up its pace. You decided to speak before Jack could give you an answer.

“It’s for my cousin Katie’s wedding and my mom has been on my ass about bringing a date, and I didn’t want to bring a random guy cause Katie’s been adamant about it being a small wedding of just people she knows and I-”

“Y/n?” Jack interrupted, his tone gentle but firm.

“Yeah?” You say softly.

“I’d love to be your date.” He says. Jack’s words washed over you like a wave of relief, sending a rush of warmth flooding through your veins.

“You would?” You say, slightly surprised.

“Yeah, of course. When’s the wedding?” He asked.

“Uhm, it’s August 3rd.” You tell him.

There’s another beat of silence as Jack checks his schedule. “You are in luck because I’m free.” Jack says. You let Jack know a few more details before hanging up. As the call ended, your stomach still fluttered with nerves, a strange mixture of excitement and anticipation swirling within you. Now, you were just counting down the days until the wedding.

──

You paced back and forth in the small room, checking the time every few seconds, waiting for the clock to hit 3:45. That was when you and Jack were supposed to head down to the ceremony venue. You had been ready for at least eight minutes now, nervously pacing as you awaited the knock.

With a knock on your hotel door, you grab your clutch, take a deep breath, and open the door. Jack is standing on the other side, wearing his dress clothes. He opens his mouth to speak but pauses as his eyes scan your figure and the gown you were wearing that accentuated your features. His eyes widened and, for a moment, he seemed at a loss for words.

“You… look amazing.” He stammers, cheeks flushing lightly.

You had to suppress the wide grin that was tugging on your lips. “Thanks.” You replied, a blush creeping onto your cheeks. “Shall we go?”

Jack sticks out his arm, hooking yours into his, and heading down to the lobby to get in your awaiting Uber. As you enter the venue, you admire the flowers and other decor your cousin had chosen to decorate the chapel.

“Y/n!” You hear your mother shriek. You turn to the doors, seeing your mother walking hand in hand with your father.

“Hi, mama.” You say. Only when you separate do you realize that you and Jack have been arm-in-arm with one another since you left the hotel.

They greet Jack, your mom shooting you a not-so-subtle wink as he shakes hands with your dad. You roll your eyes, trying to usher Jack away from your parents and to your seats. The ceremony passes in a blur of smiles and whispered conversations. You and Jack stole glances at each other whenever you thought the other wasn't looking, your hearts racing with unspoken feelings.

At the reception, you find yourselves on the dance floor nearly the whole time. You two are by no means the best of dancers, in fact far from it. You dance opposite each other, tossing out your best moves, laughing at the other's best attempt at staying on rhythm. You knew you were embarrassing yourselves, but your spirits were high, fueled by the several flutes of champagne you’d both consumed.

You’re The One That I Want played, Jack and you dancing. Jack spins you out before pulling you back. You laugh as you trip over your own feet, stumbling into his arms. The pair of you laugh in sync as you stumble off the dancefloor.

“Man, we are bad dancers.” Jack laughs.

“I think I stepped on your feet multiple times.” You say, trying to catch your breath.

The song morphs into ‘Crazy Love’ by Van Morrisson, with couples flocking to the dance floor. You were going to take the opportunity of a slow song playing to get another drink and rest your feet after dancing the whole evening thus far. Just as you move to step away, there’s a gentle hand on her arm.

“Do you… would you like to dance?” Jack asks softly. His eyes search your face for any signs of hesitation.

Surprise washed over you, mingled with a hint of relief. You hadn’t expected him to ask you to dance to a slow song. You came to this wedding as friends after all. But, there was a part of you that was silently hoping throughout the whole reception that Jack would ask you to dance.

“Of course.” You reply, smiling gently.

Jack extended a hand, drawing you to the dancefloor. As the two of you stepped onto the dancefloor, it was as if the rest of the world floated away, leaving the two of you in an isolated moment. The unfamiliar feeling of Jack’s hand on your waist sends tingles down your spine. As you swayed to the music together, the distance between the two of you disappeared till there was barely an inch separating your bodies.

Looking up at his face, a small smile tugs on his lips. His eyes flicker across your face, landing on your lips.

The voice of Van Morrisson ends and ‘Sweet Caroline’ by Neil Diamond begins to play, ripping the pair of you from your moment of bliss. Your arms falter from one another.

Suddenly, your mom is by Jack’s side, saying that people want to meet your date. Jack is whisked away and put into conversation with your aunt. He shoots you a brief glance, eyes portraying a bit of nervousness. You can only chuckle at him and leave him to deal with the combination that is your mom and aunt.

“Hey there y/n/n.” Says Katie, sidling up to you.

“Katie!” You beamed, arms wrapping around your cousin. “You look so beautiful, I’m so happy for you two.”

She thanks you, flashing a bright smile. “So… Tell me about the boy that your mom seems to think is about to become her son-in-law.”

“Oh my god.” You roll your eyes. “That’s Jack, he’s just a friend.”

You explain the situation to her, receiving a skeptical eye when you finish explaining. “That is not what it looks like. For both of you.”

You push down a smile, looking towards Jack who is engrossed in conversation with your mom. And in that moment, as you watched him laughing and joking with your family, you couldn't deny the truth that lay beneath the surface. Your feelings for Jack ran deep. With every passing moment that you spent with Jack, they got stronger and stronger.

As the night wore on, you kept dancing, mingling with your family. Your laughter and smiles maintained the facade that there was nothing more to your feelings.

Finally, you and Jack hit your limits, feeling on the verge of passing out from exhaustion. You bid goodnights to the remaining guests, deciding to do the short walk to the hotel. Still donning your heels and under the influence of several glasses of champagne, you found yourself tripping over the uneven concrete.

Jack slips his hand into yours, stabilizing you. “I don’t need you bashing your face on the concrete.”

As you walked, hand in hand, conversation flowed easily between the two of you. You made your way into the hotel and up to your floor. Standing in between your respective doors, you find yourself reluctant to let go, your fingers still intertwined with his.

“Thank you again for coming, it meant a lot.” You say, “And thank you for dealing with my mom, I’m sorry for whatever she and my aunt said to you.”

Jack chuckles, shaking his head. “I had fun, I’m glad you invited me.” He says.

You wrap your arms around his torso, giving a quick squeeze. As you separate, Jack's fingers linger on your waist briefly, giving you hope that maybe this wasn’t goodnight. Despite that, he reaches into his pants pocket, pulls out his key card and heads into his room.

“Night.” You say over your shoulder, stepping into your room and shutting the door behind you.

You huffed, tossing your clutch onto the bed. Now alone in your room, you found yourself unable to shake the memory of your shared dance. The feeling of Jack’s hand on your waist still tingling on your skin. Meanwhile, across the hall, Jack couldn't shake the image of you from his thoughts, your laughter echoing in his ears and her presence filling the empty space around him.

Unable to resist the pull any longer, you found yourself drawn to the door, your heart pounding in your chest as you crossed the hallway to Jack's room. Before you could second-guess yourself, you raised your hand and knocked softly on the door, your pulse racing with anticipation.

Jack opens the door, brows furrowing at the sight of you. He had abandoned his tie, dress shirt fully unbuttoned. You glanced at his torso briefly, but Jack caught the glimpse. Your words get caught in your throat and you blurt out the only words that were coming to mind.

“I’m stuck.” You say.

Jack cocks his head to the side, leaning against the door frame.

“M-my dress.” You clarify. “I can’t reach the zipper, can you help?”

Jack clears his throat. “Oh, uh, yeah.”

You turn around, sweeping your hair over your shoulder so that Jack can access the zipper. You feel him slowly tug on the zipper, the fabric separating and exposing your bare back inch by inch. The fabric parts, teasingly revealing the soft contours of your skin. The opening stops just before your hips, leaving Jack on edge.

“You’re good.” Jack breathes. You turn around, the distance between you and Jack now only mere inches, Jack’s breath getting caught in his throat as your eyes meet.

Without a word, Jack’s hand is on your cheek, meeting your lips. His kiss is delicate at first, apprehensive as he is unsure how you feel. Your heart thundered in your chest, melting into Jack's embrace. His hands go to your waist as yours go to his hair, your fingers tangling in his soft waves. Despite being in an unfamiliar situation, you find his lips comforting and surrender yourself to the moment.

Jack reaches for the straps on your shoulders, sliding them off and letting the top of your dress fall down your chest. His hands slide onto your bare torso, lifting you slightly, and allowing you to hook your legs around his waist. He walks you briefly to the door, shutting it and cutting the rest of the world out.

[primehyuck]

MOVES

aka good things take time (the happy ending version)

word count: 11.3k

i first started writing this because i’ve been listening to the song Moves by Suki Waterhouse on repeat, but it became much more than that

contents: long time best friend!haechan, slice of life, pining and yearning, chronological time jumps (mostly college and young adulthood), other members mentioned (Mark and Jeno!roommates), kissing, fluff, wet dreams, a good example of two people who seriously need to communicate, face sitting, morning sex, lots of pet names

“Do you think we’ll be friends for a long time?” Haechan’s soft voice distracts your attempt to focus on a blade of the blurry ceiling fan, unable to keep you cool despite it spinning so fast you think it might fly away.

“How do you mean?” the bed squeaks when Haechan sits up to lean over you.

“Growing up, I feel like my parents didn’t have many friends aside from each other. My mom told me that it’s because when you get older your priorities change and you realize who adds value to your life, and that’s who you decide to keep.” His eyes are glowing with sincerity, body blocking the flow of air from touching you at all “so when we’re older, and married with kids and other priorities, and we maybe live in different cities, do you think we’ll still be friends?”

You stare at him for a moment before shoving his face out of the way of the fans air stream.

“Definitely,” your confidence soothes him enough that he lays back down “if I ever muster up the creativity to come up with a reason to stop being your friend, you have to swear you’ll tell me how stupid I’m being, swear to me.” you smack his chest before he can even answer.

“I swear!” He smiles to himself, staring up at the ceiling with you, rubbing his hand over the warm spot where your hand made contact, melting into the mattress.

———

Growing up people always joked that Haechan and you would fall in love, that it was inevitable, practical even. Because, if you fall in love with your best friend you’ve already conquered one of the highest mountains - finding someone that you like, and who likes you back.

You had both seen the other in a relationship, an inevitability when you’ve been friends with someone since puberty. He’d cheered you on when you had your first kiss during a game of spin the bottle in high school, forced you to come out on double dates with him and a friend of his you didn’t even like just so he could take someone else out, and freshman year of college he’d even introduced you to the person you'd lost your virginity to.

The only time he cockblocked you was when you tried to get to know any of his friends more than platonically, so eventually you gave up and settled for real friendship with all of them.

“Trust me, you don’t want to touch him with a six foot pole.” He’d said freshman year when you had mentioned your attraction to his roommate, Mark.

“He seems so nice, though.” you pouted

“He is nice, but that doesn’t mean you want to be with him.”

“How would you know what I want?” you scoffed, and he looked at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Has the wind beneath my wings ever led you into the wrong arms?” He was highly animated, offended that you would question his judgment.

By the start of sophomore year it was obvious to everyone else that you were strictly off limits. All of his friends had decided unanimously that even if you did attempt anything with them they had no choice but to shut you down. The cold stare Haechan unknowingly serves them from across the room whenever they got too close was enough to keep them away. None of the boys ever minded the boundaries with you, there always was an ease in your friendship since they all knew it could never go further, but that didn’t mean they never thought about the possibility.

One night, at the end of junior year, Haechan is nowhere to be found at his own party and you graciously accept Jeno’s invitation upstairs when you complain of a headache, “we can play Mario Kart, and it won’t be all competitive like when Haechan plays with us.”

It starts like normal, and you're having fun when you realize that your tipsy brain can’t focus on the screen and the conversation simultaneously, opting for the latter as you relax into Jeno’s pillows. You don’t even notice him inching closer to you until his nose touches yours, tugging at a strand of your hair. This is the first time any of Haechan’s friends have shown interest in you, you’d never even been on the receiving end of a flirtatious stare from across the beer pong table, so you take the reins.

Kissing Jeno feels a little bit like winning, like you’ve finally made it past the invisible forcefield Haechan had put up around his friends. The kiss is lazy and hot, Jeno props himself up on one elbow and presses your back into the mattress with his chest. Your eager fingers run beneath his shirt, his abs tightening when you trail them over his sides. Your spine tingles when he groans into your mouth, the hand on your cheek moving to grip your knee and hike your leg over his hip. His hand holds strong around your thigh, and you sigh when he grinds into you.

Jeno pulls away too soon, stopping your hands reaching for the hem of his shirt with a pained sigh as he drops your leg to roll onto his back, flinging an arm over his eyes.

“Fuck, I should not be doing this with you.”

“Why, you don’t want to?” You want to curl into yourself, sitting up to stare down at his shaking head.

“No, definitely not that.” he pulls his arm away to meet your eyes, the alcohol in his veins making him brave enough to admit “Haechan would be pissed.”

“Haechan?” you question “did he say something to you?” Jeno groans, sitting up and hooking his elbows around his knees, staring at the mattress between his legs.

“No, no. He’s never actually said anything,” he knows he’s revealing too much, but he also knows he’s gone too far to stop “we just know he would never want us to cross that line with you.”

“We?” you can feel embarrassment bubbling in your chest at the idea of all of your friends talking about this.

“Yeah, you know, all the guys. We figured you were just off limits, I don’t know.” he grimaces, looking up at you with apologetic eyes when you don’t respond. You huff and climb off the bed, feeling rejected in more ways than one.

You’d crossed a boundary tonight, but Jeno was still a close friend, someone you’d spent a lot of time with since he met Haechan freshman year. He still knows you, so he grabs your wrist before you can leave, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed so he can stand you between his legs.

“I’m sorry, don’t be mad.” He envelops your hands in his and brings them to his chest.

“I’m not mad,” you mumble, avoiding his apologetic gaze “I’m embarrassed that all of my friends agreed not to touch me.”

“Did you really think not a single one of us was ever interested in you?” you shrug and he squeezes your hands tighter, heart tugging in his chest.

“When people don’t act interested, that’s usually a safe assumption.” you pout and Jeno’s laugh buzzes through your linked fingers "I gave up on all of you halfway through freshman year."

“Well, some of us are better actors than I remember.”

He has you laughing by the time you leave his room, sealing the night with one more self indulgent kiss and a pinky swear to never tell Haechan about what happened.

———

Halfway through the first semester of senior year Haechan bangs angrily on his roommates door before swinging it open and Jeno is genuinely shocked that it's taken this long for the gossip to hit his ears. The rest of the boys had clocked Jeno the next morning for being ‘too happy’ and he had to make them all swear not to tell, wanting to protect your pride and his own friendship with Haechan.

"You slut!" Haechan points an accusatory finger in Jeno's direction, dragging his feet slowly toward him until he's so close Jeno has to bat his hand out of his face.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about." Haechan's voice is low and angry, something new and unpleasant sparking in his gut at the idea of Jeno kissing you, touching you.

"No, I don't." Jeno can’t help but antagonize. Pleased with the perfect opportunity to trick Haechan into saying out loud what everyone else seems to have known for years.

"You kissed my best friend!" He shrieks, tossing his hands up in the air dramatically.

"So what, she's not allowed to kiss people?" Haechan squints his eyes at Jeno’s response, scrunching his nose in annoyance “how did you even find out?”

"She can kiss whoever she wants, it's all of you that aren't allowed to kiss her." Haechan waves his hand wildly toward the bedroom door, alluding to the large group of boys living in the house “you know Mark can’t keep a secret, he’s been bursting at the seams for months. All I had to do was ask.”

"It happened forever ago dude, why are you so pissed? You've never even given us a chance to get close to her in that way, maybe one of us could really like her." Jeno reasons, tugging at Haechan's strings, watching the gears in his brain turn as he tries to come up with a real argument.

"She has a boyfriend," Haechan finally says with a frown at the thought of the guy he’d only recently met, he doesn’t like him at all. From his stupid hair to the shoes he wears, there’s not a thing about your new boyfriend that Haechan thinks is good enough for you. He collapses into the gaming chair across from where Jeno is relaxed on the couch, not having moved at all since Haechan stormed in "plus, I think any of you would know by now, you've all known her for four years."

"I think, that it can take a lot longer than four years to realize how much you like someone." Jeno bites, "how long have you known her?"

"Since middle school." He picks at the hole in the knee of his black jeans, realizing what Jeno is alluding to, defensive exterior quickly crumbling.

"Right, I think that if you're blind enough then it can take ten years to realize how much you like someone."

"Well, maybe ten years is too long and that person missed their chance." Haechan turns his head to stare out the window, anxiously spinning the chair side to side.

"You know I'm talking about you, right?"

"God, yes, I know you're talking about me." Haechan glares at his friend, fidgeting stopping abruptly "and I know I've been a complete idiot about it, but like I said, I’m out of time."

———

Haechan can’t stop his free hand from clenching and unclenching as you sob into your pillow, his less angry hand rubbing over your back.

“He told me he saw us moving in together after graduation,” your voice shakes “how do you look someone in the eyes and say shit like that and then sleep with someone else?”

“I don’t know,” Haechan replies earnestly, feeling as helpful as flip flops in the snow from where he sits on the edge of your mattress “I’m so sorry.”

He takes your silence as an invitation, lying on his stomach, face turned toward you, fingers still drawing soothing circles over your shoulder blades. He waits patiently for you to calm down, unease swarming his stomach knowing that even after years of friendship he can’t truly comfort you in this moment.

“I’m so embarrassed.” you sniffle, smearing your face over your pillow before turning to look at him. He holds his breath, waiting for you to collect yourself enough to explain.

“I’m so gullible, he even told me he’s cheated in the past and for whatever reason I believed that he’d treat me differently, that he’d love me enough.” Haechan has to count to five in his head to stay calm before he speaks.

“You have no reason to be embarrassed. The most natural thing you can do is believe someone when they say they love you.” He murmurs, turning onto his side so he can pull you into a hug. When you curl into his body to bury your face in his chest he can only pray you can’t hear his heart pound against his ribs.

“He’s an idiot, and he didn’t deserve any of the love you gave him. I promise, you’re so much better off.”

Haechan hates the piece of himself that’s relieved your relationship has ended. The same piece that hated your ex the minute he met him, that feels heavy in your absence whenever you’re busy with anyone who isn’t him. The piece that crosses it’s fingers whenever you get this close in hopes that you’ll be the first one to cross the line, to finally do what he’s thought about doing for the last few months since he realized exactly how he felt about you.

“Thank you,” you mumble into his tear dampened shirt, lifting your leg over his to cuddle in even closer “thanks for always being my friend, even when I do dumb shit, like let boys be mean to me.”

He nuzzles his nose into your scalp, eyes fluttering shut at the smell of your shampoo “Thanks for letting me. Besides, even Beyoncé got cheated on, so you clearly aren’t that dumb.” the crowd in his brain cheers when you giggle into his chest.

“You’re so annoying.” He holds you even tighter.

———

“I can’t believe it,” your jaw drops and Haechan whips his head up nervously to look at you from across the couch

“What happened?”

“I got it, I got the job!” you shove his feet off your lap to jump up excitedly, bouncing on your toes as you read the email out loud. Haechan’s ears are ringing so loud he barely catches the first half, trying to shake off the dazed look he’s sure appears on his face.

“We were extremely impressed with your resume and even more so with the impression you left on the board during your interview, blah blah blah, excited to offer you this position, blah blah blah, and a relocation bonus to join us in in our new office!” the pitch of your voice rises a few octaves as you finish reading.

Haechan stares at you from his spot on the couch, eyes wide with shock that you’re too excited to notice, skimming your screen as you re-read the details in your offer letter.

His entire body is buzzing, torn between feeling excited at your accomplishment and sorry for himself.

He had a plan, a really good one, he thought. After your breakup you’d made it painfully clear that you wanted to be single for a while, and he knew if he could just be patient, it would all be worth it. So Haechan decided to bottle his feelings up, sitting patiently by your side where he had been for so many years, waiting for you to heal and hoping that when you were finally ready to start dating again he’d have mustered up the courage to make the first move.

“Lee Donghyuck, are you even listening to me!?” you drop your phone to pull him up off the couch, bouncing up and down with your fingers intertwined “I’m moving to my dream city, to start my dream job.” you reiterate and he snaps out of it, sweeping the imaginary shards of glass that his plan had been made out of under the rug and pulling you into a hug.

“That’s amazing, I’m so proud of you.”

“Your enthusiasm is overwhelming.” You deadpan, but squeeze him back just as tight.

“I’m sorry, I’m going to miss you is all.” He admits, "I'd follow you if my job didn't keep me here."

“I’ll make sure you don’t miss me too much, don’t worry.” you plant your cheek on his chest, surprised at the relief you feel in hearing him say it first.

———

This feeling was still a little unfamiliar, nerves. Haechan had never made you nervous growing up; excited, annoyed, passionate maybe, but never nervous.

The nerves began last summer, when he’d come out to visit you for the first time to celebrate his birthday. It was the longest you’d gone without seeing each other since you’d met, almost ten full months and the anticipation was palpable.

When he steps through the airport doors you think that it’s the relief of finally being near him again that knocks the wind out of you. Running into his open arms and being squeezed so tightly in them that you tap his shoulder to let you breathe. Ruffling his hair when he steps back and ignoring the fact that he had grown so much since you’d seen him last.

But as the night goes on, the slight changes to the person you have memorized become glaringly obvious. The way his cheeks have lost some of their cushion, revealing a sharp jaw and pointed cheekbones. The natural wave in his once unruly hair now falling perfectly over his brow bone, he had dyed it a little darker which made his tan skin glow even in dim lighting. Even his smell seemed to draw you into a trance, a much more expensive version of the Haechan you know.

“You know, that group of girls has been staring over at you since we walked in.” You raise your eyebrows playfully, pointing your glass toward the pretty gaggle that keeps walking past the booth you and Haechan occupy.

He doesn’t break eye contact with you before shrugging, “I didn’t come here to see them, I came to see you.” he smiles, punctuating his thought by reaching over the table and tapping your nose.

“I know, I know,” you laugh, batting him away “It never hurts to know when people are staring, though”

His face is unreadable as he rests his arm lazily up over the bench of the booth, body sinking into the seat while he lifts his glass to swirl his drink, biting the words that have been resting on the tip of his tongue the entire trip, and at the end of every phone call since you started your new job.

“How are you, seriously.” You push. In the time since you moved he’d started and ended a relationship with a girl that you’d never met. Your new job kept you so busy that you hadn’t even learned about the breakup until a week later, when you finally had the time to call him back. The guilt of your absence weighs you down, resenting your inability to be there for him the way he had been for you in the past.

“I’m over it, seriously.” You know he’s telling the truth, but it’s in your nature to pry.

“You never really talked about, why, you know.”

“Do I have to?”

“No, I’m sorry, I just feel so behind on your life.” You sigh and push your empty glass to the side, swirling your finger in the ring of cold water it leaves behind.

“It’s okay, really. You’ve been busy, I understand.” He reaches across the table to stop your anxious fingers “I didn’t love her the way I knew I should, that’s all. It’s a good thing that it ended, and I’m happy that it did.”

“That’s all that matters, then.” and he’s grateful that you drop the subject.

You eventually get back to your apartment, both giggly and flush from the alcohol still fogging your brain despite the long walk you'd hoped would lessen it. Haechan holds your hand the whole way back, even when he stops suddenly to pet a dog, dragging you down to the ground with him. He can’t help himself, grateful that at this point you'd touched one another in every way other than what he dreams about most, and you seem oblivious to his need to be so close to you.

As you get ready for bed he lets himself watch you undress facing the wall away from him, unaware of his gaze burning into your backside and the way his fingers tingle at the thought of pulling at the meat of your hips. He scolds his heart for thudding so loud when you squeeze your eyes into a smile at his reflection standing next to yours at the sink while you brush your teeth, the domestication of your friendship that he used to appreciate now suffocating him.

You put on a movie and invite him to rest his head on the pillow in your lap, wishing he could bury his nose into the skin of your thighs beneath it. Halfway through the movie he has to sit up to hide the way his cock is hardening at the feeling of your nails combing through his hair and down his shoulder, occasionally thrumming over his chest. He pulls a blanket off the back of the couch and tosses it over his legs as casually as possible, pulling you into his side by your shoulder, the other arm stretched across the back of the couch.

"Are you cold for the first time in your life?" Haechan never wants to use a blanket, but you’re grateful for the position giving you access to bury your face into his chest, gripping his shirt.

"No, just want to be warmer." he presses a blushing cheek onto the top of your head, trying to think of anything except the way your hair smells, or the feeling of the side of your breast brushing his wrist through your shirt. Haechan feels eighteen again and like he's discovering the connection between romantic and sexual feelings for the first time in his life. He tries to match his breathing to yours, holding his breath whenever you shift in his hold and reconnecting his stomach with your back as quickly as possible. The temptation to pour his heart out is overwhelming, but when he feels your body completely relax into his and your breathing slow down, the words become trapped in his throat, so he lets you sleep.

Haechan had never experienced a shorter 48 hours than that weekend he spent following you around the city you now call home.

You’re shining in your new space, and he happily trails behind you to all the places you’ve discovered in the almost year since you moved. His stomach does somersaults whenever you point something out that reminds you of him.

“I’ve been waiting to come here until you could come with me!” you're so excited to take him to the video game themed coffee shop that your co-workers had recommended “I thought about coming to see if it was even worth it, but I only want to play these kinds of games with you anyway.”

Sometimes he can forget about his feelings for you, when things are just as they always have been. You talk with and touch him the same, laugh at his jokes the same. He thinks that if he were to ever say out loud what he’s been feeling, that the two of you would still be the same but with a little More, ‘you guys’ but on steroids. So when everything is normal he can pretend like it‘a not. He can act like the More is there when you hold his hand to drag him around to the different machines, play games he wants to play even if you don’t want to, you even wipe ice cream off of his chin when his cone starts to melt because he’s talking too much to eat and he wonders why it took him so long to see it this way, and if you could too.

He keeps thinking the moment will come, when he’ll know spilling his guts to you is the right thing to do. But between you gushing over how much you love your new life and your willingness to point out every girl who has blinked at him this weekend, he completely loses the steam he’d gained during his flight, regardless of how his imagination runs wild with the More.

He curses himself the entire weekend for his lack of bravery, hoping that keeping his feelings in is the right decision. After his recent relationship crashed and burned because of his feelings for you he thought he had no choice but to come clean. But watching you, being with you in your new life makes him realize that his role in it hasn’t changed even if his feelings for you have.

The lump in his throat as he stands outside the departure doors is more than just sadness at the thought of leaving you, it’s the realization that he has to let the romantic idea of you go.

“How come you never cry when we have to leave each other,” you hiccup into his chest, and he coos your name lovingly.

“Don’t worry, you know I save my tears for the plane to make everyone in my row uncomfortable.” He knows that you hate that he’s making you laugh at a time like this, pulling away so you can swat his chest and he raises his hands in surrender.

“When will we be able to see each other again?”

“As soon as possible.” He nods reassuringly, wiping your tears with his thumb, heart pounding as he stares into your watering eyes “hey, you’re my best friend in the world, you annoy me every day, and I love you.”

“Whatever, I love you too.” you laugh, but his heart speeds up at the words that you’ve said to him thousands of times. You sweep your arms around him one last time before pushing him toward the airport doors “you better go, if you miss your flight I can’t guarantee I’ll let you leave at all.”

“Don’t tempt me.” He walks backwards slowly, staring at you with a ‘kicked puppy’ kind of face he mastered years ago and you wave enthusiastically, blowing loud kisses into the air that he catches and clutches to his heart.

“This is it,” he thinks, “this has to be it.”

———

Haechan is dreaming about you. He has been nightly ever since he got back from his birthday weekend. He’s grateful the dreams have variety, since some of them overwhelm him to the point of waking up and not being able to fall back asleep.

Sometimes, you’re young again and whenever anyone says “You know, it’s just a matter of time until one of you has a crush on the other.” you both theatrically gag, laughing at each other as if it were the most insane idea in the world. Or, you're sitting on his childhood couch watching your guys' favorite movie for the hundredth weekend in a row, vocalizing the parts of the two main characters and recreating all the best scenes.

Sometimes you’re at his apartment just hanging out together, which are dreams that feel so real he almost expects to see you in his kitchen when he wakes up. Most of these dreams spark a deja vu laced flame in his gut so deep he finds himself confusing them with memories. The ache of missing you wakes him up before his alarm some mornings, and he finds himself face timing you once he knows you're awake just to watch you make coffee and wash your face.

But sometimes, he has dreams that make him feel so ashamed he can barely text you back in the morning. Dreams where he reaches to touch you and you let him, where you tug at his hair and moan his name while he does all the things that he can only do to you in his sleep. He hates to say that these are his favorite, but it's the one dream he knows he'll never actually achieve and he goes to bed every night praying for them.

That’s the kind of dream he’s having when his phone buzzes him awake. He answers without looking because there are only a handful of people who can reach him when he’s on ‘do not disturb’, and you’re one of them. He hums a sleepy greeting into his phone, putting it on speaker next to his pillow and nearly drifting right back into the dream and between your thighs.

“Donghyuck” his eyes shoot open at the sound of your voice “did i wake you up?”

He can practically hear the pout in your voice, squinting at the time on his phone, “Yes, it’s three in the morning,” he stares down to where he’s half hard, running an embarrassed hand over his face even though there’s no possible way for you to know “are you okay?”

“No, well technically yes but I miss you which means things could be better.” you slur your words and Haechan smiles, somehow he's never annoyed that you call him pretty much every time you drink. He thinks it's because he's familiar with this version of you, though he definitely hasn't seen it often since college graduation. This version of you loves him hard, and is never afraid to say it.

"I miss you too," he takes a beat before adding "I was dreaming about you just now."

You gasp excitedly "Really! What were we doing." He smirks at the thought of telling you that you had been sitting on his face, hand reaching back for his cock while he guides your cunt over his tongue until you were shaking above him.

"Just, hanging out." he shrugs. It's his second time this week alone dreaming of your clit bumping his nose, and the thought makes his mouth water.

"I don't believe you." You say accusingly "that's way too boring for a mind like yours to dream up."

"What exactly is my mind like?" He yawns, throwing his forearm over his eyes.

"Oh, you know," you hum "your mind is a galaxy, with at least a billion planets and twice as many stars. I wish I could fly into your head and explore it, but NASA doesn't have the funds."

Haechan holds his breath at your compliment, the smile on his face so wide he can hear it in his own voice "That sounds like an episode of Magic School Bus."

"Your brain is definitely cooler than some cartoon, it's pretty much my favorite place on Earth."

"How would you know, you've never actually been inside?" He shakes his head, teasing you gently. Hearing words like these come out of your mouth breaks his heart and glues it back together at the same time.

"Are you saying you never think about me?" you ask him, not an ounce of sarcasm in your voice.

"I think about you all the time, I promise, all the planets in my brain are shaped like you." You hum, pleased with his response. He shuts his eyes and waits for your answer.

"Yeah, all the planets in mine are shaped like you, too." you pause for a second and add "plus all the stars, I win, I think about you more."

———

This time when Haechan comes to visit you, you know the nerves are more than just excitement at seeing your best friend. It’s a feeling that is nestled so deep in your stomach it makes you a little nauseous. You haven't seen him since you went home for the holidays and he only has one night in the city. You find yourself grueling over your reflection in the mirror, not used to being self conscious in front of him. You’re only going out for happy hour, but you put yourself together to last all night.

When Haechan finally arrives he whistles lowly, making you blush when he pulls out of your hug and requests a spin.

“I appreciate that you got so dressed up for me.” He teases, hoping you don’t catch his eyes sweeping over your legs, wanting to commit you in this dress to memory.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you roll your eyes as if you hadn’t spent the last two hours making sure you looked as perfect as possible. Hoping he doesn’t see the pile of clothes shoved into your closet from all the failed attempts.

“Never,” he grabs your purse off of the counter and opens the door, sweeping his arm out in front of him dramatically “after you. There are some strangers outside who are waiting to catch a glimpse of you, they just don’t know it yet.”

“You are so dramatic.” You lock the door behind you, using the moment facing away from him to collect yourself. Lately you catch yourself wondering if he'd always been so flirtatious, or if you're just forcing meaning behind his words because of how badly you want him to be.

“What, a guy can’t compliment his best friend?”

You smile widely at him and grab your bag out of his grasp, popping your key inside and walking toward the entrance of your building. Praying your fingers stop shaking when you finally get a drink in you. Haechan throws his arm around your shoulders while you walk down the street to your favorite cocktail bar and you're grateful for his usual chatter, talking to you about work and his slow climb up the ladder.

“They put me in a hotel this time, so you don’t have to worry about making me breakfast in the morning.” He smiles at you, sipping his drink gingerly.

“You know I never cook you breakfast.” He feels so far away across the table and you wish that you were sitting next to him instead, shoulders cold without the weight of his arm around them. It feels so good to have him touch you, to feel like you're his. There's a small part of you that feels guilty for using his knack for physical affection to your advantage, he has no idea what the heat of his skin on yours does.

“I know, but all the meetings are in the hotel anyway so it’s easier this time to just stay there.”

You try not to let yourself visibly deflate at the news, wanting to keep him for yourself the whole time he’s in town. His knee presses against yours under the table and you focus all your energy into acting the way you would have before, but you can’t focus on anything else and cross your legs to pull away from him as casually as possible. As badly as you want to touch him, sometimes you can’t.

“What time do you have to be up?”

He groans, leaning back enough that his knee now slides against your shin, “too early,” and glances down at his now empty glass, motioning to the bartender for another “which means you need to drink faster, so I can stop at a reasonable hour.”

You smile, downing the rest of your drink in one gulp, when his foot taps against yours you know it's going to be a long night.

The end of the night finds you together on your couch with a shared bottle of wine sitting empty on the coffee table, his early meetings temporarily forgotten. You and Haechan have been in this position plenty of times, drunk, slap happy and overly touchy in a way that you had always been comfortable being with one another. The difference now is you, this version of you who wants your best friend in an entirely different way.

Every time he pulls you closer you feel electricity shoot straight to your heart so intensely that you have to duck out of his grasp. You don’t know what to do with the feelings that have been growing gradually from your toes up, now practically sprouting out of your scalp with a neon sign blinking “I’m in love with you” over and over.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Haechan whines when you all but flinch away from his hand reaching for his phone near your arm. He’d been aware of it all night, the space you left between the two of you while you walked back from the bar, your sudden inability to maintain the eye contact that he craved. The complete lack of physical touch makes him feel dejected.

“Doing what?” You give him a panicked look, practically sober at the thought of being found out, of what it would feel like to be rejected by him.

“You’re not letting me touch you,” he frowns, and the alcohol buzzes through your veins again “not that you need to let me, but you only avoid it like this when you’re upset. Did I do something?” he pouts, tired eyes low when he flops his head onto his bicep resting on the back of the couch. You forget to breathe for a second when he looks up at you under dark lashes.

“I’m not upset. I wasn’t doing it on purpose.” you’re lying through your teeth, but scoot an inch closer to him to make your point. He doesn’t look convinced, and if you’d had less to drink you may have noticed the mischievous glint in his eye before he grabs you by your arm, knocking you off balance and into his chest.

“See,” he sighs happily, wrapping his arms around your body and you can feel his chest buzz when he hums, cheek pressed to the top of your head. You have no choice but to ungracefully shift your lower body closer to him, making yourself a sponge and soaking in his familiar touch “isn’t that better?”

You nod, “Yes, it is better.” and you really wish he didn’t know you so well, that even in his fifth hour of being drunk he can read your mind. He pulls your ear off his heart to grab your cheeks, smushing them together and whispering your name with a shake of his head.

“What is it?” he urges, and you wrap your fingers around his wrist to loosen his grip. You shut your eyes, take a deep breath and count to three in your head before you can talk yourself out of leaning forward and pressing your lips to his.

You feel him falter for a half second before he’s kissing you back, pulling your face closer and pushing his body toward yours. You can’t hear anything over the blood rushing in your ears when his tongue touches yours, and then suddenly his mouth is gone. He moves so quick you have to put your arms out to stop yourself from face planting into the cushion he had just been sitting on.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” you gasp “i shouldn’t have done that, Haechan, I’m so sorry.”

It takes everything in you to look up to where he’s now standing with his arms crossed over his chest protectively. You have no idea what he’s thinking, staring down at you with wide eyes. Insecurity sweeps through you under his intense gaze, and you almost beg him to say something.

“I’m seeing someone,” the way the confession rings in your ears would have you believing that he screamed the words, but his voice was barely above a whisper “shit, I’m sorry.”

You aren’t sure if it’s your life that flashes before your eyes, or your years of friendship with him, at this point the two tend to blur together.

“That’s-” you sit back on your calves and inhale shakily, knowing it’s not even worth it to attempt to fake any sort of excitement for him “why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugs, swallowing thickly and pulling his eyes away from your face to stare at the ceiling “It’s new and I didn’t know how. It just never came up.”

“Well then, I’m sorry that it didn’t. I shouldn’t have done that, I don’t know what came over me.” grateful that he’s finally the one avoiding eye contact with you so he doesn’t see your legs wobble when you stand “probably best to pretend that never happened. I’m just drunk and I missed you-”

Your name sounds so pathetic when he says it this time and you think it’s the eighth wonder of the natural world that you haven’t started crying yet. You shake your head instead, wishing so desperately that you had changed out of the dress you were wearing as you pull the slinky material down your thighs.

“Honestly, Haechan,” You regret your next words before they even hit the air “you should probably go. You have an early morning.”

The shock on his face pains you, but you can’t stand to see what you can only assume is pity growing in his eyes for another second.

“I don’t want to go, I want to talk about this.”

“I’m sorry.” you say again and his shoulders slump in defeat, recognizing that you’d made up your mind.

“It’s okay.” He means it, shuffling forward and the look on your face is nearly enough to bring him to his knees. His breath catches when you shift away the inch he moved toward you, eyes locked on his and he can see the desperation in them before he hears it in your voice.

“Text me when you get to the hotel?” your voice cracks with a heavy mix of exhaustion and embarrassment that makes him nods once, grabbing his things and walking slowly toward your door. He turns to look at you, but his words catch in his throat when he sees your eyes begin to water, mustering up all his energy to offer what he prays is a reassuring smile before letting himself out.

You sink back into the couch when the door clicks shut, head hanging in your hands as the tears finally start to flow. You cry so hard you feel like you could throw up, replaying his rejection over and over in your mind, shame and regret coursing through your veins. Pure embarrassment heats your body at the look on his face when he told you he was seeing someone, and you’re not sure if it was disgust or pity in his eyes.

On top of the rejection, knowing that he didn’t feel like he could share something as big as meeting someone with you was a dagger to the heart, up until recently you had never kept a secret from him, and even this one you clearly couldn’t keep in for long.

You force yourself into the shower, scrubbing angrily at your skin under the scalding water. You get out once your fingers have pruned and your skin feels raw, avoiding the mirror on your way to your bedroom. You kick angrily at the dress you'd left on the floor, watching it land near the pile of outfits you had discarded while getting ready.

Haechan had texted you nearly thirty minutes earlier

“made it back”

you give it a thumbs up before turning your phone off, setting an alarm with the clock on your side table and letting the emotional exhaustion lull you to sleep.

------

Haechan is realizing that there is no way in hell that you need space more than he needs to talk to you. He tries to call you multiple times the first week after you kissed him but you never answered, and Haechan doesn’t want to push you to the point of no return. What he really wants is to go back in time and not leave you that night, but the pain in your eyes was so pronounced he couldn't bare to make it any worse. The only physical proof that you had kissed him at all being the stupid blue thumbs up on the text he had sent you that night. It's followed by a slew of reassuring texts, saying that he broke up with his girlfriend and if you would please just talk to him, that he's not mad.

This is the feeling he carries with him nearly two weeks later on the flight to you, when he’s sure that another minute of silence from you will kill him. By the time he gets to your apartment it’s almost midnight, so he knocks loud enough to wake you up.

When you open the door in a shirt he thinks might be his, Haechan knows he has no choice. He's speaking before you can say anything, before he can change his mind.

"I came here to tell you that I think you're being really stupid." He curses internally for the obvious nerves in his voice, your tired eyes widen with shock at his words.

"Excuse me?"

"Years ago you made me swear that I would tell you if you ever came up with a reason not to be my friend anymore. So I'm telling you now, I think you're being really fucking stupid."

"I'm not doing that" You defend yourself, tearing up at the sight of him. He pushes into your apartment, shutting the door behind him and standing close enough to touch. He’s staring you down with pleading eyes, and you bury your face in your hands so you don’t have to look at him.

“Then why are you ignoring me? Why won’t you let me fix this?”

“I don’t know I just,” you inhale shakily “I don't know how to do it right now, not like this."

"Like what?" He hopes he already knows the answer, but needs to hear you say it, to know that you’re as serious as he is. Your mouth feels full of cotton when he forces you to look at him by whispering your name, pulling your hands from your face and his heart pinches tightly at the tears welling in your eyes "please tell me, please. Like what?"

"You already know," your bottom lip betrays you, voice weak beneath heavy emotion when you speak "I love you, Haechan. I'm in love with you, and I don't know what to do about it. I feel like I fucked everything up, but I can’t undo it."

He feels his lungs fill with relief. Haechan steps forward to close the small gap between your bodies, grabbing your jaw to rest his forehead against yours. You falter, but his hand on the small of your back keeps you from going anywhere, he's practically panting and you can barely stand, dizzy with the feeling of him. You want to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming when he whispers "You didn't fuck anything up."

He ghosts his lips over yours for a moment until he's sure you're not going to stop him. When he finally kisses you it's with years of pent up adoration, directing your arms around his neck and pressing his thumb firmly into your jaw, long fingers wrapping around the side of your throat. He practically whines when your fingers tighten in his hair and your lips part for his warm tongue. His arm wraps around your waist so tightly you have to hinge backward to keep your mouths connected, gasping at the strength you didn't know he had.

He keeps your stomach flush to his own and kisses you until you're practically limp in his arms, pulling away to breathe. His eyes are shut as he rubs his nose over yours

"I love you, too. I've been meaning to tell you for a while." All the blood rushes into your ears at his words and you can't stop your biggest worry from spilling into the air.

“What if you change your mind?”

“I made up my mind a long time ago, there's nothing you could do to change it." He blinks his eyes open, pulling his face away from yours just enough to see you, the trepidation in your eyes makes him say your name quietly.

"It's only me, you know me," he assures you in a hushed tone "you have to know by now that you are my entire world."

You could laugh, only him, as if he hasn’t been one of the most important people in your life since the day you met. As if he isn’t someone who has seen you at every stage of it so far. It’s Haechan, who has always been funny, who has witnessed the worst sides of you and never made you feel bad, who has never left your side.

You kiss him again, fingers wrapping in tight fists around his shirt to keep yourself grounded. Haechan’s heart pounds happily in his chest and he hopes you can feel it this time, both hands nestling into your hair. He kisses you gently in an effort to slow down your urgent movements, moaning at the taste of your mouth. You fall into his rhythm easily, the way his tongue rolls gently over yours makes your body go up in flames. You move your hands to slide beneath his shirt, landing on the strong muscles in his back and teasing your fingers up his sides.

When you finally come up for air he stares at you for a minute before laughing, stomach tightening beneath your fingers when he does.

"What's funny?" you shut your eyes, leaning your forehead into his chest, letting the pretty sound ring in your ears.

"Nothing, I'm just-" he cuts himself off with a shrug, nuzzling his nose into the crown of your head "I love you, and you love me back. That's all, that's how easy it is."

"It hasn't been easy at all, in fact my life has been very very hard since your birthday last year.” He pulls away from your head to ogle at you.

"My birthday last year?" You nod, feeling your cheeks flush under his intense gaze, it had really been that long "God, I'm sorry I'm such a fucking idiot."

He's kissing you again before you can ask him to elaborate, grabbing hold of both wrists in one hand while he walks you backward and guides you up onto the counter as slowly as he has to in order to keep his lips on yours. His hips are the perfect height for you to wrap your legs around, gasping in surprise when he slides his hands around your ass and presses your core tightly against the growing bulge in his jeans.

You feel shy when you pull away to ask if he wants to go to your bedroom, feeling frozen in place when he stares at you with half lidded eyes, his plump lips swollen and red.

"Tonight, I'm just kissing you." Every cell in his body is screaming in protest at his own words. He can't express how badly he wants to do everything else, to recreate his dreams, to learn the parts of your body he'd never seen before. But he can't imagine doing anything but this tonight, just this; his lips on yours, your breath in his lungs and your body melting into his.

"Why?” your eyebrows pull together in confusion. You practically shiver with need, tucking your arms between your stomachs and burying your nose in his throat. His laugh buzzes against your face, rubbing his hands gently over your shoulders and trying to control his own breathing as your lips brush over his skin.

All he can say is, “Because I’ve been needing to for a long time.”

“How long?” You pull away from his chest, leaning back onto your hands and closing your eyes when he runs his own down your sternum and over your waist, groping at the flesh of your hips and trying not to regret his romantic side.

“Way too long.”

“Your birthday?” you ask, tugging gently at his shirt. He plants his hands outside of your legs to lean in close, one corner of his mouth pulling up.

“Much longer.” Your eyes widen in shock, and he interrupts you before you can question him “can we talk about it later? I have something really important to do tonight.”

———

He tells you that he's had feelings for you since senior year of college, when you kissed Jeno. He tells you about his plan to admit everything when he had seen you on his birthday, but that he was too scared. He assures you he ended his relationship the moment he got back home the previous week “because everyone has felt like a matter of 'when' it will end, not 'if',” He tells you that just two weeks of your silence hurt worse than any previous heartbreak, and you agree. And before you fell asleep next to him he tells you again, ‘I'm so in love with you.’ and shimmies excitedly when you say it back before kissing you until you can barely keep your eyes open. He holds your cheeks in his hands and practically lulls you to sleep with his tongue, plush lips pressing to yours so gently you can hardly feel them dotting around the rest of your face. He thinks he could do this forever before sleep finally catches up with him, his arm slung over your side to hold your face to his chest.

You wake up curled into a familiar side, your first emotion being giddy as the night floods back to you. Despite your obvious willingness to go further, Haechan had meant it when he said he'd only be kissing you. It made you crazy at first, but when the two of you were staring at each other in the mirror with shy eyes while moving through a nighttime routine you had gotten familiar with years before, you were happy he had the self control you clearly lack. The idea of him actually seeing and touching you in ways he never had before, of doing all the things you'd found yourself imagining him doing over the last year; it was overwhelming. Kissing until your jaw was sore and your lips were swollen felt easy.

You’re startled by Haechan’s hand reaching for yours, holding your palm and bringing your fingers to his lips to press a kiss to each one, “good morning.” his voice is deep and tired, mouth landing on the crown of your head.

"Good morning." You press your nose into his chest happily, gripping his hand in yours and resisting the urge to squeal with delight.

"What are you so excited about, me?" He teases, hand falling on your thigh to guide your leg up the front of his, stopping just below his crotch and you hope he's going to give you what you'd been wanting all night, for the last year.

"You, I just can't believe how happy I am." You admit, lifting your head off of his chest to smile at him. He pulls you right back down, kissing your lips once before rolling you both over so he's on top of you. He presses a hand over your collarbone and drags his lips down your chin and over your throat.

"You know, this means you're all mine now." he smirks against your neck when you nod, gasping when he sucks gently at the base. He has one forearm on the mattress, the other hand too gentle on your ribs. You can feel that he's hard and you immediately roll your hips up.

"Does this mean you're gonna do more than just kiss me now?" you intend to sound confident, but it comes out as a whimper. His nose brushes over your jaw before he presses lingering kisses to your chin and cheek.

"Yes, baby, if you'll let me." You nod eagerly, shifting your face so your lips are beneath his and sighing happily when he lowers his weight onto your torso, licking into your mouth. You shiver with anticipation when he pushes at your shirt, long fingers tickling up your side before landing on your breast. You gasp into his mouth when his thumb brushes over your already hard nipple.

Your impatience is overwhelming, grabbing the back of his shirt and tugging it up to his shoulders. He pulls away reluctantly, reaching one hand toward his back and pulling his shirt over his head. You gnaw at your lip, running your hands over his stomach and hooking your knees around his hips as much as you can while stretching your arms over your head.

“Cute.” he murmurs, pulling your shirt up and tossing it to the side. He gropes at your chest, tongue wetting his lips before he leans down to wrap them around one of your nipples. He’s trying to act without thinking, to let the dreams he’s had pave the path down your body because he knows the second he acknowledges his nerves he won’t be able to shake them off. His heart thrums when you gasp above him, arching your chest into his mouth. He’s greedy for your sounds, his hands squeezing your breasts together and licking between them to get to the other nipple. When your hips buck up into his he groans, pulling away from your chest and staring down at you with wondering eyes.

“Can I?” He feels unnaturally shy, leaning back on his calves and watching his fingers press dimples into the flesh of your hips above your underwear, tugging at the hem.

“You don’t need to ask.” He smiles, forcing you to sit by grabbing the back of your neck for a kiss. His fingers press into your clothed core and your hips roll into his hand. He sighs into your mouth at your desperation, torn between teasing you and touching you everywhere.

You can’t keep your legs from shutting around his arm when he pushes your panties to the side and slides his middle and ring finger up your wet center, circling over your clit.

You pull away from the kiss, blinking up at him and your mouth falls open when he presses firmly on your clit, rubbing in slow circles. His head hangs as he lets out a quiet “fuck” at your reaction, moving his hand off your neck to stroke over your stomach and without it behind your head you have to lie back, he presses your legs open. Haechan stares at your chest while he settles between your knees, pushing two fingers inside your dripping core. His jaw hangs open, watching his knuckles disappear inside of you.

“So soft,” he breathes, staring down to where his fingers glisten when he pulls them out to rub over your clit again, palming over his cock getting harder in his sweats “want to be everywhere at once.”

“Want you everywhere.” you whine when his fingers pull away to hook into your underwear, tugging them down your legs. Haechan stands to strip and you hold your breath and soak in the soft swell of his hip that leads to where his cock hangs heavy between his legs. It’s pretty like the rest of him, and thicker than you'd expected with a leaking tip that matches the color of his tongue, he strokes himself once and you don’t get the chance to reach for him before he lays back on the bed, rolling you to sit on top of him. You shudder when your pulsing clit rubs over his stomach, inner thigh squeezing into his ribs. He runs his hands up your waist, scooting you an inch higher and grabbing onto your tits.

“Do you remember a few months ago, when you called me drunk and I told you I was dreaming about hanging out with you?” He shivers when you grind down in response, wet pussy sliding easily over his skin “I lied.”

Your hands press into his chest, tilting your head “what were we doing?” you can barely speak above a whisper when he pinches gently at your nipple with one hand, the other rubbing over your ribs when he smirks up at you.

“You were about a foot higher than you are right now,” you gasp and reach out to grab the headboard when he jolts his hips to move you up his chest, staring down at him with wide eyes as he shifts to wrap his arms under your legs, fingers pressing into your thighs.

“You dreamt about this?” you let him bring your hips to hover over his face, hands falling into his hair when he brushes his nose over your clit as he nods.

“All the time,” he moans and drags you down onto his face, lips wrapping around your clit. You shudder above him, letting some of your weight collapse into your heels and he groans happily at the pressure of you on his chin, pressing you harder onto his mouth to fuck his tongue into you. He wants to devour you, every sound you make goes straight to his cock which is already rock hard at the taste and smell of you. Even just thinking about the fact that it's your hips grinding over his face right now is enough to make him moan into your pussy.

You slur out praise, one of your hands shooting up to grip the headboard. His hands wander gently up your sides, eyes opening to stare up to where he plays with your tits, hard cock pulsing at the sight of your head thrown back, hips moving in gentle circles over his face. Haechan’s hand tugs yours down to his hair, trying to restrain himself from thrusting into the empty air at the feeling of you all over him. He hums happily into your pussy when you start to grind over his mouth, flattening his tongue for you to ride until your legs are shaking.

He lets out a deep “mmhmm” when you warn him that you’re going to cum, suckling hard on your clit until you’re practically begging him to let you go, body crumpling forward with both hands tangled in his hair. He's grateful you didn't touch his cock, just the thought of your fingers wrapped around him is enough to make him cum and he has other plans.

You can’t speak when you collapse onto the mattress beside him, immediately warmed by the weight of his body on top of yours as he slots himself between your thighs, sucking a hickey onto the front of your throat.

“Taste too fucking good,” he hums, mouthing over your chin and cheek “been dreaming of eating your sweet pussy for so long.” you practically swoon when he kisses you, pre-cum wetting the inside of your thigh when he relaxes his stomach onto yours.

“Hyuck, want you in me, please” Your vision is blurry, whining into his swollen lips. He works them over your cheek before pulling away from you, bringing one of your legs up to his shoulder and you rest the other knee on his hip. He can feel himself pant when he taps the head of his cock on your swollen clit, practically drooling when he sticks barely the tip inside before pulling back and repeating the tantalizing motion.

“Been waiting for too long to be teased,” you pout, trying to encourage his hips toward yours with the ankle he’s not pressing his cheek into. He smirks and circles his leaking tip over you again, watching his cock spread your arousal around before he pushes into you a little further.

“I’m taking my time with you, feels so fucking good.” He can’t look away from between your thighs, messy hair hanging over his forehead while his fingers grip your ankle tightly. You whimper when he pulls all the way out again, one more hard tap against your pulsing clit before he pushes himself halfway into your leaking pussy. You rise onto your elbows, trying to reach one hand to grab for his hip but he releases the base of his cock to stop you by lacing your fingers together. When Haechan finally looks into your eyes he bottoms out, stretching your leg toward your chest so he can lean in. His hips stutter, a choked groan rumbling deep in his chest.

“Oh my god, Hyuck please.” you beg him to move with a gasp. His forehead presses to your chin, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Fuck, baby, been needing you," he thrusts into you slowly, lifting his head to look down at you glowing beneath him with your eyes shut. He pulls out all the way before thrusting back inside, quickening his hips when your eyes flutter open, the look on your face enough to make his balls tighten slightly, shutting his eyes to regain self control "knew you'd feel so fucking good."

"M’so full, Haechan." you moan at his words and the rapid slap of his hips on the back of your thighs, forcing your eyes to stay open so you can see his face. The way his nose scrunches with focus when he pulls away from your chest, both his hands wrapping firmly around your hips while he watches his cock sink into you. Brown, shaggy hair sticks to his damp forehead, full lower lip taken between his teeth. He’s pure, unadulterated boyish beauty, and he’s all yours.

You squeak when he lets your leg drop off his shoulder, pressing your thigh as far open as it will go with your heel digging into his backside. He fans his fingers over your lower stomach, thumb reaching down to push your clit side to side and your hips tuck up for more pressure, Haechan moans loudly when the movement causes you to clamp around his cock, "Perfect fucking pussy, can't believe it's mine now. Like my fingers on your pretty clit?”

You nod enthusiastically, letting go of your breasts to hold the backs of your thighs, Haechan's eyes move up your body to stare at your chest move beneath him, nipples looking sweet as candy. He’s dying to sink his fingers into the softest part of your stomach, the way you’re moving for him makes his mind turn to sand. You stare down to where his thumb is making circles over your clit, perfectly timed with the head of his cock bruising your g-spot. You feel a second orgasm build and the corner of his mouth pulls up proudly when your legs shake. Your head hangs back as you gasp for air, "yes, please, Haechan feels so fucking good."

"Make the prettiest noises for me, want you cumming all over my cock." he leans forward just enough to trap your throat beneath the weight of his palms, other hand still moving over your swollen clit. You smile at the pressure of his body on yours, eyes fluttering shut while you moan. You nod desperately when he asks if you can do that, "if you can let me make you feel that good, please, my pretty girl."

He takes his hand off your throat when you cum, wanting to hear every sound you could possibly make. You repeat his name like a blessing that has him cumming with you, moaning and breathless as his hips start to slow, milking you both through your orgasms.

You wrap your arms around him when he pulls out of you, reveling in the feeling of him when he lowers himself down, burrowing his face into your neck and warming your skin with his breath. You hold him there for a minute until he pulls his head up, dopey smile lighting up his eyes and making you laugh.

“What?” you scrunch your nose at him “better than your dreams?”

He nods, “so much better, best I ever had, my body belongs to you now.” he smirks at his own words, but his tone is so gentle he can’t even call it a joke.

“Just your body?” you tease, and he leans his nose onto your lips for a kiss that you carry onto the mole under his eye.

“Body, mind, heart, soul,” he sighs happily when you cup his cheeks in your hands, kissing him gently “all the planets in my head.”

"All the planets in my head too."

————

masterlist

authors note // this ended up being much longer than i anticipated, maybe the longest one shot i’ve ever actually written! i appreciate everyone who voted for happy ending because when i was originally thinking of a sad ending it was too hard lol. this feels forever unfinished because there is so much good to this version of haechan, i adore him.

[quartz-kilsviken]

Written in the Runes

Chapter 6

➸ Synopsis: Ekko, your mischievous yet endearing local troublemaker, trails a wealthy academy student from the topside. When you end up with the student's satchel, you find a notebook filled with intriguing magical research. Unable to resist, you embark on a quest to uncover the secrets of this mysterious scholar.

➸Pairing: JayVik x reader

➸Chapter Word Count: 2,917

➸Tags: Slow Burn, yearning, eventual smut, not

canon compliant

➸Notes: Your Honor, Viktor is a brat. The first few weeks at the Academy, I loved writing this chapter. I just wanna give Jayce a smooch on the cheek, he’s so sweet. ♡ॢ₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎"

➸ Previous Chapter: Pt. 5

“It’s a complete waste of the technology,” Viktor grumbles, tapping his fingers on the desk. “The only ones who’ll benefit are the Councilors padding their pockets with trade deals.”

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind—setting up the lab, scrambling to get everything organized, and, naturally, arguing. This same debate keeps coming up. While the three of you are developing Hextech, the Council’s already decided what it’s going to be used for. Viktor’s furious. They want to build a massive teleportation system, similar to the energy from the night in Heimerdinger’s lab, but on a much larger scale. They say they want it to transport people and cargo across Runeterra. Your problem isn’t with the idea, it’s the scale—hundreds of crystals, each needing its own rune combination. Just thinking about it makes your head throb.

“They’re not exactly giving us a choice,” Jayce says, his voice calm but his posture a dead giveaway that he’s frustrated. His feet are propped up on the desk, balancing on the back two legs of his chair. He’s trying to stay composed, but you can tell it’s wearing on him. Viktor, on the other hand, looks like he’s a hair’s breadth away from snapping.

Viktor’s bent over his desk, flipping through Jayce’s notes with a frown that could melt metal. You’d rather not dive into this right now, but seeing both of them so stressed gets to you. “You’re both right,” you say, pushing your chair back and crossing your arms. “We don’t have much of a choice, but that doesn’t mean we can’t make sure it’s used for something good. I mean, right now, the only way to get to Piltover is by ship, and it’s miserable.” You shudder at the memory—seasick, your mom holding you over the railing to throw up because you couldn’t even reach it. You didn’t have time to warn her the first time and Khal had to clean up after you. He still brings it up. “At least this way, travel won’t suck as much.”

Viktor looks like he’s chewing that over, his face softening a little. Jayce, however, seems to latch onto something else. “You’ve traveled?”

Damn. Not the direction you want this conversation to go. But it’s hard to lie to Jayce when he looks at you like that. “Uh, yeah. My family moved here when I was younger, but I don’t remember much of it,” you say quickly, glancing back at your sketches in an attempt to shift focus.

Jayce doesn’t push, but Viktor raises an eyebrow. “Where did you live before?”

Viktor, as you’ve learned, is relentless when something catches his interest. The more you try to avoid it, the harder he’s going to dig. So, you switch gears before this goes any further.

You pick up one of your rough HexGate designs and hold it out to them with an exaggeratedly serious expression. “What do you think of this? I think it’s the best one I’ve come up with so far.”

Viktor’s face immediately turns from curious to horrified, and you can’t help but stifle a laugh. Jayce steps closer, squinting at the design. “It’s... impressive? But I’m not sure the Council would approve. It’s, uh, a little... much?”

Viktor looks at him, then back at the sketch, deadpan. “It’s... terrifying.” Jayce looks at Viktor, clearly trying to silently say, ‘don’t be mean’. You’re practically bubbling with amusement, and Viktor’s giving you exactly the reaction you wanted.

“No, no, you just don’t get the vision.” You gesture dramatically to the design as if it’s the most brilliant idea ever.

Viktor stares at it, his eyebrows knit together in distaste. The sketch is a monstrosity, but you’re selling it hard. It’s a massive statue-like structure of both his and Jayce’s faces, towering over the city. The jaws of the faces are designed to unhinge, releasing a beam of energy that powers the teleportation. It’s completely absurd. “Oh, we see the vision. It’s just... I’m not sure I’m prepared for our faces to loom over Piltover. It’s a bit... ominous, don’t you think?”

Jayce looks between you and Viktor, his expression full of confusion and concern. “But why are we the ones on it? Shouldn’t you be, too?”

You grin, shrugging casually. “Nah. You two are way more photogenic than I am.” You glance at Viktor, who’s trying not to smile. “Besides, I don’t need a giant statue of me towering over the city. That sounds a little... egotistical.”

Viktor snickers. “I’ll approve the design... but only on one condition.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s that?”

“We simplify it,” Viktor says, looking at you with a smirk. “Only Jayce on the statue.”

Jayce’s face falls in mock betrayal, and you immediately spring up from your chair, shaking Viktor’s hand with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Deal. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Wait, what?” Jayce protests, his eyes wide.

You cross your arms, a triumphant grin spreading across your face.“Two against one, Jayce. Looks like you’re the face of Hextech now.”

Seeing them less upset—even if just for a moment—makes your heart lighter. You’d draw a million silly diagrams just to keep seeing them smile. But the moment fades as soon as you remember your studies start today. It’s been easier to get lost in Hextech, especially with Jayce and Viktor around. But now… you won’t be able to hide away in the lab much longer.

You start packing up your things reluctantly, and the two of them catch on. Jayce looks up and offers, “Want us to walk you? It’s not far.”

You’d appreciate it, but you know they have more important things to do. You can’t ask them to waste their time.

“Nah, I’m used to navigating this maze by now. I’ll be fine. Thanks, though.”

Viktor gives you a knowing look, his gaze sharp as ever. He catches the tension in your voice without missing a beat. Before he can protest, you can make your way out of the lab.

You had a million different ideas of how your first lecture would go, but somehow it ended up worse than you imagined. First, you got completely lost. Jayce said it wasn’t far, but somehow it took you thirty minutes to find the place. Then, when you finally made it in, the only seat left was right in the middle. You spent the whole time feeling like you were on display, barely able to focus. You didn’t catch a word the professor said.

The rest of the day was a blur—moving from class to class, barely keeping track of the time, let alone the content. By the time your last lecture ended, you were drained, desperate to escape, but the crowd at the door made that impossible. You almost considered climbing out of a window just to get away from it all.

Then you see him. His eyes scan the room until they land on you, and his face lights up with that wide, gap-toothed grin. For a moment, everything else fades.

You make your way toward him, and when his hand rests on your back, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. It’s just a casual touch, but somehow it makes everything feel a little easier.

“Let me guess. Viktor sent you to make sure I actually made it here?” you say, raising an eyebrow with a teasing grin.

Jayce laughs, guiding you through the crowd with a casual ease.

Once you’re in a quieter hall, he looks over at you, still smiling.

“So, how was it?”

His optimism is blinding, and you can’t bring yourself to admit how overwhelmed you are. Instead, you just shrug and smile back. “It was fine.”

You realize, even though you’re away from the crowd, his hand is still resting on your back. You hope he sees your nervousness as a result of the overwhelming day, not because of him. Jayce has this effortless warmth, the kind that draws people in without even trying. He’s like that with Viktor, too—his gaze lingers on him sometimes, full of quiet affection. It’s just how he is, you think. The three of you might share a connection, but in truth, you don’t know much about each other. Maybe that’s for the best. Instead of getting in your head about it, you focus on the comfort of the palm on your back, guiding you home.

As you open your door and turn to say goodnight, you catch him hesitating, like he wants to say something. His eyes flick past you, scanning your room.

“What, does my interior decorating offend you?”

“No—” he chews over his words. “There’s no interior decorating to be offended by.”

Right. The space is big—bigger than anything you’ve had—and honestly, kind of unsettling. The academy provided a bed and a desk, but the rest is empty. “I guess I just haven’t had time,” you lie, forcing an easy shrug.

Oh, he needs to stop looking at you like that—like he sees right through you. His voice is gentler when he says, “I don’t know if Heimerdinger told you, but this isn’t regular student housing. It’s permanent.”

Permanent. He definitely failed to mention that.

“This place is yours,” Jayce continues. “It might help you feel more comfortable if you got a few things. Viktor and I can help, you know.”

You know. And that’s exactly why you hesitate.

“If I present my HexGate design to the council, they might just kick me out, you know.” You flash a grin, but the joke is thinly veiled. The ridiculous, fake design you’d sketched earlier had been for fun—but what if your real ideas get the same reaction? What if you pour everything into this, only to watch it fall apart?

Jayce doesn’t call you on it, just watches you for a moment before saying simply, “Think about it.”

“Good night, Jayce.”

The rest of your week went smoothly, the routine settling your nerves. Even the HexGate project had taken a turn for the better—frustration giving way to excitement as plans started coming together. You’d gotten so caught up in your work that you even started pulling out your designs during lectures, ignoring the side glances from other students. Things had been going so well, in fact, that you’d completely forgotten about your conversation with Jayce.

Jayce, however, had not.

You had been looking forward to a full day of working on Hextech—only to walk into the lab and realize Jayce had other plans. He insisted you all go out to get things for your room, and to your dismay, Viktor had immediately agreed.

Now, you curse Jayce’s insistent kindness as your arms strain under the weight of a couch.

"Left, Jayce—my left, not yours. You’re a very intelligent man, but apparently, using your muscles and your brain at the same time is a challenge." Viktor watches from a safe distance, fingers tapping absently on his cane, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips.

“I’d like to see you try it,” Jayce grunts back, his voice strained.

From over the couch, you catch Viktor’s amused look as his eyes glint with mock disapproval. “Oh, you would, would you? That is cruel—wishing to see a man with a hurt leg carry a couch.”

“You’re mean,” you huff, adjusting your grip. “Mean and distracting, and I need him focused so I don’t get crushed under this thing.”

As you reach your door, Viktor steps in to help, and you decide it’s time to wipe that smug expression off his face. You smile, letting the teasing tone slip in.

“Here, grab my keys so I don’t have to set this down.”

Viktor’s eyes flick over you, and for just a moment, his expression tightens when his gaze lands on your back pocket. You see the brief hesitation, that almost imperceptible pause before he catches himself and steps forward.

“What, Viktor? Scared to touch my ass?”

He furrows his brows at you, but there’s a spark of something in his eyes—playful, but just a little caught off guard. He reaches into your pocket, fingers slow, deliberate, not quite brushing against you, but you feel it anyway. The space between you both seems to close just a little too easily.

When he pulls the keys out, you glance at Jayce, your grin widening.

“See how easy that was? You could tell Viktor he can’t fly, and he’d probably jump off a building just to prove you wrong.”

You barely hear Viktor muttering under his breath, his voice quieter than usual. “Don’t do what I’m asked, and I’m insulted. Do what I’m asked, and—still—I am insulted.”

He holds open the door, his usual confidence returning. “Left—no—my left.” He huffs a laugh as the couch bangs into the door frame.

“Don’t listen to him, Jayce. You’re doing really well.” You grunt, adjusting your grip.

You don’t notice how Jayce seems to soften at the praise, a slight glow warming his face, but Viktor does. The teasing edges of his smile fade as he watches, and instead of continuing his playful jab, he tucks the observation away in his mind.

As soon as the couch is set down, Jayce flops across it with a deep, exasperated grunt. He’s tall, sprawling across the entire length of it. You smack his shoe, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Budge.”

He doesn’t lift his head, but you can hear the exhaustion in his voice as he sighs. “I don’t think I can move.”

You’re tired too, and without thinking, you shift his legs off just enough to make room for yourself. As you settle back into the couch, his legs fall naturally across your lap. The weight of them is surprisingly comforting. You let your head fall back against the cushions, savoring the softness.

You feel his muscles tense beneath you, a subtle shift in the air. When you open your eyes just a bit, you catch him staring. The intensity in his gaze catches you off guard, and your stomach flutters before you can look away. He clears his throat, quickly turning his attention to Viktor, who’s unpacking the rest of the items.

“We should get one of these for the lab.”

You laugh, trying to shake off the unexpected warmth spreading through you. “Oh yeah? Well, you can carry it yourself. I’m never lifting another couch.”

Viktor pulls his gaze from the two of you, placing a new lamp on your desk, but his attention shifts, lingering over the paintings scattered across the space. Some old, some new, but one in particular catches his attention. The blue glow from the scene reflects over both his and Jayce’s faces as they float in Heimerdinger’s lab. He stops, staring at it, the soft light catching his features.

‘Is this really how she see’s us?’ he thinks, something shifting in his chest. ‘It’s beautiful.’

The only thing missing from the piece, he realizes, is you. But before his thoughts can wander further, he shifts his focus back to the lamp. As he reaches down to plug it in, another painting catches his eye. He pulls a canvas from the bag in the corner, completely captivated.

It’s a scene of a mother and daughter, gathered by a fire. Their closeness is palpable, the warmth of the moment so real you almost feel you’re there. The mother is showing the daughter some kind of magic. Viktor’s eyes drift to the bottom corner, and before he can stop himself, he asks softly,

“Did you paint this?”

You don’t respond right away. Instead, moving out from under Jayce and striding across the room, your expression suddenly distant. Viktor’s heart gives a small, unexpected lurch as he watches you, realizing too late that his question has caught you off guard.

“No.”

You move swiftly to take the painting back, but before you can grab it, Viktor holds it just out of your reach, his hand lingering there a little longer than necessary. He can’t help himself, his voice softer this time.

“That’s your name in the corner, is it not?”

You freeze, your hand still outstretched. When you meet his gaze, your eyes lock for a moment that feels too long. There’s an unexpected shift, a warmth that pulls you both closer, though neither of you dares to acknowledge it. You shift just a little, your body instinctively drawing nearer. Viktor’s gaze flickers, and for a brief second, he looks almost... uncertain.

Before the moment can stretch any longer, you use his distraction to quickly snatch the canvas from his hand.“It’s my grandmother’s name. I don’t sign my art.”

You shove the painting back into the bag, zipping it shut a little too quickly.

Jayce’s soft voice draws your attention, “Art like that is meant to be shared, not locked away. We’re already here, we can help you hang them.”

You realize they’re both well-meaning, but you still feel a soft pang in your chest, something you can’t quite place.

Hesitant, you open the bag again, pulling out two paintings—both by your mother, one of a flower, the other of the sea. You hand them to Viktor, the gesture light, almost fleeting, but something lingers in the air.

Without a word, you turn toward the kitchen, the quiet task of making dinner a welcome distraction. It’s easier to focus on that than whatever their kindness is stirring in you. After everything they’ve done for you today, helping you settle in and furnish the place, it’s the least you can do.

[honeyjars-sims]

Part 2 Prologue #5: The Head and the Heart

Author's note: This post is written from Paul's perspective instead of Johnny's!

“I heard something today,” Danica tells me. She’s lying sideways on my bed while I try in vain to do some research. It’s futile, I know, because as soon as I find something useful I’ll be interrupted by Danica’s thinly-veiled attempts at psychoanalyzing our friends–or worse, me– under the guise of gossip. “I’m sure it’ll get around to you eventually, but I wanted you to hear it from me first,” she continues.

I sigh. I never know if what she’s going to say is actually as dramatic as she’s making it out to be. “Come on, Danica. I really need to finish my research. Can’t you wait until I’m done to ruin my life?”

“It’s not that bad,” she insists, but she's looking away. “It’s just…Deshawn is seeing someone.” She looks up at me, watching me closely to try and gauge my reaction. I try my best to play it cool.

“Good for him,” I say. 

Danica raises an eyebrow. “Really? You’re not, like, upset about it?”

“Not at all. I’m over that whole thing.” I wave my hand in an attempt to seem nonchalant and hit the corner of my laptop in the process. 

“Yeah, sure,” she snorts.

“I am! It’s been weeks since we last slept together. I barely even think about him anymore.” I can admit to feeling a bit thrown off at hearing that my (sort of) ex is dating someone else, but I’m not lying when I say I’m over him.

He was all I wanted when I was in high school, but reality never quite lived up to the fantasy I’d built up for so long. As much as it hurts to say, Deshawn didn’t feel the same way about me that I did about him, and no amount of waiting around was going to change that.

“Well, if you say so,” Danica replies, unconvinced. “I’m glad you're not hung up on him anymore. You know I love Deshawn, but he’s not the one for you.” She twists a lock of hair around her finger absent-mindedly. “Wait…you’re not moving on from Deshawn because of the roommate thing, right?”

“What? No! I just said I think he’s hot. I’m not trying to date him or anything.”

“Good, because you already know how I feel about that whole thing.” I can tell from her tone of voice that I’m about to get a lecture. “I told you it was a bad idea to move in with a guy you’re interested in,” she continues. 

“I’m not interested. Besides, he’s straight anyhow.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.”

“Okay, Mom.”

“Oh good one.” Danica rolls her eyes. “Look, I just worry about you, okay?” Her tone is a bit softer now. She can be overbearing for sure, but I know she means well. Her advice isn’t always welcome but she’s often right.

“Well, you don’t need to. I graduated with honors in both high school and in undergrad. I’m in med school. I’m not an idiot.”

“That’s the thing, though, Paul! Academically speaking you’re very intelligent, but when it comes to more practical matters, you don’t always make the best decisions. Especially with dating.”

I want to protest, but I wonder if maybe she’s right. There’s a part of me that wants to approach my personal life with the same fastidiousness that I have with my education, but there’s another part of me that yearns to be reckless.

It’s the part of me that sleeps with a friend for months, hoping that I can convince him I’m worth committing to. The part that wants to grab my roommate by the shoulders when we’re dancing around the apartment and press my lips to his, even though I know he’s straight. 

Danica would say that I like the thrill of rising above a challenge, that I place more value on things when they’re harder to achieve. I don’t tell her any of this, though. Instead I mutter a vague sound of approval and shift the conversation to someone else.

“So this guy that Deshawn’s dating…what’s he like?” I ask. 

“He seems nice. Oh, get this: his name is also Paul!”

“No way, that’s so weird!” 

“Yeah, we’ll have to figure out a way to differentiate the two of you. You’ll just be Paul and he can be…Other Paul.”

I laugh. “We probably shouldn’t say that in front of him.”

“No, definitely not.” She reaches her hand out and places it on my knee. “Hey, you’ll find someone that’s way better for you than Deshawn.”

“Yeah, I know,” I respond. I hope this is one of the times she’s right.

Previous | Beginning of story | Beginning of chapter | Next

[atelierlili]

What's your headcanon for Katniss and Peeta's children?

How old was Katniss when give birth to their daughter?

How many years apart between them in age?

Your headcanon for their name?

Who gets the singing and art skill from their parent?

Bonus question : please give recs of your fav everlark post-Mockingjay fanfic.

Thank you :)

@curiousthg

You’ve made a grave mistake because I have so much to say and some art as well(becuase I’m so sane for them I swear)

So I’ve always headcannon that Katniss had her first baby in her late twenties-early thirties. In my head the 5, 10, 15 years go like this. Year 5: Katniss is open to the idea of children now. The games are done, but is Panem really safe yet? Is she ready yet. No, not really. Year 10: okay, Katniss feels safer and braver now. If it happens it happens. They won’t actively try for it and will let nature take its course. Year 15: Toast boy and girl are born within a 5-ish year time span.

Katniss names the girl Marigold for the golden flowers that Peeta planted next Katniss’ Primroses. Marigolds represent warmth, creativity, joy and good luck, but they were also given away during times of grief as a gesture of kindness and solidarity as the flower’s vibrant colours helped ease the pain of grief. Gold is also the colour that represents the bond between the district 12 team that comprised of Peeta, Katniss, Effie, Haymitch, Portia & Cinna. So it’s also carries some sentimental weight as without them and their bonds, this little girl wouldn’t have been born. Of course, Peeta calls the girl Muffin. Because she’s his little muffin. His little cupcake. It’s not until Effie decides that Mary is too bland a nickname for her favorite niece that we get the girl’s most used nickname- Muffy.

Muffy is a bundle of joy to their lives. And Katniss loves being a mother more than she’d thought. Having Muffy made Katniss yearn for the mini Peeta she dreamt of on a beach in the QQ.

Toastboy pops out about three and a half years later. The age gap is so close to be about the same as Katniss and Prim’s that it makes her heart squeeze again. His name is Cress, after Watercress (wait plz don’t leave), the aquatic plant that can be found in bunches at Katniss’ special lake. They are a highly nutritious plant to eat and is said to believe to have medicinal uses like treating swelling and fevers. The name is also a small nod to Annie Cresta and Finnick because of the water connection. His curly blonde hair gets him the nickname Goldilocks from Johanna.

Both children are highly artistic and connected to nature, Katniss teaches them both to hunt, but the kiddos don’t like it as much because they don’t like to hurt animals. It hurts Katniss a little bit, but she’s glad that bloodshed and violence (even to survive) aren’t a daily part of their lives.

Muffy is a performer. She’s definitely daddy’s little girl because she loves to yap. She could yap all day and still find something to talk about. She grows up loving to dance and then wanting to sing and dance- the dreams of making it big in the Capitol as a actress. (To Katniss’ complete and under horror) She’ll definitely develope some complex when it comes to being the Mockingjay’s daughter. Especially when she starts getting movie offers to play her Mom, even when after she tries going out of her way to distance herself from Katniss by going under a different stage name.

Cress is very much not Muffy. He’s a quiet little guy who follows after his big sister like a little duckling. He’s the only one who doesn’t get tired of her yapping and genuinely listens to her. Peeta and Katniss were a little worried when they started noticing that he wasn’t speaking for a while. They go to doctors and they can never find what’s causing this speech delay, but one day he starts talking at the age of 2, and he has the softest most sweetest voice in the world. He’s a very quiet and observant kid, that gets into more trouble than you’d think. While Peeta’s art is very imagery and emotionally (and politically) focused, Cress’s art is not. He’s super talented with a pencil and really skilled at realistic/technical drawings that he’d probably go an illustrate diagrams for scientific textbooks on nature and stuff. Growing up, he probably feels like his art work is too cold and unfeeling compared to Peeta’s splash of life. But in reality, the difference between they art styles are indicative of how they see and filter the world through their art.

Anyway, this is taking waaay to long so here is some early concept art of the toast babies. I’m still messing around with the tones and hues of their design, so none of this is final. I’m probs gonna switch Cress’s skin tone to a more golden undertone as opposed to Katniss’s reddish one to match his hair color, which might get a tad darker (or lighter tbh. In the books Peeta’s an ashy blonde) Meanwhile maybe I’ll give Muffy the redder undertone? There’s something off bout her that I need to keep experimenting with. She screams Movie Katniss baby, not Book Katniss Baby, but maybe that’s only because Jen has blue eyes.

[flowersdiceandlove]

I got the tgcf official books last year around this time. I got the first four for Christmas and the last four for my birthday. My birthday’s at the start of February so it made sense to split it that way. For every single one of my birthdays, there has always been a theme. It’s just the tradition my mom set and I love it so we keep doing it. Because of the books and how much I love them, last year’s theme was Heaven Official’s Blessing.

My birthday last year was actually pretty rough bc of medical stuff, but I was really, really happy to have the books. When I first read the series before the official translation, I was going through a hard time and the series really helped me through it. It brought so much joy and happiness to my life, making me laugh and squeal in turn at all the antics and sweet moments. And after I finished it, remembering Xie Lian helped me get through even more. Remembering him and all he went through and how he’s still the same kind and caring person, how he keeps going and persevering, not letting things keep him down for too long, and staying true to himself when it most matters, really, really helped me.

I thought was just going to fly right through the eight books because of how much I love them, but turns out I’ve been dragging my feet and only just started the eighth about a week ago. Lmao. I guess since I already knew what happens, I wasn’t sitting on the edge of my seat to find out “what next.” I still remember the first time I read it and Xie Lian first arrived at the Gambler’s Den. That chapter left on a cliff hanger and I was barely containing my excitement at them meeting again and Xie Lian seeing Hua Cheng’s real appearance.

I love them so much.

Hua Cheng is probably one of my all time favorite characters. I love his personality. His charm, his playfulness, his teasing.His devotion is literally on the next level. Like dude. Wow. I bow to you #1 Simp King. I mean that with the upmost respect, really. It is impressive. That level of loyalty and trust and yearning is admirable. His perseverance and how he gained power? Wow. His sense of justice, his trickiness with his words… He’s awesome. I aspire to be as much of a badass gay simp boss as he is one day. He is GOALS. Especially his style. Like damn. He’s hot. I wanna look like that. But I would like to keep both my eyes, please.

…what was i talking about again? Uh… I don’t remember my point.

Anyway, I love hualian. I love tgcf. I’m so happy I have them😊

Oh, also, I don’t know when I got this, but I love it cause it reminds me of the wraith butterflies and subsequently Hua Cheng, Hualian, tgcf, and all those wonderful feelings. I don’t know if you can see it too well in the photo, but the white part on the wings sparkles and the transparent white fabric of the wings itself sparkles in the light too.

[miguelswifey04]

Hi Lin! Could we ask for a Miguel O’Hara fic who secretly misses/worries for his loving partner, Spider![S/O] [Gender Neutral] because they’re away on an assigned mission in another dimension which may take some time like a few days/weeks?

Spider![S/O] always update reports to Miguel about the mission and would text him, “I miss you, babe. I promise to stay in one piece when I come back to the Spidey H.Q. With maybe a few scratches here and there. Love you, Miguel <3”

miguel o’hara x spider! gn reader

you’re away on a mission and for the love of god does miguel misses you so much

cw//fluff and comfort

miguel paces back and forth, his worry evident in the furrowed lines on his forehead and the constant tapping of his fingers against his thigh. the absence of you, his loving partner and confidant, weighs heavily on his heart as he anxiously awaits any news of your well-being. the creaking of the door catches his attention, and miguel’s eyes light up as he sees a notification on his phone. it’s a message from you, filled with a mixture of reassurance and longing. a bittersweet smile tugs at the corners of miguel’s lips as he reads the heartfelt words.

he quickly types a reply, his fingers flying across the screen as he pours his emotions onto the virtual canvas. “damn, i’ve been a mess without you around. don’t go thinking you can come back with a few scratches though. i expect you to come back in one piece, untouched by danger. i miss you. more than words can say. can’t wait to hold you in my arms again. stay safe out there. love you always.”

the tension in miguel’s shoulders eases slightly as he hits send, knowing that his message, filled with love and concern, will reach your heart. he finds solace in the fact that you are doing important work, even if it means being separated for a short period of time. days turn into weeks, and miguel yearns for any shred of information, any indication that you are safe and sound. he keeps himself busy, using his skills and intelligence to contribute to your shared cause, but his thoughts always drift back to you and the joy you bring to his life.

late one evening, as miguel sits at his worktable, surrounded by advanced technology and blueprints, his phone buzzes, interrupting the stillness of the room. his heart skips a beat as he sees your name appear on the screen. with trembling hands, he unlocks the phone and reads the message, relief flooding through his veins as he absorbs the news. "hey, babe. i’m finally back in our dimension. mission was a success! a few scratches here and there, like o promised, but nothing serious. can’t wait to be you, miguel. i’ve missed you so damn much. be ready for a hot reunion. i love you lots miguel <3"

a sigh of relief escapes miguel’s lips as he reads the message, his worry dissipating like mist in the wind. a surge of anticipation courses through his veins, and a mischievous grin spreads across his face as he types his response. “that’s the best news i’ve heard all week. i can't wait to have you back in my arms, to feel your warmth and hear your laughter. get ready for a reunion that'll set the room on fire. hurry back, love. i’ve missed you more than words can say. see you soon."

with renewed hope and excitement coursing through his veins, miguel sets his phone aside and looks forward to seeing you later that day. until then, he continues to work tirelessly, ensuring your shared home is a place of comfort, warmth, and love, ready to welcome you back with open arms.

tags 🏷️!! @kairiscorner @emiemiemiii @meeom @obi-mom-kenobi @sabcandoit @astro1bloom

[sword-is-bored]

I Met You Once

(Link X Reader)

Feminine (Y/n)!

Ocarina of Time

“(Y/n)!” The young girl turned her head, finding a boy in green on horseback. She tilted her head, wondering how he could know her name. “I’m sorry… do I know you?” He looked a couple years older, but not by much. “Oh! I’m.. uh.. yes. I’m Link. I was talking to your older sister. I just wanted to meet you.” The young girl tilted her head and smiled. She knew her older sister enjoyed talking with strangers, especially when she ventured to Castle Town. Maybe… this would be a friend for her. After all, their quaint house tucked far away wasn’t something she was able to leave. The young fairy boy seemed keen on talking to her. “It’s nice to meet you, I haven’t heard anything about you.” She said. Link shrugged and got down from his horse. “This is Epona. I..” He blushed, holding out his hand. “I wanna be your friend. I’m ten. I heard you’re eight.” She blinked and slowly nodded. “Yeah. I am. I like your horse. She’s pretty.” (Y/n) took his hand and shook it. Link grinned. “Great! Come on and pet her.”

So, (Y/n) did. She stroked the mane of the gentle horse, still a young foal herself. The two began to chat more, and (Y/n) found she really liked this boy. He had traveled all around Hyrule and visited… everywhere! All the adventure she had yearned for in her young years. “I have to stay home, mom and dad want me to be the perfect lady.” (Y/n) said softly. “Why’s that?” Link asked. “Oh, when I get married.” She said nonchalantly. “Married?” Link asked slowly. “Yeah. I have a fiancé.” (Y/n) hummed. “A fiancé?” The young girl grinned at the boy’s question. “Yeah! It’s super cool! When I get big enough, I’ll get married. So mom and dad want me to know all the things I need to be the perfect wife.”

The perfect wife.

The words had rang clear through the young boys brain. However, he had witnessed a different fate.

Years later, when Hyrule was crumbling.

Tears that (Y/n) cried when he had met her.

“I hate him. I hate this man. I hate being married. I’ve… already had two children. My body is ruined. I’m ruined. I wish.. I wish I never agreed.” An older Link had witnessed this, and brought the memory back to the present. “Link… I wish… you’d found me. I love you. I’m sorry.”

“(Y/n)… you shouldn’t marry him.” The young boy whispered. “Why not? Mom and dad say he’ll treat me so nice.” Link stared at the girl, biting his lip. “Promise me something? We’ll stay friends, okay? And you can tell me anything. And I’ll do anything to make sure you’re happy.” He asked. (Y/n) thought it was a weird request, but shrugged it off. A friend. That’s all she’s ever wanted. A true friend. “Okay, and I’ll do the same for you.”

Years passed, and Link made good on his promise. He would visit at least once a week, if not twice. (Y/n)’s parents found him irritating, but he never meddled in her marriage again. (Y/n)’s 16th birthday was nearing, as were her preparations for her marriage. “I’m really excited Link. After this long, I’ll be able to meet my fiancé soon.” She gazed at him, as they sat in Hyrule field together. Link hummed, picking at the flowers around them. “Yes, I’m sure you’re excited. But is this something you want?” He asked, tilting his head. Throughout the years, Link had lost his childish charms. He had grown into a fine young man, and (Y/n) couldn’t help but to notice him. Really notice him. The way he protectively stood with her, how kind he always was. How he could make her laugh, even at the worst times. Something… she wants? (Y/n) had to sit back with herself. Did she want to get married? “And you’ve never met the guy? What’s so great about him anyway?” Link prodded. (Y/n) frowned and thought to herself. “I don’t know. I guess… the fact that someone wants me. I’ve been spoken for for as long as I can remember.” She murmured. “Don’t you think that’s… creepy?” (Y/n) shook her head. “Not even a little?” Link asked. “If I were engaged for that long, I’d at least want to know what my wife looks like. Her name, her face, the way she laughs… you know. Something.” (Y/n) brushed Link off. “You wouldn’t understand.” She mumbled. “But… (Y/n). That’s… forever. Marrying someone.” (Y/n) huffed and tugged at the instrument Link carried around. “Okay, whatever fairy boy. Play me a song. I don’t want to talk about that anymore.” Link rolled his eyes and took the ocarina back from her. “Yes, princess.” He murmured and began to play a soft tune.

He just… couldn’t shake the way she looked at him. And through these years he had fallen in love with her. The way she laughed, the way her eyes sparkled when she was truly happy. He needed to see that smile. He wished he could do more to show her how much he cared for her, as more than a friend. Sure, at first this was his heroic heart. He needed to save a girl who obviously couldn’t save herself on her own. It’s what was right… but… now? Now his heart was in on it. He couldn’t… shake what he saw.

(Y/n) told him she was fourteen when she married this man. He was thirty eight years older than her. Fifty two. Marrying a child. “He made me happy at first and then… he treated me like a slave.” And that’s all she was to him. A servant. And it crushed him to see her like that. He spends a few days with her, under the guise of being an old childhood friend. He… fell in love with her so fast. So hard. He figured he could save her before any of this. He was already altering the future, why couldn’t he do it again?

“Link?” He jumped up as she snapped her fingers a few times. “Hey, did you hear me?” (Y/n) asked sitting back in the grass. “Maybe. Maybe not, why?” Link asked, feeling embarrassed he had fallen that deep in his thoughts. “I told you I’m getting married. In a week.” His heart seemed to stop and he looked at (Y/n). “What?” He hissed. “I’m getting married in a week. I was told yesterday, isn’t that exciting?” Link slowly reached out and took her hands, staring daggers into the ground beneath them. “(Y/n). I’ve… I know what your life will be like with him.” He said slowly, delicately as not to scare her. “You cannot marry him. Please. You.. you have to trust me. Okay? Say the word and I’ll take you away. Far away. I’ll protect you, and make sure no one ever takes away your freedom to choose again. But you have to trust my word.”

(Y/n) searched his gaze, finding nothing but panic and pain for her. Her heart clenched and she realized in horror… did she love him? She pulled her hands away and stared at Link intently. “I.. I don’t…” The words escaped her mind. He looked up, his eyes finding hers. And for once she could see her future. Laughing and running, cuddles and soft kisses. Waking up in the night, finding his sleeping body beside hers. A comforting and fulfilling presence. She bit her lip and closed her eyes. “I’m scared.” She said simply. Link pulled her into a tight hug, nodding softly. “I know. I am too, but I promise I’ll protect you. And I promise you’ll be so much happier. Trust me.”

She did trust him. With her life.

“Okay.” She breathed, hugging back. He pulled back and smiled, gently tilting her head up to look at him. He leaned in close, and she did as well. They shared a gentle kiss before Link pulled away. “I will come to get you the night before your wedding. Take anything you’d like. You won’t be returning.”

The day came, and (Y/n) waited anxiously in her nightgown. Her window cracked open and the familiar head of her lovely fairy boy poked inside. Their gazes met and he held out a hand. She smiled and took it, climbing out of her window with him.

To freedom.

(Happy ToTK release my friends :))

[vampire-club]

Heroes | November 6th, 1983

steve harrington x oc

(this entry contains: pining, yearning, slow burn, teen angst, unrequited love, childhood best friends, best friends, friends with benefits, sex, drugs, rock-n-roll, smoking, drinking, david bowie, vampires, potentially erotic soccer playing, dungeons, dragons, and the incurable desire to be known)

word count: 1.3k

series masterlist | next chapter

from the diary of Sara Henderson: writer, actor, biter, striker, team player, good with kids

dedicated to her brother, Dustin, and her best friend, Steve. may they never, ever read this!

if you have made it this far, why not go the extra mile and return this diary to sara henderson? 

November 6th, 1983

Crying wolf has become second nature to me. People are inclined to believe you when you’re confident enough in what you say. Soon enough, you’ll start to believe it yourself. Most of my life revolves around playing pretend. That’s how I have to live for now. Look at me… False alarm.

Halloween was a week ago but I feel like I’ve been hit by an aftershock. No amount of aspirin is soothing the pounding in my head. It makes the 20 steps from the front door to my car feel like a mile. Can you be hungover for a week? I’m probably just devastatingly tired. Maybe I should find time in my schedule for a moment to breathe. Do I have enough time between my cigarette at lunch and study hall? 

Tonight, I drive slower and play music quieter than usual through the neighborhood, attempting to get the most out of my alone time. It’s a short drive, only time for one song each way. I pick on the way there, Dustin decides on the way back. Unfortunately for him, I’ve rigged this system by only bringing one tape in the car. So for now, Modern Love is on as loud as I can handle. I’ve been replaying this tape since I got it as a very belated birthday gift. I’m sure Dustin is getting tired of it. He doesn’t like Bowie as much as I do. He says no one does. That’s why Steve got me the cassette. As long as he has known me, he has known David Bowie. It used to be that I was forcing it onto him, but he’s come to enjoy it. Well… when he’s not too busy. 

I could probably do this drive blindfolded and with my hands tied behind my back. The Wheeler’s don’t live far from us. If Dustin isn’t at home or school, he’s in that basement with his friends. I’ve been there a million times. Mom insists that if it’s too late, I have to pick Dustin up. I don’t mind it, but her overprotection of him has been cast onto me. 

When I pull up to the house, the sprinklers are on in the front yard, splashing my car. The boys are heading into the garage as I park at the bottom of the driveway. They’re talking loud enough for me to hear as I roll down my window.

“There’s something wrong with your sister” Dustin proclaims as blunt as ever. Have I influenced him enough yet?

“What are you talking about?” Mike responds. 

“She’s got a stick up her butt” I’m not sure if they haven’t noticed me or if they just don’t care. They're in their own world as usual.

“Yeah. It’s because she’s been dating that douchebag Steve Harrington.” Lucas chimes in. I can’t help but laugh. He’s not wrong, but what does he know about Steve?

“Yep, she’s turning into a real jerk.” Dustin says before Mike cuts in. 

“She’s always been a real jerk. You know, your sister is actually cool.” They turn to me. They did notice.

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” He jokes as I get out of the car. 

“Ouch, Dustin.” I feign offense and the boys laugh. 

They all hop on their bikes, ready to head home. 

“Goodnight.” I wave to them as I open my trunk for Dustin’s bike as he heads down to the car.

“I’m actually gonna ride home. I wanna race Will there. Winner gets a comic.” He turns to his friend.

“Any comic?” Will's eyes lit up at Dustin's offer.

“Don’t make me the bad guy.” I’m only half joking.

“Sorry.” He shrugs.

“It’s late and it’s freezing. I’ll drive Will home too.” Will turns to Dustin at my offer, seemingly indifferent. He’s always been one to follow his friends' lead. Not in a bad way, it’s endearing.

“Now that my honor and a comic are on the line? No way.” He protests and, hesitantly, I oblige.

“Fine. Just don’t complain when you get home.” I get back into the car. “And don’t tell mom that I let you do this.” 

“Yeah, alright.” The two start to ride off.

“See you soon. Goodnight, Will.” I wave to them as they speed off. Will gives a small wave before taking off far past Dustin. Oh well, this just means another moment alone. The garage lights flicker as I start to drive off. My music starts to crackle before resuming as normal.

I hear her heart beating, loud as thunder

Saw the stars crashing

I only see Dustin and Will again once they reach the house. Will continues on after defeating Dustin. 

“What’d you lose?” I ask as I open the garage.

“My X-Men 134” There’s a defeated tone to his voice.

“Bummer.” I softly nudged him into the house. I head straight to the kitchen. 

 “Did you eat?” He nods. I offer him a bucket of popcorn.

“Well I brought this from work if you want any” 

“Thanks.” He dips into the bucket and takes a handful. We’ve been quieter with each other lately. No fault on either of our parts. I just think there are things we want to keep to ourselves now. I grab a Coke from the fridge and cut the almost awkward silence.

“I was thinking about watching a movie, if you’re interested.”

He thinks for a moment, genuinely. “I would… but I have homework.” 

“Excellent point my dear scholar. You’d better get to it.” I respond, nudging him.

“One night this week for sure.” He promises, I nod.

“Maybe even at the theater. Employee perks.” 

“Roger that.” With that, he disappears into this room. 

Another event for my never ending schedule. Movies with Dustin. Probably after soccer practice, but before I call Steve, hoping he answers. And wouldn’t you know it, it’s that time now. I lock up the house and turn the lights out. The phone that sits on my desk waits for my inevitable return to dial my most frequently called number. It’s like the flip of a coin if he will answer or not. Heads: he answers. Tails: he’s making out with Nancy Wheeler. The line rings, once… twice…

“Hello.” Heads!

“Second ring? You must have been waiting for someone to call.” I tease.

“I wasn’t. I was just near the phone.”

“Mhm. Well we have that History project this week. I’ll give you a copy of my notes tomorrow.” He groans. Not exactly the academic type like myself or Dustin.

“You just have to look them over, maybe make some revisions, give me some input.”

“Yeah, fine. I got it.” 

“Good… You were totally waiting for Nancy to call.” I laugh.

“Shut up.”

“You’re welcome by the way. Couldn’t have done it without me. My charm. My connections.”

“Connections? Yeah, your brother being friends with her brother isn’t exactly impressive.”

 “You are impossible.” 

“Well look where I learned it.”

“Then I guess I am a damn good teacher.” He laughs. Finally, I haven’t heard him laugh much recently. This is the most fruitful conversation in weeks, and that isn’t saying much. I make fun of him, he makes fun of me. We know we’re joking and life goes on. Whatever keeps it from being awkward. I’m only occasionally known for my ego, but I think he needs me. Neither of us will ever admit it, but we rely on each other. 

“Alright, Striker. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“You never know.”

“Goodnight.” He insists.

“Goodnight, Steve.” Setting down the phone, I always make sure to be the one to hang up. Some sort of habit or instinct I guess. 

Striker

I guess if I said I’d have the notes tomorrow, I should finish the notes. Light a candle, put on some music, and write.

wait a minute, baby

stay with me awhile

[fishbaitslime]

Princess and Sandstorm for hypokits? 👀

“Sandstorm … the forest isn’t my home.”

“I’m there! Fireheart’s there, your nieces! What do the housefolk have that you won’t find in Thunderclan?”

Sandstorm and Princess met way later than Fireheart in canon would’ve found his sister, I think somewhere around the time of the new prophecy. Sandstorm would also become leader much later, probably either during the great journey or afterwards. They at first were pretty stand-offish to each-other, princess being in search of her brother originally- but they slowly became friends and eventually falling for each-other.

Once the clans learn they have to leave, Sandstorm immediately races to tell Princess and beg her to join the clan so they may be together. Princess is unsure, she never had dreams of being a warrior like her brother- which Sandstorm assures her there are much more relaxed roles within the clan that Princess could take up. Despite the reassurance, she isn’t sure, and asks Sandstorm to retrieve her on the morning they leave- just 3 days after this conversation she’ll have her answer then.

Sandstorm shows up, and waits. She waits as long as she can, Fireheart eventually (gently) telling her it’s time to leave. As they do, Princess frantically scrambles over her fence with a panicked “Wait-!” her collar, having been torn and dirtied by her trying to tear it off through the night, finally shattering as she comes to stand before her mate and family. “I’m sorry, I was trying to impress you with a big entrance- fancy, like the stories my mother told me…” She almost looked embarrassed, “I’ve made my decision.”

princess then becomes a permanent queen and spends her days with her wife and helping raise kittens :0) i also think this is apart of the fireraven au!! read my hypokit stuff for that if u wish <3

FLUFFYBELLY is a bit different from his canon counter part but also not. I think he’s born on the great journey, and kind’ve yearns for the traveling life of his kithood- replacing his kittypet desires for more of loner/rouge desires. He is still very jovial and silly- also a bit spoiled as a kit :P his moms wouldve, and did, give him anything he asked for. They just loved him sooo much. He still had his kinda weird teenage phase where he would run off from the clans, this time hanging out with the rouges that lurk around the clan territory. This is how he gains his disbelief in starclan, i think eventually getting his ass beat at some point which makes him realized that clan cats aren’t the only bitches who b fighting lol. he then settles back into his clan life pretty easily!

requests for warrior cat hypokits are open!

[pedrospookie]

so it’s been exactly one year since I went through a very difficult break up (the kind that simply rips your heart out of your chest and makes you feel like you’re trying to breathe underwater).

aside from this almost relationship, I’ve been single for 7 years and in this time I’ve learned so much about myself and have grown to love my own company. I’ve achieved so many of my goals and dreams and have busted my ass towards my career. it is amazing to look back and see how far I’ve come and I am so fucking proud of myself.

but fuck the loneliness sucks.

I have a tough relationship with my folks, I don’t have a lot of friends, I travel for a living so I’m never anywhere long enough to settle and have a life. I am more than fine during the day, but at night? I yearn for someone to genuinely ask me how my day went, or to stand up to my mom for me, to make the grocery list or wash the dishes because they know I hate washing the dishes. someone who makes my life easier because they love me. someone who will hold me at night, rubbing circles on my back or tell me that they’re just nightmares. someone who will touch me just for the sake of being close, not because they want something from it. someone who loves me for ME, not the person they want me to be or because “they have to”.

and I am grateful I have me, myself and I and the great company that brings. I go on many adventures with myself! that is a gift I will forever cherish. but it would be so nice to not have to navigate everything alone.

I am far from perfect, I have issues, but I will always try. try to be better, try to do better, try to crack open that hard shell to show you my soft inside, to be vulnerable and honest with how I feel even if that scares me. I just hope to find someone patient and gentle enough to handle me.

so until then, I will read my cheesy lover girl books and my soft!Joel Miller fics and dream of Pedro and the other charming men who make me feel safe. I’ll do my shitty watercolour paintings because it brings my inner child joy and rollerblading with all of my dorky padding.

I just hope for me, myself and I that I find the person who brings me that peace. a man who shows up for me. a man who makes my life easier.

I feel annoying for saying “a man” “a man” “a man” blah blah blah BARF, but I also have to be honest with myself and how I feel and this is where I feel most comfortable sharing that.

alas.

[caeslxys]

"I’ve seen a lot of people say that the Hells will side with the gods and I don’t think I agree. Especially as Imogen has been scolded and villainized over and over for daring to try and save her mother—who herself has been seen by some as an irredeemable evil in spite of her drive being the exact same—her family—but when it’s the Gods it’s justified? When it’s the Gods, it’s sympathetic? Too sympathetic to criticize further than “they’re family”?"

good meta op, but i'm slightly confused about this part. are you talking of the fandom here or the narrative? because from what i've seen and remember, imogen has definitely been scolded or villanized as you say, by the fandom, but has she been treated that way by the hells or anyone else? i guess keyleth comes to mind, but apart from that, the hells seemed supportive of her wanting to reach out and reconcile with her mom.

Prefacing what i'm sure will be an overly long mostly tangent: you obviously do not have to agree with my interpretations of any scene I'm about to bring up and if you don't sick cool please do not make it a problem

A bit of both, to be honest! The use of the word “villainizing” was definitely more geared toward fandom response, but Imogen has absolutely been scolded—or maybe shamed is the better word—in campaign several times! Yes by Keyleth threatening her in front of them all just for being ruidusborn and related to Liliana, but also by Orym in particular several times.

Which is not to say that Orym doesn’t want Imogen to save her mother—obviously he does!—but it has definitely been more than once that he has shut down her grief and her processing her relationship with her mother by inserting his own grief over it, notably in the immediate aftermath of Ruidus and convo with Liliana.

(Which, yes, he immediately apologized for, but I do find it interesting that Imogen got shit from fandom for her response in the scene I'm about to bring up in episode 49 for EVER but no one was allowed to criticize Orym's response as impulsive and insensitive there and he notably was not disassociating or being actively manipulated. Just think it's interesting!)

And while it wasn’t nearly so livid in it’s delivery, that moment in 49 where she was just trying to process seeing her mother and speaking with her and being presented with the idea of peace for the first time in her life was delivered (though you could argue this wasn’t his intent; honestly I don’t think it was, but—) in a way that immediately had her plummeting into self-deprecating apologies for being effectively manipulated. I’ve actually written a bit before about how I find the youth of his grief making it more volatile in comparison to the rest of the hells’ grief deeply compelling as a thematic beat!

That’s a bit of a tangent just bc I find specifically the dynamic between Orym/Imogen/Liliana to be a very compelling one lmao but even in the Uthodurn arc with Chetney insight checking her to see if she was telling the truth or not about her intentions with her mother. Or Fearne bringing up to Orym (also back in 49) the question of what they planned to do with/to her if she turned. It's not that I think, necessarily, that those were ill intentioned but they were coming from a place of, at best, mistrust specifically because of her connection to Liliana. Really only Ashton and Laudna—and FCG, funnily enough—have not in some way taken her grief and yearning and turned against her when it comes to placing their trust in her (whether she was aware they did so or not), which of course speaks to a certain interpretation they had of her character at the time.

And, also, this has obviously since changed and most of them mostly understand where she’s coming from now—especially Orym!—but it doesn’t make the fact that it happened any less true!

[moccahobi]

Tangled Mess: The Park

Summary: You texted Hoseok asking to meet up at the park you met at. Hoseok is nervous.

Paring: Hoseok x GN Reader, Yoongi x Jungkook

Genre: Soulmate AU, Grad School AU, Young Professional AU, Angst, Fluff

Warnings: A Breakup

Word Count: 787 words

A/N: One more wrap up! I hope you all enjoyed this series as much asI have~

Tag List: @@daisies-and-dandelionpuffs

Part 13 << Masterlist >> Next Part

Hoseok looked around the park, taking in the familiar green spaces, the people resting in the sunlight, and the dogs running around. Once again, he’s at the closest park to his apartment. Normally he only spends time here when his work was extremely stressful. Long days stuck in the library made Hoseok yearn for a bit of fresh air and green. Somehow being here for a reason other than that filled him with a sense of wrongness and anxiety. For too long this place has been associated with releasing stress and exhaustion, but less stress during the semester was different than less stress during a break. 

You were late. Hoseok didn’t know why you’d texted him asking to meet here already but now you were late and that was making him more confused. You weren’t often late to things. In fact, unless something was actively delaying you, you often were waiting for Hoseok by the time he arrived. 

“Excuse me!” A child ran up to him, their eyes shy and apprehensive, and they barely looked at Hoseok. They looked anxious  and that made him feel worse, “Do you think you could take a photo of me and my dog? My mom is off somewhere and I need this photo now.”

They held out a battered phone.

Hoseok nodded slowly, taking the phone and watching the child run off to a dog by the water fountain. After taking these photos, he would ask the kid if they needed help finding their mom. The kid seemed too anxious to be here without their mom. 

After taking a few photos though, the kid ran up and grabbed the phone and ran away. Hoseok turned around calling out to the kid to make sure they were ok but quickly the words were silenced.

You were standing with a big bouquet of flowers and giving the kid a wad of money. 

“What’s happening here?” Hoseok asked as he got closer, confusion growing as the kid giggled and ran away. 

“My cousin wanted to help.” You said with a shrug, a small smile stuck on your face as you took Hoseok in. 

“Help with what?” 

You took in a deep breath, “Well… I… Gosh this is hard and I practiced it.” 

Hoseok came closer, rubbing your shoulder to try to comfort you, “You got this. There’s no rush.” 

Except Hoseok was wishing you’d spit it out. This was very nerve wracking. His fool heart was screaming at the flowers but his mind thought had no idea what this would possibly be (because it couldn’t be a confession). Why had you paid a kid to get Hoseok to take photos? Why did you have flowers? Why were you so nervous? 

“All the time I’ve known you, you’ve been so thoughtful and kind. I really… like that about you. You’re considerate of everyone and work hard to make space for them. You shine so much. And your so passionate about everything, it’s breathtaking. All this to say, I like you romantically. I know you have a crush on someone and I don’t mean to confess so that you don’t confess to them, but it was on my mind so much and the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I had to tell you because otherwise I’d be full of so much regret. And these flowers are for you, you don’t have to accept them but I just felt like someone as amazing as you deserved something with a confession but Jungkook told me not to do a marching band or a banner or something too over the top.”

“You… like… me?” Hoseok asked slowly, his mind barely computing. 

You nodded, holding out the bouquet for him. 

Slowly he took it and smelled it. He’d never been given a bouquet from a romantic partner or potential romantic partner before. 

“You don’t have to respond or accept! I honestly don’t expect you to. I just had to share. I hope that you’re able to date your crush and that it’s a long lasting relationship. We might need to talk about boundaries and stuff but I don’t mind that. I want what’s best for you.” 

Hoseok looked down at their pinkies. Their hands were so close together that the string was smaller than a pen. Moving his hand closer, the string to smaller. Grabbing your hand, he watched as the string almost disappeared. 

“When Jieun said I had a crush, they were referring to you.” 

A large smile grew on your face, “Me?” 

He nodded, readjusting the bouquet and pulling you into a hug. It was awkward because he also refused to let go of your hand but it was magical to Hoseok. 

“You.”

[andro-dino]

been thinking about ryoma and victoria again...... so i wanted to ask, how much does sakyo specifically remember of ryoma? since he died when he was pretty young, did his entire impression of him rely on victoria's memory? how much of ryoma did victoria tell sakyo, what did she say about him?

oghhhhh my god kurayami family,,,,,, now these are the questions.

In the timeline I have in my head, I’ve placed ryomas death around four years after Sakyo was born, so Sakyo doesn’t have *no* memories of him, but they are very minimal. They lived in their little cottage in the mountains for the duration of the domestic life they had together, so I think a lot of Sakyo’s early memories are of the area and nature around where they lived. Again in the timeline in my head, Sakyo ends up returning to that busted up old cottage after Victoria dies to try to find any remnants or answers that might have been left there, which is when he takes Ryoma’s dragon claw belt, so I think he remembers a lot of the area very vividly. I like to think that the three of them went out on a lot of walks and mini adventures together around the area. I like to think that sakyo remembers and thinks of his father as a caring, gentle person, especially given that a lot of the stories Victoria told about him were about how he used to be real tough and mean but softened up after he met her, though Sakyo did also pick up on how ryoma was hiding something early on as well. He had a lot of these far away looks and even when he looked at Sakyo with so much affection and pride, there was something else behind it that Sakyo never quite knew what to think of or how to describe, but it burned into his memory very vividly. He only gradually started putting together some of the pieces later on when it was just him and Victoria. Victoria spoke very highly of ryoma and talked a lot about his passion, his drive, how he loved them and how he always wanted to protect them and protect Sakyo and wanted the best for him. She talked about how he changed and grew so much after she met him and how they helped each other and supported each other because she earnestly wants Sakyo to have the best impression of him he can. She also did a lot to enrich Sakyo in his Mexican heritage and family, as well as what she could of his Japanese culture as well, since I think she would hold the belief that culture and heritage is very important as is, but also because she feels kind of bad that she can’t really teach him anything about the dragon clan since ryoma never even told her much about it himself. All she really knows is that they weren’t great and that ryoma needed to get away from them and never wanted to impart anything they taught him onto Sakyo. Obviously though, kids are curious, and especially being taught about his moms side of the family and all that but never his dads, he wants to know more, and Victoria feels so bad that she can’t say anything more than that Ryoma’s family weren’t really the best. Manga timeline gives them time to try to understand and seek out more information together, especially when Victoria finds out about and meets the shishiyas, but anime timeline, with just everything else and other priorities happening in mind, Victoria never really got the time to be able to give Sakyo any answers before she passed.

Beyond just being curious, Sakyo also feels that calling that is inherent to his dragon blood, and the gaps in his knowledge that ryoma left him with really only increase that yearning to understand more about who he is and where he came from in that regard (see Inai by tricot and how that is now a kurayami family song to me). If im thinking about this right, it would be around this time that Sakyo has heard a lot about Ryuga and I think would feel drawn to him in some kind of way, especially with the resemblance that he bears to Ryoma, and so it would be then that he goes out to his childhood home to find anything Ryoma had about the dragon clan n things left and starts out properly on his journey as a blader and receives dragoon and takes up the role of ryuga’s successor. I think it’s an odd kind of feeling for Sakyo because he really mostly only has fond memories of his father and what Victoria told him about him, but the kind of desperation that he feels to understand more of himself and knowing that that is a gap that was left in him because of ryoma, it kind of builds a kind of resentment towards him in Sakyo. He doesn’t like that he feels this way and part of him knows that it’s not entirely fair to think of him that way, but a lot of the grief that Sakyo wasn’t able to process manifests in a really bad blend of sadness and anger towards ryoma, which only ends up combined with the general kind of personality that he develops, both naturally and in part because of his idolization of ryuga.

[perilegs]

i was supposed to continue ati's rerun earlier today but i ended up booting dao. and then getting distracted for several hours. but i'm so back now! does anyone want to read about 5 pages of notes i've made about her as i've been playing? idc about the answer, here they are <33

Origin:

Killed one of the humans as an example. She can be very distrustful of them near her clan.

Cocky, Brash, A bit rude, very sure of herself, kinda rude and a menace, loves her mom (Ashalle). 

Is protective of the clan but like, physically, not verbally. As in, she will eliminate physical threats or ruffle a kid’s hair for doing a good job or put in extra effort to ask someone how they’re doing and sitting with someone if they seem like they need it or whatever. She does care. But she’s not going to say how much she cares out loud. She prefers to show it in other ways. Ati would find herself flustered if she actually had to tell someone how much love she has. That’s embarrassing. She can eventually sometimes be a bit less emotionally stunted around those she trusts.

“When mommy elf and a daddy elf love each other very much…” upon asked how the dalish came to be

Cannot bear the thought that maybe there was something that she could have done to stop Tamlen’s fate. “Why are you looking at me like that. It’s not my fault.” Very defensive about it.

Don’t cast me away, please

“I don’t want to lose you too.” Did the keeper have to say that. Ati already felt guilty about Tamlen. It would be later when Ati realized the keeper was right, it wouldn’t benefit anyone if she just decided to die in her clan. The keeper seems to hold the Grey Wardens in high regard.

Dragged out of the clan, kicking and screaming. Not really, she gave some very teary “I don’t wanna go, please this is all i’ve ever known” goodbyes. It was highly uncharacteristic of the overconfident Atish’an. She was always very sure of herself and raring to go and explore the world, and so very inquisitive, loving to ask questions about anything and everything from the clanmates who did trading with human villages.

Ostagar:

The trip to Ostagar made Ati a bit numb bc she realized there’s really no fighting her fate. More worn out than angry by Ostagar. Clearly unhappy. Still hostile to most, since i guess hostility and overconfidence are the only two acceptable emotions to show to the outside world.

I am no friend of yours, human lord

Finds Alistair alright, maybe a bit annoying (she does not realize they’re both Like That)

Alistair is a major history buff, knows everything about blights, grey wardens, and old gods

Definitely respected Morrigan at first meeting, she could see she was not like most humans, she felt closer to chasind than other humans. Morrigan is a random woman living in the woods and we were the ones who stumbled upon her area. Her mother seems alright albeit a bit. strange…

Tower of Ishal: confused as to tfs going on, she was dragged out of her clan to hold a torch so obviously she’s pissed but something’s not right.. The action is a nice change of pace and helps Ati forget other things. 

Seeing something like the darkspawn orge is enough to change a woman. If the blight isn’t stopped and darkspawn roam Ferelden. What if one of those showed up to her clan? Atish’an doesn’t even dare to think about it. 

Hearing Morrigan tell her the battle was lost, Ati’s stomach dropped. She felt helpless, but she wouldn’t give up on her clan this easily. It would have been humiliating to return now, all of her crying and anger in vain. She can’t yet again be the reason even more of her clanmates lives are lost.

Definitely respects Flemeth for reasons unknown. Ati thinks she has a strange, powerful vibe to her.

Seeing Morrigan’s mother cast her away in such a manner made Atish’an feel a pang in her heart. Morrigan was like her, yearning to experience what it was like outside her home, but not wanting to leave when it came to it. Ati admired Morrigan’s strength in how she handled the matter. Ati decided she’d stick close to Morrigan. Never thought a human could be so similar to herself. 

Lothering:

“yea might as well” type of attitude towards helping people. ati finds it strangely rewarding

“Blood isn’t all that important” @ Bodahn :’)

Ati decided she might as well get to know her companions a bit at camp since she’s going to have to stick with them for a looong time if they want to get help in stopping the blight. And she doesn’t want to feel any lonelier than she already does.

Morrigan dare i ask of your own mother - “I love her. What else do you want to know?” Why did she say that. She might as well have just opened her chest to bare her heart to a complete stranger.

Alistair is helping Ati have her silly moments. She sympathises with Alistair a bit, and is showing him compassion.

Atish’an appreciates the conversations she has with Morrigan. Morrigan seems nice in her own way, and she often says things that force Ati to stop and think. In the long run, it’s helping Ati mature a bit and Morrigan break down her walls.

Redcliffe:

The silly pathetic endearing human she’s been travelling with, who is her senior warden yet leaves all the important decisions to Ati, is technically the heir to the throne. She finds this hilarious

Down bad for the bann. (Ati has licked her fair share of lampposts and then some).

Circle:

Jumping at any chance to defend the mages

Oh? Wynne’s here? She’s kind of annoying but DAMN what a healer. Atish’an is thinking that she would be useful to have around to fight the darkspawn. Baby’s first rational work thought :’)

Loghain sent a fucking assassin after them? Atish’an is terrified but god if being powerful enough to have an assassin sent after you is ego boosting. For some reason beyond her, she doesn’t think Zevran is lying about what he’s saying. It could be because he looks like home. It’s been a while since she’s seen other elves around, and his tattoos remind her of vallaslin. Not that they’re the vallaslin she would regognize.

bislut4bislut but like. completely different brands of it. ati does it for fun whereas zevran is trained to be like that

The way Zevran talks so openly about his past is throwing Ati off. How can he just reveal these things to her? (Does Ati notice how Zevran is undermining his own experiences trying to tell what the crows did was practical and that there were benefits? Does she notice how he feels when Ati tells him what he went through was awful? I am going to cry about Zevran’t approval changes right this second.) 

Hearing Zevran be so very homesick and talking of his home he cannot return to broke Ati’s heart. At least she could eventually go back home. But the chances of Zevran surviving Antiva are slim. It makes Ati sad. She finds Zevran finding comfort in the smell of leather endearing. (I have far more thoughts on Zevran but this is what Ati thinks ok)

Brecilian forest:

Ati can't help but feel relieved after being among her own people after spending so much time with human affairs

Seeing the members of her sister clan in pain pains her too, she's stopped a demon possessing a child, an entire onslaught of undead, and she managed to save a circle tower from abominations beyond what she could have imagined. Ati feels unstoppable. Everything she has done, has worked out so far. It does not help with her cockiness. "I am good at non-trivial tasks."

Seeing the hunters like this… It takes some effort for Ati to not let it show how much of an effect it has on her. She could almost cry

Ati is getting used to Wynne. Ati's missing her mommy disease makes it so that Wynne's presence can be a bit comforting. And she appreciates Wynne's snark.

Wynne with elves who are mistrustful of humans, especially humans in authority seems to be a theme.

Seeing Danyla was painful. Atish'an knows she must be killed to end her suffering. It doesn't make it any easier. It's something that won't leave Ati. She's seen her fair share of death and suffering but this was something she couldn’t have prepared for.

Sided with the elves and the werewolves. Ati thinks Zathrian's actions were originally justified, but the clan is suffering and. Well. The current werewolves, though they are humans, they aren't the evil heartless creatures that originally assaulted Zathrian's children. They were just people who happened to be born to those people.

Leliana gets on Ati's nerves a bit every so often. "They are serfs. There is no slavery in Orlais." But. Leliana actually listens to Atish'an when she challenges her beliefs. It's refreshing.

Oh… Leliana also has a dead bio mom who had a friend Leliana considers a mother figure.

Denerim:

Ati got Sten at 100% approval after questioning him about qunari children. Her inquisitive nature and snark are a hit.

Ati approves after Alistair defended her to Goldanna. She was about to go off but Alistair's firm response was enough to not make her lose her marbles.

Denerim market district is a lot to take in. Ati has never seen a city this big so full of life everywhere. It's a bit overwhelming

Ati heard there was some Howe leading a purge in the alienage. She would show him no mercy would they ever cross paths

Haven:

"Kadan" Atish'an does not know what the word means, but she can feel its weight. Kadan. She thinks she feels the same way about Sten. Sten said he trusted her with his life… Also Ati appreciates someone who will challenge her. 

Ash wraiths look insane. Ati WILL have nightmares of them for years to come.

Okay so. There's a cult leader who wants to defile a relic holy to andrastians. Atish'an will not do that, but Father Kolgrim and his disciples seem like tough opponents. It would be smart to agree to do what he asked of her, and betray him, but Ati doesn't believe this guy could beat her. She's slayed several drakes in the past few hours, what's one guy?

The guardian mentions Tamlen and Atish'an's stomach drops. How does he know? Ati wants to leave. She doesn't want to be here any longer. She could say that her answer is her own, but a yes slips from her mouth. I could have searched harder. Atish'an knows Tamlen is dead, but, she never saw the body. The thought of the possibility of him being in the cave all alone looking for help has never left her mind. What if she did something when he touched the mirror? Why did she answer? Zevran commented on Ati's "self-flagellation," maybe he had a point, but Ati would not think about what he said for a while longer. No one had any fun here. Everyone paused for a couple of moments before moving on into the next room

This place fucking sucks. They really had to bring the Tamlen from Ati's heart here, and make him talk to her in front of everyone. She's heartbroken. Tamlen too told her she should stop blaming herself. But Ati knows Tamlen would do the same in her shoes. Who is anyone to tell her how to grieve? This was cruel.

Okay. Having to kill herself has been the least miserable part of the journey so far

Having to take all your clothes off in front of everyone was a bit weird in this context. 

Normally, Ati would think that she shouldn't be the one touching a relic so sacred to others, but she's too done to care about anything right now. She just wants out.

Yeah sure tell pilgrims to come here, whatever.

Finally, back at camp. Atish'an had a horrible dream about the archdemon. As soon as she woke up from it, the camp was ambushed. Tamlen? It. It can't be. He has been lost to the taint. Ati is frozen, she doesn't know what to do. She knows this isn't the Tamlen she knows, but, there's still some of it inside of him

"I don't want to talk about it." Alistair was the only one who saw what happened up close. Further away in the camp, the rest of Ati's companions are joking about the darkspawn attack. No one knows what exactly she just witnessed. Good.

-> inevitable what changes about you after the Joining. Alistair's humor does make Ati feel a bit more grounded after all this, but it's a good thing that this time, Alistair answered the question without further prodding.

"That's when a warden knows his time has come." Oh.

What happened to Tamlen, will eventually happen to her too. This is what the taint does to a person

30 years… It sounds like a lot of time, but. The inevitability of death looms over.

Returning ash & Denerim sidequests:

Leliana tells Ati she feels herself slipping, there is a part of her that loves the hunting and killing. I personally rlly dont want to harden Leliana, but, Ati sees nothing wrong with this, she tells Leliana to not punish herself for doing something she enjoys. Bc obviously Ati wouldn't know what saying that does to Leliana.

I almost thought I should've picked that Leliana is a good person, because Atish'an and Leliana a 100% have always agreed on basic human rights. Like not letting Sten starve even though he's a murderer, and letting Jowan go. But it wouldn't have fit Ati. Bc as much as she believes in not torturing people and letting people who regret their actions redeem themselves, she does enjoy putting a stop to someone who has time and time again wronged others (=not showing any regret or willingness to change or showing active want in wanting to continue inhumane treatment of others), like Howe. Who she will murder in cold blood once she visits the Alienage. But, not starving murderers and letting mages go free is not a sign of a good person to Atish'an, it's a given. Self evident. It's the obvious choice. It's not something she even thinks about. Letting people be free is built into her. Anyone who actively stops people from having their basic needs (hunger, thirst, freedom, safety) will receive the same mercy they show to others.

Which is to say, Atish'an definitely has a strong sense of justice. But the other side of that blade is that she will just straight up murder someone. the rest of this point is something i wrote way earlier and i’m not a 1000% sure what i meant by it (is there a typo?) but it’s probably too important to delete -> Btw her protectiveness doesn't get in the way of her justice. You might be thinking "Didn't Ati kill one of the humans as an example?" Which, correct. But she did it to protect her clan and she didn't deny food or water or enprison or torture them in any other way. She just murdered someone because she thought it was a just action. Idk how to explain this in a way everyone will understand what i mean and not reduce my dear Atish'an to a very one dimensional character.

Flemeth is dead, Morrigan is free and happy. It's refreshing to see her worries lifted

Orzammar:

Atish'an has never seen anything quite like this. Being underground is, well, unnerving to say the least. But the structures are grand. Ati had always wondered what Orzammar would look like, but she never in a million years could have guessed she'd actually end up visiting.

Dagna's enthusiastic interest in the world outside of her reach seems familiar

Atish'an thinks everyone is entitled to their own religion and not one is better than another. But she will absolutely not help anyone "spread the chant."