#he rounds a building and he freezes as three sets of eyes fall on him: one familiar and two that are not | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

madmarchhare · 1 year ago

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Report from the Ministry of Internal Affairs

October 14th , 05:01:00, 1983

Volkov strode down the main street towards the ministry building, walking with a broad yet humble gait over the freezing pavement completely unbothered by it. It was that time of day when the sickly light of day just began to assail the night, tinging it purple-pink before it would later fall into the chill blue of autumn.

The street was reasonably wide, long rectangular flower plots made of concrete and filled with cold soil, the wildflowers in them having withered from the cold, watched by the young poplars and birch that were planted equally down the lane, leafless and thin glistening with dew and overeager frost. She came to the ministry building itself after a short time, it taking rather little time for her to walk anywhere with her stature. The building was rather typical in construction compared to the uniqueness and speciality of much of the rest of the city. It was a three storey building, the first floor being mostly reserved to an entrance hall and cleaning staff and supplies, the second being where Volkov and others worked, with one half being for the other half of the directorate. She had never been to the top floor, as it was primarily the office of the MVD Minister, and that was as much as she was allowed to know. In appearance it was both grand and unassuming. It was rectangular, lacking any rounded corners or a peaked roof, covered in clean white plaster and a great number of windows, the space around them slightly embossed from the buildings façade with coulombs set on the corners of the building.

She was stopped at the guard point at the front of the property, just in front of the top of a set of stairs, the whole building being on a slight raise in the terrain. It was staffed by militsiya[1] dressed in their grey uniforms, lined with red. They were a new officer, one who Volkov had not encountered before, having greyish skin and a somewhat clammy appearance smelling of salt water. He went over the documents she handed him, his fellow guard standing with his hands in his coat as he watched the street, a great convoy of construction vehicles trundling down the lane, bar tall lorries which had to avoid the tram cables.

“Everything seems to be in order Comrade Volkov,” he asserted reaching up to hand her back the documents as he nodded to her, his peaked hat rocking over his fish-tail like ears, looking up at the woman with monocolour eyes.

“Thank you very much Praporshik[2],” she bade, nodding kindly to the man and his partner in turn before walking to the building entrance. The entrance hall was well lit, a pair of armed militsiya lingering at each corner of the room, stood in black boots gripping AK-74u’s in black, wool line gloves, hugging the carbines to their chests. Volkov saw her friend, Svetlana Yakovlevna[3] sat at the reception desk. Volkov gave her a warm wave, but only received a flippant acknowledgement in return, the woman appearing listening closely to a phone set she pressed against her hear, writing something down. She didn’t let it bother her and instead continued on to the stairs and climbed up to the second floor, making sure to mind her head. The second floor was busy, the sound of hushed conversation coming from the main office hall.

She turned into the room, seeing the other fifty workers stuffed into the room dressed in their best clothes, having taken some extra time to groom themselves. “Lyudmila!” Volkov heard someone call, turning to the sound of her name. A smile crept across her face as she saw her friends gathered in a corner of the room, striding over to them. She towered over the three of them, not that any of the three minded.

One, Rin Shigemitsu[4], was a bakeneko[5], having emigrated from the NJK[6]. He stood at about 5’6” though slouching from a wounded leg to 5’5”. He had calico coloured hair which he let grow rather long, each eyebrow a different colour, along with electric yellow eyes. He wore a tired, pale coffee coloured suit with padded shoulders, specially ironed for today, along with a pair of polished boots.

Next to him was a creature that was about 5’11”, made of a twisting, undulating mass of coiling white nerves vaguely resembling a human shape stuffed into a grey suit. They hovered rather than stood, regarding the other three silently watching with a pair of suspended unblinking eyes that ever only seemed to exist from the front. They tended, when a voice was unnecessary, to sign using their hands which were always covered in white gloves. Generally everyone called him Molcha.

Finally was Aleksandra Constantinova Slava[7], she was a tall, box-shouldered woman, about 6’ wearing a green suit jacket over a long cream dress. She had a harsh, cocky face set in a shot-fox grin, fitting as she was part fox herself, colouring her chin length hair. She had been the one to call Lyudmilla’s name looking her over with an appraising expression. “Good morning Alek,” she greeted her friend with a warm smile, bending over slightly to get closer to eye level.

“Morning,” she answered simply, not turning her eyes away from the door.

“I saw the Supervisor at the metro last night,” Lyudmilla remarked, receiving a curious look from Alek and Rin.

“Really? Did you ask him who the new hire was like?” Alek asked interestedly, turning to her friend as her attention shifted from the door. At this Volkov took on a slightly sheepish expression.

“Ah, no. I forgot to ask,” she admitted regretfully, receiving an exasperated look from Alek.

“Ah come on, that’s what everybody’s curious about!” she grumbled crossing her arms over her chest in agitation.

“It’s not like she’d have got an answer. The man isn’t the type for a chat,” Shigemitsu commented, limping forward.

“He seems quite nice,” Volkov chipped in, defending her supervisor in his absence. Shigemitsu clicked his tongue in polite disagreement.

“He makes me uneasy. I can’t read the man, he’s never said a single word to be that wasn’t related to work, and I’ve never seen him once outside this building. If it weren’t for other’s hearsay I’d think he was a house spirit for this place, more likely than him being the only human in the department as standing,�� Shigemitsu continued in a hushed tone, careful to not let himself be heard.

Almost at the mention of his word Iveshnya walked through the entrance of the office, accompanied by a pair of stern faced men who appeared to be Soviet officials and a KGB[8] officer looming behind them. Iveshnya wore a similar suit as the day before, this time with a plain white shirt with French cuffs, worn with cufflinks bearing the Naval ensign of the Soviet Military Maritime Fleet[9]. In addition to that he wore a few medals on the left breast of his jacket. The first was a set of three medals, gold silver and bronze respectively, each a circle with a raised rim, a red five pointed star in the middle with a hammer and sickle with rays coming from the star surrounded by a laurel wreath. The ribbon was an irregular pentagon, made of red and edged in green with either one, two or three yellow stripes down the centres’[10], the only other one was a medal of a similar size with a much simpler design, simply a raised rim on a silver medal covered with Cyrillic that could not be read hung from a red and blue striped ribbon[11].

He regarded the room with a severe look, instantly quelling the clamour to silence, as if he had just snuffed out the wick of a candle. “Good morning comrades,” he droned in a flat tone, standing to attention in a bored sort of way, yet still perfectly stood as he was watched by the other three men. “Today, in addition to a tour of this directorate for members from the Supreme Soviet and from the central party, we will be receiving a new member for this department from Moscow,” Iveshnya spoke clearly and precisely, watching the room with his dead fish eyes. He let his words sit for a moment before beginning again, “Mr. Deriabin,” he called, not turning his head as he did. The Muscovite came forward, nervously side stepping the officials by the door.

The most distinct feature of the man as he walked in was the tick white fur that crowed his neck, almost shaped like a diamond as it blended into where one would expect a man’s ears to be. Instead of course a pair of rabbit ears stood to attention on the top of his head. His face was mostly human in structure, though covered with white fur and with rabbit-like eyes that glanced curiously but warily across the room. He was dressed in a black suit that harshly clashed with his own fur, pressed out in the front by the thick fur on his chest, a slit in his trousers for a triangular shaped tail. It made the man cut a somewhat effeminate figure as he stood before the hall on digitigrade feet.

“It is a pleasure to meet you all,” he greeted in a firm voice, but one you could tell was not his normal tone. Iveshnya glanced at the lagomorph to his right before continuing.

“I shall leave you to get acquainted with your new Comrade as the Ministers and I continue on. Miss. Slava, I trust you will help Mr. Deriabin with any troubles he encounters?” Iveshnya ordered, catching Alek off guard.

“Yes, Comrade Supervisor!” she asserted, rapidly summoning her confidence. The man gave an unemotive nod in acknowledgement then turned to leave, the other ministers doing the same. As he came astride of Deriabin he softly gave him an order.

“You will report to my office at the end of the day,” walking on before the man had a chance to respond. The ministers left and continued down the hall, leaving the room in silence until they could no longer hear their footfalls. As soon as they were out of earshot the room descended on the fresh blood like sharks. Alek was quick to weave her way through the crowd to get an introduction in.

“Hello Mr. Deriabin, it is nice to meet you,” she greeted, grabbing his hand and shaking it firmly.

“Ah, you too, Miss…?”

“Aleksandra Constantinova, as you likely heard I am here to help you if you have any problems,” she asserted confidently, not at all presenting the air that she’d suddenly had the role dropped onto her at just that moment. Not that she was upset at Iveshnya for the role, particularly as Deriabin was as easy on the eyes as she had hoped the new hire would be. “Now what should we call you?” she asked kindly, smiling up at him with distinctly sharp yellowish teeth.

“Oh, call me Zablud, but Za or Sha is fine,” he answered, a nervous smile coming across his face. He was paraded through the room like a new Tsar being bombarded by greetings and questions in equal measure, only just managing to issue a few of the former himself before he was dragged elsewhere. Eventually, as the others were beginning to retreat back to their work, Alek brought her Duraibin back to her friends.

“Last but not least,” Alek smiled as she showed the man off to the three like some prized game she had just hunted. Za looked nervously up at the towering creature that was Volkov, feeling quite suddenly like prey as she looked kindly down at him, trying her best to not inspire the feeling in the man.

“Lyudmila Yurievna[12], it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Volkov greeted warmly, offering a clawed hand. He shook her hand with a smile, trying to smother his internal screams of terror as he did so. Volkov noticed, unlike her friends, but didn’t press him on it, simply letting go of his hand and standing slightly further back for his sake, but not far enough to be commented on.

“Likewise,” Za agreed with a glancing at her a second longer before looking at the other two strangers he was to be introduced to. Molcha nodded to him and stepped forward, shaking his hand.

“They call me Molcha, it is a great pleasure to meet you Mr. Zablud,” he said, speaking with a distant, harsh voice, as if it was coming from a badly tuned radio, and spoken in a refined diction, as if one was speaking to an old Tsarist or a language teacher. Za exchanged his greeting then turned to Rin, the bakeneko watching the man suspiciously.

“Shigemitsu,” he said simply, watching the man coldly to the slight irritation of Alek but not necessarily surprise. He was known to be rather prickly to new people… not that that pervaded him from acting that way to people he had know a long time either. If Deiabin was affected by the coldness he didn’t show it, simply offering a slight smile to the man. Alek glared at Shigemitsu but the man simply turned away with a sour expression, moving over to his desk.

“Sorry about him… he is a nice guy when you get to know him. Anyway, I think it would be a good idea to show you some of your duties here, so if you’ll follow me,” Alek apologized to Za before gesturing for him to follow her. Volkov and Molcha waved them off before turning to get to their own work.

As Volkov walked back to her desk she came up to Shigemitsu, “Are you alright? Why were you so cold to him?” she asked earnestly, a mildly concerned look on her black face.

He glanced up to her, a sour expression on his face as he limped forward, “I’m worried why he’s here… Its not exactly normal to get someone sent over from Moscow to out here in the middle of nowhere now is it?” he answered bluntly not explaining any further. Volkov looked at him with a pensive look seeing his point.

When the day was over, Deriabin made his way to Iveshnya’s office. It was dark outside, the hall lit solely by the dead lights overhead. He stopped outside the door, shuffling on his feet slightly before rapping his knuckles on the door. “Come in,” Iveshnya droned, his voice cutting, though muffled, through the thin plywood door. Deriabin opened the door, stepping into the small room. The first thing he saw was Iveshnya, wearing a dry expression on his face as he went through a stack of documents in front of him, sat in front of his desk. The walls were covered with maps, from topographical, military installations and more, with photographs of party leaders and leaders of the MVD and KGB placed between them. Along with that, there was a small chair in front of the desk close to Deriabin, which Iveshnya idly gestured for him to sit in. As soon as he sat in the chair Iveshnya piped up, “would you care for a cigarette?” not looking up from his documents as he asked him.

“Oh, uh, yes,” Deriabin replied, Iveshnya reaching into a drawer and pulling out a pack of Soyuz-Apollo[13] cigarettes, which just so happened to be Deriabin’s favourite brand, but one he could not get often. Iveshnya opened the pack and tapped a cigarette out, holding out his arm for Deriabin to take it from the pack. “Thank you,” Deriabin said, slightly more at ease, “… are you not having one?”

“No, I don’t smoke,” he replied flatly, confusing Deriabin slightly. “Now, Zablud Oleninivich Deriabin[14],” Iveshnya resumed, not allowing the man time for his confusion, “as you were no doubt informed, this is a unique posting. The directorate for information was established by the MVD in conjunction with both the KGB and the GRU[15] as a way to keep watch of anything and everything they don’t want to be seen by any… foreign or possibly harmful elements that may enter the Soviet Union,” he continued, lifting his eyes from his document that he allowed to rest on the desk as he stiffly inspected the white rabbit in front of him.

“Yes, of course,” Deriabin replied, holding his unlit cigarette between his fingers as he rested his hands on his legs, sitting up straight as he looked tensely at his supervisor. Iveshnya met his gaze with a dismissive look through half lidded eyes. He shoved a nickelled lighter over the desk to Deriabin who picked it up from the table with a wary look before lighting his cigarette, puffing on it nervously.

“So then of course there comes the question of why they sent you,” Iveshnya blurted out just as Deriabin took a long drag, sending him into a coughing fit as silver smoke spewed from him like a broken log burner.

“P-pardon?” he wheezed out, but his superior ignored him and continued.

“You, as far as the report I have received tell me, are nothing but an amateur, having worked only briefly within the MVD office in Moscow following a fleeting failure within the militsiya. You have never once ventured outside Moscow, bar from a single visit to Leningrad where you slept with over a quarter of the city, regardless of sex, while in a drunken stupor,” Iveshnya continued, humiliation and fear twisting Deariabin’s expression, only his thick fur preventing his face turning blood red from blushing.

“… And yet,” Iveshnya continued, “my superiors both here and in Moscow insisted upon you, singing your praises. So you will remain as long as you can fulfil your duties well, which, I am sure you will,” he finished, whatever scepticism that was in his voice being overshadowed by the silent threat that pressed itself at the rabbit’s throat.

“Of course, comrade supervisor,” Deriabin replied, almost quailing as he spoke, stock still in his chair. He watched him with a flat expression on his face for a moment or so before glancing away.

“Well then lets leave that for now. On a separate matter, have your sorted out your commute as yet?” Iveshnay asked simply.

“Ah, not as yet,” he answered somewhat sheepishly.

“Hm, you’ve met Mr. Shigemitsu I assume?” Deriabin nodded, “I believe both he and you live in the same building so I recommend that you go back with him. He has a car, a SMZ S-3D[16] he received due to his leg. You should be able to catch up with him today if you go now, it takes him quite a while to get to the carpark with his leg how it is, and he refuses to have a cane,” he explained calmly, as if the whole thing was common knowledge.

Deriabin looked at his superior with a bewildered look, unable to stop himself before he asked, “How do you know all of this?” Iveshnya regarded him at the edge of his sight.

“I don’t think that is your business, Mr. Deriabin,” Deriabin’s thoughts could not help but think ‘but it’s somehow yours?’ but his common sense stopped him from saying it aloud. “You are dismissed, I hope to see you tomorrow Mr. Deriabin,” Iveshnya said in a flat tone, signalling that Deriabin was no longer welcome in the office. The man clearly wanted to say something more, not least ask how to get to the carpark, but Iveshnya, without even moving, was making it quite clear that he would not be asked any questions.

“Of course, Comrade Supervisor,” he eventually muttered back, bowing out of his chair before leaving through the door, not turning his back to his superior, as if he was a wild animal. As soon as he stepped out of the office, he felt the tension he had ignored buckle his legs, struggling to stand up. He was a far more intimidating man than Volkov.

He pulled himself back together after a moment and began to make his way out of the building, stopping at the front desk to ask where the carpark was located. The woman at the front desk told him that it was a complex further into the city. When he eventually got there, after going through the checkpoint and walking through the dimming streets, hearing the long echoes of constructions as the sites wound down for the evening, he saw the entrance. It was a reasonably large, and ultimately like the city it was built in, uninhabited complex. It was generally intended as a cooperative garage[17] when the city was completed, though far better built than its contemporaries, swapping the kit made metal barns for solid concrete garages that were slightly larger than normal, though only slightly, and covered in pleasant pastel colours that looked drained in the autumn evening, grey-black overhead.

He saw Shigemitsu ahead, opening the door to a garage close to the entrance for the cooperative. Deriabin sped up slightly to reach him, stopping just near the entrance. “Ah, Mr. Shigemitsu,” he called out, causing the bakeneko to stop still as he went to open the door to his car.

He glanced up at Zablud, a tired expression on his face, “What are you doing here?” he questioned somewhat irately.

“Ah, Mr. Iveshnya told me that we are both live in the same building, and that I should go back with you, as you have a car,” Zablud replied somewhat sheepishly, unsure weather or not to be apologetic.

Sigemitsu’s expression broke into an infuriated mess within a moment, gritting his sharp teeth, “Iveshnya you…!” he began to curse under his breath but stopped, partially because he knew it wouldn’t help much, but also out of a wariness for the new recruit, and why he had been sent. Ironically, in much the way Iveshnya was.

“… Fine, get in. Not like I have much of a choice anyway,” he grumbled, opening his own door and getting in, taking a moment with his wounded leg. Zablud grinned nervously and bent down to open the door of the car before stepping down into the low vehicle. It was painted shock green, a colour repeated on the metal dash, contrasted slightly with the grey carpet and seats. He glanced over to Shigemitsu as he got himself seated, seeing him move to start the vehicle, all the controls being placed on the steering wheel and dashboard. After a moment the engine sputtered into life, the two-stroke creature roaring its two-voice call into the night as Shigemitsu pulled the car forward out of the garage, an uninterested look on his face. When he got out of the building into the paved row it sat on he got out after a moments struggle, to Zablud’s confusion until he pulled close his garage door and locked it.

He turned back and got back into the driver’s seat with a blank look, “I could have done that for you,” Zablud commented, attempting to be kind to his impromptu chauffeur, but instead got an incensed look from the man.

“I don’t need your help,” he bit as he set the car into drive and sped it forward… Well, as fast as it would go. It was a rather slow car, having a max speed of about 55 Km/h or 34 Mph. But, more than that, it was loud, its engine echoing through the cities streets as it went. Shigemitsu attempted to muffle it by blaring a radio through the car, though not that the car came with one as standard, so he simply used a portable model that sang out opera over the engine noise. Zablud stared out of the window as they drove, trying to avoid his superior in the small car, watching the increasingly empty scenery as they left the city limits, black plains of tall grass swaying in the heavy winds. The taste of good tobacco still lingered on his teeth, unfortunately made him remember his meeting with Iveshnya, the severe unemotive expression on the man looming large over his thoughts.

He reached into his jacket, fishing around for a moment until he pulled out a pack of cigarettes, hoping to smoke out the taste. They were a Bulgarian brand, Tu-134 after the airliner, and what he usually bought as they were cheap. Before he pulled one out he turned to Shigemitsu and asked, “do you mind if I smoke?” Shigemitsu glanced at him, still keeping one eye on the empty road.

“Lean out the window, I don’t want any smoke in my face,” he answered. Zablud nodded and turned to the window as he pulled out a cigarette from the sky-blue coloured pack, placing it between his lips as he undid the screw that held the windows still before pulling back, wind diving through the opening as soon as the opportunity availed it. He covered the cigarette with his hand and felt for the lighter Iveshnya had given him, trying to push him out of his mind as he lit the cigarette and puffed on it, leaning his head near the window so that the dancing wind could drag the smoke up and out of the car.

After about three hours or so of driving they came to the outskirts of a city. It was where both Shigemitsu and Zablud lived, along with a few other members of the directorate. They were spread out in various cities and villages around Nizki-Gorod until housing in the city was complete, though, it was not guaranteed. The building where the pair lived was close to the city centre, set around a large lush courtyard. What Zablud now paid more notice too was the small steel garage set near the building, as he now guessed that it belonged to Shigemitsu. He was correct.

Shigemitsu stopped the car just ahead of the garage and opened his door, “get out, you can get to your apartment while I put my car away,” he snapped, dragging himself out of his car before limping over to the garage door.

“Thank you… I appreciate it,” Zablud thanked smiling nervously at the man, but got no reply in return as he put his car away. He let his smile fall from his face as he grabbed another cigarette from the pack in his coat and lit it, taking quick, nervous drags from it, smoke puffing from his rabbit like cheeks and twisting around his ears before being dragged away by the wind. He ascended the steps to his floor with his hands in his pockets, the narrow stair cold with the late night air. His room was one the second floor, a single bedroom, but largely similar to Iveshnya’s as both were Kurshchevka’s. He lingered outside his door, smoking, now slower as he thumbed-over his keys in his pocket. As he glared down at the bottom of his door, fretting over his meeting, he glanced at the door of his neighbour.

He had not greeted him yet, as he had been out when Zablud had arrived, but he hoped to make a good impression. He glanced at his neighbours door for a second longer then plucked his keys from his pocket, just as Shigemitsu began to walk down the hall towards him. He wondered what it was for until he stopped outside the door of his neighbours, both men wearing questioning looks until it dawned on them, surprise clear on their faces as they each stood outside their apartments.

[1] Милиция. The name for the police forces of the Soviet Union, a force that worked under the authority of the MVD. Their ranks were generally parallel to the structure of the Red Army.

[2] A rank in both the Soviet army and the militsiya. It is roughly equivalent to a Warrant Officer Class 1 or OR-7/OR-8 for NATO Armies.

[3] Светлана Яковлевна.

[4] 凜重光, when read the Russian way, first name then surname.

[5] 化け猫 Lit. ‘Changed Cat’. A type of Japanese yōkai(Supernatural entity or spirit) more specifically a kaibyō, or supernatural cat. They possess among other abilities, the ability to transform into human form. They are often confused with Nekomata, another cat spirit.

[6] The Peoples Republic of Japan (日本人民共和国), Nihon Jinmin Kyoukakoku. A fictious Soviet satellite state that incorporates Hokkaidō, Tōhoku and Kantō regions in addition to Niigata prefecture, but excluding Tokyo, its surrounding area and a large area to the south of it. To its south is a western aligned Japan, retaining a constitutional monarchy akin to current Japan, and control of Tokyo.

[7] Александра Константинова Слава

[8] Комитет государственной безопасности. The ‘Committee of State Security’ responsible for carrying out internal security, along with the MVD, foreign intelligence, counter-intelligence and secret police functions.

[9] Советский Военно-Морской Флот. The official name for the Soviet navy, commonly nicknamed the ‘Red Fleet’ in the West.

[10] The ‘Medal “For Impeccable Service”’(Медаль “За безупречную службу”) was a decoration in the Soviet Union given for long service to those deserving in the armed forces, MVD or KGB. It was composed for three classes, First, Second and Third for twenty, fifteen and ten years service respectively, with Third class being first given, then following on sequentially.

[11] The ‘Medal “For Distinction in the Protection of Public Order”’ (Медаль “За отличие в охране общественного порядка”) was a decoration in the Soviet Union given to officials and civilians in recognition for distinction in defending public order or preventing crime.

[12] Люд��ила Юрьевна Волкова

[13] Союз-Apollo, a state-brand cigarette in the Soviet Union created in commemoration of the successful Soyuz(Союз) Apollo mission in the 1970’s.

[14] Заблуд Олениневич Дерябин

[15] Главное разведывательное управление. Main Intelligence Directorate, was the foreign military intelligence arm of the Soviet army.

[16] A Soviet car manufactured by Surpukhov Motor Works (Серпуховский Мотозавод), informally known as “motor-wheelchair” or “Invalidka” (инвалидка). They were known as such as they were given, either for free or sold at a heavy discount, to the disabled in the USSR through their welfare system and could not officially be bought by the non-disabled. It was given on a five year lease then had to be returned and later replaced by a new one. The S-3D model here was manufactured from the 1970’s, featuring a body 2.6 meters long, weighing 500kg due to its all-steel construction and powered by a two-stroke IZH-P3 air-cooled engine that had 18 hp.

[17] Кооперативные гаражи. An organization established to allow Soviet Car owners to store their vehicles. It required residents to apply to become a member of the cooperative and pay a fee to store their care on a plot. Garages were not normally built, and a separate kit to build a steel shack-garage had to bought as well. It was the only truly safe option in Soviet cities, however, as auto-theft or parts theft was common.

@thewormsheep @muaviinu @guesst @ghosticosmic @simplelobster @adanaac @truegoist @xatsperesso @toomuchhobbies-toolittletime @sleepy-gry

Part I |

#original writing #creative writing #writing #yokai #writeblr #HMAD #hope like it #please do tell me if you see any spelling mistakes

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quinttee · 16 days ago

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Quinton's Animation Extravaganza 846

0846

Intense Fighting! The Solar Lighthouse

I was enjoying my day with Miyako, Fluttershy and Quinton Jr. Halloween was now only three days away and we were looking forward to throwing our annual Halloween party. While it was fresh on our mind, we prepared Gotokuji Manor for the party. Just then, Dr. Yumeno contacted me. According to him, Starfish Evo was assisting Prince Megiddo in a scheme to take over Glitter Lighthouse in Olivine City in order to use its beam to attack tankers and buildings on sea and on land. I immediately rounded up my fellow Powerpuffs and the Mane Six and we headed for Yumeno Invention Laboratory. When we got there, we found out that the Dynamen were already at the lighthouse, trying to protect it, so we all set out to find them. When we did, they were already fighting Starfish Evo, but their weapons kept being melted by his solar beam. I immediately stepped in and used Blizzard on Starfish Evo, freezing him. The Dynamen then finished him off with their Super Dynamite, but as expected, he underwent the Big Bang Process. My fellow Powerpuffs and I unleashed our monster forms, while the Dynamen summoned their mecha and combined them into Dyna Robo. I proceeded to use Ice Beam on Starfish Evo, dealing significant damage. Dyna Robo then finished him off with its Lightning Gravity Fall. Suddenly, I sensed there being seven Evolution Beasts left to face, but at the same time, I could sense the Jashinka Empire working on a new, stronger type of monster, so we all kept an eye out for whenever Jashinka attacked again.

#AnimationExtravaganza

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coochieko · 5 years ago

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not to be a f*c wr*ter on main but uhhhh i saw a post mentioning the mere Concept of mafia noel+cody and how am i supposed to function without imagining a hundred different, yet equally beautiful scenarios for that?

#my Favorite scenario being:#noel being a mafiadon's son! having to hide his true dream (becoming a subpar comedian) because he can't risk people knowing his background!#cody having an accidental run in with him as he's walking chili one day bc he Swears he loosened his grip on the leash for Just A Second #and chili was OFF!!! SPRINTING INTO THIS ALLEY!!!!! and Obviously cody gollows after him #as he starts whistling for chili and calling out for him he hears a growl and another (deeper) voice asking /hey little dude who're you?/#at first (stupidly enough) cody thinks the voice is talking to him and he is fully prepared to tell this stranger that he is Not Little.#He's Above Average.#(average at Least)#but then he hears a laugh that makes all the butterflies in his gut kick up and that voice going /chill man! you can't just lick strangers!/#then there's that familiar yap he knows and loves and suddenly his feet are moving before his mind can tell him to stop #he rounds a building and he freezes as three sets of eyes fall on him: one familiar and two that are not #chili hops out of stranger's lap where the guy is sitting on some crate and runs so he sighs and catches the little idiot as he leaps at him #the other dog that must have let out the grown cody heard before lets out another (that's much less scary when he sees the size of the pup)#the stranger finally looks away from cody and he finds himself holding his breath as the man laughs and says /ollie chill out you're fine!/#his hand reaches down to pet the little black dog+it seems like it smiles back at him (it's a very nice hand cody might add! he'd smile too)#cody's about to man up and ask the dude (a solid 8.5 in his book at Least) for his number when a voice calls out from behind him #/yo! miller! let's fucking Go dude! that spinnler dude ain't gonna jump Himself!/#and the guy (miller? a last name maybe?) nearly seems to blush as he glances at cody again before shouting /i'm Coming dude! Chill!/#he hurriedly scoops up his dog and speeds past cody with his head down and a muttered /'scuse me/ and cody thinks fast clearing his throat #/hey uh....miller! thanks for finding my dog or.... whatever/ he shouts as the other man's (green? are those green eyes holy-) meet his #the guy laughs back. a solid laugh as he shakes his head. cody hears that other dude shout somethin but its ignored as the guy smirks at him #/don't fuckin call me that man! it's uh. it's noel and it's no problem. see ya cody!/ he says and shoots this dumb little salute his way #he's running out of sight by the time cody stops smiling long enough to actually Think and there's only one thought on his mind:#how the Hell did this cute noel guy know his name?#GOD DAMN IT NOW I GOTTA WRITE IT >:( SHIT #fic concept #tiny meat gang

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whiskeynwriting · 2 years ago

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Lust

Modern!Oberyn Martell x Female Reader

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Word Count: 15k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Mentions of hair, mentions of mental health, flirty Oberyn (always), age gap, praise kink, body worship, oral sex (f receiving), protected vaginal sex, slight cum play

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A/N: Holy motherfucking shit, this idea was absolutely amazing and all thanks to @fishingforpike. I’ve rarely seen Oberyn like this and I’ve never written him in a modern setting before but wow, WOW.

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Just seconds after the paper flops onto your desk, you open your eyes, immediately releasing a disappointed breath. After not doing so well on it the first time, your professor was ‘gracious’ enough to let you retake it. You’d studied for more than ten hours for this exam, how could you fail it again?

“Really?” You whisper incredulously. “Twenty-one percent?!”

Professor McIntosh doesn’t even look at you, he just walks away. You had to beg him to allow you another chance, and now, you’re feeling dumb all over again.

“Professor?” You call timidly, looking up just as he’s sitting down on his desk. “Um, I… I’m not sure how I did so bad… again.”

“Well my dear,” He sighs, glasses tilted down towards the other papers. “Neither am I.”

Heavily, you sigh. Professor McIntosh seems nice, his reviews were good, and his degrees were impressive. But outside of all those details, he was just that, a professor. He only cared as much as he was paid. And he wasn’t paid much.

“I have office hours later today.” He then informs you, deciding to extend to you some extra help. “It’s in the Browning Building. My office is 403, and my hours are between three and five.”

Glancing back down at your paper, an entirely too big F stamped across it. You nod. “Okay.”

Being that you’re on a different campus this year, locating new buildings isn’t exactly an easy thing. It’s about a month into the fall semester, and by now you’re comfortable finding all the buildings that your classes are in. But finding more? That’s not something you expected you’d have to do. Not for another semester, at least.

On your way over to this building, you’d pulled up a map on your phone so you know where to go. It’s about a fifteen minute walk from where you were, all the way on the other side of campus. Great. You hate long walks, you’ve never been a walk-type person. It’s chilly outside, too, and you’re only wearing a pair of yogas and a fleece quarter-zip. But you don’t necessarily mind. The windchill isn’t too high today, and you’re wearing boots so you can successfully avoid any freezing puddles, too.

“Browning, Browning…” Muttering, you continue to scan the buildings, looking at each one of their signs. You’re starting to shiver at this point, so you really need to get inside. “Brown!”

Finally finding the building, you scurry inside, exhaling a swift breath once you're through the front doors. Rubbing your hands together, you think back to what your professor said. 403…three and five. It’s three forty-five right now, so this is prime time for a visit. And once you find the stairs, you make your way up.

Hopefully he’ll be able to tell you which categories to study for his next exam, give you a few pointers on different studying techniques. You were never a bad student, so to get this low of a grade is pretty shocking to you. Inside your bag, you’d brought all of your chemistry supplies, too, your textbook, notebook and pencils. Surely you can get something positive out of this.

“Professor McIntosh?” You ask aloud, your knuckles rapping against the open wooden door. But when you round the corner, that’s not who you see.

Instead of seeing a gray-haired man in his seventies, one who usually wears a black business suit that’s way too tight for him, you see someone… well, completely the opposite. This man has black hair, along with dark facial hair accenting the edges of his jawline and chin, as well as above his lip. He’s wearing a light brown, cashmere polo with a thin, gold chain just barely peeking out between the flaps of his collar. He looks to be in his early forties, and is wearing a pair of what you assume to be reading glasses.

“Can I help you?” The man behind the desk raises a curious eyebrow at you.

“Oh, I um… is…” You poke your head in, looking around. This makes him chuckle. “Is Professor McIntosh here?”

“No,” The man returns, removing his reading glasses. “I’m Professor Martell.”

He does so to get a better look at you. And when he does, he grins, but you don’t even notice it. He can tell you’ve been walking for some time, the cold making your cheeks slightly rosy and the tip of your nose shine. There are strands of hair framing your face, and they don’t exactly look like you styled them to be there. They’re strewn around your once neatly done braid, the majority of it resting on your upper back. You look a bit flustered, which he honestly finds cute. You must be new.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” You sigh, aggravated yet again. “I must have gotten the buildings wrong again.”

“What one were you looking for?”

“Browning - isn’t this it?”

“No,” He responds again, his smile displaying a small dimple. “This is Brown.”

“Wha - I… ugh,” Now, you groan, whining out, “Why would they have two buildings with nearly the exact same name?”

Professor Martell chuckles at your mewling complaint, turning to look over at his computer. He makes a few clicks while you stand there, staring at your phone while trying to figure out where you went wrong.

“Here,” He speaks up, not looking away from his desktop. “I can print you out a map of the campus. It might be better to look at the whole thing instead of your phone.”

At this, you feel a little embarrassed, sliding your phone into your side pocket. You’re also surprised he took it upon himself to print a map out for you.

“Oh… thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He responds kindly, standing to hand the piece of paper to you. “May I know your name?”

“Oh,” You feel a little dumb… once again. You should’ve introduced yourself to him, and now that he’s asked, you do.

His eyes glance over your frame quickly when you give him your name, a pleasant smile once again crossing his face. Sticking his hand out, you take it, shaking it gently. And wow, he’s warm.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you.”

Seeing him up close feels… surreal? Now that he’s standing, you can see his entire outfit. Below his cashmere sweater he’s wearing a pair of black slacks with a belt to match, and Oxford shoes, the same shade as his pants. He’s tall and surprisingly toned. And now that he has your hand, you can see that he’s also wearing a gold watch on his left wrist.

He notices that your eyes are traveling, and when they return to his, you’re met with a smirk. Why do you feel nervous?

“It’s, it’s nice to meet you too, Professor Martell.”

After a moment of eye contact, his brown eyes a mesmerizing hue, he releases your hand.

“I’ve circled the Browning Building on the map for you. So you don’t get lost, next time.”

You look down when he hands it to you. That building looks like another ten minutes away from this one. This time, your irritated sigh is internal.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, I’m happy to help.” Turning around, he makes his way back over to his desk.

From this angle, you practically ogle his back. You can see his muscles move beneath his shirt, his gold chain glimmering in the light of the now-setting sun. Inside, your heart picks up its previously steady beat.

“And please,” He continues, turning around while remaining on his feet. “Feel free to come by if you need help with anything else.”

The way he says it makes you grin, and he mirrors it. Nodding, you glance back down at the paper. Turning around, you give him one glance over your shoulder.

“Thank you.”

You’ll consider it.

Instead of walking another ten minutes across campus without the guarantee of finding the right building, you decide to call it a day and go home. Luckily, your apartment is only a two-minute walk from the Browning Building. And besides, maybe you can just try to study off of your own notes tonight.

As soon as you walk in the door, you’re thankful to meet a small wave of heat. You live alone, so you get to keep the thermostat at whatever temperature you want. One of the many benefits of riding solo, in your opinion.

Before you can even set your bookbag down, you get a text from your best friend.

And you do, taking in the warm water and hoping it will soothe your gradually building headache. Chemistry was a bitch and so was getting used to a new campus. You also have to make a mental note to bring a jacket from now on. You love fall, but fuck the cold.

“Hey,” After drying off and putting on some sweats, you set up shop at your coffee table before calling your best friend.

“Hey! So, what happened today?” She asks, taking a bite of the pasta she apparently made.

Looking down, you organize your pencils and highlighters, flipping through your notebook.

“I got twenty-one percent on that fucking quiz, man.”

“Holy shit! How?!”

“Don’t even ask me, I have literally no idea.”

“Are you studying now?”

“Yeah.” You respond blandly, yawning for a moment.

“You want me to go?”

“No way,” Comes your immediate response. “You’re the only thing making my day worthwhile.”

“Awe, I love you.”

Her response makes you giggle. “I love you, too.”

But after flipping through a few pages, another thought comes to mind. “Well, I guess you’re not the only bright side today. I did meet someone.”

“Ooh, who?!”

“Don’t get too excited, it was a new professor.” You laugh, shaking your head at her.

“Oh, which one?”

“Professor Martell. I didn’t even mean to see him today, honestly. Just went to the wrong building by mistake.”

“Aaaaand you consider him a bright side to your day?”

Your eyes widen slightly, a creep of heat crawling up your neck and to your ears. Did you say that?

“I guess,” Shrugging, you try to be nonchalant. “Do you… do you know anything about him?” Cori has been at this school longer than you. She could’ve had him as a professor before.

“Yeah, actually.” She responds after a moment. “I had him for chemistry last year.”

“Oh really? What’s he like?”

“Why do you want to know?” She teases with a smirk.

You shrug, trying to hide your own. “I dunno, my teacher isn’t really that helpful. Maybe he could be.”

“Mhm,” Cori responds, sounding unconvinced. But she tells you anyway. “Honestly, all my friends in that class thought he was hot as hell. I did too, he looks so good for his age.”

“How old is he?”

“Not sure, maybe mid-forties?”

Damn, you think. He does look good for his age.

“Everyone can tell he thinks he’s hot shit.”

No wonder, comes your next thought, he looks like he is.

“He was a pretty good teacher, though. But some of his students couldn’t get around the fact that he was a hottie with a body.”

“You’re so annoying.” You roll your eyes, laughing. She laughs, too.

“I heard one of them even tried getting with him!”

“Really?”

“Yeah!”

“How’d that go?” You joke, although you’re interested to hear her response.

“They got turned down. He’s never flirted with any of the students on campus.”

Now this makes you think. It could just be wishful thinking, but it seemed like he could have been flirting with you. Maybe he was just being overly friendly? His smile didn’t seem too platonic.

This conversation makes you think back to the map he’d given you, now moving to pick it up from where you placed it on the table. You look it over, nothing out of place or different. But upon turning it over, you find his office phone number and school email written on it. Your eyebrows rise ever so slightly, pondering this new information. Does that mean something?

“What’s that?”

“A map of campus. He gave it to me, since I got lost.”

“Oh, that was nice of him.”

“Yeah…”

Cori narrows her eyes. “What?”

“He… put his phone number on it. Well, not like his phone number, but the one to his office, I think. And his school email.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Is that weird?”

“Well I mean, you’re not one of his students. So, I dunno.”

After a moment of silence, she grins. “Maybe he wants to see you again.”

“Or maybe he just wants to help out a new student on campus.”

“I’d let him help me out.”

“Shut up.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that if you turn him down, let him know I’m available.”

“Cori,”

“With open arms, and open legs.”

“CORI!”

You absolutely bust out laughing at her comment. You’ve known Cori for more than a year now, and you swear she’s your soul sister. Every time you talk, it puts a smile on your face. You’re beyond thankful to have her in your life. And more often than not, she makes a few good points. Maybe he does want to see you again.

“Oh my god, I don’t get this.”

Shoving your face into your hands, you release an exasperated huff. This is the hardest class you’ve taken so far, and absolutely nothing makes sense. And to make matters worse, your teacher has stopped giving you second chances. This is the only class you’re failing, and it couldn't be more frustrating to you.

“You could go back to him, you know…” Cori reminds you, watching you struggle with your homework over FaceTime.

“I don’t even know if he’d be able to help me.”

“Attractiveness aside, he was a really good teacher.”

“I don’t want to bother him.” You mumble, tears of frustration daring to roll down your cheeks. Plus, the last thing you need is to feel dumb in front of him again.

“Babe,” She says, sighing while she gives you a sympathetic expression. “He told you to come back if you needed help with anything, right?”

“Yeah.” You nod, sniffling while sliding your sleeves across your eyes.

“Then go to him. Your stupid teacher obviously won’t help.”

Maybe she has a point. His office is less than five minutes away, too. If you clean yourself up and pack your things into your bookbag, you can make it there by five. Hopefully he’ll still be there.

“Okay, I’ll call you back later.”

“I can’t hun, I have work.”

“Oh,” You frown, your sadness only growing. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry,” She offers you a pout. “But I’ll text you tonight, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” With that, you hang up, looking forward to your friend’s text. Without many other companions and with your family living out of state, you relied on her heavily for comfort and company. One of the few downfalls of living alone was your lack of company. You’re an introvert, but you still liked to socialize occasionally. In truth, you often get lonely. But hopefully, you’ll be able to spend time with that professor tonight. Maybe you can make a friend out of him.

You put way too much thought into your outfit, but you eventually settle for a comfortable sweater and some jeans. Tying your hair up, you slide on a pair of ankle-high boots, and pack your things. Before leaving you sling your backpack onto your shoulders, taking in a breath before heading out into the elements. Honestly, this might as well be hiking for you. But within a handful of minutes, you’re surrounded by the heat once again.

“Professor Martell?” Comes your timid call, appearing in front of his door.

The entryway is clear, the door propped open with a small stopper. And when you say his name, he looks up, those reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. With a smile on his lips he says your name, setting down the paper in his hand and rising. It’s been more than a week since he’s last seen you.

“It’s nice to see you again.”

Upon further evaluation, he acknowledges your somber state. Your shoulders are slouching and you look tired, eyes slightly red and puffy as if you’d just been crying. The center of his brows fold up just barely at this. What’s happened to you tonight?

“It’s nice to see you, too.” Nodding, you step in, walking over to him. “I was um, wondering if you could help me? With studying?”

“Of course,” He nods, furrowing his brows slightly. Gesturing to the seat beside you, he sits down in his own. “Please.”

You do as he says, taking a seat in the chair and setting your bag down on the ground. He rearranges his desk, making room in the center. He then clasps his hands together, placing them on the edge.

“Have your grades not been doing well?” He inquires, taking off his glasses and folding them, hooking them on the center of his shirt.

He’s just as handsome as when you first saw him, and just as nicely dressed, too. Slightly, he tilts his head at you, that same concerned furrow creased on his brow.

“Not really,” You mutter, looking down at your hands.

“Okay,” Nodding, he thinks about what he can do. “Did you bring your textbooks?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Okay, take it out, and bring your chair over here.”

You’re surprised by his invitation, but you move without a second thought. Dragging the chair to the tiny space beside him, you reach for your bag, unzipping it to take out your book.

“Okay, let’s see.” Professor Martell then says, bringing his glasses back up to his nose. “What chapter are you studying? And what professor do you have, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Um, chapter five, I think. And I have professor McIntosh.”

He doesn’t say anything, he just nods. Reaching over, he folds open your book. You expected him to take it into his own hands, but no, he flips through the pages while it rests on your lap.

“Do you have a highlighter with you?” He inquires, looking up at you from his glasses.

“Yeah, I have a few.” Reaching back down you grab a blue one, bringing it up with you.

“Good,” Professor Martell nods. “I can show you the sections that you should pay the most amount of attention to.”

“That’d be great! Thank you!”

“Of course, darling.” He says to you, his voice quiet and smooth.

The space you’re in is small, but you find yourself liking the closeness. It’s comfortable to you, and it’s comfortable to him, too. You’re nearly shoulder to shoulder and at this proximity, you can smell the cologne he uses. The aroma of fresh sandalwood surrounds you, the tones earthy, smokey and rich. It’s calming to you, and you inhale the scent of him happily, deeply.

“You’ll want to highlight this section,” Pulling you back to reality, you look down.

He’s pointing to the book, his finger applying the slightest amount of pressure. It’s just enough for the spine to dig into your lap, just barely brushing the space between your legs.

“O-Okay,” Stumbling a bit, you swallow, doing as he says.

“This one as well, love.”

He’s pointing out the sections you should study, but for some reason, you can’t focus for shit. Every time he reaches out he brushes your arm slightly, that watch glimmering in the light of his warmly toned desk lamp. His office is decorated quite nicely, his desk, the side tables and shelves all made of dark wood. Each surface is either lined with books or decorated with some type of stone statue. There’s a plant off in the far corner near the door. There’s an antique clock on the wall and a picture of the city of Madrid on another. Professor Martell’s office exudes quite a sophisticated atmosphere, one you find both impressive and welcoming.

The sound of your name drags you back to where you are and what you’re doing. “Is something distracting you?”

“N-No, I’m sorry.”

“As a professor, I’m here to help with your studies. But I’m also here to lend an ear, too. It’s important that our students are doing well outside of their classes, too.”

His words make you feel comforted and safe, cared for, even though he barely knows you. But you did want to make a friend of him. Maybe he wants to be your friend, too.

“I, it’s just,” He lets you process, waiting for you to continue. “I’m new to this school and I’m struggling. I just got used to finding the buildings and I’m already worried about having to find new ones next semester. This class is kicking my ass and while my other ones aren’t too bad, it’s just a lot of work, and it’s overwhelming. And I feel like… I feel like I have no one around me.”

“Why is that?” He asks, placing his elbow on the armrest of his chair and propping his chin on top of his fist.

“My family doesn’t live around here, and I haven’t really made any friends. I have one, Cori, but she’s usually busy. I know she loves me and we’re very close, but I miss her. Especially on nights when I get lonely.”

He offers you a soft yet concerned look, his heart breaking for you. He knows how you feel, though.

“I’m sorry for dumping all of this on you.”

“Don’t be,” He returns gently. “I’m the one who asked you.”

You smile shyly, looking down at your hands again.

“I’m sorry you’re lonely, lovely.” He coos to you, and the nickname makes you flush. “Please know, you’re welcome anytime.

“That’s nice of you to say.”

“I mean it,” He lifts his head from his chin, that same hand falling to your forearm. “Being by yourself in a new place can be frightening.”

It’s true, and it feels nice to have him sympathize with you. Slowly, his thumb rubs the skin of your forearm, watching as you release a tired breath.

“Can I get you anything? Water or juice?”

“Oh no, that’s okay.” You shake your head, now looking over at him. “But that’s so kind of you.”

Professor Martell tilts his head, a troubled look still coloring his face. He has such a caring nature about him.

“Would you like to study any more tonight? You’re more than welcome to talk with me more, if you’d like to.”

“No,” You shake your head, looking down at your phone. You’ve been here for about an hour, and you should probably be getting home. “I shouldn’t stay too much longer. It’ll be dark soon.”

By now, the sun has begun to set, and it worries you. But there’s a soft, orange glow that’s reaching every corner of the room, and it does well to calm you.

“You’re right,” He sighs, glancing at the watch on his wrist. He still hasn’t taken his hand off of yours. “Would you let me walk you home?” He then asks, looking up at you.

His comment stirs emotion in your chest. “Wha - really?”

“Of course.” He nods, standing from his seat and prompting you to do so, too. Leaning down, he grabs his jacket from the back of his chair. “You’re quite the lovely thing,”

You’d moved around to the front of his desk, picking up your bookbag. When you hear this you stand up, a twinge of surprise vibrating through you.

“Too small to be walking alone at night.”

Everything he says makes your insides light up, the adrenaline in your body now rising. When you look over at him he’s shrugging on his coat, one with a mustard-y tone. And when he lifts his head to see you looking at him, he grins. “Is it okay that I walk you home, love?”

You feel breathless, nodding when you finally say, “Yes.”

While holding the building’s front door open for you, he asks, “Did you see the phone number and email I left for you?”

Shivering from the gust of wind, you emit a quick breath. “Oh yeah, I did see that.”

“Good,” He smiles, walking alongside you. “If you ever need help with anything, you can email me. That number is to my office, you can also call me, if you’d like to.”

“That’s really nice of you.” Looking to the side, you smile, folding your arms up and shoving your hands into your armpits.

“Are you cold?”

“Eh,” You shake your head. “Only a little. Just need to remember to bring a coat.”

He thinks about offering you his coat, but ultimately decides not to. He doesn’t want to come off too forward with you. Professor Martell then inhales a deep breath beside you, sliding his hands into the pockets of his longer coat.

“Do you have any hobbies?” He inquires, following your lead on where to go. It has gotten quite dark out. “They might do you well. Distract your mind and help you learn something new. It could help you to feel happier, too.”

“I actually don’t. I guess I like caring for the plants I have at home, but that’s about it.” Thinking over his comment, you then ask, “Do you have any?”

“I do.” He nods, continuing to walk alongside you. Eyeing his surroundings, he admires the changing colors of the leaves. It’s one of his favorite things about this season.

“Pottery.” His voice is deep, enchanting to listen to. “It’s quite calming, once you get the hang of it.”

“Oh wow, I feel like that would be so hard to do.”

He gives you an acknowledging nod. “Perhaps. I train in martial arts, too.”

Now this really catches your attention. “Really?”

Seeing your shocked reaction, he laughs. “Yes, it’s quite a rewarding pastime.”

“How so?”

“It feels good on the body.”

Oh god, why did he have to say it like that? This would explain why he’s so fit, too, and why he looks so good for his age. Body aside, he was also exceptionally handsome. His brown eyes show genuine emotion every time they look at you, his lips appearing plush and flirtatious when they curl, his dimple quite charming when he smiles enough to show it.

“This is where you live?” Come his next few words, noticing your pace slowing.

“Yeah,” You sigh, looking up at your apartments. “It’s not much, but it’ll do.”

“It’s safe,” He emphasizes, turning to face you. “This is a good neighborhood, that’s what’s important.” Again, he already cares so much for you.

With a smile you look up at him, and you suddenly realize how tall he is.

“I really appreciate you walking me home.” Taking a leap, you decide to be honest with him. “Sometimes it really scares me.”

“And I don’t blame you.” His response is easy, reassuring. “It was nice to see you again, dear.”

“It was really nice to see you, too. Thank you… for listening to me.”

“Anytime.” He grins, eyes briefly looking you up and down. You’re shivering. “There’s a cafe on the ground floor of the Browning Building, if you’re ever cold and need a coffee.”

“Oh really? Sweet, thanks for letting me know!”

“Of course,” Glancing down at his watch, he clicks his tongue. “I hope you have a good night, love.”

“Thank you, you too.”

With one last smile, you turn, walking up the stairs of your building. They’re on the outside, leading directly to the apartments’ front doors. And he watches as you go up, waving when you get to your door and turn around to see him. Lifting a hand, you wave back before unlocking your door, and going in.

You think about going over the highlighted sections he showed you tonight, but ultimately decide to give yourself a break for the night. You studied, you cried, and then you studied again; you’re exhausted.

The next two hours are consumed with a ramen noodle dinner and a true crime documentary. You’d turned your heat up again, slipping into some cozy pajamas and laying out on your couch. Try as you might, your not so pleasant emotions start to return again. And after the documentary ends, you’re reaching for your phone to text Cori again. You’d texted her once you got home, letting her know that you were safely back inside your apartment for the night. She hasn’t responded and you didn’t expect her to. She’s working the night shift and busy as hell, and while you’re more than understanding of this, it doesn’t stop you from missing her.

Sighing, you put your phone down. You should stop bothering her. Cuddling back into the blankets on the couch, you feel tears begin to pool in your eyes. Why do you feel so lonely tonight? Lonely… I’m sorry you’re lonely, lovely. Maybe he could comfort you. No, that would be too inappropriate to do. He’s probably not even at the office, anyways. But maybe you could get his voicemail; his voice is so nice to listen to.

“This is so stupid, this is so dumb.” You mutter to yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose while the dial rings on the phone.

A minute or so before calling, you decided that if he does pick up, you should have something prepared to say. You don’t want to sound like a mumbling fool on the other end of the line, so you thought up some random chemistry question to ask him. Like anything school related would be pertinent enough for you to call him at this time of night.

“Hello?”

You’re stunned he actually answered the phone. A jolt zaps its way through you, your eyes widening in your dimly lit living room.

“Um, h-hi… Professor Martell. It’s um, it’s me.” He says your name questioningly. “Yeah,” You smile, liking how it sounds when he says it.

“Hi,” He then says on the end of the other line, and you swear you can hear his smile. “How are you?” You’re surprised he doesn’t ask why you’re calling.

“I’m uh, I don’t know.”

“Why are you up so late, dear?” He sounds kind and concerned. It makes the dam holding back your emotions break.

“I guess I just feel lonely again.”

“Oh, love.” He tuts on the other end, frowning to himself. “I’m here for you, sweetheart.” At this, your insides practically light up. He’s never called you that before. “Is there anything that caused it?”

“My best friend is working and I didn’t want to bother her. I tried to distract myself, like you said. But I don’t know, it didn’t work for that long.”

“Well, I’m glad you called me.”

“Really?”

“Yes, sweetling.”

What a cute nickname, and one you’ve never heard of before. It makes you feel small, cute.

“I like talking to you.” This comes as a surprise to you.

“I like talking to you, too. You’re so nice.” You’re smiling to yourself, your cheeks tingling from the bashful emotion shivering through your limbs.

“I try to be.” He sounds tired.

“Why’re you at your office so late?”

“Oh,” He sighs, eyes falling to his desk. “I’m grading papers tonight. I don’t like to bring my work home.”

“Oh, I’m sorry it takes so long. That must be exhausting.”

“Well,” He says, giving your comment a nod and a sigh. “At least I’m getting a pleasurable break.” Obviously, he’s talking about you. “You’re a sweet girl.”

Oh lord, why does he say these things? You can’t help the release of your dreamy sigh, and it makes him smirk on the other end of the line. He feels like he’s getting to you.

“I want you to get some rest tonight. Hopefully you’ll feel better in the morning. Maybe plan something interesting for your day tomorrow, something for you to look forward to.”

“Something interesting…” You repeat, thinking. “Could I… could I have lunch with you?”

Professor Martell smiles, his heart beating profoundly inside his ribs. “Of course you can.”

As if your smile could get any wider. This was definitely something to look forward to.

“Great! I can bring some food from the cafe you told me about.”

“That sounds lovely.” He agrees, resting back in his chair while he talks to you. “Do you think you’ll sleep?”

Nibbling on the corner of your lip, you nod. “I think so.”

“Good.” He returns, “I’ll try to have these papers graded before having lunch with you.”

“Okay,” Giddy with joy, you add on, “Thank you, professor Martell.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” It was clear how much you liked that. “Now, get some rest.”

“Okay, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, oh and…” He says your name questioningly, making you perk up a bit. “Yes?”

“My name is Oberyn,” This is new information to you, and you’re not sure why you haven’t looked into this before. “I’d like you to call me that, if it makes you comfortable.”

“Okay,” When did your pulse become so quick? “Goodnight, Oberyn.”

“Goodnight, sweetling.”

You have to hand it to him, this was a good idea. Having something to look forward to in your day really made the hours go by quick. You had three classes today and by the time noon rolled around, two of them were already done.

Cori had messaged you this morning, feeling bad for not having returned your messages before then. You reassured her of your understanding, but she still felt the need to apologize. You’re lucky to have her as a friend; you’re surprised she even made time to message you before going to bed this morning.

“Hm…”

Scanning the sections available in the small cafe, you ponder what to get him. You have absolutely no idea what he likes when it comes to food, so you’ll just have to guess.

Since speaking with you last night, Oberyn has felt the tiniest ounce of shame. And even though it’s small, it weighs heavy in his belly. It’s inappropriate to call you those things, he knows this. He knows he shouldn’t have. But something came over him when he met you, the need to care for and protect you. It’s not that you look weak, you look sweet. You’re kind and beautiful, he knew that the second you walk into his space. Oberyn loves the way your eyes light up when he talks to you, the way your lips move when you speak, the way you look when you’re being emotionally vulnerable with him. He likes seeing the true side of you. But then another thought crosses his mind; how old are you?

“Hey,” You smile, walking into his office once more. You don’t even knock this time, rounding the dear with eagerness and ease.

Instantly, he perks up, standing when you walk through the threshold. You’re holding two plastic containers, two bags of chips, and two bottles of water; it makes him chuckle.

“Let me help.” He quickly steps forward, rounding the corner of his desk.

Reaching out, he takes the items from you, setting each one on his desk. For some reason, as soon as he’s done doing this, he turns around to hug you. It feels like meeting up with a friend, someone that comforts him. Though you’re slightly surprised, you happily accept, wrapping your arms around his neck. He leans down, sliding his own around your back. Oberyn turns his head, his nose lightly brushing you hair.

This hug brings you your first real feel of Oberyn’s body, and he’s truly as fit as he looks. You can feel the muscles in his chest and stomach, even in his arms, too. When your hands slide up to his neck, arms wrapping around him, you can also touch the muscles adorning his shoulders and upper back. He holds you in a warm embrace, snug but not tight. And the two of you shouldn’t enjoy it as much as you do.

“How are you, dear?”

“I’m doing good.” When you part, you’re smiling, and it warms his heart. “You were right, having something to look forward to really brightens your day.”

“I’m glad I can help you with that.” He winks, watching your lips part from the small movement. Turning toward his desk, Oberyn then says, “And thank you for picking up lunch.”

“Oh, no problem. I’m sorry though, I didn’t know what you liked. So, I just guessed.”

Sitting down in the seat behind his desk, he smiles. “I like what you like.”

Without him even offering, you slide your chair behind his desk, sitting right next to him. And he’s elated to see this, to know how comfortable you are with him.

“I looked into your professor’s curriculum.” He tells you, watching as you hand him his things. “Thank you, love.”

“Sure,” You grin, opening your own items.

“And I found a documentary that could be quite helpful to you.”

“Oh, really? Where could I watch it?”

“The full-length film is available on YouTube.” Cracking open his water, he takes a sip, and you can’t help but watch. You try to do so nonchalantly, eyeing his Adam’s apple as it bobs.

“How um,” Blink, goddammit. “How long is it?”

“About an hour and a half.” Oberyn responds, “I can send you the link if you’d like. Or if you’d rather,” He continues on, mixing his toppings into his salad. “I have the film opened on a tab on my desktop.”

“Oh, really?”

“We can watch it, if you’d like. I can even help you take notes.” His smile is warm as he looks to the side, poking his fork into a piece of lettuce before he takes a bite.

Your last class of the day is in forty-five minutes, there’s no way you’d be able to finish the film if you watched it with him right now. Maybe you could watch some now and finish it later? Or… you could just skip your last class. You’re doing well in it, anyway. One day won’t hurt.

“That’d be great!”

The wide grin you give him makes his heart soar, his adoration for you growing evermore. And while he returns your expression, happy to know he’ll get to spend more than an hour with you, he can’t help but take in your form. The outfit you’re wearing outlines your chest quite nicely, a tighter turtleneck adorning your upper half. You’re wearing loose jeans that are held up by a brown belt, along with a pair of brown suede boots. When you look away, he takes a glance at the curves he can now see on you. Internally, he scolds himself for doing such a thing. He shouldn’t feel this way, but it’s almost as if he can’t help himself. His arousal burns bright for you.

Gaining his bearings, he takes another drink of water to lube his suddenly dry throat. Once he sets the bottle down, he reaches forward, clicking his mouse and pulling up the film.While he does so, you get comfy, snuggling back in your seat and bringing your salad into your lap. You even fold your legs, sitting criss-cross and watching as he moves his computer screen to the center of his desk.

“This covers the entirety of the acids and bases you’ve been studying.” Oberyn informs you, leaning back in his seat once pressing play. “Would you mind getting the lights and closing the door? Just so we can see the screen a bit better.”

“Sure,” Leaning forward to set your food down, you then stand, rounding his desk and walking over to the far wall.

Oberyn watches you move as you complete this task, smirking to himself at the gentle sway in your hips. You have such a pretty physique, he’d love to feel it, to wrap his hands around your waist and squeeze gently.

“Oberyn?”

“Hm?” He startles, eyes shooting up to look at you.

“Are you alright?” You’re laughing as you return to his side, eyeing him suspiciously.

“I’m just fine.”

Something about this man is dreamy beyond belief. Even after the room has become dark and the film has begun, you continue to steal glances at him. His skin is tawny and smooth, his nose arched in an intriguingly attractive way. His facial hair is trimmed and style to perfection, and you’re now noticing the slightest of grays in his nearly-black hair.

Oberyn claimed that this film was supposed to help with your studies, but you don’t grab a single notebook or pencil, and he doesn’t tell you to. All the two of you do is eat in the quiet calm that surrounds you, the day early but the atmosphere in your small bubble replicating that of a time later in the day. It’s warm and cozy, and before long, you find yourself yawning.

“Pay attention, sweetling.” He tells you with a small smile on his face.

“Okay,” You say through a yawn, having finished your food by now.

After a small stretch, you cozy up in your chair, leaning to the side and allinw your head to rest on his shoulder. It’s a bold move, something you honestly shouldn’t be doing. But he lets you. He finds it quite endearing, actually.

“Maybe we should take a break.”

“What, why?” Lifting your head, you allow him to lean forward to pause it.

“You’re tired,” He points out, looking at you. And when your expression grows guilty he shakes his head. “I don’t blame you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” His smile is enchanting. “I’m glad that you’re comfortable here with me.”

Those beautiful brown eyes stare into your soul, a loving warmth radiating through your being. Suddenly, you find yourself growing curious, wondering about his age and personality and, well… how has he not found someone yet? Double-checking, your eyes glance down, looking for a ring.

Oberyn notices, glancing down to the same area you’re looking. “Are you trying to see if I’m married?” While raising his eyebrows at you, he grins.

“Oh, no, I… well…”

“I’m not,” He says, filling in the gaps once you’ve grown quiet. “In case you were wondering.”

“Why… why not?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, how are you not married?”

Oberyn offers a thoughtful pout, shrugging. “I maintain a busy life.” Comes his first explanation. “I don’t often find interest in those around me.”

“You interest me.” You blurt out, not realizing the double meaning behind your words.

He smiles down at his hands, then looks over at you. “I know I do.”

Bashfully, you look away. Why the hell did you say that?

“Have you found any interests on campus, love?” Comes his next question, and he’s genuinely curious. But he asks you this in his mos nonchalant tone, doing his best to keep the air of the conversation light.

Shaking your head, you respond with a quiet, “No, I haven’t dated anyone for about two years now.” Feeling more than welcome to be open with him, you continue on. “Nobody seems that interesting and whenever anyone is, they turn out like the rest.”

“Like the rest?”

“Immature.” You state blandly. “It’s exhausting. At this point, I’m basically touch-starved.” Again, you don’t realize the double-meaning. You meant it in reference to the fondness of another person, of not receiving touch from them such as hugging or holding their hand. But clearly, it also translates sexually. And you suppose you’re touch-starved in the category, too. Before you can correct yourself, though, Oberyn is already speaking.

“Surely you can find someone around here willing to fix that for you.” You’re absolutely shocked he’s expanding on the topic. But he knew he wanted to keep the conversation here. As soon as you said you lacked touch, he found himself wanting to change that.

“Yeah?” You return with a dry laugh, pretending to be unphased. “You have anybody in mind?”

He hums out, amused. “I have someone in mind.”

Turning your head, you meet his eyes, gulping at the lustful gaze he holds. Oberyn’s gaze drops to your lips, just barely parting from each other. He licks his lower lip, grinning while he listens to you suck in a breath.

“Perhaps we should finish the film another day.” He offers, and maybe he’s right. Maybe you need a breather from this. This whole thing unprofessional and honestly, maybe it’s gone too far. You should… you should go.

“Oh,” You nod, releasing a nervous breath. “Okay.”

“I can walk you home again, if you’d like.” It’s not late, it’s not even 2pm yet. But he wants to.

“Okay.” Your nod this time is a bit happier, and it makes him satisfied inside. He feels like he’d do anything to see you smile.

“Where is your coat, sweetheart?” Oberyn asks while following you into the hall, turning to close his office door.

“Oh shoot,” Rolling your eyes, you groan. “I forgot to bring it again.”

Oberyn smiles, walking down the stairs with you.

“If you’d like,” He offers once you’re on the ground floor, already taking his coat off. “You can have mine.”

“What? Oh, no, I couldn’t -”

“Just for the walk,” He interrupts, moving behind you. “I hate to see you cold.”

At that, you can’t think of anything to respond with. Your insides are warmed by Oberyn’s kind words, feeling him slip his coat over your shoulders and hold it there while you slide your arms into the sleeves.

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you.” It comes out before he can stop it, and while he’s not sure if he should have said it, he knows he meant it.

Your walk, as always, is short. And while you never liked walks, you find yourself wishing this one was longer. The surrounding scenery is breathtaking, the changing leaves a wonderful mix of warm tones and crunchy sounds when you step on the occasional fallen one. The lake on campus has frozen over completely by now, and you pass by it every time Oberyn walks you home. But you know these reasons aren’t due to the happiness you feel on your stroll.

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you, your arms just barely brushing as you continue on. Oberyn’s coat surrounds you with his smell, those rich and earthy tones. They’re a bit sweet, too, and you honestly hope his scent lingers when you give it back to him.

“What will you do today?” Oberyn asks, turning his head to the side so he can look at you. He watches as your eyes scan the ground, feet crunching over the leaves.

“I have to work later. I might just study until then.”

“Pick up a hobby, sweet thing.” He reminds you, stopping once you’ve reached the stairs to your apartment. This time, he’s much closer to your door. “It will do you good.”

“I will,” Turning, you look up at him. “Maybe pottery.” It’s a flirty comment, and he can see this quite plainly. But you’re not nervous about his response, you know he shares a liking for you.

“I’ll make sure you are never lonely.” He jokes with a kind laugh, but he means every word.

“Well,” His previous sentence continues to repeat in your head, making you smile brightly. “Thank you for walking me home again, Oberyn.” It’s the first time you’ve used his first name, and it sends a gentle shock through his system.

“Of course.” He watches as you begin to shrug off his coat, and he has half a mind to tell you to keep it.

“And thank you for letting me borrow your coat. You weren’t cold?”

“Not at all.” It’s a white lie, one that doesn’t matter. It’s only purpose is to reassure you.

Taking it from your hands, he flops it over his forearm, now moving closer to you. Naturally, you reach out for him, embracing his tender hug and for the first time truly wishing it was more. He holds you like this for a moment, one hand gently rubbing your back. You rest your head in the crook of his neck, brushing your nose over his warm skin.

“It’s always so nice to see you.” Oberyn murmurs to you, one hand rising to the back of your head. When you lean back to return his affectionate words, you feel his hand move, now sliding around to cup your cheek. Before you move too far away, Oberyn tilts his head, bringing his lips down to brush them against your skin.

Your jaw drops, and you swear your heart stops entirely. But to keep the moment smooth, you recover quickly. His soft lips press against you for just a moment, his hand not moving when he leans further back. Looking down into your eyes, Oberyn heartbeat skips at the expression on your heavenly face. Your lashes flutter gently, feeling his thumb swipe once over the apple of your cheek.

The moment feels intimate, and it’s as if something comes over you. He looks incredible in this light, and the feelings he’s brought to you seem to resurface all at once.

You’re shocked when you see him lean in, but your body responds before your mind. Softly, gently, hesitantly, your lips meet, a subtle hum coming from both of you. And when you press yourself into him, he knows to continue. The hand he had on your cheek moves to cup your jaw, his other hand sliding just an inch or so down to the small of your back. You had your hands around his neck but now bring them down, each one holding either side of his face.

Inside, you’re bursting, fizzling with adrenaline and the euphoria of finally kissing him. You can’t believe he did this, and he can’t believe you’re reciprocating. One kiss turns into two, and then three, Oberyn’s movements becoming more and more sure.

He can’t help himself, can’t bring himself to stop. Timidly, his hand slides further down, hooking around your hip bone and falling to your outer thigh. Slowly, he keeps moving - he’ll explore as much as you’ll let him. And let him you do, moaning quietly when that broad palm finally falls to your backside.

It’s beyond pleasurable, the feeling of his lips moving against you, his head dipping and turning as he molds himself to you. An enticed purr emanates from his throat when he feels the pad of your fingertips brush against his scruff, the trim facial hair lining his jaw. He presses your body against his, that large hand keeping you close while he gently palms your backside. It sends shiver after shiver through each one of your limbs, feeling him touch you like this.

“Oberyn,” You whisper quietly, darkness now consuming the two of you.

“Yes?” He returns, his voice hovering in that same tone.

Smiling, you lean up again, giving him another kiss.

“I, I…” You’re not sure what to say, the emotions rolling through your body almost too much for your brain. And Oberyn sees this, he sees your pleasurable struggle and he smiles, deciding to end this short yet passionate event.

He tilts his head upwards just a bit, pressing a kiss to your hairline. “Get some rest, sweetheart.” His voice is soft as he speaks. “Promise me?”

Swallowing, your eyes close as you feel his loving kiss, sighing out a heavenly breath beneath him.

“Okay,” Comes your whispered response. “I promise.”

“How have you been?”

“I’ve actually been pretty good lately!”

“That’s so nice to hear, babe. I’ve been so worried about you.” Cori’s words are genuine, and so is the expression on her face. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to talk much these past couple weeks. The hospital has been pretty busy.”

“It’s okay, I totally understand. I promise.”

She grins, happy to hear your response and to know that you’re doing okay. “What’s been keeping you so happy lately?”

You shrug, looking down at the bowl of cereal you made. A late night snack, if you will. “I don’t know, my grades are doing okay.” You begin to explain, smiling when a certain someone pops into your head.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Oberyn’s been helping me.”

“Oberyn?”

“Oh, Professor Martell.” She raises an eyebrow at you, and you shrug. “He told me to call him Oberyn. He’s been super nice to me.”

“Oh,”

“Yeah, he’s been really helpful. We’ve been studying.”

“Studying? How much?”

“I go to his office a few times a week. It’s nice being around him, he’s easy to talk to.”

“Well… that’s nice.” She decides on, still curious about the interactions between the two of you.

“Yeah, sometimes we have lunch together.” Cori glances up at you, raising a brow. “He’s even walked me home when it gets dark out, too.” Looking up, you now see the slightly concerned expression on her face. “What?”

“Are you comfortable with that?”

“With what? Him walking me home?” She nods. “Yeah, I think it’s sweet.” When she doesn’t respond, you continue on, stuck in your own wonderful world. “He’s pretty handsome, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Cori laughs, “Looks like you’ve fallen under a spell.”

“Oh shut up,” You roll your eyes playfully, although her tone makes your tummy turn. “It’s nice to have a friend. Even if he is twenty years older than me.”

“Well, I’m glad he can keep you company.”

“Is it… is it weird?” You suddenly find yourself feeling insecure about the situation.

“I mean, maybe? You’re not his student, but hey, if he’s helping you with your schoolwork and he’s a nice person to talk to, why not?”

“Okay,” You respond hesitantly, nodding slowly.

Your conversation with Cori makes you think, even after you hang up. You didn’t mention him letting you borrow his coat, or the fact that he’d kissed you on the cheek… and done a little more. Cori would definitely have found that weird. She also wouldn’t have liked the fact that after you kissed, you gave him your phone number, too. It feels wrong, hiding something from her, but you’re not exactly hiding it… right? Oh, like hell you are. You’re not telling your best friend about the first man you’ve found interesting in nearly two years. That counts as hiding something.

Glancing over at the coffee table, you eye your phone. All this uncertainty has you wanting to call him. But you shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t. And less than five minutes away, Oberyn is thinking the exact same thing. You gave him your phone number after you kissed, after he touched you, and he’s wracking his brain thinking of any excuse to message you. Lately, he can’t even focus on grading, he just thinks about you. About how kind you are and how funny you can be, how pretty your smile is and how you smell so wonderfully. Your outfits are incredibly cute and you always look cozy, and you’re thoughtful, you’re so thoughtful. She’s so sweet to me.

There’s no hardcore evidence of your relationship crossing any professional boundaries. There’s no evidence of your relationship at all, actually, aside from that single call to his office. But if a colleague of his found out about what he was doing, he’s sure they’d raise an eyebrow at him. The names he calls you? The time he’s spent with you? The hours of night at which he’s talked to you? Walking you home and now kissing you on the cheek? Let’s be honest, he did more than a simple kiss on the cheek. Okay, maybe your relationship has crossed over the line of what’s considered to be ‘professional boundaries’.

Sadly, as time passes by, those lonely feelings that have temporarily gone away are becoming harder and harder to ignore. Cori told you she wouldn’t be able to talk for a few days due to her picking up some extra shifts for her sick friends, and after your call the other night, you don’t think you should go to Oberyn. Slowly but surely shame has set up camp in your belly and is sitting there steadfastly. Should you have let things go this far with him? Clearly he has feelings for you… that’s clear, right?

It breaks Oberyn’s heart, not hearing from you. It’s been almost a week since he kissed you; did he cross a line with you? So far, all of your interactions have been because of you; you stopping by, you calling his office. He has your cell phone number, maybe he should text you. But he’s not sure, he doesn’t want to push you if he’s made you uncomfortable. It didn’t seem like he did, but this radio silence has him second guessing himself. But he has no other way to contact you. He knows where you live but what is he supposed to do? Just show up at your door? This leaves him nowhere but to sit in his office chair and wait for you, that is, if he decides not to text you. And when he’s teaching his lectures, his mind isn’t anywhere better.

What if she stops in while I’m gone?

What if she calls my office? Will she leave a voicemail? Oberyn sighs dreamily. I’d love to hear her voice.

Will she email me? He thinks back to the night you gave him your number. Again, he sighs.

She felt so good in my arms. I’d love to hold her again, feel her lips on mine…

I hope she’s doing alright.

Oberyn’s caring nature wasn’t just some kind of front, it’s who he really is. He didn’t often find others interesting, but those he did, he liked to befriend. And with these friendships came his more empathetic side, wondering about their lives and how they were doing. And if he has a partner, how their mental health is and whether or not they’re flourishing. He doesn’t have one, but he does have you. Could you become that to him?

A week is enough. He needs to talk to you.

You’re in the middle of class when you receive his text, deciding to open it up on your macbook. At first, you assume the random number is from an online store, maybe a reminder for a doctor’s appointment or something. But it’s not.

Immediately, you felt incredible remorse for ignoring him. He didn’t make you uncomfortable, not in the least. Since meeting him, Oberyn has done nothing but make you feel amazing. You had no choice but to respond to him.

She misses me.

Your response has made his entire day, his entire week. The fact that you not only messaged him back and said these things, but you also called him Oberyn, it’s made his heart leap. So he didn’t cross a line with you, after all. He decides that the next time you stop by, he’ll buy you lunch or dinner, depending on the time of day. Only because you bought him lunch the other week, that’s the only reason why.

Try as you might, you can’t hide the incredible smile growing on your face. Even though you’ve been giving the situation space, you’re thrilled he decided to reach out to you. He really does care about you.

As soon as you’re done with class, you head home to change into your work clothes. You find yourself pretty lucky to be able to work at a job that allows you to dress comfy, especially when going into work so late. The bookstore lets you wear yogas and quarter-zips if you liked, and that’s what you wore almost every time you were there. Thinking about where you’ll be when your shift is done, you tie back your hair, twisting it into a braid. Oberyn seemed to like it when he saw it on you before.

To no surprise of your own, your shift drags on agonizingly slow. Knowing that you’ll see Oberyn afterwards is making you impatient as all hell. You wonder, will he kiss you again? Touch you again? Christ, it felt so good the first time he did it. Would he do more? Would you let him?

While organizing the stack of books you’d been given, you come across a few pieces of poetry. Some from Grecian and Roman times, some from the Shakespearen era, too. And one from Shakespear himself catches your eye. Taking the book and flipping through its pages, you stop at a section titled, “Sonnet 45”.

The other two, slight air and purging fire

Are both with thee, wherever I abide;

The first my thought, the other my desire

The present-absent with swift motion slide…

These two elements, air and fire. They portray rational thought and desire. How could this sonnet have called out to you? How could it have felt your passion for this man? Your longing to be near him, with him, on him. You need him.

You don’t often lie to your job, especially when it comes to missing work, but you’re making an exception. After reading that poem, something snapped inside of you. You need to go see him, you know he’s waiting for you. And after making up some excuse about a cough accumulating within you, you’re gone, striding out the front doors and making your way across campus and to his door.

It’s a twenty minute walk but you don’t care, you smile the entire way. All you’re thinking about is how happy you’ll be to see him, how good it will feel to have him hug you, to feel his body pressed against yours again. You want to kiss him, to feel his hand on your face and his fingers exploring you.

He can hear you coming, your footsteps echoing down the empty hall. When he looks up to see you, an expression of awe paints his handsome face. Why does he feel like it’s been so long since he’s last seen you? It was only a week.

“Hi,” Stepping inside, you smile, falling for him all over again.

Today he’s wearing a velvety corduroy button-up, the burnt-orange color matching his personality. You aren’t sure how to explain it. It just makes him… pop. He looks stunning. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, allowing you to see the muscles in his forearms. And admittedly, you find it wildly attractive. He’s wearing his watch on his wrist and his thin gold chain around his neck, pieces you’ve never seen him without. Due to the top two buttons being undone, you can see more of his chest than you ever have before, even more so when he takes off his reading glasses to fold them over the front slit.

He breathes your name, the word floating joyously from his mouth. Standing, he steps to the side of his desk, walking up to you with open arms. As always, you gladly accept his hug, wrapping your arms around his neck when he pulls you in. And when you’re fully in his arms, you feel him sigh. You can hear the emotion in his heavy breath, and it makes you sad.

Keeping your voice low, you whisper, “I missed you.”

Like before, his hand rises to the back of your head, applying light pressure and brushing over your hair in quite a passionate manner. He loves this, feeling you against him, having your gorgeous frame in his embrace again.

Emotion overcomes him as he rubs your back, nodding gently before returning your affections. “I missed you too, sweet thing.”

He notices when you squeeze him tighter, and he grins, pulling back to kiss the side of your head. “I like you being here with me.” He mumbles against you, closing his eyes when he says, “Your responses made my entire day.”

“I’m so sorry I haven’t talked to you.” Leaning back, you look up at him. “I just, I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t -”

Oberyn ends your rambling with a searing kiss, unwilling to let you stutter out your anxieties any more. He wants you to feel at peace when you’re with him.

He holds your face in both of his hands, your own hands moving to grab his forearms. You absolutely melt into him, letting his mouth move against you. For the first time, his lips part, his tongue sliding out. He drags it across your lower lip, hearing your soft moan when you ultimately open your mouth more for him. Oberyn’s free hand travels to your waist, holding and squeezing you gently while he kisses you, the warm muscle of his tongue now meeting your own.

“You sweet, little thing.” He murmurs, his lips continuously returning to you.

Your heart is racing, your body feeling light as he holds you, touches you. Just like before his free hand slides further down, grabbing your backside and fondling it with his digits. He takes the breath from your lungs with the way he’s moving against you, and it’s in this moment that you make your decision. You want him, you need to have him.

“Oberyn,” You briefly pull away, holding his pretty face. “I’m tired.”

It’s nearly 10pm, and what you’re saying is true. It might also be your way of taking him home with you.

“Oh,” He breathes out, swallowing before he nods, ultimately backing away from you, “Okay.”

But you smile timidly, reaching out for his hands. “Will you walk me home?”

Nodding, he agrees. “Of course, sweet thing.”

You want to reassure him of your interest, so you step forward, closing the small gap he’d created between the two of you.

“Can I borrow your coat again?” You ask him sweetly, smiling up at him. He watches as you tilt your head to the side, letting go of his hands to run your palms up his chest. “I like wearing it; smells like you.”

“You do?” He returns, that gorgeous grin appearing once again.

“Mhm,” Comes your soft nod, eyeing that little dimple his smile is making. “You’re so cute.” It comes out before you realize it, but if you had the chance to go back and change it, you wouldn’t.

Oberyn sighs, reaching up to hold your chin with his forefinger and thumb. “You interest me greatly, little one.”

Before leaving, Oberyn turns to lock his office for the night. He intends to go home after spending some time with you, deciding to grade the rest of his papers in the morning.

As always, Oberyn lets you use his coat, but this time he doesn’t just walk beside you down the path. This time, he reaches out to hold your hand. It’s the first time he’s ever held it, and you let him, glancing down as his fingers wrap around you. Your heart squeezes with joy, moving to walk a little bit closer to him.

It’s quiet and calm, your late night stroll, and you can see the moon hanging in the sky above you. Your head tilts back as you stare, looking at the stars and any constellations that are visible to you. But Oberyn doesn’t look up, he just looks at you. Inside, he’s a bit sad. He wants to kiss you, wants to do so much more with you. But he has to accept that you may not be ready for that, you may not ever be ready for that. And if that’s the case, then that’s okay. He’s glad he was able to have those moments with you.

When you reach your stairs, you don’t let go of his hand, instead bringing him up to your door with you. He’s surprised by this, but follows you willingly. And for some reason, when you reach your door, you hesitate.

“Will you…” Starting to mutter, you turn around to face him. You don’t take his coat off, either. “Would you want to come inside?”

Oberyn considers this. Is he really going to let your relationship go there? It’s not a promise of anything more, not really. But even if it was, he’d say yes. He wants more of you; he craves it, feels desperate for it.

“You want me to?”

Alongside your nod, you grin. “Yes please.” He chuckles at your eager gesture and wording, agreeing to follow you into your home.

Continuing to hold his hand, you unlock your door and pull him inside. That baritone voice laughs from behind you at your excited motions, watching as you turn to shut and lock the door behind you.

“Oberyn,” You say as soon as he turns to face you. “I want you.”

And that’s all he needs. Raising his brows in brief shock, he immediately moves forward, watching you walk backward until your back is pressed against your front door. He’s on you in seconds, breathing out a forceful sigh through his nose as he returns his beautiful lips to your own. They’re so soft and smooth, talented, too. Instead of holding his cheeks, your hands slide around, rising to the back of his neck with your fingers digging into his hair.

“You want me?” He mumbles against you, kissing your cheek. “Tell me again.”

“I do,” Nodding, you gasp quietly when he nudges your head to the side with his nose, placing a flurry of fiery kisses along your throat. “I want you…”

Rolling his eyes back before closing them, Oberyn groans. Both of those broad palms fall to your hips, curling around once again to paw at your ass. One of them rises though, sliding along your side and stopping just below your bust. Ever so gently, Oberyn’s pelvis pushes forward, just barely applying pressure over yours.

“You’re a beautiful thing, sweetheart.” He murmurs to you, his kisses growing sloppy along your neck. And when your fingers curl, tugging on his dark hair, he groans. “Can I touch you?”

“Yes,” It’s a passionate moan, your eyes closing and mouth falling open when his hand lifts to cup your breast.

He does it as soon as he hears your response, squeezing you softly in his hand. “Everything about you…” He murmurs, teeth grazing over your throbbing pulse. “Is just so sweet and soft.”

“I feel like I can’t get enough of you.”

“You want more of me?”

“Yes, Oberyn. Please.”

Suddenly, Oberyn’s hands fall to your thighs, wrapping them beneath you and hauling you up to his waist. He urges you to wrap your legs around him, continuing to press your back against the door. To say the least, you’re incredibly surprised by his strength. Lifting his head, he smiles against your lips, kissing them and then your chin, your cheek and then your temple, too.

“Where can I take you?” Comes his breathless inquiry, gently brushing the tip of his nose over your own.

“My bedroom, baby.” Jesus, he thinks, moaning tenderly at the small, affectionate nickname. “Turn around, it’s down the hall.”

Hauling you off of the front door, you inhale a sharp breath, once again surprised by the strength he possesses. Easily, he turns his body, holding you against him while your arms wrap around his neck. You kiss him there while he strides down the hall, his smile deepening at the sweet press of your lips.

Your door is already open, so he enters freely. Due to the light of a small lamp on your desk, he’s able to see the entirety of your room. The color of the walls is a deep hue, a red tone that matches the sheets on your bed. The furniture in your room is made of dark wood and it reminds him of the desk and tables in his office, and the lamp on your nightstand has a similar hue to the one in his office, too. And the way you’ve decorated your space is a true reflection of you. There are vases of flowers and greenery on your dressers and desk, a few pictures hung up of you with your family and friends. You have a tapestry hung on one wall made with the colors of beige and gray, something that strikes him as unique; similar to how he sees you. And above all, he notices that your space is neat, making him that much more comfortable to be here with you.

Leaning over your bed, he’s gentle as he sets you down, but he doesn’t leave you. Hovering above your frame, he returns his lips to you, kissing the softness of your mouth before his tongue returns, too. He feels your body, grunting softly when you lift your legs on either side of him, planting the soles of your feet on the bed.

“How has someone not taken you?” He wonders aloud, this thought genuine and one that’s come into his mind many times.

“Oberyn, will you,” Pausing, you try to steady your breath. “Will you let me see more of you?”

You’d do anything to see this man naked. If he’s anything like you’ve imagined, you know he’ll make you wet just from the sight of him. His smile grows over your cheek as he kisses you here, too.

“Only if I can see more of you.” Leaning back to gauge your reaction, he sees you nod, sitting up a bit higher before to shrug his coat off of your shoulders. Sliding it from your arms, your fingers then find the end of your shirt.

Quickly, you lift it off of you, watching Oberyn’s eyes fall to your chest. You’re wearing a light purple bra, a color he finds completely endearing on you. And while he stares, his fingers move to undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt, your own eyes falling to his chest, too. When he’s completely opened his button-up, he allows it to fall off his shoulders, placing it on the end of your bed. And to say your breath has been taken away would be an understatement. Reaching out, you place a hand on his toned stomach, feeling the firm muscles there. His chest is toned, too, along with his biceps and forearms. It’s wildly impressive to see him like this, to see how truly fit he is.

“Lay back for me,” He nods once, his deep voice requesting your attention. Your eyes flicker up to his, watching as he lowers himself back down to you. “You let me know if it’s too much. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.” His breaths fans out over your chest as he says this, your fingers returning to the thick locks of his hair.

“Okay,” You whisper timidly in return, mewling quietly when you feel the first press of his full lips.

He kisses the center of your chest, his mouth moving over your plump flesh. Every moan you exude prompts him to continue, his fingers sliding up and curling over the edge of the cups on your bra. Softly, he tugs them down, revealing your breasts to him.

“Oh…” He moans, instantly lowering his mouth to your naked nipples.

Those full lips wrap around one of your pebbled peaks, and when he sucks it inside, you cry out for him. Arching your back, you feel his tongue swirl around it, licking you passionately. You don’t notice it at first, but your hips have begun moving, grinding up against his own. When you do realize this, you can feel him above you, the hardened length of him straining against his pants.

“Oberyn…”

“Can I undress you?” He asks, those deep brown eyes looking up at you. Glancing down, you see him, his handsome face resting above you. Keeping your gaze, Oberyn’s tongue lays out, licking across the soft curve of your left breast. Your mouth drops open completely at this, brows folding up in the center while he performs this seductive act before you.

“Answer me, sweet thing.”

“Yes…”

“What did I say?” He teases with a grin.

“I don’t, I don’t remember.” Cori was right, you really are under a spell.

Oberyn chuckles, his fingers sliding around to your back so he can undo your bra. “Is this okay?” He asks, leaning in to kiss your jawline. Giving him a tiny moan and a nod, he continues, undoing the clasp and sliding your bra off of you.

“Oh,” Comes his mesmerized sigh, leaning up so both of his hands can hold you. “Such a perfect thing…”

Obsessively, he kisses you, worships your chest in the best ways that he knows how to. He allows his emotions to take over, his body running wild with arousal and adrenaline. Every time you keen for him he throbs in his boxers, feeling himself leak against the fabric. Rolling his hips into the space between your legs, he moans, nipping gently at your delicate skin. Oberyn then begins to lower himself, kissing your ribcage and stomach, your hip bones once he gets to them. And the only protest you have when he does this, is that he’s gotten too far away for you to keep your grasp on his hair.

Slowly, he removes the rest of your clothes, his eyes closed as he hooks his fingers around the edge of your yoga pants. He slides both your leggings and underwear off in one go, kissing every inch of skin he reveals as he pulls the pieces of fabric down your legs. And when they’re gone, you suddenly feel extremely vulnerable, emotionally and physically naked.

Kneeling on the ground just before the edge of your bed, Oberyn places himself right between your legs. His hands fall to the undersides of your thighs, lifting them to his shoulders while he kisses your sensitive skin.

“Baby,” You whine, feeling him soothe one of his bites with a gentle kiss.

“Can I lick you, sweetling?” He then asks, making your heart lurch into your throat.

Lifting yourself onto your forearms, you look down at him. “You want to?”

Deciding to repeat your earlier words, he smirks before saying, “Yes please.”

Again, he holds your gaze, leaning forward at an incredibly slow pace. Just barely, he purses his lips, kissing your sensitive skin once he makes contact with it. Sucking in a sharp breath, your jaw drops open, feeling him kiss you directly on the center of your sex.

“Oberyn,”

“Does it feel good?” He asks, kissing your pink lips again.

“Oh, yes…”

“Do you want more of it?” His voice has become deeper, his eyes darker.

Gulping, you tilt your chin down, giving him a reassuring nod and a quiet, “Yes.”

Closing his eyes, his tongue returns once again, sliding up the seam of your sex. And even though he can no longer see you, you can’t help but stare at him. He moans as he does it, enjoying how the space between your pretty, pretty legs tastes.

“Oh…” Your head falls back between your shoulder blades, Oberyn’s hands sliding up and down your outer thighs and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

With tender swipes, he licks into you, sighing deeply when he feels you squirm. He loves experiencing the ways you react to him. Every groan he gives vibrates through your being, and it's not long before you allow your arms to rest and fall onto your back, fingers reaching for the sheets.

When he moves up to your tingling bud, you give him your first true cry of the night, feeling his lips wrap around it and suck. It seems as though this is his turning point, the time where he turns from gentle and timid to passionate and sure. He leans in, pressing himself into you while grabbing the soft flesh of your thighs. He squeezes you in his hands, swirling his tongue around your clit while he continues suckling on it.

“Oberyn, please…” Reaching down, you find his hair once again, fingers digging into his dark strands. He groans sharply at this, almost growling against you.

Feeling him between your legs is an entirely different experience, and something you never expected to happen. But you’re thrilled, absolutely thrilled that your relationship has gone in this direction.

The fervent laps of his tongue on your sensitive clit make your thighs shake, tightening their embrace on either side of his head. You’re sucking in deep gulps of air, your hips slightly rolling upward and shoving yourself further against his mouth. And he lets you do this, lets you circle yourself over his face while he continues to drink from you.

“Oh my g-god…” When he hears you say this, he grins, hoping that you’ll cum for him. He’s not even fully undressed yet but he knows he wants to fuck you. He’s praying you’ll let him do that to you.

A quiet hiss slips past your lips, your eyebrows furrowing together as you begin to experience your high. It comes on slowly, gently, the blissful sensation of it coming directly from his lips. Oberyn moans into you, his hungry mouth continuing to move over you.

“O-Oberyn…” Suddenly, your hips buck up against him, and that’s when he holds you down.

The muscles in his arms flex as he does it, his fervent mouth relentless against your throbbing core. He can feel you fluttering on his tongue, can feel the slickness of your cum rush out of your sex and into his mouth.

“Ye-es! Please, please don't s-stop!”

He doesn’t, he wouldn't. He keeps the perfect amount of pressure, his pace unwavering until your body truly starts to shake. The overstimulation of his tongue licking you after you’ve cum is almost too much, the hands once pulling him in now pushing him away. When he finally removes himself from you, it’s only from your sensitive center. Turning his head, his lips return, peppering your inner thighs with fervent kisses.

“Please,” You suddenly whine, reaching out for him. “Please come up here.”

As soon as he lifts himself, he meets you with a blinding kiss, one hand falling to your cheek while holding himself up on his forearm. He’s panting above you, his jawline and lips covered in the essence of you.

“Did you like it, sweetling?” His voice is thick as he speaks to you, full of complete lust for you. “Did you like feeling my tongue on you?”

The hand on your cheek drops to your chest, fondling your breasts. Whenever he isn’t speaking to you, he’s putting his mouth on you, his teeth currently digging into your shoulder while he huffs out against you.

“Oberyn, I can’t, I can’t believe you wanted that, wanted to do that.”

Rising just a bit, he growls into your ear, “I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I met you.”

This strikes you right in the heart, right in the center of your being. He’s truly felt this way about you since then? Since you stumbled into his office by accident?

“Oberyn,”

“I want you, pretty thing. I want to have you.” He’s desperate for it; he doesn’t want to wait any longer to take you.

Turning your head and using your hands, you bring him back to you. He kisses you with fervor, working himself up as he begins to roll his hips against you.

“Do you want that, too?” He mumbles against your lips, and you can taste yourself on them.

“I do.” Trying to catch your breath, you nod to the side. “Go into my nightstand. I have condoms in there.”

Shooting upright, he does as you say, sliding open the top drawer of the small piece of furniture to find just what he’s looking for. And when he grabs it, he moves back, standing and taking off the rest of his clothing. Now this you want to see.

Just like he did with you, he slides his pants and boxers off in one go, dropping them onto your floor. As soon as he’s freed of his clothing, you see him hanging heavy between his legs. A small, wanton moan floats freely from your lips as you stare at him, the size of his length honestly impressing you. But Oberyn doesn’t have time to look up at you, he knows you’re gawking at him. Of course you are, it’s the first time he’s been naked in front of you.

He grunts slightly when he rolls the condom onto himself, sighing out deeply as he slides it down. Licking your lower lip, you internally hope you get to see him like this again. There’s no way you won’t go down on him if you get this chance again.

“Lay back for me,” He repeats, returning to you quickly. And he watches as you move, shimmying further up on the bed so he can climb on with you.

With one hand, he grabs his base, releasing a deep breath above you. Leaning on his forearm, he swallows, now looking up at you. Briefly, he worries; should you both be doing this?

“It’s okay, baby,” Nodding, you reach out, holding either side of his face once again. He really likes when you do that. “Go on… please.”

Upon your request, he moves forward, connecting your lips when he notches his head at your entrance. The slightest amount of pressure from him makes you gasp, moaning into his mouth when he continues forward.

“Oberyn,” Your hands slide around, holding the back of his head as you pant out quick breaths.

“Take me,” He says in return, pressing his forehead to your own. “Take all of me, sweet thing.”

“Oh…” His words make you moan, pressing your head back into the pillows.

“Ugh,” It’s his first true, guttural groan, punching out of his lungs when he’s entirely seated inside.

Oberyn’s muscular body presses against you as he allows himself to fall just the slightest bit. You can feel the weight of him, but not unbearably so, just enough for you to know he’s there. And it’s comforting to you. Again, you lift your legs, only this time you wrap them around him.

“How does it feel, sweetling?” Oberyn asks, swallowing thickly. He’s struggling, he’s throbbing.

“Baby,” Clinging to him desperately, you whine. “You know how good it feels.”

Shoving his head into the crook of your neck, he groans, grinding his hips into you. And before you even have time to fully moan, he’s pulling himself back halfway before re-sheathing himself inside you.

This isn’t the first time you’ve had sex, you know how a man feels. But there’s something about the way he rocks himself into you that’s just… different. It’s fiery, overwhelming… it’s consuming you.

He’s making more noise than you expected him to, grunts and groans as he picks up his pace, relentlessly sliding himself into you. Turning your head, you purr devilishly beneath him. “Do you enjoy being inside me, Oberyn?” Brushing aside the hair on his forehead, you hum, pressing your smile against his cheek.

“You enticing little thing…” He groans in response, opening his smiling mouth to breathe.

“Tell me.” You request again. He then gives you a forceful thrust, making you gasp.

“I love this,” Oberyn finally admits, deciding to now reciprocate your sweet wording. “I love being inside you, baby.”

“Oh, I love it when you call me that, I love it…” You’re finding it difficult to keep this up, your small conversation. He’s continuing to pick up the pace of his hips, his muscles tensing and flexing against your bare skin.

“You beautiful thing, letting me have you.” He mutters into your shoulder, grunting with each powerful thrust of his hips. Oberyn’s hand lowers, finding your thigh and grabbing for the beautiful curves of your backside. And then he moves his face, dropping it down to your chest to lick along the curves of your breasts. He’s touching every part of you that he can.

“Oberyn,” Shoving your head back, you arch against him, feeling his teeth graze your pebbled skin. Sloppily, he laps at your left nipple, breathing heavily against your perfectly pliant body. “It feels so, so good when you touch me like that.”

“Really?” He inquires, groaning forcefully when he feels your hips begin to roll up to meet his thrusts. “I’ll do it more often, then.”

“You will?”

“Yes,” His deep voice promises, “If you’ll let me.”

“I’ll let you.” Breathing out a laugh, you shake your head. “I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.”

Lifting his head, he presses his nose to your cheek. “Is that a promise?”

Without verbally responding, you turn your head, bringing his lips back to yours. It’s sloppy, the repeated reunion of your lips, Oberyn’s tongue diving inside your mouth and allowing you to taste your own sex.

“Oberyn!” His thrusts have become so forceful that they’ve hit something deep inside you, something that makes you squirm and cry out for him.

“Give into it,” He suddenly demands, “Give into the sensation of it, sweet thing.”

Digging your nails into his upper back, your eyes roll, closing entirely as he finally begins to shake above you. His moans echo into the back of your mouth, his heated breaths washing your lips with a humid wetness.

“Fuck,” You wine quietly, clinging to him.

Oberyn can feel how deeply you’re being affected by his actions, can feel your insides pulsating around him. And he wants to bring you another high. So, he changes his angle again, shifting his legs so he can pound himself down into your fluttering center.

“Oberyn, please,” Comes your high cry. “P-Please don’t stop.”

His hips slap down against your own, groaning into your shoulder as he shoves his face into the crook of your neck once more. Your stuttered whines sound similar to the noises you made when he was between your thighs, a sense of satisfaction blooming inside him when he feels your hips start to jerk beneath him.

“Where do you want me, sweetheart?” He chokes out, “Do you want me inside?”

“Yes, yes, yesyesyes!”

Your body rocks with every one of his thrusts, finally feeling his muscles seize up. While his tip keeps pressure over your sensitive inner space, his hips stall, now grinding deeply into you. A sensation of absolute bliss floods his body, euphoria filling him from head to toe. Pinching his eyes shut, he groans, huffing out deep breaths into your neck. And your limbs continue to hold him, keeping him inside while you release around his length.

“Perfect girl,” He groans out harshly. “Doing just what I ask of you.”

As your body shivers beneath him, your hands begin to soothe the pain you brought to his skin. Gently, your fingertips run over the marks your nails made along his skin, feeling the tightness in his muscles begin to relax. He admires this about you, your genuine care for him.

Once he catches his breath, Oberyn begins to kiss you all over again. He starts at your shoulder, making his way up your neck, across your jawline, over your chin. And when he gets to your lips, you’re smiling, and all because of him.

Slowly and gently, he pulls out of you, sighing out a breath once he does. But he doesn’t move away from you, he keeps himself pressed to your skin. Snuggling his arms between your back and the bed, he holds you, allowing you to steady your breaths in unison.

“Will you stay?” You quietly ask, petting his hair. He wonders if he should.

Lifting his head from your neck, he looks down at you, his expression unreadable for a moment. Those deep eyes search your own, staring into your soul. Internally, you each wonder… could this be more?

#Oberyn #Baby #Jesus Christ #I need you #Oberyn Martell #Oberyn Martell x you #Oberyn Martell x reader #Oberyn Martell x female reader #Oberyn Martell smut #Oberyn Martell imagine #Oberyn Martell fanfiction #Kinktober #Kinktober 2022 #Sintober #Sintober 2022

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sequinsmile-x · 2 years ago

Text

Mine to Lose

He wasn’t just her husband here, but her boss too. The line blurrier than it had ever been as something in her gut tells her this is a bad idea, her chest constricting with fear.

-x-

Based off of a prompt given to me by @ssa-sparks . A very simple idea, that I made much worse almost immediately.

-x-

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: Canon typical violence, implied torture, mentions of injuries/blood, Aaron Hotchner whump Read over on A03, or below the cut

It was so cold, but she couldn’t feel it. The fear that was burning her from the inside out was keeping her warm, her nerves on edge as the team walks away from her, their guns drawn.

Derek insisted she wait outside, ordering her to stay put as the rest of the team stormed the building. His temporary powers as Unit Chief giving him the ability to do so. Even though she knows he’s right, knows that at this point she’d be more of a hindrance to the team, to Aaron, than a help, she hates him for it. She makes him promise as she glares at him that he’d let her in as soon as they cleared the place, as soon as the men who had taken her husband were in handcuffs or dead.

Emily knows which option she’d prefer.

She’s left alone standing in the freezing cold, twisting her rings round and round on her fingers, when she hears the gunshots. Reverberating around her head, louder than they had ever been before. She runs into the building without thinking, ignoring the sound of the cops calling after her, not thinking about the fact she isn’t wearing a vest. Derek stopped her from even putting one on, so adamant she wasn’t going in that he’d refused, snatching it from her shaky hands before she could undo the buckles.

She’s in the building within seconds, follows the sounds of her team, all talking at once, shouts for an ambulance washing over her like ice water. She makes it to the doorway of the room they’re in and Derek is there, blocking her, a stern look on his face.

“Prentiss, I told you to wait outside.”

“I heard gunshots, what happened?” She says, trying to look past him, to set eyes on her husband for the first time in three days, but Derek won’t let her, Dave also stepping in the way so she can’t see through.

“The unsubs were armed, we had to take them down.” Derek explains, turning to Dave. “Rossi, take Prentiss outside, she can’t be here.”

“What’s going on?” She asks, trying to push past him but Derek uses his strength against her, holding her in place. “Why won’t you let me in?”

“Emily, you-” Derek starts, his voice too sympathetic for her liking, a tone in it they used on victims families all the time, and it makes her heart stop in her chest, her lungs filling with preemptive grief.

“Derek,” she says, her voice shaking, “please let me in. Why won’t you let me see him?” She looks back and forth between her friends. “What’s wrong with Aaron?” The worst case scenarios float through her head, catching on everything they can. Turning memories of him into the images she had seen of the other crime scenes, her husband’s face replacing those of the victims. “Is he dead?”

The tears that she refused to let fall for days gather in her eyes as she thinks of a world without him.

___

Three days earlier

All of the victims look like Aaron.

It’s the first thing she notices when the case is presented to them, the voices of the DC lead detective and Penelope fading out as that’s all she can focus on. The twisted remains of men who would fit her husband’s description perfectly, dumped in alleys like they were trash. Like they hadn’t meant everything to someone.

For four days they skirt around the issue. None of the team mention the obvious, quick glances at her and Aaron when they think she isn’t looking. A not so subtle attempt from all of them to prevent her from going to the most recent crime scene, another victim kept for days of torture before they were killed and disgarded, someone else already being hunted down.

In the end, it’s Dave who suggests it. Who says what they are all thinking. And she hates him for it. It takes all of her self control to bite back the series of expletives that want to break free. Hyper aware of the local cops in the bullpen, of the professionalism that she and Aaron agreed would always come first at work.

“We know where the victims are being taken from, and we know now they’ve dumped the body they’ll be looking for someone new.” Dave says, looking over at Aaron as he carries on. “We can use Hotch as bait, catch them in the act.”

“Absolutely not.” Emily replies, everyone turning to look at her, their gazes alerting her to the fact she had spoken. She clears her throat, her arms crossing over her chest. “There has to be another option.”

“Dave’s right.” Aaron says, his eyes meeting his wife’s. “We have a small window of opportunity, we can catch them before they kill anyone else.”

Emily stares at him, her jaw set in a firm line as she clenches her teeth, stopping herself from being what would be considered insubordinate in this setting. He wasn’t just her husband here, but her boss too. The line blurrier than it had ever been as something in her gut tells her this is a bad idea, her chest constricting with fear. Instead she swallows against the lump in her throat and gives him a sharp nod.

“I want it on record that I think this is a bad idea.” She says, and his response is a flash of a smile. She grabs onto it, tries to find comfort in it.

Something she would need in the days to come.

“Noted.”

___

It all goes wrong almost immediately.

The CCTV in the area their unsubs hunt is spotty at best, meaning Penelope doesn’t have eyes on Aaron at all times. The rest of the team is spread throughout the bar, a cheap, seedy place where the Unit Chief would stand out like a sore thumb, Emily’s attempts at making him look more casual, removing his jacket and tie, almost pointless.

She does her best to keep him in her sights. Moving around the club like a shadow, unseen. Using her long unneeded but not forgotten skills she learnt during her time with Doyle. Her surveillance is brought to an abrupt end when someone spills a drink on her. The sticky alcohol makes her shirt press against her skin, and she exchanges a tight smile with the person in question, nodding at their apology.

When she looks up Aaron is gone.

___

Emily wakes up on the couch in Aaron’s office, shocked awake by something, unaware that she’d even fallen asleep in the first place.

“Woah, Em. It’s ok.” JJ says as Emily sits up quickly, her eyes level with her friends, the other woman kneeling on the ground in front of her. “It’s just me.”

“JJ, hi.” Emily says, blowing out a breath. “Anything new?”

JJ smiles sadly at her and shakes her head, and Emily has to briefly close her eyes to gather herself.

“Did you sleep here all night?” JJ asks, not even trying to cover the concern in her voice.

As soon as it was clear that Aaron was missing the team had scoured the area to no avail, eventually having to go back to the bullpen without him, to figure out their next move. Emily felt like she was in a fishbowl, everyone looking at her like she was on display. Her nerves on edge as she used everything in her to not yell that she knew this was a bad idea, that they hadn’t had enough information to bait the unsubs yet.

Eventually, as the night gave way to the early hours the team decided to take it in shifts, heading home a few at a time to catch a bit of sleep, to shower.

“Yes, I did.”

“Em-”

“What am I supposed to do JJ?” She asks cutting over her friend. “Go home and sleep in our bed knowing those animals have taken him? Have nightmares about him being left like the other victims? Explain to Jack that I don’t know where his father is?”

She clenches her jaw, her teeth grinding together as she holds back the tears, knowing once they started to fall they wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t afford to do that, to fall apart, not until she had him back.

JJ places her hand over Emily’s squeezing it tightly. “I spoke to Jessica,” she says, knowing Emily well enough to know she wouldn’t want to talk about it any further, that practical help was what she needed at this stage, “Jack doesn’t know about Hotch yet, he thinks you’re just working a regular case. Jess is going to bring you some clothes. Your wash bag. You can shower in the gym.”

Emily nods, flashing a tight smile at her friend. “Thank you.”

JJ shrugs, as if her kindness, her friendship, was nothing. “You’d do the same for me.”

___

By the third day, she’s beside herself.

Derek had forced her to go home the night before, asking Dave to drive her and keep her in her house, the older man inviting himself to stay in the spare room despite her protests. He’s good enough to leave her to it when she speaks to Jack. She gives the boy a watered down version of what was going on. Explains that the case was being worked on constantly, that no one was giving up.

She hates telling him, hates herself for the look on his face as realisation kicks in, and she wishes she could have protected him from it. To allow him to keep some of the innocence he had left, already so much taken from him so young. But she once told him she’d never lie to him, that she’d always be honest, and she wasn’t going to break that promise.

Emily sleeps with Jack in his tiny twin bed, unable to face her own, both of them pressed together. The young boy's tears burning against her neck as she sleeps fitfully.

Time moves like syrup at work, slow and unforgiving as she loses hope bit by bit. Knowing that the timeline they’d figured out, the victims kept for three days before they were killed, was coming to a close. If they didn’t find him Aaron would be dead by morning, his body left in a place where he’d be stumbled upon as the city sprang to life. A new dawn marred by a violent end.

She finds herself thinking about the practicalities. How she’s grateful she became Jack’s legal guardian when she married Aaron, that she’d be able to keep him if the worst happened.

She’s sitting with a cup of coffee in her hands, mostly for the warmth against her cool skin, thinking about how, if Aaron didn’t come back, that she’d quit her job, live off her trust fund money as she raised Jack. Determined he wouldn’t lose a third parent to this job. She’s lost in her own world, her thoughts spiralling, when Derek gains her attention, her name on his lips as she looks up.

“Emily?”

“Yes?”

“Reid’s figured it out, we’ve got to go.” Derek says firmly, the urgency in the situation clear.

The clock was ticking.

She stands up quickly, her hand on her hip to make sure her gun was still in place, reaching for her jacket.

“Prentiss, where do you think you’re going?” Derek exclaims, his eyebrows furrowing in concern.

“I’m coming with you.”

He shakes his head “No-”

“I’m coming with you.” She repeats firmly, staring at him, any concern about being insubordinate long gone.

He stares her down, looking like he would argue with her for a second, but then he nods sharply.

“Fine.” He replies. “But you are not coming on the take down with us.”

She agrees, but they both know she doesn’t mean it.

___

“What’s going on?” She asks, trying to push past him but Derek uses his strength against her, holding her in place. “Why won’t you let me in?”

Neither of them answer her, and she finally manages to push past them, frozen to the spot the moment she enters the room.

He’s alive. Just.

He looks awful. Every piece of skin she can see black and blue, his shirt stained with blood. His wrists look raw, the restraints someone from the team had clearly removed before she entered the room next to him. She’s grateful for it, that the image of him chained up is something she’s been spared.

She doesn’t look at anyone before she makes it to his side, the team and the dead unsubs on the floor no longer crossing her mind, her husband her only consideration.

Her knees hit the ground and she doesn’t feel the impact of the hard concrete, only the way her pants immediately stick to her skin. She ignores the knowledge she has that tells her it’s blood. His blood.

She cups his cheek, cradles his face in her hands.

“Aaron?” She says gently, her thumbs stroking at his grimy skin. He doesn’t open his eyes, doesn’t flinch, and she feels her chest get tighter. “Aaron.” She repeats, firmer this time.

“He was unconscious when we found him.” JJ explains, her voice as gentle and calm as ever. The reassuring force the team always needed.

“It might be best, given his injuries.” Spencer says, in what Emily knows is an attempt to be comforting, but it lances at her, puts a crack in the already crumbling facade she’d put up the last few days.

The only thing that stops her from snapping is the arrival of the paramedics, and Derek all but lifting her from the ground to stop her from being in the way.

___

She calls Jessica. She tells her and Jack that Aaron is ok, but in the hospital, and that she’d call again when she has more information.

Time has no meaning as she waits for a doctor to come see her, to give her an update. The team sits around her and provides silent support, understanding when she refuses coffee, snacks or the option of getting some air. Not wanting to be away for a second incase there was news.

Emily has no idea how much time has passed when the doctor finally appears, Aaron’s name barely out of his mouth before she stands.

“Family of Aaron Hotchner?”

“I’m his wife.” She says, already approaching the kind looking man. “Is he ok?”

“Your husband is very lucky Mrs Hotchner,” he says, a smile on his face as he leads her away from the waiting room. She shoots a look over her shoulder at the team and they all nod in understanding, nothing needing to be said. “He has several broken ribs, and his lung is punctured. We had to put in a chest tube.” The doctor continues, talking to her as they walk towards a room. “He has a fractured cheekbone and a significant amount of bruising. He’ll be here for several days.”

Emily scoffs, the sound catching in her throat on the way out. “He’ll hate that.”

“He’s already tried to argue with us about that.”

She stops in her tracks, the doctor stopping along with her. “He’s awake?”

He’d remained unconscious the entire ride in the ambulance, her hand wrapped tightly around his limp one as the paramedics did what they could with his injuries until they reached the hospital.

The doctor smiles kindly at her. “He’s awake.” He points towards the room two doors down from them. “He’s in there. He’s a little out of it, but you can go sit with him for a little while.

“Thank you.” She says, smiling gratefully before she walks away, desperate to see her husband.

Despite being prepared for his injuries, they still take her by surprise when she walks into his room. He looks better than he did when she last saw him, but he still looks awful.

“Hi.” He whispers, his voice hoarse, his throat clearly dry.

“Hi.” She replies, not missing the slight shake to her voice. She walks over to his bed, sitting on the edge of it and grabbing his hand, the slight squeeze she gets back relieving the knot in her chest. “I’m so glad to see you.”

“You too.” He replies, attempting to smile at her, one of the dimples she loves lost in the swelling of his cheek. “So…turns out you were right.”

She knows he’s trying to be funny, to get rid of some of the tension she has no doubt he can see on her face, but it makes her sigh, makes her grasp his hand even tighter.

“Aaron.”

“Sorry. Probably too soon.” He says, flashing another smile at her.

“Far, far too soon.” She replies, reaching up to cup his undamaged cheek, his skin how clean. “It might always be too soon with this one.”

“I’m sorry.” He whispers and she shakes her head at him, leaning forward to kiss him quickly.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

He holds her hand as tight as he can, his usual strength weakened. “Jack?”

“He knows you’re safe.” She assures him. “I’ll bring him by tomorrow, but I’ll have to prepare him.” She smirks at him, sniffing to push back the onslaught of emotion she was still holding back. “I don’t know if anyones told you, but you look like shit.”

He laughs and immediately winces, reaching to press against the area where he has a chest tube.

“God, don’t make me laugh.” He groans, and she scrunches her nose in sympathy, familiar with the pain in question. Memories of being alone in Bethesda briefly overwhelming her, everything fuzzy, slightly out of reach, except for the pain and the loneliness. The desire to hold his hand.

“Sorry.” She says, kissing him again. “I love you.”

He smiles at her, his eyes tired. “I love you too.”

___

Eventually, a nurse who was not intimidated by Emily’s gun and badge, throws her out of his hospital room.

By the time she makes it home the sun is rising. Her exhaustion is almost bone deep as the door to their house closes behind her.

She’s not surprised to find Jessica is awake and in their kitchen. She was an early riser just like Aaron and Jack, and how she had been told Haley had been too. They exchange a hug, and Emily has to break it off to stop herself from breaking down in front of the other woman, knowing her hold on her emotions was tentative.

Jessica leaves, a promise thrown over her shoulder that she’d come back for Jack that evening and take him to hers, giving Emily some time to process everything.

Emily sits on the couch, the house silent around her, and she breaks. Everything she had held back since she lost sight of Aaron in the club flying to the forefront, a wave she wouldn’t have been able to escape if she wanted to. She lets herself get pulled under by it, held down by the riptide of emotions she had suppressed.

She covers her mouth to muffle the sob that escapes, her tears seeming never ending once they start. Relief and fear escaping her in equal measure. All the thoughts she had of a life without Aaron over the last few days spilling out of her, how dull it all seemed. How lifeless.

It was something she was so grateful they’d escaped again. So pleased she still had him, and simultaneously afraid they wouldn’t be so lucky next time.

“Emily?”

She turns sharply to see Jack standing behind her, his brows furrowed in concern. His pyjamas and hair rumbled by sleep.

“Jack.” She exclaims, fiercely wiping her cheeks with her fingers, the tears immediately replaced anyway. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“Is Daddy ok?” He asks, rounding the couch to stand in front of her, talking quickly, something he always did when he was scared. “You said he was ok, Aunt Jess did too-”

“Sweetheart,” she says, cutting him off before he can spiral any further, leaning forward to grab his hand, “he’s ok. He was sleeping when I left.” She reaches out and runs her hand over his hair. “He’s ok.”

“Then why are you crying?” He asks, the hand that wasn’t clasped in hers touching her cheek, his skin warm against hers.

She smiles at him and sighs. “I’m just really happy your dad is ok,” she answers, “I was…” she drifts off, unsure how to explain this to her young stepson.

“Scared?” He asks, tilting his head at her as if he was trying to profile her. Something he had clearly picked up from the two of them.

“Yeah,” she replies, her voice shaking, “I was scared.”

Jack stares at her for a moment before he climbs into her lap, her arms automatically wrapping around him as he settles against her.

“I was scared too.” Jack admits, and she holds him tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. They sit in silence for a few seconds, taking comfort in each other, before she speaks again.

“How about you stay home from school with me today,” she says, her hand running up and down his back, “and we’ll get some sleep and then we’ll go see dad, ok?”

He pulls back to look at her and nods enthusiastically. “Can we sleep in the big bed?”

She smiles at him. She hadn’t walked into her bedroom since Aaron went missing, the idea of entering the room she had last been in with him too much to bear when the idea of losing him was too real. She knew one of his ties was still on the bed from where he’d been unable to choose the morning of the day he was taken. That her jewellery was still strewn across the dressing table.

A moment frozen in time that almost became their last.

“Yes baby,” she says pushing his hair from his forehead, smiling despite her watery eyes, “we can sleep in the big bed.”

She holds him tightly, and for the first time in days she knows everything is going to be ok.

-x-

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nsheetee · 4 years ago

Text

109 Steps To You

this is a part of the “almost” collaboration hosted by @hyucksie

Pairing: Haechan x Reader Genre: romance, fluff, angst, mature content, soulmate!AU, college!AU Length: 19k Summary: Everyone is born with two marks on their body: one that is identical to your soulmate’s, and one that is identical to the person who will cause you immense pain. No one knows which mark means what until they live out their life and meet the people destined to bring them love and hurt. However, you were only born with one mark. Out of all the places you thought you would meet the person with the mark identical to yours, you never thought it would be on your first day of college. Warnings/Details: female reader, mentions of other nct members (and yuqi from g-idle), explicit sex (unprotected + the consequences that come with it), mentions of a dysfunctional family, swearing

— read epilogue here

a/n: if you’re a minor: beware! there is explicit and mature content in this fic.

“I want to thank you guys, again, for helping me out today.” You shyly announce to the table, swirling your spoon through your froyo and glancing back and forth between the other people sitting before you.

“Oh, it’s no problem, we weren’t doing anything today anyway.” Xiaojun softly knocks his elbow into yours, sending a reassuring smile your way. If it wasn’t for Xiaojun, an old childhood friend, you weren’t sure how moving into your dorm room and getting settled into campus would’ve gone; you would probably still be a mess right now.

“He’s right. Plus, I really wanted to meet the girl Jun kept raving about, he wouldn’t stop talking about how much we would like you-” Mark’s comment is quickly cut off, a thud under the table and a pained look on Mark’s face giving away that Xiaojun just kicked him.

“I just hope I lived up to the hype.” You laugh at their antics.

“Oh, definitely,” Yuqi quickly buts in before Mark can retaliate back at Xiaojun, “And I live a few floors below you, so just let me know if you need anything at all.” She adds on, her warm deposition and all around friendliness from today making you let out a small sigh of relief, some stress falling off your shoulders when you realize just how many people around you are here to help you out.

“I appreciate it so much, really.” You lean away from Xiaojun and Mark, closer to Yuqi and Lucas who are sitting on the other side of the table, “By the way, I love your guys’ marks. They look so good on both of you.”

At your comment, Lucas puts down his phone and gently grabs Yuqi’s hand, their matching chamomile flower marks touching as their fingers intertwine. You almost didn’t notice their matching marks earlier today when they were helping you set up your dorm room, but when you did, you couldn’t help but stop what you were doing and stare at their hands. Such a simple mark has never looked so pretty to you, maybe it’s because Lucas and Yuqi made such a good pair that their fated marks looked so right for them.

“I still wish I got a cool dragon mark down my back, but I’ll let Jun be the one to deal with that in this life.” Lucas smirks at Xiaojun, who just rolls his eyes at Lucas’ fake jealousy. “Yours looks good, too.” He finishes and glances down at your left hand. There, a dragonfly mark stains your skin, the long tail trailing over your thumb and the wings spreading out over the back of your hand and your wrist.

“Thank you.” Your reply is genuine, however you can’t help but remember the solemn fact that surrounds your mark, your voice inadvertently dipping down as your eyes trace over the wings of your dragonfly.

“So, what kind of classes are you taking this semester?” Xiaojun changes the subject, no doubt hearing the lament in your voice.

“Oh, just some required classes. Nothing for my major, really, except Intro to Ethics for my humanities credit.” You reply as casually as you can to bring the mood at the table back up, but your comment makes Yuqi gasp and all four pairs of eyes at the table turn to you. You slouch in your seat at their sudden attention on you.

“Why would you do that to yourself?”

“What is wrong with you?”

“Do you know your advisor's email? Let’s send them a message right now to get you out-”

“Stop.” You shake your head, laughing a bit at the overreaction from your new friends, “What’s wrong with Ethics?”

“It’s in the Hauss building.” Xiaojun says as if you should already know what that means. You roll your lips in and shake your head; you do not know what that means at all.

“It’s the building all the way on top of the big hill on the west side of campus, by the auditorium.” Xiaojun explains more.

“They only teach three classes over there: Ethics and Music Theory 3 and 4.” Mark sets down his melted froyo, not realizing he has some sticking to his upper lip.

“I’m failing to see what’s so horrible about that?”

“When Xiaojun says it’s a big hill, he means it’s a really big hill-”

“Didn’t someone count the steps once and it came out to be, like, close to 100?” Lucas asks, one hand still tangled with Yuqi’s and the other now rapidly slurping his triple chocolate froyo.

“That was me, and it’s 109 steps.” Mark shutters, “I took Music Theory 3 last year and I ended up skipping half of the time because I couldn’t find the energy to climb up and down those steps three times a week.”

“Why 109? Aren’t groups of steps usually in even numbers? That’s not very architecturally smart.” Yuqi purses her lips and her eyebrows screw together.

“Screw architecture. Are you telling me I’ll have to climb up and down 109 stairs three times a week just to go to Ethics?” You can already feel a headache growing at the back of your head when you think about the complications of dealing with this big staircase. You needed that class for your major, and you thought it was going to be a class that you could pass with flying colors, but it seems like it might just be a nuisance to you more than an easy A.

“Talk to your advisor. Try to drop out and take a different class. Trust me, 109 steps don’t seem like much until you actually have to climb them.” Mark gives you his piece of advice, sticking his spoon filled with froyo into his mouth and then immediately scrunching his eyes and mumbling about brain freeze.

You’ll have to send an e-mail to your advisor real quick, but for your first day of classes tomorrow, you’ll just have to deal with those 109 steps.

The walk to your ethics class the next morning is very calming, the university’s nice landscaping and the warm weather calming your nerves down for your first day of classes. When you round the corner of the stonewall you had been following, you’re met with the infamous set of steps.

You have to crane your neck to look up at the top of the staircase, your jaw slightly dropping at how steep of a hill the stairs were built on. There are other students around you walking up and down the staircase, their headphones shoved in their ears and their heads down as they make the climb to and from class.

The stonewall you had been following all the way here continues up the staircase on your right and on the left is a thick wall of trees, their branches hanging over the stairs and giving protection from the sunlight to the students below. You begin to count every step on your way up; four regular steps, the fifth one a bit longer than the rest, and then repeat. It’s not that you don’t trust Mark’s words when he said there’s 109 steps, you just want to count for yourself.

You hear some rowdy boys coming down the stairs, but the noise is not enough to pull your head up from the ground or to stop you from counting, until you’re forcefully pushed into the stone wall on your right. Breathing in through your teeth sharply, your left hand clutches your collarbones where the pain is the worst.

“Oh, my god. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to push you.” The guy laughs through his words, a high-pitched and almost squeaky laugh, making him sound not as sincere as he probably meant to be. When you turn to face him, the first thing you notice are his eyes. Chocolate colored and almond shaped, some laugh lines showing from the remnants of his shenanigans with his friends.

Looking back, you realize you fell in love with his eyes first. How they don’t hold back from showing any emotion, and the mischievousness they hold no matter what.

Even when his smile falls, his face looks pretty; long hair hanging down over his forehead and ears, and plump lips spreading into an ‘o’ shape as he looks at your dragonfly. Every line and detail is just the same as his own, as if fate spent a little more time with you two to make sure you know you’re each other’s soulmate the moment you meet.

“Your mark…” The man points at your hand, and that’s when you realize who you’ve just met. His brilliant eyes fill with excitement and he starts to breath harder, taking a step back from sheer surprise that you’re here. His soulmate. His one and only for the rest of this life.

However it all fades away the moment you drop your hand from your collarbones, stepping past him to continue up the staircase.

“Next time, watch where you’re going.” The first words you ever say to him are filled with so much indifference that Haechan can only follow your back with his eyes, his jaw slack and his hand still reaching out for you.

“Hey, wait-” Haechan is about to run after you, but he’s held back by Renjun, his best friend and the one who pushed Haechan into you in the first place.

“Was that-” Renjun begins, holding onto his friend’s elbow as he also watches you walk up the rest of the 109 steps.

“Yeah… Why did she ignore me like that? She saw that I have the same mark. We’re soulmates!” Haechan almost cries out in confusion, his heart and mind in a mess. Can you blame him? He’s been waiting to meet his soulmate since he knew what the dragonfly on his hand meant. Haechan has never been a patient person, and even waiting several years for you to come to him was testing him. Now that you’re here, he isn’t going to let you go easily.

As Haechan begins to walk back up the staircase to follow you, not caring about his Literature class in 15 minutes, Renjun’s grip on him tightens and pulls him back.

“You can’t just go harass her about this.”

“I’m not going to harass her. I just want to talk.” Haechan tries to pull out of Renjun’s grip again, but the little man has the sturdiness of a boulder and pulls his friend back.

“Maybe she doesn’t want a soulmate?” Renjun and Haechan stop their tug of war at Jaemin’s words. He had been leaning against the handrail by the trees the whole time while watching the scene unfold in front of him, his arms crossed over his chest and his baseball cap covering his eyes. “It’s not that uncommon these days.”

Haechan and Renjun let go of each other at their friend’s words. Jaemin sends them a bitter smile and all three of them recall the incident that happened last year when Jaemin met his own soulmate:

A rejection.

Jaemin took it hard; if it hadn’t been for his best friends, he doesn’t know where he would be in life right now. Jaemin can’t help but let the memories surface as he continues to walk down the stairs, slower than before, his head bowed and his hands shoved into his pant pockets. Renjun sends Haechan a look that tells him to not push the situation further, following Jaemin down the stairs.

Haechan sends your retreating figure one last look, watching you reach the top of the staircase and walk into the Hauss building. He retreats and follows his friends dejectedly, the promise of you showing up on this staircase at the same time on Wednesday being the only thing that lets his legs follow his friends down the stairs.

“Hey, ___, come in.” Mark smiles brightly when he recognizes you at the door, stepping aside to let you into the dorm room. “Xiaojun is in the shower still… Will you be okay by yourself if I leave?” He looks unsure as you set your backpack down on Xiaojun’s desk chair.

“Oh, I’ll be fine. You do whatever you need to.” You state and then plop down onto your friend’s bed. You hear Mark laugh and say something about how all the first years look tired at the end of their first day and then leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. You lay sprawled out on the bed, the only sounds surrounding you is the water from the shower and the ticking of the analog clock on the wall.

Even though the whole ordeal happened several hours ago, you haven’t been able to get the moment you met your soulmate out of your mind. It was almost impossible for you to turn around and walk away. Even now, your feet still itch to go back to that staircase and find the sweet looking guy who you no doubt left confused.

However, you can’t do that— you won’t let yourself do that. And that’s partially why you’re in Xiaojun’s dorm room after your last class today: so that he can knock some sense into you.

The shower turns off and a few moments later, the bathroom door opens and Xiaojun steps out. He has a towel wrapped around his waist and a smaller one on his shoulders to catch the droplets from his hair; when he sees you laying on his bed, he jumps in fright.

“Good, God,” He sighs and clutches his bare chest with one hand, the other protectively going to the towel around his waist. “Can you say something the next time you come over? I almost had a heart attack because of you.” He walks over to his closet on the other side of the room, rummaging through some clothes as you sit up.

“Sorry, I thought you heard the door open…” You trail off, getting distracted by Xiaojun’s mark. The dragon on his back is huge, taking up most of the area and spreading to his shoulders and upper arms, too. However, that’s not the mark that caught your attention. Right on his ankle sits a three-leaf clover, so small and such a stark difference from the monster drawn on his back.

You’re pulled away from your thoughts when Xiaojun turns around and walks back into the bathroom, this time leaving the door open, “So, how was your first day?”

“Oh, well, it was okay…” You trail off, speaking a bit louder so that he could hear you from the other room. You stand up and start pacing in the space between Mark’s and Xiaojun’s beds, a nervous habit of yours.

“But? I know there’s a ‘but’ somewhere.” Xiaojun replies.

“Well, something happened…” You trail off, not sure how to make the words leave your mouth yet.

“What is it?” You swallow at the question, your throat dry and hands clammy. You must’ve been taking a long time to answer because Xiaojun walks out of the bathroom, now fully clothed, and stares at your pacing form. “What’s wrong, ___.”

“I met him.” You say simply, hoping Xiaojun gets what you mean, but he doesn’t. You sigh and sink down to the floor slowly, catching yourself on Xiaojun’s bed. The action makes his eyes widen in fear and he crosses the room in a few short strides, kneeling down next to you and searching your eyes for the answer.

“What? What is it?”

“The person with the same mark as me. I met him.”

“... Oh.”

Xiaojun slowly slides down onto his butt in front of you, folding his legs. He’s not sure what to say, or how to comfort you in anyway. He didn’t expect to be the only person around that you trust when something like this happens. He sees the lost look in your eyes and slides towards you to pull you into a hug.

Unlike Xiaojun, and most people in the world, you do not have two marks.

Xiaojun’s dragon and clover match with two different people in this world; one who will be his soulmate and the other who will bring him immense pain. Everyone has two marks— except you; it even states it on your birth certificate, your parents can testify that they’ve never seen a second mark on you, just the lonely dragonfly that spreads its wings over your left hand.

When you were younger, you were curious about what it meant to only have one mark. The people around you always had two marks, the people on the TV shows you liked to watch always had two marks, even anatomy books have depictions of humans with two marks. Why were you different? What did it mean?

After gathering up the guts to type the question into the Google search engine, you found your answers, and it changed your thoughts on your one and only mark forever. The people in the world who only had one mark testified to the same story online: the person who’s mark matched theirs were both their soulmate and the person who hurt them the most.

After learning about that, you promised yourself that if you ever met the person with the same mark as you, you would not meddle with them in any way if they were only destined to bring you pain in the end.

If you knew jumping off a bridge would definitely kill you, you wouldn’t jump, right?

Xiaojun is the only person, other than your parents, who knows about the situation. Which is why when he hugs you, you lean into him and accept his comfort.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about. You must have so many questions.” He mumbles into your hair.

“Not questions. I’m just curious about what I am to him.” You reply, whispering into Xiaojun’s shoulder.

“About what you are to him?”

“I know he’ll be the person I’m meant to love the most, and also the person who will hurt me the most. But am I the one that’s supposed to love him or the one that’s supposed to hurt him?”

“Lots of people say that they can feel it when they meet. Like Lucas, he said he instantly knew Yuqi was supposed to be his soulmate.” Xiaojun thinks back to all the people who have told him the exact same thing, even his parents.

“The guy… he kept calling me his soulmate. He sounded so sure about it, too.” You lean away from Xiaojun to look into his big and curious eyes.

“What about you? What did you feel?” He asks.

“It felt… like I left a part of myself with him.” Xiaojun’s eyes widened at that, “Is that crazy? I was only around him for a minute, maybe less, and I can’t stop thinking about how I never wanted to leave. It was so hard to walk away from him..” You trail off, feeling tears suddenly gather at the edges of your eyes.

“Xiaojun…” The edge in your voice makes him grab a hold on your hands, “I don’t want him to hurt me. I’m not ready for it.”

“Hey, hey…” Xiaojun squeezes your hands before gently guiding your face to his, meeting his eyes with your own, “He’ll hurt you eventually, yeah, but he’ll also be the person who is supposed to love you unconditionally. The person who is going to know you so well, better than yourself. Maybe you should see where he takes you in life? Destiny still wanted you to meet each other no matter what the end game is going to be… Are you really going to tell fate to fuck off?”

“Can’t I?” Your response makes Xiaojun laugh, which he apologises for laughing in a serious situation right after, but the mood is already broken and you laugh at yourself a bit as well.

“C’mon, let’s order something to eat and get your mind off of this, even if it’s just for a few hours.” Xiaojun pulls you off of the floor and reaches for his phone, trying to find the phone number to his favorite delivery place.

You sit on his bed once again, your hands limp in your lap and so much appreciation for Xiaojun in your chest. You probably would’ve gone insane if he wasn’t here for you. His suggestion on giving the guy you met today a chance plays like a record in your head, but the record scratches when you remember the promise you made to yourself a long time ago.

Don’t mess with him. He will only bring you pain in the end.

On Wednesday, Haechan is the first one out of his seat in his Music Theory 3 class, not even waiting for the slow Renjun and even slower Jaemin before sprinting out of the classroom and outside, waiting at the top of the staircase for your figure to appear at the bottom.

Students float up and down the stairs, but he doesn’t see you anywhere amongst them. Eventually, Renjun and Jaemin catch up to him, standing behind him and also staring down the long staircase.

“C’mon, Haechan, we need to go to our next class.” Renjun is the first one to step down, followed by Jaemin. Haechan takes a good look at everyone’s faces on his way down, getting some weird looks sent his way for staring, but he doesn’t care.

“Haechan.” Jaemin suddenly calls out, making his friend turn suddenly to look at him. Jaemin only nods his head to the bottom of the stairs where you just turned the corner. Despite his hurry from before, Haechan stops at the sight of you. His usual confidence is lost when he sees you climb the stairs. Now, he’s not sure if he should approach you.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Renjun nudges Haechan, but the younger only turns around to look at his friend.

“I don’t know what to say to her. What do I say to make her see I’m her soulmate?” Haechan asks, helplessness seeping into his words.

Renjun rolls his eyes; whenever his best friend needs to be the usual confident man he is, that’s when the confidence is most likely to drain out of him. Renjun shakes Haechan’s shoulders with a tight grip on his jacket, making some more people send the two of them some weird looks.

“She’s your soulmate, right? Fate already gave you everything you need to know about how to talk to her.” Renjun then pushes his friend towards your direction, “But for the love of god, don’t harass her.” Renjun ends with a pointed look and continues walking with Jaemin down the stairs.

Haechan slowly makes his way to you, crossing over to the middle of the staircase and stopping you in your tracks. You look up to inspect who it is that just stopped in front of you, and your surprise fades when you realize it’s the same guy from Monday.

“Hi.” He says simply. You only nod your head, lips pursed, and then move around him to continue walking to class.

“Wait…” Haechan calls after you, but you don’t stop this time. So Haechan keeps walking after you, only one step behind, “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but you’re my soulmate. I’ve been waiting for you for so long—” You sharply turn to face him, making Haechan cut off and tilt his head up to look at you.

“How do you know I’m your soulmate? What if I’m not?” You ask. Haechan shakes his head softly at that, his golden hair moving over his sun-kissed skin as he does.

“That’s not possible.”

“How do you know?” You ask. Haechan loves how curiosity burns in your eyes. He takes longer than normal to speak only so that he can look over your features and memorize them to the best of his ability. Last night, he tried to recall your face but the image came out so blurry since he only saw you for a moment on Monday. He wants to clearly remember what you look like.

“How about I take you somewhere, and then I’ll tell you?” The proposition stuns you, and your burning curiosity makes you want to say yes. However, going anywhere with him would be breaking your promise to yourself, so you decide to forget it.

“Nevermind…” You mumble, turning around to walk up the stairs again.

“You seem like you really want to know how I’m sure we’re soulmates… Aren’t you curious?” Haechan asks, making you stop in your tracks again. This man has only known you for a day, only talked to you for a few moments, yet he already knows how to get you to do something. “I promise I won’t hurt you, and I’m not lying either.”

You take a moment to think about the proposition. You’re really curious about how he’s so sure that you’re soulmates. Sure, you know you’re soulmates, but why is he so sure you aren’t the person who’s supposed to hurt him? You consider taking up the offer, but can you stay strong to your own promise while being close to him?

Curiosity wins, and you turn back around to face him, nodding and making him smile widely. There’s that crinkle in his eyes again, that sparkle against the sun that makes saying yes to him so much more worth it.

“My friends call me Haechan, but you can call me Donghyuck. That’s my real name.” He sticks out his hand for you to shake. You once heard that physical touch brings soulmates together quicker; you’re not sure if that’s true, but you don’t want to test it.

“I’m ___.” You nod at him and grip onto your backpack straps instead of accepting his handshake.

“Haechan, hurry up or we’ll be late!” You both hear Renjun shout out from the bottom of the stairs, “And on our second day, too.” You hear him groan.

“Okay, ___, I’ll see you here at 7pm tomorrow night.” Haechan turns around to run back to his friends, sending you one last wave goodbye and almost tripping down the stairs as he does.

You take a deep breath and turn around to walk up the rest of the steps. You’re unsure if you did the right thing by agreeing to see him tomorrow night, but the deed is now done, and you can only wait for Donghyuck to quench your curiosity.

As promised, you meet Donghyuck at 7 o’clock sharp the next day. He’s already waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs.

“So, where are you taking me?” You ask after saying your hello’s.

“It’s a surprise.” He smiles and nods his head to make you follow him. He leads you through parts of campus you haven’t seen yet, the buildings looking older and older the further down the path you walk. Soon, Donghyuck takes a sharp turn into what looks like the middle of the forest but is really just a small, hidden extension of the trail.

Under a canopy of tall trees that wave with the wind to you and Donghyuck, there is a skinny trail that leads to glimmering water. It draws you in, your curiosity struck and your feet now moving on their own accord. Bushes tickle your ankles and the smell of some sort of flower you cannot identify floods your senses, but you can only keep walking towards the sparkling water.

The scene in front of you takes your breath away, a crisp gasp that you have no control over leaves your lips. The pond before you is big, stretching further than what you can see. The water is blue and the setting sun’s light reflects off of it to create rippling sparkles. There are some lily pads floating around, their flowers gone due to the temperature dropping recently.

You didn’t even notice that you stopped walking, your eyes wide as you take in the scenery before you. You almost forget who you’re with and why you came, but Donghyuck doesn’t let that happen. You snap out of it when he continues to walk along the trail that leads around the pond. You walk alongside Donghyuck, a few feet away with your hands awkwardly tucked into your pockets.

“C’mon, let’s sit.” He motions to a weeping willow tree. It’s tall and the branches sway pleasantly in the wind, completely unaware and indifferent to the years of history in the area. Underneath the tree is a sturdy bench, you sit on the left side while Donghyuck sits on the right side. Then, you both take a few moments to stare at the mesmerizing water that led you all the way to this seemingly magical place.

“Why did you bring me here?” You ask after a bit.

“Do you not like it?” Donghyuck asks back.

“No.” You quickly reply, looking over his side profile before turning back to the water, “I’m just curious.”

“Something in me knew you would like this place, that’s all.” Donghyuck replies while trying to hide his proud smile, looking down at the grass. “You’re curious about a lot of things, huh?”

“Yeah, I can’t help it. There’s just so much I want to know.” It’s easy to talk to him, a bit too easy. You have to keep reminding yourself that you’re supposed to have your guard up in front of him, but it’s proving harder than you thought it would be.

“Like how I’m sure that you’re my soulmate and not the person who is supposed to hurt me?” Donghyuck leans his weight away from you, his eyebrow cocked in a question. You nod your head lightly, playing with your hands on your lap.

“It’s because I’ve already met the person who’s supposed to bring me pain. I’ve already been hurt.” At his words, surprise fills you up and you turn your head to look him straight in the eye.

For some reason, you always thought that when people meet the person who brings them the largest amount of pain to their life, they couldn’t be the same ever again. How does one get hurt so badly, and still live on?

There are so many ways to hurt someone. Some people become bankrupt, some people lose all of their belongings, some people are even physically hurt by the person who has the same mark as them. How does a person go through any of that and still be themselves afterwards? More importantly, how did Donghyuck go through immense pain and still be able to smile at you like he is right here, right now?

“Here.” He begins to explain, pushing his pants around until you can see his second mark through one of the holes in his jeans, a sunflower on his knee, “My dad had the same mark as me.”

“Your…. Dad?” You ask, still confused.

“Mhmm,” He nods, now tracing the petals of the sunflower mark absentmindedly, “My parents immediately knew something was wrong when I was born. Why would a son and dad have the same mark? When I was growing up, he worked a lot, so I spent lots of time with my mom and grew closer to her. I don’t remember much from that time, but I do remember we were happy. We didn’t have a lot, but we had each other; that kind of feeling.” He looks over at you to see if you’re keeping up with the story. To Donghyuck’s surprise, you already have tears lining your eyes.

“Then one day, Dad comes home and tells us he lost his job. I remember my parents fought a lot the few weeks after that happened, mostly about how to raise me if they had no income. Dad would go out and look for work, but always came back with no luck. So eventually, my mom started working. For a while, the reason we could keep living was because of her.” Donghyuck swallows and pauses for a moment before continuing.

“And then one night, dad came home and told us he gambled. Everything, he gambled everything away. Even the little that we had, it wasn’t ours anymore. That night, my dad told me I was a mistake. My parents never meant to have me, and he said…” Donghyuck purses his lips for a moment. It had been a while since he thought about this. The scar on his heart still hurts when he picks at it. “... He said that he wished I had never been born. Then, we wouldn’t have been in that mess.”

“How old were you?” You speak up after a moment.

“Seven? Or eight.” He nods and sniffs his nose, looking down at his knee. The whole day, Donghyuck was preparing himself to tell you this story. He felt that the only way to get close to you was to open up like this first, to show you that he isn’t someone scary or bad. To Donghyuck’s surprise, telling this story hurts less now than it did earlier in this life. Maybe that means time is working, and his heart is being mended bit by bit.

Donghyuck leans his elbows against his knees, looking at the water once again while waiting for you to say anything. Are you still curious? What do you think of him now?

He was in no way prepared to feel your arms wrap around his waist in a hug, your head resting against his shoulder and your chest pressed against his side. He freezes for a moment, and then melts into your embrace completely. He’s overcome with lovesick softness for you, lightly griping the part of your arm that’s across his chest as his head turns to the side to press a kiss to the top of your head. It’s so quick that you don’t even have time to move away or to react. You just let it happen, as it’s supposed to be.

“You said that something in you knew I would like this place,” You mumble against him. He hears your voice straining with emotion, “Well, something in me knows that you need this right now.”

You and Donghyuck sit there until the sparkling water is no longer fueled by the sun’s light, but by the moon’s. It seems as though now you’ve touched Donghyuck, you never wanted to stop. You’re almost one hundred percent sure that it’s because of the soulmate bond, and a part of you nags at yourself for already chipping away at the promise you made to yourself when you were younger.

However, younger you never knew what it would be like to have a person sit in front of you and share a part of his past with you in an act of confidence and security. Your younger self never knew what it would be like to feel the same pain as someone else, and the pull you felt to touch him after sensing that physical affection would help ease that pain away.

Your younger self had no idea it was this easy to fall into a person, especially when you know they’ll catch you.

“God, I’m so sick and tired of Accounting. ___, I’m quitting school.” Xiaojun gravely tells you, his eyes not wavering from his computer screen.

“Shut up and do your homework, Jun.” You mumble, your eyes not leaving your own computer screen as you type up your Ethics essay. Three weeks into school and you’re already fully emerged in your classes. The newness of college has faded and now it’s time to start the next four years of studying endlessly for the future.

“Are you guys… okay? You haven’t moved over there in a few hours.” Mark asks from the other side of the room where he’s doing his own homework. He eyes you and your best friend from where you’re sitting on his bed, “Are you even comfortable?”

You and Xiaojun are sharing a blanket, he’s leaning against his headboard and you’re leaning against the wall. Your legs are thrown over his and several textbooks are scattered over the blanket. You’re not even sure which of these books are yours or his, or which papers laying in messy stacks belong to who.

“Yeah, I think we’re okay. We’ve been studying like this since high school.” Xiaojun answers, his fingers moving along his keyboard at the same time. You nod at Mark and he shakes his head, not understanding you two but accepting the answer.

You’re over at the guys’ dorm room enough that Mark is not surprised to see you here anymore, hanging out with Xiaojun or waiting for him to come back from class. It’s not that you don’t like your own dorm room, but it’s always so quiet in there since your roommate always studies at the library. You only hear her come into the room late at night when you’re on the verge of sleep, and when she leaves early in the morning before your alarm rings. Weekends are the same. You don’t really care, but you’ve started to hate the quiet, so you’re glad that Mark and Xiaojun don’t mind you chilling here.

“Argh,” Mark yawns and stretches after a few minutes, throwing his computer to the side and standing up, “I’m getting some snacks from the vending machine. You guys want anything?”

After you and Xiaojun answer with simultaneous shakes of your heads, which creeps Mark out, he leaves the room to get food. The room is silent for a few more moments until Xiaojun angles the lid of his laptop down to look at you.

“So… How’s the guy?”

“What guy?” You ask, still preoccupied with your essay.

“Your soulmate, ___, what other guy is there?” Xiaojun answers exasperatedly, “You never told me his name, so I don’t know what to call him. Actually, I haven’t heard you talk about him since the first day of classes. I was hoping you’d tell me what happened with him, but I guess I have to go digging up your dirt myself.” He rolls his eyes.

“His name is Haechan.” You answer, moving your computer to the side, “And I haven’t said anything to you about him because… I haven’t seen him in weeks.” You admit quietly.

“Huh? Didn’t you say you were meeting up so he could tell you why he’s sure you’re his soulmate?” You nod your head at the question, “So, what happened after that?”

“Well… I kinda, maybe, sort of…. have been avoiding him.” You answer quietly, stealing a glance at your best friend to see him staring at you blankly. When he sighs and reaches for his pillow, your eyes widen and you hold up your hands in front of you, spewing pleas and ‘wait’s. Xiaojun doesn’t care, though, flinging his pillow from behind him and into your face.

“Ow?” You whine after the pillow makes contact with your head and forces you to turn to face the other way, “Was that necessary?” You rub your nose, the part of your face that hurts worse from his attack. You’re used to Xiaojun doing this to you whenever you did something that both of you know you shouldn’t have so that you can “get some sense knocked into you, hopefully.”

“You’re so dumb. So, so dumb. Why would you avoid him.” It’s not a question, more of a confused statement to the general air. “You realize people would kill to meet their soulmate, right? People would do anything to be in your position, but you just hide away?”

“People would do anything to meet their soulmate, but people would also do anything to stay away from the person who shares their other mark.” You retaliate, “You don’t understand. To me, Haechan is both of those people.”

“There you go again, worrying about the future when you’re not even sure about what is going to happen. When will you stop worrying about something you can’t control and start thinking about today?” Xiaojun sounds so tired talking about this topic, a conversation you’ve had many times in your friendship. You wonder if he’s so tired of it, why he keeps bringing it up himself.

Before you can answer, the door to the room opens and Mark walks in, several snacks in his arms, “Hey, everyone, I hope it’s okay I brought a friend. He’s in the same major as me, just a year younger—”

“___?” Mark stops talking when his friend speaks, surprised that he already knows one of the people in the room. Your eyes widen, jaw slackening as you’re unable to even let out a peep from your mouth.

“You know each other?” Mark asks, looking between his two friends.

“Yeah, you could say I know my soulmate.” Donghyuck replies, making both Xiaojun and Mark’s eyes widen. You suddenly realize the situation you’re in: under a blanket with Xiaojun, your pajamas on, and your soulmate in front of you after you ghosted him for weeks. For the first time in a while, your eyes meet.

Donghyuck is mad. You can tell by how his fists are clenched and his jaw is tightened. Slowly getting out of the bed, you try to form some words, but Donghyuck snaps and walks over to you quickly. Grabbing your hand, he pulls you out of the room and down the hallway until you get to the lounge area. When you reach the empty room, that’s when you come to your senses.

“Donghyuck,” You pull your arm out of his, making him turn to face you, “I’m not even wearing shoes.” You hiss, pointing down to your feet as if to prove some point.

“What was all that?” He disregards your comment and hisses back at you, stepping closer so that you’re barely a few inches apart. “You were under a blanket. With some guy. Don’t you feel wrong doing that?” He asks, his hands now on his hips. You feel slightly like you’re being lectured to.

“That guy is my best friend.” You spit out.

“So, do you go around and do that to all of your guy friends?” Donghyuck chuckles vehemently, you can tell he’s angry and jealous, and that those emotions are clouding his brain at the moment. That doesn’t mean his words don’t hurt, though.

“Xiaojun and I have been best friends since we were in diapers. I’ve known you for three weeks, barely. I’m more comfortable around him than I am with you. You think just because I’m your soulmate, I’ll automatically trust you and we’ll all of a sudden be a happy couple? It doesn’t work like that, Donghyuck. I don’t even know you.” You can tell you hurt him by your last words because he turns silent, his shoulders slouching and his anger subsiding.

You can tell you hurt him, hard, because you feel the hurt, too.

It makes you realize how scary the bond between soulmates is. Even though you and Donghyuck haven’t spent that much time together to strengthen your bond, it’s still strong enough to allow you to feel his emotions. It makes you wonder if Donghyuck will be able to feel your pain in the future when he hurts you, like he’s destined to.

“Have you even tried to get to know me? You’ve been avoiding me ever since I took you to the pond.” At his comment, you fold your arms over your chest and look away, not ready to answer that question.

“I’m… just scared, is all.” You manage to reply. Although not the complete truth, it’s not a total lie. Donghyuck completely softens at your words, his close proximity to you feels less threatening and turns into something more gentle. His hand softly slips into yours, but this time with a lighter touch than before.

“You don’t have to be scared, not around me. I’m new to this too, so I don’t know how it all works yet, but this is something we can figure out together. That’s what we were fated to do.” Donghyuck can feel his words pulling you closer to him, he can feel you on the edge and he’s ready to catch you with his arms wide open.

But in the last second, you take a step back and slip your hand out of his, making his drop limply to his sides. You send him a look, something he can’t read, and then turn around and walk back to the dorm he pulled you out of.

He almost had you, almost.

When midterms come around, you use your upcoming tests and projects as a way to dive deep into your work so that you don’t have to think about Donghyuck. It’s a good plan overall, however your friends quickly start worrying for you and your health. Staying up late several nights in a row and not even being able to remember when the last time you ate is where Xiaojun pulled the plug on your bad studying habits. He confiscated your backpack and dropped you off in front of your dorm building with the promise that you’ll have all of your things back tomorrow morning only if you rest for tonight.

On your way to the elevator, you run into Yuqi, both of your facial expressions brightening when you recognize each other.

“Oh, ___, Hi!” You stop in the middle of the hallway to greet her, a smile pulling at your lips due to her bright hello. “How are you?”

“Midterms are kicking my ass, but other than that I’m fine.” She laughs at your answer, throwing her head back and letting her new short hair ruffle her shoulders.

“I wish I could tell you it gets better, but that would be a lie.” You nod your head in solemn understanding, “Listen, I can’t talk for long since I have a night class, but promise to text me when things slow down, yeah?”

“Of course, I promise.” You nod, just the thought of spending some time with a good friend already pushes away your stress. You wave bye to Yuqi as she begins to turn around but after a loud “oh!” leaves her lips, she turns back to face you.

“Your roommate, her name is Mya, right?” At her random question, you tilt your head in confusion, “She has really long, black hair and big glasses, right? I think I saw her when I was helping you move in?”

“Yeah, that’s her.” You nod, “Why?”

“She found her soulmate today.” You would’ve been more interested in the news if you knew Mya beyond when she goes to class and when she gets back to the dorm, but you feign surprise and nod your head absentmindedly.

“Lucas managed to get a video. It was a whole performance in the quad today, you’d think someone was getting married. I’ll send it to you later.” And with that, she says her last goodbye and runs off. You slowly turn and continue walking in a slow pace up to your dorm room, taking the stairs just so you can have some time to think and be away from people you could potentially run into if you use the elevator.

You’re genuinely happy for Mya, even if you barely know a single thing about her. However, something about a person close to you finding their soulmate makes you sad, considering the situation with your own soulmate. You can’t help but feel a little jealous that there are people who can meet their soulmate and fall into each other’s lives easily.

In times like these, you crave for Donghyuck.

You crave his touch and his words, you crave that comfortable feeling of belonging somewhere you get when he’s around. It’s insane that you haven’t spent much time together, yet you can yearn for someone to the extent that it hurts. It’s been like this ever since Donghyuck pulled you out of Xiaojun’s dorm and you rejected him.

Turning away from him all those weeks ago still haunts you. When you’re struggling to fall asleep, your mind goes to that night. When you let your mind wander, it wanders to that night. You constantly think about stepping away from him, but you’re not sure if you keep remembering the moment out of guilt or shame. One of the questions you keep asking yourself is if you did the right thing. You still do not have an answer.

When you walk into your dorm room, you kick off your shoes and turn on your bedside lamp, falling onto your bed with a deep sigh. You close your eyes for a second, but the peace and quiet of your room is ruined when your phone dings with a notification.

Yuqi’s message pops up, and when you swipe your phone open you can see she sent a video. You click on it and turn the volume up. This was no doubt taken earlier today in the quad, the sun shining and lots of professors and students walking in the background. Under the huge clock tower stand two people, one of them holding a large bouquet of roses. When the clock strikes noon, the bells on top of the tower begin to ring a familiar melody that can be heard all over your big campus. You see the exchange of the bouquet and the two people hug, and then applause rises from the people walking by. You smile when you hear Lucas’ whooping and hollering from behind the phone.

You’ve heard about the tradition of soulmates meeting under the clock tower at your university. Yuqi told you about it when she was giving you a tour around campus at the beginning of the semester. You remember her telling you that it’s really romantic, probably due to the history of so many people getting together in the exact same spot.

Although the idea is rather plain, you do feel your heart strings tug at the beautiful display, glad you could see something like this through a video. Then, as the camera gets closer to the couple, your smile fades and you pause the video, zooming in to get a better view. Mya is no doubt the one who received the flowers, but you can’t help but furrow your eyebrows as you recognize her soulmate.

It’s one of Donghyuck’s friends.

Not the quiet one with black hair that hangs around on the outside of their group, but the shorter one who seemed to simultaneously love and hate Donghyuck, or at least that��s what you gathered from seeing him a few times.

After the realization, you drop your phone to the side and stare up at your ceiling in defeat. Is this fate? If you didn’t meet Donghyuck on those steps two months ago, would you eventually meet him through your roommate and her soulmate? Or is this all just one big coincidence?

In this world, coincidences are harder to find than the work of fate.

Your train of thought is quickly cut off by the opening on the door, you quickly sit up to watch a huge red bouquet of flowers enter the room, followed by your roommate. You’ve only seen her face a few times this semester, but never have her features looked so bright and happy. She also looks startled when she notices you’re in the room, but her happiness doesn’t fade.

“Oh? You’re here?” She asks.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You both chuckle awkwardly, “Congrats, by the way. For finding your soulmate.” You motion to the flowers in her hand.

“Thank you! To be honest, Renjun wasn’t at all what I expected in a soulmate, but I think I love him already.” The sweetness drips from her eyes and words, and you nod and smile, remembering that Donghyuck’s friend’s name is Renjun. Her phone begins to ring and she shuffles the flowers in her hand to look at the screen, “Oh, it’s him.”

She answers the call, speaking quietly as she walks over to her side of the room. You weigh out the options of sneaking out of your dorm and finding a place to chill until your roommate falls asleep. You're not sure if you can talk to her about soulmate stuff and keep up this happy look on your face.

However, all thoughts of those plans leave your mind when Mya turns to you and holds out the phone, “It’s for you?” She says it more like a question, but you’re sure you’re the one who’s more confused.

“Hello?” You ask into the phone, awkwardly looking around the room.

“___? Oh, thank god. It’s Renjun, Haechan’s friend. I need your help.” He talks quickly and shallowly, like he’s out of breath and currently moving somewhere.

“How did you know I’m Mya’s roommate?” You ask, disregarding his cry for help.

“It’s a long story, I promise I’ll explain later, but can you please come to the auditorium? The back entrance.” You hear more voices in the background of the call, but you can’t make out what they're saying. One of them is definitely Donghyuck.

“What’s going on?” At the sound of your soulmate’s unique tenor, you suddenly become more aware of what might be happening. Is Donghyuck safe? Did he get in trouble?

“Donghyuck drank too much and he won’t go home, he keeps asking for you.” At that, you hand the phone back to Mya, who takes it from you with an unsure look. By the time Mya says her worried goodbyes and hangs up, she turns back to an empty dorm room, your phone snatched from your bed and your scattered shoes gone.

You must’ve made it to the auditorium in record time, not even the climb up the 109 steps could slow you down. When you reach the auditorium, you can hear Donghyuck and his friends conversing loudly and you follow their voices, which eventually leads you to the dingy backside of the auditorium. Donghyuck is sitting on the ground with the hood of his coat pulled up and covering his eye sight, arms crossed over his chest and his lips in a pout. His two friends, Renjun and the black-haired kid, stand above him. The quiet one is shivering in his spot while Renjun practically yells at Donghyuck on the ground, who doesn’t seem to be moving any time soon.

“Hi, ___.” The quiet one notices you first and then all three guys turn to look at you.

“___…” Donghyuck whines out your name and tries to stand up but Renjun gently pushes him back down.

“What happened?” You ask, sniffing your nose when the harsh, cold air nips at it.

“He said he wanted to unwind before his midterms tomorrow but then he went out and had some drinks, a few too many as you can see.” Renjun explains, “We followed him here, he said he won’t go anywhere unless it’s with you.”

“It’s strange. Haechan is a good drinker, I didn’t think he would get drunk so quickly… Oh, I’m Jaemin, by the way.” He introduces himself with a bright smile, as if you weren’t just discussing the drunken state of his friend.

“I’m Renjun, I called you earlier. I promise I have a good explanation for how I know you’re Mya’s roommate, I just don’t think right now is the best time to talk about it.” Renjun explains, his hands pointing towards Donghyuck.

“Right, about him… I think you guys should leave.” Both sober men widen their eyes, looking at each other and then back at you.

“Are you sure you want to handle this yourself? He looks small, but Haechan is kind of heavy.” Jaemin warns.

“Hey!” Donghyuck speaks up, but even his verbalization sounds slurred. When he points an accusing finger at Jaemin, he sways and misses Jaemin’s figure by a whole foot, “Don’t say that kind of stuff to my girlfriend.”

At his use of the word, Jaemin and Renjun stand straight with awkwardness and you sigh, white puffs of air leaving your mouth, “Yeah, you guys should go.”

Renjun and Jaemin give you an unsure look, but turn around and leave the area anyway. Renjun sends one last look over his shoulder with a wave of his hand. You look at Donghyuck after they turn the corner, kicking his shoe gently.

“Hey, get up. How much did you drink?” You’re not actually curious about how much alcohol he consumed, you just want to know if he can even respond to simple questions.

“Babe!” He exclaims when he looks up, “Oh, not much. I could go for another round right now, actually.” His words slur together and he sways in his sitting position against the brick wall of the auditorium.

“You’re not going for another round, you’re going home. C’mon.” You grab onto the sleeve of his puffer jacket, pulling him up so that he’s standing. He immediately falls onto you, his arms around your waist and his legs spread wide so that his head is hidden in your neck.

“Hyuck, you have to walk. Get up.” You pull him up once again, putting one of his arms around your shoulders and giving him more support around his waist. Slowly, you begin to walk away from the auditorium with Donghyuck’s drunk mumbling filling the cool air. His legs barely work underneath him, and he turns his head and leans into your ear every once in a while to sing some random lyric that pops into his mind at that second, like a small concert that he allows only you to hear.

Once you reach the top of the staircase, you stop and take a long look down to the bottom, “Why did you have to come all the way up here? How are we getting down the stairs?” If you start to climb down, Donghyuck could fall and hurt himself. You’re not that strong to begin with and your shoulders are already feeling sore from carrying most of Donghyuck’s weight.

“We can ride this.” He giggles and breaks away from you, one of his legs swinging over the handrail so that he’s straddling it.

“No, no, no.” You pull him off, but his shoe gets caught against the rail and he comes falling down onto you, both of you landing on the top step of the staircase. You wince in pain at how your back hits the concrete, but you don’t think about it much as you push Donghyuck off of you and into the space next to you on the top stair.

“Oh, no. Are we stuck up here?” He asks as you brush your hands together to get rid of the little pieces of concrete in your skin.

“Yes, and it’s all your fault. What are you gonna do about it?” You reply, so sarcastically that even Donghyuck’s drunk brain registers the joke. Your heart almost leaps out of your throat when he grabs your hands and pulls you closer to him, gently picking out each little ball of cement in your palms.

“I’m sorry I keep hurting you.” He apologizes. This close, you can smell the alcohol in his breath, mixed with his shampoo and cologne. He smells warm in this cold weather, and you feel like falling into him and drinking up his scent, not even minding the alcohol stench.

“Keep hurting me?” You ask.

“Yeah, that must be why you don’t want to be with me. I have to be doing something wrong for you to hate me.” He sighs, sniffling and enclosing your hands in his, his glassy eyes looking up at you and his long hair hangs down over his forehead and tickles his eyelashes. “I’m a bad soulmate.”

The way he says it makes your heart break. It makes you feel regret 1000 times worse than what you’ve been feeling these past few weeks; as if all of the worry and sadness hit you all at once, you feel like crying.

Isn’t he supposed to be the one who hurts you? Why does it feel like you’re the only one doing the hurting?

“You’re not a bad soulmate,” It’s not Donghyuck’s fault that he got stuck with you, or that things will turn out the way that they’re destined to, “And I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t?” He looks up into the night sky and sways a bit as he thinks, “Then why won’t you be with me? Hm?” He tilts his head, his lips pouting as he thinks. You desperately want to find an answer that’ll soothe him, but nothing you can come up with will give you that result, the truth included.

“It’s complicated…” You trail off, and your answer makes Donghyuck snort.

“How? I’m your soulmate, you’re mine. What else matters?” He laughs incredulously.

“What if you’re not just my soulmate?” You ask him, surprising yourself with how easily you can ask the question, probably because the influence of alcohol over him has you more at ease, “What if something happens in the future? I’m just… looking out for me, and for you.” You explain, trying to sound as vague as possible.

When you glance at Donghyuck, he looks dead serious. You think that maybe he has suddenly sobered up with how deep and calculating his eyes look. One of his hands tighten around yours while the other slowly raises to your hair, pacing himself along the way, and pausing before he touches you. When you don’t stop him, he gently caresses your hair and moves it away from your face, his nimble fingers sliding to your jaw. He moves your face so that your eyes meet his.

“I know I’m drunk, but I can make this promise again when I’m sober. I’ll make this promise every single day for the rest of my life, only if it means you can be there with me to fulfill it.” The severeness in his tone is like a wake up call about how serious this is for him.

“What promise?” You whisper back.

“It’s not just a ‘you’ or just a ‘me’ now. It’s an ‘us.’ And I will do everything I can to not hurt us.”

He says it with so much conviction that you somehow believe him. You finally fall into him and rest your tired head on his shoulder as he welcomes you into his warm arms. Maybe it’s foolish of you to think you two can go against fate’s words, but with him by your side, you feel like you can conquer the whole universe.

“Stop smiling like that, you’re making it very obvious that you got laid for the first time.” Donghyuck peers over his laptop screen to Renjun, where he has had a permanent smile on his face ever since he, Donghyuck, and Jaemin met up today to study in the lounge center of their dorm building.

“You know, Haechan, I’m not even mad at that. It’s more than what I can say to you.” Renjun tries to hide his widening smile while looking down at his own laptop, but that paired with Jaemin’s quiet laughter leaves Donghyuck bitter. “Didn’t you and ___ make up?” Renjun asks.

“They were fighting? I thought they just weren’t talking to each other?” Jaemin asks.

“Isn’t that fighting?”

“Kids.” Haechan cuts them off, “Not that it’s any of your business, but we were not fighting and we did make up.”

“That makes no sense.” Jaemin mutters and squints his eyes at Donghyuck.

“I’m older than you.” Renjun retaliates, but Donghyuck pretends like he doesn’t hear.

“We’re just… taking it slow.” Donghyuck ends his explanation with a firm nod of his head, and Renjun shuts his laptop and turns to his friend.

“Can you take it slow during the Fair this weekend? I’m planning to go with Mya and accidentally bought two pairs of tickets. I’ll give you the other pair.” Renjun leans into his friend’s side and wiggles his eyebrows.

“At what cost?” Haechan leans in as well and raises an eyebrow.

“Help me with my English project.”

“No way,” Haechan leans back and focuses on his own laptop screen again, “I haven’t even started mine, I don’t have time to help you with yours.”

“Please,” Renjun draws out the word, grabbing Donghyuck’s sleeve and tugging at it so hard that he can’t properly type, “I suck at English, and unfortunately it’s the only thing that you’re better at than me.”

“The only thing?” Donghyuck glares at Renjun. “Now I’m definitely not helping you.” When Renjun whines at that Donghyuck gets a devilish idea, and it shows by the smirk on his face, “... Unless, you’d like to show us how you really need help.”

At Donghyuck’s proposition, he leans back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest while Jaemin mirrors his actions, his own goofy smile on his face as he waits for Renjun to either accept or deny the proposition, but he hopes he’ll accept it.

Renjun looks between his two friends and sighs, dropping his head down as he mentally prepares himself. When he lifts his head, he looks at Donghyuck with his lips pursed, his pointer finger over them and makes a “kyu” sound that is way higher than his original speaking voice. Jaemin and Haechan immediately burst into as quiet of laughter as they can, Jaemin reaching over the table to poke Renjun’s cheek at his cuteness.

“I never said to act cute, I just wanted you to say please again.” Donghyuck jokes through his snickering, and Renjun immediately stands up from his chair to take a fistful of Haechan’s jacket and pull back his other fist, all cuteness gone from his facial features in a split second.

“Okay, okay, sorry, sorry.” Haechan tries to pull away, his voice rising as Renjun holds onto his jacket tighter and threateningly leans in.

“Hey, quiet down.” Someone whisper-shouts from a few tables away, and it makes Renjun let go of Donghyuck and slowly sit back down. “This isn’t even a library, why are they shushing me.” He grumbles.

“You guys have fun on your date,” Jaemin sighs as he begins to put away his things, satisfied with the study session and with his friends' mischief, “I would go too, but I don’t feel like being a fifth wheel.”

Once your classes end on the day of the Fair, you and your roommate meet up with Donghyuck and Renjun outside of the Fair grounds. You and Donghyuck walk side by side, a bit behind the other couple as they lead the way, practically in their own little bubble. Your hands are shoved in your pockets to keep them from turning numb from the cold and you try to shove your head as far into your jacket as you can to keep your face and neck protected from the wind. Other than the chilly weather, it’s a perfect day for a Fair.

You don’t seem to notice Donghyuck’s predicament right beside you; he’s trying to find a way to hold your hand, but you don’t move them out of your pockets. Actually, Donghyuck is sure you’re doing this on purpose, since he has been trying to touch you the moment you met up with him tonight.

“So, what do you wanna ride first?” He asks you. After looking around the area, your eyes land on a tea cup ride, where the large cups move in circles and also spin in their spots.

“That.” You point to it. Before you can move, Donghyuck latches into your hand that was pointing into the air and pulls you to the ride, a smug smile on his face at how he succeeded in finally sharing some skin to skin contact.

The ride was, to say the least, nauseating. Not that it was disgusting, but Donghyuck wouldn’t stop spinning your individual cup around in fast circles, and you were so sure that you would fling off any second due to the strong velocity those tiny cups have when they go at full speed. However, walking off of the ride with wobbly legs and not being able to see straight was funnier than you thought it would be.

Donghyuck was actually still pretty dizzy when he tried to win a stuffed octopus for you with a dart game. However, he ended up losing $15 while trying to win the game, and you’re sure he would’ve spent more if you didn’t pull him away. After eating some good food and refilling your energy, the sun begins to set on the horizon in a colorful display of red, orange and pink, and people start to make their way to the ferris wheel.

“C’mon,” You hear Mya say from behind you, “We need to get in line first or else we’ll be waiting for half of the night.” She pulls Renjun by his sleeve and passes you and Donghyuck, practically running to the end of the growing line for the Ferris Wheel. When you see where she’s running to, you stop in your tracks which in turn makes Donghyuck stop. Your intertwined fingers pull you back to each other as he looks at you with a puzzled look.

“I’m… not good with heights.” You confess and look towards the top of the ferris wheel, shivering just at the thought of going that far up into the sky in a metal contraption, “Or small spaces…” You add on.

“That’s okay,” Donghyuck gently reassures, smiling lightly at your sudden timidness about your fears. Honestly, he’s just happy you now trust him a bit more to even tell him what you’re afraid of. “We don’t have to go. We can do something else.”

“Like what?” You ask. Donghyuck purses his lips and looks around, until a set of stairs on the edge of the fairgrounds catches his eye.

“I know a place where we can still get a good view of the sunset without going too far up.” He replies and tugs you along with him towards the set of stairs. They lead down to the park that’s nestled in the middle of your University, which eventually leads to a pedestrian bridge that crosses over a river that runs through your town.

The river isn’t that big, nor is the bridge, but it’s big enough to have your head tilting up in wonder as you gaze at the lights adorning the sides of it, lighting up not only the bridge itself by the sky as well. You’ve seen this bridge from your dorm room, but you’ve never once stood on it, and it looks remarkable from this close up.

Donghyuck continues to lead you over the pedestrian bridge onto the other side, where an outdoor museum that was constructed by art students a few years ago holds several different abstract paintings. His hand in yours, which has been it’s resting place all night, keeps yours warm. You try not to think about how your hands fit into each other like the gears of a hand-crafted watch. The lines on your palms connect with the lines on his; it’s painfully obvious he was made for you and you were made for him.

When you reach the end of the outdoor museum, you turn west and face the sunset just as it’s setting over the skyline. Even though some tall buildings obstruct the view, the colors of the sky stretch overhead and make both you and Donghyuck stand still and appreciate the artwork in the sky.

“You like these kinds of things, huh? Sunsets, and ponds, and that kind of stuff?” He suddenly asks, not talking his eyes off of the sky. You, however, turn to look at him. He has his eyes screwed as he tries to look at the sunset, obviously not liking the bright sunlight.

“You don’t?” You ask back.

“I think... there are more enjoyable things.” Donghyuck takes a while to make up his mind about what he wants, obviously trying not to make the things you enjoy sound bad to him.

“Then we should go.” You turn around, but he pulls you back to your original spot.

“We walked all this way, we’re watching this sunset even if my feet freeze to the ground.” He tightens his grip on your hand and speaks through his teeth, making you sputter out a laugh and hit his shoulder with your own lightly.

“Sometimes, I wonder why fate put us together.” You ask, watching as the sun moves bit by bit, leaving behind trails of light and the beginnings of stars and the vast universe on the other side of the sky. “We’re different. I don’t know about you, but you are not who I imagined my soulmate would be.” You speak truthfully.

Even though there are some strings attached to Donghyuck’s relationship with you, it didn’t stop you from thinking about what kind of person he’d be— what kind of person fate would pick to be your perfect fit. Maybe they would have some sort of major flaw, like an anger problem or a lack of common sense. Maybe they would be an alcoholic or someone who commits crimes.

When it came to your soulmate, you always thought of something bad considering that they were also going to hurt you in some way. You never thought that your soulmate would be someone as unique and fun as Donghyuck. Fate made it way too easy to be with him, and you’re not sure whether to feel bitter or thankful.

“Well,” He blows some air through his nose, “You’re exactly what I thought my soulmate would be like” Your heart jumps into your throat and beats irregularly when Donghyuck says that, struck with the feeling of surprise once again.

“Mark tells me you’re smart and get good grades, and I know it was you who ordered that soup for me the morning after you took me home when I got drunk. Not to mention, you went out when it was dark to take me home in the first place.” Donghyuck explains, his hand that’s still interlocked with yours waving around as he does so, “You’re willing to help others, you have a good head on your shoulders, and not to mention you guard your heart to the very end.”

“Guarding my heart… That’s an admirable quality? If I remember correctly, it caused you some pain in the past few months.” By now, the last rays of the sun are disappearing over the horizon and night begins to blanket the sky. You turn to your soulmate when he takes more than a moment to answer, watching the way his face reacts to the thoughts turning in his head.

“Yeah, it is a great quality. I think if you completely trusted me the moment you saw me on those stairs, we wouldn’t end up here now. You wouldn’t be the perfect fit for me if you loved me so easily.” He turns to you, a teasing smile playing on his lips. Your interlocked fingers are basically frozen together at this point and maybe your feet really have stuck to the ground, but his words warm you up from the inside out.

“I think I would’ve fallen in love with you even if we weren’t destined to be together.”

Somehow, he manages to remind you of one very important fact that you’ve set aside since the moment you met him. You’ve always put the fact that he’s supposed to hurt you first, and the fact that he’s your soulmate second. However, he is a human and so are you, and you’re both given the opportunity to love one another wholly and truly. People die to have this type of moment. People live their whole lives without experiencing this type of emotion.

It’s time to remember that Donghyuck is your soulmate, first and foremost. He is deserving of love, and you’re now willing to give it to him.

When you pull Donghyuck into you, he feels like it may be a hallucination. Surely your lips can’t be that close to his own. But when he smells the cinnamon on your lips from that churro you had and your fingers sliding up his arm to grip his jacket, he becomes scared that this might actually be a hallucination.

You slowly lean in, almost painfully slow, but Donghyuck doesn’t dare rush you. When your lips do meet, both of you feel complete. The feeling of finishing a lifetime’s worth of work with one gentle kiss is the most delicious feeling ever, different from anything that either of you have ever experienced.

It’s slow and careful, but passionate and full of true love. No matter what happens in the future, it will always be your memory to savor and remember for the rest of your lives.

“___!” You hear Mark’s voice from your right, turning your head quickly to see him stick his hand up in the air and begin to make his way through the throngs of people between you two. You move towards him, attempting to meet in the middle, but somehow he ends up behind you, and you laugh as you attempt to meet again.

“Hey, Mark,” You look over him, noting how well he manages to pull off the choir robe that everyone else seems to look like a sack of potatoes in, “I didn’t know your concerts could get this packed. You guys could start your own group and make it big.” You look around while adjusting the flowers in your hand so they don’t get squished against your chest.

“Nah, it’s mostly just families that come to these concerts. Since there are a lot of vocal majors, there are a lot of families that show up.” He explains.

“So, what does that make me?” You joke, but Mark doesn’t seem to get it and tilts his head to the side.

“You’re Donghyuck’s girlfriend. That makes you family, right?” At the mention of your relationship, you glance down at the flowers in your hand, the flowers that are meant for the aforementioned boy. You nod, mumbling something like a ‘I guess’ before Mark looks down at his watch and sucks a breath through his teeth.

“Okay, I have to go warm up. Make sure you get a seat in the middle, that’s where it sounds best.” He gives you a quick wave as he walks away, and you manage to send one back. Before you know it, the doors to the auditorium open and people flood in to grab the best seat they can.

You barely manage to snag a seat in the middle, an older lady to your right and a grandpa to your left who seem to be unrelated and didn’t mind you sitting between them. You shrug off your coat as you look around, feeling anxiety build up in your chest. You know you don’t have anything to be anxious for, so you deduct that it’s probably Donghyuck.

He invited you to the concert today. For him, it’s part of his final grade for his vocal class and for you, it’s a chance to see him sing on stage. Strangely, he has talked about how much he loves to perform but never wants to sing in front of you. When he told you he auditioned for a solo in one of the songs, and ended up getting the part, you knew you absolutely had to come today.

Pulling out your phone, you send Donghyuck a text saying that you’re seated and that you wish him to break a leg. You see the read receipt pop up next to your text, and although he doesn’t text anything back, the anxious feeling in your chest subsides and you smile to yourself.

“Those are pretty flowers.” Turning your head to the lady on your right, you glance down at the bouquet of black-eyed susans on your lap.

“Oh, thank you.” You put your phone on silent and slip it into your pocket.

“They’re my mom’s favorite.” Your attention turns to a kid who sits on the other side of the woman. He can’t be any older than ten, and his feet don’t touch the ground as he swings them back and forth and looks up at his mother.

“Oh?” You ask, turning back to the older woman, “Would you like some?”

The woman seems to be stunned by your question, obviously not expecting you to hand over flowers at such a comment from her son. She looks almost flustered as she shakes her head at you.

“No, it’s okay. I bet those are for someone special?” She asks while nodding towards the stage.

“They’re for my… boyfriend.” You mumble, still not used to the words leaving your tongue, even though it has been more than a few weeks now.

“Then you should save them for him.” She nods and you smile back.

“But I want one.” The woman’s son pouts, and the mother nudges her foot against his leg. You laugh a bit, using your right hand to hold down the bouquet and your left to pull out a flower. Carefully, you hand it over to the little boy and he grasps it, his pout turning into a smile while he sings a ‘thank you’ and counts the petals on the flower.

The woman gives you a nod, and you all turn to face forward where the students are beginning to walk onto the stage.

The concert went well; you weren’t familiar with any of the pieces of music the choir performed, and many of them were in different languages, but you still enjoyed the performance by the many music students from your university. You managed to catch sight of Donghyuck fairly quickly, and Mark was just a few rows behind him.

Donghyuck’s solo fit his voice perfectly. Maybe you’re biased, but you think no one would be able to match his tone and technique to fit the song as perfectly as he did. Since it was the first time you heard him sing, you were a bit taken back by how amazing his voice sounds and how much control he has of it. It didn’t look like he struggled to hit the notes, and he looked like he was in his element on stage.

After the concert, you wait on the staircase outside of the auditorium building where you agreed to meet up with Donghyuck. You roll on your feet, jumping up and down slightly to keep warm. You clutch the flowers to you, scared that the cold weather might cause them to bend and begin to wilt quicker.

“Oh, it’s the flower lady!” You hear a familiar voice call out, and you turn your head to see the little boy and his mom from earlier… walking with Donghyuck? He has his choir robe hanging from one arm and his other hand intertwined with the little kid.

“Do you guys know each other?” Donghyuck asks, looking between the three of you with confusion.

“We happened to sit next to each other during the concert.” The woman explains, a grin growing on her face as she looks between you two. “This is your soulmate.” She doesn’t say it like a question, she says it plainly and nods her head in content.

“I’m sorry, did you already know who I was when we met?” You ask her.

“No, until I saw the mark on your left hand. I would recognize my own son’s mark anywhere.” Son? This is Donghyuck’s mother?! Your eyebrows must be up to your hairline and you think your mouth might be open, but you can only focus on remembering every little thing you said to her before the concert started to recall if you said anything dumb.

“Let me introduce you properly. This is ___, my soulmate and my girlfriend. ___, this is my mom, Sara, and my half-brother, Hyunjin.” Donghyuck gently takes your elbow and pulls you closer to him.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You politely greet them as if it’s the first time ever.

“Well, I like her. She gave me a flower.” Hyunjin exclaims.

“Back off, she’s mine.” Donghyuck jokes with the kid. “Thank you guys for coming today, by the way.” He continues, “I appreciate my favorite people being here for my first college performance.”

Donghyuck goes to hug his mom as she sets a kiss to his cheek that makes him cringe away slightly. However, you’re still struck to your spot from being included into Donghyuck’s group of favorite people. There’s a warm feeling in your chest at being included into something so special so early on in your relationship. There’s also some anxiety that comes with it, since promises that are made too early hurt the most, but you push the feeling away and soak in Donghyuck’s unconditional love.

After you all bid farewell to each other, and Sara and Hyunjin leave, you turn to Donghyuck with a deadpan expression, “You didn’t tell me I’d be meeting your family today.”

“Would you believe me when I say that I forgot they were coming?” He asks and you roll your eyes, not believing his words at all.

“These are for you.” You push the flowers into his chest and dig your hands into your pockets so that they can finally get warm, “Your solo was… interesting to listen to.” You say with annoyance dripping from every word.

“Thank you,” He replies cutely, not affected by your irritation. You roll your eyes again, but a smile tugs at your lips as well. “What kind of flowers are these? I don’t think I’ve ever seen them?” He asks while digging his nose into the bouquet.

“Black-eyed susans.” You reply, and Donghyuck gives you a weird look.

“That’s such a random flower.”

“They attract dragonflies.” You explain, nudging his side with your elbow. When you glance over to him, he has a smile playing on his lips.

“Should I be giving these to you, then?” He hands them over, but you push them back at him.

“No way. I’m already attracted to you.” You state, turning around to walk back down the staircase. When you don’t hear any footsteps following you, you turn around to find Donghyuck kneeling over with the flowers clutched close to him.

“Are you okay?” Alarm rises in your chest, especially when he shakes his head at your question.

“No, you just made my heart beat really fast and I’m afraid I’m gonna have a heart attack.” You would roll your eyes again, but you’re afraid they might roll out of your head at this point. You climb back up the stairs and yank on his sleeve jacket to make him walk alongside you.

“___, feel my heart. I swear it’s going to beat out of my chest.”

“Shut up, Donghyuck.”

“No, seriously, I think we should go to the hospital.”

“Shut up.”

In the morning, Donghyuck loves to wake up next to you. He has always been a spread-out type of sleeper; arms to the side, legs open, laying diagonally across the bed. Once you two moved out of your dorms and moved into an apartment together during your second year of college, Donghyuck’s way of sleeping changed dramatically.

Now, he can’t help but snuggle in, wrap his arms around you, tangle his legs in with yours, and do everything he can to sleep as close as he can to you. Maybe that’s why he suddenly woke up. The absence of you next to him made him shuffle awake, missing the frame of your body next to his like how it usually fits.

He groggily opens his eyes and immediately shivers, catching the open windows in the bedroom letting in fresh, cool, morning air. Donghyuck shivers once again, blindly reaching for the blanket and wrapping it around his head and shoulders, then making his way out of the bedroom in search of you.

He checks the kitchen, but you’re not there. Then he goes to the living room, and he sees your figure outside on the balcony, the curtains that are supposed to be hanging up in your bedroom moving with the wind as they hang next to you. He tightens the blanket around him and opens the glass door. Even though you definitely heard him come outside, you don’t turn around. You have a cup of something warm next to you and you’re leaning against the balcony while staring out into the city skyline, watching the sun rise into the sky to welcome the new day.

“Good morning.” Donghyuck mumbles as softly as he can. When you mumble back a reply, he opens the front of the blanket so he can swallow you into his embrace. His chin rests on your shoulder and tries to guess exactly what you’re looking at, but when he lifts his head to look at your face, your eyes are closed.

“So, do you want to tell me why our curtains are out here and not on our windows like they should be?” He rests his head against yours, also closing his eyes.

“I woke up and suddenly felt the urge to clean them, I don’t know.” You laugh a bit, making both of you move with the movement of your chest. Donghyuck smiles at your reason; one of the things he learned about you when you moved in together is that your work ethic comes in random bursts of energy, rather than carefully planned out schedules to follow. You always have a small goal for every day, and sometimes you don’t even know what it is until it randomly pops into your head. Although he doesn’t really understand how you’re able to work like that, he loves this little quirk anyway.

“Did I wake you up?” You whisper and nudge your head into Donghyuck’s, nuzzling back into him when a particularly strong gust of wind blows over the balcony.

“Not technically, no. You not being next to me woke me up.” He replies.

“Well, I’m here now. How about we sleep some more?” You ask, leaning back against him and looking at his face.

“Best thing I’ve heard today.” He sighs. Without letting you out of his blanket trap, he walks you both back into the apartment and into your bedroom, both of you beginning to giggle at one point when you almost trip over the blanket and crash into the ground.

Thankfully, you both made it back safely to the bed, falling into the soft mattress. Immediately, Donghyuck gathers you in his arms and cuddles you to him, almost like he’s latching onto you. You wrap your arms around him slowly and lean into his shoulder, placing a kiss against his collarbone. You were going to stop there, but when he lets out a whimper at the small press of your lips to his skin, you continue moving up his neck.

When you reach the space underneath his ear, he twitches at how you suck on the sensitive skin, not expecting you to pay closer attention there. His hand slides over your back, between your shoulder blades, and back down, pressing you to him as he caresses you and silently hopes you don’t stop what you’ve started.

You don’t seem to have any intention to do that when you lean back, looking up at Donghyuck’s big, round eyes as they stare down hazily at you and quickly connecting your lips. He kisses back slowly, as if taking his sweet, sweet time in loving you.

“I thought we were supposed to sleep?” You ask between kisses.

“We can sleep later…” He trails off, grabbing your hand and pulling you on top of him so that you’re straddling his hips. “... If you’re really tired we don’t have to.” He suddenly pulls away, his hand comfortably resting over your waist.

“No way. It’s too late for that.” You answer, pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it to the other side of the bed. A chill runs through you at the cold temperature in the room, goosebumps forming over your arms and your nipples hardening. Donghyuck wraps his arms around your middle and presses a kiss in the valley of your chest, moving over until he reaches your left nipple and taking it into his mouth.

Biting your lip, your hands find his hair and tug on the long strands. Donghyuck’s hands squeeze your sides and his fingers draw random, little lines over your bare skin as he sucks and plays with your nipples, switching between each one.

“Hyuck…” You whine, giving a particularly sharp tug to his hair when he bites down onto your right nipple. “Please…” You trail off.

“Hmm? Please what? What do you want.” He leans back and looks up at you. You comb your fingers through his hair, pushing it back away from his face and behind his ears. His eyes are clouded and hooded over by the thoughts of you that are speeding through his mind.

“Please, make love to me.” You say it shyly, your eyes looking over his face but not meeting his own. He can’t help but smile at your timidness. You act like it’s the first time those words came out of your mouth. He can’t help but find it endearing how you ask him to make love to you every single time you find yourselves in this position.

“Of course, anything for you.” He connects your lips again, keeping the slow and steady pace from before. He shifts around as he moves his boxers away. Breaking the kiss, you move his hands away and pump his shaft, glancing up at him as he leans back with his weight on his hands and his head leaning back.

He lets out whines every time you twist your wrist, and you almost want to take a moment and stay this way, loving the sounds coming from Donghyuck’s mouth and how he looks as he pants beneath you. However, the tension growing between your legs makes you stop and sit up, pulling off your own pajama bottoms and underwear, throwing them somewhere along with your shirt.

Donghyuck grips your hips with one hand, the other pressing his middle finger to your slick folds, watching you squirm from above as he slides his finger through slowly.

“Just— Can you just do something already?” You almost whine out, grabbing onto his arm hard enough that you leave crescent moons in his skin.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure.” With your permission, Donghyuck positions himself at your entrance and slowly brings your hips down, watching your reaction throughout it all. The way your jaw slacks and drops open to the way you swallow when your hips meet with his, closing your eyes in pleasure at how he manages to fit inside you so perfectly. When everyone says your soulmate is made specifically for you, they really do mean in every way possible.

You sit like that for a moment, before opening your eyes and looking at your lover. He helps you move your hips up and back down, you let out a gsap at the sparks that fly up your spine. Your hips start to move in unison, yours grinding down and his moving up to meet yours in a steady rhythm, like a dance to music only you two can hear.

Your nails hurt when they move over his shoulders and chest, leaving temporary marks, but Donghyuck doesn’t mind. Actually, he loves it when you tug on his hair and scratch up his back, his whines turning into full out groans when you lean in and attach your lips to the side of his neck, pressing hot kisses down to his collarbone and biting down gently in the same place this whole situation started.

“H-Hyuck, I—” Before you know it, you’re so close to your orgasm, it’s basically right in front of you to reach out and accept.

“I know, baby, I know. You can come, I got you.” He answers back messily, using the last of his energy to keep your hips in place and drive himself into you. You let out a shriek at the sudden pleasure, only a few more deep thrusts into your hole and you’re falling over him as your orgasm spreads to every crevice of your body.

Donghyuck loves the way your muscles seize and flutter around him, making him pant and his thrusts become sloppy as he comes as well, his warm seed filling you up as he rides through his high. You both fall into the mattress below, you on top of Donghyuck, too tired to roll over and opting to just rest on his sweaty chest.

“I think that was way better than sleeping.” He says, his chest rumbling underneath you as he speaks.

“What a good way to tire ourselves out.” You yawn.

In the last few moments before your tired bodies fall asleep, you find Donghyuck’s hand and intertwine your fingers together, happily and contently falling asleep with the fresh air coming through the window and the sunlight now fully streaming into the room.

In the late summer before your and Donghyuck’s last year of university, you attend a wedding. Not just any wedding: Yuqi and Lucas’ wedding.

Although the ceremony is held outside, there’s a nice breeze that keeps the guests from getting too hot and sweaty in the summer sun. The whole wedding is held in a botanical garden and the place is decorated in white and purple, lilacs and daisies filling vases everywhere you go and freshening the air with their scent.

You and Donghyuck walk into the room inside the administrative building that’s designated for the bride. Yuqi is there, her face shining brightly with happiness and a glow that can’t be stolen from her today.

When you walk in, you let out a sound of delight at how pretty your college friend looks in her wedding dress, taking note of the chamomile flowers that adorn her hairpiece.

“Ah, I can’t believe you’re here.” She all but shrieks, embracing you tightly with her small bouquet still in her hands. After she gives Donghyuck a small, welcoming hug, she backs away to look at both of you.

“You look amazing today, I can’t believe you’re actually getting married. Congratulations.” You say sincerely.

“I can’t believe it either, actually. I feel like we’ve been planning this for forever, and now the day is finally here.” She recalls, a blissful look in her eyes even though you’re aware of how much stress she has had during the past few months over this one day.

“Are you nervous?” Donghyuck asks and you nudge his side and send him a look for asking a question like that.

“No, I’m not,” Yuqi laughs, “I feel one hundred percent happy. Like I’m starting the next part of my life with the one I love.”

“I’m glad you can spend the rest of your life with your soulmate, you’re definitely luckier than most.” You muse, and she suddenly softens her expression and takes your hand in hers, gently holding onto you.

“I’m not marrying my soulmate. I’m marrying the one I love. It just happens to be the same person.”

After bidding your farewells and good lucks, you and Donghyuck walk out of the room and head to where the ceremony will be held. He pulls out of sunglasses, propping them on the edge of his nose, and then grabbing your hand and strolling through the exhibits on the way to the ceremony grounds.

Yuqi’s words ring in your head throughout the peaceful walk, specifically how happy she looked to be marrying the one she loves. Somehow, you never thought about separating soulmate from lover; those two people have always been one in your head. You always thought that there can’t be a soulmate without a lover, and there can’t be a lover without a soulmate.

But the moment with Yuqi reminded you of the first time Donghyuck properly confessed to you, the words you can still hear floating through your head whenever your mind wanders off and thinks about him.

“I think I would’ve fallen in love with you even if we weren’t destined to be together.”

Maybe Donghyuck has been wiser than you this whole time. Not that you’d ever admit that to his face, unless you’d like to hear about it at least three times a week for the rest of your life.

Every memory— every year that has passed by with Donghyuck has only grown the idea of soulmate and lover further apart in your mind, and it took the matrimony of your close friends to realize it. You don’t think it’s a bad thing; in fact, you’re lucky that you can call your lover and your soulmate the same person.

You feel something tugging at your hand, and when you look over at your lover, he looks at you expectedly.

“Huh?” You say, dumbfounded since you’ve been in your own little world for who knows how long. Donghyuck laughs, bending over a bit at the funny, bewildered look on your face before straightening up and looking over to you again.

“I said, what colors should we do for our wedding? I personally think I look good in red, but I’m sure we can figure out something less contrasting.” He explains nonchalantly, you realize he’s kicking a random pebble around as you walk. Looking around, confused out of your mind, you turn back to him.

“Are we getting married?”

“Well, yeah,” He does something between a laugh and a scoff before leaning next to you, a serious look that permeates through the shade of his sunglasses, “You do want to marry me, right?”

Your brain is in a complete fritz. If you had a whole day to think about this you could maybe make up a sentence that resembles a sophisticated answer, but you can only shrug.

“Uh, yeah, I guess.”

“You guess?” Donghyuck stops walking, “I just asked you if you want to get married, and you reply with ‘uh, yeah, I guess.’” He mocks your tone and it makes you roll your eyes at him.

“This is the first time we’ve ever talked about this and I got nervous.” You explain, making him relax and stand in front of you with his hands leisurely resting in his pockets. “Of course, someday I would like to marry you. I guess you’re… tolerable.” Donghyuck pushes you away from him and quickly walks down the path, twice as fast as he was walking before. You laugh and follow him, running slightly to catch up.

“Excuse me, Miss, would you like to leave a wish for the happy couple?” A sudden voice stops you, making you turn back around. A man stands with a camera, looking at you expectedly.

“Uh, how?” You look from the camera and back up to him.

“I’ll take your picture. You can write a wish on it and hang it up over there.” He points to the dozens of polaroids already hung up a few feet away, random people posing in the photographs with different color writing on every picture.

“Let’s do it.” Donghyuck comes up behind you, no doubt catching the last part of what the photographer said and pushing you lightly over to where there’s better lighting while taking off his sunglasses and tucking them into his shirt. The photographer asks you to pose, and you and Donghyuck smile for the camera, your eyes slightly shut due to the sun beating down on top of you.

“Great, how about one more for yourselves?” The photographer asks as he waits for the photograph to develop and you agree. This time, Donghyuck wraps an arm around you and pulls you closer so that your back is against his chest. You feel him rest his cheek on your head and drape his other arm around your front. You grab onto his forearm, not knowing what to do with your hands, and then suddenly the picture is taken and the photographer hands over both of the developed photos.

You take the second picture out of Donghyuck’s hands, not being able to look away. The sun seems to hit both of you just right, and the slight candidness of the photo adds another layer of reality to the picture. Donghyuck has a small smile while his cheek is slightly squished against your head, but he still looks as handsome as ever.

“What wish should we leave them?” He asks, picking up a golden sharpie from the table nearby, somehow already having his sunglasses back on.

“Maybe just… Congratulations on getting married?” You suggest.

“And a million other people will have the same thing. We need to be memorable.” He stresses and taps the end of the sharpie against his head. “What do you wish for Lucas and Yuqi?”

“I wish…” You think about it for a moment, “For them to have a lifetime of memories that they can share until the very end.” You nod.

“Oh?” Donghyuck looks at you, “When did you become a poet?” He asks as he writes that down at the bottom of the first picture.

“I’ve always been like this. I’m glad you just now figured it out.” You reply sarcastically, to which Donghyuck replies back with his own sarcastic laugh. He hangs up your picture close to where Mark and Xiaojun hung up their’s, and then turns back around.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road.” He pushes up his sunglasses with his ring finger and thumb, walking with swagger towards the ceremony and grabbing your hand while he’s passing by.

“If you’re going to be like this at our wedding, maybe I’ll have to change my mind…”

For one today being one of the most awaited days of your life, it started out pretty regularly.

You wake up from the ringing of your alarm, get ready, and go to your classes for the day. You had breakfast before you left, and lunch right before your last class of the day. Even work was boring as usual, but nothing beat going to the store afterwards.

When you got to the aisle filled with shoes, you were first puzzled by how many options there are. So many colors and styles, you didn’t expect to be so overwhelmed and accidentally spent almost an hour just looking at every individual pair. This had to be perfect. This was going to be a memory that you thought about for the rest of your life.

You call Donghyuck when you approach your front door, he answers almost immediately.

“Hey, love, what’s up?” He yawns through the words, and you can’t help but smile as you look down at the bag in your hands.

“Oh, I was just wondering when you’ll be home.” You open the front door and shut it behind you, taking off your shoes.

“I’m right outside of our building. Did you just get home?” He asks, no doubt hearing the front door from your side of the line.

“I’ll talk to you when you get up here then, see you.” You send a kiss through the phone and abruptly end the call. If Donghyuck is right outside of the building he’ll be up to your apartment in just a few minutes.

You drop the rest of your things down at the front door and hurry into the kitchen, setting down the small white bag with a lace bow on top in the middle of the kitchen table, clearing the table of anything else. You slide into a seat at the table, fixing your clothes nervously as you hear the front door open. Not even a few seconds later, Donghyuck walks into the kitchen, his eyes moving from you to the white bag and back to you.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, dead serious. Your nerves and anxiety, and maybe even some fear, must be strong enough for him to feel. You shake your head and pat the chair next to you. Donghyuck takes a seat, he came through the door so quickly that he didn’t even take his shoes or his jacket off yet.

“Open the bag.” You can’t help the excited smile and small clap of your hands as he reaches out and holds the bag. He gives you a quizzical look, but you only nod to encourage him.

Donghyuck unties the lace ribbon, looking down into the bag for a few moments. You can’t read his face and you can’t feel any emotions from him, and your anxiety grows tenfold. He reaches in and pulls out the little shoes, a light blue color with white stitching. They’re so small, they can sit in Donghuck’s hand perfectly.

“What are these?” He asks, still looking at the shoes in his hand.

“Well, they’re shoes… For babies. For our baby.”

At your reply, he does nothing. He doesn’t react at all, which only worsens your nerves and makes your leg twitch up and down as you wait for him to say something. He swallows and sets the shoes on the table, still looking at then with a blank expression.

“You’re pregnant?”

“Yeah…” You reply, reaching out to put a hand over Donghyuck’s, “Say something.”

“I’m not sure what to say, this is very… sudden.” He tilts his head. Your stomach drops at the lack of emotion in his voice. You aren’t sure what you were expecting, but it was not this stoic expression in his face. Whatever traces of a smile that you had on your lips vanishes and you grip his hand tighter.

“I know this is not what we had planned. I know this is kind of… not good timing, since we’re still in school and not married, yet. But this is what fate had planned for us, I guess?” You’re not sure if you’re trying to console him or convince him, but the icky feeling in your stomach tells you Donghyuck’s reaction to the situation is not good.

“Yeah, fate did us real good.” Donghyuck replies sarcastically and you drop your hands from his, resting them in your lap. You can see the tears forming in his eyes even when he tries to look away from you, and you can feel the fear that’s boiling and overflowing inside him.

“I know you’re scared, I’m scared too. But we can get through this to—” You’re suddenly cut off by Donghyuck standing up abruptly.

“I’m not scared. I’m worried.” He rubs his face with his hands. “I’m worried that I won’t be able to support this kid. I’m worried I won’t be able to be here for you through it all. I’m so worried I’m going to end up like my father that I feel like it’s going to eat me alive.” He runs his hands through his hair, pulling his head back as he looks at the ceiling and paces around the kitchen.

“I never knew your father, but from what you told me, you’re nothing like him.” You stand up too, your legs feeling like jello.

“No, you don’t understand. What if I say something wrong and ruin this kid’s life like my father did to me? What if I can’t find a job after we graduate? Are you going to support all three of us? I can’t let you live like my mom did, it was too hard to watch back then and it’ll be even harder to watch now.” He suddenly stops, not giving you a chance to speak as he looks from you, to the little shoes, and back to you. “I can’t.”

“You… can’t what?” There’s panic rising in your voice as he shakes his head and backs away.

“I can’t be here, not around you or this baby. I won’t be a good father.” He turns and walks out of the kitchen, leaving you standing dumbfounded with tears brimming in your eyes. You move to the front door, watching at Donghyuck’s shaking hands pick up his keys and wallet.

“Are you leaving me? Right now?” He doesn’t look at you and he doesn’t answer, opening the door, “Wait!” You cry out. He stops, his shoulders tense and his hand clenching the doorknob.

“What about that promise you made me? Huh? You said that it’s not just a ‘you’ or a ‘me’ now. It’s an ‘us.’ You said you’ll do everything you can to not hurt us.” You ask, recalling the promise Donghyuck made back when you two were young college students, and a promise he has repeated and vowed to you over and over again every time your relationship got into a rough patch.

“I think… that what I’m doing is what’s best for us. It’ll be better if I wasn’t here. ___...” He looks back at your teary eyed figure with one last look of regret, “I love you. I’m so sorry.” And with that, he closes the door, leaving you all alone in your cold and dark apartment.

You jumped off of the bridge. You jumped off a while ago, actually, but the fall took longer than you expected. You thought Donghyuck would be there to catch you at the bottom, but he’s nowhere to be seen now. The fall was peaceful and enjoyable, a soft limbo between making the hardest decision in your life and the ultimate consequence of that decision. The fall was long and made you feel faux comfort, so when you reached the very end, it ended up hurting a lot worse. You knew jumping off of a bridge would kill you, so why did you jump?

You’re not sure how long you stand by the front door, but it’s long enough that the sun sets outside and the room turns dark. You stare at the door, waiting for Donghyuck to come back. You wait for the door to open and for him to run through, hugging you and whispering that he’ll be here for you. You can only walk up to the door and slide down onto your knees, your forehead pressed against the cool wood as you wait.

Tears run down your cheeks silently, your eyes red and your head hurts. You keep your forehead pressed against the door for the whole night, waiting for him to come back. You wait, and wait, and wait. Donghyuck never comes back.

Your heart rips open from pain, it feels like it’s bleeding onto the floor in front of you. Your mind is numb from any other emotion, your body is cold from sitting on the floor, but you can’t get yourself to stand up. That’s when you realize, this is it. This is how Donghyuck hurts you.

What a sick and twisted way for fate to finally serve up her plan. You almost forgot who Donghyuck is supposed to be; the one who loves you, and the one who hurts you the most.

— read epilogue here

2K notes · View notes

jkstompers · 3 years ago

Text

a royal engagement | jjk

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader

summary: the rough ground against his clothed knee doesn’t matter anymore when he sees the sweetest smile on your face. everything is perfect.

genre: arranged marriage but they wanna do it right!, best friends to lovers, royalty!au, FLUFF, crown princess!oc, prince!jk, surprises!, jk believes in soulmates confirmed, oc is so in love, perhaps jk flexes how rich he is in this ~(˘▾˘~)

warnings: mentions of sex, sexual tension, more talk of exes (both jk and oc’s), they both talk about losing their virginity, mild jealousy, mentions of menstrual cycles, a little bit of lip locking action

word count: 11.1k

author’s note: ♡ happy jungkook day! ♡ this chapter spans over a week and a half-ish! also i made a little oopsies in the last chapter when i said that oc had only been back in raemor for a week… it’s actually been a month since she’s left the city. i’m sorry about that! i changed it on an arrangement already, but i just figured it out when i was editing this chapter. other than that, i’m so excited for this series and i hope u all enjoy!! pls lmk what u think! ღ'ᴗ'ღ

banner pic creds here! <3

jungkook had the utmost faith in you.

there was something in him that always knew that the love the two of you had ran way deeper than a friendship— probably more than a relationship too. it was something like a soul tie. something the stars created before the earth was ever created. two beings that were always meant to be together, in every universe, in every time before and after this. jungkook held his hope in that. his trust that the love the two of you forged was strong enough to pull you out of your room and into his arms before the plane took off.

the war between your head and your heart ended in a stalemate. you were fighting against something that you knew in your heart you wanted. your brain couldn’t make any more excuses to go against it when jungkook laid his heart out on the floor for you. you’d already made your decision before you went to sleep�� before you even left jungkook’s grasp. but you were one for the dramatics.

the sound of the plane landing woke you, you were afraid you were too late. thinking that you slept in during a moment that could decide the rest of your life, you ran. bare feet smacking against the cold floor of the castle, before you eventually made it out to the garden and then the royal runway.

the sound of your voice that morning set it in stone. that jungkook will never love another the way he does you.

“jungkook!” you called out.

he was just about to board the plane for fenutar, jungkook and his advisors huddled into a circle to talk about customs and special etiquette since it’s been a while since he’s last visited. your shout interrupted the conversation. jungkook turned around immediately at the familiar voice.

the sight of you running through the cold, wet grass in your sleep wear with a winter coat and no shoes on. it makes his heart swell, with both love and worry. more so worry. “princess? what are you doing out here?! it’s freezing and you’re not even wearing the right clothes—”

you cut him off as you crash into his body for a tight hug. it felt right, it always did. “am i too late?” you ask, face snuggled into his warm chest.

he shakes his head, a little laugh accompanying the words. “you’re just in time.”

now, jungkook and you lay in your bed, staring up at the ceiling together. since seven in the morning, the two of you have just been talking about everything and nothing. mostly just appreciating each others presence. time passed quickly and it was almost time for everyone to start getting ready for breakfast. “so... how should we tell everyone? over breakfast?” you asked, pulling yourself on his chest and resting your cheek against his ribs.

he smiles at you. “sure, i heard they’re serving waffles, donuts— you know, sweet stuff.”

“and wouldn’t our news be so sweet?” you grinned. he laughs and you can feel his chest rise and fall under your head, the sound of his laughter just up against your ear. “should we go now?”

you move to get up, but jungkook stops you, placing a hand on your waist. “let’s stay here for a little bit longer.” he suggests, moving his hand up to run through your hair. “aren’t you tired from your dramatic show of affection this morning?” laughing as his fingers card through the strands of your hair. he combats your glare with a tender massage to your scalp. remembering how you’d always fall asleep whenever he did, and it worked. your eyelids fell and you melt against jungkook as he continues to rub your scalp gently.

love wasn’t scary. times like this, when it’s just you and jungkook; no expectations, no titles, no responsibilities. it’s just love. it wasn’t terrifying, it’s not painful. well, maybe it is sometimes. like how your heart beats out of your chest whenever jungkook looks at you, eyes glistening with admiration. like when you smile at jungkook and he feels like he could burst at any second just from the sight of you. love is hard to explain. love is whatever you make it out to be. and right now, love is in the curve of jungkook’s lips when he smiles at you. love is in the palm of your hand when you reach out to hold him.

the sound of the knocks on the door doesn’t register until the second round of taps. “princess, it is time for breakfast.” you hear from behind the door.

you sit up. “i’ll be right out!” trying to get out of bed but jungkook pulls you back.

“uh-uh,” he tsks. “you’re not dressed.” you furrow your eyebrows before you look down at what you’re wearing. a slip dress, the one you wore to sleep to be specific. “i won’t look, don’t worry.” he laughs, scooting himself up on your bed and covering his face with one of your pillows. he ignores how nice it smells, just like that shampoo he really likes. you bought it back in the city, raemor doesn’t have shampoos that smell like this.

he hears you rustle around in your closet before he hears a faint zip. “wait— jungkook, how does this look?”

the pillow is pulled away from his face and his eyes lay on you. with a colorful sundress draped on your body. it flows and compliments your skin beautifully. you’re beautiful. god, you’re gorgeous. asking jungkook for his opinion wouldn’t help, he’s biased. you’re pretty in his eyes no matter what you wear. “that— yeah, it’s— you look great.” he stumbles over his words.

“cat’s got your tongue?” you tease. in retaliation, jungkook ruffles up your hair a bit, making you groan and spend another five minutes in front of the mirror to fix it. meanwhile, jungkook pulls himself off the bed and straightens his outfit out, opting to leave his jacket off since it was toasty in the castle. he still looks proper and handsome with his white button up and dress pants on. for the last touch, you dig through your jewelry box, knowing that it has to be somewhere in there.

then there it was, at the bottom, tangled with a necklace from your mother, was the friendship bracelet jungkook gave you when you were twelve at the lantern festival. a dainty gold chain with a flower embellishment on it, signifying the promise the two of you made. he watches from afar when you put it on, trying to hide his surprise. “you still have it?”

you nod, “you don’t?”

“i do.” he assures. “i just didn’t think you’d remember it after all this time.”

you scoff playfully, walking towards him. “of course i remember,” linking your arm with his. “i remember everything.”

with that, the two of you step out of your room and down to the dining hall. they were expecting you, but not jungkook. the shock on everyone’s faces was evident. your parents, clementine, your ladies, venus, even blue. it was a good surprise though. both of your parents had to hide their big smiles behind their napkins. the staff kindly added another chair next to you for jungkook to sit down in. no one spoke up about it, if they wanted to ask, they kept their mouths shut. the two of you enjoy a delicious breakfast without any interference from any of the advisors.

but someone had to say it, and you were happy that it was going to be you.

you let out a cough before standing up, holding a glass of water and clinking your knife against it gently to grab everyone's attention. it only took a few seconds for all eyes to land on you. “jungkook and i have come to the conclusion that we will marry.” you announce.

the hall is overjoyed. cheers coming from your parents, smiles being sent your way from blue and your ladies. even the advisors, the most stern and inexpressive people you know (except for venus) crack a little smile at the news. “but—” you begin. silence quickly takes over the room. “only on jungkook and i’s terms.”

there is a bit of confusion amongst the crowd. so clementine is quick to ask, “and what are those terms, your highness?”

one. “jungkook and i will wed next year, when spring begins.”

two. “both of us will plan the wedding, with help of others, but the main parts will be orchestrated by the two of us.”

three. “there will be no talk of an heir until we are ready.”

“deal!” both yours and jungkook’s parents say as soon as you’re done talking.

“then it is settled! prince jungkook and princess ___ will wed next spring!” clementine announces to the hall and cheers erupt through the room once more.

jungkook stands and gives you a tight hug. the moment is all too perfect, the joyous chatter of everyone around you and the warm embrace of the one you love wrapped around you. it’s something you’ve dreamed of. “i won’t let you down, princess.” he promises you, in your ear, only for you to hear.

“i’ll be the best husband this world has ever seen.”

a good husband has to be honest.

jungkook has something to tell you, and he isn’t sure how to word it. he’s scared you’ll be turned off by it. it is a pretty serious topic, so he needs to say it, or else he would feel the guilt start to build in his stomach. then before he knows it, it’ll spill all out. so it’s better to nip the bud. get it done before it becomes a bigger problem.

the two of you were having a sleepover tonight. it’s the first one you guys had since you’ve been back. jungkook brought all the fancy snacks that his mother packed along with some drinks, while you had your contraband: face masks and matching pajamas for the both of you.

he looks funny with his peel off mask drying on his face. you told him not to make any facial expressions or else it wouldn’t work. jungkook’s been pulling a straight face for ten minutes while watching elle woods destroy chutney in the courtroom.

he couldn’t have chosen a worse time to speak up about it, but it’s been eating at him for long enough. “i have to tell you something.” he says out of nowhere. you look at him, trying not to react with your face. his serious tone makes you want to burst out into laughter, it was just so out of place.

but he looks somber, like how he looks when something’s bothering him. you swallow the urge to laugh and just nod. “you can tell me while i peel this mask off your face, deal?” you ask, moving closer and picking at the edge of the mask.

you wait patiently until he spills whatever he needs to say, but he looks a little distracted by the feeling of the face mask being peeled off. he’s already nervous, he tells himself not to get side tracked. so he just spits it out. “i’m not a virgin.”

well. that was one way to start a conversation.

you try not to show your shock, but your eyebrows were already raised and now your facemask is stuck to itself. “oh— oh my god, jungkook,” you laugh, covering your mouth. “do you want a high-five or something?” you can’t hold back the laughter anymore. you raise your hand up and wait for him to reciprocate.

if you were being honest, it did make you a little jealous. you wondered who he lost it to. it was probably jieun. did he love her? enough to want to lose his virtue to her? while the questions run through your mind, he returns the high-five, taking you out of the downward spiral of queries. you weren’t angry at him. there wasn’t an agreement between the two of you that you’d take each other’s virginities. jealousy is unforgiving, because you knew there was no reason to be mad but you still felt the stupid pang in your heart.

you finish taking his mask off, expertly in one piece. jungkook waits for you as you throw it in the trash. he’s still silent, not really knowing what else to say. he was waiting for an argument, in all honesty. but you’re smiling, seemingly unaffected by his confession. “do you wanna help me take off mine?” you ask him, sitting back on the bed, facing him.

he nods, picking at the edge and trying to do exactly what you did. “you’re not upset?” he asks, pulling the mask off of your face. maybe you were, but you weren’t going to tell him. it’s in the past, what matters is now, and he’s here with you now. you couldn’t be too mad.

maybe you should be honest too. you shake your head, “of course not, i’m not a virgin either.” this conversation only proves that there was no need to hide when it came to jungkook. you admired him for speaking up about it first too, even though you aren’t exactly sure why.

jungkook successfully took your mask off in one piece as well, discarding it into the trash can. you tell him that the two of you have to wash your faces to get the tiny pieces off and he follows you into the bathroom. responding with a, “really?” and a raise of his eyebrows.

you turn the water on and splash him a little bit. “are you trying to say i’m too ugly to get laid, jeon?!” you glare.

jungkook backtracks, “no— no! you’re pretty— really pretty— i just— i didn’t know what to say.”

you roll your eyes playfully. rinsing your face with water and making sure your face is entirely clean from the mask before stepping aside and drying your face off, allowing jungkook to have his turn. “who’d you lose it to?” you asked. despite probably already knowing the answer, you just had to make sure.

“uh—” he starts, looking at you through the mirror. his eyes flicker back down to the stream of water when he answers, “jieun.”

of course. you let out a little laugh, stepping closer and nudging his side with your elbow. “congratulations, dude.” at least he told you, at least he was honest. that’s all that matters. jealousy can play it’s part later. after the sleepover.

“what about you?” jungkook asks when he finishes drying his face off. he wants to know, but at the same time he doesn’t. curiosity gets the best of everyone.

“my ex-boyfriend,” you answer nonchalantly. “min yoongi.”

“boyfriend…” he exaggerates. pursing his lips and nodding, the same jealousy you felt earlier coursing through his veins now. “that’s nice— congratulations.” he says, copying what you said. an awkward silence comes between the two of you, in turn, making the two of you laugh out loud. clutching your stomach type of laugh.

“why did you bring it up in the first place?” you question. curious as to why he would need to speak up about his sexual past.

“well, i just wanted to tell you because— i don’t know— when it happened, you were the first one i wanted to tell, and i know it’s too much information but we always talked about stuff like this— like remember when you told me when you got your first period?” he begins to ramble again. a cute habit of his.

you cringe at the mention, but you remember it so well. jungkook was so worried for you, he did all the research he could on menstrual cycles; asked his parents about it, looked online, asked his advisors, and even the doctors that come around the palace for check-ups. with all the advice he got, he showed up in front of your door with a big basket of your favorite sweets, literally every menstrual product ever produced (he wasn’t sure which one you used so he brought all), and other random things like flowers, just to be extra nice. you ended up crying in his arms because of how lovely the gesture was. it showed what kind of person jungkook was. meticulous, caring, and just so sweet.

“you’re right.” the trip down memory lane was delightful, as it always is whenever it comes to him. “but what… about us?” you asked. the question seemed random, but whenever you travel down memory lane with jungkook, you’re always reminded of the feelings that you had and still do have for jungkook. being on this topic makes you wonder: did he bring this up because he wants to have sex and wants to be transparent about how many partners he’s had?

“what do you mean? what about us?” he asks. his eyebrows are furrowed and you can tell he doesn’t understand.

the question shouldn’t have made you hesitate the way you did, but now you’re trying to find the words to backtrack. “i— um,” your smile fades a little. expecting you and jungkook to jump into a relationship was unrealistic, let alone having sex. “nothing.” you shake your head.

jungkook can somehow read your mind. he probably just picked up on context clues. “if you’re thinking about— you know— us, having sex,” he starts. “we don’t have to do anything of that sort, if you don’t want to.”

the thought is something that’s lingered in your mind for a while. same for jungkook. but neither of you will admit that. so the conversation comes to an awkward halt. you blush. “right! yeah— sure, of course.” you nod. every synonym of ‘okay’ leaves your mouth. it makes jungkook laugh, starting a domino effect and making you laugh. soon enough, the conversation was pushed aside and the two of you focused on whatever movie netflix decided to autoplay. it wasn’t long before the buzz of the tv lulled the two of you to sleep.

“jungkook! save me!” you shout from the doors of his palace, spotting him talking to his father in the foyer. you just ran from your castle to his in hopes to outrun your chaser. jungkook’s head turns at the sound of your voice, your figure coming closer and closer.

“what? what is it?” quickly placing the papers in his hand onto the table, he rushes towards you. his face was riddled with worry as he watched you run towards him.

taking you into his arms, you hold him tightly. “venus won’t stop asking me what color the table cloths for the guests should be— please… spare me, my prince.” you fake sob into his chest.

he lets out a relieved laugh, the stress lifting away when he realized that you were just being bombarded with wedding questions again. “shouldn’t they be white?” he asks.

you look up at him in his embrace, chin against his chest, near his throat. “that’s what i said! then she started asking about the details of the cloth— like if we wanted it to be a certain type of thread, if we wanted a different colored detail woven through it— i just— why does it matter?!”

“it matters because it’s going to be the wedding of the century! now tell me, ___, white with gold detail or—” venus finally finds you after asking the guards where you went. she approaches you hurriedly and tries to shove the samples in your face, but you hide in jungkook’s chest, refusing to look at them.

“the gold detail is beautiful, venus, thank you.” jungkook answers for you. you relax against him once again. venus looks satisfied, putting her cloth samples back into her bag and walking away. with venus finally out of your hair, jungkook rubs your back gently. “wanna stay the night?” jungkook asks in your ear.

“depends.” you act like you think about it. pulling away from his embrace, looking at him with a playful glare. “do they still make those strawberry tarts i used to love?”

jungkook smiles. “i’ll ask them to bake you some right now.”

“deal.” you pinch his cheek. “hello, your majesty!” you greet his dad when you turn around. jungkook moves over to the side and tells one of his assistants to ask the kitchen to make your strawberry tarts.

jungkook’s dad gives you a bright smile. “good evening, princess.” even bowing slightly.

“you know you don’t need to do that, papa, it’s just me.” you smiled, giving him a curtsy back for the courtesy

“yes, yes, i know.” he laughs. “i’m just so glad to see you home.” opening his arms for a hug. which you move for immediately, hugging him tightly.

jungkook’s parents were always amazing to you. never making you feel unwelcome or uncomfortable. “i missed you as well, you and mama jeon always make me feel at home whenever i’m here.” you express your gratitude to him.

he holds one of your hands in his. “it is your second home, ___.”

“thank you,” you grinned. when you look down, his hands are holding an entire stack of papers. it must be something important, you excuse yourself so that they could finish their business. “i’ll see you later, papa! jungkook! i’ll be in your room!”

jungkook only gives you a thumbs up as he takes his place back next to his dad. the two of them watch as you skip your way up the stairs. your figure receding as you make it to his room when jungkook’s dad speaks up once more. “she is something else, son.” patting his back with a light laugh.

jungkook laughs too. a big smile on his face when he says, “in the best way possible.”

“agreed.” he replicates the same smile that’s on his son’s face. “i’m happy for you.”

when he looks down, his father holds out the papers to verify the marriage arrangement for him to sign. your family had already signed and his parents did too, a while ago. jungkook told them that he’ll only sign after you did. then, just after breakfast when the two of you announced your agreement to the arrangement, you signed happily. it’s a little late because jungkook’s been super busy, but now, with excitement in his heart for your future together, he scribbles his signature on the line. “thanks, dad.” he says as he hands the papers back to him.

they settle the rest of their business and finish signing some more papers. after about ten minutes, jungkook is finished with all the reading and signatures. he makes his way to the kitchen and the chefs hand him a platter of strawberry tarts on the cutest serving plate. white with little red hearts that match the strawberries. a detail that jungkook knows you’ll appreciate.

with two waters in his hand and the tarts in the other, he makes his way up the stairs. hilariously, a problem arises when jungkook needs to open the door to his room. he doesn’t wanna put the stuff down and he figures that you probably can’t hear him if he knocks because the volume of the tv is leaking through the door. in the corner of his eye, jungkook can see a guard crossing the hallway. “psst!” he calls out, hoping to get his attention. the guard passes by without a second thought. a few seconds pass and he can hear the guard take a couple steps back.

soon enough, the guard pops his head into the hallway. “everything alright, your highness?” he asks.

“yes, but— do you mind opening the door for me?” he laughs awkwardly. the guard nods and rushes over, turning the knob and sliding the door open. “thanks, man, have a good night.” he smiles at the guard.

“of course— you too, your highness.” he bows before leaving him be.

when he enters the room, you’re nowhere to be seen. the tv is on and playing some scary movie from what he can tell, the background music is eerie and quite frankly creeping him out. he sets down the waters first onto his bedside table and you come out of his bathroom at the perfect time. “there you are.” he sighs. “how are you just going to play a scary movie and then make me come into an empty room?!” he cries.

you roll your eyes playfully. “my apologies, prince, i didn’t hear you come in!” sporting a hoodie and a pair of boxers stolen from jungkook’s closet, you jump into his bed and eye the beautifully plated tarts in his grasp.

jungkook tries not to get distracted by the way you look right now. so cute in his clothes. he wonders if you caught the way that he looked you up and down. when he realizes that you’ve been staring at the tarts, he refocuses and picks up one of the pastries, holding it close to your mouth “your tarts, your majesty.” when you open to take a bite, he snatches it back quickly and takes a bite himself. his face contorted in pleasure, the treat was perfect amounts sweet and sour.

“jungkook,” you deadpanned. your straight face breaks into laughter not even a second later when he holds the bitten pastry back up to your mouth. “you literally ate half of it!”

“then eat the rest of it!” he shoots back with a laugh. you roll your eyes, taking the rest of the pastry into your mouth. in turn, your lips slightly graze against his fingers. it wasn’t helping that your eyes were looking directly into jungkook’s. it was quite obvious that there was some tension here.

neither of you knew how to address moments like this.

most of the time the two of you just act like it never happened. but they’ve just been happening a little too often these days. like that one time you and jungkook almost kissed after he helped you put on a necklace. that time you and jungkook were hiding from blue; he held his hand over your mouth and the other arm tightly around your waist so you wouldn’t move or make a noise. then now, your sex eyes peering directly into his as your lips graze his fingers. yeah… it was a hard thing to talk about.

jungkook is just as confused as you when it comes to whatever the two of you were. just best friends? engaged but friends? dating? no, that wouldn’t be right. jungkook should ask you to be his girlfriend, er— fiancee, right? just because the two of you are arranged to be married doesn’t mean the two of you go from best friends to a pair of lovers just like that, even with requited feelings.

communication wasn’t a hard thing for the two of you. being best friends for twenty years does that to you. fights, the silent treatment, and even that one period of time where you swore that you’d never talk to jungkook ever again; you guys have been through it all.

it’s just that— neither of you really know how to go about it. this conversation was awkward. maybe it’s just not time to talk about it yet, jungkook thought. you were so busy these days. your advisors would pull you away from him before he even got a word in.

then when you two do get the time to spend with each other, the both of you are usually exhausted from the days you’ve had. even though the wedding was an entire year away, there was way more planning than either of you expected. everyone wants it to be perfect. which is nice in hindsight, but it does get annoying sometimes. like how venus was hounding you earlier for the choice of table cloths.

so the two of you just ignore it for now. maybe when it becomes more of a problem, you’ll talk about it with each other. but for now, it’s just something neither of you are ready to face. you chew and swallow the rest of the tart while jungkook moves into the bathroom to get ready for bed. giving the both of you enough time to calm down and gather your thoughts.

when he comes back out, you’ve eaten at least three more strawberry tarts and started a new movie. another scary one. jungkook doesn’t understand how you can watch these kinds of things before you go to sleep, it’s like you’re immune to nightmares or something.

but you weren’t immune to feeling tired. just before jungkook joins you in bed, you let out a yawn before stretching your limbs a little bit.

“tired?” jungkook asks, pulling the comforter over his legs.

you nod, “a little.”

he smiles. “it’s late,” he nods to the clock on his night stand. one in the morning. “sleep, you did a lot of work today.”

“i know,” you groan. “just one more bite.” trying to fit an entire strawberry tart into your mouth was a bad decision. the pastry crumbled into your throat and had you choking for a minute.

jungkook comes to the rescue with your glass of water and a hand rubbing circles against your back. “alright, alright.” he laughs. “no more tarts— go to sleep, princess.”

when you’ve come down from your coughing fit, you nod before you tell him that you’re going to call seungyeon and jimin. “let me just update them about the wedding planning— they’re gonna laugh about everything, i just know it!”

“it’s supposed to be a secret, princess.” jungkook shakes his head, watching as your hands pull out your phone at lightning speed.

“oh… really?” you pause, “i’ve been telling them everything since we’ve started.” jungkook only laughs. he could never be mad at that, why wouldn’t you wanna share something like this with your friends?

“just make sure your advisors don’t find out, okay?” he holds his pinky up for a classic promise, which you reciprocate.

the next fifteen minutes or so, jungkook acts like he isn’t listening to your conversation as he immerses himself into the storyline of this movie, it was interesting but not as interesting as the way you tell them about the wedding. you sound so excited, telling seungyeon that you’re gonna have to go dress shopping soon and that you want her to be there and everything. it makes jungkook smile. it’s more back and forth between the two of you, seungyeon saying of course she’ll be there and you saying that she better because you’re sending a jet to her. it was quite funny.

then seungyeon’s voice rings over the line, updating you about how jimin’s prepping for his big dance recital on saturday and how much they miss you.

you wish you could go to support him. jimin’s been dancing for as long as he’s lived. he’s so passionate about it and you admire him for it. he talked your ear off about how excited he was about this performance. that the crowd is going to be the biggest he’s ever performed for and how scouts will be in the audience. you wished you could go.

the way your voice shakes isn’t something you can hide very well. over the phone it may pass off as a breath you took too long to breathe in, but in person, jungkook can hear the way that your voice gives way to the tears building in your eyes. “tell him i wish him the best of luck.”

“of course,” she answers. “oh! and i was able to take some pictures when we went into the city, you remember all those hole-in-the-wall spots, right? turns out they’re great for photography!”

not long after, you received an email notification. containing the pictures that seungyeon took and they were beautiful. the city's night lights make everything look so cool, like a movie.

you miss the city. you miss your friends.

“they’re gorgeous,” you tell her. scrolling through picture after picture. seungyeon rambles more about a new restaurant they found that she hopes to bring you (and jungkook) to when they have the chance. jungkook could see the way that your energy changed. you’re sad now. he can feel it. he knows you miss the city. the way you slowly scroll through the pictures, longing to be there instead of having to look at a picture of it through a screen.

the gears in his head turn. a plan has already been set into motion for a date between the two of you. yugyeom, taehyung, and eunwoo have all been trying to pitch in, give him ideas as to where to go, what to do. but jungkook thinks he knows exactly what to do. he wanted to do this right.

so that next morning, jungkook makes an important phone call after retrieving the phone number from namjoon.

“hello, jimin? this is jungkook…”

it’s already been a week and a half since you and jungkook agreed to an arranged marriage. you’ve only been able to see him five out of the twelve days. busy was an understatement. venus said there is too much to do and that even a year isn’t enough time to get everything done. it seems like an exaggeration, in your opinion. sure, a wedding was a lot of work, but did you really need to be there to confirm everything?

maybe venus will let you have a break one of these days. you don’t suspect it to be anytime soon. today, you were told to wake up early (six in the morning type of early) and get dressed. no one told you exactly why, but you listened and once you were ready, made your way to the briefing room.

when you push the big doors open, venus eyes you suspiciously. “princess, what are you doing here? we are not wedding planning today.”

you furrow your eyebrows. “then what are we doing?”

“you are going on a plane, something about a political appearance.” she winks. walking your way and weaving her arm through yours to lead you out.

“already? mother said appearances weren’t for another month!” you groaned.

“sorry, princess.” she laughs. “your bags are being packed as we speak, just go freshen up and we’ll meet jungkook and blue at the royal runway.”

“got it.” you assure her. ah, such a good kid. venus thinks. you don’t even question the random political appearance and just accept it at face value. she knows you’ll be surprised. you don’t even suspect a thing!

after maybe ten minutes, you walk with venus down to the runway and meet up with the boys. jungkook seems a little nervous. he’s doing that thing where he shifts his weight on his feet. “you okay?” you ask him.

“yeah! yeah— why wouldn’t i be?” jungkook answers. a smile that’s way too bright is displayed on his face. you suspect it’s just nerves for the speech he’s probably gonna have to do.

“if you’re nervous, just remember i’ll be right there next to you, yeah?” you assure him. gently taking his hand into yours.

jungkook is suddenly reminded why he shouldn’t be so damn nervous. because it’s you. he gets to be with you. to marry you. of course, he wants it to be perfect, that’s why he keeps going over everything in his head, making sure he’s got everything down. but it’s you. his best friend. when he looks at you, his nerves are at ease. that burning feeling in his chest dies down and his throat no longer feels like closing in on itself.

he lets out a breath. “ready?”

you nod, “where are we going anyway? venus never told me.” stepping up into the aircraft and taking your seat, jungkook and blue follow suit.

“i think we’re going to gotia, right, blue?” jungkook answers, turning his head to namjoon. his face directly telling him to go along with it.

“yes, your highness, gotia.” namjoon smiles brightly.

your eyebrows knit together. they’re acting weird again. “alright…” you say, suspicious of them already. “wake me up when we’re there.”

apparently, you were exhausted. you slept through the entire plane ride and it was a fifteen hour plane ride. namjoon said you did this the last time too. only waking up to eat and talk briefly before falling asleep again. it was a great time for namjoon and jungkook to gather blackmail photos for themselves as your sleeping faces are unbeatable. even when you land, you don’t wake up. jungkook isn’t gonna be the one to wake you up, so he gently lifts you up, bridal style. you don’t even bother opening your eyes, you just cuddle into his further. jungkook was always so warm, and so strong. he carries you into a car and lets you continue sleeping there, with your head on his shoulder.

after about twenty minutes of traffic, you finally decide to open your eyes. suddenly conscious of the way that jungkook’s hand is intertwined with yours. you don’t mind, his hand felt nice in yours. with sleep-riddled eyes, you look outside the window to see city infrastructure; which is not very common in gotia. gotia is a green mountain country, known particularly for their abundance of livestock and green grass.

you give them the benefit of doubt, perhaps you guys were just going somewhere in gotia that you’ve never been before. so you ask, “where exactly in gotia are we going?”

jungkook smiles. a very mischievous smile. “you’ll see when we get there, princess, don’t worry.”

hm, suspicious. this time you sit up, the seat belt digging into your belly when you push forward to lean against the front seat. “blue, where are we going?” you ask your trusty body guard.

“i am just following directions, your highness.” he tells you with a tight grin.

you were already suspicious during the plane ride, and now since neither jungkook or namjoon want to tell you where you’re going; you’re starting to put the pieces together. they’re gonna make you play that game where blue drops you and jungkook off in a random location and the two of you have to figure out where to go from there. and from your own experience: it sucks! so you scoff. “you guys are kidnapping me! hand me my phone, i am calling my father.” holding your hand out with your palm facing up. both of them laugh, jungkook places his hand on yours instead of giving you your phone.

“just wait a little longer, princess.” jungkook tells you as he intertwines your fingers together.

another few minutes and you’re still unsure of where you are, the dark tint of the windows is only adding onto the difficulty to spot the exact location. blue stops abruptly and turns to the two of you, “i was told to let you off here.” he says. the street is empty, but somewhat familiar. you weren’t able to get another look before jungkook covered your eyes.

“it’s a surprise, close your eyes.” he says. out of habit, you close your eyes, giving your trust to jungkook. jungkook steps out of the car first and then the door to the left of you opens. you keep your eyes closed and scoot out of the car with jungkooks’ help. he helps you out and onto the ground where he leads you somewhere onto the sidewalk.

“can i open my eyes now?” you ask, still squeezing your eyes shut.

“in a sec,” jungkook promises. bringing you a little further, you can hear him open a door and feel him lead you inside. “you can open your eyes now, we have to go up some stairs first.” he tells you.

when you open your eyes, you’re in a staircase with carpeted floors and metal railings. it looks fancy. the two of you make it up the stairs and you still can’t tell where the hell you are before jungkook tells you to close your eyes again. he opens another door and leads you out, leading you through a curtain you can feel. now you can hear some noise, quiet bickers of a crowd of people. it had to be hundreds of people out there.

you hear jungkook sit down beside you before he speaks up once more, “okay, open.”

scared, you only open your right eye just a peek. from the image, there’s an entire crowd below you. you’re in a theater of some sort. no, wait— it’s not just some theater, it’s the theater. the one that jimin’s performing at! that’s when your eyes shoot open. you’re back in the city, with jungkook by your side, about to watch your best friends’ performance.

“no way.” you spoke quietly, facing jungkook. he only smiles at you, holding your hand in his. “did you really do this for me?” the two of you sat in the highest box seat, jimin called them ‘the rich people seats.’ no one can really see you from here and you had one of the best views; it was perfect.

it was just so thoughtful. he must have noticed how homesick you were feeling, how much you yearned to see your friends again. this is the best gift you could have ever received. you’re not even sure what to say, and jungkook understands. he doesn’t expect any thank you’s or a major display of affection. he’s just happy that you’re happy.

when the lights dim and the music begins to play, you can’t help but feel the tears start to build in your eyes. “thank you, jungkook, so much.” you pull yourself close to him, laying your head on his shoulder.

“of course, princess.” he tells you, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you in closer. “anything for you.”

with that, a tear falls and the curtains are drawn. revealing jimin standing in position with a beautiful dark forest background, performing his black swan routine. one of his longest and most physically intensive choreography he’s ever made. but it’s so damn gorgeous. he performs flawlessly and receives a standing ovation. you couldn’t have been any happier for him.

during the extended applause, jungkook stands up pulls you along, through another carpeted hallway. “wait— where are we going?” you ask him. his other hand holds a bouquet that literally came out of nowhere. “and where did you get those flowers?!”

“we’re gonna see jimin!” he tells you as he maneuvers through the never ending hallways. “oh, and i hid these— so you could give them to jimin.”

the two of you stop just before another door, you pull him back gently. “what? people are going to see us, jungkook, we aren’t allowed to be outside of the kingdom without proper guards.”

“no one will see us, i promise, jimin will meet us here in this room.” he tells you. the both of you peek through the door window, it was an empty practice room. the door on the other side of the room opens and it’s the cue that it’s safe to come in. “ready?” he asks, holding the flowers out for you to take.

you start crying again, it was immediate. jungkook wipes the tears away quickly, “don’t cry, princess.” he places a sweet kiss on your forehead before he hands you the bouquet and opens the door for you.

then there in the middle of the room stands your best friend. his arms open for a hug and you run into them. crying even harder when you realize that jimin is crying too, you can hear the way he sniffles. “why are you crying?! you did amazing!” you sob.

“because you’re here and everything went perfectly— it’s just overwhelming.” he admits, pulling back from the hug. the two of you laugh at your crying faces.

“congratulations, jimin.” you tell him, holding out the flowers for him.

“thank you, ___.” he accepts them with a smile, wiping his tears and turning his attention to jungkook, who stands at the door as a lookout. “jungkook—! oh crap, wait— should i call him majesty or highness or something?” jimin’s quickly tries to correct himself, asking you for advice.

you can only laugh and shake your head. “you can just call him jungkook.”

“i was called?” jungkook stands just behind you, with a smile on his face.

“yeah, man— come here.” jimin embraces him in a hug and jungkook doesn’t object it.

rubbing his back, jungkook congratulates him as well. “you’re incredibly talented, jimin.” he smiles when he pulls away. “it’s great to finally meet you in person.”

“thank—”

“jimin! it’s curtain call!” a lady barges into the practice room. she stands speechless for a second, her eyes darting straight to jungkook. “wait, is that prince jungkook?!” all of you are wide eyed. jimin’s mouth is silently telling you two to ‘run!’ before you knew it, she was pulling out her phone, trying to take a picture.

jimin is quick to block the camera as he shouts. “go! hurry!” the two of you rush out of the door you came from. you and jungkook bolt back to the car, blue is a little startled when you both jump in, breathless.

“everything alrig—“

“drive!” you demanded.

“shit— alright!” blue complies and steps on the gas, getting you out of the parking spot behind the theater and now onto the streets of the city.

now that everyone’s calmed down. you just realized that you, again, have no idea where you were going. “now where are we off to? it’s about eleven o’clock, right?”

“go with the plan, blue.” jungkook tells him. with the creepy wording, you begin to feel more suspicion around the two of them. what more surprises could there be?

the three of you spent another fifteen or so minutes of driving, and quite frankly you were tired of looking for little landmarks to pinpoint where you were. just as you were about to ask again, blue stops the car and looks at jungkook.

“okay, another surprise— close your eyes.” jungkook says. you can’t help but admit this is kind of fun. sure, you were annoying the hell out of the boys for the past fifteen minutes asking when you were gonna get there and where you were going. but they love you either way.

you keep your eyes squeezed shut as jungkook helps you out of the car and onto another sidewalk. “just a little further.” he says, leading you closer to whatever it was. just before he speaks again, you hear a little jingle. “okay, open.”

when your eyes finally adjust to the city lights, you recognize the building entirely too well. a place that you lived for five years. “is this— are we— no way!” you stutter, purely out of surprise. you were sure that you weren’t going to see this place for at least another decade.

you stand there speechless, just like how you did at jimin’s recital, for a good minute or so. jungkook has to wave his hand in front of your face to break you out of the trance.

“so, are you gonna show me your apartment or not?” jungkook grins, holding up your cutely decorated keychain. you squeal in excitement as he hands you the keys and you drag him into the building. it’s only been about a month and a half since you’ve last seen it, but it feels so nostalgic. it feels special. you suspect it’s because of the man whose hand you’re holding right now.

up the elevator and to the left, the apartment labeled with a silver plated 101 beckons you inside. soon enough, you’re pulling jungkook through the door and giving him a detailed tour of your shoe closet that is right there when you walk in.

as the two of you walk around, it’s cleaner than you remember. venus must have gotten people to tidy the place up after you left. just as you finish the very short tour of your apartment, you remember that you’d left some things from jimin and seungyeon in your room. “make yourself at home, my prince, i’ll just be in my room, collecting some things.” you excuse yourself and let jungkook look around some more.

if jungkook were honest, he would have told you that he got a bit of whiplash from your tour. he was turning every two seconds because you were speaking so fast. you were just so excited, and jungkook couldn’t have been happier. everything was going exactly as planned. the clock was ticking and jungkook did have a schedule to be on, but there was nothing wrong with a little snooping around your apartment. he wanted to see the place that you called home for the past five years.

your couch looks cozy, blankets on one side with decorative pillows to adorn the piece of furniture. your coffee table is cute too. you’ve got good taste. everything just seems so you. so when jungkook turns toward the bookcase you mentioned earlier into your tour. it was crowded with books, photo albums, cd’s, and records. a specific photo album catches his eyes, a cute light blue album. on the spine it was labeled: ‘jjk’ and from what jungkook knows, it must be his initials.

it’s when he opens it is when he confirms. the album is full of pictures of the two of you when you were kids, at every festival, from infant to teens. flipping through the pages, both of your smiles never changed. over the years; in both of your eyes, the certain glimmer of love shines so brightly. he puts it back with a soft smile after he’s flipped through all the pages. another book catches his eyes, your favorite fairy tale story: hansel and gretel. while everyone made fun of your choice of story, jungkook thought it was cool. you were all about safety and stranger danger, therefore making hansel and gretel a good story for kids to read (in your opinion.) you always read it when you needed to make an important decision, you called it a comfort read. it helped you get into the right mindset, think about all the pros and especially the cons of the decision you were about to make.

jungkook was only going to look at it and flip through the pages mindlessly. but when he pulls it out of its place in the bookshelf, two envelopes fall out from between the pages. squatting down, he picks up the fallen pieces of paper and coincidentally, sees his name on one of the letters. the other is blank, just a plain envelope. if it was addressed to him, then it means it was meant for him, therefore, he could read it… right?

jungkook,

if you are reading this, then that means i’ve already left for the city.

first, i wanted to apologize: for everything. for not telling you that i would leave sooner, for leaving you, for not telling you how i felt.

i was scared terrified that i would ruin our friendship if i ever told you, but now, since i don’t know if i’ll ever come back. i need to get this off my chest.

i’ve wanted to tell you this for the longest time.

jeon jungkook, i am in love with you.

i’m sorry this is how you had to find out, i’m sorry i didn’t have the courage to tell you in person.

but i love you, and i think i always will.

i hope you will be happy, whoever you marry. i hope they love you the way you deserve.

i hope to be at your wedding when i hear the news.

i’m sorry again.

sincerely,

___

easily, his eyes gloss over. you’ve loved him all along. he should have known. how could he have not known? thoughts run through his mind at hundreds of miles an hour; what would have happened if you did give this to him when you left. he probably would have gotten on the next plane out and searched the city to find you. probably would have done the exact same thing he did recently, beg you to give the two of you a chance. he shakes his head, sliding the letter back into its envelope. reading the other letters wouldn’t hurt, right?

of course not, he tells himself. he was always so nosy. the blank envelope held multiple pieces of paper. most of them were unfinished confessions to him, smudged black ink with multiple sentences crossed off. from what he can count, you wanted to confess to him at least five times now.

jungkook isn’t sure how he feels, he just knows how in love he is. this feeling of being surrounded by warmth, it’s enough to make a tear slip out. he can’t help but smile either. this is the boost of confidence he needed for tonight. he was so nervous before, that everything would go terribly wrong, but now he’s just so… content, so happy. he wanted to hug you, kiss you, everything. so he puts the envelopes back into the book, places it back into the shelf and makes his way to your room. your body hovers over your vanity, digging through your jewelry box.

“my princess.” jungkook pouts even though you can’t see him. coming from behind, he hugs you tightly and rests his head against yours. he tries to hide the way that his tears began to tear up. you look up from your tangle of necklaces, turning and taking him into your arms.

“are you crying?” the single tear that rolls down his cheek grabs your attention. your hand immediately coming up to wipe it away. “what’s wrong? do you hate my little apartment that much?” you let out a laugh.

he laughs too, shaking his head with a smile. “your little apartment is perfect— i love it actually, i love you.”

“aw,” you mumble against his chest. “i love you too, even though you’re acting super weird.” the two of you stand there, swaying in a hug for a little longer.

“am not.” he rests his chin atop your head.

“whatever you say.” you hum, pulling him towards your prized possession— your queen sized bed. the two of you plop on top, your fluffy comforter proving to be one of the best purchases you have ever made in your entire life. the two of you lay there in silence for a little bit, you almost fall asleep due to how warm jungkook is.

“as much as i would love to cuddle and take a nap in your bed, we’re on a tight schedule— c’mon.” jungkook says as he stands from your bed, pulling you up.

“a schedule?” you quirk an eyebrow. “what else are we gonna do in the city? our faces are plastered all over the internet, not to mention you’re the most-thirsted-after prince in the entire world.” you ask as he tugs you through the hallway and back into the living room.

“can you show me the roof?” jungkook asks. a sly smile on his face, while you’re still completely clueless.

“of course!” you squeal, excited to show him the amazing view of the city the roof of your building has. the two of you exit your apartment and you pull him up another two flights of stairs. “usually it’s kind of dirty, so don’t mind the mess.” you warn before opening the heavy door.

but when you push it open, the roof is…clean. it’s decorated too. it’s not the same as you last saw it. “huh— would you look at that?” jungkook steps out onto the roof first, with his hands on his hips as he looks back at you. “it looks pretty clean— and look! it’s set up for dinner...?” he acts surprised. his eyebrows raised as the two of you walk towards the dinner table. he pulls out the chair for you to sit down and you can’t help but let out a little laugh.

“so this was your plan.” you snort. dinner was in the shape of cups of ice cream. it was adorable. “ice cream for dinner?”

jungkook nods, handing you a tiny spoon for the ice cream. “your favorite.”

he did all of this for me. you realize the effort. he must have gone through meticulous planning and conspiring all of this in secret. he’s good. really good. god, you could kiss him.

the two of you sit there in the ambiance of the late city night, eating ice cream and having a small conversation. whenever the conversation paused, you could hear some music playing quietly in the back.

jungkook really did deserve the mantle of prince charming. king of romance. ruler of your heart.

“do you hear that?” jungkook asks, holding a hand out next to his ear. a familiar tune playing from wherever the music was. standing up, he extends his grasp for you to take. “a dance, princess?”

“you know i have two left feet.” you try to decline him, remembering how taehyung teased you about the way that you tripped over his feet when the two of you danced at your welcome home party. but jungkook doesn’t mind. he loves dancing with you, always has. he loves the way that your feet crash into his, how focused you get when you try not to get the moves wrong. he wanted to waltz with you everywhere, even if you stood on his feet the entire time.

“just follow me, alright?” he smiles. giving in, you take his hand and the two of you make your way to the middle of the rooftop. the night sky bearing witness to one of the most romantic things you’ve ever received. you feel his hand wrap around your waist, guiding you to step where he does.

“sparks, huh?” you smile, finally putting a title on the song playing. “kind of a sad song to dance to.” following his moves, dancing does seem a little easier with jungkook there.

“i thought it was perfect.” he states, leading you in for a twirl and then back into his arms. “it explains exactly how i feel about you.

“yeah?” you look up to him. even in this faint lighting, the abandoned flickering light bulbs that hang from strings all across the rooftop from an old tenant party, he still shines so bright.

he nods. the two of you silently sway for another few beats of the song. you lay your head against his chest, the beat of his heart is as calming as the music in the back. maybe if you just leave your eyes closed, this moment could last forever.

meanwhile, jungkook is trying to amp himself up to get these words out. another confession and an important question sits heavy on his tongue. he knows you feel the same, knows that you’ll accept, but he’s still so nervous. what if you don’t say yes and he’s left there with his knee against the rough concrete floor? what if this was just too cheesy for you and you hate it?

jungkook tells himself there’s only one way to find out.

“i— can i tell you something?” he asks. you lift your head away and look in his eyes, they greet you with that sweet eye smile that hasn’t changed in all the days you’ve known him.

“of course.” you pull yourself back, holding his hands.

“when you were gone...i was always afraid that i was romanticizing you— i had nothing but our memories and the small talks we would have sometimes through our parents,” he admits. “i was scared that i was in love with the idea of you, and not… you— you know?”

his confession makes you stop in your tracks, clear disbelief on your face as you drop his hands from your grasp. “what?! jungkook— why are you telling me this now?” you groan, folding your arms over your chest. you move to grab your phone to find a way to reverse this. “you know what— it’s not too late to cancel the engagement and call up the king of fenutar— i’m sure they’ll forgive you— yeah, let’s give them a call—”

he pulls you back gently, “princess, relax.” he laughs. “i was just getting started.”

your gaze softens, letting him finish his point as he restarts the sway. your feet move with his, slowly to the beat of the song playing in the back. it’s changed to something calmer, from what you could hear, it sounds like cigarettes after sex.

“this past month, ever since you came back—” he starts up once more. you attention falling back onto him instead of the music in the back. “i don’t know what it is, but i think i was wrong.” he says. you gently furrow your eyebrows. confused as to what he means. jungkook brings his hand up to your face, cupping your jaw before raising his thumb to soothe the creases in your forehead.

relaxing your muscles under his touch, he lowers his hands back down to hold your hands. he says the next words, staring straight into your eyes. “i love you, i always want to be around you, i wonder if you are alright— if you’re sad, because i want to be there for you, i want to take care of you.” your hands are pulled close to him, enough for him to be able to gently press a kiss against your knuckles. “i want to be by your side, against foes seen and unseen.”

“so—“ he lets go of your hand to pull a tiny white box out from his pocket and gets on one knee. “will you marry me?”

the rough ground against his clothed knee doesn’t matter anymore when he sees the sweetest smile on your face. everything is perfect.

you let out a little laugh, your smile going from ear to ear. “yes! of course— yes, yes!” tears collect in your eyes quickly. holding your arms out for him, jungkook comes up and collects your embrace. a tear slips out and he can hear your sniffle. gently, he wipes the tear away, and the two of you stare at each other just long enough. long enough to understand that this was the time.

you both lean forward and finally, let your lips connect. a kiss seals the fate of both hearts involved.

dreaming of this moment ever since you were fifteen has given you quite high expectations for it, but jungkook always exceeds expectations. even when you think he couldn’t be anymore perfect, he always has something up his sleeve. it shows in the way his kiss is gentle, but so passionate. transferring his love to you in the most efficient way possible.

jungkook is in dreamland almost. wonders if this is what being on drugs is like. pure euphoria. knows that this is what love stories are based off of. pure adoration. fears what he’ll do if he won’t be able to kiss you. the beginning of an addiction. your lips, they take him prisoner.

slowly, the two of you pull away and stare at each other like love sick puppies. jungkook holds your face in his hand as you lean into his grasp. the sound of confetti poppers startle you, flinching at the noise before looking to see what happened. through the rain of confetti, you can see all of them. seungyeon, jimin, blue, taehyung, eunwoo, and yugyeom. you didn’t think it could get any better. you were so happy.

“congratulations, your majesties.” blue moves forward after the confetti settles and hands the two of you a purple rose. the national flower of raemor and it was a common tradition to give engaged couples raemors for good luck all throughout their relationship and marriage. you thank blue with a hug and so does jungkook. jimin and seungyeon also congratulate you, seungyeon pulls out her camera and shows you the pictures she took while she was hidden with everyone behind the huge skylights.

eunwoo takes hold of your hand gently, raising the ring up for everyone to see. jimin and seungyeon also come close to get a better look, holding your arm still. “that rock is adorable, jungkook.” he pats him on the back. making slight fun of the stones size. everyone in the kingdom was used to huge gems, rings that would weigh down the finger of the wearer. you give eunwoo a light shove.

the ring was your style. it was actually really thoughtful too. there were conversations where you and jungkook would gossip about the adults sometimes, you knew everything back then. who was cheating on who, whose wives knew about the mistress, whose husbands knew about the paramour. then most of the time, they would solve it through money. buying bigger, more expensive material things to woo them, to make them forget the betrayals. you hated it. you specifically remember telling jungkook that you’d rather have a small ring and a great love, instead of a big ring and a loveless marriage.

so when you stare at the pretty gem laid on your ring finger, you realize it’s just more evidence that jungkook listens, and he takes your words into account. you couldn’t have been happier with the piece of jewelry. “i think it’s beautiful.” you pout in defense of the ring.

“it’s a red diamond.” namjoon tells them. “one of the rarest diamonds in the world.”

“how much is it?” yugyeom peers at the ring as well, he likes the way it sparkles even without the light.

“it doesn’t matter!” you groan, looking at jungkook for some help as four different people have your hand in their grasp.

“the diamond itself is roughly about five million— the rest of the ring, i can’t say.” namjoon shrugs nonchalantly.

jimin and seungyeon gasp at the same time, same pitch. both yugyeom and eunwoo’s eyes almost bulge out of their sockets. “sorry man— i thought it was a ruby.” eunwoo scratches the back of his head. jungkook only laughs at the conversation, not taking any of it to heart, along with taehyung (and chaeyoung!) who helped him customize the ring in the first place.

“five million?! are you serious?” you turn to him, about to scold him for wasting his money. just for an engagement ring too?!

he catches your hand before you can shove him like you did eunwoo. he brings it to his mouth, kissing your ring finger gently. before coming close to your ear, he whispers, “it’s worth way more than five million.”

“jungkook!”

taglist: @kookxin @fan-ati--c

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mrsbrookegillespie · 3 years ago

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-Chapter One- Teacher!Charlie Gillespie x Single!Mom!Reader

(Not My Gif)

This Story Was INSPIRED By @boyfriendskywalker Who Deactivated Their Account While Writing The Charlie Gillespie Kindergarten Teacher Story. I Have Taken It Upon Myself To Write My Own Version With Some Of The Storyline They Used. So, ALL Credit For Part Of The Storyline Goes To Them. This Will Be A Series, And I Will Finish It.

Description: Just Read It While I Try To Come Up With One--GOT IT! Okay, so Y/N L/N is a single mother of her daughter Y/D/N. Having it been four years since the father walked away. Y/N taught herself to never trust a man, but when Y/D/N’s teacher uses his charm to worm his way into her life, will she finally be able to open herself up to love again?

Warnings: Language, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of mental abuse, and as the story goes on I’ll think of more. But, be prepared for some angst.

-Chapter One-

“One, two, three, four--”

“Mama?” Y/N looks down at the doe-eyed 5 year old. “Why are you counting?”

With a head shake, she presses her fingers onto her temples, gently massaging them. “Mama’s just tired, baby,” she explains, calmly. “And has a migraine.” Now flashing her daughter, Y/D/N, a fake smile, she starts the car. “Are you ready for school? Not gonna cause trouble again… Are you?”

“I don’t cause trouble!” Y/D/N argues, lightly kicking the back of the passenger seat. “My classmates also cause trouble, I just resolve it differently than others.” She crosses her arms with a huff.

Y/N furrows her eyebrows at her daughter's words. “Are you sure you’re five?”

“I like to say I’m six,” she says, casually.

The seriousness of the young girl’s demeanor was enough to make Y/N fall into a fit of laughter. “Well alrighty then. Six it is.” She pulls into a parking space. “We are here,” she announces, unbuckling her seat belt.

“Finally!” Y/D/N wrestles to get out of her car seat. “Could you help me out?”

Y/N gets out of the car, rushing to grab her majesty from the backseat. “Do you have everything?” she asks, setting Y/D/N down on the pavement.

Y/D/N shrugs, but resorts to saying, “Yes.”

“Good.” Y/N takes Y/D/N’s hand, guiding her into the colorful building they both grew to love and hate.

“Ms. L/N,” a female teacher says, only giving a stiff nod towards the women.

“Mrs. Winchester,” she replies mimicking the gesture. Both her and Y/D/N shiver when she passes by. “She scares me.”

Y/D/N nods dramatically, agreeing. “I think she’s a ghost,” she stage-whispers.

“Definitely.” Though Y/N’s tone might’ve been teasing, she wouldn’t be surprised if she actually was.

“Hello Y/D/N!” Another young female teacher waves before meeting Y/N’s eyes. “Ugh…” She continues to walk without giving Y/N a proper greeting.

“Good morning to you too,” she mumbles under her breath.

Only a couple more awkward encounters were experienced until she heard the loud shrill of-- “Mr. Gillespie!” Y/D/N lets go of Y/N’s hand, sprinting towards the man that she called her teacher.

“Good morning Miss Y/D/N!” he greets verbally, along with a big hug. “And look who’s with you.” He moves from his crouched position to stand as tall as he could next to Y/N. “Good morning, Y/N.”

“Good morning, Mr. Gillespie,” she responds. “Nice to feel welcomed.” Her tone turned a little colder than what it was. “I swear it was either just someone saying my name, or a judgement glare.”

“You’ll warm up to them,” he assures.

“Like I warmed up to you?” she questions. “Don’t put me under the impression that you actually like me, please, it’ll just blow my ego right out of proportion.” She uses her hands to demonstrate.

He doesn’t respond, only showing her a bright smile.

The bell rings, signaling both of them to go their separate directions. “Mr. Gillespie the bell rang,” a student calls out.

Y/N snaps out of her little daze. “And I guess Y/D/N already went to her seat. See? I knew she wasn’t that much of a troublemaker, but you know--” she cuts herself off seeing his amused expression. “You have to teach,” she blurts. “Right! Sorry, I’ll let you get to that. Bye Y/D/N!” she shouts into the filled room, Y/D/N’s face going into a look of horror. “Love you, stay safe and…” She salutes Charlie. “Good luck.” With a turn on her heel she goes to leave the building, mentally face palming herself on the way.

When in the safe space of her car, she allows her head to fall forward, which only led to her accidentally setting the horn off. It wasn’t like she’s not used to people. With being a hostess at a restaurant, all she did was talk, see, and meet a variety of different personalities and personas. But, after having to raise a daughter on her own you can say her cool way of talking, and the ability to form well rounded sentences went downhill. Baby talk does that.

“So, what you’re trying to tell me is that you like your daughter’s hot teacher?” her friend, Madison, asks. Madison was a little bit younger than Y/N was, Madison being seventeen and Y/N being twenty-four, she couldn’t help but bond with the girl.

“That’s not what I said,” Y/N remarks, wiping down a table.

“Then why are you blushing?”

“Because you’re embarrassing me!” Y/N whines.

“And I’m the teenager,” Madison snickers.

Y/N blows some of her hair out of her face. “I won’t deny that he’s… Decent looking, but the problem is in the question. ‘Daughter’s teacher’,” she repeats the words Madison said earlier.

“You told me that Y/D/N can’t get enough of what you only call ‘Mr. Gillespie’, I don’t even know his first name.” She scrunches up the right side of her face.

“Because it’s informal.”

“He calls you by your first name,” Madison replies back, bluntly. “But, back to the point. If Y/D/N really likes him then what’s the problem?”

Y/N stops her movements, giving Madison a blank stare. She opens her mouth to answer, but closes it. “I just can’t, okay? Can we please drop it?”

Madison’s eyes soften when seeing Y/N’s pleading ones. “Yeah, sure.” She leans against one of the tables.

“Hello!” someone calls out from a few feet away. “We’ve been standing here for like ten minutes, can we be seated?” The annoyance on the man's face was evident.

Y/N sends Madison a cheeky smirk. “You’re on, Mads.”

She stomps her foot, discreetly, going to the group of people who are most likely ‘hangry’. Y/N glances at her watch, seeing how it was about time she headed out for her break and got Y/D/N from school, only to have the last minute babysitter she found that morning watch her for the rest of the day, so Y/N can finish her shift. It wasn’t the most ideal schedule, but it worked. It paid the bills, it put food on the table--could it be the reason Y/D/N throws fits, and tantrums in classrooms, and seeks attention? Maybe.

“We need to set up a meeting.”

Y/N gapes at Mr. Gillespie who for the first time she’s seen with a stern look on his face. “Wh-why?” she stutters.

“I know you aren’t blind to see that Y/D/N is…” His voice fades off. “The Principal wants to set up a conference with you, me, Y/D/N, and the counselor after school one of these days.”

Y/N’s frown gets wider, glancing over towards Y/D/N in the seat next to her. The girl only kept her eyes glued to her shoes. “The only days I’m off of work are Saturdays, Sunday’ and Wednesdays.” She pulls out her phone, scrolling through the calendar. “Yeah, only those days, I don’t know if any of those days would work but…”

“You work all those other days?” He raises an eyebrow at her.

“Yeah,” she answers, not thinking too much about it. She gasps loudly, when it hits her. “Work!” She looks at her watch. “I’m gonna be late going back.” She stands up. “I’ll send you an email tonight on what time works best for me, and then you as a faculty can talk amongst yourselves if it works for you. I’m gonna take my kid now, and go, so I don’t have to keep being stared at with that look you and all the other teachers give me.” She takes Y/D/N’s hand, the slight pull of it noticeable enough to have Y/N make a mental note.. “Have a nice rest of your day, Mr. Gillespie.

“Bye, bye,” Y/D/N finally whispers towards him. With a weak wave they both leave the room, once out of sight running for the door. “Why were we running?” she asks, when Y/N starts to speed to their house.

“Because Mama’s gonna be late to work, and is now stressed because we have to talk to adults who don’t like her very much,” she pauses. “You and I need to have a very, very, serious conversation when I get back home on where your behavior is coming from.”

“But, I don’t wanna,” Y/D/N cries.

“I know you don’t want to, I don’t want to, but it’s one of the cons of being a parent, I have to be strict at times when you don’t follow the rules.”

“But--”

“Don’t make me yell at you,” Y/N warns. “You and I both hate yelling when you’re in trouble, so I think we’d both appreciate it if you promise to be good until I’m back, no arguing.”

Y/D/N slowly feels the tears come to her eyes. “Mr. Gillespie never yells at me.”

The name made Y/N freeze a little. Was he a part of the reason?

Taglist

@yagorlemmalyn @justxfolio @charliegillespiewife

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paisley-print · 3 years ago

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Near The Water’s Edge: Chapter One

After fleeing your abusive husband, you find yourself in the small coastal town of July, North Carolina. Soon you meet Frankie Morales, Air Force Veteran and single dad. As the two of you grow closer, you begin to let go of your past and learn to love again. That is until a strange man shows up in town, and you 're forced to choose between your safety or the safety of the people that you love.

Inspired by the novel “Safe Haven” written by Nicolas Sparks.

Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Rating: 18+ / Heavy adult themes eventual smut.

Trigger Warnings: Domestic Abuse, Drowning, Dark Water.

Word Count: 1744

Note: I tagged everyone who liked the original posts. To stay on the permanent list please either send me a message or write it on the post. Enjoy <3

Series Master List

Chapter One

Aggressively American, that was the only fitting description of the place you found yourself in. July was a coastal town located in the southern part of North Carolina. It was pronounced like ‘Julie’ but nobody ever called it that. It had been the farthest place your two hundred dollars in cash could take you; and as the greyhound pulled away, you wondered if you should have chosen Nebraska instead.

It wasn’t that the town was dirty, quite the opposite actually...it just felt manufactured. Too perfect to be real. The streets were named things like Liberty and Independence. The shop fronts were brick and all along the main street there were American flags and flower pots holding red, white and blue geraniums.

The name Norman Rockwell came to mind.

As you walked along the main street, you surveyed the many shopfronts. To a passerby it seemed as though you were looking to buy something - in your mind, however, your thoughts were racing.

‘I made a mistake, I know I did.’ You analyzed the last few hours, replaying the memories over and over again as if on VHS; scrutinizing every last detail. ‘He would track me down, find me - by morning. Should I go back? No- it was too late for that.’

It was still early in the afternoon, but finding a place to sleep tonight was paramount. The trip had taken eleven hours straight through. Only ever stopping to change buses and refuel - you were exhausted and your muscles ached.

‘Food,’ you thought ‘I should eat…’

But did you have enough? Depending on how much a motel cost around here, you figured you would only have enough to cover a room for one night. So food would have to wait.

As you rounded a corner, you were met with the sight of the bay. It wasn’t anything like the brown water in New Jersey, the water here was a deep green. The boats created little swells along the surface, and the sun’s glint off the peaks made it look like the water was filled with emeralds.

On the left side of the street stood a marina and dockside restaurant. The smell of food made your stomach grumble. On the right side was a series of Victorian style houses, stone pillars and large porches dominated the structures.

A sign in front of one had caught your attention: American Dreams B&B.

‘Jesus’ you thought ‘they’re really leaning into this whole aesthetic aren’t they?’

A bell on the front door chimed as you entered. The decor of the place looked dated; as if it hadn’t been touched since the 80s. Lots of wood tones and floral patterns. You didn’t mind it though…. it made you feel at home.

An older woman was sitting at the front desk watching a soap opera on a little TV perched on the counter. She looked up and smiled as you approached.

“Hello there. How can I help you today?”

“Do you have any rooms open?”

“Sure do, we have three vacancies right now.”

Relief washed over you, “what’s the nightly rate for the smallest?”

“That would be the pink room at $175 a night.”

More than you had anticipated…. “All take it, thank you.”

The woman turned to the computer. The monitor was old and heavy- it looked bigger than the TV. “Driver’s license?”

You hadn’t even thought of that… “I don’t have one, would a birth certificate work?”

You cringed at the sound of it. Who carries around a birth certificate as identification? It was all you had, so you gave it to her, however you knew that the odd request made you stick out in the woman’s mind. Surely she would remember you if someone came asking…

The woman hesitated but took the certificate, reading it out loud “Summer Emma Sparks.”

You swallowed hard and shifted on your feet, feeling sick. The circumstances surrounding how you secured the certificate flooding your mind...

‘I needed it,’ you remind yourself.

The woman, whose name you found out to be Mae, handed you a key and sent you on your way. Now the plan would be to look for a job, something that worked off of tips. Having as much cash available to take with you at a moment’s notice was important. First, though, you would sleep.

And as the tide lapped against the boat dock across the street, you slipped into the darkest, soundest slumber you had in years. You were safe for the time being.

There was something to be said about the little joys surrounding small town life. In New Jersey neighbors barely knew each other, and would even go so far as to avert their eyes or turn their backs when passing them on the street. Here though, people were kind.

Too kind sometimes, always pressing you with questions...you couldn’t fault them for it though. If you were here under normal circumstances, you would have welcomed such friendly chatter. It almost pained you to be so dismissive, but you needed to be, for your safety and theirs. The less anybody knows about you, the better.

You set down a tray of empty cups and looked at the clock on the wall, debating whether to take another table. Even though your shift technically didn’t end for another twenty minutes, most of the night servers were already here and the day had been long.

You managed to get a job at the restaurant next to the marina on your second day in town. The owner suggested you start the following weekend, but you persuaded him to let you train that day just so you could get the free meal that they provided with every shift. The tips weren’t enough to buy a hotel room though, and so you had to sleep on the beach that night.

Thankfully, the tips for the last few days had been good, allowing you to buy a week in the bed-and-breakfast. Most of the servers at the restaurant were teenagers who could only work the evenings, allowing you to take as many morning and afternoon shifts as you wanted. Sometimes there would be another server with you, but most days you were alone. You didn’t mind one bit, the dining room was small and easy for you to handle by yourself.

You had your eye on a few rental properties on the far side of town. A mobile home community offering one bedroom complexes for dirt cheap prices. You were suspicious at first, but after taking a walk through the neighborhood you realized most of the people who lived there were snowbirds or weekend warriors.

Those residents who did live their full time seemed like you, friendly people who had fallen on bad times. They weren’t the confederate flag wielding, dip spitting, rednecks you first thought they would be; and for that you were thankful.

“Summer….. Summer.”

You turned suddenly, remembering that was your name. “Yeah?”

Your boss was holding two containers of soup “do me a favor and put these in the fridge before you go?”

“Of course,” you said, allowing him to pass the containers off to you.

The fridge was a separate unit out back; it looked like a little shed. From where you were, you could see a full view of the marina. It was set a little farther back than the restaurant. To the left, lines of boats bobbed up and down with the tide. There was a parking lot next to that, then at the very end was a house... or what you assumed was a house.

Elevated about six feet on stilts and spanning two stories high. It wasn’t anything like the grand Victorians that stood opposite of it. It was unassuming, modern and clean. Your eyes fixed on movement off to the side. Below the house to the right, you noticed a little girl. She had to be no more than three years of age, reaching for something over the bulkhead. A feeling of dread clutched at your stomach.

‘She’s going to fall’ you thought suddenly.

Both containers of soup hit the ground and exploded - painting the side of the building. You didn’t even notice as you sprinted down the shelled driveway towards the house. The splash came as soon as you threw open the gate and without even a moment of hesitation; you jumped into the water.

It was freezing, like little needles pricking your skin from all sides. The salt water stung your eyes like something wicked, but you forced yourself to keep them open. You scanned what was around you, murky green darkness and foliage that reached up from the sand like the tendrils of a kraken. Threatening to grab you and pull you down into its watery depths.

Your eyes landed on a flash of pink below. With all of your strength you pushed yourself forward, hooking an arm around the girl and bringing you both to the surface. Just as you broke through the world above, you saw a man skid to a stop and reach for the girl in your arms.

You gasped, and the little girl coughed and hiccuped... then started to cry. It was music to your ears; it meant that she was breathing. You held the girl up as far as possible; the man took her and moved away from the bulkhead.

“Make sure she’s okay,” you choked, the water assaulting your senses. You tread for a moment longer before the man reappeared and offered you his hand. You took it and he pulled you from the water easily.

Bracing yourself on the bulkhead you brought your weight over the rest of the way. The man immediately turned his attention back to the little girl, bringing her to his chest and clutching her as she wailed.

You blinked, hands coming up to rub the salt from your eyes, the world coming back into focus. The man was older, wearing a navy blue baseball cap and a grey flannel.

His brown eyes still held a spark of panic in them as he looked at you. “I don’t know how I could ever thank you enough….she was right there, then I turned around and….” He held onto her a little tighter and sighed, closing his eyes. The little girl was settling into a mess of sniffles and whimpers. “Don’t ever do that again, baby,” he breathed.

Tag List For This Chapter Only:

@heythere-mel @aquilacorvinal @krystlebee @pedro-pascal1503 @giizhkens-cedar @luckystrikesalterego @rayofhalsey @almost-golden-again @myheart-pedro @the-cosmic-ghost-18 @sewmanystitchssewlittletime @wwwbackslashcreedthoughts @anabundanceofmeg @petermj213

Permanent Tag List:

@hnt-escape

#pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #triple frontier #Frankie fanfiction #frankie morales #Frankie Morales fanfic #Frankie Morales fanfiction #pedro fanfic #pedro fanfiction #nearthewater'sedge #frankie has a daughter #its basically canon at this point #so I stuck with it

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angryschnauzer · 4 years ago

Text

Just What I Need

Summary; Working in a coffee shop you meet all sorts of people, but one customer in particular is always friendly, a local Detective from the nearby precinct. When one night he orders through a delivery service rather than in store, you get more than a tip when you make the delivery.

Fandom; Nomis (Night Hunter) Movie, Henry Cavill

Pairing: Detective Walter Marshall x Female Reader (no race or size specified)

Trope: Coffee Shop Meet Cute

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Flirting, Masturbation (male), Oral Sex (female recieving), unprotected sex, Vaginal Sex, Snowstorms.

I do not operate a tag list but instead please pop over and follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications, then you’ll get an alert every time i post a new story. My Masterlist got too long and tumblr ate it, so all my past stories can also be found on my AO3, link HERE

A/N: I am considering expanding this story, depending if people like it and want me to? Let me know! <3

Just What I Need

Running the steam through the coffee machine you wiped the nozzle and smiled, there were just fifteen minutes until closing and the coffee shop you worked at was all but abandoned. Just your manager in the back counting the cash takings, and you were getting ready to box up the remaining muffins and cookies for the homeless shelter volunteer to collect dead on closing time.

You didn’t mind working the late shift, in fact you preferred it over the early shift opening up at 7am. The 7am crowd were grumpy, rude and always in a rush. The 7pm customers were tired, quiet, and always thankful for whatever caffeinated delights you provided them with.

The bell over the door rang as it opened and you looked up over the cups that were stacked on top of the machine, smiling at you saw the weary familiar face coming towards you;

“Good Evening Detective” you smiled as the beast of a man stood at the counter. His face softened as he saw you, his shoulders dropping a little as he relaxed.

“Hey… Sorry I’m in so late… you’re still open, right?”

You glanced at the clock;

“Another ten minutes. What can i get you?”

You watched as he cast his gaze up to the handwritten chalkboard menu’s above the counter;

“You got any Chilli left?”

“Sure, a couple of pots in the fridge. Want me to warm it up?”

He paused for a moment, as if trying to process the most technical question through his tired mind;

“No… yes… urghhh…” he took a deep breath; “Yeah… if you wouldn’t mind. I’m so fuckin’ tired i think I’d burn my apartment down if i tried to use the stove”

“Sure thing” you said with a smile as you got to work.

You made small talk as you prepared his order, pulling out the sides and condiments that came with the Chilli meal;

“Hey, you want a free muffin?”

“I’m not really into sweet things this late at night… what flavours you got?”

“How about an Apple Cinnamon? It’ll last overnight and still be fresh enough for breakfast”

The Detective smiled and nodded, pulling his wallet out as you finished bagging his order and rang it through for him, paying before you handed the bag to him;

“Have a good evening Detective”

As he turned he smiled at you;

“Call me Walter”

Three days later and you were on the late shift again. Again it was quiet, just the soft sound of tyres driving through slushy snow outside the only noise since around 6pm as just a couple of customers nursed steaming mugs of coffee from their window seats. You saw the big silver truck pull up in the space outside the coffeeshop and smiled, there was only one customer that drove a truck that huge and if you were being honest with yourself you were developing quite a crush on the curly haired Detective.

The moment he walked through the door you were smiling at him;

“Detective” you greeted him happily

“Didn’t i say to call me Walter last time i was here?”

“I like Detective, has a nice authority ring to it” you said with a wink; “What can i get you tonight?”

He paused for a moment, and as you reached for a notepad to jot down his order you missed the slight eyebrow raise and smirk at what you’d said before he cleared his throat;

“What have you got that i can eat in my office without facing the wrath of my Lieutenant for making the department stink?” he said with a grin as he leaned on the counter.

“I got Mozzarella and Pesto Subs? Tuna Melt?”

“Tuna is a no. The case isn’t going well, no fish. Gimme two Mozzarella Subs, and the largest black coffee you do”

“Sure thing. I’ll put a fresh pot on and get those sub’s on the press”

As you started to prepare his order his phone rang, and you couldn’t help but to listen in;

“... i’ll be like five minutes, i ain’t eaten all day… yeah ok… i’ll grab a box…”

He hung up and nodded to the cakes;

“Can i get a dozen muffins to go too? Got some grunts that are jealous that i got to escape the paperwork…”

“Sure thing”

Loading a box you picked what you knew were the best flavours and the freshest bakes;

“You know, we’re on Uber Eats. As much as its nice to see a friendly face, we can deliver to the Precinct”

“I… I have no idea what that is…”

“Its a food delivery app. Here, give me your phone…”

He unlocked it and set it down and rested his elbows on the counter as he watched;

“You go to the app store and just download it. Put in your location and it’ll bring up nearby eateries and you can search for us. It has all the standard menu on. Save your card details or link it to paypal, and its super easy, it even keeps you updated when the order is being prepared or its out for delivery”

He smiled as you pushed the phone back to him, locking the screen and pushing it back into his tight jeans;

“That’s all well and good, but then i wouldn’t get a chance to see my favourite coffee shop girl now, would i?”

You leaned forward and grinned, keeping your voice low;

“Order between 6.45 and 7pm and i snag the deliveries and do them on my way home”

Walter pushed the key into the lock, opening the door to his apartment and groaning as his body ached from tiredness. He should be elated, they caught the killer, the evidence was logged and couldn’t be disputed… and yet he was tired to his core. He’d been at his desk for longer than he’d been home, and when the Lieutenant had finally ordered him to go him a little after 5pm, it had still taken him the better part of an hour to finish up and leave the building.

Shutting the door behind him he felt his stomach rumble. He didn’t even need to look in the fridge to know it was completely empty, devoid of anything even vaguely edible. Checking his phone he saw that it was a little after 6.30pm and a thought fired across his mind, a smile forming. Fifteen minutes later he’d added far more to his online basket than he ever would have done in store, but for the first time he was able to see exactly what the creations were whereas in the store it was just a big pile of weird looking cakes and bakes. By 6.50pm he’d entered his card details and completed the order, the little update screen stating delivery would be by 7.30pm, just enough time to grab a shower, after all if it was you that would deliver, he should probably shower for the first time in 72 hours having rushed out of the apartment three mornings in a row due to new leads in the case.

The shower was far too enjoyable to rush, and after he’d washed his hair he started on his body, soaping over his chest and stomach before he paid extra attention to his dick. The anticipation of just the possibility of seeing you had him hard in seconds, and resting his head back against the tiled wall he quickly worked his hand over himself. He got lost in the moment, his mind taking him to places it shouldn’t, imagining his hand was yours, thinking about that time he saw you wearing over the over the knee knit socks and a skirt, how your ass was the perfect roundness, how your lips would look stretched around his dick… he came with a groan, thick white ropes falling to the shower floor as every ounce of stress left his body, his body shuddering when he was finally spent.

He was halfway through drying himself when he heard a knock at the door to his apartment, he eyes going wide when he saw it was 7.20pm;

“Fuck!”

He’d gotten carried away in the shower, and now he had to quickly rush to wrap a towel around his waist as a second knock came just as he reached the door, taking a deep breath before opening it and seeing you standing on the doorstep shivering in your padded coat, holding two takeout bags;

“Hey! Come in, come in, Jeez its freezing out there…”

Stepping into the apartment you couldn’t help but to look him up and down, attempting to hide your reaction as you could clearly see the distinct outline of something rather large bulging against the fabric of the fluffy white towel;

“Hey D-d-detective… Y-y-yeah it’s d-d-dropping fast out t-t-there… radio s-s-said it was g-g-gonna be a wind chill of minus t-t-twenty nine by eight o’clock… what a n-n-night to have my b-b-bike, huh?” You carefully dropped the two bags onto his coffee table as you spoke.

“You cycled here? On that pedal bike that is always chained up outside the coffee shop?” he asked incredulously, immediately forgetting his current state of undress. Shutting the door he immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to his chest; “You’re gonna stay here until you’re warmed up, i’m gonna make you a hot coffee and to warm you up from the inside too...”

“I ain’t gonna complain to that” you mumbled, your face pressed to his chest as you suddenly melted against him, warming your cheek against his firm muscles before turning your head to warm the other one and he let out a little gasp as your cold hands pressed against his sides.

“I also said for you to call me Walter…” he said quietly.

Pulling your head back you smiled at him;

“Thank you, Walter. You’re the best… though you’re the first delivery i’ve made where i’ve been greeted by someone in just a towel”

“Sorry, let me go put some clothes on…”

You tighten your grip around his waist;

“I wasn’t complaining…”

There was no poignant pause, no longing gazes, his lips met with yours and the kiss was fierce and hungry. He was pushing your coat down your arms and you reluctantly released your hold from his waist to let it drop to the floor, your sweater following soon after. Your lips met again and he was lifting you, wrapping your legs around his waist as his hand rested on your ass beneath your skirt as he walked you through the apartment before dropping you on his bed.

He was pulling your boots off your feet as you scrambled up the bed, your hands reaching for your thigh high socks when he suddenly caught your hands in his;

“Leave those on…”

You paused and grinned, before his lips met yours again and he was on top of you, his hands sliding up your skirt and bunching it around your waist as he pressed a trail of open mouthed kisses down the valley of your breasts and over your stomach, before briefly lifting his head enough to pull your panties down your legs and toss them aside.

As he lowered his mouth to your core his gaze was intense, vivid blue shining through the dim light of his bedroom, his tongue pushing through your soaked petals and parting them as his beard brushed against your skin, heightening all of the sensations. Wrapping his arms around your thighs he pulled you closer to his mouth, his tongue pushing into you and he started to fuck you with it whilst his bearded face tickled your clit. You were squealing and struggling to stay still, needing to anchor yourself on something as your hips bucked and your orgasm started to rapidly approach, your hands finding their way to his still wet hair and your fingers wrapping around the dark curls as he pressed a hand to your stomach to keep you still, growling at your taste on his tongue as he felt you shake as your orgasm took over.

When your body had finally stopped shaking Walter pressed a chaste kiss to the inside of each of your thighs before he sat back on his haunches, licking his lips where he could still taste you on them. Pushing yourself up onto your elbows you grinned at him, your gaze travelling down his thick chest to his stomach, and the trail of hair that led beneath the towel;

“You gonna show me what you’ve got under that towel, Detective?”

“You ready for what i’ve got under this towel darlin’?”

Pushing yourself up to sitting, your legs spread and bent either side of him, you hooked a finger into the towel and tugged, your eyes going wide when you saw his thick meaty cock standing hard and proud between his muscled thighs. Wrapping your hands around it you relished the feel of his silky skin as it moved over the hardness beneath, your mouth against his;

“I need you inside me”

“I… Fuck… this wasn’t planned… i haven’t got any protection…”

“I’m on birth control, I want to feel you bare…”

With a growl he surged forwards, capturing your lips with his own before he pushed you down onto the bed. Holding himself up on one hand he hooked your leg up over his hip, opening you like a winter blossom as he rubbed his dick through your soaked folds, dousing himself with your slick wetness. You whined at the teasing, the way his tip would brush against your hole only to move up to your clit;

“Walter, please… you promised to warm me up from the inside…”

He paused, a smirk on his face;

“You want me to get you a coffee? ‘Cos i can stop…”

“NO, i need your diiiiiiiiii….FUCK!” He’d pushed into you as you were mid sentence, the feeling of his meaty girth splitting your walls wide open overwhelming you and your eyes rolled back in their sockets; “OH MY GOD!”

“You like that Darlin? You feeling warmer now?”

“Please… please fuck me…”

He grinned and shifted his hips, grinding into you;

“Well, as you said please…”

You had been expecting him to pound you into the mattress, you had not been expecting for his technique to start off with sensual rolls of his hips, filling you tenderly and carefully whilst you got used to his size. It was almost overwhelming, completely surrounded as he caged you in with his massive arms, his chest pressed against your own as his hips worked utter magic. He pulled his legs wide apart, shifting to rest on your open hips and he got even deeper. Pressing kisses to your lips and neck he soon had you moaning and begging for release, every push and pull hitting just the right spots and you were almost embarrassingly wet from the arousal but it only added to the sensations.

You could feel yourself coming, the pleasure too much to hold back, and with a long low moan your body betrayed you and succumbed to the orgasm that had been building in the pit of your belly. Walter kept up the same speed of his thrusts but pushed a little harder, a little deeper with each one;

“Can feel you fluttering around me, you gonna cum for me? You look so fucking beautiful all fucked out and wanting, feel so fucking amazing…”

Just as your orgasm was at its peak he tensed and you could feel his cum flooding into you, the twitching of his dick as he filled you with his seed prolonging your high. When you had both finally finished you could feel his weight start to get heavier on top of you, before with a sudden and surprising act of nimble dexterity he rolled the pair of you over so you were laying atop of him, his softening dick slipping out and you felt the trickle of his seed flow out of you. With one massive hand he pulled the duvet across your bodies, and you snuggled up to his chest;

“That was the best tip ever” you giggled; “In fact definitely more than the tip”

At that moment you not only heard but felt his stomach growl, looking up and seeing him grin sheepishly as he spoke;

“I just want you to know this is not how i usually treat food deliveries… do you want something to eat? Or drink?”

Nodding you smiled;

“That'd be nice”

A while later you were cleaned up, Walter having given you one of his massive t-shirts to wear which came to the tops of your thighs. He’d grazed through half the contents of his order as you nibbled on a muffin, having eaten at the coffee shop during a very quiet last hour of your shift. You’d laughed and chatted as the pair of you had eaten on the comfort of Walters couch, before you’d suddenly stopped mid sentence;

“Shit, i left my bike in the lobby… will it be safe there until i go home?”

Walter smiled at you, his hand curling around your thigh;

“Have you heard that weather out there? I’d be surprised if you could even ride it home through three foot of snow…” he paused for a moment; “Stay the night…”

You went to object, decline politely but you caught yourself, why? Why shouldn’t you spend the night? Taking a deep breath you smiled;

“I’d love to”

_____________________________________________

Part 2 >>>

#walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall x you #henry cavill #walter marshall smut #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall fanfic

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disastermages · 3 years ago

Text

[read it on ao3]

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

“It’s really coming down, isn’t it?” Cangse asks, her eyes looking up at the tin roof that hangs over the train station, as if she could see through it and watch as the building gets pelted with rain without letting it touch her or the bag that’s starting to dig into her shoulders. The weight of it is welcome and familiar, it no longer burns and itches like it had after she’d first left her mother’s house.

The old woman who’d been standing next to Cangse for the last two stops only smiles and shakes her head, “This is a winter rain still, my dear, you haven’t seen a rainy day in Yunmeng until you’ve been here in the spring.” Bringing one finger up to her nose to try and brush warmth back into it, Cangse wants to ask the woman what the difference between a winter and a spring rain was, but she doesn’t get the chance.

The headlights of something bulky and black sweep over Cangse and the old woman, making them squint, even as Yu Ziyuan sucks on a lemon in the driver’s seat, both hands gripping the steering wheel. They needed her there, but it would be a cold day in hell before Yu Ziyuan would be happy about it. Cangse doesn’t dare dim the smile on her face as she waves and turns back to the woman standing beside her.

“Popo, are you going to be alright by yourself?” Cangse does her best not to bend to speak to the old woman, but it’s hard, the woman is short, and Cangse worries about the woman hurting herself to look up at her. Rain and cold were supposed to hurt old bones, weren’t they? “My friend could give you a ride if you want.”

Calling Yu Ziyuan a friend was a stretch when she was already honking the horn, the sound of it blaring, but the old woman only smiles and shakes her head, her hands gripping her bag tightly. “My son will be here soon, you go on. Your friend doesn’t seem like the patient type.” For one moment longer, Cangse and the old woman share a conspirator’s smile, trying to drag another round of honking out of Yu Ziyuan, but then Cangse is being nudged down the steps.

“Are you wearing bell bottoms?” Cangse hadn’t expected to be helped with her bags, but the sight of Yu Ziyuan’s bell bottoms more than makes up for it, the grin spreads across Cangse’s face before she can stop it, the rain is still pelting her back, and Yu Ziyuan is still frowning up at her, though she shuffles further against her side of the car, the heel of her boot catching against the car’s floor.

“Shut the door! It’s freezing out!” Yu Ziyuan demands, though she looks no less like a ruffled cat when Cangse does as she’s told, the car shaking and bouncing as she gets settled into her seat, tracking in mud that neither of them mention. Cangse would get used to the mud, she would have time.

The car starts and Yu Ziyuan reaches into her bag with one hand, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, her foot still heavy on the brake. She must feel Cangse looking at her, because Yu Ziyuan looks back, the cigarette between two fingers, “Did your mother not tell you what mine did? It’s fine to smoke, but only in the car.” It’s the driest thing between either of them, but Cangse knows a joke when she hears one, and she doesn’t stop herself from snorting, even as she cracks the window, just enough to let the smoke out and to keep the warmth in. Cangse doesn’t blame Yu Ziyuan for smoking, not since Jiang Yanli’s health had started its downward tick, but it still almost makes her cough, and it still makes her eyes burn.

“I thought you and Jiang Fengmian would have sent Wei Changze after me.” Wei Changze would have been happier to see her, but he would have insisted on helping Cangse with her bags, and Cangse would have had to thank him, but not in the same way she would have thanked Yu Ziyuan, had she offered.

Finally, Yu Ziyuan takes her foot off the brake and they start rolling down the gentle slope of the hill, picking up speed when she finally presses on the gas, the cigarette still held between two fingers. Those fingers are no longer near Yu Ziyuan’s mouth, though. “Wei Changze had to drive A-Li and her father to a doctor’s appointment.” The phrase “A-Li and her father” raises Cangse’s eyebrows, the meaning behind it clear. They were fighting again. She’d seen it during their courtship, during their engagement, even on their wedding day. Or, at least, she’d seen some of their fighting on their wedding day. Wei Changze had carefully pulled her away from that, keeping her hands held tight in both of his.

Cangse sees the smile on her own face in the window’s reflection, but she can’t see the old woman on the train platform anymore, but she doesn’t see another pair of headlights behind Yu Ziyuan’s car, either. She must have gone inside of the office, she’d only stepped out to keep Cangse company after all, hadn’t she?

The woman had been there, and she’d gone inside the station office, where it was warmer and drier, to wait for her son.

“Fengmian wants another baby.” Yu Ziyuan says it suddenly but steadily, the train station behind them growing smaller and smaller in the rearview, the cigarette between her fingers is already halfway burnt. Cangse presses her lips together, but she isn’t surprised. Jiang Yanli was almost five, she was almost five and already needed delicate handling. Jiang Fengmian would want someone he could play with. It still sets Cangse’s teeth on edge.

“What do you want?”

Cangse doesn’t ask the question lightly, nor does she ask it to be cruel, but Yu Ziyuan’s cigarette is almost completely ash by now, only a sliver of white left to see before she stubs it out quickly. Some of the ash blows onto the denim of Cangse’s jacket, but she won’t begrudge Yu Ziyuan for it.

“I think,” Yu Ziyuan starts and stops, loosening her grip on the steering wheel, “I think I’d like a boy.”

“He fucking didn’t.” Wen Qing’s voice rings out across the dining room, a coffee cup still held in one of her hands, but Meng Yao doesn’t turn to look at her. The spoon in his hand is too heavy, but he still plays with it, even as Jiang Yanli stands up from where she lingers just inside his line of sight. She’d been lingering like that, since Saturday evening had dripped into Sunday morning like ink, and Meng Yao had pretended that he hadn’t heard Wen Qing tell Jiang Yanli that the bruises on his neck looked self-inflicted.

They weren’t, Jiang Yanli knew that, though she hadn’t said it. It went unsaid that there was no point, but Meng Yao knew that the bruises that had been there, even though they’re fading into nonexistence. He’d hoped… he’d wanted them to be gone by the time Lan Xichen got back, so he wouldn’t have to explain, but his hand still strays up towards his neck, trying to feel for swelling that went down. Jiang Yanli and her constant, too cold, ice pack had seen to that.

“I’m not pulling him out when he gets stuck in the mud again, my whole front end almost came off the last time.” With sleep heavy eyes, Meng Yao can see Jiang Yanli’s hand on the small of Wen Qing’s back, neither of them backing away from the window. They don’t have to worry about being seen, both Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan were already in town, taking care of their own businesses. They rarely came home for lunch. Jiang Yanli had told him that when she’d stepped into his office, refusing to let Meng Yao take his lunch there. Jiang Yanli had gotten stubborn about leaving Meng Yao alone. She’d left his office door open, and lingered like a ghost dressed in blues, and purples, and the occasional yellow or green, or she’d kept him from leaving to the loneliness of his own room.

She’d almost driven him crazy, but he’d been grateful for it. Meng Yao had been grateful for every interruption and every excuse she’d given just to keep him from being alone.

It still hadn’t stopped the nightmares, nor had it stopped the sleepless hours that came in between, but Meng Yao is grateful for every measure Jiang Yanli had gone to. He’d done his best to swallow it all down, but even Yu Ziyuan had called him out for the dark bags under his eyes and the way he’d only picked at his breakfast.

His work still hadn’t suffered because of it, Meng Yao had made sure of that.

“A-Yao,” Jiang Yanli’s voice is as gentle as the hand she puts on his shoulder, shaking him out of his thoughts and making Meng Yao look up at her. He wants to shield his eyes from the brightness that spreads across Jiang Yanli’s face, “You’ll come to the door with us, won’t you? Xichen is back, and he’ll want to see you first, I’m sure of it.” There’s insistence in Jiang Yanli’s voice, her smile wide and bright enough to make Meng Yao think to shield his face from it.

It takes him a moment too long to realize what she’s said, but when he does, Meng Yao is letting the spoon clatter into the bowl as he stands. He doesn’t care if Wen Qing turns to glare at him, he hasn’t cared about that since Saturday evening, but he somehow cares even less now.

Meng Yao can’t help but glance out the window as he walks by, his eyes falling on something light gray and shiny, and tragically just low enough to get caught in the worst of the mud if a storm were to come and swallow them up. Wen Qing’s words make sense now, even if Meng Yao had only been half listening to them. The three of them walk to the front door together, but Jiang Yanli allows Meng Yao to lead, trailing behind with Wen Qing as Lan Xichen beats them to the door, his bag hanging heavy on his shoulder and his keys still jingling in his hand.

Something makes Meng Yao stop short, his throat going tight and the light bruises around it suddenly burning again, as if they were fresh. His hand twitches, but Meng Yao won’t let himself reach up and press his fingers to them, he’d done enough of that when he’d looked into his own reflection, wary of any sudden change that might happen.

Can Lan Xichen see them? Would he have any idea that they had been there? If he doesn’t, Meng Yao won’t tell him, he couldn’t and wouldn’t put that weight on Lan Xichen’s shoulders. He wouldn’t forgive himself if he did, and he couldn’t expect Lan Xichen to either, no matter how much he might want to.

But there’s already a hand pressed against his cheek, a thumb already stroking just underneath Meng Yao’s eye, soft enough that he can’t choke down the pull he feels to wrap his hand around Lan Xichen’s wrist. His own thumb strokes over the rounded bone of Lan Xichen’s wrist. If they hadn’t had an audience, Meng Yao might have pressed a kiss to Lan Xichen’s palm, but he’s too aware of Wen Qing and Jiang Yanli standing at his back, pretending that they don’t see the two of them, just like Meng Yao pretends not to see the two of them in their spare, stolen moments.

“A-Yao,” Lan Xichen starts, a gentle smile spreading across his face, but Meng Yao feels no need to shield his eyes from it. His other hand twitches, wanting to reach up and hold Lan Xichen’s face in return, but the chance is taken away by the sounds of two people bounding down the stairs from where they’d been doing who knows what for how long, only coming down to cut Lan Xichen’s words before they’d even fully formed.

Meng Yao has no energy left to be angry at them for it, nor does he stop Lan Xichen’s hand from slipping away from his face, though their fingers still linger, still clinging to each other by the tips. Something so small shouldn’t settle all the ruffled parts of Meng Yao, but it does. Touching Lan Xichen soothes the frayed ends and soothes the bruises that still burn at Meng Yao’s throat, whether Lan Xichen can see them or not.

It’s easier to follow the group of them to the kitchen this time, to watch as Lan Xichen drinks water from a tall glass that Jiang Yanli gets for him, to watch him lean against the counter, to participate in the flurry of conversation that comes when Lan Xichen returns, a glass of water held in his own hand.

This is a routine that Meng Yao had seen before, but he hadn’t allowed himself to be part of it. He’d tried to stay out of it, and he’d tried hard, but now Meng Yao doesn’t have to force himself to remember Lan Xichen’s name, nor does he feel the prickle of being someone new somewhere old.

He doesn’t stop himself from listing, just a little, after the others leave him alone in the kitchen with Lan Xichen, all the frayed, ruffled, and now soothed parts of him dragging him downwards, until his forehead meets Lan Xichen’s shoulder and fingers press into Meng Yao’s cheek.

“Yanli called me, you know,” Lan Xichen starts gently, stroking the apple of Meng Yao’s cheek with just the tips of his fingers, “she told me what happened.” Meng Yao squeezes his eyes shut. He hadn’t imagined that Jiang Yanli would have told on him, but he might have known that she would, if she’d been pressed. “Let me see?” Lan Xichen asks, and Meng Yao starts. The prickly feeling comes back into his stomach and he hesitates for a moment too long, swallowing thickly. “I won’t make you, A-Yao, but I was worried, I thought…” Lan Xichen doesn’t finish, Meng Yao won’t make him.

Slowly, achingly slowly, Meng Yao makes himself tilt his head back, exposing what remains of the bruises and letting Lan Xichen bend down just a little to look at them. His thumbs press into the sides of Meng Yao’s throat, and he closes his eyes, his own hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He won’t allow himself to push Lan Xichen away, he would let him be kind.

Lan Xichen deserves to be kind, if he wants to.

“A-Yao,” Lan Xichen whispers, leaning in closer and pressing a kiss to either side of Meng Yao’s neck, “what got ahold of you?” Lan Xichen isn’t looking for an answer, Meng Yao knows, but the words stick in his throat like bones.

Meng Yao doesn’t realize he’s crying until he feels both of Lan Xichen’s hands on his cheeks, his lips on his forehead. There isn’t a breath of space left between them, and Meng Yao finally lets himself set his hands onto Lan Xichen’s hips, asking him to stay close without a word. “I should have been here, I could have…”

“Xichen,” Meng Yao tries to speak, but his voice is already muffled against Lan Xichen’s chest as he’s pulled close and bone crushingly tight. What could he have done? Would he have gone out into the woods and returned with nothing, just like the police had? Would he have tried to open the door from the hall, and would he have gotten the same result that Meng Yao had? Meng Yao presses his face into Lan Xichen’s chest and breathes hard, trying to shake the cold memory of that room off of his skin still.

“A-Huan.” Lan Xichen reminds him softly, fingers stroking gently through his hair now, though his voice is no less serious, “When we’re alone, I’m A-Huan, remember?” Meng Yao nods, but doesn’t dare raise his face from Lan Xichen’s chest, not when Lan Xichen’s whole body is still so comfortingly warm around him, driving whatever miniscule amount of wakefulness away, and making Meng Yao sleepier by the second.

“A-Huan, I missed you.” Meng Yao allows himself to say it finally, no matter how muffled his voice is in Lan Xichen’s oversized sweater. The words twist a wary laugh out of Lan Xichen, the sound of it comforting against the top of Meng Yao’s head.

“I didn’t get around to grading any of the boys’ work that I said I would, that’s how much I missed you.” It pulls at something in Meng Yao’s chest to hear that, his arms sliding up to curl around Lan Xichen’s neck, though he’s almost too short for it. “I would start to, but then I would think about you, and I would think about how you would already have all of this done. I would try again, but the same thing kept happening.”

Despite everything, Meng Yao hears himself chuckle, the point of his chin pressing into the center of Lan Xichen’s chest. For a moment, there’s only quiet and the two of them, clinging to each other like no one else could walk into the kitchen and see them, but then Lan Xichen is speaking again, the sound of him quieter now than it had been before, “I thought we could sneak away a little bit later, that’s why I brought the car. There’s a place down by the cove, Yanli told me how to get there once.”

“You’d take me there?” Meng Yao has to ask, but the words are brittle. Even if Lan Xichen didn’t know how to get there, Meng Yao remembered the walk to the cove well, when he was younger, couples went there for bragging rights, but Meng Yao had never been lured there by some high school boyfriend’s siren call, not once.

“I would.” Lan Xichen answers, pulling away, though only far enough to look into Meng Yao’s eyes before he kisses him, soft and sweet, and far, far too quickly. “Yanli says it’s prettier at night, but I thought we might catch the sunset.”

If Jiang Yanli had gone to the cove… Meng Yao silences that thought with a tiny shake of his head. He wouldn’t think about what Jiang Yanli had done with anyone at the cove, be it Wen Qing or anyone else.

If Lan Xichen took him there, it would be their cove. Theirs and no one else’s.

“Alright.”

#the untamed #mdzs #mdzs fic #xiyao #untamed fic #jin guangyao #lan xichen #cangse sanren #yu ziyuan #meng yao #lan huan #jgy #lxc #madam yu #this chapter is a day early but who cares #its been two chapters of horror so i think im allowed a little fluff

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years ago

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holly's august extravaganza day 26: slowly becoming lovers

for sonia (@pragmaticoptimist34)! i have to confess something - i got so caught up in writing this that i actually forgot to include either of the other two prompts you sent me 🙈 i hope you like it anyway!

second confession - it was supposed to be longer and then it kind of got away from me so i had to draw a line somewhere oops

thanks to @ravens-words, @cosmiicmalex, @halsteadmarchs and liz (sorry, i don't know your tumblr!) for enabling me and to @noxsoulmate for beta'ing!

ao3 | 2.9k | falling in love, fluff, tiny, tiny hint of hurt/comfort, soft tarlos, set between s1 and s2

Things don’t get fixed overnight. They agree to give them a shot, but that doesn’t change the fact that TK is still reeling from his break-up and overdose, nor that Carlos is still hesitant and afraid of pushing too hard at once.

But, slowly, they get to know each other. And, slowly, they start to fall in love.

i. food preferences

“You have to be joking.”

“It tastes like soap, Carlos!”

Carlos groans and drops his head into his hands, shaking his head at this latest revelation from his boyfriend. His boyfriend, who has just made his life—or at least his cooking—a hell of a lot more complicated. “My mamá would have a fit if she could hear you now.”

He almost regrets the words as TK’s eyes alight with interest; he’s been dancing around the topic of his parents for a while now, but it’s not like he can deny what he said. His mom would be having a fit, or possibly attempting to kill TK with a wooden spoon, if she found out that Carlos’s boyfriend was not only a gringo, but one who hates coriander.

“I swear, you won’t even taste it when it’s mixed into the food,” he tries, because coriander is a staple of his cooking, and he can’t even fathom not using it.

But TK just levels him with a firm look. “Yes, I will, Carlos. I’ll always taste it.”

Carlos rolls his eyes at his boyfriend’s theatrics, but sighs, relenting. “Fine. I suppose I can—” He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence, as TK throws his arms around him and plants a noisy kiss on his cheek.

“Thanks, babe,” he says, grinning cheekily.

“Yeah, yeah,” Carlos grumbles, but he can’t help but smile.

There’s very little, he’s finding, that he wouldn’t do for TK.

ii. nicknames

It slips out by accident one day.

“TK,” Carlos groans, followed by a gasp as TK moves just right, sending sparks of pleasure down his spine. “TK, Ty—”

TK instantly freezes on top of him and Carlos’s eyes open, concern rising in him as he takes in the pensive look on his boyfriend’s face.

“What’s wrong?”

“I…” TK shakes his head and forces a smile. “It’s nothing. I’m good, I promise.” He ducks down to kiss Carlos again, but the mood is all wrong, and Carlos gently pushes him back, raising an eyebrow. TK holds out a moment longer, then sighs and rolls away, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s stupid.”

Carlos tuts, reaching over to brush a hand through TK’s hair. “Bet you $20 it’s not.”

“Hope you have $20 then, Reyes,” TK says wryly. He looks over at Carlos and sighs again, biting his lip. “It’s just… You called me Ty.”

“Oh.” Carlos’s eyes widen and he props himself up on an elbow. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking; it won’t happen again—”

TK presses a finger against his lips, cutting him off abruptly. He smiles softly, then removes his finger and caresses Carlos’s cheek. “It’s okay,” he says. “More than okay, actually. I… I’ve always hated my name, but, I don’t know, I guess it sounded right? Like, when you said it? I think I’d kill anyone else who tried, but I really liked it coming from you.”

“Are you sure? You’re not just saying that because—”

Carlos is again cut off, this time by TK’s lips on his. TK moves so that he’s straddling Carlos again, hands pressed against his chest. “I’m sure,” he whispers, a grin playing at his mouth. “Now, weren’t we in the middle of something?”

iii. religion

Christmas sneaks up on him that year. Between helping the city recovering from the solar storm, work in general, the pandemic, and building his relationship with TK, Carlos has completely lost track of the months, until it’s a week before the date and he has nothing planned.

Really, it’s never been a big deal for him; he and his family used to attend mass and make an event out of it when he was a kid, but now he’s an adult, he’s often working, and he hasn’t been to church regularly since he was a teenager. But this year is different. This year, he’ll be spending it with TK, their first Christmas together, and he wants to make it special.

But he’s left it too late—nothing he orders online will arrive in time, the shops are becoming a nightmare, and he honestly has no clue where to even start. So Carlos resigns himself to another quiet Christmas, frustration and disappointment welling in him at the thought of telling his boyfriend.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out one night over dinner, the thought having been gnawing at him for days.

TK raises a brow. “For?”

“Christmas,” Carlos sighs, looking down into his stew. “It’s our first one together and I had all these plans, and then I just sort of… I didn’t forget! But things have been so crazy, and—”

He’s cut off when TK lays a hand on his. When Carlos looks up at him, TK seems to be fighting back laughter, which is confusing at best and potentially mildly insulting at worst.

“Babe,” TK says, grinning, “it’s okay. You might not believe me, but I forgot too. Christmas wasn’t really a thing growing up—my mom’s Jewish, so I used to celebrate Hanukkah on the years I stayed with her, and Dad was working more often than not. I don’t care, I promise.”

Carlos blinks. “You’re Jewish?” Surely he would know if… But they’ve never discussed religion before, and Carlos had kind of assumed TK had the same ideals as him about the church. In hindsight that was stupid and presumptuous, and Carlos can’t quite believe he’d do something like that. An apology is on the tip of his tongue, but TK just shrugs, going back to his stew.

“Half,” he says. “I don’t really practice anymore but I still keep the beliefs with me, if that makes sense?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it does.”

TK smiles at him, and Carlos suddenly realises that this holiday season will be special after all, even if they don’t celebrate anything. Because he’s with TK, which is the most special thing in the world.

iv. how they sleep

Carlos has been sleeping alone for a long time. He’s had a couple of short-term boyfriends and the odd hook-up here and there, but he’s never had someone else in his bed regularly—certainly not regularly enough to get used to it.

TK was hesitant at first to stay over, but once he started to be more comfortable, it was almost a given that they’d be sleeping together whenever their shifts allowed.

And it had been an adjustment.

TK had warned him he tended to move around and be clingy in his sleep, but Carlos hadn’t quite understood what that meant, until now. He is, essentially, trapped under TK, his arms pinned to his sides and one leg thrown over his hip. TK’s head is pillowed on Carlos’s shoulder and his breath is fanning in soft puffs over his skin.

The only way he can move is if he wakes TK up, and there’s no way Carlos is going to do that. His boyfriend looks so peaceful, and Carlos is more than happy to be clung onto like a koala to a branch if it keeps that expression on his face.

In fact, he thinks he can get used to this very easily.

v. pda

In private, their days are filled with gentle touches and stolen kisses. Carlos will be cooking breakfast and TK will slip his arms around him, kissing the back of his neck. TK will be doing one chore or another and Carlos will brush a hand over his back or gently nudge him as he walks past.

But in public, it’s a whole other story.

It’s almost reflexive, the way TK reaches for Carlos’s hand as they’re walking down the street. It’s something they do all the time at home, and even with their friends, but this time, Carlos immediately tenses, seemingly automatically pulling his hand away.

“You okay?” he asks, frowning.

Carlos takes a deep breath, then obviously plasters on a smile, retaking TK’s hand—and TK can feel the tension in the gesture. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” TK gently lets go of Carlos and smiles reassuringly up at him. “It’s okay if you’re not comfortable with touching in public.”

“I’m sorry, I just—”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. This is all on me; I should have asked.”

“But—”

“But, nothing.” He carefully bumps their soldiers together. “You’re entitled to your boundaries, I’m just sorry for overstepping. Tell me next time, please?”

Carlos hesitates, but nods, a gentle press of their arms a silent acknowledgment of agreement and understanding.

vi. scars

Carlos, TK has noticed, likes to pay extra attention to his bullet scar. Whether it’s pressing a gentle kiss over it when they’re in bed, or brushing it with his fingers when wrapping an arm around him, it happens too often for TK to believe it’s anything but intentional.

He doesn’t understand it at first.

Then he discovers Carlos’s own scars.

“What’s this?” he asks, tracing over the thick raised scarring on Carlos’s side. It stretches along the curve of his waist and round his back, and TK has no idea how he hasn’t noticed it before.

Carlos cranes his neck, letting out a hum when he sees what TK’s looking at. His head flops back down on the pillow and he closes his eyes, absently stroking up and down TK’s sides.

“It was...three years ago, maybe?” he says. “I got stabbed on a call. They told me it was pretty touch-and-go for a while, but they fixed me up and I was back at work in a month.”

His eyes are still closed, body completely relaxed, but TK can’t take his eyes off the scar. He reaches up to his own scar, and he gets it.

Carlos’s eyes crack open. “TK?”

“I’m good,” TK murmurs. He breaks his gaze from Carlos’s abdomen and smiles at him. “We both are.”

And if, after that day, Carlos notices him paying more attention to that scar, he doesn’t say anything.

vii. penguin or panda

“You’re out of your mind!”

In Carlos’s defence, a zoo date had seemed like a good idea. He knows TK loves animals, and he himself grew up around them, so in theory, a trip to Austin Zoo should have been the perfect time to get to know each other better while enjoying the day.

Turns out, TK has some very strong opinions on animals, and is willing to budge for absolutely no-one.

“I can’t believe you think penguins are cuter than pandas! I mean, look at them, Carlos!” He gestures emphatically to the panda enclosure, where one is napping on a log. It’s pretty cute, Carlos has to admit, but…

He shrugs. “But remember when the penguins were all huddling together?”

TK makes a noise of outrage, and Carlos has to laugh, then some more at the wounded pout he gets for it. “Is this really a thing for you?” he asks. “Like, is this going to be the dealbreaker for us?”

TK folds his arms and levels him with a stern look. “That depends,” he says. “Meerkats or koalas?”

And, just because he knows it will rile TK up more, Carlos grins and answers, “Meerkats.”

(They don’t break-up over it, but Carlos isn’t so sure that TK will be forgiving him any time soon.)

viii. special interests

“Say you could go back to a moment in history, but only once,” TK says, out of the blue, breaking the comfortable silence of the front room. Carlos stops carding his fingers through TK’s hair and looks down at him, curious. “Where would you go?”

Carlos opens his mouth, but TK doesn’t give him a second to answer. “Is it cliché if I said I’d go to Stonewall? I mean, I’d really like to see dinosaurs in the flesh, or—oh! I was, like, obsessed with pirates as a kid; I thought they were the coolest things ever, and I pretty much idolised Anne Bonny. But I’m pretty sure I’d die immediately if I went to either of those places, so…”

He trails off, a blush rising on his cheeks. “Sorry, I’m boring you.”

“No!” Carlos rushes to say. “No, you’re not. I love history, I just… What makes you ask?”

“It’s something we got into at the station earlier. Mateo brought it up first, I think?”

Carlos hums, pursing his lips in thought. “I guess…” He sighs and shakes his head. “It’s too hard. There’s so many places I’d want to go and people I’d want to meet.”

“But if you had to pick?” TK pushes, sitting upright and looking at Carlos with interest.

“I really want to meet Eleanor of Aquitaine, but if I could only go to one place…” He hesitates and thinks it over some more, but then his eyes catch on the masks hanging along the stairway, and he’s sure. “Tenochtitlan, but before Cortés arrived. It was a whole society, and I just think it would be so cool to see it up close and to know what it was like first-hand. I mean, I’ve read a lot of books, but we don’t have much from the Mexica people, a lot is from the conquerors, and—”

Carlos stops and huffs a laugh. “Now I’m the one boring you,” he says, but TK shakes his head, eyes bright.

“Tell me more.”

ix. coffee order

TK accepts the coffee without even thinking about it, even taking a sip before he realises he never told Carlos what his order was. He curses himself but resolves to drink it anyway; TK isn’t too much of a coffee snob, and he’s certainly not going to reject anything his boyfriend brings him.

He takes a second sip, and he’s so caught up in making a mental note to tell Carlos next time that it takes a minute for the taste to register. And…

It’s his order.

He looks sharply up at Carlos, who is smiling into his own coffee—therefore dispelling any notion of this being an insanely good guess. “How did you know?” he asks, bewildered.

The tips of Carlos’s ears turn pink, but the smile doesn’t leave his face as he looks up at TK. “Our first real date,” he says. “You mentioned that this was your go-to order.”

And TK can’t do anything but stare, because their first date was weeks ago, and Carlos still remembered, and it’s just…

He thinks—no, he knows—he’s falling in love.

x. fears

“Weirdest fears, go.”

TK has to laugh at the perplexed look Carlos sends him at the question, the straw of his boba hanging out of his mouth. Now that they’ve figured a sort of rhythm out between them, they decided to try the boba place again—there have been no emergencies or disasters so far, so TK is counting it as a win.

“Come on,” he continues. “Last time we were here, you said we barely knew each other—which was true—so now we’re going to fix it.”

Carlos’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “By telling each other our weirdest fears?”

“Exactly!” TK grins. “I’ll go first if you’re too chicken. Mine is slicing my hands open or cutting some fingers off with ice skates.”

“What?” Carlos breathes, disbelief all over his face. “I’ve never been ice skating but I’m pretty sure your hands aren’t supposed to go anywhere near the blades.”

“I didn’t say it was rational.” TK sips his boba, raising an eyebrow at Carlos. “Your turn.”

Carlos swallows, suddenly very interested in the table. “I, uh. When I was a kid, my Tía Lucy had a snake get into her pipes. She only discovered it when she went to the toilet one morning and it was just...sitting there in the bowl. I was terrified for years that the same would happen to us, and it’s kind of become a reflex to check.”

“Oh my god.” TK can’t help but burst out laughing, even though he feels bad for it as Carlos covers his face with his hands. “I’m sorry, I know it’s a real thing for you, I just…”

But Carlos’s shoulders are shaking too and, bizarrely, TK really does feel closer to him now.

It’s a good feeling.

xi. long-term commitments

Carlos is surprised when TK is the one to bring it up first.

“Do you ever think about the future?” he asks one day, head in Carlos’s lap, staring up at the ceiling.

Carlos pauses the show he’s technically supposed to be watching and quirks an eyebrow at his boyfriend. “Sure,” he says. “What about the future exactly?”

TK hesitates, and his voice comes out a lot quieter when he next speaks. “Like…” He sighs, a small flush rising on his cheeks. “The future. Our future. Us. Maybe...marriage, or…”

He trails off, practically whispering by the end of it. His gaze has shifted from the ceiling to the frozen TV screen and he’s chewing on his bottom lip, body stiff with tension. “Sorry,” he mutters. “Forget about it.”

But Carlos is learning to read TK, and he knows he was looking for reassurance. “I mean, yeah,” he says. “I think about it. Do you?”

TK stares up at him, wonder in his eyes. “After New York, I thought… But yeah. Yeah, I do.”

They share a smile as they lock eyes, and Carlos knows that they’re on the same page here. That, distant though they may be, both of them can hear wedding bells in their future.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand #carlos reyes #911ls #lone star #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #holly's august extravaganza #pragmaticoptimist34

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fanficimagery · 4 years ago

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A Fangy Fetish

Imagine finally coming home to your family, only to realize there's something other about your little brother and his friends. But that's okay because you're not exactly the same as you were when you first left either. It's a surprising change, but one you're more than okay with after meeting Peter Hale.

Trigger Warnings: Brief conversation about death, an abusive relationship and a brief scene of spiking one's drink. Author’s Note: Pls don’t ask about the title. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking XD

Passing up the welcome sign to Beacon Hills should fill you with glee since it's been forever that you've seen your mom and brother, but it merely makes you squirm in your seat since there was a good reason you had stayed away in the first place. And now- now you're meeting with them for the first time since you've changed and you're not sure how it should make you feel.

Your mom hasn't moved from your childhood home and as far as you knew your brother didn't have plans to move out until he had completed vet school, so it's not too hard to track them down. There's no vehicle in the driveway, but the opened curtains to the front windows showcase flickering lights from a TV being cast against the wall. Then cutting the engine, you tuck your hair behind your left ear and angle your ear towards the house to listen. After zoning out various noises, you can hear a TV show playing and your mother's familiar voice muttering obscenities when she sees something she doesn't agree with. There's no other voices or heartbeats so you figure your brother must be out.

Exhaling a nervous sigh, you pull down the visor and check your reflection in the small mirror being lit up by two small lights on either side of it. Then after making sure there's nothing on your face or at the corner of your eyes and mouth, you push the visor back up and then make your way out of the car. Walking up the steps to the front path and then the front path to the house porch, you nervously close the distance to the front door. You hesitate only a second before pressing the doorbell and then step back as you hear your mother pause her show and get up to see who it is.

The door opens and you can't help but smile when you see realization set in and Melissa McCall's eyes widen. "Y/N?"

"Hey, mom."

"Oh my god. Sweetheart!" She closes the distance between the two of you, arms wrapping tightly around you as you laugh and return her embrace. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"It was a split second decision," you tell her, letting her pull back and look you up and down to make sure you're really there. "Then I figured a surprise was in order."

She practically beams. "Come on. Come in," she says. "Oh I can't wait until Scott gets home. He's going to be so happy."

"Yeah, I can't wait to see Scotty either. It's been way too long."

Following your mom, you warily eye the doorway before stepping inside and the various scents of your childhood home make your chest ache with memories you had pushed to the back of your mind. Everything still smells familiar, even if there is a new underlying scent that makes you a little anxious and nose twitch.

"So what have you been up to?" She asks. The two of you settle in the living room and she's quick to turn off the TV in order to give you her full attention. "Catch me up."

"Well," you nervously chuckle, "there's not much to tell. School and work have kept me busy, and then there was this guy-"

"A boy?!" She gasps. "Tell me more."

"For a year," you tell her, your smile faltering. "I was with him for a year when I finally realized our relationship wasn't exactly healthy. The break was pretty amicable, but my trust in him was completely broken."

Melissa's mood immediately drops. "Oh sweetheart, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine. I'm okay now." Your mom looks so heartbroken all of a sudden that you can't help but scoot closer and pull her into a hug again. "Don't be sad," you chuckle. "It's part of growing up. If I didn't go through some stuff, I wouldn't be the person I am today. And let me tell you, I really like the person I am now."

Your mom sniffles. "Well if you're happy.."

"More than," you assure her. "I mean, I could probably use a little more fun between the sheets, but-"

"Y/N!" Melissa pulls back, shock etched into her features. "I am still your mother, young lady."

You burst out laughing, quickly leaning in to peck your mother's cheek. "I know, mom. Just wanted you to stop being sad. It worked."

A moment passes and her shoulders sag. She starts to laugh with you and you're so distracted by cheering her up that you don't hear the car parking outside or the steady heartbeat getting closer and closer. It's only when the front door opens that you freeze, your mom's smile widening.

"Hey, mom, whose car is out front?" Scott rounds the corner and you're surprised at how much your little brother has grown. He stares at you, eyes widening, before a very familiar and very missed crooked smile overtakes his features. "Y/N!"

You're laughing again as Scott practically rushes you, his arms tight around you in a welcoming embrace. He's warm, like really warm, and he has a very distinctive earthly smell. But that can't be right because as far as you knew the werewolf gene did not run in your family's DNA.

"What are you doing here?" Scott asks, squeezing you one last time before letting you go and then putting you at arm's length to look you up and down. He looks between you and your mom, smiling the entire time.

"Thought it was about time I came over for a visit." You shrug. "School is on break and my boss said I needed to cash in my vacation days or I'd lose them."

"I don't even know your boss, but I already love him. If he made you come home, he's okay in my books."

You chuckle, punching Scott lightly on the arm. You open your mouth to reply, but a frantic beeping reaches your ears. You and Scott look at your mom when she frowns, she then walking over towards the kitchen and picking up a beeper. She sighs and looks towards you and your brother, apologetically. "It's the hospital."

"Say no more," you tell her.

"Don't worry. Stiles will be stoked to see Y/N so we'll keep her busy for a while."

"Stiles?" You slowly smirk. "He still a little heathen?"

"Worse." Melissa snorts. "So much worse."

As Melissa gets ready for a shift that has been passed on to her, Scott convinces you to go surprise Stiles who's in town for the week. He hasn't stopped smiling the entire time he's set eyes on you, but every now and then you see his expression falter as he stares curiously at you before shaking off whatever it is and going back to his happy self.

The three of you head outside, you and Scott promising Melissa to be home in time for some breakfast before watching her drive off. You and Scott then climb into your own car, and he happily directs you towards the outskirts of town to a seemingly abandoned building.

"What is this place?" You ask, turning off your car and then climbing out.

"An apartment building. Friend of a friend likes his privacy so he bought the building. The only occupied portion of it is the loft at the very top."

"Nice," you quietly muse as you follow after him. But very quickly you come to a certain realization and stumble to a halt. "So he owns the entire building? Privately?"

"Well yeah," Scott says. "Why?"

"Oh no reason." You try to play it off, nonchalant. "I just- I rather not barge in without meeting the guy. Walking in uninvited is bad manners."

Your brother huffs. "It's just Derek. He won't care."

"Yeah, but I will."

Digging your heels in on this, Scott sighs. "Seriously, Y/N. Derek won't mind. You can wait down here all you want, but Derek won't waste his time coming down here just to tell you to come in."

"Can't you call him?"

Seeing your pout, Scott rolls his eyes but the amused little smile doesn't go missed. "Sure. Fine." He pulls out his phone and quickly presses the contact he's looking for. Phone then put on speaker, you flash him a small smile in gratitude.

"What do you want, McCall?"

"So I have a friend down here with me and she's really adamant that she gets an invite from you before we head upstairs. She says it's bad manners to just walk on in."

The guy scoffs. "Whatever. Come in."

Well that should do it. Hopefully.

"Happy now?" Scott puts his phone away after the call is abruptly ended and leads the way inside. "Now hurry up. I wanna see Stiles flip out." You follow him, briefly hesitating at the main door before exhaling silently in relief when you're permitted entry.

The metal, cage-like elevator gives you pause, but Scott promises it works just fine. So after settling inside and vowing to kill him if the elevator fails and falls, Scott presses the button for the loft at the very top of the building. Once stopped, you're then led towards a sliding metal door which Scott readily opens. Again you hesitate, but cross the threshold with no problem.

There are two men in the loft, one whose movements are very familiar and brings a smile to your face. The other one, the one with the dark hair and scruff, well it looks like he's scenting the air until his hardened gaze lands on you. But Stiles, who'd been preoccupied by tell him a story, immediately ceases talking to see what the problem is. And when his gaze lands on you, his jaw drops open and you can't help but snort.

"Holy shit. Y/N?"

"Goddamn, Stilinski," you muse. "You grew up in all the right places." Scott groans and you laugh when Stiles' awed expression turns a bit smug. From one second to the next he's moving and making a beeline for you, the two of you colliding in a hug which he rocks you side to side in. "It's nice to see you too, Stiles."

"How long are you here for? Dad will be happy to see you."

"Two weeks," you tell him as he pulls away. "And I can't wait to see Noah. It's been ages."

"I'm all for reunions," the guy who you're assuming is Derek says, "but why the hell would you guys let me invite a vampire into my home?"

Scott scoffs, Stiles freezes, and you frown at the new guy. This was not how you wanted the news broken to Scott. Your moment of anger, however, is overridden by the fact that there's no immediate denial of the supernatural from either your brother or his best friend.

"My sister isn't-"

"What are you?" You ask, cutting Scott off, glaring at Derek. "You smell wolfish, but so does my brother. Last I knew there was no wolf gene in our family line."

"Y/N, what?" Scott then asks. "You're not- tell him you're not a vampire."

Your gaze slides to Scott and you smile sadly at him. "I'm sorry. I can't do that." He tenses and Stiles takes a few steps back, and your heart breaks. "I promise to explain everything here in a bit, but tell me what's going on. Please. You don't smell human, Scotty, and neither does Eyebrows over there."

Scott gulps and nods, eyes filling with tears that refuse to fall. "Derek Hale comes from a family of werewolves. I'm sure you remember the Hale family before you left for college." There's a huff and you warily eye Derek as he rolls his eyes. Scott clears his throat and continues. "At the start of my sophomore year, I was bitten by a rogue alpha. I turned."

"Huh. I've never met a wolf that could turn someone with a bite."

"Never met a-" Stiles starts, only to stop and redirect his line of thoughts. "Wait, there are other types of werewolves?"

You shrug. "Well, yeah."

Stiles opens his mouth to retort, but Derek is quick to shut him down. "You can get your supernatural fix later, Stiles. Right now, Scott's sister has some explaining to do." By now he's nearly shoulder to shoulder with Stiles, arms crossed over his chest as he stares at you.

The guy's gruff, but since he's not outright threatening you, you don't get defensive. "Um, I died about two years ago."

"You died?!" Both Scott and Stiles yelp.

Your lips press into a thin line as you nod. Scott frowns. "Two years ago is when you stopped coming home to visit."

"I-I had to." You glance at your brother as the first tear falls, but you're quick to wipe it away. "About a year prior to dying, I fell in love with a local. Everything was fine. I was happy," you say. "But as the months passed, I started to realize that there were blank spots in my memories. Some days I'd wake up with bruises I couldn't explain or wake up completely exhausted to the point that I couldn't get out of bed. No one, other than myself, realized something was wrong."

"What happened?" Scott quietly asks.

You sniffle, smiling sadly. "My boyfriend. He was a vampire, only I didn't know it until I was one myself."

"Why only after? Surely you could tell something was up when you were with him," Stiles says.

You shake your head, but it's Derek who says. "Vampires can manipulate the mind. It's one reason my mom wasn't very trusting of them."

"He's right. Our kind can compel people- make them forget something happened or plant memories that never existed," you admit. "As it so happened, my boyfriend was feeding off of me without my consent. And when he took too much, I would pass out and then wake up extremely weakened without a clue as to why. Most of the time he compelled me to think that I was fine- that nothing was wrong with me."

"How'd you figure it all out?" Your brother wonders.

You exhale softly. "I went out partying with some friends. On our way back, my friend lost control of the car and slammed into a tree. I died, but I died with vampire blood in my system." All three guys shift uneasily of learning about the ingested blood, so you quickly explain how it got there in the first place. "When my boyfriend was too rough with me, he'd feed me his blood since vampire blood has healing capabilities. The only downfall of ingesting vampire blood is that if you die while it's still lingering in your system, you wake up in transition."

"Which means you had to feed on human blood," Derek says.

"Yes." Stiles and Scott grimace. "I had woken up in the hospital morgue and found my way to the blood bank. It was- it was a clusterfuck," you admit smally. "I gorged, I cried, and I unknowingly compelled the doctors to make them think that I was fine and then fled the hospital as soon as I could. Fortunately for me, there was another vampire at school. When she realized I was newly turned and I told her what I knew, she felt sorry for me. And since I was a vampire myself now, all my compelled memories started to rush back. She helped me break up with my vampire boyfriend and then took me under her wing. She taught me how to control the bloodlust and introduced me to a witch who made me a piece of daylight jewelry so I'd be able to walk in the sun."

Scott and Stiles appear floored by your story, but it's Derek whose expression has yet to falter. "I have one question," he says. You nod, waiting. "Are you here to cause drama for Beacon Hills?"

"No. Never," you immediately answer him. "I honestly just came for mom and Scott. I didn't expect any supernatural to be here at all or even that my baby brother was part of it now too."

"Okay then." His stern expression briefly falters so he flashes a quick smile. "Then welcome home, I guess."

You huff a quiet laugh. "Thanks. I'm Y/N, by the way. Scott's older sister."

"Derek Hale, co-alpha to the McCall/Hale pack."

"Co-alpha, huh. Does that mean," you trail off and glance at your brother, smiling when his eyes flash red at you. "Cool. The werewolves I know can't do that. They're really only dangerous when they've transformed under a full moon. Other than that, they're as human as can be."

"I have so many questions," Stiles muses.

Derek huffs in amusement. "Don't bother. We have books on other breeds of the same species. I just never brought them out because, until now, vampires never stepped foot in Beacon Hills and we didn't have to worry about other breeds of werewolves." He turns and walks back to a metal table where various books are opened, and busies himself by browsing the pages. Stiles is quick to follow after him and pester him about these so-called books.

Scott steps closer to you, hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans as he smiles sheepishly. "So you're fine?" He wonders. "You're not gonna fang out and drain us of our blood?"

"What?" You snort. "No. If I wanted to drain you or anyone else, I'd have done it when everyone was hugging me and my mouth was literal inches from your throats. I'm fine. You guys have nothing to worry about."

"But you drink blood?"

"I do, although I tend to stick to blood bags from a hospital. If I drink straight from the vein, I only take enough to soothe the thirst and then quickly compel the person to eat a snack or go home and nap."

"Have you ever killed anyone?"

You pause. Scott stares at you, and even Derek and Stiles go eerily quiet after the question. You sigh. "Does it matter?" Scott shrugs and you hate you have to admit this. "Yes. My first victim was an accident. It happened when my friend was teaching me how to feed properly and I lost control. It happened twice more, but I was able to save those two individuals before their hearts stopped."

"Any on purpose?" Derek asks from his side of the room.

"A few." You gulp. "The moment a hunter learns you're a vampire, you're apparently fair game. If I have to take a life to keep my own, I will. Dying is not fun and I don't plan on doing it again any time soon." You notice Scott frowns at your answer, but Derek and Stiles hum before accepting your answer as appropriate. And not wanting to get into a discussion of right or wrong, you paste on a smile and change the subject. "So anyway, what else have I missed? Any girlfriends I should know about? Or boyfriends? I don't judge."

Derek snorts and Scott flashes you a crooked smile. "Actually, yeah. My girlfriend and Derek's are out right now buying some stuff to throw a party."

"Oohhh. Do these girlfriends have names?"

"Yeah. Malia and Kira," Stiles says. "Malia's my ex-girlfriend and Derek's long lost cousin, but now she's Scott's girlfriend. And Kira is Scott's ex-girlfriend who is now Derek's girlfriend."

"That is.. weird," you say, chuckling softly. "But cool, I guess, if you guys seem to have no problem with it."

"We're all pack," Scott tells you. "We're more than fine with it."

"And I'm actually dating Lydia Martin," Stiles says, "but she's super busy with school which is why she's not here."

"Lydia Martin?" Your nose wrinkles. "Snooty Martin?"

"Hey!" Stiles quickly reprimands you. "She's not so bad anymore. Not after finding out she was a banshee."

"Hold up. What?"

"Yeah. Lydia's a banshee." He shrugs. "Kira's a kitsune and Malia's a werecoyote."

"Holy shit. What the hell has Beacon Hills come to?"

"That's nothing," Derek says. "If you had been here all along, you'd have seen a lot more than just that. Beacon Hills is a beacon for crazy."

"Yeah. No shit."

What little tension that had been lingering finally vanishes and everyone shares a friendly laugh. But when a newcomer enters the apartment, it has your hackles rising.

"Ugh. Who let a bloodsucking fiend in?"

The elder gentleman that enters is rather attractive, but the scowl he's directing in your direction leaves you scowling back. "Aren't you a little old to be wearing v-necks?"

"And aren't you a little new to be taunting the big bad wolf?"

You hiss. "Do we like this guy?"

Without missing a beat, Derek says, "On occasion."

"Good." Then before anyone can blink, you use your vampiric speed to appear inches from the newcomer, grab him by the throat and pin him to the floor. Stiles and Scott yelp at your sudden movements, but you pay them no mind as you snarl in the wolf's face. "You don't wanna get on my bad side."

The wolf blinks in surprise and everyone seems to hold their breath. You see movement out of the corner of your eye, but since it's slow you don't bother to act on it. Instead, fingers gently touch your face before a thumb brushes on the underside of your left eye where you know small black veins are pulsing. "Beautiful."

You freeze and slowly ease up on the wolf. "What?"

He smirks. "If you wanted me on my back, sweetheart, all you had to do was ask." Derek, Stiles and Scott all groan. "Peter Hale, at your service."

"Y/N McCall," you hesitantly introduce yourself. Climbing off of him and steadily walking on your own two feet, you can't help but knock him down a peg when you see his expression. "And don't look too smug. The other Hale is hotter."

Meeting Malia and Kira was rather interesting, especially when you saw what they were face to face rather than just hearing about it. Seeing Scott and Malia shift almost left you speechless, but seeing Kira left you in complete awe. They had then asked to see you and Malia was the only one to not balk or make some sort of disgusted facial expression when you mentioned needed a bag of blood soon.

Over the next couple of days, Scott manages to convince you to explain to your mom about your new status as a vampire, as well as Noah Stilinski since both of them knew about the supernatural. And since Noah was like a father figure, you, Scott and Stiles got them together for a family dinner where you told them your story. Noah was angry and your mother was heartbroken, but both accepted you with open arms.

Being with your family and your brother's pack brings you a sense of calm that you haven't felt in a long while. You're easily accepted without question and it's like you've known everyone your entire life with how easily they talk with you. Peter, however, is a completely different story. While he's friendly, just like everyone else, he's a little too friendly. You were more than ready to return the teasing innuendos, but then Scott had to burst your bubble by telling you that he was Malia's biological father. Malia, however, is quick to assure you that she and Peter have a rocky relationship and that she doesn't care who Peter chooses to show affection to so long as she didn't have to see it or hear it.

You were hesitant to be so carefree and teasing with Peter afterwards, but the recent lack of male attention had you caving before the week was even over.

"So what happens if your daylight necklace is ripped off?" Stiles asks. It's now Saturday afternoon and everyone is at Derek's, making sure the loft is party ready for later that night. "Do you just burst into flames right then and there?"

"No." You snort. "It starts off as a sizzle and you have seconds to flee to the shadows before bursting into flames." Malia helps you position a keg into a large metal bin, Kira then filling the empty space around it with ice. "And my necklace is spelled. No one other than myself can remove it so I don't have to worry about someone ripping it off."

"I'm not gonna lie, I kind of want to see you burst into flames."

"You're an asshole."

"Actually, I kind of want to see it too," Malia says.

Stiles beams, pointing at Malia and nodding. "See! I'm not the only one."

You glance at Kira and she sheepishly smiles, not even attempting to deter her pack mates who want to see you purposely set yourself on fire. A moment passes before you sigh. "Fine, but you better get me a blood bag or I'm sinking fang into someone's vein."

Stiles is quick to scramble for the kitchen, no doubt making a beeline for one of the few blood bags Derek had tossed into the back of his fridge. You groan but chuckle nonetheless as you look around for the perfect spot and then find it in the corner of the loft just right by the overly large windows. Then settling in the corner with your back against the brick wall, you exhale deeply before carefully reaching behind your neck to unclasp your necklace. Grimacing, you look forward and hold your necklace out for someone to grab. Kira hurriedly steps forward and takes your necklace with gentle hands.

"Jesus Christ. I can't believe I'm doing this." You shakily raise your arm, hand reaching towards the sun rays before your fingers curl into a fist. You sigh, nervously chuckling as you shake your hand out. "Okay. I can do this. It's just a little fire and then I'll heal."

Stiles, Malia and Kira are all eerily silent as they watch you. You're grimacing before the sunlight even touches you and then your whole face is scrunching up when you feel the sizzle before hearing it. Kira gasps and your eyes don't even have to be open to know what they're seeing. Unblemished skin darkening before slowly glowing like burning embers. Seconds later the smoke starts and against your better judgment you hold your ground. At least until you feel your hand igniting in flames and then you're quickly bringing your arm close to your body and patting the fire out.

"Ow, ow, ow." You utter. "Fuck! Give me the blood!"

Stiles is staring at you, wide-eyed, before Malia rolls her eyes and grabs the blood bag from his hands to toss at you. Catching it with one hand, you nod at the werecoyote before dropping fang and biting directly into the bag. At that, Stiles gags. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that."

Pulling your fangs from your snack, you mutter, "Pussy," and then go back to draining the bag.

Stiles gasps in mock offense as the girls chuckle. Your hand had immediately healed after your first gulp, but you drain the bag anyway since you're going to be around a lot of strangers later on.

The loft door slides open and immediately all three wolves wrinkle their noses.

"Why does it smell like burning flesh?" Peter asks. No one says anything, but their eyes slide to you knowingly. You sheepishly smile as you hide the blood bag behind your back. Peter's eyes narrow. "What did you do?"

The heaviness of all their stares makes you squirm. "It was Stiles' idea!"

"Hey!" He barks. "Don't forget about Malia and Kira." Both girls frown at him in betrayal, but he merely shrugs in return. "If I'm going down, I'm taking all of you with me."

All three werewolves sigh, rolling their eyes. Scott and Derek bring in the delicate black lights that need to be fixated around the loft, and the buckets of neon paints. Peter drops whatever was in the brown paper bags he was holding and then saunters towards you. He spots Kira holding your necklace and snatches it from her hands. You subconsciously press your back into the corner, but Peter merely smirks as he unclasps the necklace in his hands and holds it out, waiting to place it around your neck.

"Come on, sweetheart. We don't have all day." Your eyes narrow at his teasing smile and you step towards him so he can put your necklace back on. And since you're facing him, refusing to give him your back, he reaches around you to clasp the necklace at the back of your neck. Then letting it settle against your throat, he untucks your hair from the chain and then gently cusps the sides of your neck in his hands while his thumbs brush along your jawline. His smile drops. "Don't do that again. If Stiles wants to see a fire, let the moron set himself ablaze."

"Hey! I heard that."

You blink in surprise at Peter before he takes his leave, only to see the subtly surprised expression Derek is sporting and the sour expression your brother can't help but show. Malia is indifferent to the exchange, Kira looks rather amused, and Stiles is just put out because he was called a moron. Nothing else is said on the matter, so you quickly flee the corner of shadows and get back to work.

- - - - - - - - - -

The party has only just begun by the time you send Malia and Kira on their way. You had painted both their faces with wolf-like features- Malia in blue and Kira in orange. You had also painted markings along their collar bones, and swirls and floral patterns up and down their arms. They were prepared to wait for you, but you insisted they head on out and that you'd join them soon enough.

You're left alone in Derek's bathroom, bowls of paint and paintbrushes scattered along the counter top as you determine what you want. Eventually you settle for neon green skeletal features, jagged teeth painted over your lips. You outline your neck and collar bones, and then stand there while you fan yourself so the paint will dry.

The faint sound of creaking catches your attention and you immediately glance towards the doorway. Peter stands there, leaning against the door jamb. "Love the handiwork," he says. "Are you taking any requests?"

You faintly grin at him. "No because then that puts the pressure on me to give you exactly what you want. But if you want me to paint you a surprise, then I'm your girl."

"Hmm. My girl. I think I like the sound of that."

"Of course you do." Your eyes roll, but the quirk of your lips tells him you're amused rather than annoyed. "Now get in here. I'll try and make it quick." Peter pushes off the door jamb and walks in, getting up close and personal to your back. You think he's trying to make you squirm, but you merely frown when you realize just how much taller he is than you when you stare at him in the reflection of the mirror. "Well this isn't going to work," you mutter. Pushing the bowls of paint and paint brushes aside, you turn around and hop onto the counter. "There. That's better."

"So much," he says while stepping into the space between your knees.

Snorting, you let the remark slide and grab his face in your hands. Turning his face this way and that way, you hum as you determine what you're going to paint for him. "Wanna match?" You ask. Then without giving him a chance to answer, you grab the bowl with green paint and a paintbrush. "We're gonna match, but you're only getting half a face because I really need to get out there and dance."

Peter fights off a smile as you grasp his chin with one hand and then quickly dip a paintbrush into the green paint with the other. The moment the loaded brush touches the center of his forehead, however, he schools his features so you have an unwrinkled canvas. The left side of his face gets the skeletal treatment, but when that's done you can't help but dip three fingers into purple paint and drag them down the unpainted side of his face.

He grins afterward. "Does this mean I can mark you back?"

"I don't see why not. Just nothing on my face."

Peter carefully coats his entire hand in pink before he looks at you, eyes darting up and down as he determines where he's going to mark. He smirks and then gently wraps his hand around your throat. He leaves it there, squeezing just so, and you gulp beneath his hand.

"Ooohh. Don't threaten me with a fun time." His eyes flare blue in response and you can feel your own eyes change in return as he drops his hand and slowly leans in. You put a hand on his chest to stop his progression. "Seriously, Hale. If you mess up all my hard work before anyone has a chance to see it, I will rip your jugular out."

Peter growls and you quickly lean in to snap your fangs right in front of his face. He shudders and you chuckle lowly before nudging him back and hopping off the counter. After all, you had a party to attend.

- - - - - - - - - -

The party has a bit more people than you'd expected there to be and even Derek seems a bit surly over how any people are in his home. But the DJ is amazing, the drinks are flowing, and the strobe lights are flashing in tune with the beats.

Everyone is lit up, whether it be their clothing or because of the paint, and you readily slide into the dancing masses. You don't seek out anyone in particular, choosing to dance on your own or anyone who sidles up to you in order to have a good time. But the second they get too handsy for your liking, you're shoving them off and moving on.

You're dancing, swiveling your hips and laughing with a few females who were all too happy to have you join them. You turn around, putting the girls at your back when your hands slide up your neck to gather your hair and hold it up off your neck before letting it fall once more. Your eyes somehow manage to find Peter, but the once teasing wolf looks anything but teasing. In fact, he looks rather pissed. And that- that just won't do.

Pushing through the bodies, you eventually make your way towards Peter from behind and tiptoe so your chin hooks over his shoulder. "So who are we killing?" You muse.

He tenses, but upon realizing who it is he's quick to relax. And without missing a beat, he says, "Two o'clock. Apparently this young man, if you can even call him that, has made the mistake of spiking a drink in hopes of giving it to one of the young ladies here. Fortunately, every female he's tried to pawn it off on has been smart enough to not take the pre-made drink."

His words immediately sour your mood. "Well that just won't do."

Before Peter can stop you, you're falling back onto the balls of your feet and practically skipping towards the guy Peter had been murdering with his eyes. A smile here, a touch there, and whispered promises of a good time goes a very long way and it doesn't take long to have the guy following after you. Then as you're about to pass up Peter with Troy (that was the guy's name, the one who was looking to roofie some poor innocent soul) following you, you flash Peter a wink and mutter follow me just loud enough so that he could hear.

You manage to avoid the rest of the pack as you lead Troy out of the loft and into the hallway, manhandling the all too eager dude-bro against the wall. He's a pretty decent looking dude, but his smug aura and tendency to roofie his potential hook-ups is a major turn off. So you tease him with a pretty smile, leaning in so your lips are just centimeters apart.

"Forgive me. I hope I'm not interrupting."

You pull back, turning half way and grinning at the intruder. There stands Peter, looking like he's not sorry at all. But Troy- Troy is annoyed. "Fuck off, man."

"Well that's no way to talk to your betters," Peter drawls.

"Yeah I gotta admit," you say. "That was a dick thing to say."

Troy glances between you and Peter, scoffing. "Whatever. I can find another girl to get laid by back in the party."

He goes to push off the wall, nudging you out of the way, but your hand lands in the middle of his chest before shoving him back into the wall. "I think not." Then meeting his gaze, you smile cruelly as you say, "Do not make a sound."

Troy's mouth opens as if to tell you off, but not a peep comes out. His eyes widen and Peter chuckles as he saunters towards you. "Huh. Having a vampire around could come in handy."

"So says the werewolf," you muse. Troy struggles against your hand, but he's not going anywhere. Not even when he raises a hand to strike you because Peter reaches out with lightning quick reflexes and catches his wrist. You smirk before looking at Troy. "Now that wasn't very nice. I was just going to let you go after scaring you a bit, but now.."

"Now," Peter says, "I think it's time we give you a taste of your own medicine. Let you know how it feels to have something taken from you without your consent." Troy's eyes widen even more while you and Peter snicker at the spike of fear in his scent. "Y/N, will you do the honors?"

"With pleasure." You stare at Troy, willing your features to change right before his very eyes and hissing when your fangs elongate. He renews his struggle in order to get away, but with your strength and Peter's he's going anywhere. "Now this is going to hurt like hell," you coo. "I want you to feel the fear of every girl you ever roofied just so you could get your dick wet."

Your smiling façade drops as you snarl, opening your mouth wider as your head rears back before you lunge forward and sink your teeth into Troy's neck. You feel him stiffen in pain, struggling even more to get away as you harshly drain his life's essence through the wound in his neck. But the second you feel his struggle lessen, you pull back and lick the corners of your mouth.

Peter chuckles darkly as you pat Troy on his cheeks. "Perk up some, will 'ya? I hardly drained an artery."

"Uh, sweetheart? I don't think he can talk."

"Oh. Right!" Catching Troy's gaze once more, you say, "You can make sound again, but you're never going to speak about what just happened. You're going to forget that monsters exist. All you need to know that if you ever see my face or his face again," you compel him while gesturing to Peter who's now standing over your shoulder, "then you're going to remember something terrible happened but you're not quite sure what. You'll just be deathly afraid. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Good. Also, you're never going to spike another drink ever again. If you ever just THINK about taking anything without the person's consent, you're going to get violently ill and remember the pain in your neck from when I sunk my teeth into it. Got it?"

"Y-Yes."

"Awesome! Now, run along. You're no longer welcomed here."

Troy blinks rapidly, his mind clearing briefly as the compulsion sets in. When he sees you again, and then Peter at your back, his eyes widen before he scrambles to the side and rushes for the elevator. You laugh and wiggle your fingers in a mocking wave. Then the moment he's in Derek's death trap of an elevator and is descending, Peter's crowding you against the wall as he dips down so his hands can grab the back of your thighs and lift you up.

Your legs automatically wrap around his waist and you have a split second of being surprised before his mouth is pressing against yours, tongue licking into your mouth a couple of times, teasing yours, before teeth pull on your bottom lip as he retreats. You groan, hands finding purchase on his shoulders before sliding back and up, and settling at the nape of his neck. "So, uh, violence really does it for 'ya. Huh?"

"You have no idea." Peter leans in once more, nose brushing against yours and leaving you anticipating his next bruising kiss, but he merely presses his lips softly against yours. You whimper and he smirks. "Now, now. Patience is a virtue." You growl and he chuckles. "Trust me. The last thing we need is to get carried away in the hall and-"

"Oh gross. Seriously, you guys!?"

Peter sighs as you jolt in his hold. You're already staring wide-eyed at your brother, so Peter slowly lets you down before bringing you into his side and slinging an arm around your shoulders. "Yes?" He drawls.

Scott wrinkles his nose. "You guys good out here? Stiles said he saw you leave with a stranger and Peter looked a little too happy about it."

"It's fine," you assure him. "Just some guy trying to roofie himself a quick lay." Scott bristles, but your too calm demeanor keeps him from asking questions. "If you're wondering, I just scared him a bit and then sent him on his way."

"Y/N!" He says. "He's just going to go out there and do it again."

"Please," you scoff. "Do you think me dumb, brother? I obviously compelled him."

"She did." Peter smiles. "And it was marvelous. You should have seen it."

"I don't know. It seems to have gotten the both of you amped up so I assume it's something I'd have disapproved of." You and Peter both smile innocently at Scott, and he rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Either rejoin the party or go somewhere else. Don't have sex in the hall. I have to walk through here."

As Scott disappears, you hum and nudge Peter with your hip. "Well would you look at that. You got the alpha's permission to defile his own flesh and blood. Wherever shall we go?"

"I've got a condo downtown."

"Too far. My car is downstairs," you say as Peter chuckles. "We can take the edge off first and then head back to your place."

"Finally! A McCall whose choices I can get behind."

"Are my choices the only thing you'd like to get behind?" You smirk at him, winking, and then start heading towards the elevator. "Lets go, Mr. Wolf. I only have less than a week left in Beacon Hills and I'd like to find out exactly how rough a wolf like you can get."

#peter hale x reader #peter x reader #peter hale imagine #teen wolf imagine #peter hale #scott mccall #derek hale #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #fanficimagery #imagine

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