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lucy-sky · 3 years ago

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The Break of Dawn (Leo Barnes x f!Reader)

You work in a small diner not far from the bus station and try to get over a tragic event that happened to you three years ago. Leo Barnes is one of the steady customers, and at some point you realize there's mutual attraction between the two of you. There's no time for romance though - only one night left before the annual Purge, and Leo has an important job to keep Senator Roan safe as it's the only chance to finally put an end to the Purge.

Words: 3 656

Warnings: Sexual content (not super detailed, I would rate this story as Mature rather than Explicit, but still they f*ck), a bit of angst (trigger warning: loss), but Leo is a caring and protective guy who’s ready to hold you

A/N: My first time writing Leo Barnes or any Frank Grillo character, so please don't be mean :))

Taglist: @sweetfictionalworld, @skvatnavle, @lunamoon-87

“There he is.”

Stella pokes you with her elbow.

“What?”

“Your tough guy. He’s here,” she nods to the corner of the diner and you don’t even need to follow her gesture to know that Leo Barnes is sitting there, his usual spot. He’s a bit early today, and it’s understandable - you too find it harder to sleep well as the Purge is getting closer.

“He’s not my tough guy, Stells,” you roll your eyes.

“Oh yeah? Tell it to someone else,” she snorts. “So far I’m just wondering how long you’re gonna keep ignoring that sexual tension…”

“Stella, please.”

“What? Honestly, I don’t know why he’s being such a gentleman… But just FYI, y/n… You know it’s not the 19th century and you actually can make the first move?”

“Even if I wanted to, it’s not the right time,” you shrug. “You know he’s doing an important job. He’s got plenty of stuff to think about and it’s definitely not romance.”

“Who’s talking about romance, sis?” Stella laughs. “You’re both so goddamn tense, you need to blow off some steam. No, seriously. You need to get laid. He needs to get laid. It’s just way too obvious!”

“Oh dear god, just please shut up…” you groan.

“Fine,” she gives you a wicked smirk. “If you don’t want him, then I’m bringing his order.”

You chuckle at this.

“Don’t you dare.”

To be completely honest, you can’t deny that Stella is partly right. There is something between you and this grumpy silent man in the corner. But what exactly? You can’t really put it into words, it’s not just the attraction, or sexual tension as Stella says. You do find him handsome though, you admit that. A couple of times when he was wearing a t-shirt, you caught yourself staring at his muscular arms. Yes, guilty. And still… There’s more than that. You’d call it some sort of mutual understanding.

Leo Barnes works for Senator Roan. In the past, he used to be a cop, now he is the head of security for her. You learnt that one night when he was here, having his usual late dinner. The TV was on, evening news, something about the election of course. And suddenly you noticed him there, standing behind Roan’s back with another guy in a formal dark suit. You blinked, stared at the screen, then looked back at him. He caught your glance.

“Is that… you?” you blurted, realizing too late that you said it out loud. But he smiled, and in his smile there was no anger or annoyance.

“Apparently so,” he replied with a soft chuckle and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “How do I look?”

You started talking ever since then. Barnes usually came to the diner twice - in the morning he just had a mug of black coffee, and in the evening he ordered something to eat. Mornings were often crowded as many people passed the diner before heading to work in the city, so you were busy. But the evenings were mostly quiet.

You often stayed at work late, covering Stella who had to run to her kids or another date. You didn’t mind that since work was always your way to escape. Nobody was waiting for you at home anyways. Somehow, Leo Barnes started to keep you company. He wasn’t much of a talker and you were never into heartfelt conversations with the clients here, but something just clicked. Especially after you learnt about his job and it became clear that your views on the Purge are the same.

Many people hate The Purge, as well as many people support it. Some people hate it because they’re scared for their loved ones, their business (small shop owners who don’t have enough money to afford the Purge insurance often suffer), or they hate it just because they’re against violence in general. And the others… They have more personal reasons. You’re one of them. And somehow, even if you don’t know for sure, you just feel like Leo Barnes has personal reasons as well. He never really told you, and you don’t dare to ask because you know well enough how the memories can hurt. You didn’t tell him either. But still, you don’t know how exactly it worked, you just looked at each other and saw it. It’s like an unspoken secret between the two of you. The details don’t matter anyway. Your stories are in the past and you can’t change it, but what you can change is the future. If Senator Charlene Roan wins the election - the Purge will finally end. You can help with your vote, and Leo… Leo is determined to do anything to help her survive this year. Just this year, and hopefully no one would ever have to survive this nightmare again. You both want it more than anything else.

“Hey.”

You smile at Leo as you place a mug of coffee and a plate on the table in front of him.

“Hey…” he looks confused when he sees the food. Nothing really special: eggs, bacon, some beans and a toast. “What’s that? I... only asked for the usual…”

“Just thought you might need some extra fuel,” you shug. “Only one night left before the Purge, so… you must have a lot of work to do.”

“Yeah, you’re right… I actually do,” he gives you a tired smile. “Thank you.”

“Welcome,” you nod and turn to leave, but Leo suddenly touches your arm and you freeze.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?” you face him again.

“Do you work tomorrow?”

“Yes… Why are you asking?..” you give him a puzzled look.

“Well uh… To be honest I’d be happier if you took a day off… You know, just to make sure you’re safe…”

You feel the heat on your cheeks. Does… does he worry about you?.. The realization makes your heart shrink for a second. Apparently he’s not just someone who understands, he’s someone who cares. You already forgot what it feels like when someone really cares. Well, of course there are your parents, but they’re far away… And Leo, he’s right here.

“It’s okay,” you say, trying not to look too baffled. “Tomorrow we’re closing the diner earlier, right after lunchtime, so I’ll be home long before the Purge begins. There’s no need to worry, really.”

“Good,” Barnes nods. “I just… don’t think I’ll be able to come over and check on you tomorrow, so I just…” he stutters as if trying to figure out something to say.

“I just want you to be careful, okay?” he finally utters, and to your surprise his hand reaches yours, squeezing it lightly. “Just be careful, yeah?”

“Yeah, I... Of course I will,” you try to smile reassuringly. “I promise.”

There’s about five minutes left before closing hour when Leo appears. As usual, you’re still here, helping Mary, the chief and the owner’s wife with all the cleaning up after the working day. While she’s in the kitchen, you wipe the tables, TV-set is murmuring something in the corner. The election, the purge… Always the same.

“You’re closed?” he asks, meeting your gaze. “Sorry, I… Didn’t realize it’s that late already…”

“We’re about to close, but it’s fine, come in!” you assure smiling at him maybe a bit more brightly than you wanted to show. “We’ll get you something to eat, right, Mary?”

“Sure thing,” she replies from the kitchen door. You weren’t the only one who saw Barnes on TV. Since then, he became an always welcome guest as the diner owners supported Roan as well. Otherwise, to be honest you don’t think you could possibly be able to work for them.

You put a plate with food in front Leo as he takes a seat at the counter. While he’s eating silently, you wipe the coffee mugs and place them carefully on the shelf. The TV keeps talking. Something about the bloomimg economy and international murder tourists who keep coming to the US to take part in the annual Purge. You glance at the screen, see their gut-wrenchingly excited faces.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter under your breath and shake your head. “Fucking insane.”

“True,” you nearly jump at his words, as you didn’t realize Leo heard you. “I knew people who killed someone on Purge night for… different reasons. But those who kill just because they enjoy it, for fun or sport or whatever you call it - those are the most dangerous.”

“They’re just psychopaths. People like that should be kept in mental hospitals or something. But they just walk around as if nothing’s wrong with them. And the new founding fathers keep telling them how proud they are of them…”

“Roan’s gonna make it stop,” Mary joins the conversation. “This lady’s got some balls, am I right, sir?”

“Yes ma’am,” Barnes chuckles. “She absolutely got them.”

You leave the diner together with Leo. Mary chose to stay inside, waiting for her husband to come pick her up in a few minutes. The night is a bit chilly; you’re shivering, not sure if it’s the cold or the fact that you’re alone with him for the first time.

“Where’s your car?” he asks.

“Oh um… It’s in the service actually. So I’m going to the bus station right over there,” you point. Barnes frowns.

“What about tomorrow?”

“Stella promised to give me a ride home. Leo… I’ll be okay. It’s not the first Purge night in my life, you know.”

“Right,” he clears his throat. “Anyway, since I’m here I can drive you home.”

“You… sure it’s okay?” your voice betrays you a little. “I mean you must be tired…”

“I’m okay,” he assures, then nods at his car. “Come on. I insist.”

“Okay,” you hear yourself saying.

You’re mostly silent on the way. You feel a bit tense, but also kinda… weirdly excited to be in this car, next to him. Damn. Is Stella right, and you’re actually into him? Definitely so. But after all these years you almost completely forgot how it feels - to be into someone or how the relationships work. As if you’re a teenager again. Leo Barnes is the first man who actually made you think of something close to romantic longing since… That night.

“It’s here?” he asks as you reach your house. You nod, and he pulls over. You wait for him to say something, to tell you goodnight maybe, but he doesn’t. Without the sound of the car engine, the silence between you becomes even more awkward. You open your mouth to say goodbye to him, but instead different words suddenly come out.

“Leo, I…”

He looks at you intently. You stare down at your knees.

“Yeah?”

“I just… The fact that you worry about me - it’s very nice of you, really. And… I just wanted you to know that I worry about you too. I worry about you a lot actually…”

“Y/n…” his voice is quiet as he brings his hand to your face, gently urging you to look up at him. His eyes look darker than usual in the dim light of the street lamp nearby. You think if it’s possible to drown in someone’s eyes you’d already be gone.

“I’ll be fine, okay?” he says softly. “It’s gonna be a tough night for sure, but I’ll be fine, I have to be fine. You gotta trust me on this. You trust me?”

“Yes,” you barely whisper, unable to take your eyes from his, and when the tension becomes almost unbearable, his lips finally crush on yours.

You both expected and didn’t expect it, didn’t dare to admit even to yourself how much you really wanted it. Your breath hitches somewhere in your throat as you kiss him back eagerly, forgetting about everything and everyone for this moment that lasts so long and so painfully short at once. You’re both panting as your lips part, foreheads pressed together.

“I… I think I should go,” you mumble as a rush of panic suddenly overwhelms you.

“Yeah… Yeah…” he nods. “You should get some rest.”

“You too.”

You squeeze his hand for a second. Gosh, you didn’t even realize your hand was on his all this time.

“Good night,” you finally murmur, bracing yourself to get out of the car. You feel like something else needs to be said, but can’t really figure out what.

You enter the house and just lean against the door, heart hammering wildly inside your chest. You close your eyes and try to catch your breath. What the hell just happened? And why are you reacting like that? There’s nothing wrong about this kiss. You’re two single adults… Well, probably single. Leo doesn’t wear a ring, so… Damn it, you really got out of practice when it comes to relationships.

A knock on the door made your eyes snap open. As if in a daze, you slowly turn and reach the door handle, already knowing who you’re going to see.

Leo doesn’t say anything. And you can’t read the expression in his eyes, or you simply don’t have time for it, because the next moment he steps inside, his hands cup your cheeks and he kisses you with such longing and desperation it nearly kicks the breath out of your lungs. You don’t know what you’re doing any more, but your fingers are already in his dark hair, scratching the nape of his neck while his lips and tongue keep attacking your mouth. It feels like shockwaves running through your body, and for the first time in years you feel just so alive. All this time your feelings, passions and emotions were asleep, everything around you seemed pale and lifeless as if someone turned down the contrast, but something changed. Not right now, not in the snap of a finger, of course; it happened gradually. Something kept changing deep within you since the very first time your eyes met, and now - you’re finally ready to feel something. To let him in.

You don't think about it though. Or about anything else, to be honest. All you can focus on is what his lips are doing to you, how hot his breath is and how weirdly nice his stubble feels against your skin. Leo’s coat falls on the floor. His big hands seize your waist as he lifts you up, causing you to grip onto his broad shoulders. Pressing you against the nearest wall, he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, the kisses are sloppy, open-mouthed, and you can't suppress a soft moan. He's big and strong, you feel small underneath him, but you like it.

You can’t even remember clearly how you finally reached the bedroom, frantically helping each other to get rid of the clothes. When you tumble down and he hovers over you, the skin to skin contact is overwhelming. He brushes your hair away from your flushed face, kisses you with sudden tenderness. The look in his hazel eyes is warm yet still full of passion as you cup his cheek and he presses his lips to your palm. An affectionate gesture that makes your heart skip a beat, but you both are too impatient to be soft right now. So he leans in, kissing you harder this time, grunting against your mouth when you pull him closer, craving as much of him as possible. You can feel him twitching against your lower belly as you wrap your legs around him, eager to get more pressure. He’s not even inside you yet, but it already feels so good you can’t help bucking your hips, earning a low groan from him at the friction. His lips trail along your jawline, down to the side of your neck, where he kisses and nibbles, and you just know there’s gonna be marks tomorrow, but damn, you can’t care less.

When he finally enters you and starts moving, you’re almost delirious. Clinging to him, you gasp and whisper his name into his skin, feel the muscles on his back tense as he thrusts deeper. The wave of bliss hits you so hard your vision turns blurry and for a few seconds it feels like you’re not there.

Reality comes back to you slowly, with all the dark and troubled thoughts you can’t escape. Leo is lying next to you with his eyes closed, breathing evenly, so you think he must be asleep. Good for him. Carefully, you slip out of the bed to get a glass of water. It doesn’t help you to get rid of the lump in your throat though. Back to the bedroom, you sit on the edge of the bed and let out a deep sigh, trying to fight back tears. Too many emotions for one night.

“Y/n.”

Leo’s voice doesn’t even seem sleepy. You can feel him shifting in bed to reach you, the warmth of his calloused hand stroking your back soothingly.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, uh…” You shake your head, bringing your hand to rub your eyes. “I’m good. It’s just… It’s been a while since I… You know…”

“I know. It’s been a while for me as well.”

“I lost my boyfriend three years ago,” you blurt out, surprising yourself that you said it out loud. “During the Purge night. He um… He was a medical student. We lived in an apartment building and we heard someone crying for help. I wanted to stop him but he just couldn’t ignore someone who needed help, you know. He got shot accidentally, right into his head. There was no chance to save him.”

Leo’s hand gently squeezes your shoulder.

“Sorry, I… Don’t even know why I’m telling you this. I’ve never talked about him since the funeral…”

“It’s okay,” he moves closer, pressing a kiss against your shoulder blade.

“I was so angry at first, you know,” now that you start talking you seemingly cannot stop. “I wished I could find and kill them. But then I thought he wouldn’t want me to become a murderer...”

He presses his forehead against the back of your head for a moment. “I know how you feel, y/n.”

You finally turn to meet his gaze.

“I lost my son. I know what this anger feels like. Two years ago all I was thinking about on the Purge night was revenge. I was determined, almost obsessed.”

“Did… you do it?”

“No. I was close to it. Very close. But… One wise person made me realize that it wouldn’t help. Violence only brings more violence.”

“It has to be stopped,” you whisper.

“Yes,” he nods. “That’s why I left the police. Cops have to stay away from the Purge. I couldn’t any more. At least now I know I'm doing the right thing.”

“Right… Just… I’m just scared of losing you too,” you say very quietly, but he hears you anyway. His strong arms wrap around your body, pulling you closer, enclosing into his warmth. Making you feel safe.

“Hey, hey...” He whispers into your hair as he nuzzles into the top of your head. “It’s not gonna happen, you hear me? Everything’s gonna be alright. I promise.”

You have no doubt your colleagues noticed who drove you to work this morning. But today no one is in the mood for comments, not even Stella. Even though the work goes on as usual, there’s still this tension in the air before the Purge night.

Through the window you can see a bunch of guys gathered around the car with an open trunk full of baseball bats and other stuff you can’t discern. The owner proudly shows off his stuff, other guys laugh, they look pretty chill and relaxed, and your stomach nearly twists at the sight.

All night you could barely sleep a wink. A knock on the door drags you out of troubled slumber. At first you’re not even sure if you really heard it or it was in your dream. But the sounds repeat and you jump off the bed and without even caring to slip something over the huge t-shirt you sleep in. Barefoot, you rush to the door, open it with shaky hands.

He looks so exhausted it seems like he can barely stand. The collar of his shirt that used to be white is now stained with blood. And yet… He’s smiling.

“Leo!..” you gasp, stepping towards him and bringing your hand to his stubbly cheek. “Oh my god, are you… Everything okay?..”

“I’m great,” he breathes out huskily, and his smile slowly turns into a wide grin. “We did it, baby.”

You don’t even try to hold back tears as you fall into his arms, bury your face into his chest. He smells a bit like sweat and blood, but you absolutely don’t care. “I’m so glad you’re here,” you mumble into his ruined shirt. “I’m here,” he whispers back, stroking your hair. Then you realize the two of you are still standing at the porch.

“Alright,” you say, drawing back a little. “Let’s get you in, you need some rest… And you’re probably hungry too… And you definitely need a shower…”

“Wait, y/n. Let’s just… Stay here for a bit? I think we both need to catch a breath,” he chuckles crookedly, reaching out to wipe a tear from your cheek. You smile back.

“Okay.”

Sitting on the porch with your head on Leo’s shoulder, his arm wrapped around your frame, you watch the sky becoming lighter and lighter as the dawn breaks. You can hear the sounds of sirens in the distance. The city’s slowly getting back to life, waking up after another nightmare.

You both know it’s not the end, the war isn’t won yet, but at least you won this very important battle. And for the first time in what seems like ages you have a good feeling about the future.

Thanks for reading!

Hugs, Lucy

#the purge #leo barnes x reader #frank grillo #fanfiction #the purge fanfiction #the purge anarchy #the purge election year #lucy tries to write

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t-wordy-kk · 3 years ago

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I’ll Never Forget You:

Here it is!! I stole the idea for this from @obsessedwithseb, and I absolutely LOVED writing it! Writing the reader as a cousin was definitely different than what I’ve written before, but I think I did a pretty decent job. I hope that I did your idea justice!

Word count: 2,749

(Warning: tiny bit of angst, but mostly fluff 😂)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Christmas was a time of year that you always loved. Between the holiday candle scents in the shops, the fresh smell of Christmas trees all over the city, the togetherness of your family, and your little childhood home in the countryside that had the perfect hills for sledding, you always said that Christmas was your favorite time of the year. But, despite all of the things you loved about Christmas, there was always one part of the day that always made things better. Every year, your cousin Sebastian would stay with you and your family from Christmas Eve to New Years, and you all would celebrate together. Since you and Sebastian lived on the same street as kids, you two were the best of friends and spent all of your time together growing up, but now that he’s a huge movie star, you don’t get to see him as often. But Christmas was a yearly promise, and you couldn’t wait any longer.

“Mooooom, when is Sebastian going to get here? He won’t answer my texts,” You yelled from your seat on the couch, flipping through the television channels to see if there were any good Christmas movies on. Eventually, you found Elf, and settled for that, but you were mesmerized by the color-changing lights on the Christmas tree in the corner of the room.

“He should be here soon, don’t worry sweetheart. You sound like you’re a young child again waiting for him to finish his homework in order to come over,” She replied with a laugh, putting the finishing touches on her annual Christmas dinner that, no matter how much you and your dad tried, couldn’t help with because she wanted to keep her special Christmas dinner secrets.

“I do not!”

“Yeah, you do.” Knowing exactly who that voice belonged to, you jumped up from your seat on the couch and ran to Sebastian, immediately jumping into his arms while he spun you around, eventually placing you back down onto the ground. “Hey munchkin.”

“Sebby, tell me everything, what movies are you in, how are your superhero buddies, can I go to set soon, is-”

“Woah, calm yourself now. I actually have news for you guys. I want you to meet my girlfriend, Alejandra,” Sebastian said as he walked over to the new girl in your home, who was standing next to your dad and shyly smiling. “Alejandra, this is my cousin Y/N that I told you about, and this is my aunt, who never lets anyone in the kitchen to help her cook.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” Alejandra said as your mom gave her a long hug while you looked at them, slightly confused, but happy for Sebastian.

“When did this happen?” You asked, nudging his side while Alejandra made small talk with your parents.

“I met her while I was filming somewhere, I can’t even remember where, but we hit it off really well, and she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. She’s so kind, smart, caring, just perfect in my eyes.” Feeling a small pang of jealousy, you kept quiet and slowly made your way over, hoping to make a good impression so she wouldn’t absolutely hate you.

“Hey, I’m Y/N,” You said, awkwardly sticking your hand out, hoping she would accept the handshake you were offering.

“Alejandra,” She responded with a small giggle. “Sebby’s told me a lot about you, it sounds like you two always had fun while you were growing up, he’s always going on about all of the memories he has of something you did together.”

‘I was the only one who ever called him Sebby.’

“Yeah, we did so many things while we were growing up, some of the best memories that I have are with him.” Reminiscing on some of the memories, you didn’t feel the tear roll down your face until Alejandra reached a hand out to wipe it away.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to make you cry Y/N!”

“No, you’re perfectly fine, I promise that it’s happy tears,” You lied with a laugh, beginning to think that he was replacing you. Of course, he’s tired of the little kid he grew up with. No more best friends, just cousins that see each other every Christmas, which now he might even stop doing. “Hey mom, I’m going for a quick walk before dinner, I’ll be back soon!”

“Dinner will be ready in half an hour, so you might want to jog instead of walk!” She joked, causing your dad to let out a small laugh.

“I’ll jog just for you, mom!”

Walking out the door, you looked around, embracing the winter environment around you. To your left was the small shed that you would always hide in whenever you and Seb played hide-and-seek as kids. Looking to the back of the house, you saw the large hill that you would sled down, always falling off of the sled and rolling the rest of the way down. There was a medium-sized tree to the right of the house that you both planted together when you were beginning preschool, and watching it grow with you was the best part of your childhood.

Anytime there was ever a problem, the tree would get to hear it. A bully that stole your juice box, the tree was your comfort when you arrived home. Any boy that hurt your feelings because of a breakup, or any girl that broke Sebastian’s heart, the tree would hear all of the rants that you both shared. It had grown enough when you were teens for you to install a tire swing, and it has been there ever since, still hanging to this day. As all of the memories began to flood back into your mind, you felt more tears begin to fall, seeing that Sebastian had his girl now, and it was time for you to realize that they were each other’s, leaving you with the memories on the tire swing.

“I came back early,” You announced, walking through the door while you held your emotions together.

“How was your walk, Y/N?” Alejandra asked from her seat on the couch, where Sebastian had an arm wrapped around her waist.

“It was pretty good, it’s kind of chilly, so that’s pretty much my reasoning for coming back so soon.” You weren’t technically lying, it was still winter, so the chill in the air was in its full bloom.

“Come join us munchkin, there’s plenty of room on the couch,” Sebastian said as he waved you over, giving you a smile. Little did you know, he was trying so hard to figure out why you were being this distant, any other time he was with you, he couldn’t get you to leave his side. But this time, it was different.

“Okay, sure.” As you sat down, you realized that this could be a good thing. If Sebastian was truly serious about this relationship, the least you could do is get to know her. “So, Alejandra, what do you like to do?”

Once your mom called you all into the small dining room for dinner, you felt much better about your new acquaintanceship with Alejandra. She seemed like a good match for Sebastian, but you still couldn’t get rid of the nagging thought in the back of your mind that Sebstian was leaving you for good. Throughout dinner, you noticed that he kept looking in your direction, likely trying to determine what was going through your head. You tried to not make it obvious, but he could tell something was off.

“Dinner was wonderful, thank you so much Mrs. L/N,” Alejandra said as she went into the kitchen with your parents, insisting on helping with cleaning up and washing the dishes, leaving you and Sebastian alone in the living room together.

“So, something’s up, what’s the deal? You normally don’t leave me alone when I’m here with you, now I can’t get you to talk to me.” Walking over to your seat on the small bench next to the tree, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and looked down at you.

“Everything’s fine, I don’t know what you mean Sebby. Or is that her nickname for you now?” You asked, a small tear rolling down your cheek.

“Is this about Alejandra? Do you not like her?”

“No, I really like her, she’s great. I just, I-”

“If you don’t like her, don’t lie to me and tell me you do. I need you to be honest with me Y/N, I’m dead serious.”

“I don’t want to lose you, okay! You’re the one I grew up with, not only my cousin but you’re my best friend, Seb. I just don’t want you to forget about me, even though that’s the lamest thing ever. But I saw her with you and I didn’t want to ruin it, cause she’s meant for you. And I know you guys are gonna go off together all over the place and probably make your own Christmas tradition and I won’t be there and-”

“Woah, slow down Y/N. I’m not gonna forget about you, do you think that I’m gonna forget the girl who I’d ride around with for hours on end in the middle of the night? The one who I constantly threw into the water at the beach? The person that I spent the entirety of my childhood with because I literally lived three houses down? There’s no way in the world that I would forget you. Just because I’m with Alejandra doesn’t mean that anything’s going to change, okay?”

“I-I’m sorry for t-taking it that far Sebby, I just-”

“Hey, no crying. Not while I’m here, that is. Take it to the tree,” He mentioned, causing you to giggle. “Whatever tradition we end up coming up with, it’s never going to make me miss this, because this time of year with you is the one thing I always know that I can look forward to. And I’m never going to leave you behind, we’re always going to be texting and calling back and forth, I already know it. And I’m sure I’ll be able to pull some strings and get you to set a time or two.”

“Then I can see your boyfriend. By the way, how has Evans been?” You asked with a laugh, Sebastian giving you an eye roll along with a smile.

“He’s been fine, but he’d be mad if he found out you were mad about this.”

“I’m not mad, I’m just being my wonderful, overthinking self.”

“I know she came in with me unannounced, and that’s my fault. And I could tell you were upset about this over dinner, so I got you a little something. Feel free to open it.”

As you got off of the bench and looked under the tree, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty for your actions, despite the reassurance that flooded through you. You knew she was nowhere near a bad person, you were just getting in your own way.

“You wrote me a letter, how nice of you. Maybe I’ll buy you a postcard next Christmas,” You sassed, looking at the paper and beginning to read it in your head.

“No, use your voice and read it. That was my point of writing this, you know.”

Standing behind you, resting his hands on your shoulders while reading the letter to himself, you began to read it out loud.

“To my munchkin Y/N: I know that you are mad about me bringing Alejandra to stay with us for the week. But, when else would you have gotten the chance to meet her? All I ever talk about is the stupid stuff we’ve done growing up, and she really likes you. I can tell that you feel like I’m going to stop caring for you, and that’s a total lie. I’m always going to care for you, you’re like the sister I never had, but better. Everything we have done is never going to leave me, and I will never leave you for as long as I live. I got you a little present to cheer you up, but it isn’t anything physical. I was thinking long and hard about what to get you, and then it finally hit me. There’s one thing that always makes you happy, so I gift to you a visit from...the tickle monster.”

Unable to say the last few words, a strong blush immediately rose to your cheeks while Sebastian dug into your sides. Falling off of the bench with a loud shriek, Sebastian took this as the perfect opportunity to straddle your waist, continuing his torture on your sensitive skin.

“SEHEHEB NOHOHOHO!!”

“But you need cheering up, munch! I’m just trying to help you!” Seb yelled over your laugh, gently scratching his fingernails along your stomach, your laughter turning to giggles. “See, I’m not torturing you.”

“Buhuhut you ahahARE PLEHEHEASE!” The giggles soon turned back to laughter, which turned silent as he began drilling his fingers into your ribs, making sure to add extra pressure in between each one. Your arms shot down in an attempt to protect yourself, but that was a failed effort, as it only added to the ticklish sensations coursing through your body.

“Please what? Please continue? I’m happy to oblige!” Turning himself around on your waist, he lifted one of your legs, despite the desperate kicking you provided, beginning to brush the fingers on his free hand along the underside of your knee.

“PLEHEHEASE IHIHIHI YIEHEHELD!!”

“Do you promise that you’ll stop being a grouch?”

“I wasn’t beheheing grohouchy,” You answered, the strong laughter turning to light giggles as he lightly dragged his fingernails along your waistline, having turned back around to leave your sensitive knees alone.

“If you’re sure, then I’ll stop.”

“I’m sure.” Finally removing his fingers, Seb quickly removed himself from your waist, offering you a hand to help you off of the floor. Accepting his hand, he pulled you up while wrapping you into a hug.

“Y/N, I promise that I’m never going to leave you, okay? I would hate myself more than you know if I ever did that. I can’t live without you, you’re the best family friend that I’ve ever had.”

“Ah, combining the titles, how slick of you,” You joked, receiving a playful glare.

“Watch it, or I’ll tickle you again with no hesitation.”

“Noted. Thanks for being here for me Seb, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Probably live a long and boring life.”

“You’re probably right. Ready to keep celebrating the holiday?” Looking into his eyes, you saw the childish delight you both managed to keep, giving you the answer before he even said anything.

“Always. Let’s open these presents!”

#ticklish reader #tickle fluff #mcu tickle #marvel tickle #sebastian stan x reader #Sebastian Stan x reader tickle #Sebastian Stan x ticklish!reader #ler!sebastianstan #lee!reader

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smoochkooks · 4 years ago

Text

—chapter one: the beginning of an end

this is a part of my an ode to a broken heart drabble series.

pairing: jeon jungkook/reader

genre: unrequited love, best friends to (?), heavy angst, future smut

word count: 1.4k words

summary: loving jeon jungkook is, above all, the beginning of an end.

previous || next

You’re positive your favourite sound in the whole world is the rhythmic, repetitive sound of your fingers tapping on the keyboard.

Everyone has a different approach when it comes to coping with stress and anxiety. Some people drink away their unwanted emotions, some drown themselves in work, some watch yet another, mediocre Netflix show. But your solution, your little panacea has always been writing.

You’re not the best when it comes to expressing your true feelings. You can struggle with saying ‘I love you’ to your mother and then write a long, affectionate letter for her birthday that makes her eyes turn glossy. You may stutter and tumble on your own words while trying to order coffee and then complete academic essays with ease.

Whenever you feel like you’re overwhelmed, boiled up with mixed emotions, you do exactly what your school counselor told you many years ago: you let it out. She never mentioned any specifics, simply encouraging you to find your own way. And that’s exactly what you did – you picked it up yourself. First, it was writing a diary. No less than two weeks into it, you got bored. Turns out describing in detail every single mundane day of your life was never your forté. You threw away your old notebook, bought a new one and decided to write there whenever you felt like you really wanted to, not out of obligation.

And you continue to do so, these days you opt for a use of modern technology often. You open your laptop and pour your feelings onto a digital sheet of paper. It’s cathartic, in a way. Getting rid of what you feel like is weighing you down.

Jungkook however, your dearest best friend, has always been on the other side of the spectrum. Loud, obnoxious, a life and soul of the party who happened to miraculously befriend the most quiet introvert in class. Sometimes you still wonder how your friendship has managed to survive almost twenty years. You’re two polar opposites. Fire and water. Storm and chilly breeze. A confession screamed in the middle of the night and handwritten love letter.

You’re a dichotomy. Made of the same atoms, pulling in and pulling away. And if the phrase ‘opposites attract’ held any significance, maybe you would’ve ended up together. But in your case, it’s yet another platitude. Something that seems to work out only in books and movies. Because, if that was true, he would never fell in love with a female version of him, just graced with a sprinkle of pure sweetenes Jungkook sometimes lacks.

Soojin is everything you will never be. Polite, outgoing, sociable and so likeable you hate yourself for despising her. Truthfully, there’s nothing bad you could say about her. No wonder he’s fallen head over heels for her, not you.

What’s there to love about you, if you willing chose to pin for a boy that’s so out of your league? It’s actually hilarious to even dream about him returning your feelings.

You stare at the screen with half-lidded eyes. The clock reads quarter past midnight, letters start to blur into nothingness. Yet another chapter of your miserable life is completed as you save the document and slam your laptop shut. You don’t bother to shower or take off your clothes. Sleepiness hits you right when you close your eyes.

You dream of wedding halls and never spoken love confessions.

You read once on Twitter that being an adult means checking your e-mail as a part of your morning social media routine and since then, you haven’t quite related to anything more in your life.

At the very top of your inbox there’s yet another e-mail from your Creative Writing proffesor, Kim Namjoon. He’s a very stubborn man, you decide, as you scroll through the contents of his message. He still wants you to consider what he told you a few days ago after class, it seems.

“Miss ___? Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure.” you replied and awkwardly walked up to his podium.

You might have been madly (and miserablely) in love with your best friend, but Kim Namjoon has never failed to make you feel like a silly teenager with a crush on her older teacher. To say Kim Namjoon was intimidating was an misunderstanding. His presence was thoroughly electrifying. You remembered a very disappointed sigh the girl sitting next you let out when she noticed a ring on his right hand. You couldn’t judge her. His wife had scored probably the finest man on this damn planet.

“I read your latest assignment and I must say, your novelette was outstanding as always. Dare I say the best among others,” Namjoon said. You bowed your head in acknowledgement, praying he wouldn’t notice your rose-colored cheeks. “Regarding that, I actually have a proposition for you.”

At that, your eyes widened. “What kind of proposition, sir?” you asked.

He picked up a sheet of paper from his desk and handed it to you. It was a flyer, you realised, and read it through quickly. VARIETÉ Publishing was organising an annual contest for young poets, which you had heard about before. Your English Literature proffesor mentioned it during her lecture a week ago. However, poetry had never been your strong suit. As much as you enjoyed reading it, you weren’t really fond of creating your own poems. So why did Kim Namjoon decide to tell you about this all of a sudden?

“I know what you might be thinking right now, but I’m not actually encouraging you to take part in this competition,” As he smiled, two dimples appeared on each side of his mouth. “Do you know anything about VARIETÉ Publishing?”

Slightly confused, you gave him a nod. “It’s one if the biggest publishing companies in the country.”

“That’s very much true,” Namjoon agreed. “VARIETÉ's vice-chairman, Lee Jongi, is actually my old friend. We used to study together here, at this university. When I chose a teaching career, he got a job in a foreign publishing company, climbed up the ladder until the very top and now he’s vice-chairman and I’m a simple college professor,” He chuckled. You were too stunned to form a coherent response let alone laugh along with him. Lee Jongi and Kim Namjoon being buddies? It was a small world, after all. “Jongi has always been very fond of young, aspiring writers. When I discover a student with huge potential, I send him their works. If he finds them interesting enough, he might even take a risk and propose a publishing deal. This doesn’t happen quite often, but I want you to know that you have a pretty big chance to impress him.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed because holy fucking shit, did he just say he can help you publish your first book?

“I don’t know what to say, sir. I’m shocked.” you responded truthfully. You had heard people complimenting your skills before but this was extraordinary. “Let me just process all of this: you know personally VARIETÉ'S vice-chairman and you want to show him my works?” Even said out loud, it still sounded surreal to you.

“Correct. But of course, I won’t do anything without your consent.” Namjoon said. “That novelette you sent me recently was amazing. I’d love to show it to Lee Jongi one day.”

The task was to incorporate a hidden, symbolic message into a story. You decided to use your favorite flowers, magnolias, and its meaning. They represent eternity, because once they bloom they will continue to bloom for a long time. In your story, a girl gave her best friend magnolia's seeds, wishing her love for him to be everlasting. A day later, she received a pack of seeds from the boy as well. She happily planted them in her garden and when they bloomed, she discovered they were yellow tulips. A symbol of love that will never be reciprocated.

“You make people feel things with your words, ___, and that’s a very rare gift,” You heard Namjoon add. “Promise me you’ll consider my proposition.”

There was thousand thoughts per hour running in your head, but you gave him a curt nod. “I’ll think about it.”

As you’re staring now at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard, you think about the girl whose only dream was to be loved by her best friend. Maybe it’s finally time for you to move on. Bury the past and plant a seed of new life. Because, loving Jeon Jungkook is, above all, the beginning of an end.

With shaky hands, you start writing a response to your proffesor.

#jungkook smut #btswritingcafe #ksmutclub #bangtanarmynet #bangtanhq #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #an ode to a broken heart

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honey-hippie-harper · 3 years ago

Text

In-Laws Being In-Laws (Re-upload)

Hiii!

So, this is basically an old fic, which I deleted from my other account ( @dawniebb ) and was requested to be uploaded again.

This feels like a lifetime ago afgshjka, but I remember it was written for a Renegades content swap event, and it was for @healing-winston-pratt (hello, wifey!). The prompt was, basically, Nova and one of the Renegays being in-laws, and it was super fun to write! <3

If anyone’s reading this: Hi, you’re a beautiful human being, and I love you <3

In-Laws Being In-Laws

Dear Dread Warden,

I am not quite sure you will get this message because it is been a while since I last used my communicator but, in case you do: I hope you are having a nice morning.

The reason I am writing you this is that, as you must already be aware, right now Sketch and his teammates are taking part in the Annual Renegade Convention as special guests to be awarded for their heroic participation in the Second Battle for Gatlon. Hence, they are out of town. Due to my temporary resignation from the team, I declined the offer to attend the event and, for instance, to receive an award. This means that, unlike theirs, my routine remains the same as usual.

Unfortunately, I must see my therapist for my weekly appointment in two hours, and after that I will have to go to the supermarket to pick up some groceries and essential items. Under normal circumstances, given the nature of my relationship with Sketch, he would have driven me to the supermarket and then back to my apartment, as it happens to be located sort of far from the store and it could be pretty difficult for me to walk while carrying all those bags. However, as mentioned before, these are not normal circumstances and Sketch is not currently available.

I reach out to you with no intention to cause trouble; for instance, if I happen to be asking too much or disrupting your schedule (As I am conscious you are a busy person) and you consider you will not be able to help me, I assure you I completely understand. But: Could you pick me up from my therapist's office and take me to the supermarket afterwards?

I apologize for the inconvenience and I promise I will make sure this does not happen again. In addition, I also apologize for the alliteration in the greeting at the beginning of this message. I did not know whether you wanted to be acknowledged by your real name or your alias.

Sincerely,

Insomnia.

-.-

Hi, Insomnia!!!

So nice to see you!... Or should I say read you! Ha! It's been so long, it almost feels like an eternity! I hope therapy is going great! (We're all really proud of you!)

It doesn't bother me at all, sweetheart; of course I'll help you with that. Could you share the location of your therapist's office, please?

Oh, and also: What time do you want me to be there? (Not that I have anything to do today, I just want to be on time).

I'm excited to see you! Can I take you to eat something afterwards? How does that sound?

Take care!

(Agh. I forgot these things don't actually allow you to write your real name).

-S i m o n.

(Better).

-.-

He spotted Nova way before parking. She was sitting on a bench outside the building, staring anxiously at her phone. The body language of a nervous person.

Simon stopped the car right in front of where she was, and when she realized he was already here, Nova jumped out of her seat as if it had burned her skin, before jogging in an awkward manner towards the car.

Once she was inside, Simon couldn't help but feel a twinge in his stomach. He wasn't lying when he told her he was excited to see her. In fact, he was more than excited, and he had to hold himself back pretty hard to avoid hugging her, because it was evident she didn't want to be hugged right now, for she just directed a tiny smile at him and said:

"Hi."

She was the same Nova he had met some time ago, but at the same time she was different; she was wearing sneakers, skinny jeans and a basic white v-neck shirt; her hair was a little longer, too, to the point she could tie it in a cute little ponytail; Simon could tell she wasn’t wearing any makeup, but still her face looked healthier than before; less tired, with smaller under-eye dark circles and lips covered in chapstick. Finally.

She looked alive. More than before.

“Hi.” He finally responded.

Watching people get better was always satisfactory, but watching Nova get better was different. He had grown to appreciate her, since the very first moment he saw her with Adrian; since the very first moment he spoke to her and saw nothing but utter heartbreak in her eyes. Nova was hurting, and any sensitive person would’ve noticed that. So, watching her get better was a touching experience for him.

“You look so…”

Nova interrupted him almost immediately.

“I know. I...I barely had time to fix my hair. Gosh. It’s so uncomfortable and I want to cut it but I haven’t had time. I…”

“Oh, no, no, no! Your hair looks gorgeous! “ He chuckled, although he was confused by her reaction. “I was gonna say you look really good. Really, really good. The ponytail looks great on you.”

Nova gulped as she adjusted said ponytail.

“Oh.” She muttered in a hoarse voice. “...Well...Thank you. I thought…”

“No, no.” Simon waved his hand. “You look great. How.... how are you?”

She seemed to be processing the question, even though it was not that difficult.

“I’m…” Nova cleared her throat. “I’m doing great. How are you? How’s ...life going?”

“Absolutely great!” Simon smiled, clapping his hands together. “Things at home are great. You know, Hugh’s not currently here due to the Annual Renegade Convention. Adrian’s not here either (for sure, you already know about that) and Max…”

“Max went too, yeah.” Nova smiled. Her eyes seemed to brighten to the mention of Max’s name. Adrian had mentioned this fact about her a couple of times: Nova was fond of children. And even if she wasn’t, she had a tendency to protect and care about them. Since she had this type of strong personality, Hugh refused to recognize that as a truth, but Simon had no trouble believing it.

It was adorable.

“He called me when he got the invitation. He was eager to go.” She continued. “Which doesn’t surprise me. I...It’s his first time travelling, right?”

“Oh, yeah.” Responded Simon. “We’re planning to go on vacation this year. Because, you know, the convention’s being held not too far away from Gatlon and sadly he’s probably gonna get bored.”

“Bored?” Nova shifted herself in the seat, awkwardly. “Why?”

“Well...those conventions are...well, conventions.” Simon shrugged, smiling at her. “There are a lot of speeches, one after the other and, sure, the guests that represent Gatlon can skip some of them, but others are mandatory and they’re like 2 hours long and it’s so boring and…”

Nova hissed, grimacing, to which Simon nodded in agreement.

“I’m glad I didn’t have to go.” He admitted. “Though I do wanted to be there when Adrian and Max received their award. Too sad.”

Nova tried to speak a couple of times, until she finally had found the correct words to said her thoughts out loud.

“Why...why didn’t you go, then?”

“About that.” Simon chuckled. “Tamaya is going to be there too, as a speaker. And she’s also receiving an award. So...somebody had to take care of the Headquarters and Kasumi and I were left with that responsibility. However, it’s been pretty peaceful, as you may have noticed.”

“I have.” Nova nodded. “Not that I...go out very much, but yeah. Things have been calm.”

“People are behaving for once. And it’s awesome.” he sighed.

Then they stayed in silence. For a while.

Nova stared out the window, avoiding eye contact, while Simon whistled as he tapped his fingers on the wheel.

Not a word. No small talk.

Nothing.

“Sooooo…” Said Simon. “Shall we go?”

“Perhaps we should.” Nova said, immediately, as a flash of relief crossed her face.

So Simon smiled at her once again as he turned on the engine, while Nova put on her seatbelt next to him.

-.-

It took her so little time to come back Simon confirmed she was one of those people who would strategically write their shopping list so they wouldn’t be going back and forth through the aisles. It also surprised him that, being a person so young, she was so...focused on everything.

She really had only bought groceries and essential items. No junk food. No silly things she swore she would need and then she didn’t. Not even candy from the checkout area.

Simon hurried himself out of the car to help her put the bags in the trunk, but once she saw him and guessed his intentions, she quickly said:

“It’s okay. I can do it.”

“I know you can.” He clarified. Because, well, she indeed was a strong person. “But maybe you could use some help. That’s...a couple of bags.”

“Yeah. I know.” Nova nodded, already carrying the first two of the bags. “But I can do it. Please. I’m already causing you too much trouble.”

Simon was yet again confused by her reaction, and he tried to talk to her about it. But just like Nova looked like she didn’t want to be hugged right now, she also looked like she didn’t want to talk about it right now.

So he just opened the trunk for her and held it in case it would go down by its own. It had never happened, but just to be sure. Sometimes Simon’s anxiety made him overanalyze some situations.

Less than 10 minutes had passed by the time Nova finished putting all her stuff in the car, Simon figured she was still training, since she was as agile and fast as she was the day she notified them she would be taking some time off from the team and the Renegades in general.

They got in the car again, and before the silence could get as uncomfortable as the previous one, Simon took the initiative to speak.

“I think...you forgot to answer a part of my message.” He said, carefully. “You know...the part where I told you that maybe we could...go to a restaurant or something?”

Nova’s face, ears and neck turned so red she became a human-shaped cherry, and although in other circumstances he would’ve considered it adorable, this time he couldn’t help but feel sympathy for her. He had been there and done that many times; the messages Nova had sent were peak odd. The type of messages one would overthink over and over again because they had to be perfect. And if something, anything sounded off after you sent it, your world would be in shambles.

So he just smiled to assure it was okay. That he didn’t mind. That those messages didn’t have to be so formal in the first place.

And that, obviously, didn’t work.

For his experience, it never did.

“I...I...Yeah.” Nova scratched her brow. “Pretty much I...I...can recall not knowing how to word that so I just left it blank and I...must’ve forgotten to…”

“Nova.” Simon said, softly. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“Did I...offend you or something?”

“Absolutely no!” He said. “Why would you think that? It’s just a slip. I know it wasn’t your intention and to be honest I still want to take you to eat something so...yeah, there’s no reason to get weird about this. There’s no need to worry.”

Nova took a deep, hasty breath. She was flustered, son Simon tried to keep her calm; to make her feel like she was in a safe environment.

Why wouldn’t she be, in the first place?

She was his son’s girlfriend.

Why would he want to hurt her or make her feel bad?

“Nova, darling.” He said again. “Do you have something on your mind?”

“I do.” Nova cleared her throat, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t really...can eat out right now. I barely manage to afford my groceries, you know? It’s been…”

“But you’re not gonna pay your own bill. I mean, why would you do that?” Simon raised an eyebrow at her, genuinely confused, but still laughing nervously. Sweet rot, who had hurt this child so much? “ I’m the one who’s taking you to eat. You wouldn’t have to…”

“You don’t have to either!” She snapped. Not mad, but rather distressed, while breathing heavily.

Simon went still, afraid he would make it worse. Still, he couldn’t leave it like that, so he gulped and, once he reunited enough courage, he dared to speak again.

“What’s really on your mind, Nova?” He asked, this time in a more soothing voice. Nova’s whole being went red again, but the shadow of confusion in her expression was noticeable and hard to ignore. For this reason, Simon decided to provide some kind of scaffolding.

“For example: Why would you write a message that is directed to me in such a formal way?” He asked, patiently. “Why would you ask me to pick you up as if you were asking me to help you commit a crime? Why would you act so uncomfortable around me when it’s not the first time that we’ve met? Why would you…?”

“Because it’s you.” Nova answered, avoiding eye contact.

And he expected that answer, yes. But, at the same time, he expected to understand the statement once it slipped out of her mouth.

However, he didn’t.

“Can you elaborate?” He requested.

Nova clicked her tongue as she rubbed her neck, staring at the dash right in front of her.

“...I can disappear if you want me to. Would that make you feel more comfortable?”

“No. No, no.” Nova nodded, waving her hands, finally looking at him. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Then...would you tell me what’s wrong?”

Nova thought about it. She squirmed in her seat. Gulped. Coughed. Squirmed again.

Then, playing with her own hands, she spoke.

“...I’m ashamed.”

“Ashamed of what…?” Simon tilted his head to the side. “Ashamed of who…? What exactly are you ashamed of? ...Dating Adrian?”

Nova flinched.

“I would never.”

A spark of pride illuminated his thoughts and his insides in general, but Simon tried to pay little attention to it.

“I’m just...ashamed. Of everything.” Nova said, sighing. “I…”

And she cut herself in the middle of the phrase, realizing that once again she wouldn’t be able to finish it.

Simon didn’t realize he was frowning until he felt the muscles of his face slowly giving in. He understood.

And he knew that anything that had happened during the Second Battle for Gatlon had been her fault. She might have contributed in some way but, at the end of the day, she was just a child.

A very confused and manipulated child who just needed someone to listen without twisting her words as they pleased.

“...I just think that...if I were you I wouldn’t like me either.” She wasn’t crying, nor did she sound like she was about to any time soon. There was so much resignation in her voice that her words weighted as much as a giant rock. “Hugh gave me his blessing to...you know, date Adrian…”

“I can recall giving you my blessing too.”

Nova tripped on her own words.

“I mean, you did. You both did.” She said. “But still… It’s because… because you want him to be happy. And I get it. I really do. And I understand because, like I said, I wouldn’t like me either...I know I am loved. I know I matter for some people...but I also know I did...bad things, and I carry this sort of cursed last name…”

She stopped and breathed for a second before continuing.

“And I…” She finally looked at him. “I get it. You don’t have to pretend you like me, after all that happened. After I stole stuff from your house; infiltrated into your system; caused a terrorist attack...You really don’t have to pretend.”

Simon blinked, and if it wasn’t for her specific and controlled body language, he would’ve thought she was making excuses or even joking.

But Nova was telling the truth.

And it was heartbreaking.

“Perhaps you should think outside the box and picture a scenario in which you realize we’re not pretending.” That’s the only thing he said.

“Perhaps you should realize that we love you and you matter to us.” He reached for her hand and softly touched her knuckles. Her hands were shaking. “And that, yes, we want Adrian to be happy, but we also want you to be happy.”

Nova’s eyes seemed to be covered in crystals, but she remained in silence.

“You’re part of this family now, Nova.” He smiled. “And I’m sorry, but you’ll have to deal with that.”

Nova sniffed, swallowing, while lacing her hand into Simon’s.

“Artino and everything?” She muttered.

“Artino it’s not what defines you.” Simon chuckled. “You’re Nova. Just Nova... And we’re really proud of you. Not ashamed.”

She smiled back at him, wordless, and Simon gave her a quick handshake before putting his hands around the wheel.

Because even now, that her walls were crumbling right before her eyes, she didn’t look like someone who wanted to be hugged at the moment, and he accepted and respected that.

“I was planning to take you to my favorite restaurant, but maybe we can prepare a homemade meal instead?” He suggested. “You know? In-laws being in-laws? … Not to brag, but I make the best lemon pie in the world.”

Nova chuckled. Relaxed.

Happy.

“Sounds great.” She said, nodding.

“Excellent.” Simon turned on the engine.

“Let’s go home.”

#renegades trilogy #marissa meyer #dawnie writes #Simon Westwood #The Dread Warden #Nova Artino #Insomnia #Dawnie re-uploads saga #i love being a clown #no nomás tengo la cara de pendeja también soy JAJAJAJAJAJAJAAJAJAJA #this was before hcttr ruined my life #good times

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yeoldontknow · 4 years ago

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The Edge of Summer

Author’s Note: happy birthday @kyungseokie�� !! this has been sitting in my wips since january when i attempted to write this for his birthday. and that...came and went like a lightning bolt so here we are. im finally tossing this into the wild! wanted this up an entire hour ago but my internet died so T~T HAPPY BIRTHDAY I LUV U! Pairing: Kyungsoo x Reader (oc; female) Universe: this is an installment to the Did You See universe however Kyungsoo does not have a full story. this will be the only story centering on him | you do not need to read the other stories to understand, enjoy, or appreciate this one Genre: friends to lovers; fluff; romance; angst; au Summary: As summer comes to a close, your friends make the annual trek to the lake house for one last hurrah. You’ve done this before - countless times, but this year Baekhyun brings his new girlfriend along with him and this, of course, means some plans have to change. You just have no idea how much will change by the end of the trip. Rating: PG-13 Warnings: some strong language; a lot of lust; baekhyun being the worst wingman to exist; it gets pretty spicy by the end but like..only if you squint? just playing it safe yall Word Count: 13.1K

It is only when Kyungsoo’s hand falls delicately into his lap, fingers grazing your thigh with the aimless of touch of nonchalance that you decide:

If you make it out alive, you are going to kill Baekhyun.

Three hours into the road trip, and you think the conviction of this decision carries with it the bitterness of gunpowder and the relief of satisfaction, two distinct feelings entirely befitting the situation you have found yourself in. A five hour journey is long enough on its own, time blurring seamlessly around you in the close confines of a car - but, when pressed against Kyungsoo like this, against the strong muscles of his arms and thighs, feeling the heat of his warm skin radiating into yours, five hours is centuries of pining. These hours are too long for anyone to survive, the weight of yearning compressing your lungs into phantoms of their former glory, breath too quiet, and too slow, afraid of disrupting the fragile pretense of peace.

Being this close to him, this close to the embodiment of your pining, carries the same impact in your bones as a cataclysm, and so you grimace in dismay, silently aware that you might not even live to make good on your silent promise. Baekhyun will live another day and you will wither amongst the remainder of your desire, buried with yet another promise you failed to keep.

Somewhere in an alternate universe, you are happy, and this happiness comes easily. In a different life, you are comfortable, riding in Chanyeol’s car with him, his girlfriend, and Yixing, listening to the playlist Chanyeol had enthusiastically curated for the journey. You would be laughing, talking, teasing - or, perhaps, none of those things, instead luxuriating the jovial warmth that always seems to bloom in their company, the kind that overtakes you without warning, mind unfocused and hazy with thoughts of freedom.

Instead, your back presses into the middle seat of Junmyeon’s old car, knees and thighs aching with the effort of making yourself small between Kyungsoo and Yixing. Glancing to your right, you eye Yixing’s placidly neutral expression, his unfazed smile as he teases Sehun, reaching forward to ruffle his hair from behind the seat. Briefly, you envy him, his loud laugh and the way things are always uncomplicated for him - the way he always gives over out of love, even if he has the briefest moments of internal protest.

At 8AM, Baekhyun insisted he bring his new fling on this vacation. It was important, he said, his eyes pleading with you and Yixing, the puppy dog expression you'd grown used to fixed securely in his cheeks and pout. Chanyeol’s car would be the couples car, and so it was important he be there to set the mood. Yixing had eyed him amicably, biting the inside of his cheek with an endeared sense of amusement, complaining only because the plush seats of Chanyeol’s car were far more comfortable and because it would insight a brief riot in Baekhyun that served only to amuse him further.

And he conceded almost immediately, an ever supportive wingman, winking at Baekhyun before excusing himself to gather his things.

You, however, protested valiantly, arms crossed over your chest and heart unmoved. Baekhyun pleaded, promised french fry dates and to do your dishes for a week - even though he does not live with you, even though you actually enjoy doing your dishes, and, still, you protested, lips pursed and eyebrow cocked in disdain.

But, standing gracefully in the doorway, the sunlight gliding over his shoulders, craving an angle against his jaw you found almost holy, far too magnificent to be human, Kyungsoo laughed. The deep honey chocolate of his tone brought gooseflesh to your skin, teeth biting down on your tongue to keep your spine from trembling; your favourite laugh, and one he so rarely gives only to you. Behind him, Chanyeol’s tall frame lingered by his car, calling for anyone to get in so he could make his departure, and you think Kyungsoo’s bemused, affectionate smile is really what you agreed to.

Hours of his smile, even if it was put out, even if it was a barely there glimmer of fond annoyance, even if it faded almost as quickly as it came - this is what you agreed to.

Even if it meant letting your own heart break, and mend, and shatter once more, chest tight with the burden of proximity.

‘I can feel you looking at me,’ he mumbles, just softly enough that only you can hear the dulcet nature of his voice, teasing and sharp.

Shifting beneath your gaze, his arm nudges gently into yours, soft and supple and smooth, the cotton of his white shirt reduced to little more than rough muslin in comparison. He keeps his head turned as he looks out the window, one hand in his lap while the other holds his chin in its palm, trees and grass streaking past beneath an endless expanse of blue sky. Sunlight pours through the window onto him, casting shadows along his jaw and cheeks that somehow make the curvature of his lips ever more pronounced in profile.

Around you both, conversations live and die, the rippling cadence of Yixing’s laugh losing its edges as you continue to stare, unblinking, at the hard edge of Kyungsoo’s jaw.

‘Is there something you want?’ At this, he directs his attention to you, your dry mouth and unwavering gaze, hand still cradling his chin as he regards you expectantly.

His eyes move over you slowly, taking their time getting acquainted with your features in this light. You feel him where you never feel anyone - all over you, yet ephemeral and nowhere at all, this kind of touching a mystery that runs deep. In a single moment, he is both above and beneath you, walking over the map of your skin and treading just below the surface, the blood in your veins rushing to your heart in celebration. The air in the small car becomes thin, lungs tight and breath constricted. Your hands curl into fists, pressing nails into the muscle of your mount of Venus, but it is not in frustration or fear, rather, instead, the only way you know how to suppress this insurmountable adoration.

By stopping the surrender before it starts, you do not even have the choice to give in.

Perhaps, in the same life in which you are riding in Chanyeol’s car you are also bold, brave enough to give him the best words, the most beautiful words, the ones you keep perpetually beneath your tongue, waiting. How would he look in the aftermath of honesty? What smile would you be given? Would you even survive? You’re unsure, the aspects of such a reality hidden from you now, and so you swallow thickly, giving moisture to your voice to ensure you can speak, even if it is not entirely brave.

‘You’re blocking the window,’ you lie, surprised that you sound so confident, so calm, when the border between your bodies has been so ruefully challenged.

Eyes squeezing closed, they press into crescent moons as his cheeks rise up along the bones, and Kyungsoo laughs, genuinely amused by the absurdity of your statement. So unlike the booming force of Chanyeol’s laugh or the high pitched delight of Yixing’s, Kyungsoo’s low and deep giggle is a thunderclap in the center of your chest, an endless roll of electric pleasure along your nerves. The force of it has him jostling into your side, shoulders vibrating through the humor, and you feel yourself bristle, wholly unprepared. This moment of contact brings with it the absence of thought, the absence of protest, running far deeper than you imagined it could. In a single moment, your longing threatens to unmake you, wanting more of his pleasure, more of his joy, certain nothing is as sacred or magical as this.

Offering you a sardonic, yet amicable smile, he leans back into the seat, making himself as small as possible to take up the least amount of space. Tucking his arms into his sides, he moves away from the window entirely, and releases a hiss of breath through his nose. One eyebrow cocked in question, he pouts, the fullness of his bottom lip sticking out childishly.

‘Is this better?’ he asks through grit teeth, though his smile is tucked in the corner of his lips as a secret; dawn just about to break over the warm glow of his skin.

In this position, his shirt becomes constricted and stretched over his chest, shoulders, and abdomen, revealing the deep contours of his torso. The mid-morning sun casts him in gold, making a home of the pores of his skin and revealing amber flecks in the chocolate of his eyes. Immediately, your tongue becomes heavy, the taste of light filling your mouth, the taste of him and the heat of your unbridled wanting. Even with the smallness of space he has created, gaps between your bodies revealed where he has since retreated, the warmth between you both is a fire that refuses to die, and, in the aftermath of his simple question, you feel yourself flush.

‘Yes, much,’ you nod, hoping your expression is cordial and unmoved. Because it is true. You find you enjoy this view far more than the one before. ‘Now, if only you can stay like that for two more hours.’

Once more he laughs, enjoying your teasing banter as he relaxes into his previous position. All over again he relaxes into you, comfortable and content, strong muscles of his thighs vibrating into your legs as the car bounces over a bump on the highway. It frustrates you how swiftly the butterflies in your stomach wander into your heart as you watch him, stuttering in its rhythm as a stubborn reminder there is no escape, no fail safe to liberate you from this craving. If anything, the closeness you must endure over the length of this trip is only furthering your desire to shorten the ever present distance between your hearts.

‘Why did you give Baekhyun such a hard time this morning?’

His question interrupts your thoughts, words soft yet his tone carries with it a deceptive bite.

Narrowing your brow, you almost snort in surprise. ‘Because it’s ridiculous. Changing everything around at the last minute,’ you explain incredulously. ‘It’s ridiculous.’ Settling back against the hardness of the middle seat, you stare straight ahead, casting your unfocused gaze out beyond the windshield. ‘I can’t believe you’re even asking, as if you wouldn’t do the same.’

In the years you have known him, there has never been a moment where he allowed Baekhyun to get away with anything - not least without an argument or some form of protest. Moving Kyungsoo from one opinion to the next requires a fair amount of convincing and explaining, and, usually, results in his profound frustration until he gives over just to end the conversation. This morning, Kyungsoo said nothing, and his laugh, his smile, and his acquiescence is more out of place than your childish protesting.

Chuckling, he turns back to the window beside him, nodding slightly. ‘You’re not wrong,’ he muses in agreement.

Silence befalls you both, one that does not contain walls or barriers but is gratified. Kyungsoo comfortably nestles into his position, ready to maintain this pose for several more hours, and you turn to look at him, bewildered.

‘That’s it?’ He seems both completely satisfied with your answer and disinterested in continuing the conversation, and your mind races with a confusion so thick you think your hands could break it. ‘That’s all you wanted out of that?’

Tossing you a placid smile, he nods once more. ‘That’s it.’

Searching his face for answers, you translate his words over and over, breaking them down into their smallest pieces to grasp at what lies beneath. ‘Did you ask just to get a rise out of me?’

He keeps his eyes on the world outside, basking in the gold of daylight. It refuses to let him go, the sun, like always, pretending it is you.

‘Maybe so.’

It’s after you’ve dropped your bags in your large room, the one with the bay window overlooking the lake, that Kyungsoo asks you to help him make lunch.

You’re not entirely sure where the others have gone, and you find yourself in the open kitchen hugging yourself, looking around the mess for some way to busy your hands. Too many insulated bags and groceries line the counters, the chaos of them inciting a productive sort of stress, the kind that makes you ready to sort and fix, in your veins. Kyungsoo moves around the room with a confident ease, and for a moment you envy him; the answers already seem to live in his actions, not a single moment of question as he clears space and makes room.

Outside, you hear the deep baritone of Chanyeol’s gleeful howl as it heads towards the lake. Baekhyun’s voice follows, higher in pitch but just as eager, and in the silence of the room you hear Kyungsoo chuckling to himself. The smallness of his smile is betrayed by the light in his eyes, his own happiness a private paradise he shares only with those who choose to look.

And even before you had any control over it, before your mind could remind you that you value yourself and your solitude most, you had chosen him. You will always choose him.

‘Do you want to help me cut the vegetables?’

He doesn’t look at you as he asks the question, unloading the set of knives he brought for the week with careful motions. The silver blades seem to gleam in the midday sun, and you recognize them as the ones you bought for his birthday the year previous. He hadn’t asked for them, hadn’t even suggested you buy him anything, but as you passed the culinary shop window, mesmerized by their sharpness, their danger, their promise, you wondered - would they be a present or a plea? An offering of his happiness or yours, a moment of union between you both in which he would feel joy and you would be the cause of such magnificence.

They’re well worn now. Even from where you stand, you can see the streaks along the blades from multiple sharpening sessions, and as he holds them you can see the hidden strength that lives in his hands. His hands, rough and powerful, yet still more fine than sand and warm as maple. You have never told anyone about your admiration for the elegant length of his fingers, the peaks and valleys of his knuckles, and the way they seem to hold you, transfix you, satisfy you simply because they are proof beauty is not a face or a voice, but an art inherent to all things living. You suppose you will never tell anyone, his hands a poem for you alone.

Peering up at you curiously through the length of his lashes, he patiently waits for your answer and, for the second time today, you feel him. He is becoming an invasion, your defenses drawn down over the many hours beside him, the length of your thighs still tingling from his touch, and you are so aware of him the ripeness of this attention causes you to shiver.

‘Why are you asking me?’ you ask softly, taking a few tentative steps towards the island where he stands. Everything about your motions, your words, is careful, tender, mindful that this kind of question is fragile. ‘You never let people help in the kitchen.’

He stills as he lifts his head to appraise you, unabashedly taking you in and holding you under the ferocity of his gaze. Any other man and you would call this entrapment, but you are used to giving him everything, used to his penetrative stare and the way he always, without fail, seems to witness every flawed and contradictory piece you try to keep buried.

‘Because I want you to,’ he says, as if wanting anything is simple.

Aimlessly, you nod at his response, scanning the island counter as you approach with your arms hanging limply at your sides. You’ve surrendered to him without your own permission, but you are not terribly dismayed by this. He asks for help and speaks of wanting as though it’s an easy request, yet the tension at the back of his throat, minimal and almost imperceptible, implies this is something big and bold and frightening for him to say. For as long as you’ve known him, you both have been difficult, anxious, battling yourselves more than you battle the world around you, and so you do not comment on this ask - do not comment on the emotion of it - because you could still be wrong, and he could still take it back.

‘Aren’t you the one with the chef’s license?’ you tease, coming to stand beside him, unloading the food and organizing them into piles to be moved to their respective cupboards or shelves. ‘Wouldn’t my peasant hands ruin your julienne?’

‘Har har.’ The sound of his sarcastic laugh makes you blush, looking over your shoulder as you tuck unneeded cold things into the refrigerator. ‘And no,’ he continues once you’re beside him again, ‘I don’t need things to look pretty today, I just need them to taste good.’

Handing you a knife that fits perfectly in the palm of your outstretched hand, your eyes meet for a moment that is long enough to generate a spark. It blossoms within your blood, the mark of friendship and the mark of love blurring together the same way grief so often follows joy, weaving together to create something tender and something reverent. You look at him, and this moment feels eternal.

‘Besides,’ he mumbles, moving to guide a bunch of scallions, some tomatoes, and freshly peeled garlic on to the cutting board he has laid out for you. ‘Sometimes the most beautiful things in the room are the ones with flaws.’

Entirely unsure what to say to this, you simply bob your head with a noise of interest, a feigned motion of understanding. He does not seem to notice the way his words pierce you, cutting at wounds you have long since done your best to hide from him, and you are glad his smile endures. From the corner of your eye, you watch him carry on, cutting into an onion with little pomp and circumstance, the ghost of his words a phantom that chooses to haunt only you. Your hand trembles only slightly as you move the garlic into position, and you grip the handle tightly to keep your motions steady and even, gathering all your strength to root into the base of your joints.

Moments slip past you freely, moments where you are silent save for the deep inhalation of breath that fills your lungs as you watch him cut. Your friendship with Kyungsoo is still relatively new, in your eyes - two years on and still there are details of his life, his history, his character that elude you. Still, you know him well enough, likely somehow have always known, that he is complicated and oftentimes impossible, unfathomable, thinking too hard about every nuance and detail that colours his choices.

But when he cooks, when he is in the act of creation, making a whole reality to be touched and tasted with his bare hands, you find he has never been so certain of anything. As he turns the onion, halving it swiftly before quartering it, there is no doubt in his actions, no hesitation, and he seems to relax into this confidence, mind wandering freely because there is no room for its criticism.

‘To The Lighthouse or A Room of One’s Own?’ he asks, unprompted.

Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, you begin slicing the garlic into small pieces as you consider his question. ‘To the Lighthouse.’

You're unsure who started this game, the habit of asking one another questions on your preferences, something that feels so fundamental to your relationship you imagine it is genetic to the very fabric of its existence. It no longer matters who started it, you think, only that it has persisted without ever fading, something you look forward to whenever you're together. Baekhyun finds this game rather comical, often wondering why you even bother when you both know so much about one another at this point old topics must be rehashed. But each time, every time, he says this Kyungsoo simply looks at you with an expression that could stitch together the stars and you know, together, that he is wrong.

Even if a topic is revisited, the answer is always different. In this way, you ensure that you know one another and you still never stop knowing.

Kyungsoo hums at your response. ‘Why?’

This is yet another unwritten rule of the game: for whatever you choose, you must offer a quote or a reason, the one thing you cling to that makes the choice feel superior over the other.

Three months ago, he loaned you both these books, and you had finished them rather quickly. The day you returned them, your fingers grazed as he took them from you, the resulting tremor of this touch leaving your hands caught in a fire that would not cease for days. He didn't ask what you thought beyond if you'd enjoyed them. You suppose he'd been saving it for this moment.

Pressing your palm into the flat of the knife, you compress a clove of garlic and dig deep. You'd given your answer automatically, on impulse, and hadn't truly considered the fact that you must quote the line that made your breath catch and your very bones quake. It hits you now that he's read these words, felt this kind of swooning even if there is distance between your twin heartbreaks; eyes kissing the same page long after one another has departed.

‘It was not knowledge, but unity she desired,' you begin, focusing intently on chopping so as not to lose your will, 'not inscriptions on tablets, nothing that could be written in any language known to men, but intimacy itself - which is knowledge.’

His knife falters in cutting the onion, the blade slipping against the wood of the cutting board as you finish speaking. Glancing out of the corner of your eye, you watch the juice spread beneath his perfect slices, his lips parting slightly as he takes in a slow hiss of breath. Steadying himself, he gathers his composure and begins chopping once more, nodding in agreement.

It is your turn to ask a question, but you take this moment of silence to watch the light from the wide kitchen window nestle between his cupid's bow, understanding with your whole chest why the moon fought so hard to claim the sun.

‘Are you okay?’ you murmur, keeping your tone quiet and gentle, concerned yet distanced, not wanting to embarrass him.

‘Mhmm,’ he hums, flippantly avoiding the question.

‘Dexter or Supernatural,' you inquire, moving your pile of minced garlic to the corner of the board as you gather the bunch of scallions.

‘Dexter,' is his confident reply.

'Have these already been washed?' you divert, and he glances to your hands, nodding. Lining them up, you continue.‘Why?’

Sighing, he unwraps a large cut of fish from its paper packaging, considering his choice. ‘We all make rules for ourselves,' he quotes. 'It’s these rules that help define who we are. So when we break those rules, we risk losing ourselves and becoming something unknown.’

Amidst your meticulous slicing, you feel yourself bristle. In the choice between the two, you agree - Dexter would be your first choice. Yet, you had not expected him to pick this quote, this particular choice carrying with it the weight of your identity. Your understanding of yourself and your needs has always been wrapped up in these few lines, your desire for rules and control the very thing that allows you to relate to the world. Everyone you know finds things both disruptingly and disturbingly true about themselves through their relations with other people, through their relationship to their surroundings.

You relate to yourself and to them through the rules you have cultivated, based on your experiences of others rather than their integration into your life. You want to break free from this, aware that this is only yet another way you stand to complicate your understanding of everything, but you rely on it.

And, it seems, so does he.

He is soft and sensitive, and yet conversely so rigid, operating within his own rules. To step outside would be a great unmaking, and, for one blissful moment, you find there is no space between where you end and he begins. In this understanding, you are both slinking toward a new reality.

Glancing down at your cutting board, you pout. The scallions will be uneven.

Kyungsoo swallows with a low cough, clearing his throat. ‘Neruda or Siken.’

A wide smile blooms across your features, this question perhaps one of the easiest he has ever asked. ‘Siken.’

Using your knife, you push the chopped scallions to the top of your cutting board and slowly roll a few of the tomatoes down to the center. Your smile falters, already picturing the mess of squashed pulp that will come from this. Years of cooking for yourself, but still your hands are too heavy for delicate things. With a small sigh, you angle your knife over the ripe curve, the skin so smooth you think your knife might slide right off without any incision at all.

As you start to press your knife down, Kyungsoo stops you.

‘Try like this.’

Coming to stand behind you, he takes your hands in his, joining you in holding the knife and holding the vegetable, the touch from his fingers feather light and, conversely, heavy as steel. Your breath halts its journey in your lungs, blood too warm and stagnant in your veins, your heart faltering amidst this disruption. The heat from his chest radiates into your back, meandering down your spine and into your legs, all over your nerves until you wonder if there is anything left of you, any part of you he has not touched.

He makes being near him feel like a season, full years and days lived in the wake of a breath; your every breath heavy with him, and the things your heart yearns to offer him. Every second full of an exhale transmutes into the precipice of a life well lived, because he is there and smiling and sharing the world with you even if he is not sharing the ardor in your lungs. Kyungsoo is the fifth season, a season unto you, an oncoming wind between the border of summer and autumn, between the heat and the chill, neither a warming nor a cooling but a possibility of both all at once.

You know this. You have always known this. But, recently, in the days you find yourself absent from him, your heart unmakes the memory of these small euphorias, unpossessed and eternally lonely, unwilling to cling to that which it cannot keep. And so you are whelmed and unmade by the totality of him, forced, now, to stitch yourself into someone entirely new, someone who knows how it feels to be close.

He guides your right hand forward, easing the knife slowly along the tomato until the base is what presses into the skin, not the middle.

‘Why Siken?’ he whispers, and he is close enough his breath tickles at your ear, cascading down your neck and into your shoulder. He spills over you, and you tremble, knowing he feels you but he says nothing, polite enough to maintain your pride.

He asked you a question. You know he did, and it takes work finding words when he is doing his best to consume you like this, your eyes watching as he, and you, together, slice a tomato into thin circles. The rhythm he creates with your twin hands is steady, even, almost musical in the way you can anticipate the sound of it, and it grounds you just enough to remember you are about to give absolutely everything away.

If he does not know yet, if he has not known, you suppose he will know now. But he asked. And so you will tell him.

‘Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us,’ you whisper, matching the volume of his voice. You know he will hear you. You wonder if he will feel you. ‘These, our bodies, possessed by light. Tell me we will never get used to it.’

Kyungsoo eases the knife down one last time, and keeps it there, pressed against the cutting board as the slice drops mutely against the other pieces, the juice from the vegetable seeping deep into the wood. His thumb moves slowly over yours in small circles - you’d like to call them reassuring, but as he steps closer behind you, as his other hand moves his fingers over your knuckles, you wonder if there is any reassurance to be found here.

In love, in lust, the solidarity you have found in your hobbies and your, almost selfish, avoidance have dissolved, leaving you exposed to the full extent of his soul. No, there is no reassurance in this liminal space, the moment in which you will either become unbreakable or tragically unrecognizable threatening your very sense of self. Had you known when you met him that it would feel this way? Had you known that loving him would be not unlike a benediction?

The problem, you think, is that even if you had known, nothing would have stopped you. In every life, in every choice, you love him like a beginning and an ending, your heart incapable of knowing much other than craving him.

His hands drift away, peeling off your skin, slowly, as though he is reluctant to leave. Turning until his nose is tucked into the hair just above your ear, he inhales deeply, hands coming to over just above your hips. The energy between you is a live wire, your mouth running dry and your tongue coming to wet your lips, feeling yourself grow parched. Kyungsoo takes a long breath, filling his lungs with nothing but you, before he exhales and whispers into the shell of your ear.

‘Can you handle it?’

You’re not sure if he means the quote or the rest of the tomato, not sure if he means if you can handle this, with him, or the rest of your existence without him. You aren’t entirely sure of much other than the force of your attraction, the sheer power of it, and the way you think it will fuel your every thought until your bones become ash, this love a windmill in your chest.

‘I think so,’ you mumble in affirmation, glancing over your shoulder to offer him a small expression of encouragement, hoping you look convincing.

His eyes have grown dark, the chocolate of his irises tempered with an impenetrable black, and a flush spreads across his cheeks so warm and pink you would think he’s been sugared. Immediately, you regret seeing him, the lust in you becoming a sea, the swell of it so deep and so strong, you fear you might drown in it, in him.

‘Actually, I’m feeling a bit warm.’ Side stepping along the island, away from him and out of his orbit, your words are rushed and hurried. Running a hand through your hair, you look at him, pleading. ‘Are you okay to take it from here?’

‘Yeah, are you okay?’ he asks furrowing his brow, concern evident in his voice.

‘I’m fine,’ you nod, looking everywhere but his face. ‘It’s fine. I just need to dip my toes in the water to cool off. Text me if you need me to come back?’

He laughs, watching you affectionately as you turn away from him, heading to the sliding door that leads to the brilliant green grass of the back yard. ‘Okay,’ he calls, his voice following you out.

You know that he will not.

You know that there is a barrier that stands between grief and loving, a door to walk through in which there is a boundary between the knowledge of love and the acceptance of it. He opened the door. You stepped through, momentarily basking in the reverence of it, only to leave, shutting it behind you, likely forever, to wallow in the ever comforting loneliness of wanting.

‘Are you joining me?’

Chanyeol’s girlfriend sits on the dock, leisurely swinging her feet in the water as she cranes her face into the sun to watch your approach. Covering her eyes with her hand to block the sun, she offers you a curious smile as you slide off your sandals and sit heavily beside her. Leaning back on your hands, you let the sun warm your neck and chest in contrast to the cold lake water that laps lazily over your feet and midway up your calf, pressing your fingers into the rough oak. The water’s chill walks up your skin, soothing the tension in your nerves that lingers from Kyungsoo’s breath, smile, lips, and voice.

In the distance, Chanyeol’s laughter mixes with Yixing’s and Baekhyun’s. Just beyond their small circle, Sehun and Jun canoe in amusement, the paddling of their oars a relaxing rhythm amidst the chaos that surrounds them. Baekhyun’s new girlfriend swims close by, her laughter jubilant yet reticent, still testing the limits of her comfort. Eyes still closed, you tilt your head to the side, remembering how you felt the day you were integrated into this group - shy and uncertain, the closeness of the bonds surrounding you both frightening and awe inspiring.

Chanyeol made it easy, as he always does, but, strangely enough, Kyungsoo made it easier. Even without loving him, without the intense desire to be near him, you would have chosen his company over all the rest. He said your name like it was something special, like he was careful with it inside his mouth - like it mattered. He wanted your opinion on everything, wanted your thoughts, wanted your voice first. You’ve lost count of the parties, the gatherings, the movie nights, the drinking games, and as a result all the times you’ve wound up next to him, tucked into a corner just talking and just learning.

Kyungsoo made it easier than all the rest, simply because he demanded you at his side.

Opening your eyes, the light seems to sparkle in the places where it kisses the water, putting a glimmer against your skin.

‘How did you do it?’The words taste bitter and heavy against your tongue, and you find yourself grimacing as you speak.

Chanyeol’s girlfriend, the Countess as he likes to call her, turns to face you. You feel her eyes move over your profile, patient despite her confusion. ‘Do what?’

‘Tell him you loved him.’ Chanyeol dives under the water only to break through the surface behind Baekhyun, dunking him with a gleeful howl. Would it have been easier to manage your feelings with someone so vocal? Someone with such little restraint? Sitting up, you press the base of your palms into your eyes and release a mournful sigh. ‘How did you own up to it?’

‘Well, I didn’t have to do much,’ she laughs. Looking at her, the expression your features decide to wear feels plagued by uncertainty but she does not see you. Her gaze has drifted to where Chanyeol swims, to his broad form and his musical laugh, her own expression softened beyond measure. She smiles as she speaks, unbridled in her admiration. ‘You know Chanyeol. He’s the least discrete person and also not terribly patient.’ Tossing you a knowing grin, she giggles affectionately and you cannot help but laugh, her happiness naturally contagious. ‘The beauty of those things is he figures out what he wants immediately and then acts on it only after he’s decided it’s to his benefit. He’s very discerning that way.’

Humming, you glance down at your legs and lean back on your hands once more, pouting. ‘Did you know, though? All that time, did you know?’

‘No,’ she shakes her head. ‘I suppose, looking back, there were always signs,’ she concedes quickly, ‘but we’re so similar, I would go between thinking it was just our way of communicating and connecting to thinking it was flirting, but only when I was alone. When I was with him, I just wanted to enjoy being with him.’

‘How?’ You don’t mean to sound so incisive or desperate, but the feel of Kyungsoo’s hands still nestles deep within your skin, and you can sense him there even after he has departed. You are certain that you will spend the rest of your life with him pressing against parts of you long dormant and long ignored. ‘How do you do that? How did you not lose your mind being so close to him?’

‘That’s giving me far too much credit,’ she laughs, body jostling against yours in her amusement.

On instinct, as though the very sound itself is a siren call, Chanyeol ceases his movements and turns to see her, the teasing smile he’d been sporting with Yixing fading into one of contented devotion. In a single instant, the mere sight of her smooths away all his edges. There is something unspoken, yet eternal, lurking in the depths of his eyes, his yearning a boundless loyalty that declares her as his treasure.

‘I always wanted to be close to him, and I was always on the edge of my sanity. But..’ her speech dies slowly, voice tight with emotion. Considering her words, she holds his stare and refuses to look away, seemingly adrift with him. Instinctively drawn to him, she leans forward slightly, the bones and the core of her pulling her to him as best they can. ‘He makes me happy. In the purest, most simple sense of the word he makes me happier than I’ve ever been able to really...attain, if that makes sense.’

She looks away from him then, turning to regard you rather seriously. ‘Happiness has always been a choice I have to make, but it’s also something that is elusive.’ All too easily she adopts the austere tone she so often uses when giving you advice - words stern and slightly cold, though still doing her best to remain supportive and encouraging. ‘When I’m with him, he sustains it. I’m not stressed and I’m not anxious, I just get to be. You have no idea how unbelievably peaceful that is. If I spend my time with him overthinking, it rushes me to a feeling, to a place we don’t need to be in. I don’t want to overthink, I just want to be with him.’

She takes him in once more, all the tension seeming to leave her muscles as her eyes touch what her hands cannot, visibly comforted. ‘More than anything, I just want to be with him’

Fundamentally you understand her statements, your heart responding and reacting to the sentiment with little input from your mind. A language has started to develop within you, the kind that seems to be spoken by Chanyeol and the countess, a language that exists where words fail entirely. There are no words to describe the way you yearn for Kyungsoo, not a single syntax that could contain his grace, his imperfections, the breadth of his very soul. There are no words, yet you comprehend all of it - you feel all of it, the very act of this understanding a transgression against your sense of self.

Shaking your head, you groan, doing your very best to stay the same, to stay guarded. ‘That’s too much to think about.’

Chuckling, she pokes you in the shoulder. ‘I know this is about Kyungsoo.’

Waving her hand away, you hurriedly hush her with a loud hiss, looking to the group and back again. Running your fingers over your arm, you massage the slight pain with a small frown. ‘They might hear you,’ you whisper, aghast.

She snorts. ‘They’re too absorbed in whatever competition Chanyeol has created. And it’s not like this is a big secret. But okay. I’ll be quiet..er.’

The blood in your veins seems to chill, matching the temperature of the water at your feet. Eyes wide, you whisper, ‘People know?’

‘Yes,’ she nods, like nothing has changed, like this single fact is the most inconsequential thing in the world. ‘I’m pretty sure everyone knows, except for Kyungsoo which is shocking.’

With a groan, you fall back onto the dock. Heated by the direct sunlight, the wood sends heat through your shoulders and spine, an otherworldly compassion that does its best to ease your tension. Draping your arm over your eyes, you sigh. ‘Must you always tease me?’

‘Yes. It’s my duty.’ Patting your leg gently she offers little condolence, her voice a sarcastic lament.

In the ensuing quiet colours move amidst the darkness behind your eyes, sunlight infiltrating the small gap between your arm and the bridge of your nose, and providing a kaleidoscope of purple and green. Lilacs and lilies are carried in the rustling breeze, the opposite side of the lake decorated with a field of flowers, its tall grass and array of blossoms just as dense as the hunger in your blood. If you were alone perhaps you would weep over this, the inward nature of this secret desire fueled by the feel of his fingertips and his laugh and his breath on your neck - it is enough to consume the very heart of you, leaving nothing in its wake.

To give in to this would be to render yourself unrecognizable.

‘Have you ever wondered who you would be if you weren’t trying to think your way through feelings?’

A groan of discontent bubbles in your chest, her question simultaneously full of good intentions while still demanding you confront the change occurring within you. Like always, she insists that you take control of it, that you become a participant in your very unmaking - that you surrender to it, as though the only thing you must endure is yourself. How much of this can one survive, you wonder. How much of a person can survive the devastation of wanting?

‘That’s not entirely helpful.’ You know that you are whining - you can hear the cadence of your unease seep through the last of your syllables. But this cannot be helped, you think. Your great resolve has been terribly weakened.

She inhales, preparing to reply, only to be interrupted by the sounds of splashing water making its approach. Removing your hand from your eyes, you lean up slightly and squint through the changing light to see Chanyeol, his arms breaking through the water as he swims to the dock. Pressing his hands onto the wood, he lifts himself up to linger between his girlfriends legs, getting both you and she wet. You roll slightly to the side in surprise, doing your best to avoid more water getting on your clothes, but she just leans forward, the stars and the moon shifting through her eyes she takes him in.

‘My love,’ she giggles, kissing his nose. As she pulls away, he follows after her, leaning forward for more, but she is already looking behind him, brow furrowed. ‘Aren’t you in the middle of some kind of challenge?’

‘Yeah,’ he laughs, folding his arms on the dock and resting his head as he gazes up at her. ‘We’re trying to see who can knock Jun out of his canoe first.’

Cocking an eyebrow at him, you smirk. ‘Isn’t that dangerous?’

‘He’s got a life jacket,’ he shrugs, entirely nonchalant. ‘Anyway, I need a good luck kiss.’

Running her hands through his hair, she lets her fingers toy with the tips of his ears as she speaks. ‘You know you’ll win even if you don’t get one.’

His eyes flutter closed under her thoughtful touching, swooning into her orbit as he hums. They stay like this for a moment, awash and enraptured with one another. Their world is foreign to you, a place of belonging where they live only with each other, and more vulnerable and brave than you could ever comprehend.

When he looks at her again, there is a silent communion that passes between them, words and conversations living and dying on their breaths without any speech at all.

‘Still,’ he pouts, and she understands, instantly pulling him up as he raises.

The prelude to this kiss is just as intimate as the act itself, and you look away, gazing over your shoulder back to the house, back to where Kyungsoo cooks, alone and possibly lonely, abandoned because you have not yet learned how to truly hold the sun in your hands. In truth, you are too fond, too enamored, too lost in him to remember yourself when you are with him; and you are too comfortable, too in control of your emotions to forget yourself, remembering all your flaws and the way they will inevitably be highlighted, all the light in the universe culminating in him and illuminating everything, including you.

Chanyeol swims away once he is satisfied, and you swallow the words that have threatened to rise in the back of your throat. In considering Kyungsoo, you have once again considered the reality of love - they have made you consider love, and there is something easy about the conversation you had before he arrived, so you do your best to return knowing, depressingly, she will not let you escape.

‘You both are assholes you know?’ you tease, nudging her gently.

She watches him hungrily, lips red and swollen, before she looks at you once more, distracted. ‘I meant what I said.’

‘You’re not helping,’ you groan, exasperated.

‘Only because you want to apply logic to your feelings.’ Having collected herself once more, her spine straightens, words full of authority. ‘Sometimes, feelings don’t make sense and sometimes they just are. Who are you when you aren’t thinking about how you feel?’

‘I don’t know,’ you shrug, defeated. ‘I can’t know because I don’t even understand what you’re saying. What do you mean by don’t think about how I feel?’

‘Yes, exactly!’ she says, far too enthusiastic for such a non-committal answer.

‘You know I understand even less now, you know this right?’ you murmur flatly, looking back to the water.

Gaze unfocused, your friends are a blur of action far away from you. Their colours merge and mix while you try to surrender your conscious mind in favor of feeling. Every breath you take is full of him, every inhale and exhale an ode to the way you both see and feel him without ever looking at all. The first summer you met him, everything was pure happiness. July was oppressive in the way it kept you perpetually warm, but you thought you would forget him, that the feeling would fade - this kind of craving dies with summer, the twilight of the season bringing forth a reality too harsh for summer’s fruit.

But he has not left you. Not once. Not even a little.

‘How does he make you feel?’ she tries, taking a different approach to her questioning. ‘Don’t think about why you feel it, just think about what it is.’

To you, the question is inherently frightening, the tendrils of it dripping down into the cage of your ribs and tightening, finding all the places the ache in you is the most special and the most tender. The question is frightening, but it bears an even more frightening answer - a frontier and the unexplored desert of truth.

‘Safe,’ you admit, acknowledging, horribly, that while you are safe with yourself, you are, perhaps, even more safe beside him; his aura, a temple. ‘He makes me feel safe.’

When you look at her once more, you’re certain you are something pathetic, but she simply takes hold of your hand and squeezes it, the reassurance of her touch a threat to the dam of solitude locked inside your chest.

‘Then,’ she begins, almost too soothing and too sweet for you to stand, ‘the next time you’re with him, let yourself be safe and nothing else. I think everyone wants to know who they are when they’re safe, without question.’

The problem, you think, is that you have always known who you would be if you let yourself go. The problem, you think, is that you have known and done your best to spirit it away, aware that to feel as much as you do, about everything, would render someone monstrous.

To be free and open and safe with him is to be hungry - not the absence of yearning, but the sheer, irrevocable abundance of it.

'Listen, the Baroness needs your room.'

Baekhyun corners you in the hallway long after the sun has set. Cheeks flushed and eyes glassy, the wine from dinner and the beer from the fire pit still linger in his bloodstream, giving him the sort of dazed, sleepy appearance that usually makes you soften towards him. Leaning against the wall for support, his closeness allows you to smell the smoke and ash from the bonfire on his clothes, and if he had posed any other question, said, quite possibly, anything else, you would have ruffled his hair and given him a hug, wanting to be close to him.

Instead, you rear back slightly, so bewildered you are certain you have mental whiplash.

'What?' The word comes out quickly, more an exclamation of sound than an actual word. ‘The who?’

Baekhyun shrugs, sheepish. ‘You know how Chanyeol calls his girl the Countess, Jongin calls his Duchess.’ He sways as he speaks, a sign of his drunkenness or a sign of his shyness at the question, you cannot be sure. ‘I’m trying this one out for mine.’

Humming, you nod. ‘That’s very nice. And no.’

'Come on,’ he pleads, already starting to whine. ‘You can share with someone else, but she really needs your room.'

Crossing your arms, you mirror his pose and lean against the wall. The dim light of the hallway puts shadows under his eyes, making his expression look far more forlorn than it likely is.

'Absolutely not,’ you say, sternly. Twelve hours later and you are in the same position as this morning, protesting against the unfairness of his requests. ‘I paid for that room out of my own pocket. She can't just come on this trip and freeload. Besides, didn't you bring her on this trip to get laid? What are you going to do, astral project through walls?'

'No, not really, I mean maybe but not exactly,’ he stammers, doing his best to piece his argument together. Too tipsy to mask his meaning with the smoothness of words, all he can do is suffer the truth of his emotions. ‘It’s not exactly like that but I can't make it that obvious.’

Rolling your eyes, you sigh, exasperated. 'Baekhyun, it's already obvious.'

'Don't you know there has to be finesse to this?' The barely restrained emotion in his voice dismantles the playful tone he has done his best to adopt, the intensity of his desire not something to be trifled with.

But so too are you unafraid of a challenge, your mind already made up, your heart already enclosed in your room with the lakeside view.

'What are you, seven?’ you laugh, incredulously. ‘I think she knows exactly what you're looking for out of this, it's why she's here at all.'

'It's not that obvious,’ he pouts.

'Literally, why would anyone agree to go on a vacation with a bunch of strangers and one guy they only kind of know?’ you challenge, unable to fathom any other conclusion. Even in the beginning, when Chanyeol would invite you out, your proclivity for quiet nights at home always had you leaning toward spending the evening with a book until he would mention Kyungsoo’s name. The sound of the word alone would draw you out, his name dissolving the essence of your loneliness if only for one night. ‘She's here for the same thing as you, just get it over with.'

'I don't just want to fuck her!' he exclaims in a loud whisper, both your eyes widening at his admission.

In the aftermath of his outburst, there is a looming silence in which you are uncertain what else there is to be said. It weighs down on you, on your shoulders and on your heart, the uprising in him so unlike his usually soft and sweet demeanor. He has never been one for committing, never been one for avoiding what he wants either, and so this limbo between wanting her to be his while also keeping her at arm’s length puts a throb in the center of your temple.

Squeezing your eyes closed, you dig your nails into your arms. 'I'm so confused about what's happening here.'

'I really like this girl.’ It’s the most careful Baekhyun has ever spoken, as if he is just as perplexed as you by the sheer tenacity of his emotions. Hearing himself say the words seems to put a colour in his cheeks, deepening the shade of his blush beyond alcohol, beyond the kiss of the afternoon sun. Baekhyun grows almost weary in his relief, glad that he has said it out loud, to someone. ‘I don't want to just make it about that one thing.'

Resting a hand on his shoulder, you offer him a sympathetic smile. Over the years of your friendship, you have watched him fall in love several times a day, with so many different things, his heart an atrium that endlessly nurtures romance and affection. It’s rare for him to settle on one single person, and even more rare for him to act on it.

'I respect you,’ you say slowly, pressing your thumb into the strong flesh of his arm in solidarity, ‘but I still paid money for that room, so it's not happening.'

'I'll pay you back for it,’ he tries, starting to sober beneath your perpetual refusal.

'Baekhyun -'

'Kyungsoo's room has two twin beds,’ he blurts out in a rush, all his words condensed on a single breath. Feeling yourself pale, the axis of the world seems to shift beneath your feet, your vision suddenly blurred and unfocused, dizzy, and he takes your surprised silence as volition to speak. ‘It's like a pleasant surprise! You can share with him.'

Even in the dark, you can see the mischievous glimmer in his eyes, the sparkle of an ulterior motive lurking in the depths. It would not be the first time he attempted to be your wingman, would also not be the first time he would fail at such an endeavor, and your hand slides away from his arm, falling limply at your side. You watch him, slack jawed at the horror of it all, stomach dropping all the way down to your toes.

'Baek, no.’ It is your turn to plead, amazed your voice even makes a sound with how dry your throat has become.

'Oh, come on!' Baekhyun has the audacity to laugh, slapping your arm congenitally as if his encouragement is enough to placate you. 'I'm trying to help you!'

Sarcastically, you snort. 'You're helping yourself and clinging to the hope that it would ever be about me.'

Somehow immune to your admonishment, he simply wiggles his brow salaciously. 'You know you like the idea.'

'Fucks sake, I should never have told you about this,’ you hiss, crossing your arms over your chest once more. ‘I got drunk one time and now you think you can play matchmaker.'

Baekhyun sighs, shrugging his shoulders. 'Listen, I already told her she can have your room -'

Rearing back, you blink rapidly, appalled and bewildered. 'What the fuck?'

'And Kyungsoo already agreed to letting you stay in his,’ he continues, ignoring your seething disdain as though this is simply a negotiation about where to go for breakfast.

Blood rushing away from your cheeks, running to service your overactive heart, you simply stare off into the distance, beyond Baekhyun, beyond the house altogether, to a time in history when you would not have to spend the evening sharing his air. 'I hate this.'

'I know.’ It’s his turn to rest a hand on your shoulder, his expression somehow far less sympathetic than yours had been. ‘But if this is the only way for both of us to get what we want, then someone has to put some fire under your ass.'

Shaking your head, you do not allow him to come into focus, mumbling with scathing contempt. 'Wow, I actually hate you.'

'You move at a glacial pace.’ Assuming the conversation is over, he removes his hand from your shoulder and turns away, no longer giving you any opportunity to complain. ‘At least now we all can say we tried.'

Hurriedly, you follow after him, pushing off the wall and gathering the strength to move your things from your lakeside room to Kyungsoo’s, the phantom memory of his skin on yours awakening once more.

'Why are you still talking?’ you call after him.

But he just tosses you a sly wink over his shoulder, laughing to himself as he heads down the stairs.

‘I can hear you overthinking from across the room.’

The light from the moon creeps in through the sheer curtains covering the window, Kyungoo’s voice filling the space, dancing on the rays, with a tired rasp. He’s worn himself out - laughing, yelling, drinking. Somehow, the sound is thick and heavy, sinking down and deep into places long left untouched, your body wired by the sound of him alone.

'Just go to sleep,’ he chastises, turning over in his bed.

It is only the two of you contained in this small space, twin beds side by side, close enough you can hear his breath. Pressing your head against the pillow, your mind has become divided in two, living in two places at once - this moment, and your time spent with him in the kitchen, doing its best to rationalize the difference. Cooking with him, he was all over you, hands on yours and chest against your back as if he was learning how to make a home of you. It was different then, almost too tactile to comprehend but the sun through the kitchen and living room windows somehow made the world seem wide.

His touch had a distance, a space - even if you could not see it, you could sense it, the light finding its way through, reminding you there is a line between your body and his, a line between simply touching and truly feeling.

Now, in the dark, everything, even the gap between your mattresses feels close - too intense, too raw, to real. The darkness is oppressive, like that, a brief moment in time in which you are aware of the edge of things. Resting in the center of your bed, you are aware of the edge of your limbs, the absolute limit of your body. In the room, you are aware of the edge of your bed and the way there is just enough distance between yours and his for a single person to stand. In his bed, you are aware of the edge of his lips, and the way his breath cascades over them, facing the window to kiss the moon.

And you are aware of the edge of your resolve, threatened and thinned to breaking by the way the light casts him in silver, illuminating all the parts of him you find sacred.

‘You’re wide awake too,’ you say to the ceiling, not allowing yourself to see him. ‘I guess that makes us even.’ Biting your lip, you close your eyes and sigh. ‘I’m not the only one who can’t fall asleep,’ you finish quietly.

Kyungsoo laughs, warm and rich, utterly intoxicating, no trace of irritation in his words as he speaks. ‘Okay,’ he muses. 'How about this.’

You hardly have time to knit your brow together in thought before he begins singing, the rich honey of his tone turning the room into amber. He doesn’t often do this, a talent he likes to keep to himself. Sometimes, when he is drunk, he can be convinced to be the start of a song, not the result, but even this takes an equal amount of convincing as it does bottles of beer. But you have found, over time, that the talent itself is not so secret - hidden, but not entirely forbidden.

When he is with you, somehow you always hear his music, your ear always finding and listening to his voice first. You have found there is not a single moment he is without music, the way he speaks a melody unto itself, but when the sun goes down and the others go to bed, and it is just you and just him, and the dying embers of a fire that blazed too high, he sings with you.

He sings, often, just to make you smile.

'Oh, dear god, is that supposed to be better?' you laugh, skin tingling with adrenaline and a down turned corner of your cheeks as though you are saying goodbye to a time in your life when things were safe.

Kyungsoo interrupts himself, and even though you do not see him, even though you cannot yet bring yourself to look, you know he is beaming. 'I'm not going to stop until you sing along.'

He continues singing and the joy in you sets itself free, liberated like a terror. You would be frightened if this moment were perfect, would feel the world dissolve around you, his voice a nightingale leading you to perish. You would retreat from all of this, except -

'I hate this song,’ you sigh, flopping your arms atop the mattress to signal your unrest.

'I know,’ he persists, turning in the bed to face you. The darkness does little to hide the intensity of his focus. If anything, it feels heightened, the angles of your profile burning beneath his scrutiny. ‘But you know it.'

In spite of yourself, you close your eyes and let the bliss send shivers through your veins. When you are not looking, held in the darkness of your own making, your body becomes otherworldly, something entirely outside of yourself, someone you don’t recognize. How far have you crossed? What line have you transgressed and ignored, blithely meandering into the irresistible territory of passion? It’s all over you now, your smile full of teeth and your mind empty, save for his melody and the advice of Chanyeol’s girlfriend:

Who are you when you are not trying to think through emotion?

It happens in the limbo between who you are and who you want to be, the room suddenly a cathedral devoted to your wanting. With your eyes open, your love takes a verbal form, this voice yours yet better, enhanced and empowered, and you sing because you no longer can help it. Nowhere near as confident or stable in your notes, your voice does its best to hold onto the words, finding the center of the notes almost too late before it’s time to move to another, but, strangely, you don’t find yourself blushing. It is not, you think, that the darkness has made you less inhibited, rather that with a song you hate and a smile at your lips, you simply don’t have it in you to mind.

'There it is!' he celebrates, raising his arms off the mattress and clapping.

Pressing a hand to your forehead, your shyness in the dark somehow even more amusing, you cackle. 'God, this is terrible.'

Adjusting his pillow, he hums. 'Exactly.'

The aftermath of your twin voices seems to reverberate around the room, long after you both have fallen quiet, the echo bouncing off your skin. This kind of euphoria could only be brought by him - his intelligence, his stubbornness, his perceptive intuitiveness. With only the echo and the memory sustained, your breath becomes unsteady, reminded that this place, this room, will no longer just be a place but a sanctuary and you will no longer just be you, but you will, forever more, be his.

'Sometimes,' you begin, words a whisper that you know he will still hear, 'you're funny.'

'It's just something I'm trying.' Such a simple statement, one full of humor and sarcasm but one with a texture that makes you press your tongue to the back of your teeth as he says it. He sounds tired of running - from himself, from all the great complexities he finds in the world, but not from you. 'Just something I want to try for a little while.’'

'All the time.’ Your own words are abrupt, clipped at the end of their syllables as you rush them out, needing him to hear the correction - to not miss it, not for a second. 'You're always funny, all the time.'

For a long while he considers your statement, and, in the absence of sound and conversation, the air in the room becomes thick, sluggish in your lungs. Your fingers curl into the sheets, eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling because now, if ever, it would be terribly dangerous to turn to face him. At least, you presume, he finally knows. He must know, the layers of this confession wholly befitting the hallowed energy that lingers between you.

Swallowing thickly, you let him take his time, forcing yourself to be patient. The darkness has brought everything together, the gap between your beds somehow closed, as though he is right next to you, even unreachable as he is.

'You're the only one who sees me that way,’ he says finally, and you hear the care laced in his voice, doing his best to articulate his appreciation.

You want more of him, more of this sound, more of everything he keeps tucked away where prying eyes cannot follow. You want all of him, his very existence an addiction.

'It's because I see you.' This time, you are more brave, more confident, and there is a pleasing dissonance to your voice, the old you starting to become devoured by the new.

Tonight tastes different on your tongue. Something about the moon and something about the sun, about the way you have spent too long in the light with your private luxuries shrinking ever further away, has allowed you to gather blossoms of starlight, their twinkling mysteries putting a hope in your joints that has never dared to trespass until this moment. All your life, the darkness has been a shroud and a veil, a cloister keeping you contained only with your yearning thoughts and your inadequacies, an invasion that has wormed its way within you for too long. It leaves you now, spilling outward and shimmering in the moonlight, leaving you free and empty, with room to nurture a burning flame.

Kyungsoo remains completely still, and you have the passing thought he does not move for fear of causing your retreat. 'And what do you see?' he asks softly.

Fingers pressing deep into the feather comforter, you hum. 'It depends.'

A low chuckle rumbles through his chest, the very sound a ripple of thunder in the night. 'That doesn't sound reassuring.'

Taking in a deep breath, you hold it in until your lungs hurt, smothering the doubt, the fear, and the inexplicable notion that this will fail until you can convince yourself you are indestructible.

'It depends on how long I let myself look, and depends on what you feel that day.’ Furrowing your brow, you tuck the inside of your cheek between your teeth. This should be sufficient, but he is so much more than a summation of looking, a summation time. He is something that is held without time, something you wish to behold eternally, even long after you are dust. 'It's not that you're mercurial,’ you continue, doing your best not to cringe at the clarity in your voice, ‘it's not that you're not consistent. I think I just see other things because I take my time looking.'

How would he look if you said these things to him in the daylight? What would the midday yellows and oranges reflect if he looked at you, and let himself be seen? Would you tell him your looking extends beyond admiration, beyond mere affection, and into the shuddering truth of love? To say all this in the sunlight, what would become of you?

You think it’s for the best that you will never have the answers to these questions, the night the only thing clinging tenderly to your pride, protective and secure.

'And do you like what you see?'

His voice is full of bashful apprehension, the rustling of his own sheets a symphony to accompany his tentative questioning. He shifts restlessly, hopefully, and you feel the sound with your whole body.

Licking your lips, you press onward, getting used to breaking the darkness - getting used to feeling raw and open. 'That also depends.'

'On what you see?'

Unable to help yourself, you finally turn to your side and look at him, eyes adjusting almost instantly to trace the nuanced details of his face, the moonlight painting silver shadows along his features. You’ve been lured to him, driven to see him now that he is asking to be seen, wanting your eyes on him; the very question begged you to look, and to take your time looking. Incrementally your longing grows, a swell in your chest that challenges the very depth of the lake, rushing through you until it cannot be contained.

'On whether you want me to like it,’ you clarify.

Leaning up to support his head on his hand, he looks at you and the hunger painted over his expression is enough to have your fists curling into the mattress. It stirs in you the need to be consumed, to be loved by his mouth and the palms of his hands, the greed in you not unlike an uprising. The flush in your neck spreads over your chest, your shirt constrictive and tight, suddenly no more room for you and all this impossible craving. Even still, Kyungsoo still remains calm, a king in the world of pleasure, looking at you as though you are a gift for feasting.

'I think people always want to be liked in some way, don't you think?’

A low growl lurks in the back of his voice, tone dropped down an octave to find gravel you have never heard before. All month, the nights have been uncharacteristically cool, heralding the slow death of summer as it bleeds into autumn, but you are heated. His gaze lives beneath your skin, now, a fire that refuses to burn out.

‘And,’ he carries on, as though you remain unlit, ‘I also don't think your opinion of me should depend on me. That's for you to make.'

Lips parted, mouth wanting to take him in, you mirror his pose and lean up on your arm. Slowly, you shake your head. 'That's not what I meant.'

The rasp in your voice surprises you both, and he smiles at the tension he has created, excited at the prospect of snapping it.

'Then what did you mean?' he presses, and you would rejoice at the sensuality of it, at the way the fullness of his lips shapes the words, but the appetite within him is like a hand at the center of your throat.

'I meant whether you want me to like it...' The admission drifts away, the choir of blood in your heart on fire with the weight of honesty. But you are glad for this burning, the fire that eats at you every bit his as it is yours. 'Whether my opinion matters.'

'Your opinion matters.' Kyungsoo doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t allow room for ambiguity or dishonesty. His eyes narrow, penetrative and demanding, keeping you still. 'You matter.'

Unfurling your hands, your fingers press into the sheets as though they are his shirt, his hands, his skin. The angular brutality of him has unmade the careful concealing you have spent years constructing. Hours ago, you had admitted that Kyungsoo makes you feel safe but now you are realizing the peril of letting him in - realizing you are the torment and the danger, little more than the ghosts of your desires. Now, you are starved for him, your tongue a desert aching to be drenched.

Tossing the sheets to the side, Kyungsoo moves his legs over the bed and rises to a stand, taller than you’ve ever seen him stand. Steel keeps his spine straight, shoulders rolled back in pause as though his mind is catching up with his limbs, before he crosses the small space and comes to sit on your bed. You don’t trust yourself with him this close, not anymore. Not after you have learned to love, not only him, but the very act of loving him.

Shifts closer to you, close enough he could touch all of you, not just your legs, your hips, your waist, your chest, but so too your face and your lips - close enough you can taste him on the air. With your lips parted, every breath you take is full of him, tongue wet and heavy with his flavor.

‘What are you doing?’

‘We aren’t like the others,’ he says plainly, fingers toying with the sheets beside your hands.

Your eyes drop to his hands, avoiding the power of the intimacy you find in his expression. It feeds into the room, your tongue coming to lick your lips and he takes in a shuddering breath, the very sound sending a jolt of desire between your thighs. Taking your silence as permission, he continues to speak, the very anguish of his words exhausted at the prospect of not having you.

‘We don’t…’ Taking a deep breath, he glances around the room, searching. ‘Flirt,’ he settles, though even this word does not seem to satisfy him. His gaze on you is hard, urging you to look up and see him, to meet his eyes and witness him. When you do, you’re certain you could smell his very heart, your blood suddenly full of his seductive magic. ‘At least, not like they do. I don’t make speeches and you don’t surrender, not unless you’ve been given explicit proof that it’s safe. That you’re right.’

It’s as though he looks down into you, deep enough that his gaze means to caress your ribs, your bones, wrapping himself around your spine until all your senses belong to him.

‘You see me.’ His teeth glide roughly over his bottom lip, nipping it quickly before releasing it, the blood beneath the skin rushing to make it more plump than it was before. ‘And I see you. I have never stopped seeing you. I’ve not wanted to stop seeing you, finding you, learning you since the day I met you.’

If you are the devil lurking in the dark, the hungry one with eyes of greed then he is the lust, the one who has torn through you and pulled out the language you have only just started to understand. The moment that follows is enormous, a moment in which you realize love is not only the act of feeling but the act of seeing, of being seen. He describes you as though he knows you, as though he knows the clawed and ugly parts of you that threaten to tear the fabric of your existence apart, and as though he loves even what he sees in those.

You don’t think you’ve ever been so aware of gravity, of the way language is not only a syntax but a physics, and of the way he has slowly inched closer and closer, your vision full of only him. With your eyes adjusted to the dark, you come to see yourself as a hawk, able to find yourself in his eyes, able to see yourself as he sees you - pupils dilated and not allowing you the privilege to remain invisible. In feeding on him, you feed on yourself, and so, too, you suppose does he feed on you, on himself, on the carnal savoring of your longing, united.

‘What are you saying,’ you whisper, certain he hears you, certain he hears your plea to be explicit.

‘I’m saying,’ he begins, lifting his hand to cup your chin. He holds it in his hand and pulls you close, his breath on your lips a fever, the feel of his bones pressing into yours sparking a voracious desire to be devoured, ‘if you are thinking of taking a risk, you are safe.’

His truth is a dawn breaking over your skin, spirit sanctified by the permission he grants you. Before you can even comprehend your actions you press your hands into the mattress and give yourself the momentum necessary to close the distance between your lips. The sheer force of the kiss gnaws at you, his free hand coming to wrap around your waist to pull you close. Flush against him, you think you are powerful enough to eat the moon, to eat the sun, to have him and keep him buried beneath your tongue.

He moans against your mouth, the sound of it shuddering against your chest and vibrating through you. Your own arms wind around his neck, fingers toying with the soft hair at the nape of his neck, unable to mind that this new position is awkward and difficult to sustain. You have managed much worse, have contained whole stars in the center of your chest for years and still have survived - you think you can manage the slant of your waist as he holds you against him, unforgiving.

Running his tongue along your lips, he asks for permission you are eager to grant, slipping his tongue against yours in a tentative stroke of possession. In your mouth, he is the blunt edge of a knife, cutting you deep enough that you think no other hands, no other lips will have their fill of you - no one else will have their fill and still find themselves engorged with an unconquered thirst. Sucking his bottom lip between your teeth, you nip the flesh to a swell that feels warm and plump.

He smiles against you, pulling his lip away and you smile too, his voluptuous mouth a blessing.

‘You’re wrong,’ you murmur, grazing his lips as you speak.

Insatiable, he kisses you again, stealing what he can of you until you are breathless. ‘How so?’

Moving one hand from his neck, you cup his cheek and laugh, a sound he eats with his own chuckle. ‘We are exactly like the others.’

Author’s Note v2.0: i do not own the quotes from Virginia Woolf - To The Lighthouse; Dexter, the TV show; or Richard Siken - Scheherazade

tag list: @yehet-me-up @wonderlustlucas @junkfoodwriting @taestfully @heatofmyexoheart @majci @ahgishaman @softly-savage-mint-yoongi @lamichellee

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ex-silent-reader · 4 years ago

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Happy Holidays fic recs

Happy Holidays everybody! I haven’t been commenting on posts individually like i normally like to so it’s kind of backed up a bit. I still really want to thank all the authors who have been sharing their stories with us and leave a lil itty bitty comment before I can expand on them for their own post so here’s that! Also I’ve seen a lot of undeserved negativity being spread to a lot of authors and I just want to thank you all for sharing your work on this platform FOR FREE and remind you that you literally owe us nothing and I’m super grateful that you continue to share with us. These are just some stories that I’ve read this week, i’d def like to do another of these soon :)

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own any of these stories, each story is owned by the author tagged next to the title and the summary is pulled verbatim from their page, in quotation marks. The only thing I own is gratitude towards these authors for sharing their work with us.

Also all stories are rated M

Also, a loooot of stories have come out lately and I haven’t had a chance to get to a lot of them yet but i hope to soon so I’ll hopefully make another one of these soon, but yea pls know that I’m not purposefully ignoring or excluding anything or anyone.

Jin;

last christmas | ksj x reader - @xjoonchildx

“ summary: it was bound to happen, eventually. after months of near misses at barbecues and birthdays, there’s no avoiding your ex-husband at hoseok’s annual christmas bash. but it’s fine, totally fine, because you’re both adults – and you’ve both brought dates and booze. what could go wrong? “

This story was amazing! First of all, I love the comedy surrounding the entire situation, Hobi with his 8 trees and instigator Yoongi who also wants them to get their shit together for Hobi’s sake. I love all au’s but sometimes exes to lovers is difficult for me to side with because I don’t see how people can bounce back from so much hurt but in this story it felt very natural how they were able to find their way back together and I really enjoyed the insight to their relationship, especially near the end.

Yoongi;

CREAM & SUGA - @snackhobi

“summary: yoongi is your favourite regular. he’s patient, polite, and predictable, a-large-black-coffee-to-go-please, no cream, no sugar, thank you. rinse and repeat. the seasons might change, but yoongi’s order stays the same.

and then one fateful day in winter, yoongi asks about the weekly specials, orders a cup of christmas and sugary sweetness, and everything starts changing.”

Ya’ll. Yoongi fics just truly hit different. The plot of this was so adorable and him going out of his way like that to keep her engaged was so cute and just very Yoongi like. I also just really loved the descriptions in this, like how oc described making the drinks, it just made everything seem so real.

universe | myg drabble - @personasintro

“❥𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔; you’re his whole universe, you just don’t know it yet – or him”

ASDFGHJKL! Like, I really have no words for the way this made me feel. Like, ik it’s not a super healthy dynamic but the thought of a fixated Yoongi is.. I loved reading Yoongi being so fixated with oc and doing everything i his capability to meet her. I also was v interested in the part where he bumped into her and she didn’t react the way he expected because it made me think about how he (or any character’s with his mindset) cope when the fantast and reality don’t match.

Hobi;

A Holly, Jolly Crisis (M) - @kpopfanfictrash

* Blog doesn’t allow copy/paste and I wanted to respect that*

This story made me feel so many things. Like there’s so many layers to it and both of their hurt, her visiting him and feeling betrayed while he felt pushed aside. This story was so complex and both characters had so many layers to them, but it’s still sooo well written and I was invested the entire time. Like, I genuinely can’t get my feelings out in a brief way so I’m looking forward to screaming about this in it’s own post.

Joonie;

my only wish - knj | m - @ppersonna

“✹ summary- There are few things you hate most in this world. Hornets, unnecessary fruit pieces in otherwise perfectly good jello, certain shades of orange… But nothing takes the cake more than two simple things. Christmas. And Kim Namjoon. So why did you agree to pretend to be Kim Namjoon’s girlfriend at his family Christmas party? Bah-Humbug. “

UM! Absolutely adored this story, of course it would be a fellow cream suit enthusiast who can bring so much justice to dreamy Joon. I loved how he was portrayed here and getting insight to both his and oc’s feelings made me root for them soooo hard.

new parent syndrome - @1kook

“ SUMMARY You love Namjoon, honest. But you love your daughter Hyejoo even more— it’s not a controversial sentiment when you know he’s the same way! —and going back to a regular adult life sans kids absolutely sucks. (Or so you thought.)”

The tag “dreamy husband joon” is extremelyyyy accurate. This story was just so cute and their relationship truly felt so intimate and lovely. Her being on the phone with Jimin while Joon was smash SENT me but it was also so hot like ASDFGHJKL that man can do no wrong tbh.

laundry day - @snackhobi

“summary: You’ve been letting your laundry pile up for a little too long. Fortunately, your neighbour Namjoon is there to lend you a hand. “

Pls this was so hot. Like, I’ve made it very clear thus far that I’m a total simp for Joon, the thought of that man going strawberry picking and thinking to grab some for oc genuinely makes me SWOON. He’s an actual heartthrob.

The Sweet in Sweet Potato - @sahmfanficbts

“ Summary: You’ve been roommates for years. Now that you’re catching feelings, it’s time to run away. “

This entire series has had me so invested but this chapter!!! I’m always a sucker for Joon but the way he was so clearly in her feels (for OC) but wanting to respect her need for distance, what a man. And I was so happy to see oc working through her feeling towards Joon.

Last Christmas (M) - @jjungkookislife

* Blog doesn’t allow copy/paste and I wanted to respect that*

Damn, I really love when a misunderstanding is such a big catalyst for a bunch of drama/angst. It just really ups the tension for me because as the reader I know it was a misunderstanding but clearly the character’s don’t, so it just makes me really eager to see how they make amends. I really enjoyed seeing them slowly make amends and grow. Also the buildup to them deciding to give the relationship another go made the ending soooo satisfying.

Jimin;

picking petals｜pjm - @taestybae

“ summary ↣ you asked for a baby, so a baby is what you’re going to get. “

I really have no words for this, like it was so asaifgjhhkc. First of all, I really enjoyed that it was through his pov, i don’t typically read stories like that (I just don’t often come across them) but this still felt so natural that I didn’t even realize until right now, writing this comment. Also, the imagery was so well described and the anticipation built made this story so enjoyable.

Taehyung;

Deepest Indulgence - @scribblemetae

“ Description/Summary: The world is a mess, gangs, violence and rates of poverty are at an all time high since corporations took over everything. You built your Sex house to be a safe place and a sanctuary for those in need, promising to protect anybody who needs it. What happens when an extremely attractive and very rich man walks through the door begging for a job at Deepest Indulgence? The one sex house that wasn’t meant for men like himself. “

I AM SO EAGER FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER TO COME OUT. Like, idk how I can even describe this correctly but this just feel so much like Tae...???? Like idk if that makes sense but just Tae being this v sensual man, but there still being more to him than that, just makes so much sense and even the word “indulgence” is just so sensual and reminiscent of him. Also, the storyline so far is something I’ve personally never seen before and I’m super invested in this world and story already. Very eager to see how their relationship progresses.

let it snow | kth - @suga-kookiemonster

* Blog doesn’t allow copy/paste and I wanted to respect that*

It’s the way I read this last night, it took me exactly an hour (3am to 4 am cause I’m a CLOWN), and I was so invested that I kept putting off sleep to finish it. Man, i’m a simp for this Tae (just like he is for oc lmao). I really enjoyed reading it and the mention of Jisoo earlier in the story had me on the edge of my seat the whole time wondering when things were gonna blow up. Everything was just so sweet and fluffy, and the confession really made me feel so soft for them both cause they both were so in their own heads and feelings they couldn’t see what was in front of them so I really enjoyed the confessions.

Jungkook;

Thank you, baby - @scribblemetae

“ Turns out the boy whos been stalking you for years has decided its about time he shows his face in the form of a picture, and decides its time to talk to you for real, in the form of a phone call. “

I genuinely don’t know how I can simp over this story in a short way but I’ll try my best. The characters are so complex and the storyline is twisted so many ways that make this so interesting to read and easy to become invested in. The way Jk is written, I understand why OC is lost on how to feel for him. Like, his actions are wrong, but actually meeting him and even seeing his though process, it’s hard to make him out to be the villian that his actions have categorized him as. I can’t wait to continue reading and write a full length comment about this!

FEED ME, FIGHT ME. @yeojaa

“ What do you get when you mix a pissed off girlfriend with a neglectful boyfriend? (Aside from trouble, that is.) “

I really enjoyed this, I love how aware of Jk and his boundaries the oc is and how she is cautious to walk the line and not push him too far while also letting him know how his actions make her feel. This just genuinely felt like a glimpse into a very real, very intimate relationship/moment and I loved that. I also just really love how this is written and I think you have a beautiful way with words.

Chapstick - @softyoongiionly

“based on the time Jungkook said he needed someone to scold him so he’d remember to put lip balm on. Or Jungkook’s had a really long day and the only that can make it better, is seeing you. “

Idk if I’ve ever said it before, but I just love how you write relationships. Like, I can feel how comfortable they are with each other and how natural being together is for them. With your stories generally it just never feels forced and I really love that. I also really liked that we got Jk’s pov in the beginning, getting to see how tense he was really made me eager for their interactions and for him to feel comfortable and calm with her. Their interactions just felt so cute and natural and the end, assdjfhi, jk really deserves to be cherished and I loved seeing oc get him to the point of relaxation.

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omniswords · 4 years ago

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Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 15

new year, new chapter c: it's been a while since i've worked on Chronicles—December Mood dips are Not Delicious, plus i started streaming regularly, which has been fun! ((i’m omnistruck on Twitch if you want to check it out 🥰) but rest assured i intend to see it through to the end. i hope you've been well <3 take care, and enjoy!

From: itsdjbubbles

My dude, if your stage presence is anything like this flyer, y’all are absolutely gonna kill it at La Tortue.

Well. Luka doesn’t know about that.

It’s not like Kitty Section is totally obscure. They’ve had a stage in Paris’s annual pop-up music festival or more than one occasion. And sometimes Juleka’s tagged along to street corners with him so they could duet in hopes of more than just pocket change. And, of course, there was that whole music contest with Bob Ross and XY, but that had only ended in fiasco: their music was stolen, Rose’s vocals ripped right off the track. Luka argued up and down over the phone until he was red in the face, nearly biked down to the studio and let them have it, but he could hardly prove it. And he cared too much about it jeopardizing Juleka’s happiness to follow through.

Total corporate bullshit. He didn’t know how Jagged Stone did it. When he said so at dinner the night he gave up, his Ma only tousled his hair and said, “You’re my boy, aren’t you?”

Sometimes he thinks that’s the strongest, bravest, he’s ever been. That all his audacity peaked years ago, and he’s only gotten worse since then.

Bubbles isn’t corporate bullshit. Luka feels like he’d be able to figure out something like that from conversation alone. But their talks have been friendly—and more than that, supportive. He’s even shown a few messages to the band, just to check that he wasn’t losing his mind. And he saw how their faces softened in approval, or lit up with excitement. Even Juleka’s.

Besides, Bubbles makes music. And when he samples something, he actually credits it. He knows how to play the game. And it feels like they’re on the same side of the board.

Bubbles has that stage presence; the fact that he only needs that one shadowy picture on his profile is more than enough of an indicator. And Bubbles has a reputation that precedes him. So even if they’re on the same side of the board, it feels like Bubbles is always just a couple of steps ahead.

At least his bandmates are on the same side, and at the same step. All it took was a casual mention, during a late-night band practice, of “the bakery he keeps getting their snacks from” being all in on getting them even more exposure. They didn’t exactly do a good job of hiding their excitement, but he wouldn’t have wanted them to, anyway. Even Juleka, after practice ended, had to admit, “You did good.” And then, with perhaps a bit more snark, “Maybe she’s the one trying to impress you. “

“Stop,” Luka said with a roll of his eyes, but he couldn’t help thinking about it once the partition between their beds was up. There was no way Marinette Dupain-Cheng was trying to impress him.

…Was there?

By now, nearly a day later, Luka’s still asking himself that. Still hemming and hawing like they have more than just two weeks to get their act together. Pacing below deck with his phone in his hand, thinking about pear tarts and pretty faces instead of going to see them in person, and staring at Marinette’s phone numbers until he thinks he’s accidentally memorized both of them.

He doesn’t recognize the pattern or the area code of one of them, so he can only assume that it's an American number. But he still hasn’t mucked up the courage to text or even save the French one in his phone. Why does he need to be scared in the first place? It’s a phone number, and this is strictly business, and everything between them has been strictly business.

Well. Nearly everything. Nearly strictly.

He thinks.

Okay. Okay. All he has to do is say… what? Hi? Who just starts texting someone for the first time with “Hi?” But he can’t go writing a whole essay either, even though at least now he has the power to edit his words instead of just saying them and hoping for the best.

This is harder than it needs to be. And yeah, maybe he’s just making it harder than it needs to be, but it’s not like his brain and the shake in his hands are giving him much of a choice in the matter.

Luka switches back over to his message thread with Bubbles and shoots off a quick reply—flatterer—because maybe answering something easy will make the hard stuff more tolerable. He finds himself looking toward his guitar as though it might lend him strength… well, what the hell. It couldn’t hurt. He plays a doodle or two, idle notes, and catches himself before his fingers can drift toward the beginning of the ocean-blue song. At this point, it’s neither perfect nor good, and he can’t tell if it’s personal dissatisfaction or the numbers that the latest draft has been doing online.

Both. It’s probably both.

Messaging Marinette ends up being just as hard after his attempts at centering as it was before—because as it turns out, the whole music-giving-him-unbridled-confidence thing really only works while he’s playing it. So now he’s left still staring at the blank NEW MESSAGE screen, the cursor blinking almost tauntingly at him because of course it is. Because somehow, he can write a note telling a girl her eyes are pretty and survive long enough to see her smile about it, but he can’t send that same girl a text. It’s not like he can even see her reaction this time, anyway; that just gives him even more of an advantage.

Okay. Okay. He can actually do this. Maybe. He thinks—no, no, he has to.

With a deep breath that he holds longer than he releases, Luka opens a new message.

To: Marinette hey. it’s luka.

And like an idiot, he hits SEND before he’s even put the rest of his message together. So now he has to make a mad dash to come up with something so he doesn’t seem like a total creep for messaging her out of the blue.

For fuck’s sake. This is exactly why he writes his messages in the notes first.

To: Marinette sorry, hit send before i could finish. anyway, just wanted to tell you the band is cool with the postcard idea. i can pay you next time i come to the bakery, if that’s cool.

To: Marinette anyway, it’s really cool of you to offer your help like this. sorry if i didn’t say so yesterday, it’s kind of been... a wild time.

Luka locks his phone before he can agonize too much over what he’s sent, stuffs it away and starts pacing again. It’s not a frantic, shaky thing; no, he’s learned to keep the shakes on the inside until no one’s around to see them. He jumps when his back pocket vibrates, and he nearly drops his phone trying to fish it out. It’s only Bubbles, and he can’t tell whether he’s relieved or disappointed until his phone buzzes again. Twice. And this time, it actually is from Marinette.

From: itsdjbubbles Sorry, I was getting some stuff ready for my next project. Listen, I’m just saying. Don’t sell yourself short as this stuff. Paris is gonna hear you up there, and it’s gonna lose its collective fucking mind.

From: Marinette hi luka ☺️ no worries, i do that too sometimes. here’s the mockup for the postcard. let me know what your band thinks, i’ll do some tweaks and send it to print. sound good?

Luka balks, both at the tone of the message and at the picture she sent. It looks almost exactly like the flyer, same color scheme and everything. The only difference seems to be in the composition, which makes sense; she’s got more of the eye for this stuff, even for someone who only “dabbles.”

To: Marinette wow, this is... thank you? that was fast. and this is really well put-together. i think they’re gonna love it.

you really weren’t kidding, huh.

Luka finds himself sinking onto his bed and staring at the message thread instead of actually doing something productive. And strangely, he’s fine with that. The more time passes, the less scary it is to see her typing back, again and again and again.

From: Marinette course i wasn’t kidding. “help” is practically my middle name to the people who matter.

and i mean, there’s only a little bit of time until your show, right? so, gotta get movin.

anyway, i gotta run. my friend needs help for his summer class and i promised i’d go visit today.

Keep me posted about your band!

♥️

There is far too much in that message for Luka to need to process. “People who matter?” “Keep me posted?” The literal heart emoji at the end? He reads their messages over and over, mostly to confirm that this really, actually just happened, but he’s not going to push his luck. Maybe she just talks to everyone like that, and more importantly, the two of them haven’t been much more than a series of transactions anyway.

A... lot of transactions.

That she’s been doing a lot of giving for.

Luka tries and at least sort of succeeds at shaking the thought from his mind; he can’t read hers, and he shouldn’t try to. He sends her one last text—cool, have a good one—and switches back to Bubbles before he can worry if his words were too casual.

To: itsdjbubbles Thanks for the vote of confidence. I guess you’re not the only one? the bakery I go to, they’re offering to help too.

or, I mean, CBG is offering to help.

Bubbles’s reply doesn’t come until a few hours later. It’s presumably after that project work he mentioned, and definitely after Luka’s had some time to play out the rest of the shakes before he goes busking. His phone buzzes with the notification just as he’s about to leave, and what Bubbles has to say makes his stomach churn and his blood run both hot and cold.

From: itsdjbubbles wait. wait wait wait. hold on i just scrolled your posts.

CBG is *Marinette Dupain-Cheng?*

ohhhhhhh my dude you are in for it now.

#miraculous ladybug #lukanette #endgame lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #fic: chronicles of a parisian dumbass #and we're back to luka being a total mess.#how are you? i hope you're well 💙💖🎶

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sdvharveybby · 4 years ago

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*ahem* PLEASE DO A FIC BASED OFF YOUR HARVEY AND PREGNANT WIFE HEADCANNONS PLEASE

ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE DEAR BBY ANON. I was honestly so excited to write this that I wrote it in a few hours. Just woo!

The headcannons were my inspiration for this, but I hope I captured everything :0

**edit** Headcannons post where this all came from -- Here!

I had a lot of emotions, myself, when writing this. Mostly do to personal reasons, but I enjoy writing about Harvey in this way. I think it truly captures his nervous, but caring personality. That he would do all that he could to provide the best care for his pregnant wife.

In any case, I hate to say it, but I feel like this jumped around a bit- heh. Honestly there was so much I enjoyed from the headcannons that it was genuinely hard to pick just a few! I hope you enjoyed this though! I did my best and loved every minute of it! Thank you so much for the ask! (Also, the small ‘ahem’ in the beginning legit killed me. It’s so funny)

Word Count: 1918

The farmer cracked open her eyes one sunny morning. She could tell she slept in past 6am, but she was too groggy to be mad; her body felt stiff and her mind heavy, as if a headache was coming on. She pulled the covers over her head and shifted her body to try and get more sleep- she would have fallen asleep if she didn’t start to feel nauseated. It came on quickly and was growing more, the farmer shot up from her bed throwing the blanket behind her. She covered her mouth and bounded towards the bathroom, “H-Honey?” she could faintly hear as she ran past Harvey holding a plate of breakfast for her. The farmer barely made it to the toilet when she threw up any contents in her stomach. With heavy footsteps, Harvey ran into the bathroom after her, “Honey, are you-. Oh, I see.” He remarked as he crouched beside her and pulled her hair back. “I have some water here,” he mentioned as he switched hands to stroke her back as she threw up again.

There was a momentary pause as the farmer tried to gather her breath, “Oh, wow,” she whispered to Harvey. “I know, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” He reassured to her, giving her a soft kiss on her forehead. She would have appreciated it more if she didn’t immediately throw up again, “I promise that’s not because you kissed me,” she chuckled to herself. Harvey laughed and continued stroking her back until she felt like it was over. He handed her some water and walked back to the kitchen to grab medicine and a lemon slice. When he came back, she was standing and holding her head, “Maybe you should lay back down. I asked Marnie to help me with your farm work today so there’s nothing for you too worry about.” He smiled and the farmer nodded her head in agreement. She took the medicine that Harvey offered and grasped the lemon slice in her hand, walking away and smelling it. “Oh, we have a long way to go, but I’ll be here for every minute of it.” He whispered to himself with a soft smile.

After a few weeks of helping her with her morning sickness, it had quickly become about 30ish weeks since they found out that she was pregnant. Every day it was a surreal moment for Harvey, he almost couldn’t believe that it was true. The closer it was to her due date, the more he got emotional- many years he spent pent up in his apartment above the clinic. Many sleepless nights and many lonely ones- it was an eye-opening moment for him when he realized he would be a father. It scared him, no doubt. He feared he wouldn’t be good enough or if he provide enough for his family. What if his child didn’t like him? What if they rejected him or liked his wife more? He knew he was overthinking it and that he would do his best to provide his wife and child with anything they wanted, but he couldn’t help to think of his worst-case scenarios sometimes.

He still worked at the clinic, Tuesdays, and Thursdays to do annual check-ups on everyone in town. He compiled a list of questions to ask when he knew one of the mothers in town would be coming in. It was Summer, day 18, and he knew Robin would be coming in. He decided to ask her because she took things seriously but kept things light enough that he would be most comfortable asking her.

He stood and approached the front door when he saw Robin already inside and waiting, “Hey, Doc,” she smiled as she stood. “Hello, Robin! Follow me.” They made there way into the back as Robin complained of her right arm hurting again, “I’ll take a look, but it’s probably because you work too much. You need to give your arm a break now and again from swinging your ax,” She laughed a bit, “Yeah, but you know how I feel about that.” He sighed but carried on with her check-up. “Looks like you’re good Robin, but please give your arm a break!” He scolded her but she just held up a hand dismissing it. She began to walk out when Harvey stopped her, “Actually, could I ask you a few questions?” Perplexed, Robin sat on one of the stools in the room, “I’m all ears!” He smiled and pulled out a long list of questions he had- Robin peeked at some of them, her eyes wide with amusement. “Ha, you’re worried about being a dad, aren’t you?” Harvey blushed and broke her eye contact, “Well, yes, but also, I want to make sure I’m taking care of my wife well and wanted to ask your experience with pregnancy.” Perhaps… Robin wasn’t the best person to ask because she named off every single thing she could think of for providing the best care for the farmer. Robin made it her mission to prop up the farmer in every way to get her everything she wanted. It took about an hour of talking, but once Harvey understood it all-, she began walking to the door, “Oh, and when your wife suddenly breaks down into tears, just hold her. Sometimes it’s best not to ask questions!” She laughed, leaving Harvey a bit confused.

He made his way home from work, reviewing everything he and Robin talked about. She was so quick to answer every question he had, but she reassured him in all the ways possible. His biggest stress relief is when she looked at him with honest eyes and said, “Harvey, you’re thinking about this too much. You’re going to be a great dad. Just take every day as it comes.”

It calmed his thoughts greatly as he walked through the door. He was greeted with his wife sitting at the table, she turned and looked at him, “Welcome home, love.” He dropped his stuff to the ground and walked to his wife. She was a bit confused, but she smiled, “Everything okay?” Harvey bent down on his knees and hugged her and the baby. He was careful not to disturb the baby bump in any way, but he wanted to drink in his wife’s love after his day at work. She began combing her hands through his hair, “Everything is just fine.” He reassured her as he used his thumb to stroke her belly. It was peaceful to feel her love and feel accepted by her. He was floored that he was going to be a father, and he was humbled to know that he had the best wife in the entire world at his side.

He sprung up from their tender hug when he felt a kick against his hand. “O-oh! The baby! It kicked me, did you see it, honey?!” His eyes were wide with excitement, a rosy color growing in his cheeks. His wife giggled a bit as she watched her husband. His heart rate sprang up and he gently placed his hands on either side of her belly, he watched it carefully and said, “H-Hey! You can hear me! I’m your daddy! Yeah! I’m your father, and I promise to protect you for the rest of my life.” He gave her belly a soft kiss when he felt another kick. His eyes sparkled, brimming with tears, as he watched their child move within her. He helped women give birth for some time now- it never fazed him or affected him like this. This was something totally new that he was experiencing for the first time. This time it was different. This time it was their child- he married the woman he loved more than anything in this world and now he would get to watch his child grow before his very eyes. A few tears fell as he watched this unfold. It was a magical moment that brought tears to his wife’s eyes too. He hugged her belly, shedding a few more tears as he did so.

Through the rest of the night- things went on as they normally did. He would check her ankles to see if she had any swelling and he was relieved when she didn’t. He would rub lotion on her stomach to prevent any stretchmarks and routinely made healthy balanced dinners for his wife. Everyday he would brush his wife’s hair and style it like she normally does- course he messed up a few times, but eventually got the hang of it. She was internally grateful for Harvey. He provided her with as much comfort as he could, and whenever she had any cravings (no matter how weird) he would do his best to get them for her. He eventually started coming home with tomatoes though, considering that seemed to be what she requested the most. When Pierre would question him on all the tomatoes, he’d explain it for his wife. Pierre laughed and would send him on his way, “My wife requested tea leaves once! Not even the drink! Just the leaves!” Pierre would share through his laughter.

Everything had been going smoothly until he came home one night to find his wife in a fit of tears. He dropped anything he was holding and immediately ran by her side. She sat on the couch, holding a blanket to her chin, constantly wiping her eyes and blowing her nose. “What happened? Are you all right?” She didn’t respond, just continued to cry as she clutched the blanket. Retrieving her some water, he sat beside her and held her tightly. “It’s all right, I got you.” He whispered to her, which seemed to make her cry even harder. It overwhelmed him to say the least! He figured he would take this as any regular day, but she seemed to have other plans. He collected his own thoughts and wondered if this were the hormones talking, She should have primarily experienced this in the first trimester. They level off after a few months… He thought to himself as he continued to hold her. She finally broke through with a few hiccups of tears, “I was cleaning today- and- and,” He had no idea what she was trying to say! She half mumbled them, but she continued, “and I saw the books on your table, and those love letters!” She cried again, clutching onto Harvey, Heh, well suppose I can’t surprise her with that now, he sighed with relief when she said this, “I planned to give you a love letter after you had had our child.” He explained and she sat up to blow her nose, “Th-that’s just so sweet,” she managed to say. Harvey grew a big smile when he saw her- any fears he had had melted away, and he had begun to shed a few tears himself. “You know I love you, right?” He spoke as he reached up and wiped away a few of her tears. She leaned against his hand, “I-I know.” “Mm,” He started and pulled her into another embrace, “No,” he whispered, “I mean really love you. You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted in my life. I love you with all my heart.”

The rest of their experience together went by smoothly for the remaining time. The time was approaching that they would both meet their child for the very first time, both elated and nervous, they had each other for support.

#sdv #sdv harvey #sdv story #sdv fic #harvey stardew valley #stardew valley harvey #stardew farmer #stardew valley #stardew harvey #stardew valley farmer #sdv ask #sdv farmer

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starbuckie · 4 years ago

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All You Knead is Love Chapter Four: A Bit Untraditional

Challenge: The CBC 1k Writing Challenge by @captainscanadian

Prompt: Bakery AU

Pairing: Baker!Bucky x CEO!Reader

Warnings: Loads and loads of fluff, angst, mentions of PTSD and violence, pining, language as always, and slow burn

*TW: PANIC ATTACK*

Description: After being cut off by her family, Y/N L/N started up her own business. With her business finally rising to the top after three years, her family invites her back on two conditions: that she finds a man and gets married. Once she accomplishes that, then she’ll be able to access her family’s fortune again, which could help her business immensely. While that didn’t sound horrible to her, Y/N had never let herself have the time to meet other people, and has no time now. Running on a deadline for the company, she picks the closest person she can find: which happens to be the sweet, shy, yet hot baker who occasionally caters at her galas.

Words: 2,064 words

A/N: Hey guys! It’s been a solid two months, but I am back and hopefully kicking it with this series. I actually decided to rewrite the ending of the story from what I originally had planned, so I’m very very excited to write it. The holidays are coming up which has me excited, and if you haven’t already sen in a request for the Twelve Days of Fluffmas, you most definitely should. Again, this is for @captainscanadian‘s writing challenge(which you should go join do it do it do it) and hope you enjoy :))

Thursday approached menacingly and rapidly. In the few days they had to prepare, Y/N had managed to move all of her belongings from her pretty empty apartment on the Lower West Side, and into the house that they had bought. She couldn’t be any more grateful for her real estate agent for being so snappy with the process of buying the house. The apartment she left behind had barely been decorated, so the process wasn’t too difficult for her to move in. Bucky on the other hand had started to bring boxes over, at Y/N’s slight insistence that her parents may ask to come over, but his house held so many memories that he knew it would take much longer. It was difficult for him to leave the home he had known for so long, full of cherished memories and the only stable home he had after Iraq. But he was ready to let it go.

The evening of the big engagement dinner Y/N and Bucky were frantic, rushing around the house after work to shower and look presentable, making sure they could pull the stunt off. Bucky’s nerves had been on edge all day, slipping out of the house at two am, hours earlier than normal to start his day. As he talked to customers and served coffee, the words he’d rehearsed with Y/N echoed in his brain, taking over every nook and cranny of his thoughts that he messed up several orders. This time he wouldn’t get nervous. It took him long months to feel the slightest bit comfortable in his own skin and around his neighbors, so if he ran his own bakery he could propose, right?

“So,” Mrs. L/N tried to conceal her disgusted face, “James, what kind of, er, delicacies do you make?”

So the conversation was less than great, even Bucky could admit that. Although Y/n had warned him ahead of time that her parents were not the most amazing conversationalists, he expected something better than this awkward discussion about his job. He loved his job. It brought back cinnamon flavored memories of baking at Christmas with his ma, his dad and younger sister yelling over Scrabble in the living room. Barnes Brooklyn Bakery was his pride and joy, yet he couldn’t help but feel self-conscious when both of Y/N’s parents looked down on it.

“I make lots of things. It requires an earlier or later start time based off of what I’m making, because I want everything to be fresh. But my ma’s croissants are a big seller, and I know that Y/N loves my cinnamon rolls.” He sent her a soft smile, one that the woman in question couldn’t help but return.

“They’re amazing, mom, you have to try them. I swear those hands are absolutely magic and anything that’s made from them is as well.” She intertwined her pinky with Bucky’s on the table, admiring the way the candlelight illuminated the slope of his nose and the hollow of his cheekbones. God, this man has no right being this beautiful. “Bucky’s a hard worker and it shows.”

Y/N’s praise breezed through Bucky like a breath of fresh air, and suddenly his head was clear again, cheeks flushing. “Thanks, doll.”

“And what about your pay, James? How much do you make annually? I have to make sure you’ll be able to support both you and Y/N. After all, her pay from her… makeup brand and her funds can’t be enough.” Fury raged through Y/N, Bucky could probably see it in her eyes as she opened her mouth, prepared to make her argument.

“I make well enough at Orion, dad, but that’s not the point.” Meeting Bucky’s stare from her peripheral vision, she almost panicked. The reason they were sitting there in the first place was so Bucky could get more money for his bakery. “Must you really bring up business at the table? I’m simply trying to have a nice dinner with my boyfriend and my parents, is it really that difficult to ignore money matters for once?”

Her parents eyed each other, as if they were speaking in their own silent, separate language and reluctantly quieted down. The rest of dinner was... tense, to say the very least, stiff questions about childhood and answers being reciprocated as well. Sitting in the presence of her parents, their food tasted bland, but that could’ve been from the anxiety of waiting for the proposal. They’d decided that Bucky was to pop the question while they ate dessert, just a simple small speech and a few tears.

Bucky’s eyes kept trailing back to Y/N as they shared a matcha tiramisu, repeating the words “will you marry me” a million differents ways in his head. The small restaurant he felt comfortable with suddenly felt too small, Bucky not knowing when the proper time to get down on one knee. They hadn’t discussed this. Y/N had just said “whenever you feel is right”, but when was right? The whole idea just felt so wrong to him. Marriage was supposed to be loving, a holy union and commitment for the rest of their lives. He and Y/n didn’t love each other. The whole sham of being husband and wife, for money suddenly felt so sickening to him. The room was closing in on him and all he wanted to do was bolt out and never turn back. He was going back out, he was going to, he felt it, and-

“Marry me, Y/N.” Dead silence. Eyes from all the customers sitting were baring through the couple, seeing his innermost secrets and every one of them felt like a beam of light, boring straight through his soul. Bucky hadn’t even realized how he had practically yelled it at her until the restaurant had gone quiet and he was absolutely mortified. Y/N’s eyes were wide in shock, as this was not how she imagined it going. Yet, the show had to go on.

He instinctively dropped onto one knee, eyes trained at the ground because he was scared of what he would see in her eyes. Short puffs of breath left his mouth and he all of Manhattan could hear his heart pounding. “When we met, I knew you were the one for me. I knew you were beautiful, hell, y-you were gorgeous that day you walked into the bakery, but every time you came in after I got to know the beautiful woman that wasn’t just on the outside, but on the inside too.” His eyes started tearing up, from both his kind of true confession and the pressure that was being put on him. “I-I promise to love you with all my heart. You’re my best friend, my confidante, my soulmate, and I want to be walking by my side for the rest of our lives, doll. I want to be yours forever. What do you say?”

Bucky lifted his gaze up to meet hers, hands covering her mouth as a soft sigh left her lips. Y/N couldn’t believe the beautiful sight. Shaking hands held a small cut diamond nestled in between two simple silver bands. Bucky’s hair was fluffy, newly so from his haircut the other day, clean shaven jaw showcasing the highlights of his cheekbones, and his eyes. She could go on forever about those pretty, blue eyes of his, but in the two years of knowing him, they had never been as pretty as they were in that moment, pretty blue eyes peering up at her.

Here he was, the man that she considered one of her closest friends in the city, literally giving his solitary life up to spend it with her. She wasn’t in love with him, not now at least, but those lingering feelings of hers tried to once again force their way back into her heart.

And this time, at the worst time possible, she let them.

With a small but giddy grin, she nodded and placed her hand on his cheek. “Yes, Bucky, I’ll marry you.”

He let out a long sigh at her approval, but the applause and cheers directed at him continued to make his heart race. Bucky slipped the ring onto her finger clumsily, his breath starting to become more labored as the cheers of “kiss” got louder. Y/N noticed his harsh breathing, and as she pulled him into an enveloping embrace she could feel the rapid beating of his heart the thin dress shirt he wore. “Can we go, Y/N?”

His whispered voice quivered, as if he were to break at any moment. “Of course, Bucky, I’ll go say goodbye and you can start heading to the car.” Grip on her waist tightened as she heard him grind his teeth.

“Please stay with me.”

Of course I’ll stay with you. “Always.” The cheers had not stopped, their voices still ringing strong throughout the restaurant. With no hesitation, Y/N planted a kiss on his cheek, hopefully ridding themselves of the large crowd they had garnered. Her parents looked confused, both of their eyebrows raised at the couple who still had yet to do anything besides hug at their engagement. “Mom, dad, Bucky and I are gonna go home to… celebrate by ourselves.”

Both of them heated up. “Just leave, we’ll take care of the bill. Your father will send you information for the fund over the weekend.” Mrs. L/N eyed both of them skeptically before saying, “Congratulations, Y/N.”

As soon as they got outside Bucky’s knees buckled, Y/N rubbing his back to try and console his breathing. His mind had grown hazy with wild thoughts, the crowd, the proposal, Y/N’s fucking perfume, it was all too much.

It was crawling underneath a truck in the boiling sun, Sam screaming for him, the first blossom of pain and staring down at his left arm, bloodied and detached from his body. It was screaming at his little sister to leave when she brought him groceries, ripping up Steve’s letters from Iraq. It was hours upon hours sitting in medical beds, sitting on couches, staring at the ceiling while doctors attempted to get him to open up. It was panicking at the bakery when someone eyed his prosthetic for too long and women leaving dates with him at the diner on 5th street after he failed to tell them all the gory details about how he lost his arm when they persistently asked. It was every moment he had looked at Y/N, all smiles and kind eyes, and wishing for once that he could not be a fucking coward and ask her out.

“I’m sorry.” The woman whispered. She now kneeled next to him, her right arm tracing shapes on his back, the light scrape of her nails bringing him to somewhat of a peace.

“I don’t need your pity, Y/N.” The second it left his lips he regretted it, waiting for her to leave him alone. They all did eventually. But Y/N sat there, patiently, with a small tilt to her red-painted lips.

“I’m not pitying you, Bucky. You’re one of the strongest and bravest people I know, and I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”

“I just can’t believe I relapsed.” He let out a humorless laugh, his chin coming to rest in his palm. “I thought I was doing well, I always feel okay at the bakery, but I guess that the restaurant was too much. Haven’t been to one in at least a year.”

“It’s completely okay to have panic attacks and to relapse, okay, Bucky? Don’t beat yourself up about it, honey.” Kicking her high heels off, she brought herself down to his level, both of them sitting on the sidewalk as people passed them by. Though they were in New York, the city that never sleeps, she strangely felt calm. People didn’t even turn their heads at the two well-dressed people sitting on the ground. “I would’ve proposed to you, you know.”

“You propose to me? That’ isn't very traditional,” Bucky said with a breathy chuckle.

“To be fair, is any of this?” His grin was starting to grow back, and he squeezed her hand and looked out into the crowded street of the night.

“No, I suppose it isn’t.”

TAGLIST

@aiofheavenandhell @barnesjamcs @kitkatd7 @adorkably @marvelnaturalock

AKYIL TAGLIST

@aiofheavenandhell @barnesjamcs @kitkatd7 @captainscanadian @93generation @drunkbucky @thebadassbitchqueen @asonofpeter @cosmicbreathe @adorkably @awesomeannanumber1 @blubberingmess @every-marveler-ever @supraveng @delicatecapnerd @bitchwhytho @peace-love-hobbitness @learisa @marvelnaturalock

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larryfanficwriter98 · 3 years ago

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Chapter One

-You Are My Favorite Distraction-

It wasn't that Harry didn't love his job. He did and he loved the company, but the building was understaffed, and Harry was doing five different jobs at once. His official title was Chief Media Officer, however at the moment he also filled in the roles of Chief Communications Officer, Chief Costumer Officer, Chief Listening Officer, and Chief Brand Officer. Granted most of those jobs could he pushed into three separate ones however the Manchester Branch wasn't exactly paying much attention. To say he and other Chief Officers were overworked and underpaid for all the work they did was an understatement. It came as no surprise when Janitors started getting fired then lower employees and then finally the first top level employee was let go. Despite Liam, Chief Networking Officer along with Chief Compliance Officer, Chief Operating Officer, and Chief Human Resources Officer, in constant communications with the other Chief Networking Officer at the Main Branch located in London, nothing was ever done about it.

"Hey Haz, what do you think is going to happen?" Liam asked entering his office with his laptop and a few files.

"I think we should probably pack up our desks and find new jobs." Harry said as he continued to type out an email to one of their Manchester customers.

"But which position do we apply for?" Liam questioned.

"Your favorite." Harry guessed with a shrug, "can I help you with something Liam?" Harry asked looking over at his best friend since childhood.

"Yes, actually you can help me decide on what to do if- no when we get shut down." Harry sighed as he saved his work then stood up and rounded his desk, "I like working here...well not here but here."

"Yeah, so do I and I know it sucks because you done everything you could, we all did, but it's not our fault." Harry told him.

"I know that. I just-" They were interrupted by Liam's phone ringing inside his office across from Harry's, "We'll talk later."

Harry has worked for Preserve Earth ever since he was eighteen working in the warehouse having to wear tacky white polo shirts. Back then Preserve Earth was still new and was barely considered more than a small business. They only had biodegradable dinnerware like cups, silverware, plates, and bowls. Standard things. They had just started biodegradable bags of various types when Harry had applied for an office position in London. He had worked in customer service on the second floor for two years. Then the accident happened, and Harry hadn't been able to stay in London after that and had applied for a transfer to the, at the time, new Manchester location. He had started interning with the Chief Media Officer and then had gotten a position as his assistant. Fourteen months after that he had left to train new employees at Liverpool and Harry had been given the job six months later when he decided to stay in Liverpool.

He had been the youngest Chief Officer of the entire company which had gotten a lot of attention from everyone. Everyone had told them it was a bad idea having someone in their early twenties be the front man for the media. The President of the Manchester Branch had stood by his decision and by Harry and Harry had made sure to do his absolute best in his work and it showed by twenty-five, two years after being put in his position Harry had been wanted as the Chief Media Office by large corporate organizations all over the UK and even some from America. The Manchester branch revenue grew in twenty-eight months more than it had grown in the past four years it had been opened. The President had retired soon after and a new president came, and Harry had tentatively brought up social media and how it could grow the business and connect to the customers better and the new CEO had agreed to a trial run of six months. Harry watched a few training videos online and then started ''Preserve Earth Manchester'' social media profiles on Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook. The first two months only showed minimal growth as Harry grew the platforms, but then he wore a pink suit and apparently it was very controversial, and his picture traveled everywhere and then they found his personal Instagram account which promoted his work because he did love the company and he really did love the products. Then the company had to start limiting sales of the products they sold to regular people like backpacks and water bottles and even ecofriendly biodegradable phones cases. Even then it was in high demand and had shipping wait times.

Harry had been called into the President's office while he had been on the phone with the Owner of the company. He had apologized as soon as he entered the room then had sat there quietly for two hours not able to listen to anything they said. When he had ended the call, Harry had wasted in silence for five anxious minutes before he had grinned and told Harry that he was welcome to keep the social medias and that he needed everything Harry had done and read by tomorrow so he could send it off to the other branches. However, they had been a few companies that had left the company as they didn't think a man in a pink suit was a good representation of the company. Or whatever the bullshit excuse was. Every President and the Owner had done a press release stating,

"Preserve Earth is an ecofriendly, biodegradable, and compostable company that is LGBT plus friendly. Our employees are encouraged to wear whatever they feel comfortable in as long as it is appropriate for their position. We encourage all of our employees to be their authentic selves and to be whoever they want to be and to wear whatever they wish to wear. The Chief Media Officer dress policy states and I quote, "The Chief Media Officer must wear business formal attire during press releases that will be aired on television. They are not required, but are encouraged to have their skirts, if they so choose to wear them, at their knee. However, they are allowed to wear them to their thighs, miniskirts are not allowed it must be two to three inches below the bottom. This is to prevent cameras from getting inappropriate shots of a person as they bend, squat, walk up or down stairs, or sit down this is not an act to prevent 'distractions' in the workplace. The Chief Media Officer is required to wear business casual attire to work unless told otherwise." With that said Mr. Styles did not break dress code policy and therefore will not be 'held responsible'. That is all thank you."

Harry had been very embarrassed and had apologized multiple times to his boss, but he had laughed and waved it off.

"Harry I'm forty-three years old and even I know that the world is changing for the better. You can wear whatever you want as long as I do see Harry junior or his two buddies down there. Got that?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Get back to work kid."

Harry had loved his boss and had been saddened when he announced his retirement only three years ago. Mr. Fritz wasn't a terrible boss right away, but after eighteen months Harry and everyone else got a pay cut. Which...okay it was reasonable since they wanted to divert some of the money towards opening another branch and Harry was paid a lot. Then six months later and there was another pay cut. Then employees started getting fired and well...here they were. Three years with a new boss and completely overworked and fearing they were next on the firing list.

"Excuse me." Harry looked up from his computer to see a woman dressed in a black blazer and skirt combo.

"Yes?"

"I need to speak to Mister Payne where is he office?"

"Directly across the hall he's on the phone at the moment."

"Thank you." Harry didn't bother reminding her he was on the phone and went back to typing when he heard another male's voice coming from Liam's office. Harry paused furrowing his brow as he listened to the conversation.

"Sir-" that was Liam, Harry knew that for sure.

"Your job was to contact my networking officers. Miss Caldor is head of Networking at the London branch. I had to find out this branch was broke was through my financial officers. I understand everyone here is overworked and I apologize for that however you did not do your job-" Harry stood up and stormed across the hall entering the office.

"Who the hell are you talking to like that?" Harry asked only faltering slightly when he noticed the large group of people in Liam's office one of them being the CEO/Owner of the entire company.

"Excuse me." Louis said raising a brow.

"Liam has been in constant communication with Eleanor since he started working here five years ago. They exchange weekly emails he told her when we got the first pay cut then the second then the firings. I've been in constant communications with her for over a year. So don't you dare come into his office yelling at him as if he's on the wrong when it was your side who didn't do their job. We barely have enough time to pee during the day let alone write twenty-five emails to your employee to make sure she takes us seriously. I don't give a damn who you are I will not allow anyone who has stuck out this long with this treatment to be blamed while your bullshit Networking officers spent three weeks in the Bahamas two months ago for doing excellent work while this man has put in one hundred hours a fucking week with three pay cuts in less than two years. Also let's not forget that when you first opened your second branch you promised one to two annual visits only for you not to show up for the past six years. So how about you talk to your officers before you come over here and start pointing fingers at people who barley sleep five hours a night for your company. If you would have let Liam speak before jumping down on him, I'm sure he would have been more than happy to show you the email your officer sent us telling us we are being overly dramatic, and no one can possibly work roughly fourteen hours a day. Which we don't we clock out after ten and work the rest of the six off the clock for free. You're welcome for that by the way. Also-"

"Harry." Liam hissed.

"What? No fuck this guy I have a whole lot more to say to this fuck head who thinks he can just waltz right in here and-" Liam covered his mouth and quickly shoved him out of his office locking the door once Harry was out, "Pansy!" Harry shouted before he closed and locked his office door around his office to stare at the document upfront of him. Harry slowly calmed down and continued working until he was interrupted yet again, but this time by three sharp knocks at his door.

"Go away." Harry said.

"Can I at least apologize?"

"There you just did now go away." Harry groaned when he heard his lock turn and he glared at Liam who held up the spare key Harry gave him out of trust, "you're a traitor."

"Sue me." Liam said pocketing the key as Louis Tomlinson walked into his office.

"May I explain myself?" Louis asked.

"That depends is this going to be where you make up an excuse of stress then I, for whatever reason, forgives you despite you not learning from it and doing it again later on? Because if so, then no you may not." Harry spoke as he continued to type too focused on getting this document finished before his train of thought left him.

"He watches too many Hallmark movies around the holidays, and I sort of messed up his tea this morning. He's pissy."

"And not sorry by the way so if you're expecting me to apologize after you I won't. I shouldn't have snapped nor cursed at you, but I don't regret it. Oh, and this isn't me trying to be rude this is me trying to get these words on screen before my train of thought leaves me for a different task." Harry explained.

"Good luck." Liam said before he was hurrying out of his office.

"What is it that you want then?" Harry asked.

"I apologize I didn't realize my Networking Officer wasn't completely honest with me when she told me of the only email she had received which was yesterday morning."

"Thank you."

"So...we're good?"

"Yeah, we're fine."

"It doesn't feel like we're fine." Harry looked away from his screen towards Louis who admittedly not two hours ago he thought was extremely hot.

"I do not apologize for what I said however I do apologize for the way it came out. I should have spoken to you more calmly and more rationally. We're fine now I do have to finish this template before we all meet up together and discuss what's going to happen next. So, give me like...thirty minutes?"

"Thank you, but you didn't need to do that."

"I'm a grown mature man I know when I'm wrong- well in this case half wrong."

"We'll have a meeting in an hour." Harry nodded in acknowledgement then looked at him when he didn't leave right away.

"Yes?"

"Nothing just... Why haven't we met before?"

"Because I live in Manchester, and you live in London?"

"Yes, but I have visited this office quite a few times."

"I lock my office door or I'm busy on the phone. Besides during the annual gala, we all sort of stick to our own coworkers and don't mingle. I especially tend to stick with Liam and Niall who stick close to the back, so we're not spotted sneaking sips of a flask."

"Right. Well, it was nice to meet you, Harry." Louis said giving him an appreciative once over that, unfortunately, made heat rise in his cheeks as Harry focused on the screen upfront of him.

"Yeah...you too." Louis smiled at him before he turned and walked out of the office, Harry quickly stood up and locked his office door again shaking his head. Absolutely fucking not.

#ceo louis tomlinson #Larry Stylinson #larry shippers #larries #larry fanfiction #larry stylinson fanfiction #business owner louis tomlinson #chief officer harry styles #business larry fic

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shhhlikeme · 4 years ago

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“Losty Aone” / “Losty Mountain Man🏔” Series:

Outtake Collection #1

If you enjoyed my Aone series as much as I enjoyed writing it: then you may enjoy this........

Writer’s block is a bitch rn but at least I have drafts to post! I have like 10 or so of these mini outtakes so if y’all want them all please let me know. Personally I’m in love with them cause you guys know how much I love our Mountain Man😭

This is are not a story per se: they are outtakes from my Aone series) that do not follow a strict timeline. But same story line.

What is an Outtake?

Basically, outtakes are parts of yours & Aone’s love story that weren’t included where Part 0 picked up because it happened either before or after the series.

Remember that Aone crushed on you for 2 years before you two got together detailed in this matchup, so these are glimpses of what kind of interesting things happened during his crushing period.... all the way up until today when you two are happily together. Some are PG and some will be straight up smut after y’all get together. I love writing these omg! If you need any help understanding shoot me a message, but it’s fairly straightforward.

CLICK HERE TO SEE THE SERIES’ TABLE OF CONTENTS!

Enjoy my babies:

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Aone 2 Weeks Into Crushing On You:

“Aone...... stop staring at her.” Kenji scoffs at his friend as they sat down at lunch.

“I’m not.” Muttered mountain man as he dug into his food.

“Okay but you say that.......while still staring at her.” Kenji deadpans in annoyance. He had been watching his best friend stare at his crush on the other side of the cafeteria for the past 20 minutes. Y/N was with the rest of the cheer team—basically the smallest one—laughing vibrantly with her friends. Aone’s heart was tight as he watched you laugh, once again silently wishing you would notice him and perhaps laugh at something he said like that.

“The cheerleaders look really good in their new uniforms this school year, huh?” Kenji tried.

His big friend grunted in agreement but he really only thought Y/N looked phenomenal in uniform. Everyone else looked whatever.

“You should tell her how pretty you think she looks today.”

“Uh, I......can’t.” Aone said without changing his expression. Inside, though, he was a big blushy baby.

“Why not? It’s been two weeks since you first saw her and you obviously kinda like her so I think you should!”

Aone shook his head tightly. “Is that what you would do?” He finally looked at his friend: the only person in Aone’s life that he actually confided in. Kenji nodded.

“Oh, most def. See Y/N’s cheer captain, Katana? I have a little crush on her. Want to see how I tell her?”

“You’re attracted to her. You don’t have a crush on her. There’s a difference.”

“Tomatoe Tomahtoh! Watch.” Kenji calls Y/N’s friend’s name from across the caf at the cheerleaders table. Her face brightens when she sees it was Kenji calling her, and she skips over to their table.

Aone blended into the background as usual when bubbly girls came around. Someone with his silent demeanour didn’t really make waves to them.

Kenji spoke to her while remaining seated, ever the nonchalant semi-fuckboy. He had his hands in his pockets the entire time and Aone just knew that he’d never be able to pull that “I don’t care” vibe off with his crush. When you came around, every nerve in Aone’s body stood at attention and he just focused in on you. He couldn’t help it.

“You look really good in your uniform by the way. Fits like a glove.” Kenji flirted passively.

Y/N’s captain beamed like a newly chosen puppy at the pet mart. “Really?! You think so?! Thanks a lot, Futakuchi!!!”

Aone resisted the urge to roll his eyes at how much these ladies fell over his friends antics.

But Aone couldn’t help but wish you would look at him like Katana looked at Kenji. It had only been two weeks since he’s first laid eyes on you, but you brightened his days unknowingly and he just wanted to be the reason for your smile.

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺😭

Aone heard a tiny squeal coming from his right where the cheerleaders were so he looked over to see you skipping towards them.

🚨 🚨 🚨 HOLY FUCK you were coming to his table! 🚨 🚨 🚨

Aone’s heart literally stopped. He looked to Futakuchi in alarm, though his face seemed unaffected to the average person.

Kenji smirked back at the white haired giant, as if to say “exactly according to plan.”

You approached the table like the bundle of energy you are and Takanobu practically let his static demeanour switch so he could sigh happily as the fruity scent you wore hit him.

You were so close: you were so perfect: and you were so beautiful. Aone’s eyes didn’t leave you for a second.

You stopped beside the table with a smile for your cheer captain.

“Katana! Coach wants us stretching on the field in 3 minutes, let’s go!” Not noticing anyone else, you tugged on your captain’s sleeve and then grabbed her wrist to bring her back to the team.

Katana waved at Kenji as she was being dragged away. “Oh, okay, so I’ll see you Saturday night Kenji?! You can pick me up at 8!”

Kenji nodded nonchalantly, his attention mainly back to his friend who was staring at his retreating crush.

“You could have at least said hi.” Kenji crumpled his napkin, annoyed. “The only reason I asked Katana out is because your crush doesn’t leave her alone for two seconds so I knew she’d come over here. That was your chance!”

Takanobu ate a spoonful of his yogurt, turning only to his brown-eyed future captain solely because you had exited the cafeteria. “Well, I happen to think that was a successful greeting between Y/N and I.” He deduced.

“What?! Are you kidding me?! How?!”

“She’s never been that close to me before. She smells good. Like apples. I like apples, very much.”

Kenji deadpanned. “You hate apples.”

“And now I like them. So, I deem that a success.”

Kenji sighed in defeat as the bell rang to signify the end of lunch. “Listen Aone-san I know this is your first crush and it’s super intense and all, but please—you better not go this slowly in your pursuit of her. A freaking snail is beating you in a race to her heart, man. Y/N is one of the prettiest girls in this school and definitely the cutest on the cheer team so a lot of guys want her.”

Aone frowned, visibly upset at the idea that other men wanted his crush. But he knew that given how perfect you are to him, it just wasn’t logical to believe he’d be the only one who desired you. “I’m well aware, Futakuchi—“

“Good. I’m just saying. You better not wait like 2 years or something to finally make a move. Please, promise me you won’t do that.”

————————————

Aone 1 Month Into Crushing On You When He’s Eager To See You:

“Team, please hurry. We shouldn’t be late to our own pep rally.” Commander-Takanobu of the boys Date Tech volleyball team commanded.

The team of giants was on their way to the gymnasium for the Date Tech High School’s annual pep rally that shone light on the schools most prominent athletic teams: Boys Soccer, Boys Golf, Girls Tennis and the team of yours truly (MOUNTAIN MAN! 🏔).

Kanji laughed as he spun a volleyball on his finger then scrambled to pick it up because it dropped. “It’s cooler to be fashionably late!” He exclaimed loudly in the halls before Futakuchi shot him a look of irritation when the ball he dropped again hit him on the side of the head.

“Heh. Sorry.. senpai. I’m just saying to Aone-kun that Y/N is more likely to notice him if we come into the pep rally looking all cool and late.”

Stopping dead in his tracks, the giant mountain man almost tripped up the rest of the team who was following close behind him. They all yelled in protest as they regained their footing.

Aone ignored everyone, turning around to peer at his early growth-spurted underclassman. “Is this true?” He asked sincerely. “Y/N will notice...uh....me....if we walk in late?”

Stepping in, Futakuchi put a hand on his friend’s shoulder, shooting Koganegawa another glare as he did so.

“Absolutely no guarantee, buddy.” Kenji assured Aone. “Y/N will be really busy cheering, right? Just like the first time you saw her and she didn’t notice you pointing at all. So, chances are slim now, too.”

Aone sighed, disappointed though you couldn’t tell by looking at his face if you weren’t Kenji Futakuchi.

“Oh, okay.”

🙁😩🥺🥺🥺🥺

“You really like her, Aone?” Asked Koganegawa, feeling bad for getting his nice teammate’s hopes up.

Aone nodded, feeling an ache in his heart as he thought about how much he cared for you, his perfect crush.

“But you guys are so...........different. I mean she’s like always overly nice and bouncing off the walls and talking in class and stuff, right? And you’re just............not?”

“I like Y/N just the way she is, and for everything that she is.”

“But.... and I mean NO disrespect, but.........does she even notice you? Uh... she just seems so consumed with cheer and all things rainbow. She’s always ignoring anyone who isn’t in her social level—“

Aone shakes his head as the ache in his heart becomes a bit more painful at his teammates words.

“Y/N does not notice me. Not at all, unfortunately. But I notice her. Everyday. And that in itself makes me happy.”

GUYS I CANT —— ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️😭

The team nodded in pity, the lot of them collectively feeling really sorry for their best player and his unrequited love.

Kenji clapped his hands, startling everyone out of their misery filled states.

“Okay! The good news is that we have a pep rally to attend, right now, right?! Aone, be happy— you get to see Y/N in uniform again today!”

Aone’s eyes lit up, only recognizable by Futakuchi, as he nodded.

“Yes. Let’s go.”

Kenji Futakuchi stayed behind a few extra seconds as his teammates strolled on ahead. He had to take a moment to himself to think about how he would be there for Aone when his heart got shattered for the first time....by a girl (you) who is in the same school and class but hasn’t even noticed his existence yet.

Y/N didn’t return Takanobu’s strong feelings—that Kenji knew for sure—and so he just prayed that his big scary looking friend would never have to find that out for himself.

————————————

Aone 4 Months Into Crushing On You And Hears That You Have A Crush On Someone Else ☹️:

Sprinting outdoors, Kenji had to clasp a hand over his open gym bag to catch up to his friend who had already started walking home without him

Being that Aone has waited to walk home with Kenji every single day since they started first year together ... it was clear to Kenji that whenever his friend did this.... it was a sign that he was very upset

“Hey, big guy!” Kenji fell into step with his white haired friend, chancing a glance up at him.

Takanobu was famous for his perpetual scowl or angry frown which he had on his face even now, but Kenji knew better than to believe it. He could tell whenever his friend was deeply upset or hurt, just like Aone had been when they were 10 and the Takanobu’s divorced.....but right now, by Futakuchi’s analysis: Aone was feeling far worse than he did back then.

“Who told you, big guy?” Asked Kenji with an accompanied sigh.

“Koganegawa. It slipped.” Carrying on the silent topic-less conversation.

Kenji growled. “That big boned setter! When I see him next practice I’m gonna—“

“No. It wasn’t his fault. I was going to find out eventually. But why didn’t you tell me, Kenji? I would have much rather heard it from you.”

“I’m so sorry man. I was going to on our walk home today.”

Aone nodded, instantly being able to tell that that was Futakuchi’s true intention.

“Y/N’s crush......the guy on the baseball team.....He likes her...back?” Mountain man only stared straight ahead, trying not to let his hurt seep through his voice.

The brunette boy stuffed his hands in his pockets, dreading this conversation already.

“From what I heard of their conversation....y-yeah. Apparently they met at the last baseball game and it started raining so he gave her his team jacket to keep warm—“

“—I don’t need to hear the logistics.” Aone felt his heart tighten even more as his usual fantasy of you looking beautiful wearing his “#7” Date Tech Volleyball Jacket being bumped to the side by a visual of you wearing the baseball jacket of some guy who doesn’t deserve you.

“Hey, no one knows how serious they are, right? They’re just talking.”

“Does he make her happy? I mean... did Y/N look happy when he gave her his jacket?” Even though it was killing Aone to even ask, he was glad he did.

The brunette player, on the other hand, did not want to answer. For when he saw his best friend’s crush and her new crush together, she looked extremely happy. It formed an immediate knot in Kenji’s stomach because he knew how much seeing those two would hurt his best friend. But if he was being honest when that jacket was put over your shoulders your smile had been wider than Kenji would like to admit.

“Relatively..uh...happy, I guess.”

Aone’s frown deepened. He knew Kenji well enough to know that he was trying protect his heart on Aone’s behalf. He didn’t call him out on it though, he knew that your smile must have been wide. You probably did seem happy..

It hurt him intensely. Looking away, Aone stated something matter of fact:

“Well, he isn’t good enough for her.”

Futakuchi looked up at mountain man. “You know him?!”

“No. I don’t need to in order to know that she’s too good for any guy at this school, including me.”

Kenji laughed, patting his friend on the back. “You’re closest though,” he encouraged. “Maybe you should—“

Kenji was immediately silenced as both him and mountain man were greeted with an ugly sight. A depressing sight, actually.

Standing to the right of the front school doors was Y/N and the baseball boy. Y/N had her hair up in a high ponytail that looked absolutely gorgeous on her in Aone’s opinion. What wasn’t gorgeous, however, was how you were swatting the baseball player’s arm flirtatiously and speaking energetically with him. You held your school books close to your chest like Aone loved because you looked so cute and smart even though he knew you never opened those books.

He tried to look away—he did—but the team knew that Aone never looked away when he saw you at school and unfortunately that kind of old habit is sure to die hard.

“Just keep walking, buddy....” Kenji tried, swapping spots with Aone so that Kenji was at least partially blocking the heart-breaking view that is his best friend’s crush flirting with one of her many pursuers. Kenji kind of wanted to push the guy into the doors as they walked past them “accidentally” but his better judgement told him otherwise.

————————————

Aone 4 1/2 Months Into Crushing On You While You Have A Crush On Someone Else 💔:

Back at their signature lunch table, Aone sat with his best friend and some other members of the volleyball team.

The big-boned setter was exuberantly telling the team a story about him and his brother when Futakuchi noticed that his white haired friend was the only one at the table not listening at all

In Aone’s defence, he was paying attention during the first half of his underclassman’s story tale.....well, until you walked in to the cafeteria.

No one even blamed him because they knew about his intense crush on you—

You captured all of the big man’s attention whenever you walked into a room, it was just second nature now.

Aone loved seeing you smile and talk with your friends but he hated when you would talk to those who liked you as more than a friend—

That damn baseball player had approached you again just now and it really pissed Aone off.

You looked up and chatted with the baseball boy happily, just as you did with everyone (except for your enemy: the class snitch because fuck that guy)

Aone’s eyes fixated on the pair of you.

He was so sad because he liked you so much 💔

His feelings grew stronger everyday, and it hurt him to see you two in the hallway or in class flirting like it wasn’t destroying his heart

Aone knew that it wasn’t logical that he could choose to never make a move on you and still expect you to like him .... that much he admitted to himself

But he at the very least hoped you’d notice him.

Even though he was silently crushing: once you noticed him he’d take it from there, he knew he would

But until then...... you just went about your days looking beautiful as ever, chatting your business loudly in class so Aone could hear, ultimately making him fall for you even more

In the cafeteria that day you had not a clue that when you were just being friendly to one of your admirers (that you actually had 0 feelings for), in actuality— you were simultaneously crumbling the heart of a certain white haired giant who would one day become the most important person to you .......in a year and a half.

————————————

Outtake #2: CLICK HERE!

#aone can get it #aone takanobu smut #aone takanobu #aone takanobu x you #aone x y/n #aone x reader #hq aone #haikyu aone #kenji futakuchi #sexy hq boys #losty aone #mountain man #haikyu headcanon #koganegawa kanji #haikyuu boys #haikyuu fluff

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 7 -- Perfect Harmony | Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Emily Fox is a talented 17-year-old with a passion for all things music. Her dream is to become a successful singer-songwriter one day. But to achieve that dream, she needs to get into one of the most prestigious music schools in her district – it’s all been part of her plan since she was six. Sadly enough, those schools cost a ton of money that her parents don’t want to invest. They don’t even want her to pursue her dream. So, now Emily’s hustling, working at the music store to save up to get into college. That’s until she meets Charlie, an annoying seventeen-year-old boy with the same dream as her. The only difference is, he’s just doing it. He doesn’t need a fancy college to pursue his dream to become famous with his band. He just writes his songs and books small gigs here, there and everywhere. Will meeting Charlie defer her from her dream college, or will he actually help her achieve the dream?

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x OC (Emily Fox)

Warnings: mentions of death, sexual assault

Important note: the characters of Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and Madison are based on the characters they play on the show and i do not own their names, only OC are mine. The songs aren’t mine either, they’re all from the show except for one.

Chapter seven

~|Emily Fox|~

“Hey, you want to hang out after school today?” Madison asks me on Monday at lunch. “Oh, I—” I think of the most plausible lie, “I promised Ash I would close up again tonight. She’s got this thing with her girlfriend. I don’t know what, but she said it was important.” It’s not even that big of a lie. Ash has asked me that many a times before for the exact same reason. Only this time, she didn’t ask me to close the store. I want to go and tell Ash I will close it, for free, just so I – hopefully – bump into Charlie again tonight. I want to tell him I nearly finished the song and ask him if he has any clue what’s missing. “What about tomorrow?” I take a bite of my sandwich and chew ferociously, guarding my mouth with my hand to show her I can’t talk yet. “Got a shift from four until closing.” That’s not a lie. Tuesdays are mostly shift days anyway. “Wednesday?” I realize I can’t come up with another lie that I have to work. And besides, I think I could hang out with Madi until just before closing time and head down to the Music Store after. “Sure, yeah, Wednesday could work.” The brightest smile appears on her face at the answer. “It’s a date!” she pats my hand twice excitedly. “You know, we’ve been spending a lot less time together since you started working at the Music Store. I feel like I don’t even know what’s going on in that mind of yours.” I widen my eyes at that. If only she’d know. “Seen Cute Douchebag again?” “Uhm, no, I think he’s given up,” I lie. I can’t get into Charlie right now. She’ll know by the first word I’m crushing on him. Like really crushing on him. And she’ll say something crazy that I’m in love with him and it’ll get me to start thinking about that and I can’t have that right now. “Oh, sad. I really think you and him would make a cute couple.” The words nearly make me choke on my sandwich. “And he could help you write songs and get you into that fancy school of yours…” she trails off at the end, and I know exactly what’s coming next. “Or help you become famous.” I mouth the words along, earning a glare from my best friend. “I’m serious, Emmy.” A shiver runs down my spine at the nickname. “Don’t call me that,” I warn her. It’s what Uncle Robert always used to call me and Madi knows. “You know that name is reserved for someone else.” Madison holds up her hands in defense and quickly changes the subject. “You know Brianna’s doing her annual party next week right?” I nod my head. “Are you going?” “I’d rather die than go to a Brianna Holly party,” I snort, trying not to imagine me at that party. “Besides, you do know witches lure their pray into their house to eat them.” “I’m pretty sure that’s just from Hocus Pocus and it was mostly kids,” Madi corrects me. “Seventeen-year-olds are still kids,” I argue. “You’re seventeen years old, Ems,” she points out. I open my mouth to reply something to that, but then close it, not sure what to say. “Besides, she’s no witch. That there,” she points to the other side of the cafeteria, to the “popular table” where Brianna and Jake are seated. “Is a demon.” I watch Brianna as she cackles her witchy-demon laugh and can’t disagree. “You’re right.” Madi and I both pack our lunches back up and grab our stuff. “When am I not?” she wiggles her eyebrows, the way only Madi could. The two of us giggle our way out the cafeteria and to our lockers, getting ready for the other half of the day.

The day went by really slow. School normally has a bit of a slower pace, but I think turtles might go faster than this day went by. And it’s especially agonizing when you look forward to something that’s happening after school. “Ugh, finally!” I groan once Madi and I exit the school. “This day went agonizingly slow today.” “Eh, it was fine,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. “Yeah, because you don’t have a cute boy waiting for you,” I mumble under my breath, hoping she didn’t hear. When I subtly turn my head to watch her reaction, I find her distracted by some other cute boys. The lacrosse boys. Of course. For once I thank heaven for high school jocks. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mads,” I say before leaving, but I doubt she heard it, so I shoot her a text instead. “You seemed a bit distracted by the Lacrosse boys. Had to go. See u tomorrow xx”

I don’t think I ever managed to walk from school to the Music Store this quickly. I arrive in under five minutes, when it usually takes fifteen, twenty when Madi walks along. “Emily, hey?” Ash greets, a little confused by my presence. “Hey, you mind if I close the store today? I want to work on my songs and don’t want to disturb Uncle Mitch tonight.” Ash gapes at me with big eyes and an open mouth. “I’ll do it for free.” She closes her mouth at this and narrows her eyes instead. “I know what this is about,” she says as the bell over the door rings. “That’s what this is about.” She nods her head towards the door. I turn around to indeed find what this is about entering the store. I quickly turn back to Ash before making eye contact with Charlie and offer her a sheepish grin. “Please?” I almost beg, hoping I don’t sound too desperate, but also thinking I might already be past desperate. “I swear, you don’t have to pay me for this.” Ash shakes her head at me. “You’re so desperately in love with him, sweetie. I hope you realize that.” I furrow my eyebrows at this, now it’s me shaking my head. “No, he’s just –” Ash finishes my sentence for me, “Incredibly attractive? Yeah – I noticed. I’m still bisexual, sweetie.” She winks at me before hopping over the counter and passing Charlie in the store. “My colleague will tend to all of your needs tonight,” she tells him loud enough, so I hear it to. She even turns her head to look at me, just to make sure I heard her. “See you tomorrow, Ems!” she raises a hand as a goodbye before exiting the store. “Tend to all of my needs, huh?” Charlie asks with eyebrows raised. This time, however, it doesn’t sound as fuckboy-y as it did the first night. It has a nervous quality to it due to him not daring to look at me. “Actually,” I say as I reach into my backpack to grab my notebook with all of my songs inside. Most of them written on loose papers, just stuck between pages of the book. “I need you to tend to some of my needs.” He snaps his head up at this, raising his eyebrows at me suggestively. “Not like that,” I scold and make my way to the piano. “I nearly finished the song, but I’m missing something, and I was wondering if you could help me out.” He leans over the paper to take a better look at the paper. Our shoulders touch, and I nearly feel my head explode at the simple touch. “Huh, you did use my bridge,” he says, pointing to the scratched out first version of the bridge and his bridge written very tiny next to it. “That’s not the point,” I say quickly, then point to the part I do want to talk about, “I don’t want to use the exact same chorus twice. I think it might sound better with something like…” I trail off and play a few notes on the piano. “You set me free You and me together is more than chemistry Love me as I am I'll hold your music here inside my hands We say we're friends, we play pretend…” I look up at him for him to add something to it, which only takes him a few seconds. “You’re more to me, we’re everything” I smile at him. I knew he’d be able to fix my problem. “When are you going to show it to me entirely?” he asks after a few seconds. “I am, aren’t I?” “No, I mean, when are you going to sing this with me?” I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. I can’t do this yet. The song isn’t tweaked to perfection yet. I need a few more days before I can really show it to anyone. “Not yet, I want to get it perfect before I can show it to anyone.” I put the loose papers back into my notebook after having scribbled down the addition. “It just needs some tweaks.” I repeat, then look up at Charlie to find him already looking at me with that loose smile on his face and his eyes golden. “So…” he then changes the subject after a few seconds of complete silence that feels like a soft blanket, “We practically wrote a song together… I thought you said you wrote alone?” My heart stops beating for a moment as I think about the real reason why I don’t write with anyone else. Uncle Mitch told me to be honest. So, I probably should. Unless I want him to leave me alone for the rest of my life. Which I don’t. I want to see him every day and spend each possible moment with him. “I—” I take a deep breath, “It’s stupid. It’s a lame excuse, never mind.” I want to turn and walk away from him to properly start closing up the store, but Charlie grabs my hand and keeps me from walking away. My eyes glide from his hand holding mine to the arm connected to it and to the face that I’ve come to enjoy looking at. “You can tell me, Ems. Whatever it is. However stupid. I want to know why. I want to know why you won’t write with me. We’d be amazing together. Look at that song we wrote together without even realizing. From what I can see on paper, it sounds amazing. You’re really talented and I think we could make real magic together.” I draw in a deep breath, my hand shaking a little in his. I wonder if he feels how nervous I am. “Okay… It’s, uhm…” He stares at me with tentative eyes, urging me to continue, telling me to trust him. “I used to write songs with my Uncle Robert. He’s the one that taught me everything. He taught me how to read music, how to play piano and guitar, we used to sing together every day from morning until evening. When I got old enough, around twelve years old, we wrote our first song together. Albeit, it was about my bunny that died, but still, it kind of rocked.” The sniffle that comes after the chuckle makes me realize I’ve started crying. Charlie’s chuckle reaches my ears and encourages me to continue telling him. “Uncle Robert died a year ago. So, I haven’t really written with anyone else because it feels like betraying him. It was our thing, you know? I just… it doesn’t feel right.” Charlie reaches up with the hand that’s not holding mine and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. The simplest touch sends shivers down my spine and butterflies into my stomach. “That’s not a lame excuse, Ems. I get it,” he reassures me with a small smile, “I just think that if you ever feel like you could start writing songs with me, we’d be able to create the most beautiful masterpieces, just like the song we wrote together now. Times ten,” I chuckle at that, “In perfect harmony.” My eyes widen at that as an idea pops into my head. I tug my hand out of his in a rush and grab the piece of paper with our song on, just to write “PERFECT HARMONY” at the top. I turn my face to look at Charlie with the beautiful smile on his face again that makes me feel all warm inside. “That’s perfect,” he tells me, “Can you sing it now?” I raise my eyebrows at him, as if saying “Really, bro?” and he raises his hands in defense, knowing exactly what the simple non-verbal communication means. “Now sit down and play some guitar so I can clean up in here.” He salutes me and goes to grab the guitar he always uses when he’s here. He sits down and strums the guitar. “This is tuned different from the last time I was here,” he notices. “Other people use those instruments, Charles,” I tell him, knowing all-too-well it was me who tuned it differently. On Thursday to be exact. I was missing him and decided to play some guitar myself. The exact moment Owen came in and asked me about the Open Mic Night. “You did that, didn’t you?” he raises his eyebrow. I feel my cheeks heating up but turn quickly so he doesn’t see. “Don’t be silly, Charles. Why would I use your guitar when I’m working?” I question whilst keeping myself preoccupied by sorting some papers, mainly to calm my heart down a little. “My guitar?” he emphasizes the ‘my’. “I mean, that guitar.” He stares at me for a moment, and I hear Madi in my mind going “Mmh-mmh…” “Just play your instrument, dumbass.” I return to my job whilst Charlie plays his guitar for a while. Once I’m done and I can lock up, Charlie places his guitar back in its place and joins me at the door. “Hey,” he says, once outside. I turn to face him after turning the key. “Thanks for letting me play in there. It’s nice not having parents yelling at you for not making so much noise.” I offer him a smile, and hope it says enough about how similar my parents are. “No problem, Charlie,” he startles at the lack of full name-usage, “See you tomorrow?” “Yes, definitely. See you tomorrow,” he gives me a wave and the two of us split ways. Ash is right. I am desperately in love with him. I don’t know what it is. Sure, he’s attractive, but I would be repulsed by boys that approach girls like he did that first day. Overly confident, thinking they own the place. Jake’s like that and I learned from my mistakes. But Charlie is just… different. There’s a warm, golden heart underneath all that confidence. Plus, ever since I rejected him that first day, he’s been really tentative and kind of nervous every time he’s around me. Which must mean he’s not the Douchebag he seemed to be. Charlie is… Charlie. And I am absolutely, totally smitten.

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