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saeyoungchoismaid · 4 years

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Hanahaki Disease

Pairing: Asmo x gn!reader Genre: nsfw themes in the beginning, angst, fluff Warnings: listening in on others having sex and masturbating is briefly and vaguely mentioned in the beginning. Mentions of blood. choking, suffocating, ‘dying’ Summary: Many choose to forget their love. You don’t know if you have that option. Word Count: 5.8k ObeyMAX day: July 10 - Asmo

Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from unrequited love. Flowers begin to bloom in your lungs, feeding off of the tissue, and using your nutrients as its own. If your feelings aren’t returned, the flowers will continue to grow until they suffocate you. The only cure, besides having the love returned, is to remove the flowers from your lungs. However, if you go through with this procedure you will lose all memories of your love. Many choose to forget, you don’t think you want to make that choice.

You clutch your pillow tightly as you listen to the moans and all other sorts of lewd noises leave Asmo’s room. You know it’s Asmo room for a multitude of reasons. One, the succubi has apparently never heard of using their indoor voice and is just saying Asmo’s name like a mantra. Two, your room is directly next to his room, per your secret request to Lucifer. You’re now regretting that request.

Before you can even think of any more reasons, which there are plenty of, you hear the succubi scream in pleasure which means they are probably cumming for the third time. It’s quite annoying actually. Mostly because you’re hating yourself for getting turned on. On one hand, you're sick to your stomach and can’t stand to listen to them.

On the other hand—well, that hand is currently shoved down your underwear. You can hear the way Asmo is moaning and grunting, his bed squeaking with each movement. Yeah, you’re pretending that your hand is him above you making those noises. It didn’t take long for you to start moaning softly, your body’s temperature growing as your pleasure does.

Amazingly enough, you and Asmo cum at the same time. Well, you’re assuming so. His moans got higher pitched and louder before slowly drifting off. You pant and open your eyes to find your dark ceiling, the cold room starting to creep over you.

Your eyes fill with tears as you go limp, your hand just resting inside of your pajamas as you cry. You eventually get out of bed to clean up, knowing you won’t be able to go to sleep feeling all sticky. This doesn’t stop you from crying. The longer you cry, the worst you feel.

You’re in the shower when it first happens. You start to cough violently, your tears going from sad, self-loathing tears to lack of oxygen tears. You lean against the cool tile as you practically cough up a lung, your body shaking in fear.

Something then falls past your lips and lands wetly on the floor of your shower.

You don’t even notice it at first, too busy trying to regain air into your lungs. Did you cry so hard you puked? You look down to find that the water is trying to carry something pink to the drain. You blink a couple of times before rubbing at your eyes. Maybe your vision is just blurred? Is it blood?

Once you rid your eyes of the rest of your tears, you bend down to get a better look. You still aren’t completely sure what it is, so you gently pick whatever it is up. You unfold the wrinkled object and then realize it’s a petal.

Your immediate reaction is to try to figure out what else it could be. A flower petal doesn’t make sense. Why in the world would it be a petal? Exactly. It wouldn’t.

You finish up your shower quickly after that and swiftly get out, bringing your petal out of the shower with you. You set it onto the counter and then wrap a towel around your body, staring intently at the puny thing.

Your next reaction is trying to figure out why you would’ve coughed up a petal. You tried reasoning with yourself. Maybe Mammon is pranking you again and put a petal into your food? But that wouldn’t explain you coughing it up. Maybe Lucifer used a spell to do this? But that doesn’t make sense either because he wouldn’t do something that would cause you harm. Maybe Solomon did a little magic? He doesn’t seem like the type to do something like this either though.

You sigh and hang your head into your hands, trying to think of any reason as to why this happened. It just leads to you worrying more though. What if you cough up more? How will the guys react? Should you even tell them?

You groan and decide to just deal with it in the morning. You do your after shower routine before going to bed, staring at your blank wall with a heavy frown on your face. It took awhile for you to fall asleep but you eventually managed to do it. Somehow.

“Good morning, my handsome brothers and lovely (Y/n),” Asmo greets as he walks into the dining room for breakfast. You keep your head down as you roll your eyes, trying not to bring attention to yourself.

But, of course, just like every morning, Asmo swoops down to kiss your cheek before taking his seat beside you. You don’t reply like you normally do though. You just keep your head down and remain silent. Asmo would’ve noticed if it weren’t for his brothers chiming in.

Satan noticed though.

“Ugh, I hate how chipper you are,” Belphie groans from his seat. Levi snorts and smirks at Belphie before turning it towards Asmo.

“He’s only so chipper because he got laid last night,” he says while chuckling. Mammon instantly gags and rolls his eyes.

“Don’t remind me. They kept me up all night. I even debated on making a deal with a witch to get my hearing to stop working.”

“That’s a great idea! Then, you wouldn’t hear us talk about you,” Asmo singsongs. They then start to bicker per usual. Being reminded of last night only makes you feel sicker. You nibble on your breakfast, feeling your appetite disappear with each word that leaves Asmo’s mouth.

Suddenly, you start to cough just as harshly as you did last night. You quickly grab a napkin and cover your mouth, your eyes filling with tears as you hack away into the white cloth. Satan is quick to stand up and come behind you, ready to do the Heimlich maneuver when you raise your hand to stop him, your coughing slowly coming to a halt.

You look down into your napkin to find another sopping petal, the sight of it adding weight to your already heavy shoulders. You quickly crumble the napkin up, not wanting anyone to see what lay inside.

“(Y/n), are you okay?” Satan asks, placing his hand onto your shoulder. His question makes all the others abrupt with questions of their own. You wipe at your watery eyes as you nod your head, clearing your throat before speaking.

“Yes, I’m fine. All of you calm down. My food just went down the wrong pipe. I’m alright,” you reassure with a warm, but fake, smile. Everyone relaxes at your words, making you relax as well since you weren’t caught.

“I’m not very hungry anymore though. Beel, you can have my share,” you say sweetly, giving him a genuine smile as you slide your plate over to him. He always makes you feel all mushy and happy. It’s just who he is.

He does that little chuckle of his in response as he happily takes your plate from you. “Thank you, (Y/n). I’m glad you’re okay,” he replies sweeter than candy. You ruffle his hair a bit before you look over at Lucifer.

“Is it okay if I stay home today? I’m not feeling too well.” Well, it’s not a lie but it’s not for what they’re thinking. He instantly nods his head as he stands.

“Yes, of course. That must’ve been a fright to choke like that. Do you want me to stay home with you? Do you need anything?” You smile at him now, feeling your chest swell a bit for how much he cares.

“No, no. You have to go see Diavolo today for an important meeting. I’ll be fine. I just have a bit of a headache now,” you say as you gently pat his shoulder before waving to the brothers and making your departure.

After school, there’s a knock on your door. You don’t feel like getting up from your moping party, so you just tell whoever it is to come in. You look over at the door to find Satan, a small frown on his face.

“(Y/n), I…” he trails off, looking around your room instead of looking at you. You sit up at how serious he appears, fear starting to crawl inside your mind.

“It’s okay. You can say whatever it is you have to say,” you say sweetly, sending him an even sweeter smile. He looks over at you and you can physically see his body relax at this. He slowly walks over to your bed and sits at the foot of it.

“(Y/n), what’s really going on? While I was at school, I was thinking about this morning and I discovered something. You barely even touched your food after Asmo came in. You were staring down at your plate and picking at your food until you started choking. You didn’t choke on food, did you?” he says softly.

You stare down at your blanket, mentally cursing Satan for how smart and observant he is. He caught on so quickly. Too quickly.

“No, I didn’t choke on food. If I told you the truth though…” you trail off just as he had done earlier. He decides to copy you as well.

“It’s okay. You can say whatever it is you have to say,” he whispers, gently taking a hold of your hand. He then adds on, “You can trust me with anything. You know that, right?” You look up at him then, a dumb smile on your face.

“It’s both a blessing and a curse to have you as a best friend,” you mumble, almost feeling like crying. He laughs and gives your hand a squeeze, nodding his head in agreement.

“I agree. So, what’s going on?”

You go quiet at his question, debating on telling him the truth or not. But, of course, he can also pretty much always tell when you’re lying. You decide to tell him everything, from taking the shower when it first happened to this morning. He listens intently and doesn’t interrupt, waiting to speak until you’re done speaking.

“You have the Hanahaki Disease,” he replies like it’s obvious. Your brows furrow at this new information, trying to recall anything you’ve learned about this disease. You’ve never heard of it though.

At your obvious confusion, he starts to explain. “Basically, you’re in love with a certain someone and since they don’t return your love, to your knowledge, your lungs are growing flowers, or something. I’m not completely sure about all the details. I read a book on it forever and a half ago. I’d have to do more research on it.”

You nod your head, relaxing and feeling yourself smile at having such a perfect best friend that will help you through this. Your smile fades though when you see his dark expression. “What aren’t you telling me?” you whisper.

He stays silent for a moment before speaking in the softest voice you’ve ever heard from him. “As I said, I don’t know all of the details…” he trails off to gather his thoughts before continuing, “but, if I’m remembering correctly, it can be fatal. There is a cure though.”

Your rising good mood suddenly plummets at this news.

“Fatal?” you mumble, your throat constricting at the thought of dying because of your stupid crush on Asmo. That airhead is going to get you killed! And for what?

You don’t realize you start crying until Satan starts wiping the tears off of your cheeks. “Shh, hey. Don’t cry. Why are you focusing on the bad? I said there’s a cure. I’ll leave and go do research on this. You’re not going to die, (Y/n),” he soothes, pulling you into a hug. You take a deep breath of his calming scent and nod your head, closing your eyes.

“Okay. Thank you. You’re the best,” you mumble into his chest. Your face vibrates as his chest rumbles with his laugh.

“You bet I am,” he replies playfully.

It didn’t take long for him to come back with answers, several books crowded in his arms along with a frown. “Well, that can’t be good,” you say softly as you sit up on your bed, which is where you’ve been hiding out from everyone.

“So, I was right. Hanahaki Disease can be fatal but there’s a cure. You’d have to get surgery to remove the flowers from your lungs or else you’ll suffocate to death.” Your brows furrow at this, seeing that he still looks apprehensive and maybe even angry?

“What else? There’s something else. I can tell,” you say softly.

“Well, you can get the flowers removed but if you do, you’ll forget about the person you love. You’ll have no memory of them,” he says softly. Your heart squeezes at the thought of not remembering Asmo.

“So, I can’t do that.”

“(Y/n)-”

“No, don’t ‘(Y/n)’ me. I’d rather die then forget A—him. He’s my love. I don’t…”

He sighs and walks over to your bed and sits down beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. Your head flops down onto his shoulder closest to you, a frown hanging heavy on your face as tears prick at your eyes.

“You can just say it’s Asmo. Everyone knows,” he whispers softly to you, bringing his hand up to comfortingly rub your back. You turn your head to cry into his chest, your breathing starting to become labored.

“Everyone except for him,” you sob, your whole body shaking. You cry for a while, holding Satan tightly as he holds you just as tight, if not tighter. Once you’ve cried your heart out, he speaks up again.

“Why don’t you just confess to him? I think he likes you,” he says as he pulls away, using his thumbs to wipe at your cheeks. You shake your head and grab his wrists to pull his hands away from your face.

“There’s no way I’m going to tell him. You know him. He brings someone home practically every other night and-” Your cut off by something forcing its way into your throat, causing you to cough and hack until you get the petal out. You spit it out into your hand, panting for air and letting your face cool back off.

“(Y/n), I’m serious. Look at you. You’re coughing up multiple petals a day. If you keep this up, it’ll go from every couple of hours to every couple of minutes until you’re choking on them and not being able to breathe,” Satan says gravely, his own eyes starting to sting as he thinks about you dying in front of him without him being able to stop it.

You smile softly at him and cup his cheek, rubbing your thumb along his cheekbone. “Hey, calm down. We’ll figure something out, okay? I’m sitting with the smartest man in the Devildom,” you soothe, taking deep breaths with him to help him calm down.

“(Y/n), I’ve already read a handful of books and they all say the same thing. Your love either has to reciprocate your love or you have to get the flowers removed from your lungs. There’s no other option. We don’t even know how long you have,” he pleads quietly, tears starting to leak from his eyes.

You sigh and shake your head, bringing your other hand to run through his hair, just as he had done for you. “Hey, don’t cry, okay? I’ll talk to...him. Alright? I’ll do it for you,” you promise. This makes him relax before he pulls you into another hug.

“Thank you, (Y/n),” he mumbles into your ear.

Later that evening, you're laying in bed and trying to coerce yourself into falling asleep which isn’t playing out so well. All your mind can do is play out scenarios of your confession to Asmo. What if he laughs in your face? What if he shoots you down without hesitation? All you can think about is negative outcomes. You can’t even imagine him returning your feelings.

But how could you? It’s obvious he’s not into you. Why would he be when he can have anyone he wants?

Next, your brain liked to play out the scenario of you choking to death right in front of everyone without being able to do anything. Your eyes start to sting with the want of tears, your fears slowly starting to consume you. Before you can think better of it, you quickly jump out of bed and run out of your room. The cool air of the big house hits your bare legs as you run through the hall.

You gasp for air as you reach his door, abruptly knocking on it as you lean against the wall next to it. He’s quick to open the door, looking at you with wide eyes.

“(Y/n)? What’s wrong? Are you choking again?” Satan asks as he swiftly takes you into his arms. You shake your head as you start to cry into his chest, your whole body shaking violently. “Shh, it’s okay. I got you,” he reassures, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he pulls you into his room. He sits you down on his bed, squatting down in front of you once you’re settled.

“Can I stay here?” you just barely whisper. You feel like a child who had a nightmare and is afraid of the shadows that lurk in the dark. Then again, that’s pretty much exactly what is happening. He instantly nods his head in agreement, smiling up at you as he soothingly rubs his hands through your hair when he stands up.

“Of course. You don’t even have to ask,” he reassures. He then leaves the room for a moment before coming back with extra blankets and a pillow. Before he can walk past his own bed, you gently grab his wrist.

“I, um—you should sleep on your bed. I’ll feel bad if I kick you out of it,” you whisper, slowly starting to calm down more. He smiles more at you and sets the pillow and blanket onto the bed.

“Are you comfortable sharing then? Because I’m not letting you sleep anywhere else other than a bed,” he replies as he sits down beside you. You nod your head, sniffling and wiping your tired eyes.

“Yeah. I was, um, actually wondering if we could…” you trail off, your throat constricting a bit.

“Hey, c’mon. It’s me. You can speak freely with me,” he whispers, rubbing your back. You take a deep breath, nodding your head as you work up the confidence to ask him.

“Can we cuddle? I just...I’ve never done it before, and it would make me feel better that you’d be able to feel the signs if I started choking,” you reply in the softest tone possible, staring down at your lap. You look up at him though when he starts to chuckle.

“You’re too pure for this world. Of course, I don’t mind,” he promises, standing up to pull back the covers. He lets you crawl in first and get comfortable before tucking you in on your side of the bed. He then goes around to the other side of the bed and crawls in, making sure to be respectful of your boundaries and to let you come to him. Once he pulls the covers up his body, you slowly sidle over to him and tuck yourself into his side.

Having your best friend here supporting you like this is so reassuring that you can’t find the words to thank him even if you tried.

“Thank you,” you say simply, wishing you could say more. You can hear the smile in his voice when he replies.

“Don’t mention it,” he whispers back before you both fall into a comfortable silence and eventually drift off to sleep.

The only way to describe the next morning is pure chaos. Apparently, one of the brothers saw you two embracing in front of Satan’s room before he pulled you inside.

They, of course, all assumed the worst.

“What did you do to our innocent (Y/n)?”

“Do I need to get my knife?”

“Yeah, what did you—wait, Belphie. You have a knife?”

“Satan, unless you two are dating, this is highly inappropriate.”

And it just kept going. Asmo, for once though, is deadly silent. He wouldn’t even look at you two and just ate his breakfast. He didn’t give you your daily morning peck on the cheek either.

Starting to get annoyed, you huff and roll your eyes before shouting over them. “Can you hooligans shut up for ten seconds and let me explain?” Successfully grabbing their attention, you continue. “I just had a nightmare and went to his room for comfort. Nothing happened, you pervs,” you explain in deadpan.

You watch them all physically relax. Except for Asmo. He still seems wound up tight and ready to snap or break in half at any second.

“Oh, thank god.”

“Belphie, put your knife away.”

“I shouldn’t have assumed the worst and jumped to conclusions. I apologize.”

“Are you okay, (Y/n)? Was it a scary nightmare?” Beel asks, giving you some of his breakfast as an apology. This man is too pure to be a demon. You honestly feel terrible lying to all of them, especially him. Then again, it was basically a nightmare come true.

“I’m fine, Beel. It was...actually terrifying but Satan helped calm me down,” you reassure the sweet man. He smiles softly at you and pours you some juice before you can do it yourself.

“I’m sorry, (Y/n). That must’ve been awful,” Belphie says next to Beel.

“And here we were throwing accusations at you two. I, once again, apologize,” Lucifer speaks up, bowing his head as he apologizes.

You smile at them all and shake your head, moving your hands back and forth in front of you. “No, no. It’s okay, really. I understand why you all had your suspicions. I’m sure it did look bad.” You take this chance to look at Asmo who is still staring down at his breakfast as he slowly scoops food up to his mouth.

You’ll have to ask him about it later.

All the brothers, minus Asmo and Satan, continue to apologize though until breakfast is halfway over. Then, after that, you all finally relax and talk as you normally do. You’re glad because you didn’t know how many more apologies you could take.

You’re walking towards your room after school when you hear Asmo yelling at someone. You pause by his door, not meaning to eavesdrop but you can’t help but to be curious. You jump out of your skin when the door flies open and out walks a succubus. They give you a dirty look as they leave, fully clothed and furious.

You watch them for a moment before looking inside the room to see that Asmo is standing at the door, a deathly grip on his door knob. You clear your throat and give him a small smile. “Hey, I wanted to ask how you’re doing. You seemed a little tense at breakfast and…” you trail off, looking down the hallway to where the succubus just disappeared as they turn, “plus, that whole situation just happened so—”

“How about you mind your own business and leave me alone?” he snaps, cutting you off. Your head whips back to him, your jaw dropping as you stare at him. Did he really just say that? Maybe a side effect of the Hanahaki Disease is hallucinations?

“What—”

“What are you, deaf? I said mind your own business! You’re always so nosey! What? Whoring around with Satan isn’t enough? Do you want to—” He stops in his tracks when your eyes start to fill with tears, his throat closing in on itself. Why is he yelling at you? You did nothing wrong. You didn’t spend the night with Satan because you wanted to sleep with him or something.

He still has a chance.

Before he can apologize though, you start to cough. He waits for you to stop so he can say how sorry he is but you just keep going. Suddenly, your coughing stops and there’s no sound escaping you. But why do you still look like you’re choking?

“(Y/n)? What’s wrong?” he asks quickly, not sure as to what’s happening. Are you pranking him?

Your face fills with color, becoming too dark for his liking. “Help! Someone help! Something’s happening with (Y/n)!” he screams at the top of his lungs as he wraps his arms around you. His touch sends the petal flying from your mouth and you get clarity for a moment before you start coughing again.

He helps you to lay on the ground, seeing that your legs are shaking and going weak. Your eyes leak fat tears as you stare up at him, not being able to stop what’s happening. You should’ve just told him how you feel and tried to get him to fall in love with you. You barely got any time to even decide what to do though. How unfair is that? Maybe it’s because he yelled at you and you thought for a moment that he hates you.

Satan is there within a few seconds, his eyes widening when he sees you choking. He knows how to do the heimlich maneuver, cpr, and anything else you could imagine but none of that will help you. He knows that but he feels his hands itch by his side to do something as he kneels next to you.

“Why are you just staring at them? Do something!” Asmo screams, fearful tears welling up in his eyes. You continue to cough below them and spit out petal after petal, the petals growing in size with each one that leaves.

“I’m sorry, (Y/n),” Satan whispers, holding your hand in his and giving squeezes to help soothe you. He hopes it’s soothing anyway.

Asmo is beyond furious and devastated as he screams at his brother. “Why are you apologizing? Just help them!” Tears fall down his face and land on yours, calming your coughing with each tear. Satan takes notice of this and wipes at his eyes to get a better look at you.

“They love you! That’s why this is happening!” Satan shouts, seeing his other brothers race down the hallway towards all the commotion. When they arrive though, your airway is blocked once more and your face starts to grow dark. Asmo looks away from you to Satan, not understanding what he’s talking about.

“What are you talking about?” he speaks his thought, his hands shaking as he pulls you onto his lap. They watch your eyes roll back into your head, your body slowly starting to grow still.

“I’ll explain later! They’re in love with you and you don’t return their feelings! You—”

“I do! (Y/n), I love you! I promise I do! Ever since you got here, I’ve been head over heels for you!” Asmo sobs, his chest aching with the raw feeling. He’s never admitted it before. He always just told himself it was lust, not the other L word.

They all look down to you, expecting you to breathe and wake right up with a bright smile. But you laid in Asmo’s arms completely still. Satan’s fingers go to your neck, his entire body feeling numb. “They have no pulse!” he panics, going up onto his knees to stare down at you.

You’re supposed to be okay! Asmo confessed his love for you and you’re supposed to be healed! So why aren’t you breathing? Was he too late? Asmo starts to sob, already assuming the worst. Satan keeps staring at you, trying to find a loophole or an unknown answer. His other brothers stand around them and silently cry, not really sure what’s going on but knowing by your still body that it’s not good.

Satan then sees the pink flowers deep in your throat, a gasping flying out of him as his hand goes to your mouth. Everyone watches as he shoves his hand into your mouth before struggling to grab something. He grabs the flower and retches it from your mouth, staring in awe and disgust as he pulls the flower free from your throat. An entire flower connected to a stem comes from you, your chest tugging a bit when Satan reaches a certain point. He yanks harder and the flower suddenly comes free, revealing roots that were stuck inside of your lungs.

“Kiss them,” Satan whispers, hand dropping the flower by your body. The flower is covered in blood and spit, soaking the floor as soon as he drops it. Asmo doesn’t hesitate to kiss you, wanting you to live so he can do all the things he’s been dying to do.

He places a delicate kiss onto your lips, the biggest weight imaginable leaving his shoulders as he finally gets to kiss you. He just wishes it was under different circumstances and that you could actually return it. Your lips felt cold against his but he could care less. Tears are still streaming down his face and landing on yours, sliding down your cheeks towards your hairline.

His eyes snap open when your lips just barely move against his. He would love nothing more than to keep kissing you but that small movement had him pulling back. You gasp for air, your red eyes flying open. You cough and make them all panic that it didn’t work. But then your coughing stops and you’re just laying there and staring up at the ceiling while you get air into your desperate lungs.

Your eyes then move to your love, new tears filling your eyes. Asmo thinks maybe you’re upset with him and that’s why you’re crying. It makes sense to him. You almost died because of him.

“This is the happiest moment of my life,” you whisper hoarsely. Everyone immediately relaxes and even glares at you a bit for scaring them and then saying such a thing.

“You’re such an idiot,” Satan cries, pulling you out of Asmo’s hold and into his own. You weakly return the hug, chuckling quietly to yourself.

“But I’m your guys’ idiot,” you mumble, growing tired as soon as you get all the air back into your lungs and your heart has calmed down.

“You should rest. I’ll explain to everyone what happened,” he says as he pulls away, looking to Asmo. He’s assuming that he would want to help you now that you two are an item. Well, he assumes you are.

“I’ll help them. You can inform me later,” he says softly, gently taking you back into his hold. He brushes your hair out of your face, the softest look imaginable gracing his features. You smile tiredly up at him, leaning into his warmth.

He then helps you up and starts to lead you to your room. “Can we go to your room?” you whisper weakly, feeling him instantly go back towards where you were laying.

“Of course, my love,” he reassures, leading you to his open door. You look to Satan who picks up the wet flower with his already dirtied hand.

“Wait,” you call out. It wasn’t as loud as you hoped but it still got all of their attention. “Can I keep it?” you ask. They all stare at you as if you grew a second head. You just keep your focus on Satan though who is studying you silently from the floor.

“Yeah, of course. I don’t really know why you’d want it though…” he reassures as he gets off of the ground. You smile and lean into Asmo’s side, your eyes tracing the flower.

“It’ll be a reminder that our love prevailed,” you say softly, warming all of their hearts up. Satan smiles at this and nods, sending you a thumbs up with his free hand.

“I’ll clean it off for you and leave it in your room,” he reassures. You thank him before letting Asmo lead you inside and close the door behind him.

“Do you want a bath?” he asks, leading you to the bed to let you sit down. You think about it for a moment, looking down at your body. You could use one, since your shirt has your spit and little drops of blood on it but you don’t want him to see you naked for the first time like this.

You shake your head and weakly point at his closet. “No, I’m okay. Can I just borrow one of your shirts?” you ask unsurely. He instantly smiles and nods as he makes his way to his closet.

“But, of course! I just know you’ll look perfect in my clothes!” he says cheerfully, starting to act more like his usual self. He pulls out a sweater and a pair of his boxers for you to wear. Lucky for you, you’re just in your uniform. You can easily get another school shirt to replace the ruined one.

He walks back over to you and hands you the clothes, sharing a loving smile with you before walking back to his closet to get himself clothes. He keeps his back to you when he hears something drop to the floor, knowing it’s your clothes.

“Can you...help me? It’s hard to lift my arms,” you say softly, a dark blush spreading across your cheeks. He turns to see you in his boxers and still in your bloody shirt, your bottoms on his floor. He shines a smile at you as he walks over to you once more, ready to assist you.

“I’ll do everything I can to help,” he promises. He goes behind you and places his hands on your waist, silently asking if he can take your shirt off. You nod your head, letting him remove it for you. He keeps his eyes to the back of your head, knowing now isn’t the time to thirst over your body.

He helps you pull the sweater over your head and get your arms through, kissing the side of your head when he’s done. “Sorry. It’s just hard to—”

“You don’t have to apologize. All of this is my fault anyway,” he reassures, standing up from the bed to get changed out of his uniform. He hears you lay down, turning to see that you’re giving him the same privacy that he gave you. You’re so precious.

He quickly changes into something comfortable before swiftly going back to the bed, pulling his satin sheets and smooth covers over your delicate body before sliding in behind you. He then snuggles into your back, inhaling your scent as he closes his eyes.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” you whisper, your voice the only sound in the quiet room. His brows furrow as he opens his eyes back up to look at the back of your head.

“What? How can it not be my fault?” he asks confusedly.

“I’m the one who kept it to myself and didn’t tell you,” you mumble. He sighs and tightens his grip on you a bit.

“Hey, don’t stress over it now. It’s all over. You’re mine and laying in my arms. I…” he trails off for a moment, steeling his resolve before saying the three words, “I love you.” He pushes his face into your hair as you reply.

“I love you more,” you promise.

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crowdedimagines · 4 years

Text

Leaked (Finale) Harry Styles

“You guys got to see a very raw and real side of us. It’s a bummer that it wasn’t our choice, we didn’t choose to reveal such a personal thing that happened, not to mention what else has been leaked.” I sigh, finally breaking eye contact with the camera sitting on a tripod in front of us. The fans will be getting a glimpse into Harry’s home for this video.

“I know what I signed up for when I got into this business, very little privacy, but I never expected it to come to this extreme. M’very private with my relationships, and I never want to see anyone-'' He pauses to focus himself again, I place a hand on his thigh and attempt to carry on. Against the better judgement of both Jeff and Jordan we both decided against a script, we had highlighted points we wanted to address, but didn’t want it to seem disingenuous.

“Harry and I lost a child last July.” I pick my head up letting the tears openly fall without letting myself choke over them, “And the song you guys have all heard came from that, a place of hurt and exhaustion. We never expected the world to hear it, and we never thought those pictures would be out in the world either. But that’s life isn’t it?” I laugh humorlessly.

The song was leaked a few hours ago now, my name having never left the top trending on twitter, but now Harry’s and several conspiracies have joined it. People cutting parts from it with raw and loud sobs coming from each of us, open for discussion among the whole world.

“We love you all, but please understand our choice to step back from the public for the time being.” Harry chimes in. We both look at each other and nod, feeling we addressed what we need to.

“Treat people with kindness, yeah?” I ask as we both get up from our spot on Harry’s couch.

“Yeah.” He pulls me in for a hug, as Jeff gets up to cut the camera. Our teams were both getting the footage and posting it to our accounts. Harry and I have both agreed to a break from phones for a bit.

“Okay, so this will be posted across all platforms, on both of your accounts shortly. I don’t think we’ll need to edit much.”

I walk over to the other side of the living room where Jordan is standing reading through her phone, she glances up as soon as she sees me coming. She puts on a smile, and pulls me in for a tight hug. She knows just how long the past few days have been.

“Alright, Paula and I booked flights, we’re heading out this afternoon to go home.”

“What about me?” I question.

“We both know that you need to stay here for a while.” She smiles, “Take some time to heal, just remember you two never fell out of love. Call me if you need anything.”

I glance back at Harry whose now joined by his sister and mother. I don’t want to leave, to be completely honest. The last thing I want is to have to go home to my empty house in L.A. Harry and I ran away from each other last year, maybe this is the opportunity for us to finally stop running.

Harry’s POV

“Don’t you think that you need to heal together this time? You can’t let her leave again.” My mum explains, trying to make her point, as quietly as possible. I watch as she glances over my shoulder to where Y/n must be somewhere.

“Mum, I can’t make her stay.” I shake my head. I couldn’t make her stay before, now we’ve spent so much time apart. All I want is to pull her into my arms, but I don’t know if that’s what she wants after all this time. Hell, after this week she might not ever want anything to do with me.

“No, but you can ask her.” Gemma nods her head in Y/n’s direction as she walks over to join us.

“Harry, can I talk to you?” Her voice is soft and calm. My shoulders visibly drop as I relax and follow her to the back porch. We sit in the same spot on the couch as we did yesterday.

“What’s going on, love?” I ask once we’ve both taken a seat.

“Well, Jordan and Paula are flying out this afternoon.” She says, she pulls her legs up close to her chest.

“And you?”

Please god tell me you’re staying.

“I think I might stay.” She picks up her head, “If that's alright with you.”

I can’t fight off the smile at this point. I just give her a simple nod, pulling her close to lean on my shoulder. I should’ve known that we were on the exact same page, we always have been.

“I don’t think I could go back to an empty house, to be honest.” She sighs.

“I don’t think I could let you walk out of that door again, to be honest.”

Y/n’s POV

“Do you mean that?” I ask, picking up my head, “Truly?”

He simply nods and bites at his bottom lip.

“What are we supposed to do, Harry? I don’t think we can just pick up where we left off?”

“No, but isn’t that the beauty of it? We can try again, try for a different outcome. Build on how much we already love each other.”

“Hmm, how much we already love each other?” I smirk, my tone taking on a teasing edge.

“Mhm.” Harry hums, his cheeks taking on a pink hue.

“Alright Styles, lets give this a shot.”

T W O Y E A R S L A T E R

“Hello? Is anybody home?” Anne’s voice rings out loudly as she lets herself in the front door.

I make my way downstairs, I’m sure that she’s found Harry who's in the kitchen getting dinner prepared. Gemma got here about ten minutes ago. I put on a record and go to stand in the doorway and watch the encounter. Anne gives her son a big hug, stealing a carrot from his cutting board as they make small chat to catch up.

“Hello.” I walk in, making my presence known.

“Look out you!” Anne squeals, “You’re glowing!” She immediately walks over to pull me in for a hug, her hands resting on my belly once I pull away.

“I feel like a bit of a whale, but thank you.” I smile.

“Oh hush it.” Harry scolds.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Like I’m having a baby in four weeks.”

“Yeah, and she’s still going on runs!” Harry says with a proud grin, “Every morning she gets up with me and we run a few miles.”

“It’s pretty much a fast walk for Harry though.” I smile.

“Yeah, but he isn’t forming a pancreas while he does it!” Gemma cuts in making us all laugh. “We’re more impressed with you.”

“Exactly.” Harry presses a kiss to my temple.

I join Gemma at the counter while Anne helps Harry finish cooking everything. I would help, but my ankles are too swollen by the end of the day, and I know everyone in the room would kick me out before I could even start.

“So, things have been going well with everything? You guys feeling ready to be parents?” Anne grins.

“Is anyone ready before they are?” I ask, “I’m just trying to take it one day at a time, and read as much as I can.”

“You guys will be wonderful parents.”

It means the world to hear this from Anne. It’s been weird to be in London for most of the pregnancy and away from my own mother, but it’s been a blessing to have Anne. She’s an amazing mom herself, and she hasn’t complained once over my odd and annoying questions.

“And if not they’ll have the best Aunt ever to make up for it.”

I roll my eyes and take Gemma’s hand in mine and set it on the front of my belly. Moving and adjusting to the exact spot that the little bean is kicking in.

“That’s mad.” She sighs, “I don’t think I would ever be able to get over that.”

“Harry can be like a leech sometimes! Can’t get him off.” I laugh.

“You feel it all, I’m going to steal as much time as I possibly can.”

We all sit down to eat, and catch up on everything that we’ve missed in life over the past few weeks. Ever since the pregnancy both Anne and Gemma have made an effort to come to our house as often as they can for meals, or even just a visit.

I think we were all a bit shocked to find out I was once again pregnant. Harry and I couldn’t believe it at first, I don’t think we wanted to. Didn’t want to risk getting our hopes up. It had been a year and a few months since we got back together when we found out. Four tests sitting on the counter, two thins lines on each of them.

We waited a long time before telling anyone, too afraid that it could be a repeat of what happened those years ago. Once we did finally tell our families they couldn’t be more excited. The fans were too, surprisingly. I debated pulling a Kylie Jenner and just disappearing from the world for months, but I knew I would get too stir crazy. So as soon as the bump was visible, Harry and I both confirmed it on social media.

The fans were happy for us, most of them were so disappointed and saddened about what happened, they felt bad that we were made to share things neither of us were ready too. This time we were trending for positive reasons, and I’ve never felt more supported by everyone in my life.

F O U R W E E K S L A T E R

“Love, are you sure I’m good to go to the studio?” Harry asks for the millionth time, not wanting to leave me home alone so close to my due date.

“Yes!” I laugh, pushing him closer to the door, “You actually have the time while the bean is inside me, I’ll need you here once they’re out.”

“Alright.” He says with hesitancy, “Please call me for anything. The studio isn’t even far from here, so please don’t hesitate with anything.”

“Ok, babe, just go so you can come back!”

“Promise you’ll call?”

“Yes, I promise.” I laugh, he’s always been protective, but now he’s to a whole nother level since the pregnancy.

“Alright, I’ll bring home food too, I really shouldn’t be gone too long.”

“That’s perfect, babe! Maybe we can get - ow!”

He instantly turns around and pulls his hand from the door when I cry out in pain.

“Darling? Are you okay?”

“No, I’m fine.” I hold out my hand, “It was just this really sharp-ow!”

I cry out again, clutching my belly. Before I know it, a warm liquid is spreading down my legs.

“Love, your water just broke!” He cheers, his eyes saying nervous but he has a smile on his face. “I guess I’m not going to the studio.”

“Oh god!” I groan, I start waddling towards the door, “Okay, you grab the go-bag, I’m gonna start walking to the car.”

I know it might take me awhile to get there. I know it’s not true, but I feel like I need to keep my knees shut from keeping the little bean from falling out.

“Right, go bag.” He mutters to himself, slowly becoming more flustered, “Should we call an ambulance?”

“No.” I laugh, taking deep breaths.

“Love, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Just grab the bag so we can go to the hospital.”

“Yeah-”

“Harry!” I yell, “In the coming hours I am going to force a human being out of my vagina. Now I personally would like to do that at a hospital, will you go grab the bag, or do you need me to do it?”

He swallows and runs upstairs to grab the bag and I make my way to the car. It doesn’t take him long at all, now he’s finally had some sense smacked into him.

“We’re really doing this?” He asks, smiling as he pulls out of the driveway.

“We’re really doing this.” I grin, taking his hand in mine.

O N E Y E A R L A T E R

“Happy birthday to you dear, Anderson, happy birthday to you!” We all sing to the little one year old boy I hold tight to my chest.

“Let’s blow out the candles, baby.” I lean forward and blow out the singular candle for the one year old. We made a true event of it, calling everyone we knew practically to celebrate in our backyard, complete with so many games for other children, even though our son was still too young to play most of them. Harry and I couldn’t be more proud of our little boy.

Everyone cheers, I smile looking at Harry who’s got a similar grin. A year in the making to get to this day, lot’s of late nights, but more laughter than anything else. It’s been a wonderful afternoon, everyone loving the little boy who looks practically identical to his father. Cheering as he smashes his little cake all over his face, the table, and his clothes.

“Alright, let’s have Grandma get you all cleaned up!” Anne says as she steals Anderson from me. I smile watching her take the giggly little boy inside to get the cake he’s managed to smear everywhere cleaned off.

Most everyone has left at this point, it has been a packed house to celebrate the one year old, but as it gets later things slow down. It’s finally just down to immediate family and Harry and I can put our feet up for a few minutes.

“Can you believe it? A whole year we’ve been parents.” I lean back into Harry’s side. We’re sat on the outdoor couch, a spot that has grown to contain a lot of heart to hearts over the years.

“No, he’s getting too big too fast.” Harry presses a kiss to the top of my head, “He’s going to be needing another sibling soon.”

I let out a soft chuckle.

“Hmm, is that so?”

“Yeah, who wouldn’t want another kid like that?” We both look over our shoulders to peek in to see Gemma and Anne playing with blocks on the floor in the living room.

“Are you gonna push the next one out?” I tease, I get up and grab the only unopened present that’s remained on the table all day.

“It’s funny that you should say that.” I smirk, turning my attention back on the man I love. I hand him the box, neatly wrapped in polka-dot paper.

“What’s this?”

“Just open it.” I sit down again.

He tears the paper from the box and flips the lid open. His jaw dropping as soon as he sees the contents. Pulling out an olive green tee shirt for Anderson. Simply written across it is “Big Brother”

“You’re teasing me?” His eyes look hopeful though, like he’s praying I wouldn’t tease him like that.

“You can check the four tests in my drawer in the bathroom if you don’t believe me.” I smirk, “Or the fact that I have an appointment at the clinic this Monday.”

“Shut up.” His grin only getting wider.

“Baby Styles number two, coming soon.”

He tackles me down to the couch, a big warm hug.

“Oh my god.” He sighs into my neck. “I can’t wait to do this all again.”

“Me neither.” I grin, rubbing my hands up and down his back. He finally pulls back to get a good look at me, holding my face in his hands.

“God, I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

kinda cheese, but a fun way to end it! this was cute lol

#harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #Harry Styles

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shoutogepi · 4 years

Text

“Fuck You!””I Just Might.”

Bakugou Katsuki

word count : 7.1k holy hecc

[ ✘ (nsfw!) ]

themes : nasty nasties hehe.. choking, angry sex, dom bakugou (what’s new lmao), lots of sexy vengeful teasing, & almost being caught (? idk what to call that haha)

bio : You and Ground Zero are far from getting along in almost every aspect… except for getting off perhaps.

author’s note : wow another smut whodathunkit !!! This isn’t super romantic (Happy VDay my sweets!!) but goddamn if u thirstin today drink tf up bc the SALOON IS OPEN AND HERE’S THE SPECIAL ON DA HOUSE

side note: (Y/H/N) = your hero name, also the sidekick is 100% out my ass not real bc I didn’t feel like doing legit research heheh. also, all characters are aged up to long past UA-grad in this (so everyone is 18+!!)

tagging: @lordexplosionsextra per request -- hope you enjoy bb :) happy vday!

also available on AO3 here

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🄰rms crossed, chest puffing in defiance, your gaze shoots daggers into his stupid smirk. “I’m not your fucking sidekick, Boom-Boy, so you can crawl back into the putrid swamp you came from and take your damn paperwork with you!”

“H-hey now,” Bakugou’s sidekick laughs nervously, hands waving in front of him as he shakes off the jab you just took at him inadvertently.

Bakugou laces his gloved fingers over his lap and kicks back in his chair, straightening his legs so his boots rest on the table across from you. “Listen, Princess, you know the rules. Whoever gets the final blow doesn’t have to do the nitty-gritty shit,” he answers, shrugging nonchalantly.

“You only got the finisher in ‘cuz I was busy doing everything else! You pop in at the last second and get all the credit and no busywork? Fuck off,” you fume, hooking your foot around the leg of his chair and ripping it toward you. Bakugou’s eyes widen as he falls backwards, tumbling onto the hard floor. He grimaces at you from the floor, vermillion eyes ablaze.

“It’s not my fault you’re too stupid to strategize! Don’t start shit you can’t fucking finish yourself!” He barks, voice spiking with fury. Ouch, that one stung your pride a little.

“You’re such an asshole,” you snarl, shoving the stack of papers off the table. The pages swirl in the air and scatter onto the tiled floor, some landing on the instigator’s lap. Bakugou’s palms crackle as his breath is stolen at your audacity. Your sidekick lets out a startled noise, jumping at the sudden popping. Bakugou’s sidekick has his hand on his temple, attempting to rub out the headache forming at this mess.

Why did you two have to hate each other so much?

The two sidekicks stand stiffly against the wall as you shove by them, Bakugou glaring at your ass as your hips swing around the doorway, out of his sight.

It’s late, the purple sky littered with the lights of the lively city. The villain you— or Bakugou, you suppose— had taken down earlier had been the last job of the day and you’re tired of the stupid bullshit he always serves you when the two of you work together.

Usually your agency kept the two of you on opposite boundaries of the patrol area, but you had begrudgingly needed help with this last offender of the day. Your quirk didn’t do incredibly well against villains with close-combat styles, but you could still manage. Unfortunately, the guy that had been causing mayhem earlier was beyond powerful up close, and he had landed a hit that knocked the wind out of you and made you slower than usual. It wasn’t a major injury or anything, but you’d probably have a nasty bruise on your torso after you took off this goddamn gimp-suit of a costume. Luckily, you had visited the in-house, agency healer in the infirmary upon arrival from the job, and they had sucked the nasty welt off your skin and redirected it somewhere else as their quirk allowed. The pain subsided mostly, just a bit sore where the bruise would’ve been.

You close the door to your office gently, a heavy sigh releasing as you make your way toward the desk. It was almost quitting time, but you still had to finish up the paperwork from the other case you had dealt with this morning. Clicking on the desk lamp, you breathe in to calm your frayed nerves, eyes closing briefly as you try to find the energy to finish your work.

The door bursts open, slamming almost immediately and tearing you out of your attempt at meditation. Bakugou stands in there, steam practically billowing from his nose and scarlet eyes flashing with agitation.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He snarls, prowling toward you with an accusatory, gloved finger raised.

“Excuse me?” You quip, irritation revitalized almost instantly. “Who do you think you are, storming into my office after the shit you pulled today?”

He stops in front of you, glowering down at you. You turn your face slightly, your eye level meeting his chest and not wanting to look at that. He was kind of muscular up close like this, you’d never noticed because you’d always created the most distance as possible between you two.

“Oh, you mean me saving your ass? Yeah, my bad, woman,” he growls, letting his gaze linger on the way your eyelashes kiss your cheek bones as you scoff, eyes closed in annoyance.

You glare at him, infuriated. “I didn’t need your fucking help! Did I ask you to come?”

He takes his time to reply, stare holding your attention briefly before he licks his lips. “No, but your sidekick did.”

The sentence is like a cold slap to the face, and you push him backwards with newfound anger. “Don’t fucking lie to me Bakugou,” you seethe, hands clenched into fists. “If you’re gonna lie at least come up with something believable!”

“Tch. She did call me, brat, and she begged me to come to your rescue like you were a goddamn damsel in distress,” he grunts, breaking eye contact with you as he hunches slightly, strong hands shoved into his pockets. Bristling at the refreshed anger rippling off of you, he already knows what you’re going to say. “She said that shitty villain got his hands on you, yeah right you had it under control.”

You don’t know what to say. You can’t really refute that the assailant had managed to hurt you, but you still wish Bakugou hadn’t heard that information. The asshole already thinks he’s the hottest shit in the agency, you really don’t want to give him any evidence of your weaknesses. So you sit on the edge of your desk, sighing once again. “I can handle one hit, dipshit,” you mutter. “It’s already healed anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, you can take care of yourself,” he grumbles, gaze flickering to your grim expression before he looks intently at the picture on your wall.

The silence that ensues is uncomfortable. You had never really talked to Bakugou before-- usually every time the two of you were together you were having a shouting match, throwing insults back and forth relentlessly. You aren’t really sure how to reply, and you absolutely did not want to acknowledge that he had come to your rescue when you actually needed him.

Bakugou is as silent as you are. He wonders where you’d been hit momentarily, before pushing off the thought because god forbid he show emotions. He’d already had his fill of feelings for the day. He sure as hell would never tell a soul, but the second he had seen your sidekick’s name flash across his phone screen this evening, his stomach dropped like he’d been the one to receive the villain's punch, not you. Shoving away the intrusive thought, his trademark scowl surfaces to his face.

“You know, I still haven’t heard a ‘thank you’.”

His irritating voice slices through the tension in the room, and you bristle at his impudence. “Gee, Ground Zero,” he ruffles at his hero name, a frown bending his thin lips,” thanks so much for stealing my job and taking the credit for it too, and really— thank you so much for the paperwork as well. I’m just so grateful.”

“Tch. Don’t be so bitchy, you know I saved your ass today so just fess up and thank me already. You’ll feel better once you spit it out,” he provokes, thick arms crossing over his chest.

“Fuck you,” you hiss, scowling at his smug face. The snarl that breaks his lips is ignored as your eyes turn to slits directed toward him.

He laughs at your malicious look, mouth transforming into a sleazy grin. He can’t stop himself even though he’s a tad hesitant, but his bold and loud nature wins out and he says cooly, “I just might.”

You gape at him, the smile on his mouth escalating your agitation. “W-What?” You choke out meekly, palms pushing you off the desk to stand upright.

He has the gall to grin, taking a step toward you. His heavy boots clunk against the floor, and you move backwards only to bump into the desk again. You cast a futile glare at the desk, and when you look back at him, he’s looming over you. “I think it’s time we acknowledge this thing we have, (Y/H/N).”

Your lips part in surprise, the blush tainting your cheeks slightly. “I have no idea what you’re referring to,” you stammer. Your arms crossing over your chest, he can’t help but notice how your breasts squish upwards, cleavage visible through your skin-tight costume.

“I think you do,” he chuckles with a low voice, gaze regarding the pink pigment gracing your cheeks. He savors it, lips curling into a smirk. His hands meeting the edge of your desk as he leans in, his body brushes against your arms. You rear back, shock evident on your face with lips parted as he tips his head to the side. He cages you in, an unfamiliar look simmering in his crimson irises. “You can feel the tension between us too. I know it, Princess.”

You’re once again at a loss for words. What the hell is happening right now? You think, mind reeling desperately to change the subject. “I hate it when you call me that,” you spit out, looking up to catch his intense stare. It wasn’t dishonest, you hated his pet name for you. Just because you weren’t as careless as him, he’d tacked the snide nickname to you awhile back because he knew it pissed you off. “It’s a stupid name that only your idiot brain could come up with.”

Take the bait, please take the bait.

“The way you treat me like I’m beneath you, what else can I call you?” His breath fans against your cheek and you hate to admit it’s fresh and minty, not at all as nasty and troll-like as you’d convinced yourself it would be. “But I guess that’s ‘cuz you really wouldn’t mind having me under your lap, right?”

You gasp at his crude suggestion, knees smacking together as your thighs clench automatically. “Fuck off, Bakugou,” your voice trembles slightly, your palms hesitantly landing on his chest. Your attempt to push him is less than half-hearted, and he smiles at your crumbling resolve.

His fingers skim along the small of your back, perching his hand on your waist. You can feel its warmth through your costume and his glove, and your body bends into his hold on its own accord, your ass pushing back while your chest grazes his. He exhales harshly, his other hand docking on the top of your stiffened thigh, thumb falling into the curve between your legs. You wish it was higher up, and the recognition of your craving makes your blush a few shades darker.

“What was that?” He snickers, lips brushing your earlobe as his nose pushes away your cascading hair. He didn’t expect you to smell so good after a long day of fighting crime.

Your fingers grab onto his costume, clawing at the material and you’re not sure if it’s in anger or desire. But Bakugou is sure, his fingers rubbing your waist as he glances at your restless hold on his costume. “Oh, bite me,” you spit out, your bottom lip caught between your teeth.

His lips touch your jaw, and you can feel the sneer that rests so prominently there. “Manners, Princess… say please,” he chides, tongue poking out to trace the soft skin there.

A quiet moan escapes you and Bakugou groans loudly in response. He draws his face back to lock eyes with you, stare taught with the tension the two of you have built over all this time.

“You gonna tell me you’ve never thought about us fucking?” He inquires, eyes darting to your lips and returning to your gaze. “All those times we riled each other up, every time we pushed each other’s buttons over and over— you gonna say you never thought about getting me to shut the hell up by any means necessary?”

Your eyes roll in your head, from a combination of lust and disbelief. You cannot believe you're letting him hold you like butter in his hot hands, melting you and licking you up. You glare at him, his lips just close enough to distract you. You weren’t going to let him mould you like putty anymore. “I bet you wanna think that I have, Bakugou,” you whisper, and he looks at you with mild surprise adorning his handsome face. Your blush infects him immediately, a flush spreading over his own cheeks and he’s suddenly very glad his costume has a mask. “You think I haven’t noticed you checking me out every second of the day, Boom-Boy?”

He seems at a loss for words as your wrists wrap around the back of his neck, pulling his face down and level to yours. His brow bursts into a sweat as one of your hand curls around his costume’s throat piece, trailing south and following the delicious line between his pecs down his abs. Your fingernails scraping through his costume, his skin prickles as he gasps. Your lips meet his stubbled jaw, mirroring the action he had performed to you a moment ago. His fingers tighten their hold on you, his body jerking almost invisibly at the contact. “You ogle at me much more, little Miss Priss,” he says cockily even though his voice sounds forced.

It was your turn to curl your lips into a sultry smile, half-lidded eyes regarding his shocked, eager stare. “I thought I told you not to tell your phony lies, Bakugou,” your murmur against his jawline, hand curving around his pelvis and to drag down his outer thigh. “It’s a sin to lie, you know.” Your fingers skim the very ridge of the bulge in his pants, teasingly tracing the outline and watching him close his eyes, his grin seeming strained.

“You know a lot about sins, then?” he pants, sliding his hand down from your waist slowly, fingertips stretching eagerly to push into your plush ass.

You nip at his skin playfully, and he shudders in response. Your raise your head to meet his hungry gaze, your coy smile still beaming. “I might… You want me to demonstrate my knowledge?” Your tongue parts your lips, eyes falling to his slightly agape mouth. Your breath tangles, and his eyelids flutter shut as your lips graze.

The hand on your thigh grips your flesh tighter and you whimper, your mouth tingling at the harder contact of the kiss. His other hand slides south and cups your tailbone, calloused fingers bringing your ass toward him. The sudden movement surprises you, and you grab onto his neck, making his chin dip down as your hips slide into his crotch. You clash into him, your lips colliding as sparks fly through the air.

You both moan into each other’s mouths, the kiss desperate and hot. Your tongue pokes out to probe his bottom lip and he gladly receives your wet muscle with his own. Your legs trapped between his shuffle as you wiggle your hips, savoring his fiery hands gliding over your figure.

Bakugou’s hands are firm but warm, caressing your waist and hips and heating them up. He growls as your hips buck against his, rubbing the tent in his baggy pants. One of his hands slides along the smooth fabric of your hero suit, cupping the swell of your breast in his large palm as his thumb runs over your nipple. You throw your head back, and his lips gladly blaze the trail of your throat with a scorching urgency. Your fingers move to his arm pieces, clamoring at the top of the machinery near his elbows. He gladly slides the gadgets off, placing them in one of the chairs facing your desk while he rips off his black gloves. He hastily throws the neck piece onto the seat as well before he turns and captures your lips once more.

When his fingers return to your hips, you can feel the true heat of his burning palms through your bodysuit, making you arch into him wantonly. His tongue battles yours fiercely, both of you fighting for dominance as his hands glide up to your waist and fumble with your belt. You can feel his rigid muscles through his thin tank top, your hands wandering greedily underneath the right material to touch his smooth skin.

Bakugou smirks as your belt falls onto the desk, hands falling and grabbing onto your ass cheeks eagerly, pulling you closer to his body. You take the chance to shove your tongue into his mouth and he groans at the impact, jaw slackening as he allows your tongue to take control. He grinds into you slowly, making your thighs tremble with apprehension. His mouth detaches from yours, and the string of saliva connecting your tongues is sliced as his shirt flies through the air. You drink in the sight of his naked chest, muscles swelling and flexing, tapering down into a delicious V that disappears underneath his belt.

You grab the belt, yanking his body close to yours again and sighing as your lips meet once more. “You’re really man-handling me Princess,” he comments amusedly into your lips as your fingers grapple with his belt, toying with the latch.

“Shut the fuck up,” you snarl, teeth sinking into his bottom lip and harnessing a moan from him,” and touch me already, pussy.”

His vermillion gaze ignites, mouth crashing onto yours as his fingers slide underneath the swell of your ass. He lifts you like you’re but a paperweight, and you moan as your legs wrap around his hips. His tongue crushing yours, his kisses so intense that your head leans back at the sizzling force. You jump slightly as your ass meets the cushion of your desk chair, eyes opening to see he’d rounded the desk and knelt in front of you. His knees on the ground, he looks up at you haughtily, hands coasting slowly down your legs toward your center. “Is this where you want me?” he feigns innocence and you glare down at him. His thumb hooks the crotch of your leotard, and he shoves the material to the side roughly, making you gasp.

The cool office air greets your cunt, making it throb even more in arousal. “Bakugou,” you whine as he watches your face, shifting your hips in a feeble attempt to catch his attention. He slinks down, lips brushing over your panties softly as he watches you squirm. He grins against the black lace, thumb curling around the skinny part of the thong over your asshole, making you shiver.

“You’re right Princess,” he grumbles, tongue gliding over the wet spot that had leaked through the material, inhaling your scent pervertedly as he closes his eyes in triumph. Your bottom lip is prisoner to your teeth again as you watch his teasing movements, unable to tear your eyes away from him. “Sometimes when you’ve got me all riled up, I jerk off thinking about how good your bratty little ass would look bouncing on my dick.” You can’t help but whimper at his confession, rolling your hips against his mouth in desperation.

He smirks up at you, crimson irises glittering with savory mischief. His hands snake around your thighs, clutching onto the junction they meet your hips with vigor. He pushes your body down into the seat so you can’t wriggle any longer, and he feels your cunt clench against his chin when he nips at your panties, teeth dragging along your clit. You wail his name again lowly, harsh breaths ripping through your lungs.

He growls in response, thumb ripping the lace to the side and exhaling at the sight of your swollen cunt, grin broadening at the excessive glaze that he had caused. “Fuck,” he laments, tongue poking out to graze your clit experimentally. Satisfied with the way your hand flies to cover your mouth, he places a teasing kiss there. “You know,” he murmurs against your slick nerve,” More than once I’ve wondered how hot and sweet your cunt must be, hiding underneath this skimpy little leotard.”

You let out a shaky breath, eyebrows cinching as you glower down at him, meeting his pleased gaze. “Why don’t you find out for yourself then?” you hiss, baring your teeth at his infuriatingly proud smirk.

“Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Princess?” Bakugou’s tongue glides along the side of your slit, making you stiffen and shut your eyes tightly. Of course he’s a fucking tease.

A knock sounds at your door to pull you out of your collapsing mind, and you sit up straight, eyes wide as Bakugou’s sidekick peeks into the room.

Bakugou stills, unsure as to who it is, staying hidden behind your desk and still holding your hips harshly.

“Hey Y/N, have you seen Ground Zero possibly? He’s stormed off as usual and I can’t find him anywhere,” the sidekick says, blinking at you with unsuspecting eyes.

“Oh, H-Hikaru,” you gulp, hesitantly placing your hands on your desk. Bakugou is quiet underneath you but you’re preparing yourself for the little shit to pull something stupid.

And he does.

Bakugou’s tongue slips between your folds suddenly, licking a large stripe from the bottom to the top of your slit, sucking in your clit and rolling his tongue around it brazenly.

“Oh my god!” you yell, hand slapping over your mouth too late. Hikaru looks at you incredulously, regarding your pink cheeks and sweaty forehead. “I can’t believe him! W-what an asshole!” you pant as Bakugou sucks harder, your pussy clenching onto itself. “He probably left so you’d do the paper… mmm, paperwork for h-him.” You abs are flexed so hard, straining in order to restrain the mess of moans that Bakugou is summoning.

Hikaru finds your tone a bit peculiar, but he continues anyway. “Uh, probably… Are you okay Y/N? You look kind of… sick,” he comments, head tilting to the left. “Did you get that jab checked out yet? I can take you to the infirmary if you want. If it’s bad I can drop you off at your place, too.”

Bakugou doesn’t like that suggestion. He doesn’t need to lick his fingers, your drenched core welcomes the digits instantly. Your walls accommodate his middle and ring finger eagerly and he smirks as they sink into you, knuckle-deep.

“Yes!” you shriek, quickly shooting a glare down at the blonde, your hair covering your face from his sidekick. “I mean— yes, I had it checked out and I’m f-fine, thank you for the concern, Hikaru,” you explain, a forced smile on your lips as you silently beg him to leave.

Bakugou stretches his fingers inside you, scissoring them to coat them in your essence before he puts them together again. His wrist strained in the forced position, he flicks the digits back and forth, almost laughing in glee as he recognizes that soft velvety spot deep within you.

Hikaru blinks at you again before he nods half-heartedly. “Okay… Well if you need me, I’ll be in the conference room doing Bakugou’s job,” he laughs, tucking out of the door and closing it finally.

“He wishes he could do my job, fucker,” Bakugou grunts, mouth immediately returning to satiating your needy hole.

You sag into the chair, a quiet moan floating out of you as Bakugou continues to finger you, his lips slurping up your clit once more. Shooting a heated look at him, you bare your teeth at him, and choke out a hiss,” Fuck you!”

Bakugou only chuckles, savoring the way your cunt throbs around his digits. “I didn’t think you were so impatient, brat.” He doesn’t slow his actions though, knuckles ramming against your skin. He enjoys the way you gasp as he moves your thigh over his shoulder, his tidy fingernails pressing into your trembling leg. “You taste pretty good, Y/N. I guess it’s just your personality that’s bitter,” he remarks, smiling against your sex as his fingers slide out of you.

You toss him a pointed look as he wipes his chin with the back of his hand. “Excuse you, Boom-Boy,” you chide,” only my friends get to call me that!”

“Tch, I get to eat your pussy but I can’t call you by your name? You really know how to make a guy work for it,” he scoffs, sounding mock-hurt, and now menacing over you.

You frown in response but it quickly melts into a smirk. “Don’t worry, Katsuki,” you observe how he closes his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching as his hand turns into a fist,” I’ll return the favor.” You tentatively place your hands on his belt, undoing the clasp and resting the heel of your palm against his clothed, hard cock. You gently undo the fastenings around his thick thighs, placing the belt with his grenades onto your desk cautiously. You weren’t trying to be blown up just for some dick.

He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of both his black pants and underwear, annoyed with you taking your sweet ass time. His bare cock springs free, greeting your hungry gaze with an inviting sheen of sticky precum trailing down his hard length. You gawk at the sight, genuinely surprised to find he was so… well equipped.

“So this is why you’re so cocky, huh?” you state, eyes following the protruding vein running the entirety of his full, flushed member.

He barks out a laugh which dies in his throat as you press a chaste kiss to his weeping pink tip. Your tongue flat against your bottom lip, you slide his cock into your mouth and moan at the salty, provocative taste of him. His length almost as thick as your throat itself, you gag gently as you take him whole into your mouth before quickly pulling back. You place your hand around the base of his now-slick cock, your mouth sucking and bobbing on the top half of him as you jerk your fist at the same tempo.

Bakugou is much louder than you expected him to be, and the way his erotic, serrated breath is tearing from his lungs makes your pussy clench in desire. His chest heaves, the bulging muscles on his torso tense underneath his surprisingly smooth skin. Your other hand wanders up his abs, enjoying the way the ridges between them are so defined. He growls as your finger rubs over his nipple, his hand catching your wrist in a tight grasp but not doing anything to stop the action.

You purr on his cock, slippery hand leaving the base to cup his balls, eliciting a hiss from him as he sucks air in between his gnashing teeth. Confidence torrenting through your veins at his reaction, your jaw drops as wide as you can muster, your mouth gliding further down his length.

Bakugou’s empty hand collects the hair falling around your face, holding it for you as you weave back and forth. His jaw falls slack as the head of his dick rubs the back of your throat, summoning a soft gag that makes your mouth vibrate around him. Your wrist hurts a little from his tight grasp, but the way his fingernails dig into your skin makes your core shiver in delight. “Shit, Y/N.”

You don’t bother to correct him this time, thumb running over his balls just hard enough to make him shake a bit, savoring the way he is panting and quaking before you. The hand grasping your hair nimbly shimmies closer to your skull, his fingers twisting almost too tightly onto the roots of your hair. You allow him to coax your mouth closer, his arm guiding your face to take his length deeply. A low growl tears from the bottom of his lungs as you lock eyes with his impassioned stare. His hips nudge smally against your lips, his tongue poking out to run over his lip as he pulls back and glides back inside your sweltering throat.

You moan forcefully, savoring the the strangled noise that slithers from his now gaping mouth. Taking initiative once more, you begin to jerk your neck back and forth quickly, wincing as his grip tightens on your wrist. Bakugou tries his best to repress his moans but the way your bratty throat welcomes his hard cock makes him see tiny, fizzling explosions when he closes his eyes.

His hips rear back, and you almost fall off the chair as you lean in to close the distance. He catches you easily, hot hands landing on your shoulders as his gaze locks with yours, inexplicable desire sizzling between the two of you. His hands fly down to collect your ass cheeks, and he picks you up just to place the apple of your cheeks on the desk behind him. Teetering on the edge of the wooden furniture, your legs wrap around his waist, and his lips slam onto yours again. His fingers frantically running over your super suit, he snarls in frustration when he can’t find the zipper.

You laugh at him mockingly, catching his eye as you pinch the zipper on the side of your neck, the material shrinking away immediately with elasticity. He watches as your breasts pop out of the silky, neoprene-like fabric, bouncing with hardened, pink nipples standing perkily to greet him.

“No bra?” He reprimands but his time sounds more turned on than accusatory. “Princess, you’re so naughty.” His hands fly to your tits, groping the soft and supple flesh with fervor. You unzip the rest of your side, pulling your arms out of the sleeves and carefully angling your hips so you can slide the suit off into a crumpled pile on the ground. In just your tiny little thong now, Bakugou closes the gap, pressing flush against your clothed center and grinding his wet cock against your damp underwear.

Your head tilts back and you whine, gasping as his mouth slides along your throat, hot tongue caressing the tender skin. “Please, Bakugou,” you wail, his thumbs rubbing your sensitive nipples hastily.

“God, you must be tight if you’re this high-strung,” he purrs next to your ear, enjoying the way your cunt clenches noticeably underneath your panties. Speaking of those… his fingers snatch the delicate lace to the side, his other hand grabbing his dick and running his swollen tip over your slit. He dips the head into your hole but recedes instantly, brushing it over your glistening trove before repeating the action. The teasing has your head spinning, harsh pants falling from you both and mingling in the thin divide between you. He can’t take it any longer, his hips snapping into yours as his dick easily disappears halfway into your steamy, aching cunt. “I fucking knew it,” he grunts, jaw clenching as your velvety walls embrace his girth, your cry of pleasure music to his ears. “Your cunt is so snug around my cock.”

His hips push into your thighs further, only stopping once he’s balls-deep, sunk completely in your flittering sex. Hand leaving your thong to the side of your cunt, he grabs your hip and pulls your ass close. You groan at his cock nestling even deeper into your sopping hole, and your hips jerk against his as his hand curls around your lower back, securing itself so his fingers coil snugly around your waist. You choke on a sob as he thrusts into you again, his thick member prodding you in a very private place.

“You better fuck me already,” you growl at his pace that was testing your nerves, ready to be fucked into submission. Not that you were going to go down without a fight.

He chuckles cockily, a sly grin on his lips. “Your wish is my command.” His hips slam against yours and your teeth sink into his shoulder, muffling a scream of desire. He ruts into you with ease, your arousal making it almost effortless for his cock to spread the tense walls of your desperate pussy. His free hand claps against the swell of your ass, the noise slicing through the air and you scowl at him. It’s like he wants to be caught.

Ragged breaths tumble from the both of you, your saliva trickling down his chest as your teeth are still fastened into his broad shoulder. “F-Fuck, Bakugou,” you keen, each time his pelvis pressing against you tightly forcing your vision to shake.

“Katsuki,” he huffs, his left hand pushing your chin up to capture your half-lidded gaze. “Say it, Princess— fuck, tell me who’s making you feel so good,” he demands, eager to hear his name leave your lips in such an intimate way once more. His hips change tempo from his fast and hard pace to a slower, more sensual rolling motion, milking the desired reaction out of you.

The novel movement pressing deliciously against your clit, your unabashed whimpers fall onto his eager ears. Your fingers raise to pinch the top of his black eye mask, pushing the material up over his forehead so it tucks his ash blonde hair back. Looking into his eyes and admiring his uncovered, handsome features, you shoot him a sinful pout. “Ka— ah! Oh, Katsuki,” you gasp, your hands flying up to claw desperately at his muscular back.

Bakugou relishes in your lewd reply, eyes rolling back into his skull in delight. He lets out a gravely groan, increasing the tempo to a needy, impatient pace. The extra stimulation on your clit makes your legs shiver around him, your heels digging into the plush top of his ass. His hand slides back to grip around the back of your neck, leaning in to take the side of your ear between his teeth. His fingers on your throat press into your skin, his thumb pushed into your racing pulse. Hand squeezing just the right amount, it becomes pleasurably harder to breathe and you pant, tongue poking out as you wanton gaze meets his. “I’m gonna make you cum so hard Y/N,” he growls, almost snarling at you as your body bounces against his, watching your hair dance and shake around the erotic expression on your face.

“Eat shit,” your nose twitches in annoyance,” You’re gonna burst any minute now.” Your cheeks are dusted in a telling flush, your body feeling heat spread throughout. His hand tightens on your throat and you moan, loving the way your breath tears slightly.

“You’ve been clenched down on me this whole time,” he reasons, lips close enough so you can feel his ragged breath. “You can’t deny how your body reacts to me, even if you don’t want it to.”

You roll your eyes. Even buried between your legs at a time like this, he insists on pushing your buttons. “Oh, you want me to clench, Katsuki?” you inquire, tone confident in contrast to the wanton shake of your body.

He shivers as his name leaves your sinful lips, and the breath in his lungs is sucked out of him as you clamp your pussy as tight as you can around him. His hips stutter and you revel in the lustful way his face contorts, his eyes screwing shut temporarily.

When his vermillion eyes open again, his predatory gaze adding wood to the fire between your legs. “Bad girl,” he admonishes, an unruly grin lifting the corners of his mouth. His hips slam against yours, railing into you at an unimaginable speed and harshness. “That’s a cute try, Princess, but you’re gonna cum before me no matter what.”

You can’t even respond as he thrusts into you, your pants ripping through the air and mingling with the quick slapping noise echoing through the room. You hate to let him win but you can’t hold yourself off from your impending orgasm, the pressure in your core multiplying at an alarming rate as each thrust deliciously stimulates your deepest, most secret place.

“Katsuki,” you whimper, your spine arching into his touch while his hand keeps its hold on your throat. “I’m so close, please,” you beg, your toes curling forcefully as your eyes roll back.

Bakugou smiles at your submissive tone, purring out, “That’s better.” His hand leaving your throat to rub his finger on your clit, your body trembles in his hands. He leans into you and his lips conquer yours passionately, tongue darting in between your lips to caress with yours. His tongue pulls back as he takes your bottom lip between his teeth, his wolfish stare daring you to follow his ensuing command. “Cum for me, Y/N.”

Your body tenses as you reach your climax, but Bakugou continues to assault your g-spot mercilessly. Your arms shake in euphoria, nails pressing in to form desperate scratches on his skin. It feels like he is snapping you in two, and you absolutely love it. Tears prick the corner of your eyes as you wail out, relief washing over your limbs feeling like ice cold lemonade on a torrid summer day.

Pussy fluttering around his cock so deliciously, Bakugou moans at the new intensity. He swears as he keeps going, despite his own orgasm approaching. The image of you squirming in ecstasy underneath him makes him gasp immodestly. His hands clasp down on your hips roughly, making it even easier for him to pound into your soaked cunt as his teeth release your reddened lip. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight,” he huffs, sweat glistening on his built chest as he thrusts into you particularly hard. “So much better than I could’ve ever imagined, holy shit, Princess.” He moans a little loudly, not holding anything back anymore. He is so fucking close.

“Katsuki, please,” you sob, your g-spot still being pummeled relentlessly, never getting a break from his assault and dragging your orgasm out longer than you thought possible. “I want your cum on me so bad!”

Bakugou throws his chin into the air, harsh breaths floating out as the flesh of your hips turns white under his oppressive grip. He grunts as he pulls out, his searing streaks of cum spurting out forcefully, shooting up to lace over your tits and down your stomach. His thighs tremble as he snarls, his first immediately jerking his cock as more of his cum gushes out of the tip. He gasps for breath, and he groans as your lips press to his captivatingly. He leans into your kiss, savoring the feeling of your sweet lips against his.

You shift in his hands, the once-rough palms now sliding over your skin carefully, fondling your body as his lips nibble at your own. You entertain it for a moment, nails trailing down his chest, thumbs rubbing into the ample muscles beneath his skin.

He pulls back, a lazy grin and satisfied eyes regarding you. “Well, that was hot,” he admits, eyebrow quirking upwards as he tries to even his choppy breath. You pull a handful of tissues out of the box on the corner of your desk, handing him a few which he gladly wipes over his drenched member. You sigh in content, head leaning back as you regulate your own breathing.

Bakugou makes you jump in surprise as he runs a new tissue along your torso, cleaning up his mess. You eye him playfully, secretly relishing in the way he is so considerate. He shuffles back a step like he can feel you appreciating his uncharacteristically caring actions, tugging up his underwear and tucking himself in with a smug grin on his lips.

“It was pretty good,” you say casually, sliding off the desk and pausing as your still-tingling core shifts, making you realize how tender you already are.

Bakugou rolls his eyes, handing you your costume from the floor. You snatch it out of his grasp condescendingly, glaring at him as you step into the leotard with quivering legs. “Pretty good?” he barks, eyeing your slow movements. “You’re still shaking, Princess.”

You shoot a glare at him, arms slipping into your costume and tucking your breasts away from his lingering eyes. “Fuck you.”

“You just did.” He replies smugly, and you ponder relieving the sudden urge you have to slap the look off his face.

“Whatever, Boom-Boy,” you quip, zipping up the side of your suit.

Bakugou chortles as he pulls on his shirt, fastening the loops around his thighs. “By the way,” he looks sideways at you with a smirk. “You came first, so I won.”

“You were, like, ten seconds behind me,” you scoff.

“After you, nonetheless,” he almost chirps, savoring in the irritation visibly building in you. He slips on his gloves, sliding his arms into his grenade-looking arm pieces. “Do I get a prize, Princess?”

You glance at his suggestive crimson eyes, pondering the idea of it. “You can choose the place next time,” you wink at him, clipping the belt on your waist with finality.

He seems pleased with the answer, his smirk widening as he steps closer to you. Your fingers pinch the bottom of his mask, dragging the material down to its correct location over his eyes. He shamelessly allows his gaze to rove over your body, recalling how tight and needy you’d been just minutes ago.

“Next time, I’m gonna make you beg,” he warns, opening the door and slipping through, seductive gaze locking with yours. “Can’t wait ‘til then, Y/H/N.”

And after that, working together became a whole lot easier.

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

make sure to shoot me a comment/ask/reblog if you enjoyed ♥︎ I’d love to receive any feedback!!!

thank you so much for reading!! Happy Valentine’s Day sweethearts :)

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

#whewwwww #somebody call the fire departmentttt lawd #lmao not to toot my own horn but this was hot #i finished this ln when i was lit af and was so pleased to find this morning when editing minimal errors and i managed to stay on track woo #ok ok ill get over myself now #bakugou fic #bnha fic #mha fic #ground zero fic #bakugou katsuki fic #bakugou smut #bnha smut #mha smut #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugo smut #my fics #my fics katsuki

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miyanom · 3 years

Text

GAME NIGHT CONFESSIONS

MASTERLIST | LANCE MCCLAIN X F!READER

WARNINGS: jokes about sex, slight swearing

NOTES: This idea came to me at like 3am in the morning after I finished playing Monopoly lmao,, so it kinda sucks

Game nights were a weekly occurrence in Lance and Y/N’s apartment ever since the two had moved in together over two years ago.

It had been Allura’s idea, both the game nights and the move in. Y/N was looking for a new place after her roommate not so nicely kicked her out to make room for her new boyfriend, and Lance was looking for someone to help with rent.

Y/N was quickly accepted into the friend group after moving in, and the rest was pretty much history.

“You can’t buy it!” Pidge shouted, pointing at Hunk who was staring dumbfoundedly at the Monopoly money in his hand. “I rolled already!”

“Goddamnit, Pidge!” Hunk complained, carefully placing his money back into the correct piles.

Y/N raised her glass to her lips, watching carefully as Pidge moved her piece. “Dude, buy it before Lance!” She quickly spoke as Pidge landed on Mayfair.

“I am! Take my money!” Pidge handed the money off to Allura, who had been playing banker.

“Y/N, what the fuck,” Lance whined, glancing at the girl who sat beside him. “I was so close to having a colour set.”

Y/N laughed, pushing Lance’s shoulder softly with her spare hand. “That’s what you get for stealing Bond Street.”

“I didn’t steal Bond Street, it was free for the taking,” Lance defended himself, rubbing his bicep as he pretended to be hurt.

“Break it up, lovebirds,” Allura said in a sing-song tone, a smirk tugging at her lips as she stared at them. “It’s Lance’s turn.”

As Lance shook this dice in his hands, his eyes flickered back to Y/N. “Watch out, I’m coming for your last orange too.”

Y/N gasped jokingly. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.” Lance released the dice, and they all watched as they landed in the middle of the board, scoring him a three.

Another other time, Y/N would laugh at the small number, but she just watched in horror as Lance bought the last orange space she needed.

“I think Y/N’s brain just broke,” Pidge started cackling.

Hunk reached over to pat Y/N’s back comfortingly. “Don’t worry, maybe you can trade.”

Y/N let out a cry, falling back onto the carpet and staring up at the roof. “The betrayal,” she cried out, placing a hand against her chest. “It hurts!”

Allura laughed at her friend’s antics, until her phone beeped and she quickly stood up. “Let’s take a break, I need to answer this.”

Y/N lifted herself up, leaning back on her elbows as she glanced at her friend. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Allura smiled reassuringly. “Romelle’s calling.”

“Oh, her girlfriend is more important than our high stakes game. This is life or death, Allura,” Lance teased, only earning a kick to his thigh from Pidge.

“Dude, like you wouldn’t drop everything for your girlfriend- oh wait, you can’t get one because you’re head over heels for-” Pidge was cut off by Hunk’s hand covering her mouth.

Lance’s eyes began quickly flickering between Pidge and Y/N, who was now moving toward the kitchen. “Pidge, what the hell?!” He hissed, leaning closer to her. “What if she heard you?”

“If only,” Pidge rolled her eyes. “Maybe we wouldn’t have to listen to your stupid pining anymore.”

“Wh- what?! I don’t talk about her that much!” Lance’s eyes widened. “Hunk, help me out here!”

“Pidge is right,” Hunk sighed. “You know… maybe now’s your chance. While she’s alone.”

Lance’s gaze followed Hunk’s hand as the boy pointed toward the apartment’s balcony. Sure enough, Y/N was closing the door behind her as she stepped out, probably needing fresh air after being inside all day.

Lance huffed. “No way! Absolutely not! She’s gonna reject me.”

“And how the hell would you know that?”

Lance gulped as he slowly looked behind him. Allura stood there with her arms crossed, clearly she finished her phone call and heard their conversation.

“You never know what’ll happen unless you take a risk, Lance,” she told him. “I think the risk will be worth it in this case.”

Lance looked back to Hunk, who was giving him a thumbs up. With a loud groan, Lance pushed himself to his feet. “Fine… fine! I’m going. When she rejects me, I’m swapping apartments with you, Pidge.”

“What? Why me?!”

Pidge’s words fell on deaf ears as Lance headed outside.

“Hey,” Y/N smiled softly, looking at Lance from where she stood leaning against the railing. “Come to keep me company after stealing my dreams, huh?”

“Hey, it was payback for telling Pidge to take Mayfair!” Lance laughed, carefully moving to stand beside her.

Without a word, Y/N passed her bottle over to Lance. He glanced down at it for a moment, before taking a large gulp. God knows he’d need more alcohol in his system if he was getting rejected tonight.

“Jeez, drink all of it why don’t you?” Y/N quickly took the glass bottle from him again. “Seriously, what’s got you so wound up?”

Lance whispered under his breath, causing Y/N’s brows to furrow up in confusion. “Dude, speak up, I can’t-”

“I like you!” Lance spoke loudly. “A lot, Y/N. And for awhile now, too.”

The two went silent, and Lance’s hung head low for a moment. “It’s okay, I know you don’t feel the same way. Oddly enough, I think that’s okay. You’re my best friend, I don’t want anything to-”

As Lance turned to face her, he was greeted by her lips against his in a soft kiss. His shoulders instantly relaxed as one of Y/N’s hands came up to caress his cheek, staying there even as she slowly pulled away.

Despite no longer feeling her lips against his, he still couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes, afraid it was all just a dream and that he was being delusional.

“I like you, too,” Y/N whispered softly, causing Lance’s eyes to finally open.

She stood there right in front of him, her cheeks tinted pink, though it would be barely visible beneath the flickering street light if he wasn’t this close to her.

Lance let out a sigh of relief, leaning in to quickly kiss her one more time.

Just as Y/N shuffled closer - about to deepen the kiss - someone began knocking on the glass door behind them.

The two quickly separated, turning to see who it was.

Their friends stood there with grins, watching as Lance and Y/N moved away from each other in embarrassment.

Opening the door slightly, Allura leaned out with a grin on her face. “It’s about time, you guys!” She cheered, raising her glass to them.

“Yeah, but get back inside already!” Pidge called out from further back in the apartment. “Don’t have sex on the fire escape, guys! You’ll get kicked out.”

Lance’s face grew hotter, and Y/N raced back to the door, yelling out to Pidge as she tried clearing up the situation.

Y/N stopped just before she stepped inside, turning to look back at Lance. “Let’s talk about this more when they leave, okay?”

Lance smiled softly as he nodded. “Okay.”

TAGLIST (JOIN HERE)

@filipinhce @booyakasha516 @iifloweringnightsii @20coldhearts @kaylove12 @chewymoustachio @pocky-otp @chasingcqrs @fandomtrashbitch @rory-cakes @sokkas-honour @alteasmoon

#lance mcclain oneshots #lance mcclain #lance mcclain x reader #voltron fanfic #voltron: legendary defender #voltron oneshot #voltron x reader

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stxrrywildflower · 4 years

Text

can’t help falling in love (four)

pairing - george weasley x reader

summary - you invite george to be your date to your sisters wedding

warnings - mentions of family/home issues

word count - 2.1k

series masterlist

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

waking up in george’s arms was something you were sure wasn’t going to feel natural.

but here you were, wrapped up in his embrace after waking up from easily one of your best nights sleep. it felt normal almost, like you had been going through that routine for awhile.

george’s stomach was pressed firmly against your back, head burried deep into the crook of your neck as soft snores escaped his lips.

his arms were wrapped around your middle, providing the much needed warmth you craved after the previous night.

the rememberance of yesterday’s events hit you hard; every word said at dinner, george taking you around london and your talk on the bridge, all the way to george's sudden casual nature when it came to sharing a bed came rushing back.

as comfy as it was, you needed to get up. the room you were in harvested far too many suffocating feelings for you to be in there for much longer.

but that brought up one problem; george. he was still, to your knowledge, passed out. you didn’t want to wake him by any means.

you slowly untangled your arm from his, making your best attempt to remove yourself with minimal fuss.

“no no no, not yet,” george suddenly mumbled, his arm snaking around your waist to pull you back down against his chest once more.

“george, we have to get up,” you spoke softly.

he shook his head at that, nose tickling the back of your neck. “for what? nothings happening until four.”

you paused for a moment, moving to run your hand across george’s.

“hmm i was hoping we could go get breakfast somewhere,” you suggested. “there’s this really good restaurant i went to as a kid but i guess if you want to stay in bed i can go on my own.”

george’s hands moved to hold your hips, turning you over in one swift motion to make you now rest face to face.

“hi,” he greeted.

you hummed, a gentle smile adorning your face. “hi,” you answered.

“how are you feeling after last night?”

your eyes instinctively drifted away from his. it was difficult to meet his gaze with such a difficult topic. george knew right away, moving to reach down to interlock your hands as a silent reassurance.

“promise you won’t laugh or judge me?”

“promise.”

your eyes averted from his once more. “it sounds weird but i think spending the night with someone was really good for me.”

george grinned. “i think it was good for me as well. who knew all we needed was a cuddle buddy.”

“well weasley,” you pressed your pointer finger to his chest. “if you wanted to get in my bed you could’ve just asked.”

george’s face turned a soft shade of pink, clearly blushing at your word choice. “y-y/n you know it’s not like that. i just meant that it’s nice to be with someone when i’m sleeping.”

“no no, i know. just messing around. don’t worry georgie,” you smiled, reaching out to place your hand on his cheek.

george’s hand reached to rest on top of yours, thumb stroking the back of your hand gently.

“so breakfast?”

“breakfast,” you confirmed.

the two of you got ready in a comfortable silence, getting out of bed a few moments after the end of your conversation. george was already complaining about his back, stretching back and forth in an effort to crack it.

you slipped on one of your jumpers, custom made for the quidditch team, over a pair of leggings. the red wool brought instant warmth.

“hey love? i think that’s mine,” george pointed towards the jumper.

you looked down, pulling out the front slightly to stare down at it. sure enough, there was a ‘g. weasley’ stitched right under the gryffindor crest.

“oh, must’ve mixed them up,” you mumbled, already moving to pull it off to replace it with your own.

george grabbed your wrist, thus preventing you from taking it off. “keep it on. it looks better on you anyway,” he spoke. you nodded, hiding your face at the casual compliment.

even in april, london was still pretty cold. it was barely above twelve celsius or fifty degrees. it was still too warm for snow, though rain was still the primary weather. today, however, it was extremely cloudy.

the house was entirely empty as you and george headed downstairs. you knew your sister was with her wedding party and your parents were probably out doing something for the wedding that afternoon. it was no issue, you were actually thankful to not have to interact with any of them.

“are we walking or taking the train?” george questioned before you left.

“it’s only a twenty minute walk. i’m not sure if the underground is worth taking but it’s ultimately up to you,” you answered.

“eh we can walk. i could use the fresh air.”

you hummed, grabbing your bag before turning to george. “ready to go?”

“absolutely. i’m starving.”

you and george walked with a comfortable conversation starting almost immediately. you pointed out little things from your childhood such as the local park you spent a lot of time at as a kid while george asked multitudes of questions.

as you were answering one of his questions about the neighborhood you passed, george’s hand slowly inched towards yours. your fingertips brushed more times than none before you finally made the interactive to just interlock your hands.

while the gesture was fairly new, it was far from awkward. george’s hand fit perfectly in your own, him even moving to sway it back and forth slightly.

“this is it,” you pointed out the little corner restaurant. “i’m not sure if the owners will remember me, i mean it’s been years but i still remember the food being really good. you’ll enjoy it, trust me.”

“no way, is that little y/n?” you heard as you pushed the door open.

“meridith!” you beamed, greeting her with a small wave.

“it’s so good to see you,” the owner started. “what’s the occasion? ever since you went off to school we haven’t seen you around much.”

“just back home for the weekend,” you answered. “brought my friend george with me. anyway we could get my usual special?”

meridith nodded, already ushering your over to one of the corner booths. you got your drinks, coffee for you and tea for george of course, before you delved back into your conversation.

“so you came here as a kid?”

“yeah. it used to be cress’ and i’s favorite. no disrespect to your mum but nothing beats the breakfast here. i just haven’t been home to have it since i’m always with you,” you commented.

george shrugged sheepishly at that. “hey, once you have your own hand on the weasley family clock, you’re committed.”

you smiled to yourself. molly had added you on a few years back once it became a normalcy for you to be at the burrow.

breakfast was mixed in with small talk, mostly about anything from school to, like last night, summer break. your finals were coming up as well and that always brought a new wave of stress. plus, the twins almost always came to you for help in at least one of their subjects.

you headed home after paying. george tried to but then again, he didn’t have any typical muggle currency.

there was still hours to go before the wedding at to be honest, you were dreading it. between everything that happened in the past twenty-four hours alone along with the strong possibility your relatives would question you and george on your ‘relationship,’ you just weren’t looking forward to it.

once home, george brought up the promise you had made the previous day about showing him something on the tv. you agreed, selecting one of the more simple movies in an effort to reduce the amount of questions george would ask.

his face instantly lit up as the tv did, going as far as leaning forward on his elbows to get a closer look. you smiled at his interest, throwing a blanket towards him before making your way over to the couch.

you spread the blanket over the two of you, pulling george to rest against the back of the couch. you leaned into his side, his arm already moving to wrap around you.

when the movie had finally finished, you actually had to go get ready. george frowned slightly, though he did perk up once more when you told him you could watch another later before you left.

due to your sister making her wedding a black tie/formal event, guests would actually have to dress up suits and long dresses.

you had a dress already picked out, it being your one formal floor length dress you owned incase of an event like this or something back at school.

george, on the other hand, was borrowing a suit from your dad. they were around the same height and it would fit well enough for the afternoon and night ahead.

“your suit is in the closet. i’m going to go get changed in the bathroom and fix my hair. meet me downstairs when you’re done?”

george nodded. “sounds good. i’ll see you in a bit,” he spoke, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss to your cheek.

with a flushed face, you grabbed your dress off of the hook before exiting the room. it took george a considerably less amount of time to get ready versus you; after tying his tie and running his hand through his hair, he was practically ready to go.

you had a bit more to worry about. you took time in styling your hair the way you preferred before adding your desired amount of makeup. once that was finished, you could actually change.

your dress was easily your favorite part. it was the color that looked best on you, having a deep v-neck into a skirt that flowed out. it was formal enough but by no means over the top.

after one final check in the mirror, you smoothed down your dress and you were ready to go.

“you’re not bringing fever fudge, are you?”

george’s head snapped up at the sound of your voice, product dropping on the table as his mouth opened slightly. he met you at the bottom of the stairs just as you stepped down.

“w-wow y/n, you look absolutely stunning,” george complimented.

you reached out to fix his only slightly crooked tie. “that’s all you georgie,” you replied, hands dropping to rest on his chest.

it didn’t take long for you to arrive at the venue, being a more local building your sister had chosen to get married in.

you greeted a few family members, mainly aunts, uncles, and cousins before you pulled george to your seats, partially rushing to avoid any unwanted questions. your seats were towards the back, though you still had a good view of the alter.

after everyone else slowly took their seats, the traditional muggle wedding procession music started to play.

the different bridesmaids and groomsmen started down the aisle. a deep pit filled your stomach once seeing them; as a little kid you always assumed you would be in your sisters wedding. there was a point where you even thought you could be the maid-of-honor.

george finally noticed your uneasiness during the vows. he leaned over, whispering a quiet, “are you okay?”

you nodded, reaching out for his hand before you could even realize. “it’s just weird.”

“weird?”

“i don’t know. i guess just seeing people talk about their future and love for each other is just kinda a foreign thing.”

george squeezed your hand gently. “that’s going to be you one day, you know.”

“really?”

“i’m sure of it.”

you shot him a small smile before turning your attention back to the ceremony just in time to see the exchanging of rings.

it only took a few minutes after that for your sister and her new husband to begin their procession out. like everyone else, you stood up and clapped to show your congratulations.

“well we have a few hours until the reception. want to go walk around town for a little bit?” you asked.

“uh yeah, of course,” he agreed.

george guided you out by the small of your back, manuevering your way through the crowd and out the main doors.

“you know i meant what i said earlier,” george spoke once you were away from the venue.

you shrugged your coat on, pulling it a little closer to you. “you really did?”

george nodded. “yeah i did. i know your connection to love is a bit complicated but you can trust me on what i told you.”

a smile passed over your face. you found yourself focusing more on the concrete of the sidewalk over your friend beside you. but you had to admit, his words did do some good.

“now come on,” george pulled you forward. “let’s go have some fun.”

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢

tagging - @goldenxreid @wilburxpancakes @sunlightgalaxy @criminaly-supernatural @blakes-dictionxry @mrs-dr-reid @weasleytwinsfav @theguppienamedbae @fadesbrina

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fluff #the weasley twins #weasley twins #gryffindor #fred and george #fred and george weasley

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ofmermaidsandmarauders · 3 years

Text

seeking a chaser

Hope you enjoy this quick drabble I put together. It’s unbeta’ed/unedited so go easy on me!

xoxo, Tay

read on AO3

It had started as mumblings under his breath, as his fists would clench and his body would jolt from side to side as he tried to dodge imaginary bludgers. Lily had been able to mostly ignore all of that energy, but once James started yelling, she knew she needed to intervene.

“C’mon Hooch! Can’t you see they’re playing dirty?!” James cupped his mouth to ensure that his voice would echo down from the high stands. Lily felt her cheeks turning pink as he looked around at the other parents in the stand, all of whom had been keeping their comments to themselves.

James looked across the stands and saw their daughter Felicity giggling from behind her hand, sitting beside her best friend Alicia in the Hufflepuff stands, though the red and gold scarf wrapped around her neck was proudly on display in support of her older brother. Always her family’s biggest supporter, that one.

“James,” Lily hissed beneath her breath, squeezing his thigh tightly in her grip. “You need to get yourself together.”

“Well, maybe if the little bastards on the other team weren’t throwing shit bludgers around, we wouldn’t be having this problem and I could just enjoy the match like any other parent here!”

When Hogwarts announced that they’d be opening two matches a year to parents (Gryffindor vs. Slytherin and Hufflepuff vs. Ravenclaw), Lily and James had been ecstatic at the thought of getting to see Harry in action. Sure, they had seen him in pickup games in their backyard or practicing various tricks with Ginny after they’d return from getting ice cream, but this was a different environment.

They had always heard stories of his abilities on the pitch, the way he could search out the snitch quicker than any other seeker in history.

James had always been disappointed that his son hadn’t been a chaser, but he was proud of him nonetheless.

“What was that!” James jumped up and screamed, hands over his head as he watched another bludger be aimed at faces, the broom darting to the side just enough to avoid the messy hit.

“James.” Lily’s voice sounded angry, and he instantly sat down, pouting like a petulant child.

“Sorry,” he muttered, shoving his hands beneath his arse so that he wasn’t tempted to throw them up in the air. He was biting down roughly on his lower lip to keep his comments to himself. He maintained it for awhile, silently cheering as Ginny and Katie scored a few goals each, though Slytherin almost matched them with their own goals.

“C’mon Harry,” Lily muttered under her breath, just loud enough for James to catch it. The encouragement made him smirk, though he kept his comments to himself and instead pressed a quick kiss to her temple.

“WHAT!” James yelled while jumping up again, just as his eyes caught Goyle throwing another reckless bludger. “Where is the foul on that one!”

“James, that one wasn’t even near Harry!” Lily exclaimed, tugging him back down to sit beside her, this time wrapping her arm through his so that he wouldn’t be able to jump back up.

“Harry?! Who cares about him, he’s just the seeker! That one almost knocked Ginny out!” James looked indignantly at Lily, rolling his eyes.

Lily’s left eyebrow arched as she stared at him, trying to read his expression.

“You’re not seriously telling me that you don’t care about our son playing right now?”

“I mean yeah he’s good, but look at her! She’s a natural chaser! Born to play! They’re trying to take her out of the game and nobody will call a BLOODY FOUL!”

Lily just laughed, locking eyes with Felicity across the way, smiling as she just settled her head on James’ shoulder, waving at their daughter. Felicity rolled her eyes but smiled at her parents, knowing that her mum would likely be jostled from her position in moments when he declared another injustice against Ginny Weasley, James’ favorite player.

#jily #jily fic #drabble #my writing #hp fic #jily lived au

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firesoulstuff · 3 years

Text

The Blind Date From Cell Block D

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33159133

Cisco is - understandably - a little wary when his ex-girlfriend sets him up on a blind date with her cellmate's sister. A part of him thinks the only reason they're set up is because they both have kids, not that they'd actually be good for each other.

Well, he's been wrong before.

Cisco can’t believe it’s come to this.

He stands in front of Jitters coffee and looks at the door ahead of him, a final debate in his mind as to if he’s really going inside or not. It isn’t that he doesn’t trust Lisa, but her friends aren’t typically people he wants to get involved with. Of course supposedly this girl isn’t really one of her friends, but maybe a friend’s sister is close enough.

Oh well, he made it this far.

He enters the coffee shop and looks around. He doesn’t know what this girl looks like, but it isn’t all that crowded and he doesn’t see anyone looking around lost. He debates ordering coffee but he doesn’t know what she likes, and it feels rude ordering one for just himself, so he goes and claims a seat at a table with a nice view of the door.

He checks his phone while he waits, debating texting Barry to check up on Carmen or working on a crossword, when he hears the door open and he looks up.

This is probably her.

She isn’t what he was expecting, though Lisa had mentioned she was a “goody-goody.” She’s dressed nicer than he is, in a red flower-printed dress with matching lipstick. Her hair is this gorgeous light brown color that frames her face in loose curls. He starts to think maybe he’s wrong, that this woman is here to meet some other lucky guy and he’s still waiting, but then she notices him watching her and there must be something awestruck about his expression because she comes over to his table, and he awkwardly he pushes himself off the chair and stands.

“Hi…” She trails, “Cisco?”

“Um, yeah, hi.” He stammers, and offers her his hand, because apparently that is what he does on a first date now.

Still, she laughs and accepts the handshake.

“Caitlin, right?” He asks.

“Right.” She says with a blush, and he’s pretty sure he’s blushing himself.

“Cool, um, why don’t I go get us some drinks?”

What follows next is the obligatory awkwardness of a first date of her half-heartedly trying to give him money for her latte and his insisting that he’s paying for it. Once they have that out of the way and he’s returned to the table with her latte and his decaf Flash - he definitely doesn’t need the caffeine right now – he feels like he can breathe just a little bit easier.

“Thank you.” Caitlin says as he places her latte down in front of her and takes his seat.

“You’re welcome.” He says, “So, um, were you as nervous about the set-up from cell block D as I was?”

She snorts into her drink, and he can’t help thinking that it’s adorable.

“It’s always a bad idea when my sister wants to set me up.” She says, “When she said she wanted to set me up with her cellmate’s ex, no offence but I almost stood you up.”

“Understandable.” He admits, readily. Because really, he wouldn’t have blamed her. “What changed your mind?”

She chuckles, and he smirks when she suddenly avoids his eyes and starts stirring her straw around her drink.

“I um… I told myself I would come, it would be horrible, and then I could hold this over her every other time she tries to set me up down the road.”

He laugh, he tries not to but it gets through.

“So you’re using me.” He snarks, taking a sip of his drink. “I’m the bad date who is supposed to get you out of future, worse dates.”

“Sorry.” She winces, and he keeps laughing.

“Don’t be. I respect it, kind of wish I’d thought of it to be honest with you.”

Now she’s grinning along with him, and it’s nice. They sip their drinks, get over their laughter, though he’s still beaming with amusement when he speaks again.

“So, is this that bad yet?”

“Hmm… Not yet.” She hums, “But I can always embellish the details. What about you? Why’d you come?”

He shrugs, picking at his nails a bit. “Desperation, maybe? Been awhile since I had a date, and Lisa knows what I go for.”

He winces as the words leave his mouth; he definitely shouldn’t have worded that like that.

She’s raising an eyebrow at that, more than enough confirmation that he’s right, but at least she isn’t running away yet.

“What I mean is, um, Lisa and I had the conversation a while ago. We’re not right for each other, but we’re on good terms and we want to see each other happy. Plus, with Carmen, neither of us wants the other to waste time on something that isn’t going to last. So I trust anyone she’s going to set me up with will be someone she actually thinks I’ll like.”

Caitlin nods, but he’s still kicking himself. He learned a long time ago it’s never good to bring up an ex on the first date. Bringing up the kid? Absolutely, that’s something he knows he has to be upfront about. But he’s found ways to discuss Carmen while leaving her mother out of it until a later date, assuming it goes that far. But in this scenario that’s kind of difficult, considering it’s his ex who set this up.

“That’s good that you guys still get along.” She says, “I’m sure that makes parenting easier.”

“Yeah.” He agrees, whole-heartedly. There was a rough patch two years ago when Lisa first got arrested, he didn’t want much to do with her, he was so pissed. Then when he finally went to see her all they did was fight. It was horrible, and he could see the effect it was having on Carmen. He’s glad they’re past that.

“What about you?” He asks, “Lisa mentioned you have a son. You and the dad get along?”

She looks away again, her face falls, and instantly he knows he’s made a mistake.

“James’ dad is dead, actually.”

“Shit.” He whispers, “I’m-”

“It’s ok.” She promises, meeting his eyes again, with a look that says it is very much not ok but she’s tired of hearing the apologies. “It happened not long after James was born, he’s almost three. What about you? How old is Carmen?”

“She’s seven.”

He doesn’t miss how Caitlin’s expression shifts, her eyes blinking with mild surprise, and he chuckles. This isn’t the first time he’s gotten this kind of reaction after revealing his daughter’s age. He knows she’s doing the math, and debating whether or not she should ask exactly how old he is.

“Yeah, we had her kind of young.”

“I thought I had James young.” She comments, though the wonders if she meant to say that aloud, because when he starts cackling her face turns bright red and her eyes blow wide.

“I’m sorry I didn’t-”

“It’s ok, it’s ok.” He assures her through his laughter. “Really, I’ve gotten far worse reactions.”

She nods, though she doesn’t seem to be taking much solace in it.

“Were you out of high school?” She asks, to which he makes an “eh” motion with his hand.

“It was partway through senior year when we found out Lisa was pregnant, so we’d graduated by the time Carmen was born.”

They keep talking about their kids, swapping stories and occasionally pictures. James is adorable based on the pictures she shows him. He has her eyes, and her hair, but there’s something about his face that he’s sure must be a carbon copy of his father’s. She almost laughs herself to tears when he shows her the picture of Carmen from a pool party last summer at his Abuela’s; all suited up in her life jacket, arm floaties, an inner-tube, and bright pink snorkel.

“Yeah, this winter, I made her go to swimming lessons at the rec center. Kid was convinced she was going to drown. Didn’t care she’d been swimming plenty of other summers and done just fine. Nope.”

“Oh my god.” Caitlin laughs, “Well, if it makes you feel any better, James is terrified of buses right now. Cars? Fine. Trains? His favorite things in the word. But ask him to so much as look at a bus and he cries, all because there’s a kiddie ride at Adventure Land that’s shaped like a bus and he got sick on it last month.”

Cisco barks a laugh; he can picture that all too easily. Carmen went through a similar phase once; though her issue had been with clowns and he was more than happy to simply avoid those rather than make her face them.

“I should be going.” Caitlin eventually says, fiddling with the end of her straw. “James is with my mom right now and she really needs to pack for a trip tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Cisco agrees with a nod. “I should probably go relieve my friends.”

They get up, and after throwing away their empty cups he walks her to the door.

“This was surprisingly fun.” He says as he opens the door for her.

“It was.” She agrees, and she sounds equally surprised. “Would you want to maybe do it again sometime?”

“Yeah, I would.” He decides, beaming at her. “But it’s gotta be before next Thursday. I’m taking Carmen to visit Lisa and I am not facing her after only one date with anyone, because she will pester me about a second date.”

“Oh absolutely.” Caitlin agrees wholeheartedly. “If Crystal finds out a first date went well but doesn’t have any second date details, she might actually explode.”

He snorts, but if Caitlin’s sister is anything like Lisa, he can picture exactly that.

“So… Friday?” He asks, coming to a stop.

She stops along with him, a smile on her face.

“Friday.” She agrees, before leaning over and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

He isn’t ashamed to admit he’s a little awestruck as he watches her leave down the busy street and disappear around a corner. He’s definitely grinning like the cat who caught the canary.

Maybe the girls in cell block D know what they’re doing after all.

#killervibe month #killervibe month 2021 #cisco ramone #caitlin snow

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danganronpa-21 · 4 years

Text

Naegiri Week Day 1 - Sweet

Happy first day of Naegiri Week! Today I bring you the most tooth-rotting fluff I have ever written. Like it is excessively sweet. Still, I even managed to make myself get all giggly and excitable during the editing phase, so I really hope you like it. I have no content warnings to issue this time around. Just pure, sweet Naegiri. I hope you enjoy it!

________________________________________________________________

“No way.”

Kyoko’s lips curled into a smile as she stared at her wide-eyed fiancé, a curt nod punctuating the statement that had caused him the utmost disbelief. Though there were plenty of things that might shock him about her, she never expected for this to be one of them.

“Yes way.”

“No way!” Within a matter of seconds, he’d taken hold of her wrists, shaking them with all of the enthusiasm of a small child. There was a frantic look in his eye as he shook her, clearly too absorbed in his shock to even think about how funny this would look from her end of things. God, her Makoto was a special one. Not that was a bad thing, of course. His little eccentricities were part of the reason why she liked him so much. “No way, no way!”

It was hard to fight off a laugh as she watched his expression; he looked all too serious for the topic of conversation. He always had been a man of rather interesting passions. She had been a witness to many a debate between him and Yasuhiro about seemingly silly things, most of which she did not understand. How he found the energy to argue about flavours of soda pops, which Robocop movie was objectively the best one, and which sitcom had the weirdest actors was beyond her. Still, she found that this one was a bit… much, even for him. On the list of things that she anticipated he might get overly excited about, a topic as childish as candy was not one of them. It was a bit of a strange position to be in, watching the man she loved have a total conniption over her grandfather’s refusal to accommodate her sweet tooth.

“Yes, really,” she did her best to not sound short with him, but she really didn’t see what the big deal was, “I missed out on a lot when I was a girl. I never had a chocoball, or a crunky bar, or caplico… There were even some traditional desserts that I missed out on, too.”

If it were possible for his eyes to open any wider, they would have. He practically gasped at her statement, so horrified that her younger self had been denied the sweets he deemed so precious. “What desserts haven’t you had? I swear, if you’ve never tasted manju, I think I might cry.”

Kyoko chuckled softly, rolling her eyes at him. Had he really forgotten? “No, I’ve had manju before. You made it for me for our first date, remember?”

Makoto exhaled with quiet relief instantly, nodding his head with a nonchalance he hadn’t possessed thirty seconds prior. You’d have thought she had just told him he had not tested positive for a fatal disease or something, with the way his shoulders relaxed. “Right, I did do that,” he paused for a second, “And you liked it, didn’t you?”

She could have laughed at how intense his eyes got over the question. She’d seen troublesome students at Hope’s Peak receive glares less intense than this one. “Yes, it was lovely,” she assured him, brushing some hair away from her face, “The variation of desserts I have yet to taste are more treats like dorayaki, taiyaki, yokan, dango, or coffee jelly.”

To this, Makoto actually cringed. Full-on eyes squeezed shut, teeth clenched, drawing the head back slightly cringed. You’d have thought the man were genuinely pained. “I can’t believe I’m marrying a woman who’s never had dango,” the furrowing of his brows seemed to deepen as the news settled within him, “And coffee jelly! Oh, Kyoko, you would just love coffee jelly!”

“I’ve always thought I would, but I didn’t have much of a chance to try it.”

“Well, that settles it, then.”

“Settles what?” Kyoko blinked, tilting her head to the side.

A new found determination settled in her fiance’s expression; within seconds it seemed his energy had renewed. He practically beamed with elation, a cheery smile stretching across his face. “You and me are going sweet-tasting. Desserts, candies, the whole deal!”

“Wait, Makoto. You don’t have to do this for me,” she fruitlessly attempted to wiggle her wrists out from his grasp, “It’s okay, really-”

“No!” he interrupted her without a second thought, his movements just as dramatic as ever, “I have to. This is a matter of life and death.”

She snickered, finally prying her wrist out from Makoto’s hand with sheer force. “I think that’s a tad dramatic, love,” her now-free hand found her way to her ear, reaching up to tuck some of her lavender hair behind it, “But I suppose… I will indulge you. I don’t imagine you would give me much of a choice otherwise.”

He chuckled. “No, I would not.” His hands rested on his hips as he puffed his chest up proudly, looking a bit like a small child who had just finished tied his shoes for the first time. “Now c’mon and get your coat! We’ve got a shop to visit!”

Kyoko couldn’t help but smile as she and Makoto walked through the crisp winter air, the snowing raining down and settling on top of both of their heads. Fighting off the grin forming on her face as she watched her husband-to-be prancing through the snow was a fruitless endeavour, so she didn’t bother. His fingers were interlaced with her own as he led her down the street, swinging their hands forward together with uncontainable glee. It had been quite awhile since he last saw him ignited with this much energy, and to be honest, she was relishing it. His smile always felt like seeing the sunrise after waiting all night.

“So where is it that you are taking me again?” Though she was not sure whether she should be enthused or slightly fearful, she tried her best to keep up with her fiancé’s delight. It wasn’t particularly hard, getting to see that big smile on his face and hearing the snow crunch cheerfully beneath their winter boots. Admittedly, the promise of many delicious sweets probably had something to do with it, too. After all, her grandfather had been the one to make the choice about whether or not she got them as a child. If a young Kyoko had had things her way, she would have been eating candy and desserts for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Her sweet tooth was unimaginably huge back then, and if she were to tell the truth… it was still pretty big as an adult, too.

She was sure that Makoto’s smile would deepen if it were capable of getting any bigger. “It’s this combination dessert café-candy shop that lets you taste all of the sweets of your dreams. I was thinking we should start with desserts, and then move onto the candies to take home. I hear they have a great selection.”

“I will take your word for it. You are the candy connoisseur.”

Makoto rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly; his face tinged pink. “I’m not sure if I’d go that far…”

Kyoko smirked. “The dessert director.”

“Alright, Kyoko, stop playing around-”

“The chief of confection.”

His lips twitched, telling her just how badly he wanted to smile. Still, he was trying pretty hard to keep that phony scowl going. She could even see that liar biting his cheeks to keep himself from laughing at her jokes! Oh, she would get him for this falsity later. What a cruel, cruel man her lover could be.

“Are you done now?” He asked, his tone betraying the amusement that his expression wanted to hide. She nodded contentedly, happy to know how easily she could get him to grin. With all of his seriousness about the desserts and candy, she figured that she should be able to take her turn to be silly. So, she didn’t think it so wrong that she could joke around with him, and then press a kiss to his cheek.

“Yes,” she affirmed, “I’m done now. Care to continue on with your sweets speech?”

“Hey!” His tongue poked out at her cheekily from between his lips. “You said you were done with the alliteration!”

A gloved fingertip pressed itself against the space just below her lips, batting her eyelashes at him with all of the innocence she could muster. If she truly desired to portray innocence, she would be doing a horrible job of it… but thankfully, this kind of thing would work when playing around with Makoto. “Whatever are you talking about?”

He half-nudged her shoulder before pulling his phone out from his pocket. For a moment, he swiped fruitlessly over the touch screen with his gloved hand. Then, with all of the lacking grace of a middle school boy, he pried the glove from his hand with his teeth. Sometimes, he really could be so boyish. Not that that was necessarily a bad thing, of course. It was actually something that she liked about him. It made him passionate and interesting in the same way that other people just weren’t. She couldn’t count on both hands the number of men she’d met who took themselves far too seriously, denouncing anything childish and writing horrible love stories in their ugly moleskin journals. Try-hards, she remembered thinking about them. Makoto never seemed to feel like that. In a way, she supposed that was why pleasure from his little dessert desperation blossomed so easily.

“Anyway,” she was so lost in thought that she wouldn’t have noticed him pulling up her options if it weren’t for him shoving the phone four inches in front of her face, “They have a big menu of desserts that you can look at online. You should look at their options and see what you want to try!”

A smirk threatened to overtake her, leaving her wondering just how cheeky she could with him before he got fed up. “I was under the impression that I would simply be trying everything I had yet to try, given that you seemed so serious about it when we first set out. I definitely know that coffee jelly is on the list, though. You know how much adore coffee and anything coffee-flavoured.”

Keeping her mind from drifting to a cup of warm coffee was a struggle. In the midst of the frozen air nipping at their noses, a cup of coffee sounded excellent. Just holding it against her gloves, breathing in that rich aroma… Mmmm. Kyoko hoped that they might serve a cup of coffee or two at the shop. You know, to pair with the desserts. Not because of her own fixation on it or anything.

“Well, ideally, you would try everything. I just wanted to know if there was anything you really wanted. If you don’t like it, I can always eat it for you.”

She shook her head. “I’m sensing a bit of an ulterior motive here, my love.”

Blush rose in his cheeks, prompting him to reach up the scratch at them in that awkward habit he never managed to kick. “I mean, that wasn’t my only plan, but… it is one of the perks, heh.”

“So you say.”

“C’mon, don’t give me a hard time!” The luckster whined, pushing out his lip in the fakest pout he’d given her in a while. “You can’t be mean to the guy who’s getting you desserts and candy.”

A smile played at her lips. “Is he paying for all of it out of his own pocket, or is he snagging some of his rich fiancée’s money?” She asked, quirking an eyebrow at him expectantly. She couldn’t help watching intently to see if his blush from before would strengthen. Perhaps doing so was a tad mean, but she liked to tease him. Getting a reaction out of Makoto was always fun, especially with his tendency to get flustered and stumble over his words. If she were to be honest, she found his embarrassment totally adorable.

To her surprise and slight disappointment, he puffed his chest up at her. Prideful little Makoto who would pay out of his own pocket. “He is treating his special lady today, and so she pays for nothing. Although it should be pointed out that he usually pays for dinner anyway.”

“Alright, alright. You got me there,” she chuckled, leaning over to plant another kiss on his cheek, “Now is this dessert shop very far from here? I fear my nose might start to frost over soon.”

He giggled and reached over to place his hand on her nose. “Aww, your poor little nose,” it was hard not to cringe as he rubbed her nose, “Does this help?”

Admittedly, his mitten-clad hand did help her nose become toastier, but having her fiancé rub her nose in public felt a little embarrassing. Like one of those things that others would judge them for. People already tended to stare at them due to their presence in the School Life of Mutual Killing broadcast, so she preferred to avoid attracting extra attention where she could. She briefly considered whether or not she should swat his hand away, but that nose warmth… it was too good to pass up. Her hands reached up to meet his wrist to keep him there, muffling any words she spoke. “Yes, that is good. You still have yet to answer my question, however.”

“It’s just a few more buildings up the street. Something like four,” he tilted his head to the side, “Can you manage that?”

Kyoko mustered up the biggest possible sigh she could manage. “I suppose,” She complained theatrically, batting her eyelashes at him once again. All her partner could do was snort softly and shake his head at her, keeping his hands on her nose as they ventured towards the combination candy-dessert shop.

The rest of their walk seemed rather short in comparison to the first half; the two of them chattering back and forth lazily the whole way there. The pieces of conversation weren’t anything incredibly impressive – Makoto enthused about the snowflakes that settled within Kyoko’s silvery locks, and Kyoko murmured quietly to him about how cute his pink nose looked in the winter’s cold. A more girlish part of Kyoko squealed at how lovingly domestic this all felt. She prayed that after their wedding in the summer, the same happy feelings would persist. The mere thought of getting to go on adventures like this as a married couple made her heart light itself with new flame. Maybe, if today went well, they could even see about having a sweets bar at their reception. Wouldn’t that just be so nice, she said when she told Makoto. Her soon-to-be-husband had lit up at her suggestion, saying that he’d let her pick out all of her favourites to be displayed on the table. Next thing she knew, they were babbling excitedly about their future desserts table, barely even seeming to notice that they had come upon the dessert shop.

“Here it is!” Makoto announced, throwing his arms open wide, “Chieko Chisu’s Confection Cabin!”

That’s a lot of c’s was Kyoko’s first thought. Following that: this is exactly the kind of shop Makoto would pick out. Seriously, the cabin name was almost literal. The whole store appeared as if it could have been made from bulky cherrywood planks, with a pair of frosted-over, white-trimmed windows being the only clue to the inside. The door appeared to have been fashioned from lumber as well, with a forest-green sign hanging on it. The characters for ‘OPEN’ were written across the sign in someone’s swooping handwriting, portrayed by a white marker. They’d even taken the care to doodle little ice cream cones and bonbons along the sign’s edges. When her eyes found the rim of the roof, it met her with a scattering of multi-coloured lanterns, all featuring hand-painted illustrations. From the way it looked, each of the lanterns was intended to advertise its own type of dessert or candy. The purple ones all had a shiba inu snacking on manju, the yellow with an ezo red fox enjoying dorayaki, the pink featuring a deer nosing around a few choco-balls. They were so childishly sweet that she couldn’t help but grin at them, knowing for sure that they had plenty of young customers. Without going in, she could already feel the warmth radiating off of the place.

“It’s adorable,” she told him, leaning her head on his shoulder, “Did you see the lanterns?”

He nodded and pointed up at them; his finger directed her to one of the green ones. “The field mouse struggling to enjoy the hi-chew is my personal favourite. It’s so chewy it gets stuck in his little mouth.”

Sure enough, there was a depiction of a field mouse with a sticky green candy in his mouth, trying desperately to chew it. She could relate to that one – Hi-chew was just fruity enough that her grandfather let her have it as a treat every once in a while, and she had many memories of it getting stuck in her teeth. “At least he has good taste. The green apple ones were always my favourite.”

“Mine too.”

Expectation might have led one to expect the couple to do something other than smile and take each other by the hand, but that is where it would be wrong. In times like those, sometimes the only thing either of them needed was to take the other by the hand, and lead them to a new moment of happiness.

Kyoko refused to fight off her sigh of relief as the door to the Confection Cabin closed behind them, the homely air soothing her chilled bones. Though she would be the first to confess about having complained, she hadn’t realized how much the winter air affected her. Now that she was inside where it was all cozy, she wanted nothing more than to snuggle up in Makoto’s arms and have a nice, long nap… and perhaps peel off the layers of her coat that suddenly felt very hot. Such things would have to wait, of course, for an incredibly bubbly staff member bombarded them the moment they entered the restaurant.

“Hello there!” The girl chirped, waving almost too enthusiastically at them. “Welcome to Chieko Chisu’s Confection Cabin. My name is Kajitani Anzu-san, and I’ll be looking after you today. How might I help you? Would you like to explore our nummy candies or mouthwatering desserts today?”

Kyoko couldn’t help but glance over at her fiancé helplessly; talking with staff always made her uncomfortable. Not due to any snobby rich girl disdain for them, of course – her generally more closed-off behaviour simply made it more difficult for her to be comfortable with someone who was so obviously ingenuine. Makoto tended to handle it better, and certainly much more naturally than she ever could.

“Actually, if it would be okay, we’d like to try both!” Without warning, he threw his arm around Kyoko’s shoulders, taking her entirely by surprise. She hoped the staff member hadn’t seen her tense in shock. The last thing she wanted was for this random girl to get the wrong impression about her relationship with Makoto. “You see, my fiancée here has been very deprived of sweets all her life.”

Anzu’s hands flew to her face almost comically; her brown eyes as wide as a full moon. “Oh no! We can’t have that!”

Her fiancé nodded in agreement. “Exactly. Which is why we were wondering if it would be possible to start with desserts, and end off with some candy shopping. Would that be okay?”

It became Anzu’s turn to nod as she clapped her hands together enthusiastically. “Of course, of course, sir! We can manage many a treat for you and your sweetheart! A table for two, I presume?”

The only thing Kyoko could think to contribute was an awkward snicker. “Yes, please.”

“Excellent, now if you’ll just follow me…!”

At this point, Kyoko was very close to bursting like a balloon.

Well, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but she sure felt like it. After an hour in the café portion scarfing down Makoto and Anzu’s recommended desserts, her stomach already felt full to the point of discomfort. Their insistence on her attempting to choke down all of the candies and chocolates the store had to offer only worsened the strain, and now, she felt a bit like a beached whale.

She supposed she could take some pleasure in the fact that Makoto seemed to be feeling the same way. He’d become so full while enjoying the desserts with her that he insisted that they call a cab to bring them home, rather than force themselves to walk the full way with the weight of their packed bellies. As embarrassing as it was to admit, she felt so overwhelmed that she had to oblige.

Even so, it was a good trip, all things considered. Just as promised, she and Makoto packed themselves to the brim with all kinds of goodies. Mochi filled with strawberry ice cream, dango of every colour they could manage, some beautiful winter’s nerikiri, delectable banana mushi pan, and the definitely-as-good-as-promised coffee jelly… Her mouth could have watered at the thought of all of those foods, had it not been for the fullness. She could still recall sitting in her booth with Makoto, the two of them sliding dishes to one another across the table and popping treats into their eager mouths.

“Oh my god,” Makoto had exclaimed upon taking his first bite of the mushi pan, “I think this is the best I’ve ever had.”

Kyoko had already been in the process of enjoying her half of the bun cake, and could agree wholeheartedly. The texture was so light and fluffy that it felt as if it melted in her mouth; the sweet but subtle flavour of banana dancing across her tongue like a memory. “Me too,” she mumbled through a muffled full mouth.

“You have nothing to compare it to! This is your first mushi pan.”

She smiled at him with chipmunk cheeks. “And it’s the best I have ever tasted. Pass the coffee jelly, please?”

“Of course,” he chuckled, “I knew you’d love it.”

What a surprise, the answer tempted her far too much. Hopefully, as her fiancé, he would know her that well. Still, she held her tongue, instead choosing to take another spoonful of the jelly he’d just slid over. Pure heaven the moment it entered her mouth. Coffee jelly plus banana mushi pan tasted like breakfast but better. Together, she and Makoto had entered a sugary paradise.

And now they were laying at home, flopped on their plush blue couch, lethargic and exhausted. Yet, strangely, Kyoko honestly couldn’t help feeling happy. The grin on her face was effortless as she laid her head on her partner’s shoulder; the two of them doing their best to ignore their aching tummies. Even if this was the worst shape her stomach had been in in a while, she couldn’t find it within herself to care. Honestly, she wouldn’t even be willing to categorize the scenario as a mistake.

“Ugh…” Makoto groaned, sticking out his lower lip into a childish pout. “I ate way too many desserts.”

She found herself nodding in agreement, reaching over to pat his belly. “You sure packed away a lot. You ate much more than I did… Not that I’m surprised. You always have been better at eating than me.”

His shoulders rose and fell; a smirk snaked across his face. Clear intent to be cheeky. “What can I say? You called me the chief of confection. I had to do my best… I’m paying for it now, though.”

“As am I,” Kyoko sighed and nuzzled her cheek into his shoulder, “But if I have to feel like I’m going to regorge a rainbow with someone, I’m glad that it’s you. Today was really special, my love.”

She knew his cheeks started burning without looking at him. In spite of their engagement, she didn’t always have the confidence to use pet names with him. ‘My love’ was his absolute favourite, and she liked to spring it on him at unexpected moments like these. It always seemed to bring him the greatest joy. When he spoke, she could hear the smile in his voice.

“I’m glad you liked it. I had a really good time with you, too. I hope we can keep doing stuff like this for a long time.”

Kyoko laughed and raised her hand to eye-level, wiggling her fingers in front of his face. The rose-shaped diamond on the ring glittered at them cheerfully, as if to accentuate her point. “I should hope so. That is what you gave me the ring for, is it not?”

“That’s true,” he snickered, “So I can have good times with the woman I love for the rest of my life.”

“Well, I can’t promise you that I won’t spend the night regurgitating all of the desserts we just ate, but I can promise you that.”

He leaned his head down to rest upon hers. “That’s more than good enough for me.”

#naegiri2020 #danganronpa #naegiri #thh #kyoko kirigiri #makoto naegi #dr1 #makoto x kyoko #naegi x kirigiri #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #kyouko kirigiri #naegi makoto #kirigiri kyoko

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teenwolffanclub-me · 4 years

Text

Season 1, Episode 11: Formality

Hey there beautiful reader! If you’re new here, this is a series I’m writing where each chapter is an episode from the first season of Teen Wolf. If you’ve been here before, hey! I missed you! Previous and future chapters are linked at the end of each part if you want to catch up.

Pairing: Stiles x Psychic! Reader (FINALLY!)

Warnings: angsty angst angst

Notes: Does anyone still like this series? The last part kinda flopped 🤨

Anyway, I’m back and super excited bc my babies are FINALLY official and they only had to almost die like three times to do it!

P.S. Lydia has terrible taste in men, Y/N still sucks at being a psychic, and the high school desperately needs more security

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Have you ever had a day go so unbelievably sideways that you honestly can’t even comprehend how fucked up it is?

Yeah, welcome to my Friday.

“This is the worst! My life is literally over.”

I huffed in annoyance, my jaw dropping at the pure absurdity of that statement. “Scott, Peter tried kidnapping you this morning and you’re worried about a dance?”

He frowned from beside me, his shoulders sagging. Last night, Deaton tried making Stiles and I leave the clinic once he was all patched up, but we both refused. I still wasn’t completely convinced that he was alive until he woke up with a start this morning.

It didn’t take long for Peter to show up, demanding that we hand him over. Actually, I can’t really say we because the three of us hid in the back while Deaton somehow took care of it.

Derek was still hanging out in the Argent’s basement, probably being tortured by Kate but most likely dead by now. I tried talking to Allison when I got to school this morning, but she practically ran away from me when I brought it up. I had no idea how much she knew at this point, and it was freaking me out.

And, to top it all off, Scott was flunking so many classes that coach banned him from the dance tonight.

Clearly, that was the most pressing issue.

He was so desperate afterward that he asked Jackson to watch over Allison, since he is her date. He apparently refused because it’s Jackson, so Scott had been losing his mind with worry all day. He was convinced that Peter would be after her next, but I wasn’t so sure.

She wasn’t an obvious choice. I mean, her family is literally just a bunch of professional werewolf hunters. Adding her to his pack wouldn’t make much sense.

“I just—I can’t sit by and watch him try to kill everyone I love.” Scott forced a hand through his hair with a heavy sigh.

My steps faltered and I peered over at him, my eyebrows raised in surprise. “You love her?”

“Oh,” His eyes widened as he realized what he said. “Yeah. I do. Holy shit. I love her.”

I watched as his lips slowly pulled into a grin, relieved that he wasn’t freaking out for a moment. It’d been pretty obvious for awhile that they loved each other, and I was honestly shocked it had taken him this long to acknowledge it, but happy for him nonetheless.

“That’s it. I’m going tonight.” His face hardened with determination before he turned on his heel and walked away briskly.

“Okay. Bye to you too!” I chuckled, curious to see how he’d manage to sneak in.

I only made it a few steps before someone rammed into my side forcefully. A pair of hands gripped my arms to steady me as I nearly toppled over. My eyes narrowed as they landed on Stiles’ sheepish expression.

“Hey. Sorry.” He let me go quickly and scratched at the back of his head. “Where have you been?”

“Class..?” I drawled slowly, my eyes trailing over his twitchy frame slowly. He seemed more wired than normal, which was saying a lot.

His chest was heaving as if he’d just run a mile—which I’d recently learned he was surprisingly incapable of—and his eyes were shining with barely contained anxiety.

“I just...uh—I have a, I’ve been trying to...will you go to formal with me?” He rushed the words out so quickly, it took me a second to process them.

I just stared at him, waiting a moment to see if he was going to follow that up with anything else. “You mean the one that’s tonight? Are you serious?”

His honey eyes widened, as if he wasn’t expecting that response. I mean, what else was I supposed to say? I’d been waiting for him to ask me for almost two weeks now, and he waits until the day of? Who does that?

“Uh,” He glanced away from me quickly, his cheeks turning pink under the fluorescent lights. “Not if you’re going to say no.”

I just rolled my eyes, ignoring the way my heart began fluttering at the thought of going with him. I took a step forward so that there were only a few inches separating us and leaned up to place a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“It’s a date.” I patted his chest before walking away, an amused smirk pulling at my lips at his stunned expression.

————————

I let my fingers trail over the frilly materials hanging in front of me as I took in my options. I was failing miserably at finding something decent to wear tonight. I wasn’t used to dressing up or being overly girly, so I had no idea where to start. I’d really just been standing here for the last several minutes, overwhelmed by all the colors and textures.

Allison was standing to my left, inspecting a few dresses in a full length mirror. Lydia was long gone somewhere behind me with a mountain of cloth in her arms. I picked up a knee-length blue dress and decided it wouldn’t hurt to try it on.

I saw someone approaching Allison out of my corner of my eye and glanced her way fleetingly, but froze as my gaze locked with Peter’s. I looked around, not fully believing that he was here, before jerking my attention back to him. He gave me a slow, amused smirk before shifting his eyes toward her. My head whipped back to the dresses in front of me, my entire body going rigid as I tried not to alarm her.

Maybe Scott had been right this afternoon. But would he really try to turn her now? In the middle of the mall?

“That’s not your color.” I heard him murmur, and stole another look their way. I didn’t want Allison to catch on that I knew him, or that anything was wrong. Very, very wrong.

Allison shifted her weight, looking uncomfortable as he stared at her intensely. “Sorry if that was intrusive but, considering your skin tone, I’d go lighter.”

“Because I’m pale?” She asked quietly, somehow not questioning the fashion advice from a strange man.

“Fair.” He corrected, his head tilting as he tried to look well-meaning. “I mean, you can’t call skin like yours pale. Not skin that perfect...”

“Okay.” She laughed awkwardly and put the dress she was considering back on the rack beside her.

“Trust me, I have a...unique perspective on the subject.” She nodded and turned to walk away with a tight smile, obviously weirded out, but he stepped to the side so she couldn’t get away. My skin crawled at the predatory gleam in his eyes as he practically sized her up.

She watched nervously as he grabbed a new dress from the rack behind him and took her hand in his. She reeled back instantly at the unwelcome touch, but that didn’t stop him from bringing her skin up beside the material for comparison. “See? Much better.”

I’d heard enough. I took the few steps needed to close the distance between us, my heart racing in my chest. I wasn’t convinced that he was stupid enough to try anything wolfy in public, but I wasn’t about to take any chances, either. I stopped at her side and grabbed her wrist gently. Her wide eyes jerked toward me, swimming with relief.

“Hey, Lydia needs help in the dressing room.” I rushed the lie out quickly, barely registering that she nodded in understanding before pulling her away.

I didn’t even spare another glance at Peter as I weaved through the narrow isles briskly, not stopping until I found Lydia clear on the other end of the store. She actually was by the dressing rooms, posing to herself in a full length mirror. I staggered to a halt at the sight of the champagne dress she had on. It was somehow...familiar?

“That was so creepy.” Allison muttered quietly as she shook my hand off and plopped down onto one of the plush chairs beside the mirrors.

I walked right up to Lydia, unable to stop myself as I continued inspecting her dress. She watched me for a moment and raised her eyebrows expectantly when my gaze rose to meet hers. My face pinched in confusion. There was a persistent nagging at the back of my mind as I looked at her, like there was something I should be picking up on. But I just couldn’t place it.

“I think that’s the one.” I jumped as Allison suddenly spoke up from behind us. I cleared my throat and took a step away from Lydia, realizing how weird I was being.

She turned away from me with one last questioning glance before giving herself a satisfied smile in the mirror, her hands smoothing down the silky material before resting on her hips.

“Me too.” She spun around excitedly and disappeared behind one of the dressing room curtains.

I couldn’t explain it, but I suddenly felt my stomach twist as a dark cloud of dread washed over me.

————————

I looked over Stiles’ shoulder, the hardwood floors beneath my feet vibrating as loud music rang throughout the space. We were slow dancing for the second time tonight, my arms locked around his neck and my head resting against his chest. It was really nice, being this close to him. It helped lower the base level of anxiety I’d been fighting all day.

It’d been nearly an hour since I last saw any of our friends. We all met up with our respective dates at the start of the dance, Lydia having brought a random lacrosse player since Jackson was with Allison. Just then, my eyes found them dancing stiffly a few couples away, but the sight did little to calm my nerves.

He was completely wasted at this point, since he thought it was a good idea to bring a flask of vodka with him, and she was just trying to make the best of it until we all went home. It was clear that neither of them wanted to be here together, but Scott had pretty much threatened him into watching over her, and she didn’t want to be without a date.

Scott successfully snuck in through the roof—don’t ask me how—and was managing to keep an eye on them while dodging coach all night. My eyes swept over the room, seeing nothing but familiar faces, just not the one I was looking for.

Stiles suddenly pulled back and my arms loosened from around his neck. His eyes rounded as they flickered around my face with concern. “You okay?”

I glanced over his shoulder again, feeling uncomfortable under his intense gaze. I didn’t want to lie to him, but I also didn’t know how to explain the uneasy feeling I’d had since we got here. My dancing faltered as I noticed that Jackson and Allison were gone.

“Have you seen Lydia recently?” I asked absently, my eyes still sweeping around the gym quickly.

I took a step away from Stiles and turned all the way around, my chest tightening with anxiety. For some reason, I felt like I needed to find her. Right now. Or something terrible was going to happen. My anxiety was quickly rising to panic when I didn’t see her anywhere.

“Y/N?” Stiles put a hand on my shoulder and I glanced back to see him watching me closely, his brows pinched in confusion.

“I have to...” My skin was crawling with the intense need to get out of here. Something was wrong. I could just feel it. I leaned forward to place a quick kiss on his cheek, already feeling guilty for what I was about to do. “I’m sorry. I’ll be right back.”

I started jogging away before he could try and stop me. My legs had a mind of their own as I stumbled through the dense crowd toward the exit. I braced my hands against the gym doors and pushed my way through, stopping for a moment as they fluttered closed behind me to consider where she could be. I huffed, feeling an urgency deep inside me that was only growing with each passing moment.

I turned on my heel to keep moving, and slammed right into a hard chest. I reeled back, ready to brush past whoever it was, but stopped when I saw that it was Jackson. His chest was heaving, as if he’d been running, and his eyes were wide with fear.

“Jackson?” I asked tentatively, the look he was giving me only increasing my unease.

He stammered silently for a few seconds, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly. His eyes fluttered as they glanced away from me apprehensively. He was acting like he’d just seen a ghost, or maybe something worse.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” I pressed, taking a step toward him.

He gulped and let out a shuddering sigh. “I-I was out behind the school and...and I was...”

“What? What did you do?” My voice hardened with frustration as I narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously. He had definitely been up to something, if his guilt-ridden expression was any indication. I momentarily forgot what I was supposed to be doing as my curiosity peaked.

“I-I told...Allison’s dad, he was...”

My heart skipped a beat with panic at his words. Mr. Argent was behind the school? Why would he...

Oh shit.

Oh my God.

Without even sparing him another glance, I rushed past him and straight down the hall. Within seconds I was outside, the freezing night air causing my skin to rise with goosebumps instantly. My head whipped from side to side as I tried to figure out which way to go. On instinct, I starting running toward the lacrosse field.

My heart was hammering painfully in my chest as I sprinted as fast as humanly possible. I was suddenly very glad that I’d chosen to wear ballet flats tonight, instead of the heels Lydia had tried forcing me to buy. I let my intuition guide me as I kept going until I reached the edge of the field.

I staggered to a stop, my eyes widening at the sight of Lydia standing at the other end. Her back was to me as she walked around slowly, looking lost. I opened my mouth to call her name, feeling my chest loosen just slightly at the fact that she was okay.

I froze, my whole body growing rigid with fear as Peter suddenly emerged from the tree line just outside the field. His figure was mostly cloaked by the bright stadium lights as he approached her, and it didn’t seem like she’d seen him yet.

“Lydia!” I screamed, finally finding my voice through the panic coursing through me. I started running in her direction again, having no plan but just needing to be there with her.

She whipped around at the sound of her name, but made no move to get away. There was nothing I could do but watch in horror as Peter stalked toward her and opened his mouth wide, his eyes flashing bright red. She didn’t react nearly fast enough.

By the time I reached them, she was laying in a crumpled heap on the turf, blood splattered across her dress. All the air rushed from my lungs as a heavy sense of déjà vu washed over me.

Of course, how could I be so stupid? It was the vision I’d seen when Derek helped me, finally playing out in real life.

I let out a trembling breath, my chest feeling like it would collapse any second from the intense pressure. My mind went blank as Peter kneeled over her body, blood dripping down his face. His eyes, still red, slowly swept up to meet mine.

“Well, they don’t usually run toward me, but I’ll take it.” He muttered lowly, an amused smirk twitching at his lips.

My eyes were still locked onto Lydia’s unconscious frame beneath him. Her new dress was ripped, the red stain at her hip growing alarmingly fast. My heart clenched painfully and tumbled down into my stomach at the sight.

I was too late.

Peter took his time standing to his full height. I could feel his intense gaze on me, watching me closely, but I couldn’t look away from Lydia. She was so...broken. A wave of nausea washed over me and I forced my eyes to meet his.

My vision blurred as I tried desperately to catch my breath. “Is she dead?”

My voice was barely above a hoarse whisper, my entire body trembling. It was from the overwhelming terror being this close to Peter initiated, but I wasn’t just scared. I was angry. I knew something was going to happen all day, and I ignored my instincts. I saw this very thing happen weeks ago, but did nothing. And now, Lydia might be dead. Because of me.

Peter hummed low in his throat, his eyes scanning me from head to toe before glancing down at her fleetingly. “Not at the moment.”

A few tears escaped down my cheeks as I tore my gaze away from him to look at her again. I wasn’t even sure if she was breathing. If she was still alive, it was just barely.

My panic only rose as I thought about how unlikely it was that I’d get out of this situation in time to bring her to a hospital. Her chances of survival were dropping by the second. And mine too, probably.

“Tell me, Y/N, what do you see in my future?” Peter look a slow step toward me, and I stumbled back to keep some distance between us.

My eyes jerked up to his as I stiffened, a shiver wracking my body as I became more aware of the freezing temperature. “How do you know about that?”

The earth crunched beneath his shoes as he stalked toward me. I stood impossibly still, knowing I wouldn’t be able to escape him. He didn’t stop until he loomed only inches away.

“How does anyone know anything?” He murmured hoarsely into my ear, and I recoiled back, my stomach clenching painfully in disgust. My eyes pinched shut as one of his hands came up to brush a stray lock of hair away from my face. “You, my dear, would make a fantastic beta.”

My eyes jerked open again and I took a miniscule step away from him, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. “Trust me, I wouldn’t. I’ve been told I can be really annoying. I wouldn’t make a good beta. Or a good anything, really. I’m hardly a psychic. You should just keep searching because, you know, whatever it is you’re looking for...isn’t me.”

“Oh, I think I’m willing to take my chances.” Time seemed to slow as his eyes flashed bright red, his mouth opening wide to show his razor sharp canines.

I whipped around, ready to at least attempt running for my life, but instantly froze at the sight of Stiles barreling toward us.

“No!” I shouted frantically, my heart leaping into my throat with panic.

A strong arm wrapped around my stomach and wrenched me backward. I slammed against Peter’s chest, hard. The air was knocked out of my lungs from the force, just as a clawed hand snaked around my throat.

Stiles lurched to a stop in front of us, his dress shoes slipping on the damp turf. He flailed to the ground before popping back up instantly, his eyes wide with horror as they glanced down at Lydia before landing on me.

“Don’t kill her. Please.” His voice was trembling with desperation as he held a hand out toward us hesitantly.

The tips of Peter’s claws dug into my skin and I winced, tears now running freely down my face. I was terrified. For myself, Lydia, and now Stiles. Peter had killed many times before, and there was literally nothing stopping him now. Stiles’ eyes flickered to my neck, his jaw clenching tightly.

“Of course not. Just tell me how to find Derek.” Peter drawled, as if he wasn’t currently poised to do the opposite.

“W-what?” Stiles stammered, seemingly surprised by that request. His gaze was still firmly planted on Peter’s hand.

I felt a sharp stabbing at the base of my throat and my lips parted as a shuddering gasp escaped me. He was surely drawing blood at this point. Stiles’ eyes widened with alarm at the sight and his hand jerked toward us as if he were itching to intervene.

“Tell me how to find Derek Hale.” Peter leaned down, his warm breath fanning my shoulder. I tried jerking my head away, my heart lurching in my chest at his close proximity, but didn’t get far with his tight hold around me.

“I don’t know that! How would I know that?” Stiles’ voice rose to a frantic shout, his chest heaving as his glistening eyes finally moved up to Peter.

“You’re the clever one, aren’t you? And because deception has a very particularly accurate scent, Stiles. Tell me the truth. Or I will rip her apart.”

As if to prove the validity behind his words, his hand tightened around my throat. I instantly started pulling at his fingers as I felt my airway closing. My lips parted in a silent gasp, my lungs spasming painfully as I tried to force a breath in.

“Look. I don’t know! Okay?” Stiles rushed the words out in a complete panic, his eyes darting between Peter and my neck. Tiny black spots dotted my vision as I felt myself growing faint. “I swear—I swear to God I have no idea!”

Peter hummed low in his throat, his chest vibrating against my back. “Wrong again.”

Everything that happened next must’ve taken place in only a few seconds, but they seemed to drag on and on. Peter’s head jerked down to my left shoulder, his teeth digging into my skin easily. A scream tore through my throat as he finally released it, my vision blurring as unbearable pain rippled along my upper body.

Stiles face crumbled in utter horror and he lunged toward me just as Peter’s arms disappeared. I tried gasping for breath as I sagged to the ground, but my body just wasn’t cooperating. It felt like Stiles caught me, but I couldn’t be sure as I lost all feeling in my limbs.

Then, everything went black.

————————

I stirred, already wincing in pain as I slowly regained consciousness. A high pitched droning was the only sound in my otherwise quiet surroundings. My eyes fluttered open and instantly squinted against the harsh fluorescent lights above me.

Everything felt heavy. I sluggishly started turning my head away from the lights, but jerked to a stop as searing pain radiated from my shoulder. My face fell into a grimace as a pitiful groan escaped my lips.

Something shuffled at the foot of my bed and I froze. My heart jumped in my chest with panic. Memories of Peter came flooding back all at once, and I started trembling with fear at the unknown presence.

Stiles jerked upright, appearing at my side a split second later. I let out a small sigh of relief, wincing as my lungs angrily protested each breath I took. My body began relaxing as I realized I was safe.

“Oh my God! Y/N!” He practically yelled in my face as he leaned down over me. “Are you okay? Wait, that’s a stupid question. How are you feeling? Does it hurt?”

One of his hands disappeared beneath the thin mesh blanket covering my body and he pulled out a hallow cord with a small switch in the middle. “If it hurts you can push this button as much as you want and I won’t tell. You’ll be higher than a kite, but—”

“Stiles.” My voice was barely above a hoarse whisper as I interrupted his frantic rambling. “I feel okay. Just tired.”

Truthfully, I hadn’t been awake long enough to know how I felt. I’d gathered that I was in the hospital, but obviously didn’t know much else. My entire left side hurt like hell.

My eyes trailed over Stiles quickly, noting that he was still wearing his clothes from the dance. His white button up was stained with blood and dirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His black jacket had been discarded on a table by the door.

Maybe it hadn’t been long, then?

“Seriously?” He sagged down into the chair that sat beside my bed, his eyes widening in surprise. “You were asleep for almost thirty hours.”

“I was what?” I planted my hands on either side of my hips and pushed myself up, ignoring the pain that ripped through my shoulder at the movement.

How the hell had I been out that long? That meant it was already Sunday, although probably somewhere around midnight. Too many panicked thoughts invaded my mind at once to make sense out of any one of them.

Stiles bolted back to his feet and pushed me against the bed with a disapproving glare. “It was actually twenty eight hours, forty seven minutes, and sixteen seconds, if that makes you feel better.”

“You know what, somehow it does.” I huffed sarcastically with a roll of my eyes, wiggling around on the hard mattress in an effort to get comfortable again.

Stiles twitched his eyes at me while he sat back down apprehensively, as if not trusting me to stay put. He brought a hand up to rub at the back of his neck as he glanced down to my injured shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Y/N...”

“For what?” My brows furrowed in confusion. I really had no idea why he would be apologizing. There was definitely a list of people that should feel bad right now, but he wasn’t one of them.

“I should’ve listened. If I’d just told him what he wanted...” He let out a heavy sigh and rested his elbows onto his knees before dropping his head into his hands.

I reached out and took one of his hands in mine, rubbing my fingers across his skin soothingly as he looked up at me cautiously. He had no reason to blame himself. Peter had already proven time and time again that he’s literally insane, and I’d made the stupid decision to run toward him mid-attack. I had a feeling he would’ve bitten me either way, regardless of anything Stiles did.

“It’s not your fault.” His lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes glistening with a slew of intense emotions.

I didn’t even have time to start deciphering them before he sat forward in his chair, his face hardening with determination. “I should’ve brought this up before I had to watch you almost die, but...you’re not—you know, how you are with me...with any other guys, right?”

His voice was timid as he struggled to stutter out the words. My heart swelled in my chest as my lips pulled up into a small smile. That was the most adorable, perfect, Stiles way of phrasing that question. For a moment, I forgot about all my worries.

“Stilinski, are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

His eyes twitched as he squeezed his fingers around mine minutely. “Only if you’re gonna say yes.”

I didn’t even have to think about it for a second.

“Of course I’m saying yes, you dork.” I let out a breathy giggle as a big grin took over his face.

His caramel eyes shined with happiness as he brought my hand against his mouth to place a gentle kiss on my fingers. It was about damn time we had that conversation. I honestly shouldn’t be surprised that it took us this long to make things official, considering how stubborn we both are. Regardless, it felt amazing to finally be able to call him my boyfriend.

My boyfriend, Stiles. It had a nice ring to it.

I only let myself relish the moment for a few more seconds before finally asking about the one thing I’d been dreading thinking about since waking up.

“How’s Lydia? Is she...?” I trailed off, not able to say the word out loud.

When I’d seen her last, she was only moments away from death. I was sure of it. If I’d been here this long from a bite to the shoulder, I couldn’t imagine the damage that had been done to her. My heart clenched with regret as I thought back to all the moments I could’ve done something differently that would’ve saved her.

Stiles winced beside me, hesitating for a long moment before answering in a quiet mumble. “She’s uh...missing.”

“Excuse me?” I instantly tried bolting upright at his words, my anxiety skyrocketing. Missing? How could she be missing?

He guided me back down gently with a hand on my uninjured shoulder, his eyes narrowing again in warning. “Yeah. She just kinda disappeared from her room this morning.”

It was like he could sense that I was about to try getting up again, as he peered down at me sternly and pressed his hand down more firmly. “My dad already has the entire department out searching. There’s nothing you can do.”

My mind was racing with anxious, jumbled thoughts. She could’ve been taken if no one was sitting by her bedside like Stiles had clearly done for me. Or, she could’ve run away. But why would she do that? She was in the hospital. Where she was safe and getting treatment. I guess, there was always a chance that she’d taken to the bite and shifted already...

I didn’t know what any of this meant for me. I could only assume at this point that I wasn’t a werewolf. I mean, my shoulder clearly hadn’t miraculously healed yet. I figured, if I were, it would’ve done so by now. I was just incredibly glad—and lucky—to be alive.

My eyes met Stiles’ as he leaned back in his chair and inspected me closely. He kept glancing toward the place where Peter had bitten me as he drummed his fingers against his lips. It was like he couldn’t tear his gaze away.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I breathed, suddenly nervous. His anxious expression couldn’t mean anything good.

“There’s something I keep—something Derek said awhile ago that I can’t get out of my head.” He mumbled, his eyebrows furrowing in apprehension.

I looked at him expectantly, urging him to continue. He was seriously starting to freak me out.

“The bite—he said it either kills you...and I think we’re good on that one...”

I glowered at his poorly timed sarcasm as his eyes continued flickering between my own and my shoulder. He swallowed thickly, and I could practically see his heart racing as he let out a ragged sigh. He finally caught my gaze, twitching uncomfortably in his seat.

“Or it changes you.”

Well, shit.

Episode 10 Episode 12

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wonderlustlucas · 4 years

Text

satori - park chanyeol

⇢ prompt Let’s make it forever.—sequel to greatest gift ⇢ pairing chanyeol x female reader ⇢ word count 14.3k ⇢ genre fluff & smut ⇢ warnings explicit sexual content, small dirty talk, fingering, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms (just 3 don’t get excited), unprotected sex, creampie, mild cumplay?, i think that’s all this is basically pwp but somehow 14k words ⇢ summary It’s been a little more than two years since you and Chanyeol started dating and you have never been so happy. Perhaps you are just blinded by love, but things are perfect and you cannot help but think it has something to do with having the love of your life always by your side. You also cannot help but think this kind of love lasts forever.—established relationship!au ⇢ a/n ok i really wasn’t planning on writing a sequel to greatest gift but then like 1 person asked me to & then i was inspired by 170727 kokobop chanyeol watch the fancam dudes that’s the exact outfit he wears in this & have been listening to forever religiously & really just wanted to write pcy saying ‘nice skirt’ so here we are. u don’t need to read greatest gift to read this but u will have more background info ab characters & relationships. ok that’s all from me, i really spilled my heart out into this one & am very proud so i hope u love satori as much as i do! ♥︎

In the midst of your monotonous Pinterest scrolling, the unlocking and opening of the front door tears your attention away from the video that so enticingly grasps your attention, no matter how badly you wish it to finish. Glancing up, you first look to the television, where your fourth episode of Property Brothers drones on, flickering light into the otherwise dark room. Then, it is Toben who catches your eye, head lifting from his position by your feet at the sound of the door clicking shut. So quick is he to abandon you, excitedly leaping down from the sofa to greet his human. In all honesty, you do not blame him; he simply is not as lazy as you are on this dreary Friday night.

Well, perhaps not so dreary anymore. Sure, the unremitting, hazy rain and grey clouds beyond the warm confines of your apartment beg to differ, but inside, the sun itself has entered.

“You know what’s sad?” You call out to him, lips quirked in amusement.

“What?” He answers from down the hall, followed by the rustle of his jacket as he hangs it onto the coat rack. The familiar deepness of his voice alone is enough to put you at ease; instantly, you feel like putty against the pillow propped beside you when you imagine his humored smile. At the sound of Toben’s nails scratching against the hardwood as he scurries back into the room, you take one last lingering glimpse to the video that has been playing on loop on your phone.

“I don’t know how to tie a tie.”

Making his way down the foyer, he laughs. Barely a low chuckle, mostly out of confusion at your out-of-the-blue statement, but this makes you crack a smile nonetheless.

“Why should you know how to tie a tie?”

You know he is finally here without having to look up. You can feel it, the way his presence beckons for your attention effortlessly, tugging at the strings of your heart and the cords to your soul. The way the room seems to instantly grow warmer, brighter, the way just seeing his frame, tall and regal in your peripheral vision, is enough to have your legs quivering with the need to have him closer. “I don’t know,” you snort, turning to look at him at last, “wouldn’t it be cute if I did your tie before we went out?”

“___, how often do we go places where a tie is necessary?” Chanyeol muses, though you don’t exactly pay any mind to his reasoning. It’s not that you are ignoring him, you’re just… taking time to engrave this image in your mind, just like every other day. He’s beautiful, you distantly note, the epitome of your dreams standing at the entrance of the living room like a beacon, blue light from the TV flashing against his oversized olive-green sweatshirt and hair falling in floofy curls over his forehead. His hair.

His hair.

Somewhere in between you slowly blinking at him in the dark and leaning forward to turn the light on, he asks how your day was. Now, this goes ignored, brain preoccupied trying to fully process the fact that his hair is pink.

“You— what? When?” Overlooking his question, you sputter, “I thought you were at work!”

Amused at your baffled astonishment, Chanyeol kicks his sneakers off near the shoe rack before making his way over, stifling a laugh at your rendered silence. “Do you like it?” He asks, scooping your legs up from the sofa so he can crash down close beside you, quickly laying them over his lap.

Pinterest ‘how to tie a tie’ video long forgotten, you toss your phone onto the coffee table and lean forward, grasping his face in both hands in order to lower the crown of his head to your nose. With only a single inhale, the accumulative scent of bleach and hair dye and everything salon nearly has your eyes watering before you drop your hands. At that, you lean back far enough to fully admire him in the light, cheeks and lips puffy from a long day, skin glowing with the remnants of misty rain, but the hair. Oh good God, the hair. A shade somewhere in between bubblegum pink and your favorite lip gloss, it has your insides alight with butterflies in seconds.

“And here I thought you couldn’t get any more handsome,” you finally sigh, burying your face into your palms. The anxiety that had begun fizzing in his nerves from your scrutinizing is immediately extinguished, replaced with a fresh wave of pride to his ego and, well, absolute adoration for you.

“Is that a yes?” Chanyeol laughs, loud and boisterous as he bends to awkwardly lie against you, paying no mind to the way the furniture creaks as he wiggles his way into the small space. “Duh,” you scoff, moving your arm so he can better nestle his long ass self between your legs, “I thought red was my favorite, but now I’m not so sure.” When he laughs again, you feel it in your soul, the vibrations resonating within you and you can’t help but wrap your arms around his shoulders, tugging him closer. Once he’s caught on that you desperately, always, crave for such proximity, Chanyeol instantly shimmies his way up, dimple prominent when you cup his face one more time to press a welcoming kiss first to his forehead, then his nose, then his lips. “I missed you.”

“I bet I missed you more,” he replies once satisfied five kisses later, turning his head to rest against his favorite pillow, aka your chest. Knowing you will never win in any such argument like this with him, you bite your tongue and take to combing your fingers through the freshly colored strands of hair, cringing at the thought that it won’t be this soft after he’s washed it. “So, what made you do this?”

He shrugs, half of his attention paid toward the renovation reveal displayed on the TV. “Thought I’d switch it up for Easter, so I just went before heading to the studio.”

“What did Jongdae think?” You wonder with a laugh. Out of all Chanyeol’s friends, Jongdae was never one to go for the extravagant hair colors. Orange was the extent of his spectrum, and even that was short-lived. “Said he liked it, then called me an Easter egg, so who knows,” he grumbles, clearly troubled by his friend’s lack of an immediate, one hundred percent approval. This in itself is enough to make you laugh, but you choose to change the subject for the sake of Chanyeol’s immeasurable ego. “Speaking of,” you hum, enamored with just the sliver of his face you can see from this angle, “how’s the album going?”

“It’s good,” Chanyeol hums, chin digging into your sternum when he turns to look at you once more, “Jongdae is gonna start recording on Monday.” As he says this, he stretches his arms above your head before flopping them down by your sides, one cold hand sneaking under the hem of your crew neck to splay against the warmth of your back. Now, this is mutualism at its finest: with the two of you seemingly always running at an internal temperature too high, you both are feens for a cold touch once in awhile. So, as Chanyeol gets to warm his hands up, you, too, benefit with the coolness against your burning skin. It also may have to do with that time he had ice cubes against your—

You shake your head to rid the tantalizing memory.

“I’m so excited to hear it,” you whisper without meaning to, perhaps reduced to mush at your current intimacy, “with his voice, knowing you wrote the majority of the album. Ah, it’s gonna be beautiful.” Pushing his bangs back and giving his scalp a good scratch all the way to the nape of his neck, you add with a wrinkle of your nose, “I wish it was you, though.”

Chanyeol lets out an amused snort, one eye peeled open to glare at you for disrupting the drowsy daze you have cast him under. “But you already have my singing all to yourself, you don’t need an album,” he mutters, voice marbled with sleep and your fingers twitch with the need to trace the swell of his pouty lips. You do it, anyway, and receive a chaste kiss to the pad of your thumb in return.

“How was the museum?” He asks nearly ten minutes later, stirring just slightly to stretch the arm not curled around you up and past your head. You were under the impression he was fast asleep if the shallowness of his breath was anything to go by. Perhaps not. “Slow Friday, as usual,” you sigh, aching to stretch, too, now that the weight of having a grown ass man on you has finally taken its toll, “had a live animal show with the barn owl and Branch, again.”

“Branch is the new opossum, right?” Chanyeol questions, suddenly pushing himself up enough to sit back on his heels. He must have noticed your stiffness. Offering him an appreciative smile, you lean up and fluff the now squashed pillow beneath you before flopping back down on your side. “Yeah,” you hum, pulling him down to rejoin you, “he’s cute. Imprinted, too, so he loves cuddles. Almost as much as you.” It’s awfully cramped with your back pressed up against the leather and Chanyeol flush against you, but you would never complain about having him so close. You usually can’t get close enough.

“I’ll never forget the raccoons. They were so cute,” Chanyeol hums, reminiscent to the singular time your boss allowed you to sneak him in to meet all of the museum’s disabled animals. With his hipbone pressed against the curve of your stomach, he slots one long leg between your own, surely building his nest even though he should eat and shower before getting comfortable. “That was fun,” you agree, pausing for just a moment when his hand, large enough to cradle half of your face, comes to do so. “They were hella messy though, ugh,” grumbling, you return his previous gesture and press a kiss to the palm of his hand when his thumb goes about running along your bottom lip, “I’ll never forget the time Lavender shit in their enclosure asI was cleaning it.”

Chanyeol frowns, brows quickly drawing together and the sudden change in his expression certainly throws you off guard. “Don’t talk about raccoon shit when I’m about to kiss you,” he murmurs, leaning up on one elbow to ever so slightly hover over you.

“Oh?” You chuckle, dragging your hands up the ridges of muscle in his arms to link behind his neck. “I didn’t know that was your plan.” Like this, you still can’t fight your smile at just how well the pink hair compliments the warmth of his honey complexion.

Lips jutting out in a deeper pout, Chanyeol slips his hand under your shirt to grab ahold of your waist. “That’s always my plan,” he sighs longingly, finally swooping down to capture your lips in a kiss powerful enough for the world around you to fall away.

When you wake, you come to realize three abnormalities.

First, your pillow is not where it should be. Flat on your stomach and limbs spread like a starfish, you raise your head just enough to catch the corner of said pillow staring at you sadly from the floor below.

Second, you are cold. This, you have no one to blame but yourself, having torn your clothes off in a hurry and fallen asleep soaked in the warmth of one another. Now, with the blankets only coming up mid-back, you cannot fight your shivers at the cold air against your bare skin.

And lastly, Chanyeol is still awake.

It takes several moments for you to come to your senses, feeling as if you have awoken from a season long hibernation, the haze and confusion of having abruptly awakened rendering you incompetent when it comes to gathering your wits for several moments. Finally, once you have realized where you are, you first take to wiping at the drool that has pooled directly onto the sheets and, consequently, crusted onto your cheek. Nice. Pausing just a moment to collect your disoriented thoughts once more, you then lean half your body off the bed to retrieve your pillow with a grunt, and, just a little further away, your shirt. On your way back up, you catch the time on your nightstand shining an angry 2:43 am at you.

“What are you still doing up?” You ask, voice groggy and thick with sleep once you have flopped onto your back, chest heaving with the unnecessary effort you just had to exert in the middle of your weekend slumber. Squinting past the shine of the bedside lamp he’s kept on and the bright screen of his laptop, you recline just enough to see that he’s… online shopping?

“Baekhyun showed me this really cool site for colored contacts,” Chanyeol explains, then, after turning to you with furrowed brows and a worried pout, “did I wake you?”

God, you’re confused, brain in no state to try and figure out why he’s looking at colored contacts at almost three in the morning when he had fallen asleep with you no more than four hours ago. “No, no… well, actually, I don’t know, I think I just woke up on my own,” you murmur, sitting up to pull the crew neck over your head, “why… why are you looking at contacts, again?”

The rasp of his chuckle is enough to draw you closer, rolling to meet his side and pressing your cheek against his shoulder. “Baekhyun said blue contacts with pink hair is a good look, so I’m gonna order a pair,” he whispers, lifting his arm despite your grumble of protest to curl around your shoulders and tug you close. The white light from his laptop is a bit too harsh on your eyes, but you manage to keep one half open to peek at the selection. Then, “You’re so weird. Go to bed.”

“I will, after I order,” he whispers for the sake of letting you fall back asleep, yet you can hear the smile in his voice. “Yeah, whatever,” you grunt, turning onto your other side but still latching onto his arm, “get me a pair, too.”

For the brief time in between living with college roommates and then moving with Chanyeol, sleeping in on Saturday mornings in the comfort of your own apartment was always your favorite. No obligations, no work, and certainly no one to disturb you. Whether you finally rolled out of bed at ten, one, or four o’clock--- it didn’t matter. If you had plans at night, you still had plenty of time to get ready and you were in a much better mood to socialize than the other days of the week. Sleeping in on Saturdays till whatever time deemed sufficient simply brings about a whole new level of comfort and consists of several factors at the root of such leisure.

This list certainly became askew, however, once you and Chanyeol began spending nights with one another. Before, simply waking to a quiet apartment, ceiling fan humming and sunlight trickling through the bottom of your blinds was your favorite part of the week. But waking up with the love of your life curled into you certainly makes this experience all the better. And at this point, it seems as if waking up with the warmth of Chanyeol’s breath against the nape of your neck will remain at the top of your list forever.

So, for that to be absent is enough to startle you into an upright position only seconds after you have opened your eyes. Palm coming to slap against the deserted Chanyeol-indented space of mattress beside you, you stroke up and down the sheets, once, twice, before the lingering warmth on the pillow and sheets eases your nerves. Spinning to catch the time, you squint as if that will kickstart the drowsy parts of your brain to comprehend 12:37 pm and all the possible reasons why he is not here with you before tossing the blankets aside and rising with a much-needed stretch.

Shielding your eyes from the sunlight seeping in from between the blinds, you first reach for your underwear tossed haphazardly by the window before half-shimmying them up your legs and half-hopping to the door. Perhaps he’s in the office, you wonder, stepping into the foyer but alas, the door remains open and the lights off. Just as you’ve wandered into the living room, scratching by the front door to the right of you is immediately followed by the lock clicking open and, seconds later, Chanyeol has returned.

You’re a little thrown off. Sweatpants, wrinkled t-shirt, moccasins, and a terribly cute case of bedhead, it seems as if he just rolled out of bed seconds prior. But in his hands, he holds two full grocery bags and Toben’s leash.

“Good morning,” he smiles softly, eyes puffy with sleep. Yep, definitely just woke up. “Mom called,” he explains, lifting the bags before passing them to you so he can unhook Toben, “said something about… someone else not being able to cook a main for tomorrow... so she asked if we could do the Easter bread and brought all the stuff for it.” He explains as you rummage through the groceries. Milk, yeast, a carton of eggs; all things you have here, but Mrs. Park’s kindness never fails to surprise you. “Ah,” humming, you make way for the kitchen counter to set everything down, “I was very confused.”

“Sorry,” joining you in the kitchen, Chanyeol curls an arm around your waist and tugs you closer to kiss your temple, “I didn’t want to wake you.” Lining all the dry ingredients up for later, you hand him the rest to put in the refrigerator. “Well, thank you,” flashing him an appreciative smile, you finally take to rubbing your eyes as it seems you won’t be going back to bed anytime soon, “do you want anything to eat? I can make eggs if you make pancakes.” Crust sufficiently wiped from your eyes, you lean against the cabinets and glance to Chanyeol, soaking in the way he seems to glow in the sunlight illuminating him and the messy curls of pink hair. Ugh. He’s the worst.

“Breakfast sounds good,” he agrees, gaze flickering down to your bare legs for hardly a second before taking two short steps closer and suddenly, you’re not so sure he means eggs and pancakes if the way his eyes darken is anything to go by.

“You should probably put some pants on, first,” Chanyeol rumbles with a thoughtful rise of his brows, one hand anchoring onto the curve of your waist while another dips into the waistband of your panties before letting it slap back against your skin.

Despite the burning desire that flares in your abdomen at the daring move, you jut your chin out, eyeing him contentiously. “Oh! You’re right,” smirking, you force yourself to avoid making eye contact in order to calmly slip out of his grip, “let me go grab some sweats.”

You’ve hardly made it to the dining table by the time he’s back on you, reaching for your wrist and spinning you to meet his chest. At the near growl that escapes him, you quite literally quiver from head to toe. “So funny, I forgot to laugh,” Chanyeol grumbles, gripping the back of your thighs to help you onto the wood before diving in to kiss you.

It quite literally sucks the life out of you, but then again, that’s every kiss with him. “I thought it was pretty funny,” you giggle before he really has you loopy on the taste of him, but it doesn’t take long for your jaw to slacken, allowing him further access. So quickly you fall under his spell, fingers curling into the hairs at the nape of his neck and legs coming to wrap around his waist when the kiss turns into nothing more than a clash of teeth and tongue. It doesn’t take long for him to rid you of your shirt, either, or have you lying back before him as he places hot, open-mouthed kisses all the way down from your throat to the waistband of your underwear. Christ, this poor table.

Good thing this is the only such meal ever eaten here.

Out of fear that he would stop once you mentioned anything, you have never complimented Chanyeol on his shower singing. Sure, you have heard him loud and clear throughout your home and sometimes even when he’s secluded in his office, but something tells you singing in the shower is different. You wouldn’t necessarily call it an invasion of privacy considering no such privacy exists in your relationship by now, but you simply do not want to mention it because knowing him, he subconsciously will either sing quieter or amp it up knowing you are listening in. And you don’t want him to change what he’s already doing.

With your back facing the bathroom door, you remain in the same position Chanyeol left you in, on your side with your head on his pillow rather than your own. You should probably get out of bed soon, anyway, the colon between the ten and forty-three on the clock blinking at you in judgment, but listening to Chanyeol sing along to a fourth Radiohead song with the luxurious smell of him around you is a much better alternative. You have plenty of time to get ready, you tell yourself, nestling deeper into the pillow, only seconds before Chanyeol’s singing ceases as he turns the water off. Frowning, you take this as your cue to give up any possible five-minute nap and return to your side of the bed to retrieve your phone.

“Are you up?” Chanyeol calls from behind the door just as you have opened up Instagram. “Yeah!”

He opens the door at your confirmation, showering steam and light into the otherwise cave-like bedroom. “I’m gonna have to leave soon,” Chanyeol says once you have rolled over to look him, towel wrapped snuggly around his hips and Q-tip in ear, “Mom is in her usual panic and asked if I could help her out.” Frowning, you flop onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. “What ever am I to do without you for two and a half hours?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” he hums, making his way over and leaning over you, arms coming to rest at each side of your head. You twitch when a droplet of water running down his jaw falls onto your cheek. “G’morning, by the way,” he mumbles against your lips after coming closer and you graciously return the soft kiss he offers you. Of course, you pull him back for a second, much deeper one, smiling when he ever so slightly shifts when your fingers come to trail up the toned expanse of his stomach, hand coming to cradle his jaw.

You pull back with a sly smile when his tongue threatens to push past the seam of your lips. “Do you know what you’re wearing?” You ask, ignoring the betrayed look in his eyes when you sit up and nudge him out of the way. “No,” he grumbles, returning to the bathroom once he realizes he is not getting anything more than a kiss. Stifling a laugh, you swing your legs over and sit on the edge of the mattress, watching him comb product through his hair. After two showers, it already seems to have lost its initial pop of color. Sad.

Rising with a stretch, you head toward the closet and stop along the way to pull a pair of sweatpants up your legs—just so he doesn’t get any ideas—and flip the closet light on before opening the doors. At the sound of the hairdryer roaring to life, you take to sifting through the shirts he has hung up, trying to avoid the blacks as this is his family’s annual Easter get-together. It certainly is not as extravagant as Christmas, but Chanyeol is a man of style and you know he prides himself showing up as best dressed. Going something pastel would be a nice change for the spring season, but yet again… you linger on a navy button-up. The white decal means he could wear white pants, but it is a little casual, barely a step up from a Hawaiian shirt, but maybe he could wear a nice jacket with it.

Plucking it by the hanger, you turn toward the bathroom and hold the seemingly unworn shirt out to him as he moves to the last section of damp hair. “This, with white pants? Do you have a jacket this color?” You shout over the hairdryer, reaching to brush away a tuft of hair falling in his eyes. Chanyeol considers it for a moment, gaze flickering back to his reflection before nodding to you. “Yeah, in the other closet, though. Thank you,” you just barely hear him but smile nonetheless, stealing the dryer from him to direct the hot air toward the back where hair refuses to lay flat.

Passing it back to him when you’re done, he only does one more run through before switching it off and moving on to gel just to assure the hair he has combed back stays up and away from his forehead. “You look really handsome with it parted like that,” you compliment, staring up at him with wide eyes and you mentally slap yourself at how flustered you sound. Dating for over two years and you still can’t get a grip. The look on his face makes your embarrassment worth it, though. “I had no idea how the back looked, so thank you,” Chanyeol chuckles, rinsing residue gel off his hands before unplugging the hairdryer and ushering you back into your bedroom. Not without another kiss, of course. As a treat.

Hooking the hanger with his shirt onto the doorknob of the closet, you take to undressing as he does the opposite, tossing your sleep apparel to the hamper and only stopping to help him redo the buttons of his shirt he so kindly misaligned. “I’m gonna get in the shower,” you hum, goosebumps coming in waves when his hand comes to glide against your bare skin, starting at your waist, up the curve of your breast, over your collarbones and finally cradling your neck, “I’ll see you in a little bit?”

“Yes ma’am,” he affirms, ducking to peck the corner of your mouth, “I’ll get an Uber so you can have the car?”

“No! You drive, don’t you have to pick stuff up? I’ll Uber,” you offer, wrapping your arms around him and blinking up at him with your chin sitting on his chest. When he shakes his head you realize, as usual, there’s no point in arguing. “It’s fine,” Chanyeol grins, pinching your side, “no one else gets to drive my girl but me.” Rolling your eyes to counteract the heat that flares its way up your neck, you pull away, smoothing out the wrinkles you made in his shirt. “Yeah, whatever. Don’t forget a jacket.”

“I won’t,” smiling, he leans over to give you a proper kiss this time, “see you at two.”

Once the Park family, as well as distant relatives and close friends, found out you and Chanyeol were together, things certainly changed.

You were no longer simply Seoyun’s best friend. Everyone knew you at that point, sure, accepted the fact that where Seoyun went, you followed, but dating Chanyeol had all the stage lights pointing to you. You couldn’t necessarily understand why that came to be, but assumed that it simply had to do with how popular he is, even in his own family. For someone not nearly as outgoing as Chanyeol, the news came as a surprise to many on that monumental Christmas party two years ago. Others, however, apparently had their bets on when the two of you would finally crumble for years.

Chanyeol’s mother, for example, was one such person.

For as many things that went wrong this morning, from your straightener not heating past one-fifty, to having a breakdown over what to wear, and even messing up your eyeliner one too many times, you have somehow arrived seven minutes early. Before you left, Chanyeol had called, too, asking you to pick up two bottles of soju and a bag of glass noodles because 1) him and his cousins already managed their way through a bottle and 2) the noodle pack his mom picked up was half the serving she needed. This alone tells you you’re in for a long night.

Christ, it would have been nice if he was here to open the door for you, though. With a heavy grocery bag, wrapped Easter bread, keys, and handbag threatening to slip off your shoulder, it takes ample effort to safely hook your pinkie finger around the grocery bag so you can lock the car. Then, you manage to open the storm door with your elbow, seconds away from dropping the Easter bread in the endeavor. Chanyeol claims he forgot it on the counter. Luckily, the maroon front door with its pretty spring wreath has been left ajar, and it isn’t until you have finally slipped your way inside does someone realize whoever’s huffing and puffing out there needs help.

“Here, I’ll take this,” he offers in a rush, further opening the door to accommodate the two of you and taking the bread from your arms.

“Thank you,” you smile, wiping your boots on the welcome mat before looking up to your knight in shining armor.

Oh. Oh.

“I don’t think I’ve met you before,” you chuckle, squinting at the ridiculously attractive stranger. Phew. There’s no way you would have missed such a face in all your years with the Park family whether Chanyeol was the apple of your eye or not.

“No, you haven’t. This is my first rodeo around here,” he grins brightly. His smile makes him even more attractive, if that is possible. “I’m Jongin. Nice to meet you…?”

Oh. Oh.

“Jongin, as in Kim Jongin Park Seoyun’s boyfriend?”

“Yes…?” He trails off awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. “You apparently know me, yet I don’t know you.”

“I’m ___,” you laugh, stepping past him and leading him out of the front foyer. When you glance back at him, you can see the gears turning in his brain before an excited expression of recognition flashes across his face. “Oh! Oh, shit. You’re the infamous ___. Christ, sorry. Hi.”

“I’m not sure why you’re apologizing, but then again, I have no idea what that woman has said about me,” laughing, you pause to wave to some of Chanyeol’s cousins in the family room before continuing with Jongin to the kitchen, “don’t trust anything she says. I promise I’m nice. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, though, Mr. Jongin.”

“Ah, you as well,” smiling softly, he seems quite overwhelmed at the Park’s rowdiness, gaze anxiously flickering around the crowded room as he ever so slightly steps closer. You distantly wonder why Seoyun would leave him stranded, but that’s not your problem. “So, if you are ___, does that mean you’re…”

Like some sort of cartoon, Jongin trails off just as both of you find Chanyeol in the crowd, beer in one hand and bowl in another as his mother deposits what looks like mussel and scallop shells into it. Maybe it’s your automatic Chanyeol-tunnel-vision, but even in the midst of the busy room he seems to be the rising star, standing tall and regal by the counter, laugh booming over all the noise and simply glowing in the warm wash of light. He managed to find a navy jacket practically matching his shirt, too. Dear God. “Yeah,” once you finally tear your gaze away to turn to Jongin, he’s already watching you, smiling at the way you so lovingly looked at Chanyeol. “I’m the lucky lady.”

“Hey, he’s the lucky one,” Jongin adds, nudging you with his elbow. Seoyun certainly got a good one. “Speaking of lucky,” you start, craning your neck to search for said girl, “where’s S—”

“___!”

You are so kindly interrupted by your intoxicated boyfriend shouting for you across the room. Flushing in embarrassment and trying to ignore all the heads that turn in your direction at the sudden announcement of your arrival, you reclaim the Easter bread from Jongin’s arm, offering him an appreciative bow. “I’ll catch up with you later. Tell Seoyun I was looking for her.”

At his affirmative smile, you suck in a deep breath before spinning around and maneuvering your way to where Chanyeol and his mother stand by the oven. “I was wondering where you were,” he greets, setting his beer down to take the bread and soju from your hands before squashing your nose in a deep kiss that his mother and family really did not need to see. Blinking at him in surprise, you don’t even bother asking him what the hell that was about and turn toward Mrs. Park instead, who has just finished wiping her hands before opening her arms for you.

“It’s wonderful to see you, love,” she hums when you wholeheartedly accept her embrace, arms coming to wrap around her. “You too, Ma,” pulling back just enough to look at her with a brow raised, “I hope he helped you enough before he started drinking, or do I need to have a talk with him?”

She laughs, plucking up a wooden spoon to stir what looks like kimchi stew. “No, he helped a great deal. Vacuumed before anyone arrived and helped make a few things with his sister,” she explains, gaze lighting up when you pull the pack of glass noodles from the grocery bag. “Oh! Thank you so much, dear. I was so angry when I saw how little was in my bag,” then, turning to yell out over her guests, “Yura! Come finish your japchae!”

“Go grab something to drink, ___. Dinner will be ready in an hour or so, there’s plenty of appetizers out already. Thank you, again,” Mrs. Park grins brightly at you, squeezing your hand before returning to chopping vegetables. Crumbling the plastic grocery bag in your hand, you turn to Chanyeol who appears to be deep in conversation with a couple standing across from him, but you can tell by the way he keeps grazing over the appetizers on the counter next to him and avoiding eye contact that he is in desperate need of an escape. This being said, he still jolts in surprise when you return to his side, one hand curling around his bicep as the other glides down his arm to intertwine your fingers with his. The woman droning on pauses her chatter at this, the corner of her lip twitching up and she takes this as her cue to move on, offering the two of you a wink before dragging her husband, assumingly, out to the back patio.

“Ugh, thank you,” Chanyeol grins once the door shuts behind them, looking down at you with puckered lips, “I missed you.” Snorting, you let go of his arm to move to the now open spot beside him, eyeing all the pickies laid out in front of you. “Was going to make fun of you, but I missed you, too, so it looks like we’re both clowns,” you sigh, grabbing a fork to stab into a slice of mozzarella. Chanyeol stays quiet, opting to fondly watch you instead, smile only growing when you try one of everything. “Oh,” you remember, pausing to swallow the last bit of spicy chicken, “I’m glad you found a jacket. You look great.” You kiss the tips of your fingers, waving them just for emphasis.

Chanyeol’s grin is instantaneous, stretching his arms in front of him and literally checking himself out in front of you. You’re not judging, of course— if you looked half as good as him all the time, you would do the same. Plus, navy does wonders against his skin tone. “Thank you,” arm curling around you, he gives your side an affectionate squeeze, “you don’t look too bad yourself.”

Smiling at his compliment, you continue to make your way through the appetizers. Plucking up a cube of cheese, it isn’t until you have bitten half do you realize your mistake. “Ew,” you cough, sticking your tongue out as if that will rid your taste buds of the sharp provolone flavor. Nose wrinkling, you hold the other half out to him, “Here, you like fancy shit like this.” What you certainly do not expect is for him to go right ahead and bite the cheese straight from your fingers, lips just barely wrapping around your thumb. Despite the way your stomach swoops at the action and the way he stands back to his full height, lids hooded and gaze dark, your first instinct is to look around you, heart racing at the thought of one of Chanyeol’s aunts or uncles watching him eat cheese from between your fingers. Christ, it sounds even worse when you think about it.

Swallowing past the sudden dryness in your throat, you tell yourself you know this dance— you know how to handle Chanyeol just as much as he knows how to handle you. Slowly turning back to him, all you offer is a challenging rise of your brow before reaching for a different cheese, trying to ignore the way your pulse races just by having him close.

As you search for a cracker, perhaps even a pretzel, you see from the corner of your eye how disgruntled he is with your reaction, considering you with a flare of his nostrils and a pout of his bottom lip. Plan B, it is.

Squeezing your side harder, Chanyeol leans in close this time, brushing hair away from your ear with his other hand before whispering, “Nice skirt.” Now, this certainly nurses a much better effect, the richness and deepness of his voice alone dripping like chocolate into the very core of your being. It’s only a two-word compliment, yet you practically choke on your mouthful of food. When he tugs at the hem of the plaid wool skirt you wear, two thoughts momentarily cross your mind: 1) the compliment is nice, especially since you were worried it was a bit shabby looking but 2) he may just be saying that to get a rise out of you.

“Thanks,” you murmur, summoning the courage to slide your palm from the waistband of his slacks, all the way up his chest to finally cup his jaw before standing on your tippy-toes, pushing yourself to meet his ear. The ball is in your court, now. “Bet you’d like it better if it was off, no?”

You don’t miss the way his breath hitches, grip on your waist tugging you closer and you distantly hope it simply looks at if the two of you are deep in conversation. Over cheese and whatnot, of course. “Don’t tempt me, ___,” Chanyeol hisses, “I’ve fucked you with my family just beyond a door, you know I’d gladly take you on the counter right now for everyone to see your pretty pussy.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Alarms. Panic. Shit, now you’re wet. What have you started? Maybe you don’t know how to handle Chanyeol as well as you think— he undoubtedly has your tongue tied now. You can’t even begin to think of a response that doesn’t involve tearing off the lace shirt you spent so long ironing for him to fulfill such an alluring threat. He must feel how you tremble against him, heat burning from the inside out and suddenly he’s withdrawing, regarding you with his own challenging brow raise, eyes dark with hunger as he awaits your response.

“Hey, Chanyeol! Stop hiding ___ from me!”

The relief you feel comes in cooling waves, jerking you out of your trance and you turn just in time to see Seoyun stop in front of you, finger jabbing into Chanyeol’s chest. “Can’t you back off for like, two seconds?” She barks, oblivious to his heavy breaths. Then, pulling Jongin who was hidden behind her to Chanyeol’s side, “You two, meet. Talk. Do the bro thing while I drink some mimosas with my girl.” Oh, good. You sure could use one of those. Or two. Or three.

Chanyeol puts his arms up in defense, glancing at Jongin who only shrugs in identical stupefaction. “Perfect! Okay, see you guys later. Don’t bother us, we have girl things to talk about,” Seoyun threatens, shooting a second cold glare to Chanyeol before softening up and smiling softly. Then, she’s dragging you toward the back door, hardly giving you time to look back at Chanyeol.

When you do, you know that threat won’t be forgotten easily.

After ‘dinner’ sometime around three-thirty, the hours start to blend together, four turning to six, and then all of a sudden, it’s eight o’clock. Family gatherings seemingly always go like this—when you were kids, this was time spent running around outside, about the house, playing games or opening presents (depending on the occasion). Now, this is when things mellow down; from chugging mimosas with Seoyun in the backyard, you now opt for wine, just to seem sophisticated, and the atmosphere is much calmer. Peak adulting, right here.

While many family and friends leave once the post-dinner sleepiness fades, close relatives remain, gathering together and using the time to share stories and life updates. These are always your favorite times with the Parks. And even though Chanyeol is on probation, sitting on another sofa across the room for the stunt he pulled earlier—no, the other stunt, where he held your thigh during dinner but kept inching up until his fingers brushed along your panties when his aunt was sitting right next to you—tonight, in particular, has been one of the best nights spent with your second family.

Every so often, usually when you are PMSing, a dreadful thought enters your mind and always returns whenever you are with Chanyeol’s family: you love them just as much as you love him. It was Seoyun, not Chanyeol, who introduced you to them first, and you have spent more than a decade growing up with them. It goes without explanation that you consider them as your own family now, too. So, what if you and Chanyeol broke up? You are an adult now, so it’s not like Seoyun would ask you to join her for the company like she had when you were kids, and it wouldn’t make sense for Chanyeol’s parents or aunts and uncles or grandparents to invite you… You would not only lose Chanyeol, but your family, too, and that’s enough to make any grown woman cry.

So, looking around the living room full of many people you have grown to love, you try to make the best of it. Not that you think you and Chanyeol are going to break up, no, but it is an inescapable fear that you will never be able to simply ignore.

But you can brush it aside for right now, at least— especially when you are curled into Mrs. Park’s side with Seoyun’s head on your lap.

“Are you guys gonna get married?” Your best friend asks, completely out of the blue. You just finished ranking your favorite teas, now we’re talking about marriage? “Um,” you cough, glancing up to Ma for help but she’s looking at you with an identical expectant rise of her brows. Must be a Park thing. Christ, what is this, the girl’s gossip table in fourth period lunch? Still… are you going to get married? You can’t necessarily answer that on your own. You have no idea what Chanyeol is planning for his future, sure, you’d like to get married, but you are also not in any rush, and—

“Yes,” is what you say, before your mind has even caught up. “Wait!” You quickly add on, smacking a palm to your forehead. Then, “Yes… I’d like to get married. But I don’t know if he wants to, and even if he does, we’re in no rush, he’s been busy producing and…” Trailing off, your gaze has somehow wound up to the ceiling, and when you glance back to them, their features have noticeably softened, eyes glossy with joy.

“I love him, a lot,” you say, quieter, gentler this time, zoning in on Chanyeol across the room and his pretty smile and the way the whole room seems to light up when he laughs. “If he wants to get married, I’ll marry him. And if he doesn’t… well, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait forever, for him.”

“My boy is more than in love with you, ___. You’re his whole world,” Mrs. Park says and when you tilt your head up at her, the look in her eyes suddenly makes you want to cry. Again. It’s from the wine, you tell yourself. “If he doesn’t put a ring on it soon, I’m gonna fuck his shit up,” Seoyun snaps, the alcohol in her system clearly doing the talking here as she stares absentmindedly up at the popcorn ceiling. Laughing, you slap a hand over your mouth, expecting Ma to reprimand her niece for such language in front of her. Instead, she joins in and soon enough, the combined laughter from the three of you has all of your earlier worries washed away.

“What’s so funny, ladies?” It’s Mr. Park here to interrupt this time, an amused smile forcing a dimple in his left cheek. “Ah, nothing, honey,” Ma coughs out one last giggle before reaching for her husband’s hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze. “Just making fun of Yeol.”

“Oh, my favorite. What did he do this time?”

“He hasn’t asked ___ to marry him yet,” Seoyun pipes up from your lap, head tilting further back so she can look at her uncle.

“Why do I keep hearing my name over there?” Chanyeol shouts, leaning up far too quickly from his relaxed position and you can tell by the way his head bobbles that he has had one too many drinks with his uncles and cousins. Looks like you better slow down if you want to get home safely. “Because you’re paranoid!” You shout back, scrunching your nose at him because you know he knows you’re right. Frowning, he motions with two fingers that he will be watching you before returning to his own conversation.

“So, you met Jongin,” Seoyun starts once Mr. and Mrs. Park have fallen into a separate discussion beside you. You’ve had this conversation twice, already, but you don’t mind having it again.

“I have,” you hum, softly adjusting the weight of her head on your thighs so you can sit more comfortably, “I can’t believe you guys have been friends since university and this is the first time I’m meeting him.”

“Well… it’s not like we hung out all that much. We haven’t been in touch for a while,” Seoyun mumbles, eyelids fluttering closed once you begin combing through her hair.

“I refuse to believe that. There’s no way you would have given up a man that good-looking.”

“Hey!” She grumbles, smacking your knee. “He was abroad senior year! And then life just kind of took over. He had a girlfriend for a while after graduation, too. We only started talking again when I bumped into him in Target last year.”

“Mhm, sure,” you hum, looking up to find him. Your heart does somersaults once you find him seated on the same sofa as Chanyeol, cool as a cucumber compared to how overwhelmed he seemed earlier. “I’m happy he seems so comfortable with the family. I’m happy for you, too.”

The playful gleam in her eyes softens as she leans up, sitting up to face you properly. Then, squeezing your hands, “I’m happy, too. Ever since you and Chanyeol started dating… I wanted what you had so, so bad. And I know we’ve only been together for five months, but I’ve never been so happy with someone.”

“Do you love him?” You whisper, searching her face when she turns to look at Jongin across the room. You can see it— the look in her eyes, the complete and utter adoration and admiration. You see it because you’ve felt it, too. You’ve felt it looking at Chanyeol, and you’ve felt it when he looks at you.

“I do. I love him a lot, actually,” Seoyun finally admits, turning back to you and for the first time in years, you see genuine tears trail down her cheeks. “Oh, no,” you hush, dabbing under her eyes to make sure her mascara doesn’t run, “shh, don’t cry. I know they’re happy tears but your makeup looks too good for that.” Pulling her into a hug, you cradle her head into your shoulder and hope no one is looking at her strangely.

“I know,” Seoyun hiccups, squeezing you tightly, “I’m just so drunk and happy for you and for me, I couldn’t help it.”

Laughing, you push her back before cupping her cheeks, wiping at the stray tears. “It’s alright. Crying when you’re happy is a good thing. It means you’re doing something right, Seoyun.” Smiling despite the wetness of her cheeks, she straightens up, dabbing away tears under her chin before cupping your face as well. “Thank you for being such an amazing best friend all these years,” Seoyun says, reaching forward and planting a hefty kiss to your lips, “but I think it’s time for us to go home. Show Jongin how much I really love him.”

When she stands, you’re still trying to process the unexpected kiss she just gave you but brush it aside for now, considering you’ve kissed plenty of times in your years of friendship. “Alright,” standing up after her, you give her one last hug, “text me when you get home.”

“I will. You have a good night too, ___. Chanyeol’s been eating you up alive for the past hour,” winking, Seoyun finally turns away to bid her farewells to the rest of her family. Speaking of Chanyeol… you step around Seoyun and make your way toward him, desperately trying to ignore the way his gaze travels slowly up your approaching form.

“Hey,” he greets when you reach him, tugging you by the wrist to sit on his lap. Luckily, the family surrounding him are turned the opposite direction toward the television, leaving your intimacy to go unnoticed. “Hi,” you return, arm draping over his shoulders and fingers burying into his hair. “You ready to head home?” Chanyeol asks, arms wrapping around you to pull you closer so he can nestle into the crook of your shoulder. “I’m ready when you are,” humming, you take to tracing patterns against the skin of his neck, resting your head atop his as your eyelids threaten to flutter shut.

Reaching for your other hand, Chanyeol brings it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “Y’know, nothing makes me happier than seeing you cozied up with my mom.”

“Well, I think she was pretty impressed by our fantastic Easter bread.”

Snorting, he brings his head back to look at you. “It was pretty good,” he agrees. Then, cradling your jaw, “But it’s more than that. Having the two most important women in my life get along so well means so much to me, ___.” Bringing you closer, Chanyeol finally kisses you, soft and slow and when your eyes close, you feel right back at home, warm all over and overflowing with ardor. “Come on,” nuzzling the tip of your nose with his, “finish your drink and then let’s go home.”

“We need to plan things more often. Mom and I want to see you more than once a month,” was the last thing Mr. Park said to you before you left for the night.

“I love you very much, sweetie. Keep in touch,” Ma had whispered in your ear as you hugged her goodbye.

This is all you can think about as you drive home. Chanyeol was much drunker than he led on, so with him knocked out in the passenger seat, head against the window, you’re left to your own thoughts. The soft lo-fi Chanyeol begged to put on the radio before he passed out doesn’t help, either, but the overall peace and quiet is enough to have you dwelling over your night.

This week leading up to Easter has been especially rainy, too, and even now as you lower the cruise control to sixty-five, hazy rain begins to set on the windshield. Switching on the wipers, you steal a quick glance to Chanyeol who stirs once you move back into the middle lane. And as much as you want to reach over and hold his hand, you don’t want to disturb him.

Maybe it has to do with all the time spent catching up with Seoyun, but you’re left in an overly nostalgic, sentimental mood.

There was quite a lot of talk about love tonight. What Mrs. Park and Seoyun dumped on you about marriage certainly threw you off. Sure, you definitely have imagined marriage and Chanyeol in the same picture, but it was never a topic either of you openly discussed. It just never came up. Despite the fact you have been dating for over two years, sometimes it feels as if you’re still in the honeymoon stage with how perfect things have been. You’ve had your fair share of fights, sure, but nothing ever large enough to have you questioning your relationship. Your mother always told you living together, managing finances together, and raising a child together (Toben) is the true test of love.

But you and Chanyeol have done all that already. You’ve been living together for quite some time, and there’s nothing he does that makes you want to rip your hair out like some couples seem to experience. And, while he does tease you over little habits, he has never mentioned something that seriously infuriates him, either. The two of you share everything at this point, and you can’t imagine marriage seriously making all that of a difference.

Just the life-long commitment.

But when you look at him now, you realize there is no other way you would want to live out the rest of your life. You can’t imagine ever finding someone after Chanyeol, someone you could possibly love more— as you’ve said from the get-go, it’s always been him. From the time you first thought he was cute in sixth grade, to senior year when you realized you loved him, to Christmas two years ago, to now, there’s no one else you would or could ever devote yourself to.

It’s always been him, and it will be forever.

“Chanyeol,” you whisper, then, realizing such gentleness will not wake the giant, you reach over to pat his thigh. “Chanyeol, we’re almost home.”

Chanyeol grumbles, a deep, growling noise that supports just how far gone he is. “What time is it?” He asks groggily, stretching his long limbs and cracking his neck from side to side. “Almost ten,” you hum in reply, quickly glancing to the time on the dash before taking one last turn onto the street of your apartment complex. It’s strange to see the city so dead on a Sunday night.

“___,” Chanyeol groans somewhere behind you as you hurriedly make your way through the parking lot. It was not this cold earlier. “Why are you walking so fast? I thought heels made people slow.” Stopping, you look down to your high boots, realizing that in your rush to get inside you had not even realized just how sore the bottom of your feet are. “I’m cold,” you whine back, bouncing on your toes and crossing your arms in an attempt to contain some body heat as Chanyeol sluggishly makes his way toward you. Maybe if you hold his hand or something he’ll move quicker.

“Come on,” you mumble, intertwining your fingers with his and tugging him along.

You don’t get there any quicker.

You barely manage to open the door with the way Chanyeol clings, hugging from behind and nearly tripping you with those clumsy feet of his. “Chanyeol,” you whine for at least the fifth time, borderline annoyed but watching him scowl at the eight stairs he has to climb like they’re some sort of math problem is quite amusing. “Come on, you big baby,” you decide to meet him halfway, reaching out for his hand and hauling him up with you. When you finally make it to the top, he’s reduced you to a giggling mess and uses it to his advantage, pushing you toward the wall.

“I’m not a baby,” he huffs, breath heavy with the amount of effort he just had to exert. “Yes, you are. C’mon, when we get inside, I’ll swaddle you in your favorite blankie and read you a bedtime story,” you taunt. Still, you find yourself spreading your legs just a tad wider for him to slot his thigh in between, his nostrils flared and frown deep as he towers over you, caging you in.

He chooses not to verbally reply. Instead, one rough hand anchors itself to your waist while the other slides to cup the side of your neck, thumb tilting your chin up to meet him. No matter how much alcohol may run in your systems, kissing Chanyeol will always be the one constant neither of you could ever miscalculate. It simply is an all too familiar doing, one you’ve spent days and weeks and months practicing until it became a subconscious reaction. It is a beginning and an end, your unraveling and your reawakening, an elixir that creeps its way into the very marrow of your bones and blossoms like a spring flower in your lungs.

You intended to string him along until sobriety finally brought him to his senses, but you think this is manageable, something to tease and dangle over his head before deserting him despite the way every fiber of your being craves for him. You can picture it— the confused anger flashing in his eyes when you push him away to continue down the hallway, fire in his veins dwindling to nothing but embers as you discard him for the third time tonight. And so, you press into him with equal force, desperately clawing to have him closer and swallowing his gasp when your tongue slips past the seam of his lips. Despite the heavy taste of liquor on his tongue, Chanyeol finds this rejuvenating, finally, he has you, fist bunching into the fabric of your shirt as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth. He turns into something fierce, addicted to your taste and your touch when your fingers toy with the tips of his ears before raking through his hair and, suddenly, you feel as if you have lost the upper hand.

The hand cupping your jaw drops, trailing dangerously down the side of your thigh before wrapping around your knee to hike your leg around his hip. It is when he presses into you, growing erection doing nothing against the thick fabric of your skirt but still alarmingly there does the steadfastness of your plan falter, the idea of bunching your skirt up to your waist and letting him fuck you right there at the top of the staircase seeming all too tempting.

When he moves to press a sloppy kiss below your jaw, then on the other side of your neck, it buys you enough time to gather your thoughts. Because even though the nip of his teeth and the warmth of his tongue against your skin has wetness pooling between your thighs, it is not nearly as distracting as his mouth on yours. “Chanyeol,” you gasp still, fingers digging into his arms to ground yourself. He merely hums in reply, kissing his way down the column of your throat as he gives your right breast a firm squeeze. Your head thuds against the wall the farther you tilt back, granting him more access and breathing coming in sporadic bursts. It takes quite the strength, but, with the mental image of what’s to come once you actually make it inside encouraging you to do so, you gently push him back at last.

First, worry flashes across his face, suddenly fearing that he has somehow hurt you. But when the side of your mouth ever so slightly tips upward and you step around him to advance further down the hall, there is a mixture of betrayal and frustration flaring in his veins but overpowering desire, too, because he simply loves this game you’ve decided to play.

Racing to unlock your apartment before he can catch up, you excitedly jam the key into the knob just as Chanyeol has reached you, arms circling your waist to spin you around. “You’re driving me crazy,” he groans, guiding you into the apartment and kicking the door closed behind him. As soon as it clicks shut he is back on you, forcing you against the wall because he knows you like it that way, knows you like it rough and knows you like his manhandling. “Yeah?” You ask, though it comes out more like a hiss when he continues his assault on your neck like he never stopped, further bruising the delicate skin there and causing your heart rate to steadily pick up. “How so?”

Ignoring your innocent inquiry, Chanyeol returns to your mouth, tongue battling against your own as he pulls you flush against him, sandwiched between his sturdy chest and the wall. His other hand travels delicately beneath the hem of your shirt, palm burning impossibly warmer against the heat of your skin and it isn’t until he brushes the underwire of your bra does he pull back, satisfied with the way your lips swell. Then, leaning close so his breath fans over your ear, he whispers, “You’ve been rather naughty all night.”

You don’t tremble like he expects you to. You don’t stare back at him with wide, hungry eyes like he expects you to. In fact, you don’t react at all like he expects you to. Instead, you seem to snap out of your lustful daze, eyeing him with a rise of your brow and the straightening of your posture.

“I’ve been naughty?” You scoff, finger jabbing into his chest and, from the total one-eighty in your demeanor alone, Chanyeol stumbles back. “I think you’re mixed up.” Like a puppy desperate for your affection, he cautiously follows you out of the foyer and into the living room.

“I don’t think I was the one who offered to fuck you in front of all your family, or had my hand down your pants during dinner, now, was I?” You sneer at him, struggling to walk to the bedroom while simultaneously zipping down and kicking off your boots. “I—”

Chanyeol begins, taking a hesitant step after you. Beyond the harshness of your words, he knows this is all part of your game, and it’s turning him on more than he’d like to admit, especially when you won’t let him touch you. “No,” you cut him off, standing in the doorway and watching with a stifled smile as he slowly edges closer, “you, sir, need to drink some water before coming any closer. Sober up, think about what you did tonight, and maybe I’ll consider forgetting it happened.” “___,” Chanyeol whines and you almost expect him to stomp his feet like a child, “you’re killing me.”

“Good. Now you know how I’ve felt all night,” flicking the light on, you set your boots down by the closet and keep your eyes trained on him, assuring he stays put, “go on, then. Don’t look so sad, water’s in the kitchen. I need to wash up.” And with that, you retreat into the bathroom, locking the door behind you and trying to erase Chanyeol’s pout from your mind.

In all seriousness— you really do want to wash your face. The thought of having to get up later or even falling asleep with makeup on makes you shudder, and so, you take your grand old time treating your skin, just to make him suffer awhile longer. As you are scrubbing your face over the sink, you hear Toben bark, followed by the soft clinking of his leash. Seconds later, the front door opens and slams closed.

Good, you think, feeling triumphant. Patting your face dry with a towel, you give yourself a once over before swiping a cotton round wet with toner over your skin, simultaneously trying to calm your nerves while also conjuring up what is to come.

God, he really has had you riled up since his first words in his parent’s kitchen, you realize with a cringe as you quickly undress, tossing your clothes into the hamper. Slipping into your simple bathrobe, you turn the overhead lights off in favor of the much softer bedside lamp before flopping belly side down on your bed. Instantaneously, images of Chanyeol flash into your mind, first, simply how godly he looked tonight, tall and lean and yours, then, the look in his eyes when he whispered about fucking you in the kitchen, and later, the teasing drag of his fingers against your panties. All of a sudden, you feel inflamed with desire, clenching around nothing at the thought of such long fingers burying inside of you.

Breathless, you reach for your phone, desperate for a distraction. Seoyun, you remember, clicking on her text from earlier confirming she was home. Sending a few hearts back, you have just opened Instagram and liked a studio picture from Jongdae when the front door opens, Toben’s yapping signaling for a new swarm of butterflies in your gut. Outside of the bedroom walls, you hear Chanyeol’s shoes clunk against the wall as he chucks them off, Toben’s leash unhooking, the living room lights being flicked off. Then, the steady footsteps as he nears your room.

“Can I come in?” He asks from the doorway, the rumble of his voice making a home in your heart.

Chuckling, you turn to look over your shoulder at him. “Yes.”

Stretching to plug your phone in on the table, you realize he’s still playing it careful, managing to only close the door behind him and set a bottle of water on the dresser. “Come here,” you invite at his lack of an advance. He seems startled, an internal battle raging in his heart as he wants nothing more than to jump into bed beside you, but also fears that you will string him along once more. So, he approaches slowly, choosing to sit by the foot of the bed and refusing to look at you, instead leaning over to yank his socks off.

Suppressing a grumble of protest at his distance, you struggle to sit back on your haunches, fingers moving to quickly untie the front of your robe. Chanyeol visibly relaxes as you make your way over, scooting further back to allow more space when you swing one leg across his lap in order to settle on his thighs. His Adam’s apple bops seeing you are totally bare, robe just barely covering your breasts. Avoiding eye contact just yet, you lean forward, pressing a delicate kiss below his ear and humming in appreciation when he tilts his head for you.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper after having your own turn of marking his soft skin, palms sliding over his chest to push his jacket from his shoulders, no matter how alluring he looks in it. “To be completely honest, I really just wanted to wash my face.” Furrowing your eyebrows in concentration, you make slow work at the buttons of his shirt next. “And,” you add, lowering the volume of your voice as if telling a secret only he’s allowed to hear, “I wasn’t in the mood for drunk sex. I’ve been wet for you since four o’clock. I wanted to savor tonight, yeah?”

Once you’ve popped the last button open, pushed the soft fabric from his shoulders and littered his exposed skin with soft kisses, you finally lift your gaze to his face, heart nearly stopping beneath the darkening of his stare. Just like that, Chanyeol sees it as his cue to take over, pouncing like a cat on its prey, opening your mouth with his own and bringing you closer with a firm grip on your ass. “I should have just fucked you when I had the chance,” he practically growls, pulling his arms out from his shirt and jacket and pushing the robe from your shoulders, hands cold from being outside and summoning goosebumps to rise along your skin.

One such hand slides up your spine before wrapping around your nape to tilt you back, body curved to give him room to duck down and kiss along your collarbones, sucking harshly at your skin to assure deep purple marks by morning before enveloping a nipple between his teeth. “Ah,” you hiss, nails digging crescents into his arms as you grind down on him, “I wouldn’t have been able to look your parents in the eyes if you did,” then, choking on a moan as he rolls your other hardened bud between his calloused fingers, “plus, I still would have been thinking about your fingers all night.”

Chanyeol groans, releasing your nipple with a soft pop. “My fingers, huh? What about them?” He hums with faux innocence, securing a grip on your thighs before flipping you onto your back in order to hover above you. He doesn’t let you reply, however, latching his lips to yours and quite literally sucking all the air from your lungs with the way his tongue wraps around your own. “Yes,” you huff when he pulls back, fingers threading through pink hair and hips rising to brush against his when he begins his journey downward, “thinking about them stuffed inside me and— and then,” you stutter, back arching as he kisses his way straight down the column of your throat, the valley between your breasts, the swell of your stomach, simply sucking at the same marks he made yesterday, “and then, your dick.”

“See,” Chanyeol mutters with a click of his tongue, hooking his fingers around the waistband of your underwear and shimmying them down your legs, “I know how dirty you are.”

“Yes,” you whimper, spreading your legs for him as he throws one over his shoulder, “you make my life really difficult like that.”

“I know, baby,” he hums, then, watching with a smirk as you jolt with him blowing cool air directly to your clit, “I always make it up to you, though.”

There simply is not enough time to think of a reply before Chanyeol has his mouth directly where you need him, flattening his tongue against your slit and licking upward, drawing a wanton moan deep from your throat. Relief, finally. Any witty reply quickly wiped from your brain, all you can focus on now is the warmth and wetness of his tongue, circling your clit before dipping between your folds.

“Chanyeol,” you rasp, one hand anchored into the comforter and the other clutching his hair to contain the way you quiver, “please.”

He hums, the vibration strumming right against you and winching the knot forming in your abdomen impossibly tighter. “Please what?”

“Fingers,” is all you manage to get out, seeing stars with the way he sucks at your clit. He wastes no time contemplating your helpless gasp, immediately shifting his position in order to grant such a wish. In fact, he wastes no time easing into things, either, pushing two fingers into your seeping cunt without so much as a warning. It tears a shaky moan from you, nerves aflame with the new but oh so welcome intrusion.

“Christ, ___,” Chanyeol hisses, immediately adding a third finger and pausing to watch his digits sink in to the knuckles, “your tight little cunt is practically sucking me in.” A shaking and gasping mess, all you can offer is a breathless yes, walls clenching in need of more friction. Sensing this, Chanyeol gets right back to work, hand rocking against you, fingers dragging in and out, rubbing upward and against that hidden gem of a spot. “Oh, God,” you keen, thighs reflexively squeezing the sides of his head when he swirls his tongue over your clit in all sorts of shapeless patterns before tightly sucking at it once more.

“That’s it, baby,” Chanyeol soothes as he forces your legs apart, eyes glued on the mess he’s made, juices smeared even at your thighs with the way his fingers curl into you before nearly pulling out entirely. “So greedy.”

“Chanyeol,” you whine, hips raising to follow the movements of his tongue when he returns to your clit, “so close.”

“Mhm,” he groans against you, insistently flicking at the bundle of nerves and adding his pinky finger to the stretch. Chanyeol relishes in the way you practically swell beneath him, nails scratching against his scalp at the addition and the way he scissors his fingers. It is with one last upward curl and draw of your clit between his lips does your orgasm hit you, an intense wave of heat that has you arching into him and red speckling your vision— even though your eyes are screwed shut. It takes several moments to come down from the high, core throbbing in the aftermath and nerves seemingly frayed at the force of it all.

And yet, he has not stopped.

“Chanyeol,” you gasp, voice taut as a result of your previous silent scream, “f-fuck. Christ, I can’t.”

Chanyeol only hums in reply, a mere dismissal as he knows you can handle it and is more than happy to continue. Pulling his fingers from your soaking cunt with a lewd squelch, he grasps your thighs and spreads them further, lapping hungrily at the messy aftermath of your orgasm. Ignoring the way your body shakes and the powerless mewls escaping your lips, Chanyeol continues right where he left off, this time, however, with his tongue stroking gently between your folds and his thumb drawing soft circles over the hood of your clit.

Given no time to settle, the inferno blazing within you quickly roars back to life once the near-painful sensitivity fades, leaving you subject to the overpowering pleasure pumping through your veins. “God, Chanyeol,” you whine, loosening your grasp on his hair once you realize the iron grip you were holding for the entirety of your climax, “f-fuck, you’re killing me.”

Smiling against you, Chanyeol begins to feel impatient, the restriction on his erection borderline painful. This being said, he picks up his tempo once more, one hand keeping your hips down while the other spreads open your folds, giving him unhindered accuracy to press his tongue against your clit, draw circles, triangles, figure-eights— before you’re coming undone in no time.

Biting your bottom lip to taper the near scream that threatens to tear from your throat, you have no choice with the way Chanyeol holds you down but to fall face-first into your climax, tumbling over the edge at an alarmingly fast rate. Your second orgasm comes much easier and much quicker, body still recovering from the first, and it leaves you simultaneously jerking away but locking him in. Chanyeol is just that good.

It almost feels as if you are floating through clouds as you come back to reality and part of you wonders if that orgasm lasted a few seconds or an hour. You can’t tell. But coming back down brings an onslaught of sensations; first, the complete and total mess in between your legs, the result of two orgasms sticking to your thighs like syrup. Second, the soothing massage Chanyeol rubs into your thighs and hips, fingers digging deep into your muscle and aiding in your return from Heaven, you think.

And third: Chanyeol still has his pants on.

“How are you?” He asks, lips curled into a smirk because he knows how good it was, but likes the validation. When all you offer is a small noise of protest, Chanyeol understands this to be your wordless way of asking him to come up, and he does so immediately. “I think I just saw God,” you say once he’s settled on his side next to you, cringing at the coarseness of your voice. With a dreamy sigh you smooth over his pectoral, the dip of his collarbone, the protruding tendon on his neck, before cradling his jaw and leaning over to press your lips to his.

Slow to start, you take ample time simply to savor him, the taste of you, and to show your appreciation for not one, but two orgasms. A renewed sense of urgency, however, appears to take over, and you suck in a heavy breath through your nose when Chanyeol pushes himself to hover above you, hand wrapping around your knee to throw your leg over his hip. Palms deserting their spot beneath his ears, you quickly make work to the button of his pants.

“Goddammit,” you hiss after several unsuccessful attempts, growing just as impatient as he and pulling back to focus on such button, then the zipper, “I hate buttons.” Laughing, Chanyeol leans up to tug his pants and boxers down his thighs, cock springing free against the toned panes of his stomach. “I can tell. Patience is a virtue, you know?” He teases, settling more comfortably between your spread legs and kicking the last of his clothes to the floor.

“Don’t you dare try talking to me about virtue when all I can think about is you rearranging my guts,” you grumble, eyes screwing shut and missing the way his eyes darken when he presses the head of his cock against your clit. “Purity is a virtue, too,” Chanyeol continues to tease, finally angling to your entrance and just barely pressing in, “I don’t think God would be too happy with that mouth of yours.”

“Please shut the fuck up and— ohh, shit,” before you can finish your sentence, Chanyeol has finally rolled forward, dragging past your walls and filling you to the brim in one flawless push. Then, once you have adjusted to the forever startling swell of his cock within you, “We can go to confession after you’ve fucked me.”

Chanyeol lets out a noise somewhere in between an amused snort and a groan, mind effectively having already gone off the deep end and focusing on the tightness of your slick cunt and that alone. “God, ___,” he hisses, drawing back to leave only a lonely inch within you before thrusting forward again, drawing a series of moans from your lips, “never get enough of your tight little pussy.”

“Uh-huh,” is all you manage, struggling to soundly wrap your legs around him with all your muscles reduced to jelly with him filling you so deliciously with every thrust. With the fire in your stomach roaring to life and consuming you whole once more, you will yourself not to come so soon, attempting to open your eyes after several futile blinks and focus on him. Perhaps this is not the best thing to do, however, considering the image of him glowing with a sheen of sweat, eyebrows furrowed, face flushed and hooded eyes boring holes into you only prompts you to tighten around him and ‘squeaking noises’ he always likes to tease you about to slip past your lips.

“God,” you whine, leaning up and placing a desperate kiss to his top lip but flopping back down at the uncomfortable angle, “God, I love you.” Chanyeol visibly softens at this, the sharp snapping in and out of you slowing into deeper, more languid strokes. “I love you more,” he sighs, brushing away hair that has stuck to your sticky skin before kissing you properly. There’s something different about this kiss— for you, at least. Perhaps it has to do with all the talk and sentiment of the night, but a feeling beyond your every day, established love seems to wash over you.

It leaves you gasping and licking into his mouth, desperately trying to cling to the feeling, to put a word to it until finally, you realize, it’s always been here and will forever stay. It seems to resonate in your core, not physically but in your soul, something beyond logic and more of an opening of a door to tranquil waters. It leaves you lightheaded, the staccato of his heart pressed against your skin and the connection of your bodies the only things keeping you grounded because this feeling, this overwhelming, beautiful feeling makes it seem as if you are the center of the universe, just as Chanyeol is the center of yours.

“I’m close,” he hisses, two simple words breaking into your satori and hurling you back into the euphoria that fizzes up your spine and fills your bones. “Me too,” you gasp, breathless from the loaded emotion heavy on your mind and your heart and the quickening of his cock, brushing at the deepest part within at every stroke. It has your head falling back, eyes rolling and back arching when you squeeze around him, muscles contracting with such overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins like electric waves.

“I love you,” you repeat when you fall into your third orgasm, eyes squeezing shut despite your best efforts at keeping them open in order to watch as Chanyeol, too, reaches his high and comes into you with a harsh stutter and load groan. It simply is so powerful you practically feel as if you have just been brought back from the dead, body bucking beneath him like a whip as the toe-curling feeling explodes within you like a firework show. Chanyeol seems to share in such experience, usually not the most vocal but he can’t seem to keep to labored breathing, biting into your shoulder as his seed comes in hot spurts inside of you. You say it every time, but this, truthfully, was the best orgasm of your life.

It takes several moments, minutes, even, to come down from your highs, bodies seemingly in overdrive with such a feeling warming you from your head to your toes. But, just as all good things come to an end, you eventually force your eyes open once you’ve gotten over feeling as if you might pop, blinking past the tears that at some point accumulated. Chanyeol has his forehead rested against your shoulder, heavy inhales and exhales slowly calming as his heart, too, returns to its normal beat. It isn’t until you raise a weak hand to stroke his hair does he tilt his head to look at you, eyes shining like stars with the tired smile he gives you.

Brushing mused pink bangs from his eyes, you crane your neck to kiss his forehead, his nose, and finally his lips before letting your head fall back with a sigh. He returns your affection with a gentle kiss to your shoulder, shakily leaning up to pull his now flaccid cock out of your raw cunt. He’s quick to move, however, fingers coming to press against your folds as if to plug any of his cum from leaking out. You twitch, still way too sensitive and you mentally cringe at the thought of going again— to be frank, you’re pooped.

Still, you lie there quietly, body cooling down as Chanyeol continues to stare as if daring your cunt to let any of his seed slip. After a few more silent moments of this, however, you force yourself to lean up, knowing if you stay like that for any longer, you’d be asleep in minutes. Chanyeol lets out a quiet grunt of protest as such movement causes the smallest gush, fingers swiping against your folds to collect your mixed cum before pushing it back in with the gentlest touch. You sigh at the feeling, clutching at his arm and suddenly, a part of you wishes you weren’t on birth control.

“I felt you,” Chanyeol finally says, voice tight as if he hasn’t used it in years. Such an ambiguous statement, but fortunately, you know what he means without needing him to explain it. You only nod at first, searching his face and finding only the utmost truth. With a gentle hand tracing his jaw, you move in closer to press a soft kiss to his lips before curling into his side. “And I felt you.”

Chanyeol thinks he would look ‘strikingly handsome’ with pink hair, wearing his blue contacts and his baby blue tie.

You think he would look just as handsome as a brunette, without the contacts, and a matching grey bow tie.

Chanyeol thinks you’re lame and just petty because you wouldn’t be able to tie his tie when he gets dressed.

However, with blonde hair slicked back, just his prescription contacts, and baby blue tie, he also happens to think you are strikingly beautiful walking up the aisle. So much so, by the time you are there in front of him, he already has tears streaming down his face.

With your hands in his, you think this kind of love lasts forever.

635 notes · View notes

theatresweetheart · 4 years

Text

A Dragon’s Prince | 2

Part One

Warnings: Swearing, blood, injuries, fear, anxious thoughts, arguing.

Pairings: Platonic Prinxiety

Characters: Virgil, Roman

Word count: 5002 words

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A‌ few days had passed. They had remained just as uneventful as the first one had been and Virgil watched sunset after sunset. Each and every day that brought those fading hues across the sky chipped away a little more of his resolve.

Life in the cave wasn’t…bad, necessarily. It was far from easy and certainly far from comfortable, but he was still alive, so that counted for something.

Of course, he’d still tried to escape when the dragon’s back was turned, but each attempt gifted the same response. He was snagged by the back of his tunic, hefted up and carried right back over toward the dragon’s bed. Once there, he was kept pinned in place until he quit fighting. It never took long before Virgil tired himself out and eventually ended up giving in.

The dragon was never too bothered to feel the prince’s struggles cease.

There was almost always a content rumble that followed Virgil’s relaxing. A thrum that hummed through him. The prince was left to guess that it was a soothing mechanism that the dragon would use on unruly or frightened young.

It was a demeaning thought– being treated as no better than a hatchling but, again, Virgil had to remind himself that he was indeed still alive.

The feeling of cool hard metal in his hand brought him back to the present. He was sitting back against the stone wall of the cave, idly tossing a few golden coins up in the air. He flicked his wrist, watching silently amused at the glittering pieces before catching them swiftly and tossing them up again. It was the most entertaining thing he had.

The dragon was nestled close by, eyes watching the human lazily as he amused himself. It was more of a curious glance than anything serious.

The longer the dragon looked, the more uncomfortable Virgil got.

“What?”‌ He finally snapped, turning to face the great crimson lizard, the gentle clattering of coins stilled as he held them.

The dragon only tilted its head at him, seemingly asking what the problem was.

Virgil rolled his eyes, letting his head thump against the stone wall. “I’m not going to run away,” he said sharply, before throwing a hand out in the direction of the cave’s entrance—where the dragon had not-so-subtly positioned itself in front of, just so the prince wouldn’t be able to make a break for it without having to go around the beast itself. “You’re right in my way and, believe it or not, I‌ don’t have a death wish.”

He tossed the coins up again, listening to the gold clink together. The fading colours from outside danced off the hoard. It was just another day where Virgil remained captive without the knights rescuing him.

No, he didn’t need some strong man to walk in sword-a-swinging to save him, he could save himself. This situation just made saving himself increasingly difficult.

The dragon huffed at him, looking rather distraught.

“Do you want something from me?” The prince snipped, bitterness raising in the back of his throat. He side-glanced the dragon as it crept the slightest bit closer to him. “If you want riches and gold and glittering jewels, I‌ can’t give you that.” Not here at least. He took a breath. “Look, you seem, ah, decent. Maybe even decent enough to return me home?”

The dragon—as it had softened the slightest bit—instantly shut down and snorted at him.

Hot air brushed Virgil’s dark bangs back and he sneered.‌ “Well,”‌ he said, his tone lacked mirth and amusement, “it was worth a shot, wasn’t it?”

The dragon rolled its eyes, shifting to lean back on its forearms. They were both surrounded by the soft sounds of gold clinking again as Virgil resumed tossing the coins up and down.

That relative silence was quickly broken by the prince’s stomach growling.

Pink immediately rushed to his cheeks and Virgil could feel heat creeping up the back of his neck. The dragon’s ears twitched and it lifted its head again, watching Virgil wrap his arms around his midsection, stifling the sounds.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he was embarrassed, he just was.

He turned his attention away from the dragon watching him intently now. However, that only lasted for so long. The dragon made a soft humming noise, wanting to get the prince’s attention. It succeeded after a moment, but mostly because the constant noise was annoying.

“I’m just a bit hungry,” he admitted, red dotting his face. “That’s all, it’s not a big deal.”

The dragon pushed up so it was sitting back on its hind legs. It turned around, looking over its shoulder toward the mouth of the cave. It almost seemed to be debating whether or not it should just go and get something to eat anyway. Virgil could almost see the cogs working in its head, before the dragon turned back to look at him skeptically.

It almost felt like he was being accused of faking.

“If you’re thinking about leaving me here while you go hunting,” Virgil said slowly, watching the dragon’s expressions to the best of his ability, “I won’t run.”

The dragon scrunched its snout in disbelief.

Virgil scoffed. “Come on, why would I‌ lie? You could probably literally scent me all over the forest if you tried,” he threw his hands up in exasperation. “But fine, you want to drag me along on your hunting trip and risk me getting hurt? Fine.” The reaction he got from the great beast was exactly what he had thought it would be; a soft whine as it tried to figure out the best solution. Virgil examined his nails, feigning boredom. “It would be all your fault if something happened to me.”

The dragon wasted no time in nabbed Virgil by the back of his tunic—not without a squall of surprise—and the prince was settled back down into the soft cloths and silks on the dragon’s bed. (It had been collected and piled for the prince himself, since gold and old maps weren’t comfortable for a human to sleep on.)

Virgil winced backward slightly as the dragon snarled in a warning at him, those sharp teeth making a threatening reappearance. He easily understood the dragon was telling him that if he tried to escape, the prince would just be hunted down again.

His stomach jumped at the terrifying display, before surprise painted itself across the human’s features as the dragon then pushed itself back up into a stand and stalked toward the entrance of the cave with its shoulders set. It sent a final glance over its shoulder toward the shocked prince before stepping down onto the mountainside, spreading its great wings and taking off into the night.

He sat there for a moment. The silence seemed to echo in the cave like bells and it took a moment, but he understood he was alone.

Alone.

It was the perfect opportunity to make a break for it. Did it matter if Virgil knew where the kingdom was in relative to where he was now?‌ Yes. It definitely did. But getting out of the cave was his first priority and figuring out where he was could wait.

It took no time at all before he was scrambling to his feet, stumbling down off the mount of riches and jogging toward the front of the cave. He paused a moment longer, making sure the dragon hadn’t decided to camp out and wait until Virgil made his escape to show itself again. When the coast was indeed clear, he climbed down the rocky entrance leading up to the cave itself and broke into a dead sprint the minute his boots touched dirt.

He’d never been so relieved to feel dirt again.

Night was falling quicker now, and the trees began to loom with overgrown shadows. He could hear the howling of wolves off in the distance, but it didn’t matter.

Not when he could get home.

A loud, pained and rather shrill cry suddenly bellowed over the air, seeming to shake the very trees around him.

Virgil’s blood ran cold at the sound. He had an itching feeling he knew the owner of that agonized noise.

Don’t, a small voice in his head yearned– pleaded with him, don’t go back. Don’t go and help. If you do, you know the dragon will keep you prisoner longer. You have the chance to go home!

But, another part of him said, a louder part, how will you be able to sleep at night knowing you let the creature suffer in its last moments? You’ll lie awake, haunted by the sounds, knowing that you could have changed its fate.

He turned to look over his shoulder. The sound had been close enough that he could pinpoint the general direction of it. Virgil bit his lip, fighting every urge in his body to bolt again, make a blind beeline into the woods and leave everything that had happened to him in the past.

It would never had to be spoken of. He could just pretend it had never happened in the first place and move on with his life. Get back into the humdrum of his daily life and princely duties.

“You’re fucking insane,”‌ he muttered, hands clenched to his sides.

Needless to say, the prince turned on his heel and went toward the sound.

It took awhile of searching and following. It was a mix between sitting and waiting in silence for the dragon to make another panicked and helpless cry into the night, and following it. Virgil was well aware that there were other creatures out in the forest, creatures willing enough to end the defenseless human prince where he stood.

When he’d stumbled upon the grotto where the dragon was currently hunched over, he ducked behind a tree, heart hammering in his chest. Virgil pressed his head against the bark.

You’re unbelievable. You had the perfect time to escape and look at you now.

He dipped around the tree and into plain sight. The dragon tensed instantly and its head shot up, a snarl already on its features and its eyes narrowed into distrusting slits. If Virgil hadn’t of known the dragon beforehand, he would have been terrified out of his mind at the murderous look. He also knew the beast was frightened, and defending itself by baring its teeth was one of the only things it could do.

Virgil raised his hands in surrender, heart slamming against his rib-cage, half-wondering if he’d made the wrong decision to come back and help. He was relieved when the dragon softened after a moment, taking in who was standing in front of it. It whined at him immediately afterward, shifting its entire body back to show the human prince its limb—which was caught in a series of barbed wires and sharp metal teeth.

Virgil wrinkled his nose.

Bright red blood splattered the area and continually oozed onto the ground into a puddle of crimson that shimmered dully in the cool moonlight. It was disgusting. There was just so much of it.

However, when Virgil tried to take a step toward the wounded appendage, the dragon growled at him.

He kept his hands up and halted in place. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, finding this situation the tiniest bit ironic. At this point, Virgil held all the cards. The dragon couldn’t do anything to him and they both knew it. He was the one that could decide what happened here and the dragon could only put up an angry facade to frighten away wayward travelers. “I‌’m going to help you get the trap off if you’ll allow me.”

The dragon still seemed hesitant. It watched him with keen and careful eyes, before relenting and shifting back a bit more to make its limb accessible.

Virgil approached, still slowly as the dragon was still watching him intently. The limb itself had barbs embedded into it from each and every possible side. It was such a cruel sight.

It was the work of people that wanted to cause misery to the creature they were catching, whether it was something magical and mythical or something real and powerless.

“Hunters,”‌ he mused softly to himself. Though, he must have spoken loud enough for the dragon to hear since it chirped dejectedly at him. Virgil rolled his eyes. “What?‌ I can’t say it wasn’t hunters.” He leaned forward, inspecting the trap a little more thoroughly. “Though, I don’t think you were their intended prey.” He motioned to the trap as an example. “If they wanted to catch a full grown-ass dragon, this would not be the trap to do it.”

The dragon leaned forward and nudged the prince in the back, big eyes blinking at him, almost confused as to why he knew this wouldn’t be the trap to catch something like it in.

“I‌ know what you’re thinking,” he said, reaching forward and letting his fingers drift carefully over the barbs, looking for a weakened spot. “And no, I’ve never caught a dragon before. Hell, you’re the first one I’ve ever seen. My brother has always wanted to see one, you know.” Virgil gave a halfhearted laugh at that. “Though, I don’t think having his little brother kidnapped is exactly what he meant when he said that.”

After struggling for a moment, Virgil found a weakened spot in the barbed wires and tugged. The dragon yipped, and the prince winced from the sheer volume of it. He flinched back a moment as the pale red eyes focused on him as if he’d betrayed the creature.

“Sorry,” he gave an apologetic shrug of his shoulders, “I’ll warn you next time, okay? That way you won’t blow out my eardrums.”

His hands found the same spot he’d just pulled at and grabbed it again. His attention drifted back up to the dragon, making it obvious he was going to pull the trap again and the dragon gave a soft nod, as if telling him to get it over with.

Virgil tugged the wire again, the barbs pulling out further from the dragon’s skin. A loud rumbling sound erupted from behind him, showing the beast’s discomfort without harming the human’s hearing. He tugged harder, seeing the little process they were getting, but the more he yanked, the more the dragon fidgeted at his back.

His hand slid, a stray barb slicing over his palm and cutting it open. Virgil flinched back with a hiss, red painting his hand as blood blossomed through the opening the laceration caused.

He grit his teeth, the stinging almost unbearable. He’d been cut before, but not to this extent. Curling his injured hand back to himself, his eyes roved back to the barbed trap embedded in the dragon’s limb. He was being a wimp, the large creature had it worse then he did. A cut on the hand, so what?‌

“Let’s try this again,” the prince said, moving to get back to the trap when the dragon snarled at him instead, shifting the injured limb away from the small human. “What are you doing? I’m gonna help!”

The dragon growled lowly back at him, but it wasn’t threatening. It was more of a warning. Its eyes flickered down to the blood dripping down Virgil’s hand. His gaze followed the dragon’s and he rolled his eyes.

“I‌ can still help,” he snapped, “it’s just a cut, it’s nothing too bad. Now move and lets get those barbs out of your foreleg.”

The dragon only reciprocated by pulling it further out of the prince’s reach.

Virgil thinned his lips. “Well, what do you suggest we do? Sit here because now we’re both injured and wait for some nice hunters to come back to their trap, kill you and ransom me for money?”

The dragon rumbled something, before snipping back at him as if giving him a sarcastic response. If Virgil had any doubt that the dragon understood human language and tone, this was the last bit of proof he needed.

“This isn’t going to work,” he finally said, settling down against the creature before tearing a strip of his tunic and beginning to tend to the laceration on his palm. He tied it tight enough to help with clotting, even as red kept dotting the cloth, quickly turning it a warm crimson. “I can’t believe I’m even arguing with you!‌ You’re a dragon, you can’t speak to me. Most you can do is answer in sarcastic rumbles. Bare your teeth at me when you’re unhappy— wait.”

After finishing with his makeshift bandage, Virgil let his eyes focus on the barbed wires wrapped around the dragon’s limb. Pulling wasn’t doing much because it was still curled around the entirety of the forearm like a snake would constrict a small animal.

“Your teeth,” Virgil raised himself up into a stand, before pushing the dragon’s snout away from him—an action which earned a displeased rumbling low in the dragon’s throat. “Shut up for a minute and listen to me.”

He knelt down beside the injured limb again and grabbed a hold of the uninjured part to keep the dragon from moving it. Virgil put all of his weight into keeping it steady, even as the large lizard looked down at him with contempt. Of course, even though Virgil was putting everything into keeping it at bay, the dragon could still very easily shake the human off and move on with its day, but he was being listened to.

His hand stung at the movements, but he shifted so he was instead sitting on the forearm instead of leaning on it. “I‌ couldn’t get it all off quick enough because it’s stuck and tied around,” he motioned to the barbed wires winding around the limb with a motion of his uninjured hand. “If you stopped fighting me for once, I can help cut the rest and pull it out afterward. I’m just going to need you to use your teeth.”

The dragon scrunched its snout, shaking its head and focusing its attention on something other than the stubborn prince and the sharp barbs digging into it.

Virgil groaned. “Stop acting like a big whiny overgrown baby, and listen to me.” Insulting the beast probably wasn’t his best idea, but the sharp words got its attention. Virgil slid his hand under the loosened part of the trap before lifting it up enough and holding it out. “Bite through it.”

The dragon gave him a look that practically said ‘you bite through it.’

The human clenched his jaw. “I can’t,” he said in retaliation, “my teeth aren’t sharp enough to bite through wire. If you want to get out, you have to trust me.”

After what seemed like forever, and the great creature debating the prince’s trustworthiness (which was fair enough, Virgil could understand the hesitation when trusting him), the dragon finally relented. It leaned down and opened its jaw enough to bare sharp teeth. Virgil’s heart jumped into his throat, realizing his vulnerable position a heartbeat too late. Just as easily as he had held all the cards, their places were swapped just as quickly.

He held the wire up as far as he could without it tugging painfully on the dragon’s foreleg, and leaned back in precaution. His wrist was thinner than a lot of those sharp teeth and, if the dragon so wished, could take his hand off without a single thought. However, the dragon took the wire impossibly gently and without taking his hand off, too. Relieved, the prince watched as the wire snapped like thread between those powerful jaws.

The wire loosened around the rest of the limb slightly in response. Feeling as if they were finally getting somewhere, Virgil fingered around more of the wire and found another place that was loose enough to lift.

They repeated the motions a couple more times, before the wires were loose enough to tug on. It was still going to be painful for the dragon, since he needed to get the barbs out, but after that, they would be home free.

Standing up, Virgil circled around the injury before accepting the loosened wire into his uninjured hand. “This is going to hurt,” he told the dragon, watching its expression. After a moment, he received another nod of approval.

As soon as he had gotten the go ahead, Virgil pulled on the wire as hard as he could. The dragon’s claws dug into the ground surrounding it. The prince had to lean most of his weight into getting it to finally budge, but after a few more agonizing moments of yanking, the barbs finally came loose with a wet shlup.

The prince gasped in surprise, tripping backward just as the dragon yelped, loudly vocalizing its pain once more. Virgil braced against the ground, protecting his injured hand by curling it into his chest. He hit the ground hard enough that his elbow stung, his shoulder ached and his ears rang.

The discarded wire trap laid off to the side, covered in fresh and dry blood, showing how much time they had spent trying to find a way out of it. His gaze shifted as the dragon pushed itself into a stand, great red wings spreading out wide enough to hide the night sky. The dragon tentatively tested its hurt limb before focusing its attention on the prince on the ground.

Virgil had almost forgotten how big and intimidating the creature could be. The initial terror he had felt at being kidnapped rushed back when it began to limp over to him, only to loom over the human, absolutely swallowing him in its shadow.

He felt the beginning of panic raising in his chest, worried that the dragon was upset with him. To be fair, the only reason Virgil was even able to help was because he had been planning to escape. He was sure the dragon knew that and had possibly been waiting for the best time to retaliate.

When the dragon leaned down, Virgil twitched away from it on instinct, turning his head away just in case it was preparing itself to injure him further. He was genuinely surprised when nothing happened. Was he not going to be punished for his escape attempt?

Instead, the dragon only trilled at him, a soft chirping sound showing true concern.

Virgil’s shoulders relaxed after a moment, more so when the dragon nudged him gently with its snout, prompting the prince to look at it with wide eyes. “You’re… not upset I‌ tried to leave?”

The dragon gave him a forlorn look, but it didn’t seem angry. It shook its head in answer, before leaning down and so very carefully nudging at the prince’s hand—the one wrapped in makeshift and bloody bandages. In all honesty, Virgil had forgotten he was hurt in the blind terror he was going to be hurt worse.

He held up the injured appendage, looking at it briefly as if it held any answers, before sighing in surrender. “You have cloth in your hoard, right?” He said, the dragon looking somewhat surprised at the question, before nodding its head in answer. The prince smiled mirthlessly. “Good,” he then said, moving so he was sitting up in a cross-legged position, his hands resting on his knees. “I’m going to need it. Besides, we should probably bandage you as well.”

The look he was getting wasn’t exactly something Virgil had expected, but it did surprise him. The dragon almost looked apologetic, in its own way, as if trying to express its feelings without being able to form human sentences. At least, human enough for Virgil to understand. He could pick up on hints, but sometimes being verbally told something was nicer than guessing for himself. It was all just one big guessing game with the fire breathing creature.

“What?” He finally said. “It’s not like you can do it yourself. Your big nose would get in the way.”

The dragon snorted at him, as if offended. However, that little jab didn’t hold the dragon’s attention very long, it instead nodded its head in the direction where civilization allegedly laid.

Virgil glanced over his shoulder, as if he would see lanterns bobbing in the darkness between the trees, the sound of armour and swords and shields. He didn’t know why the hope in him fluttered like it did, but he was rewarded with nothing but the same inky and pressing void of night as before.

He shook his head, defeat clear in his shoulders. “I wouldn’t make it far like this,” he told the dragon, staring down at the bloody bandage. “Especially not in the pitch dark. Honestly? The safest option is to go back with you.”

As insane as that statement was. Just the realization that going back to a dragon’s cave would be safer than trying to brave his way through the dark night. He’d rather stay the night in an overly warm cave with an overgrown lizard than fight off bears and wolves and whatever else laid in wait in the thick line of trees.

“Well, come on,” Virgil said, pushing himself up into a stand. He brushed his pants off before looking to the dragon expectantly. “I’m not going to walk back to your cave.”

The dragon made a low thrumming noise, the crimson eyes watching him curiously. As if it was seeing the prince in a whole new light. It seemed to brush the thoughts off a moment later and moved up onto its hind legs after a moment. The great beast checked their surroundings, before leaning down a bit further, nearly putting its neck directly against the forest floor.

It took Virgil a moment to realize what exactly the dragon was asking of him. Since its front limb was injured, it wouldn’t be able to carry him the same way it had when he’d been lifted out of the castle gardens.

He took one more glance down at his hand, scoffing as if he didn’t believe what he was about to do.

Virgil stepped up to the dragon and reached his good hand out. He found a handhold just above where the dragon’s wing connected to it’s back and he heaved himself up as best as he could one-handed. Even after he was up on the creature, it took another moment of adjusting before he actually felt comfortable enough where he was.

To be completely fair, Virgil was never sure he would ever be comfortable being on the back of a creature that was written about, mostly in tales of burning villages and kidnapping princes, while stashing gold in their hoards. The only reason he had been willing enough to try with this one particular dragon, was because it could have eaten him on countless different occasions and it almost always refused to even bare its teeth in a snarl at him.

This dragon was odd. He wished he knew why, but that was probably going to remain a mystery. However, if Virgil ever had the chance to understand the creature—really, truly understand it word for word—he would have so, so many questions.

The dragon rolled its shoulders and the prince was pulled right back from his wandering thoughts, and stood up to its entire height. Virgil could see a little further into the darkness then before, the higher up on the treeline. Just not enough to really see over the tops of them. The wings spread out beside him and the human royal ducked down the slightest bit closer to the dragon’s smooth spine.

The scales were cool beneath his touch, but shimmered dully in the moonlight.

One powerful beat of its great wings later and they were off the ground. Virgil squeezed his eyes shut in surprised, his shoulders pulled right up. He was wound tight as a spring. The cold air surprised him as they rose higher and higher into the night.

Once he found himself opening his eyes, the sight itself was astonishing. The inky darkness was no longer so suffocating. It felt like the stars were right at his fingertips and ahead, the further he looked, he could just barely make out the outline of the walls leading to his kingdom.

Virgil felt a rush of mixed emotions at the realization that they were so close and yet so far. Walking by himself would take ages. Getting back home would be impossible without the dragon’s assistance.

Though, he knew he couldn’t linger in those thoughts. Instead, he leaned back as much as he dared and let out a breath. Taking in the fresh air that stung his lungs like tiny daggers of ice. While this was completely out of the ordinary, there was just something so exhilarating about being so high up– not to mention getting to be that high up by being on the back of an incredible creature that was always told to be evil.

This was the same creature that people whispered about, told children horror stories. Dragons were the creatures of nightmares for countless people. All save for one.

In the dark of the night, in the cold air of autumn and impossibly high off the ground, Virgil laughed. The sudden sound even surprised himself, but he couldn’t stop the second one that bubbled up. Nor could he stop the third and the fourth. Not long after the sounds of joy, he could feel the dragon vibrating. It almost felt as though the creature itself was purring, showing there was contentment with it as well.

“What my brother would give to be here right now,” Virgil called over the whipping wind, the dragon showed it was listening by turning it’s head just enough.

The stinging of his hand faded into a numbness as the wind chilled it. He didn’t care.

No one would ever believe him if he ever got back to the kingdom.

But a part of him knew no one would ever have to.

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