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scribblingfangirl · 4 years ago

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WRITTEN WORDS & WHISPERED WISHES | Julie and The Phantoms - Luke Patterson

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Author’s Note: I wrote this fic for an old fandom of mine and thought I could re-write/re-use it to finally get started on my JaTP bingo card (because my creativity and originality are nowhere to be found) - I hope you enjoy, yet I’m still sorry in advance? (song’s Poet by Bastille but slightly adapted by me)

word count: 1.9k

prompt: ‘Song Fic’ on my @jatpbingo bingo card

summary: It took several sleepless nights, days of throwing up and feeling bad and the pressure of cuddling with Luke to finally discover that you were pregnant.

warnings: teen pregnancy, character death, a very hastly scribbeled down fic idea (this was not beta read (or read over in general) so typos, inconsistent grammar and other faboulous little annoyances (if anyone loves to read my fanfics and would like to volunteer as my beta reader I’ll kiss your feet))

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It had been a few weeks since you, well... since you had seen another room rather than your classrooms and your own four walls. You even missed your kitchen and living room. But especially, you missed the boys' studio.

Today, however, has been a good day. You had managed to eat properly without feeling sick and were starting to catch up on some shortly due essays, papers and homework assignments, so you wouldn’t need to do them when feeling utterly sick again.

Luke had come to visit you (or tried to) a few times, needing to use his charm at your door, as you told your parents that you didn’t want him to see you. Your hair was a mess and unkempt, it pained you to stand for a long period of time (so you reduced the times you washed it to a minimum), your eyes had dark circles under them and you were exhausted even if you didn’t do anything the whole day long.

“I brought you food. I know that your fridge only knows like three meals”, he had said once quietly, putting the tray with the steaming meal on your bed, gesturing for you to move a little, so he could sit beside you.

“You mean to say that I and/or my parents only know three meals”, you had coughed laughing and refused to move. You didn’t want him to get sick too.

“No don’t,” you had muttered when he started to push you to the side, “I think I might have a bad bug and Sunset Curve can’t function without its lead vocalist and guitarist. And I can’t eat anyway.”

He had looked at you, confused and concerned. “Still? Alex told me you were able to keep your breakfast in, and I thought that meant you were on your way of improvement.”

“Some illnesses take longer to go away. I just didn’t want you to check on me because things like a normal cold or a little stomach bug can pass without unnecessary medications even if it takes longer.”

That had been two weeks ago. But today, when you were finally looking presentable again and were even able to open the door yourself, it wasn’t Luke that was visiting you.

“Oh… it’s you guys.”

“Geez, thanks Y/N. No need to kill us with all this kindness,” Reggie said laughing and sniffed, “Uh! Smells amazing. Pizza?” Without any hesitation or warning, he entered your house and vanished into the kitchen.

“Pizza? Wow, you must really be feeling better. I remember you throwing up on me a week ago when I tried to feed you chicken soup,” Alex smiled, hands in his pockets and not moving until you invited him in.

“Oh no,” hiding your face in your hands after you closed the door behind you both and groaned. “I’m so sorry about that. Again. Tell me how much the cleaning bill was and I-”

“Chill Y/N, relax. You’ve seen me at my worst and now I’ve seen you at your worst. Sure, I was still way more elegant and not as weak as you, but you just gave me a reason to finally get rid of those shoes.”

“No Alex! You loved those sneakers!” you said horrified.

“Just kidding. Give me 50 bucks and we’re even. Or, you know, better yet, come back to the studio and help us get rid of an overly clingy Luke. Now that you’re better, pleeeease, give him some cuddles!”

You giggled. “You know you have two perfectly fine arms to hug him with as well, right?”

“Yeah!” He said, raising his voice. “But not ALL the time. And I want to be appreciated for myself once too! Not just because I am the only one available to give hugs as an ‘emergency solution’!”

“You make it sound like you actually let us hug you dude, don’t lie,” Reggie muttered through a mouthful of Pizza, throwing himself on your couch.

Throwing Reggie a stink eye Alex turned to you again. “Anyway… You and I will go to the studio now. Yeah?”

“Well”, you stocked, not sure if you could talk to them about it. You had hoped for a few more days to think it over. “You know… It might actually not have been a bad bug, but rather a big bug that I caught.”

At their confused faces, you sighed. “I’m a few days, or even weeks... late”, you mumbled the last part so quietly, you weren’t even sure if they had heard you (if they even knew what you meant).

You were definitely not expecting Reggie to be the one to answer. “Do you want me to drive you to the hospital or do you just want a pregnancy test first?”

You didn’t know who of them had told Luke, or when, but after a few minutes of waiting in the hospital’s waiting room he came barreling in, beanie askew on his head and guitar case on his back. His searching eyes found yours in a haze and you could basically hear the question in his gaze ‘Are you?’. Silently you shook your head, averting your eyes.

Alex offered him his place beside you and Luke grabbed your hand while you waited. A few moments later your name was called and the nurse brought you and Luke to an empty room and told you to wait again. She came back a few minutes later and Luke moved to the side of the bed and held your hand again.

You didn’t feel the cold gel on your belly. Didn’t feel the way Luke was almost crushing your hand in his. Didn’t hear the words the nurse said. You only heard the faint heartbeat of your baby. You were pregnant.

Luke was beaming, looking at the screen where you could see the ultrasound of your baby, but he also looked at you with a little bit of fear in his eyes.

I can't say the words out loud So in a rhyme, I wrote you down Now you'll live through the ages I can feel your pulse in the pages

Even though you were only in your eighth week and not really showing yet, Luke wouldn’t allow you to wear anything else than his oversized hoodies, sweaters, pullovers and flannels (the ones that still had sleeves. And okay, fair enough, it might also have been because he absolutely loved to see you in his clothes.)

He was like an eagle watching over you, flying down as soon as you were doing or were going to do something he didn’t approve of. He even almost convinced his and your parents to move into your room so he could reach you faster in case of an emergency. (It was a clear no from both parents and he even got grounded for that idea - though later on, you learned from Alex that it was because he had said ‘Why not? It’s not like I can impregnate her again!’)

Of course, your parents weren’t happy about the situation, but they weren’t about to throw you out on the street. They both loved you and Luke (after all, they did fall for his charms one to many times), but they never really spoke the words out loud, never really talked about the fact that you two were going to be parents, a family at such a young age.

And Luke and you? While he was acting like an overprotective husband you both weren’t really talking about it either. You both were terrified about the fact that you were going to raise a child while Sunset Curve was trying to make it big, while you were still in High School and it still seemed more like a dream to you both, a dream from which neither of you wanted to wake up and face reality.

That’s why you started to write the letters. Or in Luke’s case - lyrics. Letters to future you’s, letters to your unborn child telling them about your adventures, your experiences and feelings. It was a way to tell yourself all the reasons why it was okay that you were going to be having sleepless nights filled with the cries of a baby, telling you that it was all going to be worth it.

And for the first time, while writing those letters and lyrics, it was as if both you could feel your baby.

Your body lies upon the sheets Of paper in words so sweet I can't say the words So I wrote you into my verse Now you'll live through the ages I can feel your pulse in the pages

Time went by fast. You remembered the first time you felt the little kick very well, as if it was yesterday, but at that time you still could somewhat see your feet and now you couldn’t even stand up anymore without somebody’s help.

School was weird, but you had the boys to help you through it.

You started to draw little babies beside your letters, trying to imagine the different looks it could have. Would it have your hair or Luke’s? His eyes and your nose? Your eyes and his smile?

And then you started to write your letters and lyrics around the baby, making it look like it was cradled by your warm words, hoping that whenever you wouldn’t be able to hold your child, it would be able to read your letters and feel the love, because you surely did.

How could you have known that in just a few weeks these lyrics would be the only words your child would ever ‘hear’ from their father?

I have read you with these eyes I've read you with these eyes I have held you in these hands

You had never seen your parents looking so fragile and broken like the night they came into your room to tell you the boys died.

And then, the next thing you knew was that your son was born. The doctors and nurses said that it was the stress, the emotional overload of being told that your friends, your loves, the father of your child died that caused your water to break.

That’s why it was Bobby and not Luke that was by your side that night and held your hand. It was Bobby, the normally strong and grumpy teenager, that was smiling like a little kid that just got told it would get to eat as much candy as it wanted.

His eyes were glistening with tears as the nurse handed him the little bundle of joy and he started to sway him - Luke - slowly back and forth, knowing that you were too tired to hold him at the moment.

“He is beautiful”, you murmured as he took a seat beside you, his gaze still fixed on his nephew, because obviously, he would be Uncle Bobby (though not for a very long time), “Just like his father.”

You didn’t hear Bobby’s answer as you fell asleep and dreamed of Luke, tucking you in and kissing your forehead before he dedicated himself entirely to the new tiny human in his arms, singing a sweet lullaby.

“We have written you down. Now you will live forever and all the world will hear you and you will live forever. In eyes not yet created, on tongues that are not born, in ears not yet listening. I have written you down, now you will live forever and Sunset Curve will sing about you.”

#luke patterson x reader #julie and the phantoms x reader #jatp #julie and the phantoms #luke patterson #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson one shot #luke patterson oneshot #julie and the phantoms imagine #julie and the phantoms oneshot #julie and the phantoms one shot #jatp imagine #jatp one shot #jatp oneshot #my writing #viascribbles

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bucky-blogs · 5 years ago

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Rising of the Sun

Pairing: Zuko x Reader, Zuko x Pregnant!Reader

Word count: 1,983

Warnings: Pregnancy, morning sickness

Synposis: “Hello can we have a pregnant reader with zuko’s baby??” - requested by @aqua-the-mermaid26 . Sequel to this fic

A/N: I love this so much bc this kind of fluffs are my weakness!! Hope you guys enjoy it. I really enjoyed writing this. Feedback is much appreciated. Requests are still open, just send an ask

The day you married Zuko was one of the happiest days of your life. After being crowned as fire lord, he proposed to you 2 years later in the turtle duck pond, where you spend most of your time while he was in meetings.

It was a magical night. You were both chilling under the tree while you watch the family of turtle ducks swimming around when he suddenly popped the question and, of course, you tackled him and said yes.

That was a year ago, your wedding day was on the day of the first full moon. That day, all of Fire Nation was invited to witness your union of becoming one, the gaang was there too, dressed in their best outfits but no one compares to your beauty that night. You were like a sun goddess that everyone worshipped. Zuko, being Zuko, forgot to write vows until the last minute, you just laughed at him and he poured his heart out for you and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

Now things are going back to normal again, you just got back from your honeymoon in Ember Island where Zuko remodeled their old family home to relive some of his favorite memories of the past.

“Good morning, my love” Zuko whispered in your ear groggily as he tightened his embrace on you. You giggle, having been awake for a few moments now. “Good morning, husband” you replied sweetly.

He suddenly tackled you and is now above you peppering your face with kisses, “My wife, my queen” he said with every kiss. You started laughing and trying to push him away but he continued tickling your sides as well. “S-stop it, Zuko!” you tried to tell him while laughing and pushing him away.

“I’ll stop if you say it again”, he replied with a smile on his face as he sees your happy expressions. You knew what he was talking about. He loves it when he hears you say ‘husband’, it makes him weak in the knees.

“S-stop it, h-husband!”, you tried to say in between laughs.

He stopped, a smile adorning his face from ear to ear. It was a rare sight to see Zuko smile, and you cherished every moment you see it. You pulled his face down for a soft kiss, wanting to give him all the love in the world.

As you were kissing him, you suddenly felt a sense of nausea. You got up fast and raced to the bathroom to vomit. “Well, I didn’t know my morning breath was that disgusting for you to immediately throw up.”, he joked as he followed you and held your hair as you continued to puke. Once you were done, he helped you clean up. You smiled weakly at him and tried to ease the worry evident on his face. “I’m sure it’s just something I ate yesterday” you assured him as you caress his face.

Zuko told you to go to the infirmary immediately but you dismissed him, “I’ll go if it happens again, I’m sure it’s nothing” you keep assuring him. He reluctantly let you go so he can start his duties for the day.

Okay, you were wrong, you puked two more times that day and it’s made you weak for the rest of the day so, you visited the infirmary. As the healer checked you, the thought of being pregnant was on your mind. It brought a smile to your face, you and Zuko definitely talked about having kids. He was reluctant and scared of turning in to his father but you keep telling him that he was not his father and he’ll be a better father than Ozai was before.

The healer went to your quarters a few days later while you were resting and told you what they found. You were beyond ecstatic when you heard what the healer said. You were going to be a mother! Happy tears start to fall on your face as you basked in the great news. Of course, you were excited and you can’t wait to tell Zuko.

In that evening, you invited Zuko for a relaxing time in the turtle duck pond as you talked about your day. “I went to the infirmary a few days ago when I started throwing up and I just received the news today”, you told him softly.

A million thoughts already surfaced in his mind, what if you contracted an incurable disease? Were you terminally ill? Were you going to die? His breathing started to race and you turned to face him. “Zuko, stop panicking. Nothing’s wrong with me, in fact, it’s good news” you told him, trying to ease his panicking mind. He looked at you confused, how can throwing up be good news? He lets you continue, “The healer came to our quarters today and told me what was going on” you continued and looked at him smiling wide, “Zuko, I’m pregnant”

Words can’t explain the happiness Zuko was feeling that night, he was beyond shocked by the news. He never imagined himself being a father but now that he was with you, the thought of having children isn’t as scary as it was before. He hugged you tightly as happy tears stream down his face, “Thank you so much, Y/N. I promise to protect you both with all I have.” He kneeled in front of you and softly held your still flat stomach. “Hey, there bean, I promise to be good to you and mommy. I��ll protect you and give you the best life possible.”, he kissed your stomach, his lips lingering there and you feel tears in your skin.

You kneeled with him a few moments later and kissed him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You went back to your room and celebrated the night with love and care. You knew that Zuko was going to be the best father to your children.

FIRST TRIMESTER

Every morning, Zuko would wake up before you and kiss your stomach as he whispers sweet words to it. He always helps whenever you have morning sickness. He will hold your hair up and whisper encouraging words to you as you puke everything in the toilet. He’ll wash you up and kiss your head. Whenever you feel cramps, he’s immediately there to heat his hand the right amount and massage you where it hurts. He’s such an attentive husband and father.

He told the gaang the news via messenger hawk and he received letters back, congratulating him. He would announce to every person he meets, that you were pregnant. He can’t get enough of saying, “My wife’s pregnant”. Telling Iroh the news was the best, you traveled to Ba Sing Se to Iroh’s teashop to personally deliver the news to him. Iroh was ecstatic with the news, “I’m going to be a grandfather!”, he would say this to every customer that goes there, “And I’m going to be a father!”, Zuko would shout after he hears his uncle say it to each customer.

Eventually, the whole Fire Nation, nay the whole Four Nations, knew you were pregnant just because both of them wouldn’t shut up about it.

“Zuko, I’m pregnant, not ill”, you always tell him whenever you try to join meetings and he tells you that you need to rest. That doesn’t stop him from always preventing you from doing heavy work but you manage to convince him that you can still do it.

SECOND TRIMESTER

When your bump started to show, Zuko would always talk to it. “Hey bean, it’s your daddy here. Be good to your mommy while I do my Fire Lord duties alright?”, he would say this every morning.

There’s no day that he won’t talk to your growing bump. The morning sickness is gone now, you feel the baby kicks!

One evening while you were trying to sleep, you felt a flutter in your stomach. You sat up quickly and grabbed Zuko’s hand while he was reading beside you. He was confused at first but then he felt the sudden kick of your baby and oh boy, his face was just priceless.

“Was that our baby?”

“No, it’s some turtle duck living inside me”

He laughed and the whole night his hand stayed in your stomach, wanting to feel his baby’s kicks.

Every time you have an appointment with the healer for your pregnancy, he was always there. There’s a meeting at that time? Meeting postponed, you always come first. He’s there in every appointment and asks a lot of questions to the healer about you and your bean.

“Are you sure bean’s okay?”, he would ask this at least 5 times until the healer would get annoyed. “Why don’t you just live inside your wife’s womb and see that your baby is healthy?” the healer would reply to him.

He would just shrug it off and caress your growing bump.

THIRD TRIMESTER

If you thought Zuko was overprotective in the last few months, you were wrong. Now that you’re nearing your due date, he wouldn’t leave your side.

“Here let me carry that for you”

“Zuko, it’s just a blanket”

Foot rubs at night were amazing, he would massage your feet whenever it aches. The panic came as you near your due date, he wants everything to be perfect. He refused to have his baby’s room far away from him, so he told the maids to set everything up in your room. You didn’t know the sex of the baby yet so everything is in the traditional fire nation colors. You already received gifts from your friends and other people from the council, wishing you and your baby well. Katara went to visit you during this time. She felt your bump and gleamed, already knowing that your baby is healthy.

Zuko was against you going out of the palace but you were so cramped up in the palace and you convinced him to take a palanquin ride to town to visit the market and buy some stuff.

You should’ve taken Zuko’s advice, you suddenly felt a wet sensation down there and you gripped Zuko’s hand tightly.

“Zuko, I think the baby’s coming”, his eyes widen and he ordered the guards to take you back to the palace. You’ve never seen how fast a palanquin can go but now you saw it. Once you were back, you were immediately put to the infirmary as the healers’ fussed over you.

When it was time to push, Zuko was beside you holding your hand and whispers words of encouragement to you.

“You can do this, my love, I’m proud of you. Our bean is just a few pushes away”

A few moments later, you heard the cry of your baby.

“It’s a girl, my lord, and lady!”, the healer announced.

Tears of joy stream down your face as you hold your baby girl in your arms. Zuko was beside you, the same mess as you are as he looks at your baby. You gestured for him to hold her and his eyes widen. He got scared, afraid that he would drop your baby, thoughts ran in his head, what if he wasn’t good enough? But you already started to hand her over to him. He immediately held her like he was his world and all those scary thoughts inside his head vanished if you could just paint this moment, you would.

“What would you like to name her, Fire Lord Zuko?”, the healer asked. You talked about names before one for a boy and one for a girl.

“Arpina”, Zuko softly replied.

“Just like the rising of the sun”, you softly whispered. Zuko turned towards you and kissed your head.

This was the start of a new chapter in your lives, you wouldn’t trade for anything in the world because the sun rises with you.

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reinerispretty · 5 years ago

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rotations. (zuko x f!reader) pt 14

hi everyone!! i hope you’re doing super well :) thank you so much for reading rotations and for sending me so many kind words!! you all mean the world to me and i rlly mean that bc i am a very emotional person hehe

pt 1

pt 13

pt 15

There were enough rooms in the house for everyone to have their own and, out of habit, (Y/N) picked the room that had once been hers whenever she stayed with the royal family. It was eerie how little it had changed. It was like it had been frozen in time since she had been eleven. Half-finished letters to her friends on the mainland remained on the desk, their scrolls crinkled at the edges with age. An old painting of her and Zuko hung at her bedside. She took it down immediately and shoved it into a desk drawer.

“This place is amazing!” Sokka yelled as he ran up the steps of the beach house. After being attacked by Azula and being forced to flee the Western Air Temple, at Zuko’s suggestion, the group decided to fly to Ember Island to hide in plain site among the Fire Nation. On their way there, Zuko and Katara had gone on a separate mission to track down the man that killed her mother. While (Y/N) understood the necessity of Katara finding closure, she disapproved of her doing it with Zuko. She especially disapproved of how friendly the two seemed when they returned. Katara had always been her confidant in disliking Zuko and it seemed he had won her over, too.

(Y/N) stopped at the end of the stone path, looking up at the ornate designs carved into the wood that symbolized to who this house belonged. The last time she had been here was years ago, but it felt like it was a lifetime away. So much had changed since then.

Katara nudged her shoulder with her own. “Everything okay?” She asked, a small smile etching into her features. (Y/N) pursed her lips. Katara was the first person that she had ever told the full story of her past. She remembered choking on her words a lot because she was unable to find the happiness in her once good memories. Now that they were back on Ember Island, it was like everything was flooding back to her at once.

“Yeah,” she said with a nod, but it was just a second too late to convince Katara that she was being honest. “Being back here just weirds me out.”

Everyone had once again changed back into their Fire Nation clothes and while (Y/N) was comfortable, she felt completely exposed. Like anyone could recognize her at any moment. She had to keep reminding herself that it had been years since these people had seen her.

She dropped her bag and began taking the sheets off the bed so she could wash them. A flash outside of her door caught her eye and she leaned back to see what it was. In the room across the hall, Zuko was hanging clothes in his wardrobe. She tensed. How could she have forgotten that their rooms had been across from one another? It would be doubly difficult to avoid him now.

She tried to talk to Zuko as little as possible if it could be avoided. It made her upset, seeing that all of her friends were gradually becoming more friendly with him. She had been happy before he had entered their group and she would be happy again once he went away. All she had to do was wait it out.

Quickly, she gathered her bedsheets into a bundle and darted out of her door, down the hall, and down the stairs, where Katara had already set up buckets of water and soap to wash their clothes. She silently sat down beside her friend and began scrubbing.

“You’re gonna rub a hole into those if you keep scrubbing so hard.” She looked up to see Katara raising an eyebrow at her.

“These haven’t been used in years, I just want them to be clean.” In reality, she wanted to scrub those sheets free of the long, sleepless nights she had spent thinking about her future with Zuko.

“I’m surprised that Zuko wanted to come back here,” Katara said in an effort to start a conversation with him. “The last time he was here, he was with Azula and those two girls.”

“Mai and Ty Lee.”

“You knew them?” (Y/N) nodded.

“I went to school with them. They were all a grade below me. Ty Lee ran away and joined the circus and Mai had the biggest crush on Zuko.” She frowned and Katara must have noticed it, because her friend giggled. “What?”

“Are you jealous?”

“Why would I be jealous? Zuko can date anyone he wants. I don’t care.” Katara hummed knowingly and (Y/N) splashed her with soapy water. It irritated her that friends were always trying to act like they knew something she didn’t.

After they had finished doing laundry and eating lunch, the entire group wanted to sit on the back steps of the house to enjoy the nice weather. Despite being in the Fire Nation, Ember Island was beautiful and its weather was almost always temperate. Everyone besides Aang and Zuko sat while the two boys practiced their firebending. Aang was getting better with each passing day, but (Y/N) noticed he was still holding back. With firebending, you have to give it your all, or else your flames would be weak. She told him this as he ran back to the steps for a water break.

“I want to be able to be in control of my fire,” he said. He glanced over at Katara, who looked away. She knew he still blamed himself for accidentally burning her.

“You can be in control and still put your whole being behind it. Firebenders attack with their whole self, because we have fire inside of us. You have it too, you just need to let it out.”

“(Y/N) knows what she’s talking about,” Zuko said. “She was one of the best prodigies back in the Fire Nation.”

“Don’t do that,” she snapped at him. Zuko looked at her, surprised. “Don’t just bring up the past like we’re reminiscing on good times.” She stood so she was eye level with the former prince. “And you’re crazy if you think you can get back on my good side just by complimenting me.”

“(Y/N)-”

“No! You’ll let me speak. For years I tried to reason why you would just drop me like I was nothing to you. Like we didn’t spend ever summer for years on this island, together, and that I didn’t spend almost every waking moment of every day at your side. You left me in the Fire Nation and even after our fights, even after you captured me to take me back to the Fire Nation as a war criminal, I still believed that there was some good in you. You sure fooled me! You had been fooling me for years and I just never realized it. And then, after everything I said to you in your uncle’s tea shop, you betrayed me. You ran home to the people who had been nothing but evil to you from the moment we met and left me in a prison to rot!”

This was the most she had spoken to Zuko since he had joined their group. The fire that raged in her eyes was apparent, and Katara was close enough to see the flames dancing on her fingertips.

“And then you want to come here and act like everything is fine? You want to befriend my friends, the people that cared for me when you didn’t, and bring up the good times we had and just completely forget that for the past three years you treated me like I was nothing! Every fight we had, I held myself back because no matter how hard I tried to, I couldn’t hurt you!”

She shot a fire ball at him that missed by a few inches. Zuko stepped back as (Y/N) walked down to the beach. “You want to be here so badly? Prove it! Fight me!”

“(Y/N),” Zuko began.

“I challenge you to an Agni Kai!” The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them. She and her friends realized the weight of what she had said quickly. Zuko set his jaw, his fists balled at his sides.

She regretted what she had said as soon as it came out of her mouth. She was just so angry and as she looked at Zuko, it was hard to not get angrier. Angry for leaving her behind in the Fire Nation, angry for betraying her in Ba Sing Se, and angry for being able to fit himself back into her life so easily.

(Y/N) made the first attack, which Zuko dodged. She shot flames at his head, body, and feet and their friends watched in astonishment as they jumped, flipped, and kicked their way around each other.

“It’s like they’re dancing,” Suki said. Aang narrowed his eyes.

“He’s on the defense,” he said.

“What?” Toph asked.

“Zuko isn’t fighting her back.”

Their friends could feel the flames get hotter as her anger toward Zuko eventually took control. She was getting sloppy with her movements and instead chose to shoot fire at Zuko every chance she got. Katara stood to diffuse the situation, but Sokka grabbed her arm.

“They have to do this,” he said.

(Y/N) was ruthless. She knew she didn’t want to hurt Zuko, but she couldn’t stop herself. Years of anger were reaching their boiling point in this battle.

“I don’t want to hurt you!” Zuko shouted at her.

“You already did!” She shouted back, jumping into the air and smacking her fists to the sand, sending a wave of fire at him. The flames had spread around them, encircling them in a ring of fire. Her fists were lit with fire blasts. “Fight me back!” She screamed, shooting balls of fire at him. He had been dodging her attacks and slashing through her flames. Not once had he shot fire at her. “Do something!”

“I won’t!” Zuko shouted over the roar of the flames. “I don’t want this!”

(Y/N) could feel the tears streaming down her face. If he fought her, she would have a reason to retaliate. She would have an answer for hurting him, just like he hurt her. Zuko’s amber eyes stared in to her own.

“I won’t fight you.”

She was twelve again, watching with tear-filled eyes as Zuko knelt to the ground in front of his father, begging him for mercy. She remembered the fear in his voice and the way he screamed when his father burned him right after he had said the very same words he was saying to her. “I won’t fight you!”

The flames died down instantly. (Y/N) brought her hands to her mouth and slowly fell to her knees, her body shaking with sobs. Her tears hit the hot sand around her.

She felt strong arms wrap around her and pull her body close to theirs. Zuko rested his chin atop of her head and rubbed her back, his own tears sliding down his cheeks. She pulled away to look up at him. Her eyes were red, her cheeks puffy from her tears, and her bottom lip quivered as she held in a sob, but Zuko still felt his heart skip a beat.

“I’m sorry,” she cried. “I didn’t mean--I didn’t want--”

“I know,” was all Zuko said. She wrapped her arms around his middle and hugged him tightly, tucking her face into his neck like she had when they were kids. They sat like that for what felt like hours, until one by one, they felt their friends wrap their arms around them.

---

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luminescencefics · 4 years ago

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you feel like home - part eight

It seems that Harry feels the same, because she can hear him replying, “Of course I didn’t forget your birthday! How about you turn the telly on and wait for me, yeah? I’ll cook you my famous eggy bread and we’ll kick off your big day properly.”

Ryan hears Jackson squeal excitedly and she almost wishes she wasn’t buried underneath Harry’s duvet so that she could see his gleaming grin. And just before she can hear the door shut, Jackson asks, “Can we still invite Ryan and Luna to my party?”

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*** In Which Five is a Big Number

“Oh my god, Ryan.”

Ryan’s almost positive there’s no better sound than Harry groaning her name. It’s somehow scratchy yet completely audible, and Ryan can hear the little breathy sounds in between each syllable. It’s a juxtaposition of breathlessness and clear-cut clarity, and when her name falls off his lips like a secret, she feels special that it’s only for her ears to hear.

The tip of her nose tickles the thin patch of hair at the bottom of his naval, and when she feels him hit the back of her throat and tears start to spring from her eyes, he lets out another guttural “Christ, Ryan,” and she knows he’s very close to falling apart.

They’ve spent the past two months getting acquainted with each other’s bodies. After Harry finally kissed Ryan in her living room, he carried her over to the couch and they snogged like teenagers—all bitten lips and roaming tongues, knocking teeth and wandering hands. When Ryan started rutting against his thigh and the tightness in Harry’s pants became unbearable, they separated and decided to take things slow.

But that was two months ago. Now, if things went any slower, they’d be stagnant.

Those first three weeks they kissed so much that Ryan’s jaw ached and Harry’s lips were permanently raw. He wanted to take things slow because he assumed Ryan would grow overwhelmed with each next step they took. But one night after Ryan came over for dinner and pretended to say goodnight to Jackson, she waited in the hallway until Harry was certain Jackson was down for the night, and when his front door ripped open and his hands grasped her arms, he dragged her onto his couch and kissed her like he did every other night before that.

But Ryan was growing restless, and while she thought it was admirable the way Harry wanted to be patient with her, she was practically losing her mind with the way his hands stayed planted on her ass and never went anywhere else, the way his lips kissed every inch of her skin above the neckline of her shirt, the way she would be begging for more and Harry wouldn’t oblige.

Even though Ryan could barely look at Harry those first two months they were tiptoeing around each other, she knew that right now—with his mouth licking at the underside of her jaw and his hands squeezing the thick fleshy parts of her ass—she was going to fucking lose it if he didn’t do anything more.

Because they’ve finally figured it out. The unanswered questions that were plaguing them in the beginning have slowly been answered with every moment she spends with him. The lingering gazes and unknown feelings finally meant something to both of them. But now—now that she’s had a taste and gotten a glimpse of what Harry could do to her, she’s practically gone crazy thinking about it all.

Ryan’s never been more sure of one thing in her entire life. And it’s that if she and Harry go any slower, she’ll burst.

So in a blind moment of bravery, Ryan reached down between the pair of them and palmed the growing bulge in his trousers. His mouth ripped from her skin and his head fell back against the armrest of his leather couch, a deep moan working its way through his throat. And when it finally exploded from his parted cherry lips, Ryan could feel herself freefalling, losing sight of everything in front of her and crashing aimlessly below.

“Shit, Ryan.” His voice was strained and Ryan loved every second of it, and before she could have a conscious thought of what she was actually doing, her hands undid the black button with ease and her tiny fingers worked their way through his zipper, and suddenly she was reaching into his briefs and feeling him completely.

That was the first time she ever heard Harry groan like that, and Ryan’s almost positive she’s been addicted to the sound ever since.

That first night on Harry’s brown leather couch started a series of sneaking in and out of each other’s flats during all hours of the day just to get a piece of the other. Harry would slip out of his own when Jackson was down for his afternoon kip, opening Ryan’s front door and tasting her until he heard his mobile buzz with the sounds of Jackson’s stirrings. He’d sneak out just as quickly as he came, leaving her with a mouth-tingling kiss and the overwhelming urge of wanting more more more.

Ryan would come over for dinner almost every other night, keeping the hidden touches and stolen kisses between the two of them without Jackson truly understanding what was happening. And when it was time for Jackson to go to bed, she’d say her goodbyes and wait for Harry in the hallway until his grabby hands were on her own, dragging her back inside. They’d fool around in Harry’s bedroom quietly, swallowing each other’s giggles and grinning whenever stars exploded behind their eyelids.

Harry knew that if he dragged his teeth around Ryan’s earlobe she’d practically become a writhing mess below him. Ryan knew that if she wrapped a dainty hand around the column of Harry’s neck and licked at the piece of skin where his collarbone met his shoulder, his eyes would roll in the back of his head. Harry knew that Ryan was shy whenever he’d start kissing at the skin just underneath her belly button, simultaneously making sure that his green eyes never left her brown ones—because direct eye contact while he was lapping at the most sensitive parts of her body made her want to look at the ceiling or close her eyes tightly. But when they would switch positions and Ryan was the one in between Harry’s legs, she knew that sneaking a glance up at him while her mouth was around him was the exact thing that would bring him over the edge.

And she loved every second of it. She loved being the person bringing somebody like Harry to his end, watching the way his cheeks flushed a deep red color and his mouth opened widely, the way his chest would constrict and his hands would grip the closest thing to him—which most of the time was Ryan’s hips that she happily allowed him to bruise—the way his eyes would shut at the actual last moment, making sure to remember the way everything looked around him before his vision blurred with desire and his body vibrated, completely spent. And when it was all over and he would breathe deeply, a quiet hum resonated through his body that made Ryan’s heart flutter and her body wrap around his own like two magnets with opposite polarities.

Harry loved how confident Ryan grew around him in these moments. While her cheeks still tinged pink whenever he would compliment her as she removed a layer of clothing, she knew exactly what she wanted and felt comfortable enough to tell him. She would tell him that she liked when he gripped her hair, she would tell him that she liked when he ran his tongue down the front of her body, she would tell him that when he gripped her too hard at times that she didn’t really mind it—in fact, she enjoyed it, she wanted it. And with each time they explored a new part of one another, she would grow much more at ease, until she was the one encouraging him to try new things.

And he was fucking addicted.

Ryan tried not to make a habit out of staying over, because explaining to Jackson what was going on while she was trying to sneak out of Harry’s bedroom wearing one of his obnoxious graphic tees was completely mind-boggling to her. She didn’t want to make Jackson feel uncomfortable—and while Harry and Ryan both knew that they had to eventually tell Jackson about their relationship, sneaking around and keeping things just between the two of them has made everything that much easier. Because everything felt new and different, and bursting that bubble just as they were exploring one another seemed a bit disheartening.

Which is why when Ryan feels Harry’s hands gripping the base of her neck while he tries his hardest to subdue another groan, she’s immediately brought back to the present. The present— which consists of her sucking Harry off under the covers of his charcoal-colored duvet in the early hours of the morning, wearing nothing except one of his bright jumpers with vibrant lettering and images of kittens littering the front.

And just before he grips her hair harder and is practically careening towards his end, she’s surprised when she can hear the excited pitter-patter of bare feet slapping against hardwood over Harry’s strangled moans.

Before she can even scold herself for accidentally spending another night in Harry’s sheets, his gold bedroom doorknob begins to wiggle. All at once, Ryan tears her mouth away from Harry’s twitching length, muttering a frantic “shit!” from her position underneath the duvet cover. The door springs open before she can even contemplate hiding inside the attached en-suite, and suddenly Ryan finds herself in a position that’s possibly more humiliating than getting rug burn in front of her attractive neighbor almost four months ago—face squished against Harry’s bare stomach, chest flat against his thighs, and legs stretched out around his own, completely buried underneath the duvet.

Harry sits up gently, making sure Ryan’s body is flat against his own and hidden underneath the darkness of his room. “Hey—hi! Bubs, uh, what’s up?” His voice comes out extremely high pitched, and Ryan can’t tell if it’s from the fact that they were nearly caught in a compromising position by his four-year-old son, or from the fact that he was seconds away from an orgasm that never came.

“Daddy! It’s my birthday! Why are you still in bed? We have to celebrate me!”

Scratch that. Five-year-old son.

Without thinking, Ryan pinches the extra skin around Harry’s waist, causing him to jolt upwards in shock. Her brain instantly starts whirring, working in overdrive to try and remember if Harry had mentioned his son’s fifth birthday to her at all during these past few weeks. And when she can’t think of anything, Ryan feels herself frowning against the rigid muscles of Harry’s abdominals, immediately feeling bad about overlooking this important occasion.

Ryan bites her lower lip to try and hide the smile stretching across her face. She wishes that Jackson already knew about their relationship, because if he did, she’d rip the duvet off of the bed and scoop him up in the biggest hug she could muster, tickling his sides until his arms were wrapped around her neck and she could carry him into the kitchen, waiting patiently for Harry to cook them both his famous eggy bread.

But unfortunately, she’s supposed to be hidden, and that looming thought turns her concealed smile into a heavy frown. Somehow Harry can sense it, and before their cover gets blown, he tells Jackson, “Of course they can come. Why don’t you grab the invitation we started yesterday and finish decorating it. We can drop it off after brekkie, sound good, Bubs?”

Jackson must have nodded appreciatively, because suddenly Harry’s bedroom door clicks shut and the charcoal-colored duvet is thrown to the bottom of his mattress. Ryan looks up at him with wide eyes, her lower lip bitten and her eyes tinged with sadness.

“We’re dickheads, huh?” Ryan offers, clambering off the bed and trying to locate her joggers on his carpeted flooring.

Harry watches her, tucking his erection uncomfortably into his tight briefs and selfishly wishing his son had better timing.

“Don’t say that. Just got carried away, is all,” Harry offers lamely, running an exasperated hand through his messy hair when he notices Ryan practically fully dressed in front of him.

“We need to tell him, Harry. He’s got to know something, considering I’ve been going to the park with you guys and joining you for dinner almost every other evening.” Ryan keeps her voice down as she exchanges Harry’s obnoxious jumper for her cardigan and vest combination she showed up here in the night before.

Harry nods, offering, “We’ll tell him. Tonight, I promise. Can you just—just come here, please?” He’s growing dizzy watching her run around his bedroom grabbing her discarded items, and all he wants is to have her close to him so that they can potentially finish what they started moments ago.

Ryan can tell from the look in his eyes that he’s desperate for her touch. And when she rejoins him on the bed, straddling his thin waist and wrapping her arms around his neck in a quick cuddle, her chest completely flat against his own, she wishes now more than ever that they could wake up every morning just like this.

She lifts her head from the crook of his neck and plants a quick kiss to his temple, before untangling herself from his body and slipping her trainers on her feet. “You’ve got a birthday boy to entertain,” Ryan mutters with a wink.

Harry rolls his eyes from his position on the bed, moaning in frustration when the sudden shift of his body makes his length twitch unforgivably. “How am I supposed to cook with a full stiffy? I’m in pain here, babe.”

Ryan just snickers before throwing Harry the shorts and hoodie he wore last night. “Have a quick wank in the shower, you’ll be sorted in no time.”

“You’re cruel,” Harry complains, slipping the clothes on and adjusting his shorts so that his erection wasn’t so painfully obvious.

“I’ll see you later, okay? We’ll finish this properly,” Ryan offers, snaking her arms around his waist when she notices the smirk threaten to break across his face. His strong arms wrap around her middle, and Harry brings his hand up to wrap his long pointer finger around a stray piece of Ryan’s hair that fell in front of her line of vision.

“Properly, yeah?” He teases, bringing her closer so that the tips of their noses are brushing against one another.

Ryan nods with a pretty smirk covering her lips. “Maybe daddy will get a present, too.” Harry drops his forehead against hers, puffing out a frustrated breath that fans against her cheeks.

“You’re killing me, baby,” he whispers against her mouth, before pressing his lips against hers with a forceful kiss. Ryan’s arms tighten around his body, and when she feels his tongue prod against her lower lip, she backs away, knowing they need to reign it in before they get too lost in one another.

“Later, I promise,” Ryan says, hinting at the one barrier that they haven’t crossed yet, praying that Harry understands what she’s implying.

And when his eyes light up wickedly and he gives her one last toe-curling kiss, she’s almost certain that he knows exactly what she’s talking about.

He opens his bedroom door and heads out into the hallway first, making sure Jackson isn’t lingering in the bathroom or kitchen as they pass. When they encroach upon his position in the living room—telly blasting Paw Patrol as he lays on the rug with his tummy on the shag carpeting, flannel-clad feet bent behind him as his chin rests against his opened palms comfortably—Ryan gives Harry’s waist one last squeeze before she slips out of the entranceway and into the hallway undetected.

When Ryan enters her own flat and greets Luna with a sleepy smile, she immediately heads to her bathroom and turns the shower on. As she’s undressing, Ryan peeks at her reflection in the mirror and almost doesn’t recognize the woman looking back at her.

This version has messy hair tangled at the back of her neck from greedy hands knotting themselves through the tendrils. This version has flushed cheeks—but not in the way she’s grown accustomed to. No, this version’s cheeks are flushed because she’s excited, she’s thrilled, she’s exerted her sexual prowess on a deserving man and she’s in awe of the way she can make him practically fall to his knees in front of her, begging for more more more.

This version has love bites littering the swells of her breast. And if she squints hard enough, she can make out the dents carved by fingertips across her hips and along her sides, permanent reminders of the way someone else could want her. Could need her.

And when she looks at this version’s face and takes in her swollen lips from overuse, the bags under her eyes from choosing to stay awake and fool around with her boyfriend instead of choosing to sleep, the smile that seems to constantly grace her lips whenever she leaves Harry’s presence—Ryan finds that she doesn’t want to look away.

She wants to stare at it. She wants to remember it. She wants it to consume her.

Comfortableness is a look Ryan never thought would suit her, and with each day she lets her walls fall down, she falls more in love with the person she’s becoming. Someone who is confident, someone who no longer lets her social anxiety rule her life, someone who is finally happy with where she is at.

Because falling in love and feeling free somehow coincide with one another. And as Ryan lets the hot water seep into her skin, she knows now that this is where she’s meant to be.

***

“Fiona, for the hundredth time, I’m not describing Harry’s dick to you over the phone,” Ryan harrumphs through her mobile, reaching for the emerald green wrapping paper and unrolling a significant portion to begin wrapping Jackson’s birthday present.

“That’s not fair, Ry! I’ve gone into exquisite detail about Roger’s!” Fiona exclaims back, pouting dramatically from her position leaned up on the coffee table of Ryan’s mobile.

Ryan rolls her eyes before reaching for the scissors. “Once again, that information was unsolicited.”

“Ugh!” Ryan giggles from her position on the floor of her living room, folding up the edges and covering her gift with the wrapping paper. “I can’t wait until this lockdown is over so I can come by and slap you upside the head.”

“Since when have you become so violent?” Ryan asks, securing the wrapping paper with scotch tape.

“Since my best mate won’t tell me about her apparent dazzling sex life!”

Ryan puts the wrapped gift to the side and rests both elbows on the coffee table with her back to the juniper couch. Her arms cross at the middle so she can rest her chin on her wrists, giving Fiona her full attention.

“Well, we haven’t really—um, you know,” Ryan begins, her voice nearly a whisper as her cheeks flame in embarrassment.

“Haven’t really what, Ry?” Fiona presses, always the over-eager one.

Ryan gulps. “Done that.”

Fiona pauses for a moment, observing Ryan through the FaceTime call as she patiently tries to read her friend’s emotions. “You haven’t shagged him yet?” It’s not asked in an accusatory tone, or even a shocked one at that—just complete and utter curiosity.

Ryan knows Fiona’s testing the waters to see how she feels about it all, and she’s a bit grateful to her friend for not being so glaringly obvious. “Uh, yeah. Haven’t really gotten there yet.”

“Well, do you want to?” Fiona asks.

Ryan looks at her with a dumbfounded expression. “Of course I do, Fee. He’s my bloody boyfriend!”

“So what’s the problem here, Ry?” Her prodding is nothing but gentle and calculated.

“There’s no problem. It’s just—” Ryan takes a deep breath and sits up straight. “It’s just that I don’t want to muck this up, Fiona. He’s great and he’s kind and he’s so patient with me, it’s incredible. I’ve never had that before. And I love that he’s taking his time—that we’re taking our time. But I just want to be at that next step with him. I want to be able to spend the night without having to sneak out the next morning. I want to feel so comfortable around him that having sex is just easy, and natural, and just—I don’t know if I’m making sense.”

Fiona blinks a few times with a gentle smile on her face, and suddenly Ryan is nervous about her response.

“I’m proud of you, Ryan.” It’s simple, somehow profound in a way, and Ryan just cocks her head to the side in confusion. “Stop looking at me like that, you twit!”

A smile breaks out across Ryan’s face, a laugh ripping through her throat. “You’re just so happy, Ry, and I think a lot of that has come from Harry. Because not only did you find someone who wants to be with you, but you found someone who wants you to be yourself.” Fiona pauses, leaning a bit closer to her screen. “And I think you just need to tell Jackson the truth. It’s not like he’s going to be upset—from what I’ve heard, that boy is already in love with you.”

Before Ryan can reply, she hears the sound of paper scraping against hardwood flooring from the entranceway of her flat, followed by a familiar high-pitched giggle echoing through the hallway.

She waits a moment before grabbing her mobile and heading towards her front door, bending at the knees when she scoops up the hand-drawn folded invitation on the floor.

“Should I be concerned?” Fiona asks surreptitiously.

Ryan smiles and shakes her head. “No, no. Luna and I have been formally invited to a very important five-year-old’s birthday party next door.”

She holds up the paper, smiling when she notices the capitalized scrawl at the top of the page, clearly done by somebody who can spell Quarantine Birthday Party without hiccups. Surrounding the handwriting are various images drawn by a five-year-old: a picture of Luna sleeping on Harry’s brown leather couch, two Nerf blasters along the bottom, a pizza with orange squiggles that Ryan can only assume to be bell peppers in the top right corner, and finally Harry Potter along the top.

Ryan turns on her heel, heading into her kitchen and hanging the invitation up on her refrigerator with a magnet.

“I’ve got to go, Fee,” Ryan says, slipping her Reebok’s on and gathering Jackson’s presents.

“Alright, alright. But seriously, everything’s going to be alright, you hear me?” Fiona’s yellow-painted pointer finger is extended to the camera, and Ryan smiles at the sight of her mate trying to be stern.

“Yes, Fee. I know. I’m going to be okay.” Ryan responds, meaning every word.

Fiona nods and drops her finger, before adding, “And when you finally do shag, I would love a full synopsis on how Harry—”

Ryan hangs up before the blush could coat her cheeks.

Scooping Luna up in one arm and balancing her two gifts in the other, Ryan makes sure the lights are off before slipping out into the hallway and knocking thrice on 4G’s heavy oak door.

Not even a minute goes by before the door is being ripped open, revealing a sight that still manages to bring a smile to Ryan’s face.

It’s Harry—dressed down in a casual pair of brown corduroy trousers paired with a yellow Swim Deep graphic tee that Ryan can’t wait to wear to bed later on in the evening. His hair is held back by a clip, somewhat familiar to the way he wore it the first time they met in the ghastly hallway. And when her eyes finally land on him and he’s grinning like a fool, Ryan can’t help but mirror it, wondering if they’ll always feel like this whenever they see each other.

“Hi,” he says softly, reaching out and grabbing the two wrapped gifts from her hands.

“Hi,” Ryan responds, hoisting Luna further up in her arm so that she’s resting against her chest.

“You look pretty,” Harry says, and when he reaches down to plant his lips on hers, he’s halted in his movements when Jackson appears, practically bubbling with excitement.

“Ryan! Luna! Hi! I’m five!” His chocolate brown curls are in small cloisters framing his face, making his almond-shaped sage eyes twinkle in the light. He’s wearing a Rolling Stones t-shirt that Ryan can only assume was gifted to him by his father, and when he skirts by Harry’s leg and stands right before Ryan, she can only grin right back.

“I heard! Happy birthday, champ. How do you feel?” Ryan asks, squatting down on her toes so that she’s eye level with Jackson.

She watches as he contemplates his answer, rubbing a small hand against the fur on Luna’s head. “I feel the same but bigger. I’m happy now that you guys are here, too. Do you think I could show Luna the toys daddy and Auntie Gemma got me? I’ll be quick.”

Ryan nods, handing Luna over to Jackson and watching as he holds her gently and carries her through the living room and down the hallway into his bedroom, chatting with her softly along the way.

When she stands up, Harry’s mouth is on hers greedily, pulling kisses from her lips and wrapping his arms securely around her body as if he was scared she was going to disappear.

“Mmm, missed you,” he mumbles once they’ve parted.

“You just saw me a few hours ago, crazy boy,” Ryan responds, tickling her fingers through the curls resting against the nape of his neck.

With one last kiss, he drops his arms. “Miss you whenever you’re not here.”

Ryan smiles shyly, taking a half-step back before Jackson can catch them. “I want to tell him today, Harry. Think he’ll be okay with it?”

Harry looks at Ryan with wide eyes, wondering how she could even fathom Jackson disliking that she was going to be a part of their lives. “Of course he’ll be fine with it. In what world wouldn’t he be?”

Ryan sighs. “I know.”

With one last look, Harry wraps his arm around Ryan’s shoulders and brings her body against his side, cuddling her closely until the tip of her nose was bushing against the veins pulsing in his neck. “I’m gonna miss having you all to myself, though.”

Ryan giggles loudly, hugging Harry closer to her body. “You’ll learn to be a good sharer.”

He pouts dramatically before dragging her into the kitchen, her body still tucked into his side. When she enters the threshold she notices the island countertop is covered with flour—three evenly spherical doughs spread out over top, with ceramic bowls filled with toppings littering the outskirts.

Ryan leaves his side and looks at him with a quizzical look. “Pizzas on a non-Friday?”

Harry grins. “The birthday boy demanded it! How am I supposed to say no?”

Ryan just smiles before heading over to the sink and washing her hands. When she turns around after drying them on a tea towel, she notices a matching set of white feeding bowls on the tiled flooring to the right of the sink counter. And when she squints, she can make out LUNA etched in black writing along the front.

“Is this…?”

Before she can get a conscious sentence out, Harry rounds the island countertop and meets her in the middle of the kitchen. When he notices the look on her face is a mixture of complete shock and adoration, he shrugs shyly at her and rubs his sweaty palm against the back of his neck.

“Yeah. Figured if you were going to start spending the night here, Luna could come too so you wouldn’t have to worry about feeding her.”

It’s amazing how a simple notion of purchasing cat feeding bowls for your girlfriend’s kitten can somehow make Ryan’s heart beat wildly against her chest. But it does—and she’s left looking at Harry fondly, wondering if the wicked thumping of her heart and her shortness of breath and the deep look in her eyes can equate to something like love.

“You didn’t have to,” she offers lamely.

Harry scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I wanted to.”

The sudden sound of a phone ringing from the living room interrupts Harry and Ryan, and when he cranes his neck and notices the noise coming from the iPad strewn across the brown leather couch, he steps back from Ryan and starts following the ringing.

“It’s probably Rachel calling from New York. Wants to wish Jackson a happy birthday,” Harry explains as he grabs the device and answers the call with a simple greeting.

Ryan backs away and heads down the hallway into Jackson’s room, knocking on the opened door and crossing her arms against her chest when she notices him and Luna sprawled out on his rug as he attempts to build his brand new Lego set.

“Hey, champ. Your mum’s on the phone,” Ryan says from her position leaned against the doorframe.

“Really? All the way from New York?” Jackson asks, standing up quickly and grabbing Luna so she’s securely nestled under his armpit.

Ryan nods. “Yeah, go say hi, okay? She wants to wish you a happy birthday.”

“Okay, Ryan,” Jackson obliges, hobbling past her figure and heading into the living room to grab the iPad from Harry. Making sure not to eavesdrop, Ryan returns back to the kitchen where Harry is spreading red sauce on all three pizza doughs.

She watches him, taking in the way his arms strain against the thin material of his shirt deliciously. When he bites his lower lip as he makes a spiral with the tomato sauce, making sure each pizza dough has the same amount, ensuring he left space for the crust to lift at the edges, Ryan tries her hardest to keep her giggles at bay. She finds it incredibly adorable that Harry is such a perfectionist, even without an audience to watch him.

When he lifts his head up after feeling her hot gaze on him, he smiles at her bashfully before cocking his head to the side, gesticulating that he wants her near him. “C’mere and pick your toppings,” he says slowly, dropping a kiss to the crown of her head when she’s settled against his side.

They work together in comfortable silence, working around each other in grabbing handfuls of cheese, chopped up pieces of vegetables, scattered slices of pepperoni. When Ryan grabs the bowl of pepperoni slices from Harry’s hand, he chuckles to himself before opening his mouth wide, waiting for her to feed him. She giggles at his immaturity, but eventually obliges, popping a slice into his mouth and letting the tips of her fingers graze his lips until he’s left shivering in his place.

Once their pizzas are finished, Harry starts spreading cheese on Jackson’s, before asking Ryan offhandedly, “Do you mind asking him what else he wants on his pizza? I want to pop these into the oven.”

Ryan nods, trying her hardest not to be difficult. But when she cleans off her hands and pops her head into the living room, she’s suddenly flushed with nerves. She feels bad interrupting Jackson’s conversation with his mum, especially on his birthday when she’s practically an entire world away.

When there’s an appropriate lull in the conversation, Ryan clears her throat and calls out, “Hey, champ? Daddy wants to know what toppings you want for your pizza.”

She watches Jackson’s neck snap in her direction, an excited smile plastering his face. “Ok! Tell him I’ll pick them myself! Here, Ryan,” and with that he jumps off the couch, thrusting the iPad into Ryan’s hands without ending the call or saying goodbye to Rachel on the other end.

“Jackson, wait! Say goodbye to your mum!” After waiting a few seconds and hearing nothing but silence, Ryan sighs to herself before looking down at Rachel’s patient gaze on the screen. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for him to run off like that.”

When Ryan looks at the screen, she’s a bit astonished when she sees Rachel’s mouth begin to form a laugh. It’s the same expression as the photograph of her in Jackson’s room—full lips parted, mouth hanging open slightly, tongue resting against her bottom layer of teeth. She looks pretty with her straight hair clipped against her shoulders, and when Ryan takes in her bare face and fluffy white robe, she suddenly doesn’t feel as nervous around Rachel as she was in the past.

Because for once, she seems like a normal girl. And when her smile doesn’t break and she’s looking at Ryan without dark eyes filled with anger, Ryan’s not quite sure what to make out of it all.

“It’s okay, pizza is probably infinitely more interesting than speaking to his mum at the moment,” Rachel jokes, her laughter floating through the speakers in a way that makes Ryan crack a grin.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Ryan offers, trying to figure out how to end this conversation without making their already awkward relationship any worse.

“That’s nice of you to say,” Rachel responds quietly, tucking a stray piece of blonde hair behind her ear. “I’m glad you’re there, by the way. You mean more to them than you could ever imagine.”

It’s quiet for a moment as Ryan takes in Rachel’s words. Her simple comment of approval somehow makes the nervous pit in Ryan’s stomach unravel, and suddenly she starts seeing Rachel in a different light. Maybe in the past, she was the villain in Harry’s story, but that doesn’t mean it always has to be that way. Because Ryan finally sees Rachel for who she is—a mum who simply is trying to do her best, no matter how many mistakes she’d made.

“Thanks, Rachel. That means a lot,” Ryan says with a smile.

“No problem. I should probably go, I’ve got a Zoom meeting in an hour. Tell Jackson I said goodbye?” Rachel asks softly.

“Of course. Bye, Rachel,” Ryan says, smiling when Rachel waves just before ending the call.

Ryan locks the device and places it on the end table before rejoining Harry and Jackson in the kitchen. When she pokes her head in and watches Harry appropriately place the pepperoni slices wherever Jackson wants them, she can’t help but smile like a fool at the sight of it all.

And just before Harry asks if Jackson was happy with his pizza, his son quickly adds, “Daddy, can I add bell peppers too? The green and orange ones, like Ryan has,” and Ryan tries her hardest not to gasp.

Harry grins before sprinkling the same amount on Jackson’s pizza, before popping all three into the oven. Ryan decides then to enter the kitchen completely, leaning her torso over the island countertop across from Jackson who’s happily munching on a stay pepperoni slice from his position perched on the leather barstool.

With a quick look at Harry, Ryan wordlessly tells him that now is the best time to tell his son about their relationship. Harry nods before sidling up to Ryan’s side across the counter from Jackson, looking at his son once he’s finished swallowing his snack.

“Hey, Bubs, Ryan and I have something we want to tell you,” Harry starts, watching his son nod happily on the barstool.

“Okay, daddy,” Jackson says easily, looking between the two adults across from him with wide, inquisitive eyes.

Harry looks at Ryan before speaking. “You know how we’ve been spending a lot of time with each other lately?” Harry starts, pausing until Jackson’s head starts bobbing up and down.

“Right, well we’ve decided that we really like each other. And that we want to keep spending time with each other, if that’s okay with you?” It’s quiet as Jackson mulls this over, his hand resting on his chin as he tries to wrap his five-year-old brain around what his father just explained to him.

“Of course that’s okay with me. I like Ryan too, daddy,” Jackson says, his green eyes squinting in confusion as he struggles to understand what Harry is trying to tell him.

“I know that, Bubs. But I like Ryan the way adults like each other, do you know what I’m trying to say to you?” Ryan can tell that Harry is struggling, because his palm flies up to the back of his neck as he rubs it awkwardly, beginning to stumble over his words as his brain begins to work in overdrive.

“I think so,” Jackson starts, placing both palms down on the counter as he cocks his head to the side and looks at both of them from across the counter. “So you like her. And you kiss her, too? The way you used to kiss mummy?”

Ryan looks at Harry with wide eyes, hoping he can salvage the rest of this conversion before it implodes right in front of their faces.

“Yes, but I kiss Ryan because she is daddy’s girlfriend. Do you understand now?” Harry asks.

Jackson nods, looking down at the countertop before lifting his eyes to meet Harry’s. “Yeah, I get it. What does that make mummy, then?”

Ryan blushes, looking at Harry nervously. She can tell that he’s thinking, because how do you explain the difference between a mother and a girlfriend to a five-year-old?

After a minute passes in silence, Harry clears his throat and says, “Mummy is still your mummy. And well, Ryan is, uh. Ryan is your—”

“—Your friend. Your very best friend, who cares about you and will always be here for you whenever you need me,” Ryan says, interrupting Harry before he stutters all over his words.

Without thinking, she reaches her hand across the counter and grabs Jackson’s smaller ones in her own, the same way he did to her the first day they met four months ago in the hallway. And once his eyes are locked on hers firmly, she adds, “Think of it as having two women in your life that care about you very much. Do you think that’s something you’d be okay with?”

Jackson squeezes Ryan’s hands tightly in his own before a ginormous grin breaks across his face. Harry can feel his shoulders slump in relief, and when he brings his arm around Ryan’s shoulders and brings her against his side, Jackson just giggles loudly across from them, happily wiggling in his barstool.

“I think that’s just the bestest news ever!” Jackson exclaims, smiling so big that the tiny dimples carved into his cheeks deepen.

The timer goes off, indicating that their pizzas are complete. Harry rounds the counter and begins pulling them from the oven. Ryan walks over to the barstool and lifts Jackson up from underneath his armpits, placing him on the ground so that he can settle into his spot in the breakfast nook.

After Harry places the pizzas on the table and grabs their beers and Jackson’s juice from the counter, the three of them sit around the table while Ryan cuts small pieces for Jackson’s little hands to grab.

Once she’s made sure that Jackson’s completely settled, Ryan reaches for her own beer and begins cutting her into her pizza. The domesticity of it all no longer makes Harry or Ryan uncomfortable. Instead, they welcome the feeling with open arms, no longer batting an eye whenever Ryan wipes tomato sauce from Jackson’s grabby hands, no longer falling slack-jawed when Jackson asks for a piece of Ryan’s pizza instead of his own, no longer growing red in the face when Jackson grabs Ryan’s hand when she’s done eating her dinner.

Ryan offers to help Harry clean up, but once Jackson notices the two emerald wrapped presents in the corner of the living room, Ryan’s practically dragged into the living room so that he can excitedly rip open his gifts.

“How about we wait for daddy, champ?” Ryan asks, sitting cross-legged against the floor with Luna in her lap and her back against the couch while Jackson begins strategizing how he should rip open the wrapping paper.

“I’m too excited I don’t know if I can wait!” Jackson squeals, reaching for the smaller box below to try and guess what’s hiding underneath.

After a few minutes of painfully waiting for Harry, he finally emerges and sits behind Ryan on the couch, caging his legs around her frame. When she feels him settle in behind her, Ryan leans back so that her head is closer to his lap, and Harry begins rubbing at her shoulders comfortingly while they both watch Jackson tear into the larger package.

“You didn’t have to get him anything, you know,” Harry whispers into Ryan’s ear.

Ryan turns so that she’s looking at him over her shoulder, rolling her eyes amusedly and repeating his words from earlier. “I wanted to.”

Jackson’s excited shriek causes both Harry and Ryan to look at him, and when he holds up the brand new Nerf blaster that he tested out with Ryan almost two months ago, she can’t help but grin wickedly back at him.

“No way! This is so great, Ryan! Thank you!” The fluorescent orange plastic gun sits on his lap as he begins pulling the trigger and watching the empty ammunition compartment spin clockwise.

“Should I be worried?” Harry asks ominously from behind Ryan, causing Jackson to look from his father to Ryan with nervous eyes.

With a subtle wink, reminding him to keep their secret between each other, Jackson giggles quietly before placing the gun back on the floor beside him. “Nothing to worry about, daddy,” he says, reaching for the smaller yet heavier wrapped package in front of him.

As he begins tearing at the paper, Ryan grows more alert, sitting up straight so that she can see the expression on Jackson’s face when he finally reveals the contents of his present. When the paper is finally removed from the top part of the gift, Jackson gasps when he notices seven varying sizes of books all with the words Harry Potter inscribed on the spine.

“Whoa.” It’s the first time Jackson’s ever struggled with finding words, and when he turns the books over that are tied together with white tinsel, so that he can see each book separately, Ryan almost swears she can see his mouth open and close repeatedly.

“Figured you should have your own,” Ryan says quietly, reaching over to untie the string so that he can thumb through the brand new pages of his own books.

“This is the greatest gift I’ve ever gotten,” Jackson whispers, dropping the books to the floor so that he can scramble up to his knees and wrap his arms around Ryan’s neck, engulfing her in a tight hug.

Ryan tries her hardest not to cry with happiness, because out of all of the hugs she’s ever received in her entire lifetime (including the warm embraces Harry has gifted her in the past two months) this hug from Jackson beats them all. His tiny fists knot together at the nape of her neck, and she can feel him squeezing her tighter when her own arms fall around his torso, bringing him closer to her.

“Thank you so much,” he whispers into her shoulder, letting her go and sitting back on the floor so that he can look at his brand new presents.

When Ryan sits back, she turns around so that she can see the look Harry gives her. She’s almost certain that it could be love, but when he leans down and kisses her on the cheek, thanking her profusely, she’s not sure if she’s overthinking it all.

After the excitement of the party dwindles down and Jackson’s muffling yawns into the crook of his elbow, Harry decides that it’s time for bed. Jackson doesn’t put up a fight, and when he gets up and begins heading into the bathroom to start his nighttime routine, he turns around before Harry can get up from the couch and follow him.

“Ryan? Can you put me to bed tonight?”

His question makes the warmth she feels whenever he looks at her flush through her insides, and when his sleepy green eyes twinkle and he holds a hand out waiting for her to hold, she’s up and by his side without a second to spare.

She lets Jackson pick out his pajamas, and when he’s too tired to put his head through his blue sleep shirt, Ryan holds it over his body so that he can stick his arms through the holes and she can push it down appropriately. She pulls out the stool for him in the bathroom so that he can step up and brush his teeth, making sure to reach the deep corner of his mouth and swipe his toothbrush over his tongue until his breath is minty fresh. And once he’s finished, she walks him into his bedroom and pulls down his covers, letting him slide in so that she can tuck him in tightly.

“Hey, Ryan?” Jackson asks sleepily, tucking his chin over the folded duvet against his chest.

“Yeah, champ?” Ryan asks, swiping a stray curl off of his forehead.

“Does this mean Luna gets to have a bed here, too? So she doesn’t feel alone in your home whenever you're here?” His question is a simple one, but somehow Ryan can’t find the words to answer. Because she’s spent a lot of time feeling alone in her own home, and in the past two months she hasn’t felt that feeling at all. She’s wondering what it all means.

Before she can answer, Harry pops his head in from the hallway. “Ready for bed?”

Jackson nods, yawning one last time before snuggling deeper into his pillow. “Mhm. Night daddy. Night Ryan.”

“Night, champ. Hope you had a great birthday.” Ryan doesn’t wait for him to respond, instead, she switches off his bedside lamp and flicks on the nightlight against the wall, shuffling across the room to meet Harry’s waiting arms.

But before the door can fully close, they hear Jackson call out, “Love you both!” and Ryan halts in her steps.

It falls out of his mouth so easily, without question, as if it was something she should already know. And when Harry responds and Ryan’s left staring dumbly at the wall, she’s wondering if it really is that easy to fall in love with somebody else.

She’s thinking about this while getting ready for bed with Harry later that night, exchanging her jeans and jumper for the yellow shirt he wore all day. It smells like him—hints of vanilla and sandalwood, all citrusy shampoo and that distinguishable smell that follows him around. They work in comfortable silence in his en suite, sharing the one sink as best they can. Harry waits while Ryan washes her face, and when she’s hidden behind a face towel, Harry pinches her bum underneath the hem of his shirt and reaches for the toothpaste. Ryan squeals, and once Harry’s begun brushing she does the same, smacking his hands away whenever he tries to bring her backside against his front, dribbling blue foamy toothpaste onto her shoulder. And when they both spit into the sink and head towards the mattress, her mind is still reeling.

It’s no secret that Ryan’s never grasped the concept of having a home. Growing up, she had two homes with two sets of parents in two different places. And when she became an adult, Ryan moved around more than anybody else—perfecting the ability to live out of cardboard boxes in different flats with different postal codes.

But now, she’s actively thinking about what Jackson said about Luna having a home here in their flat. Because home isn’t a physical place—it’s a feeling. It’s that warmth, that feeling of wrapping yourself in a heavy duvet on your mum’s couch. It’s mixing up parcels on purpose with the perfect excuse to knock on their door and see them again. It’s that giddy feeling you get when you notice the other person’s tea mug resting on your drying rack, a piece of them seemingly interwoven with your own life. It’s reading a book you’ve read hundreds of times over again to somebody who’s never experienced it before, saying each word as if it were the first time you’ve ever seen them. It’s having matching food bowls for your kitten and a second bed for her in a place where she can make her own home.

Home is having two separate flats but feeling completely safe wrapped around each other on a juniper couch or in a king-sized mattress with grey sheets.

And when they’re settled in these sheets, Ryan’s legs wrapped securely around Harry’s waist, Harry’s hands crawling further down her body until the tips of his fingers skim the hem of his shirt resting on her thighs, they both know that this is it. This feeling they’ve been running from suddenly makes sense—suddenly makes loneliness feel like the stupidest thing in the world.

Just before Harry can rip the shirt off of Ryan’s body, they hear his doorknob begin to wiggle for the second time that day. Harry groans frustratedly underneath his breath, allowing his head to fall against Ryan’s shoulder before the door falls open. Jackson stands in the doorway, clad in the same blue flannel pajamas Ryan had just helped him put on, holding a red and orange book cover in his small hands.

“Everything all right, Bubs?” Harry asks once Ryan’s unwrapped her legs from his waist and rolled over so that they’re lying side by side.

Jackson nods, shuffling into the bedroom inch by inch. “Since it’s my birthday and stuff, do you think Ryan could read to me a little?”

It’s timid and adorable and Ryan can’t help but start to smile, already knowing that she’s going to say yes without even acknowledging that his birthday is almost over as soon as the clock changes from eleven thirty to midnight.

“C’mere, champ,” Ryan says, patting the mattress happily.

Harry tries to argue, but when he sees his son’s sleepy grin and his girlfriend’s matching one, he knows there’s no use. So once Jackson reaches their bedside, he grabs him from underneath his armpits and plops him comfortably in the space between him and Ryan.

Jackson shuffles under the covers, dropping the brand new hardcover into Ryan’s lap. Harry flicks the lamp on the nightstand before turning on his left side, releasing his head on his waiting palm with his elbows bent so that he can watch both of them.

“Where’d we leave off?” Ryan asks even though she already knows from the dog-eared page in her own copy that Jackson clumsily marked off the last time they read together.

“The map! Harry has the Marauder’s Map!” he squeals, turning his head so that he’s practically cuddling into her chest.

Ryan giggles and Harry feels himself melting into his mattress. “Oh that’s right. Okay, here we go.”

Before she can let the first word on the page fall past her lips, Harry interrupts, “Does this mean I finally get to hear the Hagrid voice?”

She looks over and rolls her eyes, ignoring the amused twinkle in his own.

Once she’s finished the first page, she can feel Harry’s arm extend over Jackson’s head and reach towards the messy plait falling past her shoulder. With steady hands, he removes the hair bobble and starts untangling the strands, wrapping a wavy tendril around his finger and letting out a quiet but relaxing breath that makes her feel more at home than ever before.

And with Jackson curling further into her chest and Harry running soothing fingers down her scalp, Ryan should be feeling the complete opposite.

But when she sneaks a look at Harry as she’s turning the page, she notices that he’s been looking at her instead of the black text carved into the book. And when their eyes lock for a brief moment, she feels time stand still. Her heart lets out a strong string of heavy thumps, her skin feels just the right amount of warmth, and she’s never been more sure of her place in the world.

She thinks back to Fiona’s declaration of love at first sight, and wonders if the glimmer in Harry’s green eyes and the soft smile on his face is the same expression Roger wore the first time they met in that overcrowded club all those months ago.

And when Harry scrunches his face, wrinkling his nose adorably and squinting his eyes, Ryan knows for sure that Fiona’s right.

It’s love. It’s always been love.

***

A/N: And just like that, we’ve reached the end of YFLH. I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it! I never thought Ryan and Harry’s story would go past a oneshot, and I’m so happy that you all have grown to love them as much as I have. I want to thank all of you who have reached out to tell me your thoughts, to those who have liked or reblogged, to those who have recommended this story to somebody else--I truly owe you the biggest thanks. You’ve made this process so easy and fun, and I’m so grateful to you all!

Don’t hesitate to reach out and let me know your thoughts about part eight or everything and anything in between. This story was a submission for the 1DFF Quarantine Challenge, which has other amazing writers participating as well, so feel free to check out the page! Hope you all have a safe and happy Holiday season, and I’ll see you all soon! x

(In the meantime if you’re looking to do some more reading, you can click here for my masterlist!)

taglist: @stylishmuser @vikki1220 @greatestview @verorax @cronias13 @adoremp3 @ilovegolden @taintedwonder @stepping-into-the-light @onlyphysicallypresent @dontwanttobealone @justsaying20 @elemayox @awomanindeniall @ihearthemcallingforyou @halloweenniall @live-at-the-forum @kakayam @harryinsweatersandbandanas @hopelessly-harry @ficnarry @morethanamelodyy @niallgolden @harryswinterberries @caramello-styles @harrysstyle @greatestview @solllaris @niallgolden @mellamolayla

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry x reader #harry x ofc #1dff #1dffupdates #onedirectionfanfiction #1dffquarantine

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fullmoonremus · 5 years ago

Text

God Damn Smile | Edmund Pevensie x Reader

Warnings: Fluff :)

Time/Era: Modern AU

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: Edmund reconnects with his childhood best friend, and it makes old, forgotten feelings resurface.

Request: Hey! Can you write an Edmund x reader based on “A Typical Teenage Love Song” by Tate McRae? It’s fine if you can’t. Tsym in advance!

A/N: This song is so cute :D Ahhh, I love this imagine!!! I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! Thanks for the request :)

masterlist | read on ao3

“No! Don’t step on him!” Five year old Y/N L/N yelled at her friend, Edmund Pevensie. He had his foot raised above a small garden snail, right in the middle of a game of Godzilla. The pair were currently in Y/N’s back garden, playing amongst all the plants. Both children were dressed in brightly colored rain boots and their play clothes to enjoy the rainy weather.

“It’s just a snail,” Edmund responded, lowering his leg to the ground. Instead of squishing the garden creature, he kneeled down to the ground for a better look. It wasn’t anything special, just a normal garden snail, but it seemed to be rather important to his playmate.

“He is not just a snail! He is my friend.”

“If he’s your friend, what’s his name then?” Edmund let the small snail crawl up onto his finger before standing upright.

“Snaily,” Y/N responded, putting her hand out and throwing the teddy bear in her arms to the ground. Edmund placed Snaily on her palm and smiled a toothy smile. This made Y/N grin, putting her hand at eye level. “Thank you for not squashing him.”

“He’s my friend now, too. You don’t squash friends.”

Y/N nodded in agreement, “You don’t squash friends.”

“Do you remember being a baby?” Edmund asked Y/N. They were now eight and sitting on the Pevensie family swing set, avoiding the youngest Pevensie child, Lucy. Y/N adored Lucy, she thought the girl was adorable, but Edmund insisted the two have “big kid things” to attend to.

The swing set was old and rickety, as it had been in their family since Edmund’s older brother, Peter was a toddler. The colors were faded, the slide had a large crack in it and Edmund had written his and Y/N’s initials on one of the support beams. “No, am I supposed to?” Y/N answered. She had been last to reach the swings, so she was stuck with the squeaky one. Her face cringed each time the chains made a noise, despite her attempts to stay as still as possible. Y/N brought her hands to the teddy bear on her lap, covering its ears. Having been in the sun all afternoon, the swing was hot on her legs and it stuck uncomfortably to the skin on her thighs.

“I don’t think so. My parents were looking at our baby books this morning so I was wondering,”

“My mom has a picture of us when we were three hanging in our living room,” Y/N’s nose wrinkled and she kicked up a small patch of dirt. “We’ve been friends since we were babies. I don’t remember meeting you, though. You were just, there.”

Edmund laughed, standing so he could lean his stomach against the seat of the swing. He swung on his stomach once before situating back onto his feet. “Our fathers are friends which means we’re friends. That’s just the way the world works.”

“Friends forever, even if one of us moves far far far far away?”

“Friends forever, Y/N.”

“Do you have to go?” Ten-year-old Edmund stood outside of Y/N’s house, holding a box of barbies. Mr. L/N took the box from Ed’s hand and put it in the trunk of his car.

“It should only be for a few years at most, Ed. I’m getting relocated for work,” Mr. L/N responded, messing the young boy’s hair up with one hand. “We’ll be back. I gave your Dad our new address and you can write to Y/N to your heart’s content.”

When Y/N joined them at the car, backpack slung across her shoulder and her favorite teddybear hugged between her arms, tears were rolling down her face.

“I don’t want to go, please don’t make me!” She cried, holding to her teddy to her chest. Her face was scarlet and her mouth was etched into a frown.

“You can stay with us!” Edmund offered, his own tears starting to roll down his face. Y/N was more than just his playmate, she was his best friend. They had spent the last seven years of their life seeing eachother almost daily, and now all of that was going to come to a sudden halt.

“That’s sweet of you, buddy, but I think her mother and I would miss her too much,” Mr. L/N smiled down at the two before walking to the front of the car where his wife was talking to Helen Pevensie.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” Edmund sniffled. “I’m going to miss you. I have no one to play on the swings with!”

“You can play with Lucy.” Edmund made a face at this suggestion, making Y/N sadly giggle. “Or Peter.”

“No, Lucy cries too much and Peter always kicks sand in my eyes.”

A thoughtful look came over Y/N’s face and she looked down at the plush in her arms. After a small moment of what looked like intense thought, she held her teddy out towards Edmund.

“Here, Ed, now you can have a friend!” Edmund hesitantly took the bear from Y/N’s hands and looked down at it. It was obvious Y/N really loved that thing because it was a bit raggedy and one of the brown button eyes was replaced with a bright green one. “Teddy likes it better here, anyway. You can take care of him.”

Y/N awkwardly gripped her upper arm with her hand, swaying on her heels. Edmund hugged it to him and nodded stiffly. “He’s in good hands. I will protect him with my life.”

Both kids laughed and embraced before Y/N was whisked into the car.

Dear Y/N,

Happy 12th birthday! I’m sad I couldn’t be there for it, but I hope your cake was yummy. The picture my mum showed me looked absolutely delicious. She also said you took up archery at your new school! My school doesn’t offer that, so I thought that was cool. Did you shoot anything? I know you are too nice to shoot any animals but I never know with you. ;) I hung out with this girl in my English class the other day, she reminded me of you. She had long brown hair and blue eyes and a laugh that sounds like yours. She wasn’t as fun as you, though. I think she wants me to be her boyfriend. I’m not sure if I want to be her boyfriend. She kept trying to hold my hand. Her hand was sweaty. And she kept saying I have a cute smile. I don’t know how a smile can be cute? Teeth are weird. Peter said that was her way of trying to flirt with me. Do you flirt with boys at your school? What do you say?

Maybe we can play Minecraft together again soon. Last time we played I had a great time. Have your mom text mine and we can try to schedule something. I want a phone, it would be easier to talk to you.

I attached a picture of me and Teddy at the park. He misses you almost as much as I do.

I’ll be waiting for your response,

Ed,

Thank you for the birthday wishes. :D The cake was delicious, I wish you could have tried it!!! And to answer your question, yes, but I’ve only ever shot targets. It’s against school rules to shoot anything other than them. Sort of a bummer, though.

Your not-girlfriend sounds nice. I agree with her, your smile is very nice. You always look so happy when you smile, especially when your eyes light up.

I don’t really flirt with boys, boys are kinda gross. Not you of course, but the guys at my school. There is this one guy named Ethan who is kinda cute. He wouldn’t want to be my boyfriend though. My friend always talks about kissing him. I want to kiss someone...have you ever kissed a girl?

My mum said I can get a phone when I turn 14. Then, we can text and call whenever we want! I miss you. How’s teddy? He looks so happy in that picture. I hung it on my bulletin board.

Respond quicker this time, will ya?

Y/N

EDMUND!!!

I’M HAVING A CRISIS AT THE RIPE OLD AGE OF 13! Remember that boy, Ethan? Well, apparently he has a big crush on me. That’s fine, he’s cute and everything, but my friend has a big crush on him. I guess it’s like friendship code to not date him? I feel bad rejecting him. I kinda have a crush on someone already. I know he doesn’t like me though.

Are you still dating that one girl? In your last letter, you said you were gonna break up with her. How’d that go? Did she cry? Did you cry? I hope you didn’t. I don’t like it when you cry. It makes me sad.

Can you believe we’re teenagers now? It seems like just yesterday I was handing you Teddy and crying in the car for an hour. I hope we come back soon. But hey! I’m almost 14, which means I’ll be getting a cell phone. Maybe if I have a phone my mum can convince yours to get you one.

I miss you, Ed. I hope to be back soon.

Y/N.

Y/N!!!!

I’m not sure if that really counts as a crisis, but okay. If you don’t like him, don’t date him. That’s why I broke up with mine. I discovered I kind of like someone else, so I broke up with her. And no, I didn’t cry. If felt like a relief more than anything. Let me know how the “crisis” turns out.

I can’t wait until I get a phone. My entire grade has one, and so do Susan and Peter. I feel kind of left out, having to write letters when I want to talk to someone. It’s always fun when I get them, though.

If I have to hear Stitches by Shawn Mendes one more time, my head is going to explode!!!! Susan keeps playing it on repeat. I tried to turn it off earlier and she almost broke my arm. Why are siblings so mean? Or are mine just weird? You’re lucky you’re an only child. I miss you too, Y/N. If you were here life would be so much easier.

Edmund

“Edmund, you got a letter,” Lucy says, dropping the envelope on his desk. He was working on college applications, typing away on his laptop, and looking grumpy. Music blasted through his speakers as he worked.

“I didn’t order anything?” He grunted in response, not taking his eyes off of the screen.

“It’s from the girl you’re basically in love with, I think. It has her name on it.” Edmund looked at the envelope with scrunched eyebrows. Sure enough, it had her name and address written on the front in her familiar handwriting. His heart rate sped up while he gently (and shakily) broke the paper seal. Why didn’t she just text him?

Hey, Edmund,

I know we haven’t talked since we were like 15 and I could have just texted you, but this seemed more nostalgic and romantic in a way. You know how I tend to romanticize everything.

Anyway, I wanted to let you know we’re moving back for Senior year, crazily enough. A few years my ass, huh? We’ll be back on the 14th, so get ready for chaos.

Seriously, I’m looking forward to seeing you outside of Instagram again. You don’t have to come see me if you don’t want to, I know it might be a bit awkward, but I’d really like it if you did. My address is 1014 Swanwhite Lane. Come stop by if you feel like it.

I do miss you. Judging by your social media, you’re doing well. I’m happy to hear that.

Hopefully, I’ll see you soon.

Y/N

“Oh my god, she’s coming back,” Edmund says, gripping the thin paper in between his thumb and middle finger. “What’s the date?”

Lucy pulled her phone out of her pocket and unlocked it, “The 28th. Why?”

“She got back the 14th! She’s been back for ages and I had no idea, oh my god!”

“Well, are you going to go see her? You lost your chance to sweep her off her feet by waiting for her to arrive.”

“Sweep her off her feet?” Lucy rolled her eyes and hit him with the rest of the family’s mail.

“Don’t play stupid. I’ve heard you and Peter talking.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His eyes skimmed the letter again. Lucy snatched it from his fingers and hit him with it.

“Don’t know what I’m talking about? Really, Ed? The whole ‘I’ve been in love with her since I was 8 years old’ thing you told Pete? You don’t recall? Or the fact you have her post notifications on?” Lucy read the letter herself. “She wants to see you! Come on, this is your chance. You haven’t even looked at a girl since you were like 13.”

“I’ve been focusing on school. What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s a Friday night in the middle of August and you’re getting a head start on college applications. Ed, go see the girl.”

“Mum will never let me,” Lucy held up one finger and left the room. After about 5 minutes, she returned and held his coat out to him.

“She said to go have fun. Here, it might be chilly.” Edmund sighed and took his jacket. The corduroy felt soft under his fingers as he slid it on.

“You don’t have to be so pushy, Lu.”

Lucy smiled, “It’s only because I love you. Besides, if I didn’t push you, you wouldn’t go.”

Edmund sat on the curb across the street and looked up at Y/N’s house. It was well past 11 at this point and only one light in the house was on. Hopefully, it was Y/N’s.

He awkwardly thumbed through his contacts before pulling up Y/N’s. The last text was on his birthday, a simple two message conversation consisting of “Happy Birthday!” and “Thanks!”

Look outside

He watched nervously as his message went from delivered to read, but no typing bubble popped up. Edmund sighed and stood, shoving his phone into his jacket pocket and walking towards the house. Sure enough, the front door opened and a grown-up Y/N stepped out. She was still dressed, but her shoes were off and her hair was tied back. Edmund smiled at her mismatched socks, old habits die hard apparently.

“I thought you were never going to come and see me,” Her voice was like honey.

“I just got the letter today, so blame the postal service. Not me.” The two walked to the curb and sat down.

“Well, I’m glad you still came. I was expecting you to wimp out.”

“Wimp out?! Why would I do that?”

Y/N let out a forced chuckle and looked at the pavement. “Because you stopped answering my texts and calls.” She crossed her arms across her body and shivered. She was only wearing a short-sleeve shirt and a pair of pajama shorts. “But I get it, life gets in the way sometimes.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. Are you cold?” Without waiting for an answer, he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it across Y/N’s shoulders. It smelled like spearmint gum and pine.

Y/N let out a real chuckle this time. “Smooth, Ed. Very cheesy.”

“I will happily take it back.”

“Please don’t, this is the closest I’ve been to you in years.” Her fingers gripped the material and closed it around her torso. She scooted closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder. Edmund didn’t quite know what to do. “I missed you, Edmund. It’s so nice to see you again.”

“I missed you too. Your return is a few years late.” His chest vibrated with a snicker.

“I know, but I’m back now.” A moment of silence filled the air as the two tried to grow more comfortable in the familiar company.

“I used to dream about sitting with you like this, you know,” Edmund said before he could stop himself.

“You did?”

“Yeah, I used to picture us in all sorts of situations, but most of them were small things like this.”

“But not anymore?”

Edmund sighed, laying his head on top of hers. His hair tickled Y/N’s forehead. “I figured you moved on from me.”

“Moved on? What do you mean?”

“I mean, you have so many friends and a new life… and we stopped texting as often. I don’t know, I thought you, maybe, outgrew me.”

Y/N played with the zipper on Edmund’s jacket, making a small clicking noise fill the air. “I never outgrew you, Ed. In fact, a day didn’t go by that I didn’t wish I was here with you.”

“I don’t see why. You had so many friends and such an exciting life. I’m rather dull in comparison.”

“You’re definitely not dull. And it doesn’t matter how many friends it seems like I have, you’re the only one I consider a best friend. I should have reached out more, maybe I could have had a better year.”

Edmund shifted so he could wrap an arm around her waist. “Did you have a bad year?”

“Yeah, that’s sort of why we came back. But, I mean, I’m here with you, so everything has a bright side.”

Edmund grinned and tightened his grip. “That’s one of the things I love most about you. You can always see the positives in everything.” Y/N pulled back and looked at his face.

“I love it when you smile,” Y/N commented. “I could spend hours staring at that god damn smile.” Edmund’s cheeks reddened and his smile grew bigger.

“Why don’t you, then? Stay with me for hours, I mean.”

“I will if you let me, Pevensie.”

Edmund sniffed once.

“Did you ever end up dating that guy from your Chemistry class?” Edmund asks, studying the side of her face. His eyes scanned over her skin, admiring how soft it looked.

“No, I’ve been in love with someone else for quite some time.”

“What a lucky guy, then.” Edmund’s voice was only a bit louder than a mumble as he turned his head away from her.

“Yeah, I guess he is. I’ve known him since I was really young.”

“How’d you meet him?” Every word felt like a dagger into his stomach.

“I don’t remember, he was always just there. Our dads were friends so we were friends. That’s just how the world works.” Edmund took his hand off of Y/N and placed it in his lap.

“Oh, I see.”

“Yeah, he’s super cute. He’s really smart, too, but kinda oblivious.”

“Wow, he sounds great, Y/N. I’m so happy for you.” Each word sounded like he was choking them out. He stopped listening a few responses ago, but he still wanted to support her. No matter how hurt he felt, he was still her friend.

“He’s the best person I’ve ever met, if I’m being quite honest. He can be a bit of an ass though.”

“What’s his name?”

“You might know him,” Y/N tucked her hands into her sleeves before continuing. “His name is Edmund Pevensie.”

“Wow, what a cool- wait what?” Y/N giggled at the look on his face. His eyebrows were lifted and his mouth was open slightly.

“Yeah, I don’t know, maybe you’ve met him.”

“You’ve been in love with me?”

“Been and am, darling. God, when I got your text tonight my heart almost stopped.” Edmund was speechless, he couldn’t believe the girl he had been in love with for so long felt the same way. “Of course it’s okay if you don’t feel the same-”

“-No! I’m just shocked. I can’t believe this. I have loved you since we were little, I feel like I’m dreaming.” He couldn’t help but let the smile engulf his face, making his freckles stand out against his red cheeks. This was not what he was expecting when he had walked to her house.

“There’s that handsome smile I love to see.”

“So, you were waiting for me?”

“Just like you were waiting for me. Lucy texted me about six months ago about how you never show any interest when she tries to set you up with girls. Now is just our time, unless you aren’t going to show interest in me.”

“When did you get so sassy?” Edmund turned so he was facing her straight on.

“When did you get so flust-” She was cut off mid-word by his warm lips being pressed against hers. He tasted like licorice and mint, and Y/N instantly got intoxicated off of his lips. Both parties had dreamed about this moment for years, so now that it was happening, it left them both feeling light-headed. Edmund pulled back and smirked.

“Who’s the flustered one now?” He asks, hand cupping her cheek.

“Does this mean you’re finally mine?”

“Y/N, I’ve always been yours. Hell, I’ll always be yours.”

Edmund made a face as if he remembered something and reached into his backpack, “By the way, I’m not the only one who missed you.” He placed a very old teddy bear in his lover’s lap.

He had raggedy fur and one green eye.

#edmund pevensie #king edmund #king edmund the just #edmund pevensie x reader #edmund x reader #edmund pevensie fanfic #edmund pevensie fanfiction #the chronicles of narnia #the chronicles of narnia fanfic #the chronicles of narnia fanfiction #narnia #c.s. lewis #c. s. lewis #modern au #edmund #fluff

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ratedbangtann · 4 years ago

Text

“Hey, you.” ~ JJK [18+]

↳ summary - Your friends made fun of you constantly for your crush on Jungkook. Except, you didn't have a crush on Jungkook - did you?

↳ rating - explicit/18+

↳ word count - 8.6k

↳ pairing - Jungkook x reader

↳ genre - college!au, friends to lovers

↳ warnings - TW// F2L, a little humour, passionate and rushed sex, fingering, unprotected sex (pls assume birth control! But wrap it up, guys), romantic sex, steamy and heated and generally just everything you want from college boy JK, right?

↳ a.n - what’s up, beauties! I was commissioned again! I hope you love this, I thought it was cute lmao. If you would like your own commision, or would like to leave a tip, please head to: https://ko-fi.com/ratedbangtann (I just lost my job thanks to corona so it's my only income right now lol)

**************************************************

Winter Break was supposed to be a chance to relax, to kick your feet up and enjoy the holidays; Christmas, new year… But you spent the whole three weeks studying, as always.

“You need to learn how to have some fun,” Tae had remarked more times that you were willing to count as he walked past you sat at the kitchen island of your tiny shared apartment off campus. Easy for him to say; acting majors hadn’t been given much to focus on over the break, but you? Broadcast production was a tough major, filled with coursework and studying alongside practical work.

The only days off you gave yourself had been Christmas day and New Year’s Day, and then it was back to your old routine. You and Taehyung had made Christmas cute for the two of you, whilst all your other friends had gone home for the holidays. But you were paying rent on this place, and a Christmas away from home didn’t seem like a bad idea.

But the break was over, and lectures and seminars were starting up yet again.

“______, you gave yourself absolutely no break. How are you so eager to get back to class?” Taehyung groaned as you walked onto campus together.

“Just happy to have some company that isn’t you for a change,” you teased, earning a shoulder shove from him.

“Tae! _______! Wait up!” you heard a familiar voice calling from behind you, and soon after an arm was around your shoulder and another best friend at your side.

“Hey Jimin, how was your break?” you smiled up at him, seeing that gorgeous smile beam back down at you.

“Good, but I missed my girls…” Jimin pouted at you, then reached around to ruffle Taehyung’s curls. Tae just rolled his eyes and smirked. “You see Jungkook yet?” he asked.

“No, not yet. He’ll probably roll into class at the last second, as per usual. I haven’t heard from him over the break,” Tae rambled, missing Jimin’s tone entirely.

“No, I meant… he looks different… You’ll see,” Jimin smirked. You raised a quizzical eyebrow at him, but he just winked and returned his focus onto getting to class.

In the halls of your college campus, you split from the boys and waved them off at the performing arts department – Jimin was a dance major, specifically contemporary, and often had classes adjacent to Taehyung in the studios.

Your class however was held in one of the lecture theatres right at the other side of the block, so you walked through the corridors of chattering students, waving hellos to those that you knew from class or working on projects with other majors. Jin – Jimin’s frat leader – waved sweetly to you as he stood at the water fountain surrounded by girls wanting to hear everything about his ski vacation to Italy. Quite comical, really – like the alpha of a pack at the watering hole.

He may have been a ladies’ man at first glance, but he was a real sweetheart when you got him away from the herd. All those girls, and yet he was always very respectable, never hitting on them, simply enjoying the attention and remaining chivalrous. You smiled at him and waved back, a silent promise to check in with him when lunch kicked in.

Walking into your classroom, you weren’t expecting to see Jungkook ready and waiting for you in your usual spot in the fifth row – and you had been right. As if the boy could be on time, ever. All part of his charm, you suppose. So you slipped into your seat and waited for him, no doubt the last one in as the final bell rang out. You focussed on pulling out your laptop, logging into it and opening up a document to start your note taking.

Being a little early, you had time to scroll through your college emails like you obsessively did every day. You were so engrossed in your task, you hadn’t even noticed Jungkook walking into the room until he sat beside you.

“Hey, you,” he spoke softly as he sat down, pulling his headphones out of his ears. He always greeted you that way – a running joke from the start of college. He’d taken far too long to remember your name, and so when paired up with you on the first assignment, he fell short, simply addressing you as “you” whenever you would meet in the library to work. Now, it was almost a term of affection.

“Hey Kook-“ you started as you looked up, but your eyes widened, and your jaw dropped.

It had only been three weeks…where did all that hair come from? How was he now able to tie it back into an adorable little ponytail? And why did it bloody suit him so well? And… Oh my god, were those tattoos on his fingers?

This couldn’t be the same Jungkook, surely not? Last time you had seen him, his hair was getting longer sure, but not at all able to tie up. And he most certainly didn’t have hand tattoos, or any other tattoos that you were aware of. Jimin was the only person you knew with a tattoo…

And yet, as you studied the boy beside you setting up for the lesson, it was most definitely him. The same bunny-toothed smile and innocent wide eyes; the same all-black cargo pants with a chain and oversized sweater; the same dangly chain and hoops earring along his lobe and helix. Except with his hair like this and little tattoos to match, he looked – dare you say it – sexy…

“You know, with a little bit of eyeliner and a motorcycle, you may well be on your way to joining the cast of ‘Sons of Anarchy’,” you laughed. He grinned at that.

“Are you referring to the tattoos, or the epic man-bun?” He slunk back into his seat and smirked. “It’s not just my hand, you know…” He pushed his sleeve up to proudly show the multiple tattoos on his forearm; a skull hand, a floral design with lettering, some writing that your eyes followed to read ‘rather be dead than cool’. “More up here too but I’ll show you another time.”

“Where’s my sweet innocent little Kookie gone? I’m gonna have to think of a new nickname now…” you huffed, still admiring the black ink over his skin.

“You know I always wanted tattoos, well I got a bunch of money from family this Christmas, so I thought, screw it. If not now, then when?” he shrugged. Seemed like pretty sound logic to you, and you had to admit they were pretty awesome.

“Why this one?” you pointed at the flowers.

“Ah, my birth flower, tiger lilies. Korean meaning for them is ‘please love me’, so that’s-“

“Alright class, welcome back to the second semester. Hope you all enjoyed your break, but it’s back to work!” your professor started the class with a loud announcement, silencing Kook in the process. You’d have to get him to tell you about then more later.

*****

“Oh this one is just a Nirvana quote, I liked it. Song is called Stay Away. And the Ox is my birth year, the lilies my birth flower…” Jungkook was explaining his new ink to the group in the refectory hall, perched up on the table next to where you sat, where Jimin sat marvelling at the ink with his dance major best friend, Hoseok. On your table, Jin and Taehyung were catching up on the events of their winter breaks. Well… Jin was telling Taehyung all about his ski trip, of course.

You were just absentmindedly staring at Jungkook, sat on top of the table chatting away with Jimin. His hair was half up in that cute little ponytail, with dark tendrils falling into his eyes and framing his face. It suited him well, looked so soft and silky too. He looked so different and yet exactly the same. His sweetness hadn’t changed, his sense of humour hadn’t changed. And yet something felt different, and you couldn’t put your finger on it.

Next thing you knew, fingers were being snapped in front of your face and waking you from your little daydream.

“Earth to ______…” Jin called, still snapping. “Don’t you want to hear my epic tale of heroic skiing skills?” You pushed his hand out of your face and gave him your full attention.

“You know, fantasy’s not really my genre, Jin,” you remarked, earning an overly offended response.

“You should be kinder to your elders, young one. Especially when he’s the head of the best fraternity on campus and throwing the first back to school party of the semester this Friday that he can or cannot get you barred from, young lady!” he rattled off; of course he would never exclude you from a party, and he was only joking.

“Hey!” a voice boomed behind you, deep and fast approaching. And then said voice was sitting beside you and dumping his bag on the table, wrapping an arm around your shoulders in mock protection. “You could never exclude our fraternity sweetheart. She is the soul of every omega delta gamma event.”

“Precisely. Nice try, Jin,” you winked, turning to hug the new face at the table. “Hey Joon,” you greeted as he dropped his arm from your shoulders.

“Well then pay attention to me, _______! Instead of gawking at Jungkook’s new bad-boy get up. We get it, you want him. Now back to me please!” Oh god, this again.

“Will you shut up? I do not want Jungkook,” you scathed, lowering your voice to stop him from possibly overhearing from the next table. The others at the table giggled. “What?” you asked.

“Nothing, nothing…” Joon laughed. “So skiing, Jin?” You were grateful to Namjoon for taking the heat off you, now trying too hard to look like you were only paying attention to Jin.

“Yes, skiing…” Jin sat up straight and continued his story.

*****

“Pizza or fried chicken?” Taehyung asked as he scrolled through menus on his iPad, plopping down on the couch beside you in your apartment.

“Oooor, I could just cook?” you laughed.

“No, Miss Kill-joy… It’s been a long day of falling asleep in class and listening to Jin’s skiing trip stories over and over again. We’re ordering in.”

“Fine. Pizza,” you surrendered, flipping through show after show on Netflix. “We still haven’t finished season 3 of Stranger Things yet, feeling brave enough today?” you teased. Taehyung had always been a little too easy to frighten, and it was honestly a wonder he’d made it through the first two seasons without scaring himself silly.

“Oh god.. Uh, maybe? I’m getting pretty desperate to figure out what’s happening to Billy but like, do I really wanna know?” he didn’t even look up from his phone as he spoke, focussing on adding the toppings to his make-your-own pizza.

“If you get too scared, you can spend the night in my room with me, okay? Won’t let anything happen to my Tae-Tae,” you pouted dramatically, babying him with a pinch to his cheek that had him shrinking away from you and giggling like a child. “Oh, can I get a-“

“BBQ base, and a side of chicken wings. I got you,” he smirked. Damn, he knew you too well. “Put the damn show on, I’m a grown up now. Can handle it.”

“Tough words…” you laughed, flicking through the shows to land on Stranger Things, and hitting play.

It didn’t take long for Taehyung to be shrinking into a ball against the couch and hiding half his face behind a pillow. Poor thing, he was just too sensitive. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t enjoying it. It just meant he’d be curled up against you snoring and clutching your arm all night.

An episode in, and food had arrived. You grabbed some plates and empty glasses and created yourself a little feast on the coffee table in front of you. You figured the next episode could wait until you’d had something to eat.

“So tell me,” Taehyung started, cheeks full of pizza like a hamster hoarding nuts, “how’s the insane crush on our own adorable little bunny holding up now that he sports a man-bun and an arm of ink?”

“You’re really still on this, aren’t you?” you avoided the question and all eye contact with Taehyung, dipping your pizza crust into some ranch dressing and quickly shovelling it in so you wouldn’t have to do much more talking. But still, he pressed on.

“Oh my god, stop trying to cover it up. We all see it. Only person who doesn’t is Jungkook, which is insane, considering…” he raised his eyebrows and picked up a chicken wing, leaning back into the couch. Despite his already full hamster cheeks, he took a bite of the spicy wing.

“Considering what?” you asked curiously through chewing. He took a moment to answer, raising his finger to keep you silent and waiting impatiently while he swallowed.

“Considering how obvious you are, always staring at him when he’s not looking, always looking around to find him, asking after him. You practically swoon when he walks in a room, you laugh at all of his terrible jokes, and don’t think we didn’t all see you drooling at lunch. It’s just ironic, that neither of you realise…” he chuckled to himself, taking another large bite of a pizza slice he picked up in his free hand, practically shovelling the food in.

“Neither of us? What do you mean?” you asked, confused. Tae froze on the spot, a string of cheese latched between his teeth and stuck to the end of the pizza he’d just bitten into. It stretched and broke off from the slice, dangling comically from his lips. But neither of you laughed.

He took his time reeling in the string of cheese, proceeding to take forever to chew his mouthful, clearly stalling for time before swallowing overdramatically.

“Just meant like… neither of you notice that you’re drooling over him, y’know? Yeah, that’s it.” He wouldn’t look you in the eye, quickly shovelling another mouthful of pizza in his mouth to avoid having to speak further on the matter.

“You know for an acting major, you’re a terrible liar…” you scoffed, folding your arms over your chest as you turned your whole body to face him on the couch. “What did you really mean?”

Tae sighed. He could never lie to you, not really. You knew him too well for that, spent too much time with him to know his tells. And truly, he was a really terrible liar when it came to his friends. He dropped the pizza back into the box and turned to you, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and swallowing the latest mouthful.

“I’m just saying, we all see the way you drool over Jungkook, but like… it’s more, isn’t it? You don’t just wanna screw his brains out, you’ve been falling for him since day one when he wondered into your lecture hall like a lost puppy. We all know It, ______… We talk about it all the time. And it’s just… it’s ironic ‘cause… well….” His eyes darted up to look at you, finding your expression to be a mix of both realisation and confusion in one.

And he’d be right. How on earth had it taken someone literally telling you that you liked Jungkook, to realise that, well… you bloody liked Jungkook! How far did this thing go? How deep did these feelings sit? Have they always been there? Did they grow over time? Is it just a crush or is it more than that?

But it made sense. You had always found him cute, sometimes attractive – hell, even sexy sometimes… But most girls did, he was Jeon Jungkook. Except that didn’t explain why you always wanted him around, why you always thought of him first when someone asked about your friends, why you were often caught out staring at him by the others. There was something more… Oh god, there were feelings involved.

You snapped back to reality, reminding yourself that somehow Taehyung wasn’t finished speaking…

“Wh-why is it ironic?” you stuttered, not even bothering to deny his claims any longer.

“Because to all of us it’s also painfully obvious how much he likes you too…” he said sheepishly, slowly so as not to shock you too much.

“N-no he doesn’t,” you protested weakly. He couldn’t, he’d never shown any signs.“Oh _______… yes, he does. I can’t understand how you both haven’t realised, it’s painfully obvious to all of us. Jimin said he’d asked about you the second he got back to the frat after vacation. He always talks about you. They ask him how his class went, and he’ll reply like ‘oh yeah it was good, _____ did this, _____ did that, _____ made me laugh so hard today’. It’s adorable but Jimin said he barely talks about anything else.

“Funny thing is, you stare at him when he’s not looking, and he stares at you when you’re not looking. We laugh about it all the time, it’s kinda funny to watch. I honestly don’t know how you can function alone together in class,” he laughs, shaking his head at the image of you both automatically turning your heads periodically.

“But... He…” you shook your head trying to think of excuses for him, but you were drawing a blank.

“I mean he actually told Hobi he liked you about a month ago when he was drunk. Hobi said he was crying into a bucket and whining about how he’d never have you and he just likes you soooo much between hurling,” Tae laughed at his own impression of Jungkook weeping. You couldn’t help yourself then.

You leaned forward and slapped his shoulder, followed by another slap and another, all cushioned by his hoodie and barely enough to hurt anyway, just to annoy.

“Ow, hey! HEY! What- What’s that for? Ow!” he cried dramatically as you knelt over him, slapping his arm out of pure frustration.

“YOU,” slap, “NEVER,” slap, “TOLD ME?!” you yelled. “You knew all this time I liked him, and you said NOTHING?!” you sat back on your heels running your hands through your hair totally exasperated.

“Well I assumed you knew that at least you had feelings for him, Jesus! It’s so obvious!”

“And when he said he liked me you didn’t think to bloody tell me?!” you scoffed, indignant.

“Well he was drunk, and he didn’t remember in the morning so…” Tae rubbed his arm dramatically.

You rested your elbows on your knees and buried your head in your hands. You had to figure out what to do with this information, if you should do anything at all. God, you’d been fawning over him since Freshman year. No wonder they’d teased you about it constantly in the last few months… You felt like a fool. You hadn’t even realised you were crying until the first silent tear rolled down your cheek.

Taehyung said nothing then, pulling you to lean on him with an arm around your shoulder. He rubbed your back and kissed your forehead like a good friend should, comforting without having to say a word.

“I feel stupid, Tae…” you whined into his shoulder.

“No, sweetie, I’m the stupid one. Should have said something sooner. I’m sorry…” he held you with both arms then, feeling a surge of guilt for keeping such information from his best friend.

In your head, you tried to think of any signs you might have missed, anything at all that proved what Tae was saying. And although they’d made fun of you for liking him all this time, you knew he would never, ever lie to you about something like this. Especially not with your tears soaking into his hoodie.

You needed to do something about this. You needed to say something to Jungkook, maybe to be a little (a lot) more obvious. Either way, now that you knew he liked you, you couldn’t simply sit on this information. Time had been wasted already…

*****

You were gonna do it. You were gonna tell him, that very morning, just after class let out for lunch. You’d pull him to the side, explain you wanted to talk to him. Go somewhere quiet. Tell him the truth.

At least, that had been your plan. But the second he walked in as the final bell rang that morning and sat beside you, you lost your nerve. Now suddenly, you had to deal with butterflies attacking your insides, and an inability to act natural around him. Awesome.

“Hey, you,” he smiled as he sat down beside you, as always. Only today you couldn’t muster a genuine smile back, just a nervous half smile. And he noticed. “Whoa, what’s up?” He put his hand on yours that rested in your lap and you flinched a little from him, like his had was made of hot coals. He held his hands up, staring at you with wide bunny eyes like you’d trodden on his tail.

“S-sorry, bit jumpy today I guess…” Smooth, _______. Real smooth. “Nightmare last night,” you lied.

“Oh, I’m sorry… need a hug?” he opened his arms to you and of course, you couldn’t say no to that. So you shuffled along the bench of the amphitheatre and slotted into his arms, curled up in a little ball and tensing up as soon as his arms wrapped around you and hugged you to his chest. You weren’t sure if he could tell you were tensed up or not, but to you it was painfully obvious.

“Alright class, we have assignment marks to discuss!” your professor started his talk, and Jungkook reluctantly let go of you, letting you straighten up and open your laptop to take down your notes. But he kept his eye on you the whole time, watching with concern at your sudden stiff manor around him. Had he done something wrong?

*****

“Taehyung it’s been three days and I don’t know how to act around him anymore! Help me. You did this. You fix this,” you paced in front of his little desk in the student union, where he spent Thursday afternoons working.

“Uh, this isn’t my fault. You could ha-“ You lost your cool, dramatically slamming your hands down on his desk and leaning down to be eye level with him. He shut up immediately.

“Fix. It,” you demanded.

“Okay, okay… Uh, there’s a party tomorrow right? Jin’s party? At the fraternity?” he scrambled for ideas.

“Oh no, tell me you’re not serious. No, this is like some cheesy Netflix teen movie or something,” you groaned, pushing off his desk and pacing yet again.

“Yeah well it’s the best I’ve got, okay? So just… I don’t know, ask him to dance, get him a drink, take him to one side, talk to him. If it goes wrong, blame it on the alcohol. Yes, it’s a cliché. But clichés are clichés for a reason,” he tried to convince you, and unfortunately, it was starting to work…

“If this backfires, I’m holding you solely responsible,” you warned, pointing your finger accusingly.

“Okay, yes, fine, whatever,” he shook you off, turning his attention back to the calendar of student activities that he’d been working on for this semester. “You should wear that black dress, the one with the mesh layer. He likes that one.” Just how much info did Taehyung have on Jungkook’s little crush on you?

“Oh for god’s sake,” you rolled your eyes and grabbed your bag, stomping back to the cafeteria to find Namjoon or Jimin; anyone but your infuriating best friend.

*****

“I’m telling you, the dress was the right choice,” Tae tried to convince you as he escorted you the few blocks to the campus where the frat house was. Your arm was linked with his as if you were a couple from the 50’s on a stroll along the beach; very typical Tae.

“And how is it you know so much about which of my dresses Jungkook likes the most?” you asked suspiciously.

“Well last time you wore this was when we all met up in summer right? And we went to that club? He couldn’t take his eyes off you. He turned to me and said, ‘she looks good tonight, right?’ I just agreed and let him carry on staring while you danced with Hobi and Yoongi.”

“Oh, is Yoongi coming tonight? I miss him!” your attention was diverted to the friend who had decided college wasn’t for him, and he was going to pursue a career in DJing instead.

“Yeah he’s bringing his decks, you know how he is.” Indeed you did; always had a decent mix for any kind of party.

Turning the corner to head down the street of sororities and fraternities, you could already hear the bass from Yoongi’s speakers blaring and lights flashing in the large bay window at the front of the house. Already in full swing, then.

Inside, the whole ground floor was littered with bodies all drinking and dancing already. Looking around, you could see a few people you knew, but none of your closer friends just yet. Only Yoongi, set up with his decks in the corner of the large living room. You dragged Tae over to him first.

“Hey _____! How’s life?” he yelled over the music, putting an arm around you for a side hug and lightly bumping fists with Tae, beer in hand.

“Good, good. Seen any of the others yet?”

“Uh, Jin was setting up a keg in the other room, with the pool table in? Namjoon was with him. No idea about the others.” He took a gulp of beer, fiddling with some buttons in front of him. “Here,” he yelled, hitting the top of a bottle of beer on the edge of his mixing desk to get the cap off, handing it to you.

“Thanks! I’m gonna go find the others, say hi.”

“Alright doll, come dance later okay? I’ll play that mix I made for your birthday,” he smiled his adorable gummy smile, patting your elbow lightly and turning back to his decks, holding his headphones to his ear as he bobbed his head to the heavy bass.

Tae stuck by Yoongi’s side, catching up on lost time with him. Tae was fond of Yoongi, looked up to him like a big brother he rarely got to see. You made your way through the hordes of students into the room you expected to find Jin, and low and behold there he was feeding Namjoon from the keg. Whilst you were glad to see them, that wasn’t who you wanted to find… You wanted to find Jungkook.

“Save some for the rest, Joon!” you laughed as he held the end of the pipe.

“_____! You made it!” he cheered, hugging you with his free arm.

“Have I ever missed one of these?” you laughed, comfortably tucked under his arm and playfully hitting his chest.

“Touché,” he grinned.

“You guys seen Kookie?” you asked, trying to seem casual. The pair just smiled to each other, thinking you weren’t in on the joke still.

“Kitchen, I think. But have a drink with us first, he’s gonna be around somewhere. Pay attention to us,” Jin whined, clearly making fun of you again. You didn’t even argue, taking a few gulps of the beer Yoongi had handed to you. You chatted to them for a while, joining in with the chants and cheers of people brave enough to do keg stands with Jin, at least until your drink was empty, and you had an excuse to leave and find Jungkook.

The kitchen had people in too, same as every other room and the room was only lit by the flashing lights of the living room. You spotted Jungkook on the other side of the room, leaning against the worktop with a beer in one hand and his phone in the other. He was alone, a perfect opportunity to get him out into the yard, or somewhere quieter at least.

He looked so good tonight… Wet look black jeans clinging to his muscular thighs, a black shirt with red dots all over tucked into them, a few buttons undone. Necklaces dangling against the exposed skin at the top of his chest, hair down and flowing freely, showing off just how long it really had become. And his sleeves were short, showing off his new ink properly for the first time… There was no denying the attraction you felt to him anymore, that was for sure.

The same butterflies you’d been feeling around him all week were rising, frantically fluttering against your stomach as heat rose to your cheeks. You hadn’t even noticed you yet, but you could feel your hands getting sweatier.

But you could do this. It was Jungkook. Even if he really didn’t feel the same way, he would never be cruel about it, never laugh at you or yell at you. You had nothing to be afraid of. It would hurt if he didn’t want you, but your friendship would survive; you knew it.

He briefly looked up from his phone, eyes finding you. Immediately, his body stood upright, sending you an awkward smile; that was your fault. You’d been acting weird all week, ever since your epiphany with Taehyung. But you smiled back, trying to look as natural as possible.

You lifted your empty beer bottle and mouthed ‘want one?’ at him, to which he nodded. You smiled and headed to the large fridge freezer, picking out two bottles for the both of you, but when you turned back, you almost dropped them both to the ground…

A girl had wondered up to Jungkook, a prettier, popular girl from one of the sororities. She’d snatched his attention away, playfully touching his hair and tracing his tattoos with her delicate fingers. She leaned into him, her lips devilishly close to his ear. She was clearly whispering something flirty to him, his eyes widening a little and his cheeks turning pink. And then she started to nibble at his earlobe…

You caught his gaze again for a second, and his eyes widened even more. Could he see the shock on your face? The tears brimming in your eyes and blurring your vision? Could he see your knuckles turning white against the necks of the bottles in your hands?

You couldn’t watch any more, putting the bottles down on the kitchen island in front of you and hastily exiting the kitchen with hot tears starting to spill. You were gonna do it, you really were. But who were you kidding? The sight of another pretty girl, a prettier girl, was all it took to divert his attention. Tae had been wrong; he must have been.

You didn’t feel much like partying anymore…

Without stopping, you walked straight to the front door and out onto the street, disappearing from the party without so much as a wave to any of the others. You hadn’t even seen Jimin or Hoseok yet, but you didn’t care. You needed to get out, to go home. To be alone and sob to your heart’s content.

The air outside was cold, biting at your skin as you stumbled the few blocks home, wiping your cheeks and trying to hold it together until you were safely in the confides of your own home. It didn’t take long, and before you knew it you were stumbling up the stairs in your ankle boots and struggling to fit the key in the door.

You shut it behind you and leaned against it, hitting your head on the wood and freely letting the tears and the sobs rattle through you. How stupid you felt, how naïve… You just got used to the idea you had feelings for him, how dare the universe now give you heartbreak just a few days later. What kind of bullshit karma crap was that?!

You let yourself sob against the door for a moment as you found some composure, enough to realise you just wanted to get into some comfy sweats and a hoodie and eat whatever crap you could find in your refrigerator. You didn’t stop the tears but took a few steps further into your apartment, when some loud knocks rang out on the door behind you.

You jumped a little, startled by the noise and furiously started wiping the tears away. Taehyung must have seen you leave, must have followed you home to comfort you knowing that it hadn’t gone well with Jungkook. He’d feel so awful, probably blame himself for getting your hopes up or something. But he’d have the warm hugs you needed right now.

But then, Taehyung lived here. Why would he be knocking?

You stepped towards the door and opened it slightly, peaking through the crack so see who had been rasping on the wood moments before.

As if the world was playing some sick joke on you, Jungkook was stood there, his face looking sad and his fingers fiddling with each other.

What you hadn’t seen, was the way he stopped that girl at the party as soon as he saw the look on your face, as soon as he saw you dump the beers and turn. He saw the look on your face, and suddenly it had all clicked into place for him. You liked him too. And his heart had dropped into his stomach. He tried to follow you, getting stuck behind a couple of the jocks from the neighbouring frat house, and tailing behind you trying to shout your name over the heavy bass of Yoongi’s mix.

The second he saw your reddened eyes he stepped forward, pushing his way into the apartment, giving the door a kick shut behind him and cupping your jaw in his hands, using his thumbs to wipe your tears away. He smiled weakly at you, already aware that it was his fault you were crying, his fault you had left.

“Hey, you,” he said softly, his tone so affectionate, so worried and full of care as he looked into your eyes. They brimmed again at his words; they just sounded so sweet coming from him, like you were the only person in the whole world he’d want to say hello to at all.

But you stood frozen, biting down on your lip to stop a sob from erupting from your throat. All you could do was look up at him, his hands holding your face up towards him as his thumbs stroked over your cheeks. His eyes were searching yours in the silence, like he was trying to find confirmation or a sign or something, but you just weren’t sure.

But before you could even try to compose yourself enough to speak, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours so softly, so cautiously, lingering for a second and waiting for you to push him away, to slap him or scream at him for getting the wrong idea – but he hadn’t and you both knew that.

So when he parted from your lips and looked back down at you, he saw your small smile, the tears spilling yet again, the deep breaths you were taking. In such close proximity, he could practically hear your heart threatening to beat out of your chest and feel the way your cheeks had heated up under his hands.

And he couldn’t deny himself anymore.

He leaned in again, this time with more purpose, more aggression, his lips crashing with yours only this time you were ready for him, matching his desperation, his urgency. Your hands gripped his shirt, pulling him closer. You couldn’t seem to get close enough, not even when your chest pressed against his.

Finally, after months of unrecognised feelings towards him, Jungkook was here and he wanted you. You didn’t care about anything else, couldn’t focus on anything else but the way his lips felt against yours, the way his hair felt silky soft brushing up against your forehead.

His hands slid into your hair, fingertips grazing over your scalp and adding a layer of bliss to the way he kissed you. One of your hands slip up his chest and wrapped around his neck to draw him in even more. He groaned against your lips, and if the stirring in your chest was anything to go by, you knew where you wanted this to go.

You just wanted him.

Without disconnecting your kiss, you stumbled backwards, dragging him with you through the hall of your small apartment. You stumbled together, your back hitting your bedroom door as his hand flew out to turn the doorknob for you. The pair of you shuffled into your room, Jungkook kicking the door shut once again.

His hands dropped from your hair and flew to his shirt buttons, hastily undoing them one by one as you took the opportunity to separate from your kiss to undo the zip at the side of your dress and shuffle out of the mesh over-layer and the straps of the black dress underneath. You pushed it down around your waist, breasts still hidden from view by the black bra you’d worn that evening.

Jungkook flung the shirt from his body, immediately stepping towards you again to grip your bare waist in his hands and reconnect your lips fiercely. Both your arms wrapped around his neck and you pulled him towards you as you stepped further and further back, until the backs of your knees hit your bed and you tumbled backwards with him still locked on your kiss.

Everything was happening fast, everything was heated and desperate but after so long denying your feelings for him – and unbeknownst to you, him denying his feelings for you too – you felt like there was just no time to waste.

His lips found their way to your jawline, kissing and nipping at the skin from under your ear down to your chin, and continuing down your throat. He took his time, his hands working through your hair again as you moaned under his assault on your neck. It felt so good – he felt so good. You couldn’t help your hands reaching between you both to unbuckle the belt holding his jeans up, making light work of the button and zipper soon after. You could already feel the large bulge formed in the now open crotch of his jeans, and it stirred a heat between your legs that had already been steadily building.

Jungkook’s lips travelled further down, between the valley of your breasts to mouth and bite and suckle at the fullness on display above the cup of your bra. He reached underneath you to unclasp it, while you worked the straps down and threw it to one side. His mouth immediately latched onto your nipple, his hand massaging the other as he tweaked and flicked the nub over and over again.

Your moans sounded obscene, breathy and whiny under the pleasure he was giving you. You couldn’t help the way your hips rolled up to grind against the prominent bulge you’d uncovered earlier; you needed some kind of friction now that the uncomfortable sticky feeling in your panties was only worsening.

No words were exchanged at all – and certainly no time wasted on teasing you – as the hand on your breast slid between you both and pulled the remnants of the mesh dress and the tight underdress down, both of you kicking it off to let it land in a pile at the bottom of the bed. His waist slotted neatly between your thighs and his hand cupped your sex, middle finger toying with the wet lace of the underwear you had on.

“Oh, Jungkook…” you whined, breathless and lost in the bliss of both his mouth working your breasts and his hand dipping past the lace to swirl around your throbbing clit. Hearing you whine his name was something he’d admit to only dreaming about in the past, his brain daring him to think of all the things he wanted to do with you, all the ways he could make you create that exact sound for him over and over again. It was music to his ears.

It only seemed to rile him up further, fingers moving faster and expertly toying with your clit just a little more, until he slid them down to circle your entrance and slowly push two inside you. The stretch felt magnificent, and by this stage you were already turned on enough to be able to take both with no issues.

Jungkook groaned against your breast, a wave of arousal pulsing through his veins at the way you felt on his fingers, imagining with absolute clarity just how you’d feel on his cock too. He curled his fingers and hit your g-spot with each downward stroke of his hand, having you thread your hands in his hair in desperation to grip onto something, anything.

“P-please, Kookie… Need you,” you panted, begging to feel him completely, to be totally immersed in the pleasure of him and him alone. How could he deny you of that?

He sat up on his knees immediately, pushing his jeans and boxers down to his knees and swivelling his hips to sit enough to push them off along with his black Chelsea boots. You kicked your shoes off as he did, shuffling yourself out of your panties and leaving you both totally exposed to each other.

He took a moment to turn his head back to you, to look into your eyes properly and just admire how you looked right now. Your hair was messed up, matted to your forehead with sweat much like his was. You had dark rims under your eyes where your make up had pooled from your tears and streaks in your foundation to match. Your neck was red and in places, a little bruised from his own handiwork. And he had never, ever thought you looked so beautiful.

His expression twisted into a smile, his eyes squinting and his bunny teeth gleaming in the low light of the street coming in through the window. It was all you could do to smile back, resting on your hands as he slowly crept up the bed towards you, the happiness exuding from both of you, the knowing relief you shared with each other. You parted your legs for him to slot between, letting him hover over you and slowly lean in for another deep kiss.

You lay back down, Jungkook following to never once break your connection. His hands roamed from your thighs up to your waist, holding onto you as your lips moving in perfect unison, slower than before but still incredibly heated. You’d never been kissed like this, never been held like this or touched like this. He was making every single touch count.

You rolled your hips up against him again – a sure signal that you were ready, you wanted him – and felt his rigid length brush against your folds. Reaching between you both, Jungkook gripped himself at the base and slowly, began to push inside you. Your kiss separated just barely for him to groan in absolute gratification, lips just barely grazing yours. He pressed his forehead with yours and shut his eyes, revelling in the way you felt.

There was no denying his girth, and yet still there was no pain or discomfort to be felt. He eased himself in slowly, gave you a chance to adjust, and as soon as you started to kiss him once again his hips began to rock.

His hair fell into his eyes, descending past his ears and doused in a light layer of sweat from the heat inside your small bedroom. The pendants and necklaces he had worn that night dangled above you, swaying backwards and forward with each thrust he made. His freshly healed tattoos were now on full display to you, and you could help but to reach out and touch them.

Each thrust just felt like it was meant to be, like he was supposed to fill you this way, you were supposed to fit together like pieces of a jigsaw. You reached up to tuck his hair behind his ear, showing more of his face to you. In the dim streetlight, he looked so perfect, so absolutely stunning as he clearly became consumed by nothing other than you. You placed a hand flat against his chest, wrapping the other around his neck and bringing his lips closer to you so you could reach up for them again.

As your bodies writhed against each other, moan after moan escaping you both and being muffled by intermittent kisses, you knew right then that this was exactly how it should be. You loved him. And he loved you.

“K-Kookie?” you stuttered your voice a higher pitch than usual. His thrusts were become more dynamic with every passing second, and yet never speeding past a pleasurable roll of his hips. He struggled to open his eyes and tear himself about from his paradise, but he did so, looking down into your eyes.

“Y-yeah, baby?” he huffed, his breath laboured and voice stifling another groan. He pressed his forehead to yours for stability, keeping his hazy eyes on yours.

“I… I love you, Kookie…” you cried against his lips, another tear escaping down the side of you face. He smiled then; an out of breath, exhausted and relieved kind of smile as he continued to roll his hips into you, having you whimpering as your bit down on your lip.

“I love you too, ____…” he grinned, his eyes fluttering closed, “Oh, fuck, I love you so much.”

You threaded your hands in his hair again, bringing his lips up to yours and colliding them in potentially the most passionate kiss of your damn life, moans and whimpers included. His hand slid between you, fingertips concentrating on coaxing a delightful and euphoric orgasm out of you with targeted strokes to your clit.

With a new level of ungodly satisfaction, you couldn’t control your lips anymore and broke the kiss, just holding him close to you with parted lips and moaning wantonly as your eyes rolled back. You’d never felt an orgasm approach so fast in all your life, never felt it hit you the way this did.

Your legs spasmed and shook in his grasp, hands tightening in his hair. Your moans caught in your throat, unable to move while every muscle contracted. You couldn’t be sure of it in the moment, but Jungkook sure noticed the way you clenched and gushed around him as you came. And with each contraction dragging against his length inside you and you finally delivering a loud and high pitched moan, you brought him to his edge too.

His hips slowed and stuttered as hot spurts of cum painted your walls, more than he ever had before. He tried to keep rolling his hips, to get every last bit of pleasure he could before exhaustion took over and he collapsed next to you, head buried in the crook of your neck and chest half laying on you.

Both of you were utterly drained of energy, breaths heavy and hot against the other’s bare skin. It felt incredible. It felt perfect. It felt just as it should.

It could have been minutes, or it could have been hours that passed by, both of you simply becoming comfortable laying in a heap of sweaty nudity – you simply didn’t care. You had Jungkook now, right here with you. And he loved you.

You weren’t sure of the time, nor did you mind, but the two of you fell asleep laid together that night. Jungkook had rolled onto his back, dragging you onto his chest and pulling the messy sheet up to cover you both. With one final drawn out kiss, the pair of you lay in peaceful contentment and drifted off.

*****

Next morning, you awoke to the sun streaming directly into your eyes; you hadn’t closed the drapes last night. Your groaned and turned away from it, stretching your limbs out onto the rest of the empty bed, and- wait, empty? No, no… Had you… had you dreamt your night with Jungkook? Had he left without a word? Did he regret what had happened?

You sat upright, clutching the sheets to your chest. You were still nude, your clothes still strewn about the place; but Jungkook’s were gone.

He must have just decided to leave.

A knock on your bedroom door drew your attention away from your sadness, and a rather smug looking Taehyung wondered in before you had the chance to turn him away. He sat at the end of your bed with his arms folded and a smile you grimaced at in disgust.

“Mooooooornin’,” he teased. You wanted to kick him off the bed.

“Shut up,” you groaned.

“See? Told you he liked you! Can’t tell me that that wasn’t Jungkook I saw you naked-cuddling with when I got in last night,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Yeah, well I hope he had fun. He’s done a runner this morning,” you accused. Taehyung was about to object, when a key jingling by your front door sounded, the door opened and closed, and footsteps drew closer down the hallway. And then who should come into view, but none other than Jeon Jungkook sporting the outfit he had on last night and brandishing a brown paper bag with some rather ominous grease stains on, and two hot coffees in a holder. He must have stolen one of your hair ties, because most of his locks were back in a bun again save for the front pieces parted in the middle.

His face looked a picture; the deer in headlights cliché. His wide eyes darted between you and Tae, and all Tae did was smirk at you.

“Go away, Taehyung,” you flatlined, shooing him with a foot to his leg. He held his hands up in defeat and stood, walking past Jungkook and out into the hall.

Jungkook snapped out of his shock and confusion to put the coffees on your nightstand and the bag next to it. He sat down on the edge, turning slightly to face you.

“Hey, you,” he smiled, his eyes soft and adoring. He tucked a strand of your bed hair behind your ear, leaning forward to place a kiss to your forehead. You tucked your knees to your chest and smiled shyly.

“Thought you’d done a runner,” you joked.

“Could never do that to you. Just wanted to get you breakfast in bed; least I can do for making you think I was flirting with one of the sorority girls.”

“Oh, no it’s okay… I just…. Yeah, I don’t know,” you laughed at yourself, feeling pretty stupid for not even giving him a chance to push her away before you jumped to conclusions.

“Hey,” he said softly, shuffling closer to you. “I, uh… I haven’t even looked at another girl since I met you, _____. Never wanted to, I never noticed anyone but you…” he confessed, shyly looking down at a spec of fluff on your sheets.

“I can’t believe I had no idea… I didn’t even realise I liked you like that until Taehyung kinda let it slip…” you chuckled, fiddling with the ends of his hair dangling in his eyes.

“You’re welcome!” you heard Tae shout from the kitchen, clearly eavesdropping with your door still wide open. Jungkook stood up to shut it, just a little harder than average in response to Tae’s mischievous meddling and then came and sat back down beside you.

“Well, we have some lost time to make up for, then,” he smiled, leaning in for a gentle and purely loving kiss, lingering a few moments, just enjoying finally having each other. You pulled apart with a shy giggle. “But first, breakfast!” He leaned over to pick up the bag, unpacking the bagels and hash browns he’d picked up from the diner around the corner.

You watched him, just how cute and attentive he was being with you. He was the same Jungkook, always had been this way with you. But now, you knew why, and it all made sense. It all fit together.

“Yes, breakfast.”

179 notes · View notes

tooomuchtofu · 4 years ago

Text

It’s denial at first, Tubbo thinks in retrospect, that kept him upright where he sat. Denial, along with a healthy dose of the same sort of emotional vacancy that’s gotten him through the past few years in this fucked up world.

He sees the message on his communicator—of course he does, so does everyone—but his eyes skim over it. It’s just another accident. A bit too long of a fall. A friendly spar. An argument gone sideways. It didn’t stick, surely; whoever’s name he just read in chat felt the death slither down around them like a shed layer of snakeskin, stepped into another life just as easily as taking another breath. Whoever that was is probably sitting up in bed right now.

It’s fine. It’s alright. Never mind the buzzing that’s started at the base of his skull. Ranboo cracks a joke and he laughs. Jack pokes his head out the doors of the Big Innit Hotel, shooting Tubbo a wary look. Tubbo nocks another arrow and the door slams shut. He puts the bow away.

His hand drifts back to his communicator, because of course it does. He picks it off his belt, flicks it on and glances at the messages. Did he see that right?

Tubbo has to blink before the screen focuses, his eyes blurring. He’s never been a great reader, really. Even after he’s picked his way past every letter, though, the message above Jack’s most recent death blurs still. The words have flipped themselves on their heads, twisted into monstrous glyphs. Maybe Ranboo sent something in enderspeak. Maybe he’s asleep.

“Guys, I think Tommy just died,” is what he hears himself say.

Maybe he did read that wrong. Maybe he did. Ranboo’s hand on his shoulder—out of nowhere, wasn’t Ranboo just on the other side of the path?—is the only thing aside from the letters. He still can’t make them out. He blinks again. That might help.

“Oh my gosh,” Ranboo says, and for a breath, the death message might be real. He can feel his fingers shaking, can feel the cold edge of the communicator where he holds it.

“Wasn’t he like, your best friend or something?” It’s Jack Manifold. Tubbo doesn’t know when he came outside.

Tubbo stands, then, from where he’d, at some point, sat on a stray piece of scaffolding. Everything is all bright colors. All of it. There’s sun in his eyes. He thinks it might hurt. He’s looking at it. The white is better than the red or the blue or the green or the tawny, rough oak beneath his feet, because all of that is real. And this isn’t real.

Ranboo is in front of him. He’s taller. Tubbo can’t see the sun anymore. A shame. It was nice and bright.

Ranboo is real, too. Black and white like a panda or a cookie or something. Red and green, black and white, rumpled suit and prickly ears. Tubbo giggles. Maybe Ranboo isn’t real; his whole face is speckles with black, swimming and swirling. That doesn’t usually happen.

“Tubbo, are you okay? Tubbo, why are you laughing?” Ranboo’s brows are all drawn and furrowed. He looks so worried. But that’s okay. That’s okay.

“Ranboo, you silly… silly man…” Tubbo reaches up, lets his hands find his husband’s, his friend’s, ears, feels the weird fuzzy spots at their bases.

Ranboo flinches back, grabbing Tubbo’s wrists and pushing them down. “No—Tubbo, why—” He makes a weird hissy sound. Silly funny enderman. “Do you need to sit down?”

“No, it’s fine! I’m alright, big man.” He rubs his hands down his face, pulling at the scar tissue across his nose and jaw. He remembers when he got those scars. Tommy was there. He sat in Tubbo’s room in Pogtopia every night after for weeks. He always woke Tubbo up whenever Tubbo started screaming. That was a permanent death, the festival was. Tubbo is one slip away from dying. So is Tommy. But they’ll be okay, because Dream is in prison. It’s all okay now. Tubbo’s palms are sweaty and sticky, so he takes them off his face.

“What the hell happened?” Ranboo mutters, fiddling with his communicator. Tubbo isn’t sure he’s ever heard Ranboo say “hell” before. That’s kind of funny. They’ve pretty much spent the entirety of the past few weeks together. Ranboo doesn’t seem to swear much. Tubbo hasn’t done anything but hang out with Ranboo since Tommy finished his hotel. They’ve barely left each other’s sides. Ranboo and Tubbo, Tubbo and Ranboo.

“Tubbo. Hey, Tubbo.” Ranboo’s hands are on his shoulders again. “Tubbo, where are we?”

Tubbo hums under his breath. “We are on the Prime Path, big man.” Outside the Bee and Boo. It’s very bright today. Everything looks a little blurry, though.

“Sam says he’s at the prison,” Ranboo says. “Do you want to go talk to Sam?”

“Sounds good.” Tubbo looks over at the prison. It’s just past Skeppy’s mansion. The prison, where Dream is. Something… something is wrong. He thinks.

As he follows Ranboo down the path, he frowns, trying to remember what it is. Something… wrong. At the prison.

“Wait, but Sam hasn’t died,” he says. “Sam is still there. Dream is still in Pandora’s Vault.” As long as Dream is in prison, they are all safe. Everything is fine. Everything is perfect. They won. They have the discs. It is okay now.

“Yes,” Ranboo says.

The approach is long, with the path he walks stretching into infinity. It seems forever that they spend walking towards the prison’s hulking shape. Sam is waiting for them when they get there.

“I made a mistake,” he says in a shaking voice. “I’m so sorry. Tommy is… Tommy’s dead.”

And Tubbo is seventeen years old. He is standing in the world he calls home near the path his best friend built out of oak, standing next to his friend-husband-business partner, and he is not crying, because Tommy cannot be dead. Because Tommy does not die. Because Tommy survives. It is what he does.

And Tubbo did not spend the last week his friend spent in prison falling in platonic love, building a hotel, playing chess, singing and cracking jokes and making pancakes and playing his ukulele. Because Tommy is not in prison, because there is no reason for him to be, and if he is, there’s nothing Tubbo can do anyway, is there? What is there, really, for Tubbo to do, aside from forget what has him curled up in his bed some nights, hugging himself as tight as he can so his stomach will stop eating itself out of helpless guilt? And now everything is fine, because the time is up, and Tommy is fine, because Tommy is always fine, even when there’s lava and holes and fireworks and Dream.

Tubbo is not crying. That is not a lie, but maybe it is wrong nonetheless.

xxx

To Tubbo, Dream has not taken all of Tommy’s lives until Tommy is standing outside the hotel the next morning.

He does not remember falling asleep, but it must have happened somehow, because he has just woken up. He has a splitting headache and an aching heart and dry, blurry eyes, and he thinks he’s seeing things at first.

Tommy is staring up at his own hotel, but he turns around when Tubbo opens the door, grinning when he sees him.

“Big man!” he shouts. “You seen this thing yet? Pretty proud of it, I am.” Tommy’s grin is glinting white, his face greyish, his hair silvery pale. He is soft and fuzzy and not-all-there. Tubbo blinks once. Twice. And then he is crying.

Sitting on the path, crying. His face is in his hands and Tommy’s touch on his back is cold and staticky. Tubbo remembers when Tommy’s touch was warm, like fire, glowy and bright and wonderful for a cold winter’s night.

“Tubbo? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Tubbo gasps in a breath, chest spasming for air. His face is drenched and raw. There is a gaping hole in his chest, his ribs shattered into jagged knives. It is Technoblade with withers and fireworks and TNT laying waste to his heart. Tubbo does not move when someone cold and full and real picks him up, cradles him in too-long arms, and lays him on a bed. Tubbo does not move. Tommy is not fine.

xxx

“I didn’t come,” Tubbo forces out one day when everything is numb again. He’s sitting in the Big Innit Hotel’s lobby, slumped in a chair beside the front desk. He’s still wearing his Snowchester jacket, fiddling with the strings of one of the buttons. He’s vaguely aware of red concrete stone bricks and Tommy’s faint form somewhere in his periphery, but it’s mostly just the button and the string. “I’m sorry.

“What do you mean?” Tommy asks. He’s sitting behind the desk, ready for customers. He’s usually ready for customers these days, when he isn’t committing arson or wandering up and down the Prime Path or sitting on a bench on a hill, hands fidgety and unsure, like he’s missing something. That is, if he’s to believe Ranboo: Tubbo hasn’t left the Bee and Boo much. Ranboo says that’s what Tommy’s been doing, though.

A few people have even stayed in the hotel. People will stop by to visit, to see if it’s true, to say hi to Tommy or to talk to Tubbo or just to gawk, even, and usually end up staying in a room at Tommy’s insistence.

Tommy always acts like he’s going to charge them for it, but he never actually does. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t need money. Maybe he just forgets. He forgets a lot of things.

“In prison,” Tubbo mutters. “Sam might’ve let me in. I didn’t even try.” There are tears at the corners of his eyes, suddenly, but he rubs them away. He’s sick and tired of having a wet face. It’s sticky and awful and he always ends up with a headache and a stuffy nose.

“...What are you on about?” Tubbo glances up. Tommy is giving him an odd look. “Prison? Dream is the only one in prison. We put him in there, remember? I kicked his ass with the—with—” He frowns, making a swinging motion with his hands. “With—with that axe. You know?”

Tubbo sighs. “Yeah, I know.” He goes back to his button.

xxx

Ranboo comes for him later that evening, when the sunset has just begun to filter through the windows. Tubbo hasn’t moved from his chair, even though Tommy went somewhere below the desk a while earlier.

The vest’s button came off. It’s still on the floor where it fell, and Tubbo’s started on a new one.

“Tubbo,” he says when he walks through the double doors. Tubbo glances up at him. “Tubbo, can we go home now? You’ve been here all day.”

Tubbo doesn’t say anything. Maybe he doesn’t have to. Maybe they can just leave.

Ranboo walks over. Sinks down in front of Tubbo. He looks away.

“Tubbo.” He takes Tubbo’s hands in his own. “Hey, Tubbo. Can you look at me?”

Tubbo does not look at Ranboo. Tubbo squints his eyes shut and ignores the prickly wetness. It is not there. It has already been there too many times in the past however-long-it’s-been.

Ranboo sighs. “Tubbo, you can’t do this forever.” He squeezes his hands. A tear trickles down Tubbo’s face. “I know it hurts. I know it hurts. It’s going to hurt. It always will. But you’re not alone, I promise. He might not be here anymore, but you’re not alone.”

Tubbo breaks the breath he’s been holding to gasp in a new one. It shudders against his lungs, painful and loud.

“Can you talk to me?” Ranboo asks. “Please, Tubbo. It’s been weeks. Please.”

And that’s where he breaks, where all the air comes out in a fragmented sob, where the tears are back again, and he throws himself at Ranboo, collapsing into his chest and tucking his face into Ranboo’s shoulder. He must be startled, Tubbo notes absently, because his hands take a moment to find Tubbo’s back.

“I’m sorry.” Tubbo gasps. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? It’s okay to be sad.” Ranboo is rubbing circles. It’s an awkward, stilted motion, but there’s heart.

“I can’t—” He blinks hard, swallowing a knotted lump. “I can’t. I can’t. He wasn’t supposed to leave me. He wasn’t supposed to be the one who left.”

Tommy was the queen, and Tubbo the pawn. This directionless pain that festers at his core isn’t supposed to be here. Maybe if Dream had just killed him none of this would have happened. Tubbo would be dead and Dream would be free and Tommy would be in prison but he’d be alive, and maybe Tubbo could visit him as a ghost and keep him company. And neither of them would be this confused because Tommy always knew what to do. He’d get out of the Vault and he’d tell Tubbo what they needed to do next to take down Dream, and it’d be them against the world, the two of them, together always, Tubbo and Tommy, Tommy and Tubbo.

Ranboo has always ran a little cold, which Tubbo found unnerving at first, but right now, his cool skin is soothing and better than anything else could have been against Tubbo’s face. His head is aching and it feels like it’s burning from the inside.

“It’s okay,” he’s murmuring. “I’m here. I’m here.”

What am I without you? Tommy asked one day, in a vault swamped in glimmering darkness. And Tubbo said, yourself. It’s an easy solution to the question that leaves Tubbo paralyzed now, but one that hurts and aches and doesn’t help at all.

He’s been here before, back when he was still president. Back when there was still a nation to be president of. Back when nothing was okay and Tubbo was a monster, the next Schlatt, a tyrant who had only doomed a nation that was doomed from the start. Back then, nothing was okay.

Everything was supposed to be fine now. And it isn’t. So Tubbo cries.

xxx

A few days later, Tubbo goes out.

Ranboo is with him, at his side, holding his hand. Tubbo is wearing a green button-down shirt that’s only a little bit green at this point, holey and worn. Tubbo is hazy-headed with tears. Nothing is okay. But today, he has decided to try.

The sight of the prison made him break down once before, a week or so ago, so when they walk out of the hotel, he fixes his gaze firmly to the right. Stares at the planks of the Prime Path, puts one foot in front of the other. They’ll maybe go to the Community House. Stop by Captain Puffy’s place, or visit Eret, or something. Both of them have a sort of calming presence Tubbo can’t deny wanting to feel again, and Ranboo mentioned something about Puffy wanting to talk to him. He isn’t really sure. For now, it’s easiest just to walk.

Step by step by step. Tubbo watches the edges of all the builds on the path scroll by. A pattern of blood vines webs its way across the grass. He’s glad there’s none on the path; he’d probably trip.

The Targay is somewhere on the edge of his vision when he hears it. Plattering, bouncy notes, dancing through the air. He hasn’t heard this song in a while. He isn’t even sure he’s hearing it now. But each step up the staircase has weight, suddenly, as he makes his way towards the embassy.

He sees it when he crests the hill, of course; it’s hard to miss. Someone cut down the trees that used to stand in the way a while ago, and now it’s just grass and flowers and the bench. That and Tommy, sitting there, staring out at the view, with one arm over the back of his seat just like always. Cat is in the jukebox, spinning just the same as it always has. Tommy must hear him or something, because he turns around, face lighting up when he sees Tubbo.

“Tubbo!” he cries. “Ranboo! You’re here! Come sit with me!”

Tommy. On the bench. Waiting for him.

Breath caught somewhere in his head, Tubbo stumbles over, feet only kind of there. The grass is soft and the sun is bright and the view is beautiful and he sits down and Tommy is there and there’s music and oh, he thinks he might be crying again. Ranboo sits in the grass to their right.

Tommy slings an arm around Tubbo’s neck.

“Hey Big T,” he says. “It’s good to see you again.” It’s almost easy to pretend like everything is the same. “You doing okay?”

Tubbo looks over at him, blinking hard and mustering a smile. “I’m fine,” he says. “How have you been?”

“Good, good!” Tommy says, flashing a grin. “It kinda sucks being dead, though.”

“Oh, yeah?” Tubbo swallows. “Why’s that?”

“You never hang out with me anymore!” Tommy complains, kicking his shin. “And when you do, you’re always so mopey. I know you didn’t want me to die, but like… you could at least spend time with me, eh? There’s no point in just forgetting.”

Tubbo remembers a muttered rant a few months back, something about Jack Manifold and a trident accident and a joke that turned real (count from ten backwards, don’t let this ruin your life), and he exhales. Leaning into Tommy’s touch, he tries again at a smile. “You’ve gotten a lot wiser, haven’t you?”

“Nah, I’m just dead,” he says. “Seriously, though, Tubbo. It sucks, really, it does. But you can do this. I believe in you. You are—quite possibly—the coolest person I know. And you will be okay.”

Tubbo can’t see past his tears. “I—I just—” He stops. Takes a deep breath. “I feel so lost without you. It was always for you, all of it, I don’t—”

“No, no, Tubbo—” Tommy catches his hands where they’ve flown up to rub away the tears— “Thank you. Please. Thank you. For everything. I would have never made it half as far without you. So please. Keep going for me.”

Cat ends, the final note ringing out into the midmorning air. Tommy stands, grabbing the disk from the jukebox and giving it a spin on his finger.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, alright, Tubbo?” he says. “I’m gonna go put this away. And then I’ve got to go make sure I haven’t missed any cli-enteys.”

“Okay,” Tubbo whispers. “Okay, Tommy.”

Tommy starts off down the Prime Path, whistling a senseless tune to himself. Ranboo wraps his hand in his cool grip. Tubbo takes a deep breath.

“And Tommy?” he calls.

Tommy looks over his shoulder. “Huh?”

“I love you.”

“Ew.” Tommy squints at him, but he’s grinning. “That’s gross. You’re gross. You’re really—you disgust me sometimes, Tubbo, you know that?”

Tubbo laughs, then, for real, for the first time in weeks. And he thinks, then, that maybe, maybe, it’s going to be okay.

#tw death #dsmp #dream smp #dream smp fic #my fic #tubbo #ranboo #tommyinnit #grief #:(#wrote this in one sitting #/p #/rp #tw abuse #tw violence

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 4 years ago

Text

Meeting and Dating Specs

(Please ignore how awful my gif is)(Requested via message)

(I’m so sorry I haven’t posted in a while!)

- You met Specs while walking to work in the morning. He was out selling his papers when you and a few of the other girls you worked with passed him.

- He quickly snatched the hat from his head as you walked by, eyes seemingly locking onto you even though you were in the middle of a small crowd.

- The two of you met each other’s gaze and without meaning to, your steps began to slow. A small smile found its way onto your face before you hurriedly made your way back to your group. As you reached your friends sides, you spared one last glance at the boy over your shoulder. You were secretly pleased to see that he was still watching.

- Normally Specs wouldn't linger in a selling spot for too long unless it was raking in a good profit. But let’s just say that he had a bit of an ulterior motive when returning to the area.

- Day after day, you would continue to see him while making your way to work. Your friends began to tease you about it, grabbing your arm and giggling in your ear as you passed him. You felt flattered by the attention but you still wondered if he was actually attracted to you and if so, was he ever going to approach you?

- It was after about two weeks that he finally did. You passed his usual selling spot in the morning and found that he wasn’t there. So, with a little dash of disappointment settling in your stomach, you headed off to work and went about your day.

- You walked out the doors of your work at the end of your shift, wiping your hands on your dress and pulling the hair from your face. It was then that you saw him, his body leaned casually against the wall of the building besides yours.

- He kicked himself off of the wall once he noticed you, pulling the hat off his head as he made his way over.

- He tries his hand at a polite, gentlemanly introduction, fiddling with the hat in his hands as he spoke. He “confessed” that he’d been watching you “for a little while now” and explained that he wanted to get to know you more.

- You smiled and agreed, glad that he had finally decided to try his luck with you.

- Your first date was that same day. The two of you walked around town together, getting to know each other and sweetly flirting. By the time you had to return home, you had already promised to see him again the next day.

- The two of you shared your first kiss on your fourth date. You’d been sitting together in one of the many alleyways of the city, recounting different stories from your day when you started to notice him looking closely at your face.

- You ignored it for a while, figuring that he was probably distracted by a smudge of dust or paint, something that often found its way onto your face after a long day. It wasn’t until you began to walk home together that you finally learned that there wasn’t anything on your face.

- The two of you were just about to say goodbye when he hesitated for a minute, glancing down at what you finally comprehended was your lips and asking if he could kiss you. Now, how could you say no to that?

- Pda wasn’t exactly very common back then so the two of you keep your affection to yourselves for the most part. Although the newsies are far less worried about public decency and reputations, Specs in particular is trying very hard to be a gentleman for you; at least in public.

- Forehead kisses as he wraps his arms loosely around you, keeping you close to him.

- Never ending pecks on the lips. He’ll keep moving in for another one unless you push him away.

- He’s sort of a geek compared to his fellow newsies; he doesn't do nearly as many crazy stunts as them. Maybe he’s more mature, …or maybe he’s just less coordinated than everyone else.

- Even though he’s a geek, he still does crazy/ridiculous stuff; he just doesn’t do acrobatics while doing so. Locked yourself out of your house? He somehow knows how to pick a lock. Forgot something somewhere? He’ll run all the way back there to get it for you!

- He’s kinda slow in the reflex department; you’ve been his savior more than a few times. You’re probably one of the only reasons his glasses are still intact.

- Specs is generally pretty polite but he is not a morning person at all. Be careful when attempting to wake him up, you may end up snatched and cuddled against your will or aggressively grumbled at.

- All the newsies would absolutely love cuddling with their girls and you cannot convince me otherwise. Some may be more shy than others but they all secretly love it. Specs typically sleeps/rests on his back so he’s pretty fond of the sweetheart cradle.

- He’s not ashamed of the fact that he likes when you baby him but he’ll get extremely embarrassed if anyone somewhat comes close to guessing that he does.

- He may be a little rough around the edges but he always tries to treat you like a lady; at least when he can help it.

- Getting visits while or after he sells his papers.

- He would genuinely wait around for hours just to be able to spend a little time with you. Get off work at seven? Well he gets off at five but he can stand to wait a little. Its worth it, right?

- People are just used to seeing him sitting on a crate outside your workplace, fiddling with whatever he can find to pass the time.

- He has a habit of holding/playing with things when he’s stationary so expect to have your hand occupied quite often.

- Piggyback rides. It may not be proper for a lady such as yourself but frankly, you don't give a damn and neither does he if you don’t.

- Likes bothering you in that playful boyfriend sort of way. You get teased, poked and prodded, especially when the two of you are alone together.

- He’s always got something to say. The two of you could have a full conversation about literally nothing at all.

- He’s happy to let you lean on him. What’s the difference when it’s a cute girl doing it? He’s used to having the other newsies use him as an arm rest so having his adorable girlfriend resting against him is a welcome change.

- I don’t know if it’s just me; but he looks so much better without his ridiculous top hat on?? Thank god he takes it off around you.

- He doesn’t have much; if any, pocket money so you’re not going to have any expensive dates. That being said, he tries to do something nice with what he has.

- Little love letters filled with misspellings and awful grammar. They may not be the most poetic things in the world but you adore them all the same.

- Walking around town together. You may have seen it all a hundred times before but it seems entirely new when you’re with him.

- Cozying up in secluded corners.

- Refers to you as ‘me old lady’ when talking about you to other people. He doesn’t use too many nicknames when talking with you though. He isn’t a big charmer so he isn’t used to the concept. He probably calls you “missy” jokingly but that doesn’t exactly count as a nickname, does it?

- He both follows your orders and disobeys you like you’re his mother. He’s constantly on that line of I will blindly follow you and I will make you make me.

- He may give you a little shit now and again but he’s a ride or die and thats a fact. When it really comes down to it, he has your back no matter what.

- The newsies may not seem like the most sensitive people in the world but Specs is a bit more empathetic than most. He hates seeing people; especially you, all sad or distressed.

- He may not be the greatest at it but he always tries to comfort or cheer you up in any way he can.

- He’s not used to people really caring about him and his wellbeing so it’s always a shock to him when you worry about his safety or try to take care of him.

- You once brought him some food because you were worried he wasn’t eating enough and he nearly cried. You should have seen his face when you handed it to him; it was like you were giving him a hundred bucks.

- Occasionally you’ll sneak him into your house when your parents aren’t home so he can take a warm bath in a tub that he actually fits in and eat a full meal.

- Sometimes the two of you will walk around town together, pretending that you’re both a wealthy couple. You put on posh accents and look through the windows of shops you could never buy from, boasting about how you’ll get this or that and talking about other “rich person” things.

- He saves up money for an entire year just to be able to buy you a Christmas/birthday gift. Either that or he’ll attempt to make you something, usually some kind of newspaper flower.

- How jealous he gets really depends on who it is that he’s meant to be jealous of. If it’s another newsie flirting then he’ll just tell them to get lost but if its someone with more class than him then he feels more threatened. Why would you chose him over some upper class fellow?

- He may act aggressive with the guy but he’s more reserved and feels like he has to take more shit if the fella decides to get smart. He doesn’t want to be put in the refuge for soaking him if his parents take it up with the law.

- Nearly all of the newsies would be protective of their girls and this trait isn’t lost on Specs. He’ll stare down people he doesn't like, keeping you behind him and puffing out his chest whenever they turn up.

- He’s always keeping an eye out for you and lingering around. He usually isn’t too far from your side when he can help it.

- He always stands behind you as you’re sitting down, holding the back of your chair and keeping a close eye on everything that’s going on.

- He’s surprisingly fast on his feet and is an arguably good bullshitter/liar which he used for both good and; occasionally, bad causes. He can’t lie to you very well though; you can always see right through him.

- Most of your fights are pretty trivial so it isn't hard for the two of you to makeup. A lot of the time he’ll just forget that you were fighting or what you were fighting about and continue on like nothing happened or admit that he doesn’t even know what you’re supposed to be bickering about.

- You get a ‘love ya’ every time you’re saying goodbye or whenever he just feels the need to say it.

- The two of you will undoubtedly be pretty nervous when introducing him to your parents. The look on his face when you and your father first laid eyes on each other should be framed.

- He’s genuinely ready to spend the rest of his life with you. He’s one of the older newsies too so marriage might be just around the corner; if your folks will allow it.

#newsies imagine #newsies headcanons #newsies x reader #newsies headcanon #newsies imagines #90s movie headcanon #90s movie headcanons #90s movie imagine #specs imagine #specs headcanon #specs headcanons #92sies imagine #92sies headcanons #92sies headcanon

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disastermages · 4 years ago

Text

A Different Kind of Gusu Trio

"It's only for a year, A-Li" That's what her father had told her when he and her mother told her that she would be attending Gusu Lan's lecture. Her skin had paled and her stomach had dropped. It had always been planned that she would attend the lectures when her brothers were old enough to accompany her.

A whole year without either of her brothers next to her when she hadn't been by herself since A-Cheng could walk on his own. The thought of it hadn't sat well with her when they'd broken the news and it didn't sit well with her when she'd set off a few days ago, A-Cheng and A-Xian both crying as they'd hugged her goodbye.

"It isn't goodbye forever, I bet you two won't even notice I'm gone." She'd said, brushing A-Xian's nose with her finger and petting A-Cheng's head with her other hand. Fears gnawed at her as she forced herself to climb into the boat. Would they keep each other out of trouble and not squabble like she asked? Would they behave themselves so Mother wouldn't get angry at them? Would they eat enough without her there?

Those same fears still chew and tear at her nerves as she stands by herself at the gates of Cloud Recesses, her eyes down cast until someone shoves hard against her back, their laughter loud and mean as her knees hit the ground.

Jiang Yanli doesn't look back at first, she can't, her eyes are stinging too hard and she can already hear her mother's reprimand in her mind.

But then there's another, louder voice cutting through the laughing and strangling it out. Jiang Yanli turns and freezes as she sees them, Nie Mingjue holding Wen Xu by the collar, both of their faces red and angry. "Do you think you can pick on others just because they're alone and you're not?" Nie Mingjue demands, shaking Wen Xu as he speaks, not looking at Jiang Yanli as she pulls herself back to her feet, her sword held unsteady in her hand.

She means to tell him that it's fine, it was probably her own fault anyway, but the words are frozen in her throat.

There's more shouting, Wen Xu reminding Nie Mingjue that his father is excellency and that he'll do as he pleases, Nie Mingjue declaring that he doesn't care, that he had no right to do what he'd done. The longer it goes on the more words that build up in Jiang Yanli's throat until another, calmer voice cuts through all the arguing.

"What's going on here? Mingjue?" Lan Xichen stands tall, his eyebrows knit together as he looks across the scene in front of him, from the way Nie Mingjue releases Wen Xu's robes to the dirt stains decorating the lower half of Jiang Yanli's own, his usually smiling face turning into a fine line.

"Young Master Wen shoved Lady Jiang into the dirt." Nie Mingjue says plainly, nodding his head towards her as her grip tightens on her sword.

Rage takes over Wen Xu's face, his glare whipping between the three of them. "That's a lie! She tripped on her own!" Jiang Yanli swallows and forces herself to loosen her hold on her sword as Lan Xichen turns his eyes on her.

"Lady Jiang," he says patiently, and Jiang Yanli tries to bow, but her arms are caught and lowered as Lan Xichen takes another step forward, "which is the truth?"

A moment of silence passes as Jiang Yanli holds her sword with both hands, her throat still tight, but loosening just enough to say, "I was pushed." She's careful not to say any name in particular, after all, she hadn't exactly seen who had pushed her, she had only heard them laughing at her.

"I see." Lan Xichen says, clasping both of his hands behind his back before he turns away from Jiang Yanli and back to Wen Xu and Nie Mingjue. "Young Master Wen, my uncle tells me that this will be the first time in many years that the Lan clan of Gusu has hosted disciples of the Wen clan." The smile comes back to Lan Xichen's face as he speaks and Jiang Yanli only bears the weight of Wen Xu's glare for a moment before Nie Mingjue is putting his body between them.

"Please allow me to impart two of our rules now, do not bully others and do not harass female cultivators." Lan Xichen's tone is kind, but it leaves no room for argument and only then does Jiang Yanli feel the stinging in her knees stop. "Any further disturbances will result in disciplinary action."

The words alone sent a chill down Jiang Yanli's spine, she'd only heard of Gusu Lan's punishments and decided long before her arrival that she'd do anything she could to avoid them. Another moment of silence passes between the four of them before Wen Xu turns away with a growl and stalks back down the mountain, the Wen disciples following after him soon after.

It’s only when they’re all out of sight that Nie Mingjue steps out from in front of her, his shoulders relaxing as he turns to look at Lan Xichen. “Since when does Zewu-Jun spend his time reciting Lan sect rules at other people?”

The rest of the tension breaks as Lan Xichen’s smile becomes genuine as he stifles a laugh. “One must know the rules well before they can begin to find the loopholes in them, Mingjue.” They both laugh then and even Jiang Yanli can feel a smile pulling back onto her face before she can school it into something more serious.

“Thank you both for your help, I’m sorry to cause such trouble.” Jiang Yanli says, bowing before either of them can reach out and stop her again, the laughter dying on her lips when she feels a hand on her shoulder and a warm presence at her side.

“Lady Jiang shouldn’t be the one apologizing.” Nie Mingjue says firmly, his arms crossed over his chest when she looks up again, hoping that the surprise isn’t too obvious on her face when Lan Xichen nods in agreement.

“I doubt we’ll be hearing any apologies from the Wen.” Lan Xichen says, taking his hand off Jiang Yanli’s shoulder with an exasperation that she’s sure she wasn’t meant to see, but it makes her smile all the same.

Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue are still talking as they turn and walk towards the stairs, and Jiang Yanli lingers at the bottom, wondering if she’d be allowed to follow or if they’d already decided to move on from her. It takes her a moment too long to realize that they’re waiting for her, only following along when her name is called.

In their first month, Jiang Yanli had simply thought they’d grown protective of her, one or both of them lingering around her constantly in case Wen Xu had entertained any other thoughts of tormenting her.

By their third month in Cloud Recesses, Jiang Yanli had come to understand she’d thought wrong. Somewhere between the second and third month, they’d stopped calling her Lady Jiang when it was only the three of them, settling for just Yanli instead. It wasn’t proper, but Jiang Yanli had decided she wouldn’t care.

They had both sat near her during classes and during meal times, asking after her brothers on the days that letters came, and she had done the same, smiling widely whenever it led to trading stories back and forth.

“I don’t believe you, Lan Wangji is such a sweet boy.” The surprise is clear in her voice as her eyes widen. Maybe sweet isn’t the word, polite, maybe, observant, certainly, but even so, Jiang Yanli can’t believe it when Lan Xichen tells her he’d gone through a biting phase when he was small. The first time she’d met him, she’d wanted to pinch his cheeks in a fit of missing her own brothers.

“It’s true,” Nie Mingjue says, setting down his teacup with a laugh of his own, “Huaisang and Wangji were both biters, it’s the first thing we had in common.”

“Wangji and Huaisang bit others for different reasons,” Lan Xichen interjects, but doesn’t interrupt, leaning forward to refill their tea cups before he continues, “Huaisang bit to get his way, Wangji bit when he wanted to be left alone.” As if to emphasize his point, Lan Xichen rolls back his sleeve to the elbow, exposing a tiny bite mark on his inner forearm, the scar having turned white and hard to see over the years.

“Uncle brought us along to a meeting and told me to make sure Wangji didn’t wander off, I had only been holding him for an hour when he decided he didn’t want to be touched anymore.” Jiang Yanli has to raise a hand to her mouth to hold back the giggle that comes, imagining a much smaller Lan Xichen with an even smaller Lan Wangji attached to his arm and not letting go.

“A-Cheng went through a phase where he would run off any chance he got, he would always kick and scream whenever I managed to catch him.” She smiles at the memories now, but they’d been terrifying then, chasing him through the streets as fast as her legs could carry her, hoping that he wouldn’t fall into the lake.

“Better than all the animals A-Sang sneaks into Unclean Realm.” Nie Mingjue says with a shake of his head, emptying his cup again, Jiang Yanli refills their cups this time.

“I thought you said he stopped.” Lan Xichen shares a look with her and Jiang Yanli can only smile.

“He stopped for six months.” They’re all quiet and serious for a moment before the laughter comes again.

Six months into their time at Cloud Recesses, Sect Leader Lan deems them ready enough to go on a nighthunt together under his supervision, though the Wen disciples all but demand to take the lead on the hunt, getting them lost and halfway into another town before Lan Qiren takes back control of the hunt.

The hour is too late to consider returning to Cloud Recesses, and after a lengthy lecture, they’re brought to an inn to pass the night, and after Lan Qiren has turned in for the evening, Jiang Yanli and Lan Xichen are snuck into Nie Mingjue’s room, a bulky Nie sect robe draped over Jiang Yanli to keep her from getting caught.

“I have a surprise for both of you.” Nie Mingjue says before he produces two pots of wine from behind his back with a grin on his face. Jiang Yanli’s mouth hangs open as she turns to look at Lan Xichen, he’s not frowning but he’s not smiling either.

“We shouldn’t drink on a nighthunt, Mingjue.” Lan Xichen says, though he doesn’t sound firm in his decision at all.

“But we aren’t on a nighthunt anymore.” Nie Mingjue reminds the both of them, sitting down at the table and opening one of the pots before filling three cups. “The Wen made sure of that.” Nie Mingjue’s words seem to strike something within Lan Xichen, the fine line of his mouth easing into a smile again, though there’s an edge of mischief to it now.

“So they did.” Lan Xichen says, always able to find a loophole in the rules he’d grown up by, Jiang Yanli envies him for it sometimes.

Both Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen pick up their cups at the same time, toasting to each other before they turn to her. Jiang Yanli only hesitates for a moment before she picks up her own cup, neither of her parents get drunk easily, she should be fine, shouldn’t she?

Letting herself relax, Jiang Yanli toasts to both of them before she downs the cup behind the sleeve of her borrowed robe, laughing at the both of them when they look at her with wide eyes. It’s easy to ignore the burn of the wine in her throat when it feels as though she’s getting away with something.

Nie Mingjue is the next to drink, looking at Lan Xichen as though he were daring him to do it now, and Lan Xichen doesn’t back down from the challenge. He downs the cup in one go and within the next second he’s face down on the table and both Nie Mingjue and Jiang Yanli are on their feet, leaning over him.

“Mingjue,” Jiang Yanli says, having gotten over how strange it sounded to call him so casually after the last few months of the both of them insisting upon it, “doesn’t the Lan sect have a weakness to alcohol?” Her hand is on Lan Xichen’s back now, the other resting on his shoulder while Nie Mingjue tapped his fingers against Lan Xichen’s cheek.

“I didn’t think it would only take a cup.” Nie Mingjue says, more confused than defensive as he wraps an arm around Lan Xichen’s belly, lifting him up easily and letting his head loll back. “Help me get him into the bed.” Jiang Yanli nods as she rises to her feet, keeping one hand on Lan Xichen as they walk him to the bed, pulling the quilt back when they get there, just like she’d done for A-Cheng and A-Xian back home.

She steps aside to let Nie Mingjue take off Lan Xichen’s boots before she folds his arms over his chest and pulls the quilt up to his chin, smiling to herself when she hears him begin to snore lightly.

Back at the table, Nie Mingjue refills both of their cups with a shake of his head, though the smile on his face is clear. “Do you think everyone in the Lan sect has that reaction?” Jiang Yanli asks as she sits back down, easing the borrowed robe off her shoulders and setting it to the side gently, the wine was already starting to make her feel warm.

“This is the first time I’ve ever seen a Lan drunk.” Nie Mingjue confesses, turning halfway to look at Lan Xichen as he sleeps. “We’re going to have to tell him that he snores.” Jiang Yanli laughs into her cup at that, looking up once more to make sure her friend was still sleeping soundly in Nie Mingjue’s bed.

She and Nie Mingjue keep their voices light and quiet as they keep drinking, two more cups for Jiang Yanli as the warm, fuzzy feeling starts to set in, and the rest of the bottle for Nie Mingjue who doesn’t seem bothered at all. It lasts for about an hour when Lan Xichen sits bolt upright in Nie Mingjue’s bed and makes to get up, but he stumbles and catches both of their attention.

“Zewu-Jun, you should lie down,” Jiang Yanli scolds lightly, standing up and wobbling on her feet for a moment, Lan Xichen is half way back to the table by the time the world stops spinning and she can put her hands on his arms to stop him from going out the door.

“I promised Wangji I would bring him something back.” Lan Xichen says it as though it’s the only thing he needs to explain as he pushes past Jiang Yanli, moving quickly towards the door, only to be stopped by Nie Mingjue’s hand on his wrist.

“You bring Wangji presents all the time, he’ll be fine if you skip it this one time.” Nie Mingjue says, not letting go of Lan Xichen even when he pulls.

“We can always stop on our way back,” Jiang Yanli tries, “I’ll help you look.”

Something sour crosses Lan Xichen’s face then, his arm dropping for just a moment. “Uncle won’t want to stop on the way back.” He says petulantly before he wrenches his wrist out of Nie Mingjue’s grip and nearly falls out the door as he leaves.

The world screeches to a halt as Jiang Yanli and Nie Mingjue look at the door and then each other before they set off after Lan Xichen the next second, no longer caring about hiding Jiang Yanli underneath another sect’s robe.

Being as drunk as he is should’ve slowed Lan Xichen down, but he’s gone with a flutter of white as they round a corner, hissing his name in a desperate attempt not to wake up the entire inn.

“Xichen!” Nie Mingjue whisper-shouts, pulling apart curtains as though he expected Lan Xichen was only leading them in a game of drunken hide and seek.

“Zewu-Jun!” Jiang Yanli whispers, squinting to see into the darkened dining room when a trail of light coming in catches her attention. “Mingjue.” She calls, her eyes widened as she stares into the empty street.

“Fuck.”

They spend the next two hours chasing after flashes of white and glints of a silver headpiece, Jiang Yanli’s lungs burning in her chest as she bends forward on her knees to catch her breath. It might have been easier to find him if they had split up, but Nie Mingjue had rejected the very idea of it, refusing to leave her alone in the dark for even a moment.

“If I had known he was going to be like this, I wouldn’t have even bought the wine.” Nie Mingjue says, propping against a tree as he grumbles, rubbing at the back of his neck. Straightening herself up again, Jiang Yanli puts a hand on his arm and tries to smile as best she can.

“We’ll find him,” She promises Nie Mingjue that because they would, they would find Lan Xichen and bring him back to the inn and put him back to bed, she would make sure of it.

Nie Mingjue looks as though he’s about to say something when something else catches his attention and his eyes widen, lifting up an arm to point behind her. “There! He’s right there!”

Jiang Yanli turns and gathers her skirts in her hands, running ahead of Nie Mingjue when she sees Lan Xichen kneeling before a merchant’s cart, inspecting their wares as carefully as he could while still drunk.

“Yanli!” Lan Xichen calls, smiling widely and waving with his free hand as she approaches, “I’ve found something for him!” Sighing, Jiang Yanli can’t help but smile back as she comes to squat down next to him, eyes on the wood carved rabbit held preciously in his hand.

“I think that’s a very nice gift for your brother, Zewu-Jun.” Jiang Yanli says, partially an appeasement, partially truth as she tapped her fingernail against the ear of it.

“Xichen!” He corrects, fist closing over the rabbit tightly and making her chuckle.

“Lan Wangji loves all the rabbits you bring him, Xichen.” She tries again as Nie Mingjue finally catches up to them, not nearly as enthralled with the wooden rabbit as the both of them were.

“Is that what you’re getting for him?” Nie Mingjue pants and Jiang Yanli shoots him an apologetic look for making him chase after her too.

“Yes!” Xichen answers cheerfully, reaching for his money pouch and seeming to have forgotten that he’d left it in Nie Mingjue’s room.

“I’ve got it.” Jiang Yanli says quickly, mumbling with the merchant for just a moment as they negotiate the price and Nie Mingjue pulls Lan Xichen away, his grip tighter to keep him from running off again.

They walk back to the inn slowly after that, Lan Xichen between the two of them when he suddenly slumps forward and Nie Mingjue has to scramble to catch him.

“It must be after nine.” Jiang Yanli says quietly as she helps Nie Mingjue load Lan Xichen onto his back, keeping one hand on him as they start back up the hill again.

“I’m never going to let him live this down.” Nie Mingjue says, a bit too loudly as he adjusts his grip on Lan Xichen, glancing down at her with a grin on his face as the inn comes back into view, along with a familiar shape dressed in white who hadn’t seen them quite yet.

“I’ll deal with Sect Leader Lan,” Jiang Yanli says, pushing at Nie Mingjue’s arm, “take Xichen in through the kitchen and he won’t see either of you.” This was another game she’d played at home, distracting her mother with inane questions and conversation so her brothers could sneak back in and dodge punishments and lectures.

By the wild look in his eyes, Jiang Yanli can see that Nie Mingjue means to argue with her, but she pushes at him again and shakes her head. She could do this.

Another moment is wasted looking at each other for confirmation before Nie Mingjue goes, looking back as though he were still uncertain. Swallowing and lifting her chin up high, Jiang Yanli continues up the hill and towards Sect Leader Lan, but not saying a word until his eyes light upon her and he calls her name.

“Lady Jiang! What are you doing out at such an hour?” The admonishment is clear in his voice, but Jiang Yanli can only pretend to look ashamed in front of him.

“You see, Sect Leader Lan,” Jiang Yanli isn’t actually looking at him as she speaks, her nails digging into her palms, “during this time of the month, I cramp very badly and I can’t hold still, my physicians back home have always recommended that taking walks could alleviate such pains.” Her poor health was well known, but not discussed within the cultivation world, what’s one more thing wrong with her?

The next time Jiang Yanli dares to look up, she sees confusion, and then horrified understanding passes over Sect Leader Lan’s face like a summer storm, quickly and then gone when he pulls his face into his normal expression of neutral disdain.

“Very well, Lady Jiang,” Lan Qiren says finally, shifting uncomfortably in front of her, as though he were trying to put distance between the two of them. “See that you aren’t out too late.”

“Thank you, Sect Leader Lan.” Jiang Yanli says, bowing so he can’t see the smile that crosses her face. She’d like to think that XianXian would be proud of the trick she’d just played, but she doesn’t have time to dwell on the satisfaction before she has to walk past Sect Leader Lan and into the inn, praying he doesn’t follow after her as she meets Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen on the stairs.

The two of them manage to put Lan Xichen to bed in his own room and sneak back into theirs before Lan Qiren makes his way back into the inn, and Jiang Yanli just barely manages to collapse into her bed before he sends a female disciple in to check her room.

Lan Xichen is ill tempered and sickened the next morning, vowing to them in secret that he would find a way to neutralize the effects of alcohol over breakfast. Nie Mingjue and Jiang Yanli don’t stop themselves from laughing at him.

The next six months of their time at Cloud Recesses pass by them more quietly than the first, regular classes turning into exams and physical exercises turning into sparring matches as they reach the end of their year of study. Jiang Yanli even manages to win a handful herself after Nie Mingjue had pulled her aside and taught her moves he’d shown to his own brother when he refused to wield a saber.

They sneak out past curfew to sit in the meadows and watch the stars, all three of them laying close together while Nie Mingjue counts out the constellations they can see before he claims that Nie Huaisang is better at astronomy than he is. They’re only caught once, and Jiang Yanli had avoided punishment only because Nie Mingjue had blocked her from Lan Qiren’s view.

At the end of the twelfth month, Jiang Yanli knows she’s altogether ready to go home and dreading having to leave her friends. They would still see each other, at sect meetings and conferences, but she wouldn’t be allowed to run free with them like she had, she was still betrothed to Jin Zixuan and people would talk.

Frowning to herself, Jiang Yanli forces herself to start packing, starting with her robes and then moving onto the trinkets she’d ended up with on their excursions to Caiyi Town when a knock drags her out of her thoughts and forces her back into the moment. “Come in.” She calls, hoping her voice isn’t as tight as it feels as the door slides open.

Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue both step through the door, boxes held nervously in their hands as they look back at the door, afraid they’d be ejected from the women’s dormitories at any moment. “We both wanted to bring you something before you left,” Lan Xichen starts slowly, holding his own box out to her, thumbs pressing into the sides of it as he looks over to Nie Mingjue as if asking for confirmation.

“Just something in case you ever feel like visiting either of us.” Nie Mingjue explains with a wave of his hand, “With a chaperone, probably.” That gets a laugh out of Jiang Yanli, remembering the night out in the meadows when Nie Mingjue had announced what he’d thought of her arranged marriage and the Jin sect as a whole. He’d pretended to be hurt when she offered to leave him off the guest list.

Stepping forward, she opens the boxes slowly, not because she doesn’t trust them, but because she thinks she knows what’s inside them already. Knowing doesn’t take away the surprise of seeing them, though, and Jiang Yanli can feel her heart squeeze as she opens both boxes, starting with Lan Xichen’s and then Nie Mingjue’s. Entry tokens, for both Unclean Realm and the Cloud Recesses, they had meant it when they said they wanted her to visit after the lectures were over.

Jiang Yanli doesn’t even realize she’s crying until one of them calls her name, her fingers lingering on both of the tokens. “Thank you both,” She says, leaning up on her toes to wrap an arm around each of their necks. For a moment, she thinks she’s maybe gone too far, but then two different arms are wrapping around her back, the bigger one squeezing both her and Lan Xichen.

She wouldn’t be allowed to run free with them after she left the lecture today, but she’d always remember when she could, and they’d always steal whatever moments they could at sect meetings and cultivation conferences, it was another promise they’d made together.

#the untamed #mdzs #jiang yanli #lan xichen #nie mingjue #yanli goes to cloud recesses with nmj and lxc au #if any of yall can think of a better au name hmu #ill put an ao3 link in my rb to my mainblog

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muertawrites · 5 years ago

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The Lovers of Ba Sing Se - Part 1 (Zuko x Reader) [Modern Au]

Summary: Zuko isn’t used to being around people who aren’t afraid to share their every emotion. Meeting you during his time in Ba Sing Se changes that, and changes him for the better.

Word Count: 4,000

Author’s Note: Lmao the only person I’m writing this for is myself. Sorry not sorry. I usually try really hard to keep specifics to a minimum in my self-insert works, but this time I didn’t; I wrote about myself because, honestly, this fic is my love letter to me. I relate to Zuko so much and a huge part of the reason I love him is because he reminds me of myself - this fic is about me learning to love myself again after the people I loved and trusted most betrayed me, and saying a gigantic “fuck you” everyone who ever did anything to destroy my self worth. Part 2 is when I finally live out my fantasy of curb stomping Mai - tomorrow, same bat-time, same bat-channel.

Also, shameless plug, but I’m about 100 followers away from 1k, and I have some really fun stuff planned for when we get there so if you like this fic or any of my others, please follow! I love doing this and my goal is to devote as much effort as possible to it as I can, and I truly wouldn’t be able to do it without your support. Thank you so much for all of it. I’m so excited for the future of this blog and everyone who makes it possible ♥

~ Muerta

Of all the things Zuko thought might kill him, falling dishware was the last thing he would have ever considered a possibility.

He was sitting in the alley behind the Jasmine Dragon, making the most of his smoke break, when a ceramic cooking pot rained onto the pavement in front of him, shattering into trillions of pieces. Startled, he jumped back, dropping his cigarette as he craned his neck upwards; he spotted a head of brightly dyed hair staring down at him from the third floor balcony above.

“Oh shit,” you cried.

Within a minute, you burst through the back door of the neighboring building, panting and looking just as terrified as the young man you'd almost killed. Zuko stared at you, mouth slightly agape.

“Oh my god I'm so sorry,” you gushed. “Are you okay?? I didn't see you standing there, oh my god, oh my fucking god please tell me you're okay.”

Zuko was taken aback, unable to do anything for a moment but gaze at you in confusion, almost wonder. People in the Fire Nation were never this publicly expressive, even when barely avoiding manslaughter - he didn't quite know what to do with you, other than mutter that he was alright.

“I'm so, so sorry,” you blurted again. “You're sure you're okay? You don't have any glass on you or anything? Or need to be treated for shock?”

“No, I'm fine,” Zuko flatly replied. He nodded towards the trash bins across the alley. “You do know your building has those, though. You don't need to throw your old stuff off your balcony.”

You blushed, smiling sheepishly.

“It wasn't old,” you confessed. “It was a birthday gift from my best friend. Well… ex-best friend.”

Zuko huffed, pulling another cigarette from the pocket of his jeans and lighting it, looking down at his hands.

“Never had a breakup, huh?” he guessed.

“Oh, I've had plenty,” you told him. “They just don't get any easier.”

Zuko looked up at you, taking a long drag from his smoke. Your eyes were cast into the middle of the alley, settled on the shards of what once had been a reasonably nice piece of cookware. The shock and terror had faded from your expression, falling into one that was pained, anger and despair shadowing your features; you may as well have roundhouse kicked him in the chest, the look on your face mirroring the ache between his ribs. You hadn't revealed anything to him, but he knew instantly that your pain was the same as his.

He slid another cigarette from the box, offering it to you. You shook your head, lowering yourself onto the back stoop of the Jasmine Dragon; he found himself doing the same without thinking.

“I'm sorry about your pot,” he said, clumsily attempting to lighten the atmosphere. “It looked nice.”

You smiled faintly, pulling your knees to your chest and letting your chin rest atop them.

“I don't cook much, so it wasn't a huge loss,” you replied. “It was kind of cathartic, actually. I feel better.”

Zuko chuckled, tapping a bit of ash onto the ground between his feet.

“Good. Maybe feeling better will keep you from accidentally killing someone.”

You laughed, covering your face in embarrassment.

“Have I mentioned I'm sorry about that?” you winced.

“Hey, no sweat,” Zuko assured you. “It's not the first time. I've had people try to kill me on purpose before.”

He stood, stubbing out his half-smoked cigarette and pocketing it. He offered a hand to help you up, which you took, finding comfort in the strength of his palm as it wrapped around your forearm.

“I've gotta get back to work,” he told you. “You don't have any other gifts from your ex-best friend laying around, do you?”

You giggled, shaking your head.

“No,” you promised, “just that one. Thank you. For not threatening to press charges.”

Zuko laughed, realizing he was doing so for the first time in what had probably been years. The light feeling in his chest got even lighter when he noticed he was still holding your arm.

“Will I see you around?” he asked, the words escaping before they were even fully formed in his head.

You nodded, finally letting go of his hand.

“Yeah,” you said. “I'll see you around …?”

“Lee,” he told you. “I'm Lee.”

You smiled.

“Cool. I'll see you around, Lee.”

You saw Lee again a few days later, but not in a way you really wanted to. You were at work, standing outside the bar on the district high street with a coworker, attempting to attract some business during the weeknight lull; Lee spotted you while on his way to the nearby market, seeing you from a block or two away but doing his best to approach you as if he was bumping into you completely by accident.

Of course, this would be perfectly normal and not at all a weird way to run into a new acquaintance, if only the bar you worked in wasn’t catered towards men with a lolita fetish. You were dressed head to toe in pink and white, corseted in a risque bustier and frocked with a poofy, frilly mini skirt that was purposely too short, revealing the bum of your equally as ruffled panties; when you turned around and came face to face with the cute guy from the tea shop next door, you hoped someone would throw a cooking pot on top of you, death seeming like a much better option than attempting to explain yourself to someone who’d already had the privilege of meeting you during an emotional breakdown.

Lee blushed as pink as your costume, smiling coyly.

“We did say we’d see each other around,” he greeted you.

You grinned, relaxing a little.

“You’re not here to have a drink, are you?” you teased him. He laughed, his face turning redder as he reached up to rub the back of his neck.

“No,” he assured you, “I’m actually on my way to get some groceries. Figured I’d say hey.”

“Oh!” you exclaimed, “My break is in about fifteen minutes! If you don’t mind waiting I could go with you? I’ll buy you dinner to make up for almost killing you the other day.”

Lee chuckled, nodding.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind that,” he agreed. “... I don’t have to wait inside though, do I?”

“I mean, my boss would like it,” you told him, “but it’s so dead in there I don’t think she’d let you leave if you did.”

“Noted,” Lee replied. “I’ll wait in the coffee shop across the street, then.”

Not long after, you tossed a hoodie and a pair of jeans over your bustier and undies, meeting him outside the cafe he was stationed at and making your way to the market. You bustled alongside each other in a fray of other people, rubbing shoulders or hips as you were jostled along with the current.

“So,” Lee blurted, attempting to break the silence between you (although it wasn’t nearly as awkward as it probably should have been), “how’d you end up working in a fetish bar?”

Your simpered, cheeks going ever so slightly rosy.

“How do you think?” you jabbed sarcastically. “I needed money and they pay really well. It’s nice knowing I’ll be able to afford rent every month. What about you? How’d you end up at the tea shop?”

“My uncle owns it,” Lee explained. “We’re the only family we have left, so… we stick together.”

You nodded, understanding and not pushing the question any further.

“It’s not so bad,” he went on. “At least I don’t have to wear pigtails to work.”

You huffed with laughter, leaning over so that your shoulder purposely, playfully shoved his.

“Honestly, my job isn’t awful,” you admitted. “My coworkers are cool, and my boss is really kind. It’s also pretty fun getting to dress up in costume every day; it's like Halloween, except I get to do it whenever I want to.”

Suddenly, you paused, gasping.

“Look!”

You grabbed hold of his arm, startling him a bit but too excited to care. You pointed towards a nearby stand, in which an elderly man was frying pieces of dough. He twisted each in an elaborate knot, every order getting a different design. They were like miniature sculptures, too ornate to even think about eating, but the smell of rich spices and molten sugar was too tempting to ignore.

“I love this stand!” you cried. “He isn't always here, but I get something every time he is. Come on, I'll get us some to split!”

With your hand still curled around his elbow, you dragged Lee through the market throng. As he watched you order, making friendly conversation with the old man, he found himself feeling perplexed; he'd never met someone so comfortable with their emotions, so willing to let every part of them be seen. He wondered how you got so fearless, or if you even had to put effort into being so candid.

He found himself thinking about Mai, how cold and empty she was. He was reminded of the chill he felt around her, the bitter sting she often left in his chest, even during tender moments. Being around you was different; even having just met you, you made him feel invigorated but at ease, the tension in his muscles loosening naturally just from the energy of your presence. It was strange, but refreshing - he found himself grinning along with you as you left the stand, finding a place to sit and enjoy your pastry.

“I got us one with curry, and one with cream filling,” you told him, ripping each serving in half to share. “This guy is an artist, I swear. You're not going to be the same person after this.”

You looked up as you took a bite of the savory half of your meal, halting when you noticed the strange look Lee was giving you.

“What?” you asked him.

He shrugged, fixing his eyes on the pastry in his hand.

“You're just different,” he answered. “Where I'm from, people aren't open like you are. You're really… yourself. It's nice.”

You smiled, unable to help but blush. Bubbles fizzed in your chest, making you feel lightheaded and giddy.

“I think it's because so many people told me not to be when I was a kid,” you mused. “They tried to make me hide the parts of myself I really liked, so I made them show even more, just to show them that they couldn't change me. That I was stronger than their cruelty.”

Zuko felt as if he'd been hit by lightning. He didn't know what it was, but something about you terrified him - it was the same thing that made him want to latch onto you and not let go. Despite having met you just days ago, he already felt as if he'd known you a lifetime - unbeknownst to him, you felt exactly the same way.

“Do you want to hang out tomorrow night?” he asked, stuttering the words.

“Yeah,” you replied, so excited you felt like shrieking so the whole market could hear. “I have the day off tomorrow. Think your uncle would let you swing that?”

“Yeah,” Lee assured you. “I think he would.”

You finished your meal together, sharing your favorite things about the neighborhood you lived in and simply enjoying each other’s company, as comfortable as if you were old friends. Instead of parting with you, Lee walked you back to the bar at the end of your break, stating that it was no trouble going back to the market to get the groceries he skipped to spend time with you.

When he left, you hugged him, and for the first time in a long time, you felt as if you'd truly made a friend.

On your date the next day, Lee took you to the local art museum - he remembered you expressing an interest in art history, and per his uncle’s suggestion, decided it would be the perfect place to take you. He loved seeing the awe on your face when met with a piece that captivated you, was drawn in by the impassioned way you spoke about cultures and myths from ages so long passed they felt as if they came from different worlds entirely. You spent the whole day together, ending the evening crashed on your couch with a pizza and a marathon of true crime documentaries.

From that day onward, you and Lee were connected at the hip. You spent every available moment you had either in the alley behind your building with him or having a cup of tea at the Jasmine Dragon, often staying long after closing with him and his uncle, Mushi, and feeling as if you'd finally found a family in your adopted city.

You learned that Lee was a skilled martial artist, asking him to teach you a little of what he knew and amazed at just how good he really was. He moved more like a dancer than a fighter, his comfort and ability with his body and a weapon captivating you. You learned that he also had an affinity for theater and had grown up completely cut off from modern music and pop culture, spending many of your nights together at local play houses and bars, introducing him to your favorite bands and shows. He learned that you were fascinated by literature and history - anything that had significant, profound meaning and beauty - and often found himself wandering museums and historic neighborhoods with you, loving nothing more than to listen to you talk about what inspired you. You also made him laugh, your sense of humor at times dark, but set into a personality that saw the world with childlike wonder, able to find immense beauty and value in things that seemed frivolous to the naked eye. You were kind, unwavering - everything his family and past lover weren't.

Zuko loved being around you because of how free you made him feel. The unbridled way you expressed your emotions encouraged him to face his own, following your lead in being unafraid of just how intensely the heart within his chest was prone to beat. You loved being with him because he made you feel safe, never judging you for anything and understanding the trauma of your past in a way nobody else had done before. You opened up to him about how the ones you loved did you the most harm, never giving themselves as fully to you as you did them, treating you as a means to take out their own pain and insecurities and convincing you that that was just the way love worked. Eventually, he confided in you the truth about his identity, confessing the horrors he fled in coming to Ba Sing Se. You never once blamed him for anything he'd done, knowing exactly what it felt like to have to read between the lines and give everything for those who gave you little in return. You fit together easily, never having to guess what the other was thinking; for once you both felt content, secure in the safety of your heart within the other’s hands.

One of your favorite places to go with Zuko was a cat cafe a few blocks over from where you worked, spending many a slow weekday off shift with fresh lattes, croissants, and cuddles from friendly, adoptable kitties. At first, Zuko was unsure, having never spent much time with cats, but after one visit he was enamored, gushing to you every single time you went how badly he wanted a cat and spouting multiple reasons why you should adopt one together. On a free Wednesday afternoon he showed up at your apartment unannounced (as he had made a habit of doing) and suggested you go together, an invitation you were more than happy to accept.

As you left the cafe, a couple walking on the other side of the street caught your eye - the man who stood nearest to you was horrifyingly familiar. You recognized him immediately, the shock of his sudden appearance shattering and hollowing out your insides.

It was your ex boyfriend, the man who broke your heart so far beyond repair, walking hand in hand with someone else.

“Zuko,” you mumbled, not even noticing that you used his real name in public, “I want to go home.”

Zuko furrowed his brow, taking you by the shoulders and gently turning you to face him, concerned with the sudden shift in your tone.

“What's wrong?” he asked softly.

All you could do was shake your head. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, leading you to the nearby subway station and back to your apartment.

Once safe inside the confines of your home, you changed into a baggy sweater and the softest sweatpants you owned, curling up under the kotatsu in your living room with Zuko, arms wrapped tight around his waist as you drifted in the tide of blood that poured from your newly reopened wounds. He didn't have to ask what you'd seen - he could tell from the vacant, glassy look in your eyes exactly which ghost haunted you.

“I can't believe he'd be with someone else,” you whimpered. “After everything he did to me… always giving me mixed signals and never telling me exactly how he felt… how could he be able to do it with another person? What was so wrong about me that he hid all of it from me, when all I needed was to hear it?”

You sniffed as Zuko pressed a thumb to your cheek, wiping away a tear that had fallen. He hugged you tightly, pressing you close as if to remind you that he was there - he was your present, and there was nothing your past could do to harm you.

“There's nothing wrong with you,” he promised. “He's taken enough from you. Don't give him any more.”

For a long while, you sat together in silence, cradled in Zuko’s arms while he rocked you slowly back and forth, the tenderness of his touch sucking the poison from your veins. After what felt like ages, he finally spoke, giving you the piece of his past he'd been too heartbroken to offer until that moment.

“My girlfriend, Mai,” he told you, “she was like him. Everything she felt, she forced herself not to. We were together for a long time, but… I never really felt like she actually cared for me. If she did, she never let me see it. I gave her everything for nothing.”

“Why did you stay with her?” you wondered, voice meek and quivering with tears.

Zuko sighed, letting his chin fall so he could bury his face in your hair.

“Because she was the first person who ever accepted what I offered her,” he explained. “I was so used to everything I did being unwanted, it was just nice to not be pushed away for once. But she didn't love me like I needed it. I wish I was strong enough to see that and walk away, like you did.”

You propped yourself upright, leveling yourself so you could look him in the eye. You rested your hands at either side of his neck, your thumbs grazing delicately over his hot skin as you hooked your legs around his hips, your body nestled in the gap between his crossed legs.

“Zuko,” you breathed, “I love you. Those aren't even the right words to tell you how I feel about you, but it's the closest I have. You're so passionate and kind, and you love so fiercely… I truly don't know how to tell you how beautiful I think you are, or how much you mean to me. You deserve so much more than how the people you loved have treated you.”

Zuko curled his arms around your back, pressing his chest to yours and burying his face in the crook of your neck, embracing you as closely as he'd ever done. Tears soaked the collar of your sweater, and in return you cried into the exposed skin revealed by his t-shirt as you tugged on the fabric, gripping him as if letting go meant losing him forever.

“I love you, too,” Zuko murmured. “You make me feel strong enough to show it.”

When Zuko left Ba Sing Se, it crushed you. You were furious, at first unable to understand why he'd throw everything away to return to the place and the people that destroyed so much of him. Most of all, you missed him like mad - you missed how easy it was being with him, how you understood each other as if you were another part of yourselves. You missed his laughter and his warmth, the side of your mattress he often slept in feeling colder than ever without him there.

You were relieved when Mushi - who you now knew to be the infamously disgraced General Iroh - returned, showing up at your door out of the blue with tea and baked goods from the shop. You hugged him tightly, crying like a child as he settled you at your table and told you about his escape from prison, as well as his conversations with Zuko the few times he'd visited him. Your heart ached, but it finally felt clear just how lost and confused he was; you were still angry, but you knew you could forgive him.

“His heart is lost,” Iroh explained, “but because of you, he knows how to listen to it.”

For the next month and a half, you took Zuko’s place at the Jasmine Dragon, spending your days off helping Iroh wherever he needed you. He became as much a part of you as his nephew did, and started to consider you as much a daughter as he did Zuko a son. Iroh’s presence soothed the burns left on your soul not only by those you loved, but by your own ferocity towards them.

Everything changed again the morning you woke to and find that Zuko had left the Fire Nation a third time, his face plastered across the news as a missing person with a bounty on his head. You knew based on everything Iroh told you what he planned to do, and immediately set to packing your bags. Travel into and out of the Fire Nation was difficult, but a few of your coworkers had connections to smugglers in the seedier parts of the district - they’d be able to get you onto a ship or a plane that could get you where you needed to go.

Before you left, you went to the Jasmine Dragon and told Iroh of your plans, asking him to keep watch over your apartment so that you could return if need be. You expected him to try and stop you - instead he pulled you into a strong, affectionate hug, telling you to be careful and call him whenever you were able.

“Go to him,” he hummed into your ear. “He needs you.”

Later that night, you met a group of other refugees at the docks, piling into the hull of a cargo ship bound for the Fire Nation’s imperial city. For the entirety of the journey, you wore one of Zuko’s necklace’s around your neck - one of the few things he’d kept from his life before his banishment and subsequent disappearance - keeping it tucked under your shirt and pressed to your chest for good luck.

[ Part 2 ]

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pressedinthepages · 4 years ago

Text

Love

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Ciri & Eskel (Platonic/Familial), Geralt/Eskel, Lambert/Aiden

Rating: T

Masterlist

a/n: No request this time, just wanted to write something soft.

thanks to @sometimesiwrite for being a great beta/idea machine/friend :)

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: language, softer than a freshly washed puppy, ~yearning~

Ciri asks about love.

“Hey, Uncle Eskel?”

Ciri’s voice, smooth and level with her age, rings over the ramparts from which Eskel currently hangs. Vesemir has given them all a chore for the afternoon, and Eskel is finishing closing a gaping maw in the structure of the inner wall of the keep. He is just barely perched on a scaffold, reaching to place the last stone in a spot that’s *just* outside of his reach.

Eskel turns to look down at Ciri, her ashen hair shining bright in the waning sun. He huffs as the breeze catches his dark hair and flops it down into his eyes. Ciri giggles, a sweet sound that she has yet to grow out of. Gods, I hope she never does, Eskel thinks.

“Yes, Swallow?” Eskel is pretty proud that of all the dumb things Lambert and Geralt tried to nickname Ciri, his was the one that stuck.

Ciri crosses her arms over her chest, looking all the world like Geralt whenever he has his mind set on something that is almost certainly an inconvenience for Eskel. “After supper, I would appreciate your insight on some personal matters.” Ciri winks, her proper tone eclipsed by a chuckle just under her breath.

Eskel grins a bit, thinking back on their previous discussions. She’s grown up quite a bit, still on the earlier side of twenty, but her mind is sharp as a blade, and her tongue even sharper. “Of course, it would be an honor.” Eskel bows where he hangs, making his position even more precarious. He hears the quick intake of breath from Ciri and sits back up, smiling wide even as his scar pulls at his lip.

“Don’t worry, little one,” Eskel says, switching the stone to his other hand before leaning back to the hole. “You’ll not get rid of me that easily.”

Shortly after, Eskel and Ciri get to the supper table just as Lambert is serving. He’s on cooking duty all week, which works out well for everyone. He’s got the most agreeable palette, and he uses it well. However, next in the rotation is Geralt. He has the most sensitive nose out of all of them so he doesn’t season, and can’t cook a bird for shit. Eskel plans on appreciating his younger brother’s cooking as much as he can before the next week of bland meat and undercooked bread.

“Eat up, fuckers.” Lambert sets a large dish on the table, a hearty roast full of venison and root vegetables that had been stored away before the frost set in. A layer of lightly spiced shortcrust covers the top, and is served alongside tankards of ale and a hunk of dark bread.

“Smells delicious, Lambert,” Ciri calls after his retreating form. Eskel sees how the tips of his ears blush as he pours some of his “vodka” (which is really just shitty leftover potion water) into his tankard, but Eskel only smiles down into his plate. Vesemir joins them too, and the four of them tuck into the generous offering.

Their peace is short-lived though, cut off by the abrupt clang of the great doors flying open. Geralt stomps into the common area where they all sit, and Eskel wrinkles his nose. Geralt is soaked head to toe, and he smells like a mix between a decaying fish and a little bit of vomit after too much spicy food.

Lambert clearly picks up on it too, offering Geralt a sip of his drink. “Drowner duty?”

Geralt grunts as he sits across from Ciri, bumping Eskel’s shoulder as he helps himself to the dinner. Geralt moans a bit as he takes the first bite, and Eskel shudders at the sound. He’s always been weak for Geralt’s voice, especially with how rarely he actually uses it.

They eat quickly now, forced to scarf it down in an effort to escape the devastating scent that Geralt brought to the table. Eskel drains the last of his ale and grabs an apple, slicing it in half and handing some to Ciri. She whips out her own dagger and cuts away the core before portioning it neatly into several smaller mouthfuls.

Geralt sighs before pushing himself to stand, a whole new waft of nauseating aroma settling with the sudden movement. “I’m going to wash.”

“Thank Melitele’s sweet tits, I thought you were just gonna make that part of your ~look~ now, pretty boy.” Lambert leans back with his boots kicked up on the table, carving a crude drawing into a pear from the table. Geralt walks quietly away from the table before turning abruptly and swinging his leg wide, catching Lambert’s chair and yanking it out from under him. He flails wildly before his ass hits the ground and he turns to grab at Geralt’s ankle. But he has already torn off towards the baths, and Lambert huffs before scrabbling to his feet and chasing after him, his pear long forgotten.

Vesemir sighs in the now much quieter room, also standing and picking up his plate. “Well done on that wall today Eskel. Looks much better.”

“Thanks, wasn’t anything too difficult.”

“Maybe so, but I still appreciate it.” Eskel smiles as Vesemir walks away, letting himself revel in the praise for a moment.

Ciri clears her throat, bringing Eskel back to the matter at hand. “Library?” She asks, and Eskel nods. He takes Ciri’s plate and sets them into the washbasin for a later time. They trek up the stairs and push open the heavy wooden door. Eskel lights the fire with a flick of his fingers and the room instantly warms, the air light and swirling around them.

Eskel watches as Ciri plops down onto the dense fur in front of the fire, warming her hands as the orange light dances over her face. He walks over to his trusty copy of the Beastiary, only to pick it up and find it much lighter than he would expect. He opens it, and instead of his glass bottle of White Gull, there is a note in the hollowed-out hole.

‘Maybe pick a less obvious hiding place, douche-canoe.’

The handwriting is scrappy and small, just like the younger witcher that wrote it. Eskel sighs before turning to another bookcase, finding a heavy tome that Jaskier had left for him a few years prior. He flips this one open and finds two small flasks of Toussaint wine, which is certainly better than nothing.

Eskel walks silently over to Ciri and hands her one of the glasses before sprawling out beside her. They sit in silence for a while, as has become tradition while Ciri gathers her thoughts. They both sip at the wine, and Eskel needs to remember to write a letter to Jaskier at Oxenfurt for saving his ass tonight.

“I have to warn you Eskel,” Ciri murmurs, and Eskel looks over to her with a crook of his brow. “This isn’t going to be an easy one.”

Eskel hums, taking another sip of wine. “Never is, kid.”

Ciri takes in a deep breath, steeling herself with a long chug of the alcohol in her grasp. “How do you know if you’re in love with someone?”

Eskel’s eyes widen imperceptibly, and he can feel how his heart skips a beat. “Damn Ciri,” he chuckles, “you weren’t kidding when you said this wouldn’t be easy.”

Ciri only shrugs with a smirk. Eskel shifts a bit, partially to get himself more comfortable, and partially to give himself more time to think. He can only wiggle around for so long before it gets weird for everyone though, so he just ends up tucking his legs underneath him and taking another long drink of wine.

“Well, I-”

“Have you ever been in love, Eskel?” Ciri turns to him, her bright gaze shocking on even the best days. Now they bore straight through Eskel, and he feels like she is peeling away the layers of mortar he has so carefully laid around his heart for the past, oh, century or so. Eskel thinks back, trying to remember the moment that he knew what love was.

And then he tries to figure out how to tell Ciri that he knows what love is like because of her father. Geralt showed him what it was like to feel out of breath whenever they were more than a hairs’ breadth apart. And then the all-encompassing relief that sang through his bones whenever they reunited. They showed each other how to accept this part of their lives that had been so desperately ignored, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

But that’s a lot. Geralt is terrible with words and feelings, and Eskel is not much better. Ciri looks at him expectantly, with all of the air of royalty running low on patience. Ciri is eternally patient though, especially with all of the practice she has had with Geralt.

Eskel is just about to open his mouth when he hears stomping down the hallway, and he waits until Lambert pushes open the old door with enough force to send the snow into an avalanche over the mountains. He, now, is soaking wet, though instead of drowner guts he only smells of the clean mineral water that flows into the springs beneath the keep. Eskel smirks up at him as he traipses over to where the two of them sit, dropping himself unceremoniously into one of the soft chairs that rests not far from the fire. “Geralt throw you in?”

Lambert hums in the affirmative, seemingly harboring no further ill-will towards him. “What are you two chucklefucks talking about?”

Ciri pipes up, seemingly (for whatever reason) interested in Lambert’s opinion. “I asked Eskel what it feels like to be in love.”

Lambert’s face looks as though he was just violently slapped with a fish, glancing over to Eskel who only offers a shrug in return. Eskel is expecting a long-winded rant about how ‘Witchers don’t love, it makes you soft, and a soft Witcher is a dead Witcher…’ blah blah blah, but that’s not what he gets. Instead, Lambert kind of sinks further into his seat and his eyes turn tender, and Eskel realizes that he’s getting a glimpse into the Lambert that the world so rarely sees.

“Wanna know what I think about love, little beetle butt?”

Ciri nods, turning more fully towards Lambert. Eskel does the same, curious to see what his youngest brother has to say. Eskel holds out his half-empty flask, handing it to Lambert in a silent offer of support. Lambert drains the remainder of the wine in one gulp, the bastard, before he smiles a bit as he loses himself in his thoughts.

“I think that love is-” Lambert sighs, searching for the right words, “love is indescribable. You don’t know what it is until you have it, and then you never want to let it go.”

Eskel nods at Lambert’s words, letting them resonate in his mind. He never quite feels right anymore without Geralt at his side, his body and soul yearning for their other half in a way that cannot be depicted with mere words.

“Ciri, I haven’t got a clue about whatever you’ve got going on,” Lambert wags his finger in the air, and Eskel can see just how influenced the youngest of them was by Vesemir. “But life, especially human life, is too short to dwell on shit that will fester and bubble under your skin if you don’t let it out.”

“But how do I know?” Ciri whispers, and Eskel’s heart breaks for her. Gods, he has spent decades asking himself that exact same question, and he still doesn’t really have an answer.

“You’ll know when it’s not a question anymore.” Lambert stares off into the fire, watching the flames lick up into the air, chasing the wayward embers into the dark of the ceiling. Eskel is kind of stuck, Lambert’s words ringing through his head. When it’s not a question anymore. Fuck, when did the little prick actually get smart?

Ciri rolls over, pressing a gentle kiss to Eskel’s cheek, right over the angriest of his scars. “Thank you, Uncle Eskel. And you, Uncle Lambert,” she gives him a kiss on the cheek as well, and leaves them alone to their thoughts.

Eskel looks over at Lambert, seeing in bright relief the decades that have worn this man raw, and wonders just how he can still have room for love in his heart. “Who is it?”

Lambert sighs, hanging his head a bit. “I met him on the Path. We’ve been...traveling together now for a couple of years. He’s uh-he’s the best man I’ve ever met.”

Eskel smiles wide once more, scooching closer to where Lambert sits. “I’m happy for you, Wolf. Why haven’t you told us?”

“He’s another Witcher, and a Cat no less.” Eskel blinks at this, but the way that Lambert looks at him, vulnerable and exposed, shuts up any errant thoughts he may have had. “Besides, like you have room to talk. You’ve been pining after Geralt for how long? A century? Two?”

Eskel throws his shoe at Lambert, catching him on the shoulder. Fuck, I need to work on my aim. “Shut up. I’m working on it.”

Lambert scoffs as he stands up, chucking Eskel’s boot back over his shoulder. “Right, well. Once you figure it out, let me know. By that point, I’ll be retired on the coast with a whorehouse next door. You’ll know where to find me.”

Lambert is almost to the door when Eskel’s arms wrap around him, strong enough to bruise a rib if he wasn’t a Witcher. “Shit, Eskel! Let go of me, you great oaf!”

Eskel gives one last squeeze before he relents, grabbing Lambert by the arm before he can take off running. “Thank you, Lambert, and I promise. I won’t tell anyone before you’re ready.”

Lambert glances down to the ground with a great breath in, his golden eyes catching Eskel’s when they return. “Thanks, brother.”

“Of course, Wolf.”

#uncle!eskel #eskel & ciri #gereskel #aiden x lambert #the pining is real with this one

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logical-little-lies · 4 years ago

Text

{Chapter 1- Small Beginnings}//Soft, Cute, and Far Smarter Than You [Sanders Sides Agere/CGLRE]

Here’s the story description+wattpad cover before you read the first chapter!!:

“Patton was spending every second he could learning about Logan. Little Logan and Big Logan alike, both of them were definitely worth his time. He's always wanted to be a dad, and playing the role for the little logical side came so easily for him. And the fact that he was slowly falling for Big Logan just made him all the more interested Maybe Logan hadn't been a regressor quite as long as Virgil had, but the coping skill definitely helped him just as much. From being a hyper toddler who just wants to read a children's book about space, to being a fourteen year old that is only interested in Sherlock and Netflix, every second is an adventure with a little who probably has a larger vocabulary than you do. So tag along for adventures, with two littles and two carers. A sibling like bond between the regressors, a secret shared between the sides. Prepare for a wild ride, because this is the beginning of a brand new life. Little Logan, no matter what age he was regressed to, would and always will be Soft, Cute, and Far Smarter Than You.”

"Logannnn!"

Logan was very much still asleep with Patton opened his door, waking him up with a sing-songy voice. It was weird, Patton checking on him every single morning. Logan knew it was just him checking if he'd have a baby for the day, or if Logan needed anything. He sat up a bit, rubbing at his eyes before looking up at Patton. His vision was still a bit blurry because he didn't have his glasses on, but he gave a soft wave.

"Still sleepy?" Patton chuckled, coming to the side of the bed and sitting down.

"mhm." was his only response.

"Virgil woke up pretty small today, and I wanted to check if you felt little too." Patton spoke after a few moments, "So...am I making breakfast for a toddler or not?"

Logan giggled at that, immediately covering his mouth with his hand. "Didn't mean that. No, m' big."

"Okay, so I'm guessing you're around five right now?" Patton teased, softly reaching over and tugging on his wrist so that his hand was pulled away from his face. Logan was blushing, looking around for one of his stuffed animals to hug. "Awe, sweetheart. I know being little and cutesy, especially around us is new for you, but you have nothing to be scared of."

"Pwomise?" Logan replied quickly, biting on his lip. Patton gave a soft smile, knowing the boy was regressing fully now.

"Absolutely, baby." he leaned forward, kissing his forehead softly.

This whole thing, Virgil and Logan being toddlers sometimes, it was new. Newer to Patton then it was to Roman, but either way it was an adjustment for everyone. Virgil had been regressing since he left the dark sides at the latest, but he had only told Roman about his littlespace three or so months ago. And the only reason he did so was because he involuntarily regressed while he was there to see.

Logan himself had been regressing knowingly for only a few months, but he had suspicions that he had been regressing much longer, he just didn't know what it was to label it. He thought it was some weird thing, not a completely healthy coping skill that was improving his mental health. So when Virgil slipped up at the dinner table just a few weeks ago and couldn't come up with a cover up, Logan was glad to hear that there was another little in the house.

Logan remembered the rant Patton gave Virgil and Logan, telling them that they shouldn't hide their regression, and now that everyone knew, they could regress whenever they wanted. Virgil came to Logan's room after dinner, and they talked for hours about what was previously a secret.

"I would've never pegged you as a regressor, but I guess it makes sense. You probably have the most stressful work out of all of us. This might be weird, but do you know your age range?" Logan remembered him asking.

Logan remembered talking throughout the whole night, and ending up somewhat cuddled up in Logan's bed. They didn't regress that night, but they did both wake up small.

That day was no more then two weeks ago, and things were still being settled and figured out. Roman being Virgil's caregiver had already been arranged, but Logan didn't have a caregiver. He insisted that he didn't really need one, the only reason he told everyone was because they reacted well to Virgil and he didn't logically see the point in keeping in a secret when he knew that he'd most likely be accepted. He also knew it would make things easier, if he didn't have to hide and rush off to his room every single time he felt himself slipping.

And though he said that he didn't need a carer, doing things by himself that morning while watching Roman guide and baby Virgil kind of made him sad. That's when Patton stepped in, helping him and giving him affection, he did his best and his best was enough for Logan. So since then, every single morning, Patton would come to his room and ask if he was little. Most of the time, he wasn't, and he'd get a soft hug and a "breakfast will be ready soon". But when he was, like now, Patton would help him get ready for the day.

"Do you want a pacifier today, baby?" Patton asked softly, walking around his room to pull together an outfit. He looked at Logan, who nodded a bit. Patton gave him a soft smile, walking over to his dark blue dresser. He opened the bottom drawer, leaning down to retrieve the small black chest from it. He closed the drawer and came back over to his bed, sitting down next to where Logan was now sitting crisscross-applesauce on his bed.

Logan was now dressed in a blue sweater and a pair of black shortalls, content with the outfit Patton had picked out for him. Patton opened the small chest, turning it towards the boy. "Which one would you like, Little One?"

Logan looked inside the box, at the six different pacifiers. Two were plain solid-colored adult pacifiers (one dark blue, one white), two were modified baby pacifiers, and two were deco pacifiers. "I don know," he pouted, looking between them.

"One of the blue ones would probably match your outfit well?" Patton offered as advice. Logan hesitated, looking between the leftover options.

He picked out one of the decorative ones, it was pastel blue with the phrase 'baby' on the handle in white letter beads. There were different colored gems stuck on it, and the button of the pacifier there was a little heart that was blue and sparkly.

"It's so cute! You're so adorable oh my god-" Patton paused to take a breath, looking at the adorableness that was the little in front of him. He did that a lot, where he'd coo over him while he was supposed to be taking care of him. "Okay I'm sorry, here's a pacifier clip," he dug into the box, pulling out a white pacifier clip to attach his pacifier to his shirt.

"It's kay," Logan giggled at Patton, blushing a bit. He let Patton connect the pacifier to the clip, and then clip it to his overalls. He spat out the pacifier playfully, letting it hang from his shirt.

"Be careful, that one is a decorative one! You'll be sad if something falls off of it!" Patton warned, Logan pouting a bit.

"Noo, don't wan break it!" he squeaked, looking at the pacifier now for any sign of damage.

"It's all okay, Lo. I was just letting you know so that it didn't happen," Patton explained.

"Oh, okay..." Logan slipped the pacifier nipple back into his mouth before adjusting his gasses on his face.

"You ready to go downstairs? I'll let you have fruit and whipped cream for breakfast!" Patton offered. Logan bounced in place excitedly, moving to get off of his bed.

"Don't you want Lilly?" Patton asked, getting off the bed as well but not leaving.

"Oh! Liwwy!" Logan reached for the stuffed elephant in question, squeezing her in his arms. Patton chuckled at his adorable antics, reaching out his hand for him to take. Logan took it softly, letting Patton guide him down the stairs.

"Look, it's saturn!" Logan had this habit of switching what age he was regressed to in littlespace. Patton was starting to get used to him waking up really small and then adjusting later. No one was sure why he did it, but it was definitely noticeable. His pacifier hung somewhat-uselessly off of his overalls,and he was sitting next to Patton, reading picture books out loud.

Patton had taken over the very important job of holding Lilly while he read. "Yeah, I see it honey." Logan took this as a signal to continue reading his space book. Patton would act shocked at random facts, making Logan feel like he taught him something (which made him excited), and also point out the pictures in the book. If Logan began to stumble over a word, he'd point at it and Patton would help him sound it out.

Logan and Patton haven't officially talked about the whole caregiver thing, Patton just played the role when needed. Logan was definitely not secretly planning out how he was going to ask Patton to be his caregiver, that was surely not a thing he was considering.

Patton was just so good at helping him slip when he was close, and comforting him about not wanting to be small. "Baby, baby, baby. You're so cute!" Patton was practically squealing now, and he 'booped' Logan's nose softly. "You soft, little, cute thing I can't even-" he squeezed him into a hug. Logan giggled, scrunching his nose and kicking his feet a bit.

Roman chuckled, entering the living room with Virgil trailing behind him shyly. "I did the same thing when I first found out about this baby emo. I was like, so obsessed with how adorable he is," he sat on the couch near Logan and Patton, pulling Virgil onto the couch and setting him on his lap. Virgil was facing towards Roman, and he almost immediately buried his face in his chest.

"And you're not anymore?" Patton sounded as if he was betrayed or something.

"I got used to the adorableness, so I at the very least don't have a heart attack from the cuteness every single time." Roman lightly ran his fingers through Virgil's hair, causing him to hum.

Patton went to say something, but Logan tugged on Patton's hand to get his attention. "What is it, baby?" Patton spoke softly, looking at him in curiousity.

Logan silently pointed at the tv, mumbling something. "What was that, sweetheart?"

Logan whined, taking Lilly from Patton's lap and squeezing her tight. His picture book was abandoned beside him. "'Punzel!" he repeated louder, lifting Lilly up so that he was hiding behind her.

"You mean Rapunzel? You wanna watch Tangled, baby?" Roman translated for Patton. Logan nodded a bit.

"Oh, sure! We can put on Tangled for you!" Patton reached forward, getting the remote from the coffee table and turning on the tv. Roman distracted himself with talking to Virgil in his lap. Once Patton located Disney+ and went to search up the requested movie.

"We can make some lunch while the boys watch this," Roman suggested as Patton went to go play the movie. Virgil lifted his head from Roman's chest with a worried pout. "I'll be in the kitchen baby. If you really need me, I'm not far."

Virgil still pouted, but eased up. Roman kissed his forehead before moving him so that he was just sitting on the couch. Logan kinda went quiet, silently slipping his pacifier into his mouth and leaning back. "Okay, I'll be in the kitchen if you need me, sweetheart. I'll watch the movie with you after you two eat, okay?"

Logan gave a soft nod, smiling a bit. Patton gave him a kiss on the forehead, before leaving the boy. Patton hit the light switch on the way out, and the two littles settled in to watch the movie.

This whole family thing, being taken care of and having another little around, it was definitely different.

But it wasn't a bad different. Yeah, Logan was nervous to be openly little, as was Virgil. But, once they got over that nervousness, they'd form a family that would be full of adventures and memories.

And I have one thing to ask.

Will you stick around to see the adventures?

Will you stay and watch these four dorks form new memories?

Because this is definitely going to be a wild ride.

A/N: Hi! Welcome to my new story!! this is a quick intro with some exposition tied in there so that you know what's going on! If you have any questions comment them/send them to my inbox (Wattpad/Tumblr). This story will primarily feature Logan in middlespace (13-16), but toddlerspace!Logan (3-5)+kiddo!Logan (6-12) will also be included along the way! Virgil regresses between 6 months-5 years!

If you'd like, send your reactions/thoughts on this chapter to my inbox as well/comment them (again, tumblr vs wattpad). I'm excited to see what people think about this story!

also please reblog to share this if you like it!

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digitalworldbound · 4 years ago

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Takari Week, Day One: Confessions

Hi! Here is my contribution for the first day of my favorite week!

Title: Puppy Love ft. Hikari

Pairing: Takeru x Hikari. Takeru promises himself that he will confess his truest feelings to Hikari by the end of the year. I have a longer version of this story, but made it brief for Tumblr! I had to cut out several months, so the end seems rush, but I will post the full length story on AO3 sometime soon!

JANUARY

As the first sunrise of his sixteenth year bathed him in a glorious light, Takaishi Takeru made himself a solemn promise. By the end of the year, he would confess it all to the girl he loved.

On the morning of January first, he was surrounded by eleven of his closest friends. They had spent the last day of the year together, sharing stories and eating street food. With their bellies full, they watched the sunrise together for the last time. Come spring, Jou would be moving into the heart of Tokyo to begin his graduate studies. Yamato had already expressed and interest in touring with his band one final time before he started, so Takeru snuggled up to his side as the golden rays of sunshine caressed their cheeks.

“This is it.” His voice was no more than a whisper. The others chattered aimlessly, filling the crisp air with giggles and shared experiences. Despite the noise, Yamato had heard him. He always did.

“Don’t think like that, Keru. You know I’m always just a phone call away.” The older blonde rested his cheeks on Takeru’s head, pulling him closer into his embrace. Despite the reassurance, there was a hint of finality in his voice, as if he, too, believed that this could be the end of all of them.

Growing up was messy business, and Takeru wistfully longed for that one, eternal summer.

“Yeah, but you take after dad. What if you get so busy that you won’t pick up?” Takeru did his best to conceal the worry in his voice, but Yamato could hear his tone waver. “When it comes to you, Keru, I would do anything. Besides,” he nudged his little brother playfully, “I think you will be preoccupied with a certain someone.” He gestured towards the direction where Hikari sat. From his position buried in his brother’s shoulder, Takeru couldn’t see much, but his cheeks colored regardless.

“How did you know?” Takeru cringed as the words left his mouth. If his blush didn’t give him away, his question surely would.

Yamato grinned, shooting his brother a quick wink. “Just call it a brother’s intuition.”

Somewhere to his right, Hikari giggled at something Iori said. The sound seemed to dissipate in the morning air, briefly riding on the wind until it faded away. Takeru suppressed a smile. “Hmm, well what does ‘brother’s intuition’ say about my odds?”

Takeru glanced up to find his brother’s attention on the horizon, the golden haze fading into a sea of milky blues. He tucked himself further underneath Yamato’s arm, feeling like he was eight years old again.

“In all honesty, I believe that you are the only person with odds when it comes to her.”

The pair sat in silence, letting the morning wash over them. Before long, Daisuke would be complaining about his stomach and Taichi would insist on sleeping in and the year would officially begin. For, though, they relished in their friends, the glowing horizon, and each other.

MARCH

“You know, I’ve never understood the point behind a love letter. If you like someone that much, wouldn’t it be easier to tell them in person?” Hikari took another bite of her bento box. Today, her mother had been gracious. Instead of a failed science experiment, Hikari had been able to pack some grilled fish with a small container of rice.

Takeru raised an eyebrow, swallowing the last of his ramen. “I think you only say that because you’ve never gotten a love letter. Personally, I think it takes a lot of craftmanship to be able to express a person’s innermost thoughts on paper.”

She laughed, tilting her head to the side. “Ah, I see. And just how many love letters have you written, Takeru-kun? Is there a special lady I should know about?” Her chopsticks pointed at him accusingly. She seemed tense, but Takeru wasn’t sure if it was her mother’s fish or the context of their conversation.

He could feel his face grow warm while Hikari remained as cool as a cucumber. The unfairness of the situation dawned on him. Takeru, so easily flustered, did not stand a chance against his brunette counterpart. “Ah, um, well-”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’.” She smiled triumphantly.

“Why? Is there something you would like to tell me, Hikari-chan?” he leaned in, stopping just before she could become uncomfortable. Her mahogany eyes peered up from her dark lashes, widening in surprise. His mouth was just a breath away, and Hikari’s heartbeat wildly in her chest.

“O-Of course not, don’t be silly. It’s about time you get a girlfriend. Besides, spring formal is a month away. There’s about fifteen girls dying for you to ask them, and I’m sure there’s at least one girl you would like to take.” Hikari leaned back into her chair, her eyes focusing on cleaning up her mess.

He waited until she was packed up before rising out of his seat. She followed him to the trashcan, silence hanging between them like a weighted blanket. The pair walked towards the back hallway, preparing for their afternoon classes to start.

“You’re right,” He began, pausing in front of her classroom. A few of their peers leaned curiously from their seats. It was rare that Takeru and Hikari were seen together outside of class. “There is someone I want to invite to the dance, but I wouldn’t make to make my bestest friend in the whole wide world jealous.” Takeru pinched her cheek playfully, smiling as she colored. For once, it seemed that he finally had the upper hand. Giggles could be heard from behind them. Hikari seemed to come to her senses and swatted his hand away, taking a step into the classroom.

“You know,” she shot back from the doorway, skirt swaying behind her, “If you ever needed someone to practice writing love letters for, I’d be happy to proofread it for you.” She winked at him, a teasing glint in her eyes.

MAY

After the fifth failed attempt, Takeru tossed his phone onto his bed. Yamato’s tour was in full swing, and it had been weeks since he had last heard from him.

“Are you ready yet, baby?” His mother’s blue eyes peered in from his bedroom door. She raised an eyebrow at the state of his room. “What’s all this?” She kicked a ball of crumpled paper in Takeru’s direction.

“Mom! At least knock first; I could have been naked!” He rolled his eyes in annoyance. Ignoring her questions, he turned back to the mirror. With a thin comb and a stolen bottle of his brother’s hair gel, Takeru attempted to style his hair to resemble some handsome anime character. Once he was finished, he turned towards the doorway for approval. His mother grinned, admiring his sideways part.

“Come here, I need to straighten your tie.” Her hands felt like a cool breeze against his neck, and it was only then that he realized how warm he was. Glancing down at his watch, his pulse quickened.

“Momma, I have to get going soon; she’s waiting for me.”

Her fingers finished twisting the fabric, resting just above her son’s heart. “Kaori-san?” The disappointment in her voice was undeniable, and Takeru couldn’t help but to share the sentiment. Kaori was the student council president, overall a lovely girl. She had silky blond hair that reach her hips and green eyes that put sapphires to shame. Boys would often pull at her locks, teasing her until she would blush. Kaori seemed to like the attention, giggling like a banshee whenever the opposite sex would approach.

As of last night, she was also the only girl that didn’t have a date to the spring formal.

Takeru only nodded, toeing the crushed papers around his feet. It was his own fault, really. By the time he had worked up the nerve to look Hikari in her eyes, Daisuke has swept her away. It didn’t help that he dangled his date with Hikari in front of Takeru as if he were a dog, but the blond couldn’t shake the settled look in her eyes.

She had turned down several boys before, almost waiting until the last possible moment like Takeru. ‘Daisuke-kun must have bribed her.’ If Yamato had answered the phone, he might have given Takeru the boost of encouragement (re: kick in the ass) that he needed.

The blond struggled with his civility. Kaori, dressed in green satin, insisted on taking pictures. After the seventeenth click of camera, his cheeks became sore. Walking to the gymnasium had been another ordeal. Kaori was talkative, but the excitement of a first date made her unbearable. As she rattled on about tennis matches and brands of shampoo, Takeru let his eyes glaze over. He missed comfortable silence and the girl that spoke with soft smiles.

‘I’m being ridiculous,’ he thought, struggling to hold back tears as he held another girl in his arms. Across the ballroom, Hikari struggled to keep Daisuke’s hands in place. With each dance, they seemed to slip lower on her hips. She had told him twice already to cut it out.

His palms danced across her lower back. “Daisuke-kun, I told you to stop!” Hikari pulled away, cheeks coloring with indignation. With a scoff, his eyes flickered with anger. “You’re the one that said yes to me, Hikari-chan. I think you know what you got yourself into.”

Her mahogany eyes searched for a familiar mop of blond hair; her rescuer. “This would have never of happened if I went with Takeru-kun instead.” Hikari eyed Daisuke, daring him to come closer. She had enough of his unwanted advantages. Takeru hadn’t picked up on any of her hints, but she couldn’t bear going to her final middle school dance alone. Daisuke had been her only choice.

“It always comes back to him, doesn’t it?” Daisuke raised his voice, and Hikari could feel Takeru’s blue eyes burn into her. Heads turned at the commotion. “You know what? I’m done, Hikari-san. If you want to be with him, just do it. Next time, leave me out of it.” With a huff, Daisuke disappeared, burgundy hair slipping through the gymnasium doors. A crowd had formed around the pair, Hikari standing helpess in the middle.

Takeru tensed as Daisuke raised his voice, preparing himself to intervene. Before he could interject himself, the boy was gone and Kaori had a vice grip on his arm. Hikari’s face grew splotchy, the first sign of tears. Takeru tugged his arm free, sparing his date a look of remorse. “I’m sorry,” he offered, gentley touching Kaori’s hand. “Hikari-chan needs me.”

“Go to her.” Kaori had been insufferable the entire night, but in the moment, Takeru swore he could have kissed her. Without a reply, he weaved through the mass of people, tugging Hikari away from their wandering eyes.

The cool, night air enveloped them as Takeru pulled Hikari to the swing sets. They sat down beside each other, absorbed in their own thoughts. Despite her flushed cheeks and swollen eyes, Hikari was perfect. Her hair fell in loose waves at her shoulders, a glitter hair clip holding her bangs hostage. Glitter had been brushed across her eyelids, catching in the light. Takeru’s breath caught in his throat. It was now or never. His silence must have unnerved Hikari, her eyes trailing him nervously.

“I’ve got to get this off my chest,” he started, voice unnaturally loud in the quiet twilight. “I’m sorry, this is going to be weird for you, but I just can’t keep pushing it down. You might not want to speak to me again, and it might ruin everything but...I have feelings for you. Really strong feelings. I know you were kind of with Daisuke-san, so I know that I may be too late. I just… couldn’t fathom living my life without telling you how I felt. That would have been my biggest regret.” Hands shaking, he focused on the gravel underneath the swing. There it was, out in the open. He couldn’t crumple up that love letter.

The silence seemed to stretch on forever. Tears burned in his blue eyes, convinced his feelings were one-sided. As he opened his mouth in apology, Hikari found her voice.

“Wait! What? Who told you I was with Daisuke-san of all people?” Her heart was beating too fast and too loud for her to be able to focus on the gravity of his words. She could feel a warmth rush to her cheeks, staining the tips of her ears. Takeru watched these emotions skirt around her face, the smallest bit of hope igniting in his chest.

“I just assumed. I mean, you went to the dance together, Well, before he left.”

An incredulous laugh slipped between her lips. “Takeru-kun, I only went with Daisuke-san because you didn’t ask me. I was waiting for you.”

His heart was singing. Hikari’s laugh seemed to wipe gravity away; Takeru was floating. His cheeks were pink, pulse erratic. “You…feel that same way?” Hikari must have super-human hearing, as his voice was barely a whisper.

“Yes,” she whispered, and Takeru swore that this would be a moment to remember the rest of his life.

#takari week #takari #takeru takaishi #hikari yagami

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