#i would just go to bed but i need to let my bread rise at least a little bit Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[dubacheryking]

my head is going to fucking explode<3

[ja3yun]

Melting Point | P.SH | CH.1

brother's rival!sunghoon x fem!reader warnings: heavily suggestive, kissing, perv!hoon, mentions of self doubt and overthinking, yn's mum is an asshole, anything else lmk! ch.1 synopsis: when circumstances unexpectedly bring you and your brother's long-time ice skating rival, park sunghoon, together, you discover a surprising connection. However, your brother forbids any relationship between you. Will you heed his advice or follow your heart? wc: 14.3k masterlist | next a/n: hi! first chapter is finally here and i hope you all like it. each chapter will be released on friday and roughly between 10k - 16k (since people wanted longer chapters, however, i am open to any feedback regarding lengths). enjoy and please leave any comments/likes/reblogs if you wish !! also, peep the new header

‘We’re dancing, dancing, dancing in the moonlight.'

The blaring of your alarm pulls you from the cocoon of sleep, and you groan into your pillow. The idea of getting up before 6 am feels like a crime, yet here you are, abruptly awakened at 4:30 am by the dulcet tones of TO1.

With a begrudging sigh, you reach for your phone, dismissing the alarm, and then collapse back, staring at the ceiling. This routine has been a part of your life since childhood, and you'd think you'd be accustomed to it by now. However, no matter how early you sleep, removing yourself from the warmth of your bed remains a daily struggle.

You can hear your brother and mum scooting around downstairs, their usual ‘Do you have everything?’, ‘Where are the car keys?’, ‘Get your sister’ conversations louder than they need to be at this time in the day. The last one does mean you better get a move on and go downstairs.

While you put on your peach-flavoured chapstick, your brother bursts into your room, “Hurry up, Y/N.” His eyes roll and he slams the door shut as quickly as he opens it.

You have had the same routine since you were 6 years old. Same exchanges, same panic, same everything. 

Minhee, your older brother, is the reason you have this same routine. When he was 6 years old, Mum took you and him ice skating for the first time and he was a natural. His feet took to the ice like fish to water, like chocolate to strawberries, like you to garlic bread. It was fated. By 7 years old he was already training and what was once a fun hobby turned into a gruelling regime of early rises and the need for a good winter jacket.

“2 minutes!” You shout down to them, one quick glance over in the mirror to make sure you look presentable.  

Running down the stairs you’re greeted by your impatient mum tapping her foot, “Come on, Y/N we really can’t be late today. Coach Kim needs us there as soon as possible. Big announcement.” Her hands are flapping around animated as she speaks, “I think he’s finally going to let Minhee try that quadruple axel we’ve been begging him to let him do for Nationals!”

Your brother looks disinterested, “Mum, he’s already said it’s out of my depth.” His tone is bitter.

Minhee was amazing at ice skating, winning so many medals your mum had you move out of your double room to the box one so she could display them all. By 10 he was the youngest ever in your city to reach state championships and by 14 he was competing at the National level. It did make him the golden, silver, and bronze child in your family, but you didn’t mind all that much - not that you would tell her it did. 

It’s not like you’re doing anything half as impressive as winning trophies, now that was what your mother truly found pride in. You could become a CEO or a lawyer but if you couldn’t hit a toe loop worthy of gold it wouldn’t impress her.

You did try skating when you were younger but it was like you turned into Bambi, never able to find your feet. Even when it snows in winter you can’t hold yourself up. Deep down your mum hoped you would be just like Minhee, creating an opportunity for you both to branch into pair figure skating like the Shib Sibs but no matter how many times Minhee tried to teach you or she got his coach to give you a few free pointers, you couldn’t do it. She’s disappointed and quite frankly you think she holds a grudge against you for not being anything like your amazing, spectacular, talented brother.

But you still loved to watch the sport, how efficiently and painlessly each skater would glide across the ice and do manoeuvres that defied gravity. It was a magical sport, so when your mum dragged you along to every practice because she couldn’t afford a babysitter, you didn’t mind all that much.

Tying up your final lace you stand up from the bottom step and Minhee passes you your black jacket with faux fur lining. You mutter a quick ‘thanks’ before grabbing your book bag and all three of you head to the car.

"What if it's the Olympics!" Squealing, your mother fastens her seatbelt. What if it was the Olympics? Despite consistently finishing in the top three, if not first, in most major competitions in his teenage years, his coach never selected him for the Youth Olympic Games. But now that he’s 20 years old, he could compete in the Olympics.

Your brother looks sideways at your mother and widens his eyes, "You think so?" It was his dream to make it to the Olympics, and even if he didn't win, he wanted to experience everything; the different country, being surrounded by the best of the best - he had been planning his routine for it forever. 

There is a little envious man who climbs up on your shoulder from time to time when conversations like this happen. Of course, you would be so happy for Minhee, after all, he works harder than anyone you know but you wish it was you. Not necessarily the skating part, but to be so good at something you have a goal and dreams that take you to the top. Just something to make you feel alive.

You’re in your 2nd year of University studying Events and Marketing after your mum said it would be good for you to learn how to pitch reasons why Minhee would be a great brand ambassador. So you did it to please her. Honestly, you actually do enjoy it, you won’t lie about that, but the lack of appreciation for your efforts goes unnoticed 99% of the time. The 1% was when you got to shadow a boss at a Nike headquarters branch a few cities over.

“Get a good word in for Minhee while you’re there!”

She was proud of you that day.

As the car rolls up to the rink’s parking lot your mother turns serious, “If this is about choosing you for the Olympics, Min, you need to act excited and unexpectant, they may be filming a behind-the-scenes documentary on your journey to a gold medal.” 

Image. Your mum was big on keeping Minhee’s reputation on brand. Right now his ‘brand’ is being humble and noble.

“Yes mum,” he salutes, “Smile and flutter.” Winking and smirking as he mocks his usual signature poses causes you to laugh but your mum finds nothing funny and her change in aura scares both of you out of the car.

_____

The usually quiet ice rink is filled with chatter and chaos, with over 20 people speaking over each other. Minhee looks down at you and you shrug. None of you had any clue what was going on but if your years of watching Detective Conan paid off you would say that whatever caused this commotion was the reason the coach asked Minhee to come in as quickly as possible.

Customarily, at this time in the morning, it’s Minhee’s solo practice hours to work on his routine for Nationals so this many people here is concerning.

“Listen!” Coach Kim’s voice bellowed around the arena putting the chattering to a halt, “I know this is untimely and inconvenient, trust me, it is for me too,” Your eyes follow his and see another coach standing about 2 meters from him, “But we need to make this work and to do that I need you to listen to me.”

As your family approaches the disarray, Coach Kim beckons you all forward. Minhee is the first to ask the all too important question, “What’s going on, Coach?” The people behind you scatter and begrudgingly tread out of the building, their faces glum and disgruntled.

“Minhee, Ms. Kang, Y/N,” Coach Kim greets you all, “Sorry about all that, although telling them was a lot less scary than you.”

“What? Is this place shutting down?” Minhee jokes but by the look on Coach Kim’s face he isn’t far off. 

“Not exactly.” Scratching his neck, Coach Kim looks everywhere but Minhee’s eyes, “You know the Albion Centre? The rink on the other side of town?” All three of you nod despite that he’s only talking to your brother, “Well the council had a little meeting last week and they’re turning it fully into a Hockey training centre.”

The words sit in the air as he hopes Minhee will come to the conclusion himself, “So what? Just means more time for skating here right? If all the Hockey team are going over there?” 

Sighing, the coach nods, “For sure, but it also means every skater from there will be, well, here.” He gestures around and then points half-heartedly at the other Coach who is stepping forward.

“Kang Minhee, it’s great to meet you properly, I’ve heard nothing but great things,” he extends his hand which your brother accepts, still dazed from the information, “I’m Coach Lee.”

“Wait so, EVERY skater in the town will be here? in Belmore? Coach Kim, that's not possible, my training time will be cut!” Minhee is sulking but you don’t blame him. This is a fucked up situation.

Coach Lee answers, “Not true, Minhee, with the Hockey team over at Albion it frees up some ice time, you’ll get to train more if you want to.” 

“And! No more shield guards around the rink, you always hated those!” Coach Kim smiles and playfully punches his chest.

There is something the Coaches aren’t telling him. Like they’re presenting him with all the benefits before hitting him with a bombshell. You know it and for sure your mother knows it. She has been eerily quiet throughout the whole exchange, if there is one thing more unsettling than her shouting, it’s her silence.

“Albion, huh?” She steps forward and tapers her eyes, “Isn’t that the rink where the Parks are located? And aren’t you Lee Jaeho? The coach of that snake ‘Ice Prince’?”

Tension spreads around everyone’s shoulders, the Coaches can’t look at her, and none of you move. 

A loud click echoes throughout the rink as someone walks through the door.

“Coach what the fuck?” The voice booms behind you, “Why did I have to drive almost an hour to come here, why couldn’t we just meet at Albi?” 

Park Sunghoon. 

What’s that saying? Speak of the devil and he shall appear? His mother shuffles in behind him, vocalising her own distaste for being here as if it were the most inconvenient thing in the world. Little do they know…

It’s like the world stops when Sunghoon and Minhee see each other and not in a rom-com way, “What the fuck is HE doing here?” Sunghoon points to Minhee, not taking his eyes off him. 

“This is MY rink, Park.”

Sunghoon and Minhee have been competitors since they were 9 years old. Each of them competes against one another in every competition, always striving for first place. It began as healthy competition, and they were even friends at one point, but as they grew older and each mother became increasingly determined to claim their kid was superior to the others, a rivalry developed. If one of them did something, the other had to outdo it tenfold.

When Minhee learned how to do a double axel, Sunghoon learned a triple. When Sunghoon landed his Euler jumps, Minhee was landing an Euler but following it up with a Salchow. When Minhee won the Junior Silver Medal in 2015, Sunghoon won the Junior Gold Medal in 2016.

It was always like this.

Their similarities didn’t help either, both 20, towering at 6”0, and blessed with faces that effortlessly drew admiring glances from girls. Objectively, you’ve only really seen the attraction to Sunghoon given that Minhee is your brother, however, you're not blind to the bevvy of girls who gravitate towards him either. This is precisely why your mother insisted on Minhee maintaining his brand, which stood in stark contrast to Sunghoon's.

He wasn’t rude or stuck up, actually from what you’ve perceived from afar, he is kind and gentle. But unlike your brother's ‘humble’ persona, Sunghoon knows he’s good and will tell anyone about it. Sunghoon’s confidence is easily mistaken for haughtiness. He can come across as arrogant and cocky, just like those sports journalists have been branding him for years like he thinks he’s better than anyone else past and present. 

Having been to every competition Minhee has skated in has led you to know a few things about Park Sunghoon. He was arguably the best skater in the division, even over Minhee, he was determined, hard-working, resilient, and fit as fuck.

To say you used to have a crush on him would be the understatement of the century, matter of fact it was so obvious back then that your mum would often reprimand you for staring at him too long. He was your first crush, you were 8 and he was 9, and like some girls that age you planned out a wedding, a future of 2 dogs and you’d both live in a pink palace. At first, it was his looks, no one in your primary school looked that pretty or even shone a torch compared to him. It was like seeing an angel for the first time. But then you started to grow up, and while still appreciating his face, you focused on how beautifully he skated and how majestic he moved. He was so passionate about the sport it made you feel butterflies, you hadn’t seen love like that before. Sunghoon and the rink were fated to be together. 

“Sunghoon, calm down.” His coach whispered, “We need to tell you something-”

“I am NOT sharing my rink with that fucking z-list prick, alright?” Minhee didn’t hold back, he got that anger from your mother.

Turning to his coach, Sunghoon raised his eyebrows, “What does he mean sharing?”

Both Coaches exhaled. You can’t imagine how many times they have had to explain this situation, they probably should have just sent out an email. So as Coach Lee takes Sunghoon and his mum to the side, Coach Kim is looking at Minhee apologetically, “I’m sorry, Minhee. I know he’s your biggest competition, and trust me, I don’t exactly love this outcome either,” rubbing a hand down his exhausted face he whispers, “but work with me here. I’ve scheduled you guys at different times, you won’t even need to see him.”

“That’s not the point, Coach, you know how I feel about him.”

If it wasn’t for your mum you seriously ponder whether Minhee would have such a strong hatred for the fellow ice skater, and as you look at Sunghoon you wonder the same thing.

“I know trust me, you and your mother make that perfectly clear every time we cross them at comps, but you just gotta live with it, son.” 

The coaches come back together and look at both of their young prodigies, “Minhee you’ll train morning, and Sunghoon you’ll train nights. Because of the merger of rinks, we have an excessive number of skaters, so we are making it a 24-hour arena but ONLY for you two and Wonyoung since Nationals are coming up.” Both coaches nodded their heads as if agreeing with themselves that this was a good choice, “So if you happen to turn up at the same time, you respect each others’ space and behave like grown men. Got it?”

Grumbling, your brother rolls his eyes, and Sunghoon nods. This is going to be a disaster.

Just as you think all bickering would be over, the mothers start chasing after the coaches as they head into the office. You felt bad for the trainers having to deal with this and getting blamed for it all, but most importantly, you feel sorry for them because they have to listen to both your mum and Mrs. Park for at least an hour.

Once the door to their office shut, it was silent, the only noise coming from the large ACs. 

Scared to look any of them in the eye you place a hand on Minhee’s arm, “Come on, you need to practice.”

“Emphasis on the ‘need’.” Sunghoon pipes up and you wish he hadn’t. You were a fool to think this parting would be civil.

Minhee pokes his tongue in his cheek and looks at his rival, “You got something to say?” He’s challenging Sunghoon, baiting him to start something, but Sunghoon doesn’t budge, “Better watch my skate doesn’t somehow come flying off and slit you open.” Minhee was all bark and no bite, you knew this, but he seems deadly serious right now.

“Is that a threat?” Sunghoon stands tall against Minhee.

“It’s a fucking promise, Park.” 

No one says anything else, they don’t have to, the look in their eyes is scary as they stand toe to toe with one another. “Let’s go, Mini.” You squeak out his nickname. By no means are you a timid person but you don’t want to interject and suddenly find yourself in the firing line. 

With a grunt, your brother obeys and storms out and into the changing rooms, leaving you and Sunghoon alone.

His stern eyes flicker to your soft ones, it’s been a while since you’ve been this close to him, close enough to admire him. His black hair is fluffy and unstyled unlike how it is usually when you see him at competitions, the bags under his eyes prove how hard he’s working whether at skating or general life and the freckles that are perfectly placed on his face suddenly look more ethereal than before. Sunghoon is the epitome of beauty.

While you’re staring you fail to notice how he is staring right back at you, taking in all your features like he’s trying to commit them to memory. He hasn’t seen you since Sectionals which didn’t seem like that long ago but to him, it feels like a lifetime. You’ve cut your hair since then and Sunghoon noticed.

Meeting his eyes once again you see how they sparkle, just like they do when he’s on the ice.

“Sorry for my brother, he can be-”

“A dick?”

“A lot,” Your tone is filled with warning. Sunghoon might have been right but that’s still your brother, “He can be a lot but you already know that.”

Walking up to you, he tilts his head and smiles softly, “Don’t start apologising for him now, Sweets.” He leans so his face meets yours, “Or else you’ll be apologising your whole life.” 

Sunghoon pats your head and makes his way to the coach's office, leaving you mesmerised.

______

Minhee and Sunghoon have successfully kept their distance from each other for the past two weeks, which has been a relief to everyone. If this pattern continues, there is hope that everything will just be a harmonious as before the merge.

Although the rink was now open for their disposal, you were never more grateful. No, it wasn’t for you, the coaches explicitly said it was for the future medalists, but you knew the receptionist for the building and she would let you away with anything if you batted your lashes and gave her a box of Toffees. 

Growing up at the rink meant you found solace in the atmosphere and surroundings, so much so that you went there to simply study, the arena oddly hugging you in comfort while you tore the hair from your head. Skaters and staff became your friends with how much time you’ve spent in the bleachers. Typically, it would be during the day with what little spare time you had, but with the building being open around the clock it means you can inhabit the premises in the middle of the night, the perfect time to get your head down and work.

That is where you are headed right now just after your shift at the supermarket. It was as painful as ever with customers not understanding that you don’t make the prices, or that no you cannot watch their baby while they run for a jug of milk. It’s baffling how dense some people can be. 

The rink is a nice place to relax and get away from it all.

Pushing open the door you see the receptionist, Miss Barbara, filing her nails. She was a friendly woman, the kind type, but when Coach Kim told her she would have to work some nights she wasn’t so sweet and caring, not to him anyway.

Her real name is just Barbara but as the years went on, she adopted this regal persona and insisted everyone call her Miss or Ma’am. Only you and Minhee gave in to her request though.

“Hi, Miss Barbara,” You wave. Reaching into your white tote bag you retrieve her bribes, eh, goodies, and pass them to her. 

With much delight, she wiggles her fingers and slips them from the desk into her lap, “Y/N you are my favourite person that walks through those doors!” Her eyes are trained on the sweets rather than you when she speaks which makes you chuckle.

“Glad I can be held in such high regard, Miss Barbara,” You change your accent to a posh one and wave like a Queen in her tiny town car. Lifting her head, Miss Barbara sees your roleplay and laughs, dismissing you into the rink.

As you step into the arena, the chill of the air greets you, accompanied by the soothing sound of skates slicing through the ice. Finding your way to the centre of the second row of bleachers, you settle in, unpacking your bag and gracefully arranging your belongings. Crossing your legs to create space for your laptop and paper, you deftly balance everything, a skill you've honed to perfection.

Typing in your password you hear the skates coming towards you and scraping to a halt but you don’t look up.

“If you’ve come to spy on my routine you aren’t doing a very good job at hiding.” Sunghoon playfully remarks. You hadn’t even noticed it was him who was skating, since it was usually Wonyoung gracing the ice you just expected it to be her. He looks at your mess of a lap and scrunches his full eyebrows, “Like you’re really not making it discrete.” 

You look up and see him pointing to your laptop, “Oh, no I’m just studying.” Returning to typing you hear him scoff, making you look at him again.

“You expect me to believe that?” The look on his face is incredulous when you don’t budge, “What? Don’t they have libraries at your Uni?”

Sunghoon’s tone is accusatory and you don’t like it. “Look, I don’t have beef with you okay? That’s the wrong Kang sibling.” There is no reason for him to be giving you attitude right now, you hadn’t done anything wrong, an innocent bystander in all this. 

Deep down he knew that too, but he couldn’t be too careful.

Crossing his arms, he leans on top of the barrier and rests his chin, examining you and how much you’re telling the truth, “So, what? You genuinely just sit here and study? Does the cold stimulate your brain or something?” 

“No, it’s like white noise at this point, comforting.” Glancing up you see his still dubious expression, “Ugh, look I come here all the time, ask anyone!” Your arms gesturing to the empty rink is not really helping your case.

Having had enough you slam the laptop shut and stand up, “Whatever, I’ll just go somewhere else.”

Sunghoon shoots his arms up to mock surrender, “Woah, Sweets, calm down, I was just making sure. Need to air on the side of caution, yeah?” His voice softens. 

Making you uncomfortable wasn’t on his list of things to do, but his mum made it very clear your whole family wasn’t to be trusted, and he always heeded his mother's warnings even if he thought she was being overdramatic. “Listen, stay here as long as you want but if I see your brother doing a double toe loop into a triple axel I know who to blame.” 

With a smirk, you sit back down, “See now you’ve just told me your big secret,” a laugh leaves your lips, “Changed your mind on trusting a Kang so soon huh?” 

He’s flabbergasted. 

Did he really just tell you part of his routine like it was nothing, in an instant after he just told himself not to be so trusting of you?  You’re more dangerous than he first thought, and you aren’t even trying.

After seeing the realisation come over his face you laugh loudly, “Sunghoon, don’t worry. My brother can handle you on his own, he doesn’t need to cheat to beat you.”

“Say that to my 8 first places over him.”  It goes silent. It’s not like you could argue with him, Sunghoon did beat Minhee in a lot of skates. 

Trying to lighten the mood he points to you, “No pictures.” He jokes and skates away adroitly.

You don’t see the smile creeping onto his face, or the way tries to shake you out of his head. That conversation between you made him want it to be the start of many more, much more.

________

Emerging from your room, you're taken aback to find your mom standing right at your door, narrowly avoiding a collision. Both of you gasp and instinctively clutch your chests. "Jesus, Y/N, you scared me," she exclaims. Ignoring the fact that she's lingering around your room, you offer an apology, which she quickly dismisses. "A letter came for you," she informs you, handing over the manila envelope before walking away. At least she isn't one of those moms who loiter and wait for you to open it; she doesn't fuss over things like that. Or perhaps, she doesn't fuss over you.

Abandoning your plan to head to the kitchen for a cup of tea, you return to your bed and sprawl across it, letting your legs dangle off the edge. With a swift motion, you tear open the envelope and unfold the letter, eagerly scanning its contents.

Dear Y/N Kang,

At Yonsei University, our students consistently impress us with their dedication and commitment to excellence. Each year, we have the privilege of acknowledging one outstanding student whose remarkable progress merits special recognition. This year, we are delighted to announce that you have been selected as the top student of Yonsei University.

In light of your exceptional achievements, we would be honoured to celebrate your success by presenting you with an award. A special ceremony, bringing together top students from across the city, will be held on the 23rd of September at 7 pm in the historic Cathedral adjacent to our university campus. You are welcome to bring a plus one to share in this momentous occasion.

Congratulations once again on this well-deserved honour.

You skim-read the rest, and a triumphant smile creeps onto your face. There's no conceivable way you're at the top of the University this year - perhaps the top of your year, but the entire university? It feels like a surreal, sick joke. Investigating the envelope, you spot the official stamp of Yonsei. It's real.

Bounding down the stairs, you find your mum and brother already seated at the dining table, ready for dinner, "Mum, Mini, look!" You flap the paper in their faces, excitement bubbling within you. Your mum tuts and carefully opens the letter, reading it with precision. You're searching for any sign of a reaction, but nothing surfaces. She simply places it down and checks her phone.

You sit down gingerly, awaiting her acknowledgement, hoping for some form of appreciation, "Hmm, thought so." Clicking the lock on her phone, she sets it aside, "Sorry, Y/N, Minhee has a schedule that day."

"But aren't you happy for me?" You ask, your excitement dampening. It's not just about the ceremony; it's about the achievement itself. She should be proud of you, "I'm at the top of my university."

"Yes, you are, darling," your mum responds, her tone lacking enthusiasm. Normally, it wouldn't bother you, but this is a big deal, huge even, and she couldn't spare you the time of day to at least pretend to be happy for you.

Your heart sinks, and the elation you felt a moment ago dissipates. She really did not care, and the void of her indifference casts a shadow over your significant accomplishment.

Minhee places a comforting hand on your shoulder, sensing your disappointment. "Top of the class, huh? Finally, you get one of your awards in my trophy room." His attempt at humour falls flat in the weight of the moment. Minhee notices your lack of response, withdrawing his hand and sinking into silence, his gaze fixed downward.

“We just can’t go, your brother has an advertisement to film that day, we’ve been planning it for months. You understand.”

You had no choice but to understand.

“Yes, Mum.” The acceptance cuts deep. You've never blamed Minhee for the uneven distribution of favouritism; it wasn't his fault, yet, the sting of yearning for a moment in the spotlight, just once, remains. The chair you rise from screeches against the floor. "I need to go tell my friends about it."

There isn’t a protest from her, so you slip out quietly. Minhee extends a hand toward you, a silent gesture of support, but you don’t bother acknowledging it. The door closes behind you, leaving a trail of unresolved emotions lingering in the air.

In truth, you didn’t want to tell your friends right now, when you tell them you want it to be a happy occasion, not tarnished by your mum's attitude.

How could she be so nonchalant about the fact that you achieved such an award? You weren’t looking for bells and whistles but a simple ‘Well done, Y/N.’ would have sufficed. Was it too much to ask for? You did all this for her, after all. 

A deja vu of last week, you push the heavy doors to the Belmore Centre, greeting Miss Barbara before heading to the rink.

The familiar scent of ice and warm rubber infiltrates your nose, offering solace and temporarily numbing the thoughts swirling in your mind. The rink, with its unique aura, never fails to bring you a sense of contentment.

As you take your usual seat, you can't help but notice an unusual absence of the rhythmic sound of skates cutting through the ice. It's just past 8 pm, yet the rink is eerily silent. For a change, it's pure bliss, the absence of the usual hustle and bustle providing an unexpected sanctuary.

Sitting with your head in your hands, you succumb to overthinking. If only you could have skated and achieved something that your mum could be proud of. What would it take?

A tear slips down your cheek, and you're oblivious to the approaching presence.

Sunghoon’s smile is subtle as he takes in your dishevelled appearance. You’re not in your usual jacket, in fact, you look like you've hastily run out of the house as if you were just popping into the shop for milk.

With your hands buried in your head, he hears a sniffle, realizing that you're crying, “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Sunghoon drops his bag and skates as he rushes over to you, concern all over his face. 

Shaking your head you just cry harder as your brain screams at you. It is so loud you can’t hear anything else, certainly not the boy sitting next to you.

He rubs your back to calm you down but to no avail. Instead, you cry harder and he doesn’t know what to do. Sunghoon isn’t exactly an expert when it comes to crying girls, “Sweets, stop crying.” Great, Sunghoon, just great, he curses himself, “Umm, no wait, shit, breathe! I’ve heard that works before.” He quickly made the realisation he would never make it as a therapist.

Sunghoon is always so confident and self-assured but right now with you he has no idea how to act.

What he doesn’t realize is that his awkward attempt to console you has genuinely worked. Sunghoon fumbling over his words gives you something to focus on, and hearing him mutter to himself about how awful he is at this makes you laugh. It’s a small laugh but one that breaks through the heaviness of the moment.

Hearing your laughter, Sunghoon whips his head to face you, his hand continuing to rub soothing circles on your back. “What happened, Y/N?” His voice carries a gentle concern, inviting you to share, but you just shake your head, not ready to delve into the details. “Nah, come on. Whatever it is has really upset you. It’s better to talk about it.”

His voice resonates with a soothing calmness, making you feel like you could confide in him about anything.

“I just feel like I'm not good enough and that anything I do will never meet her standards,” you shrug, expressing the weight of self-doubt that has been dragging you down.

“Ah, it’s your mum, right?” His lips purse as he gazes ahead to the rink. The elude to ‘her’ being his only anchor of reasoning.

Your silence serves as confirmation. Sunghoon, all too familiar with the feeling of not being enough, understands your pain. But in this moment, it's not about him. He can only offer superficial advice, “If you live your life based on other's expectations, you’ll never be truly happy.”

“Says the competitive figure skater,” you lightly laugh, a hint of sadness slowly dissipating from your face.

Sunghoon pauses the reassuring circles between your shoulders and sighs, “You got me there.” You were right; who was he to tell you to stop living for other people when that’s all he has ever done since he was 6?

Seeing how his shoulders slump, you worry you might have hit a nerve. “Hey, I didn’t me—”

“Do you want to do something reckless?” The sudden switch from sadness to confidence confuses you, and you gaze at him as if he has two heads. It's remarkable how quickly he pulled himself out of his own thoughts, and you can't help but feel a twinge of envy.

When you don’t respond, he pushes the idea further, “Come on, Sweets. Didn’t have you as the type to say no to a little fun.”

“There's a big difference between reckless and fun, so which is it?” you ask.

“Come and find out.” He smirks, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Suddenly, Sunghoon springs to his feet and yanks you out of your seat, propelling you into whatever scheme he has up his sleeve. As his hand interlocks with yours, a peculiar flutter dances in your stomach.

“Where are we going?” You glance around as he drags you past the rink and into the back rooms. "What’s so fun about plain grey walls and 'Employee of the Month' posters?”

Sunghoon simply rolls his eyes in response to your question.

The next thing you know, you're in a warehouse-like room, surrounded by old skating equipment, acrylite shields you've seen hockey players collide with, and an army of mannequins. 

What somehow escapes your notice is the giant red Zamboni that Sunghoon is confidently strolling towards.

Seeing you mesmerized by the mannequins, Sunghoon waits for you to turn around, but you're too engrossed in the plastic figures to notice him. “Looking for your next boyfriend in there?” he teases, his voice slicing through the silence of the room.

Jumping at the unexpected remark, you hastily remove your hand from one of the figures' chests and whip around. Sunghoon leans against the Zamboni, a tilted smirk gracing his face, hands tucked casually in his trouser pockets. Embarrassed, you mumble a quick 'shut up' and shuffle over to him. To be honest, those dummies probably would have offered a more exciting conversation than most men.

Your eyes finally land on the Zamboni. It gleams, proudly bearing the bold inscription 'Zamboni Campbell' on the side. A few years ago, Coach Kim, in a moment of whimsy, had asked people to name the ‘new love in his life’ through a Facebook post. Some 7-year-old had chosen 'Zamboni Campbell.' It might not have been the most clever name, but considering his age, you let it slide. 

“Please stop leaning on Zamboni Campbell; she’s a national treasure,” you interject, half-joking. If anything were to happen to her, you imagine Coach Kim might have an aneurysm.

The figure skater scoffs and pushes himself off the machine, “She’s no Zamby Malik.” He jokes, “My baby boy is probably being abused right now.” The comment raises an eyebrow; what is it with some people and their weird fascination for anything with a motor? Your expression remains neutral as Sunghoon looks at you. “Zamby Malik? Albion’s Zamboni? Named after Zayn Malik?” he questions.

“Yeah, got that reference, thanks.” Stepping forward, your eyes meet his. “I have been a Niall worshipper for many, many years,” you say proudly. You’ve been a dedicated fan of Niall and all the One Direction boys forever.

“Eh, more of a Louis girl myself,” Sunghoon shrugs and turns to face the ice resurfacer. “So, how badly have you ever wanted to ride her?” His hands rub together in a way that eerily resembles a villain plotting an evil scheme.

Nope. Absolutely not. You're not getting on that thing. For one, Coach Kim would undoubtedly kill you both if he found out. He loves the Zamboni more than his own children. And two, you have no idea how to operate it. Disaster is inevitable. “I am not getting on that thing!” 

Sunghoon gives you a look that says ‘Of course, you are getting on that thing.’ but he can give you all the looks he wants, you are not doing it.

“Sweets, you need to have a go. It’ll help whatever is going on in that pretty little head of yours.” Sunghoon's hand playfully ruffles your hair before he strides towards the steps of the Zamboni.

Fixing your hair consciously, you find yourself following him. “How will it help exactly? When I die from crashing it or at the hands of Coach Kim, at least I'll be free of my thoughts?”

Sunghoon spins around, and you walk right into his chest. “I was thinking more along the lines of a clear rink, clear mind, but your reasoning works too, I suppose.” His hands grip your shoulders and push you at arm's length. “So?”

As you weigh up your options, for him, there's only one option – getting you behind the wheel of Zamboni Campbell.

“I don’t know how to drive it though, Sunghoon.” That would surely deter him from this ridiculous idea. But it doesn't.

“Duh,” His eyes rolled once again, “I’ll teach you obviously.” 

It’s at that moment you understand that regardless of how long you’ve known him, you don’t actually know him. In fact, you haven’t even had a conversation this long before.

“Since when did you know how to ride a Zamboni?” You inquire and Sunghoon removes his hands from your shoulders, running his fingers through his hair. God, he is so handsome.

“You learn a thing or two being on the ice so long.” 

The truth is, he was constantly pestering the maintenance guy at Albion to clean the ice before his practice. He got so fed up hearing Sunghoon complain he told him to do it himself. So he learned, and ever since, he’s been whizzing on a Zamboni.

You are running out of excuses, and part of you is agreeing with him that this will be good for you. “Fine.”

“That’s a girl!” Sunghoon huffs, and you move to walk up the steps, but he stops you, holding up two fingers. “Two things first.”

Removing his long liquorice-colored coat, he gently places it on your shoulders. The warmth lingering from his body heat in the linings of the jacket makes you realize how cold you were. “It gets cold up there,” he says, straightening out the collar.

You push your arms through the holes and wrap yourself up in it. Sunghoon has broad shoulders, so the jacket makes you look ten times smaller than you are, creating a cosy cocoon. 

If he knew it was okay to say, he'd probably tell you how cute you look. For now, he keeps that thought to himself.

Murmuring a polite ‘thank you,’ you're grateful he doesn’t ask why you don't have your jacket. Sunghoon hasn’t pushed you to talk about it at all, and that's something you appreciate.

Sunghoon climbs up and gets situated behind the wheel.

“Wait, you said there were two things?” The jacket is one, and what else?

“Ah, there’s only one seat up here so,” he pats his lap, “You’re going to have to sit on my knee.”

He has to be joking, yet his face looks serious, a tinge of red sneaking onto his neck and ears. He’s blushing. The playful challenge in his eyes mixes with genuine warmth. It's clear he wants to make you smile.

Cute.

“I can’t teach you from down there, now come on up.” He continues.

He won’t give up, apparently, so with a huff, you start scaling the steps, standing at the top and realise how high this thing is. Sunghoon puts his hand out for you to take as he guides you to sit down. “This is super high,” you state patently.

Sunghoon laughs and shakes his head, “You’re just small, Sweets.” His hands go to your waist to stabilise you while you hike one leg over him. “That’s it, not so scary, huh?”

Slowly, you sit down on his lap, getting yourself comfortable. You feel his thighs tense under you. “Oh, am I too heavy?”

Quickly, he shakes his head, “No, not at all, I’ve got legs of steel.” He slaps the side of his thigh and relaxes them a little. Sunghoon won’t say it, but the way you wriggled to get comfy was putting pressure straight on his cock, making him tense up. It would be rude to pop a boner right now no matter how good you feel, given the circumstances.

“So what do I do?”

“Hmm?” He was too busy lost in his thoughts he forgot what he was doing. “Oh, right,” he turns on the machine and guides you through the steps. “So there are six levers, each does their own thing—conditioner, elevation, brush, tyre wash, wash water,” he continues going through the controls.

While he’s explaining, you observe how fast his lips are moving. Is he always this talkative, or is it just with you? A part of you hopes for the latter. “And we are good to go.” He finishes and smiles. You probably should have paid attention because now he’s looking at you expectantly. “You didn’t listen to a word I just said, did you?”

“Something about water being washed?” you bring your shoulders up sheepishly and smile, showing all your teeth.

The look on his face feigns annoyance, “How about I drive and you sit there and look pretty, yeah?” 

Pretty. That’s the second time he's inadvertently called you pretty. 

Sunghoon reaches his arm around you, starting the machine up and driving it onto the rink, his other hand is holding you securely in his lap. The ice resurfacer is in full swing as it sweeps the edges of the rink. You haven’t seen the rink from this angle before and it brings forth a new appreciation.

“Gonna need you to pump for me.”

It takes you a minute to process his words before craning your neck around to look at him, “Excuse me?” You have no idea in what context that sentence couldn’t be laced with innuendo.

He seems unphased, or maybe just unaware of his words double entendre, and points to the right of the machine, “This Zam has a manual wash water lever, you need to pump it for me, Sweets, I can’t reach it with you on my lap.”

Can he please stop saying pump for all that is holy? 

You screw your head back on and see the black lever he is talking about, “This one?” 

His one hand on your hip squeezes slightly when you reach over, “Yeah just lift it up and down, it might be heavy for you so be careful.” 

Sunghoon watches you pump the water washer a few times, you use both hands to grasp the lever so he tightens his hold on your waist to ensure your safety. After he has focused on the task at hand he notices the way your hands are gripped around the lever, your fingers barely able to wrap around it. He can’t stop the next thoughts that come into his head. What he wouldn’t give to have you stroking his cock with those pretty hands.

The next thing he notices is how you’re softly grunting as you put the work in and your arms losing pace due to repetition and tiredness. The scene in front of him isn’t calming his thoughts down any because now he’s thinking if these noises are similar to ones you would make while bouncing on his dick. He feels like a pervert because here you are upset and he’s got crude thoughts of you infiltrating his mind. 

“That’s enough for now, Sweets.” His voice is strained, he could have watched you do that for hours but for the sake of the ice and his dignity, he needs you to stop.

Pulling away and shuffling back to comfort on his lap you smile, “That was weirdly fun. It got some frustration out of me.” 

It’s ironic because frustration has seeped into Sunghoon, horny frustration, and you are so blissfully unaware.

“Wow, look how sparkly it is!” You exclaim as your eyes are glued to the ice behind you. Maybe only once have you seen the rink so clean, but even then it wasn’t like this, it’s practically glistening. Zamboni Campbell needs to pat herself on the back.

The boy steering her also needs to praise himself not just for the excellent resurfacing job, but also for helping you. It’s not until now you see that his plan worked, he got you out of your head and stopped the crippling thoughts that were bound to consume you if you didn’t have this distraction.

Both of you lap the rink 4 times before Sunghoon looks at his handy work and smiles, “She drives like a dream.” He steers back into the warehouse, trying to park the Zamboni close enough to where they found it.

“Better than Zamby Malik?” You tease.

“Never, but she’s not far off.” Sunghoon doesn’t let go of the hold he has on your waist despite the ice resurfacer being stagnant. Instead, he’s slightly massaging your sides, an action you can barely feel because of his coat engulfing your body, but you feel it enough.

Turning around so your legs are draped fully over his thighs, you're about to get off him, but you don't. You should stand up, climb down the steps, and leave it as a nice memory, but this future memory feels too short like there should be something more to it.

Sunghoon feels it too, that’s why he’s staring at you so intensely. The once shallow smile he had on his face now dropped off; his eyes are looking deep into yours, and his hands move up your waist slightly, yet he doesn’t make a move.

This has to be your decision. Something you want.

If there was ever an inappropriate time to think about your brother, it’s when you’re two seconds away from kissing a guy. Minhee’s face flashes in your mind, and you realize what you’re about to do - you’re about to kiss Minhee’s biggest rival, his arch-nemesis, how could you even face your brother if you gave in to this?

Sunghoon watches you while your brain flips out; you don’t look like you’re 100% certain of the idea of his lips on yours. “Sweets?” he squeezes your waist and sighs, “We should get going.”

Oh.

All you’re thinking about is why he didn’t kiss you, and why it hurt a little that he didn’t. It looked like he wanted to; maybe you took too long, or he stared long enough to realize you weren’t actually pretty. You guys don't even know each other well, but you feel yourself being pulled towards him. Wasn’t it the same for him? Your brain went from overthinking one thing to another.

Nodding your head, you stand up carefully and make your way down. You can’t even look at him out of shame and guilt for even entertaining the idea of kissing him. Your mum would be so disappointed if she knew.

Sunghoon follows you down but unlike you he is keeping his eyes fixed on your face, focusing on every change in your manner both positive and negative. He wanted to kiss you but you looked like you were about to pass out from the thought of it. Sunghoon wanted you to be certain, “I’ll drive you home.” 

“No, no it’s fine, I’m not that far from here.” Being in a car with him after this wouldn’t be the best outcome, your mind is still on his lips.

“Please, Y/N, it’s late. I just want to make sure you’re safe. Anything could happen.” Sunghoon doesn’t want you to walk home, yes because of safety concerns, but also because he wants to spend even a fraction of a minute more time with you. You seem to be one of the few people in this world he can relax around.

He should have just kissed you.

The look on his face is serious but his eyes are soft, not asking but begging you to just say yes. 

“Sure.” The atmosphere is heavy, filled with longing and tension. You’re both thinking different things.

You’re analysing every specific detail from tonight to see if you have done something wrong, anything that would have stopped him from kissing you.

And Sunghoon’s brain is filled with various thoughts of you from tonight. The lever, the way you felt so right sitting in his lap, and more importantly how amazing it felt to be the one that made you smile. The way you smiled and giggled on the Zamboni is something he is going to commit to memory. 

As of today, he will start keeping part of his brain solely for you to occupy.

The walk to Sunghoon's car is silent, free of the laughter and conversation that previously filled your space. Both of you appear to be over-analysing each other's previous acts, which makes the situation more awkward than it needs to be.

Sunghoon's car is impressive: a sleek monochrome Peugeot New 2008 with a black interior. The scent of his fresh cologne combines with the ocean-scented tree-shaped air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror.

“This is a nice car.” You note, buckling up your seatbelt.

“She’s a beaut, isn’t she? Got her as part of a brand deal with Peugeot Sport.” His hands caress the smooth wheel and his lips upturn into a proud smile. Brand deals and advertisements are not what you want to hear about right now, especially when it’s the one thing your mum cared about instead of your award. Your sour mood doesn’t go unnoticed, “Let’s get you home, yeah?” 

That was the one place you didn’t really want to be right now but you nod, shoulders slumped a little at the thought of facing your mum again.

“Or,” Sunghoon starts, “We could get some food? The University Cafe is always open late.” 

It was like he could read your mind, “Yeah, I could eat.” 

With that, Sunghoon starts the car and drives to the cafe. The way your face turned a little paler when he said he would take you home alarmed him. He doesn’t think you’re in danger there, Minhee might be a dick but he was protective over you, he wouldn’t let anything happen, and Sunghoon knew that. Whatever it is, you didn’t want to go home, and Sunghoon is more than willing to keep you to himself for a couple more hours.

The journey to the cafe, situated more on his side of town, unfolds in silence, only disrupted by the gentle strains of Hozier's "Like Real People Do" emanating from the radio. A wry smile tugs at Sunghoon's lips, finding the song's relevance a touch on the nose for the current situation.

Upon arriving at the cafe, you're taken aback by its shabby appearance - chipped walls, adjacent graffiti, not to mention it’s deserted. Sunghoon, attuned to your hesitance, reassures you, “It’s a lot nicer than it looks, promise. I’ve been coming here forever.” Stepping out of the car, he leaves you with the choice of venturing into the weathered establishment or remaining in the safety of the car. Despite your reservations, a rumble from your stomach nudges you to join him inside.

The interior mirrors the exterior's wear and tear, yet a certain comfort envelops the air as Sunghoon guides you with a reassuring hand on the small of your back. “Sit anywhere you like, Sweets.”

Opting for a seat by the back window, you settle into the firm, brown booth without ridding yourself of Sunghoon's coat, a silent acknowledgement that your stay may be short-lived. You aren’t a snob but you have a cafe like this in your side of town and it isn’t somewhere you choose to occupy. 

Noticing your scrutiny of the surroundings, Sunghoon, with a laugh, takes a seat across from you, studying your expression, "You don’t like it, huh?"

Huffing, you cast a critical eye around the place, "Not really, no."

You were brutally honest, he’ll give you that, “Wait until you try their food and then judge okay?” He chuckles and hands you the menu on the table.

A waitress waltzes over with a pen and paper. She’s too beautiful for a place like this, her rosy cheeks and long flowing brown hair make you jealous, “Sunghoon! My favourite ice slasher, how is it going?”

While they engage in small talk you look at the menu looking for something safe to eat. Maybe you should just wait for Sunghoon to order and get the same thing.

“Y/N, you know what you want?” He turns to you.

“Oh, so you’re the Y/N?” the waitress grins. 

What does that mean? How does she know your name? When you glance at Sunghoon, you notice his intense stare fixed on the girl. This is strange. The waitress seems to pick up on Sunghoon's unspoken communication, smirking as she says, "I mean, you're Kang Minhee's sister, right?" She then slowly turns her attention to you.

Ah, that's how she knew. He must have spoken ill of Minhee and you enough times for her to recognize you. Fueled by this assumption, you shift into defence mode. "Yeah, I am," you reply sharply, your expression hardening as you lean back, raising your eyebrows and waiting for her response, half-expecting her to be rude to you.

Strangely, the waitress's expression brightens. "It's nice to meet you, Y/N. Can I get you anything?" Her voice carries genuine warmth.

Now you feel a bit guilty. She seems genuinely nice.

"Uh," you glance at the menu again, uncertain of what to order. "What's good?"

Sunghoon intervenes with a smile. "She'll take my usual," he tells the waitress as she departs. Ordinarily, you dislike when men presume to order for you, but in this instance, you're grateful for the assistance. "It's just a plain cheese and ham panini with tomato, pesto, and hot sauce. It sounds simple, but it's delicious."

You expected Sunghoon to be a burger and fries kind of guy, but with his physique and strict regimen, you should have known his tastes would lean towards the healthier side of things.

“Did you order a drink with this ‘usual’ or am I supposed to just swallow it dry?” 

“Comes with diet coke and a lime.” He says timidly, now for the first time he is self-conscious about his food choice. Sunghoon would like nothing more than to chomp into a pizza and a full-fat Pepsi but with National’s coming up at the end of the year, he needs to stick somewhat to his meal plan. In hindsight, he should have ordered you something you might have liked. What did you like? He didn’t even know that simple fact, “Do you want something else? I can change it.”

“No it’s okay, I’ll trust your judgment,” You relax into the booth, “Shoot me if i’m being too straight forward but don’t you have enough money to go like, I don’t know, somewhere nicer than this?” 

Raising his hands in a gun motion he pretends to shoot you and you fake a wound in your shoulder. It’s nice to be playful like this, Sunghoon hasn’t had this for a long time, “You know how to ask a question, Sweets.” 

He then shrugs and looks around the cafe, not unlike how you were doing earlier but his eyes aren’t filled with distaste; they’re shining in fondness.

“It’s where my dad would take me after practices. Mum would never let me come here once I started aiming for professional level, too much grease and too many carbs.” He recalls a time his mum had him on a diet at 11 because he wasn’t flying high enough and a frown appeared on his face, “My dad though, he wanted me to be at least somewhat a normal kid so every Wednesday when mum worked late we would come here. Eat whatever we want and then pop a breath mint in the car.”

Sunghoon’s features are mixed with hurt and fondness, “Sorry, about your dad.” You offer your condolences.

When Sunghoon was 15 his dad died of a heart attack right before the Junior Championships and it broke him to the point he didn’t want to skate anymore, it wasn’t fun because his dad was always the one to cheer him on. His parents had their roles, his mum was strict and direct, getting him to train hard and achieve his best. And his dad was the reliever, encouraging him to have fun and let loose, be a kid. With one half of the balance scales gone, it was difficult for Sunghoon to maintain any adolescent normality. Perhaps that’s why he’s so fond to have you around.

In the silence you speak up, “You know your dad used to sneak me a packet of Haribos nearly every competition.” The boy's head whips to look at you and tilts, a knowing look on his face, “Yeah, and every time he would say ‘With everything so sour, we deserve something sweet’.” You smile at the thought.

“I-, he was kind like that.” He wants to say more, but he stops himself.

His dad was the nicest man in the whole world. When you found out the news that he passed away, you cried a little. Your mum being your mum she didn’t understand it, claimed you didn’t know him enough to mourn. Regardless of how well you knew him, people who were so kind and loving don’t deserve to be taken from this world so quickly.

You see the look on Sunghoon’s face lighten up a little, the shadow over his eyes washing away and when he looked at you, the sparkle came back, “So, you can’t hate this place or else I can pull the dead dad took me here card.”

“Fine. I love it.” The words feign mocking when in actuality they are full of understanding.

The waitress from earlier brings over the drinks in a frosted glass with a lime wedge on the rim, “There you go! Added extra ice for my Ice Prince.” 

My. She could have said ‘The’.

It stirred up something within your chest. Jealousy? Okay but why are you getting jealous over this? You don’t know because you aren’t exactly his and you have never been the threatened type, so you don’t know what’s going on with you. 

“Food will be right out!” She hops away and she is back in a flash with the Paninis. 

What you don’t expect is Sunghoon to take both of them and add some condiments, opening up the middle to pour a slight bit of salt and some mayonnaise. 

“Excuse me, I don't need your hands all over my food.” Crossing your arms you wait for him to stop but he doesn’t. Instead, he shows you his hands, stretching them over the table.

“Look how clean they are, Sweets.” They are clean and oh-so pretty. Suddenly you’re jealous of the food that receives his touch, wishing it was you. You need to get a grip, first the waitress, and now a piece of toasted bread are the objects of your envy.

It’s like your crush from when you were little came back tenfold, with every second you spend with him that little innocent pash is turning into full blown infatuation. Now with added hormones, it’s like you’re drawn to him more than ever. It’s scary how quickly you fell back into your feelings, whatever they were.

“Y/N?” He brings you back to reality with his low voice, retreating his hand, “Lost you for a minute there.”

Passing you the food you thank him, “Sorry, happens a lot. I tend to overthink literally everything.” It’s a confession you haven’t let pass your lips. Not ever. “I learned to control it as I got older but if I’m upset I can’t stop it 99% of the time, even if it’s something simple like putting salt on this food.”

Sunghoon sees you physically overthinking what you just said. It’s the exact same face you made when you were inches from kissing him. 

He understands the situation earlier a little better now.

“So what’s upsetting you now, Sweets?” He asks, “You said you didn’t feel good enough, what happened?” 

Shuddering, you remember your words. You’re embarrassed that you blurted out your feelings so readily, “It’s nothing.” Then you remember, “Why did you think it was my mum?”

“If your mum is anything like mine, and I guarantee she is, then I don’t ‘think’ it was your mum, I know it.” There’s an empathy shining in his eyes, “What did she do?” 

“I got some good news, and when I told her about it,” Sighing, you try to aggregate your feelings. Sunghoon’s hand makes contact with your forearm as he sees you struggle. The soothing motion of his thumb calms you instantly, “she just dismissed it. Like my achievement wasn’t up to par with Mini’s.”

“What was the good news?”

“Nothing major I guess. I’m the top student at my University for the year and I’m receiving an award.”

Sunghoon is furious. Your mum had downplayed your achievement and now you don’t think it’s a big deal and he wasn’t having it, “Y/N. You go to Yonsei, right?” Once you nod he continues, “Then that IS major, what are you talking about?” 

“It’s not exactly a Championship medal.” Your shoulders slump.

“And?” Squeezing your arm he tries to make you see past your mother and her shitty attitude, “Some people would think your achievement means more than one of his, does that make Minhee’s less than yours?” You mumble a quick ‘of course not’, not grasping what he’s saying, “Then why do you think that way about your award? Sweets, it’s fucking amazing you should be proud of yourself.”

You are, it’s your mum who isn’t and that’s what you can’t get over. 

Instead of answering back you avoid the conversation altogether and start eating the food in front of you. 

One bite has you falling in love with the taste, the pesto combination with the cheese and parma ham melts in your mouth and makes your tongue dance. You owe this shabby place an apology.

Triumph etches onto Sunghoon’s face as he sees the same fireworks behind your eyes that he had when he first tried the food. He knew you’d like it.

“Oh, my days.” You stare at him wide-eyed, one hand covering your mouth. Never will you doubt him again.

“Told you.” He smirks and eats some of his own, the familiar aroma and your face make his chest fill with glee and gratification, “I’ve just learned two things about you in this last minute.”

“And what’s that?” You question, taking another bite.

“You love the food here and will never question my taste again,” Your eyes are still on the food but you nod to agree, “And you’re an avoider.”

What is that supposed to mean? 

“An avoider?” 

Sunghoon leans back and picks up a tissue, cleaning the crumbs from his fingers, “You changed the topic pretty fast when you didn’t want to have a conversation you’re uncomfortable with. You can’t accept what I’m saying is right, your achievement is just as mighty as all of Minhee’s and it IS a big deal.” 

Arguing with him about it is pointless. Does it mean you won’t though? No.

“It’s not that I'm not accepting what you’re saying,” it is, he thinks to himself,  “I just don’t need to air my drama or feelings to someone I don’t know.” 

“Believe it or not, asking questions and having conversations like this is how you get to know people,” Sunghoon pushed the food to the side and leaned forward, “I just want to get to know you.” 

You challenge him by matching his posture and leaning on the table, “Whatever happened to, oh I don’t know, what’s your favourite colour?”

“White. See, easy right?” He’s smug. Sunghoon isn’t trying to pressure you to answer the question, he just thinks if you speak about the issue, it’ll alleviate the burden. A problem shared is a problem halved after all. “How about you ask me anything at all, and I’ll answer it because I know that’s how you get to know me.”

“Anything at all?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why didn’t you kiss me earlier?”

Stunned. Shocked. Astounded. Whatever other synonym he could use, that’s exactly how he feels right now. For the first time in his life, he is speechless. How do you keep doing this to him? Never has anyone been so forthright with him.

Seeing his cheeks flush red and eyes dart around as if finding the answer in his brain you know you’ve won, “Not so eager to speak now, huh?” 

Exhaling, Sunghoon sits back, “You looked like you were going to pass out,” He begins his answer, “You got in your head about something and it made you second guess.”

“I was thinking about Minhee.”

Sunghoon’s face shrivels, “Sweets, I know we’re compared a lot but I didn’t think he’d be my competition with you too?” Sunghoon’s voice is playful but he is worried about the next words out your lips.

Stretching over the table you slap his chest, “Ew, no that’s disgusting! Don’t even think like that!” You’re appalled at even the inclination, “It’s just that, you’re Park Sunghoon, you said it yourself he’s your competition,” He goes to say something and you stop him, “in SKATING. You’re so disgusting.” Laughter fills your booth, food and drinks forgotten, “If I ever kissed you he would freak the fuck out.”

The boy across from you knows exactly what you’re talking about, more than know, “If Minhee wasn’t a factor, would you have kissed me back?”

“Yes.”

Responding before your brain has a chance to filter the words is also a downside to your overthinking mind. So many thoughts in one brain make it easier for slips like this to happen, but you aren’t too concerned about this one, he probably already knew you would have kissed him back there if you weren’t preoccupied with contemplation.

Just as you think you’ll get to speak about what transpired earlier, the waitress comes over to take your plates away, “All done?”

Sunghoon nods and goes to pull out his wallet to pay but as he pats himself down to find it, he remembers it’s in his coat - the coat you’re still wearing “Uh, Sweets?” He points to his coat trying to tell you it’s in there.

Smirking you search the inner pockets to find a Prada wallet. You could have some fun with this.

“That’s okay, Hoonie, I’ve got it.” You pull out a few £20 notes and hand them to the waitress, “It’s my treat tonight, didn’t I tell you that? Only the best for my hard-working man.” Making kissy faces at him, his face goes red and his lips go in a thin line. 

It wasn’t the fact you just paid £80 for a £12 meal with his money, although that will be addressed later on, it was the nickname and calling him your man that has him trying to control himself. The sweet albeit lightheartedly jeering way of your words made his heart tight in the best possible way. If there was a button board on Sunghoon’s chest, filled with all his emotions like annoyance, lust, happiness, solace, and aggravation, you had pushed every one of them tonight.  

Laughing you put the wallet back into his coat. He looks so cute when he goes red like that, it almost makes you want to treat him like an actual princess or stuff him in your pocket. Either way, you wanted to look after him in some form or other.

“Are you quite done now?” Sunghoon gains back his composure as he watches you chuckling away to yourself.

Suddenly, nothing was funny anymore when your phone goes off, flashing your brother's name on the screen. 

You have to go home and Sunghoon knows it too, “Y/N, I would keep you out all night if I could, but Minhee might send out a missing police report if I do.” 

Now that you’ve somewhat spoken the issue out loud, you think you’re being a bit over the top about it all but your body still has the overbearing weight placed on your shoulders. Facing your mum right now was the last thing you wanted but you know you can’t avoid her forever. 

“I’ll text him. He thinks I’m at Rina’s place telling her and Allen the news.” Quickly standing up you type a generic reply back, telling him you’ll be home soon.

Sunghoon keeps two steps behind you while you walk out of the cafe, his arm hovering by your side to guide you as you text and walk at the same time, he waves goodbye to the waitress and she wafts the cash in her face, fanning herself with his hard-earned money. All he can do is laugh and show his disbelief at her flaunting through his expression. 

“There. Sent.” You put the phone into Sunghoon’s coat pocket. You’re almost at his car when you hear him speak up.

“Hey, Sweets?”

“Hmm?”

Sunghoon grabs your left arm, twirls you around, and presses his lips against yours.

The action knocks the air from your lungs and your eyes widen. Park Sunghoon was kissing you. His palms cup each of your cheeks, his lips moving against yours as he backs you up until your back hits the side of his car. This is what you wanted back at the rink, to have the feeling of his mouth moulding to yours, except it was better than expected, it felt like heaven.

He can't seem to get enough of you as he fervently kisses your mouth, his tongue sliding along your lips, eliciting a soft moan from you that's music to his ears. It was a daring move to kiss you so suddenly, and in an ideal world, he would have asked for permission first. But he knows that might have sparked another bout of overthinking from you, and he couldn't risk losing this second chance to kiss you tonight.

Sliding his hands into your hair, he gently pulls your head back, granting him better access to your open mouth, deepening the kiss. Lost in the sensation of your lips, he doesn't even notice the subtle movement of your fingers dancing along his waist until they settle between his lower back and the top of his ass.

At this moment, nothing could stop you from kissing or touching him.

Except, perhaps, one person.

Your phone vibrates, indicating an incoming call, but you're too entranced by Sunghoon's lips and tongue to notice. Pressing his body against yours, he traps you between him and the car, the sensation of his hips against yours causing you to instinctively grind against him, using your hands to pull him closer.

However, in the intimate closeness, he can feel your phone vibrating against your body. As much as he wants to ignore it, he knows you can't. "Sweets, your phone," he murmurs between kisses, his hands dropping from your hair to reach into your pocket, even as your lips continue to chase after his. "It's Minhee; you better take it."

No way has he cock blocked you twice in one night.

Grumbling, you take the phone from Sunghoon and answer, “Hi Minhee…No, I wasn’t ignoring you, I was putting on my shoes…no no, you don’t need to pi-”

You pause mid-sentence when Sunghoon starts kissing your neck and squeezing your waist. What does he think he's doing? Glancing down, you catch his eyes sneakily looking up at you. Attempting to push him away only results in him biting down, his fangs teasing the verge of breaking skin. In any other situation, you might have found it hot, but with Minhee yapping in your ear, you don't have time to appreciate it.

“Look, I’m on my way home…I’ll walk, it's not that far…seriously, Minhee- Oh,” you moan involuntarily when Sunghoon kisses your sweet spot, and once he's found it, he doesn’t stop licking and nibbling, “Hoonie, stop it!” You remove the phone from your ear and whisper-shout at him.

“I love it when you call me that,” he smirks, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

Hearing Minhee’s voice come through the phone again, you lift it back up to your ear, “What? Oh, I stubbed my toe, look I’ll be home soon alright…Yes, Allen is here…you know he and Rina are together. I’m going to go, see you soon.” Hanging up, you sigh in exasperation.

Giving Sunghoon a few light whacks, you demand, “Why did you do that?” You're almost certain Minhee heard him, or at least now he might think you're hooking up with Allen.

Bringing his face back up to yours, Sunghoon just shrugs and kisses you again with as much fervour as before. His lips are addicting, and you don’t want to stop, but Rina lives 20 minutes from your house if you walk, and this cafe is at least a 30-minute drive. “Sunghoon, I need to go back,” you say between his insistent kisses.

“How long do I have?” He needs to know how long he can indulge in this before having to let you go.

“Not even a second. I’ll already be late even if we leave now.” When his forehead falls on yours you see the pain on his face, like you’re depriving him of a basic human need.

"Don't say that, tell your friend to phone and say you're staying with her tonight." Sunghoon can't stop his lips from capturing yours again. It's as if he's had a taste of you and doesn't want to give it up, especially now. His hand teases the waist of your trousers, tempting to dip in and touch you where you desperately need him.

Personally, you would love nothing more than to call Rina up and get her to lie, she would do it in a heartbeat but Minhee would never believe it, “I can’t. I never stay over when he has practice in the morning. Mum never wants to make a stop off to pick me up.”

“You’re killing me here.” He states breathlessly, his fingertips dancing down to your pussy as he ghosts your neck with his breath. He’s waiting on you to give him the green light but you are far too concerned about getting home.

He suddenly hates your mum a little more than before. If it wasn’t her dismissing your accomplishments, it was her inability to put you on her priority list, “Can’t you just skip his practice? He’ll have more, trust me he needs it.”

“Don’t ruin this.” You warn him from speaking any more about your brother. It does bring you back to reality just who you were kissing, but you can’t focus on that right now, your only concern is getting home.

Sunghoon apologises by kissing you again, this time more gently, like it came naturally to him, “I need to go home. No excuses.”

It isn't what he wants to hear, but he has to accept it. Stepping away from you, his gaze remains fixed on your lips, which are lush and swollen; he can only picture what they would look like if he had more time to toss you in the back seat. His mind immediately returns to you with the lever, and to be honest, he could throw a tantrum right now over the situation at hand. It was unjust that he couldn't just have you, and he wasn't sure if he'd ever get the chance again.

Moving to his side of the car he slides in and you follow suit. He uses the excuse of buckling your seatbelt for you to give you another kiss and it has you internally giggling and kicking your feet.

You do the same to him, grabbing the seatbelt from him and clipping him in, leaning over to press your lips against his soft ones. 

“All I need is 5 minutes,” He whispers against your lips and you laugh, swatting his chest. 

You can’t say you don’t ponder it, and when you see his hard on poking so slightly against his trousers, you look at the time and really wonder if you could, but you can’t risk Minhee even getting a whiff of this, “Next time.” 

Sunghoon's eyes change from desire to hope in real time, "There'll be a next time?" His cool and confident demeanour fades and is replaced with puppy-like grin as he realises you want more than what you had tonight.

“If you get me home in the next 25 minutes there can be.” You pose and with that, Sunghoon drives out of the car park and down the highway going 10 above the limit.

Reaching closer to your house you put a hand on his thigh as you speak, “Better to drop me off here, so Mini doesn’t see you.” You also have to fake that you walked home from Rina’s so if a big fancy car starts pulling up outside your house, he’s going to know something is up.

Sunghoon takes your hand on his thigh and brings it to his lips, maintaining eye contact with the road as he stops at the curb of your neighbour's house 2 doors down. His grip tightens on your hand as he looks at the time, “Got you here in 27 minutes, Sweets.” Proud of himself he adorns a smile that splits his face in half.

Tutting you pout at him, “I guess there can’t be a next time, so sorry Hoonie.” His stunned face was worth holding in your laugh to act like you’re serious, “If only you had gotten here 2 minutes quicker.”

“Come on,” He exasperated, “There were like 10 red lights in a row.” His thumb points back to where you just drove from.

It’s true, it was bad luck, but you liked playing with him like this. 

“Sorry, see you at the rink yeah?” You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to get out your side of the car, but Sunghoon isn’t letting it end here.

He stretches over to shut the door back over making you gasp, startled by the sudden move, “You don’t want to be a thief do you?” You think he’s going to hit out with something cheesy like how you stole his heart of something, but when his hand grips the coat you’re wearing you understand what he means, “Bad enough you gave my money away but now you’re trying to steal a £500 coat?” 

Perplexed by both the price and the unexpected accusation, your mouth hangs open. No wonder the coat is so cosy and warm—it costs most of your month's paycheck. Exiting the car, you impishly mutter a 'fine' as you remove the jacket, placing it on the passenger seat before walking away, feeling considerably colder than before.

Just as you reach the vicinity of your house, Sunghoon calls out, "Sweets?" You spin around to see him jogging up behind you, holding your phone. Ah, you put it in his coat pocket after Minhee's call. Taking it from his grip, you thank him, only to be surprised again when he says, "You also forgot this." What else did you even have on your person to forget?

Sunghoon's mouth quickly meets yours for the nth time tonight. A kiss. You forgot to kiss him.

Sighing, you realize you have to put an end to it. Lingering out in the open so close to your home practically guarantees Minhee will see. "Hoonie."

"Shh," he hushes you, continuing the kiss, "I know, but let me have it since there won't be a next time." A fake sad look takes over his face, his hands running up and down your sides.

"Ugh fine, since you gave me my phone I suppose I could spare you some time."  Crossing your arms, you act irritated, while his 'sadness' transforms into a self-satisfied smile. That was the dynamic between you both, always giving what you got, and you wanted to explore it more, no matter how difficult it was.

“See you at the rink then, Sweets.” Messing up your hair he skips back to his car like a kid on Christmas. He was the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. 

Spending these past few hours with Sunghoon was like nothing you had ever experienced before. He knew how to wash all of your worries and woes away better than some people you’ve known for years. And when he kissed you it sent shooting stars through your body. If only 8-year-old you could see what had just happened, she would burst with excitement.

With a smile on your face, you rapidly run into your house and up the stairs, trying to be quiet but also too lost in the dizziness from Sunghoon’s kisses. As you reach the top of the stairs, Minhee opens his door and gives you a quizzical look. Oh no, he didn’t see, did he?

“Why do you look like you won the lottery?” Phew, he hadn’t.

“Just, excited about getting the award, that’s all.” It wasn’t totally a lie, he would see right through you if you started to babble out any other excuse so you had to stick to something believable. You are happy about the award, there isn’t a doubt about it, but Sunghoon reassuring you throughout the night made you stop and acknowledge how happy you really were to receive it. Your mum was the one that ruined it for you.

Minhee follows you when you walk into your room, “Y/N? You know I would be there if I could right?” Facing him, you see how sorry he looks about the situation, “I tried to phone the company to move the filming but they can’t.” Of course, he would try to move it for you, that was the kind of brother he was. 

A surge of guilt overcomes your body. Here he was trying to move his schedule around, a big important schedule might you add, and you were out there kissing the one boy you shouldn’t be. If Sunghoon wasn’t such a threat to Minhee, you think they could go back to being somewhat friends, but that’s never going to happen.

“It’s okay, Mini. I know you can’t just cancel it.” Your voice is reassuring but his features still hold hurt.

“It’s not okay, Y/N. You’re the most important thing to me in this world, I want to be there for your big moments like you’ve been there for mine.” You could cry. Minhee wasn’t the type to show his emotions so being on the receiving end of such words makes you tear up a little, “Hey, Bubs, don’t cry.”

He hasn’t called you Bubs in so long, the childhood nickname growing out as you both got older. There was a bond between you and your brother, other siblings used to say how envious they were.

“I don’t want to speak ill of our mum but she was a bitch tonight. I should have said something.”

Shaking your head, you wipe your tears and look down before speaking, “Mini, it wouldn’t have helped.” Your voice cracks and your throat closes a little, “She’s always like that anyway.”

“It doesn’t make it right.” He says disapprovingly. 

Minhee pulls you into a tight hug and you instantly relax. Your brain starts to overthink everything again. The lack of proudness from your mother, the kisses from Sunghoon, and the brotherly affection you’re currently receiving. Could you have it all? Getting to know Sunghoon tonight, you don’t think you can leave it where you did. There was something there between you both, you fit together like skates to ice.

“I am so proud of you, Bubs.” Minhee strokes the back of your head, “and I might not be able to go to your ceremony, but when I beat that prick and come first at Nationals? I’m dedicating that to you. I promise you that.”

That prick…Park Sunghoon.

You couldn’t have it all.

taglist: @heelee-01 @zerasari @beomgyusonlywife @iwaplant @monstanctiny21 @chiiiiiiiiis @minniejenseo @run2gyuz @jngwnlvs @haelahoops @capri-cuntz @nctislifue @jaehoonii @weyukinluv @skzenhalove @enhypenlovre @cherriruto @ariadores @chwesuh-imnida

[averyfawkes]

I wake up feeling wonderful and energized. I look and realize that I just slept in my underwear. I was so exhausted yesterday that I thought I would have a fever the next day. But this morning, I feel renewed and full of energy. I notice my morning wood poking out of my underwear. I was about to reach down and start jerking off when I heard this voice in my head.

I want to fuck someone. I'm so fucking horny. I hope I can find a tight ass to fuck soon. I'm so horny that I can fuck my pillow and shoot my load in it.

I realize how horny I am right now and simply jerking it off won't relieve it. I turn to my stomach and start rubbing my cock against my bed, humping the air as if I'm fucking someone. I got so lost in lust that I didn't notice that I'm actually leaking pre-cum right now. What is wrong with me? I need to pull myself together.

As much as I want to stand up and start my day, I find myself stuck in my bed, humping like there's no tomorrow, and almost on the verge of orgasm. I feel my body stiffening before I moan while my cock shoots out into my mattress. I heave on my bed, trying to regain some sense of control in this situation. As I feel myself getting down from my orgasmic high, I slowly rise from my bed and see the mess I made. I reluctantly pulled away my bed cover since I just replaced it 2 days ago. I walk towards my washer and toss everything inside, along with my stained underwear. I decide to get a cup of coffee first before I shower, just to clear out my mind.

I brew a pot of coffee and put 2 pieces of bread inside the toaster. I should cook breakfast but I'm still feeling squeamish from what happened in my bed. I just let out a deep sigh and realized that I haven't cummed like that for quite a long time now. It's like my whole body is on fire and all I can think about is cumming my brains out. I guess being a doctor made me spend less time on dating that I haven't had any good fuck for a long time. I miss that, and I think I should get back into dating again.

Yeah, you should find huge, muscular men and have them fuck your ass until you can't walk.

Shit, how awesome it would be to install Grindr and find myself a nice hot stud that can fuck me until I can't walk. But I have lots of appointments for the day. I can't just skip all of that for a simple booty call. My patients need me and I want to be there for them when they do.

But I want to get fucked. I want to have a big, juicy dick pumping in and out of my asshole, or a tight, perky butt to pound into. Whatever is easiest to get right now.

But I can't concentrate on my work if I don't deal with this right now. I should call in sick for the day and spend the whole day browsing through all the gay dating apps that I know. Yeah, I think I will do just that. I open my phone and begin downloading a ton of gay dating apps, signing up for accounts, and setting up profiles. I feel so giddy and excited like a teenager but you can't blame me, I haven't tried this before. I'm used to taking the girl I like into romantic dates before waiting for the right time to ask them if they want to have sex with me. Wait, I'm gay right? I don't like women. Why did I date women back then?

Focus on setting up your account, time is running out and you need to get laid, fast.

I shrug my thoughts about women aside as I continue setting up my profiles in different apps. As soon as I finished it, I started to swipe right on anyone that tickles my fancy. They need to be taller than me, older than me, and have a more muscular body than me. Fucking them or getting fucked by them seems hot to me so I don't mind. Just 5 minutes from creating my accounts, I already got a match from a big bear of a man that is so my type. His profile says he's a bottom and a little submissive. He wants me to send him a picture before he agrees to go here in my house. I grin as I get up and walk into my bathroom to snap a decent pic. As I stare at my reflection, I think that I'm hot enough for this guy.

You need to get shirtless. And remember that leather harness you bought for a costume 2 years ago, wear that before you take a picture for this man.

I remember the leather harness that I brought 2 years ago when I was wearing a cop costume. I run up to my storage room and frantically look for that leather harness. As soon as I grab it, I run back to the bathroom, tear off my shirt, and snap a picture before sending it to my match.

He immediately replied and confirmed that he'll be here in 5 mins. I giggle since I never did this before. Letting a complete stranger into my house just for sex is not my usual thing to do but I'm horny and I need someone right now. I waited for five minutes and perked up when I heard the doorbell ring. Before I walk up to my door, I figured that I should put back my shirt since I'm meeting this stranger.

You look so hot right now. Greet him and put him in his place. He's a submissive motherfucker and you will fuck his brains out. You need to turn him on first and wear this leather harness with shirtless.

Nah, I look hot right now. I'll greet him like this and see his reaction. I run up to the door and slowly open it. I see a man staring hungrily at me. I immediately recognized him as my match in the app so I stood aside and let him in. He walks into my house without breaking our eye contact. I close the door behind and lead him into my living room.

"So, how do you want to do this?" I ask him, trying to get the feel of this man.

"How? I want you to spread me wide and eat my ass first before fucking me. Don't worry about condoms, I cleaned out my hole for this. I still won't mind if you want to use one. And since you said that you're discreet, I don't want you greeting me when we meet outside, okay? I have a family and a job to protect. If you can't do that, I'm walking away." The man explains to me as he pulls his shirt away.

Oh no, this man has a family. I don't want to be involved with a family man. I'm no whore. I can do better than this. I should just decline his offer and send him away. This is just a bad idea.

Say yes. You just have to fuck him and you can be on your usual day. No strings attached. That's what he also wants. He wants your cock and you better give it to him good.

"Sure. Is that all?" I find myself saying as I feel myself smirking at the man.

The man then grins back at me as he gets naked and kneels on my sofa, lifting his ass in the air and showing me his asshole. I understand what he wants to say as I pull down my pants and free my rock-hard cock. I was surprised to see my cock already leaking pre-cum but I'm too horny to care. I aggressively slap his bubble butt before I grip his waist and thrust my dick straight into his inviting hole. I moan as soon as my cock penetrated his flesh, starting by slowly thrusting in and out of him.

I let myself feel the rhythm of the man's body before slowly increasing the pace of my thrusts. I feel myself getting lost in pleasure as I hear the man moaning and begging for more. I feel like I'm up for the challenge so I start pounding his ass like there's no tomorrow. The man starts wailing as his legs begin wobbling. I reach out to grab both his arms and begin mercilessly tearing his hole.

But then, I felt something click inside me. Something that I never before. I let out a gutteral moan as I feel my cock explode inside the man's ass. For some reason, I feel the cum shooting out of my cock more thicker and much more viscous than my usual cum. I grab the man's arms tighter and pull him closer to me. I could hear the man begging me to stop for a while but I ignored him. I just keep on pumping my load inside his ass for quite some time. In the middle of my endless orgasm, I feel the man under me begin squirming and twitching out of control. I realized that I've been cumming for a long time now and should have stopped minutes ago. There's clearly something wrong with what's happening and I should check if the man is still okay.

Just hold him tight and keep on pumping him full of my slime. We need to turn him into a puppet just like you. Just keep him in place while I assimilate his mind and body. You love cumming, don't you?

Fuck yeah, I love cumming! Cumming is the best. I will cum my brains out into this horny slut and pump him full of my seed. He won't be walking for days after this. I just have to keep on pumping and pumping cum until you're done turning him into a puppet like me. Wait, I'm a puppet? When did I become a puppet? And who am I talking to? What the hell is happening? I instinctively jumped away from the man as I suddenly pulled out my cock from his ass.

To my surprise, there is a gel-like string connecting my urethra to the man's asshole. My sudden disconnection to the man caused him to become aware of what was happening. He looked behind him and started at the sight of the slime connecting my cock to his butt. I tried to run away but suddenly felt my body instantly getting tired. I fall on the floor as my consciousness fades to black.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Nick almost caused me to lose this beautiful, hunky bear. I can't believe that someone with a huge cock wants to bottom. But that doesn't matter anymore since I'm in control now. I stare at my reflection in the mirror and admire my new puppet. I snapped a picture using Nick's phone and sent it to my email address.

I close my eyes and try to access this man's memories again. I tried earlier but I got rejected. Now that he's all clean and calm, I think I can do it. As soon as I open my eyes, his memories begin flowing in my mind like a calm river. I look into the mirror again and smirk.

"You will be a great addition to my collection, Dylan. I assure you that I'll use your body for all it's worth."

[yngtort]

—Playboy aesthetic

chan | lino | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin

NSFW ★

──────────

XFem!reader : in which you just can’t stay out of that damn playboys bed. Mdni - emotional manipulation - drunk sex - breading

song rec : playboy - exo

“There’s no need to tell me, let’s just leave it as is. Why are you worried?” One of exos greatest hits, play boy, played through the party. crowds of people swaying together to the beat of the song, hips bumping and hands exploring.

You watch from the sidelines, held back by vines like the flower you’re pretending to be. usually, you’d be dancing along with everyone else. but today, you don’t have the energy. Just wanna stay back and observe with a half empty, half full red cup in your hands.

It's fun watching people tumble over each other. Just to get back up and start busting an off beat move again. You snicker in your spot before bringing the cup to your lips.

Said cup blocks your vision for a second as you down the nectar it holds. When it comes down, your eyes widen as a familiar smile greets you.

“Having fun, are we?” his voice initiates the biggest eyeroll you can muster.

Clad in all black and leather stood the most sleazy man you have ever encountered at these parties. a man with pillow skills that could qualify him as a professional gigolo. He’s also the man you tend to wake up next to in the morning. “What do you want, christopher?”

One of his brows shoots up at the attitude. But it quickly falls as his lips stretch into a grin and his arms open defensively.

“cmon, baby. Don’t be like that.” He says, taking a step forward. His hands finds its usual place at your hips, thumbs playing with the loops of your low rise pants. “you know you love my company.”

You scoff, “as if.” Fully annoyed that he’s standing here with his national anthem playing in the background. He’s a fucking playboy, one that takes pride in it too.

you knew this when you started messing around with him. You told yourself that this was all just for shits, giggles, and some good head. But no— you’re so naive, believing every I love you he muttered from above. now you’re wrapped around his finger. Stupidly in love with this dumb, lying, conniving, asshole-

“go and play around with someone else. I’m not in the mood for this.” you say, pushing at his chest but he doesn’t budge.

“I don’t want to play with anyone else,” Chris told, taking your hand that’s wedged between you and placing a kiss against your palm, “I told you that when you tried to break things off last time. I want you only.”

Lies. His words makes your heart flutter, but you know it’s all lies. “But I don’t want you, Chris.” You pull your hand back.

“And yet you’re at one of my parties?” Chris tuts his head to the side cockily and you roll your eyes again.

“Jisung wanted me to come, so I came.”

“since when did you cum on command?”his lips curled, “Learned some new tricks while i away, huh?”

you slapped his shoulder, “fuck you.”

“that’s what I’m trying to get you to do, but you’re being so stubborn.” He said before leaning in close, nose brushing against yours.

“C’mon babygirl, I miss you.” You turn your head away from him not saying a word and Chris chuckled.

he places a kiss on your cheek, “y’know if you continue to reject me like this, it’ll only make me want you more.”

“Sounds like a personal problem then.” You respond, still not meeting his gaze which is starting to piss Chris off more than he thought it would.

“I don’t understand what I’ve done wrong,”

A small sigh leaves your lips before you face him again, “you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then what’s the issue?” “I’m bored.”

“Bored?” Chris mimicked with a scoff, “screaming my name into your pillow is boring?”

“That’s not-“ he cuts you off by pulling you close, empty cup dropping out your hand and rolling out into the crowd.

“It’s not what?” he bites, eyes burning into yours. “Don’t act like you didn’t love every second. Like you don’t want this as much as I do.”

“Chris. I told you, im done with all this.” you said, turning your head again.

“and I told you,” Chris immediately grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. “it’s not over until I say so.”

Before you can even respond his lips are on yours, tongue swiftly breaking past your teeth without any problem. you squeak at the sudden invasion, hands balled into fist as they beat at his chest in protest.

Chris eats up each weak punch, until your hands finally give up and clutch onto his jacket, pulling him closer because— fuck he’s such a good kisser.

making out against the wall, your biggest weakness. Pressed up together, one of his thighs between your legs while a free hand is on your neck— the other one kneading your waist.

your mind is absolutely screaming at you to push him away. You’re supposed to be standing on business. He can’t keep toying with you like this, fucking you like he loves you just to end up in the bed of another woman the next day.

“Don’t allow him to play you, y/n. Stand up girl!” Your friends would preach to you over and over.

But right now, their voices are silenced— muffled out by the damning desire and need that coats your body as Chris picks you up. Lips still locked on yours, he walked you away from the party, and deeper into the hallways of the frat.

You know exactly where you’re going, a swift left turn and a straight walk to his room. You’ve been taken here a lot, in this position too. Fingers laced in his curly locks as he opens up the door and walks you to his bed.

When he places you down, chris breaks the kiss. “Are you done being a brat yet? or do you need more convincing?” He asks, voice at the lowest octave you’ve ever heard from him.

“Just shut up ‘n fuck me already,” your demand is everything Chris expected. such dirty words leaving a pretty mouth like yours was enough to get his length straining against his pants.

“Your wish is my command, princess.” He says before ridding himself of his clothes. you of course do the same. Shirt comes off with ease but there’s a bit of a struggle with those tight jeans you decided to stuff yourself into.

Chris helps, “lift.” He says and your hips are off the mattress. He pulls them off with a few tugs, your underwear sliding down as bonus.

“Fuck, I missed you so much,” the older sucks in a breath, seemingly in awe as he spreads your legs. Your cunt glistened, visibly dripping by how turned on you are. “All this for me?”

“t-that’s just because it’s been a while,” you defended, hands going down to cover it shyly.

“Hasn’t it?” he chuckled before placing his palm on top of yours. Chris guides your fingers to your hole, instructing them inside. “you haven’t even played with it like this?”

You look away embarrassed as you pump yourself in front of him, “no, I couldn’t—“

“reach where I could?” Chris teased, smile wide with pride because he knows how helpless you are without him. those nights after you cut him off were absolute hell. you crying in the darkness of your room after failed attempts at fucking yourself— the way he did.

You needed him so bad.

Chris watches in amusement as your fingers speed up, loud squelching sounds below fill both of your ears. “Chris, p-please.” You beg, eyes pooling with frustrated tears.

“you’re doing perfectly on your own though,”

“not enough,” you cried . “I want you, please, please..”

Chris hummed, listening to your pleas. Before trialing soft kisses down your body until he comes face to your fingers that were still stuffed into your hole. He pulls them out, taking them into his mouth after. your taste coats the buds on his tongue, making him grunt.

With the sample not being enough, he opts for eating you out. he’s so skilled, tongue circling your clit with precision. Your body becomes one with the bed below you as you sink into nothing but undeniable misery and pleasure.

“Like that, yes, fuck” moans tumbled off your lips as your hands sought comfort at your breast, holding and kneading them for that extra stimulation.

Chris wishes you could see how slutty you looked from his angle below. Using his tongue to whore yourself out on his face— right after you were just going on about how bored you were of him? tch, yeah sure.

He pulls back causing you to whine, “shh, babe, you can’t cum so soon. we’re just getting started.”

you watch in a daze as he pulls off his boxers, exposing his hard and big member to your hungry eyes. your involuntarily clench, cunt so needy and ready to be filled up by every inch.

Chris is just as desperate, eagerly placing your legs over his shoulder as he lines up his throbbing dick at your pucker. “you missed me too, didn’t you?” He asked as he pushed in, your walls welcoming him with a tight hug.

“s’much…missed havin you here.” You say, hand pressing against the bulge in your tummy. Chris twitches harshly inside you and could feel it.

just from your words, he could’ve came right then and there.

“I’m gonna fuck you all night,” is the last thing he said before absolutely destroying you. His hips snapped wildly into yours, head board banging against the wall with every thrust. There’s sure to be some cracks in the paint, but that’s tomorrows problem.

Right now, all he’s focused on is the way your breast bounced on impact while you babble out pleas for more.

Chris lets one of your legs fall off his shoulder and leans down to your ear, “now tell me, we’re you really bored of me? Or is there something else you have to say?”

“n-no, wasn’t bored just got too— fuck—“

“Attached? Baby, can’t you see I’m the same way? no one will ever do it for me like you do. You’re mine, yea?” He said, thrust only getting stronger as you fall weak at every word.

he felt the same way you did? is that even possible? You don’t have time to doubt it because he’s ruthlessly pounding into you. “Chris’s, ‘m chris’s” is all you can say.

“that’s right, pretty. All mine.” He whispered delicately, movements becoming more erratic as his dick throbs inside of you, eager to fill you up. “wanna knock you up s’bad.”

Chris pushes himself deeper than before, making sure if he’s gonna come, it’s gonna stick and stay. “you’ll let me do it? Wont you, baby?”

“Please,” and that’s all he needed to hear.

Chris’s cum is thick and there’s a lot of it too. Maybe from going so long without having you underneath had finally caught up to him— he doesn’t know. but the way his body tenses, muscles flexing as he slowly empties his heavy load into you, shows you how much he wanted you.

He pulls you into one more final kiss, lips sloppily slotting with yours as he pins your hips to the mattress. body heavy on top of yours, dick softening inside you as the last traces of pleasure leave him.

“I love you, y/n” he mumbled against your lips, “I’ve always have.”

You believe him for the night because you know in the morning, you'll wake up alone and there will be sticky note that read : “quiet on the way out” left on the nightstand like always.

“that fucking, playboy..”

:)

Tinaytag (comment to be added) : @sydnerss @sunnyyangie @panjakes @foxinnie8 @inniescandy-01 @luvyev

[deandoesthingstome]

a waiting place

A/N: In honor of @sillyrabbit81 and her milestone event. Congrats friend! I don't know if this is cheating but I took two screenshots, sent one and kept one for myself. I thought it would take me days, but I sat down and this feeling just poured from me.

Her event masterlist is here.

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader (my first time with writing him, please be gentle)

Prompt: Slow & Romantic // Geralt // Mirror Sex

Summary: You have finally found a place of your own

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: there is sex in this story so NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI

It was rumored to have been made with magic, but when you finally stumbled across the mirror tucked deep in the recesses of the farmhouse abandoned in Ebbing after the start of the Northern War, it was draped in a dusty cloth and looked anything but.

Still, the vibrations were calling, remnants of your ancestors, whose mastery of craft had placed the various pieces of skillfully forged metal and intricately carved wood together around the silver-backed glass. When you touched it, a warmth spread from your fingertips to your toes, and you knew you were home.

Exactly what kind of home had yet to be determined, since your skills were still newfound and you’d yet to master any sort of transformative spells. Backbreaking hard work was all you were able to put into it, but the efforts were worth it once you were able to lay down in a bed of your own making, the mirror standing in a newly prominent place of honor against the wall across the room.

In the morning, you readied a hot bath, filled with nourishing herbs and healing tinctures, and placed a tray of fresh bread flanked by cured meats and cheeses on the small table beside the wooden tub along with a bowl of warm stew and pitcher of ale. 

And exactly three years after your initial meeting, you called out to him, desire coursing through your veins and energy pulsing in your reflection, clearly bound with the mastery of your ancients.

“I am here. I made it. I need you.” You repeated the words in thoughts through the spells you chanted so that when he arrived, he would know why. Pulling someone through space and time was never easy, on them or you. But the yearning was too great, fueling the need to feel his skin against yours, his breath in your ear. 

You helped him out of his clothes and into the water and waited for him to invite you in next, knowing full well the need he’d feel when he’d recovered from the journey. He held your arm and wouldn’t let go, even as his grunts and groans indicated his agitated and depleted state. So you sat next to him as long as you could before it became apparent you’d need to replenish the hot water in the bath soon. 

He reached for you once the steam was rising from the tub once again. You dropped your sleep shift to the ground and let him guide you into the water with him. “The floor will dry”, you told yourself. “This moment may never come again.”

His gaze was tender and grateful and you smiled back at him, pleased at his reaction to being called here.

“Were you finished?” you asked. “Did I time it right?”

“Just,” he grunted.

“I’ve missed you. So very much.”

“I’m glad you survived your trial. Is this where you’ll stay from now on?”

“Need to know where to find me?” you smirked.

“And when. Yes.”

“I imagine there’ll come a time when I’ll need to go back. I can only learn so much more from books; I’ll need another mentor soon.”

“But for now?” he trailed off with a quirked brow.

“For now you find me here.”

With the water cooled and your bodies’ heat risen, Geralt stood with your legs wrapped around his waist, lips still locked against yours, a hand cradling your ass while the other pressed against your back to keep you tight to his chest. He stepped with ease out of the tub and to the bed, where he laid you down and peeled your limbs from him.

“I want to see you.”

“You’ve seen me. We’ve been in that water together for ages. Please,” you reached for him, but he stood still, head cocked to the side regarding your naked form. You watched him breathe in deeply and sigh the air out as he closed his eyes in contemplation. When he opened them again, you could swear you saw sparks as he acquiesced to your desire.

He crawled over your naked body, drops of water from his long silvery hair landing to cool the fire on your skin. But that flame for him would never douse, not in a million years. And while he had given in to your need to touch him and hold him in bed immediately, he wanted to take you apart slowly.

“Is that it?” he asked, head turned toward the mirror where he could make out his image poured over you, your leg draped over his thigh.

“Yes. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

He pulled back, taking you with him as he shifted to his knees and deftly turned you away from him, facing the mirror.

“What it reflects, certainly.” His voice was low in your ear as you watched the backs of his fingers caress your arms and down your sides. You knew his cat eyes could see more details in that image across the room than you ever could, but he did a good job of putting on a whole show of movement you could see as well as feel, placing kisses along your shoulder as a hand returned to cup your heaving chest. He slid his other hand forward around your waist and down over your belly, reaching for the heat between your thighs. Your eyes closed involuntarily when his fingers found their way inside you.

“Please watch. I want to see all of you, especially your eyes, while you come undone for me,” he whispered in your ear.

You wanted to feel all of him inside you immediately; you were practically bursting with the heat of your need for him but since you knew that would never wane, you gave in and watched the mirror while he slowly and methodically stroked you to orgasm. 

You felt yourself floating back to the bed and watched him peer down at you again while he took himself in hand and lined up at your entrance. He let out a long, low groan as he lowered himself to pulse into you slowly. 

“Fuck, you feel good.”

“I’ve missed this too, Geralt. I wish it would never end.”

“I’m going to make this last, alright?” he asked, head pulled back to gauge your interest.

You nodded and smiled, pleased he felt up to a long night after such a journey. You’d absolutely have to place a mark next to the entry in your spell book you’d used to prepare the bath, as the concoction had clearly done its job.

He didn’t lie. For hours, he teased and tortured you with his cock, grinding you deep and slow into the mattress while he caressed your mouth with his. His tongue tangled against yours, leaving only to trace lines of lust along your neck or chest. Sometimes, he’d roll you over him and urge you to take one of your many releases while riding him upright, his hands firm around your waist. 

You lost count of how many ways he brought you pleasure before he finally pulled you to hands and knees in front of him, once again facing the mirror. Once he was fully sheathed inside you, he gently lifted your torso against him, hand gripping lightly at your neck.

“I want you to watch again. Let the source of your true power soak up every bit of ours together,” his voice rumbled in your ear and vibrated against your back. When you nodded, he pressed you back down, chest all the way to the bed while he gripped your hips tight and rocked into you.

Even now, in this position usually reserved for wild abandon, Geralt made love to you. His movement was calculated, his strokes long and deliberate. His eyes sought yours in the reflection, though it was hard to tear your view away from where his hips disappeared behind your ass.

“Will you come with me one last time?” he begged, completely out of character and for a moment, you felt a sadness you hadn’t expected. Surely he wouldn’t let this be the last time you found each other across this vast lifetime?

“If you promise to come back,” you answered, as if you could ever hold back your release once he began to pump in earnest.

“When I can, yes.” 

With that most useless of promises secured, you smiled and nodded again. “Come for me, Geralt.”

It only took a few more strokes before he came with a growl, and you were lost in a blinding explosion of lights. Collapsed next to one another, you steadied your heart rate and burrowed into him as he curled himself around you. His sustained heat would never allow you to sleep long like this, but you sighed with content anyway. 

You had a home to call your own, and Geralt was willing to follow you here when he could, and that was all you cared about for now.

Taglist: Everything Henry - Please don't hesitate to let me know if you want on or off, though remember sometimes Tumblr won't let me tag you.

@kittenofdoomage @mayloma @fvckinghenrycavill @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel @sweetdreamsofgelato @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @kebabgirl67 @beck07990  @itsrubberbisquit @feelmyroarrrr @dedicated-to-mr-cavill @alexakeyloveloki @marantha @aireraume @angelmather1  @lizzystuffsthings @enchantedbytomandhenry  @omgkatinka @littlefreya @avengersfan25

[roseharpermaxwell]

Bite-Size Drarry - Under 10k (Part Four)

Pausing my RWRB reading (I have an ask about firstprince fics too and I’m working on it!) to answer this, which is the nudge I’ve needed. I’ve done this for Dramione before (under 5k), but I especially love tempting readers to Drarry. 

Short works are the unsung heroes of fandom. They don’t get enough love, which makes me so sad, because you definitely don’t always need 100k to deliver a stunning story. These are your bedtime stories, your palate cleansers, your individual serving sizes of serotonin. It’s okay to enjoy these even if you only read slow burn 100k+ fics, I promise. Live a little! 

This is a sampling of some amazing favorites, but I’m always reading new things and will add to it regularly. If you find something you love, I know the author would love to hear it, and so would I! Take a deep dive into their work to find other gems. 

Here's Parts One, Two, and Three if you missed them.

Bite-Size Drarry - Under 10k (Part Four) below:

Stay by @orange-peony. E, 7k. The day Draco Malfoy finds out that the Manor has finally found a new owner is a Tuesday. It takes him less than two minutes to realise that he’s screwed. He has nowhere to go. Things go from bad to worse when he finds out that he's been assigned a new probation officer. Harry bloody Potter.

Sorry i was never good (like you) by @tigerlilycorinne. T, 7k.  “What is your name?”

Michael Corner puts his cup of tea down. “You already know my name,” he says. He points to them each in turn: “Draco Malfoy. Michael Corner. We went to Hogwarts together.”

“You are the one Harry Potter took to bed last night, correct?”

Draco has a questionnaire he calls the Boyfriend Check for Harry’s boyfriends. Because he’s roommates and friends with Harry, and he needs to make sure they’re up to snuff. 

And also for other reasons.

A Love That Knows of Itself by @sleepstxtic. M, 7k. After an accidental bonding, Harry is forced to confront some longstanding feelings concerning a certain Unspeakable.

Epitaphs in Autographs series by @vukovich. E, 7.1k. (MCD) A series of works surrounding death, imperfect relationships, flawed coping, and humanity.

Knead, then let rise by @softlystarstruck. T, 7.2k. Malfoy stumbles back into Harry’s life via the laundry room. A story about baking bread and tripping over words and falling in love.

Interpersonal Relationships Year 7, Unit 3: How to Have Sex Like a Responsible Adult by InnerLilith. E, 7.3k. Harry came to Hogwarts to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. He did not come to Hogwarts to obsess over Draco Malfoy. He definitely did not come to Hogwarts to channel that obsession into…supervising Draco’s sex education class?

Whatever, Harry saved the world. He could handle sex ed. Right?

Draco Malfoy and the Broken Room by @aprofessionalprotagonist. T, 7.3k. A drunk and morose Draco gets trapped in the Room of Hidden Things with Potter of all people. Now, he’s got to figure out how to make peace with the Golden Boy long enough to get out.

everything you should say by icarusinflight. E, 7.4k. They're not friends. But when Draco offers help, Harry takes it.

The Re-Fenestration of Potter by @cavendishbutterfly, @iota. E, 7.5k. Harry wants the Prophet reporters to stop following him and Draco wants Harry to stop climbing through his window at all hours of the night…even if he’s taken to leaving it open, just in case. Everything is bearable until they both get doused with Draco’s latest batch of Wolfsbane, and then suddenly nothing between the two of them is bearable at all.

of course i cum fast, i’ve got a snitch to catch by swoons. E, 7.5k. Strangest of all, Potter never lasts more than two minutes — and that’s if Draco’s being really, really generous with his time-keeping.

It should be off-putting, but Draco’s just intrigued. Perhaps that’s why he’s watched Potter wank in the showers so often.

The Exhale by spqr. T, 7.5k. Hermione makes a soft, concerned sound. "Harry, look at this." She shows him an article with a photo, but the photo's not moving; it must be a Muggle newspaper. "NASA have just landed a rover on Mars. It's called Curiosity, and look, this is so--I don't know if it's sweet or sad, but--it's all alone out there, and they programmed it to sing itself Happy Birthday." Nothing is wrong, but Harry starts crying.

Lovesick by @corvuscrowned. T, 7.6k. People keep spiking Auror Harry Potter with love potions. Healer Draco Malfoy keeps having to pick up the pieces.

But it's getting harder and harder for Draco to watch Harry fall in love with everyone except for him.

Dating Potters by @goldentruth813, @mzuul. M, 7.7k. Scorpius and Albus have been together for awhile now and decide it’s time to have a family dinner and come out to their fathers. What they’re not counting on is the fact that they’re not the only ones with secrets to share.

Play Dates by bixgirl1. E, 7.7k. Harry never thought seeing Malfoy as a dad would affect him this way.

What I Thought by @bafflinghaze. E, 7.8k. Draco thought they were in a relationship. Harry thought it was just sex. 

First Week of Eternity by InnerLilith. E, 7.8k. Moving in with the colleague you’d like to fuck is a bad idea for anyone. It’s worse when you’re a card-carrying member of the eternal dead. It’s exponentially worse when your already garlic-obsessed colleague-slash-crush-slash-roommate has recently discovered his distant Italian heritage.

In which Draco tries desperately to hide that he’s recently become a vampire, and Harry tries desperately to feed him.

The Trouble with Good Sense by RorouniHime. M, 7.8k. When you fill a hotel with flying quills, hands-on demonstrations, and too many Aurors, someone is bound to get cranky.

The Dinner by @brightowl-fics. E, 7.9k. Draco had been trying to beat the sunset, walking along the cobblestone road to the Chateau where he would be staying that night, when he saw the door. Le Billet Doux, said a painted red sign. Below it, réservations non requises: ‘no reservations required.’

in a rambling way by @fw00shy. T, 7.9k. Ron knocked Hermione up, and now Harry's got to figure out how to clone himself so that his friends don't split up fighting over him. Falling for Draco again was never part of the plan.

Check this hand 'cause I'm marvelous by @lqtraintracks. E, 7.9k. Auror Harry has a crush on Unspeakable Draco, and Draco's dared to give him a lapdance when they're out for Friday night drinks.

Keep Me Here by @academicdisasterfic. E, 7.9k. Teddy/Harry/Draco. The one where Teddy is pining, Harry is in denial, and Draco is impatient.

Driving me crazy (but I'm into it) by @thecouchsofa. E, 8k. Draco’s fucked a lot of people. He’s fucked models, Quidditch players, members of the Wizengamot, even a Muggle actor, but none of them come quite as prettily as Harry Potter.

Leeward by @teacup-tai. M, 8.1k. There’s a polaroid kept in the back of Harry’s nightstand drawer. Just the one. It’s Muggle and slightly yellowish. There are many other photos in a box in the back of Harry’s cupboard under the stairs—the one he almost never opens. A hidden box of hidden memories. After four years since their break up, Harry and Draco meet again at Dean and Blaise’s wedding. Now, between the turquoise sea and the white sand dunes of Fuerteventura, they will need to face their feelings.

in between two tall mountains (there’s a place they call lonesome) by @oknowkiss. E, 8.2k. In the shadow of a mountain on the Oregon coast, there may or may not lie a shipwreck, on which there may or may not be a magical relic, lost hundreds of years ago. Harry's been tasked with finding it, and Draco is there to take notes, and they're stuck in a campervan pretending to be married, and it's all going to be just fine. That's what Draco's gotten rather good at telling himself, anyway.

Born Slippy by @dracoladon. E, 8.3k. Harry finds that it's less 'one tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor' and more 'one tequila, two tequila, three tequila, decide Malfoy's quite fit, actually, and decent company after your friends traitorous abandonment, floor.' With Malfoy lying next to you.

(Un)Anticipated by @p1013. E, 8.3k. Though he won't ever admit it—not even years later, when Draco's giving Harry shit about it right before they go to sleep, the bedside light just dim enough to hide the worst of his blush—it takes Harry an embarrassingly long time to realise that something is wrong. It's not like he's trying to pull regularly. If he wants to get laid, he gets laid. He is, after all, Harry Potter.

But it's not until it's a Saturday morning, and he's languidly stroking himself off in the shower with long, slow pulls that he feels deep in the pit of his stomach, that Harry realises that he's been at this for quite some time, and while it feels amazing and his toes are curling and his balls are pulled up tight…

Nothing's happening.

Contretemps by @moonflower-rose. T, 8.4k. Draco Malfoy has been living like a model citizen. If only he could convince Potter.

Say Anything by megyal. M, 8.5k. Draco has a crush on Harry and tells him in French.

Flight Patterns by @mosrael. E, 8.6k. Up in the air, Draco can become anyone he wants to be, or cease to be anyone at all. When he puts on his flight attendant's uniform he's just one more smiling face in the crowd, a forgettable interlude in his passengers' day. Not a petrified boy, not a criminal, not a Wizard just trying to keep it together as best he can.

That is until a certain someone interrupts his flight patterns.

Stories in E Minor by @huldrejenta. E, 8.7k. Draco has found his place in the Muggle world. He's got his music, he's got his neighbours and he is content. Until a certain someone from the past enters his life again.

Look For Me In The Sun by @wolfpants. M, 8.7k. Harry and Draco are on the run in America after a mysterious string of werewolf-like attacks in the Muggle community causes the Ministry to impose new and harsh anti-werewolf legislation. Giant trees, crashing waves, seedy motel rooms, and the long and winding coastal road awaits them, but will they ever be able to go back home?

Bored by vorabiza. E, 8.8k. Harry and company are bored, so Harry is encouraged to tell the others a sexual fantasy that becomes a little more romantic than they are expecting.

Howl by @tackytigerfic. M, 8.9k. After an encounter with a vicious werewolf, Draco Malfoy wakes in a field hospital with a mangled shoulder, a furry little problem, and an inconvenient crush on Harry Potter. Potter, meanwhile, is still trying to save the world, only this time he wants Draco right there with him while he does it. Taking part in a rebellion against a corrupt regime isn't always glamorous, but at least sometimes there are organic farmshop pastries and fancy hotel bedsheets. Just don't ask about that smell of burning.

Along Came Potter by huldrejenta. T, 9k. Potter shows up at Draco’s flat. Then he shows up again, and again, and again.

Fuel to the Fire by @eevans22, @holygnocchi. E, 9.1k. Sure, Luna always means well. But suddenly Harry is temporarily living with the man he’s been pining over since they started Auror training, who compliments Harry’s cooking, gives him thoughtful thank you gifts, and looks indecently attractive stepping out of the shower. Something’s got to give. And Harry suspects it will be him.

Just a trial run by @tenthousandyearsx. E, 9.1k. In which Harry wants to get into sex work and Draco would prefer to keep him for himself.

Before the Cold Sets In by @crazybutgood, @vukovich. T, 9.1k. Sometimes, the person you should be planning your life with is already in it. Or, how Harry realised that true love is at the bottom of a tea cup.

sex in trees for beginners by @phdmama. E, 9.1k. The bottle lands on Malfoy and sends out its customary poof of smoke and sparks. Harry hasn’t quite figured out the pattern, it’s not like blue means truth and red means kissing. Malfoy’s poof is a deep pink-purple and there are definitely sparks happening as well. It’s really pretty, actually, and Harry sort of loses himself in watching the colors until suddenly he realizes everyone is quiet and staring at him.  “What?” he asks, glancing around. “What did I miss?”  Malfoy sighs. “The bottle gave us a dare.”

Phoenix by @kedavranox. E, 9.2k. Harry's got a fantasy.

Starting Again by @tamerofdarkstars. T, 9.2k. Harry felt the situation rapidly slipping from his grasp and suspected he’d never really had hold of it to begin with. “You want me to be friends with Draco Malfoy because you think that will stop him from being... sad.”

“Bingo, give the boy a prize.”

The Things They Never Say by bixgirl1. E, 9.3k. Harry and Draco don't know how to talk. So they do other things instead.

to be a bit of warmth for you by softlystarstruck. M, 9.3k. As some of the only eighth years to return to Hogwarts, Harry doesn't know how he and Draco will manage to be roommates for a whole year without resorting to violence. But Draco is too quiet, and too thin, and wears layers of sweaters that he tucks over his fingers. So they fall into an unspoken routine, one that soothes Harry as much as it helps Draco, one that's so much easier than Harry thought it would be.

Until it all falls apart, and Harry realizes he holds the world in his hands.

Wooing with Woodwork by @henrymercury. T, 9.3k. According to Ron, Harry needs to make a move on Draco in the next month or he's going to receive a howler he won't want Draco to overhear.

That Draco will overhear is fairly inevitable given they're cooped up in the same DMLE office all day, or off investigating together, and they go home to the same flat at night.

All I Have to Do by @fluxweeed. E, 9.5k. The Patented Daydream Charm (Adult Edition) allows you to enter a top-quality, highly realistic thirty-minute sexual fantasy. Solitude and privacy spells advised. or: Draco finally has some alone time; Harry just needs to nip in for a book.

Sinking to Swim by @pheaphilus. T, 9.5k. When Unspeakable Malfoy gets his latest assignment at the Department of Mysteries, he can't help but curse his own luck. What are the chances that he would have to seek out the elusive Harry Potter for help?

When Draco Malfoy comes to his door, asking for his input into an ongoing project at the Ministry, Harry is skeptical. When's the last time a Malfoy did anything to help anyone but themselves, anyway?

Let Me Roll It by @lagerloutfic. E, 9.5k. “I’m not going to kiss you here,” Harry said, applying a fraction of pressure so Draco’s lips parted.  “No?” Draco said, his breath hot on Harry’s knuckle.  “No.” --- The thing about Harry was, he hated most people. And there was no one he hated more than Draco’s boyfriend Justin - certified knob and all round wanker.  So when he finds out Justin is just as selfish inside the bedroom as he is outside it, Harry can’t help himself.

Sex on Legs in Six-Inch Heels by @tessacrowley. E, 9.6k. Draco Malfoy is a brilliant freelance cursebreaker and the only one who can help the Department of Magical Law Enforcement with a very dangerous case, but more importantly, he's wearing six-inch heels, and Harry cannot handle it, he really just can't.

what if, but if, we could kiss (and just cut the rubbish) by @swisstae. E, 9.6k. “Christ, Draco, get your mouth back on me, I need you, oh God, Jesus fucking Christ,” and Draco can’t help how he shivers, the words dripping down his spine like molasses, sticky sweet blasphemous prayers in the heat of the moment. It’s enough to bring him closer to the edge, and when Harry spills down his throat, hot and bitter and musky, Draco comes with a muffled cry, his cock spurting weakly as he spills all over the floor. (Later, Harry will tease him, will whisper Christ, Malfoy, look at you, so hot for me, Jesus and Draco will come undone a second time, shaking in the safe bracket of Harry’s arms around him.) OR: Draco and Harry are not-quite-friends, but then they are. it is A Time. Ron just wishes he had bleach.

The Little Marauders Nursery and Day Care by @digthewriter. E, 9.8k. Harry Potter is the proud owner of a daycare, and his favorite student is Scorpius Malfoy. Scorpius’s dad might be okay, too.

Gryffindors Never Kiss and Tell by @drarrytrash. E, 9.9k. The gang realizes that everyone has kissed Harry except Draco. Draco proceeds to do a terrible job of pretending he doesn’t want to kiss him too. 

That's all for now 💚 Give the authors some love! I also adore hearing if you found a new favorite fic or author.

I’ll be regularly adding to this, so if you’re seeing this as a reblog, feel free to check my Master List of Recommendations for the most current list. If you see yourself and you’re not tagged, or I've got a broken or misdirected link, please let me know!

[muffinsin]

How would the Demi sisters react to their s/o making them something special for them. Like for Cassandra a knife made out of bone from one of her favorite kills or something. I just thinks I would love to see their reaction. And would they reciprocate weather it’s sexually or making their s/o something?

Also can I be fluff anon. I know I might not always ask for fluff but I do like mostly fluffy stuff with a bit of smut too.

This is adorable! Hoping this will get me outta my tiny writer’s block🙇‍♀️ And absolutely! Fluff anon works well :)

Let’s get into it! :)

Masterlists

Bela

For as long as you’ve known Bela, she’s been a workaholic

And not just this- but downright obsessed with her work

Everything must go right, all must be perfect

Often, it pains you to see her in such a state of constant stress and fear of failure

You know, she constantly wants to prove herself by working harder and harder than ever

And you know, she never once complains about the work that keeps piling and piling on her desk

Bela’s work is incredibly important to her, this much is clear from the start

However, it’s gotten a lot worse lately, with files piling on her desk and meetings overlapping and rescheduling

She’s busy each day, and you can tell your girlfriend is drowning in all of it

She’s losing track of it all, and in her desperate attempt to keep it all together, she not only neglects you, but herself too

It is on one of these days that you find her, passed out on a few sheets of paperwork

Even in her sleep, she frowns and whines quietly and distressed

You decide to help her out, with actions as well as a gift just for her

Bela is too tired to object when you guide her to her bed that day. With her body weak and light from neglecting her normal consumption of blood to stay healthy, it’s painfully easy for you to manoeuvre her to the bed and push her inside

She sleeps, tight, and fast, her heavy eyes closing

You don’t even know when the last time was that she’s slept, now that you think of it

Has it been hours? Days? More, even?

However, you don’t allow yourself to linger and watch your girlfriend for too long; you want to get to work immediately

As such you begin with easy tasks

You pull off her heels and set them on the floor next to the bed, then undo her corset carefully

A smile spreads on your lips when she sighs contentedly

You decide to leave her in her dress for now, instead only pull the heavy covers up and press a kiss to her forehead

A silent promise that you will make it all better again

You arrange a silver tray with a glass of blood-wine and a full bottle of it next to it

In the middle of the tray is a bowl of her favourite of snacks and slices of warm, fresh bread. You cover it up to ensure it stays warm until your lover awakens

When you set down the tray on her nightstand, your eyes linger on her form for a moment longer

Her chest rises and falls slowly, her breathing even. She looks beautiful, the sunlight hitting locks of her golden hair and pale face

She doesn’t seem to mind

Next, you move over to her desk

You take in the no longer organised mess. Papers lay about everywhere, some scribbled on. Even her handwriting is less tidy, as though her eyes shut a few times while she tried to form a sentence

You organise it all neatly:

One pile for finished work. A-Z, with notes sticking out to mark the months the paper was created in, just the way she likes it

A second pile for works in progress. Again, A-Z, with the same notes sticking out again

And lastly, a pile of unedited papers. A-Z, with the same notes, and only some bearing notes with an exclamation mark on it. Those you know she will need to prioritise based on what she’s told you occasionally

You put her pencils back in the case, and clean up the smudge of lipstick left on one of her notepads from when she must’ve smeared her mouth as she rested her head on her desk

Next, you take a seat at her desk and look through her notebook

You know, she’s very well organised. Normally, that is

For now all seems a mess

Dates and meetings are scribbled all over, some scratched out and rewritten or corrected multiple times

You stretch out your arms, then grab a fresh sheet of paper and get to work

It takes you a couple of drafts, but eventually you get it right:

A Calendar for her

Written neatly and organised, you list all dates of meetings she must attend, important events and reminders all on one page

Starting with the date and time , then the title, a small description given one is needed, then a small box for her to tick off once something is done with

You smile at your work

Even have you managed to sneak in a few reminders for her to eat, and scheduled in breaks for her

You’re truly rather surprised when you eye the clock and notice multiple hours have passed

Perhaps this is why your girlfriend always manages to lose herself in her work? You hum, thinking

With a grin, you jump up and pull the curtains aside

With light in the room now, she is bound to notice the time

You hum, satisfied with your work, and tiredly retreat to your shared room

Unsurprisingly, Bela is still fast asleep on the bed. You wouldn’t expect anything else after she’s passed out from exhaustion, either

She only makes a small noise at the back of her throat when you join her in bed, then sighs contentedly as you pull her back against your front

With the lovely scent of her hair surrounding you, you’re able to slip your eyes close at last

In the morning, Bela is flabbergasted

She must blink a couple of times to even attempt to understand what is going on

She doesn’t remember getting into bed, and only smiles softly when her eyes finally set on your sleeping form

Her corset is on the top of her drawer, and she spots her shoes set at the foot of the bed

The scent of blood tickles her nose, and she licks her lips upon seeing the cup on the nightstand

She hasn’t even realised how deprived she is of it, so that when you wake up to her practically swallowing all contents of the bottle in only a few gulps, she can only blush in embarrassment

Your gentle smile reassures you, yet her blush persists as you pull the bowl into your lap and raise some of the snacks to her lips

After breakfast, she sadly insists she must continue working

The mere thought of the mess awaiting her leaves her dizzy

She wants nothing but for the stress to pass. Of course, Bela would never admit this

You follow her into her office, and grin when she gasps upon finding her tidy workspace

She checks the piles of papers quietly, and lifts the calendar wordlessly

Bela isn’t sure what to say. Never has she felt this way

Never has anybody done such a thing for her

Chocolate, flowers, presents, yes. But they never quite meant something. Not like this

Tears form at her bright golden eyes at the realisation of what you’ve done for her

Before you can ask whether she is alright, though, she pulls you to her chest and hugs you tightly. She hopes, begs the gods, that this hug can convey her thankfulness

“Thank you, little one”

Cassandra

You can’t help but giggle at Cassandra’s loud groan

She’s laid on top of her bed, with her arm outstretched and on your lap and her head hanging from the edge of the mattress

You know, the poor thing is bored to bits

With the temperature low, so many restrictions are now in place

For one, she can no longer hunt until it warms up, and you can tell it’s driving her restless

She’s groaning again when you only trace her skin carefully. She’s getting impatient

Upon feeling you squeeze her lower arm roughly and massaging her cool skin, she quietens down again and keeps purring contentedly

Another major restriction is the inability for her to see her merchant

Yes, of course the duke is still available, but Cassandra hardly cares about him

No, you know she’s not interested in that one. You know another catches her eye

The strange fellow with the large backpack and rag-covered face

The weapon trader

And while she sometimes sends you out to see what new weapons he has in stock, you know Cassandra yearns to see her for herself

And you know, especially now she wants to make trade with him, now that the number of staff members is low

That part is not a surprise, really

In winter, the number of employees drops massively due to the boredom of the sisters

In turn, however, it means there are less staff members to torment, and less people to attend to the usual tasks

Some tasks are simply no longer supported, such as keeping Cassandra’s weapons sharp

And while she enjoys sharpening them herself, you know they are too many for her

You know your girlfriend, and know she only gets impatient when hours pass and she hasn’t even cleaned half of them- let alone sharpened!

You decide to help her out

For two weeks already have you been planning and crafting in secret, all to see a smile on her face

Because truly? A smile on Cassandra’s face is often a rare sight in winter

She sits up abruptly, her teeth grit angrily, yet you don’t flinch

Her anger isn’t directed at you, and you know it. It’s merely her frustrations let out

Cassandra only calms down a little when you cup her cheeks and press a kiss to her lips, warped in a scowl

Eventually, her facial features relax again and she whines quietly. Annoyed. Bored. Utterly frustrated she can’t go out and have fun, or even taunt maidens, and worst of all- not even practice using her weapons because none are as sharp and shiny as they should be

You tangle your fingers in beautiful, auburn hair

“Why don’t you take a trip to the basement, Cass?”, you propose, and with a small smile, hand over the dagger you keep on your person

Her eyes practically glisten at the sight

It’s one of the few weapons within her reach left sharp and clean

Her hand almost trembles with excitement as she grabs it from you, and you can’t help but smile at the sadistic grin on her lips

A kiss is pressed to you before she eagerly swarms off, and you ensure you waste no time

You rush into your workshop, and after making sure your girlfriend is nowhere in sight, pull out the small, unassuming box from beneath your desk

Inside lays a bone, shaped into a knife. A bone from the varcolac she had slain during your first hunt together

While it still looks rather unassuming, you’re making progress

A blade and handle can be recognised, and while it is by far not sharp yet, you’re getting it there

Without any ado, you keep working

Your first objective is the handle. While it looks boring so far, you plan on changing this

You craft and shape it until it is bent rather than straight, and using a pair of gloves snatched from her room, you make slight dents to allow for a better grip

It’s a tedious process, but turns out just as you want it to

The bone is smooth, but hard

You grip the handle tightly and smile. Yes, it will do nicely. It still needs refinement, but that is for much later

You notice, nearly two hours have passed already from merely this

Next is the blade itself

While right in shape already, it must be sharpened. You want it sharp enough to draw blood from the smallest of contacts

A blade sharp enough to do her right. An edge lethal enough to do her justice

You give the blade a slight tilt too, and smile when the blade begins to cut into one of your gloves soon enough

When the tip too is sharp and the blade nearly shines as you turn it, you smile satisfied

Almost done, after weeks of work

You wrap brown leather around a part of the handle for a tighter and more sure grip

Next, you make small carvings into the backside of the blade

A small, neatly carved C. You know it will forever shine against the light colour of the bone once blood fills it

When satisfied, you smile in triumph

You rest the bone dagger back in the box, careful not to cut yourself, and proceed back to her room

As expected, she is still occupied in the basement. You know, she will likely not return until your blade is coated in blood, she has grown satisfied with hearing her prey scream, and the blade of her dagger is dull

You put the box containing your gift on her desk, knowing she will seek you out before she even notices the box

Instead, you move to her personal armoury

Weapons of all kinds decorate the walls and shelves, barrels and tables. Swords, sickles, rapiers, shields, bows, daggers, machetes and hatchets, even a warhammer she likes to look at from time to time

You start easy, with the daggers. Sharpening them goes quick, and cleaning them even faster. She has even started on some already

One, two, three, the fourth one is sharpened and polished in little time

Then the swords. One, two, three, four, five, six are now sharp and shiny again. The muscles in your arm ache a little bit

You tend to the two shields of the room. Metallic, and bearing the Dimitrescu symbol at the front

Cleaning them is an easy task that takes you only half an hour once you work them off and back on the wall

The rapier is sharp, so that you almost cut yourself already. You merely clean it and curse when it splits your rag in half

Then the hatchets and machetes. You clean them eagerly, even if it takes a while

Putting the bow back in its proper place is a task that only takes a few minutes. Gathering all the arrows and putting them back in her quiver comes next

And lastly- her sickle. You retreat back into her room to find it discarded at her desk, useless to her with its half-sharpened blade

It seems, though, after half an hour of sharpening and scrubbing, your lover has grown tired of being apart from you

You gasp in surprise when you find swarms of flies around you, until you feel the familiar weight of her on your lap

She hums, her eyes wide and excited as she sees what you’re doing

Her dark, golden eyes are glued to her sickle, made sharp again under your fingers

She reaches out to swipe her index finger along the edge, then moans and crackles in delight when a cut is quickly made and dark blood runs from her fingertip

Cassandra feels lightheaded when you grab her wrist and bring her hand to your mouth, your warm tongue dragging up her finger and to her cut

You see her glistening eyes and spot the excitement and love in them

You get her. And she gets you

“You sharpened it”, she remarks breathlessly

She tugs the weapon from you, grinning happily

You nod. Yes, you did

Cassandra giggles in delight as she catches her own reflection in the sharp blade and feels your arm wrap around her hip

“Not only that”, you whisper, your breath tickling her ear and your lips teasing her skin. She’s shivering beautifully for you

“Your armoury is back in order too, my love”

The words make her feel lightheaded again. You- what?

She resists the urge to swarm off to see right away. She trusts your words

“Aren’t you a good little servant?”, she teases, a small smirk on her lips. Still, by the look in her eyes and her fingers gripping the sickle tighter, you can sense her gratitude

You get her. There is no need for the proper words. You know her love and gratitude

But, you have one more surprise up your sleeve

When you push the box to her, she all but rips the top off excitedly

Her eyes shine a brighter colour for a moment as she spots the dagger

She lifts it, and brings it to her face. Inhaling sharply, she moans

You know you must not explain what it is made of. She recognizes it immediately, the scent of the animal still lingering on the bone. The scent of her triumph

She moans in delight, and as she drags her tongue against the blade, gasps all too happily when she finds herself cut again

A sharp edge of her blade. Lethal when swung right. Harmful in every way

It makes her skin tingle

You only smile knowingly when she grins at you, blood coating her lips and the edge of the blade

You gasp in surprise when the blade is brought to your neck, hovering just before your skin. Untouching. Merely an unnerving presence

“The things you do to me…”, she groans

Her light smirk and the excited shimmer to her eyes tell you- the two of you will spend the remaining day and night testing out just how sharp her new dagger is ;)

Daniela

You know many things of Daniela, and learn more as time goes on

You know she loves romance and music, dancing and singing, fantasy and books. Princesses and thoughts of faraway lands, flowers, the sky, and her family of course

When you find out when her birthday is, at last, after years of being together, you know it must be special

She reassures you- after so many centuries, her birthday is simply another day

She didn't even remember it until you found out when it was and reminded her

The realisation shocked you

You would think out of all people Daniela would treasure her birthday the most

Still, she barely talks of it even after you remind her. She insists- it’s nothing special, and you know, someone must have given her such a feeling and thought

You intend to fix such a foul mindset

You know, she secretly aches for a special day just for her

A birthday again, no matter how old she is and grows to be in her immortal life. You want to celebrate each birthday with her, and you want each to be perfect for her

Daniela is your everything, and deserves only the best

And you want to give her just that

Knowing her special day is not for another few months has given you time to prepare accordingly

You begin planning early on into the year, so that it’s all perfect in September

You include Bela in your planning, eager to have someone with true authority at the castle on your side

Like this, you can work at night without having to justify each action multiple times

Like this, you can do more or less as you please as you work

Your preparations in late summer include most of the planting of seeds in the castle’s garden

With Bela’s help, you manage to lay out the shape perfectly. It has to be perfect

You work throughout the day while Daniela is out hunting, uncaring of the sweat that plagues you as you work in the sun

Upon returning, your girlfriend never suspects a thing, even when she finds you working and planting things in the garden

Too excited to keep from rambling on, you always know a break from work is due when Daniela returns

As such, summers are spent preparing your surprise and leading your beautiful girlfriend through the gardens as she talks of her hunt

Months pass, and the temperature drops a little bit

You’re a little worried

What if September is too cold and your surprise won’t survive the cold temperatures?

Alas, as the month rolls around, the gods seem to be on your side

You are rewarded with a sunny September, in which temperatures barely drop to anything below 17/62 degrees c/f

Daniela is enthusiastic! While she is not supposed to be out a lot, Alcina allows the sisters to leave the castle a few hours a day to hunt and play outside

You know, normally the drop of the warm, summer temperature means they are locked up in the castle for their own safety

Not quite this September, it seems

You wait patiently, grinning as the days pass

The first of September

The second, the third, the fourth, the fifth, the sixth, the seventh, the eight, the ninth

Many days of the month pass, yet the temperature stays stable

Daniela seems oblivious to her birthday nearing rapidly

She spends her days outside as much as she can, chasing her sisters and hunting together, causing torment and messes wherever they can

Each day she returns with a large grin on her adorable face

While each sister is somewhat greedy, all are surprisingly enthusiastic and contend with the few hours they are allowed outside per day

They all know not to stray too far, nor to stay out any later than they are allowed to

And each day, Daniela brings you a little gift from her hunts

Sometimes it’s a flower she finds blooming in the forest

At other times a ring or necklace from her latest prey

Sometimes, she finds you a leaf that shines so beautifully in the light, it catches her attention

You’re eager to return the favour in the form of a surprise on her birthday

And so, more days pass

Both of you are so happy, and as the last days and hours pass, you prepare accordingly

At 11:20pm the night leading up to her birthday, you awaken to your alarm

You smile at your girlfriend as she sleeps contentedly

Her face rests on your chest, her soft cheek smudged against your skin. Her eyes are shut and her breathing is even

Daniela only whines occasionally in her sleep, or grins. You wonder what dream she is having

With her warm and comforting presence by your side, you are almost tempted to stay in bed a little longer

Yet, as tempting as it is, you know not to. Your surprise awaits at last

You run your index fingertip down her nose, smiling as she whines and rubs her face against you, as though to rid herself of the ticklish feeling

When you tap her bottom nose again, Daniela whines in return yet again

“Daniiiii”, you coo

She groans, a small, sleepy whimper coming from her

You can’t help but giggle at her. She’s so adorable

Golden eyes open slowly and with great effort as you cup her warm cheeks, before they scan the room

There is no threat however. Only the two of you

She blinks in surprise when you move forwards and press a kiss to both her warm cheeks

“I’ve got a surprise for you, my love”, you whisper. Immediately, she seems more awake

A surprise? For her?!

She’s thrilled!

You help her out of bed and pull some of the clothing you’ve laid out for her to the bed

Her puzzled look makes you smile, even as she frowns in confusion. Why would she need such warm clothing now?

You share with her: you plan on taking her outside. While wary of Alcina’s command not to take a step outside, Daniela grins in delight. Mother doesn’t have to know!

You help her into warm clothing, consisting of leggings underneath her thick trousers, your shirt and hoodie and a warm coat for your girlfriend

You place a beanie on top of her head and smile widely at how well it fits her

Then, you work on putting thick gloves on her petite fingers

And lastly, you gently wrap a scarf around her neck. You cover the lower part of her face with it to ensure the wind can’t get to it

With only her nose and cheeks out, you press a kiss to all three and smile when it pulls a giggle from her

Daniela watched curiously as you pocket a small box, then allows you to pull her through the castle halls

She forces herself to refrain from giggling when the two of you sneak past Alcina’s wing, and hums as she allows you to grasp her hand and move her along

Was she her sister, Daniela might’ve grown suspicious why you aren’t taking her outside through the main doors

Was she her sister, she might’ve become on edge when you move and open the door to the castle rooftop

Daniela, however, trusts you

And so she only gasps at the cold air that attempts, and fails, to get to her through her thick clothing

She gasps again, in surprise this time, when you carefully move until you take the stairs to the smooth, even area of the rooftops

A table has been dragged there, adorned with blankets and thick clothing just in case she would get cold

“Close your eyes for me, my sweet”, you request, and smile as she does so

This proves her utter trust in you

How she closes her eyes and allows you to guide her to the edge of the roof. Even with the cold air leaving her vulnerable- not yet lethal, but certainly enough to make it hard for her to swarm. Right to the edge, where you could push her to her death

Of course, you don’t dare even consider such a thing

Daniela feels your hands cover her eyes when she is led to the edge of the even, balcony-like part of the roofs

“What are we waiting for?”, she asks softly

Your whispers in her ear are her answer:

“Just a few more seconds, baby. Then it’s your birthday”

She suddenly feels shivers run down her spine in anticipation. Her birthday- she has almost forgotten all about it. Or at the very least tried it

Now though, she can’t help but smile and feel hopeful

You didn’t forget

You glance at the clock set on the table, and smile as you whisper in her ear yet again

“Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one…”

“Happy Birthday, my love”

Daniela blinks away the darkness when your hands move from her face and her eyes open up again

Immediately, they widen at the sight below her

The castle garden shines beautifully. Lamps have been set up, lights adorn the trees and hedges

But most impressively: there is a heart shaped spot in the grass that blooms with red roses

You gasp in surprise as she dashes forwards, over the edge of the balcony and forth to the true edge of the roof

She bends forwards, as though trying to get closer to it

For a moment, her head turns and she shoots you a watery smile

She shivers as she uses what strength she has to swarm back to you, and blushes when you gently wipe the tears from her eyes

“It’s so beautiful”, she whispers

You send her a smile in return and gasp in surprise as she pushes herself back against your chest and cries softly

“You’re the best”, she cries happily, her petite frame shaking with each sob that comes from her

When you cup her face again, you are thick to wipe her tears with your thumb

“Now Dani, your birthday is no occasion to cry on, my love”, you whisper back to her

A gentle smile is returned to you as she turns her head again

Up this close, you see her eyes practically sparkle as she looks at the many lights and beautiful roses in the garden

“Tomorrow, we will pick them, my love”, you promise her

She gasps your hand tightly as she pulls you in for another kiss

Only does she let go when she feels your hand fish for something in your pockets

The box!

Her eyes widen when you open it and a beautiful, golden necklace is revealed. A single, beautiful, green crystal is attached

You gently put it on her, smiling when she smiles so brightly at you. Her eyes and lashes are wet from tears, happy ones

“Happy Birthday, Daniela”, you whisper with a gentle smile

[r4d14t3lov3]

Intertwined

Kotallo knew right away that she hadn't eaten properly when Aloy entered the rec room and leaned heavily against his workstation. She was beyond tired, and in desperate need of rest.

He also knew she didn't want to hear about it and would need extra tender loving care tonight.

"Aloy," he started, but was immediately met with a stubborn sigh and arms crossing over her chest defensively.

She looked away and muttered an annoyed, “Don’t start. Please. Don’t.”

Kotallo moved closer, the armored pieces of their tassets touching but she kept her gaze determinedly averted. A moment passed in which he watched her shoulders rise and fall ever so slightly with each breath she took.

There was only one solution ─ close combat.

Kotallo eased his left foot between hers, intertwining their legs. As if on cue Aloy put her head on his shoulder, uncrossed her arms and wrapped them around him.

There she was, Kotallo thought, put his arm around her and kissed her hair.

“I’m just tired,” she began. “It’s been a long day, and somehow I had the hardest time fighting off that stupid Rollerback just outside of Salt Bite.”

“You didn’t sleep well either. And you left without breakfast.”

“I took the left-over slice of Blood Bread from last night…” Aloy mumbled.

“That’s not enough, my love. You have learned this lesson before.”

Aloy huffed a tired exhale. “Can we please just go to bed and snuggle. I never want to leave this embrace.”

Kotallo smiled. “As soon as you’ve eaten,” he said, took her chin between his fingers, then dipped his head and pecked a quick kiss onto her soft lips. “I’ll make us Mountain Caps,” he offered affectionately. “And there’s fresh Mountain Trail Bread from this morning.”

“Then we can cuddle?”

“If you promise to eat a proper breakfast with me in the morning.”

“I promise,” she smiled into his lips, and Kotallo let himself be pulled into a deep kiss.

“You know, Marshal…,” she whispered, when their lips parted.

“Hmm?”

“I love how you show your love.”

Kotallo’s heart burst with such joy and affection that he pulled her back into his chest, never wanting to let go either.

[shadowofahope]

Possibilities

Warnings: a/b/o dynamics, aggressive alpha tendencies, swearing, near-death experiences, mentions of heat and suppressants

Pairing: Nonidol!Changbin/Nonidol!Minho x Reader

Premise: Omega Primes were rare, being forced to reproduce with other Primes. You never liked the idea of mates, forced or not. A runaway Prime, with two alphas to catch their fall and open up a whole new realm of possibilities.

Author’s notes: Soooo, I'm like secretly/not so secretly obsessed with both of these men right now. When I had originally written this I had no plans to post it, but here we are. Months later with the inability to let it go. I hope you enjoy it regardless! This was definitely written purely for me and my soulmate @jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue to drool over💜

Word count: 8.8K

masterlist

“Chan when I say, hold your breath grab Felix and run. Don’t stop until you have Felix safe.” Chan nods to you, he might now know exactly what your plan was but he knew as well as you did that you both had to get Felix out of there. 

“What are you thinking y/n? We can’t leave you here.” Felix huffs, his breath getting harder to release from his lungs. Chan holds him up, arm under his shoulder keeping him close.

“I’ll be fine Lixie, I’ll catch up Yea?” You give him a reassuring smile, followed by a wink. Focus still on the hoard of Alphas that had unfortunately followed Felix on his attempt to escape.

“Y/n-“

“Now chan!”

You hear him inhale deeply before he’s holding it, grabbing Felix hand and see them dart forward. Heading towards the exit from the roof.

In an instant you release your pheromones. Inducing your own heat.

All alphas that had followed Felix up to the roof had now turned on you. Now forgetting about the preheat omega.

Releasing a ragged breath, lungs thick with hot air. It’s like you can feel every bone in your body, every inch of your skin triggered by electricity. Your clothes feel itchy against your heated flesh. 

You barely register the door reopening, this time without the receding Alpha and Omega, but in a mere blink 2 new alphas had joined the swarm. You’d roll your eyes if you could. 

Fucking Alphas.

It’s only a matter of time before one of them advances on you, in any attempt to pounce and take you. Take you as the others join in. A shiver of disgust runs down your spine. The saliva in your mouth is feeling too much now. 

You take a step back on sinking legs. Taking a distracted moment to peer behind you. 10 stories, you could make that…well uninjured wasn’t likely but at least you would be away. You’d need at least a few hours to be able to reel in your heat. Your foggy mind reminds you to stay focused on the alphas in front of you, which would normally be your most pressing issue however in your escape-deciding thoughts the two new alphas that have joined late are now directly standing in front of you. 

And they’re snarling in the direction of the swarm. That’s when your muddled senses detect it. Like freshly baked bread on a cold day, with a hint of something sweet. Aired out bed linen left outside on a warm day, something toasted dances within it. The scents fused together, getting stronger and stronger by the second.

Your eyes adjust briefly, Minho and Changbin stand off against the triggered alphas. 

“Well that’s new” You manage to mumble. As you watch them snarl and defend you. If you were in another state, you’d say you were impressed. Maybe your scent was just really repulsive to them? If you could remember, you’d ask later.

You fight through the Omega need to find an Alpha to satiate your rising hunger, pulling out all of your Prime strength you can. If there was ever a time to be thankful for being a prime it would be now. 

Even if the two could fight through the mass, too many people would be hurt.

Your spine straightens, eyes flashing to Prime, voice taken over.

“ALPHA.” Your Prime voice makes everyone halt. The alpha voice might be a terrifying weapon for alphas to use against omegas, but they had no idea what the Prime voice could be capable of. “DOWN.”

Your command is taken instantaneously, the swarm of alphas on the roof all drop to their knees. Their bodies shake with their inability to control themselves. 

“LOWER.” the voice growled from you. On their knees, hands and chest to the roof the alphas went in unisent. 

All except two alphas. They continue to stand vigilant. Which once again, if you remember you’d ask them about that.

You know you can’t hold it for long. Your body almost giving into the full heat you’ve thrown yourself into. 

Speaking of throw, without another thought you feel your control snap. Simultaneously as you throw yourself over the railing plummeting down to the concrete below. 

The last thing you hear is the voices of the two alphas above scream your name, as your feet slam into the ground.

----

“Most primes are protected. Then there’s you, inducing your own heat and then throwing herself off 10 story buildings.” Your specialist doctor chastises as he finishes taking your vitals for the day..

“You’d be bored if I was like regular primes.” You jest. He shakes his head, but doesn’t look at you. It's the same old song and dance with you two.

“If your family-”

“If my family cared, I’d have a legion of guards to protect me. But they don't, so I take care of myself.” You finish for him, he finally looks at you. Eyes pleading as always.

“A broken leg is taking care of yourself?” He gestures towards your very large cast, covering from your foot to your mid thigh.

“I didn’t say I was the best at it, did I?” You give him your best fake sincere smile.

“Fine. But could you atleast think about finding someone to bond with?” His sigh of defeat sends an itch over your skin. “I don’t care if it isn’t an omega, hell it could be an Alpha or even a Beta. But atleast that would be some form of safety net for you.”

You don’t answer. You never do. For as long as you’ve been alive you’ve been told you had to mate with another Omega Prime, keep the family line strong. But you cut ties with your family long ago and couldn’t find it within yourself to feel comfortable with the idea of a mate. 

“I worry about you.” He goes back to packing up his things, keeping his back to you. 

“I know.” It’s all you can manage.

You hear him sigh loudly again as he makes his way around the room, hesitating by the door.

“Hey doc.” You call as his hand is on the door knob. “Thanks.” 

You had a lot to thank him for. Not just this time, but continuing to look after you when you left the Prime courts. He could have easily walked away from all your ridiculous behaviour and you wouldn't have falted him for it, but he chose to push on being your doctor. Helping you in any shape and form you needed. 

“I’ll see you soon.” He smiles at you before opening it. “Hello Felix, are you feeling better?”

“Yes Doctor, a lot better. Is she awake?” You hear the fake light tone from the hallway. 

Ah shit.

“Yes she is.” You look away, you weren’t ready to apologize for what you did. You did what you thought was right. 

You listen as he enters. Shuffling as the door closes.Theres a moment of silence before he speaks.

“You said you’d catch up.” Felix sniffles from the end of your hospital bed, you look at him. 

“And I did.” You try to lighten.

“A broken leg wasn’t part of the deal.” His angry eyes bore into you. “You could have been really hurt.”

“I know, I’m sorry. But I’m alright.” You motion for him to come closer, shifting slightly to give him enough space to climb on the bed with you. When he snuggles in you feel his body relax. “Just a little sore. Nothing to worry about. I’m just glad you’re safe.” 

----

A few days in the infirmary felt like years with the amount of boredom you were in. The only highlight was Felix joining you when he had some down time. 

Another day of Felix fussing over you, running back and forth to make sure you had food and liquids and you weren’t in pain. Eventually he settled down to eat with you, your conversations turning back to that day.

“I was terrified when the Hyungs passed us on the stairs. Chan tried to yell at them not to, but it was too late.” You can see the crease between his eyebrows as he thought about it. “I really thought they’d become like the others. But now I’m so glad they were there.”

You don’t say anything, your memories coming back are fuzzy. A drowsy flash of two alphas snarling in defense, rage and protectiveness aimed at keeping you safe. 

“I knew Changbin and Minho have really good control over their instincts, but that? I really am impressed.” He chuffs, proud of his older members for keeping themselves in check. 

In a cloud you remember their backs, the muscles tight with Alpha stances on full display. But…. Had you managed to direct your Prime voice to only the lost alphas? In a normal circumstance you wouldn’t second guess it. However, inducing your own heat had made it almost impossible to differentiate one alpha from another. The musky clouds of Alphas making your stomach feel like it was made of cement, your Omega instincts could still smell the two. 

Wait, have you ever really smelled them before? It was them wasn’t it? You don’t go around smelling others for the reason that most scents are slightly nauseating. So with your Prime abilities you forced your Omega instincts down. But did that really mean you just never noticed that you completely ignored others scents?

Glancing over at felix you let out a hesitant sniff, a citrus burst with a dash of caramel. Ok, you could smell him, he smells like he always does. So why did you….

“What do Changmin and Minho smell like?” 

You watch him pause, taking in your words. He looks up at you visibly confused.

“You’ve never noticed?” There sounds like there’s something hidden in his voice, something you aren’t sure what it is.

“I guess not.” You contemplate. “I think I smelt them on the roof, but I don’t think I’ve ever actually paid attention to it before.” 

“Ah, well they have kind of off putting pheromones.” Felix gently tries to explain. 

“Off putting?” That does shock you. What you smelt on the roof was nothing like that.

“Yea, um.” An awkward cough escapes him. “Minho Hyung kind of smells like… pure sugar? Too sugary, sickly sweet? If that makes sense. And Changbin Hyung smells…well…. burnt.”

You think back to the scents from before, letting your senses reimagine them. The comforting pheromones filling your lungs, even now makes your brain go cloudy. Was it them you had smelt then, or was it different Alphas in the throng of chaos. 

“They both take some special suppressants to kind of dampen them, but I try not to breathe too deeply around them. It’s not as uncomfortable as it used to be, but you can still smell it.” 

“Huh….” 

“Was it them?” His question is genuine. “It would make sense for them to be emitting really strong pheromones during all that.”

“I’m not sure.” You shrug, you don’t need the younger omega to worry about anything else right now. “It’s ok, I’ll just sniff them later.”

“Well don’t forget that I warned you.” He laughs off your words. Back to eating the homemade food he brought with him.

A hint of warm baked bread dances on the food. Which seems odd because Felix didn’t bring any.

----

The next day you had another visit from your doctor, he checked your leg and vitals, making sure your heat was down before agreeing to sign your release papers.

“I’m only agreeing to this because if I don’t you’re only going to make it worse for all of us.” He exclaims. You could tell he was tired. He was extremely busy. Being a Beta and scent deaf meant he could treat all subgenders without any issue of pheromones getting in his way. It was one of the reasons he had stayed with you since you were a kid. It’s why he even became a doctor. “However, I have arranged for you to be looked after while you finish healing.”

“Is that really necessary?” You whine, shifting yourself to the side of the bed, carefully bringing both feet to hang down. 

“Yes.” 

Ok, no room for debate clearly. You silently sat there as he collected himself, coming over to stand in front of you. Without realizing it you were already pouting.

“Just….please. Heal first, cause mayhem later.” 

You nod, pout still there. “But who-” 

The door swings open and your eyes sparkle. 

“Ready to go?” Felix asks from the door, the bubbliest smile on his face, a large duffle bag in his hands.

“Really?” The giddiness almost taking over. 

Felix was always so busy with his group, you and he barely had time to spend together. So to have him being the one to take care of you, you are excited to say the least. 

Your doctor rolls his eyes at you, “Let’s get you home.”

----

Having Felix as your temporary caretaker was probably the best 2 weeks you’ve had. 4 more weeks of Felix and you having movie nights, letting yourselves indulge in more Omega oriented activities. By that you meant creating one big nest for the two of you to sleep in together. Your bed wasn’t big enough to create the perfectly comfy nest to happily tingle your omega needs, so you two had chosen to make it in the living room under your large sky light. Pushing your couch back slightly to make room. He had brought all of the bedding and blankets and pillows he owned to yours, and you had instructed him where you kept the thick comfy quilts. 

You hadn’t made a proper nest in a long while, and as comfy as it was, as perfect as it was…something was missing. You just couldn’t explain what, so you didn’t mention anything. It really wasn't necessary. 

Felix did an amazing job helping you in your mundane everyday tasks. Honestly, it had never been so much fun. But a foreboding was approaching; Felix’s heat cycle was shorter than others. So within the next week he would be slipping and he wouldn’t be able to look after you and you sure as hell wouldn’t be able to do anything for him. 

He had asked if he could take half of his things and half of yours with him when he was away for that week. Him saying your omega scent would help ease the time. Of course you agreed wholeheartedly. You offered him every piece of fabric that smelt like you that could be moved. 

You had been able to get around with crutches now, but some things were still difficult. Simple things felt derailingly exhausting, without completing things you’d need a 2 hour nap to recuperate. On the day his pre-heat began he let you know that someone would be by to check up on you later in the day. Leaving you with breakfast and a half nest. You had hugged and bid goodbye. Your now vibrant apartment now stark and boring. You sigh to yourself, annoyed with your already darker demeanor. 

Giving up you climb back into the half made nest, too tired to fix it. The scent of citrus barely there. You push away your thoughts as you fall into a light slumber.

—

Your sleep groggy mind reacts before your body. You feel too heavy to move, sleep threatening to pull you back in. Was someone baking a pastry? If they were, it smelt delicious, you hoped they would save you some. You rolled slightly, to alleviate the pressure you were putting on your cast, you must have curled oddly in your sleep. A wave of clean bedding wafted over you. Did someone bring you some new things for your nest? That was nice of them. 

You compelled your eyes to open, on your back staring up into the sky light. Too much sun beaming down on your face causes you to outwardly groan, rotating to prop yourself up eyes adjusting to your apartment again. 

You watch the figure in the kitchen, wearing your apron tied snuggly around his waist, shuffle back and forth, chopping and then back to something on the stove. You drag yourself with your hands and good leg onto your couch to observe them better. His light brown hair, catching in the sunlight, almost dances a copper tone. His feline features once and a while angled better for you to catch glimpses of his concentration. Contentedly you watch him, sitting silently as he doesn’t realize you’re awake. 

That is, until the itch to know becomes too unbearable.

“Lixie says you and Bin take pheromone suppressants.” It's not a question. You watch him halt his movements, but only for a split second then resuming his cooking.

“Yes.” His voice is relatively mellow. At least he doesn’t seem annoyed talking about it. So far.

You hear the bathroom door open from the hall, heavy footsteps coming into the main area. 

“You’re awake” Changbin smiles at you. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired. I’m bored of being tired.” You explain away. “How can you both need them? I was surprised when he told me. Especially when I thought I smelt you both on the roof that day.”

Changbins weary look is directed at his hyung, he had no idea what you were talking about. 

“The suppressants work well.” Minho continues working. “You would know if you smelt us.”

“Burnt and sickly sweet right?” You recall what Felix said that day.

“Yes.” Minho answers again, this time looking at Changbin he nods sheepishly. Almost looking disgusted with himself. 

“Can I smell you?” 

“What?” Changbins head shoots up to look at you. 

“You want to smell us?” Minho, finally forgoes the cooking to fully face you. 

“Haven’t you smelt us before?” Changbin tries to deflect.

“Maybe, but I’ve never noticed anything… ‘offensive’ coming from you two.” You explain. “So I want to check for myself.”

They exchange panicked expressions. 

“You don’t have to, but I would like to.” Your petulant pout adorned on your face.

Eventually Changbin speaks up, “We, uh don't mind. We’re just worried about you.”

“I promise I will not throw up.” You chuckled at them. 

“Ok but don’t say we didn’t warn you.” Minho shakes his head in disbelief.

They cautiously make their way around the couch, coming to stand in front of you. 

“Who first?” You exclaim cheerfully. Once again they exchange weary looks then roll their eyes at your nonchalant attitude of this impending wave of disgust to hit you. 

“Me.” Minho kneels on the floor, making it easy to get close enough to his scent gland without causing you too much physical strain. You shift forward, leaning into his neck making sure not to make any contact. You give a hesitant sniff, the suppressants they are on must be really strong. You inch closer, taking a deep inhale. 

The smell hits you instantly. You keep a straight face.

“Changbin.” 

By the gods you managed to get your voice out in a steady tone.

Changbin follows his hyungs position, Minho now standing to observe. 

This time knowing how close you needed to be to actually smell their pheromones, you move right away. Leaning in and taking a second deep inhale of the night. 

Your face blanks, as they now stand together waiting for your definite repulsion. You take a moment, not able to see the look of dejection on their face. 

“Well…It was undeniably you two that I smelt on the roof.” You finally manage. “But I need to ask you both something. When I used my Prime voice on the alphas, and when you came in contact with my heat pheromones, what was running through your minds?” 

They looked at you quizzically, “we…our instincts wanted to protect you. That’s what we were thinking.. Well we weren’t actually. Our alpha instincts took over.”

“As for the voice… I don’t know how to explain how we felt but… it was like if someone didn’t obey it we would make them? Almost giddy, I guess.” 

An airy laugh leaves you. “That’s new. How many more surprises are there gonna be with you two?”

“What-? Our scents?” Changbin redirects back to their previous worry.

“I’m glad you guys take suppressants, because you have the most delicious pheromones I’ve ever smelt in my life.” 

“Did the doctor check to see if you hit your head?”

“Ok, rude.” You huff. “I am never giving you a compliment ever again.”

“You’re sure it was us?” Changbin points between them.

“Yea. 1000%, like a puff pastry with powdered sugar on top and toasted chestnuts in the  morning wrapped in clean linen.” You pout, body slouched back on the couch angrily.

“We’ve never heard those before.” 

“Well, I'm sorry to burst your gross bubble, but you two don’t smell gross.” Shrugging them off you turn your attention to a new curiosity. “What’s for lunch?” 

----

Over the next few days none of you bring up the pheromone conversation again, nor do you bring up their reactions to your Omega. It does however continue to remain an inquiry for you. You wait patiently for today to finally ask someone about it. Cast changing day. 

You let your doctor remove your cast, asking you pain questions and general health ones. As he is casting the new one you finally let yourself ask.

“What would it mean if an alpha didn’t respond to an Omega Prime voice?” The nonchalance in your voice is clear. 

“That would depend, was it intentionally directed to avoid them or was it an all for one?” Keeping his eyes trained down, his hands don’t stop moving, wrapping the bands around your calf.

You let yourself think over the situation before answering.“Since it couldn’t have been properly controlled, let’s say all for one.”

“Well…..”

“Hm.” You contemplate his words. “And what if an alphas' instinct was to protect instead of mount, with an omega in heat?”

“Please don’t say mount.” He grimaced, eyes still down but hands pausing briefly to show his dislike even more than with just his face.

“Aright, instead of ‘try to take by force’.” You stifle your laugh, but continue in your questioning. 

“It would suggest…..”

“Uh huh.” You struggled to take in his answers, but the gist of it wasn’t lost on you. “Last question, what if an alphas pheromones and natural scent was repulsive to everyone around then except one omega, to that omega they smelt really good. What would that suggest?” 

“Why are you so weird today?” He stands to examine your face, finally looking at you. He knew something was going on, it’s not like you were hiding it.

“More than normal?” You give an over exaggerated grin. 

He stares at you blankly for a moment, like he’s considering letting you feign ignorance or pushing you for information. Luckily he doesn’t take too long to decide, he already knows if you’re going to tell him you will. 

“No.” Is his final answer. “It would most likely mean…..”

“Ah.” You flomp back on the mattress, eyes now trained to the ceiling. Your face scrunches up in annoyance as you piece the puzzle together. A puzzle you never asked to have to deal with. You didn’t like complicated things like this, you preferred simple and easy to push along.

“What is this all about?” He sounds worried, he was always worried.

“I think I may have found….”

----

The mindless boredom you had begun to feel while stuck at home, was starting to give you an anxious itch. If you were right about it, and the information your doctor told you did in fact back that up, it would be a time if the boys found out. 

So you kept quiet, no issues if you didn’t bring it up. Clearly they thought differently.

“We think something is going on.” Changbin announces from your kitchen. They had come over together to help you complete some work and make you dinner. Felix had something come up and they had volunteered. 

“Well I’m hoping it’s not something bad with my food.” You nonchalantly throw over your shoulder, fingers typing away on your laptop from the couch. 

Your nest still a mess on the floor. Felix had offered to fix it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to let him. Something was still missing.

“With the three of us.” Minho finishes. AH, so they noticed something. Your hands still, recline back arm over the back of the couch, you lounge out. 

“And what exactly is happening?” You inquire, body calm, mind ready to receive any information they might have dug up.

They gave each other a mild once over before exchanging a nod. Approaching you with hesitant energy but sure steps. You could smell them stronger than normal today, maybe that was because they were nervous? Or maybe because your Omega was trying to smell them out? Either way, you ignored it.

“We’ve done some research.” Minho supplies. “About you not finding our smells repulsing.” 

“The only things we could find are research papers on the idea of the rarities of fated mates.” The words come out of changbin so fast you’re surprised you even understand it. 

“It’s a possibility that one of us could be your fated mate.” Minho simplifies. 

“Smart boys.” You chuckle. “Looks like we’ve come to the same conclusion then.”

They stare at you dumbfounded. 

“I was also curious about my Omega pheromones having certain effects on your alpha instincts.” You continue. “And it seems they have also indicated that. However, I’ll tell you both now. Just because it appears that way doesn’t mean I’m about to jump on either of you.” 

“We get that. We just want to make sure we're all on the same page with what this could possibly entail for us.” Minho confides, emphasizing their sincerity. These boys knew you well enough and what your view was on ‘mates’. 

You sigh heavily, how was the idea of the possibility of having a fated mate this exhausting? 

“And we want to be honest..” Changbin directs your attention. “We both have felt drawn to you. If this possibility was right and you felt something for one of us over the other, we’d be ok with that. But we also don't want you to feel like you have to do anything.”

You gave them a soft smile. “Thank you boys. If it had to possibly be anyone, I’m glad it was you two.” 

Upon some form of conclusion for the night, they helped you hobble over to the kitchen table to eat for the night. 

But there was still a lingering thought playing in the back of your mind that you couldn’t quite settle.

----

“A FATED PAIR?!” Felix screeched excitedly from the other end of your couch, flailing pillows and plushies toward you.

“The possibility of a fated pair.” You correct, dodging each oft blow with a giggle. You knew he would have an over the top reaction, which honestly was one of the reasons why you did want to tell him, but also you didn’t want to spend the evening answering his million questions.  

“But TWO?!” His excitement wasn't about to die down. “Holy shit. How are you going to choose?”

“Lix, I’m not going to choose.” You hush him, wanting to bring an end to this interrogation. “Listen, I won’t choose someone just because my omega wants me to. I need to actually like the person first. I need to know them.”

“It’s Changbin and Minho.” He reminds, giving you a pointed look.

“I know, but you and I both know how badly couples can end just because they go along with their sub genders needs. I’d rather be sure.” You recall past mutual friends of yours and how disastrous their situations turned out when they let their instincts fully take over. It had left the friend group shattered with no amount of apologizing and forgiveness could mend what had been hurt.

“So you are going to pick one of them?” He still pushes.

“I’m not saying yes and I’m not saying no.” You finish, huffing before mumbling to yourself. “We could still be wrong.”

----

Work had called you asking if you could come in, there was a specifically rude alpha writer that demanded the editors who worked on his last piece to be there. He had first come in requesting only Alphas to work on his writing. The manager had told him that they would do the best they could but they had limited Alphas available. The top editors in the firm were you, two other omegas, an alpha and a beta. However, that didn't seem to be good enough.

Apparently he had just realized that it was 3 omegas who had been credited for the editorial, even though the 3 of you had also worked on his previous project. To top it off he was also very into his hierarchy of the subgenders. 

Thankfully for you, you had just entered the free standing boot phase of your recovery. You hobbled into the firm, the receptionist welcoming you back, and warning you of what might be in the conference room. She also let you know a little piece of extra information about said writer. He was a dominant alpha male.

Upon entering the room you are enveloped with the intense heavy set musk of dominant pheromones. The need to vomit crept up on you, leaving a nasty taste in your mouth.

“Sorry for being late,” You respond normally, pretending not to notice the provoked alpha on the far side of the room. Not to mention, the two omega editors cowering in at the side table, looking meek and shaking in their chairs. “I’m still a little slow on my feet.” 

Your Alpha manager rushed over to you to help you alongside the others, the shallow tremble in him didn’t go unnoticed. “No worries, y/n we were just going over the issue.”

“Is there an issue?” You ask cheerfully. First you get a read on the hostile energy. The dominant alpha stands tall, smug expression on his face as he watches everyone in the room struggle to keep themselves together. 

“I would say there is, omega.” His voice instantly makes your brain itch, and not in a good way. Gross. Also his need to identify your sub gender to the room really tests your ability to hold your eyes from rolling. “I requested alpha editors to be a part of the project, not three omegas. I need my work to be looked over carefully and with exceptional skills. I am sure you three are adequate but I don’t like being kept in the dark about my own work.” 

You pretend to mull over his words, this man clearly needs others to bow down and grovel at his feet. 

What an unfortunate choice for him.

“As I recall your novel hit #1 on the charts for 4 weeks and it was completed before the deadline.” Your professionalism is on full display. “I am sorry if you do not feel that your work has been properly looked after. But our firm never promised for an alpha only team, just as you did not feel the need to read over the creditors before releasing. On all the paperwork you were given about the piece, our names and subgenders were clearly marked. You did not raise a complaint nor concern at the time.”

“So you’re saying that was my neglect then, Omega?” His vocal demeanor changes to a lower tone, rasping out as the room spikes with more pheromones. He evidently was trying to will you to submit, which once again was unfortunate. 

“Could you please not refer to me by my subgender, I do have a name.” You sigh, how annoying.

“You don’t like to be reminded that you are an Omega?” It almost comes out as a snarl at this point. This time you can’t stop from rolling your eyes. 

You push the rollie chair away from the table, turning to face him front on. You side glance over to you manager, then to the antagonistic male then back. Asking for permission, you could see him struggle to nod. The Dominant pheromones now getting to his inner alpha, his instincts fighting to not submit either. You look at your fellow omegas and they are truly a mess. Tears streaming down their faces, heads down, already submitted a time ago. 

“It’s not that I need a reminder. I am very well aware of what I am.” You stated coldly. “You, however, need to be educated.”

His sick chortle of a laugh fills the room. One you were more than happy to silence.

Your Prime voice ready to extinguish his joy.

“SIT.” 

He’s instantly on the ground, mid laugh causing him to choke. 

“CRAWL.” 

You watch him fight against his body, as he trembles onto hands and knees moving towards you. When he’s close enough for your amusement, you hear the omegas behind you stop crying. You can also hear your manager finally take a deep breath. 

“STOP.” 

He sits there on the dirty carpeted floor in his stupid looking designer suit at your feet. You stay seated, comfily reclined in your chair. 

“The only reason this firm worked on your piece in the first place was because it was a favour for your uncle. The amount of work that went into salvaging that piece of crap you spewed is ridiculous. Not to mention no other firm would work with you.” You reprimanded. “You should feel thankful that our manager agreed to it, thankful that you had two of the most professional and invaluable editors we have.”

“You are free to go to another firm, at this point we’d all be grateful if you did. I will remind you, Omega or not you have NO RIGHT to compromise another with your pheromones. It is against the law and we will not hesitate to file against you. Understood?” 

Your eyes glower at him with the intensity of a Prime, he nods sheepishly. 

“Now apologize to my coworkers and manager for wasting their time and disrespecting this firm.” 

His hurried words of begging for forgiveness meant nothing to you. You watched him collect himself and retreat out of the room. The omegas hugging you in thanks.

“I’m surprised you were able to hold off from that alpha. You made it look so easy.” They seemed mesmerized by you. 

“It was.” You stated confidently. “They're not my Alpha.”

----

“A horde of alphas isn’t enough for you? Now you’re tackling aggravated dominants?” Your doctor insisted on an omega specific checkup. Even for you, over exerting yourself while still healing could be dangerous.

“It was only one this time.” You mutter, back in his office once again. You swore you might as well live here with how often you keep showing up. The receptionists and cleaning man were all on a first name basis with you.

“Does your alpha know that you’re making dominants submit to you?” He muses from his desk, looking over your test results.

“My what?” You try to contain your shock, but then again he could read you pretty well. 

He gives you a ‘cmon really’ type of stare, “I’ve known you long enough to know you don’t ask questions unless they’re relevant and of interest. It’s easy enough to put two and two together.” He stands to place the blood pressure wrap around your arm. “So how does your alpha feel about it?”

“They’re thrilled.” You stone face, eyes locked on your arm.

“Really?” 

“Giddy even.” You pout defiantly. 

“I know it’s a touchy subject, but do you have any plans to mate with them?” You could hear the sincerity in his voice. You didn’t want to hide anything from him, if anything he would be the one to help you figure it all out. 

“I-There’s two.” You look up at him.

“Two?” He gives you a perplexed look, before lightly chuckling. “You definitely don’t make things easy.”

“Yea yea. I’m the definition of the perfect patient.” You roll your eyes, a smile breaking out on your lips.

“This might be an idea, but maybe you should test their scents against your heat?” He suggests, pulling the monitor away.

“...how would I do that?” 

“Well, your heat is coming up shortly so I would say to ask each of them for something to have with you during it. If your Omega reacts more to one scent then the other you know at least you know where part of you stands.” 

That could be a piece of the puzzle you could use.

----

A day out. You desperately needed a day out, especially with your heat approaching. Bless Felix for planning with everyone to finally get you out of the house. And like the bundle of sunshine he was, he decided it would be best to hit up all your favourite local pier. One that happened to be equipped with a few rides, bowling alleys, mini golfing courses and other small activities. 

Of course the first plan of attack was a couple of the rides, your boot and all slugging into mechanisms. The last one being a sort of enclosed type tilt-a-whirl, which to be fair did have some pretty steep drops. The line was a little longer for this one, so you all cued together. When you got to the front of the line you had just begun sorting into smaller groups.

“I’ll sit with Changbin and Minho” you volunteer, hand raising in the air. The two started to pack themselves into the enclosed bubble.

“Really?” Seungmin quips almost astounded that someone would want to. You roll your eyes, heading to follow them in.

“It’s groups of 3, and there’s 9 of us. Does anyone else want to be crammed in a tight space with them?” You challenge, the look of horror on their faces was more than enough as an answer. “Exactly.”

As you begin to enter the ride Minho holds his hand out for you, steadying you as you step over the gap. Changbin, waits for you to sit before closing the door behind you. 

“Are you sure y/n?” Changbin asks, settling himself across from you. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.” Your tone annoyed but strong. “I like your scents, even if there was someone else wanting to come in with you I’d still be here.” 

Minho turns away to try to hide the smile on his face, changbins sheepish smile is turned down to the floor. You couldn’t help admiring how cute they were. 

How did you not notice that before? ….. you knew, being one disappointment after another you had turned off and locked down your omega. Becoming unable to view anyone as anything more than a friend. It was safer that way. In your old world only other primes were eligible for you to mate with. But maybe now it was time to turn it back on, let yourself notice things, let the possibilities in.

“Oh I wanted to ask you guys a favour.” You pull them back, the ride slowly inching forward to let the next 3 in. “I don’t know if Felix mentioned it but my heat is starting in a couple days and -“

“We know.” Changbin cuts in. “Uh, we know but Felix didn’t tell us.” 

You eye him for a moment, there was something he wasn’t saying. You glance at Minho.

“We can smell it.” Minho to the rescue.

“Smell it?” You give yourself a quick sniff. You couldn’t smell anything. At least you don’t normally until the day of. “Huh. Ok? Well I was wondering if I could borrow something from each of you during my heat?”

Their eyes spring back to you. Shock is not the right word to explain what you see. 

“My doctor told me to test my omega. It’s been mostly dormant for a long time because of my upbringing, so if there is something going on with us” you motion in a triangle “seeing the reaction my base instincts might be helpful, you know? My omega might gravitate toward one of you.”

You could see it in their faces that they were contemplating your words carefully.

“I mean, it does make sense.” Minho agrees.

“But what about you not being swayed by your omegas needs? Your choice?” Changbin seemed concerned.

“I will not let my omega mount either of you before this me decides how we might feel.” You give them the Boy Scout salute. 

“Mount?” Changbin bursts into a full laugh. Finally the mood lightens again. The three of you buzzing by the time the ride actually gets into full swing. You and changbin both needing to hold onto Minho as he yells about wanting to get off. Changbin just screams incoherently and you can’t stop laughing. 

Thankfully the rides controller takes pity on them and slows it down to let your group off. Both boys stumble out but still manage to help you off. The rest of your entourage wanting to go again.

You decide to head into the building that holds the bowling alley, your incline down the last steps proves to be a little slippery as your booted foot slides out from under you.

The impact with your ass and the carpeted floor makes you grunt. They both let out maniacal fits of laughter at your landing. 

“Ha.Ha. Help me.” You demand, pout uncontrollably appearing.

“Watch out if we don’t help her back up she might use her prime voice on us.” 

“Yea because that worked so well last time” you rolled your eyes and huffed. Thankfully they still help you into a seat next to an unused lane. “Besides, if anything it would just make you two high or something.”

“What do you mean?” That causes them to stop laughing.

“Apparently it’s another possibility. That being fated to a prime means the voice doesn’t work on you like other people. Alphas have no choice, their inner alpha hates it. Like nails on a chalkboard. But with fated it hits the serotonin and dopamine thrill.” You smirk, flashing them bright eyes batting your eyelashes. 

“Our own personal dealer?” Minho chides.

“Nice.” Changbin retorts, they high five. “I’ll grab you shoes….or a shoe.”

“I’ll grab drinks. You.” He points to you, then your chair.

You wave him off in indifference to scan around the alley. You guys hadn’t been here in almost a year. It was almost scary how it hadn’t changed at all. Still a musky smell of ocean water, easy pizza and burgers, as well as a hint of BO. The workers were younger than you remembered, but you were also older than you remembered. Chuckling to yourself at the nostalgia. Your eyes find their way over to Minho in the line for the concession. 

His broad back and slender waist turned to you. He wasn’t as slim as a lot of the members, Ji specifically. No one could beat that man's waist. He never really wore shirts that were tight fitted, which in hindsight could be quite a shame….that went for Changbin too. Minho was taller, with sharp features, but still soft to look at. But that was him, wasn’t it?

He looked cold from the surface, not really responding or speaking but he was extremely observant. If you had to guess his love language would definitely be acts of service. He wasn’t good at accepting compliments, which made it all the more fun to dish out. Watching the blush creep up his face as he tries to hide it. He really was dependable. There was no doubt about that in your mind. He had such a deep caring nature for those he cared about, anyone would be lucky to be bonded with him.

Just as you fall deeper into his silhouette, Changbin appears in front of you.

“Shoe!” He chimes cheerfully. A single show for you and two pairs for them. Before you can say anything in response he’s down on one knee in front of you. 

Pulling your good foot by your ankle he rests it on his leg, untying the laces and slipping your foot out. He’s extremely fluid and delicate in his movements, it’s weirdly mesmerizing. His strong hand reaches over to grab the single bowling shoe, sliding onto your foot with ease. 

How did he know your shoe size? You’re sure that’s something you’ve never brought up before. You can see the top of his bleach dyed hair, his roots vaguely noticeable. Another observant one, he and Minho clearly shared that in common. However he seemed more like a words of affirmation type… He always knew exactly what to say in any situation. Always knew how to make someone feel better, he was truthful in a way that seemed more uplifting even with sour news. His shoulders were broader than your other friends, his ability to gain muscle was something to be desired for sure. His obvious soft eyes could turn fierce in a second if he felt he had to. 

It took everything in you to not reach out to feel his hair run through your fingers. 

And just like that you snap back out. Your shoe on and laced up, and Changbin standing to accept his drink from Minho. Minho doesn’t say anything as he places a drink down next to you. You peer over at it not sure what you were expecting as you hadn't told him what you wanted. 

He notices you staring at your cup. 

“Water.” He states, sipping on his drink. “Too much caffeine doesn’t sit well before your heat.”

He turns away, both men now replacing their shoes. They had moved on to another conversation. But you felt stuck.

‘Water…water…’

How did he know caffeine makes you feel gross during your heat period? You’ve only ever mentioned it to Felix. Did Felix tell Minho about the caffeine? Did Felix tell Changbin your shoe size? How did they know…. When did they know?

Just as your minding your words to ask them about it, the others in your group come barrelling down the stairs. Laughter stealing your attention, maybe later. You’d ask them later.

----

Later your ass. You never did get round to asking, your mind in a sort of whirlwind since. But still  the day before your heat Minho and Changbin showed up at your apartment, they both had decided the best thing to give you were one of the most worn hoodies. Apparently Felix told them you tended to get really cold between waves of need. Changbin had brought a black one and Minhos was a light gray. They had made sure the day leading up to they had worn them without taking suppressants. So they slept, ate, worked out (per your request) in the hoodies. 

You thanked them, letting them know you’d wash them before returning and you were sorry for however state they ended up. They laughed and said they knew what they had agreed to. 

And with that you locked yourself away, awaiting the pain and insufferability of going through your heat alone again.

Your doctor's idea was a good one….well it would have been if you were someone else.

----

The day after your heat ended you had managed to clean yourself and your apartment up. Your fridge was now empty of the premade meals that Felix had given you. Now understanding why they had an underlying smell of a bakery, Minho was the one who made them for you.

You had your answer post heat, but did it really change anything? Should you tell your doctor? Felix? Changbin and Minho? 

You were already emotionally mentally and physically exhausted, but this was just ready to make your head explode. Deciding fuck it, you placed both sweaters unwashed in sealed bags. Keeping them separate from each other and from stinking up the whole building. Throwing them in your backpack and slinging it over your shoulder. You texted Minho asking if they were both home stating you had to talk to them. He instantly replied that they were and you could come over anytime.

You rushed to get your shoes on and head over to their shared apartment. Of course they would share, now it makes more sense because of their pheromones and your understanding of them. Clearly something you once again didn’t notice before.

Your fist against the door sounds a lot more aggressive than you meant it to be. Changbin opens the door, almost taking you by surprise, but don’t let it stop you. Dropping your backpack onto the middle of their living room floor. 

“Are you ok?” Minho questions quickly. “You smell…sour?”

“Did something go wrong?” Changbins clearly worried. They both are. 

“No…well…it did tell me…things, I guess.” You fumble your words, which is most definitely not like you. “I just had to get out of there. I was thinking too loudly.”

“We get it, it’s a lot to ask of you” Minho reassures. Why did that make you feel even shittier?

“My backpack.” You look down to the mass on the floor. “I brought your sweaters back…”

“Before you say anything y/n.” Changbin walks across the room to you. “We have a favour we’d like to ask of you. Or at least we hope it could help?”

“We were thinking, what if we each took an item from you for out ruts?” Minho joined him in front of you. “It might not be the same as your heat, but at least you’d be reassured on our end that our alphas are 100% wanting this. Just like…..we are.”

“You-?” Fumbled, seriously now was not the time to lose your ability with words. 

“We both have genuine feelings for you. Alphas or not. People to people. If we could have it our way, honestly we’d be willing if you wanted both of us. Our alphas agree…” Changbin smiles softly. 

You take a step back, baffled by them. Two of the most capable human beings wanted you, you as a person. Not because you were a prime…and their alphas wanted to be with you too. Alphas wanting to be with a Prime, not only that but share? This was beyond a possibility. This was impossible. You let out a dry airy chuckle, now standing confident to face them.

“In my backpack, are your hoodies. I didn’t wash them.” From confusion to mischief, the look in your eyes hypnotizes them. You reach down, pulling out each sealed ziploc piece of clothing. Tossing them at the males they catch them effortlessly, without looking away from you. 

“I think I’ll let you find out for yourselves.” 

They blink themselves back, glancing down to the packages in their hands. You see their jaws lock in place. Could it be worry, or they’re both ready for their chance to be disappointed or is it the thought of being able to smell what you smelt like during your heat. 

Regardless it didn’t matter now. You all needed answers, you had heard theirs. Now they need to know yours.

Hesitantly, with shaking hands they open the bags in unisent, letting the smells intrapped inside to explode out. They both swallowed down a lump in their throats. You can see them inhale deeply and shudder. Something about watching them on edge, waiting for their answer, both wanting awakens your omega. Instead of fighting them down you let them watch, to take in the sights and scents with you. You can feel your left eye be taken over by your omega. For the first time, in your life your omega and you were working together. 

During your heat you found a harmony within yourself you didn’t know you could have. 

Changbins shoulders roll back as the stress vein on Minho's neck protrudes. They reach in, taking a moment to look at each other exchanging a nod and pulling the garments out. The fusion of your scent on full blast and theirs erupts. It feels so thick it will probably stick to every surface in their apartment.  

They scan over their individual pieces, you can see when they and their alphas understand what they are holding in their hands. Your omega purrs, feeling the pheromones of a pleased alphas circulating. They both hear it when you let the sound come out of your mouth. One eye normal, one omega taken. 

“It’s difficult to wear two hoodies at all times.” Your voice sultry, vibrating with the purr from your chest. “Maybe one of you should give me some pants next time.” 

You smile widely at them. Their alphas are just as shocked as they are, looking to each other and what's in their hands it sinks in. 

You wore both. The whole time your omega needed an alpha, you clung to both. You used both to fight for release. 

“Or how about instead, you both join me?” You smirk. “Because I’ve already starting falling for both of you.” 

The smile on their faces was beyond breathtaking. To think you might have missed this. You never wanted to miss this. Miss them. 

The possibility seemed so unreal months ago, but now could only have been a definite since the beginning. 

masterlist

[multific]

New Purpose

Hvitserk x Reader

Summary: After losing Ivar, he was lost. He wished to die but couldn't. He promised Ivar he will live, but how can anyone call this a life?

Hvitserk drowned another cup before standing, as he did, he nearly fell over. 

He was way too drunk. He shouldn't have drank so much but he needed something to numb the pain, something to make him feel other than grief.

He should have died not Ivar, he should have been the one for Odin to take. And yet, Hvitserk was here and Ivar was gone.

As he got out of the pub, he started walking, no particular place in mind, he just walked.

Then three men stopped before him.

You were on your way home, you really shouldn't be out so late all alone. But you lost track of time.

On your way back to your home, you tried to avoid people as best as you could. Turning one corner you noticed four men, you hid behind the fence, trying to think of a way to escape.

"Are you a damn Viking or what?! FIGHT!" one yelled, this is when you noticed it wasn't four men, well technically it was but, it was a three against one. One very drunk. 

You heard a couple punches being thrown then a loud groan before footsteps left. You looked back, you saw a man on the floor while the others walked away.

You wanted to get up and leave, run home and never come back into town again, you could do that.

But you had to have a heart...fuck.

You slowly walked over to the man, noticing the blood on the floor.

"Sir?" you asked but no reply. You could see he was breathing. You looked around, no one was there to help. He let out a groan as you kneeled beside him. "Can you stand?" 

It was quite a struggle to get him to your home. It was further from the village as you prefer to have your own privacy, slowly but surely he managed to wobble back to your place, while leaning against you.

He was reeking of alcohol, his arm was bleeding where he got cut and he threw up twice on his way to your place.

You patched up his arm and soon he was in your bed, sleeping.

At the time, you had no idea what you just got yourself into.

---

The next morning, when you woke up, you immediately started on some bread.

Kneading it before letting it rest and rise. As you turned you saw the man who you brought home standing by your table.

"I don't remember laying you. But I'm not complaining." he smirked and you nearly gagged.

"We did not do such a thing. You got your drunk ass kicked and I brought you here. You were laying in your own blood and mud." you said pointing at his wounds which you patched up.

"I thought you were just rough with me." the smirk again. But this time you said nothing. Instead, put some bread on the table and a small vile. 

"Put this ointment on your wound twice a day. Or don't and watch as it gets infected and kills you."

"Harsh lady, you are. But thank you for your help. I shall take my leave." he grabbed the food and the small vile from your table before heading to the door. "Hvitserk Ragnarsson. My name, if you ever need help." and with that, he left.

You weren't sure why you would ever need his help. If anything he would need yours. 

You rolled your eyes and headed to your garden.

Slowly forgetting about him as the days and weeks passed.

One day, he turned up out of nowhere.

"I didn't know where to go." he said as he stumbled into your home. "My leg." he said as he sat down in one of your chairs, you started to lift his pants when you saw a huge gash oozing blood. 

"I will need to stop the bleeding. Don't move." you rushed to get your herbs and medicine before returning. "I'll have to close the wound, it will hurt. Take this." you gave him a vile to drink and he did. You let a couple of minutes pass before grabbing a needle.

---

Hvitserk was now asleep in your bed. 

Once again.

You wondered what had happened to him to get such a nasty injury. 

You hoped he would heal well. 

You cleaned up everything around the house, washed the floors and started to prepare some soup.

You had no idea why you acted like his little wife, and yet here you were.

Damn you and your kind heart. 

And yet you helped him, you fed him and when his fever got high, you were there.

Slowly his wound began to heal.

But you noticed a change in yourself.

You noticed that you longed for his company, that you really enjoyed talking with him and hearing him laugh. You adored his smile and you realized you would do anything to keep him smiling.

It was a dangerous feeling.

But it was so good.

His leg was healing nicely.

Damn you and your natural talent to cure people.

His leg was healing which meant he will soon go.

And you knew, you had to let him go.

There was no reason for him to stay. You were silly to think the smiles he gave you were more than a friendly smile. You were silly to imagine a life with him.

You knew this.

And yet, you couldn't help your heart.

You couldn't help it when your heart skipped a beat every time he laughed. You couldn't help but imagine what it would be like if he stayed with you.

But Vikings weren't like that. They lived for the thrill, for the raids, you couldn't hope he would give that all up just for you.

It was a silly dream.

And yet, every night you went to sleep thinking about it.

You felt silly. But you couldn't help your heart. 

Or your drunken mind.

He opened the bottle, he poured you all the glasses, and now here you were, tipsy and way too honest.

"I know you are going to leave in a couple days. I have been expecting it every day."

"What do you mean?" he replied, a little tipsy but not as much as you.

"You, Hvitserk are as blind as a bat. I care so deeply for you and yet... you do not belong to me."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about how you just waltzed in and stole my heart! So unfair! I can't be in love with someone who is going to leave me! I can't get my heart broken like that! It is so unfair. And yet, every morning, when I wake up, I fear you would be gone, so I always check if you are still here first before moving to make breakfast. Every. Fucking. Morning. The one time you weren't in bed, I nearly fainted but you were already in the kitchen yourself."

"Waltzed in? Love me? Don't be silly, Y/N, no woman loves me."

"You blind bat. How can you not see that I care so deeply for you? Women in the market say to catch a man try through their heart, so I did.  I cook or bake for you anything you say! I healed your leg, I healed your wounds. I am so hopeless. I know I will get my heart broken and yet, I can't help but hope." you didn't even feel the tears running down your face. "I hope you would feel the same towards me, that you would stay and... love me."

"Y/N..."

"I heard it many times before. 'I only see you as a friend', 'I only see you as a sister' or 'I am sorry if I give you the wrong idea' there is always a 'but'. 'I care for you Y/N, BUT' I have been rejected many times before. I hoped you would be different. You are a Viking, you are very different. But I'm prepared for your leave. I bought a bottle of wine, it is in my room, waiting for me to open it so I can cry myself to sleep and get over you."

"Y/N, I thought my intentions were clear." you looked up at him, confused. "Where I'm from, we court women by giving them gifts. After you healed me first I couldn't stop thinking about you, then I got into that fight and I ran to you for help. I knew my feelings were real, I just told myself yours weren't. I gifted you many things to court you. The fur on your bed? I killed and skinned the animal myself, made it into a gift for you. I got you cheese, I got you a new jewellery box and your necklace. What did you think they were?"

"Gifts... for the food I gave you? For the healing and for my help?"

"Not exactly. I meant to win you over. I have deep feelings for you as well." you looked into his eyes, sitting across from him you reached for your cup and took a swing, emptying it. 

Then, you did something Hvitserk would never expect from you.

You laughed.

You laughed so hard you actually started to cry.

"Oh wow, that now that was something else. Where's the but? There is always a but as I said so go on!"

"No buts."

"Oh please, Hvitserk come on! I help, 'I have deep feelings for you as well, but... I have to leave because we are too different?" he shook his head, no.

"Alright, then how about I have deep feelings for you as well, but... you are not the kind of woman I see myself with." he shook his head again, no.

"I have deep feelings for you as well, but...-"

"There is no but. I'm just as afraid of your rejection as you are of mine."

You sat there for a moment, suddenly the alcohol leaving your brain as you processed what just happened.

"So, you won't leave?"

"My leg healed weeks ago and yet I'm here. I was waiting for you to throw me out."

"You want to stay?"

"I wish to know more about this feeling I have inside. This love I heard so much about but never experienced until I met you. I wish to learn about it with you."

"You want me?"

"I want you more than anything and anyone. I want everything and anything you are willing to give me. If that's your clever mind or your gorgeous body, it is up to you. Do you want me to stay?"

"More than anything. I used to be so lonely, even with my animals."

"Do you want me?"

"Of course, I do. I want all of you Hvitserk." 

"Can I kiss you?"

"Please." it came out a lot more desperate than you meant it to. 

Both of you stood up way to fast as you stumbled to catch the other and your lips met in a sloppy, messy kiss.

Once the kiss was over, he didn't let go of you.

He would never let go of you after.

Hvitserk didn't fully give up the Viking life. He would go on to teach his children about it, he would also not forget his brothers or the things they have been through. 

But above it all, Hvitserk would never forget about the kind woman who gave him shelter when he was most vulnerable. The woman who gave his life a new purpose and reason to keep going.

He would never forget about you, who gave his life a new purpose.

Taglist: @fleursirvart​ @greenarrowhead​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @sincerelyfan​ @theoneanna​ @aestheticsandmarvel​ @rororo06​ @castellandiangelo​ @destynelseclipsa​ @spilledinkindumpster​ @capsiclesdoll​ @puknow​ @alwayshave-faith​ @soleil-dor​ @alex12948​ @lxdyred​  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​ @praline357​ @trshngyn​ @avengers-r-us​ @violet-19999​ @top1bbgloak​

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

             DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

[minhosimthings]

Hold me Without Hurting Me

Chapter 13: Tulips and Tough luck

A/N: In which an old friend fills your life with flowers again, along a bumpy sided road.

Pairings: Ceo!Jay × Ceo!fem!reader, includes rest of Enhypen and certain other groups

Warnings: angst-fluff, hurt/comfort, friends to enemies to fake dating to enemies to lovers, Mentions of food and alcohol, swearing, nothing much but it's a bumpy story.

Story prompt: If I had a flower for every time I fell in love with you, I would walk in my garden forever. (This story is based on the language of flowers.)

A/N: I am very sorry for the long wait, and I know this chapter is really short BUT WE ARE ARE ALMOST AT THE END YAY two more chapters to go and then we will be done. So just a little longer until I finish the next chapters and we'll be done!

SERIES MASTERLIST

You had always regarded regret as a shallow emotion. What even was it and why would you ever feel it? Regret, in your opinion, was an emotion made up by humans who hadn't done their sowing and were now looking for their bread. You had felt regret only two times in your entire life. The first, when you couldn't raise your tongue up to tell Jay what he needed to hear and the other, when you stared at Jay's naked chest and his peaceful sleeping face as you scanned your room with cautious eyes. The room felt hazier than it usually did and the bed averted more comfort than it usually did.

You had just fucked the man who you swore not even to talk to. And for some reason, regret wasn't coming easy to you.

The rising and falling of his chest like mountain valleys attracted you, drawing you in like a magnet to iron. You checked the alarm. 10 o'clock. And you were late for whatever was scheduled today.

The slight movement of Jay's body made you flinch as you heard a groan escape from his lips. His eyes opened slowly and his nose twitched, like a cat awakening from its slumber.

"Good morning." He said, yawning and pulling the covers closer to him, "How did we get like this?" He chuckled at the end of his question to which you smiled, at how eased he was.

"Let me guess." You ran your fingers through your hair, "I got drunk and horny, you got horny, and somehow this room had magical powers to make us fuck each other."

"You're on the pill right?" Jay asked uneasily, letting the covers fall a bit down. "Of course I am Jongsoeng." You rolled your eyes, "You think I'll let you fuck me raw that easily?"

"You did, once." Jay mumbled, avoiding your eyes, "You still smell the same." You could feel the remorse in the tone he used, whispering into nothingness, refusing to look at your face.

You still smelled the same.

A rather depressing complement, but a complement nonetheless.

"Would you like to shower first?" Jay asked hesitantly, turning to look at you in the eyes. "Oh yeah thanks." You said, meekly pulling on your blanket, "there's a shower downstairs too, if you wanna go first cause I gotta..... You know."

Dressing in front of Jay seemed like a very good option. Showering with him? Even better. But unfortunately the human mind does not like to say it's true feelings out loud, lest it's heart take full control, so you watched sadly as Jay quietly left the room with nothing but his pants on, getting up to go to the bathroom yourself before noticing the hickeys on your collarbone.

'Great' you thought 'so this isn't a very amazing nightmare.'

"Jay?"

"Hmm?"

"Did- did you mean everything you said last night?"

Jay's concentrated eyes faltered at that. You could see his body slightly shudder and his fingers start to fiddle with the button of his coat as he adjusted his outfit, from your position at the couch.

"If I said I did, how would you react?"

His question made you stop in your tracks. You tried to distract yourself with anything in the room, in order to calm yourself down.

Tarragon, Zinnia, Tulip. Every flower in the room was distracting you.

"Y/N, answer me." Jay knelt down to your level, his face mere inches from yours.

His eyes seemed soft, genuine, bringing back a kindred memory for you, which you had hoped to stash away.

"I- Jay, did you truly mean it?" Your tears were on the verge of escaping, "Tell me you feel for me like I do for you." A but dramatic in your part, but what is romance without drama?,

"Tell me-" you would have asked him a question that had been stuck in your throat for a time un-ideally desired, "Tell me you regret everything that had happened fifteen years ago."

The sweet scent of the tulips in the room distracted Jay, telling him to keep his secrets inside. Someone else can tell her, why should I?, ran a mile through his mind. Tulips. The sweet sunlight in a smile. And Jay couldn't help but agree that it would be the perfect flower to describe you, other than yarrow of course.

"I- I want to." Jay whispered, his lips barely ghosting yours, his breath hitting your skin like a perfume. "Jay I-"

The feel of his lips on yours felt genuine this time, like a rose decorating a garden or a marigold completing every bouquet perfectly. His lips felt like first snow, like the first scent of a book, like a drunken kiss on New Year's night with a boy you knee you shouldn't.

"We can't." Jay pulled away, stroking your tear stained cheek with his soft hand, "I know, my yarrow, but we can't do this."

He stood up, and adjusted his collar, before swinging out the door.

"Let me go, one last time Y/N."

[banjjakz]

bleed for me; hananene 5+1 oneshot

He’s amassed whole lifetimes of bad habits, and never has one felt more grievous than the way his lifeless body threatens to rise again after Yashiro launches herself off of him in mortified realization of their compromising position. A bad habit, thinks Hanako, watching his roommate flee away as he barely resists the urge to give chase. Predator and prey. A body drained dry. I’d take good care of you.

(Or: Five times Hanako is painfully, embarrassingly obvious about being a vampire -- and the one time he doesn't even need to be.)

wc: ~6.7k

warnings: vampire!au; horror elements; disturbing themes; graphic descriptions of blood & ensuing oral consumption; etc, etc

🖤 read on ao3 🖤

1. Garlic Bread

“I’m home!”

From his lax recline on the bed, Hanako calls out a lazy welcome back. He doesn’t get up because he’s far too comfortable watching old primetime reruns of ridiculous game shows, and also -- well. 

He’s a little unhappy.

Ah, maybe not unhappy. That’s a rather strong word -- sensation? Feeling? For someone who’s felt a lot of them for a very long time, Hanako isn’t the most adept at categorizing his own emotions. Let alone experiencing them. It’s much more convenient to acknowledge that something probably important is sounding off in his chest, and then leave it alone to run its course. Hands-off is always the way to go. Less messy that way.

But then, he’s forced to deal with complex situations such as these:

The lovely, strange, absolutely enrapturing human being whose life he feels lucky enough to occupy even just a small, miniscule part of -- flouncing into his bedroom, all bright eyes and wide-lipped smiles and rosy cheeks and limbs jittering in excitement at seeing him after a mere handful of hours spent apart--

And Hanako, whose cold, dead heart threatens to jolt back to life at the mere sight of her.

How odd. He wonders what it means, and then immediately stops doing that. Hands-off. Mess free.

“Hanako-kun!” Greets Yashiro, rushing to stand at his side, her stockinged feet thump-thump-thumping at the hardwood in a rapid, red-blooded pulse. Her hair flows freely today, which is unusual. Normally, she has it pulled back and away from her face, in one neat platinum sphere at the base of her neck. There’s a decorative clip or three in there, somewhere, too.

Where are those tonight? What happened to the disturbingly skull-shaped barrette? He likes that one. “Hanako-kun, look! For you!”

Oh, she’s holding something. He hadn’t even noticed. Upon closer inspection, it seems to be…

“A greasy paper bag,” Hanako deadpans. “How kind of you, Yashiro.”

She rolls her eyes, and stomps her foot. He can see the vibrant red of her painted toenails even through those dark tights she insists on wearing out everyday. These are one of her nicer pairs, though. No rips or runs in sight. Not even when Hanako scans her legs up and down and up again, just to check. Just to make sure.

Yashiro’s irate scoff sends his eyes scrambling very rapidly back to meet her own. “You’re impossible. You gotta guess what’s in- side the bag, dummy.”

“Radishes. No, wait, we already have plenty of those on hand.”

“Oh my God, I am literally going to kill you. Do you wanna die?” Hanako almost laughs. “Last chance before I change my mind and don’t let you have any!”

“Ohhh. Something I can have?”

Yashiro nods. Hanako tracks the movement of her jaw like a vulture circling a corpse, freshly splayed open and vulnerable and tantalizing with how red the blood, how plump the flesh, how easy it would be to sink his talons in and bare his teeth and--

“I have no idea,” he muses, “what that would be, then.”

“You’re so weird sometimes, Hanako-kun. Anyways, remember how I went over to Kou-kun’s tonight? Because he needed a taste-tester for his school assignments? Remember?”

Ah, and here he returns to the root issue of tonight’s predicament. Hanako is swiftly delivered back into the strange sensation of discontent that plagued him mere moments prior to Yashiro’s arrival. She’d distracted him -- as she is so often does -- from his brooding. 

Hanako remembers that he’s supposed to be brooding.

Hanako begins to brood. 

It’s a pitiful attempt, really, because Yashiro is hellbent on injecting the evening with her unique brand of excitable fanfare, and Hanako has never been able to put up much of a fight against her. He’s weak to the sun and all it’s gifts of brightness, after all.

In a last-ditch effort to save face, he manages to pout. Yes, this will show her. This will express to her his deep-seated dissatisfaction! 

“Hmph. I guess,” sighs Hanako, batting his lashes for good measure.

“Oh quit it. Don’t look like such a jealous puppy--”

“-- Excuse me--”

“--Especially ‘cause I brought you such a good gift! Look!”

And then Yashiro reaches into the bag and pulls out a slice of greasy, buttery, deliciously succulent garlic bread.

Hanako doesn’t even have the time to process her accusation of jealousy (which, hello? A little absurd if you ask him.) as he’s preoccupied with scrambling backwards to the opposite side of the bed, as fast as what will hopefully appear to be humanly possible.

“Kou-kun’s in the middle of his global unit in school, and he chose to make some Italian dishes, so I thought I’d bring home-- hey!! Where are you going!” Yashiro, clearly perplexed, pauses in her bubbly explanation. “Don’t be like that! I know you don’t like Kou-kun for whatever stupid reason, but really? He made it just for you!”

Of course he did, thinks Hanako, scathingly. He will deal with that overgrown menace of a mutt later, when his physical body is not in imminent danger and Yashiro is not growing steadily closer, brandishing the bread as though it were a sword, or rapier.

Oh, if only she knew.

Normally, Hanako would be elated -- ecstatic, even -- to see Yashiro crawling across his mattress, chasing him with a dark intensity in her eyes and a palm outstretched. But the issue here is that her palm, as sweet-smelling and milky soft as it looks and probably feels (Hanako wouldn’t know), is currently wielding a weapon of mass destruction.

He tries to placate her, or at least slow her steady advance, but it’s all for naught. “H-Hey now, Yashiro--”

He should throw her off. She shouldn’t even be in his home in the first place, let alone in his bed, but somewhere along the way Hanako had started making inappropriate, foolish, misguided allowances for this strange woman, and then he… never stopped.

Honestly? For a mistake as silly as entertaining a human of all things, he supposes he should go out in an equally as embarrassing fashion: death by sliced bread.

Yashiro is on top of him now, her thick calves bracketing the bony jut of his hips as she sits on his chest and leans over him, her cheeks incensed a bright and healthy rouge -- a mere few shades darker than those glittering fuschia eyes. Hanako can’t help but wonder just how red she can get; how much red she has to spare. How much red would be enough to burst her open and leak along the sides of her pristinely pale canvas like spilled acrylic in one big, gory, spattering mess. 

For two (definitely, totally, absolutely) mutually exclusive reasons, Hanako feels his stomach contract.

“You’re being ridiculous,” announces Yashiro from her perch atop his body, blissfully unaware of the fact that Hanako could very easily toss her clean across the city if he so chose. 

(Or maybe, it’s the fact that might know, and is unafraid of the prospect. As though she believes he won’t. Humans are such an arrogant, fickle species. He can’t say that he particularly misses being amongst their ranks.)

“It’s bread. Would it kill you to be agreeable for once and just take a freaking bite?”

Her heartbeat. He can hear it loud and clear even as he lays underneath the vice grip of her sturdy legs. Does she even know how fast her pulse rams itself against her veins? Like it’s begging to be rescued from the confines of that pretty, porcelain cage? 

Fuck. Fuck.

Hands-off. 

Mess free. 

“I’m allergic,” says Hanako, slowly, face blank and clean as a slate as he stares unblinkingly back up at his captor. “To garlic.”

There’s a curtain of shimmering white that cascades around the two of them, shifting to block out any and all extraneous stimuli. He should remind her to pick up some more bleach the next time she takes a trip to Daiso. It’s time to touch-up her roots again.

“Allergic,” she parrots.

The way her lips shape around the word, tasting it and rolling it around in suspicion, is captivating. In all his years of dealings on this earth never has Hanako followed a journey so gripping, so intense, as the way that Yashiro Nene’s mouth moves across a sentence. “Allergic,” she says again, flat and faint.

He’s just barely able to nod. “Deathly.”

“You’re deathly allergic to garlic.”

Time grinds to a painful, halting stop. The gradual slowing of the outside world is so acute that Hanako can track with his eyes the moment that Yashiro’s gaze flickers down to his cracked lips and the steady in-and-out of her breath is all but frozen in place. It’s excruciating, the level of detail he’s been subjected to bear witness to as a creature borne of blood and misery. He hates that he can hear her lungs rattle in suspense. He hates that he can name each muscle that goes still and locks solidly into place, anchoring around him in a rigid, tense embrace. He hates that he can smell her fear.

“Precisely. And you are straddling me. Are we done stating facts or would you like to continue on, Yashiro?”

It’s a bad habit he has, relying on humorous deflection. He’s amassed whole lifetimes of bad habits, and never has one felt more grievous than the way his lifeless body threatens to rise again after Yashiro launches herself off of him in mortified realization of their compromising position. A bad habit, thinks Hanako, watching his roommate flee away as he barely resists the urge to give chase. Predator and prey. A body drained dry. I’d take good care of you.

The crumbs in his bed dig into his skin and burn there, serving as a very stark, very physical reminder of his worst habit.

He’s already served his penance. Is currently serving it. Is slated to serve it for the rest of whatever conceivable eternity awaits him. 

So why, then, does his chest twist and ache with an ardor he thought had died with him, all that time ago? 

2. Reflection

The only reason he’d agreed to tag along was because Yashiro promised him that he didn’t have to speak if he didn’t want to. He isn’t much inclined to converse with random humans -- especially not over cheap, young wine. 

But this is, of course, exactly what he finds himself doing on a Thursday evening he would otherwise spend alone, holed up in his room, with his blackout curtains drawn to the side to bask in the glow of the full moon. Longingly, Hanako glances out of the large window he’d surreptitiously made a home next to immediately upon their arrival. Ah, well. Next month.

A round of boisterous laughter startles him out of his reverie. He chances a glance back to the sectional sofa in front of him and is greeted by the sight of Yashiro nearly doubled over in apparent amusement, wine glass tipping dangerously to the wayside. Her cheeks are speckled with the beginnings of a youthful pink. Unshed tears cling to her thin eyelashes. When she straightens up to catch her breath, she meets his gaze and allows her grin to melt into something soft and warm and entirely unsuited for the terrible, awful things that run through Hanako’s mind faster than the speed of light.

Having fun? She mouths discreetly, bringing the glass up to take another sip.

He nods, draining the red in his own grasp long and slow. It tastes like ash on his tongue. 

One of the other humans speaks, then. It isn’t the orange haired fellow who’d immediately struck Hanako as a sniveling, blindsided, spineless fool of a man -- no, it’s his wife, who’s entirely too preoccupied with asking questions about Hanako’s personal life for his comfort. 

“Hanako-san,” she begins pleasantly, gripping the wine bottle by the neck as she tops off his glass. Unprompted. “I’ve been wondering about something! Nene-chan is an Insta-freak, you know, right?” A what? “But you’re never on her page,” she continues with a pout, “And you aren’t tagged in any photos. Are you shy? That’s adorable!”

How can a woman speak so politely with eyes as cold as hers? They glitter at him underneath the fluorescent lighting of the living area, small and hard and blindingly bright, a twin set of enchantingly haunted jewels. Delicately, she tastes at the rim of her glass, and says nothing else.

Before he can conjure up a response that isn’t mood-killing and really little more than a thinly veiled threat, Yashiro pipes up. “Hanako-kun’s super off-grid!” She stresses, eyes wide, words comically over exaggerated as though she is delivering information of the utmost importance. “He has a very troubled childhood! He doesn’t like talking about it! So that’s why!”

“A troubled childhood,” muses the purple haired menace.

Yashiro nods solemnly, gulping another hit of her dry white. “Yeah! He’s got a bunch of weird allergies, too. Did you know that he can’t eat garlic? Not even garlic bread? Isn’t that so sad!”

“...Indeed it is. My condolences, Hanako-san.”

Right.

The evening doesn’t really improve from there, apart from Yashiro falling into his side after she gets a bit too wine drunk. Hanako can smell more than just the saccharine perfume she slathers on all the time; no, from this close, Hanako inhales and internalizes the scent of a robust, earthy musk, far richer than anything spritzed or patted superficially into the skin. Hanako can smell underneath her skin. Hell, Hanako can practically see -- can practically taste the delicacies hidden there, with how firmly she leans onto him. Would she still feel comfortable holding clutching onto his arm, if she knew the kinds of things he thinks about her? About doing to her?

They say good night to the amethyst wench and her sad excuse of a clueless human husband not long after that. The apartment isn’t far away and it’s too late to stumble into the car of a subway, so the pair of them trek home on foot.

A quiet night. The moon is as full as she is healing, and Hanako returns to himself a little bit more underneath her watchful, healing gaze.

“Now that I think about it… we really don’t have any pictures together.”

Although Yashiro has sobered up enough to stand straight, she still maintains a loose grasp on his arm. Her fingernails curl into the sleeve of his button down, a splash of bright, vivid red disappearing in the deep dark of a moonless night. Swallowed right up without a second thought. “Is it… is it because you’re embarrassed, Hanako-kun? Of, um… well. Do you not want to be seen with me? I’m sorry…”

He could break his own neck. He should. He would, if she asked him to.

“You own a Polaroid camera, yes?”

“Ah! You mean my Hello Kitty one? Uh-huh! Why?”

“When we return home,” Hanako says, like a fool, “We can take a picture.”

If he were a defendable creature, he’d point to Yashiro’s sudden and swift ascent into excitement as the justification for the latest manifestation of his long, long list of bad habits. Her strong ankles defy gravity and carry her as she floats on air, giggling as she skips the whole way home. Even as they make their way through the front door. Even as she must root around in her cluttered bedroom (that Hanako cannot follow her into, for obvious reasons). Even as she struggles to remember how to change the film, and inputs a decorative mascot-inspired roll, nicking more than a few of her pale, slender fingers in the process.

Even as she wades through darkness, Yashiro is so bright. 

The actual photo itself requires some set-up which eventually results in Hanako reversing the contraption unto them and pressing down on what he’s only halfway sure is the capture button. He assumes that he’s done well when a thin strip of glossy paper leaks out from the bottom and Yashiro swipes at it in a giddy stupor, remnants of the Riesling from earlier that evening rendering her sloppy and uncoordinated. 

“‘Kay, it’s gotta develop now… should only be a few more seconds! Will you keep it safe tonight? ‘M sooooo tired, and I really gotta shower before I pass out…”

Yashiro is already stumbling away, back towards her bedroom. She slips the rapidly lightening square in his palm as she slips back, lingering for one moment too long against the doorframe.

“Thanks, Hanako-kun. G’night.”

And then she is gone.

Which is probably for the best. The film has finally pulled itself from the murky depths of ambiguity. Hanako looks down at the picture in his palm and Yashiro stares back at him: her bold, red lips and silver-spun hair are two twin beacons of color, misplaced and incongruent within the impenetrable sea of blackness surrounding her. 

Where Hanako should have been instead lies a lapse in composition. The photograph is blank and undeveloped around his general silhouette. But that is not the strangest thing about the photograph.

The strangest thing is howYashiro leans into the darkness, unafraid of the way it spindles into her own boisterous portrait and slowly eats at the brightly hued pigments of her warm flesh, her pretty, frilly dress, her smile. That unerringly loud, human smile.

How long will it take, he wonders, before the shot is entirely eclipsed by that cold, dead void.

3. Sunlight

It’s a bad day before he even opens his eyes.

As a creature of indeterminate longevity and supernatural capabilities, sleep is not the necessity it once was for him. But he indulges, from time to time, when there’s little to do during the daylight hours. After all, he’s confined to his bedroom from sunrise until sunset. Pacing the perimeter of a lion’s cage grows tiresome, even to eternally patient apex predators such as himself. Much easier to force his body to shut down and pass the time for him, as his consciousness wanders aimlessly through the realm of a deep, dreamless slumber.

This day is not one of those days. This day is the peak of Summer’s cruel, tyrannical reign. This day is suffocating. This day is warm. This day is bright. 

This day maneuvers above and below and all around the blackout curtains that are always painstakingly drawn over his windows. This day leaks into his bedroom and weasels its way into his sheets, underneath his skin, scorching him from the inside out with such a ferocity that it renders him immobile. Every fiber of his being threatens to splice into terrifying, meaningless oblivion. 

When Yashiro first asked, Hanako told her it was migraines.

It was a vague excuse that pinpointed some rare, untreatable immune-disease that left him inexplicably weak to sunlight. Yashiro really should have been more persistent in hunting down the real truth -- the actual truth -- especially considering her occupation as an urgent clinic nurse. He considers the idea that it’s an answer she doesn’t care enough to unearth. He mulls over the alternative, which is that she is too frightened by whatever she may find to go searching for it in the first place. He then decides he’s done thinking about her. Today is torture enough.

A gentle knock at his door renders all of his efforts fruitless, however. “Hanako-kun?” Her voice filters easily through the heavy fog clouding his awareness, like a blade through slackened flesh. “You okay?”

She’s still standing hesitantly in his doorway, as though waiting for permission to enter. He’d laugh if it didn’t hurt so badly to do anything other than lay still and flat as a corpse.

He can’t afford to expend any unnecessary effort lest he wear himself out completely, so he goes for the most direct course of action:

Snakes his arm out of the big, black ball of sheets and comforter in which he’s coffined himself inside. Holds back a curse as he’s made aware of just how weak he’s become. Struggles not to drop his cellular phone when he finally manages to blindly locate it. Unplugs the device single handedly with tremorous fingers. Holds it out to the open air.

“Take this,” says Hanako, voice dim and tepid. “Dial the contact ‘Tsukasa.’ Give him this address.”

Not for the first time, Hanako realizes that he should be grateful for this human’s absence of curiosity. He has amassed plenty of bad habits in the past, all of them metastasizing entirely too close for comfort until he’d been forced to handle them in a way that had been entirely hands-on and the very opposite of mess-free. For Yashiro to wordlessly collect the cellular phone from his trembling grasp and do as she’s told is what he’d call a blessing, if he still believed in feats as fickle as faith. 

She is confused as she makes the phonecall. Hanako can hear the shift of her hair sliding past one shoulder as she tilts her head. He can feel the way her chest flutters in a muted gasp of surprise when the line connects after the first ring. She can’t be more than three or four feet away. Close enough for him to reach out and brush, with the pitifully pale pads of his fingertips. What a sight that would paint, muses Hanako, deliriously. Icarus and his glittering, lethal lover.

Time ebbs and flows and bends and breaks after that. He’s distantly aware that he drops in and out of consciousness. The hot wax slathering each of his limbs is an imagined thing, he’s sure, as is the sensation of free-falling to an anticipated, blunt death. These sensations are from the dreamscape that pulls him beneath its suffocating depths only to release him at the last second, in a cruel imitation of the sea and all her unfathomable terror. 

(He has not dreamt in so very, very long. It’s a bad habit.)

The final time he breaks the surface, he surges up against something -- cold. The kind of cold that forces his own to bow its head. The kind of cold that relieves him of his fever, and sends a violent chill through his body, all at once. The kind of cold one should only absorb in small doses, with limited contact. A once-in-every-three-decades kind of cold. That kind of cold.

“Hi, Amane! You look terrible!”

Tsukasa’s hand on his forehead is frigid enough that it loops back into the realm of burning. Hanako must gently bat it away and blink blearily up at the sight of his twin brother, just as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as he always was. Always is.

“Hi, Tsu.”

“Hold still, ‘kay? I brought the bendy straws you like. All you gotta do is sip. Open wide!”

Obediently, Hanako parts his lips and accepts the flimsy piece of plastic. 

He tries not to think about what, exactly, it is that he’s doing. If he closes his eyes and holds his breath, Hanako can almost pretend that he’s being fed by different hands, in a different world, as a different person. 

“Hey, Amane?”

Gulp, shudder. Resist the instinctive gag that claws its way up his throat like a beast bending the bars of its cage. “Yeah, Tsu?”

“Why are you starving yourself?”

Eyes closed. Mouth shut. Another swallow. Hands-off. Mess free.

“You have food right there,” Tsukasa whispers. “Is there something wrong with her? Is she sick? Y’know, I’m not picky. If you don’t want her, I can--”

Hanako, with newfound strength, launches upright into a sitting position. What wonders a couple of mouthfuls can do. 

Oh, how to explain this. Oh, how to navigate his way through an intersection of muddled implications and unspoken subtleties, all of which will go right over Tsukasa’s head. How can Hanako pretend to be a creature of innuendo and self-control, when his biggest, most glaring lapse in judgement sits across from him in the damned den of his own design?

He struggles for a moment, running a tired hand down his face. “Yashiro is a -- friend.”

“A friend?”

“Yes,” confirms Hanako, desperately avoiding Tsukasa’s curious gaze. “And friends don’t eat friends.”

The words are slimy and leave a bad taste in his mouth. Well. Maybe the words themselves aren’t what lingers at the back of his tongue and stains his teeth. But they are odious, nonetheless, and hang in the air like empty nooses dripping down from a gallows.

“Friends don’t let friends starve,” is Tsukasa’s counterpoint. “If it were me, Amane, I’d let you. Even though you already did, I’d let you do it again. I’d always let you.”

Hanako has never understood why Tsukasa refuses to cover up the twin bite marks that marr his jugular. Is it to punish him? Is it not punishment enough, that Hanako has to see his face at all? 

When his brother grins at him, it cuts like a knife. Hanako remembers a time where those cheeks stretched wider, when those eyes glistened with something other than black ice. Tsukasa plucks the bendy straw out of the cup and drinks straight from the rim, tossing his head back to give Hanako full view of the way his throat opens and closes around the infernal contents. 

He can’t stop staring at the scars: two lone stars fixed in an empty, pallid, apocalyptic sky.

The younger boy is sated only when the cup has been drained dry -- and even then, he pants, exhilarated, pupils blown large and dangerously obsidian as they flitter back and forth as though in search of more, more, more. 

Why are you starving yourself?

He’d always been a messy eater. His baby brother, Tsukasa. Tsukasa who loved Katanuki. Tsukasa who loved to paint. Tsukasa who still loves to paint, but now works solely in abstract monochrome. Tsukasa, who paints himself over and over and over again until he’s dripping, covered head-to-toe in a masterpiece of his own design. Tsukasa, who licks his canvas clean at the end of each night only to start anew in tomorrow’s dangerous twilight dusk. Tsukasa, who collects victims like portraits.

Tsukasa, who had once been a portrait himself. Hanako, who held the brush in his hands and created something freakishly beautiful that wretched, awful night.

Why are you starving yourself?

He feels full enough, watching Tsukasa pass his tongue over his chops. He feels like he’ll never need to eat again.

By the time his brother makes his departure, the sun has long since sunk beneath the horizon. Hanako’s room is once again as it should be: a thick, inky fog of opaque black. It’s so dark, in fact, that had he not been what he is, he would never have spotted the slight gap between his door and its frame, where a slender figure lingers in apprehensive wait.

Yashiro is checking on him, he realizes belatedly. 

Why are you starving yourself?

“Good night,” She calls, softly. “I’m about to head out for a double.”

“Be safe.”

“‘Course! I always am… I hope you feel better soon, Hanako-kun.”

He couldn’t have this if he ate like an animal. He couldn’t have Yashiro -- sweet, gentle, lovely Yashiro -- living alongside him as he devoured bodies made in her image. Already, Hanako struggles with what his baser instincts urge him towards… to give into those temptations would be putting her in danger. 

His door clicks quietly shut. His room is bathed in the cover of night once more.

Left alone to his own devices, the beat begins to roam its cage. A growl sounds, low and deep and mortally wounded. Not from his throat -- but from the very pit of his stomach.

Resistance is one thing, but ignorance, however feigned, is quickly ruled out of the realm of his personal possibility. There is no disregarding the sensations that fester inside of him. There is no course for his desires to run. There is only the ugly, maddening truth:

Hanako is hungry.

Hanako needs to put his hands on something.

Hanako needs to make a mess.

4. Silver

“Promise rings!”

“... Excuse me?”

“N-Not in a weird way, or anything like that!” Stutters Yashiro, fumbling with the miniature wooden box in her shaking, manicured grasp. “They’re just little cheap ones. I saw them on display at the mall, and I couldn’t just not… plus, do you even know what day it is?”

Hanako raises a brow. “Enlighten me.”

“It’s our six-months-as-roommates-a-versary!”

“Wow.”

“I’m really happy you recognize the importance here, Hanako-kun. Now stick out your hand so I can put yours on! And then you do me!”

If he didn’t know any better, Hanako would wonder how Yashiro gets anything done with those delicate fingers of hers. They’re as soft-looking and malleable and enticingly peachy as the rest of her, topped off at their gracefully tapered ends with a neat coat of ruby red. They dance along everything they touch, nimble little ballerinas hopping from pose to pose, commanding rapt attention wherever they leap. 

As his own hand raises to meet hers, he must fight the urge to clench into an ugly, defensive fist. 

The first touch sends something like electricity ricocheting down his spine like lightning through a weather vane. She is so gentle. How can she be so gentle? How can she be so round-edged and rosy-cheeked and expect him to just stand here, wordlessly, with nothing to do or say about it? How can she live in his house for six months and celebrate, rather than mourn? How can she look at him, a creature innate to unsightly presence and habit, and say to herself: this is something worthy of care.

The second touch is just as unnerving, but for all the wrong reasons.

“I thought you said this was cheap,” grits Hanako, exhaling sharply through his nose as the silver ring slides slow and meticulously down the length of his finger. 

Yashiro pauses, eyes narrowed. “Is it not? How can you even tell?”

“A-allergic… !”

To her credit, she’s properly mortified. Yashiro almost falls all over herself  to wrench the offending piece of jewelry off and away, apologizing profusely as she studies the burn wound on his middle finger. Her mouth twists into a tense little knot. Hanako wants to smooth it out.

Instead, he follows her obediently into her bathroom after she tells him to come inside and sit his ass down on the toilet -- which he does, sheepishly.

“I can’t believe -- oh, God, I’m so sorry, Hanako-kun… Just, hold still okay? It’s only gonna hurt a little, I promise.”

It’s an injury that would’ve long since healed itself by now, if he were in any other state than the one he currently occupies; which is to say that he’s rather unhealthy. Which is to say that the rats and possums and other small rodents he guiltily entraps in the alley behind the house do nothing besides sate a momentary desire. Which is to say that it is impossibly difficult to keep himself aware and conscious and disciplined enough not to careen head-first into Yashiro’s exposed clavicle and unhinge his jaw and feel his skull shift to accommodate the extra layer of fangs and sink his claws into her perfect, supple hips and feel her go paralyzed with terror as he--

“Okay! All done. Do you feel better now?”

“Yes.” It’s a pretty bandage. Pink and bright with tiny dancing radishes along the perimeter.

“I really am sorry,” mumbles Yashiro, encasing his frigid hands with her own, squeezing and rubbing with her soft thumbs. “I don’t ever want to hurt you. You’ve always -- you’re always so kind to me, all the time, and it just seems like… well, I don’t know. Lately I feel like I just never know how to help you, Hanako-kun. I feel like I just make things… worse. So can you promise me something?”

“Anything,” says Hanako, unblinkingly, because blinking is a sign of dishonesty.

“You have to tell me when you need something. Or when you don’t need something. Or when you -- uh, well, I really want you to be honest with me. Okay? Can you promise me that? Because it makes me really sad that you struggle with… a lot, and there’s not so much I know about how to help. So, please? Do you promise? To be honest?”

“I promise,” says Hanako, unblinkingly, because blinking is a sign of dishonestly and also because he can’t close his eyes without seeing her body splayed out in the bathtub behind her, limbs limp and gore overflowing past the rim and into his eagerly awaiting mouth. In this fantasy, he uses his tongue to follow the carmine droplets bulleting down the porcelain edge, licking and slurping until he reaches the source of the mess, the heart of the storm, the original inspiration to all his reverence. He would take his time. 

(Or would he lose himself? Would it be hands-on? Would it be messy?)

“Thank you for trusting me. I trust you… with my life, you know. Maybe it’s naive, but I hope one day you could do the same.”

He can’t touch her, not right now, even though she looks like she’s about to shake apart at the seams. All Hanako can do is watch from a safe distance, and wonder. And want. And ache.

As always.

5. Blood

She comes home early.

Hanako has only just padded his way into the kitchen when he hears the front door unlock. Is it that time, already? No, it can’t be. Yashiro usually arrives when he is just settling in to go back to sleep. She brings with her the pale light of a budding dawn, and although Hanako regrets their sparse interactions and conflicting schedules, he’d rather not disintegrate into a pile of ashes atop the living room couch just because he felt like saying welcome home, honey.

Tonight is different, apparently. A cursory glance thrown over to the microwave clock reveals that it’s only a few minutes past the witching hour. And despite there being a total absence of sunlight when Yashiro opens the door, Hanako still falls to his knees in a sudden onslaught of unadulterated agony.

His vision turns spotty, only worsening as Yashiro rushes inside and screams at the sight of his crumpled body. “Hanako-kun? Oh my God! Oh my God, can you hear me?”

Barely, is what he wants to say, but can’t. His throat is too tight, too dry. His mouth begins to salivate at an alarmingly disgusting rate. 

That smell.

Pathetically, he crawls over to her on his hands and knees, body running on autopilot as it drives him towards the source. Hanako can feel his body shift and transform with the pavlovian response he’s developed over the decades -- an instinct borne out of the memory of a chase, of a hunt,of warm flesh twisting and stretching and tearing underneath his capable grasp, of muffled screams and kicking legs and the eventual, gradual descent into permanent stillness, of hands scrabbling desperately into dirt, into pavement, into carpet, as they scream his name and beg him -- no -- no, stop -- what are you -- Hanako-san--!

Blood. But, not just any kind of blood. 

Fresh, human blood.

Six months is a very, very long time to go without food.

The scent wafts from the messenger bag thrown haphazardly over Yashiro’s shoulder. Hanako claws weakly at it, burying his nose into the worn fabric and moaning in relief at the contact. 

“Fuck,” he sighs, breathy. The debauched soundtrack of his own muffled desperation would embarrass him, probably, if he were cognizant of anything other than the metallic tang filling his nostrils.

The last thing he remembers is Yashiro running her fingers through his hair, shushing him quietly. 

And then it all fades to black.

“Oh, Good. You’re awake!”

Hanako gets about halfway through a sarcastic reply before something is shoved past his lips. Something… familiar. Something -- bendy?

“Drink up,” huffs Yashiro, pushing the straw more firmly into his mouth. “You’re lucky we had a contaminated batch of bags today. I-it’s still safe to drink, though! Or at least… I hope… tell me if it tastes funny, okay? Jeez, Hanako-kun… I didn’t know you were so hungry! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?

His lack of a response only propels her onward. 

“Well… I know you don’t like to talk about it… I’m sorry if this is making you uncomfortable, but I couldn’t just sit and watch you waste away--”

“You knew?”

“... Um. Was I not supposed to know?”

“You knew,” Hanako repeats numbly around the plastic in his mouth, dumbfounded. “This whole time, you knew.”

Unimpressed, Yashiro raises an eyebrow. “That you’re a vampire? Duh. Allergic to garlic? And silver? And sunlight? I’m not stupid, and you aren’t nearly as slick as you think you are, mister.”

 The chuckle she gives after this quickly peters off into something more melancholy, a little bit darker in origin. From where she’s perched on the couch, leaning above him to adjust the straw’s positioning into the medical packet on his chest, Hanako can see the sorrow, there, in her big, doe-like eyes. 

“You never brought it up… and I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries! I’ve never, erm, done ‘this’ before… if you couldn’t already tell. But since you never said anything… I just thought that, I don’t know? Maybe my blood wasn’t good enough to drink, or something like tha--”

“That is absolutely not the case.” 

He’s quick to cut her off. Too quick. “Far from it, really,” he attempts to joke in an effort to lessen the intensity of the blow, but the damage has already been done. Yashiro’s hand freezes around the blood bag, her eyes flitting up to lock onto his own. 

It’s unfairly attractive, the way her blush blossoms across her face. Hanako takes a long drag from the straw and swallows, never breaking his stare.

“I would… definitely be okay. More than okay. With doing -- ahem. That.”

“Drinking,” supplies Nene, so quietly that Hanako reads her lips more than he hears the charged word spill from her pink, glistening tongue. “You’d drink from me?”

What a question. Oh, if only she knew.

“Sure,” he hums, easily, “as long as you promise not to bring home anymore garlic bread. Especially not from that mangy mutt.”

“Hey, that isn’t very nice! Kou-kun isn’t… wait. You’re… you don’t mean…?”

“Yep.”

“Oh my god. That’s why you don’t like him!”

“His pack leader really, really hates me. Heh.”

“You know, you probably shouldn’t look so pleased about that.” She says, with a fond smile. Hanako wants to taste it. 

On his next sip, he’s met with an ugly slurping sound. Normally, the fact that he’d sucked down a pint of blood in less than five minutes would be cause for concern. But his circumstances are not normal. His circumstances haven’t been normal for quite a good while, really, and Hanako can’t bring himself to think about it too hard. Not when his worst bad habit is within arms’ reach; not when she’s digging into her bag and procuring another packet of blood for him to puncture with the blunt end of his straw.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, awestruck.

“And I’ve got seven more where that came from! So just take your time, okay? No rush. I’ll stay here and make sure you get your fill… I promise.”

Hanako thinks he will hold her to that.

+1: Feeding

This is nothing like the first time, which is what he’d originally been terrified of. This is nothing like the second, or third, or fourth or fiftieth or hundredth time.

(How could it be? How could having her pliant and wanton underneath his capable grasp be anything other than pure ecstasy?)

Before he takes the plunge, he -- has to warn her. Again. Just in case she’s changed her mind. “Last chance,” Hanako breathes into the fleshy meat of her, the aroma of pumping blood doing unspeakable things to his mind. “This is your last chance to back out, Yashiro.”

She’s pretty as a portrait, the way she shifts and wriggles underneath his body reminiscent of the melding of a varied color palette coming together in one grand, epic composition. 

But he’s about to stain her in monochrome. 

“Don’t be gentle,” Yashiro gasps, dragging his hands to hold her down. “I’m not afraid o-of a little mess.”

You should have been, thinks Hanako, mournfully, as he paints his first stroke of bright, brilliant red.

[melisusthewee]

hap fri!!!! i'd love to see 'The smell of freshly baked bread' for Morris x Quinn 🥺

I think I might have been a bit loose in my interpretation of this prompt, but I am very happy with how this turned out and had a lot of fun writing it!

Sour Dough Pairing: Inquisitor Quinn Trevelyan/Ser Horatio Morris Word Count: 3,169 words Rating: G for @dadrunkwriting

Quinn Trevelyan had started to like mornings in the countryside.  The bedroom had no windows which he found to be a bit oppressive, but it made the room nice and dark and Quinn found that slowly over time he had begun to sleep better for it.

It certainly helped that he never had any true responsibilities in the country.  There were no meetings to get up for, no expected appearances, and no servants knocking on his door or letting themselves into his quarters to serve him tea and breakfast.

Well… perhaps he missed the tea and breakfast part.  Morris never put together any tea trays for him, but then Morris usually left in the mornings and Quinn liked to sleep in so there wasn't much of a point to it.  Morris would get up with the sun and putter about quietly in his kitchen before going out to check on his animals.  Then - if the weather seemed promising - he would leave for the nearest village and Quinn would promptly stretch out in the bed, happy he could finally now enjoy all to himself.

With Morris gone, Quinn could gather up both pillows just the way he liked it.  He didn't feel cramped.  He didn't have to share the blankets.  The bed was not made for two people, but it was all that Morris had and Quinn had not yet decided how to broach the subject of needing a bigger bed, a bigger room, and perhaps even a bigger house.  He wasn't certain he wasn't still just a guest here, and he liked it in the country and he liked it even more with Morris so he chose not to press his luck.

If Morris walked to the village, it would take him about an hour.  He would stop at the baker's and pick up a loaf of fresh bread, and then depending on the weather and how amicable he felt, he'd either turn around and come home or he'd be gone for nearly the entire morning.  The longer he was gone, the greater the chance he returned with something interesting - pastries today instead of just bread; the blackberry jam that Quinn liked so much; a bouquet of flowers just because.  And Quinn would spend the time alone resting and enjoying sleep that was slowly coming easier to him.

Except today something was off.  Quinn had been vaguely aware of Morris rising like usual and had rolled over and gone right back to sleep himself - just as usual.  But some time later - he had no idea what time it was, just that it seemed like it ought to still be morning - he was woken up by what he thought smelled like smoke and burnt toast.  At his feet lay his dog with her paw over her snout as if to say she could smell it too and did not like it.  But Quinn was not as calm, out of bed and on his feet in an instant.

"What sort of dog does nothing while the house is burning!"

But as he burst out of the bedroom into the main room of the cottage and stood there in nothing except what the Maker had given him, he could see that the cottage did not appear to be on fire at all.  Not yet, at least.

Morris had not gone to the village.  He was instead seated at his kitchen table, looking miserable and forlorn until Quinn's appearance caused him to instead appear quite confused.  "Are you all right, Trevelyan?"

"Are you?"

Horatio Morris' dark hair had in recent years begun to show signs of greying.  It was most evident in his beard which had started to become speckled with bits of silvery-white, but he had also sprouted a few lonely wisps of silvery hair hidden among his dark brown curls.  But the man Quinn found himself looking at right now was very grey, like someone had tossed him about in powder.  His hair looked dusty and nearly white, with patches of the same white powder smeared across his cheeks, his nose, across the painter's smock he had decided to put on that morning, and up his forearms nearly to his elbows.

"I was making bread," Morris said quietly.

That explained the smell that had roused Quinn from his sleep.  The cottage wasn't on fire, but Morris had given it a very good try.

There was flour everywhere.  Lumps of what Quinn assumed must be dough had been stacked in different places on the table.  Each clump looked unique - some seemed exceptionally wet, and others phenomenally lumpy.  A glass jar was tipped over on its side and Quinn wasn't entirely unconvinced that its contents weren't alive and trying to crawl out and across the table.  There were eggshells all over the floor which left Quinn confused because as much as he was wholly inept in the kitchen, he was pretty certain that eggs were not an ingredient in bread.

Quinn walked over to the table, careful to avoid stepping on any of the mess underfoot, and inspected the nearest ball of dough.  He picked it up, trying not to grimace at the texture of it.

"Well…" he said slowly after he had dropped the dough back onto the table with a wet plop, "I'm sure it will look different once it rises."

Morris' already deflated face fell further.  He buried his face in his flour-covered hands, sending up a soft white cloud and a forlorn-sounding moan.  When Quinn did not say anything, Morris - in the perfect picture of a tortured artist - gestured off towards the side.

Of course, thought Quinn, he had smelled something burning.

A wooden board sat near the open window and on it sat what Quinn assumed were supposed to be finished loaves of bread.  The words "loaves" and "bread" were quite generous though as what had been set out were rather deflated, unevenly blackened, and very misshapen.

"Have you tried cutting out the burnt bits?" asked Quinn, trying to be helpful.

Morris looked up, giving him a dirty look.  Clearly, Morris had checked and there were no unburnt bits aside from the soggy dough gathered on the table in front of him.

"I didn't realize you were an expert baker," said Morris petulantly.

Quinn laughed - not at Morris and his predicament, but at the silliness of the idea.  "Don't get cheeky with me, Horatio, you know if I'd done this I very well would have succeeded at burning down your house."

That got Morris' expression to soften a little though there was still a rather morose feel to his gaze.  “I don't understand what I did wrong… it's just flour, water, and yeast…”

Quinn did his best to brush away the flour that coated the nearby seat, but decided it did not seem clean enough for him to settle his bare cheeks on and instead moved to absently draw a line through the flour dust that littered the table.

“Maybe you didn't pray enough,” he said with a nonchalant shrug.

Morris stared at Quinn blankly.  It was evident from the vacant stare that he did not have the slightest inclination what Quinn was going on about, but with someone known as the Herald of Andraste suggesting he pray harder, he wasn't entirely sure how serious Quinn was right now.

So Quinn explained.  “Back home, the women in the kitchens used to sing parts of the Chant whenever they were waiting for the dough to rise.”

Morris ran a hand through his hair, sending up a cloud of flour.  “You're saying my bread didn't turn out because I didn't ask the Maker to leaven it…?”

“No, Horace, I'm not that daft,” said Quinn.  “But parts of the Chant are pretty long.  It takes the Sisters in the Grand Cathedral an entire year to sing it from beginning to end.  Maybe your dough hasn't sat long enough.”

“Well how long is it supposed to sit for?”

“Don't ask me.  I'm not a baker.”

Morris groaned in despair and put his head down, burying his face in the arms he'd folded on the table.  Quinn frowned.  It was only bread.  It shouldn't be the end of the world.  So what if Morris couldn't bake?  Neither could Quinn and it didn't bother him one bit.  Besides, there were plenty of things Morris was good at on his own.  It shouldn't be a big deal that this wasn't one of them.

Quinn knew better than to tell Morris this when he was in one of his artist's melancholy - for it certainly seemed like one of those to Quinn.  So instead Quinn walked over to the hearth and retrieved the little pot that Morris had attempted to bake in.  Hefting it in one arm, he walked back over to where Morris still sat with his head down, and placed the pot on the table.  Quinn then quietly began to pick up the lumps of dough that Morris had abandoned and placed them in the pot one by one.  Once finished with his patchwork assembly of dough, Quinn retrieved the discarded lid and placed it so the offending concoction was properly covered.

Clearing his throat to get Morris’ attention, Quinn slid the pot across the table.

“Maybe,” said Quinn slowly, “you wash all that flour out of your hair, I find myself some clothes, and we go get some proper bread in the village.  And perhaps when we return, enough time will have passed that the thing in here has become something bread-like.”

Morris looked up and over at the pot Quinn had slid in front of him.  His expression was still dark and moody, but as his focus shifted from the results of his failed labour to Quinn - who was still quite naked and beginning to feel a bit awkward about it - the barest hint of a smile ghosted across his face.

“You want to walk to the village with me?” he asked shyly.

“I suppose so, yes.”

The significance of the gesture was not lost on Morris, whose face already seemed a little brighter as he abandoned his kitchen mess to go clean himself up.  Quinn didn't really go out much and tended to avoid anywhere with people.  It was too difficult now that he was so easily recognizable and so Quinn's world had mostly become the boundaries of Morris’ property - which was plenty of land and space, but very quiet and empty.  The nearest village wasn't very big, but it was still a village, and that meant Quinn would have to perform his role as Herald if he was recognized - a role he didn't really believe in much anymore.

But, Quinn reasoned, it would be time with Morris and that was always time well spent.  It would cheer him up, and while he was not certain he was ready to admit it to anyone, making Morris happy was important to him.  It felt… good whenever he saw the man smile, and the bright look in Morris’ eyes whenever he glanced at Quinn made him feel warm, flustered, and twenty years younger.

It took the better part of an hour for the two of them to get themselves in a presentable order.  Quinn was just exiting the barn with his horse when Morris emerged from the cottage, his hair still damp from washing but back to its normal dark colour punctuated with only the usual bits of grey.

When Morris caught sight of Quinn and the freshly saddled horse, he paused, hands on his hips and looking a little confused.  “I thought we were walking.”

“You can if you'd like.  But I've walked across most of Thedas.  I much prefer to have my horse do most of the journey for me.”  Quinn patted the flank of the mare affectionately.  “Besides!  She's got saddlebags!  And you're not going to tell me I went through all the effort of saddling her for nothing.”

“You should have let me take care of that,” Morris said, moving to take the reins from Quinn.

“She's my horse,” Quinn insisted, “and I got here well enough on my own.  I don't need help.”

He looked at Morris pointedly.  He knew the man had good intentions and he was getting better at asking first instead of just assuming Quinn needed help, but it was still difficult not to get irritated or offended when Morris seemed to constantly ask about doing the same things again and again.  There were things Quinn was perhaps slower at with only one hand but perfectly capable of doing in the end.  Looking after his horse was one of them.

Be nice, he reminded himself.  Today was now about cheering Morris up, not picking petty fights.  So he held his tongue, handed Morris the reins, but hefted himself up into the saddle unassisted.

To his credit, Morris took the slight edge of Quinn's pettiness in stride.  “But you're going to make me saddle my own horse?”

Quinn leaned forward in his saddle and grinned.  “I thought you wanted to walk.”

“You are an ass, Quinn Trevelyan.”

But there was no barb to the insult and the familiar threat of laughter could be heard in Morris’ voice.  Quinn chuckled quietly and held out his hand for the reins.  Morris obliged, but before he could head to the barn to retrieve his own horse, Quinn wrapped the reins around the horn of his saddle and then held out his hand a second time.  Morris looked at him rather perplexed, but Quinn was insistent with the gesture.

“Theia can handle the two of us.”

Morris hesitated.  He seemed to be sizing up both the horse as well as the saddle.  There also appeared to be another debate going on inside his head, judging from the way his brows creased.  Quinn had learned that to his surprise Morris had kept a lot of parts of himself held very close to his chest and away from anyone's business.  He had his own reasons that Quinn admittedly didn't understand but his friendship with one Dorian Pavus had made him realize that it wasn't something he could fix for him and could only be supportive in whichever way the other person wanted him to be.

Two men on a horse wasn't anything odd.  It wasn't anything to second guess or think about.  And even if someone did, it was exactly what it looked like so what did it matter?  But Quinn knew he couldn't push Morris out into a world he wasn't ready for, not this time.  All he could do was just keep offering his hand and hope that one day Morris might be brave enough to take it.

Today turned out to be that day and when Morris suddenly grabbed Quinn's hand, Quinn nearly lost his balance in surprise.  But he recovered quickly, gripping Morris’ hand firmly and smiling broadly as the other man took the invitation and hoisted himself up into the space behind Quinn.

“All right?” Quinn asked, after he had shifted forward in the saddle to try and make enough room for them both to sit comfortably.

“I think so, yes,” replied Morris.

It was good enough for Quinn who took the reins in his hand and tapped his heels against the flank of the horse to urge her forward.  He whistled for his dog, who fell into step trotting alongside the horse, and they set off for the road.

The weather appeared promising as the sun seemed to be reaching its zenith in the sky.  A few clouds could be seen here and there but they were white and fluffy, not the sort that tended to threaten rain.  Spring was getting on into summer, but the heat had not yet arrived and settled over things.  It was a nice day to be outdoors, Quinn decided, with the sun on his face as they passed by green fields of grass flanked with colourful wildflowers that had burst into bloom.

Morris had put his large arms around Quinn's waist, settling into a level of comfort that would likely have made both of them blush had they been looking at one another.  Quinn was tempted to tease him, but when he heard Morris sigh and felt the press of his head against his shoulder, he decided that holding on to this closeness was much more important.

For all the secret sentimentality that Quinn was holding on to, Morris’ mind was still turning over the kitchen in his mind.  Quinn realized once he heard another sigh that sounded less content and a little more dramatic.  He rolled his eyes, but chose not to dislodge Morris from his shoulder.

“I suppose I ought to give up,” Morris was saying.  “I am not made to succeed in the kitchen.”

Perhaps a little dramatic was a slight understatement.

“I've not complained about your cooking yet.  You make very good stews.”

“Any idiot could make a stew,” grumbled Morris.

Quinn made a dismissive noise at the back of his throat.  He couldn't make a stew.  He could barely make a cup of tea and even that was only something he had recently attempted to learn.  He had been asked to watch the stew pot once or twice - at Morris’ and back when the Inquisition had been a thing.  Once in the Hinterlands, the broth had started to boil over and Quinn had sat there and watched it happen because it's all he had been asked to do and he wasn't certain what one was supposed to do when these things happened.  He had been sent into the field with only army rations after that - something he was still cross with Cullen about all these years later.

“It's just bread, Horatio,” said Quinn after a while, finally returning from his thoughts back to the present.  “Don't let it bother you so much.”

“If only it was just bread,” said Morris, sounding once again much more dramatic than Quinn felt the situation called for.  “I tried making mead once, you know.”

“Mead?” said Quinn in genuine surprise.  “When did you make mead?”

“The first year I had my bees,” explained Morris.  “I had all this honey and didn't yet know what to do with it.  So I got it into my head to be a brewer.”

“I take it things went poorly?”

He felt Morris nod against him and heard another sigh.  “I put the jars in the barn to ferment.  They exploded.  My horse was startled but unhurt, but an entire harvest's worth of honey just splattered all over the walls.  I'm a little afraid of trying it again.”

Quinn didn't respond right away, uncertain whether he should encourage Morris and if not, how honest he should be in explaining why.  But the day was bright, and Quinn was determined not to let this time spent together become clouded by other things.  So he chose his words carefully, feigning an airy dismissiveness that he knew would make Morris laugh.

“Ah… well… I don't drink mead anyway.”

[justxrandomxlivia]

We won't let you fall again!

Masterlist

Summary: Your day started with oversleeping and ended with an Iraqi lieutenant and an American lieutenant holding your hands? Who would have thought that falling into an ancient temple you've been searching for months would change your entire life?

Warning Sign: Mention of weapons. That's all. No monsters in this story, just an ancient temple and two countries that hate each other.

Word count: 3910 o.O

AN: JASON AND SALIM! Two men I couldn't decide between. I know I'm not the only one, so here you get two wholesome men. I'm struggling with the idea to continue the story in a second chapter, or writing just a little more extended, more romantic/smut ending. I will see if you guys want me to or not ;)

“Ah it’s going to be colder today. Finally.” Mumbling with a sleepy voice, I rolled over in my bed. It’s not comfortable, but It’ll do. Slowly rising from my deep slumber, I realised that the sun was quite high already. “What time it is?!!” I yelled and jumped off the bed, checking my phone. “2 pm? You must be kidding. Why did nobody wake me?” I ran over to my stuff and got dressed quickly, then I left the bedroom. Meeting the owners of the house. “Good morning.” I said while hustling to get my shoes on. The oldest man laughed: “No morning. After noon.” I looked him, he pointed to the table, where was some coffee and bread on a plate. Letting my shoulders drop, I smiled at him. They are all so overly kind, if I would just be better in learning their language. I sighed and took my one shoe off again, then I sat down and thanked him. We are supposed to pay them 20$ the week. But my team and I decided to pay them 50$ per week each. What Is a lot of money for them. And for their kids. It’s never a bad thing to give more. After I was done with my little breakfast, I suddenly heard helicopters. Two I would say. I know the risks, Iraq and the USA are still on a warpath, but this area here should be fine. It’s quite isolated. There is a small town in the near, with some market for local farmers. Nothing to get for the US.

I got my plate cleaned and got back to the main door, taking my shoes on, grabbing my bag and left the house, just to found myself surrounded by soldiers. They were pointing machine guns at me and yelled at me. The helicopters were right above me, then flying into the distance a little bit. My legs got shaky, and I couldn’t say anything, I got on the ground and one man tied my arms, then he led me back into the house. He pushed me down next to few of the house owners. A couple of minutes passed before a woman, wearing sunglasses entered the room, behind her was a man: “Everything clear, ma’am. No violence needed either.” He’s American. From the south I would even say Deep, long, slow words, with an immense rolled sound, must be the south.

The woman kneeled next to the shepherds and talked to them one by one, in Arabic. They answered her one by one, and her face grew more and more annoyed. She then kneeled in front of me: “What about her? Doesn’t look Iraqi to me.” She said and the man briefed her: “She was about to leave the house, hat a bag with many notebooks and various archaeologic books. All English.” She nodded at his words and spoke. “Then I’m sure you understand me girl?” I shook my head and raised an eyebrow: “It’s called racism. Saying somebody doesn’t look like a certain nationality. Girl.” I huffed at her. Her eyes grew big and the man behind her, tried clearly not to laugh. She then looks at the man behind her, “You said books in her bag. A passport too?” he only shook his head in response. “My passport is in my pocket.” I told her and she stood up. “Check her lieutenant.” She told the man, and he put his gun aside, walking to me.

He then pulled me up and patted me down. As he found my passport he chuckled, “British.” He gave the passport to the women. “What’s your business with the house owners?” She asked. I looked her dead in the eyes. “I’m an archaeologist. My team and I stay here, because the location where we work is only couple of miles from here.” She sighed at my response. “This is a waste, those are just shepherds, the activity he was seen, must have been you then. What was Eric thinking. Untie her lieutenant. Sergeant, untie the shepherds.” She said waving at another man and left the room. - “Thanks.” I said as the man untied me.

“So, your name is y/n? That’s a pretty name for a pretty girl.” The lieutenant said as he walked me to the main door. “First, thanks, but second, I’m not a girl, I’m a 29 years old women.” – “Guess I messed up already. No date then?” he stopped and looked back at me. I giggled at him. “Well maybe, mister military, you can come visit me sometimes when I’m back home. But it’s quite a long way from the USA to London.” I gave him a light nudge at the shoulder, without a warning he came two or even three steps closer, looking into my eyes. “To visit a beautiful woman like you, there is no way to far.” He whispered at me. With that he opened the door and signed me to go through. I stepped outside and searched for a little card in my bag. “Here, Lieutenant. Call me.” I offered him a business card, with a big smile, he took it. “University of Oxford. My luck, by the way, It’s Jason. Have a nice day ma’am.” He said waving me off. I waved back and walked to my car.

As I just turned away from Jason, shots fired. “Fuck!” I yelled and jumped in cover of my car. Then all I could realise, was chaos. Shots, bombs, crashing helicopters, yelling and screaming people. I tried to get around the car to hide near the old stable buildings, when suddenly the floor collapsed. “y/n!” Jason yelled from my left as I looked at him, I felt how everything underneath is breaking apart. “NO!” I tried to jump away, but almost lost balance, when a strong hand gabbed my arm and pulled me back up. A man with an Iraq uniform pulled me up “Go this way!” he pointed to the mountains, I didn’t care who he was, he saved me and I started running again, just then. I fell again. And this time for good. Everything turned black.

As I opened my eyes, I felt a sharp pain in my whole body. I looked around and realised right away where I was. “Holy shit. Found it!” I jumped up, just to regret it right away, as my body felt like broken. Stretching and checking for any wounds, I was shocked how lucky I got. A few scratches and bruises. But nothing serious. Then I took my bag and checked for my camera. Still working, great. I took photos of the immense pillars, old statues and Jason. Wait, Jason? “JASON!?” I yelled. – “Y/n! Are you alright?” out of nowhere, Jason appeared and came right away to me. He checked me left, right, up and down. I tried to calm him down, but he seemed nervous. “Jason, I’m fine, really.” – “No, maybe you have some injuries we don’t see right away.” – “Jason, I’m serious!” I yelled at him and pulled him by the shoulders. “I’m just a little cold. But it’s alright.” I tried my best to convince him that I was fine. He let out a deep sigh, and eventually calmed down. “I don’t have anything to warm you up. I could hug you, but that wouldn’t last long.” He smiled at me concerned, but I nudged him at the shoulder, “Yeah yeah, you just want some physical contact. Let’s check if somebody needs help.” He nodded at me and followed me through the darkness.

After quite some time striving through the darkness and me taking pictures from almost everything. We heard a male voice from behind “Put that gun down and turn slowly around.” I didn’t hesitate and lifted my arms up and turned around. “It’s you!” I said, looking at the Iraq soldier who saved me the first time I was falling. He smiled relieved at me, and I took my arms down again “You saved me, thank you.” I said, but then I realised Jason had turned around, but he had his gun aimed tight. “Don’t do anything stupid, boy.” The man said to Jason. “I can say the same to you, old man.” Jason hissed back. I took a deep breath and moved slowly between the two guns. “No one is shooting anyone, if I am here. Please.” My words were trembling. Not sure if I would make it out alive of here. The Iraq soldier lowered his gun and put it back into the holster. “I don’t want to spill anymore blood.” He spoke slowly, approaching me carefully, “You look like you are cold.” He said and took his jacket off.

“Don’t you fucking go any step closer to her. Y/n, get behind me, now!” Jason yelled, slowly approaching me as well, just that he had his damn gun still aimed. “Jason, stop it.” I said, placing my hand on top of his gun, slowly pushing it down. “I trust him. He saved me, not even knowing who I am.” – “I don’t.” Jason cut me off. The man lifted his arms, in one hand holding his jacket. “I know who you are. Your name is y/n l/n. You are an archaeologist. My son, Zain, has been running around your research area, every day for the last two weeks. He talked about you a lot.” He spoke slowly handing his jacket over to me. I took it. “Thank you” I spoke quiet. “Yeah, I know Zain. He’s a smart boy. Wants me to take him back to England.” I giggled at him. “It’s his birthday today. My name is Salim.” He smiled at me. I can’t let Jason harm him. Technically seen, I know Salim. What am I supposed to tell his son. Sorry, your dad died, because he tried to give me his jacket. I shook my head, throwing the jacket over my shoulders, I looked at Jason once more. “Come on. He’s not the enemy.” Jason only looked at Salim, with distrust. Then Salim spoke to Jason, directly. “You want to get out of here, so do I. We must work together. Not shoot each other.”

Jason finally took the gun down. “I’ll keep an eye on you.” He said, pointing at Salim. I nudged Jason slightly against the shoulder. He will have bruise by the end of the day. Then we continued the way to find others. What felt like hours, were actually only a couple of minutes, but the fact that these two were arguing the whole time about military, racism, politics, terrorists and other stuff like lieutenant ranks, was killing every last nerve of me. As walked some ancient stairs up, I heard voices arguing. I pressed each of the two man a finger on the mouth, so they would finally shut up. Then pointed to the big door at the end of the stairs. Salim and Jason both, walked past me with aimed guns. I stayed behind and waited for a sign. It took too long for my taste, so I entered the room quietly and stood next to Salim. In the big room where machine guns, tables, radios, papers and more. It was the heart of this temple. An old archaeologist station. Just as I wanted to check the papers, Salim pulled me back. I looked at him and he looked at me, then around the room. As I followed his view, it was clear the situation was tense. Iraqi soldiers and Americans were with aimed guns standing against each other. Just Salim and Jason didn’t pick a side. “It’s a damn order Kolchek!” A blonde man yelled. “I don’t take orders 200 ft below the surface.” Was Jasons answer. What badass.

“Ehm, excuse me.” I spoke and walked a few steps in front of Jason and Salim. Both men grabbed me by my arms and wanted to pull me back. “I got this, don’t worry.” I spoke, they hesitated but let me go. I took around 3 steps more and spoke softly. “My name is y/n l/n. I’m an archaeologist. And a professor at the University of Oxford. I don’t have anything to do with both of your countries, and honestly not much knowledge about the current issues between you. But technically seen, you are on my research territory. I would really not like to call the local police, or clean your blood from ancient coins, so if you’d be so kind and do not fire a single bullet on MY ground. Would be so wonderful. Thank you.” I looked back and while Jason smiled amused, Salim was shaking his head. I ignored all military personal and made my way to the tables. 10 years of drama class is finally paying out, they have no idea I was terrified to the bones. One by one soldier eventually took their guns down and they made a hand sealed deal, to not shoot a bullet on or near my research territory.

It worked. Good job. As I checked the first papers, I realised, this is like heaven. I took more photos from everything. This time, again from Jason, but also from Salim. Both smiled at the camera. “Come on y/n. We have to get out of here for now.” Jason spoke as he followed the others. “What about all this then? This is the only reason I am in this country at all.” I asked frustrated. Jason chuckled, “You’ll come back. But now we need to go. It’s not safe.” I let out a sigh and started following them, as the most people left the sight, Salim, Jason and I were the last. They talked different this time, more like allies.

As we made it closer to the surface, I could see the sun finally again. It was warmer here than down back there. Different helicopters were heard, people yelling, dogs barking. They must be searching already. Ropes hang down and flashlights were blinding us. I tried to cover my eyes, what was not a good idea, so close next to an underground cliff. With a crack, the ground beneath me broke and I all felt was the heavy forces of gravity. “Y/n!” was the last thing I heard before the heavy impact on a sand pile.

First my back, then my face, then both hands and at last the back again. “Ouch, Fuck!” I cursed with an echo. As I opened my eyes, pain everywhere. Looking around and above, it was almost pitch black. I gave my bag to Jason earlier, so luckily my camera didn’t come down with me. But also, my flashlight was not with me. Slowly I tried to get used to the darkness and to see anything. I touched along the cliff where I have fallen from. I heard echoes, but it was inaudible, what means I’m either deaf or I’m very deep. Following the cliff to the right, it ended in water. With wet shoes, I turned around and walked to the left. My hands along the ice-cold stone, they slowly froze. Luckily, I have Salim’s jacket, my arms would be more bruised. I continued walking along the cliff as I felt that the ground got higher. I might could climb out of here. If the others think I’m dead? Trying to shake that thought away, I pushed myself the higher grounds up and felt how the light slowly came back to me. It seems my eyes were partially blind due to the fall. So, I might have not fallen that deep.

It feels like hours as I finally reached an open area where lights came from ahead. Still far away. To my bad, I started freezing again. This time, it felt more like I was freezing because I was alone. I sat down to the cold ground. “Why does every time go everything wrong. And why does nobody care for me.” I muffled beneath my breath and closed my eyes. “You really thought we wouldn’t care?” A southern accent ripped me out of my thoughts, I opened my eyes and saw Jason above me. “She’s here!” He yelled across the area; it echoed in the entire cave. Jason smiled at me and began stroking my face. Then Salim came from behind him. His face was a mess, a mix of horror, fear, worries, but happiness. “What are you doing here?” I whispered, not believing if I might hallucinate. Salim looked confused and Jason chuckled, then said: “What do you mean? We- ” Salim interrupted him: “We came for you.” At his words, my eyes started tearing up, but my mind was a mess of emotions, incapable to say anything.

Jason helped me up, then he lifted me on Salim’s back. “I’ll be behind you, so you can’t fall off.” Jason spoke softly, rubbing my back. Salim turned his head a little, “We won’t let you fall ever again. I promise.” He whispered to me. As they started climbing towards the surface I started to cry silently. How do I deserve them. My life was all the opposite of support, care and understanding. But these two give me the feeling I’m worthy to be alive. As if they really care. I just met them hours ago, but I have the unbelievable urge, to never let go of them. I wanted to thank them, but no word left my mouth. “We’ll be taking you to a hospital.” Jason said from behind us. I shook my head heavy. “No… They’ll maybe… send me home.” It was so exhausted. Salim spoke a little louder now, “But you need to rest Habibti. No arguing.” – “What you said?” I heard that word before, what I wasn’t sure what it meant. Salim chuckled, “It means ‘my love’.” He called me his love? Was he thinking the same about me as I was thinking about him? Or is this standard kindness in Iraq. Anyway, he was right. I feel more and more like I’m fainting; my body hurts bad. But I know I didn’t break any bones. 

After a while, we finally reached the exit to the surface. Salim let me down slowly, Jason helped, so I won’t fall. “I’m alright. You can stop pretending that every bone of mine is broken.” My voice was angry. I was a little frustrated, they acted as if I have been a small child. Jason took my chin in one hand and whispered. “We will not let go of you anymore, next time you fall, you might break your neck.” He was right, but still. A little less overprotection please. “Let’s get her out of here.” Salim tied a climbing rope around me, from above two people were standing. “Pull her up guys.” Jason yelled above. Then Jason and Salim started climbing themselves. “You know, I grew up in caves, temples, pyramids and castles. I know how to climb.” I crossed my hands in front of my chest and puffed my checks in protest, as they pulled me up slowly. “Y/n stop arguing. You have fallen very deep, you might pass out, let go of the rope and fall again.” Salim spoke concerned. “I promise you, once we made sure you are on solid ground and doctors gives their ok. You are free to do whatever you like.” He said, Jason cut him off. “Except going down here again. First this must secure. I guess the local police will do that?” I nodded at him. “Yes, they usually do. First, I just want to take a shower and then sleep.” Both men laughed and agreed.

Reaching the surface, the sun almost blinded me, then my heart stopped beating. The shepherd’s hut was in bad condition. Parts have fallen into the ground; few smaller buildings were destroyed from bombs and bullets. “The poor people. Their homes. This must have been the worst day of their life.” I sighed and sat on the ground to take in the information, my eyes gave me. Jason stood beside me and laid his hand on my head. “Sorry about that. We will find you another place to stay.” – “No.” I said, “I will of course stay here and help them where I can, just as my team will do, probably.” Then Salim kneeled next to me and laid a hand on my shoulder. “For now, the police have to secure the area.” He spoke softly. “You should come with me. To rest.” His warm smile was so beautiful. I look him in the eyes, ready to speak as Jason’s huffed so loud, few people around us were suddenly looking at him. I looked at him worried and saw how he frowned. “To your place? Yeah, sure.” He shook his head and turned to leave. Salim stood up, “I hoped you’d come with us as well, or maybe join us later, when you get a free from your duty.” As Salim spoke, Jason stopped.

“As if you would want me there. You want to have y/n all for yourself. I’m not blind!” he spoke loud and angry. But also, sad. He didn’t even turn around to face us directly. I got up from the ground and wanted to walk to him, but Salim stopped me. “And I am not blind either. I see how much you care. Just as I do. And I know, you and I care for each other, just as we did, when we worked together to get her back.” Salim was so calm, I doubt I could ever be mad at him, and it seems Jason thought the same. He turned around, his face eventually softer. But before he could speak, I took Salim’s hand and reached out for Jason as well. “How about that date we talked earlier, Marine. I think I owe you two some nice dinner? For getting me out there.” Jason smiled at my offer and took my hand. “Alright, alright, you got me all wrapped around your finger. So, where’s your place? I think I can’t join right away, but I’ll be there for dinner then.” His voice was finally as it was when we met earlier. Not that tense, not worried, just Jason. Salim chuckled and wrote a little note for Jason. He hugged me tight, before he had to return to his team.

Salim and I started walking to my car. “What a miracle that piece of junk didn’t went diving.” I said honestly surprised. Salim and I laughed at my really bad joke and got in the car. He drove, first to my research place, to inform the others about what happened. “They won’t believe it.” I sighed. “Not until they come back to the hut and see with their own eyes.” Salim said and gave me an assuring pat on my shoulder. I nodded, “Yeah, and I can’t wait to put my legs up, everything is sore.” I sighed again. He chuckled and brushed over my arm, “first, you need to take a shower. I will not let you get in my bed or couch that dirty.” I laughed and took his hand in mine. Holding hands, we made our way. I can’t wait to see Jason again. How can you fall for two people. I guess it’s because I have a very big heart. Maybe? Polyamorous it’s called. I’m not sure what future will hold, but I’m thankful for the moments I will have with the two. Every single second.

So what do you think? Second chapter? Or should i just extend the ending a bit? Or is it fine that way? Please let me know ^^

-Livana

[lovewanxian]

Wip Wednesday

For the sequel of my fic Holding onto what remains of my life (it's slipping through my fingers)

Wen Qing’s expression softened even more. “You’re a very strong woman. Wei Wuxian is lucky to have you as his sister.”

“And you”, Jiang Yanli said, the first smile since she had learned of her husband’s death grazing her face. “We pack sisters have to take care of him together.”

Wen Qing smiled back at her, small and hesitant, but still there. Her scent softened and a tiny hint of something floral entered it. “Of course, this idiot needs all the help he can get.”

The other woman rose from her position by the bed and walked over on stiff legs to sit next to Jiang Yanli. She picked up a piece of bread and started eating, and then after a short hesitation, broke off a piece and held it up to Jiang Yanli’s lips. Jiang Yanli startled, but after a second opened her mouth to accept the food. That way the two of them got through a full meal, Wen Qing feeding them both so Jiang Yanli wouldn’t have to let go of her brother’s baby for even a second. 

Neither of them said a word, too exhausted to muster the energy. They just kept their eyes on where Wei Wuxian rested on the bed, on each breath that made his chest rise and fall. Each breath was a little bit stronger than the one before. On his chest, Jin Ling continued to sleep, snuffing gently. The toddler on Wei Wuxian’s other side seemed stronger too. The healer who had been assigned to the child had managed to lower his fever and they predicted he would wake within a few days. Lan Wangji slept peacefully (though forced) on a daybed close by, kept strong by the Lan disciples, and through that strength kept his mate alive in turn. 

“They’ll live”, Jiang Yanli murmured, low enough that only Wen Qing could hear. “We’ll keep them alive.”

“Mm”, Wen Qing murmured back, her eyelids heavy with exhaustion. At some point, Jiang Yanli  and her had started to lean against each other to stay upright. “I know.”

[sunspray-peak]

Ch. 51: Pathetic

MONDAY - WINTER 1

Achilles had spent the last day of Fall in bed, rising once to use the restroom and once to clean out Voltaire’s litter box. 

Shane had come a-knocking in the afternoon—to collect the last harvest of the season, no doubt—but Achilles, half-asleep, had only tossed the cigarette he’d been smoking into the ash tray on the floor and punched his pillow. The man needed neither him nor his approval for whatever farm-related task was at hand. Shane knew what he was doing, better than Achilles ever did, that was for sure… 

The fresh start Fall had once foreshadowed had petered out, to be replaced by a terribly drastic decrease in both temperature and mood. Achilles had already wasted his second day of being 28, and was quite a bit inclined to waste another. But plans and promises made by a more functional Achilles of seasons past were now waiting to be fulfilled, and he had little choice but to drag himself out of bed before the dawn of a late rising Winter sun. 

Today was to be his final visit to Meteor Elementary and his somehow still-stubborn pride wouldn’t allow him to let Penny down. 

Besides, perhaps it would be good to get out, right? Be… somewhat productive. 

Right. You tell yourself that… 

After deciding he didn’t really need to shave, he tugged on a scarf, grabbed his messenger bag from the back of his chair, and hurriedly made for the kitchen to scoop some more food into Voltaire’s automatic feeder before heading out. 

“Meow.”

“Yeah, yeah, go meow yourself,” Achilles grumbled, chucking his early morning cigarette into the sink. “Chill, I’m not bringing it to the school, who do you think I am?” 

To emphasize his point to the cat, he withdrew the lighter from his pea coat pocket and slid it across the kitchen table. It was just a plastic little thing, part of the “mental breakdown emergency supply kit” that he always kept under the bed (it was also where the cigarettes had come from), and it ricocheted off the edge of the typewriter that he and Alex had placed there three days before. 

It was still in its packaging. Still untouched.

Achilles paused to study the box, a small frown on his face. 

And then he left, slamming the door behind him. 

*****

The children had been sorry to see him go.

Earlier in the Fall, he had offered to have the students’ stories professionally bound by one of his old contacts in the industry, but the slim paperbacks would be mailed directly to the school, and so today’s visit was to be his last.

It had been tough to sound alive, when all he wanted to do was return to his bed. But he sat himself down on the stool at the front of the classroom, feeling like an open wound and yet plastering on a smile. He even managed to flash a thumbs up to little Jacob Carney who complimented his six day old stubble, and answered any final questions from the enthusiastic crowd with as jovial a tone as he could muster before handing back his final edits and notes to each of the students. 

They had been sweet. Had gifted him a small, potted crocus flower, a handwritten card, and a bevy of hugs when it was time to go. He would miss them, he was sure. But the brief elation those clamoring kids had inspired was quickly soured by a new thought. 

Really just can’t help but miss even the tiniest bit of attention, can you? Pathetic. 

*****

Take the bus back. Grab food. Go home. Three bullet points to check off in his brain. Simple. Easy.

He flung up his hood as he shuffled into Pelican Town. It was scarcely past noon and already getting much too cold for his comfort. He’d done his research, he knew Winters in Zuzu could be tough… at least, compared to those in Hyacinthia and Monstera…

Soup would be nice. Maybe a grilled cheese… Did Gus make tuna melts? Ooh with a slice of tomato… sourdough bread and extra sharp cheddar… 

“Achilles! Oh, how are you holding up, my dear?” 

“Ah.” With a start, Achilles turned to his right—he hadn’t removed his hood when he’d entered the Stardrop Saloon, and had to fully pivot to make out Evelyn standing beside him at the bar. “I’m… doing well. And yourself, Evelyn?” 

“I’m doing very well, dear, thank you for asking! Oh, and how lovely it is to see you up and about, George and I were just so concerned after Spirit’s Eve, now, weren’t we? Alex had mentioned the maze had been an awful fright for him this year. Now I’ve said this to Lewis before and I said it to him again…”

Achilles smiled wearily and turned back to the counter, but Evelyn continued to prattle on.

“…now George and I have got a rare evening alone tonight! I thought it might be nice to surprise him and order something special for dinner. No one fries mushrooms better than Gus.” 

“Oh? Is Alex not around? I was thinking of—” He cut himself off. What was he thinking of? Surely nothing. Must’ve been a slip of the tongue, something out of habit. To be honest, he hadn’t allowed Alex to occupy much of his thoughts lately, not since Spirit’s Eve. 

“I’m afraid not, dear. He likely won’t be back until quite late, he’s got a big date of his own tonight, I believe! Were you looking for him?” 

A big date? 

Gus had returned with the rather large order Achilles had placed, but as he clutched the steaming boxes, he found he hadn’t much of an appetite; the plastic containers burned his fingertips, but the pain felt strangely distant. 

“Oh. I see. No, that’s quite all right—”

“I can let him know you were looking for him—”

Achilles cut her off with another tight-lipped smile. “It’s nothing important.” It was nothing at all. “Just… was simply thinking of going for a run. Thought he might want to join.” 

“Oh, yes, you boys and your runs.” Evelyn patted Achilles’ hand as Gus returned to the kitchen. “He can’t join today, but you stay warm, dear! And do stay safe—the paths can be quite slippery in the Winter, especially the bridges.” 

“Of course. Thank you, Evelyn.”

He nodded curtly, left the saloon, and returned home. 

Check, check, check.