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scaramoucheslove · 3 years ago

Note

PLEASE expand more on that Zhongli brat tamer thing you posted 🥺

Brat Tamer! Zhongli x Brat!Reader (GN)

Listen to me

What to expect: Spanking, Size kink?(a bit), Choking, Teasing in public, Getting called “whore” once I swear, Zhongli as ur god, fingering? lmk if I missed anything!

A/N: AAA BRAT TAMER ZHONGLI NEEDS MORE APPRECIATION </33

(also im so sorry if this is shit even tho i spent so much time writing it?? hurr i apologize and i tried to make it as gn as possible! <33)

Zhongli loves an obedient sub that listens to him and obey his rules. You, were the perfect little baby for him. You were his obedient, perfect little baby. Sure, you’ve been accidentally bad a couple times here and there. But imagine if someday, you were curious enough to see what’s it like to test his limit. So, when you were acting out of the ordinary, of course he’d be suspicious.

It all started when you both woke up. He’d always wake up first, usually drinking tea at the dinner table and you’d always greet him. But today, you felt a little braver than usual and decided to just ignore him and went ahead to the kitchen to grab your breakfast. He raised his brow, but thought nothing much of it. You put your plate on the table and played with your phone while eating your food.

Zhongli cleared his throat, causing you to look at him with a confused look on your face. “Good morning” he said with a smile, a fake one if I may add. You ignored him and continued to play your phone and eat your food. You could see his smile fade away in the corner of your eye. “I expect a response, no?” you looked at him, and his expression seems blank. “Uh, morning?” you answered blankly before continuing to ignore him. He sighs in defeat, standing up to prepare a hot shower to cool him off.

Zhongli said he’ll be meeting up with a few people for a while, and of course you being you, decided to tag along. You were confused on what to wear—until you remembered your little plan to push his buttons. You smirked at yourself before thinking. You had an idea. You put on the most revealing clothes you’ve ever worn out in public just to mess with him. Once you were done getting ready, he doesn’t say a single word. His gaze was enough to make a person tremble, thus why you were averting his eyes the whole time. He simply grabs your hands and wrapped it around his and said nothing more than a simple “Let’s go.”

You finally arrived at the Teahouse after quite some time. The moment you two opened the door, all eyes were on you. You looked absolutely stunning. Your looks may even be enough to tempt a god. Zhongli clearly tried to ignore the situation and dragged you to the back and seated you both at the corner of the Teahouse.

The meeting overall was boring. Although it was pretty boring, you had to admit that hearing people talking about Morax and acting as if they know more than Morax himself was kind of funny. You yawned in boredom and continued to look around before your eyes landed to your boyfriend’s figure that was sitting right beside you. His eyes that are completely focused, the way he talks, and the way his tall figure is sitting straight, asserting dominance through small, simple things. You couldn’t help but feel excited just by looking at him. Your excitement caused you to land your hand on your boyfriend’s thighs as he was listening to some people talking and discussing about the geo archon. He looked at you, confused and you gave him a small, sweet innocent smile, in which he returned.

But what he didn’t expect was for your hand to go higher and higher, until he realized that your hand was basically almost touching his dick. Before you could do anything further, he slapped your hand away and came closer to your ear to whisper, “Behave.” That action alone caused you to shiver and it tempted you even more. Biting your lower lip, you decided to wait for the right moment. After everyone was done talking and discussing, they asked for Zhongli’s opinion. And just right before he gets the chance to talk, you took the chance and managed to place your hand between his pants without raising any suspicions. He flinched slightly, earning worried looks from other people and workers. “My apologies, I thought I saw something.” He said as he kept his composure. And surprisingly enough, they believed him. Thank god you were seated in the corner so that no one could see what was actually happening between the two of you. You palmed him through his pants slowly as he explained about his opinion. You could hear the slight shake on his voice and clearing his throat way more than he normally does, even though he looked completely focused and well composed. “Mr. Zhongli? Are you feeling alright?” someone said in which he responded with a slight nod, and a pinch to your thighs as a warning. You gasped quietly in surprise and stopped your ministrations before looking at him. His stare was menacing, daring you to make another move. In which you responded by looking the other way and pouting as you rest your hands that was palming him a few seconds ago on the table.

The trip back home was silent. You didn’t dare utter a word, not after all that. You looked fine and chill on the outside, But inside? You were trembling. Was it really a good idea to make your god angry? Is it even worth it? Your thoughts were racing as you asked yourself. But there was no turning back.

You walked inside the house slowly, trying to keep calm and collected. You knew you were in deep trouble the moment he shuts the door with a slam. You saw a glimpse of his beautiful, black hair with a gradient, glowing, neon orange color near the ends of his hair, which usually occurred where he’s focused like in battles, or if he’s really pissed. You didn’t really want to test him any further, so you just decided to follow his next commands and obey him. “What has gotten into you?” He asked, voice demanding for an answer. You turned to him, looking to the ground instead while fiddling your hands. He clicked his tongue and forcefully held your chin so you were met with his amber colored eyes. “Talk” He demanded. You were unable to form coherent words and ended up stuttering on your words. He shakes his head in disapproval and practically dragged you into the bedroom.

He lets you go once you’ve both reached your shared bedroom. You watched as he sat himself on the edge of the bed, looking down and letting out a sigh. The moment his eyes met yours, you immediately looked down, not prepared for his eyes to pierce through you so sudden.

“Strip.” He said lowly. Calmly. But you knew him. It’s always the calm before the storm. You stood there, silently, not moving in the slightest. You could feel the tension in the room. He was disappointed. Of course he was! He had all the reasons to be. He walked towards you slowly, observing the outfit you wore. One of his gloved hand stroking it smoothly as his other hand gripped your jaw gently and made you look into his eyes. “Tsk, I have given you such a simple task. But I know you humans simply cannot do anything yourselves.” He practically spat as he tore your clothes off with both hands. Your eyes widened, mouth slightly opened and you froze due to shock as he chuckled at your reaction.

His two hands grabbed you by the shoulders and threw you onto the bed roughly, a contrast to his gentle grip on your jaw earlier. You continued to freeze in your place and he took the chance to pin both your hands with one of his, as his big and strong body kept your smaller one caged. You tried to get out of his grip. But it was no use. No matter how much you try, he will always overpower you.

“Tell me, love. Were you being a brat on purpose?” He asked you with a teasing tone on his voice. You closed your eyes and gave up, exhaling the breath you didn't notice you've been holding while nodding your head slowly in shame and embarrassment. He chuckled lowly as he lets both of your hand go and flipped you over. You yelped in surprise as he positioned himself so that your stomach was on his lap and he places his hand to rub gently on your ass.

You cried out, “Zhongli please I’m sorry-“ “Now, now. It’ll hurt a bit. But you mortals really need to be taught a lesson to know their place.” He says as one of his hand stroked your hair and the other continued to move gentle motions on your ass. “Zhongli pleas-“ Smack. A loud noise echoed across the room as you jolted forward and you felt your eyes beginning to water. “Can you just listen to me, brat?” his voice sounded clearly annoyed. The room was quiet for a while, until he broke the silence. “Stay silent and take it like the good pet I know you are.”

The sound of your cries and sniffles could be heard in the rather silent room. You were sobbing, hands starting to go numb as you gripped them onto the bedsheets, your ass sore and red from all the painful and harsh smacks Zhongli has delivered. You were trembling. It felt like hours since he started and it never seemed to end. He eventually stopped and started caressing the spots he had abused minutes before. “I’m sorry my love, but If I don’t do this then… you’ll never learn from your mistakes.” He explained. You were still sobbing, but a part of you was relieved that it was over.

He got you off his lap and laid you down carefully onto the bed as you finally closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself down. That is until you feel a hand tracing your back and onto your underwear. You felt him come closer as he whispered in your ear “Seems like someone got excited. Well, it isn’t really a punishment if you enjoyed it. Don’t you agree?” you can feel his hot breath fanning your ear.

He flipped you over, your back now facing the bed. You hissed slightly at the sting because your ass still hurts from his ministrations. He gently spread both of your legs apart as he sat himself in between your now-parted thighs and pulled your underwear down, in which he threw across the room. You tried to cover yourself up but again, it was no use. You were now exposed for him and his eyes to devour. “But I’ll have to admit, seeing you in that revealing outfit where everyone can see really makes me…” he paused as he searched for the right word before continuing. “Jealous.” You prayed to the archons to make it out alive before answering him. “Oh? M-maybe you’re just mad they can probably fuck me better than you.” You’ve done it. You took back what you said about obeying him, but at the wrong time. “Getting brave now, are we? How ironic for someone who cried over a punishment moments ago.” he bitterly chuckles. “Well then, we’ll just have to see how hard I’ll break you tonight.”

He took off his gloves and immediately gathered some of your wetness on his fingers, combining it with the drool he managed to get at the corners of your mouth. He wastes no time as he inserts one finger into your needy hole. You gasped and held onto the bedsheets once more, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. God, his fingers were long. You can feel him filling you up as he kept pistoning one finger in and out of you. But then you started to whine for more. For him to fill you up more. “Humans are indeed greedy, but you’re my greedy little human, aren’t you whore?” you scrambled over your words before he used his free hand to wrap it around your throat and tightening his hold around it. “Answer.” He stopped moving completely and you whined as you finally managed to answer. “Y-yes!” “Yes what?” “Yes, my lord.”

#zhongli #zhongli smut #genshin angst #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #uhh this is dissapointing im srry #genshin impact zhongli #im so sorry u had to read this

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rommahh · 3 years ago

Text

I Carry Your Heart

Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: 4k

{Ahhhh ok so this is my first work like ever. There will definitely be a second part because ive got more to say and it needs a second part. I hope whoever sees and reads this imagine enjoys it. I appreciate comments, likes, reblogs, ideas on what could go into the story, and any form of help and redirection as to how i should write things. Much love, R.}.

Part two

All Y/N wanted tonight was to hang out with her boyfriend, eat a mass amount of junk food, and watch a marvel movie or two. That was all she wanted and that was all she asked of her boyfriend. Instead of any of that happening, she found herself sitting on the nasty kitchen island of her boyfriend's frat at a party that she was trying to avoid going to.

This party was supposedly ‘the party of the year.’ The last rager before finals and then christmas break. Y/N had spent the whole week studying and finishing up end of semester projects hence the want for a chill night. When Harry came to her saying his frat was throwing a party tonight and that he just HAD to be here, Y/N didn't feel like she had a choice but to let him go. She came because she thought this would be the only time she would be able to have some time with Harry after a long week of barely seeing each other. With two vastly different majors, the couple wasnt able to find a lot of time in the middle of school work to make time for just the two of them. Obviously her hopes of quality time with her man were futile because here she was sitting by herself in the kitchen of the frat while Harry drank and got high with his friends in other parts of the house.

Of course she was disappointed. She felt a knot in her throat and a weight on her chest just sitting there in that kitchen. Her white claw was warm now- not that it was any cold when she opened it. She was starting to form a small headache from the too loud music and the ache in her heart was growing.

She stood from the countertop on the search for her boyfriend, hoping he wasn't too far gone from sober. Wiping the back of her jeans from anything that was left on the island, she began walking around the house. She doesn't remember the last time the two of them spent time together by themselves. Of course they occasionally ate dinner together in the dining hall but they were normally surrounded by friends. Y/N wanted to be alone with her boyfriend to talk and bask in his presence.

After pushing through groups of partying humans, she found Harry and at least ten other people sitting around playing some sort of drinking game.

“Y/N! Where have you been?” Luca, one of Harry's frat brothers yelled out to her from the circle. Luca was cool, he was one of the only tolerable boys in this frat aside from Harry. Hearing his girlfriend's name, Harry turned around from where he sat on the ground and reached out for his girlfriend to sit beside him. Much to Y/N’s dismay, Harry was wasted. His eyes were half mass and his words bumped and slurred together. “We are playing truth or dare, wanna play?” Luca asked.

“I don't wanna play but Ill sit and watch.” Sitting next to her boyfriend, she grabbed one of his hands holding it in her lap. She was annoyed at him but it did her no good to show it when he was this drunk.

This game of truth or dare was childish. Dares of licking people's shoes and taking multiple shots had been done and truths about money and relationships were being spilled among the group. It had finally become Harry’s turn to do something, making Y/N tense.

“Ok Harry, I dare you to…” One drunk frat boy started looking around the room trying to come up with something clever. His eyes landed on a pretty girl in the room, Yara, a stuck up girl who for sure got her way no matter what. “I dare you to kiss the hottest girl in the room- obviously not your girlfriend because that defeats the purpose.” The frat boy smirked knowing what his intentions were. Everyone in the group giggles and gasped shocked by the dare but ready to see what was going to go down. Y/N’s brows furrowed as she became angry with the stupid dare.

The ache in her chest seemed to tip over the edge when she felt her boyfriend in the room move to stand up. She grabbed at the bottom of his shirt as a way of stopping him. Harry halted his movements to look down at his girlfriend. He giggled a little.

“You’re not actually going to do this right?” She asked Harry with wide eyes of shock. Harry laughed at her like she made a joke, making her heart hurt even more.”Harry I do not want you to do this just take the shot and lose the dare.” Her tone held warning.

“Don't be silly of course I'm going to. It's just a dare, nothing serious. Don't be so clingy.” He stood walking over to Yara and planted a wet kiss on her mouth. Yara gripped Harry’s shirt and kissed him harder. The kiss went on for a few more seconds, the room absolutely silent out of shock. Harry stepped back from Yara slightly sobering up from his actions. Yara smirked at Y/N, hand gliding down the front of Harry's shirt.

Y/N stood from the seat she was in and scoffed. Scoffed because she should've known Harry would do something like this. Scoffed because it hurt to see her boyfriend do something so careless without any regard for his girl's feelings. She pulled herself together, feeling her throat tighten once again. She was quick to leave the room and down the hall of the frat.

Harry's clumsy steps could be heard from behind her as he mumbled her name. Or at least he tried to. He was still so out of it, his words not making much sense. Y/N was crying now, the strength that she had slowly dissolving as she walked further away from her boyfriend.

“Y/N wait. P-please wait. I cant-” Harry stumbled over his legs behind her falling into the grass of the front yard. The girl couldn't help but turn around looking at her stupid boyfriend. She was choking on sobs now. She wasn't crying over a measly little kiss but over an extreme amount of burnout from school and exhaustion from simply existing. She was crying because her boyfriend ignored her boundaries, crushing and erasing the boundaries she had set in their relationship. Harry tried reaching for her once she had stopped walking. His hand clasped around her wrist, he laid his head down on her shoulder. He hated seeing her cry even if he was too drunk to see why.

“Baby don't leave, Im-Im Sorry.” He hiccuped and burped due to the alcohol. Y/N felt her rage build. Shoving Harry off of her, she crossed her arms across her chest as a way to shield herself from Harry physically. He was hurt by her distance and the wall she put up around her.

“You're an idiot Harry. An idiot!” her sobs grew louder, some stray party goers watching in amusement- some even snapchatting it for shits and giggles. “I didnt want you to kiss her and you did. What provoked you to think that was ok? All I wanted was for us to hang out tonight and just be us and you did this!” She was yelling now. Her hurt is beyond her now. Anger and rage simmered throughout her body making her head dizzy and her fingers curl within themselves. She didnt like being angry. It wasn't an emotion she liked acting on, it felt impersonal.

“Baby I don't under-” Before Harry could finish his sentence he was barfing at his feet. Y/N stepped back disgusted with her boyfriend. She couldn't even feel remorseful because of how angry she was. Luca, the frat brother from earlier, caught up with Harry and his girl only to find Harry doubled over heaving. Luca wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders.

“I'm sorry Luca but I can't do this tonight. Can you please make sure he gets some water and goes to bed. I-I can't do it tonight, I wish I could but I can't.” Y/N didn't want to leave her boyfriend in this state but she didn't deserve this. She wasn't going to care for her drunk boyfriend when all she wanted to do was care for herself. Selfishly, she enjoyed seeing him this way because of the anger he caused her.

Luca shook his head in understandment. “Of course, I'm really sorry for tonight. He's going to seriously regret this in the morning, especially since it will be circulating all over snapchat in the morning.” Luca waved to Y/N then proceeded to pull Harry into the house. Harry called out for Y/N not wanting to be away from her but Luca pulled him harder.

Harry woke up the next morning feeling like the bottom of a dumpster. He wasn't shocked by that. He knew he got trashed last night, he had planned to. He, just like Y/N, spent all week studying and completing projects while also fulfilling certain responsibilities for his frat. He wanted one night to be a normal teen. So he drank and drank and drank and maybe even smoked some weed. As he tried to recall last night's events he came up with nothing. He didn't understand why Y/N wasn't here with him like she normally would after a party on the weekend. They were normally always together during the weekend. A bad feeling loomed over him. He could tell something wasn't right but decided to put his feelings to the side.

He saw a bottle of water beside his bed making him think she was probably here and left early. Chugging the water he started to go through his socials to see if anyone had posted about the party. He had multiple tagged pics and videos in his notifications from snapchat. Way more than he normally would.

The first video he saw was a video of him and Y/N standing in the front yard of the frat house. Turning the volume all the way up he could hear Y/N yelling, it shocked him. She doesn't normally raise her voice, especially not at him. The angle changed showing her face which was red with anger, eyes filled with unshed tears. He could hear her yelling about him kissing someone else. He felt his heart stop. He had kissed someone else? On the next snap was a picture of him keeled over vomiting on his shoes with the caption saying, ‘are yall seeing this shit?’ Harry was embarrassed but he was more concerned than anything.

His head was hurting but it didn't stop him from rolling out of bed, washing up, and putting on a fresh set of clothes. He checked his phone hoping Y/N had messaged him but nothing was there. He walked into the kitchen only to see luca sitting at the counter eating cereal.

“Hey Harry….” Luca said warily. Luca pushed the cereal around his bowl feeling the tension begin to rise in the room. He felt horrible about his friends.

“Luca...what's up?” Harry was confused by Lucas' wariness.

“So do you remember anything about last night?” Luca asked, setting his cereal down in the sink behind him. Harry started playing with the frayed edges of a bracelet Y/N made for him. It had little beads with her name on it. They made them together at an event on campus.

“I don't, I only saw the videos of Y/N screaming at me. I think I fucked up but I- I don't know what happened.” Harry's cheek flushed with even more embarrassment. Luca awkwardly chuckled scratching the back of his neck.

“You got dared to kiss the hottest girl in the room and um actually did it in front of Y/N...even though she didn't want you to. Which led you guys outside and yeah you know the rest...Im sorry dude, I wish I had stopped you.”

“Who- who did I kiss?” Harrys stomach lurched when he heard Yara’s name come out of Lucas' name. Y/N didn't like Yara and it was understandable. Yara has been pining after Harry since their first year of college. Harry couldn't breathe. He felt disgusted with himself. He could only imagine how Y/N was feeling.

Y/N woke up the same morning, eyes puffy and crusty from tears and head hurting. She probably cried herself into dehydration. She was lucky enough to have no roommate because she wouldn't have wanted someone else to see her breakdown. She still couldn't believe last night went down the way it went down. She couldn't tell if she was just being overdramatic or if her emotions were in the right place. She didn't want to be mad at Harry. He was everything to her, she had an odd connection to him. Meeting him during their freshman welcome week they quickly became best friends with a growing romantic connection in the mix. They started dating before Christmas break. They had grown close so fast that he even came home with her to meet her family for the first few days of break. Even though they were in their junior year of college, Y/N could see them beyond college. She's imagined them getting married, travelling, sharing a home. She saw the whole future with him. She had her doubts though. He was immature just like every other boy in college. He was dumb with his actions and tended to only do things if they benefited him. He had a lot of growing to do as a person, so did she but she wanted to grow with him.

She heard a knock on her door hesitating to answer it because one, it could be Harry, and two, she looked like a wreck. Answering anyways, she was met with a very sorry looking Harry holding a small coffee and bagel from their cafe.

“Hi baby…” He sheepishly said holding out the items. She silently let him through the door not once looking him in the eye. He stepped into her room, setting her treats on her desk. He could see that her bed was messy meaning she recently woke up. Y/N never went about her day without making her bed. He turned back to her and finally their eyes met. He took in all of her facial features, from her puffy eyes, to her downturned lips that looked chapped, to her flushed cheeks that longed to be held for warmth. He hated to see her like this, the last time he saw her so upset was when her parents moved out of her childhood home. It took alot to make Y/N this upset. She was normally really headstrong and vigilant. She knew how to ease her way out of problematic situations and could talk her way through anything.

Harry opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Y/N holding her hand up in front of his face. “Don't talk. I'm really hurt Harry, so if your plan was to come over here and apologize over bagels- think again.” She snapped, backing up to put space between the two of them. She sat down on her bed while Harry pulled the desk chair out and sat down. He much preferred to be on the bed with her holding her tight but he didn't want to overstep boundaries.

“Love, I don't know where to begin. I'm really sorry for what happened last night. I was really drunk and obviously wasn't in the right headspace.” Harry reached out and touched the tips of her fingers with his. She wanted to move but it felt good to be touched by Harry.

“I told you that a measly little apology won't do Harry. I didn't want you to kiss Yara and you did anyway. You know how Yara feels about you and you just let it happen!” She pulled her hand away remembering the prior night's events. Harry felt himself getting angry too. He felt like he needed to defend himself- even though it would be a very bad idea.

“I think you're being over dramatic.” Wrong move Harry. “It wasn't like I was making out with her!”

“You're joking right?” She scoffed and scooted further up her bed to create more distance. “Harry it's the simple fact that you did something that made me uncomfortable that shouldn't have even happened. I see myself getting married to you and it makes me worry that right now in our relationship you can't respect my boundaries!” She yelled. Harry’s eyes widened as he laughed sarcastically.

“Married? What the fuck are you on about? I'm a junior in college. In what world would it make sense for me to be prepping a relationship for marriage? Once again I think you're being over dramatic.” Her eyes watered hearing Harry's statement.

“I- I guess I'm the only one in this relationship thinking about the future? I thought we were on the same page. I'm not planning our marriage now, obviously. I'm thinking about how elements of our relationship now could play out in the future when we do want to get married. You cheated on me last night. I went to a party you begged ME to go to only to be there for you. I wanted to be here cuddling with you, pigging out on fast food but I was at a party with you and got cheated on!” Her volume rises once again, making Harry shove his chair from underneath him when he stands up.

“You're doing too much right now. I'm not planning a future right now because I don't want this future! I want to be myself without thinking about how to appease my girlfriend. I invited you to the party so you could lighten the fuck up. I love you, I do, but I'm not thinking of marriage and futures. I'm thinking about my life right now and having fun.” Harry snapped right back at her. Her chin wobbled. Obviously her and Harry were on different pages. It hurt so much to hear him say that he didn't want a future with her. Harry didn't mean it though.

“Ok, well I guess that's my fault for assuming we were thinking along the same lines. Um, I don't want to hold you back from being yourself so with that being said, you are a free man Harry.” She pushed herself up from her bed walking to the door ready to escort Harry out.

“Huh? Love, what?” Harry was confused on how they got to this point. Just a few days ago they were in love, meeting in the library to share a lunch and exchanging sweet words determined by their love.

“Listen I have a day full of exams tomorrow so if you could just leave that would be best. You don't really want this so I'm letting you go, Harry.” She had tears rolling down her face, falling from her eyes down to her chin where they fell to the ground in droplets. Harry’s eyes welled up watching his love cry before him.

“I don't-”

“Harry, leave, please.” She opened the door making room for him to go through. He walked through the door turning to look at her. She turned her face away from him whispering a small goodbye before shutting the door. Harry was left in the silent hallway, so silent he could hear his thoughts and the tears hitting the tile floor beneath him. He thinks he stood there for at least thirty more minutes before accepting what had happened and walking away.

Leaving Y/N in her room sobbing like she had never done before. Her tears coated her face and she thought her head could explode right then and there. She didn't want to accept what had happened but she had priorities. She composed herself enough to start studying for her exams.

The week rolled by quickly, Monday meeting Friday in a flash. Exams were done and Christmas break was on the horizon. Students were piling off of campus in a hurry ready to get home to their loved ones. People were outside by cars loading up their winter necessaries and saying their goodbyes to their close friends.

Harry cried everyday this week. He wasn't normally a crier. He hated crying, he hated the feeling of crying and the headache that came from it. He cried because he realized how wrong he was. He missed Y/N. He missed finals week dinner together where they tried to get off campus at least once and be alone for a moment. He missed watching her relax while eating food that wasn't from their school's cafeteria. He would pay for their meal just so she could have one less thing to worry about. They would normally get frozen yogurt right after too, Y/N getting as many toppings as she wanted because Harry would be the one paying. He missed her tight after exam hugs. She would squeeze his shoulders tight, smiling into his neck, telling him how proud she was of him. She would bring him tea in the morning when they met for breakfast. Sometimes they would spend the night in one or the others room so they could have time together to destress and just talk.

Y/N wasn't doing any better. She normally went into exam week feeling confident. She studied too hard not to. But this week she felt like shit. Her heart hurt and she kept thinking about the fight. She feels like she overreacted but hearing Harry talk about their lack of a future hurt nonetheless. She really assumed that they did have a future that included marriage and a life together. She didn't understand where his sudden lack of commitment came from. She regretted dumping him but at the same time she wished he did more to get them back together but he was silent. He hasn't contacted her at all and avoided all of their spots on campus all together.

She stood by her car prepping for her six hours car ride back home. Packing away her clothes and some essentials in the trunk of her car, she heard light footsteps behind her. Closing her trunk she turned to see Harry standing with his hands in his pockets.

“Hi.” He said. She looked at him, putting her own hands in her pockets. It was cold outside, the nippy air hinting at a possibility of snow.

“Hi Harry.” They shared a moment of silence together. Just staring at each other. It felt good to be near each other again. They felt like they could breathe again.

“I had to see you before you left. I know the break is only a month but I didn't want to leave without seeing you.” He replied quietly. She made him feel so shy. Her beauty always made him awestruck. Even in a hoodie with their college's logo and some large sweatpants and some fuzzy crocs, she was the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

“I don't know what to say harry.”

“It's ok. I don't deserve anything from you after what I said. I just wanted to apologize and wish you a good break before you left. I also wanted to give you this.” He pulled a small box and envelope out of the front pocket of his backpack. “I know we agreed on no presents but I think thats a dumb rule and I love you too much to not get you something.” She smiled at his words, taking the gift from his hands.

“Thank you Harry, it means a lot to me. So what are your plans for a break?” She asked him, the tension that was in the air slowly dissipating.

“I couldn't get a flight home until next wednesday so i'll stay here on campus until then.” He shrugged.

“Oh ok. Well tell Anne I said hi. I have to go Harry but I'll see you after the break, ok?” She didn't want to leave him but she didn't want to drive through the dark.

“Ok, love. Drive safe. I lov- I mean have a good break.” Her chest tightened at his hesitation. She wants to hear him say the words but she knows he won't.

“Have a good break Harry.” She whispered. Before getting in her car she stood on her toes placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Rubbing her thumb across his cheek and turning away and into her car.

She drove away knowing that her heart was left in that parking lot in the hands of someone she loves way too much.

Harry stood in the parking lot watching his heart drive away for winter wanting nothing more than to be with her.

Part two

#harry styles x reader #frat!harry #i carry your heart #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles x y/n #college!harry #part 2 coming soon #harry styles smut #fratrry #boyfriend!harry

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animehideout · 3 years ago

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Tokyo revengers boys : jealousy headcanons

Chifuyu

• this poor baby would be lost .

• doesn't know what to do exactly to kick that guy away from your side.

• you attended Emma' s birthday , that girl has a lot of friends and she invited all of them and ofcc she invited all the tomans .

• you were with the girls drinking some idk beer or juice ( as you like ) when her friend approached you , well he approached you so he can flirt with you. He noticed you from a far and he wanted to give it a shot.

• you thought that guy was acting friendly thats why you were talking casually with him especially that hes 2 years younger ,but slowly the guy started touching your arms and being an innocent girl ,you didn't see his actions as s*xual, instead you were acting friendly.

• chifuyu's jealousy is sad , when he gets jelaous he feels sad instead of angry , his heart ached a bit when he saw you smiling, he thought you were enjoying the touches that guy gave you.

• he brushed these thoughts cuz boy he trusts you so much but he cant trust others , he knows that you're beautiful and you have a lovable personality and anyone can easily fall for you.

• he rushed to your side holding your hand softly gently rubbing it with his finger.

• he mumbled " baby come sit with me" " oh chifuyu hold on a sec baby " you said squeezing his hand and then finishing the conversation with that boy.

• chifuyu wrapped his arms securely around your body so that boy can't touch you.

• he would give him scary glares from behind .

• he cant help but pout each time you laugh when that guy says something funny.

• " is he your brother ?" Asked the guy

• "no actually hes my fiancee "

• yes you noticed that he was jealous you can read him like an open book .

• you noticed his cute pout and how his eyebrows frown so u introduced him as your 'fiancee' to make him feel better because you know that hes feeling insecure.

• actually you kept that conversation on purpose cuz you knew that the guy would ask you abt chifuyu since he was clinging to you like a koala.

• you excused yourself and then left with chifuyu , you held his hand really tight and guide him to the balcony.

• you knew that he needs reassurance , well good luck in that because you have to baby him and reassure him for the rest of the night, you're not complaining tho , hes your fav person after all besides you really enjoy showering him with your love and affection because he deserves it .

• when both of you are alone and sat on the bench there he quickly buried his head in your chest wrapping his arms around your figure seeking for warmth and affection.

• your hands found their way in his hair and your free arm went up and down his back only to send shivers down his spine.

• " is my baby jealous" , he nodded as he snuggled closer he was embarrassed and mumbled a little sorry " sorry for being needy i can't help it " " aw baby thats okay im not complaining besides its an opportunity to cuddle with you " " when we go home i want to cuddle you and sleep" he said looking up at you resting his chin on your chest " i want that too baby" you said flashing him a sincere smile .

• he was happy and reassured but that lil baby needs more affection and you're more than ready to give him all of your love .

Note : gifs are not mine , credits to the owner.

#animeheacanons #tokyo revengers #chifuyu imagines #anime #tokyo revengers chifuyu

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katsukiibby · 3 years ago

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Argument after Argument

warnings - angst with happy ending, unprotected sex, breeding, shower sex, established relationship

another stupid argument, over what ? forgetting to pick up grocery. if it weren’t for the highschool reunion the two of you were attending tonight, you’d be at home sleeping at a distance from each other in your shared king sized bed.

at first, tsukishima didn’t even want to be in the same room as you. it took a lot of convincing but he eventually agreed just to shut you up.

he looked nice, really really nice. you couldn’t help but think he did this on purpose. he would usually never dress this nice for a silly gathering. then again, you gave him the same treatment. you dressed your absolute best, not even caring if you where over dressed.

you were expecting more of an reaction. he barley glanced at you and gave you a simple ‘you look nice’. when he saw the way you scoffed and huffed out your nose when you saw him, he was satisfied. all he wanted was an reaction.

“are you ready yet ?” he rushed you. you simply rolled your eyes and walked out the door.

you hated when it got like this. both of you had too much pride to admit that the other is right or to apologize.

you waited for him to open the car door like he always does. he doesn’t seem like the type but after 4 years together, you’ve realized he does small romantic acts instead of verbal romance. the little things he did made you so happy, it put a soft smile on your face thinking about it.

that was all washed away when he walked up to the car and got into the driver’s seat, leaving you standing outside of the car. “are you getting in or what ?” he spat. his tone was so harsh.

the drive was silent. thick tension sat in the air. you were turned towards the window and he was focused on the road. you thanked god when you pulled up to the school. you’re hoping you can loosen up tonight.

you both walked in and were instantly met by old friends. from what you heard, your old bestfriend, shoyo hinata became a volleyball player for a pro team. you were extremely devastated that you didn’t keep in touch but nows the chance to reconnect.

just as you were serving yourself a drink you hear a familiar voice. “hi ______ !”

it’s was tadashi. you never really talked to him at school, in fact you recall properly meeting him a bit after you and tsukishima got together back in college. “hey tadashi, it’s good to see you !” you brought him into a hug. “u-uh you too !” he replied with a small blush on his face. “kei should be around here somewhere.” you told him. he nodded and walked off, telling you to enjoy yourself and blah blah blah.

about 4 cups of rum punch later, you were having the time of your life. shoyo showed up an hour ago so the two of you were catching up. (well it was mostly you rambling about your day to day life while you were pretty drunk.)

you hadn’t seen tsukishima this whole time, and honestly you didn’t mind, you needed a break from him. the gathering was coming to an end and you were far from sober. you knew how to handle yourself, so it wasn’t like you were embarrassing yourself or anything, but you definitely needed help from shoyo with walking.

“let’s go find tsukishima and get you home.” he said as he put your arm around his shoulder to help you balance. “just use my phone and call him.” you slurred out.

he got your phone and attempted to open it with your old password from your first year of high school. a small smile appeared on his face when it worked.

he went to contacts and searched for tsukishima. he called him and handed you the phone.

“______ where are you ? it’s time to go.”

“hey kei, im outside the cafeteria.”

“ok im coming.” he scoffed

“thank yo-” he hung up before you could finish. you started frowning and shoyo noticed.

“everything will be fine ______” he said rubbing your back. you didn’t want to cry. you didn’t want to waste your tears on a petty disagreement. you got up and hugged shoyo, thanking him.

right on cue, tsukishima pulled up just in time to see you hugging hinata. he honked and told you to get in the car. you said your goodbyes to shoyo and got in the car. once again, awkward silence.

“so did you have a good time ?” you tried to break the tension. “it was fine. and you ? seems like you had your fair share of fun” he responded in a judging tone.

“yeah i did. it was nice to reconnect.” you said, trying to not have a snarky response. “seems like you did more than reconnect.” he said lowly. you looked at him confused “what do you mean by that.”

“well you were practically throwing yourself at hinata.” he said with a scoff.

your eyes widened in disbelief. did he just accuse you of ‘throwing yourself’ at your best friend.

“how was i “throwing myself at him” ?! we were literally just talking the whole time !”

“i saw how you were touching him, hugging him, laughing at everything he said. surely he wasn’t that funny.” he chuckled, keeping his eyes on the road.

“are you that fucking insecure ? god, i wasn’t touching him in any way and i was hugging him because he felt bad for me. the way you were talking to me was so fucking harsh.” your voice began to shake, not from sadness but anger.

“all i said was that i was coming to pick you up. how’s that harsh ?” he raised his voice.

“you hung up before i could even get two fucking words out.” you yelled.

“it’s not that big of a deal.” he rolled his eyes

“yeah but this isn’t the first time you’ve done this.”

“you’re always so mad for no reason.” he responded

you didn’t say anything after that. you both just sat in silence until you arrived home.

after arriving home, you both went up to your room. it was completely silent and the air was full of anger and tension.

you got in the shower, you had to cool off. argument after argument. you were afraid for what was next. tears started to well up in your eyes and next thing you knew they were falling.

he could here your soft sobs over the shower water falling. he didn’t mean to react that way. he was just so angry. he was angry at himself for letting this get so big. he was angry because you could leave him at any moment.

it startled you when he walked into the bathroom. “are you ok ?” he asked softly. it was silent for only a second until you replied with mhm.

“i-i’m sorry.” he said lowly. that was something he very rarely says so you were pretty speechless.

it took a few seconds for you to respond “i’m sorry too.” with a small voice.

“i just don’t want to lose you.” he continued with a shaky voice. “you’re not gonna lose me kei, we just need to.. work things out.” you replied. you heard a soft ok before the door opened.

“wait..” you said loud enough for him to hear. “can you come in here.. with me ?” you asked nervously.

“are you sure ?” he confirmed carefully. an ‘mhm’ can be heard over the noise from the shower.

he slowly undressed, already somewhat turned on from your request. you two haven’t been intimate in weeks due to the arguing. a few kisses here and there but nothing more. just being able to see your body again was making him excited.

he peeled the shower curtains back an stepped in, already admiring your body. you on the other hand took no time to begin to pull him to your height to kiss him. passionate and hungry for more. he tasted so sweet. his lips felt so soft, and his tongue was so warm as he slowly slipped it in your mouth.

he walked forward until your back hit the wall. he was holding your cheek so softly, kissing you so softly, as if. he was afraid he’d break you. he never wants to hurt you the way he did tonight. he wants to be more careful with what he says and does.

he began to trail kisses down your neck. he was teasing you. he knew the exact spot you loved oh-so much, but he’s going anywhere but there.

as soon as he made contact with the skin in between your ear and collarbone, you whimpered. oh god, he missed the way you’d whimper for him. he missed how your body aches for him in the most obvious ways.

you trace your hand down his chest, to his stomach, to his dick and you began to jerk him off. oh how he loved when you’d jerk him off. when you two first got together he refused to jerk himself off because “you do it better”.

he groaned against your neck. you loved that sound. the sound of him struggling to catch his breath, all because of you.

“sh-shit i’m about to cum.” he said slack jawed. “go ahead.” you breathed out.

after a few more pumps, he moaned out loud, releasing his cum for you and only you.

he caught his breath for a second and began to kiss you briefly before turning you around so that the front of your body is pressed against the wall.

he aligned his cock to your pussy, that was already dripping wet. he slowly entered, causing you to let out a dragged moan. he went painfully slow “please kei, f-faster” you whined.

he obeyed as he picked up the pace. his mouth was to your ear, so just hearing his moans were pushing you over.

he slid in and out quickly, causing you to struggle to stand. he took notice and held you up by wrapping his arm around your waist.

a line of swears were heard along with water hitting the two of you and skin slapping.

“i love you, kei. i love you. i love you.” you repeated as you felt yourself reaching your high. that absolutely pushed tsukishima over. he moaned loudly in you ear as his pace slowed down.

he milked his cock in you, and you took all of it happily. “i love you too, _____” he replied out of breath.

“let’s finish the shower.” you said with a weary smile.

#anime #fanfic #wattpad #writers on tumblr #writing #haikyu x reader #haikyuu smut #hq tsukishima #tsukishima angst #haikyuu

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hhjs · 4 years ago

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forget me not.

♡ based on — "During times of war. I want to say: I only love you, And I cling you, Like the peel clings to a pomegranate, Like the tear clings to the eye, Like the knife clings to the wound." and the song nightlife by daydream masi.

♡ summary — Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.

wherein, putting your heart on the line for the sake of doing favours isn’t a frequent component in your schedule. But what happens when this favour is asked for by the boy you may or may not have fancied for far too long?

You accept it.

For a very embarrassing reason, really, which is — you think Hwang Hyunjin needs you.

♡ pairing— hwang hyunjin x reader

♡ word count— 8.8k whoopsies

♡ genre and alternate universe — angst, fluff + hanahaki au.

♡ author's note— this was supposed to be a drabble and then i sort of lost my fucking mind ehe...also this is easily the worst thing i have ever written im so sorry aaa but this is a lil present from my end hahaha

♡ warnings— suggestive content, vomiting, mention of blood. allusions to depression and heartbreak.

Amongst other things, you're extremely bad at saying 'no'. You don't mean the word per se...but the underlying connotation of this very monosyllable which may come at the expense of letting another person down.

It's sort of stupid, you understand, your friends have constantly voiced their worries for your extremely complacent nature more often than you'd think actually. But it all goes over your head. See — old habits really do die hard.

When you're eight, this very defect takes you to dreadful saxophone lessons your mum spoke so highly of. When you're 15, it gets you called to the principal's office for flashing Jeongin trigonometric functions in Mister Choi's pop quiz, when you're older, things are definitely no different.

The passenger seat is occupied, Hyunjin's holding a tangled muffler to his suede jacket clad chest. At 21, he's become someone you used to know. A friend of a friend, Felix's to be very specific. But the man in question, who was supposed to be his ride, passes off this duty for kegstands and you just happen to be the designated driver for the night, shuffling Jisung beside Changbin and Chan, who claims to be 'sober' even though he's half asleep.

Hyunjin is uncharacteristically quiet.

There's a polite smile on rendered your way as your eyes meet. A small curvature along his plump bottom lip, tighter around the edges. Still this simple formality is so beautiful that you feel something inside you come alive.

When Jisung starts snoring, you flip on the radio and Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here comes on.

Your fingers feel numb when they come to tap out a rhythm to the track. It's nice. Tingling guitar riffs swelling, David Gilmour's gruffy voice pours in from faulty speakers. The more the song progresses, the more you find yourself attempting to think about anything that will distract you from the boy beside you, in the flesh no less.

So late at night, the main road is eerily silent. Cobblestones reflecting the sound of tires thumping against its layout, streetlights blinking at you from their drooping heads. Across the street, a baker is tucking away leftover bread and buskers are packing up their beat up guitars, a man in his late 50's pulling his blanket to his nose as he rests a head full of gray hair on the cold pavement.

You glance at Hyunjin from the corner of your eye and find that his staggering smile has completely disappeared. Now there's a distant glaze in his eyes. It's like he's here, in this moment, with you, but at the same time, he's somewhere else.

Under the impression you've done something wrong, you immediately begin to panic. But the thing is, you don't actually know if you should ask. Would it constitute as crossing a line if you had anyway?

Hyunjin covers his mouth with a sleeve, muffled retching building beyond fabric.

The reasonable assumption is obvious. It's not abnormal to be nauseous when you've got one too many drinks in you. He motions for you to pull over, incoherent sentences practically melding together, words forming and dissipating between choking fits.

You scramble to dig out a bottle of mineral water you habitually deposit in the glove compartment, offering him the tissue first. Ears perking up in satisfaction when a garbled thanks escapes his parted lips. But then... something weird happens.

As your eyes flicker to unintentionally glance at the contents discarded on the pitch grey sidewalk, you freeze in your seat.

You were never a big believer of superstition, not someone who buys into myths only meant for the fiction genre. Sure, you can be gullible sometimes...but what's happening falls no way under the realistic category.

The lethal Hanahaki disease, only inherited by some unlucky descendants, every moment in your head prior to this one, was something that's obviously non existent.

Yet... there's so much blood, too much blood attesting to your blatant ignorance. The petals are of a white rose, smudging together in swirls of grotesque crimson in mimicry of a sheen of red sticking to the inner corners of his lips. It has happened before, you can tell, from just how unsurprised he looks.

Hyunjin's stare flits to commit every detail of your to memory, in what only seems a quick study of gauging your forthcoming reaction, though even before you can produce a coherent thought, he says,

"You can't tell anyone." His voice drops a few octaves as though he's afraid your snoring friends in the back might've noticed. "Please."

Hyunjin's face softens by the slightest, contrary to his firm demand, there lies a desperation you couldn't overlook.

In retrospect, what you're about to tell is ultimately a promise that'd come back to bite you in due time. However, see now, you're extremely bad at saying no. Somehow you're even worse when it comes to Hyunjin. So you blink, turn the radio off and say,

"Okay."

—

The pool is preheated. For that you're most thankful.

Frankly, you couldn't imagine what it'd be like being pushed into a chilly body of water mid winter. Not that it's pleasant otherwise, you can't swim.

Well at 15, you hadn't quite learned to. The other kids have scurried inside to hog freshly baked Snowman biscuits Seungmin's mum is renowned for.

Then and you think you'll never quite forget it, Hyunjin's wearing an orange power ranger t shirt, it's darker now that it's wet, his glasses are marked with uneven splatters. His face scrunches up at the sudden splash of wetness engulfing his body. He wasn't planning to get in the water.

"Hold on tight." He says, wounding your arms around his neck, your calves tighter to his sides to support your shivering body. Back then Hyunjin's hair was black, cropped short and swept to the side, he smells like fabric softener and skittles. A water donut is discarded in the middle of the pool.

Everybody you know and don't know, from the birth of superheroes stuck in comic books to valiant protagonists behind fuzzy television screens, has this inherent desire to be saved. From the world, from themselves. No, no, it doesn't have to be a grand gesture, swooping them off of their feet from the grasp of surly men in dark alleys, sometimes it's really just simple. Sometimes people save you in the most ordinary way there is.

The weight of your form on his bright pink water donut while he stood on his toes to merely rest his elbows so the item wouldn't flip, a small act, certified this very claim, had not the nimble touch of his cold fingers, brushing away wet hair from your face, to anxiously ask if you're okay met the purpose. He talks to you like the sound of his voice has the power to injure you.

You nod slowly. Like this, it feels like you're going to be.

Hyunjin pouts, looking perfectly unconvinced. He paddles the pair of you to steel stairs spiraling into the pool, so he can stand without just his nose peeking out of the water, he looks at you once again, a wrinkle between his dark, arched eyebrows and says solemnly, "Jisung's such an idiot sometimes, isn’t he?"

But isn't he your friend? You want to ask. Something stops you though —his tone tells you you aren't the only one to fall victim to Jisung's practical jokes. Not that they were offensive or anything. Han Jisung, the same person who twiddles his thumbs when he wants the last chicken nugget and cries every time you watch Howl's Moving Castle together, genuinely doesn't mean any harm. It's just that...when he's comfortable with people, who aren't many, he tends to do a lot of dumb things. Dumb, endearing things that Minho will kill him for someday.

"A little bit," You mumble under your breath. Heat rising to your face at the possibility of Hyunjin being concerned for you. He sounds almost angry. "Thanks by the way."

It's rather pitiful to remember. Because with time, Hyunjin's world becomes so big that your interaction stands to be too insignificant to not forget. Before you know it, he's the shooting guard of your school's basketball team, just a handsome face who dates better girls, makes better friends. It's superficial and a little sad.

No, no, a little sad is an understatement actually.

To see someone you understood intimately, a boy who always described details too much just to stray from the main story, a boy with too many emotions bubbling to an awfully animated surface; someone who was passionate, sensitive and so nauseatingly big hearted...change into a man who is indubitably untouchable...is tragic. At least.

Yet funnily enough — you can't quite imagine a world without Hwang Hyunjin. His ringing laughter rippling through loud ambiences, his distant humming of Christmas carols whilst he absently skimmed through spines of children's novels and his eyes glimmering in adoration whenever he spoke of something he loved — Without him, you imagine, there would be a massive deficiency in your world, in the world. Like if birthday cakes came with the biggest slice carved out.

Hyunjin grins, a big sort of candid grin that turns his eyes into upturned crescents. His previous temperament long forgotten. Suddenly, this utterly atrocious happening seems to not be so bad. Suddenly you don't mind that Jisung is an idiot sometimes.

"Of course."

—

Hyunjin is not perfect. Hyunjin is no prince charming.

People don't know this. They don't understand this.

He ends up paying for dinner when he's out with a big crowd even though they were supposed to split the bill, he ends up crying when he gets angry and he is an abysmal liar, in every sense of the phrase. Hardly ever succeeding to hide his emotions when he should. When he was a kid his parents reminded him that it's a good thing to be unapologetically himself, that being honest is a good thing.

But as your eyes meet from across an ocean of people quagmired by crunchy leaves, sticky remnants of rain and his ex girlfriend who he now claims to be okay with being friends with, on her toes to poke his cheek whilst Chan's arm wraps around her waist, the soft white roses ornamented on a bow she loves wearing all the time, he thinks it's far from an agreeable trait to have.

Actually whilst you balance a newspaper under your arm and bring your coffee to your lips, it's like you're looking through him, past his skin, his flesh, something secret inscribed on his bones, embedded into his soul. You know everything, you know everything, you know everything.

The thought itself... surprisingly enough, doesn't appal him.

Hyunjin raises his palm in the air, feeling the autumn prickling against his skin. He waves at you.

—

Working at a library can be taxing. But it sure has its perks.

You can just about turn the place upside down and put it all back together without getting in trouble. Albeit another reason, besides your profession could be that Minho owns the place. Frankly, he may or may not have been the only cause behind your employment. It's hard to tell now that your co-workers really do recognise you've a knack for arranging things.

But to you, your job is very personal. A precious thing which relieves you from various worldly tensions. Velvety spines under your roughened fingertips, the burst of minted pages hitting your face every time you walk in, your love for reading, for a world of stories is so immense that you think you wouldn't have traded it even if your life depended on it.

For a disease that's not very well known, it's ironic how an entire section of mythology is dedicated to it. Past closing hours, amongst many novels mounted on your desk, you fixate on the one that made most sense. There's a few things you've picked up in common from all of them though — the hanahaki disease is extremely rare, it doesn't affect all those who suffer from the qualms of unrequited love.

Possible remedy according to findings entail

growths can be surgically removed, if the patient consents to eradication of memories of their loved ones.

Clanking of keys alerts incoming and you pause your tapping pen to look up.

"Burning the midnight oil, are we?"

Minho leans against the doorframe, he's half yawning, half talking and fully concerned for you.

"Yeah, looks like I'm gonna be a while." Your monotonous tone provides that you are not paying a lot of attention. You blurt without looking up. "Are you leaving?"

"No, still haven't finished archiving for that Pfizer project...But I'm going to get a bite to eat..." His inky eyes remain on you as his tone falters, "You want anything?"

"I'm fine. Thanks."

"Wow you're like...really uh invested." He tilts his head in thought, "You seeing someone again?"

You know Minho long enough to know he has a teasing side to him, from diaper days to play dates ending in pillow fights because he kept offering you his last Pringle just to pop it into his stupid smirking mouth — but you have no idea where he's going with this.

So you look up, finally. Furrowing your brows.

"No. What does that have to do with anything?"

He shrugs, "I haven't seen you concentrate so hard since you dumped Jeongin."

Your right eye twitches. Because you know exactly what he's referring to, and simultaneously, for the sake of your well-being, you much prefer being in denial. "What?"

"C'mon. Remember how you always ended up doing his homework?" He reminds you. "It's like when you like someone, you go out of your way to do charitable stuff for them. But...this? Too much. Even for you."

You ignore Minho's comment. To the world, Hwang Hyunjin's place in your life is not significant. After all this is the most natural undulation in the vicissitudes of life — for someone who once was your friend to eventually drift apart, to become a has been. It's too hard to explain why you care. After all this time.

"I was just being nice." You narrow your eyes, unimpressed. "Clearly this concept is lost on some people."

"Sure you are, bud. If being 'nice' is synonymous with whipped." Of course, there's a smug grin gracing his pouted lips that tempts you to fling something at him. Not that you can though. Seeing as Minho breaks out into a full fledged sprint, his singsongy voice a thinning echo bouncing off of shelves and windows and doors.

Still somehow his footsteps manage to travel through walls, permeating into your office with such great amplitude that you could be bamboozled into thinking he hasn't left at all. Or maybe you've stopped paying attention, your eyes zoom in on any other helpful detail you can put to use in wrapping your head around what you have witnessed firsthand.

At the same time, you can't really ignore how hungry you're feeling just from the mention of a bite to eat. So when Minho's shadow forms again on the page you've been 'reading' for the last few seconds you sense a gigantic wave of relief washing over you.

"You know what I changed my—" slamming the book shut, you blink against scanty provision of light, with raise your head and a bleary vision, recognise him in an instant. Except...it isn't Minho. "mind..."

The only source of brightness is a small emerald lamp perched on the corner of your desk, light green catches onto one of the ornamented corners and speckles of golden caress his supple skin gently. You hadn't realised how cold it might've been outside until you see how heavily dressed Hyunjin was, a long overcoat worn over woollen sweater, a Santa hat and muffler pulled to his chin. It's no one other than your boss himself who has given him directions to your office, you know this, Hyunjin has never been inside before.

So when he marvels absently, you sense yourself feeling a little self conscious about not cleaning up. All around you, a comforter and love seat pushed against the window, cigarette butts discarded in ashtray and then...the books strewn before you tell him you practically live here.

For some reason, Hyunjin only seems to loosen up at the spectacle.

"Hi." He says finally.

"Hi..." you arrange the reading materials quickly to one side so you can rest your elbows. A small (successful) attempt made to hide your research. "Something up?" You say, but what you really mean is, what are you doing here?!

Did he suspect you were going to tell on him? Right that's it, that must be it, you tell yourself, believing, knowing, of all the years Hwang Hyunjin has known of you he has never been one to care about your whereabouts.

"I just...um," He starts, forwarding his mitten clad hands. It's the back of a crumpled coffee cup on which straight handwriting reads a bucket list...of sorts. You immediately understand that his coming is an act of impulse. Urgency of living every moment like it's slipping through it's fingers, that he just needed to tell the only person who knows, be it by accident.

Hyunjin clears his throat. "I wanna do all this before I die."

In lieu of giving an instant response, baffled, you gawp at him. Despite knowing, hearing Hyunjin say it out loud somehow makes everything...too real.

It's as though someone's reached inside your throat, pulled your heart out and crushed it with their bare hands. Hyunjin, the boy who smelled like fabric softener and skittles and wore power ranger shirts, the boy with the fantastic smile and cold fingers, is dying. You won't let him. You can't let him.

You thumb along the numbers scribbled in hasty penmanship, look up and blink rapidly, "Okay," you say, a small whisper, barely there words. "That's okay."

Even with the hat covering tips of ears, you could tell the same faint blush coating his cheeks had rushed to that particular area. His eyes drift off to the sight of pens discarded inside a wooden holder because he can feel your gaze on him. "and I...I need your help."

"Alright."

Hyunjin's eyes widen to a great degree, he sits straighter, as if he hadn't expected you to comply so quickly.

And honestly? Neither had you.

It's quiet. Awkward.

"You know it's not like I haven't thought about dying. I just figured I'd get to grow old first, settle down, have kids and all that," A wry laugh escapes his parted lips. "Everything's happening too fast."

You hesitate, thinking he's making a mistake. Frankly he shouldn't feel obligated to give you an explanation.

"You...you don't have to tell me."

"No—I mean...can I?" He gives you a sheepish look, disliking his own whimsical tone, somehow endearing still. You find yourself wondering how long he had to keep his burdens to himself, not just pertaining to his illness, but everything. His dreams, his hopes, his fears. Anything which requires a certain amount of depth. And you almost ask him, the question sitting at the tip of your tongue, yet the realisation rather simple, stops you. Maybe you've mistranslated 21 year old Hyunjin all along — moulding himself into someone who's convenient around people who only liked him for who he appeared to be, maybe even with all that popularity, parties and glamour, he's just...lonely.

You push your reading glasses into your hair, press your knuckles under your chin and hum in consent.

He shifts in his seat, "Have you ever... been in love?"

You release an amused huff. Let your eyes linger on him for a long minute.

"Once."

Hyunjin half expects you to laugh. Poke fun at him for his melodramatic backstory. That's the sole reason why he doesn't tell his friends (funny, for people he considers close, they seem to know not much about him or care to know, that is. ). But you... you look at him with something in your eyes that tells him the rubbish reasons he posited makes all the sense in the world. Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.

—

Midnight rendezvous.

As someone who has lived a fairly extraordinary life, Hwang Hyunjin's bucket list is bafflingly ordinary. He's more of a finding joy in small things kind of a person, punctilious at best.

Things change. People notice. They hesitate, whisper about you and last night while you were out on last minute cheap wine run, the grocerer, a girl who looks around sixteen asks you if you're dating Hyunjin. Underneath the thinly veiled curiousity, there's something like anger dripping from her words.

You furrow your eyebrows in simple insinuation that it's weird for a stranger to take interest in your life. Maybe it was written on your face, the fact that you're a dying man's beck and call is for reasons far more complicated than it looks.

You go to his parties. Greet him as a friend would and not just for the sake of maintaining formalities. He comes to the library more times than he does, waits for you to get off work so you can check something off the list at least. People notice. People understand. Hyunjin's different around you. He's bright, talkative when he forgets to contain himself. You sense your heart swelling with pride just at the understanding that he can be himself around you.

You drive to the beach, sit in your trunk and drink straight out of the bottle.

Hyunjin laughs a little. Suspends his feet in the air. With time, he's gotten paler, exhausted. "Rough day?"

You hum.

"Very. Our children's collection is usually low in stock around the weekends."

Hyunjin crosses his arms over his chest. Curious.

"And?"

"And if I say I got yelled at by a toddler would you believe me?"

Hyunjin feigns contemplation, even with the realisation that his body is becoming less and less cooperative, he manages to remain perfectly cheerful.

"I can actually," he grins, "At that age, I was a real pain in the ass."

"Were?"

Your smile is just a slight curl against the bottle's mouth as he grumbles under his breath about your 'insensitive' remark.

You think of your life after Hyunjin, think of his absence like a gaping hole you'll never be able to fill out. It makes you sick to your stomach.

—

Bake something from scratch.

Hyunjin's face twists in apparent thought, eyebrows rising. A pink tongue poked against his cheek, whilst he chews carefully, trying really hard not to flash an accidental reaction whilst you clasp your butter and oat flour soiled hands together, some of the batter on your cheek, neck to anticipate his answer like your will to live depends on it.

You ask yourself how it got to this. Why you didn't care that you were awake so early on a Sunday morning with flour powdering every kitchen appliance in sight in spite of being awfully restrictive about who you let into your kitchen. But it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter because it's nice like this.

Hyunjin has his hair pulled away from his bare face, a mole under his eye, a small birthmark on the back of his ear.

When you first met, you thought he was a kind of handsome that couldn't be real. Something formidable about it. Only destined to exist behind fuzzy television screens and flashy magazines.

But in retrospect, you realise, that that's not true at all.

If you look close enough, if you really pay attention, there's a softness underneath, something goofy, something warm, the sharp jut of his nose circling into a soft button, his eyes are big, black and his mouth jutted out into a natural pout, he looks innocent, like he doesn't quite realise the extent of his charms.

"It's..." His soft voice pulls you out of your reverie, and you look up to find his eyes glimmering jovially. Every time it surprises you, the lack of regret in them and the abundance of nonchalance. You wonder what it means to love someone like that, to love someone to the point of martyrdom. It shouldn't be like this. "perfect,"

"This is like, the only batch we didn't burn, right?"

You snort, "Yeah." Fully turn to him, "You know what they say, fifth time's the charm."

Hyunjin's laugh, you think, is so contagious that it makes it an imperative to smile in return. In shaky compartments the sound comes, like being 8, laying wide-eyed in a paddling pool and staring up at a crayon blue sky, raindrop rippling beyond all that noiseless water. His eyes curve to upturned crescents, an unconscious hand covering up the seams of his lips whilst he shakes his head. You don't even notice when he starts speaking again.

"Huh?"

"I said you got a little...something..."

You almost lose a fraction of your sanity when his nimble fingers come to wrap around your wrist while you hold onto the spatula employed into the whole snickerdoodle batter mixing business, a liberated hand coming up to gently wipe your cheek. It means everything to you. And nothing to him.

Later, when you're alone at night, really alone, you put your palm to your chest and feel the unsteady beat of your heart. A warning, a reminder. I can't. I can't. I can't.

—

You hold Hyunjin's hair up. His hands resting on the cold toilet seat, he's whimpering and bleeding. It happens every time he sees Haseul, or something which reminds him of her. Like the song.

This time she's drunk. And it's because she impulsively rises to her toes and presses a tender kiss to Chan's lips.

Hyunjin's just a feet away, across students and solo cups and streaks of neon falling irregularly through his line of sight.

He can never confess, not to her. The last thing Hyunjin wants is for her to feel bad for him. To say she feels the same as an act of service. He tells you. You understand. Somehow... you always understand.

They met in college, Hyunjin and she. And Chan was an upperclassman who seemed to be good at...well everything. At first, he couldn't figure out why it never occured to him before, the fact they were getting together maybe before, after or during the length of their relationship.

Though the answer is simple.

Hyunjin thinks the pillar to good relationships is trust. Call him a sappy romantic or whatever but he had seen true love manifest from it through generations before him and his parents and their parents. To think a different fate was woven for him...used to be unimaginable.

How ironic is that?

Hyunjin presses his cheek against your chest because he doesn't want you to look at him when he cries.

Then for the first time....he tells you he's scared. He's scared of what will happen to him. Of what is happening to him.

He's falling apart.

You cradle him, press him closer to your body like you're trying to put him together. People can't fix each other. Not really. But sometimes... they're worth the try.

"Hey...hey...it's alright," You shush him, run your fingers through his hair. Your voice almost breaking, faltering. Still this, this you mean it with every fibre of your being. "It's okay to be scared."

—

Self bleach hair.

It's Christmas and you're late for a late night dinner he's putting together. (As reluctant as he was about getting along with Hyunjin, he seems all too eager to make invite him whenever a get together takes effect.)

His apartment smells like floor cleaner. There's a queen sized bed pushed against an electric blue wall, a Fleetwood Mac poster taped to his door, small reading desk where Canon EOS New Kiss rests, polaroids of things checked off the list littered all its wooden surface.

You pick up the only photo he hasn't labelled, it reminds you that your friendship isn't just based off a pursuit. This is natural. Pizza box discarded between you two, on your roof top. It's a little too dark, you're holding a cigarette between your fingers, you're laughing and Hyunjin looks like he's going to complain the minute he's done taking the picture. (And he does.)

You smile, pressing your fingers against it like the touch could transport you to a simpler time.

"Ready to go?"

Hyunjin rakes a tentative hand through his newly dyed hair, grey (a suitable colour he says.). You can tell he's put a lot of effort into cleaning up, his usual hoodies and sweats alternated with a red satin shirt tucked into dark dress pants and a coat of the same colour. Hyunjin is beautiful. Perhaps even more like this. In fact, the extent of this quality is so Goliath-like that it obliges dolled up attendees to marvel up in awe. While you fully agree with their unsaid ponderings, you really do, you find yourself missing a less sophisticated version of him.

"Yeah, but first..." you fish out a wrapped squarish material from the depths of your pocket. Hyunjin's eyes widen, two bunny-like teeth showing for the extent of his grin.

"You got me a present!" He all but rips it out of your hand, shaking the material eagerly. He’s a Christmas person, a supreme holiday enthusiast if you will. The sheer excitement in him projects itself in every physical aspect possible. Slight jumping on the balls of his feet. "It's a cassette...?"

You speak too much, nervous he doesn't like it. "It’s a Christmas mix. I thought...since you like carols. I know it's a little old school, I'm sorry if that’s not what you were hoping for—"

Hyunjin pulls you into a big hug, wrapping his entire body it feels like; his arms around your waist, he squeezes you tighter against him, "Thank you." He whispers into your hair, it's not just about the cassette, you can tell.

There's a small light bulb dangling from his ceiling, he hasn't fixed it since the first time you pointed it out. You can tell with your eyes closed, you've begun to know more intimately than your own home. It's safe here. A place that deludes you into thinking that he's not running out of time, that even in his absence in the world, whenever you should walk into this room, it would be an imperative to find Hyunjin lazying about in its confines. Familiarity can be quite tricky, can't it?

His gratitude is not unknown to you. It's in the guilty smile that threatens to show every now and then, it's in this and it's in that. In many ways, it is not something you're a stranger to.

And yet the words manage to tears your heart at the seams. Just a little.

—

Make a snow angel.

From above, he imagines, he may appear to look like a chunk of cookie dough in an ice cream pint.

The snow is not as comfortable as it appears, its frigid temperature seeps into Hyunjin's clothes (and what feels like his internal organs, if that's even possible). He waves his hands and legs inward, outward.

Your head tilts towards him. Face twisted in annoyance. "You're getting on my wing!" You say. "Have you no respect for personal space?!"

Hyunjin narrows his eyes jovially. And people tell him he's the one with a penchant for theatrics. He leans closer in rebuttal, waving his leg around your design with more purpose. You give up. Sit on your knees, fumble with the snow. He’s still in the same position. Smug as ever...

"This is what happens when you disrespect your elders." He fake-warns. "Oka—"

What he doesn't anticipate, however, is the snowball you launch on his stupid grinning face. Now it's your turn to laugh. You clutch your stomach and point at him whilst he glares at you having barely managed to blow the snow off of his mouth.

"Oh, you're gonna get it now!"

You let out an animalistic screech, Hyunjin’s already trapped you under his weight, his thighs wound around your waist, hamstringing your plan to escape, now you're merely squirming. His fingers come down to attack your sides, digging into the flesh so mercilessly to the point you’re not sure if you’re laughing or crying. It's like there's a wildfire inside your lungs.

For a moment you forget, you let yourself forget what's to come.

“Alright, alright I’m sorry!” you press your palms against his chest in an attempt to push him off, Hyunjin has a dumb smile on his face that seems to give the impression of a hanger stuck inside his mouth. But... there's something behind his entertainment as the sound of his laugh dies down, chest heaving with exercise. His smile drops.

You can count each lash, each freckle and line on his face. The dark in his eyes. The pink of his lips. Your sweater's ridden to your ribs. And the warmth of his fingers shifting against your bare skin hits you with an earthshattering force.

Hyunjin kisses you. For a fleeting second, you freeze. Rigid with shock. Then it passes as soon as it comes.

You let out a noise of content,indubitably grateful that your neighbours forgot to put on their porch light for the night. See it’s like this, the act of kissing is not as special as is the person himself, you muse, you can kiss anyone, you can touch and be touched by anyone. But none of that truly compares to this. Not when they aren't him.

You’d be lying if you said you never thought about it. Just like you’ve thought about a lot of things. But just the realisation that the boy you’ve harboured in your heart for more complicated reasons than you disclose, to yourself even, touches you with so, so much care...it’s tearing you apart.

It’s too good to be real.

You suddenly push him away. The tugging and pulling at your heart too much to handle. For the fact remains — Hyunjin doesn't love you. He doesn't even like you. You never expected him to. Actually, you've never felt what you feel with that condition in mind either.

See when the feeling of having everything you could ever want is cradled between your palms...it ought to be hard to let go. (Maybe he’s just doing this because he feels bad for you, the little voice in your head says. You listen.)

Hyunjin speaks up first.

“I love Haseul.” he tells you, but it sounds more like he’s telling himself. “That’s why...that’s why, all this...I love her.” Not you.

You swallow, “I know.” Your hands come up to dust your pants. Hyunjin’s still on his knees, as if the answer to his conflicts are deposited under all the snow. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have done—”

Now you hear it, the hint of pity in his voice. You don’t mean to sound as bitter as you do. Seeing as you’re usually very good at keeping calm , breaking that very reputed front frustrates you even more.

“Look just forget about it, okay? We don’t have to talk about this.”

Hyunjin looks like he didn’t expect this side of you to exist. At least, you think, at least it got him to stop talking.

—

Learn to skate.

"If I fall, I'm taking you with me."

"You say it like I have a choice."

Hyunjin shoots you a warning glare even though you can't see. His choppy skidding steps supported by the vice grip he has on your arms. You haven't skated since you were in highschool. But when you're pretty good at it still, the smooth blade of your beaten skates gliding through ice with much dexterity, it's like floating, freeing, the wind hitting your faces, snow catching in your lashes. It's peaceful, you try not to think about the warmth of Hyunjin's arm circling around body, the vague rhythm of his heartbeat against your back. His laboured breaths on your neck. It's torturous. But spending so much time with him has taught you to hide your feelings better.

The park welcomes a large crowd around holiday season, children with toothless grins, tugging onto their mum's coats, small chin resting onto a parents' head, teenagers moving in together in school uniforms. It's the happiest time of the year. When you move past an elderly couple, they smile and tell you make a wonderful couple.

You're just about to make a correction. This puts you in an awkward position... doesn't it?

But then Hyunjin grins toothily and says, Thank you, like it's the most amusing thing in the world. You ignore the wrenching inside your chest.

Hyunjin leans forward, his plump lips brushing against your ear. "Where did you learn to skate so well?!" There's something like excitement in his kiddish laugh aside from admiration. It's not much of a question as it is an exclamation.

"I am pretty good, aren't I?"

He laughs, doesn't let you go. "Yes, yes...really good."

Out of breath, you slow down, move your feet steadily, careful not to lose balance.

"Oh my God! It is you!"

You raise your head, blink against flakes hindering your vision. Jeongin's voice used to be thinner before. As far as you remember. Now it has a weight to it.

You let out a nervous laugh.

"And it's you..."

Jeongin's eyes travel to the arms around your waist, to the stiffened figure behind you and you immediately liberate yourself. Moving to let Hyunjin use your arm as purchase, you don't fail to notice the pinch in his forehead, a frown on his mouth.

"This is my friend Hyunjin. Hyunjin, this is Jeongin—"

"We used to go out." Jeongin smiles, forwarding his hand, which is returned with an unenthused shake and a demure reply. Hyunjin never speaks to anyone this way, not even people he claims to hate.

The former male looks to you again, "I was, uh... wondering if you'd like to go out for a cup of coffee sometime."

Things between you and him ended amicably at the event of his departure for further studies, which deprives you of awkward tension which is expected when exes meet.

Besides, a cup of coffee never hurt anyone.

Right?

Without thinking, you nod slowly, "Yeah that sounds good,"

"Text me anytime."

"Sure."

“I'll be out of your hair then," he beams. "It was very nice meeting you too, Hyunjin."

"Right."

Hyunjin, you realise, has released your arm. He leans on barricades fencing along the skating area, smiling briefly. You know it’s wrong...yet you sense that you almost need him to be upset.

Then he tilts his head back towards you, "He seems like a really nice guy," he whispers, genuinely meaning every word. Your heart sinks. "I see the appeal." Underneath the lurid glare of fairy lights brandished overhead, Hyunjin's ash hair glints like it's threaded out of silver. You wonder what he's thinking.

—

Watch every Disney movie ever made.

You never end up texting Jeongin back. Just stalling for when you're ready, you tell yourself. Even though that's not true at all.

"This brings back so many memories. My parents used to belt out A Whole New World with me, like every time we watched Aladdin."

Hyunjin wipes his face with the back of his hand, technically you’re not very sure what he’s saying exactly because he’s mumbling into a paper napkin you've passed over for the umpteenth time. You find yourself picturing a small but happy family of three, of Hyunjin in Scooby Doo pajamas and gap between his teeth. (Contrary to your previous convictions, he hasn't changed all at much, save for the teeth bit. ) It's cute.

He looks to you expectantly. Can't be the only one telling embarrassing stories.

You shrug, "I had a thing for Simba. Let's just say my mum and dad were nice enough to indulge me."

Hyunjin reaches for the remote and pauses the ending credits of Lady and the Tramp. He turns to you fully now, gives you a judgemental stare. "Simba...?" He says, "Like the...lion?"

"What? It's normal to crush on fictional characters, okay?!"

"Okay,sure," Hyunjin snorts, putting a pillow between you and him so you can't kill him. "furry."

A part of you is tempted, obviously. But the much bigger part is more invested in how he looks happier, healthier. You want to think that means something.

—

Hyunjin invites you over for movie night. It's getting colder and you keep poking him with your cold feet. There's an extra set of blankets in his cupboard, he informs you, he isn't sharing his with you — and that's when you see it.

The deflated pink donut folded to the side, his and yours sharpie inscribed initials on one side.

"Found it yet?"

You don't even notice when he comes to stand behind you. So the question effectively makes you jump out of your skin. Hyunjin has a bowl of popcorn pressed to his chest, there's a pink hair band holding his hair away from his forehead. For the lack of a answer he takes it on himself to find the source of your silence. As if you've been caught red handed.

You think this is where he'll ask you to leave, that or he'll least scold you or something. You prepare for the worst.

Hyunjin just smiles, it's a big smile that succeeds in bringing out the small dimple indented on the side of his cheek. You've never noticed before. It's kinda weird. Because when it comes to him, your attention hardly ever falters.

"You probably don't remember. That’s from Seungmin's 15th birthday,"

You want to scoff under your breath. All this time you had told yourself that you were the only one to be affected by your estranged friendship growing up. Now...the same logic colours you every bit of ridiculous.

You blink away, swallowing. Voice solemn.

"I remember." Hyunjin's gaze is heavy on your shoulders. An emotion you can't quite put a finger on crosses his delicate features. It's something between surprise and relief... something else too. You don’t understand it.

—

It's disconcerting that he can’t remember the last time he got sick. Not the usual discomfort inside his chest, not the blood, not the thorns or petals. Hyunjin's just gotten so used to it, you know? What if he gets his hopes up for no good reason? What if it just comes back?

There's no possible explanation, he explains over a hasty 3 A.M message he had to leave on your answering machine because he's freaking out.

Then Haseul texts Hyunjin, tells him she misses him. Everything's adding up. Everything's falling into place. This is what he wanted, isn't it? She loves him, she finally loves him back. That must be it. He doesn't know what to say.

But he tells you, and when he does, it sounds a lot like an apology.

—

Kiss underneath a mistletoe.

“Chan and I broke up.” She says it like it’s something he should be happy about. So when he remains quiet, it only prompts her to speak more, fill up the big mighty silences.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Look Jinnie, I know I made a mistake, but...can’t you give a second chance? Just this once?”

Hyunjin has thought about this particular moment a lot. Kissing her instead of producing a response, pulling her off of her feet and mumbling of course, of course, of course. Back then, there were little doubts in his head pertaining to her, back then he believed that she was the only one for him. The love of his life at the wrong time, in the wrong place.

Now...something doesn’t feel right.

The thing about wounds, sometimes, of the heart in particular, is when they close up, it’s hard to make head or tails of the kind of person you become in their wake. Hard to adjust. Like when he suddenly shot up 7 inches in ninth grade, a late bloomer at that, and the weight of his new sneakers felt..odd.

He glances at her and also understands what it’s like to be lonely, the constant need to compensate for it by grasping at the last straw. He used to be in her shoes too. This isn’t any different. Albeit, he isn’t exactly taken by her presence. Just that he doesn’t know if what he’s doing is right. He looks over your table a few feet away from where he’s standing. Having gone out to take a call. You notice his absence and then from your seat, do your best to locate him. (he thinks of kissing you on a bed of snow, thinks of the sizzle of your skates against ice, thinks of his list on a coffee cup and his pink water donut and it’s okay to be scared. Why did it have to be you of all people, through everything? It’s not really a work of coincidence. Not at all actually.

Maybe he just wanted it to be you.)

When your eyes do lock...seeing him with his hands in his pockets, her standing beyond the barrier as she tries to say something, you smile, even if it’s a little sad. Hyunjin thinks to the conversation some nights before. Thinks of you reminding him that there's nothing to lose at this point, that he should do what his heart tells him. That it’ll be alright, if he just takes a leap of faith. Hyunjin smiles back. Through the glassy exterior and mini water fountains running down its slanted form. The realisation is not as dramatic as he thought. It’s just late.

He tears off the false mistletoe decoration glued along the periphery of an arch.

And like always.

He takes your advice.

—

Cohorts of guests pour into the colossal hotel, heads turning in quiet admiration for bejeweled arches breaking out against buttery white architecture, the roof is impossibly naked, translucent glass baring a starlit sky to your watchful eyes. Showing little mercy to a frail chute held over your head,costumed characters wade through oceans of gossamer, twinkling silver and swaying movements to slow jazz. You prop a heeled foot up on the bar platform, which strangely resembles a pedestal, in a futile attempt to catch your breath, with clammy digits settled atop the risky surface of a marbled counter. A soft voice speaks over the ambience, uttering your name with much care. You lift your head. And there he is.

Jisung is scouring through the Spotify playlist you’ve put together for New Year’s Eve. He’s complaining about the lack of Beyoncé while your friends go around the buffet table. When he calls you, you’re sipping your drink, laughing at something Changbin is saying, his eyes brighten just at the sound of your laugh. Hyunjin isn’t surprised to see his friend taking a liking of you even though he hardly knows you. That’s just the effect you have on people.

Excusing yourself, you allow him to walk you to a less densely populated area where a stone pillar faces expensive paintings of nameless painters. With the effect of alcohol settling in and your inhibitions effectively lowered, your steps sway a little. You lean against the massive build rising from tiled floor. “So what’s up?” you murmur, the lump in your throat thickening just at the thought of him speaking the good news into existence. “I take it went well?”

Hyunjin doesn't answer. He looks distracted for a bit. Then in an instant he snaps out of his daze. “What did you mean when you said ‘once’?”

Your brows come together in inquiry.

“What?”

"When I asked you if you have ever been in love, you said ‘once’." He persists, his fingers come up to your shoulder, grazing slightly as if they’re trying to carve out words against the skin. "You weren’t talking about Jeongin.”

He knows. He’s always known. Hyunjin can’t believe he’s been so stupid.

“Took you long enough.” You let out a sardonic laugh.“Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

"It matters to me..." Hyunjin sounds offended, you gather, but he manages to quell his temper for the sake of coaxing your confession. Is he purposely embarrassing you? "I don’t think...I love Haseul anymore...I didn’t realise...I haven’t for a long time."

A big chandelier beams over withering plants pushed against the ceiling, in this poor supply of light, you can tell exactly how he looks, eyes glimmering adoringly, you've spent something-teen years of your life wondering what it's supposed to mean. And it still manages to confuse you.

"Why are you telling me this?" you ask, albeit you already know. Because funnily enough, before he got his braces removed and dyed his hair a scandalous blonde, before bucket lists and heartbreak, he was just the boy who told you he liked your stupid reindeer sweater even though it had officially made you the 7th grade laughing stock. You remember being fifteen and in love with Hyunjin. And you've never actually stopped. You need to hear it to believe it.

It drives you crazy. The way Hyunjin brushes his fingers against your cheek, shifting strands away from your eyes. But you can't help it, you've always wanted this. You lean into the caress, peering up at him as his large hand cups your jaw, thumb traversing from your tilted chin to your glossy lips like he's trying to smooth out all the creases. His voice is small, a whisper.

"Because I need you to know I think I’m falling in love with you.” he says. His palm opens and there’s a plastic mistletoe nestled between his fingers. You’re smiling and sniffling whilst his forehead comes to press against yours. Hyunjin grins. “And there’s still one last item on my list.”

“Are you seriously asking me to land one on you now?”

“Oh hell yeah.”

—

"Move."

You press your fingers against the slick, sweaty skin.

In rebuttal, Hyunjin grumbles under his breath. Only half awake, half aware that he was mumbling in his sleep. His naked chest seems to be, if it’s even possible, glued to your bare front as he sprawls out like a starfish over your body, using his gangly arms to accommodate the strange position.

Though and you know he knows it too — it’s anything but uncomfortable.

See by now, you aren't exactly a stranger to Hyunjin's sleeping habits. Or really, any habits of his.

All the windows are cracked open, moonlight percolating through a thin sheet of curtains in rendering evidence that it’s still night time. You can make out the faint sound of honking in the distance, a few stray dogs here and there, probably producing strings of complaints about the blatantly unbearable heat.

The strong stench of sweat and an aftermath of what happened before is a quick reminder of where you are, what you’re doing and that your arm’s going cold for a lack of circulation under his weight. Beads of sweat collected against his skin and trickle down the side of your face, the crook of your neck, which only prompts you to apply more force to the pads of your index and pointer — albeit it did nothing to move him, "Gross." You groan. "You're sweating like a pig!"

This comment, of all the things you've tried to get him to sleep on his side, succeeds in making Hyunjin raise his head, his grey hair matted down, a few rogue strands pushed out to fall over the unamused look in his eyes.

In an unprecedented minute of absolute clarity, something inside your stomach started to churn at the shocking sight. You’re impossibly, absolutely and nauseatingly in love with Hwang Hyunjin and the funny thing is, you don’t have to think twice to know he is too.

"Gross?" Hyunjin lowers his face to brush his pouted lips along your jaw, grinning when you let out a shaky but involuntary breath and as if he is looking to make a point with his digits traversing from your bare stomach, just along the hem of your underwear, "After all that?"

"I hate you." You say — but more like, stutter. The sound of his giggles eliciting a strange sensation in you, reverberating against your chest, knocking against his ribs and your skin, like it’s trying to reach out to you, like your bodies insist on melding into one.

"I don’t think you’re being honest, baby." He laughs, squeezing your side, coming up to plant a warm palm to your butt to repeat the action, which in turn, drew a mewl from you. “Because you looove me.” Hyunjin smirks, his finger thumbing along your throat to your chin. You think this is what all those great poets meant in endless litanies of lovers torn apart by time and war woven together in a simple caress, like a longing, like a secret. Guarded from prying eyes, greedy hands, and you keep it, you keep it. For him. With him.

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wlntrsldler · 4 years ago

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you belong with me (d.m one shot!)

“You belong with me�� for Draco plz 🥺💚

@scene-awsten said:

you belong with me + fred or draco ( u choose im not picky at all !! ) ur writing is amazing btw <3

PROMPT: based on you belong with me by taylor swift (an installment of my taylor swift x harry potter series. to read more about it, click here) Draco doesn’t know how to express his feelings.

WC: 2.8K+

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST

you belong with me (d.m one shot)

You and Draco have a complicated relationship, to say the least. Most days you were at each other’s throats ready to tease each other until one left the room or turned an embarrassing shade of red. He’d reply to your words with a rude remark- which you learned not to take to heart- that leaves you in a fit of laughter because you knew he never really meant it.

It started out in your first year, when you would try to talk to him, as best as your 11-year old half-blood self could. When you were sorted into Hufflepuff and were placed in the same class as the Slytherins for Defense Against the Dark Arts. You were partnered up with young Draco, who wore a frown on his face when he was separated from his friends in the class.

You stared at the boy, taking in his appearance. You grew up in the Muggle world, only learning about the Wizarding world in small bits through your father’s stories. You tapped his shoulder, “Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

Draco furrowed his eyebrows, looking up and down from your face to your outstretched hand. Reluctantly, he shook your hand, “Draco Malfoy.”

You grinned at him, scooting over to get closer to him. “You look like a barbie doll.”

“A what?” he asked, looking at you with a grimace. He moved his chair to create more distance between you two, completely defeating the purpose of your move, “What the hell is a barbie doll?”

“You guys don’t have barbies here?”

“If it's something from the Muggle world, then no.” Draco scoffed, opening his book to the correct page. “Anything from the Muggle world is inferior to the Wizarding world.”

“I don’t know,” you replied, oblivious to his obvious jab. “I will say I miss pens and pencils because these quills are just ancient.”

Draco didn’t talk to you for the rest of the class period, just sneaking side glances at you as you struggled to write with your quill. He rolled his eyes at your cluelessness with all things Wizards and wondered how on earth you got accepted to Hogwarts. I already hate this bloody school, he thought.

Over the years, you found yourself creating a bond with Draco. Despite his terrible people skills, you seemed to be patient with him, not really taking offense to his words. You would laugh and say something kind to him, throwing him completely off balance. Draco didn’t mean to be rude, you see, he just didn’t know how to talk to people. So he acted like a little boy on the playgrounds, pulling the pigtails of the girl he thought was very pretty.

Then one day, you returned to Hogwarts and puberty hit you like a truck. Draco almost didn’t recognize you. You walked into the Great Hall, yellow tie proudly around your neck, with your fellow Hufflepuffs. You threw your head back laughing at something Cedric said and having to take a moment before you could say something back.

Draco noticed that your hair grew longer and your features matured over the summer. Your lips were more plump and you sported a natural blush on your cheeks. He gulped, ignoring the banter of Crabbe and Goyle to his left as he watched you take a seat beside Cedric. You noticed his eyes and sent a smile his way, causing the boy to look down at his plate, embarrassed that he was caught staring at you.

Cedric looked at what got your attention and let out a chuckle to see a flustered Draco, “That boy is so smitten with you, you know that, Y/N? It’s quite funny actually.”

You grinned at Cedric, “How’s that funny?”

“Because he’s crushing on you like a little school girl and it’s funny to see it not returned.”

“Who said I don’t return the feelings?”

He raised an eyebrow at your question, “Do you?”

“Maybe.”

Draco was both irritated and relieved that he didn’t have classes with you this year. To say that he forgot how to speak when you passed by him, was an understatement. Every time he saw you even walk in his general direction, he would turn around and walk the other way. He didn’t know why but he did. You made him nervous all of a sudden and he didn’t like it one bit. As much as he hated to admit it, he missed your banters. His days seemed very uneventful without them.

He was walking towards the courtyard when he felt someone grab his forearm, pulling him towards a secluded part of the castle. Draco’s eyes widened when he realized it was you, angrily huffing as you stopped behind a pillar. You let go of his arm and crossed your arms over your chest. He was mentally debating if he should just run now. Surely you wouldn’t run after him, right?

As if reading his mind, you glared at him, jabbing your index finger in his chest. “Don’t even think of running, Malfoy.”

He gulped, nodding slowly, “O-okay..”

Once you saw his demeanor, you cleared your throat, realizing you’re probably scaring him. You frowned, “Why are you ignoring me?”

“What?” he asked, acting clueless but he knew he was ignoring you. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, nervously looking everywhere but your face in front of him. Merlin, you were prettier up close. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/L/N.”

“Don’t be daft, Malfoy,” you rolled your eyes. “I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re avoiding somebody. Remember when you got Pansy in trouble and she swore she would hex you the next time she saw you? She was so furious that you were absolutely sure that she would so you would hide from her. The same way you’re hiding from me now. So what gives, Malfoy?”

Panicked, he said the only thing he could think of, “I’m not avoiding you. Did you ever stop and think that maybe because we don’t have classes together anymore, that means I no longer have to talk to you?”

“Oh.” You blinked. You swallowed down any feeling of sadness as his words marinated in your head. You looked down, hiding the stray tear that slipped from your eye from the boy in front of you. You wiped it away hastily, clearing your throat before looking up. “I-I’m sorry. I thought we were past being just classmates… I must’ve misunderstood, then.”

His face dropped, leaning over to touch your shoulder, “Y/N-”

“No,” you interrupted, giving him a sad smile before backing away. “Silly me, thinking that we were friends. You’re Draco Malfoy, you’re too cool to have friends. I’ll leave you be now. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

Before he could tell you just how wrong you were, you already disappeared from his vicinity. You walked away, hurriedly, down the corridor, ignoring the sound of Draco’s voice calling after you. Draco groaned, punching the side of the pillar in annoyance. Why can’t he just be nice for once?

You and Draco avoided each other pretty much entirely after that day. You were too ashamed to face him and Draco was too nervous and scared to come up to you and apologize. You just felt stupid thinking that something was brewing between the two of you. It wasn’t until Cedric dragged you to a Slytherin party- for Merlin knows what- that you and Draco were forced to cross paths again. You huffed as Cedric rolled his eyes and grabbed your hand to lead you to the Slytherin common room.

“I don’t understand why I have to go with you.”

Cedric looked over at you, irritated by your attitude, “Y/N, you need to have fun. Loosen up a bit!”

“Hmph,” you groaned, following him anyway. He mumbled greetings to Slytherins that you passed by, not letting go of your hand. Cedric was one of your closest friends, this affection between the two of you was normal. It didn’t mean anything but a sign of your friendship. “I am very much a fun person.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t,” he stopped in front of the drinks, letting go of your hand to make the two of you some drinks. He mixed in random liquids, making you grimace because he was never good at proportions and you knew this drink would be horrid, before handing it to you. “I’m just saying you need to have fun.”

Reluctantly, you chugged your drink, coughing after it burned your throat. You were indeed correct- the drink was terrible. “I hate you, Diggory.”

Chuckling, he sent you a wink, “I loveee you, Y/L/N.”

You wanted to say something back but Cedric suddenly stumbled over. Luckily, he caught his balance before he fell face first on the Common Room floor. Draco bumped into him, glaring at the Hufflepuff as he made his way to the group of Slytherins on the other side of the room. When he looked up to meet your eyes, his expression changed. His face became blank, eyes ghosting over your face. Draco gave you a small smile that vanished just as quickly as it came. He turned his back and returned to acting like you didn’t exist.

Cedric snapped his fingers in front of your face, trying to get you out of your trance. You blinked a few times, now focused on your friend who had a shit-eating smirk on his face. You hissed, “What now, Diggory?”

“Seems like Malfoy’s jealous,” he sang, laughing behind his cup. “I would love to push his buttons and see him completely blow up at this party.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you sighed, stealing his cup and drinking the rest of his disgusting liquid. You grimaced, why did I do that? You continued, “And besides, how would we make him jealous?”

“Like this,” he started. Then, he leaned in your ear, dangerously close to your skin. In a breathy voice, he said, “Pretend I said something funny.”

You giggled at his antics, thinking of how ridiculous your friend was being. But when you shot a look at where Draco stood, you began to reconsider your original opinion. He was standing there, uninterested by the story Blaise was telling him from beside him. Draco’s nostrils were flared and the cup he was holding was starting to lose its shape with how tightly he was gripping it. He didn’t even bother looking away when you cocked your head to the side to look at him.

You thought he would’ve done something to get your attention but for the rest of the night, Draco kept his distance. After a while, Cedric gave up, shooting you an apologetic look that his plan didn’t work out. In fact, Cedric left you at the party a few minutes after Cho showed up. He said he was getting tired and was going to head up, but the two weren’t necessarily discreet when Cho left five minutes before Cedric did. You sent a wink his way and began to finish your drink, realizing that there was now no reason for you to stay.

With a sigh, you tossed your cup into the bin and began to get ready to leave. Draco watched with a panic as you retreated to the exit. He chewed nervously on his bottom lip, unsure of what to do. He watched you disappear into the darkness and slumped his shoulders.

“Run after her, idiot.” Blaise chuckled beside him. “And hurry up, I’m tired of you sulking.”

“What?”

“Go on, Draco,” Blaise simply rolled his eyes and ushered his friend out of the Common Room. “You’ve been staring at her the entire night. I reckon you don’t even know what I’ve been saying all this time.”

Finally coming to his senses, Draco ran after you, getting a hold of your shoulder to pull you towards him. You looked at him, confused as to why he was out of breath and standing there like a deer caught in headlights. He stared at your face, taking in your beauty. He wanted nothing else but to tuck that strand of hair behind your ear or kiss your lips that seemed to be glistening under the glow of the lights in the corridor.

“Draco?” you asked, removing his hand from your shoulder. You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to seem defensive, but in reality, you just missed him. “What do you want?”

Draco gulped, not realizing that he now has to actually talk to you. He didn’t think he’d get this far. He blushed, gaze averting to the empty hallway behind you. He took his bottom lip between his teeth, a sheepish smile on his face. You leaned forward a bit as if saying, “Well get on with it.” Draco sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to find the right words to say. Without thinking, he blurted out, “Are you dating Diggory?”

“What?”

He grimaced, mentally face-palming. That was not what he wanted to say. He groaned, “I mean-”

“You’re a git, you know that?” you hissed, shoving him a bit. “You tell me that we’re not friends and make me feel so bloody stupid then all of a sudden, after not talking to me for weeks, may I add, you think you have the right to ask me about my dating life? You-” you paused, taking in a breath. “You-Draco Malfoy- have no right to ask me anything.”

He stood there, unable to say anything back. What could he even say? What you said was valid, you had a reason to be upset with him. He has been such an arse to you and for no good reason! Draco knew he was just being stupid.

You rolled your eyes and walked away, assuming that Draco wasn’t going to say anything else. You scoffed loudly, shooting him a glare as you turned to leave the boy alone in his loneliness.

Draco called out for you again, “Y/N-”

“Oh and for the record-” you turned around to face him again, but not daring to walk closer to him. “Not that it’s any of your business but me and Cedric are just friends. He’s not the guy I fancy.”

“Y/N! Merlin, please stop walking away! How do you walk so bloody fast?” Draco jogged towards you again, this time stopping in front of you to prevent you from moving any further. You still wore the same scowl on your face and he couldn’t help but stop and think about how cute you look. He chuckled, eyes lighting up when he saw your lips quirk up to a small smile before it vanished. “I didn’t mean to ask about Cedric. Quite frankly, I don’t care about your relationship, or erm, non-relationship with him. Well, I do b-”

Both of your eyebrows raised in amusement at the boy’s blabbering, “Why would you care about my non-relationship with Cedric?”

“I just said I don’t, Y/L/N,” he blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked up at you, growing more flustered once he saw the smirk on your face. “Okay, yes, I do care but listen… Blimey, how do I say this? I just, Y/N, I-”

“Spit it out, Malfoy.”

“Youbelongwithme.” Draco spoke quickly, almost making you miss what he said.

Mouth agape, you asked, “Come again?”

He sighed, “You belong with me. I fancy you. A lot actually. That’s why I avoided you all this time. I just… I don’t know, you know? I’ve never really fancied anyone before. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Not run away from them,” you teased, laughing lightly at his cluelessness.

“Alright now, no need to laugh,” he mumbled. “It’s already embarrassing enough confessing my feelings to the girl I fancy but for her to laugh at me is something else.”

“I’m laughing because you’re cute, Malfoy,” you hummed, reaching up to touch his cheek. “But run away from me again and I’ll hex you into oblivion.”

Draco couldn’t do anything else but nod as your scent filled his senses. You were slowly inching closer to him, breath tickling his lips. He visibly gulped, snaking his hands around your waist to pull your body closer to his. His nose nudged yours, “Promise I won’t.”

“Good,” you whispered, eyes flickering up to meet his own and then looked down at his lips. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips. You pushed your lips together, sighing in content as he groaned into your mouth. His lips moved with yours in sync. Both of you were too caught up in the feeling that you didn’t hear the footsteps coming closer to the both of you.

Someone cleared their throat, making you two jump away from each other, fearing that it was one of the professors. You shook your head, burying your head into Draco’s chest when you realized who it was. Draco wrapped an arm around you, smiling down at your retreated figure.

Cedric chuckled before walking away, “Told you we could make him jealous.”

Draco nudged you, “You were trying to make me jealous?”

Now it was your turn to be embarrassed. To silence him, you pressed your lips to his again, “Shut up.”

“Gladly,” he muttered, kissing you deeply.

TAGS:

@rexorangecouny

A/N: i bought cameos from the phelps twins and oliver’s video came in today and it was so lovely. i can’t wait for james’!!

#harry potter #harry potter fanfic #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy drabble #frances x taylor swift x harry potter #harry potter imagine #frances writes #frances song fics #submission

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capituloperdido1 · 3 years ago

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Traitor Pt 3 (Final)

Hello everyone!

So happy that you guys liked my little story, i am hoping to write much more in the future. So please let me know if there is anything in particular you would like to read. Here is pt3 and last part of the Traitor fic. There is a 'prequel' and it is very angsty, if you guys want that as well let me know.

Enjoy!

It had been three days, three days without seeing Azriel. He didn't show to practice, neither he looked for her in the library.

Coward, coward, coward

She was so mad, how was saying sorry so hard for him?

Or was he embarrassed that he lost to her? no, Azriel would never be embarrassed about that. He was just too afraid to face her.

Or maybe he didn't care, maybe he wanted to fix things with Elain and not her.

Yeah, that might be the answer.

That afternoon Nesta had asked her to come over to the house of wind and stay over with her while Cassian was away in a mission. She climbed the stairs of the library, while preparing to be in the same house as Azriel.

He was not talking to her, fine, she would not talk to him.

Nesta was waiting for her at the door, "please don't kill me, please, please". She said while grabbing Gwyns bags, "my sisters came over for dinner and have not left, i can kick them out but we have to wait a bit for Rhysand to leave Nyx at Amren's"

She smiled

Perfect this night has started perfectly.

"Of course, yeah no problem."

They arrived at the room, and Gwyn felt panic rising to her throat at the sight of the middle Archeron sister. She was probably pissed at Gwyn for all that had happened, she probably hated Gwyn because of it.

"Hi Gwyn!" said Feyre.

"Feyre" she bowed, "thank you for having me".

Elain looked at her, smiled, and kept talking to Feyre.

Well, that's better than the slap she had expected.

She sat besides Nesta and prayed that her High Lord would come soon.

------

An hour past, and the four women were tangled in a conversation about wine when a knock came at the door.

Gwyn felt a tug at her chest; he is here it seemed to say.

Fuck.

"Im sorry to interrupt ladies" a breathy voice said, " i am here for my high lady and her sister". She turned around and faced the male speaking, he wore rather casual clothing compared to the illyrian leathers. His black tight shirt and cargo black pants accentuated his muscles, and his hair was messier than usual.

His eyes landed on hers, and his slight smirk fell.

Oh, great. I'm not happy to see you either, she thought.

Elain stood and quickly walked towards Azriel, but he did not break Gwyns stare; not even while he grabbed the arms of both women and they said bye to Nesta and her.

He looked at Nesta, "is this... a sleep over?" he said softly.

"yes, and you are very much not invited" Nesta responded.

He smirked, "ill be back" he looked at Gwyn.

"Don't leave" he said.

She looked away.

"Please" he said to her, his voice pained and desperate.

And with that, he left.

Nesta smiled and crossed her arms. "You planned this didn't you?" Gwyn asked her sister, "mhm, he helped me get a mate i help him find the balls to talk to you" she answered.

-----------

Gwyn was not one for drinking, but waiting for Azriel to come had made her so anxious that she had considered asking the house for Cassian's oldest bottle of Whiskey to drink it all by herself. Instead, she had been served a big, fat piece of chocolate cake; accompanied by water.

Nesta was in front of her, watching with admiration as Gwyn devoured the cake.

Mother, she loved chocolate.

The tug at her heart began once more, the feeling of comfort and hurt that Azriel brought upon her growing as the seconds flew by.

"He is here" she whispered to Nesta, "I am not ready to face him".

"He is not ready to face you" she answered.

A soft knock came at the door, and the creak of the wooden door was the most terrifying thing Gwyn had ever heard.

"Shadowsinger" Nesta said, "you are just on time". Nesta stood, grabbed Gwyns hand and squeezed it softly, "i need to go fix some paperwork for Cassian, could you please stay with Gwyn while i come back?"

Really Nesta? Thanks.

"Sure, thank you" he answered.

-----------

She did not feel Nesta leaving, neither she looked up to see where Azriel stood in the room. Her hands had become the most entertaining thing in the world at that moment, and nothing would change that.

"Gwyn" he called.

She felt him getting closer, and it took all her will not to jump to his arms.

He stopped, "please, look at me".

"No" she said, "you don't get to demand for me to stay, for me to talk to you, for me to look at you".

Cauldron was he clueless, did he not have a sense of communication?

He is trying, the voice of her heart seemed to say.

"I know that, but... I need... I need to see your eyes" Azriel said. Slowly, she felt him kneel in front of her; not too close as to startle her, but close enough that she could feel the smell of night-chilled mist and cedar filling her nose.

"May i touch you?" He said, stretching his hand towards her.

Yes, please

She only nodded softly.

His hands grabbed her chin and lifted it to face him. "There you are" he smiled, "there they are". His eyes looked deeply into hers, as if he was trying to memorize each feature in them; he seemed... desperate to memorize her. As if what he was about to say would make her disappear from his side forever.

" I have a whole speech prepared" Azriel said, "but i don't think you're the type to want to hear rehearsed words, so let me give it a try..."

Quieter than she had ever heard him, Azriel began " I have always been alone, the shadows and the dark being my best friends..."

"I only knew friendship and love when Rhys opened his home to me; but even as my brothers and i grew, i still felt alone.... empty. I longed for something that would be entirely mine, something that no one else would share, something i would never have to part with." His voice breaking, Azriel inhaled and tucked his hands in his pockets.

"I met Mor when she was very young, she was such a happy girl; always teasing and playing, always happy even with the shitty family she was born into. She lightened my days, she gave me a reason to wake up in the morning; i began to love her before i expected" his voice filled with pain he said, "and i loved her for five hundred years..."

"I thought she had to be my mate, because no one else would make me as happy as her; and i waited for five hundred years for the mating bond to click. Disregarding her feelings, her insecurities and fears; i pushed my feelings down her throat, hoping she would pity me enough to give me a chance".

His confession broke her. What kind of thoughts went through the mind of this beautiful man to say anything like that?

"Meeting Elain was different, i was finally able to help someone as broken as me. I had a purpose beyond violence. I looked forward to sharing time with her, i wanted push her to be better, to forget about that undeserving human boy" He continued, "once she began to get better, i realized that i was not the only thing grounding her. Her sisters, the wraiths, gardening, and even her mate gave her courage to keep going. And i am so selfish, selfish enough to begin loving her; demanding from her what she is not ready to give".

"The winter solstice that i tried to give her the necklace, i did it out of a desire for her to be mine. My thoughts were never about how much i loved and admired her, but rather that i deserved Elain, that three brothers and three sisters made more sense than what the cauldron had chosen".

Gwyn shuttered, her heart squeezing lightly at the words coming from his mouth.

"But i realized long ago, that Elain deserves to choose her own path; neither Lucien nor me are entitled to her, she should be master of her own destiny" He said, no pain noticeable in his voice. "I had to let go, for my sake, my court's sake; but most importantly, for her".

"I could tell you more about my mistakes, and i will, but i have to explain why i gave that necklace to you." He moved closer to her, their knees touching. "That night, Gwyn, the conversation we had made my heart sing; you changed my mood so quickly, and you didn't even know it. You looked, so free, so competitive, so happy".

"Then, after i left that night, i realized that i wanted to see your smile again; so i left the necklace to Clotho and asked her to bring you some joy in that lonely solstice night. And my mind pictured your smile once you received that necklace. The selfish being that i am, has kept that memory in my heart; selfishly locked away so that no one will steal it from me" He smiled and looked into her eyes, "and then you kept showing me so many surprising sides of you. No one challenges me to better as you do, no one wants to see me bite dust as you do. No one is interested in what i think about coffee, or what my favorite mystery novel is. You have heard my voice more time than anyone before."

"You have showed me many times that you're my only match Gwyn".

He paused, as if the words weighted on his heart as much as they weighted on hers.

"You are my best friend, the person i admire the most in the world. I admire your courage, your patience, your perseverance, your happiness. I love the way you show love to your friends. I love how much of a fierce warrior you are. And even though i made a mistake by re-gifting the necklace, i could not think of anyone that deserves to be pampered and loved as much as you"

He stopped, inhaled and touched the top of her hands.

The happiest feeling crept into her heart, her feelings were not one sided.

He saw her.

She saw him.

But his eyes did not show the happiness she expected, not did they show the same desire that burned deep in her.

They showed fear, sadness, longing.

"But with all that i have said, i know i don't deserve you. I have hurt everyone I've ever loved, i have always been so selfish. I have been looking for a bond so desperately that i was blind to what i had right in front of me..."-"I have avoided confronting my fears of being alone, of facing my nightmares and acknowledging how much of a monster i can be. When i look at you, how much you have given me; i regret every moment i have not spent loving you".

He moved his hands away from hers, looked at them and shuttered.

She realized then, unlike her, his biggest fears and insecurities were visible for everyone to see. He hated his hands, he believed them to be the proof of his monstrosity.

He did not know how wrong he was.

Finally, after what felt like eternity he said, " i am sorry Gwyn, i have not been the man you deserve; and i will forever regret that i lost you before i ever had you."

Tears falling down her cheeks, Gwyn grabbed his hands and placed them in her face. How much courage had those words taken? How much courage had even touching her taken?

"Az... you're so blind" she responded with a sob. She turned her face to his hands and placed a slight kiss inside of his hands, "these hands saved me, they are so precious... you are so precious to me"

She looked into his eyes, "i was hurt because i wanted.... i wanted you to be honest with me"

"I thought the necklace had meant that you thought of me" she smiled sadly, "for the first in my life i thought someone had chosen me, someone had thought of me first".

He looked away sadly, "i know that, and i am sorry".

She interrupted him, " I lied when i said i never wore it, i wore it every day, every hour" she laughed softly and grabbed the empty space in her neck that once held her necklace, "i even bathed with it".

He smiled. And damn if she wanted to kiss him now even more than ever.

"Once i found out it had been you who had gifted it to me, i ... finally was able to confirm my feelings towards you" Gwyn confessed. "I knew i fell in love with you the moment in the training ring when you admitted you had given the necklace to me."

Was she really saying this?

Yes

She closed her eyes and talked before her courage disappeared.

"Azriel i am in love with you" she breathed, "i fell in love with the man saw the darkness in me, and did not run away. The one that taught me to fight my nightmares way. The one that listened to me ramble about the silliest things. The one that made an effort to open his heart to me, and answered every question i asked him" she laughed. "After the first night on the training ring; i knew you would be my best friend, my confidant. Once i shared more and more nights with you, i couldn't stay away... i can't stay away from you"

Placing his hands in her chest she said, "i love you, all of you; the spy, the friend, the brother, the shadowsinger"

She didn't dare to look deeply into his eyes, afraid of what feelings laid beneath them.

"You are my center, you are my hope, my ladder to keep climbing up the pit of darkness my mind is. I will never be enough for you; for the pure and innocent heart you have. But if you give me a chance, i will treasure you for eternity". Tears scrolled down her face as she spoke, "I am not you mate, nor i am what you were looking for. But i will fight beside you every step of the way, because you more than anyone deserves happiness".

There. I said it.

She took her hands away from his, looked down and waited.... Waited for him to stand and leave, to laugh and mock her.

But he didn't.

He kneeled there, in front of her.

Shocked

Happy

.... Happy

He was happy; in fact, he seemed joyous.

A grin emerged in the male's face, bigger and brighter than she had never seen before.

Grabbing her hand, he pulled them up.

There they were, facing each other; looking deeply into each other's eyes when Azriel said: "the one that does not deserve you is me". He came closer to her, grabbed her waist and pulled her body towards his "my best friend, my love. I want you to be my entire world Gwyn".

He smiled and pulled a strand of hair behind her ear. His face coming even closer to hers, "i am not worthy of your confession, your heart, much less your body". His nose touched hers, "but give me a chance, i will treasure you until the end of times".

She smiled, nodded and closed her eyes.

Warmth filled her body as Azriel's lips closed upon hers. Soft, warm and gentle. Moving in a pace that would not startle her, he grabbed her neck to pull her even closer to him. He took his time to explore her mouth, kissing every corner. "Thank you Gwyn, for choosing me" he said, "i have found my light where i never thought looking". He kissed her nose, her forehead and her lips. "Now that i have you" he said, not leaving an inch of space between their mouths, "i will never leave you".

-------

As they kissed, something golden and long appeared in Gwyns mind, her chest seemed to swollen at the sight of it. The golden string settling in front of her and pulling her to reality.

She flinched at the same time Azriel did.

Their eyes meeting once again.

And right there, she knew...

"Mate" they said.

#gwyn acotar #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel #azriel fanfic #fanfic #acotar #post acosf #nesta archeron #nesta and gwyn #acotar fanfiction

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angelicmichael · 3 years ago

Text

living after midnight

Brooke Thompson x Montana Duke

Summary: Brooke and Montana get a bit intoxicated and get a bit carried away while going night swimming. Based off this post I made a week ago hehe

Words: 3.1k+

Warnings: mentions of alcohol and also vague mentions of weed, stripping (no nudity tho LOL), lotssss of sexual tension, lots of fluff, slowburn, friends to lovers, weird yearning angst for like .02 seconds lmao

A/N: Hey guys, sorry if this is random but I got random inspo for brotana so.. here this is lmao. Believe it or not I did try to make this under 1k words but.. I got carried away so I’m sorry that’s it’s long 😭. But the fic happens sometime after Brooke and Montana meet but before any camp redwood fuckery happens lmao. Anyway I hope y’all like this!! This is also probably the fastest I’ve ever written a fic so I hope it’s atleast decent haha. Anyway enjoy <3

A gentle breeze danced against Brookes exposed skin. The midnight air cold on its own regard but it seemed to blend perfectly with the extensive heat that radiated from the bonfire she sat in front of.

The night was entirely pitch black. The moon was vacant from the sky, leaving the only source of light to come from the giant fire that sat at Brookes shoes.

It was admittedly a bit unsettling being in almost the total darkness, especially with how many girls had recently gone missing in L.A as of late but the beer in her system had mostly put those thoughts to rest. Plus, being with three men and Montana was also reassuring. Even if she didn’t exactly know Xavier, Chet or Ray that well but.. she knew Montana.

It was nearly impossible to forget about how they met.. in the girls locker room in the showers and well; it’s not as if things were any less weird now. Showers or not.

It’s not as if Brooke and Montana were best friends or super close, because that definitely wasnt the case; but they weren’t acquaintances either by any means. The weird tension and ‘playfulness’ that lied between them ruled out being friends.. or that’s Brooke liked to think anyway when she had one too many things to drink. Like now.

Her legs twitched a bit restlessly; content at the ambience that surrounded her but not content with her current state of being. Like how she knew she should be enjoying herself, drunk, not caring about particularly anything at all but instead all she could do was fucking care. Her thoughts were purely infiltrated with Montana and it was embarrassing, to say the least but now that she was intoxicated there was really no harm in fighting it. No matter how annoying and taunting those thoughts truly were.

After all, Why should she not think about how nice it would be to feel Montana’s hands (which she knew had to be soft and delicate) on her waist and down her back? Why should she not think about Montana’s soft lips moving against her own, a few strands of her bleached hair (which definitely had lost it softness due to excessive over bleaching) brushing up against her face accidentally?

That was a rhetorical question; because she knew exactly why she avoided those type of thoughts on a normal day to day basis. Not because it would make things awkward between them but because it was beyond fucking painful to imagine scenarios that would never happen.. Never.

The smell of the fire and the sounds of the wood crackling, which was far too dry and poorly stacked (neither Xavier, Chet or Ray could build a proper fire to save their life), helped bring Brooke out of her thoughts and bit more into reality. So did the gentle sway of the tree branches which she could see in her peripheral vision, since they were right on the cusp of a forest that cut off to a beach. Ocean waves which slowly dragged across the sand were also soothing to listen too, albeit distant over the sound of Brookes friends screaming and laughing and being heavily intoxicated over what was more than just alcohol and weed.

Brooke reached down and swiftly grabbed the beer can which was previously lodged upright in the sand. Lifting the can up to her lips and cringing and unconsciously tensing up as she swallowed until the can was nearly weightless - wiping her mouth with the back of her hand just to see-

“Montana?!” Brooke nearly yelled. Both alcohol and temporary shock making her speak way louder than what was realistically needed.

Montana, who was previously standing several feet away with the boys was suddenly seated right next to Brooke on the log with no warning. Probably having moved over while Brooke was poorly chugging the alcohol she hated.. but she couldn’t help but to notice that their thighs (as well as basically their entire sides) were touching as she tried to wipe the alcohol that had embarrassingly dripped down her front in a frenzy.

Chet and Xavier looked back at them from a few feet away as they smoked what Brooke knew had to be a joint. Briefly laughing and giving the pair of women an amused glance before turning around and immersing themselves in whatever conversation they were previously having.

Brooke sheepishly met Montana’s gaze, feeling her cheeks grow nearly unbearably hot at the awareness that she was now being watched.. studied almost.

“Sorry,” Brooke added with a giggle.

Montana responded with a slight upturn of her lips; amused with Brookes actions not because she found it necessarily funny or pitiful, but for the sole reason that.. it was cute and endearing that Brooke couldn’t really hold her alcohol for shit.

It made her unique and different from everyone else Montana acquainted herself with. People that Montana had to basically learn to keep up with.. but Brooke on the other hand was different.. She was a breath of fresh air, and that’s why Montana assumed she was so attracted to her (besides her looks, of course).

Montana tried her best to ignore and not be bothered by the fact that Brooke was wasting perfectly good alcohol by wiping it off herself (alcohol that Montana wouldn’t necessarily mind licking off Brookes lips.. or her neck, or really anywhere else off of her). Instead focusing on how suffocated she felt here.

It wasn’t necessarily anyone’s fault. After all; she loved Chet, Xavier and Ray dearly but.. they were also undoubtedly preventing anything from happening between her and Brooke.. and that needed to change.

Montana huffed. Her deep brown eyes quickly flickering at the flame and then Brooke before speaking.

“Im bored,” she announced. Suddenly standing up and not letting her eyes break the gaze she suddenly held with Brooke.

Brooke responded with a simple hum. Her jaw quickly dropping once she noticed that Montana’s bright red nails quickly darted down under her own shirt. Hooking the material under her fingertips before quickly raising the shirt up and over her head. Throwing it back somewhere behind the log Brooke still sat on.. somewhere where Brooke was almost certain Montana wouldn’t be able to locate later.. which was probably done on purpose.

Brookes jaw still stayed ajar when she saw Montana’s hands automatically fly down to the small jean shorts she was wearing. She could do nothing but watch as she saw the button unhook- wait.. what exactly was happening?

“Montana, what are you doing?” Brooke asked with a laugh.

Brooke tried her best to fight the urge to look at her friend who was now well.. in her bra and underwear, out of what she was trying to convince herself was respect, but it wasn’t working. She knew for a fact her cheeks had to burnt bright fucking red; she tried to laugh off the feeling but Montana still stared.. her smile slowly growing wider until sudden laughter momentarily broke the tension again.

Brooke and Montana both looked behind them just to find the boys laughing and whooping as well at Montana’s sudden lack of clothes.

Brooke smiled back at them but it only lasted a second before she found herself overtaken with a emotion she never really felt around Montana before.. was it jealousy?

Just the sight of them staring at Montana (who obviously didn’t give a fuck, or was thriving off the attention more than anything) was enough to make Brooke stand up.

“Go swimming with me?” Brooke suddenly proposed. More than certain that her sudden impulsivity was coming from the alcohol more than anything.. it had to be, right?

Brooke looked Montana in the eyes again as she watched the other woman’s expression suddenly change at her words; looking utterly shocked and.. maybe a bit thrilled.

“You want to go swimming?” Montana nearly sneered, her tone reeked off utter disbelief, “and what are you gonna wear?”

Brooke laughed at what the other woman was implying. Her dark brown eyes slipped down to admire the rest of Montana’s body that she dared not to look at previously. Only looking for a second at the matching cherry red set that Montana wore. A bra which was most definitely too tight and cut a bit small, along with a thong with sat a bit high on her hips which only accentuated her figure even further.

She didn’t have time to think; her eyes darting back up to meet Montana’s which she knew were watching her.

“I’m not going naked-“

“You don’t have too. It’s not like their gonna see us anyway once we get away from the fire. Here.”

They both spoke in hushed whispers. Weirdly paranoid that maybe the boys would overhear and wanna join which- was something they both clearly didn’t want, although unspoken.

The distance between them was minimal enough due to alcohol (and other substances in Montana’s case) running high in their systems. Making personal space something that was now nonexistent.

Montana extended her hand out to Brooke to take. She quickly grabbed her hand, hoping desperately it wasn’t sweaty from how close they were to the fire and also.. just from the situation she was bound to find herself in. But due to Montana’s reaction (or lack thereof) she knew she had nothing to worry about.. sweaty palms or not, she knew Montana wouldn’t judge her. No matter how insane the circumstance; Brooke always felt safe around Montana. That’s why she supposed she was currently following her into the pitch black - her vision getting more and more sparse as they walked away from the fire and into some nearby trees that framed the beach..

“Are you sure they can’t see me?” Brooke asked, trying her best to look through the trees and see if any of her friends happened to be looking but - she couldn’t really make out anything besides the subtle outline of her surroundings which included Montana.

“They can’t see you. Relax,” Montana said with a giggle. “Now do I need to help you undress? Your taking forever and I’m hot- and it’s not like I haven’t seen you wearing less-“

Brooke tried her best to look offended and shocked by her reference to how they met. She knew that normally with nothing in her system she would’ve easily sidestepped Montana’s ruthless flirting but.. something felt different about tonight. After all; why should she keep trying so hard to resist something they both felt? And it wasn’t like anyone could see them anyway..

Brooke quickly turned her head to where she knew Montana was and stepped closer until they were barely a foot apart. Her feet nearly stumbled on Montana’s from the proximity; biting her lip to prevent herself from stupidly giggling once she felt hot breath on her cheek.

She grabbed Montana’s hands which first held hers back limply but briefly held hers tighter before Brooke directed her hands on her shirt.

“Take it off,” Brooke uttered. Her voice barely audible but not quite loud enough to be discerned as a whisper.

Montana didn’t hesitate as she quickly took Brookes shirt off, barely feeling the soft fabric against her fingertips before she quickly threw it behind them into the forest. Montana didn’t wait for Brooke to say anything before her fingers were quickly undoing the button and the zipper of her jean shorts which were only thrown somewhere in the forest as well (hopefully near her shirt.. Brooke could only hope).

Brooke tried her best to not look bothered by her sudden lack of clothes but she also knew that was purely idiotic since they were in the pitch black.

Nevertheless she looked down at herself, trying to discern whether her figure was actually visible or not but Montana grabbed her hand again. Making her gaze snap upward as she led her out. She knew they were going out to the water now; the sand under her feet and the fire now visible from a distance as they continued to go out. The sand becoming more grainy and nearly painful to step on as they got closer to the water.

Brooke quickly looked over her shoulder before she took the first step in - still holding onto Montana’s hand. She quickly glanced to see if any of the men they had came with were watching but surely enough they were still talking and laughing as if they didn’t even notice they had gone missing.. and they probably hadn’t given how fucked up they were.

Perfect.

She continued to hold onto Montana’s hand as she went further and further into the water; not phased by the sudden coolness she felt as the water wrapped around her legs.. submerging her further and further until they both finally stopped. The water lapping around Brookes waist, and well, nearly Montana’s chest since she was a few inches shorter than Brooke.

The water seemed to be a perfect temperature despite them being at the ocean; and the rocks had since disappeared under their feet and changed back into soft sand which also made the current situation a bit more enjoyable.

Brooke tilted her head back a bit, worried momentarily that her hair might get wet but it was worth it. It was absolutely breathtaking.

The night sky which previously looked completely black and void of any light whatsoever was now painted with what looked to be a million stars.

“Do you see this?” Brooke asked.

“What, the stars?” Montana answered, her voice holding a bit of amusement to it and almost as if she was trying to hold back a laugh.

“Yeah,” Brooke affirmed with a nod. Still keeping her gaze fixated to the night sky.

“What about them?” Montana asked.

The water rippled a bit as Montana started to a take a few steps closer towards Brooke, dissatisfied at the distance between them.

“Nothing. I just- it’s beautiful. I never do things like this,” Brooke responded, tilting her head down to make eye contact with Montana as she finished her sentence.

Montana smirked.

“Never?” She asked with a laugh. “C'mon. I’m not wet enough, let’s go deeper.”

Before Brooke could protest, Montana grabbed both of her hands and pulled her deeper in the water.

“But I didn’t bring a towel!”

“Your not gonna need one. We can warm up by the fire, remember?”

They continued to keep wading until the water almost spilled over Montana’s shoulders. The water barely touching Brookes collarbones but getting some of her hair wet regardless.

She hesitantly let go of the other woman’s hand in the water, intent on using her hand to help her gain balance since a few rocks were still on the ocean ground but - the exact opposite happened.

Brooke didn’t even have time to gasp or scream before her left foot quickly slid on a random rock that just.. of course.. had to fucking be there. Her hands quickly landed on Montana’s shoulders; the rest of her body accidentally falling into the other woman’s but she only felt Montana’s hands suddenly grab gently at her back. Holding her in place against her body.

Brookes eyes instinctively closed shut but when she slowly opened them and reluctantly lifted her head higher up (silently cursing herself for accidentally getting her hair almost entirely wet now) she noticed.. how close they were to each other.

Her nose was only centimeters away from Montana's shoulder.. which meant-

“Are you okay?” Montana asked softly, speaking unintentionally right next to her ear which made a shiver run up Brookes spine.

“Mhm,” Brooke responded.

She rose her head up further - her vision fully black now due to closing her eyes so tightly and being disoriented from slipping, but she knew from hearing Montana’s voice that she had to be close. Very close.

Moving her head a bit to the left.. almost microscopically, not wanting whatever ‘this’ was to necessarily be clumsy but she knew she didn’t necessarily have a choice in the dark.

“What are you doing?” Montana continued to whisper.

Brooke couldn’t help but to smile and let out a giggle that made her sound far more drunk than she actually was. She knew exactly where Montana’s lips were now due to her speaking. Thank god.

“You’ll see.”

Brooke leaned in slowly. Briefly bumping noses before catching Montana’s lips with her own. The feeling so heavenly and overdue - not enough but simultaneously far too much to take in all at once.

The taste of dull, gut wrenching beer started to flood her mouth. It was all that Montana basically tasted like.. that and a bit like smoke but Brooke didn’t mind. If anything it made the feelings of infatuation temporarily stronger. Brookes nails started to pierce the other woman’s back; wanting nothing more than to just have.. more. More of Montana; her taste, her hands, her touch.. the feeling was both pathetic but impossible to fight any longer.

The mere thought that this was something she was previously holding herself back from having was almost laughable but- that would be something to think about for another time.

Montana’s lips softly broke from hers.

“Eager.. aren’t you?” She teased.

Brookes eyes still refused to adjust but she knew Montana had to be grinning.

“Sorry.. I just-“

“Don’t be sorry. You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” Montana said lowly.

Montana suddenly leaned in with no warning. Her hands softly grabbed Brookes shoulders; leaning in to pull her bottom lip with her teeth.

After she let go, the feeling to kiss her again was strong but.. she thought of something better. The thrill of the chase was something Brooke always enjoyed, after all.

Brooke took a few steps back suddenly before quickly heading for the shore. Not really going that fast at all due to the resistance of the water pushing up against her legs but she laughed regardless.

She could hear Montana laughing and calling her a jerk in the distance but it was all just noise at this point. Her voice, the water rushing, the fire and their friends (which grew gradually louder as she approached) all started to sound the same.

Maybe the alcohol was finally kicking in.

Even though Brooke definitely felt tipsy, she still felt nervous the closer she got from being fully submerged out of the water. Maybe it was due to the fact she wasn’t certain what was going to happen at the fire, or if their friends had even heard anything but she knew atleast now she would have Montana. Exactly how she had Montana was something to be determined later, but as she finally stepped out and away from the nearly black ocean waves and ran up to the fire to go wait for Montana - she was comforted by the thought that things would now never be the same and forever would be different between the two of them.

Which had to be a good thing; right?

Taglist: @michaellangdonstanaccount @langdonsexual @jimmason @blakescoven @dark-mei-rose @9layerdevilfoodcake @prophecy-is-inevitable @matildaofoz @beautyiswithinchaos @frenchlangdon @king-with-no-crovvn @melodylangdon @littledemondani @celestialrequiem @sojournmichael @ritualmichael @waitinvain @twilightzone24

Let me know if u would like to be added or removed to the taglist hehe

#brooke x montana #brooke thompson x montana duke #brotana #ahs fanfiction #ahs fanfic #my fic #will post to ao3 soon 😌#did I procrastinate my Andy fic to write this?? maybe lmao #I’m almost done w my Andy fic tho I swear 😭#i know I never talk about brotana so this is probably random asf but I just wanted to write something wlw 😌

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oligbia · 4 years ago

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Hey Liv, how are you?

I’ve been feeling a little down lately, so I wanted to request a scenario with Yoosung, where he takes the initiative, slowly heating things up with MC... (Pre-dating,, or really new in the relationship if possible <3)

Please ignore it if you don’t feel like doing it!! Thank you so so much in advance 💐❤️

Yoosung X Reader

Spicy SFW, 16+ only

Im really sorry you're not feeling the best, hun. If you need anything im here <3

Personally im not vibing myself, but writing this was really nice, so thank you for the request

If Yoosung Kim was a font, he would be Calibri. Typical, not bold, not quite fancy enough to be a serif font. He was the default, the basic, the font you use when your essay is due in forty minutes and you don’t have time to bother with formatting. He wasn’t special.

Maybe he wasn’t special, but he was a mess. He lived in his tiny apartment, rarely cooked a proper meal, wasting his life away playing a video game. His life was moving in slow motion, purpose lacking after the death of his cousin. He missed her.

She would be Playfair Display, if she was a font. She was elegant, perfect, and beautiful. She was the kind of font you picked if you had done the essay days before it was due and wanted to look beautiful, the font an extension of elegant ideas.

Fonts. . . why was he so caught up on fonts? He had an essay due. That's why he was in the computer lab between classes, trying to write an essay. He didn’t have much time, but he had to write this essay. But, he was so caught up on the fonts. He couldn’t pick one, couldn't settle on one. It was a such an arbitrary decision, the font won't save his essay, won't save his grade, won't pick his major, won't fix his life, it wouldn’t bring her back, it wouldn't make V stop lying-

Tears pricked up at the edges of his eyes, threatening to pour over. He sniffled, rubbing his face with his sleeve. It was midnight, the school computer lab was only going to be open for a few more hours, but Yoosung knew if he didn’t write this essay now he would never right it, and if he never wrote it he would fail again, and Jumin and Jaehee would pressure him about the future, and Jumin would call his mom again, and Yoosung would fail college, and he would never have a future because there isn’t a future in gaming.-

“Times New Roman.”

Yoosung spun his head around, unaware that you had been standing behind him. “The assignment is supposed to be in Times New Roman- you are from my 10am philosophy class, right?”

Having a better view of you now, he did faintly remember you. He had attended class sporadically, not having much interest in it when he was there. You sat towards the front of the class, he had only seen you a handful of times from his seat in the back.

He nodded, “Yea… I’m not really sure what I’ll write about. I haven't really paid much attention.” A small blush crept over his face as he played with his fingers, embarrassed.

“I figured as much, you aren’t there very often. Do you need help? We have a few hours before the computer lab closes.”

Yoosung looked up at you, basking in the warmth of your smile. If you were a font, you would have been Indie Flower. He didn’t know you that well yet but he knew you were soft, you were kind, you were cute. He nodded. “Honestly, yea I think I do.” Yoosung gulped, realizing he had the chance to be bold, to be something. “Do you accept payment in food?”

And so there the two of you were, sitting on the computer lab floor, boxes of takeout scattered on the floor around you. He watched as your smile somehow grew even brighter as your laughed, nose scrunched up. He didn’t realize how funny he was, he was just telling you about the one time Saeyoung convinced him that he had to drink chocolate milk after he had all that coffee.

“I’m sorry to laugh, I can’t imagine how awful that was.”

He giggled nervously. “Yea- yea it was pretty bad.”

Your eyes landed on his. You had been here with him for a few hours now, but had yet to make the realization that his eyes were a soft lavender color. You noticed the deep brown roots springing up in his blonde hair. His lashes were long and curled at the ends.

Yoosung was very much aware of how close you were to him now. You had leaned in closer to him subconsciously, observing him. His face was warm, palms a little sweaty.

“You bleach your hair.”

Yoosung blinked. “I always liked blond hair. My family is blonde.

You nodded. “I think its pretty. You're pretty, Yoosung.”

And like that, he kissed you. He didn’t think about it, he just did it. His lips were soft, he tasted like the sweet and sour chicken he had for dinner, but you didn’t mind. Your hands held onto the collar of his shirt, his hands resting on your waste. The kiss, innocent and pure, ended almost as soon as it started. He pulled away from you, face red with embarrassment, eyes wide. His hands, however, remained gently to your sides.

“I’m so sorry!” His voice was laced with panic and fluster. He really hadn’t thought about it first, he just went for it. That's what Zen always said to do, right?

You giggled, face also red. “It’s alright, Yoosung. I promise.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

He did it again. He just kissed you. He didn’t overthink it, he didn’t ask questions. He just did it. And it was amazing. Your hands rested more comfortably on his neck now, fingers lost in this long, bleached blond, locks. He pulled you closer to him, your body mere centimeters from his. This kiss wasn’t like the last one. It was less innocent, more desperate. His lips kissed yours roughly, his teeth grazing your bottom lip while your tongue brushed against his. It was almost too much for him, almost. The butterflies in his stomach were pushing up into his lungs, his breath removed from his lungs. He swore if there was a Heaven, the angels sang for you two. He had only met you hours before, but he knew you were special. You were so valuable. You were so kind, offering to help him write an essay for a class he rarely attended.

Needless to say, he will likely be returning to that class.

You pulled away from him, face flushed as you panted. You pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his smile, pressing your forehead against him. You swore you could see stars in his eyes. He reminded you of a Golden Retriever puppy, so excited and full of energy.

“Go on a date with me. A real date.” Yoosung’s breath was shaky and not much more than a whisper.

You giggled. “Alright. Pick me up this weekend?”

Yoosung nodded, his hypothetical tail wagging as his smile grew. You smiled, pulling him into a hug.

#mystic messenger #yoosung #yoosung kim #yoosung mystic messenger #yoosung mysmess #yoosung x reader #yoosung mm #mysme yoosung #yoosung x mc

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janekfan · 4 years ago

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ive been Searching and Craving for any scenario/canon divergent au where jon and tim make up because jon shows tim thats hes just as much a victim as anyone else and tim is just like... ah. so we're both assholes. and jon insists that tim didnt do anything wrong (and obviously its all very whumpy and hurt/comforty). basically just... tim and jon making up because tim wants to after jon tugs at his heartstrings enough (because im a sucker for the whole "whatve i done" bit)

Here we go!! Sorry these are taking so long but I’m still working on prompts!!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26972698/chapters/67878991#workskin

Too Much Chapter 2!

Watching Martin remove the evidence of panic by carefully, slowly, swiping a damp flannel over Jon’s skin, Tim continued holding the cold pack in place. The man between them made a sound, nondescript, shifting enough that his lips parted with a soft sigh as he settled.

“He’s made a right mess of these.” Martin lamented, gingerly lifting one hand to examine the heavy bandages, soiled with fresh blood and coming undone. Not altogether certain he wanted to know what was hidden away beneath, Tim stayed silent. “Would you mind fetching the first aid kit while I get rid of these?” He used the time away to take a deep breath, attempting to gather his rampant thoughts now that he was roped into fixing up their boss. There was always the possibility of giving him the kit and hightailing it out of that place and never setting foot near document storage again but before he realized what he’d done he’d accumulated other supplies he figured they might need and the relief in Martin’s eyes when he slipped back into the room was palpable. Jon’s hands were bare, blisters laid over blisters, broken and bleeding sluggishly from torn welts, one palm layered over with a nasty burn. Tim couldn’t help the noise torn from his throat in sympathy as the walls he’d built around himself began to crumble under the weight of Jon’s wounds--and he wasn’t even the one to bear them! Jon had acquired more scars, more shadows in the gaunt hollows carved into his body by his bones since Prentiss. It was like laying eyes on a stranger, or opening his own and finally seeing what his negligent ignorance had truly cost.

Were these marks, this pain, not proof that Jon had every right to be scared? Paranoid? To suspect them? When it was his own “friends” raising hands violently against him?

“What. Martin, what happened?” He accepted the water, easing Jon’s arm over the edge of the bed and doing Tim the kindness of not reminding him that he’d never cared to know before.

“I couldn’t tell you what caused most of this, but you know. Daisy.” He swallowed, eyes narrowing as he dabbed away the worst of the scarlet slicking his skin and Tim saw red at the reminder. How dare she touch him. “Hush now, you’re alright.” Jon’s arm twitched, an aborted attempt to tug his hand away from Martin’s surely painful ministrations. “Just cleaning these up.”

“Hnn…” Saltwater-soaked lashes fluttered and damn his body’s reactions but Tim was at his side on the cot before he could blink and wholly unsure of what to do now that he was there, settling on running fingers through tangled curls, teasing out the knots as Martin worked. Clouded and slightly crossed, Jon’s glazed brown eyes peered up at him, through him, blinking slow, and Tim could feel the heat of his fever under his palms.

“Hey, bud.” Surprising himself with his own softness, Tim continued combing through his hair. “Close your eyes, boss. Marto’s fixing you right up.”

“Hur’s.” Badly slurred and tinged with vulnerability he wasn’t used to anymore, Jon’s voice sent a chill racing up Tim’s spine.

“I know.” He said anyway. “It won’t soon.” Trust and exhaustion won out, dragging bruised lids closed. “Martin.” Tim didn’t look up, tracing silver strands, so many, with the fingertips. “I would like to know. Please.”

Martin hummed, finished up the first hand, the worst hand, and cradled it over Jon’s stomach in a poor attempt at elevation before starting on the next one.

“I haven’t gotten much out of Jon--not because he won’t tell me!” He amended, remembering the promise Jon had made to be honest with them and clearly worried it would make Tim angry again if he thought he was keeping secrets. “He’s just. I mean.”

“I understand.” After leaving Elias’ office, whatever tenacity and fortitude Jon managed to scrape together after his ordeal with Daisy and Basira had faded quickly. Even Tim wasn’t able to ignore how bad off he was, more along the lines of being unable to explain than lacking any desire.

“I know she, she hit him. He’s bruised all over. Clocked him with her gun I assume, to leave him concussed--I still can’t believe I didn’t notice sooner.”

“It’s alright. We’ve all been. Preoccupied.” Some of them only with themselves.

“He was filthy, covered in dirt and I think bl’blood? Not his. Or, not all of it I think.” Martin rubbed his own neck thoughtfully, tracing a path that mirrored the red grin carving up Jon’s throat. “I think.” He looked into Tim’s eyes, haunted. “I, I overheard them saying he’d been made to d’dig a grave.”

“His grave.” There was no real proof, not yet. But it felt right. And Tim felt sick. “His hands.”

“The burn is bad, I don’t know how he got it.” A crease formed between Martin’s knit brows. “I. Tim.” He sighed. “You’ve been so furious with him.” He dragged both hands down his face. “Jon’s doing his best. Please, you have to believe that.”

“I think I’m beginning to.” He’d yet to stop his detangling. Jon liked when people he trusted played with his hair, especially when he wasn’t feeling well. Unbidden and effervescent, memories rose to the surface of Tim’s mind, each a different moment, beads of time strung on delicate silk strands. Sasha. Sasha, whose true face, true voice, had been written over and worn, her hands on Jon’s shoulders, working out the tension he carried there despite his complaints. Tim himself draping a cardigan over him where he slumped forward on his desk in Research when he succumbed to sleep. A rare moment at someone’s apartment, Jon three drinks in, flushed bright red and ridiculous, throwing himself into Tim’s lap and nuzzling his stomach until he got what he wanted; hands in his hair, on his back, honest to god cuddles. The embarrassment in the morning would paint him vivid with blush and he would accept the painkillers and tea with a shy grin.

That Jon was still in there.

Right?

For the first time in his career Tim chose to come into work early, heading immediately to doc storage to find Jon curled up against Martin, ruddy face squished against his chest and arm slung over his waist as though he’d recently been clinging there.

And if this had been another time, another universe, he would have teased them both, but the shadows under their eyes were beginning to match.

“We had a hard night.” Martin yawned hugely and Tim caught a quick glimpse of glassy brown at the movement but Jon passed out again in the next second. “Nightmares. You remember Crew?” Tim nodded. “Explains the vertigo. He’s going to want to work.” Martin’s palm found its way to the back of Jon’s head, tucked him under his chin as he exhaled, slow and measured.

“And you want him to rest.”

“He won’t.”

He didn’t.

But the dizziness kept him in his office for the most part and Tim helped keep an eye on him, checking up regularly, awkwardly. It was almost like old times. Except Jon was careful not to speak. Not now that he might force answers out of someone. Not now that he might be hurt because of it. Jon was smart. He tried to remember the things he learned because he only seemed to learn the hard way and right now he was trying to figure out Tim while Tim was trying to figure out himself, wary of the change towards him, confused when instead of lashing out, he asked if he needed anything.

“N’no, thank you, Tim.”

“It’s no trouble.” But it was physically painful to watch the gears turn as Jon balanced the possibility of pissing him off with how uncomfortable he was in this situation. “I’ll check back later, yeah?”

“Uh. Y’yeah. Yes. I mean, yes.” Nervously, he shifted between folders. “Of c’course.”

The day dragged and Jon’s fever and groggy exhaustion lingered, kept barely in check by Martin plying him with the painkillers and fever reducers because he refused A&E. It was frustrating, even if he was looking somewhat improved. When they caught him asleep it was often in the throes of a taxing nightmare. He was a shadow in his attempts to avoid them all, to focus on work, and now that Tim was paying attention he didn’t like how Basira was so cold, how Daisy made Jon flinch on purpose, how Melanie went out of her way to collide with him in the narrow hallways. How he was slight enough, unsteady enough that it sent him into the wall.

How he did nothing about it except murmur apologies and move past them as quick as he could.

Jon was back to pushing himself too hard, not bothering to ask for help because he’d never gotten any before so it wasn’t worth bothering with it now. He was alone. Deserted by everyone except for Martin--and oh the way his expression lit up at the sight of him. How soft his voice became when he thanked him for the tea. Tim knew Martin couldn’t see it yet, or wouldn’t let himself realize, but Jon was taken with him. Smitten. And already believed beyond a doubt that he had no worth. As prickly as Jon could be there was so much love in him just vying for a way out.

How could Tim have forgotten that?

Tim paced the length of the archives three times before heading back to check on Jon, alarmed when the office was empty. Worry, both familiar and unfamiliar, twined its way around his heart. He'd watched as the afternoon hours slipped by and Jon became worse and Tim didn’t bother asking anyone he came across; they didn’t care, he wasn’t supposed to care. But there weren’t many places Jon would go and Tim found him in the breakroom stabilizing himself on the sink. He didn’t react, didn’t turn, didn’t seem to know anyone was behind him, and Tim could make out shivery, deliberate breaths. Jon let go, lifting a hand dazedly to his forehead and staggering backwards such that Tim had to steady him.

“Whoa there, Boss.” Softly, quietly, Tim knew his head was still pounding more often than not no matter how adamant his denial. It didn’t stop Jon from flinching like he’d been struck or attempting to whirl around and only making it all that much worse as eyes filled with fear rolled back into his head and Tim had to catch him outright, lowering him to the floor and pillowing his shoulders in his lap. Unconsciously, he laid a palm over his overwarm forehead, dragging fingers back through damp strands rhythmically and wondering how he’d react to waking up with Tim staring down at him. They were dancing around each other, or at least Tim was. Jon couldn’t do much more than sit at his desk in what amounted to pyjamas and pretend to work in an attempt to wedge some normalcy back into his life.

“What happened?” At least now Martin’s inquiry wasn’t accusatory as he knelt beside them and checked over Jon himself. “How long?”

“Minute. Maybe two? He, uh. I surprised him and when he turned…” he trailed off, gesturing with a sigh.

“Ma’tin…” nothing more than a small breath of awareness in recognition of his voice, eyes still closed.

“You should be at your desk.” Lightly scolding.

“Nn...was col’...tea…” Tim met Martin’s eyes with worry at the barely coherent jumble of syllables caught on his sluggish tongue and he held up a hand, signaling him to wait.

“What’re we going to do with you, hm?”

“...Dunno…” He’d failed to understand the gentle ribbing for what it was, instead answering honestly, tearfully, and it tugged on Tim’s heartstrings. Martin chuckled kindly to ease the sting, moving forward to lift his weight off from Tim and standing still to let Jon wind a hand loosely into his jumper, hanging on for dear life with a gasp.

“You sound tired.”

“Mmyeah...tire’...” And that discordant admission alone was enough to cause alarm, doubly so when his body lost all rigidity in Martin’s hold.

“Martin--”

“Shh, Tim. He’s alright.” Protectiveness urged Tim to follow them back to document storage. Concern made him sit down before Martin asked. “Stay with him? I don’t want him to forget and wander off again. I’m gonna get that tea and something for the fever.” Tim supported his chin with a hand, elbow digging sharply into the top of his knee, and watched Jon sleep. With his eyes, he traced invisible constellations over the worm scars dotting his skin and connected their lines to the ink dark splash of lashes twitching as he dreamed. “What’re you thinking about?”

“How much running I’ve been doing.”

“Mm.”

“How much easier it was to ignore all this if I just hated Jon instead. Blamed him for it.” He lifted his fingers in a bitter and general indication of their unreasonably bad situation. “He’s made mistakes. We all have. And his are the only ones I’m not willing to forgive.” Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes, stung. “Why is that?” His skin blushed with heat when his voice broke on a sob and before Martin could speak they were interrupted.

“Head’spounding…” He could barely keep his eyes open.

“Ah, I’m sorry, love, I know, here,” he was like a rag doll when Martin lifted him. “This’ll help.” Tim watched the ease with which Martin navigated Jon. All sweet and kind, steadying his hands when they proved too shaky to hold the cup, testing his temperature with the inside of his wrist when Jon was distracted with swallowing down the medicine.

“Shouldn’t do this.” Whispered, lost and undone, as Martin tucked him in, gripping back tightly when Jon grew dizzy with the change. “M’sorry.”

“You say that too often, Boss.”

“Hush, both of you.” To Jon, “we can all talk later, when you’re feeling better. It’s okay to need help. It’s okay to rest.” And while he didn’t look convinced, he was helpless against the drag of that heavy, insistent tide of exhaustion.

“Never liked to owe people, our Jon.” Martin sighed, frustrated.

“It’s not a transaction. I wish he’d trust that I only want to help.” Tim snickered ruefully as Martin tucked stray salt and pepper strands behind Jon’s ears.

“He’s always been suspicious of decency.”

“That’s not right.” There was a lot wrong with it, and far too much to solve at this moment.

“You look knackered, Martin. Go home.” He needed caring for after keeping them all together like he’d done. “I’ve got it from here.”

“I don’t want to ask that of you.”

“You’re not asking, Marto.”

“Tim--”

“I need to. I. I need to do this.”

Tim was worried that the only reason Martin left him here alone was because he was too tired to spend another night here keeping an eye on the both of them. He only had himself to blame when it came to the loss of trust.

It was no secret his dislike of Jon.

He hadn’t forgotten his treatment of him just the other day. Yanking him up off the ground and shouting at him, blaming him for his confusion and unsteadiness, for worrying Martin while he’d been the one ill and frightened and unmoored on the dusty floor. A mournful cry jolted him out of his musings, and the nightmare didn’t sound kind, wrenching Jon awake and leaving him panting, narrow chest heaving, eyes wide and unfocused in the dim.

“Hey.” Soft and quiet, it didn’t stop Jon from jumping in surprise, nearly swooning when he jerked his head in the direction of his voice. “Back with me?”

“Tim.” Real surprise, he blinked hard, trying to clear his bleary vision. “Yeah. S’sorry.” Jon offered him a sheepish quirk of his lips.

“I’m the one who needs to apologize, Jon.” He swallowed thickly and Tim could hear the click in his throat, somewhere behind the bandage hiding that yawning red grin from sight.

“Wh’what?”

“I’ve treated you unfairly.”

“No, no, Tim. You. You had every right! I was out of line and suspected the worst with no proof and didn’t trust yo--” Jon was trying to get up, ignoring how it had to hurt, and when Tim made to stop him, he flinched in real fear and backed himself into the corner. “S’sorry. I. It’s, it isn’t you, I swear.” Guilt wrapped around Tim’s heart like a thorny vine at his stammering apologies, at the way Jon laughed at himself and scrubbed his face with the back of a bandaged hand, staring up at the ceiling as new tears pooled in his eyes. “A lot’s h’happened.” When he closed them, the damp rolled down his cheeks into the grey at his temple. “I,I,I know you don’t w’want to hear it. But I, I don’t have anything else left t’to offer and I’m so s’sorry.” Jon tucked up his knees and buried his tear-stained face in the blankets he pulled around himself. Scared and small and awaiting derision. Tim edged closer.

"Jon.” He reached out to touch and thought better of it. “I think. I think I'm ready to hear it now." Consumed by constant fear and torment, run ragged for months and months, when Jon risked glancing up at him Tim could finally look past his anger and see him. Flushed with fever, thin and drawn, bruised and beaten and burned.

But still Jon.

Still Jon, terrified of the kind of help he'd been taught by experience not to ask for. Not to accept. Not to trust. Not to need.

“No, n’no, Tim. It’s.” He sniffed, tried to offer Tim a watery smile. “M’not feeling w’well, heh. You know how I, how I am.”

“I know you don’t take care of yourself.” He continued before Jon could interrupt. “I know I’ve left you to deal with this alone.” Indeed, at the very first sign of trouble, Tim abandoned him to his own devices. “I understand why it’s been difficult to trust me.”

“Not just you.” Tim had to strain to hear him, voice tiny, wavering with misery. “It’s so hard to trust, I have to, to think about it, choose it, don’t I. Talk myself out of how a’afraid I am all the t’time. I can’t even trust myself, my words. I. They. It’s easier to not speak at all, if it can be helped. And I try. But. Tim.” Fraught, brown irises nearly swallowed by black pupil bored into him, begged him to listen, to see. “I’m a monster.”

“Jon--” He tugged at messy curls, ignoring the pain it had to cause, the spots of blood, and if Jon would let him, he would need to fix the wrappings after this. He’d folded into himself even tighter, rocking himself just slightly in an attempt at comfort.

“If everyone is saying it, it must be true. But I’m trying. I promise, Tim, I promise. I was hoping it counted for something, anything. I can’t. I.” He broke off, attempting to pull himself together, face contorted and when he noticed Tim’s stricken expression, stumbled on with half-thought out reassurances. “I, I won’t stop! T’trying, that is. I, I, I want to, to be better. I don’t want to hurt anyone. It’s not about counting, it’s about doing the right thing. Or something close to--it never seems to work out, I’m not. I keep doing the wrong things so I know--but I p’promise--and besides, D’Daisy’s watching, if you’re worried, heh.” He laughed, a little broken thing, tears glittering in his eyes. “She’ll put me d’down. If that makes you feel any better.”

And god how could he think Tim wanted that? Jon, living with the knowledge that any mistakes he made could lead to--

Hanging over his head. Just awaiting collapse.

“That’s. Jon, I don’t want her to do that.”

“Oh. Did.” Tim realized the pause was an attempt at managing his powers of compulsion. “Did you want to? Instead I mean?” Tim recoiled in horror at the genuine curiosity, the dull acceptance that they all might be waiting for their chance. Numbness flooded his fingers. And even though Tim knew Jon was trying to use the right words, the ones that would make him feel better, he was furious.

“How could you think that?!” Jon held up his raggedly bandaged hands, the blisters from digging his own grave and who knows what else hidden from view.

“I, I’m sorry, I. You’re right, that was stupid of me. I’m sorry, Tim, I’m sorry, I--” Tim cut him off by sweeping him into an embrace, pressing his face into his shoulder. He was little more than bones rattling around in a scarred and ruined skin, shaking in his arms, his own held away, stiff. Dear lord, what had he done? “T’Tim? I, I’m sorry I’ve upset you.”

“Stop it, Jon.” And he collapsed, spent from his outpouring, breath loud in Tim’s ear. “Just stop.” Tentative, Jon wrapped him up in return. “I’m going to do better.”

“You don’t--”

“I do. And I am.” Damp soaked into his sleeve despite the silence with which Jon sobbed, little more than uneven, ardent gasping as they clung to each other.

“B’but.” He pressed closer, starved for it. “I.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ve been so afraid.” Murmured against his shirt, Tim could feel the shapes of his words, the trembling of his lips.

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you. You mean. If, if you--I couldn’t stand it. If it wasn’t real.” Desperately, he whispered, thick with tears. “Don’t think I’d survive losing you again.” Too much loss. Too much all around and not one time had Tim thought about who he still had.

“I’m going to help you.” Tim realized then he’d been crying as well. “Like I should have from the start of this mess.” Gently, he pulled him away, took his damaged hands. “Let me get these fixed up. If Martin sees them, he’ll have both our heads on pikes.” For a moment, Tim was worried it was too soon, that Jon would need to hide this vulnerability from him, and he held his breath, until he nodded, just once.

It would take time, but they’d made a start.

#TMA #the magnus archives #tim stoker #jon sims #martin blackwood #pining #mending fences #sick #fever #injuries #fears #blood

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jjbabyouterbanks · 5 years ago

Text

Dessert (John b x Reader)

🌺 I don’t own the gif but couldn’t find owner! So all credit goes to the owner!🌺

Summary: John b eats you out after having dinner with your family.

Requested: Yes by anonymous. ‘Pls I need an imagine or blurb about John b eating you out while you tug on his hair PLEASE’

Warning: Smut!! Don’t read if you are uncomfortable with that.

I’m sorry that this took so long, I had major writers block for a couple of days. I’m sorry if whoever requested this doesn't enjoy it. Thank you for requesting and supporting me! Please ignore the grammar mistakes.

“So John b are you still getting in trouble” Your dad looks at your boyfriend and takes a mouthful of food.

“Dad! Don’t ask something like that” You felt your boyfriend’s hand go striaght on your knee under the table and rub it with his thumb.

“No sir, I haven't. Your daughter is a really great influence” he smiles looking at you.

Your parents have always hated your boyfriend, they think his trouble. Which he definitely is but you don’t mind it. When you first moved to OBX you were warned about the Pogues, told that they would just steal off you whenever they had the chance. Of course the only people telling you that were the other kooks, you hated being a Kook. Having everything handed to you, not having to work a day in your life. Definitely when there are so many people who can’t even afford food. You would much rather be be a Pogue but your parents would never let that happen. They think this whole thing with John b is just a phase. But it’s definitely not.

The whole time during dinner John b had his hand on your knee and was rubbing it with his thumb, he knew it would help make you less stressed out. Every time John b came over to your house for dinner your dad would continuously ask him 200 questions.

“You haven't had sex with my daughter have you? I don’t trust you. You'd get her pregnant on purpose so that you can get out of the cut.” Your father frowns at John b and takes a sip of his drink.

“No sir absolutely not. Your daughter doesn't want to do anything like that and I would never push her.” His right he would never push you into anything you didn’t want to do. But his lying about not having sex, you lost your virginity to him 3 months ago. But you have only had sex with him two other times since then, you're sure you would have done it more with him but you don’t really get much time alone with just the two of you.

-After Dinner-

John b left after dinner but you knew he would be waiting at your window to let him in so after saying goodnight to your family you walk into your room to see your boyfriend exactly where you thought he would be, standing at your window waiting for you to open it. You and John b would do this every time he would come over for dinner. You open the bedroom window for him to climb in. “I’m so sorry about all the questions my dad was asking you”

“It’s fine baby, I’m use to it” he says quietly as he climbs through your window.

“His so annoying. I really hate it when he...” you were cut off from saying the rest of your sentence because John b’s lips were on yours.

He pulls away and rests his forehead on yours “I said it’s fine.” he smiles but it quickly gets over taken over by a smirk “I never got desert you know?” his hands slowly travel down your body and stops at the buttons of your shorts.

“Oh really? I can go get you some?” You try to turn towards your door so you can go get him something but were quickly pulled back.

John b laughs and pulls you close to him “Baby I have another idea, how about we try something new? I'm sure you'll enjoy it”

“Uh sure? What is it?” Obviously you aren't really experienced in the whole sexually side of things so you have no idea what his hinting at.

He looks you up and down and smirks. “Well you know...” he starts blushing looking kind of embarrassed at what his about to say “What if I... you know” he looks down your body “I eat you out?”

You go bright red at the fact you didn’t catch on early. “Uh....sure I guess we can try it” you smile. Of course you want to try all different things with John b but normally you have more time to prepare when you are going to try new things. It’s scary sometimes because John b has experience with other girls and you don’t want to be horrible.

-After making out for a while-

John b is laying over the top of you and slowly starting to making his way down your body “Just tell me to stop if you get uncomfortable” He pulls down your shorts and your underwear comes down with it. He smiles and starts kissing your thigh up and down getting closer and closer to you clit but at the same time brings his thumb up to your clit and starts rubbing light circles. His touch is like magic. He looks up and smiles at you when he hears small moans leave your lips. He pulls his finger away and puts his head in-between you legs, he starts using his tongue to circle your clit.

“oh fuck....” you bite your bottom lip to try and stop yourself from being too loud. You grip onto your bedsheets and throw your head back on your pillow. He puts his hands on your thighs and spreads your legs open a little more. He starts to circle your entrance with his tongue before pushing his tongue deeply into you repeatedly. You automatically let go of the bedsheets and your hands go into his hair puling it slightly making him groan.

“John b...omg” the feeling you were feeling was indescribable. John b looks up slightly and makes eye contact with you.

“You like that baby? You moan and tug his hair slightly.

“Please don't stop” He smirks and puts his tongue back circling your entrance and pushing it in as deep as he could go. You couldn’t believe he could make you feel like this with just his tongue. He brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks on them for a few seconds and then pushes them inside of you.

Your eyes rolled back, and your toes curled up as moans left your lips, you knew you were close to your high and John b did as well. “Not yet baby girl” he smirks and puts his lips on your clit sucking softly as his fingers started to pick up speed. This made your back arch up and your legs begin to shake. He pulls out his fingers and attached his mouth back onto you.

“Im so close baby please” you grip onto his hair tighter and push him as close as he could possibly go.

“Okay baby cum for me” as soon as those words left his mouth, your body begun to shake and you started to become undone, your grip on John b’s hair gets as tight as it could. He continued until he was sure you were finished before he placed a light kiss on your clit and pulled away.

He smirked ‘Good girl’ He moved up so he was sitting beside you and placed a small kiss on your lips. “So I'm guessing you enjoyed that?” he laughed and laid back on the bed bring you into his chest.

“That was amazing, I think I'm going to have to invite you over for more family dinners” you smile and start drawing small circles on his chest with your fingers.

“Yeah the dinner was great but the dessert was definitely the best part.”

#john b obx #john b outer banks #john b x reader #john b #obx imagine #obx netflix #obx cast #obx x reader #obx john b #john b smut #obx smut #smut

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bxthharmon · 4 years ago

Text

Never Go Home Again, Pt. XIII || JJ Maybank x Reader

Words:2715

Series Warnings: violence / talking about abuse / toxic relationships / talking about nudes sex and sex tapes / drugs / underage drinking

Pt. Warnings: abuse / being a fugitive???

Series Summary: A new girl, a shoebox of old memories, a past she’s trying to forget coincide with a hotheaded, but selfless, boy. teenagers getting in way over their heads

Pt. Summary: In a desperate attempt to sort everything out, Y/N finds herself in the ones place she least expected to be

A/N: ok ok ok i promise im writing my requests oops anyway love yall send more requests cuz im always bored. Also, yall dont understand how sad i am that this is ending :( BUT started writing another series so lemme know if u wanna get tagged in that <3

Chapters linked in my masterlist.

“masterlist”

“John B, what are we doing at the police station?” JJ asked, breaking the stuffy silence that was consuming the vehicle.

“Somebody’s gotta tell them what happened.” He justified.

“Need me to come in, like, as a witness?” you asked. He shook his head.

The heavy quiet was broken by Pope, coughing like he’d inhaled chili powder. “Easy there, chief.” JJ reprimanded, and you took the blunt away from your friend. “Alright,” JJ leaned through to John B, “I’m just gonna be real with you right now,” You watched his red cap, “You might end up in the lion’s den, but you don’t go there on purpose. It’s fundamental, just like my old man always told me, you should never, ever trust cops. No matter what the circumstance is.”

“Your old man’s an abusive liar.” Kie countered.

“I agree with JJ.” Pope spoke, and you frowned, holding back the giggle in your lips as he continued, “Fuck the police.”

“You going to the dark side now?” Kie snarked.

“When was the last time the police ever helped us?” He countered.

“Peterkin looked out for me, alright?” John B interrupted, “Or tried to, at least.”

There was a moment of thick quiet before he continued.

“They need to know.”

He looked around, none of you willing to argue as he got out of the car and entered the station. You looked over to JJ, who was determinedly ignoring your stare. You wondered what the fuck was going on because last time you checked, you had been on good terms with him. You sighed, looking out the window and waiting impatiently for John B to return so that the awkward silence would end. You took a hit from the blunt you’d taken from Pope, letting the smoke swirl around in your lungs before gently blowing it out, ignoring the frustrated looks you got from the other three.

Next thing you knew, everyone was shouting and the car was accelerating, the officer trying to open the car door discarded as the shocking adrenaline rush took ahold of the speeding car. Eyes wide, you took another hit from the blunt.

“Good news for residents of the Outer Banks, Dominion Power says their underwater transmission line, which will restore power to 95% of the area, should be functional within 24 hours.”

Sirens passed, but in the hazy atmosphere of the car, no one moved, other than to make sure the car didn’t turn. Pope and Kie sat in the front, JJ and John B to your right, seats reclined as you all attempted whatever kind of rest was possible on the worried heat of the day.

“And still no arrest for the shooting death of Sheriff Susan Peterkin. The state police have issued a statement regarding a local person of interest, a juvenile from-”

Kie clicked the radio off, glancing over at the three of you in the back.

“Let’s game this out.” JJ suggested, “Maybe you guys can help, being the smart ones and all, but… who are the cops going to believe? Ward Cameron or us? So the accuser is a big shot developer, kind of lord of the island, got the governor on speed dial kind of person, and the accused…” he looked over to his friend, “is John B, who is pretty much a homeless 16-year-old boy at the moment.”

“Thanks.” came the hoarse voice of the boy across from you.

“Shit.” you muttered, running a hand over your face and sitting up straight for the first time in hours. You twisted so that your back was leaning on the back oh Kie’s seat, and you were facing the three boys.

“Okay, man, Yucatan, alright?” JJ said, swiftly avoiding your arm as you stretched, “I’m saying, that’s the only option, what other option do you have?”

“Enough with the Mexico bullshit.” John B shook his head. “Sarah’s gonna bail me out.”

“She did witness the whole thing.” Kie pointed out.

“So did I?” you reminded, “So what? She’s gonna snitch on her brother for her dick appointment of the week? No offence, bro.”

“It’s not happening.” JJ reiterated, “We’ve gotta get you off the island.”

“The ferry.” Pope said, “It’s the only way.”

“Exit stage left while you still can.” JJ added. “Before the entire island is on lockdown.”

“Get down.” You reminded him softly, and you all ducked. You reached for JJ’s hand, but his simple gesture of pulling it away made you feel embarrassed, unsure of whatever was going on between you. You turned away from him, looking out the window again.

“Sarah’s not a pogue, John B.” Pope reminded.

“Yeah, you can’t stay here, man.”

“Let’s go then.” You muttered, and Pope pulled out, driving carefully to the docks. They were crowded, and you got out before anyone could argue, thankful for even two minutes out of the suffocating atmosphere. You walked to the sign, reading the notice about the ferry closure and ripping the wanted poster off its staples. You walked back to the car, reading it as you reached the vehicle, then passing it through Pope’s window and shaking your head solemnly. You got in next to JJ as they passed the paper around, JJ making a joke.

“Okay, so the whole island’s looking for John B right now.” Pope said.

“Well at least you know how much you’re worth.” You joked, receiving a frustrated look from Kie.

“Congratulations, John B,” JJ smirked, “you’re famous.”

“We gotta get to the HMS. We need small, no running lights-” kie began to reason, but John B cut her off.

“It’s at the Chateau, Kie.”

“And I wonder if the cops have got the entire place staked out.” JJ said, voice dripping with sarcasm, “Let me think. Yeah, no, they definitely have that place locked down.”

“Hey Jay?” you nudged him, an idea forming, “Like, a couple of weeks ago, you mentioned your dad’s boat? The Ghost? Spectre?”

“The Phantom!” JJ and Pope caught on.

“He still got it?” Pope asked.

“Maybe.”

“You could get that right up the coast, no problem.” Pope said.

Bickering followed, and then the sudden realisation that Pope’s car was on the poster. Suddenly, someone was hitting the window and the car wasn’t starting and everyone was shouting. The car lurched forwards, straight into another car, and then took off, driving away as people watched, shocked.

The car sped forwards, crashing around as you all shouted for Pope to stop, his high ass was definitely not fit for driving.

“JB,” you shouted over everyone, “you need to get out.”

Pope braked, all of you thrust forwards with the force of it, and you found yourself pushing John B out of the car while JJ shouted instructions at him.

The two field tents were massive, rows of chairs on either side as swarms of people worked, talked, and typed. You wandered around for a minute or so, watching the officers interact, always being pushed back when you tried to talk to anyone. You could feel the eyes of the security team burning into you as you looked for Shoupe. Eventually, you saw him, talking to a taller man in an SBI windbreaker. You walked towards them slowly, finalising your plan in your head.

Shoupe saw you, and stepped aside from the conversation so that he was facing you, the agent turning as well, a frown forming as he took in your scruffy attire and the faint smell of JJ’s weed that was clinging to your clothes. You looked between them, “Uh, Officer Shoupe, I have some info.” You greeted.

“Who are you?” The agent interrupted, looking you over again.

“Um, I’m Y/N Y/L/N, I know John B.” you clarified, and he nodded.

“What have you got for us?” he asked, and you breathed in, and out, pinching yourself slightly.

“I saw everything on the airstrip.”

The SBI agent introduced himself as Bratcher, then they sat you down in one of the tents, letting you explain what you saw, uninterrupted, and asking questions when they saw fit. They told you that your account, while plausible, was a hard one to argue, especially against Ward Cameron, unless you had a second account to back it up.

Sarah Cameron, you thought. Talk to Sarah.

After taking your statement, they left you to sit in the field tent, shivering in the cold breeze and no coat, watching them call your dad, listening out for any relevant information you could gather.

You could feel their eyes on you, discussing what to do with the information you had for them. An officer, you couldn’t remember her name, had draped a jacket over your shoulders at some point, then led you away while the SBI agent gave a briefing.

You waited at the end of the tent, looking for anything to cease your worry and boredom.

Then you saw her. She looked as lost as you had, trying to work out who to talk to, just like you had a few hours ago. You stepped towards her.

“Sarah?” she turned to you, going to hug you, but an armed officer stepped between you, pulling you apart. “No, she’s my friend!” you struggled towards her, another officer holding her away from you, both of you shouting.

“What’s happening?” Bratcher asked, all of you stopped struggling.

“This is Sarah Cameron,” you explained, “she was there, like I said.”

He looked between you, and nodded, asking her if she was able to make a statement. They took her away, sitting her down at the other end of the tent, letting her talk. You saw Ward approaching.

“Y/N?” he frowned, and you raised your eyebrows.

“How do you know who I am?”

“Sarah’s mentioned you.” he looked around, “have you seen her?”

“Oh, is she no longer locked away in her room?” He tensed, confusion and anger contorting his features.

“How do you know about that?”

“Can’t say.” You said, “Not a great parenting strategy, just saying.”

He leapt forwards, a madness in his eyes that you’d never seen before. He grabbed you by the throat, screaming in your face while you clawed at his grip. Within seconds, other bodies were pulling him away. Your panic subsided, and you looked at Bratcher. You could use the situation to your advantage.

“See what I mean?” you yelled, pointing at him as you faced Bratcher, “He’s crazy! I told you, he attacked Big John, he’s the reason this is all happening!”

Bratcher sighed, signalling for his men to take away the older man. “I have to say, Miss Y/L/N, your story is making more sense. Two stories matching perfectly, his temper. But we talked to your father, you’re free to go, we’re almost done with Sarah.”

“What’s going to happen to John B?”

He sighed, “We’ve gotta bring him in, you understand that.”

You nodded, “I hope I shed some truth to the situation.”

You walked away, leaving the jacket on a chair as you passed, sending a reassuring smile to Sarah on your way out, you wandered the streets, finding your way to JJ’s house.

By some kind of miracle, you arrived at the same time as Kie and JJ. He was getting out of the car when he noticed you, and instead of making any move to hug you as normal, he froze.

“Look, JJ,” you sighed. “Why are you mad at me?”

You stood opposite him in his front yard, staring at the way he sighed, an odd mix of relief and defeat adorning his features. “I saw some texts, from Tyler.”

You nodded slowly. “I rejected him, if that’s what upset you. Since I met you, no guys have been the same, you know?”

His eyes pulled in slightly, as if realising that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t one-sided. “Did you sleep with him?”

“Yeah.” you glanced at the floor, “I don’t really know why. Things were weird between us and I just - I missed my old life. But it was like, the confirmation I needed.”

“What do you mean?”

“I love you.”

His jaw dropped slightly in shock, running you words over in his head, working out whether you were genuine. You began to step back, and before you could think about what had just happened, he was kissing you.

It was urgent, emotive, full of everything that you couldn’t put into words. You broke apart, still slightly shocked at the confession. You looked at his front door.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

He looked to Kie, who was pretending she hadn’t watched, and nodded apprehensively, slipping a hand into yours and leading you to the door. He opened it, leading you through into the mess. You stepped over shoes and bottles as he led you in, calling out for his dad.

You ventured into the living room, seeing his dad passed out on the sofa, a half empty bottle of something on the table next to him. “Dad, I need the keys to the Phantom.” a snore sounded, “Dad?”

You looked down, noticing the sleeping pills and picking them up, showing the bottle to the blond boy next to you. Watching him, you could practically feel the hurt resonating off him, masked by his strong resolution as he looked back at his dad. Noticing the chain around his neck, between you you found a pencil and pin to get the keys with.

You stood a couple of feet behind him as he knelt down, preparing himself.

“Well, I didn’t expect to see you.”

The voice was a murmur, almost soft, and your heart was beating in your throat. You knew what he was capable of.

“You’re back.”

This time, Luke had more clarity in his voice, and was more awake. He hadn’t noticed you yet.

“Just checkin’ in.” JJ said, backing away as the older man sat up, taking a swig from a beer bottle.

“School out already?”

“What?” JJ frowned.

“Did you ditch? It’s alright, you can tell me.”

JJ nodded slowly, “Yeah. I hit the break, you know?”

“I hated school too. My boy!” Luke chuckled. You felt intrusive, like you were standing in on a moment that wasn’t yours to see. But the moment felt intimate, hitting you where it hurt as your eyes went glassy. “You know what? Listen, hey.” he stood shakily, “Hey, look, I know I’m hard on you sometimes.” JJ hummed, fear mixing into his pain, “But sometimes I - I see your mother in you, and it gets me a little tweaked, you know?”

You wiped a tear away, the scene before you hurting more than you would like to admit. The man looked at you, and you could see JJ’s shoulders tense.

“You got a girl?” he didn’t look away from you.

“Uh, yeah, Y/N.” JJ looked over at you, worry seeping into his eyes.

“You treat my boy better than I could, okay?” You nodded slowly, more tears slipping down your face.

“Of course.” your voice broke slightly, “I love him.”

“Me too.” His head turned back to his son, “I love you, son.” He pulled JJ in, “Come here, I love you. I love you, son. I love you.”

More than anything, you wanted to call him out. Tell him that if that was true, then he wouldn’t hurt JJ like he did. But whatever this moment was, it wasn’t the right one to do so.

You could hear JJ sniffling, letting his hands find their way onto his father’s back. When he spoke, he sounded like he wanted to be stronger than he felt, his voice thick, pained, struggling. “Love you too, Dad. I’m sorry.”

“Ain’t got nothing to be sorry for.” His father muttered, the sleeping pills pulling him back out of consciousness, slowly as ever. JJ helped him down onto the sofa. “You’re a good boy.” came the murmur.

JJ let out a shaky breath, not sparing you a glance as he pulled the chain from his father’s neck and stepped away. He looked back at you, almost embarrassed to have let you see him in such a vulnerable state. He turned to leave, your voice came out as a hoarse whisper.

“JJ, you don’t always have to be strong, you know that, right?”

Tags: @tangledinsparkles @jellyfishbeansontoast @lolitstiana @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @teamnick @thoughtsofthestars @obxmxybxnk @pcterparxer @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @sxcretinhuman @alexa-playafricabytoto @angvelics @badwolf00593 @coloradogirl07 @mendesmaybank @jiaraendgame @5am-cigarette @emerald-xcd @haharudy

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mingjue · 5 years ago

Note

chuyao prompt um 👁️👁️ sharing a bed / falling asleep together on the couch?

i accidentally deleted the first version and im beyond pissed but here we go

word count: 2,978ao3 link: here :)

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

The day was a bit odd. At least to Lu Yao.

Normally, when Chuseng came over directly, especially holding a bunch of different files-- and returning to his car to get even more files, it was for a case. A case that Lu Yao would be told about pretty much immediately, and if Youning was there, she’d tell them what she knew before scrambling off to get even more information.

But today, Chuseng and Youning have purposely got him to keep out of the house, and they won’t tell him a single thing about . . . well whatever they’re doing.

“Go watch a movie or something!” Youning had huffed out, hurriedly giving him a handful of coins, “Or eat! I don’t know-- but we can’t have you in the house for a few hours.” That was the first thing he was told as soon as he got dressed. Of all days to plan on making breakfast at home.

He couldn’t reject money though.

So, Lu Yao stuffed the coins into his pocket and simply walked to the closest diner he could find. He stayed for about an hour and a half, scarfing down what food he got, getting more, and talking to the staff about pointless things. But then he got bored.

He took detours around the neighborhood, chatted with vendors he ran into, or anyone familiar to him . . . basically anything to stretch out the time before he got home. He ended up only being gone for two hours. But whatever, he wanted to know what was going on anyways.

The minute he walked into his apartment though, he was greeted with a pillow to his face.

“Go away!” Youning said, hurriedly getting up from her seat on the ground. Lu Yao scoffed after straightening up from his startle.

“I’ve been gone for two hours! Am I not allowed to stay in my own home?”

“Not for another two hours!” Youning picked up the pillow and hit him with it again-- and in retaliation he began wrestling it from her grip.

“Why not, huh?!”

“It’s a secret!”

“Since when are we keeping secrets?” Lu Yao let go of the pillow right as Youning pulled back, letting her fall back onto the loveseat. She landed with a small yelp, then let out an aggravated huff. He glanced at Chuseng.

Papers piled up on the coffee table, along with a couple of empty glasses, an opened package of cookies, pens . . .

Lu Yao stepped towards the table and snatched one of the fancier looking ones. He brought it up to his face and began turning it over in his fingers, looking at the gold trim and dark blue cap.

“Lu Yao,” Chuseng hummed before he could say anything, “If I let you have that pen, will you steer clear of the living room?” Lu Yao tilted his head in thought.

“Maybe.”

The two looked at each other. Youning groaned.

“You already have my other pen,” Chuseng said.

“I do,” Lu Yao said, “It’s run out of ink though, and the tip broke, so . . .”

“I’ll get you an ink cartridge for the other pen and pay for the repair, now go, San-Tu.”

Lu Yao grinned, which got a smile pulling at Chuseng’s lips, then hurried to his side of the apartment when Youning threw the pillow again. This time she missed.

Lu Yao managed to busy himself all the way until nightfall. And Chuseng was still sitting at the table. Youning was still here, but talking quietly in the phone-- which was the only thing keeping him from yelling out in annoyance.

“When am I getting my living room back?” Lu Yao hissed, stomping over to Chuseng, “And when are you going home?” Chuseng briefly glanced up at Lu Yao before closing the file he had been writing in, then starting to straighten out the table. Now that Lu Yao got a closer look at him, he looked pissed. He took a cautious step back.

“I’m staying until we get what we’re looking for,” Chuseng replied, voice quiet. The annoyance on his words were thick, “It may be another few hours, Youning is trying to get information from some of her people, and I still haven’t heard from mine.”

“Then let me help!”

“No, Lu Yao,” His voice was louder than anticipated, making Lu Yao blink, and Youning stammer in her conversation. Chuseng glanced between the table and Youning, “Not for this case, you can’t get involved in any way.” He continued to pick up the files and paperwork, stacking them to the side.

Lu Yao frowned a bit, “Is it mafia work?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Chuseng.”

“Damn it--” Chuseng dropped his hands on the table, “Just go, please!” Lu Yao almost flinched, then pulled back when Chuseng lifted himself up from the ground. He only went to sit on the couch, “Unless you want to talk to Mr. Bai about it personally, just let me and Youning handle this.” His voice dipped back down to just above a whisper as he spoke, but it didn’t make him feel any better.

In fact, he was a little hurt. Lu Yao bit into his cheek and furrowed his brows.

“Fine then,” He paused, “Can I at least cook something?”

“Yeah,” Chuseng ran his hands through his hair, “Go ahead,” Lu Yao nodded, but before he could get too far, Chuseng added a quick, “Sorry.”

The next time Lu Yao came into the living room, it was almost three am.

Earlier, Youning came into his room to inform him Chuseng was staying since it had gotten so late, and promptly snatched a pair of his pajama pants for him. Whatever.

What he didn’t expect though was to see Chuseng just sitting at their kitchen table, staring off at nothing, literally in the dark. He hovered at the doorway to his side of the apartment, blinking.

“Chuseng?” He said quietly. The man addressed looked over at him, then raised his brows just in the slightest.

“Hey,” He replied simply.

“What are you doing?” He asked, walking into the living room. He turned on one of the lamps, making Chuseng squint, “You okay?”

“Oh,” An awkward pause, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just can’t sleep.”

Lu Yao hummed and nodded, heading towards the kitchen.

“Why are you up?” Chuseng adds, turning his head to watch him. Lu Yao shrugged, and as he passed Chuseng, kept himself from lingering too long at his side. Chuseng was only wearing a tanktop with the blue pajama bottoms-- and the scars on his back caught his eye just for a second.

“Getting a drink,” He said that with a yawn starting at the end of his words, “You look so scary sitting in the dark like that.” Lu Yao opened one of the cabinets and got a glass out, turning to the sink to fill it with water as Chuseng chuckled.

“Sorry,” Another pause between the both of them, “. . . And sorry again, for earlier.”

“Huh?” Lu Yao grunted and brought the glass to his face, turning off the sink. He sipped at the water.

“For yelling at you.”

“You didn’t yell.”

“It felt like I did.”

Lu Yao went to the table and sat in the seat next to Chuseng, “Don’t worry about it,” He shrugged, “Didn’t bother me anyways,” Chuseng opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it, glancing away. Lu Yao took another sip from his glass.

Another bout of quiet between them. Chuseng leaned back into his chair with a sigh.

“. . . Is this new er-- case? I guess, bothering you?” Lu Yao asked hesitantly. There had to be something going on, for Chuseng to have gotten so worked up about it earlier. He looked at Lu Yao, obviously hesitating himself.

“It’s . . . hard to explain,” Chuseng began carefully, “It’s related to that, but it’s something else too.” Lu Yao nodded, the glass in hand now setting on the table while he toyed with the rim of it.

“I know you don’t want me knowing about it,” He stifled his yawn the best he could but pretty much failed, then quite awkwardly added, “But-- I am here for you. If you need someone to talk to, you know,” Chuseng laughed gently, a smile finally breaking through, “Hey-- don’t laugh, I’m not used to you telling me to go away for cases!”

Chuseng shook his head, “You’re fine, San-Tu.” Lu Yao huffed.

In his mild embarrassment, he grabbed the glass again and took another gulp-- and somehow that’s when exhaustion began pulling at his eyes. He ignored it, just for a second.

“Hey, Chuseng,” He set the glass down and slid it away from him, making Chuseng raise a brow, “Can I get a hint?”

“A hint?”

“Yeah, a hint,” Lu Yao leaned onto the table with his elbows, “About what you and Youning are dealing with right now.”

Chuseng stared at Lu Yao for a second before crossing his arms.

“Go to bed, you need sleep.”

“What? No!” Lu Yao said, “Just a hint!”

He rolled his eyes with another sigh, “Will you go to bed if I give you one?” He stammered briefly, “And not bring the topic up again?” Lu Yao tilted his head, but nodded, “. . . No, never mind.”

“Chuseng!” He whined, falling back into his chair, “It can’t be that bad!”

“It is that bad.”

“Tell me what it is, then!” Lu Yao looked at Chuseng with a pout, which got a small hum of amusement from him, “I don’t like that you two are hiding whatever this is from me-- if it’s dangerous I want to be able to help.”

“I really wish you could help,” Chuseng slowly got up from his seat, “But it would put you in danger, is that a good enough hint?”

“No!” Lu Yao scoffed, “I’m not moving until you give me an actual hint.”

“I wish you would get an actual hint,” Chuseng muttered-- Lu Yao furrowed his brows in confusion, standing with him, following him when he began to walk off.

“What does that mean?” Lu Yao jabbed at Chuseng’s back, making him flinch and turn towards him, “Hey! What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing, nothing,” He raised his hands in defeat, “Just go to bed, San-Tu.”

“There would be no point in that,” Lu Yao said, “I would just sit there awake because you won’t tell me what’s going on,” Chuseng shook his head and turned away, heading to the couch, “What if one of you die or get severely injured, and it’s something I could’ve helped prevent, huh? I’m not leaving you alone until you tell me something.”

“Then I’ll go with you.”

“What?” Lu Yao stumbled a bit.

“To your room, come on,” Chuseng turned back to him and gently gripped his arm, “You need to sleep.”

“What?” He repeated, dumbly, “You do too, Inspector.” Chuseng glanced at him.

“I’ll sleep once you’re asleep.”

Lu Yao whined, but let himself get dragged to his room.

As soon as Lu Yao hit the bed, his exhaustion came back to him all at once. He blinked heavily, trying to wake himself up a bit, to no avail.

“Chuseng,” He said, “I’m not going to sleep if you’re just standing there watching me.” That was a bit of a lie. He could honestly fall asleep right now, whether Chuseng was standing near him or not. He was tired.

“I’ll go sit then.”

“Tell me what’s going on.”

“No.”

Chuseng went to the small couches set in front of his bed, sitting down-- then leaning over to the table to grab one of the books.

“Don’t just sit there either,” Lu Yao scooted up on the bed to pout at Chuseng again.

“What do you want me to do, then?” Chuseng opened the book and flipped through a few pages, “Need me to sit next to you?”

“I want you to tell me what’s going on and then go away,” Lu Yao said, a bit of a playful tone on his words.

“Ouch,” He continued to read, not saying anything else.

Lu Yao pouted again, exaggerating it when he noticed Chuseng peak at him from the book. Chuseng was biting back a smile.

“Come here,” Lu Yao finally said. He sat up further and patted the space in front of him. Chuseng closed the book and tossed it back onto the table, standing from the couch. He did as told and came to sit in front of Lu Yao, with one leg crossed and the other hanging off the bed.

“What?”

Lu Yao looked at him for a second. He genuinely was worried. He was almost scared, even, if whatever the situation was about was really connected to the mob. The fact that not even Chuseng was telling him about it was what worried him most.

“You’d tell me if you or Youning were in danger, right?” Lu Yao asked quietly. Chuseng had a gentle look pull over his expression, but he didn’t look him in the eye.

“. . . I would--” Lu Yao felt he was lying, but telling the truth at the same time, “--but it isn’t her or me that I’m worried about.” Chuseng set his hand on Lu Yao’s shin, as his feet were just at his knee, patting him.

“Who are you worried about then?”

“You.”

It set heavy in the air for a moment. Chuseng had looked up at him, and they held that eye contact for a few, long seconds. Lu Yao fiddled with the collar of his robe almost nervously. He finally pulled his eyes from Chuseng.

“Am I . . . in danger?” He felt childish hearing himself speak, but it was clear he was unsettled.

“We don’t know yet,” Chuseng’s voice dropped to just barely above a whisper, and he dropped his gaze as well, “I’m doing everything I can to make sure no one touches you,” His hand stopped, now resting on top of his leg, “We want everything to be low-profile. They’re going to be pissed enough that Youning is involved, I don’t know what they’d do if they found out you were too.”

“. . . Who’s ‘they’, Chuseng?” He looked at him.

Chuseng didn’t meet his gaze, he only shook his head. Lu Yao furrowed his brows and looked down at his hands-- still fiddling with his robe.

Eventually, in their now tense silence, Lu Yao slid back down on the bed, raising his knees when Chuseng got in the way. The second the man began to get up, Lu Yao grunted.

“Lay down,” He said. Chuseng looked at him.

“Hm?”

“Lay down,” He repeated, “Please.” He started kicking up the blankets from underneath him, leaving the blankets down next to him as he brought his side up to his chest.

“You’re not gonna get kidnapped during the night, I promise,” Chuseng had a small smile on his face.

“Well, I don’t know that!” He huffed, Chuseng snorted, “You’re so ominous about it, maybe there’s someone in here with us right now and they’re just waiting for me to fall asleep!” It broke into a quiet laugh.

“I’ll protect you, Yaoyao, don’t worry,” Chuseng said, and while he spoke, he climbed over to the empty side of the bed and laid down. Lu Yao helped him with pulling the covers over him, which earned another huff of amusement, even when Lu Yao jabbed his side for the nickname.

Then, once the two settled, Lu Yao fell asleep surprisingly quick.

The next time Lu Yao woke up, the sun was just barely grazing the horizon. At first, he had woken up thirsty again-- and hungry, but what kept him from getting up was an unfamiliar weight on him.

He looked down, blinking in confusion when he saw an arm wrapped around him. And of course, he felt the warmth on his back, someones breath on his neck. It didn’t irk him any, he was just confused as to why it was happening. Then it hit him.

Chuseng was holding him.

Heat immediately hit his face, burning his cheeks and the back of his neck. Why was he holding him? It didn’t feel bad-- he was actually quite comfortable, but he was confused. Did Chuseng just . . . do this with friends? Lu Yao held back a scoff. And sat there.

A giddy feeling gripped him, even if he was just staring straight at the wall with his hand hovering close to where Chuseng’s set. This felt surreal.

He was pulled out of his short trance when Chuseng cleared his throat and nuzzled against the back of his neck-- making Lu Yao instinctively pull up his shoulders at the touch. It didn’t seem to bother him. He slowly relaxed. His hand settled on top of Chuseng’s. Chuseng sighed through his nose.

He stayed like that for a few moments, the pad of his thumb rubbing along his hand.

Lu Yao breathed in deeply after a while. He wanted to turn around-- so he did. Chuseng lifted his arm, but didn’t seem to really wake up, and set it back on him when he settled. When he did, he had his face resting against Chuseng’s chest, hand shyly placed on his side.

When he realized he could feel, and hear, Chuseng’s heartbeat, that’s when it really settled that this was happening. Lu Yao toyed at his bottom lip with his teeth, finally forcing his eyes closed-- right as Chuseng moved his head to rest on top of his.

He slowly began dozing off again at this. Even if his mind was still rushing at the fact he’s being held for the first time in literal years, the comfort he felt from it just made him want to sleep.

As Lu Yao really began to fall asleep though, he felt a hand slowly rubbing his back, and a kiss being pressed on the top of his head.

#Asks #My Roommate Is A Detective #Qiao Chuseng #Lu Yao #Chuyao #My Writing #hi. i did this in one sitting. no edits or anything this is what you're getting #weiwxn

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dweetwise · 4 years ago

Text

day 16: bad day

prompt from: whumptober (tho i misread the title and can’t post to the challenge but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i still like it) pairing: felix x ace notes: felix’s day goes from bad to neutral to Nice (tm). also everyone except david is a shitty person in this lmao. warnings: implied emotional abuse, implied cheating, threat of violence word count: 2900

It was official; this was the worst day of Felix’s life.

It shouldn’t have been. He should have been happy, maybe a little shocked and nervous, but definitely excited. Not anxious, scared and downright spiteful like he felt right now.

His girlfriend was pregnant. They hadn’t been trying, but she was excited to tell him regardless, already thinking of baby names and giving Felix no room to voice any of his doubts. He knew this was what he claimed he’d always wanted, what he knew his parents wanted for him, to continue the family name since he was the last of his line.

He took another swig of the foul-tasting beer and wondered if she’d done it on purpose. She’d been not-so-subtly hinting at marriage for months, and Felix had always brushed her off. Maybe this was her taking matters into her own hands, forcing Felix to commit to her or drag down both his family name and professional image for having a child out of wedlock.

He didn’t want to marry her because she always seemed way more fond of his money than Felix himself, and he didn’t want to have kids because…

Well. He hated children.

He probably should have brought up that particular piece of information sooner, but he wasn’t sure it would have even made a difference. Not to his parents, not to his girlfriend, and certainly not to the ungodly amount of distant relatives and business associates who kept bugging him about settling down and starting a family.

Because, for some reason, dedicating the last twenty years of his life to doing what other people wanted him to do wasn’t enough.

He’d stupidly believed it would get better. That the twelve-hour work days and countless all-nighters on uninspiring projects would eventually pay off, when in reality all it had lead to were more boring projects. He’d thought buying his girlfriend expensive gifts and taking her on weekly dates followed by the obligatory weekly sex would make them fall in love, but instead she was pushing him into commitments he wasn’t ready for.

He downed the rest of the beer and tried to numb out the suffocating feeling of being trapped. He was doomed to keep living his shitty life exactly the way others dictated, and there was nothing he could do to change his fate.

Maybe that’s why he’d chosen this bar. It wasn’t the usual high-end, after-hour cocktail bar next to his office where everyone would recognize him. It was a shitty sports bar owned and frequented by foreigners, where nobody would approach him to congratulate him on the “good news” after his girlfriend e-mailed his entire contacts list in her excitement.

He debated getting another beer, maybe finally being able to pick one that didn’t taste like piss. God, how sad was his life that the biggest act of rebellion he could come up with was getting drunk on cheap beer in a bad part of town?

Felix clutched the glass tighter in his hand, frustrated at his life but also at himself, how he was unable to do anything but play right into everyone else’s plans. Fuck, he needed to do something different, something he’d never even considered would be in the realm of possibilities for him. But what?

He looked around the bar, seeing a group of backpackers animatedly chatting in what sounded like Spanish. He could go travelling, but that wouldn’t accomplish much except buy him a little bit of time. Not to mention his girlfriend would guilt him until he let her come along.

He could always get blackout drunk and puke his guts out in the bathroom. Maybe get into a bar fight. Try to get his hands on some drugs. Hire a prostitute.

Unfortunately none of those things seemed even remotely more thrilling than the bland beer he’d been drinking the entire night.

Felix sighed and buried his face into his hands. For forty years, he’d kept telling himself he wasn’t like everyone else, that he’d do something meaningful in his life, that he was a risk taker and not a conformer.

And he still would; he just didn’t know what. If he only got a sign—

The door to the bar slammed open and Felix snapped his head up from the noise, his table rattling from the impact of the door hitting the wall.

There was a man, his grey hair and cheap suit both wet from the autumn rain, clutching something under his arm while panting like he’d just run a half marathon. He hurried to close the door, and Felix didn’t mean to stare, but it was the most exciting thing to happen all night.

The man caught Felix’s eye and gave a quick grin.

“You saw nothing,” he offered before running up to the bar.

“Don’t tell me ya fuckin’—” the bartender started, clear annoyance on his features.

“Oops, gotta run, I was never here!” the man offered good-naturedly before hopping over the bar and disappearing into the back.

“Ace for fuck’s sake!” the bartender cursed, yelling at the doorway to what had to be a back room or kitchen. Still, he made no move to follow him, instead sighing in agitation and aggressively started cleaning a couple of pint glasses.

Felix realized three things at once; one, the new customer screamed trouble. Two, he clearly knew the bartender. And three, Felix was intrigued.

He made his way to the bar with his empty glass, placing a ten euro bill on the worn wood that earned him a fresh glass of beer in only a couple of seconds. He appreciated that the bartender hadn’t tried to make small talk during the entire evening, and lamented the fact that he had to break the silence.

“Who is your friend?” Felix asked, trying to ignore the self-consciousness that always surfaced when he had to subject the world to his extremely obvious German accent.

“'Friend' is a strong word,” the bartender huffed in annoyance, though it seemed to be directed at the person they were talking about and not Felix. “'A pest who keeps comin' back like a boomerang no matter how many times I kick 'im out' sounds more fitting.”

Felix hummed in acknowledgement and sipped at his beer, deciding to sit down at the bar instead of returning to his table.

“He seems interesting,” Felix mused, trying to fish more information about the man.

Instead of humoring him, the bartender stopped cleaning the glasses and gave him an incredulous stare.

“You've gotta be fucking kidding me,” he deadpanned. “The hell's a guy like you see in a rat like 'im?”

“That wasn't what I meant,” Felix insisted, staring at his glass in embarrassment. He was just curious, he wasn't… interested, at least not that way. God, why could he never communicate properly? This is why he never tried anything new.

He heard the bartender sigh long and loud, like this wasn't the first time he'd had to put up with a similar situation.

“Look mate, whatever yer thinkin', don't,” he offered, like that was supposed to help Felix at all. “Guy's way more trouble than 'es worth, an' he sure as hell ain't here to make friends.”

Felix didn't have time to reply, not that he even knew what he would have said, before the door slammed open once again and heavy footsteps stomped into the bar.

“Oi!” the bartender shouted in annoyance. “Don't go draggin' mud into my bar!"

“Where is he?” one of the new patrons demanded in German, and his voice was threatening enough to make Felix glance over his shoulder at the new arrivals.

He saw a group of four men that looked like bad news, their cheap clothing and poorly made tattoos making Felix think of some lowly local gang.

“Read the sign, mate,” the bartender scoffed, pointing at a metal plaque in the style of a road sign that said ‘Service in English only’.

“What a fucking moron,” one of the thugs commented, not even attempting to switch languages.

“We know he's here!” the man at the front barked out and proceeded to slam a fist against the bar.

“I got no bloody clue what yer talkin' about!” the bartender claimed. “But if yer gonna come to my bar an' start a fight, so help me—”

"Let's just beat him up!” one of the men was getting impatient.

“For the last time, where is he!?” one of the thugs surged forward and grabbed the bartender by his collar.

“You've got the fuckin' wrong place, I dun know shit about what ya even want!” the bartender, to his credit, didn't even bat an eye. Then again, it looked like he could easily hold his own in a fight.

Felix heard a gasp and noticed one of the Spanish kids cower closer to the corner they were sitting in, observing the scene with fear in her eyes.

The tension in the air seemed like it was about to snap, and instead of making Felix want to bolt into the safety of his mansion, it made his adrenaline start pumping.

This was what he needed. A thrill.

“You heard the man,” Felix raised his voice, finally turning to address the group. “You're in the wrong place.”

“Shut the fuck up, this doesn't involve you!” one of them eloquently responded.

“It started involving me when you barged in and ruined my night,” Felix explained calmly despite feeling his palms start sweating from nervousness, years of faking an unphased persona finally coming to use.

“Okay, the fuck's your problem!?” the guy who seemed to be the leader demanded, finally letting go of the bartender in favor of looming over Felix threateningly.

“I said,” he emphasized, slowly lifting his pint glass to take a sip of his drink and flash his ring with the family insignia. “You've got the wrong place.”

There was a moment of silence when all Felix heard was his own heart beating in his ears, keeping his expression neutral and looking at the thugs like they were nothing more than a fleck of dirt on his expensive suit. Hopefully, they'd recognize the symbol, even if the Richters hadn’t been involved in the local underworld for years, not after the disappearance of his parents.

“The fuck is he on about?” one of the men, who looked to be the youngest, demanded. “Let's just beat them both up and—”

“Shut up,” the leader barked, glancing at Felix fleetingly. “We seem to have gotten lost on the way.”

Felix couldn’t help the smug smile.

“Happens to the best of us,” he said.

The group slowly started slinking out of the bar without further complaints, with Felix's eyes following them the entire time as if daring them to protest.

“Sorry for bother,” one of them even offered to the bartender in questionable English before the door closed after them.

“I'll be damned,” the bartender huffed and crossed his arms, giving Felix a look that could generously be described as somewhat impressed. Felix offered a shaky smile in return before he focused all his attention on staring at the surface of the bar and trying not to tremble from fear as the adrenaline left his body. He hoped it wasn’t obvious he was taking unnecessarily deep breaths and that cold sweat was running down his back under the suit.

That had been the most idiotic thing he had ever done. It was stupid, it was dangerous, and unnecessary and—

And he'd never felt such a rush of absolute victory before.

There was a thud as a beer was placed in front of him, and he glanced up to see the bartender smirking at him.

“It's on the house,” he said in a heavily accented but otherwise fluent German.

Well. It seemed this night was just full of surprises.

Soon after, Felix found himself sitting in a corner booth nursing his two beers. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt good, and it wasn’t just from the alcohol buzzing in his system.

He’d proved to himself that he had balls. He was one wrong move away from ending up in a bar fight, and even that thought didn't make him cower in fear like it would have before. Despite never being in a fight before, his confidence was soaring, and he liked to imagine him and the bartender could have easily taken the four thugs.

And then his night only got better as a handsome stranger slid down into the opposite side of the booth.

“So, King told me you saved my ass just now,” the man said with a charming smile, casually leaning closer and propping his chin up on his elbow like they were old friends catching up.

It took Felix longer than he'd like to recognize the man as the one that caught his attention earlier. Without the baseball cap, sunglasses and cheap suit jacket, he cleaned up rather well, dressed in a simple light pink button-up and jeans. Slightly messy, silver hair was a stark contrast to the mischievous brown eyes and almost youthful, cocky smirk on his face.

Felix suddenly realized why the bartender thought he was interested in more than just the man's colorful personality.

“I suppose that's true,” Felix said after a way longer silence than was socially acceptable, but his companion was courteous not to mention anything.

“Well, whether you meant to or not, you have my thanks!” the man grinned good-naturedly. “I would have bought you a beer, but I see David's already got you covered,” he added, gesturing to the two pints where Felix was still working through his first.

“Yes, it's…” Felix started, debating whether he should be honest about his distaste for the drink or not. Fuck it, drunk and brave had worked earlier. “A shame it doesn't make it taste any better.”

The man barked out a laugh and Felix smiled at the success of his joke.

“I know, right?” his companion snickered. “I keep telling him to mix it up, maybe get some nice wines too, but he insists on importing that awful stuff the Brits call beer.”

Felix smiled politely, not knowing what to add to the statement. Regardless of what the bartender—David?—had claimed before, the two definitely seemed to be friends.

“I'm sorry, where are my manners!” the man suddenly seemed to realize, offering his hand over the table. “I'm Ace.”

“Felix,” Felix replied, returning the handshake firmly, like his father and numerous career coaches had taught him.

“So, Felix,” Ace continued, retracting his hand but leaning over the table even further. “What brings you here? I think I'd remember seeing someone like you before.”

Was that flirting? It had been so long since anyone had showed any interest in Felix, he couldn’t even recognize what was just casual conversation, too used to business world small talk about the stock market and someone's secretary's family.

“I needed a change,” Felix said, before realizing he probably shouldn't be revealing too much. “—of scenery,” he hastily added.

Ace regarded him silently for a few heartbeats and Felix gulped down some beer to try not to fret under the scrutinizing gaze.

“Scenery, huh?" Ace hummed. "Seen anything you like so far?”

Okay, that had to be flirting. Right? Felix stared at Ace's face, but the other wasn’t giving anything away. And Felix thought he was good a keeping a straight face.

“Maybe,” he answered simply, keeping eye contact much longer than appropriate on purpose.

Ace didn't look away and Felix wondered if he was the only one who noticed the tension in the air.

He always sucked at flirting, even in his native tongue, and now he had to do it in broken English. He thought he'd been pretty obvious, but he still wasn’t sure if Ace was just being friendly. Maybe he wasn’t even into men.

Well, to be fair Felix didn't think he was either, university time experimentation aside. There was something about this particular night, like he was desperate to prove to himself that he was still capable of making decisions for himself.

He’d always thought he wouldn't cheat, but he also knew that if Ace offered, he wasn’t going to say no. If this was the only thing in his life he still had control over, he was going to make the most of it, and he no longer cared if that made him a bad person.

“You know, I've stayed in a bunch of different hotels in the area while I've been here,” Ace mentioned out of the blue, and Felix furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “There's a pretty good one just down the street.”

Felix swallowed, at last realizing what the other was getting at.

“Really?” he asked, trying to mask his suddenly surfacing nerves.

“Yup. Kinda cozy, very… discreet,” Ace chirped casually, like he was talking about the weather and not propositioning a stranger.

Felix cleared his throat and shoved a hand in his pocket, managing to fish out a crumpled twenty euro bill despite his sweaty palms. He slapped the money on the table, hoping the tip would convey his gratitude to David for setting him up for the best night of his life.

Finally, he stood up from the booth and offered Ace a nervous smile that probably made it glaringly obvious just how eager he was.

“Lead the way."

#riconti #felix richter #ace visconti #david king #dweetwrites #dbd fanfic #dbd #dead by daylight #prompt #felix x ace #abusive relationship tw

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