#l: under 5k | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mrs-elsie-barnes · 14 days ago

Text

If I Could Melt Your Heart | Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader | One shot 5k

The end of the mission goes wrong when you fall through the ice. Bucky manages to get you to the safe house, unresponsive and hypothermic. Bucky worries for your safety, trying everything to warm you and melting the competitive animosity between you.

Warnings: 18+ for suggestions of sex, language and both Reader and Bucky being idiots. Flirting, frenemies to lovers nonsense, kissing. Whump, reader falls through ice, symptoms of hypothermia. Rated I and L for Idiots in Love.

Final divider by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

The fall was easier than you thought it would be. Conditioned to have confidence in your decisions, you’d run across the ice fully expecting to reach the other side and then, just as suddenly as you’d made your decision, you were looking up at the sky between two walls of dark green water.

The lake closed in just as fast, covering the sky, and your salvation, and panic set in, there was no air, your lungs burning from the cold and you gasped involuntarily, drinking in the crisp clean lake. It was over, the entire adventure was over, no more missions, no more tower, no more compound, no more galas and holidays and, worst of all, no more Bucky.

No more late nights bickering over films, no more inventing reasons for him to be your partner during training, no more glances during meetings and arguments after briefing, just so he’d stay closer, just so he’d look at you a little longer.

Despite everything you’d achieved, you’d wasted it all really, by not telling him how much you loved him.

You closed your eyes, arms still beating in the water, heaving against the pack on your back dragging you down.

The snow had come in fast, separating you from Sam and Steve. You'd meant to take a separate path each, converging on a safe house for extraction in the morning. Bucky had caught up with you a mile or two before. But somewhere in the storm you'd taken a wrong turn and now the darkness was closing in, your eyes fluttering closed, chest burning and Bucky still on the shore.

Hands appeared, covered in Avengers issue gloves, one hauling you upwards, the other pushing on the clasp that held your pack and letting it fall into the water while lifting you into the biting air. A face glowed in the bright sun and you were happy to allow the angel to take you where they wanted, closing your eyes again seemed the only sensible thing to do, then at least you could dream about your regrets.

Everything was hazy, but you knew you were being hustled into a safe house by the sound of the keypad beeping.

That's okay, maybe there's safe houses in the afterlife, maybe there's the crack of the fire and the cold won’t be so biting.

When Bucky reached the safe house the wind had picked up, forcing him to wrestle the door open before half falling into the small porch, the wind no longer holding his weight. But he managed to keep you steady as he shuffled inside, locking the cold out behind him.

He’d seen you go down, thinking you'd fallen, and had spotted the crack in the ice immediately after. It was clear where you’d gone wrong, leaving the track at the side of the lake, but he didn’t have time for that, he only had time to rush across the ice, sliding the last metre on his belly to stop it cracking further.

Thankfully your pack had done its job and the two small buoyancy aids that Tony had added after the last jet crash were keeping you close to the surface. You were in shock though, eyes misty and for a heartbreaking second, as he dragged your flopping body onto the ice, Bucky wondered if he’d been too late.

Beneath his fingers your pulse was still there, slow, but steady, and he flipped you onto your side and smacked your back as hard as he dared until you threw up the freezing water.

He took a different way off the ice, just in case it had cracked under the soft snowfall. Carefully, he had trudged across a more dangerous ridge to reach the safe house faster, the snow storm picking up around him, aware of your solid weight on his back, his pack slung around to his front. It had still taken half an hour and all of his energy.

By the time he’d placed you on the couch, Bucky’s long hair was frozen at the ends where it had fallen from his black stealth issue snow hat. His lips were chapped and his shoulder ached where his prosthesis met the joint. But he could see you, and he could see you breathing and moving and you weren’t dead.

He slumped to the floor and wiped a wet glove down his face, breathing out heavily.

You'd argued, on the jet, about the drop site, about the evac, about the contents of your pack. There was always an argument, a bet, a challenge to be had with you, but he didn’t care as long as you were looking at him. And he’d never had the courage to tell you, to pin you to the mat when you sparred and tell you that he couldn’t go a day without seeing you.

With another ragged breath he looked up. You were here, safe, together.

Now what?

Bucky called Sam and Steve’s emergency number together, hoping whoever wasn’t driving would pick up. He liked Sam and he trusted his medical judgement and while the tension in their friendship was easing, it was still easier with Steve around too.

“That you, Buck?” Sam said, there was a distinct hum from the truck in the background that told Bucky they were on their way at least. Help is coming, Bucky told himself, you don’t have to take care of her alone, help is coming.

“Bucky?” The side of Steve’s head appeared on the video call and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Thank god you picked up, things went from shit to worse out there, she fell through the fucking ice. Managed to get her out but she coughed up a helluva lot of water and now she’s all -” he looked behind him at your floppy hands and droopy eyelids, “she doesn’t look right, she isn’t talking, can’t stay awake.” Bucky rambled, his Brooklyn drawl appearing again through his worry. His words were getting mixed, he could feel them, heavy on his tongue, hypothermia? Something else? What had he been taught in basic training?

“Look, don’t get excited,” Sam said, pausing slightly, the howl of the snow storm still evident behind him. “But I need you to take off any wet layers she’s wearing, she could get hypothermia and her being unresponsive isn’t a good sign.”

“Why would that get me excited?” Bucky said, indigent but propping the phone up so he could start unzipping your coat.

On the video Steve rolled his eyes. He couldn’t see anything out of the truck windows, the snowstorm made everything static, but the video kept trying to focus anyway.

“Just do it, Buck, okay. There should be some spare clothes somewhere, if she needs them.”

Bucky peeled back your sopping coat and set about removing your snow boots. Underneath you were wearing waterproof trousers, a thick thermal sweater and long sleeved standard issue t-shirt and leggings, also wet. He sat back, peeling the leggings from around your ankles. At least you had one dry shirt on but it was so small, just a strappy vest as your first layer and there were already goosebumps rising on the skin around your shoulders and collarbone.

Bucky snapped his eyes away, cheeks flushed, and stood, searching for spares, coming up short.

“There’s nothing here -” he groused, standing his phone up against the empty fireplace while he searched.

“Check the bathroom, they normally leave sweat shirts and things by the towels.”

Bucky gave you one last look and left the room in search of something to keep you warm.

Your eyes felt so heavy, your head full of lead and your arms and legs weighed down. Your throat burned and tasted awful, worse than the pack rations you’d eaten before you’d set off on the last leg of your walk to the cabin.

The memory of the water washed over you and your arms flew out, grasping for the ratty sofa cushions.

You were safe.

Everyone else must have made it too because you could hear Sam and Steve talking, saying something about Bucky.

Blinking your eyes you were sure they were sat by the fire, maybe they’d light it soon, you were so cold.

Bucky returned with a blanket and socks, sweat pants and towels and dropped them on the floor by the couch. It was one thing to find supplies, quite another to get you changed, he felt bad enough about taking your outer layers off.

At some point during his search Sam and Steve must have dropped off the call, the phone now laying quiet on the hearth.

He’d get you dressed and then worry about a fire.

The sweat pants were fine, they were loose and pulled up easily over your hips, the socks and towels warmed your feet slowly. But your shoulders and chest were still uncovered and he could see you starting to shiver. That was at least a good sign, your nerves were working and you were responding correctly to sensory input - but he couldn’t bear it.

Without thinking he pulled his henley off and sat you up, carefully placing it over your head and manoeuvring your arms until you were covered.

You let out a deep sigh, smiling in your sleep. Bucky didn’t want to think about the way you seemed to snuggle into the collar, it was just body heat, that’s all, that’s all you needed.

Bucky tucked you back in, being careful to tuck the soft edges of the shirt between your bare skin and the rough wool of the blanket. This was not the way he wanted to see or touch you like this for the first time. He sat with his back to the sofa, gun across his lap and trained his eyes on the door.

Bucky’s eyes were open in half a second, body crouched, gun extended into the darkness until he noticed his phone lit up beside him, vibrating against the aching joints in his shoulders.

“Hey, Buck, hows it going?.” Steve asked from the gloom of the truck’s cabin. Sam must have taken over the driving, Steve never used his phone behind the wheel. “We should be with you in the morning.”

“Oh, thank fuck for that.” Bucky let his head flop back against the sofa and instantly regretted it when he felt the softness of your thighs behind him.

Sam’s voice was an echo on the line,“tell me what’s going on?”

“I took her uniform off like you said and she was awake very briefly, just eyes open then closed, but she’s been asleep awhile.”

“Awake is good, right?” Steve asked and Sam hummed in agreement.

“Hey man, you need to get some rest too, okay. No falling asleep by accident, get in the bed or under a blanket and really sleep,” Sam scolded, it rankled Bucky sometimes, how well Sam really knew him, but he was grateful for this new team as well.

“I shouldn’t I -” the words ‘I don’t deserve to rest’ were so close to stumbling past his lips. Instead he closed his eyes and turned his head to the wood beamed roof.

“Look punk, whatever stupid thing you two were arguing about, it’s not your fault she got hurt, okay?” Steve’s voice was sterner now, demanding attention.

“It was a bet,” Bucky admitted, weakly. “I bet her I could get here first and when I did I’d get the bed and the blankets. She was rushing because of me, she took a stupid fucking risk because she thought she’d have nowhere to sleep.” Bucky bit his cheek, the tang of blood staining his tongue.

“For gods sake, Buck, that’s not your fault, she made her own choices -”

“She’d have made better ones if I wasn’t such an asshole, what would my Ma ? Making a bet like that, you know I’d never have let her go cold.”

In your sleep your hands inched forwards, searching for something. The tips of your fingers found his earlobe and then, with a hum, you tucked your hand between his cold, bare, back and the sofa.

“James Buchanan Barnes, your ma would’ve tanned your hide from here to Coney Island. But I know, I know you would never have let her suffer, you were playing games and makin’ stupid bets because you respect her as your equal. She’d be just as mad if she though you were goin’ easy on her.”

He had nothing to say, no way to defend himself or make it better that didn’t involve him punishing himself somehow, so he said nothing.

“Just hang on until the morning, okay. I’ll send over some more information on hypothermia in case we lose contact. But you just have to get through to the morning and then we can take over.”

“Shouldn’t we get her to the compound now?” Bucky didn’t try to hide the worry in his voice, you hadn’t fought him off, complained, made a sarcastic comment or done any of your usual ridiculous arguing when he’d helped you. It wasn’t right.

“No, no, best thing is to let her sleep and warm up. She’s fine. You need to sleep though, properly, on a soft surface.”

“Floors aren’t soft surfaces!” Sam shouted.

“Okay, but -” Bucky paused and Steve raised his eyebrows.

“Just sleep, Buck.” If Bucky was worried, Steve was amused, unable to keep the smile from his voice as he said goodbye.

You were still underwater, you were sure from the way all the voices in your head sounded muffled. But then you could smell Bucky’s shampoo, so maybe everything was okay after all.

“Hey, are you awake,” Bucky’s voice was so far away, like listening through a bubble, “if you’re awake you should eat something and then I can take your temperature again.”

There was a movement, an earthquake, but the water didn’t move, there was no water anymore, just the cushion, the lap, the arm, the hand. You clung to the arm, but it didn’t yield under your fingers, it was solid and whirring and -

“Hmmm, Bucky,” you whispered, nuzzling back into his hold.

“No, come on, sit up, time to eat.” Why was the world moving, tilting? The voice was louder now, clearer.

“Buh-” The words were gone again, the world was quiet again, blissful sleep with Bucky’s hand in yours.

Sam’s face appeared on the phone screen, sleep in his eyes while Bucky gave him an update. He’d decided to stay awake, insisting he’d nap in the truck when they moved on in the morning. As soon as you’d started talking he’d called Sam and Steve to check on you.

“She was slurring a bit. She wasn’t shivering but I think she’s warmer.”

“You think she’s warmer?,” Sam cut over Steve, looking pointedly at Bucky. “Feel her back and chest.”

“Her chest…” Bucky looked down at you, curled into his t-shirt, eyelids fluttering in your sleep. “She’s wearing clothes.”

Bucky’s hand was still on your cheek and you turned into the touch, a small smile gracing your lips.

“Bucky just put your hand on her collar,” Steve suggested.

“Awh, Buck, are you nervous around her, that’s so cute.” Sam teased and Steve scoffed at him. The line went quiet, but he could still make out some muffled arguing.

He ignored them, sliding his left hand down to your collarbone, gently tucking his fingers under the collar of the t-shirt. His left hand was surprisingly sensitive and he could feel the prickle of your heat, you were definitely warmer than you had been. Your heartbeat steady beneath his palm, his thumb rubbed higher, feeling your pulse in your neck as well.

“I don’t know what’s going on between you two,” Steve sighed and Bucky snatched his hand away as if he’d been caught, “but if you can get her to have some soup that would be great -”

“We have to do something else.” Bucky knew he sounded panicked, but he didn’t care. Hypothermia could be deadly and there was no way he was losing you. “She’s still asleep, she should be coming round.”

“There's not much more we can do,” Sam's voice was sleepy. “Sit with her, if she wakes up, get her to eat something and try to keep her awake. Steve and will get there as soon as we can. In the meantime, there may be one more thing you could try -” Sam’s eyes lit up and Bucky just knew he was in trouble somehow.

Body heat, that’s what Sam had said.

“You need to get under a blanket with her properly, keep her warm.” Sam suggested.

“You mean cuddle.”

“Fine, cuddle, would that be the end of the world?” He’d rolled his eyes and Bucky had felt a sort of sick feeling inside. He’d love to cuddle you, actually, would love to feel your body close to him without the threat of you pulling a training knife or trying to flip him on his back again. But he just can’t.

He stared at you, replaying Sam’s words over and over. Bodyheat, it’s the only thing for it now the fire was roaring again and the huge blanket was folded over twice. Why weren’t you waking up? Why were you still so cold to the touch?

He lay down, rearranging the blanket over you both and let his right arm fall over your waist, pulling you closer.

The fire crackled, the snow fell in quiet drifts by the windows and for a moment he could pretend that this was all normal. Just you taking a nap on a winter evening. Would you nap in your clothes? Or would you change into your pyjamas early on in the day and stay like that. Would you fall asleep as easily in his apartment? Would you want to stay?

The snow had stopped again, banked up against the windows in what would have been a wonderful Christmas scene, if you weren’t stuck in the middle of nowhere.

Bucky’s tactical comms were blinking with a new message but he couldn’t bring himself to move. His head was clearer from having slept, but the feel of your hand sitting low on his hip, your body perfectly aligned with his and, crucially, your face so close, lips brushing his cheek, had his thoughts reeling again.

You stirred, nuzzling closer and placing a sleepy kiss on his cheek. Bucky’s heart sank, who did you think he was?

“Hmm, where are we?” Your eyes were closed still, but at least your hand was hot against his skin and you were talking, cogent.

“You fell through the ice, I'm trying to get you warm. How do your toes and fingers feel?” He whispered.

You stretched your hands out in front of you, wiggling your fingers at him, “they did hurt, ugh, they hurt so bad,” there was a sad whine in your voice that made Bucky want to right every wrong you’d ever endured. You just sounded so small, so vulnerable for a change. “But they don't hurt anymore.” Your eyes drifted closed again and Bucky bit his lip, it really was now or never.

“Hey, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault.” He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the anger on your face.

“You cracked the ice?”

“No, but you wouldn’t have gone over it if we hadn’t made that stupid bet.”

“Oh -” and then you laughed.

“Why are you laughing, this is really serious, you could’ve died.” His breath caught in his throat, you were laughing and moving and his chest was still bare and you were in his t-shirt, pushing yourself against him with every movement.

“It’s not your fault though you idiot.” You smacked his chest playfully and he caught your hand, holding it tight.

“Are you feelin’ okay now?” His eyes darted over your face, taking in your pupils - slightly too dilated, your skin felt flush now which was good, but you couldn’t look at him properly. “You’re not concussed, your pupils are -” his fingers lingered on your wrist, feeling your pulse quicken.

You pulled away, “I’m fine, I just needed to sleep it off I guess. Where are we?”

You took in the cabin, the little bed in the corner, stripped of its blankets. There was a fire still in the grate and evidence of Bucky eating, judging by the little ration packets scattered next to the sofa. Your tactical gear was drying over the back of a chair and Bucky’s was arranged neatly by the door.

“We made it to the safe house, you were really close, you would’ve won.” Bucky kept his hands to himself, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the way your eyes had looked when he’d held you, the light hadn't changed, you hadn’t moved your body, the only thing that had changed was his touch.

“Good, I knew I would, slow old man.” You laughed and it was such a relief to hear you happy, safe, Bucky closed his eyes again. “Where are Sam and Steve?”

Still driving, there was a snowstorm so god knows when they'll get here now.”

“Better get some rations together then, I'm starving.”

You wriggled off the couch and stood, eyeing up the kitchenette.

Bucky, on the other hand, was trying to keep his eyes from straying to you. The sweat pants were far too big, sliding down over your hips, as we're the socks which pooled around your ankles. You looked so…cute.

“I don’t think you should be doing that, why don’t you rest?” He pushed the blankets and towels off the worn couch and tried to steer you away from the kitchenette.

“Bucky I’m not dead, I was fine, I can make some-” you turned the can over in your hands, it sloshed, but there was nothing on the label, “mystery soup.”

“No, you’re not dead, but -”

“You wish I was, blah blah blah.” You laughed making your hand talk along with your words.

“No, No -” Through your laugh, Bucky’s voice was laced with distress. “I never wanted you to get hurt.”

He dodged around you, trying to get you to slow down and look at him but you were turning a pan over in your hands, deciding if it was too rusty for cooking with.

“I know, you just wanted to win. No hard feelings, Buck. We’ll pick a winner next time.”

You were determined to carry on like this then, with your arguing and betting and banter. Even though Bucky had sat with you through the night, certain you were going to die and it was entirely his fault that you’d die without knowing you were the one who kept him going.

“I don’t want there to be a next time.” He said, plainly.

“Oh, right, well, I guess we can just ask to be placed on different teams. If that’s what you want.” Suddenly the laughter had stopped and it was like you'd been dipped in ice again, the atmosphere was frosty and tense.

“No, for god's sake, that's not what I mean. Fuck, I'm messing this up!” Bucky grumbled, making a grab for you.

“Hey!” You tried to dodge again, but he took your hands and pulled you close.

“I don't want there to be a next time because I never want you to be in danger because of me. There won't be a next time because I was so scared I was going to lose you without telling you…”

“Telling me…what?”

“That you make all of this worthwhile.” He said, the tension leaving his body. “I couldn't imagine training without you, dinners and galas and missions. It wouldn't be the same, it wouldn't be worth it if you weren't there too.”

“Bucky-”

“You don't have to say anything, I just needed to tell you.” He dropped your hands and turned, “I'm going to go and call Sam and Steve, see if they're nearly here for evac.”

But you heard the water turn on and knew he wasn’t doing any such thing. He was having one of his angry, ‘wash away the argument’ showers that infuriated you so much when you had to share a hotel room or a safe house or when you followed him to his room to continue whatever ridiculous argument you’d both cooked up.

You continued stirring the soup slowly. Soup was really all you could find that didn’t make you feel sick just from reading the label, and you bent over the stove allowing the steam to warm your fingers and cheeks.

The door to the bathroom slammed and you turned to see the light spilling from under the door. What did he mean ‘you make all of this worthwhile’. He was messing around, right? All the bets and fights, the arguments. He liked to get under your skin because, well, he clearly didn’t like you very much.

You dropped the wooden spoon against the side of the pan, letting the too short handle slowly drown in the now spitting hot soup.

But you liked him. Your heart had been pounding when he touched you and now your mind was racing at the thought of him even more than tolerating you.

Before you could stop yourself you were crossing the cabin and hammering on the bathroom door.

Bucky’s face was flush when he opened the door, pink staining his cheeks and blending with the faint lines on his face where he’d been cut during your mission.

He said nothing.

“Tell me what you meant.” You demanded, trying to keep your eyes up. It was difficult, Bucky had stripped off already, you’d sparred enough times to know what his chest felt like, it seeing might actually tip you over the edge.

“Don’t do this.” He grumbled, “just leave me alone.”

He went to close the door but you pushed your flat palm against the wood, “Bucky you can’t go saying shit like that and then walk off and make it my fault.”

“I can’t deal with it today, okay? I pulled your lifeless fucking body from underneath a sheet of ice. I thought you were dead, okay, dead.”

His jaw ticked as he closed his eyes and you could see how dark they were underneath, as if he hadn’t slept at all.

“I carry you back here and - god - you were so cold, freezing, and I stripped all those clothes off thinking ‘Bucky she’s going to kill you’ and then you wanted to hold me while you slept. And you could’ve died, I thought you had died, and it’d be my fault because I made a fucking bet with you just so you’d talk to me and smile at me and I wanted you to win, I really did, because when you win you look at me and your eyes sparkle and I can pretend its because of me -” he took a breath, shocked that he’d allowed such a stark confession out. But he was so tired and -

“It is you.” You whispered, “if my eyes sparkle -” your lips quirked up at the corner, “if they do it is because of you. I like when you make bets with me because then I know you’ll be thinking about me. I like when we fight because you touch me and I can pretend it's because you want to and -”

Your thoughts were cut off by Bucky wrapping his arms around your back, his hands were wide on your shoulders when he pulled you up and into him, kissing you hard enough to bruise.

“I’m so fucking in love with you,” his eyes were still full of emotion, his eyes piercing, it still felt warm to be under his gaze but there was something extra something more in your honesty that had you pressing your lips to his again.

“I fucking love you too.” You confessed against his mouth and jumped into his arms.

Bucky stumbled out from the bathroom, balancing you on his hips so his hands could cradle your back, pressing you close. Between you he could feel how soft your breasts were, peaked nipples hard and your heartbeat fast.

Your chest heaved, pulling back for breath with a huge smile, a laugh in the corner of your mouth.

"We've been so stupid."

"Uh -huh," Bucky knelt, lowering you to pile of blankets that had been kicked off the sofa so recently, "stupid, yeah." He went back to kissing you, holding himself up with one hand and using the other to trace over every curve of your body.

"I've waited so long to have you like this," he murmered, lips brushing your own, "and you've been so sick, I can wait a while longer."

Bucky pulled away, but you tightened your grip around his neck and pulled him down with you.

"If you think you're leaving me now," you groaned, "you're very much mistaken."

Bucky's smile turned almost feral, his pupils wide and eyes roving your face for any sign of discomfort.

"I'll be very -"

"Bucky,"

"Hmm?" He was lost in touching you again,

"Just fuck me."

He seemed to lose all control, crushing a kiss against your lips and letting the hands that had been so gentle grip you even tighter, his finger pads digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, tipping your hips up so he could grind his hard cock against you.

"Is that an M249 in your -"

"I'm just very pleased to see you," he countered, smiling into your kisses.

You laughed, the fire of your sparing still there in the way he hiked your leg over his hip, and you remembered all the times he'd rolled you over on the mats just like this, your breath fanning over his cheek and his body so close to yours.

"Can't promise it's as big though."

You slid your hand into his tight tactical trousers and squeezed the still growing bulge beneath, "I dunno, Buck, pretty close."

"Flattery will get you everywhere."

"I'm exactly where I want to be."

His kisses slowed and he pulled back, brushing a hand down your cheek, "me too."

Sam was exhausted when he pulled the truck up to the safe house, Steve was dosing in the passenger seat after his stint at driving and Sam was looking forward to his own sleep before they made their way to the evac point.

He shoved the door open, expecting to see the familiar sight of you bickering over cards but -

“Sam!” Bucky shouted, throwing a blanket over your naked body and accidentally exposing himself in the process. “Get out!”

You laughed, clinging to Bucky’s arm in peels of laughter.

“Steve!” Sam shouted as he retreated, “you owe me twenty dollars! And Bucky owes me an hour with his therapist”

“He can have whatever he wants as long as I get to keep you.” Bucky smiled, kissing you on the cheek.

“That’s so cheesy, Bucky, gross.” Your laughter turned into giggles.

“You love it.” He kissed you again and your lips parted in anticipation.

“Hmm, I guess I do…” You let him push you back into the blankets, kissing down your neck before- “ I bet you I can get dressed faster!”

#Bucky #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x Reader #bucky barnes/reader #bucky x reader #Bucky/Reader #bucky barnes x you #Bucky x You #Bucky Barnes/You #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes one shot #bucky x female reader #bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes #buckybarnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x female yn

429 notes · View notes

yellowharrington · 10 months ago

Text

wildflower and barley -- joel miller x reader

pairing + fandom: joel miller x reader, the last of us (hbo)

word count: 5k+ oops

warnings/notes: smut smut smut!!! minors DNI, 18+!!! no outbreak!au. age gap (it's implied reader is in her 20s while joel is 45) and mentions of joel being kinda perverted and liking it lol. drinking (both reader and joel, not excessive), use of a dating app like tinder but not specified, unprotected PIV w creampie and oral (m+f receiving), do not fuck your tinder hookups without protection i'm just horny and gross. excessive use of darlin' as a nickname. implied that reader likes men. she/her pronouns used, afab!reader (with mentions of body parts), no use of y/n. if i missed anything lmk!

a/n: heavily inspired by this post by @yesttoheaven about joel's tinder profile!! it has been rotting my brain since i saw it which literally inspired me to write my first fic in the tlou fandom ever so please be gentle with me. i imagined show!joel because i've never played the game so do with that what you will. please reblog and leave comments if u enjoy it <3333

divider by @cafekitsune

summary: after deciding to change your age range on a dating app in hope of a change of scenery, you stumble across joel miller.

No one likes using dating apps.

Swiping left, left, left mindlessly at troves of men holding fish, showing off their trucks, or with deer heads mounted to the walls behind their selfies holding guns.

This was Texas, after all.

Having just moved here, it was a little shocking, to say the least. But you were getting used to the “eligible” bachelors that were your age generally looking and acting the same. When you did end up finding someone of interest, you were usually turned off pretty quickly by whatever shitty pick-up line they had chosen. Or, your personal favourite, “wanna fuck?”

No thanks.

It was an idyllic summer evening, the hot stuffy air of Austin flowing in through your windows. You laid in bed, propped up on the pillows against your headboard and sorting through the faces that adorned your screen. No one particularly interesting, as usual, and every profile was starting to melt together to look the same.

You sighed, looking into your settings, adjusting and increasing different metrics to hopefully change the pool just enough for there to be someone new or interesting.

Age range: 25-30

Your eyebrow cocked as you looked onto the screen, pulling the slider more to the right experimentally. No one was here to see you, and even though it was slightly embarassing to be interested in older men, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t pique your interest to imagine it. Even just to try, and see, if they ever really did grow up. You imagined it was wishful thinking, but increased the range anyways.

Age range: 35-45

Feeling the need to throw your phone across the room after doing that, you placed it face down under your pillow and slid out of bed. No use in swiping through them now, and you were getting tired of looking. A pint of Ben and Jerry’s and a new episode of your favourite show was waiting for you downstairs.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

Joel Miller does not use dating apps.

He barely knows how to send a text on his phone, let alone navigate the world of online women. Not to say he didn’t explore the options, so to speak, but they usually were not ones that were single, his age, and in his area. Unless the ads on those sites were real, that is.

“It’s starting to get sad,” Sarah had remarked at breakfast, when they got on the topic, and Joel feigned hurt. Hand over his heart, he dropped his fork onto the plate. “It’s not sad, Jesus. I’m just busy, is all.”

“Busy not gettin’ busy,” Sarah remarked, and Joel’s eyes widened. “Hey now! None of that.”

A blush spread up his cheeks and ears as they continued to eat breakfast in slightly awkward silence, before Joel took his plate to the sink. “Okay, off to school, you. And no more conversations about my dating life. Ever.”

Sarah laughed as she finished off the last of the juice in her glass. “I’m just saying, dad. You can if you want to. Might be nice for you.”

Joel planted a soft kiss to her head before she bounded out the door, rolling his eyes and calling out a ‘love you’ before she closed the door swiftly behind her. Joel stared at his cell phone on the table. Maybe it would be nice.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

The following evening, you were a little too excited to see the dating app specimens you had acquired. Not sure what to expect, really, and you went in with no expectations. It’s not like they’d magically all be tall, dark, and handsome, but some variety never killed anybody.

Paul, 41

Daddy, but not yours. No libs allowed. 6’ because that matters.

You sighed deeply. Some things never change.

After swiping through much of what you were used to, a profile managed to catch your eye among the sea of disappointment.

Joel, 45

Just a Southern gentleman trying this out for the first time. Contractor of over 10 years. I love my daughter, BBQ, strong coffee, and sleeping in.

Now that was the most interesting thing you’d seen in a while.

He didn’t look a day over 40. His eyes creased at the corners when he smiled wide in his photos. He looked tan, a product of the Texas heat and his job, you thought. His features were accompanied by salt-and-pepper facial hair and messy curls that looked soft and pliable. His photos showed off his physique incredibly, tight wash-worn t-shirts pulling over his arms and shoulders, looking big, broad. He was no doubt the most handsome man you’d seen on an app, maybe ever.

When you swiped right before you could think too hard, you were surprised to see the green “Match!” Flash across your screen.

Your fingers ghosted over the keyboard on your phone, thinking of a witty thing to say, probably for too long.

Your phone buzzed as you saw a notification pop up.

Joel has sent you a message.

Hey, darlin’. How are ya?

You felt your face warm at the sweet message, when was the last time someone had called you darlin’? Ever?

Hey cowboy. I’m great, how are you?

He was certainly an eager responder, taking only a few seconds to reply. You found yourself smiling down at your phone screen.

Cowboy… I like that. I’m better now that I’m talking to you.

Oh, Joel, who told you to say that? 😂

No good?

Not bad. 6/10.

Only 6/10? I’ll work on it. I like to think I’m better in person.

I would love to find out.

You found yourself emboldened by how easy the conversation was flowing. Joel was certainly easy to talk to, easier than the other matches you had going for you, and infinitely more handsome.

Oh, would you? Alright. I’d love to take you to dinner sometime. If you don’t mind being seen with an old man such as myself in public. Or meeting a stranger from the internet.

He’s a very handsome stranger. I would love to go to dinner with you. Know any good spots? I’m new around here.

There’s a great barbecue spot in downtown Austin. If you’d prefer something fancier, let me know.

I love bbq. Just tell me where and when, cowboy.

Tomorrow, 7pm ok?

You sent him your phone number in the message. Fuck it.

Sounds great. Text me the address, I’ll be there. :)

Joel’s reply didn’t come. Instead, a text appeared at the top of your screen with an unknown number.

It’s Joel. This the right number?

Yup. You found me.

Great. Talk tomorrow sweetheart. Looking forward to it. :)

He texted you the address of the restaurant, right before you opened the contact card, saving his name as “cowboy ♡”.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

Cowboy. Cowboy. Cowboy. It was playing over in his head like a broken fuckin’ record.

Joel was positively freaking out about this date.

Sarah had managed to secure a sleepover at her friend’s place, so the house would be empty for the night. He had been busying himself with cleaning the entirety of the house, even taking the time to mow the grass before work and vacuum the family room. He can’t remember the last time he vacuumed anywhere.

Would she even make it back here? How does this work? Will she want to sleep over or hang out on the couch or should he be making a dessert for after?

His mind was brought out of it’s craze by Sarah jumping down the stairs. She plopped her bag down on the freshly wiped countertop.

“Careful,” he warned, putting a hand up. “I just cleaned that off.”

“I can tell. It smells like the cleaning aisle threw up in here.”

He smirked before patting her head with his hand, as she aggressively smoothed out her hair. “Dad! Don’t!”

“When do you wanna go to Ellie’s?” He asked, more gaging how long he has left to get ready than actually asking.

“Probably soon. Why? Tryna get rid of me?” she poked her dad in the side, but when she flinched away instead, a large smile spread across her face. He was tense.

“What’s your deal?” Joel hated the way she knew him so well sometimes.

“Nothing.“

“Are you going on a date?”

Silence fell over the kitchen between the two of them, as Joel’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “How did you know?”

“Oh my god, you actually took my advice,” Sarah laughed, watching her dad’s face burn red with embarrassment. “Just don’t do anything weird on communal surfaces, please.”

Joel shook his head at her suggestion, already becoming annoyed with the whole prospect. He was so nervous, about what to wear, how to act, what the expectation was… let alone, what would happen if they made it back to his place at all.

Although, when he was able to shake his nerves for a second, he was just really fucking excited.

“Wear those dark jeans, and that green shirt you wore to Tommy’s last week. Looks good on you.” Sarah smiled as she put her arms around Joel’s middle, while his worries melted away with her touch. “She’ll love you, I promise.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

It had been such a long time since you’d been on a proper date, you were starting to lose your mind at the simple process of deciding what to wear.

Clothes were strewn across every surface of your apartment, shoes matching with jeans that matched with cardigans, tops that matched with belts and jackets.

It’s 87 degrees at 5 o’clock, idiot. You’re not wearing a jacket. Relax.

Exhausted of picking out outfits and making decisions, you collapsed on your couch and took a look at your options. You landed on an easy sundress, putting the rest of your clothes back in their respective drawers, and pulling out all of the products you were expecting to use to get ready.

You scrolled through your phone aimlessly as a notification bubble popped up on the screen.

We still on for tonight darlin’? Or did you change your mind?

No worries if you did. I respect that.

You let out a cackle at the message, thinking about how he must look right now. Was he nervous? Scared? Was he just looking for a controversially young fuck?

You weren’t… completely against that.

Didn’t change my mind, wouldn’t in a million years :)

Meet you there. Can’t wait to see you.

His eagerness to meet up would’ve been a red flag if it were any other run of the mill guy, but something about Joel felt special. There didn’t seem to be any funny business with him; too sincere to try anything other than just a good old fashioned date.

You too, cowboy.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

When Joel showed up at the restaurant, he clenched a small bouquet of pink peonies in his right hand and checked his watch obsessively. The minutes ticked away, as he kept a high alert for anyone who could be his potential date. He knew what you looked like, of course, but this being his first time doing anything of this sort is making him hyperaware of anything going awry.

When he does lay eyes on you, his whole gaze softens. A pink sundress, hair pristinely styled and a bounce in your step that reminded him of summer. You looked like an angel, the sunset behind you painting the sky tangerine, which reflected off of the shine against your supple skin. So young, beautiful, it was taking his breath away.

“Joel?”

Your voice matched your sweet demeanour, and he was taken out of his waking daydream.

“Hi,” is all he can say, letting his breath out as he relaxed. “Yes, hi, sorry. I’m Joel.”

“Hi,” you laugh back, eyes darting to the flowers in his hand. They matched your dress.

“These are for you,” he gets the hint, extending his arm out, and you can see the veins bulging in his forearm. He looked so much stronger in person, it was making your knees go weak.

“Thank you, wow,” you held them up to your nose to smell the sweet aroma. “I love peonies.”

“Me too,” he smiled, showing off a string of pearly white teeth, that contrasted with the pink of his lips and the even tan of his skin.

“Shall we?” He extended his arm to you for you to grab onto, and you got to feel the warmth of his skin for yourself. Your hand wrapped around his forearm as he opened the door of the restaurant for you, leading you inside and catching a glimpse of the backs of your thighs as you walked in front of him.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

When you were finally sitting, the conversation flowed easily. He was truly a Southern gentleman, like he had said. It wasn’t normal for you to open up so quickly, but Joel was so easy going and smart, he asked the right questions and knew when to listen. He knew how to listen, a warm gaze and a nod along, asking follow up questions to your answers and easily getting to know you.

You asked about his daughter, his family, his work. He was happy to tell you.

“So, what’s a man like you doing being single in this city?” You take a sip of the wine in the glass in front of you, burgundy staining your bottom lip.

He takes a bite of the food in front of him, a napkin pressing to his lips quickly after. “Been busy,” he started to say, honey brown eyes meeting yours for a second. His gaze sent an electrifying pulse down your spine.

“And, well, when Sarah’s mom left there was a ton to do,” he says it nonchalantly, as if that should be something normal to happen. “House, work, school, she keeps my hands full. Hasn’t been a lot of time.” His syrupy drawl is pulling you in, you’re enticed by the way he speaks to you. So easy, warm, soft. You wonder what his hands feel like on your body, lips pressed to your neck, torso pressed against yours.

“Sorry, that’s a lot of information for a first date,” he laughs to cover the awkwardness, and quietly curses himself for going into so much detail about his precarious family situation and basically admitting to you that he hasn’t fucked anything other than his hand in the last 5 or so years.

“No, it’s okay,” you slide your hand across the table, palm up, urging him to slot his hand into it. He takes it, easily, enveloping yours. His fingers find the pulse point on your wrist. You let your eyes drift up to his, drinking in the way his chest fills out the shirt he chose.

“What’s your story?” He asks earnestly, giving your hand a squeeze. “Can’t imagine there isn’t a long line of people outside waiting to take my place, darlin’.”

You blush furiously at the nickname, and let your eyes meet his once again. “You have no idea the… mess that is out there,” the wine is calling your name to take another sip at the mere thought, but you refrain. “Certainly not too many I am interested in.”

“So, is that why you’re on a date with an old man on a beautiful summer night in Austin?”

You could tell Joel, in a twisted way, liked that you were younger than him. It made him feel younger by admission, that you’d want to spend time with him.

“You’re not that much older,” you laugh, not even believing it yourself as the words left your lips. “And I like to try new things. Don’t you like trying new things, sometimes?”

It was his turn to let his face go red at your insinuation. If only you knew how ‘new’ this really was for him, how much he was pushed out of his comfort zone right now.

You didn’t notice.

A little more polite small talk and exchanging of stories was all you could take before the tension was becoming too much. After another glass of wine and a shared plate of sky-high chocolate cake for dessert, you were enjoying his company and could tell he was enjoying yours all the same. When you met his gaze again, hands still intertwined, you could tell there was a question on the tip of his tongue.

“Would you want to…“ - a nervous pause, with a halo of lust - “come back to mine for a nightcap? I’ve got an empty house this evening.”

You couldn’t help but smirk, knowing in your heart that Joel must’ve made arrangements for his family not to be home in anticipation. He had to have planned for you, known in his heart you’d say yes.

“I’d love that.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

Joel’s home is unmistakably him. It smells like a pine candle that sits near the front door and a faint aroma of laundry detergent. There’s photos everywhere, him and his daughter, his brother’s family. Big windows were letting in the twinkling lights of the city outside, the inky sky making them look brighter against its canvas.

“You have a beautiful home,” you say, although it seems a little formal for the situation. What else do you say to a grown-up in their house?

“Thank you,” he takes a bottle of whiskey from the bar cart and pours two rock glasses, handing you one. He flicks on a lamp, ambient light filling the room and painting his skin amber orange, as he joins your side by his kitchen table.

“I did a lot of the construction myself, the decorations are my daughter.” He points lazily to the trinkets on the shelves and photos on the wall. “I don’t really have a good eye for that type of stuff.”

You take a sip from the drink and it coats your throat, burning down as you suppress a cough at the taste. You nod along as he explains the design choices he made in the home, and you play along, knowing it’s likely out of anxiety.

“What about upstairs?”

Your eyes are innocent as they meet his, although you understand the implication you’re making whole-heartedly. He puts his glass down on the kitchen table and you follow his lead, his strong hand around your wrist as he leads you up the stairs wordlessly.

“It’s not anything,” - he clears his throat - “special,” he shows you around the second floor, finishing at the door of his bedroom that has been left slightly ajar.

You step in quietly, leading him inside as you take in the bedroom. Neatly folded clothes, a made bed that looks well loved. Blue sheets and fluffy pillows, big bay windows that let the moonlight in.

“I think it’s nice,” you say simply, letting yourself turn around to meet his broad frame. He looks down at you slightly, eyes meeting yours as your hand drops from his grasp and snakes around his neck. His hands come up the sides of your dress, pulling it up slightly, but landing on your waist.

“Is this okay?” He asks tentatively in the dark of the room, his lips so close to yours already you can practically taste the whiskey on his lips for yourself. You answer him by pressing your tentative lips to his, slotting them together easily.

Joel’s grip on your waist tightens momentarily as he takes you in, pulling you as close as he possibly can. He can smell the perfume on your neck and the wine on your lips from earlier, and it’s making his need for you increase tenfold.

You pull him into you as you stumble back to let your knees hit his mattress, sitting down and letting your hands come to his belt buckle. Your hands came to undo it as he pulled his t-shirt off to throw onto the floor beside him, bending down to help you pull the dress over your shoulders to meet his t-shirt.

You made quick work of his jeans, pushing them to the ground and looking up at him with a keen glance. You could see the breath making his belly rise and fall, anticipating your touch on him any second.

When your hand wrapped around the base of his cock, his breath hitched and his head rolled back. He was already half-hard only from kissing you, so a few pumps made him easily ready for your mouth.

“You’re so big,” is all you can think to say, head spinning from the sheer size of him right in front of your face. Your mouth watered at the way his hand palmed through your hair, pulling you in closer to him for some relief.

It was intoxicating to him, the way your mouth fit around his cock. Such a beautiful sight to see, your head licking and sucking at his tip, gathering spit there to lubricate him. His knees were going weak as he watched intently, no thought able to cross his mind, other than maybe how long it had been since he’d had anyone to do this with. He was going to have to pace himself if it was all like this.

Your mouth constrained around the length of him, taking him deeper and deeper with every bob of your head. Filthy sounds were filling the room now, of your eager mouth pulling him in as best you could. His hand stayed steady at the back of your head, not pushing, just softly pressed there for support. His other hand found your shoulder, pushing down your bra strap.

“God, darlin’,” was all he could choke out, using his hand to pull you off of him. Your hand lazily stroked him as you looked up at him, spit collecting at the corners of your mouth. “I’m not gonna last long if you keep doin’ that,” his laugh eased some of the tension in the room, as you took your other hand and wiped the spit away.

He leaned down, pressing a fervent kiss to your lips before using his own hands to unclasp your bra and let your breasts free. His lips traveled to the side of your neck, before he was kneeled down between your legs, sucking your nipple into his mouth. He lapped at you, all consuming, as his hand came up to grasp the other breast that wasn’t being serviced. He moaned at the noises you were making, lewd whines into the night air that only encouraged him.

His lips made their way down your body to your clothed centre, your back against his soft sheets. You looked down at him intently, watching as he pulled your panties down your legs and immediately delved into your pussy with broad strokes of his tongue.

Your body jerked upwards at the contact, hand fisting the sheet beside you as he lapped at you, like a man starved. His expert tongue found your clit easily, sucking and licking at you for what felt like hours. You thought about his heavy cock between his legs, begging to be touched, hard as ever as he licked at you desperately.

“Joel,” you whined out, feeling your hand reach down to grab at his curls and push him deeper into you. That only made him moan, one hand lazily fisting his cock as the other came up to dip a finger into you, allowing you to see stars when you screwed your eyes shut.

His fingers were so large, pressed into your core as you fucked yourself on them and his tongue in tandem. He was groaning and grunting, and you hoped his neighbours couldn’t see into the window at the desperate filth that was going on in his bedroom.

“Fuck, Joel, please,” you begged, but he had no mercy, and your orgasm was creeping up on you. He was ready to watch you come undone, pushing a second finger into you and furiously sucking on your clit. His other hand left his own pleasure and wrapped around your breast, pressing and playing with the hard nub there, pinching to provide a little bit of sting to it. It was sending you into another dimension.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” and his voice is gravely and debauched, enough to send you into your first orgasm, chanting his name and pulling on his hair. He was happily licking at you, fingers still pressing in and out as to not mess up the rhythm, as you rode out your orgasm against his face.

When you started to come down, he finally detached himself from you before standing up between your legs and pressing his broad palms to your thighs. He stayed there for a moment, cock still hard and heavy between his legs as you gazed up at him, out of breath from his work.

“You’re really good at that,” was all you could think to say, head clouded with arousal. You moved up on the bed a little, opening your legs and pressing your knees apart to show your pussy to him again.

“Please fuck me, Joel,” you breathe out, letting your hand find your own clit to rub it teasingly for him. It was still so sensitive, but the way he was looking down at you, eyes dark and stormy with need, you could almost come again just from that.

He put a knee down on the bed and crawled on top of you, his lips finding yours once again as your hands found his face. You held him there, savouring the kiss as his tongue crashed against yours, all warmth and spit and the taste of you. His hand found your breast and continued to play with your nipples, softly, coaxing more moans into his mouth from yours.

He leaned back and slipped his cock inside of you, filling you up immediately and making you gasp. He groaned into the side of your neck, tonguing the side of your ear and kissing you feverishly as he pumped in and out of you.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him impossibly close, your moans filling the room as he rocked in and out of you. He kissed your jaw and chest, before reaching down between your bodies and pressing his thick finger to your clit again, using the wetness there to draw circles around your sensitive nub.

“So pretty,” he smiles into your neck, your hand on the back of his, playing with the now-sweaty strands of hair on the nape. “So pretty for me, taking my cock,” the dirty talking is welcome as he continues to bring you closer to a second orgasm, your breath hitching once again.

“Come inside of me,” you say it like a whisper, a secret in the stillness of the room, and Joel is unsure he even heard you correctly.

“Are you sure?” He says it not accusingly, but in a way that conveys he feels like he just won the lottery.

“Yes, please, fill me up.”

You can see the way his eyes darken more, shifting so he’s on his knees and using your body to fuck himself on his thick cock. His hand continued to play with your clit, bringing you so close to your orgasm that tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. His cheeks were getting hot as he thrusted in and out furiously, and you could almost see the stress melt off of his face as he came close to his own undoing.

The white-hot feeling washes over you once again, eyes shutting before you’re back on your elbows and watching intently. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire as his thrusts become sloppy, your name pouring out of his lips like a prayer. You’re clenching around him and letting him ride out his high alongside you, slowing after his hot cum coats your walls and leaves you full of him.

He collapses on top of you, cock softening inside as you both catch your breath together. Your chests are sticky with sweat as you breathe, taking in the smell of him, and the feel of his warmth on your body.

He pulls himself from you and flops beside you, still taking a moment to admire you. You look over at him, a lazy smile on your face as your hand reaches out to caress the skin of his chest. He takes the time to run his fingertips up your arms and back as you lay there in silence together, just soaking in the moment in a post-sex glow.

“I guess I should get going,” you say after a few beats, sitting up to grab your dress off the floor. You cringe at the thought of throwing your underwear on and leaving, this being just another random hookup for you that never lead to anything. Joel was sweet.

A confused look spreads across his features and his brows knit together, before sitting up next to you at the edge of the bed.

“I mean, I don’t know how these things usually go,” he laughs, as his hand finds your lower back. “But you don’t gotta run outta here like a scared animal or somethin’.”

You look up at him again, unsure of what to do next. In your, albeit limited, experience with dating app hookups, you were expected to leave pretty much right after.

“Oh, um,” you look around the room at the soft worn-in sheets and the TV across from Joel’s bed. You take a look at him again, your eyes meeting his to match his gaze, where you can tell he’s mentally begging that you’ll stay the night.

“I mean, if you don’t mind, I’d be happy to stay.” Joel smiled lopsidedly and let his hand rub soothing circles at your lower back.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he laughs, stepping over to go into the bathroom and warm up a cloth for the mess spilling out from between your legs. “I wouldn’t mind wakin’ up and doing all that again tomorrow.”

You laugh and lay back onto his bed as he presses the warm cloth to your pussy, his lips once again finding yours to pull you in for a sweet kiss.

You nod, sliding between the comfortable sheets as Joel runs downstairs to grab your abandoned drinks as well as a couple of bottles of ice cold water. He slips into the sheets next to you, not bothering to throw on any pajamas (not that you were complaining), and settling in beside you. After a few gulps of water, you nestled into his chest and let your hand find his tummy, resting on it as you listened to the even pattern of his breath.

“We should do this again. Like, after tomorrow morning.” you say quietly as you’re drifting in and out of sleep. His fingertips continues to slide across your arm and give you goosebumps as you snuggled closer into him, hearing a laugh exhale out of his nose and feeling a kiss press to the top of your head.

In his sleepy, deep southern drawl, he replies. “Don’t have to ask me twice, darlin’.”

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic

2K notes · View notes

hvseung · 5 months ago

Text

back to campus (l. hs)

pairing: heeseung x female!reader

genre: enemies who fuck, one shot, pwp

warnings: explicit smut, public sex, profanity, passing out, jealous and possessive behaviour, minors DNI!

wc: 5k

.｡.:*:.:**:.☆*.｡.:*:.:*.｡.:*:.:**:.☆*.｡.:*:.:*

Under the dim glow of streetlights, Heeseung glided effortlessly across the smooth pavement, the cool night air nipping at his cheeks. Tonight, the streets were unusually quiet, save for the rhythmic hum of his skateboard and the occasional distant car passing by. As he rounded a corner, his eyes caught sight of someone ahead, completely absorbed in their phone, oblivious to the world around them.

He almost instinctively rolled his eyes as he recognised the figure to be you, caught in the glow of your screen, navigating the deserted pathway with unwavering focus. Heeseung's brow furrowed slightly as he slowed his pace, watching from a distance. Despite the longstanding rivalry that simmered between the two of you, a flicker of concern tugged at him. He knew this hour held its own dangers, especially for a woman walking alone.

Heeseung hesitated, debating whether to call out a warning or simply skate past. The decision loomed as he stood there, contemplating their unexpected intersection in the nocturnal stillness of the streets.

"What the fuck are you doing out here?" He calls, causing you to flinch, quickly turning on your heel to face him. As soon as you meet his gaze, you roll your eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing out here?" You sourly retort back. Heeseung lifts his skateboard into view, signalling his actions for being out so late at night.

"Skating," he said dryly, raising an eyebrow. "What's your excuse?"

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. "Not that it's any of your business, but I'm walking home."

"At this hour?" Heeseung asked, his skepticism clear. "Where were you?"

"Not that it's any of your business" you repeated, turning to walk away. Heeseung kicked off the ground, gliding to keep pace with you.

"You're so stubborn" He mutters, his voice edging with irritation "Why do you have to be so difficult all the time, it's no wonder you cant get along with anyone"

"Because I don't need you to look out for me. Who are you? My dad?" You quicken your pace, hoping he'd take the hint and leave you alone, but he only speeds up, his skateboard clattering against the pavement.

"No, I'm not your damn dad. But I can't just let you walk around outside of campus this late at night. Youre such an idiot." He scolded, keeping up with you effortlessly

"Stop following me. You look like a desperate pervert." Your back was still turned to him, but he quickly swerves infront of you. You to abruptly stop as he blocks your path, towering over you.

He looks down at you with narrowing eyes and his jaw clenches "I'm not going anywhere until I make sure you get back to campus safely, so shut your smart mouth and start walking"

"And im supposed to believe that? What do you really want? Spit it out." You fold your arms, firmly stood in your spot. Heeseung rolled his eyes, annoyed with your stubbornness. He crosses his arms, mirroring your pose and looking down at you with a mix of irritation and... something else in his eyes.

"I'm trying to make sure you're safe, idiot," He said gruffly. "Is that so hard to believe? I may not like you, but I can't just let you walk around out here late at night by yourself."

You meet his gaze, desperate to challenge him, but as the night draws on and sleep begins to catch up with you, you decide against it. "Fine."

Heeseung smirked slightly, enjoying the fact that he had won this little battle of wills. He pushed his skateboard out from under his feet and kicked it up, catching it in his hand. "Finally, you learned how to cooperate," He said, starting to walk beside you. "I can't believe you were going to walk back to the campus by yourself. What were you thinking?"

You both walked side by side in silence for a few moments, the only sound was the quiet rustle of the night air. Heeseung glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his mind working on something. "You know, you never answered my question," he said suddenly, breaking the silence. "Where were you that you're coming back so late?"

"A friend's." You say dryly, trying to keep communication to a minimum.

Heeseung raised an eyebrow at your vague answer, sensing that there was something more to the story. "A friend's...?" he repeated, his tone skeptical. "What kind of friend? A boyfriend?"

"Wouldn't you like to know..." You smirk, scoffing lowly.

His jaw clenches involuntarily at your smirk. A sudden wave of possessiveness shot through him. The thought of you with someone else, especially a boyfriend, irritated him more than he cared to admit. "Yeah, I would like to know," he said gruffly, trying to keep his cool. "So answer the damn question."

"I was at Sunghoons house. Happy?" You smile sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

Heeseungs eyes widened slightly in surprise at the mention of Sunghoon's name, a pang of jealousy clenching at his chest. "Sunghoon?" he repeated, his voice laced with annoyance. "What the hell were you doing at his place this late at night?"

"You know, for someone who 'hates my guts'," you quote his past words with your fingers "you sure want to know a lot about me, dont you?"

Heeseung's eyes narrowed, his irritation only growing at your sarcastic remark. He clenched his jaw, trying to reign in his emotions, but your sassy attitude was getting under his skin. He let out a frustrated huff. "It's called concern, smartass. I don't need to hate you to want to know that you're safe."

He continued to walk, his steps increasingly aggressive as he tried to tamp down the jealousy that was brewing in his chest. The thought of you with anyone, especially someone like Sunghoon, made him more than just irritated. "So spill, Princess, what were you doing at Sunghoon's place?"

Your head snaps at the nickname, your face contorting into what can only be described as pure disgust "Do not call me that. And its none of your fucking business"

A cruel smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he noticed your reaction to the pet name. He had hit a nerve and he reveled in it. He takes a step closer to you, towering over you. "Oh, what's the matter, Princess? Don't like that nickname, hm?" He taunted, his voice low and mockingly sweet.

You stopped walking, turning to face him. "What is your problem? You're just pissing me off on purpose now."

Heeseung chuckled darkly as you stopped and turned back to him. He takes a step closer, closing the gap between you and him, until he's standing so close that you have to tilt your head back to meet his eyes properly. "Oh, Princess, you have no idea. I haven't even started to piss you off yet."

He takes another step, his body now mere inches away from yours. He leans down, his breath hot against your ear. "And trust me, I can do a lot worse than just call you Princess."

"Fuck you." You spit, attempting to walk away again, but Heeseungs hand closes around your wrist like a vice, stopping you from walking away. He yanks you back, his grip tight and unyielding. "Oh no, you're not going anywhere." He spins you around, pinning you against the wall, his body pressing against yours.

"What the fuck?"

"Tell me what you were doing at Sunghoons house" His gaze is firm

"What? Are you jealous?" You smirk at him mockingly.

Heeseungs breath catches in his chest as your mocking smirk digs under his skin, making his frustration flare. "Jealous? Me? Of some idiot like Park Sunghoon?" he scoffs, but his voice lacks its usual confidence. "Don’t flatter yourself."

"Then why do you wanna know? Hm? Your practically itching to know what me and Sunghoonie were up to." You coo with a shit eating smirk playing on your lips.

His jaw clenches at the sound of the pet name you've given Sunghoon, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "I just... just..." His voice trails off, struggling to come up with a reasonable response. He hates the effect you have on him, the way you can disarm him so easily.

"Yeah, thats what I thought," you smirk "Seungie is jealous"

Heeseung grits his teeth, your smugness only fueling his frustration further. "Shut up," he snaps, his eyes narrowing. "I'm not jealous, damnit." His body presses against you, trapping you against a wall. He leans in closer, his face now inches away from yours, his breath hot against your skin. "I just... I just don't want you around another guy. Especially not him."

You groan as my back hits the cold brick wall. "As if you're in any position to want things like that."

Heeseung's fingers dig into your waist as he pins you against the wall, his eyes locking with yours in a challenging stare. "And why not?" He retorts, his voice gruff and annoyed. "Why am I not in a position to want that?"

"Because I cant fucking stand you." You spit.

Heeseungs jaw clenches at your blunt honesty, his grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your skin. "But that doesn't change the fact that you being with Sunghoon- or any other guy- pisses me off." He closes the remaining distance between you, his body fully pressed against yours. His head dips down, his lips hovering just above your ear, his voice a low, hot whisper. "You shouldn't be with him, Princess. You should be with me."

"Heeseung what the fuck are you-"

He cuts you off, his patience running thin. He grips your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Shut up and listen," he snaps, his voice harsh but edged with a hint of something else. "I'm tired of pretending to hate you. I'm tired of pretending that I don't care. Because the truth is, I do care. I care way too much."

"What are you even talking about? Do you hear yourself right now?!" Your in complete disbelief. Where the fuck is this all coming from?

Heeseung groans in frustration, clearly struggling with his own emotions. He releases your chin and steps back, raking a hand through his hair. "I'm talking about the fact that I can't stop thinking about you. The fact that I can't stand the thought of you with someone else, especially Sunghoon. The fact that I'm so damn jealous of anyone who gets your attention. You drive me crazy."

Your brain short circuits, not being able to keep up with his wavering emotions. But also because it cant keep up with your wavering emotions. Your constant up and down battle with yourself as he spills his secrets. "Heeseung-"

"Just... just be honest with me," he says, his hands twitching at his sides, aching to touch you again. He takes a tentative step closer, closing the space between you again, his voice lower now, almost pleading. "Tell me you feel something too. Tell me I'm not crazy for wanting this... for wanting you."

At this point, you cant even deny it. You would be lying if you said you didn't feel the same, and you would be lying even more if you said you hadn't felt this way for months. You don't know what it is about him. You cant stand him, thats not a lie. But he's just so... tempting? If thats even the right word to uss. "You're not... you're not crazy."

As soon as the words leave your lips, his restraint snaps. Heeseung closes the distance between you again, his lips crashing into yours in a desperate, hungry kiss. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you against him, his body pressed tightly against yours.

You cant help but moan against his lips, kissing him back with just as much need and desperation. His grip on you tightens as he feels your moan against his lips, his tongue darting into your mouth. He deepens the kiss, devouring you like a man starved. His hands wander across your body, needing to touch as much of you as possible.

He pushes you back against the wall, his lips never leaving yours. His body presses against you, his body heat and the hard planes of muscles pressed against your chest. One of his hands tangles in your hair, holding your head in place as he kisses you with a possessiveness that surprises even him. He pulls away for a brief moment, panting as he looks at you, his eyes dark and filled with an intense desire.

"You're mine," he says, his voice rough and possessive. "You hear me? Mine. I won't let anyone else touch you." He captures your lips again, his kiss bruising and demanding. He pushes one of his legs between your thighs, pressing his body even tighter against yours, wanting to feel every inch of you.

You gasp at the sudden contact against your sensitive core. "Heeseung-"

He growls at the sound of his name on your lips, the desire only growing stronger. He breaks the kiss, his lips moving to your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down the sensitive skin. His hands slide down your body, gripping your hips possessively as he nips and sucks at your neck. He grinds his leg against your pussy, a shudder going through his body as he feels how needy you are for him.

You tip your head back, softly moaning, completely oblivious to the fact that you're still in public. Heeseung notices you tipping your head back, the sound of your moan shooting straight to his groin, making his mind go fuzzy. He nips at your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin, leaving small, red marks in their wake. "God, the sounds you make..." he growls, his voice rough and strained, "You're driving me crazy, Princess."

Your lips silently part as his knee brushes against your clit, making your hips stutter. Heeseung can't help but smirk, his dominant nature taking over. He grabs your hip with one hand, pressing you back against the wall, his body fully pinning you to the spot. His other hand slides up to your hair, gripping it and tilting your head back.

"You like that?" he growls, his words punctuated by another grind of his knee against your sensitive skin. He leans down, his lips just millimeters from your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "You're so fucking eager, aren't you? So desperate for my touch."

You nod eagerly, practically whimpering as you reach down to grip the lining of his shirt to keep yourself grounded. The sound of a passing car pulls you out of your haze, finally remembering your surroundings and just how public this was.

He chuckles at your eagerness, the sight of you whimpering and grasping at his shirt only adding fuel to the fire. But then he too is pulled out of the moment as the sound of a passing car hits his ears.

He hesitates for a second, knowing they should stop and find a more private place, but the sight of you, flushed and wanting, makes it increasingly difficult to pull away. Heeseung grabs your elbow firmly and drags you around the corner into a dimly lit alleyway. The alley was barely visible from the street, ensuring them some much-needed privacy. It wasn't common that people would come down this alley way as it serves practically no purpose, but in the rare case that it were to happen, we were pretty much unnoticeable in the shadows.

His body presses yours against a cool brick wall, taking a moment to look at you, his eyes running over your flushed face, your heaving chest, your parted lips. His hands grip your hips tightly, lifting you up off the ground, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist to keep your balance.

Unlike you, Heeseung was thanking the gods that you wore a skirt today, making it so much easier to grind his growing buldge against your clothed pussy, the friction causing his eyes to shut tightly as he lets out a low, guttural moan. He leans down, his lips moving to your neck, his teeth nipping and sucking at the skin, determined to leave his mark on you.

You let out a small whimper, wrapping your arms around his shoulder to keep your balance as you roll your hips against his. Thats when he decides, he needs to taste you.

Heeseungs eyes lock with yours, a feral glint in them, as he puts you down. He sinks to his knees in front of you, his hands sliding up your thighs and shoving your skirt over hour ass as they go.

His teeth nip at the inside of your thighs, causing you to whine his name, pushing his hair back to make eye contact with him. He grins against your skin at the sound of his name on your lips, the feeling going straight to his already aching groin. His tongue traces a line up your inner thigh, his hands gripping your hips to keep you from moving away. He takes his sweet time, his tongue and teeth trailing over every inch of skin, determined to taste and touch as much of you as possible. He hums against your skin, the vibration sending shivers through your body.

"Heeseung- please." You whine, your lips jutting out into a small pout. He looks up, noticing the growing wet patch in the center of your panties. He licks his lips, hooking his fingers under your waistband of your underwear before pulling them down, revealing your glistening pussy.

"Fuck baby. Is this all for me?" He groans, his eyes practically devouring you. He leans forward, his lips ghosting over your core, watching as globs of wetness pour out. He moves even closer, his hot breath mixing with the cold air, the contrast making your skin prick with goosebumps.

He lifts a singular finger, rubbing it between your folds and collecting your wetness, before bringing it to his mouth and sucking it clean, moaning at the taste of you against. He grips at one of your thighs, hoisting it over his shoulder before pulling you down to sit on his face, his tongue darting out to part your folds.

He wraps his arms around your thighs, holding you in place as his tongue starts to explore, licking and tasting as much as he can. His hands grip your thighs, his grip tight and almost possessive, as if he's afraid you'll slip away from him. You whine loudly, balling his hair between your fists.

"Fuck." You whine, tipping your head back as he sucks and licks at your pussy. He grins against you as he hears your curse, the sound massively swelling his ego. He doubles his efforts, his tongue working quicker and harder as it flicks in and out of your aching hole, his nose brushing against your clit, trying to take you apart with just his mouth.

You cry out loudly, your fingers ripping at his scalp. He hisses, the sound transforming into a deep moan as the pain only serves to fuel the fire burning inside him. He feels you clench around his tongue, the sensation nearly driving him over the edge. He can tell you're close, the way your hips are rolling against his mouth, spreading your wetness around his chin.

He harshly sucks at your clit and then pulls away just before you're able to reach your peak, a wicked grin on his face. "You didn't really think I was going to let you cum that easily, did you?" He laughs dryly.

"No no- please Heeseung. I was so close." You whine loudly, feeling your release painfully slipping away from you.

He stands up, grinning down at you, amused by the desperate tone in your voice. He leans down, his lips just centimeters from your ear, his breath hot against your skin "Oh, sweetheart, I know you were close. That's why I stopped."

"You're a fucking asshole." You spit breathlessly. "Just can't help yourself, can you?"

He smirks, knowing you have absolutely no idea whats coming. He leans closer, his voice low and rough. "You have no idea, princess. I haven't even started yet."

He pulls you further into the alley, bending you over a nearby car. He pushes your chest against the bonnet, pulling your hips back to press against his very obvious boner. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel his clothed dick prodding against your core.

"You have no fucking idea how bad I want you right now." He groans, rolling himself against you. "Now be a good girl and stay still. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes." You say meekly, nodding eagerly.

"Yes who?" He spits

"Yes sir." You whine, rubbing yourself against his bulge, desperate for any sort of friction.

He grins at the sound of your submission, his grip on your hip tightening just a little bit as he hums in approval. "Good girl."

He grins at the sight of you obediently waiting, his hands moving to his pants, unbuckling the belt and slowly pulling the zipper down. He makes sure to take his time, wanting to draw out the teasing. His eyes never leave your face, wanting to see every reaction he can, every flutter of your eyelashes, every bite of your lip, every quickened breath.

You were aching at this point, throbbing as the cold air hits your bare core. "Please Heeseung." You whine, desperate to feel him.

You hear as his belt drops to the floor behind you, then his jeans. You bite your lip in anticipation. He reaches around, placing his hand infront of your mouth. "Spit."

You follow his command immediately, shooting a glob of spit into his palm. He takes his hand, rubbing up and down his sensitive shaft to lube himself up. You gasp as he feel his tip prodding against you, smearing precum all over my folds. He was teasing you, and he was fucking enjoying it.

"Just fucking do it already." You snap, your patience wearing thin.

"Eager, are we?" He chuckles before pushing into me, bottoming out completely. Your breath catches in my chest as he knocks the wind out of you.

"Holy fuck-" You cry out, his length and girth practically tearing you in half. He smirks at your reaction, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. He leans down, his lips trailing hot kisses up your neck, his voice low and rough in your ear

"Yeah, feel good doesn't it baby?" He growls against the shell of your ear, nibbling at your lobe. He grinds his hips slowly against yours, his eyes fluttering close. "Fuck your so tight baby." You can tell he's being slow on purpose. Hes teasing you, and the shit eating smirk on his face just confirms it. But you're getting impatient now.

"Stop teasing me and fuck me like you mean it." You snap, pushing your hips back to meet his.

"You want me to stop teasing baby? Because once I start, I'm not stopping." His voice is stern, almost like a warning for whats about to come.

"Yes!"

He finally caves, unable to resist any longer. His hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he slams his hips against yours, giving you no time to adjust. The friction of his veiny length rubbing against your walls sends waves of pleasure through both of your bodies. He groans loudly, the sound deep and primal, as he finally gives in to the need that's been building inside him all night.

You cry out, reaching for anything to grip onto the keep your knees from buckling underneath you. He reaches forwards, gripping your arms and pulling them behind you.

"Is this what you wanted, Princess?" He whispers, his lips moving to your neck, as he grinds against you with an almost desperate need. "To be fucked like the desperate slut you are?"

"Yes! Don't stop!" At this point, you've got absolutely no shame. You're a fucking mess as he slams his hips against you over and over and over, hitting the deepest spots inside you.

He lets out a deep, guttural moan at your words, the sound making his chest rumble against your back, a physical expression of the need that was coursing through his veins. “You’re so beautiful when you’re a mess, princess. So desperate for me aren't you? Such a fucking whore for this dick."

He reaches down, wrapping his bicep around your throat, pulling your back to rest against his chest. "Say it. Say your a whore for this dick baby."

"Yes! Im a whore for your dick Seung!" You cry out, the pressure around your throat mixed with the pleasure from the new angle making your head spin.

He grins at your reaction, the feeling of you submitting to him, completely at his mercy, fuelling the fire that’s burning inside of him. He tightens his grip around your throat, wanting to see how far he can push you. "Thats right baby, thats fucking right."

You gasp for air as he applies more pressure against your throat, the feeling making you lightheaded. He angles his hips differently, hitting that soft, spongy spot deep inside you, making your stomach tighten. You practically shriek, your toes curling in your shoes as his tip kisses against the pleasure point with every hard thrust. "Seung, I'm so close."

He tightens his bicep even more, his eyes never leaving your face, watching as you struggle against him, completely at his mercy. There’s a primal satisfaction in seeing you like this, completely and utterly his in this moment. "You gonna cum for me baby?"

You cant manage out any words due to the painful pressure on your throat. The painful pressure that feels so fucking good. You can feel yourself getting dizzy, the lack of oxygen and the pleasure just too overwhelming for your body to handle.

"Look at you. Your a complete mess. God, you look so good." Your walls clench tightly around him as you teeter on the edge of release.

"Oh fuck baby." He groans as he twitches inside you, signalling that he was just as close to cumming as you were. "Not yet, Princess. Not until I say so."

You squeak at his words, knowing you physically couldn't hold back any longer, but you were unable to verbalise that to him. Your nails stratch as his bicep, begging him to let you cum as your eyes brim with tears.

"You're so desperate, you can't even form words, can you, Princess?" He mocks, watching as you struggle for air, your body clenching against his, as you desperately try to hold yourself back. "Don't you dare cum yet. You'll cum when I say you can. You understand?"

He continues to relentlessly pound into me, sweat beading down his forehead and landing against your cheek. Your jaw hangs slack as your vision begins to go blurry. Heeseung can feel your struggles growing weaker, watching as your eyes go slightly unfocused. "Cum for me baby."

As soon as he gives you permission, the tightening knot in your stomach immediately snaps. You cry out loudly, clenching around him. He feels you tighten around him, the sensation sending a wave of pleasure through his body. He moans, his eyes practically rolling to the back of his head, his grip on your throat momentarily tightening as he feels his release hit down on him like a ton of bricks.

"Fuck!" He cries out, shooting his hot cum inside of you with a loud grunt. But it's all just too much for you, the grip around your throat and the pleasure completely taking over you, and now the feeling of his cum completely filling you to the brim.

Heeseung feels as your body goes limp in his arms and your head rolls forward, my cheek resting against his thick muscle. Realising you had momentarily passed out, catches you, taking the pressure off of your throat and wrapping his other arm around your waist to keep you upright against him. He gently cups your chin in his hand, tilting your head back against his shoulder so he can look at you, satisfied as he sees the blissful expression on your face.

He leans down, his lips gently resting against your temple, feeling your heart beat fast and erratic, a clear sign of what he’d just put you through. He holds your body against his, his grip protective and his voice gentle as he whispers into your ear. “I’ve got you.”

It takes you a minute to catch your breath, regaining the strength to stand on your own. You turn around, sitting down to rest against the car bonnet as you pant heavily. You can feel his release slipping out of you, pooling in-between your thighs.

Heeseung watches as you pant and gasp for air, his eyes raking over your body, taking in every detail, every bite and every mark that littered my soft skin. He can’t help but smirk at the sight, knowing he’d done that to you. He cups your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. "So beautiful.”

You hum in response, nuzzling against his touch. He chuckles, his hand moving to gently brush your hair away from your face, a stark contrast to the aggressive nature that was coursing through him just a few minutes ago. His eyes take in your wrecked appearance. He can still see the flush on your skin, your eyes glassy and hazy, and he feels a possessiveness stirring within him at the sight. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." You smile up at him

"Are you sure? I've never had a girl pass out on me like that before." He chuckles awkwardly, pulling his jeans back up.

"Really, I'm good. That was... fucking amazing." You reassure him, reaching for your discarded panties.

"I'm glad." He offers you his hand, watching as your knees turn inwards a little as you stand.

"Anyway, should we get you back to campus?"

──────────────────────

@ hvseung, 2024. do not repost or reuse in anyway. thankyou :)

──────────────────────

first post, kinda nervy

#enhypen #lee heeseung #kpop #fanfic #smut #enhypen smut #pwp #heeseung #heeseung enhypen #lee heeseung smut #kpop smut #fanfiction

833 notes · View notes

bangtanficsforyou · 2 months ago

Text

Deep Learning (JJK)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: SMUT. PWP. JUST READY TO GET DOWN AND DIRTY. THAT'S THE GENRE, YES.

Rating: 18+

Summary: Getting tutored by the school nerd sounds boring. Well that is, until you, tease him.

Word count: 5K

Warning: it's just porn without ANY plot 😩, or^l (f receiving), ti^^y sucking, fing^^^ng, p in v s^x, d^^ty talk if it counts, protected sex (cause Jungkook is a nerd, OFC HE'S SMART), there's some degra^^^^on, they do it on the table, he ties her hands up, he stuffs her mouth with her underwear, he spits, he smacks her cl*t and idk what else 🤏🏻😩

This is a Patreon exclusive for the $8 tier.

You hesitate for a split second before ringing the doorbell. You wouldn’t ever admit it out loud but you’re nervous.

Being part of the ‘cool squad’ in your high school meant you were one of those cool people, people thought twice before messing with. However, you don’t think you will look so cool today.

You ring the doorbell once more, your patience running thin because you really want to get over this as quickly as possible.

A faint “I’m coming” greets your ears and you sigh, preparing yourself for whatever it is that will greet you once the door opens.

However, nothing could have prepared you for a shirtless, breathless, sweaty Jeon Jungkook opening the door.

Damn, you think, he’s hot.

In the years that you have seen Jeon Jungkook in the hallways and in the classes you have shared, you never thought that under all those baggy clothes, he was this ripped. Let us not forget the tattoos that decorate the smooth expanse of skin.

Your eyes which were busy checking him out, snap up to meet his, when you hear him speak.

“Oh, it’s you.”

You notice the red cheeks and shy downcast gaze, as he refuses to meet your eyes. You immediately take the opportunity to have the upper hand.

“Yes, it’s me Jeon,” you say with a coy smile. “You sure know how to make an impression.”

“N-I-I didn’t know—I mean you are right on time.”

You understand that Jungkook had assumed that you wouldn’t show up. That you were way too cool to get tutored and admit that you needed help.

You smirk. “I’d have come earlier had I known this was how you were planning to greet me.”

Jungkook blushes even harder but refuses to acknowledge your words. “Please come in.”

With an amused smile still lingering on your lips, you walk inside his house.

“You can go upstairs, I’ll just put up a shirt and join you,” Jungkook still refuses to meet your gaze, the fact that he’s half naked, making it impossible for him to match your gaze.

“Sure,” you respond with a small giggle as you think you have the entire situation under control. You don’t have to worry about embarrassing yourself if you keep turning Jungkook into a flustered mess.

With a bullet-proof plan and a small smirk, you head upstairs.

#jungkook x reader #Jungkook smut #Jungkook fluff #Jungkook au #Jungkook scenarios #Jungkook ff #Nerd Jungkook #Popular reader #Jungkook pwp #jungkook oneshot #Jungkook drabble #Fic: deep learning

192 notes · View notes

nataliasquote · 10 months ago

Text

Can’t You See This Is Breaking Me? | n romanoff

Summary: Natasha isn’t quite ready to give her entire life for the woman she loves

Warnings: injuries, blood, stitches, no happy ending

wc: 5.2k

note: this idea was given to me by @katyaromanoffpetrova (love you 🤍) and she’s fuelling my love hate relationship with angst. Also, this was so hard to condense, so I’m sorry if it’s lacking detail. I tried to cram three years of a relationship into 5k words :)

-⧗-

It was no secret to anyone how little regard Natasha had for her own life. Even since her very first Shield mission, she’d been a force to be reckoned with, partly down to her pure destructive nature. She didn’t care if taking down Hydra agents meant coming away with a bullet wound or two. Or if destroying an enemy testing laboratory meant four broken ribs and a cracked collar bone. As long as the job was done, that was all she cared about.

Nick Fury was getting tired of how many lectures he had given a young, 25 year old Natasha in his office when he’d read her completed mission report. He knew why she had such a blatant disregard for her life but it didn’t make it any easier seeing one of his best agents beaten and bruised each week. The redhead barely flinched when her wounds were inspected, but to be honest she didn’t really react to anything.

She was more of a ghost really, a pale figure soundlessly walking the halls at night. If her injuries didn’t let keep her awake at night, then the nightmares gladly took their turn, drenching her entire body in a cold sweat and leaving her shivering in her tangled sheets. But if the dark circles under her eyes looked worse, her friend and mentor Clint didn’t utter a word.

The structure and routine that manifested week by week kept her grounded and focused. Wake up, train, eat, surveillance, sleep. Missions were a welcome break from the otherwise monotonous rhythm Natasha had found herself in. She much preferred working solo as opposed to in a team, but Shield was all about team work so she had to suck it up.

A lot of the time she found herself alongside Clint Barton who weirdly offered her a feeling of comfort. She liked how he never pried too much into how she was feeling, or her past, but kept a look out for her whenever they were together. Her icy demeanour slowly melted away thanks to his warmth that he never failed to show her.

He showed her how to let people in, how to not keep her heart so tightly guarded in fear of actually feeling something about someone. And as much as she would hate to admit it, he was right. It did feel better knowing people cared about her. But it also terrified her at the same time. Vulnerability wasn’t her strong suit.

Yet somehow she had managed to let her tough exterior be pushed aside just long enough for a certain someone to wiggle her way in and take up permanent residence inside the redhead’s mind.

Y/n Y/l/n wasn’t really anyone compared to Natasha. Sure, she was a shield agent, and a high ranking one at that, but that was nothing compared to an Avenger. She’d spend years in their shadow, always looking up to Natasha Romanoff. I mean, who wouldn’t? She’s pretty badass.

But the young agent thought her relationship with said Avenger would end at idolisation and daydreaming. She never expected to suddenly be living amongst them in the compound. But when an empty training room was suddenly disrupted at three in the morning, it was a sign things were to change forever.

Y/n relished the silence that the training room at night brought. Most of her colleagues preferred to train in a group at 7am, but insomnia often brought her into the gym a lot earlier. She loved it though; a way to clear her head and exhaust her body whilst maintaining peak physical fitness required in case of a last second mission.

Lost in a world of music playing through her headphones, Y/n failed to notice the door slowly open, caught up in her boxing routine on the punch bag. She should have been more aware of her surroundings, like she’d been trained, so that she didn’t nearly jump out of her skin as a voice cut through her music.

“You’re gonna get a sore back if you keep using the wrong form.”

Without having ever met in person, Y/n would recognise that voice anywhere. She whipped around and quickly pulled her headphones off around her neck, cheeks flushing as she took in the woman in front of her.

A black sports bra and navy sweatpants was all that adorned Natasha’s toned body. She stood there with a hand on her hip, the other holding a small towel, a water bottle and her own pair of headphones. Y/n desperately tore her eyes away from the widow’s toned abs, feeling her own insecurities creep upwards. She itched for her sweatshirt that lay discarded on the bench just out of reach. That was the last time she ever trained in a sports bra.

“You keep twisting your back as you punch. You need to move from your hips.” Y/n just looked at her with surprise, not fully processing that they were having a conversation at all. “Do you want me to show you?”

“Yeah, sure.” That snapped her out of her trance. Y/n took a step back and allowed Nat to place her things down before she packed a swift punch to the bag, sending it swinging slightly on its stand. Y/n couldn’t lie, she looked really good, arm muscles tensed as she threw a few more punches. Her form was impeccable, but of course it was.

“When you swing round you have to rotate your hips for momentum. Just turning from your back will cause injury.” Y/n nodded, mirroring her stance on the punching bag beside Natasha. “Unless you’re doing lots of smaller ones, then you need to keep your hips still. That just comes from your shoulders.”

Nat threw a few more punches before Y/n copied, missing the small smile that broke out on the Russian’s lips as she observed. Fast learner, she noted, nodding in approval as Y/n turned back to her.

“Very good.” She bent down to grab her things, back muscles on full show to Y/n who just could not stop staring. You’d think she was used to the sight of toned bodies after working out everyday, but there was something different about Natasha and she couldn’t quite work it out.

“Thank you. I’m Y/n, by the way. I work in-“

“I know who you are,” Natasha said casually, looking the woman up and down. “You work with Hill. She talks about you.”

Y/n’s eyes went wide. “She does?”

Nat smirked. “Yeah, why? Does she not talk about me?”

“No, she does- we do-“ what happened to calm and collected shield agent she once was? Reduced to a stuttering mess of words in front of a pretty redhead. God, Y/n cursed herself for not being able to talk to women.

“I’m joking, don’t worry.” Natasha gave her a soft smile before walking off to the weights section, her headphones shutting out the world so she could focus.

Y/n however, could not focus on anything except that brief interaction. It was probably so small in Natasha’s life, yet it would consume Y/n for at least a week, if not more. Maria was going to have a field day with this.

Except it wasn’t small in Natasha’s life. The flustered agent had left quite a mark and Natasha found herself creeping down to the gym at 3am most mornings, hoping to see the woman she’d grown to love so much. And, more often than not, Y/n was there, punching away at the bag and pausing when Nat came in.

Over a course of many weeks, both had changed their training plans to match each other. It felt nice working out with another, Natasha had to admit, and Y/n was so easy to talk to she set the redhead right at ease. They talked and laughed and Y/n noticed how the usually uptight Russian had come out of her shell a lot more since that very first night.

However, one night didn’t go so smoothly. Y/n was in the training room first, of course. She sat on the bench and adjusted her socks, keeping herself busy until Natasha arrived. The past couple of nights had been just her as the redhead had been on a mission, but Maria informed her that she would return tonight, so Y/n anxiously awaited her return. She was more worried about Natasha than she let on, but they had no relationship outside of those four walls so she bounced her knee, willing her new friend to walk through the doors.

And she did. Except this wasn’t the confident Natasha she usually knew. No, this Natasha was walking stiffly, almost as if she was in pain.

“Nat?” Y/n asked, standing hesitantly at the sight of her. Small cuts and bruises littered her face and what skin was exposed under the neck of her tactical suit. Agents always had to report to medical following their return from a mission, but by the looks of Natasha, she hadn’t done that. “Why- what are you doing here?”

“Can’t miss training with my favourite girl, now can I?” She tried to sound upbeat but it fell flat, her pain evident even in her voice.

Y/n pushed aside the butterflies that erupted in her chest at those words and sprung up to help her, guiding Natasha to the nearest bench and forcing her to sit. She took note of how Natasha’s hand tightly clutched her side and she feared the worst.

She thought for a second, feeling Natasha’s eyes all over her face. “May I…?” She gestured to the zip on Natasha’s suit and the redhead nodded, stiffly manoeuvring her arms out of her sleeves as Y/n tugged it down to her waist. The agent had switched to processional mode and ignored how close Natasha’s bra clad chest was to her face as she inspected her side.

“What happened?” She asked, crouching down with a hand gently resting on the redhead’s knee as she gently felt the skin around the wound.

“Some stupid agent snuck up on me and threw his knife. Shit aim though.” Of course she tried to make a joke, but Y/n wasn’t laughing as she looked into her eyes. The redhead almost wanted to roll her eyes, and she would have done if anyone else looked at her with pity like that, but Y/n was different. Safer.

“Why didn’t you go to medical?”

Nat looked down, averting her eyes. “I didn’t want to. I hate it there.”

Y/n knew not to push. She didn’t know much about Natasha’s past but knew enough to know that it must have been horrific to endure. She sat back on her heels and bit her lip in thought.

“Will you let me sort it? I keep a suture kit and supplies in my bathroom.” She caught Natasha’s eye and gently squeezed her knee, trying to establish enough trust between them to let her accept the help. But Natasha was stubborn, so there was truly no way of knowing which way she’d swing.

“Ok.” That was not the expected answer but Y/n was happy to hear it. She knew not to help Natasha up, the redhead probably would have punched her, so she collected her things and led them both back to her apartment, walking a bit slower than normal to help Natasha keep up.

Her room was nothing special and probably looked identical to Natasha’s as they both had Shield issued rooms. Although Natasha’s would be fancier thanks to Tony Stark and his upgrades.

There were no personal items on any of the surfaces, not even in the bedroom. Natasha looked around with a frown, not liking how bare everything seemed. Not homely, that’s for sure. Even the bedside cabinets were empty, not even a picture frame for decoration.

“Take a seat anywhere, I’ll be right out.” Natasha chose the couch by the small coffee table and sank down onto it. The couch wasn’t anything special and neither was the table, ring marks displaying its age and use on the surface. The overhead light was dim but brightened up as Y/n stepped back into the room, a medical kit tucked under her arm.

She worked in silence, only broken by a hiss of pain from Natasha as the alcohol stung her wound. Y/n muttered an apology under her breath but kept working, fingers brushing gently over the soft skin as she made light work of stitching it closed. They weren’t the neatest but they’d do the job just fine.

“Thank you for this,” Natasha spoke into the silence, her eyes fixed on her fingers that rested on her lap. “You didn’t have to.”

“Maybe not, but I wanted to. I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

Natasha stayed silent for a moment, trying to organise her thoughts. She had people who cared about her, the Avengers, but not quite like Y/n had. She didn’t care who Natasha was, or how well she could take down enemies. She just enjoyed her presence and cared for her as a human being, something she rarely felt like she was.

“Can I make this up to you?” She tentatively asked, the strong Black Widow now a weird mess of nerves. What even was this?

“No, you don’t have to-“

“Come out with me on Saturday, into the city. Can I buy you lunch?”

Y/n stifled her smile and hid her face whilst packing up her equipment. She knew Natasha was asking her out on a date, albeit in a very roundabout way. It warmed her heart though, seeing her so soft. It was a side very few people ever got to see.

“Ok, sure. I’d really like that.”

Natasha smiled. “Now I know where you sleep, I’ll come pick you up.”

Y/n scrunched her nose at the odd phrasing. “You had to make it weird.”

“You know me,” she replied with a wink.

~~~

That date was a catalyst for many more to follow, and many midnight training sessions too. It took six more months of flirting and secret meet ups before Natasha pulled her heart out and wore it on her sleeve, asking Y/n to be her girlfriend.

The agent wasn’t stupid, of course she said yes. And at first their relationship was purely in the honeymoon stages; sneaking kisses in the hallway, comforting touches underneath the table, more midnight training and also moving in together. Natasha’s apartment was bigger than Y/n could ever have imagined and she adored the bed, starfishing face down on the mattress the first time she saw it.

But that was two years ago. Sure, they were still very much in love but something had shifted between them, creating a rift that Y/n had started to notice more and more. She knew what was causing it too.

Natasha was going on missions every other week, for days at a time. And she’d fallen back into her old habits, putting the job and the result over the safety of herself. More times than not did she come battered and bruised, open wounds bleeding as she walked into the bedroom. Y/n begged her to stop, to stay home more, to reduce the amount she went on even just to one a month, but her desperate attempts were met with a slammed door and a wall in Natasha’s mind. But she still persisted, trying again the next time Natasha came home. But it was useless.

Y/n always waited up for her though, the nerves of what state Natasha would be in when she returned making sleep pretty much impossible. Whatever she imagined, somehow it was always worse. She used to quiz Natasha as she led her into the bathroom and patched her up, placing kisses on each bruise that she found.

But now they barely said a word, Y/n almost running on autopilot as she cleaned cuts on Natasha’s back for what felt like the millionth time. It was draining her, anyone could see that, and being on edge all the time had made Maria notice.

“Take a week off to clear your head,” her supervisor had ordered, not taking any protests into consideration. “I don’t want to see you in this office before next Thursday, Y/l/n.”

A week off would have been great for anyone else but her. Natasha was away, again, which left Y/n with no ways to fully distract herself like she usually did to cope. She spent the first day in bed, holding onto Natasha’s pillow as her tears soaked the pillowcase. She hated how out of control she felt when Natasha was gone. It was her job, yet Y/n often wished Nat would retire, or at least pull back from constantly being in the field. But that’s what her girlfriend loved, so she had no choice but to respect it.

But on the third day of very little sleep and increasing stress levels, Y/n hit breaking point. She stared at her ghostly reflection as she splashed her face with some water, trying desperately to snap herself out of the lie she was feeling. But under the glaring lights all she could focus on were the heavy bags under her eyes and her discoloured skin, pink blotches littering her cheeks and forehead. She’d been picking at her skin to cope, but it did nothing but make her look worse.

She remained a zombie all day, curling back under the covers at 7pm to shut out the world. There was no telling when Natasha would return but part of her didn’t want it to be yet. She didn’t want to see the state she was in, the mess that she’d have to clean up. She loved Natasha, she really did, but with no contact allowed on her missions and no updates from the team, Y/n was starting to question if their relationship was even working.

She flicked off the light and turned to face the wall, images flashing in front of her as she worried herself stupid about her girlfriend. What if she wasn’t coming home? What if she’d been kidnapped? What if-

The apartment door opened.

Y/n held her breath, pulling the covers tightly under her chin as she waited. She knew the sound of Natasha’s footsteps based on her different moods, but the assassin stepped so lightly it was hard to tell. She felt footsteps getting closer and closer and she squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to face the horrors to come. She wanted one more blissful moment, but her heart was racing in her chest and her throat was getting tight.

The bedroom door opened.

Light from the living room flooded in through the small gap as Natasha stepped through, brows furrowed at the darkness. It wasn’t that late, but maybe she’d missed something. Wasn’t like she was around much.

“Y/n?” She whispered, not wanting to turn the light on. But she didn’t need to worry about that when suddenly the room was bathed in light. Her girlfriend was sat up in bed, eyes blotchy as she stared at her with a hand on the light switch. “What happened?”

“What hurts?” Y/n asked, sliding off her side of the bed and padding over to the bathroom. “Stitches? Probably bruising too.” She was talking to herself more than Natasha, hands working to gather her supplies. But she was stopped when a pair of rough hands gathered hers inside them, tugging her away from the sink. “What are you doing?”

“I’m ok,” Natasha said, removing one of her hands to gently cup Y/n’s chin, tilting her eyes to meet her own. “Just a couple of bruised ribs, but that’s nothing.”

“At least let me look at them.” Natasha knew she wasn’t going to take no for an answer so she unzipped her suit and pulled it to her waist, revealing the nasty colourful sight. It was swollen and tender and Y/n cursed under her breath. She grabbed the tiger balm and gently applied it, trying to steady her shaking fingers as they touched Natasha’s skin.

“How have you been? How’s work?”

“Its fine, thanks.” Y/n wasn’t going to admit that Maria made her take a week off. She avoided Natasha’s gaze as she worked, even though there wasn’t much she could do for bruised ribs. “I’ll get you an ice pack when you’re dressed.” That was Natasha’s dismissal cue and she took it, but not without lingering in the doorway to watch Y/n for a moment.

By the time Natasha was dressed in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, Y/n had wrapped the ice pack in a towel and handed it to her. There was an uneasy tension between them and Natasha could see something was on Y/n’s mind, just waiting to be said.

“Y/n-“

“This is your last one, right?” She couldn’t help herself but blurt out. Somehow she found the confidence with her back to Nat, sitting on her side of the bed. “Please tell me it’s your last one.”

“Of what?”

“Your missions, Natasha.” She bent one knee and tucked it beside her as she turned her body to face Natasha who was still standing in the middle of the room, ice pack pressed to her ribs. “How many times are you going to keep doing this? Coming home in a state! I never know if one day you’re just not going to come home at all.”

Natasha bit her bottom lip. She knew this was going to happen, it always did. And shutting Y/n down didn’t exactly get easier with practice. “Don’t do this again Y/n, please. You know what my answer is.”

“No, Natasha. I’m not gonna accept that anymore. I’m not asking you to quit all together. I just mean reduce the number you go on, take up desk work or surveillance, just something, anything, to get you out of the firing line.” Y/n ran her hands over her face, trying to keep herself together. But the more she spoke, the stronger her emotions got. “I can’t live like this anymore!”

Natasha had placed her ice pack on the bed, not feeling the need to hold it up right now. She couldn’t move, even though she wanted to run to Y/n. “I know you don’t like it-“

“I hate it.”

“Ok fine, you hate it,” she held her hands up in defense. “But that doesn’t mean I suddenly have to stop.”

Y/n stood up from her position, not wanting an ache in her back from turning so much. She and Natasha were now at eye level although the redhead’s stoic face was a lot more composed than her own.

“You’re not listening to anything I say. I never said you had to stop. Ever. Because that would be hypocritical coming from me.” Natasha pulled a ‘sounds about right’ face which Y/n just ignored. “I’m just asking you to reduce the amount you go on. Once a month, maybe? You can still be in the action, still do everything you love, but that way you’re safer and you’re here more. I hardly see you.”

Natasha shook her head. “Our line of work isn’t safe Y/n, even you know that surely.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She was getting defensive, having reached her limit of Natasha trying to shut her down.

Natasha was too stubborn to give up, even when she knew she fucked up. She just couldn’t let it go. “You rarely leave this place! Always stuck in the same office, the same four walls going insane every day! I don’t know how you do it! I’d rather quit than do that.”

“I do that because I can still contribute to the missions without the risk of getting blown to hell,” Y/n spat, taking full offense to Natasha talking down about her job. Sure, she didn’t go into the field as much as the other agents but she preferred to be in the chair, handling everything from above. “And you know damn well those missions you love don’t work without someone like me.”

“And that’s great, for someone like you. But I can’t do that, you have to understand me. I can’t be behind the fight, I have to be in it.”

“No one else goes on as many as you do, Natasha. Don’t you think that just once, someone else can take a mission-“

“I don’t care Y/n!” Natasha may be a passionate person but she never raised her voice. So her elevated tone made Y/n’s jaw clench, her innate response whenever someone shouted at her. “You don’t get to dictate my life! That wasn’t our agreement-“

“Agreement? What, so this is, are we some kind of, I don’t know, contract that you’re obliged to?”

Natasha scoffed, her eyes rolling back at the pure ridiculousness of her statement. This whole argument was pointless really but she entertained it, too stubborn to give in or let Y/n win. “Oh come on, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’m just sick of lying here in fear every week wondering if you’re actually going to come home or not! I can’t keep doing this Nat.” Y/n was having a hard time keeping Natasha in her vision as tears blurred in her eyes. But she wouldn’t let them spill. Crying meant Natasha won and she was done with backing down.

“We can’t keep having this conversation, Y/n,” Natasha grunted, running her fingers through her hair and tugging out the messy braid. “You know I can’t stop. This is my life, it’s what I was made to do. I can’t live without this job!”

“And I can’t live without you!” Her voice cracked and a tear slipped down but she fought the urge to wipe it, praying Natasha didn’t see. But she did see. Of course she did. The Russian noticed everything.

Natasha went silent. That was the last thing she wanted to hear. In this line of work, relying so heavily on someone wasn’t a good idea. She knew that, it had been drilled into her since she was a child. But Y/n didn’t, and that’s where she slipped up.

“Don’t say that.” Heavy emotions and Natasha Romanoff didn’t really mix well. “You have to, one way or another. You can’t just rely on me Y/n.”

“Nat, I am in love with you but lately it feels like all you care about is your job. When is it going to feel like you actually want to be here? With me?”

“I do Y/n, I do-“

Y/n dropped her head. “I know there’s a but coming.”

Natasha looked at the defeated form of her girlfriend and winced. She never thought she’d ever be in the position where she had to choose between family and her job. But she knew what her choice would be, what it always had been. Long before she even had a family.

“This job means everything to me. I didn’t choose this life, like you did, I was forced into it. It’s part of who I am, and I can’t just stop doing that to be with you.” The second those words fell from her lips Natasha knew that was the wrong thing to say.

Y/n adjusted the collar of her shirt and started to pace. If she was sitting down her leg would have been bouncing all over the place.

“What, that’s it? You’re just gonna call this whole thing off because you can’t take a break from your job?”

“What ‘whole thing’?”

“Us, Natasha! Us!” Y/n stopped in her tracks, gesturing between them both. They were on opposite sides of the room, a clear divide in space and opinion. “Unless there isn’t an ‘us’ anymore. Maybe I’m just the girl who keeps your bed warm and stitches you up in the middle of the night, no questions asked. Occasionally gives you head if you are really in the mood-“

“Stop it Y/n.”

“Stop what? It’s the truth, isn’t it? That’s all I am to you.”

“‘No, you’re so much more.” Natasha’s fingers were fidgeting with each other and they’d stumbled across a small cut on her palm that they were now playing with, the pain trying to keep her grounded. “But you have to understand that I can’t just take a step back. I love this job more than anything because I actually get to do something good with my skills that have been used for the opposite my whole life. I just need you to understand that, please!”

“You’re not gonna stop, are you?” Natasha just stared at her, chewing on her bottom lip. “No matter what, you will keep coming back here in a mess and I will keep fixing you up and we will keep having this conversation. Is there an end to this?”

“I won’t come here then.” Natasha stated simply, eyes darting momentarily to the bathroom door. “I’ll go to medical, where I should be.”

“You hate it there.”

“You hate me here.”

Y/n sighed, her breath shaky. This was the longest they’d ever fought for, and fighting Natasha was mentally exhausting. She had an answer to everything.

“I don’t hate you here, I just wish you’d fucking listen to me for one goddamn second!” Natasha nodded, almost challenging her to speak.

“I am.”

“I didn’t want to say this, but you haven’t exactly given me much of a choice. It’s me or the job, Nat. You choose. And you know what? If you choose me, you still keep half your job! But if you choose the job, you don’t get to keep half of me.” The last part sounded stupid but Natasha knew what she meant. She only had half of Y/n right now. The half that slept in her bed and fixed her wounds. If she chose her, she’d get the other half she fell in love with back.

But she couldn’t, could she? Natasha looked down, not wanting to watch Y/n’s face respond. “I’m sorry…”

“Get out.” It was barely a whisper but Natasha heard it. “Get. Out.” Y/n didn’t want Natasha to see her cry but when their eyes met again, Y/n’s were flooded with tears. She didn’t care, how could she when the green ones staring back at her were so cold. Natasha didn’t say a word, only grabbing her sweatshirt and slipping out of the room. The faint jangle of her keys sounded as the door slammed shut and only then did Y/n allow her walls to come crumbling down.

She collapsed onto the bed, only this time hugging her own pillow close as she choked out her sobs. They echoed around the room and her gag reflex kicked in from how hard she was crying. But all she could see was Natasha’s emotionless face staring back at her, not a hint of remorse visible in her eyes.

Reaching to flick off the light, Y/n caught sight of something that made her cry harder. Her bedside table hadn’t been empty for two and a half years. A single picture frame now sat there. And it was in that moment that Y/n wished it had just stayed empty.

#natasha romanoff #fanfic #marvel #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x female reader

415 notes · View notes

neowinestainedress · 1 year ago

Text

‘CAUSE IT’S YOU | L.DH

TITLE: ‘cause it’s you PAIRING: lee haechan x fem!reader GENRE: hits different bonus, slice of life, fluff, smut, established relationship, relationship development, christmas, meeting the parents SUMMARY: it’s been 3 years since you met, two since you started dating, but haechan still hits different. or; you and haechan spend your first real christmas together WARNINGS: smut, unprotected s*x (mc is on the pill), vibrat*r, getting caught, exhibitionism, edging, f!nger!ng, overstimulation, squ!rt!ng, dirty talk, praises, female joi, masturbati*n (f&m), voyeurism, n!pple play, the usual switchy dynamics, cheesy-romantic-love making, lots of kisses, l-bombs, aftercare, mentions of minor character death (before i get called a dumb bitch in the asks for not putting this), dealing with a loss and trauma, bi!haechanxbi!reader WC: 22.563k A/N: our favorite emotional support boyfriend is back! This was supposed to be a gift for the 4k followers this summer, but I didn’t finish writing it and I decided to give you tooth-rotting Christmas fluff and smut instead of another summer (on the coaAaAast). I’m excited and scared for this because when I was writing HD I wanted to show more after they got together (but it was too long), and then the story was such a hit (and felt complete anyway) that I wasn’t sure I wanted to write another part (or it was needed). I’m happy I didn’t finish it this summer because when I sat down for that, I feared I was right; it felt plotless, and I felt I was adding nothing to the story. Until I thought of this. I’m proud of how this came out because I feel this still has a valid plot and showcases the changes in their dynamics well. But since this is not supposed to top the original (it can’t) and I see it more as a bonus that’s optional to read, please take this as my 5k followers and Christmas gift for you! If you hated the mc in HD, this one is for you! I hope you can enjoy this, please let me know with reblogs (they help reach more people), comments and asks what you think about it! happy holidays ♡

“Where the hell are my panties?” You mutter under your breath as you look through the messy blankets with no success.

“Babe, please,” Haechan mumbles, trying to push the sheets on his body and don’t freeze with each one of your tugs.

“You know, you’re the reason I can never find my clothes, but you still never help me,” you groan, stopping to stare at him with your arms crossed.

He raises a brow, and then his usual smirk curls his lips. “Three years and I still fuck you that good, you should be grateful.”

You groan loudly before grabbing your pillow and hitting his face, eliciting a loud grunt. “You’re so annoying!”

“Damn, laugh a bit,” he jokes, wrapping his hands around your body and pulling you flat on top of him. You’re face to face, his sleepy golden-brown eyes staring into yours and his lips pouting to leave wet kisses on your face.

“Hyuck,” you complain, trying to pull away, but he flips you over, trapping you against the mattress, and going on with his sweet torture.

“What? You’re not in a rush anymore,” he whispers as his kisses get less messy and move down on your body. “Can’t be lazy with me some more?” He lifts his hand up and you see he’s holding your panties.

You gasp offended and he bursts out laughing. “You traitor! I went insane for five minutes trying to look for them!”

“It’s funny seeing you do that every time.”

You pout. “I hate you.”

But Haechan smiles and leans in to leave a peck on your lips. “I love you, too.”

“Give me them!” You scream, grabbing his hand and stealing your panties. “I wanted to make you breakfast, but no, you had to waste my time.” You push him off of you, and he just rolls to the side without complaining, still smiling as he follows you with his gaze. “Now you’ll have to wait.”

He chuckles, moving to get comfy in the warmth of the bed. “Fine by me, I’ll wait.”

You can’t hide the smile on your face, but you try to don’t show it by looking down, letting your hair cover your face, and pretending to be busy with your clothes.

Haechan gets you now. He knows why you were always in a rush and that you don’t need to be anymore. He knows that now, behind your rush, there’s not the need to be as far away from him as possible but to prepare your favorite breakfast and slump in bed together to eat it. It’s just a habit you two picked. He learned you need habits; small things that keep you grounded, small moments you can always count on, and he doesn’t mind it. Actually, he likes it too, you are the calmness he needs in his rough sea.

“Want me to help?” He asks once you’re done, ready to go in the kitchen.

“No, I want to surprise you today. Stay here, I’ll be back soon,” you reply, smiling and sending him a kiss that he grabs swiftly before bringing it to his lips, making you chuckle.

I’ll be back soon.

It sounds wild in his ears if he thinks that just two years ago, every time you walked out of that door, he feared you weren’t going to come back. It’s even more insane when he stops and thinks you two are making it work. Looking back at your failed relationships, it’s safe to say that you both don’t strike as types to make a story last.

Yet, here you are. On the bed, eating breakfast while you discuss your plans for the day. And then you’re in the bathroom, brushing your teeth side by side, playfully fighting to have access first in front of the small sink, and then you’re in the shower, no funny business, just a quick wash before going out. Lastly, in your bedroom, you’re getting dressed to go out, picking each other’s fits, and finishing the last touches.

Everything in your house. The one you two now share.

Moving in felt like a sudden move, and when the moment came, Haechan had been the one who tried to stick to his old habits, too afraid that such a big change was going to scare you away. But Mark and Minjeong got more serious, and Haechan was always at your place anyway (to avoid suffocating so Mark wouldn’t hear every time you fucked). Also, as much as you loved the company of the couple, you two needed time alone, so he moved in five months ago.

But all his worries got flushed away pretty soon. You needed stability and your habits, the small things that made you feel grounded. And since you had come to terms with his feelings for him, moving in only solidified your relationship because you could have all that. There was nothing left of the insecurity of your friends with benefits phase, there was something that was planting its roots to grow strong.

Your place is still a temporary solution before looking for something nicer (not bigger, for now, the only family expansion plans are plants, a cat, and a dog).

But it’s yours. The same house you built so hard, the one you kept secret like an oath, the one he couldn’t even step foot inside, is now his too. There’s his guitar in a corner of the living room, his computer next to yours, and the game console under the TV. His clothes beside yours in the closet, his shoes in the hall right next to yours, and his jacket at the entrance. The lamps you bought together, the plants you picked together, and even a big photo of you two framed above the television; Johnny took it without you noticing, and it quickly became your favorite, so it’s there, to let everyone know who lives there.

And most importantly, there’s Haechan. There’s his laugh, filling your nights and days that used to be empty. There are his failed attempts at cooking. The books he tries to read every night, with no success, while you read yours. Just for him to end up with his head on your lap as your fingers run through his hair and you read yours out loud. There’s him hyping you up as you run on your treadmill, dancing and singing around you because that’s training too. Finally, there’s a beating heart to listen to as you fall asleep between two arms that hold you.

“I can’t believe you don’t have Christmas decorations.” This is the tenth time Haechan makes that comment as you walk around the store with the cart almost full of Christmas stuff, and you can only roll your eyes at it. “I’m sorry, babe, but… why?”

“I had nothing to celebrate,” you reply, stopping to look at the garlands, inspecting which one is better.

“Not even last year?”

“We were at your place, and usually Johnny drags me with his family, he knows I will fall into a vertigo of depression if I’m not distracted during this time,” you reply. It’s not painful to talk about it, but Haechan can hear the subtle shift in your voice and the way your eyes avoid his. He learned how to study your smallest reaction, it was the only way he could get deep into you, even after you started being serious, it wasn’t so easy for you to open up.

“If you don’t want to, we can don’t celebrate,” he says, trying to meet your eyes, and when he does, they’re wide open.

“Why? I’ve got you now,” you say, lifting in front of his face the two garlands you picked, putting the right one in the cart once he points at it. “Fuck my family, I’m not alone anymore. And I don’t want to be sad, I want to celebrate, and make my little traditions, have our Christmas.”

A small chuckle leaves his lips at your words, but then he gets serious again. “Are you sure? I always fear you push your limits for me, and I don’t want you to break —”

You stop him with a wave of hand. “Hyuck,” you say, smiling at him. “I’m fine. I’m better than I’ve ever been. I want this to be special. I’m not making your family come over to an empty house for the holidays.”

His eyes widen. “Wait, you’re sure about that too? My mom tends to get carried away and she just —”

“Oh, oh, Lee Donghyuck, are you perhaps the scared one?” You ask with a teasing smirk on your face and burst into a laugh when he blushes and turns his head low. “Oh my God, you are scared of this. You’re shitting yourself, just like when I proposed to move in with me.” You nudge him, but he slaps your arm away playfully, and then you start walking again. “Confess, you liked me better when I was the one that ran away.”

“God no, any version of you, but never the one that slips from my fingers with no warning. It was traumatic,” he confesses, there’s a smile on his face, but in his eyes, you see that thinking about it still hurts him a bit, and you’re so deeply sorry.

“Promise, never again,” you say, kissing his cheek. “So, tell me, what’s so scary about your family?”

He sighs, rubbing his temples before you both look on the shelves to pick the decorations to put on the garlands. “They’re loud and loud… and loud.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “I like that. What do they do? Talk a lot? Sing a lot?”

“Sing a lot? You don’t want to know what we used to do. One year my sister even had a wardrobe of costumes to perform in front of us, I feared Mariah Carey was going to lose her yearly check.”

You laugh at the image. And then caress his face. “Me, my brother, and Johnny used to do that too. Not with the costumes, I confess we weren’t at those levels, but nobody, I swear nobody, not even the pissy neighbor, could take away our performance. It was unfair because they would always make me play the elf, I was too short between those two giants,” you scoff, rolling your eyes before your laugh gets loud again when you remember something. “One year my brother almost got grounded because he had painted my face green using our mom’s make-up, it was so funny. She was so mad, but he couldn’t stop laughing because of me and Johnny.”

Haechan laughs too, looking at you with softness in his eyes. You’re happy. You’re talking about your brother with a smile on your face, there’s no sign of a small twitch of your lips or the nervous playing with your fingers, just a genuine smile on your face. And you talk about him a lot, all the stupid things you used to do together, all the times he had your back, or when a song, movie, or book reminds you of him. A few months ago, you even showed him a photo book you kept stored under your bed and you talked for hours, some tears fell on your cheeks, but they were different from all the ones before. And Haechan is so happy to see you like this, to feel like your brother is still here with you, now that you don’t act like his death never happened, or his entire existence never happened.

“The three of you were a menace. How did your families survive?”

“I don’t know,” you giggle, looking at him, and smiling fondly. “I mean, without us, their lives would’ve been so boring. We always put a smile on their faces,” you say, and then sadness flashes in your eyes for a bit, but you wipe it away quickly. “You know, I wish that didn’t break my family apart. I wish my parents would’ve, I’m not saying I wanted them to fear losing me too, but at least cared about me more. Put the pride aside and welcome me back in, instead of pushing out their only child. I wish I could have them with me, laughing about the past… I mean, it’s not easy, and you know that I wasn’t like this until a year ago, but… don’t they feel like they’re grieving me too? I think I could still make them smile, I have so many stories about my brother that I haven’t told them yet. He could still live through us.”

“I think they need more time,” Haechan says, reaching your hand that’s standing on the bar of the cart, rubbing your palm with his thumb like he always does when you need support. “But they will search for you again, more than the five texts you share in a year.”

When he tells you that, you’re reminded of something you forgot to tell him a few days ago. “My mom sent me a recipe the other day, I thought she wanted to send it to one of her friends, but she wanted to send it to me.”

“See? It’s a step forward unless she was foreshadowing that she’s going to kill you and cook you in the oven,” he jokes, making you laugh as you playfully push him away.

“You’re always so stupid. Help me pick the last things, come on,” you say, changing the subject.

Yes, you can talk about this more freely, but you still need to chew on it, taking small bites, or else you’ll choke.

You walk out of the kitchen with two hot mugs in your hands, just to find Haechan blankly staring at all the boxes on the floor with a confused expression, and you roll your eyes. “What now?”

He lifts his head, walking toward you to grab his mug and leave a peck on your lips as a ‘thank you’ before he replies. “Don’t you think we went just a bit overboard? It’s too much.”

“It’s not. And look, the tree is already up because you’re the best man ever and you were so quick at putting it together,” you say, batting your lashes, making him glare at you. “What? Can’t even praise you right, now?”

“If you want my soul, I’m sad to inform you, you already have it,” Haechan says, pulling you in a hug before he kisses you again, this time it’s longer and more passionate. You chuckle when you pull away.

“It looks like it’s a lot, but it’s not,” you try to reason. “Most of these are decorations that we need to put on the tree or on the garlands that you proposed we would make, together, as a lovely, madly in love couple.”

“It wasn’t that cheesy when I proposed it,” he replies, grunting and scratching the back of his head.

“Come on, I made you hot chocolate, and the biscuits are getting ready in the oven, we’ll put on some music, and we’ll have some fun,” you say, placing the cup on the coffee table to turn on the TV. “Are you sure you’re not having double thoughts about us?” You ask, stopping midway and looking as his eyes widen.

“What? Why?” His voice comes out as a high-pitched squeal as he feels panic run through his body.

“I don’t know, I thought Christmas was your favorite holiday and I wanted it to be special. But I feel like you’re not as excited as you are for other things and maybe you feel like we’re running or something…” you sigh. “Are you afraid I will disappoint your family? Maybe I’m not enough — I…”

“No, God, no,” he replies, shaking his head. “It’s just a lot, and I was wondering if we could get it all done this weekend, but it has nothing to do with us,” he says, walking to you, cupping your face in his hands.

“Hey, I love you, and I love this. Every little thing we’ve built and we’re building together. I admit I’m afraid for my family. Not a single ex-boyfriend or ex-girlfriend of mine ever met my parents so, yeah, this is a pretty big and scary step, but it’s with you. And truth be told, I’m not afraid because I don’t think this is serious, or because I think they won’t like you, confession time, my mom loves you already,” he says with a smile on his face. “I’m more scared you won’t like them, and well, that they will scare you away. I know you made some big steps forward, but… you still have your fears, and we both know sometimes they take over and sometimes you fall back into old habits. And it’s fine with me, I know how to deal with them and take care of you, but in this case, it’s not in my power, I can’t control them, and what if they say something wrong? What if they ask the wrong questions? I —”

You shut him with a kiss, pulling him close by the long hair covering his neck. “You sound just like me,” you joke, pulling away. “I know you don’t have control over them, I don’t need you to have it. I hope they can become my family too, and I’m ready to let them in, step by step. I’m so happy you worry so much about me, but I have it under control,” you laugh lightheartedly. “I don’t snap anymore when my brother is brought up, I don’t lie anymore, and I don’t run away. You taught me to always face my fears, right? And that’s what I’m doing. Maybe not all at once. Surely, I will need you to back me up at some point of the night, but I’ve got it, and I’ve got you, and… I’m ready.”

The look in his eyes feels like home and so does the warm smile on his face. “I love you so much. I’m so proud of you, I can’t even explain it in words,” he says, kissing you again.

“I know you are,” you reply, caressing his face. “I mean, the fact you’ve been keeping up with me for three years says it all.”

“Two,” he replies.

“Nah–ah, you’ve been keeping up with my mood swings and fucked up coping mechanisms since you fucked me in your car, or maybe even since we talked that night. I mean, that was my first lie to you, so…”

He chuckles, nodding in agreement. “Mhh, maybe I should take you out tonight and make a stop there, our parking spot. Wouldn’t it be romantic?”

“Mhh, yes, and then we can even smoke weed,” you add, laughing with him. “But I doubt we’ll be free from the Christmas tasks, so maybe next time?”

“Yes, Miss. If my agenda is not booked, I’ll find a spot to slip you in,” he jokes before leaving a peck on your forehead and stepping back, going back to the boxes on the floor.

You can’t control the smile on your face as you stare at him. This is your first holiday together and even if it has been a hell of a month for you in these past few years, you feel your heart explode with happiness right now. After everything he has done for you, you feel like you can finally pay him back, and do something that makes him happy. Haechan always told you how much he loves Christmas. Since he was a child, he felt that, after a year of sacrifices, his family could be together with fewer worries. It didn’t matter if there weren’t many gifts under the tree or no gifts at all, he was happy because his parents didn’t have to work, and they could pretend life wasn’t so hard for at least a few days. He also told you he loved how the cities would light up, and everything seemed better.

“Will you help with the lights, or do I have to do it by myself?”

You shake your head out of your thoughts and look up at him, shrugging. “No intention of doing so.”

“Oh, come on, I will end up tangled in this mess,” he whines, pouting and looking at you with those big eyes you can’t resist.

“Fine, but just because I really like you,” you say, walking to him, grabbing the other end of the lights.

“Only like me?” He pouts as you both start walking around the tree, parting the branches to fit the lights in between them.

“Mhh, sometimes I feel like I can barely stand you, so yeah, maybe liking you is too much, sorry about that,” you joke, making him scoff.

Setting up the place with decorations was the plan, but with Haechan you learned nothing goes as planned. You’ve gotten used to it, it doesn’t trigger you anymore, not that much, especially when you find yourself in this situation. Laying on the floor with him on top of you, kissing along your jaw as his hand creeps under your sweatpants to reach your panties. That’s another thing you’ve gotten used to, the way, after years, you two still can’t keep your hands off each other. It’s surely different from what it was before, there’s no more fear, anger, and destructive passion when you two have sex, but the chemistry is still the same, just healthier.

“Hyuck,” you moan when his finger teases your clit and slit, forcing your head to roll back on the cold hard ground. You could’ve easily moved this to the couch, but it was just easier to be there where you two ended up, the red decorations resting to the side, waiting to be finished. In your defence, you are almost halfway done; the tree is almost done, the small Santa clauses, reindeer, and trees are placed here and there on the shelves, and the strings of lights are running from corner to corner of the living room.

“You’re so wet,” Haechan teases, trails of wet kisses painting your face before reaching your pouting lips, “I wonder why,” he jokes, his typical smirk sitting on his face as he looks at your face.

Another thing you learned by dating Haechan, is that you will never get bored. He’s always thinking about something, coming up with ideas, planning things. He’s not much different from you after all, he simply doesn’t look over a plan more than twice (sometimes he doesn’t even get to the second time). This time it’s not any different. He was looking at you like a puppy that can’t wait to bite a bone, jumping on his seat on the floor as you two decorated with Christmas music filling the background. You know his eyes; when he looks at you without saying a word and just waits for you to catch up as if you can read his mind. You don’t get why he does it since he’s so impatient and surely not shy, but he finds it entertaining for some reason and you play along.

“What?” You had asked, struggling to hide the amused grin on your face when his lips curved in a smile.

“Want to try something new?”

Those five words, followed by a bet to see how long you would last with a small bullet vibrator inside of you before begging for him to give you more, are the reason you’re so wet. You thought it would be funny and he would go gentle on you, but you were so wrong. And it took you less than fifteen minutes to beg for him to make it stop.

“Don’t be so mad, I’m giving you what you want,” he pouts, kissing your puckered lips over and over.

“You’re not. You’re teasing, like always,” you groan.

“Am I?” he grins, pushing your hair back as he stares into your deadly glare. “Fine,” he groans, rolling his eyes back before bringing them back to you. “What do you want?”

Another loud grunt slips past your lips, but you quickly force words to come out. “Your fingers, please,” the last word is filled with sarcasm, and he gives you a stern glare at which you only shrug.

“You’re such a brat,” Haechan mocks, quickly flicking his fingers on your clit, watching with amusement as your eyes roll back and your teeth trap your lips to stop the loud moan to come out. “Is this enough?”

“No,” you whine. “Take the toy out and fuck me,” you order, but you only get a mocking laugh in reply.

“So bossy today. I let you decide so much already, I think you can leave this to me, uhm,” he teases as his fingers keep moving on your clit without giving you more.

You sigh defeated and relax, your shoulders drop back as you decide to just enjoy the sensation of his stimulation, the filling of the toy, and the light vibrations.

Just as he’s about to give you what you’ve been asking for, the loud sound of the doorbell stops you two in your tracks.

“Did you order something?” Haechan asks, hand still buried in your pants but still.

You shake your head, shrugging, thinking it’s nothing and ready to beg him to keep going, but the bell rings again and you huff loudly.

“The neighbor?” Haechan tries to guess again.

“She’s out, she told me a few days ago, it can’t — oh, goddamn,” you huff when it rings again.

But your doubts are soon answered when the front door swings open and your heart jumps in your throat.

“Is it possible that you two never hear the bell ring?”

“Johnny!” You scream, pushing Haechan’s hand away and him off your body roughly, trying to fix yourself the best you can and get on your feet.

“Oh, sorry,” your best friend looks at your dishevelled look with a grin on his face. “Interrupted something?”

You groan and simply throw a pillow at him in response, but it does him no harm as he quickly catches it even if he only has one hand free.

“No, we were decorating.” Haechan tries to save the situation, but you know it’s useless as you roll your head back and sigh again. Johnny’s not dumb, unfortunately.

“Oh, is it a new slang? I didn’t know we call it like that nowadays, interesting,” he teases, walking toward the couch. “I always learn new things from you two.” He kisses your forehead, and you don’t even push him away, but rub your eyes when he passes over you to greet your boyfriend.

“You can’t just burst in with no warning,” you sigh, turning around, watching as he studies the mess in the living room as if it’s his place.

“I rang three times, not my fault your boyfie didn’t think of pulling his hand out of your pants,” he shrugs before lifting his head and smiling at you.

“I’ll change the code, I swear,” you threaten, rubbing your temples.

“And I will still know it in case of an emergency. Just because you got yourself the love of your life it doesn’t mean you downgrade me, hey!”

Another loud annoyed sound comes out of your mouth, and you swiftly catch Haechan going red in the face after Johnny’s words, but you shake it off. “You wait for us to answer.”

“You could’ve said ‘I’m coming’ or ‘wait a second’, you know? That’s what normal people do,” he reminds you, placing the bags he’s carrying on the floor to take off his coat, and placing it on the couch.

“She swears it’s people that want to sell you something, so she looks out of the peephole and then pretends she’s not home,” Haechan explains.

“Bullshits, she wanted to leave her best friend to freeze to death in the corridor,” he dramatizes, lifting a hand on his forehead and faking passing out on the couch.

“You’re so dramatic,” you groan. “What do you even want?”

“It’s been two weeks since we’ve seen each other, and this is how you greet me?” He gasps offended.

“Don’t laugh,” you say to Haechan, who immediately stops laughing and apologizes with a shrug. “I’m sorry. How can we help, my dearest friend?”

“Fake,” Johnny gags. “But I brought you two something,” he says, patting the space on the couch for you to sit and then lifting two bags.

“Christmas is two weeks away,” you say. You already have your gifts, of course you do, but you still need to wrap them up like you want to. So, you hope these are not your presents because you wouldn’t be ready to give him yours.

“I know, it’s not a Christmas gift, it’s just a gift.”

Haechan raises a brow. “For us?”

“Yes,” he replies. “The first one is from my mom, it’s a cake.”

“You should’ve said that right away,” you say, grabbing the box from his hands. “It’s so pretty, and it’s going to taste so good. Thank her!”

“About that, you can do that if you come to my place tonight. I told her you won’t be with us this Christmas, she had a mental breakdown, so please, can you two don’t fuck tonight and come to my place?”

“We’re not perverts, you know,” Haechan scoffs.

“Not sure about that,” Johnny mumbles, and your boyfriend slaps his arm. “What? You two were never able to keep your hands off each other.”

“Look at him, rewriting history. You didn’t notice we were fucking until she told you!”

“Tell him, Hyuck,” you back him up from the kitchen where you’re placing the cake so it can be safe from the mess of the other room.

“Fine, but I still know you two couldn’t keep your hands off each other. Anyway, can we focus? The sooner I’ll leave, the faster you’ll go back to what you were doing.”

“Yeah, that’s — oh,” you stop, eyes widening when you hear the vibrations pick up again. “We’ll come.”

“I’m sure we will,” Haechan mutters under his breath and you glare at him, silently telling him to don’t even think about it, but he only smiles smugly and shrugs.

You clear your throat, trying to walk back to the couch as if nothing is going on, and urge Johnny to finish this soon.

“And this is a bag full of things my mom wanted you to have,” he says, handing you the other. “I don’t think it’s necessary anymore, you two got yourself a lot of things, but yeah…”

You grab it with shaky hands and look inside.

“Will she cry?” Haechan asks, and at the same time, you feel the vibration stop, which makes you chuckle under your breath with your head low. It’s sweet that he thinks adding fighting an orgasm to a breakdown is not a good idea.

Johnny thinks about it, leaning to the side to look at you, and then hums. “Probably.”

“I’ll take a look at this after, so I can break down crying with him alone,” you say, getting up, and stretching your arms out to hug Johnny. It’s your nice way to tell him you’re grateful, but also, he needs to leave. And it would work smoothly if only Haechan didn’t have other plans.

“We baked cookies, why don’t you stay for a while? What about a cup of coffee too?”

You glare at Haechan again when the vibrations start high, leaving you breathless, but quickly force yourself to smile at your friend.

“Yes, I love cookies and coffee!” Johnny cheers, wrapping an arm around Haechan as he guides him to the kitchen.

“Of course you do…” you whisper under your breath, rubbing your temples and following them in the kitchen.

You sit on a chair, hoping to bring yourself as little attention as possible, and that if you keep your thighs pressed enough you won’t come in your pants in front of your best friend. But Haechan is not exactly helping you, shifting the speed and waves so that you can’t ever get used to the sensation.

“The cookies are amazing,” Johnny moans after a bite and you try to give him a gentle smile.

“Thanks,” you dare to speak out, surprising yourself when you do with no sign of desperation.

“The place is coming together nicely, by the way,” he comments, walking to sit in front of you.

“We didn’t put up a lot, just the smallest things on the furniture,” Haechan comments, “and the tree, but well, we didn’t put on the balls so it’s empty.”

“Shit,” you cry out when he rises the speed, but you quickly play it cool by holding the back of your leg, “a cramp.”

Johnny’s eyebrows are raised in suspicion, not by your poor acting, but because Haechan isn’t on his knees in front of you in two seconds to make sure you’re alright, but he shrugs it away when your boyfriend asks if you need help.

“I’m fine,” you mutter, stretching your leg to keep playing the part and massaging the ‘sore’ muscle.

“So, what time should we be there tonight?” Haechan asks, and you hear he’s trying hard not to laugh.

“Seven, so my mom can annoy you with questions before dinner and then we can start and eat in peace,” Johnny says, thanking Haechan when he brings the coffee cup to the table.

“Your mom’s nice,” Haechan says, “and she’s an amazing cook. She will cook tonight, right?”

“Hey! I’m good too. But yes, she insisted, so the kitchen is all hers,” Johnny huffs, “even if I will hear her complain because my things are not where she would keep them.”

You try to laugh but quickly turn it into a silent giggle when you feel you can’t hold the sounds in easily anymore. Haechan’s hand is not in the pocket of his pants, busy preparing the last two cups of coffee, but the vibrations are stuck at the highest speed, and you’re squirming on the chair, nervously twitching your legs.

“I saw Mark and Minjeong yesterday,” Johnny changes the subject as he suddenly remembers. “We should organize something all together before the holidays. It’s been what? One month now, since we’ve all been out together?”

“We actually hung out with them last week,” Haechan says. “They finished remaking our old place and wanted us over.”

“Y’all are cutting me out of your lives, I don’t like this,” Johnny complains.

You roll your eyes. “We’re not,” you spit out, as fast as you can, so no shakiness slips from your lips. And then mutter a “Thanks,” to Haechan when he hands you the cup and then sits next to you.

“It’s just because it was my place before, they wanted me to see the changes,” Haechan explains. “But I think they’re planning something with all of us soon. They’re just… busy.”

Johnny quirks a brow. “Busy like you two bunnies or busy, busy?”

“Shut up!” You scream, glaring at him. But can you blame him? Right now, you two are proving his point. He just doesn’t know it.

“I’m kidding,” Johnny says, lifting his hands in the air before grabbing another cookie. “I know they are, Minjeong just changed her job, and Mark is Mark. But we should find a free weekend or something, we could even go to my beach house for New Year’s.”

“Yeah, why not,” you force out, one hand slipping under the table to squeeze Haechan’s thighs, telling him to lower the speed, but it’s useless, he acts as if you’re not even there.

“Can I change roommate this time? This one right here is a bit too clingy,” Haechan jokes, pointing at you with his head, making Johnny laugh.

You force out a small laugh, rubbing your sweaty palm against your neck to fill your silence with something.

“Man, I really need to find somebody,” Johnny sighs heavily, letting his head fall against the table theatrically. “You sweet couples make me feel so lonely.”

“Weren’t you going out with,” you stop, pretending to think of her name but, in reality, you’re trying to collect yourself and don’t focus on the pulsing of your pussy. “Hana?”

Johnny lifts his head and pouts. “We fucked.” He rolls his eyes. “I mean, it’s great, don’t get me wrong. But I’m too old for that, I want to settle down.” His hand points at your living room. “That shit out there? The cheesy lovemaking while setting up the place for Christmas? The way y’all live together? I can’t believe your cold-ass heart got it before me. I was Mr. Romantic, and look at me.”

You chuckle tenderly, caressing his hand, trying not to make it shake. “And… will it just be sex?”

“It’s not even exclusive. But it doesn’t matter ‘cause I broke it off,” he pouts.

“You’ll find someone,” Haechan chimes in. “You are husband material, it’s impossible you’ll stay single much longer.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he scoffs before his gaze falls on the clock. “Shit, I’m late, I have to go,” he says, jumping off the chair and walking to the living room. Haechan is quicker than you at following outside, but you feel like your knees could give up in two seconds, and you keep your hands tight in a fist, leaning against the door, watching him get dressed. “Thanks for the biscuits and the coffee, I had fun. See you tonight.”

“Bye! See you later,” you two greet, waving with your hands after he quickly hugs and kisses you both.

When Johnny is out of the door, you jump on Haechan, and he laughs. “You’re a monster. This is not funny!”

“A monster? You had fun, brat,” he teases, kissing you as he lifts you, walking into the living room, this time laying you on the couch. “And I won’t tease you anymore, I’ll give you what you want. But then we really have to wrap something up here and then get ready for dinner.”

This time he’s true to his word, quickly pulling your pants and panties down before leaning down between your legs, leaving pecks on your thighs before he kisses your clit, making your hips jolt.

A shaky sigh comes out of your lips when he pulls the toy out of you, leaving you empty before his fingers take its place without teasing. Your head rolls behind, this time meeting the softness of the couch, and your hands reach his arms, wrapping around them to hold onto something.

“You’re even wetter now,” he teases, looking down between your legs. Your cum dripping down, making a mess on your ass and his fingers. “You’re such a tease, you know? You can’t even deny how much having people watching or listening turns you on.”

You groan, hiding your face against the couch because all the teasing before already made it impossible for you to properly talk back.

“Look at me,” Haechan orders, but you shake your head. He scoffs, cupping your chin to turn your face around. “You’re such a brat today.”

You scoff, “me?”

“Yes, you,” he whispers close to your face, lips brushing against yours as a tease but leaving you without the kiss you crave so much. “Think I didn’t see you before? Sitting on your heels, desperately trying to get off without me noticing,” he mocks with a chuckle. “I have to say, you were smart, talking to me and distracting me, thinking I’m stupid. But I saw that, angel.”

Your body burns up in shame, and you once again try to hide, but his hold is firm, and you soon give up.

“Is this what you want? Are my fingers fucking you well?” He murmurs, biting your earlobe, making you moan louder.

“Ye-yes,” you cry out, planting your feet against the couch to have a solid hold as you grind your hips against him.

“Look at you,” he mocks, pulling back from your face, letting go of it to wrap a hand around your waist and push it down, eliciting another whiny complaint from you. “I guess they’re not enough if you’re grinding on them like that.”

You shake your head. “They are, I swear,” your voice breaks when his thumb presses against your clit, and your thighs fly shut.

“Oh no, baby,” he scolds, forcibly pushing your legs apart with his hand. “Keep those pretty legs open for me, you’re not going anywhere.”

“Please,” you cry out. “You edged me all afternoon.”

He laughs, throwing his head back. “All afternoon? Damn, sex really gets to your brain. If it’s been an hour, it’s a lot.”

You frown, trying to glare at him, but the furrow on your face only makes him smile.

“Fine, fine. It looks like you really want to come, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you reply weakly, but he doesn’t do anything.

“Just a bit more. You’re just so pretty like this. And your pussy squeezes so nicely around my fingers, these beautiful sounds,” he hums, pressing against your sweet spot, forcing more cum out of you in dirty squelches. And the lust in his voice just pushes you even closer to the edge.

“Haechan,” you cry out, eyes closing as your chest heavies more.

“Use your words, babe. You can do it.”

And you would do it easily if only his fingers didn’t pick up a faster rhythm, leaving you gasping for air as your eyes stare into his, the fake innocence and smugness behind them driving you insane.

“Hyuck, please, fuck, please let me come.”

“Mhh, you sound so pretty,” he coos happily. “Come on, I teased you enough. Come for me.”

And you do, finally letting go of all the pleasure you’ve been holding in for so long; it doesn’t matter if it’s the entire afternoon or just an hour. Your body trembles against his, your thighs would clench if only it wasn’t for his hand keeping you spread open, and your head rolls back as loud moans slip out.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Haechan moans, slowing down the pace of his fingers inside of you once he makes sure you’re done and then slowly takes them out.

“Kiss me!” You order, pulling him closer.

“You’re so bossy today,” he laughs when he moves away from the kiss, and you pout.

“I need you.”

“Yeah, I know.” He kisses you again. “Let me get out of my clothes, alright?” You hum, watching him get up to get out of his pants and underwear before trapping your body again. His lips meet yours, and your fingers run in his long hair, pulling hard enough to make him moan and rut his hips against you, but not enough to hurt him.

“Shit, turn around,” he orders, moving back enough to give you space to move as he helps you get in the position he wants.

When your face presses against the couch and your hips swing side by side, you hear him inhale deeply and mumble a curse under his breath.

“You’re so beautiful,” Haechan comments, hands cupping your ass before he leans in, kissing your neck.

“Please, fuck me,” you beg, ordering in a whiny voice.

“So fucking desperate,” he mocks, slapping your ass before placing a hand at the side of your face to keep his body up. The other grabs the base of his dick, the leaking tip pushing against your awaiting slit.

You moan shamelessly, driving your hips back, thinking he’s finally going to sink in, but he doesn’t. He rubs the head on your clit, making you shiver, tremble and whine.

“Please, don’t,” you cry, but he only laughs mockingly at you.

“Look at you,” Haechan taunts. “How long has it been? One week?”

“Two,” you mutter angrily. “Two weeks.” It’s not about the sex, per se, but you two have been so busy with work lately that you’ve barely had time to be together. Last week, he did go down on you, but it was quick since he had a phone call, and you didn’t even get the after-cuddles you love so much.

He snickers, throwing his head back as he keeps teasing, this time pushing the tip in and out, watching your hole stretch and then clench around nothing. “Sorry, sorry. You don’t want my mouth or fingers, you want my dick. Still,” he lowers, hot breath hitting your ear, “don’t you think it’s a bit pathetic after two weeks to be so desperate for me?”

You shake your head, biting your lips, moving your hips to grind against him and force him inside you somehow, but all with no success.

“Can you humiliate yourself even more, love?” He jokes.

“Hyuck,” you whine, searching for his hand. “Yes, I’m pathetic for you, are you happy now? Can you please fuck me? Or do I have to — fuck!” Your complaint gets shut down when he pushes into you, you’re so wet and relaxed he does it with no struggle, filling you deeply and leaving you breathless.

“Happy now?”

You nod quickly, smiling widely but letting out no words.

“Good, so something does satisfy you,” he groans, head falling back as he holds onto your hips.

You whine, wanting to scream that anything he does satisfies you and that you’re not that greedy, but you let it slip.

And then it comes, his face hides in the crook of your neck and one of his arms sneaks around you, keeping you close. And you love this, it drives you crazy to know you can have the roughest sex and most mind-blowing orgasms of your life while still being loved and cherished so much. You love it so much that you don’t push him away anymore, but let him sink deeper. All over you. Deep into you.

“Hyuck,” you call out his name, hand moving behind to search for his skin, and finding an arm.

“I know, babe, I know.” His lips leave kisses over your jawline, biting softly every now and then, and his eyes roll back when you clench around him. “Am I fucking you good?” He hums, moving your hair away so he can see your face. “Deep and nice, just like you love it?”

You nod in quick motions. Body squirming under his before it stills when you feel the toy press against your clit again and buzz against you. You let out a high-pitched cry, face pressing against the couch as your fingers fist the soft fabric.

“Hush, babe,” Haechan whispers against your ear. “We both know you love this.”

“Yes, but —” the words die in your throat.

“But, what?” He teases. “What’s wrong, honey?” He coos in a patronizing tone, and you groan.

He knows how easily you come when you use any type of vibrator. He has seen you come undone with them so many times you’ve lost the count. And he knows it’s even worse when he’s deep inside of you, hitting all your right spots while the vibrating toy keeps stimulating your sensitive clit.

“You — you know what,” you whine, trying to look back to pity him.

His movements stop completely, and the warmth of his body leaves you except the hand on your waist. “Mh, no, I don’t think I do.”

You whine louder, hips jerking up to urge him to pick up his thrusts again, and he does, snapping in and out of you like before.

“So, you won’t help me? I’ll have to find out the problem on my own?” He teases. “But… you want this faster?”

“No!” You yelp when he puts the toy at the highest setting, making you try to close your legs but with no success. “Hyuck, please,” your voice breaks, tears menacing to run down your face as you feel another orgasm build up in your stomach, fist closing incredibly tight around the pillow of the couch.

“Oh… my bad. Does it make you come too easily?” Haechan says, faking a tone of surprise as he leans closer to you, finally giving you the warmth of his body again. It’s funny how you avoided contact before, and how much you need it now.

You nod swiftly, biting your lips to muffle the messy moans.

“And my baby doesn’t want that?” He pouts, caressing your hair out of your forehead. “You were so mad I edged you for so long and now you don’t — fuck — want to come over and over again?”

You don’t answer, not with coherent words at least, and groan again.

“You can take it, I know you can,” he groans, inhaling deeply as he lifts his body and throws his head back. He teases you a lot but he’s just as sensitive and desperate. Two weeks too long since he had you, and your body is so responsive, clenching and dripping around him, making him go insane too.

“Let’s come together, ugh?” He moans. “Then I’ll fuck my cum deep inside of you and you’ll come just one last time.”

A guttural moan slips from your mouth at his words, the idea of him fucking his cum into you over and over until he’ll fill you up with another load driving you insane.

“Close,” you mutter.

“Yeah, me too,” he groans, “come.”

Your body lets go, orgasm setting free like a trigger, sending shivers down your spine. Your lips are free from the hold of your teeth, not caring if you’re too loud and someone might hear. It feels too good to hold back. Not only for the pleasure itself, but for the way your boyfriend’s hands run on your hot skin, how his moans and whimpers fill your ears, and especially the sensation of his cum filling you up. When his hips still against you, and his whole body presses you down, you’re still shaking from the aftermath.

Your eyes flutter shut when he starts moving again, barely giving you the time to come down from your high.

“You feel so good, I could stay buried in this sweet pussy for days,” Haechan moans, hiding in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply and leaving kisses on your skin.

You moan, letting your body relax to the feeling of him being all over you. One arm wrapped around your waist while his other hand roams around your body, caressing your stomach, your boobs, your thighs, everything he can find.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he comments when he lifts his head, not enough to unstuck his chest from your back but enough to look at your wrecked face. “Most beautiful thing in the world.”

You melt at his comments, feeling warmth in your stomach, this time not given by pleasure but love. You are loved, wholeheartedly, completely, and endlessly. Every part of you, every flaw, every masterpiece. Haechan doesn’t leave anything behind. He loves you. Deeply. Constantly. Inhumanly. Because you still can’t believe it’s possible for someone to love so much, especially when it comes to you. But he proves it to you every single day, from the sweet words to these passionate moments.

“Ki-kiss me,” you mumble, pouting until his lips are on yours. The position is a bit uncomfortable but you two make it work anyway. Kissing each other over again, going from deep kisses to pecks.

“Fuck, pretty,” he groans. “You’re taking me so well. My dick stretching you out, my cum filling you up, so much of it we’re making a mess. You love being my messy princess, don’t you?”

You nod. “Yes — yes, love it.”

“I know, princess, I know. Dripping all the way down my balls, drooling on the couch, staining it with your pretty tears.” Now that you’ve opened up to him and cried more than just once in front of him, he loves these tears even more because they are good tears, caused by him not because he’s hurting you but because he’s making you feel good. And he’s obsessed with it, with the way your eyes look. Long lashes clumped together, looking even thicker and longer.

You’re about to beg him to go faster, but he obeys without you opening your mouth. Hips snapping fast against you, body pushing you even further against the soft couch.

A small giggle escapes your lips when his hand searches and then finds your hand, intertwining your fingers while the other cups your ass cheek before leaving a small slap.

“Shit, ever told you I fucking love your ass?”

You hum, nodding. You’d use some words, but the bliss is too strong to let you do anything other than whimpering and moaning. Your clit is swollen, throbbing hard, extra sensitive with all the vibrations of the toy before, and each slap of Haechan’s balls against it leaves you gasping for air.

Your hips squirm away, there’s not much room to go since your head is already pressed between the seat and the armrest, but you still slip a bit forward and Haechan chuckles darkly close to your ear.

“Running away, sweetheart?” The condescending, saccharin-sweet tone makes more shivers run down your spine, toes curling up and stomach twisting.

Your head moves in incoherent movement, and your hand holds his tighter for support. You feel like your head is spinning, and if it seemed like a good idea to keep the sweater on, now it feels like hell is on your skin.

“You can take it, can’t you?” He asks, voice genuinely sweet this time, but his body is not more clement with you. The harsh sounds of his pounding are still filling the room, drowning out the Christmas music that’s still playing on the TV — thank god the playlist moved to an instrumental one, or some classics would be ruined forever with these filthy moments in your mind.

You nod, but he’s not happy with a non-verbal question. Unless you’re fucked out, completely fucked out, he wants to hear your voice when he asks if you can take more.

“Words. I need words,” Haechan reminds you a bit more sternly, and you whine. “Come on, talk now, ‘cause soon that pretty mouth of yours will be stuffed full.”

With the risk of choking on your own saliva, you let out a barely audible “yes.”

“Good girl, that’s my good girl,” he praises with a long hum, caressing your burning hot cheek before ordering you around again. “Open those pretty lips for me, will you?”

You obey with no hesitation, ready to take anything he gives you. And when two fingers press down your tongue your mouth immediately closes to suck on them, eyes fluttering shut, pussy clenching around him and ass arching up.

“Fuck, knew you would’ve loved this,” he groans.

Over the years, you realized Haechan loves doing this. To you, it’s funny because he rarely lets you go down on him, always whining because he has to eat you out, so 80% of the time, when it’s time for oral, you’re always on the receiving end. You don’t complain, you honestly think it’s a blessing he’s so obsessed with eating you out, but you don’t understand why he’s obsessed with watching you suck his fingers and not as obsessed with watching you suck his cock.

His moans get louder and whinier and you feel your stomach turn upside down and your core get even wetter. You almost bite him when his other hand moves from your hips to your clit, rubbing it, making you arch your ass up at the overstimulation.

Your wet eyes look up at him, begging him for release, but there’s not much to beg since you’re squeezing him, and he’s overstimulated too.

When his fingers leave your mouth, you gasp, taking in all the air, and start slurring his name. “Hyuck, Hyuck, please, wanna — wanna come, please.”

He leans down, kissing you. It’s a messy, wet kiss, with lips and teeth clashing, and your hand desperately reach for his body. “Come with me, princess. You deserve it.”

The orgasm breaks through you, a tingling sensation of pleasure running through your bones making you squirm against his body pressing you down. With one last strong thrust inside of you, you can’t control the jet of liquid squirting out of you.

A string of curses comes out of you, but Haechan is quick at shutting it up with more messy kisses and quick movements to ride the pleasure out. “It’s alright, you’re alright, you’re alright, babe. Shh, calm down, it’s fine. You did great.”

Your body slumps against the fabric and you let the warmth of his skin warm you up as you come down from the high. Haechan never stops whispering sweet words in your ear, kissing and caressing you, as he slowly — and reluctantly — pulls out of you.

“Fuck,” he murmurs when cum starts spilling out of you. “We made a mess.”

You chuckle, shrugging. “We’ll clean it up,” you say. “Later.”

He laughs, but turns you around, after laying against the backrest, pulling you close to him. “Want some well-deserved cuddles?”

“Yes please.”

“Will you see what’s in the bag?” Haechan asks when he comes out of your bedroom, all cleaned up after the shower you quickly took together, and sees you stare down at the brown bag Johnny brought.

You shrug. You don’t know what’s inside, you could barely get a glimpse when you peeked before, but something makes you fear there will be too many memories, and you’re not sure you’re ready for them all.

Your head turns around when you feel the couch bend with Haechan’s weight, and it immediately finds his shoulder to rest. His arm wraps around you, sneaking under your sweater to rub your skin, and you sigh.

“You don’t have to, not right now,” he whispers, kissing the top of your head.

“But I do, I have to see her tonight, and I want to thank her.”

“Okay but if anything triggers you, promise me you’ll stop?”

“Promise,” you reply and then you flip it over on the floor. You can feel Haechan’s persistent gaze on you and you feel some sadness wash over you, but you feel fine for now. And then a smile appears on your face.

“I didn’t know she had our socks,” you say, grabbing the red stockings with reindeer and elves, and studying them. The fabric it’s a bit ruined over time, but they still look the same, and you can still picture them hanging, either on Johnny’s fireplace or on the furniture your family put them on. Your fingers graze over your brother’s name and you smile fondly. “Can we hang them? So I… so I can pretend there will be something for him too?” You ask, turning to Haechan that’s already apprehensively staring at you.

“Of course, we can even fill his with something, if you want to,” he proposes, but you shake your head. The idea of the gifts being left there would just make you sad, but this is a good compromise.

“Our scarves!” You bend over to grab them. “We knitted them, and I think you can see it,” you chuckle, fingers running over the bumps in the wool and other imprecision.

“Better than me if I would try now. My mom is excellent at it, she made me try once and I made way worse than this,” Haechan says, grabbing the other scarf and noticing that it’s not perfect but not even terrible.

“I’ll keep in mind to ask your mom for this one,” you say, cuddling up to him.

“Nope, you won’t,” he jokes, shaking his head with vigor, slightly blushing.

There are other things in there, but mostly decorations, there’s even a Christmas decoration that you loved when you were a kid, and you’re so grateful she gifted it to you. But then Haechan is attracted by something else. “What is this?” he asks, lifting a gingerbread plush, and your heart sinks in your chest.

Not a word comes out of your mouth for almost a minute, as you try to get some saliva in your mouth. “It’s — it’s me…”

Haechan studies your expression and immediately puts it away, but you stop him.

“I’m fine,” you mumble. “I just… I need time…”

“I don’t need to know, it’s fine, really,” he reassures you, touching your hand, but you shake your head.

“No, I want to,” you say. You wet your lips and fidget with your fingers before taking the plush in your hesitant hands.

“It’s not a Christmas gift, but it’s the last gift I got from him… a few days before his death. He called me gingerbread because I was obsessed with gingerbread men as a kid. Honestly, I was terrorized by them, they were men, I thought I was committing cannibalism, but then I tried one and I loved being a cannibal,” you chuckle, voice shaking as you fight back tears. “And when I grew older, I wanted to make them myself, I wanted them to be our family thing, but they never became one. My parents worked until the 24th and didn’t have time to wake up early and make them with me, so it was only me and my brother. He would always wake up early with me and help me make them.”

“You didn’t make gingerbread men today,” Haechan points out.

“No, those are for the Eve and Christmas,” you say resolutely. “Don’t worry, I will make them for you,” you giggle, and he smiles.

“Go on, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. I would be worried sick too to be left without my cookies,” you joke before turning serious. “A week before his death he walked in a street market and saw this,” you shake the plush in your hands and smile, “and he gifted it to me. He told me that it wasn’t Christmas, so that was a sign that he had to buy it for me and that it was scandalous that in fifteen years he never gifted me anything related to gingerbread men. And I remember that… I laughed so much when I saw it because it’s cute but also weird. The eyes are slightly not on the same level, the smile is funny, and the white lines are all different, this one doesn’t even reach the seam. And he told me that that made it even more special and that I’ve never been normal, so it was even more me.”

“It looks like you now that I look better at it,” Haechan says, there’s a hint of irony but also sweetness in his voice.

You chuckle, wiping away a tear. “He used to often remind me he would always protect me, but when he gave me that, there was something different. And even if that was me, it was almost his way of telling me that he was always going to be with me, that’s why he had bought two. But his one was normal, and he kept it in the car.”

“You can stop,” Haechan says as soon as he guesses when this is going, but you shake your head.

“I held onto this toy for days at the hospital and it was the last thing he held before he… well… you know.” Your voice is broken by tears, the same ones that are rolling down your cheeks, but you’re fine. “I hated this, I hated that his got lost, destroyed, I don’t know, I… never dared to watch the conditions of the car after. I hated it because it was supposed to be me and this gingerbread man, not him. I hated it because it had lost his other half but didn’t feel half the pain I felt. So I threw it away.”

“But…”

“Is still here… yes. Because it’s me, and I survived,” you say, chuckling. “No, I’m kidding, no paranormal shits, it’s simply Johnny, I guess. He always knew what was better, and he must’ve kept it to the side, waiting for the right moment to bring it back to me.”

Haechan hums, his thumb still caressing your palm. “Are you mad?”

You raise your head, wiping away the tears. “No, I’m glad he always knows what to do with me. If you think you met me at my worst, you have no idea what Johnny had to go through when it all happened. He had to see the joyful, reckless, funny little girl he always knew turn into a cryptic, scheming, and cold woman from day to night and still decided to stick with me. He saw me at my worst, literally…” you breathe out. Another reason why you don’t like to think about back then is because you hate who you were.

“You deserved him, you deserved to have someone that didn’t judge you or blame you.”

You shrug. “I don’t know… I gave him a good dose of shit to deal with, as if he wasn’t mourning my brother too.”

“You know, from all these conversations we had over the past months, and after I could see what you have with Johnny from a closer point of view, I think you’re missing something.”

“Me?”

Haechan nods.

Your lips twitch in a wince, it’s been a while since Haechan taught you a life lesson, but usually you can see where he’s going, right now, you have no idea. “And what is it?”

“You always say that Johnny is like your brother, but Johnny is your brother. The three of you were raised together, his mom loves you as if you’re her daughter, and we all know that your brother trusted him with you so much that Johnny promised him to always keep you safe. Johnny didn’t choose to stay because he’s a good friend, but because you’re his sister, and because after losing his brother, he wasn’t going to lose you too. Maybe you hurt him, I truly don’t know what you two have been through, but he loves you so unconditionally that I’m sure he doesn’t regret it. And he would stick by your side over and over again.”

You smile fondly and hum. “You’re right, but I guess I’ll never get free of my guilt, will I? I mean, I still feel so bad for everything I put you through, no amount of good things happening between us makes me feel at peace with myself.”

“Not to take your therapist’s place but remember what she told you? Why you love to punish yourself for every little thing?”

You pout, nodding silently. Your awareness of you not being the cause of your brother’s death didn’t make the deepest parts of you aware in the same way. Something unconscious was still screaming at you, urging you to punish yourself even when there was forgiveness from the other side.

“Can you hug me? I don’t know what else to say,” you confess, and he smiles at you, pulling you into a hug. It lasts for minutes. Minutes of silence, heartbeats, and nothing more. Comfort. Peace. Healing. And when it breaks apart, you smile, feeling another brick of your walls falling down.

“Do you want to put this in a nice place or are you using it to take over your anger?”

You smile, grabbing the plush. “I want to put it somewhere nice.”

You never felt so much anxiety run through your bones as you do right now; pacing back and forth in the living room, staring obsessively at the clock, waiting to hear the ring of the bell that will mean such a big change for you.

You might’ve underestimated what meeting your boyfriend’s parents (and family) truly meant. All the hype you had until two weeks ago, disappeared when you remembered you had never met any of your partner’s parents before.

“Okay, enough.” Haechan jumps off the couch and stops you midway, blocking your arms. “I usually let you do your weird things, but you will consume the floor if you keep doing this and you will drive me insane.”

“But I’m nervous,” you whine, starting to torture your lips.

“Oh my god, stop that too,” he says, pulling your lower lip out of your teeth with his thumb. “Move and you’ll see,” he warns when he sees you lift your hand, knowing it will end up in your mouth to pull at your hangnails.

You sigh defeated and slump on the couch. “I’m nervous.”

“I got it,” he says, sitting next to you. “They’re chill, I promise.”

“But I was fine before. Maybe this is a gut feeling, you know? Something is telling me this will go wrong…”

“Yeah, and that something is your paranoid ass. Babe, come on. You’re perfect.”

You’re far from perfect, and sometimes you wish you could see yourself from his eyes to see what he sees of you because you struggle to see the amazing things he notices about you. And you fear his family will be extremely disappointed when the fantasies his son tells them through the phone won’t meet the reality.

Haechan is about to open his mouth again when the intercom rings, and you freeze.

“Come with me,” he smiles, reaching out a hand, tapping his feet when it takes you too long to take it. “Babe, come on.”

“I’m gonna pass out,” you mumble as your hand reaches him and you get up from the couch. Haechan sighs deeply as he basically drags you to the intercom to open the door on the floor.

“You’ll be fine,” he says, trying to shrug off what he’s feeling. Now that you’re so anxious, he can’t help but feel it too. Maybe this was too soon, maybe you’re not ready, maybe this will be the breaking point and he will lose you again.

But then the doorbell rings, and you’re the first to reach out your hand and open the door.

“Hi, mom,” Haechan greets when he sees you’re struggling to find the words and throws himself in her arms to give you time to take it all in.

“Hyuck,” she says, her calm tone filled with love, “look at you.” Her hands cup his cheek and squeeze them roughly, making him groan, and you chuckle. “And look at you,” she adds, bringing her attention to you.

“Hello, Mrs. Lee,” you greet, bowing at 90°, but she laughs, and you freeze.

“Oh, honey, please, just come here and let me give you a warm welcome to the family,” she encourages you, opening her arms.

You quickly glance at Haechan, silently asking if this is a test, but he reassures you with a smile and nods in her direction. So, you step forward and hug her.

“You smell so good, honey,” she compliments, squeezing you before letting you go, and resting her hand on your shoulder. “And wow. Haechan kept talking about you and I guessed you were pretty but not like this, you’re beautiful.”

“You’re too kind, Mrs. Lee,” you say, lowering your head to hide how shy you feel right now. “You look beautiful too, now I know why Haechan is so handsome.”

She chuckles and then pats your arm. “Thanks, sweetheart. And just call me by my name, please.”

“I will.”

“So, where are the others?” Haechan asks, looking behind his mom and seeing the empty corridor.

“We brought something, your dad is taking everything from the car, and your siblings are helping him,” she explains, lifting her bags as you let her come in. “I wanted to dim her trauma of meeting the whole family at once, so I came here as soon as we parked.”

Haechan rolls his eyes, grabbing the bag. “Food?”

“It wasn’t necessary, we prepared everything,” you say.

“I’ll never show up at your house with empty hands, darling,” she replies. “Also, I wanted you to try some of my specialties, I couldn’t wait anymore.”

A warm smile spreads on your face as you feel you can finally breathe again. Maybe this won’t be a disaster. “I can’t wait to taste them.”

Haechan was right. His family is loud. But it’s a kind of loudness you missed for so long, you can’t complain. His family is nice, and you can easily slide into conversations with them. The afternoon was mostly calm, you talked to get to know each other and ease the tension, you showed them the house —there wasn’t much to show, but they appreciated it anyway— and you even talked about future plans.

But now you’re alone in the kitchen, placing the plates you used for the appetizers in the sink, and when you smell smoke, you know it’s time for everything that went well until now to turn into a mess.

“Oh God, fuck no,” you curse under your breath, blocking your nose with your hand as you wave away the smoke from the oven and try to open it. “Not tonight, it can’t be fucking possible.”

“Hey, what’s going on — oh,” Haechan says, entering the kitchen after he hears the clattering and your murmuring.

“It burned. I burned the fucking lasagna. I have to make a good impression on your family and I burn it, I just burn it,” you almost cry, panicking over the burned pasta in the oven dish that now sits on the countertop. “Everything was supposed to be perfect, I had it all planned, and now, oh my god, the meat, check the meat,” you rant, turning around to check the oven again.

Haechan sighs, head peeking out of the kitchen door. “Sorry, just wait a sec, we’ll be there with the first,” he warns his family before locking the door behind him, not waiting for their answer. It’s not like they care much, busy eating bread, drinking delicious wine, and still admiring the beautiful job you and him did with the decorations.

“Hey, look at me,” he says, blocking you in place. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. It was supposed to be the first big serving of our dinner,” you whine, furrowing. “Our first Christmas dinner together and I fuck it up.”

“You didn’t,” he says, looking behind you, trying to hide his face because yes, it is burned, but he’s sure you can find a solution. You two always do. “We’ll fix it.”

“I won’t serve your family a burned lasagna, I refuse,” you cry, hiding in the crook of his neck. “What will your mom think of me?”

He chuckles. “Really? My mom is in love with you, she didn’t stop complimenting you for one second. The way you look, how smart you are, how pretty this place is and how well you keep it, the delicious food you’ve prepared. I’m sure she’ll have a story for a burned something too, come on.”

“No, let’s take the first layer off,” you say, pushing him away. “It’s ugly.”

“First,” he says, coughing, “we’ll open the window, alright? I don’t want to poison ourselves.” You watch him as he does and then go back to the mess in front of you. “And now, let’s fix this.”

You two take the first layer off, but you don’t feel better, that’s not supposed to be the last layer. You put so much love into it, finishing it with mozzarella and cheese, and now it’s burnt.

“It looks terrible, they will think I don’t know how to cook,” you huff.

“I know how to fix it, any parmesan cheese left?” Haechan asks, and you nod, opening the fridge to hand him the box with it in it. You watch him as he puts it on, hiding the tomato sauce, and making it look a bit better, and you think that he’s always the one fixing your mistakes. “See? It’s perfect now.”

You groan because it’s not what you planned. But it’s still better than before. “Let’s not make them wait longer.”

“Everything alright? Something happened in there?” His father asks when you two come out of the kitchen, closing the door behind, so the air in there can change, but you won’t freeze in the living room.

“Yeah, just a minor problem,” Haechan explains sitting the dish down, and you know he wants to pretend nothing happened, but you can’t keep it in.

“I burned it,” you confess. “I’m sorry, but I got distracted here talking and I forgot about it, and I burned it. And we took the burned part out, but this is not my lasagna. I’m a master at it, and I’m sorry this mess is your first encounter with it.”

“Oh, sweetie,” his mom says, “all the things I burned all the time. Try to manage four little demons and it will be surprising when you don’t make mistakes in the kitchen.”

“Hey! We’re angels,” his youngest brother, Dongwook, complains. “Also, can I have the burned part? I love it when it’s crispy.”

“It’s burnt, not crispy, it’s bad for you,” you say, but his big eyes pleading you, make you look at his parents for approval.

“Can you bring it here, please? We’ll see how bad it is,” his father says.

“Dad, Dongwook, you don’t need to see it,” Haechan intervenes, and you know he’s doing it to protect you but you reassure him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Sit, it’s fine. I’ll go take it.”

You take a deep breath and enter the kitchen again before coming out with the plate with what you and Haechan took off. “Here’s the mess.”

“This is not burnt,” Dongwook jumps in his seat, grabbing the plate and smiling happily. “You took out the best part!”

You look at his mother with concern because that is burned, maybe not a lot —you took out the completely black parts and only kept what could be somehow saved, less than half of the top layer— but it’s not crispy either.

Mrs. Lee just shrugs and tells you not to worry with a wave of the hand and you relax a bit.

“If it’s not good you don’t have to eat it, we have the meat, it’s still cooking, but it’s good,” you say as Haechan puts a slice in each plate. “I’ll get up in a few minutes to make sure that won’t burn.”

“Why are you so stern with yourself?” His sister, Dasom, asks and you freeze.

“Dasom,” Haechan scolds.

“What?” She scoffs. “She’s cool, if I was her, I would be annoying in the opposite way.”

You chuckle and lower your head because they’re so nice to you.

“You can’t ask people you’re not close with these questions,” he retorts, clearly not caring that her comment was supposed to be a positive one.

“It’s fine, Hyuck,” you say, reaching for his hand now that he’s sitting back at its place next to you. “I’m just a bit nervous and I want this dinner to go well. I wanted everything to be as perfect as I planned and…” when things don’t go as planned, I go insane, your son and brother was a victim firsthand, “…when they don’t, it just throws me off a bit. But it’s fine.”

“Shit!” Daehyun, the middle child, screams.

“Ya!” Mrs. Lee slaps his arm, glaring in an admonition to not say swear words.

“This is good!” he says, ignoring his mother. “Perfect. Girl, if this is not your best lasagna your best one is Star Michelin worth it!”

“Oh, no, that’s too much,” you say, starting to breathe again because for a moment you feared he had found a bone or nerve or something else in it. But you can’t hide the smile on your face when the entire family praises you, the little one even telling you to always burn it because he loves the crispy layer. You’re sure they’re exagerating a bit to cheer you up, but you still think it’s kind enough that they care to put a smile on your face.

Haechan nudges you subtly. “Told you,” he whispers, and you smile.

“I’m glad you like it,” you say, shyly meeting their gazes and feeling full as you stare at their happy faces.

And you remind yourself that it’s fine if things don’t always go as planned, sometimes mistakes and unforeseen can bring nice things. If it wasn’t for the unexpected, you wouldn’t have Haechan by your side and you wouldn’t be having a happy Christmas dinner with your new family.

You’re happy, and you feel at home.

“Mom,” Haechan whines, hiding his face against your shoulder before lifting it again, letting out another heavy sigh, “you didn’t have to bring the photo album here.”

“Oh, she did,” you chuckle, sitting better on the couch to be turned toward his mom who’s sitting next to you with the book resting on her legs.

You feel Haechan’s head rest against you again, this time completely given up and ready to face the humiliation.

“Are there embarrassing pics of us too?” His sister asks, sitting on the arm of the couch, leaning on her mom.

“Probably,” Mrs. Lee giggles before opening the book.

As the photos pass by, you can’t help but wonder why he’s so embarrassed. “You haven’t changed a bit,” you say, turning to him, moving your arm so you can wrap it around his shoulder, and his head presses against your chest.

“Thanks, exactly what I needed to hear,” he scoffs, his voice filled with sarcasm.

“You still have the same smile,” you point out, “and the mischievous grin.”

“Oh, that has always been him. Every time he did something he wasn’t supposed to do, or ruined something, that little smirk was there. I couldn’t even get mad at him,” his mom explains, and you smile at the image forming in your mind.

“Don’t pout,” you pinch his cheek, making him yelp, “it’s cute.”

“As long as you don’t have any from my teenage years, we’re fine,” he says, making his siblings laugh. “It’s not funny. You had the same phase as me,” he points at the two oldest, “and you are in it right now.”

“I’m not. I’m cool, unlike you.”

Haechan rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

“Look at this!” You scream, pointing a finger at a picture of him at the pool, he’s wearing a life vest and has a pool float around him, and his smile is so big as he waves at the camera with both hands.

“We went to the pool that day, he didn’t know how to swim, he even ate with the lifesaver on,” his dad says, eliciting another groan from him.

“Stubborn even as a child,” you joke, intertwining your hands.

“Let’s not get there,” his sister rolls her eyes, and Haechan pokes his tongue out in reply.

“You have curly hair?” You ask after seeing other pictures of him.

“Wavy, I would say,” he replies, shrugging.

“You look even softer like this. How did you not want to bite him every two seconds?” You ask his mom, and she laughs.

“The cuteness of his face really saved him from a lot of troubles,” she says. “Remember when you stole Mrs. Park’s apples?”

“I didn’t steal them, I had no idea about capitalism and economy. She gave them to me once, and I thought I could just take them,” he explains. “Turns out the real world is not that easy.”

“Uhm, a young thief, I didn’t know you were such trouble,” you tease, and he glares at you but then breaks in a laugh. “But seriously, you should wear your natural hair more often, I always thought you would perm them somehow or steal my products to curl them, I had no idea they were natural.”

“I always told him he looked better like that, never listened,” Dasom chimes in. “But I’m sure he will listen to the love of his life,” she mocks in a high-pitched voice and Haechan throws her a pillow.

You’d laugh at their exchange if only being called ‘the love of his life’ didn’t make your brain short-cut for a few seconds and send the beats of your heart to an insane rhythm.

“The love of your life, ugh?” You whisper.

“You know you are,” he says, smiling at you. “Or does this scare you away?”

“Not even your emo phase scared me away, so nope, I don’t think this will.”

“Hey! You didn’t see that yet.”

“But we’re getting close, the middle school years are around the corner,” his mom says.

The middle school years don’t scare you away, if it’s possible it all makes you love him even more. But the pictures you loved the most were the ones of the family. The ones where he’s holding his sibling after their births, the ones with them on their bikes, on a swing, while playing football or going down a slide. The ones of their summers, mostly at the few parks they had near because it was hard to go somewhere else, but it didn’t matter. You find yourself in them, glimpses of your family and the struggles you went through, always ending in little things that were enough to make everyone happy because being together was all that mattered. And you find yourself in them even now, as they talk, telling you stories, bickering over details that are insignificant but at the same time mean everything, teasing each other in ways only siblings can do. And you miss that, you feel a deep hole in your chest as you watch Haechan laugh with his sister. The way he talks to her, teases her, but at the same time has her back, reminds you of your brother and you. You feel the same void when you look at his parents, how they smile at their kids, the gentle touches of his mom, and the awkward way of demonstrating love of his dad. It all brings you home, and you wonder for a second what it would’ve been like… if only your parents were there too, if only the holiday weren’t such a slap in the face.

But after the cold shower, you feel a warm embrace. When his mom’s touch reaches you with soft pats on your knees or shoulder. When his sister talks to you to side against him. When his dad tells you he will show you how to carve wood. When his brothers eat your gingerbread men and keep praising you.

What could’ve been doesn’t matter because there is something now. This is good. You see a light at the end of the tunnel. You feel that your ‘what ifs’ might turn into reality one day, that maybe not next year, but in three, your family will be here too, and you will tell your stories just the same. Because you have a lot of them, and you’re sure your parents would get along with Haechan’s so well. This is warm. There’s not the cold of your lonely apartment or the awkward, abrupt silence as Johnny’s mom went back to her words, terrified of ruining your day. The void that opened in your heart is easily filled by them, and even if you can’t follow everything perfectly, and sometimes it gets overwhelming, you have Haechan’s hand on yours. He never leaves it, it’s there, right on top of yours, caressing your skin, keeping you grounded.

But then the question everyone has avoided comes. It’s like a drop falling on a vase full to its brim, and it freezes you and Haechan right on the spot.

“Can I ask where are your parents?”

“Mom,” Haechan is the first to talk, the stern gaze he gives his mom makes you feel worse than the question she asked.

“Sorry, I… I didn’t know, I thought she wanted maybe a break to call them or —”

“Mom!”

“It’s fine,” you stop him, looking into his eyes to calm him. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to tell them. They were doing fine without knowing anything,” he replies, looking at you. You can feel the anger in his voice and his eyes.

“I can tell bits,” you say. “Small steps, remember? You taught me that.”

You can feel the confused gazes in the room, and the attention annoys you more than having to explain yourself.

When you turn around, you see his mom, who is about to apologize again, but you stop her by lifting your hand. “My parents are not here,” you say. “I mean it’s obvious, and I guess you want to know why. I’m…” you chuckle nervously. “I’m pretty sure we… we go along well, and we’re family now… right?” You ask hesitantly.

“Yeah, of course, you were family the moment I saw Haechan’s eyes shine bright when he spoke about you,” his mom says, and you smile.

“Good. And families should be open with each other, but there are some things I… I still want to keep to myself.”

When Haechan hears your voice shake, he places his hand on your back, and you relax at the touch. “Me and my parents basically don’t talk anymore. We text for the birthdays, and the important holidays but that’s it. There’s a reason behind it and I think no one is to blame, something happened and the three of us reacted badly, so I don’t want you to think they’re bad.”

“We’re sorry,” they say at the same time, and you chuckle.

“We would never think that anyway, not without knowing people’s stories,” his mom says. “I’m sorry I asked. I didn’t think that since you didn’t bring it up, you didn’t want to talk about it.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m glad you did, so you at least know this of me,” you reassure her. “And I’m sorry I’ve been quiet about myself. I prefer present-me to past-me, especially if I can’t talk about… if I can’t tell the full story.”

“It’s like Haechan’s middle school pictures,” his sister says, clearly to take some pressure off your shoulders, and you laugh. “Imagine seeing the photos and not telling that he did that to get a girl’s attention.”

“Dasom, it was a serious moment!” Haechan says.

“What? She laughed! She’s prettier when she laughs, and she was sulking. You shouldn’t want to see your girlfriend sad,” she justifies, sipping on her drink, and you high-five her.

“I don’t like you two being so close,” he jokes, pulling you back next to him. But with the corner of your eyes, you notice that his face is much more relaxed now.

“But seriously, I… I thought I could talk about it, I do with him,” you say, pointing at Haechan. “But your stories were so happy and I miss that kind of thing, you know, a family like yours, so I prefer to listen to you. It made me happy, and I don’t want to make me and all of you sad.”

You can see the pity behind their eyes. They don’t know what happened, but they can guess, and anything it’s not a happy guess, so they’ll want to tell you something but you stop that from happening.

“And since it’s almost midnight, and we need to open the gifts soon, why don’t we lighten the mood with some music?” You say, standing up. “Dasom, what about your karaoke?”

She gasps, staring at Haechan behind you. “You told her?”

“Of course, I needed her to be ready.”

“I wouldn’t have done that here, with her, on our first meeting,” she says.

“But I want you to, I used to do it with my brother, so it would mean the world to me.” You see that when you talk about your brother it’s like she realizes it, something makes her understand what happened, but she doesn’t say anything. She smiles, gets up, and grabs your hand. You jokingly find yourself thinking that if anything will ever go wrong with Haechan, you might try to date her.

“I’ll go get something else to drink,” Haechan says, getting up, “you two monsters come with me.”

The rest of the night goes smoothly. You sang for a while before sitting on the floor around the coffee table to eat the dessert you and Haechan’s mom prepared. Popped the champagne when the clock hit midnight, exchanged gifts (his mother gave you two homemade matching sweaters, they were so beautiful you struggled to have a normal reaction), and then played board games.

“I really wish you could stay but this place is so small, I wouldn’t know where to make you sleep,” you say when you’re exchanging goodbyes.

“You worry too much, honey,” Mrs. Lee says, hugging you. “Everything was perfect, from this afternoon to the dinner, and then the photos, the singing. I never had so much fun. And you know what, I was truly sorry for your lasagna, but it was so nice to not be the one that has to worry about that for once,” she jokes, eliciting a quiet laugh from you.

“I’m glad you had fun. I never planned a Christmas dinner before, and I feared making you come here from the afternoon would’ve bored you or something, but I think it was a great idea.”

“It was. And for being your first time, you were amazing. You have nothing to worry about, also the mistakes and the funny things end up in the stories we tell in the years to come, right?”

“Right.”

“Get dressed,” she orders the youngest before glaring at Daehyun, “you’re twenty, you should do your things without me telling you.”

You laugh when they resume bickering while putting their coats on. You catch her rolling her eyes before bringing her attention to you.

“You know, Donghyuck didn’t bring many people at home before. Most of the time, I had to guess he had some flings or something, but even the ones he felt were worth meeting us, weren’t like you. And I’ve seen him in love, I’ve seen him do crazy stuff, but I’ve never seen him like this,” she smiles fondly. “A mother notices a lot of things, and I’ve noticed his touches on your hand, how he plays with your hair or caresses your back, I’ve seen him rage when one of us overstepped. But most importantly, I see the love. I already had the feeling through the phone calls, but seeing his eyes light up, watching him get lost in you with every breath… wow, I fear you put a spell on him,” she chuckles. Her gentle eyes move between you and her son as a soft smile curls her lips, creating some wrinkles on her cheeks.

“He loves me like nobody ever loved me before, and…” you pause, turning your attention on him, watching him laugh with his dad, smiling in reflection before your eyes are on his mother another time. “I know it might sound exaggerated from the outside, but his love saved me more than I knew I needed to be saved.”

She smiles, caressing your arm. “Yeah, I noticed that too. I don’t know what happened, I don’t know if that made you bond more, but if you ever fear he’s not into this, I want you to know that he’s serious. When he told me he moved out of his apartment to live with his girlfriend, I was speechless. I thought he was never going to settle down, especially not so soon. But he did that, and even if he was afraid, he was happy about it.”

You want to tell her he was afraid for you, but you can’t or else she might think you don’t love him just as much, so you smile and nod. “This was a big step.” It’s not a lie, it was a big step for him too. His life was completely different before you two met and everything changed.

“Oh, but an amazing one. Look at how cute your place is, it feels like home. Even if it’s not big, even if it doesn’t have design pieces, even if it’s not in the center of town, you’ve got each other. And that’s something you can’t ever take for granted,” she says, and you see her smile sadden a bit as she looks over at her husband, who’s now busy talking with Haechan and Dasom. “But I don’t want to talk about what I had to go through with my husband, what matters is that we made it, and we raised four wonderful kids. And I don’t know if you want them or not, it doesn’t matter, there’s time to grow and change, but you’re young now, and have all your life to live, just the two of you. I just want you to remember to always have each other’s back. Even if you both decide you want to make another big step, you have to have each other to give love and water another flower.”

You wipe away a tear, lowering your head, and she coos, caressing your cheek. “No, darling, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“It’s fine,” you reassure her. Her words made you sad for other reasons, stinging right at the missing piece left by the absence of your parent’s love. “I’m very lucky to have him. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Mom,” Haechan’s voice rings behind you, and you notice his worried look when he sees you wipe away some other tears.

“We were just talking, I’m about to cry too, it’s normal,” she explains, smiling at you and you smile back.

“Sure?” He asks you and you nod. “Yeah, also, I’m just a bit tired.”

“We’ll go now, seriously. We stayed way too long,” she says, calling the sibling at her side with a snap of the fingers.

“Tomorrow at lunch you’ll be here, right?” Haechan asks. His arm wraps around your waist, and he pulls you closer, thumb caressing your side in gentle motions.

“I do not plan on eating at that hotel, so you can bet I’m going to be seated here, eating the amazing food she cooks,” his dad replies, and you chuckle.

“Even if I burn it?” you joke.

“Yes, even if you poison it, honestly.”

“He ate something at the buffet when we arrived and wanted to change the hotel,” Haechan’s sister adds, rolling her eyes, and making you all laugh.

“That’s where you get the overdramatic-ness,” you whisper only for Haechan to hear, and he mocks you with a stupid face.

“Well, time to go, we annoyed them enough,” Dasom says, pushing the younger out of the door. “Merry Christmas, and thank you for everything!”

“Merry Christmas to you too!” You and Haechan greet again, watching as they all make their way out of the apartment. “See you tomorrow.”

“Cover up, it’s cold outside,” you say. “And drive safely, please.”

“We will, it’s not far from here,” his dad reassures you.

“Goodnight!”

When you make sure they enter the elevator, you close the door behind, and you sigh.

“Yeah, I now realize I should’ve made you meet them sooner for a shorter amount of time,” Haechan says right away with a hint of irony in his voice.

“You’re kidding, they’re amazing. I love them.”

“So you’re not overwhelmed?”

“Maybe a bit, but they’re so much fun. Your mother is lovely. And I love your sister, I need her number so we can become friends.”

“Nope, not happening. You two together will be the death of me,” he laughs, shaking his head.

You stick your tongue out before opening your arms to him, begging for a hug. He doesn’t hesitate to pull you in, breathing deeply your sweet scent as he caresses your back. “You did so well today, I’m so proud of you.”

You don’t reply, just smile in the crook of his neck as your arms hold him tighter and feel all the pent-up stress leave your shoulders. You let his perfume lull you, and the warmth of his body calm you. You two stay there for a while, he leaves small kisses on the top of your head, and you chuckle when it tinkles, and just hug him tighter. And you think that, even if you’re always all over each other, hugging is not something you do a lot, and you need to change that. But you’re both starting to feel the tiredness of the day, and you’re the first to pull away.

“Come on, let’s go get changed, I want to slump in our ugly pajamas together.”

In less than twenty minutes, you both have showered and changed into your matching pajamas, the lights in the living room are off, and you’re ready to go to bed.

When you enter the bedroom, you see Haechan at the window, looking outside, and you quickly reach him, hugging him from behind and starting to leave kisses on his neck, making him giggle.

“What?” He hums when he looks behind and finds you staring at him with big doe eyes.

“You were so cute as a kid,” you whisper.

“Yeah, I noted that you would’ve had a crush on me if we met during kindergarten,” he chuckles, and you do the same.

“No, dummy,” you scoff. “I mean, yes, probably. You were a charmer with your pretty curls and that smile. Would’ve swept little me right off my feet.”

He turns around, hugging you. “Should we go back in time and see?”

“Nah, I like our romantic start with the fuck in the car, more appropriate for adult-us,” you joke, and he laughs. “But little you got me a baby fever.”

“Oh,” Haechan says, furrowing. “You run fast when you want to.”

You shake your head, snickering. “I’m not that serious, I don’t want it right now, but... it sparked in my mind just for a moment.”

“Yes, we would make pretty kids, that’s what you’re saying.”

“You ruin all the fun with all this mind-reading,” you pout, crossing your arms on your chest, and he laughs, kissing your pout.

“Sorry,” he says. “I can’t give you a kid right now, but we can practice, so we know what to do when we want one.”

You stare at him. “Tell me this was not supposed dirty talking because it’s the worst line that ever came out of your mouth.”

“Hey! I was trying to be sexy.”

“You’d be sexier if you just straight up told me you wanted to fuck. Because it’s also what I’ve been subtly trying to tell you.”

“Nah-ah, you said you wanted my kids,” he teases, kissing your lips.

You roll your eyes. “Not what I wanted to say.”

“I don’t reckon a breeding kink, though. Missed something from your bdsm test results?”

“Shut up, that’s weird. I was being sweet before, not horny. And breeding kink is only funny when it doesn’t turn into actual pregnancy.”

He stares at you with a confused face, and you scoff, waving him off with your hand.

“Can I give you the special Christmas gift?” You say, changing subject, batting your lashes seductively at him.

“Sure.”

“Sit on the bed,” you order and then watch as he does what you say before you take a few steps back so there’s some distance between you.

“You will not striptease with that ugly nightwear on?”

You roll your eyes and sigh heavily. “Why do you have to ruin all the fun? This is the best part of it all, the ugly nightwear. Now, will you let me do what I have to do, or do I have to go to somebody else? You know, we don’t have Mark next door anymore, but the neighborhood down the corridor is always so nice to me, and he used to flirt before you moved here, so I’m sure he would appreciate it.”

“Oh, shut up! He’s lowkey a creep, and he always stares at you as if he’s never seen a woman his entire life. He probably wouldn’t even make you come, but he’ll nut in his pants as soon as you’ll touch him.”

You chuckle at his accurate description. “So, you don’t want all this to go to waste, right?” you ask, pointing at your body from head to toe. “You better shut up and let me do what I have to do.”

“Go on,” he says, nodding, and then sits more comfortably on the bed.

Your dance as you strip is not exactly the sexiest thing on earth with the fluffy, baggy pants and no music playing in the background, but Haechan is having a lot of fun anyway watching your hips move, your hands run on your body, and your teasing faces.

But it quickly turns serious when you lift your top off your head, revealing a red lace bra.

“Fuck,” Haechan mutters, sucking his breath in and squeezing his thighs for a second. He has your body imprinted in the back of his mind by now, yet, every time, you leave him breathless.

You keep going, letting the pants fall on the floor and gracefully picking them up to lay them on the chair, hips swinging as your hands run on your exposed body. You turn around, giving him a perfect view of your ass, and he bites back a moan. You chuckle delightedly, feeling shivers form on your skin when you hear him shuffle with his pants, probably pulling them down to ease the boner.

You bend over, looking at him upside down, winking when he meets your gaze, before giggling when your eyes fall on his fist wrapped around his dick.

“Hard already?” You ask teasingly, standing up and facing him.

“What does it look like?”

You pout, tilting your head. “I guess we have to do something about it. It’s too easy to turn you on.”

“It’s not my fault you know all the right bottoms to push,” he replies.

You huff. “Please, I just danced a bit, like this,” you stop, swinging your hips again and touching your body, cupping your boobs in the see-through red bra before reaching your neck and moving down again. “And bent over.”

He sighs again, but you notice the gulp when he follows your body. “Dance for me?”

You smile. “You don’t want me to take care of you?”

“Not yet,” he breathes out. “Just dance for me, I’ll put some music on.”

You smile and start moving, this time with slow music filling the silence. The Christmas lights hanging in the bedroom make the room look like a club, and you quickly get into the vibe.

Seeing Haechan stroking his hand on his hard dick lazily while his eyes are stuck on you, is turning you on much quicker than expected. It goes on for a while, your body moving to the rhythm while his hand gradually picks up the pace, especially when you get in more provocative positions or get close to him, only to leave him with nothing.

“Touch yourself,” he orders after long minutes of silence. “Bring the armchair in front of me and touch yourself with me.”

A small gasp leaves your lips, but you’re quick to follow the instructions. You slowly sit, trying to maintain the sexy vibe.

“Don’t undress.” His voice stops you right when your hands are about to pull the panties down. “You look too good in that set to throw it on the floor already.”

You smirk, and then your hands move on your body. You throw your head back on the chair as you enjoy the sensation of your hands running on your skin, teasing your nipples, and slowly —too slowly, from Haechan’s annoyed groan— you start parting your legs. It’s clear it’s not enough when he says a stern call of your name.

“Something wrong? Do you need something?” You tease, tilting your head to the side while your hands never stop touching your body, everywhere but where he wants you to.

His eyebrow raises, and he scoffs. “You shouldn’t be naughty on Christmas, you know that?”

You snicker, rolling your head back for a second before locking your gaze again. “Pfft, I already had my gifts, I can be as naughty as I want to.”

“But do you? Do you want to?” He teases you, leaning a bit over. “I can see the dark spot from here, are you sure you want to punish yourself any longer?”

You gulp at the intensity of his eyes. One second, you two are in a teasing-switchy-mode, and then one second later, he has this hold on you with just one look, pinning you down, leaving you no choice but to obey.

“Good girl,” Haechan praises as soon as your legs spread open, one dangling down the seat, the other dangling on the armrest, and your fingers start moving your clit.

A gasp of relief comes out of your lips, and your eyes flutter shut.

“Nah-ah, look at me. I want you to keep your eyes on me.”

You lock eyes with him, feeling warmer. You love the way he looks at you, you’re sure you’ll never get tired of it. His eyes are full of lust and love, making you feel desperately wanted and loved. You feel so comfortable in that, knowing you can let him do whatever you both want and never feel used. It is a recurring thought every time you’re exposed to him because it’s something that you didn’t experience in the past.

“Can — can you tell me what to do?” You shily ask.

His lips curl in a smirk. “You want me to give you instructions? Not in the mood to have control tonight?”

You shake your head. You don’t feel like it, even if you love teasing and being bratty, tonight you want to leave the reins in his hands and let him guide you.

“Good.” Haechan clears his throat and sits better on the bed, his hand still slowly touching himself while the other lays flat on the mattress to keep his body up. “Tease your nipples with your other hand, I know you love to play with your boobs.”

Your hand moves up swiftly, not wasting a second, and a shaky breath comes out of your lips as your fingers rub the hard, sensitive bud. They’re already hard from the chilly temperature of the room, the heat warming it up just enough to be warm if dressed up, but soon get even harder from the stimulation.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He asks with a teasing edge in his voice, and you nod. “Move the panties to the side, let me see how wet you are.”

As soon as you move the crotch to the side, his eyes intensely stare between your legs as he licks his lips, watching your cum drip down, and you have to bite back a moan.

He snickers and you raise a brow. “And to think all you did was dance for me.”

Your throat goes dry at the mockery but you find the words anyway. “But you — you are touching yourself.”

Haechan chuckles again, throwing his head back to push back his hair before lifting it. “Yes? It turns you on so much to see my hand wrapped around my dick? Want to have your hand wrapped around it?”

You nod as you bring your thumb to your lips, biting a hangnail. And he laughs. “You’re serious about me guiding you, torturing your pretty nails to contain yourself and don’t let a finger slip inside of you.”

At the call out, you move away your thumb but he only laughs louder. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Slip a finger in and tell me what’s running in your mind.”

Your finger slips in with ease, bringing relief, but words struggle to come out of your mouth as you feel smaller and smaller under his gaze. “I want to — I want to suck it.”

Haechan smirks, tilting his head to the side. “Really? Want to be on your knees, between my legs?”

You nod with much more enthusiasm needed, but you don’t care. It’s too tempting now that he has his legs vulgarly spread, his thick thighs begging to be touched as you take his dick in your mouth, and his eyes slightly glossy with pleasure. It’s not a common sight, but you love it. Looking up and seeing his face wrecked, his eyes teary, but what you love the most are his moans and whimpers, so high and needy, as he unconsciously starts fucking your mouth to reach his high.

“Maybe I’ll let you do it after, but first take care of yourself…”

You huff but don’t complain further and start to move your finger faster.

“Good girl. Push another finger in, come on, fuck yourself faster,” he encourages, clearly understanding you’re growing impatient and want more. “You’re so filthy,” he snickers. “So fucking wet, listen to the pretty sounds you make.”

A muffled moan is your reply to his comment, but your body speaks more than words. Your head rolls back and your eyes close before you remember he told you he wants you to keep eye contact, and your pussy gets even wetter with each pump of your fingers.

“Please, another one,” you beg. Typically two fingers are perfect, but with each sound of his hand sliding up and down on his dick, and the sight of his length throbbing as droplets of cum roll down his cock and hand, you can’t help but want to fool your body that he’s inside of you.

He smirks, but it’s not as teasing as before, he’s starting to falter too. “Go on, add another one. Stuff yourself full, pretend all you want that’s my dick inside of you.” It’s not much the dirty talk, but the way he knows you so well that makes you shiver and close your legs for a split second. There’s nowhere to hide with him.

You bite your lips to push down your throat a pathetic, high moan when he stops his movements to take his top off, leaving it on the other side of the bed. He’s completely naked now, one hand running in his long brown locks before it goes back to his side to keep his body up, and the other wraps around his cock.

“You’re so hot,” you whine, huffing. And he chuckles, cheeks blushing a bit. You rarely compliment him during sex, too fucked out to vocally tell him what he does to you, and it’s always your body speaking to him. So when it happens, he’s not used to it.

“Am I? Or are you only turned on by this?” He jokes, head pointing between his legs.

You shake your head. “It’s you, fuck. Your hair, your lips, the moles on your skin.”

He chuckles, stopping your praises. “My moles?”

“Yeah, your moles, I love them,” you confess. He should’ve got this a while ago, considering you always let your fingers brush them and connect them with invisible strings. “I love your stomach, your waist, your thighs. And your hands, fuck, they’re so beautiful.”

This time it’s a genuine smile that spreads on his face before he lowers it to hide the effect your words had on him, and you smile too.

“Want to come?” He asks, still overwhelmed by the praises, and you giggle. He’s always so confident, you can’t believe he’s acting shy now.

“Yes, please. Together?”

“Together.”

You pull the third finger out, prioritizing swiftness and deepness over thickness — you’ll have time for that. And start to quickly move your two fingers in and out while your thumb rubs your clit. Your other hand plays with your boobs with more eagerness, pinching the nipples and cupping the soft flesh as you please. And soon enough you’re both coming. Haechan’s fast strokes and loud moans are the last thing you need to come, unexpectedly squirting and hitting him too.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he groans, biting his lips, hips squirming as more cums keeps coming out of him, messily hitting his stomach, chest, and legs.

Your head rolls back as the pleasure starts slowing down, your fingers are still lazily riding out the orgasm, and your eyes fall shut as your lungs take deep breaths.

“Fuck, come here, this is torture,” Haechan groans, getting up to pull you on the bed on top of him, not waiting to be steady on his knees.

You chuckle at his eagerness, honestly, you’re surprised he lasted that long without touching you.

“Next time we’re doing this,” he hums, kissing you, “you’ll sit between my legs. I need to feel you close.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” you giggle, pushing him flat down the mattress, and straddling his lap. Your hips grind on him, smearing the cum that splashed on his stomach on you, but you don’t care. You’re focused on kissing him, letting your fingers run in his long hair while enjoying the sensation of his running on your skin.

“Mhh, are you going to be offended if I ride you instead of sucking your dick?” You ask, smiling awkwardly.

He bursts into a loud laugh and then shakes his head. “Do you think I’d say no to that?”

“I don’t know, I was kinda drooling over that, maybe the idea turned you on.”

Haechan shrugs, pulling you into another kiss as his hands cup your ass. “It did turn me on, but I can’t stand another second not pressed against you. Why don’t we flip position, mhh? You wanted to be pampered tonight.”

You smile, nodding. “Yeah, I’d prefer it. I don’t think I would last long on top.”

He rolls you on your back, his lips never leaving yours and you chuckle in the kiss, trying to get rid of your panties, but he stops you again. “Keep them on, please.” You do as told, choking on a silent moan when his fingers brush your clit as he helps you keep them to the side.

“You love this set, don’t you?”

He nods, giving two tugs on his dick as he starts pressing it against your soaked slit. “Looks good on you.”

A breathy, shaky moan slips from both of you as he sinks in, slowly as he always does, enjoying the feeling of every inch filling you up until he bottoms down.

“You alright?” Haechan asks, and you nod with a small smile on your face.

“Please fuck me?” You ask, trying to don’t show how eager you are.

He chuckles but doesn’t tease you, instead, he places a hand on your hip and the other at the side of your head on the bed as his hips start moving. Each thrust is deep and long, knocking the air out of your lungs. And you get lost in the smooth movements of his body, rolling so easily to please you —God bless all those years of dancing. Your head rolls back when he snuggles in the crook of your neck to leave kisses on your skin, and your arms fly to wrap around him and bring him closer.

You barely notice how one of his hands sneaks under your arched back to free you from the bra, and only sigh at the feeling of freedom that quickly gets overwhelmed with pleasure when his lips wrap around your hard nipples.

“Fuck, Hyuck,” you whimper with your fingers clenched hard around his hair. You’re tempted to look at him, staring at his concentrated face as he sucks on your nipple, sending more shivers down your spine, but you’re too lost in pleasure and can’t bring yourself to look up.

You bite your lips when he moves to the other side and the chill air of the room lingers over the warmth left by his mouth. The constant stimulation of your sensitive buds sends new shivers down your spine and makes the knot in your stomach tighten.

“Fuck, babe, your boobs are so soft,” Haechan moans against your skin. His other hand creeps up and wraps around the neglected one, squeezing tight.

A breathy moan rolls from your hips as your hand tangles in his hair and your hips jerk up against him.

“What? Why are you pulling away?” You ask in a whine when Haechan moves away from you and pulls out.

“I don’t think you want me to rip them, right?” Haechan snickers as his fingers pull your panties down.

“Oh, I thought — never mind,” you mumble, feeling heat creep on your face.

He smiles, his gaze is gentle as ever as he lifts your face. “You thought I was leaving you?”

You nod shyly, biting your lips.

“I would never. See? I’m right here,” he reassures you. His lips meet yours, one hand cups your face and the other helps him slide into you again.

You moan in the kiss while your hands reach his hair to pull him against you. “Want you,” you slur, watery eyes looking into his.

“I’m here, I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers. “I just needed to get them out of the way.”

Your lips meet again, and never truly part again. His rhythm picks up again, but this time he pushes your legs against your chest, reaching deeper, making you feel every inch more.

“Hyuck,” you whine, throwing your head back as you gasp for more air.

“Feels good? Do you like it when I fuck you like this?”

You nod frenetically. “Feels — feels good.”

Haechan smirks, thumb brushing on your burning cheek before running over your quivering lips. “You’re so beautiful when you’re vulnerable like this,” he whispers, and you’re not sure you were supposed to hear it because it feels as if he’s talking about something else. It’s about you showing yourself fully to him, with no armor, and no mask, and not only during sex.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Taking me so well, so warm and wet,” he mutters under his breath, messily kissing you again, and reaching for your hand to intertwine it with his. With each drag of his dick inside of you, you feel closer to the edge, and automatically your legs wrap around his waist, pushing him deeper.

“Fuck,” he groans, not expecting you to do that, and you feel his hips falter for a second, but he swiftly picks up the steady rhythm.

“I’m close,” you whisper, and he hums.

“Wait for me, can you, princess? I’m close too, just — fuck — just a bit more.”

You nod and then feel the urge to do something. You’ve got more comfortable with time, but eye contact can still be pretty hard and vulnerable for you, yet you don’t think much when you cup his face and force him to look straight into your eyes. This time your stomach flutters from love, and you melt in his golden brown eyes looking into yours with nothing but love. And you can’t hold it anymore. “I love you,” you whisper, the sincerity and vulnerability in your voice watered down by lust but clearly there.

Haechan doesn’t expect it; you see it in his eyes widening and you feel it in his hips slowing down for a few seconds. This is the first time it comes out of your lips while you’re having sex, he’s always the one getting a bit more caught up, confessing his love even in these intimate moments, while you save it for other times. He gulps, not knowing what do to, but then a shy smile creeps on his face as he lowers it again; just the time to regain his usual confidence before staring back at you. “I love you, too.”

You smile, feeling warmth spread across your chest, and pull him in a kiss.

And after that, you two are just skin and bones burning in synch in the passion of your love. One of your hands is in his hair, tugging a bit, while the other is wrapped around his shoulder, your nails scraping his delicate skin, and your legs are still wrapped around his waist. While Haechan’s hand is resting on your hip, and the other is holding his body up now that he’s lying closer to you and has more risk of losing balance.

The orgasm washes over you at the same time as he keeps fucking into you and you kiss each other, moaning in the messy meeting of your lips. His fingers dig in your skin and your nails dig in his scalp, but none of you feel pain, just more pleasure as you both ride out your orgasm.

Haechan doesn’t pull out right away. His head falls in the crook of your neck where he leaves more kisses, praising you in whispers, and you lay there with a dumb smile on your face.

“Can I stay here inside of you forever?” He jokes, looking at you with a playful smirk on his face.

You chuckle, shrugging. “I would lie if I said I’d be bothered, but unfortunately it would be impractical.”

“Fine, then just a bit more.”

You both enjoy the intimacy of this closeness, occasionally kissing and caressing each other and when he pulls out of you, you groan, feeling suddenly cold.

“I’ll be back, just let me get something to clean you up,” he says, leaving a peck on your lips before leaving.

Haechan comes back with a wet towel in hand, sits next to you, and gently wipes you clean. Your legs close at the stimulation but his hand on your thighs helps you don’t focus on the fabric passing over your sensitive core. It’s quickly done, and he can come back next to you after a few minutes.

You rest your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat, and smile when his hand wraps around you and starts caressing your back after pulling the covers on top of you.

“Thank you,” Haechan whispers, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“For?”

“For trying,” he replies, looking down at you to meet your eyes. “This time of the year is always so hard for you, and even last year you hated it, even if we were already together. I know you used to love it, but I thought it was going to take more time to live it with a light heart, well, as light as it can be,” he chuckles, but it’s an awkward laugh. There’s some pain in his voice, and you know that if it was possible he would take your pain and put it on his shoulders, but he can’t.

You flip on your stomach, to look at him better, but that doesn’t stop his fingers from dancing on your back.

“You underestimate me,” you joke. You’re not sure you want to talk about this now. The holidays are long, you’ve planned the entire week with his family, except for two days, you might still have some lows. But Haechan seems to always appreciate every small step you take, and you feel good in that pride.

“No, I know how hard some things are for you. And even if I want you to get better, I would never force you into anything. And it’s… it just means so much to me that you did all of this for me. I mean, for you too, but you started planning months before, you proposed to invite my family over for me. And trust me, I know that our house is still a sacred safe place for you, and you still don’t easily let people in, but you let them. And letting them in is probably scarier than when you let me in back then. But you did it, because you know how much I love my family and how much I love this month and this celebration, and what you did means everything to me.”

You chuckle, pushing back some tears because you don’t want to cry. “You gave me the strength to do it. I couldn’t stay anchored to the past any longer, it was now or never. If I started hating the holidays even with you by my side, it would’ve been the end of it all. I… once I start relating negative experiences with something I never stop doing that. As much I loved the way the Suhs invited me over in the past years, I knew I couldn’t take another pity-Christmas-dinner. We should have one with them too one day, maybe, but no more pity, I can’t take it anymore.”

Haechan smiles, caressing your face. “You were different when we ate at Johnny’s last time, I think his parents saw that too. And they weren’t walking on eggshells anymore. Let’s be honest, with you it’s not eggshells, it’s bombs, so I can’t blame them.”

A soft laugh rolls off your tongue as your head falls against his chest, but the lighthearted moment comes to an end when a veil of sadness falls on your face.

“Something wrong?”

You shake your head. “No, I just realized some things.”

“About you?”

“About you,” you say. “I feel I will never be able to make you understand how much you changed my life for the better. And I know that in your eyes I sound so dramatic at times, but…” you sigh, eyes falling on the white sheets before meeting his curious gaze again. “But you mean so much to me, and you taught me everything I had forgotten with time. I used to go on with my days, but I didn’t fully live them. I was constantly afraid: of failing, of hurting someone, even killing someone, so I didn’t love, I didn’t feel. All my emotions in the past years were felt by a 30%, just to fool myself that if I didn’t give, if I didn’t put myself out there, I was safe, and… looking back at it now, it sucked.” You stop again, trying to give an order to your thoughts, and Haechan gets it. He doesn’t talk, he waits and listens. Haechan listens. To your words. To your cries. But most importantly to your silence. Because with you, at times, it says much more than words.

“Somehow, I had died with him that day. Not physically, but I was quick to kill myself to punish myself for what happened. And then you brought me back to life. I was so scared with you because now I… I can die again. Now I have something to lose, I have so much to lose, and it should be scary, but I weirdly feel at peace. I know it doesn’t look like it, but I notice it because I scheme for the little things now, and just let life wash over me. I don’t want control of the bigger picture, I can direct the behind-the-scenes, I guess,” you joke, and he laughs too. His face is relaxed, and it feels good to be an open book, to have no fear of opening up and fearing that the other will leave. “Your mom told me something that made me think of this. As long as we’ll have each other’s back, it won’t be as scary. And this would be scary too if I felt that one of us wasn’t 100% sure of this relationship but, I don’t know, I have the impression that we might want to be in this for a long time.”

Haechan chuckles, and then nods, pretending to think about it. “Yeah, I like ‘for a long time’. It’s stable but not forever. Let’s be honest, would I want to date you even in the afterlife? Nah, come on, give me a break at least there.”

You laugh and then wrap an arm around his torso. “Just two dates with other ghosts, and then you’re coming back to me.”

“Yeah, fine,” he huffs, but his voice is filled with irony, and then his lips are on yours again.

“Be honest, was the lasagna that good, or did they fake it?” You ask with a furrow on your forehead, still tangled in the hug.

Haechan laughs. “Oh my god, I gave you a mind-blowing orgasm and you’re still thinking about that? But yeah, it was good, if it was bad, you would’ve seen it in their faces. They loved it, and they love you.”

The conversation doesn’t die there, but shifts from funny moments you had yesterday and the plans you have for the days to come. Then you realize you haven’t texted Johnny and his family a Merry Christmas yet; you could’ve done it in the morning, but you were used to waiting at midnight together and even if it’s almost 3 am, you still want to do it to somehow keep your tradition alive.

You grab your phone, and write him a text, finishing it with the promise you’ll also be calling him tomorrow. You have so many things to tell him, you know it’s going to be a long call in the morning as you prepare everything for lunch. And right before you’re about to lock the screen again, Haechan stops you.

“Wait, wait, wait, what? Who’s that?” He says, pointing at the name of a contact and you laugh. “Why are you laughing? What’s funny? My pathetic loser?”

“With a heart at the end,” you add, showing him the phone. “It’s you by the way.”

Haechan gasps offended, but you see it’s all an act and he’s just curious to know why you have him saved like that. “Really? I’m a loser? A pathetic loser?”

“No, you’re my pathetic loser,” you correct him.

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Oh, wow, that makes me feel better,” he jokes.

“Well, it’s how I saved you when I got your number three years ago.”

His eyes widen even more, and you’re not sure he’s completely faking it. “And couldn’t change it to something more romantic over the years?”

“This is the romantic version. At first, you weren’t mine, just the cheesy, annoying, simpy, guy Johnny tried to make me hook up with, but now, you are the cheesy, annoying, simpy, love of my life.”

He groans, ripping the pillow from under his head to hide his face and scream in it and you laugh at his reaction. “And then I’m the cheesy, romantic one!” He points out and you only shrug.

“I can change it if you don’t like it,” you say, snuggling closer to him, pulling the pillow away to kiss his jawline and caress his hair back, soft and long, framing his face perfectly.

“Are you kidding? I love it,” he says, pulling you on top of him, and kissing you.

“Good, I’m glad you like it, my pathetic loser.”

It’s late, but you can’t stop talking, tangled up in the sheets, after slipping back into your comfy pajamas, peeing, and leaving the shower for the morning. You tell him the stories you didn’t say today, and he tells you some others his family doesn’t know, and just when the clock hits 4, sleep starts to take over. The soft caresses on your back and his warm body close to yours lull you into a comfortable sleep.

It’s Christmas, you’re in Haechan’s arms, wearing matching pajamas, and your hearts are beating as one. Today will be another long day, but you’re confident it will be amazing, and what’s left of your fears won’t eat you up. They don’t matter, the past doesn’t matter, there’s only one thing that matters now.

There are only three rules left: be alive, love, and be loved.

general taglist: @froggyforyoongi , @wingsss45 ; @tddyhyck ; @technologyculturedneo ; @yellowgirllsblog

hits different taglist: @adorejaehyn ; @matchahyuck ; @jjhmk ; @ourbeautifulaffair ; @what-the-jams : @oleoleniall ; @kundann ; @bbagu ; @ismileeprnc-responder ; @produmads ; @zkdlllin ; @yesohhsehun ; @aliceinwhateverland ; @strangevante

taglist with some people that interacted under HD (i hope this doesn’t bother you, just thought you might’ve liked being tagged since you showed love to the first one): @rjtulips ; @lmnhead ; @girlwholoveslpreppyattire ; @lovingvoidgoatee ; @brownsugarbaybee ; @canknot ; @adollsblog ; @ch1llkill ; @bacons-thighs ; @emptynote ; @addyanm ; @marklovexs ; @softieehcficrecs ; @brightestmark ; @jyanigoth ; @haechskies ; @rum-gone-why ; @melloworm ; @cheolctrl ; @taegr0wls ; @onlyseokmins ; @xtrataerrestrial ; @222brainrot ; @johnny-sassville ; @ujisworld ; @cup1dton ; @21497s ; @slushhie ; @sakamoto-hey ; @uyukyeom

taglist with people that interacted with the post: @harrypinks ; cont in comments

© neowinestaindress; all rights reserved. do NOT repost, modify, or translate any work from this blog on any other platform and claim it as yours. you can find my works on ao3 (neowinestaindress) and wattpad (winestaintedress_; currently inactive).

#nct fanfiction #haechan smut #lee haechan smut #haechan fluff #lee haechan fluff #haechan hard hours #haechan scenarios #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut

480 notes · View notes

halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

Note

Congrats on 5k! For the request thing— what about Price, doing some wedding/engagement ring shopping? He wants something special, and something perfect! I think some of the other boys would like to propose with a family ring, but he REALLY wants something nice for his lover, even if she'd be happy with something small and simple.

Give that man extra grey hairs trying to choose between tiny, miniscule details that only a trained jeweler would notice.

—The Perfect One

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [He stares at the rings under the glass with an acute narrowness to his eyes. He inspects every one as if a bomb might go off at any second, not missing a single detail in the metal.] ❞

The Captain’s lips thinned and once more the Jeweler’s face fell with an inward sigh of disappointment.

“Next,” John places the ring back down to the glass counter, the rows and rows of engagement bands inside lit up by background lighting.

“Sir, it’s nearly closing time. I don’t think you’re going to find one today—” Blue eyes stare and don’t blink at the man behind the counter; with nearly three solid seconds of eye-to-eye contact.

The Jeweler clears his throat.

“L…Let me go check in the back.” John grunts and the man scurries out of sight after locking up the previous ring.

They just weren’t right, the Captain admits as he sighs long and rubs a hand over his beard, scratching at his cheek. Some rings were too simple, others too gaudy or far too intricate—there had to be that perfect medium somewhere.

But hell, this was the last jeweler in the city. John scowls at himself; glaring down at the glass and at the hundreds of options inside; all having been taken out and inspected as if they were bombs out in the field. The epitome of no stone left unturned. No man left behind.

No ring left behind.

“Bloody fuckin’...” The Captain trails off, harshly grunting his anger.

If you could see the blatant annoyance in John’s eyes, you’d laugh and take him by the face, kissing his chin before speaking about blood pressure. As if he wasn’t constantly one bullet away from getting his brains shot out of his skull.

It was the thought that counted.

The man closes his small eyes and tilts his head to the side, fingers tapping the counter once.

He just…he wanted it to be everything you would want. All he needed was a plain band, truth be told, but for you, he wanted that ring to show everything that you’d been through together. The good and the bad—past and future. An even mix of love and devotion swathed around your finger to join you both in a promise you’d already been keeping for years.

And none of these blasted bits of metal and stone were good enough.

“If I’d of known it’d be this much trouble,” John grumbles, looking outside at the steadily darkening sky. “I would have just made my own, yeah?”

But it was too late to change career paths, God forbid.

Yet the man really wonders if it’s the ring that’s bothering him or the fact that he’s nervous to finally bend a knee. He knows he shouldn’t be, rationally there’s little chance you’d refuse—this wasn’t exactly a new relationship by any means. You’d both taken your time with things over the course of years.

This was just a matter of when and not if.

Still, the sink in his gut didn’t let up.

“Here,” the Jeweler returns and John snaps back to the shop, moving away his clenched hands from the counter to fold them over his chest as the man brings over a small jewelry box made of reddish wood. “This is it—after you go through that,” he splays his hands in defeat and sends a painful glance John’s way. “You’ve fully gone through my entire stock. Had to dig through all of my displays to find it.”

“What’s wrong with them?” The Captain asks in curiosity, his deep accent pushing through as he grabs and opens the box with two hands—firm and not really hoping for much.

“Nothing!” The Jeweler exclaims, mildly offended. “They’re old pieces—antiques. They don’t match the rest of the designs I have out.” He blinks, thinking hard before he puffs out, saying, “They’ll cost you extra!”

John slides an unimpressed glance upward and frowns, but the rings in the box do more than he expected them to.

He blinks, slightly taken aback.

There were only two in there, swathed by their precious sides in deep navy blue silk to hold them up. The glint of gold and platinum makes John’s breath still as the Jeweler begins talking about the ring that the Captain then takes out carefully.

“Circa 1940, the mixture of gold and platinum makes a unique and yet beautiful mix of class and antiquity with this piece. I would call it Victorian in style, judging by the detail around the raw gemstone—diamond, by the way. The ring is both simple but utterly striking when you look at the finer details, Sir.”

John ignores him, large fingers delicately bringing the object closer to his eye and moving it this way and that. He even goes far enough as to place it on the counter and take a step back to gaze at it from a distance, his eyes narrowed and wrinkles pulled in.

It was stunning. But, above all…it reminded John of you.

The Captain’s lips twitch for a moment, his tension slowly dripping out of him like water.

It made him huff a chuckle, but the Jeweler had been right about this one—the ring was simple, but the deeper intricacies of carved metal built it up to a point of elegance. A reverence and dedication to the craft.

Dedication.

John slowly hums to himself, going back and picking the ring up another time. It sits in his palm, such a little thing, but, oh, so heavy. It wasn’t a shackling weight, no—it was the deep press of purpose.

John closes his hand.

“How much?”

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @waves-against-a-cliff, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

915 notes · View notes

chaos-in-deepspace · 6 months ago

Text

L&DS Rafayel: Mischievous Pandas | 18+

Damn imagine me finally writing this after it's been a solid week since Zayne's part...maybe longer I dunno. My wrists were killing me and I took a break and now they're better and primed for me to destroy them again! Enjoy this fic tho guys XOXO

♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Pairings: Rafayel x Reader ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Warnings: Unsafe Sex, Teasing, Dry Humping, Creampie ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Synopsis: Rafayel was always willing to go along with your small whims. When you offered him a panda outfit, telling him how much fun it would be to match, he obviously said yes. Little did he know the mischievousness it would bring. ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Word Count: 5k~

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Rafayel

Mischievous Pandas

“You know, I’m thinking perhaps I should paint a bamboo forest under the sea now that I’m wearing this.” You could hear Rafayel’s voice call out of the bathroom. You were already comfortable in bed as you glanced over, wondering when your man was finally going to leave the bathroom.

Low and behold, Rafayel finally came out of the bathroom clad in a beautiful panda outfit that happened to be a perfect match to your own. You had seen them in a shop recently and found them so ridiculous that you bought two of them so you guys could be matching. Rafayel was always one to go along with your random whims and agreed readily when you asked him to put it on for you.

You sat up in the bed, looking him over with a broad smile, “Well aren’t you just the cutest lil thing.” You teased with a small chuckle escaping you. Rafayel’s cheeks went a bit red, but other than that seemed to be unaffected by your words. He walked over to the bed, leaning down with his hands on either side of you.

“Shouldn’t that be my line?” He shot right back at you with a flirtatious smirk. You giggled as you cupped his cheeks, giving them a small squeeze until he flinched back and felt his face as though you had just smacked him, “I didn’t realize Pandas were known for violence.”

“Pandas are very vicious creatures, Raffie. We are still bears.” That was a lie and everyone knew it. You had watched videos on pandas recently and honestly it was a miracle the species was able to ever survive outside of captivity.

“I’m sure they are.” Rafayel teased as he looked you over, “I must say though, I didn’t expect to see my bodyguard wearing something like this. I thought you preferred more tactical apparel.” He went on.

“This is as tactical as it comes. It’s baggy enough that you’d never be able to see the full body chainmail underneath, or the several weapons I have. I look innocent.” You huffed and Rafayel’s eyes went over your body with a satisfied hum.

“Full body chainmail, my that’s fancy. Where’d you manage to get that?” Rafayel said, finally crawling on the bed to join you. His hand went over to you, pulling you closer to him so he could cuddle up with you. It was his favorite way of spending his evenings with you, and you were never one to complain when it came to being pressed up against him.

“Oh you know, I used your credit card and bought it off the black market. The usual shindig.” You explained nonchalantly as you adjusted yourself in his grasp. You got comfortable in his arms and rested your head on his bicep. As soon as you said this Rafayel gave a shocked gasp, pushing you away from him dramatically.

“You used my card and didn’t even purchase one for me?” He said, a playful pout on his lips.

“You don’t need chainmail if I’m protecting you, Mr Artsy Panda.” You said as you tried getting close to him. Rafayel scooched away from you for a moment and you chuckled, crawling closer. He kept trying to get away after noticing the glint in your eyes. So much so that he didn’t realize when he was on the edge of the bed until he fell back.

There was a small crash and a grunt and you paused, eyes wide as you processed. Then you broke out into a fit of giggles, curling in on yourself as you looked down at Rafayel. The man was pouting at you from his spot on the floor, “You can’t even protect me from the floor.” He whined.

“Oh don’t be so dramatic. If you weren’t so desperate to escape your loving partner this would’ve never happened. Now get back up here.” You said, looking down at the bed. He looked absolutely hilarious and your shoulders were still shaking from your laughter.

“I dunno, I’m just a lazy panda. Not sure if I could manage to muster up the energy to get back up.” He said, holding his hand, “I think I might need my heroic bodyguard to help me.”

You shook your head at his dramatics and leaned over, holding your hand out to him. This was a mistake on your part, one you should've seen coming. As soon as his hand took yours, he dragged you down to the floor with him. You collided with his chest, the blanket around your waist tangling your legs and trapping you against him.

“Much better.” Rafayel said as he looked at the angry pout on your face. He cupped your cheek and placed a small kiss on your forehead, “Now we’re both stuck here.”

“I would like a refund. I want to be on the bed.” You said as you began untangling yourself from the man. Rafayel wasn't having any of it, wrapping his arms around you and trapping you properly this time. “Raaaaaaf.” You groaned, hitting his chest.

“You don’t need to go up there, we have a bed right here. We have pillows and blankets.” Rafayel explained and you looked at him with a confused expression.

“We got a blanket but I ain’t seein no pillows, bro.” You huffed. That was when Rafayel switched positions, forcing you onto your back as he laid his head on your chest.

“Yes we do.” He said, nuzzling his face into you.

You pushed on his forehead, whining about him being heavy for a moment before realizing he had really trapped you. You looked up at the ceiling, opting to just run your fingers through his hair as he relaxed onto your body. You felt his grip slackening as you cuddled with him on the floor, his guard slowly slipping.

As soon as the man of your dreams, the one you loved and adored, was relaxed against you, you kneed him in the stomach just enough to get him to grunt and roll off you. You laughed as you jumped back onto the bed, scooching away and curling under one of the other many blankets there, “Gotcha!” You called out in triumph at escaping him.

“Did you just knee me?” Rafayel said, his head popping up at the edge of the bed as he looked at you, “Aren’t you supposed to be protecting me?”

“See I consider that a 9-5 kinda gig, and at the moment it is very much almost midnight. Which reminds me, we should be sleeping.” You said as you pat the bed next to you, coaxing Rafayel to join you properly. The artist let out a huff as he crawled onto the bed, getting under the covers and in position for the night.

“You’re cruel.” He huffed, his back now turned to you as he pouted. You chuckled, looking at Rafayel in his panda outfit, sulking over you attacking him. How a fully grown man could be as cute as him was one of the many wonders of the world.

At seeing him sulking you couldn’t help but scooch up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and nuzzling the back of his neck, “Raaaaf.” You said to him in a sweet voice, “Come on, let’s cuddle.”

“I refuse to cuddle with someone who thinks kicking me is the proper response to escaping a cuddle session. Far too dangerous.” He said and you placed a small kiss on the back of his neck.

“Come on, my cute fishie, you can’t stay mad at me all night.” You continued coaxing him in that saccharine voice, wondering how long it would take him to finally give in tonight. You could see his shoulders relaxing a bit in your grasp.

It took a few minutes before he began shifting. You backed up enough for him to roll over so he was facing you. He still had a pout, but now his cheeks and ears were red, “Roll over. You’re the little spoon tonight. I don’t want those knees anywhere near me.” He said and you rolled your eyes playfully.

Still, you did as requested and rolled over onto your side. His arms now wrapped around you as he nuzzled his face into your hair. After a moment he spoke, “Did you steal my shampoo?” He murmured sleepily.

“Judging by how your bathroom only has your products at the moment, yes.” You replied, relaxing into the mattress and his grip.

You heard him huff in amusement before his lips were pressed on the back of your neck, “I guess I don’t mind you smelling like me.” He concluded as he then placed another kiss. You couldn’t help but playfully elbow him and his hands tensed for a moment. You yelped, feeling him nip at your neck, it still being one of the few areas exposed in your large panda outfit.

“Behave.” He warned, his fingers twitching and you gasped for a moment, feeling them on you. You looked back at him, not getting a good glimpse of his face with your current angle.

“Or what?”

They were fighting words, everyone knew it. That alongside ‘Make me’ would always result in something happening. So when Rafayel’s hands began wandering your sides, tickling you, you knew you were in deep shit.

Your laughter began enveloping the room, your cheeks flushed as you tried gasping for breath between his onslaught. He knew every single part of your body that would cause you to giggle and he abused the hell out of them. Your chest hurt as you tried slapping his hands away, “E-e-enoooough hah!” You cried out, trying to get air into your lungs.

After Rafayel noticed that you were literally wheezing and gasping for air, he let you go. You greedily sucked in air as you turned to him, this time you were the one pouting as you looked at him, “E-evil…” You murmured.

Rafayel just flashes you a grin before stretching and letting out a yawn, “It’s payback, my pearl.” He shrugged it off, “Now are we actually going to cuddle and go to bed for real this time?”

“I was ready to go to bed like an hour ago, Raf.” You said, laying back down on your back as you looked at him with a soft smile. Rafayel leaned in, placing a quick kiss on your lips before going to undo his overalls. You gave him a confused look, placing your hand on him and stopping him, “What are you doing?”

“Taking these off?” Rafayel said, curious as to what you were getting upset about, “I don’t mean to alarm you but it’s kind of humid tonight.”

“You dare take off the panda outfit?” You asked, almost scandalized by the sheer thought. Sure it was very humid and you could feel the sweat forming underneath your own pajamas, but you two were just too cute to simply take them off right now.

Rafayel gave you a deadpan stare before speaking, “Do you want me to die from overheating tonight?”

“You’re being dramatic, Raffie. You’re not gonna die.” You huffed, rolling back over to your side to get ready to finally get some sleep.

“I’m not being dramatic.” He said, already getting back into his previous position as well with spooning you. With his added body heat the room was getting a bit warmer than you would’ve liked. Perhaps these were better catered towards the winter months, but your stubbornness wasn't going to let you give up. “The panda outfit stays on in bed.” You finalize with him.

This got a small huff out of Rafayel, and you could feel him now cuddled up against your back. He smirked against you and you were about to ask what was up when he spoke, “So that’s the new rule?”

“It’s a hard rule.” You murmured, closing your eyes as you decided you’d just attempt to sleep rather than entertain Rafayel. That was until you felt his hands wandering your hips and dragging your bottom half closer to his pelvis.

“You wanna know what else is hard, my pearl?” He cooed into your ear, rolling his hips and you could faintly feel his cock against your ass. You let out a small, surprised gasp at his clear challenge and you opened your eyes.

“Seriously, Raf?” You muttered this time, pressing your ass back against him without thinking; it was just a natural reaction for you at this point in your relationship.

“Too bad you won’t get to feel it. After all, we need to keep these things on in the bed.” Rafayel rolled his hips against you once more and you bit down on your lip as you tried ignoring the feeling. “What a shame.” His voice came out huskier as he whispered in your ear, nipping you in the process.

The several layers between the two of you was certainly something that you realized would be an annoyance. You hated that your body was already reacting to him, getting slick between the thighs as he continued rolling himself against your ass, grinding his clothed cock against you. Memories of what it felt like inside of you began plaguing your mind.

“Raf…” You warned and he chuckled again, his breath tickling the nape of your neck.

“I’m simply abiding by your rules.” He reminded you. He trailed his hand down to the front of your pajamas, cupping your cunt and you let out a small moan as he pressed the fabric against you, your underwear soaking in your juices as you realized just how wet he was getting you from the teasing.

He continued this motion, pressing and rubbing you through your clothes as he rubbed himself against your ass. It wasn’t nearly enough and he knew this all too well as he continued, entertained to see how you’d react to this. You bit your lip as you tried not to let out a whimper; you felt his lips pressing wet kisses along the exposed skin there. You finally opened your eyes and tried to look at him.

“Turn around.” He murmured as he noticed you trying to roll over. You did as he said and as soon as you were facing him, he grabbed you by your hips and rolled you so you were now straddling his lap. He laid prettily under you, looking up with flushed cheeks and a knowing smirk.

“Are you certain we need to keep these on?” He teased as he rolled his hips up into you. You gasped and placed your hands on his chest, cursing the fact that you couldn’t feel his skin at that moment. You were pouting as you looked at him, flustered and horny.

“You’re unfair.” You finally said, grinding down on him to get some much needed friction. You could barely feel him and it frustrated you to no end. The pajamas you thought were cute were now an eyesore when you knew what laid beneath them.

Rafayel’s teasing laugh turned into a groan as he began rolling up to meet your grinding, keeping a nice cadence before panting out your name. You closed your eyes, imagining what it would feel like to be riding him at this moment, how good his cock would make you feel as you came several times on his lap.

“You look ridiculous right now.” You decided to say, looking down at him. You could see Rafayel’s face turn into a pout immediately as he looked up at you.

“And I’m currently trying my best to stay hard, but it’s a bit difficult when there’s a panda on top of you.” He huffed, his hands going to your hips and gripping them. If not for the fabric, you were certain it would leave bruises for tomorrow.

You rolled your eyes, “You’re the worst.” You muttered and took your hand, gliding it up. Thankfully the overalls were broken when you purchased them, so he only had one strap on. You went to unclasp it so you could take it off, but you got interrupted when his hand grabbed your own.

“Changing the rules?” He asked, raising his eyebrow, “Don’t you think that’s a bit naughty to do so for your own selfish reasons?”

“It’s not selfish if someone else gets off as well.” You muttered and he smirked, “Besides I’m only doing this since you’re a cheater.” Now he laughed as he took his hand away from you.

“Well then go ahead and strip this cheater bare, my little panda pearl.” He said and you groaned in annoyance at the stupid nickname. Still, you undid the clasp and let it fall. He helped assist you in stripping it off his body, lifting his hips up and soon you were tossing them off the bed. Your hands went down his chest, tugging at the hoodie next.

Rafayel sat up, grabbing the end of the hoodie and ripping it off in one motion, tossing it to join the other fabric on the ground. Then his hands went to you, unclasping your own overalls and motioning for you to lift your hips and knees when needed until he could take it off. You were left in the hoodie and underwear, while Rafayel only had his underwear on. You looked down briefly to notice the wet patch on his underwear right where his cock head was.

“Oh, you were having trouble staying hard you say?” You teased, your hand going down to press on his erection, loving how he rolled his hips against your hand without thinking about it. The sudden contact was doing things to you both as he looked you up and down. Your hands were all over his chest, enjoying the plains and valleys that were his muscles, your fingers gently grazing over his nipples and he let out a small gasp.

“If I focused on your face it wasn’t bad.” Rafayel said, his hands going to rest on your exposed thighs as he gave them a firm squeeze, “Now, my conch, will you do me the honors of riding me?” He asked, basically fluttering his eyelashes at you.

“Ya, hang on, Raf.” You say, going to take off your own hoodie when he stops your hands. The thing was oversized on you and was actually able to cover your modesty, but for some reason Rafayel could only lick his lips when he looked your body over.

“Keep it on, it’s kinda cute on you.” He said and you huffed. You sat back down on his lap, the only thing separating you were two small pieces of fabric now. You could feel his cock twitching underneath you as you rolled your hips. The dry humping now was way more pleasurable as you continued this for a minute, almost getting lost in the sensation. You could probably cum like this if you really tried.

Rafayel let out a hiss though, the stimulation being good but not enough; it wasn’t what he was planning. Still his hips thrusted up against your clothed mound, wanting to feel your heat closer to him.

You decided to let out a loud, playful moan as you looked down at him, pressing his chest down so he was laying back down on the bed, “You feel pretty good as is, Raffie. Perhaps I’ll use you like this until I cum.” You said with a teasing glint in your eyes.

“You know, I bet I’d feel even better if I were inside you, what do you think?” Despite the teasing tone that Rafayel had, his cheeks and chest were flushed with a scarlet blushed as he looked up at you, almost pleading. You smirked as your hands went to the waistband of his underwear, tugging it until you could take it off his hips.

Your hand wraps around his cock, thumb swiping over the wet tip as you slide his pre cum over his shaft. He’s hot and heavy in your hands and you admire him like he were a piece of art, his cock twitching as you admired him. “Raf, your cock is so pretty.” You murmured, licking your lips as the thought of it being slid down your throat.

Rafayel’s blush got deeper as he looked away from you with a huff, “Might as well take a picture, it’ll last you longer.”

You paused for a moment, cock still in hand as you looked between it and the owner, “Wait…can I?” damn with how pretty he is, you’d be down to put it as your lock screen. God forbid anyone try to open your phone.

Rafayel now took a few seconds before responding with a simple “No.”

Your small huff of annoyance was enough to get him to look back at you. You were sliding your underwear off your hips and tossing them off to the side. Your legs straddling him as you took his cock back into your hand, lining him up with your dripping cunt.

You slowly began sinking down on his length, groaning as you felt his cock stretching you out perfectly. He wasn’t too thick, but he had a good amount of length to him that always reached into your deepest parts. Rafayel’s hands went to your thighs, gripping them as he watched his cock disappear inside of you.

Once you were fully seated, you rocked your hips gently against Rafayel as you got used to accommodating his length. Rafayel let out a breathy moan, staring up at you with his mouth hanging open slightly. His voice music to your ears as you rolled your hips again, loving how you could feel him twitching inside you.

At your teasing, Rafayel thrusted up in you, making you cry out at the suddenness of it all. Your hands finding purchase over his abs as you shot him a small glare, “Hey, no fair.” You said and Rafayel scoffed.

His grip on your thighs was tight as he managed to lift you up a bit before slamming you back down. Your small, surprised moan echoed in the room as you realized he had no intention of letting you have your way. He began a simple pace, fucking up into you and controlling your movements.

You were already turning into a broken, moaning mess as you looked down at him, trying to form a sentence, “N-no faaaaair.” You groaned out, “I thought I-I was in charge-fuck.” You cursed as he angled his hips just right. You closed your eyes, enjoying the sensation as he used you like a little toy, bouncing eagerly on him.

“If you want to be on top, you need to make sure you’re doing it right.” He scolded, his thrusting getting harsher until he stopped suddenly, settling you on his lap. You took a moment to catch his breath, the tight coil that was forming now ebbing away as you looked down at him.

“Why’d you stop?” You said after a moment and he smirked.

“You’re on top tonight…weren’t you just complaining about that?” He said, tilting his head as he sat up and rested his back on the pillows; his cock shifting in you with the small movement. You groaned, leaning forward on his lap until you were chest to chest, your face a few inches apart from one another.

“You’re the worst.” You said, leaving a teasing nip at his jaw as you began riding him; you lifted your hips and tried finding the pace and angle he had been fucking you at before. You let out a frustrated groan, not being able to get it just right like he had managed. Your arms wrapped around Rafayel’s shoulders, one hand playing in his hair as you tugged him forward.

Your small annoyed whimpers seemed deafening in the room, adding to the chorus of the wet skin-on-skin slapping. Rafayel seemed to get what you wanted, moving forward just enough to capture your lips in a searing kiss. His kisses were always full of heat, nibbling on your lower lip so he could ease his tongue into you.

He groaned at your taste, his tongue entangled with your own as he easily took control of the passionate liplock. He noticed as you closed your eyes, savoring the kiss that you had stopped riding him, opting to just roll your hips against him as you tried to at least keep up some friction.

You swallowed Rafayel’s groan and soon his hands were on the bottom of your thighs, closest to your ass. He easily lifted you up until his cock was barely inside you, before slamming you down. You gasped into the kiss, his lips never leaving yours as he began guiding your movements again.

“S-so good.” You cried out against his mouth, looking down to see his cock going in and out of you. The warm coiling sensation began again and you knew you wouldn’t last very long at this pace. Not with how good he was making you feel with every thrust up into your cunt.

He adjusted you in his lap until his cock managed to hit that spot inside of you that had you seeing stars. “Raf, fuck, right there.” You cried out, nails digging into his shoulders as you pressed your forehead against his own. Your eyes were squeezed shut, the sensations being too much yet not enough all at the same time.

Rafayel hisses at feeling your nails and he lets out a small chuckle, “Take it easy, love.” He said, feeling close to his own high. His cock was being squeezed so deliciously by your warmth that it was hard for him to think clearly.

“S-sorry.” You said, although the apology was half hearted. You began peppering kisses along his jaw and neck, a silent way of repenting for scratching the hell out of him. He chuckled as he used his shoulder to shrug your head off him so he could see you.

“My pearl, think you could play with your clit while I fuck you?” He asked, his lips brushing against yours. You let out another whimper, nodding your head. You took one of your hands and placed it between your legs. It was pressed between your two bodies but you had enough room for your fingers to graze against your swollen clit.

“Doing so good, sweetheart, just a little more.” Rafayel praised, feeling how your walls were quivering with your impending release. He began thrusting harder, faster, wanting to bring you toppling over the edge at the same time as him.

“C-close R-raaah-f.” You moaned, pinching your clit between your fingers then rubbing it in circles. The feeling of his cock stretching you at the new pace was driving you insane. You were about to cum, the pleasure overwhelming.

“Close too, baby.” Rafayel groaned, his cock twitching and leaking profusely inside you, “Can I cum inside?” Despite how close he was he still had to check.

“Gods, please.” You said and then gasped. The coil in you snapped at that moment, your walls clenching over his length as you rode out your orgasm. Everything inside of you felt like it was a gentle fire, your limbs tingling and your head fuzzy. You didn't realize you had thrown your head back, your mouth open as you let out whimpers of pleasure.

Feeling you squeezing his cock like a vice, Rafayel groaned. His warm seed began spilling inside of you, your name spilling from his lips like a prayer. All too soon you felt your high slowly going away as you slumped against Rafayel. You nuzzled into his neck, clutching onto him as you ground yourself once more.

You didn’t realize how out of breath you were until you noticed how you were panting. Rafayel was rubbing soothing circles on your back. His warm hands under your hoodie as he helped you come back to him.

You two stayed like this for a while, enjoying the comfortable silence. That was until you realized just how uncomfortable the aftermath felt.

Not only was it humid, but you two had worked up a sweat. Alongside the mess dripping from between your legs onto Rafayel’s lap…you guys needed to clean up.

“Raf…” You mumbled and the man below you just hummed. His hands paused for a moment as he adjusted himself so he could look at you, “We need to clean up. I feel sticky.”

Rafayel laughed at your observation as he kissed the side of your neck, “Ya, ya, we can take a bath in a few minutes. Lemme relax a bit more. That was a workout, you know.” He muttered. You playfully smacked his chest as you adjusted in his grip. His softening cock still in you made you wince from the sensitivity.

“If that took it out of you, we might need to hit the gym together.” You said, watching as Rafayel’s hands were now roaming your body. He began tugging at the hoodie, clearly wanting to take it off.

“We don’t need to take drastic measures.” He said as he helped lift you off his cock. Your combined fluids now flowed out onto him. You tried closing your thighs, letting out an embarrassed yelp

“No need to be shy.” Rafayel urged as he sat you down on his stomach. He leaned back again and stared up at you, “It’s just the aftermath of our love.” He teased.

You huffed before realizing something. A small laugh escaped you as you looked down, “You know…” You went to tug at the hoodie you wore, “Technically one of us did keep the panda outfit on in bed.”

“Really?” He groaned, “That’s what you have to say after all that?”

You shrugged in response and Rafayel clicked his tongue, “You’re something else.”

“Be that as it may, you still love me.” You said with a soft smile, your hand resting on his cheek, gently caressing it.

Rafayel huffed “Ya, I guess I do.”

Aha gg hope y'all enjoyed this one! Probably my favorite one to write out of all three boys tbh.

#loveanddeepspace #love and deepspace #Rafayel Love and Deepspace #Lnds #Lnds Rafayel #lnds x reader #x reader #reader insert #rafayel x reader #l&ds #l&ds rafayel #l&ds rafayel x reader #lads x reader #lads rafayel #lads rafayel x reader

174 notes · View notes

redvexillum · 2 months ago

Text

My momma always told me, you either leave the fandom or stay long enough to write a selfcest fanfiction of a character. She was right. All joking aside...I...I'm actually sort of proud of how this one turned out? If ya'll can give this crack request story a chance, I would appreciate it.

TAGS/WARNINGS: selfc♡st, fr♡ttage, mild dub-c♡n, an♡l s♡x, ♡ral s♡x, character study, mild hurt/comfort, m♡sturbation(?)

WORD COUNT: 5K~

Lucifer stared at his reflection – or, well, the figure that was almost his reflection. It was unnerving, seeing himself like that, a perfect replica, standing there as casually as if he belonged. He had been tinkering with one of his many bizarre contraptions – this one, an overly complicated machine designed to spit out custom-dressed rubber ducks because, why not?

But after one too many turns of doodads and doohickeys, what had emerged wasn’t a novelty toy, but him. A carbon copy. And now, that copy was glaring back at him, looking far less impressed.

“So...do I kill you, or do you kill me?” the clone drawled, eyes narrowing in irritation. His voice dripped with impatience, as if this situation was nothing more than a tedious inconvenience.

Lucifer raised his hands, laughing nervously. “Woah, woah! Hold up!” He tugged at the lapels of his jacket, his chin jutting forward proudly. “First off, I am the original,” he declared, head held high. “So, if anyone’s doing the killing here–”

Suddenly, a sharp, searing pain knifed through his gut. He doubled over, gasping, his hands instinctively clutching his abdomen. “Oh, fuck me!” he rasped, struggling to catch his breath. “Why do I feel like I’m about to both combust and take the world’s biggest shit at the same time?!”

The clone snorted, unimpressed. Rolling his eyes, he lazily rested a hand on the apple-topped staff at his side. “Isn’t it obvious?” he said with a tone of smugness, leaning against the staff like he was lounging on a park bench. “Only one of us can exist on this plane at a time,”

Lucifer grimaced, his vision blurred by pain, as he glared up at his double. “Oh, that’s fucking helpful!” he barked, breathless. “How the hell was I supposed to know that?!”

“Well,” the clone continued, ignoring Lucifer’s frustration, “I think we both know what has to happen.” There was a calmness in his voice, a decision made. Slowly, methodically, he began to shrug off his outer coat. “We need to–”

“Kill,” Lucifer groaned.

“Fuck,” the clone corrected.

Lucifer wheezed, his entire body feeling like it was deflating. His mouth twisted into a forced smile, desperate for clarity. “Okay, okay, wait.” He chuckled weakly, rubbing his forehead. “When you say fuck...do you mean like, fuck as in kill, or...?” His voice trailed off as he glanced nervously at his copy.

The grin that spread across the clone’s face was infuriatingly familiar – the same cocky smirk Lucifer hadn’t seen on his own face in years. It was unsettling how confidently his reflection seemed to own the moment. “No, no,” the clone said, voice dropping to a silky tone. “We are going to have the best sex of our life.”

Without hesitation, the clone threw his top aside, his bare chest gleaming under the dim lighting as it hit the floor with a soft thud. Lucifer stared, wide-eyed, torn between disbelief and the undeniable, absurd pull of the moment.

“Y-you don’t find this weird?” Lucifer stammered, stepping back slightly, his spine still curled inward, his stomach churning with a discomfort he hadn’t felt in eons. His heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing to make sense of what was happening. Sexual gratification had been the furthest thing from his mind ever since...ever since Lilith had left.

Left him.

Left Charlie.

The void she left behind still gnawed at him, hollow and aching.

His clone, though identical in appearance, stood with an unsettling confidence – shoulders back, head high, eyes blazing with the kind of self-assurance Lucifer hadn’t felt in what seemed like a lifetime ago. He looked...powerful. Like the Lucifer of old, the one who once stood in Heaven, who knew without a doubt that the world was his, who believed in his bones that anything he desired was within his grasp. Seeing this version of himself now was both infuriating and intoxicating.

“Listen,” the clone purred, his red pupils glittering with amusement. “This is basically masturbation.” His voice was silk, laced with cruel teasing. “Which I’m sure we’re very familiar with, considering that’s all you’ve been doing ever since our sweet, lovely wife left us.”

Heat exploded across Lucifer’s cheeks; a hot, embarrassed flush that made him grit his teeth. “Hey!” he snapped, but his protest died in his throat. He couldn’t deny it. Hell, this was a conversation about himself, after all – his clone knew everything about him, every dark, shameful secret.

The clone straightened up, his smirk deepening. “Right now, our soul is split in two. It’s warring with itself because this–” he gestured grandly down his body. “–is unnatural. Souls aren’t meant to be divided like this.”

Lucifer’s shoulders slumped, the weight of his clone’s words pressing down on him. His fingers fidgeted with the smooth surface of his staff, his mind trying to latch onto anything other than the situation before him. “So...you thought the solution was to fuck until our souls...merged?” His voice cracked, half-disbelieving, half-hopeful.

“Bingo!” The clone chuckled, his grin only growing as he began to undo the button of his pants with casual confidence. “Besides,” he added with a mischievous glint in his eye, “if it doesn’t work, at least we’ll both get to reach the heavens.” His eyebrows waggled suggestively, and his forked tongue flicked out from his lips in a teasing gesture.

Lucifer grimaced, his stomach tightening with nerves. His eyes darted involuntarily over his clone’s body, and suddenly, he became painfully aware of his own form. It had been centuries since he had looked at himself bare – really looked. The sight of his clone now, so perfectly him and yet not, was jarring in a way that twisted his insides.

“Ugh, that’s...that’s...,” Lucifer muttered, his gaze shifting awkwardly. His self-consciousness gnawed at him, a raw vulnerability that was difficult to swallow.

“Hey, don’t act so shy now,” the clone cooed, his voice dripping with a smugness that Lucifer hated to recognize in himself. “That’s the same line we used on Lilith when we first made love to her.” With a single fluid motion, the clone let his pants drop, his cock hanging uncut and unaroused, swaying with a casual confidence that only heightened Lucifer’s unease.

“Woah, woah, hey, now!” Lucifer blurted, stepping back, his eyes flicking between his clone’s cock and the infuriatingly cocky grin on his face. “Again, how exactly is fucking supposed to merge our souls back together?”

His clone shrugged, taking a step forward, completely unbothered. “I dunno,” he said with an exaggerated nonchalance. “Maybe when we both reach ecstasy, our souls will resonate, vibrate, and then, bam, they’ll fuse back together. After all,” he added with a theatrical sweep of his arms, “God did give us these bodies for a reason. Pleasure, procreation – this is the ultimate gift to humanity! To enjoy and, of course, multiply!”

The clone’s voice was all show, his arms raised dramatically like some kind of divine preacher. But there was a glimmer in his eyes – something dark, something knowing – that made Lucifer’s skin prickle with an undeniable mix of dread and curiosity.

Lucifer frowned, his brows knitting together, confused. Something about the situation – about the words his clone had said – felt off. Deep down, a nagging sense of dread tugged at him, though he couldn’t quite place why. Before he could puzzle it out, he jolted at the sudden warmth of his cheek.

His eyes darted up, meeting his own reflection. But it wasn’t just the unnerving intimacy of having his clone caress his face – it was the startling realization that the twisting pain in his gut had vanished, as if it had never been there at all.

“Looks like I might be onto something,” his clone murmured, fingers already deftly working at Lucifer’s bow tie, loosening it with ease. Then came the buttons, each one undone with deliberate slowness.

“W-wait,” Lucifer stammered, a surge of awkwardness and outright discomfort pounding in his chest. This wasn’t right – none of this was right. But when his clone’s fingers brushed against the bare skin of his chest, Lucifer felt a jolt – his nerves sparking with an odd, pleasant warmth that made his breath hitch.

“Oh, fuck. What the fuck is happening?” Lucifer gasped, his body betraying him. There was a strange sense of completeness now, as though the fractures within him, the things that had felt so wrong and broken, were beginning to knit back together.

“Told you so,” the clone said, smirking with that insufferably cocky tilt of his brow. His lips curved upward in a grin that made Lucifer’s stomach turned with unease. “Now, let’s get this show started.”

Lucifer stood there, frozen, watching as his replica continued to undress, each piece of clothing discarded methodically. The pants came off easily, unbuttoned and unzipped in a single fluid motion before being kicked aside.

Now, they stood face to face, naked and exposed, and for a moment, it was like staring into a mirror. Every inch of his clone’s body was a perfect reflection of his own – yet, it was the confidence, the smugness in the clone’s posture that set them worlds apart.

“L-listen,” Lucifer mumbled, his shoulders tensing as they rose toward his ears. He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the lump of unease forming in his throat. “C-could you, I don’t know, shape-shift into someone else? Maybe it’d be easier to...ya know,” he trailed off, awkwardly circling his hand as his eyes flicked down to his own limp cock and them back to his clone’s. “And, uh, can I top? Not that I can’t take it, but I just...I prefer–”

His clone let out a heavy sigh, cocking his head to the side as if he were disappointed by Lucifer’s hesitation. “You seriously don’t feel it?” he asked, his voice dripping with impatience.

Lucifer blinked, confusion settling deeper into his mind. Slowly, he reached inward, trying to gather his magic, to summon that familiar surge of power – but nothing happened. His breath hitched in his throat, eyes widening in panic. “Holy fu–”

“Yep,” the clone interrupted, popping the “p” with a smug satisfaction. “You can’t access your magic. That’s because our soul is still split, dumbass.”

Lucifer’s heart raced, the weight of the situation settling heavily onto his shoulders. For the first time, he felt the gravity of what was happening. He wasn’t just losing control – he had lost it. The realization made his stomach churn, but there was no turning back now.

“Now that we’re on the same page about how serious this is,” the clone grinned, his teeth gleaming a pearly white that somehow made him appear even more unsettling. His expression was everything Lucifer wasn’t - confident, boisterous, and utterly sure of himself. It was a mockery of everything Lucifer had once been, and it made his skin crawl with unease. “Let’s fuck.”

Lucifer swallowed hard, staring into his clone’s eyes, feeling a sick sense of inevitability creeping up on him. He wasn’t sure if he could go through with this – or if he even had a choice anymore.

Lucifer lay on the bed, his body tense and awkward, his tail coiled tightly around his left leg like a lifeline, a small attempt at self-soothing. He felt exposed – no, worse than that. He felt like a blushing virgin, vulnerable in a way he hadn’t been in millennia.

His hands instinctively covered his chest, as though that would somehow shield him from the surreal reality he was trapped in. His cock hung half-flaccid, a humiliating reminder of his physical reaction to something he desperately wished he didn’t want.

His clone’s hand drifted up and down Lucifer’s abdomen, knuckles brushing the sensitive skin just below his navel, occasionally grazing the tip of his cock. Each fleeting touch sent shivers up Lucifer’s spine, and despite the disgust and shame swirling inside him, he couldn’t stop his body from responding. His cock hardened, growing with each touch, betraying the war raging in his mind.

Lucifer squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it all out. Shame burned through him like acid. How had it come to this? He was fucking his own clone. What kind of pathetic, twisted man had he become?

What would Lilith say? The thought pierced through him like a dagger, and his heart clenched in pain. He could picture her now, her back turned to him, disgust etched into her face. She had always known his weakness, his flaws, but this – this was something else entirely. What would she think of him now?

What would Charlie think? His little girl – so full of light, so distant now. They barely spoke anymore. When they did, it was stilted, cold, and brief. She had left home centuries ago, and every passing year felt like another knife twisting in his gut. If she knew what he was doing right now, she wouldn’t just turn her back on him – she would hate him.

A wave of loneliness crashed over him, and Lucifer’s heart sank. If only Lilith were here, none of this would be happening. Maybe he wouldn’t be alone. Maybe he’d still have his family.

“Hey!” His clone’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Lucifer’s eyes flew open, his chest tightening in shock. His clone was holding his limp cock in his hand, its size reduced to something small, shrunken, and powerless. “Seriously?” the clone huffed in annoyance, dropping Lucifer’s cock as if it were nothing. “It’s like you don’t want to fix this.”

Lucifer blinked, startled by the casual frustration in his own voice. The clone collapsed beside him on the bed, his back hitting the mattress with a lazy thud, folding his hands behind his head. “Well, I guess both of us are just going to cease to exist then. Painfully, I might add.” He paused, glancing at Lucifer with a knowing smirk. “And we’ll be leaving our girl behind.”

Lucifer’s heart stopped for a moment. Then anger surged through him like a wildfire, scorching the shame and hesitation out of his chest. “Take that back,” he growled, sitting up, his fists clenching at his sides. “I’m going to be with my little girl for the rest of eternity.” He wanted to say that Charlie needed him, but deep down, he knew the truth – he needed her.

The clone fell silent, his cocky grin faltering for the first time. For a brief moment, something softened in his expression, the sharp edges of his usual bravado dulling. “I know,” he said quietly. And of course, he knew. He washim, after all. He understood that deep, aching loneliness better than anyone.

Lucifer’s breath caught; the room filled with an uncomfortable silence. He watched, still tense, as his clone snapped his fingers and slipped off the bed. Lucifer furrowed his brows, his eyes narrowing as he watched the bare backside of his clone exit the room. A strange sense of foreboding curled in his gut, but he couldn’t have guessed what was coming next.

When his clone reappeared, Lucifer’s eyes widened in sheer horror. “Oh, hell no!” he yelled, sitting up straight in the bed, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

His clone stood before him, draped in one of Lilith’s old purple dresses, the very sight of it sending a wave of nausea rolling through Lucifer. The dress – once regal and commanding on Lilith – was ill-fitting on his clone. It hung awkwardly off his frame, too long and dragging on the floor, with the chest sagging low enough to reveal his nipples. It was a mockery, and Lucifer couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“What?” his clone asked, dragging the hem of the dress along the ground as he clambered back onto the bed. Lucifer immediately crossed his arms over his chest, looking away, his face twisted in revulsion.

“Don’t be such a hypocrite,” the clone scoffed, rolling his eyes. “After Lilith left, you literally fucked your hand while smothering your face in her clothes.”

Lucifer’s breath hitched, his mind reeling. He could feel the humiliation crashing over him like a tidal wave. His clone knew everything. Every shameful, pathetic moment. And now, dressed in Lilith’s gown, his clone was dragging him through the mud, forcing him to confront his deepest shame.

It was too much, Lucifer clenched his jaw, trying to push back the flood of emotions rising inside him. But he couldn’t - because every word, every mocking gesture, was true.

Lucifer’s shoulders sagged, the weight of those words pressing down on him like a heavy fog. His eyes stung with the threat of tears, but he quickly blinked them away, unwilling to let them fall. It had been hard enough, those dark nights after Lilith had left without so much as a goodbye.

The days blurred into week, then months, until centuries have long gone by. Charlie had asked where her mother was, and Lucifer had found himself spinning hollow lies after lies. “She’s off doing important things,” he would say, his voice faltering. He never could come up with something more substantial – just the vague notion of “important” being all he had to offer.

And poor Charlie believed him, trusted her father’s words when Lucifer slowly sank into a dark spiral. The pain gnawed at him, and day by day, he closed off his heart to everything that once mattered. He had locked himself away, isolated, while his daughter’s belief in him, in them, lingered like an unbearable weight.

Lucifer shook his head, physically trying to shove those thoughts back down into the depths of his mind where they belonged. He couldn’t afford to think about that right now. He had to face what was in front of him – himself.“Alright, let’s just get this over with,” he muttered, his voice strained.

His clone cocked an eyebrow, smirking. “Geez, don’t sound too eager,” he mocked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “And here I went, dressing up nice and pretty for you.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes, the familiar sting of frustration bubbling up. “You’re such an ass.” He paused, realizing the irony – that all his insults were essentially directed at himself. His clone’s smirk only widened in response to Lucifer’s damning realization.

“Relax,” his clone sighed, the weight of the moment shifting as he leaned forward, the bed creaking beneath him. He straddled Lucifer’s hips, the long dress pooling awkwardly around them, one sleeve slipping off his shoulder in a parody of seduction. “Let’s just do what we always do.”

Lucifer swallowed hard, his throat tightening as he felt the warmth of his clone’s body settle on top of him. It was strange – unnerving – but grounding in a way. The warmth, the weight, it made it all feel too real.

His clone pressed his hard cock against Lucifer’s, and the contact sent a ripple of heat down his spine. A hand planted itself beside Lucifer’s head as his clone leaned down, his breath brushing his ear. “Close your eyes,” he whispered, and Lucifer listened, squeezing them shut.

A slow exhalation escaped him as he let his hands rest at his sides, the tension is his body slowly easing. He felt the blood pooling between his legs, rushing to his cock, filling him with a familiar heat he hadn’t felt in so long. His clone’s voice came again, softer this time. “Just focus on feeling good.”

Lucifer shivered as his clone’s hand wrapped around both their cocks, the sensation of their skin sliding together igniting something deep within him. He let out a shaky moan, his body betraying the shame that still clawed at the edges of his mind. It had been so long since he’d allowed himself to feel like this – to indulge in something that wasn’t soaked in guilt or regret.

This is just masturbation, he told himself, nothing more than that.

In the darkness behind his closed eyes, Lucifer focused on the feel of their bodies pressed together. The heat of his clone’s cock, the hard, throbbing shaft rubbing against his own. His clone moved slowly, gliding up and down, the sensitive ridges of their heads catching against each other in a way that made Lucifer’s breath hitch. Every touch, every movement was fire burning on his skin.

“Oh...” Lucifer moaned, his head falling back into the pillow. “This feels really good,” he whispered, the words slipping out unbidden, soft and full of need.

His clone stayed silent, his hips rocking steadily, methodically. But then, unexpectedly, he stopped. Lucifer’s eyes fluttered open just as he felt a sharp tug on his tail. Pain and pleasure crashed together, sending a shock through his body. “Oh, fuck!” he gasped, his hips jerking forward as a bead of pre-cum dripped from the tip of his cock.

His clone shifted lower, settling between Lucifer’s legs. His cock jutted out, red-tipped and aching, and Lucifer’s breath hitched again as his clone lowered his head. The forked tongue slipped from his clone’s lips, teasing the slit of Lucifer’s cock, dipping just slightly into the sensitive opening before swirling around the shaft. The sensation was maddening, the wet heat of his tongue sending Lucifer spiralling further into pleasure.

Lucifer’s chest heaved, his fingers clenching at the sheets beneath him as the world around him faded away, leaving nothing but the intense, unbearable feeling of his clone’s mouth on him.

With a soft moan, Lucifer’s clone took him deeper, enveloping the length of his cock in the wet, tight heat of his mouth. The slurping, obscene noises filled the room, echoing the rhythmic sounds of pleasure.

Lucifer’s hips trembled, the desperate urge to thrust upward nearly overwhelming him as the sensation of his dick being sucked, and his balls gently fondled took him over. It had been so long – too long since he felt anything like this.

“Oh, fuuuck,” Lucifer groaned, his voice thick with lust, barely able to string the words together. “Oh, fuck, so good...ah, fuck...I could...I could do this forever,” he whimpered, his control slipping away entirely.

A sharp tug on his tail sent a fresh wave of heat surging through him, driving him closer to the edge. His entire body tensed, hips twitching upward, seeking more.

But then, just as he felt himself teetering near the brink of release, the warm, wet sensation disappeared. Lucifer whimpered as his cock slipped free from his clone’s mouth, slick and throbbing, twitching in the air as he watched through pleasure-hazed eyes.

His clone spit on him, thick strings of saliva drenching his cock, glistening and dripping as Lucifer’s breath hitched in his throat. The sight of it, the feel of it, was maddening.

His clone moved with purpose, stripping off Lilith’s old dress in one fluid motion and pressing it against Lucifer’s face. The fabric was worn, the scent long faded, but the texture was enough to flood him with memories of Lilith – moments when they were still a family, still whole.

His breath hitched again as the tight, hot sensation of his clone’s body enveloped his dick. Both of them moaned in unison, the feeling almost unbearable in its intensity.

The dress slipped down from Lucifer’s face, and through one half-lidded eye, he watched himself – his clone – riding him, bouncing on his cock with a smooth, fluid motion. Pre-cum dripped from his clone’s own throbbing erection, every downward thrust sending pleasure coursing through Lucifer’s veins. The mix of his own spit and the warm, tight heat made each movement feel decadent, sinful, and utterly overwhelming.

“Oh, shit, I’m gonna come,” Lucifer gasped, his hands gripping the blanket as he buried his face into the fabric of Lilith’s dress, the scent and feel of it sending his mind spiralling into the past.

He pretended, if only for a moment, that it was her – her body he was inside, her warmth he was losing himself to. “Lilith, fuck...Lilith,” he moaned, his voice cracking as tears welled up in his eyes. He squeezed them shut, trying to conjure her face, her presence, the way she had once made him feel whole.

His clone wasn’t stopping, wasn’t slowing. The movements grew more intense, and with another sharp tug on Lucifer’s tail, his body jerked, arching uncontrollably as the sensation ripped through him. The shaft of his tail slipped between his balls, sending sharp electric shocks of pleasure up his spine. “I’m gonna come... oh, honey, I–” His voice broke as he cried out, “I love you; I love you, Lily!” The nickname tumbled from his lips, raw and vulnerable, a name he hadn't dared utter in centuries.

With a final thrust, Lucifer’s body tensed, his cock throbbing violently as he released inside his clone. Hot, milky seed spilled out, his hips jerking helplessly as the tight walls around him squeezed, milking every drop of his orgasm. The intensity of it left him breathless, his body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over him in relentless bursts.

When the haze of his climax began to fade, Lucifer opened his eyes, panting heavily. His eyes fell on his clone, now slumped over him, their breaths mingling in the space between them.

For the first time, in the daze of post-orgasmic bliss, the pain that had clawed at his soul for so long felt muted, distant. His chest still ached, but it was dulled, the sharp edges softened.

It was only then that Lucifer noticed the sticky warmth coating his torso. His clone had finished too, his seed splattered across Lucifer’s chest and the dress, ruining it with their release. Slowly, his clone leaned forward, their faces close, mirroring each other in a strange, intimate silence.

In a way, his clone had been right. For just this moment, the jagged, hollow incompleteness inside Lucifer was quieted.

As the clone began to fade, his form becoming more transparent with every passing second, he spoke with softness that felt like a balm for Lucifer’s aching soul. “It’s okay to miss her,” the clone murmured, his forehead resting gently against Lucifer’s. The words felt like a distant echo, resonating in the deepest part of him. “It’s okay to be sad, to be confused, to be hurt.”

Lucifer could only stare, his reflection looking back at him – his own voice giving life to the words he long buried, the truths he had tried to ignore. The sound of it, the sincerity, was almost unbearable.

“It’s okay to have days when you hate yourself and days when you love yourself,” the clone continued, his body growing lighter and lighter, as if slipping away with each breath. His eyes closed, and Lucifer noticed just how fragile his clone had become. “But don’t lose sight of what you have now. You haven’t lost everything, and nothing is ever too late.”

Lucifer’s lips quivered, his chest tightening with a raw emotion he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in eons. His hands trembled by his sides, frozen in place, as his eyes began to sting, his throat tightening painfully. His voice cracked, barely a whisper. “How do you know I haven’t lost everything?” The floodgates opened, and the vulnerability poured out like a torrent. “My wife left me. Charlie won’t even look at me. I created this awful place because of my foolish dream...so...” he took in a shuddering breath, “h-how could you say that?”

For the first time in centuries, Lucifer felt his heart split wide open, the weight of the pain he had been carrying for so long threatening to crush him. The depressive cloud that had suffocated him for so long was lifting, revealing the gaping wound beneath. “You don’t know a single thing,” he whispered, his voice trembling, on the edge of breaking entirely.

The clone’s eyes fluttered open, but now Lucifer could see right through him – his body almost entirely transparent, as if he was a shadow of a memory. “I know that Charlie is still here,” the clone said softly. “I know that I love my daughter very much, that I would do anything for her.” His voice was steady, filled with conviction, as he reached up and placed a fading hand on Lucifer’s shoulder. “And hey, she’s my little girl, my whole world. So, I would say I still have everything within my reach.”

That smile – the one Lucifer hadn’t seen on his own face in what felt like a lifetime – flashed across the clone’s face, bright and filled with hope. “I just need to reach for her, and I know she’ll accept me. I know because I’m you, dummy.” His voice was so gentle, and yet it pierced through every barrier Lucifer had built around his heart.

With those final words, the clone dissipated into nothing, vanishing like smoke, leaving Lucifer alone in the room. But as his mirror image faded, Lucifer felt something begin to mend inside of him – a slow, painful process as his soul tried to stitch itself back together.

Yet, even as he felt a sense of repair, his chest ached with an unbearable weight, a heaviness that pressed down on him like a physical force.

A tear slipped down his cheek, and with it came a broken, self-deprecating laugh that echoed through the empty space. He was still draped in Lilith’s old dress, his body bare beneath the fabric, his torso sticky with his own release. The absurdity of it all hit him at once, and he laughed – laughed until the sound turned into a sob.

He had turned his back on his greatest fear for so long, choosing the safety of solitude over the vulnerability of facing what truly terrified him; his own heartbreak. For centuries, it had been easier to shut himself away, to protect his fragile ego, to numb himself to the pain. But now, in the quiet aftermath of everything, he realized that his heart had been breaking all along.

Every day he spent alone, every day he pretended that he didn’t care, it shattered just a little more.

The tears came in waves, and he let them. He cried for all that he had lost, for the family he had once had, for the years of silence that had driven him deeper into his own despair. But he also cried because, for the first time, he understood that he hadn’t lost everything. Not yet.

There was still time.

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

91 notes · View notes

chlorinecake · 1 year ago

Text

convenient chances lll

PAIRING: yandere!stalker!enhypen x fem!reader

CW: violence, paranoia/anxiety, foul language, kidnapping, kissing, mentions of hunger and torture, reader just gets treated like a toy basically

WC: 5k — read part l and part ll here

YOUR BODY WAS still going through the effects of last nights torture fest in Jay’s classroom.

You knew your ex-boyfriend was crazy, but you had no idea he'd go to such lengths to get you in line, all for the sake of chasing this love he couldn't resist.

His deadliest fantasy.

Jay woke up some time ahead of you to prepare breakfast for you both. You’re not sure if this was his way of making things up to you after last night’s events, mostly because what you went through didn’t seem to bother his conscious in the slightest.

You’d bet your well-being was only partially a concern to him, especially on the matter of “corrective discipline.”

Taking a moment to recollect your emotions, you got up out of bed, just now realizing the silk and lavender nightgown you wore to bed for the night.

Oh, Jay, the man you aspire to be.

From the looks of it, Jay hadn’t made any changes to his bedroom since the last time you saw it before running away from him.

There was something about the familiarity of the space that soothed your nerves. And so, you held onto that sliver of tranquility, walking into his bathroom before closing the door behind you.

There was a fresh toothbrush sitting in a glass cup on the bathroom counter. Beside it was a feminine all purpose skin wash and expensive moisturizer, both in the scent of “Captured,” which had notes of white grape and peach.

What a pleasant pair for such a confining name, you thought to yourself.

While brushing your teeth, you looked at your reflection in the mirror, thinking of what you were gonna do with your hair for the day.

Hmm…. Nevermind.

You decided to just wash your face instead, as your current case of bed-head wouldn’t gain much improvement using Jay’s close-tooth comb and near empty container of pomade.

Pump, pump.

The shimmery peach soap filled the center of your palm before you lathered it all over your face.

Splash.

The faucet water was cold, and you expected it to be somewhat refreshing, but the wetness only made your face feel as though it stung all over. With that, the memory of your muggy eyeliner clouding your vision resurfaced in the back of your mind.

You remembered similar stings, like the ones you get in your wrists and feet and Jay’s goons held you down.

The sting of Heeseung’s weight straddling your hips as he poured bucket after bucket of water onto your face, taunting you as if you deserved every last drop.

Squeak.

You turned off the faucet, reaching for the face towel that hung on the nearby wall rack. Twisting the bathroom door handle, you busied yourself with making up the bed and fluffing the pillows as a way to draw your mind to simpler thoughts.

Thoughts of fabric, and cotton, and loose threads.

“Good morning, my love,” Jay smiled softly, startling you as you approached you from behind, planting the lightest kiss on your exposed shoulder. He then inched up to your neck, leaving feathery pecks of affection on your skin before speaking again, “How’d you sleep?”

“Fine,” you answered plainly, wincing a bit from his persistent actions.

In his own sick way, you knew Jay was only trying to make you feel loved, but your neck was still tender from Heeseung’s idea of using it as a chew toy last night.

That fucking dog—

“Is everything alright?” Jay asked in a concerned tone, turning you to face him as you responded by covering the marks on your neck.

He walked up to the thick velvet curtains that clothed the windows of his bedroom, sliding them open to reveal the sunshine you didn’t even know was visible from here.

“Come here,” he said, moving your hand away to reveal the dark purple bruise, splattered upon your skin like paint. He muttered something under his breath that you didn’t quite catch, but from the look on his face, he didn’t seem very happy anymore.

“Which one of them did this to you?” He asked, sitting you on the bed you’d just made.

“Like you actually care—”

“Don’t play smart with me, ____. Answer my question.”

“I don’t see why you can’t just ask your little minions for the details. They seemed more than glad to watch it happen, anyways.”

“____,” he went on with a weak voice, “it’d be a lot simpler if you just answered for me like I asked. This sort of thing is not okay.”

Yeah, your entire life for the past few months has not been okay. All thanks to him and his stupid friends.

“I just really don’t wanna talk about that right now, Jay,” you raised your voice slightly, hoping that your anger would scare off the feeling of nausea that brewed in your stomach.

Jay looked down into his lap before meeting your eyes again and taking your right hand in his, pressing a kiss to your skin.

“Very well, then,” he smiled, getting up from the bed and motioning for you to meet him at the door, “I expect to see you downstairs in the next thirty seconds,” he said, not even bothering to close the door.

There goes his cold side again, you thought to yourself, following after him. It almost humored you that he gave you a time limit as if testing your obedience to him, even though he knew you’d come running.

All the way downstairs and into his kitchen, where a small round glass table sat in the middle of the dining space.

You took a seat before noticing the already prepared napkins, utensils, and champagne glasses that were filled with orange juice, meticulously arranged.

Jay washed his hands in the sink before walking over to the counter, fixing a plate of French toast, fruit, and an omelet of some sort before bringing it over to you, gently placing the dish on the table.

Walking off, he grabbed himself a cup of black coffee and joined the seat in front of you, a look displayed upon his face that you couldn’t quite read.

“What’s all this?” You asked, staring at the food as if it started talking to you before taking hold of the fork, poking at the plate.

“Is that a trick question?” Jay chuckled, sipping from his mug.

“Why aren’t you eating anything,” you went on, but he only ignored your question, taking another sip of his coffee.

“It delighted me to see you making the bed this morning. I’m surprised you still remembered the way I like it.”

Blech, you thought to yourself, making a mental note that you definitely wouldn’t be making the bed anymore from now on. And the way he got so giddy about it-

Clink.

You placed your fork on the table and crossed your arms, “I’m not eating all this, Jay.”

His grip on the mug tightened at your words, “Are you suddenly allergic to kind gestures or something?” Jay tried, stifling an annoyed scoff.

“No, but I’m allergic to trusting you,” you said, bringing to mind an old memory of when he tried to drug you when you first started dating. All you remember was that you got into a silly argument, ate something that he made, and couldn’t walk or see clearly for half a day.

"I just thought you might've wanted the fuel for today, love. But as it turns out, you're still the same ungrateful little bitch you've always been..."

“And you want me to think those kinds of words come from the mouth of loving man?…”

“I made you breakfast which you rudely rejected and I haven’t punched the shit out of you yet. Yeah, sounds like a VERY loving man to me.”

“Fine. I appreciate the breakfast, Jay, but I’m simply not in the mood to eat right now,” you said, pushing your chair from the table, “Better?”

“No,” he retorted, getting up too, “I’m still pissed that I wasted my time in the kitchen for you this morning.”

“Aww, so now the love of your life is a waste of time?” You pouted facetiously, reaching for a glass of water on the counter before retreating your hand, walking towards the sink instead.

He might’ve poisoned that, too.

“You’re twisting my words, ____,” Jay said in a softened tone for reasons you didn’t understand, taking the same cup of water you walked past before bringing it to his lips, drinking every last drop, “you’re just too stubborn at times...”

He took a few steps closer to you, meeting your frame at the counter while taking in the view of you in your silk nightgown, the water still glistening on his scarred lips.

My beautiful burden, Jay thought to himself.

“What makes you so confident that I didn’t poison the tap, too?” He said with a sultry voice, suddenly taking your lower jaw in his grip.

“Maybe I’m in the mood to die all of a sudden,” you said stupidly, fighting for the last word, though, your tough façade crumbled a bit under his intense gaze.

“Then don’t let me stop you,” he said, taking the glass of tap water you’d just poured and bringing it to your lips, “Drink it… love. I dare you.”

Water had never seemed more daunting than it did now, not even when you were being dry drowned did the sight of liquid frighten you so much.

“This is stupid,” you said through pouty lips as his grip on your face remained firm.

“Oh, so you see that now, right?” He smirked, inching closer to your face, “You always think smarter when my hands are on you,” he said, retreated his grip from your face before tossing the glass on the ground, the sound of its shatter causing you to flinch before him.

God, this was embarrassing.

“Now clean that up,” he hissed, leaving you in the now messy kitchen, “I’ll be waiting for you upstairs to help you get dressed.”

Get dressed? You thought to yourself, for what?

IT SURPRISED YOU when Jay finally revealed what this “big day” he had in mind would entail for you.

Dressed in a fancy pair of heels and skirt-suit, you were at least visually prepared to take on Jay’s idea of a great opportunity.

“I expect you to perform as though you’re on a full stomach,” Jay began as he drove around the neighborhood, “Energetic. Content. Professional.”

“Riiight,” you returned sarcastically, just now putting your seatbelt on, “so why do you want me to work anyways? Don't you bring in enough money on your own?”

“By now, you should know it’s not about that,” Jay said, finally making his way out of the gated community. “This way, I won’t drive myself mad thinking about what you’re up to all day. We’ll wake up, go to work, have lunch, and go back home together for most of the week,” He finished, a small smile creeping up at the corner of his lips.

To him, you getting a job was the first step of his perfect plan to keep you in check.

A few hours had passed, and of course you aced the interview, considering how the company was fully aware of your associations with the CEO's son.

The old you might’ve been proud to date such a popular and successful man, but now, you could hardly argue the same.

Afterwards, Jay told you to wander around and explore the building until his shift ended.

Once Jay finally came back, he greeted you again with another congratulations, taking pride in all the compliments you received on the outfit he picked out.

His little doll, you thought to yourself, all dressed up to act out whatever scenes of make-believe Jay chose to play for the day.

“See, I knew you’d fit in here,” Jay said as he maneuvered the steering wheel, driving off into the distance that continued to grow darker with each minute.

It was getting late, and quickly.

“Well, it helped that I got to finish the interview before my hunger pains started kicking in,” you replied, not even bothering to look at him as you spoke.

“You had an opportunity to eat at home, so I really can't take the fault here, love. Perhaps in some way you deserve to feel the pain,” Jay added, turning down a slightly fogged street lined with old trees at each side.

“Where are we headed?” You asked, ignoring his attempt at making your discomfort out to be a learning lesson.

“Goldman’s,” he said plainly, still maintaining the relaxed tone in his voice, “Think of it as a treat for your good behavior today. You can get whatever you want, since you’ve waited so patiently.”

It took everything in you not to scoff at his choice of words, so you distracted yourself by thinking of how you’d actually been dying to get back to the convenience store.

You didn’t care too much for the idea of Jay potentially turning one of your safe spaces into another bad memory, but you were far too hungry to let that worry you at the moment.

THE ELECTRIC SLIDING doors sounded as you walked beside Jay, arm in arm, taking in the view of the inviting space.

“This place sure looks a lot different from what I’ve seen,” Jay remarked, slowing down his strides to analyze his surroundings.

“That’s because you’ve only seen it from the outside… or perhaps from your smartphone screen while recoding me,” you said, eliciting a chuckle from him that caught you off guard.

It's not that you were surprised by his sociopathic sense of humor, but more so the smile that grew on his face.

The smile you hadn’t seen since the first month of your relationship.

From the looks of it, he was falling even harder for you now that he had you under his complete control.

How sweet.

“Welcome in, ____!" an elderly voice chimed a few feet away from you, "Long time no see..."

“Mandy? Oh my goodness, it’s so good to see you,” you smiled, asking Jay for permission with your eyes before walking over to her, “how’ve you been?”

“Fine as always, sweetheart. But now I see why you haven’t been visiting over the past few days,” she winked, leaning over the register on her elbows, “Now tell me, whats with the new wardrobe?”

“Oh- I had an interview today,” you admitted nervously, feeling your stomach grumble a little, “and before you ask, it went surprisingly well, actually”

“That’s great to hear, missy. And what about your new man-friend? Has he been keepin’ ya busy?” She teased, leaning in closer.

A part of you honestly wished she hadn’t noticed him. Clearing your throat, you could feel Jay’s eyes on you as you felt compelled to answer honestly.

“Uhm… yeah. He’s uh… His name is Jay.”

Mandy quirked up an eyebrow at the name before trying to recover her expression with her previously welcoming smile, “Jay, huh? Sounds like a very sweet boy, to me,” she feigned, suddenly fidgeting with the ring around her finger.

Did she remember? You asked to yourself. All those nights that you came in late for snacks, ranting about the psycho ex-boyfriend you ran away from?

Yes. Of course she did.

Jay finally decided to walk over, meeting you at your side as Mandy continued to speak, avoiding eye contact with him, “Welp, you two youngins know what to do! Let me know if you need anything... I’ll be out back.”

“Thank you,” Jay offered kindly, but the lady only nodded, staying in place despite having said she was going to the store-back.

“Hey, I’m gonna go use the restroom real quick. Pick out something good while I’m gone, too. I’ve been dying to try your favorites,” Jay said, pressing a tender kiss upon the top of your head before walking off to do his business.

“That’s exactly who I think it is, isn’t it?” Mandy began with a whisper, folding her arms in front of herself.

“Yes…” you confessed, a feeling of goosebumps rising to your skin at the realization.

You were slowly relieving the nightmare you escaped all over again.

“Then why are you with him? That guy’s a monster… Do you… Do you need any help? I can… I can call the police!” She continued frantically, already walking towards the storage unit in search for the wall phone.

“Mandy, don’t!” You whisper-yelled, her long white braid swaying with her urgent movements. “You can't get the police involved... It’s for the best... Jay is crazier than I thought, and I can’t risk dragging you into my mess.”

She let your words settle in the air before continuing, “You can’t expect me to let you go on like this, ____. Just act normal, okay? I know what to do.”

“But Mandy-”

“I’ve been in similar shoes before, sweetie. Your shoes may be a little bigger, but thanks to the food I’ve been eating, so am I,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.

Or maybe that was just the natural sense of warmth she always exuded.

“Now go on, get to shopping before he comes back and suspects something's up!”

“Okay,” you nodded softly, grabbing a hand basket before walking down the aisles in search of God knows what.

You weren't sure what to expect with Mandy calling the police, but you also weren't sure how much longer you could take of Jay and his antics.

Whoosh.

The heated convenience store air welcomed in the chilling weather from beyond its walls as another hungry costumer entered the space, your back still turned to them as you examined the dessert aisle.

Naturally, you felt the urge to glance at the unknown face, but part of you knew that you might not like who you'd see standing there.

"Hello," a murmuring male voice greeted Mandy, who replied with a likewise salutation.

Ok, now you had to take a peek.

Looking through a gap in the shelves, you saw a tall, hooded person standing before her at the register.

"One moment, please," you heard the older lady say in response to the costumer asking where they can find something.

Mandy made her way to the back of the store in search of whatever the costumer asked for, but still had her initial goal in mind of calling the police.

She typed in the three digits on her wall phone, anxiously waiting for the service line to pick up.

Boop, boop.

She twirled the phone cord around her finger.

Boop, boop, boop-

“You've reached 9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”

Mandy let out a yelp that was soon muffled by the mysterious costumer who had followed her to the store-back.

“Oh, never mind that, officer. I took my Grandma to work today and she's just a little disoriented from the meds. Please excuse her behavior.”

“Not a problem sir, just make sure she stays away from the phone from now on. Is there anything else we can help you with tonight?” The operator inquired, oblivious to the way Mandy struggled in the man's vicious grip.

“No ma’am, thank you for your assistance and have a great day.”

“Yup, we're always here to help. Just keep a good eye on your grandmother, too, alright? Stay safe.”

Boop, boop.

Mandy let out a wheezy breath as Sunghoon finally uncovered her mouth, dramatically wiping his hands off on his clothes, "I never understood why you wrinkly hags even bother with putting lipstick on. You're still just as hideous," he said with disgust, watching as the frightened woman fell to her knees, closing her eyes with a now bowed head.

A string of silent prayers poured from her lips, ones that she hadn't felt the need to rehearse in a very long time. The poor lady was overwhelmed with terror, and her only developed response was to pray for protection, which for obvious reasons, humored Sunghoon.

“I hope you got enough “Amen’s” in while you were down there,” he snickered, lifting her up from the ground in his harsh grip.

“How dare you?” Mandy cried with a weakened voice, struggling yet again against his strength, “You will pay for every wrong you've ever committed if you don't unhand me!”

“Would you just shut up already,” Sunghoon complained, opening the back door with his foot for Jungwon and Niki to come in, who quickly went to tie Mandy's hands and feet together with rope, sealing her mouth with a piece of duct tape.

“You’re lucky we haven’t strangled you with this phone cord yet,” Niki threatened, annoyed with the woman's persistence in fighting them off while dodging her feeble attacks.

"Thing's would be so much easier if you just stopped moving for ONE fucking second," Jungwon grunted as he tightened the rope around her feet.

“Alright, this’ll have to do,” Sunghoon said, Niki helping him prop Mandy up against the wall before making their way back to the storage room door, “let’s go.”

Meanwhile, you had successfully managed to get some grocery shopping in before you felt someone harshly grab you by the hair.

“Ahhhhh," you winced in pain, dropping your basket of items on the ground, "J- Jay, what the hell? You said you wouldn’t hurt me anymore,” you cried out, already feeling tears form in your eyes from the sharp sting.

“I've never been called Jay before in my life. But I'll let you guess again, only because I think you're cute," the voice of your offender whispered eerily.

What, you asked to yourself, turning your head to see none other than Heeseung staring back at you with his hungry gaze, his hold on your hair not letting up for one second.

“Didn’t expect to see me, huh? Have you missed my presence?”

“Get your fucking hands off of me, pervert!" You screamed, using your nails to scratch at his arms, though hardly to leave any marks, "Jay! Mandy! Somebody help me! Nngh- Jay!” Your weak pleas seemed to amuse Heeseung as he continued to swing you around like his personal play thing, chuckled at your words.

“What would it take for me to get you to scream my name like that?" he started, pulling your face up to meet his again, "All desperate and trembling for me.”

“Fuck~ let GO!” You cried, tears slightly blurring your vision as you could feel him now guiding you out of the store by the hair.

You couldn't believe this was actually happening.

“Watch your mouth, princess,” Sunghoon suddenly said, opening a bag of chips from the shelf that he didn’t intend on paying for.

The sound of rushed footsteps distracted the two boys for a moment as Jay ran over, having rushed out of the restroom given all the calamity.

“What’s going on over here? Is everything okay," Jay asked in a concerned voice, but you knew he wasn't talking to you.

Heeseung forced your head up to look at Jay, “Just your little toy here forgetting what game we’re playing... What sole purpose she was made for.”

Jay hummed in response, biting his lip as a disappointed look wavered over his features.

“That’s such bullshit! Jay, you were just in here! They’re lying-”

“Take her to the truck.” Jay cut you off, still looking you dead in your watery eyes.

"W-what?" You tried, but he simply ignored you, watching as Sunghoon walked out the store first, with Jungwon and Niki already having left sometime earlier.

You tried not to trip as Heeseung dragged you to the vehicle, finally releasing his grip on your hair before shoving you in the car.

Looking ahead, you saw Sunoo in the driver's seat, Jay soon climbing into the seat beside him followed by Jake appearing out of nowhere.

"This is ridiculous, you know that?" You started, gritting your teeth slightly from how much your head hurt, "I've been playing by your rules all fucking day, and now you just decide to punish me with a random sneak attack from your blood-thirsty goons?"

"You know what you were up to in that store, ____, so cut the innocent act," Jake started defensively, "We saw everything from outside."

"You saw what?" Jay inquired, fastening his seatbelt as Sunoo took off in the truck, exiting the parking space.

"She must've told that old chick something off about us. I caught her trying to call the cops in the back," Sunghoon clarified.

"I didn't tell her anything about you sickos... she just recognized Jay and wanted to help, given how crazy you clearly are," you fought back, wrestling with the door knob but to no avail.

"God, can I just punch her again?" Niki groaned in annoyance, "I swear, she never stops running her damn mouth."

“Remember what Jay said, we're not allowed to leave any bruises on his precious toy,” Heeseung sighed, cracking his knuckles and glancing at you from his seat, “…Unfortunately.”

“What’d you guys do to Mandy?”

The car nearly rocked you out of your seat before Jungwon reached over a hand to hold you in place, “We cooked her in a skillet with onions and bell pepper.”

Their lack of humanity was unbelievable.

“What’d you sick freaks do to her!?” You screamed with a cracked voice, pushing Jungwon's hands off of you in a fit of rage.

Sunoo was getting so annoyed with your whining that he slammed his foot and the gas, causing the view outside the window to become blurry given the increased speed.

"Hey, try not to get us all killed before we even get there, speed demon," Jungwon sighed, wrapping his hand around the roof's coat hook.

Sunoo slightly slowing down a bit as he trailed down a rocky path you're sure you've seen recently.

Maybe even just yesterday.

Before you knew it, the truck was coming to a complete stop under the shady forest-life surroundings, doors unlocking in sync at every which end.

Just like before, Jake and Heeseung carried you out of the vehicle before detaining your arms, clutching you by both the armpits.

Your shoulders were starting to tingle from how tightly they held onto you, your feet dragging dumbly behind as they walked towards a ledge where the rest of the boys stood nearby.

By now, you're not sure if it was the fear making you feel dizzy, or your lack of energy from being starved all day, but what you knew for sure was that fighting against the seven boys always made you feel better than just taking their plows.

“I know you’re not gonna throw me over, so you can put me down already," you taunted them, frustration still ever present in your voice as you spoke, "You punks don’t have the balls to.”

"Oh, yeah," the eldest boy started amusedly, "Maybe I'll have to prove you wrong sometime-"

“For the love of God, would you stop being horny for one second?” Jay cringed in disgust, to which Heeseung only chuckled in response.

“Look. Sunghoon and I have a better idea,” Jungwon offered, motioning for Niki to walk towards you as Jake and Heeseung still held you firmly in their arms.

“Mhm, and what’s that?” You challenged, not feeling threatened in the slightest by Niki’s presence in this moment.

You’d give it to him that he was scarier than the others, but his age was enough for you to underestimate him.

Bad move, honestly…

“You say we won’t throw you over, right?" Niki huffed, staring you down with his piercing eyes as he stood behind you, "Then I say let’s prove that theory wrong,” Niki grunted, kicking you in the back as gravity snatched you clean from Jake and Heeseung's grip.

You tumbled down the hill, rocks and sticks coming into contact with your fragile skin before you rolled into a steep ditch, falling flat on your back. A bit of dirt got caught in your throat, making you cough more than desired given how sore your stomach was feeling now.

“What the fuck, Niki?” Sunghoon scolded the younger boy, aggressively pushing his shoulder.

“I had to do something! Otherwise we would’ve just spent our time taunting her for hours. And besides, she was gonna rat us out anyway.”

Sunghoon shook his head at Niki's words, “But Jungwon and I didn’t agree upon kicking her over the ledge, Niki... Jay, aren’t you gonna do something about this? She could die down there!” Sunghoon pressed, a worried expression wavering over Jake’s face now, too.

“And I’ll worry about that in the morning,” Jay said plainly, biting his lip as if in thought before continuing, “Go home. All of you.”

“But," Sunoo started, finally starting to feel an emotion other than anger, "what about you?”

“I’ll get back my own way. Just do as I say,” he answered coldly, leaving the camp sight and heading up the hill, likely to walk home for the night.

"All… alright then," Heeseung frowned almost, motioning with his hand for the rest of the boys to follow him as they walked back to the truck, obeying Jay's words.

You heard most of the conversation but your coughing caused you to miss a few parts. Though, one phrase echoed in the back of your mind a few times as your eyes began to fail you in the darkness of the hole.

She was gonna rat us out anyways...

That's when you felt something fuzzy crawl over your hand.

Wait- no?

It was actually kind of cold and sticky- OH MY GOSH, something else just crawled over your foot!

A- and... what the heck, your face.

A family of rats ran rampant around you, your scream of terror causing the sickening creatures to retreat to whatever hole they crawled from as you got up from the ground, now feeling more disgusted than ever.

The tears were finally starting to fall again.

The squeaks that croaked from their tiny bodies was enough to make you feel nauseous, and the smell of rot that emitted all around you didn't seem to help, either.

You fell back to your knees, too weak, too hungry, and too hurt to keep pushing yourself. And for what? That clan of reckless freaks who had no other goal in life but to help Jay fulfill his delusional needs?

A cluster of thoughts floated within the foggy space of your mind.

What if you submitted to Jay from now on?

Would that really make him happy?

Would that really change the rocky course in which your life already in pieces was crumbling upon?

No, you fought with your depleting strength, I can't give up on myself… not just yet.

You tried climbing out of the ditch, shoving your feet into the soft dirt that made up the walls, but you were already in too deep.

It didn’t bring you any more comfort knowing that you’d be stuck down here for the rest of the night, and maybe even longer if Jay saw fit. No matter how loud you screamed nor how pitifully you cried, no one was coming to save you.

Ｔｏｂｅｃｏｎｔｉｎｕｅｄ…

☆ ᴀ/ɴ: in no way, shape, or form does this fanfic intend to romanticize unhealthy relationships or abusive behaviors. i simply write for entertainment and creative purposes. thus, reader discretion is always advised.

☆ taglist: @squoxle @nikisdubblchococake @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @03sunoos @kaykay11sworld @gigiramirezsblog @hoonsyo @en-thralled @haechansheart @night-en-shining-armor @cutiejseong @j-wyoung @bambangan @wonbyf @4imhry @zhangyi-johee @naddii @valhrts @tinyenha @lisaaannna @valentineluvr @heecries @espyluvsyou @tokusatsutoad @confuse20x @teddursa @riviyw @tamii4 @lovelycassy @addictedtohobi @gardenwons @nikipedia07 @tubatusoobs @03sunoos @oshsha @elleflying07 @jjungwonss @soobins--dimple @heeseung-min @yevene @clarisabutterfliescupcake @heerinnie @wonbyf @naddii @smouches (forgot to tag you earlier, sorry)

☆ Special credit to @kimjiho1 for the vintage borders used in this fic !! She called me “cute” and “bro” in the same sentence once, and I nearly folded in half—

391 notes · View notes

sailoryooons · 1 year ago

Note

Okay hear me out, but maybe a little bit of enemies to lovers, little bit of smutty goodness between witch hunter!yoongi and witch!reader?? Idk why this popped in my head but I’m kind of desperate to see a little something now lol.

Also, I love you ❤️

❀ Pairing: Witch hunter!Yoongi x f. witch!reader

❀ Summary: For years, you and Yoongi have played cat and mouse. It’s his duty to rid the world of witches, but he always finds a new excuse to let you slip through his fingers. When you find yourself at his mercy, you wonder if the great witch hunter will finally end your game of chase, or if there’s something that will stay his hand.

❀ Word Count: 4188

❀ Genre: Urban fantasy, enemies to lovers, a hint of angst, smut

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: On screen character death (not permanent though), depictions of blood and intense action sequences, scary demon thing, depiction of weapons, hints at violence between two groups of people, mild world building, a bit of angst, explicit language, explicit sexual content featuring light nipple play, unprotected vaginal sex, emotional sex, a lot of spit, UNEDITED.

❀ Published: August 3, 2023

❀ A/N: I don’t know why I thought I’d be able to control myself with some of these ideas because god dammit Sarah, I want to turn this into more than ~4k of a work. Like this idea inspired me so much, you have no idea how insane I wanted to go on this but I had to CONTROL MYSELF because I promised that this year I would keep it tame. I love you so much and I’m so sorry that this is like 90% plot and 10% smut but I kept inching toward 5k and I was like I HAVE GOT TO STOP MYSELF JESUS CHRIST and dkfgjdiogjfoigjg I am telling you right now, I want to come back and revisit this fic and makie it like a four chapter thing or something because GOD I LOVED THIS IDEA AND YOU KNEW JUST WHAT TO REQUEST. Also this is unedited!!!!

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Most nights, Yoongi dreams of you. He knows better, and yet he can’t help himself. It’s like you’re living under his skin, a virus that has taken root in the marrow of his bones. He doesn’t know how he would dig you out if he tried.

If he tried.

If anyone from the Conclave knew the dangerous game that Yoongi is playing, he would be ousted or killed. Killing would be the mercy, but he’s garnered enough hate within the elite members of the Conclave to know they’d rather him suffer cut off from his resources. His friends. His family.

Still, Yoongi walks a dangerous line. He knows it’s wrong, letting a witch infect him like a sickness. He is sure that he’s under your spell. There’s no other explanation for the way he always lets you slip away. For the way he closes his eyes and imagines the flutter of your heart against his, the sound of your gasps, the warmth of your hands.

Stars explode behind Yoongi’s eyes as he presses the heels of his hands into them. He’s exhausted, limbs heavy and sore from a day of bloody work. The activity downtown has only worsened the last few months, making Yoongi hunt multiple times a day and return home banged up.

The pain he can handle. Witches and their demons are nothing new to him. But he knows there’s something he’s missing, something lurking beneath the surface of the increased activity and the strong demonic presence in the city.

Yoongi knows he could ask you. He’s thought about it a few times over the last few weeks but he’s talked himself out of it each time. The curiosity has always lingered there, waiting for him to ask in those moments where you cross his path, coy and sharp as ever. In the minutes you linger, shooting him insults he thinks you don’t mean and playing little word games.

He doesn’t ask, though. And you never offer, despite the fact that your sharp eyes and knowing smirk lead him to believe you know he wants to ask.

Perhaps that’s why he doesn’t. Not giving you what you want is part of the fun. He likes the way it makes you bristle, magic crackling at your fingertips. He loves the way it makes you narrow your eyes at him, lobbing empty threats that make him want to purr.

Whatever this effect you have on him is potent. He can’t shake you off, can’t outrun you.

And worse, he doesn’t want to.

Rain begins to beat on the bedroom window outside. Though his limbs are heavy from slogging through the sewer system downtown after a witch and her ivax demon, he’s a little too keyed up to sleep. Yoongi senses something staticy in the air, an energy that he can’t name.

Opening up his phone, he flips through his text threads with members of the Conclave. It seems everyone is in it tonight, the demonic activity buzzing and the monsters worse than usual. He frowns when he sees Seokjin mention a prowler crawling through the warehouse district. Yoongi knows that’s where you live and an unexpected sense of unease slivers down his spine.

He locks his phone and tosses it on the bed. He doesn’t need to worry about you. You’re one of the most skilled witches in the city and you’ve killed scores of demons and others alike. He should remove your head for the number of hunters you’ve put in the ground, but you’ve killed triple that in witches.

Which is why you’re alone. It’s not lost on Yoongi that you’re a witch without a coven and with unusual alliances living in a warehouse all alone with a prowler on the loose. If you know it’s there - you have to know it’s there, being you - he knows you’ll go after it.

“Fuck,” he sighs at the ceiling.

Grabbing his phone, Yoongi sends off a quick text.

Yoongi: Anyone dispatching to take care of the prowler?

Councilman Haer: Negative. The Conclave will not be dispatching. The Warehouse District is not critical and it’ll go back down after it’s satiated. Prowlers aren’t controlled by witches, it might even take a few out for us.

Yoongi stomach flips as he squeezes his phone tight before getting up. He’s tired of the Conclave’s inaction. He knows he’ll get in trouble for going after something so dangerous without backup, but he can’t ask Seokjin and Hoseok to back him up on this one. Not unauthorized, and not for something so dangerous.

Unsanctioned hunts is exactly how Yoongi has ended up at the bottom of the pool among Conclave members, but he doesn’t care. Politics can’t erase the fact that he’s the best fucking hunter in the city, and no councilman who won’t get their hands dirty can give him grief for doing what needs to be done.

This isn’t about the Conclave, though. Yoongi knows it. Seokjin would know it, if Yoongi told him what he was doing. But the thought of a prowler tearing through the low-income streets in the Warehouse District doesn’t resonate with him. Neither does knowing that you are one of the witches in the line of fire.

Yoongi dresses and arms himself with military proficiency. A black, long-sleeved shirt with a form-fitted leather vest over it to prevent most stabs and cuts, knives sheathed along the ribbing of the vest, breathable pants with a tactical belt and pockets full of hunting necessities, and his necklace with the Conclave helix.

At the last second, he grabs a jacket and pulls the hood up to keep the beating rain from soaking him through. While he has some talent with magic to help him heal faster and make his blows stronger and faster, he’s not skilled in the way of weather or anything advanced enough to keep him dry and comfortable.

Nervousness settles into him as he takes the subway to the Warehouse District. It’s not far, but the train is empty and filled with dirty puddles left behind from passengers. Lights flicker above as the subway rockets unevening on the tracks, making him dizzy.

When he steps off the train and into the wet underground of the station entrance, he knows something is amiss. His fingers twitch as he jogs up the steps, boots splashing loudly as the rain comes down. Wind whips at him here and when he hears a crack of thunder too loud and rumbling to be human, his instincts kick in.

Yoongi takes off running. He knows where your warehouse-turned-loft is. He’d originally scouted it out to eliminate you. Now, it’s something he’s always kept an eye on, steering other hunters away from your home. It’s silly, he knows. You’d call him weak if you knew, probably. And yet he does it, diverting danger coming your way when he can.

Now, danger is already there.

The storm rages harder as he heads your direction. Wind pushes at him, making Yoongi lock his muscles as he fights the freezing cold rain and the debris that blows down the street with the force of the storm. He hopes that it keeps people indoors and away from the prowler.

But Yoongi sees the purple lighting lance out of the sky, an explosion of radiant beauty for a moment before it strikes nearby, blowing transforms into white sparks and he realizes what is so uncanny about this storm.

It’s you. You’re the storm.

A roar of rage shakes the air as he comes around the corner to your street. The warehouse you live in is at the end of the road right up against the bay. The wind is mixed with salt spray, stinging his eyes as he runs towards the shadowy outline of your building, nearly impossible to see in the rain and night.

Yoongi manages to roll one of the heavy doors open to your loft, muscles screaming with effort. Stepping inside, chaos greets him. The ceiling is blown out above your home, rain pouring in from the sky. It tastes like lightning and blood. No doubt your storm is what ripped the ceiling apart, but when he sees the prowler, he doesn’t blame you.

A massive creature stands ten feet tall, rippling with leathered hide and spikes on its back. Long, gangly limbs drag on the floor with black, sharpened talons on the end of each of its three fingers. The prowler walks awkwardly and Yoongi notes the scorch mark in its left shoulder, making it lean as it drags itself toward its intended target.

Which is you, laying on the ground bloody and rain soaked. Yoongi doesn’t even think. He has no idea if you’re conscious or not, but he’s moving across the room, putting power into his step as he pulls out two of his daggers and jumps high up into the air.

Yoongi’s intent is to land on the back of the prowler and sink each blade in as he falls. He doesn’t anticipate the demon to turn away from bloodied prey, but it does, swinging its arm wildly to bat him away. He’s lucky that the forearm catches him in the stomach and sends him flying and not the flaws.

Closing his eyes and bracing for impact, Yoongi is surprised when he doesn’t slam into a wall. He opens his eyes to see himself floating toward the floor, suspended briefly before the phantom energy drops him gently. He lands with shock, looking up to where you’re sitting up, one hand extended toward him.

At least you weren’t out cold or dead. Yoongi is really happy that you’re not dead, but it’s cut short as the prowler charges him.

This time, Yoongi’s ready. He runs at the beast, waiting until he’s right outside of the window of its swiping claws before he dives to his knees, sliding under the creature and between its legs. He twists his hands, cutting the inside of the creature’s thighs as he goes.

It shrieks, shaking the building and scattering Yoongi’s thoughts. He feels fizzy and confused for a moment, the mind breaking scream of the prowler enough to make him vulnerable. He feels a hand on his face and he looks up, momentarily stricken with the thought that he sees an angel.

“Thank you,” you breathe, and he recognizes your voice. Usually it cracks like a whip, but this is soft. Strange. It terrifies him. “I’m going to do something that is probably going to kill me. Just know that I liked our game, Hunter.”

“What are you doing, Witch?”

Your smile is like the sun. He doesn’t think he’s seen anything more beautiful. Your face is covered in blood and rain, turning your neck scarlet as it runs. There’s a gash above your brow and he sees a blackened wound in your stomach.

It is amazing, how a creature like you, bred to be an evil, wicked thing can look radiant. Holy. Wonderful. Your hand is cradling his face and it feels warm, despite the rain and blood on your hands. Your thumb is soft as it sweeps across his cheek, a touch more reverent than he’s ever known.

“Witch,” Yoongi starts, unsure what you’re doing.

“I’ll miss that. Take this.”

Before Yoongi can react, your hand falls from his face. You move past him with absolute confidence, lifting your chin. You have a limp as you do, and Yoongi reaches after you but you’re already out of his grip.

Something stirs in the air. He’s only felt power rippling like that once before when he was a child, and the entire Conclave worked together to slaughter an Eldritch Witch that had attacked them and taken out more than half of their hunters.

Now, Yoongi feels that dark presence again, energy buzzing against his ears as he turns to look at you over his shoulder. The prowler senses the power disturbance too, backing away from you as dark particles begin to gather around your hands.

Above you, the rain hovers, disrupted by the frequency of your magic. The buzz in Yoongi’s ears gets louder as he climbs to his feet, clapping his hands firmly over his ears, wincing as it gets higher and louder. He thinks it might burst his ear drums or crack his skull open.

Disks of dark particles circle you as you approach the demon, which is now roaring once more, trying to disrupt your thoughts. It doesn’t work, the air vibrating with dark matter. You’re at the center of the swirling darkness, the rings rotating around you like an access.

The sound stops suddenly, and for a moment, Yoongi thinks he’s deaf. Black matter pulses from you, exploding outward. Yoongi hits the floor, realizing if he gets hit with your magic, he’ll die. Never before has he witnessed the Eldritch Blast of a witch, but he knows that it's only used as a final stand.

I’m going to do something that is probably going to kill me.

The finality of your words shreds him open as the shockwave of your magic barrels at him. He thinks he’s going to die as it expands toward him, but instead, it arches over him, battling down against a magical barrier.

Take this. Yoongi realizes you’ve warded him from your destruction, keeping him safe as your blast levels the world around you. He feels the magic beating down on your ward like raging fits, vibrating and shrieking under the pressure of the magic.

It even keeps him from being injured by the collapsing debris.

Yoongi looks at you as the world falls to pieces. You go down to one knee, then the other, swaying as the darkness cascades around you in a final flutter of power. Then you fall over, heavy and unmoving as the rest of the building comes down.

All he can do is scream.

Most nights, you dream of Yoongi. You don’t know when it started - perhaps that first night after you met him? You can’t be sure. All you know is that at some point, the hunter poisoned you from the inside out, a disease taking root and rotting you all the way through to your core.

You always knew that dreaming of him would get you killed one day. But Yoongi was different. Wiser than the rest of his wretched Conclave. Smart enough to question his way of life and his faction’s merciless killings. You think he’ll start asking the right questions soon, that maybe he’ll start seeing the signs that who he has sworn loyalty to isn’t who they say they are.

But Yoongi never asks questions.

It’s easy to tell he wants to. There’s always that little pause at the end of your meetings. You used to think it was perhaps he was trying to decide whether or not to kill you. Perhaps it was that at first, but now it’s something a little different. A little more. Like he is on the edge of finally asking you what exactly is going on in the city that he protects from monsters.

Yoongi is simple, though. He likes his little life tucked away in the Art District and he likes the wash, rinse, repeat of killing demons and corrupted witches nightly. You think he likes your little run-ins.

Now, you’ve finally paid the price of letting him live these last two years. Had someone told you before you’d met Yoongi that you’d sacrifice yourself for him and the rest of a small neighborhood, you’d have laughed in their face. You weren’t a hero, though some might think slaying your own kind and their creatures was worth praise.

Penance and praise are not the same, though.

Dying seems like a good way of paying off your list of wrongs. Especially to save Yoongi. If only to save Yoongi, if you were being honest.

Witches have a lot of lore about death and where one goes in the afterlife. You’re not sure where you are, if you exist, or if you’re even really a thought. It feels like nothingness and everything all at once, a void of floating consciousness. There’s no pain, but you remember the warehouse. Remember the prowler ripping down the door and coming for you specifically.

And him. You remember Yoongi coming in, looking like a fucking angel of old as he leapt through the skies. Together you might have taken on the beast. But prowlers are notoriously difficult to destroy, and you were in no shape to protect Yoongi, much less fight by his side as a reliable partner.

That left you with one option, and though you knew it would end you, you’d done it anyway.

Yoongi’s face swims in your mind. Soft and round, eyes like the bottom of the ocean, a single pink scar carved through his right eye. Mouth soft and petal pink, hair silky and dark, reaching to his shoulders. He’s small for a hunter but he’s strong and broad, his mind his best weapon.

Witch, Yoongi had said. The last words you’d hear from him, spoken with a softness that you’ve never heard from him before. Rain-soaked and wide eyed Yoongi, looking at you like you held the flame of life, like you were something more than a creature on the other side of the trench.

The best thing you could do for him was die.

So you summoned your magic from deep within you, that ancient, sleeping thing. You try not to think about what Yoongi’s last memory of you will be, an eldritch horror that will remind him of the creature that slaughtered his family as a child.

Yoongi will never get to ask his questions. You’ll never get to tell him why you haunt the streets killing your own kind. Yoongi will never know the softness of your kiss. You’ll never know the gentle press of his hands.

Something brushes across your forehead. You feel now and you frown. Or can you frown, in whatever plane of death this is? You’re not sure, but you feel… the weight of your own body. The beating of your own heart. The rush of air through your lungs as you breathe.

Awareness prickles at the back of your neck like a needle. Slowly, you begin to feel solid. Your fingers twist in soft sheets, and when you turn your head, you feel the plushness of a pillow. Smell petrichor and cedar.

It smells like… Yoongi.

“Hmmm?” you feel the vibration in your throat at your unspoken question, nothing but a rumble of noise and confusion. Something cradles your face. “Hunnn..?”

A deep, throaty laugh. “Mmm, I take care of you for a week straight and we’ve moved on to endearments?”

Your eyes flutter open, lids heavy. The world swims into view, a little blurry as your eyes try to focus in the dimly lit room, taking in the bed you’re in and the face hovering above yours.

“Yoongi,” you breathe, your heart expanding with unfettered joy.

“That’s the first time you’ve ever said my name.”

“What?”

“Say it more often.” He leans forward and you watch as his dark eyes drink you in. “And never do that to me again.”

Before you can ask him what that is, Yoongi’s mouth is pressing against yours. You melt immediately, going boneless in a bed you’re unfamiliar with, lost in the citrusy taste of his mouth and the gentle press of his lips. His kiss is soft soft soft, blurring reality as he pulls at your bottom lip teasingly before pulling away.

Eyes fluttering open, you stare at him in wonder. He hovers above your face, haloed by inky-black hair. “Yoongi.”

He smiles. “It sounds much better than hunter. Hun can stay, though.”

“You’re not calling the shots.”

“You’re in no condition to fight me.”

“I killed a prowler, I think you’re no problem.”

His eyes glow. “I think perhaps you’re right. But for now, you’re at my mercy.”

“Kiss me again.” You lift your hands and bring them toward his face, brushing a finger over the bottom of his scar. “And don’t stop this time. I’ll ask my questions later.”

“Of course, witch.”

Yoongi’s kiss is hungrier now. Desperate. Full of all the questions he never asked and you meet him with equal fire. You don’t care that you’ve beat the odds and lived. You don’t care about anything else but the weight of Yoongi straddling your waist and the feel of his velvet soft skin beneath your hands.

Every inch of him is warm, filled with the heat of the hunter’s fire that burns through every member of the Conclave. This hunter burns brighter than the rest, though. Warmth blooms where your fingers press over his stomach and chest, ridding him of his shirt. Fire burns where you grab his arms, arching into him as his teeth skim your throat.

You’ve never felt this in sync with someone, bodies twining together like you were made for one another. Yoongi’s hand is scorching as his touch ghosts down your body, his touch light and teasing as he lowers his mouth to your hardened nipple, catching it and giving a gentle suck.

Honey-dipped moans slip from your mouth. Yoongi’s mouth is wet-hot against your skin, tongue laving hungrily as his hand seeks the heat between your legs. Your thighs open for him easily, giving Yoongi access to the dripping mess of your folds. He curses when his fingers slide between your slit, gathering slick to circle his digits around your clit.

“Fuck,” you hiss, hips twitching. “Don’t bother. I can take you now. Want you now.”

“I told you that you were at my mercy.” You summon your magic, rattling his shelves. Yoongi leans over to your neglected nipple and plucks it with his teeth, making you squeal and shiver, pleasure rattling you. “Fine,” he agrees. “Greedy witch. Should have known.”

“Not greedy,” you shoot back as Yoongi sits up and sheds his pants. Your hands follow him, tracing the faint scars on his stomach, pressing against the muscle of his tapered hips. “I’ve waited for months for you to do something. To say something.”

“I’m not good at that.”

You hum. “It takes me dying for you to take initiative?”

“A lesson hard-learned and never to be repeated.”

Yoongi’s cock is hard, bobbing heavily as he shuffles you under him and presses your thighs open for him. The brown tip is sticky with precum, his shaft long and thick enough to make your cunt ache for him more.

“Nice cock,” you tease as he pumps himself, hand gliding and spreading his precum down his shaft.

He grunts. “Can’t wait to feel this fucking pussy,” he mutters, leaning forward and pressing the tip to your entrance. You make a breathy sound, eyes fluttering shut at the pleasure-pained stretch. “Think you can take it, witch?”

“Yes.”

Yoongi sinks in and you second-guess your statement for a second, but the stretch of his cock pressing you open feels good. Deliriously so, your back arching as he bottoms out. You feel him in your gut, deeper than anything ever before and you whine as he draws his hips back before snapping them forward, punching the breath from your lungs.

He sets a deep, hard pace. You grip his biceps, feeling the muscle flex in his arms. Every part of you is on fire, lit up from the closeness of your bodies as Yoongi leans down and melds your mouths together, continuing to fuck you so deep you know you’ll never forget what it feels like.

Every brush of his cock against your g-spot drives you mad. Every whisper of your name - your name, not witch - makes you shudder. His tongue is hungrily as it brushes against yours, his moans deep and throaty as your pussy grips him tight.

“Fuck,” he pants, sliding a hand down your body to grab your thigh and hoist your leg higher. It changes the angle, making his stroke somehow deeper. Your eyes roll back and your head digs into the mattress as you fist at the sheets. “You can fucking take it.”

“Keep going.”

“As if i could fucking stop.”

You never want him to stop. Fucking you, kisses you, teasing you, shadowing you as you take on the world. You want every part of your life colored with Yoongi. You want him to be a part of your mornings, your fights, your weaknesses, your strengths. You want to rile him up, needle him with little insults that get him going. Tease him to make him laugh and share that secret smile.

Every moment has led to this. You don’t know how you never saw this outcome, here with him, crying out his name as your orgasm crests into an unstoppable force. When you come around him, it’s with his name in your mouth and so much need for him in your heart that you think you might explode with energy for a second time.

After, when you’re wrapped in Yoongi and you feel his hunter’s skin blaze against you, sweat-slick skin pressed close, you think that finally, he’ll ask those questions. You’ll give him answers.

“Don’t do that ever again, witch,” Yoongi warns. “I will follow you into death.”

#yoongi smut #suga smut #min yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #bts suga #bts fanfic #minors do not interact #minors dni #bts suga smut #yoongi angst #halis happy agust

464 notes · View notes

averagewriter-inthedark · 3 months ago

Text

The Romantics 🎸 | Pete Mitchell Imagine

Part of my 'Y/n & The Romantics' TGM AU verse

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x 80s Rockstar!reader (romantic), Bradley Bradshaw x reader (mother/son-type relationship), Dagger Squad (platonic)

content warnings: Fluff, slight profanity, flirtatious banter, light suggestive content, mentions of past drug use. pop culture references | Female!reader (she/her) | wc: 5k

Requested 📨 yes/no (for @fangirlvibez) 🩶

Premise: After two years since getting the band back together, Y/n and The Romantics have got the opportunity most artists dream of getting when they've achieved legendary status in their career: a documentary film. Recalling the days of discovery, early stardom and the love she found along the way, frontwoman & daughter of Rock n' Roll Y/n L/n-Mitchell writes a love letter to not only her fans, but the pilot who captured her heart...and the little girl with a voice of an angel who broke away from God to become a rockstar.

Note: I've said it and I'll say it again, writing dagger squad x famous!reader is in my top 3 pairings I've written for, and it makes me so happy that after two plus years of doing them, you guys love them and continue to request them--even when I've been slacking on getting through requests. This request was the spark I needed and once I started typing, it never stopped. Again (like every note in my works the past several months) I'm sorry for the wait and I hope this gives you everything you hoped for. 🩶

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

3….2….1…

“Are we rolling?” Y/n laughed, apologizing to the producers and crew in front of her when she realized they had already begun filming when she was off in la la land singing ‘How Will I Know,’ by Whitney Houston under her breath while an assistant made sure the mic was secured on her t-shirt.

“Yes, Ms. Y/n,” the lady in an all red pantsuit chuckled, adjusting her headset and motioning for the cameraman to not stop the camera. “But don’t worry we’ll edit it out.”

They were not going to edit it out. In fact it was going to be the opening sequence to Y/n’s personal bits.

“I’m so embarrassed,” the rockstar hid her face with a hand, but then remembered she valued her life and would not ruin the masterpiece her makeup artist had created. “I’m sorry--I’m ready when you are, darling.”

To celebrate the 45th anniversary of the release of their first song, Y/n & The Romantics were approached by HBO to film a documentary recounting their early days of their group, the height of their career, the twenty-year hiatus, and finally their reunion with a crew following them during the American leg of their 2024 world tour. It was an exciting opportunity. One the band--and especially their lifelong fans--were delighted.

It’d been two years since their return to music. Together as a group that is. And not once had it lost its thrill. Releasing two albums, going on back-to-back World Tours, winning two Grammy’s and three Moonman. Performing at the Billboard Music Awards where they received the Icon Award. A song from their early albums featured on the Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 soundtrack.

Things were looking great. Perfect.

Now Y/n sat in the comfort of her home, dogs taking claim to areas not occupied by the many crew members, recording her personal interviews for the documentary while Pete and Rooster worked in the garage to pass time until Y/n and Pete were to do their piece.

The producer adjusted herself in the chair, clipboard in her lap, “So, Y/n, I’m going to ask some relatively basic questions, but just speak what your heart desires. Sounds good?”

She gives a thumbs up, “sounds great.”

“I guess we’ll start by having you introduce yourself,” a few chuckles rang out. Y/n letting out a giggle as the producer shrugged with a smile. “I know, I know. We know you but for this part we’ll be showing flashbacks of your early childhood.”

“Okay, okay. No pressure.” Y/n got comfortable. Looking straight at the camera, Y/n gave a dazzling smile. “Hi, I’m Y/n L/n, songwriter and frontwoman of Y/n and The Romantics. I was born and raised in Atlanta, Georgia and I will not disclose my age,” she winked, chuckling with the crew. She recently celebrated her 60th birthday. “You can google that information.”

“Can you tell us about what your childhood was like? For those who may not know, how did you and the others meet?”

Y/n inhaled deeply, the memories of growing up in the late 60s and early 70s surfacing. Replying in her mind like an old film. Beaming as she recalled, “we all lived on the same block--went to the same elementary school and junior high before we got signed. Maya and I were neighbors, Evan lived across the street. Danny and Ronnie were up the road, closest to a convenient store we’d go to on the weekends to grab a coke or smoke a cigarette. We rode the same bus, had the same teachers. If I wasn’t at Maya’s, we were down at Ronnie’s or one of the guys. Chilling in the garage listening to the Beatles and B.B. King or taking the city bus to our favorite record store.”

A distant look in her eyes appeared when she began talking about her family. Both sets of grandparents died before she reached 21. Luckily they were able to witness Y/n’s career take off but missed out on major milestones. A few cousins passed on over the years, as did many friends. Unfortunately, her father greeted the other side when she was 45. And while it’s been fifteen years since, not a day goes by where she didn’t think of him. As for her mother, she just turned 90 and was still kicking.

“My parents were working class citizens, who worked their tail off to provide for us. My father actually worked at the same company with Evan’s dad. Then mine, Ronnie’s, and Maya’s mom were part of the same social circle.” Exhaling, Y/n tilted her head with a small smile, “I had a good childhood. One many kids would wish for---a loving family living in a nice house. Yeah there were times where my parents had to forgo a home cooked meal in favor of keeping the lights on one more night. Occasionally birthday presents were postponed until a month after our birth date. But, we were happy. We had each other, and that’s all that mattered.”

Taking a sip of water, Y/n cleared her throat while adjusting her position on the couch, the producer asking, “When did you first fall in love with music? You mentioned you guys would go to the record store and in earlier interviews how you guys' covered musicians on the streets of Atlanta--which evidently is how you were discovered. Did you always want to pursue the industry as a rock band or did it come as a surprise.”

“A little bit of both,” she answered honestly. Y/n thought back to years leading up to their discovery. Their small, humble setup with secondhand instruments they got from yard sales with saved up allowance money. Claiming a corner near the busy intersection of downtown Atlanta which was now known as Olympic Centennial Park following the 1996 Atlanta Olympic Games. Keeping their guitar cases open for when passer byers dropped coins or loose bills.

Was it the safest idea? Not really. But it was 1978 and things were different. People left their cars unlocked. One could ask a stranger for a cigarette or a ride down the street without a second thought. 1978 was a memorable year as the year the Women’s Army Corps came to an end, the discovery of Pluto’s first moon, the first IVF baby conceived, and Harriet Tubman became the first African American woman on a postage stamp. Georgia opened the first ever Home Depot, and native Jimmy Carter was president of the United States.

“Music was always there growing up,” she explained. “My parents collected records--my mother always had one playing when cleaning or cooking. Either that or the radio was on. For my seventh birthday I received a wooden harmonica and boy was it the best gift ever,” she hummed with a smile.

She still had that harmonic. It was on a shelf in her bedroom, right next to the picture frame holding the tickets and signed program from the Elvis Presley concert she attended in 1976.

“Any allowance or birthday money I got was put in my piggybank--which was then cashed in on a used 1940s Fender Esquire I got from a yard sale for all of $40. And before you say anything--,” she pointed a finger, “$40 was a lot back in the day even if it was used. Especially for a twelve-year-old.”

Like the harmonica, the first guitar Y/n ever owned was on display on the wall where the rest of them were. Beside her legendary hot pink ‘Dirty Shirley’ Fender Stratocaster and Elvis’s 1960 Gibson J-200 famously used in his 1968 comeback special.

“Of course the dream was to be discovered, signed, make music and be able to say we got to live the dream. Even if it was for a short amount of time,” Y/n talked with her hands, “but it was a shock. Never did we expect it would’ve happened the way it did. I mean c’mon,” a playful left her lips, leaning forward to emphasize her words, “we were fourteen! High school was about to start for us and there was no way in hell my parents would accept me dropping out to go live life as a rockstar.”

“Can you tell us about that day? How exactly did it play out?”

Of all the questions the producer asked throughout the duration of filming the documentary with the Romantics, hearing them recount the day they were discovered was in their top 3. The crew saw how each member brightened, turning back into their 14-year-old self with the excitement painting their face.

“It was my idea to cover ‘Cry Baby’,” Danny stated. “Y/n and Maya were set on ‘California Dreamin’,’ Evan wanted to fit in, ‘Superstition,’, and Ronnie didn’t give a shit as long as we made the most out of the day. But it was yours truly who pushed for Y/n to cover Janis. You’re welcome.”

Ronnie would go on to say, “Danny and Evan did what they always did when a pretty girl stopped to listen; fought for her attention. Maya kept telling them to shut up and focus because it was the one day of the week during the school year where we got to go into the city to play. My keyboard had probably another month before I needed to replace it. Transporting it back and forth every week kept scratching it up.”

“I don’t want to say it was superstition,” Evan winked, a nice call back to the song he originally wanted them to cover in their set list, “But when I woke up that morning, I felt something--like it wasn’t going to be a normal set we’d had. There was a shift in the air the moment I put the guitar on and Y/n started belting ‘Fortunate Son.’ Maybe it was just me…I don’t know. But to this day, I believe the stars happened to align at the right moment for us.”

Maya beamed with each word, “Halfway through our set, a butterfly landed on my bass, and it was only ten minutes later that Mr. Mayhew found us. To me it was a sign--and why my bass always has butterflies on it. Afterwards we begged my brother to take us to Burger Chef to celebrate. Which ugh--!” She made a sound of longing, “Doesn’t even exist anymore! God the days where I could get a burger, fries and a shake for less than a dollar.”

“It was like any other weekend,” scratching her jaw, Y/n remembered every detail of the moment she and the band were approached by the music producer. “It was Saturday, middle of May and already scorching hot by mid-afternoon. We were a week away from the last day of junior high. Maya’s older brother would take us to our usual spot on his way to work and pick us up at the end of his shift.” Y/n bit back a smile, thinking about the big juvenile crush she had on him. Probably because he had a car and job, which back then was an attractive thing for any guy. It never went anywhere of course, and the two stayed friends--attending each other's wedding years later.

“Every week we’d plan a set list of songs, both covers and ones I wrote. If we ran out of songs before Maya’s brother got off, we’d either call one of our parents to pick us up or continue playing whatever song we felt like. I was intimidated, to say the least, when it came time to cover ‘Cry Baby.’ So I mentally went, ‘fuck it, just do it,’ and poured my entire soul into singing. When I finished the adrenaline kept pumping, and I barely registered the suited man walking up with a business card and telling me to, ‘have your parents call this number. You kids have talent that only comes once in a lifetime. I wanna help you share it with the world.’”

For the next hour the producer relayed the questions and Y/n recalled the years between 1979 and 1989. Their first decade as a band was filled with success and hardships. The launch of their debut single and album. Appearing on Johnny Carson and SNL, being the third music video to ever play on MTV and winning their first Grammy. We Are the World with Michael Jackson, collaborating with Duran Duran, Eurythmics, and Diana Ross. The international tours, the rumors of Danny and Y/n’s addiction--which were false, tense moments where someone nearly quit. The lawsuit against a producer who was cheating them out of money.

It was tough. But they pulled through.

“1989 was a memorable year,” the producer began, a knowing smile on her lips. “Not only for the band….but for you, Y/n. 1989 was the year you met Pete Mitchell.”

To say the heat in her veins rivaled that of a volcano on the verge of exploding, was an understatement. The confident, playful, rockstar reduced to that of a shy schoolgirl falling in love for the first time.

“Yessss,” she bit her lip, glancing away from the camera to hide the grin, but it was to no avail. It stayed on as she returned her attention forward, “That’s right.”

“We’re gonna bring Pete in soon, but like your bandmates we want to have you talk about your relationship before sitting you both down for the next portion of this interview.”

“Of course. What would you like to know?”

“Well, to begin, can you tell us how you and Pete met? It was after you performed at the Staples Center, correct?”

“Yup. August 15, 1989, at what was once called Club Electric Idol, known today as Melvin’s Planet Enterprise in Los Angeles. We finished our gig at the Staples Center and decided to hit up a club to end the night. Electric Idol was not far from our hotel.” The blue strobe lights flashed in her mind, followed by the image of a young Pete, Ice, and Slider walking up. His hair perfectly styled, bomber jacket and aviators on. Y/n chuckled, “I don’t know how long we’d been there, but next thing I know this guy is tapping my shoulder to ask if he could take a moment of my time. At first I expected another drunken pick-up line, but Pete shocked my core when he and his friends started belting, ‘You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling,’ in the middle of the bar. Maya looked at him like he had two heads,” the giggles were now loose. Y/n unable to contain them.

“I think Evan joined in,” a cough escaped, the woman shaking her head, “Pete was unlike any man I’d ever met. And considering I married the guy,” flashing her left hand, the diamond ring sparkled. “It’s safe to say he successfully wooed me with his beautiful rendition.”

The producer laughed with the rest of the crew, “Shall we bring him in then?”

“Ready when you are, baby.”

Signaling the assistant, the young man raced out before returning a short moment later with Pete in tow. The pilot shyly waved to the guest, but instantly lit up when his eyes landed on Y/n. Nerves disappear with the relaxation of his features.

“Hey, hot shot.”

“Hey there, songbird.” He took his place beside her on the couch, leaning back when the PA attached the mic to his shirt. “How’s it been going?”

“Perfect,” she replied with a smile, moving closer which then prompted their dog Ice to join them on the couch. Goose changed his napping spot to in front of Pete’s feet. Bella stayed on her bed. “Will Bradley manage the car on his own, or is he taking a break?”

Pete reached down to give Goose a pat on the head, brushing his hand down his back to get rid of the shedding hair, “He’s heading to go shoot hoops with Jake and Payback. Said he’ll be back for dinner.”

Shuffling through her papers, the producer spoke into her headset before facing the couple. “Okay for this segment we’re gonna ease our way into the topic of relationships and maintaining them in this industry. Say whatever you’re comfortable with--we’ll edit out anything you might want cut in the final production.”

Pete lifted a thumb, “Cool.”

“Pete, before you came in Y/n was telling us about the night you met,” Red coating his cheeks in a flash, the pilot making a sound of embarrassment.

“Oh God.”

Y/n giggled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Oh stop it, you were the star of the night, Pete Mitchell.”

“Can you explain what prompted you to approach Y/n? You were with your friends, having just attended their show hours prior, on vacation. What outcome were you hoping to come out of it?”

“To be honest with you I wasn’t exactly thinking of the outcome,” Pete, still red as a tomato, stared into the camera with a pleading look as if begging the eventual audience to believe him. “My buddies and I had this thing where when we saw a pretty lady we’d say, ‘She’s lost that lovin’ feeling,’ which was code for, ‘Please help me impress her.’ I’d only done it a few times before Y/n,” Briefly glancing at her, Pete chuckled as he recalled the words he told her, repeating them to the camera, “The first time crashed and burned. The second one got me a date, and the third….third time's a charm.”

The next few minutes the couple went back in time. Remembering it all like it was yesterday. Afterwards Pete spoke of their first date, how he asked Y/n to be his girlfriend and the reality of going public with their relationship.

“I knew what I was signing up for when I fell in love with Y/n,” with his hand placed on top of her knee, Pete started to caress the area. The leather of her pants smooth against his thumb. “We had high demand jobs. Sometimes I couldn’t get in touch with her per my missions' orders. Her schedule was constant. But when you love someone, you make the time. You show up when it matters. I made sure to be at every major performance. Called every week--I once drove around Reno for hours trying to find a working payphone so I could wish her luck before she took to the stage. Sent flowers to her dressing room--which in the beginning was damn hard because the security thought I was a crazed fan.”

Y/n continued, but not before laughing at her husband. “Whenever we were on break from recording or tour, I’d go to whatever base Pete was stationed at. He’d take me to the hangar and show me all there was to Naval aviation. I would say more of what we’d do, but I don’t want him getting in anymore now that he’s retired,” a sly wink was sent to the camera, both adults giggling as Mav brought a finger to his mouth, ‘shhhh.’

“Now, Y/n, during the final show of the band’s reunion tour you revealed that the rumored break up between you two before you got married never happened. How did you manage to keep such a big secret like that all these years?”

“A great publicist, not going out as much when we had time off and learning the art of deception.” Of course that last one was a little lie. In reality, they were lucky it all worked out the way it did. That people, specifically reporters and paparazzi, started to leave Pete alone. Toning down their stalking of the poor guy. Plus the band’s and Y/n’s personal publicist, with the consent of everyone involved, planted seeds of her romantically linking to other high-profile individuals. Like Paul Rudd during his early years of fame, and Ethan Hawk.

“Things at my job were becoming unstable with the amount of attention I got being Y/n’s partner,” Pete explained. “My superiors were concerned with sending me out after an incident where a fan tried following me to the hangar. Now at the time, this was before September 11th, you could drive onto military installations, but there were still certain areas restricted to only personnel. This fan attempted to breach the restricted area, then there were times the paparazzi photographed me in places that were confidential.”

“So we staged a break-up,” Y/n threw her hands up, letting out an irritated sigh. 25 years later and it still bothered her how invasive people could be. Especially with Pete, her man. Compromising his job, and potentially his life.

She’d raise hell.

Shaking her head, the rockstar went on to say, “It worked, thankfully. Got the paps and weirdos---yes I am the type to call obsessive, stalking fans weirdos,” her eyes were fierce, staring into the soul of the camera.

Well, the soul of the audience watching.

“There are lines, people. Boundaries. Ones that should be respected. Yes, I’m aware what it means to be a public figure and therefore my life is an open book half the damn time. But seriously, that doesn’t give permission to stalk the lives of my loved ones. Hell!” she slapped a hand on her thigh, “Even when we first started out….we were kids. We should not have had to constantly watch our backs for people who might want to harm us. Or scare us for that matter.”

They continued discussing the subject for a brief period. Followed by the events leading to their engagement and marriage. The wedding had been the talk of the year when it was announced. Y/n wore custom Chanel, Pete in his Dress Whites. An intimate ceremony with their friends, family, Pete’s superiors, and few members of the music industry Y/n grew close to. Dolly Parton, Diana Ross, Stevie Nicks, Michael Jackson, and fellow Atlanta natives TLC among the guest list.

“You two have been together 34 years--married for 22. Maya and Evan recently celebrated 37 years as a couple--tying the knot in 1994. Danny and his wife have been married since 2000 and Ronnie recently celebrated 20 years with her wife. Pun intended, but it appears all members of Y/n and The Romantics found the key to life-lasting romance.”

“We did, didn’t we?!” Y/n clapped her hands in glee, lightly bouncing on the couch from the excitement. “I had never thought of that before, oh my gosh, that’s amazing!” Mav laughed with her but then had to calm down Goose who got up from the sudden noise and started barking. Making Ice, who’d been laying on the couch, get off to leave the living room. “I should write a song about that,” the idea came to mind, Y/n straightening up with an expression indicating a light bulb went off. “Oh yeah,” humming, she fell back against the couch with a content exhale, “I know what our next album is going to be. And I promise to put you on the credits,” she ends with a point to the producer, who appreciated the gesture with a grin and thumbs up.

“Looking forward to it.”

November 10th, 2024 -- The Chinese Theater in Hollywood, Los Angeles, California.

A block away from their Star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, Y/n and The Romantics stood in front of the iconic Chinese Theater to the flashing cameras and screams of fans for the premiere of their documentary film, “Rock to Romance: The Story of Five Kids from Atlanta with A Dream of Rock n’ Roll.’

Already a success with the critics praising the direction, production, and the intimate, raw interviews of the band members, the documentary was a hit. The Atlanta premiere the week prior reserved for special guests and critics shot Y/n back in time to 1978. They were at Olympic Centennial Park, down the street from the intersection where it all started. Overcome with emotion, the frontwoman had to excuse herself from the red carpet early. Escaping to a bathroom where Ronnie and Maya found her, the trio embraced in a hug with no words needed to understand the message.

They lived their dreams. They were icons of Rock and Roll.

Now at the Hollywood premiere, Y/n was more relaxed. At ease with the environment. Reporters of major news stations and entertainment media waited patiently for their turn at interviewing the band. Celebrities from every industry one could think of attended. Many of which were fans themselves and had the honor of calling Y/n and The Romantics their friend. Directors Baz Luhrmann and Greta Gerwig--both secretly competing to direct the group's biopic. Georgia natives that couldn’t make the Atlanta premiere: Walton Goggins, Dakota and Elle Fanning and Gladys Knight. Actors including Robert Downey Jr., Jack Black, Chris Tucker, Meryl Streep, and Michele Yeoh. Professional dancer Derek Hough, who’d been Ronnie’s partner on Dancing With The Stars. Supermodels of the 80s and 90s Cindy Crawford, Tyra Banks, and Iman. Then there were some athletes like Rafael Nadal, Carl Lewis, Michael Jordan, Venus and Serena Williams, and Mary Lou Retton.

And of course, you can’t forget the rockstars. Members of Duran Duran, Cheap Trick, U2, Guns N’ Roses, Journey, Blondie and Def Leppard. Cyndi Lauper, Janet Jackson, Pat Benatar, Annie Lennox, Stevie Nicks, Joan Jett, and Pattie LaBelle.

Fans lined the streets, screaming each time a car rolled up and finally exploded the moment all five members were together.

Y/n stood in the middle, Maya and Ronnie on either side, Evan next to Maya and Danny beside Ronnie. The ladies appeared as walking Goddesses in custom Dior and the fellas stunning in Louis Vuitton. They posed for the array of paparazzi and fans. Doing their best not to squint as the ongoing flashing lights blinded them. Ronnie cracked jokes; Evan flirted with Maya to get her blushing. Danny, like always, gave his blue steel.

And Y/n? She was just happy to be there.

Searching the crowd for her husband and invited guests, the rockstar was relieved when they finished the red carpet portion of the event. Beelining to Maverick, accompanied by the group of dagger ducklings she loved dearly. “I’m so happy you guys made it!!” Embracing each one of them, Y/n moved to Pete’s side once placing a motherly kiss to Rooster’s cheek.

“We wouldn’t have missed this for the world, Y/n,” Natasha told her, the guys echoing with approval. She was wearing vintage Oscar De La Renta. A gift from Y/n when she made Commander. “This is insane,” she awed, motioning to the scene around them. The carpet was still underway with stars, the countdown to the film minutes away. “And here I thought nothing would compete with the Hall of Fame induction.”

“Speak for yourself, Trace,” Jake, handsome as ever in his Tom Ford suit, spoke from behind. “I for one knew this premiere would have a larger turn out. I mean c’mon, it’s all everyone’s been talking about since March.” Rolling her eyes, Natasha turned back to Y/n, who was biting back a laugh at the two.

Rooster, out of his typical Hawaiian shirt and instead nicely dressed in a custom Ralph Lauren tuxedo, stepped forward. “I guess I’ll be the first of these clowns to say, congratulations to you and the band, Y/n on this amazing film. It’s been an honor watching it unfold, and we’re excited for what comes next.”

“Aw, Bradley,” she holds back the tears this time to not mess up her makeup, but pulls him into another hug nonetheless. “Thank you. It means so much to us--and I’m so grateful to have you all here. To be part of this journey. Supporting me and Pete, the band and just everything.”

“No tears,” Reuben, also wearing Ralph Lauren, playfully scolds. “Can't be messing up that pretty face when you have a speech to give in front of a theater full of Hollywood hot shots. Save that for the party.”

“Please,” she scoffs, returning the manner, “I’ll be too drunk to cry. I might be 60, but I can still hold my liquor.”

“Planet Enterprise, right?” A Gucci wearing Javy raises a brow, making finger guns.

The rockstar winked, “You know it.”

Ten minutes after passing time with small talk, the group were ushered inside where Y/n quickly returned to her bandmates for the speeches and introductions of the doc. Managing to keep it together, Y/n thanked her family, friends, Pete, the crew and production company for dedicating the time and energy to making the documentary, and of course her best friends on stage.

The four individuals who were the only ones on the planet to relate to everything Y/n experienced in the world of rock n roll. 50+ years of friendship. Seeing each other at their best and worst. Accomplishing milestones together.

They were more than a band. They were a family.

Finally the lights turned off, the screen went white, and the reel began rolling. Opening with the image of Y/n on her living room couch. The image of a woman, who was once a young girl with dreams of playing her Fender Esquire on the stages of Madison Square Garden and the Staples Center. Possessing the voice of an angel who broke away from God to become a rockstar.

“If you could travel back to 1978 and give your fourteen-year-old self advice for the road ahead, what would you tell her?”

“I’d tell her……don’t lose that dream, little one. You’ve got the journey of a lifetime waiting for you.”

...............................................

TGM Tag List: @avaleineandafryingpan, @caitsymichelle13, @poppyalice2001, @cutelittlepotatofry, @luckyladycreator2, @americaarse , @elenavampire21, @back-tooo-black, @wildellaa , @artemissunn , @pinkpantheris , @kmc1989

#Spotify #pete mitchell imagine #pete mitchell x reader #pete mitchell fluff #pete mitchell x you #pete maverick mitchell #maverick x reader #maverick imagine #top gun maverick #maverick fluff #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick imagine #tgm fanfic #tgm imagine #rockstar!reader #famous!reader #dagger squad #captain pete mitchell

57 notes · View notes

hopefulidiocy · 2 months ago

Note

helloo!! can i request a professor lupin x reader pleasee :))

in how he’d deal with a very shy, quite aloof student reader who is defo not unwilling btw!! but just very inexperienced in dating stuff. how would he try and court them pre-relationship once they both have this mutual interest for each other and how would that show (glances in class, conversations in the hallway, notes of praise after he returns a paper, etc)

thank u :)))

Most Ardently

Professor!Lupin x Student!Reader

Warnings: fluff, a bit of angst, SLIGHT smut if you read super carefully. My grammar is bad. Let me live.

Word count: 5k. Get snacks, it’s a long ass ride (slow burn)

‼️LUPIN IS 28 AND Y/N IS 19‼️

A/N: I hope you love it!! I think I wrote her more aloof than shy tho <3 thanks for your request!

Goosepimples travel up your legs as you walked through the corridors, cursing yourself for not wearing tights when the sun was high in the sky this morning. You tucked your books under your arms as your robe flew behind you, you were late to class. You hated being late, just as much as you hated answering in class; you shivered as you thought of every student turning towards you hesitating at the door with your cheeks glowing red like always. It was your biggest curse. The fact your cheeks glowed red in any temperature and whenever your heart beat pitched ever so slightly. Everyone knew when you were embarrassed and shy and everyone made fun of you; including your friends.

The DADA classroom door was wide open; you had to halt, not far from the door but far enough so no one would see you waiting there like a numpty. You heard Professor Lupin, his gentle voice carrying through the air as you try to calm your breathing. It’s just a couple of students, no one is staring at you, no one is going to be mean. You thought to yourself as you inhaled through your nose, finally acquiring the confidence (if you can call it that) and made your way into the classroom.

Everyone turned to look. Everyone watched you as you walked, scarily fast, towards the front row where your seat was next to your best friend. She gave you a raised eyebrow, you ignored it though because you wanted the class to continue as fast as possible and you sat, slamming your books on the wooden desk; jumping at the sound that echoed. You looked up and saw Professor Lupin staring at you with a calm, but bored look. Celine, your best friend, nudged you with her pointy elbow. You were confused for a moment, a few students sighing through their nose, and you stared blankly at Professor Lupin who had now tucked his hands in his robe.

“Apologise for being late.” Celine hissed, quietly.

“Oh!” You startled. “Sorry for being late.” Celine cleared her throat. “Sir.” It came across rude and sarcastic but you truly didn’t mean that, you were put on spot to speak and that ached your social battery already.

“Thank you, Miss Y/L/N.” He nodded once and continued on with the class. Finally.

You hunched over your work, your writing started off as careful looped letters that graced your page with beautiful elegance but by the end of the class, you were writing like a six year old; your hand aching. Celine had already packed up when you were finishing your paragraph.

“Must you always write so much?” She moaned. “I want food!” She stamped her foot and pouted, you smiled at your friend always wanting to opt for the dramatics as you began packing away your stuff.

“You’ll survive another ten minutes.” You smiled, loving your friend and her way of words. Professor Lupin was cleaning his blackboard when the rest of the students left, no one thanking him but you did. You always thanked your teachers.

“Thanks, Professor.” You smiled brightly and he looked over his shoulder, giving a flat handed wave with a smile dancing on his lips. You kept eye contact as you walked out the classroom.

That eye contact definitely made your heart shrivel up inside because you didn’t mean to hold it for that long and…. Merlin. Did he think you were weird? Did he think why is this girl staring at me? You tried to dispel those thoughts from your head as you reached the Hufflepuff table, with your friends who were eagerly eating their lunches.

“Wow, Celine, it’s unlike you to be here fifteen minutes past the beginning of lunch!” Jonny laughed, an older student, just by a year.

“Miss Suck-Up was too busy writing a manifesto and I had to wait for her.” She dumped her bags on the floor and slumped onto the bench, instantly piling her plate with chicken, salad and chips. You sat opposite her and silently ate some rice and salad, being the pickiest eater in Hufflepuff.

Deep yellow candlelight’s hung off the ceiling as you curved over your work books, your hand going one thousand miles an hour across your page; so much so you forgot to care about the neatness of it all. It was your fault that your hand was aching, almost feeling bruised, because your DADA homework was due tomorrow. Despite having a nice Professor, DADA was definitely your weakest subject and you tried and tried to get the best grades possible but it just never worked. A hand landed on your shoulder, you stifled a scream as you looked up to see the librarian.

“Library is shutting now, dearie.” She said, patting your shoulder softly. You nodded, swallowing down your tongue and gathering everything into your bag. You slung it over your shoulder, slugging towards the Hufflepuff Common Room with heavy feet. The tiredness was beginning to creep in and it was a great feat to keep your eyes open.

“Miss Y/L/N.” A familiar voice said behind you. You whipped around, suddenly alert and saw Professor Lupin standing in front of you, his wand in front of him with a lighted tip. His hair was slightly askew but he looked nice all the same.

“Um. Hi.” You said, unable to create pleasant conversation because you were too tired but also because you simply didn’t know how to speak to a Professor outside the classroom.

“Late to class?” There was a confusing lilt to his voice.

“Classes finished two hours ago, sir.” You said, your eyebrows raising in suspicion. He chuckled to himself, shuffling on his feet and looking down at the stone floor.

“It was a joke, Miss Y/L/N.” You sucked in all the air and you felt that all too familiar heat bursting in your cheeks, you looked down, clearing your throat.

“Sorry.” You whispered, too embarrassed to look at him.

“No need for apologies, Miss Y/L/N. It was a sweet reaction.” His voice was drunk with warmth.

“I should… probably go. It’s curfew soon.” You said, still looking down and you knew he smiled and said goodnight but you were rushing to the Common Room before he even opened his mouth to speak.

“You have no idea, I was absolutely hammered.” Your friend, Lucas, said; his mouth full of bacon as he spoke over you and to Celine, who was intently listening over her Greek yogurt.

“Where did you go? You disappeared.” Celine said, spooning a mountain of yogurt into her mouth. Last night, Ravenclaw had a Common Room party and they only invited Hufflepuff and their own House; but you were dead to the world by the time it had begun. You do remember, though, your friends stumbling into their beds with slurring words and wide eyes.

You switched off from the conversation as your eyes wandered towards the teachers table where Professor Lupin was deep in conversation with your favourite Professor Sprout. You watched carefully as his bottom lip moved up and down, his eyes twinkling with intelligence as they spoke about a deep mutual interest and you admired the way he used his arms to express his words. But you were staring too much because Professor Lupin caught your eye, a sweet smile on his lips as he nodded in your direction. Your heart jumped in your throat and you turned down at your food, spooning porridge into your mouth so much you had to have Celine bang against your back to stop you from choking. Mortifying.

You couldn’t look your Professor in the eyes when you sat, your back slightly arched and your hands tucked between your thighs as you looked at the large black wardrobe in the middle of the room. Despite all desks being pushed to the sides, you still found a place to perch, so you did. Professor Lupin was gallivanting around the classroom, telling the students about Boggats and the spell Riddikulus.

“Didn’t we do this a couple of years ago?” Celine questioned, you envied the fact that your peers could outright speak to anyone they came face to face with. You couldn’t.

“Yes but with everything that’s brewing, it’s important for you all to understand this.” He replied simply. “Okay!” He clapped his hands together. “Everyone form a singular line.” Celine held onto your hand as you both took place, you behind Celine. Your hands began to sweat as you took the steps forward as students mastered the spell and had escaped to the end of the line. It was too quick and you were next after Celine. She squeezed her eyes shut and imagined a big clown running playfully towards her with a menacing laugh.

“RIDDIKULUS!” She howled with her wand straight at this clown and it bundled to the floor into balloons that filtered through the air. As she turned, she squeezed your shoulder and winked. You tried to smile but nothing came and you stood there, silent, staring at this dark wardrobe. You shut your eyes, squeezing your eyelids so much you feel your brain begin to hurt and you think, think and think. Until your eyes open and you see it. Yourself, scared and crying, with students around you; they’re laughing at you and you look down and see that you had wet yourself. You, in real time, begin to shake, your hands trembling so much your wand clatters to the ground and your heart begins to shake your ribcage as you stumble back. Lupin walks over to you, a slight change in his face. Something akin to confusion, embarrassment or sadness. He makes his way over, his wand at the ready until you notice his eyes; pity pouring out and she couldn’t take it anymore. All eyes were on you as you sprinted out the room. Your breathing laboured and fast as your legs brought you to a skidding halt outside your common room. You leaned against the wall, tears streaming down your face and your heart pounding harder than it has before; breathing deep and hurting your small chest.

“Y/N! You run so fast!” Your best friend ran basically at you, her breathing quick, and engulfed you in a warm hug. Her arms clasping around your back, she cradled you from side to side and shushed, her hand stroking your hair as you cried into the crook of her neck.

You weren’t fully sure why you were crying. Maybe it’s finally realising your nightmarish fear, right in front of your eyes; or maybe it’s seeing Lupin stalk towards you, something akin to pity in his eyes as his wand began to move. Still, whatever it was, the hurt in your chest was splitting you apart.

A few hours later, it was dinner and you mustered the courage to sit with your peers; still reeling from the shock. Lucas smiles at you as you approach the table, clutching your wrists and sitting opposite him. To your surprise, he reaches forward and places his fingers on your knuckles;

“I hope you’re okay, Y/N.” He says softly, a smile growing across his lips and he sits back when you simply give him a nod of thanks.

“We’re not talking about it.” Celine swipes her hand in the air, mimicking a line and slapped her hand on a chicken drumstick, taking it and shoving it in her mouth; speaking again. “Anyway, Professor Snape can do one..” Celine rattled on about Snape, but you were done listening instead you smushed your food around your plate, thinking of Lupin’s sad face and the feeling in your chest. Behind you, someone coughed. Startled, you turned around to Professor Lupin’s chest, in a light green shirt and an askew black tie. Your eyes hesitantly travelled from his chest to his brown beard to his kind hazel eyes that were looking down at you.

“Miss Y/L/N, may i speak with you?” You nodded, swinging your legs over the bench and following him outside the Great Hall, where students were beginning to leave. He turns, leaning against the wall smoothly. “How are you?” He is casual. You are not. So you shake your head.

“Good.” You gulped, shoving your hands deep in your robe pockets.

“I would like to tutor you if it isn’t too much trouble.” He said.

“Why?” But he hesitated. Looking around before answering you, he pushed himself off the wall.

“What happened today…” he sees your eyes well. “It’s normal for a human being to act like that and I don’t want to see a bright student struggle with something she needs to understand, so let me tutor you, every Tuesday evening at 6 until 7PM. How does that sound?”

How does that sound? You weren’t sure. Being alone in a room with a man so incredible at magic and being that sad little student crying over students looking at her would be humiliating. But you want, so badly, to be a good witch and you’re a natural people pleaser.

“Sure. Sounds good.” You manage a smile. He seemed pretty pleased with that, smiling at you and walking back into the Great Hall.

A week later, you’re walking through the corridors as your peers hang in their dorms or the common rooms after a particularly hard day with mock exams in Potions and Herbology. You absolutely smashed the Herbology exam, which was obvious as you were a natural in that subject. Professor Sprout even gave you a bear hug after the exam, when you came out with tears streaming down your cheeks with happiness.

Your tutoring with Professor Lupin started tonight and despite your happiness, you were still terrified of the lesson. DADA classroom door was open and you could hear Lupin speaking, encouragingly and another nasal voice responding. You stand in the open doorway and notice Harry Potter sitting on the steps, his head in his hands, Lupin with a bar of chocolate in his hand, standing over him.

“Ah! Miss Y/L/N! Good to see you, step in, me and Harry are finished now.” He slapped Harry on the back, friendly, and Harry stood up. Pulling his robe on, he looked at you and smiled.

“Hey, Y/N.” He said, passing you.

“Hey, Harry.” You whispered and you stepped into the classroom.

“Take off your robe.” He smiled. “Get comfortable, it’s going to be a bit intense.” He also stripped off his own robe, discarding in on the staircase to his office and holding his hand out for yours. You shrug it off, instantly feeling cold, and hand it to him before covering your body with your arms.

“Are you feeling nervous?” He asked, pushing the black wardrobe forward towards you and your heart pitches; breathing deeply through your nose but it doesn’t do anything for you.

“A little.” You shrugged, fetching your wand from your skirt waistband. You tighten your fist around it, your palms slick with sweat as Lupin gestures you to come forward to face the wardrobe.

“Look straight at it, at your reflection in the mirror and breathe. Deep, measured breaths. Calm your heart to a normal pace.” He was standing behind you, his breath travelling down the back of your neck. You do as he says, closing your eyes and breathing the soft evening air through your nose, imagining your lungs expanding with the oxygen; you will your heart to stop being so fast and the air journeys through your body. Opening your eyes, you raise your wand, pointing it directly at the wardrobe waiting for you to come out of the door. And then you do. You look the same, just as you do now, and you’re crying; crying harder than you’ve ever seen, and you notice first your best friends following you and laughing and whispering until your entire Hufflepuff House are standing around you whispering; then, the worst part of it all, you wet yourself, making yourself small and everyone starts laughing. An echoing sound that bounces off the walls, piercing your ears and your heart begins to fall, through your stomach and it churns. You can’t do it. You gag, turning away from the scene and covering your mouth as you wretch into them.

“Riddikulus!” Lupin asserted, before coming to your aid. “Are you okay?” You shake your head vehemently. “Come on, you can do this, Miss Y/L/N. I know you can.” He tapped your shoulder with gentle hands and you slowly get to your feet, your hands trembling but determined to do this because you need to stop embarrassing yourself in front of him and leaving with the consequences.

You stand, squaring your shoulders and pointing your wand; trying to stop the trembling that seems to even shake your organs. Breathing deeply, allowing the emotions to alert your nerves and then you appear, the same scene as before. You try and try to fight it, tears streaming down your real cheeks and you blink to stop the blurring.

“Ri-“ you stammer, gripping your wand as your grip became loose and you point it, alerted at the wardrobe. You’re wetting yourself now, in front of real life you and even worse, the scene is unfolding into worse. “Riddikulus.” You whispered but then your wand dropped and you turned away, crying silently into your hands.

“Come here.” A soft, soothing motion engulfed your shoulders and you rested your weary head on Lupin’s chest whilst simultaneously keeping the distance between you both. He awkwardly pats your shoulders before pulling away, holding your elbows. “Look at me.”

“I can’t do it.” You said, sniffling.

“You can. I believe you can do this. You are strong and you are capable. Come on, Y/N! Come on! You can do this!” He gripped you by the shoulders, shaking you backward and forward gently until you have turned around. Breathing heavily and deeply through your nose, you do it again. This time something sparks through your veins, you watch the scene unfold in front of you and your tears stream down your face. Sniffing and whimpering, you scream;

“Riddikulus!” And the scene goes away, into a group hug. You drop your wand and shriek into your hands.

O! Yes!” Lupin cheered, pulling out a chocolate bar and giving it to you. “I knew you could do it! I knew it!” You wiped your tears, completely bewildered that you finally did it. You were so far from mastering it and it could’ve completely been by fluke; but you did it, that’s what matters right now. “By next week, you will be amazing at this.” He clapped you on the back. “Well done, Miss Y/L/N.” He smiled gently, his eyes warm and soft as you thanked him and made your way out.

You practically skipped to your dorm, your heart fluttering and pounding at the same time with your achievement. Also with Lupin’s smile and the sweetness that soaked his tone, that made your heart warm.

“You did it, didn’t you?” Celine clutched your arm, her hair in curlers and her face covered with some kind of skin treatment.

“I did it!” You shrieked and she pounced on you, her arms squeezing around your body.

The greenhouse was sweltering today as you tried to mix and create the Rose Growth draught. Next to you, Celine was muttering curse words as she was struggling with it. Professor Sprout walked past and chuckled at her words, both of you were her favourites so it didn’t matter what you said because it always made her laugh. Even though you hardly speak in classes anyway.

“Well done for last night, Miss Y/L/N. I’ve heard everything about it.” Sprout gave you a little wink as you showed her the Rose Growth draught.

“Thanks, Professor.” You whispered, blushing. Celine gave you a little nudge and now she’s been calling Lupin for your boyfriend because you mentioned that he hugged you.

The best part of your Wednesday was having an hour of free period, where you could go into the library and read without being interrupted because no body came to the library during Wednesday. With your book under your arm, you settled in your normal spot, legs curled up to your chest and your back resting gently on the polished wood wall, with a cushion underneath you. Your mind is transformed onto a stormy, rainy day and you are running through a wet field until the man you love, Mr Darcy, comes running after you. You mouth the words as he tells Elizabeth Bennet that he loves her. Your favourite part because you adore the way Elizabeth speaks up for herself; something you wish you could do, but know you’re too much of a people pleaser to speak your mind.

“I love you, most ardently.” You jerk your head up, your breath catching as you see Professor Lupin looking at you. You take a small pause before smiling.

“Have you read Pride and Prejudice?” You asked, shocked that a wizard has read a muggle book.

“It’s my favourite book.” He shrugged.

“Same.” You said quietly, a blush rising to your cheeks. You tried to hide it by looking down into your book; curling your toes as you try to die your enthusiasm. Lupin simply looked at you with a slight smile on his lips, watching as you try - ever so hardly - to quit blushing. He pinched himself for staring at you, so he came to say what he planned.

“I forgot to give you this.” You watched as he reached into his pocket and produced a golden wrapper of chocolate, he passes it to you. “A gift from me.” You take the golden wrapper from his hand, feeling the grooves of the chocolate design; you hold it firmly in your hand and say;

“Thank you, Sir.” You blushed deeply and looked down. He watched you, unwrapping the chocolate and breaking off a piece to give to him; his fingers grazed yours as he took it from you, smiling at you sweetly.

“I’ll see you in class later today. Hope you’ve done your homework.” He sends you a playful wink and walks away. You snuggled into your little nook with a chocolate bar and your favourite book; the best feeling ever.

You and Celine pushed your desks to one side, as did the other students, waiting for Lupin to come forward with the classes task today. There was no wardrobe so it was unlikely they were practising the Riddikulus charm. Everyone gathered, awaiting Lupin who was standing on the small raised stage with his hands deep in his pockets.

“Today we are going to learn how to defend ourselves.” He announced. You and Celine stuck to each other, ready to spar and be friendly with it instead of violent like the Slytherins. Lucas and a boy from Ravenclaw go up to the platform first, their wands at the ready; the Ravenclaw stares a hole right through him but Lucas has always been brilliant at spells. Lupin swipes his hand down to signal the beginning of the sparring and they both start going at each other. As different colours of the spells light up the room and your faces, your eyes drift to the concentrated face of your Professor. You noticed a scar down his left eyebrow where the growth stopped, the way his mouth set in a straight line when he concentrated and the way his eyes gleamed with knowledge and interest at his students. You were still looking when the sparring finished and he looked at you, his eyes light and pupils dilating but you panicked and looked away quickly.

“Miss Y/L/N and Miss Rose, please step up.” He beckoned both of you over and you stared at each other, smiling happily and with that signal both of you started throwing spells at each other. Celine had always been stronger, and she made you step back multiple times until you sent across a strong spell that had her flying across the room but she didn’t give up. She jumped back on her feet and ran at you with her wand; sending you flat on your bottom. She helped you back up and hugged you. It was likely she was going to win anyway and it was fine. Both of you got back into the crowd and as you turned, Lupin was looking at you with an easy smile; you blushed and looked at your feet.

Tuesday evening saw you walking speedily through the corridors to master that blasted spell Riddikulus. You stood in the doorway as you waited for Harry to pack up his things and leave, brushing your shoulder as he walked past. You smiled at Lupin, who was telling you to step inside;

“Poor lad is still struggling with it.” He said, scratching the back of his head. You didn’t respond, just smiled, and threw your robe on the desk nearest to you. He pushed the wardrobe towards you.

“Did you like the chocolate?” He asked, from behind the wardrobe as he pushed it.

“Yes.” You replied, wiping your slick palms on your skirt. He looked at you, a bit confused but it quickly passed when you were determined to get this spell mastered on the first try. You squeezed your eyes shut, thinking of that horror and when you opened them; it was there in front of you. Your sweat beaded down your temple as you tried to, at least, squeeze out the charm but you couldn’t. Your throat closed up and scratched as you as the air tried to come out and make sound, but you couldn’t. As you stood there, he placed a large hand on your shoulder and shouted the spell. You sank onto your knees and sighed hard through your nose.

“I don’t think i can do this.” You said, swiping your hand through your hair.

“You can. You did this last week, you can do it again. I know you can.” He brought you up to your feet and gave it another try. And then another try. But today just wasn’t your day.

“I wasted your evening.” You sighed, tying your robe around you. “Sorry.”

“No, no you didn’t. Every lesson is a learning experience, you should be proud of yourself for even facing your fear without crying, that’s a big step for you.” He smiled at you from his desk, a quill in his hand as he wrote something down. “Here, take this.” He held it out but didn’t move, you had to go to him and, like before, your fingers grazed each other; your heart feeling weird as it happened and you could tell he felt something as well because he sheepishly smiled. “Have a good night.” He gave you a curt nod before you left.

Cozy in your bed, you opened the note that said:

Please, never give up.

R. J. Lupin x

There was a kiss at the end of the note which took you by surprise, you folded the note and held it to your chest, sighing into a smile.

You wrapped your denim jacket around you as you and your friends walked through the autumn air at Hogsmead. In your hand was a bag of chocolate frogs, you always bit the head off first to take them out of their misery and you love every minute of it. The sweetness as it oozed on your tongue and how smoothly it ran down your throat. Celine pointed out your favourite bookstore which was named Magical Muggle Books and you practically ran inside. You inhaled the old book, dusty and lavender scent that drifted throughout the shelves and you walked through your favourite section which was romance. Specifically, classic romance. Your index finger grazes against the colourful spines and hardbacks. Your finger bumped into a hard, sweater chest and your eyes followed your finger, up to a muscular neck and then to a soft but sharp face with kind eyes. Professor Lupin. You looked at him with surprise and confusion, why was he in the romance section? Not that it mattered and you quickly removed your finger, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and smiling shyly.

“Hello there, Miss Y/L/N.” He said, smiling. You breathed in and smelled lavender on his sweater. “Everything okay?” Now his face was definitely confused and you just knew you were glowing red, but thank Merlin for the yellowish candles that hung overhead.

“Yep. Fine.” You said, turning back to the books.

“Sorry. I know what it’s like when someone interrupts you reading or looking for a book. I’ll leave you to it.” He smiled, talking quietly but you instantly turned and almost shouted.

“No! No.” You laughed a little, humiliatingly. “I mean, your company is um… fine.” You smiled, playing with your hair hesitantly.

“Have you read Wuthering Heights?” He asked, both of you walking along the aisle almost shoulder to shoulder.

“Yes, three times. You?” You replied, your hands clasped at the front.

“Five.” He replied, a smug look playing on his face.

“Five!?” You said, excitedly, looking at him with a smile and he looked down at you, a fond smile.

“Yes, five. I am a hopeless romantic.” He laughed, clutching his chest dramatically.

“Sounds like it.” You replied, a little bluntly and putting a stop to the laughter; you didn’t mean too.

“Y/N! How long are you going to take? I’m bored!” Celine shouted from the shop doorway.

“I’ve gotta go.” You said, turning face to face to Lupin and he nodded, a bit grimly.

“Okay. I’ll see you on Monday.” He waved and you waved and you left.

Breakfast filed through the corridors as you and Celine walked, arm in arm, discussing the recent weekend when you see Professor Lupin walking towards you. He didn’t notice you at first, but you looked at him and saw a graze down the side of his face. Weird. You wanted to divert your gaze, however you noticed that you lingered on him for longer than necessary; no longer listening to your raven haired friend. He looked handsome today. He always did. Today is the first time you noticed. His eyes met yours and suddenly the three of you met at the doors of the Great Hall. You simply stared, no expression on your face as they both stared at you like you were crazy.

“Um… Y/N.” Celine began, you turned around to face her with a sorry smile on your face.

“I’ll see you in the Great Hall.” You said, Celine gave a weird look between you and Lupin before sauntering off. She obviously said something to your friends because they looked.

“Y/N-“ he cut himself off, “Miss Y/L/N. How may i help you?” Your heart faltered a little, you weren’t sure why, when he corrected himself. You swallowed your confusing feelings.

“It was … um … nice seeing you at the bookstore.” That’s all you said and you punched yourself for it internally because the look he gave you was so awkward; you felt yourself growing redder by the second.

“It was nice to see you too, Miss Y/L/N.” He nodded and quickly disappeared into the Great Hall leaving you with weird feelings and a flutter in your tummy.

Later that day was the dreaded DADA mock exam, it was just a written exam today and you knew you would smash that; you always did when it came to words. But when you walked in and you saw your Professor, with his sleeves rolled up and no robe, you felt some kind of way. You couldn’t explain it, it was a feeling you had never felt before and you physically had to move your eyeballs away from him. You and Celine sat together, your thighs reacting from the cold wood of the seat as your eyes strained on the parchment in front of you; your wrist growing weaker as the minutes progressed. Every so often you would look up, just a quick break for your brain, and your eyes would connect with Lupin’s toned body; writing something lazily and he scanned the room quickly until his eyes landed on you. He smiled warmly as you both connected, your tummy bubbling and you squeezed out a smile before hastily getting back to your work and you swore you heard a chuckle emit from Lupin.

“I think I deserve a Crucio for that exam. Dreadful.” Celine moaned, handing in her parchment at his desk. You smiled, feeling way differently, you landed your parchment on the desk in front of Lupin; he looked up when you came, taking the parchment from your hands, your fingers grazing and you snatched your hand away; suddenly nervous and almost ran away.

A small vial, emitting pink and white steam as you and your class looked on in awe. The potion that everyone whispered about excitedly at the beginning of the year because they couldn’t wait to finally test it out.

“Can anyone tell me the name of this potion?” Snape drawled, his arms crossed. People murmured behind you, scared to say the word so you stepped forward; for the first time ever in Potions, ever in front of Snape to answer. It took you by surprise, it felt like some invisible force pushing you forward.

“Amortentia.” You answered, Snape looked at you with a face that you couldn’t explain. A little bit disappointed, a little bit surprised and a little bit proud. It was an odd mix.

“Yes, Miss Y/L/N. Amortentia. And can you tell me what it is?” He folded his arms tighter across his chest, his eyes penetrating you. You swallowed your instant anxiety about answering and cleared your throat.

“It’s the most powerful love potion in the world and can be dangerous. It can lead to obsessive infatuation.” You spoke as quickly as you could, just get over it and get over the fact your classmates were looking at you. Snape made a face.

“Come. Step forward. Smell it. It’s different for everyone.” He beckoned, moving away from the vial. You looked at Celine, who nodded her head, beckoning you to go ahead; that there’s nothing to be scared of. Your feet move hesitantly, you noticed your classmates shifting with boredom. The potion brewed in front of you and invited you in, your face slowly approached the steam and instantly your nostrils were infiltrated with tea; strong, sugary tea with little to no milk, sometimes herbal; chocolate, sweet and smooth; lavender, freshly picked from a colourful garden and parchment, dried ink on a paper underneath candlelight. You stumbled back, realising with sheer shock who you were smelling; Professor Lupin. You hadn’t even noticed how beautiful he smelt and how cozy he was.

“Well?” Snape asked and suddenly you were thrown back into the classroom.

“I didn’t smell anything.” You blurted, almost incoherently. Snape raised his eyebrows at you but took your answer and called for someone else to smell it. Celine stared a hole through you because she knew you were lying, but you couldn’t stare back because what the fuck? Professor Lupin? What would he say about this? His own student is in love with him? At least that was what the potion said but how do you know what love is?

Was it love the way you’d look at him and smile awkwardly? Was it love when you got that slight flutter in your tummy whenever he simply looked at you? What is love? Because you certainly don’t have the answer.

You can do this. You thought as you very slowly made your way to the DADA classroom the next day. All through the night you had thought about Potions, you still had no answer and weren’t close to one and all you knew was that fate obviously believed you were in love with your Professor. That was so absurd. You hadn’t even had your first kiss yet, not properly anyway, unless you’re counting Percy Weasley in Year 2 behind the trees when your friends dared you both to make out. That was a peck. Hardly anything and his lips were dry.

Professor Lupin was working behind his desk this time, no sign of Harry, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he marked some work; you watched as he tapped the feather of his quill on his lips as he read through it. Your heart skipped a beat at the way he slid his fingers through his hair, he looked tired but beautiful. You kicked yourself out of that weird trance and cleared your throat, making him jerk up. His eyes softened as he looked at you, he didn’t say a thing, he simply looked with a small smile on his lips. You both stared at each other, your heart doing crazy things inside of you and your brain and worries just melting away as you made your way into his classroom. He scraped his seat back and stalked towards you.

“Y/N.” He said, this time not correcting himself.

“Professor.” You said, in a small voice. But something in him clicked and this trance you both were in suddenly burned away when he cleared his throat and clapped his hands.

“Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” He glided towards the black wardrobe, pushing it forward. You tried to smile, feeling a little deflated that your bubble was burst. You had began to feel something inside of you growing when you were gazing at each other, someone that you had never felt before and… it was freeing.

Your wand was shaking the fourth time you attempted the Riddikulus charm, tears streaming down your face; you were a real sight to behind in the mirrors of the wardrobe and you attempted to ignore it but it basically made it worse. Lupin was behind you, not too close to make you uncomfortable but not too far to make you feel like you were alone. His face was etched with worry as he watched you squint your eyes and force yourself to look upon the scene. But you just couldn’t do it. Not tonight. You dropped your wand and walked away from it, your tears drying up on your face and your body shaking; you couldn’t cry anymore, you had already destroyed your dignity around him, you didn’t want to completely demolish it to never return.

“I wasted your time. Again.” You said, your voice thick, as you threw your robe on; ready to get the hell out of there.

“Stop saying that.” He demanded, striding towards you. “Never say that again. My time with you is never wasted.” His hands carefully held your cheeks, so he could look you in the eye. Your heart stopped and your mouth went dry as you tried to fight for something to say.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, hoping and praying your breath didn’t smell bad. He searched your face before removing his hands and backing away. Instantly, your face felt cold. You ached for his warmth again.

“Have a good night, Y/N.” He said, a ghost of a smile. You nodded and basically ran out of the classroom like someone was chasing you.

You sat on your chair in DADA, watching Lupin swan through the front of the class, writing with increasing speed on the chalkboard; you had your chin in your hand and watched his wrist move with ease as the letters spiralled out of control. When he turned, his eyes caught yours and he smiled; leaving a watery feeling in your stomach, making you blush and look away. Your eyes glazed over and imagined Lupin walking towards you with that beautiful smile, taking your face in his hands like he did last night and planting a soft kiss on your lips. Gasping, you snapped out of it, causing Celine to look over at you with a perplexing expression.

Your quill worked hard to forget that imagination when a small note flew onto your desk; you felt the flutter before you saw it resting on the back of your hand. No one else seemed to see it. You moved, secretly, and opened the note:

You’re doing brilliantly.

RJL x

Your head snapped up without any hesitation and both of you gazed at each other, his hand was resting on his desk and his other cupping his chin. His smile spread across his lips, his eyes gentle and sweet as you matched the smile; your heart pitching and a fuzzy feeling rising to your cheeks, but you didn’t look away. You saw his eyes roam your cheeks and his chuckled under his breath before breaking the eye contact. For a mere second, you watched as he continued his writing.

“I need to talk to Professor Lupin.” Celine commented.

“Why?” You asked, packing your books in your bag and swinging it over your shoulder.

“I need some tutoring. I heard he’s giving them to some students.” She sighed, walking towards him. Something tilted in your stomach and you didn’t understand it, your throat grew tight as you watched him and Celine speak at length about tutoring. For some reason, a pressure behind your eyes appeared and you had to look away so no one would see.

“Coming, Y/N?” Celine questioned, looking at you.

“Yeah.” You plastered a smile and walked off, trying not to look behind you.

“See you later, Miss Y/L/N!” Lupin exclaimed after you left the classroom.

After your final class and just before dinner, you were roaming the corridors with your edition of Wuthering Heights and your nose deep into it. A familiar pair of footsteps brought you out of your mind, you raised your head and saw that stunning man just looking at you. A sheepish smile on his face as he approached, his hands dug into his pockets.

“Y/N.” The use of your own first name gave you intense flutters and you weren’t sure you could stand for much longer.

“Sir.” You whispered, looking at the space between your feet. His feet stepped forward, closing that space between you. Your head lifted and caught on your breath when his face was so close to yours. His eyes flickered down to your lips before returning to your eyes, he looked away and pulled your arm into the darkness of the corridor. “What are you-“ your words stopped in the air as his hand landed on your cheek softly.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” He whispered, the darkness making this way more intimate than it needed to be. You swallowed, intending to speak but you couldn’t so you just watched as his eyes flickered back to your lips. “Tell me I’m making this up. Tell me you don’t feel anything. Tell me you hate me.” Your lips quivered, your stomach turning and jumping. Your heart smiling as you felt his breath paint your face.

“I don’t.” You whispered, your eyes flickering to the closeness of his lips to your face. When you answered something crossed his face, you couldn’t understand whether it was happiness or sadness and your heart almost dropped.

“I’m an old man. I’m poor. I have nothing to offer you.” You simply didn’t know what to say so you remained quiet, but you pulled his hands to your chest and held them there for a moment before he leaned in, hesitantly slightly before locking his lips with yours. For a second, you tensed up and let his lips fall over yours before you knocked into the moment and started moving your lips back; your shoulders so tensed by your ears and his hands let go, travelling to your shoulder blades, his fingers caressing the soft skin in circles as his lips educated themselves on your own. Your hands sat on his collarbones, softly scrunching up his robe but you managed to sink into his embrace. He pulled away far too soon, his lips red and swollen as he kept his hands on you; his forehead creating contact with yours as you both sighed into the embrace.

“What do we do now?” He asked, quietly. For some reason you burst into laughter, hiding your laughs in his hands. He was smiling as well.

“I don’t know.” You said, dropping your hands quickly by your sides as a bus load of students passed.

“We… we have to keep this a secret. Whatever this is.” He said, a little bit sadly.

“Whatever this is.” You repeated, whispering. “I think I might be late to class.” You watched your classmates walking by, he looked too.

“Okay… okay.” He said, stepping back. You smiled shyly and walked back into the light of the corridor, spotting Celine and running to her.

Potions proved to be fruitless, you weren’t thinking of the class or the teacher or anything to do with it, instead you thought of Professor Lupin. His gentle hands and soft gaze as he looked at you and touched you; the way he would listen intently to everything you said and that kiss. That kiss that ignited fireworks and internal magic, you smiled in the cup of your hand; not understanding these feelings fully but absolutely loving the way he made you feel. You wanted to see him again.

A few nights later, you and Celine were lying in your separate beds with Celine throwing a ball up to the ceiling and catching it. You were cocooned in your blankets, nice and warm, with only your head poking out as you thought back to the kiss and his gazes and him. You hadn’t seen each other since then and you missed him. You missed him with everything you had inside and whilst you were lying there, you waited for DADA to creep around.

And creep around it did. You didn’t sleep a wink when you dragged yourself into DADA, your professor looking handsome and fresh and he watched you drag yourself to your chair, perching on it. He smiled at you, sending a warm shiver down your spine, making you tingle slightly as you took out your books. Every time he spoke, which was the entire lesson, you were in a deep trance watching as he illuminated with knowledge and excitement.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Celine asked, her eyes narrowed.

“Like what?” You snapped out of it.

“It’s really creepy. I’ve never seen you smile like that.” For dramatic effect, she moved her chair from you. Your heart dropped a little before you realised she was joking. You tried to shake it off but you shouldn’t be so obvious that you fancy your professor in front of people.

At the end of class, you packed away your things before Professor Lupin called you back. Both of you waited for everyone to leave before he pulled you into his arms, closing the door with wandless magic; you snuggled, confidently somehow, your head into his chest and his chin sat atop your crown. Just for this moment, you both relaxed in the embrace and enjoyed it; his heart beat against his ribs and vibrated in your head.

“I saw you smiling.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Yeah. I shouldn’t be so obvious that I fancy you.” You giggled, feeling confident in his embrace.

“You fancy me?” He pulled away, his hands clasped on your elbows and his face pulled into a joking expression. You blushed deeply and refused to answer, you hid in his shirt; emitting a deep laughter from his gut.

“I should go.” You said, pulling away. Your steps echoing through the room. He nodded and as you turned away, he grabbed your elbow, planting a kiss on your lips; very softly.

Two evenings later, you were in your nice spot in the library whilst the rain slammed against the windows. You leaned on the wooden panel, the crown of your head resting on it with your shoulder as you flipped a new page of Wuthering Heights and sighed with contentment as your eyes danced around the page. By your side was a steaming cup of green tea you managed to conjure. Sip by sip, your mind wandered to Lupin and the way he kissed you in the times no one could see; his gentle lips so careful on yours and the way he wasn’t too hard with you when he would grab you. The way he smiled during every kiss, his hands going no lower than your waist. You sighed, happy, and closed your book; ready for a good nights sleep when you saw Celine tumbling out of the DADA classroom, laughing manically and Lupin following, his hair slightly askew. Your throat shrivelled up, your heart slowed as you watched your best friend stare at your professor as he spoke to her animatedly. Celine was just as hyper as he was and your poor soft heart knocked twice as hard as it did when he first kissed you. You wished, so deeply, that you were as extroverted as she; you wished you could speak to people the way she could, be at ease in any social situation. But that wasn’t you. And you hated it. So you turned the other way, walking as fast as you can; hoping that Lupin didn’t see you.

“Lupin is so funny.” Celine laughed as you and your friends sat in the common room with snacks surrounding you. Your blood boiled a little bit with the use of Lupin instead of Professor Lupin.

“Merlin, do you fancy him?” Lucas groaned, grabbing a handful of jelly beans. Your heart faltered again.

“Who doesn’t?” Celine laughed, throwing a jelly bean at him. “Every girl fancies him. He’s fit!”

Every girl? You swallowed the saliva that was rising in your throat. You hated this feeling, this abnormal anger in your abdomen that swirled around and wanted so hard to be let free. You didn’t know what to do, you ground your nails into your palm, giving your friends a fake smile as you tried to calm the storm in your gut.

Everyone was asleep when you were in your bed, staring at the ceiling with tears forming pools in your lower eyelids. You sniffed them away, trying so hard not to let them fall and truthfully you didn’t know why you were crying because no matter what was said tonight, there was no concrete evidence that girls fancied him and probably threw themselves at him. Who wouldn’t? Not every girl was as shy as you. With stupidity and perhaps naivety, you planted your feet on the cold stone floor, the cold hitting your bare legs instantly just before you wrapped your Ravenclaw robe around you. It was curfew and you had never done this before, but you had to see him. You had to know this wasn’t just a normal thing that happened to him. So in the dark of the night, praying he was awake, you stuck to the walls; getting away from Filch and his smelly cat. You approached the DADA classroom, slowly and silently opening the door and peering up to his office which was lighted and your heart peaked. He was awake. You walked up the stairs with your quiet feet. Breathing deep into your belly, you knocked twice on the door. Some movement, not urgent, happened behind the door before it was thrown open. In front of you, Lupin was a tired mess but still incredibly handsome with his tie undone and his shirt untucked from his chinos. His face was one of surprise and shock, yours must’ve been the same.

“Y/N?” He questioned, wiping his eyes. You shifted awkwardly under his tired gaze, he must’ve noticed this because his hand grazed against your wrist, gently guiding you into his office which smelt of pine cones, old books and chocolate. You swallowed the rising emotion as you turned to face him standing by the closed door, you played with the sleeves of your robe. “Y/N, it’s 2AM. What are you doing awake?” You couldn’t control it anymore so the first tear fell. And then the second. And then the third. He finally saw them and instantly engulfed you with his warm arms, you fell into them, snuggling your head into his chest. “What is it? Why are you crying?” One arm wrapped around your middle and the other was curled over your head, his thumb slowly stroking your hairline.

“Does every girl throw themselves at you?” You sniffed, the tears staining his pale green shirt. You never expected it, but he laughed. And he laughed hard. Making your body shake as his belly went in and out.

“What are you talking about?” He kissed the top of your head.

“I saw you with Celine and you looked so happy to be with her.” Suddenly feeling stupid, you pulled away.

“Y/N.” He sighed. “Are you jealous?” You hadn’t thought about that. You knew these feelings were purely emotional based and not factual in any sense but they still hurt. So you nodded. He chuckled, pulling you in again. “You’re the only girl I’ve ever looked at. I don’t give a shit if people fancy me or want to throw themselves at me. It makes no difference.” He slowly raised your head to meet with his eyes, he brushed away a stray hair.

“Really?” You wiped away all your tears. He smiled, happily, and kissed your forehead with his gentle lips.

“I don’t like seeing you cry.” He kissed your forehead twice before cuddling you into his chest. “You have nothing to worry about Y/N.” He whispered, pushing an index finger under your chin and softly pressing his lips onto yours. Instantly, you melted into his touch. Letting his arms drape around you, your arms reached up and around his neck as you deepened the kiss. Your heart pattering with something you had never felt before, a burning deep within your abdomen. Needing him closer, you pushed your hipbones into him and slowly he moved his lips to your jawline, placing butterfly kisses across to your chin. You giggled, he found a ticklish spot and kept doing it because your laughter created an ooze of affection deep within him. He pulled away, his hair slick with slight sweat.

“It’s you.” He said. “You.” He repeated. “You.” And then he pulled you in again, his lips connecting with yours and connecting to a deep feeling inside of you, one you couldn’t explain as he roamed down the side of your neck. You emitted a very quiet moan, which caused a dark chuckle from him. “You.” He whispered, his breath close to your ear. You threw your arms around him so forcefully your feet were airborne, but he caught you by your waist and your legs were now around his midriff. You threw your long hair to one side and kissed him with a strong surge of confidence that had him clearing his desk of everything it had on it - important or not.

With a start, you woke up breathless in a bedroom you had never seen before. You looked around, a light brown wallpaper with small patterns that looked as simple as dots; a double bed with clean white sheets, comfy as anything; a dark chocolate wardrobe, slightly ajar and a closed bedroom door. With the smell of the night before, you looked to your right to see a curled up lump next to you, slowly moving up and down. Your heart caught in your throat and suddenly the memories of last night swam into your mind; the clearing of the desk, shit all over the floor; a knocked over desk chair, still on its back you supposed; sheets tangled around your legs, curling around you and Lupin, smiling over your body and taking you in with the utmost care and affection. He treated you like a goddess, a magnificent creature and you couldn’t believe you bagged someone so gentle, in so many ways.

Beside you, Lupin stirred, waking up and rubbing his eyes before reaching towards you. His arms were still just as strong as last night and every time he cuddled you. He kissed the nape of your neck.

“Morning.” He said, his voice significantly deeper. Whilst you wanted to stay here, Celine would be wondering why you weren’t in your bed and quickly you had to come up with an excuse that was, at least, a little bit believable.

“I need to go.” You said abruptly, but before you could move, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you in.

“It’s the weekend, baby. You can stay here.” He kissed your shoulder gently and you sank straight into him, his strong frame and the comfort it brought you.

“Are you sure?” You asked as he pulled you into his side, your hand resting on his shoulder, your head in the space between his neck and head.

“More than sure.” He kissed your forehead softly and both of you sank into eternal bliss.

#harry potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction #professor lupin #mauraders #harry potter fanfic rec #prisoner of azkaban #fanfiction #fanfic #goblet of fire #remus lupin #moony x reader #reader insert #harry james potter #professor mcgonagall #professor snape #professor x

44 notes · View notes

allwaswell16 · 6 months ago

Text

A fic rec of One Direction fics based on Taylor Swift songs as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis/Harry -

🎶 would it be enough if i could never give you peace? by hemakeshimstrongx

(M, 129k, Taylor & Travis au) Harry's fresh off a break up when the media starts shoving a romance that does not exist down his throat, and the throats of everyone in the entire world. When he starts chatting with the footballer stuck in the middle of all this with him, Harry ends up experiencing something he'd never anticipated, and certainly had never felt before

🎶 The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea by @kingsofeverything

(E, 109k, cheating) Louis’ life is steady and calm, moored by his marriage, and tied to his hometown, but after a chance encounter with another man, it’ll never be the same.

🎶 even if it’s just pretend (say you'll remember me) by sideofzemblanity

(E, 45k, hate to love) an enemies to lovers au based on taylor swift's wildest dreams

🎶 it always leads to you (in my hometown) by InsightfulInsomniac / @insightfulinsomniac

(E, 40k, Christmas) A holiday story of returning home — not just to a place, but also to a person. ‘tis the damn season and This Love inspired AU.

🎶 the road not taken by teenytinytomlinson / @hs3lt2

(E, 35k, Christmas) the one where Harry returns back home for the holidays after a successful debut album, leaving Louis to unwrap gifts as well as old complicated feelings. Cue: hometown holiday hookups, overbearing siblings, and a disastrous New Year’s Eve party. A 'Tis’ the Damn Season' inspired au.

🎶 it was all by design ('cause i'm a mastermind) by tempolarriefics / @tempolarriefix

(E, 21k, coworkers) the childhood friends to strangers to coworkers to enemies to lovers fic that you never knew you needed

🎶 'tis the damn season by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf

(E, 17k, girl direction) Harry returns to her small hometown over the holiday season and starts to think about the road not taken.

🎶 i just wanted you to know (this is me trying) by harrysboy / @calumsboy

(M, 7k, baking) the one where louis bakes to express his love, and harry can't bake for shit, but he still tries.

🎶 Castles Crumbling by babyhoneyhslt / @babyhoneyheslt

(G, 6k, omegaverse) Being an unmated Omega and a king, Harry came under a lot of scrutiny. But when he makes a deal with Scotland, his world comes crashing down.

🎶 in a different life (we would've been timeless) by liberty_barnes / @liberty-barnes

(T, 6k, historical) Five lives in which Harry and Louis met and the one where they got their happy ending.

🎶 So It Goes... by ThoseFookin_Avacados / @harrystomlinson

(T, 5k, spy au) “I’m going to kill you.” “Go right ahead, love.”

🎶 Red by @disgruntledkittenface

(E, 4k, exes) All he wants to do is lie on his couch and listen to Taylor Swift alone. But when the pain is too much to handle on his own, he calls the one person who understands how this feels.

🎶 Twenty Stitches In A Hospital Room by betty_and_i

(NR, 3k, paramedic Harry) H is a paramedic and him and L broke up a few months ago over something stupid which caused them to not talk again. Fastforward L is in a situation that causes someone needing to call the paramedics for him and H is the one to be there at the scene

🎶 Electric Touch by babyhoneyhslt / @babyhoneyheslt

(G, 3k, omegaverse) Harry had given up on love, until his friend Zayn sets him up on a blind date with Louis.

🎶 Timeless by babyhoneyhslt / @babyhoneyheslt

(G, 3k, omegaverse) After visiting an antiques shop, Harry gets transported through time, and discovers that he and Louis are Timeless.

🎶 Lights Are So Bright by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(G, 2k, famous/famous) Newly first-string quarterback Louis Tomlinson mentions enough times in interviews that he's a fan of mega-famous popstar Harry Styles that people start to notice. At least one person does...

🎶 'Tis the Damn Season by zanni_scaramouche / @zanniscaramouche

(M, 2k, exes) The door will open and he’ll smile wide and genuine at the people who raised him, his teary-eyed mother and rosey-face step-father. He won’t think about the cabin in the woods again until next December.

🎶 You are so gorgeous (it makes me so mad) by @dreaminrainbows

(M, 2k, pining) Louis is a hot bartender and Harry is pathetically in love with him

🎶 I Don’t Want You Like A Best Friend by temptationaccomplished

(M, 2k, established relationship) “I only bought those shorts so you could take them off.” He whispers.

🎶 Are We In the Clear by asphodelknox / @iamasphodelknox

(M, 1k, historical) Louis and Harry meet across a crowded court at a time when falling in love would mean their destruction. With help from a friend, they run for their freedom.

🎶 i see sparks fly whenever you smile by sbreadyn

(T, 1k, New Year's Eve) It's New Year's Eve. Louis's running late because Niall took his car. Harry only agrees to go out because of Zayn and Liam.

- Rare Pairs -

🎶 Taylor Swift Has Probably Written A Song About This Feeling by neerdowellwolf

(E, 20k, Louis/Nick Grimshaw) Nick isn't sure how he ended up fooling around with Louis Tomlinson and he's definitely not sure when he fell in love.

#weeklyficrec #ficrec #1dficvillage #hlcreators #hljournal #1dsquad #trackinghome #trackinghappily #hltracks #1dsource #ficsfor4am

79 notes · View notes

peachessndreamss · 3 months ago

Text

Private Bennett's Lover - Part 1

Summery : When Tom sneaks into a party he's not been invited too he meets the wife of the Vice Admiral of the Fleet and starts on a path that can only end in heartbreak.

Characters : Tom Bennett x Married!Female OC Mrs Randall

Warnings : Canon typical language

Word count : 5K

A/N : I cannot tell you how long I've been working on this and how unfinished it still is. But I wanted to share at least some of it, ideally this will be a three part series so watch this space! Much Love to @a-fall-of-stars who knew this story when all I had was an idea and a screenshot of a gif set

Series Masterlist l peachessndreamss Masterlist

Through the tiny crack in the barely open office door it couldn’t have been more obvious that Tom Bennett was completely and utterly out of his comfort zone, and Tom was the sort of person who prided himself on being able to be comfortable just about anywhere. But the view this evening had sweat gathering at his hairline and under his collar and had created an uncomfortable burning sensation in his throat, but he didn’t dare try to clear it for fear of being caught.

When Private Bennett had seen the line of large and shiny cars rolling past the barracks towards The Big House his interest had been piqued and when a fellow private explained the Vice Admiral enjoyed throwing lavish parties in the house, despite there being a war on, Tom felt his feet itching and his mind ticking and before he knew it he was crossing the dark expanse of the lawns toward The Big House and slipping inside through a window with a broken lock.

Once inside he’d crept through the darkened passages toward the sounds of music, clinking glasses and the rumble of polite conversation. The house was, by a mile, the grandest home Tom had ever been in. The carpet on the floor was so thick he’d felt his shoes sink into it as he walked, every wall was hung with paintings, endless landscapes and portraits watched Tom as he moved between the shadows, being drawn toward the party that was taking place in the ballroom.

Tom found an open door along a quiet corridor that led into the Vice Admiral’s study, the room was richly furnished, the walls covered with bookshelves and the space dominated by a desk Tom was fairly certain was bigger than his childhood bedroom.

Tom cracked the second door to the study which opened to the house's main hallway and gave him a view of the party while remaining unnoticed by anyone else. He watched for more than half an hour as the party carried on, the champagne was flowing freely as the guests talked in small groups or dipped in and out of the ballroom. Tom could only see a small portion of the ballroom but was able to catch sight of couples dancing to the music of a quartet.

Tom had been to a fair number of parties and dances in his life but this was something else, like something from another world or a bygone era. In the village, only a mile away, he knew people would be going to bed hungry and in the barracks just over the crest of the hill, young men were waiting for orders that might end their lives but in The Big House none of that was real and the only thing that mattered was a full glass of champagne.

Tom could feel his skin starting to prickle with anger when the door behind him creaked open and the room was briefly filled with light. He whipped around, his eyes wide and his mouth dry, his heart thundering as he stared like a cornered animal, finding himself no longer alone.

Mrs Randall had expected to find her husband's, the Vice Admiral of the Fleet’s, office empty. In truth, she was hoping to find it empty, she wanted to find a quiet and dark space in which to gather herself and take a much needed rest from the party taking place in her home.

However the study wasn’t empty and an icy chill ran down her spine as her eyes met those of the stranger’s.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice a horse whisper.

She stared at the man, too frightened to take her eyes away from his face. If she screamed she knew she’d have help before the stranger would have a chance to cross the room to do her any harm but the thought of screaming was far from her mind as she saw her own fear reflected on his face.

When he didn’t reply she straightened her back a little and spoke in the voice she’d been trained to use on badly behaved staff members.

“Why are you in my study?” she demanded.

Tom couldn’t help his face breaking into a grin when he’d seen the woman stand up a little straighter and use a harsher voice on him. He realised he wasn’t in immediate danger of being discovered by anyone that scared him so he decided to fall back on his charm to ensure he got out of the house with minimal trouble.

“Jus’ wanted to see ‘ow the other ‘alf live,” he replied with a shrug, playing up his northern accent which was in complete contrast to her own voice.

She scoffed quietly before she moved further into the room and flicked on a small desk lamp.

“Have you come from the barracks?” she asked.

The electric light was dim but golden and the room suddenly glowed, the light bouncing off the brass fixtures and the highly polished dark wood furniture. The man stood on the edge of the pool of light but it still caught his features, revealing a sharp chin and soft lips. His blue eyes twinkled with mischief and his golden hair glinted in the light.

“How did you get in here?” she asked when he remained silent.

He shrugged again and moved his head from side to side, keeping his eyes carefully fixed on the woman.

“Broken lock,” he admitted before pausing briefly, “window on the east side, three from the kitchen door,”.

She nodded, the two of them still not taking their eyes from each other. They were like two nervous animals, not willing to look away out of fear and out of interest. Tom let his eyes flick up and down her body.

The long gown she’d worn was nothing like he'd ever seen before. He'd seen his fair share of girls in and out of their best frocks at the dances he used to attend back home but she was something else. He might have mistaken her for royalty, there was a small jewelled tiara on her head after all. Other jewels sparkled at her neck and wrists and the fabric of her dress caught and reflected the light right back at him.

“Well, thank you for letting me know,” she replied softly, “But perhaps it's best you go back now."

Tom's eyebrow quirked upwards, surprised by her quickly she'd gotten control of herself and retained a cool head and calm demeanour.

Tom would have guessed that before she’d been married she’d never been alone with a man, and could probably count on one hand the amount of times since, if she were scared you gave no outward indication.

“Or I could stay a while, we could ‘ave a chat?” He offered with an upward quirk of his lips.

She gave a quiet laugh and a small shake of her head before stepping further into the room, closer to where Tom was standing by the main study doors. She could hear the music from the ballroom and the soft, lilting laughter of feminine voices.

"And what would we talk about?” she asked.

He shrugged again.

“Perhaps we should start with introductions? Name and that?”

She smiled and gave him her first name before adding “Mrs Randall, the Vice Admiral's wife,” she stepped forward offering her hand out to him to shake.

Tom nodded and took the proffered hand, instead of shaking it he brought it up to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to it.

“Private Tom Bennett,” he said, “Pleasure to meet you,” his lips still almost brushing the soft, warm back of her hand.

“Pleasure to meet you Private Bennett,” she replied, pulling her hand out of his grip. The place his lips had touched her skin felt burnt, like if she looked at it, she’d still see the shape of his kiss marking the skin.

“Please Mrs Randall, call me Tom,” he smirked, “All my friends do."

“Then please, let us both use our first names, like friends,” she replied.

“Not “my lady” or anything like that?” He teased with a smile.

“Certainly not, I'm not a Lady." She said with a firm shake of her head. The movement caused the diamonds sitting in her hair to flash and sparkle as they caught the soft light.

Tom ran his tongue over his bottom lip and he took in her appearance again. At a glance she would have easily been mistaken for royalty and wouldn't have looked out of place in Buckingham Palace.

“So, how come you're hiding in the study rather than out there?” He asked.

“I needed a moment alone,” she replied, touching her cool hand to her flushed cheeks and forehead, “There’s only some much champagne and small talk I can take."

“Well please accept my apologies. For both disturbing your peace and for the hard times you find yourself suffering through,” he replied dryly with a roll of his eyes, watching as her whole body stiffened and her eyes narrowed on him.

“Apology noted,” her voice was icy.

Tom chuckled and shook his head, he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and a lighter.

“May I?” He asked.

“Only if you share,” she replied, the ice appearing to have melted from her tone, she stepped closer again to take a cigarette from the packet he held out.

She placed the unlit cigarette into her mouth and Tom flicked the lighter on, touching the flame to the tip of the cigarette while she breathed in. Her husband considered women smoking to be offensive and unbecoming, but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

She took a drag as Tom lit his own cigarette. Her husband smoked cigars in his study so the smell would go unnoticed and there was an ashtray at hand.

“I've seen you, you know,” she said, flicking ash in the general direction of the ashtray, “The assault course you boys run, it runs along the garden wall and from my dressing room I can see everything."

Tom opened his mouth to speak but she continued, looking between the burning tip of the cigarette and the man in front of her.

“You know some Privates bring girls for the village round there? There's a little shady spot just a few meters back from the path I've seen them disappearing into,” her eyes fixed on him, “I wonder what they get up to back there?”

Tom swallowed and flicked the ash off the end of his own cigarette.

“Wouldn't know,” he said with a shrug, “But I heard there's a lot of poison ivy in the bushes, next time I see someone scratching, I'll ask."

“And ‘ow are you so certain you've seen me out there?” He asked after a beat of silence, “Surely us lot all look the same to you?”

She shrugged and took a drag, smoke curling out of her mouth and disappearing into the air above the two of them. “Some of you are more memorable than others.”

Tom grinned before crushing his finished cigarette in the ashtray. He lifted the heavy piece of glass and offered it to her. She crushed her own cigarette beside his. From outside the study the sound of her name being called reached her ears.

She recognised her husband's voice and felt her heart rate increase. She took hold of Tom by the sleeve of his jacket and dragged him deeper into the room, flicking off the desk lamp and plunging the room into darkness again. Her husband's voice grew louder as he moved nearer the door, he seemed to stop right outside to speak to someone before moving off again and in the direction of the kitchens. Of course that was where he thought he'd find his wife, it's certainly where he believed her and the rest of her sex belonged.

She suddenly became aware of how close she and Tom were, how his breath was ghosting past the shell of her ear as the two of them stood silent and still in the darkness.

“I take it he wasn’t your choice of, um, dancing partner?” Tom whispered.

She looked into his piercing blue eyes, it could have been a perfectly innocent question, if it weren’t for the crushing weight of the true answer. She felt her body chill and a familiar mask of cold indifference fell over her features. She straightened up again, pulling her body away from his.

So little of her life had been of her choosing. As a child her father had ruled her life with an iron fist, and like iron he had never once bent or broken once his mind was set on something. From her schooling, her summers and her friends, her father had controlled every single day of her life until he'd handed her over to a husband of his choosing at the altar.

A man 25 years her senior who had effortlessly replaced her father as the single most influential person in her life. From the wine they drank with dinner, to her allowance for clothing to how often she could drive the car, every choice was made for her by the Vice Admiral, as if she were simply a sailor in his navy.

“Not always,” she replied, her voice haughty than it had been before, “but I make do,”.

Tom quirked an eyebrow toward his hair line before stepping back with a grin and sitting himself on the edge of the large mahogany desk, the old wood didn’t bend or groan under his weight like the cheap furniture in the barracks. A thought flickered across his mind that his desk probably cost more than his family home.

“How long have you been married?” he asked, leaning back on his hands and stretching his legs out in front of himself and crossing them at his ankles.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” she replied coldly, before crossing her arms over her chest and hugging her crossed limbs against her body.

“Come on now, I thought we were friends? We’re on a first name basis after all.".

She narrowed her eyes at him, she was usually an exceptionally private person, after having grown up with very few friends she’d never learned to gossip or grown accustomed to sharing her thoughts and feelings with a close knit group and as an only child she hadn’t even had a sibling to confide in. But tonight, as if gripped by madness she found herself answering, her usual withdrawn nature opened up by this handsome stranger.

“18 months,” she told him.

“Not quite the fairy tale you were expecting?” He asked.

“I never expected a fairy tale,” she snapped, drawing her arms even tighter to her body, her hands gripping the opposite elbow.

“You’re dressed like one,” Tom said, letting his eyes travel up and down her body.

She scoffed, feeling her skin prickle under his brazen gaze, she knew she was attractive enough and with the right outfit and a touch of rouge she was pretty but 18 months in a loveless marriage had shown her nothing of desire or need but she felt sure there was something of those foreign, base instincts in his blue eyes. Desperately needing something, anything to do with her body she leaned past him to pick up the packet of cigarettes he'd placed beside him on the desk. She took another one and lit it.

“You'd find me quite dowdy if you went out there and saw some of the other wives,” she took a long drag on the cigarette, falling back on the self deprication she’d learned pleased her father and husband, “out there you'd never know there was a war on,”.

“I was thinking the same about in here,” he said, glancing at the opulent surroundings.

“Well, it’s you who wanted to see how the other half lived after all,” she replied, the corners of her mouth peeking up as she fought to keep her icy demeanour.

“And I think I might have seen enough,” Tom said with a smirk as he stood, gathering his cigarette packet and giving it a small shake, the cigarettes inside bumped onto the side of the packet and each other, “and you're about to finish me fags,”.

“You'll forgive me, I'm sure." she replied, letting her arms fall down to her sides again.

“I'm sure,” Tom agreed as he stood, taking a small step to stand in front of her.

He reached down, taking her hand in his and bringing it to his mouth, brushing his lips over the back of her hand in a soft caress.

“Til the next time,” he said, his voice soft and low, “My lady,” he added with a wink before slipping past her and out the door she'd entered in.

The scent of her lingered like a fog around Tom as he slipped, unseen through the corridors and passages back to the broken window and out in the cold night air. From either side no one would ever know the window was broken and he found himself hoping Mrs Randall wouldn’t be rushing to get it fixed.

He made his way back across the lawns toward his barracks. Tom had been stationed at this stone frigate for 3 months and each and every day he had hoped to get orders from the Vice Admiral they would be going out to sea, to one of the great grey warships he could see from the back of the barracks, sitting in the harbour mouth.

There was no moon in the sky that night and Tom had to make his way back to his quarters by starlight, he hoped the extra darkness would mean less of a chance to be caught out of bed quite so late.

Luck was not on Tom’s side that night and the moment his foot crossed the threshold of his quarters a bright beam of light shone directly into his face, Tom squeezed his eyes shut, bringing his forearm up to shield his eyes from the burning beam.

“Well, well, well Private Bennett,” a cold voice spoke from the darkness, “now, where might you have been?”

Tom lied of course, claiming he’d been in the village having a drink in the local pub, while his Lieutenant Commander didn’t believe him for a moment and he couldn't prove Tom was lying or offer another more plausible explanation for the private being out of bed so late.

Tom’s punishment was being confined to the stone frigate for the next month, he would not be allowed to enjoy any shore leave, which meant no trips to the local village and no chance to chat to the local girls. He would instead be given menial tasks to complete, usually something pointless that no one else wanted to do.

The first weekend of his punishment he was called to the Lieutenant Commander’s office. Tom held a deep dislike for the pinched faced, grey coloured man sitting behind the desk

“They need some help up at The Big House,” the Lieutenant Commander started without preamble, “I seem to recall you being fairly useful with your hands, so I thought you could go up there and, well make yourself useful,” his clipped accent made the hair on the back of Tom’s neck stand up.

Tom nodded in acknowledgement and opened his mouth to speak but the Lieutenant Commander continued as if Tom wasn’t even in the room.

“Report up at The Big House today and tomorrow for your tasks. Ask for Bill,”

“Yes, Sir,” Tom said before saluting and leaving the room.

He took his time making his way up to The Big House, stopping by his bunk first to collect a fresh pack of cigarettes before making his way slowly toward the house. The day was bright and Tom was enjoying the sun on his face as he walked over the immaculately kept lawn. He wondered as he walked if he'd be fixing the very window lock he’d used to break in a few days before, thinking of the window led him to thinking about the lady of the house and he hoped he might run into her again.

He wanted to know what she looked like when she wasn’t wearing jewels and silks. He wanted to see if he could make her laugh, he wanted to know if she made a habit of sharing cigarettes with strangers or hiding from her husband.

At the back door of the house Tom asked a kitchen girl where he might find Bill and was directed to one of the low outbuildings that made up a small courtyard at the back of the house. Bill was a grizzled old man with a voice like tires crunching over gravel and one hand missing.

Bill wasted no time in telling Tom he’d lost the hand during the Great War and how the navy had taken care of him since, not that Tom had asked.

Tom was quickly put to work in a large, empty room on the west side of the house. The room’s ceiling was at least 12 feet high and had floor to ceiling windows that gave a sweeping view of the green valley and glittering open sea beyond. On the water, small boats dashed back and forth across the mouth of the harbour and large grey warships sat further out to sea. Beyond the warship the sea and sky merged into one at the horizon.

After enjoying the view for a moment Tom set to the list of tasks he’d been given, the work was mindless and menial, oiling locks, cleaning and buffing brass work and a few minor repairs.

Tom was winding the grandfather clock at the far end of the room when the double doors at the other end opened, the doors moved almost silently on the hinges he’d oiled but the sudden movement made him look up and he couldn’t stop his face breaking into a grin when he saw who stood between the now open doors.

“We must stop meeting like this."

He watched with rye amusement as Mrs Randall fought the smile that played on the corners of her lips.

“Shall I bother asking you why you’re in my ballroom?” she asked, “Or how you got in here?”

“’m being punished,” Tom replied with a shrug as he closed the door on the grandfather clock that was now ticking merrily, “And I used the back door. You can ask your handy man if you want.”

“And what are you being punished for?”

“Caught out of bed after ligh’s out,”

She laughed quietly, the old floorboards creaking under her feet as she made her way further into the room, letting her feet carry her towards one of the large windows. As she gazed through the glass Tom allowed himself a moment to look at her. The dress she wore today was far more practical and ordinary but the dark green colour suited her, she wore shoes with small heels that tapped on the floor as she walked and no diamonds to be seen.

“I hope you feel it was worth it,” she replied, stopping at the window that gave the most central view of the valley below. She crossed her arms over her chest, curling her palms over the opposite elbow, Tom recognised the gesture from the previous night they’d met.

“I’ve had worse evenings.” Tom replied with a shrug and grin.

“I should apologise,” she started, turning toward Tom, keeping her arms wrapped tightly around her torso, “I spoke out of turn the other night and I don’t want you to think I’m… ungrateful for the position I find myself in."

He shrugged before taking a tentative step toward her, not wanting to scare her into bolting from the room. There was something intoxicating to Tom about being alone with his woman, she should have been as unattainable to him as the moon was but she was right here, in the same room as him, barely 6 feet away.

“We don’t 'ave to like the hand we’re dealt,” Tom said, the softness in his voice surprising even him, “but you can make it up to me with an invite to your next party,” he added with a grin and a wink.

Tom was thrilled when she gave a small chuckle, the sound making the hair on Tom’s forearms prickle and stand to attention. She dropped her arms away from her middle, looking a little more relaxed than she had the moment before.

“Somehow I think my insisting you receive an invitation to the Admirals next do might raise more than a few questions and cause even more trouble,” she replied.

Oh, what’s life without a little bit of trouble?” Tom teased stepping closer again.

“I take it you’re no stranger to trouble then Tom?”.

“No, I’m just a bloody nuisance,” he grinned.

Mrs Randall chuckled again, her eyes moving slowly and shyly over Tom’s face, taking in his features in the bright light of day. In the dark of the study he’d been handsome but in the sunlight filled ballroom he was beautiful, the type of face that Michaelangelo would have immortalised in marble.

“I can believe that,”

Tom leaned casually against a small section of wall that separated two of the windows, the wallpaper was a creamy colour with swirling patterns picked out in pastel shades of gold. He half expected her to reprimand him for leaning his dirty shoulder on her wall but she didn’t comment, just kept her eyes on him.

“What does the lady of the ‘ouse do at the weekend then?” he asked.

“I’m balancing the books today,” she replied, “it’s dull work and I’m dreadful at it,”.

“What no garden party to attend? No invite to Buckin’am Palace?” he teased.

She rolled her eyes and scoffed, her lips turned up into a smile that made her eyes sparkle.

“Just me and the accounts today, Buckingham Palace is next weekend,” she replied with a teasing lilt in her voice.

“‘S’pect those books might be better company than that lot at Buckin’am Palace anyway,”.

“They certainly talk less, but they still manage to give me a headache either way,”.

From behind them the grandfather clock Tom had service chimed 4pm, reminding the pair of them of the world outside the peaceful room they found themselves in.

“I must be going,” Mrs Randle said reluctantly, “It’s been a pleasure to see you again Tom,”.

“Pleasures all mine,” he replied with a wink and was thrilled to see her cheeks staining bright red as she turned toward the still open double doors of the ballroom.

He stared after her for a few seconds once she disappeared from his view and he felt a familiar tingling of anticipation. When it came to women he enjoyed the chase almost as much as he enjoyed his prize at the end but there was something different about this and about her and while Tom had no idea what that might be it excited him all the same. He found it very difficult to return to the list of tasks he still had to complete but forced himself to continue, if for no other reason than to ensure he’d get to return next week.

After excusing herself, Mrs Randle headed to the privacy of her study to continue her mind numbing task of ensuring the household ledgers balanced. The windows of her study offered a panoramic view of the west lawns and the gently sloping valley beyond. In the distance she could see the small houses of the village, smoke curled out of the chimneys and she could just make out a few sailors making their way back to barracks after their Saturday trip to the pub.

After an hour or so of looking over the accounts the numbers in the books seemed to start to wriggle about on the page and no matter how carefully she totted up the totals she couldn’t make the books balance. After rubbing out another incorrect total she finally admitted defeat and slammed the heavy, leather bound book closed and stood up.

She’d already decided to ask the housekeeper to go over the accounts and didn’t see any point in torturing herself with the fruitless task any longer. She knew it would be alright as long as the books were balanced by the end of the month when the Vice Admiral got his hands on them.

She took hold of the book and headed toward the staff quarters; there was a concealed door in the library that took her down a short flight of steps and along a cool, dark corridor to the housekeeper's office.

The sound of excited young voices could be heard from the staff dining room and she slowed to listen to the conversation. There was a pang of jealousy and longing as the voices of two of the young housemaids chattered and giggled behind the door.

“Did y’see him? He was up in the ballroom?” one voice rushed.

“He’s got the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen,” another voice continued with the longing sigh.

“I saw him wink at Mrs Randall! Twice! Can you believe the cheek of him?!” the first voice said incredulously.

“I hope he comes back, I heard Bill saying he wasn’t allowed off the frigate for 3 weeks,” the second voice said in the same dreamy tone.

There was another round of giggling before she stepped away from the door and carried on toward the housekeepers office. Mrs Randall had no problem believing Tom Bennett would be exceptionally successful with the female members of staff, he’s already proved himself to be fairly successful with herself after all.

She knocked briskly on the housekeeper's door, the large book still clutched to her chest with her other arm and her mind full of Tom Bennett.

#tom bennett #world on fire #tom bennett x OC #tom bennett fanfiction #ewanverse #ewan mitchell

46 notes · View notes