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angeli-marco-writes · 4 years ago

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∘◦ ♪ ◦∘ Timothée Chalamet - Concerto ∘◦ ♪ ◦∘

A/N - I wrote and posted this almost a year ago on my Wattpad. My writing has evolved a lot since then, but I’m still proud of this piece, and hope you enjoy it. I do not know Tim, nor do I claim to in any way. This is a work of fiction and entirely my own.

Warnings - smut. Detailed (but protected and consensual) sex, slight BDSM, overstimulation. Cursing. Legal alcohol consumption and smoking. Also 10k words of sickening fluff though, even the smut is fluffy.

Summary - At a classical music concert, the last person you expect to meet is a young man as charming and suave as Timothée. And the last thing you expected is for him to invite you back to his flat. Turns out music really is food for the soul, and other things...

IT’S A FRIDAY EVENING IN NEW YORK CITY. The sun is setting behind the towering silhouettes of undulating buildings all across the city, the moon casting shadows all around au contraire to the luminescence of building lights, beaming all around as well as the street lamps, bringing colour and light to people’s faces in the dark.

You’re standing on the pavement outside Symphony Space Concert Hall on the Upper West Side, people watching. Nothing more or less conspicuous, just observing everyone flooding into the hall, though none of them seem to be under 50 years of age. After checking the time, you take your phone out of the pocket attached to your delicate silk jumpsuit you’re wearing for the night, the one reserved for classy parties and sophisticated concerts only (though very handy). You open the email holding your ticket for the evening, a Poulenc appreciation concert, and you show it to the bouncer who grants you entry to the auditorium.

The room looks incredible. Photos of Francis Poulenc, as well as some old parchment sheets of his music spread out delicately over the usually bare walls. The lights create a perfect ambience in the hall for what's sure to be an incredible evening. The red velvet seats are half full, dotted with people at least twice your age, except from one seat near the front where you can see merely a defined jaw and brown curls. On the stage stands two glossy black grand pianos, slotted beside one another with plush velvet stools and their lids propped up, allowing one to see the inner workings of such wonderful instruments. Behind the pianos are seats enough for an entire orchestra, creating a crescent moon shape. A couple of the seats already have instruments atop them, aching for their owners to play beautiful melodies with them. You make your way down to where your seat is, familiar with the layout of the auditorium. You’re on the right hand side of the centre stalls, third row back, but as you arrive, there’s a boy you saw earlier, not much older than yourself.

“Hi, do you mind if I squeeze past?” You ask him, watching his head jolt up from the programme to reveal a mop of beautiful dark brown curls framing his chiselled face, piercing green eyes with flecks of hazel when the light changed direction. You recognise him, an actor, you simply can’t place him.

His look of incredulity melts into a smile. “Sure.” He says, moving his legs so that you can squeeze past and take your reserved seat on his left. He turns to face you, smiling. He’s wearing a crisp navy suit with a pale blue shirt and a matching tie. He looks well presented, and by his nervous and lopsided smile, you guess that he’s rather nervous to be at the concert alone too. “Timothée.” He tells you, holding his hand out.

You return his gesture, smiling right back at him, and tell him your name. “You here alone?” You ask him, turning in your seat to get a better view. He nods.

“Thought I’d be the only under fifty here.” He laughs, “I’m 24 by the way, but I shan’t ask your name since you're a lady.” You can't help but laugh at this, just a little giggle at how sweet he is, but your interaction is cut short as the lights turn down in the auditorium but shine brighter on the stage, and a full orchestra enters the stage, accompanied by their instruments, two pianists and a conductor. Murmurs in the hall settle down to a faint hum while the musicians tune to the sound of the oboe, and then begin to play.

The music is mesmerising, starting with orchestral pieces with faint piano accompaniment, then just a nocturne for piano, split between the two lead pianists. You could listen to it all night, but an interval has to come. As the lights slowly turn back up, you see an infantile smile on Timothée’s face, as though he’s just watched the most excellent thing in the world.

“Come on,” you say to him, smiling sadly while you tap his knee, “let’s get a drink.”

He reluctantly stands up to follow you out of the auditorium and to the small bar area. You order two margarita’s without consulting him, but he seems grateful as you sit beside each other on a high table, people watching once again.

“What's your job then?” He asks you, making small talk.

“I’m a piano major at Juilliard, teaching piano on the side though.” You respond, and he seems really taken aback. His jaw falls a little slack while his eyes bulge a tad.

“Wow, you must be excellent!” You blush a little at his words, elegantly taking a sip from your drink while he eyes you carefully. You feel awkward under his gaze, though flattered nonetheless. He’s gorgeous, and he’s complimenting you and accepting drinks from you, what a night.

“What about you?” You inquire. He's an actor, you know that, but asking means that you may be able to get some more context and maybe it’ll click where you’ve seen him before. He clears his throat, and you can see some older people walking by who pull faces, judging the pair of you, but you brush them off.

“I’m an actor, mainly small films though.” He says, remaining vague. You don’t push much more, realising that he probably likes not being fawned all over for once, so you simply ask of the favourite names he’s had the honour of working alongside, which must be an uncommonly asked question because a light flickers behind his eyes.

“Selena Gomez, Steve Carell, Armie Hammer, Saoirse Ronan, Emma Watson, Robert Pattinson, Maia Mitchell…” He begins to list, but only when he mentions Maia does it click. You aren't huge into films, but you have seen him in a film with Maia Mitchell and Maika Monroe a few years ago.

“Hot summer nights, right? You were in that?” His cheeks turn a magnificent crimson and he bows his head as though embarrassed. He mumbles something along the lines of ‘not my best performance’, but you disagree. “I think you were wonderful, and did you mention Armie Hammer?” He nods again, seeming a little brighter. You take another sip from your drink, and he follows suit, watching your poised movements.

“Call Me By Your Name.” You nod in recognition, you remember watching the film when it first came out and loving the music from it.

“You’re excellent you know, at piano I mean, and the intimate scenes aren’t half bad either, you make them better.” You say with a teasing smirk on your painted lips, making Timothée’s eyes widen again. You chuckle and grasp his hand, dragging him into the auditorium for the second half.

The second half is a whole concerto, Poulenc’s Concerto For Two Pianos And Orchestra. Ten minutes in, Timothée’s hand finds your thigh and seems very comfortable, so comfortable in fact that you don't dare move it. As the concerto flows further on, his hand slides further up your clothed leg and squeezes your upper thigh a little You tense under his touch, infatuation and lust filling every cell and exiting through your pores, just waiting for more passion to fill your body and make you drunk on the feeling.

When finally the concert ends, both of you stand to applaud the musicians for a solid few minutes, and you could swear you see a tear leaving Timothée’s mysterious eyes and rolling down his heavenly made, painfully defined cheekbones. While you clap, you surreptitiously edge closer together, millimetre by millimetre until you’re hip to hip with elbows nudging. Your head comes up to his chin, making you feel a little small, but you’ll feel even smaller once your heels come off. Once the majority of the audience have filed out, you grasp his hand and pull him through the crowds where you stand on the corner of the pavement, only metres from the venue. You’re reluctant to loosen your grip on his slim hand, as he is with yours.

“Cigarette?” He offers, holding a half full box out to you. You half smile and shake your head in refusal.

“I don’t mind if you do though.” You say, meeting his gaze. “I love the taste of smoke when I kiss someone.” You add in a whisper, leaning up on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. He goes rigid, making you smirk to yourself. This is going to be a good night.

He lights his cigarette and takes slow drag, only looking away to blow the smoke in an opposite direction to you. How respectful, you think, as your stomach fills with butterflies and bubbles with anticipation. He puts it out on top of a bin and throws it away without littering, and just that small and helpful gesture makes you crave his touch, having his fingers trace your sweaty skin and making your body tingle, your back arch with desire and pleasure.

“Wanna get a drink?” You ask, pointing to a nice bar across the road. You’re desperate to sleep with him, but not without pleasantries first. He, however, shakes his head and intricately entwines his fingers with yours.

“I’ll do you one better than a drink.” His smirk sets off a different kind of longing in you, forcing your body to follow him wherever he takes you.

As you walk, he starts conversation, but you’re so breathless from the desperation speed walking that your answers are brief. He asks you why you attended the concert, only to remember that you’re a music student and piano teacher; so in turn, you ask him the same question.

“When I was doing Call Me By Your Name, I had to learn the piano, and while I was learning classical pieces, I kind of just fell in love with classical piano music, I don’t know.”

His nervousness is sweet, making him appear far more humble than anyone of his stature would usually be.

You get to his building after a twenty minute dash in heels, and he pulls you flush against him while entering through the revolving doors, allowing you to lay your weight on him for a moment while you gather your breath. You feel his heartbeat thudding and racing against his ribs, reverberating against your own chest. You turn around to face him and place your hand on his chest.

“Breathe.” You say to him, allowing him to release a long held breathy chuckle. You leave the doors, both laughing, and fervently press the buttons to wait upon a lift. “So,” You then continue, breaking the silence where only your breaths were heard. “Favourite piano piece from the Call Me By Your Name soundtrack?”

“Hallelujah Junction!” You both answer at the same time, just as the lift doors open. You fall into the lift in a fit of giggles, clinging onto each other. You find yourself with your back pressed against the cold metal handle bar in the elevator with Timothée’s face inches away from your own. Your breath mingles together. As soon as he presses the button to his floor, he nudges his nose with your own.

“God, you're so beautiful.” he says seconds before his mouth is pressed hotly against your own, kissing you with an unrivalled passion. Your lips mould and move together like it’s second nature. His one hand holds your waist while both of yours grip his face, feeling a slight stubble.

The lift dings and he drags you out, unlocking his apartment door and leading you inside.

“Welcome to Casa del Timmy.” he says while hugging you from behind, allowing you to get a full view.

His apartment is stunning. Sleek, yet also vintage. Your eyes follow across the perimeter through a door to the left, where he has an office area containing a sleek white desk with a mac and a stack of papers and pens, next to it is a vintage white bookcase stacked as high as possible with novels of all shapes and sizes, and even an indie style rug underneath a colourful modern dining set..

The door next to the office is a kitchen, white countertops with wooden cupboards and a beautiful view of the city out of the window. To the right is a set of glass doors that open onto a small balcony where you can see the whole city, even Manhattan and Brooklyn depending which way you look and how the moon beams down. There’s a closed door right in front of you and through the entry hall and living room which you assume is his bedroom held behind a golden doorknob.

His living room, where you remain standing, holds an array of house plants with a couple of very comfortable looking plush sofas, his TV stand as well as his coffee table look like polished vintage items, refurbished from a flea market maybe, while his book shelf and rug are grand and modern. The best part of all though is a grand piano in an oak wood, matching the wood from his television table, and you become instantly entranced by the instrument that you don’t even notice the velvet stool or the perfectly organised cabinet of music, with a guitar propped up against it.

“Wow.” You breathe. Timothée grips you tighter, trailing kisses across your shoulder and up the side of your neck, inhaling every few seconds to treasure the scent of your perfume. Gardenia, rose champagne, grapefruit, davana; heavenly. You grip his hands with your own, holding them tightly where they’re settled on your tummy. You roll your head against his shoulder to give him better access to kiss you, but he stops abruptly and leads you to the piano stool. He opens the cabinet and pulls out a well loved piece of music.

“I know it’s for two pianos, but let's have some fun.” He says, grinning at you, an infectious smile that you can’t help but return. Hallelujah Junction, first movement. He puts the music out on the piano and takes a seat beside you, your thighs touching and hands overlapping as they begin to glide over the keys.

Playing this piece is second nature to you, allowing you to find your way easily, slipping your fingers between Timothée’s, and the white and black keys. You begin a harmonious melody spanning the whole of the piano, but after only a couple of pages, you realise that its not working as your notes cross over, making it very difficult to play on just one piano. You laugh together, but only for a moment before he is trailing his tongue up your neck, then your lips, and delving inside your mouth. You gasp, moaning into the passionate kiss that he’s giving you, and within seconds you find yourself straddling his lap on the piano stool. You trap his thighs between yours, moving and grinding your hips a little against his to receive more friction where you can feel how needy he is.

Within seconds, he has your legs wrapped around his waist and his teeth on your clavicle. The pleasure makes sounds escape your lips that you didn’t even realise were possible. You knot your ankles as he stands up with one hand around your waist and the other feeling his way around his apartment. After a few funny missteps and close calls of him dropping you while only walking the expanse of his living room, he pins you against his bedroom door, finding your lips again

He gently pokes at your dusty pink bottom lip with his tongue, slipping his tongue back into your mouth, exploring avidly and devouring every taste of you that he can muster. You do the same, but become too infatuated by his taste to put much more passion into it: gin, mint, bergamot and smoke. Smoke, sugar and sin, the most deadly combination of them all, and that's all you can smell on him, making you moan even louder. An erotic moan that makes Timothée twist open the handle to his bedroom door as quickly as is humanly possible.

He as good as throws you onto the bed, but undeniably, it turns you on a lot to see his dominant side this early on into the evening. He doesn't seem like the type to pin you down and boss you around, but as he shuts his bedroom door and delicately takes off his probably very expensive shoes, you can see a glint in his eye, almost as if he’s planning on doing unspeakably pleasurable things to you. Just the thought makes you wetter than before.

As he locks the door and shuts his shoes away, you take a quick look around the room. His bed is nice, comfortable and exquisitely large, like other things you hope. He has a nice colourful throw, vintage looking pillows to match his nightstand, holding only a pillbox, a glass of water, hand sanitiser, and a box of tissues. The simplicity makes you want to laugh, but you restrain yourself. He has a big dresser to match his bedside table with the drawers a little skewwhiff and clothes poking out. His wardrobe is fitted to the wall and by the looks of it, surprisingly neat too. That much cannot be said for his sofa though. A plush, light grey sofa sits on one side of his room just away from the window, and it's covered with clothes. At least he made the bed though, that's more than you can say for most 20-odd year old mans rooms that you’ve been into.

He sheds his blazer and crawls up to where he left you on the bed, needy and craving more. He looks down at you with desperation in his eyes, and you can’t help but to attack his lips, threading one hand in his beautiful dark curls while the other nimbly pulls open his tie and undoes his shirt. You shrug it off his shoulders and run your nails up and down his spine. You feel him shiver beneath his touch while your hands travel all over his body. His shoulders, his biceps, his toned stomach; he’s skinny, but has enough substance to him to be strong and sexy as hell.

“You’ll kill me if you stop.” He whispers, followed by a string of breathy curses. His eyes roll into the back of his head, giving you ample opportunity to grasp his shoulders and slip the pair of you over, pinning him beneath you. His eyes flit all over your face before kissing you again.

“You are so freaking beautiful.” He mumbles between kisses. He slips his hands up to find the zip of your jumpsuit which he slides down crazily fast, only breaking the kiss to shrug it off your shoulders. He just lies in awe, noticing that you don’t have a bra on beneath it. His tongue darts out from between his lips as he examines every undulation of your body, following the swell of your breasts right down to your hips. Your nerves return under his scrutiny, making you want to hide your face, but instead he holds your wrists behind you.

“You never have to cover up,” he says, nothing more or less than genuine love in his eyes, “not for me.”

Despite only meeting him hours ago, you know that you can trust him, so you ungracefully clamber off his lap and lie on your back to shimmy off your burden of a jumpsuit. He practically leaps at the opportunity to worship your body, before him in only your panties. He starts at your ankle, placing feather light kisses all the way from your ankle, up your leg, not minding the slight harshness of your legs, and only stops at your knee joint to switch his lips to his tongue, licking a straight line all the way up your inner thigh, stopping centimetres from where you need him the most. Not through any of this ritual does he break eye contact though. He skips over your panties and only pulls them down a little to trail kisses from your pelvic bone, up past your navel, through the valley of your breasts, and finally back to your lips. He makes you feel things that you could only dream of before meeting him.

“Timothée…” you breathe, hearing his breath hitch in his throat at the way your tongue curls around his name.

You reach between the two of you to his trousers. You undo the belt buckle with ease and push his trousers off his hips and down his thin legs, allowing him to kick them off at the bottom. He seems embarrassed, wearing Y-fronts that make more visible just how much he wants you.

“How about we strip together?” You offer, and Timothée reluctantly nods. He pushes himself off of you and stands up, giving you a hand to stand up as well. He still hasn’t taken his eyes off you since the moment you left the concert hall. “3, 2, 1…”

You both remove your underwear, pushing them down your legs and stepping out of them, only to step closer together so that your chests are flush against one another. He moves his hand up to cup your face, brushing your hair away from your face while tilting your chin up, capturing your lips in a lustful yet also sensual kiss.

He nudges you and your legs hit the bed, making you topple over and break the kiss from a giggle, but he doesn’t seem to mind and only laughs with you, moving your body further onto the mattress. He doesn't go to you again, he just lies beside you and dances his fingers absently down your pubic bone, ghosting circles around your clit.

“Jesus Christ.” You exclaim at the sudden feeling. Timothée kisses your jawline, but adds in between kisses, “Less of that, darling, I’m Jewish.”

You can’t help but laugh at him. You know he’s joking, just trying to mess with you, but as a punishment for laughing, he thrusts two fingers inside you with no warning, making you cry out in a mixture of both pain and overwhelming pleasure.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you, never going deeper than the second knuckle even when you cry out for more. Only when your moans turn to gasps for breath and you’re writhing beneath him does he delve in further and add his thumb to your clit, giving you a more intense orgasm than you’ve ever had before.

You immediately feel blood rushing back to your cheeks, colouring them from embarrassment, but Timothée doesn’t mind. He removes his hand from your core, and makes sure your eyes are fixated on his every movement as he licks his hand clean of all your cum. You’re so turned on that you even reach for his own hand, interlacing all your fingers except for his index one, of which he takes the hint and slips it into your open mouth, allowing your tongue to curl around it, making him groan.

He slips further down the bed and locks his eyes onto yours, you can see different shades of green and hazel in them and a whole world locked behind those beautiful eyes. Slowly, he delves into your heat, licking up everything that his hands missed. His mouth works wonders, sending your mind into a state of mild euphoria. The tip of his nose nudges your clit and you can feel yourself involuntarily gasp, so when Timothée finishes savouring every taste of you that he can get, he harshly bites your sensitive clit for just a moment, stimulating parts of your mind and body that you didn’t know could feel pleasure, let alone pleasure that intense.

He comes back up and kisses your lips, planting his hands in your hair as you kiss him back and get lost in the moment, your tongues dance together in an exploration, an experimentation of passion.

You pull away after a minute or so, gasping for air. Timothée examines your face for a moment, and you find yourself once again losing your thoughts and sanity in his eyes, until you feel the tip of his throbbing cock brush against your bare thigh. You feel bad for how much he’s been neglecting his own levels of desire in order to pleasure you, so you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock. He takes a sharp intake of breath and flutters his eyes closed, his long dark eyelashes twitching alongside his eyelids whenever you grasp harder or pump him.

He’s surprisingly big, causing you to take longer while rubbing your hand up and down his member. Half way down one thrust, you squeeze his cock a little, hearing him whimper a little. The mere sound of him drowns your core in want. You edge your way down the bed and swallow as much of his dick as you can take until his tip hits the back of your throat. He lets out the most sensual guttural groan that you’ve ever heard, his eyes still closed while placing his hand on the back of your head to keep you steady. You bring your head back up to look at him while your tongue swirls his tip, his mouth is parted a little with breathy moans of your name escaping every once in a while, his eyelids switching from being lazily half open to squeezed so tightly shut that they wrinkle a little.

You go back down slowly, inch by inch, hollowing your cheeks. You work your hand in the part of him that won’t fit in your mouth and continue to bob your head up and down. You lick a strip up a vein on the underside of his dick, making him near enough scream your name. With one final bob of your head where you deep throat him, you pull away with plump lips, climbing up his body to straddle his waist. He looks up at you with wide and loving eyes, pulling you down for a sensual kiss.

“Are you clean?” He asks breathlessly, kissing down the hickeys that he’s already littered your skin with.

“Yeah, i got tested after my last break up a few months ago, and I haven’t been with anyone since. Is that because I just…” He nods and you laugh a little, the vibrations from his chuckle rumble throughout your body.

“I did the same, but I’ll still…” You get what he’s saying and climb off him. He flings open the top drawer of his bedside table and after a minute or so of rooting through it he pulls out a condom packet and places it next to his glass of water. You give him a questioning look with your brows knitted together, but Timothée just smiles at you. He slips one slim arm beneath your back and the other under your knee joint before scooping you up and holding you close to his chest.

“Well hey there Timothée.” You say with a chuckle, secretly astonished at how strong he is, because with one arm still holding you, he throws away the decorative pillows and pulls the duvet back, throwing you onto the mattress and leaping on top of you. You smile into his kiss, savouring every second of the feel of his lips pressed hotly against your own, the taste of smoke driving you crazy.

He pulls away and sits up, tearing open the condom packet and grasping his hand sanitiser. He flicks the lid open and squeezes it liberally onto his hands before applying it and rubbing it into yours. “Are you sure?” He asks you, and your urgent kiss to his jawline is followed by a string of fervent reassurances that you are desperate to have him inside you, though you respect that he wants consent and that he wants to be clean. He slips the condom on, his eyes trained on your lips and the way they part from wanting every few seconds. He’s enjoying torturing you and making you wait, the same way that you edged him but denied him orgasm.

He slips the condom on and slowly enters in one smooth stroke. You gasp at the contact, especially how deep he goes with the first thrust, so deep that his pubic bone hits your own. He reaches for the duvet and he pulls it up over his shoulders, covering the pair of you since he can see that you’re shivering a little in the open. He looks for reassurance, but then begins to thrust inside you, holding his weight above you. You can see his biceps tensing while trying to hold his weight up and keep a steady rhythm.

“How about we spice this up?” He suggests, a sly smirk playing on his lips. He cocks an eyebrow, and the sun hits his face at an angelic angle, only making him more beautiful. You nod eagerly to him, only making his smirk grow wider.

“Yes Mr Timothée,” you say, triggering a dominant smirk to relight behind those stunning eyes.

“That's Mr Chalamet to you tonight, Miss.” Words cannot even explain how wet he makes you by saying that, already making your mind want to submit to his every want. You let out a whimper and remove your hands from his hips to lay above your head on the pillows. He joins his fingers around your wrist and proceeds to lay his slender hand flat against your wrists, preventing you from moving.

“Is this okay?” He asks, his movements coming to a halt. You nod and kiss him again. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

He must really enjoy what he’s doing to you. “Yes Mr Chalamet.” You reply, making your eyes as doe like and innocent as possible.

Timothée’s thrusts restart, faster this time. You moan louder, ecstasy filling every inch of your spent body before you’ve even properly begun. His moans are lower, more like groans, all of your name. It sounds heavenly coming from his lips, the way his mouth moves when he says your name just makes it better. His hips hit yours with vigour, adjusting to get a better position where he hits the best spot inside of you.

“There Timothée!” You scream desperately, your back arching on the mattress while your hands fight to break free. Submitting isn’t as easy as you hoped.

“I’m close.” He warns you and frees your wrists, but he doesn’t let your hand go too far. He interlocks his fingers with yours, using one elbow to prop himself up. His thrusts turn sloppy, more fervent, and just as he’s finishing, he digs his thumb into your clit.

Your entire body turns limp, screaming his name in a state of complete euphoria like you’ve never felt before. It travels from your brain to the tips of your fingers, setting a fire in your belly and making your toes curl. Your back arches so far off the bed that your chest becomes pressed against Timothée’s, your breasts moving in time with his breathing. You feel him come to his own climax, silencing his screams by kissing you with more passion than he has before.

You ride out your highs, but the level of pleasure illuminating every nerve ending in your body means that you don’t notice Timothée pulling out and disposing of the condom, you only notice when he flops down beside you on the bed and pulls you closer to his slightly sweaty body. You rest your head on his chest that seems to be glowing in the moonlight from the sheen of sweat. He absently plaits your hair, staring off into the distance. The faint thudding of his heart within his ribs comforts you, it's a little faster than would be normal, making you smile a little.

“How was that?” His hand grips around your shoulder even tighter, pulling you closer to his body. He seems content in simply holding you, maybe he just enjoys cuddling. “Wait, don’t answer that.” He corrects himself, his pupils dilating and his excellent, angelic body going rigid. You chuckle to yourself, drawing circles on his chest with the pad of your forefinger,

“Excellent, Mr Chalamet.” You tease him.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He looks fearful, fretting, it's evident in the sudden sulk of his face, pulling his cheeks and forehead down. You shake your head again, slowly but surely moving your leg to lie over his. Ye inclines his neck to place a gentle kiss to our hairline, and you can feel him smile into it.

“Timothée?”

“Yes beautiful?” Just his simple words make you giggle and blush, such a sweet sentiment from a gorgeous and well meaning man.

“I’m hungry.” You say, feeling slightly embarrassed. He laughs, you feel his body move from it, and he proceeds to pepper your face with the softest and sweetest kisses possible.

“I’ll make us some food, grab any shirt you want and meet me in the kitchen.”

You watch him pull on a pair of grey sweat pants and walk out. His pale hips sway just a little as he walks, and he looks so lanky from where you’re laying on his bed, the covers pulled up around your chest. He kissed your forehead before heading to the kitchen, what kind of a man does that on the first night? He’s a famous actor and the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, let alone a couple of years above yourself. He really knows how to please a girl, your skin rises in tiny goosebumps of pleasure while a shiver shoots down your spine and leaps across your synapses just at the mere thought of what he did to you, by far the best climax you’ve ever had.

You slowly slide out from under his warm, plush covers that smell just like him, only leaving with severe reluctance that melts away as soon as you shrug on the pale blue button down that he wore for the concert. Only a few hours ago you’d met at a concert for old people, already having a common interest that few your age have, yet he’s so eager about classical piano which is so special to you. You fiddle with the buttons, leaving the top few open in hopes of another round - he is making you an almost-midnight feast after all.

You walk out of his room and pad barefoot across his living room floor, only to have a little grey cat come and rub at your feet. You lean down to tickle behind its ears, hearing it meow, and you continue your way too where Timothée has left the kitchen door open for you. He’s standing over the stove with some ingredients laid out on the spotlessly clean countertops. You smile in spite of yourself, running a hand through your messy hair before wrapping your arms around his torso from behind. You place a couple of kisses to his shoulder blades until he turns around and picks you up in one swift movement, sitting you on the counter so that you meet his height.

“It looks better on you.” He whispers, pulling you closer by your bare thighs to plant a kiss on your lips. He’s making you feel things you’ve never experienced before, you can’t wipe the smile off your face for the first time in a while, and he's making you food in the middle of the night after cuddling you.

Dreamboat.

After watching him cook for a while, you slip out of his kitchen and take a seat at his piano. You run your fingers over the smooth wood, it’s well loved but well kept. Then you take a seat on the stool. You can feel where Timothée sits to play, your smile turning a little sad. There’s so much to him that people won’t see because he’s getting famous, but he’s still a person and that’s something that you’re able to experience first-hand.

Eyes closed, you feel for F and Ab with both of your hands. You press the keys down gently, creating the soft blend of notes that is Clair De Lune. You fall lost in the music in a new way, a new feeling washing you with all of tonight's new sensations and sitting at a piano that is neither your own nor at school, it feels somewhat ethereal.

Your fingers glide all across the keys, black to white, flats to sharps, switching between octaves like its second nature. Your mind dances along with the rhythm, your whole mind, soul and being becoming lost in the symphony that you’re creating, one that you haven’t been able to create for a while, and it’s only thanks to Timothée.

You become so absorbed in playing that you don’t notice him leaving the kitchen to listen. He just stands in the doorway, leaning against it with his head lolled a little to the side, completely mesmerised by your movements, your music, and just everything you are. Only when you play the final notes are you alerted of his presence from the creaking of the floorboards beneath his feet. He walks over to you with purpose, a slight grimace on his perfect lips, but he just hugs you. Timothée just holds you close to his chest, allowing you to entwine your arms around his neck and nuzzle your face in his bare chest.

“Stay the night?” He asks, such a simple request but he truly does seem anxious. You want to be genuine, kind, but it’ll be best to relieve the tension.

“You’re making me a late night post-sex feast and giving me your shirt, of course I’m staying the night.” After a moment of silence, he exhales a laugh and node, brushing a curl or two into his face. “Anyway, your cat likes me too, so it’d be a shame to disappoint the little cutie.”

After only a few minutes, you find yourself back in bed with Timothée. He’s carrying a tray full of food that looks and smells gorgeous, followed by his cat who decides to dance between his legs. He serves you a strangely shaped piece of an odd looking pizza, though it still looks excellent, and it has some perfectly cooked and seasoned vegetables next to it on a white plate.

“What is this?” You ask him as kindly as possible.

“Flammekueche with some vegetables. It’s a French pizza with crème fraiche and bacon. My dad makes it all the time and always gives me some that I just freeze and reheat. I can only make microwave meals and vegetables, so this isn’t bad for me.” The way he explains it makes him so endearing, and even makes the food seem more than enticing. “You’re not allergic to anything are you? Or vegetarian?” You shake your head with a smile, kissing him and thanking him for the meal even though he won’t let you touch it before you sanitise your hands.

You talk the whole while that you eat, learning little things about his favourite books and his family. His favourite book just happens to be Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald, a book you both know and love, and Timothee has a Jewish mother, a French father, an older sister, and he grew up in the city. You however are from out of the city with an exceptionally normal family, and your favourite book is Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. He seems to be growing fond of you, wiping the pizza sauce from your lip, followed by a kiss each time.

He places your plates on the floor as soon as you finish, snatching at the speed of light for some hand sanitiser, lube and another condom. You more than happily oblige with all of his steps and strip off his shirt, kissing the living daylights out of him before he’s even slotted the condom on. He kisses you back with equal fervour nonetheless, exploring your whole mouth with the tip of his tongue. He cautiously adds some lube to the sides of the condom and slips into you while you’re still atop him. You moan at the penetration, arching your body forwards and hereby giving Timothée a full view of your breasts and the way they bounce with his every thrust inside you.

You moan pornographically at his slow and passionate movements upwards and deep inside you, finding your special spot within moments. He settles his hands upon your hips, squeezing them and guiding your every movement. You ride him just the way he wants you to, you can see it in his eyes. He looks at you like a teenage boy would at a naked supermodel, of which you are only naked and most definitely not a supermodel, despite him treating you like one, and Timothée is thankfully older than a teenage boy yearning for sex.

“You look so fucking brilliant.” He tells you, admiring the way that your face contorts with pleasure while taking every inch of him.

You rhythmically grind your hips against him, swirling them occasionally just to hear him cry out. Nothing is a hinderance from you going faster, but this sex isn’t needing to be urgent to be satisfying. He squeezes your hips harder and you decides to move up a little further, bouncing back down on him as he becomes buried to the hilt in your desperate core. You do it again, engulfing him anew and moaning his name continually from the mix of friction and pleasure that’s sending you into another euphoria, but not enough to release again just yet.

Timothée still hasn’t taken his eyes off you, namely your breasts where he’s currently focussed, eyes trained on your hardened nipples - partly from not wearing a shirt and partly from Timothée’s ministrations. He leans up and captures your left nipple in his mouth, sucking and kissing and swirling his tongue around you in the most divine way possible. He moves his hands away from your hips too, allowing you to grind your hips on his in any way that you like. His one hand moves to your other breast, tweaking and pulling at your right peak and sending sensations through your body that you’d never realised could be real before; while his other slips to the rounds of your ass, squeezing delectably.

“Mr Chalamet, p-please,” you find yourself begging, leaning down while still riding him, his torture on your breasts never ceasing, not even when he thrusts his hips up one final time, allowing your core to devour him whole and sending you into your third otherworldly climax of the night.

“Timothée!” You scream, your climax pouring out of you. You feel him come too, and you hear him cry out your name like a blessing.

He doesn’t pressure you, he just waits until you’re able to clamber off him with as minimal pain and exhaustion as possible, though you do whine at the loss of contact as you lie beside him, his arms securely around you and holding you as close to him as possible. It doesn’t matter that you’re both sweaty or spent, it just feels special.

“Look at that, done before 1am.” He chides, cuddling into you. You laugh a little at him, especially his humour, but it is rather remarkable.

“Two rounds, a meal, and a concert. Can’t speak for you, but I’m knackered.” He smiles at you sleepily, passing you the shirt that you wore earlier. You shrug it on and do it up while Timothée puts his joggers back on and draws the curtains, leaving the two of you in dark for the most part. You lie further down, still close to his thin chest, you hear his breathing rattle a little, but it's soothing.

“Night beautiful.” Is the last thing you hear before falling asleep in his arms.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

The only issue about sleeping with Timothée is that you forget it's a Saturday morning, and on Saturdays, you have to work. Your phone alarm starts to go off at 7.15 precisely, which when you’re home, gives you enough chance to get ready for teaching in a calm manner so that you aren’t already angry before teaching little children how to play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Today however, that is not the case.

Timothée sleeps through it somehow, but your eyes are shocked wide awake, causing you to leap from the comfort and warmth of his bed and cuddles just to crawl on the floor in search of your phone and where it fell last night. You find it next to his door somehow, and switch the alarm off immediately, propping yourself up against the door to release a long held breath and to watch the sun rise through his windows. He looks so beautiful asleep, his lips parted slightly, soft snores escaping every so often, dark eyebrows furrowed and his mop of curls haphazardly lying around him like a halo. The morning glow makes his cheekbones appear even more defined.

You want to gather your belongings without waking him, get dressed and catch a cab back to your flat, but just as you go to open his door, he stirs.

“Where do you think you’re going beautiful? Come back to bed, I’m keeping you here with me forever.” You know he’s joking, and his words melt your heart and inhibitions a little, but you can’t justify staying

“I have to work, my first student is at 9.30.” You say, walking across to stand beside his bed and brush some hair off his forehead, kissing him and your lips lingering on his sweaty skin a little longer than they probably should have.

“And? I’ll drive you home in time, if you live near Juilliard then I know a shortcut. Just come back.” He's virtually pleading, puppy eyes and quivering lip just to add to the effect, and you simply can’t say no when he looks so perfect. You place your things on the floor by the bed and slip beside him, allowing your eyes to flutter shut just a moment longer.

His finger traces your naked body beneath the shirt, focussing on the bruises he left on your hips and the marks on your neck. Just his touch is enough to take control of your body, to give you goosebumps, to electrify every feeling of love and lust held within.

“Can I use your shower please?” You ask him, and he nods, placing his chin atop your head.

“I’ll take you to my bathroom and then I’ll make you breakfast. Grab whatever clothing you want from my room, but you can’t leave this bed until you agree to dinner with me tonight.”

Your heart rate increases tenfold at his gesture, and you want to take a leap of faith and say yes straight away, but that would be playing your cards too quickly. “We’ll see.” You respond sultrily, making your way to leave, but his strong grip pulls you flush against him with no space to move. You can hear him laughing in your ear.

“Say yes to dinner and then you can leave.” He slips his hands further down your front without losing his grip and decides to toy with your clit as though it’ll get you to talk.

“Y-yes! God, Timothée, of course I’ll go to dinner with you, just don’t stop!” You find it impossible to understand the shockwaves of pleasure pulsating and electrifying your every sense from an action as simple as the pads of his fore and middle fingers twisting and pressing your sensitive clit. It’s so incredible that after the previous night, it feels like overstimulation, and you can’t get enough.

“I’ll never stop.” He murmurs gruffly into your ear, you can hear the hoarseness that smoking causes but god it sounds and tastes so good.

He pulls your body closer and rolls you over. “Hey baby.” You say as calmly as you can, but within seconds you find yourself sitting on his face, half of his stunning bone structure lost beneath you. He delves his tongue into your already dripping heat, licking as far as he can get and only pulling away to kiss and suckle at your clit.

“Let me come Mr Chalamet!” You cry out, and with one final swipe of his tongue around your core and a squeeze of your ass, you let go. Timothée licks you clean while you still chant his name, and he proceeds to pick you up in order to carry you to the bathroom. You settle your heels at the base of his spine, digging in a little, and his arms tense beneath your ass from the manner he carries you. You like being above him, able to trace every line and bit of stubble on his face with your focussed eyes that he stares so deeply into at any given chance.

“Don’t be too long or I’ll be tempted to join you.”

You slowly cross the threshold of the bathroom, winking at him as you close the door. He inaudibly groans, but you can tell from his facial expression and the tension in his joggers that make him look utterly sexy. You slowly unbutton his shirt, reluctant to take it off, but when you step under the warm jet of his shower, that reluctance washes away along with any inhibitions you may have had about Timothée. He’s an angel: clean, respectful, enjoys classical music, has a cat, isn’t a cocky dickhead, and he’s literally the most gorgeous human being that you’ve ever laid eyes on.

You run your fingers through your hair, standing directly beneath his showerhead. The steam clouds your vision, but you can hear Timothée singing while he cooks, Mystery of Love. What a dork, you think, chuckling to yourself while you rinse Tim’s shower gel from your body, and you just know that after this you’ll smell like him, but he smells delectable. As the water hits the most sensitive parts of your body, you remember the previous night. Just the thought of what he did to you makes you crave his touch again.

Through the bathroom window, you can make out the New York traffic that builds every morning, accompanied by the screeching of tires and sirens and car horns. Despite it being a ruckus, it's soothing as you step out the shower and wrap yourself in one of Timothée’s fluffy towels.

“How do you look so sexy when you’re getting out of the shower? God, I can't stress it enough, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve seen in my life, even without any makeup and with your hair un-styled, just wrapped in my Goddamn towel. You’re gonna be mine, mark my words.” You feel tears come to your eyes at his kind words, watching him purposefully walk from the kitchen and all the way across his apartment just to place his hands on your waist and tell you how beautiful you are. Those words are better than a concerto to you.

Once you’ve finished getting dry in his bedroom, you ferret through his drawers until you pull out a white top with various tie dye patterns across it. It’s cute, very Timothée. You pull it on and it reaches your mid thighs, making it clock in your head just how much of a lanky lad he is. You bundle together your stuff and head out of his room, closing the door behind you and greeting him with a kiss. He sits you at the breakfast bar and serves you a proper cooked breakfast: bacon, scrambled eggs, and pancakes.

“There's ketchup and syrup in the cupboard if you’d like.” He offers, sidling up on the seat beside you, nudging the tip of your nose with his thumb. The smile hasn’t left your face since you met him.

“This is good, you’re an excellent cook.” You tell him, resting your hand on his. His cheeks glow an even brighter red in the cascading morning sunlight, dappled by his blinds, but he looks magnificent despite his embarrassment.

You take out your phone, just to take a picture of the breakfast while it’s still untouched, and of your hand held by Timothée’s, already wearing rings. You notice that he’s already wearing a silver chain too, and a couple of bracelets on the wrist away from your own, which you find unusually attractive.

“I wish you could stay all day.” he whispers, placing his forehead on yours.

“Me too.” you say softly, smiling sadly and caressing his cheek.

You finish your breakfast and make your way to the living room in a strange kind of waltz orchestrated by Timothée. He insists on holding your waist and turning around a little, moving your feet in sync until you yank him down onto the sofa, catching his lips mid sigh which leads to a much more passionate make out session than you anticipated. Once that’s over, he plaits your hair beautifully, explaining how it used to calm his sister down before an audition. By the time he’s finished a very good pair of plaits, you check the time and it’s already 9, time for you to leave with NYC traffic, but Tim won’t let you go.

“Not without a photo.” He insists, but you question his reasons. Who would want a photo of you with wet hair in plaits, an oversized tee-shirt and a bare face? But his answer is too sweet to refuse. “I like taking pictures of beautiful things, and of which, you are the most beautiful.” Your cheeks flush a raging scarlet, and Timothée takes your few moments of silence as the perfect opportunity to take a picture of you, sunlight hitting your face in all the right places, and he takes another for good measure, his hand on your cheek and his lips on yours, a kiss that shuts you up for good.

He takes you down the stairs right to the garage where he keeps his car, and surprisingly, it’s an understated car, not crazily extortionate nor flashy, something which you respect highly. He sits you in the passenger side, making sure to kiss you before closing the door, and he gets in the driver's side. After starting the engine and leaving the parking lot, he lays his palm flat against your thigh and keeps it there the whole drive while you change gears for him. You tell him all about your childhood, your high school, your time in uni while he tells you his life at a performing arts high school and then his life as an actor, he truly fascinates you.

Once he pulls up outside your building, he tries to convince you to let him come in, or at least walk you to your door, but on the grounds of not scaring the life out of your neighbours and students, you say no with a promise to see him later.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard tonight that you won’t be able to walk.” He says, pulling you in for a final passionate kiss before you step out of the car. He made you wet just before you have to work, you’ll get him back later, but the revenge melts as soon as he leans out the window to blow you a kiss and tell you how stunning you are.

You’re so lost in your trance of Timothée that you don’t notice your first student tapping you on the shoulder and excitedly saying “Was that the Timothée Chalamet?”

You chuckle to yourself, watching him drive off into traffic, all for you. “Yes it was love, yes it was.”

#timothee chalamet #concerto #timmy t #chalamet #tim chalamet #timothee chalamet smut #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet fluff #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee smut #timothee fluff #timothee imagine

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uselessroyals · 2 years ago

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yr fanfic reccs - 1 year anniversary editions

I have only been in the fandom for a couple of months, but it's been so much fun, i love our little community and i love all the art and of course the fanfics. which i have read quite a lot of SO here is a little list of some of my favourites that i think people should definitely check out! All of these also exist in a google docs here, if that's easier to see. so, without further ado, i present, the list:

Oneshots

"let's start a revolution" by huojuvuus

G, 1k words, What if, Wilhelm admitted it was him in the video, Fluff

"eyes full of stars" by buttercupkisses

G, 3k words, What if, Erik surprises Wilhelm at the parent’s lunch and meets Simon, Fluff

"grin" by but_at_least_i_have_an_iced_coffee

T, 2.1k words, What if, Erik fell into a coma instead of dying and now he's awake, but knows nothing about the sex scandal or Simon or Wilhelm's less-than-straightness, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

"Show me how (you care)" by orphan_account

T, 3.1k words, Season 1, Retelling from Simon's pov, Introspection, Hurt/Comfort

"a baby heart attack, if you will" by paldogangsaan

T, 9.7k words, Pre-canon, Wilhelm’s mother sets him up with a respectable rich girl who just happens to make a deal with Wilhelm to give the queen of Sweden a “non-lethal heart attack.” (For legal reasons, that is a joke), WLW/MLM solidarity, Fake Dating, Humor, Hurt/Comfort

"The worst things in life come free to us" by ageminiheart

NR, Chose not to use warnings, 2.5k words, Season 1, Episode 5, Simon’s pov of Lucia night, Angst

“i wonder how you view me” by peonyseas

T, 3.1k words, Season 1, Episode 1 and 2, Simon’s pov of the events leading up to their first kiss, Fluff

“breathe in” by rainingover

T, 2.5k words, Season 1, The morning after, Simon and Wilhelm talk about how they got here, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

“she didn’t tell me to stop” by fishscalesky

M, 1.6k words, Season 1, Wilhelm struggles with self harm, Hurt/Comfort

"we could call it even" by loyaulte_me_lie

T, 12.7k words, Post season 1, eight years after the fact, Simon and Wilhelm fall back into each other’s orbits, this time everything goes right, Angst, Fluff

"the revolution will not be televised (but it will be put on instagram)" by pissedofsandwich

T, 17.9k words, Post season 1, Simon deals with the immediate aftermath of Wilhelm's denial, Felice and Wilhelm concoct a juvenile plan to get the invasive press off Simon's back, Angst, Humor, Hurt/Comfort

"worst kept secret in history" by toffeelemon

G, 10k words, Post season 1, Wilhelm decides to say fuck what people think and fix his relationship with Simon, Fluff

"you're everything i have (and i don't think i've had enough)" by storyoftucks

G, 2.1k words, Post season 1, Wilhelm bumps into Simon at a party and they finally get the chance to talk about them and their relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

"This Boy" by fandom_commitment_issues

T, Underage, 10.3k words, Post season 1, Wilhelm comes home for Christmas and Kristina invites his friend from his old school over, Hurt/Comfort

"Let Me Go" by paspeurpasseul

T, Chose not to use warnings, 2.6k words, Post season 1, Wilhelm and Simon talk for the first time since Christmas break, it's harder than Wilhelm thought it would be to see Simon smile again, especially when that smile isn't directed at him, Angst

"forget me not" by spa_ghetto

T, 6.7k words, Post canon, Simon hits his head and gets temporary amnesia, Established relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

"Dandelions" by willehelms

G, Chose not to use warnings, 1.4k words, Post canon, Wilhelm is tipsy and in love, Established relationship, Fluff

“was it worth it?” by hannakin

NR, Major Character Death, 8.5k words, Post season 1, in the years following the whole nation witnesses the Crown Prince’s downfall, Angst

“slide tackle” by pulses

T, 5.2k words, Post season 1, The last time Wilhelm ever spoke to his brother, Erik had laughed at him and said, “just pretend you're someone else”, for what it's worth: he'd tried, Introspection, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

"only fools rush in" by toffeelemon

G, 22.3k words, Hillerska AU, It actually wasn’t Wilhelm in the video and Simon and Wilhelm are best friends, Friends to lovers, Slow burn, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

"and they were roommates" by toffeelemon

M, Underage, 28.5k words, Hillerska AU, Simon is a boarder and he and Wilhelm are roommates, Friends to lovers, Angst, Fluff

“Summer ‘68” by Lizzie_Morgenstern

T, 3.2k words, 60’s AU, A chance meeting during an engagement in England leads to Prince Wilhelm of Sweden getting high, confronting some inner fears, and thinking a little too much about a kimono-wearing, golden-skinned boy, Fluff

“oh christmas tree” by Elin98

NR, 6.7k words, AU, Wilhelm doesn’t go to Hillerska, he knocks a christmas tree into Simon’s head at the Hillerska choir’s christmas concert, Fluff, Humor

“opening hours? never heard of them” by Elin98

T, Chose not to use warnings, 11.2k words, AU, Simon works at the local corner shop, Wilhelm is that annoying customer that stumbles in just as he's about to close, much to Simon's dismay, for some reason the prince keeps coming back, Humor, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

“5 times the students of Hillerska didn’t realize Wille and Simon were together + 1 time they definitely did” by Piebingo

T, Underage, 8.4k words, Hillerska AU, As the title suggest, Oblivious classmates, Humor, Fluff

Multichaps

“Other people’s secrets” by Sflow

M, Chose not to use warnings, 238.5k words, 33/33 chpt, Season 1 + Post season 1, In the last weeks before Christmas, Henry learns a few things he isn’t meant to know, makes amends with Simon, and gets caught between conflicting loyalties. In the spring, those lessons bring unexpected outcomes for him and his friends, old and new, Plot, Redemption arc, Scheming, Hurt/Comfort, Slow burn, Friends to lovers, Fluff

“5 times Linda was a good mom to Wille + 1 time Kristina was a good mom” by Piebingo

T, Underage, 20.4k words, 6/6 chpt, Season 1, As the title suggest, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

“You are real, and I am real” by yrbby

T, Major character death, 77.2k words, 10/10 chpt, Season 1, Simon goes back to find Wilhelm after he finds out about his brother’s death and grief helps their relationship grow, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

"We should just kiss (like real people do)" by sofia_with_an_f

M, Underage, 30.9k words, 15/? chpt, Post season 1, character study of Wilhelm, Introspection, Angst

"international relations" by spa_ghetto

T, 21.7k words, 5/5 chpt, RWRB crossover, Post season 1, Simon runs into Alex Claremont-Diaz on the bus and they become friends, Humor, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

"Put Me Back Together and Take My Heart" by notalotgoingonatthisinstant

M, 49.5k words, 10/10 chpt, Post season 1, Simon gets a serious head injury and it might be the last straw for Wilhelm to gather the courage to blackmail his mother, Angst, Plot, Hurt/Comfort

"my kingdom come undone" by tennisfangirl

M, Chose not to use warnings, 9.2k words, 3/3 chpt, Post season 1, Wilhelm goes looking for salvation at the bottom of a bottle, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

"call me back" by paldogangsaan

M, Chose not to use warnings, 15.8k words, 6/6 chpt, Post season 1, Wilhelm attempts, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

"Answer Me This" by BishopRose

T, 10.2k words, series, 2 works, Post season 1, What if Wilhelm and Simon both eventually moved on, heartbroken, but never really stopped thinking about what could have been? What if they thought they’d never see each other again... until suddenly, years later, Fate stepped in, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

“if hurting wounds could mend (never left that place inside my head)” by Lire_Casander

T, 29k words, 36/36 chpt, Post season 1, Wilhelm gets in a car accident and Kristina figures out how to be a mother again, Introspection, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

“Chosen Family” and “Get What You Deserve” by QueenKatelynTheAristocrat

T, 17.3k words, series: 2 works, RWRB crossover, Post season 1, After the video is leaked to the public, Wilhelm calls his cousin Prince Henry of Wales for help, Henry and Alex proceed to drop everything for a trip to Sweden to rescue him, Hurt/Comfort

“my favorite crime” by numinousliebe

G, 9.7k words, 3/3 chpt, Post season 1, There’s nothing that matters, once Simon is there, right in front of him, nothing else, nobody exists. He wishes Simon was here right now, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

“Make Me Feel Something” by photographer_of_thoughts

M, 25.8k words, 8/8 chpt, Post season 1, The boys have to go through a whole lot of hurt and healing before they can find their way back to each other, Angst, Depression, Hurt/Comfort

“it takes a fool (but we both are so it’s okay)” by cl0udy_mi1k

T, Underage, 33.9k words, series, 3 works, Post season 1, Between Christmas and New Years, Simon's friends tell him to check instagram, Fluff

“My Baby’s Dancing (With Another Man)” by Wilmonskiss

G, 2.7k words, 2/2 chpt, Post season 1, A new student at Hillerska who shares Simon's ideals, and a jealous Wilhelm at an end of year dance at Hillerska, Angst, Fluff

“on-campus” by spa_ghetto

T, 70.8k words, 27/27 chpt, Post season 1, After the Christmas break Simon and Sara come back to Hillerska as boarders, Wilhelm tries to figure out why this feels off, Plot, Slow burn, Scheming, Hurt/Comfort

"call me up late" by royalwilmon

T, 29.1k words, 20/20 chpt, Texting AU, Simon gets the wrong number from a classmate and accidentally texts Wilhelm instead, Hidden identity, Fluff, Humor

"only fools remain sane" by Elin98

NR, Chose not to use warnings, 40.5k words, 11/11 chpt, Hillerska AU, Wilhelm convinces Simon that they should fake date to see if the Crown's recent announcement of accepting same-sex relationships is legit or just for show, Fake dating, Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

"did you see the love in my eyes, oh were you gazing through this disguise?" by millie_cheesesteak

M, 60.5k words, 11/12 chpt, Hillerska AU, Simon's toxic ex starts at hillerska and Wilhelm decides to help simon show him that he's moved on, Roommates, Fake dating, Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

"A Royal Intervention" by AnxiousAnaconda

T, 17.8k words, 8/8 chpt, AU, Erik doesn’t die, and he is a slightly overprotective older brother, Plot, Hurt/Comfort

"the way you look at me" by strummerjoe

T, 33.7k words, 13/13 chpt, University AU, Simon didn’t go to Hillerska, him and Wilhelm are roommates at university, Friends to lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

"and each slow dusk" by loyaulte_me_lie

M, Graphic violence, 48.5k words, 3/3 chpt, AU, two months after Wilhelm’s arrival at Hillerska, war breaks out, when his and Erik's last-ditch attempt to leave the country goes badly wrong, he ends up stuck in Bjärstad - with Simon, Plot, Politics, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

“home is where I want to be (but I guess I’m already there)” by millie_cheesesteak

M, Chose not to use warnings, 19.4k words, 5/5 chpt, University AU, Wilhelm gets sent to a University in Wisconsin after the fight, Simon is the cute classmate who works in the local coffee shop, Hidden Identity, Fluff

#this is just the thing that i do #find fanfics #young royals fanfiction #young royals fanfic #young royals fanfic reccomendations #young royals #young royals ao3 #young royals season 1 #young royals season 2 #demeter's rambles

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serenityseventeen · 3 years ago

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♪ The Last Day of Summer With You

The8/Xu Minghao/Seo Myungho: Snapshots and Flower Crowns

There was a click, a flash of light, and a snap.

“What are you doing?” You asked, looking up from your in-the-making flower crown that was rather messy than cute and elegant to your boyfriend, Minghao, who was holding a camera that was strapped around his shoulders.

The petals of the flowers were slowly falling from the crown in your hands. You thought that you had mastered flower crown making after watching a tutorial on YouTube and testing out your skills a few times with dandelions from your front lawn, but now that you had picked up a beautiful variety of flowers from this flower field, you had realized that it wasn't so easy, since the flowers were delicate.

Minghao walked over to sit beside you, who was sitting on a wooden bench with the flowery field in front of you, trying to make a flower crown. He smiled softly.

“You look beautiful when you're focused. Plus, the sunset kissing your face is gorgeous on camera,” Minghao said, looking at the photos he took with his camera. You chortled, flattered by his sweet words as you continued working on the flower crown with care.

Minghao sat down and picked up one of the sunflowers you picked from the field. He checked it for bugs and when he determined that it was clean, he slowly poked it in between your hair and ear. The sunflower was a bright yellow and just the right size, not too big that it overshadowed your face, but not too small that it can't be seen from far away. It was just in the middle, allowing your beauty to dazzle without outshining you.

“It's pretty,” Minghao said, gazing at you lovingly, admiring your beauty that matched well with the sunset.

“What do you mean? I think the dandelion flower crown I made yesterday looked much better than this. I think I should add more of the pink flowers to add a bit of balance, don't you think?” You still didn't look up from your flower crown.

Minghao giggled. “That's not what I was talking about but I guess a bit more pink wouldn't hurt. How are you going to add it? The crown seems almost done.”

“I'll just have to make it fit in between!” You replied, glancing at him with a pure, child-like smile while grabbing some small budding while flowers that were resting on the bench in between you and him.

Minghao couldn't help but smile. He didn't know that the last day of summer could be so special until he met you, who had only made him feel ecstatic as if the last day of summer was a holiday.

It wasn't just the last day of summer, every day felt like a holiday because you were in it, filling his days with your bright rays of light, and comforting smiles.

After finishing your floral crown, you smiled and turned to Minghao, about to put it on his head, but what caught you by surprise was that he had been gazing at you and taking pictures of you from the side. He just had this ‘drunk in love’ look in his dreamy eyes that made your heart melt.

A few birds passed by overhead and when they gawked while passing by, you let out a soft chuckle. “Have you been taking pictures of me this whole time?”

“Yeah, you're just so beautiful.”

Your heart gushed over that remark and you couldn't help but cover your face shyly. “What's with you today? Why are you sweet?”

Minghao giggled softly, leaning a bit closer to you. “I just want to be. I want to see you smile like that.”

“Oh, whatever! You're killing me here!” You replied, unable to stop yourself from grinning ear-to-ear.

You took off Minghao's camera and gently placed the flower crown on top of his head, brushing his hair out of his face, carefully styling him. Minghao only smiled while looking at you, which led to you getting partially distracted while fixing the crown on him.

“I think it looks beautiful on you!” You exclaimed. “Go over there, right in front of the sunset, and I'll snap a photo!”

Minghao did what you asked and posed in the middle of the flower field. There were a variety of flowers, tall swaying grass, and from time to time, a butterfly would pass by, getting caught in the photo as well. You enthusiastically switched angles, acted like a professional photographer, and took photos, but you knew that they wouldn't turn out that great.

“Are you done?” Minghao asked. He was sitting on the bench, still wearing the flower crown you made and posing with a sunflower in his hand.

You nodded. “I may not be a very good photographer but I'm sure at least 5 of them look good.”

Minghao walked up to you to check the photos and upon viewing them, he chuckled. “You're worse than me at photography but I won't delete a single photo.”

You smiled as Minghao took the camera. He fixed the flower in your hair and smiled.

“Now let's take photos together.”

He slipped his hand into yours and placed the camera on the bench, it had a 10-second countdown. Without any time to prepare, Minghao dragged you into the flower field.

“Get ready for the picture~” Minghao said softly, turning toward you, your hands still clasped together.

“Prepare!? Hao, you should have told me-”

Before you could finish, the light from the camera flashed, and Minghao leaned in, letting the camera capture a breathtakingly romantic photo of you and Minghao. With the sunset behind you two, a flower crown on his head, and a flower in your hair, you two shared a kiss on the last day of summer.

Even after the moment was captured, Minghao didn't take his lips away, which made you giggle in between the kiss. Now smiling and giggling in between kisses, Minghao wrapped his hands around you and pulled you in for a hug.

“Shouldn't we take more pictures?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his back.

“After.”

“August is coming to an end, we don't have a lot of time, plus, what if the flowers begin wilting?” You replied, pressing your head against his chest. The wind blew softly, making the tall grass sway along, like slow dancing to a sweet melody sung by the birds.

“Well, that's okay,” Minghao said after a moment of silence. He held you a bit tighter, smiling heart-flutteringly.

“What's the rush?” His voice was so calm as he patted your head and gave you a soft kiss on your forehead. He brought his hands to caress your cheeks gently.

“We still have next summer.”

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

a/n: this one is a bit shorter than the others but I really do love it...❤️ + I got a medical check-up today and the woman who took my weight got it wrong and mistakenly added a +10 so now I'm stated as 122 pounds lol; she also put my brother's height as 5'6 instead of 5'8 so it's stated that he shrunk lol. I think she was just really tired. + The Dino fic I'm writing is getting out of hand- I don't know how it got to become 6k words & I'm not even done with it yet 😭 with all of the events I planned for it, I think it'll reach 8-10k, I don't think I've written something this long before... Long fics for me are rather rare 😖😖

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danishmiilk · 4 years ago

Text

when thunder splits the sky - na jaemin

au || royalty!au, soulmates!au

genre || angst, fluff, slight crack

warnings || swearing, death mentioned, almost deathly sickness, a lot of stress on jaemin and y/n’s part, throwing up.

summary || soulmates. the source of happiness, the source of sickness. you’re shocked that your best friend (and the second prince) is your soulmate, but it shouldn’t be too bad. after all, you’re best friends, right? you know each other better than anyone else in the world. but when jaemin refuses to realise his love, shit hits the fan.

word count || ~10k

note || this is a collaboration piece with @astroboy-lele for @k-dinernet‘s dance off event!

you and jaemin were close, closer than a commoner and a prince should be. but since you were the main cook’s daughter, it wasn’t too uncommon to see the two of you running around with bright smiles lighting up your faces. then studies took over for jaemin. he was constantly studying to become a better king than his dad, which was slightly unfair since he wasn’t even the crown prince. but accidents could happen, so jaemin had to be prepared. so you were left to your own devices most of the time, fiddling with things in the kitchen, or helping clean the monstrous castle jaemin called home.

“jaem!” you giggled happily when jaemin emerged from the library’s study. he looked tired. more tired than a 17 year old should be. dark circles contrasted his pale skin, and your hand automatically came up to rub at his slim cheeks. “you should get more rest.” you chided him.

“can’t.” jaemin responded curtly, removing your hands from his face. “i need to study.”

"but you're always studying," you sighed. it shouldn't be this hard to spend time with your best friend, but you supposed it was one of the cons of befriending the second prince of your kingdom.

"you don't understand, y/n! how could you? it's my duty to my family and my country to keep studying in case, heaven forbid, anything happens to doyoung hyung!" he snapped sharply at you, and though you knew he was clearly overstretched and stressed beyond anything you'd ever seen him (or didn't see him, he was always in the library nowadays anyway), you still took a step back and flinched away, hurt. jaemin stepped forward, mouth trying to form apologies. you shook your head, eyes glassy.

“don’t.” your voice was softer than expected. “i’ll.. i’ll leave you to it.” you ran off before jaemin could even react, wiping at your eyes.

jaemin watched you go. he watched you leave, back retreating into the dark hallways. he felt bad, of course he did - jaemin would never snap at you for no good reason. the last time he actually wanted to hurt someone was when you came to him sobbing, one year ago. the memory was still fresh in jaemin’s mind.

you supposed it could be you being too sensitive, but it was the toll the absence of jaemin took on you. sure, absence made the heart grow fonder, but it also did make cracks emerge in a friendship. you couldn’t see your cracks yet, but they’d emerge soon enough - it was the first time in so long you’d managed to talk to jaemin, and he’d just brushed you away brusquely. your hand raised to your eyes to wipe away the stray tears that had fallen.

without looking where you were running, you’d bumped into something very solid. something very human. roughly, you placed your hands on said solid thing and pushed yourself away, speeding around the obstacle to the forest, tears still filling up your eyes. you didn’t blink them back - if you’d blinked, they were sure to have fallen out.

“y/n?” the very confused crown prince shouted out from somewhere behind you, “what’s going on?” and unbeknownst to you, his brother was soon to follow, brushing past him like he was invisible (last he checked, he wasn’t.) “jaemin?” the pair of you had left long before there was a chance to provide the prince with any of his requested answers, leaving a very confused doyoung standing in the middle of the hallway. sighing, doyoung brushed off his clothes. sometimes he didn’t know what he put up with you for.

once you set foot into the forest, immediate regret almost washed over you. it started raining. not gently either, it came down in harsh droplets, hammering into your clothes, thoroughly soaking you to the bone. you shivered, rubbing your hands up and down your arms, trying to bring warmth to yourself. it didn’t work, so you settled with standing under a tree in an attempt to stay out of the storm. you gazed up at the sky, wincing as thunder rumbled in the distance, reminding you of your fears. you wished with all your might that the storm would stop. it didn’t. of course it didn’t. why would it, it was nature, and nature didn’t listen to common people, only the gods above. “y/n? y/n! oh my god, y/n!” you heard a shout echo through the forest, and you shivered again. “there you are, do you know how long i’ve been looking for you?” jaemin accused, hands grabbing at your shoulders. you glared back, though it wasn’t threatening as you were shaking and shivering, teeth chattering. “you know it’s the rainy season and almost winter! what the fuck were you thinking?” jaemin huffed, but shrugged off his coat and draped it around your shoulders gently, concern making his eyebrows knit together.

“it was sunny before.” you protested, and jaemin exhaled, shaking his head with disappointment at your naive actions.

“you should know the weather changes quickly,” jaemin retorted, and that shut you up. you knew the weather changed fast, but emotions took over you, just wanting to escape the castle jaemin called home. “we should find some shelter. i know there’s an old cottage somewhere, i just don’t know where.” jaemin sighed.

you raised your eyebrows at him, “what, it wouldn’t be some strange warped hansel and gretel remix going on, would it? because we’re not smart enough to push witches into ovens.” jaemin smiled widely, chuckling at your small jab at yourself and him.

“no, it’s completely safe.” he assured you, grabbing your hand. jaemin nervously cleared his throat. “uh… i, i should apologize for earlier. it wasn’t right for me to snap at you.” you squeezed his hand gently.

“i know you’re stressed, it’s okay. i really should be more lenient.” you sighed, slightly disappointed in yourself for not understanding your best friend’s struggles. his hair was sticking to his forehead, yours similarly sticking you your arms and neck.

“it’s just the expectations, you know. of my parents, of the people… of the country.” jaemin’s eyes widened in horror and fear, an expression that would be almost comical under different circumstances and whispered, “what if i have to rule the country one day?”

your friend blanched and you sighed, tightening your hold around him to anchor him to reality, “look, i’m not saying you’re incapable of doing it, but it’s really quite impossible that something were to happen to doyoung, so i don’t think you really have to worry about that too much. still, being royalty is probably way harder than i could imagine.”

his voice wistful, jaemin’s eyes shined with tears - or perhaps it was just the rain creating illusions. “sometimes i wish i were never born into royalty. but you know what, there’s pros and cons to everything, that’s just how life is. we get privileges, but we can’t have the best of both worlds. still,” he looked down at the wet ground, “every time i see children running about or playing with their friends in courtyards or in the streets, it makes me wish i had a childhood. makes me wish i had friends, and was allowed to play with them, to live a normal life. normal. what a beautiful word, really, and how ironic that millions of people would give anything to be a member of the royal family, while the second prince would do anything to get out of being one.”

there wasn’t very much to say, you thought, considering jaemin very rarely went into long, emotional speeches like this one. you’d never be able to understand, and you weren’t about to try. softly, so very softly, you whispered, “but you have me.” jaemin smiled softly, and slightly proudly at you.

“yeah. yeah, i do.” and he did. he’s always had you, from the first day he sneaked into the kitchen for a taste of his birthday cake before he was supposed to, until- well, there isn’t an until if you’ll have his back forever, is there?

a cottage was beginning to come into view in the distance, a quaint little thing fit for no more than one person (or perhaps seven dwarves, no reference to snow white intended). the rain blurred your vision and wind whipped through your hair, but it was shelter, and so hand in hand, you ran towards it.

“to what honour do i owe the presence of the second prince at my humble abode?” a boy’s voice, sweet and melodic, came from behind you.

you jumped. “jaemin! i thought you said it was safe.” you hissed, clutching at jaemins arms. jaemin just shrugged. you sighed, keeping an eye on the strange boy. jaemin gripped your hand tighter, however.

jaemin gestured vaguely around, staring at the auburn-haired boy with no small amount of skepticism, “i thought you’d be… older. like, an old lady.”

the boy scoffed. “who’s to say i’m not? witches don’t always have to be middle aged ladies with no fashion sense and even less hair. i’m donghyuck, by the way. come on in.” jaemin was still looking the boy up and down in curiosity, finally blurting out, “witches use umbrellas?”

“no, we’re waterproof,” donghyuck deadpanned, sarcasm filling his words.

“jaemin,” you frowned, “do you know him?” a quick shake of his head confirmed your suspicions. “then why,” you half-screeched into his ear, “do you assume he’s safe?”

“i’m not. i could turn you into a frog, if you want.” the boy suggested, waving a hand, making you flinch and jaemin move your smaller frame behind him. donghyuck moved a shoulder evenly up and down, “joking.”

“that wasn’t funny!” you gasped. donghyuck moved his other shoulder up and down, doing a strange half-shrug again, “nobody gets my humour.”

you followed him into the house, dripping water all over his doormat and the wooden planks of his floor, but not daring to move any further than that. donghyuck waved his hand, slamming the wooden door shut behind you and lighting the fire, “will the two of you stop looking so shocked? it’s not like i’m going to cook you for dinner, so why are you acting like you’ve never seen a witch before?”

“because we haven’t,” the note of childlike curiosity reappeared in jaemin’s voice, and you were glad his mind was taken off of his royal duties, “they were outlawed a long time ago.” “right,” donghyuck levitated a couple mugs of cocoa over to you, “i forgot, sorry.”

“so your existence is basically illegal, and yet you’re serving the prince of your kingdom hot chocolate in the middle of the thunderstorm like nothing’s wrong?” you sputtered in disbelief, though you didn’t actually splutter, of course; that was rather an expression authors liked using. “all in a day’s work,” donghyuck glanced at you again, “come in and stop dripping water on the mat. would you believe it, magically drying the mat is harder than magically drying the wood.” very honestly, you didn’t know what to make of that boy.

you stood awkwardly, pressing yourself into jaemin’s side as you watched donghyuck bustle around his house, ironically not unlike an old lady. “so, ummm, could you show us some magic or something?”

“like drying our clothes,” jaemin added, motioning to the soaked fabric draped over his body.

“they’ll dry, just sit by the fireplace. in the meantime, i can show you a soulmate spell if you’d like to see it. it’s one of the easier and prettier spells, so i think you’d enjoy it, even if it’s highly unlikely it would work. soulmates are rare things, and even rarer are soulmates who discover each other and the fact that they are soulmates. so i’ll do it, but if you two don’t turn out to be soulmates, don’t be disappointed. if you do, there isn’t going to be a flash of golden light and a shower of sequins either, so don’t get your hopes up.”

“you’re saying like what would happen is one of us would die and suddenly come back to life.” you sarcastically commented, but eyes growing wide as the moon above when donghyuck looked around nervously.

“well…” he started, but you held up a hand.

“excuse me, what. come again?”

“let me just show you.” donghyuck sighed, and got up, grabbing a book from the large shelf pushed against the wall. he flipped through a few pages carefully, and let out a satisfied “ah,” when he found the correct page in the yellowing book. “the concept of soulmates hath been the strongest bond known to man since the beginnings of time. for the true blossoming of true love takes place when the eyes of soulmates transform into colours of the fall. time and time again, history older than anything thou or i could ever imagine hast proven that soulmates are rare, ones who know about them even more so. for thee, the pair who is reading this, thou art soulmates. it would be an insult to fate and everyone who cannot experience such a connection to not realise your feelings. thou hath one month to realize feelings or one half of the pair will be fated to a cruel ending. as mere mortals, we do not make the rules. nobody can help thee except the other, but fear not. you are soulmates. you have a bond. said bond shalt be enough, if thou realises it.” haechan read, rubbing the thin, old pages of the book between careful fingers. you glanced over at jaemin who was shifting his weight back and forth, not knowing where to put his feet. “so, basically,” donghyuck started, ignoring jaemin’s nervous state. “if your soulmate doesn’t acknowledge their feelings for you, or you don’t, one of you would basically die.” he shrugged. your mouth dropped open. how in the world was he so calm about it? “what the fuck? they could die?” jaemin seemed to share your sentiment.

“what is a fuck?” donghyuck furrowed his eyebrows together, evidently confused as to what this strange new word meant. jaemin faltered, taken aback, “wait, dude, you look like you’re, what, seventeen, and you have no idea what fuck means?” donghyuck looked at jaemin like he was an idiot, “never gotten the chance to interact with a lot of other seventeen year olds.” jaemin nodded solemnly, “can relate. only got this loser for a friend.” jaemin hooked a thumb in your direction. you rolled your eyes.

“let us begin the spell! i feel like i’m conducting a child gender reveal party,” he exclaimed happily, rubbing his hands together with glee. you held up your hand.

“hold the fuck up, you’re not performing this spell! one of us could DIE!” you exclaimed.

“there’s the word fuck again. kinda catchy.” donghyuck tested it out under his breath. “any other new words?” he asked. jaemin opened his mouth, no doubt to actually teach donghyuck how to swear, and well, you weren’t exactly opposed to letting him, but not dying came higher than teaching people you just met how to swear on your priority list.

“don’t worry. there’s only a slight chance that you’re soulmates anyway, and it’s better to know than to remain in oblivion. i’m not kidding.” “ignorance is bliss?” you suggested, desperate to stop donghyuck. “no, y/n. i think… if we indeed are soulmates, we deserve to know. i want to at least know why i died if i do suddenly die.”

“i have heard of that saying, y/n, was it? say, can fuck be used as a noun, a verb or an adjective?” “any way you want,” jaemin grinned, “reality can be anything you wish it to be!” “sweet,” donghyuck plonked a cauldron of unknown origin onto the table, “i like that word already.”

pulling a ladle out of seemingly nowhere, donghyuck pointed said ladle at you, “what’s your favourite flower?” you stared at him blankly, “you need that for the spell? i don’t really have a preference.” donghyuck rolled his eyes, “no, i was just curious. if you’re interested, your aura says daisy and jaemin’s absolutely screams carnations. for the record, i have zero idea what those flowers mean, but who cares?” he waved an arm over the cauldron which then proceeded to bubble, pushing dandelions and carnations to the surface. white. all white. “pretty enough, i suppose. i don’t usually give my services discounted, so you can just teach me some new words and it’s a deal.”

as you thought back, you did have a small memory of making flower crowns with jaemin. you often made daisy crowns, while jaemin’s were, as far as you knew, carnations. they were always given to you, all his carnation-based flower accessories: crowns, necklaces, bracelets.

you were jerked back to the present and away from distant memories as jaemin helpfully, or not so helpfully, instructed donghyuck on how to swear, “so, motherfucker is a noun. the verb equivalent is motherfucking, but that’s usually used as an adjective anyway. can also be shortened to mf. bitch is a more female-specific curse word since its original meaning was something along the lines of female dog.”

“i thought dogs were nice,” donghyuck pointed a finger aggressively at the bubbling liquid inside the cauldron, flowers obscuring most of its contents, “this always takes way too fucking long to boil so i can’t do anything. how perfectly bitchy of it.” jaemin’s face lit up with that mischievous smile you were so used to, “you’re a natural!” “why, thank you.” you had to be imagining things. either that, or your ears were waterlogged. shaking your head wildly, all you got was a headache, so no, your ears weren’t waterlogged. and so the two boys before you were complimenting each other casually on their ability to swear, even as one’s existence was against the law and the other was the prince of your kingdom. because that was not… strange. not strange at all.

“why don’t you teach him things like crap, hell and damn? why… fuck and bitch?” donghyuck had settled into an armchair by the fire, snapping his fingers every minute or so to keep the cauldron’s contents boiling, “you want to learn the interesting shit. like, you know, if i can learn shit and motherfucker then why am i learning crap and hell and damn? they sound lame compared to bitch, fuck and shit.” donghyuck shrugged, you sighed, and jaemin nodded like he’d birthed and raised donghyuck for seventeen years just for this moment.

“i mean, my parents don’t let me curse, but it’s fun to see them mad sometimes.” jaemin shrugged. you shook your head at the boy next to you (we shall omit the fact that he learnt half his curse words from you, and the other half from the legendary crown prince’s speech in which he accidentally swore half a dozen times in front of the whole nation. doyoung got grounded, but it made jaemin, and by extension you, developed a heck of a lot more respect for him.) you watched quietly as the two boys exchanged details about their lives and excitedly swore together. unconsciously, you started shivering again, your clothes still not quite dry. jaemin noticed, and picked up the blanket laid across his lap, wrapping it around your shoulders, making sure the blanket was secure around you before turning back to donghyuck. you learnt he also liked to be called haechan or hyuck, lived out here all his life, and didn’t know much about the kingdom from having to stay hidden from the world. jaemin’s expression held a hint of guilt, knowing that he was a member of the family that had caused huyck's plight.

“ooh! the spell is done!” hyuck clapped, and scrambled to his feet, once again doing the weird shrug thing, skipping over to the cauldron. his hair bounced and jaemin snickered while you quieted him. you shrank back into the couch as the sounds from the caldron became louder and donghyuck’s eyes started to sparkle. jaemin grabbed your hand, palms slightly sweaty. donghyuck peered into the large metal bowl, and smiled. his smile made you a bit uneasy.

“ready?” he asked the two of you, and jaemin nodded while you hesitated.

“yes.”

nothing happened for a moment and haechan waved his hands over the flower-filled water, mumbling some ancient words. you watched, eyes wide, as the water came out in a stream, winding around the circumference of the small cottage, and then around you and jaemin’s hands. you gasped, as the water was ice cold though it was boiling just moments ago. a daisy settled on jaemins wrist, wrapping around it tightly. a carnation wrapped around your finger, like it’s own special promise to you. jaemin frowned.

“is that supposed to mean something?” he asked, tugging at the flower. it didn’t move or tear. haechan eyes doubled in size as his eyes zeroed in on the flowers.

“you’re… you’re soulmates.”

jaemin stood there in shock, and shook his head. “no way. we’re best friends.” he protested. your heart was slightly crushed, as you liked him for a few months now. who wouldn’t? “we can’t be soulmates. no way.” he shook his head again, as if to clear away the water clogging his ears. you let go of jaemin’s hand. your heart was hammering, matching the raindrops that pelted to the ground.

“are.. are you sure?” you asked, voice wavering. haechan nodded. your hands were shaking now, and jaemin was ignoring you. “can i… may i lie down?” you asked, twirling a finger around your long strands of hair. donghyuck nodded, pointing you to what you assumed to be his room. as you slipped off, you heard jaemin and donghyuck whisper something together.

the next few days you didn’t see much of jaemin, only when he came out of the library to get food. even those days were rare, as he often ate in there, or brought his lunch in during the morning. and each day, jaemins face looked more and more pale. the flowers had vanished, though they left marks on where they rested just a week ago. you cast a glance down the empty hallway to the library, feet hesitating. you made up your mind, pushing open the large oak doors and… found jaemin passed out on the ground.

you gasped, rushing over and checking his temperature. it was abnormally normal, though he was sweating. you called a maid over, and soon you found yourself in the hospital wing. how were you going to break it to his parents that their younger son was sick because you two were soulmates. the thought itself was ridiculous.

“is jaemin okay?” well, fuck you, he’s obviously not. an undertone of worry was detected from the trained calmness of doyoung’s voice. the king and queen had yet to arrive, and doyoung stood behind you, hand resting on your shoulder in a slightly failed attempt to calm you. quick breaths left you, panic filling your mind and cluttering your lungs. the crown prince patted at your shoulder awkwardly, turning to leave as he couldn’t really do much. besides, it was fairly obvious the two of you needed to be alone.

as the day faded into night, jaemin was still, not moving as you watched him, hands grasping at your hair. this was all your fault. no, it was that bitch of a witch named donghyuck. he cast the spell. you wanted to blame jaemin for not accepting that you were soulmates, and now he was going to die because of it.

obviously, you hadn’t had a soulmate before. but you could sense it, you knew that no matter what jaemin had done, you wouldn’t be able to stay mad at him. to love so hard you’re falling, but you know you’re flying. you’re not there yet, definitely not. there was an inkling of the possibility of that happening, though. you barely blamed jaemin for everything (which was mostly his fault anyway), and staring at the pale complexion of the boy in front of you, you couldn’t bring yourself to stay angry. you slipped your hand into his (see? can’t help it. this was all because you were soulmates, and totally not because you just wanted to.), and as storybook-esque as it was, it felt so right. a maid brought you dinner, but you couldn’t bring yourself to scoop the rice and noodles into your mouth. your stomach was protesting, but you didn’t care, resting your head on your arm, you clutched jaemin’s hand tightly. tears pricked at your eyes, and this time, you didn’t stop them.

doyoung came by again in the morning and found you awake, dark blue and purple eyebags obnoxiously present. “have you been here the whole night?” you stretched, not letting go of jaemins limp hand, back aching from the uncomfortable position you were in for the whole night.

“is there a wrong answer?” you asked, yawning as you spoke. doyoung sighed, rubbing at his temples.

“he’ll survive, y/n. it’s just sickness. we have the best doctor-”

“it’s not just a sickness!” you snapped, fire igniting in your stomach, the need to protect haechan slowly shrinking. you found yourself telling the oldest prince everything from getting caught in the rain, jaemin having a breakdown, the walk in the woods, to finding the cottage, and even the witch you encountered, though his existence was very much illegal. doyoung listened. he listened to every word, and nodded along, though his eyes were slowly going from panicked to angry.

“so, you found a witch, donghyuck, was it?” you nodded in confirmation, death gripping jaemin’'s hand. if he ever woke up he would for sure scold you for making his dominant hand ache. “he cast a soulmate spell, and jaemin didn’t accept. so now the gods are punishing him?” you nodded again. doyoung sighed, rubbing at his temples again. you watched anxiously, worried for donghyuck’s safety.

“could you get donghyuck to come here?” doyoung asked. that is not what you were expecting. blinking nervously, you nodded. you remembered the path jaemin took, right? if not, you could just shout.

“do you promise not to kill him? or like, arrest him? he’s an annoying motherfucker, but i think jaemin would be sad if you did,” you inhaled. doyoung nodded with a perfectly straight face. “he could turn you into a frog.” you added, deciding to trust him. doyoung looked a bit shocked, but you reluctantly stood up. “i’ll be back.” you whispered to jaemin, leaving doyoung to look after his brother.

setting off in the woods alone was scarier than you thought. shivering, you really wished you had jaemin in that moment. really wished. the sooner you got to donghyuck, the sooner he would be better, right? wrong.

“what do you mean you can’t remove the spell?” you shrieked, panic filling you once again. donghyuck looked sorrowful, and doyoung was standing with his arms crossed off in the corner.

“i can’t, i’m sorry, y/n. jaemin has to realize he loves you for the sickness to go away. and either way, all my spell did was prove that the two of you were soulmates. the sickness stems from the heavens”

“i have to what?” jaemin’s voice cracked slightly from not using it for the past few days. “jaemin!” you practically sobbed, hand clenching around his fingers from where you’d reached for them unknowingly. he squeezed back weakly, coughing. “what do i have to do?”

“realize you love y/n.” haechan said simply.

“i don’t think it works like that!” your voice came out slightly higher than usual, laughing nervously to stop jaemin from feeling uncomfortable. he had to, love didn’t work as such. you just didn’t decide to go, ‘okay today i have decided i love y/n!’ jaemin looked at donghyuck with visible confusion. all haechan offered was a half shrug in return.

“what happens if i don’t?” jaemin whispered. haechan glanced at doyoung, nervous that someone so high and regal was standing in the same room as him - jaemin didn’t count, seeing as he’d spent the first hour of knowing hyuck teaching him to swear, and he wasn’t the crown prince anyway - if he did or said the wrong thing, he would definitely get executed.

“we’ll get there when we get there. how long does he have?” doyoung asked. you gripped jaemin’s hand tighter, nervous of the answer. “it… depends?” donghyuck offered. doyoung scowled. “very helpful.” “i’m sorry, i’ve never had to deal with this kind of fuckery before,” donghyuck waved his hands around, “okay, swear i’m not doing magic, but i really didn’t cause any of this. okay. maybe a bit. but it would have happened anyways.” your eyebrow lifted.

“what do you mean, anyways?” jaemin asked, frowning.

“the soulmate spell only helps the soulmates find each other. and gets the show on quicker, but a year from now, the same thing would’ve happened.” haechan explained, still waving a hand. doyoung’s eyebrows knitted together. “so, jaemin and y/n should spend as much time together as they can.” hyuck concluded.

“and die faster?” jaemin snarled. haechan shook his head quickly, eyes straying to the other royal member in the room.

“no, if you spend more time together, then it’ll slow down until you realise you’re in love. usually, you get only a week, but if you spend every day together, it’s up to… a month?” haechan shrugged, letting the slightest hint of resentment slip into his voice, “maybe i’d know better if i actually could come out of hiding to be taught by more experienced witches. my work here seems to be done anyway, adios!” it was like donghyuck was born to be a showman. he ripped the curtains off and disappeared under them with a flash, letting the rich fabric settle slowly to the ground. doyoung sighed.

“well, you guys heard what he said. spend as much time together as you can.” doyoung shrugged. “and jaemin, try not to die.” doyoung added, a small smile playing at his lips, like he knew something you didn’t. jaemin nodded, head thrown back onto the plush pillows. you frowned, jaemin usually loved to hang out with you. something definitely changed over the last few weeks.

try not to die, he said. well, you were definitely dying inside. and jaemin wasn’t getting any better, coughing, occasional throwing up, and sneezing. he barely could keep his food down, let alone sit up without any help. it worried you. it worried you a lot more than you let on. to say things were awkward was putting it lightly. everyone avoided the two of you, seeing the tension held over your and jaemin’s heads. you started to get fed up after a few days.

“what happened? aren’t you supposed to be with jaemin?” doyoung asked as you stormed downstairs.

“he’s not talking to me. what’s the harm in taking a small break?” you exhaled, running a hand through your now messy hair. doyoung frowned, the worry lines creasing his forehead. “don’t worry, i’m going back to the ward in half an hour. it’s just so… infuriating.” you ranted to the crown prince, resting your head on the stairwell railing. doyoung had stopped you half way down the stairs. “we’re soulmates for god's sake! can’t he just… talk to me? when did he start to see me as a bother? when did he… start to hate me? it’s like we never were friends. i miss him, doyoung. i miss my best friend. i miss his smile, his laugh, his weird antics, i miss my jaemin.” you whimpered, tears pricking your eyes for the third time today. jaemin being sick and ignoring you while, quite literally, on his deathbed did not help. especially since you two were soulmates.

“when did you start to fall in love with him?” doyoung questioned softly. you thought for a moment. when did you truely start to love jaemin? not in the rain. not when you had your first fight when you saw him. no, it started a while ago. when jaemin started to grow up. when you stopped making flower jewelry and when he started to give you real gems. when? you weren’t exactly sure. maybe you always loved him. maybe he always loved you. but when would he figure that out? doyoung just nodded, understanding your confused gaze, unfocused and misty-eyed. he stood up, brushing his black slacks and deep red shirt. “give him a bit. jaemin is a bit slow with these kinds of things.” you only nodded in response, mindlessly walking back to the ward jaemin was residing in.

jaemin still was not getting any better the next few days. he still refused to talk to you, only nodding or rolling his eyes as a response to you trying to start to converse. you were starting to lose hope.

you were surprised to see him lying on the cold tiled ground.

“jaemin, why are you on the ground? you should be in bed. it’s cold out.” you scolded, moving towards him. jaemin held up a hand, draping his hands over his stomach.

“the floor is nice and cold,” he uttered, sighing with relief as the tile cooled his sweaty body down. you frowned, huffing. jaemin, once again, did not listen.

“the ground is dirty. i can turn down the heat-” jaemin cut you off.

“shut up! i’m dying, i don’t care if the ground is dirty!” jaemin hissed, and you backed up, saddened by his tone. jaemin didn’t notice, too busy coughing into his elbow to notice your state.

“you’re not going to die,” you whispered, and jaemin moved his elbow away. “you’re not. i refuse to let you. i don’t care if you don’t love me right now, but you’re my soulmate, jaemin. soulmate. do you know how many people wish to have soulmates? jaemin, i’ve been by your side since we were in diapers. we played in the mud together. we got in trouble together. we did everything together, jaemin. i watched you grow up. i watched you become more responsible. i watched, and i waited for you to confess. but you never did, so now you’re sick, and it’s all your fault. don’t push the blame on me, on donghyuck, or on anyone. this is on you. if you want to sit here and wallow in your self-pity, go ahead. i’m tired, jaemin. i tried to give you time, but you only have three weeks left. i don’t…” you choked on your words. “i don’t know what i’ll do if you ever die suddenly.” you whispered, backing out of the door. jaemin struggled to his feet, but you were already gone, ends of your hair and dress flowing behind you.

he stared at the empty spot where you’d been just moments before, feeling the same emptiness in his heart. bitterness welled up from within him. he wasn’t that dumb either, but love just didn’t work that way. just because some spell told you that you were soulmates didn’t necessarily mean that with a magical click of your fingers you’d stare into each others eyes and sappily declare your everlasting love.

doyoung stepped out from nowhere, looking around with a confused expression, “where’s y/n? i swear i saw her here just a few minutes ago.”

“hey, hyung.” doyoung hummed in response. jaemin sat up with some difficulty, holding a hand up to stop doyoung from trying to help him, “what if this sickness has got nothing to do with the soulmate fuckery? what if i just, uh, have the plague or something?”

“have the plague or something,” doyoung drawled sarcastically, “the last time the plague was going around was, like, a hundred years ago.” jaemin winced.

“or maybe i have cancer.”

“or maybe,” doyoung narrowed his eyes at his brother, “you’re just being a fatheaded dick who can’t come to terms with the fact that you’re soulmates with your best friend, and have to realise your love for each other so you don’t suddenly stop breathing!” doyoung stalked out of the room without a single word, pausing to seemingly contemplate whether slamming the (very heavy) oak door would help prove his point. he very intelligently settled on just stamping his foot. it made him look like a child, but jaemin hadn’t seen doyoung this upset in a while. and frankly, it got him thinking a bit.

you walked into the hospital wing as usual without greeting jaemin. it wasn’t like you got a reply anyway. “hey,” the prince offered as you took up your usual spot by his bed with a book, a clear indication that you didn’t want conversation.

your eyebrows twitched a little. granted, you weren’t expecting him to say anything, but it must be a testament to your friendship if your little blow up had at least gotten jaemin to think a little. you stared pointedly down at the book you didn’t even know the title of.

“y/n.” still no response. “you’re holding the book upside down,” jaemin sighed.

furious with yourself, you flipped the book the right side up again, “you don’t want to talk to me. stop forcing yourself to.”

“i do want to talk to you, okay? i don’t particularly want to die either, the soulmates idea is just hard to stomach.”

“what, does loving me sound so bad? am i so unlovable?” you slammed your book closed, trying not to choke on the shower of dust that came with it. logically, you shouldn’t be getting mad. jaemin was just trying to make things better, but he sounded so forced. “you sound so forced to do this, jaemin.”

“oh, are you getting mad at me now? you were sad because i wasn’t talking to you, and now you’re mad because i am! what the fuck am i supposed to do?” jaemin glared at you from underneath the covers, “i’m trying, okay? i thought you said you didn’t want me to die!”

“i don’t want you to die!” you hissed back at him, tears springing to your eyes again.

“are you crying again? if every time we talk you get that sad, then maybe you should just let me die!”

you dusted yourself off and ran out of the room, not even bothering to give jaemin an answer. why didn’t he get it? it’s not that hard to understand! (when else but) on your way out, you bumped into (who else but) doyoung, crying (what else but) angry tears. again. you really had to stop doing that.

to nobody in particular, doyoung whispered, “why are they so angsty?”

“we need to talk,” doyoung declared the moment he walked into the room in one of the pockets of time that you weren’t in it. jaemin looked up from the extremely interesting loose thread on his blanket and nodded, “what about?”

“y/n.”

jaemin’s expression darkened in a nanosecond. “no,” he practically growled, “not her again. i can figure this out myself, doyoung hyung! you don’t have to help me.”

“if you can figure this out yourself, the two of you wouldn’t be the embodiment of every sad angsty book ever written.”

“it’s our way of coping with things.” the words sounded fake even to jaemin’s own ears.

“no,” doyoung deadpanned, “don’t fuck around with me.” he hissed, “you know she cries every time you give her unwanted insults. let’s count how many times i ran into her, sometimes quite literally, in the hallway with her crying. one, the day you two got lost in the woods. two, when you were passed out and unresponsive, three, a few days after you woke up and weren’t talking to her, four, literally yesterday after you basically told her she was unlovable.” doyoung held up his fingers mockingly and it felt like jaemin had just been slapped in the face. “four times, na jaemin. four times you fucked up, four times y/n felt worthless, four times more than needed. four times. thats more than anything that happened in the last 16 years of your friendship. four times in less than a month. get your shit together, jaemin.” doyoung snapped, and spun around on his heel. jaemin felt like everyone was against him at this point.

a week passes and hey, what did you know? some improvement was showing. you and jaemin could hold, an (albeit very awkward, but still) a conversation. it was a relief to you, but you were slightly suspicious of him. jaemin still couldn’t look you in the eyes, glancing away or inspecting his nails. but you couldn’t ask anymore of him, he went from straight out ignoring you, to asking how your day went. jaemin sent you a small smile, fiddling in his seat.

“how… how are you?” jaemin asked, glancing at your features shyly. you smiled, though it felt more forced than genuine.

“i’m good. have you been getting better?”

“well, you know. not really,” jaemin shrugged, not looking at you, “it hasn’t been getting worse either, though.”

you ignored the way jaemin was pointedly avoiding your gaze and offered a half smile you didn't really mean, “the weather isn’t very good today, is it?” the weather hadn’t been really good for the past week or so. even if you weren’t spending every waking (and sleeping) moment by jaemin’s side, you wouldn’t have been able to go out of the castle. the relentless rain pouring down on the windows made sure of that.

“y/n, i still think we have to talk.” jaemin’s expression turned serious, “i know i’ve been a dick these few weeks, and i’m not even going to try excusing myself for that. but i want you to know that no matter what, i still treasure you a lot as my best friend. i think i just need time - okay, admittedly we haven’t got very much of that left, about a week and a half or so, but i struggle with feelings. i really struggle a lot and it’s overwhelming and i miss you so much, i miss talking to you not-awkwardly and i want our old relationship back.”

you promised yourself you weren’t going to cry again, because god knows you’ve cried too much. “okay then,” you laughed lightly, “if you’re going to make this a deep sentimental talk, just know that i’m willing to wait for you for as long as you need. sadly this isn’t up to me.”

jaemin remained silent for a bit, taking in what you just said. when he spoke again, you were shocked. “do you think i love you?”

you cocked your head, “what i think doesn’t matter. the question is what do you think?”

“i want to know what you think.”

knowing he wasn’t going to let you go until you told him so, you sighed, “i think you do.”

“platonically or romantically?”

“my father wants my help in the kitchens, your highness. i’ll see you later.”

it was raining again, and you didn’t show up in his room like normal. jaemin was worried, and he got out of his bed clumsily, grabbing a cane, which he winced at. he looked like an old man with it. drawing back the heavy velvet curtains, the glass of his widow was covered in water droplets, all racing to the window sill. jaemin spotted you running around the courtyard, mouth open with a muted laugh and eyes sparkling even though you were soaked to the skin. jaemin found himself smiling, watching you with fond eyes. his senses kicked in, and he realized. he was truly, and utterly, with every fiber of his being, every cell in his body, in love with you. with his best friend. with the person who stuck by him all these years. who loved all his flaws and imperfections. he, na jaemin, second prince in line, never to sit on the throne (he didn’t mind that part), was in love with you. a cook's daughter, a commoner, but most importantly, his soulmate.

when you came inside, your teeth were chattering and you were shivering all over, but it was the happiest you’d felt in a while. nothing was better than dancing in the rain, really, except dancing in the rain with jaemin. that now… that was a hundred times better, but na jaemin was sick, so you’d have to forgo that. practically waltzing into jaemin’s room, you grinned at him, your good mood making you forget all the awkwardness. he was just your best friend, your best friend of so many years. awkwardness who?

“jaems!” it might have been the prior realization of love making jaemin completely disregard any tension that might have been between the two of you earlier, but he grinned back at you just as happily as you’d greeted him, “y/n!” he frowned, pretending he hadn’t been watching you from his window just a few minutes prior because that was borderline creepy, “why are you all wet?”

“i danced in the rain. oh god, jaemin, do you remember that time when we were dancing together in the rain and then decided to use a banana leaf as an umbrella but we got wet anyway? and then-”

“and then,” jaemin picked up seamlessly from where you left off, the grin not disappearing, “doyoung hyung came to check on us because he was scared we’d catch colds from running around in the rain all day. then we slipped and fell into the mud, splashing him all over.”

you laughed, a light tinkling sound that reminded jaemin again of why he loved you, “i swear the mud mask made his skin better.”

jaemin practically screeched with laughter, “you mean you’ve been looking at my brother’s skin?”

the overwhelming love and affection you felt for your best friend in that moment, both platonically and romantically, made you throw your arms around him, instantly soaking him through with your wet clothes. somehow, the two of you ended up sprawled on his bed.

“you know what? i love you.” jaemin sighed, snuggling into your embrace. your ears burned red.

“you.. you what?” you asked timidly. you really hoped jaemin said what you thought he said. jaemin smiled, leaning back more, adjusting the position the two of you were in. you now were snuggled into his chest, sighing as you felt your eyelids droop. jaemin chuckled lowly, and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“i’ll be here when you wake up.” he whispered softly. you fell asleep, mind calm for once.

“jaemin- okay, you can explain why y/n’s soaking your bedsheets through and the both of you are completely drenched in rainwater first,” doyoung arched an eyebrow, “have y’all finally gotten your shit together?”

“i think i love her, hyung,” jaemin’s arm curled protectively around you, “really.”

doyoung clicked his tongue, shaking his head in disapproval, “you think? be sure of it, jaems. i’ve practically raised the two of you and watched you grow up, and now you say you only think you love her?”

“i love her.” jaemin struggled to hold back the laugh that was threatening to spill out of his chest. “i love her!” he repeated again, louder this time. seeing the finger doyoung had to his lips, he quietened down to prevent waking you up, “thank you, hyung. for knocking some sense into me.”

doyoung smiled, “anytime. it’s my job, after all. now, i think you two need some alone time. see you at dinner, i truly doubt you’ll still be sick.”

you were awakened by the sound of the door closing. rubbing your eyes tiredly, you looked around, disoriented, “did someone come in?”

“it’s nothing, y/n. just a servant. sleep, i love you.”

you yawned, “i love you too.” and you snuggled back under the covers with him, acting like it was the most natural thing to do in the world.

“hey,” jaemin whispered in your ear, waking you up gently, “i hate to have to wake you up, but dinner’s in a few. my parents want to see you too, apparently.”

you blinked the sleep away from your eyes, looking at his smiling face. waking up to jaemin’s smile was something you could get used to, you thought. “what?”

“i said, we have to go get ready for dinner. you too, yes, main banquet hall, my parents want to see you.”

your mouth dropped open, all thoughts of sleep gone, “i don’t have clothes suitable for a fancy dinner!”

“oh yes you do. wear that yellow dress with the sunflowers.”

“is that formal enough?”

“y/n, like, you’ve literally talked to my parents so many times. they watched you grow up. they’re not so different from doyoung and i.”

“but this is the first time meeting them as your girlfriend!” oh god, did you really just say that? you cringed inwardly. you hadn’t even put a label on the relationship yet. rushing to make amends, you stuttered out, “soulmate. i mean soulmate.”

“you’ve always been my soulmate. as for girlfriend, well, you can be if you want to, but we have explaining to do. now move! the entire bed is wet!”

with strength a sick person shouldn’t possess, jaemin threw you out of his bed playfully. you looked up in shock and happiness, “you’re well again! you’re not sick anymore!”

jaemin grinned down at you from his bed, “we realised our love. see you in twenty, adios, au revoir, zaijian, sayonara!” yelling at the top of his lungs, he pushed you out of his room and slammed the door, and you honestly couldn’t care less. you were flying (figuratively, of course), drunk on the sentiments of finally realising your feelings for your best friend and soulmate.

growing up in the castle had taught you some things about manners, especially when the queen insisted you attend some etiquette lessons together with jaemin (to keep him in check, she’d said). dropping into a deep curtsey in front of the royal family, you rose again when the king placed a warm hand on your shoulder, “get up, y/n. we’re all family here, there’s not need for such formalities. you never really did those before either.”

“i was eight and didn’t know much about manners,” you protested lightly as he steered you into your seat beside jaemin, then taking his own at the head of the table - the king’s seat.

you ate in silence and as fast as you could without being rude. nobody made a move to break the silence, so you sat and waited until the last of the plates had been cleared away by the servants, then leaned forward, “if it isn’t rude to ask, may i know why i’ve suddenly been called here for dinner?”

the queen smiled kindly at you, “of course not, dear. well, today we have two announcements to make, one of which concerns you.” she glanced at the king, who inclined his head at her with a smile as if to say “the floor is all yours, dear.” the queen turned back to you, and seeing the dying rays of last light hit her face, you were again reminded of how beautiful the queen was. “firstly, about doyoung. now, we all know that my dear son here is turning twenty one in a month’s time and has finished his education. and so, doyoung, my son, your father has decided to pass on the kingdom to you. the announcement to the people will happen in a few days’ time, if you agree, and the coronation shall be held on your birthday. you are a much beloved crown prince, and i am sure the news of your coronation will delight the kingdom. i do hope you accept. so,” she practically glowed with pride, staring at the shell-shocked prince, “do you?”

“it would be an honor, mother. but didn’t father say he enjoyed being king?” doyoung, the rightful heir to the throne and the one who’d been trained for this his entire life, looked shocked, to say the least. you couldn’t blame him; it must’ve felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

“your mother and i have long been dreaming of a proper honeymoon in the carribean. away from the eyes of the public,” his father’s voice boomed encouragingly.

“then yes, i accept,” doyoung’s eyes were shining with tears and you really hoped he wasn’t about to cry. knowing him, once he started crying, he wouldn’t stop and that would really… kill the mood.

“cheers to king doyoung,” jaemin raised his glass of juice (seventeen is not of a legal age to consume alcohol) to the sky, looking elated for his brother, “and for heaven’s sake, king doyoung, don’t cry!”

doyoung sniffled a little, holding his own goblet of wine to his brother’s, “i won’t cry! thank you so much!”

“congratulations,” you grinned at doyoung, who’d been just as much your elder brother all these years as he’d been jaemin’s. just in the past month, he’d slapped the two of you so hard to get your shit together, and he should honestly be crowned fairy godmother of the year. except that he wasn’t old, didn’t have white hair pulled up into a bun, and (sadly) didn’t own wings.

“now for our second announcement. doyoung’s explained everything to us already, i hope you don’t mind.” doyoung grinned guiltily at you over the table - honestly! like he’d done anything wrong! “you’re obviously too young for marriage, but y/n, your parents, whom i’ve just talked to, and us - we give you all our blessings. let this relationship prosper!”

jaemin squeezed your hand in his assuringly with a victorious smile like he’d known all along that this would’ve happened. you choked back a sob of your own, “thank you! thank you so much.”

“we’ve never known that soulmates existed, but now that we do know, there isn’t a truer pair than you and y/n,” she addressed jaemin, “treat her well.”

“i swear, mother, you love her more than you love me,” jaemin half-groaned, ignoring his mother’s angelic smile and reply (“i do not! i merely prefer to be around her.”)

“to the new king and couple!” jaemin’s father raised his goblet for another cheer, and you downed your drink in one gulp. tilting your head to grin at jaemin, you thought there really couldn’t be any happier moment in the world.

©danishmiilk, 2020. ©astroboy-lele, 2020.

#kdinerdanceoff20 #neowritingsnet #nct-writers #jaemin fluff #jaemin angst #jaemin imagines #jaemin scenarios #jaemin x reader #nct x reader #nct fluff #nct angst #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct dream x reader #nct dream #nct #na jaemin #jaemin

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boytoykevinday · 3 years ago

Note

best stucky fic recs pwease

Okay, disclaimer, these are all like five+ years old (which is the best Stucky era, imo) and definitely not the only ones I enjoy; these are just a few in my bookmarks on ao3.

In no particular order besides the order I bookmarked them and under a read more because there's a shit ton of them (really, it's a lot):

- hold me until we crumble; Not Rated, 23k

“Sam told me you were watching Antiques Roadshow,” Natasha says, shaking out her hair. “I assumed it was a national emergency.”

- despite the threatening sky and shuddering earth (they remained); Explicit, 72k

“They really didn’t want the mask to come off.” Hill thumbed through the scans, and pulled out a film that she then handed over to Sam, face mostly expressionless but for the flat line of her pursed lips.

Sam accepted the film and held it up to the light, angling so both he and Steve could see it, squinting at the outline of the Winter Soldier’s skull, and the blips of unnatural white that showed up, God, in his brain, not to mention about half his teeth, plus the mask, with its thin protrusions—

“Those are pins,” Steve realized. He looked over at Hill. “The mask—it’s nailed to his face.”

Hill’s face was as unmoved as ever. “Like I said. They really didn’t want it coming off.”

- family means no one gets left behind or forgotten; Teen, 11k

“Why did you think I wouldn’t like you for being gay?” Steve asks gently.

“You’re Captain America.” Eli’s got his teeth clenched and is resolutely looking ahead. “You stand for truth and justice and the American way. You stand for American morals. You stand for…” he shrugs awkwardly. “Not people like me.”

Steve blows the air out of his cheeks slowly, trying to figure out how to keep the anger out of his voice so Eli doesn’t think it’s at him.

Or, Steve comes to terms with his new world, and gains some children in the process.

- Mistake on the Part of Nature; Teen, 1.3k

Steve takes in Bucky's betrayed look and Sam's confusion, follows Sam's gaze to the pile of mangled fruit in the trash can. Sudden comprehension fills his face.

"Oh," he says. "Bucky found out about bananas."

In which an American icon is mourned. But probably not the one you're thinking of.

- Swear Jar; Teen, 1.5k

Bucky isn't the only troll in the future.

Steve has a Swear Jar and he makes the Avengers pay up every time they cuss.

- Barnes & Rogers and the Goddamn Truth; Not Rated, 19k

There are three well-known facts at Shield High:

1. The history teacher Mr. Barnes is a stone-cold terror, and it’s not even because he only has one arm. 2. The other history teacher, Mr. Rogers, is a mysterious enigma, and it’s something to do with the body of a Greek God and contradicting stories of his past. (They’re all rumours, anyway.) 3. Mr Barnes and Mr Rogers hate each other.

Bucky wouldn’t have it any other way.

- perfectly right wrong number; Teen, 32k

It all starts because Steve is too dumb to handle his smartphone.

A wrong number AU in which Bucky Barnes doesn't enter Steve's life (meaning: Bucky wasn't born until the eighties, but Steve is still Captain America) until Steve accidentally dials the wrong number. Wherein there is a lot of texting, some advice via Natasha and Darcy, a bit of pining, and a first date in an amusement park. Oh, and on top of being a disabled veteran, Bucky is a professional catwalker. Literally.

- The power of the right shirt (a.k.a. God bless America); Teen, 1.2k

"He just…" Phil trails off, mouth gaping. He is staring at the field outside the house, eyes glazed.

Clint sighs. "Yeah, he just ripped a log in two with his bare hands."

- To fill it up with something; Teen, 21k

A fateful encounter with Dr. Strange leaves the Winter Soldier transformed, and Bucky Barnes reunites with Steve Rogers in a most unexpected way.

“Steve brings the puppy inside, into the apartment that doesn't quite feel like home no matter how much he's been trying. He isn't used to being alone. Before the war, he always had Bucky, and his mother until her death. During the war, Bucky was there, too—and the rest of the Howlers, of course—but Bucky always meant home. (And well, maybe Steve's already got a name for the puppy in mind)."

- build it bigger than the sun; Teen, 10k

“Yeah, because nothing says heteronormative like living in Dupont Circle for two years and wearing skin-tight shirts to hit on hot airmen when you go running in the morning.”

“Look, I know you’re being sarcastic but I really don’t get how no one picked up on that.”

Steve and Bucky try to work out their relationship. The Avengers keep getting in the way.

- Memories Circle (Like Birds of Prey), Teen, 32k

Everything seems to be going right, Steve's fighting with his Commandos, they've saving lives-- until Steve falls from a train, is taken prisoner, and turned into the Winter Soldier. Meanwhile, Bucky takes up Steve's mantle as Captain America, and thanks to Zola's experiments, he gets dropped into a whole new time, only to cross paths with a Steve who doesn't know who he is anymore.

Essentially, the events of CA:TFA, mild mentioning of Avengers, and CA:TWS but with Steve as the Winter Soldier and Bucky as Captain America

- The Gentleness That Comes; Mature, 9k

Steve Rogers never really views the things he had to do to get by before the War with any sort of shame or embarrassment. People ask him for his opinions on modern issues in interviews, but Steve has gotten good at talking around those types of questions. Fury insists that there's no way to answer them without casting a shadow of controversy across the reputation of the Avengers, and that's the last thing Steve wants.

But then a sex tape is released featuring Tony Stark in bed with another man, and Steve can't stay quiet any longer.

- salt for the sea; Mature, 7.5k

Natasha comes home with intel regarding the fate of the Winter Soldier; Steve leaves to go and avenge Bucky Barnes.

“It's a list of everyone who was involved in his death, and a rough timeline of everything that happened beforehand,” she tells him.

“And the notebook?”

“I explained what they did,” Natasha says, “The blank pages are for you to explain what you do to them.”

- Lone Cat and Samurai; Teen, 8.4k

"We lost Kitten America sir!" Junior Agent blurted out. Then turned an unlovely shade of purple. "I mean, Captain America. Who’s a kitten. Because magic. Sir."

- Waiting To Prove You're Not Alone; Explicit, 41k

Months after he woke up on the banks of the Potomac, when a reporter mistakenly assumes Steve would disapprove of homosexuality being as accepted as it is in the modern day, Steve accidentally snaps and unleashes his real opinion on the matter... and with that, a secret he's hidden for over eighty years.

When that secret comes looking for him in New York, Steve can only hope that he can get a second chance at saving his best friend, even if it means keeping his heart in check.

“Yeah, back in my day it wasn't tolerated, and because of that I knew from the minute I figured it out, that I’d never get to tell my best friend that I loved him, and sure enough, he died without knowing that I’d been in love with him for a decade."

- I'm Not Sick (But I'm Not Well); Mature, 30k

Steve Rogers doesn’t meet Bucky Barnes in the 1930’s. Instead, Steve meets him April 17th, 2012.

Well…sort of meets him.

In actuality, Bucky had almost hit him with his truck.

Or: The fic where millennial Bucky Barnes nearly runs over a freshly thawed national treasure, and what Steve Rogers did to adjust to modern NYC during those two weeks before the events of The Avengers.

- pure as the driven slush; Explicit, 11k

He should have worked it out sooner. But then, Steve always was a sneaky little bastard—had to have been, just to survive this long.

For the SteveBucky Fest prompt, "Steve is quite experienced while Bucky's never gone beyond second base with anyone".

- Let's Be Exposed and Unprotected, Explicit, 5k

Bucky’s pretty sure he should be into getting fucked through the floor while walls explode around him like in that Mr and Mrs Smith movie that Clint loves. But he likes it like this. He likes being on his back with Steve looming above him, big and naked, blocking out the rest of the world.

- Man of Steel; Explicit, 6.7k

It’s like Steve looked at his metal arm and thought ‘Challenge Accepted.’

- 5 Times Steve Got Arrested and 1 Time They All Did; Teen, 4.9k

What it says, 5 times Steve Rogers ended up in jail (with and without Bucky) + 1 time all of the Avengers got arrested with him.

- the best of you; Teen, 16k

Bucky is on a mission when he gets the call.

They tell him that Steve has been compromised.

[The story wherein Hydra captures Steve to create a new weapon. Bucky, alongside the rest of the Avengers, come together and work through the fallout.]

- pull apart the dark; Teen, 79k

Steve's unending faith in his best friend was beginning to look less like hope and more like fantasy. When they'd caught the Soldier – in a fire fight that still gave Sam nightmares – the only thing the man seemed to recall was how to hit exactly where it hurt.

Four months later, Barnes still refused to speak English. Refused to heed anything but Steve's voice.

So, all in all, it was not a great time for Hydra to attack New York. All in all, Sam really wished they'd just killed him, instead of turning Captain America into a baby.

- Not Another Supersoldier Fantasy; Explicit, 8.9k

Bucky finds a popular sex toy modeled on Captain America's own anatomy. Well, isn't this just perfect? Because even after all this time, he still hasn’t seen Steve’s supersoldier cock. But apparently in this day and age anyone with $29.95 can get a decent replica. The unfairness of this is of galactic proportions.

- the blood of the covenant; Teen, 7.5k

Steve has a "thing" for hot water.

Or, Sam Wilson adopts Steve Rogers.

- Mighty like Love, Mighty like Sorrow; Teen, 19k

After freeing himself from the Russians' mind control, Bucky is left at loose ends, drifting through the decades. Still, he's in no hurry to take up Nick Fury's offer to once again fight the good fight -- especially not when Fury has the nerve to put some imposter in his best friend's old suit and send him out to fight against Chitauri.

- Read Me Like a Book; Gen, 1.5k

In which Bucky accidentally becomes a book collector, because when the universe gives you a million biographies about your boyfriend, you go bookcase shopping. And then he finds out about The Grenade Incident, and the boys actually talk about it like actual adults. (Somewhere, Sam sheds a proud tear.)

- the broadest stroke of color; Gen, 16k

Sarah Rogers always loved Steve's hands.

"Your hands will do a lifetime's work," she'd say. "Remember to do the work you can for those you love."

Almost a century later, Steve does just that.

[The story wherein Steve draws comics for Bucky to help him recover his memory. Through a series of events, the issues are leaked, and Steve finds himself reviving the Captain America comics. He still isn't sure how that happened.]

- If You're Loved By Someone (You're Never Rejected); Teen, 9.4k

You’re fifteen when you realize why you stare at Bucky’s lips more than normal when he laughs and when he says your name. You lean into his shoulder when you walk next to him and when you’re sick you don’t fight off his soft hands. You tease him, he teases back and being around him is so easy you forget what it was like to live without him. You can’t remember life pre-Bucky and it scares you.

- Unusual Weather; Explicit, 8.7k

Bucky’s been at the Avengers Tower for three weeks before he finally gives in to Steve’s gentle coaxing and Stark’s cheerful waving of fistfuls of circuits, and lets them scan the arm.

It doesn’t go well.

- this city bleeds its aching heart; Explicit, 35k

The one where Steve and Bucky pose as a happily married couple while on a mission for SHIELD, to catch an international arms dealer hiding in a suburban neighbourhood.

- Good Boy; Explicit, 13k

Bucky is still adjusting to life with the Avengers, and Steve is willing to do whatever it takes to make him feel comfortable. Increasingly, though, what seems to make him comfortable is strangely intimate.

Surprise, Steve! You're a gentle dom and Bucky wants to be your pretty pet!

- Brooklyn; Teen, 8.8k

"Captain America, what's your stance on gay marriage?"

Everyone knows that, by now. Everyone but Bucky.

#told you it was long as shit #fic rec #stucky #mcu #what do people have tagged #fsdjghk whatever

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passable-talent · 4 years ago

Note

i see z nation in your fandoms... 👁 could i possibly request a 10k x reader in which the reader and 10k have a heart to heart about something or in general have a soft moment? thank you... 💕

thank you @dreepiez, the best ever, for the lovely ask 💕, and for being my best friend and knowing exactly what i felt like writing today. I’m so soft for this boy its not even FUNNY.

Eight months since the world had ended, roughly. All things considered, you’re in a pretty good place- definitely a better one than you’d been in on Day One.

On Day One, you were absolutely alone in the middle of a national park near your home. You hadn’t known that the god damn zombie apocalypse was about to happen, so you were taking a walk- which wasn’t so unusual for little fifteen year old you.

You’d been ambushed and chased by Z’s, and managed not to die, but walked away with an extremely broken ankle.

And, that day, you’d met 10k.

He was leaving the area late at night when he happened across you, in the truck he couldn’t quite drive. Well, an ally with a broken ankle is better than none at all when facing the zombie apocalypse.

In the months following, you’d stuck together, becoming strong allies and close friends. You’d trust him with your life, and he you. You were the only person, in fact, who knew his real name. In the eight months since his father died, he hadn’t told a single other soul.

You weren’t like anyone else. You were there since Day One, you’d never left his side. Even when the two of you were found by a survival group, you stuck together. It was the two of you against the world- no matter how many others offered help, neither of you would ever let your guard down far enough to be without the other. Or, rather, neither of you would ever let your guard down far enough to leave the other alone.

You hated to admit it, but 10k was the only person that mattered to you. In the darkest of nights, when you laid in a bed that wasn’t yours and stared up at a ceiling so far from the home you’d grown up in, when you wondered if survival was worth it, thoughts of 10k would pull you through. No matter what you had to live through, you could never imagine leaving him alone. You’d stay alive, for him, for as long as you needed to.

Maybe it was a little sad. You’d only known him for eight months, you really had nothing keeping you friends other than necessity; it’s not exactly like the two of you went to movies together. Still, he was the most important person in your life- the only important person.

Your parents were gone, you didn’t know where. Your friends, from school, you didn’t even think about checking up on them before skipping town with 10k. There was no one left for you, other than him.

Still, you knew that no matter who you met, you’d always come back to him. It wasn’t like you didn’t get along- he was funny, and kind, and loyal, and, uh..

Well. You’re a teenager. And he looks like that.

You’d never act on it, even though you know he feels the same. Every time he looked at you, chose to eat sitting next to you, wished you goodnight before passing out on a couch, you knew he felt the same. After all, he was a teenager too. He was easy to read.

It was unspoken, really, how much you cared for each other. Neither of you would never dare to bring it up, no matter how much you felt it. Instead, you just showed it, checking up on each other, keeping each other safe. You rarely even talked- with each other, that is. It was a silent companionship, affection obvious through the way you always sat beside each other, even when there was no reason to.

It confused a lot of people at this safe camp, especially when you first arrived. Why are they always together, people would say amongst themselves, when they don’t even seem to like each other?

Little did they know that all of your time alone together was worth far more than the time you spent together in the presence of others.

Camp New World, as it was called among its survivors, was as safe a place as one could ask for. It was situated on the top of a mountain, right at its peak. In the time before day one, it had been owned by a single family, who built three homes on its peak as the generations passed. There was only one road up to the top, which made security from humans quite simple, and there were straight drop cliffs on all sides except for the road, which made security from Z’s easy enough. It was safe, and had been since the day it was made into a safe haven.

Thanks to its position on the mountaintop, Camp New World had some spectacular views. And thanks to your age, you and 10k were very rarely sent on missions outside of camp, such things being given to adults rather than the two of you.

And you did love going on adventures, you always had. The word had been well-soured by this eight month long, horrifying adventure, but sometimes you felt just a bit of that love when you sat back from the edge of the cliff and looked out across the valley. You could see to long-away mountains, turning blue with the horizon, and you could see roads crossing the fields that were once bustling highways. Looking out across a world that didn’t seem so much different than how it had been when you were fifteen, you always had just a little bit more to talk about. And with 10k sitting next to you, you always had someone to talk to.

You glanced over your shoulder, making sure no one else was nearby the two of you.

“It almost looks the way it used to,” you said, fixing your eyes on the silhouette of a town that must be miles away.

“What do you mean?” 10k asked, turning his head slightly toward you, but not looking right at you.

“All of it, out there,” you said, leaning back just a bit onto your hands. “If I didn’t know better, I wouldn’t know anything was different. The homes are in ruins and the towns deserted and the people scared, but from up here...” you trailed off, giving a light shrug. “You can’t tell.”

“But you do know better,” 10k said, and this made you look at him. He looked the way he often did- pulled away, reserved. But you knew him better than anyone wandering the earth, dead or otherwise.

He was comfortable. He was at least happy to be sitting with you instead of splitting wood, as they often asked him to do. He was interested in what you were saying, even if what he brought to the conversation was a little bit of cynicism.

You looked back across the world, lifting your chin.

“Yeah,” you said, “I do.” Another few minutes passed in silence between the two of you, being serenaded by the October air rattling through the trees that had begun to lose their leaves, and the sound of the raging river far below that was responsible for the steep-cliffed mountain.

“Still,” you said, “It’s peaceful. I’d be much more scared if I stood down there than I am sitting here.”

“I’d rather you be here than down there,” he said, choking on his words just after they’d left his mouth. You came to his rescue as best as you could.

“Well, last time I was down there, I had a broken ankle. I don’t want to be doing that again, either.”

All too used to it you were, reeling him back from the conversation that neither of you wanted to have. You had to assume that if the situation was different, he’d be a romantic- the way he gave you an extra blanket or let you borrow his jacket made you sure of it. So sometimes, when you were alone, little things would slip out from between his lips, little things that told you just how much he cared for you.

But caring for someone in this world was dangerous. You both knew it- he, who had had to mercy his own father, and you, who hadn’t seen your parents since the day it began. It was a lesson that held onto the two of you like burrs, hooking and holding deeper every time you tried to pull it away.

Even though the two of you cared for each other, would die for each other, that little stinging burr kept the two of you from saying it out loud. If it was said out loud, it was real, and that reality would be much more dangerous.

So you always deflected the attention away from his little confessions. Not maliciously, not to push him away, but to protect you both. It was the least you could do. After all- he’d saved your life, all those months ago.

You’d returned the favor, of course, a few times. The first being when he drove you back to your home to find your parents, and instead found a Z with its arm stuck to the front door.

The door was still locked, there was no forced entry, other than this Z on the outside of the front door. But your parents were just... gone. And there was nothing to suggest where they went.

You scooted a little closer to Tommy, trying to get refuge from the wind.

“Hey, Tommy,” you began, eyes cast over the edge of the cliff and to the riverbanks far below. “Do you ever think about what would’ve happened if we’d found my parents?”

He knew how much it stung that you didn’t know what had happened to them. He knew how much it had hurt you to leave your home town and travel to Camp New World, leaving behind the one place you might find them. But you’d been injured, and young, and vulnerable, and you’d had no choice. He knew that it was a particular crack in your heart that was still raw, and likely would be for a long time.

So he put his arm around you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

He still smelled like the cigarette he’d swiped from one of the men around the camp earlier in the day. At one time, you hated the smell of tobacco. Now, it just reminded you of him.

“No,” he said, “I don’t think about things like that.” His first finger drew little shapes on your furthest shoulder, and you let out a breath. “But I guess I would be a little happier if you didn’t have their loss on your shoulders.”

That one, you’d let him get away with.

The sun was near setting, the first brushstrokes of orange and yellow beginning to touch the western horizon. The sunsets from Camp New World were almost always spectacular, thanks to the wide expanse of horizon that one could view.

But you turned your head, laying your cheek on his shoulder, closing your eyes. This was the most you ever let your guard down; when you were alone with him, and the world was safe enough, for the moment.

“I hope they’re dead,” you breathed out, and you felt his arm tighten around you. “So they don’t worry about me the way I worry about them. Is that bad?”

Slowly, carefully, you felt Tommy lower his head down, resting his temple onto you.

“No, I don’t think so,” he said, and you pulled one knee closer to you. “And even if it is, I still can’t blame you.” You let out a heavy breath, leaning further into him.

If it hadn’t been for the zombie apocalypse, you never would have met him. And maybe you wouldn’t choose him over putting the world back to the way it was, but you’d definitely think hard about the decision. He was a bright side to the blackness that the world had become, the only person who kept you alive, who gave you a reason to stay alive.

In moments like this, in which you sat with him, felt his fingertips run over your arm; in moments like this, all of the pain, the death, the mercy, all of it- it almost felt worth it.

-🦌 Roe

#reader insert #angst #10k #10k z nation #Tommy z nation #z nation #10k x reader #Tommy x reader #Alvin Murphy #fics

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tenspontaneite · 4 years ago

Text

Beyond the Moon Gardens - Extracts (1)

For lack of anything else to post today, I’m releasing some extracts from one of my non-public fanfictions – Beyond the Moon Gardens – as my participation in the @raayllum valentine’s event.

Information on and context of the story itself is below the cut. The 10k of snippets are also below the cut.

(General overview of the content of the snippets: established rayllum, fluff, domesticity, horn care, silliness, cuddling.)

Story information:

‘Beyond the Moon Gardens’ is a successor to ‘In the Moon Gardens’. The former was written in a month in late 2020, and has been worked on sporadically since. The latter was written in approximately three weeks between December 2019 and January 2020. Both are currently incomplete. I do not intend to publish either to the public in full, but may well post further extracts in time.

‘In the Moon Gardens’ is a story about Callum and Rayla getting married; however, the circumstances are deeply unpleasant and the experience is traumatic. ‘Beyond the Moon Gardens’ is considerably longer, and is focused on trauma recovery, hurt/comfort, relationship development, and fluff. The story is structured around a plotline involving rescue and disaster relief efforts in a Sunfire elf city called Lux Marea.

All snippets presented below take place on day 7 of the story’s timeline. They have been carefully curated for fluffiness for the purposes of Valentine’s day, and do not contain any of the hurt/comfort or post-traumatic scenes prevalent in the story at large. Some extracts have been edited to slot together and minimise empty space.

I may potentially post further snippets throughout the week if people are interested.

The extracts:

(Snippet 1: domesticity, fluff, city descriptions. Context: Callum and Rayla are staying in fancy diplomatic quarters in the city, where they arrived somewhat earlier in the day.)

Rayla turned away from her reflection and went for the door.

She glanced around, and found Callum in his own robe sat at the sofa in front of the window. Surprisingly, he wasn’t drawing. He was just staring out across the city, looking pensive.

“Not drawing?” She asked, and he startled, looking up at her in surprise.

He blinked. “Oh. I didn’t hear you.” He said sheepishly as she approached.

She snorted, and moved around the sofa’s edge to plant herself down beside him. “So I noticed.”

Callum smiled at her, looking for all the world like the best thing that had happened to him today was her sitting down next to him, eyes settling on her like he’d be perfectly happy to do nothing but look at her forever. She withstood that expression for only a single second before she had to lean in and kiss him. He made a pleased sound, reaching out to rest a hand on her back, fingers stroking reflexively over the thick wool of the robe. “You smell nice.” He said happily, turning his face sideways to tuck his nose behind her ear. He was undoubtedly getting a face full of wet hair that way, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Fruity, sort of.”

“They’ve got a lot of soaps in there.” She said, and her voice came out more soft than amused. Stars, but she loved him. “It’s nice. There’s all these soaps, and towels, and I think bath oils too.”

“You think?” He inquired, curious, still with his face in her neck. He pressed a kiss to her damp skin.

“Didn’t check them out properly or anything, but there was a drawer full of some fancy stuff. Bottles and the like. Looked like it might be bath oils.”

With a final kiss to the edge of her jaw, he pulled back to resume staring at her contentedly. “We’ll have to have a look later.” He said, and paused to give her an appreciative once-over. “That dressing gown looks nice on you.”

She rolled her eyes. “You say that about literally everything I wear.”

“That’s because you look good in everything.” He claimed staunchly, and honestly, he wasn’t looking half-bad in his dressing-gown either. The colour was familiar on him, but the casual comfortableness of it was weirdly pleasing to look at. Made him look cosy and cuddlable.

Rayla shook her head, then leaned in to kiss briefly along his jaw. It prickled a little. “You might want to see if they’ve got razors in there.” She said dryly. “You’re starting to prickle.”

He blinked, startled, and raised a hand to his jaw, feeling along it. Mercifully, he grew facial hair extremely slowly, making it less of an issue on the move, but it did still grow. He’d last made an attempt at shaving some two weeks ago, and that had sufficed up to now. “Elves don’t grow beards, though.” He said, after a moment. “I’d probably better just stick with mine.”

Once or twice, they’d made an attempt at shaving his bristles with Rayla’s swords, which had been kind of nerve-wracking, and plenty memorable. For lack of proper razors to be found in Xadia, they’d eventually ended up getting him a small knife that he claimed was alike enough to a ‘straight razor’ to work, though it periodically needed to be sharpened to an absurd degree. It was all very strange to her, even after a good half year of living with him. “Maybe.” She agreed at last, and gave him a sniff. Fresh from bathing, his state of uncleanliness was far more obvious to her nose than it had been before. “You should be getting washed up first though. You’ll make your dressing gown stink.”

He snickered. “Bet I reek to you now that you’re clean.”

“Just a tad.” She prodded him in the side until he started moving. “Off with you. Wash up.”

Evading her hands, he leaned in and planted a final kiss on her forehead before leaving, disappearing into the bathroom while she shook her head at him. She heard the water start up quite soon after, and eventually ended up staring out of the window like he had.

The city was still bright, both with sunlight and with the ongoing glory of the temple’s radiance. Settling into a sort of quiet lassitude, she watched it with eyes half-lidded, following the patterns of steaming light as though the smoke from a fire.

It was a striking city. Unlike Lux Aurea, which was so much gold it hurt to look at, Lux Marea was a thing of contrasts. The buildings were all built from the same dark stone as the bathroom had been done in, a grey that cast deep black shadows behind the gaze of the sun. And yet – every building was lined with gold. Accents on the corners, or moulding between the bricks, or running in thick channels up the walls…it gleamed, rich and distinct against the stone. Some of the largest, richest buildings had elaborate golden murals on their sides, luridly metallic and shining in the sun. All of that gold was glowing with magic now.

Rayla wasn’t much for aesthetics. But even she could appreciate the beauty in that view. She watched it for a while longer, lulled a little by the twisting patterns of glowing haze rising from the buildings, then stood and went to find something to do.

(Snippet 2: Calum and Rayla investigate the supplies their fancy bathroom is stocked with, discover bath bombs and are confused, Rayla points out various horn-care items, and Callum makes her very flustered by offering to use said items)

After that, they went through and classified each of the mysterious drawer goodies a little faster. They found more varieties of lotion, some weird nearly liquid soaps, and a pot of some mysterious mini chalky spheres whose purpose neither of them managed to guess until Callum’s hair dripped on one and it sizzled. “Is it supposed to go in water?” Rayla wondered, befuddled.

“No idea. Try it.” He suggested, and they took the rinsing pot, filled it with water, and dropped the thing in. It fizzed and foamed magnificently, releasing pleasant odours and bits of dried flower as it dissolved, and both of them stared at it with fascinated consternation.

“Is that for baths?” She asked him, befuddled. “What’s the point?”

“…Fun, maybe?” He offered, reaching out to swirl a finger in the foam. “It looked pretty cool, after all. Maybe you’re supposed to throw them in the bath for the fun of it?”

“Fun foam and nice smells?” With a huff, she put that pot aside as something to maybe experiment with if she felt like it. “Well, maybe.” She snorted, and in the last unexplored corner, found something highly important. “Oh thank god.” She said, in that way she’d absolutely picked up from Callum, and he looked over with interest.

“What did you find?”

She brandished it triumphantly. “Toothbrushes.”

“Oh thank god.” He echoed instantly, peering over. “My teeth feel disgusting.”

“You’re not the only one.” She withdrew both toothbrushes from the drawer and set them aside. “Well, at least we know what everything in there is now. Mystery solved.” She went to close it, but was stopped with a hand on her wrist.

“Wait, but what about those?” he asked, indicating the small collection of things she’d already set to one side of the drawer with the horn-scrub.

“Oh.” She’d forgotten he wouldn’t know those on sight. “Right. Well, this thing here-“ She plucked up a narrow, vaguely curved implement with a soft-smooth coating. “-is a horn buffer. For making horns smoother once you’ve already scrubbed all the rough bits out with a proper scrub.” She planted it in his hands, since he seemed fascinated by it, and withdrew a sort of soft spongey thing with a texture like felt. “Horn polisher. Same thing, kind of.” He took that as well, and she pulled out a pot of thick paste that turned out to be exactly what she thought it was when she uncapped it. This one had obviously attempted to smell as pleasant as possible, but it still had a very strong and distinctive edge to it. She wrinkled her nose. “Horn polish.” She said, closing it up again. “To be applied and used with the polisher. And lastly-“ She picked up one of the remaining bottles, “horn oil.”

He looked weirdly interested. “What’s the oil for?” He asked, leaning in. “I mean, I guess the rest of it’s to make your horns smooth and shiny, right? So what about this?”

“It’s kind of fancy and unnecessary, and expensive, so not everyone uses it, but usually you put it on after scrubbing or polishing.” She explained, withdrawing the bottles one at a time. “They smell nice, which is good after the polish, and letting it sink into the horns is supposed to make them healthier and glossier-looking. You can technically put it on multiple times a day if you’re really into your horn presentation, but pretty much no one bothers.”

“Because it’s expensive?” Callum guessed, and she made a so-so noise.

“Well, there’s that.” She said dryly. “But it’s just kind of a lot of hassle, you know? If you’re already washing and doing your hair and keeping your horns not-gross, it’s just extra fuss you don’t really need.” She shook her head. “It’s less effort than full on polishing, I suppose, but I’ve never been bothered about polishing my horns except on special occasions anyway. It’s a lot of work.”

“Huh.” He said, in a sort of weird tone of voice. Rayla turned to him, and found his expression similarly strange. Thoughtful, interested, and a little bit furtive.

She eyed him suspiciously, picked up an armful of the supplies they’d set aside, and stood up with them. “What’s that look for?” She asked archly, setting things onto the broad side of the bath. He followed her lead, picking up the rest of it and standing, looking a little shifty.

“What’s what look for?” he asked innocently, putting it all out in neat rows.

“I know that face.” She told him, unimpressed. “I’ve told you so many times I know that face. That’s your dumb idea face. So out with it.”

For a moment, Callum looked sheepish. Then he cleared his throat, and looked at her, and she reflexively fell silent. “I…was wondering if you’d let me do your horns.” He said at last, and she made a strangled noise in the back of her throat.

“What?”

(Snippet 3: tail end of the horn-care discussion, domesticity, Rayla bemused by the concept of room service, Callum pestering Rayla for details on how horn care works, and discussion of one of Rayla’s newer hobbies)

“That’ll be nice, then.” He said, sounding very at peace with the idea. “I can wash and comb out your hair, maybe. Give you some hornrubs.”

Her cheeks heated. “Callum.” She complained. “That’s so sappy.”

He pressed his face close alongside hers, and she could feel his smile against her cheek. “Treat you real good.” He said, very contentedly. “I’m gonna spoil you rotten.”

Rayla managed a strangled, deeply embarrassed sound in the back of her throat. A little indignant, she protested “You can’t just say things like that.”

“I can, and I did.” Callum grinned against her skin, and leaned in further to kiss her near the corner of her lips. “Love you.” He lifted a hand from around her waist, fingers settling at her jaw with a gentle suggestion of movement. Feeling near to bursting with mortification and adoration, she grumbled wordlessly but followed his hand, allowing him to lead her face around so he could kiss her on the mouth.

“You,” she muttered, into his lips, “need to get dressed.”

He paused, then huffed a surprised breath over her skin. “That’s right, I’m still just wearing a towel.” He remembered, ruefully. “At least I’m drier now.”

“It’s been ages, of course you’re drier.” Rayla shook her head at him, then nudged at his arms until he let her go, extricating herself from his embrace. She had difficulty looking him in the eye when she turned, after all of that. “…Get dressed.” She repeated, softer, and shoved the dressing gown he’d hung nearby into his arms. She leaned in, kissed him once on the lips, and then turned away to leave the bathroom.

She settled on the sofa, ensconcing herself beneath the soft blanket she’d found, and stared out at the city while her heart recovered. Sometimes, she loved Callum enough that it was a little hard to cope with, like she was afraid that the emotion in her would rupture if it built too far. He was used to her retreating a little at times like that, just long enough to breathe and feel slightly less overwhelmed.

He took long enough in the bathroom that, eventually, she guessed that he was shaving. That disappointed her, a little. She liked to watch him when he shaved. It was always so strange to her, something quintessentially human; a bizarre banal grooming ritual that reminded her again and again that he wasn’t an elf, he really was a whole different kind of being to her, and his humanity was made of so many little things. He never failed to chuckle at her for how she watched him shaving, but had grown very used to her keeping him company for it.

She sighed, and looked out on the city under the sun, and regained her emotional footing. By the time he emerged, clad once again in the dark red dressing gown, she had her equilibrium back and looked up gladly at his return.

“Where’d this blanket come from?” He asked, bemused, coming over to join her. She held one end up so he could sit down under it with her.

“One of the drawers. There’s a bunch of stuff in here.” She informed, and once he was seated she didn’t waste any time in reaching out to run her fingers along his still-damp jaw. It was so smooth. She murmured, pleased, cupping his face between both hands.

He coloured a little, looking across at her with soft eyes. “You’re so weird.” He told her, sounding utterly besotted, and she leaned in to kiss him lightly along that jawline.

“Love you.” Rayla said contentedly, and drew back just enough to nestle firmly against his side. He wove an arm around her back and turned his head to kiss her at the brow.

“Love you too.”

After a good bit of cuddling and watching the city together, Callum admitted to wanting a drink and Rayla to not knowing whether their waterskins were still filled. They were, as it happened, but-

“You know, if you wanted fresher water, or moonberry juice, we could just ask for it.” He pointed out. “All we’d have to do is open the door and ring a bell and someone would come up, and we’d ask for a drink, and they’d have it up for us just like that.”

She shook her head, utterly exasperated at the idea. “That’s so weird.” She said, and then actually considered it. “…Let’s do it.”

He laughed, and obligingly got up and went to the receiving room to fetch the bell. He mostly-closed the intervening door for her sake, so that when a servant responded to the ring she didn’t feel particularly on edge about it. They couldn’t see her. It was fine.

After a short conversation with the servant, they were off, and Callum shut the outer door before returning. “Five minutes.” He said, and true to his words, there was a knock at the door not too much later. He went to answer it and brought back an actual platter, balancing an entire jug of moonberry juice, an entire jug of water, and two glasses.

“Did you ask for a whole jug?” She asked, disbelievingly, as he set it down on the low table ahead of the sofa. “Or the water?”

“Nope. Actually, they passed along their apologies for not leaving a jug of water in here in the first place. Apparently that’s their usual thing to do, but since they were hurrying for us it got forgot.” He poured her a glass of juice, and then some for himself, and sat back.

She snorted. “What a terrible standard of service.” She said, mockingly. “I mean really, forgetting to leave us wee little glasses and chilled water, what is this place coming to?”

He snickered at an inopportune moment, very nearly making a mess with the glass he’d been in the process of drinking from. “Don’t say that around Vervain, I think she’d actually explode.”

“Right there on the spot.” Rayla agreed. “It’d make a terrible mess.”

They traded a few light-hearted quips on the subject of the accommodations while they had a drink, then they set it all aside for later. Callum, who was clearly angling for it, managed to get her onto the topic of how exactly a proper horn care-and-polish was supposed to go, and she spent pretty much the entirety of that torn between being increasingly embarrassed and increasingly amused. He was so interested, like she was sharing arcane magical knowledge instead of stupid basic grooming tips.

“I mean, I’ve seen you using your horn-scrub on the road sometimes, to file away rough or flaky bits, right?” He was saying, while she leaned over to lay against his chest. He reflexively put an arm around her even while gesturing with the other one. “You kind of go…with the sort of curvy lines in your horns? Like one at a time?”

“They’re called ridges, Callum.” She informed him, incredibly amused. “And yes. You need to file along them all one by one, and be careful to keep the shape too. If you do it badly you’ll flatten out the tops of the ridges and it looks really stupid.”

He stared down at her horns with fascination, and lowered his gesturing hand to trace the shape of – she presumed – one of her horn-ridges in detail. She made a flustered sort of murmur at him, but he seemed too busy to notice. “Right, so, hm.” He almost seemed to be speaking to himself. “Yeah, if you just file it from the top it’d all flatten out. So you have to sort of work around each one? Following the curve?”

“That’s why Moonshadow horn-scrubs are so much more complicated.” She informed him. “We need the wee fiddly parts to get between all the ridges and file it right without losing the shapes. Takes forever. Our horns are more of a pain than almost any other kind of elf’s.” She grinned up at him. “Unlucky for you.”

“Are you kidding?” He asked, incredulously. “This is great. Means I get so much longer to spend on you. You never let me spoil you enough.”

She processed that, and groaned, burrowing her face into the wool gown over his chest. “You’ll change your tune soon enough.” She muttered, but wasn’t entirely convinced. Callum really was an incredible sap when it came to doing things for her. “It takes so stupidly long.”

“I’m counting on it.” He declared happily, and she huffed.

“You’re ridiculous.” She informed him, and after nearly ten more minutes of him trying to wrangle intricately detailed horn-polishing knowledge out of her, just rolled her eyes and said with exasperation “It’s like polishing armour, Callum. Or boots. You just buff it up, then go at it with polish on the polisher for ages. There’s not much of a trick to it.” She paused, but did add “Gets kind of messy though. The filing stage puts horn dust and bits everywhere, and once you start polishing you get like…murky polish liquid all over your hands. Better put a towel down.”

Eventually, after enough sitting around that the cuddling alone wasn’t engrossing enough anymore, Callum did go and get his sketchbook and immediately sat down to begin producing what Rayla was certain would be the first of many, many drawings of the city. He drew it as seen from above first, and Rayla settled in to watch with half-lidded eyes.

She’d grown very used to spending time watching Callum draw. In large part, this was because he tended to spend a lot of his free time doing it, and she was often around when that happened. It was quite satisfying, to sit there and observe as the shapes on the page took form. But even so…

There was only so much of watching him draw that she could do before she started getting bored. Throughout their journeying, it had rarely got to that point. What with the time constraints of camp-craft and travelling, there’d been little enough spare time that Rayla hadn’t felt compelled to find anything else to do. Now, though, she found with surprise that her fingers were itching for her knives.

“Huh.” She said to herself, with interest, and Callum turned his head to peer at her.

“Hm?”

“My knives.” She said, and then realised this wasn’t especially helpful. “My carving knives. Just realised I’m hankering for them a bit. That’s never really happened before.”

“Oh.” He thought, then looked pleased. “Looks like you’re starting to make a habit of it after all. That’s really nice.”

“Less nice when I don’t actually have the knives.” She snorted, and considered her empty hands.

Rayla, on the whole, tended towards active ways of passing the time. She liked to train, and she liked to exercise, and if Callum was free she always liked to go flying with him. But inevitably, after half a year spent together, there had been plenty of afternoons and evenings in their off-time when she was too tired to go out for training, or Callum was spending time drawing and she wanted to be around him, and she ended up with nothing to do.

He’d been the one to gently pester her into taking up some sort of hobby. At first she’d just grumpily sharpened her weapons over and over again, but with enough work he’d got her to try other things. He’d suggested either knitting or whittling, on the basis that both involved the use of stabby implements, and she was a fan of those. Knitting she hadn’t taken to. But whittling…

At first, she’d just done it because he’d prodded her into it, and she didn’t hate it, and there was nothing better to do, so she might as well. But now, considering her empty hands with consternation, Rayla realised for the first time that she actually kind of wanted to be doing it. When had that happened?

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Pick up some things in the city tomorrow, maybe.” He suggested, and turned back to his drawing.

“Bit of a waste, when I’ve got a plenty good enough set of knives at home.”

“You don’t need to get a full set. But it could be nice to have a couple of the main ones around, for travelling with.” He shrugged. “You can practice on any random bits of wood, right? So it’s mainly the knives you need.”

She snorted. She’d learned enough to know that the type of wood one chose was, in fact, very important. But…yeah, for messing around like she did, random wood was usually fine. If splintery. “Maybe.” She said in the end, already thinking of the knife she used most. “It’s not a bad idea. Clothes and supplies are the priority, though. So maybe if there’s anything left after that.”

“We’ll need cold-weather gear, if we’re going through the Shiverthorns in winter.” He remarked, and huddled into the blanket like the mere thought was making him cold. “Thick cloaks and stuff.”

“Which are expensive.” She reminded. “And also heavy. It’ll slow you down.”

He shrugged. “I figure that’s okay. We won’t be in a huge hurry to get back, after all.”

(Snippet 4: Callum and Rayla discuss dinner options, watch the sunset, and investigate the light fixtures. Context: in this story, I worldbuild Sunfire elves as some weird blend of French and Roman.)

He hummed by way of agreement, and pulled her tighter in to his side. “For now, let’s try not to worry about that.” He said, determinedly. “Today our job is to relax and rest up, and that’s it.”

Rayla sighed, and shifted around to lay part-way across his front, face half into the red wool at his chest. “I can probably do that.”

They cuddled for what actually didn’t end up being that long, because there was a knock at the door. It echoed sharply through the polished wood, even with the intervening door closed. Rayla, who’d heard no footsteps of any kind due to the ostensible soundproofing, stiffened immediately.

Callum blinked, then carefully extricated himself from her. “I’ll go get it.” He said, and she didn’t object. She didn’t relish the thought of being seen by strangers when she was in her bathrobe. That was private.

He unlocked and opened the receiving room door, closed it behind him, and then unlocked and opened the outer door. There was actually a decent degree of sound loss between there and Rayla’s current spot, so she couldn’t hear what was being said beyond stray words. After a while, Callum said something in a distinctly goodbye-ish sort of voice and the encounter ended. He considerately locked both doors for her on his way in.

Over his arm, he was holding a neat stack of clothing and armour. “Already?” She asked, startled, and watched as he set it all down on the bed.

“Already.” He agreed, seemingly pleased. “I guess their drying spells really are useful. Look, they’ve cleaned your armour. And our boots.”

Rayla lifted herself from beneath the blanket to go over and look. All of their things looked fresh and new, bereft of the dull beige hues imbued by travel and sleeping in dust and dirt. It half looked like they’d re-dyed some of it, honestly, to get the clean colours back. She lifted Callum’s scarf from the pile, sniffed it, and hummed at it.

“Laundry smell?” He asked, amused, and she shrugged.

“Unsurprisingly.” She considered putting it on him, but in the end decided she was enjoying the look of him in the bathrobe, all cosy and comfy-looking. “What else were you talking about?”

“Hm?”

“With the servant.”

“Oh.” He paused to collect his thoughts. “Dinner stuff. He wanted to tell me the options they’ve got, so we can order ahead of time.”

Rayla made a thoughtful noise, and drew him by the wrist back over to the sofa again. “And?”

“You want me to list it all off?” She nodded, and obligingly he went off listing the various items on the menu, many of which were evidently examples of bizarre Sunfire ideas about cooking. Snails, really? Frog legs? Her nose wrinkled at that one, and Callum’s lips quirked. “They serve glow toad too.” He admitted ruefully. “I mean, I guess I heard they were delicious, but it’s one thing to hear it and another thing to have it on the menu, you know?”

She made a face. “Ez would never forgive us.”

“Bait would never forgive us.” He agreed, snickering.

“And besides – ew.” Rayla shook her head, and waved her hand. “What else?”

He went through all of the selections, drinks and desserts included, and then finished up by saying “He left a sort of booklet thing behind with it all written down, if you want to look over it.”

She stared at him with exasperation. “Callum. You really just stood there and said it all when you could have just handed me the bloody menu?”

“Well, you did ask.” He said, like this was reasonable, and she sighed fondly at him.

“You dumb prince.” She told him, affectionate, and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek before going to look for the menu.

By this point, it was around four in the afternoon, and the sun seemed to be making a very definite bid for descent. She retrieved the Booklet of Food Options and retreated to the sofa with it, where Callum had already planted himself to watch the city. There was a hint of yellow-green in the bright clear sky, and the angle of light from the sinking sun was casting some particularly dramatic shadows. The temple was still gleaming with light off to the side, and the golden circuitry through the city still exhaling. She stared at it for a moment, certain that tonight’s sunset really was going to be spectacular, and then opened the menu to start looking.

It had been long enough since lunch that the sight of so many food options was plenty enough to make her start considering the idea of an early dinner. In an hour or two, maybe. Some of it was too weird or too exotic to consider, but there was a lot that wasn’t.

She passed the booklet over when she was done making selections, but Callum seemed too occupied with the burgeoning sunset to want to look at it. She snorted, leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, and then leaned comfortably into his side to watch the city.

The sun fell over a period of around half an hour, sinking lower and lower, until the sky filled with such intense yellows and deep reds that it seemed almost to have caught fire. The grey slate of the city turned bloody red in the light, every golden trace lit up and shining in the growing dark. The few wispy clouds left in the sky were shining too, until the sun began to pass beneath the lip of the sea on the horizon, and the blue-green edges of the dusk glittered with stars.

“That,” He said, very softly, when dusk was ebbing into twilight, “was a really incredible view.”

Rayla had little artistry in her heart, but she’d appreciated that sunset. She knew that by contrast it must have touched Callum deeply. She looked at him, taking in his expression, finding it every bit as amazed and awed and happy as she could have hoped for. Her heart fluttered, happy for that he was happy, and in the warmth of that contentment she reached over to cup his cheek with her hand.

He looked at her, leaning into the hand, and offered her a small and very soft smile. Her thumb smoothed over his cheek as he lifted his hand to settle atop hers. Wordless, she leaned in to kiss him, warm and brief, and lingered there close by his face for a long while after their lips parted. He sighed very quietly, entirely happy and entirely at ease. It was peaceful in a way she’d dearly missed.

Feeling utterly suffused with warmth, Rayla nestled in beside him, fingers hooking lightly in the soft red wool of his robe. His arm came around her, and both of them sighed, and both of them settled, and it was quiet.

Neither of them felt the inclination to move or speak for quite a while. The sky was dark and full of stars by the time she shifted, and the city’s golden circuitry shining boldly through the shadow. The Moon, ascendant in the sky, was very nearly full.

“Might not be so bad after all, staying here a while.” She said, finally, and pressed her lips to his neck. “Comfy, nice bathroom, nice views…and the food options look kind of incredible, honestly.”

He chuckled, soft and fond. “Bit of a weird honeymoon.” He murmured into her hair. “But I’ll take it.”

She huffed. “Honeymoon.” She repeated, shaking her head.

Well. She supposed if they’d had to go through that whole forced marriage ordeal, they did at least deserve to get a nice holiday out of it. Even if most of that holiday was going to be spent working, the not-working parts of the day looked to be a lot fancier and more luxurious than they were back home.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Was her conclusion, in the end. “Did you decide what you’ll be eating?”

“Pretty much.” He kissed her brow. “You ready to order? It’s still kind of early.”

“Eh. It’ll do.” She shrugged, and listed off her selections. He kissed her again, then gently untangled himself from her limbs to go off and summon a servant.

The room had gone darker while the sun set, and the soft yellow glow of the fireless light fixtures along the walls had grown more prominent. Now a little curious, Rayla took the opportunity to investigate one, and on closer inspection found it to be some sort of…weird bioluminescent plant. Or maybe animal? It had long rigid tube-like structures that had plainly been cultivated into ornamental shapes, that looked almost like some sort of stone, though it had obviously been painted or dyed the usual deep red. It exuded a number of softly glowing yellow-orange tendrils from the openings at the end of the tubes, short and blunt but weirdly pretty.

She reached out cautiously to touch one, and at once the tendrils retracted inside the tube, the light dimming. Startled, she drew back to watch it, but the tendrils didn’t start to tentatively reappear again for another minute, during which she heard the light murmurs of Callum conversing with whatever servant he’d summoned.

When Moonshadow elves wanted light after dark, they just used enchantments, or glowstone, like normal people. Fancy Sunfire elves, however, apparently favoured plants. Or animals. She honestly wasn’t sure which this one was. Some sort of land-coral?

“I ordered the food.” Callum said, when he returned. “They said it’ll be about half an hour. And they’ll bring it all up at the same time so we don’t get disturbed twice.”

“Perfect.” She pronounced, with satisfaction, and then dragged him over to meet the light fixtures. Predictably, he spent a good ten fascinated minutes investigating the weird glowing polyps, and then a while longer sketching one out, and was half-way through that when the food arrived.

(Snippet 5: after dinner, Callum and Rayla engage in some silliness, then cuddle. Domesticity.)

“I’m so full I’m not going to move for a week.” Rayla announced, after staggering her way back through to their sofa, followed by an amused Callum. “It’s going to take at least that long to digest all of that.”

“That might make it tricky to get supplies.” He said, pretend-thoughtful. “But I’m sure we can work something out.”

She snorted, patted him on the shoulder, and then promptly pulled him into her side when he started looking at her in the imminent-cuddles sort of way. He hummed contentedly, turning his face into her shoulder, breath warming the wool over her collarbone.

“This bathrobe is so comfy.” He said happily, words muffled by wool. “It’s so nice.”

Having had very similar sentiments about his bathrobe earlier, she quite agreed. “Shame they didn’t include wool pyjamas, really.”

He didn’t offer any response for that, just snuggled, putting an arm around her waist. It was almost a little uncomfortable, really, what with how full she was, but she didn’t protest. She just held him close, smoothed her free hand over his hair, and looked out over the city. In the dark, watching the vaporous light rise felt very much like watching fire. It was very entrancing.

Some time later, Callum started to show signs of beginning to fall asleep on her. She looked down at him, snorted, and then nudged him until he stirred. “If you fall asleep now you’ll be up too late.” She informed him as he made plaintive noises at her. “I’m not having you exhausted and useless for your magic channelling nonsense tomorrow.”

“But you’re too comfy.” He complained, and she smirked.

“That sounds like an invitation to be less comfy.”

He opened an eye to peer at her suspiciously. “What do you mean, ‘that sounds’ – hrk!” His words cut off as, unceremoniously, she swept him up with an arm under his back and another under his knees, on her feet with a quick shift of her weight and his. She grinned down at him, finding him instantly and distinctly awake. “….Honestly this is still pretty comfy.” He said, weakly, when he’d spent enough time staring wide-eyed at her to recover his words.

Rayla pretended at thoughtfulness. “That sounds like a challenge.” She said, and he looked alarmed.

“It wasn’t! It wasn’t!” He protested, to no avail; she stepped around the sofa, judged her angle, and tossed Callum at the bed.

He wasn’t particularly aerodynamic, but her aim had been good enough anyway; he sailed neatly between the posts at the corners and impacted decadent Sunfire quilting with a muffled oof. She was laughing at him outright when he turned, staring at her with a sort of red-faced stupefaction that told her exactly what he thought of the whole experience. “Your face right now,” she managed, doubling over to snicker in his direction. Hilarious.

“You know, there’s a saying,” he began, a little dazed. “About trusting someone as far as you could throw them.” He pushed himself up on his elbows. “You could probably trust someone a lot, is what I’m getting at.”

“…I actually do sort of know how far I could throw you, now that I think about it.” Rayla said, thinking back. “It comes up in assassin training sometimes. Throwing teammates at walls and the like, to give them a leg up. I lobbed someone about your size around six, seven metres once.” She paused, and added “Lengthways, I mean. Throwing someone upwards is a lot harder.”

This did not make him any less wide-eyed. “That’s like, over twenty feet,” he marvelled, looking at her with plain admiration. “You’re amazing.”

She huffed, reflexively bashful at the praise, and shook her head. “Amazing at throwing people, at least.” She said dryly, and went over to stare down at him from the foot of the bed. “How’s the bed?”

“…Very nice, actually.” He said, after a pause for consideration. “You’re pretty bad at making things less comfy.”

“You’re definitely awake now though.” She pointed out smugly. “So my work here is done.”

He snorted, sitting up fully to beckon to her. Obligingly, she bent forwards to meet him with a brief kiss. “Hard not to wake up when someone throws you half-way across the room.”

She rolled her eyes. “It was not that far.” She said, and after a moment made the executive decision to fall forwards onto the bed, face impacting the plush duvet and sinking in. Her feet hung from the edge, and Callum giggled.

“Hehehe toes.” He said, and reached out to poke one. He found her four-toed feet amusingly charming every time he was reminded of them, which would have been funnier, except her feet were pretty ticklish and she twitched every time he prodded like this.

“I will kick you.” She warned, and he subsided with another snicker. Instead of messing with her any further, he shuffled over and started playing with her hair. “Mm. Better.” With a sigh, she closed her eyes and tipped her head forwards, face smooshing deeper into the bed. His fingers carded through her hair, nails trailing lightly at her scalp.

“You didn’t brush it.” He noted, carefully working out a couple of tangles, and she shrugged.

“Couldn’t be bothered. ‘Sides, it only tangles again when we cuddle, anyway.”

He hummed, and went through it again more purposefully, parting it carefully around her horns as he looked for and eliminated a few knots. He brushed around her hornbeds and she shivered. Apparently noticing the reaction, he did it again, more deliberately, chuckling at the way she murmured and pushed her head into his hand. “You look like a shadowpaw when you do that.” He said, affectionately, scritching gently around her horns. “Headbutting people’s hands when they pet you.”

“Anyone else and I’d be cutting off their hands, trust me.” She mumbled at him, already a little indistinct and fuzzy around the edges of her thoughts. Hornbed-scritches did that. “…Suppose the shadowpaw’d do that too. Except they’d bite the hand off instead, if they didn’t like you.”

“What I’m hearing is that if you were an animal you’d probably be a shadowpaw.” He sounded very fond.

“Mm. Guess so.” What would he be? Something doggish, probably. Friendly and playful and loyal, and then all teeth and fierceness when threatened. That sounded about right…

She drifted, a little. It was hard not to, when collapsed onto a comfy surface with one’s hornbeds being rubbed. He stopped after a while though, evidently noticing her drowsiness, and stroked a hand over her head between the horns as he chuckled. “Now who’s falling asleep?” He teased, and she made a half-hearted rude noise at him.

“’s your fault.” She muttered at him, indistinct around the duvet in her face.

“Uhuh.” He sounded amused, and stroked the back of her head again.

(Snippet 6: very detailed depiction of horn care, which in-setting is considered intimate)

She was suddenly very glad he’d interrogated her so persistently on the procedure earlier, because she wasn’t at all certain she’d have been able to tell him anything more sophisticated than ‘um’ when he was literally about to do her horns for her.

“You’re so cute.” He told her affectionately, obviously very aware of her current emotional state, and then finally set soapy hands onto her horns.

“Oh my god.” She muttered, cheeks flaming, feeling the weight of his hands, the subtle pull at the rest of her skull. She had never been quite so aware of her horns as when he started soaping them up and washing them, and it didn’t take long at all for the warmth of his skin to soak far enough through the keratin so that she could feel it in the living horn. A little while later, he applied the coarse-bristled-brush-side of the horn-scrub to her left horn, and she made a tiny embarrassed sound at the ceiling. “You should scrub them harder than that.” She managed after a moment, since he really was being too gentle about it. “Horns are tough, you know.”

He hummed with interest, and obliged, scrubbing hard enough that it pulled at her head a little. The towel-pillow had been a very good idea of his, really. “How much horn care do you normally do?” He asked, curious, getting the washcloth to rinse her horn before scrubbing again. “I’ve seen you file them, but…”

“…Usually just this. A good scrub to make sure they’re clean, and then filing down the rough bits.” Rayla offered a mortified noise. “But it’s been weeks and I’ve not even done that. They’re probably so dirty…”

“Shush, they’re fine.” He huffed at her, and kept on at her left horn until he was satisfied with it, moving over to the other one. Rayla regarded the ceiling with a persistently red face the whole while, cheeks feeling nearly as warm as the half of her body that was still in bathwater. “I wonder if your face is going to be this red the whole time.” He remarked, when he’d apparently finished with the washing.

“Probably.” She muttered, self-consciously, and felt her gut squirm when she felt the first experimental scrape of the fine filing parts on her horn.

Callum laughed softly, and started setting to work with the file. “If you say so.”

For all that he’d never done this before, the muted sensory feedback Rayla gleaned from her inner-horns and her ears suggested that he seemed to be doing fine with it. He readjusted the file enough that she could be relatively sure he was respecting the curve of the ridges, and worked slowly along the shape of each one, from the hornbed to the pointed tip, over and over again.

As she’d told him, it was a long process. It took a long time. Long enough that, contrary to her words, her embarrassment did start to burn out a bit, the red of her cheeks easing until she only felt a little flushed, a little flustered.

“I see why you thought the cloak would be a good idea.” Callum said ruefully, a while in. She could only imagine how much horn-dust and flaky bits of keratin must be littering it. “This does get kind of messy.”

“Told you.”

“For now this is just making your horns go sort of…pale, and scratched-looking.” He commented, working the file around one of the ridges on the underside. “I guess it goes dark again once you start buffing it?”

She made a small despairing noise, but agreed “Yeah, basically. Honestly all you really need to do is wipe it over with a wet cloth and it’ll stop looking like that. But…”

“But I’m not stopping there.” He said, with evident satisfaction, and a little more heat rose in her cheeks.

He was slow and meticulous about the filing, but got through it a lot more quickly than she could have if she’d done it herself. It was hard to work on your own horns – the angle was bad, you couldn’t see what you were doing, and adjusting to get the undersides was a huge pain in the arms. By contrast, doing it for someone else was just…a lot easier.

Finally, he set the scrub down and went for the washcloth again, soaping up and rubbing her horns clear of dust, poring over them for any spots he’d missed. When he was finally satisfied, he said “and now I buff them?”

“Mmhm.” She confirmed, bringing her hands up to hide her face for a moment. So, at her confirmation, he started on that part next. He evidently hadn’t expected how vigorous the buffing and polishing stages of horns were, because she kept telling him to press the buffer harder, and he kept making worried noises about it, and she had to keep assuring him that no that’s how it’s supposed to be, and eventually she start started laughing helplessly at him.

“I feel like I’m going to hurt your neck,” he complained at her, when the strength of the requisite motions pulled at her head. “Or like, hurt your hornbeds, or something.”

“I’ll be fine, Callum.” She assured him, still laughing, mirth and embarrassment squirming in her chest. “This is just how it goes, you know.”

“At least I brought you a pillow.” He sighed, and obligingly kept on. A fair while later, when he was done with the buffing and had washed her horns again, he leaned back a bit to admire his work. “That really is looking a lot smoother and shinier.”

“And you’ve not even done the polishing yet.” Rayla felt very weird then, laying back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. She’d been through embarrassment, and then amusement, and now…now, there was something else. She felt almost calm. Almost settled, like she’d finally started to grow used to this. Like the novelty of his hands on her horns had worn through.

Now, she felt kind of comfortable. At ease, in a way. Her mind was drifting in the way it did when Ethari or Runaan had helped her with her horns before, like this was just a normal thing. A normal thing that took ages, and that one had to daydream through to pass the time.

“I’m actually really looking forward to seeing what they look like when I’m done.” He was saying, as he put the buffing things down and went to get the bottle of polish and the polishing tool. “I’ve never seen your horns all done up before.”

“Maybe now you’ll finally understand what I mean when I say my horns have gone gross.” She pondered, and he laughed. “Finally you’ll know what well-kept horns are supposed to look like.”

“I have seen other Moonshadow elves’ horns, you know.” He informed her, obviously amused, and she heard the cap of the polish opening. A moment later, she smelled it, because there was really no mistaking that smell. “Yours still look nice no matter how long it’s been since you scrubbed them.”

Rayla made a disagreeable noise at him, and he snickered back, and then finally set about the polishing.

She’d told him, earlier, that horn-polish was pretty potent stuff, and that’s why you applied it to a sort of spongy cloth attached to a handle, rather than scrubbing with it by hand. At full strength, it actually melted the outer surface of the horn – just a little, just enough to meld it all down into a smooth, gleaming, perfect surface. Diluted polish was fine if you did it regularly, but with how long it had been for her…she’d told him to keep it undiluted. And it stank.

Her nose wrinkled, even with all the pleasant soap smells competing, and held her neck lax as Callum worked on her horns vigorously enough to pull her head back with every other movement. That was just how it went, so she wasn’t bothered. The towel was enough padding that it didn’t hurt, so she just laid there and let him work.

“Think I might actually nearly be done.” He pronounced at last, sounding genuinely a little out of breath. She’d told him it was hard work, and evidently he’d found that out for himself. He sounded very pleased, though. Like he’d done a good job and knew it, and was plenty proud about it. “Just got to wash all this polish muck off, right? Soap your horns up again.”

“That is the last stage.” She agreed, trying to glance up at him, but all she could really see was the top of his head. “Aside from oiling, I suppose.”

(Snippet 7: aftermath of horn care, domesticity)

It was then, by the sink, that Rayla finally removed the towel from her head, and Callum made a loud noise of pure joy at her. She stared at him, alarmed, and then noticed where he was actually looking. Oh.

“Shiny!” He exclaimed, gleeful, and reached out to stroke her horns. “Oh my god.”

“Callum!” She complained, but she was already laughing, because honestly she should have predicted this reaction. He practically groped at her horns, bright-faced and beaming, and she flushed all the while she stood still and let him. “Are you going to let me see them any time soon?” She asked him, dry. “Or are you just going to stand there groping them?” He subsided at that with a very high-pitched giggle.

“Hehehe,” he offered, and then “yes, go look! You need to tell me how well I did.” He took her by the shoulders and turned her to the mirror, his face lingering by her shoulder in her reflection with the enormous grin still very much in residence there. He was such a dork, honestly.

Finally, Rayla tipped her head forwards and inspected her horns. They were…shiny. Very shiny. Every ridge had been filed and buffed and polished to a gleam, and when she turned her head, the light glimmered off of them like they’d been waxed. Her eyebrows went up, and she lifted her own hand to feel along one. It was smooth. Entirely dry, but as she ran her finger along one ridge, it felt so smooth. Their dark colour was actually glossy. “…Wow.” She said, a little admiringly, and tilted her head to watch the light move. “That is shiny.”

He looked absolutely delighted by that response, as if he’d needed her go-ahead to be certain that, yes, that was definitely impressively shiny. She smiled, helpless to stop it, and turned her head to kiss him on the cheek; her reflection mirrored her.

“You did a great job, Callum.” She told him fondly, her cheeks pink at having seen exactly how great a job he’d done. Stars, but the second anyone saw her they’d know exactly who was responsible for those horns. “My horns haven’t been this shiny in years.”

Callum looked at her like she’d hung the Moon, like this praise was enough to render him utterly overjoyed. He tugged her around enough to kiss her, deep and excited and full of energy, so much so that she made a muffled noise of surprise into his lips. It caught her off-guard, and she was feeling a little breathless and a little dazed when he drew away a few moments later. “You have to let me do this again.” He told her, beaming. “I’m going to keep your horns this shiny, just you wait.”

Her cheeks flamed, and she ducked her head, suddenly flustered. “You can’t just say things like that.” She complained at him, and of course he looked utterly unrepentant. He leaned in and kissed her, then moved and kissed her on one cheek, and then on the other cheek, and his hands were already up and stroking along the wide bases of her horns again.

“Smooth,” he commented, gleefully, fingers warm around her horns. His face was very, very close to hers. “They’re so nice.”

The heat in her face decidedly didn’t abate. “Oh my god, Callum.” She mumbled, shaking her head, and he just kissed her again. Feeling increasingly dazed, she said into his lips “you know, it’s a lot faster if you’re doing it regularly. You can skip the filing and just buff and polish instead.”

He considered this excellent news, if the way he kissed her was any indication.

Finally, she summoned the force of will to reach up and peel his hands from her horns, stepping away. It was not easy, because – because when he looked like that, so elated and alive and full of delight, when he kissed her so enthusiastically, it was hard to think of pretty much anything. She looked across at him, incredibly flustered, and couldn’t see anything except how beautiful he was. “You, calm down.” She ordered him, gruffly, and led him by the shoulder to the basin. “We came in here to brush our teeth, you numpty. Not fondle Rayla’s horns.”

“But Rayla’s horns are really really pretty.” Callum pointed out cheerfully, and she made an involuntary noise half-way between embarrassment and pleasure.

“Be that as it may, Rayla and her horns want you to brush your teeth now so we can go to bed.” She said, and she shuffled over to the basin to make good on her words.

(Snippet 8: Callum and Rayla go to bed finally. Cuddling, fluff.)

It proved as magnificently soft and comfy as she might have expected, when she peeled back the covers and climbed in. Callum meanwhile was perusing the canopy with consideration.

“Curtains or no curtains?” He asked her, and she considered it.

“Curtains.” She decided, and watched with satisfaction as he reached out and unhooked the bed’s attendant drapery. She reached to the one closest to her, and he got the rest; it all fell into place, a rich dark red that blocked out the light from the room around them and cast their bed into soothing shadow. Something settled in her then, that hadn’t quite been at ease in the unfamiliar surroundings, or the openness of the room. She sighed, and burrowed down under the duvet, laying her head back on the pillows.

He joined her, lifting the covers and slipping in, closing his eyes for a second in obvious profound enjoyment. “This is so much better than hard cold floor.” He murmured happily, and she smiled, tugging him to her with a hand at his shoulder. He went gladly, and within moments they were pressed close, legs tangling, the warmth of his skin comforting against her own.

“Been a long few weeks.” She sighed, resting her forehead against his, and he lifted a hand to stroke her cheek.

“Kind of an understatement.” He murmured back. “I’m glad we’ve got a chance to rest now.” A pause. “Sort of, anyway. Aside from the work.”

She understood his meaning, though. There was something strangely safe about the idea of the time they’d spend here, whether it would be a week or longer than that. This wasn’t home, where there’d be people to explain things to, or where they’d have to adapt their old life to fit around what had happened. This was a new place – unfamiliar, but easier to cope with for that unfamiliarity, in its own way.

Here, she thought, they’d be able to find their footing a little. Settle a little more into their new normal, before the vagaries of travel and normal life needed intrude again.

“Me too.” She agreed, at last, and reached a hand across to press lightly around the back of his neck. He made a soft, pleased sound, then shuffled to give her better access, face smooshed into the pillow. She kissed him on the cheek, and he peered at her with one green eye, a smile fluttering on his lips.

“…Thanks for letting me do your horns.” He mumbled back, eventually. “I liked it.”

Her heart fluttered. “I’ll repay you sometime.” She promised, and moved her hand to smooth down along his upper back, enjoying the warmth of his skin. “Tomorrow, maybe. Give you a nice backrub or something.”

“Sounds great.” He shifted closer, tucking his face against her shoulder with a sigh. She kissed him at the top of his forehead, stroking him gently from the nape of his neck to his shoulders and back. He made quiet contented noises at her, drowsier and drowsier, and steadily began to drift off.

She lingered there, holding him, trailing fingertips over his neck as he settled into sleep. It really had been a long day for him, for all that they’d spent the latter half of it indoors and resting. Now, finally, he’d be able to sleep properly, in a bed comfortable enough to ease the ache of his overworn muscles. Now, finally, without the city’s doom hanging over them, they could rest a little.

Rayla smiled into his hair, nestled against him, and closed her eyes. She wasn’t aware of falling asleep, but it took her anyway; almost between one moment and the next, she was gone.

#rayllum #rayllumvalentines #moon gardens #these snippets will probably not get posted to ao3 #i'd like to reiterate that I have no intention of posting the entire story either #but i hope you can enjoy these extracts regardless #i adore this fic tbh #it's a delight to write #which is probably how i managed to write 120k of it in one month #still proud of that #one heck of a personal record really

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thatpinkbetch · 4 years ago

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Bkdk Fic Rec

I’ve been inspired to write a fic rec! This one goes out to you @lonely-rabbit

At like, the end of 2018 and the beginning of 2019 I stayed up until 4am every night reading fics, and because I’m such a loser, I made a word doc to keep track of all of them so I wouldn’t forget them.... I tried organizing it by length but it got messy cause I’m ridiculous and cluttered, so sorry! (I’ll save my own for the end alskdjflsdkfj gotta self promote you know). This is going to get...really long, so I’ll put it under a read more! Also, just a heads up, these are all on ao3, in case that’s important to anyone!

Disclaimer: Any fics with mature or explicit content I will add a bolded warning for, even if it’s only a little bit. Normally most fics will be tagged as such, but some fics that are rated as teen I’ve found to be more suggestive than some of those rated as mature, so I will try to point it out where it feels necessary, for anyone who wishes to avoid it.

Fics under 1k:

Illuminate by TheQueen (269 words)

Summary: Bakugou watches the first firework launch and fights to keep his face neutral

Very short, plot is about a case of amnesia, also very cute and well written for that length! Not angsty at all imo

sweaty hands holding secrets - shounentwink (563 words)

Summary: Someone said Midoriya holds secrets in his hair.

It’s not true: He holds it tightly in his hands. Bakugou’s seen it.

I really like this writer! You’ll see quite a bit of them in this post alkdsjfalskdjf

Fics 1k - 10k:

Many sunflowers later - Jeka (2395 words)

Summary: Scholar Midoriya Izuku comes back to the person he left behind after his journey through the kingdom, the mighty dragon clan leader Bakugou Katsuki.

Day 1 of Twin Stars Week 2020: Fantasy AU.

First of all, fantasy au!!! Second of all, jeka!!! (I need to read more of your stuff!!) Anyways, so cute, such lovely, pretty writing, wonderful story telling, and they’re so in love TT_TT

Boom Badoom Boom - warschach (3429 words)

Summary: Izuku's working the kissing booth at the school fair, it just so happens Katsuki has been crushing on him since the first grade.

“Did you—“ Izuku parted his mouth with no sound leaving it, “Did you pay?”

“Yea.”

“For a kiss?”

This one’s a little silly but I love it still. It’s got a “kids in the 80′s over summer vacation” vibe, I think. I love warschach! I should read more of their writing... They have SUCH good bakudeku content! *It’s rated teen but there’s some suggestive content, just a heads up!

Hopeless Ramen-tic - lalazee (7155 words)

Summary: Midoriya is a cute guy who works at a ramen stall and Bakugou is thirsty as hell, but has to hide it by being an asshat. Another love story.

Ah, so good TT_TT so much sass, such good plot development and story telling for a simple concept *It’s rated as teen but again, it can be suggestive at times!

I’ll share this with you, so leave it behind - yabakuboi (3508 words)

Suammry: For the sake of the story, All Might is never in need of a successor, and, when Izuku saves Katsuki from the sludge monster, encourages young Midoriya down a different path. Thus, Katsuki and Izuku part ways after junior high, as Katsuki enters U.A. and the Midoriyas move overseas. It’s later that Katsuki realizes that there’s something missing, that he drove that something away.

Years after, Katsuki finds him in the last place he looks, in the cereal aisle at the local grocery store of their childhood neighborhood.

So soft, so sweet, so good if you just want to curl up in a comfy blanket and drink hot cocoa and feel warm and cozy and a little in love

The Secret Deku Box - yabakuboi (2241 words)

Summary: “Y’know, Bakugou never, ever talks about girls,” Kaminari says, his voice thoughtful.

“And I wonder why that is.” Ashido rolls her eyes.

“I’m just curious!” Kaminari whines. Kirishima drags the box out, unlabeled and unassuming, the lid not even fully clasped over the edges. “The guy has to— Whoa, what’s that?”

Kirishima realizes a little belatedly that this is a serious breach of privacy, and Bakugou will actually murder all of them. “Nothing!” he cries, attempting to shove it back under the bed, but Ashido snatches it away.

“Please be his porn stash!” Kaminari whispers as she whips the lid off.

Cute, funny, in canon, in character, and a must read I would say!

daisy bunches and heather branches - halcyonwhispers (5862 words)

Summary: izuku falls in love with the foul-mouthed tattoo artist next door.

Not another flower/tattoo shop au.... aldskjflaskdjfd Okay but punk!Bakugou is ALWAYS a smart move imo

the best part of me (is the worst I can give) - halcyonwhispers (5668)

Summary: Whole sentences usually make up people’s Words, but Katsuki got stuck with a name instead.

Izuku’s name.

I am such a sucker for soulmate aus when it comes to these boys TT_TT *There is some mature content, just a heads up!

Hard to Say - halcyonwhispers (8390 words)

Summary: Izuku is a Halfling, born after his faerie father spirited away his mom and then left her behind. Never quite fitting in with the humans or any of the supernatural beings in his small town, Izuku hoped that going to a diverse college in the big city will help him finally make friends.

Katsuki’s family has been powerful witches for generations, and he’s no different. Talented and a proclaimed genius to boot, he knew he shouldn’t waste his time on this dumbass (disgustingly cute) half-blood.

Or,

two idiots fall in love and don’t get that the other’s awkward cues are just a result of romantic tension.

I am ALSO a sucker for fantasy/mythical creatures au and I LOVED this one - Bakugou absolutely unable to handle how cute Midoriya is? Perfection - but it’s unfinished, and I don’t think it ever will be continued, unfortunately TT_TT

lots to unpack (throw away the whole suitcase) - shounentwink (4315 words)

Summary: “How’d you know?” Midoriya asks.

There’s a hunch to his shoulders that wasn’t there three hours ago. Freckled shoulders are kissed sunburnt and red: he looks like someone ran him over and left him like roadkill in the sunlight. Bakugou’s working with insurance today, but he could see the sparks of green lightning even from his elevated position in their shared agency. Midoriya’s holding his thumb, cracking it over and over — it looks like he’s rubbed it raw.

“Dunno,” Bakugou says. “Maybe you’re just easy to read, nerd.”

I love this one so much, it was one of the first ones I read, it’s so good, and it’s another that really affected how I view their relationship! Idk this one just hit for me

hang the moon from us (it’s a no from me) - shounentwink (1200 words)

Summary: Midoriya’s gonna get sick of Bakugou one of these days, and then the whole ruse will be over, and the balance of power will tilt beyond salvation, but that day isn’t today and it looks like Bakugou knows it.

What an asshole.

Once again, I’m a sucker for the fantasy au... But even more, the diction, the details, the imagery...it’s absolutely all stunning here. I wish I could write this pretty

In Which Bakugou Finds His One Tru Luv - Erina (5862 words) This is the first one of a series called The Misadventures of Explodo-kill Agency!

Summary: Welcome to the Explodo-kill agency! We can destroy your buildings, crash your cars, and help you solve one of the seven mysteries in life: who is Bakugou Katsuki's mysterious boyfriend?!

I’ll admit I’ve only read the first three but by god they are the funniest fics I’ve ever read in my life. I see that Erina has added more since the last time I checked it out! Tbh I was only interested in reading the purely bakudeku ones... (My favorite was the second one!! SO funny and cute!)

i still do - raeryn (9646 words)

Summary: He’s losing him to pieces, but Izuku still tries to make them count. In which a battle leaves Bakugou Katsuki with amnesia, and Izuku finds himself picking up the pieces.

So, this one makes me cry. TT_TT

One Thing Straight - winningshot (9899 words)

Summary: They totally aren't.

Hints of their relationship is found in all of their friends’ social media accounts, but majority of their fans still think that Katsuki and Izuku are in relationships with anybody but each other.

It was amusing up until it became sad.

Lmao it’s a little salty but I guess I can be too. This is a social media fic! There’s multiple ships in this one, too

A Demolition Boy & his Cryptid BF - kewltie (8472 words)

Summary: Bakugou of the Demolition Squad is famous for running one of the most popular Youtube channels on the web that regularly blow shit up and jumped off a perfectly good building for shit and giggles. He's also famous for his Cryptid BF™, never appearing on camera except for a few bodyshots and all information on him is kept locked up tighter than Fort Knox, therefore drawing all sort of attention and curiosity toward his mysterious boyfriend.

Deku from Deku Explains is a hopeless chatterbox who is known for uploading 20-30 minutes video that talked about his favorite shows and comics and have one of the most devoted following on Youtube. He also can't seem to shut up about his boyfriend Kacchan, who regularly make his presence on the channel as a disembodied voice.

They should theoretically have nothing in common except a shared platform to host their content and an army of fans with an endless curiosity and devotion to their Youtubers. Vidcon is where we lay our scene and the internet is about to get a rude wake up call.

Okay kewltie is SO GOOD and very creative! The formatting is phenomenal, it’s like you’re actually experiencing a social media melt down in real time lol

be my good luck charm - writedeku (6785 words)

Summary: See, the thing is, Midoriya Izuku had been born with a curse. It’s not a curse that’s particularly visible. He doesn’t have horns, or a tortured face, and it’s not the kind of silly curse like a friend of his had way down south in Diagnor, wherein the girl had been born without the ability to say the word duck. Midoriya Izuku is just extremely unlucky.

(Or the AU in which Izuku's the world's unluckiest travelling merchant, and Katsuki is someone who may be able to help him. For a price, that is.)

Oh I adore this one! It’s so cute and such a good narrative! Nice and warm, and Bakugou trying his damnedest to be suave, and it somehow working because Midoriya is just as flustered. *Another one rated as teen but some suggestive content.

Smells Like Victory - majjale (2377 words)

Summary: Bakugou takes two steps into the room and stops, clapping a hand over his nose. “Ugh, what stinks like Deku in here?”

"Good afternoon, Bakugou. That would be the amortentia."

I must admit, not a fan of HP, but majjale...TT_TT majjale writes these two boys so well. This one is really, really good!

Cherish Me - Justaperson1718 (2376 words)

Summary: “What?”

Izuku looked back down at his menu and flipped the page, a small smile on his face. “Nothing.”

Katsuki glared at Izuku from across the table. “If it was nothing then you wouldn’t be staring at me.”

“It’s just a little funny watching you try to look your best for our date when you always look great anyway,” Izuku explained. He wouldn’t look up from his menu while he spoke, but his words remained ingrained with confidence nevertheless. He considered what he was saying to be fact, and nothing else. “Even when you’re not trying in front of the cameras, it’s still hard to take my eyes off of you.”

This is a sequel to a fic that’ll be in the next section, because it’s longer, called Manage Me. Please read that one first before this one! (Not part of a series, but they’re the same story line)

Fascinating - Justaperson1718 (1556 words)

Summary: “I’m not staring at you,” Izuku replied, his eyes focused intently on Katsuki. He’s still wearing his pajamas, sitting on his knees in their shared bed. He was awake moments before Katsuki, and waited eagerly for the other to awake.

Katsuki glanced over his shoulder after his shirt was on and glared. “You’re fucking staring at me right now.”

Izuku shook his head, humming his disapproval quietly. “I’m watching you.”

“That’s the same damn thing,” Katsuki said while searching for a pair of pants in the dresser. “Your eyes are fixated on me like I’m your life’s fucking goal or some shit.”

“I just like watching you get dressed.” Izuku tilted his head to the side and smiled softly at Katsuki’s confused stare. “I know, it’s weird. But I like it.”

*There is a little bit of implied mature content, but overall, it’s just so sweet and intimate, and I just simply adore this one.

in a place once filled with gold - dorenamryn (9226 words)

Summary: It felt strange to remember such details, for they were things a friend should know, and as far as Katsuki was concerned, he and Deku hadn’t been friends in a very, very long time. He could admit, with reluctance, that they were on the path there, now, even though they would never make it. Katsuki would die before they could get the chance.

or: There is a garden growing in Katsuki’s lungs, and he is helpless to stop it.

“Hanahaki disease” okay, I can explain myself. Okay, I can’t. In any case, you got angst with a happy ending if that’s what you’re into!

Kaleidoscope - DPRenFTW (5141 words)

Summary: Izuku is a witch. He just needs to find his familiar. Enter a boy that is a wolf, and a wolf that is a boy - with wild red eyes and sharp smiles.

And Izuku thinks:

"Oh, it's him."

Just as beautiful and fascinating as the name implies! I seriously recommend for the beautiful writing, the gorgeous world, the mythical creatures au, and the lovely bakudeku romance!

Learning Curve - sensiblysilly (4222 words)

Summary: Deku and Katsuki’s first kiss goes rather differently than planned.

And Katsuki’s quickly learning that relationships can be unpredictable - especially when taking into account the variable that is Midoriya Izuku.

This really is just a careful handling of a teenage romance where perhaps one of them may have shit they’re still working through. It’s really sweet, and a careful study at boundaries and the building of a relationship. I actually stumbled across this while looking for another with the same name and ended up pleasantly surprised. Kacchan can has a little validation, as a treat.

4/20 is a national holiday - Ereri_Garbage (

Summary: Izuku is a drug dealer that doesn't really accept the fact he's a drug dealer, Katsuki is hot as hell as shouldn't be allowed a facebook.

Happy (Late) birthday Katsuki and happy (late) 4/20. I actually half assed an edit on this one so it took longer to post than I thought it would.

Uummmm lmao yes I have a sense of humor. ;ALDSKJFLSKDJF Okay, I say that, but this is not a crack fic, it’s a good story that I enjoy with good writing, and *it has mature, content, obviously for multiple reasons here. It’s rated as mature but there are borderline explicit moments imo. It’s a fun fic and funny, too! And, ngl, it really does remind me of college... But forget about me, the bakudeku is wonderful too of course :)

Drinking Watermelon - warschach (8906 words)

Summary: For whatever reason, maybe divine fate, Izuku turned and looked over his shoulder and waved to them.

Katsuki’s heart full on stopped right then, and his fingers forgot their duty on the rails, and his body neglected its job to keep Katsuki balanced.

Izuku’s summer sweet smile fell into concern as Katsuki went airborne and cracked his skull on the porch.

or Katsuki works as a camp counselor, and Izuku is a boy made of summer heat and sunlight.

Love it when people have Bakugou as absolutely enamored with Midoriya; it’s so good and true. Anyways this one makes me like summer camp story lines. It’s funny and also cute and great writing! *It’s got explicit content, just a heads up. Warschach stories just have this youthful 80′s vibe, I don’t know how else to explain it.

there are listed buildings - semiautomatichearts (3309)

Summary: Katsuki first sees colors bloom when he is only three years old. It is timid Izuku, hiding behind the cover of his mother's leg who looks upon him with wide eyes, and Katsuki's world explodes in shades of greens and pinks and blues, and he is so startled, he begins to cry.

His life is then on defined in color, in shades his peers can't see, by the forlorn, timid stare in Izuku's eyes that always lets off more than he is willing to tell. There is a schism driven between himself and his fated other, and Katsuki strives to be better than fate, better than what is defined for him. He is more than the written pages of a book, to be cracked open and read by the gods.

He wonders if it is possible for colors to bloom for someone who will never love you back.

Ah...soulmates :) So interesting how bakudeku fits into soulmate aus like this one when they’ve known each other as kids! And when they’ve had this complex push and pull thing going on all their lives! The writing is beautiful, and so is the story!

Promise Ring - bkdkwritingsdump (3579)

Summary: The midwest in the 1950′s is no place for boys who like kissing boys: something Izuku and Katsuki know all too well growing up there. However, the undeniable bond between the nervous science geek and the aloof delinquent will still find a way to blossom in such a desert.

Cute, sweet, makes my gay heart ache. Longing not just for the one you love, but just to feel right loving them. Very pretty story line, lovely story telling!

Fics 10k - 30k:

Fishy - warschach (19417 words)

Summary: Izuku’s convinced his hot co-worker/neighbor, Katsuki, is a mermaid-or merman- you gotta consider genders even with mythical creatures- and plans to prove it.

(or this is kinda like the show ‘Monster Quest’, except Izuku actually finds said monster, falls in love, and have sexy times.)

Another warschach! I love this one, I love how they write bakudeku, particularly as college students, their stories (at least, the ones that I’ve read) always feel so warm, like a summer’s day, but not a lazy one, one that’s playful? If that makes sense? *This one is explicit, another heads up!

Manage Me - Justaperson1718 (10756 words)

Summary: Izuku caught himself moving forward, his head tilted somewhat to the side, and his eyes shot wide open. His gaze met Katsuki’s half-lidded eyes now that he was no longer in a dreamlike state, and seeing the way Katsuki was looking at him—waiting for him—made him realize Katsuki would’ve let him do it. He might have even wanted him to do it.

“You’re both doing fabulous!” the photographer called out to them, packing his camera into his bag and getting ready to leave. “I just got word that what we have now should be good, so we’ll stop there. Thank you for your time! Lock the door on your way out after you change.”

The pair stayed frozen in place, with Izuku’s arms around Katsuki’s neck and Katsuki’s hands resting on Izuku’s waist, while the photographer and his supervisor left.

“Kacchan,” Izuku cooed once they were gone. “Did you want to…?”

Love the story, love the bakudeku! Very, very good bakudeku TT_TT very sweet *There is some mature content in here as well

point to a map (we’ve been there) - cosmicfuss (10589 words)

Summary: Serendipity / sĕr″ən-dĭp′ĭ-tē Serendipity is the occurrence of an unplanned fortunate discovery. Two men find themselves on a subway, hot coffee on one while the other is in the middle of a screaming match. After that they can't seem to stop finding each other, no matter how far they go.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; this fic owns my entire soul. I love the story, the ease of their relationship, just how lovely they are together. It’s another kind of nice, fluffy fic you’d read on a bad day where you come home and curl up in a blanket and listen to a ten hour video of thunderstorm white noise. *Again, some more mature content in here

Partners - tsukithewolf (13619 words) Another series! Two parts to this one this time

Summary: It is said that in Musutafu there is a charm that one can buy at a temple that will lead you to your destined partner. They say that if the charm works, you would be able to follow the red string of fate to the person you were meant to be with. And if the person returns your feelings, they would be able to see the string as well, proving that both were meant to be.

Three-year-old Katsuki and Izuku misunderstand what the word "partner" means and discover the charm and the rumor behind it is not only true, but more than expected.

Gets a little heavy, depression, bullying, suicidal thoughts, etc. But it must get worse before it gets better, that kind of thing. I also just adore the second part (called Bond) - maybe because it’s much fluffier, what about it?

Learning Curve - iknewaman (10304 words)

Summary: “Izuku.” Uraraka repeats as she motions at the person stood next to her. Green curls, average height, and, well. Up close, not such a bad smile. Uraraka points a thumb at Bakugou and enunciates slowly, “This is Bakugou. He can speak sign language too.”

Wait. Sign language?

The stranger— well, Izuku— looks at him with a raised brow. Their free hand lifts up as they make a slight motion of the hand.‘

Really?’

Bored out of his mind at a house party one night Bakugou is introduced to Izuku, a deaf student who offers to help teach Bakugou sign language in exchange for a favour-- or well, is prompted into asking for a favour.

Ah, I really want to explain this one a little bit? I’d never been into fanfiction ever, only really getting into it with these boys. This was the second one I read, I remember, and it caught me off guard, and it intrigued me. It really surprised me as to what fanfiction could be. Ngl I had biased perceptions of fanfics - I used to be one of those people who thought fanfiction could never be good writing - and this one slapped me in the face with it’s subtle beauty and creative story and heart melting capabilities, and very, very real relationship and growth. Anyways it’s so cute how happy Deku is to teach Kacchan sign language TT_TT Make sure to read the tags!

The Keeper and the Sun God’s Heir - SurelyHeavenWaits (12746 words)

Summary: The Titans' have stolen something important from Izuku, heir of the Sun God, and he wants it back.

This one, this one, this one, this one, this one, this one, this one, this one this one- Oh my god this one. Okay so what, I was a Percy Jackson kid, what about it? I love the mythical aus, particularly the god ones. But beyond that, the writing is so beautiful, just like the world, and the imagery. The bakudeku...absolutely stunning. The story itself? Incredible. Cannot recommend more. *There is explicit content in this, though I will say, it’s all in the last chapter, and all of the story is in the first two chapters. There’s also a second part as it’s a series and it’s short but it’s cute and sweet TT_TT

seven days - aaAAAaaahhhhHHHHH (10094 words)

Summary: There’s something about the green haired boy, an aura that just drew Katsuki in before he even knew his name.

[Sometimes your mind forgets, but your heart remembers]

Heed my warning: DON’T read this in front of other people. I bawl every time I read this one TT_TT I know I said I don’t like angst but AJLSKDFJALSKDFJ it has a hopeful ending! I mean yeah you’re gonna cry but...hope? :’) (that username really says it all tbh)

Fics 30k+

Notice me, nerd - useless_donut (40000 words)

Summary: Bakugou is in love with Midoriya. He doesn’t hide it, in fact it’s so painfully obvious that the entire class of 3-A has him figured out in a matter of months (days, in some cases). Too bad Midoriya is the most oblivious motherfucker out there, and Bakugou is too damn stubborn to actually ask him out.

Will the class of 3-A survive the sexual tension? Who will snap first? Someone put Bakugou out of his misery, please, before everyone else dies of second-hand embarrassment.

(a love story as witnessed by the class of 3-A)

Love the idea of Bakugou being brazen and brash, cause yeah, he is. So fucking funny though how that translates to him flirting. Gotta say, thought I was gonna cringe, but his “I’m gay af” outfit really ended up being A Look. Love the mutual pining, it really is strong in this one. *Okay, mature content in this one lads.

While You Were Sleeping - Belkacaramelka (71197 words)

Summary: The one where quirkless fanboy Midoriya Izuku rescues Pro Hero Todoroki Shouto, gets mistaken as his fiancé while he is in a coma, and gets caught up in the most unlikely fake engagement... until his childhood enemy and Todoroki's classmate Bakugou Katsuki tries to catch him out, and they both end up discovering a lot more about each other than they'd expected.

Quirkless AU based on the film; endgame BakuDeku. -- Katsuki didn’t know when the change had happened: how he had gone from asking why Todoroki chose Deku of all people, to wondering why it was Todoroki that Deku chose. Troublesome Deku, who cooed like an idiot at cats, tripped at a random catcall and sang badly. Who, despite everything, proved that it wasn’t the quirk that defined a person. Deku, who was too much, not his, and undeniably off limits to begin with.

Update: Epilogue added

*This one has mature content. If you can, please, for the love of god, read this fic. It’s like, tied with my favorite bkdk fic perhaps ever. It’s based on the movie of the same title, a nineties romcom with Sandra Bullock, but Belkacaramelka has so effortlessly made it into it’s own story, fit it so perfectly inside of the bnha world. I definitely stayed up until 6:30am reading this one. It’s got such good badass Midoriya, who is also sweet, and really really good reconciliation between bakudeku.

All Gifted - fitzefitcher (39129 words)

Summary: The thing about gifts is that they're meant to be given, they're meant to be shared; so Izuku will take his gifts, so freely given to him, and share them with all he holds dear.

Izuku is born without any gifts, as his kind often are, to a witch mother and salamander father, on one sweltering night in July.

This one is unfinished...and I highly doubt it will ever be. But what has been written is incredible. Once again, I’m a sucker for the magic/mythical creatures aus. But the relationship is great! The characterization is great! The found family trope that was building up is great!

under a hollow sun - umbrage (40572 words)

Summary: Midoriya is cursed with emptiness.

Misfortune leads him to a man of ancient magic and endless rage.

To stop an unfathomable evil, their mismatched halves must become whole.

Uuuggghhhh this was so good! I don’t think it’s going to be finished either :( Once again, fantasy au, more amazing writing, on point characterization, incredible pacing, makes you hungry for more story.

all the savage soul requires - majjale (58032 words)

Summary: Bakugou seems to have exhausted his patience for words and no longer acknowledges that Midoriya exists, so Midoriya crosses his legs, stares down at his hands limned in firelight, and makes a list of things he knows.

One. His name is Midoriya Izuku.

Two. He is a Godmarked, future god of life, heir to the divine throne.

Three. The gods have been fighting Death for eons, and now he's coming for recompense with everything he’s got.

This is majjale, so of course, the writing is more than beautiful; it’s absolutely breathtaking. This may be my favorite fic ever - unfortunately I don’t think it will ever be finished either TT_TT There’s the gods/fantasy au, which you know by now I love. But the characterization of our two boys is absolutely perfect, and I mean that as literally as possible. And the story being crafted between the two, the memory loss, the obvious history muddled by it all, it was so dense, and the PINING, so incredibly written, flowing so naturally. It wasn’t even close to being done, but it was wonderful, still is wonderful.

My Writing: (You can skip this if you hate shameless self promotion)

You’re too damn flicking cute (1815 words)

Summary: Bakugou is certain his shitty boyfriend is instigating kisses. Maybe it doesn't help that he keeps giving them away like it's a damn going out of business sale, but the stupid nerd is too fucking cute. Either way, like everything else, this is a competition, and he's going to win it.

Please don’t read this unless you’re going to the dentist afterwards! I’ve been told it’s so sweet it’ll give you instant cavities >_>;;;;

Bakugou Katsuki, you smooth motherfucker (10118 words)

Summary: Everyone around him knows that Bakugou Katsuki has a very special way with words. To the untrained ear he is loud and crass; to those that speak Kacchan, he is caring and inspiring. Yet there are rare moments, moments so fleeting you blink and you miss them, where Bakugou’s words pierce straight through Midoriya’s chest, and surprise everyone around him.

Goddammit, if only he would say them to Midoriya’s face.

Or, the five times Bakugou said something nice about Midoriya, and the one time he said something kind to him (but that was too long of a title).

I think most would consider this my best published fic; it’s one of those snapshot fics, “the five times where x did this, and the one time where they didn’t.” The recurring comment I get on this one is both of them being super in character, so I think that’s it’s defining characteristic! Bakugou and Midoriya have never known a life without the other, and in a perfect world, they never will.

Here, let me fix that (11247 words)

Summary: Bakugou honestly never thought he’d see Deku ever again. And now that they were together in this tiny compartment, alone for the next two and a half minutes, he had no clue what to say. He’d just apologized, right? So perhaps he could leave it at that and carry on with the original plan to never see the green-haired man that reminded him of dense forests, late night adventures, and tear-stained faces, ever again.

Ha! Who is he kidding? These bitches are soulmates.

I’ve gotten some critiques on this one, so sorry in advance if it’s not to your liking! Basically, what if Midoriya never got his quirk? Obviously, life would find a way to put them together because, as previously stated, these bitches are soulmates.

Plenty of Time (16654 words)

Summary: Bakugou found what little sleep he got restless and filled with nightmares that he forgot the second he opened his eyes. Tonight was the first time in a long time where he just had a normal dream - and it happened to be about Deku.

How fucking typical.

In other words, two dorks realize they have feelings for each other but don't know what to do about said feelings.

Ah, my first fic. Very simple, boys being boys, kinda like a slow burn? Idk how to explain this one, just boys figuring out their feelings and trying to figure out what to do about them. Been told these two are a little stupid but I think that’s valid.

We’re all time bombs waiting to explode (39223 words)

Summary: We have now entered the slipstream of time, into an alternate dimension where it neither is, nor isn’t, the 80’s. Two teenagers, burdened with the weight of adolescence in the modern world, find themselves struggling side by side, in part because of each other.

Bakugou, the most popular boy in school, has everything he could possibly want; status, power, and an unbreakable will. Having been dragged along behind him all the way to the top, Midoriya can’t help but wonder how (and why) he ended up standing beside his childhood friend-turned bully-turned friend again, weighed down by their complicated past and present. As the tension between them grows every day, and the arrival of a new, pretty face causes it to peak, it won’t be long before something - or someone - snaps.

I am...very bad at titles, and summaries apparently. This was my Heathers au, but it very quickly diverges from the original (I don’t do sad endings....) *This one has mature content, including implied sexual activity, drug use, and underage drinking, along with other heavy topics; please read the tags! Though tbh Midoriya is 17 for a couple weeks before it hits his birthday halfway through, so keep that in mind I guess? I kind of went heavy with this one, but I think the pay off was immense. This is the one with the most amount of comments stating it’s their favorite bkdk fic ever (and I cry). It’s a rough start, with a rough journey, but so is bakudeku! There’s a lot of petty drama, and then all of a sudden it’s Not That Petty and very much Far Too Real. Many have cried reading the ending, I cried writing it. My sister says it’s her favorite of mine. Now, I did kind of push this out without polishing it so much because I was losing my willpower, so if it feels lacking, that’s one hundred percent my fault.

Okay that was a lot! It took me a couple days...I hope I wasn’t too annoying with all my opinions! Please have a nice day. and enjoy some good reads, even if they aren’t the ones in this post!

#bakudeku #katsudeku #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha #bnha #bkdk #fics #my writing #god i really hope i didn't fuck up any of this #i spent a long time on it alksdjflaskjdflkasdjf #this is 39 fics without my own #and 44 including mine #i can tell i've forgotten some but #idk it's hard TT_TT #anyways it's 2:30am #if i go to bed at 4am one more time i'm gonna throw myself down a flight of stairs #i hope this is good enough as is!#most of this was written very late so I hope it doesn't sound...crazed

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rocking-space-dragon · 4 years ago

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Scorched, Episode 2 : Mob Mentality.

Heya all! Here’s the second episode of my series of stories surrounding and involving various members of the Dream SMP! Last one was pretty Angsty, so I wanted this one to be a little more optimistic! As always, if you liked it, like and reblog so more people get to read it! 2250 Words/10k Characters. Characters : Technoblade, Ranboo, Philza. A man stands, mug of warm cocoa in his hands as he looks out the window in quiet contemplation; through the glass, snow falls and adds to the already serene landscape, a blanket of white that coats the hills and valleys of the place they called home. The 'they' in question broke the serenity moments later; a towering porcine figure opening one of the heavy wooden doors of their home with a creak, shaking off the snow from their crown-adorned head and off the deep red cloak that covered their body. Beneath it shone a set of deep, purple-black armour, shining faintly from the various magical effects on it.

Once he's satisfied that the snow is mostly gone and the warmth begins to reach his bones, he groans and rolls his shoulders - taking a moment to put away a few items while calling out a casual "Hey Phil." As he passes. Philza, for his part, hums a simple "Mmm." Of affirmation and continues his watching. It's only when he's done putting a handful of items away in the chests at the back of the room that Techno finally acknowledges the absence of conversation, turning around and resting his hands on the chest behind him as he raises an eyebrow quizzically "Hey, Phil. What're you looking at?"

It takes a moment for Philza to respond, sipping from his mug before blinking like he's snapping out of a trance - attention turning towards Techno and gesturing for him to come over with his head "It's Ranboo. He's, uh...Been kinda bizarre, lately. Moving blocks around, disappearing into that basement of his, y'know, stuff like that." He takes another sip of his cocoa before glancing between the pig standing beside him and the figure who was sitting on the steps outside his shack. After a moment's pause, he smiles; "You should go talk to him."

Techno's response is immediate - confusion and reluctance written across his face as he turns his attention back to Phil "Wh-me? I dunno if you're aware Phil, but I'm kinda bad with kids AND endermen. What- what makes you think I'd be of any help to him?" The man chuckles, shrugging for a moment as he adjusts the grip he's got on the mug in his hands "I dunno, but you've certainly got a soft spot for this one. Don't think I haven't seen you walking around with that Axe he gave you."

"Phil. Phil it's purely practical - it's a good axe, Phil! I needed an axe after they took my axe! What am I supposed to do, just not use the axe?" There's no response but another quite sip as the smile on the man's face gets wider, followed by a knowing "Mmmhmm." As he continues watching.

"Phil-"

"Just go check on the kid before he freezes to death out there." He chuckles again, taking another sip and letting out a soft, smug sigh as the pigman rolls his eyes, opening the door and pushing out into the light snowfall. Heavy footsteps crunch through the snow as Technoblade heads through the snow outside, eyes rolling as the door closes behind him – though his expression shifts a moment later as he sees the half-enderman, sitting just outside of his house on the small dirt bank besides his farm. As he approaches, his view on the figure improves; he’s got his chin resting in his hands, eyes gazing out across the snowfield in front of him, seemingly so entranced that he doesn’t even notice the piglin approaching. It takes him clearing his throat for Ranboo to finally snap out of his trance and sit up, blinking a few times and looking up towards Techno “Oh, hello Techno! I didn’t see you there, is everything alright?” Techno takes a moment, rubbing at the back of his head and eventually sitting down in the snow beside Ranboo, looking out into the snow to avoid meeting his eyes – though making note of the fact that Ranboo seems to scoot up a little to give him space as he sits. “Uh…Well, Phil thought you were being…I mean, he figured you might be dealing with something, so I, in my infinite kindness, decided to come out and, uh…y’know. See if you were okay.”

That draws a chuckle from the hybrid, who takes a moment to return his gaze out to the snow as well before speaking “Uh…I mean, kinda? Like, physically, I’m fine, but…” he pauses, going quiet briefly, only to break it by continuing “I’ve…been hearing voices? Like I always heard voices, but recently I’ve been hearing a new one that…sounds kinda- well, not kinda, exactly like Dream, and it’s been telling me that I’ve been doing things I don’t remember, bad things and- and like, I black out sometimes and apparently I do things while I’m blacked out but finding out that I do those things only stresses me out more which makes me black out more and then when I wake up I don’t remember doing any of those things until the voice comes back again and then I get stressed again and- and I don’t know what to do about it or if I can even trust myself and-“ It all came out like a flood – everything that he’d been dealing with for the past fortnight, tumbling from his mouth, word after word – he was only aware that he was crying from the twinges of pain that he felt every time his tears ran down his cheeks and dripped onto the snow beneath him, eating away at the snowbank beneath him. What stops the tears from tumbling down his face is unexpected, to say the least, as he feels something being draped over his shoulders and reaching back, he finds the deep crimson of Techno’s cape, hands closing across the white trim. Before he can speak, he’s interrupted by the Piglin himself, gaze very deliberately averted “If you start crying while it’s this cold out, you’ll only get colder. This way, even if you’re crying, you can stay warm. It’s purely practicality – besides, I don’t need it anyway.” He chuckles, but even Ranboo can see the slight shiver that runs through him as a cold breeze blows past them. “I, uh- thanks…Techno. Sorry, I didn’t mean to kinda go on there, I guess I had a lot more on my mind than I thought! I should…really get out of this cold though, before-“ “I know how you feel.” “…What?” For the first time since sitting down, Techno turns to face the Hybrid sitting beside him – and for what’s probably the first time, Ranboo can see exhaustion behind Techno’s eyes. Techno, who he’s only ever seen at his pinnacle, suddenly seems…tired. The kind of deep, familiar exhaustion that comes from years of low sleep, from experience. The kind of exhaustion that can’t be faked.

“I don’t imagine you know when your voices started. I mean, you don’t remember much, so it’d be kinda weird if…yeah. I…I’ve always had voices, myself. They’ve been in my head ever since I can remember.” At that, Techno takes a moment, looking down at the ground beneath his feet, eyes focused on the snow that’s been building between his boots “At first, there weren’t many of them – they kinda just hung around, and they’d give suggestions and the like…but as I learned to survive, learned to fight, more of them showed up. They’d laugh at my failures, revel in my victories…for a time, I began to think of them as my friends – no matter what happened, or how rough things got, they’d always be there for me, always be there to keep me strong.” Techno pauses, lifting up a boot and crushing the mound underneath “I was wrong. What first seemed like a group who wanted nothing more than to support me, soon became demanding. The fights weren’t enough, the competitions, never enough. I had to be better, be stronger, be more for them – that’s when the chant really began to twist. At first, y’know, it’d started as a suggestion – ‘Technoblade never dies!’ like the voices were beginning to realise that it’d been a while since I last felt the sting of death. From there, it became this kind of…rallying cry. They’d call it out, ‘TECHNOBLADE NEVER DIES!’ and I revelled in it! I loved the chanting, I took it in stride – I became undefeatable, this warrior of legend who never fell. Competitions, I sure lost from time to time, but…on the field of battle? I was Unmatched.” Ranboo could see Techno tense up like a coiled spring, as if ready to jump into a fighting stance at any point. By now, he’s got his hands balled into fists, continuing as if Ranboo isn’t even there “But that’s when it began to twist. I still remember it, Ranboo.” The name is all the enderman gets before Techno stands up abruptly, drawing his blade from his sheath and holding it straight out, unwavering, in one swift, practiced movement. He holds his stance for a moment before beginning to walk slowly forwards, blade twirling in his hand “I was low. The stakes were high. I could hear the blood pounding in my ears…but more than that, I could hear the voices. I knew that any movement could have meant my death, but they were…there. It wasn’t a chant of support any more, Ranboo, it was a command. ‘TECHNOBLADE NEVER DIES’ they repeated, over and over and over-“ he whips the blade around, gripping the handle and pointing it towards the Half-Enderman sitting beside him, who’s hands instinctively go up to protect himself. That seems to snap the piglin out of his memories, lowering the blade and taking a seat back down beside him “Do you know what it’s like, Ranboo? To have thousands and thousands of voices telling you that you’re not allowed to die?” His eyes turn towards the blade in his hands, looking at his reflection in the polished netherite and staring down at it quietly “Sometimes…I wonder what’ll happen if I do die. I’ve done everything I can to keep the voices at bay, but…what happens when ‘Technoblade never dies’ stops being true? What will the voices say then?” The silence that washes over the two of them is palpable, a deep, intense silence that is snapped by Techno sitting up suddenly and turning to look at the Enderman once more “Oh, yeah, I was supposed to be making you feel better! Uhhh…You shouldn’t worry about that voice because…Dream is homeless and any voice that has his…voice is probably dumb and homeless as well? Because…uhhh…-“ “Techno, you’re…more than the voices in your head.” That seems to shock the Piglin. He blinks for a moment, looking up from the blade in his hands, turning to face Ranboo before he continues, shrinking back at the eye contact that Techno quickly breaks “What I mean is…You’re…you. Those voices say and do plenty, sure, but…you’re still Technoblade, right? And…I’m still Ranboo.” At that, he seems to reach some measure of understanding, turning and looking back out into the snow “And no matter what the voices say, or what they say we do, or what they make us think, we’re…still us, right?” “…Yeah. And if one of those voices happens to sound like Dream? Well you can tell it that it’s not welcome in your head – he may be homeless, but this isn’t any place to take residence!” He laughs, hearty and full, ruffling Ranboo’s hair – who smiles happily at the gesture, before they both realise what’s just happened, both quickly averting their gazes. Techno can’t help but smile though, even as he’s looking away…and meeting eyes with the shit-eating grin plastered across the face of the man watching from the windows of his house. He can feel his face heating up at the sight, standing up abruptly and clearing his throat “Well uh, I hope that helped, you’re more than your voices and everything, dream sucks, etcetera etcetera.” He sheaths the sword again, looking out across the snowfield “I uh…Hope that helped. Don’t expect me to come out here any time you hear a voice in your head though!” He smiles, turning to walk back towards the house “You’re strong enough to handle those on your own, after all. You wouldn’t be allowed to be in the presence of the GREAT TECHNOBLADE otherwise!” He laughs, drawing his blade before another chill blows through and he shivers from head to toe, quickly dashing back inside. That night, the Hybrid sleeps beneath a deep, crimson coat, and for once, his head is quiet – that familiar, ever-present voice warded, at least for now. When he awakens, there’s a mug of warm, gently steaming cocoa and a pair of green and white earmuffs sitting beside his bed, along with a note.

“I may not be as familiar with the voices as the two of you, but I can guarantee that it’ll be a lot harder to listen to them if you’ve got something warm to cover your ears. Just remember, if you ever need to listen to the voices that actually matter, the ones who actually do want what’s best for you, we’ll be here.

-P.”

That morning, a certain Hybrid sits on his makeshift porch, cloak covering his shoulders and back, with a pair of earmuffs covering his head and a mug of warm cocoa in his hands, and thinks, just for a moment, that everything might actually turn out okay.

#mcyt #Dream SMP #Ranboo #Technoblade #Philza Minecraft #Dream SMP fic #Comfort #Scorched Episode 2 #Scorched Series

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iridescentjin · 5 years ago

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Powdered Moonstone and Pearl Dust

Summary: Things are not always as they seem at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Genre: Smut, some fluff, some romance

Warnings: Oral sex (m. and f. receiving), creampie, cumplay, threesome, dirty talk, dom!Taehyung, dom switch!reader, sub switch!Jungkook, mirror sex, ice play, unprotected sex, Jungkook has a weird spell to clean up cum?

A/N: This large boi is half unedited. Sorry. I just couldn’t read it anymore. Thanks to my friend Katie for beta-ing the first 10K that I wrote. I don’t know if she wants to be tagged, so I won’t tag her. I hope that the requester enjoys this. I hope you all enjoy this. My work is protected under copyright law, so please don’t steal it.

Word Count: 18K+

The only sound you hear at your table hidden away in a back corner of the library is the scratch of your quill on parchment. You love that sound. It makes you feel accomplished and proud. Even if you were just writing a list of things to do, you would still love the sound. You know that you could enchant the quill to do the writing for you, but there is something so satisfying about scribbling out your own thoughts into writing. You hold the quill in your hand and continue pouring your thoughts out on the page in flowing, looping letters.

At your table next to the Restricted Section, hidden among the stacks, you finish the last of your Defense Against the Dark Arts homework. Even though you are only a week into the school year, your professor has assigned reading and an essay. You can’t say you mind, as DADA has always been your best subject. Now that you’re in your 7th year and in all of your NEWT classes, you are working toward your future career instead of just grades. The rest of your Slytherin classmates didn’t see loving DADA as an acceptable option, which is why you chose to hide away in the library to enthusiastically finish your homework.

If you were completely honest, which you only ever were with one person, you had wanted to be an Auror with the Ministry of Magic since you were a little girl. You could never, ever show that side of yourself to the rest of the Slytherins, or you’d be marked as a blood traitor. There was still animosity left over from the Second Wizarding War, and you didn’t want to cross any of your housemates whose parents were still Death Eaters.

You are so engrossed in your parchment that you don’t hear the man who sneaks up behind you. When you feel a hand on your back, you jump, making a thick, black ink mark across your paper. You turn around ready to smack the person who disturbed your peace and marred your assignment. Instead of being able to hit the person who did the transgression, you are met with two hands on either side of your face, and the offender captures your lips in a tender kiss. Even though you didn’t see him, there is no doubt in your mind that the lips pressed against yours belong to none other than Jeon Jungkook.

When your boyfriend pulls away, you slap him on the arm. “Look what you did to my paper!” you exclaim.

“Don’t act like you can’t do one swish of your wand and make that disappear,” he retorts, giggling and stroking the back of your hand with his thumb.

He was right, but you didn’t like to admit it.

“Still you can’t just go sneaking up on people and kissing them. I could have hit you with Petrificus Totalus, and then where would we be? Huh?”

He continues to giggle. “Well, I’m already stiff enough, if you know what I mean,” he winks at you, “plus, you weren’t near quick enough for that to even be a possibility.”

You snatch your wand off the table, turn to stand in front of him, and hold it against his throat, trying to look intimidating. He continues giggling. “You are incorrigible,” you scold as you roll your eyes.

You turn back to the table, passing your wand over the parchment, and mutter “Scourgify.” The ink from your flinch begins to lift off the paper and sink back into the inkwell, ready to be used again.

“You know that you’re the only person doing homework, right? I bet that isn’t even due for weeks,” Jungkook taunts as he looks down at your paper.

“Well, I like to be ahead. You know that,” you reply. “Plus, now that I’m in the NEWT class without you, I don’t have to worry about making sure you do your homework. I’m still adjusting to how much time I need. It will probably take me a third of the time now that I don’t have to convince you to do it without cheating.”

“If you would have just let me copy you, it would have saved you a lot of time,” he states, putting his hand on his hip. “But really, I’m proud of you for following your dreams, babe. I really am.” He swoops down and places his mouth against yours. Against your lips he mutters, “I know it isn’t easy with Slytherins being the way they are. Even since You-Know-Who got defeated, they still think that we all have to be evil.”

“I mean...the way you look in those pants is pretty evil,” you offer, smirk across your lips. You look him up and down, and he steps back to give you a full view. He had filled out a lot in the last year and even more over the summer, becoming a man. He’s wearing the same clothes he always wore, but they fit snugger than they used to. His tight black pants hug his thick thighs, his white button up is unbuttoned at his throat, his tie hangs loosely from his neck, and his gray sweater sits taut across his broad shoulders and firm chest. You feel an ache between your thighs as you stare at him.

“Okay, I think you’ve checked me out enough for today,” he goads. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. You nestle into his chest and breathe in his scent. For as long as you can remember, Jungkook is the one who has comforted you and taken care of you. He is the only person who you ever felt accepted you as you are, and he didn’t mind that you struggled a little bit to express your emotions. He had helped you learn to show your love for him. He gives you a squeeze and lets you go.

“All right,” he remarks, “I have practice, so I’ll let you get back to your homework that isn’t even due yet, nerd.”

He places one more kiss on your lips then begins to walk away. You watch him, and he stops halfway down the row. He smiles and says, “I love you, y/n.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, picking up your quill.

“I’m not leaving until you say it back,” he chides.

“I love you too,” you mumble back, and he bounces off and turns down the main aisle, disappearing from sight.

You turn your attention back to your paper, but, before you can even start working again, you hear, “Wow, that was pretty gross.”

You are startled by the voice and find yourself wondering why, all of a sudden, everyone feels the need to come to your spot in the library. You have only ever been bugged here by Jungkook and even that was rare because he knows this is your spot to really focus.

You turn your head to where the voice came from, and standing in the stacks is a tall man with black hair that falls in his eyes, Gryffindor tie hanging loosely around his neck. His arms are crossed, and he is leaning casually against the bookcase.

“What do you want, Taehyung?” you ask, slightly exasperated.

“I was just coming to check out the restricted section, but then I had to witness that little love fest. I must admit...I’m a little jealous, but mostly I’m disgusted,” he offers with an ornery grin on his face.

“Well, the restricted section is right there,” you gesture toward the locked area, “have fun trying to get in. I’m going back to my common room now.”

“Oh come on, y/n. When are you going to banter with me? You can’t avoid it forever.” He is still grinning that same grin while watching you pack up your bag.

“I believe in my ability to avoid it forever, so I will. Goodnight, Taehyung.”

You sling your bag over your shoulder and trudge off, away from him and the former solitude of your favorite spot.

*******

A few weeks later, when the semester is in full swing, you slink down the hallway, trying to avoid eye contact with any of the passing students and slip into the Defense Against the Dark Arts Room. You were early to class because you liked to avoid the rush of students in the hall and pick your seat carefully. You lift your eyes from the floor, and you see that your professor, Bill Weasley, is standing at the front of the room, arranging the items on the desk and fussing with books.

He looks up when he hears the door shut and flashes a smile at you. The shock of hair on top of his head is wild and curly, streaked with silver amongst the red-orange. He’s used to you coming early to class, so he doesn’t seem surprised and keeps on fiddling with things at the front of the room. You slide into your preferred seat in the second row all the way at the end. You pull out your book, quill, ink, and wand and arrange them on the table in front of you. Opening your book to the reading from the night before, you skim through the pages.

“You know,” Bill says, seemingly to himself, “you could give any working Auror a run for their money with your use of Impedimenta, even Potter.”

You feel your face heat, and you know that you’ve turned a deep scarlet. “Thank you so much, Professor Weasley,” you mumble, “but there’s no way that’s true. I mean...he’s Harry Potter. I’m just some stupid wannabe”

He chuckles, shaking his head, “I’ve known Harry for a long time. He was a stupid wannabe once too. Probably more than you. You’re not so unlike him, you know?”

You smile up at him, but, before you can respond, the door opens, and students start to fill in the room. You are grateful that you have Professor Weasley because, even though he can be detached at times, he is still one of the only supportive adults that you have in your life, since your parents died during the Second Wizarding War.

You flinch when someone plops down in the seat next to you. People usually leave you alone because you are the only Slytherin in Year 7 Defense Against the Dark Arts, but, today, someone has chosen to invade your space. When you look up from your book, you see it’s Kim Taehyung, smiling in all his Gryffindor glory.

From what you know of Taehyung from the seven years you’ve spent at school together, you know that he is cocky and weird and aggressively friendly.

“Good morning!” he exclaims a little too loudly for how close he is to you.

You give him a confused look and try to convey your distaste for the situation through your facial expression.

He just smiles back at you and starts to unpack his bag.

“Taehyung, there are like 20 other perfectly good seats in this room,” you snap.

“Yes, I know, but I want this seat,” he says with a spark in his eyes that you can’t quite name. “Besides, I have made it my goal to befriend you this year.”

You sigh a heavy sigh and turn your attention back to your book until Professor Weasley starts lecturing. You find it hard to focus though because, next to you, Taehyung is making icicles and snowflakes with his wand. They hover just above the palm of his hand, spinning slowly, then he flicks his wand and they disappear. You can’t help but be mesmerized by the intricacy of each of the snowflakes, dainty and precise. Each time you catch yourself staring at his palm, you snap your eyes back up to the front of the room and try to focus on the ginger man.

“Just give in,” Taehyung whispers to you halfway through class.

“Excuse me,” you retort in a loud whisper that draws the attention of the students in front of you.

“You want to look, so just look.”

“No. Don’t talk to me during a lecture,” you say with finality, gripping your quill tighter. You force your eyes to stay trained on Professor Weasley for the time remaining while scribbling little notes on your parchment.

At the end of the period, you pack away your things quickly, making a point not to look at Taehyung, and you move out of the classroom as quickly as possible.

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

When you skulk into the common room a few hours later, you are met with a crowd of Slytherins of all ages. At the center of all the commotion is, of course, Jungkook. He has a big smile across his face, and he is chatting spiritedly with a 4th year named Camilla Astaroth. She is the Keeper on the Quidditch team, and, even though Jungkook denies it, she is clearly smitten with him. You make your way past the crowd, intending on simply talking with Jungkook later or even tomorrow.

As you pass, you hear a 6th year exclaim, “we’re going to beat Gryffindor this year for sure! Jungkook is unstoppable!”

You can’t help but smile about how talented your boyfriend is. He rarely tries something that he isn’t immediately the best at, and he has a knack for all things athletic. He tried muggle sports once with some of the 7th year Hufflepuffs when he was a 5th year, and he dominated them in basketball so much that they made him sit out.

As you reach the base of the stairs, you hear Jungkook shout your name. You turn around, and his huge grin is directed at you. The girl standing next to him does not seem pleased that you’ve taken his attention away from her.

He waves you over, and you shuffle awkwardly through the crowd. When you get to his side, he drapes his arm over your shoulders, and you sink into his side.

“What’s going on?” you ask quietly to him.

“We scrimmaged Hufflepuff today, remember?” You had completely forgotten, and you felt guilt immediately build in your chest. You had been so preoccupied with Taehyung and studying that it had slipped your mind. You mutter an apology to him while looking away.

“Hey, no. It’s okay. We won though! We completely destroyed them actually. 300 to 0. They never even stood a chance,” he declares, grinning widely.

“Jungkook was so amazing. The other team didn’t have any hope of keeping up with him,” Camilla pipes up. She’s looking at him like he hung the moon, and, in her defense, he does look super hot with his hair freshly washed and mussed a little with his shirt clinging to his frame. Camilla reaches out and runs her fingers along Jungkook’s forearm, staring directly into his face as she does it.

As a knee jerk reaction, you want to punch her, lunge at her, tackle her, and pull her hair, but you refrain. Jungkook pulls his arm away tactfully and slides it around your waist, pulling you closer. He is subtly telling her to fuck off while also bringing you in closer, and you are loving it.

You lean up to his ear and whisper, “I want to get out of here.”

He presses a kiss to your temple. “Go to my room. I’ll meet you there in five minutes.”

You say goodbye to Camilla who gives you a half-hearted wave, and you head off up the stairs. You drop your stuff in the girls dorm then make your way to Jungkook’s room. His roommates are clearly out, either with the crowd in the common room or off causing trouble. You use the opportunity to pull out a large brown t-shirt from Jungkook’s chest of drawers. You undo the knot in your tie and unbutton the top two buttons of your white oxford shirt. You wrap your fingers under the hem of your shirt and sweater and pull it over your head. You fold each article neatly and set them on top of the chest. You slide your skirt down your hips and place it on top of the pile. Deciding to take off your bra as well, you unclasp it and toss it more haphazardly than the other items. Jungkook’s shirt slides easily over your head and the cotton caresses your skin. The shirt smells like him, and you breathe it in deeply.

You plop down on his bed, smelling his pillows as well. You two were still making time for each other, but, with NEWT level classes and Quidditch practices, it was getting harder and harder to find time to just be together without doing homework or planning plays.

The heavy wooden door creaks open, and your eyes flit to the door. Jungkook shuts the door behind him and latches the bolt so no one can get in. His roommates have seen you in his bed in the mornings before, but, since they aren’t here, the two of you have free reign to do whatever you want.

He runs his hand through his hair as he makes his way over to you. Sliding into the bed next to you, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you close to him. You tilt your head up to steal a kiss against his lips. He hums in approval.

“You know...I’m not tired at all. I’m too hyped up from the scrimmage.” He places a kiss on the corner of your mouth. He follows that by kissing along your jaw and down your throat.

“Oh, is that so?” You kiss the top of his head as he sinks further down your neck. “I guess I could think of a few things to tire you out. That is if you ask nicely.”

Jungkook is biting down on the tender skin of your neck, down the slope of it to your shoulder. “Please.” He states it more than asks, but you are satisfied.

You pull him up to your face, and you press your mouth to his. Hungry and frantic. You take his bottom lip between your teeth and pull it out slightly before letting it go.

He runs his hand up your side. “I love seeing you in my shirt and nothing else.”

“I love being in your shirt, but I think I’d love being in nothing more right now.”

“I can arrange that.” He smirks and wraps his fingers around the bottom of the shirt. He pulls it over your head and throws it carelessly aside.

He takes a moment to just stare at your bare body in front of him, only your thin lace panties covering you. He passes his hands over your breasts, massaging them before leaning in to kiss your mouth again.

“Your turn.” You pull at the hem of his shirt. He stands up to take off all of his clothes. Every time you see his body, you feel taken aback. His waist is narrow, but his muscles are prominent in his stomach, arms, and thighs. The outline of his dick is visible through his underwear, and he is truly statuesque standing in front of you for a moment in just his boxer briefs.

“Those too,” you mutter.

“If I take these off, are you going to get on your knees for me tonight?” He puts his hand on his hip. You love when Jungkook takes control. You often are dominant, making him prove he’s a good boy for you, and you love to see him beg you. But sometimes it is thrilling to see him command you around. Often Quidditch wins bring out the dom in Jungkook.

“Yes, I’ll get on my knees for you, JK. I’d do anything for you. You know that.”

He blushes a little and runs his hand through his hair again. You climb off of the bed and kneel in front of him. When he pulls down his underwear, you see that his cock is already hard. He strokes it while looking down at you.

“Are you going to suck my cock like a good girl?” he asks, never breaking eye contact.

You nod and wrap your hand around his shaft. He removes his own hand, and you begin the same rhythm, pumping. You lick from his balls to the head of his dick on the underside then swirl your tongue around the head. You wrap your lips around it and slowly take the whole thing into your mouth. You slide your lips up and down the shaft of his cock, and you feel his dick twitch in your mouth. You moan around him, feeling the heat pooling in your underwear.

“You like that don’t you?” He’s breathing heavily, but his words are still steady.

He thrusts his hips slightly, causing his dick to hit the back of your throat. You gag around him, and he moans a deep, heady moan. “Good girl,” he whispers. You loosen your throat and take him in deep again. You pull back and run your tongue over the slit on the head of his dick. Repeating this over and over, you begin to feel spit running down your chin and taste the saltiness of Jungkook’s precum.

“Y/n, you have to stop. It’s been too long. I can’t last, wanna fuck you.” He wraps his fingers around your chin and pulls your head gently away from his length. You bring your hand up and pump two more times around his hard member before you stand to meet him. You kiss him hard and almost immediately sneak your tongue into his mouth, hoping he can taste himself on you.

He pulls you against his body and lets his hands explore your skin. You can feel his cock pressing against you, and you are needy for it. You moan into his mouth and press your skin against his. His chest is smooth and supple, and your nipples grow harder at the contact. You love the way that his skin feels against yours, and you are dripping in your underwear just from the sensation.

“Baby, do you want me?” Jungkook says into your neck, his breath causing the small hairs on the back of your neck to stand up.

“Yes, I want you so bad.” You tangle your fingers into his hair and tug gently while rubbing your thighs together.

“Then beg.” He pushes your legs apart with his muscular thigh, but, instead of slotting it against your clothed core, he keeps it just far enough away that you can’t get any relief. Jungkook rarely asks you to beg, and you do it even more rarely. You run through the scenario in your head of what will happen if you refuse to beg. He’s already commanded you to get on your knees, so you know he’s feeling particularly demanding tonight. You can feel how wet your underwear are, sticking against your sensitive skin.

You are weighing your options when Jungkook repeats, “Beg for it, or I’m not letting you get any relief. I’ll tease you all night if I have to.” He takes your nipple into his mouth and sucks, causing your hips to buck into him. He lets it fall from his mouth and moves to the other one, biting gently.

You sigh deeply. “Jungkook, please fuck me.” You can hear the attitude in your voice.

“Not like that, baby. I want you to mean it.”

He slides his hand between the two of you and lines his cock up with your clothed folds. He pushes the head of his cock against your clit, and you moan deeply. Fuck fuck. Am I really going to beg for it? The sensation has you desperate for him to be against your bare skin. You roll your eyes to yourself, then you drop back to your knees. The sudden movement seems to surprise Jungkook, but he also groans and takes his cock in hand as you do it.

“Jungkook, I need you more than I’ve never needed anything. I need you more than water. Please fuck me.”

He whispers an incoherent stream of curse words then asks, “baby, do you wanna ride me?”

You can see the excitement in his eyes, so you nod your head as you look up at him. He pulls you up off the floor and strides to the bed. He turns back to you and, in one smooth motion, drops your panties to the floor, then climbs onto the bed. He lies on his back, and you climb on top of him.

You hover over him for a moment, watching the impatience grow in his expression. He puts his hands on your hips and shifts his hips up. The head of his dick presses against your entrance then slides up your folds to your clit, slick with your own arousal. He does it once more before you acquiesce.

You wrap your hand around the base of his cock and line him up with your entrance. You sink down on to him slowly. Once you slide all the way down, you take a moment to adjust to the size of his cock. You think to yourself that it’s not fair that Jungkook is good at everything and also has a big dick. Once you’ve adjusted to him, you roll your hips, his pubic bone creating friction on your clit. You continue your motions, and Jungkook digs his thumbs into your hips. You can see on his face he’s trying to keep his hips still.

“I want you to cum before I do, baby. Wanna make you cum.” His eyes are wide, pupils huge. His hair is pushed off his forehead, and his chest is moving quickly with his heavy breathing. He shoves his hand between your bodies, and his thumb finds your clit. The pressure and motion from his thumb is unforgiving, and you start to lose the rhythm on his cock. Jungkook takes over the motions, and he is fucking you slowly but hard from underneath. You can feel his cock against the sensitive walls of your pussy, and as he continues stroking your clit, you feel yourself clenching, stomach tightening.

You mean to give him a warning, but you close your eyes, clench around him, and your body fills with warmth. It seeps into your brain, and everything disappears for a moment. You feel like your belly and chest are full of warm liquid as your muscles contract. You moan his name loudly as you cum, and, as you’re coming back down, he whispers, “say my name again. I’m gonna cum.”

In a breathy voice, right next to his ear, you moan out, “Jungkook, you fuck me so good.”

Then he’s coming, hips thrashing hard underneath you, fingers white from pressing against your skin so hard. You lean against his chest as you feel shot after shot of his cum fill you, and his dick twitches inside of you.

Soon the motion of his hips stops, and the two of you lie there, his dick softening inside you, for a long time. You start to drift off against his shoulder, but he shakes you gently.

“Hey, I know you want to sleep, but we should probably clean up and unlock the door.”

You groan and lift yourself off of him, wincing at the feeling of his dick and some of his cum sliding out of you. Jungkook leans over to the bedside table, grabs his wand, and positions himself between your legs.

“You know you could just lick it off,” you suggest to him.

“As much as I would love to do that, it’s still not going to get it all.” He dips his head down and licks from your entrance to your clit and then shows you his tongue with the white substance on it. “See, this won’t do.”

He waves his wand over your pussy, and you think that you’ll never get used to the cooling, tingling sensation of the spell that Jungkook learned to clean up after sex. He’s learned it so well that he doesn’t even have to do the incantation anymore. You suspect that he perfected it alone long before the two of you started having sex two years ago.

Once he has cleaned you and himself, he leans down and picks up his shirt that you were wearing. He opens his chest of drawers and pulls out two pairs of underwear, one yours and one his. He throws your underwear over to you.

“I’m sorry...you’re keeping my underwear in here?”

“You’re the one who left it in here,” he scoffs. “Plus...I like to hold them when you aren’t around.”

You giggle, wildly amused at the idea of your boyfriend cuddling your underwear to go to sleep. “Wait...do you masturbate with them?” you ask with a serious expression. You can’t believe you’re getting turned on thinking about it.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. My roommates are probably waiting to get in.” He pulls the underwear up to his hips, walks to the door, and flips the latch that was keeping it closed. “You better put those on. They’re gonna be here soon.”

You reluctantly pull the underwear up, the shirt over your head and then snuggle under his covers. He crawls into bed next to you and pulls you against him. He presses a gentle kiss against your neck and your shoulder.

“Thank you for doing that, baby. I love you so much. You have been so special to me, even since we were 8 years old.”

“I love you too, Jungkook. You are special to me. No one will ever be special like you are.” You turn and kiss his mouth. He mutters, “Nox,” and the lights in the room go out. You drift off to sleep fairly quickly with Jungkook’s frame draped around yours.

***********

Jungkook is walking alone through the courtyard when thwack something cold and solid hits him the back of the head. He stands dumbfounded for a moment, unsure if he is having a stroke or what was happening. He brings his hand up to his neck and feels the cold, wet substance. He hears giggling behind him, so he turns to try to find the source of the laughter and, probably, the snowball. There, laughing to himself, stands Kim Taehyung, hand on his knee, eyes narrowed, mouth agape. No one else seems to have seen the exchange.

Jungkook has had enough. Taehyung has been bothering him for months: putting ice in his backpack, putting snowballs in his chair, making his hot soup cold. It really was a complete nuisance, not to mention confusing, and Jungkook was fed up.

He unsheathes his wand from his front pocket and turns quickly, robes billowing behind him. Feet slapping hard on the stone and earth, he marches over to Kim Taehyung, who is still giggling gleefully.

Jungkook grabs Taehyung by the shirt and shoves him back against the wall, placing his wand against his throat. Taehyung’s giggles die down a little bit, but the amusement remains in his eyes. He straightens himself out a bit and stares back into Jungkook’s eyes. Something about the joy in his eyes causes Jungkook to soften the slightest bit, and, when he realizes, he feels confused and annoyed by this.

“Why won’t you leave me alone?!” Jungkook roars. “What did I ever do to you?!”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“Then why are you bothering me?” Jungkook almost pleads back.

Taehyung drops his eyes. “Maybe I want you to do something to me.”

He raises his eyebrows suggestively at Jungkook, whose mouth falls open. While Jungkook stands flabbergasted, Taehyung wiggles out of his slackened grip, reaches out and straightens the younger man’s robes, and leans into his ear.

“I am interested in you, baby,” he drags out the last word, his deep voice seductive and suggestive.

And he floats away, across the courtyard and into the Great Hall. Jungkook looks around, and it appears no one heard what Taehyung just said. For a moment, he has the overwhelming urge to do anything for Taehyung, anything at all to get his affection. To have his hands against his skin. To have his mouth on his own. He shakes his head when he realizes the thoughts he’s having.

Jungkook clears his throat and adjusts his pants that are now slightly tighter. He collects himself and walks across the courtyard with the same confidence he typically carries himself.

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

Many nights, because you’ve struggled with sleep as long as you can remember, you sneak around the castle. You had been doing it long enough that you knew which portraits to avoid and which ones wouldn’t rat you out. You’d actually made friends with some of the paintings on the third floor across from the Room of Requirement.

You often find yourself in the Room of Requirement, practicing spells, studying, or just spending time alone several days each week. There are some days where it won’t open, and, though you’ve tried to do research, you haven’t ever found an answer as to why you can’t get in sometimes.

One night, you are wandering listlessly through a corridor on the second floor, where you know the paintings won’t bother you. You are examining one of the paintings because where there is usually one man who sleeps at night, there are now four men have a lively debate about codpieces. You are smiling to yourself when you hit something solid. At first you think you’ve walked into a wall, even though you know your way around without looking, but then you hear a voice say, “are you never aware of your surroundings?”

“Taehyung?” You hold out your wand and utter, “Lumos.” The light spills across the face in front of you, as he pinches his eyes shut and brings his hand up to cover his face.

“Oh shit, do you have to do that?”

“Nox. Sorry. What are you doing here? Just sneaking around in the dark trying to scare people?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

It’s hard to see him now with the light out, little spots twinkling in your eyes from the sudden light of your wand.

“I asked you first.”

“If you must know, I don’t sleep well, so I wander around the castle at night. What are you doing?”

You furrow your brow, though you doubt he can see it in the dark. “The exact same thing actually…”

“Oh okay. Well, if it’s all the same to you, we could wander together?” Tae proposes.

You know he can’t see you, but you still want the effect. So you roll your eyes at him. “It’s not all the same to me. Goodnight Taehyung.” You stalk away from him, trying to put as much distance between him and yourself as possible.

A few nights later, you are on the seventh floor, leisurely strolling toward the Room of Requirement with your book bag slung over your shoulder. When you see the edge of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, you feel a lightness in your chest that is immediately overshadowed by dread. You see a tall figure on the other end of the hall, and you groan at the sight of him.

“Seriously, Taehyung, can I do anything without you showing up?” you sigh in exasperation.

“Or is it you who’s following me because you’re actually secretly in love with me!?” he gasps then giggles.

“Seriously, Taehyung, this is my time to do work, and I don’t want you here for it. Get lost.”

“First, you can just call me Tae. We’re friends. Second, I come here several times a week. What gives you the right to say it’s yours?” he now looks serious and concerned.

So that’s the reason I can’t get in sometimes you think to yourself.

“We’re not friends, and I’m not going anywhere.” You fold your arms.

“Me neither. So I guess we have to share the space.” He folds his arms too and cocks an eyebrow at you.

You sigh and then move toward the entrance. “Fine.”

The door appears, and you pull it open, not holding it open for him. In the Room, where there is usually one desk with a lamp and several bookshelves, there are now two desks next to each other. The walls are still lined with books, but the selection seems to be slightly different.

You each settle into your own desk and work on your own. You are surprised by how quiet and diligent Taehyung is when he’s working on his own. The two of you work for several hours in silence. You start to feel your eyes closing and your head nodding, so you decide it’s time to go climb into Jungkook’s bed if his roommates left the door open. You start to shuffle your papers on the desk. Taehyung startles at the sound and blinks several times in your direction.

“Are you leaving? I think I was sleeping with my eyes open”

“Yeah, I got enough work done, so I’m going to get some sleep. You should too or whatever.”

He nods and starts packing up his things. You don’t deliberately slow your movements, but you do slow down. You and Taehyung leave at the same time. After you walk out the door, you make eye contact without saying anything.

“Well...same time tomorrow?” Taehyung asks.

“We’ll see,” you utter, and the two of you take off toward your respective common rooms.

The next night and several after that, you meet Taehyung in the corridor, entering the Room of Requirement together. You work silently for a few hours, then you leave together, parting ways in the spot you met.

A few weeks into your arrangement, Taehyung is sitting at his desk muttering to himself. It is distracting you, so you look over at him and sigh. He is waving his wand and, when nothing happens, huffing to himself.

“Oh my god, Taehyung. What is the matter with you?” you finally blurt out.

“I’m sorry. I was probably being loud, huh? I just can’t nail any of these stupid defensive spells. Counterspells? Sure. I got that down. Defensive spells? I couldn’t do one to save my life...and some day I might need to do one TO SAVE MY LIFE.” He is half-yelling and breathing heavily, and his eyes look like he’s about to cry.

“Okay...well, could you like...meltdown more quietly? Or somewhere else?” You know you’re being cold, but you’ve made a point to keep distance between yourself and most other people.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I’ll stop.”

He loudly flips the pages in his book. He keeps sighing to himself and groaning. Even though he’s not talking, he’s being just as loud as he was before.

“All right, fine. If you shut up, I will help you with defensive spells. Just please stop sighing.” You stand up from your chair and walk towards him, wand in hand. “Get up.”

He stands and follows you into the center of the room. You hold out your arm and show him the bend in your elbow, the looseness of your wrist. You show him your stance.

“Okay now clear your head. All you want to think about is stopping any impending danger. Anything that can harm you will be stopped. Good. Okay, one deep breath in…”

You have yourself in position, and you cry, “Impedimenta!”

Light shoots from the tip of your wand and shifts into a hazy cloud in front of you. It slowly dissipates into the air. You love the way that the jinx looks on its own, but it’s even more exciting with something is coming at you.

You look at the man next to you, “all right, Taehyung, your turn.”

“First, I told you, just call me Tae. Second, I don’t think I can do that.”

You scoff at him and walk to the other side of the room. You pull about ten books off of the shelf. You turn on the spot and hurl one of the books right at Tae’s head. You laugh as he dodges and stares at you in disbelief.

“What the fuck, y/n?!”

“Now, you better figure out how to use it, or I’m going to hit you in your pretty little face with a book.”

He gets himself into position, and you whip a particularly thick book at him. He steps out of the way and repositions himself.

“In a life or death situation, you don’t have time like that Taehyung. Do it. You got this.”

You cock your arm to throw another book, and, as it slips from your fingers, you hear Tae exclaim “Impedimenta!”

Light shoots from his wand in an unsteady stream, and the fog is much thicker than yours. However, the book hits the fog, hangs in midair for a moment, and thuds on the floor.

When the fog clears, you see Tae beaming on the other side. He runs to you and throws his arms around you, picking you up and spinning you around.

“All right, buddy. It’s just a jinx. That’s enough,” you grumble.

He apologizes and sets you back on the floor, clearing his throat and straightening himself out.

“I’ve been trying to get that for years, and I’ve just never been able to make it work before! I’m so happy that you’re here helping me! I’ll help you with anything you need help with too. It’s only fair.”

“Thanks, Taehyung. I do actually need help with counterspells but not tonight.”

You walk over to the desk and start to pack up your things. Taehyung follows your lead. When you walk out the door, you make the same eye contact that you make every night before you head your separate directions. This time, Tae, once again, flings his arms around you and mutters “Thanks” before he bounds off toward the Gryffindor tower.

Several weeks pass in which you have been tolerating Tae as your partner in DADA because he’s actually very skilled at counterspells. He has helped you perfect Finite after you had struggled with it for 3 years.

Professor Weasley seems to be thrilled by the progress that you’ve made. One day, he asks you to stay after class. Taehyung hesitates in the doorway, and you nod to him to let him know it’s okay to leave you here alone.

“I don’t know what you’re doing, y/n, but it’s absolutely working. You have never been more focused or accurate in the time I’ve known you. Your mental incantations are nearly flawless. Whatever...or whoever...is helping you is working.”

The way he paused on “whoever” leads you to believe he knows exactly why you’ve improved.

While Taehyung has helped you with counterspells, you have helped him with other defensive spells. The two of you have practiced together in the empty room after class is over and at night in the Room of Requirement, and you feel like you have grown as a witch because of it. That does not mean you like him though. You tolerate him. You tell yourself that over and over. You don’t like him.

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

Tae climbs the spiral staircase to the astronomy tower, taking the steps two at a time. He has kind of started to dread Astronomy because it means that he doesn’t get to spend the time with you. He’s been smitten with you since Fourth Year, and he thought that you had to know it by now. He knows that you’re dating Jungkook, but he’d been pining after Jungkook since they were eleven anyway.

As he ascends into the astronomy tower, he sees that a few students who are usually there early are not there tonight. He breathes a sigh of relief. Being in Astronomy with Slytherin has proven to be challenging for the outspoken Gryffindor. He luckily has assigned himself the telescope next to Jungkook, and they have been talking more and more since the incident in the courtyard.

Taehyung had never really completely trusted men, but something about the way Jungkook talked to him made he feel like he wasn’t just looking for one thing. When Jungkook enters the room, Tae feels butterflies in his stomach. He wants to grab him and kiss him, but he knows that would destroy all the groundwork that he’s been laying for months. Instead, he just smiles and waves Jungkook over. Jungkook smiles back and makes his way to the corner where their telescopes stand.

“I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all week,” Taehyung laughs out then winks at Jungkook.

Jungkook shifts awkwardly, says, “yeah,” and forces a laugh.

Professor Sinistra enters the room and the side conversations die down. She explains that tonight, students are going to be identifying celestial bodies and mapping them. Taehyung feels elated when he hears her say that all students will be working with a partner. He knows there’s a 50% chance that Jungkook will turn him down, but they actually work pretty well together.

Jungkook turns to Taehyung and says, “hey, you’re pretty good at this stuff. Be my partner.”

He isn’t asking, and Taehyung simply nods in response. They scoot their chairs closer together and unroll the parchment on which they need to be charting constellations.

About an hour later, the two are laughing, drawing on their parchment, and taking turns looking into the telescope. Taehyung turns to Jungkook, and the two of them make eye contact. They both hold perfectly still just in that moment, and Taehyung can feel his heart pounding against his sternum. He can’t stop his eyes from darting to Jungkook’s mouth then back to his eyes. His eyes are wide when Tae meets them again, but he doesn’t look away. Taehyung wants nothing more than to press his mouth to Jungkook’s, to express all the things he’d been feeling for years. Taehyung sees Jungkook look at his lips for a moment, and then, face flushed, turns his attention back to the paper, clearing his throat.

The silence is broken when Jungkook pipes up. “Can I ask you something?”

Tae nods and waits for the question. “Why are you always messing with me? You said it’s because you’re interested in me, but, if that was the case, you could just talk to me.”

Tae sighs and brings his fingers to the bridge of his nose, squeezing gently. “It’s kind of hard to explain. Do you remember in 2nd year, you got a valentine from your secret admirer?”

“Yeah...I thought it was the other Slytherins making fun of me because I would scream and run away from girls. How do you know that?”

“It wasn’t the other Slytherins,” he exhales heavily. “It was me.”

He sees the realization dawn on Jungkook who opens his mouth as if to say something but then shuts it again.

“I gave you that valentine, and you rejected me. I was so hurt that I wanted to get revenge on you. So I started doing what I knew how to do.”

“Are you still mad at me for that? We were kids, and I didn’t know it was from you anyway.” Jungkook is exasperated. His face is flushed, and his chest is heaving. It’s clear to Tae that isn’t processing all this new information well.

“No, I’m not still mad. I stopped being mad pretty quickly. To be honest...it was the only time you talked to me, so I kept doing it. Plus, you’re really cute when you’re upset.” Tae blushes and rubs his hand on the back of his neck. Part of him is so bold and has no problem telling Jungkook how he feels, and part of him is so embarrassed that he wants to fling himself off of the astronomy tower.

They sit in silence for a second, both men with a deep flush in their cheeks. Jungkook picks up his quill and continues to write on the parchment. He stops suddenly and turns to Tae.

“Why the ice?”

Tae can’t help but laugh. No one has ever actually asked him about why he is so skilled with magic to create snow, ice, and all things cold. He is overwhelmed by the warmth that starts to fill his chest from Jungkook being the one to ask him.

“Well, you see, my family is originally from the mountains of Bulgaria. We moved when I was pretty young, and the climate was so different. We all didn’t know how to cope without the constant snow and cold, so one day, I decided to learn. I was able to make snow for my family. Single snowflakes at first then, slowly, more and more. Sometimes it would be a full blizzard in our yard, and the next yard over would be completely bare. It’s always something that meant a lot to me and my family. My parents loved it before they…” he trails off.

Tae turns his face away from Jungkook and stares out one of the many windows. He feels a warm hand on his arm, and it pulls him back to face Jungkook.

“It’s okay to be honest with me. To feel things with me. Emotions aren’t right or wrong; they just are.” Jungkook has a wisdom and sincerity in his eyes and in his voice that makes Tae’s chest clench. He feels like he’s going to cry.

“My parents died in the war. They were Aurors. They were in the battle here.” He takes a deep shaky breath. “Sometimes I go visit the place where they died, but, mostly, I avoid it.”

“I’m so sorry that you have to experience that,” Jungkook breathes out. He still has his hand on Tae’s arm, and he begins rubbing little circles on the skin with his thumb.

“Honestly, it’s okay. I don’t get too emotional about it anymore. I know they were doing what they loved and protecting me. They wanted me to have a better life.” Tae runs his hand through his hair. “Plus, they’re the reason I want to be an Auror. Keep the legacy alive.”

Taehyung gives Jungkook a faint smile, and, once again, the two men sit in silence, this time with Jungkook’s digits tracing patterns on Tae’s skin. They stay like that for what seems like an hour until Professor Sinistra announces that class is over. Jungkook drops his hand from Tae’s arm and packs up his things.

They descend the spiral staircase together, and, when they reach the corridor, they wave goodbye.

“Hey Taehyung,” Jungkook calls out.

“Just call me Tae. What’s up?”

“If you need to talk or anything…” he trails off for a second, bringing his hand through his hair, “I’m here for you.” They both nod and head toward their respective common rooms.

**********

Christmas hadn’t been your favorite holiday since before your parents died, and you could hardly remember the Christmases that you had spent together any more. Since your third year, you had been staying at the castle over the winter holiday. You used the time to explore the castle even further, read, and enjoy the common room alone. Plus, the house elves made the best food during the holidays, which was better than the frozen meals your grandma made for Christmas.

You wrote her a letter telling her that you missed her and loved her and wished her a Happy Christmas. Overall, you didn’t feel too bad because she had her sisters with whom she could spend the holiday.

The day that everyone is leaving for the holiday, Jungkook asks you again if you’re sure that you don’t want to go to his parents’ with him. You assure him that you are used to your Christmas tradition at the castle, and you would rather take the time to be alone. He kisses you deeply before he leaves to catch the train.

You enter the Great Hall to get lunch after you say goodbye to Jungkook, and there is only one table in the Great Hall. There are about 15 students at the table, so you find a seat away from everyone near the Professors’ table. You grab a sandwich off the table and begin to munch away, pondering to yourself what books you are going to read over the holiday.

You hear a familiar laugh across the hall, and you are jerked from your thoughts. Glancing down the table, trying not to noticeably look, you see Kim Taehyung spiritedly chatting with a 5th year Ravenclaw. You didn’t know that he would be staying at the castle over the winter holiday, and you don’t remember ever having seen him here during the break before. The way that your heart flutters and your stomach flips at the sight of him does not go unnoticed, but you force yourself to ignore it. You shake your head and guide your mind to thoughts of what Christmas must be like at Jungkook’s house.

His parents always loved the holiday season. They would decorate the house with white icicle lights, and they would fill the house with small decorations and enchanted candles floating in midair. You remember seeing it from across the street when you were younger and being filled with wonder. Your grandmother had a small artificial tree that sat atop a side table next to the sofa, but she was not full of cheer and Christmas spirit like Jungkook’s parents. You had seen their Christmas tree once as a child, when your grandmother took you to their Christmas party. You remember seeing the fake snow and beautiful ornaments adorning the tree. You had delicately taken one between your fingers to look at it. Jungkook snuck up behind you and shouted, causing you to wince and drop the ornament.

He had apologized profusely to you when you started to cry. You ran away from him and hid behind your grandmother. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but she finally agreed to leave after you begged her for ten minutes. That was the last time that you saw the Jeon’s Christmas tree in person, but they took a photo each year. You loved looking at the pictures of Jungkook growing taller and fuller each year, grinning widely, with his parents and his brother beside him. It made him seem so domestic, which was not something that you felt from him often. You couldn’t help but picture what it would be like there with them on Christmas.

But you were too attached to your tradition of spending the holiday at Hogwarts to let anything pull you away. You finish your sandwich and wipe your hands on your pants. You decide to start your holiday alone in the Slytherin common room and head that direction.

“Hey! Y/n!” you hear as you are reaching the grand double doors of the Great Hall. You turn to see Taehyung bounding toward you.

“Hi! I didn’t know that you stayed here for the holidays!” he exclaims with the enthusiasm he usually has at the beginning of every conversation.

“Yeah, I have stayed since 3rd year. What about you? You’re not usually here for the holidays, right?”

“No, I’m not. This year, my grandma went back to Bulgaria, and I decided I didn’t want to go because...well because I didn’t want to go.” He is holding something back from you, but you let it go because you are not in the mood to invite conversation.

“Well, I better get going. I’ll see you around, Taehyung.” you turn on your heel and set a path for the Slytherin common room.

“I told you to just call me Tae!” he shouts after you, voice echoing off the stone walls.

You spend the afternoon lounging around the Slytherin common room, enjoying the plush couch with your feet up over one of the arms. You sit in front of the fire and read while curled up in a large arm chair. You never feel at home in the common room when it is full of your housemates, but when you get to enjoy its coziness alone, you are always reminded of the homey feel that it does have.

You only leave the common room to go have dinner, and then you return to the common room. You spread out all of your homework across the floor and take your time deciding in what order you are going to complete it. After a few hours of scribbling on parchment, reading textbooks, and reciting incantations, your eyelids start to feel heavy. You slip into your room, comfortable to be alone there. For the first time in a while, you fall asleep easily.

The next day you decide to head to the library to work at your table near the Restricted Section. Your feet guide you to the table amongst the stacks while your mind wanders to thoughts of Jungkook and the future. When you drag yourself out of your thoughts, you notice a figure sitting at your table. Of course he’s there.

“Why, y/n, it’s lovely to see you this morning,” Taehyung chimes, standing to pull out a chair for you.

“Taehyung, seriously, what are you doing here?”

“In the library? With all of my textbooks open? And my homework parchments unrolled? I’m not sure what I could possibly be doing, y/n.”

“I mean, why are you at my table?”

“Is this your table? Huh. I hadn’t noticed. It’s just a table a like.” He smirks, and you know that he knows exactly what he’s doing. “I guess you’ll have to sit and work with me this morning.”

You roll your eyes and drop your book bag on the table. The chair that Taehyung pulled out for you sits, waiting for you, so you plop down in it with a sigh. You pull out your books and begin to work. Taehyung proves to be a good person to be around while studying in the library as well. He is focused on his work, and it forces you to be focused too, though you steal glances at him every few minutes. He looks good like this, hair curly and hanging in his eyes, expression focused and intent. Your mind wonders if this is what he would look like on top of you, inside you.

Your breath catches in your throat at the thought, and you shake your head. When Taehyung looks up at you, you choke on the air you’re trying to inhale and start coughing uncontrollably. Taehyung bolts around the table to your side to try to help, but you push him away. You finally stop coughing, but your eyes continue to water.

“Y/n, are you okay? What just happened?” Taehyung is concerned and his brow is furrowed.

You hastily collect your parchments and books from the table, stuffing them into your book bag.

“Nothing. I have to go.” You dart out of the library and away from the sinful thoughts that your mind had about Taehyung.

What the fuck was THAT!? I have Jungkook. I can’t be thinking about other men like that. And Taehyung of all people?

You descend into the Slytherin dungeon and spend the rest of your day hiding in your dormitory.

You feel Taehyung’s fingers against your skin, and an icy chill runs down your spine. He caresses your arms, your collarbone, your neck. He wraps his fingers in your hair and leans into you. “Just give in,” he whispers, and goosebumps rise all over your skin. He takes the tender skin of your neck into his mouth, sucking and biting at the skin. You can feel the skin of his chest on your bare tits, and you arch your back up into him. “You want to fuck me, so just fuck me.”

You shoot straight up in bed, breath heaving in your chest. You have a thin layer of sweat coating your skin, and you can feel the sticky wetness that has settled into your underwear. You chant, “it was just a dream” over and over to yourself while trying to steady your breath. You are overwhelmed by the images burned in your brain, playing on repeat.

You decide that there is no use in just sitting in bed dwelling on the dream, so you get up, dress, and traipse out of the common room. The Room of Requirement seems like the best option for where to sneak off to in the middle of the night. You figure Taehyung can’t possibly be there because he had been working so long in the library earlier today.

When the entrance appears, you tentatively enter the room. You find that it looks much the same as it usually does, except there is an overstuffed sofa sitting in front of a low-burning fireplace in the corner. You think that it must be there because you need a place to be comfortable, and it was just taking care of your needs

However, as you get closer to the couch, you see the ends of two feet hanging off the side. You roll your eyes and decide to try to leave before he notices you. You make it to the door, but when you pull it open, the hinge creaks a loud, low groan.

Taehyung shoots up off the couch and and calls out, “Y/n!?” before he even sees you. His voice sounds a little panicked, but you figure it might be because he has just woken up.

“Oh, hey, Taehyung. I didn’t realize you were here. I’ll just leave you be…”

“No!” He looks slightly embarrassed by his sudden outburst of protest. “I mean...I would like it if you stayed.”

You sigh and realize that you’re having a hard time saying no to his puppy dog eyes. You sigh once more and make your way over to the couch. “Fine.”

He sits up and scoots over to one side, leaving room for you to sit. You ensure that you are as far from him as possible. The two of your sit in silence staring at the fire for a while before Taehyung’s voice cuts through the room.

“What are you thinking about so hard?”

“Nothing. It’s stupid.” You shake your head and your hand trying to indicate to Taehyung that it isn’t a big deal.

“No, it isn’t stupid. The way that you feel isn’t stupid. What is it, y/n?”

You feel the weight of what you’ve been thinking in your chest. It can’t hurt to talk it out with Taehyung, especially if you are vague.

“Okay. I-I had a dream about someone other than Jungkook. Like an...intimate dream.” You cast your eyes away from the man next to you because you feel like if he looks into your eyes, he’ll see that it was him.

“So?”

“So I shouldn’t be thinking like that about someone that isn’t my boyfriend. I know it’s just a dream, but I think about this person sometimes when I’m awake. Sometimes when I’m with him I just want to kiss him until my lips hurt, and I don’t know what to do with that because I love Jungkook so much, and I don’t ever want to hurt him.” You’re breathing heavy, and you feel the hot tears starting to well in your eyes. You are so angry with yourself for having these feelings toward Taehyung that you just want to cry until you can’t see.

“Well, if you’re feeling this way, have you thought about talking to Jungkook?”

“And saying what? I don’t want to break up with him. I want to be with him for the rest of my life.” The hot tears are spilling down your cheeks now, and Taehyung scoots a little closer to you on the couch. He rests his hand on your leg, and his palm feels like it’s burning your skin through your pants.

“I’m not saying you have to break up. Is it not possible to love more than one soul?” His tone is so earnest and genuine that you start crying harder. You slide closer to him and rest your head on his shoulder.

You don’t have anything else that you can say to him, and you let the words that he just said ruminate in your mind. Is it possible?

Once you’ve calmed yourself down, you pull away from Taehyung a little bit. You lean back and look at him, and he peers at you through his lashes.

“Why are you here tonight? Couldn’t sleep?” you ask.

“Yeah. I’m just having a hard time this holiday, and sometimes I forget that men can make things complicated for me.”

You raise your eyebrows. You aren’t sure what he means, but you know that something has happened to him.

“I just don’t ever feel like I can trust them, you know? My mother was half veela, and so often times men just want things from me because of that. I can’t help that there is a mystical power to the way that I look, but I just wish sometimes that people wanted to know me for who I am.”

You had no idea that Tae was part veela, but you can see it now in his features. He is gorgeous, and you have noticed men falling over themselves to talk to him before. Besides his looks though, Taehyung has so many brilliant qualities, and you are sad that more people are not willing to get to know him more to see them.

“I want to know you for you, Tae.” Now you rest your hand on his leg. You are very aware of the several points of contact between the two of you. His hand on your leg, your hand on his leg, your thighs touching on the couch, shoulders pressed together.

He turns his head slightly toward you, and you realize that the two of you are just inches from each other’s faces. “Yeah?” he breathes.

You notice his eyes dart to your mouth and then back to your eyes. You can’t help but follow his lead. His lips are plump and pink and inviting, and you want to let your mouth rest on the pillows of his lips. Before you can think about it, he is leaning toward you. He presses his forehead and against yours, and his hot breath makes your lips tingle.

A log in the fireplace crackles loudly, sending sparks into the air of the fireplace. You are dragged out of your trance, and you realize what you are about to do. “We shouldn’t do this,” you whisper. You stand up from your place on the couch and stare at Tae for a moment.

“I’m sorry. I have to go,” you apologize and slink out of the room without another word from Tae.

You avoid leaving the Slytherin common room except for meals over the next few days. Christmas dinner is delightful as always. You walk into the great hall and see the large table in the middle filled with dishes and platters and lots and lots of food. You are thrilled by the feast before you. The one large table stretches across the Great Hall covered in treacle tarts, roast turkeys, mountains of roasted potatoes, tureens of buttered peas, and silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce. Your stomach growls, telling you that you have plenty of room for all of the delicacies in front of you.

Tae sits further down the table and keeps glancing your direction. You try to ignore him while you stuff yourself full of food. You aren’t sure what to say to him, so you decide that after the feast you’ll just make your way make the Slytherin common room. Before you can make it out of the Great Hall, Tae steps in your way.

“y/n, I really think we should talk about this,” he says, sounding vulnerable and desperate.

“I really think we shouldn’t, Tae. Nothing happened.” You turn to walk away but are met with resistance. Tae’s fingers are wrapped around your arm, and his eyes are wild.

“Please y/n. I can’t lose you.” Tears begin to pool in the corners of his eyes, and the delicate honey skin on his face is turning pink.

“You aren’t going to lose me, Tae. I just need time, okay?” He finally nods and lets go of your arm. You can’t bear to look back at him, so you scurry off toward the dungeons.

You avoid Tae for the rest of the holiday, and, when Jungkook returns, you throw your arms around his neck, jump into his arms, and kiss him deeply. He wraps his arms around you, grabbing firmly onto your ass, and presses you against him.

“I missed you so much,” you utter into his hair.

“I can tell,” he laughs. “I missed you too. Anything exciting happen while I was gone?”

“Nothing special,” you lie. “Just wishing I had more time to spend with you.”

Jungkook regales you about his holiday, and the two of you cuddle up together in his bed that night. You are so grateful to have him back with you, but you feel a peculiar tugging in your heart.

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

Fortunately, you still had 7th Year Potions with Jungkook, so you got to see him then. Your schedules were quite different this year, and you were finding less and less time to spend together. You were taking Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Herbology, Charms, Transfiguration, and History of Magic. You had loaded your schedule, and, while at times you regretted it, you knew what you needed to do it to become an Auror. Jungkook, however, had already been scouted by several professional Quidditch teams for his skills as both a Seeker and a Chaser. In the last two years, he had decided he wanted to be in the midst of the action instead of just looking for the snitch, so he had made the switch to Chaser. You had to admit he was amazing. Since he didn’t really need his NEWT level classes, he decided to have a fairly easy year. He is taking Astronomy, Potions, Muggle Studies, Care of Magical Creatures, and Apparition (the only thing at which Jungkook had ever failed, so he had to retake it).

You are grateful for the time with Jungkook and, honestly, the time without Taehyung. He was in all your other NEWT level courses because there were so few seventh years in all of them. Not only that, but you were tutoring each other after classes and spending nights together in the Room of Requirement. Luckily, Potions was popular among members of your house and needed for most wizarding careers, so you got to take Potions with Sytherin and Ravenclaw.

In class today, Professor Slughorn is having you brew Amortentia. He says that even though he had you try it in 6th year to see who could get the closest, now he expects you to be able to brew it flawlessly. You are partnered with Jungkook, and the two of you have always worked well together.

You open your book to the ingredients list: Ashwinder eggs, rose thorns, peppermint, powdered moonstone, pearl dust, and a pinch of rose petals. Easy enough ingredients, but the directions are complicated and precise. You find yourself wondering how one does three-quarters of a stir. But you embark on the journey to make a love potion with Jungkook at your side.

The two of you work diligently, taking turns delegating, gathering ingredients, and stirring. Slughorn checks in over your shoulder and makes some vaguely positive sounds in his throat before moving on.

You feel your shoulders drawing up and your jaw clenching, with a thin layer of sweat on your face. Jungkook grabs your shoulders and stares into your eyes. He takes a deep breath, expression encouraging you to do the same. You inhale deeply and let yours go at the same time as him. He runs his hand up and down your arm twice, and then he turns back to the cauldron.

Jungkook has loved making potions since he was a little boy, long before Hogwarts. You had lived across the street from him growing up, and you often went to his house where his parents were making potions or participating in other magical practices. This was where you learned everything you knew about magic before you came to Hogwarts. It was more of a home than your grandma’s home in which you grew up. She was a muggle and did not understand the appeal of magic. She had four sisters who were also single, old women, and they all got together and gossiped most days. You usually just felt ignored and unwanted, but she had taken care of you, clothed, and given a home after your parents died.

You drag your attention back to the cauldron in front of you, realizing you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve stirred. You glance at Jungkook, and he holds up 7 fingers. You finish your last motions with the large spoon then pull it out of the mixture.

“You’re better with the incantations. You should do it,” Jungkook decides.

You wave your wand over the cauldron and mutter the latin phrases spelled out in the textbook. The cauldron bubbles profusely then immediately quiets, surface completely still. It has a pink hue with a pearlescent sheen. The smell wafts out of the cauldron, dancing in your nose. You smell fresh quills, Jungkook, and...you sniff again more deeply. That can’t be right. You must have done it wrong.

“Jungkook-ah, what do you smell?”

He leans closer to the cauldron. He a smile cuts across his face as he takes in the aroma. “I smell a Quidditch pitch early in the morning, fresh baked bread, and you.”

When he says “you,” he turns and looks at you, hoping you’ll be as pleased as he is.

“I smell you too, Jungkookie,” you say and leave it at that.

He grabs your hand and gives you a huge smile, showing all of his teeth. You feign a smile, wracking your brain for any other explanation for the third smell, clear as if he were hugging you in his big arms: Kim Taehyung.

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

It is a Saturday morning in early February, and the sun is already beating down on the grass. You make your way into the Slytherin section of the bleachers, ready to watch the biggest match of the year. Slytherin and Gryffindor had been rivals for as long as anyone can remember. Now that Slytherin had Jungkook, the rivalry became even more fierce. Everyone wanted the chance to destroy Jeon Jungkook, the Seeker-turned-Chaser who was already scouted by national teams. No one had between Slytherin yet this year, but you know that if they did, he would never hear the end of it.

The stands are filled with students from all four houses, and everyone piles into their seats shoulder-to-shoulder. You have a space between you and the person next to you because every still avoids the Slytherin Ice Queen who is also the Slytherin Outcast. You shrug and turn your attention back to the pitch.

The players have mounted their brooms, standing on the ground. Madam Hooch walks onto the field, talks with the players and releases the Bludgers and the Snitch. She takes the Quaffle and throws it in the air, and the game begins.

Jungkook is effortless on his broom, throwing and catching the Quaffle. He takes the first shot within two minutes of the game starting and the crowd goes wild when he scores. He scores four more goals before everyone sees the Seekers see the Snitch.

You look across the stands and see Tae staring directly at you. He motions toward the narrow hallways that connect the stands together. He points to you and himself and motions again. You roll your eyes, but you get up from your seat and make your way down. You watch Jungkook score one more goal and cheer his name loudly before you descend into the area in which you cannot see the match.

You walk toward the Gryffindor section, passing a couple of Hufflepuffs on the way. They give you a dirty look as you pass by them. Finally, you see Tae walking toward you, huge, boxy grin on his face.

“I love watching you watching him,” Tae exclaims. “I can see how special he is to you.”

“He is really special. He’s also super hot.” You shrug.

“Oh trust me, I have eyes.” Tae giggles and moves closer to you. You back away slightly. When he takes two more steps toward you, and you back away again, your back hits the wood behind you.

Tae puts his arm up on the wall next to you and leans closer to your face. His eyes are fixed on your mouth, and you feel yourself swallow. He giggles again.

“Do you think I’m special too?” Tae asks you, and you can feel his breath on your face.

“Yeah, sure, Tae. You’re special in your own way,” you breathe, trying to break the tension.

“I want to be special for you. I want to be special for both of you.” He leans down and presses his lips against yours gently. You freeze because you are not sure what just came over Taehyung. You don’t stop him, but you don’t kiss him back at first. He then snakes his hand around your waist and pulls you closer to him. He tilts his head and deepens the kiss. You can’t help the moan that creeps out of your throat as your body presses against his. You can’t think, so you just kiss him back, mouth working against his. You can hear the cheering in the stands, and an announcement of “Slytherin catches the Snitch!” drags you back out of the moment with Tae.

You pull away from him and gently push his chest away from you. He lets you go, immediately dropping his hands to his sides. You run off down the corridor, hand pressing gently against your lip, trying to figure out what the fuck actually just happened. Your heart is fluttering, and your stomach is doing back flips. It is unlike anything you’ve ever felt for Jungkook. Not better, just different.

You run back toward your place in the stands, but it’s too late. They have already announced that Slytherin has won, and most of the fans are trying to leave. You figure that you will catch Jungkook in the common room after he makes his way back. You decide that you are going to tell him right away what happened with Tae, but you haven’t decided yet if you’re going to tell him what it means to you.

Sound erupts from the Slytherin common room as soon as you say the password and the door swings open. Slytherins from each year are celebrating cheerfully. There is butterbeer and firewhiskey that they definitely aren’t allowed to have flowing, and the Quidditch team is in the middle of the room receiving high fives and pats on the back from your housemates. Jungkook is at the center of it all, and he is surrounded by first, second, and third year girls. He is smiling politely at them and making his way toward the edge of the room. His eyes catch yours, and he shoots you a huge smile, eyes scrunching at the sides.

You wave to him and try to fight your way through the crowd to him. You hear him say, “excuse me, ladies” to the crowd of girls around him, and he pushes his way toward you. When you finally meet, he snakes his arms around your waist and lifts you off the floor. He spins you around then kisses your mouth before he puts you back on the floor.

“Great job out there today, baby. I’m so proud of you,” you say into his ear. You trace your fingers down his arm and grab his hand. You squeeze it then say, “Can I talk to you about something later?”

His expression changes. His smile drops, and his eyes fill with concern. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I think so. I just want to have a conversation with you about something I’ve been thinking about.”

“Now, I’m worried. Let’s just talk now.” He turns you around and guides you by the small of your back up the stairs to the boys dormitory. He brings you into his room and locks the door. “What’s going on?”

You take a deep breath and try to organize your thoughts as well as you can. You look into Jungkook’s eyes to try to steady yourself, but the desperateness in them makes your heart ache.

“You know I was doing some reading,” you pause for a moment, trying to stop your voice from shaking, “there are some relationships, especially wizards, where - uh - well instead of just two partners they might have three or even more. What - uh - what do you think about that?” you stutter a little over your words, but you get them out.

“I don’t have a problem with that. What does this have to do with us?”

“Well, you know, I’ve just been thinking that maybe there is someone that could potentially make both of us happy.” You peer up at his face from the floor, and there is pain in his eyes.

“Are you saying you aren’t happy with me? Y/n, I love you, but if you’re unhappy...I can let you go.” He’s crying now. Big, globular tears roll down his face, and he brings his hand to his chest.

You bring your hand to his cheek and run it through his hair. “No, no. That’s not what I’m saying at all. You make me so happy, but I’ve noticed both of us growing closer to another person who seems to give us each something that the other doesn’t, you know? And if you don’t want to bring him into this, I’ll shut down this idea right now. I would rather be honest with you right now than hold it in and things continue to be weird.”

He lifts his eyes from the floor and meekly asks, “Is the specialness gone?”

“No! Baby, of course not! Everything with you is still special. It is so special to me. I just think that Tae could be special too in a different way.”

His eyes glisten, maybe just from the tears, at the mention of Taehyung. “I just need time to think about this, okay?”

“Of course, baby, take the time that you need. Like I said, if you don’t want it, we don’t do it.” You bring your hand through his hair again and stand on your tiptoes to kiss his forehead. He unlocks the door, and you leave to your room. You feel a sinking in your chest. You don’t want Tae if it means that you can’t have Jungkook.

A few hours later, the party has died down in the common room, and you hear people dispersing to their beds or to the Great Hall for dinner. Then you hear your name. Someone is shouting your name. You fling the covers off of you and clamber down the hall to find Jungkook standing at the top of the steps to the girls’ dormitory shouting your name.

“Jungkook, what’s wrong!?” you blurt out.

“I can’t come in the girls’ dorm, and I’m ready to talk.” He smiles weakly at you, and you run up the stairs. You wrap your arms around him and pull him against you. He leans into your embrace and rests his cheek on top of your head. He holds you there for a few minutes then pulls away.

“If you want to try this with Taehyung, then I am willing to give it a shot,” he whispers, kissing your hair. “I think he could make both of us even happier.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you do anything that you don’t want to do.”

He nods. “I’m sure. I’ve never been more sure of anything except maybe that I’m madly in love with you.”

“Baby, I love you so much! Should we go talk to him?”

He nods again, and the two of you go, hand-in-hand, towards the Great Hall, hoping Tae will be at dinner.

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

After you and Jungkook talked to Tae, things moved pretty quickly. The three of you start hanging out in the courtyard together, holding hands, stealing kisses in the sunshine. With Taehyung, it just feels easy. He fits in with the two of you, and, though there are some growing pains, the adjustment has been fairly easy.

You continue to work in the Room of Requirement late at night with Taehyung, and he and Jungkook have started eating most of their meals together. You all spend time in the library, silently working on homework. You feel so comfortable and happy with the two of them that sometimes you forget that it wasn’t always this way.

***********

One night, you and Jungkook go together to meet Taehyung in the Room of Requirement. When the door opens, the room looks different than usual. The low-burning fireplace is in the corner again, light reflected in a full length mirror in the corner across from it, and there are hundreds of enchanted candles lining the walls. In the center of the room is a large bed, and the two of you look at each other, slightly confused.

The loud creak of the door causes the two of you to turn to see Taehyung standing in the doorway, mouth open. “Holy shit, did you do this for me?”

“No! It was just like this when we got here!” Jungkook sounds a little defensive. You realize that you two have only ever had sex with each other, and he might be nervous about the implication of the atmosphere of the room. You squeeze his hand.

“So, you don’t want let me love you?”

Jungkook clears his throat and stares wide-eyed at Taehyung who beckons him over with his finger. Jungkook obeys and walks to the other man, leaving you standing, dumbfounded and turned on already. Taehyung kisses Jungkook passionately, grabbing him by the back of the neck. Jungkook’s body seems to respond to Tae’s forcefulness, and he kisses Tae back with bruising force. Their hands are all over each other, and they press into each other like they are needy for the other’s touch. Taehyung peels Jungkook’s shirt over his head and settles himself behind Jungkook, kissing the skin of his shoulder and collarbone.

Jungkook leans his head back, resting it on Tae’s shoulder, exposing his neck to the man behind him. Tae runs his hand up Jungkook’s chest, making sure to caress his nipples as he takes a painfully slow route up his torso. He drapes fingers around Jungkook’s throat and gives one gentle squeeze.

With his other hand, he grabs Jungkook’s belt loop and pulls him closer, so his ass is pressed up against Tae’s groin. Tae slides his hand up to Jungkook’s hip and pushes him against him, grinding his hard cock into his backside. He lets out a long groan against Jungkook’s neck, nipping the skin between his teeth, then running his tongue along the red mark he just left.

His eyes drift up from Jungkook’s neck and meet yours. They are full of hunger, and he licks his lips without breaking eye contact.

“Come over here,” he growls.

You walk over, unsure what he’s going to want you to do. You find yourself standing in front of JK, unable to focus on anything except the wetness between your thighs and how good Taehyung’s long fingers look resting on the skin of Jungkook’s throat. Taehyung leans in and bites Jungkook’s skin again, right at the crook of his neck and shoulder, causing him to whimper and press his body back into Tae’s. Jungkook looks so pliant, and you want to watch him submit to Tae. You want to watch him do everything you say. Unable to control yourself any longer, you press your mouth against the other side of his neck, biting and sucking the skin, leaving your marks to mirror the one’s Taehyung is leaving on the other side.

Tae pulls away from Jungkook, watching you marking the other man.

“Get on your knees, y/n,” Tae says in his deep, sultry voice, causing your pussy to clench, “show our Jungkookie how much you love him.”

You nod and sink to the floor in front of Jungkook. You look up at him through your lashes, and he looks like lust. His eyes are blown wide, and his hair is mussed up from Taehyung. His neck is covered in so many blossoms from you and Taehyung, it’s practically an entire bouquet. You reach up and undo his belt and his pants. His hips involuntarily jerk toward you as you pull his pants down.

“Shhh,” Taehyung scolds against his neck, tightening his grip again, “Let her take care of you.” He pulls Jungkook closer to him and grinds against his ass once more.

You reach your hand into his underwear and free Jungkook’s cock from the cotton confines. The skin is so smooth in your hand, and you slowly stroke his length, letting your fingers remember every inch of him. You position him directly in front of your mouth, stick your tongue out without touching him, and look up into his eyes again.

“Please,” he whines in a barely audible whisper.

You shift your eyes to Taehyung, who is rolling Jungkook’s nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He gives you a devilish smirk, and you know that he isn’t even remotely close to done with you.

You lick a stripe up the underside of Jungkook’s cock, and a deep throaty groan escapes him, filling the room. You roll your tongue around his head and along the slit, over and over, making more moans and whimpers escape him. Finally, you take him into your mouth, barely parting your lips and only allowing the tip in. You suck just on his head, and, once again, he whimpers and pants out “please.” It’s only then that you slide all the way down his cock, allowing him to hit the back of your throat.

While you work his dick, Taehyung continues leaving marks along Jungkook’s neck and shoulders. He leans in to his ear and whispers, loud enough for both of you to hear, “Isn’t it delicious to be loved?”

A bolt of heat shoots through you, and you moan around Jungkook’s dick. Jungkook’s hips jerk again, causing you to gag around him. He moans again, and his breathing is getting frantic and erratic. You can feel the signs of him getting close, so you let his dick fall from your mouth, and he whines at the loss of contact.

“You can’t cum yet, Jungkookie. You need to show us that you’re a good boy,” you admonish him and stand to catch his lips with yours.

“Are you a good boy or are you just a little slut because you want to cum?” Tae asks, and you feel another rush of heat to your core. Jungkook shakes his head no, and you rub your thighs together to try to get some relief.

“Stop that, y/n.” You stop. “I think that Jungkook needs to show us he can follow orders. JK, lie down on the bed.”

He steps out of his pants and underwear that are around his ankles and goes to the bed. He lies on his back, hard cock resting on his belly. You stare at how beautiful he is, naked and submissive, hands trembling trying not to reach up and stroke himself.

“Baby, why don’t you show me you’re a good boy and lick my pussy?” You command as you saunter over to him. He nods in reply.

Taehyung moves in closer and runs his hand through Jungkook’s hair. “If at any point it’s too much, you just need to say ‘hinkypunk,’ okay?” Jungkook nods again. “Baby, you’re going to have to use words with us. Try again.”

“Yes. I will say it if it’s too much,” Jungkook pants. “Please let me eat your pussy.”

Immediately, you push your skirt and underwear down your thighs and step out of them. You climb onto the bed and straddle his face, slowly lowering yourself over his mouth. He brings hands up to grip your hips, and as soon as you are close enough, he licks from your entrance to your clit, flicking his tongue several times over the sensitive bud. You moan and toss your head back. He keeps licking steady circles on your clit, coaxing shudders and moans from you. He drops his arm from your thighs and brings his fingers to your core. He slips one finger inside you with ease because you are so wet. Your hips start to rock against Jungkook’s face as he continues pushing two fingers inside of you, curling them up slightly.

Facing out from the headboard, you see Taehyung palming his erection through his pants. He sinks between Jungkook’s legs and takes the head of his cock in his mouth. Jungkook moans against you, and you feel your pussy clench.

“Baby, you have to stop me before you cum,” Taehyung commands. “You can’t cum until I tell you, so you better not cum on my tongue. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” Jungkook mutters against you, causing you to roll your hips against him again. He flattens his tongue and lets you ride his face, intermittently moaning from Taehyung rolling his tongue around the head of Jungkook’s cock. He drops his nose all the way to Jungkook’s pubic bone. You see him swallow around Jungkook, and JK cries out, “fuck fuck. I’m gonna cum. Fuck!”

Taehyung removes his mouth from Jungkook’s cock with a pop and runs his hands up JK’s torso. “Good boy,” he utters as he presses gentle kisses to his hips and his belly. Jungkook writhes under him, whimpering.

“Make y/n cum,” Tae demands. “She deserves to cum.”

Jungkook focuses his attention back on your cunt. Picking up the pace of his fingers pumping in and out of you, he flicks his tongue in steady, slow circles on your clit. You feel the warmth pooling in your belly. With one more slow lick, you feel yourself tumbling over the edge, and you press yourself down a little harder against Jungkook’s mouth.

When you come down from your orgasm, you lift yourself off Jungkook’s mouth. “You really want to be a good boy, don’t you?”

“I am a good boy. I’m so good for you. I’ll be so good.”

Taehyung wraps his lips around Jungkook’s dick again. You respond, “Then beg me for it.”

“Please. Please, let me fuck you. I want you both more than I’ve ever wanted anything before. I’d give up my magic for you to fuck me right now. Please.”

You dismount his face and run your hand through his hair as you stand next to the bed. Taehyung crawls up the bed on top of Jungkook and presses his mouth to Jungkook’s glistening one. He moans into JK’s mouth. “I love tasting her on you.” He pushes his tongue into Jungkook’s mouth and grinds against him a little. Jungkook slides his hands up Taehyung’s shirt and presses his fingers against his firm skin. Taehyung pulls his shirt over his head and throws it aside.

“I want you to watch yourself fuck her. Babygirl, I want you to watch him fuck you.” He pulls his wand from his pocket and waves it in the air. The mirror from the corner moves closer. Taehyung whispers something in Jungkook’s ear that you can’t hear. He pushes himself off of Jungkook and moves toward you. He catches your chin between his thumb and pointer finger and angles your face to kiss him. You can taste yourself on him from Jungkook, and you feel your pussy clench at the thought. You continue moving your mouth against Tae’s, and you slide your hands down his torso and catch his belt. You undo it and the button to his pants.

You whine when Tae pulls your hands away. “Patience,” he whispers and guides you to the bed. You position yourself in front of Jungkook on your hands and knees, spreading your legs a little so he can see how wet you are for him and because of him.

Jungkook grabs your hips and lines himself up with your entrance, but he does not enter you. You turn to him and say, “you’ve been a good boy. You may fuck me now.” He sighs in relief and pushes himself inside of you. You whimper at the stretch of his dick on your walls, but the sensation is already overwhelming to your sensitive cunt. Jungkook lets you adjust, and when you are ready, you push your ass back against him gently. He moans then starts to roll his hips into you.

You look to the side, and the mirror is positioned perfectly that you can see how Jungkook looks fucking you. He’s so perfect. He has his hands on your hips, digging in so hard that his finger tips are white. He toned thighs and torso look delectable naked and behind you. His hair falls in his eyes, and he keeps licking his lips. The thing you focus on the most is the way that his dick looks sliding in and out of you, shiny with your arousal. You watch it going in and out you and bring a hand in between your legs to rub your clit.

In the mirror, you see Taehyung position himself in front of you, his dick in his hand. How did he and Jungkook end up being so hot and still having big dicks? You turn your head to it, and you look up at Taehyung. “Use your mouth,” he orders.

You take his length in your hand pumping a few times, rolling your tongue around the head. Jungkook’s thrusts get faster behind you, and you look in the mirror again. The image of Jungkook snapping his hips behind you and Taehyung’s dick in your hand makes you moan loud. You lick all the way around Taehyung’s dick and then take the whole thing in your mouth. You moan around it a few times, taking it all the way into your throat and back out. Taehyung grips your hair firmly and lets out a few small groans. His sounds of pleasure make you feel accomplished and pride swells in your chest.

“Hyung, can I cum?” Jungkook huffs out.

Taehyung thrusts his hips involuntarily at the request, giving away his arousal for the man behind you.

“Yes, you’ve been good. Cum inside. Fill our y/n up.”

Jungkook snaps his hips erratically a few more times before he is coming inside of you. You can feel shot after shot filling your pussy up. You moan as you feel him painting your insides with his ropes of cum. Jungkook collapses on your back and holds you against his chest.

He finally pulls out of you, and you lie on your back on the bed. Jungkook lies down next to you, spent. You still have your t-shirt on, and it is sticking to your skin. Taehyung slides his fingers under the hem and pulls it over your head. He has his wand in his hand again. He produces an ice cube that he holds gently between his fingers. He brings it to his mouth and presses it against his lips, and the heat between your legs intensifies, goosebumps breaking out across your skin.

Taehyung takes the cube and brings it to your breast, tracing slow circles until he’s at your nipple. You cry out in surprise and pleasure. The cold sensation causes your back to arch off the bed. He removes the ice from your nipple and runs it over Jungkook’s, causing him to writhe against the mattress and grab your hand. Taehyung goes back and forth between your skin and Jungkook’s until the ice cube has fully melted. He licks the water off your skin then off Jungkook’s skin.

“Open your legs for me,” he says to you as he waves his wand over his hand again. This time the ice cube in his hand has a rounded shape. He rubs it on each of your nipples then traces it down your chest and belly, across your mound and down your outer lips. He takes the ice and rolls it gingerly over your clit. A guttural moan escapes from your chest at the frigid contact against your skin that feels like it’s on fire. He continues to pass the ice cube between your folds, specifically over your clit.

He presses his mouth against your center and sucks, collecting the water, your arousal, and Jungkook’s cum on his tongue. Then he rolls the ice over you again. Jungkook leans over and kisses your mouth while Tae focuses on your cunt. Jungkook takes your already sensitive nipples between his fingers and moves in the motions he knows drive you crazy. You can’t hold still against the mattress. You need relief.

“Tae, I need you to fuck me now. Fuck JK’s cum into me. I want you both inside of me.”

Tae removes his hands from you. He stands up straight and takes his cock in hand. “I’ve waited so long to fuck both you. I don’t want it to end.” His dominating demeanor disappears for a second.

“Oh, Tae, the best part about being in a relationship with both of us is that you get to fuck us all the time now. You don’t have to worry. We will do it more. Hopefully a lot more.”

His confidence returns. He takes his cock and runs it up and down your folds, collecting your arousal, heating the skin that was cold from the ice. He pushes into you and moans. “I can feel how wet you are. I can feel all of Jungkook inside you. Wanna fill you up too.”

“Then fill me up, Tae. I want you to cum inside of me.”

“Jungkook, kiss me.” Tae continues pressing in and out of you slowly while Jungkook sits up to meet Taehyung’s demands. He captures Tae’s lips and they kiss each other, all teeth and tongue. Tae keeps one hand on your hip and brings one hand to tangle in Jungkook’s hair. While they kiss, Jungkook brings his hand to your clit. His thumb starts rubbing rough, unforgiving circles. You wiggle under the overstimulation, but Tae’s hand holds you firmly against the mattress. You feel the edges of your vision blurring, and you feel the tightness in your stomach.

As you pinch your eyes shut, you focus on the feeling of the two men fucking you. Your mind goes dark with small sparkles of light dancing behind your eyelids as you cum harder than you’ve ever cum before. You feel your pussy clenching around Tae over and over. You feel a rush like water washing over you, and then you start to come back into the present. You open your eyes and both men are looking down at you with smiles on their faces. Tae picks up the pace of his hips and thrusts several more times, with a shout he cums inside of you.

You feel it fill you and start to drip down you as he continues to fuck his and Jungkook’s cum into you. You moan at the idea. Once he comes down from his high, Jungkook gets on his knees. Tae pulls his dick out of you, and Jungkook uses his mouth to clean him off, then he turns to you and licks your folds. He swallows all the cum that he can reach and looks up at Taehyung with a smile.

Tae lifts him off the floor and lowers him onto the bed with you. He goes and collects both of your underwear and brings them to you. He then makes sure that the blanket on the bed is covering both of you. Once the two of you are covered and warm, he climbs in between you and lies down. You both turn to him and rest your heads on his chest. You listen to his heartbeat and his breathing. He rubs patterns on your bare back with his fingertips.

“Do you need or want anything other than cuddles? How can I take care of you?” Tae asks both of you.

“Just hold me,” you say.

“Tell me how you feel,” Jungkook mumbles, seemingly in his sleep.

“I know it’s early for me to say this, but I love you both so much,” Tae whispers as you are starting to drift off.

“I love you too Tae. I love you Jungkook,” you say, voice heavy with sleep.

“Love you both,” Jungkook says without opening his eyes. He curls deeper into Taehyung’s side and grasps your hand. The three of you fall asleep there like that, and it’s the best night sleep you have had in years.

***********

The rest of the year flies by. All three of you are preparing for your NEWTs, so you don’t have as much time to spend together. You all still make time, one night a week, to spend together in the Room of Requirement. Cuddling up with Jungkook and Taehyung makes you feel safe and loved like you never have before.

You find yourself ignoring the glares and scoffs that you get from people who see you walking with your fingers laced in Tae’s, Jungkook’s arm slung around your shoulders. You don’t care as long as you have the two of them.

During the week of NEWTs, Jungkook makes you tea with honey every night to help you get good sleep, and he rubs Tae’s back for him. To Jungkook the exams are less important, but he realizes that both of you need to do well to achieve your dreams.

By the last day of school, Jungkook has four offers from different national Quidditch teams to choose from, and you and Tae are eagerly awaiting your results to see if you were accepted into Auror training.

The three of you spend a lot of time at Jungkook’s house that May, trying to help Jungkook decide where he wants to play, deciding what you all will do if Jungkook has to move. One mid-May day, you receive a letter from the Ministry of Magic. Your heart pounds against your sternum, and you feel lightheaded. You run across the street to JK’s parents’ house and hold it out to him when he answers the door.

“Do you want me to open it?” he asks. You nod slowly.

He opens the letter and takes his time reading each word. His expression is unreadable when he lifts his eyes. Your mind starts running through all the possibilities. Maybe you failed the Herbology NEWT, and now you can’t be an Auror.

“You’re going to be an Auror, baby!!” Jungkook exclaims, holding the letter out to you.

You immediately begin crying. “Shut up. No, I’m not. Don’t look at me.” You read the letter to yourself, and you see that it’s true. You’ve been accepted into the Ministry’s Auror Training Program. You are going to get to train with HARRY FREAKING POTTER. You hear the phone ringing, and Jungkook’s mom tells him that the call is for him. He comes back a few minutes later.

“How lucky am I?” he says, beaming. “Both of my amazing, intelligent, fucking hot partners are going to be Aurors!”

You are elated that Taehyung is going to be joining you. There is no other witch or wizard that you would rather have by your side, even Potter.

Ultimately, Jungkook decides to stay in London to play Quidditch because, as he says, “he just can’t be that far away from his loves.” The three of you find a flat together in the city and begin your lives together.

On the first day of Auror training, Jungkook walks you and Taehyung to the entrance and kisses you both on the forehead.

“You’re going to do amazing. I love you both. You are both so special to me.”

You and Tae exchange the sentiment and then head into your respective bathrooms. When you come out of the fireplace inside the Ministry of Magic, you clasp one another’s hands, walking in to the rest of your life.

#jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x taehyung x reader #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #bts hogwarts au #bts smut #btswritingcafe #taehyung x y/n #jungkook imagine #dom!taehyung #smutcentralnet

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bettsfic · 4 years ago

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march pinned: ending the sex project

in the march edition of my lowkey writing-related newsletter, in addition to my writing-related post roundup and upcoming consultation availability, i have personal essay recommendations and a segment on the definition of a project!

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full newsletter below the cut, or you can read it here.

fuck february, amiright?

i thought january was bad. but february. february was the stuff of nightmares. my cousin passed away from covid (you can read about her here; she was really an amazing person and i feel so lucky to have known her). i was finally formally diagnosed with PCOS (bittersweet, i guess). my car broke down. i took two (2) days off and it took me two and a half weeks to get caught up again. i can only hope march treats us all a little more gently.

the good news is, i finished revisions on my short story collection to send to my agent, finished workshop submissions for the semester, and now i can return to my first love, fanfiction. that i am constantly working through original fiction to return to fanfiction has been making me think a lot about the nature of a creative, capital-p Project. so, this month’s BTALA (been thinkin a lot about) is going to inspect the concept of a “project.”

new resource

last month i unveiled a folder of my favorite short stories which i’m pleased to hear several of you have perused and gotten some inspiration from. this month i’ve compiled my favorite personal essays. there are fewer essays than there are short stories because i’ve broken them into two groups: personal and craft. next month i hope to have the craft essays compiled.

i’m always looking for more things to love, so if you have recommendations for your favorite short stories and essays, i’d be happy to hear them!

writing-related posts

how to physically maneuver the revision process

the difference between M and E ratings of fic

resources for worldbuilding (check out the reblogs for more!)

a couple syntax/prose book recs

how to break a long work into chapters

march availability

unfortunately i have to cut my coaching hours down a bit, so i don’t have any openings left in march, but i have some availability in april. if you’re interested in a writing consultation, please fill out this google form!

you can learn more about my services on my carrd.

what i’m into rn

for the past year, i’ve basically been trapped in a 10x10 room, and my health is definitely reflecting that, both mentally (does anyone else feel like they’re living in groundhog day? just, every day being exactly the same except fractionally worse than the day before??) and physically (i reorganized the kitchen and could barely move for two days).

reader, i have discovered something called “walking,” in which i put on real human shoes and go outside. it feels strange, bestial. neighbors wave hello to me. a harrowing experience.

while doing this, this walking, i’ve been listening to the lolita podcast which a friend recommended to me, a ten-episode series that dives into everything lolita: the novel itself, its context, adaptations, greater cultural responses, and — as a sticker on my laptop says — vladimir “russian dreamboat” nabokov. as far as i can tell it seems well-researched and presents the many perspectives of lolita in a fair way. i’m only a few eps in, but i’m entranced so far. highly recommended if you, like me, have a complicated relationship with lolita.

i’ve also found myself mildly addicted to a mobile otome game called obey me, which. look i know it’s like the definition of cringe but it’s also mind-numbingly fun and if i want to spend my minimal free time pretending 7 demon brothers are all vying for my affection then that’s between me and god. it’s a lot of what i loved about WoW: frequent events, bright colors, a daily to do list of simple but satisfying tasks, many many rewards, and it doesn’t take itself very seriously. and if i have 4k fic written of mammon/reader that’s nobody’s business but mine and my longsuffering ao3 subscribers.

i’m telling you this because i don’t know anyone else who plays it and am desperate to trade headcanons. so if you play, or start playing, hit me up!! i will give u mad tips and daily AP.

been thinkin a lot about

the project. the project. even the word “project.” PROject (noun). proJECT (verb). what is the project? “project” comes from the latin pro and jacare which means “to throw forward,” or projectum which means “something prominent.” a projector throws forward an image. to project onto something means to throw your perspective onto something else. to embark on a project is to make something prominent in your life. the concept of “the projects” comes from public housing projects, the government throwing forward affordable housing.

what is the project? in joseph harris’ essay “coming to terms” he says that “to define the project of a writer is…to push beyond his text, to hazard a view about not only what someone has said but also what he was trying to accomplish by saying it.” harris’ perspective is that of an english teacher encouraging his students to read critically, not just to summarize a text but to find its project, its greater purpose. and while i first read this essay in a seminar on composition pedagogy, it stuck with me as a writer. it made me reconsider the greater nature of the creative project.

how many of us, if asked to describe our writing project, would begin with a plot or character premise, the nuts and bolts of a specific story? maybe even the working title? but i wonder, is breaking out the plot really the project? is the discipline of sitting down and typing really the project? and when the story is finished, is the project over? what is the project?

in 2019, i wrote 86k words of a novel. i began revising that novel last fall, and i’m finding that i’ll probably keep maybe less than 10k of that initial draft. i’m not bothered by that. the novel i wrote before that started at 125k, then i rewrote the entire thing to 200k, then i whittled it back down to 160k, and next i’ll be tasked with paring it back down to 80k. i’m not bothered by that either. in the past five years or so i’ve written about 2 million words, and i’ve only published 20k of them. only 1% of what i’ve written, i’ve published. in the words of lauren cooper (catherine tate), i’m not bothered.

i used to see publication as the birth of the project, and writing it akin to a long gestation period. then i saw publication as the death of the project, and its life was lived in its drafting. now, publication seems irrelevant to the project. the confines of a story and its many revisions are also irrelevant to the project. the beginning of a story is not the start of the project and the end of the story is not the end of the project. the project is larger than the story, its revisions, its publication, and its eventual readership.

i think it took me so long to see this because for so many years i was still in my first project, the sex project, an exploration of trauma and sexual identity, which began in 2014 with destiel fanfiction, endured through many fandom shifts, my MFA, years adrift as an adjunct, all the way through 2020 with the completion of my short story collection. i used to wonder how anyone could write about anything other than sex. to me it was the only topic worth my attention. i was certain that i would spend my entire life being a sex writer and i’d never find fulfillment writing a young adult sci fi adventure or a highly literary novel about complicated family dynamics. i was baffled by people who were interested in other things, who could write entire novels without using the word “cock” even once.

then my sex project ended. i don’t know when exactly it happened or why, but suddenly i realized i never wanted to write another artful description of an orgasm or find a tactful euphemism for a vagina ever again (personally i prefer “wet cunt” because not only is it blunt, i find it phonetically pleasing). obviously i’m still writing explicit fanfic but it doesn’t feel the same as it used to. sex feels more sidelined to me, even if it’s still the center and drive of a fic. i no longer get any personal satisfaction from writing it, although i do get satisfaction in sharing the work for readers to enjoy.

it’s like i’ve somehow solved the biggest puzzle of my life. or i guess made peace with my meanest monster, that extremely complicated double-mind of desire that some non-sex-repulsed asexuals feel: you want to feel desire you can’t actually feel so you write it into fiction, to try to understand this thing you can’t have and which society tells you you’re missing, and you don’t even know if you don’t have it, because you still feel desire for affection and intimacy, and maybe even a desire to be desired. and for those of us who are asexual and have c-ptsd, sex you don’t actually want (but don’t know you don’t want, because maybe you’re ambivalent and mildly curious and touch-starved) and an unrelenting drive toward people-pleasing can be a dangerous combination. how can you ever know what consent is if you always put other people’s desires above your own?

maybe i’m alone in this. maybe i’m not. maybe for most people, wanting sex is a light switch: yes i want it, or no i don’t. but for me, i had to write a whole lot of words to figure out things like desire, consent, intimacy, forgiveness, the shape that good love takes. the lengthy theoretical flowchart of “i might be interested in having sex if this and this and this and this and this happens in this exact order and under these exact circumstances.”

it was hard to write something into reality that i have never seen except in pieces, in subtext i clung to with no lexicon to give it shape and meaning. te lawrence in lawrence of arabia. some of tarantino’s early work. the film benny and joon. and weirdly, the star wars prequels (that one’s hard to explain; i’ll spare you). i don’t think the sex project was about coming to terms with my asexuality as much as it was trying to organize my thoughts and feelings by continuously rendering my own experiences within a greater, shinier ideal — like how you sometimes have to unravel the entire skein of yarn to find the loose end, and only then can you get started.

i guess i’m in the infancy of the power project now. i’m moving toward themes of control, infamy, greatness. the exact circumstances in which atrocity occurs. how people rise into leadership and fall from grace. the consequences of success. i don’t know why this project has come to me, or what, if anything, it has to do with me. i’m not famous and have no intention of becoming famous; i don’t have social power or influence, at least not beyond my little corner of fandom, and i’m not interested in having it. and yet, here we are, already hundreds of thousands of words in.

my fics digging for orchids (tgcf) and a standing engagement (the hunger games) deal with the detriments of fame. and even float (breaking bad) to a degree is about the aftermath of being so close to power. my novel cherry pop, loosely based on macbeth, is about an ongoing power exchange between two teenage girls. my other novel, vandal, is about a girl who believes she has magic powers and casts a spell on her neighbor to fall in love with her. and i’m in the very early stages of a novel called groundswell, a cult story i’ve been wanting to write for years. i had no idea why i couldn’t write it until i realized it wasn’t yet my project. i’m not even to the stage of developing characters, let alone a premise or plot. i’m still just building my aesthetic pile (i discuss the aesthetic pile here, as well as vandal in more detail), watching documentaries on cults, reading books, finding inspiration, marking down ideas as they come. it may be years before i’m ready to sit down and write it.

now that i know what the project is, i have more patience with myself. it doesn’t bother me to rewrite a novel from the beginning, or to scrap novels altogether, because the story isn’t the project. the project cannot be diminished by cutting words, sentences, paragraphs, entire chapters. the project does not have a product. the project cannot be published. the project is in the practice, in dragging the impossibly large into clear, acute existence, so you can see it. so you can see the very center of what you thought was an unknowable thing.

#pinned #lkwrnl

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prorevenge · 4 years ago

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Screw me? Screw you; I want my money.

This is a revenge in multiple parts and apologies up front for the length.

About 30years or so ago I was 17 and about to head to University. An acquaintance through my parents church offered me a job working with him learning to be a pizza chef. Awesome, I'd need money for Uni and I'd already had a stack of jobs, so working hard was nothing new for me, but being a cook certainly was. My experience with Italian was limited to Pizza Hut. So I accepted that at the start I was a liability, not a help.

I started work, and to start with I worked free. Cool, but when it got to the point about 3 months later that I was opening by myself & taking whole shifts by myself, well, I should be paid. I screwed up all of my 17yr old courage and confronted the owner, let's call him Nick (because that was his name). He huffed and puffed and tried to tell me how terrible I was, but I stood my ground and now I'm on minimum wage. Not bad in my eyes at the time.

I worked there for another 3years, through most of my Uni degree, often putting in 30hrs contact at Uni, 30 hours at the restaurant and 30 hours of study, it was hectic, but just became the norm.

Towards the end I became a lot more savvy, and started researching labour laws, keeping records of my pay packets and end of year tax receipts and realised Nick (& other co-owners) were screwing me. I wasn't on the correct rate, they weren't deducting tax correctly and a couple of other accounting "oversights".

By then I was working with my (at the time) mate, let's call him Girlfriend Creeping Dickhead (GCD).

It was Sunday night - the place was packed I had tickets all the way down my line and GCD and I were pumped. We had a new boss (NB) who'd just bought into the business who thought he was the King Of the World because he was now a "restauranteur", a right wanker, but after years of having to stay back to cook pizzas on world cup nights for the bosses friends, or Chirstmas, NYE, etc I was sorta used to the grandstanding chest puffing behaviour.

The night in question the new boss would *not* let me start the second pizza oven (think a two tier oven - I was only allowed the top tier on) because it "cost too much". So here I am, oven FULL, two pizza chefs running full speed and we're only falling behind, because one oven wasn't enough and it was starting to cool down from being so full and opened so frequently.

NB gets a couple of tables of mates in. Instead of just asking us to cook some comp garlic bread or whatever, he starts loading up trays himself and putting them in the oven, not the worst crime, but because he had NO idea what he was doing, every 30s he'd open the oven to check them, cooling the oven down even further, potentially ruining the food we had in there and slowing us down measurably. I had the Head Chef chewing my ass out as his food was ready to go but my food on teh same tickets wasn't. It was hectic and not fun.

This Garlic Bread Bandit shit had to stop.

me: NB - Stop fucking with my oven. If you want garlic bread - just ask - I'll get it done immediately for you. NB: What? Huh? me: You're messing with my oven - you're cooling it down and we're too busy for this shit - just tell me and I'll make it. NB: Ok.

Did he do it? Nope, he kept on. Queue the same conversation another 2 times, the last time I told him I'd blow my stack if he did it again. You see where this is going. He did it again.

Now - after being consistently ripped off and abused (so many kooky stories from that place) for 3 years, my time was up there anyway, and this was the time to do it.

I looked at GCD and said "Yo. We out of here?" he looked back and simply said "Yup". We stripped our aprons and in front of the entire restaurant (pizza kitchen was in full view of the entire restaurant) threw them on the bench and told NB "We quit - All this, all these tickets, all the food in the oven you've fucked up, and your mates shitty garlic bread - this is all yours now - good luck"

Then we walked out - got some coffees from the baristas, sat in front of the Pizza area and watched him absolutely FLOUNDER. He had *no* idea what he was doing and there was literally no one else there that could help him. We could see food coming out from the kitchen, but the pizza on the same ticket was taking 20m or more longer to come out, tables were hopping mad - we could hear the grumblings all around us. I'll admit it was dickish, but undeniably satisfying to behold.

That's not the pro revenge though. The Pro revenge was that I'd been stealing my timesheet every Sunday night, photocopying it and then replacing it Monday mornings. I'd been doing that for over a year. I'd also told GCD to do it.

Monday I walk in and Nick was there and was *FURIOUS* at me, as I walking in you could see his chubby face turn bright red as he bellowed across the restaurant floor "What the FUCK do you think you're doing here? Get the FUCK out and never come back".

me: Nick - we've gotta talk. We can do it here or we can do it in your office, but trust me, you want to have this conversation privately. Nick: Fine - You come with me then (desperately trying to gain the upper hand back) and he storms to his shitty little office out the back Nick: about how he's going to withhold pay and a whole heap of other illegal hot air. Me: You done? Good... Here - read this:

I hand him a print out of an excel spreadsheet, a stack of photocopied timesheets, a stack of photocopied payslips, printed copied of the wage awards, all of which detail the amount he's ripped me off for.

Me: You owe me 6 grand. I'll take cash or a cheque now.

Did I mention he and the other bosses had *just* been simultaneously raided by the tax office and that they and the business were all on thin fucking ice? Yeah, bad timing for Nick the Dick.

Nick: Spluttering, wringing his hands "But, but, I can't afford it! Look I'll show you my bank accounts" as he physically starts scrambling to find his bank statements. Me: Nick I literally don't give a shit about you, your bank accounts or your situation, you owe me 6 grand *TODAY* or I take all of this to the Tax office and all of the other relevant government departments that will be *very* interested in this, because Nick... I have a feeling if you're doing this to me, you're doing it to other staff here as well huh? As for not having the money, well, again, not my problem, but you just bought a new $60,000 Pajero, so if you have to run that down to the car yard and sell it, again I don't give a shit but I get 6 grand TODAY.

He literally teared up a little, I'm not sure why, maybe through frustration, rage or just being screwed by someone he though waaaaay beneath him. But seeing a grown man who's abused you for many years cry at your hands is a pretty beautiful thing to behold as a 20yr old kid.

I got a cheque that day for my whole 6 grand (and yes, it cashed), but the best was walking out of his office with GCD standing there who deadpan just looked him in the eyes and said "Nick, we need to talk..." and in they walked in to do the same thing. $10k he "lost" that day.

The best part? A few of my friends at the restaurant caught wind of the fact that I had *enraged* him and asked what it was all about - I let them know how they were being screwed, how to take copies of all of their timesheets, and where to find the relevant laws. I know of several other people who did the same thing to him.

And that was how I left the hospitality industry and started working in my field of study, never to look back.

Hope you enjoyed my cake day present to y'all!

(source) story by (/u/faidel)

#prorevenge #by /u/faidel #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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alyssawritesss · 4 years ago

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10K: INNOCENT

Fandom: Z Nation Pairing: 10k x Reader Prompt: N/A Warnings: N/A Notes: Y/N = Your Name

[masterlist] [view my tag list info here] [tip me for my writing if you’d like]

TAGS: @sxturn-stars (permanent tags) // @lillymueller @johnmurphyisbisexual @xxstrangegirlxxx (z nation tags)

If there was one thing you had learned in the apocalypse, it was that being shot hurt a hell of a lot more than they made it look in the movies. It had happened on the road when a group of bikers, dressed as Zs, pulled guns on you guys. You had tried to talk them down, only to get shot in the end. Doc had luckily been able to patch you up and after the entire group besides you and 10k had almost been blown up by the general.

“How are you doing, kiddo?” Doc asks, peering into the backseat through the rearview mirror of his truck.

You nod slightly, adjusting yourself in your seat with a wince. “As good as ever,” you respond, clearly lying. “I’m just tired and the bumps in this road-” you were cut off as Doc drove over another pot-hole, the car bouncing and sending sharp pains throughout your body. “Shit!” you mumble, grabbing at your side. Doc apologizes, slowing down the car before brining it to a complete stop.

Soon, Warren exits the car behind you, walking towards Doc. “What’s going on? Is everything alright, Y/N?”

Doc sighs. “Look around, Warren. It’s so peaceful here. Do you think we could maybe stop for the night? We’re all tired.” You weren’t out of it enough not to notice Doc nodding his head in your direction, a concerned look on his face.

Warren looked to you for a moment and you shook your head. “No, we should keep going.” You mumbled, your voice shaking.

“I don’t think one night of rest would hurt anybody…” Warren spoke. “Mack, Addy… Lets grab Garnet and search that house over there, make sure there’s nothing hiding out. We’ll come get you guys when it’s clear.” Addy and Mack quickly piled out of the back of Doc’s truck, following Warren’s orders.

Some time passed before the four returned, telling you all that the house was clear for you all to enter. 10k and Addy helped you out of the truck and towards the house, being so careful with you that you almost were unable to feel that pain anymore. They lead you upstairs to a bedroom upon Warren’s orders, helping you into bed.

“Really, I’m fine… I don’t need to be in bed. I can help out with watch-”

“No,” 10k and Addy both protested. 10k sighed, continuing to speak. “You need your rest, alright? Just try to sleep, everything will be fine.”

“He’s right.” Addy nodded. “Like Doc said, this area seems to be peaceful… Far more peaceful than anywhere else we’ve been lately.”

You reluctantly agreed before the two exited the room, 10k looking back once more for a sign that you were truly going to be okay. You simply smiled at him, which seemed to calm him down enough for him to leave. Since you had come across 10k during the first day of your mission, the two of you had been practically inseparable. Unbeknownst to you, he felt a sense of guilt over what had happened to you. He felt as if he should’ve noticed sooner and stopped the man, though you hadn’t even thought to blame him for a second. For the most part, he was your rock… one of the only things that truly made you feel safe in this awful world.

As lay in the unfamiliar bed, you find yourself feeling even more exhausted than before, yet unable to close your eyes. This was the first time in years where you had been alone with such strong reassurance that you were safe, yet you still felt so damn terrified. Maybe it was the fact that you had almost died that was making you feel so vulnerable, but everything inside of you was urging you to stay awake, to the point where all you wanted to do was cry.

“Damn it…” You mumbled to yourself, placing your hands over your eyes.

Time continued to pass by, too slowly for your likings, before a soft, barley noticeable knock sounded on the door. You glanced over as the door slowly crept open, revealing a for once unarmed 10k.

“Hey…” You mumble.

“Hey,” He responds. “I just wanted to check on you… See if you were okay. Did I wake you?”

You shook your head, feeling your eyes begin to water again. Clearing your throat, you spoke, “No, I couldn’t fall asleep…”

“Are you in pain? Do you want me to ask Doc for some more painkillers?” He asked, his voice shaking.

Laughing slightly, you attempted to sit up as best as you could. “No, it’s fine… I just…” You trailed off for a moment. “I guess I just don’t like being alone… Sleeping alone. I haven’t had to in years. For so long I had Y/BF(GF)/N and when he/she died, I didn’t sleep…” You continued on, wiping your eyes. “Anyways, I was soon on the road with the others and I just never had to be alone. I didn’t realize how hard it was until now.”

10k nodded, approaching the bed slowly. “I couldn’t sleep for a while after my dad died… He was all I had for most of my life, never really had any friends, so in a way I get it.”

You smiled sympathetically. “You never talk about your dad… Hell, you never really talk about yourself at all.”

“I just don’t see a point.” He mumbled. “That was a whole other lifetime, you know? It was one thing for the apocalypse to happen but losing my dad, that last piece of normalcy…”

“I know what you mean.” You spoke.

It was silent for a moment, 10k looking to the ground. You just watched him as he shifted his feet before clearing his throat. “Y/N, I’m sorry…”

“For what?”

“For what happened to you… I should’ve noticed what they were-that they were alive. If I had, this wouldn’t have happened.” He confessed.

You couldn’t help but smile. “10k, it’s not your fault.”

“Yes it is…”

“No, it isn’t.” You responded, patting the bed beside you. He accepted your request, walking over and sitting beside you, leaning his head against the back of the bed and throwing his feet onto the blanket. “Look, what happened sucks, but I’m okay… I’m going to be fine. It’s not on you, I promise. Nobody could’ve predicted people pretending to be zombies… I mean, that’s insane! I don’t blame you, not for a second.”

10k didn’t look at you, not until you reached out and grabbed his face did he finally turn to look you in the eyes. “I was so worried about you…”

“I know…” You spoke, softly moving your thump against his cheek. “I promise you, 10k… you’re innocent here. Honestly, you’ve been that person through all of this that I know I can count on. I feel safe with you.”

With that, 10k’s eyes widened, looking at you with far more intensity than you’d ever seen from him before. “Y-you do?”

“Yes, you dork.” You smile.

He finally cracks a smile, a light blush coming to his cheeks. “I-I…”

You shook your head, the smile remaining on your face, before grabbing the back of his neck and slowly bringing him closer to you. 10k froze in shock for a moment, before crashing his lips onto yours. The two of you remained like that for a few moments, your lips moving in perfect sync, before you slowly pulled back. 10k’s cheeks were burning red as he opened his eyes, looking deep into your own. You smiled, feeling your cheeks begin to heat up as well.

“10k?”

He nodded, unable to speak.

“Will you stay with me for a while?” You ask.

He nods again, this time with more enthusiasm, “Of course.”

The two of you got more comfortable, him lightly placing his arm across your chest as he faced you. With his other hand he lightly brushed his fingers against your forehead. You were finally able to fall asleep, nothing but 10k on your mind.

~~~~~~~~~~

More 10K from my old blog... Enjoy! I am currently ONLY accepting Christmas-y requests! You can send those HERE if you’d like. Please remember to note and/or reblog if you enjoyed!!

#z nation #z nation imagines #z nation imagine #z nation preferences #z nation preference #10k imagines #10k imagine #10k preferences #10k preference #alyssawritesss: 10k

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fictionalthrill · 4 years ago

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The Uncertainty of it All

A Steve Rogers Fan Fiction.

A/N: So, where to begin? Well, of course I want to thank @dreamwritesimagines for tagging me in their 10k Followers Challenge! It means a lot to me that you still have me on your forever list and that you stringed me along for this. It had been a while since I had written anything and I wanted so bad to make a return. So, what better way to do so than with this wonderful challenge?!Now, I have to confess, I did not plan on writing so much. I actually saw this as something minimal, yet I somehow managed to make it over 5000 words. Like, what? This was never the plan! In fact, if you look at anything I have written previously, I don’t think I’ve ever written something over 5000 words, so this is an incredible milestone. Also, this is nowhere near done. This fic is most likely going to be a two or three part story. Yup, you read that right. The story is only beginning and it is coming soon. The continuation is already in progress and I will notify you all when the next part comes up, which shouldn’t be long from when this is posted (Sep. 15, 2020).

Again, Dream, many thanks and I appreciate the invitation. I hope this does not disappoint. As I read over it I almost did not post it because I am like that. I nearly restarted it, but I decided to just roll with it this time. So there. Finally, I want to thank those who take their time to read this. To Dream’s followers: Greetings Earthlings! Welcome and thanks for the support. To my own followers: Greetings and Thanks for sticking around. Sorry for not being so active. All of that will change now. I hope y’all like this and stay around for more. And to new readers: Greetings as well. I hope you like what you read. Maybe you’ll like it enough to join the ever expanding Tumblr fan fic community. Until then, I’ll see you all on the interweb!

Intro: This story takes place mostly after the accords and during the events leading up to Endgame. This is only the first part of the story. It is a Steve Rogers Fic. I do want to mention that Peggy is in no way included in this story, as I don’t think it would be cool to have the reader insert to feel like there is a competition or something between them and Peggy. Also, I didn’t want to alter that love story because it was too great, even though I am somewhat doing that anyways… Also, the very end of Endgame will be changed in some way because of this. I just wanted to let you all know.

Steve Rogers Imagine/ Steve Rogers x Female!Reader IMAGES NOT MINE

Summary: As a result of the accords, Y/N felt it was best to take a step back from the Avengers and go her own way. In turn, her decision affected her relationship with her older brother Tony. However, her relationship with Steve, wasn’t so much affected, only left uncertain. At the same time, an even bigger threat is making its way towards Earth— Thanos. And regardless of their differences, it is forcing everyone to come together.

Sometime after the Accords…

With your back leaning against a wall, you survey the perimeter. The lamp posts shine, bringing into view the entire street. There is no one around, and the only noise you hear is coming from a nearby bar. You have to do it now. You raise the scarf around your neck up to your nose and slowly drift towards the car. It is just the right one to get you across the border. It’s enough to keep a low profile. Once you’re out, you’ll drop it off somewhere and notify the authorities so that it can be recovered. Easy. No muss, no fuss.

You stand next to the door and take one final look around before you get to work. With your set, you pick on the lock, waiting to hear the click. When it finally comes, you pop the door open. Half your body inside, you begin to pull the door towards you, but it’s held back. A hand latches on to the top of the frame, keeping you from closing it. Instantly, you take a jab at the person’s gut. Hopping out of the car, you kick their side, and aim your elbow at their face. But before they can bite the blow, they stop your forearm from getting too close. Your eyes meet the ones of the figure towering over you, and you find yourself devoured by a wave of the lightest of blues. You can recognize those eyes anywhere.

“You’re getting sloppy.”

“More like comfortable,” you say through your face cover. “Then again, didn’t know I had to keep an eye over my shoulder for you…”

He lets go of your forearm and takes a step back. You check your surroundings. “You brought company?”

“No need for it.”

You shut the car door behind you. “What are you doing here, Steve?”

“I was in the area.”

“Sorry to say I don’t believe that.”

“Any specific reason why you don’t?” he asks.

You cross your arms. “Because I picked this place knowing very well you were nowhere near here.”

“You’re keeping tabs on me.”

You shrug. “You… and Romanoff, Wilson, Maximoff…”

“Well it is only right I do the same.”

“Right… that still doesn’t tell me what you’re doing here.”

“How about you tell me what you are doing in a city like this trying to steal a car like that.” He points at the car behind you.

“You’re the one with the info, why don’t you tell me?”

“I can tell you I know why you’re staying close to New York.”

“You weren’t stringing too far either.”

“Been keeping an eye on you.”

“Come on, Steve. Don’t act like your reason to stay close to New York isn’t the same as mine.”

“For my team it is,” he pauses, “for me, it isn’t.”

You swallow after his words. You want to pretend like you didn’t just hear that, but you did, and you know what he means by it. Lost in thought, you almost don’t notice him getting closer. Your back hits the side of the car, the cold seeping through your top. Your eyes watch him as he slowly raises his hand near your face, and grabs on to the face cover you forgot you had on. Gently, he tugs at it, exposing your face completely for only him to see.

“You and I both know you don’t need that,” he whispers with the hint of a smirk lying on his lips. His hand rests on your cheek. His warmth blending easily with the heat coursing through your body. Your hand reaches up and grabs a hold of his wrist.

“What are you doing here, Steve?”

“I had to see you.”

“Steve, it’s not safe for you to be doing this.”

“I know… but so far, it’s been worth it.”

“You’re not thinking straight.”

He raises his other hand to cup your other cheek. “I think I am.”

Suddenly, a door slams open. A group of people stumble out of a bar. The noise rips you two apart. Steve takes a step back and drops his hands at his side. He bows his head to avoid being seen, while you look the other way with the same intention. The group’s laughter dies out as they walk in the opposite direction. He watches as they get further and further.

“Like I said,” your voice grabs his attention, “it’s not safe. You never know.”

“It’s fine, trust me. I made sure it was safe. And, if it’s safe for me it is safe for you too. But what I don’t get is why you’re acting like a fugitive.”

“I’m not.”

He gives you look.

“What’s your point?” you ask.

“My point is, last I checked they are after me, not you,” he pauses for a moment, “why aren’t you in New York, Y/N?”

“Might I remind you who helped you break out your band of misfits from that prison?” you say, “You don’t think I’d be in the slightest bit of trouble for that?”

“I haven’t forgotten, nor will I. But I also haven’t forgotten how we made sure there was no trace of your involvement.”

“Come on, Steve. These people are very well aware of who broke into that place, as well as who had a hand in disabling those cells.”

He stands there and studies your face, searching for some kind of explanation. You know you can’t lie. The way he is looking at you tells you he’ll pick up on any lie you say to him. You sigh. “After everything that happened with Tony during and after the accords, I assumed… I just assumed he wouldn’t want to see me, Steve. Not after what I did.”

“Y/N, believe when I tell you Tony is in no way holding your decision against you. If there’s someone he is unhappy with, it’s me.”

“Steve-”

“Y/N, trust me.”

“You don’t think he’s hurt that his own sister refused to sign those accords?”

Steve stares at you intently. He takes in your every feature.

“He thought I never signed them because of you. He believed I chose you over him.”

“But I know you didn’t.”

“Do you?”

“I know you had your reasons, but I wasn’t one of them.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

Steve chuckles. “You could never disappoint me.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Positive.”

A silence stretches between you two. Neither of you says another word. Finally, you break the silence.

“I think I should go,” you say. You open the car door but his words hold you for a moment.

“Where will you go?”

“If I tell you I won’t have you looking for me,” you say as you hop inside the car, “and where is the fun in that?”

Steve smiles. “One last thing, why are you stealing a car?”

“Stealing? Who said anything about stealing? If I’m doing anything its borrowing. I think you taught me that.”

“I did, didn’t I?” he pauses. “Go see Tony, Y/N. Talk to him.”

“I’ll see you around, Captain.”

Years later. The day Thanos’s army arrives.

It’s been a while since you last saw Steve. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t miss him. You did. You do. And right now, you could really use his support and his encouraging words. But he is not here, so you are on your own in this one. All you have are the last words he said to you, haunting you like crazy. Go see Tony… Talk to him…

Damn him. Damn him and his ability to be right whenever he opens his mouth. His words continue to gnaw at you, now even more so when you stand just a few feet away from Tony. You’re pretty sure he has no clue you are there. You hope he doesn’t.

You watch him as he talks to Pepper. They look so happy. Tony actually looks happy. You never thought Pepper would be the one for him, but you’re glad that she is. You stop and wonder if you will ever have that… if you’ll ever be that happy.

You snap back to reality the moment you see Tony step through a portal with Bruce and some other guy. You run in an attempt to reach them before it disappears, but you are too late. You only make it to Pepper’s side.

“Pepper, what happened? Where’s Tony going?”

“Y/N?” She gives you a quick hug and steps back. “Oh my God, you’re here! Where have you been? We’ve been worried,” she says.

“I’ve been around. Where is Tony going Pepper?”

“I- I- I don’t know. Bruce just appeared out of thin air with some man in a cape and he left with them.”

“Do you know why?”

“I don’t. It all just happened so fast.”

“Alright. I’m gonna-”

Your words are cut short when you notice a giant contraption suddenly appear in the sky. You hear people run and scream as it descends lower and lower. You have no idea what it could possibly be, but you figure it’s the reason why Tony left through that portal in the first place.

“Pepper, you need to get out of here. Call someone, call anyone, call Happy! Get him here now and have him get you out of here, okay?”

“What about you?”

“I’m going to find Tony and see what all this is about.”

“Do you have gear for this?”

“I wasn’t really expecting something happening today, so no.”

“Then just come with me, Y/N. It’s most likely not safe.”

“It is definitely not safe, Pepper. But I can’t just leave. Please, get somewhere safe and let me know as soon as you can.”

“Be careful, Y/N.”

“I will.”

You begin to run in the direction of the flying contraption, searching for shortcuts as you go. The streets are chaos and getting through is impossible.

“Out of the way! Move! Out of the way!” you yell as you push through the madness. You turn on a curb and see Tony in the distance, shedding away some restraints. Once he is free, he looks at Bruce and the man next to him, and ascends in his suit towards the ship.

“Tony! Tony wait!” You yell as you run, but you know it is no use. You don’t make it in time.

Bruce reaches your side. “Y/N?” he says.

“Banner, what is Tony doing? Where is he going?”

“He’s gonna try and get Strange out of that thing. You got a suit like Tony’s?”

“No.” Your eyes land on a man standing near Bruce.

“Uh, this is Wong. He’s with Strange.”

“Hi,” you say to Wong. He nods in response. You step away for a moment, dialing for Pepper on phone.

“What are you doing?” Bruce asks.

“I gotta make a call. I need to talk to Pepper,” you say. “She needs to know.”

When you step away, you don’t notice Bruce bending down and collecting a flip phone from the ground. Behind him, Wong makes a portal and steps through it.

“Where you going?” Bruce asks Wong.

“The Time Stone’s been taken. The Sanctum remains unguarded. What will you do?” Wong says.

“I’m gonna make a call.”

At his response, Wong closes the portal, leaving you and Bruce in the middle of the disaster.

“Okay, we need to go, now!” you say.

“Where?”

“The Avengers Facility upstate. I believe Rhodey’s already there. Come on, let’s go.”

“Okay.”

Later that day; The Avengers Facility.

“So that’s what Tony meant by the Avengers being broken up,” Bruce says.

“Yeah. And that’s not even the half of it. There’s still a lot we need to get you up to speed with.”

“And what happened between you and Tony?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t know. It seems like everyone else had a role in this issue except for you.”

“I…” you start, “I never signed the accords.”

“So you sided with Steve.”

“This wasn’t about sides. However, Tony managed to make it about that. Every single one of us had a choice to make, a path to follow. I, like Steve and Wanda and Sam, saw the other side of the coin when we said no. I knew very well what these accords would mean to the UN and the officials. Nothing good was to come from their involvement in the decisions the Avengers made as a team. Tony and I didn’t agree on that part and that’s what created the conflict.”

“I see.”

“What do you think you would have done if you were here?”

“I don’t know. I probably would have signed.”

“Of course. Anyhow, right now, the main priority is trying to get this Thanos guy before he gets his hands on those stones.”

You and Bruce continue to work while Rhodey handles his meeting with the secretary and other officials in the other room. Focused on the task at hand, you become unaware of the Quinjet’s arrival, and the teams entrance into Rhodes’s meeting. You almost miss Bruce drifting off to the other room, but you don’t follow him.

He jumps right into the conversation between Rhodes and the team. “Uh, I think you look great.”

At his words, everyone turns, practically in shock to see him. “Uh…” he chuckles. “Yeah, I’m back.”

Natasha takes in his presence. “Hi, Bruce.”

The two stand a few feet apart, just staring at each other.

“Nat,” Bruce says. She smiles.

Just then you come into the room, your focus entirely on a pad you have been using to search and gather information. You don’t tear your eyes from it until you reach Bruce’s side.

“Bruce, do you know if-” your words are cut when you notice the rest of the team standing in the room. You see Wanda and Sam, who help keep up an injured Vision. You also see Nat, with shorter blond hair. And then your sight lands right on Steve. His hair is a bit longer and he’s grown a beard. He looks so different. The image you had in your mind did not match the image of the man standing before you today.

“Steve,” is all you say. The rest of the team watches you and Steve. No one speaks, until Sam, of course.

“This is awkward,” Sam says.

Oh, and it was. For a bit. After that you all moved to another room to discuss Thanos and come up with a plan to stop him. You were laying low while everyone came together, mostly to bring Bruce up to speed. He was surprised to learn there was an Ant-Man and a Spiderman. Throughout the meet, every so often Steve would sneak a look at you. When he spoke to Bruce, he was never told you were there. He expected he’d be the one to call you, but he obviously didn’t need to.

As the gang discusses the stone, Bruce explains that there has to be a way to remove it from Vision, without causing his physical form any harm.

“Can we do that?” Natasha asks.

“Not me, not here,” Bruce replies.

“Well, you better find someone and somewhere fast,” Rhodes says. “Ross isn’t just gonna let you guys have your old rooms back.”

You glance at Steve who is deep in thought until his eyes meet yours. You can tell by the look on his face he has the same idea. You know exactly where to go.

“I know somewhere,” he says.

Moments later…

After Steve shares the details of where they can all go to work and prepare for Thanos, the team is packing whatever they need to leave for Wakanda. Everyone heads their own way to grab their suits, you included.

In your quarters, you change into your tactical gear, leaving aside the nanotech suit Tony actually bothered to create for you. Like Natasha, you too have your own set of skills. While you have the brains similar to Tony, you never followed in the steps of your father. You instead took a bigger role in the field as opposed to one behind the scenes. You were and continue to be very hands on. Not long after Loki’s attack you became a part of SHIELD, and served as a part of Steve’s team, as well as Natasha’s, under Fury’s orders, of course. That was until the truth of SHIELD was unearthed and everything changed. With Hill, you joined your brother and assumed a split role as a scientist and one of the world’s defenders .

Tony was more than happy to have you by his side. When things changed for him, he changed, and so did your relationship. But that wasn’t the only relationship that blossomed. So did your relationship with Steve. Somehow, between your time at SHIELD and your time slowly becoming part of the Avengers, something happened. You two were close. Not as close as some believed— neither of you really acted on your feelings. But there were feelings. There still are feelings.

You scan the case with the suit Tony created for you. It has your name on it and everything. Maybe he planned to surprise you. Maybe he waited for you to come by. Though you appreciate his work, you were never one for the suit. Personally, you don’t like to depend on it. Sure, you played around with every suit he’s ever made you. And you love him for always thinking of you when creating a new model. But, the suit isn’t you, and you like being you. Either way, he made it for you. Yet, right now, you aren’t exactly sure you deserve it.

“What’s in the case?” Steve says as he enters the room. In all honesty, you were not expecting him any time soon. But then again, the soldier is full of surprises.

“A, uh, a suit. The latest one Tony made for me.”

“I see. Something wrong with it?”

“No.”

“Then, what’s-”

“I don’t think I deserve it.”

“Why not?”

“You know why. Besides Tony, you are the only other person to know me sufficiently enough to know why.”

“I guess I don’t understand why you continue to punish yourself.”

“Because right now my brother is somewhere off in space fighting God knows what and I’m not there. And why? Because I was too damn stupid to come and see him sooner.”

“You’re not stupid, Y/N.”

“I’m not? Cause I sure feel stupid. God! I should have just signed those damn accords!”

“You and I both know that wouldn’t have made a difference. You wouldn’t have been happy.”

“What and you think I feel happy now? Do you think that at any point during or after the accords I have actually been happy?”

“Look, Y/N, I get it-”

“No you don’t get it,” you say, “Where were you?”

“Edinburgh.”

“Edinburgh? Okay.”

“We had to move around. New York, let alone the US, was too big of a risk. We had no choice but to leave.”

“Thanks for the postcard.”

“I couldn’t just tell you. You know it wouldn’t have been safe.”

“You could have at least told me you were leaving.”

“It just happened.”

“How did you even get here? How did you find out?”

“Luckily, Bruce called.”

“Luckily, Bruce called? Really?”

“Well, I didn’t see you dialing for help any time soon.”

“Oh please, had you’d been here from the beginning we wouldn’t have been in this mess in the first place.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Fair? None of this has been fair, Steve,” you pause. “I thought Loki was it, but this guy, this Thanos… he could be the end of all of us.” You shake your head. “We should have been there, Steve. And not just today, but from the start.”

Steve sighs. “We couldn’t have known.”

“No, but we should’ve listened to Tony. He warned us something like this would come and we didn’t listen.”

Steve takes a step closer to you.

“He counted on us and we weren’t there,” you continue. “And now what? Where do we go from here?”

“We go to Wakanda, we remove the stone from Vision, and we fight.”

“What about Tony?”

“Tony will find his way to us. Believe me. You know the type of person he is. He always finds his way back.”

“What if this time is different?”

“It won’t be.”

“Why did you leave without telling me? Why didn’t you ask me to go with you?”

Steve walks over until he stands before you. He places a light hand on your cheek. “You and I both know you wouldn’t have come.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Would you have come if I had asked?”

You just stare into his eyes, not uttering a word.

“I didn’t ask because I was saving myself from the rejection.”

You chuckle, but a tear slides down your cheek. “I’m sorry.”

Steve shakes his head and brushes the tear away with his thumb. “Don’t apologize. None of this is your fault.”

“God…” You rest your forehead on his chest. “I should have come to him sooner. I should have listened to you.”

“Hey,” he says. You raise your head up at him. “None of this is on you. Tony will be alright. He’ll find his way back.”

You take a deep breath. “I know. You’re right. You always are.”

“Not always.”

“Most of the time.”

“Yeah.” You drop your head on his chest again.

Steve lays his chin on top of your head. For a moment, its just you two. You both just stand there, comfortable with the closeness and silence.

A set of footsteps grow close but neither of you pay mind to them. Sam stops at the door and lightly knocks. Both of you breakaway, but not with a sense of urgency. You simply do to give Sam the attention.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Sam says.

“No, it’s fine.”

“It’s alright, Sam,” Steve says. “Everything in order?”

“Yeah, everyone’s ready.”

“We’ll meet you there,” Steve says. Sam nods and he walks away leaving you two alone again.

“We should go,” you say.

“Yeah.” He brushes a lock of hair from your face. “You okay?”

“Of course. You?”

“I’m okay as long as you are.”

You smile, but not genuinely. There isn’t exactly happiness behind it. “Let’s go.”

You and the rest of the present Avengers sit in the room after the meeting with the secretary. The Accords are… well they’ve managed to split the room. At the moment, Sam and Rhodey are going at it. Rhodey is clearly in favor, while Sam is not. They both stand behind Steve, who closely examines the Accords. You watch him, and you’re pretty sure he’s not on board.

Vision cuts off Sam and Rhodey’s argument with an assessment of his own. He believes that, while it is not the Avenger’s fault that so much catastrophe has impacted the world, the existence of the group is a “causality.”

“Boom,” says Rhodey.

Beside him, Sam stands with arms crossed. He sends a look of disapproval at his response.

“Tony,” Natasha says, “You’re being uncharacteristically non-hyperverbal.”

“It’s because he’s already made up his mind,” Steve says.

“Boy, you know me so well,” Tony replies and he stands up, walking away from the group.

“No,” you jump in, “I know you so well, but he’s not wrong, isn’t he?”

“Actually, I’m nursing an electromagnetic headache. That’s what’s going on, Cap. Sis. It’s just pain. It’s discomfort.” He approaches the kitchen sink, grabs a coffee mug, and reaches inside the sink. “Who’s putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?”

You all just watch him as he speaks. He then places a pad on a basket on top of a counter and it displays the picture of a young man.

“Oh, that’s Charles Spencer, by the way. He’s a great kid.”

You sneak a glance at Steve. He may not know where this is going, but you do. Tony’s behavior right now, is only a result of guilt. He’s displeased; he feels that he’s failed.

“Computer engineering degree, three-point-six GPA, had a floor-level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul… before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn’t want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn’t go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where. Sokovia.”

You drop your head. There it is.

“He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won’t know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass.” He takes a pill and sets the mug down. “There’s no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I’m game. If we can’t accept limitations, if we’re boundary-less, we’re no better than the bad guys.”

“Tony, someone dies on your watch, you don’t give up,” Steve says.

“Who said we’re giving up?”

“We are if we’re not taking responsibility for our actions. This document just shifts the blame.”

“Sorry, Steve. That-” Rhodey says, “That is dangerously arrogant. This is the United Nations we’re talking about. It’s not the World Security Council, it’s not SHIELD, it’s not HYDRA.”

“No, but it’s run by people with agendas, and agendas change.”

“That’s good. That’s why I’m here,” Tony jumps in as he walks up to the group, “When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands… I shut it down and stopped manufacturing.”

“Yes, but you saw the truth after the fact, Tony,” you say, “I told you once that what was being done with the company was not right. I even expressed my distaste of Obadiah Stane and you kept him on until you saw him rocking your first prototype. Plus, you can’t compare your position in a private company with the position each of these people hold in the UN.”

“Who’s comparing? I’m not comparing, but by my example you can tell how it works. I kept the company in check, sis.”

“Tony, you chose to do that,” Steve says. “If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don’t think we should go? What if there is somewhere we need to go and they don’t let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.”

“If we don’t do this now, it’s gonna be done to us later. That’s the fact. That won’t be pretty.”

“You’re saying they’ll come for me,” Wanda says.

“We would protect you,” Vision states.

“Maybe Tony’s right,” Natasha suddenly speaks. Tony turns to her. He’s in a bit of a shock. She continues, “If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off-”

“Aren’t you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?” Sam says.

“I’m just… reading the terrain. We have made some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back.”

“Focus up. I’m sorry. Did I just mishear you or did you agree with me?”

“Oh, I want to take it back now.”

“No, no, no, you can’t retract it. Okay. Case closed. I win.”

“I’m gonna look this over.” Steve says as he stands up and walks away, leaving the room.

“Great. So we’re done here,” Tony says. The majority exchange glances and one by one start leaving. Vision accompanies Wanda, while Rhodey and Sam share a look then walk in opposite directions.

“You alright?” Natasha asks you.

“Just peachy,” you answer. Your eyes are fixed on Tony who is in the kitchen again.

Natasha notices you looking at him. “Alright well, I’ll be around if you need me.”

You nod and wait until she leaves the room. Once it is just you and Tony, you are ready to let it all out.

“Are you pleased with yourself?” you ask him.

“Currently? Very.”

“You really don’t get what these accords will do to the Avengers— what it’s already doing.”

“We need to be kept in check!”

“You keep saying that but fail to understand what comes with signing our names away!”

“This has been long overdue, sis.”

“How can you say that? When the government wanted your suits, you actually made a whole spectacle about it and said no. Now all of a sudden you want to cooperate and follow orders?”

“Look at everything that’s come since then.”

“Tony, we didn’t have control over any of that. Even now without the UN’s influence, we don’t have control over whoever decides to wake up one day and wreck havoc on the world. I mean, you heard Steve-”

“Oh, don’t even get me started on that. You can’t help but be on his side.”

“No, it’s not about that! This is not about sides. Do you not understand how this panel can make a decision for us that we don’t agree with? Their agendas can change.”

“And there she goes again ladies and gents, she quotes the Cap’n now,” Tony says while extending his arms.

“You are making my argument something that it isn’t. This isn’t about him.”

“Isn’t it? You are taking his side over mine.”

“This isn’t about fucking sides, Tony!”

“But it is. Right now, that’s what this is coming to. You are either on his side or mine, and you’ve clearly chosen your side.”

“I don’t understand how me disagreeing with you has become about sides.”

“Because of your feelings for him.”

“Tony, you’re my brother, if this was about feelings I could have easily agreed with you because we’re family. But that’s not what any of this is about.”

“Look me in the eye and tell me that your feelings for him aren’t influencing your decision right now.”

“Fuck you, Tony. How dare you?”

“So you don’t have feelings for him now? Come on, sis. Your feelings for him have been blossoming since Loki’s terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.”

You stare at him. Quiet, trying your best to contain yourself.

“Tell me. Are there no feelings for the Cap’n?”

“Fine, yes. You want the truth? I have feelings for Steve. But the fact that you believe that it is in some way influencing me right now is just childish and beneath you. What? Do I not have my own mind? Do I not have my own voice? Am I not capable of voicing my own beliefs? Yes, I agree with Steve and what he said, but that’s just it.”

“Okay, so no feelings. I’m sorry. But Y/N, come on, how can you not see this is the best thing for the Avengers?”

“And how can you not see it’s not? Tony, had the Avengers never existed, where do you think civilization would be right now? I don’t want to say that they owe us their lives, but the fact that we’ve taken action is what’s kept them here another day. And it wasn’t because we were told to do it, it was because we felt we had the responsibility and we followed our guts.”

Tony just shakes his head. You take a step closer to him.

“Tony, we can’t just put our decision making and our actions in the hands of people who have their own agendas. Who knows what they could use us for. What if this agreement leads us to form part of something we don’t want to be a part of? What then? You are literally the face for just acting most of the time instead of thinking. You sign this, that’s gonna change.”

“I’m fine with that.”

“Are you?”

“The Avengers need to be administered.”

You scoff. “Administered? You mean controlled, overseen, dominated, contained,” you pause. “You know who’ll have it the worst of all? Wanda. She’s only starting to learn to grasp her powers and what happened with her was an accident. What do you think they’ll do with her? She’s already afraid as it is. We can’t sign this, Tony.”

“I can’t not do that.”

“And I can’t sign them.”

“Then I guess we’re done here.”

You nod. “I guess we are.”

Later that day you pack some of your things into a bag after deciding it was best to leave. You won’t be a part of this and lurking around the facility was not going to do much for you. As you leave your quarters, you run into Steve.

“Y/N, hey-” He notices the bag in your hand. “You’re leaving?”

“Uh, yeah. I think it’s best I don’t stick around for any of this.”

“Are you and Tony alright?”

“No. And I don’t know when we’ll ever be. In the time that I knew our Dad, he always said Tony and I were going to be different in many ways. Guess this is one of those ways. We just don’t… we don’t see eye to eye.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why? It’s not your fault.”

“But I know he thinks it is.”

“What do you-”

“I didn’t hear the entire discussion, but I heard some of it.”

You go stiff. If he heard some of it, you can only assume… “You heard what I told him.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“But you did.”

“I just-”

“Please, don’t say anything, Steve.”

“I don’t I need to say anything, Y/N,” he says. “I know the timing isn’t right, but you should know by now how I feel about you.”

“Am I supposed to think you feel the same way.”

Steve takes your free hand in his. “I’m not good at this.”

“I’ve noticed. But it’s still working.”

“I-”

“Hey, Cap,” Sam interrupts him.

You sigh and drop Steve’s hand from yours. “Oh, Sam. Your timing is impeccable.” You chuckle.

“I’m sorry, guys. I could leave and come back.”

“No. I’m about to leave, it’s fine.” At this point, there’s no need to hide it or play it off. Sam’s seen you two. He knows. You place a light hand on Steve’s cheek. “I’m gonna go.” You smile at him.

“You shouldn’t have to,” Steve says.

“I do. Trust me. It’s best if I’m out of here. I’ll see you guys.” You say and leave the boys behind. “Call me if you need anything.”

You walk through the halls of the facility until you make it to one of the exits. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Tony watching you. You toss him a quick glance and then you finally leave the facility.

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