#lol i see where more in-betweens should have been now that ive sat on it so long hahaha

[theminiartblog]

My part of a MAP that's on hiatus <3

[pepsiboyy]

HEARTSTRINGS. - p5

p4 ⚜ masterlist ⚜ p6

pairing: chris sturniolo x fem!reader summary: after moving to massachusetts from florida, y/n lives with her half brother, nathan doe, who is part of a small garage band. their sassy guitarist, chris sturniolo, can't help but get on her nerves. but there's something about him. warnings: use of y/n lol, cursing, fluff a/n: HIIII sorry for the wait!!! ive been adding to this chapter as time goes on and this is the final product because i know yall have been waiting for it <3 love you guys so much thanks for the support!!!

"i got us a show!" nathan exclaimed, his eyes just as wide as his smile as he gripped a piece of paper, waving it in front of him.

i clasped my hands together in excitement, and smiled brightly. "yes!! where?"

"soundwave lounge!" nathan smiled warmly as he handed the paper to chris, who held it out for ben to see as well.

everyone had such a bright smile.

i smiled as i watched chris's excitement run through him.

"i think we're good to go, we just need a vocalist," chris mumbled, as everyone slowly averted their gaze towards me.

i blinked a few times as i chuckled nervously. "me?" i choked out.

"yeah, you'd be great!" nathan happily wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me in and looking towards chris and ben with a wide smile.

i stared at chris for a moment, who gave me a reassuring smile, before i spoke up. "fine, maybe."

chris and i had been seeing each other for about a week and a half now. he would often spend the night with nathan, who would fall asleep quickly, prompting chris to come to my room and spend time with me.

it was nice, having him around. i found out that the two of us have a lot more in common than i ever could have guessed.

we decided to keep it a secret from nathan and our other bandmate, ben, for the sake of keeping things private. that, and we had no idea how nathan would react.

"whatcha thinkin' about?" chris's voice rang softly, ripping me from my thoughts as he ran a hand through my hair softly.

i smiled softly at him as i shrugged and sighed. "i can't believe you guys want me as a vocalist." i whispered. "i feel like i can hardly sing."

"i'm sure you're great.. don't ever put yourself down." chris immediately reassured, his eyes fixated on me. he hated when i got into self-deprecating moods. which was often.

i sighed and nodded. "would i be singing the lyrics that you've been working on?" i asked softly, looking at chris as he shot me a quick shrug.

"probably. i don't really know. we can figure it out." he whispered, pressing a kiss to my forehead as he sighed and sat up. "it's goin' on three o'clock. i should probably go lay down." he whispered.

i nodded softly as i shot him a quick smile. "sleep well, 'kay?"

chris stood to his feet and stood up, sending me a quick nod and a wave. "you too."

and just as he got to the door, he swung back around on his heel and quickly made his way over to plant a kiss to my forehead.

i reached up to press my hand to the back of his neck, pulling his lips against mine.

as he pulled away, i shot him a smile.

and then he left quietly.

my eyes peeled open at the abrupt sound of drums slamming against one another downstairs.

i rubbed my eyes and slowly rose from my bed, my hair in every possible direction. i didn't care though. what i cared about was the drums playing at fucking 10am.

"what the hell are you guys doing?" i stated loudly, but nothing was loud with the sound of them playing. i stepped a bit closer, where chris finally seemed to notice my presence and stopped playing.

before anyone could notice, he shot me a soft smile.

"oh hey, y/n," nathan stated, his body leaning over to set down the drumsticks.

"why are you guys playing so goddamn early?" i stated firmly, rubbing my eyes.

"we have to practice for our show. it's tomorrow!" nathan stated with a wide smile, making my jaw drop.

"tomorrow!? i was thinking like a week or something?" i sighed as i moved to sit between nathan and chris.

"same here, but most we can do is practice to the best of our ability." ben stated, his eyes averting to the side.

everyone seemed to share a glance. he was being unusual.

"right. well. i'm gonna run inside and get a drink. can i get you guys anything?" i asked softly.

they all shook their heads, except for chris, who begged for a pepsi.

i chuckled and nodded, making my way quickly to the kitchen to go ahead and grab chris and i both a pepsi.

the trip was quick. i tip-toed back into the garage as i wasn't wearing any shoes. "here ya go."

chris smiled warmly at me.

the way his eyes creased as he smiled, the way his teeth poked from his mouth as he bit onto his bottom lip softly and his cheeks grew a soft shade of pink. his hair slightly damp from playing in the warmth of the garage. god, he was stunning. his hand gently grazed mine as he took the pepsi, shooting shocks through my skin.

"thanks," chris stated softly, before turning back to his guitar.

i blinked a few times before i made my way over to my chair again and allowed my eyes to look over everyone, ben's eyes locked on chris.

a few hours had gone by. ben had left, and chris, of course, was spending the night.

his fingers gently grazed the guitar strings as he hummed to himself and played, his eyes glued to his own hand.

he was sitting at the edge of the bed playing quietly and occasionally glancing at me with a soft smile, where i couldn't help but sit and admire him from where i was. "how long have you been playing guitar?" i spoke up, sitting up slightly.

"mmm. since like junior high. i dabbled and got more interested as time went on." he smiled at the thought as he remembered playing a lot more back in high school.

i nodded as i listened and hummed softly. "you're really good."

"thanks."

"mhm."

we sat in silence for a few moments before chris moved to set the guitar down. carefully, he crawled towards me and rested his head against my chest, his body between my legs.

"i hope that once the stress dies down, we can tell your brother about us." he stated softly.

a warm smile appeared on my lips as i nodded softly and sighed contently as i moved a hand to brush through his curly, brunette locks. "i agree."

"i like you a lot." chris admitted softly.

i couldn't see his face from the position we were in, but i could see his ears growing red. i chuckled softly as i wrapped my arms gently around his head and pulled him infinitely closer to me. "i like you too."

we sat in a comfortable silence, my eyes locked on the ceiling with a soft smile until i felt chris's breathing slow to a rhythmic, peaceful pace. i smiled to myself as i continued to caress his hair gently.

and for a few hours, i let him sleep there in my arms.

nathan's tongue stuck out from between his lips in focus as he set up his drumset on the stage.

i, on the other hand, stood awkwardly. "can i help at all?"

"i think we got it," nathan would quickly reply.

the guys were setting up for their show today. they had practiced a lot yesterday and a bit before they began packing things up today.

my eyes couldn't leave chris. he looked great today. like every day. damn.

one of the managers of the event they were performing at stepped onto the stage, eyes glued to a watch on his wrist. "alright guys, doors open in fifteen. we lookin' good?"

everyone shot up, their eyes looking at the man before exchanging glances and nodding. "yeah, we should be good in just a few minutes," ben stated.

i shifted to move backstage. nathan ran off to the restroom with chris, and.. i'm not really sure where ben went.

"hey, y/n?"

i turned my head to the side and met eyes with the bassist, blinking a few times. "oh, hey ben. are you pumped for your show?"

he gave me a half smile before he stepped closer to me.

"hey, i really wanted to talk with you about something."

i looked at ben for a moment and swallowed. i nodded softly. please don't ask me for life advice. not really my thing.

"look, i think i really like you, i think you're gorgeous and-"

what the fuck?

my eyes widened as i attempted to regain composure. "ben, i don't think-"

"i'd really like to take you on a date. i know your brother is my friend and stuff, but-"

i lifted my hands to hold in front of me in defense as i felt my stomach turn. "ben, i don't-"

"would you consider?" he stated softly.

we sat in silence as i stared at him.

well this is awkward.

"i don't... really feel the same way."

i watched ben's shoulders slump.

"sorry." i quickly apologized. "i- uhh. you'll do great tonight-" i stated quickly before retreating to nathan and chris who had just returned from the restroom.

chris furrowed his eyebrows at me as i literally walked right behind him and stood there. he could tell something had happened, but decided to ask me later.

nathan, on the other hand, was so pumped.

"guys, we're gonna destroy this tonight!!" he stated quickly, giving everyone a fist bump. "y/n, cheer so hard from over here!" he smiled widely, and i nodded eagerly.

"i will, don't worry!"

as a few minutes went by, the boys got called to get ready to get on stage.

i wished them luck, and bit my lip as i watched them step out, some cheers heard from outside to hype them up.

what the hell just happened??

p4 ⚜ masterlist ⚜ p6

taglist;; @sturnsxplr-25 @vampiree-555 @wh0resstuff @jetaimevous @sturnioloshacker @nickgetsmewetter @matthewsturniolosgirlfriend101 @chrissgirlsstuff @nsjsnshey @sturniolosarethebest @sofie-1 @sturniololol @veysxrge @587528382527 @sturniolostars @larnieboox88 @eliana-4200 @fratbrochrisgf @sturniolostars @chrisgetsmewet @55sturn

[ma1dita]

'en route' - i. imaginary friend

pictures are not mine, 3rd is a photo concept by @geloyconcepcion on ig

read along here (will update) : part ii, part iii, part iv

song of the chapter: revolution 0 by boygenius

en route playlist: here

words: 3.9k

summary: pt ¼ of ‘en route’. You and James are kindred spirits. Fighting in the First Wizarding War just seems to be your only escape.

warnings: no use of y/n, religious iconography sprinkled here and there, depictions of loss/war, angst, unhappy(?) marriage, fake marriage, twin flames vibe, they’re just kids they should be at the club bro

a/n: setting the scene is always so hard LOL. i love writing morally grey characters, please feel free to comment if you want to be added onto the taglist, or scream at me <3 thanks for the patience, you won’t have to wait as long for the next part lol

(posted 12/28/23, might come back to edit)

—

END OF MARCH 1980

There’s not a lot of things you like to remember about the year 1980. The memories blur together, highly repressed in a busy corner of your mind, and if someone held you at wandpoint to ask about what happened, you’re not sure where to begin. You don’t talk about it much anymore, but if you did, it wouldn’t be sufficient to put it in a few simple words.

And maybe if you did, the remembering wouldn’t hurt as much. With little physical things to hang onto, however—holding onto this hurt reminds you it was real.

From what you can remember anyway, it all started on his birthday.

You felt eyes on you as soon as you stormed into the room. In this congregation of people trying to save the world, it was easy to feel unseen in your struggles to keep moving forward. A pair of kaleidoscope eyes meet yours for a small moment, and that’s when you knew it was risky. It’s easy to hide in a crowd of Aurors enjoying the reprieve from the reality of the world outside of headquarters’ protected doors, fading into the background.

But he saw you, and that was terrifying–to be perceived.

Frank Longbottom pours you a pint, and you nod your head in thanks, taking a long sip before settling down into a chair at the bar. The same pair of eyes see through you, past your hunched frame, down to the core of your grief. Something about it resonates with him deeply, and the boys notice his attention is away from the conversation they’re having in the living room.

“She's pretty, yeah? French, I think. Never says more than a few words to anyone though, I tried. All business,” Sirius mumbles to his best friend over a glass of firewhiskey.

James looks up at Sirius from his position in the armchair, his head tilted to one side in curiosity at the way you fold into yourself.

"Yeah, I guess," James replies reluctantly. "I've never properly spoken to her, but I can tell she's very... mellow."

“Heard she lost people. The war hasn't been kind to her like it has to a lot of us. Don't know if she'll budge, Prongs. Some pages are best left unturned,” Remus says, shuffling a deck of cards between his scarred fingers. Sirius grunts in response, not caring for the conversation as he takes another sip of his drink.

James knows now what he recognizes within you. Grief has been looming over him too, latched onto his spine, weighing him down as the responsibilities grow by the day. His eyes flicker to his wife’s baby bump as she stands near the window laughing at something Marlene and Peter were acting out. Lily falling pregnant was his sign to get his shit together, because if he didn’t, who would?

Like a shadow, you shy away from the light and laughter that fills the room. But there was no escape once he started walking in your direction. There was no grandiose introduction, no heart-stopping, earth-shattering moment. Both consumed by grief unseen by most, two people sat at the bar in silent reverence of each other’s breathing, daring the other to say something.

“Didn’t know I was crashing your birthday Potter. Seems I don't have a gift,” you say suddenly, words rushing out as your eyes trace his profile.

A beat passes.

His head bobs up and for a second you think you’ve said the wrong thing until you realize he’s smiling. He looks up grinning like the devil, eyes meeting yours with a smile you could only describe as radiant. It stirs something deep within you, and you watch your hands reach toward your butterbeer to avoid his searing gaze.

“Terrible time to have a party anyway. I think it’s more for them than it is for me.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you scoff lightly, and his head jerks towards you as you continue, “You’re a bit too happy for my liking.”

“Oh?” His body turns to follow, knees bumping against yours under the bartop.

“How come you know so much about me then? You don’t give any of us a chance with you.”

James says this jokingly, but a part of it rings true like a punch in the gut. You were so impressionable, left soft and malleable by the grief that became you that you found it quite infuriating that someone like him could be so happy in the middle of a war like this one.

A noise of acknowledgement leaves your throat and he watches your fingers clench around the glass. Too much? Change the subject.

“What’s the ‘T’ necklace you have on?”

The chain swings against your chest as you adjust yourself on the barstool, becoming aware of the weight of it.

“What?”

“What does it mean? Must be important to you, whoever this fellow is. See you wear it every day,” he says adamantly, before backtracking and realizing how stalkerish that sounds.

“Potter, have you never met a Christian?” Your eyes dart between him and his hands on the bartop, more glaringly, the platinum wedding band on his left hand. Surely, anything should be more interesting than conversing with a stranger at his own party.

“A who? Who’s Christian? Are you?”

The beginning of a smile breaks onto your face like daybreak. It’s refreshing, he thinks. He doesn’t think he’s made someone smile like that in a while.

“You idi–,” you exhale, “It’s not… Muggles don’t have magic like us, so they have belief systems. Higher power they believe in. Weren’t you Head Boy at Hogwarts, how did you pass Muggle Studies?”

“Elective. Do you believe in that stuff? God and what not?”

Your calf brushes his pant leg accidentally. Why can’t you stop fidgeting? He makes you nervous, all these questions, and then you blurt your response out in rapid succession that he’s almost unable to catch it.

“No. Maybe. My parents did, and God was important to them, so I wear this necklace because of it. They’re important to me. I used to before I found out I was a witch. Used to pray that God would save me, make me something other than mundane—well, here I am now. Not quite sure if he heard me.”

It hits you that the last time you’ve been able to speak about your parents like this was at their funeral two months back. Right before you joined the Order, and sitting here in front of James suddenly feels stifling. You roll your jacket sleeves up, hyperaware that he’s watching your every move.

He keeps his tone light, but the smile on his face is kind as he mutters, “You think some bloke up top is calling all the shots for everyone?” James says this without judgment and your breath quivers.

“I don’t know, but I think things happen for a reason. I’m still trying to find out what that exactly is.”

His pinky nudges yours on the sticky bartop, and his glasses slide down the bridge of his nose as he tilts his head in thought.

“Did. Is the believing past tense?”

You’re not sure what’s changed in the past few minutes that’s made you comfortable in his presence, but you crack a joke before you think too hard.

“My parents are. Past tense.”

Laughter spills out of you like the bubbles on your refilled pint glass, and James scrunches his face, holding back until his shoulders are shaking from the effort.

“Merlin….yeah. Mine too.”

Oh.

You look at him through your eyelashes, silence filling the space between you two as the rest of the party goes on in the background. James clinks his glass with yours, and there’s a silent understanding that bridges between you, connecting you together.

—

END OF APRIL 1980

“You know if we’re gonna be friends, you should probably call me James.”

The two of you were left sitting in the den to deliberate on the mission you were being sent at the end of this week. Three whole months with James Potter could be a nightmare. But it could also be quite fun, you think, watching him flick through the mission files with a quirk in his lip that can only signal mischief. Signing away your life wouldn’t be so bad if you had him to keep you company. You’d never tell him that though.

“Will we be? You don’t seem that excited.”

“Excited to be shipped away from everyone we know is definitely a statement, love.”

“I’m not eager if that’s what you’re insinuating. Just feel obligated, especially if it helps the cause. That’s why you’re here, right?” Right. In a war like this one, ordinary people like you and him pay the highest price. But nothing seemed ordinary about you, like a complex puzzle he was constantly wracking his brain to figure out. There are aspects of your personality that come to light the more he talks to you over these past few weeks, almost luring him in so he can unveil the secrets you hold. Why do you put yourself on the front lines like this, mission after mission? Who do you have in your life that makes you want to fight against the odds? What do you think of to keep you going? Why can’t he stop thinking about you?

He blinks, before looking at you, “S’not that I don’t want to go with you, and do my duty, I just…”

“You love it. I can see it in your eyes, you were trouble at school, weren’t you?” James’ smile gets wider, thinking back to the last few years, before everything went to shit. Back when it was easier, just him and his three friends, and his biggest worry was getting Lily Evans to look at him.

“Just a lot to worry about. People to take care of.” His mind falls back to his wife sitting at home, probably wondering why he isn’t back from the Order meeting, getting more agitated by the minute. He thinks of the nursery he still needs to set up, and the legal affairs he’s left behind after his parents’ death. He thinks of checking in on his boys, who barely know how to take care of themselves if they don’t come over for dinner, and finally, he exhales.

“You?“

It’s an honest question, and by asking it, he extends himself to you, an insight into the burdens he carries with him daily. The difficulty and complexity of having a large capacity to love is carrying the weight until you cannot.

“Just me and my rucksack. Gives me something to do.” You give him a tight-lipped smile, busying yourself with packing the supplies Dumbledore gave you two earlier. Vials of Polyjuice Potion, two golden wedding bands, magically enhanced IDs— it was like playing pretend. That’s all this has to be. Easy enough.

James looks at you and understands a bit more. You need this job. And if he’s being honest, so does he.

“I still wonder what would happen if it doesn’t work out, don’t get me wrong. But then I think, what if it does? What if no one else has to die?” A noise of agreement rises from his throat as he straightens his posture on the couch.

War shouldn’t be an escape, much less a distraction to two people grieving. There are countless muggles and wizards alike losing their lives to a genocide of people undeserving of a fate dictated by a person who plays god. But when you’re fighting for your life before you can even legally drink in some countries, there are two things left to consider when making a decision: to choose something difficult or to choose wrong.

And neither of you have ever found anything easy. Not in this life at least.

He sighs. James really needs to get home.

“Well…We will be friends by the end of this. I’m sure. Already gonna be married to you anyways,” he jokes.

“Don’t get used to it, what a pity that would be for your ego,” you gripe, but a trace of amusement is present on your lips as you watch him stand up to leave.

“We’ll see about that, love.”

He apparates home. Onto the next difficult thing.

When James told Lily that he’d be on a mission for the latter half of her pregnancy, she didn’t take it well. But to be honest, with everything going on, James couldn’t help but feel exasperated. How bad is his marriage that he’d rather risk his life instead of tending to his family’s needs? James sits at the dining table listening to her yell, and he feels extra heavy today, wondering how he feels so ancient at 20 years old.

Years ago he dreamed of this, a wife, kids, a pretty townhouse. But this isn’t what he quite imagined. He looks at his wife as she paces around the room, hand on her bump, red hair spreading little fires as she goes. She’s his everything. Truly. He spent years trying to even find that spark in her, dedicated his life to her, and gave up everything to take care of her—but she struggled a lot these past few months. Her pregnancy brought on incendiary words falling upon him like lashes as she blamed him for moving too quickly. Blamed him for the fact they’ve felt like strangers in this little house. But with his parents both sick, getting married seemed like the next right thing.

An owl flits to his kitchen window once Lily storms out again, leaving nothing but ashes of her disappointment in her wake. Ashes, ashes… James wonders where his spark has gone. He hates to disappoint.

Just wanted to owl and check in. I found myself thinking about you and wanted to make sure you’re okay, with everything changing so quickly. Hope you and your wife figure it out, I’ll be on the 11 AM Knight Bus tomorrow outside Diagon Alley regardless. See you.

He thinks of you, so brave and filled with a spark he used to recognize within himself. This isn’t wrong, he reasons, just difficult. But he won’t admit that taking his wedding band off before settling onto the couch was easier than he thought it would be. He feels lighter. As he takes off his glasses and stares at the ceiling of his living room that night, James wonders how much longer he can ignore his problems by not looking at them properly. How much longer does he have to carry the weight? When will someone help him carry the load?

For now, he tries to sleep. One step at a time, James. Like always. There’s a mission he has to start tomorrow. And he doesn’t want to disappoint you.

—

You’re not surprised when he turns up to your meeting point the next morning, not addressing him when you stick your wand hand out to summon the bus. He bites back a smile, knowing you were right and thinking you see right through him. Now look who’s the eager one.

After paying eleven sickles each, you lead him to a window seat, ignoring the babbles of other passengers as you look out the window.

“You ever think about all these people, with their little lives and everything they have to do?” you pipe up, head against the glass. James scoffs, “I always think about other people. Sometimes I wonder if anyone thinks of me like that. If anyone worries as you do over strangers.”

“I thought we were friends,” you say coyly, still not looking at him, and his heart skips a beat. Probably nerves. “You think Dumbledore cares that he’s sending off two teenagers to fight a war and save the wizarding world?”

“I’m an adult, thank you very much.”

“We’re kids, James,” You look at him, and he blinks at the sound of his given name falling from your lips that he almost loses the next part of your sentence, “we’re kids working towards a bigger picture of world peace. Isn’t that fucking insane that this what our lives amount to?”

He couldn’t agree more, but his forehead creases at your tone.

“Why do you act like your best years are behind you? There’s a lot to live for still,” he murmurs knowingly.

He pats your thigh and the only thing you notice is the tan of his hand against his missing wedding band. Soon it will be replaced by one that binds him to you, temporarily, but it’s jarring all the same. You shake off the uneasy feeling that rises in your stomach.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

James is doing that thing again, the whole savior complex bit that you notice is one and the same with his trying hard to be carefree personality. But you’re coming to learn that James cares. A lot.

—

“Apartment 11B?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Two swigs of Polyjuice Potion did the job once you stepped off the bus and walked through town to the place you’ll inhabit for a fourth of the year, and quickly, you both become unrecognizable to even each other. A blonde eyebrow looks at you under James’ glasses at your hesitation, so you clear your throat.

“For Mr. and Mrs. Fawley. We just got married, you see. Newlywed jitters.” His voice is lighter and more posh as his hand reaches out to rest on your shoulder.

“Hmm, yes. Harry—er…Henrietta and Draco–” the receptionist squints at her paper, and you sigh at how pretentious the names sound together. Not in this life. You ought to wring Alice’s neck. That girl loves to make stories, and the more frilly your personas she created, the more difficult it’ll be to upkeep.

“No need, Etta and Drake are fine, love,” you say with a more confident grin, leaning against your faux husband.

The keys slide across the countertop, and you walk to the elevator, hand in hand until you’re out of sight. As you approach the door, James crouches a bit and puts his hands on his knees.

“What are you doing?”

“Jump up. Gotta carry you over the threshold.”

“Shut up, Drake,” reminding yourself to use his false name in case someone’s watching, but he looks at you with a shit-eating grin.

“Exactly. Just in case. Come on, just indulge me.” You shake your head in disbelief but hop onto his back all the same. Not exactly traditional, but it stirs up a feeling in you that you haven’t felt before. He carries you through the doorway and spins you once, twice, three times before you squeal and he giggles, placing you gently onto the sofa. It’s a cozy apartment with enough space for the two of you, cream walls, and a small kitchen with an island overlooking the entertaining space. The hallway leads to what you presume is the only bedroom, and there’s a nervous energy that sifts through the air as you both place protective charms everywhere, to ward off prying eyes and ears. How intimate. James falls back onto the sofa with a huff, sitting next to you, and both of you are unsure of what to say.

“I can take the sofa,” he says into the silence, and you turn to look at him incredulously.

‘For three months? James, I can't ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

“You’re gonna be hunched over by the end of the week. What if we rotate?”

There’s no disagreement, feeling the springs in the cushion beneath your bottoms already. James perks up, leaning over to grab something from his bag, and by the time he leans back up, he looks like himself again, the small dose of Polyjuice wearing off. You can feel your hair go back to its original shade and texture, and he smiles wider when he sees your face.

“Look what I got. Remus gave it to me back at Hogwarts but I never really used up all the film. Thought we could take some pictures and look back on this one day.” It’s sweet, how he loves his friends like they’re an extension of himself. You reckon you don't have anyone like that, smiling at him fumbling with the tiny camera in his hands.

“It’ll take a while to develop. Gotta keep it safe if we’re making it out of this,” you say, taking it from him and throwing yourself back onto the backrest leaning against him to point and shoot one of yourselves in this moment, disheveled and domestic. The flash goes off and he looks like a deer in headlights, making you cackle.

“You miss them?” He’s not sure who you’re referring to, so he rattles on anyway. He loves talking about the people he loves.

“The boys…Just miss being kids at Hogwarts, y’know? The end of the world back then was not getting enough O’s on NEWTs. You?”

“Mhm. None of them are in Britain though. They came for my parents’ funeral, and they always say they’ll visit but…That’s my fault too, I guess.” You tuck your leg underneath you, turning to face him, and he’s cuddled up against a throw pillow.

“Your parents were awesome. Didn’t know them well besides your dad being in the Order and stuff, but they were really brave. Your mom hugged me at my parents’ burial and I think that was the first time I let myself cry after they died. That’s one of the few things I remember from that day.”

A breath of air escapes your lungs at his anecdote. It’s been a few months since they passed but you’ll never stop missing them.

“I don’t remember a lot from theirs either. It’s all kind of been a blur since. I think I remember you and Sirius smoking in the back and him offering me a cigarette.” He laughs silently at the memory of his best friend.

“No one ever talks about how much there is to do after your parents die,” he says, and you roar with agreement.

“Yes! I’m still battling out their assets in court! It’s difficult to live life alone, thinking they’ve set you up for the future, but feeling like a rug’s been pulled out from underneath you. I just wish…They left this world together, y’know? And that’s great, but sometimes I feel selfish wondering what will happen to me.”

James nods slowly, taking your words in. He’s never had anyone to talk about this with, people pitying him instead, or acting like it didn’t matter, but it’s been almost a year and he can’t go to bed without thinking about how his parents died a week apart because even in death, they couldn’t be away for long. James wonders if you’ve noticed that he hasn’t talked about missing his wife, and the selfishness you mentioned prods at him. He smiles grimly, and takes the ring box from your bag, asking for your hand.

“Hey. You’re never gonna be alone again, alright? Not if it’s up to me.”

You roll your eyes as he flips the cover open, revealing the two gold bands, yours with a sizable diamond in the center.

“Do you think I’d give you that much power over me, James? This is all fake.”

“Fake marriage, but a true promise. I think you might, eventually.”

He slides the ring onto your left ring finger, sealing it with a gentle kiss on the back of your hand.

—

“The first time you caught my eye it was not love at first sight. Instead, a quiet curiosity was planted in my chest and I knew it was only a matter of time before you sunk beneath my bones and nurtured this deep-seated familiarity into a love so fierce that I would question if I had ever been in love before.” - Lyra Wren

general taglist: @jsjcue

en route taglist: @xcinnamonmalfoyx @babyclea @idkman5335 @timhalamet @ttulipwritezz @lilylovesu @thatonedogwithablog @lovemerigt

[tremendum]

be like me [v]

trust

pairing: din djarin x fem!reader (afab, use of she/her) rating: explicit for violence and sexual themes.  (18+. mdni.) word count: 7.4k summary:   there are few things in this galaxy that made Mando want to run, and you were one of them. because he is starting to see himself in you, and you in him.  warnings: canon-typical violence, graphic depictions of violence, blood, and injury, reader gets injured, reader gets verbally sexually assaulted, slimy gross men, mentions of sexual themes, minor character death, attempted kidnapping lol, use of one Bacta shot so needles, lots of fluff like tooth rotting pining notes:  here’s part 5! thanks for all the love, it makes me smile to see all the feedback ive been getting!! this chapter is kicking things up in the storyline a bit more, and ramping up to the next chapter! i hope yall enjoy, and as always feedback/reblogs/likes are v much appreciated!  also let me know if your tag didnt work/if i missed u it got a little weird lol. 

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★  

your stay on Valara soured quicker than Eopie milk the moment your bounty was sealed into carbonite. 

the moment he'd fastened off the bounty to his frozen fate, Mando was as silent as the day you'd met. you could feel the anger brewing beneath his armor, festering and boiling as you stand on doe-legs; your jaw clenches in anxiety as you watch him storm past you, helmet not so much as tilting in your direction as he slams his hand against the hydraulics to open the entrance to the Crest.  "Mando, where are you going?" you ask, voice strong despite its retirement from the last forty-five minutes. 

a helmet whips over to even with you, as if just remembering your presence. "I need to get more information about where the drop was. it was weeks ago, Zuca could be anywhere by now." 

"okay, well-" you know you should mention whatever just happened, or maybe you shouldn't - you don't know what to do, Maker, everything happened so quick; your heart hasn't calmed down, you can feel his proximity still on your skin, his hand on your hip, the burning hand over your mouth... his thick thigh with its beskar casing against your aching cunt. every step you take is a reminder of the slick between your thighs, the absence of an orgasm leaving you foggy-brained and erratic. you shiver, a mixture between desire and fear - there's a bounty on your head. yours. and with your face in the galactic system and your Mandalorian shadow, almost anyone could find you. 

"no. stay here." he commands it. you barely move your mouth to speak before he's pointing at you sternly, "don't try to argue. it's not safe." 

you know he's right, but you furrow your brows, "exactly, which is why we should be leaving." you glare. is there even a brain behind that tin helmet? your chest heaves with a vicious rage; maybe it's your newfound freedom, or perhaps its something entirely different inside of you. but there's a clear change, you can feel it. you've felt it in the last few weeks. 

you're just so angry all the time - full of rage, full of the red hot desire for revenge that keeps guiding your mouth and hands before your brain can even consider the options. 

"were you not just in the same bathroom as I was?" Mando snaps, voice angry as he points out of the Crest towards the direction of town, "I know you heard what they said in there. they'll be looking for you. I need to protect the the kid, and it's a lot easier to get things done when I'm not also dealing with you." his voice is his regular, deep rumble, but it's angry and laced with something you can't recognize. 

you have to fight the flustered feelings in your chest at his mention of the bathroom from the cantina, but as he finishes his sentence, anger flares ruthlessly in your chest as you take a step forward, fists tightening. 

weeks ago, had any of this happened, you'd have cowered, sat back, just let it happen. you'd have simply closed your eyes with a deep breath and dreamt of the day where you find your family; now, you're boiling over, the anger making you wish you could snap his neck; put a laser straight through his stupid kriffing helmet visor. 

"do you really think they'll be anywhere other than the outpost? Batuu is not that big, you told me that yourself." you take staggering breaths to calm yourself, confused as to why he wasn't listening. "for someone who hunts bounty for a living, you sure aren't trying very hard to catch it." 

Mando takes a menacing step forward, closer to you. "I'm trying to keep you alive. which, if you can't tell, is not the easiest thing." 

you're seeing red. "well, sorry if I'm not more grateful. you're only keeping me alive to use as insurance for your precious credits." you spit, the words feeling foreign on your tongue; "collateral, right, Mandalorian? some bounty hunter you are." you shouldn't be insulting his profession, but there's nothing that can stop the rage that boils within you. every second you stay on this moon is one less second you'll have with your family. 

you turn away, intending to storm up into the ship's body and away from the infuriating man. but his words that follow just ignite the flames even more, "you don't know the first thing about hunting." 

"then TEACH ME!" you all but scream, turning around again, irritation boiling over and spilling through your voice. you feel strong emotions hitting your eyes at your mention of collateral: yes, at first it'd seemed like this was true, but recently it'd felt, perhaps, as though he'd kept you around because he liked your company. it just made it all the more painful as he grumbles out his next words, the wind of the night breeze ruffling his cape gently. 

"i tried. but a few weeks out of the nest and you suddenly think you're invincible." his voice is maliciously sarcastic, full of spite. it twists the blade of his words deep inside of you, corkscrewing viciously as you take a sharp breath. 

"out of the nest?!" you snarl, wheeling back around towards him. how dare he make it sound like you were just some sweet little innocent girl who stumbled too far away from home - how dare he insinuate anything about your life before him? "are you kidding?" you're shocked, overwhelmed with the emotions that swirl in your gut, a sour taste in your mouth. 

the two of you are like bombs. lighting each other's fuse and then dousing each other in kerosene, just to see who blows first. it was a fire lit the moment you'd stepped into that stall in the cantina; he'd coaxed feelings out of you that you'd never even imagined before... you shudder. you don't understand why it's gotten so bad recently, why you're so frustrated - but he's been just as bad. 

despite yourself, a tear of frustration slides down your cheek. quickly you whip it away, holding your ground as Mando crosses his arms, "you know-"  "-no, stop it!" you interject. your fingers wish to throw something at him, kick him - or hit him without breaking your fist. "fuck, Mando," you feel your eyes well up with emotion as you throw your worst look his way. "you've never trusted me. I know Zuca and the Ark'uz'iman. did you ever consider that I might have some good insight for you?" 

it's quiet, and in the silence you can't held but shake your head, the anger simmering back down as you stare in wait. but it's Mando, and he's never been one to apologize. something in you deflates. you don't know why you ever allowed yourself to get your hopes up about him. 

he's a weapon. a killer. he could never care for you. 

Mando takes a breath. "fine, we'll go to Batuu. but I taught you how to wield a blaster," he shoves the hilt of it into your chest harshly, as he moves towards the ladder of the hull, "so you better use it this time." 

you glare at the back of his head as he walks away. 

--

Batuu's outpost is as deteriorated as your spirits when you and Mando trudged into town. 

the rain leaks through the rafters that cover the market and dribbles down onto the cobblestone, the quiet bustling of the natives hushed and calm. lanterns are strung up above your heads, twinkling and reflecting onto the wet stone as though they were little stars. the market must have once been fruitful, lively - but it's now riddled with hushed whispers, empty vendor kiosks, Batuuian rats, and old stains of mysterious maroon splatters. 

"look." Mando says stiffly, nodding up towards a rickety sign that swings in the rain; you have to fight the downpour to look up even through the partial cover of shelter. there's the insignia of the very syndicate you'd been tethered to for years, sitting plainly on a rusted metal, brazen and in the open. a huff escapes your lips, dry and unimpressed: it's insulting how little they tried to hide themselves in this outpost. 

"subtle." you mutter to yourself, shaking your head. Ark'uz'iman was once strong, but in the years since the fall of the Empire, it'd also fallen from its grace; there was nobody to hold guard in the entrance to the building at all as you follow Mando through the alleyway and duck into the small hall that leads into the building. 

your fingers are tight around the blaster at your thigh, swallowing back the warmth of your throat when Mando mutters, "stay close to me." 

you roll your eyes, about to mutter something witty back before he stops in his tracks, coming upon a large room that holds crates of galactic goods; your eyes graze over the weapons stacked in the crates, strewn between canned bantha meat and other smuggled delicacies. 

there are voices in the room, too. they're subtle, quiet, and you have to strain yourself to hear them. "there's six of them." Mando says quietly, and your brows barely furrow before you remember he's got heat sensors in his helmet. 

your throat goes dry at the thought of him using his heat sensors - has he done it around you? could he tell how weak he made you between your legs when he so much as spoke to you? 

you shake out of it as he motions for you to follow him, his helm poking over to corner briefly before turning back to you, "none of them are Zuca. they're all wearing green." 

you nod, not surprised. you doubt he'd still be here, after all. he's probably out in another planet, indulging in whatever sins he can get his hands on. or, perhaps, he's out there somewhere looking for you too. 

"the green jackets are for smugglers. none of them will know where he is." you whisper back, but a call from the room makes your head whip back, "hey!" 

as if on command, Mando whips around the wall and starts shooting; you're frozen for a second, the fear gripping you like a vice - you'd never really fought someone yet besides Mando; and you know that no matter how much he denies it, he goes easy on you. 

but these people are unforgivable; the scum of the galaxy, fueling hate and agony and danger and despair. 

the thought alone springs you into action, sliding yourself around in order to latch your sight onto one of the men in the room shooting at Mando; your first shot bounces off the wall and explodes a crate of jargon fruit cans. 

gritting your teeth, your face heats in embarrassment, dodging a shot that singes a few strands of your hair. your next shot in return hits the wall but then reflexes into the man's back, sending him yelling to the ground. he's out in an instant, your arm buzzes as your chest constricts - you just took someone's life. 

a grunt of pain snaps you out of it again as Mando's arm jerks back, a shot taking a rip out of his flight suit at the elbow. you don't hesitate as your blaster's triggered, hitting Mando's shooter right in the chest. 

the one to your left starts to charge towards you, catching you off guard as you shoot at the one near Mando. his arms are strong as they grab you, lifting you off the ground. panic floods through you at the feeling of his arms on you and you let out a scream, groaning as your breath leaves you.

you try to jab backwards towards the man's chest, but he lifts you and pulls back, effectively pushing hard into your chest cavity, a sickening crack following a searing pain that blossoms in your ribs. you let out a strangled, pained yelp, struggling to breath as the pain spreads, licking your throat, your stomach, your arms. the room smells like smoke and blaster residue, the other man shooting at Mando and lighting the room up with blaster red as the shots ricochet off of his beskar. you're panicking as you struggle in the man's arms - you can't suck in a breath, it hurts, so bad-  (you have to remember to breathe, cyar'ika.)

in a split second, you suck in a sharp inhale before slamming your heel down hard against the man's foot, the cracking noise sickening against your ragged breath. there's a chink in his hold as he reels from the pain and you kick back again, hitting his shin this time. it's a good thing this man wasn't wearing the beskar you'd grown accustomed to fighting against. 

you fall away from him, sliding towards Mando's legs as you roll, protecting your side as much as you can. you grab your blaster as you slide, and when you stand, the man who'd held you is crumpled on the ground with a shot through his forehead. your chest throbs along with your heartbeat, the pain making your vision swerve for a moment. you gasp to catch your breath, each shallow gulp ringing pain down your side. 

the last one standing raises his blaster; but as your eyes take in his face, the excersized flush drains from your face. 

you recognize him instantly. "Vros." your voice is strong and cuts through the droplets of water that trickle down the gutters outside. just when he looks at you, you pull the trigger, barely adjusting your aim. 

instead of hitting his chest, his own pistol flies from his grasp; he lets out a strangled yell of pain as he clutches his hand, the smoke rising calmly from the wound in his palm. Mando kicks back the pistol as it skitters towards you both and you tuck it into your waistband. 

Vros. one of Zuca's subalterns; he'd been based at Csilla's quarters for years with you, one of the largest confidants of your boss and certainly one of the most disgusting men you've ever known. shivers run down your spine, but you're shocked when you search for the fear you know would be instilled in you, instead coming up with red, hot anger. 

Mando's blaster is aimed at Vros's icy blue head as the man's eyes land on you. 

"oh, my my." Vros nods his head as his eyes take in your figure, "so what they say is true." 

you don't say anything, your heart thundering as your hand squeezes the pistol. Mando is unmoving beside you, a statue of cold resilience, of patience - he was letting you take the reins. 

at your silence, Vros grins, gesturing to you as if beckoning a lover. "i've missed you, pretty girl. i was wondering if you'd really left Csilla." he coos, and it's slimy as it slicks through his mouth. you feel sick. 

"where is he?" you grit your teeth. all you see in your mind is a blaster shot between the eyes of Zuca. 

"he's heartbroken." he chides, tsk-ing as he shakes his head, "he's been searching for you. he's going out to your old stomping grounds, you know." his eyes glint maliciously. 

your eyes widen; Zuca? on your home planet? your heart strikes cold with fear: he knows where your family is; what if he hurts them? is he going to use them as collateral for you? 

your heart flutters with yearning, desire... something else. you resist the urge to look up at Mando, yet you're still comforted by his warmth, the proximity of your two bodies. your stomach twists as you realize the burning smell is coming from Mando's arm wound, just to your right. 

"what planet?" you push, your pistol almost shaking with the anger that flows through your veins. but it's like you aren't saying anything, the way his eyes move over you, a grin on his face. 

"you clean up nicely, don't you? you want to come home with me tonight, girl?" he smirks at you, eyes dark. but you don't cower; no, you fume.  "Vros, where the fuck is he?" you ask evenly, hand leveled with the pistol down the barrel of his nose. 

but you're ignored, as always. Vros's eyes widen in understanding at his one-sided conversation. "oh, so you're... you're his. i see." his eyes flicker from you to Mando's looming figure. something sour swirls in your gut. "let me have her for a few hours, at least?" he smirks as he boldly asks Mando. Vros's words make you grit your teeth; want to squeeze his neck until it snaps. 

at Vros' prompting, Mando takes a step forward, concealing half of your figure. pressing forward, Mando's weapon threatens the man's skin with unwavering calmness. you can feel the anger that swirls up around Mando in plumes as he nearly growls, "where is Zuca?" 

but Vros still doesn't even bat an eye, instead craning his neck to catch a glimpse of you yet again from behind the concealment of Mando's wide body. "are you sure, Mando?" he looks to him, "I'd pay you handsomely for 'er. girls that look like her are worth hundreds of credits, even after i'm done with them-" 

and then there's a loud sound, an echo of a blaster shot and a moment of a scream; then it's quiet, the breeze running cold through your veins. 

Vros lays, lifeless, on the ground. Mando's blaster is smoking slightly as he lowers his arm - you can't tear your eyes away from the sickly smirk on Vros' lifeless body; the smile etched onto his blue face forever, grinning up at the stars. 

you blink, deflating. 

"you killed him." you state dumbly, anger starting to bubble up again in your chest. you look up at him as he turns to you, "why did you kriffing shoot him, Mando?" you yelp. he knew where Zuca was. he may have been your only chance. 

it's silent for a moment, the anger radiating off of you both and onto each other. something in you twists as you swear you can see a glint from behind the mask. 

"he wasn't going to tell us any more than he already had," he says simply. "he was spewing nonsense." 

you swallow dryly. that's for sure. 

your hands shake, the adrenaline of the fresh blood on your hands and your aching ribs causing tremors throughout your body. it doesn't go unnoticed by Mando. he says your name.

"are you okay?" he asks, hands jerking towards you before hesitating, hovering in the air awkwardly. they drop as quickly as they reached out, and it leaves you feeling colder than before. 

you swallow the bile that sits heavy in your throat, pressing your lips together slightly before nodding, not trusting your voice. you drop to your knees to avoid his stare, unable to look at that pitying feeling emanating from his mask. it makes you squirm. 

you rifle through Vros's dead body, trying to even your stuttering breaths as the pain throbs through you as you pull miscellaneous items out in search for anything that could hint as to where your home planet is. there's a fob in his pocket that you pull out quickly, pocketing the credits alongside it. Mando's staring at you, and you stare back, "what? it can't hurt to have some extra pocket money." you defend. 

"show me that." he says, palm out stretched towards you and the fob you hold. you simply place it in his hand, standing back up to your full height to examine it with him. 

there's an etched few symbols that you recognize faintly in your mind; it's associated with lights, a festival - your home. "this is- this is from my home." you say, surprised at the void in your voice where affection and yearning should be. 

Mando looks at you, "how are you sure?" 

you swallow. "i'm not." you admit honestly, the vulnerability leaking through your features, gnawing on your lip. this isn't the first time you've wondered if he's annoyed with the burden of your amnesia, but you realize now that the sweet sting of knowing it'd be so much easier if Zuca had never taken those memories from you is no longer just yours to bear. somehow, it almost makes you feel better despite the guilt that Mando can carry some of this weight alongside you. if he chooses. 

the fob turns over in his orange-tipped gloves. the leather is cracked, and the fabric is covered in jet grease, blaster residue, and a blue smudge that looks suspiciously like the Kid's breakfast. his flight suit is a dark, deep brown, creased from a lifetime of work; your eyes trail up slowly until they land on the wound that has cauterized but is red and angry nonetheless. a strike in your stomach pangs you: you were so fond of him... you almost flush in embarrassment. 

"-we still have some bacta in the Crest, right?" you say then, eyes not moving from where they observe his arm. your ribs are sharp as you take a breath, but you keep your eyes away from his gaze - the muscles underneath his left vambrace clench and flex as he turns over the fob in his hand. 

"I can tend to it later." he dismisses you easily, as though his injury was a splinter and not a shot wound. you shake your head at his pain tolerance, but you gulp. you're afraid to admit your fears of the break in your ribs - was it residue from the physical trauma you endured back at Csilla? were you still afraid of Mando, after everything? did you just want to prove to him that you aren't a burden? 

you lick your lips and swallow, knowing you can fight through it and possibly sneak off to find some healing ointment for yourself on your way back to the Crest. "maybe they have some information stowed here." you suggest, dropping it in hopes that he wont notice the pain laced onto your face. 

"it better not be DNA encrypted." he mutters, and you huff, wincing slightly at the sharp shooting of pain through your chest. your hand holds your side as you walk towards the hall, blaster raised, "you're telling me, Mando. I'm done pricking my fingers for this piece of shit." 

"I'm not going back to Ryloth with you ever again, that's for sure." Mando gently jokes as he kicks away the weapons and wipes the blood off his cuirass. you roll your eyes when his back is turned, hiding your grin as you slink around the room, grabbing some cans of food to stuff into your satchel. 

"there's something here." Mando's voice calls from behind you, sifting through several papers that look like receipts on the table next to a crate of automatic rifles. you find your way back to him with winded breaths, sharp pain stinging your chest. you grit your teeth through it - how the hell did Mando just walk around so normally with such wounds all the time? you come up beside him, blinking down at the full paper he holds in his grip: just to be met with your face staring back up at you.  "woah." you say dumbly, reading over your own file, as seen by the Ark'uz'iman syndicate. your name is up top, followed by your name day, height, age, an image of yourself; your throat dries up as you keep reading. 

Planet of Purchase: Daluuj. 

"Daluuj." you echo the words you read. "that's where i'm from..." you swallow thickly, emotions swirling around in your head heavily. your tongue feels heavy, but a sharp pain in your ribs makes you gasp. 

Mando's head turns down towards you, but you avert your gaze, grabbing the file from his hands, folding it to stick into your waistband. "can we- can we get back to the Crest?" you ask meekly, the sudden weight for the day pulling you down, drooping your eyelids. 

his hand falls onto your forearm with no hesitation this time; your eyes snap to the touch, surprised at the sudden contact. it's warm and feather-light, almost timid in nature. "are you okay?" his voice is soft when it hits your ears, sending a warmth striking down into your stomach.

you nearly shiver at the tenderness laced into his words, looking up at him through your lashes, "yeah. I kind of- I think that guy may have broke my rib. it's fine." you nod, shrugging lightly, playing off the pain as casual. 

he's stoic, hand resting on your arm as he stares down. the visor is dark, but you can feel the concern ebbing from him, as if his brows are drawn, eyes searching to assess your injury. you almost squirm under his attention. "come on, we have a Bacta shot back home." he draws away from you, making a beeline for the exit of the building. on his way out, he pockets two smuggled grenades for himself, holstering them on his belt; though his hesitation in the threshold of the entrance does not go unnoticed by you as he waits for you gently to catch up to him. 

you bite your lip; he was going to give you a Bacta shot? those are terribly expensive. you follow him, sticking close to his side as you walk out of the Ark'uz'iman building. 

but you don't notice the hooded figure's reflection in the rainy cobblestone until you're being tackled to the ground, a net smothering your body. 

you can't help the scream of pain that escapes you as the force of another body smacks you into the pavement, but you don't intend for it to be his name. "Mando!" 

you barely see through the net as Mando's soon shot with the same kind of netting as yours, a grunt as he smacks into the side of a market building. "dank ferrik!" he groans, struggling to fight against the restraints. you moan in pain, the sharp pain aching your whole body as you struggle against the person above you; they lay on top of you, struggling to force bindings onto you through the net. you kick hard, you head-butt, throw elbows, groaning as you struggle. 

hands grab at your sides roughly, pulling at your net and slamming you back down hard; you see stars float in your vision at the impact on your ribs and you can't breathe at all - kicking, shoving; your mind reels to remember everything Mando's taught you. 

finally, your hands grasp the dagger that lives on your hip, unsheathing it and swiping it across the figure's body near your head as hard as you can. your knife gets stuck in something hard and you can't help the cry from your throat at the sickening feeling of warm blood, dripping down from the perpetrator onto your own face.

the dagger stays sheathed in the body’s neck as it is thrown off of you with a force of a gundark. your scream ripples through the empty cobblestone street, spitting furiously as you try to keep the foreign blood out of your mouth and your lungs full of air. 

hands grab you and you kick hard, your knee contacting hard metal that sends echoes of agony throughout your shin - beskar. "M-Mando, fuck." you whimper, pain searing though you as your companion pulls apart the net that suffocates you, his own still caught by his legs and hip. 

he shushes you, looking around as you blink the pain and stars from your eyes, hands shaking to help him rip apart the net. "he was a hunter." Mando explains, looking back from the slumped, lifeless body to your right. "he had our pucks." 

you're dizzy, exhausted, and you let your head fall against the wet cobblestone, eyes closed as you tilt up towards the weeping sky; fuck, you needed help. you were hurt, and you needed help. "M-Mando," you gasp out with a wince, opening your eyes and craning to look at where he crouches next to you, "it hurts." you sound broken, and you hate it. the man's blood flows off of your face and throat in streaks, the hot, thick liquid mixing with the light and viscous rainfall as they swirl into the street. you spit his blood from your mouth, fighting the rising bile. 

"we're going back. can you stand?" he asks, leaning back as you try to sit up, a sharp pain stuttering your movement until you wail, jerking back in pain. "fuck," you hiss lowly, hands shaking as they come up to your abdomen. "sorry." you groan, shaking your head. 

Mando's glove falls onto your shoulder, the touch warm and unprecedented; you nearly jump as your eyes fall onto his mask. droplets of rain slick down his helmet, curving into the contours of false cheekbones; your eyes follow their small trails and you wonder if they curve into his skin, along the phantom jawline you'd so dreamt of in the dark hours of the night. 

"okay." his hands slowly move, snaking under your knees and shoulders gently, "I'll have to carry you. hold on to me and try not to move." 

his voice is gentle in his instructions as he starts to lift up, your groans cutting through the trickling of rain gutters; the outpost was miserable and desolate, and your cries fell upon empty alleys. 

you don't remember much from the end of the walk back - your hand streaked with someone's blood upon his contoured helmet, holding on as if it was tethering you to this realm; everything fades fast until the sway back and forth of Mando's pace and the thrum of his heart against your cheek carries you into Mando's quarters, strewn onto the bed. 

-- 

Mando hoped you couldn't tell how badly his hands were shaking. 

you lay now, spread before him on top of his charcoal sheets - an image he'd seen in his mind countless times the last few weeks, though always in this circumstance. 

in his mind's eye, you'd always be writhing around in pleasure, face flustered as he took you apart; methodical, slowly, passionately. your hair would be splayed out on his sad, flat pillow, your eyes shining with pleasure, ecstasy. 

but as he looks down at you, all your eyes hold is pain.

Mando, you breathe out. his breath hitches as he leans down, setting the med pack next to you; he reminds himself to thank you later for replenishing your stock of medical supplies on the last run.

"I am going to have to put it into your ribs." he says matter-of-factly, eyes searching your features for any more fear, but only finding acceptance. you nod sharply at him through your shallow breaths, your chest rising and falling sharply, "okay," you say smally. 

"I trust you."

his chest flutters at your words and he's thankful you can't see him blush as he nods at you, pulling out the prep swabs, alcohol, sterilized needle. 

despite his worry over your injury, he was so proud of you.

you hadn't even hesitated when you'd ran into all those members of the syndicate; you'd fought and avoided and dank ferrik, you'd even remembered to go for the feet and shins. and then, after he'd been shot - you'd stood and not hesitated to shoot the man who had shot him.

Mando watches you, the way your eyelashes flutter closed, the breath that puffs from your plumped lips through sweat-flushed cheeks; he swallows roughly. everything seemed so normal, you'd barely batted an eye after killing three men; those same hands which had trembled just a moon ago when they'd first held a blaster in their soft grasp.

he can't help the shuddering breath as he realizes it: you were becoming like him. 

it sends anxiety through his whole body, the crushing realization that you had been imbrued with the burden of another's life. your eyes, bright and more alluring than any sight in the whole galaxy: now dimmed with the pain that comes with his line of work. 

he'd broken countless ribs in his time, and it twists his stomach to see you go through it for the first time. you were corrupted by him. he sees that anger in you now - it's in your face, your eyes... there's a vengeful anger that spits words from your mouth when he tells you what to do, there's a stubbornness in your body when a threat poses itself. and then, there was Vros, the slime that Mando had lost control of and shot dead before they could get any more information. he shudders slightly, remembering the rage that boiled inside of him at the words he'd spoken about you. 

(girls that look like her are worth hundreds of credits, even after i'm done with them.)

the memory of it makes him clench his fists, resisting the urge to destroy. it makes him sick, the way that he couldn't control himself. you are dangerous for him, and you have no clue. 

as he gently coaxes your shirt up, coursing over the softness of your bare stomach, your hand falls onto his forearm fleetingly before falling to the cot below you. 

he sees the goosebumps on your skin under his gloves and it twists his heart even further: he'd been attracted to you immediately when he'd first seen you, though he knows he'd started to have feelings for you after only a few days of your company; that hurt him, it scared him - 

there are few things in this galaxy that made him want to run, and you were one of them. because he is starting to see himself in you, and you in him. 

you're staring at him again. 

it's weird when you do it, so openly, so devotedly, as if you couldn't bare to look away. as if you could see him through the mask; a stupid thought, he knows, but one he liked to indulge in nonetheless. 

trust was a hard thing to find in this life. it was flimsy, fleeting, unreliable - but one thing that's been constant is you. you're changing, he can feel it, but throughout it all, all of the fear, the anger, the ambivalence, the arguments that seem to bubble up daily between you and his clashing personalities; through it all, you were there. 

he's realized after saving the kid that even someone like him, with a life like his, needs love. 

and you are a testament to that. 

Mando knows his strength, he knows that he could plow through a crowd to get to what he needed; but as he looks down at you in pain, near tears on his bed because of him, it's simple. it's clear.

he'd put the entire universe to the blade for you. every time. 

-- 

you're stuck in the world of your discomfort until Mando's gentle tone cuts through the ship. the kid is in his pram, wide eyes peeking over the edge in concern. you smile to him weakly, cooing softly. his head tilts back in response. 

"are you ready?" is all he says, voice low. you swallow, wiping the sheen of sweat from your brow, "yes." you respond, breathing shallowly. he nods once, moving to set down the sterilized needle onto the side table before moving to pull at his gloves.

your eyes widen as the first one is removed, a hand that nearly glows in the damp room in its bareness. his skin is tanned, the same tone as the skin of his back you'd seen last; your breath leaves you this time not from pain, no, from wonder. 

you don't say anything until Mando's flicking the needle, testing the Bacta inside it. "you don't have to." you say gently. he doesn't have to. you know he could just as well give you this shot without taking his gloves off, he's certainly done everything else with them. no, he's chosen to take of his glove. to touch you. 

his helmet cants towards you, "I know I don't have to." he's sure. the butterflies flutter through your torso and it makes you bite back a sheepish grin, flustered by his kindness. 

you're helpless as his bare hands touch you. you're putty, pliant, giddy, full of wonder as the warmth of his dry hands cascade over your shivering body, gently easing the bacta shot into your ribs and soothing over it easily. you barely feel the sharp pinch as he injects you. 

"there, done." he leans over you slightly, until you open your eyes and see him looming over you. "it should start to work pretty soon." he nods. 

you send him a smile, a flush blossoming through your chest at the silence. he doesn't move, just staring down at you in peace. "so how'd I do? I shot someone." you say, the healing medicine of the Bacta shot soon coursing energy through you. you gently scoot, making room for Mando if he so chooses to sit next to you. 

he actually laughs at your words, you can see it in his shoulders and the way he shakes is head in amusement. it's a deep rumble that soothes your stomach and makes your cheeks heat up. "you did. a few people." 

you lift one shoulder, still breathing shallow as the pain starts to dissipate gently, slowly. "I'm sorry, though. that I got hurt. I just-" you cut yourself off, embarrassed. but Mando's patient for you, always. "i just thought maybe..." maybe you'd be proud of me, for how I fought. but you don't say that, "that if I wasn't there, you wouldn't have had to use the shot on me. and maybe you could have avoided getting hurt if I'd done better." 

your eyes fall pointedly to his arm, where the skin is still marred. 

"no, ka'ra, it's not your fault." he shakes his head, leaning down to his knees. you swallow as his helmet is evened with your eyes, kneeling down to your height. your handprint, crusted maroon with the blood of another man, is still smeared down the front of his helmet and it makes your heart thump in pain. "you did well. I'm glad I had you by my side."  

neither of you say anything; the air is tender, thick with the memories of the last few days and everything that's happened - you briefly wonder if Mando's even slept in the last cycle.

but soon, your breath catches in shock. Mando's slowly reaching out to thumb a loose strand of your hair, smoothing it gently and snugly near your temple.

his bare hand, the skin tingling against the intimate touch of your head; you're breathless, afraid to move to as to startle him. it's like sighting a rare, desired animal while hunting in the woods. his hand is warm and bare against you and it blankets you in a peaceful comfort. 

calmed by his gesture, your eyes flicker away, up towards the small ledge that holds the few items Mando keeps in his room: a spare handlight, one of the kid's llittle toy balls, and-

your heart skips.

the Sable, just next to his cot.

it sits, polished next to the other items, of which have caught a layer of dust. but the Sable, it sits proud and clean, as though he's cared for it all these weeks. he'd accepted your gratitude, he'd accepted your culture even though you didn't truly know it. you had no true religion, no culture, just a family waiting out there for you. and he'd accepted that. cherished it. 

you want to cry.

your swell of emotion must be misinterpreted by your companion as his touch lingers; his hand drops from your space gently. "look at me." he says gently. though just as his hand slips away, you catch it in your own grasp; warm skin on warm skin, the electric touch of two beings who long for a connection in a vast and isolated universe. 

you yearn to do it, to feel your lips pressed against his knuckles; to express your gratitude for everything he's done, despite how you sometimes treated him - but you don't. 

instead, your breath hits his hand warm and heave, a breath of thank you barely a whisper as it passes your devoted lips. he doesn't pull his hand away until you release it, and you finally break the moment by looking back up at him. 

"you did amazing, c'yare. and we know where to go. we will wait until you are healed." he says gently, affection lacing his words. it makes you grin, nodding a watery agreement. stars, you needed to rest.

amazing, he'd said. you want to mention the Sable. you should, you should tell him- you should tell him how fucking much he means, how important he and the kid are, how - how this is the one place in the universe you feel safe. but it doesn't allow itself to fall from your lips - not yet. 

"i wish i could be more like you." you say softly instead. you're feeling better and less in pain by the second, and the soft breath that falls from Mando's modulator eases your shoulders and swirls in your stomach. "no, you don't." he says gently, a lullaby that rocks you into a deep affection as he moves, rising up from crouching in front of you to sit next to you. he leaves a sizable space between you, his thigh not touching yours. 

staring down, your lips quirk up into a half-smile. despite your injuries, you can't believe you found out where your family is. you were going to finally find them. you don't let the tears fall, for fear that Mando may have a heart attack thinking he'd upset you again. 

"I guess," you start, turning to look at him as you pull the med kit towards you to begin your applications on his arm wound, "despite it all, it was a good thing. I'm going home. thank you for teaching me." 

Mando's pulling the child into his arm that is not occupied by your healing ministrations, "you are becoming a great fighter. I'm... I'm happy for you." you barely notice the lilt laced through his words. 

"you can't have success without a hiccup, right?" you lick your lips, repeating something Mando had mumbled to you once last week when you'd been repairing the Crest, "so I guess you can't have glory without a little gore." pulling out bacta wipes and bandages, distracting yourself from your shaking hands as you prepare to help Mando dress his own wound. 

it's silent, then with a huff of amusement, "that's why our faces are over every single bounty in this system, ka'ra." 

and despite yourself you grin. 

.

next

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taglist: @toobsessedsstuff  @tizylish @millersdjarin @cloufire @kalea-bane @daddy-long-legolas

@dontletyourchildrenwatchthis   @ponyboys-sunsets @leithatnight​ @imobbssed

.

[bl00dgutsgl0ry]

Rivalry Put To Rest

Pairing - Zhongli x Fem!Reader

Warnings - Arranged marriages (non of that under age like child marriages though fuck that yuck, these are obviously of age adults i just really wanna make that clear jesus), praise kink, modern AU, just lovely soft sex with my favorite man :'^).

Word Count - 2.4k

Other Comments - Dude it’s been so long since ive actually written anything im so sorry. But i couldn't resist writing this. I know i promised xiao but he will come in time. This is a little bit of a slow burn, or at least the sex doesnt start right away lol i want this to be nice and soft. P.s. youre on birth control so dont worry about no condom lol.

You did not like this idea. Why your parents were still forcing you into this was beyond you seeing as how you were a fully grown ass adult. You just couldn’t stomach the disappointment you would be seen as in their eyes. You were the daughter to the CEO of one of the most well known Law Firms in Teyvat. Zhongli was the son of another CEO who controlled your Rival company. Yours's and his parents wanted to finally settle the bad blood between the firms by having the two of you get married. You knew damn well the benefits of doing this was, god forbid if your Fathers firm went underwater, you would still be secure with Zhongli as your husband.

It’s not that you didn’t like Zhongli, and he certainly was not ugly; you just couldn’t stand your freedom to choose who you really wanted to marry being ripped from you. It was non negotiable though, so you had to go through with it. Zhongli didn’t seem to mind at all, he thoroughly enjoyed his very brief moments he had with you before, and was frankly excited to get more of those moments. He just hoped you didn’t resent him or blame him for this.

You both of course had an extravagant wedding, why would you not when your family was one of the wealthiest in Teyvat. You were grateful to your parents for letting you invite a few of your friends, and it seemed Zhongli had done the same. There was almost like a crowd formed around you two at the after party, you talking to your friends, and him with his. Zhongli had offered you his arm to hold onto, but you politely declined, feeling that even just holding his arm was too intimate for you.

“Already trouble in paradise for the two lovebirds?” One of Zhongli’s friends had chuckled, a red head with a stupidly smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as you shot a look at him. Your friend Ningguang frowned, turning to look at your now husband.

“Control your dog, Mr. Zhongli.” You let out a chuckle, when you heard Zhongli’s friend scoff.

After a while, it was customary for the newlyweds to go on their honeymoon; so after a couple of hours you had to bid farewell to your friends and family. You approached the jet the two of you would be taking, with Zhongli carrying the luggage not far behind. You went ahead and boarded, while your new husband spoke with the pilot and the crew, sighing to yourself.

“Come on (y/n) suck it up, this honeymoon will be over sooner than you know it.” You mumbled to yourself, settling into the high class jet.

“Did you say something (y/n)?” You jumped, not expecting to hear Zhongli’s voice. “Ah.. My apologies, I did not mean to startle you.” You sighed and shook your head, waiving your hand to dismiss the apology.

“You’re fine Zhongli, I’m just… Nervous is all.” He hummed in response, nodding as he settled himself into the jet.

“I understand (y/n), I really do apologize about this being thrusted into your lap. I know this isn’t the ideal circumstances for a young woman to go through.” You nodded, glad that he understood your hesitance to the situation. Zhongli really wasn’t a bad guy.

“It’s really not your fault Zhongli, I understand you probably had no more say in it than I.” You gave him a reassuring smile, the first genuine smile to grace his line of sight. Without noticing he found himself smiling back, relieved that you didn’t see him with any contempt. A comfortable silence settled, as the jet took off towards your destination.

It wasn’t a long flight, and along the way you were able to make small talk, slowly learning more about Zhongli. After two short hours, you felt the jet jump slightly against the ground before steadying itself on the runway. After a few more moments, you both departed, Zhongli once again handling the luggage, leaving your side to retrieve it.

Before you knew it, you were at the house you would be staying at for your honeymoon. It sat on a beautiful beach side shore, with a large open patio looking out over the ocean. By the time you guys had arrived it was already around 10:00 o’clock at night, so the crescent moon was high in the sky as you both stepped out onto the patio. The moon and stars gleamed against the inky black water, with the rhythmic beating of the waves lulling you both into a comfortable silence. You stood next to your husband and finally for the first time that night, actually took in his face.

The light of the scenery exposed the beauty Zhongli held in his face, the pale light bouncing off his cheekbones and illuminating his golden irises as he looked out over the sea. He must’ve felt you staring because moments later those golden eyes were locked on yours.

“Do you like the scenery (y/n)?” You gave a quick nod before ducking away from his gaze, a red flush rising to your face. You heard him chuckle for a moment before shifting.

“I know what is customary to happen on our honeymoon, and I do not want you to feel pressured to fulfill that part of our relationship.” You flushed even more as you suddenly found the pattern of the wood to be very interesting. You had completely forgot that sex was usually something people did on honeymoons. It seemed normal, because generally the people who get married have had a relationship before this so nothing felt awkward about the topic. Obviously that wasn't the case in this situation, but there was something in you that kind of wanted to. Something in you that felt comfortable enough with him to do it, you already trusted him which shocked you. What if he wasn’t though? What if he was uncomfortable with the thought of having sex with you right now which is why he brought it up so suddenly?

“Thank you Zhongli, you’re too kind. You’ve truly been so understanding through this entire thing.” You looked back up to him finally, and found a gentle smile on his face. He nodded and hummed before turning back to the house.

“We should probably get to bed, it’s already fairly late.” You nodded, pulling out your phone to check the time. You both walked about into the house together. “There is another room down the hall from the master bedroom if you don’t want to sleep in the same bed. It’s smaller so I could always take it.” There he goes, being considerate and kind; handling your thoughts and feelings like glass that would break any second. You remained silent for a moment contemplating on what he had said, before gently shaking your head.

“No, no, it’s fine. I want to share the bed with you.” You smiled up at him, and he looked almost surprised with your willingness, but the shock didn’t last for long before he smiled back at you and nodded; offering you his arm to hold on to, which you shakily took. You both reached the bedroom, where he had placed all of your guy's luggage before letting you go to retrieve your sleeping clothes as he did the same. You went into the bathroom, to give yourself and him some privacy before slowly re-entering. Zhongli was in a pair of brown silk pants with golden accents and a black short sleeve shirt. Your eyes met each other, and Zhongli smiled when he saw you.

“I know that these were unideal circumstances to get married, but I’m happy it is you who is my spouse. I can only hope you think the same of me, and that at some point you can genuinely feel connected to me.” You blushed as he said this, genuinely taken aback by the sincerity in his voice. You feel bad for dreading and almost resenting Zhongli when you were first notified about the engagement, once finding out just how compassionate and caring the man before you was. Slowly, the two of you made your way into the large king sized bed. There was a large gap between the two of you, large enough to comfortably fit another person. Your mind raced a mile a minute trying to decide whether or not you should scoot in a little closer to the man next to you.

And so you did, without taking another moment to think about it you shifted closer to Zhongli until your side gently pressed against his. You felt Zhongli stiffen beside you for a brief moment, and for a split second you regretted scooting in; that was until you felt him roll over onto his side and wrap a strong arm around your torso. You could really take in Zhongli’s scent like this and you noticed that he smelled like amber rum, chestnuts, and a hint of vanilla. It wrapped you in a warmth that lulled you into a comforting silence as the two of you laid together like this.

You rolled onto your side, letting Zhongli’s arm now rest against your waist. Your noses were almost touching as the two of you stared into each other's eyes. You saw his eyes dart down to your lips for the briefest of seconds, letting yourself do the same.

“Zhongli…” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “Can I kiss you?” You saw Zhongli’s eyes widen as his gorgeous eyes met yours, not expecting you to ask him that.

“I would love nothing more… Darling.” You flushed at the mild pet name, before softly placing your lips onto his. It felt as time skidded to a halt, as the two of you moved against each other with the grace of a slow dance. Soon enough it became heated, as you changed positions and straddled his hips. You could feel his boner pressing against you through his pants, and it made warmth bloom in your chest.

“You really want to do this right? You don’t feel pressured my dear?” You smiled at Zhongli’s questions, nodding before he could get another one out. It felt good to be so concerned about, so doted over.

“Yes Zhongli, I really want to do this with you. I trust you.” This time it was Zhongli’s turn to flush, an elegant smile gracing his lips. Before long, the both of you were out of your sleeping clothes and back on top of one another. Your back was to the silken bed sheets, as Zhongli was on top of you lining his hard cock up with your eager pussy. Zhongli gave you one last look before slowly entering you inch by inch. To say he was huge would be an understatement, so he knew he had to take it slow with you so as to not hurt you in any way. Zhongli needed this to be a good experience with you, he would never forgive himself if he hurt you or made this unenjoyable in any way at all.

The noises you were making and the way your hands were clawing at his back reassured him that he was doing everything right so far, always stopping after pushing in a few inches to give you time to adjust. Without thinking, Zhongli's mouth just started moving as words spilled out.

“You’re doing so good for me my angel, you’re taking me so well. You’re too good for me.” With the praise spilling out of Zhongli’s mouth, you couldn’t help but unleash a flurry of loud moans, as he bottomed out. He stood still for a couple moments, making sure you were nice and comfortable, until he felt you trying to move against him; trying to get him to move in and out of you.

“If you were ready for me to move, all you needed to do was ask my gem.” You let out a whine like moan, that evolved into a guttural groan when he finally started to thrust in and out of you. Your nails raked across his skin, surely leaving marks for you to admire after this was all said and done. He wasn’t skipping out on the marks either, as he sucked and bit at your skin, still throwing out praise every time his mouth left your skin. His fingers dug into your hips, as he sped up. He just couldn’t help himself, your wet quivering pussy just felt way too good wrapped around him; sucking him in every time he pulled out.

“I can’t believe it took us getting into an arranged marriage to finally meet, my god where have you been all my life.” Zhongli had begun to groan, obviously getting close to tipping over the edge, with the way his thrusts continued to get sloppier every so often. You moaned in response, too blissed out of your mind to form actual words. Zhongli’s head fell against your shoulder, his ebony black hair hanging off his shoulders.

With a few more strokes, Zhongli had both of you tumbling over the edge and cumming in unison. All that could be heard in your room was the quiet crashing of waves and the combined panting of the both of you. After a few moments of Zhongli getting his breath back he tumbled down next to you, sweaty shoulders touching. A couple seconds of silence passed before you spoke up in a raspy broken voice.

“It took us so long because I’m technically your rival.” You were giggling slightly, when Zhongli let out a loud chuckle.

“I guess you are right my dear, but now we are joined together. And I cannot wait to see what comes of our joining.”

[floralseokjin]

⤑ made-up love song epilogue (m).

Your first encounter with Kim Seokjin doesn’t go so well, nor your second, or your third… and maybe that’s because it shouldn’t work on paper. You’re an elementary school teacher living with your best friend, and have never left the country despite hitting the third decade of your life not so long ago. He’s the dad of one of your students, nearly a decade older than you and divorced. Oh yes, and just another minor detail – he’s a multimillionaire.

Your lives are lightyears apart, yet somehow, your paths having now crossed, things just seem to fall into place…

pairing; kim seokjin x reader au/genre/warnings; strangers to lovers, single dad! seokjin, ceo! seokjin, elementary school teacher! oc, age gap (oc is 30, seokjin is 37), seokjin is a dilf, romance, fluff, a final resolution, smut; oral (male receiving), penetration, got a lot spicier than i initially imagined, oc was feeling herself words; 6,503

↪︎ chapter index

chapters; i • ii • iii  • iv • v • vi • vii • viii • ix • x • epilogue  (+ drabbles)

author’s note; fun fact, I’ve never actually written an epilogue before, but it felt fitting this time around, to tie up all the loose(ish) ends and satisfyingly bring it to a close – she says as if she isn’t writing drabble upon drabble (and more) lol but you get what I mean. I hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading ~ 

“The rabbits!” Seokjin cried out of the blue, jumping to his feet. 

Immediately you found yourself slumped into the sofa, having been leaning against him, cuddled up all morning. You sat up, confused as you looked at him. “What?”

His eyes were wide with panic. “I need to feed them! Arin will kill me if she finds out.” 

“Relax,” you chuckled, taking a hand in yours to tug him back to you. He stepped between your legs but kept standing. “They won’t starve to death. When did you feed them last?”

“Last night,” he thought. “Just after I came home from work. Maybe 7.” 

You checked his watch, seeing it was just gone eleven. “They’ll be fine for another half hour.” You stood up, tugging his hand again, but this time to lead him to the kitchen. “Come on, let’s take the stuff for brunch to your place.” 

You’d stayed in bed for a while this morning, just happily holding and kissing one another, still buzzed and definitely still basking in that post-orgasm glow. When you’d finally managed to escape the warmth of your sheets, you’d showered together. Your bathroom was a lot smaller than his – obviously – and your shower bath was even tinier, but you made it work, until you didn’t, Seokjin nearly toppling out over the side while simultaneously nearly getting rolled up in the shower curtain. Of course that had given you the giggles, but you’d composed yourself, finishing up, getting dry and then getting dressed for the day. Luckily, Seokjin had some clothes at your place, so he didn’t have to recycle the ones he’d slept in last night. 

You were treating this day like a Sunday, making the most of being lazy on the sofa before you inevitably had to go and cook brunch up. 

He stopped in his tracks, making you turn back. “You sure?” He asked, pulling you to him, nuzzling his nose against your jaw as his arms wrapped around waist. “I wanted to stay here this weekend.” 

You couldn’t stop yourself from chuckling, linking your hands around his neck as he placed a kiss behind your ear. “It doesn’t matter where we are as long as we’re together.” 

He pulled back to see you, his plump lips already curved into a smile. “You speak such truth. I’m forever awestruck by you.” 

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes, but that didn’t stop you from stealing a small kiss. 

Seokjin decided he wanted more, pressing kiss upon kiss to your lips with enjoyable hums. “I love you,” he declared causally after the last that lingered a little. Then he grinned. “How many time will I say that today before it gets annoying?” 

You smiled fondly at him. “You could never be annoying.” You got the last kiss. “I love you.” 

.

.

A lazy day was a lazy day regardless of the house. After Seokjin made sure the rabbits were happy, fed and had fresh water, you started brunch, eating it on the kitchen island as the rain continued, falling down against the tall windows. Any other day you would have found the weather depressing, but not today. Not when you were bursting with happiness and beautifully content. Besides, that just meant you had even more of a reason to do nothing, cuddled up on Seokjin’s large corner sofa as you picked up the series the both of you had started watching a couple of weeks ago. 

At around 5pm you started toying with the idea of going out for dinner somewhere, but then you hadn’t brought along the right clothes and by now it was raining heavier than it had all day. The idea of putting on makeup made you feel even lazier, so you decided on takeout in the evening and a movie instead. 

As Seokjin was arranging the containers and plates around the coffee table, ready to dig in, movie ready to go, you slipped out a question. There’d been something on your mind all day, nothing major of course, but still, you didn’t quite know how to bring it up. 

“What time is Arin coming home tomorrow?” 

“I’m unsure,” he replied, briefly looking over at you before he opened up the black bean noodles. “I need to text Nana.” 

You nodded, opening you mouth to ask a follow up question, but hesitating last minute. He looked at you again, sensing your caution and raised a concerned eyebrow. You hated seeing him worried, so you rushed ahead. “Do you want me to go home beforehand?”

“No, of course not,” he exclaimed, before he furrowed his brow. “Unless you want to of course… If you feel uncomfortable.” 

“I don’t,” you were quick to reassure. You wanted to be there actually, if he was okay with it. “I was thinking her and I should clear the air.” 

You could see Seokjin deep in thought for a brief second before he nodded, sitting back against the sofa to take your hand. “It won’t be like last time. I promise.” 

Seokjin had already told you some of what he and Nana had spoken about Thursday evening, so you knew not to be worried about any potential conflict, but still, you didn’t want to blindside her. “We should probably check with her first though, right?” 

“Okay,” he agreed. Giving you a smile, he squeezed your thigh. “I’ll call her after the movie.” 

.

.

“Should I turn off the lamp?” 

You nodded in reply, watching Seokjin lean over his side of the bed to flick the only form of light you had off. When he rolled onto his back, you immediately pounced, hooking a leg over his hip to settle yourself on top of him, your stomachs flush. It may have nearing 12am, but sleep was not the thing on your mind. 

“Oh, hello,” he responded, happily surprised as his hands found your hips, nudging you closer. 

“Hello,” you smiled, wasting no time with meeting your mouths. 

You were a woman on a mission, knowing exactly what you wanted. Today had been lovely, and yes, you’d already had sex today, but when had that ever stopped you before? You were happy and in love and just couldn’t keep your hands (and lips) off of your boyfriend. On top of that, you were just in a great mood, full of positivity. Nana was fine with meeting tomorrow and that meant you could all clear the air and move forward. You’d finally get to see Arin again too, you’d missed her.

Things were perfect, if you did say so yourself, everything heading in the right direction, and right now you wanted to celebrate that. With Seokjin. In the best kind of way. 

“I would have kept the light on if I knew we’d be kissing,” Seokjin murmured wetly against your lips, his tongue missing yours by a second as you started to trail your way down his chin, throat and then his chest, kissing over his pyjama shirt. 

He felt you start to undo the buttons, his cock beginning to rouse expectantly which was highly amusing for you. As you exposed more and more of his chest your lips followed suit, kissing down his stomach, past his belly button to stop just above his pyjama pants, the tiny hairs that littered the skin tickling. You pulled the shirt open, working your way up again, Seokjin helpfully keeping your hair out of your eyes as he tried to hungrily watch you at work, the light of the moon shining through the gaps in the drapes casting enough light to be able to make you out. 

He let out a shaky moan when you flicked the tip of your tongue against his right nipple, laughing at himself afterwards. 

Back at his mouth, you didn’t stay too long before you sat up, straddling him. 

“Where are you going?” He wailed, annoyed you didn’t want his kisses. 

But it wasn’t that you didn’t want them, more like you wanted something else… 

You moved downwards, covers collecting at the end of the bed as you slotted in between his eagerly opening legs, his hips bucking when you cupped his now fully erect (and trapped) member. You began to run your hand up and down it, a grin on your face as you looked up. “You’re so easy.” 

Eyes having adjusted, you saw his grin was a little more bashful, eyes half lidded as he admired the view before him. “Only for you.” 

Ever the flatterer, you had him inside the warmth of your mouth in no time. You weren’t shy by any means, especially now what with all the times you and Seokjin had been intimate, but there was something about being surrounded in near darkness that gave you a fresh surge of confidence. In the glow of the moon, you could make out Seokjin’s parted lips, his eyes piercing the ceiling, giving you a glorious view of his thick neck, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down slowly as his breathing got shallower, just enjoying the moment. He looked handsome as hell – mixed with that pyjama shirt pushed sinfully open, his toned chest and stomach on full display. For you. 

Taking him deeper, you reached for him, running your hands up his stomach, feeling the firm ridges of muscle. He let out a deep moan, looking down to take your hands in his, eyes heavy with desire as he clasped them tight. You eased up a little, smiling around his cock before you started sucking the tip, caressing your tongue over him time and time again. 

He lifted his hips up, eager for more and you wrestled one of your hands free from his to clasp it around the base of his dick, feeling how wet it was from your saliva as you slowly started jerking him off, placing small, wet kisses against his slit. 

With the hand still on his torso, he slipped his fingers between yours, head relaxing back, eyes shut once he felt you softly begin to massage his balls, coating them in the spit that had dripped down onto them. You took him deeper again, picking up speed as you bobbed your head up and down. The sensation just about exploded his mind. 

“Jesus, fuck, baby,” he gasped, free hand running through his hair and tugging at the roots. “If you keep that up I’ll cum.” 

You found it cute how bad his voice trembled, pulling off to smirk. “And is that a bad thing?” 

“Nope, it’s not bad,” he agreed, a little more himself now that you’d spared him for a few seconds. “I just thought we could do some other stuff too.” 

“Some other stuff?” you laughed, lifting on your knees to crawl closer to him. You continued to massage his balls, feeling them tighten. “Like what?” 

He took a shaky breath, rolling his hips into your touch. “Like…” He paused to groan. Now you were jerking him again, your thumb rolling small circles against his slit. “Sex.” He tried again. “I want to have sex with you.” 

“You do?” 

“I always want to have sex with you.” 

And impatient now, his hands gripped your waist, tugging you to him. You squealed, fingers slipping from his cock to land on his chest, the movement sudden enough to make you think you were falling. He kissed you hastily, a soft growl in his throat as his palm grazed over your ass, fingertips playing with the frill detail of your shorts. 

“I’d be inside you 24/7 if it was possible.” 

“God, I want it to be possible so bad.” You practically lamented, his mouth on your neck now, licking strips up and down the sensitive skin. 

He made another noise, cock twitching against your thigh. You felt impatient yourself now, hands finding the collars of his shirt to push it over his shoulders, needing to strip him. He lifted his back of the bed, letting you shimmy the item off before his hands grabbed at your vest, lifting it up over your head in no time. Your mouths met in a rush, his hands palming your breasts, making you moan out, nipples sensitive as he pinched them between his thumb and forefinger. 

You went to move, wanting to get rid of his pants but he stopped you, fingers wrapping around your ribs. 

“W-wait, wait, wait, wait,” he babbled, pulling you closer. “Let me taste them.” To explain further, he caressed a finger down your left breast, making you shudder. “Mine,” he whispered possessively and then you found yourself hovering over his face, his hands cupping the soft, sensitive flesh as he kissed and sucked them in turn. 

You could feel yourself growing wetter and wetter, shorts uncomfortable as he swirled his tongue around and around your nipple, nipping it gently as he pulled away. “I love your body,” he breathed – hard. “I love you.” 

“Mhmm,” you moaned deeply, watching him suck on the other boob now. Your fingers dug into the pillow, arms trembling with pleasure. “I love you, too.” 

He made a noise of approval, finally letting you break free so you could get his pants down over his hips. His erection was so hard by now it almost stood poker straight, veins angrily visible even in the faint lighting. Pyjama pants below his knees, he eagerly kicked them off the rest of the way, watching as you peeled off your shorts. Both naked, he moaned as you straddled him, sliding up and down his cock teasingly, coating it in your arousal. 

“Honey, please,” he pleaded. His voice shook. “Don’t tease. It’s not very nice.” 

“You tease me all the time.”

He groaned weakly, unable to think of a comeback. You sat straighter, chest wet and shiny in the moonlight, his doing, and you knew he could see it too, his dark eyes watching you silently – hungrily. He looked so good, you couldn’t wait any longer. Wrapping your hand around him, you ambitiously went for it, pushing down and taking him whole. It surprised you both, groaning together as you caught your breaths. 

Although, you didn’t give him much time to get used to the feeling of your warmth hugging him tight before you began to ride him hard and fast, bouncing up and down loudly before you stopped to swivel your hips. He could feel you everywhere, his eyes practically rolling back into his head as you continued your onslaught. 

“Y/N…” He murmured, voice weak as he watched you begin to bounce on top of him again, his hands travelling up your thighs to land on your waist. “Y/N,” he tried again, unable to piece together a sentence. “Shit, keep going like that…mmfph, yeah, just like that…” 

When you felt his fingers digging into your skin you wrapped your hands around his, pushing them away. “N-no touching,” you panted, feeling him lift his legs and fold them at the knee behind you, giving you something to lean back on. 

“Seriously,” he asked, sounding annoyed, yet dreadfully turned on. 

You smirked. “I want you to lay back and watch.” 

He matched the curve of your lips. ‘Oh, I can do that no problem, honey.” He stubbornly kept his voice steady, thrusting inside of you once before he stilled his hips completely. “Could watch you ride me all night.” 

On cue, he folded his arms behind his head, biceps bulging. The casual manner got you instantly hot, bouncing along his cock a couple more times before you leaned forward, changing the angle and in turn hopefully sending him crazy. You moved back and forth, griding all over him, your arousal soaking into his pubic hair. You were wetter than usual tonight, turning yourself on as you rode him, hearing the soft squelching where your bodies met, the pressure on your clit eliciting moan after moan. 

You stared him straight in the eyes, noticing the way his jaw was clenched tight, a muscle twitching in his left cheek, but he continued to persevere, stubborn to the bone. 

That was until he felt your breasts graze against him. His hips jerked up, moaning as he was unable to stop rolling into you, and you let him, let him fuck up into you, moaning softly. 

He grunted. “Someone’s getting tired.” 

You shook your head with a whine. You could be stubborn too. Sitting up, you attempted to bounce again but his hips were working too fast by now, his fists grabbing the pillow below his head to gain some momentum. You cried out as he thrust harder, Seokjin’s own noises of pleasure gasping out of him as if he’d been holding his breath. 

“S-seokjin,” you panted, shakily holding onto his thighs. 

He wasn’t relenting. If anything he fucked you harder. “Honey, just give up,” he said matter-of-factly, yet his voice was strained, veins in his neck visible. 

Confidently he brought his hands to your hips, knowing you wouldn’t stop him now, too far gone. You let your eyes flutter closed, concentrating on how good his cock felt inside you. The beautifully crude sound of him pounding into you. 

“Yeah?” He breathed. “Let me make you feel good now. It’s your turn…” 

You nodded, moaning brokenly, and in the blink of an eye you found yourself on your back, Seokjin situated between your spread legs, finding home once again inside the warmth of your body.

You grasped his shoulders, making more noise as he rolled his hips into you, and hooked your legs around his waist, wanting him as deep as possible 

“Uh-uh-uh,” he grinned, taking your hands off him. “No touching.” 

You started complaining but then he pushed your hands above your head, holding your wrists tight with one hand. “Nghnn. Seokjin,” you moaned, feeling him start to fuck you with his entire weight. His back looked delectable and all you wanted to do was rake your fingernails down it but you couldn’t. 

Although, being pinned down by him wasn’t such a terrible thing. 

After a couple of minutes he pressed the elbow of the arm that had you imprisoned into the mattress, careful not to squash you as he brought the other hand between your legs, beginning to roll your swollen clit between his fingertips. Gasping, your legs fell back to the bed, circling your hips in time with his motions, wanting to cum now that he’d put the idea into your head. 

He chuckled at your eagerness causing you to whine. “Why d-don’t you put those lips to good use?”

“Like this, baby?” He smirked, leaning his face in closer, mouth millimetres from yours, and you just about lunged, kissing him desperately. 

He matched that urgency, at some point unable to keep your wrists in place and as soon as he let you go, you had your arms wrapped around him longingly. A groan tore from his throat, thrusts more determined as he continued to rub your clit, and you could feel your back begin to arch, toes curling into the sheets. 

He could obviously feel you squeezing around him too, ripping himself away from your mouth with a moan of your name. “Y/N. Fuck.” 

That’s all it took for you to crumble, face contorting with pleasure as you stared up at him, pulsing around him uncontrollably. 

“You’re so pretty when you cum,” he cooed, removing his hand from between your legs as he pressed soft kisses to your mouth, your orgasm continuing to wash over you in waves. “Am I pretty when I cum?” He joked, but you were too far gone to snort, let alone reply. 

He kept rolling into you, determined to keep your pleasure going for as long as possible, and you almost felt overwhelmed, back arching higher as you clung to him, a tear escaping out of one eye to run down the side of your face. He kissed it away, continuing to adore you, voice cracking, close himself now.  

“You’re my pretty woman. So pretty.” He murmured against your lips and you kissed him hard, the last of orgasm rocking through your body. Holy shit, that was a powerful one. You felt lightheaded but couldn’t get enough. 

“Fuck,” he gasped, feeling the effects as you squeezed and spasmed around him, and with one final thrust he stilled, beginning to spill inside of you. 

You cupped his face quickly, hands trembling and pushed his head up, wanting to admire his face. His plump lips were parted and shiny, beads of sweat collecting along his hairline, gaze unfocused, eyelids heavy with the weight of his pleasure. He looked positively sinful. 

You gave him a drunken smile, your own eyes barely open, and told him simply, “You’re pretty when you cum.” 

.

.

You awoke just as Seokjin was rolling over, a muscular arm reaching for you, pulling your body into his warmth. It was still raining, even harder this morning, but you didn’t care, not when you were so cosy and in love. You were still both entirely naked, which Seokjin took full advantage of, hand cupping a breast – nothing sexual in it though, more like a comfort thing. You smiled, eyes still closed and cuddled in deeper. 

“Where is he this morning?” 

There was a brief silence as he tried to work out what you were asking, but soon enough he realised and laughed, sound cracked and raspy with sleep. “He’s tuckered out after last night.” 

“Aw, diddums.” 

A Sunday morning without a boner? Blasphemy. His morning woods were part of the package, so honestly it was quite surprising to not feel him hard between your butt cheeks. 

Seokjin kissed the top of your head, making a sleepy sound, hugging you tighter to his body. “He just wants to stay in bed and cuddle this morning.” 

“That sounds perfect to me.” 

You honestly couldn’t think of anything better. 

.

.

Once you eventually dragged yourselves out of the warmth of Seokjin’s giant bed, the rest of the morning and early afternoon went by in the blink of an eye. You had just about enough time for a quick lunch before Arin was due back at 2pm, and even though you were ready to meet Nana this time, you still couldn’t stop yourself from feeling a little nervous. It was only natural, you knew that, so you didn’t dwell on it too much, but as you heard the intercom start to ring in the entryway, signalling her arrival, your worry must have been written all over your face. 

“Hey,” Seokjin said softly, calling you as you hovered by the doorway of the family room. When he saw he had your attention, he smiled warmly. “Everything’s fine.”

You gave him a reassuring smile of your own, watching him answer the call to Nana before he opened up the front door, waiting their arrival. 

Arin came in full steam ahead, her little backpack on her shoulders, her carry-on hopping behind as she attempted to ram it over the step to get inside. Nana was only just getting out of the car, you could see her slightly from where you still stood in the doorway of the family room. 

“Hello, Arin.” Seokjin greeted, amusement clear in his voice as he watched his daughter struggle. “Did you have a fun time?” 

She was too busy huffing and puffing to reply and that’s when he finally took pity on her. He reached out his arm, “Let me take your case.” 

“No!” She insisted. She was a determined little thing. “I can do–” 

She never got to finish off her sentence because as she looked forward she caught sight of you smiling at her. 

“Y/N!” She squealed, case (and dad) immediately forgotten as she ran towards you. You weren’t expecting the wave of emotion that hit you when she wrapped her arms around your middle, face in your stomach, but it was there, and it got you right in the gut. You hugged her back. “You’re here,” she beamed up happily. 

“I am,” you grinned, swallowing back your wavering voice. 

“I missed you. It’s been ages.” 

You could always count on kids to be straightforward with their words. She was going to make you cry if she carried on like this. “I missed you too.” 

“It’s only been a week, sweetie,” you heard Seokjin say. 

Arin turned to him quickly. “It’s still a long time.” Then back at you. “I thought you’d never visit again.” 

You felt your heart constrict, and unsure what to do you looked over at Seokjin, finding him equally as afflicted by his daughter’s confession. Teacher mode activated then. “No, no. I was just... busy with work, that’s all.” 

You winced inwardly at your stupid excuse, not wanting to lie to her, but unable to really tell her the truth, especially at a time like this. 

On cue, you heard Nana’s voice greeting you. “Hi, Y/N.” 

You looked over to see her stood just behind Seokjin, a small smile on her face. She seemed a little nervous herself, which selfishly relaxed you. 

“Nana,” you smiled back, “hi.” 

Seokjin cleared his throat, taking a few steps towards his daughter and you. One look at him told you he was feeling the jitters too. This was brand new territory after all – for all of you. 

“Arin, why don’t you take your backpack upstairs and I’ll tell you when mommy is going home so you can say goodbye?” 

“Okay,” she agreed simply, pulling away from you to bound upstairs before she stopped abruptly. She turned back to Seokjin and ran forward with her arms forward. “Sorry, daddy. I forgot to hug you.” 

He chuckled, bending down to kiss her head before he ruffled her hair. “That’s okay. Now, unpack your things. I’ll bring your case up later.” 

She nodded, giving her mom a wave before her attention returned to you. “Will you still be here when I get back?”

“Of course,” you nodded, ignoring the fresh tug at your heartstrings. 

“She really likes you,” Nana observed just as you lost sight of Arin going up the staircase. 

You shook your head, chuckling as you replied modestly, “I don’t know about that.” 

“She does,” she insisted, smiling afterwards. “It’s nice to see. I’m glad she’s happy with everything.” 

You nodded, unsure what to respond with, but Seokjin saved the day. “Do you want something to drink?” 

Nana shook her hand. “I’m okay, thanks. I won’t stay long. I don’t want to interrupt your afternoon.” 

Seokjin gestured her to enter the room, then moved back to take your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he brought you forward, wanting you to go next, putting the hand on the small of your back instead now. His touch calmed you. 

“Sit,” he prompted Nana warmly, and she perched herself on the edge of the teal love seat. 

“I like what you’ve done with the place by the way,” she said politely, looking around. 

“You and me both know I just threw some new throw cushions down,” he laughed, attempting to ease the atmosphere.  

Nana joined in just as you sat down on the far end of the sofa. Instead of taking the seat next to you, Seokjin perched himself on the armrest, loosely throwing his arm around the backrest, fingers grazing your shoulder. 

Nana’s attention fell to you, her expression now serious. “Y/N, I want to apologise to you.” She began. “I was out of order last weekend. I was angry but that’s no excuse.” 

“I appreciate it,” you replied, finding your bearings. “I understand it was a shock to find out about me.” 

“It was, but I still acted embarrassingly.” She looked down at the floor, ashamed of herself. “To think that’s your first impression of me.”

She had said some terrible things, yes. Not only to you, but Seokjin too, but, Seokjin had also said plenty of cruel things back. You weren’t one to hold a grudge, especially if she was showing genuine remorse, which you believed to be the case. 

“We can start anew if you like?” You offered with a small smile. 

She visibly relaxed. “I’d like that.” Then she hesitated before deciding to carry on. “I meant what I said, it seems like Arin really likes you. I trust my daughter’s intuition.” 

“She really does,” Seokjin agreed with a hum, rubbing your shoulder. 

“She’s been talking about you over the weekend – not that I’ve been prying of course,” Nana was quick to clarify. “You’re good with her.” She looked you straight in the eyes. “Thank you for accepting my child.” 

You weren’t used to having this much praise and attention thrown your way, you didn’t really know what to say, but that was alright, you didn’t think Nana was looking for an outright response. You understood how important this was for her. She needed to trust the woman that spent time with her daughter, just like Seokjin had grown to trust you. It was slightly more difficult for her considering she wouldn’t be spending a lot of time in your company, so all she really had to go off was Arin’s opinion on you. It meant a lot to know she had given you a chance. Last week you had been afraid that might not be the case. 

You smiled gratefully. “She’s really special.” 

“Yes, Y/N says she’s a talented storyteller,” Seokjin mentioned soon after, helping the conversation along as if he could sense that you felt awkward with all the attention cast on you. He knew you too well. 

“Oh really?” Nana looked delighted, eyes on you as she waited for more information. 

You nodded, complimenting Arin coming easy to you. “The stories she wrote while I was her teacher were amazing.” 

“I have the copies somewhere if you want to read them yourself,” Seokjin offered. 

“I’d love that,” she beamed. “Thank you, Seokjin.” 

“No problem. I’ll find them this week.” 

Nana’s gaze happened to fall to Seokjin’s hand still comfortably on your shoulder then, and her smile faltered. In its place appeared guilt. “Listen, I... I hope I didn’t come in between you both because of last weekend.” She turned to you. “I know mine and Jin’s relationship seems toxic and it was until a few days but I,” she paused to glance at Seokjin, “I really want to change that.” 

“You know I do too,” he agreed. 

“I don’t want to fight anymore, or have things tense between us. We both love Arin.” She caught your eyes. “We all love Arin, so that’s the most important thing.” 

You looked down at your lap but nodded in agreement. Arin’s happiness was what mattered the most. 

“It is,” Seokjin replied. 

Nana smiled, satisfied, and stood up. “Okay, I should get going.” You both followed her, starting to walk towards the doorway. 

“Um, I managed to get that Wednesday afternoon free,” she told Seokjin, “is it okay if I collect Arin from school and take her for something to eat?”

“Of course. I know this great pizza place she loves if you want the name.” 

“She already told me about it,” Nana chuckled. “I think she was dropping hints, but directions would be great. Thanks, Jin.” 

“No problem.” He stopped by the staircase, voice raising quite a lot to reach Arin in her bedroom. “Arin, your mom’s leaving. Come say bye, sweetie.” 

In no time at all she was galloping down the stairs. “Will I see you Wednesday?” She asked her mom eagerly. 

“You betcha! How does pizza sound?”

“Yay, thank you, mom!” She squealed, going in for a hug as Nana bent down.  

“I’ll see you in a couple of days, okay, darling. I love you.” 

“I love you more,” Arin murmured sweetly, kissing her mother’s cheek. 

Nana kissed her back, chuckling. “Not possible, but okay.” Then she stood up, nodding to you and Seokjin with a small smile. “Bye both. I’ll see you Wednesday?” 

“See you Wednesday,” Jin confirmed. 

.

. 

You spent the afternoon playing board games together, Seokjin finding a bunch of his old collection in the attic and you had fun teaching Arin how to play, although she didn’t quite grasp the full idea of monopoly yet, wanting to buy everything in sight regardless of if she had enough money or not… It was funny to say the least, even more so when Seokjin was unable to refuse her, loaning her money from the bank time and time again. 

Where’s my special treatment, you’d teased quietly when Arin was distracted, secretly finding it adorable how much of a softie he was when it came to his daughter. 

“You know I’d buy you anything you want,” he’d replied with a grin, unable to stop himself from stealing a quick kiss. 

At around 6pm, you and Seokjin began preparing dinner for the three of you. Only you left him in charge for a little while when you followed after Arin who had gone to feed her rabbits, wanting time alone to talk with her. You hadn’t been able to stop feeling guilty about effectively lying to her earlier and after confiding in Seokjin about it while Arin was unpacking her suitcase, he’d suggested you speak to her about it. He agreed that honesty was the best policy from here on in (within reason, of course) and that she obviously understood something had been wrong last week else she wouldn’t have reacted the way she had when she’d seen you earlier this afternoon. 

She was only getting older and that meant as much transparency as possible when she was personally involved in something. She was at that age where these things would stick with her. Although hopefully nothing like last week would ever happen again. 

You stood by the doorway watching as she cooed and conversed with the Olive and Ariel at first, not wanting to interrupt. She was such a great little pet owner, making sure they were fed and watered enough, helping to clean their hutch, watching over them when they played outside. She adored them. 

After a few moments she noticed you. “Oh, Y/N,” she smiled, “is dinner ready?” 

You shook your head. “Not yet.” Stepping closer you joined her, watching the rabbits bound about. Seokjin had found the largest hutch imaginable. “Did you miss them?” 

“Yes, but daddy has been feeding them well.” 

You stifled a laugh, remembering Seokjin’s panic yesterday morning, but then crossed your arms, clearing your throat. “Hey, listen,” you began cautiously, feeling a little nervous. Arin looked up at you curiously. “Remember when I said I didn’t come over because I was busy with work?” 

She paused to think and then nodded. 

“I was lying actually, Arin.” 

Her eyebrows pinched together. “How come?”  

“Because… I didn’t want to worry you.” 

She took some time to process what you were saying before she shrugged matter-of-factly. “I was still pretty worried last week anyway.”

You smiled sadly. “I know, and I’m sorry about that. Your dad and I…” 

“Did you have an argument?” She was looking up at you curiously, finger playing with Olive and Ariel’s water bottle. 

“Something like that,” you nodded. “It was more of a disagreement.” 

“I thought so because daddy was sad all week.” 

Her honesty stabbed at your heart. 

“Were you sad too,” she asked. 

“Very.” 

“But you’re happy now?”

You smiled at her. “Yes, everything is all fine now. Me and your dad are happy.” 

She looked happy herself at that piece of information, relaxing visibly, but then she asked a question that caught you off guard. “Do you know if daddy and my mom are happy too?” 

“I think so.” You replied as vaguely as you could, not wanting to overstep the mark. But it didn’t feel right. You tried again. “I think things will be different from now on, Arin.” 

“I hope so. I hate it when they argue.” She sounded sad, her gaze cast to the floor. 

“I know. No one likes watching their parents fight.” you sympathised. 

“What about you and my mom?” She asked suddenly, changing the subject a little. “Are you happy?” 

“Yes, I think so.” You smiled at her. “I like your mom. She’s very pretty just like you.” 

Arin beamed and then added, “You’re pretty too.” 

You wrapped an arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t worry,” she almost whispered, “I won’t use that word again.” 

You were clueless for a moment, not understanding what she meant but then it hit you. She carried on. 

“Not until we all decide. Mommy said I might call you that one day if you want me to.” 

For the second time today you felt emotional, throat tight as you choked up suddenly. You composed yourself expertly though, taking a breath before you smiled and replied. “That’s right. There’s no rush for when we all decide.”  

Arin nodded along happily and you took her hand. 

“Should we go and check on daddy now? See if dinner’s ready?”

“I think so.” She agreed, her eyes rolling slightly. “Last week he set off the alarms because he burned my chicken nuggets.” 

“Oh, gosh,” you said, soon spluttering out a laugh. Arin joined in. Seokjin had failed to tell you that (hilarious) piece of information. “Well then, let’s hurry.” 

Seokjin was searching the pantry for something when you arrived back at the kitchen. “Hey,” he said, shooting a warm smile your way. “How’s my two favourite ladies?”

You looked down at Arin, wanting her to reply and she beamed at her father. “Happy.” 

You nodded in agreement, catching Seokjin’s eyes as you shared a private moment, silently telling him everything was fine now. He shot you a playful wink then, closing the door. “That’s funny, because I’m happy too.” 

You moved closer to him, collecting the messy ties of the apron he insisted on wearing whenever he was in the kitchen to retie them properly. “We were just checking in to see if the chef was burning dinner again…” 

With a surprised huff, he turned to his daughter, eyes wide. “Kim Arin did you tell tales on me?”

Arin erupted into a fit of giggles, you and Seokjin joining in immediately. “Maybe…” 

“It was an accident. Happens to the best of us,” he tried to defend. 

“Sure, sure.” 

Arin was greatly amused by your flippant response, but soon grew sympathetic towards her dad, stroking his elbow. “It’s okay, dad, I forgive you.” 

“That’s very kind of you,” he laughed. 

“Should I set the table?” 

“And that’s very sweet of you,” he added, eyes shooting wide. “Thank you.” 

You helped her get all the cutlery she needed and watched her leave for the dining room determinedly. But your attention soon got stolen away, pulled into Seokjin’s warmth as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You hooked yours around his middle. 

“Okay?” He murmured, checking in as he placed a kiss on your forehead. 

You looked up at him, a smile on your face and gave his waist a squeeze. 

“Okay.” You confirmed. 

Everything was more than okay, actually. 

Everything was perfect. 

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

[alrightberries]

dante’s inferno

request: wassup homie could you maybe write a college au fic where levi and reader are rommies, then one day reader brings home an adopted cat without levi's prior knowledge? You could decide what happens next lol. Tysm 🥺

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff, semi-crack ❈ word count: 4k

❈ summary: college au. in which you bring a stray cat to your dorm and your neat freak roommate won’t let you keep it.

alternatively: a compilation of college shenanigans where you and levi are best friends who are bad with feelings (ft. an unamused cat named dante)

❈ trigger warnings: profanity. mentions of alcohol and smoking. implied smut.

a/n: this was supposed to be loosely based on the nine circles of hell according to inferno by dante alighieri— hence the title— but i did my research wrong so now it’s loosely based on the seven terraces of purgatory according to divine comedy. i’m keeping the title tho.

Inspired by this art by @ryuichirou on tumblr.

Permission to repost art was granted by the artist. Do not repost/edit the art without explicit permission from the artist.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

i. first terrace: pride

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why?”

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why.”

Levi’s tongue clicks in annoyance. His eyes glance next you where the offending creature lay on your bed; tail curling, paws kneading at his your favorite fleece blanket. Quite frankly he’s a little offended when the little shit has the audacity to glare at him back.

He’ll never admit it, but his ego’s a bit bruised because the cat’s glare was slightly better than his.

“I said no,” he firmly replies, looking back to you. “It’s bad enough I have to share a room with an anarchist who has no respect for boundaries—“

“One time, I forgot to use a coaster that one time!”

“—and now you expect me to share a room with a dirty fur ball who does nothing but eat, shit, and sleep?”

“He’s a cat, Levi.” You murmur, scooping the cat into your arms. “And he has a name,” you give a nervous smile when you see your rommate grit his teeth. He feels a headache coming.

“You named it?”

“Dante is not an ‘it’.”

Levi makes a move to step closer but immediately stops when the ‘Dante’ hisses at him.

“Aw, he likes you.” You coo.

“Clearly,” he replies unenthusiastically. “Listen,” he sighs. “I respect your cat’s pronouns but that doesn’t mean he’s allowed to stay. Or do I need to remind you of the mac and cheese incident?”

Okay, maybe he was on to something. If you got caught with a pet in the dorms you’d breach your third and final warning, and you’d be forced to dorm off-campus. The fact that you were still here after the mac and cheese incident was solely because Levi pulled some strings (aka asked Erwin, golden boy of the campus who owed him a favor, to pull some strings).

But you couldn’t just let Dante go. There was something about him that felt so familiar; something about his black fur, thin silver eyes, unamused snarl, and overall grumpy demeanor. Especially endearing was the way he’d grumble and pretend to be annoyed whenever you tried to cuddle him but would complain if you stopped.

You just couldn’t figure out who or what he reminded you of.

Maybe you would’ve figured it out too if you weren’t so distracted with watching Levi and Dante stare at each other. Your eyes dart back and forth between the grouchy cat sitting on your bed and your grouchy roommate sitting on his desk. Both were slightly crouched over with their heads tilted up in a show of dominance; they were engaged in what seemed to be a glaring contest, gunmetal irises unamused and mouths taut in a snarl as they protected their territory.

You sigh. You really, for the life of you, couldn’t figure out why Dante felt so familiar.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

ii. second terrace: envy

Levi is not jealous. He’s not.

At least that’s what he tells himself as he sulks alone on his bed. His arms are crossed and his lips are in a pout, eyebrows knitted in distaste, occasionally glancing to your side of the room where you sat up on your bed. He’s sure whatever movie you chose to watch together is interesting and all, but right now all he could pay attention to was that stupid cat. Sitting on your stupid lap. Getting its fur stroked by your stupid hand. Getting all the love and affection his stupid self should be receiving.

It was him you should be cuddling, not Dante. Saturday nights were reserved for him and you, not you and a cat while he happened to be in the room. He’s been trying to make a move on you since high school and he can’t fucking believe he’s losing your attention to a cat. Sure, he’s always been too chicken to make a move and had to suffer seeing you get together with assholes— as per your type during your emo high school days— but this was a new low. He can’t wrap his head around the concept that he’s losing his longterm crush to a motherfucking cat.

When you coo at how adorable the fleabag was for what felt like the 50th time that night, Levi decides he’s had enough of the cuddle-hogging piece of shit.

Wordlessly, he crosses to your side of the room and lifts the cat from its perch, ignoring your protests as he sets it down on the floor and tells it to ‘scram, you little fuck.’ He uses a hand to dust your lap free of any microscopic cat particles Dante probably left behind before lying down his head down once he was satisfied. He grabs your hand to put it on his hair.

“Stroke.” He orders, eyes closing.

“What? No! You pushed off Dante.”

“He was in my spot.”

“You couldn’t have given up your lap pillow for one night?”

“One night?” He scoffs and turns to look at you. “You’ve been abandoning me for two weeks. That disgusting, tic-infested, rabies-carrying slob has no business sitting on your lap.”

“He’s not disgusting, you gave him a shower before you agreed to let me keep him. And I took him the vet to make sure he had all his shots. He’s clean, Levi.”

“Tch, good. Now throw him out and let him find someone else to freeload from.”

“Okay, what’s going on?” You guffaw. “You’ve been grumpier than usual. And why’re you being such an ass to Dante? He’s just a cat.”

“Don’t think he’s special in some way. I’m an ass to everyone.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re always extra mean to him?”

He doesn’t reply. His lips are downturned into a frown when he looks away with a click of his tongue, and you realize with a sigh you won’t be getting an answer from your cryptic roommate soon. Your fingers start mindlessly stroking his undercut when you get lost in your thoughts— a habit you developed through years of Levi using your lap as a pillow. He always complained the first few times you did it but you knew it calmed both him and you, and that it put both your minds at ease. Moreso Levi right now, apparently.

You’re keenly aware of how he seems to curl up into you the more you keep going. You watch as his shoulders slump down when you stroke the side of his face, and his eyebrows relax slightly. From your angle, you could even see the way his eyes close in content. Maybe even a tiny smile if you were being delusional.

Your lip twitches upward.

“Oh my god, Levi, are you jealous of a cat?”

“Shut up and play with my hair.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iii. third terrace: wrath

“You owe me a new cravat.”

You blink up at your roommate. “What?”

“You owe me a new cravat.” He repeats. He pulls from his pocket a white piece of fabric— barely recognizable— torn into shreds, releases it mid-air. It gently lands on your open palm.

“Wait, did Dante do this?” You ask, eyeing the slik in your hands.

“Unless you went feral in the middle of the fucking night and decided to cut up my clothes, yes.”

“Oh my god, Levi, I’m so sorry. I swear Dante will never—“

“You actually owe me three cravats,” he interjects. “The first two I overlooked since they weren’t that expensive but I draw the line here.” His lips are downturned into a frown, eyes poorly concealing his clear distaste. “This one’s my favorite and it was made from silk.”

You eye the fabric in your hands once more before nodding in understanding, setting down the once beautiful cravat before taking out your wallet. It was only fair that you paid him back; he was being more than generous with letting your cat stay and keeping it a secret, and now you wonder how many bad things Dante’s done that Levi’s overlooked or simply never brought up with you.

“Sure, I’m really sorry. How much do I owe you?”

Levi doesn’t say anything. Instead he pulls out his phone and types something on what you could only assume was google, most likely looking for the same brand of the cravat your cat had just torn into shreds. You weren’t entirely sure how much those could cost, but surely you could afford—

“What the fuck!” You screech, eyeing the page with very, very hefty price tags listed. Holy fucking hell where did he even get the money to buy something so expensive. Gulping, you nervously look up at your unimpressed roommate. You already knew he was taking it easy on you; his aura was the only thing intimidating, at least he wasn’t giving you the murder eyes. And even though he was a man of his word, you were thankful he hasn’t reported Dante.

Still, it didn’t change the fact that Levi looked pissed beyond belief.

“Uhm... can I pay you with a check that’ll definitely bounce?”

“You will pay me in cash.”

“Fuck, fine!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iv. fourth terrace: sloth

Levi silently works on his desk. His laptop’s open in fromt of him, numerous notes from classes and books from the library surrounding him. The gentle sounds of clicking and clacking echoe throughout the room as fingers typed at the keyboard, eyes concentrated and lips pulled taught as he focuses on his task. He’s on a roll. He’s almost done with this part of his research, nothing could snap him out of this, he just needs to—

“Levi, when do you think Dante will come back to me?”

He stops typing and grits his teeth.

This is how it’s been the entire night. Ten minutes of peace before you ask him some stupid questions that could’ve been answered with common sense.

“Fuck if I care.”

“Do you think it was something I did?”

He resumes typing. “Yes.”

“Do you think he’ll come back?”

“No.”

“Even after all we’ve been through?”

“Still no.”

“I miss him,” you sigh. “I miss him so much.”

“Then you shouldn’t have left the door open.”

It’s been a week since Dante escaped the dorm and Levi doesn’t understand why you’re still so depressed about it. I mean, you only lost a cat that you loved and treasured and treated like family. Surely a week of moping around in your pajamas and eating nothing but chips and soda was catharsis enough.

He hears you shift in your burrito blanket, presumably to turn away from him so you can sulk into the wall next to your bed. Good. Now he can get back to working on—

“Levi do you think Dante-“

“Enough.” He grits, slamming his laptop shut.

“Where’re you going?” You ask, eyeing the way he hurriedly stuffs papers and books into his bag along with his laptop.

“Out.” He replies, grabbing his keys and his coat. “I can’t stand this shit anymore.”

Your head is burried in your blankets when he slams the door shut and all you could do was slump down because great. You lost Dante, and now you’ve royally pissed off Levi.

Great. Just fucking great.

Unlike your cat, however, your roommate comes back hours later, just before curfew. He doesn’t bother with a hello— he never does— and neither do you, opting to stay hidden underneath the sheets. Though suddenly, there’s a dip in the mattress followed by a pur next to your head.

Could it be?

“Dante?” You murmur, lifting your head from underneath your cocoon of fabric. Small black paws and silver eyes meet your gaze. “Dante!” Immediately sitting up, you pulled him to your lap, scratching his little head and cooing about how much you missed him as he purred and curled into to you.

Levi would never say it, but he missed seeing you smile at the little fleabag.

You turn to look at your roommate. “How’d you find him?”

“Asked around the campus. He wandered into another dorm building and probably thought it was ours.”

“Well yeah but... I thought you hated him?”

“I do.” He replies instantly.

“Then why’d you find him?”

“I hate him, not you.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

v. fifth terrace: avarice

“I fucking hate both of you,” Levi grumbles, staring at the dorm.

Towers of boxes lined his supposed to be clean dorm room. He had a hard time prying the door open since it was blocked, and he wasn’t even sure how the boxes weren’t blocking out the light from how high they were piled. Dante’s sat on a stack of box directly next to the door, purring and flicking his tail around. Levi squints his eyes and glares at the little shit.

“You especially.”

“Mrow?”

Levi’s day had been, with no irony or sarcasm at all, amazing. He got a good grade on his research paper; the guy in front of him at the cafe accidentally ordered an extra serving of (coincidentally, Levi’s favorite) tea and gave it to him for free; and he got full marks for the presentation he’s been worrying about for weeks. His class even got dismissed early so he had an extra hour for lunch. He knew you didn’t have classes, so in honor of his great day he thought he’d do something nice and take you out for lunch. His treat, of course.

But any trace of his good mood vanished when he went back to the dorms and got greeted to a room that looked like it came from an episode of Hoarders.

This is what he gets for trying to be nice.

“Levi! Is that you?” You called out.

“What the fuck happened?”

You laugh sheepishly— at least Levi thinks you do. He couldn’t see you beyond the hundred boxes that took up your shared room. He hears some rustling and the sound of things being moved around before finally your head pops out from behind a wall of brown, smiling at him apologetically before walking towards him (and tripping a few times).

“Remember when I said I’d order some toys for Dante as a surprise?”

Levi’s eye twitches. “Don’t tell me—”

“I accidentally ordered 10,000 instead of 10. Online shopping struggles, am I right?” You nervously chuckle at his pissed off face. Levi was not in the mood.

Your smile widens as you make twinkly gestures with your hands. “So uh... surprise?”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vi. sixth terrace: gluttony

The clinic is still when you first entered.

The harsh smell of alcohol and sterile metal makes your nose grimace, and the coldness of the thermostat brings goosebumps to your arms. Behind the wall, somewhete in the waiting room, cats are hissing, dogs are barking, and you could even hear the sound of birds angrily chirping and rattling their cages.

Dante cowers in fear on the silver table, and your heart aches. His ears are down and his fur’s standing on its ends, but you couldn’t comfort him. Not right now, at least. The veterinarian still needed to do a few more checks.

You gulp, “how’s... how’s Dante looking, doc?”

“Not good,” she murmurs. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and she takes a deep sigh as she eyes the information on the chart. “It’ll take months before he can walk properly again, possibly more if we don’t do anything about it soon.”

“Don’t tell me... is he—-”

“I’m sorry, my dear,” she sighs. “But your cat is heavily obese.”

The corners of your lips twitch down into a frown, and your palm is warm when you start to stroke Dante’s fur. He calms down a bit from your touch, less on edge but still guarded as he warily eyes the doctor’s gloved hands.

“But I don’t understand,” you reply. “I’ve been following the recommended diet you put him on, and I haven’t been feeding him anything other than the cat food and vitamins you recommended. How’s he still obese?”

“Well, we could look into other solutions, but for now I think we ought to look at whether or not Dante has an underlying health problem.”

Levi tunes out the chatter between you and the vet, bored eyes staring into nothing. He’s leaning against a wall and he’s watching the cat carrier. Your bag’s slung over his shoulders and your coat’s in his arms, and he was sure you didn’t even need him to be here for “moral support.”

He mentally scoffs. You probably just needed a chauffeur to drive you for free, and honestly, Levi would rather feel like a chauffeur than a coat rack.

His eyes make contact with Dante’s, and all the fear in the cat’s eyes is suddenly gone, replaced with a steely glare and bared teeth. A warning, one no one else notices but him.

Levi gives him a solitary nod, understanding what Dante wanted to say.

Don’t tell Y/N I’ve been sneaking to the neighbors.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vii. seventh terrace: desire

There’s something about the buzz of alcohol and nicotine that makes Levi confident—- the liquid courage in his veins and the smoke in his lungs clouding his judgement. Perhaps that’s where he finally gets the balls to cross the room, drunken eyes on your equally intoxicated ones, before he pulls you in for a kiss.

The kiss starts slow, with lips just interlocking and lightly testing the waters. But then he feels your tongue make its way inside his mouth and your fingers weave into his hair to tug him closer, and Levi loses the last threads of inhibition he has. His tongue massages yours and one of his arm wraps around your waist, the other comes down to grope and knead your ass. He feels you walk backwards and your hand pulls at his tie, dragging him with you. Suddenly he’s trapping you against a wall, lifting one of your legs up to wrap around his hips so he could grind his crotch into yours.

Levi doesn’t expect his first kiss with you to be like this; messy and full of tongue and spit, full of fingers clawing at clothes and small grunts escaping your lips. He was hoping it’d be more romantic, with warm cheeks and fingers softly intertwining, shy kisses exchanged through little smiles.

But he’s not about to complain—- he’s wanted to be with you for years, and god he loved having you like this. Loved having you all hot and desperate, trapped between his firm chest and the wall. His cock is hard in his pants, and he just about growls when he feels you start to undo his belt, the fly of his pants coming down as you got on your knees and stared up at him with innocent eyes as you pull out his aching boner. There’s a cheeky grin your face when you pump at his length, and your tongue peaks out of your mouth before—

“Levi, are you okay?”

His eyes snap open, and he’s greeted to the sight of your worried face directly above his.

“Fuck!” he yells, and his forehead slams into yours when he flinches away. “Sorry, sorry” he quickly ammends when you yelp in pain.

He’s covered in sweat, he notices. Chest heaving, heart beating a little too loud for his liking, and he silently pulls the blankets over his cum stained boxers when you sit beside him.

God, he was really hoping you wouldn’t notice the fact that he came in his pants like a high schooler. And it was before dream you even got to suck him off. How much more pathetic could he be.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and you nod.

“Yeah, m’fine, it’s just...” your eyes are distracted, staring off into space. Fingers trace his thighs, and you sigh. “You were having a nightmare,”

Levi blinks. “What?”

“You were having a nightmare,” you repeat. “Kept tossing and turning and groaning in your sleep. And you kept making these... funny faces,”

“...right,” he nods. Sure, a nightmare. A nightmare he never wanted to wake up from.

It takes about ten minutes to reassure you that yes, he was fine, don’t mind the way his cheeks are flushed, he was just... shaken up from his nightmare, is all. Then you’re back to bed, sleeping the night away, and twenty minutes later he’s on his way back to bed too; this time with a fresh pair of boxers and a content look on his face, all thanks to him finishing off his fantasies in the communal bathroom during his shower.

The door makes a quiet click when he shuts it behind him, and he freezes when he catches sight of Dante sat up on your bed, tail flicking behind him as he gives Levi a knowing look.

Levi squints his eyes, and he threateningly whispers, “you tell no one.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

epilogue

The half empty room brings a frown to your face, and all you could do was pout as you sealed up the last of the boxes.

“Why do you have to leave again?” you ask, and Levi turns around as he finishes folding the last of his clothes. He shrugs. “Cats aren’t allowed in the dorms.”

You owed him your entire college career, that much was sure. The RA’s found out about Dante, and Levi had taken the fall to spare you. He wasn’t required to move out since it was only his first strike, but he insisted on doing so so that Dante wouldn’t be alone, saying he already found an apartment nearby and he’ll never hear the end of it from you if he didn’t take Dante with him.

Bullshit. Levi had a soft spot for Dante, you knew that much. He wasn’t doing it for you, he was doing it for himself. Though normally you’d be overjoyed to know that Levi really did secretly like the cat he pretended to hate so much, this time, you were just pissed. You couldn’t believe a fucking cat was stealing away the guy you’ve been in love with since high school. Sure, you were too much of a coward to ask him out, but he was basically your boyfriend already—- the entire campus knew you inadvertently had dibs on each other.

“Yeah but... do you have to leave me alone?”

“I asked you to come with me, and you said no.” He points out. “I still don’t see why when we’ve been roommates since we were freshmen.”

“It’s different off-campus!”

“How?”

“Because it’s like... it’s like we’re moving in together, y’know?” you reply. “And it seemed wrong to move in with you when we’re not even dating.”

“Let’s do it, then.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighs, handing you a spare key to what you could only assume was his new apartment. You glance between him and the key in your hands, and he rolls his eyes when he realizes that you still don’t get it.

“I know we’re doing this backwards since couples don’t typically move in before the first date,” he says before gesturing to Dante. “But we already have a son, and I know you’re his favorite parent. We can share custody until you can move in with me.”

You blink. “What?” Your brain stopped working when Levi referred to you as a couple, and you’re pretty sure your heart stopped beating too. At this point, anything he said went in one ear and out the other. He flicks your forehead.

“Hey— ow! What was that for?”

“You weren’t listening.”

“And you’re being a prick!” you grumble. “It hurts, y’know.”

He scoffs. “What do you want me to do? Kiss it better?” he scoffs.

Your mouth moves faster than your brain, “I’d rather you kiss me.”

Wait. What?

Before you could go back on your words, Levi shrugs. Warm palms gently grab your cheeks, pulling your face closer to his. Your eyes widen and you momentarily freeze, brain definitely not working anymore. He hesitates when you don’t make a move, but then you’re shyly leaning forward, and that was all the confirmation Levi needs.

“If you insist,” he whispers, and suddenly your words die on your tongue when his lips interlock with yours.

alrightberries © 2020. do not modify or repost.

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[hoodieofholland]

Okay, what Im requesting really angst so I get if you don’t want write,

boyfriend!Tom starting to feel things to his co-star while y/n is waiting for him to come back to her and when he coms back he tells her the turth. She runs pf with tears and have a serious car crash and Tom regrets what he did and blames himself for her injures.

(Oh god I love jerk Tom so much)

(love your writings <3)

a/n: took a little while to write this, but it's done, finally! Hahah. Feels like ive been writing a lot of angst lately lol, what you guys think? Thanks anon for requesting, hope you like it!

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating, heartbreak, mentions of blood, car accident, language.

Broken. That’s how you felt, staring into those brown chocolate eyes, full of regret, guilt and fear. Your heart clenches inside of your chest, desperately trying to find some sort of comfort while your heartbeat only seems to increase each second you pass looking at him.

“What?”, your voice is cracked. Your eyes are glistening with the threatening tears.

You still can hear the reverberation of his words inside of your head: I think I’m having feelings for someone else. Someone else. His co-star. Tom had just admitted to you he was having feelings for his co-star.

You and Tom have been in a relationship long enough to know this would inevitably break your heart into pieces. Those words didn’t even make sense to you. Though both of you were feeling a little off lately, like your relationship wasn’t the same anymore, you were sure this was just a phase, you were willing to bring you two back on track. But right now you could see you were the only one with hope and this made you feel ashamed of just standing in front of Tom, feeling extremely exposed and weak.

He sniffles, averting his gaze to the ground. “I- I’m so sorry, y/n. I didn’t mean to blurt it like that, it’s just-“

You blink your tears away, your whole body shaking slightly, not under your control anymore. Your hands close into fists as you try to control your emotions and the unbearable pressure on your chest. “What is it, Tom? What is happening? I- I can’t understand, I thought-“, you didn’t even know what to say. You bite your lips to prevent you from crying. “Since... since when, Tom?”

He breathed out, cheeks buffing as he runs his hands through his curls. “I don’t know. Honestly”, his voice was full of sadness, “I just- I realized it today”.

You feel your knees getting weaker. “Did you-“, you gulp, too afraid to ask, “Did you cheat on me, Tom? Did you do something with her? Did she touch you? Did you touch her?”

Though you knew pretty well none of that was important anymore, that betraying your feeling while still together was equally as bad as kissing or sleeping with someone else, you couldn’t ignore the feeling that physical contact would make the whole thing worse. You couldn’t stand the thought of being there, waiting for Tom to come home and maybe have a nice dinner so you could enjoy time together and make things work out again, while he was out there fucking another girl.

But he shook his head no, and you released a sigh in relief. He had a frown between his brows, genuinely hurt by the path of that conversation. “I’d never, y/n”, he rubbed his eyes. “I know this doesn’t make me a better of a man, but I- I swear to God I just realized it now. It was today, when we were filming and... and I couldn’t go another minute without telling you this. This is so fucked up and I am so fucking sorry, but I thought that it would be better for both of us if I just told you this and-“

A sob coming from your parted lips breaks his attempt to explain, watching you fall apart for something he has done. Tom didn't stop loving you. It felt different, but he still cared about your feelings and how you'd deal with the fact that your relationship wasn't working anymore. He felt guilty and even disgusted at himself for breaking your heart. But that didn't stop him neither.

"Can we talk about this, darling?", he mumbles, trying to reach your hand, but you step back, body trembling as you fight back the need of giving in to his embrace.

"Don't. Don't call that", you cry out, letting the tears fall freely on your cheeks now. "Fuck, Tom, what did I do? I didn't deserve this. I- I was by your side, I never left. I knew this day would come, but I was trying my best..."

"It's not like that, y/n", he mutters, feeling defeated. He didn't intend to take it this way. He never wanted to make you cry. He promised he would never make you cry. "I've tried. And I love you, I love you so fucking much, but I... I don't know what happened".

You wipes the tears away furiously, too frustrated to care about the look on your face right now. You just didn't want to look fragile, or broken, or weak - all of the things you actually were feeling like.

You look at him clearer, the man you so desperately love, the man you most felt affection to. Tom was everything you always dreamt of. If there was a man you could say you trusted in, it was Tom. And he betrayed your feelings.

It wasn't his fault and you had to admit that. He fell for another woman. He just didn't feel the same about you anymore, and though you were suffering, you couldn't blame it on him. It was just human nature. Life itself, playing tricks on you, when you so certainly believed to have found the love of your life.

"I know", you say through hoarse voice. "I can't blame it on you. It's not your fault. I just- I thought we could work this out, y'know? Thought you wanted this with me". You give him a sad smile and couldn't help but let more tears roll down your face. You felt pathetic and you were sure you looked just like that.

Tom swallows the thick knot on his throat, chest aching at the sign of you. He wanted to say something, but couldn't think about anything good enough.

Ashamed of your position, you nod a couple of times for nothing in special and make your way to the front door.

"Wait! Y/n, what are you- where are you going?", Tom shouted, eyes wide as he tried to take your arm. You pulled it from his reach and raised your hand to prevent him from coming any closer.

"I'm leaving. What else do you expect me to do, Tom?" With bloodshot eyes, you stare at him, lips pressed tightly in a thin line, holding everything in you to not make even more a fool of yourself.

"I don't know", he almost whispers.

You can't seem to contain the growing anger inside of you for his words, sobbing a little more as you try to come up with the right thing to say. Why does he have to do this to you?

"Guess what? I don't know neither. All of a sudden, my long-term boyfriend told me he is falling for another girl. Do you know how much it costs me to look at you right now, Tom? I can't even- I fucking hate you right now and I know it's not even your fucking fault, but I can't help it!" You scream, hand covering your mouth as you try to regain some composure. "Just leave me fucking alone, Tom!"

Without another word, you run to the front door, yanking it open and slamming it shut, letting your whines finally scape through your gritted teeth.

---

Tom checked his phone one more time before slipping into the covers and lay down on his empty bed, facing the ceiling for a long enough time to get sick of it.

His mind was running wild, thinking about the things he said to you, and the thing you said to him. It was hard to face the fact that he made you cry and feel miserable. Tom never intended that. He knew both of you were slipping apart, gradually giving your relationship an end, but that was a whole different level.

He closed his eyes, thinking about the moment you stormed out the door, thinking about the feeling he had previously in the morning, while working with his co-star. It wasn't the strongest thing he felt in his life, it wasn't even near to the things he felt when meeting you, but he knew he should be honest with you from the moment he realized there was something going on.

But even know, he felt like he messed it up real bad.

Tom has been calling you since you stepped out of the house, but you never answered, or called back. He left a message in your voicemail, asking you to come back home so you could talk. Aware of the fact that this had no coming back, Tom just needed to look at you one more time and apologise for being a dick. He couldn't afford to have you out of his life.

And then his phone rang.

He was quick to pick it up and press to his ear, waiting to hear your voice, but what he heard was something much more unexpected.

"Hello, can I please speak with Thomas Stanley?", an unrecognizable voice came to the phone and Tom sat on his bed.

"Uh, yes, it's me. What's the matter?"

"I'm calling because you're at Miss y/n y/l/n's emergency contact. She was brought to the hospital after an accident, a car crash. Miss y/n is passing through an emergency surgery right now and I need to inform someone in the family..."

The woman kept talking, voice too steady for something so breath-taking. Tom was surely out of breath. For a few seconds, he felt like he had gone blind, not able to see anything besides a black spot in the darkness of his room.

He couldn't believe he was hearing that. It couldn't be real. He tried to come up with any excuse, with some explanation, but everything that ever crossed his mind at the moment was the sign of you laying flat on some ciment busy street, blood coming out of the corner of your mouth and eyes wide open with no brightness on them.

"Sir?", the woman spook again and Tom was snapped out of his thoughts.

"Can you give me the address?", he jumped out of bed and started to look for his keys frantically. The woman gave him instructions and he quickly made his way to the living room.

"Fuck... where 'my fucking keys!" He yelled desperately, throwing the pillows on the sofa go the ground to look better. "Fuck!"

Tom sat on the couch, heavy breathing making his whole body shake. His hands holds his head and his eyes go wide. He felt a heat rise in every part of his body, but mainly on his chest.

It was his fault, he knew it. You were supposed to be at home, you were supposed to stay with him. You were going to have dinner together, and you wouldn't be driving before having a car crash.

Why did he mess up? Why did he say those things to you? He shouldn't have let you go outside in that state. He shouldn't

Tom heard the front door crack open, and he raised his head with silly hopes of you stepping inside and all of this being a fucking cruel joke, but instead, it was Harrison passing by.

"Tom, I was just going to- Dude, what happened?" Harrison puts a worried face when he saw the bloodshot eyes, trembling lips and shaking hands, all parts of Tom's nervousness.

He almost couldn't put his voice to work, and if it wasn't for the fact that he needed to reach out the hospital in no time, to make sure you were fine, maybe he wouldn't be able to say a single word.

"You gotta drive me. I can't- I can't find my keys. And she needs me. I need her. I need to find her, Haz. She- fuck, she needs me and I can't find my fucking keys", he said in desperation, letting himself become a sobbing mess in front of his friend.

---

There was no small talk between the two of them whilst the drive to the hospital. It seemed like you have done a long way from home; the distance was killing the eye browned boy.

All that was on his mind now was the thought of you - moments you've spent together, days of happiness and things that he loved about you. He remembered the first time you met, the day he asked you out and the first time he heard you say you loved him. He questioned himself when was the last time you said that, when he heard his name coming out of your lips with an "I love you" next. He couldn't remember and he felt disgusting for that too.

Because Tom realized in the way to the hospital that he couldn't live without you. If you were gone, there would be nothing. He never thought about this day, never thought that one day he'd be losing you, but the bare possibility of this happening made him realize he wouldn't stand it. He needed you, in more ways than just one.

"She'll be fine, Tom", Harrison told him for the third time, when they were sitting in a corridor, waiting for a doctor to call for Tom when you were brought to the room.

"'S all my fault. Shouldn't have fought her. Shouldn't have let her think I didn't love her", Tom muttered more to himself, voice hoarse.

Tom was bouncing his leg rapidly, eyes closed tightly an heart aching for every second he spent without any medic information.

"Mr. Holland?" A voice came next to him, a doctor, a comphreensive smile on his face, which eased Tom a little bit. "Miss y/n is in her room now, you can check on her".

Tom got up immediately, rubbing his sweaty hands on his jeans while walking down the aisle with the doctor to your room. When he reached the place with white walls, white sheets and an audible beep from the machine that was monitoring your heartbeat.

"She's asleep right now, might wake up in about an hour or so. Then a nurse should come check on her", the doctor says, reading through some papers on his clipboard. He sighs lightly and look at Tom, whose eyes are glue on you. "I might say she was lucky, Mr. Holland. It was a serious accident, and others victims didn't have as much luck as Miss y/n", he friendly pats Tom's shoulder. "Don't know what you believe in, but I think you should be thankful. She's a strong girl, she'll be fine", he smiled and after a few seconds, left Tom and you alone in the room, closing the door behind him.

Tom was hesitant, taking small steps towards your bed as he looked cautiously every part of you body. You had some big injuries on your face. There was a bandage on your nose, which was broken when you entered the emergency. Your lips had cuts and there was a purple spot on your forehead and around one of your eyes.

Tom felt sick to his stomach thinking about how much pain you had gone through the last hours. He stood beside your bed, taking your fragile looking hands on his. It was bruised too, and Tom pressed a very light kiss to your palm, letting a silent tear roll down his face till reach his chin.

"I'm so sorry, my love", he whispered with a croaky voice. "You'll be fine, it's gonna be alright", he reassured, more to himself than to you, who was drifted on sleep now, too far from the chaos that was going on outside.

Tom sniffles, rubbing a hand on his wet nose, and blinks a couple of times to get rid of his tears. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I know it's my fault. And I was wrong".

He breathed out, looking at the ceiling as he remembered your conversation that evening. "There's no one I love more than you, y/n. It was dumb of me thinking that there's anyone I might be in love with besides you. It's only you, love, you're the person I can't live without".

Tom felt like a kid, crying over your hand, squeezing it ever so lightly and praying that you might hear his apologies and his pleas.

"And it was unfair of me not putting as much effort as you in this relationship. This is my fault too. But I love you, and I don't care about anything else, your love is the only thing I'm going to focus on when you wake up".

Tom realized that nothing was more important than your relationship to him now. Not even work, which has taken so much of his time that he was slowly slipping apart from you. Not even whatever feeling he fooled himself to believe in. It wasn't true. It was his fear of not being in love with you anymore, of being too far to bring you two together again. But by that moment, Tom knew he couldn't be afraid of nothing else than losing you. And now he just prayed that you could forgive him and the things he said, while he left himself fall in tears and regret.

********

Taglist:

@dreamy-clousds @pinkrockstar19 @onyourgoddamnleft

@spideyspeaches @miraclesoflove @heavenlyholland

@zspideyy @marlenetough @nsxvision

@xoxohollands @siriuslyslyslytherin @mathletemadison

[vanserraseris]

END OF PART IX - I refuse to believe that there is no Autumn Court equivalent for Calanmai, so they celebrate Samhain. Just a warning that Eris is high and drunk for quite a bit of this part and there are a bunch of other people there that are high and drunk as well. Thanks for reading!

lol yeah ive always wondered about calanmai in other courts!!! i love this idea sm

Prince of Ashes. Part IX.

masterlist.

*changed Samhain to Autumn Equinox

Eris felt long fingers drag through his hair, felt nails scrape down his chest, felt lips trace the curve of his throat. Eris leaned his head back on the shoulder of the male behind him, not bothering to stop his moan. The female between his legs licked his neck, the other one at his side, fingers still tangled in his hair, pulled his head towards her. Eris smiled against her lips.

He briefly thought of everything he had to do, a million things he’d been ordered to do, but as soon as the thought entered his mind the sound of someone speaking wrenched his thoughts from it all. “Tell us, my prince, what you want,” the male’s voice was low, silken, as he murmured the words, his lips pressed to the arch of Eris’s ear.

Eris laughed, a snorting funny thing, eyes crinkled with joy and cheeks flushed, “I’m not sure.” Eris wanted many things. His eyes fluttered shut as one of the females placed her hand above the waistband of his pants, the other female pulling his shirt open with curious fingers, the male kissing the sensitive spot behind his ear.

“Eris?”

Eris’s eyes snapped open at the sound of Lucien’s voice, he grinned up at his youngest brother, “My greatest burden,” he beamed, but his words sounded funny, as if they were being dragged out of his mouth. Eris breathed a small giggle, his head feeling heavy as he leaned it back again with a sigh. Eris purred as someone’s hands traced the sharp lines of his collarbones. He should have been embarrassed that such a sound had escaped him, but he actually found it quite funny.

“Stop that,” Lucien growled.

Everyone around him froze, and Eris cackled, “Don’t listen to him,” he managed between his laughter, “No one listens to him.”

“Cauldron boil me,” Lucien mumbled to no one in particular.

“Well, that doesn’t sound very pleasant,” Eris felt Lucien grab his arm.

“Get up,” Lucien said, voice serious. Eris didn’t understand why his brother was in such a foul mood.

“Must you ruin our fun,” said the male behind Eris, his hands still on Eris’s chest.

“Yes I must,” Lucien said matter of factly. Lucien hauled Eris onto his feet, one of Eris’s arms around his shoulders as he kept his older brother upright.

“Awwwww, don’t go, prince,” one of the females pouted.

Eris flashed her a grin, “Later.” A promise he didn’t necessarily intend to keep, but he liked the way she giggled at his conspiratory wink in her direction.

“What the actual fuck,” Lucien was glowering, “Are you doing?”

Lucien had gotten very tall, Eris noticed, “Having fun.”

“Looks like you’ve succumbed to madness.” Eris had never felt so happy, he didn’t mind that Lucien had just insulted him. “You know you shouldn’t be doing things like that in the middle of the fucking courtyard,” Lucien sounded much too serious, “Father might see you.”

“I was off to the side,” Eris corrected, a stupid smile still on his face.

“And what of everyone else in the courtyard?” Lucien hissed.

“It doesn’t matter on this day,” Eris nodded, speaking to Lucien as if he should have known. “That’s sort of the point of it, wouldn’t you agree?”

Lucien ignored his brother’s question and asked him another one. “Have you forgotten that we need to be ready in less than a couple hours for the most important holiday of the Autumn Court?”

“No,” Eris pushed himself off of Lucien, “I have not.” Eris had loved the Autumn Equinox in his youth, he’d been able to try new things - do whatever he wanted to do - all with the excuse that the day’s magic was the cause, but things had changed once he’d gotten a little older. And while he had been feeling very happy a moment before, he was feeling troubled now. He shook his head, shaking away those negative emotions and trying to stay balanced and upright on his own.

“Eris—”

“I’m fine,” Eris smiled again, but Lucien did not return his grin. Eris wasn’t shocked, Lucien was being very boring. Eris only managed to walk a couple steps beside Lucien before he fell to the ground, laughing the whole time. He curled the fingers of one hand into the grass, nails digging into soft earth, the other hand went to his stomach. Sprawled on his back and staring up at the sky, Eris was shaking with silent laughter, he couldn’t help it.

Lucien’s concerned face appeared in his line of sight. Eris stopped laughing rather abruptly. Lucien, the rays of the sun shining behind his head, made it look as though he had a halo of light surrounding him. Eris couldn’t shake the feeling that Lucien looked very familiar, the person Lucien looked like right at the front of Eris’s mind… Lucien knelt down next to his oldest brother, “Eris, you alright?”

Eris grinned, “I’ve never been better, fox.” Eris was still half on the ground, but he sat up, Lucien and him nearly at eye level.

Lucien placed a hand on Eris’s shoulder, biting the inside of his cheek, before he spoke. “You’re really out of it, aren’t you? Just absolutely wasted?”

“I am not,” Eris assured him.

“If I ask you something, you’ll answer honestly?”

“You know what they say,” Eris thought Lucien’s hair looked very bright, and he raised a hand to touch it. “Only madmen and drunkards tell the truth.”

“I think Rufus is the only one who says that.” Lucien’s brows furrowed, his young face troubled as he almost pleaded with Eris. “Why do you push me away? Maybe you’ll give me an honest answer like this.”

Eris smiled a crooked grin, hand on the back of Lucien's head. “I’m protecting you,” Eris whispered, just in case anyone was listening.

Lucien didn’t look like he believed his older brother. He frowned, “You have pixie dust on your face.”

Eris shook his head, hoping that if he looked like he didn’t know what his youngest brother was talking about, maybe Lucien would believe him. “Never touched the stuff,” Eris said, pressing his lips together and furrowing his brows. Eris hoped he looked serious.

“Evidently,” Lucien gently wiped at Eris’s nose and cheek with the sleeve of his dark red jacket.

Brilliant, Eris thought, glad Lucien had believed him. He’d have been a real hypocrite considering how Eris had always told Lucien, and Rufus too, never to take faerie powders.

“Thank the Mother we have fire in our blood, should burn it out of your system before the ceremony.” Lucien helped Eris to his feet once more, “You’re not wearing shoes.”

Eris looked down at his bare feet, wiggling his toes, “You’re very observant,” Eris frowned.

He wasn’t as happy as he’d been a few moments ago. He could have sworn he’d been wearing boots when he’d first gone to the courtyard.

Lucien dragged Eris through the halls of The Forest House, not even stopping when their mother worriedly asked them what had happened. Eris had flashed his mother a sleepy smile as Lucien waved off her concerns. Stumbling into Lucien’s room, Lucien gently sat his brother atop the heavy comforter of his bed.

Eris was leaning on his side, bare feet dangling off the side of the bed as he propped himself up on an elbow. He heard Lucien shuffling around the room, but he didn’t know what his younger brother was doing. Eris was starting to feel a constant, pounding pain in the back of his head. He groaned as he raised a hand to his forehead, eyes clenched shut.

“Drink,” Lucien ordered, shoving something right up to Eris’s face.

Some of Eris’s senses were starting to return and he nodded, knowing that water usually flushed pixie dust out of someone’s system. Eris hadn’t realized how thirsty he was. He grabbed the pitcher out of Lucien’s hands greedily, chugging the water. Some of it spilled, dripping down his chin, his neck, his chest. Eris could barely breathe, his focus solely on drinking as much water as he could and as fast as possible.

Once he’d finished with the water, Lucien took the pitcher from him and went back into the bathroom. Eris heard him turn the faucet on.

Eris’s head was still swimming, but the world was starting to get back into focus. Eris pressed his face into one of Lucien’s many pillows, groaning into the fabric. He was starting to feel a bit like a fool, especially since he had never wanted Lucien to see him like this.

“You sober?”

Eris mumbled his response, the sound muffled by the pillows.

“More water?”

Eris shook his head, afraid he’d hurl on all the revellers later if he drank anymore. Eris felt the bed dip as Lucien sat down. Lucien placed a hand on Eris’s shoulder. “Fucking hells, fox, remind me to never do that again.”

Lucien chuckled, sounding relieved, “You should take more of your own advice, Eris.”

Eris, in his youth, had found himself experimenting with pixie dust. There was a certain appeal to being stupidly happy and ridiculously unbothered all the time. He breathed a laugh, “Good that you came looking for me, but I’d be lying if I said it wouldn’t have been a little funny if I wasn’t there for the ceremony.”

“It would have been a disaster,” Lucien said, and Eris could hear the smile in his voice. “Let me get ready, you wait here.”

Eris was starting to feel like he was in control again. He breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth, trying to gather his thoughts. Copper pixie dust and golden faerie wine were staple products for a good Autumn Equinox celebration. Eris hadn’t had so much pixie dust since before Rufus had been born, running a hand through his hair, Eris couldn’t help thinking that he was definitely going a bit mad.

Eris wasn't entirely sure what had possessed him to go out and celebrate the Autumn Equinox early, but it might have just been to give him some semblance of control on a night where such ancient magic made all the revellers at the event wild - beastly. Even if Eris didn’t necessarily want to participate in the celebration, it was expected of him, expected of all his brothers.

Eris moved up off the pillows, his face still feeling hot from the effects of the pixie dust, only for Lucien to throw a black, sleeveless shirt at him. “You have something all over yours,” Lucien grinned, having changed into Autumn Equinox black, “Something that is decidedly not pixie dust, correct?”

Eris frowned looking at the glittering copper powder on his fingers and where his black shirt was supposed to lace, “Correct.” Eris knew his cheeks were still red from everything he’d taken, but he was also aware of the fact that he’d become even more red in embarrassment. He was glad Lucien hadn’t thought to mention the other revellers Eris had been with. He didn’t necessarily want to explain himself to his youngest brother.

His head was still pounding, but Eris managed to tug his shirt over his head, fingers shaking slightly as he tied the laces. Just as Eris pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed, the door to Lucien’s room swung open.

Rufus grinned, “Found him, fox?” Three shimmering golden lines were painted on the right side of his face, starting above his brow and ending at his jaw, as was tradition on the Autumn Equinox for all of the unmarried fae.

Lucien looked at Rufus through the mirror on his dresser, humming in response as he dipped three fingers into a small pot of that golden paint, slowly dragging them onto his face as well. The paint shined bright against his light brown skin. “Completely wasted and nearly incoherent.”

“That’s greatly exaggerated,” Eris grumbled, running a hand through his hair.

Rufus shook his head, Lucien’s bed making a funny creaking noise as he threw himself onto it. He mumbled something that sounded a lot like “doubtful,” flashing Eris a smile as he said more clearly, “I would pay a whole lot of money to have been alive in your youth.” Russett eyes flaring with amusement, he added, “I have a feeling Micah, Lagos, and Widge have understated your affinity for getting into trouble.”

Eris briefly wondered what the fuck they’d told Rufus, knowing very well that he’d done many questionable and embarrassing things. He shook his head, “I feel like shit.”

“Of course you do,” Lucien shot his eldest brother an amused look, “Think you’ll be able to walk on your own later?”

“Very funny,” Eris said, pulling on a pair of Lucien’s black boots. They were a little tight, but he guessed they’d probably be lost at some point that night anyway.

Lucien sat on the bed again, the pot of paint in his hands. “Here, hold still.”

Eris watched as Lucien dipped his fingers into the golden paint, grabbing hold of Eris’s chin and gently painting the three straight lines on his face. “Cauldron, you’ve gotten big,” Eris muttered.

“Don’t move,” Lucien snapped, “I’ll mess up.”

Eris rolled his eyes, staying quiet, but he continued to watch Lucien. Lucien’s hair had gotten very long, his jaw very square, his face very sculpted. He was as tall as Eris, but much broader. He looked all grown up, having none of the softness in his features that Eris could remember or any of the sharp angles that the rest of his brothers had.

Lucien finally moved back, flashing Eris a smile. A smile Eris recognized.

Eris blinked a couple times, wondering if perhaps he was hallucinating. Or if he was going completely mad. Or if perhaps he wasn’t as intelligent as he liked to think. All three were perfectly good explanations for why Lucien looked almost exactly like Helion Spellcleaver when he smiled. Eris had never asked his mother who Lucien’s father was - he’d never really cared. Eris had always assumed it had been a random courtier, or one of the High Lord’s guards.

He definitely hadn’t thought his mother had been having an affair with the heir of the Day Court. But even Eris’s still-foggy mind thought that it made a whole lot of sense. It would explain Lucien’s magical abilities appearing at such a young age, and why Helion preferred to ignore them all, and why his mother tried to avoid the Day Court.

Eris made a strange sounding choked noise. If he hadn’t spent nearly half the day drinking, he might have been able to control the shock from showing on his face. His jaw went slack as he stared at Lucien in abject, dumbfounded horror.

Lucien looked slightly troubled as he asked, “Are you sure you’re alright, Eris?”

“Maybe he’s about to throw up,” Rufus offered. “I’m fine,” Eris lied. His mother and Helion Spellcleaver had gone off and had a love child, and he most definitely was not fine.

Eris was finding it very hard to believe that no one else had noticed. Someone was bound to find out. Eris wondered if Helion knew, or if he’d guessed. If he’d known and hadn’t come for Lucien, hadn’t come for their mother, Eris didn’t know what he’d do. Eris didn’t like killing people, but he decided he’d make an exception for Helion if he’d known that his son was stuck in the most savage of courts with Beron acting as his father, and had sat back and done absolutely nothing.

Or he wouldn’t kill him. Lucien might not be too pleased with him if he ever found out. And Eris didn’t actually believe Helion was horrible enough to completely abandon his own son. Eris decided that all he needed to do was make sure Lucien didn’t smile anymore in public. With a sigh, Eris flopped back onto the bed, eyes staring at the ceiling, not really wanting to think anymore. He’d thought enough for the day.

He was going to have great fun at a giant orgy later that night and drink himself stupid after the ceremony. If he snorted enough pixie dust, maybe he could convince himself that he’d dreamed the whole thing up.

“Eris,” Lucien started, “Do you need some more water?”

Cauldron boil me, Eris thought, they even sounded the same. “My life is a joke.”

Eris could hear the grin in Rufus’s voice, “The Mother looks down at you and laughs.”

Eris honestly believed that was the case.

[shhh-no-ones-home]

table manners* bucky barnes x reader

+++++++++

this is what we like to call coming out the gate swinging  😌

You get invited to a house for a party but you cant stop thinking about bucky

* - ive had the smut for this done for a bit and i had such a hard time adding story omg. either way they do it in the bathroom lol. he also eats her out.

Song: kiss me more by doja cat ft sza

because why the heck not

tag list: @cynic-spirit +++++++++

We had been invited to one of those parties where everyone sits around a living room or kitchen and discusses brand products. Where at the end you decide if you want to buy said products for you and your family that are way over priced, but fuck it, the sales lady is so convincing. I had been to a few and this brand was one I really wanted to try so we gladly obliged, Bucky telling me to get what I wanted. How thoughtful. But sitting at the table surround by everyone but him felt almost worse. Like I should be somewhere else. I was stuck in the dinning room with all these chatty women trying to ask questions and Bucky was with my friend's husband (and all of her other friends husband's) in his man cave doing good knows what.

As opposed to the rest of the women sitting around the dining table talking and laughing, I was sat quietly flipping through the product magazine. And yeah some of it caught My eye, and I had already started a order sheet. But My thoughts weren't really on this task itself. Oh, No. My thoughts were on bucky standing in the other room. I could barely see him through both doorways, laughing and drinking a beer. The way his moth curved around the bottle... God I wish that were me. And only because of what he had whispered to me before we got out of the car. Now it's all I could think about. He had ran his thumb over the back of my hand, gripping the steering wheel as he leaned closer to me, whispering into my ear. He ended it with a harsh kiss before slipping out of the car and leaving me a little dumbfounded; like he didnt just say what he said.

thats all id been thinking about since we entered my friends home. of course i listened to the speech the woman gave, interacted, asked questions, partook in the games she had prepared. but ultimately i was thinking about bucky perched nicely between my legs. even now as the sales lady offered to finish my order. I stood up so she could sit in my chair, total my order, and give me the receipt when she was done. She was very pleasant and you could tell she loved what she did. I tried to converse with her about the stuff I was buying, paying attention to buck out of the corner of my eye as the guys lazed their way away from their own little party.

I pressed my legs together a little tighter, trying not to think about it any more. But God damn I was almost feral. Then an idea flashed through my mind to take this to the bathroom but bucky was already on his way to me. Damn I needed him. And he was taking way too long, lazing over to where I was, talking to people here and there as he did. When he finally did reach me he was all smiles, hugging me from behind and planting a soft kiss to my cheek.

"Hey baby."

He said softly, innocently, sending the other people at the table a nod and looking down at the order sheet being written on on the table.

"Hey."

I managed, trying to hide the want in my voice as I leaned back into him.

"Having fun over here? you get what you want?"

He asked and I nodded, biting my lip. It pretty much ended there.

"okay so i added these together and since you decided against doing your own party there wont be that discount. but you did get this bundle so you get this as a bonus."

He was now listening to the lady as she spoke, more so than me probably. but i was still thinking about taking him. I couldn't get the thought out of my head no matter how hard i tried and him being that close and not being able to do anything about it was driving me crazier. So I did what anyone else would do: I pushed my hips into his.

When he looked down at me suddenly I bit the inside of my cheek. But then I kept pressing against him, entangling our fingers together and squeezing once. the woman looked up at us with a smile before she stood.

"here is your receipt and im so glad to have met you tonight y/n, if you ever change your mind about a party you know where to find me."

i nodded as she moved down the table to help someone else.  i looked down at it for a moment but When his other hand flattened against my stomach I knew I would get exactly what I wanted. What I wasn't expecting was him to let go of me suddenly, standing up straight and pulling me around the table.

"Excuse us for a moment."

He said quietly and quickly, noticing my friend making her way over. but he pretty much cut her off before she could even speak dragging me down the hallway. I smiled, stifling a laugh as he led me into the bathroom. As soon as the door was closed I pushed him against it, locking it, and kissing him deeply.

"What's gotten into you?"

He croaked out as I moved to kiss down his neck, grinding myself against his leg. I moaned, feeling him getting harder against my thigh

"I need you, you cant just say that and expect me to not."

I said softly, it coming out more breathy than I intended.

"Well why didn't you say so."

He growled, spinning me around and leaning me over the sink.

"Bucky."

I whined, catching his eye through the mirror with a desperate look on my face. He just smirked at me, keeping eye contact as he kissed down my neck, pressing his hips into me.

"You gonna keep quiet for me darlin?"

He asked and I nodded quickly, feeling his hand make it's way under my dress. I bit my tongue as he slid my panties down, watching as he made quick work of undoing his belt and pushing his pants down.

"Please bucky."

I breathed out as he kicked my legs apart.

"Not a peep darlin."

He said before pushing into me and I gasped. In a second his right hand clasped down over my mouth tightly, keeping me quiet as he pulled me up into his chest and started moving in and out of me. I watched him in the mirror intently as he trailed his left hand down my body, lifting the skirt of my dress and pressing his finger into my clit. I shivered at the cool feeling, my eyes rolling back as he pushed into me harder.

"You like that?"

He growled into my ear but all I could do was nod, griping the sink tightly and making my knuckles go white. As he continued my legs began to quiver, the only thing keeping me upright was the strong grip he had on me.

"Fuck im close."

He grunted, pounding into me from behind. As we moved he took to kissing and biting along my shoulder.

"Bucky."

I moaned, muffled by his hand as I ground my hips back into him. One last push and I was cumming around him, feeling it run down my thighs as my legs gave out. He let out a soft groan before pausing, buried deep in me as came too.

"How was that princess?"

He asked through a pant, moving his hand from my mouth to my chest. I just nodded quickly as he squeezed my breast.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

I gasped as be pulled out of me, feeling his cum start to drip down my leg too. he spun me around quickly, pulling his pants up before kneeling in front of me.

"keep that pretty mouth shut for me darlin."

he instructed as he ran his hands up my thighs. i bit my lips hard as he pushed one finger into me, then another. my mouth hung open when he moved forward beginning to suck on my clit.

"Bucky."

i moaned, digging my fingers into his soft hair. he squeezed my thigh with his other hand as he lifted my leg over his shoulder. i was perched on the edge of the sink as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of me, his tongue doing figure eights across my clit.

"oh god."

i whined, him sitting back and sending me a look.

"what did i say?"

he asked, his hand stopping. i bit my lip.

"sorry."

"good."

he said, curling his fingers into me. my grip in his hair got tighter as i tried to stop the moan threatening to spill past my lips. as the feeling got more intense i threw my head back, him moving forward again and sucking at my clit. it wasn't long before my second orgasm wracked through my body, making me shake against him as he held me tightly in place. as he sat back, his fingers still in me as i came down, i panted heavily, head still against the mirror.

"you okay?"

he laughed, standing and sticking his fingers in his mouth. i sent him a look before pulling him to me and kissing him harshly.

"god i love you."

i said breathlessly against him as he rested his forehead against mine, a wicked smile on his face.

"so i guess you really did get everything you wanted tonight."

he smirked, standing upright and steadying me as i stood. i sent him a stern look before nodding.

"how bout we go home and  you give me a little more?"

i said a little snarky, making him laugh and pull me to him, his hand finding its way to firmly grip  my ass.

"how about we go home and i get what i want?"

i looked over his face, focusing on his lips.

"is that a promise?"

he let out another short laugh.

"absolutely."

[sheheni]

BIG FAT UPDATE:

Reading my previous entries are so cringe. It's like reading the entries of a mentally unstable rodent who learned how to type. I almost couldnt read them in their entirety. Just know that Im more self-aware now

I hit my 1 year anniversary with Starbucks, and I am now training to become a Coffee Master.... so I can be a certified coffee snob (including pay bump)

I had jaw surgery a few days ago, so my days solely consist of soft foods and bed rest. I should be good to go by the time school starts, although I wont fully recover until about 3 months. (Your dad is devastated by the news but not to worry: I'll be back in commission soon)

On a cooler note, I went to France. Ive been there a couple of times already, but this time was different. Genuinely the best vacation Ive ever had. It wasn't Paris like usual, we went to the French Riviera! Marseille, Nice (I ate three full pizza pies there), Cannes (where I made a friend named Neil), Monaco (to celebrate my birthday), Antibes (with gorgeous seaside sculptures and cute markets), you name it. When we did stop in Paris, I ate at Victoria's and got sat next to Zion fucking Williamson and Luka Doncic.... no words. (Except I got invited to Zion's table once Luka left..... my mom dragged me away though). Anyways, I am endlessly grateful I was able to go and I had the time of my life <3<3

My dad and I agreed that my senior trip will just be him and myself in Iceland! 🇮🇸 Exciting

Speaking of senior trip.... I am a senior in August. Im looking forward to graduating but Im dreading the work in between now and May. Just a few months of hard work so I have the chance to get into a good university where I will work hard for 5 more years lol. Sigh groan complain.

I miss Minnesota almost every day. I have moved on, but it would be nice if I could see them this summer. Although it's unlikely. Im mostly sad that we have been together for so many years but I wont graduate with them :(

I have some friends here. I really like them and they are super nice! I feel like they are genuinely good people. Plus I have a bit of a love triangle going on 😏 Updates later

Also, guess who failed every single AP test....... NOT ME! All fives baby

That is all I have for now. Bye <3

[moonchildstyles]

I’m... wondering if Mitch or Sarah have walked into Harry and y/n. Not having sex necessarily but maybe they’re kissing and things got a bit passionate and she’s sat on the kitchen counter with her legs around him and he’s pulled her top straps down or he’s kissing her neck and they walk in like “H are you around? I forgot my... WOAH! Sorry guys!” And y/n is mortified lol. Harry fixes her shirt and her hair and is like don’t worry baby but she’s like?? H 🥺🥺🥺 I’m embarrassed 😔 And they just... hug. And Harry tells her it’s okay, they’ll tease for a day or two, tell them to get a room but that’s it. And just H, because everyone knows how shy she is 🥺

Omg yes yes yes maybe at h’s house and Mitch and Sarah had been over before they went out for their own plans while the two of tjem were just going to stay back w each other and do Stuff and they just leave and she’s already on the counter but h is just like getting annoying like sooooo...we’re alone now and we have alllllllll day...:what should we do? And she already knows where he’s going bc he tried to have a round when they woke up but she shyt him down bc she knew mitch and Sarah would be by soon but now that they’re alone she just quietly is like well...come here and I’ll tell u! And he’s gets between her legs and dips his head down and like tell me what we’re gonna do baby and he kisses her cheek and she’s like well...we can go back to ur room and do what u wanted when we got up? And he’s started to kiss over her neck and pull at the strap of her tank top and he’s like well what if we stayed right here? I still haven’t had my breakfast so maybe I could have it in the kitchen and she just gets a little breathy and like jods her head and he starts kissing her and grabbing at her thighs and pulling her against him and just after she moans out a little “daddy” the front door opens again and mitch is like yelling like h are u still out here??? Have you send my c— OH NVM SORRY GUYS!! And just scrambles out w/o getting anything and she’s immediately like 🥺🥺🥺 bc that’s.:.:that wasn’t supposed to happen and h is already lile baby hey it’s okay and is tugging up her straps and petting her hair bsck and fixing the smudge of her glossy lip treatment that she put on that morning and he’s just soft like it’s okay baby and she’s just holding onto his shirt all tight and like “but I’m embarrassed he saw us..like...almost”🥺 and he’s like I know but it’s okay trust me ive walked in on him and Sarah doing much worse like he’s trying to make her feel better and laugh it off and but she just🥺 so he holds her and is like I promise it’s okay don’t worry about it he didn’t see you or anything okay? Don’t worry🥺 and then it kinda gets pushed off and maybe it’s like she’s taking a nap or something when mitch and Sarah come back and they’re just teasing before walking into the living room like OH IS IT SAFE TO COME IN???? EVERYBODY GOT THEIR CLOTHES ON????? And he just rolls his eyes and tells them to shut up that she’s sleeping and they just giggle and tease him some more and he just scoffs it off bc they’re talking some big game when he’s walked in on them doing much worse than kissing so he doesn’t think they have room to talk but all he does is tell them to leave her out of it that she’s really embarrassed right now and ofc Sarah’s like yeah ofc but they can’t let it go before getting one more in on him that they need to get a room next time or something before they leave to mitchs room and h is left w his sleepy girl and he knows he’d take all the teasing and stupid jokes as long as she was okay🥺

[elriel-oblivion]

WHO'S READY FOR SOME HARDCORE NSFW 🔥😈

Ashes from the Deep

Part IV

--

Just kidding! 😅

Lol, sorrynotsorry for that fake intro haha, but here's part four for real 😅 Thanks to everyone who read/liked/commented on/reblogged the last part, I really do appreciate all your support 😊🥰🥰

Shoutout to @julesherondalex again for finding one of my fave paragraphs ☺️☺️ I think I only have one fave line this time 😅 And thanks to all who comment their own faves!! I really like seeing what you like in each piece - and it def helps me gauge what kinda writing/literary techniques work and engage people the most 😊😊

I hope nobody's disappointed by this part lol, I really enjoyed writing it in tandem with the previous one 😅

Word count: 4.1K. Lemme know if you'd like to be tagged/removed

I've also finally posted all four parts to AO3 if anyone prefers to read there 😊

Ashes from the Deep

Part IV

--

The water falling from the jug to Azriel’s head was the only sound in the bathroom. His hair absorbed the water, darkening to a midnight gleam. A thin breeze entered the room, and now without a blanket, Elain's exposed arms prickled with goosebumps.

Elain plunged a hand into his hair, breaking the mud between her fingertips. A quiet breath passed through his mouth and the corners of her lips rose.

She rubbed his scalp, coaxing as much dirt to the surface as she could before guiding another jug of water through his hair. Some of the mud drained away, some clods of sediment sticking to the basin. She poured over a final jug and stained water trickled into the drain. The warmth of the water tickled through her skin, replacing the cold from outside.

‘Is that nice?’ she asked, brushing the water through his hair with both hands.

His body seemed to relax, one foot sliding forward a little. ‘It is,’ he said thickly. He cleared his throat.

Her fingers continued to gently work at his head, and when sure his hair was completely wet, she ran the bar of soap under the tap. Soft lavender entered her nose and she inhaled deeply. That calm scent loosened her own muscles; this could be as much a session of serenity for her as she hoped it'd be for Azriel.

So long as she held taut the chain on her heart.

Soap foaming, she immersed her hands back into his thick hair, forming a lather. The lavender smell intensified, a wave of tranquility sweeping over her. She blinked slowly, as though her mind were wading through water.

Another sigh from him drew her attention back to his head. She needed to focus on this task; for Azriel, she could stay awake a little longer, especially since she’d already started.

Her fingertips massaged his skull, pressing a little deeper at the base where knots had a tendency to form. Elain moved her own neck, a sharp stab sparking at the top of her spine.

She hadn’t mentioned it to anybody yet – didn’t even know if she would – but her visions had been so feverish the past fortnight. Sleep felt like a luxury as she tossed and turned with psychedelic madness flashing behind her eyes. A turquoise expanse of sparkling ocean, birds shaped from sunset, glittering gowns in every shade, and a too-wide smile with pointed teeth were just a few of the recurring images attacking her every night.

Bathing before bed wasn't helpful. She'd hoped the calming scents of the herbs she'd found would be enough to pacify her mind and lull her to sleep. So far, there was no positive result beyond a loosening of her muscles. At least some of those herbs relieved the intensity of the dark circles round her eyes.

Mellow darkness, however, was a true reprieve, one which she found in her garden in those quiet evening hours, when the sky, having bled through its saturated sunset, was awash with deep muted blues.

As if she’d summoned it, a similar darkness manifested around Azriel’s body, swirling thickest about his head like a black cloud. His shadows rose like vapour, tendrils reaching out and twining about him.

Elain’s hands were hidden among those dark whorls, and they whispered on her skin in cool caresses. She leaned over his head and said, ‘Azriel?’

His eyes flicked open. ‘Huh?’

There was something boyish and confused in the way he blinked and she laughed lightly. ‘Your shadows are sort of hiding your head.’

He turned his head an inch or two. ‘Sorry,’ he said, and those shadows began sweeping over each other, wisps kissing her as Azriel pulled them in.

Elain’s hands were stationary until those shadows were completely reeled in, a faint frown on Azriel’s face. Sorrow lurked there, perhaps that he couldn’t be cocooned in that safe space.

Guilt coated the chain around her heart.

‘Don’t be,’ she murmured. Did he hear the shame in her voice? She hoped not; he should be resting, not worrying about Elain’s feelings. ‘You can close your eyes again.’

He did, but not before she caught a shadow lingering behind his eyes. Were they a glimpse into the shadows he leashed within himself, or were they a reflection of something darker, more sinister, perhaps?

That guilt began to cut into her heart now, icy claws digging. Cold squeezed her chest, a cold unrelated to the outside breeze breathing over her skin. How could she think Azriel was sinister? After the countless times he’d reached out to comfort her, be with her, listen to her – and the sincere light she saw in his eyes. Even the hope Rhysand had spoken of that day of the last battle in the war. The hope whose meaning he'd learnt from Azriel, learnt to experience from Azriel.

No, it was absurd. Yes, Azriel was a warrior and yes, he’d killed people. Possibly worse, she didn’t know. But those shadows she knew with certainty weren’t formed from the darkness of nightmares and malevolence and all things wicked.

They were a darkness of safety and security, of nights spent in a loved one’s arms. When a child sought their parent; when an adult sought their partner. They were the darkness found deep underground, where the earth was pure and things grew. Where life grew.

And just like his shadows, he too was not crafted from unholiness. There was unrelenting virtue glowing in him, burning whatever taint touched his darkness. She’d seen it in his eyes when he’d found her at the Hybern camp, when he alone had armed her with his own dagger at that later battle – and then run straight into the thick of it without Truth-Teller.

She didn’t know what she would’ve done if he hadn’t survived while she held his blade.

So when his shadows leaked out again, wrapping him in twining vines and wisps, she said nothing. Simply continued to work in that lovely lavender soap, giving as much care as she could. He deserved it.

She poured jug after jug of warm water over his head, wading her fingers through his locks to wash out the soap. Within a minute or two, the water was running clear. She yawned and dried her hands on a fresh towel.

‘Az, you can lift your head now.’

The guilt relented a little, icy claws releasing. A cold still filled the space left behind. But before the warmth of his presence, his existence, could balm her heart as it often did, she froze. His shadows parted to reveal a tear slipping from his eye. Just a single tear but so abrupt it was jarring on the shadowsinger’s face.

‘Azriel?’

He was unresponsive. His breathing was regular, body relaxed in a state of sleep. Except for that tear. What was he dreaming of?

She raised her hand to his face but let it hover in the air. Would this wake him? Would he even be fine knowing Elain had seen him cry?

She touched the tear anyway, placed a knuckle right beneath it. The tear slipped onto her hand and she wiped off the trace left on his face.

Azriel stirred, voice raw as he said, ‘Mother?’

Mother – was she what, who he dreamt of? There was such a childlike insecurity in his tone that Elain’s heart squeezed. She moved her hand back a little when her own voice sounded wispy. ‘No, it’s Elain.’

His eyes opened, gaze darting around the room. There was a small crease in his brow as he blinked away whatever haze remained from his dreams. The shadows dissipated.

Confusion limned his features in the few seconds it took him to fully awaken. Did he know he cried? That she’d wiped off his tear? No, that wouldn’t be okay. Elain had to distract him, if that were even possible for a spymaster.

Sometimes his title overwhelmed her. Sometimes she found security in it; did he see things he didn’t want to on his travels? Did he have access to a wealth of information he didn’t initially understand, just as Elain didn’t comprehend her visions without further probing?

‘I asked you to lift your head but you’d fallen asleep,’ she said. ‘I didn’t want to wake you, but we should dry your hair before you really go to sleep. Especially if you’ll be going outside again. Although I would ask you to consider taking a guest room.’

That frown deepened for a second before he smoothed out his face. ‘Right.’ He sat straight, and Elain set a hand under his head as he stiffly pulled it up. He rotated his neck a bit, water dripping off his sodden hair, sliding down his face.

She placed the towel over his head, patting it across his scalp. Some strands escaped to hang over his forehead, so she pulled them back, ruffling the towel through his hair. All the while, he watched her, but she busied herself with the water that glistened on his neck. Anything to avoid his eyes.

Then he dropped his head – from tiredness or something else, she didn’t know – so she took the opportunity to dry the back more. Drying his hair took more effort than washing, he just had so much hair. The small towel quickly became damp so she continued with the one round his neck, and a short while later, deemed his hair dry enough. Still wet but not sodden, so she combed her fingers through it, smoothing out the tips that stuck out. She left both towels on her bathtub, touching a knuckle to one of the trailing plants sitting on a stool nearby.

She heard the chair scrape across the floor, Azriel rising, so she laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Wait. I want to clean your face, too.’

The idea of having to look at his face for however long it took to clean sent a thrill through her and she woke a little more. The chain on her heart slipped from her control a little and she leashed it back. Her chest tightened as she grabbed a cloth and ran it under the tap. She knelt next to him, honing in on that giant gash on his cheekbone. She touched the cloth to his face.

He winced and her hand stilled. ‘Sorry.’

A small smile graced his face, and he said, ‘Don’t be.’

She recognised the words from earlier and breathed a laugh. ‘That cut does look very bad, though. I think I’ll have to clean it with alcohol too.’

‘Let’s crack open that wine then.’

Something sultry laced his voice, the chain in her chest slipping again. The metal warmed and Elain fiddled with her grip. She let out a shaky laugh. ‘Not tonight, Azriel.’

Goodness. A late night wine session with Azriel. There was heat in her cheeks and she didn’t know how to tone it down. It was even worse with his face so near hers. He’d see it all. Her face warmed further, and it was only the dirt and blood on his that reminded her he was in no position to be drinking the night away. Not with fatigue so clear on his features and in his posture.

And not with Elain. That toed a line she didn't deserve to cross.

So she gave focus only to his skin, wiping the cloth across his face. Once most of the mud and blood was off, she rinsed the cloth, then wiped him down again. He turned his head and as his eyes fixed squarely on her, the chain heated further. She tried to grip it elsewhere, but every link was as hot. It wasn’t uncomfortable – quite pleasant, actually – but she was sure it would be soon enough if she didn’t move now. The cool air sweeping into the bathroom did nothing to help. If he would just stop looking into her –

Elain abruptly stood and on a whim went to close the window. Maybe he'd think she was cold, though she'd regret trapping the air when it was stifling here soon.

She moved to the cupboard by the door, her back to him. She took a deep breath, taking her time to pull out a bottle of alcohol, in pouring a few drops of it onto a clean cloth. The distance between them was refreshing. The chain didn’t cool, not with Azriel still so close in the same room, but at least it didn’t warm any more. Elain took a moment to readjust her grasp and pull it again.

She composed herself and knelt beside him. The alcohol’s scent permeated the air and her own nerves bristled. ‘This’ll hurt.’

His smile was slight. ‘It’s all right.’

She bit the inside of her cheek and touched the cloth to the wound. His jaw clamped like a vice and she lightened her touch, the cloth barely kissing his skin.

This wasn’t the right way. She needed to clean that wound, regardless of what pain it’d inflict. It'd be temporary, the sting. So she pressed the cloth harder, dabbing it across his cheekbone.

His features were stonelike at the contact. Did pain ever become easier to bear? Would the prick of a thorn be less painful in a decade than it was now?

If Azriel’s face was anything to go by, she guessed no. Perhaps some pain couldn’t be learnt; perhaps the body never fully digested pain.

Perhaps she'd never fully recover from the desolation in the Cauldron.

‘Are you all right, Azriel?’ Her voice was so quiet, like she didn’t want to flare the hurt any further.

‘I’m all right. Are you all right, Elain?’

‘I’m fine.’

He wasn’t all right and nor was she, but neither was willing to broach that right now. There was so much to him she didn’t yet know. What was it that shadowed his eyes so often? What darkness clouded his mind before he fell asleep? In due time, she’d learn, but that human impatience, the sense that there was never enough time, threatened to run her tongue.

Time stretched out before her. She’d learn. He was her friend, she just needed to give him time to teach her the workings of his soul. And in return, she would bare hers too.

Neither said a word as she pressed the alcohol into every wound, cleaning his cheekbone and temple, a scratch across his jaw. She stared at the graze there for a few seconds. She’d ask Madja for some calendula oil later; that would speed the healing process.

She sighed as she washed the cloth. Something had loosened the chain, but it wasn’t a sudden unravelling. It’d just been gradual and she hadn’t noticed, one link falling back at a time. Her heart expanded. There was torment in Azriel’s posture, on his face, and it hurt. It hurt that Elain couldn’t do anything for him besides give basic medicines for his body.

But he was more than just a physical form. He had a heart and a soul, both so tight with whatever misery lurked in his past, and she couldn’t do anything about that. For all the light she saw in the world, all the places of brightness, there was ten times as much darkness, ten times as many nooks and crannies where gloom and wretchedness dwelt. What good was the light if it didn’t burn away the shade over everyone’s souls?

She spent more time washing the cloth than necessary.

The chair creaked. ‘You can talk to me, Elain, whenever you need.’

The chain slipped again, Elain’s fingers grappling for those final links. It hurt so much that he was willing to give so much. Her smile was too bright as she turned and said, ‘I know.’

He stood. His gaze was so direct on her that she only held one chainlink now. Just one link remained in her hand, one link between her and the release of a beast she hadn't yet had the courage to face.

The link heated. Her muscles loosened and her hands fumbled with the tap, the cloth falling from limp fingers.

He would realise. He would know what she was thinking and feeling if she didn’t get a grip on herself, on that final chainlink. So she turned her body to face his and cleared her throat. ‘We should go downstairs to the fireplace. It’ll be warmer there.’ For his damp hair, of course.

No matter that whatever cool air remained in the room did nothing to tame her heat.

His hand was cold on her wrist, a shiver tracking her bones, and colder still were the shadows that swept them up and into the living room. Good, there was much more space here. Her feet hit the floor and she bent to place three logs in the hearth.

Moonlight glinted on the steel she struck against the flint but the metal didn’t spark the way she’d seen it do when everybody else lit a fire. She tried again, Azriel silent beside her. This was pitiful. She swiped the steel a couple more times, and a spark finally appeared.

It was too silent here. ‘Those shadows are quite convenient at times, aren’t they?’ she said.

He breathed a laugh. ‘They can be.’

She let the spark catch on the cloth resting on the hearth and threw it onto the logs, a blaze finally blooming. She doubted anybody else took that long to start a fire. Heat bathed her legs.

Elain didn’t know what to make of the lack of judgement she found on his face when she stood. Though, it was common with him, how honestly he looked at her. She shouldn’t be surprised. Save Nuala and Cerridwen, he was perhaps the only one who didn’t view her as a naive fool, a child. None of the others said it, but she saw it in their eyes, that patronising glimmer.

He was leaning against the mantelpiece with a forearm, one leg crossed over the other, the portrait of casual elegance. It wasn't often she got to see him looking so relaxed. Then again, he was tired.

Her eyes met his. ‘Just a few minutes now and we’ll be warm.’

His eyes were soft; he didn’t say anything. Just kept looking at her. Into her.

The air warmed. That was a quick few minutes.

Just the flames. Of course it was the flames. Anything else would be ridiculous.

The wound on his cheekbone was an angry red in the dim light. ‘I think you’ll need a bandage for that wound.’ Some herbs would be prudent too.

‘I’ll be fine without it,’ he said.

She pleaded for interference from something, anything. ‘It’s quite deep.’

‘Not a match for my Illyrian healing.’ The smirk that followed sent a hot spark down her skin. The chain now burned and she lost her grip on it completely, that leash uncoiling and slipping down, down, down into the abyss of her core. Her heart swelled like a dragon inhaling a mighty breath.

She needed a distraction from his achingly stunning face. The wings behind him were not a reprieve at all. Especially not after what she'd overheard about them. Certain people tended to forget she was in the room and had heightened hearing when they talked about the sensitivities of the Illyrian wings.

Her face heated and her heart throbbed against her chest. How improper these thoughts were. The air was stifling now. Perhaps they should've stayed in the bathroom. Even the weak chill of night air would be better than this. She wished she could have shadows to cool her down like Azriel did. Or to hide in. She'd seen him do that plenty of times.

His wings rustled and he straightened, coming off the mantelpiece. His eyes were glazed, somehow even more stunning than they were outside earlier. The fire highlighted the grey brown storm swirling in his gaze while streaks of emerald glistened like the veins on leaves in the height of summer.

It felt like the height of summer too in this heat.

He frowned. She cleared her throat of the pocket of air lodged there.

'Oh.' A bead of sweat glinted on his temple, right above the gash there. The sting that would ensue was an unnecessary pain, so she reached up to wipe it away.

As her finger touched his skin, above the crackle of the flames, a loud thudding beat entered her ears. Azriel caught her wrist and a small gasp left her lips.

His eyes smouldered, that thunderstorm churning in the dim light. His heartbeat. It was his heartbeat she heard. It ran and ran, crescendoeing like a drum before the climax of a song.

Was the shadowsinger feeling the same as she? Did his heart yearn to touch hers too?

It was unbearable, the alternative. Unbearable but probable.

Her voice was thick, with longing, with desire, with anguish all entangled when she spoke, 'I can hear your heartbeat.'

He said nothing. If he truly didn't reciprocate -

She almost couldn't continue but pushed out, 'And it's a beautiful sound.'

That song in his heartbeat finally climaxed, a thunder of sound pounding the air.

'You're beautiful, too,' he breathed.

Her own pulse throbbed, heartbeat echoing in her throat. Tears blurred her vision of him. She blinked them away; she wanted to truly see every inch of his wonderful face.

His breathing lightened.

As did hers.

He was a mirror, Azriel. He saw her; he saw what she hid from everyone else, clear as day. It was his eyes that told. His words, too, in that smooth voice, free of condescension.

And now no mouth had ever looked so inviting.

And maybe this was okay. This fondness, this attachment she'd developed for him. It wasn't a sudden spark - childish and unquestioned. This had been building for a while now. Months. Maybe even since the first year she'd met him. And maybe it was improper and she was a lady, but perhaps it went beyond expectation. If her sisters could give themselves wholly to their love, then so could she.

Love. It was exhilarating, liberating to open up that well inside her. To no longer have that chain leashing her heart.

And because she knew he'd not make another move, she whispered, 'Are you going to kiss me?'

The fire hissed as a log tumbled further into the hearth. Shadows smoked behind his eyes. 'Only if you want me to.'

Without a doubt, she wanted this. There was a certainty, a clarity in her bones that sang high and free. It whistled through her marrow and glided into her blood, awakening her soul. She was not a child. She could want this. She could have this.

'Yes.'

A frown marred his face and her heart dropped. His eyes were now a hurricane, darkened like night descended over them. Torment was etched in the line of his brows, in the flicker of his jaw as it ground together.

He was afraid. Of hurting her. Ruining her. She'd seen the way he always glimpsed his hands, glancing away with revulsion in his eyes. He thought he was a disgrace, a savage.

But how could that be? How could this male, this male of honour, loyalty and charm think so little of himself? He was better than any male she could've had the pleasure of knowing.

'I know what you're thinking,' she said, 'and I want you to know I trust you, Azriel. You will do me no harm. You couldn't.'

His eyes shuttered as he lowered them, brows still furrowed. He still held her wrist, so, pulling his arm with her, she reached out and stroked his brow with her thumb. She rubbed back and forth in gentle motions until that crease was gone, and he exhaled slowly.

'I trust you, Azriel. So kiss me.'

The moody veil of night lifted from his eyes, the tempest calming to a glistening haze. His heart still pounded, so wondrously loud as he leaned down, his free hand settling against her cheek. He was unhurried, tentative.

It was agonising. Worse still, he paused with an inch of space between their lips. His night-chilled air and cedar scent blended with the smoke and wood of the fire, seductive as it crept into her skin and twined around her bones like ribbons of mist round pillars.

With shadows flickering over his face, and the light so sultry beside them, his eyes were alluring. She'd never let herself notice that before. 'Kiss me,' she said faintly.

Elain didn't breathe as his lips touched hers.

__

Feedback's welcomed, thanks for reading 😊

@illyrian-lover-flower @julesherondalex @nooriee @mis-lil-red @verifiefangirl @tswaney17 @a-happybird @thewayshedreamed @sleeping-and-books @thefangirlofhp @januarystears @courtofjurdan @ladylochan

[nerdypanda3126]

15: “I don’t want to get up — you’re too comfy.” Adrienette or Marichat. Congrats on 100 followers! 🥳

Both? Both. Both is good. lol Hope you like it! ^^

Five Times Marinette Snuggled with Chat Noir (And One Time with Adrien)

Read on Ao3

I.

“Marinette, look! I beat your high…” Chat’s triumphant crow was cut off when he noticed that Marinette had fallen asleep slumped over her textbook.

When he’d gotten there a little earlier, she’d yawned as she told him he was welcome to hang out as long as he kept her awake so she could study. Oops. As he watched, she slumped further over and was in danger of falling out of her chair. He jumped to her side to catch her before she slid to the floor.

“Okay, I think it’s time for bed, Marinette.”

He chuckled as her full body weight fell into him. Yep, she was out cold. Thank goodness he was suited up, or struggling to get her dead weight out of her chair and up to her loft would’ve been a much bigger challenge. He set her down on her bed as gently as he could and she settled onto her side with a contented sigh. He smiled fondly at her. She was always working so hard. He was actually relieved he’d failed at keeping her awake. She deserved some rest.

He shifted on her bed to position himself below the skylight so he could pull himself up without waking her. But before he could, an arm wrapped around his waist and—with a surprising amount of strength—pulled him backwards. His face flamed when she pressed her chest against his back and nuzzled into him before she mumbled something incoherent and sighed again. She was still asleep, then. He breathed a sigh of relief. But until she shifted, or loosened her iron grip on him, he wasn’t going anywhere.

He didn’t intend to fall asleep. But her bed was so much warmer than his, and her breathing was rising and falling so steadily, and her arm was so snugly wrapped around him… his eyes had fluttered closed before he could help it.

II.

He knew instantly something was wrong when his boots hit her balcony and she was out in her chair with a blanket wrapped around her. Before he could say anything, she hid her face and wiped at her eyes hurriedly, sniffling. When she turned back to him, her eyes were red and her smile wobbled.

“Chat, hi.” She wiped at her cheeks again. “Um, what’s up?”

“I think I should be asking you,” he said. “Why were you crying?”

“Crying? No, I wasn’t—this is, well I mean, okay, I was crying, but not because of anything…”

Her eyes met his and he watched her smile falter. He rushed to her side before she broke and gathered her into an awkward sideways hug. She rested her head on his shoulder and he felt her shaking when she started crying silently. He kept watch over her for purple butterflies and smoothed his claws through her hair in what he hoped was a comforting movement.

When her tears finally died down, she shifted sideways and he perched on the side of her chair with her, cradling her against his chest.

“Can I do anything to help?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head against him. “This is enough.”

“Okay.” He squeezed her shoulders and looked up to watch the stars instead. It didn’t take long for her breathing to even out.

When he was sure she was deeply asleep, he carried her inside and tucked her in again, this time making sure to avoid her cuddle reflex. Although he wouldn’t have minded being caught again, if he was honest. When he was back on her balcony, he looked back and noticed she was frowning slightly in her sleep and reaching out to the spot he’d occupied last time. That shouldn’t have made his heart flutter in his chest, and he couldn’t have explained why it most certainly did.

III.

“Chat Noir, you’re not going home like that,” Marinette admonished him.

“I’ll be fine, princess, my house is like a… it’s a hop, skip, and a jump from here.” He waved in the general direction of his house and tried to give her a devilish grin, but in his sleep-deprived state, he was pretty sure it ended up looking more like a woozy half-smile.

“The fact that you just told me that means you’re definitely not okay to go home.”

He would’ve been offended that she was laughing at him if his eyelids weren’t so unbearably heavy. A late night akuma and an early morning photoshoot on top of his already full day wasn’t a great combination, now that he thought about it. Whose idea was that, anyways?

“Pff. Hawkmoth,” he mumbled. “What the heck kind of name is that, anyways? Hawk. Moth. Are you a… are you a hawk or a moth?” He yawned. “Make up your mind, am I right?”

“You’re right.” Marinette was still chuckling at him as she pushed him down to her chaise. His legs gave out surprisingly easy and he fell backwards.

“Whoa. You’re strong.”

“And you’re staying here.” She pushed him back down when he tried to sit up. He didn’t have enough strength to pull himself up again.

“Mmm. Cat nap sounds nice,” he heard himself say, then he smiled as he felt a blanket get draped across him. “You’re nice, too.”

He thought he saw her smiling before his eyelids fluttered decidedly closed.

When he woke up, a little less loopy and a little more well rested, Marinette was snuggled up against him on the chaise. He’d turned to his side while he slept and his arm was wrapped around her waist while she nuzzled into his chest. Her hands were curled up around her chin and she was smiling in her sleep. He let himself relax again and tucked the blanket a little more securely over them both. Best cat nap ever.

IV.

The slick rain on the rooftop, combined with his blurry vision, made him slip and fumble a landing as he ran over the rooftops of Paris. His ankle had twisted; he knew it from the sharp sting he felt every time his left foot landed. But he couldn’t stop. He didn’t know where he was going. Didn’t care. As long as it was away from the mansion. Away from his father and… away from what he’d seen. He’d have to tell Ladybug. They’d have to go after him. But tonight. Tonight he could barely breathe. Could barely see straight.

The hazy lights of Marinette’s balcony registered a minute after he crash landed. He dragged himself over to the corner and curled into a ball, hoping she wasn’t home. Hoping he hadn’t woken her from whatever pleasant dream she’d been having. He hoped it was pleasant. He curled tighter into himself and let himself weep.

The light from her skylight fell across him and he groaned. Of course she was here. Of course she’d heard him as he’d clattered to her roof.

“Chat Noir?” He didn’t miss the note of panic in her voice, but he didn’t move to acknowledge her. Maybe she didn’t know for sure. Maybe she just came to check.

Her hand touched his shoulder, then she was leaning over him, blocking the rain.

“Are you hurt? What’s going on?”

He watched her eyes glance over him, checking for injuries, before they finally fell on his face.

“Oh, kitty,” she whispered. She reached out to touch her fingers to his cheek, and without thinking about it, he leaned into her touch. She blew out a breath and her mood shifted. Became gently authoritative. It flickered something in the back of his mind. A memory. But he didn’t care to try to place it.

“Okay. Come on. Inside. Out of the rain.” She tugged at him, and his hand fell limply from hers. She sighed. “Chat, I’ll carry you if I have to, but we need to get you inside and dried off, okay?”

He sniffed and pulled himself up to sit against her railing. For a moment, he raised his face to the sky and let the rain wash over him. Felt nice. Cold. It ran rivulets through his hair and he realized he was soaked. His ankle was starting to throb. Inside. Right.

He let Marinette pull him to his feet and usher him inside, leaning heavily on her and wincing as the pain of his ankle set in. She sat him on the edge of her bed and disappeared to find towels for him. He hung his head between his knees and clasped his hands around his neck. Deep breaths. Marinette couldn’t protect him if he got akumatized right now. He wasn’t sure he could protect Marinette, either.

When she came back, he sat up and let her fuss over him. Let her fluff his hair with the towel and wipe his face and neck. Her bed where he’d been sitting was soaked through from the runoff of his suit, but she didn’t even seem to notice.

"I shouldn't be here," he whispered. "Marinette, if I'm akumatized…"

"Don't worry about it."

She sounded so sure. So firm. He didn't bother protesting anymore. Instead he fell back onto her bed and stared through the skylight. Watched the rain streak across the glass. At some point she crawled into the bed next to him and he wrapped his arm around her automatically.

She didn't say anything else, or ask him to talk about it. Having her weight against him was comfort enough, and he drifted off along with her.

V.

"Pound it?" Ladybug held out her fist for him and smiled. He bumped his knuckles against hers and turned to vault away. Her hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Chat, what's the rush? It's over. We won. Don't you want to celebrate?"

His eyes slid over to Hawkmoth, revealed to the world to be his own father, and bile rose to his throat.

"Not really, no." He winced as her face fell. "I mean, I do, or at least I will. There's just someone I want to check on first. Make sure she's okay."

Ladybug's head quirked sideways and her brow furrowed as she tried to understand. "The Miraculous Ladybugs fixed everything."

"I know." He looked away, towards Marinette's balcony. "I just don't think it'll feel real until I see her."

Ladybug's hand fell from his shoulder in silent understanding and she let him vault away.

When he dropped to Marinette's balcony, she was there to meet him. Before she could say anything, he swept her into his arms. Into a bone-crushing bear hug that knocked the breath out of them both. He buried his face in her hair and breathed her in.

"You okay, kitty?" She laughed and the way she held him back almost made him believe she'd been just as worried about him.

"Purrfect," he purred before he sighed. All the tension and adrenaline of the battle left him. It was real. It was over. "And exhausted," he admitted.

"Me, too." She was smiling as she pulled away and led him over to her skylight. When they reached her bed, they collapsed into a sprawl of limbs, and he fell instantly asleep with her scent surrounding him, his arms wrapped entirely around her, happy and home.

VI.

He woke up first. Plagg flew into his vision and they shared the familiar panic. Leave. Hide. The small sleeping form of Marinette practically on top of him was both a blessing and a curse. He didn't want to wake her. But he shook her shoulders gently anyways.

"Marinette, keep your eyes closed. I have to go."

“Nooo…" she groaned as she nuzzled into his neck. "I don’t want to get up—you’re too comfy.”

He chuckled and ran his thumb along her bare arm, delighting in the goosebumps that sprang up under his touch.

"Unless you want me to let the cat out of the bag…"

She paused and he felt her face scrunch against him as she screwed her eyes shut. "It's okay now, though, right?"

Well, that was a loaded question. Yes, he supposed the identity rule was nullified by Hawkmoth's defeat. But he hadn't talked about it yet with Ladybug. And he always thought she'd be the first to know. He shared another look with Plagg, but his kwami just shrugged. Adrien’s choice, then.

As he ran his thumb back up Marinette's arm, he realized that more than anything he wanted this. To touch her without the gloves and run his fingers through her hair. He wanted her to look into his eyes, not the ones covered by Plagg's magic. Hawkmoth was gone. His father was gone. Ladybug would understand.

"Okay.” He blew out a breath. “You can open your eyes."

Her grip around his waist tightened, and she curled into him before she took a deep breath and turned her face towards his. Her eyes were still shut. He chuckled and ran his thumb across her furrowed brow, smoothing out the worried crease that had formed, before he ducked down to press a kiss to her forehead.

"Marinette. It's okay."

She shook her head against him. "Me first." She sighed and clutched his shirt. "Chat, I'm--" she paused and took another deep breath. "I'm Ladybug."

As soon as the words left her mouth, she opened one eye, then the next. Her breath seemed to leave her in a short gasp as her bluebell eyes met his.

"And you're Adrien," she whispered.

[xofanfics]

String - Part V

Prologue | Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI

Genre: angst, fluff, suggestive themes

Pairing: Baekhyun x Female Reader FT. SEHUN

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: You find yourself in a friends-with-benefits situation with your best friend. You have no business falling for him, but your heart begs to differ.

If you had to list the emotions you felt after that night, you could fill a notebook with words and phrases and maybe even some sentences. You’d start with words like anger, despair and hopelessness. You could also write words like idiot and stupid and failure. You could fill it with curses in English and in Spanish because Evie taught you how to curse like her uncle in Puerto Rico.  You could write how much you hated Baekhyun and how he was a stupid asshole who pulled you along on a string for weeks and about how selfish he was for not telling you how he felt. You could write about yourself and how everytime something good came into your life it was pulled away from you like candy from a baby. And how unfair life had been to you, that you couldn’t believe that you liked someone for the first time in a while and you seemed so close to having the perfect relationship with Baekhyun.

“Just casual sex between two people when we needed to get off, mutual entertainment!”

“You deserve someone whose heart skips a beat when you smile...like yours used to do to me...”

You’d never felt more defeated or stupid in your life. You weren’t the luckiest person in the world and you’d experienced a few heartbreaks in your life but this had to be the worst. And the worst part of this heartbreak in particular was that you weren’t even together yet this one hurt the most.

You’d poured your heart, with all its energy, into this idea of being with Baekhyun. Even though you got confirmation that Baekhyun had chosen someone else you had questions about who that person was. Who was she and where the fuck did she come from and what did she have over you? Whoever she was didn’t matter. No matter what, you hated her. Even if she was an angel sent down from the heavens above you didn’t care; you still hated her.

* Baekhyun hated himself. He never meant to hurt you or lead you on. It wasn’t an excuse, it just...happened. Things just ended up like that and he knew that everything that had happened up until this point was his own fault. He made this mess. Your feelings spilled all over the floor and he wasn’t sure how to clean it up.

As you walked away, he wanted to stop you. He wanted to apologize, to say something to you. He knew that he hurt you and he knew there were a few things in that confrontation that he could’ve left out… Like the part where he said, “You deserve someone whose heart skips a beat when you smile...like yours used to do to me…” That was stupid. Why did he say that? He was feeling attacked and, honestly he felt hurt even though he had no right to be, he took out his frustrations on you. In the moment, he wanted to hurt you like you were hurting him.

He fucked up and he knew that there was no way you’d ever forgive him. He was drunk and he knew it was no excuse for how he behaved or the things he said that he couldn’t take back but he regretted it all.

He dragged himself back to that bar, mostly just to get his wallet from the table. Part of him wondered if you’d go back to the bar and drink more but he knew that you wouldn’t. When you needed space, you walked around. And he knew that you probably never wanted to see his face again. So he knew that when he got there you wouldn’t be.

As he walked into the bar, you were nowhere in sight. His friends were at the table and looked up as he approached.

“Where’s Y/N?” asked Evie.

“We had a fight and now she hates me,” Baekhyun said, putting his wallet in his pocket.

“Jesus, Baekhyun,” she said, standing up and grabbing her phone. “If you didn’t want to be her boyfriend, fine, but the least you could’ve done was be her fucking friend!”

Evie stormed off, leaving a very angry and uncomfortable aura, Sadie running behind her. Baekhyun sat down next to Daren and Drew quietly. “Well now Evie hates me, too.” Baekhyun picked up the beer that Evie didn’t finish and took a gulp from it. “Cheers.”

Drew watched with confused brows. “What the hell just happened?” * Baekhyun woke up without a hangover thanks to his friends encouraging him to drink water instead of buying another drink to deal with his problems. He told them everything that happened, sometimes giving a little too much information, from when the time Baekhyun first had sex with you up to meeting Kira again to the argument he’d had with you. There was a point where he even cried a little. They didn’t judge him too much but they did tell him that he should’ve told you sooner, when he started having doubts. But he already knew that.

He woke up and reached for his phone. He checked desperately for a message from you but he didn’t find it. His friends tried to stop him from calling and texting you and he supposed it was a good idea. If anything, the conversation might go a little better if you were sober.

He sighed and went into the kitchen for some water. Last night’s events replayed in his head, making him feel even worse than he already did as he poured water into a glass. He took a huge gulp in the hopes that he’d wash those negative feelings away. Unfortunately, it didn’t. He couldn’t take last night back and he was still an asshole.

He retreated back into his room and plopped on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. He had a million things he wanted to say to you but he didn’t know how angry at him you were. His phone vibrated and he picked it up to find a text from Kira but not you.

Kira [11:03AM] : Good morning! Hope you slept okay. How was boys’ night?

[11:03AM] : Morning! No hangover, so that’s good :)

He picked up his phone again, clicking on your contact name to call you. The phone rang and rang. He called two more times but you didn’t answer. The third time, he decided to text you instead. Maybe you’d respond to a text instead of a phone call. He’d rather you at least read what he had to say, if anything, even if you didn’t respond.

[11:11AM] : Y/N, I’m sorry. It was never my intention to hurt you. I know that I can’t take back the things I said last night but some of it, I didn’t mean. I was getting upset and I said all the wrong things. I just want to talk to you when we’re sober. Can we please talk things over? * Even two weeks later, you still found your thoughts being invaded by Baekhyun. You’d ignored his texts, opting to read the previews instead. He left you a voicemail the other day that you hadn’t listened to because you didn’t want anything to do with him. You wanted him to be erased from your life. What was worse is that you still liked him. Your heart still dropped every time you got a notification from him and you couldn’t stand him unknowingly having this much power over you.

You spent the past two weeks avoiding Baekhyun like the plague. Thankfully you didn’t have classes with him this semester so the chances of running into him on campus was low. To further prevent any run-ins with him, you avoided the cafeteria and the library and the campus bookstore. Most importantly, you avoided the pool because you knew that Baekhyun liked to use the pool and you avoided the gym just in case he’d decide to go there.

You even avoided your friends a little, always careful to confirm whether or not Baekhyun would be there. And when you decided to hangout with the girls, you made sure it was away from campus or at your apartment.

The last time you saw them Evie said, “He’s really sorry, Y/N. I’m not saying this because I’m taking sides. I’m just saying that maybe you should at least hear what he has to say…”

And you ignored her because you didn’t want to. Hell, you didn’t need Baekhyun, period. You didn’t care what he had to say. Or maybe that was just what you had decided to convince yourself for the time being.

You didn’t feel like spending another Saturday alone with your thoughts. You didn’t want to hang out with your friends from school so you started thinking about other people you could hang out with. For a second, you thought of Sehun. You shook your head, pushing the thought of him away. It had been a month, if not more, since you met him. Would he even remember you? Would he text you back if you texted him right now? What if he was busy? You picked your phone up, deciding that it was worth a shot.

[4:26PM] : Hey, it’s Y/N. Are you free today?

Upon sending it, you almost wished you hadn’t. There was no way he’d respond. It had been so long since you even saw him last. You put the phone down, deciding to do something else instead of stressing out over a text you probably wouldn’t get. You decided to make a cup of tea to ease your mind. You waited for the water in the kettle to boil, staring at the kitchen counter mindlessly. Your thoughts shifted back to Baekhyun but you decided that you spent enough time thinking about him when he was clearly seeing someone else. You sighed and poured the boiled water into your black tea. Enough was enough, you decided, putting your mug on your nightstand.

You glanced at your phone for a few seconds before you looked away, toward your TV. A moment later, you looked at the phone again. You had a staring contest with your phone until you couldn’t take it anymore and gave into temptation, picking up the phone. What you didn’t expect to see was a text message from Sehun.

Sehun [4:29PM] : Only if you’re kind of single ;)

You chuckled at his reply. He was so petty.

[4:35PM] : Definitely single now lol.

Sehun [4:37PM] : You’re in Brooklyn, right? How quickly can you get ready?

* You found yourself walking down a colorful Williamsburg street to meet Sehun. You felt nervous and excited at the same time. You felt bad for taking this long to contact him and you were honestly surprised that he even wrote you back at all. When you texted him, you didn’t even expect a text back. Sehun must’ve been very interested in you to put up with something like that. Because if it had been you, the feeling wouldn’t have been the same.

You were excited because you had finally stopped moping around about Baekhyun. You’d be lying to yourself if you said that you still weren’t upset. But enough was enough. There was no reason for you to stay in this Saturday being bored and miserable by yourself. Why not spend time with a man who had shown initiative and appreciated your company.

You found Sehun on a bench outside the bar. He wasn’t paying attention when you were crossing the street, so you saw him before he saw you. He was scrolling on his phone, his leg crossed over the other. As you approached him, he looked up. Seeing you, he smiled.

“Hey,” you said.

He stood up. “Hey...I thought we could grab a drink and talk a little before dinner. There’s this place around the corner I heard is really good.”

You smiled. “Lead the way.”

And with that, he opened the door for the bar. For a Saturday, the bar wasn’t as crowded as it could be. Sehun took a seat at the bar and you sat down next to him. Sehun grabbed the drink menu and handed it to you.

He said, “What kind of drinks do you like?”

With a hum, you replied, “Something a little sweet but not too sweet. What about you?”

“Something strong.”

“That sounds about right.”

The bartender came over with two glasses of water. “Right now, we have a special deal going on. It’s buy one, get one free for select drinks on this menu.” He put a small piece of paper between you, listing all the drinks that were eligible for the deal.

“Will we get drunk?” you asked, glancing at the drinks.

The bartender winked. “I make a pretty strong mojito…” * You felt like a bird being freed from its cage, finally able to set your wings to fly toward a more achievable future. The dreams you’d had of Baekhyun seemed more like a far off memory. Was this what you needed all along? To just forget about him and to focus on yourself? You felt better than you had in weeks. And even though you were on your second drink, you didn’t feel like it mattered.

Sehun didn’t ask about why you didn’t call or text him before. He could’ve asked about it but he chose not to. Maybe he didn’t care. Maybe he was happy that you’d even texted him before. If you’d been in his shoes, you would’ve been upset about it. You would’ve wondered what you did wrong and if he was even interested in the first place or worse, you would’ve thought that he was playing with you like a video game hooked up to his TV. But no, Sehun kept it simple and you appreciated it.

The more you talked to Sehun, the more you realized you had in common. It was just like the first time you met him in the bar where you talked about any and everything. You noticed small things about him the more you spoke. He nodded often when you were talking and he folded his hands together on the table in between the sips of his mojito. He was the type of person who got distracted easily, glancing every time someone walked in or out of the bar.

You learned that he graduated from Pratt Institute with a degree in video production. He loved cameras and all the things that they could do. He could see the beauty in a photo, in a video, that others couldn’t. Sehun showed you some of the pictures and videos he’d taken. You thought it was amazing that he was so passionate about it and that he talked with such enthusiasm.

Sehun smiled at you. “You know, I had to force myself to go talk to you that day…” He chuckled. “I felt like I was fighting with myself. I thought to myself ‘You have nothing to lose, go talk to her!’ And eventually I did.”

You returned his smile. “What made you want to talk to me?”

“You just looked like you weren’t having a good time...You know, one of those nights where your friends drag you out with them when, in reality, you’d rather be at home watching Netflix. You looked like that. You were frowning like this.” He imitated you, poking his lips out in a pout.

“I don’t pout like that!” you said nudging him.

He laughed and, a second later, so did you. “I’m actually pretty shy...but I don’t know, I feel like I don’t have to be shy around you.”

You felt your stomach grumble. The two of you had been so caught up in the drinks and conversation that you’d completely forgotten about eating. “Not to cut you off but are you starting to get hungry?”

His eyes widened. “Shit, I’m sorry. Yeah, let’s get food.”

Sehun quickly paid the bill and it wasn’t long before you were leaving the bar. Sehun lead the way. “There’s this pizza place that’s not too far away but it’s much better than those dollar slices, I promise.”

“So basically fancy pizza?”

“Pretty much.” * The pizza was amazing and so was Sehun. You hadn’t felt this connected to someone in a while. Sehun wasn’t as loud or outgoing as Baekhyun but you liked that about him. The two of you seemed to balance each other out. But the best part was that the conversation never got boring and you never felt the need to escape as you had with other guys you’d tried dating before. It was refreshing to go out with him. It felt new and spontaneous.

You’d just gotten off of the train. Sehun insisted that he take you home. He said, “There are a lot of strange people outside. I want to make sure you get home safe.” So, here he was. You were a couple blocks away from your building.

You said, “I had a really good time tonight…”

“Me too,” he said. “I’m glad you texted me. I didn’t think you would.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Things were complicated back then,” you said. Then, you let out a sigh. “You probably think I’m an asshole.”

“I don’t think you’re an asshole. When you gave me your number, I knew things were complicated,” he replied. “Did you figure everything out?”

You nodded. “I think so.”

“That’s good,” he said, looking both ways before crossing the street. There was a moment of silence; the only thing you could hear were your shoes hitting the pavement.

“What’s your intention?” you asked, with your eyebrows raised. Though Sehun was a nice guy you wanted to know what he was trying to do with you. Before you got too invested, it was better to ask now rather than later. It was a valid question, right?

Sehun stopped on the corner. “I’m not trying to go with you up to your apartment if that’s what you’re asking me...I wanna take things slow, get to know you first. If it works out between us, I would want to date. I’m more of a relationship person. I don’t like sleeping around.” You nodded, mulling it over. No one had ever approached you like this. Men either definitely wanted to fuck or definitely wanted to date. And Sehun seemed to be closer to wanting to date. “Besides, I think you deserve way more than just some guy who only wants to fuck you.”

The last thing he said stuck with you. It seemed like that sentence would remain with you, sticking to you like glue. Sehun always seemed to say something that made you question yourself and wonder what the hell you were doing. It almost seemed as if Sehun knew about your situation with Baekhyun, though it was obviously just a coincidence.

You approached your building and came to a stop at the door. “Thank you for taking me home.”

Sehun nodded. “It’s one in the morning. You shouldn’t be alone. This street is too dark.”

You smiled, a nervous feeling bubbling up in your core. “We should hang out again.”

“Are you free this week?”

“Yeah. I don’t have anything planned on Friday.”

The corners of his mouth went up into a grin. “Sounds good.”

“Goodnight, Sehun.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Sehun waved as you walked into your building, disappearing through the front door. He hoped that this worked out because, like you, he hadn’t felt like this about someone in a long time. And he had a good feeling about you.

You took a shower when you got upstairs, washing away the sweat and dirt from a pretty hot day. When you got out, you laid on the bed in your towel. You picked up and found that Baekhyun had replied to your Instagram story photo that you’d taken of the pizza. At the time, you felt like being petty so you made sure you got Sehun’s watch in the shot. You wanted him to know that you were moving on, that you were capable of having a love life. He commented with heart eye emojis and you knew it was his way of making his presence know, of trying to slide back into your life somehow.

You sighed, annoyed that you’d come home from such a good date and then Baekhyun had to ruin it. You hadn’t really thought about him tonight, aside from when you posted on Instagram, and he popped in to remind you that there were still some unresolved issues. You knew that you couldn’t run from him forever. Your friends understood that you were upset but they thought you should hear him out, at least, to get closure and move on.

You decided to listen to the voicemail Baekhyun left you. Maybe it would give you the closure you needed.

“Y/N...I know you’re ignoring me so I figured this is the best way to talk to you. First of all, I wanted to say that I’m sorry...for the things I said to you that night. I was harsh and I was being a coward, waiting until I was drunk to tell you the truth. It was something only an asshole would do so, uh, I guess that makes me an asshole. I’m sorry for leading you on for all this time. I just want you to know—and I don’t know if you’ll believe this or not—that I had every intention of dating you officially when I came back from Korea. It’s just recently I realized that I have feelings for someone else. And I’m sorry that I avoided talking about it and that it hurt you. Most importantly, I’m sorry for hurting you. I consider you a close friend and I ruined things between us. I’m sorry, Y/N. You don’t have to forgive me and we don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I just hope that one day we can at least be friends. Um, take care, Y/N…”

If anything, this voicemail made your feelings more complicated.

***

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[super-secret-sick-fics]

ouu yes ive been so obsessed with them (osasuna) recently and there’s barely any fics for them in this department lol i wanted to see something like suna coming to school sick with the stomach flu or something and osamu taking him home to take care of him (i feel like it’s ooc for suna to go to go school if he’s not feeling well so it’d probably be one of those where it gets progressively worse throughout the day) sorry if this is too long haha

Okay!! Thank you for this request. Sorry it took so long. Honestly, I had a lot of fun with this and it ended up being so long, that I’m gonna post it in 2 parts!!

You can totally read either as a stand alone though. Part 2 should be up soon :)

Suna and I have the same birthday, so I actually kinda put a lot of myself into him in this one since we share a star sign lmao. I hope it’s not too ooc for either of them. It’s my first time writing sunaosa!

Sick at School: a SunaOsa fic

Pair: Sick Suna, Caretaker Osamu

Word Count: 3,024

Warnings: vomit & swearing & soft cuddles

Part 2 Here

_________________________________

Suna was confused.

There was a strange gnawing in his gut that wasn’t there when he woke up this morning. In fact, when he woke up this morning, he felt perfectly fine. Maybe he was a little more tired than usual, but he didn’t sleep all that well, so he brushed it off and got ready for school.

But now, he was sitting in class, his eyes burning as he tried to stay awake. It was only Monday and only the second class of the day, but he felt like he’d been at school for days already. On top of the grumbly feeling in his stomach, his brain was muddled, so paying attention to whatever his teacher was saying was taking every bit of energy he could scrounge up.

It didn’t make sense. He slept his eight hours (even if it wasn’t the best sleep), he ate a good breakfast, he was hydrated, there weren’t any tests or games coming up to make him anxious at all. So the unsteady, uncomfortable, unusual feelings he currently felt simply did not make a single bit of logical, rational sense.

And because they didn’t make sense—because there was no rational reason for him to feel that way—he ignored it.

Ignoring it proved to be more difficult than he anticipated as the fog in his brain solidified into a consistent pounding and the gnawing in his stomach started to feel more like his stomach acid was boiling. The sun shining on him through the window didn’t help any, and he started to feel rather warm. By his fourth class, occasional cramps rolled through his body, forcing him to tense every muscle in his body to keep from wincing.

When the teacher finally released them for lunch, Suna folded his arms on his desk and hid his face in the crook of his elbow, ready to take a nap. Within three seconds, he heard the chair in front of him scrape the ground, grating on his ears, and felt his desk shake as someone sat down. He adjusted his head and peeked over his arm to find Osamu staring down at him, his usual bored look gracing his features.

“Yer sick, Sunarin,” he deadpanned and took a bite of his sandwich. Suna blinked at him several times.

Sick? Was that why he felt so weird? But he wasn’t sick this morning. There was no way he would have come to school if he felt bad.

Still, it would explain why he slept poorly. It must be a fast acting bug.

“I guess so,” he mumbled and buried his face in his elbow again.

“Hmmm,” Osamu mumbled. They were quiet for a minute or two before Osamu spoke again.

“Wanna go to the infirmary?” he asked, his mouth full.

Suna looked up at him again and sighed before sitting up. The world spun around for a brief second and he closed his eyes until the feeling went away. When it righted itself once more, his stomach was hurting worse than before.

“How’d you know anyway?” he asked and rested his chin in his hand.

“You’ve been lookin’ bad all mornin’. Wasn’t hard to tell.” Osamu shrugged. His sandwich was gone and he started making his way through the onigiri he most likely made himself. The fact that Osamu could tell he wasn’t feeling well from across the room made Suna blush. Or maybe he had a fever?

“Plus,” Osamu continued, “Tsumu’s home right now with a pretty nasty stomach bug. Threw up all over his bed last night.” He scrunched up his nose cutely, probably remembering the disastrous scene from the night before. Atsumu was never good at being a sick person. Or an injured person. Or a person at all, really.

“Wouldn’t be all that surprising if ya caught it from him since ya slept over at our place last weekend.”

Suna nodded in agreement.

“What about you?” he asked. Osamu shrugged again.

“I’ll probably be spewin’ my guts out by Thursday. Usually how it goes. One of us catches something then the other is sick within the week. We’ve only been sick at the same time a handful o’ times.”

“Mmmm,” Suna nodded and put his head down once more. It was suddenly very difficult to hold his head up.

“Infirmary?” Osamu asked again. Suna shook his head.

“Can’t move,” he whined before he could stop himself. Osamu looked at him with wide eyes.

“W-well, I’ll help ya out, dumbass,” he stuttered and Suna returned the wide eyed look.

“Uh, sure. But finish your lunch first. I can wait. You should eat. Wake me up when you’re done,” he said and closed his eyes.

“Alright. Lemme know if we need to go sooner though…” Osamu said hesitantly and Suna tried to ignore the implication behind the phrase.

Just because Atsumu had a stomach bug didn’t mean that Suna did too. He wouldn’t throw up at school. The increasing nausea absolutely had to be related to the growing migraine that slammed away at his head. He definitely would not throw up at school.

Before he started overthinking himself into a downward spiral, Osamu placed a hand in his hair. Suna was tense at first, but then Osamu started gently scratching his scalp and he immediately relaxed. He was a little embarrassed, honestly. Not because this was unusual though.

Osamu knew it helped Suna with his frequent headaches, so Suna was sure he somehow knew about the incoming migraine. It was just that this was usually something Osamu did for him in much more private settings. He’d do it on the bus on the way back from away games, or in one of their rooms after school or during a sleepover. To be so affectionate in the middle of their classroom was unheard of and if Suna wasn’t feeling so poorly, he’d probably smack Osamu’s hand away.

“Ya got a slight fever there, Sunarin,” Osamu whispered gently.

“Mmmm.”

“Okay. I’ll let ya know when I’m done eatin’.”

“Mmmm.”

Within a few seconds, Suna felt himself drift off.

When he woke up again, it wasn’t because of Osamu.

A violent cramp rolled through his gut and he shot up in his seat, ignoring the startled looks of his classmates. The cramp passed quickly, but left behind a foreboding feeling of nausea so intense it left him paralyzed and glued to his seat.

A second later, he noticed that Osamu was nowhere to be found and his anxiety increased. The situation was becoming increasingly urgent and there was no way in hell he could move or speak without throwing up all over his desk.

His chest tightened and he swallowed back a gag. He needed help. He needed Osamu.

“Suna-kun?” a girl from his class touched his shoulder and he flinched. She withdrew her hand.

“O-osamu—“ he forced out and she nodded urgently and ran away and out the door. Less than a minute later, she came back, Osamu hot on her heels. She pointed to Suna and Osamu nodded before rushing over and stood in front of him.

“Sunarin?” he tried and Suna shook his head.

“Are ya gonna—“ Suna nodded before Osamu could finish his question. The eyes of all of his classmates burned Suna’s already flushed cheeks and as if to let everyone know what was going on, a gag forced itself through his body painfully and he leaned over his desk. He brought the back of his hand up to his mouth and whimpered.

“Can someone bring me a trash can, maybe?” Osamu snapped at their peers. The girl from before nodded and dashed to the corner of the room and dragged the trash can over to Suna’s desk.

Everyone froze again and stared with scared eyes at the situation unfolding. Suna shook with effort, trying to stop the inevitable. He really really didn’t want everyone to watch him throw up.

Thankfully, Osamu had his back.

“Leave?!” He shouted and everyone ran out of the room.

“I’ll bring the nurse, Osamu-kun,” the same girl said and Osamu nodded, but his eyes were focused only on Suna. They’d have to remember to thank that girl later.

“I’m sorry, Rintaro. I finished my lunch and you were sleepin’ so peaceful I thought I had time to go to the bathroom before I took ya to the infirmary,” Osamu apologized and cupped Suna’s face in his hands. His voice was much softer than a second ago. It was the voice reserved for those quiet nights that they spent chatting before they fell asleep. Or on the team bus early in the morning when everyone else was still too groggy to pay attention to them. And it comforted Suna in ways he couldn’t comprehend.

“I feel sick, S-samu,” Suna forced through gritted teeth. The swirling in his stomach grew more insistent by the second and he knew it was only a matter of time before he was leaning over the trash can.

“I know, Rin. I’m sorry. It’s okay. I’ve got ya,” Osamu smiled softly at him and brushed his hair back. He frowned when Suna unconsciously leaned into his cold hands.

“Fever got higher,” he mumbled. Suna gagged again.

“Alright, c‘mon,” he said and circled around the desk behind Suna. Osamu gently grabbed his trembling shoulders and positioned him over the trash can. People’s leftovers from lunch filled about half the bin and the smell of all the different foods made Suna dizzy.

“Rin, ya gotta relax,” Osamu sighed and forcefully rubbed between Suna’s shoulder blades.

“N-no,” Suna said stubbornly.

“Yer an idiot.”

“Y-yeah.”

“It’s gonna feel worse if ya don’t just let it happen,” Osamu tried. Suna shook his head.

“Alright well, be mad at me later, then,” Osamu muttered. Suna was about to turn and look at him questioningly, but Osamu wrapped a hand around Suna’s front and placed it on his stomach. Even the minimal contact forced a wretch that left Suna reeling.

“D-don’t,” he tried, but the request was punctuated by a painful hiccup.

“I’m sorry. Can’t do that,” Osamu responded before starting to rub up and down on Suna’s stomach quickly. The motion shook the contents nauseatingly and Suna couldn’t stop the watery burp that followed. He shook his head, eyes squeezed shut tightly.

Osamu didn’t relent. He started patting Suna’s back with the other hand, forcing belch after belch. The conflicting motions wreaked havoc on Suna’s already chaotic stomach.

They stayed like that for what felt like forever, before Suna grabbed Osamau’s wrist tightly.

“S-stop—hurrk. P-please, Samu. No m-mor—hic,” Suna begged. All of his limbs felt like they were about a thousand pounds and he shivered, cold despite the sun beating down on his back.

“It’s okay, Rin. I got ya,” Osamu muttered. He pried Suna’s sweaty hand off his wrist and replaced it with his hand. Suna squeezed hard when a wet belch jolted his body. His other hand grabbed the rim of the trash can in a white-knuckled grip. Osamu used his free hand to rub gently between Suna’s shoulder blades again.

Suna squeezed his eyes shut when he wretched. His throat felt tight and he tried to swallow the accumulating saliva in his mouth, only for it to come back up with a noisy gag. He opted to just drop his mouth open and let the spit fall into the trash can disgustingly.

“S-Samu—“ he tried but was interrupted by a guttural, wet, burp that left his head spinning. Two seconds later, he wretched and a weak stream vomit dribbled out of his mouth. It burned his throat and coated his mouth. The disgusting taste left him more nauseous than he thought possible and a belch gurgled in the back of his throat. He heaved, but nothing else came up.

“Ah, Rin, I’m so sorry. Please don’t cry,” Osamu shushed him. Suna didn’t even realize he was crying.

He continued heaving for what must have been an eternity before another painful gag jolted him forward and brought with it a torrent of pale vomit into the trash can. At least he didn’t have to see everyone’s discarded lunch anymore. Not that his new view was much prettier.

“There ya, go Sunarin,” Osamu soothed. Suna sputtered and coughed, trying to catch his breath. His body was relentless though, and before he felt like he had sufficient oxygen, he was lurching forward with more forceful vomit pouring out of his mouth.

Suna’s body didn’t let up. It was stuck in a seemingly endless cycle of gasping breaths abruptly interrupted by a fountain of vomit forcing its way out. Eventually, he was just left heaving over the trash can, his stomach trying but failing to expel whatever might be left. Anxiety crawled up his spine and the room spun. He wanted to breathe, he really did. He just couldn’t.

“Fuck, Rin, breathe. Please,” Osamu demanded and his voice shattered through Suna’s panic. He nodded and closed his eyes to try and collect himself. He inhaled through his nose and exhaled heavily through his mouth. A minute or two of that, and he was able to take in his surroundings again.

At some point, Osamu wrapped an arm around Suna’s chest because apparently, his own arms gave out at some point and hung limply at his sides. He spit the residual nastiness out of his mouth and squinted up at Osamu.

“Can we leave?” he asked plainly. Osamu stared at him owlishly and then chuckled.

“It’s the middle of the day Rin, I can’t just—“

“Please?” he all but begged and grabbed Osamu’s arm. Osamu hesitated for the briefest of seconds before relenting with a heavy breath.

“Yeah. Yeah, ‘course. Want me to call yer mom?” Osamu responded. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped off Suna’s face. Suna shook his head.

“Is it too much to ask if I can stay with you? I don’t want to risk giving this to my little sister and grandma.” His voice was quieter than he wanted, but he was wiped out. He cleared his throat and spit in the trash can. He was fading fast. All he wanted was to curl up in bed and sleep whatever bug this was off.

“Yeah okay. I’ll ask my Ma. Shouldn’t be too much of an issue since Tsumu’s sick too.” Osamu pulled out his phone and massaged Suna’s scalp. It felt so good that he leaned over and buried his face in Osamu’s stomach. If he wasn’t careful, he’d fall asleep here. Hopefully Osamu’s mom would be okay with it and come quickly.

“Ma, can you come pick me and— no I’m not sick— well, if you’d just let me talk ya crazy—Ma I do have a good reason to be call— would ya stop talkin—yer damn right I’m being disrespectfu—Ma!” As Osamu argued with his mother over the phone (it was nothing new) Suna took inventory of his body.

There was no denying he was sick. That much was obvious. His head was pounding and his stomach still rolled and swirled uncomfortably. Shivers danced up and down his body, exacerbated by the sweat that coated his skin. He was sure that he had a fever. All of his limbs weighed him down and he didn’t think he had any sort of energy to move them. It was taking all he had to stay awake right now.

“Osamu-san!” The girl from before returned, the school nurse right behind her.

“Suna Rintaro, you poor boy. Caught that bug going around, I see,” he heard the nurse and pulled his face away from Osamu’s body. Blinking a few times to clear his blurry vision, he sniffed and stared at the old lady in front of him.

She stuck a thermometer in his mouth without saying a word and pulled a water bottle out from her coat pocket. While they were waiting for his temperature, Suna glanced at Osamu, who was now leaning against the desk behind Suna’s. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, his other still holding the phone to his ear as he continued listening to his mother rant.

Without thinking, Suna reached over and grabbed a hold of Samu’s shirt with one hand. Osamu looked down in surprise before his face softened and he put a hand on Suna’s shoulder.

The thermometer beeped and Suna winced.

“38.7,” the nurse read and pursed her lips. She pulled out some medicine from her lab coat and gave some to Suna. He grimaced. Even in his hazy state, he knew putting something in his stomach wouldn’t go over well.

“Suna-kun, you need to get that fever of your’s down. I know it’s not ideal, but please try.” Suna turned his head away. She sighed.

“Okay, but make sure you take something at home. Does someone need to call your mother?” Before Suna could answer, Osamu interrupted.

“I’ll take him ma’am,” he said, apparently off the phone with his mother.

“Osamu-kun, don’t you be thinking you can just skip out on school,” she warned.

“I would never,” Osamu charmed, “I think it’s the smartest move, ya see. Atsumu is at home with the same illness right now and so there’s no way I ain’t carrying the germs for it. Wouldn’t it be safest if I go home too? Before I infect anyone else. And I can take Sunarin with me.”

The nurse gave him a skeptical look, but then glanced over at Suna. She noticed his grip on Osamu’s shirt and the former’s hand firmly on Suna’s back. It must’ve made Suna look pretty pathetic because she relented almost immediately.

“Oh fine, fine. Does someone need to call your mom?”

“No, ma’am. Just got off the phone with her. She’ll be here soon. Said she’s got no problem taking Sunarin in ‘til he’s all better.” He squeezed Suna’s shoulder and Suna relaxed knowing he wasn’t at risk of infecting his little sister or aging grandmother. He sighed and smiled gratefully at Osamu.

It was comforting to know that Osamu was going to be looking after him. Because, if the swirling in his stomach told him anything, he was in for a really long night.