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jaedreaminn · 3 years

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My Snack

Pairings: Reader x Jaemin ♡

Genre: Fluff, Crack.

Word Count: 2.6k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stupid. That's what you call yourself (Jaemin too and your parents and your friends and your neighbour and the lady down the street) on a regular basis.

There standing in front of you laughing his ass off was your best friend, Na Jaemin. You were standing in the middle of your school courtyard, covered from head to toe in your long awaited lunch- spaghetti. Such a pity.

It wasn't your fault that the loud sounds from Renjun and Haechan trying their best to taunt the other were distracting, or the fact that Jeno was near them trying to befriend a cat (where had it even come from) who kept hissing at him and was this close to scratching him had caught your attention, so you could help but slightly worry or the fact that the youngest two devils, Chenle and Jisung had brought a fake can of worms and were dumping them in Haechan's satchel and the thought of how Haechan (who hates any form of insects) would react was playing in your brain. Maybe it was also the way Jaemin had smiled at the two 'Angelic Devil's' as he liked to call them but then noticed your arrival and winked and blew a kiss towards your direction like the flirt he was, was what made you trip on your own feet. Launching your favourite dish of spaghetti high into the air and land straight on your head a second later. Nope, no you definitely didn't trip because of a kiss. It was the other thing distracting you, and it was gravities fault the plate fell back onto your head.

Somehow, you couldn't seem to get mad at the fact that Jaemin was laughing at you instead of helping you because of how his eyes lit up when he laughed and how his low chuckles calmed you.

So instead you did what anybody else would do in that situation. You stood there stuck to the ground and pouted.

Looking at your sulking state Jaemin beamed at you and made his way towards your spaghetti covered self taking off bits of it off your hair.

“You know,” he said his infamous smirk playing on his chapped but pretty lips “I get that your stubborn, but I didn't think you'd go that far t- OW!” As realisation on what he was saying dawned on you a punch to his gut was all you needed to shut him up. Maybe not. “You know what you said and now-ow ooowwwww ow ow ow OK I'll shut Ow OOW UP!” You glared at him as you threw a series of punches his way to make sure he shuts up. Plus, he was a dramatic ass, and you knew none of your punches ever hurt him.

“I know what you're going to say,” you said and Jaemin opened his mouth to speak again, but before he could “Don't you dare say that” you cut him off, venom in your voice and Jaemin knew better than to anger you more than he already had.

“Oh well,” Jaemin sighed in defeat as he wiped the sauce off your face. How romantic. “Lunch is coming to an end, and you need to get changed. So I'll buy you a sandwich from the cafeteria and sneak it to you during Maths” and he smiled. Cute you thought, in a platonic many years of friendship way of course.

You simply nodded and made your way towards your locker where your spare change of clothes was when you had a thought which made you smirk in victory crossed your head. You immediately turned on your heels and yelled in a devilishly sweet voice “Jaemin-ahh”

He looked at you confused and so did the rest of your friends who didn't do anything to help and just laughed at you and go back to the bickering.

“You're the first person to approach me,” you said, and you could practically see the screws turning in Jaemins head “You know what I said.” you said in a sickeningly sweet tone and Jaemins jaw dropped as low as Felix's jaw when he realised he's terribly screwed in the year-end UNO tournament, and Jaemin stood there dumbfounded finally realising what's happening.

“You know what this means” you sang out more than said as you waved at him and sent him a wink and a flying kiss, turning on your heels and skipping away. You liked to think that maybe after years of watching the master flirt you've learnt a good amount to have actually made Jaemin blush.

You definitely weren't affected by what you said AT ALL. If anyone said you tripped a bit more with each skip you took they were as blind as your principal Lee Soo Man.

Jaemin on the other hand did. He really did blush as you walked away.

Jeno walked up to the now shyly smiling Jaemin “So what did y/n say?”

Jaemin didn't answer staring off into the distance, so Jeno pinched him making him yelp and glared at the boy who glared back, and let's be honest no one wants to be caught in a glare down with Jeno so Jaemin simply sighed and said “She said she's a snack” and Jeno raises an eyebrow as if asking Jaemin to go on not convinced that just all she had said.

“So I obviously denied it and y/n being stubborn as she is said that guys would like her even if she's covered from head to toe in actual food” by now everyone was carefully listening to the conversation.

“I told her she's delusional”

“Then” Jisungs soft voice asked anticipating what was to happen next.

Jaemin sighed and looked at the floor “She bet that she would do it and the first person to approach her when she's covered from head to toe in food is the person she's going to date” there was a one-second pause.

And then the loud laughter coming from their group made a lot of heads turn. Chenle fell to the ground laughing, dragging poor Jisung who he was earlier leaning on with him too. Hyuck had tears in his eyes and was holding onto Jeno who was doing the same all while hysterically laughing. Renjun tried and failed not to laugh and instead tried to comfort Jaemin but his red face and watery eyes weren't exactly subtle.

However, between Renjun’s laughing or chocking no one could tell he managed to get out a “That's why the great flirt Na Jaemin was flustered” and somehow the laughs got louder. Jaemin just stood there turning all shades of pink and red.

Finally, when the laughter calmed down a bit Haechan looked at the pouting Jaemin “Aww poor Nana got himself into a mess again here let me give you some candy to cheer you up” and reached into his satchel. Jisung and Chenle sat up straight looking at Haechan in anticipation and Renjun and Jeno also looked.

Haechan on the other hand was clueless and was just trying to pull out candy from his never ending stash of candy when “It should be right- AAAAAAHHHHH!” The bag flew five kilometres away from the way Heachan launched it across the ground upon seeing this 'slimy legless wiggling poop insects' as he likes to call them in his bag.

Chenle and Jisung immediately snickered and gave each other a high five giving themselves away as the culprits to Haechan who was glaring daggers at them. They realised that they were discovered when Heachan yelled and charged at them ready to strangle both, so they started running away from the very VERY angry Haechan yelling all sorts of profanities at them.

This time Renjun didn't hold back his laughter instead, he laughed so hard he fell on his but causing the demonic duo to stop and laugh but run as soon as they realise Haechan is still trying to murder them.

Jeno shook his head at the sight and smiled. He then turned and walked towards Jaemin who was zoning out again.

“So....” Jeno started and Jaemin looked at him “You and y/n are dating now?”

Jaemin sighed.

Jeno tripped and fell onto the floor.

Jisung had crashed into Jeno.

He was laughing at Chenle who had tripped over the Renjun who was laughing his ass off on the grass and fell face flat while running away from Hyuck.

Haechan couldn't stop himself from running.

He tripped over Jeno and Jisung too.

Everyone was on the floor.

There was lots of shouting.

And laughing.

And Jaemin answered Jeno's question as this all took place in sequence like Domino's.

He whispered a quite 'yes' and walked away.

No one noticed.

Everyone was now on the floor all tangled up yelling at each other to get up first.

No one noticed Jaemin's smile as he walked away either.

...

You got your promised sandwich in your shared math class with Jaemin. You felt a little too bold today, so you sent another wink and flying kiss his way.

You may have also overly enjoyed his flustered face, so you held his hand as you walked to your next shared class P.E. and you may have smiled in triumph when Jaemins cheeks turned pink and he got all shy.

You also may have been a little too bold so when no one was looking you kissed his hand and then skipped away. And maybe that felt a little more than Platonic to you.

That's the thing it was always maybe, you never had a definite choice of words because you were always confused, so it was always maybe.

School soon ended, and you waited for the only person who walks home with you because you go the same way- Jaemin. You knew that he would be late. He always was. Every Wednesday. He shared his last class with Oh Miri, and he always helps her pack up and carries her things for her to her locker. It's because he obviously likes her. And you think they'll be a cute couple and you'll be happy if Jaemin finally asks her out. You really will be happy for him. Really.

You bid goodbye to Renjun and Chenle as they both head home. You said bye to Jeno too as you pass the turf where he has his practices. You see Haechan at the gate and wave bye to him too. Jisung and you talk about a new way to prank Renjun this time before he too has to leave.

You frown now and look at the time on your phone, was Jaemin latter than usual? Turns out he wasn't late and the low voice that whispered “missed me?” which startled you a bit, confirmed it. You turned around to come face to face with Jaemins smile that you are convinced produces light because of how bright it was.

“So...babe, how was your day?” Jaemin asked cheeky smile on his face. You shook your head and chuckled slightly as you answered him “It was good Nana you can stop joking around now”.

You saw Jaemins smile falter for a second. Or maybe you just imagined that. Nope, no definitely did not imagine that because now he was full on pouting.

“You're already breaking up with me y/n? But I thought we loved each other” he said using his sad baby voice.

You roll your eyes at his antics and held onto his arm ready to drag him “Come on Nana we need to go home”

“Aww but today's our first day! Shouldn't I get a first kiss!” Jaemin protested still not moving as you tried to pull him. Thank god you were facing another direction so he couldn't see how much that made your face heat up and how flustered it made you. You knew he was only joking. Right. His tone didn't sound the least bit serious. You're just imagining things.

You gave him, what you hoped sounded like a small laugh instead of a strangled one “Seriously stop kidding I'm pretty sure it won't help with your Oh Miri situation”

It was weird to see Jaemin so confused, but maybe it was because he was confused about how you knew about his crush when he hasn't told anyone yet.

“What situation with Oh Miri...?” Jaemin asked still confused. Still keeping up the act huh.

“Oh please, I know you like her and chill I'll help you out if you want. I don't really see any reason for you to hide your crush on her. She's really sweet and you two would make a cute couple and if you keep up this act it might be misleading to her considering she's still around and will think you're taken” you kept in rambling but stopped when you saw Jaemins blank expressionless face.

The atmosphere felt awkward, so you said a “yea...” to kind of end your entire ramble and to cut through the sudden silence.

“Oh” was all that Jaemin said.

“Yep”

“So I win?”

“Huh?”

“I win don't I?”

“What?”

“The bet”

“Bet…?”

“You didn't date me, you owe me” Jaemin simply said shrugging.

Then realisation dawned on you, you bet him that you would date the first person that came up to you.

You sighed in defeat “Fine you win. Where do I treat you this time”?

“Not just treat me” Jaemin shook his head “Take me out on a date where you of course pay” he smiled that stupid smile of his and your jaw dropped.

“If you think about it you're losing without actually loosing” he smiled.

And you kept looking at him in shock. But what about Oh Miri...?

“See you didn't date me” he fake pouted “But I wanted to date you and since I won the bet and could ask for whatever I'm asking you to date me” Jaemin smiled his mischievous smile.

”I-” you started but couldn't form a single sentence.

“It's okay I know my genius left you speechless.” he said putting his hand on your head and leaning on it.

“I got a free meal and a girlfriend because you can't win bets” he smirked and ran for it because now you snapped out of your dazed moment and were ready to jump him.

Jerk played you like a guitar.

“THIS IS CHEATING” you yelled as you chased him all the way home.

You did catch up to him enough to throw your pencil case at his head. He whined. You smiled. He smiled. Things went good.

You went on that date. The two of you were official now.

You were always indecisive about your feelings and always stuck on maybe so Jaemin just made the right decision for you.

“You know you should ask me to be your girlfriend properly” you had said on your date.

“You want dramatic?”

“No-”

“I'll give you dramatic” Jaemin had replied with a smirk.

You should have known not to trust that smirk because trouble (for you) always followed it.

Trouble happened Friday morning.

There in the center of the hallway stood your boyfriend with a shit eating grin. The reason for that grin being the hallway that was entirely covered with posters of your face poorly edited onto a burger with the wordings 'My Snack' on it.

You shut your eyes and slowly inhaled and slowly exhaled through gritted teeth.

Your eyes snapped open.

“I'M BREAKING UP WITH YOU JAEMIN NA”

“YOU CAN'T YOU LOVE ME” was heard at the end of the hallway form Jaemin who had already bolted.

“Then you better run cus I'm breaking your Legs!”

“Already running!” The now barely audible voice of a rapidly retreating Jaemin was heard.

Bonus:

You brought Jaemin coffee because you felt bad for attacking him.

“I can kiss you now but what more has changed” Jaemin sat pouting with his coffee in his hand after being attacked by you.

You laughed and kissed him.

#nct #jaemin #jaemin imagines #fanfic #nct imagines #fluff #idk what this is #first imagine #okay i really dont know how to tag

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yyxgin · 4 years

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LO-FI CHILDREN — YANG JEONGIN

pairing: childhood best friend! yang jeongin x fem! reader genre: coming of age (??), best friends to lovers au, kind of slow-burn, fluff, a tiny bit of angst word count: 9.5 k warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, a lot of internal angsty monologue

YOUNGBLOOD DRABBLES

synopsis: your last two weeks before the end of summer break bring you a new sense of anxiety as you fear losing everything you’re used to.

“THROUGH HEAVEN AND HIGH WATER.”

Light shade falls into the space of Jeongin’s room, the room you’ve spent most of your days in the past three years of high school, the room you’ve made most of your high school memories at, while you sigh heavily at the thought of leaving next week and not having the comfort of coming back to it every day after school. The room has memories everywhere you look - from the polaroids you cheesily gifted your friend on his last birthday in a cute shoe box, from which he took them out and stuck them to the wall beside his bed, as if he wanted the comfort of looking at them the last moment before going to sleep and the first moment of waking up in the morning - to the medals from useless school competitions on his bulletin board on the opposite wall, to which you accompanied him every single time. You mourn at the feeling of losing something, even though in reality, it’s not your best friend you’re losing. It’s the routine you’re going to miss.

“I’m gonna miss your room, Jeongin,” you snicker, seeing your best friend playfully glare at you with a pained look on his face he pulls out every time you tease him for something.

“Woah, one would think you’d miss me out of everything, but yeah, I get it, my room plays a much more important role in your life than my presence itself,” rolls his eyes the dimpled boy, causing you to snicker. Of course you’re going to miss him. You’re going to miss everything from his playful teasing to his caring nature he showed to you rarely, and when he did, it was disguised in a form of short glances and noisy questions.

“I just don’t like the idea of coming home from school and not having the comfort of your room right when I need it,” you giggle, shrugging. It was his presence in the room that you’re going to miss the most, though. But you weren’t cheesy like that to say it to his face out loud. Maybe if you didn’t say it, it wouldn’t be true. As if you didn’t want to admit it to the world. If you don’t say it, it doesn’t exist. That’s how it works, right?

“You’re going to have the comfort of your new college dorm room, and that is just as good. If not better,” grins Jeongin, and in a sense, he’s right. Your college is just what you’ve always dreamed of, from the literature major you’ve chosen long time ago to the way dorms just look way more comfortable than your own, small room at your house. You bet the college is filled with educated and smart people you’ve always wanted to accompany yourself with, from the cool hipster girls you’ve only read about in your young adult books to smart guys with cute rounded glasses and alternative rock music playing in their headphones. It’s everything you dreamed of and more. And you got in. That’s the path you’ve chosen for yourself in your life. You think you made the right decision. It definitely feels right to you.

The only thing that feels wrong is that Jeongin is no longer going to be by your side every day of your boring life. Yang Jeongin has always been there for you. Every single day of your high school experience, every single day of your growing up. He was there when you got your first goldfish and he was there when you had to flush it down the toilet after forgetting to feed it for a few days. He was there when you cried on pepero day, because your poor self got no snacks when you were ten, making him share his sweets with you and tickling you until you cried of laughter, because that was his only way of cheering you up at that time. He watched you grow. And you watched him grow. You were like two trees in a garden, roots intertwined, because they grew at the same place. You shared your childhood with him. But now, the branches of each of your trees were growing apart, and you didn’t like the fact that you’re no longer going to grow side by side.

“But you’re not going to be in my college room, Jeong,” you snicker casually, as if to not show your vulnerable side to him now, when the reality is closer than ever and the day of your departure feels the realest it ever did.

“At least I won’t be there to annoy you anymore,” he grins, but there’s something behind his words and not so sparkly eyes that you understand all too very well. He doesn’t want to say goodbye. And neither do you. You both know the day will once come that you have to say the hurtful words, but the day was not today. So you’ll both just act like you don’t think about it every second of your miserable summer days, until the day comes and you can finally let it all out.

“I like your annoying, though,” you smirk, already missing the way he would always tease you about your good grades or when you foolishly got pouty over the smallest things, “life is boring without all your drama.”

“It’s not drama, excuse me? We have Hyunjin for that,” he giggles at the thought of his older friend who graduated just a year ago. You haven’t seen him in a while either. The fact that all your older friends left the town for college and came back only for holidays made you sick to your stomach, because that’s what you’re going to do now. With no contact with your small hometown and your childhood friends, with no contact with your family other than video calls and visiting them on their birthdays. What if the unbreakable bond you had with them breaks? What if you no longer feel like you belong to the small town when you come back one day? You feel like that would crush you the most. Not feeling like at home anymore.

“Whatever you say, Jeongin,” you mumble, coming closer to him and throwing yourself at his body laying on the bed. It’s nothing unusual for the two of you, considering you were called the biggest cuddlebug right after your friend Felix, but something about the gesture feels like you’re hugging him one of the last times in a long time. But this isn’t your last opportunity, so why does it feel like one?

His arms automatically hold you around the waist, your nose nuzzling into his neck. The smell of your best friend is all too familiar to you, and the softness of his bedsheets feels like coming home. You wonder if you’ll be able to get that feeling in your new dorm room, telling yourself that you’ll probably have to wash your sheets with the same fabric softener to feel like that again. You feel his heartbeat under you, your heart swelling at the giggle that escapes his lips when you shuffle a little on top of him to get yourself to a more comfortable position. Your head ends up at his chest, legs intertwined like the roots of the trees in his backyard, rosy cheeks reminding you of the heat of the summer that’s currently creeping on you outside of the house. It reminds you of the last week of summer. The last week you have with your best friend by your side.

“Why couldn’t you just choose the same college as me?” you ask, lips pouty. You know it’s a selfish question. You know Jeongin could probably ask you the same, but he wouldn’t. Because it seems he is much more accepting of the situation than you are. Jeongin has always been the more reasonable between the two of you.

“Because I don’t like literature.” he laughs under you, making your whole body shake with the impact.

“And? There are plenty of majors to choose from, at least we’d still be studying in the same building.” you mumble. You silently curse at yourself for sounding so needy and desperate. But the truth is, Jeongin is the only thing you are sure of in your life. And you aren’t ready for the feeling of security to go away.

“But there’s no acting major there.” he says, smoothing your back to relax your tense muscles. Does he realise how hard it is for you? Probably yes. He knows you like the back of his hand.

You bite on the chapped skin of your lips for a while, sighing. “I know. Sorry,” you say, voice low and defeated, “I shouldn’t be acting like this. It’s just…” you mumble, not being able to say it. You can’t say you’re going to miss him, because that would make it true.

“I know,” he sighs, poking your sides a little with his pointer finger, tickling you, reminding you of the way he used to do it when you were nine and he didn’t know how to talk about feelings yet, cutting off your sentence with an unspoken sense of understatement, “but the fact that we’re going to different college doesn’t change anything in our friendship, you know that, right?”

“Of course,” you hurriedly nod, looking into his eyes with sincerity, “I know. You can’t just earease our whole childhood with one stupid college.”

“Right,” he giggles, lightening up at the sight of your smile. It does look a little sad, but it’s enough for him. It’s the sign that you’re at least trying to look at it from the brighter side. “I’m always going to be the one to annoy you.”

“Right.” you nod, grinning, “nobody will ever take your place.”

“Nobody on this whole entire world,” he smirks, “not even a lanky indie boy with a book in his hand you dream of so bad, right?”

You laugh at his remark, shaking your head. “Not a chance.”

“Tell me, why exactly do you choose to water your plants at night?” giggles Jeongin at your figure pacing around your tiny room with a glass of water in your hand, because you didn’t manage to buy yourself a proper watering can in the long five years of owning the beautiful greenery. You turned to taking care of plants and flowers after the disaster that was your first and only goldfish, because it seemed like much less work than to look after an animal, but you always forgot to water your plants when you were supposed to and only came to think of it at late nights full of overthinking, when your legs hurriedly shot up and you turned to water the poor creatures so you wouldn’t forget about it in the morning.

“They like it that way,” you say instead, grinning at your stupid excuse, “and be quiet, my parents are already sleeping and I don’t need my mum to come here and shout at me again like the last time.”

This was probably your last sleepover of this year. You had sleepovers at each other’s places quite often, but you chose your room as the destination 9 out of 10 times, because Jeongin had siblings and it was easier to have some privacy at your house, considering you were an only child.

“Right, right,” he whisper-shouts and puts a hand over his mouth in a poor attempt to muffle his giggling. The memory of your mother with baby pink hair-curlers comes into your mind, the image of her shouting at the two of you to shut up because she has to go to work the next morning appearing much more funnier in the late hours of night than it originally was. She told you you two weren’t allowed to have any more sleepovers that night, but you both knew that was just a meaningless threat just so you two would be quiet already, because truth be told, sometimes you felt like she liked your best friend more than she liked her own daughter.

“So,” you shigh out as you plop to the bed next to him, the two of you passing the stage of one of you sleeping in a sleeping bag at the floor long, long time ago, “what were we talking about?”

“Oh, that,” he lights up at the mention of the previous topic of your conversation, sitting up so he is now resting his back against the wall next to your bed, glancing at your figure lazily lying next to him, “my parents are going away on the last saturday of the summer. And they're taking my siblings with them.”

You sigh again, knowing damn well where the conversation is going already. “And?”

“And the two of us are leaving on sunday. So that means…” he trails off, wanting you to finish his sentence like you always used to with his stupid ideas.

“That means…?” you act stupid, not really fond of his idea this time.

“That means I can throw my last high school house party!” he cheers, hands up in the air in a winning gesture, making you roll your eyes at him.

“You mean your first and last high school house party?”

“Exactly,” he nods with a big grin on his face, the proudness of finally being able to do that overflowing on his features, but it disappears soon as he notices you don’t mirror his happy expression and look uninterested instead.

“Hey, why aren’t you excited?” he asks, brows furrowed.

“It’s a stupid idea,” you shrug, simply looking away from your best friend gazing at you from under his long eyelashes, looking around your room instead, as if you didn’t know every single centimeter of it by heart already.

“Why do you think so? It’s not. And it’s also the last time I can invite all of our friends to hang out before they leave for college as well,” he says, thinking of all of your older friends that left for college before you and whom you dearly missed every single day of high school, because it wasn’t the same without your big group.

The 9-member friend group started slowly getting smaller and smaller once Chan and Minho graduated. Changbin graduated a year after that, leaving you with a 6-member friend group, which was still bearable and your table was still the loudest one at lunch, but after Felix, Seungmin, Hyunjin and Jisung graduated, the school halls became empty with only the two of you - the youngest ones of the group, remaining in high school. At least you still had each other. You really don’t know what you’d do without Jeongin by your side.

“Your mum would be mad if she found out,” you mumble, not meeting his eyes.

“And? She can’t stay mad at me for long when I’m leaving on sunday, she’ll get over it.” he shrugs, “come on, Y/N, I’m only gonna invite the nine of us, if it bothers you so much.”

“I just… I don’t know,” you sigh, finally meeting his eyes, “I don’t feel like throwing a party.”

“Stop being so melodramatic already,” teases you Jeongin, but you see something behind his eyes shift at your saddened expression. Is it really that hard for you? He hoped a party would surely cheer you up and make you forget about having to leave at least for one evening. He would be fine without a party, for sure, but he thought seeing your friends one last time would be good for you. He teases you, but you know what he means by his words. He wants you to stop being melodramatic, because he wants you to be happy. You’re not a bother to him when you’re sad, he just likes your smile much better than your frown. Because your smile, at least, doesn’t break his heart.

“Fine,” you sigh out after a while spent by a staring contest with your best friend trying to cheer you up by putting on silly expressions, “but only if you invite the 9 of us only.”

“Of course,” he nods with a grin, finally settling next to you on your bed and hugging you around the waist so you can cuddle up to him safely. He was rarely the one to initiate the cuddling between the two of you, but recently, he knows you need his cuddles more and more. Perhaps he feels like he’ll miss them too.

You huff out when he lands next to you, securing your hands around his on your waist, looking up to the ceiling. You’re not so fond of the idea of a party. Sure, it would be great to meet all your friends before leaving to all go your own ways a day later, but the idea of spending time with someone just to lose them the next week, in a way, makes you feel kind of sad.

You also wish you could just spend your last days with Jeongin. You’re acting like a clingy girlfriend, and you’re very much aware of that, but you can’t help it. You’ve spent all your days with Jeongin and nobody else last year. You share a special bond with him. You feel like once he’s not only one call or a 10 minute walk to his house away, something will be missing inside of you. It’s silly.

But can anyone really blame you?

“I wanna do something spontaneous before the summer ends,” you mourn out, sitting at the front porch of Jeongin’s house, the darkness of the summer night enveloping you like a warm blanket. You were supposed to be home a long time ago, but you guess your mother doesn’t really care where you are as long as she knows you’re with Jeongin. That, and you also heard her calling Jeongin’s mum a little while ago when you didn’t arrive home before your curfew, being notified by Mrs Yang that you may be staying over tonight. Actually, you had no idea if you’re staying over. You had no idea where this night was taking you. You just knew you felt empty, you felt bored. As if the summer was wasted.

“Like what?” asks Jeongin, kicking a rock under his black shoe, watching it bounce away from the front porch, glancing up at you right after.

“I don’t know. Like… dye my hair blue or something,” you laugh out, looking at him, “I just wanna do something, you know?” you snicker.

“Let’s do it, then,” he grins at you, standing up from his position next to you on the stairs and reaching out a hand for you to take.

“Let’s do what?”

“Let’s dye your hair blue,” he shrugs, looking at you with sparkling eyes, the lampposts behind his head making him look as if he had a halo around his head.

“Oh hell no, that was a joke,” you laugh out, shaking your head in disapproval.

“Yeah, and the mourning about wanting blue hair for the past two months was a joke as well, right?” grins Jeongin, still standing at his place with an out-stretched hand to you, “let’s go!”

“Let’s go where? We don’t even have dye and I can’t dye my hair on my own, and I’m enrolling in college on monday, I can’t show up with a blue head!” you mourn out, but giggle nonetheless, finding the idea amusing in a way.

“That’s not a problem, we can get that box dye in the convenience store. And I bet all the tall lanky literature major boys will fall on their asses when they see a cute girl with blue hair on their first day of college,” says Jeongin and forcefully makes you stand up on your own two feet, taking you by surprise by his compliment.

“Yeah, watch me fuck it all up and look like a sad blueberry on my first day of college,” you giggle, but follow his steps that are most likely heading to the convenience store.

“I will do it for you, you know I’m an expert at hair dye,” laughs out Jeongin, making you crack up at his comment.

“Jeong, bleaching your head once in eighth grade doesn’t count for being an expert at hair dye and you know that.” you roll your eyes, but still follow his footsteps with your hand in his, swinging your hands forward and backward like little children on a playground play-dating for the first time.

“As far as I’m concerned, it surely does.”

“It didn’t even look good in the first place, how am I supposed to trust you with my hair?” you laugh, seeing his playfully hurt expression accompanied by a dramatic gasp worth of Hwang Hyunjin himself.

“You told me it looked good back then!” he pouts.

“And I lied.” you shrug, “things like that happen.”

“This is such a bad idea, Jeongin, I will throw up, I swear to god-”

“Oh my god, chill, woman, it’s going perfectly fine!” giggles Jeongin and shows the glass of cheap wine you bought along-side with your box dye in the convenience store almost half an hour ago to your face with his hand dirty from the blue dye.

“You’re just saying that because you’re drunk.” you roll your eyes and drink the bitter liquid nonetheless, thinking that if it’s going to turn out horribly, at least you won’t register it at first if you’re drunk enough to not notice it.

“I’m not drunk,” giggles Jeongin as he smears another blob of hair dye onto the roots of your hair, “just a little tipsy.”

“Oh no,” you laugh out, knowing damn well Jeongin’s ‘just a little tipsy’ means ‘I can hardly know which one is you because I am seeing you twice’.

You two are currently sitting in his bathroom, you with your back turned to the mirror so you don’t have to see the disaster that is currently happening on your head, much better to Jeongin, because the light shines from that side and he can see what he’s doing better this way. It’s 2 in the morning and the cheap wine is starting to taste better after every gulp and truth be told, neither of you drink much and you only decided to do so tonight, because Jeongin kept whining about how he hasn’t used his ID to buy alcohol yet and he is now legally allowed to do so. You bought cheap wine, but forgot to buy plastic gloves, though. At least your hair isn’t going to be the only blue mess left when you wake up in the morning and Jeongin will pay for your spontaneous idea as well. With his stained hands, and his stained t-shirt too.

“Stop moving around, you’re making it difficult,” laughs Jeongin, praying in his head his mother doesn’t wake up and chime in to the bathroom to see the disaster happening, because even though he is a legal adult, he is one hudred percent sure she’ll confusticate his cheap wine and wash off your blue hair dye before it even has the chance to work.

“Are you sure it’s me moving or is it your head that’s spinning?” you giggle, finishing the glass of wine and putting it on the floor while your best friend’s hands are still in your head, your movement causing him to spread some hair dye all over your forehead. “Oh my god it’s in my eyes!” you laugh out, quickly shutting them so they won’t burn.

“No it’s not, you stupid, you just have it all over your forehead,” he grins and continues working, threading his fingers through your locks, your body leaning forward to the head of the chair he stole from the kitchen, relaxing.

“That feels good,” you mumble, noticing the way your sentence might sound a little weird in his ears and feeling your cheeks burn up instantly. You really do sound stupid sometimes, don’t you?

“What does?” he furrows his brows at you, clueless.

“You playing with my hair,” you confess, laughing a little to ease the tension you feel.

“Oh, does it?” he smirks, scratching a little at your scalp, earning a little whine from your lips that makes him giggle. “And we’re done!” he smiles as he stops, taking a step back to admire your blue, messily covered head.

“And now we wait,” you giggle, hearing him washing his hands in the sink, even though it doesn’t help him drown out the blue that is now on his hands for the time being.

“Look, we’re in this together,” he giggles, showing you his stained hands as he puts a plastic bag over your hair to make the dye work better, stopping in front of you and gazing into your eyes with his, slightly hazy ones due to the wine you both drank.

You snort at his comment, but continue to stare into his eyes. You notice how they sparkle, even though it may be due to the alcohol, but it still makes your heart flutter with the image of them that just seem so love-struck at the moment. Something inside of you wished he would look at you like that all the time. Like you held the world in your hands. Like you were the most important thing in his universe.

He breaks away the gaze just to poke your cheeks and get out a little laugh, turning away and taking a seat on the hard floor, against the bathtub, with his phone in his hands.

“I’m gonna set the timer so we don’t forget about that,” he informs you, seeing you nod.

“I doubt we’d forget though, I mean, I have a ridiculous amount of box dye on my head and it burns a little, so…”

“We had two glasses of wine, Y/N, everything’s possible at this point.” he snorts, finally looking back at you after setting his phone on the floor next to him, shooting you the look of admiration you experienced a minute ago once again, making you shy away from his eyes.

A comfortable silence overtakes the room, making you wonder how you even ended up in this position. The feeling of wanting to do something exciting overtook all your senses. It wasn’t like you to do such spontaneous things. Perhaps something inside of you just wanted to see how change feels for the first time. Perhaps your mind wanted to get used to the feeling of something new first, before having to experience the biggest change on monday.

This change felt good. Kind of exciting. But you’re not quite sure how leaving and changing the place you call home will feel next week. You bet it wouldn’t feel the same.

“Thank you, Jeongin,” you mumble after a while, locking eyes with the black-haired boy sitting on the floor.

“For what? For ruining your hair?” he giggles, his dimples on full display.

“No,” you roll your eyes, suddenly feeling sentimental, “for being my friend, you know? I know I’ve been a little annoying these past days, but I am just scared to leave, that’s all.”

You see him nod at you, smiling to himself. “I know. It’s okay,” he says, “but you don’t have to be scared. You’ll do great. I mean, you were the top student of our class. And you’re like, really smart, you know. There’s nothing to be worried about.”

You hum in response, nodding at his comment. He was right. But that wasn’t exactly the reasoning behind your silent worries. It wasn’t about your grades dropping or about you not being good enough. Truth be told, you never even thought about that. There was a deeper sense to your worries, but at the same time, they felt more silly than the ones Jeongin thinks live inside that head of yours.

You’re scared to leave your town. Your family. What if you don’t find any friends in your new college? What if you’re left alone? Alone turns to lonely really quickly, and there's nothing in this world you fear more than loneliness.

For the past year, you had no one else but Jeongin. With all your friends away, it was easy to get lonely. But Jeongin was always by your side. He never even gave you a chance to feel that way. Not once did you have a noisy thought in your brain that would make you feel like you have to be scared of being alone this past year.

But without Jeongin by your side, you’re sure you’ll feel it. The loneliness. You’ll feel lonely without his constant teasing. Without his honest eyes, without his bright smile. You’ll miss your best friend so much that it hurts you already.

What if he forgets all about you? What if you’ll grow apart completely? What if the branches of your trees won’t touch anymore, what if the bond you have will break? What will you do without his calls? Without his presence in your life?

You worry about that the most. Losing him to the distance. But you’ll never say it out loud to him. Not when the end is near.

And so you just smile and nod, humming in response. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

And with that, the alarm on his phone rings, signaling for you to wash the hair dye off, praying it doesn’t look like such a disaster as you feel like it’s going to.

“Mum can you please stop yelling? My head hurts,” you grunt while you sit at the kitchen table, putting your head into your hands and wiping them at your face.

“What did you think? Dying your hair blue a few days before enrolling in college?” she screams, making you rest against the chair and roll your eyes.

After rinsing off the blue hair dye at night, you fell asleep in Jeongin’s bed without even blow drying it, effectively staining his pillowcase as well, forgetting about the wine bottle in his bathroom and about your mother all together. Jeongin’s mum woke you up in the morning with the empty bottle in her hands and a questioning look on her face, telling you to run home, because your mother is causing a scene and she’s tired of listening to her screaming on her phone. Your and Jeongin’s mums were best friends, so you know she doesn’t exactly mean it, but you ran home with a sigh nonetheless without even looking at yourself in the mirror beforehand, preparing yourself for the screaming you’re gonna hear at home.

“I just wanted to have a little fun, that’s all!” you mourn out, looking at her with half-closed eyes, seeing her pacing around the kitchen.

“So you got drunk with Jeongin after you didn’t respond to my calls for the whole evening?!” she scolds you, seeing you sigh.

“I heard you calling Mrs Yang, I know you knew I was there,” you say, tying a strand of your freshly dyed blue hair around your finger and glancing at it. It didn’t look that bad, but you haven’t seen yourself in full display yet, so you can’t really tell if your best friend did a good job yesterday.

“And you’re just gonna glaze over the fact that you got drunk?” she looks at you with wide eyes.

“Mum, I’m literally 19, what do you expect me to say?” you burst out, glaring at her with sharp eyes. You really had no idea where she was coming from with this whole discussion.

She gazes at you for a while before sighing at taking a seat next to you, relaxing her tense muscles. “You’re right. You’re totally right, I’m just over-reacting,” she says, hands clasped on the table, “it’s just… You’re growing up so quickly and I’m not- I guess I’m not ready for you to leave quite yet.” she confesses, looking at you with sad eyes.

Your whole life, you haven’t left home for more than a week. You only did so one time when you went on a field trip with your school and even then, you missed your mother a little. The truth is that after Jeongin, it felt like she was your best friend. It sounds lame, but it is true. The almost idyllic relationship you share with your mother has always made you feel safe and loved. It’s going to be hard for you to not have your mother there to wake you up in case you slept in in the morning, or when you felt sad and wanted to mourn over a cup of hot chocolate in the evening while watching a soap opera.

You never realised your mother could miss you so much. I guess you were just so self-indulgent in your own pity you never realised other people could be scared of the change as well.

“I’m not either, mum,” you snicker, taking her hands into yours, “but there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

“I know, I know,” she nods, gazing into your eyes, “but it’s going to be empty here without you. I won’t have my soap opera partner here anymore.”

“We can watch soap operas together when I come home over holidays, don’t worry,” you smile at her, seeing her relax a little.

“You bet I’m going to annoy you and call you every evening just to make sure you’re okay,” she laughs at your face full of misery, enjoying the teasing.

“Please don’t, the college kids will think I’m not cool if you do,” you mourn, but on the inside, you’re screaming ‘please do’, because if you’re alone on the cold nights in your new dorm room, at least you know you always have your mother to lean on.

“Oh please, with that hair? Everyone will think you’re the coolest girl around,” she grins, pointing at the blue color of your hair, making you snort out in surprise.

“Does it really look cool?” you ask her, beaming with joy.

“As your mother, I’m legally not allowed to say that, but it doesn’t look twice bad, you know,” she says, making you jump out and move to the mirror on the wall in your hall, admiring your new image and admitting that your mother was, indeed, right, and you don’t really regret your spontaneous idea that sparked inside of your head yesterday.

“I’m surprised it’s not blotchy, considering you were drunk when you did that,” smirks your mum from behind you.

“Oh, Jeongin did that,” you point out nonchalantly, “and we weren’t that drunk yet, we finished the bottle after rinsing this off.” you giggle.

“Jeongin did?” she gasps in surprise, laughing.

“Yeah,” you shrug, “the wine was his idea as well, by the way, so if you wanna be mad at someone, it’s not me.”

Your mum shakes her head in amusement, laughing a little at you. Her little girl is growing up so well, she thinks. She looks at you as if she knew something you didn’t, making you quirk up your brow at her questioningly, but she just shrugs it off.

“Go and eat some breakfast, sunshine, you must be hungry,” she just says, making you grin.

“Okay,” you nod, moving back to your spacious kitchen, turning around in the doorway once more and shooting a teasing question to your mother, “does that mean I’m not grounded or anything? Because I have a party to attend this saturday.” you laugh.

“I’ll think about it, young lady.”

“Remind me again, why are you packing your things on a friday night? We could have been doing much more fun things than that,” mourns Jeongin as he watches you rummaging through your closet, picking up the things you’re going to take with you to a whole new, different city across the whole country.

“Because I have to leave at noon on sunday,” you huff out, “and you chose to have a party on saturday. And tell me, what other exciting fun things could we be doing right now?” you glare at him from across the room.

“I don’t know, like… watching anime?” he giggles, making you roll your eyes with a small smile of amusement.

“Yeah, right. Anime won’t pack my bags, though, so if you don’t wanna help, at least stop whining for a while.” you mumble, packing your shirts, throwing them into your carrier.

Jeongin rolls his eyes at you, but moves closer to your closet nonetheless, eyeing the mass of clothing inside, silently judging you for owning so much, even though you wear the same three shirts every week. His eyes stop at your hands, seeing something suspicious in them, eyebrows shooting up in question.

“Is that my shirt?” he laughs.

“No…” you mumble, feeling red in your cheeks, stuffing the white fabric into your bag, desperately trying to hide it from his eyes so he won’t tease you about it.

“I’m pretty sure it is.” he grins, catching the blush creeping onto your face. What was making you so flustered? It’s not like you haven’t worn his clothes before. He shares his shirts with you all the time when you sleep over.

“And what if it is? Once it spends more time in my closet than in yours, it’s automatically my shirt, you know.” you explain matter-of-factly, looking him in the eyes, finding a playful spark in them that is ever so present and familiar to you every time he teases you about something.

“Right, right,” he nods, leaning on the wall of your closet, “is there any reason why you’re packing that shirt with you for college?” he asks.

“No reason, I just like that shirt,” you nod, not once meeting his eye, because you’re sure you’d be a blushing mess if you did, desperately wanting him to change the topic and leave you and his shirt alone. It was embarrassing enough for you to keep it for that long, not even talking about you packing it with yourself for college. You never even wore it in the first place. Or Jeongin hasn’t seen you in it before, that is. He must have left the shirt there at one of his sleepovers accidentally, not caring about it enough to remember he lost it.

And the truth is, you never wore it. You just kept it because it smelled like your best friend.

Your mother definitely wasn’t so thrilled when you shouted at her in panic when she almost threw it into the wash one day, but she was understanding of your little secret. Your mother knew more about you than you ever did anyway.

“Is that so?” he asks, quirking up an eyebrow, sending shivers down your spine. You usually didn’t mind his teasing this much.

“Yeah.” you nod again, voice low and shy. There was a sense of unspoken words behind the simple response, but you had no courage in giving those words a name or a particular feeling yet. All you knew was that if you ever miss your best friend as deeply as you can only imagine you will, you hope the smell of his shirt will keep you company.

And as if your best friend knew, he doesn’t tease you any further. He just stands closer to you, hugging you around your waist from behind and playfully nudging your sides.

“Okay.” he says, voice barely louder than a whisper, his arms feeling like a home you’re soon going to lose.

The stairs of your best friend’s front porch are a familiar place to you. You know every lamppost in your vision, you know every noise around. You recognise every neighbourhood dog just by the sound of its bark. The chilly air or the summer night makes you shiver, a feeling of nostalgia overtaking your senses as you hear the background noise of the eight people inside, cursing at yourself for not being there with them to spend your last evening in your hometown with your closest friends.

It feels heavy, though. Listening to their laughter, knowing it’s going to be the last time you’re going to hear it in a while. Seeing them smile when you know that tomorrow, you’ll be so far away from each other. And it hurts to say goodbye.

You don’t feel like seeing Minho grin at you across the room when you know he won’t be there to tease you about being nervous from your first day of college on monday morning. You don’t feel like listening to Changbin’s stories when you know you won’t be there with him to make some new ones. You don’t feel like listening about Jisung’s and Hyunjin’s shared music major, because you’re secretly envious of the fact that they still get to meet each other every day. You don’t feel like watching Chan’s father-like smile when you know you won’t see it for such a long time. You don’t feel like watching Seungmin bickering with everyone when you know he won’t be there to make fun of you when you forget to change from your pyjama pants and go to school in them again. You don’t feel like sitting around in a hug with Felix when you’re more than sure you’re going to miss the way he so lovingly held you once you're sitting in your empty dorm room.

But you don’t feel like sitting there and watching your best friend laughing in his living room with a can of beer in his hand the most of it all. Because it feels like time’s running out. It feels like if you don’t soon do something, anything, all of those people will forever disappear, even though you know you will always have the chance to meet them on holidays.

You don’t want to look at them when your heart hurts at every chance of that encounter.

You miss them all already.

You turn around at the sound of the front door opening, seeing Chan standing there with his usual warm smile, but it doesn’t make you feel safe this time around. It makes you feel longing, it makes you feel like you’re far, far away already.

“Why are you just sitting here, Sonic?” he laughs, nudging your side with his elbow as he sits next to you on the stairs of the front porch, making you break out into a small smile at his teasing nickname comparing you to the blue cartoon character.

“I don’t feel like partying,” you shrug, not meeting his eyes just in case they tell on you. You watch the stars instead, noticing the way they have never shined brighter, as if they wanted to show you how beautiful they can be the last night you spend in your hometown.

“Don’t be scared,” mumbles Chan, putting his hand on your thigh, comforting you, “you know we’re all just one call away, right? We may not see each other that often anymore, but that doesn’t mean you’re losing us, you know that,” he says, speaking the words you needed to hear for a really long time now, making you look at him with a sad smile on your lips.

“Yeah, I know,” you nod, seeing that father-like smile appear on his lips again. Chan has always been like your older brother to you. He knew you like the back of his hand. You almost forgot how see-through you always were for the boy when he left for college three years ago.

“But this isn’t about us anymore, is it?” he grins playfully, but still considerably enough to not hurt your already fragile feelings.

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. He really did know you better than you knew yourself, huh? There was something about Chan that always made him seem like a trained therapist. Maybe it was because he was the oldest of your friend group, always taking care of the eight of you whenever something bad happened. He looked after you all. His heart has always been full of gold.

“No,” you shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek, lost in thought.

“You’re not losing him. Ever,” he says firmly, “I promise.”

“Chan, I-”

“For the past year, it was just the two of you. The two of you against the whole world. Do you really think he would throw away something like that just because he won’t have the chance to see you every day?” says Chan, gazing at you with caring eyes.

“No,” you shake your head, “but the distance… I will miss him so much.” you say, feeling actually kind of relieved after the confession you kept all inside without being able to say it out loud for so long. Because once you say it, it’s there. It’s the truth.

But that’s how it is, it is the truth. You will miss your best friend so, so much.

“But he’ll always be there, the distance doesn’t change anything,” Chan says, voice warm.

“What if-” you start, laughing at yourself in self-pity, “what if he finds someone better there? What if he won’t feel like he needs me anymore? It will be so lonely without him, Chan.”

Chan gazes at you for a while, as if he was studying the way your eyes held all the sadness they possibly could at the very moment, before he speaks up again. “Tell him.”

“Tell him what?” you ask, furrowing your brows at Chan.

“You know what I mean,” he says, laughing light-heartedly.

And you know what? He’s right. You know what he means. And maybe you always knew, but you just never said it out loud. Because once you say it, it’s there, and it’s the truth. And hiding from that truth was all you did these past months, even though it’s always been there.

You shake your head again, as if to let him know how well he knows you, staring off to the distance. You feel like you know every car that passes by, every bird that chirps from the tree branches in Jeongin’s back yard. This place feels like a home to you. And you’re not ready to leave home yet. You’re not ready to leave Jeongin.

“Don’t be scared okay?” asks Chan, standing up, but you know that this time, he means it in a whole different sense. Something about his words makes you calm down, nodding at him.

“Are you leaving already?” you ask, seeing him nod.

“Gotta leave early tomorrow,” he says, mimicking your sad smile, “call me when you arrive in your dorms, alright? I wanna hear all about it.” he says, making you smile.

“I will.” you say, seeing him take long steps backwards until he’s at the end of Jeongin’s driveway, waving his hand at you with a bright grin on his face.

“Bye! I’ll visit you some time!” he calls, ignoring the silent hours, knowing damn well Jeongin’s neighbours don’t care about those ever since the last time you went out and screamed out all your bottled-up frustration from your failed maths test last year with Jeongin.

“It’s a three hour long drive, Chan!” you shake your head.

“And?”

“And you don’t even have a car!” you laugh, seeing him burst out into a fit of giggles.

“I’ll find a way, believe me!” he says, and with that, he leaves. The empty space next to you on the front porch makes you feel sad now, contemplating going inside the house and at least trying to talk to your friends one last time, when you hear the door open again, revealing Jeongin standing there with a frown on his face.

He doesn’t ask you anything, nor does he say anything as he takes a seat next to you, much like Chan did just a few minutes ago. His eyes don’t even meet yours. All you feel is pure melancholy, pure longing for the boy next to you, pure love beating out of your chest as he leans his head onto your shoulder and places a hand on your knee.

You swear you could do it any time. Say it. Just three words - that’s all. Easy. But you know that maybe if you did, saying goodbye would be much harder for you in the morning. It wouldn’t feel right, leaving him with the knowledge you spilled your deepest secret to him.

And so you do the next closest thing, you say the next closest words to the three most important ones just sitting at the tip of your tongue: “I’ll miss you.”

The words feel so vulnerable. So intimate. Like you’re spilling out your heart to him.

“I will miss you too,” he says back, voice muffled and sad. He said it. It just made it real.

You look at him, his head coming off your shoulder, seeing the sparkle in his eyes mirror the stars in the night sky, reminding you of the beauty of your hometown, because to be honest, no place feels closer to home than when you're in his arms. Your breath hitches in your throat, your body shivering under his gaze. He wears the same love-struck drunken gaze in his eyes, but this time, you’re sure he’s not drunk enough for you to confuse his feelings for alcohol.

Your eyes flicker to his lips, hesitantly looking into his eyes for any sign of rejection, but finding none as he leans in a little, nudging his nose with yours.

This surely isn’t your smartest idea. But it sure does feel like one.

You can almost feel his lips on yours, the ghost of them glazing over yours with his warm breath, when the front door opens for the third time this evening, making both of you jolt away from each other as Jisung’s loud voice cuts through the silence.

“Here you are! I was looking for you two!”

You look at Jeongin with wide, rounded eyes, seeing him gazing to the ground. The expression breaks something inside of you, making you brokenly smile at the boy in the doorway currently looking the two of you up and down, forcing out a laugh.

“Yeah. Here we are.” you say, passing past him, entering the living room to hopefully drown your feelings out in the noise of the seven people left in the place, desperately needing to forget about everything - your college, your mum, your friends, Jeongin - everything.

The kiss didn’t feel like your best idea anymore.

You load the trunk of your mother’s old white mini cooper with the luggage you packed with Jeongin on friday, a frown sitting on top of your lips as you take a look around your house for the last time in months. It will be weird to not see your small house every day. You never knew you could miss that place.

Sunlight hits your eyes as you watch your mother step out of the house, looking at you with a sense of pride, opening her arms wide so you can hug her goodbye. You lounge yourself into her body, breathing in her fruity perfume, feeling like you have to breathe in enough so you can remember the smell even when you’re far away. It’s another smell that reminds you of home. You never realised it until it felt like it was too late.

“Be careful on the roads, yeah? I didn’t leave you my car for you to break it somewhere on your first day of driving it, alright?” she says with a playful, scolding tone of her voice, although you know damn well she doesn’t mean it harshly. She just doesn’t want to say it with a sincere tone of voice, knowing her sensitive daughter might just cry if she does so.

“Right, right,” you nod, breaking away from the motherly hug, seeing her eyes move somewhere behind you, a knowing look settled on her features.

You turn around, seeing Jeongin standing at the end of your doorway, out of breath, a worried look plastered on his face as he watches you take long, slow steps to his figure.

“Hi-”

“I thought you left without saying goodbye!” he screams out at you, making you painfully look to the ground. His words hurt you. Because you know how worried he must have been when he thought you didn’t even care enough about him to hug him one last time.

The truth is, you wanted to do it. Leave without a word. You woke up in the morning on the sofa in his living room, visiting his room to find him in his bed soundly asleep, the warm light flowing through the blinds making him look ethereal. The reality hit you at the sight. It felt too hard to say it. To finally leave.

“I’m sorry, Innie-” you start, only to be cut off by your best friend again.

“Why are you pushing me away? Now, out of everything? When we have so little time left together?” he almost mourns, hands shooting up in the air.

You look around helplessly, seeing your mother disappeared into the house to give you two some privacy, already knowing what is the topic behind your conversation without you even needing to enlighten her in the first place. It’s so visible in both of your eyes. Nobody had to be told to know about the feelings you share for the other.

“I’m not…”

“Yes you are. What are you so afraid of, Y/N? I’m not disappearing just because I’ll be away,” he helplessly shakes his head, frustration written all over his face.

A lump forms in your throat, making you forcefully swallow it down, looking into his eyes. “What will I do without you? This doesn’t make it any easier for us, Jeongin, and I don’t want to be in pain for all this time without you.”

“Just because you refuse to say it out loud doesn’t mean it isn’t there, you know,” he says, gazing into your eyes, reading your mind perfectly.

You stare into his face again, admiring his features as if it was your last time to see them. His beautiful eyes that always looked at you with admiration. His pretty lips that looked so inviting ever since the moment you two shared at his front porch yesterday. The hair falling into his face, obviously not brushed at all today, since he ran all the way here after not finding you by his side in the morning like he thought he would.

You stare into his face again and your heart beats with admiration, because Jeongin’s right. Just because you refuse to say it out loud, doesn’t mean you don’t love him. And the fact that you confess won’t make it any harder for you. You would still miss him the same.

“I-” you choke on your words, seeing him shake his head.

“If you won’t say it, I will,” he speaks up, leaning in closer to you, his hand finding its way onto your cheek, his starry eyes gazing into yours as his breath glazes over your lips again, “I’m in love with you.”

You almost feel your eyes well up with tears just in time when his lips meet yours, shutting them close, immersed in the feeling of the kiss. It feels like your lips were made for him to kiss. Like the two of you were the trees in his backyard, so close to each other, always meant to have your branches and your roots intertwined.

You feel like you never want to pull away, but after a while, you’re forced to.

“Jeongin, I-” you take a deep breath, feeling the time ticking as you know you have to leave soon or you’ll come late, “I’m in love with you too.”

He nods, a wide grin settled onto his features, acting as if he knew all along and he just wanted to hear the words leave your mouth.

And there they were.

You said it, so it made it true.

You were in love with him.

But the truth is, you always have been. You just refused to admit it to yourself.

And so with the last kiss before you hopped into your mum’s old mini cooper, you try to remember how it feels, you try to remember how Jeongin’s lips taste against yours.

They taste sweet. Soft. Just like him. You try to remember how your heart flutters with every butterfly touch of his hand, you try to engrave his glittery eyes into your memory.

Because this is what you’ll think of when you feel the most alone in your first days of college. You’ll think of Yang Jeongin and the feelings he made you feel. You’ll think of home.

Because your heart has always felt at home when he securely held it in his hands.

“Call me when you get there,” he mumbles against your lips.

“I will,” you nod, not ready to let him go just yet.

“And don’t fall for any lanky literature major while you’re there, okay?” he giggles, nudging your nose with his, making you laugh.

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“Good.” he nods.

“Good.” you repeat, gazing into his eyes.

“I’ll visit you when I can.”

And you know he’ll keep his promise. The ride will be long, but Jeongin will do everything just to feel at home. Because the only thing you two need to feel at ease is each other. And he’s not planning on disappearing just yet.

Not now, when he finally has you.

Not ever.

#districtninewriters #vracha #kafenetwork #stayhavennet #stayverse #straykidsland #kpopscape #stray kids imagine #stray kids scenario #stray kids fluff #stray kids au #stray kids x reader #yang jeongin imagine #yang jeongin scenario #yang jeongin fluff #yang jeongin au #yang jeongin x reader

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cuddlepilefics · 4 years

Text

Whumptober Day 20 – Sniffles

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Bang Chan

Caregiver: Stray Kids (mostly Felix)

Changbin‘s POV.:

3racha was currently sitting in Chan‘s studio producing new songs for our next comeback. Chan sat in front of the computer, showing us his latest tracks but somehow today didn‘t seem to be his day. He was constantly searching for the folders he had saved his work in but seemed to get lost in the depths of his memory card. I look over at Jisung, trying to catch his eye but he was too focused on the computer screen. Picking up my phone, I opened a chat to text Jisung:

B = Binnie; J = Jisung

B: Does Chan seem off to you too?

J: Define „off“

B: I don‘t know, maybe he has a headache, he‘s squinting at the screen and he‘s usually a lot more oriented searching for files.

J: He probably slept too little again, leave him be.

And with that I did but I couldn‘t help but have a bad feeling in my gut. Half an hour later, we decided to take a break and go get lunch. For lunch we decided to get some spicy noodles from a place close to the company building. We ordered take out and went back to the studio, why all of us had gone out to pick our food up, considering we went back to the studio to eat, was a mystery to me but I was thankful for getting up and moving after just sitting there for hours. I made a lucky pick, my meal was really delicious though I had no idea what to expect when I ordered it. While we ate, Jisung and I discussed where we should get our lunch on occasions like this, I personally was already in love with this new noodle restaurant, Jisung on the other hand preferred getting pancakes. It soon ended up with the two of us bickering and teasing each other for our food choices. Chan however didn‘t join our conversation, neither did he really eat. After the first two bites he had started to sneeze frequently, complaining how the spices made his nose tingle. It was kind of funny so Jisung and I soon started teasing him too. We finished our meal laughing, well, Jisung and I did. Chan just threw the rest of his noodles out before heading to the bathroom to blow his nose. While he was gone, Jisung spoke up: „I thought about what you said earlier. I think you‘re right, Chan‘s not really himself today. And what was that about? It‘s usually Minho sneezing from spicy food, not him.“ I wanted to reply but right then Chan came back in so I just shot Jisung a meaning full look before getting back to work.

It wasn‘t the same as this morning however, Jisung and I were more focused on studying our leader in an attempt to read him and figure out what was up today. Chan wasn‘t as focused on the computer in front of him either, he kept sniffling and rubbing at his nose with the cuff of his sleeve. Two hours later we accepted defeat, agreeing that we hit a block and wouldn‘t get any further today. Chan would have to leave in thirty minutes anyways to meet with some of our managers so we saved our files and packed up. Right as we were about to go on our different ways I stopped Chan for a moment: „Hyung, are you sure you‘re alright? You seemed a bit off to day and it‘s not like you to react to spicy food the way you did.“ – „I‘m fine, Binnie.“ – „You‘re sure you‘re not sick?“, Jisung piped in pretty straight forward. „Just caught a bit of the sniffles, Sungie. I‘m alright. Anyways, I need to get going, meet you later at the dorm.“, and with that Chan was gone.

Turning to me Jisung frowned: „What does he mean? What are the sniffles?“ I had no idea so I just shrugged: „Let‘s asked Felix when we get back, that‘s certainly some kind of slang they use.“ So we made our way to the dorm, both on our phones as our internet research of the sniffles didn‘t turn up anything.

Felix‘s POV.:

I was in my room playing video games. Since most members were gone and it was only me and Minho home, I was pretty surprised when Jisung came in. Weren‘t they supposed to be back later or did I lose track of time again? I always do when I play. „Hey Lixxie, what are the sniffles?“ Now I was completely caught off guard, what was he talking about? „Where did you here that?“, I questioned. „Chan-hyung was acting off all day and when we asked what was up with him he said he just caught a bit of the sniffles.“, he explained. „Ah, he means he just has a runny nose.“, I explain furrowing my brows. „But…. That‘s a lie. I‘m pretty sure it‘s more than that“, Jisung looked at me utterly confused. „Well, duh, of course it is. We‘re talking about Chan. If he admits that much, it‘s probably a bad cold, otherwise he wouldn‘t even mention it.“, I frown, was hyung sick? We left my bedroom and met Changbin and Minho in the living room. We sat down around the coffee-table and discussed our next steps. Our leader was always taking care of us so well, so we wanted to do the same for him, if our conclusion was correct.

„What if we just all have soup for dinner? Then it wouldn‘t be too suspicious if he doesn‘t want us to take care of him“, Changbin offered. Jisung and I were fast to agree since it was easy picturing Chan-hyung getting defensive. „Alright but I‘ll cook. I have lived alone before, I know how to do it, you would only set the kitchen alight“, Minho decided. So it was decided and Minho got up and went to the kitchen, while I shot Chan a short text to check on him. Jisung and Changbin texted the rest of our members to share the information and ket the in on our plan to help the leader out discreetly.

Chan‘s POV.:

Ugh, I had woken up to a pounding headache this morning. When I had greeted my members at breakfast, my throat was on fire and I just hoped, they didn‘t notice how hoarse I sounded. I had dressed in a thick hoodie and comfortable pants, as I felt a bit shivery. Before heading out to the studio I had taken a painkiller for my headache and chugged it down with some cool water to soothe my throat. At the studio I had really struggled with my laptop, the screen was way too bright and I couldn‘t remember where I had saved my files. I had felt progressively cold so I voted for Changbin‘s idea of getting spicy noodles in hopes to warm me up. The spices hadn‘t really done me a favor and only led to me sneezing my head off. I was now walking to meet our managers but my nose still hadn‘t stopped running. The rest of 3racha could tell something was up but let it slide when I was willing to acknowledge my runny nose. Using the cuff of my hoodie I dabbed some of the moisture away and prepared myself mentally for the meeting ahead. It was cruel, my nose was constantly itching and running but blowing it would have been very impolite so I just kept sniffling, getting more and more stuffed up as the meeting continued.

Almost two hours later we were done, my voice had gotten raspy with all the talking I had been doing and I thanked our managers nasally for their efforts when we bid goodbye. As soon as I was on my own, I went to the closest restroom and blew my nose. The action sent a strong tingle through my sinuses and I caught two wet sneezes in a paper-towel. Feeling downright sick now, I splashed some water on my face to rid myself of the drowsy feeling that came with my cold. How am I going to keep this from my dongsaengs? I don‘t want them to worry as I am usually the strong one who watches out for them. After washing my hands I pulled out my phone only to find a message from my fellow Aussie:

F: hey, you doing alright? Jisung was really confused what you meant by „sniffles“

I sighed, I should have known better than telling them, at least I should have chosen my words differently. I typed a short reply before putting my phone away:

C: I‘m ok, just a little cold. I‘ll be back in a few minutes anyways. See you

And with that I exit the restroom heading back to the dorm. Arriving there I quickly changed into sweatpants, stuffed a few clean tissues into the pockets and met the rest of my members in the living room.

Changbin‘s POV.:

Minho had gone straight to the kitchen to prepare some soup as we waited for the rest of the group to return for dinner. Our leader was the last to return, arriving with a cough before disappearing to his room. When he came to meet us in the living room I couldn‘t help but notice his disheveled appearance. He seemed to have made a fast decline since Jisung and I had left him in the afternoon. The circles around his eyes were darker now and his nostrils had taken on a raw shade of pink. His lips were chapped and slightly parted to allow him to breathe through his mouth. I tried to make eye contact to greet him but his eyes were half closed most of the time and when I finally managed to get a look at them I was shocked at how glossed-over they were. There was no doubt in my mind anymore, Chan-hyung was sick. „Hey, how was the meeting?“, I approached him since he wouldn‘t meet my eyes. „It was alright, seemed to drag on forever though“, he replied hoarsely with a forced laugh. „Minho already made dinner, hope you‘re as hungry as we are“, I announced earning a tired smile from our leader who followed me to the dining-table. Minho was handing bowls of soup to everyone. „Thanks Minho. So, the next tour is planned out now, we‘ll get the official schedule within the next few days. It‘s gonna be a bit stressful but it sounds fun“, Chan announced clearing his throat afterwards. „Thank you hyung. How about we us tonight to relax one last time before the schedule starts up?“, Hyunjin proposed receiving hums of approval.

Chan‘s POV.:

I‘m sure they know, they might feel like they‘re being really secretive but I know they would only accept soup for a meal if someone was sick and Hyunjin‘s plan to relax kind of gave it away. It‘s not like I‘d mind, Minho really did well with cooking and the warm liquid soothed my dry throat, besides those kids were eating something healthy for once. However, I‘ll have to finish some editing on my laptop after dinner. Ugh, the steam was making my nose run like crazy and I soon turned into a sniffly mess. Excusing myself I hurried to the bathroom to blow my nose. It hurt since my skin was already quite raw but I tried to clear my airways as much as possible, knowing my nose would just run more as soon as I continued eating. When I returned to the table I caught Changbin watching me and gave him a tired smile which he returned before picking up his own spoon again.

Hyunjin‘s POV.:

We finished our dinner in silence which was very rare in this group, only interrupted by the small wet sniffles coming from our leader. When the table was cleared said leader excused himself to his room and my eyes followed him with a doubtful look. Seungmin put a hand on my shoulder: „He is not going to rest, is he?“ I shook my head unsure. Felix walked past us with a smile: „I‘ll go check. If he doesn‘t I‘ll make him.“ And he was gone with a giggle. I followed him, standing in the door frame and watching the scene unfold in front of me. Chan was standing at his desk about to set up his laptop, unaware of the younger Aussie sneaking up on him. Then suddenly Felix tackled him sideways, away from the desk and onto the bed next to it. „Lixxie, I‘ll have to finish up a few things“, Chan gasped surprised. „No, you‘re not going to work anymore today“, Felix denied climbing on top of the older pinning him down as he tried to get up. Usually Felix would have been no match to the older but today Chan was to weak to fight him off. „Lixxie“ – „No, your favorite Koala wants cuddles“ – „Lix, I need to get up!“ – „No“ – „Lix-„ – „No“, the younger argued with finality. I suppressed a giggle as I watched Chan struggle, what I wasn‘t aware of was how his breath had started to hitch. He tried to twist sideways as much as possible with Felix on top of him and threw his arm over his face, tensing as he sneezed a rough-sounding double into the crook of his elbow. „Ugh, bless me!“, Chan groaned with a sniffle. Felix who was taken by surprise agreed: „Yeah, bless you!“ Catching his breath, Chan started to struggle again but Felix was now laying on top of him wrapping him in a tight hug while at the same time making sure he wouldn‘t get up. „You‘re not gonna move!“, he argued again and apparently Chan had tired himself out because he stopped squirming so much and instead returned the hug. „mhm, ‚m not gonna move“, he mumbled muffled by Felix‘ sweater. Felix made eye contact with me and we exchanged a smile. I ducked out of the room quickly to fetch the fluffy blanket that Felix kept at the foot of his bed. Upon returning I threw the blanket over them receiving a quite „thank you“ from Felix, Chan might already be passed out judging by his calm breathing, so I left after turning off the lights and shutting the door behind me. I‘m confident Felix had it handled.

#sick #sickfic #skz #stray kids #bang chan #fanfic #whumptober #whumptober2020 #fluff

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civilization-illstayrighthere · 5 years

Text

indulgences, 3.8k PWP vicar Maximillian desoto / m! Captain fic (spoilers for ‘the empty man’)

The Captain is stonily silent as they slosh through the shin-deep water of Fallbrook’s River, away from the cowering, but still very much breathing form of Reginald Chaney. Felix keeps nervously glancing between him and the vicar.

“Wow,” He laughs, “That almost got ugly, right?”

There’s silence. Felix tries again: “First time we haven’t rushed into a fight, huh? The guy would have had it coming, though.”

The Captain grunts back a noncommittal answer. Max sighs.

“It’s for the best. Can we drop it, Felix?”

“Yeah, I mean, I was kinda hoping to sock him one, but I guess—“

“Can we drop it, Felix?” The Captain echoes, stopping in his tracks. Max doesn’t like his tone. Felix shrinks. The two of them were close— two oft-obnoxious, dimwitted C&P peas in a pod. Occasionally refreshingly insightful in their ignorance, but mostly annoying, especially in Mr. Millstone’s case. Usually they were the ones to gang up on him, overriding his levelheaded ideas in favor of whatever was louder and flashier—

But, from the glare the Captain spares him as he continues walking, he’s not on Max’s side, either.

He can’t blame him, exactly. He had, after all, been lying to the Captain from the time he saw the man wander into his church with a blood-crusted pulse hammer strapped on his back and Ms. Holcomb following hesitant on his heels. He had been lucky it was her whom he had been paired up with, instead of some of the other inhabitants of Edgewater; she barely knew him from the Architect’s first man.

But it had been a just lie, hadn’t it? The book— the book was in fucking French, a language on Halcyon only spoken in advertisement jingles for mockapple pie a la mode. His fault as well for trusting a convict, but he’s been searching for the answers to the Plan since seminary, for twenty-four law-damned years.

As soon as they reach the shore, Felix is more than happy to split.

“I’m gonna, uh— head on out to the bar,” he jerks a thumb behind him. The vicar rolls his eyes. “I’ll meet you guys back at the rental later, depending on how many drinks I have, you know, don’t expect me back or anything soon, or—“ he doesn’t really end the sentence, more just backpedals away until he’s out of earshot, before turning and jogging down the road.

There’s nothing he would enjoy less than being stuck with Felix Millstone and a bunch of faux-rebellious Byzantium gold-bloods drunk off Spectrum vodka spritzers in a bar, but Max is half tempted to follow.

“C’mon,” As if he could feel Max wrestling with his thoughts, the Captain jerks his attention away, tilting his chin the opposite direction, towards their sublight-sanctioned rental. “We need to talk.”

The vicar sighs. “We do.”

He tries to make himself furious at Reginald Chaney for this, he really does. He’s been furious for fucking years. But he finds he doesn’t have any left in him, as if it drained out into the shallows of the riverbed.

Max had been ready to kill him, rend and tear. He had spent so much time imagining the ways he could inflict the kind of pain that could only pale to the feeling of holding that incomprehensible book in his hands. That’s what his mind kept going back to— the years wasted, the effort, the dogged study he went through, only for his last effort to be the punchline of some sniveling moron’s joke. And the Captain had held him back. Frankly, he hadn’t expected that; the man had a mean temper himself, quick to sour when pushed, turning to intimidation when needed. He would have figured the Captain would have encouraged him to rend that sorry excuse of a man in two.

Instead, he had grabbed Max’s shoulder, said in a low tone that Reggie wasn’t worth it, even as he glowered at the quivering man before them. He didn’t need the Captain’s presence to intimidate; he found himself quite confident in those matters alone. It didn’t hurt, however, to have the two of them doing so. (And Felix in the wings, puffing his chest and throwing out a “yeah, what, how about that” didn’t exactly help, but it at least did keep him occupied.) He’s seen the Captain crush marauder helmets like overripe nanners with a single swing. He was handsome when he smiled; but still in his wilds armor, over six foot with a buzz cut and the facial burn scars from a hibernation pod landing gone wrong— well. He didn’t blame Chaney.

His Captain closes the door of their rental behind them. The click of the lock sounds louder than normal.

It’s Max who breaks the silence. It’s easier that way to take control, speaking in a low and even tone, as if to a wounded animal. The Captain is certainly pacing around the small room like one. “I want to thank you for talking some sense into me back there with Chaney. It has been a long time since I’ve given into my... violent enthusiasm.”

“Cut the bullshit, Max. You lied to me?”

Max bites his tongue. “Not a lie, per se— well—“

“You think I’m a joke, ain’t you?” Captain growls.

“Listen—” Max holds out placating hands, “You’re right. I apologize. I’ve been so focused on this, so focused on finding all of the answers—“ Stomach sinking, Max sighs. Even now, the raw anger hasn’t faded from the Captain’s face. The hurt. Now that he’s come clean, he does feel some guilt for his actions. They had been justified, of course, but he hadn’t meant to truly hurt anyone in the process, save Reginald himself. “I understand if you want me to leave. You accepted me into your crew, the friendship you gave me... but I hadn’t meant to betray your trust in a way.”

“Funny,” The Captain spits, “Didn’t mean to betray my trust by lyin’?”

“I’m sorry.” Max insists, “Captain—”

“I thought as a preacher man—“

“Vicar.” Max corrects.

“Vic-ur—“ The Captain snaps back, mockingly, “Whatever,” he whirls on his heel, “I thought you types weren’t supposed to lie, and all that.”

“We try not to.”

“Try?” He scoffs, “And you did it— you did it so smooth-like, like you were telling the truth. Weren’t sweating none. What else can you lie about?” His frustration is bleeding out, “What else— like, are you even a vicar?”

Max sighs. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

“And your name?”

His patience is growing thin. “I haven’t lied half as much as you think.”

“So that’s—!” He throws up his hands. “Fuckin’ half, then, Max, ‘cause I think you’re just a liar all around, one-hundred percent, so you lie about half of everything?”

“No, just this. And Captain, you must believe me, I regret it— I didn’t know you, and the rest of the crew, when I boarded your vessel like I do now.” It feels like pulling teeth, but it needs to be said. He’s not a sentimental man.

“That ain’t a good reason.” The Captain falters, “Good people don’t lie just ‘cause they don’t know someone.”

“I know. I’m not a good person.”

“Well, neither am I.” He stalks forward, “And if your laws are all about the strong surviving and the weak perishin’, and all,” the Captain leans in. They’re near the same height— which is to say, taller than most— but the Captain was broader in the shoulders and chest, and when he squared them—

It wasn’t fear. Though he would be lying if he said he wasn’t just a shade intimidated at the low timbre of his Captain’s voice, hushed and bearing the promise of violence as their noses just brushed: “Then it’d be downright holy to kick your law-forsaken ass.”

“Is that what you want to do?” Max holds his ground, feels his voice grow rough, the unspent adrenaline from earlier thumping behind the backs of his eyes, “Would that make you feel better, Park? ‘Kicking my ass’?”

He holds his stare. But then his Captain softens, flinches (at his name? Max can’t tell,) looking towards the ground. He takes a hesitant half-step back. “Naw,” his voice is soft, “That’d be real lowdown of me, real hypocritical. Especially after I just stopped you from doing it back there.”

He sags where he stands. Max feels a twinge of regret. His Captain is not a bad man, not at all. Quick to anger, but so was he. Captain Park was a hard, earnest worker. He practically trips over himself to help any person who crosses their path, even if he doesn’t always understand the implications of doing so. “Captain...” He grows quiet, “You owe me nothing. I know. I know this. I’m begging you for forgiveness.”

His Captain says nothing, just stares at the floor, and paces. Max shakes his head. “I promise you, from the bottom of my heart— as much as you and the rest of this crew are convinced I do not have one— I am sorry.”

The Captain is silent, for a moment. He stills. His dark eyes dart down, then back up. “Prove it.”

“Excuse me?”

His lips. The Captain’s looking at his lips. Self-consciously, Max feels himself wetting them with his tongue. A nervous habit he’s always tried to rid himself of. “I can’t trust nothing that comes out of that mouth of yours.” The Captain jerks his chin up defiantly at him. “How am I supposed to know you won’t do nothing like this again?”

It would be easy to excuse his Captain’s wandering eye as simply that, a casual glance. The Vicar crosses the space between them.

He almost looks shocked when Max lays his hand against his chest, unfurling his crossed arms, almost as if to push the vicar off. Max doesn’t give him time to react past that; he leans in, presses his lips to the Captain’s. It’s chaster than he means, closed eyes and closed lips. The Captain’s are chapped, but warm, and entirely unmoving.

Embarrassment starts to curl low in his belly. He pulls back, “I apologize, Captain, I thought—“

His curt defense is silenced as his Captain leans back in, kissing him with voracious, dizzying force. He can feel their stubble catch, scratching with each movement; he hasn’t kissed another man in years, since seminary, and he feels alight from the friction.

“Oh,” The Captain pulls back, and gives him such a dopey stare it makes his chest unexpectedly clench, “Vicar— I, uh—“

“Shh,” He’s quick to shush him, verbally and with another kiss. As inspiring as his Captain’s honesty is, he can’t quite take it now, not with his blood pumping in his ears the way it does when he’s swinging a tossball stick at a marauder.

His Captain’s face shifts; understanding, accepting. Max kisses him again, soft and slow this time, the quiet, wet sound of their lips. His palms feel sweaty when he settles them against the Captain’s hips. He needs this, too, and he knows if he thinks too hard on it, like most things, he will talk himself in circles around it.

The Captain drags him back into the kiss, settles his big hands around his waist. His hands guide him away from the door, towards the bed. When his ankles hit the edge of the bed, he ducks down but not enough, swearing against the vicar’s lips as the back of his skull connects with a crack with the overhang. Max can’t help it: he laughs into his mouth, even as his Captain pulls him down.

“Fuckin’ smarts,” he mumbles against his lips.

The vicar settles nicely into his lap, legs straddling his waist. “You want me to kiss it better?”

“Does that count as a— what d’ya call it—“ The Captain punctuates his pause with a roll of the hips. The swell of his cock is unmistakable against his ass. “A benediction?”

Max smirks. He can’t find himself annoyed by his Captain’s ignorance when he’s grinding against him like this. He’s ruching his vestments up with both hands, tugging at the worn dress shirt he wears underneath. “Something like that.”

“Let’s get this off.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice. Max has no qualms about the human form; if anything, he considers himself a fine example of being made in the Grand Architect’s image at his age. His Captain’s heavy lidded gaze rakes up his torso, followed by his hands.

“What do you like?”

Max hums, arches his back. “I’m adaptable.”

“What the— adaptable?” The Captain clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth, befuddled annoyance written clear across his face, “I’m just askin’ a simple question— fuck, Vicar, what the fuck does that even mean—“

“You tell me, Captain.” The vicar interrupts, “Do you want to fuck me?”

His Captain groans low in his throat; his hands almost instantly become clumsier, pawing helplessly at the band of Max’s pants, his fingers slipping under to touch the band of his underclothes. “Yes.”

He rolls his Captain over; it’s a tangle of limbs getting each other undressed in the single-sized bunk. Max nearly protests of his vestments hitting the floor in a wrinkled heap, but his attention is quite literally turned with his Captain’s hand squeezing the back of his neck, dragging him back into a kiss. It’s a kind of hard manhandling that makes his eyes slip closed. His Captain tastes like purple berry crunch and the dregs of adreno use still hanging in the back of his throat.

Captain pulls back, squeezes the back of his neck, trails his fingers around against Max’s collar bone.

His hammer-calloused fingers are in his face. The Vicar sucks in a breath as his Captain traces his cupid’s bow.

“Suck.”

“That’s— undignified.” Max groans, unconvincing even to his own ears. His Captain smirks below him, a rare victory, running his thumb down from his lips to the cleft of his chin where the faintest stubble has grown in the days they’ve been traveling across Monarch.

“Sure is,” he tilts the vicar’s chin down. Max’s lips part. He swipes his thumb up, and the tip of Max’s tongue darts out— barely a touch, but by the way his eyes slit, he knows his Captain felt it. “Thought you were gonna be a team member now? An honest part of the Unreliable crew?”

When he presses that thumb to his lips again, Max takes it into his mouth. Warningly, he scrapes his teeth against the pad, and his Captain’s eyes flash dark. But it’s a warning, not a true threat, nothing he wants to act on— Max sucks, swirls his tongue around the pad of his finger. It’s salty and not altogether pleasant. His Captain has thick, thick fingers.

(Something he has never noticed, of course not, never has the good Vicar even once fantasized about those fingers and how surprisingly deft they were at lock picking, the thickness of his knuckles—)

He pulls his thumb from Max’s mouth with a soft pop. “Law.”

As much as Max would be willing to wet his Captain’s fingers until sopping, his Captain scrambles out of bed for something more substantial. He finds a tin of Spacer’s Choice lubrication in one of the drawers, forgotten from the last round of people to have moved through this space.

Max is waiting for him on the bed. Captain’s fingers probe searchingly; Max spreads his legs a little more, sucks in a breath as his Captain pulls him apart and rubs his thumb in maddening circles over his hole.

“I’ll go slow—“

“Don’t coddle me.” Max nearly snaps, arches back against his fingers. “I’m not some starry-eyed school-boy still in seminary. You aren’t my first.”

The Captain chuckles throatily, pushing the tip of his finger in; the burn of the intrusion is welcome, pleasure curling low in Max’s gut. He takes himself in hand, strokes down and makes a show of it as the Captain works his fingers into him.

“Y’know,” his Captain sounds hoarse, “Speaking of seminal-ary.” If he wasn’t being mercilessly fingered right now, his Captain curling and pushing and flexing, Max would have the voice to do more than groan, “Thought, uh. Thought men of the cloth were supposed to be chaste.”

“Not in scientism,” Max gasps, the point and counterpoint of his stroking hand and his Captain’s fingers reducing his ability to speak, “I feel like that’s obvious enough at this point, and I’d prefer not to explain myself when you’re knuckles deep in m— Grand Architect above—“

The Captain twists his fingers again, and Max groans, half-collapsing in on himself and on top of the Captain. “Fair ‘nough.”

He’s thorough, but quick; and Law, Max is thankful for that. He’s well-versed in his body now, at forty-two, and he knows what he can take, even if it’s been a while. And to be honest (which was the point of this excursion, wasn’t it,) he could be satisfied like this, stroking himself with the knuckles of his Captain’s hand bumping a steady tempo against him—

Against the back of Max’s thigh, his Captain has been grinding impatiently. He pushes himself up more onto his knees, and reluctantly the Captain’s fingers slide out of him. Blindly, he adjusts himself; he can feel the tip of his Captain’s cock bumping against his cheek, a wetness from his tip smearing across his skin.

With his other hand, the Captain lines his cock up, removes his fingers. Max looks over his shoulder, shivering as the Captain’s dick slides between his ass. His breath catches. “Don’t be a fucking tease.”

“No?” The hand on his ass slides back to the cleft, pressing his thumb against his hole, “‘cause you ain’t seen teasing, not yet. I could finger your ass all night, vicar, ‘specially one like this, could spend all the time in the world stretchin’ you out until you were begging—“

He’s rubbing in slow, teasing circles, a constant motion, and Max thinks he will be driven mad by it. “Captain,” he interrupts forcefully, “Fuck me, please, ” and then, impulsively, leaving his lips before they fully register in his brain, he gasps, “Forgive me.”

His Captain’s movements stutter. “Yeah?”

That hit a nerve. Max licks his lips, ventures again, “isn’t that what this is all about?” He rocks back, tries not to sound out when his Captain’s finger presses a little firmer against him. He’s aching now from the absence of anything in him. “Forgiving me for my transgressions?”

The Captain groans, clambers to line himself up. He slides into him nice and steady, a hand to his hip. Law above, he’s thick, and he feels him sink down root to tip, the heat of his hips flush against him. It has been— too long, embarrassingly long. Nobody in that muck stained town of Edgewater ever came close to interesting enough to be spared a second glance, though he thinks it laughable now that a sous-chef by trade and a Captain in stolen name only was the one to finally bring him to bed after such a dry spell.

“Good?”

“Move, damn you—“

And he does, he does, and Max groans and swears and collapses face down against the bed, spreads his knees akimbo as his Captain fucks into him.

Max takes his cock in hand, stroking himself in time with his Captain’s thrust. He adjusts, hunched over the vicar, pistoning into him; his hand slides from his waist to the base of his throat. The groan that escapes him is automatic; his cock pulses in his hand as the Captain’s fingers lightly, experimentally, squeeze.

“Yeah?”

Max groans his approval, throws his head back to bare the column of his neck even more. The Captain wraps his hand around him, a warm, calloused heat.

“Forgive me, Captain—“

His thumb digs into the hollow of his neck, presses down— the next breath Max sucks in is delightfully ragged, the pressure and pleasure of it zipping straight to his cock. “Louder.”

“Forgive me, Captain,” Max gasps, words stilted with each thrust, “Fuck, fuck, Law above, forgive me, forgive me—“

The hand around his throat tightens, presses in below his wildly bobbing adam’s apple. Each thrust punches the breath out of him, and each new intake is less than the last; he can feel his head swell, an intoxicating hum of static, his field of view narrowing and narrowing. He imagines if he dies like this, surely, that would have to be according to plan; nothing feels less right than being speared on his cock, gasping and scrabbling and begging for forgiveness, his ever-present thoughts clearing under the physical onslaught. All he can focus on is the Captain in him, the hand on his neck, ever-tightening, the searing pleasure—

He tries to breathe again, and this time, the hand tightens like a vice. He gasps noiseless, breathless. He is dying, he feels, or something so exquisitely close to it.

“C’mon, vicar,” The Captain’s drawl break through the heady buzz, hot against his ear, “come for me.”

When he does, he sees stars, planets and galaxies— and for a moment, his body gives in, slumping in the Captain’s arms, falling forward with the next thrust. It’s a momentary blackout, and he comes to with the Captain thrusting into him, the pace increasingly erratic. He mouths at the shell of his ear, groans long and low as his hips stutter.

Max groans, but no sound escapes him, throat raw. It doesn’t help that the Captain has collapsed on top with his entire weight pressed into his ribs.

“Park,” he finally rasps. His voice is hoarse and foreign in his own ears. He feels weak as a newborn fuzzy cow, his arms trembling too much to even provide the strength to push himself up. “Captain.”

“M’sorry,” the man mumbles, muffled against Max’s neck. He kisses it once— a decidedly tender motion against what assuredly will be very violent looking markings the vicar will have to turn up his collar as high as possible to hide. “Y’okay?”

“Yes, yes.” He clears his throat, but it does nothing for his tone. He braces himself on his forearms. The Captain fixes him with a balefully apologetic look. “I’m fine, thank you. No need to get soppy, now.”

“M’not.” His Captain protests, grinning dopily.

Max rolls his eyes and snorts. “Alright, then. Well.” He nearly smoothes a hand down the front of his vestments, except he’s obviously not wearing them— it’s admittedly strange, to be completely nude (And completely fucked through) with no crutches to lean on in front of the other. “I assume now all is forgiven?”

The most annoying thing about the crew of the Unreliable has been their predisposition to see right through him. The Captain, slowly dragging Max back on top of him with a shit-eating grin, is certainly no exception. “Hm, maybe. But I wouldn’t be opposed to hand out a little more forgiveness, if you’d accept it ‘n all.”

Max shivers as his Captain runs blunt nails down his back, gazing hopefully up at him. Law above and below. “I think,” He tries to sound dignified as his Captain’s hands creep lower, “We may be able to manage one more one-on-one counseling session.”

—-

In the next room over, with his pants shoved down around his thighs, Felix Millstone stares exhaustedly at the ceiling of his bed’s nook.

“Holy fuck,” he mutters, pun neither realized nor intended.

—

also hi if you’ve read this far— do you hate ‘the captain/his captain’? I can’t decide if it feels too aggressively fanfiction-y if that makes sense. generally in fics w a create your own character i prefer the ‘default’ name but I hesitate to call him Hawthorne. might just go full hog and use Park’s name but. please feel free to crit that (and any other obviously) but would appreciate especially comments on that before i post the polished version on ao3

#the outer worlds #vicar max #maximillian desoto #felix millstone #nsft #the outer worlds spoilers #p mild though all things considered spoilerwise

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holy-kingdom-of-faerghus · 5 years

Text

Tales of the Brazen Sword

Prompt: Classic mode, Blue Lion route where Felix died during the war, and Dimitri raises his children on stories of Felix’s conquests before admitting that he knew him first hand.

Note: Somewhat angst… but with a surprising and happy ending

Ever since Lambert was young, he had heard stories of Felix: The Brazen Sword. Felix was, as his father claimed, a brilliant swordsman with brash tendencies who preferred action over “idle chatter.” In fact, he was the man that Lambert’s middle namesake had been taken from.The man was swift on the battlefield and could cut down dozens of enemy troops within mere minutes-- something he knew not many men could do. He was, as the King described him, a flurry of different shades of blue and glinting silver, when in combat. His single goal in life was to defeat any foe who dared to stand before him and to be the best swordsman in all of Fodlan.

But, despite his obvious skill in battle and his stoic nature, Felix was also a loyal friend. Despite all the trouble his prince had caused him, Felix had remained loyal to the royal’s cause-- never straying from the path that his highness had paved. He wore a mask of cold indifference and insisted on doing nothing but honing his skills with the blade-- Dimitri swore. Though, the naive prince would later find out that the hardened swordsman only did so in an effort to protect his people and his highness from any harm. And that the prince would soon come to realize his reasonings when it was far too late-- for it was these reasons that caused the vigilant swordsman’s fall.

One night, after a long and taxing day, Dimitri coaxed his thirteen year old son to bed with promises of a bedtime story.

“Tonight Lambert, I will tell you of Felix’s final conquest. In fact I think you are quite familiar with the tale- however, I have never told you my account of it.” The king told his son softly, a fond smile on his face as he stroked the childs blonde hair. “It was a hectic afternoon, the sun was beating down among the troops and everyone was tired from storming the streets of Enbarr.” Lambert gasped-- he did indeed recognize the tale. “We could taste victory on the tip of our tongue-- morale was high and we realized the long and bloody war was coming to a close,” he licked his chapped lips before continuing. “I hadn’t lost anyone incredibly dear to me-- not since the former Lord Fraldarius’s death; so I was confident that we would all make it through.” The man laughed bitterly, tears welling up within his sole eye, he gripped Lambert’s hand tightly. “How foolish I was.” Forgetting his status, the young prince ripped off his covers and clambered onto his father’s lap, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“It’s alright father, you needn’t tell me this story-- I do not wish to see you cry.” Lambert consoled.

“No, no; I will tell you this tale son, you deserve to hear it.” Dimitri took in a deep, rattling breath. “As I was saying, Byleth-- that is the Archbishop-- had ordered Felix and I, (Lambert gasped at the revelation), to lead the charge.” Dimitri took a moment to blink away his tears. “It was absolute chaos, your Uncle Sylvain and Uncle Ashe were supposed to be watching our backs. But we had underestimated the number of reinforcements the Emperor had waiting. The plan had failed-- it became a free for all. Felix… oh Felix.”

“Father… it’s alright, I think Mr. Felix would be glad to hear you speaking of him in such a way.” This statement did nothing to console the grieving king, instead it made him weep more.

“If it had gone as planned… you would be addressing Felix as ‘Uncle’ not Mr.” he confessed, “but it all went awry.” After a few more moments of sniffled filled silence, the story continued.

“I’ve always been particularly vulnerable to mages-- barely fast enough to dodge their most basic spells, let alone their more advanced ones. But Felix had a much leaner figure than me and thus had an easier time avoiding them.” Dimitri explained, once again taking in a slow, shuddering breath.

“We were both doing so well, most of the mages had been defeated, though it proved to be incredibly taxing on our bodies. Our foes were incredibly quick on their feet-- practically dodging our every swing, we had to work thrice as hard as usual to just defeat one of them.” His father gulped as he prepared to retell his childhood friends death. “Even… even Felix, who worked five times as hard as anyone in the army- even harder than me, had been exhausted. And he could tell I was too. So… so when the third wave of reinforcements came he… he told me to jump on Ashe’s wyvern. He told me to end the terrible, pointless war. He said that he could handle the next wave of soldiers-- that Sylvain would come to aid him if he needed it.”

A river of tears spilled from his father’s eye and Lambert couldn’t do anything but watch and offer his silent comfort.

“I could see it all from the wyvern’s back. Felix fighting tiredly, desperately; pouring his heart and soul into each skillful swing, the blade a silver blur as he slashed furiously. His pale skin was flushed red and he was stained with blood-- from both himself and from the Imperial soldiers. And I- I watched as this warlock-- I can remember her expression vividly, she had this insane, blood thirsty look in her eye as she cast her darkest spell. She summoned hundreds of large, violet spikes, ones that I’ve only ever seen dark mages use, and in an instant she had impaled Felix with them. Oh Seiros-- I can still hear his screams.”

Lambert was horrified at his father’s gruesome description of Felix’s death-- though he could not deny his absurd fascination at the topic.

“I-I jumped from the wyverns back and rushed to him-- it must have taken half a minute or so, but he was still alive. I slaughtered the bitch-- ahem, pardon me-- the witch who had dared harm him and knelt beside him. He had so many puncture wounds-- even Mercedes would not have been able to heal him. I could do nothing but beg him for forgiveness-- for not mending our relationship when I had the chance… do you know what he told me?”

The thirteen year old heir lifted his head, silently inquiring what it was that Felix had said.

“It’s pathetic really,” he had said, “that only now you apologize for all your wrongdoings.” Brushing a tear from his eye, Dimitri continued with his recount. “But… I forgave you a long time ago so it’s pointless really. Since I won’t get the chance to say it again… I’m sorry Dimitri. It’s a shame that my old man had to die, that the Fraldarius line can’t protect the royal family anymore. So take our relic… so at least… even after death we can serve you.”

“What! He gave you House Fraldarius’s hero’s relic?” The king chuckled and nodded. “Wait… so what is their relic anyway? Oh, is it his blade? Or another lance like yours?”

“No, it’s not a weapon like the other lines, in fact… it’s a shield, the Aegis Shield.” Dimitri discarded his regal cape and revealed a shining golden shield from beneath it. “In the distant past, the Fraldarius and Blaiddyd line were connected through marriage… from that union a royal child was born, so we carry the Fraldarius crest within our bloodline.” He gently set the shield onto the bedding, encouraging his son to inspect it closely. “Now Lambert… when you were born we had you checked for a crest-- as is royal protocol. Surely you can imagine our surprise when you ended up with the major Fraldarius crest over the minor Blaiddyd one-- especially after we had added Felix’s name to your own.”

Lambert let out an audible ‘huh’ at his father’s words before narrowing his eyes in concentration.

“Is- is that why I’m not heir to the throne?” He questioned, a calculating shine overtaking his warm brown eyes. His father nodded, averting his gaze as if he was ashamed.

“I know you must be upset--” Dimitri began before he was abruptly interrupted.

“Upset?” Lambert declared incredulously, “why would I be upset? This explains so much! That’s why all my tutors teach minor politics and the inner workings of territory government! Why, I have such frequent field assignments to Fraldarius territory… Heck, it even explains why I’ve had to meet with the heirs of House’s Galatea and Gautier so often… But what does that mean for House Blaiddyd? What of the Kingdom?”

King Dimitri cracked a smile, seemingly relieved that his son was taking the news so easily.

“Well, your brother, Rodren, will be taking the throne; yes, he has a Crest of Blaiddyd, so you needn’t trouble yourself with worry.” His words struck a chord within his son, who blinked his bleary eyes and scooted off his father’s lap. “Ah, have you grown bored of our conversation already?” The newly realized Fraldarius heir nodded and smiled tiredly.

“Thank you for telling me father…”

“Of course it was your right to know as Fraldarius heir.”

“No, I meant, thank you for telling me Uncle Felix’s story… and for the shield. I hope I can live up to his legacy…” With those last words exchanged, Lambert fell into a deep slumber, leaving Dimitri to stare at his son in awe. He brushed the blondes hair back and pressed a kiss to his forehead, picking up the Aegis Shield and placing it on a nearby chair. He stood up and made to leave the room before freezing in the arched doorway and looked back towards his son.

“I’m sure you will, Lambert, I’m sure you will.” And for a mere moment, Dimitri could have sworn he had heard Felix’s voice say “he already has.”

#fire emblem felix #fire emblem dimitri #fe dimitri #fe felix #fire emblem #Fire Emblem Three Houses #fire emblem blue lions #blue lion house #Blue Lions #felix x dimitri #(platonic)

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javocjovian · 6 years

Text

Ride ‘Em Cowboy, SPN Bingo

Title: Ride ‘Em Cowboy Link: Square Filled: Sexuality Crisis Ship: Destiel Rating: E Warnings: Homophobic Upbringing/ Repression Problems Tags: Repressed Sexuality, Sex Problems, Healing Sex, Grace Sex, Sam the extremely reluctant relationship counselor, Clothing Kink, Dean has a Cowboy Fetish, Roleplay, Love n Fluff, Humor, First Time Confessions, no seriously there’s Cowboy Cas, Dean’s still a power bottom Summary: Dean has never come when Castiel tops him. Castiel is determined to get to the bottom of it :) with Sam’s totally enthusiastic help, of course. Word Count: 2802

Created for @spnkinkbingo Beta-ed by @felix-the-white-wolf

Quote:

Castiel almost smiled. He had never seen Dean’s eyes so wide. He was utterly dumbfounded. When it became apparent that Dean was too tongue-tied to speak, Castiel spared him and pulled him into a smooth kiss. Castiel had taken a shot of whiskey (or six) for his nerves, and the flavor made Dean swoon. Castiel got a rush of confidence and opened the kiss. Then in his deepest, darkest voice, he rumbled against Dean’s lips, “What do you say we break in the this motel room?”

Ride ‘Em Cowboy

Sam was enjoying a quiet morning alone in the Men of Letters’ library. He had a book open at the table and was sipping a fresh cup of coffee when he heard the familiar whoosh of air that signaled Castiel.

“Morning, Cas.”

“Good morning, Sam.” Castiel came in and looked around, “Where is Dean?”

Sam shrugged, “No clue. Probably out getting breakfast burgers.”

Castiel deflated on the spot.

Sam had noticed Castiel acting weird lately. He suspected something was going on between him and Dean, besides all the sex. They’d been not so subtly hooking up for a while, so much so that Sam had become very good at going temporarily blind and deaf. He was so good, in fact, that it took him a few minutes to realize Castiel was still standing there, watching Sam work. Staring at him.

Sam cleared his throat, “You know you’re still here, right?”

His voice made Castiel jump. He glanced around, then slid into a chair and sighed hopelessly.“Sam. Can I ask you a question?”

“You just– yes,” Sam sighed, closing his book, “As long as it’s not about Dean.”

Castiel nodded solemnly, “It’s about Dean.”

Sam made a small noise in the back of his throat, “I, uh... I’m not sure I’m the best person to help you with that. I mean, I am his brother.” He gave him an apologetic smile.

“Exactly. You know him better than anyone,” Castiel pleaded. He had this look on his face that made Sam shift awkwardly in his seat. He was like a heartbroken puppy.

Finally Sam relented. “Alright... What’s up?”

“Thank you, Sam.” Castiel sighed in relief.

“Sure. Just don’t ask me about sex, okay?”

“Okay,” Castiel agreed, then he took a deep breath. “When Dean I have intercourse...”

Sam rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Sometimes I can’t… I mean, it can be difficult...” He made some strange hand gestures then said, “...sometimes I can’t bring Dean to climax.”

“Uh! Yeah, okay. No.” Sam rose a hand, but Castiel carried on innocently.

“Usually Dean is the one penetrating, but recently I expressed interest in penetrating him.”

“Oh my god–”

“It’s just… Dean is so, so good at intercourse...”

“Cas!”

“...yes?”

Sam had turned a spectacular shade of pink, “Just…” he took a steadying breath, “it’s called sex, okay? And...”

“Right. Dean is very good at sex,” Castiel clarified, “I just wanted to make sure I was satisfying him in every way possible. But whenever I try having sex with him, I just can’t make him orgasm.”

Sam was stony faced.

“I don’t know what to do. I’m not as experienced as he is and I… I’m afraid I’m doing something wrong. You’re his brother – do you know if there’s any way I can...” he started making that hand gesture again and Sam cut him off abruptly.

“Ah! Ha...No. Sorry, Cas, but I just...” Sam was struggling to find the words. He cleared his throat twice then said, “I try to stay out of my brother’s love life, so I really don’t know what to tell you.”

Castiel finally stopped talking. He sunk into the chair and stared at his fingers in defeat.

Sam sighed. He felt like he’d just had his brain washed with bleach, but a part of him really wanted to help Cas, and by extension Dean. He took a calculating breath and tried to think of a solution that didn’t involve visualizing his brother with an angel dick up his… no. Just no.

“You know...” Sam sighed, “maybe...”

Castiel looked up hopefully.

“It might not be your fault, Cas.”

Castiel looked at him curiously. Sam knew there was no turning back now.

“Okay, look.” He shifted to face him, “When we were growing up, our dad was kind of… weird… about dating. We were hunters, you know? It wasn’t good to get attached. But still...” Sam realized he was approaching a subject Dean probably wouldn’t want him discussing with anyone, but the more he thought about it the more relevant it seemed, “Don’t tell Dean I told you about this.” He warned. When Castiel nodded, he continued, “When we were kids Dean was always hitting on everybody. Girls and boys. Well, one day I bought a friend over. I think I was nine. He was just a friend, but dad got suspicious of us and...”

Castiel was listening raptly. He thought he sensed discomfort in Sam, so he waited it out with him. Sam continued quickly enough.

“Well, let’s just say John’s generation wasn’t so keen on guys dating guys.”

“You mean, homosexuality? Yes, I’ve read about that.”

“Yeah.” Sam cleared his throat. He smiled a little at the thought of Castiel researching Dean like a case, “Anyway. Dad told me off in front of Dean. He obviously didn’t know Dean had been into guys since I could walk. I think he said something like, ‘I have enough to worry about with you boys being hunters. I don’t need you becoming fags’.” Sam sighed, “And that was that. I never brought home guys, and Dean… well, I never saw Dean with a guy again. Until you, of course.”

Castiel was silent. He considered this deeply, “Are you saying Dean is… repressed?”

Sam shrugged, “Yeah, maybe. I mean, it makes sense.”

Castiel frowned.

“Look, just make Dean feel safe and I’m sure he’ll come around.”

“I always carry protection.” Castiel gestured to the angel blade in his coat.

“No,” Sam bit back a smile, “I mean, safe in your relationship. Tell him how much you care about him, and then… well...” Sam looked awkward again, “you know.”

“Then I penetrate him.”

Sam sighed into his palm.

“Sorry. Have sex with him.”

Sam closed his eyes and mustered a rigid, “Yeah. Now can we please talk about something else?”

Castiel smiled in relief, “Yes. Of course. Thank you, Sam.” he looked around for something else to discuss while Sam reopened his book. He noticed the cover said “Occult Lore”, so Castiel said, “Is Dean into roleplay?”

Sam stared at him.

Despite their conversation, nothing seemed to have changed between Dean and Castiel. In an effort not to repeat their conversation ever again, Sam decided to give Castiel a little more direct help.

After a successful vengeful spirit hunt in Northern Texas, Sam suggested they stay an extra night to enjoy the Wild West town. Dean was surprised, but agreed instantly. It had been a while since the three of them had some fun away from the bunker. Plus, Dean would never turn down eating steak under a buffalo head.

Except, Sam then announced he was going to a bar. Alone. Dean eyed him suspiciously. He was used to Sam giving him and Castiel a wide berth, but he didn’t see any reason for it at the moment. Dean hadn’t gotten any action in days. But Dean let him go anyway. A few seconds later he was pounding on the bathroom door.

“C’mon Cas, let’s get dinner. I’m starving. Sam’s out playing with dice or whatever nerds do instead of getting laid...” The door opened and Dean’s voice faltered.

Castiel walked out dressed head to toe in leather and denim. He had an open leather vest exposing his broad chest and a loose Kentucky bowtie dangling off his collarbone. The bulge in his form fitting jeans was framed sinfully by leather chaps. His look was completed by tall leather boots, a large belt, and a cowboy hat shadowing his face. He had on a look that could only be described as Kilmer-esq.

“Howdy, pardner.”

Dean’s mouth went dry. It felt like his center of mass had shifted to his crotch, causing him to sway a little, “H...howdy.”

Dean gaped at him, then finally mustered three words: “Oh… hell yeah.” He grabbed Castiel and kissed him eagerly.

Castiel was elated. He helped Dean strip all the way to the bed, practically hearing a Spanish guitar and whip cracking in his head. Then Castiel pushed him buck-naked onto the mattress. Dean grinned. Castiel threw his hat on Dean’s chest and Dean put it on cheekily while he watched him get out of his jeans. He used a bit of grace and managed to keep the chaps still on, shamelessly showing off the slope of his hips and his fully erect cock.

Dean’s breath left him at once, “...fuck.”

Castiel smiled slight and kneeled on the bed. Dean had never been so turned on. Castiel was dressed only his vest, tie, and chaps as he slid over Dean. Despite his enthusiastic consent, he was shaking a little. Castiel kissed him soothingly, mutterings words of encouragement in his false accent. Dean had only ever ridden him before, so Castiel was surprised when Dean lay back and let him between his legs.

While they made out on the bed, Castiel used a little grace to lube and stretch Dean. He could tell by how handsy Dean was getting that he was more than okay with it. Finally, Castiel broke away from the kiss to line himself up. Once he was pressed against Dean’s wet entrance, he swatted Dean’s hand away from his own erection, earning a cocky little smirk from Dean, and held him like a saddle horn as he slowly pressed in.

Dean was used to this part, but it was still jarring. Castiel’s thick cock parted him with ease, although it still felt tight. Castiel groaned and Dean grunted, arching up for him to find the right angle. It felt good, but Dean couldn’t help but tense. Castiel fondled Dean’s cock to make him relax, allowing him to slide in the rest of the way.

Dean looked winded, so Castiel gave him a moment. He knew Dean didn’t like being coddled though, so it didn’t last long. Castiel began moving his hips and Dean groaned in approval.

Castiel ravaged him into the mattress, while Dean panted in pleasure. His hands were balled up in the headboard and his hat had fallen behind his head. It’s strings bounced on Dean’s glistening chest with every thrust.

Things were going better than usual. Dean was loose and groaning freely. Castiel would say things like “Giddyup, cowboy”, making Dean smirk and fuck back. His expression screwed up whenever Castiel found his sweet spot. Castiel could tell Dean felt good, but it wasn’t enough. Something was still off. Dean’s lips were parted and his head was tipped back like he was concentrating hard. Much too hard.

Castiel slowed down a little, making Dean look up. His green eyes were hazy with lust.

“Dean...” Castiel mumbled between thrusts, “You know I care about you, right?”

It took a few seconds for the words to navigate Dean’s pleasure-soaked brain. “Yeah, Cas.” he nodded distantly. He looked like he just wanted Castiel to keep going, but Castiel didn’t relent.

He let go of Dean’s cock and smoothed his hands up Dean’s body, nestling under his jaw and ears. Dean’s eyes fluttered closed in surprise. Castiel was amazed such a gentle touch could affect him so strongly.

“Dean, I want you to feel good.”

Dean half laughed, “I figured that out already.” He shifted his hips a little.

“No...” Castiel leaned down and kissed him gently. He was nearly laying on him, their bodies rolling together with each thrust. Dean trembled. “I mean, you should know that I truly, deeply, care about you. More than anyone.”

Dean stared up at him, winded, “That’s called love, Cas.”

Castiel nodded in understanding, “Then I love you.”

Dean stopped moving and just stared at him. A small smile parted his lips, “Rookie move, Cas. Saying I love you during sex,” he joked. But when Castiel’s expression didn’t change, Dean’s did. “You don’t mean that...”

“I do.” Castiel assured him. For a moment he feared he’d said something wrong. But then Dean’s expression softened.

“I love you, too,” he breathed.

Castiel smiled in relief, then took him into another kiss. Dean was still for a moment, but then he folded his arms around Castiel and kissed him back. Castiel resumed fucking him at once.

This time, Dean melted. He gasped out of the kiss and moaned as Castiel rocked his body so perfectly. Castiel had never heard anything so beautiful. He held him close, nearly brushing their noses together, just listening to Dean’s voice as he panted out his pleasure. When Dean started cursing, he knew he’d gotten the angle right. Within seconds, Dean was completely unraveled, taking everything Castiel had and wanting more. He was moaning out encouragements and undulating against the mattress.

“Dean… oh, Dean,” Castiel panted, “that’s it.” Dean had once told him he liked the sound of his voice, so Castiel tried something new, “Dean… I love you so much.”

Dean moaned, so Castiel kept talking to him. He whispered sweet nothings into his ear and made love to him, and Dean began to tense up in to time.

“Cas…!”

Castiel knew he was about to come, but in the next second, Dean was moving. For a wild moment Castiel thought he had changed his mind and was getting up, but instead he pushed Castiel onto his back and threw a leg over his leather chaps. Breathless with arousal, Castiel watched as Dean sank onto his cock and rode him like a bull.

They were both groaning in seconds. Dean looked like a god rolling his hips on Castiel. Inspired, Castiel fumbled for the hat and put it on Dean with a small smile. Dean returned the smile with his eyes then tossed his head back in absolute pleasure.

Castiel’s hands swept up Dean’s body, feeling his muscles shivering with pleasure, “Yeah, Dean. Yeah...”

Dean’s thighs were burning, but it just made his ecstasy spin faster. He was sweating and swallowing air, while Castiel told him he loved him over and over again. With a sudden jolt, Dean’s body seized up and he came on Castiel’s chest and neck with a soundless groan. His mouth flew open and his eyes slammed shut. Castiel could see the shock waves ripple through him like waves in a pond. He watched, dumbfounded, as Dean’s orgasm wrecked his body. Dean’s pace had changed. He rode Castiel nice and slow, working him like a stud, and Castiel grabbed his hips and came instantly, groaning in ecstasy.

Dean either didn’t care, or enjoyed being filled with Castiel’s angelic seed. He didn’t say a word until he collapsed on Castiel, their bodies completely spent and ringing with bliss.

“Oh my god...” Dean breathed. He’d never had an orgasm like it. He didn’t even think Castiel had touched his cock.

Castiel pulled him close, panting softly in his ear, “Call me Cas.” he put the accent back on.

Dean grinned.

Dean wasn’t always in the mood to cuddle, but that night there wasn’t an inch of space between the two of them. They lay together in the sweat and mess of their bliss, exhausted and carefree. Eventually Castiel cleaned them up with grace and rolled over to lay on Dean.

“How was that?” he asked.

Dean covered his eyes with his arm, but he couldn’t hide his grin, “Awesome, Cas. That was… awesome.”

Castiel beamed with pride, “We can do that whenever you like.”

“You’ll keep the clothes?” Dean eyed him.

Castiel nodded, “You can keep the hat.”

Dean smirked and checked to see if it was still on, “Ride ‘em cowboy.”

Castiel chuckled.

The peaceful silence went on a little too long, until Dean finally asked, “So, you really meant all that, huh?”

Castiel got up on his elbows to look at Dean, “Are you asking if I said I love you just so you would let me p… have sex with you?”

Dean looked at him hesitantly. Castiel’s pale, blue eyes were piercing in the dim light, “Yeah. I am.”

Castiel sighed and began playing with Dean’s fingers, “No, I didn’t. I meant it.” He said simply, weaving their fingers together.

“Oh.”

“Did you mean it?”

Dean looked at him for a moment, “Yeah. I did.”

“Good.” Castiel leaned forward and kissed him gently.

Dean smiled and kissed him back.

“I love you, Dean.”

“I love you, too.”

Castiel needed to send Sam a gift basket. Dean just so happened to be thinking the same thing.

#spnkinkbingo #supernatural #Destiel #fanfiction #fanfic #My writing #archive of our own #sarasaurusrex #dean winchester #castiel #deanwinchester

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lpsrick237 · 7 years

Text

BULLET HOLES Parts 1 & 2

***Decided to repost this! Enjoy! LOTS OF MATURE CONTENT, VIEWERS DISCRETION IS ADVISED. Based on Pumped Up Kicks, ship being Pewdiecry. FELIX's POV I stared at the giant shrine in the middle of the empty school hallway, for this was a symbol of the most tragic event I have experienced. Then again I should have known this was a possibility. I was friends, actually dating, the student who shot all six of his main bullies, his dad, and himself. Took him around the whole semester to plan this out, he told me. I remember everything like it was yesterday. Although it was still recent, it wasn't yesterday. The conversations, the stories. The incident... It all started in the beginning of the year. -FLASHBACK- "Hey!" I exclaimed at a person standing near a high bridge. It was almost pouring rain and the kid was just standing there like it was summer. The teen around my age turned to look at me, but his face. It was covered with a white mask. The only facial feature you could see was his eyes. They looked like glass assuming there were tears. "What the fuck do you want?" He scoffed folding his arms in a somewhat douchebag like posture. "Why're you in the middle of the rain, on a bridge, at one am?" I ask calmly. Internally I was judging him, although probably not the best thing to do. "I," he stammered. After a bit of silence, the boy let out an exaggerated exhale while unfolding his arms. "I was about to end my life." What? I thought to myself. No WAY that's possible! "You can end your own life?" "Of course you can! Anyone can... kill." The masked person thought aloud. "I'm Felix." I smiled. "Ryan." -END OF FLASHBACK- From there we talked for hours, just in the park until we had to go to school. Turns out we both learned at our hell of a school. People would judge you all the time, beat the shit out of people who didn't try to fit in, and the teachers almost didn't give a shit. At least until now, when everyone is traumatized. I should have known by Ryan's words. His life stories. -FLASHBACK- "Felix, he keeps beating me and I have no other choice-!" "I can help you," I cried, interrupting my best friend. "Do not jump. I... I love you..." The boy flashed me a look, which could not be identified right away, but was soon revealed. Instead of jumping, he dropped the mask from the roof. As I saw his face I fell even harder. Ryan's jaw was slightly chiseled. He had slightly tanned skin with green eyes; his lips were thin and tinted more of a red. Not only did I see his face, but I saw what he hid. There were bruises, cuts, bags under his eyes, even a scar on his cheek. My crush ran up to me, pulling me into an embrace, and sobbed. All of his emotions finally busted from him. -END OF FLASHBACK- That was the day that, not only had I won over Ryan, but I figured out something about him. His last encounter with his dad was dangerous. That's why he had all the bruises, cuts, skins, and a limp when he walked. He cried after all of the emotional pain he's been through. All because of his sexuality. When we first started dating, he tried marijuana. He was high. I was so fucking scared, knowing it was his dad's and that it was illegal. "Fe, please try it." I recall him insisting. I told him no, but we made out a bit. It was worse than when I made out with a smoker, but I did it to humor him I guess. Another memory had taken a toll on me while I stood their thinking. Remembering. My boyfriend had told something to go away when nothing was there. He laughed maniacally when I would leave him be for a few minutes. Hell during a killing movie he looked dangerously interested in death. "Crazy" and "Cry" were his nicknames. The realization soon flooded over me; his father might've also abused him for his psychological behavior. A few seconds later and I had put the pieces together in his head. Ryan leaving his journal at my house, him having a full night with me to show how much he loved me. My boyfriend telling me that he found a gun in his dad's room. Ryan had killed his own father. Not only did he kill his abuser, but he decided the day after to kill his bullies. -FLASHBACK- I skimmed through the journal with wide eyes. Everything written was all Ryan, him confessing to killing his father after all of the psychological pain. The words written in blue ink, even him describing voices in his head. The voices told him to kill, to crave for revenge, and to run away with me. As I closed the worn down journal, the teacher looked at all of us with wide eyes and shouted, "Duck your heads and hide in the corner! Now!" I did as told along with the other students while the teacher looked out the window in the door. She wasn't thinking about anything too much. She watched very closely, while slowly turning off the lights. Soon she hid under her desk once hearing five gun shots. A loud smash opened the still unlocked door as a smooth voice, which turned out to be Ryan's asked, "Where's Sara?" Someone in the herd of students whimpered causing my crazed boyfriend to step closer. "Sara, get your ass out here or else you'll die slowly!" He yelled. Sara started crying while standing up. Her almond hair was in a bun, her make up was running, but she clearly tried to hide the mess. In a matter of seconds there was a loud gun shot in the room. I could hear the girl's body drop to the floor without another sound coming from anybody. Around a minute later, I feel a hand caressing my shoulder. "Baby," Ryan cooed at me. "I'm not gonna hurt you. Just please look at me." I couldn't help but take in a breath as I slowly turned my head. Ryan had a mask covering his face that said "CRY" on the forehead. Once I saw it he took it off revealing a small smile. "I'm sorry, baby," he sobbed stroking my cheek with his thumb. "I wanted revenge. Now that I have it, I don't need anymore from this world." "What about me?! I'm your boyfriend, aren't I?!" I whimpered out of pure terror. "That's right, Fe. I just... I don't want you to see me locked up... I made you a few journals and tapes... I'm sure people will give them to you." He explained pointing the gun to his head. "I love you. Don't. Do. This." I whispered slowly. He connected his soft lips with my slightly non-chapped ones for one last time. Before I saw it. His finger pulled the red trigger, causing my eyes to widen, and for my boyfriend to smile. -END OF FLASHBACK- "Felix!" Sean shook me until I turned my face towards his. Once he saw the tears running down my face, his jaw dropped and his expression soften. "S-Sean, I..." I sniffled with salty tears running down my cheeks. "Felix, is it Cry?" He asked with a pale hand reaching for my shoulder. "R-R-Ryan, he's." My green haired friend hugged me tightly as I spilt my emotions onto his shirt. I would never have my boyfriend again. To hold his small frame, to be there for when he cried, to heal his bruises. I now have to heal from the pain of losing someone I love. The worst part was, I'm the only one who truly understands what happened. PART TWO -FLASHBACK- Ryan moaned softly as I grazed my teeth along his slightly tanned flesh. "Where's a knife?" He gasped out. "Why?" I asked pulling away from my boyfriend, my expression changing. "I have somewhat of a knife play kink." He giggled with a shade of scarlet spreading across his cheeks. "Alright, not on me though." I warned the smaller male. He nodded as I stood up to grab Ryan's pocket knife. I looked through his left hoodie pocket. Found a pack of cigarettes. I checked his right hoodie pocket, which had the knife. As I looked at it I realized it had his dad's name engraved into the casing. I put the utensil in my back jean pocket before going back to my boyfriend. He was squirming slightly on the mattress and a bulge showed almost clearly through his jeans. I continued to straddle the thin male when he smiled up at me. His mask was off so I could kiss him. The two of us locked lips with a somewhat romantic hunger motivating us. His tongue swept my bottom lip asking for entrance. I allowed his tongue to slide into the mix hesitantly; meanwhile the boy was slightly grinding his heat into mine. Ryan moaned slightly as I started kissing his neck. I kept slightly grazing his favorite spot with my teeth causing the boy to whimper. I continued to smile as I continued doing what I was doing. Soon he was a whimpering and gasping mess as I continued. His hand gripped my hair leading me to continue. I peeled off Ryan's slightly tanned neck to remove the boy's shirt. As I did I ended up seeing red marks. My eyes went from clouded with lust to sadness as I saw the red lines. The lines, probably scars, dragged across his caramel colored flesh. They trailed from his lower shoulder to his wrist, yet he avoided the veins perfectly. He also made the lines really thin. "Hey, I said I had a thing for knife play." Ryan chuckled causing a smile to appear across my face. "Alright, just be careful." I warned lovingly. He just giggled before our lips locked again, our smiles still painted on our faces. He continued to grind against me as I held his surprisingly soft hands up to his head. I would grind back occasionally to get another wave of pleasure. We were both moaning messes when the kisses and grinding continued. "Please continue," Ryan moaned out as I nipped a hickey into his neck. "I'll be a good boy, just continue. Please!" I smiled on his now bruised skin as I grabbed the pocket knife. "Where?" I ask cautiously but with a smile still playing on my face. "Tease it around my stomach, try to make no marks." He gasped as I ground into him a little harder. I flipped open the blade of the weapon, placing the tang on his chest and slowly dragging the metal on his skin. It must've tickled or something since he was squirming around. I then placed the wedge of the blade on the boy's waist and slid the weapon across carefully. Ryan slightly moaned at the sting. -END OF FLASHBACK- I rose from my pillow with sweat glimmering on my body. I wanted to take of the boner the flashback gave me, but it reminded me of him. My boyfriend, Ryan. He had killed himself around four months ago, along with six others. They had either bullied him or pissed him off to the point of suicide. I started sobbing quietly with my hands over my eyes to catch the tears. I've loved that boy since the first day we started dating, and he was my first time. The worst part was that I couldn't save him. As if I was a fire alarm, someone flicked on the bedroom light and saw my break down. "Fe?" My mom called out. I silenced my crying for a moment although tears were still trickling down my face. "Hey, mom," I exhaled deeply. "How was work?" "Sweetheart, are you still missing Ryan?" She frowned. My erection was almost completely gone by now and the tears continued to slip from my eyes, just a little slower than before. "Honey, why did you love him so much?" She asked me, sitting on the somewhat made bedsheets. Once she said the question, my heart just told me to spill. "I saw him trying to commit suicide, and I helped him off a bridge. I was there when he was getting over the girl who broke his heart. Hell, I lost my virginity alongside that beautiful boy," I explained rapidly. "Three months ago would've been two years since we met. I... although that boy was somewhat crazy, I loved every piece of him. And I just, can't, stand the world without him." My mother had a small, sympathetic smile that ever so slightly hung from her lips. "You two were, dare I say perfect sounding?" She giggled. "I tried to work around the bad, and now I have a broken heart." I sighed. "Hey," the tired woman responded. "I can't promise anything, but I can try to make you feel a little better. After all no one likes a sad Felix." A smile soon grew on my tear stained face as I thought of grabbing some ice cream with Sean. "Thanks, mom." "Any time." She insisted, bringing me into a hug. We stayed like that for a few seconds, or at least until she let out a yawn. "Alrighty, I'm gonna hit the sack." "Go ahead, I'm gonna watch some YouTube." I told the hard working woman. My mother ruffled my hair before heading to the room next to mine. If only she knew.

#pewdiecry #pumped up kicks #foster the people #light smut #mature #one shots #violence #suicide

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