#somewhat angsty I guess?

[lemoncakecats]

very flattered that my friends see me as driven. Sometimes I am lying in bed like a slug and crying bc I don't know where my life is going but it's nice to know I give off the impression of having it together.

[lilacs-stars]

aiming for your heart

this is part 1, read part 2 here! pairing: james hook x fem!reader (requested) (note: reader is glinda the good witch's daughter) SUMMARY: you agree to a tutoring session with your pirate classmate, but things end up taking an...unexpected twist. GENRE: pure fluff, a bit of banter CW: nothing much, just mentions of societal pressures WC: 7.9k (they just keep getting longer...)

A/N: I decided to finally do something cute and fluffy after days of working on dark angsty stuff and this felt like a much-needed breath of fresh air. it was so fun to write, so thanks to the anon who requested this for the fun idea! <3 please give me feedback and suggestions, I'd love to know your thoughts!

Up, swish, circle, flick. Up, swish, circle, flick. Up, swish, cir—

“Ahh, oww!” you cry out as a very solid metal object collides with the side of your skull. Your hand instinctively goes up to the spot on your head—which you can already feel starting to swell—as you wince in pain. 

You’re supposed to throw the ring in the basket, not at my head, idiot, you think to yourself as you grimace. 

“Oh my gosh, Y/N, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hit you, I swear!” you glance around the room, locking eyes with your classmate just a few tables away, whose wand is still poised in their hand and a bewildered expression planted on their face. “I just can’t seem to control…this gosh darn wand…”

You let out a little sigh, trying your best to not be impatient. After all, you couldn’t expect everyone to be as experienced in this field as you are. 

You glance back at the student, who’s rereading their textbook pages for what’s probably the tenth time. As you watch them struggle, a pang of guilt hits you for being so mean and irritable. It’s not like they were trying to hit you, and even though it was just a thought passing through in the privacy of your mind, you still feel as though thinking something mean like that is wrong. 

You push your chair back and rise from your seat, wand tightly gripped in one hand. Walking over to your classmate’s desk, you give a small smile as you ask them, “Need any help?”

They look up at you with wide eyes. “Oh, yes, please! Enchantment of Magical Objects is literally the hardest class ever!”

You grin again, keeping your demeanor light and friendly, like always. “Okay, so first, you go up, then swish, then circle your wand back around, and finally flick, and then…”

You copy the movements with your own wand as you speak, small magical sparks flickering off it at your gestures. After you complete your little demonstration, you both watch as a hand-sized sleek metal ring, somewhat resembling a circular horseshoe, levitates off the desk and neatly lands in a bucket in the center of the room. 

Today’s assignment in your Enchantment class is to use the Aiming Spell to throw the rings into a bucket. Safe to say, it wasn’t really going well for most of the class. 

“Wow, that was amazing! You’re so good at this Y/N!” your now starry-eyed classmate exclaims. “And I can barely get my rings off my desk…”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get there,” you smile reassuringly. “After all, I’ve had a lot of experience around wands and enchantments.”

“Yeah, I suppose that is right. I guess not everyone can be as talented with magic as the Good Witch’s very own daughter.”

A small laugh escapes your lips, and you bid farewell to your classmate as you make your way back to your seat. They aren’t wrong, after all. Your mother, Glinda, taught you how to use a wand as soon as you could walk. You’ve been watching her use magic for ages, so it’s not a surprise to anyone that you’re top of your class. 

You sit back down, getting back to work. Even though you know you’ve already mastered the spell, you still have some class time left, which you decide to use wisely and continue practicing the spell. 

Staring at the pile of metal rings in front of you, you take a deep breath and begin the task of making each one levitate off your desk and make a perfect arch towards the basket. 

Up, swish, circle, flick. Up—swoosh!

A flying ring shoots straight past your face, barely missing you by only a few inches. You stumble backwards in your chair, quite startled. Still, it isn’t unusual to see objects flying around the classroom, or rather, objects flying where they’re not supposed to.

A moment later, another one whizzes past you again. Then a third, which gets so close to your face that you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Annoyed, your head snaps to your right, trying to figure out who keeps nearly decapitating you. 

You glance around, finally locking eyes with what seems to be the culprit. Chair leaning against the wall, tipped back on its hind two legs, sits a figure with deep brown eyes and smokey eyeshadow look to match. A smirk is planted on his face, a mischievous glint in his gaze. He wears a dark red jacket on top of a black dress shirt, the collar disheveled and his tie loose around his neck. Contrary to his tousled outfit, his medium-length brown hair is neatly slicked back. One of his hands leisurely holds a wand while the other rests behind his head, and combined with the way he has a leg crossed over the other, one would think he’s enjoying a nice day at the beach instead of sitting in class at one of the most prestigious academies in the land.

You fix him with a look, your gaze subconsciously morphing into a glare as he jerks the wand up, causing one of the metal rings in front of him to levitate a few inches off his desk. With a flick of the wrist, he sends it flying across the room once again. Having learned your lesson, this time you duck down, eyes following the disk as it soars across the room. You watch as it shoots straight towards its target, who expertly crouches as the metal ring hits the wall behind him with a thud, falling to the ground and joining the previous disks.

The target of these attacks is a boy you recognize to be a good friend of the ring-throwing troublemaker, with light brown hair brushed away from his forehead and dressed in a dark green shirt with a black choker around his neck. Morgie le Fay shoots a glare across the room to his perpetrator, making a face that could only mean “You’ll pay for this later.”

Another disk comes shooting at his head, and he ducks down yet again. This time, the metal hits the wall so hard, you worry it left a dent. Unable to take their child-like behavior any longer, you get up from your seat for the second time and stomp your way over to the disk-thrower.

“Hook!” you say as you reach his table. The man in question tilts his head towards you, looking up with an amused grin.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, lassie?” he replies, his accent crisp and unmistakable. 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at him, knowing it would be terribly rude, even if he was getting on your nerves like no other. You settle for fixing him with another look. “Could you please stop hurling those disks around? It’s not the assignment, and you practically hit me!”

“My apologies, love,” Hook replies, still peering up at you, unbothered. You honestly doubt he means it, so you frown and try again. “I’m being serious, Hook.”

“As am I,” he replies, making you want to smack that stupid smirk off his face. Deep breaths, deep breaths, you remind yourself. Violence is never the answer. You find it funny how you can almost hear your mother’s voice as you repeat those words in your head, the ones she always tells you.

“So you’ll stop?” you ask, raising a brow and putting your hands on your hips to show him you’re not messing around.

“Ah, well, you see,” Hook starts, and it takes every ounce of benevolence in you to not internally combust at whatever excuse he’s planning to come up with. “I’m having a tad bit of trouble with this spell, love. No matter what I do, I simply can’t seem to lock on to the right target.”

At this, you raise your eyebrows again, disbelief laced through your every cell. “Why don’t you give it a go,” you say, jerking your chin towards the basket in the middle of the room. “You never know until you don’t try.”

Hook leans forward in his chair, righting it again so it stands on all four legs. He raises his wand, and if you didn’t know any better, you would think he’s actually concentrating on the task at hand. One of the metal disks rises into the air, levitating a meter above the floor.

Hook flicks his wand forward and the disk sails away, missing the basket in an almost laughable attempt at execution. Instead of the proper target, it lands on the edge of a file cabinet in the far corner of the room. You pray for the poor soul that will inevitably open one of its drawers, only to be smacked in the head by a piece of solid steel.

Eyebrows raised, Hook unabashedly turns back around to face you with that grin of his. “So how was that, love? Satisfied?”

“Not quite,” you huff, shaking your head at him. “Honestly, I haven’t seen anyone make such a…uh, interesting attempt at this assignment.” Deep down, a little part of you really wants to say much meaner things, but you bite back your words, knowing that showing contempt never did anyone any good.

“Interesting, eh?” Hook’s smirk grows, and you can see him already scheming inside that villainous little mind of his. “Say, Y/N”—he uncrosses his legs, leaning in your direction—“you’re the top student of this class, are you not?”

You narrow your eyes at him, but refrain from saying anything you know you’ll later regret. “Yes, and?”

“Well, as you can clearly see here, I require a bit of assistance with this assignment. After all, not everyone grew up waving wands like you,” he quips, flourishing the wand in his hand as if it were an ordinary stick. Abruptly, he stills his movements and drops the wand on his desk, before turning to face you directly, locking eyes. “Would you be so kind as to teach me a few things?”

You quirk your brows, albeit attempting to keep a straight face. “Are you asking me to…tutor you?”

Hook grins yet again. “This evening, 7 o’clock, the common area in the East Wing.” He puts his hand on his knees as he gets up, now leering a few inches above you. Still holding your gaze—although he has to tilt his head down to do so—he asks, “I’ll see you then?”

You blink twice, mind replaying the events that led to you getting yourself stuck in this situation. On the one hand, you definitely don't want to have a one-on-one study session with a villain—and an annoyingly smug one at that. Honestly, the few interactions you are forced to have with him in class are far enough for you. 

But on the other hand, he is asking for help to improve his grades…after all, it’s not every day someone the likes of him shows interest in learning. Plus, you know that it’s not right to turn away a person in need of your help, no matter how insufferable they are. Especially if they’re always flashing you a smile filled with shining white teeth and full, plump pink lips.

A sigh escapes your mouth before you can stop it as you resign yourself to your fate. “Alright, I guess. But come prepared to learn. That means you need your wand, your textbooks, notebo—”

He cuts you off with a passive sweep of his hook, much to your annoyance. Leaning in just a little closer to you, enough to make your palms slightly sweaty, his face tilts down even nearer to yours. “It’s a date, then,” Hook says, his voice soft but still with that teasing tone it always seems to carry.

“It’s not a date!” you call out as the bell rings, but he’s already making his way out of the classroom, sauntering off to do who-knows-what.

Heavens, what have I gotten myself into, you think, placing a hand on your forehead as you breathe out a long, heavy sigh.

The evening rolls around far too quickly for your liking, and before you know it you’re making your way out of your doom room and up a set of stairs.

You keep on thinking about how you had ample time to back out of this arrangement; plus, you would be lying if you said you didn't consider it a number of times. But each time, you remind yourself that you are doing a good deed for someone obviously in need of a good influence. That you have to be selfless and put aside your personal feelings to serve a good cause, as all heroes do. That your opinions don't really matter—after all, the best heroes are the ones who make the deepest sacrifices, right?

So that’s how you find yourself dragging heavy feet across a corridor, a tiny voice in your head begging you to turn around, as you finally reach the common area set as your meetup spot. You glance at your wristwatch, which reads 6:55. You had decided to leave a bit early so you could arrive with a few minutes to spare. As your mother always reminds you, “It’s better to be an hour early than a minute late.”

Pulling out a chair at a nearby two-person table, you sit down, plopping your bookbag next to you. You had stuffed it full of your personal notes, your wand, and several textbooks you thought could help Hook. 

Tapping a pencil on the wooden desk, you sigh, glancing at your clock again. 6:57. Thinking back on your previous decision, you wonder why you left so early. After all, you have Hook down in your mind as the type to be extremely unpunctual. Leaning back in your chair out of sheer boredom, you start to clearly picture Hook showing up a good hour late. Heck, you’d be surprised if he even shows up at all. 

The clock hits 6:59, and you begin to debate how long you’re willing to stay here before giving up and returning to your dorm. Would ten minutes be enough? Fifteen? Thirty? The more you think about it, the more you can imagine this being some sort of elaborate prank to trick you. After all, why would a delinquent villain like Hook ever be interested in planning a tutoring session?

You sigh once again, angry at yourself for being so naive as to fall for his little trick. Drumming your fingers on the table as you put your head down, you mentally punch yourself for your gullibility. 

Which is why you nearly jump out of your own skin at the sound of a loud thud sound from in front of you. You jerk back into your chair, arms flailing as it tips, causing you to nearly topple backwards. With your reflexes kicking in, your hand latches onto the edge of the table—thankfully—and you manage to pull yourself back to a more stable position.

Hand clutching your pounding heart, you roll your head back to be greeted with that stupid little smirk that haunts your thoughts. “I didn’t mean to give you a fright, love. After all, we were planning to meet up, were we not?” Hook says, tone extremely smug and a tiny bit pitiful at your frightened state. 

You raise your arm and flick your wrist, reading the time displayed on your clock. 7:00. He…he showed up exactly on time, you think, praying that your shock isn’t displayed on your face.

As if he can read your mind—and in all honesty, maybe he can—Hook says, “You didn’t doubt me, now, did you, darling? How could I skimp out on our little date?”

“It’s not a date,” you tell him once again, not even trying to hide the annoyance in your voice this time.

“Whatever you say.” Hook gives a little grin as he raises his eyebrows for a second. Before you can continue to argue, he pulls out the chair across from you and sits down. You eye a small black leather satchel that dangles from his hook as he drops it down on the floor. Huh, he even came prepared.

He leans in, arms resting on the table, as he fixes you with a sly grin. “So, Miss Teacher, what are you going to teach me today?”

You hate to pass on the opportunity to make a snarky remark, but you know that rubbing Hook the wrong way is not going to make these next few hours any less sufferable. Instead, you simply go for a “How about you start by getting out your materials?”

“As you wish, m’lady.” An irritated sigh escapes your lips, and you realize you’ve been sighing a lot more than usual ever since you got in this…predicament. You watch, somewhat impatiently, as Hook reaches down and draws a single notebook and his practice wand out of the leather satchel. Glancing at his materials, then back at yours, you realize that you came a lot more prepared than he did, even though you’re not the one trying to learn here. Well, I guess him putting in some effort still better than nothing.

You pull out one of the thick textbooks from your bag, the used animal skin cover peeling at the edges and the pages yellowed from the wear of time. 

“First, we’re going to get started with the theory of enchantments and spells.” You flip through the pages until you land on the first of many detailing the basics of spellcasting. “Even though we’re going to be focusing on the Aiming Spell, the underlying principles are pretty much the same for all spells you use. Now, you see here, highlighted in the chart are the five main…”

You chance a glance over at Hook, voice trailing off when you realize he isn’t listening. In fact, he's not even looking at the textbook placed in the middle of the desk. Instead, his gaze is fixed on…

…you?

“Hey! Why are you staring at me like that, you weirdo!” you exclaim, pulling back from the table. Hook remains unflinching, his chin in his good hand as he stares up at you with a sparkle in his eye. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it, love. You’re just so…so entrancing.”

You blink hard, recoiling at his words. He’s not flirting with you…is he? No, there’s no way. Don’t be overly arrogant, you convince yourself. This is just his personality, how he usually acts. The same way he calls everyone “love” and “darling.” There’s absolutely nothing more to it than him saying anything he can think of to fluster you and throw you off track.

…Right?

You ignore the stupid little flutter your heart does at not just being called pretty, or beautiful, or any of the normal compliments. No, you aren’t normal, you’re entrancing…

Snap out of it! you internally scold yourself. This is just another one of his little antics. You’re just letting him win by getting in your head. 

“Look, I didn’t come here and set aside this chunk of my valuable time to tutor you, only for you to not listen. If you came here to mess around—” you rant, but you’re cut off before you can get everything off your chest.

“I apologize, lassie. I promise, I’ll focus from here on out,” Hook vows. You eye him with a glare, feeling very distrustful, but you’re only met with his rather sincere gaze.

You let out another breath, once again regretting agreeing to this. “Fine. Get out your notebook. You’re going to want to take notes on this.”

Hook nods and reaches into his satchel, which is still lying on the floor. “If I’m being completely honest—which I assume you must hold in high regard, being a hero and whatnot—I really didn’t expect you to be so…irritable.”

You shoot Hook another glare, before realizing that you’re just proving his point. You give a brief roll of your eyes as you attempt a smile. “I’m not usually like this,” you say, fighting to keep a decently pleasant expression on your face. “You just really find a way to, how should I put this, you really—”

“Push your buttons?” Hook finishes for you, raising his eyebrows.

“I was going to say you really find a way to get on my nerves, but that too,” you respond, with obviously forced cheerfulness. “Whatever, we need to get back to studying. For real this time.”

Hook replies with an “Of course, m’lady,” before you begin your lecture again on the foundation of enchantments. This time, he makes sure to periodically glance down at the textbook pages and occasionally nod or ask a question, all to ensure that you don’t catch him staring at you again. Unbeknownst to you, adoration shines bright in his eyes as he studies your features, committing them to memory every time you’re not looking his way.

You spend some time going over theory with Hook, until you can feel him growing restless, causing you to start wondering if people like him have a capacity for how much information they can absorb at one time. Deciding that theory is no good if it’s not put to practice, you slam the textbook shut once you reach the end of a page, standing up.

Hook looks up at you, a slightly startled expression on his face. “Come on,” you say. “Now we’re going to see how much you paid attention by putting your lesson to good use.”

You hope to see a look of fear flash across his face, but his demeanor stays completely even. Feeling a bit let down, you remind yourself that he still has to actually cast the spell. Watch him mess it up, you think. Let’s see how smug he is then, huh?

Reaching down into your bookbag, you pull out a small bundle wrapped in a piece of cloth. You open it to reveal a handful of metal disks, similar to the ones you had used earlier in class. You empty them out on the table before walking over to the middle of the room and placing the cloth down on the floor, a good number of meters away from your table. “This is your target area,” you explain. “Stand by the table and get those rings to land within the borders of the cloth.”

Let’s see how well you fare now, pretty boy.

“Aye, that’s not fair,” Hook says, scrunching his brow as he gestures towards your setup with his hook. “That cloth’s much smaller than the basket we used in class. And the distance is far greater.”

“Well, if you learn how to get the spell right with tougher constraints than the requirement, you’ll be sure to do great for the real thing.” You flash him a wink as you watch his jaw part slightly, an incredulous expression painted on his face. “That’s how I always ace my exams.”

Hook draws in a breath, putting his ever-famous smirk back on his face, although you can feel his unease this time. He picks up his wand, turning around to point it at disks on the table. 

Up. He rolls his hand upwards, and one of the disks starts to levitate a foot in the air.

Swish. Hook jerks his wrist to the side, causing the disk to start gently vibrating with potential energy. 

Circle. He rotates his hand counterclockwise, drawing a circle with the tip of the wand.

Flick. You watch with bated breath as Hook flicks the wand towards the cloth in the middle of the room. 

Both of you follow the disc’s arc through the air with tense anticipation, as it soars, soars…

…and ends up missing the cloth by a good three feet.

Hook gives a small, halfhearted laugh, trying to keep up the suave facade. Yet you notice the way his shoulders slump forward, the way his body stiffens in an embarrassing shock. 

Part of you feels a wickedly twisted satisfaction at his failure—but as soon as you recognize it for what it is, you shove it away, repulsed at the thought of you even coming close experiencing such an emotion. Plus, the majority of you feels rather disappointed at the undesirable outcome. Whether it’s Hook’s chagrin rubbing off on you, or the voice in your head whispering that you, as his teacher, failed at your job, you can’t help but feel a bit let down at his messing up.

“Hey, it’s fine. Let’s try again,” you say softly, your usual eager-to-help manner coming back at the sight of someone needing comforting.

And so, Hook tries again. And again. And again.

Finally, after the seventh or eighth try, he puts the wand back down on the table. “I don’t know what to tell you, love. No matter how hard I try, it’s simply not working.” You sigh, looking at the floor before you, which was now littered with disks. “Hey, at least you got closer each time! That’s still progress.” You attempt to raise his spirits a bit, but he just fixes you with a look that tells you he’s not one to fall for your false positivity.

“Uhm…” You hesitate, not quite sure what to do next or how to fix this. “How about you see how I do it, and try to copy that?”

Hook gives a small nod and you fish out your wand, pulling up your sleeves and taking a deep breath to prepare. Focusing on one of the disks on the table, you start the particular movements. Up. Swish. Circle. Flick!

Both of you watch in somewhat astonishment as the ring curves perfectly through the air, flying with grace, as it lands directly in the center of the cloth.

Hook looks at you with raised eyebrows. Although that little part of you wants to rub it in his face, the fact that a hero, out of all people, bested him, you decide that torturing him with your teasing is only going to make him less likely to get the spell right.

“You see that? Now, try to copy it yourself,” you instruct.

And so, Hook makes a few more attempts, landing closer to the cloth each time, now only a couple inches away—yet never actually making contact with it.

You study his movements carefully as he casts the spell, trying to figure out what he’s doing wrong. After a few more of his failed attempts, you decide to try a different approach.

“Okay, watch me do it again, but this time come hold my wand from behind so you can get a feel for how I cast it,” you say, glancing up at Hook. “After all, it’s all in the wrist.” You recite a line your mother always says, one that often replays in your mind as you cast a spell. In your opinion, her guidance is the main reason that you’re so good at spells.

You’re still sitting down in your chair, pushing it in a little to provide room for him to come up behind you and reach your wand. 

You were expecting Hook to get rather close; after all, there aren’t many ways for two people to hold the same wand in the position you were in without a tight proximity. What you weren’t expecting was the way he comes up from behind you leisurely, deliberately. The way his chest presses into your back as he leans in, arm brushing against yours as he extends it towards the wand. The way you can feel his exhales on your skin, breathing down your neck—literally—causes goosebumps to rise up and down your arms. The way his natural aroma engulfs you completely, overwhelming your senses all at once. How his large hand feels on yours as he places it on top, curling his fingers around the wand—and yours, as well. The way you can feel the smirk dancing on his face, looking down at you with what you expect to be half-lidded eyes. 

And the way your heart races, good heavens. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought you just ran a marathon. Your body simultaneously heats up and freezes at his touches, no matter how small, your mind becoming overly aware of every point of contact you have with him. You fight against the overstimulation flooding your senses, resisting the urge to wipe your sweaty palms on your legs, while hoping that the wand doesn’t slip out of your hand as perform the incantation. 

Truth be told, although you definitely won’t admit this to anyone: you really haven’t had much experience with romance, or anything of the sorts. All your life, you’ve focused on doing good deeds and keeping up with your studies, aiming to be the best of the best in the hero world. Which is probably why no boy has ever taken interest in you; instead of going to dances or out on dates, you've always spent your Friday nights locked away in your room, studying hard to make sure you ace your exams. Plus, with your goody-two-shoes streak, you aren't exactly the most sought-out person in your class.

Which is why with the way Hook flirts with you, and now, the way you can feel his inhales and exhales against your skin—subconsciously trying to match the rhythm of his breathing—your brain is short-circuiting. The lack of romantic attention you’ve received your whole life is behind why you don't know how to react to Hook's antics, while still internally freaking out at his movements and words.

You inhale a shaky breath, trying to steady your quivering hand and hope that Hook doesn’t notice your reaction. But after the amused little hum he gives, your embarrassment grows by the second. Trying your best to focus on the task at hand, you say, “Okay, here goes.”

Up. You feel Hook’s grip tighten around your hand, just a little bit but still enough to make your heart skip a beat.

Swish. The disk vibrates with extreme intensity, to the point where you’re afraid it’ll break apart, despite the metal structure.

Circle. As you circle your wrist around, you feel Hook’s arm rub against yours even more, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. Gods, the things this man is doing to you.

Flick. You flick the wand towards the cloth yet again, jerking your head sideways to follow it as it flies across the room. Agonizing in how it ignites every nerve in your body, you feel Hook’s head brush against the top of yours as he follows your movements, watching the disk soar.

It seems, for a minute, as if it’s going to land right on top of the previous one. But to both your shocks, it falls just outside the borders of the cloth, barely touching the edge.

Your face absolutely burns in embarrassment, palms dripping with sweat now. Hook tilts his head towards yours—which you feel all too well—as he says, far closer to your ear than you would’ve liked, “Well, it seems like even the master makes mistakes, love.”

Fuming, you finally give into the urge and drop the wand to wipe your hands on your clothes. Screw him, you mentally curse. It’s all his fault. I’ve never messed up this spell before.

And as much as you want to blame him, you know that it’ll do you absolutely no good to tell him the fact that he was so close to you made your brain short-circuit to such an extent that you messed up a spell you could do since you were five.

You shake your head, refusing to accept your failure. “No, I…I don’t know what happened. It must have been a faulty disk. Just…I’m going to try again.”

Hook raises his eyebrows at you—or at least, you’re pretty sure he does, as you can’t see him from behind. You grab your wand again, and without even telling him to do so, Hook leans in and places his hand back over yours, your fingers trapped between his and the wand.

Internally, you find yourself growing impossibly more annoyed at him. Honestly, did he really have to go back to that position, the one that made you mess up the spell in the first place? You take a deep, steadying breath, forcing away all thoughts of Hook and how his dark brown eyes, beautiful and rich like the bark of the trees back in Oz, are boring into your skull right now. You simply can’t afford to get distracted again. Messing up the spell once is one thing—sure, everyone makes mistakes, don’t they? But twice? It would be absolutely inexcusable.

Twice would mean that you are not as adept as you thought you were, not talented enough in the one thing that you've been sure of for your whole life.

Remember the words.

Up, swish, circle, flick!

Fueled by your self-directed rage, you ensure that every movement you make is precise, sharp, and without a single tremor going through your hand. This time, the disk slices through the air with a clean, aerodynamic curve, and lands…

…right on top of your first one.

You beam, regaining your former confidence in your spellcasting abilities.

“The master may sometimes make mistakes, but they’re still the master,” you gloat. “Now come on, you need to practice till you get as good as that.”

You and Hook spend quite some time on practicing the spell, with you giving him pointers and him—surprisingly—improving. It seems as though your hands-on demonstration really helped him, as his skills greatly improved. 

Soon, in every set of ten rings he practiced on, he was consistently getting six or seven of them within the boundaries of the cloth, with one or two more landing on the edge, half-in. 

After one round where he managed to get nine of the disks touching the cloth—his personal best so far—you decide he needs something even more challenging.

“Woah, that was a really good round,” you praise. Hook turns to face you, and if you didn’t know any better, you would say that his normal smirk seems a little less snarky and a little more…genuine. 

“Still not as good as you, though, love,” Hook replies. You can tell he’s trying hard to maintain his nonchalant front, especially when it comes to academics, but the pride in his eyes and the earnest grip on his wand tell a different story. Honestly, you like him better this way. Less of him pretending to be a bad boy villain, and more of his real personality.

And in this moment, as you subtly study his features and think about his change in behavior over the past few hours, a thought that’s never even come close to crossing your mind suddenly pops up. What if villains, just like heroes, feel pressured to uphold a certain facade? The same way that you’ve always felt like you just have to be good, no matter the cost, no matter how hard it is for you, maybe villains feel the same way. Maybe they believe they always have to be bad, troublesome, and cruel. Even if that’s not who they truly are.

And through the lens of your new insight, you start seeing Hook in a different light. Just like how you feel as if being good and helpful and cheery all the time is a burden, how sometimes you wish you could just let loose and be selfish, maybe villains feel like being evil is a burden. Maybe Hook feels compelled to act smug and suave, even though that isn’t who he truly feels like being all the time. 

You begin to feel a deep sense of guilt for judging him based on his demeanor and criticizing his performance in class. Reflecting back, you realize that you had been unnecessarily harsh on him for something that is likely beyond his control. Gosh, I'm such an idiot, you think, shame burning your cheeks.

Shaking off your remorse, you put on another bright smile and try to respond as cheerfully as possible. “Hey, it’s still a huge improvement from sending the rings flying on top of a filing cabinet in the corner of the room. Or at innocent bystanders’ heads!” This time, you don’t encourage him because you feel pressured to do so, or because that’s who you know you’re supposed to be. You do it because deep down, in your heart, it’s what you feel like saying.

“Hmm, true,” Hook replies, angling his head to the side as he considers your point, the smallest of smiles still dancing on his lips.

“Now, for your final test.” At your statement, Hook raises a brow. “You need something different, something truly challenging. Something to prove your mastery of the Aiming Spell…”

You rack your brain for ideas, but nothing comes to mind. After a moment in silence, Hook speaks up. “I may have an idea.”

Glancing over at him, rather surprised—you were the teacher, after all—you gesture for him to go on. 

“Go stand over there by that wall,” he instructs, motioning with his hook to the wall opposite you two. “And put your hands up.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, fixing him with a look of wariness and doubt. You don’t move for a second, still too distrusting of him as you try to imagine what standing in that position has to do with casting a spell. Noticing your hesitation, Hook nods towards the wall again. “Well, go on, love.”

Still suspicious of him, you cave in and walk over to the far side of the room. Pressing your back against the wall as you raise your hands up, the position makes you feel as if you've just been caught red-handed in the midst of a crime. Hook still stands by the table, waiting patiently. You try to think back to the textbook pages you went over with him, wondering if you had accidentally taught him some sort of attack charm that he was planning to use on you.

Feeling your anxiety build, you wriggle your left fingers, wrapping your thumb and middle finger around the base of your pointer. You always wear a special, very pretty ring on that hand, a gift your mother gave to you a few years ago. Fiddling with it while twisting it around and around helps to soothe you, especially when you feel nervous.

But this time, when you go to repeat the same movement you always do, you feel the absence of the familiar metal surface and engravings etched into it. Glancing up at your hand, you confirm that your ring is indeed missing. The only trace of its former presence is the two parallel, circular indents in your skin from wearing it for so long.

Your panic skyrockets now at the loss of one of your favorite possessions, practically forgetting about Hook and the unease that accompanied his bizarre request. That ring had come with a special message; the night you got it, your mother had told you, “Remember when you were younger, and I told you that people are either good or bad? Well, that’s not quite true. No one is really black or white. We’re all just shades of gray. Some people are lighter gray, and some people are darker gray. And although we might be different shades, we all fall under the same color. Remember that, Y/N.”

And you have remembered it. Every time you go to toy with your ring, those words echo in your mind. Your mom had embedded the ring with a marble featuring a swirl of many different shades of gray, a reminder of the message that came along with it. You were too young to truly understand her words back then, but now, especially in these recent moments, you think you’re starting to fully grasp what she meant.

Snapping back to the present, you realize the serious problem you have at hand. “My ring!” you cry. “I could have sworn I had it when I came here…”

“Looking for this?” Hook’s smirk is back in full force. His left arm is raised, and on the crest of his polished metal hook, your precious ring glimmers under the golden lights projected from the ceiling.

“You…! When did you even…” your voice trails off as your mind catches up to your mouth. It must have been when he leaned in, while you were demonstrating the spell. That was the only time he had gotten close enough to you, although you don’t know how in the world he nicked it off your finger without you having the slightest hint.

Then you remember, quite painfully, how flustered you had been in that moment. If you were so distracted that you couldn't even cast a simple spell right, then you certainly wouldn’t have had enough brainpower to notice a skilled thief steal from you.

“Hey! Give that back!” you exclaim, huffing angrily, a frown etched deep into your face.

“I will, darling,” Hook replies smugly. “Now, raise your hands up again. And don’t wiggle your fingers around this time.”

“Give me my ring back first!” you demand, your previous annoyance towards him coming right back.

“Let me do this first, and then you’ll get your ring. Hands up.” At your glare, Hook tilts his head to the side and gives you a look. “Don’t you trust me?”

Well, of course not, is the first thought that pops into your mind. You’re a liar and a thief, and above all, a villain.

But then you remember your mother’s words, your earlier revelation and how, just for a moment, you glimpsed Hook through a different light. So, although you definitely won't go as far as saying that you trust him, you still empathize with him enough to give in to his request.

Wordlessly, you raise your hands back up to your sides, palms facing in front of you, while fighting the urge to fidget again. You debate whether or not it’d be best to close your eyes for this, but you ultimately decide that if Hook does try to pull any more of his little tricks, all your senses should be sharp and aware.

And so you stand, frozen, as Hook raises the wand. For a second, you think he’s going to cast the spell on you. But instead, he uses his good hand to remove the ring from where it’s stuck in his hook, instead placing it dangling from the tip. He points his wand at the ring, repeating the maneuvers you two practiced so many times.

Up. The ring lifts off his hook and levitates just in front of him.

Swish. It starts vibrating like the disks, but due to its small size, your cherished ring begins to rotate on its axis.

Circle. With Hook’s circular movement of the wand, the ring’s spinning accelerates, locking on to its target—whatever that is.

Flick. For one final time, Hook flicks his wrist, this time towards you.

You watch, your heart pounding as fast as ever, as the ring—your ring—curves through the sky as it falls, getting closer and closer to you. You slam your eyes shut for just a beat, unable to bear the anticipation, before remembering your earlier rationale again.

Eyes flying open instantly, you regain your vision just as the ring falls, falls, falls, landing…

…directly on your finger.

But not the finger that you previously wore it on. Your eyes widen again in disbelief as it slips perfectly around your ring finger.

“Uh…I…uhm…” you stammer, confused and shocked and overwhelmed with far too many things at once to form a coherent sentence. How in the world did he cast such a precise Aiming Spell, in a situation where it wouldn’t have succeeded had he been even a centimeter off? And if he was so precise with his location pinpointing, then why in the world did he put it on your left ring finger??

“Come on, spit it out, love,” Hook replies teasingly. “You can say it, don’t be afraid.”

Your mind is working far too hard for you to shoot him a glare, but you mentally do it anyway. “That was…impressive,” you finally admit, although you wish you didn’t when Hook’s smug grin grows twice as wide. Ugh, his ego is already big enough. I did not need to inflate it like that.

“Could you always cast the spell that well?” you ask, still stunned at his precision. You honestly couldn’t see how anyone who had been sending disks flying all across the room a mere few hours ago was now casting spells with the accuracy of someone who had been doing this for years.

“Why, of course not. You saw how I was earlier.” Hook’s grin grows even wider as he adds, “It’s all because I had a wonderful teacher.”

You still frown at him skeptically, walking back towards the table where he stands. “I highly doubt it’s because of that. I mean, I don’t know if even I could pull something like that off with such little practice.”

At this, Hook gives a little laugh. “What do they say, the student exceeds the teacher?”

You roll your eyes at him. “No, they call it ‘beginner’s luck.’ You should be happy you got it right this time, because you might not get so lucky on your exams.”

Hook grins again, and as much as you detest the pleasure he gets from teasing you—and though you’d never admit it—a small, dark gray part of you enjoys the playful banter between you two.

“That’s why I have you, darling. If I ever need more help, I’ll know who to run to.” He leans in close to you, so close, until his mouth is right next to your ear. You start having flashbacks to your previous experiences with Hook being in a close proximity, and the combined feelings from both your memories and his current actions causes your body to heat up in a way you didn’t even know was possible. 

He tilts his head down ever so slightly towards you, his lips feathering across your ear. “And you won’t be able to get out of helping me, my little goody-goody.”

Your mind is absolutely spinning at his words, his touch, his presence, his everything. You desperately struggle to formulate some sort of response, but just as you open your mouth, ready to question his choice of ring placement, a deep, low horn sounds, reverberating off the walls.

Curfew.

Hook breaks away from you as you glance down at your wristwatch. The clock shows exactly 10:00. Gods, how did the time pass by so quickly?

You glance back up at Hook, deciding to ignore the way he so alluringly whispered in your ear just seconds ago. “Well, uh, we have to get going, then,” you awkwardly say, scratching at your neck.

Hook stands there for a moment, staring at you whilst completely motionless, making you wonder what he’s thinking and what he’s planning to do. Just as you’re about to bid him a goodnight and turn away, he reaches his good hand out, grabbing your left one. He holds it delicately in his hand, his palm cupped upwards with your fingers resting gently on top.

Slowly, and while keeping his head up just enough to maintain eye contact with you the entire way down, he bends into a bow in front of you. Only does he avert his gaze when he finally reaches your hand, looking down at your ring, which still sits on your ring finger, as he places a kiss on the bright stone.

He peers back up at you, deep brown eyes wide and expressive.

“Until we meet again, m’lady.”

on to part 2! ->

taglist: @4ng3l-ch1ld @astrynyx @0strawberrysorbet0

just leave a comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

a/n: the demons I had to fight to not name this "if you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it" haha. anyways thanks for reading!

do not plagiarize, translate, remake, or copy my works, including my writing and images, in any way.

[soulofapatrick]

Unbreakable Bond - Jasper Hale x female reader 

Summary: Someone reveals your relationship with Jasper to the Cullens

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: a little angsty I guess but mostly fluff

Y/N’s POV 

The Cullen household is bathed in a soft, warm light, casting a cozy ambiance over the living room. We’re all gathered here, the entire Cullen family, and our guests from the Denali Coven. I’m curled up on the couch, next to Seth Clearwater, our own unique mix of vampires and wolves living together in peace. Though I’m a vampire now, I’ll forever be grateful to the Cullens for making me part of their family. 

The Denali visitors also have a new member, Isla, who possesses a remarkable and unique ability - the power of relationship identification. If I were human my heart would be pounding and I’d be sweating buckets from anxiety as no-one knows about me and Jasper. I’ve been trying to mask my scent with Seth’s all evening and I know it’s been pissing Jasper off but he understands, knowing it might still be too soon to tell anyone our relationship. Alice left just over three months ago, wishing our relationship well and hugging us tightly before she slipped away. 

We’ve all been sitting together, enjoying the light conversations, when Isla suddenly goes silent, her brows furrowing as she looks around the room. Her eyes dart around the room, evaluating the various relationships within the house. I feel her gaze on me, and it sends a shiver down my spine. I hope she doesn’t discover our secret. 

As the night wears on, the tension within me mounts. Isla’s sharp gaze flits between me and the members of both our covens, and her curiosity seems to be growing. I can’t help but fidget on the couch next to Seth. He gives me a knowing look, his eyes filled with sympathy and understanding. We’ve been through a lot together, and he’s one of the few I’ve trusted with mine and Jasper’s secret. Seth’s hand settles on my knee, thumb rubbing soothingly and I can feel Jasper bristle from across the room where he’s sulking, leaning against the wall. 

Finally, a calming silence falls over the room, conversations slowing to a quietness that is only broken by the record playing in the background. Esme, Rosalie and Tanya are looking at Isla with curiosity and I’m shifting in my seat again, my legs still over Seth’s lap and his fingers drumming a comforting rhythm on my calves. 

Isla's penetrating gaze is unwavering, and I can sense her curiosity burning like a flame in her dark, enigmatic eyes. Her words break the silence, each syllable imbued with a contemplative and almost otherworldly quality. "There's a bond here," she speaks softly, her voice tinged with reverence, "A romantic bond that's stronger than anything I've ever sensed before." Her statement lingers in the air, and I can almost hear the collective intake of breath as everyone's eyes dart around the room, desperately searching for clues.

My heart should be pounding in my chest as her gaze momentary flits to Jasper, who shifts his position from where he leans against the wall. I can feel the weight of the room’s expectations, the unspoken questions about who this powerful romantic bond might involve. My eyes dart from Jasper to Seth again, the latter trying to provide me with comfort without drawing unnecessary attention. 

Then, an electrifying moment unfolds. Isla’s voice, trembling with excitement, pierces the stillness as she cries out, “It’s you!” The words seem to hand in the air, leaving everyone shocked and bewildered. After all, everyone knows Jasper’s mate - Alice - left him months ago, a revelation that had sent ripples of sadness through the family and making me feel even guiltier than ever before. 

But Isla seems to pay no heed to the apparent facts, as her eyes dart frantically around the room, unwilling to let go of her conviction. Then, with sudden clarity, her intense scrutiny lands on me and Seth, the two of us glancing at each other and I’m swallowing hard, somewhat panicked as Isla whispers somewhat uncertainly, “You?”

Her words feel like an electric shock, coursing through the room. I feel like the ground beneath me has crumbled, and the eyes of the Cullen family, the Denali visitors, and Seth all turn towards me, their expressions ranging from shock to confusion. I can't bear the weight of their scrutiny, the disbelief in their eyes. 

In that overwhelming moment, I’m gripped by an uncontrollable surge of emotions. I jump up from the couch and, without a second thought, flee from the room. My footsteps are swift and soundless as I rush outside to the porch, needing the cool night air to soothe myself. 

Out on the porch, I grip the railing tightly, my body trembling with emotions. My chest aches, but no tears come; vampires can’t cry. It’s a though my body is trying to release something that’s forever been denied to me. The weight of the revelation, the fear of judgement and the sudden exposure of my hidden relationship with Jasper has left me in a state of turmoil. I close my eyes, trying to steady my racing thoughts and find solace in the tranquility of the night. 

With my eyes closed, I focus on the cool, night breeze, hoping its gentle touch will provide some relief. But its not the wind that soothes me. It’s the warmth and presences of someone wrapping their arms around my waist from behind. A familiar scent fills my senses, and I shudder as soft, cool lips press against my shoulder. 

Jasper. He’s here, holding me, his presence a comforting balm for my turmoil. His empathetic powers come into play, and a calm washes over me, as if he’s channeling his own serenity into my very being. In that moment, the world around me fades into obscurity, and it’s just the two of us, finding solace and strength in each other’s embraces. 

Slowly, he untangles himself from me, but his hands remain gentle as he turns me to face him. He cups my face in his cool, comforting hands, his golden eyes filled with love and understanding. He begins to speak softly, “You know how much I love you, right? And I want you to know that Alice left letters for everyone when she saw this day coming.” 

His words are a balm to my anxious heart, reaffirming the depth of his love and commitment to our relationship. I can’t help but smile though my lingering uncertainty, touched by his unwavering affection. But before I can fully process the weight of his words, he moves closer to me, my hips pressing against the porch railings, and his strong, sturdy body now surrounds me. The space between us vanishes, and the electrifying tension in the air seems to grow hotter. 

Jasper’s lips find mine with an urgency I haven’t felt since the first time we kissed when he opened his emotions to me. Neither of us realising the first time that his emotional manipulation powers can go both ways like Bella’s where he can let me feel how he’s feeling. It’s almost euphoric, being able to know exactly how he feels with no barriers. 

The kiss is a heady fusion of sensations. His lips are velvety and cool against mine, an exquisite contrast to the heat that radiates between us. I can taste a hint of his unique, familiar flavour, an  alluring combination of the forest after a summer rain, the subtle sweetness of his breath, and the enticing essence of Jasper himself. 

His emotions are a revelation, an unfiltered connection to the depth of his desire and longing. I feel the surge of his love, a powerful current that engulfs me, overwhelming but incredibly tender. There’s a are, unbridled passion in his kiss, a manifestation of the profound emotions he feels for me. It’s almost euphoric, this unadulterated exchange of feelings, being able to know exactly how he feels with no barriers, just the pure, unfiltered connection of our love. 

The kiss itself is a passionate dance, an exploration of each other’s souls through the meeting of our lips. It’s an affirmation of the love that binds us, acknowledging the intensity of our connection and a promise of the forever we’ll share together. 

“Come back inside with me," Jasper murmurs against my lips, breaking the kiss but not the closeness between us. His words are filled with warmth and reassurance, and I can feel the sincerity in his embrace.

"They hate me," I confess, my voice a soft whisper as I rest my forehead on his shoulder.

Jasper gently lifts my chin, his golden eyes meeting mine with unwavering love. "No one hates you," he says, his voice tender and filled with conviction. "They may have been surprised, but we'll face this together. You'll see, they'll understand.”

He places a sweet, lingering kiss on my forehead before entwining his fingers with mine and gently coaxing me back inside. His presence is a source of strength, and with him by my side, I find the courage to face whatever challenges lie ahead

                           ┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

TAGS: New Tag List Form

Twilight Masterlist

[pshcomforts]

➳ jealous | psh.

non!idolsunghoon x fem!reader

“cause you know i get excited, when you get jealous too”

synopsis: you and your situationship, sunghoon, play the game of trying to make each other jealous.

warnings/content: written in third pov. idiots. reader gets jealous, sunghoon gets jealous (can you blame me). honestly a little toxic if you squint. a little angsty(?). somewhat miscommunication. happy ending! fictional characters used! — mei and eun. setting is kind of high school(?). not proofread. cursing!

comments, likes, and reposts are appreciated :)

word count: 3.3k

a/n: this one was in the drafts, and possibly from a dream i had with hoon..!

༘˚⋆𐙚｡masterlist⋆.✧˚

current song playing: jealous by nick jonas

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

2:27 ────────────────|─── -1:15

the school day was almost coming to an end as y/n walked back into the dreaded door of her class after going to the restroom.

she took a huge sigh as she sat back in her seat, not too far from the boy she liked, park sunghoon.

“okay class, since we’re just gonna be doing our assignment, i’m gonna let you guys move around. go ahead and sit where you like,” the teacher announced with a smile.

in seconds, students scrambled around to find their friends. y/n huffed out another sigh after realizing her friends were gone. min-su ditched, ji-woo got sick and stayed home, and dae was doing a make up test for another class.

“damn i really am alone today,” she mumbled to herself while taking out her phone.

sudden movements were made to her empty table and her eyes landed on two guy friends.

“you look lonely y/n,” one of them said with a smile.

she rolled her eyes at him. “shut up..,” she replied, laughing with a wide grin.

as her two friends sat in the table with her, she heard a clear scoff come from the back of her. y/n’s eyes widened, suddenly remembering that sunghoon most likely saw the two guys approach her — the two guys he didn’t recognize as their shared friends, but only hers.

she didn’t see it because she avoided his gaze, but the man was burning holes through the other two, sending glares as his tongue poked out of his cheek.

✩ ‘i don’t like the way he’s looking at you’ ✩

while her friend talked in her ear, she drowned it out with her attention lingering on hoon’s reaction that she couldn’t see.

“y/n?” her friend called out to her.

“hm? oh sorry,” she said with an apologetic smile. “continue on.”

as her friend yapped on and on, to which she was actually paying attention to, he immediately stopped once he noticed something distracting.

“oh my god y/n, guess who just sat next to him.” he harshly whispered next to her.

slowly, y/n draped her head over to where sunghoon was. her eyes blew up in shock — “mei?? mei’s sitting next to him?”

she felt her heartbeats in her throat, everything almost spinning in her head as she huffed out a sigh.

mei, her old friend who was deemed a little too toxic and got cut off from the friend group, decisively sat next to y/n’s known crush — sunghoon, who didn’t seem bothered at all.

“fuck,” she mumbled to herself, subtly rolling her eyes and turning her head back to her friends.

“you okay?” she heard one of them ask. she furiously shook her head — “no but.. it’s whatever. we’re not even together,” she said with a scoff.

“you’re definitely acting like you are,” the other friend said with a teasing laugh.

“i will end you,” y/n blatantly said with a straight voice. “whatever, it’s fine.”

she went back to her two male friends who were now making jokes about a game they played. soon after, her cousin, who was the girlfriend to one of her friends joined the group.

“hey y/n,” she greeted with an eye smile.

“hi eun!” y/n said back.

“did you see sunghoon with-“

“yes, we’re gonna move on from that.” y/n heaved, rolling her eyes before shaking her head.

at this point, she almost didn’t care if hoon and mei could hear her. she was clearly pissed and nothing could calm her down.

as eun opened her mouth to speak, a sudden notification from her cousin’s phone stopped her. y/n’s eyes immediately checked in hopes that one of her friends had responded to her text, only to receive one from sunghoon.

‘You okay, y/n?’

y/n immediately scoffed, turning her head to the side of where hoon was.

his eyes that poked through his glasses suddenly met hers as they almost sat side by side, the little space between the tables separating them apart. she nearly softened at how meaningful he looked, almost apologizing with just his eyes that she could get lost in.

she fell hard for him.

“hoonie??” y/n suddenly heard mei call to him.

her eyes widened and she automatically let out a loud scoff. she let her eyes blink repeatedly as she watched her so-called situationship look back at the girl. she swiped her tongue through her teeth in jealousy, unable to calm down her heart rate at the name call.

“hoonie?” she guffawed with an eye roll. “hoonie???”

her voice slightly raised, catching the rest of her friends attention.

“did you just hear what she said?” she harshly criticized to the group, folding her arms and trying to calm down before sunghoon was fully aware.

“she’s just messing with you, y/n. you know that, don’t let it get to you.” her cousin comforted with her brows knitted together in a reassurance look.

y/n’s hands tightened into a fist, nails digging into the flesh as she began growing envious of her old friend called mei.

however, a sudden squeak in her chair was made when she moved around. it became her breaking point when she stood with a groan, going to the front of the class and picking up a perfectly fine chair to replace the loose one she sat in.

as she walked back to her table where her friends were, her eyes instantly landed on mei by accident — noticing a soft scoff and eye roll appear on her face towards her before attempting to get close to sunghoon.

y/n’s mouth gaped open in shock, turning to look at the boy if he saw, only to see that he gave her a blank face. no expression nor emotion was displayed, and it only brewed more rage in the girl he liked.

‘so that’s how it is then?’ she thought to herself with an amused grin forming on her face — ‘fine, i can play that game too.’

y/n moved her position from almost side to side with him, to facing her full back against him. she could no longer see his handsome features that paired perfectly with his glasses as the back of their heads almost bunked against each others with the same, pissed demeanor.

the two guy friends and her cousin awkwardly looked at each other, sharing the same glance that screamed — ‘should we do something?’

“go on,” y/n said with a monotone voice, gesturing for them to continue on with their topic in gaming.

as class continued on for a few minutes longer, her friends remained talking as she kept quiet — feeling best to not say much as the thought of her crush and her old friend consumed her.

she’d hear the faked out giggles from mei and the awkward laughs directed from sunghoon, both floating through her ears.

her eyes were almost filled with tears with the thought of them enjoying each other’s presence.

y/n indeed could not play the game.

she bit her lips, almost piercing through the barrier of flesh as she pleaded to not let tears fall because of something so stupid.

her hands shakily pulled out her phone, texting her other friend group who was gone for the day.

‘i really really wish you guys were here..’

‘why do you guys have to be gone :(‘

as y/n was about to send another text, her friend’s whisper caught her attention — “you okay y/n??”

his mouth was close to her ear, sending a soft shiver down her spine as she slightly backed away with watery eyes.

“yeah, i’m fine.” she pressed her lips into a half smile to reassure that she was okay.

a quiet, almost nonexistent click of the tongue was heard in y/n’s ears. her head slightly turned where the sound came from — only catching on to see that hoon had his head turned as well.

from what she didn’t know was that his eyes were shooting daggers at the male who seemed a little too close to her for his liking. he’d turn around just to glare for a second, hating how insanely close he was.

when hoon got up to sharpen his pencil and come back to his chair, she noticed the jealous boy roll his eyes before slowly curling the inner corner of his lips.

he turned his gaze away from her, replying back to mei with whatever words he had in his mouth.

y/n scoffed before looking at her friend who was awkwardly in between the mess.

“sorry, just got distracted.” she spoke with a bitter taste in her mouth.

her friend chuckled. “yeah i noticed, you’re down bad for him.”

her mouth opened in shock. “what..? no i’m not!” she immediately sent a smack to him, laughing loudly at how hurt he got.

sunghoon’s eyes quickly went to her after hearing the sound of her giggles he’s been wanting to hear all day.

man, was he wishing he was in that guy’s position right now.

he harshly sucked his teeth with his tongue as he blocked out the remaining words he couldn’t process from mei.

✩ ‘i’m starting to think you want him too’ ✩

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

long minutes passed within the time left for the school day.

with y/n and sunghoon facing back against each other, tension filled the air as they provoked one another.

the two were petty, and they intended staying petty.

their heads would turn to the side here and there, just to catch a quick glance at the tuffs of each others hairs.

no one could break the prolonged silence between them.

y/n was trying her best to not let hoon win and see how jealous she was.

she wasn’t a jealous girl, she never was.

but seeing him with someone she doesn’t talk to anymore sparked something she didn’t know she could feel. he was talking to that girl like they talked on a daily basis, and it annoyed her.

with the way she was obviously flirting and trying to be sweet with him had y/n poking her tongue out through her cheek.

it fueled fire in her blood.

sunghoon wasn’t accepting the advances mei was making on him, but he wasn’t exactly shooting them down either. that’s what annoyed y/n. he was just provoking her, and he was doing it well.

but even if he was kind of winning, he was failing the game himself.

✩ ‘am i crazy? have i lost you?’ ✩

although she didn’t use her guy friends to make sunghoon jealous, he already was just by catching how close she was with them.

the friend would occasionally talk to her about personal details from his workplace since they both used to work at the same job.

through constant times, hoon had his eyes on her longer than intended. they’d just automatically land on her like a magnet. he’d squint and dart his gaze at how his lips nearly touched her face. he just couldn’t help the possessive feeling.

✩ ‘i’m getting red in the face’ ✩

she was his girl even if they weren’t together yet.

✩ ‘you can call me obsessed’ ✩

he rolled his eyes whenever he thought her male friend would get a little too close every time he practically breathed in her ear. he wished he did something other than watch, but their little game was too far into it — and neither wanted to lose anyway.

to be quite honest, they didn’t even know why they were being petty and making each other jealous. it just happened.

so when class ended and the school day finally finished, y/n waited for everyone to leave class before she left like usual.

“bye, y/n! i’ll let my mom know about the family gathering.” her cousin bid her goodbye, waving her hands before walking out with her boyfriend.

the other friend exited from the class as well, telling her that work was calling his name. y/n laughed to herself as she purposely walked out in a slow pace, letting time pass.

however, as soon as she walked out, she felt a hand fling to her wrist — the grasp tightening as she suddenly got pulled to a more vacated area. she shook her head in confusion, looking up to the person who owned the hand that held onto her.

it was sunghoon, of course it was.

he was holding back for her to walk out, knowing she always waited to be the last.

as he waited, his head leaned against the school wall, eyes glancing at each person to make sure she didn’t leave without him knowing. when he noticed her two guy friends walk out, he specifically gave the one who talked to her a little too much for his liking, a stank eye.

✩ ‘it’s my right to be hellish’ ✩

his hold on her strengthened as he thought back to how close he was to her — steam practically coming out of his ears.

✩ ‘i still get jealous’ ✩

“geez hoon! stop tightening your hold,” y/n complained with a disgusted look.

sunghoon rolled his eyes at her. “are you going out with him or are you going out with me?” he angrily spat impulsively.

she blinked repeatedly to process his sudden words. “w..what? excuse me? first of all, we’re not even dating.” she said with a scoff.

“o..oh.. that’s right…,” he mumbled, biting his lip and closing his eyes — wanting to smack his own head at the moment.

“and i should be the one asking you that. are you going out with mei now?”

sunghoon scoffed, a satisfied smile curling onto his lips. “i thought we weren’t dating?”

“we aren’t, but i’d like to know if you’re actually into me so i don’t waste my time here.” y/n gritted through her teeth, wanting to slap the smile off of his face.

“of course i am.”

her heart skipped a beat for a second as blood suddenly rushed to her cheeks.

but she rolled her eyes in attempt to look unfazed as she said, “yeah right. seems like you’d rather go out with mei instead. you’d like that, wouldn’t you? going out with someone like her.”

she watched his face grow in confusion, and possibly disgust as she continued — “actually, you should go out with her since you just couldn’t get away from her the entire class. was it fun, hoon? talking to the girl who almost split my friends up?” she angrily raged, clenching her jaw in annoyance.

sunghoon scoffingly chuckled in response. “and was it fun to have your guy friend’s mouth close up in your ear? was it something enjoyable with how you always laughed and hit him afterward, hm?” his eyes grew dark as it still softly glistened with pain.

he furthered his steps closer to y/n, ultimately trapping her between him and the painted wall. her eyes stared straight at him, a hint of betrayal also displayed in her gaze as she didn’t respond back.

hoon exhaled a deep sigh before reaching out to hold her hand. his demeanor instantly becoming soft as he felt a relief wash over him once he came in contact with her hands.

“y/n…,” he gently called.

she was now looking down, half to hide away her blushing cheeks and half to ignore him. she shook her head as a response for him.

“maybe we should just talk another time,” the doubting girl spoke, trying to dangle her hands out of his hold, even if she didn’t want to — only to be forcibly back in his tight grip.

she gulped at the action, looking back up at him to see that he was shaking his head.

“let’s talk now,” he said while refusing to let go of their hands still clinging to each other.

“hoon…,” she faintly scowled with a soft voice.

“i like you,” sunghoon suddenly blurted. “i like you y/n. not mei, never mei. i shouldn’t have let her sit next to me, i wish i moved but i was jealous. i hated how close he was to you, i hated it so much.” he sucked in a breath of air once his lips made a firm line in humiliation.

y/n couldn’t help her inner corner lips curl as she heard his confession, it was almost like a reflex.

“oh god.., i like you too hoon.. and yeah, i was jealous too…,” she shyly admitted, closing her eyes instantly to avoid his shit eating grin.

“yeah? you were jealous? i kind of like knowing that it wasn’t just me.” he replied, raising his brows in amusement.

she shut her eyes again, sending a smack as she said, “shut up! you were more jealous than i was!” she cackled out a laugh whilst watching him smile widely in return. “are you gonna let go of my hand now?”

“no, why would i?” sunghoon’s eyes lightened with delight. “we’re together now.” he brought y/n’s hand up to his lips, placing a quick kiss on it — earning a gasp from her.

“you didn’t even ask me out!” she cracked a smile as she furrowed her brows at him.

hoon playfully rolled his eyes. “y/n, will you go out with me?”

“mm.. no! go ask out mei,” she teased with a grin.

the girl attempted to leave the scene, getting out of his hold for a second — actually believing that she’d flee successfully, just for her to get pulled back in his grip. hoon’s arms flung around her body, holding her back as the two laughed together.

“sunghoon!!”

the smitten male behind her closed his eyes in bliss, wiggling with his arms around her.

“i’d rather go out with you, i think you match me more.”

“you think or you know?” y/n emphasized, turning to face him with an eyebrow raise.

hoon took a pause, side eyeing from his left vision to the right before placing a soft kiss on her lips.

“sunghoon!” she quickly whined, hands hitting his arms as he only chuckled.

his ears became red, blushing all over in how cute she was being. watching how she struggled to get out of his strong hold was a heart skip to him. a smile coiled onto his face as he leaned in for another kiss.

their lips met, breaths on each others while he softly pushed on hers. hoon lowly groaned with his glasses falling to the tip of his nose, finally feeling her lips kiss back after having their small argument.

this was definitely the highlight of the day for him.

his hands met her warm cheeks, pulling her face closer to his as he smiled against her lips. she felt them gently move, causing her to grin as well before pulling away — loving the smitten look on his face for her.

“wow you let go of my hand.” y/n teased, putting her hand up on display for him to see. sunghoon only laughed, shaking his head as he replied — “fine, i’ll let you win this one.”

he quickly ruffled her hair, letting it fall messy to the front of her face to smile even more in amusement.

“sunghoon..!”

“i’m congratulating you!” the boy defended, putting his hands up in the air like he was in trouble.

y/n rolled her eyes, smacking him like always before intertwining their hands together.

“whatever, let’s just go.” she said, feeling his fingers tighten around her hand.

“that’s my gorgeous girl,” sunghoon complimented. he placed a longing kiss on her cheek, only for her to playfully wipe it off.

“hey!”

she chortled out a laugh, dodging his other attempts on kissing her cheek.

after a few more tries, the poor boy finally got to kiss his girlfriend.

y/n sighed, letting him win in satisfaction as they both left school together, hand in hand.

they were finally dating, and nothing could no longer separate them. their situationship was over but their relationship had just begun.

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

[st7rnioioss]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡ is there someone else?

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: matt sturniolo x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and matt get into an argument, but end up making up again.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: angsty, argument, happy ending, kissing, swearing.

a/n: hi guys. sorry if this sucks ass, ive never rlly attempted to write angst before. hope i did it somewhat right LMFAOOO.

i took inspo from @evie-sturns 's empty bed!! make sure to check theirs out if u havent already😉😉

───────── 🐇

The last few days had been rough for you. Work had completely consumed all of your time and energy out of you.

Your days consisted of waking up, drinking a redbull, work, redbull, more work, and sleep. This cycle had left you completely ruined Friday night.

Finally, you closed your computer, looking at the clock in your kitchen.

12:46 am. Fuck.

You slowly opened the door into your and Matt’s room, finding him sitting back against the headboard, watching TikTok. You slowly snuggled into bed beside Matt, wrapping an arm around his waist, trying to pull him closer to you. He didn’t budge. You kinda expected him to put his phone down and wrap his arms around you, pulling you into a warm embrace, but no.

“Matt, is everything alright?” you mumbled, looking up at him. He didn’t pay attention to his phone that was playing, but he was avoiding your stare.

“Hm,” was all he said, continuing to mindlessly scroll. This was very unlike Matt, which irritated you. What the fuck had you done to piss him off this much? Normally he wouldn’t keep his hands off of you.

“Alright..” you murmured, almost whispering as you turned your back to him, trying to fall asleep. Of course, you couldn’t. You never went to bed without a “goodnight” or at least a kiss on the forehead. There was silence for God knows how long, until he put his phone down to go to sleep. He turned his back against yours. This kinda pissed you off as well, but you didn’t act on it. Instead, you turned to face his back, running a hand from his shoulders down his back.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he snapped, pulling away from your touch.

What the actual fuck? 

“Matt, what the fuck is wrong with you? You’ve been acting strange all day! Just tell me what’s going on. Is it me? Work? Your brothers? Fans?” you tried guessing, but he didn’t budge. He didn’t want to join you for lunch earlier, dinner, even when you asked him if he wanted to go for a walk, which he normally never let down.

You were sitting up, leaning over his body that was in a fetal position. He then sat up in front of you, looking down at you, his face serious.

“You wanna know what’s wrong? You’ve been ignoring me all fucking week. We haven’t exchanged a word, you’ve gone to bed without telling me, and we’re eating dinner at different times now, and you’re always on your goddamn phone! Are you avoiding me?” he yelled with a frown, his lower lip quivering. What? 

“Matt, you’re starting to sound like my mom! I’ve been working my ass off all fucking week, don’t put it all on me! I’m sorry that I’m busy working and can’t be all over you all the time, but I actually have meetings to be in, emails to answer, and reports to write!” you yelled back. Tears were now rolling down your cheeks. You didn’t realize it until now, but practically your whole body was shaking, from both anger, but also an intense amount of anxiety. You’ve only been in a fight with Matt once, and it never got to this point.

There was silence for a bit. Your eyes were darting between his, your breaths quickening.

“Y/n, is there someone else?” he then whispered, his teeth gritted. Tears were brimming in his waterline, ready to roll down his cheeks. You stiffened. Someone else?

“What- Matt, no! No, there is no one else!” you were blinking quickly, not even trying to hold back the tears that were forming in your eyes, once again.

“I’ll go sleep on the couch…” he whispered with a slow nod, grabbing his pillow from the bed, and standing up to walk to the couch. Um, what?

You lied in bed for an hour or two. Maybe three. Your mind was still processing what you and Matt had just discussed. Had I really been doing all that unintentionally? Am really such a shitty girlfriend? Then you decided to go down to the living room where Matt was. You just couldn’t agree to go to sleep while being mad at each other. 

Slowly, you listed down the stairs into the living, immediately spotting Matt on the couch, again tucked up in a fetal position.

“Matt? Are you awake?” you whispered, leaning over him to run a hand through his hair. Matt then slowly turned his head, opening his red eyes to look at you.

“Oh, Matt..” you cooed, frowning your brows. He had been crying, hard. Matt’s pillow was basically drenched. You sat down on the couch, cupping his face to pull him into your chest.

Matt immediately broke into sobs, wrapping his arms around your waist, just above your hip.

“I’m so so sorry, Matt. Work has been sucking the energy out of me. I’ve been such a shit girlfriend,” your voice broke a couple of times as you whispered, pressing a kiss to his head. Matt was still crying, nuzzling his face into your shirt (which had been his once).

“No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have overreacted like that, I know how tough it can be. I’m so sorry, I just- I miss you. I feel like I haven’t spoken to you for a whole week,” he cried, pulling you even closer to him. His fingers were trailing up and down your back, occasionally rubbing circles against your soft skin.

“I know, and that’s my fault. I need to balance work and my life with you. You mean the world to me.” you chuckled slightly through your own tears. “And no, there is no one else. I’m so madly in love with you, you wouldn’t believe it,” you laughed, earning a soft chuckle from Matt as well. 

He raised his head from your embrace, looking up at you with a soft smile.

“I love you, y/n,” he whispered, pulling you closer to him, and leaving a gentle kiss on your lips. A small smile played on your lips as he kissed you. You then pulled away, resting a hand on his cheek, gently wiping the, almost dried-out, tears off of his cheeks.

“I love you even more. And I’m sorry for being an ass, again. I swear, I’ll make it up to you this weekend,” you whispered, a giggle leaving your lips as you realized Matt was blushing.

You ended the night cuddled up with Matt on the couch. The both of you were way too tired to go all the way up to your bedroom, but you didn’t mind. At all actually. The tight space, huge soft blanket, Matt’s body pressed up against yours, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. Couldn’t get any better. He occasionally left small I love you’s, kisses to the back of your neck, down to your shoulder, and the crook of your neck, which made you chuckle tiredly since it tickled.

“Matt stop, I’m way too tired. We can do this all day tomorrow, I promise, just please let me sleep,” you yawned, trying to push him away.

“Fine,” he huffed, leaning closer to you. “We should go out for lunch on Sunday. I’ll pay,” he mumbled, his voice rasped from the crying earlier, his fingers playing with your hair.

“Is that an invite? Or an order?” you giggled, turning your head to face him in the dim light from the moon.

“Take it as I don’t have a choice, hm?”

“Alright then, as long as you pay you’ve got my attention,” you joked, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. You’re sure he was blushing because the rest he was saying just came out as stutters and nervous mumbles.

a/n: heloo i hope u liked this🤗 i dont know why i linked the song, i just really like the cover LMFAOOOO

taglist: @chrissgirlsstuff @leah-loves-lilies @toriiniie @lacysturniolo @ukiyosturniolo @iluvmattyb @ratatioulle @sturniolho @cupidzsq

[jjunieworld]

okay but an equally angsty idea for a pt 2 for a bed in your shape

it’s been awhile and kai’s relationship didn’t work out.

he regrets losing his best friend and realizes maybe there was feelings there, him and reader run into one another somewhere, he starts reminiscing and asks if reader ever thinks about their special place and reader hits him with

“it’s just a field”

a life in your eyes ⋆ 𓈒 ✧ 🎑 ˊ𓂃

part two to a bed in your shape — requested by anon, enjoy! ♡

pairing: huening kai x afab!reader

genre: angst, smut, fluff-ish (kinda if you squint), childhood bestfriends to strangers to lovers, slice of life, blonde!kai, kai is an asshole at some point, mentions of taehyun x reader, references to strawberry blond by mitski

synopsis: it’s been almost two years since your childhood bestfriend kai left you in your sacred shared field alone and your friendship ended. now the girl your friendship ended over is out of the picture and you saw him again for the first time since that field. try as you must, you just can’t stop the undeniable pull you’ve always felt towards each other.

warnings: drinking/alcohol, reader wears a dress at one point, unprotected sex (wrap it!!), somewhat public sex? (there’s nobody around), mostly soft-ish sex, petnames (baby), creampie, oral (f. rec), some praise

word count: 7k┊part one┊masterlist

author's note: anon your brain is so big and i love you ♡ i literally took this and ran with it so i hope you enjoy!! the context of this is kinda off, so make sure you read part one to understand all of it! this was fun to write, i haven’t wrote a super angsty fic in a while so i hope you all enjoy! all feedback and reblogs are welcome ♡

tears fell from your eyes as you followed the gravel road home, blurring your vision. the sky outside was darkening; the once vibrant bright blue turning into wisps of pink and orange against a dark backdrop. you tried hard not to let yourself break into pieces, but it was inevitable. it felt like you had just lost everything all at once and now you sat alone, empty.

you held the picnic basket limply in your arms. you guessed it was a good thing you had it with you. the walk back to your childhood home wasn’t a particularly long one, maybe around ten minutes, but now it felt like an eternity. you shivered as the passing cool wind flowed over your skin. you wished this day never even happened. wished that you would’ve just smiled when kai told you he was going to bring his new girlfriend to the field that was sacred to you. wished that you never had feelings for him to begin with.

the gravel road branched out onto one of the empty main roads of your town. you followed the white lines, your head turning from side to side as the day turned into night. you still couldn’t believe that kai would leave you there all alone. couldn’t believe that he would pick some girl who he only knew for a few months over you—his childhood bestfriend. that thought only seemed to break your heart more.

kai fucked up. he realized that as soon as he peeled away from the field, knew that once he saw your heartbroken face he had passed the point of no return. but his anger and his pride had blinded him. ‘some girl?’ she was his girlfriend, not ‘some girl.’

“fuck!” kai shouted, coming to a dead stop just before the main road. his hand hit his steering wheel, hard. kai debated on whether or not he should go back to you. put aside his pride and open up his eyes to see your feelings right in front of him. it was just a field, kai honestly couldn’t see what the big deal about it was. so what if he brought his girlfriend there?

after a long moment of consideration—and it was a very, very long moment indeed—he decided to drive back to the field. the sky was getting darker by the minute and he couldn’t just leave you to walk home alone in the dark. he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if something were to happen to you and it would’ve been all his fault.

kai turned the car around sharply and sped back down the gravel road and back to the field. he jumped out the car, searching for your figure amongst the grass but saw nothing. kai’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and guilt sunk into him deep. you were gone. you were gone and nothing between the two of you will ever be the same ever again.

you wouldn’t lie and say that you never thought about kai. you did. it's been almost two years and you still think about him everyday. he was your best friend, after all. you saw him in everything; the beautiful sunsets, the morning dew on the blades of grass, the freshly baked goods and the deliciously made sandwiches. you couldn’t escape him.

it didn’t help that all of your friends were also his. you constantly heard about him, even if your friends tried to not talk about him around you after noticing how separate you and kai were from each other. you guess if came with its pros as well as its cons. without your mutual friends, you never would’ve known that kai had broken up with his girlfriend. the very same girlfriend your friendship ended over.

from what you’ve heard from your friends, the breakup was disastrous. in fact, their whole relationship was seemingly disastrous from the very beginning. “are you sure you want to hear about this?” your friend, beomgyu, asked you seriously. “i know the two of you don’t really hang around each other anymore…”

you nodded, you had to know what happened for your own peace of mind. you had to know what everything ended over. beomgyu sighed, but told you anyway, “apparently she was one of the paranoid types—you know, the ones who always think you're cheating when you step out to go to the store or something? from the beginning she was really insecure that kai was seeing someone else, even though that wasn’t true.”

your brows raised. kai had never spoken about any of that when the two of you were still friends. “yet they lasted almost two years?” you questioned. beomgyu scoffed slightly and shook his head as he thought about it. “i know, that’s the thing. he was trying to break it off with her from the very beginning but she would always find some way to tie herself around him. then, he found her in bed with her best friend’s brother!” beomgyu exclaimed, pointing a finger down onto the table as he spoke in conjunction with his words.

a small gasp escaped you as your eyes widened. “so she was projecting?” you asked though you already knew the answer. beomgyu nodded as he sat back in his seat and crossed his arms. you shook your head as your phone went off. you briefly checked it and looked back up at beomgyu, “of course she was… i gotta go gyu, i’m meeting with taehyun. you still coming to yeonjun’s party next weekend?”

beomgyu stood with you as you grabbed your things. “you know i’ll be there! bye y/nie, tell taehyun i said hi!” you smiled at him as he pulled you into a hug, telling him goodbye in return. you rushed out the café and to where taehyun was outside waiting for you with a smile.

you didn’t get to take two steps towards him before your arm was being grabbed at. spinning in the direction, you furrowed your brows in question. what you weren’t expecting was to come face to face with kai after almost two years. “y/nie…” kai breathed.

glancing over to taehyun, he wore a look of confusion on his face that probably mirrored yours. you looked back to kai with an eyebrow raised. how dare he address you like you were still best friends? “kai,” you responded curtly. kai flinched ever so slightly, like he didn’t realize that you weren’t a figment of his imagination.

“h-how are you?” he then asked. you loathed looking at him. loathed how your eyes took in every detail of him and memorized it until all you saw when they closed was what he looked like. loathed how you noticed that even after almost two years his hair still turned golden in the sunlight. you hated him. “fine. look, not to cut our conversation short but i have to go,” you spoke fastly, wanting the conversation to end as quickly as possible.

but most importantly, you loathed how as soon as you laid your eyes on him all your feelings for him came rushing back like a tsunami. you hated how you still loved him, even though now you were with someone else. you jogged up to taehyun and pressed a kiss to his lips. “let’s go,” you murmured, willing yourself not to look back at kai as you moved to get into taehyun’s car.

it didn’t surprise you when you and taehyun didn’t last. you couldn’t help but feel bad about it because you knew it was your fault. you started to become absent in your relationship, too busy noticing kai. that’s all you seemed to do ever since you first saw him again. all you could see was how he avoided you every chance he got. it’s been months and your head has once again been clouded by him.

your being itched to go back to the field, but you refused the call. it wasn’t your field anymore—it wasn’t anything to you anymore. the once painterly hills wouldn’t afflict the same calmness in you as it once did. not without kai. you knew it deep in your heart.

thankfully, you and taehyun ended on good terms. “i just feel like you’re distracted, y/n. like your heart isn’t in it. your mind seems elsewhere and until you bring yourself back to earth, i think we should break things off for the both of us,” he had told you. you weren’t even sad, you were relieved, and that caused guilt to eat away at you.

now you were at a party being held for your friend soobin, completely unaware that kai would also be there since he’s soobin’s friend too. when you walked into the house, your eyes had immediately connected and you quickly looked away as you ducked to some corner. “shit…” you mumbled to yourself as you grabbed a drink. how could you forget? they were his friends before they were yours after all.

you downed your shot and walked over to soobin to tell him happy birthday, avoiding kai who stood a couple steps away from him. soobin pulled you into a hug as he thanked you with a big smile. the party was already in full swing when you arrived and a lot of people were already tipsy. you grabbed another drink to nurse through the night as you found an empty spot on the couch to sit on.

the cake was brought out about an hour later and everyone gathered around soobin to sing to him and watch him blow out his candles. through the crowd your eyes lingered on kai and the way the smile on his lips never disappeared as he watched his friends celebrate. you took another sip of your cup—which was now almost empty—as you made your way back to the couch, deciding to skip out on the cake.

a laugh slipped from your lips as you watched your drunk friends sloppily cut the cake and hand it out to people. they were barely able to stand on their own two feet, let alone handle sharp knives. not that you were faring better yourself. your eyes were getting more and more bleary with each sip you took and it made you wonder just how strong the drinks were.

you felt the couch dip next to you. blinking slowly, you turned to see who the culprit was and your eyes widened after a moment of processing who was next to you. kai gave you a lazy smile, very clearly drunk. “hi y/nie!” he smiled. before you could reply, he added, “why aren’t we friends anymore? i still don’t understand it no matter how hard i try. i just know that i made you sad.”

kai’s face turned solemn and he grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers like he used to do when you were kids. when you were upset as kids, kai would intertwine your hands with his and let you rest your head on his shoulder. he would then tell you that everything would be okay because one day you would grow up and become adults and nothing would be able to stop you.

as much as you wanted to move away from him, you weren’t in your right mind to think clearly. “why don’t you ask your girlfriend?” you spoke, sharpness edging its way into your words. you knew that they had broken up, but you still wanted to see his reaction. kai just laughed, “i would if we were still together! haven’t been for months. you don’t have to worry about her anymore. it can just be me and you again like it always should’ve been!”

you took your hands from his, ignoring how cold your hands felt without the warmth of kai’s. “it can’t just be ‘just me and you’ again kai. you can’t just ignore me for two years and then come back because you have no one to pine over you anymore.” kai furrowed his eyebrows, “it’s not like that, y/nie.” you shook your head in return, “it is.”

“it isn’t,” kai stated firmly, or as firmly as he could while drunk and with slurred speech. “you don’t know how much i missed you these past two years.” you scoffed at him unbelievingly. missed you? it sure didn’t feel like it when he was avoiding you at every possible turn. “you missed my company, not me,” you shot back.

“i. missed. you,” kai said, separating each word. he moved to look into your eyes to ensure you got his message clearly. “did you miss me?” he asked—more slurred, as he took another larger sip from his cup. you rolled your eyes at him. “don’t ask me stupid questions,” you replied. kai smiled widely at you from the brim of his cup.

you took the cup from him and sat it on the end table near you. he really didn’t need to be drinking anymore. “you’re way too drunk. who’s taking you home?” you asked as you turned back to him. you hated how you still cared about his wellbeing after he clearly showed you he didn’t care about yours. kai slumped back onto the couch in your direction and stared openly at you. “nobody, i drove here by myself.”

sighing deeply as you ran a hand down your face, you shook your head at him. “you are so stupid,” you muttered loud enough for him to hear. kai chuckled at you, the smile lingering on his face after. you turned to him, “you’re walking home, i hope you know that.”

“as long as you walk with me,” kai replied without missing a beat. you rolled your eyes at his insistence. you rolled them once more when you told him you would. “i can’t in good conscience let you walk home alone like this. if i’m walking with you, you better say your goodbyes now.”

kai wobbly got to his feet at your words and the two of you separately went around the room saying goodbye to your friends. you were now helping him down the steps of the porch, his tall body practically completely over your shoulders. “and then step—yeah, you got it,” you said as he safely got down. he was lucky you weren’t as drunk as he was.

as the two of you walked down the road that led in the direction of his house, kai was obviously eager to strike up conversation. “so you did miss me?” he smirked over at you, his shoulder nudging slightly into yours more from the fact that he couldn’t walk straight. “i missed my best friend. you were my best friend,” you deadpanned. “were?” he repeated back to you. you stopped and looked at him, completely serious. “were,” you replied and continued walking.

“i’m sorry for hurting you y/nie,” kai spoke softly. you chose to ignore him and kept at your pace. he was two years too late. your heart has already broken and been put back together. and even then, the cracks still shown.

after a moment, kai suddenly asked, “do you ever think about our special place? our field? do you still go there?” it took everything in you not to scoff and explode in anger at him. now he wants to acknowledge how special the field was? “i think about it all the time,” you replied somewhat coldly. “and i went there twice since i last saw you there.”

“you did?” he turned to you and asked. there was a gleam in his eyes. you nodded, “taehyun and i went together when we were first dating. it really is ‘quiet but meaningful’ and ‘absolutely perfect’, you were right.” just as quickly as you saw the gleam in his eyes it left at the mention of his friend. “you took taehyun there?” kai asked. he couldn’t hide the hurt in his voice with how drunk he was. it gave you little pleasure to hear it.

you looked him dead in the eyes as you spoke your next words. you wanted him to see the expression on his face when you tossed his own words back at him. wanted to see the hurt in his eyes like he saw the hurt in yours. “what’s the issue? it’s just a field,” you voice was quiet as you watched his face fall and his eyebrow furrow slightly. his sad expression wasn’t as satisfying as you expected it to be. if anything, it just made you feel shittier.

the two of you reached kai’s house in silence. it wasn’t his childhood home you knew so well, but it was on the same street as it. you only knew where he lived because taehyun had to drop something off to him while he was with you.

you helped him inside and to his bedroom. you turned your back to him when he started to change into pajamas. “so…” kai started, finally breaking the silence. you heard the rustling of clothes behind you. “you and taehyun then…” he trailed. you inhaled deeply. “not anymore,” you exhaled, leaving it that. “oh,” kai said quietly.

you heard the bed creak and heard kai say that you could turn around. you did as told and put a hand on your hip. he was now in his bed halfway under the covers as he looked at you. you gave him a nod before turning to exit. “you can’t leave. it’s dark outside and you’re drunk. you’ll have to walk home,” kai rushed.

“it wouldn’t be the first time i walked home alone,” the words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them. this is why you didn’t like to drink as much, your filter completely disappeared. “i wasn’t there then, so let me be there now. stay with me,” kai stated as he extended a hand towards you. you shook your head at him, “whatever. fine, but i’ll sleep on the couch.”

a small smile made its way onto kai’s mouth. “don’t be ridiculous, this wouldn’t be the first time we shared a bed,” he laughed a little. you shook your head again, flashes of his words rang through your mind. “don’t be ridiculous, i could never see them that way.” you felt a pang in your chest.

“it’s fine, really. besides, my clothes smell like alcohol.” you couldn’t let yourself get into that bed with him. if you did, you knew you would forgive him instantly, you were already on your way to it just from being near him for so long. you don’t know how long you could take his sulky expressions. it was his fault you two were in the position you were in, so why did you feel so bad about it?

kai pointed towards his dresser and your eyes followed in the direction of it. “take them off and wear some of mine,” he insisted. you sighed deeply. he wasn’t going to let this go. “i’ll look away,” kai added. you shook your head once again as you made your way towards his dresser and opened it. grabbing one of his shirts and one of his sweatpants, you sat them on the edge of the bed and shrugged out of your clothes.

all you couldn’t think about as you put his clothes on was how screwed you were. you were wearing his clothes, enveloped in his scent, and you were screwed. “done?” kai asked and you replied with a measly, “yeah.” he patted the bed and you shut the lights off before climbing in it.

you made sure to put some space between the two of you as you laid next to him in the darkness. you still saw the outline of his figure and felt his heavy gaze on you. “i’m sorry for letting someone come between us,” kai apologized, his speech still slurring. “i regretted it everyday.” you didn’t want to start an argument, so all you said was, “let’s not do this right now.”

“i missed you so much y/nie. i didn’t know what to do without you,” kai continued. you looked at his outline. “go to sleep, kai,” is all you said. you saw him shake his head at you. you tried your hardest to keep your mouth shut.

missed you? didn’t know what to do without you? that meant nothing coming from him and it would continue to mean nothing until he put his money where his mouth was. he could spew all this drunken gibberish all he wanted, but you didn’t believe a word—refused to believe a word until he said it back to you sober.

“i love you,” kai suddenly slurred, knocking you completely out of your thoughts. you stammered hard over your words. “i love you, love you,” he then clarified. heat rose in your face and you knew that if you were to feel your cheeks that they would be hot to the touch. “you don’t know what you’re saying, kai,” you said slowly after gathering yourself.

you didn’t want drunken confessions if what he was saying was real and not from his delirious state. you wanted romantic, dramatic. you want a confession that would steal your breath away and promise a love everlasting. you didn’t want this, no matter how much your heart raced at its potential.

“i do, y/n,” he said barely above a whisper, words suddenly clear. he was so close to you now that you felt his breath on your cheek. his lips just barely missed brushing against yours and you desperately wanted to close the gap. instead you pulled away from him, putting more distance between the two of you.

you shook your head at him, “go to sleep.” with that, you turned away from him and shut your eyes tightly. he didn’t get to do this. he didn’t get to suddenly waltz into your life like nothing happened and spit drunk love confessions. you refused. pushing the thoughts to the back of your mind, you forced sleep to overtake you.

your head was killing you when you woke up and you barely remembered what happened last night. you certainly weren’t expecting to be tucked into someone’s chest with their arms wrapped tightly around you. slowly, you looked around the room as your memories came back to you one by one. you stilled as you realized just whose arms you were in and flicked your gaze up to kai’s face.

his eyes were on the ceiling and you could see the confusion in his face as you watched the gears in his brain turn and turn to figure out how he got here. he must not remember a single thing. vaguely, you could feel him absentmindedly playing with the ends of your hair like he would do when you were kids.

it was then that reality slapped you across the face and you realized how this must’ve looked to him. you were in his bed and in his clothes—things that haven't happened in years—after a night getting drunk at a party. he must think that the two of you had sex.

gathering up all the courage you could muster, you swallowed thickly. “kai…” you trailed off quietly. his eyes snapped to yours, widening slightly. the awkward tension in the air was unbearable. you slowly began to sit up and he unwrapped his arms from around you.

“we didn’t have sex… if that’s what you’re wondering,” you muttered awkwardly. “you were really drunk and i walked you home. you insisted that i change my clothes and stay with you. then we went to sleep.” you rubbed at your temples a little, trying to relieve yourself a little of your headache.

you stood up onto your knees, the blanket falling off of you, “i should get going…” kai’s eyes immediately trailed down your body and at the fact that you were wearing his clothes. his eyes then snapped back up to yours as you moved towards the edge of the bed. he grabbed your wrist lightly, causing you to look back at him. “stay,” kai said softly.

excuses were on your tongue but kai spoke again before you could. “at least until your headache goes away. i’ll walk you back to your car,” he added. your gaze flicked down to his hand at your wrist and back to him. slowly, you started to nod without realizing it, “okay.” kai gave you a small, shy smile as you sat back onto your knees.

he let go of your wrist and you both sat there for a moment in silence as you looked at anything but each other. you cleared your throat, “i’m guessing you don’t remember anything?” kai laughed sheepishly and shook his head a little. “not a thing,” he replied.

this was so awkward. you couldn’t tell him of last night’s events. of how he basically clung to you and told you he missed you and loved you. but at the same time, you didn’t know how long you could keep it inside of you.

“i’d rather not know if i did something embarrassing,” kai said as he climbed off the bed and to his feet. you echoed his actions. kai turned to you, “come on, let’s get you some medicine.” you nodded as you followed him. you looked outside to try and see what time it might be, but could only tell it was somewhere between morning and afternoon with the daylight.

kai took you to his bathroom and dug in the medicine cabinet for ibuprofen. once he acquired it, he shook some out into your open palm and got some for himself. you then followed him to his kitchen where he got the both of you some water.

everything felt so casual between the two of you when it wasn’t. there was too much between you. so many unspoken words and feelings ready to be brought to the light. “are you hungry?” kai asked you, already turning to dig for something to make. you swallowed thickly, words stuck in your throat. finally, you managed, “kai, we have to talk…”

he kept his back to you as he made ramen, “i know we do, but does it have to be now?” you sighed and sternly said, “kai.” he turned back to face you. “eat first. please, y/n,” his voice was quiet and almost desperate, like once you left his house he’d never see you again. and maybe he wouldn’t. maybe the two of you would go back to avoiding each other’s existence while at the same time acknowledging it— forever skirting around each other.

“fine,” you sighed as you slumped into the dining room chair. after a few moments, he sat a bowl in front of you and sat opposite of you. the two of you ate in quiet, but surprisingly comfortable silence. once you ensured he was finished, you looked at him expectantly.

kai swept the messy blonde hair out of his face before settling his gaze on you. “where do you wanna start?” he asked you. you thought about it for a moment. you knew you both should probably start from the beginning, go all the way back to the day he left you at the field, but you needed to know how much he knew of last night. “do you remember anything from last night?” you asked him.

“bits and pieces,” kai replied. “i remember walking home with you, but not anything that we may have talked about. everything from there is really fuzzy—god, what was in those drinks?” you chuckled a little and a smile formed on kai’s face. “why, did i say something weird?” he asked jokingly.

the lingering smile on your face faltered and you looked down to your noodles as you decided to take a bite of them instead of answering. “let’s start back at the field when you stormed off,” you spoke after eating. “you left me alone there. don’t get me wrong, i can understand why you were angry, but you left me alone there, kai. you refused to see my side of things.”

“i know, and nothing will change what i did,” kai said, his eyes falling to the table. “i realized too late that i fucked up. when i went back to the field you were already gone.” your heart pounded in your chest. he went back to the field?

“i shouldn’t have let my emotions cloud my judgement. that field was our sacred place, you were right. i should've seen that it wasn’t ‘just a field’ and i should’ve seen the hurt in your eyes earlier when i stripped it of its specialness,” kai looked up to you and searched your eyes.

you held steadfast onto your emotions. you wanted everything laid out onto the table, everything swept out from under the rugs. “was it worth losing me? cause i can tell you one thing,” you looked him directly in the eyes, “it wasn’t worth losing you. losing your best friend and the person you love most in this world in one swift motion over a girlfriend wasn’t worth it.”

kai’s eyebrows raised in shock at your words and he opened his mouth to speak but you beat him to it. “don’t act like you didn’t know about my feelings for you. maybe you didn’t know then, but there’s no way you don’t know now,” you said, tucking your hands under the table to hide their slight shaking. you continued, “i have to know. was she worth it?”

“no,” kai said immediately. that wasn’t enough for you. “why?” you asked him. he gave you a nonchalant shrug, like it was the most obvious and plain information in the world, “she wasn’t you. she never was.” your mouth went dry and your words died in your throat. you knew that the potential of him loving you more than just as a childhood best friend was raised due to his drunken confession, but to hear him say it so straightforward while sober fully set ablaze the feelings for him you tried so desperately to hide away.

kai continued, “she wasn’t worth losing you, not in a million years. i knew that as i stupidly drove off, when i stayed with her for almost two years and all we ever did was fight over you, and i knew that as soon as i saw you again at that café. she wasn’t you.” you inhaled deeply as the two of you stared at each other for a moment, trying to ground yourself in some way.

you closed your eyes briefly. so much has changed in such little time it overwhelmed you. “what about when you told yeonjun you could never see me that way? at your birthday party?” kai’s brows furrowed as he tried to remember what you were talking about. you saw the gears turn until it finally clicked in his head. “we weren’t talking about you, y/nie… we were talking about the girl he was trying to set me up with. i told yeonjun i wasn’t interested if it wasn’t you and he told me that i needed to confess,” kai replied.

“and now that i’m right here in front of you?” you asked softly, quietly, as if you were scared of his answer. the corner of kai’s mouth tilted up, “would you forgive me if i don’t let you go?” you couldn’t help the smile that formed on your face and the butterflies in your chest. he was always the cliché. “always,” you responded, face breaking out into a small laugh.

you then smirked at him slightly, “you owe me a walk.” the both of you stood to put the dishes in the sink. once you were done, kai trapped you against the counter. he leaned in close to you, “and another picnic.”

humming, you placed a finger to his lips and pushed his face away. kai smiled and took a step back to let you free. “don’t push your luck,” you chuckled.

somehow on the walk back to both you and kai’s cars, he convinced you to let him take you to your field after you both went home and got cleaned up. “come on, y/nie! i told you i owed you another picnic! let me pick you up,” he whined slightly as he blocked your car door.

you rolled your eyes but agreed anyway. “good! i’ll see you in an hour!” kai quickly pecked your lips before running off laughing like a maniac towards his own car. “your pushing your luck!” you called after him, shaking your head as you got into your car.

so here the two of you were, sitting on the same picnic blanket the two of you would always use in the middle of your sacred field. you both didn’t have time to make anything, so you stopped at the store and grabbed whatever your hearts desired from the shelf. your picks were spread out on the blanket around you.

the sun was starting to set as it turned the sky purple. you took the last bite out of the sandwich you picked out as you looked up at the clouds. “that one looks like a dinosaur!” you exclaimed, pointing to the cloud. kai scooted closer to you until his chest was just about pressed to your back and your cheeks were touching. he followed your finger upwards, “that’s clearly a flower.”

you turned to look at him, a slight pout on your lips in protest. “like you are,” kai smiled and you playfully rolled your eyes. “lame,” you dramatically drawled out. kai laughed, “oh yeah?” you nodded with a smile, squealing a little when his lips suddenly pressed to yours.

pulling away, you looked at him with wide eyes, “at least take me out to dinner first!” kai laughed more as he pulled you onto his lap while kissing you again. the sundress you wore rode up a little as his hands trailed to your hips. the kiss between the two of you was getting real heated real quick and you broke away to give your burning lungs oxygen.

you and kai’s foreheads were pressed together as you breathed heavily. wrapping your arms around his neck, you kissed him again deeply. you grinded down onto him as the sudden need for friction clouded you and kai groaned. his hands on your hips tightened.

kai was then laying down onto his back on the picnic blanket, pulling you down with him with your kiss. he broke away, breathless, and looked in your eyes. his hands were on your ass now and he gently nudged you forward. “sit,” he breathed. your eyes widened as his hands moved towards your thighs that were around his torso. “please,” kai added.

his breathless desperate plea could’ve sent you over the edge alone. you sat up, pressing your hands to his chest as you moved to take off your underwear. you discarded it somewhere beside the two of you as you moved up his body holding up your dress. once you got around kai’s neck, you stopped to look down at him. his eyes were too busy focusing on your now exposed pussy.

“fuck, baby… you’re so wet for me already?” he asked as he grabbed your thighs and moved you more towards his mouth. you didn’t get the chance to reply before his lips was sucking on your clit. you let out a loud gasp as you doubled over, back arching as you grasped the picnic blanket. “that’s it, let me hear you. be as loud as you want,” kai said as he briefly pulled away.

he made quick work of you with his tongue. you would’ve thought that he was a starved man and this was his first meal in months with the way he ate you out. your legs trembled as loud mewls escaped your lips. kai held you steady, his fingers digging into the plushness of your thighs, as you let out a breathy moan. “k-kai—“ you started to warn him but him swirling his tongue around your sensitive clit halted you in your tracks.

you leaned back as you felt yourself cum on his mouth. you tried your hardest not to squeeze your thighs together and instead grabbed at the fabric at kai’s shoulders. breathy moans spilled from your mouth and kai’s tongue helped you through your orgasm. once you were finished, kai licked a strip up your pussy with his tongue, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

breathing heavily and with weak knees you moved down so that kai could sit up. his whole lower jaw was wet with your release, causing it to shine in the setting sunlight. you kissed him hungrily and your hands reached down to unbuckle the belt he was wearing. kai laughed against your lips at your eagerness, “you want my cock that bad?”

kai’s voice was low with an edge of playfulness in it that made you want him to strip you completely naked and have his way with you. his breath fanned across your ear and all you could do was nod as you pulled the belt from the loops around his jeans and threw it to the side.

you could feel just how big he was from the hardness trying to escape his jeans. and you weren’t wrong when kai got up to pull down his jeans and boxers. your eyes widened slightly, but you weren’t one to dismiss a challenge.

you had practically climbed kai like a tree, his soft laughs filling your ears as you climbed on top of him. you needed him, desperately. especially in the past two years with little to no contact at all with him. you were in the middle of lining the tip of kai’s cock with your entrance, fully ready to sink completely down onto it with the help of the white liquid still dripping out of you, when kai grabbed your hips to stop you.

“don’t rush,” he said. you could tell he was fighting the urge to not fuck into you with how strained his voice sounded. “go down slowly,” he added. you did as he told you to do and sunk down on him inch by inch. the stretch took you by surprise and you had to grab kai’s shoulders for support.

after a moment of you adjusting to him—more you preparing yourself as you already felt the tip of him pressing into your sweet spot—you gave an experimental roll of your hips. it was like you were suddenly blinded by pure bliss and you were sure you were hurting kai with how hard your nails were digging into his shoulders. “mmm, baby. you feel so good. keep going,” kai said with his eyes screwed shut tightly.

you moved from your knees to your feet and readjusted kai’s cock inside you before connecting eyes with him. you rolled your hips towards him as you bounced up and down on his hard cock. kai’s hands were on your hips, helping you move them with the rhythm you created. his whimpers sent fire to the pit of your belly as you continued to ride him.

kai brought his lips down onto yours sloppily and you wrapped your arms around his neck to bring him closer. your moans and whimpers intertwined with each other as you both inched closer and closer to your climax. the noises filling this field from the two of you was downright sinful, but you couldn’t help but become even more turned on from the sound of you bouncing on his cock.

you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the finish line and no doubt kai could feel it from how much you were clenching around him. kai’s head fell to the crook of your neck, his nose leaving goosebumps on your skin as his mouth found your ear. “don’t stop… please… please keep going…” he trailed breathlessly. “i want you to cum for me.”

it didn’t take much longer for you to fall into his chest as you dripped warm cum down his cock. that must’ve finally broke kai as he pulled you down onto his chest as he laid back and positioned your hips so he could fuck up into you. “j-just a little longer, baby,” kai cooed at your whimpers. the speed was so rapid it left you trembling again and had tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

you buried your face in kai’s chest, thankful it muffled your loud moans of pleasure, as you listened to your skin slap against his lewdly. you felt kai start to twitch inside you and suddenly his warm cum was filling you up to the brim, dripping out of you from around his big thick cock. you wanted to help him with his high no matter how sensitive you were, so you pushed up from his chest and started rocking your hips as best as you could.

when you couldn’t take anymore—and when kai’s hands were on your hips forcing you to stop—you fell back down onto his chest. you look up at him and ran your hands through his golden hair to get it off his forehead. kai’s eyes were closed and there was a ghost of a smile on his face like he was in heaven.

after a moment of catching your breath and looking up at the sky, you weakly commented, “the sunset is so pretty.” kai’s chest vibrated as he laughed. “not as pretty as you,” he smoothly replied. you smiled as you rolled your eyes, “that was so corny.”

you sat up and pulled yourself off of him, missing how much he filled you up. kai grabbed some of the napkins you had gotten from the store and began cleaning you up. there was a goofy smile playing on his lips. you sighed playfully and looked down at him. “what?” you asked, fully expecting him to say something cheesy.

kai’s laugh filled your ears, “now this place is really sacred and special.” you jaw dropped at him, which only made him laugh harder. “kai!” you exclaimed, slapping his shoulder as heat rose in your cheeks.

© jjunieworld - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

taglist: @lillynval @hearts4huening @jjunberry @gothgyuu @spooksh0wbabe @beargyuuzz @kittyhyuka @dani-is-tired @riaawr @nxzz-skz @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @rapmonie2047

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[featherandferns]

5. “Ah Yes. Betrayl, I’m Familiar With That”

22. “You’re My Best Friend” Angst Pleaseee

🫂❤️‍🩹

21. "You're my best friend"

I've actually already done prompt 5 (read wasps here) and prompt 21 ("You're my best friend" is 21 not 22), so I just did an angsty prompt 21 instead of redoing both- I hope that's okay! <3

Season 4 spoilers kind of? Just episode 1 vibes.

Promise - prompt 21

JJ Maybank was designed for you to fall in love with him. It ran deeper than his looks; penetrated through the flesh. His personality was interwoven with his beauty the way his veins lined his muscles and skin. All the idiosyncrasies that made him up in flaws and faults, like his recklessness and his impulsiveness, were nothing but charms in your eyes. He caused trouble wherever he went the way a hurricane accidentally leaves a wake in its path. You chased that trouble like a storm chaser: compass and map and get-away car at hand, just for him. 

By the wonder of fate, you ended up by his side. It was as though the universe placed you there - as if you and JJ were born from the same star dust, destined to find one another in the next life. From childhood, you were in the picture. Offering him a place to stay when his dad was in one of his blind, drunk rages. Giggling through pier jumping adventures and screaming through cheesy horror flicks. Later, older, he was there after your first “heartbreak” and you were there to hear about his cunning escapades with a random girl on the island, his virginity no longer a mark on his name. And with this age came realisations and ramifications. With this age came thoughts and feelings that were new and alien to you. The kind that warps one’s perception. The kind that frames someone in new ways under new titles. JJ Maybank went from being your snotty, scheming long-lasting friend, into your crush. The more time you spent in his orbit, the closer you were drawn. And so, as designed, you fell in love with him. 

He was hard to read and harder to decipher. A flirt, no doubt, though less so as the Pogue-centred adventures grew. His carelessness diminished somewhat when the stakes grew. When the sight of blood and dead bodies became shy of the norm, even compared to his youth in his father’s shadow. John B and Sarah went and with that, JJ came. Closer to you than ever. Needing you more than before. Restless nights and lonely days which you were more than happy to fill, needing him just as much. Nothing beyond cuddles and shared beds. A kiss that never strayed more than a cheek or forehead. Then, reunited with the formerly missing Pogues, came his lightness once more. But that distance didn’t come: he was still just as close. Almost attainable. Poguelandia and El Dorado felt like fever dreams in this light. The one constant was JJ, no matter what, and you the same for him. 

Now, settled, JJ’s old Maybank home rebuilt and remade, the bait-and-surf shop up and running, the gang tethered together through trauma and triumph: you finally felt like everything was falling into place, the same way you had fallen for JJ. 

“I might just sleep out here tonight,” JJ tells you. He’s lying by your side on the newly fixed up boat. The two of you are staring up at the sky, slowly starting to fill with stars, slowly losing the colour of daylight. 

“You’ll be dinner for the skeeters,” you say. 

He shrugs. “Circle of life, I guess.”

Laughing quietly, you turn your head. His hair is short again - dirty blonde, sunkissed highlights. The small jut of his chin and the slope of his nose. The high press of his cheekbones from his small, lingering smile. At the feel of your gaze, he turns his head too. An air of amusement brushes over him; has him almost laughing, quirking a brow. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” you hum. Your own smile falters and your stomach churns. The words are brewing deep within you like a slow, roasting broth. They’d been there for years now, waiting to slip out, and you felt like you can’t hold it down much longer. JJ’s own smile fades into a look of worry, mirroring your own anxiety. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you repeat, lying. “I just…I’m just happy.”

His lips twitch upward again. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m happy you finally have a home, JJ,” you quietly say. 

Visibly moved by your sentiment, his hand reaches out for yours, lying limp on the cool plastic exterior of the boat. He squeezes your hand in his. Smiles at you. Holds your gaze. As if drawn in by some outside force, you lean over. Your eyes slip shut and your lips find his, and there, you plant a gentle, soft kiss. It’s no more than a peck. No more than a fleeting, almost phantom moment of weakness. Lingering, lips no more than a centimetre from his, you wait. Wait for some absolution that you hoped might come. 

JJ clears his throat. His hand slips from yours. Your heart cracks like the break of an ice surface as he sits up, sort of hurried. You sit up too. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, knowing fully well what the answer is. 

JJ is reaching for his boots that he took off an hour or so ago. He meddles with the laces. Not looking at you, he mumbles, “why’d you have to do that?”

“What?”

“Everything was…God, why the fuck did you have to do that?” he repeats, frustrated, maybe even angry. 

Your eyes sting and your heart burns and it starts to feel as though you’re slipping away from yourself. “I don’t know. I just…I just figured–”

“--Well, you shouldn’t have,” JJ snaps, his head darting up. Your eyes meet his and there’s this panic there, deep and damning. You feel damned. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. Sorry for what? For kissing him? For thinking that he might feel the same? For hoping that he might? 

JJ shakes his head and looks back at his boots. His frantic movements stop, fingers mixed with his laces. “Why’d you have to do that, huh? Everything was finally how it should be and now…Now it’s all messed up.”

“Messed up? No, no, it doesn’t…We can just forget about it,” you hurriedly say. You grab at his forearm, wanting his attention, now for a whole new reason. “We can just pretend it never happened.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“I don’t know. I just thought that maybe, with everything that’s happened, maybe you might feel the same way,” you stammer. 

JJ’s eyes slip shut. It’s as though you gave him the diagnosis to a disease he always dreaded. “We can’t.”

You’re not sure what he’s alluding to with that. We can’t pretend it never happened? We can’t move forward? We can’t be friends? 

“You’re my best friend,” you whisper. “I don’t want to lose you.”

JJ gnaws at his lower lip. You sit and wait and hope and pray that you haven’t managed to tear apart years of friendship with one stupid moment of idiocy. Ironic how JJ lived his life in spur-of-the-moment choices but the second you make one, it might haunt you forever. Eventually, as if in slow motion, he looks at you. There’s a sadness in his eyes as though he knows what he says will pain you, and your heart takes pause as you wait. His lips move wordlessly at first and then, sighing, he finds the words. 

“I’m in love with Kiara.”

You feel like bleeding ink on a page. Like you have no mass or place of purchase. Like any meaning you ascribed to anything is now without, soulless and baseless; a work of fiction, like some Shakesperian tragedy. 

“Oh,” you breathe. 

He nods. “I…I’m sorry, I just…I don’t feel that way for you.”

“Okay,” you murmur. You think you might throw up. You shift in your spot as if preparing to. JJ reaches out a hand and it burns when he touches yours. 

“I don’t want to lose you though. I do love you, but the love I feel for her is different. I’m sorry, I don’t know why, I just–”

“--JJ, please,” you beg. You force yourself to look him in the eyes. He’s terrified of everything. Always has been, as long as you’ve known him. More than anything, terrified of love. And you know what that means, for him to care so deeply for someone. You know that he needs you. And you know that, despite everything, you need him. It hurts to be something but it’s worse to be nothing, after all. 

Somewhere deep inside of you, you find a smile. A forced, placid smile, like a lady-in-waiting might wear. Your other hand envelopes his and you will the tears away. 

“I’m your best friend,” you assure him. The words are sour like acid on your tongue. It feels like blasphemy. Nodding, as if trying to make yourself believe it too, you say, “we can forget the whole thing.”

A relieved smile comes to JJ’s face like a breath of air after free diving. He leans back, nods, happy, overjoyed, appeased. 

“Thank God. Cause I don’t know what I’d do without you. I really don’t,” he says, meaning every word. Maybe that’s what hurts the most. 

Nodding, agreeing, you say, “Kiara would be an idiot if she didn’t want you, too.”

Smiling to himself, his head dips, abashed, and you know then and there that he’d never be that way for you. He gets up and as his hand slips form your hold, it feels like you’re losing him forever. Once again, he’s reframed. Different again. No longer your crush, no longer your future, and no longer your best friend. He’s a mirage. He isn’t real. You no longer know what to call him or how to name your connection. Because as he walks away, bidding you goodnight, heading to the house where Kiara sleeps soundly, beautiful and brilliant, you begin to cry, knowing that you would never be able to forget it, and yet knowing that you had to. 

JJ Maybank was designed for you to fall in love with him, but he was never designed to love you back.

[therabbitthatpostthings]

Honestly I understand why everyone in the classroom looks so scared of Uzi. Imagine if you will:

You are a worker drone you live everyday in constant fear of the murder robots outside of your city’s compound. The daughter of the most famous drone in your colony blows up your classroom. She already generally unlikable and standoffish and has taken over the sentience of one of your classmates already. Anyway you go home form school and a couple hours later she rushes in and fights in a 2v2 with a MURDER DRONE AND WINS! That railgun she brought actually does work and totally could have killed you earlier. Yay!

She banishes herself for ONE DAY and you see her at school somewhat more angsty than usual. At the same time, the prom court is disappearing. Then the most popular girl at school invites a murder bot into your school and two drones PLUS UZI fight off the OTHER most popular girl in school.

THEN- a couple weeks (?) later you go on a school trip that wasn’t supposed to be a school trip and the teacher leaves you in the care of the TWO MURDER ROBOTS AND ONE OF THEM SHOT SOMEBODY- AND WHOOPS UZI IS GOING FERAL AND EATING PEOPLE GUESS ILL GET ON THE BUS AND ACT LIKE THIS IS NORMAL AND HALF OF MY CLASS ISNT GONE-

And then- it’s quiet. Uzi’s not in class. Everything is calm for a while. Peace and serenity. And then the planet starts…pulsating??? SUDDENLY YOU ARE LAUNCHED INTO SPACE- GRAVITY IS ALL TYPES OF FUCKY WUCKY. YOU ARE BARLEY KEEPING IT TOGETHER.

And just when things start to go back to normal- GUESS WHOS BACK ITS UZI! She had the audacity to say “maybe we should have stayed behind the doors!”. And she tells you that every scary thing that has happened over the last couple weeks/months has been some scary ass psycho virus that may or may not still be in a good chunk of your classmates (and even if it is- Uzi’s the main admin. Don’t think she told anyone that tho). The murder bots are just CASUALLY in your classroom, SHE’S DATING ONE OF THEM!

And now she do this!

[call-sign-shark]

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x You

Summary: It was supposed to be an entertaining evening. Boxing fights, booze and party. It wasn't supposed to be one of the worst days of your life. || Featuring Tommy Shelby x Reader

Words: 4.5k

TW: angst+++, alteration of canon events, canonical violence, depictions of slaughter and body horror, main character death, Reader's husband dying, suicidal thoughts, graphic murder. Parts in bold are direct quotes from the show. Parts in Italics are direct quotes from preceding chapters. Also, Tommy will take more space in the next chapters.

Notes:

✞ Shorter chapter because it's extremely violent and angsty. Also, I'm super rusty so I tried to write it in a more direct style so it's prolly less poetic and beautiful.

✞ This is chapter 16 of the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes. Each chapter can be read as stand-alones but reading the whole series will make the experience far more intense.

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT PART

The extraordinary general meeting of the Shelby Ladies Club.

This is what Polly called this unexpected little meeting in the bathroom right in the middle of the rigged fight happening a few rooms away. When you entered the lavatory with Ada complaining about the sparring between Goliath and Bonnie, Aunt Pol was taking a cigarette from the silver case she was holding while Lizzie was fixing her hair.

“I love your messy bun, Heaven.” Lizzie complimented when she saw your reflection in the mirror she was using.

“Thank you Liz. Ada scolded me and decided that it would be a better hairstyle for tonight.”

“You never style your hair except for braids and it’s a fucking shame considering how beautiful and long your white mane is.” The young Shelby sister insisted.

“If you say so,” You snorted, amused, “What are you doing here? Plotting and scheming? Leave these for Thomas.” You smirked, sitting on the edge of a sink with movements as nimble as a cat. Your little cutting remark had the expected effect: the three girls laughed with sincerity, somewhat amused by the beef between you and the family’s boss. They had eventually learned that nothing could ever ease the tension between the two of you, so laughing about the matter was the only thing they could do. A part of you couldn’t help but think that they wouldn’t find it that amusing anymore if they knew the unhealthy turn your mutual hatred had taken.

What did you feel when we kissed? A shiver ran down your spine as you heard Tommy’s husky voice, as charming as venomous, whispering in your ear. It might only have been a memory, but you could almost feel his hot whisky breath brushing your skin.

“Heaven has some news.” Polly’s voice resounded in the bathroom, snatching you from your thoughts.

“Me?” You asked, batting your bambi lashes in incomprehension before the understanding of the situation slapped you right in the face.

“Well, tell her. Now! While the men are screaming for blood.”  Polly sneaked a cigarette between her thin, red lips. 

Your blood momentarily froze in your pale veins for this unexpected pregnancy wasn’t something you wanted to talk about. For sure Aunt Pol didn’t mean to do harm, but the surrounding chaos and your last encounter with Luca Changretta seriously eroded your wish to have a baby. The baby who made you so vulnerable during times that were anything but good. Moreover, a quick glance at Lizzie’s sad and anxious eyes had been enough for you to understand that something was weighing on her shoulders. Something you had guessed for a few days. Something she needed to talk about more than you. The corner of your mouth turned up in a half-smile.

“Well, I discovered something about Lizzie but I think she should be the one making the announcement. Shouldn’t you, Lizzie?” You winked, replacing one of your long white strands of hair behind your pierced ear with a naive pout. Glitters of hope and gratefulness suddenly sparkled in the ocean blue of the secretary’s eyes to whom you replied with a discreet nod before grabbing Polly’s cigarette case.

“I’m up the duff. And it’s Tommy’s.”

You took a long drag on the cigarette and slowly exhaled the smoke by your nostrils as the attention was now on Lizzie. Even though Ada almost choked on her sip of gin, she quickly showed interest in the tall woman’s pregnancy. The only one you didn’t fool was old and cunning Aunt Pol who gave you a brief “okay I get it” glance before turning back to Lizzie.

It’s a girl. Call her Ruby. Ruby Shelby. She’ll be a star in a Hollywood movie.

You watched the scene with a light smile floating upon your plump and glossy lips, satisfied by the outcome of your little trick as well as the surprising unconditional support Lizzie was receiving after years of being seen only through her job as a prostitute. Admittedly, the reason behind the little push you gave to Lizzie Stark was purely selfish, but you couldn’t deny the fact that you kind of liked the woman despite never really interacting with her. She got the attention, and you got peace. It was a win-win situation.

“Congratulations, Lizzie.” You said, your siren-like voice as soft as a lazy ocean.

“She’s a real Shelby lady now. Just like you, Devil.”  Polly’s smirk betrayed her amusement. You rolled your eyes teasingly before proudly showing your left hand and wiggling your small fingers to display the magnificent wedding ring Arthur had gifted you.

“What about you Hev? When are you planning to give us a little Arthur?” Ada suddenly asked, Lizzie's news had visibly rendered her sour mood better.

“I think one Arthur is enough for now, don’t you?” You got up from the sink and carefully smoothed the folds your revealing black dress, “Anyway. Ladies, let’s rejoin our gentlemen.”

“I guess the meeting is over.” Ada added with a little chuckle

Joining deeds to words, Polly gently hooked her arm with yours in a motherly gesture and guided you outside, where the crowd’s roars were echoing.

Laughs and cheers filled the room as Johnny Dog put on a show to get more men to bet on the winner of this fight. Swallowing a mouthful of gin, your seraphic traits turned into a wince at the burning sensation the alcohol left in your throat – that new batch was strong, indeed. The sweet taste that exploded on your tastebuds, when the tip of your rosy tongue licked your juicy lips, made you grin, or maybe it was the all-consuming smell of sweat and blood that lingered in the air. It might come off as surprising for other women, but you enjoyed watching fights. There was something brutal but so real about them. After all, humans were just animals wearing suits. Animals which, according to you, had barely learned to speak instead of growling.

Your lips pinched the cigarette as you took another drag you quickly blew, your eyes following blood spurting from Bonnie’s nose and splattering the ground. Although quieter than Polly, Lizzie, and Ada, who were laughing, screaming, and sometimes nudging you in excitement at each violent blow the Romani boy gave back to his opponent, you had a lot of fun. Until a peculiar but familiar feeling blossomed within.

It started with a chill creeping down your spine and ended up with light tremors shaking your frail silhouette. Instinctively, you raised your piercing gaze and searched for Arthur somewhere among the crowded rows of folded seats. Your usual calm demeanor faltered as you noticed that your husband seemed troubled by something, rapidly glancing from here and there, attempting to read the room for whatever reason. He didn’t even pay attention to you, far too busy observing the men that were around the boxing ring. Eventually, Arthur stood up and left, his steel blue eyes fixed on someone he followed through the depths of the building. Let me do my fucking job! That’s what he barked at Tommy, or at least what you thought you overheard.

You frowned as a strange sensation rippled through your mind – like a distant, haunting whisper of something looming, a threat. Nervously swallowing your saliva, your first reflex was looking at Tommy. You couldn’t place it, but the odd feeling gripped you tightly like an omen you couldn’t shake, warning you of an approaching storm. It seemed like little King Shelby shared your inner agitation though, for his mesmerizing turquoise eyes dived into yours with the same nervousness and incomprehension. Whatever the many reasons behind your hatred, you were definitely on the same wavelength at this very moment. The silent conversation, expressed through brief eyebrows and eye movements, was more or less the following:

-Where is he going?

-I don’t know. It’s prolly the booze and the pills.

-It’s not. I’ll check.

-Don’t fucking do that.

You stood up from your seat with a clenched jaw and, feeling the vibration of this bad omen quaking your soul itself, you nimbly snaked in and out through seats and followed Arthur’s steps. As was the case for your husband a few minutes ago, the dark corridor into which you rushed engulfed your ethereal silhouette like a hungry giant.

“Fuck.” Tommy mumbled, straightening on his seat and leaning forward, “Fuck.” He repeated, torn between his own doubts and his disdain for you. Nevertheless, if there was one thing he had learned since you joined the family was that your gut feelings were never wrong. You proved it several times, starting by foreseeing Charlie’s abduction. The dark-haired gangster sniffed and nervously rubbed his chin, his catlike eyes going back on forth between the corridor and the crowd. A few minutes later, Tommy finally left the fighting pit.

Something was definitely off.

Cautiously walking through the maze of dark hallways dimly lit by a bluish light, you tried to ignore the maddening beat of your heart that was drumming so loud you felt it hammering in your temples. You didn’t really know where you were heading, nor where Arthur went, but the more you moved forward, the more this unbearable feeling of dread and panic invaded you. Your aimless wandering came to an end when the strong and metallic smell of fresh blood and the atrocious sight that followed jumped at your face.

No.

Your heart nearly stopped when you saw him – your husband, slumped on the ground, blood soaking through the collar of his shirt as it gushed from the wound across his throat.

No!

Time seemed to slow down, and your heart seemed to stop as you took in the scene: the gun the Italian bastard was holding in his steady hand aimed at Arthur’s head.

Panic crashed over you like a tidal wave, washing away everything but the rage that had piled up within you during all these years. In that moment, something primal and destructive snapped inside of you. In a blur of rage and raw instinct, and with a guttural scream that seemed too inhumane to come from you, you launched yourself at the mafioso, who barely had the time to turn around. Another furious shriek escaped from your quivering lips, similar to the rabid screech of a wounded banshee, and with your fingers curled into claws, your sharp nails slashed across his face.  

“PUTTANA!” The man yelled and gasped, taken aback by your unleashed fury.

The mafioso fired with his gun in a desperate attempt to kill you but the brutal impact between your two bodies threw him off balance and the shot reached the wall instead of your brain. As his spine crashed against the tiled ground, Changretta’s henchman dropped the weapon. You gave it a brutal blow to make it slide away from him.

Another wave of insults followed as he realized that he struggled to overpower you. You were fighting like a cornered animal, wild and relentless. Your claws scratched him again and again, leaving raw and jagged lines of blood all over his face. The mafioso's strength was starting to falter as he realized that you weren’t just fighting to win; you were fighting to kill him, your body moved by the instinct of a bloodthirsty beast that refused to be caged.

"Stop it, you fucking bitch!" A scream of utter pain brutally tore the air as, completely out of your mind, you dug your thumbs into his skull, pushing harder and harder in an attempt to gouge his eyes. The Sicilian man produced a second sound so twisted that it seemed beyond anything a human throat could produce. The more you pushed with your thumbs, the more you felt his eyeball turning into a viscous pulp. The feeling of the moist and warm liquid on your fingers didn’t stop you. Nor the man’s wails of pure agony, with its pitch far too high and too broken.

“Ajùtami! Ajùtami!” He pleaded, his hands felt the ground in panic, searching for anything he could use to push you away from him. Anything to make you stop. Realizing that nothing was around him, not even the thread he used to attack Arthur, he managed to overcome the pain and gather his strength to grab your throat.

With your air squeezed, you wheezed and removed your fingers from his skull to claw his strong hands. “S-Stop!” Panic flooded you as your vision blurred, black spots dancing at the edges. The harder you fought, the harder he strangled you. Seriously lacking air, you clawed at his arms, desperate to breathe, but his grip was iron. Now you had to do something and do it quickly if you wanted to have a chance to save Arthur.

Your thoughts raced, frantic, until instinct took over.

I love your messy bun, Hev!

The judas stick – now you had a chance. With one quick movement, you brought your hand to your bun and your fingers fumbled for the sharp metal judas stick that was holding your hair in place. It came in handy. With a choked sound, you drove it upward and sunk the sharp edge of the stick into the man’s side.

One time.

Two times.

Three, four, five, six…

Side, chest, shoulder, face… 

Each impact was vicious and powerful, tearing through the flesh like butter and drilling into organs and bones with the sheer will of maiming your enemy. Hot blood splashed all over you and around, but you didn’t care. The only thing that made you stop stabbing him was when you felt the man’s grip loosen around your throat until his arms dropped on the red-smeared ground in a loud thud.

“Fuck!” You sucked in a sharp breath, your voice hoarse from being choked. However, you quickly got up from the corpse to run to your husband.  “Arthur!” You screamed, rushing to his side, your hands trembling as you knelt beside him – or rather as you dropped to your knees, your legs unable to support your weight anymore. Panic seized you even more violently as you saw Arthur's deep wound and the blood—too much blood.

“No, no, no… not like this,” You whispered, voice cracking. You couldn’t lose him, not here, not now. Never. Your fingers brushed over his chest and, in your deepest desperation, you looked for his pulse. A pulse you found, but which was becoming slower and fainter as seconds flew by. “Arthur! Please!” You started sobbing, tears streaming down your face and mixing with the fresh blood that was painting your skin in a disgusting shade of red. You had to face the truth: Arthur was dying. The damages were too serious and the bleeding too much… But you were a witch. The gift of healing was coursing through your veins. The only problem was that if you tried to save him by using your magic, you’d hurt the baby. After all, that was what happened when you tried to kill Luca Changretta with a heart attack.

The baby.

Your husband or the baby?

Your heart painfully raced in your chest. Your erratic breathing and your sore throat made you feel like you weren’t getting enough air.

 “I’d love to have kids with ye, eh. Little white-haired and blue-eyed us running barefoot in the forest… Little embodiments of our love brightening our life.” His voice was merely a whisper now for he was slowly falling asleep, “I’ve always wanted to be a dad… but thought I was too messed up for that.”

You could save him. You had to. Despite this torture of a dilemma and the harshness of the decision, nothing could change your mind, not even the feeling of your heart shattering into millions of shards. Closing your eyes, you placed one hand over his throat, the blood warm under your palm, and the other on his chest. Wasting no time, you channel all your strength – the connection sparked, and the raw, untamed magic you inherited from your mother surged through you. It seemed to work at first, his pulse lightly responding to yours.

But the more the magic surged, the more you felt a terrible pain in your belly. It started as cramps but quickly escalated into suffering so high that you felt like someone was stabbing you. A trembling squeal escaped from your red lips. You were killing it, you knew it. You were killing your own baby.

"Come on, come on," You muttered, pushing harder, forcing your will into his body. "Stay with me, Arthur," You whispered, tears streaking down your face, each sentence cut by muffled cries of the mafioso you had slaughtered and who was still alive— not for too long to be honest. He seemed to say something in Sicilian but you couldn't understand what. And you didn't care. "Just... stay with me." You gritted your teeth, doing your best to put up with the pain.

Click.

You froze.

“You nosey little slut. You should've stayed with the others.” 

Your heart missed a leap at the unknown male voice, carried by a thick Italian accent. The mafioso’s colleague looked at you, gun pointed right to your head.

"Remember me?" He asked with a wicked smile, recalling the moment he had offered you a cigarette a few hours ago. During your brief chit-chat, he told you that his name was Damiano but you didn't make the connection between Changretta and his Italian heritage.

“Don't cry, you're going to meet with your husband again very soon." the imposing man added, a few seconds away from ending your life. However, Damiano didn't know what you were capable of. Even less now that you were driven by pure rage and despair.

“Shut the fuck up!” You suddenly yelled, your claws firmly anchored in your husband to make Damiano understand that no one would snatch him from your arms. Your voice, a seductive melody that could enchant like a siren’s song, suddenly sounded monstrous. Raw and primal, the way you screamed the threat echoed in the entire maze of hallways and made Tommy’s blood freeze in his veins, a few corridors away. “Fucking die!”

Damiano didn't know that he never stood a chance. You sealed that man's demise with one blunt arm movement as if you had wanted to chase a mosquito from your face.  

"Wh-What..."

Damiano, fell on his knees next to his dying friend, and writhed on the floor. With his two hands pressing on his chest, he suddenly started to choke and, right after, threw up a great amount of thick blood. Apart from the vomiting, blood soon seeped from his eyes and ears, bubbling like something inside was boiling them alive.

"P-Please!" He begged but you didn't stop. The man obviously tried to scream but the only sound he could produce was disgusting gurgles.

"Don't worry, you're going to meet your friend pretty soon." You replied with a cold and sardonic tone before closing your fist, the man's lungs responding to your gesture by imploding in his chest. Like his colleague's arms did a few minutes ago, Damiano's whole body crashed against the floor with a thud.

Quickly, you shifted back your attention to your husband and kept giving him all your energy while ignoring the black dots that were dancing in front of your eyes, as well as the awful, unbearable stabbing sensation in your core. You were definitely hurting yourself by using your power that much but you didn't give a fuck. “Arthur, please.” You growled, a feeling of dizziness building up so bad that you didn’t even hear the hurried footsteps that were coming closer, nor the hoarse, familiar voice of your brother-in-law.

"FUCK!" You exclaimed. You were losing Arthur again.

The three bodies lay strewn like discarded puppets, their lifeless forms twisted and broken on the blood-flown concrete floor. The once clean backroom had transformed into a nightmare realm of gore and horror that made Tommy's stomach turn upside-down.

The Peaky Blinder's boss took two steps back and brought his calloused hand to his mouth, fighting against the urge to puke – and God knew it took him a lot considering the atrocities he witnessed and did during the war. His turquoise gaze scanned the room, which had turned into a slaughterhouse. A fucking pool of crimson blood. First, he saw the limp and distorted corpse of Damiano, whose eyes were open wide in horror despite him being dead and cold. The terror in his frozen facial expression left no doubt about how awful his last moments must have been: he had suffered, and he had suffered more than a lot. Then, he caught a quick glimpse of the second victim. With his eyeballs reduced to a reddish foul mush, the lacerations on his face, and the abnormal number of stabbing wounds, the mafioso’s body was so maimed that it looked disgustingly grotesque.

Then he saw Arthur.

"Oh my God. Oh my fucking God — Arthur!"

Amidst the chaos, where the air hung heavy with the acrid and pungent scent of blood, Tommy's screams echoed far away in the distance as you knelt there, eyes wide open and silent tears streaming down your cheeks, mixed with dark trails of ruined mascara.

Tommy reacted immediately and knelt near his brother with a panic so uncontrollable that it swept away every ounce of coldness and self-control he usually displayed. He slapped his brother's cheeks several times in a vain attempt to help him come back to a conscious state but it didn't work. Thomas Shelby's fist hit the floor with frustration as the feeling of powerlessness crept into his heart. He was losing another brother and there was nothing he could do to save him.

But you could.

"Heaven, d'ya hear me?"

You let out a muffled whimper, or at least you thought you did as your senses saturated with one unique sound: a relentless ringing that echoed in the hollow caverns of your mind. With each pulse of your heart, the sound intensified, threatening to consume the last remnant of sanity you had left. The world around you had seemed to fade into obscurity, your sight blurry and reduced to only one color: red. Vibrant red splattered everywhere, on the walls, and yourself but most of it was on the floor. In fact, the ground itself seemed to writhe beneath the weight of the corpses, as crimson rivers flowed freely, painting the concrete in shades of crimson that gleamed like freshly spilled paint.

“Oi! Listen to me!” Tommy’s powerful voice suddenly snatched you from your daze just enough time to catch your attention and plunge his turquoise iris into your Arctic eyes.

“I—I can’t. I can’t, I can’t...” You repeated in a whisper, just like a broken record, because your husband’s pulse was weakening again, blind to your exhausting and painful efforts. Arthur was dying, your baby was dying and the intensity of the pain you went through was so insufferable that all you wanted to do was curl up in a ball and wait for death to make this nightmare stop.

Tommy rapidly shifted his body to be by your side, his sharp eyes focused, but softer than usual. “You’ve got this,” he whispered, meeting your panicked gaze. “Keep going. Don’t stop.” He pressed his hand firmly over yours, steadying the trembling fingers that worked to save his brother. His voice was low, gravelly, but laced with a quiet strength he tried to share with you. His grip was warm, grounding you in the chaos, his presence like an anchor. At that moment, the weight of the world felt momentarily lighter with him by your side. You replied to his help with a muffled sob.

"You've got this!" Tommy tried to keep you from falling apart but the sight of a thin trickle of blood slowly running down your nose worried him almost to death. He looked at you and he knew. He knew that you had given everything – every ounce of your energy to save his brother, your magic now drained. Your hand trembled, still pressed to Arthur’s chest, but the world around you was seriously fading to black.

Caught amid this Hell with Tommy by your side, you didn't hear nor feel Polly, who had found the crime scene.

"Oh lord please help us, oh Lord, oh Lord..." Polly cried, horrified by the bloodbath as well as by the sight of you clinging to Arthur's limp body. She had already lost one of her nephews and couldn't bear the weight of losing another one. Not her sweet Arthur. Not him,

"We're fucking losing her too!" Tommy exclaimed, "fucking help me!"

"Heaven!" She called, grabbing your shoulder and shaking you but all you did was scream one last time. A haunting and otherworldly wail that pierced the darkness. A sound so agonizing and inhumane that it seemed to tear at the very fabric of existence. It echoed across the building, carrying with it the weight indescribable of sorrow and despair as your arms tightened your grip around your dying husband.

The smell of blood hid Tommy's musky perfume that was tingling your nostrils. The deafening ringing in your ears covered Polly and her nephew's voice. Your breaths came shallow and weak, your body becoming heavier as darkness crept in. Slowly, your eyes fluttered shut. In one final movement, you collapsed beside your husband, your last thought a silent hope that he would live.

Or that you would at least die trying to save him.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language. gif by the wonderful @alicent-targaryen.

✞ Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @cherubswhispers @lokigirlszendaya @justrainandcoffee @mischievouslittlecreature

[marvelmusing]

Dark Depths

Part Two

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Fem!Reader (mermaid au)

Summary: After growing somewhat accustomed to your new life under the sea with Aleksander, the time to hunt the stag for your coat arrives, meaning you must make your return to land.

Warnings [18+]: smut, oral (fem receiving), mermaid to human transformation, mentions of injury and blood, Aleksander keeps the reader in the dark about a lot of things, unestablished dom/sub dynamic, some angsty vibes

My Masterlist • Part One

It doesn’t take long for Aleksander to find you, sitting in your usual spot on a rocky crag not far from the shore. The tail Aleksander had given you is a dull gold colour, the kind that changes depending on the lighting. Under the sea it shimmers like a treasure chest stuffed to the brim, but as you sit perched above the waterline your scales look muddy in the cold daylight.

Ever since you were a small child you’ve longed for the sea, and now your heart belongs to Aleksander, to the open ocean and all its wondrous creatures. But being born on land means that a fracture of your soul lingers there, a dull ache in your chest that refuses to be rid of so easily by Aleksander’s magic.

He settles beside you smoothly, wrapping his arms around your waist to console you. He kisses the salt streams on your cheeks, brushing his nose against your face affectionately.

“I know it hurts,” he murmurs.

A sob catches in your chest and you shake your head. There is no way he can know how deep your pain runs. Desperate for something to alleviate the discomfort, you begin to itch over your collarbones.

Aleksander curls his fingers around your wrist, halting your self-destructive actions. Unused to having such sharp nails, you hadn’t realised the scratches you had been leaving over your skin. He places his hand over your chest, smoothing soothingly over the irritated skin there.

“When I was born, Grisha lived on land,” he admits quietly.

Tears glistening in your eyes, you turn to face him.

“Like me?”

He nods slowly.

“My mother was an incredibly powerful witch with impossibly high standards for her children. In the time I spent with her, she abandoned five children.” He pauses, staring out towards the shore with a sombre expression. “I remember each of them.”

There’s a despondent glimmer in his dark eyes and you reach for his hand. He glances back at you, offering a brief smile that fades all too quickly.

“When I didn’t live up to her expectations, she cast me aside as well.”

“How old were you?”

He swallows hard.

“Thirteen.”

“Aleksander,” you whisper softly, squeezing his hand.

“I went searching for my sister after that.”

“Your sister?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard the stories of the sea witch that lives further north.” You nod. “Ulla took me in for a little while. She helped me with my tail.”

Considering this new information, you begin to fidget with the crystal on your necklace.

“The other Grisha call you a witch.”

He laughs softly.

“They do.”

“Why?”

“Grisha use their power through song. Their voices manipulate their specific sphere of power - whether that be fire or metal or blood. Those who don’t rely wholly on their song are considered witches.”

Aleksander has used his magic around you on several occasions. A simple flick of his fingers can summon tendrils of shadows - something he seems to do unknowingly when he’s lost in thought. Alina had sung to you when the two of you were children, making the sunlight dance with her enchanting melody.

“I’ve never heard you sing.”

Aleksander is quiet for a moment, his gaze lowered to the rock beneath you.

“Most Grisha sing in pairs with someone whose power complements their own. Harmony is important to us.”

“Complements?”

He nods slowly, leaving you guessing at what he means. Light would complement darkness; but you’ve only ever known one sun summoner - Alina. But surely he could have taken her for himself when she had made a deal with him for human legs. Instead, he had used her power to give you a tail with seemingly no benefits for himself.

The expression on your face must appear pained due to your confusion, as Aleksander kisses your forehead, tucking your head against his chest.

“It will get easier, once you have your coat. I promise.”

At the mention of your coat, you perk up a little.

“When will we start looking for the stag?”

“Soon.”

“But when is soon?”

He breathes out a small laugh at your enthusiasm.

“When the first flakes of snow fall over the land.” You nod. Aleksander’s touch is delicate as he strokes your cheek, keeping your attention on him instead of the shoreline. “How are you feeling today?” he asks softly.

A small crease appears between your brows.

“Better. My tail doesn’t hurt anymore. But…” Heat blossoms over your cheeks as you trace your fingers over your abdomen. “There’s a strange ache here.”

He hums absently.

“Swimming in your ocean form will require your muscles to stretch in an unfamiliar manner. You will grow accustomed to it.”

Unconvinced by his explanation, you bite down on your lower lip, dragging it between your teeth. There are plenty of other places on your body that feel sensitive as of late.

“Are there muscles here as well?” you ask shyly, gesturing to your chest.

Aleksander’s gaze sharpens, examining you intently.

“May I take a look?”

Nervously, you glance around at the open sea and the nearby shoreline, searching for anyone who could see you in such an exposing position.

“Here?”

“No one can see us.”

Hesitantly, you reach for the coarse piece of string holding the fabric together over your chest. Aleksander had fashioned it for you, though he had also explained that most merfolk only wear jewellery and their coats. Aleksander himself always wears a belt, with his pouch and knife attached to his hip and a small scrap of cloth covering a portion of his pelvis.

The fabric covering your top half is still damp from your time in the sea and it clings to your body. Aleksander removes it slowly, revealing your bare body to him. Instantly, your nipples harden from the cold, salty air. As always, his hands are warm and you shudder when he cups your tender breasts.

He gives you a gentle squeeze, drawing a weak sound from the back of your throat. He then begins to roll your nipples between the pads of his fingertips, alleviating some of the pressure beneath your skin. A soft moan escapes your lips and your eyes flutter closed momentarily.

Aleksander glances down, a smirk tugging at his lips. When you follow his gaze, you find your lap glossy with a thick wetness, though you struggle to find where it has come from.

“There is nothing you need to worry about,” he assures you. “Merfolk reach maturity at around your current human age; your body is simply preparing for your mate.”

There’s a haze clouding over your mind, his words wading through fog and your thoughts scramble for comprehension. Slowly, you blink at him, staring at the lean muscle of his stomach and tail, the thick hair over his jawline, his pink nipples, and strong hands. He’s so beautiful, it makes you ache.

“How do merfolk mate?” you manage to ask him.

He smiles widely, cradling your face between his hands and for a moment you think he’s going to drag you back down to his cave and show you. Instead, he kisses your forehead gently.

“Not yet, darling. I’ll show you, in time.”

»»---------------------►

When the snow begins to fall on land, Aleksander instructs you to wait in the shallows for him. Nervously, you bob your head above the waterline, eyes scouring over the shore for any sight of him. Being parted from him makes you uneasy. It isn’t long before you see a strong black horse galloping over the sand with Aleksander sat astride.

He looks like a king. The thick black fur of his coat is piled up over his shoulders, the adjoined cloak billowing behind him in the wind. He’s attained human clothes: polished black riding boots, dark trousers, and a fine woollen jacket. The image of him makes your stomach flip and you swim closer to the shore, eager to join him.

Aleksander dismounts smoothly, striding towards the water as you flail with your tail, struggling to change into your human form as quickly as you’ve seen him do it. He wades into the shallows, scattering sea spray as he scoops you up easily and carries you out onto the sand. He kisses your temple as he lowers you to the ground.

“I’m going to take your necklace,” he tells you.

Instantly, your hand closes protectively around the gem hanging between your breasts, clutching it tightly.

“Why?”

“The power in the crystal is what gave you your tail. While wearing it, you won’t be able to change back into your human form.”

Aleksander had given you this necklace when you were still human. The power inside had belonged to your childhood friend Alina, traded to Aleksander so that she could become human. It feels wrong to give it up, even temporarily. He notices your hesitation, curling his fingers gently around your wrist.

“I’ll take good care of it. I promise.”

When you nod, he unclasps the back of the chain, removing it from around your neck. He places it on himself, the shimmering yellow gem nestling perfectly at the hollow of his throat. Aleksander watches you intently and you frown, eyes wide with confusion as you search his expression for any clue on what is supposed to happen.

Then it happens.

It feels as if someone has sliced through your tail, carving a sharp blade deep into the muscle and bone that are now shifting back into legs that you can’t bear to look at. The sight of them, thighs and calves and toes, so sickeningly human, makes you cry against Aleksander. You don’t want them. You want your tail back. Hot tears spill down your cheeks, the salty droplets a poor imitation of the sea that is now your home. It hurts.

Aleksander’s voice is a near whisper, but it somehow manages to cut through your anguish.

“Let’s clean you up a little.”

The wounds have closed, but the blood remains sticky on your legs. As Aleksander moves you over to the water, the sand grates against your sensitive skin. Everything is too much all at once. The muscles in your legs twitch painfully, protesting against their existence. A weak sob shakes your body as Aleksander scoops up a handful of water, pouring it carefully over your legs to clear away the blood.

“Just focus on one thing at a time,” he suggests in a low murmur. “The water’s cold, isn’t it?” A small hum of agreement catches in the back of your throat, as you bury your face further into his chest. “How does the sand feel?”

“Itchy,” you mumble petulantly.

He breathes out a soft laugh.

“And how do I feel?”

“Warm. Safe.”

He kisses the crown of your head.

“I’ll always keep you safe, my little starfish.”

That draws a weak laugh from you.

“Starfish?”

He hums in agreement, offering you a small smile.

“A delicate little thing, but very hard to break.”

Emotion sticks in your throat at the sincerity of his words.

Walking is awful. Each step feels like a knife is piercing through the sole of your foot. Every breath is accompanied by a sob. Aleksander keeps his arm around your waist, holding you tightly beside him as your teeth chatter. When your tears turn pitiful, he hooks his arm beneath your knees, opting to carry you to his horse.

“It will get better,” he assures you, pressing a faint kiss to your hairline before he lifts you up into the saddle.

»»---------------------►

Aleksander wakes before you, slipping out of the small bedroom he had rented at a local tavern. He returns with a tray full of breakfast, rousing you from your slumber as he removes his boots.

He slips his arm around your waist, draping his body over yours as he pulls your back against his chest. His palms are warm and firm as they run over your bare body. He leaves a trail of slow, lingering kisses along the length of your neck before murmuring against your ear,

“The men downstairs are whispering. They think the mysterious traveller has caught himself a mermaid.”

“They aren’t wrong,” you mumble into your pillow.

Aleksander smiles against your skin.

“But you weren’t a mermaid when I caught you, were you?”

Unable to fight your smile, you squeeze your pillow, nestling yourself further under the sheets.

“No.”

His smile widens. There’s a pause as the two of you soak up this moment, soft sunlight filtering its way through the thin curtains as you stretch lightly, reaching for your pillow and tucking it against your chest. Aleksander presses a tender kiss to the space between your shoulder blades.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

His question brings your attention back to your body, the aches and pains and the terrible sense of loss that hums inside you.

“Like someone’s hollowed out my heart.”

He kisses your temple softly, sliding his hand beneath you to place his hand over your chest.

“Your heart is right here. Even I can’t take that from you.”

Aleksander gives your body one final affectionate squeeze, before he sits up.

“I think you could,” you whisper.

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he reaches for the tray of food, breaking up a crust of bread to feed to you in small portions. The action makes your stomach flip, reminding you of your first few days under the sea, when Aleksander had fed you by hand because you were too weak to do it yourself.

Settling yourself back against the rickety headboard, you bunch up the covers, drawing them up to your chest to shield yourself from the morning chill. Aleksander holds a piece of bread up to your lips, ignoring the heat burning over your face.

“I can feed myself,” you protest quietly. The words come out softer than you intended, weakened mostly by the indulgent smile quirking at the corner of his lips.

“It’s my duty to provide for you.” He pinches your chin lightly between his fingers, a darkness glimmering in his eyes. “Humour me.”

When you take the bread into your mouth, his smile widens and your body is molten hot, your breathing deep and heavy as he looks at you, gaze unwavering. He feeds you the entire slice, piece by piece, praising you the entire time.

Once you’ve finished, he brushes his knuckles over your cheek, thumb smoothing over your cheekbone.

“You seem warm, milaya.”

He tugs the covers back, revealing your naked body to him. Instantly, you clasp your legs together tightly and he chuckles.

“Shall we check that the change was successful?” he asks, mischief dancing in his eyes as he curls his fingers around one ankle. With the attention of the room being brought onto your legs, embarrassment crawls over your skin.

“Don’t,” you say quickly, before adding in a small whimper, “Please.”

Aleksander stares up at you, his dark eyes flickering over every inch of your expression and you feel frightfully vulnerable, as if he can see every thought rushing through your mind. He pushes at your ankle slowly, bending your limb so that your foot is placed flat on the bed.

“I know you don’t think much of your human form,” he says in a low voice. “But tail or legs, you are beautiful.” He presses the barest hint of a kiss to your calf and you shudder. “Can I show you?”

He continues his kisses, mapping a path slowly upwards from your ankle. Breathlessly, you squirm beneath him.

“It isn’t mating season yet,” you state.

He grins.

“No it isn’t. But that doesn’t mean I can’t kiss every inch of your body, does it?”

His lips are warm and firm as he kisses over your calves, parting your legs with ease. His fingers rub soothing circles over your tense muscles, doing everything he can to alleviate the aches and pains that linger after your transformation. Emotion catches in your throat, tears gathering in your eyes as his mouth reaches your knees.

“Aleksander,” you cry. “Please.”

The rough scrape of his beard is delightful against the soft skin of your thighs and you whine as he spreads your legs even further apart. His teeth drag lightly over the flesh of your inner thigh in a playful bite and you tip your head backwards against the headboard.

He hums quietly. His nose brushes against your mound and you whimper. He tilts his head, clicking his tongue at the sight of the mess between your thighs. A jolt of pleasure jitters down your spine. Arching your back away from the mattress, you throw one hand back to gasp at the headboard. The other hand sinks into Aleksander’s dark locks, fisting the hair tightly as you cling to him.

He glances up at you, his lips parted, and you feel as though you might come undone just by looking at him, imagining his lips against your cunt. His gaze is deliberate as it moves down your body, so weighty you can almost feel it over your skin like a caress. When his eyes lock onto your cunt, you squirm lightly, heat burning across your cheeks in an inferno.

“May I kiss you here?” he asks in a whisper.

You nod fervently and he grins darkly.

“Come now, little starfish. I would like a proper answer.”

“Yes, please. Please kiss me there.”

His lips are so gentle, the barest hint of a kiss as his mouth brushes against the soaked folds of your cunt. A breathy whimper escapes you as the tip of his tongue parts your folds, revealing your weeping cunt to him fully.

Neither one of you want to break this moment, barely able to raise your voices to anything above a low whisper.

“Aleksander,” you say, voice cracking.

“Both hands on the headboard,” he orders in a murmur.

Just the action of obeying him, settling both of your hands on the headboard above you, bearing your body to him in total submission, has you teetering on the edge of what you think might be your climax. It’s been so long since you’ve touched yourself - even longer since someone else has touched you - the idea of an orgasm feels elusive. Yet something violently pleasurable is creeping its way closer.

The motion of his tongue is addictive, a dizzying circle that traces around your sensitive clit. The little bud is swollen and throbbing, every pulse makes you more and more desperate for him.

A tear slips down your cheek as you say his name. His tongue strokes leisurely against your cunt, lapping up the arousal that has gathered from teasing your clit. The moan that rumbles in the back of his throat makes you quiver. It’s mortifying, being so affected by the sound of him.

“I’m close,” you admit.

A weak sob of pleasure and shame threatens to choke you at the thought of being so wanton. Aleksander places his palm over your stomach, a warm and comforting pressure that soaks into your skin even as he pins you down. His tongue licks over your cunt for several beats before he lifts his head from between your thighs. Arousal glosses over his lips and you clench around nothing, breathless at the sight.

“Relax, darling.” He slips his hands beneath you, kneading your ass cheeks purposefully. A sharp groan is dragged out of you as he grasps at the tender flesh. “You’ve been holding all of this inside you for far too long. Now it’s time to let go.”

There’s a roaring in your ears, drowning out every sensation that isn’t the clenching of your cunt as Aleksander suckles greedily on your sensitive clit, his bottom lip grazing against your quivering entrance. The rush of your release smears over his mouth and chin, making a thorough mess of him. Pleasure has stars sparkling over your vision, your limbs tingling with a heady bliss.

Time slips away from you, passing by unnoticed with each heavy breath you take. The world is small, narrowed down to the satisfied weight of your limbs against the mattress. It takes you quite some time to realise you’ve been staring up at the ceiling.

Shakily, you turn onto your side, wide eyes searching frantically for Aleksander. Once you find him beside you, dark eyes warm and safe, the tension in your chest snaps and you burst into tears. Instantly, he pulls you onto him, allowing you to cry against his bare chest.

“It’s alright, darling,” he assures you in a low voice. The sound vibrates in his chest, buzzing against your ear. “I’m so proud of you; you did so well.” He strokes his fingers along your spine, drawing shapes on his way down. “You’ve been such a good girl for me. My brave little starfish.”

He kisses your forehead, nuzzling his nose affectionately against your hairline as his words warm in your chest.

“You should find walking a lot easier now.”

You blink at him, a tear slipping down your cheek as you start to realise something that makes your heart twist.

“Is that why we did this… to make it easier for me to walk?”

He takes a hold of your chin firmly, keeping your eyes locked on his.

“We did this because you are mine, and I refuse to condone you feeling bad about any part of yourself.”

Unable to stop yourself, you climb up his body, straddling his waist as you press your lips against his. He responds instantly, cupping your face with both hands to deepen the kiss. As you grip onto his hair, Aleksander leans forwards to meet you, lowering his hands to squeeze at your calves.

This time, there’s no sense of unease as he touches your legs and you smile into the kiss as his hands wander up your thighs to grasp at your waist, pulling you flush against him. Aleksander smiles as well, tracing his touches up your body.

“We should be heading on our way.” A pout puckers at your lips and he chuckles. “The sooner we find the stag, the sooner we can go home.”

Home with Aleksander. That makes you smile.

»»---------------------►

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire

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Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224 @seronsalk

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters @idohknow

[fallbhind]

"HOW DO I LOVE A VAMPIRE?"

synopsis : after walking in on you sucking on a blood bag, from possibly a live vessel somewhere, dean tied you to a chair possibly going to harm you, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do so to you.

➤ warnings .ᐣ vampire!reader. fem!reader. angsty. tw blood &&. slight sh. beta read﹔@starkeysprincess. wc﹔1.4k

IT WAS the worst thing dean could've found out. his 'true love' being a vampire, after all he's done for you, he gave a home, well— multiple homes. but it wasn't the point when he had twenty other thoughts running through his head. he could be an ass, really. (but he still kinda loved you, in a way). dean was clearly stressing. you could tell, somewhat.

he hissed gruffly through his teeth, "think you could keep your secret forever, huh— vampy?" self consciously, he tightened the metal like chains, you couldn't really tell in what it was, considering the darkened room, with just the slightest light threatening to poke out, your eyes had already dilated towards the light, which was probably why you weren't nearly as focused on what held you bound to the wooden chair.

you let out a muffled noise, due to the hand towel that had you gagged. "poor thing, havin' trouble?" dean said lowly, "to bad." he tapped your forehead roughly as sweat beads began to form. not only from the heat, but from the irking feeling growing at the bottom of your stomach.

highly doubting you'd make it out alive, especially with how off edge dean had gotten.

"nervous? should be—" he tugged down towel, squeezing your cheeks together in a taunting gesture, little miss vampy without any power, while dean quite literally held your life in his hand. he delivered a gentle love (far from love) tap, on your cheek.

he was oh so cruel to the women he once loved. he pulled your mouth open, using his thumb to press onto your upper gum, feeling the traces of your sharper teeth. he knew how to handle vampires, but he felt more hatred towards you. and it was understandable, he thought he found 'the one' only for 'the one' to be a vampire. guess his supernatural senses weren't tingly enough.

dean knew john was practically rolling in his grave for being such a moron, a naïve little moron who chose love instead of what his actual life involved around, hurting and killing the supernatural.

and not to mention, he trusted you around his brother— the one he was supposed to watch! to protect. and yet he was so stupid, he allowed a wretched monster into his life. you let out a beastly cry, the sharp teeth working their way out as dean's thumb pressed harder on them.

"let me—" you growled under your breath, "—explain!" the sharper teeth gradually over came your normal teeth, by that time, dean had already pulled his thumb out your mouth.

"explain?" he chuckled sarcastically, "explain what?" dean tapped your forehead, "i know you ain't that stupid, you can't dig your way out of this grave."

his hand made it's way towards your throat, "c'mere little bitch." he growled, squeezing your throat your mouth wide open as your source of air was cut off. your face strained, eyebrows furrowed in pain. when he finally decided to release you, you went straight back into your chair, teeth barred at him.

the saliva steadily increasing your mouth, "m'sorry—" you managed out, struggling against the restraints that held you captive to the chair, your back muscles straining. dean paced in circles around you, his brain running twenty thousand miles, the last thing he need to hear was your pathetic-babbled apologies.

dean went over to his hunting bag, "shut up." he hissed at you, "i'll kill you with some dead persons blood." he growled, pulling out the little baggy, filled with what was to be assumed, dead man's blood. you pulled back pathetically in your chair, shaking your head as you babbled over sorry-panicked apologies.

you closed your mouth, bottom lip visibly trembling, even in the dark room. the room was humidified, making you feel icky.

dean walked out of your eye sight, coming back with a knife in hand, appearing behind you. his arms loosely wrapped around you as he dug the knife into his skin, pulling away as you cried out as the blood prickled from the straight line, "stop!" you cried out again, not wanting dean to hurt himself to prove a point.

"bite me—" he hissed, forcing his arm onto your mouth, "c'mon!" he smeared the blood across your mouth. he shoved your head roughly against the bleeding cut, the knife clattering onto the floor.

you let out a soft whimper, lifting your chin up towards his face, eyes squeezed shut, tightly. "please m'sorry dean." you pleaded pathetically, tears threatening to form, your bottom lip trembling even more than before. causing him to take a slight pause, "don't hurt yourself—" another soft spoken pathetic whimper falling from your lips, that were cracking as you used your saliva to moisten your lips.

it was possibly the biggest pause he had when coming to killing a monster, pulling his arm away from you. "son of a bitch—" he hissed roughly through his teeth, giving a final shove to the chair before backing away. his gray sweaty, dirty shirt pulled taut against his chest, his button up flimsy long sleeves rolled up.

dean went back to steadily pacing just knowing john was definitely rolling in his grave, shaming dean. for not being able to harm a supernatural. he knew what was right, to kill you. but apart of him just wanted to forget he ever walked in on you feeding from your little baggy of blood, teeth buried into the bag. to just hold you tight at night, like usual.

if he spent his whole life hunting supernatural, killing them with no mercy, what was the difference? sure— it was hard because he still kinda loved you, but your a monster. you don't deserve to— to well, live. you should've never gotten that right to learn to crawl, walk, run, talk, even breath, is what he was taught.

his fingers traced the cold metal that you tugged on. dean couldn't let you live. but at the same time— you never bit him or sam, so maybe it would be safe, but it wouldn't be fair to those you torture, who beg and scream for mercy, no nono. but yet again—

god, he could really just— strangle you. dean let out a soft noise of frustration, just glaring at you.

it was your fault he was in this position, he really needed castiel (that stupid angel)— maybe even sam, for guidance. you broke that train of thought when you let out a soft whimper, the metal chains rubbing up against your wrist, making them slowly bruise from the constant force and friction being forced onto them.

"baby—" you babbled pathetically, "m'sorry— i-"

he huffed in a tone of annoyance, "sure, real sorry ain'tcha?" he mumbled aggressively, taking his thumb and index to squeeze your cheeks, causing them to unwillingly pucker.

he tapped tapped tapped your cheek, finding himself in a complete roadblock with his situation. he could really go for an apple pie. or any pie at the moment, really.

with a pout of his own, he kept squeezing your cheeks, "i don't know why you're doin' this to me, sweethang." he ran his fingers through his hair, to destress what feelings had built up. dean watched your leg jostle up and down, knowing you where waiting for the anticipation of what he was going to do to you. wether it was pure anxiety or excitement was in question.

vampires are peculiar creatures. really. but if he can't hurt you, what kind of person does that make him? a bad hunter, but a good boyfriend(ish). dean drawled in a soft breath as he worked his way to untangle the chains. the metal clanked on the ground, "m'sorry." he whispered. "i don't ever wanna see you again." he took a pause, "if i happen to see you, you're dead. alright, now.. go."

"but—" you stumbled over your words, "i won't—" your hands going up to cup his face. you brought his face towards you, letting out a pathetic babble, "please don't make me leave."

in the panicked state, you leaned into him, slightly (almost like old times). dean looked down at you, face filled with digust, "leave." he hissed gently.

you shook your head no, like he had given you an option to stay, you stayed still as dean solemnly had the digust look on his face, watching you frown, the digust slowly faded to solemn. "fine— but only for a little bit." he wrapped his arms around your neck, pulling you into his chest, taking in a long breath of air.

TAGS .ᐟ @mattsdolll. @sematarygirls. @beausling. @archiveofvirtue.

[itsbeeble]

PRINCESS AND THE PAUPER (pt 1)

SUMMARY: It wasn’t like you and Kevin hated each other. In fact, you quite admired him despite his somewhat indifferent attitude toward you. Well, now that you’re paired up for the last dance of the year, you guess it’s the perfect time to find out why.

GENRE: smut, very little fluff, a lot of angst

PAIRING: Kevin Moon x afab!reader

WC: 4.3k

SERIES MASTERLIST PART 2

PERM TAGLIST: @juyeonszn @winterchimez @flwoie

18+ MDNI AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

WARNINGS: insults (nonsexual), mentions of injuries, mentions of what is basically sabotage, kevin is actually really kind of a bad person to y/n yall im sorry, kevin is still stupid (keeping with the trends), kevin is emotionally constipated but so is y/n but she's less emotionally constipated, pining, enemies to lovers, making out, marking, hair pulling, scratching, dry humping, poor attempts at humor, guys i'm actually warning you kevin is a total asshole in this

A/N: Idk why i went the angsty route for this but i'm very very excited to be releasing the final installment of this series. this was supposed to be released on christmas but me and fawn did not give ourselves NEARLY enough time to actually prepare this so we had to push it off. Much love, kiss kiss. Anyway thank you to everyone for reading this collab. This is part 1 of the final installment, so please be on the lookout for part 2 on fawn's page!!

You couldn’t have been more excited to be partnered with Kevin Moon for the end-of-year exhibition. He was kind, he was incredibly talented, he was funny, he—

“You have to be fucking joking.”

— hated your goddamn guts.

You weren’t even sure why. One day the two of you had been just a couple of freshmen, excited to become the best versions of yourselves, and the next…it was like Kevin suddenly decided that he just hated everything about you. He did everything from mocking your solo performances to outright screaming at you for the tiniest of mistakes that not even your professors had picked up on. Your foot was a centimeter too far to the left, your back was arched too much, or your arm looked flimsy. Anything that he could possibly berate you for, he found it. 

“Language, Moon.” Your professor scolded, hovering beside you and gauging both of your reactions. Your thumbnail is wedged between your teeth, and your free hand is wrapped around your waist. Kevin is fuming across from you, staring at the paper with such intensity you fear that it would catch fire. 

“Professor, you can’t possibly expect me to work with her!” Kevin flings his hand out in your direction, and you scoff. 

“You make it sound like this is my fault.” 

“Isn’t it?” He raises an eyebrow, lips curling up into a nasty sneer. “Most things usually are.”

“Oh really?” You drop your hands to your side, taking a small step toward him. 

“Yes!” 

“Like what?” 

You’re inches away from each other now, a palpable tension between the two of you that had your professor shuffling back uncomfortably. A few lingering students glanced at the two of you, whispering amongst each other. 

Do you think they really hate each other?

I think that they’re doing this just for show, just like Sangyeon and his girlfriend.

Maybe they really do hate each other…or, at least, one of them does.

“Like the class performance of Princess and the Pauper last year.” Kevin grins smugly, as if he’d won some sort of competition between the two of you. There’s a flash of anger and hurt in your eyes.

“Let’s not remember that you were the one who dropped me, Kevin.” The smugness dissipates and now your “opponent” is standing uncomfortably before you. 

“I— I know that, but—” You cut him off abruptly, and there are a few tears brimming in your eyes. 

“You know damn fucking well that the performance would’ve been fine had you not intentionally let me fall. It’s your fault that happened, not mine.”

“Y/N,” your professor warns. “Let’s calm down, shall we?” 

Her hand on your shoulder steels you, and your body relaxes. 

“The two of you,” she speaks slowly and calmly but there’s cold authority in her tone, “are going to work together on this performance, and you are going to work nicely. I will not be tolerating arguments this time. If you two cannot prove to me that you can work together as a team then I will fail you, and I will recommend you both be removed from the program. Am I understood?”

You bite on your tongue, eyeing Kevin and waiting for him to respond first. His words dug deep into you. It was easy for you to take the blame for mistakes you made, for starting on the wrong beat. But for him to blame you for his mistake? That was going too far. That was crossing a line that no dancer should ever cross (i know nothing about dancing). 

“Understood,” Kevin mutters after a moment, and you nod your head slowly. 

“Understood.”

“I think we should do Angel by Keshi.”

“And I think that’s the dumbest fucking idea I’ve ever heard.”

Your eyes widen when Kevin says that with his back flat on the ground of the practice room you’d rented. He’s got a stress ball in his hand, throwing it toward the ceiling and waiting for it to fall back down into his hand. For at least an hour, it had been, essentially, a one-sided discussion with you throwing out ideas and Kevin ignoring you as best he could until you threatened to tell the professor he wasn’t being cooperative. He’d proceeded to call you a “stupid snitch” before responding to each suggestion you threw out with something negative.

“If it’s so dumb then how about you give a suggestion for once?” You retort. “Instead of just sitting there moping like a child.” 

“Ooh, good one,” Kevin says mockingly, his eyes narrowing at you after. You know he can see you’re getting frustrated with him. You can see it in the smirk he sends your way as he sits up. “Stings real bad, Y/N.”

“Why are you such a prick?” You grab your crossed ankles, rocking back and forth on your butt. 

“Why are you such a teacher’s pet?”

“I’m…I’m literally not.” Your head tilts and Kevin shrugs.

“Sure you aren’t.” 

“Can you focus please?” Kevin rolls his eyes when you change the subject, leaning back onto the palms of his hands and spreading his legs out in front of him. 

“I’ve been focused, you’re the one who keeps getting distracted by me.” 

Your jaw falls slack. You kept getting distracted? The whole time the two of you had been in this room, he had done absolutely nothing to contribute. You, arguably, were the only one not distracted!

“What if we did—”

“Partition by Beyoncé.” Kevin interrupts you, and you quirk an eyebrow.

“I’m not doing that song with you.”

A smirk, and he leans forward. “Why? Afraid you’ll be seduced by your enemy?” 

It's too late for that. “Nope. I just don’t wanna be that close to you at all. You fucking smell.” 

For the first time ever, Kevin falls silent. His jaw hangs open and his eyebrows shoot to his hairline. Internally, you cheer at how you were likely the first person (as far as you know) to make him shut up for a few moments. 

“I do not smell!” He snaps, finally jolted from his stupor when you clear your throat. 

“You kinda do, Kev,” you pick at something on the ground. “Sorry to be the one that broke it to you.”

“Don’t call me Kev.” 

You look at him, and his nose is wrinkled with disgust. He doesn’t look angry, per se, but he isn’t exactly the most pleased you’ve seen him. 

“Sorry.” 

Kevin goes quiet again, and now both of you are picking at the floor. 

“So we’re doing Angel, right?” You ask, trying to clear the awkward air. Your partner kisses his teeth and shakes his head.

“I really think we should do Partition.”

“Why are you so set on doing such a sexual song?” Your cheeks are warm, but you try to ignore it as best you can. Kevin notices, that smug smile returning to his face.

“Why are you so uncomfortable with it? People love these types of performances.” He has a point, but you’ll die before you let him know it. “They love tension between dancers. Gives them a thrill.”

“It’ll be thrilling when they see my fist in your face,” you mumble so he can’t hear you.

“What?” His eyebrows knit together and you smile coyly.

“What?” Your voice is pitched up to mock him, and a muscle feathers in his jaw. 

“We’re doing Partition.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” 

He kisses his teeth again, returning to leaning on the palms of his hands. You lay flat on your back, fingers splayed across your stomach. 

“You’re annoying. You know that, right?” You hear him shift on the ground, and then his face appears in your periphery  A dry laugh escapes you.

“That’s not what your mom said last night.” 

“Don’t— don’t talk about my mom.” You lift your head off the ground, a lazy grin plastered onto your face when you see Kevin’s lips twitching. “That— that wasn’t funny. Like, at all.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t, Kevin.” You agree, lowering your head back to the ground. 

“I’m serious, Y/N. You aren’t funny.” He stands up, gathering his belongings and keeping his back turned. Had you not seen him fighting a smile just a moment ago, you would have thought he was truly angry with you. Or, perhaps, he was angry with you, but the joke was enough to get him to crack a smile.

“I believe you,” you sat up again, following his lead and grabbing your own items. “Totally. Why wouldn’t I?” 

He turns to look at you again, his expression shockingly dull when he meets your eyes. The tension is back, and you shuffle awkwardly in your spot. In the silence of the practice room, you’re struck with the urge to ask him questions. Why he hates you, why he dropped you during the performance. It had been on your mind for so long, but not once have you had the strength to ask. Now, though, you have an unstoppable urge. 

You clear your throat, dipping your head down for a second and then lifting it to keep your eyes on him. 

“Why d—” 

You’ve barely gotten one word out before Kevin interrupts you again, taking long and heavy steps to the door. It’s as if he’d sensed your questions, your curiosity. His timing certainly made it seem that way.

“I’ll text you when we can start working on the choreography.”

Kevin slams the door of the TBZ house so hard that the walls shake. 

“Why the fuck are you slamming my doors?” Sangyeon yells from his bedroom, his voice muffled by the distance between them. 

“Sorry!” Kevin yells back, but he’s not. He’s not sorry at all, not now at least. Why the fuck did he have to get paired with you? Of all the people in the class, why did the professor think it was a good idea to stick the two people who hate each other the most on a team?

“You’re lucky that Sangyeon’s too busy getting his dick sucked to care that you slammed the door.” Changmin peers at Kevin from the kitchen counter, hunched over with a frog-shaped cup in his hand. The older of the two wrinkles his nose in disgust, making his way to the counter and sinking into a barstool. 

“Didn’t need to know that detail, but thanks anyway.” 

“No problem,” Changmin grins sarcastically, lifting his cup as a sort of toast. “What’s got you so ticked off anyway?”

“Some stupid assignment my professor assigned me.”

“Oh, right. The dance one?” 

“Yeah.” 

Kevin drops his head into his hands, rubbing at his eyes with the base of his palms. Then he raises his head, eyebrows knit together in confusion. 

“Wait, how did you know about the assignment?” 

“One of my friends is in that class,” Changmin sets his cup down and leans forward to fold his arms on the granite countertop. “He said he saw you being a dick to Y/N after you found out the two of you were partners for the exhibition.”

“Well, she deserved it,” Kevin grumbles, dropping his hands onto the counter. 

“She always deserves it, according to you.” Changmin kisses his teeth and purses his lips. “Why do you hate her, anyway? She’s a fantastic dancer, she’s super nice, she’s really pretty. She’s got your humor, too, so shouldn’t the two of you, like, get along?”

“Y/N L/N is the spawn of the devil himself, and I’ll die before I get along with her.”

“Okay, I get that, but why?”

Why. Why do you hate her so much? What could she possibly have done to make you drop her in the middle of one of the most important performances of your college career?

“She…” Kevin trails off, his face heating up with embarrassment. “She spilled coffee on me during freshman year.” 

For a few moments, Changmin says nothing and Kevin thinks that the younger man didn’t hear him. Then he speaks, and Kevin wishes he hadn’t said anything at all.

“You…broke a girl’s ankle…and almost ruined her chances at ever dancing again…” Changmin speaks slowly, trying to comprehend the sheer absurdity of what he’d just heard. “Because…because she spilled coffee on you?”

“It wasn’t just that!” Kevin tries to defend. “She got it all over my expensive shirt, the white one you got me for my birthday back in high school. The stain wouldn’t come out, even with bleach, so I had to toss it!”

“You’re the dumbest person I have ever met, Kevin Moon.” Changmin pushes himself up to stand straight, suddenly radiating anger and startling Kevin. “You don’t fucking drop someone and break their ankle because of a goddamn shirt that I bought you from fucking Target.”

“Wait— it was from Target?” Kevin’s jaw drops.

“Yes? Did you think that I bought a wicked expensive plain white button-down shirt?”

“Well, I mean…” Kevin scratches the back of his head, his cheeks heating with embarrassment. 

“You know what?” Changmin pinches the bridge of his nose, biting down on his tongue briefly. “That’s— that’s not the point of this conversation. The point is that you’re a horrible person. You’re a horrible person and if you don’t get your shit together and apologize to that poor girl, I’m gonna get Sangyeon involved.”

“Why— I’m not a horrible person!” Kevin snaps, and Changmin scoffs.

“I truly wonder what she sees in you.” 

For a brief moment, Kevin stops breathing. In that moment, a series of thoughts run through his mind, thoughts that he can’t even begin to process.

Horrible person.

I wonder what she sees in you.

Who is ‘she?’ Why does Changmin know what she thinks of him?

He couldn’t possibly mean you. You hate him, and he hates you. There was no possible way that you cared about him at all, especially after how cruel he’d been to you. 

Right?

One week.

A whole damn week goes by before Kevin texts you to meet him at practice room 304. To be honest, you would have forgotten about the project had your professor not sent out an email the day prior requesting progress videos to be submitted by Monday morning.

“That leaves us, what, four days to draft at least half of the choreography?” You’re sipping at an iced latte, your back against the mirror as Kevin ties the laces of his sneakers. 

“Something like that.” 

He’s on edge. You can hear it in his voice. Something has him tense and you aren’t entirely sure what to do about it, especially since you aren’t the cause (for once). Part of you wants to ask him what’s wrong, but a much larger part of you is screaming to just leave it alone. For a while, you listen to that larger part. You begin working with Kevin to choreograph the song and while it was a bit awkward for you, you find it much easier to work with him than with previous partners you’d had. You ignore the way your skin burns every time he touches you— correcting your posture, helping you with a movement. You ignore how much you enjoy his hands on your body, however faint his touch is. 

You’d admit that Kevin was right about the tension. The air felt stuffy, the walls closing in on you. It was erotic, the choreography Kevin had created. It was fast, and most of the moves you’d gone through required you to have your body close to his. The audience, however, would love this, just like Kevin said. So, no, you weren’t against admitting when Kevin was right, and you would have told him that at the end of practice. 

Really, you would have!

But then Kevin starts pissing you off. 

Small, quiet comments about how ridiculous you look. Insulting how you do a specific move. Nitpicking every step, every breath, every water break. Sweat is dripping down your neck by the time Kevin officially lets you stop for a while. You can see how tired he is, can see his shoulders slumping and his legs wobbling every time he steps. 

“I think we should call it a day.” You call over to him, and he scoffs.

“Of course you would say that.”

Your eyebrows furrow, and you set your water bottle down. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Kevin spins to face you as you say this, his jaw ticking and his hands clenched into fists. 

“You know exactly what it means, Y/N.” He sneers, standing tall when you take long strides over to him.

“No, actually,” you fold your arms over your chest, “I don’t know what it means.” 

“Then I’ll tell you.” His face is now inches from yours, and you back up a bit. Just enough for your face to not be so close to his. “I think you’re losing your touch. I think that you’re sloppy, that you’re arrogant, you can’t admit when you’re wrong.”

Kevin goes on listing these qualities, these faults, and all the while you can only scoff knowing that those are exactly the same things you would use to describe him. 

“I think that—” he continues, but then you’re interrupting him.

“Shut the fuck up, dude.” You can’t stop your eyes from rolling, but it’s not as if you’d planned to hold back anyway. “You think you’re any better than me?”

“Yes, I do.” Kevin tilts his head with a mocking smile. “I think I’m a thousand times better than you.”

“You aren’t,” you tell him, and he bites his tongue when you pretend to pout. “Sorry to burst your egotistical, self-absorbed bubble, but you aren’t better than me. You aren’t a better dancer, a better student, or a better person.” 

Kevin’s gaze hardens, and you don’t notice the step he takes toward you. Or, maybe, you do and choose to ignore it. Maybe it’s exactly what you wanted. 

“You’re full of shit.” He breathes out, and you can feel a few strands of his hair brush against your forehead. The corner of your lips lifts into a lopsided smirk.

“And so aren’t you. We aren’t so different now, are we Moon?” 

A few silent moments. Bated breaths of air. The tension between the two of you is something unlike anything you’d felt before. You take a deep breath, ready to step away from him, and then his lips are crushed against yours in a furious kiss. There’s no love or care for one another behind it, just a fatal mixture of hate and lust for one another. A build-up of tension that could only be dispelled by the two of you.

Kevin’s hands are all over your body— squeezing at your hips, running up and down your waist, brushing over the curve of your ass. Your own hands tear at his clothes, stretching the fabric beyond repair, and your nails sink into his skin, breaking it and making him hiss in pain. Your lips mesh together, your teeth clacking together and your tongues pushing together in more of a fight than a dance of dominance. 

You allow yourself to be backed into the mirror, too caught up in how good his lips feel against yours, and you almost forget how much you supposedly hate him. When his lips fall to your neck and your hands scrape their way up his back, you want to let yourself forget about all the horrible things he’s said to you. His teeth sink into the skin of your neck, listening to the way you groan at the sting, and then his tongue is laving over the spot, his lips sucking at the skin at the same time. He does that over and over again, practically covering every inch of your throat with these marks until it looks like a wild animal got to you.

“I hate you,” Kevin lifts his face from your neck, grabbing your face in one hand and squeezing your cheeks together. His eyes are dark with so many emotions that it has your stomach churning. “I hate you so fucking much.”

You try to respond, but he just squeezes your face tighter and grins maliciously at your desperate whine. He kisses you again, uncaring of the fact that your lips are smushed together and your can’t exactly kiss him back. In fact, it’s almost like that’s exactly what he wants. He wants you to struggle against him, wants you desperate and whining. 

“Isn’t this nice?” He teases, his mouth a hairsbreadth from your own. “Finally quiet for me. You’re so much prettier when you aren’t talking back to me. If I let you go, are you gonna stay quiet?” 

He releases you, and you surge forward to connect your lips in another kiss. Your arms are around his neck and his slide down to your legs, haul you up, and press you against the mirror. You wrap your legs around him, clinging tightly and forcing him impossibly closer to you. Something shifts in the way you move against each other, no longer just your lips and hands, but now your hips are grinding together and you’re moaning, and Kevin is breathless against you, throwing his head back and groaning into the open air. You use this as an opportunity to return the favor, marking his neck up in the same way he’d marked yours (if not a bit harsher). 

“Fuck,” Kevin hisses, hands squeezing so hard at your thighs you know they’ll be bruised in the morning. “Always gotta be so harsh, don’t you?”

“You just did the same thing to me,” you snap back, your body shuddering as he continues to rut against you. Your voice is shaking, containing not nearly the amount of malice you’d hoped it would. You sound desperate, you sound like you want him. Which, of course, you do. But you would prefer it if Kevin didn’t know that.

Too late.

His eyes are gleaming as if in a trance and his hands slide to your ass to drag your hips harder against yours. The pleasure continues to build, your eyes rolling back, and your head falling against the mirror. 

“Thought you hated me,” Kevin coos and laughs when you moan out his name. “Poor baby, so desperate for me you can’t even speak.”

“H-Hate you,” you whine. “Hate you s-so much.”

“I’m sure you do, baby.” He hums, watching as your body begins to convulse. He can feel himself getting closer as well, his dick twitching in his sweatpants. “Go ahead, cum all over the man you hate.”

And you do. Your body shudders, back arching off the mirror as you moan and sob against him. Your hips continue to rut into his, and eventually, he drops his head into your chest, laving with his tongue at the skin exposed by your t-shirt. Your hands are in his hair, holding tightly to the strands.

After a moment, you tap at Kevin’s head to get his attention.

And boy, do you get it. 

As if he was hit with a wave of post-nut clarity, he practically drops you to the ground with a crazed look of horror in his eyes. You frown at him, stumbling back to your feet with legs made of jelly.

“You okay?” 

He backs away from you, nearly tripping over his feet. You follow him, but he’s too fast.

“Don’t— don’t fucking come near me.” He snarls, and you flinch. It’s not fear. It’s hurt. You’re not sure why the statement hurt you, but it did and the feeling stabbed into your heart like a golden dagger. “Stay the fuck away from me. This— this was a mistake. You were a mistake.”

It’s become a sort of habit for him, you think, watching as he slams the door to the practice room. You still aren’t quite sure why it hurts, why your throat feels like it’s closing up and your stomach churns with displeasure. You turn to face the mirror, tracing a hand up your neck to touch the marks on your neck and there’s a sad smile plastered on your face.

It can’t be helped when he’s hated you for so long. 

There’s a crack in your heart, and you wonder if it’ll be fixed just like the crack in your bone from the last time he hurt you.

Kevin slams the door of his car so harshly he almost fears he broke it. The engine rumbles to life, and tires screech against the ground as he speeds out of the parking lot and gets far, far away from you. 

His hands are shaking, so unsteady that he’s almost afraid he’ll get into an accident. His heart is pounding. Adrenaline, maybe. Fear is more likely. Fear of what he’d just done, what he could have done. It terrifies him, the rush of emotions he’d felt when you looked at him. 

It didn’t make sense to him. You were supposed to hate him, to want him dead. Why did you look at him like that? Like he hung the stars in the sky and painted the moon just for you. Why. Why. You ruined everything. 

A choked sob forces its way up his throat, and he covers his mouth with the back of his hand. 

He doesn’t understand it. Why is he feeling so many emotions from this? He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t be feeling this…this…

Kevin doesn’t even understand the emotion he’s feeling, so he decides he won’t bother. 

He’ll ignore you, avoiding you as best he possibly could. You’ll practice alone, that way he won’t have to speak with you. 

Avoid, ignore, hate. Avoid, ignore, hate. 

That was the perfect solution.

Avoid you and the inevitable questions you’ll have.

Ignore you and the looks you’ll send him. The confusion, the anger.

Hate you. Hate the way you make him feel, the way you make him want you.

Hate you.

Hate you 

Love you.

© itsbeeble. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

── THE GLASS PRINCESS // FIVE

Series Synopsis: You wake up in a strange room with no memories, broken glass at your bedside, and a prince named Zuko as your only chance at figuring out who you really are.

Chapter Synopsis: You visit Ember Island with Jia-Li and grow closer with her and her brother. Everything comes to a head, though, when a party on the island goes wrong.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 7.4k

Content Warnings: complicated relationships (strangers to friends to lovers to enemies to strangers to lovers to enemies to lovers), amnesia, alternate universe, lots of secrets and lying and mystery

A/N: would you guys believe if i said i thought we’d already know reader’s real identity this many words into the fic?? anyways enjoy the fun times while they last folks because trust it will be getting angsty at some point probably

Dear Zuko,

I’m sorry for whatever I did that made you angry with me. Please forgive me. I don’t want you to be upset.

Sincerely, Ursa

P.S. Destroying Chan’s house was wrong, but since it was him, I won’t chide you. Jia-Li and I also participated a bit, so it would be hypocritical, anyways.

P.P.S. I’m not friends with Ruon-Jian anymore. 

Though you had been at sea for quite a bit of time now, you still had not grown bored of staring at the ocean. Jia-Li had sat back down under the shade of the silk canopy a while ago, eating a bowl full of ice cream and watching you in amusement as you stood at the prow and peered down into the water.

“It’s so beautiful,” you said.

“You’ve said that like a hundred times,” Jia-Li teased you.

“I know, I just…I just can't get over it. I’ve never seen anything quite so blue,” you said, though this was somewhat a lie. That blue from your memories, it resembled this water in depth, though not in texture — the water was clear and lucid, whereas the blue you remembered was harsh and matte.

“I guess I should be glad that you’re enjoying yourself already! Just think about it — you haven’t even gotten to Ember Island yet, and you’re having so much fun. Imagine how much better it’ll be once you’re there!” Jia-Li said.

“I can’t wait,” you said dreamily. “As long as we can go swimming, I’ll be happy.”

“Of course,” she said. “We’ll swim every day! My brother wrote to me, he said that the tides have been forgiving this season. Maybe I can convince him to teach you how to ride the flying dolphin fish. He always shoos me away whenever I ask, but it’s impossible to hate you, Ursa, so he’ll definitely say yes.”

You had been growing accustomed to that name. It still felt like an alias at times, but it was a familiar one, said around you so often that you barely even hesitated before responding to it.

“It’s fine if he doesn’t,” you said. “Though it would be nice to learn something like that…”

“Maybe you should ask him!” Jia-Li said. “There’s no way he can refuse then!”

“I wouldn’t want to be imposing,” you said immediately, shaking your head. “He shouldn’t have to do something just because he’s too guilty to say no.”

“No, I was more thinking along the lines of ‘you’re pretty and he doesn’t say no to pretty girls’, actually,” she said. “He’ll be happy to oblige you, but if it’s a request from his little sister, he’s likely to say no just to be contrary.”

“We’ll see,” you said after ruminating on it for a second. “Also, thank you for the compliment.”

“It’s just the truth,” Jia-Li said. “But since we’re on the subject — I know you don’t have memories, so you can’t answer about your past life, but what about recently? Have you had a crush on someone before?”

“A crush?” you said.

“Yeah! I mean, have you ever liked anyone?” she said.

“I like a lot of people,” you said. “For example, you and Ty Lee.”

“No, silly, not in that way. I mean liking someone romantically,” Jia-Li elaborated. “I know a few of the boys in the Royal Fire Academy for Boys have been talking about you, so I was just curious.”

“Oh!” you said, covering your face with your hands so that she could not see the embarrassment blooming on it. “I didn’t know that they were.”

“Sure, of course they are! They talk about a lot of us, so it makes sense, and anyways I wasn’t lying when I said you’re pretty. They’re all too scared to actually talk to you, but I’m sure that if you went to the market alone and met one of them, they’d propose on the spot,” she said.

The academies for girls and boys had separate campuses, but they were run conjointly, so that your breaks aligned and your events were held in tandem. Though you tended to avoid attending sporting matches, you had gone to one or two in your time as a student, so you supposed that must’ve been when you had become a viable prospect for whatever nonsense Jia-Li was spouting.

“I don’t talk to any boys,” you pointed out. “Even if any of them like me, I don’t know them, so I can’t say I like them back.”

“You talk to the prince a lot,” she said.

“What?” you said.

“Did you really think I didn’t notice how often you send letters to him via Bian?” she chided. You coughed uncomfortably.

“Um, well, he is my benefactor, so I have to keep him updated with my day-to-day activities,” you said. “It’s, er, part of my scholarship, you know.”

It was not, but Jia-Li seemed to buy the lie readily enough, nodding sagely, though not without a dramatic pout.

“That does check out, but it’s not nearly as exciting as a secret love affair or letters written out of pining and sent with longing, stamped with your heart’s greatest desire for a man that can never be your own!” she said.

“Sorry?” you said. “I don’t think any of that fits the situation, though.”

She sighed. “It’s okay.”

“What about you? Do you have any crushes?” you said, recognizing that this was the logical next step in the conversation. Jia-Li blushed and looked at the wooden paneling of the deck, using her fingers to twirl the hair which escaped her ponytail to frame her face.

“Yes,” she said. “Kind of. But it’s someone who I shouldn’t like, and who would never like me back, so I’ve never said anything.”

“Who?” you said. “Your family is pretty influential, isn’t it? I can’t imagine most anyone rejecting you. Unless you like Prince Zuko and are projecting your ‘heart’s greatest desire for a man that can never be your own’ onto me?”

“No way!” Jia-Li said. “It’s more complicated than him being of a higher ranking than me.”

“Then what is it?” you said.

“He’s my brother’s best friend!” she said, all in a rush, her entire face in flames at the confession.

“Oh,” you said, cringing in empathy. “I see. He would not approve?”

“Definitely not,” she said. “But there’s something worse than him not approving: marrying this boy would mean having Kaho as a sister-in-law!”

“Oh, Agni,” you said, slapping your palm against your forehead. How had you forgotten? It was the only reason Jia-Li was somewhat exempt from Kaho’s reign of terror, despite her association with you: her brother and Kaho’s were best friends. But if she liked Kaho’s brother, then what would that mean?

“That’s the scenario,” she said. “And to top it all off, he’s notoriously popular with girls. He probably wouldn’t even look at me twice. I’ll always just be Ruon-Jian’s annoying little sister to him.”

“I doubt that that’s true,” you said as you approached the docks. “Really, Jia-Li, I don’t think that's the case. You said his family will be on Ember Island at the same time as us?”

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “Although Kaho mentioned not being able to come — something about volunteering as a scribe for some official meeting that the Fire Lord will be hosting over the weekend.”

“Perfect! That’ll be our goal, then,” you said.

“Huh?” she said.

“We’re going to get you noticed by your crush! Who cares about the consequences? Kaho and your brother can just deal with it, and if they have something to say, then they can talk to me,” you said.

“That’s nice of you to offer, but what would you even do?” Jia-Li said.

“I don’t know,” you said. “Talk to them, I guess. Kaho already doesn’t like me, so it’s not a tragedy if she hates me more, and I don’t know your brother that well, so if he and I don’t get along after that kind of conversation, it won’t be a great loss.”

“Do you really think we can do something like that?” she said.

“We have to try,” you said. “You deserve it, Jia-Li.”

“Thank you,” she said, swallowing. “You’re a really good friend, Ursa. If you ever change your mind and decide you do like Prince Zuko after all, just let me know—”

“Jia-Li!” you warned her, though the threat fell flat, as she only laughed in return.

Jia-Li’s home on Ember Island was close to the docks, and it was right on the water. She told you as you walked up the seashell-lined path that that stretch of sand was actually a private beach that belonged to her family, so you wouldn’t have to worry about anyone bothering you while you were there.

“Sometimes my brother goes to the bigger beach a little ways away, though,” she said. “They like seeing other people our age and hanging out with them and whatnot.”

“Maybe when I’m a little more confident, we can try it,” you said. “For now, I’m just glad we have our own space where I don’t have to be worried about embarrassing myself in case I drown or something.”

“I wouldn’t let you drown,” Jia-Li said. “But I’m fine with that plan. It’s not like I have some huge desire to be on a massively crowded beach with the others, so it’s not heartbreaking for me if we just stay here the whole time.”

“Now, now, not the whole time,” you said. “We have to leave the house at some point so we can meet this guy you like!”

“I’m still not so sure about that,” she said, pulling out a key from her pocket and using it to unlock the front door. “Now hush, I don’t need my brother overhearing us. We can talk more later tonight or something.”

“On it,” you said, pretending to seal your lips shut. She rolled her eyes before motioning you after her. Carefully, you stepped into the grand foyer, scuffing your shoes on the welcome mat to rid them of the sand. Jia-Li smiled in approval, presumably at your politeness, and you smiled back at her.

“Mother, father!” Jia-Li shouted. “Ruon-Jian! Ursa and I are here!”

Jia-Li’s mother peeked her head around the corner, nodding demurely at the two of you, though it was deeper and more reverent when it came to you. She looked exactly like Jia-Li, only a little older, her features aged, the cut of her face sharper.

“It is good to meet you,” she said. Her voice was musical and quiet, carefully controlled — it was the culmination of years of training as the wife of a high-ranking Fire Nation official. It was what you and Jia-Li and Kaho and Ty Lee would one day sound like, once you had graduated from the academy and were ready to enter society properly.

“And you as well, madam,” you said, clasping your hands, bowing your head slightly. “Thank you for welcoming me into your home. It is greatly appreciated.”

“You are so polite,” Jia-Li’s mother said, the slightest traces of happiness flickering over her face. “I am glad Jia-Li has such an exemplary friend to look up to.”

“Nice to see you, too, mother,” Jia-Li said. Her mother laughed, opening her arms.

“Come here, then,” she said. Jia-Li brightened, racing into her mother’s arms and hugging her. You looked away, feeling like you were intruding on the moment and wishing you had your own mother to embrace like that.

“Where’s father?” Jia-Li said. Her mother sighed.

“He and Admiral Chan were called back to the palace for some important meeting, so they’re not on the island for the moment,” she said.

“It must be the meeting Kaho is scribing for,” you said.

“Most likely,” Jia-Li said. “Do you think he’ll be able to come back before I leave for the academy again? I haven’t seen him in so long.”

“I’m not sure, darling,” her mother said. “If he is still in the capital by the time your boat leaves the docks, I will send him a message to stay in the capital and receive you before he returns.”

“Thank you,” she said. “What about Ruon-Jian? Where is he?”

“Oh, that boy, he’s being as troublesome as ever. I believe he’s locked in his room at the moment. Ruon-Jian! Please come downstairs and say hello to your sister and her friend!” her mother said. It was strange — even yelling, she sounded soft and polite, which should not have made sense but somehow did.

“Why?” a deep, grumbling voice said. There were heavy footsteps on the stairs, evidence that Jia-Li’s brother was on his way but wasn’t exactly happy about it. “I don’t wanna meet Jia-Li and her stupid friend — woah.”

Her brother was tall and willowy, with shaggy brown hair that fell into his face, giving him an effortlessly cool appearance. His eyes were the same color as Jia-Li’s, but that was about where their similarities ended. If you had seen him outside, without introduction, you wouldn’t have been able to guess that they were siblings in the first place.

“This is Ruon-Jian,” Jia-Li said when it became obvious that her brother wasn’t going to introduce himself. He was far too busy staring at something, his jaw dropped and his eyebrows raised, though when Jia-Li spoke, he was able to pull himself together, running his hand through his hair and then smirking.

“That’s right,” he said. “The name’s Ruon-Jian.”

“That’s what I just said,” Jia-Li said.

“What about you?” he said. You looked from side to side, wondering who he was talking to, and then you realized it was you, which meant that the thing he had been staring at was also…

“Ursa,” you said. “I’m Ursa.”

You weren’t sure how you felt about the attention. Maybe you liked it, or maybe you didn’t. It was strange and fluttering and unfamiliar in the pit of your stomach, and behind your back, you wrung your hands nervously.

“Ursa,” he said. “Great name. It’s as pretty as you are.”

“Um, I guess if I knew who my parents were, I’d pass along the compliment,” you said.

“Wicked,” he said. “So, what are you doing on Ember Island?”

“She’s my friend, idiot. My roommate from the academy,” Jia-Li said.

“Shh, Jia-Li, I’m trying to get to know her better! Stop talking and interrupting her,” Ruon-Jian said. You exchanged bewildered looks with Jia-Li’s mother, while at your side, Jia-Li fumed, the air shimmering from the heat she gave off as a Firebender.

“She’s right,” you said. “I’m her roommate back at school. She’s one of my greatest friends.”

“Sick,” he said.

“I don’t think I am,” you said, puzzled.

“It’s slang,” Jia-Li said.

“I understand,” you said, although you didn’t, not fully. This way of speaking was entirely foreign to you, but you figured that if you had Jia-Li with you to translate, you’d probably be alright.

“Who’s your family, Ursa?” Ruon-Jian said.

“I don’t have one,” you said.

“Word?” he said.

“He’s asking if that’s the truth,” Jia-Li whispered. “It’s like saying ‘really?’”

“It is the truth,” you said. “I have no memories. I am the girl that the royal family sponsored to study at the academy after I was rescued from the Earth Kingdom.”

“No way!” Ruon-Jian said. “That’s so cool!”

“Not really,” Jia-Li said. “She doesn’t remember anything. Including her family. Idiot.”

“If I could forget you, I’d do so in a heartbeat,” Ruon-Jian said.

“Well, I’d do the same!” Jia-Li snapped. You cleared your throat.

“I’m just grateful to Prince Zuko for saving me and ensuring my future,” you said. “He, and the rest of the royal family, are likely the reason I’m still alive and standing before you today.”

“Word,” Ruon-Jian said.

“I am not lying this time, either,” you affirmed.

“No, that was more of an expression of agreement,” Jia-Li said.

“I am a little confused,” you said. “But I shall trust you on this one, Jia-Li.”

“Do you have plans for the week?” Ruon-Jian said.

“Jia-Li is going to teach me to swim,” you said, beaming at Jia-Li, who gave you a high-five in return. “Beyond that, no, not really.”

“We were going to ask you if you could teach her to ride the flying dolphin fish,” Jia-Li said. “I know you’d never teach me, but—”

“Definitely!” Ruon-Jian said, cutting Jia-Li off. “I’ll teach you anything you want, Ursa.”

Heat rushed into your face, and you bit your lower lip, shifting from foot to foot nervously. Glancing at Jia-Li, who shrugged, you trained your attention on the ground instead of looking at Ruon-Jian when you responded.

“I think that that would be fun,” you said.

“We’ll get started tomorrow,” he said.

“Ruon-Jian, usually I’m joking when I say it, but you really are an idiot! How can you teach her to ride flying dolphin fish if she doesn’t even know how to swim?” Jia-Li said.

“The day after tomorrow, then!” Ruon-Jian declared. “See you around, Ursa!”

With that, he bounded back upstairs, taking the steps two at a time, leaving you, Jia-Li, and her mother standing in the foyer, somehow even more confused than before.

The next day was somehow sunnier and brighter than the previous, which was a relief, as it was the day you were supposed to learn to swim. At present, you were wearing one of Jia-Li’s sets of swimming clothes, your towel spread out on the sand as you looked at the ocean with furrowed brows.

“You ready?” Jia-Li said.

“I think so,” you said.

“Let’s go!” she said. Without waiting for you, she charged into the water, flopping onto her stomach once it was deep enough for her to do so. Not even taking a second to think, you sprinted in after her, and when the water rose to the level of your thighs, you didn’t second-guess yourself. Using your legs to push off, you dove into the water, jetting through it, forcing your eyes open and laughing soundlessly as you wove amongst the flowing bubbles and colorful fish that decorated the ocean.

It was many seconds later that you pushed your way to the surface, taking a deep breath, your legs churning the water so that you stayed afloat. Some ways away, Jia-Li had done the same, though she was busily scanning the shore for where you might be.

“Jia-Li!” you called out. “Over here!”

“Ursa!” she said, clapping her hands in delight. “I guess you do know how to swim!”

“I guess so!” you said, overcome with a rush of euphoria at the weightless feeling the water afforded you. Jia-Li paddled over to where you were treading, doing the same beside you so that you two could talk.

“That means you can learn to ride the flying dolphin fish sooner rather than later,” she said slyly. You lowered your eyes.

“Maybe,” you said.

“I knew it!” she squealed. “You have a crush on my brother!”

“No!” you said, far too quickly to sound convincing. “I mean. No.”

“You do!” Jia-Li said. “I can’t understand why you’d ever have a crush on him, but I guess there’s really someone out there for everyone.”

“I don’t even know him,” you said. “Sure, he’s cool and all, but I don’t know the first thing about who he is as a person. How can I say for certain that I have a crush or anything?”

“That’s why you have to get to know him,” Jia-Li said, poking you in the forehead. “Right?”

“True,” you said. “Then I can tell you for certain how I feel. What about you, though?”

“What about me?” she said innocently.

“When will I get to meet this mysterious crush of yours? You can hardly expect to pursue him if you never even go to see him!” you said. She splashed you with water.

“I’m not about to just go visit his house for no reason! It would be weird,” she said.

“Maybe a little bit,” you said. “But there has to be a way for you to accidentally run into him! And when I say accidentally, of course it won’t be an accident at all, but it’ll appear to be one.”

“Just forget about it,” Jia-Li said. “It’s not a big deal. If it’s meant to be, something will come up.”

“If that’s what you want,” you said. “But you have to promise me that if something comes up, as you say it will, you’ll really try your hardest.”

“Okay,” Jia-Li said in determination. “If there is some opportunity for me to talk to him, I’ll do it.”

“That’s the way!” you said. “Now, let’s race. I want to see how fast I am, too.”

“First one to that bit of driftwood wins?” Jia-Li said, pointing at a smoothed-over log floating in the distance.

“You’re on,” you said. “Three, two — hey, I didn’t say go yet! Jia-Li!”

You could not remember ever having as much fun as you did during that time on Ember Island. You and Jia-Li spent hours lazing around on the beach or swimming in the water, eating whatever her family’s chef prepared for you, drinking fruit juice that was sometimes sweet, sometimes sour, oftentimes both. At night, you would stay up until the moon was high in the sky, giggling and exchanging secrets and stories, making fun of your classmates and the boys in the Royal Academy for Boys.

“You know, one of them has a shrine dedicated to Kaho,” Jia-Li told you one night. You howled with laughter.

“No!” you said.

“Yes, he really does! He found a portrait of her and leaves money and food in front of it every week,” she said.

“You’re making that up,” you said.

“Nope, I found out during one of the sporting matches,” she said. “I was a little disgusted, but now that I see the humor in it, I confess I’m entirely amused by the entire thing.”

You would sleep late into the day, sometimes missing the morning entirely and only waking up for the afternoons. Jia-Li’s mother never scolded you two for it, saying that she was happy you were catching up on your rest, since dark circles were not comely on a woman or something along those lines.

Sometimes, Ruon-Jian would spend a few minutes with you both, but for the most part, he was off with Chan, his best friend and Kaho’s older brother. When he was with you, he was usually sitting at your side, making fun of his sister and complimenting you all at once. And even though you barely knew him, you had to admit that it was nice to have someone paying such close attention to you for once, treating you as if you were worthy of his time and entirely normal, the way he was, instead of tiptoeing around you and your lost memories.

“You ready, Ursa?” Ruon-Jian said, plopping down on the bench beside you as you and Jia-Li ate breakfast — or was it lunch, at this point?

“For what, Ruon-Jian?” you said, batting your eyelashes at him. From across the table, Jia-Li pretended to gag.

He elbowed you in the side. “To learn to ride flying dolphin fish, of course!”

“Yes!” you said, shooting to your feet. “I thought you’d forgotten!”

“How could I forget about you?” he said. “The currents just haven’t been right for a beginner recently. You should’ve seen how badly Chan wiped out the other day!”

You glanced at Jia-Li. She mimed falling over, and you gave her a discreet thumbs up.

“You didn’t fall, though, did you?” you said. Ruon-Jian beamed and flexed his arms.

“’Course not. I’m way better than Chan,” he bragged.

“Very impressive. Then there must be no one in the Fire Nation more equipped to teach me,” you said.

“Not a single person,” he agreed.

“I can’t bear to watch any more of this,” Jia-Li muttered to no one in particular. “You guys have fun. I’m going to collect our clothes so that they can get washed, Ursa.”

She left without another word, though as she walked away, you thought you caught her saying something about how you could do better. Ignoring it, you followed after Ruon-Jian towards the beach behind his house, struggling to keep up with his brisk stride.

“There’s a pod of flying dolphin fish that visits our beach pretty regularly,” he said. “We should be able to catch a ride there.”

“Okay,” you said. “Is it safe?”

“We’ll ride the same one, so I can look after you, but on the whole, flying dolphin fish are very docile, so as long as the waves are gentle, it’s fine,” he said. “That’s why I’ve been waiting to take you out.”

“That sounds good,” you said. He whistled.

“That’s how we call them. Now, we just have to wait until they come,” he said, pulling you forward to stand beside him.

“Then what?” you said.

“It’s a surprise,” he said. “Just kidding! Then we swim out and find the friendliest one and get on.”

It took a few minutes, but eventually, in the distance, there were splashes. Ruon-Jian whooped in delight, grabbing your hand and dragging you after him before you could protest.

“They were fast today!” he said. “Let’s go before they decide to leave again!”

Ruon-Jian was a little faster than you at swimming, though you had been faster than Jia-Li. You didn’t feel insulted, though; he spent much of his time in the ocean, so it was to be expected that he was better than both you and his sister alike. The end result was that he reached the flying dolphin fish before you, and had already mounted one by the time you swam up to its side.

“How do I get on?” you said.

“You don’t,” he said, using his legs to hold onto the body of the flying dolphin fish and then bending over to pull you out of the water and set you in front of him.

“Thanks,” you said, suddenly very aware of how close he was to you, how he held onto your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Just rest your hands on its head,” he said. “Like that. Good job! I’ll do all the steering and stuff with my legs, so don’t worry about that for now. All you have to do is focus on your balance.”

“Got it,” you said.

“Then let’s get going!” he said, clicking at the flying dolphin fish, which took off with a push of its powerful tail, propelling itself through the water. Its speed was breathtaking, and as the wind rushed against your face, tears gathered in your eyes, tears of joy and freedom and also of regret. When was the last time you had felt like this? When was the last time you had been so happy? Why didn’t you endeavor to be so more often?

Suddenly, the flying dolphin fish took off into the air, and then you were soaring. Everything faded away, the rest of the world and Ruon-Jian and the flying dolphin fish and even you. It was all nothing. You were all nothing. There was only the sky and the sea and the smell of salt on the wind, blue taking over your vision and almost, for a second, reminding you of something else.

Then you were slamming back into the water, the flying dolphin fish not even slowing its pace as it went from air to ocean. The spray that hit your face from the impact was enough to wake you up from the daze, and you were reminded of where you were and who you were and what you were doing.

“That was so fun,” you said as you and Ruon-Jian re-entered the house, still dripping with saltwater despite the towels wrapped around you both.

“It’s sick, right? I knew you’d like it,” Ruon-Jian said. “Speaking of things you might like…my friend Chan is holding a party later tonight. You wanna come?”

You perked up at the name Chan, knowing he was none other than the object of Jia-Li’s affections.

“Yes, but only if Jia-Li can come, too,” you said.

“Aw, no way! Chan never leaves her alone, and I don’t want my best friend bothering my little sister. It’s so odd!” he said.

“It’ll be really lonely for me to be at a party where I don’t even know anyone,” you said with a small frown.

“That’s fair,” he said.

“And she’s my friend, so it’ll be more fun for me if she’s there,” you continued. “That’s why I’ll only go if she can, too.”

“Okay, okay,” Ruon-Jian said. “Fine. She can come, too.”

“Yay! Thank you so much!” you said, clapping. “It’s going to be so much fun.”

“Sure will be,” he said. “You should go get ready, though. There’ll be a lot of influential people there, so you should try to look your best.”

“Of course,” you said. “See you soon!”

Luckily, Jia-Li had been right in assuming that you and her would be the same size. You had been wearing her clothes for the entire vacation, and tonight was no different, as she picked out something nice for you to put on for the party.

“Ursa, I’m convinced you’re a miracle worker,” Jia-Li said, shaking her head. “Seriously! How is it that you managed to get us invited to one of Chan’s parties? They’re super selective.”

“Simple. Your brother invited me, and I told him I’d only go if you could, too. He was initially a bit reluctant, since he seemed to think Chan wouldn’t leave you alone, but he came around,” you said.

“You’re the best,” she said.

“I honestly might’ve just said no from the get go, but I heard that Chan was hosting, and I knew we had to attend. This is literally the sign you were waiting for!” you said. “What are the odds that your brother would invite me to a party hosted by the man of your dreams?”

“Pretty high, considering he thinks you’re really attractive and the so-called man of my dreams is his best friend,” Jia-Li said. “But I know what you’re saying, and I agree. Enough about that, though. The only thing left is for us to do our best to look amazing!”

Because Ruon-Jian and Chan were best friends, you arrived at the party before anyone else so that you could help Chan set up. His house was enormous, according to Ruon-Jian, and he had said it would be greatly appreciated if you all could lend a hand. With a meaningful look at Jia-Li, you had accepted.

“I made sure that Chan knew what food you like, Ursa, so that he could serve it,” Ruon-Jian said, his arm tossed around your shoulders. “I want you to have the best time!”

“Aren’t you so romantic, brother?” Jia-Li said dryly.

“Thank you, Ruon-Jian,” you said.

“Anytime,” he said with a smirk.

“Ruon-Jian!” a tall, muscular boy said as he opened the door to the mansion. “I thought you’d never get here.”

“Jia-Li took forever getting ready, dude,” Ruon-Jian said. “By the way, Chan, this is Ursa. And Ursa, this is Chan.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you said.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Chan said. “Did you say Jia-Li? Is she here?”

“I am,” Jia-Li from where she was hiding behind you and Ruon-Jian. “Hi, Chan.”

“Jia-Li! It’s been ages since I saw you last. How have you been?” Chan said, yanking her by the arm and into the house.

“Quit flirting with my sister!” Ruon-Jian shouted, though he went ignored by both Chan and Jia-Li. You patted him on the arm.

“It’s okay,” you said. “She doesn’t seem upset about it, so you shouldn’t be, either.”

“It’s just so freaky,” he said with a shudder. “Jia-Li’s my baby sister. She shouldn’t have guys interested in her, let alone guys that have been my best friend since I could count.”

“She’s grown up now,” you said. “She can make her own decisions. You should just support her.”

“If you think that’s what’s best,” he said reluctantly. “You’re pretty mature, you know.”

“It’s funny, I feel like I’ve heard that before, though I don’t quite recall who might’ve said such a thing,” you said. “It doesn’t matter; either way, thank you.”

Jia-Li and Chan were too busy talking with each other, and Ruon-Jian was too busy fixing his hair in the mirror, so the brunt of the party set up fell to you. You didn’t mind, though, liking the act of working, and you were so efficient that everything was ready right around dusk.

“The place looks great, Ursa,” Ruon-Jian said when you rejoined him in front of the mirror.

“Your hair does, too, so you can stop fiddling with it,” you said. He pulled you in by the waist, flashing a peace sign in the mirror.

“Don’t we look so good together?” he said. “It’s like…like you were meant to stand beside me.”

“I suppose so,” you said, though you weren’t sure if you would go so far as to say all that. Still, it was nice to know that someone thought you belonged with them, so when he began to lean in, you did not move away.

Right when his lips were about to brush against yours, there was a knock on the door. He drew back in irritation.

“Who is here this early?” he said. “Whatever. Where were we again?”

The moment was ruined, though, so you pretended to be preoccupied with straightening your clothes, your head tilted downwards so that he could not even catch your eye.

“These are some really punctual party guests,” you said. “No one else is here yet.”

“Yeah, punctual’s one word for it,” Ruon-Jian said, clearly taking the hint you had given him and hopefully not being too miffed about it. “Wait, it’s that group we invited when we were on the beach earlier! Should’ve known they’d be the type.”

“On the — Ty Lee?” you said.

The first one to enter, Ty Lee turned in search of whoever had said her name. When she noticed you standing beside Ruon-Jian, one of his arms still around your waist, your posture clearly still set towards him, her jaw dropped.

“Ursa?” she said. “What are you doing here?”

“I feel like that’s a question I should be asking you,” you said as she cartwheeled over to drag you away from Ruon-Jian and into a hug so tight you temporarily stopped breathing.

“We were just hanging out on the beach when we got invited to come by Chan and Ruon-Jian!” she said. “I can’t believe you’re here, too.”

“Ruon-Jian is Jia-Li’s older brother, and he’s best friends with Chan, so I think that my presence is a little more explicable than yours,” you said. “When you say we, though, who do you mean?”

“Me, Mai, Azula, and Zuko!” Ty Lee said, pointing at each of them in turn. Mai was sitting by a painting, glaring whenever someone tried to approach her, and the girl who must’ve been the infamous Princess Azula was talking to Chan while Jia-Li stood behind her, ostensibly shoved out of the way so that the princess could have her turn talking to the host.

As for Zuko, he was still awkwardly standing by the doorframe, though when he glanced over at you, his eyes widened. At first, relief filled them, but when he noticed your proximity to Ruon-Jian, a strange sort of malcontent settled over his expression.

“Zuko!” you said as he stormed over to you. Ty Lee looked at him and then back at you before promptly dashing over to Mai’s side, the only one who didn’t get glared at for daring to go near her. “What are you—?”

“Who is he?” he said.

“The name’s Ruon-Jian, dude,” Ruon-Jian said, holding out his hand for Zuko to shake. Zuko looked at it disdainfully before scoffing and then returning his gaze to you.

“He’s Jia-Li’s older brother,” you said.

“Right,” Zuko said sardonically. “That’s why the two of you are so close.”

“I’ve been staying at his house the whole time I’ve been on Ember Island, so yeah, it’s probably a contributing factor,” you said.

“I’m gonna go get some food, Ursa. There are some freaky vibes here right now that I don’t really approve of,” Ruon-Jian said, inching away.

“Do you like him?” Zuko said. You blinked, taken aback by the direct question. In his letters, he was so kind and tactful, so you had come to associate him with that sort of language. The elegance with which he wrote, the careful concern he always showed for whatever you said — all of it had caused a fondness for him to grow in you.

“He’s just my friend’s older brother,” you said. The way he was speaking now was as if he was accusing you and you had to defend yourself or face judgment, but what crime had you even committed in the first place? “He taught me to ride flying dolphin fish and invited me to the party. That’s all.”

“Of course,” he said. “He’s so cool, with his dumb hair and clothes and flying dolphin fish, so of course you like him. No surprise there.”

“Are you angry?” you said. “Why?”

“Am I angry?” he said. “No!”

“You sound a little angry,” you said meekly. “I just wanted to make sure.”

“Why would it even matter to you?” he said.

“I don’t know?” you said. “I was only asking.”

“Don’t ask questions for no reason, especially when you don’t care about the answer in the first place,” he said.

“But that’s not the case. I did care about the answer, or else I wouldn’t have asked,” you said.

“Well, next time, just ask that boyfriend of yours,” he said.

“Ruon-Jian?” you said.

“Yes?” Ruon-Jian said, appearing out of nowhere. “Here, this is for you.”

“You have such horrible timing,” you said under your breath, accepting the plate he handed you. “Zuko, have you eaten anything yet? There’s a lot of really good food out. I’m sure you’ll like it.”

“It’s all Ursa’s favorites!” Ruon-Jian said. “I made sure of it myself.”

“Oh, yeah?” Zuko said with a sneer. “What the hell do you know about her, anyways?”

“Yo, chill, dude,” Ruon-Jian said, holding his hands in the air. “Who even are you? I probably know more than you! Her and I are really close, you see.”

It was probably the worst thing he could’ve said. Zuko’s face darkened, and then, before any of you knew it, he was grabbing Ruon-Jian by the collar and throwing him into a nearby vase. You jumped at the noise before rushing over to help Ruon-Jian stand.

“I’m fine,” Ruon-Jian said, waving you off as he staggered to his feet. “What is your problem, dude?”

“Stay away from her,” Zuko said.

“Who are you to say that?” you said. “My benefactor? That doesn’t mean you get to control my life, Zuko! Why does it matter to you who I’m hanging out with? He’s from a perfectly respectable family, so it’s not like it’ll reflect badly on you. I don’t get what the big deal is!”

“Seriously?” Zuko said. “You think I care what family he’s from? Do what you want! It doesn’t matter to me. It’s what you’ll do anyways, so why should I try to stop you?”

“What happened?” you said. “Why has your opinion of me lowered so thoroughly? What have I done to offend you so greatly? I know that you are angry, and I know it is because of me, but I cannot understand why!”

“There’s a lot of things you can’t understand,” he said.

“I heard a crash, is everyone — who broke my nana’s vase?” Chan shrieked as he came back into the main room. Ruon-Jian pointed at Zuko. “You! I’ve had enough of you, alright? Get out of my party!”

“I was just leaving,” Zuko said, though not without one last glare at all of you.

“See you around, loser!” Ruon-Jian said.

“Jia-Li’s right,” you said as Mai, Ty Lee, and Princess Azula excused themselves as well. “You really are an idiot. Do you know who that was?”

“Some jealous loser?” Ruon-Jian said. You opened your mouth to argue before deflating, knowing that there was no point.

“Just forget about it. Let’s try to enjoy ourselves for the rest of the party,” you said.

Some time later, there was a knock on the door. Chan opened it, and then his face fell.

“Hello, Chan,” a voice that could only be Princess Azula’s said. “Thanks for inviting us earlier, but I have some unfortunate news to share.”

“The party’s over,” Zuko said, and then all four of them were in the room, sending bursts of fire everywhere, kicking the tables in half, swinging from the chandeliers and slicing up the paintings.

“What is going on?” Jia-Li shouted, covering her head with her hands.

“I have no idea,” you said. “Hey, what are you guys doing?”

Chan screamed as Mai threw a set of knives into a pair of antique paintings on the walls and the chandelier came crashing to the ground under Ty Lee’s weight. Jia-Li pulled you out of the way of a stray lick of blue fire from Azula, and you buried your face in your hands.

“This was a pretty terrible party,” Ty Lee said, dropping lightly to her feet in front of you. “You could say we’re showing our appreciation as guests!”

“By destroying his house?” you said as Zuko kicked an entire pillar in half.

“Yep! Wanna join?” Ty Lee said.

“No!” you and Jia-Li said in unison.

“To each their own!” Ty Lee said before springing away.

“Well…” Jia-Li said. “It would feel nice.”

“What? Why?” you said.

“I thought Chan was confessing to me on the balcony earlier, but it turns out that even though he does like me, he wants to live a free and unburdened life, without the commitment of having a girlfriend. He told me that the best he could offer me is a long-term arrangement in which he does what he wants and then spends some time with me whenever I’m on the island,” Jia-Li said.

“That’s horrible,” you said.

“And while I was out there, he told me that Ruon-Jian invited Mai and Ty Lee because he thought they were hot and he wanted a chance with them,” she continued. “So there’s that.”

You scowled, and even though you hadn’t been betrayed, it felt as if you had been. Naturally, you held no claim on Ruon-Jian, but the entire reason you had grown close to him in the first place was because you liked being someone’s priority. If you weren’t even that, then what was the point?

“Jia-Li,” you said. “Since it’s the prince and princess in charge of the destruction, you could consider it a royal order.”

“You could,” Jia-Li said, a grin creeping onto her face.

“And as students of the Royal Fire Academy for Girls, we are duty-bound to follow all royal orders,” you said.

“That we are,” she said.

“I think that means we have to participate,” you said.

“I think you’re right, Ursa,” she said.

“Of course, it’s not because we’re angry at Ruon-Jian or Chan or anything,” you said.

“Definitely not,” she agreed. “We’re just following in the prince and princess’s example.”

“That’s exactly correct,” you said. “After all, what are we but their humble and obedient servants?”

“Nothing, indeed!” Jia-Li said brightly. “All hail the royal family!”

With that, she ignited her hands and placed them right on a portrait of Chan as a child. You cheered before taking a steak knife and using it to cut up the curtains, tossing them into the fire she had started as kindling.

“I’m glad we’re friends, Ursa,” Jia-Li said.

“Yeah, I’m glad we’re friends, too.”

Ursa,

It wasn’t anything you did. I’m sorry; I was upset about something unrelated and took it out on you. You have no need to ask for my forgiveness — if anyone should be doing that, it’s me. Please, please forgive me for being so angry. I promise that I will make it up to you the next time we meet.

Yours, Zuko

P.S. I did not think that you and Jia-Li would join in, but I can’t say that I’m disappointed.

P.P.S. Ruon-Jian is ugly and his hair is terrible. You don’t need to be friends with him, anyways.

[joeyalohadream]

Little angsty, pining!Gale fic

Sat down to right something and wrote this instead. I don't usually write anything that's not at least somewhat fluffy, but it's the mood I'm in lately, I guess. LOL. Sorry, I'll be out of my funk soon, hopefully!

Takes place in England, vague-timeline, but before Regensberg.

AO3 Link

“I was so busy this afternoon, I didn’t even have time to eat a thing. This wine will go straight to my head.”

Her voice is musical, her laugh bubbles after it in a charming cadence. John’s eyes crinkle at the corners and the skin of his face stretches with the force of the smile he directs at the woman nestled under his arm in the booth. 

Gale had started his night nestled under that same arm, in that same booth. 

John laughs with her, a quiet, fond chuckle, and tells her that food is an important thing to make time for. He pinches her chin between two fingers and makes her head move to where he wants it to go, whispers something in her ear that makes her cheeks flame and then he turns away to laugh at something Curt says. Gale’s palms are sweating.

Two days ago, after interrogation, John had watched him, concern heavy in his blue eyes, as Gale had pushed the food around his plate. He’d kicked him under the table and nodded at the untouched food in front of him when he’d drawn Gale’s gaze and then he’d lectured him on taking better care of himself on the walk back to barracks. He’d also given him a chocolate bar that he’d pretended to pull from behind Gale’s ear. And smiled at him with fondness in his eyes as Gale savored the entire thing, refusing even a bite for himself.

It made Gale feel important in a way not much else did, having John’s focus, his care. It made him feel too much and crave more. It was dangerous. 

John hadn’t gone out that night. He’d stayed in with Gale when he’d said he needed a quiet evening and they’d played gin rummy and talked about everything except for the war. His attention hadn’t drifted from Gale once until they’d finally called it a night and gone to bed.

Gale had laid awake wondering if he would star in John’s dreams and then fallen asleep feeling foolish. 

Now, Gale watches this beautiful woman watch John and he recognizes the look in her eyes. She wants his attention back on her, doesn't want to share it with the other airmen. He wishes he couldn’t relate. 

“You know, I have a friend, still sippin’ her drink with the girls, waiting for a handsome pilot of her own.” She says the words too loud, but her goal is achieved as John’s head turns to follow the sound of her voice and just like that, she has John’s attention while Gale has everyone else’s. 

She eyes Gale with a smile, red lipstick making her teeth look bright white. Gale wants to tell her that John isn’t hers. That last week it was a different woman sitting in her place and tomorrow it will probably be another. He keeps his face impassive.

He tries not to squirm even as he chooses to stay silent instead of outright balking at the idea of entertaining a woman all night. The pretending is harder to stomach than solitude. The toothpick in his mouth needs to be replaced. It’s too saturated and frayed from the extent he’s been worrying at it. 

As always, John comes to his rescue. 

“Buck here has a beautiful girl back home.”

He doesn’t. 

“He won’t so much as dance with anyone that's not her.”

He says it like he always does, like he finds it endearing. Gale hates the way he wishes his voice held some kind of bitter emotion. But as always, it is just warm affection in his tone when Gale is the subject that colors his words. It had started making Gale’s chest flutter somewhere around the time of their first promotion.

And he’d desired that tone and the man it belonged too long before they were assigned to the 100th. Ignoring it hadn’t worked, so accepting it and letting it consume a part of him that would never be shared became the solution. 

It's why he broke it off with Marge before shipping out, though he didn’t tell John that. Didn’t tell anyone that. She still writes to him, still wants to be his friend, and it’s easy for the men to draw the conclusion that he is loyal to a sweetheart back home. 

The woman under John’s arm rolls her eyes and then forgets about Gale immediately. 

She’s laughing at all of his jokes. 

Even when John pulls out his best material, Gale makes sure to give him nothing more than a smile. He’s been unable to help himself and has allowed soft huffs of quiet laughter on occasions that are becoming less rare. But Gale has never given him a full bellied laugh. 

Maybe he should have. He knows it’s a goal of John’s, to make Gale smile, to make him laugh. 

She’s touching his chest, the side of neck. 

Gale allows himself to be touched by John. Not at first. Physical contact hadn’t been a part of his life in a positive way before he met John. It took a lot to get to the point where his best friend’s method of expressing friendship didn’t make him want to recoil, didn’t make him flinch. It took a lot, but it didn’t take a long time. By the third week in flight school, he was craving the soft touches and starting to hate himself a little for it. 

He hardly ever initiates the contact himself. He’ll give John’s shoulder a squeeze. Let his hand linger in his grasp for too long when they greet each other. 

Maybe things would be different if he let himself touch with the freedom in which John did. But affection was something he soaked up like a sponge when it was from John and wilted at when it was from others. And it was something he’d never learned how to give or take. Thinks maybe John could teach him but he knows he’ll never ask him to. 

But things wouldn’t be different. 

Because he watches John’s hand trail from her shoulder, down her back and to her hip, fingertips grazing the soft curve of her body on its way down. He watches John smile into her hair and whisper something into her ear again that makes her cheeks flush to match her lipstick and then nuzzle behind her ear. He looks away as John’s fingers trail the hem of her skirt. 

And he imagines doing that to Marge or the girl across the room and all it does is turn his stomach. 

So, nothing would be different if he were able to touch freely or laugh loudly. He’s different and John’s not, so he’ll settle it all back down in his chest and try to think about all of it less. 

But he doesn’t have to torture himself by watching where this night will lead his best friend, so he slides out of the booth and heads to the bar to pay. 

“What’s got you so glum, Buck?” Everett Blakely’s effusively kind voice sounds off as Gale pockets his change and he gives the other man a raised eyebrow. 

“Pretty sure this is just what my face looks like, Everett.” 

“Nah, sometimes you smirk a bit.” Everett grins at him. “Besides, it’s all in the eyes, and you’ve got sad eyes tonight, Major.”

“Think we’re all entitled to bad nights once in a while, given the circumstances.” Gale plucks a fresh toothpick from his pocket to replace the one he’d ruined, catches John leading the woman onto the dancefloor and can’t help but follow his movements with his eyes. 

He wishes he was normal enough that the lives of the twenty men they’d lost two days ago was what was twisting his insides. Instead, it’s watching his best friend do a perfectly normal thing - flirt and twirl a girl around. Both realities of his reasons for hurting live heavy in his chest, like they’re located in different chambers, blessing him with the opportunity to feel different types of agony instead of just your average layer of pain.  

“Gonna head out,” he says, nodding at Blakely, who lifts his glass in response. 

John is in rare form this evening, giving up on dancing quickly and already guiding the girl towards the back door without a glance in Gale’s direction. 

Because he’s normal. And normal men don’t think about their best friends when there’s a pretty girl hanging on their arm. 

Bucky probably expects Gale to be waiting for him when he’s finished. Waiting to walk back together at the end of the night. 

Or maybe he’s not thinking anything at all about Gale. 

He’s the first one back. He’s always the first one back. 

The shower room is vacant, and he takes his time, but he’s still alone when he makes his way back into the barracks. He’s still alone when he changes into his sleep clothes and lays in his cot. 

And he is still alone an hour later when sleep refuses to sink her claws into him and drag him to some kind of relief. 

Men slowly stumble in, and Gale closes his eyes, giving the illusion of slumber. He listens to the nightly routines of the men around him as they prepare for sleep, actions audibly clumsier than most nights in their inebriated states. 

But drunken movements disturbing a quiet room are something Gale’s been hearing since he was a boy, so he finds them familiar and ignores the way they make his stomach tighten unpleasantly in anticipation. 

More time paces, everyone settled into bed and Gale still can’t sleep.

Shuffling footsteps, intentionally quiet in their movements are the only thing that alerts him to John’s return. His cot is within arm’s reach of Gale’s own, but he’d thought it would remain empty tonight. The feeling of satisfaction that bubbles up in him is ugly and bitter, but he lets it boil under his skin as John returns to his side in the end. 

Heavy, scratchy wool glides up the length of his torso until it rests under his chin. Strong hands tuck it under his shoulder blades and his hips. He tries to keep his breathing deep, feigning the same familiar pattern of sleep he listens to from John’s bunk each night to lull himself to sleep. A moment later, calloused fingers brush the product-less bangs off his forehead and run through the length of his hair. 

The tender gesture almost forces his eyes open. That aching, craving hunger for more of what John will give him is a living thing in his chest. Those fingers ghost over his hair one more time and Gale uses every bit of strength in himself not to push up into the touch, not to whine when it’s gone.

He hears John let out a sigh that sounds mournful and he doesn’t understand what any of it means. 

As John moves, most likely to turn away, Gale can smell her perfume. 

If he opened his eyes he’d probably see her lipstick stained on his mouth, his neck. Knows with a gut-wrenching certainty that it’s probably stained in more intimate places, and he wishes John wasn’t too drunk to go take a shower. 

Wishes it wouldn’t linger on him. Wishes it wasn’t on him at all. Doesn’t want to see the red of her lips on John’s when the new day dawns. 

Imagines if it had been him under John’s arm leaving the pub, there wouldn’t even be a visible trace of him in the aftermath. 

He’d be forgettable, inconsequential. Easy to forget. Easy to regret. 

He keeps his eyes closed and wishes John hadn’t come back at all. Is so glad that he did. 

A softly whispered “goodnight, Buck.” is breathed into the stale air of the barracks, and Gale lays awake for a long time after John’s breathing evens out into sleep, wishing he could join him in more ways than one.

[pupyuqi]

★ casual⠀: ⠀Cho miyeon x fem!reader

— “ was it all just casual for you, miyeon? ”

🫀 warning : obvious comphet from miyeon, not so subtle hints of internalized homophobia, angsty yuri. half written. men dni.

word count: 814 words ⭑

-

Was it casual when you asked me to come over almost every single night just because you said you missed me?

“‘love of her life.’ cho miyeon, you’re gonna end up being the death of me.” you thought to yourself, miyeon knew you were gay, you were open about it, feeling as though there was no need to hide that part of yourself from the word because that part was undeniably you. miyeon on the other hand, she had felt attraction to girls, many times actually - though each time she did, she felt the need to hide, to leave like the coward she was.

-

was it casual when you had me come over while you were drunk and asked me to hold you close in my arms and begged me to never leave you?

“miyeon..” you dared to utter out as you felt the older girl’s hands clutch onto you tighter, so tight that you swore you were beginning to lose your breath. “.. hold me. please, n/n.. just hold me.” miyeon said, practically pleading with you. shaky hands moved to wrap around her as you held her. “never leave me.”

silence fell on the two of you as you two laid in the couch of her living room, the sounds of rain creating a sort of ambience for the two. “I won’t. i promise.” with that, miyeon looked up at you with glassy eyes, tears cascading down her face as it fell on your shirt. she leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss on your lips, a kiss that you reciprocated, as always.

-

Was it casual when you told me me that your friends knew about me? about us? was it casual when you called me your love?

-

was it casual when you said you wouldn’t wanna get married unless it was with me?

“Y/n,” You looked at her, her head resting peacefully on your chest as her fingers played with the hem of your shirt. “hm?” miyeon lifted her head to make eye contact, her gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips for a few seconds before she spoke.

“would you ever wanna get married?” her question caught you somewhat off guard though you brushed it off. “well.. yeah, sure, if i met the right girl, i think i’d be okay with marriage. what about you?”

miyeon stared at you for a couple of seconds, seemingly contemplating your answer as she bit on her bottom lip. “.. i don’t wanna get married.” she murmured, moving up a bit to tuck her head into the crook of your neck. “not unless its with you.”

you felt your breath get caught in your throat at her words, you could feel your face get hot and you swore miyeon could feel it too with the way she let out that adoring chuckle. “you’re so corny..” you said though your voice were barely audible. “maybe. but only for you.”

-

we’re we really just casual? I guess so.

-

-

“I guess it really was just casual, huh? maybe it was my fault for thinking we were more than friends, for thinking you genuinely wanted to be with me when this could’ve easily been another friday for you; or maybe it was your fault for treating me like that, for making me feel special, for making me think you liked me.”

[hatsukeii]

I think I'll be singing Velvet Ring on a microphone beaded with 'ex lovers' stickers and 'longing looks' beads. I've heard that Ushijima likes my music quite a bit~

too easy. the band you’ve joined is…

exes in my phone book / timeskip!ushijima wakatoshi x reader

genre(s): ex lovers to something?? something i guess?? pining, reminiscing, nostalgia fic tbh but ANGST ANGSTY ANGST WOO interpret the ending as you like because i kept it open for a reason

warning(s): slightly dysfunctional relationship dynamics kinda, lowkey suggestive at points, ushiwaka and reader were just young and stupid and in love but they couldn't seem to navigate it yknow, everything is also like somewhat/pretty ambiguous until the end but that's just how i like it

wc: ~1.7k

your first gig is… at a concert with your ex?!?!

setlist:

🎵velvet rings, big thief

🎵mayonaise, the smashing pumpkins

🎵black star, radiohead

There is a girl on a stage, who strums a pick through the strings of her acoustic guitar. A girl, whose lips hover just above the microphone that sits in a bracket, sighing into the cool metal for a final song. The people beside you have settled down, cheers and jumps reduced to swaying and mumbling.

You've been waiting for this song, haven't you?

The song strikes the ears first. The girl on stage, illuminated by a cone of light from above, sings of a night, thicker than a smoky fume. You mouth along to the lyrics, and your mind wanders to a place where your lungs are bloated, too full to carry anything more. A night beneath a buzzing streetlight, gravel that rolls and scrapes under the sweeping wind, ants that crawl onto the toecaps, under the soles, along the platforms of your unmoving shoes. A night of final breaths, and final words, and final sorrows. You're looking at the ground, your shadow muddied with the figure of another. You don't think he stares back at you. The ants keep crawling. They don't stop, even as you pivot away and leave your heart buried in the ground. The streetlight doesn't reach it again, but maybe it reaches his, still.

The faces around you hum along to a sequence, sway with the velvety strums of the girl's guitar, hold others tight against themselves. You stand alone amongst the crowd. You move when the rest of them will you to, only ever mouth to the lyrics, hold your hands close to your chest. You fear that your voice will give out if you try anything more.

"She's a beautiful performer, isn't she?"

The crowd does not shift their attention from the girl on the stage, so neither do you. She sings in gentle syllables of love, her heart pours out of her mouth. She longs for some fictitious persona, Ben, as her fingers play at the guitar like tugging the strings of a puppet. When you open your mouth, your heart is not there.

"She is. She really is." You respond to nothing but a sultry voice that finds its way into your ear canals.

The girl sings of a smoking gun, smoke that fizzles out from the barrel into night air, a bullet that falters at the end of its path to nothing in particular, a love that, for many nights before this, has begun to run dry. It's agonising, taunting, hopeful. It dies out in unanswered phone calls, drafted emails, text messages left unsent, collecting dust in a note-taking application. Words that ask a million questions.

Could we keep this going?

Is this really for the better?

Can't we try?

Why won't you just let me try?

"Why aren't you singing? It's the last song." The voice is anomalous amongst the crowd's united silence, his question stands out from those unsaid. He is too curious, yet for some selfish, twisted reason, you wish to indulge yourself. Wallow in sorrow. Take somebody else's beating heart to replace your own, that you buried beneath asphalt on a winter night of unasked questions turned two years of unspoken longing.

"For the same reason that you aren't, I'd assume." You silently hope he asks you for more.

The person huffs out a sigh, a short sigh that one lets out when they smile in defeat and surrender. He's close, his arm touching your own when he moves side to side with the crowd. His movement wills you to sway along. The girl on the stage sings of a gentle love, thick like a velvet ring. All encompassing, all powerful.

“Well, I once knew a person who loved this song.” He goes on. You stay silent, ears trained onto the words that paint golden silk and shimmering mist into the concert hall. A portrait of love that you have prayed to see once again, just out of grasp, but real enough to graze your fingers over. It sinks into your fingertips, takes you to a place where your hands could draw lines into tanned skin, hold onto a pair of strong arms, clasp together behind his broad shoulders. Beneath your feet, it travels to your ankles, wraps around your thighs, envelops you in a shroud of warmth. It comes in the form of his head laid in your lap after a long day, I love you mumbled into the flesh of your stomach in shaky sighs, calluses that roam every spot of skin on your body.

"Love really is a gentle thing, isn't it?" The lyrics are spoken out of your mouth naturally, like water running downstream in a creek. The person stays silent, you do the same. The girl's singing pierces through your ears to your throat, clawing at it as if to break it open and rescue something. He speaks before something can escape you.

"I haven't spoken to them since I left. Love is anything but gentle."

You wince, the girl's singing finally ripping through your windpipe. It doesn't stop there, to your surprise. It drills through to its final destination, and you grab the fabric of your shirt around your heart. You don't fully know the answer to your own question, but you believe in his despair. If love truly is gentle, it would have exited your chest when you screamed your throat hoarse for him to stay. It would have eased the pain, somehow. It would have sent your heart out to him even as he stood amongst giants, leagues greater than you. It would have sewn together your words, strung them into poems beautiful enough for him to say yes, I'll stay. I'll stay if you want, and I'll go if you want. Instead, you watch him on television every night, highlight reels, live volleyball matches. He left. You did not want him to.

"I haven't spoken to him since either. But I still think love is gentle. The painful kind."

The final chords of the song round off the set. The girl bows, and exits stage left. The crowd begins to loosen, yet the person's arm remains beside yours.

"Do you ever miss it?"

His number is still in your contacts. You struggle every night to hold off on pressing it. Your heart aches, and lights come on. You stare at an empty stage, and you envision yourself on it. Thousands of eyes watch you sing the song, yet you search the crowd for one pair only. You sing the words that you had once shown your love, a love that found you despite his duties, regardless of his glory, amidst his passion. You sing like you are begging for him to see you through the television, and turn around so the name Ushijima bares his face to you instead of his back. You cry out a story of a dying love, hanging onto frayed strings of memories and fear. The singing contorts into screaming at an empty crowd, as if your resolve could make Ushijima Wakatoshi find you again. You pretend to be his hands, hold yourself in your sleep. You hear his voice in your bed, on the streets, in front of you, behind you, beside you, even right here. You will never learn the lips of anyone else, not after his have taken you for himself. They feel like poison now, sinking into your veins from every part of your body that you inhibit. A poison that forces him into every corner of your life, and you are a fool enough to almost see him there.

"I want it gone, and I miss it all the same." You're crying now, and even your tears remind you of the love that taught you of its cruelty. You imagine a day when you wear another's ring on your finger, only to look up and see a blank face. There is no other.

"I think you should give him a call."

"I can't. I'd just hold him back."

"That's not true." His voice cracks, and his rebuttal is desperate, almost apologetic.

You turn to bid him farewell.

Ushijima is almost no different from how he was two years ago. But he's a little older now, a little taller too. His hair is the same olive green that used to run smooth between the webs of your hands. His voice is deep, rounder than it once was when he used to nip your earlobe and mutter professions of his love into your ear. You stare, but you don't know that he has been staring since halfway through the concert. You aren't seeing him through a television, he is no longer clad in a Schweiden Adlers jersey, his last name bears no weight here, in the space between the two of you. The days, and months, and years spent together come rushing into your head. A kiss on the forehead before separation, two pairs of feet running in wet sand that crumbles beneath their weight, sharing lunches in the silence of school rooftops, lips roaming every inch of each other on nights of longing. You, and Ushijima, and the pleads that lose their bodies when they fall back from your mouths and into your chests.

"Please, give me a call. Or a text. Or an email, I don't care. Just anything. I'm sorry."

"Goodbye, Ushijima."

You turn to leave, but you pull your phone out of your pocket to stare at his name in your contacts.

Ushijima watches your shrinking figure, all of his love trailing behind you, fading into smoke.

Your finger hovers above the red button that could end it all.

He can't seem to move, rooted into the ground of the now mostly empty concert hall. You are slipping away again, and he has learned from his mistake. He questions whether he's learned it a bit too late.

You turn off your phone, and shove it back into your pocket. He receives a text.

"I just want to take you home again."

author's note:

my sister gave me this idea a while ago and i just knew i had to make it so angsty sorry LOL she wanted a fluff ending but im the one with the document open so i can do what i WANT!! no i am actually very proud of this piece though and idk if this will get ANY exposure or interactions but just know that i really really loved writing this one

i also fear i lowkey forgot about longing looks and just went straight for longing…

also! song lyric references! if you catch them i'll give you a big fat kiss i love my music so much

anyways tags!!

@staraxiaa @catsoupki @chuuya-brainrot @hiraethwa @fiannee @bailey-reeds @4ngelfries @akaakeis @wyrcan @kuroppiii @zzwon

interested in joining a band? come on over to the build-a-band 900 !!