#sorry if my responses have been curt i just realized i have quite a bit of asks pilled up in my inbox 😭

[pendwelling]

I feel like Shin Yoosoung and Lee Gilyoung would just straight bite people for trying to touch Dokja’s waist and back

They’re practically his mini feral bodyguards

(This was meant for the TWSB au and Dokja in backless tops bc I’m OBSESSED but frankly it’s just basically cannon no matter the universe)

I AGREE like first he has adult self-proclaimed bodyguards (just overprotective weirdos /affectionate) but the true forces of nature would, naturally, be his children 😩🫶

[cavalierious-whim]

Childe hears Zhongli's voice for the first time and, oh, he's down bad.

You can also read here on AO3. Thanks to orokanacloud for collaborating with me and making such amazing spot art!

Zhongli lives in the sprawling apartment above his beloved bookshop. 

His mornings follow a simple routine: he wakes up before his alarm, body used to his preferred early mornings. If he slept in his bed, he sits up and looks over to the empty side, sighing softly as he swallows down his misery. It’s been long enough for the pain to have eased—and it has—but it’s the little things that he tends to remember. The soft dip of the mattress under another person’s weight is one of them. 

It’s why he prefers the couch even if it makes his back ache.

He’s a breakfast person, so he heads into the kitchen still in his pajamas. Takes the time to brew a pot of nice tea and sits by the bay window of his apartment that overlooks the Harbor. He sips and eats pastries with jam, watching the ocean waves. It’s quiet on this end of town, which he likes. 

This morning, he lingers, fingers curled around his steaming mug as he looks out the window. 

Childe. The mysterious man on the other end of the phone. Zhongli isn’t the type to open up to friends, let alone strangers but Childe made it easy to talk about the things that still hurt. And maybe it’s because they don’t know each other.

Zhongli figured there was no harm in chatting because they were likely to never talk again, but—

They texted all night. Zhongli feels better for it, like a weight in his heart has been lifted. He misses her—gods, does he—but he didn’t realize that he missed talking about her too. Childe didn’t judge. He let Zhongli ramble on and asked occasional questions, but—

It was nice. Zhongli typed until his thumbs cramped and his eyes burned from watching his phone screen too long. They bid each other good night and for the first time in what feels like eons, he fell asleep easily.

Another sip of his tea, the slightly-bitter tang of it washing over his tongue. He watches a neighbor hang a Yuletide wreath on their door. 

[Childe]: Hey, thx for telling me about her[Childe]: Good night and sleep well

The texts from the night before flashed in the dark as Zhongli stretched out on the couch and pulled a blanket to his chin. Zhongli woke up more rested than he has felt in years. 

His phone buzzes on the table and Zhongli figures it’s Xiao asking why he’s running late. He’s met with a surprise when he looks. “Oh,” he murmurs, his heart skipping a beat.

[Childe]: Good morning, Mr. Zhongli! [Childe]: Did you sleep well?[Childe]: (By the way, see? I can use proper grammar, thank you very much.)

Zhongli snorts, hiding a smile behind his palm. 

#

“You’re late,” says Xiao the moment the door closes behind Zhongli with a little ding of the chime.

Zhongli shrugs. “I live upstairs. It’s not as though I have far to go.”

“You’re never late. The only time you were—” Zhongli freezes at that and Xiao clams up. Xiao fidgets, pulling at his fingers. “Ah, sorry, I’m—”

“It’s fine.” Zhongli’s tone is curt, but not unkind.

 Xiao waffles back and forth with awkwardness. “Right,” he murmurs. “I’ll just—”

“Xiao,” says Zhongli, this time softer. “It was just a late morning for me. I slept in a bit and I enjoyed my tea. That is all.”

“A late…” Xiao’s expression shifts into something wary. “You do not have late mornings.”

“I did today.”

“You do not have—” Zhongli’s phone chirps and Xiao cuts himself off. The only person who texts Zhong is Xiao, so his gaze crinkles as his head tilts, his mouth dropping open in surprise. Zhongli casually looks at his phone, ignoring Xiao, laughing softly at the message. 

[Childe]: Oh good, you’re alive. [Childe]: Wouldn’t want you keeling over, or something.

Zhongli pens a quick response.

[Zhongli]: I might be older, but I’m not quite dead yet.

“What on earth—”

“A wrong number,” says Zhongli easily. “Think nothing of it.”

Xiao hesitates. “I—you know what? I don’t want to know. Just…let’s get the place open, yeah?” 

Zhongli doesn’t answer immediately, still staring at his phone. 

[Childe]: Thnk Celestia. Hate 2 lose a new friend

[Zhongli]: Have you given up on proper typing so soon?

[Childe]: Sry. Hands were cramping[Childe]: U dn’t have arthritis?

The smile on Zhongli's face is probably a red flag, but Xiao, wisely, doesn’t say anything.

#

Xiao isn’t the type to gossip but he lasts a surprisingly long time before he asks. 

“Spill,” he demands, dropping a plate of reheated leftovers onto the register counter in front of Zhongli, who blinks back, uncomprehending. Xiao grunts. “Don’t give me that look. You’ve been glued to your phone all day. Last time I checked, you were allergic to technology.”

He is not. Entirely. Zhongli takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I already told you—”

“Wrong number?” Xiao drawls. “Yeah, that’s what you said earlier.” A pause as he stabs at his own plate with a fork. They eat in the store because it’s never busy enough to bother customers, so Xiao just munches away as he carries on. “People don’t usually keep texting a wrong number back.”

“He—”

“He?” Xiao’s eyebrows raise. “That’s interesting. I assumed it was a woman—though maybe I shouldn’t have.”

“—is a friend,” finishes Zhongli with a glare. 

Xiao bursts into laughter. “You don’t have any friends,” he says around a mouthful of food. Zhongli cringes at the lack of manners but he also doesn’t know what else he expected from Xiao. “I’m not even your friend and we’ve worked together, what—over a decade?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” mutters Zhongli. “Of course, you’re my friend.”

“Fine then, I’m your only friend—and no, Xiangling doesn’t count.” 

“Ah, that reminds me.” Zhongli begins to dig in his back behind the counter. “She—”

“Stop changing the subject. What’s this guy all about?”

Zhongli hesitates as he sifts through his bag. He knows that Xiao won’t stop pestering him until he spills, so there isn’t a point in skirting around the truth. He’ll also know if Zhongli lies, or admits information, even if Xiao won’t call him out on it. He’ll just watch from afar, mouth pursed as he scans books whilst glaring at Zhongli and ignoring the customers. 

“I texted Guizhong.”

Xiao’s expression instantly changes. “Zhongli—”

“No, it’s fine. This is nothing new. I do it every year. Only, this time, there was someone on the other end.” Zhongli laughs, a soft and bitter sound. “I was angry at first. Or rather, not angry, but…” He waves vaguely and Xiao nods. “But he was kind and he asked about her.”

“And you just… told a stranger about her. Zhongli, that’s ridiculous.”

“Yes,” he agrees sheepishly. “Looking back it wasn’t smart.” Zhongli pauses and takes a bite of his food. “Do you remember what Guizhong used to say about gut feelings?”

Xiao doesn’t answer immediately. “‘Listen to your gut for you are the wisest person in your life’,” recites Xiao. 

“I’ve ignored it for a while—my gut, that is. I certainly haven’t wanted to listen to anyone lately. But this time…” Zhongli sighs in resignation. “I just had a feeling, and I think it was the right one.”

“Well, does the weird stalker have a name?”

Zhongli sniffs, offended. “He isn’t a stalker. His name is Childe.” Which sounds ridiculous and incredibly fake the moment he says it aloud. Xiao snorts, shoving another bite of food into his mouth, rolling his eyes when Zhongli reaches over to swat at him. 

“Well, your phone’s going off again. Better answer, otherwise he might think you’re dead.”

“You know, he said the same thing earlier—”

“Shit. Is he young?” Xiao’s eyes narrow, cat-like as he smirks. “Didn’t peg you as the type to rob the cradle.”

“I am not. And yes, he is a little younger—but older than you. He and I aren’t that different in age.” Much. Zhongli distinctly remembers there’s a math equation for this. He’ll have to look it up later.

Xiao hums, disbelieving. “Assuming he’s telling you the truth. For all you know he could be elderly and living in a home.” They both know that isn’t likely, though, and burst into laughter. Xiao nudges Zhongli with his elbow. “So, if you’re willing to chat with strangers, does that mean you’ll talk to the bank?”

“Xiao.”

“That’s a no then.” Xiao grabs a stack of envelopes from the shelf under the register and tosses them onto the counter. “Bills. Past due. You can’t ignore them forever.”

“I am not.” Xiao levels him with a knowing gaze and Zhongli sighs. “I won’t. Truly, Xiao, I have this handled.”

Xiao raises an eyebrow. “Do you? Because Pantalone left a message on the shop phone and he didn’t sound so happy. I don’t pretend to know the guy, but—”

“He agreed to give me some time. We’ll figure this out.”

“You’ll figure this out,” corrects Xiao. “Look, I love you, but this is your mess, not mine. I tried to help but you’ve gone and dug yourself deep and I’m too fucking short to pull you back out.” He taps the bills before standing. “At least open them. Do a little bookkeeping or something. Pretend that you care.”

“Xiao, I care.”

“Do you?” Xiao grabs his plate. “Because I feel like you stopped caring years ago and this place is nothing but an eyesore to you.” He says nothing else as he turns and leaves, heading into the back to clean his plate.

Zhongli stays there, sitting on his stool, picking at his cold food. Xiao is wrong, of course. The bookshop is his solace, the last thing of Guizhong’s that he lets himself keep. They opened this place together with their love for storytelling, keen on spreading that joy to anyone who walks through the front door.

But as someone steps in, the doorbell chiming crystal clear through the space, Zhongli feels resentment that he’s never quite noticed before. His days are long and lonely. He’d rather be upstairs, drinking tea and watching others. 

Perhaps Xiao is right. Then Zhongli’s phone vibrates. 

[Childe]: Lunch after noon? I thought old guys ate in the mid-morning. 

The tension in Zhongli eases as he shakes his head, chuckling softly. What a ridiculous thing to say. But also, what a ridiculous thing Zhongli does by answering. 

#

“Sooooooo, who’re you texting?”

“No one,” says Childe automatically. He’s staring at his phone, clearly typing out a message but it’s not as though he owes Venti an explanation for anything that he does. 

Venti lays on the break room couch, head hanging off the arm as he watches Childe with a narrowed gaze, mouth curved into a mischievous grin. “Did you download a dating app?”

“What? No!” Childe is nearly offended. He picks people up the good old fashioned way—at least, when he’s feeling like it. Hooking up through an app feels impersonal which is funny considering his newfound friendship with Zhongli. It doesn’t feel lacking in its depth, it’s strangely sincere despite how fresh it is. 

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” says Venti. “I’m just curious as to who you’ve been swiping right on—”

“Venti, I swear to Celestia, it’s not a dating app. I’m not swiping right on anyone.”

Venti’s expression curdles as he pities Childe. “Well, that’s a waste, isn’t it?”

“I’m not—” Childe pauses, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “I’m here to work, you know. I don’t need distractions.”

“Like whoever it is your texting.” There’s no judgment in Venti’s voice, he just states it plainly. “Childe, if it’s just a friend, that’s also cool. I’m just trying to make conversation.” He pauses as he flips over on the couch, laying on his stomach. “Also, I’m here if you need advice. I know you don’t really casually fuck, but—”

“Venti.”

Venti shrugs. “I’m just saying as a friend. I know you aren’t against hook-up culture but lately you’ve just been…” He waves vaguely. “The point is, I can tell you’re off. So I’m here, or whatever.”

Childe sighs. He knows that. As insufferable as Venti is, he’s more than just a coworker. And despite being a horrific drunkard, he has his moments of sound advice. Childe’s finger swipes over his screen as silence settles between them. Venti hums softly as he stares at the ceiling.

“It was a wrong number,” says Childe eventually. “Turns out the number I was given by the agency used to belong to this guy’s dead wife. He texted her a Merry Yuletide because it brings him comfort or whatever and I just…” Childe groans. “Man, it was depressing as fuck. I felt bad for him.”

“And so what, you’ve just been chatting ever since?”

Childe shoots him a sidelong glance. “I could just tell he was lonely, so I offered to listen. And shit, Venti, this guy—the way he talks about her. At first it was awkward, but then it was like, ‘Man, I actually enjoy reading this’... It’s like a storybook romance, the kind that everyone wants to experience. I figured he’d just thank me and that’d be it, but I checked on him the next morning and just—”

“What’s his name?”

“Zhongli.”

Venti snorts. “Sounds like he gave you his real name.”

“Yeah, he’s older and I don’t think that he thinks about stuff like that.”

“Older?” Another grin tugs Venti’s mouth wide.

“Archons, not that much older. He’s barely into his forties. And it’s not like I’m young.” Childe’s in the middle of his thirties and he’s just starting to feel it in his bones.

Venti tuts. “Yeah, I heard the casting director talk about how you’re getting past your prime.”

“You did not,” huffs Childe. But Venti’s look is mysterious and Childe knows the modeling world. He’ll always find work, but his heydays will soon be over. Who knows what Venti actually heard? Childe sighs again. “Look—”

“I think it’s cute,” cuts in Venti. “Like, I’m your friend but we’ve also fucked, so that makes it weird. You deserve a guy who’s just… I don’t know—genuine? You’re a good judge of character, so I trust this dude if you do.”

Does Childe trust Zhongli? Yes. He shouldn’t but he does. 

Venti watches him for a moment longer and then says, “So, are you going to fuck him?”

Childe, who just took a sip of water, nearly sprays it everywhere. He chokes, beating his chest to try and clear his airway. “Venti, he’s—”

“Don’t say straight. Just cause the guy married a woman doesn’t mean he isn’t equal opportunity.”

“He types with proper grammar. Like, actual punctuation. Long, carefully thought words and turns of phrase that I sometimes have to look up.”

“I’m just teasing you.”

Venti is not. Well, he is, but he isn’t. Venti has a particularly one track mind and it almost always ends up on the explicit end of things. 

“I didn’t come here for that,” says Childe quietly. He rests an elbow against the table, and his chin into his hand. His phone flares and chirps. 

[Zhongli]: Ah. I know a thing or two about vexing coworkers.  [Zhongli]: Just remember you will find reprieve when you go home.

Childe snorts, hiding a smile behind his hand. 

“How long have you been chatting, by the way?” Venti is genuine in his curiosity. 

“Like a week? Nearly a week.” 

It’s strange how it seems longer than that. Childe feels like he’s known Zhongli for years.  

#

Later that night, Childe lays in bed with his phone in hand. Zhongli takes forever to type out his messages because of his prim demeanor but Childe still waits on the edge, anticipating his next words. He doesn’t know why he’s so interested, he just knows that it’s comforting. 

Childe’s in Liyue for the holidays and doesn’t feel like spending the time with a coworker. Venti is fine but exhausting. Combined with their grueling hours, Childe’s patience is wearing thin. 

Zhongli, though— 

He’s patient. Kind. He blabbers on about whatever he likes and Childe just has to listen. Or not. If he doesn’t immediate respond, Zhongli pays it no mind. It’s easy-going and relaxed, which is a strange sort of comfort. Childe’s so used to having to network with everyone that the low expectations come as a welcome thing. 

[Zhongli]: You would be surprised by just how difficult running a bookshop is. There are many factors involved. For one, the tastes of clientele widely vary. It’s a guessing game when it comes to stock.

Childe grins. Zhongli talks about his work with such fondness that he can’t help it, sucked in by how his messages seem so animated. More messages, more little dots, insufferably long paragraphs of overly descriptive explanations. 

“It’s not like it’s interesting,” he mutters to himself. Oh, but it is. It’s a glimpse into a world that Childe doesn’t know much about, and Zhongli sharing it willingly helps settle a lot of Childe’s unconscious anxiety.  

He hasn’t shared what he does, not yet. Childe relishes the fact that Zhongli doesn’t know who he is and wants to keep it like that for as long as possible. 

Eventually, Childe’s eyes start to droop. The screen of his phone is a little too bright in the dim room and he rubs at his face. He doesn’t want to stop chatting, though. He’s tired but won’t sleep. So, he stares at his phone, finger hesitating before he types.

[Childe]: feel free to say no but[Childe]: wld u rather talk on the phone? Ur hands must be sore from all the typing

Three dots appear and then disappear. Childe’s gut curdles, worried that maybe he’s crossed a line. 

But then his phone rings, the caller ID showing that it’s Zhongli. Childe hesitates even though he initiated this. Zhongli is still a voiceless man behind a screen but the moment he answers, all of that changes. 

He answers. 

“Ah, Childe. I was worried that perhaps you’d changed your mind.”

Oh. Oh. Childe’s mouth goes dry at the sound of Zhongli’s voice. Deep and mellow, an addicting baritone. He isn’t sure what he expected—maybe higher pitched and tinny. Older? Maybe even whiny, but— 

“Hah, yeah, I—sorry I thought you’d message back first, not—” Childe swallows. “Doesn’t matter. I just… I just like hearing about your day. So just… whatever you want to talk about.” Because shit, Childe could listen to him drone on forever.

“I don’t want to bore you.”

“I promise you that you won’t.” Childe thinks he could listen to Zhongli describe paint drying and be into it.

Venti teased him about this, laughing about how it could be more. And, Celestia above, Childe isn’t looking for something. But there’s no denying that Zhongli calms him. It’s been a week and he hasn’t lost interest. He looks forward to their exchanges. 

A quiet sigh from the other end of the phone. “I see. Well, let me tell you about this order that I just placed. I doubt that these books are the sort of material that you enjoy, but nonetheless…”

Zhongli keeps talking, his mouth curling around his words, lilting as his tone rises and falls. Childe switches his phone to speaker mod and settles it near his ear. He closes his eyes and listens, letting Zhongli’s voice lull him into a doze. 

That first night when Zhongli talked about his wife, Childe had the distinct thought that they had a storybook romance, the type that feels like a fairytale. But here, as Childe listens to him, his chest feels light. His heart jumps into his throat and his cheeks feel like they burn pink. 

Love at first sound, he thinks. Surely not. Childe isn’t lucky enough to fall so easily into that sort of trope.

But the idea of it is appealing.

[gauri-vishalakshi]

Finding My Way To You

Part 2.5

You walked into the messy apartment, stepping gingerly as to avoid stepping on a book. It had been two days since your marriage, and some people Ram’s babai had hired had just left all of your belongings inside Ram’s (now yours as well) house.

Ram gestured at one of the two doors. “That room’s yours. The one to the left is mine.” He moved to leave, but stopped and turned back around. “I forgot to mention this, but there’s only one shower. There are two bathrooms, but one has no shower so we’ll have the share the shower.”

On that note, he sat down at the chair by his desk in the corner of the main room, steepling his fingertips as he seemed to analyze you shrewdly. “So I assume you’ll want to know about my job?” To be honest, you didn’t really care, but he kept on going anyway. “I am a British officer, and I’m working on an important mission right now. That’s all you need to know.”

Your expression didn’t even change, as you had gotten used to his curtness by now. It wasn’t that you excused it, of course (you were still pissed off because of the whole “fake wife” business), but you had quite frankly stopped caring. You plopped yourself down onto the ground, picked up the nearest book-The Mysterious Affair at Styles by Agatha Christie-and started reading it.

The two of you sat comfortably that way for hours, Ram writing, his pen scratching on paper, you reading, the pages of your book crinkling, finding quietude in the other’s presence (or perhaps in each other’s silence, for one of the two of you always seemed to be insulting the other). Ram, who had been hunched over his journal (‘Wonder what that’s about.’ You had thought to yourself. ‘Maybe he has some deep emotional issues.’), looked up in surprise as you gasped, shocked at the reveal of the criminal in the gripping detective novel you had been immersed in.

“Sorry.” You muttered as you flipped the page. “You can read?” Ram asked, a hint of incredulity in his voice. “Excuse me? Can I read? What do you think I’m doing, looking at pictures? Because this book doesn’t have any pictures, asshole! Who do you think I am, some uneducated-” “No! I didn’t mean it that way! It’s just, the way your uncle is, I thought he wouldn’t have let you-” “Study?” You interrupted him (totally not because he had interrupted your usual rant about being assumed as illiterate just because you were a woman and you just had to get even). “I fought with my family to go to school up to twelfth grade, and secretly enrolled in a night-class program at a medical university nearby. I’d slog at my house all day, being the perfect little airheaded woman whose only duty is their home, and spend all night doing what I truly loved.”

Ram (astonishingly) listened without comment, a small smile slipping onto his face before he seemed to realize you’d taken notice of it, and it disappeared again. Without even a response to your passionate spiel, your “husband” turned back to his work, much to your annoyance. You had just told Ram a bit about your life, and you didn’t even get a basic nod in return? Biting your lip to keep from saying something you’d regret, you turned to the next page, once again rapt in Agatha Christie’s compelling storytelling, though the memory of the little smile-the first smile-you had received from your husband wormed its way into your mind-and your heart.

A/N: Part 2.5 is out! I'm so glad y'all are liking this so far! @manwalaage @lil-stark @thewinchestergirl1208@contemporarykafka @aurora2238@maraudersfansassemble@itsfookingloosah @rambheem-is-real@adrakchutneyofficial @darlingletshurttonight @seherie@redirection04 @ramayantika @how-is-it-in-london @crystalchrysalis19 enjoy!! (please let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

[ventismommy]

alright, you guys voted, so it’s time...

SIREN SONG PT 2- XIAO

As soon as you realized what you’d caught in your net, you scrambled to undo the ties on it, setting the merman free. But despite your hard work, the merman who rolled out of the net- a small, slim one with a deep green eel’s tail and spiky black and green hair- still glared at you with his unsettling yellow eyes.

“I am so so sorry-“ you rushed to say, but then realized he wasn’t even paying attention anymore- instead, he was looking over his tail and wincing, and to your horror, when you looked where his eyes were pointed, you saw a gash in his beautiful scales. It must have come from the hook used for holding up the net and pulling it up on deck.

Rushing over to him and kneeling, you went to look at his injury- but he only hissed and flinched away from you. You realized you’d moved too fast, possibly startling him, and went to approach the wound again, slowly this time. He still watched you with cautious eyes, but he let you look it over this time.

“I’m so sorry,” you said again, and he grunted out a gruff ”s fine.” Looking up at him in surprise, you started to notice more things about him- the little purple diamond on his forehead, the way his hair stuck out in little pointed, wispy strands.

”Can I...can I take you to the infirmary to bandage it up?”

He looked a bit affronted by the suggestion at first, but after a moment and a deep sigh, he nodded. When you carefully scooped him up, he gripped your arm right, but refused to wrap his arms around you.

You carefully carried him to the ship’s infirmary, setting him down on a bed to go and find supplies. At least your efforts at casual conversation weren’t completely wasted.

”My name’s (Y/N). What’s yours?”

”Xiao.”

His response was short and curt, but that didn’t deter you from asking why he’d been swimming so close to the ship. He didn’t answer that, though; instead he commented on how stupid you must be to have caught him in the net. You just sighed in response, finally coming back over with the necessary supplies and setting them down.

Carefully, you cleaned out the wound with a soft cloth and a bottle of the only alcohol on board that Beidou hadn’t gotten to. He hissed and gripped the edge of the bed, but seemed oddly soothed when you smiled apologetically at him and awkwardly patted his shoulder. Once you were finished, you gave a short little chuckle and rubbed the back of your neck.

”Uh, could you...l-lie back for me...”

He rolled his eyes, but did as you asked, though his entire body seemed tense and nervous. “Relax,” you said softly, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Reaching for the bandages, you started to cover the gash with cloth, working around the way he flinched away. But finally, he was moving too much, and you reached up, placing a hand firmly on his chest and pushing him down against the mattress. “Hold still.”

And he gave a soft gasp.

You froze for a split second before deciding to continue working as if you hadn’t heard anything. But in truth, that sweet little gasp occupied your mind for the rest of the time you spent bandaging his cut.

He sat up when you were finished, looking slightly embarrassed. “Y-you just couldn’t keep your net to yourself,” he said, intending to sound rude, but there was no heart behind it.

And with everything going through your head, the fact that he was utterly adorable, and the fact that you hadn’t gotten laid in nearly a month thanks to Beidou, you decided, fuck it. Literally. “Let me make it up to you.”

You approached him ever so slowly, giving him every opportunity to back away. But he didn’t- his eyes stayed glued to your lips as your face drew closer and closer to his until finally, finally, those same lips pressed against his.

He didn’t kiss you back at first, only reached up to grip your arms in surprise, but before long his little tongue was poking at the space between your lips as you kissed him. One of your hands rested on the bedsheets as you leaned over him, and the other rested on his waist.

But you remembered how he had gasped when you touched his chest, and archons, you wanted to pull more of those sweet sounds out of him, and so your hand wandered upwards, over his chest. Xiao jerked in place, a soft squeak escaping his mouth before he relaxed into your touch. Your hand moved to the side of his chest and you ever so carefully traced your thumb around the edge of his nipple. He gasped again, and you smiled against his lips at your victory- though there’d never been a competition over making him gasp again.

He gave a near-silent dissatisfied whine when you pulled away from the kiss, but that quickly dissipated as your mouth latched onto his collarbone, nipping and sucking little marks into the pale flesh. He gasped once more and gripped your arms tighter, trying to pull you closer to him, but you ignored that in favor of pushing him down onto the bed and letting your mouth trail lower, lower, until your tongue flicked over his other nipple, and you got your first real moan out of Xiao.

If someone had said to you not five minutes earlier that all it would take to get the surly, rude little eel merman you’d fished out of the surf to be writhing underneath you was your mouth all over his chest, you wouldn’t have believed them.

And yet here you were, leaning over Xiao as he squirmed with each bite mark you left on his chest, getting closer and closer to the edge of his scales, which were already starting to recede. He just couldn’t seem to keep still- he kept gripping your arms and alternating between pulling closer and trying to push you away with little whines of “n-not yet-“ that were barely coherent. You didnt understand what they meant, but you at least knew he didn’t actually mean he wanted you to stop, given that he kept pulling you back. So you kept going, biting and kissing the pale skin of his stomach and chest as you made your way down to where those scales had finally receded to his mid thigh, showcasing a flushed, hard cock and the beginnings of two human legs.

And then, before you could even think about sliding down lower, he jerked up underneath you, hips stuttering up as his back arched, and you realized, holy fuck, he just came untouched.

You pulled away from him to look at him in awe, only to find his face flushed and embarrassed, looking away from you. Xiao seemed humiliated about the whole experience, and it made your heart melt as you leaned up to his face. You planted a kiss right on his forehead and whispered to him.

”Don’t be embarrassed, love. That was adorable.” And then you were sliding down, down again, this time to wrap your lips around his cock, and he whimpered and cried out, his hands flying to tangle themselves in your hair. His hips bucked up into your mouth desperately, but you didn’t bother trying to punish him for it- after all, you were already overstimulating him, and he was taking it so well...you bobbed your head up and down, taking him into your mouth, slowly at first but speeding up with each moment. Your tongue ran over the prominent vein on his side, making him sob out, and what he said caught your attention.

“(Y-Y/N), please-“

You just had to indulge him.

Your mouth worked faster over him, tongue sliding briefly over his tip each time you came up, and your hand helped his tail tilt upwards as you came up for air to spit on your fingers. Then, as you took him back into your mouth, those spit soaked fingers circled around his hole. With a cry, he pushed into those fingers as if begging you to fuck him with them, and how could you refuse? So you carefully slid one, then two into him, curling them and working to find the perfect spot to tip him over the edge. Which, if the way he was moaning and jerking in your hold was any indication, he was quite close to.

You finally found that spot, and his hips jumped up almost immediately as you pulled off of him. Xiao moaned out loudly and attempted to rock back on your fingers, so desperate for more. And more he got; then with one, two, three thrusts of your fingers, he was gone, arching up again and cumming so hard his vision went white. You helped him ride out his orgasm with your fingers, and then, while he was still out of it, started working to clean him up and care for him.

When he came back to, there you were, cleaning the cum off of him with a soft, wet cloth and smiling lovingly at him. He chose not to even try to keep up that surly front, instead giving you a soft whine and reaching his arms out as if to say “hold me please“.

Once you had him cleaned off, you obliged, pressing a kiss to the side of his face, and he smiled the tiniest little smile you’ve ever seen, cuddling into you as you laid down beside him on the infirmary bed.

“Maybe you should stay until that gash is healed? To be safe?”

”Yeah...”

What you didn’t say is that you hoped he’d stay much, much longer than the amount of time it took to heal, and what he didn’t say was that he would have stayed forever if you let him.

[angelicyoongie]

Out of the Woods (II)

— pairing: wolf hybrid namjoon x human f!reader — genre: fluff, angst, slight smut — word count: 5.5K — warnings: injury, blood, mentions of past abuse — summary: Promising Jihyo that you were going to stay away from your writing for one weekend had been easy in theory, but much harder to actually do once you reached the little cabin the woods. To make matters worse, the only thing that rivals your inability to keep promises is your terrible luck – and after a particularly bad choice leads you to get lost in the mountains, you suppose that it's only karma that you end up face to face with a wolf that looks ready to rip your throat out.

Part I / II / III

You stare at the hand wrapped tightly around yours as the wolf hybrid leads you down the rest of the slope. You can still feel the imprint of his chest against your back, the lingering heat from his body still wrapped around yours. The ghost of his raspy, smooth voice brushing over your ear, his words branded into your chest.

Please don’t leave me.

You wince with each step, the dull pain in your ankle growing harder to ignore. You can see the muscles in his golden arms tense as your step falters, the wolf hybrid’s grip tightening before you can stumble down the last stretch of the incline. He’s keeping your hand almost at height with his shoulders, making it easier for you to borrow some support as you hobble forward.

You keep yourself focused on his hand, on how his long and slender fingers are enveloping yours. They’re a little rough against your skin, but they’re still pretty. Your cheeks are flushed red as you limp forward, but you blame that on the near death experience you just had – and certainly not on the hybrid’s thumb absentmindedly running over your knuckles every few steps. And it’s definitely not because the man in front of you is completely naked. The close proximity means that the expanse of the hybrid’s broad back fills most of your vision, but you’re not willing to take any chances. His body isn’t there for you to ogle at. So, his hand is a good, safe, place for you eyes to latch on to. The hybrid clearly doesn’t have any qualms about his lack of clothes, and it makes you wonder just how long he’s been out here on his own – how long he’s been alone.

You swallow thickly as the ground underneath your feet begins to flatten out, the strain on your ankle becoming a little less painful. You can probably walk on your own now, but it doesn’t seem like the wolf hybrid has any plans of letting you do that, his fingers wrapping even more firmly around yours as you try to let go of his hand. You see a few faint marks on the inside of his wrist, but the angle his hold your hand makes it too difficult to make anything out. If anything, it’s likely just some scratches from the wilderness. You can’t help but notice that one of his gray ears seem to be permanently turned in your direction, only twitching when you let out little huffs of air.

He hasn’t spoken since he uttered those four words – not since he begged you to stay, and the only thing you could think to do was shakily step out of his embrace and ask him to bring you back down. You can’t stay. You're not quite sure why the realization makes you feel so torn. Sure, the hybrid has taken care of you, but you don’t really know him. Hell, you don’t even know his name. But still, your heart stutters painfully as you remember the desperation in his voice, the subdued whine that escaped his lips as you pulled away. The hybrid had only given you a curt nod in response to your request, his back turned to you and hand outstretched before you could even get a good look on his face.

You sneak a quick peek at his profile as he helps you along the path, your breath getting caught in your throat as you catch a glimpse of his strong jaw and oh no, is that a dimple? The wolf hybrid’s silver ears and messy hair compliments his sunkissed skin beautifully, and there is no doubt in your mind that this man must be stunning. Maybe it’s a good thing you haven’t gotten a good look at his face yet, getting weak in the knees sounds like bad plan when you’re already one foot down. You quickly push the thoughts away, turning your attention back to the forest in front of you. You swear something about it looks a little more familiar than before. You only need to hobble through the forest for another few minutes before you realize why.

The wolf hybrid has lead you straight to the lake you and Jihyo passed two days ago, the exact one you were trying to find when you managed to get lost. The weather might be slightly gloomier today, but it still looks absolutely breathtaking as you draw closer. The tension in your shoulders ease up as you realize just how close you are to the cabin, it probably won’t take much longer than an hour to get back even with your throbbing foot. Which is great, but the release of tension also makes you acutely aware of just how irritated your ankle truly is, and it feels like it might break clean off if you don’t get a break soon.

“Can we, uh, rest for a little while? My foot ..” You trail off uncertainly, watching as the hybrid’s head cocks in your direction. He stops in his tracks, ears swivelling around rapidly as he listens to the forest, his grip still tight around yours. He gives you another nod after a few seconds of silence, steering you carefully over to a fallen log. You close your eyes in relief as you sit down, a groan falling from your lips as you finally get the chance to alleviate the pressure on your ankle.

“Thank you,” You murmur, glancing down at your foot as you try to best position to rest it in. You freeze as you see the wolf hybrid’s bare feet out of the corner of your eye, heat creeping up your neck as you realize the position you’ve put yourself in. You’re at eye-level with his dick. There’s no way to look up at him without seeing it, and that’s not something you want to deal with right now.

“Here," You hastily shrug off your windbreaker, offering it out for the hybrid with a grimace, “you can use it to cover up.” Rough fingers brush over your own as the wolf hybrid grabs your jacket, presumably–hopefully–wrapping it around his waist as you keep your eyes firmly on the ground. You don’t dare lift your gaze until the hybrid sinks down on the log next to you with a huff, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest as you find his eyes already locked onto your face. 

The wolf hybrid is beautiful. Your lips part open in surprise as you take in his face, the slight pout to his lips and the gentleness in his expression leaving you a little breathless. He looks kind. Sweet. You don’t understand how someone like him could be left out here all alone.

“I-I'm sorry,” The wolf hybrid cowers under your stunned gaze, his ears falling flat against his head. “Should I stay .. wolf? You upset,” His voice is hoarse and pained as he stutters out his words, his lips forming awkwardly around the syllables. The intention behind his words hits you like a slap to the face. He thinks you don’t like his human form, and he’s willing to turn back to not make you upset.

“No!” You blurt, “I mean, I’m uh, not upset. If you want to, please stay in your human form. It’s nice to be able to talk to you.” The wolf hybrid doesn’t quite seem to believe you, his ears pressing even flatter against his head as he shakes his head.

“What’s your name?” 

The hybrid's mouth is pressed into a thin line, and for a second you think he might not answer, but then he mutters out a soft, “Namjoon.”

“Namjoon?” You echo, finding you like the way his name rolls off your tongue. The wolf hybrid’s ears perk up at the sound of his name, the bushy tail behind his back doing a startled wag as Namjoon’s eyes find yours. You give him a soft smile, rubbing your hands nervously at your thighs as you finally ask the question that has been burning away at your curiosity for the past few hours.

“Why are you out here all alone?” The muscles in Namjoon's shoulders tense at your question, the warmth in his golden brown eyes hardening into something you can’t quite decipher. The wolf hybrid looks ready to bolt any second, his eyes flickering around the forest as he says, “Ran way .. bad place. No going back.”

You detest that you’re not even surprised, that the mistreatment of hybrids is so common that it has become almost more normal than treating them like actual human beings. The wolf hybrid looks to be your age, maybe even a little older, and it makes your stomach drop to think about just how many years he must’ve spent out here in his animal form for speech to become this hard – for it to become a struggle.

“I’m so sorry Namjoon, it must’ve been hard being all alone up here,” Your fingers twitch against your thigh, resisting the urge to reach out for him.

“Not alone now, have you,” Namjoon’s raspy voice sends a shiver down your spine, the certainty laced with his next word making your heart skip a beat. “Pack.” The wolf hybrid carefully reaches out for your hand, slowly wrapping his fingers around yours as he watches your mind trying to process his words.

You know it normally takes a long time for a hybrid to consider someone, especially humans, to be a part of their pack, so the fact that Namjoon refers to you as his after only a few days leaves you stunned – and a little bit out of your depth. Then again, Namjoon’s situation isn’t exactly normal. Usually hybrids are much more in-tune with both their human and animal side, but from what you can gather, it doesn’t seem like Namjoon has tapped into his humanity in years. It would make sense for his animal instincts to be more dominant, for doubt and hesitation to take a backseat. But still, his pack?

You catch the slight motion as the wolf hybrid’s eyes stray to your neck, the memory hitting you at full force now that you realize the implications behind your actions. In the midst of your panic when you thought Namjoon was going to tear you limb from limb, you had bared you neck. You had submitted. And Namjoon had accepted you. You wince, sucking in a deep breath as unease swirls in your stomach. Even if you weren’t aware of what you were doing at the time, this is still your fault. You really want to fix this whole mess, but you fear that the one thing you can’t do for him, is the only thing the hybrid wants.

“Namjoon,” You hesitate as you feel his tail wag happily against the log, the words feeling heavy on your tongue as you say, “I can’t stay.” A lull falls over the forest as the rhythmic thumping stops, the grip around your hand slackening as the wolf hybrid hangs his head.

He keeps his eyes on the ground as he whispers out a broken, “Don’t go.” You feel your heart ache as you watch him open and close his mouth, the furrow between his brows deepening as he can’t seem to find the words he needs. “Take care of you. Please.” You think it might hurt less if you just let the wolf hybrid rip you to shreds instead, the pained desperation in his voice making you eyes sting.

“I’m sorry,” You mutter, “I need to go home.” The word leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. Home. At the start of your trip you couldn’t wait to return to your apartment, but when you really think about it, have you ever truly considered it home? Sure, you've managed to make it nice and cozy over the last years, but there’s no warmth there, no sense of belonging. Still – you can’t stay here in the mountains.

Namjoon’s ears are pressed flat against his head, his expression turning blank as he withdraws his hand. “Okay,” The wolf hybrid’s jaw is tense as he stares out at the lake, his gaze empty and distant. You ignore the throbbing in your foot as you clamber back up to your feet, taking a few steps forward as you take in the sight of the lake for the last time. The scattered wildflowers don’t seem as charming anymore, and the large body of water suddenly feels more imposing than welcoming. You freeze as Namjoon lets out a low groan, the sound suddenly transforming into a whimper behind your back. You nearly jolt out of your skin as something wet touches your hand, a warm breath spilling across your fingers as you look down. You meet Namjoon’s golden eyes, the wolf letting out a small huff before he nudges your windbreaker closer to your feet. You don’t know why it feels like a defeat that he transformed back, but you can’t shake the hollow feeling in your chest as you thread your fingers into his fur, jacket wrapped around your waist as he leads you back to the cabin.

The wolf’s ears starts to flicker a few minutes before you can pick up Jihyo’s frantic speech in the distance, the dark roof of the cabin coming into view. You’re a little off the trail, the forest much denser around this side of the clearing. Namjoon suddenly halts as he reaches the edge, and you wince from the extra force on your foot as you stumble to catch yourself. The wolf’s tail is tucked between his legs, a pitiful whimper filling the silence as you gently untangle your hand from his fur. You brush it down carefully, already missing the coarse yet soft hairs tickling against your skin as you take a step back.

“Thank you Namjoon,” You swallow around the lump in your throat, forcing your lips into a soft smile as you gaze down at him. The wolf turns his head back to the forest, golden eyes scanning the area before he quickly pushes his head against your hand, guiding your palm over the fur between his ears. Your knees go weak with fondness as you pat his head, the wolf swiping his tongue over the exposed skin of your wrist as you scratch behind his ears. It’s Namjoon that reluctantly pulls away first, his golden eyes soft yet sad as he pushes his snout one last time against your palm. He sits down with a huff, turning his head in the direction of the cabin. The message is clear; he’s not leaving until you are. The goodbye grows and dies in your mouth, your lips refusing to let it slip past as you look down at him. You spare him one last glance, trying to commit as much of him to memory as you can, before you stumble out of the tree line.

It only takes a few steps before you hear Jihyo’s shrill, “Y/n!” and you watch as your friend sprints across the field to meet you. Jihyo knocks into you so hard you nearly topple over, her arms wrapped around your body so tightly you almost fear she’ll squeeze you to death.

“Where were you? What happened? Oh my god, you’re hurt!–” You let Jihyo’s concerned rambling distract you from the empty feeling in your stomach, each step feeling heavier than the last as she helps you walk back to the cabin. You spare one last glance over your shoulder, hoping to maybe see a flash of silver through the trees, but there’s nothing.

Namjoon is gone.

And you’re both alone again.

It was all a rush after you returned. Jihyo had been searching for you night and day, a few of her father’s best employees helping out. The road up to the cabin had been cleared, so instead of having to trek down on your sprained ankle, Jihyo had whisked you away in a car with the destination set for the closest hospital. It took a while before you could collect your thoughts enough to tell her what happened, the words sounding ridiculous even to your own ears as you retold the story.

Jihyo had a deep frown on her face from the hospital to your apartment, uncharacteristically silent as she helped you to your couch. Sinking down on the mountain of plush pillows felt like heaven after sleeping on the ground for two nights, your limbs tired and aching. You really need a shower, but the temptation to rest your foot for an hour is frankly too strong. You watch as Jihyo raids your fridge for drinks and food, the frown not leaving her lips until you’ve stuffed your face with a sandwich.

“Why didn’t you just ask him to come with you?” You nearly choke on a piece of bread at her sudden question, quickly taking a sip of water to chase it down.

“What do you mean?” You croak.

“Well, it’s not like he specifically asked you to stay up in the mountains right? He only asked that you would stay with him. I’m not sure how much I like this, but he did take care of you, and he brought you back safely. If he wanted to hurt you he had many opportunities to do so,” Jihyo purses her lips, her eyes flickering around the room. 

"You seem .. smitten. I can remember the last time you looked so fond talking about someone else. It seems like he already considers you to be his pack, so if you want to, I don’t see any harm in asking him to come home with you,” You feel a steady blush rise in your cheeks as Jihyo talks, your heart skipping a beat at the thought of having Namjoon here in your apartment. You couldn’t ..

"It’s not natural or healthy for hybrids to be alone and shifted for such a long time, so you would honestly be doing him a favour. Even if he doesn’t stay with you, he needs to get checked-up.” You find yourself nodding along to Jihyo’s words before you can stop yourself, her eyebrows rising in amusement. She is right, after all. Even if Namjoon doesn’t want to stay, it’s important to make sure he’s healthy. Even you go in for yearly check-ups, and you’re sure it’s been far too long since Namjoon did the same. You have to go back and find him.

“But–” Jihyo presses a finger to your chest, “you’re not going anywhere yet. The doctor said full rest for a week, so that’s what you’re going to do.” She shakes her head before you can protest, giving you a stern look as she says, “You’re in no condition to go after him now, you need to heal up if you want to find him again. I’ve seen enough animal planet to know that wolves have pretty big territories, and you won’t be able to cover that much ground with a sprained ankle.” You sink back down in the couch with a disgruntled sound, hating the fact that she’s completely right. You’ll have to wait until you’ve healed. You just hope it won’t be too late.

“Namjoon?” You wince at the rawness in your throat, your voice ringing through the silent forest. You’ve been out here for hours, but no matter where you go, there’s no sign of the wolf hybrid. You even managed to get back to the little cave Namjoon had brought you to, but that too was completely untouched. The only trail you had is dead. The area you’ve ventured into is much denser and harder to navigate, but you refuse to leave until you find him.

You grumble under your breath as a branch almost whacks you straight in the face, and you push it away with a little more force than necessary as you trek on deeper into the woods. Your ankle has healed up nicely, but there’s still a dull ache from the amount of walking you’re putting yourself through. The sprain wasn’t all that bad; it was mostly just the fact that you kept aggravating it that made it so painful. A week of rest did you wonders, and a little bit of discomfort is a price you’re more than willing to pay if it means you’ll find Namjoon again.

“Namjoon?” You call out again, halting in your tracks as you strain to listen for any sounds out of the ordinary. You let out a sigh at the silence that greets you, shaking your head lightly as you take a step forward. You freeze as your foot connect with the ground, a distant howl echoing through the forest. Namjoon.

You can barely even hear the second howl over the frantic beat of your own heart as you take off, stumbling and tripping over roots and twigs as you run in what you hope is the right direction. The mountain is disorienting at best, but you have no fear of getting lost this time. Jihyo made sure you would be properly prepared. 

It’s not until the fourth howl that you realize two things – one, the sound is much closer than you anticipated, and two, it sounds pained. You urge your legs to move faster, your gaze shifting wildly over your surroundings as you call out for him again. You swear you see a flash of silver behind a cluster of trees, and you quickly switch your direction, running straight for what you hope is the wolf hybrid.

“Namjo–” You choke as you skid to a stop, your stomach dropping so fast it leaves you feeling dizzy.

Blood. There’s so much blood. Namjoon’s gray fur is stained with it, the hairs matted and red. You can see the rusted metal of an old bear trap clamped tightly around one of his hind legs, the bone snapped in an awkward angle. Oh god. A pained whine rips you out of your building panic, and the sight of the wolf hybrid attempting to drag himself closer to you despite the trap on his leg finally jolts you back into action.

“No no no, stay still!” You cry as you scramble forward, your stomach doing a dangerous flip as the metallic scent of Namjoon’s blood washes over you. The wolf hybrid is panting as you drop to your knees in front of him, his ears plastered against his skull as he lets out low whimper.

“It-it’s going to be okay,” You hear your voice tremble as you reach out for his head, gently cupping his cheeks between your hands. Namjoon lets the tension in his neck drop the moment you get your hands on him, his head heavy in your hold as you run your fingers over his fur. The wolf hybrid’s body is shaking, his golden eyes barely open as he lets out another whine. You have no idea how many hours he’s been like this, but it’s been too long. He's lost way too much blood.

“You’re going to be fine Namjoon,” You swallow down the bile in your throat as you shuffle around, shifting your hold to gently place his head in your lap. He immediately tries to shuffle closer, not giving up until he’s plastered against your stomach.

“Just, don’t shift, okay? Please don’t shift,” You hastily dig your burrowed phone out of your pocket, vision blurry as you type in Jihyo’s number. Seeing Namjoon’s human form might make it easier to gauge his injuries, but if he shifts while he’s still trapped, you have no doubt it’s just going to tear his leg up even more. 

He lets out a whine as you hands leave his fur, his eyes almost rolled back into his head from the pain. The leg that’s trapped doesn’t even twitch, and Namjoon’s body feels horribly cold as you hurry to run your hands over his fur.

“Y/n? Did you find him?” Jihyo’s voice has never sounded more angelic than when she picks up the phone, you body sagging with relief.

“You can track my location, right? It’s Namjoon–” You force down the sob bubbling in your throat as the wolf hybrid whimpers at the sound of his name, the sound soft and weak. “–he’s hurt.”

“Excuse me,” You whip your head up at the sound of someone clearing their throat, a rather frazzled nurse standing in front you. “Are you here with the wolf hybrid? Kim Namjoon?”

“I am. Is something wrong?” You push out of the plastic chair with a wince, ignoring the queasy feeling in your stomach. It’s been hours since you arrived at the hospital, but the image of Namjoon’s blood pooling around his body doesn’t seem to want to let go of you just yet.

“He’s–" The nurse let out a deep sigh, “I think you need to come with me.” She turns on her heel, motioning for you to follow without another word. Oh god, what if he’s dead? The wolf hybrid had been rushed into an emergency operation immediately upon arrival, so there wasn’t much else that you could do than wait. Hope that he would be okay. 

You hurry after the nurse, nearly tripping over your own feet at quick speed she keeps as she marches down the hall. You’ve barely managed to catch up when she halts outside a door, an exasperated expression on her face as she says, “We’re keeping him under observation for now and he’s not really supposed to have any visitors yet, but he’s being … difficult.” You jump as something clatters to the ground inside the room, the deep growl hardly even muffled by the closed door.

“He’s a still a little out of it, but not dangerous. You’ll see what I mean,” With that, the nurse pushes the door open, stepping aside to allow you entry into Namjoon’s room. You suck in a breath as you step inside, the floor littered with scattered papers and trays. Namjoon is perched up in bed, a heavy cast around his leg. Whatever they were trying to do, the wolf hybrid obviously wasn’t having it. He’s twisted towards the doctor by his side, the man keeping a good distance from the injured hybrid as he let out another harsh growl. You stare in shock as Namjoon bares his teeth, his posture rigid and tense as he eyes the doctor distrustfully. The doctor notices you before Namjoon does, a soft 'thank god' muttered under his breath as he waves for you to come closer.

“Hey Namjoon,” The wolf hybrids nose wrinkles just as your soft voice carries across the room, his ears springing up on his head as he shifts his attention to you.

“Y/n,” Namjoon’s eyes light up as he catches sight of you, his hands practically tearing up the bed sheets as he tries to untangle himself. The action feels awfully familiar to when he tried to drag himself closer despite the bear trap, and you have no intention of watching him trying to walk on his broken leg.

“I thought I told you to stop moving,” You rush forward before he can get himself fully out of bed, pushing him back with a firm shove to his chest. Namjoon falls back without protest, his wide eyes scanning over your face as a loopy smile blooms on his lips.

“Sorry,” He rasps as he engulfs your hand with his, keeping it tucked securely against his body. You can feel the steady thrum of his heart against your palm, beating in rhythm with the soft beeps from the monitor he’s hooked up to.

“We were trying to explain to Mr. Kim that we need to do some tests, but he doesn’t quite seem to share the same sentiment,” The doctor glances back towards the door as a the nurse brings in a new tray of equipment, a weary frown on his face as he picks up a shot. The growl builds in Namjoon’s throat so fast you nearly jump out of your skin, the hold he has around your hand feels like he’s two seconds away from snapping it in half.

“It’s okay, it’s just some standard shots,” You hesitantly bring your hand up to his face, slowly turning his head back in your direction.

“You haven’t had check-ups in a while right?” The wolf hybrid shakes his head, his ears twitching as his attention flickers back and fourth between you and the doctor. “It’s just to make sure you stay healthy.” Namjoon nuzzles against your hand with a soft whimper as you run your thumb along his cheek.

“Makes me feel .. bad. Sleepy,” Namjoon’s speech seems to flow a little easier than it did a week ago, but the struggle to find the right words is still there, his brows furrowing in concentration as he whispers, "Don’t like it.”

You swallow thickly, your stomach in knots as you ask, “Did your owner give you those? The shots that made you sleepy?” The wolf hybrid makes a low sound of agreement, his ears turning back. The marks on his wrist you couldn’t figure out, they’re needle marks. You’ve heard of it before, how some owners would drug their more exotic hybrids to keep them calm and docile – to silence the part of their genetics that make them so unique. You glance down at Namjoon, the wolf hybrid staring up at you with so much vulnerability and trust that the thought of someone taking advantage of that it makes you feel ill.

“These won’t make you feel that way, I promise.” You muster up the warmest smile you can manage as you peek over at the doctor, a silent plea in your eyes.

“Oh! Don’t worry Mr. Kim, there are no side effects to these shots. You’ll hardly even notice it,” The doctor quickly adds as he takes a careful step forward. Namjoon lets out a slow breath, golden eyes finding yours and his tail draping across his lap as he grumbles out a hesitant “Okay.”

“–All done!” You can see the doctor’s shoulders visibly drop as he finally gets the chance to move back, obviously relieved to put some distance between himself and Namjoon. “I’ll be back later to check on your leg and make sure everything is okay.” The sour expression on Namjoon’s face softens as the doctor hurries out the door, the grip around your hand loosening slightly as it clicks shut behind him.

“May I speak with you outside alone for a minute, miss?” You look up at the nurse as she finishes placing a band-aid on Namjoon’s arm, the empty shots rolling around in the tray as she picks it up.

“Oh, sure,” Namjoon lets out a whine as you try to step away, lips formed into a soft pout as you gently extract your hand from his grip. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right back,” You give his shoulder a squeeze before you follow the nurse out, shooting Namjoon what you hope is a comforting smile over your shoulder. The wolf hybrid keeps his eyes trained on you as you leave, his distressed gaze still burning into your back as you close the door behind you. You only take a few steps down the hall before the nurse turns to face you, her expression troubled as she looks you up and down, “I take it he’s not your hybrid?”

“No, he’s not,” You quickly shake your head. “I came across him up in the mountains. He said he ran away from his old owner, and that it was a ‘bad place’. I’m pretty sure it must’ve been a couple of years at least,” You wince. The nurse nods, her gaze shifting around the busy hallway as she thinks.

“I’ll have someone look into it. We need to settle his hospital bills, and only his legal owner can do that.” She must see the way your face drops, because she quickly adds, “I could tell from his old scars that he’s likely been abused. Even if we find his owner, they’re not going to be allowed to take him home. It’ll be looked into.”

“Right, thanks.” You muster up a weak smile. You know how these things go. Even if there’s an investigation, the police are too easy to buy off. There are frankly too many cases like Namjoon’s, and too few cops that actually treat their abuse seriously.

“Can I stay with him until his owner shows up?”

“It’s a little unorthodox, but yes, you can. I don’t think he’ll actually stay inside his room if you don’t.” The nurse lets out a huff, a flash of amusement in her eyes as she waves for you to go back inside. “I’ll let you know once we figure it out, it shouldn’t take too long.”

“Thank you.”

Turning to face Namjoon’s door, you try to shake off the anxious feeling festering in your stomach. You’re not going to let him go back to his old owner. You’re honestly not even sure how you’ve managed to grow attached so quickly, but there’s just something about the wolf hybrid that makes you ready to fight tooth and nail for his safety and happiness – even if it means he won’t find it with you.

a/n: ahah heyy ... let's just ignore that it took me two months to update this, okay? thank you aksjsk. i decided to split the last part into two, to give myself more time to write a little bit of extra fluff (and smut)! so the third and final part is hopefully coming next week, but if not, it will at least be posted by the end of november. namjoon's speech will get better in the next part and we will learn more about him + his and y/n's relationship will grow! if you like the story then please drop me a reblog/comment, that would mean the world to me! (ps. this story has no tag list!)

as always, see you all soon and stay safe! <3 and in case you enjoy my stories and want to buy me a coffee, you can do so here! 💖

[mashiraostail]

Hi! Can I please get some Gang Orca, Aizawa, Vlad King and Present Mic when their S/O knows they've been having a rough week and they surprise their mans with lingerie and an evening of... *ahem* Stress relief? Also some pampering and snuggles!

o my gosh i love this song this is kinda on the longer side i have diverged into the world of p o rn 

ns fw under the cut (i think it’s pretty gender neutral lmk tho!)

Kugo Sakamata/Gang Orca: Kugo tended to wear his emotions on his sleeve in private with you, stress was no different. He was clearly stretched out beyond his normal limits, and by the looks of it, he still had a ways further to go. He always got a little short with you when his work became tedious, not in a mean way just in a curt way. One word answers to your questions became favorable and for better or worse he mostly just liked to be left alone. He apologized after things were sorted he knows you’re only worried and trying to check in with him but when things pile up he gets overwhelmed even by your simple questions.  You could feel the irritation appearing on Monday night, and it only piled as the week progressed, by the end of it the poor man was about to spill over with his annoyance. You were working quietly across the room from him, much less stressful and more leisurely assignments that didn’t make your heart leap out of your throat, you watch him tap his pen around on his desk, prattling the black plastic as he sat on the phone, after a moment he just hung up and sighed, that was the fourth interaction like that within the hour. You watched him forlornly, you wished there was some way for you to help relieve the tension in his shoulders, something you could say or do that would put him at ease rather than overwhelm him further. As you pondered it you realized that maybe there was something. You stand up suddenly, and the unexpected motion leads Kugo to turn and look at you expectantly.  “I’m going to get ready for bed I think.” You sigh, “I’m pretty exhausted so it’s probably best to call it an early night.” It was at least worth a try, even if he’d say no, “you look tired too.” You press a kiss just below his eye, “why don’t you join me?”  He shakes his head, “In a little while. I’ll be quiet.”  “I wasn’t worried about that.” You squeeze his shoulders, “don’t work too hard, okay Kugo?” He just hums back at you as you leave.  You were sort of worried you’d lost it, you’d boughten it a while ago but got too nervous to even put it on by yourself let alone in front of someone else. It wasn’t that you thought he wouldn’t like it, you were pretty sure Kugo could find a way to compliment you if you were wearing a trash bag, it just felt...strange. Embarrassing maybe. You couldn’t pin the word but it made you flutter nervously.  When you do manage to dig it up you contemplate it for a second. You decide the nervousness will be worthwhile if it helps relieve Kugo even a little bit.  You wonder how to go about it, should you just walk across the hall and bust in his office? That feels sort of curt. You look around for a moment before an idea percolates.  “Kugo!” You call out to him, trying to keep an indifferent tone, “can you come here a second? I need a hand!” You hear him sigh, and you’re half expecting him to call back that the step ladder is in the kitchen. But you sit on the edge of your bed in wait, trying to look less nervous and more appealing.  “What’s the matter? I’m very-” Blue, dark navy blue and barely there. He really wasn’t expecting this. He could practically see all of you, sitting on the edge of the mattress, legs crossed, thin satiny straps hardly holding the frail garment together, he’s sure just one tug from his finger would send it fluttering to the ground. He feels sort of bad for letting so much annoyance bubble up in him when you called for him. But now something else was bubbling up. It was like you’d packaged yourself up for him.. well he supposed you quite literally did. “Are you busy?” You can feel his gaze latch onto you, his eyes taking you in, up and down rapidly over and over again.  “No..not...very..”

 It really doesn’t take much coaxing to get him undressed and into bed. After a while of kissing him while his hands roam around the sheer blue lace that just scarcely covered you, you lower yourself to your knees in front of him. You’d been together for a while, and you were never one to hold out on him, he isn’t sure why he’s on cloud nine right now, it’s not like he’d never gotten this sort of thing from you before, your hands, mouth, and a lot more than that were always there. If he wanted you all he had to do was ask. But something about you doing this for him, because he was stressed...the way you did all this just to relieve him? It was too sweet, combined with the sight of you in that perfect outfit on your knees for him and the feeling of your lips and hands playing with his already hard cock was more than enough to wash the tension away. It cleared his head of anything but you.  Big hands pull your mouth off his length, the drool and precum around your lower lip, paired with the redness washed over your face and the obscene plumpness in your lips that the stretch of his cock left behind would have been enough to make him beg if you felt any need to withhold from him. Lucky for him you did not.  “Kugo-” You let him spread your legs, tread careful fingers between them pressing in one, then another while he holds you up in his lap, leaning you against his chest for leverage.  “What a sweet thing you are...” His chest rumbles with it, “did you go to this trouble all to make me feel better?”  His fingers knew their way around too well, his other hand splayed on your chest, careful to simply push or slide underneath the lace rather than remove it, palms and fingertips occasionally brushing over your nipple, all you can do is keen and nod.  “You did?” His hand on your chest pushes you closer, “that makes me so happy my love.”  “Kugo-” You call for him again and he hums as you clutch his wrist, the one between your legs.  “I’m right here. Hm... What would I do without you?” He murmurs it close to your ear, it sends a full-body shudder down your frame, “you always take such good care of me, and I was being cold to you wasn’t I?”  “No,” you shake your head, your whole face is burning, a mixture of arousal and embarrassment at the exposure, “you weren’t-”  “But I was.” He sighs, “and now I’m sorry, how can I make it up to you?”  “Kugo- I just want you,” you gasp, fingers tightening around his arm, “please Kugo,” his fingers leave you at that, the loss makes your whole abdomen stutter.  “Turn around and face me.” You follow his order with shaking thighs.  “Aren’t you lovely?” His tongue slides over your chest as two big hands curl around the small of your back. “Can you do it?”  His question falls on deaf ears, you’re already lining him up and starting to take him in, the groan that rumbles out of him only spurs you on until you’ve worked yourself up to hysterics bouncing in his lap, his low grunted praises pushing you closer to the proverbial edge by the second.  You’re a nice view, Kugo’s surprised he’s lasted so long with it. He watches the flush extend down your chest, his hand occasionally treks down the small of your back to your hips, then down still to feel the stretch of you around his length, until he's just about there, then he’s guiding all your movements, pushing and lifting you with ease, an almost bruising grip gets you to roll your hips against his. You’re sheathed totally in his lap when you both finish.  He enjoys watching your chest heave as you come down from it, then you fall against him. “You really do look lovely.” He wraps his arms around you, keeping you in place.  “You think so?” You shuffle up his chest, “well I’m glad. I don’t know why I was nervous..”  “Nervous?” His tongue glides along your neck, “about how you looked?” “Maybe, I don’t know. I thought maybe you wouldn’t like it, I...I guess I don’t know what I thought to be honest.”  “Whatever you want to give to me I’d be delighted to have.” He nips your earlobe and you sigh, coiling a leg around him as he continues, “even when I get a little short with you, you’re always what I want. I’m a pushover when it comes to you.” He concedes, and then you remember.  “Sorry to pull you away from all your work. I just wanted to help...”  “No need to be sorry, you did help..” He’s rubbing long, tender strokes up your back, “and anyways it was an emergency.” 

Shouta Aizawa: Stress wasn’t foreign to the erasure hero, though stress that came from being behind on work presented a certain dilemma. He dealt with stress by sleeping, but in this case...well sleeping would only make it worse. So he got even less sleep than normal. He was irritable at best and downright rude at worst. He’d apologize later, he always did, but at the moment all he wanted was to be left along to plug away at all the responsibilities he’d neglected until now. You felt bad, you wished there was more you could do to help him out, but as it were all you could really do is be there if he wanted to lean his weight on your arm or complain about his day, normally you’d offer a nap with him but that seemed like the last thing he’d want.  You’d already left him to get ready for bed, you’d showered and were rummaging around for some pajamas when you find it, you don’t think you’d even worn it before. You wouldn’t say you and Shouta didn’t have a lot of sex, you had a decent amount, but normally fancy lingerie was left to fantasy, it looked fragile and not at all like something that would hold up against Shouta’s semi-destructive bedroom tendencies, you wonder why you bought it in the first place. Though you realize that it may be useful right about now, especially if he was in a being taken care of mood over a, doing the caring mood.  You wonder how long ago you even got it, it still fit fine so it can’t be all that old. You peek out the bedroom door to make sure he’s still sitting, unsuspecting at the table in the kitchen, his back to you.  When it all checked out you made your way over, sliding your arms around his neck.  “Shou.” You rest your cheek against his temple, “it’s so late.”  “I know.” Is his deadpan reply. “Do you need the time?” He points to the bottom right of his screen, a small digital clock displaying the hour. You huff at that, you knew he knows that’s not what you mean. “Come to bed with me.” You rub his chest over the ribbed fabric of his shirt, “please?”  “In a minute.”  “Shouta..please..” You whine at him and duck down to kiss his jaw, he reaches behind himself to hold onto you, he finds your shoulder, by the crook of your neck, expecting to feel the fabric of a t shirt or a tank top strap, but there’s nothing, just skin, he slides his hand over your shoulder, in search of something. His other arm reaches around too, lower, to your legs, thighs, and hips.  “Are you naked?” He asks incredulously. “Maybe,” His hand finds one strap around your thigh as you continue, “or better.” He pulls away and stands, facing you, you’re still bent over resting on the back of his chair.  “You-” His eyes latch onto the purple, royal purple, dark, and figure-hugging, leaving nothing to his imagination, purple that he wanted to pull away with his teeth, leaving marks on your skin behind in its place.  “Where’d you get that-”  “Why’s it matter?” You laugh, pulling him closer by his shoulder, “want a matching set?”  “Shut up.” He wraps his arms around you despite his words.  “Ready to call it a night now?” Your own arms come around his neck and he sighs.  “You’re such a brat.”  “You were the one being mean, if you work like this too much I’ll worry you don’t love me anymore, you know?”  The trek from the kitchen to your bedroom is mostly lost in your memory.  You aren’t entirely sure why you considered the possibility that Shouta would want to lay back and let you take care of him, as soon as he touched you back in the kitchen you realized all he’d really want to do was blow off steam. But you were fine with that too. 

That in mind...he can be utterly cruel when it suits him. 

“Are you still worried I don’t love you anymore?” His voice is low and gruff beside your ear, his lips and stubble scraping down your jaw to your neck. If you’d had plans to get on your knees for him he nixed them before you could even get started in favor of getting you where he had you now, back to his chest three fingers inside you at a grueling pace, pushing and curling and rubbing until your eyes were watering and you were arching against him, trying to get enough leverage to close yourself off.  “Keep your legs open.” His other hand is at your collar bone, keeping you pressed against him, “come on, or I’ll tie you up how I want you.” You grip his arm at that you can feel him grin into your skin.  “You’re gonna rip it-” You turn into him, chest stuttering, he hadn’t gone to the trouble of removing the lingerie, just pushing and twisting it out of the way of his hands.  “I’ll buy you a new set if I do.” He’s teeth close around your neck, “don’t worry about it. Don’t worry about anything.”  You dig your nails into his arm unsure of what number orgasm this was, honestly after 2 you felt like they just melded together anyways, it’s not like he let up nearly long enough to let you recover.  “Are your eyes watering?” He mutters it into your jaw, “aren’t you cute? Is it too much?” You’re just shaking your head, keening and arching into his touch, chest heaving with helpless breaths.  “No?” His voice is thick with faux sympathy, “are you gonna cry? It hurts a little to be so close, doesn’t it? Can’t take it? You’re right there aren’t you? Why can’t you cum?” He doesn’t mind the scratching, and it’s a good thing, cause if he did..he’d be an unhappy man after this all let up.  “You didn’t say-” You barely get the breath in your lungs to push the words out.  He’s grinning though, it’s the answer he wanted, exactly how he wanted it, breathless and needy. “You want me to say you can?” His other hand rubs your stomach comfortingly, a stark and unfair contrast to the pace of his second hand. “Is that what you want? Will you cry if I don’t?”  “I’ll cry if you do too-”  “I’m willing to test that, come on. Cum now.” It happens like clockwork, with Shouta it always was. Stuttering thighs, your stomach taking in shaky uneven breaths. Once your peak is there and gone both hands are softer, slower, rubbing long strokes against your sex then your stomach and chest.  “That was good.” He’s murmuring it into the soft skin behind your ear, “that was so good. You’re so sweet.” His hand’s rubbing small circles over your belly, his thumb brushing over your navel. “Is that all you can do tonight?” “No,” You shake your head vehemently, “no I want you too-” He hums affectionately into your skin at that. “You are sweet tonight.” He squeezes you a little, it’s a blink and you’ll miss it moment, but you feel it. “Okay then, if this is what you want then I won’t feel bad. Lay on your chest.”

Sekijiro Kan/Vlad King: Despite how he looked Kan really wasn’t very brutish at all. But when he got like this sometimes his own strength evaded him. It made his emotions obvious, when he got too stressed even a fountain pen was liable to snap in his fist. He’d worked through all the wooden pencils in your apartment, they’d been halved and discarded in rapid succession, he was currently working through all the mechanical pencils. You hoped this all got sorted before the fountain pens, that was a mess you’d rather avoid. He was usually good at dealing with stress, long runs, combat trainings, things in that vein were usually enough to relive him of a bad couple of days. But if the discontent extended past that normally he liked talking with you, when he was stressed, upset or exhausted he liked having you hauled up in his lap, squeezing him, combing your fingers through his hair and babying him into perking up a bit. But when it got past even that stage was when you had to worry about fountain pens.  He’d brush you off, just a grunt or nod as a reply as he slunk back into his seat. You tired your signature knuckle kisses to get him to warm up to you, but all you’d gotten out of him was a huff of breath. He didn’t pull his hand away from you though, until his phone started to ring, and by the time he finished his conversation and hung up he didn’t look keen on offering it to you again.  “Sek.” You slide your hand into the crook of his elbow and he nods.  “You should come to bed. It’s late and you don’t feel good.”  “I feel fine.” He shakes your hold on his arm, “you go ahead. It is late, there’s no need for you to be up now.” Normally he’d kiss your head with a phrase like that, but all he did was break the pencil in his right hand. You sigh, “alright. Well wake me up if anything okay? If I can help at all I want to.”  “I know. Thanks.” You kiss his temple as you stand up, “Don’t be too late.” He just nods at that and you close the door behind you as you leave.  It’s there in your closet front and center when you open it up. You were planning on using it for his birthday...but now..well maybe it’d be enough to rescue him yet? You only got it a few days ago, you hadn’t even tried it on yet. You look between it and your reflection before settling on an idea.  You stand before the closed door, separating you and Sekijiro, you’re just a little nervous, if he brushed you off dressed like this you’d be sort of crushed, but he got such tunnel vision sometimes it was a possibility in your head. But you were almost 100% there now, so there wasn’t any use in turning back. “Sekijirio.” You open the door and try to seem less anxious. “Mhm?” He doesn’t turn to look at you. You approach him without responding. “Sekijiro.” You say it harder this time and he nods more obviously, still spinning a barely together pencil in his fingers.  “Yeah,what’s wrong?” You’re standing beside him and he still doesn’t look at you.  “I though you were going to bed?” He says still without looking at you.  “I was.” You agree.  “So why didn’t you?” “I got lonely.” You put a hand on his shoulder, hoping to get his gaze on you, though you’re ineffective. “I’m really busy.”   “Sekijiro.” You spin his chair.  “Baby what gives, I-” He stops, maybe chokes on something.  “You’re being such a brute.” You take his hands and slide them up your stomach as you drop into his lap. He hears you but all he can think about is red, lacy and showy fabric highlighting the best places, like a guide for all the places his wants to put his hands, the band around your thigh squeezing, making you look even fuller and more supple in his lap. “What happened to my big sweet man Seki?” His mouth feels dry, your holding the sides of his neck, drawing him into a kiss, and clearly encouraging him to just put his hands all over you. It was like he was having some embarrassing high school fantasy, like someone dug around his brain and picked out his most perfect fantasy and laid it out like a trap for him. “I say that..but it’s so sexy when you get all worked up..” His stomach swarms at that as your eyes cast to the abandoned pile of broken writing utensils. You’re practically whining into his lips, “ and I know I shouldn’t distract you, you said you were busy, I’m sorry I’m so needy-”  “I’m not busy at all.” He barely lets you finish, “this is nothing. Don’t be sorry. I can do it tomorrow.” He was sure his class would understand if he..waited an extra day or two to return the exams..  “Just keep working.” Your hands are sliding into his shirt, “I’ll take care of you.”

He could not keep working. It was unfair of you to hold him to that standard, when you were so good at this, when you looked so good on your knees between his legs, taking him to the back of your throat, when your hands felt like that braced on his thighs. No sane person could keep working. Not when your hair was begging to have his hands in it, or when you clearly needed to be guided up and down his length by the nape of your neck.  He only had two hands. And when your’s started wandering, up his abdomen, around to his waist, begging him to toss his shirt somewhere else..the work can wait, for your sake. He doesn’t mean to pull so hard, but the moan that flutters past your lips when he does indicates it may not be the worst mistake he’s ever made. He pulls you off his length and you let him go with a pop, a thin strand of something obscene connected your lips to the head of his cock, the sight of it alone was enough to make him buck his hips up into nothing.  “Let’s just go to bed.” He’s guiding you to stand, “I’m done here. Let’s just go bed.” He can’t tell if the ditzy stumble and blown out pupils are just part of the act or if blowing him really does shut your brain off a little. “if you want-” Your voice jumps as he swipes you up via the back of your thighs, once your settle though you take the short walk to your bedroom as an opportunity to get your lips on him again, his shoulders, his chest, just around the neckline of his hero costume, if it even tore a little one stood the chance of sticking out. He loses his pants on the way. He just tosses you on the bed once you’re close enough, before you can protest or complain he’s kissing you quiet, then trailing his mouth down your neck and shoulders, to your chest and stomach and legs, kissing and biting and fingering, enjoying the feeling of your fingers twirling and tugging his hair, and the way you’re spreading your legs to allow him closer. He enjoys it until he’s hooking your legs over his shoulders and lining himself up, your hands brace his hips as he presses forward.  If anyone asked him this was the best of both worlds, he got the physical work out plus he got you cooing in his ear? He wasn’t really sure what he was stressed about in the first place.  “Fuck-” You’re gasping it out, pressing his face into your neck, “you’re amazing-” Even subtle praise makes his stomach jump, and you’re just babbling it out thoughtlessly at this point, he doesn’t blame himself for not lasting much longer after you start.  His weight drops onto your chest after you finish and you heave, “jeeze Sek-”  “Sorry.” He presses his face into your shoulder, “sorry.” But he doesn’t move. The way you wrap your arms around his back say you don’t want him to.  “That was really good.” He’s still huffing into your skin and you hum, dragging a hand up his back.  “I’ll help you grade that stuff tomorrow.” You twirl the hairs at the base of his neck around your fingertips. He groans thankfully. “I’m sorry I was being mean.” He rolls over and traps you against his chest, “you’re the best.” 

Hizashi Yamada/ Present Mic Hyperactive was an understatement, manic was an intense downplay of the current state of your boyfriend. And he was doing everything but the things that needed to get done.  “Hizashi-”  “I can't now I need to do-” (insert thing that doesn’t need to be done at all).  He had plenty of reports to fill out, from what you heard it was a busy week for patrols in the area, plus his usual grading and any work for the show.  But instead of doing that he was reorganizing a record shelf.  “Hizashi I-”  “You don’t understand how badly I need to organize these alphabetically by title.” He doesn’t let you get a word in.  “Clearly I don’t at all. Can I help at all?” You sit on the ground behind him.  “No I don’t think so.”  “Alright.” You concede, “I’m gonna call it a night.” You sigh, “call if you need me.”  “Aye aye.” He’s scrutinizing two records as you leave him.  You just needed to get him to focus on something, then he’d be fine. But what could you get him to focus on...something starts to bubble up, it might just work too..if you could get his feet on the ground  in anyway at all you were sure it’d stick.  It doesn’t take you long to find the box, you’d bought it for a special occasion, though with Hizashi you normally didn’t get much in the ways of planning and preparation, when valentines, your birthday, his birthday, an anniversary etc.. rolled around he was jumping your bones the moment you rolled over in the morning. You don’t think he’s ever even seen this one on you.  You don’t take long to get changed, you’re inspecting yourself in the mirror when your bedroom door opens.  “Babe I know you said you were going to bed but I hope you aren’t asleep because while I was cleaning out that box that I use to prop up some vinyl sleeves I found these hilarious pictures from high school of you and Nem-” He drops the pictures.  “Oh.” You turn to him, “well I wanted to give you a surprise.”  “You did-” He chokes it out, red flush creeping down his neck, “why are you wearing that-”  “Because.” You go over to him and take his wrists, pulling him further into your bedroom, he just stumbles along with your pull. “You need to calm down Zashi baby.”  “This does not make me feel calm-” It’s strangled, if he got any redder you were sure you’d see steam coming out of his ears.  “You need to get all your energy out.” You press him down until he’s sitting on the edge of your bed. You roll your hips against him, and drag your lips down his jaw, one hand braced on his shoulder and the other against his chest, but you can still feel his attention waining.  “Zashi.” You drop all your weight into his lap and it pulls his eyes from your dresser back to you.  “Focus on me.” You guide his hands up your waist and all the fluster that had been lost as his thoughts wandered away from you returned. You realize the better thing to do is stand up and let him have things his way. “You can look or touch however you want.” You pull his hands down your hips.  “So just blow off all that extra steam okay? Whatever you want, just tell me.”  He looks mildly like he’s about to pass out.  His hands go where you expect, your hips, around to cup your ass and his lips flutter around your stomach and waist. You elect to just sigh good naturedly and curl your fingers in his hair to keep him with you. “Can you turn around?”  “Hizashi.” You frown, “don’t be distasteful.”  “You said whatever I wanted-” You suppose you cant argue that so you turn around and try not to let out an embarrassing squeak or squeal when 100% of his attention is directed at your ass, one arm circling around you to hold you in place.  Various articles of clothing are lost or rearranged to accommodate the touching and kissing. He manages to pull you into bed with him, still keeping your legs on either side of his head as he lays down. His arms wrap around your thighs  fingers and palms running slow strokes over your sex as his teeth scrape the surrounding skin, tongue fluttering against your hole occasionally. You press against his chest for leverage and he encourages you to rock your hips against him. You eventually go for his cock, as he starts to work you up too much, getting you too close. You thumb at the head before leaning down and taking him past your lips. He seems contented with that for a while until he’s laying you out on your chest, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pushing into you. He doesn’t stay pressed to you for too long before he’s pulling back to watch your whole body react to him.  It held his attention exceedingly well.  “Zashi fuck-” To say that the way you reached back and fumbled for his hand where it held the bend of your hips heightened the experience would be an understatement.  “Fuck you’re really sexy-” He presses his fingers into your skin harder, “god you’re so fucking hot,” he groans watching your back shift to accommodate the way your hand searches for some purchase. Instead though he’s pushing it away and using his grip on you to turn you to your back, he pulls your legs around his waist and you follow his pull with no protest.  “Fucking god,” He grunts, bottoming out as if he hadn’t pulled out in the first place, “shit, look at you.”  “Zashi-” Your chest flutters with it, he can feel it under his hands.  “Say my name like that again.” He mutters it, maybe more to himself, he’s unhooking one of your legs from his waist and aligning it over his shoulder.  He seriously had way too much energy, you could barely keep up you felt so dizzy.  “Zashi!” You keen at the deeper angle and he groans. “God you sound almost as good as you look.” He presses his forehead into your shoulder, “I’m gonna fucking cum babe-”  The way you were gripping him like you’d float away if you didn’t was already more than enough for him, but the way you’re nodding, eyes squeezed shut as you gasp it out at him, “me too!” If that didn’t do the trick then nothing would.  He’s against your chest, heaving. “Feel better?” You ask pulling a long strand of hair between your fingers. He hums and presses his face into your neck.  “Yeah I do..”  “It’s still pretty early.” You curl your arms around his back and drag your fingers over the shifting muscles below. He nods at that and takes a deep breath of you. “So..” You prompt him. “I could help you work out what you need to get done tomorrow?”  “We could go again?” You speak in unison.  “Again!?” You flush, “Zash you have way too much energy!” 

Bonus Aizawa ending hehe: “Are you sure you’re okay?” He’s looking at you where you lay below him the next morning, he’d reached over you to click off his alarm when he caught sight of you, he’d really done a number on you. Red in all the places he’d grabbed or smacked, shapeless hickeys outlining where the lingerie had been the night before, the map on your skin the only thing left of the garment as far as you were concerned.  “I’m fine.” You wave, “I’ve gotta get up soon though, I’ll be late.” You pin some of his stray hairs back, “what really matters is how are you feeling? Did I help at all? I was worried I’d only make it worse-”  “I feel much better.” He leans down to bridge the gap between your lips, “I shouldn’t get so stand offish. I’m sorry. I hope you don’t really think I don’t love you.”  “Of course I don’t.” You laugh, sitting up, “I’m glad you feel better now. It’s okay to need space Shouta.” You squeeze his face in your hands, “I love you and I know that you love me. I’m always here for you, even when you need space okay?” He hears your words and appreciates them, but his attention is taken by the state of your thighs, which was 1000x worse than that of your chest and stomach. “Are you sure I didn’t do too much? You can be honest with me. I know I was in a really bad mood.” He asks pushing the blanket to reveal more reddend skin.  “Positive. Now you should get a few more z’s Shou.” You stretch out, “I’ve got a meeting.”  As soon as your feet hit the floor your legs protest the weight of your body with everything they have. “Are you sure you’re sure?” Shouta can see your hickey covered thighs trembling as you walk around the bed to your closet, the way you hold the door knob like a life line makes it obvious. The backs of your thighs are still stained red and tensed taught to carry your weight. “Yeah I just...need to stretch is all..” “Uh-huh. Stretch.” Shouta’s just laughing at you. 

[urimaginespimp]

Three Months Apart

Tommy x Reader

angst + maybe a happy ending?

--------

Today was the day you were going to ask him.

You’ve been with Thomas for over six years. The countless parties and weddings you’ve attended together become more and more intolerable. All because every time you went to them, the more you wanted to have your own.  

It didn’t help that your family was pressuring you to it, no matter how against they were of your relationship. Your father often told you, that If you were going to associate yourself with such a dangerous family, might as well make sure you’re officially entitled to their protection.

You gave him the signs, hell even Polly and John started dropping their own hints at him to help you after they figured out what you’ve been trying to do. But as much as Thomas was one of the most intelligent people you know, he seemed to be oblivious about it.

Pacing back and forth outside his office, you were close to backing out when the door opened, revealing Thomas.

“Is there a reason why you’ve been pacing back and forth out here for the last three minutes?” your boyfriend asks you with a smile.

“I uh… wanted to talk.” You answered quietly, walking inside.

Thomas was confused with the nervousness of you voice. Closing the door, he turned to see you already on the seat in front of his desk, fidgeting with your fingers.

“Is there something wrong, Y/N?” He asked you.

“A friend of mine from London is getting married next month.” You don’t know how, but that lie just rolled off your tongue.

“Y/N, you know you don’t have to be nervous about asking me to be your date, right? We’ve gone through occasions like these about a hundred times.” He chuckled.

“Right. We’ve been through a lot of weddings.” You nodded, smiling. “But I never got the chance to ask you the very same thing I often ask my other unmarried friends.”

“Well shoot, darling.” He walked towards you and took the seat opposite yours.

“Do you think they’re making the right decision?" you finally asked him, feeling a rush out of your system. You didn’t even realize how tense this has been making you.

“Frankly, if it’s no benefit for a company, like let’s say an official alliance, then it’s a waste of time and money.” He answered nonchalant, taking a cigarette out of his pocket.

No matter how appalled you were at his response, you tried not to show it.

“Not even if they do love each other?” You felt your throat tighten up.

Thomas sighed. “If they really do love each other, they wouldn’t need to have such a unecessary event to shove it to other people’s face.”

“Good God, Thomas.” You whispered.

“Tom, it’s more than just telling the world how much you love each other. It’s also sealing devotion to each other. Giving them the gift of the right t-to let’s say, visit you in a hospital without having to wait for a real family member tell them that you are indeed the patient’s significant other. Or not having to deal with stupid people labeling you as their whore or temporary piece anymore.” You ranted to him, not being able to hold back in including your personal reasons.

“Is this what this is all about? You let those petty comments in your head even after years of being together?” He asked you, irritated. You stood up from your seat.

“I’m a woman, Thomas. And it’s quiet disappointing that at this time of age, being one still isn’t that significant. I quit my job for you. I left the comfort of my family’s home for you. Everyone I run into knows I’m with you. Now God forbid, but what would become of me if one of your dangerous antics would lead you to your demise? Who would hire a Shelby trash? And I might as well kill myself if I’d have to go back and hear my mother’s non-ending comments about me.”

“You know my family’s still going to take care of you.” He answered quietly, still wrapping his head around your sudden outburst.

“That’s not the point.” At this rate, you were gripping your dress to stop yourself from crying. Not until you ask him one more thing at least.

“Have you even thought about marrying me?” You blinked at him, hopefulness laced your voice.

But for the first time in the years you’ve been with him, Thomas Shelby was out for words in an argument. Your question left his mouth parted, trying to give you an answer.

Your stomach dropped. The defeated look on your face almost pushed him to give you the lie you wanted to hear, but he couldn’t do that to you.

“I understand." You said looking down at your dress and running your hands through it as if an effort to smooth it out, when you were only trying not to show the tears that have finally spilled.

Taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself from the dreadful thing you were about to say next.

"I can’t do this anymore.” You barely said and willed your shaking self to walk out from him that day.

--------

That was three months ago.

You were in your father’s debt for helping you “disappear” off the radar for a little while. He sent you to live with a wealthy distant relative in the countryside, giving you time to pick yourself up and work on your personal happiness again.

It was safe to say that you were getting there, if it weren’t just for your own mind betraying you every once in a while, when you’d unexpectedly think or dream about him.

And of course, there were times where you almost regretted that day. You were already happy, right? But at the same time, it was better than spending more years before realizing he’d never marry you.

Thomas. You hadn’t heard directly from him ever since that day. Of course you gave a haste tearful goodbye to everybody, promising to write to them in the future. But it was a few letters from your sister that gave you a few updates.

She’d told you how he came to your family’s home a bunch of times on the first month, asking for your father’s favor to tell him where you were. On the second month he’d resort to calling every now and then, but on the third, there was nothing.

You guess he’d finally move on. And that was your cue to finally come home.

A few days back in your family’s home, one of your maids handed you an invitation to your name. It was dated a month back, but what caught your attention was that the seal was clearly already opened.

“It got delivered straight to the Shelbys first, miss.” She told you after seeing your confused expression.

Giving her a nod and a small smile, you opened it and saw that it was a formal invitation to a friend’s engagement party, set three nights from now.

“Should I send you sincerest regrets?” She asked you, and you stared back at her. “S-since you just got back from a trip.” She clarified awkwardly.

“No. Just go with me to find a dress tomorrow, please.”

--------

“I almost lost hope that you’d even come, Y/N” your friend hugged you as soon as she got you alone after introducing you to her betrothed.

“Don’t be daft. I’d never miss a chance to see my friends happy.” You smiled at her. “I never even knew you were dating someone.”

“Yeah, it’s for the family’s benefit. We like each other though, so it’s no problem.” She explained, chuckling. “So…” she continued. “Where have you been these past few months? I tried calling but all I got was that you’re out for a vacation.”

“I’m no longer with Thomas. Had to clear my head for a lil bit." You smiled awkwardly. Sooner or later you had to tell people anyway.

“Y/N I- I am so sorry for the invitation mishap. Had I known, I wouldn’t have sent it to his address or listed him as your plus one.” She squeezed your hand in remorse.

“It’s fine, really. You didn’t know.” You assured her.

She was smiling at you in gratitude, but something behind you caught her eye that made her gape in surprise. Curious, you turned your head and saw that it was no other than your ex-boyfriend heading your way.

“Do you want me to get someone to escort him out?” You friend asked in panic. Turning to face her, you took a deep breath to calm yourself.

“No, I’ll handle it. What I want you to do is enjoy your party, okay?” You smiled reassuringly. Giving your hand one last squeeze, she excused herself when Thomas was a few steps away.

Turning to face him, you were surprisingly feeling calmer than expected.

“Mr. Shelby.” You addressed him with a curt nod.

“Can I talk to you in private?” he cut to the chase. You bit your tongue back from making a remark about his lack of greeting, after seeing how his eyes were pleading despite his cold tone.

“Lead the way.” You found yourself saying.

On your way to wherever he was going, you caught your friend’s worried eye, and gave her a playful scolding look for not enjoying herself like you asked. Sure enough, he led you both in an unoccupied room that looked like someone’s study.

As soon as he closed the door behind him, you were taken aback when he suddenly charged at you and engulfed you in his arms. Thankfully, you were quick enough to steady yourself so that you both wouldn’t fall.

“Please don’t ever call me that ever again.” He whispered in your ear, shakily.

“W-wha-“

“Mr. Shelby. Please don’t ever call me like I'm just some associate. I hate it.” He cut you off. Your eyes watered at the tone of his voice. It sounded like he was as miserable as you’ve been these past few months.

Unable to give him any response, he slowly finally let go of you from his embrace and faced you. Looking at him, he was in one of his expensive suits, but that could only take away a little of your attention from his real state.

He had never looked as tired as he does right now, he looked like he lost a few pounds, his skin was paler than usual. You resisted the urge to touch his face.

“I’m sorry.” He finally spoke up.

“I’m fine now, Thomas.” You answered, though the lone tear that rolled down your cheek said otherwise.

“I’m not.” He answered frankly. “These past three months have been hell, Y/N. I kept going to your father, begging him to tell me where you were, until Poll told me that the more I persisted, the longer I wouldn’t see you.” He wiped the tear on your cheek with his thumb.

“H-how did you know I’ll be here?” you whispered, still trying to find you voice.

“I opened the invitation. But I risked going here just without guarantee you'd come.” He explained to you.

“I was in a distant aunt’s home. I just had to get away.” You didn’t know what else to say, so you told him where you’ve been. “It had a big garden, and I was treated really well there. They gave me everything I requested, I got to ri-”

“Marry me.” He told you in the middle of your babbling, catching you off-guard once more. “It was selfish of me to merely think of marriage the way I did, without even thinking about how it would mean for you.”

Recovering from the shock, you shook your head at him.

“No.” You replied sternly.

“No?” the hurt in his tone didn’t go unnoticed.

“I don’t want to force you into doing something you don’t believe in Thomas. I left not because I didn’t love you anymore. I did it because we want different things, and we both deserve to be with someone who would have the same mindset as we do. Because yes, I would’ve just accepted your answer and be content with our relationship. But I knew that along the way I’d start to resent you. I never want that to happen.”

“But that’s the thing, Y/N.” He held both of your arms. “When you left, I thought about everything you said and asked. You asked if I ever thought about marrying you. No, I haven’t, but I always thought about spending my life with you, having kids, owning a home together, and all that hosting events bullshit.” He chuckled. “And I realized that I can have that. But I also want to make it official first.” He added softly.

At this point, you couldn’t answer him anymore as tears prickled your eyes. Then he got down on one knee before your standing figure.

“Now please, Y/N. Will you take me out of my own misery and give me your hand in marriage?” He was already crying too. Who knew that the excruciating past three months would lead you both to here.

But just when you were about to give him your answer, the door suddenly opened, revealing your friend who had worry written all over her face. But it quickly turned into a shocked one when she saw that what Thomas was doing.

“I thought you were in trouble since you were taking too long.” She smiled sheepishly at both of you.

You smiled back at her. Then turned your attention back to Thomas.

“I guess we should invite her first, then.”

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

Prompt # 19: Addiction  

@sicktember Alternate prompt #4: Stay

Title: Unexpected Developments Part 2

Fandom: Pride and Prejudice

Find Part 1 under prompt # 8. Mr. Darcy is sick in bed and miserable. Elizabeth is trying to look after him, but his bad mood gets the better of him and tempers flare. Will sweetness or stubbornness win out in the end?

Elizabeth Bennett was the only guest at Netherfield who wasn't in bed with a cold. The virus Jane had caught riding to attend luncheon with Caroline had spread around the whole house, but it seemed Eliza was immune. Mr. Darcy had been the last to fall ill, and Lizzie had discovered him sneezing in a corner over a day ago while she remained perfectly healthy. It was fortunate she had discovered him though, for the servants were rushing hither and yon at the beck and call of their ill master and his sister, and poor Mr. Darcy would have been overlooked completely if Lizzie hadn't taken him under her care. 

Lizzie, for her part, was glad Jane's cold was much improved from the days prior. Since Jane needed little tending now, she had given Lizzie her blessing to give most of her attention to Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy, for his part, was very accustomed to having a houseful of servants to do his bidding, and was little accustomed to being ill, strong and virile as he was. Because of these things, he was not the easiest patient, though he truly tried to make an effort to curb his frustration and not take his misery out on Elizabeth. Her lack of symptoms clearly perturbed him, however.

"How is it you are still in perfect health while I and everyone else are laid up with this beastly chest cold?" he griped that afternoon while Lizzie fussed around, tidying up dishes and rags from his bedside. If Lizzie wasn't accustomed to his voice by now, she would have had trouble understanding him, for his nose was stopped tight with congestion, and his voice raw and weak from coughing, rendering him nigh unintelligible. 

She giggled to herself. "Well you see, I believe I've already had this cold, for in the week prior to Jane's arrival here, my father, some of my other sisters and myself caught cold. We were envious of Jane's good luck in not falling ill at the time, but it seems it caught up with her in the end."

"Indeed," Mr. Darcy muttered sourly with a slushy sniffle.

"Oh don't be cross. It isn't so terrible lounging in bed all day, being waited on hand and foot is it?" 

"Yet when I find myself miserable in body, I find my mood tends to follow," he groused.

"Hmm." Elizabeth moved to his side, caressing his flushed face gently with the pad of her thumb. "It's just as I thought. You're only irritable like this when your fever is up, and indeed you are overwarm again. Jane's fever wasn't nearly so persistent."

"How fortunate for me," he mumbled to himself. Elizabeth tried to ignore his bad temper as she fetched her basin and rag. She wasn't fond of sarcasm, and his attitude was irking her more than she cared to let on. Tenderly as ever though, she began bathing his face and neck to try to bring down his miserable fever.

The cold water on his face made him gasp slightly, which became a cough, and the coughing only seemed to agitate him more. He usually enjoyed his face being bathed, but today he drew away from the rag. 

“Perhaps we should try another method for treating fever, since this does not seem to be effective,” said the sick man. His speech was curt and tense with foul temper.

Elizabeth gave him a long look, trying to keep her own temper under control. “What would you suggest, sir? We have tried willow bark, which made you feel more ill, and you will not have any other poultices,” she said in a measured, warning way.

“There must be something we haven't done yet. I would do anything to rid myself of this beastly cold, that came from *your* sister, I might add! You just said you already had  this cold. Think of something else to try!”

Elizabeth flew to her feet, tossing down the rag. “Perhaps you should go plunge yourself into an ice bath! That will surely help the fever, and I’m sure it will do wonders for your coughing and sneezing as well! But you can draw it yourself, and you can see to your own meals and entertainment too. You clearly feel my efforts are inadequate, so you can tend to yourself from now on. I am through with smoothing your insufferable pride and being a target for your bad mood. Good day, sir!”

With a whirl of skirts, she was out the door without a glance behind her. Elizabeth went straight to her room and lay down in the cool and quiet, for she was exhausted and careworn from nursing for a week straight. She fell asleep immediately and didn’t wake for several hours. 

She felt much refreshed when she did finally emerge. She first went to look in on Jane, who was overall back to normal, but was getting bored sitting around and eager to go home. On questioning the staff, they learned that Caroline had mostly recovered as well. Mr. Bingley was recovering slower, but getting better all the time. The sisters wished him a speedy recovery by way of the servants, for as soon as he was recovered, they would be able to return home.

After visiting with Jane for some time, Elizabeth desired to find a quiet corner and read. To her chagrin, she realized she had left her book in Mr. Darcy’s room. She did not relish seeing him again so soon after they parted so badly, but she had no choice if she wanted her book back. With a sigh, she made her way to his room with hesitant steps. She knocked softly before entering, which felt odd since she had been coming and going freely for two days prior. His hoarse, weak voice bid her come in.

He was in quite a different state than he had been a few hours before. Where he had previously been fitful and agitated, now he seemed weak and lethargic. Even in the dim light she could see how sweat-matted his hair was, and the dark ring on his pillow. He lifted his head up to see who had entered, and his sleepy eyes flickered with confusion upon seeing her. 

“I only came to get my book. I apologize for disturbing you,” she said stiffly, hardly looking at him. She snatched up the volume from the table where it lay and turned to go back out, intending to say nothing else.

“Wait.” 

She paused, and turned slightly, her good breeding winning over. “Yes?”

He sat up a bit straighter, coughing weakly as he did so. “I am deeply sorry for how I behaved earlier. My treatment of you was inexcusable after all you’ve done for me these past days--” Here he had to pause to press his handkerchief to his dripping nose before he could continue. Elizabeth waited silently. “I was a beast and feel very much like a fool. Please forgive me,” he managed, mumbling through the damp fabric. His eyes shone earnestly above the hand holding the linen in place.

Her face softened. “I accept your apology, and thank you for it. No one acts quite themself when they’re ill, so I gladly forgive you. I’m sorry too for my part in all of it.”

They shared a tiny smile as he tended to his nose with a thick, gurgling blow, and she knew she was forgiven also. Immediately the tension between them was cleared.

Now that they had made up though, she was reluctant to leave him alone again, for he looked so weak and forlorn and in need of care. However, she was a woman of her word. She spoke as she moved to the door, putting her hand on the knob. “You must rest, Mr. Darcy, so I'll leave you be. I truly apologize for waking you.”

“Miss Elizabeth?” 

Once more she turned to meet his eyes.

He held out a shaking hand. “Please… stay.”

She slowly returned to his side. “For what purpose, sir?”

“I… I desire your company… and your aid. You are… a far better caregiver than I, and I was a fool to imply otherwise. It… it won't happen again,” he croaked thickly. 

Seeing the effort he was making to be overly polite softened Eliza's heart further. She let him take her hand in his warm grasp, a smile playing around her lips. “If you insist. I will stay.”

He smiled also as he drew her hand toward himself. "Here, let me show you something," he snuffled. He placed her wrist against his neck, just as she had done many times over the past few days. He sighed softly as their skin made contact.

“Your fever has broken,” she murmured happily. “You are cool at last.”

“Yes.”

“How did you do it?” she asked, withdrawing her hand. “Did you plunge yourself into an ice bath after all?”

He stifled a cough before he could speak. “I… tried willow bark again, as you recommended. I felt worse… at first, but I fell asleep to ease the symptoms. When I woke, the fever had left me, and I felt… much clearer in mind. The fever was causing my foul mood, as you insightfully noted.” Yet another long speech, and now his voice was barely audible as he sniffled furiously and trembled with fatigue. 

“Yet you seem somewhat worse for wear, for you’re completely exhausted, poor man.”

“This illness has left me weary to my bones, it is true. Yet I could not have slept soundly tonight knowing I had offended you. It would be an understatement to say I was very glad when you returned, though I did not expect or deserve a second chance.” His eyes were getting heavier by the moment, and he yawned almost before he finished speaking, reclining back against his pillows once more.

Elizabeth brushed the sweaty curls from his forehead as his eyes drifted closed, then let her hand rest on his cheek for a moment, reassuring herself that his fever was truly gone. He lazily covered her hand with his, a content smile flickering across his face. 

She couldn’t help but smile in response, though he couldn’t see it. “Take some rest, Mr. Darcy. All is forgiven, and I will be here when you wake.” She gently tried to pull her hand away from his face. He quickly interlaced his fingers with hers to prevent this.

“You’ll truly stay?” he murmured sleepily, sniffling.

Leaving her hand on his cheek, she perched on the edge of his bed, so close their hips were almost touching. She saw him smile again as she did so. 

“Of course I will,” she murmured back, her eyes never leaving his face as he peacefully drifted to sleep.

[hitoshisbabygirl]

Keys hit the table and the usual grunt of cuss words fill the living room of the shared apartment of Bakugou and his roommate [ ]. Hearing the angry blonde enter [ ] felt herself getting up as she entered into the shared living room of them “Bad day?” She asked as vermillion eyes glanced towards her concerned [ ] ones. “ ‘M fine'' The usual grunt filled the room as he pushed back past the worried girl. Frowning and used to this curt greeting of his from the last few days [ ] sighed and went back to their kitchen yelling to the blonde that she started a shower for him, getting no real response from him.

Bakugou and [ ] had an odd relationship. They started to live together because of the boys burning his kitchen on their day off when they all lived together. He told the others ‘She was the only smart one out of his dumbass friends and the only one he could trust to not burn his place down’ and with that the usual group of Sero, Denki and Kirishima moved out of his place and to the place beside him ,the group wanting to still be around the grumpy blonde. [ ] was used to coming over with Mina and the group being around before Bakugou asked her, quite aggressively one day ( Oi you're moving in with me, i'm tired of these dumbasses destroying my place on their days off of patrol) which is how they ended in this arrangement

Even with Bakugou being a handsome and very popular hero with ladies, he never had anyone over, no awkward run-ins with [ ] staying there, nothing at all. He rarely even left the house to visit the others unless he knew he had the time for it. Bakugou was dedicated , being the #2 hero he had little time for much outside of work. He refused to take brakes, no matter how much [ ] and the others tried to get him out hed huff and puff about work until he actually had fun at whatever function it was that he was dragged to so he could get fresh air

He'd been like this since highschool when she met him. Angry , confidence that was more like cockyness, a temper to be messed with, prideful and not afraid to speak his mind, good or bad. [ ] could remember from when she used to get paired with him how smart he actually was, but how he could also belittle you if you didn't realize he gave you backward compliments. She owns him over with taking him head to head on, in practice battles and in the work behind the scenes. Bakugou wouldn't admit it but [ ] kept him together, more than he let show on the outside. From bandaging him up after an intense fight, to letting him vent when he was angry ; [ ] was there for everything, his good , bad and ugly.

Hearing the showeer turn off [ ] continued to find them something to eat as the silence in the room was comforting. As dinner started she took his hero clothes to the washer, starting the load so he'd have a fresh outfit, even with him having multiples of the hero costume, he was quite fawn of the one that he had gotten during highschool, the measurements needing to be increased heavily for his now large size but that was nothing for [ ]. As a gift once he got his own agency she had repaired the old threads, even going far enough to bulking them up so they'd be less prone to ripping or shrinking. That was the one time [ ] had seen emotion flash through the stoic blonde before he thanked her, genuinely with a rare smile that blessed his face.

Soon though, she felt a presence in the room. Turing around she was met with those same vermillion eyes, this time the look in them unreadable as he stared his friend down “Yes Kasuki?” [ ] said as she turned back to the boiling pot of rice on the stove “What Are cooking?” He asked as he stood over the aisle to see what she was stirring. “Rice so far, do you want chicken, fish or beef to go with it?” She asked as she turned to the still staring blonde, his eyes wavering as she stared back at him “Are you okay Suki?” [ ] said again as he pushed himself up , crossing around the aisle before going to her side “You don't have to do this for me” He said as she ignored him “ So Chicken is fine?” “[ ], i'm not a child you don't have to keep treating me like one” Sighing the girl turned to him, seeing that he was hunched over the counter, stretching his back as she could see the pained expression as he pulled out the muscle “Sit down yeah? Consider this an early birthday present to you” [ ] said as he gave her a glare “That doesn't mean you have to constantly cook and do shit like this for me, I have two weeks before it anyway” “Katsuki, sit down and take the kindness i'm giving you and hush” Pointing with her stirring spoon [ ] shooed the now grumbling and fussing blonde away. Just a usual day in the apartment

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

Hearing a loud cuss from the living room [ ] got up to see her roommate slump against the door, face tensed in apin as he ganced to the concerned girl “Shit, fix your face princess ‘m fine, just a bit of - fuck…- jsut soem pain is all” Reaching for the blonde [ ] helped him in, the larger male trying to hold up his weight as much as he could as she helped him to their bigger bathroom, sitting him on the toilet “Do you have any cuts or anything? Should we go to the doctor?” [ ] asked as a large hand sat over hers that went for his shirt “Im okay [ ], just some bruising and some little cuts here and there okay? Don't worry your pretty head about me” Feeling her face heat up she ignored what he said and started to help him out of his clothes, showing her a dark and slightly bloody mess of his rib cage. Wincing from the sight alone she started to lightly clean around the open wounds and surface scrapes around them. As she did he told her about the recent building that was destroyed from him using his blast too intense in one area like the villains he fought wanted him to. Another bad habit of BAkugous was beating himself up when he felt like he did poorly, which took a lot of trying to get him to let out. He would just overwork himself instead of relaxing and taking time to cool off and realize he wasn't the issue. “Any pain when I push here?” with a slight push bakugou hissed, eyes closing as she pressed deeper on his rib cage “Sorry sorry” Wrapping him up as tight as he could take [ ] stooped to look over his injuries, a frown on her lips “Stop it” Bakugou said, causing the girl to blink at him “ Stop what?” She asked as he met her eyes in the mirror “You're pouting. I'm a big boy thats what me being a hero is for i can take it , don't baby me” Her frown now deeping [ ] pushed his shoulder “Well you need a break , last week you were babying your shoulder now your ribs, im calling you in sick” Growling Bakugou went to sat something until he saw her face ; fear. She was afraid one night he wouldn't come home, that it would be the others telling her he was gone permanently. With a deep sigh he reached for her hand, pulling her back to him as he gave her a hug. Concerned and trying to come to her racing heart she looked up to those deep eyes of his, the same concert starting to fill them “ [ ]...i'll take the week off it makes you happy and rest, I’ll be okay alright? Just...please..I dont want to disappoint the one person who helps me even when im stupid and tells me what i need to hear without just agreeing with me” Shocked at his words all [ ] could do was rub his arm and bury her face in his warm chest, inhaling the smell of smoke and burnt caramel from his skin “Oi princess..” He rasped out as she just hummed , not moving from her spot. With ease the still injured blonde picked her up effortlessly and placed her on the sink, causing her to cry out. Slowly he let his hands trace her face, their eyes studying the other as he pressed his forehead to hers “Thank you..for dealing with me” He whispered against her lips as they slowly closed the gap between them, lips sealing in a soft peck. As soon as it happened it was over, Bakugou pulled away before he got too invested. Biting his bottom lip he gave her a lopsided smile, heading to his bedroom

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

4/20, The day of the birthday boy Katsuki rolled in a lot faster than he thought it would. Sitting up slowly he looked around his dark room, the bright light of 2:00 am mocking him as he got up to go to his kitchen. Seeing [ ] humped over at the computer sparked the explosion heros curiosity. Finishing his glass of water she came over to her, seeing that she had one last piece of paper in her hands that strangely looked like….

“Are those my reports?” a deep voice rumbled out. Letting out a screech [ ] jumped, turning in the swiveling chair to an almost adorable sight. A shirtless and sleepy Bakugou was rubbing his eyes as he let himself focus on her “Uhm...well yeah they are. They're all done now!” [ ] said as she gave him a wide smile whined the blondes' frowns deeped “You did all of my paperwork?” He said in disbelief as she looked at her hands , picking at her hand “Well yeah...I wanted you to have a non stressful birthday” She admitted as he scoffed , getting closer to her as he wrapped his arms around her neck and the top of the chair “You're so sweet...too good for me….” He grumbled as he hid his face in the nervous girl's neck. Gasping as she felt his hot lips kiss the junction of her neck she couldn't help but lean over more . letting him absentmindedly kiss her all over her shoulder and neck, little ‘Thank yous’ spilling from the tired man's lips. Still following his same path he worked his way up to her cheek, basking in the little laugh she let out as he nuzzled under her chin. Slowly what happened a few days ago repeated itself, they were face to face as his still sleep swarming eyes stared back at her curious ones. Tapping her bare leg from her seat she moved as he took her by the arm to his room. Hearing her heart in her ears [ ] sucked in a breath as he flopped on his luxury bed, making grabby hands at the standing girl. Giggling [ ] crawled in the bed with him as he pulled her on top of him “[ ]....” He groaned as she looked at him. Licking his lips as whispering Bakugou spoke “ I really like you...You and shitty hair dont have to do much for me all i want is you…” He said as she gave him a wide eyed look, not sure she heard him right “Yeah im finally admitting it...ive had a crush on you for a while...i never noticed it until Shitty hair called me out for having a worse mood when that good for nothing vibrating little shit tried to steal you from me at the banquet” As the comfortable silence filled the room he spoke up again “ And i really...wanna kiss you….but im scared you wouldn't like me back...after all these years of dealing with my shit and how i can be...your like a godsend to me..” As he opened his eyes to her he was surprised to feel her lips press against his , full and warm. Slowly he wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her in his lap as they kissed more and more, the kiss becoming deeper as she pulled away, whispering a soft ‘ I love you’ as he kissed her again until they drifted to sleep in eachothers arms.

[marmosa]

you mean it?

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: none

A/N: i saw this concept done by someone else and it finally kicked my writing brain into gear and i couldn’t not write my own take on it (love potion shenanigans). my requests are currently open because i’ve been at a lack of my own ideas, so feel free to drop a request or two, i’ll be writing up a few of them! in the mean time, i hope you’re all doing well and as always i hope you enjoy <3

*** 

“How do I know you didn’t mess with my drink?”

Fred and George exchanged knowing glances, both unwilling to let on that they did, in fact, tamper with her drink.

“Look, I’m not one to be selective when handed free butterbeer, however if anything I would like to not have my hair dyed against my will again, however cool it may look,” [y/n] sighed, holding her drink up to the light to try and see if there truly was anything suspicious she could note within its contents.

“Would you just trust us?” Fred pleaded, clasping his hands together and shaking them like a child trying not to get grounded.

“Do we look like we’d ever hurt you?” George added, smiling innocently.

“Yes, yes you would,” [y/n] deadpanned, “like when Fred dropped me 50 feet off your broom and nearly missed me when he tried to catch me, or when you gave me food poisoning because the potion you put in my lunch was faulty, or the time that you both nearly killed me with a miscalculated firework, or-,”

“Okay we get it!” The twins groaned, Fred reaching forward to press his hand flat over her mouth to get her to be quiet.

“Just trust us on this one, okay?” George begged, squeezing her shoulder as she eyed the butterbeer unsurely once more.

“Fine, bottoms up lads, hope I don’t end up in the infirmary!” [y/n] cheered half-heartedly, shaking the bottle before downing it like a shot.

“So?” Fred asked, nearly jumping in his spot as the twin both eyed her excitedly.

“So what?” she repeated, scrunching her nose at the weird aftertaste in her mouth, “it was just a-,” her voice trailed out as her eyes zeroed in on Fred, her mouth suddenly running dry.

“Nothing, absolutely nothing! See, Fred, I told you we needed to add less Borage and more Belladonna!” George cursed, shuffling through his book bag for his notebook he kept for notes on these certain instances.

As the twins got lost in their tweaking of the potion, it completely slipped past them that [y/n] was quite literally going through an internal awakening, her mind spinning as she took in the boy before her.

Why was Fred so suddenly at the forefront of her mind? His strong facial features, soft swooping locks, lean and athletic build, all of it was flooding her brain and she felt like she was going to explode. She felt as if she could count every single freckle on his face is she wanted to. Her eyes trailed down to the empty bottle in her hand and it quickly clicked before the potion flooded over her inhibition and stole her capacity to think clearly.

“You’re cute,” she blurt out, her eyes widening in shock before sinking down comfortably, her face relaxing into one of pure adoration, “like really cute.”

The twins halted their discussion and slowly turned to her, their eyes ready to nearly pop out of their heads. They exchanged surprised and then excited glances, George immediately getting to editing his notes.

“[y/n], how do you feel?” Fred questioned, eyeing her up and down as she beamed up at him with a newfound sort of confidence.

“I’m doing fine, darling, why do you ask?” she replied, pressing her fingers against her temples as a surge of sense surged through her, “wait, what- what’s going on?”

“Did the potion work?” George asked, leaning forward to squint into her eyes which she leaned backwards to avoid, her eyes never tearing away from Fred’s who stood there rigid as can be.

“George, I think it worked just fine,” Fred muttered, pulling his brother back by his shoulder, “dosage was a bit off, but it worked.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I don’t mind, you have a lovely voice,” [y/n] lilted, tilting her head to the side as she took a step closer towards Fred.

“Oh shit, she-,”

“Saw me. Yup,” Fred finished George’s sentence, pulling his lips into a tight line.

“But it shouldn’t be a problem since you- OW!” George yelped when Fred pinched his arm, shaking his head in an unspoken “shut up”.

“Uh [y/n], I think we should take you up to your room, you look like you need a nap,” Fred chuckled uneasily, reaching forward but retracting his hand last minute when her eyes nearly popped out of her skull at the contact.

“But I don’t want to be away from you,” she pouted, sagging forward and slinging her arms around his neck, twirling the hairs at the nap of his neck around her pointer finger, “I’ll die without you Freddie.”

Fred chuckled and unwrapped her arms from his neck, pushing her back onto her own feet, “yeah, you most certainly need a nap. Let’s get you back to your dormitory and then we’ll talk about me leaving alright?”

“Sounds lovely,” she hummed, leaning into his side and hooking her arm with his.

“I’ll take care of taking her to keep down a fuss, you run and go see if you can make an antidote, though I hardly think we’ll need it since she keeps coming to on her own,” Fred explained, getting a curt nod from George who ran off to go fix something up.

“Did you know you have such pretty eyes?” [y/n] giggled, reaching forward and brushing his hair out of his face, “You’re even cuter when you blush too.”

Fred wanted nothing more than to go and swim to the very bottom of the black lake right then as he realized she’d picked up on the bright red hue dusting his cheeks, but he couldn’t leave her on her own, he knew that would cause a bigger fuss than any of them wanted.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, not used to being on the receiving end of such forward flirting, “lets get you to your dormitory.”

***

“But you can’t leave! Freddie, darling, please! I can’t be without you, I cannot!” [y/n] pleaded helplessly, clinging to his robes with balled fists.

“[y/n], you most certainly can be without me for a few moments,” Fred tried to sooth her distress, holding her up by her shoulders to keep her from sinking onto the floor.  

“I can’t! Freddie I’m in love with you, I simply cannot be apart from you, it’ll hurt too much,” she nearly cried, plopping down on the nearest bed, her eyes already watering over.

Fred chewed on the inside of his cheek, thoroughly embarrassed that he was partially responsible for putting her through this, “Look, hey, hey look at me, don’t cry please?”

She sniffled, looking up at him as he sat next to her, the comforter sinking down beneath them, “I can’t help but cry when you say you’re going to leave me!”

“I know, it’s hard, if I could take you with me, I would darling, trust me. But you know the dormitory rules, McGonagall would have my head on a stick,” Fred explained, reaching forward and brushing away the stray tear that rolled down her cheek.  

Her eyes widened a bit as she relished in the attention, her clouded mind basking in the sweet affection and reassurance he was giving her. She hummed quietly and leaned her head onto his shoulder, her head twinging as the effects of the potion wavered once more.

“Fred, where are we?”

“[y/n]! You’ve come back to?” Fred exclaimed, leaning back to observe her face scrunched in discomfort, confusion quickly overtaking him when her face laxed into bliss again.

“I’m- I’m fine now that you’re staying here with me,” she nodded, throwing herself over his lap, beaming up at him when he looked back at her all flustered, “you’re so pretty, did you know that?”

“I didn’t, no,” he chuckled awkwardly, tearing his gaze away from her love-sick eyes, his heart about ready to beat out of his chest.

“Well you are. You are oh so pretty, Freddie dear, a proper beauty if I ever did see one,” she sighed dreamily, walking her fingers up his chest to tap her finger gently at the tip of his nose.

He scrunched his nose at the feather light touch, pursing his lips disapprovingly when she giggled at his discomfort, “thank you, [y/n].”

“It’s my pleasure darling,” she chirped, fluttering her eyes shut, “I think you were right about me needing a nap.”

“I’m always right, [y/l/n],” he mused, leaning back on his arms to give her more room to get comfortable in his lap, “but if you’re tired you should get into bed, I don’t think you’d do well laying on my knees.”

“But they’re comfortable, I could lay here all day,” she hummed contentedly, folding her hands over her stomach, “I could spend all my time with you and never grow bored of your company.”

“You flatter me far too much,” He mumbled, glancing away again to try to hide the flaming red quickly overtaking his features.

“I don’t flatter you enough,” she replied simply, already starting to nod off, “but that’ll change. I love you so much, darling, I will flatter you for the rest of my days if it makes you happy.”

“That would indeed make me very happy,” Fred smiled softly, smoothing his hand over her cheek as she finally dozed off.

***

“Okay I think I’ve got something!”

Fred’s head snapped up from the book in his lap as George burst into the room, holding a small vile in his hand. Fred shushed him, nodding up from the floor to [y/n]’s sleeping figure behind him on the bed.

“Oh, sorry,” George whispered, “but I’ve got something fixed, I even got it doubled checked by a professor who promised not to tell.”

“Do you have a drink?” Fred asked, pushing himself off the floor to take the vile from his brother to inspect himself.

“No more butterbeer, unfortunately, but on my way here I nicked a small bottle of apple cider from the Hall, so that should do it,” George explained, pulling an almost shot glass out of his robes pocket.

“Brilliant, that should do it, I’ll wake her up,” Fred nodded, handing the potion back to his brother, and heading over to [y/n], “hey sleepy head, you gotta wake up.”

“Mmm,” [y/n] muttered, rolling over on her side as she opened her eyes soflty, “Freddie!”

He chuckled softly as she reached up towards him blindly, her eyes still shut as they readjusted to the sudden burst of light, her hands wrapping around his neck and pulling him down towards her.

“Hey, careful there, don’t wanna break me in two, do you,” Fred laughed, [y/n] releasing him with a soft gasp as her eyes snapped open once more.

“I don’t want to snap you in half, that would be dastardly, darling,” she explained, obviously distraught at the insinuation of injuring him.

“Well, since you’re up, George here’s did you the favor of getting you something to drink, it’s apple cider, I remember you saying that you really liked it,” Fred smiled warmly, taking the drink from George who stepped back, amused at the awkward situation they were put in but endeared at his brother being so uncharacteristically soft.

“Well if you say it’s my favorite, it probably is, you’re too sweet to lie to me Fred,”  [y/n] grinned, swirling the drink around in its bottle, “would you like some?”

“No thank you, I’ve just about had enough to drink today, I think it’d do better if you had it all,” He nodded, “Besides if I want some I can always go get my own.”

“Good point darling, thank you for the drink,” she mused before downing its contents whole.

It didn’t take long to see the potion take effect as her face scrunched into one of disgust before smoothing out into one of confusion, “that tasted like shit what the bloody hell was that- wait, what happened?”

Fred and George both let out a simultaneous breath of relief, momentarily cheering amongst themselves as [y/n] stared up at them with a quizzical look.

“Well I suppose you deserve an explanation,” George muttered sheepishly, taking the empty shot glass from her hand and tossing it in the nearest bin.

“That would be nice, yes,” she frowned, rubbing at her temples as her skull pulsed, the potion finally washing out all the previous effects of the other potion, “I don’t remember much except for drinking the butterbeer- what the hell did you guys put in it.”

“Promise not to get mad?” Fred bat his eyelashes innocently, tilting his head to the side with clasped hands to emphasize the effect.

“I think we’ve gone far past that, but I guess so,” she grumbled, shifting so she was laying down to accommodate her now twinging headache.

“We might’ve, possibly, on accident, give you love potion,” George laughed uneasily, trying his best to diffuse the tension, knowing he was failing miserably.

“Well who was I fancying? Who did I make a fool of myself in front of?” she asked from under the arm she’d slung over her face to block out the light.

Fred chuckled awkwardly, pulling the inside of his cheek between his teeth. [y/n] lifted her arm and looked at Fred with wide eyes, her mouth falling open as the gears in her head rolled to a conclusion. George rolled onto the balls of his feet, shuffling towards the door as Fred and [y/n] got lost in their own world, slipping out of the room as soon as he could.

“No,” She groaned, “No!”

Fred sunk into himself as he watched her roll over and curl up into a ball, almost like a frightened pill bug. He wanted to escape the room just as George had done, he wanted to pretend this had never happened, he wanted to run and hide in his room until this entire prank had blown over. What made it worse was he didn’t think he was going to have to hear her verbal rejection of true feelings for him so soon.

“It wasn’t that bad if that makes you feel any better,” Fred muttered, shuffling over and sitting at the foot of her bed.

“Wasn’t bad- tch,” she sat up and stared at him with demanding eyes, “what did I even say? Wait, don’t tell me, it’ll just make me feel worse.”

[y/n] fell backwards again and pressed her palms into her eyes, letting out a shaky breath. She didn’t want to look at Fred, not even wanting to face him right now, she made a mental note to strangle George later for slipping away when she was so plainly swallowed in shock and humiliation. It was unfathomable that she was so outwardly love-sick to a boy who most certainly didn’t see her as anything other than a friend, and now she had to hear his rejection up front.

“It really wasn’t anything bad. If anything, it was just really forward flirting,” Fred tried to sooth her, still feeling guilty for the turmoil she was facing.  

“But it probably made you so uncomfortable and you probably had to babysit me while you were uncomfortable and now I’m gonna be so awkward about everything and you probably hate me,” she confessed, wanting nothing more than to just shrink into herself and forget she was there.

“I truly didn’t mind it at all, I actually found it sort of endearing, actually,” He mumbled, looking away to avoid any and all eye-contact.

“You didn’t?” she replied, taken aback that he wasn’t as disgusted as she’d thought he’d be.

“Not at all. It was the first time someone so outwardly flirted with me and it was kind of nice coming from you. You said I had pretty eyes,” He chuckled to himself, still staring holes into the floor.

[y/n] was speechless. Of all the horribly embarrassing things she probably did and said, that was the one thing he chose to relay to her. She wasn’t sure how to proceed after that, not being able to tell if he was simply being nice and recalling a gentle interaction or if he was truly being honest about his feelings.

“What else did I say?” She asked quietly, sitting up and scooting over so she was sitting somewhat next to him.

“You said you loved me,” He smiled softly, “and you did this,” he imitated her earlier actions, walking his fingers up from her collarbones to tap her nose with his finger, smiling when she scrunched her nose just as he had done.

“I did, didn’t I? Well,” she shrugged, offering him a smile of her own, boldly reaching forward and tucking his hair behind his ear, “that was a proper rubbish potion then. It’s suppose to make you say things you don’t mean, isn’t it?”

Fred nearly collapsed in on himself, a blissful grin pulling its way onto his lips, “You love me?”

“You’d think that was clear by now,” [y/n] giggled.

“I just wanted to make sure before I did this.”

“Did what?” she quipped, looking at him quizzically.

“This,” he reached forward and cupped her cheek, pulling her face to his and connecting their lips.

As soon as the initial shock factor fell away [y/n] was giving her entire self into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in as close as she could in their awkward positioning. Fred didn’t hesitate either, pouring all the pent up feelings he’d been hiding throughout the day into the kiss. It was over as quick as it had started, the both of them pulling away with the sweet smiles.

“I’m thinking we should spike your drinks more often,” Fred suggested cheekily, biting back a laugh when her face fell into a glare.

“If you even think of doing that again, I will not only never kiss you again, I will never speak to you again,” she snapped, “what happened to the Fred that was so sweet a little while ago.”

“Hey! I’m still sweet!” Fred scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest and pouting like a child who’d just gotten their toy taken away from them.

“Don’t think so,” she shrugged, scooting away from him until she was resting against the headboard.

“Don’t think so? Oh I’ll show you just how sweet I can be, come here,” he grinned mischievously, crawling over and dragging her down by her hips.

“Hey, careful there!” she squealed, bracing herself on his shoulders.

“You wanted me to be sweet? Careful what you wish for love, you just might get it,” he teased, leaning down and capturing her lips once more. 

[staywritten]

Roommates│Han Jisung (M)

Synopsis: Jisung is a selfish, rude and loud roommate but he’s also really cute and you can’t help but develop a crush or ignore the unspeakable tension.  Roommate!Au

Genre: A tiny bit of angst, Smut

Word Count: 3k

When you responded to an ad for a roommate online, you figured the worst thing that could happen to you was that you’d be killed by some stranger in your sleep. Especially because the ad was far too good to be true. The apartment was beautiful, an in-unit washing machine, walking distance to campus, and work, and its rent was a steal. Especially in Seoul. Unfortunately your roommate wasn’t some creepy serial killer who dwelled in a basement and rarely interacted with you. No, he was a young attractive inconsiderate asshole testing your patience.

Admittedly you were a bit flustered with you first met him. His gummy smile was your weakness, his cheeks so squishy it took everything in you not to poke them, and when he worked out around the apartment, wearing that cut off tank you loved so much, you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together to relieve the pressure.

And as smitten as you were with his appearance you wanted to fight him about 80% of the time.

From how he always took too long in the shower on days he knew you had class, how he always ate your food. Knowing damn well he wasn’t the one who bought it. How his dates would always use your shampoo the morning after, how his stupidly attractive friends were always over without warning. And the worst offense of them all. His damn music.

It was the middle of the night, you had stupidly agreed to cover your coworkers 8am shift on what was normally your day off and Jisung had his friends over. Again. You knew what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to live with a music major. But not just a music major, a music major that was an underground rapper, with lots of friends who frequented your apartment. 

Especially in the middle of the night after a show.

You tried to keep your outburst to a minimum. Sharing a space was about compromise. And you tried your damnedest to compromise. You bought noise-canceling headphones, you stuffed a towel under the bottom of your door to try and buffer the music, you tried having an asmr video of thunderstorms playing. You even attempted banging on the wall to get his attention to lower the volume.  Anything and everything to drown him out. But by 3am, you could not only hear the beats booming against the shared wall but the laughter of his friends.

“Oh my god. I can’t” you groaned, throwing the blanket off and storming over the whole five feet it took to get to his door. “Yah! Han Jisung!” you knocked on his door vigorously, to ensure he heard you. You knocking not letting up until he opened up.

He swung open the door, a scowl on his face at the interruption.

Originally you were planning on politely asking him to turn down the music. And that cordial thought went straight out the window the moment you saw him. It was like all you could see was red. Here you were frustrated in the middle of the night and he had the nerve to look that attractive. His snapback pushing back his hair, displaying his forehead. Honestly it made him look like a fuck boy and it was a weakness. “Do you ever sleep?! It’s 3am!”

His mood immediately went on the defensive when you started yelling. “I live here too, and the last time I checked I don’t have a bedtime!”

“You are such an asshole! Turn the music down!” you hated that your immediate response was to stomp your foot like a child. But he was being childish too!

“You can’t tell me what to do” he scoffed rolling his eyes. “If I wanna play music until 6am I can!”

“You are so inconsiderate!”

“Me? What about you!? You always act like I’m the problem. I don’t complain when you’re being a pig! I clean everything” he rolled his eyes “You’re not perfect I just don’t whine about it”

Your eyes widdened at the sudden attack “If my mess bothers you then just clean it up or tell me about it! Don’t try and throw it in my face in a conversation about something else!”

“You’re the one that came over here to pick a fight with me! I have guests and you barley even wear clothes! You’re the one being inconsiderate” He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth and he saw how immediately you looked uncomfortable. 

But there was no backing down now.

You immediately folded your arms over your chest, feeling far more exposed than you had realized. But it was the middle of the night. You were in your sleep clothes. Which tonight consisted of a pair of comfy short shorts, and a thin t-shirt. You were flustered and caught off guard with his attack. Suddenly you could feel the gaze of his friends, looking at you and you just felt so exposed.

He wanted to apologize the moment he saw your eyes glaze over. The frustrated embarrassed look becoming more noticeable. “I-”

“Do what you want” you mumbled before hurrying back to your room, slamming your door hard.

He groaned before slamming his door as well. He continues playing music throughout the night, even after his friends left. He knew he was doing it out of pettiness. But he hated that you came and yelled at him, and then he ended up feeling guilty.

It was always like that. 

It was like everything he did pissed you off and he couldn’t help that you were sensitive to everything. You nagged him all the time. And if he wanted to be nagged he could have continued living with his mother. You even managed to guilt him after his one night stands left. It was uncomfortable. Why should he have to live like this? He did his best to make sure you lived comfortably. He knew living with a guy could be kinda uncomfortable so he never hit on you, made sure his friends never made a pass at you and you always make it hard for him.

He knew you were attractive and everything you wore was gonna be sexy but you could try harder to be ugly. He didn’t want to fight with you but he opened the door and the first thing he noticed was just how stunning you looked in such a simple outfit, one that he never really saw. You usually wore hoodies, or a robe when you walked around the common areas. And just as quickly as he took in the exposed skin, you yelled at him. Your hair was messy, your clothes disheveled, the neck of your v-neck falling off your shoulder. You just looked so kissable-so fuckable. And he couldn’t, so he threw a tantrum.

He’d figure out how to make it up to you tomorrow, he knew it was your day off so he figured he’d make breakfast as an apology.

He rolled out of bed bright and early to get started on your favorite breakfast but frowned seeing you drinking coffee and eating some bread. You were already dressed and ready for the day. He noticed the dark circles under your eyes, you rolling your neck stiffly. He looked at his phone checking the time. “Why are you awake?”

You rolled your eyes, and downed your coffee. “I have to go to work” you placed your cup in the sink, making sure to wash it and put it away before grabbing your bag. “Sorry if my exposed legs offend you, I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“Today’s your day off.” he ignored your little stab at him, he felt bad enough.

“I had to cover someone's shift.” you spat, shooting him a glare.

“Why didn’t you tell me last night...I would have-”

“You wouldn’t have care. I asked you to turn the music down…” you sighed heavily and walked over to the door, slipping your shoes on. “You never care.”

“Why didn’t you tell me...I would have never had the guys over if-” he jumped as you walked out slamming the door shut.

But that’s how things were between you two. 

There was an undeniable tension, but after a few days it’d slowly die down. He’d ask you what you wanted for breakfast and things went back to normal. He never apologized for being inconsiderate, you never apologized for throwing a temper tantrum. It may not have been the healthiest but it worked.

Being roommates was about compromise right?

It’d been about two weeks since your last argument with Jisung and for all intents and purposes things were going well. He’d been more mindful of having people over only on the weekends, and keeping the music to a minimum on days you had early shifts. And you had been more mindful to clean and stay in your room when he had his friends over.

You yawned walking out of your bedroom, padding over to get a glass of water. Jisung was cozy on the couch with a blanket, flipping through movies to watch. “You enjoy your nap? It’s like midnight”

You nodded and grinned, downing your water. “It was the best four hour nap I’ve ever had. And the best part is I’m off tomorrow so I can sleep in.” You cleaned your cup before walking to him. “What are you doing back so early? Didn’t you have a date?”

He sighed before rubbing his temples “I did.” his tone curt and short.

“That bad huh?” you sat beside him, hugging your legs to your chest. “Wanna talk about it?”

“I picked her up, we had dinner…” he hesitated looking back to you, trying to read your expression. “And…”

You smirked, raising your eyebrow. “Had sex?” you laughed “I’m a big girl Jisung. I know what sex is.”

“I know- we just never talk about it or dating in general and stuff...I didn’t know if that was weird…” he fiddled with his sweater uncomfortably. “Like you don’t bring guys back…”

“Jisung no offence but, I don’t bring guys back when you’re home. It’s kinda uncomfortable too, and I don’t like scaring guys off with the My roommates is a guy, talk on first dates.”

“Woah- wait you brought guys back here after the first date?”

“Sometimes” you grinned, eyeing him “Han Jisung… You seem so surprised” your tone light and teasing. “Is it so hard to imagine that even I have sex?”

“No it’s just… “

“I’ll have you know I’m actually quite charming.”

“Oh I know” he looked a little embarrassed at how quickly it slipped out. “Like I know you’re hot and charming and… I dunno I just feel a little in the dark...I didn’t even know you were dating and yet I-”

“Bring your dates back home all the time.” you gave him a smug smile “Trust me, I know” you pointed to the walls. “They’re thin, remember? Oh and your dates always use my shampoo and body wash”

“I’m sorry…. That’s kinda rude isn’t it?”

You shook your head “Live comfortably”

“But you don’t…”

“Jisung, I don’t bring guys home when you’re here because I don’t want you to have to hear us.” you cheeks warmed as you chewed on your lower lip. “I’m kinda loud, I’m a little self conscious.”

“I wanna hear…” he turned toward you, his voice barely above a whisper. Part of him was hoping you didn’t hear him over the Netflix trailers, the other part of him prayed you heard him so he couldn’t chicken out.

“Do you?” your eyes darkened as you stared at him, slowly moving closer to him. He took in a sharp breath before pulling you into his lap. You grinned, straddling him, your lips inching closer to his before pulling away. Just ghosting the slightest bit, loving how he chased you. “Tell me bout your date and I’ll do whatever you want”

“Isn’t that kinda weird?” he tried to read your expression, but his wary look turned into one of intrigued as your smile grew. “Wait… Could you hear us earlier…?” He felt himself getting turned on more, as he noticed how warm you were, how flushed you got thinking about it. “I thought you were asleep…’

“You guys woke me up” you licked your lips, your hips moving against his just slightly. He stifled a groan before steadying your hips.

“It turns you on doesn’t it...? Hearing us?” Seeing your coy smile, he grabbed your jaw before pulling you into a deep kiss. His lips moved quickly against yours, as he nipped and chewed on your bottom lip. “Mmm…” He pulled your hoodie over the top of your head and groaned seeing your bare chest. “No shirt or bra?” he traced your soft, smooth skin, running his fingers up your sides.

“I never wear a bra at home” he smirked against your skin, kissing down your neck.

“You never answered my other question…” his teeth grazed your skin, reaching your nipples “Mmm such a pretty color Baby…” he whispered, his eyes peeking up at you as he peppered kisses before taking the bud into his mouth, sucking softly. His free hand palming your other one, gently tweaking your nipples. He loved how it made your squirm. You hips, desperate for friction. Almost angered by how much both your sweatpants got in the way. “Do you get turned on when you hear me have sex…? Did you wish it was you? Do you touch yourself…?” he chuckled, kissing your nipples, his teeth tracing them. Your head rolled back as you whined bucking your hips more. “Pay attention baby...answer me.”

“I get turned turned on…” your pout deepened before you cupped his squishy cheeks. “I wished it was me...and I always touch myself…” you leaned down closer to his ear, your lips brushing against the shell of his. “And I always cum…”

He gripped your hips tighter, digging into your skin. “Fuck….I…” he gripped your bottom, moving you closer to his crotch. “How many times did I make you cum tonight…?” his voice dropping an octave as he teased you. His fingers found their way into your sweatpants, teasing you from the outside of your panties. “Mmm and since when do you wear sweatpants?”

“I thought you said I didn’t wear enough clothes”

“Yeah when my friends are over and I’m trying to not fantasize about fucking you over every surface” he chuckled, rubbing a bit harder feeling your panties moistened. “Answer me Sweet girl….How many times did you cum?”

“Nnnn...how do you know I’m sweet?” you shivered as his finger rubbed against your slit. “You’ve never tasted me” you moaned softly.

“Stop trying to distract me, if you’re a good girl and answer me and I will.”

“T-twice…”

“I’m gonna double that” he whispered before tossing you on your back on the couch, making quick work of your sweatpants and panties.

You grinned as he settled himself between your legs. His mouth covered your core, as his tongue made its way inside you. Your thigh hooked around his shoulder as he deepened his teasing. “A-Ahh Jisung… you’re no fair” you panted “You never told me about your date”

“You minx” he grinned, pulling back just slightly pushing his index finger inside of you, curling it and watching you squirm. “You heard us, you know exactly why my date went badly.”

You shivered, gripping the arm of the couch. “But I want you to say it.” you licked your lips. “Please...I wanna hear it-Ah!”

He teased, shoving another finger inside of you, pumping it in and out. “Did it make you cum when you heard me call out your name instead?” his voice low and husky.

You nodded, squirming more from his teasing. “You sounded so sexy when you moaned my name” you reached down pulling at his shirt, pulling it over the top of his head. “I know you didn’t get to finish” you grinned. “Should I be nice and let you finish in me?”

“Please…” You ran your hand down his toned chest, the efforts of his workouts paying off so beautifully. He pressed his mouth over your center again, relentlessly, teasing and fingering you until you were a moaning mess. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you pressed him into you, desperate to cum, you were so close. But more than his tongue, more than his fingers, the thing that brought you closer to the edge was his intense eye contact. It was both shy and dominating. He just never looked away and for the rare moments he did, the way his gaze flashed up at you made you feel so flustered. “J-Jisung” you moaned out, your stomach tightening as you shivered. He helped you ride out your high, his fingers relentlessly moving until you came against him.

“Such a pretty girl…” he licked the slick off his lips before meeting your lips again. “You were so good for me..”

“I can be better” you reached for the growing tent in his pants, rubbing him. “Let me..” you crawled closer to him, wanting to return the favor.

“No baby.. I don’t need it. Right now all I need is you.”

“But-”

“I’ve literally been thinking about you all night, I promise if you put your lips on me, I’m not gonna last.” he gave you a sheepish look, almost embarrassed from his confession. 

“Fine” you pouted pulling his sweatpants and boxers down his thighs.

“Don’t pout” he chuckled, kissing your jaw. “Next time Baby”

He was fully erect, pre-cum leaking from his swollen head. You smiled, wrapping your fingers around him and rubbing him firmly. “I need you…”

His head rolled back as he closed his eyes. The feeling of your fingers around him was like a dream. “Mmm Baby, I need to get a condom”

You shook your head and grinned, your grip tightening a little. “No~I want you now…” 

“You serious?”

“I wanna feel you Jisung~ Can’t I? Will you let me?” your voice so soft as you coaxed him into a deep kiss. Your tongue rolling against his “Please?”

“You beg for me so well..Fuck-yes Baby” you rubbed himself against your wet entrance, slowly pushing himself inside. There it was again, that beautiful eye contact, that little furrow in his brow when he concentrated, his soft lips pulling into a pout as he moved against you. Your arms wrapped around his neck, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck.

“It’s ok, you can go harder.” you encouraged him.

And that was all he needed before he began to pound into you more vigorously. His hands moving down your body, cupping your breast and rubbing against your side. Like he was just desperate to touch everywhere. His lips occasionally finding yours to tease. “C’mere…”

He pulled you onto his lap again, his back against the couch as he let you ride him. He hit deeper at the new angle, and you loved every second of it. You arched your back, gripping the couch as you moved your hips faster, in a circular motion to stimulate yourself. 

His lips sucking the soft skin of your neck, leaving a mark as you moved. His strong hands on your hips guiding you back and forth on him. “Faster baby” he whispered huskily. Your moans music to his ears, his, your desperate cries of his name, encouraging him more. “I’m almost there, are you close?”

“Not quite but don’t worry about me I-” you moaned out louder, feeling him tease and squeeze your clit. “Ah-Jisung!”

He kept rubbing your clit harder, desperate thrusting into you, his free hand moving your hips harder. “Cum for me Baby…” he whispered sweet nothings against your skin, taking your bottom lip between his teeth. 

He could feel you pick up the pace, your body shivering as your second climax inched closer. “That’s my girl…” he slammed into you, gripping so tight as he released, he kept moving until he felt you cum following not far behind him, just long enough before the over stimulation became too much to handle.

“Jisung” you whined, holding his shoulders to steady him, your face collapsing in his chest as you calmed yourself, and steadied your breathing. You could feel him start to soften inside you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

“Mmm… you’re right you are pretty loud, it’s so sexy” he chuckled running his hand up and down your back.

You pulled back to look at him and pecked his nose softly. “I’m really glad your date ended badly tonight”

“Hell, me too” he laughed “I’ve had a crush on your since you moved in, but kinda figured I shouldn’t try and hit on my roommate” he playfully spanked your behind for you to get up. He grabbed a towel from the bathroom and got you both cleaned off before he tugged back on his sweats, you only bothered to put on a new pair of panties and a t-shirt. He cleaned up your clothes to put near the laundry while shyly looking at you, like he was trying to find the courage to speak.

“What is it?” you leaned against your door frame, watching him fidget with everything in his path from the washing machine to your door.

“I-Um...Do you wanna go on a date tomorrow?” he asked shyly, standing in front of your door. “I know the order is kinda backwards but, I really am interested in you and I was kinda hoping this wasn’t just a one night thing. I mean-If it was that’s cool with me too, like no pressure but”

“You’re rambling” you grinned “I’d love to go out tomorrow.”

“Really?!” he smiled so brightly, his beautiful brown eyes disappearing in a crescent shape as that gorgeous gummy smile graced his face.

“Really” you giggled, subtly touching his hand. “You weren’t the only one with a crush Jisung”

“Can I kiss you goodnigh-” you interrupted his silly question, pressing your lips against his before pulling him into your bedroom.

End.

( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ  Hey Friends I hope you liked that one shot, it was my first smut for stray kids, i know it was kinda long. But it seemed silly to split it up into parts so I hope you didn’t mind >///< If you liked it let me know~

-D���MI

[sokkascroptop]

traitor. (sokka x f!reader) pt 21

part 1 | part 20 | part 22

a/n: annnnnnd another Day of the Black Sun chapter!! I promise this is the last one. I’m really just putting Y/N through it in these last few chapters aren’t I? writing the chapter like this was not the original plan but i had a dream about it and then a very timely anon asked me if y/n was going to be in a Fire Nation prison and I figured... hey why the fuck not you know?

Also! Haruki is Y/N second oldest brother, and again, Ren is her oldest. 

tw: verbal/physical abuse, fighting. Yes, her dad was always going to be this bad of a guy, I just never planned on them meeting up again.

Y/N huddled between Sokka and Katara as the Fire Nation army dropped bombs over where they hid. Aang and Toph had resurrected a small cliff jutting out of the mountainside to protect them, but even that was cracking under the pressure. 

When the bombing stopped, Katara crawled out first. She pointed out towards the water. “Why aren’t they turning around and attacking? They’re headed towards the beach.” 

Aang joined Katara, Sokka and Y/N at the edge of the path. The four of them watched as the airships seemingly retreated from them, headed in the completely opposite direction. 

“They’re going to destroy the submarines!” Aang shouted suddenly. 

As Y/N watched the Fire Nation balloons fly towards the beach, hurrying to destroy their only way out, the pit in her stomach grew larger. After the rest of the failures of today, Y/N wasn’t even surprised. 

“We’re trapped,” she muttered. 

“How are we going to get out of here now?” Sokka asked no one in particular. He was voicing the same question they all had. 

“We aren’t,” Hakoda said from just under the cliff. He leaned on Bato heavily, still holding his injured side. 

“Then we have to stand and fight,” Sokka furrowed his brow in determination. “We have Aang, we can still win.”

“With the Avatar we could still win, but on another day.” Hakoda, with effort, took his arm from around Bato and pulled himself to his full, brawny height. “You kids have to leave.”

Leave? Y/N’s eyes widened at the thought. Was Hakoda possibly suggesting that they leave the rest of his fleet here to fend for themselves?

“What?!” Katara rushed forward to grab her father’s arms. “We can’t leave you behind. We’re not leaving anyone behind.” 

Hakoda bent down to look his daughter in the eyes. “You’re our only chance in the long run. You have to take Aang somewhere safe. You have to keep hope alive.”

Katara looked away from her father, back to her friends. Y/N could see the tears flooding her eyes at the thought of leaving her father behind–losing him–once again. Y/N’s heart ached for Katara. It ached for Sokka too. He was about to take on so much responsibility. He was also about to shove the full brunt of the blame for the invasion plan not working onto his own shoulders; Y/N could already see the guilt wearing on him with the way he looked at his father.

“The adults will stay behind and surrender. We will be prisoners, but we’ll all survive this battle,” Bato said, his voice morose. 

Y/N felt a rush of urgency roll through her body. As much as she could see that Katara and Sokka didn’t like the idea, they weren’t speaking up against it. No one had an idea that was better. Except for maybe Y/N. She couldn’t let the rest of them stay behind like sitting turtle-ducks, waiting to be picked up and imprisoned. She had to do something.

“No way. I’m not going to let that happen.” Y/N’s voice rang through the troops. She didn’t stop there, not after stunning everyone into silence. She approached Hakoda and Katara stepped away to stand next to him. “I can get you out of here.”

Sokka erupted. “You can’t stay behind! You’ll get thrown into prison. You can’t!” He grabbed her hand like he wanted to plead with her but Y/N was already twisting out of his grip. She didn’t need him to make this harder than it already was. 

“No! I can’t just leave knowing I could have done something,” She shouted at Sokka. Y/N turned back to Hakoda. “I know this island. There are forests and mountains and there are thousands of caves to hide in. I can take us there and then no one needs to get caught!” She stared into Hakoda’s eyes with each word she spoke. 

As much as she wished Hakoda would jump at the chance to save himself, he didn’t look convinced that it was worth risking Y/N’s freedom as well. He opened his mouth to speak, to no doubt turn Y/N’s offer down and send her on her way with her friends on Appa, with the adults left behind in the dust to suffer the consequences. 

But Y/N was faster. She spoke around the lump in her throat. “If you stay behind, you won’t live to see the end of this war. And I know that too.” Her voice was low enough that only those around her could hear her words; Katara gasped at her bluntness. 

Even then, Y/N was surprised when Hakoda gave a curt nod to her, much to Sokka’s disapproval. He didn’t have time to give Y/N the lecture he so badly wanted to because just then, The Duke hollered, “They’re at the beaches!”

Y/N turned around to watch in horror as the Fire Nation airships dropped bombs onto the submarines that they had ridden in not 30 minutes ago. They were completely and utterly decimated with so much excessive firepower that Y/N could smell the burning from where they were. With their only escape officially cut off, a nervous murmuring broke out among the troops, and suddenly Y/N was extremely anxious for herself. 

How was she supposed to get a group as large as theirs around in the jungle silently, looking for a hiding place? What had she just gotten herself into?

---

Their goodbyes were quick. They had to be. Katara hugged her first, squeezing her so tight that Y/N thought she would stop breathing. It was a welcome comfort. 

“I trust that you know what you’re doing.” Katara bit her lip. “As much as I hate the idea.” 

“This is our only chance,” Y/N replied. Because what else was she supposed to say? How could she comfort someone else and when she couldn’t even do that for herself.

Katara squeezed her arm. “I know.”

She left only to be quickly replaced by Toph who gave Y/N a very uncharacteristic hug. “You better come back soon. I can’t deal with all of Sokka’s whining while you’re gone.” 

It was meant to be lighthearted; something that would make Y/N giggle, but there was a seriousness to it as well. Did Sokka really rely on her company so much? They hadn’t been separated for more than a few hours since she had joined them. She didn’t want to think what a few days would do to either of them.

“You got it, Toph. Keep everyone safe for me, alright?”

The younger girl nodded and earthbent herself up to Appa’s saddle. 

---

Aang was still staring off at the burning submarines when Y/N approached him from behind, laying a soft hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Everything is going to be okay. I told you, you’re going to have another chance at taking down the Firelord.”

Aang turned to look at her, his eyes were filled with tears. “Only because I have people sacrificing everything for me.”

Y/N nodded. “Sometimes–” she sighed and chewed on her chapped lips. She didn’t need to give the boy a lecture on the hardships of war. He knew far too much of that already. “We know what we’re doing. We want to do this for you. You’re the most important tile on the pai sho board, Aang.”

He shook his head like he didn’t believe her. “I’m taking everyone to the–”

“No.” Y/N broke in and looked away. “Don’t tell me where you’ll be. Just in case.”

Aang looked at her with sad, grey eyes, knowing exactly why she didn’t want to know the location of where he would be hiding out. He squeezed his eyes shut and hugged her before airbending himself to Appa. Y/N watched as he hid his head in a way so that he didn’t have to look at anyone that he was leaving behind; his shoulders shook with sobs. 

---

When Sokka approached her, Y/N unstrapped her sword from her back and held it out to him.

“What are you doing? You might need this.” He said, surprised. His voice was thick with unshed tears. Y/N could tell he was trying to stay strong at the thought of leaving behind so many. His jaw was set and he couldn’t quite look at her directly. 

 Y/N did the same, looking everywhere but Sokka’s eyes, after realizing that was the only thing that was going to stop her from crying in the moment. “I have my knife. Besides, this is assurance that I’ll come back to you. I wouldn’t let you keep it forever.” Y/N let out a watery laugh. 

She wrapped her arms around Sokka and hugged him like she’d never hugged anyone before. She felt so much more grounded when she was around him. She felt like she was finally accepted. It was so hard to let go of that feeling that she had been searching for her whole life. She wanted to remain there, bathed in warmth forever, but she knew she would have to let him go sooner than she wanted to.

“I’m sorry. I’ll see you later.” She whispered the words into his shoulder, because saying goodbye made it too real. 

A quick kiss to the lips and then Appa was gone, carrying her friends and disappearing in the smoke like they had never been there in the first place. Which is exactly what she wanted. 

Y/N allowed herself to take a shuddering breath in and out. She wiped at her tears with the back of her hands and turned to face the troop of warriors she was meant to lead to safety. 

“Let’s go.”

---

They moved as quickly as they could for a group of 20-some-odd warriors and a young girl at their helm. 

In those early years, before she lived at the palace, she would explore her new home in the Fire Nation with her brothers; before Ren joined the army and before Haruki got mean. That meant she knew the terrain well enough to get them around, but keeping them hidden, well that was a whole other story. 

Every time that Y/N heard a branch snap, her head would turn back expecting to see them overrun with Fire Nation soldiers, but it hadn’t happened. And the farther they got from the Royal Caldera City, the easier she began to breathe. That was until she heard shouting in the distance.

Their words weren’t discernible from where she was at, the wind was whipping too hard in the tops of the trees above her, but it was clear that they weren’t safe yet. She had the men pause and crouch down as she pressed a finger to her lips, signaling them to be quiet. It was a pointless motion, no one had said a word since they’d left the cliffs behind. 

“There’s some large caves about 100 yards ahead through the trees,” Y/N whispered to Hakoda. She clamped her lips together as she heard another yell, off in the trees. Much closer this time. 

“Why are you telling me?” Hakoda shook his head. 

“Because I’m going to go draw those soldiers away so you can take everyone there?” Y/N stood up and drew her knife. 

“That’s not a good idea, Y/N.” Hakoda warned.

Y/N wasn’t sure it was either, but she’d made it her duty to get these warriors to somewhere where they could hide. She made a promise to herself that she would do it. “I’m fast. I’ll meet you back there.”

Y/N took off before Hakoda could say anything else to her. 

---

Y/N found the soldiers. She hid between a fork of trees watching them traipse around making far too much noise to be any good at tracking. It didn’t matter though, if they saw them they’d capture them. Y/N chewed on a nail as she thought of a plan to lure them in the opposite direction just to give Hakoda and Bato extra time to lead their group to somewhere safe. 

Y/N flinched as she heard the snap of a twig behind her. She ducked further down into the brush, hoping that the black of her armor and the setting sun would hide her. 

A hand clamped down on her shoulder and Y/N whipped around with her knife ready to embed it in the poor soldier who decided to mess with her.

She pulled back just in time to save Hakoda’s face from a fresh wound. 

She dragged him down next to her in the brush quickly to avoid being seen. “Why did you follow me?”

“Why didn’t you go with the other kids?” He retorted.

Y/N looked away ashamed. She didn’t know how to answer him. How was she supposed to admit that if she had left she would have felt like she was running away. Even though she didn’t think that of Sokka or Aang, she felt it about herself. She never would have been able to justify leaving people behind for her own sake. She deserved it. It was her punishment to stay behind and risk her life. Punishment for leaving Azula, punishment for even thinking like that still, punishment for asking Azula to come with her, punishment for getting Suki thrown in prison. Y/N couldn’t stop the sins she had committed from filling her brain and swirling around until her ears rang. 

“So what’s your plan?” Hakoda asked, interrupting her from her thoughts.

Y/N hadn’t gotten as far as already having a plan made but she wasn’t going to tell him that. “You shouldn’t have come. You’re still hurt.”

“I’m not going to leave you out here alone.”

“You should,” Y/N muttered. 

“Come on,” Hakoda bumped her elbow. “I’ll go around to the other side and we’ll split up and lure them off in that direction.” Hakoda nodded his head in the direction of Capital City. “Then, we’ll double back and head to the cave.”

Y/N nodded and waited for Hakoda to get in position, then she took off running, cutting directly through the group of Fire Nation soldiers in front of her. 

Y/N made as much noise as she possibly could as she ran away from the soldiers, snapping branches and kicking bushes to make sure they were following her. She could hear the pounding of their boots as they chased her through the thicket and distant yelling as they ordered her to stop. Y/N’s heart raced everytime she slipped in the mud or stumbled over roots, thinking that every second would be the one where she was caught. 

What eventually caught her attention was the sound of silence in the forest. Well, as silent as a forest could get. Sure, she could still hear birds in the trees and the wind blowing, but the only sound of footsteps were her own. 

She spared a glance behind her and didn’t see anyone either and so Y/N began to slow to a jog. She was very suddenly aware that if no one was chasing her anymore, the only other person there was to chase was Hakoda. 

But then Y/N ran into a wall.

Except that wall was a person in Fire Nation armor.

And he was grinning like he had just won the lottery. 

---

Y/N pulled her knife but before she could take a stab at him, he grabbed and twisted her wrist, forcing her to drop it. She shrieked as her wrist popped; any more force and it would have broken. Y/N kicked the soldier in the shin and the man grunted, but never let go of her hand. She pulled and pulled against him, but he was easily twice her weight and it was no use. 

Y/N grabbed at his fingers and began pulling them off of her wrist. “Let go!!”

“Stop!” The soldier made a grab for her other hand and Y/N kicked out at him again, trying to keep him as far away as possible. “Stop kicking me!” He yelled.

“Then let go!!” Y/N growled as she grabbed his pinky finger and bent it backwards.

He did at that, yanking his hand away from Y/N’s fingers hastily. 

Someone grabbed her from behind and spun her around to face them. An orange flame danced much too close in her peripheral. Y/N froze in fear as a voice muttered, “If you keep that up, you’ll lose those fingers.” 

---

Y/N didn’t have much to say after that. She allowed the two soldiers to tie her hands behind her back and lead her to a small clearing where the rest of the soldiers waited. Kneeling in the middle, was Hakoda. 

He looked rough. There was a fresh bruise above his eye and there was fresh blood on his shirt; Y/N thought he might have reopened his previous wound on his side. 

Y/N was so embarrassed that she couldn’t even meet his eyes when she was shoved to the ground next to him. Instead, she focused on what was being said around them. Behind her, she could hear the soldier’s whispering about them. They knew who Hakoda was; that one was apparently pretty obvious with his Water Tribe armor, but her, she was an anomaly to them. 

“It doesn’t matter,” one of the soldiers who had captured her said. “They’re both going to the same place. The commander is going to want to talk to anyone who was possibly involved in the invasion. Then he’ll send them off.” 

---

Y/N wasn’t sure if she recognized the compound or not. She’d visited so many when her father was first moved to the Capital City and all of them looked the same. Large stone walls, look-out towers where guards were stationed, gates with metal bars as thick as Y/N’s arms at every entrance and exit. 

The sun was gone and it was pitch black, save for the lanterns lit around the grounds. The cool air had settled and Y/N shivered as her metal armor did nothing to keep her warm. Her hands were still tied behind her back so she couldn’t even wrap her arms around her torso to provide some windbreak. But then again, she also could have been shivering at the anticipation of what was going to come next. 

They were met outside a set of large doors by someone who was high ranking; Y/N could tell by the way the soldier at her side stiffened up at his arrival. He stood just outside of the lamp light and Y/N’s eyes strained to get a look at him. 

“Sir, we found these two running through the woods near where the invasion force was sighted.”

“And the others?” his voice was gravelly and familiar. Y/N held her breath awaiting the answer.

The soldier shook his head shamefully. “No sign of them.”

Y/N was able to relax for a second. Okay, the rest of them were still safely hidden.

The man took that moment to step out of the shadows and Y/N gasped. She knew him, and he knew her by the smile on his face. She flashed back to stuffy dinners at her house where they entertained army officers almost weekly. This was one of her father’s best friends, and if this man was here, he would be too.

“No matter.” He unfolded his hands from behind his back and grabbed Y/N’s chin gruffly. “Look who we caught.”

Y/N jerked her head out of his hand and glared. He pretended to not be perturbed and motioned for the other soldiers to take Hakoda away. 

Y/N freaked out. She thrashed around and did everything in her power to block the soldiers from even touching him. 

“You can’t take him!” she screamed. “Leave him alone! He wasn’t a part of this!”

It took two of them to hold her back.

“Y/N,” Hakoda said. His voice made her grow quiet, her legs felt like jelly underneath her. The look he gave her was grave and it made her heart thud with uncontrollable worry. “It’s okay. Don’t—“

They were already pulling him in the opposite direction they were taking her.

“I know!” She yelled back. He had to know that she would follow his instructions, he had to know that she would do everything in her power to keep quiet. She wasn’t going to turn on them at the first sign of trouble. Never. 

She chanted the words in her head like a psalm: Don’t say anything about Aang. Don’t say anything about the invasion. Don’t say anything. Don’t say anything.

---

Y/N was led gruffly through one set of doors and then another and shoved onto her knees in an office. She was left alone, which wasn’t at all surprising. She was about to get interrogated by the only man she’d never been able to fool. And he wouldn’t want anyone around to witness his disgrace of seeing his own daughter being the enemy.

The door behind her was opened so forcefully it nearly fell off the hinges and Y/N flinched. He took no time walking around her and leaning on the front edge of the desk in the corner. 

Y/N couldn’t see him though, she’d only heard the stomp of his boots on the floor. She had turned her face into her shoulder and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting with bated breath for the yelling.

She could feel his eyes travel over her short hair, her black armor, the red clothes that she still wore; as if she couldn’t choose between familiarity or blatant treason.

With a stroke of bravery that came from within, Y/N took a deep breath and faced him. “Hi Dad.”

---

Y/N was sure flames were going to leap out of his eyes. He was dressed in all his Fire Nation armor as if he had just stepped onto the base from his ship. Y/N used to think it made him look important and regal, the high points on the shoulders of his chest-piece and the arm guards that had had the Fire Nation symbol up the sides in gold. All of that coupled with his build and height made him an intimidating man. Y/N wanted to be like him for so long; now it just looked like he was compensating for his own inadequacies. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Her father’s voice shook with anger. Each word he said was clipped like a punch to the gut. 

“I’m saving the world.”

He scoffed. “You’ve always thought that you were more important than you ever were.” 

“I’m finally doing something for myself.” For some reason Y/N felt like she needed her father to see the reasoning behind her actions, as if he could understand them, he would be more sympathetic. But he’d never been sympathetic towards her. 

“This is the opposite of for yourself!! You’re working against us! Against your family! You’ve betrayed us all, worst of all you’ve betrayed me.” Y/N’s father began to pace in front of her. 

“It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve ever disappointed you,” Y/N muttered. 

“I always knew there was something wrong with you. I thought when you became friends with the Fire Princess, you’d finally found a purpose, but you’ve always been weak-minded. You’re so easily swayed one way or another by the words of others.” 

“No one said a word to sway me in any direction! I made this choice for myself!” Y/N shouted defensively.

“It’s why you can’t firebend,” He continued, not listening to a word that came out of her mouth. “You’ve never been strong enough, you don’t have an inner fire.” 

Y/N sighed as the same song and dance of her childhood circled around her. Her father had always believed that the only reason she was a non-bender was because she simply wasn’t powerful enough to produce flames, not that it was possible she just wasn’t a bender. 

“Why does the conversation always lead back to–”

“Silence!” Y/N’s cheek stung as the back of his hand collided with it. 

 Her father stood in front of her and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You always make me so mad, Y/N.” he said, almost sadly. “I tried to take care of this weeks ago, the second I learned of your rebellion–”

“What?” Y/N whimpered, she looked up at him through wet eyelashes. “What do you mean take care of this? Did–did you send those men after me? To kill me?!”

“You think I wanted to?!” Her father shouted. “You’re a traitor. You turned your back on your nation. You’ve embarrassed me enough. What are they going to think of a commander who’s 15 year old daughter attempted to stage a coup with the Avatar and the Water Tribe savages?” 

Y/N felt lightheaded. She wasn’t even listening to his words anymore. Azula didn’t try and kill her, her own father did. She had blamed Azula for so many things and this was one thing that she was completely innocent of. 

Finally, he turned his back on Y/N. The action was terminal and unwavering. “No one can know you were involved. It will ruin my reputation and I’ll be damned if you do anything more to tarnish the family name.”

Y/N dropped her chin to her chest and let her tears flow freely, now that his eyes were off of her. Never in her wildest dreams did she ever think that her father would do anything as drastic as this. She wouldn’t expect forgiveness from him, that just wasn’t his way, but he was still her father. 

What would he have done if Kaito had been successful in his attempt on her life? How could her father have gone home to Y/N’s mother and acted like he didn’t have a part in her death? Would it roll off like water on a duck’s back, or would he have regrets? 

The worst part was the waves of disappointment that rolled through Y/N’s body. She wrestled with anger and embarrassment for her part in it all. She fought her whole life to gain the approval of the man standing in front of her and with one fell swoop she had knocked down everything she had already built up as if it was nothing, not the blood, sweat and tears she had put into it for so long.

Nothing could ever remedy the choices she had made in her father’s mind. Once he put his mind to something, he wasn’t one to change it. And while Y/N still stood by them for being the right decisions, she couldn’t help but think of the possibilities that could be, had everything been different. The outcomes were endless, but one thing was always certain; her father couldn’t have ever really loved her if he was so easily able to dispose of her.

----

A/N: so where do you think she’s going? lmao, y’all get One Guess. sorry not sorry for the angst. 

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[omg-imagine]

Forget Me Not (Part 12/15)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Reader

Summary: After you wake up from a coma and realize that your memories from the last five years have been erased, Keanu works to bring back what you have lost.

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: Angst, language

A/N: Kinda nervous posting again since it’s been a while, but we’re winding down to the end of this story with only three more parts to go (2 chapters + an epilogue). As always, feedback is appreciated. Thanks for sticking around, and I hope you enjoy!

Part 11

Home.

You are home. It’s supposed to be home.

But it wasn’t. To you, it couldn’t be. 

This place feels too far from home, too foreign. You had no memories of it, no recollection of the safety and security it offers. Not even the faintest remembrance of the laughter, smiles, and tears; the fondness and the sadness these four walls have witnessed over the years. 

You can’t call it home. You don’t know where home is, and you’re not sure you have one anymore. 

Not after leaving him behind.

It’s cold and dark when you first wake, sleep weighing heavily in your eyes. A pair of curtains block out the sun from filtering into the room, leaving you to wonder if you had slept through half the day. With a yawn, you stretch, the bed underneath creaking as your body fully rouses from yet another night of fitful slumber. Almost a month back in New York, and it doesn’t make sense to keep blaming your lack of energy on the time difference.

The ache is still ever-present. The pain caused by the void in your heart remains, sharply throbbing in your chest with its refusal to go away. Two heartbreaks, two betrayals, occurring five years apart, but it feels as though not much time has passed in-between. 

It hurts to ponder about it, that evening when your seemingly perfect little world came crashing down. Hiding behind rose-tinted glasses, you were unknowingly tricked, fully caught up in a well-crafted illusion. His illusion. Love has blinded you to the sad reality, and in the end, it left you a shattered mess, a hollow shell of your former self.

You doubt you’ll ever be whole again.

Forcing yourself out from under the covers, you reach for your phone on the nightstand to check the time before scrolling through your notifications. Nothing was of interest to you, fortunately; you didn’t have the energy to respond to those you suddenly abandoned. Friends who cared about you but realized you were never close to them. Not in the way it used to be.

As you skimmed over the new texts and emails, you then came across his now unsaved number. The moment you stepped on the plane, you deleted his contact from your phone and blocked him. Yet the last messages he sent to you were still there and haven’t been read since, though you already knew what they could entail—

I’m sorry.

It was never my intention to hurt you.

Please give me another chance.

Let me fix this.

Just come back, Y/N. Come back home.

Home. There was that damn word again. You were beginning to loathe it, even more so knowing that whenever you think of home, you wind up thinking of him.

The last time you saw him was the morning after the storm. Booking a one-way ticket back to the east coast, you then spent the early hours packing as many clothes that would fit in a single suitcase. Tears had long since dried up, having none left as you headed down the stairs, ignoring the look he gave you from afar.

He was dressed in the outfit he had on the night prior; his hair disheveled, eyes bloodshot, and it was quite obvious he endured no sleep. Your resolve nearly crumbles as your gazes connect, bodies close enough that he could reach out the slightest bit, and he’d be holding your hand in the palm of his. 

Fighting the urge, you didn’t cave in. You couldn’t allow yourself to fall for it—for him. 

No, never again.

As expected, he followed you out of the house, remaining quiet as he watched the cab driver load your luggage in the trunk. You paid him no attention when he approached the vehicle once you climbed in, wanting nothing more than to escape this nightmare. With nowhere else to go and no one to turn to, you decided it was best to leave California, not that you belonged there anyway.

It played out like a scene from a movie—the taxi pulling out of the driveway slowly as the raindrops started to fall. Hearing him call out your name, his voice cracking with each syllable, made you hesitate for a beat. Perhaps you could forgive him, you had thought in that split-second. Forgive and forget; let what happened in the past stay in the past. 

But even if you did, the pain’s still there, and it was overpowering. This pain resulting from his deception had been too consuming, too unbearable to move on.

You told the driver to hurry as you couldn’t afford to miss your flight.

The atmosphere in the car was fraught with grim silence. As the house sequestered in the hills vanishes in the rearview mirror, you knew you were running away from it all. You couldn’t stand being here in LA, where every turn, every corner, and every street reminds you of a life that wasn’t truly yours. 

As idyllic it once was, you wanted no part of it anymore. Instead, you sought for familiarity, the life you used to have, the one you could only remember. 

What you thought was your real home.

Unable to hold it in any longer, you had broken down in the backseat, never feeling more alone than you did at that moment.

You wish you could forget, but it’s not that easy. It’s never easy. Memories of him linger in your mind, still tragically fresh as they haunt you day in and day out. Closing your eyes, you could see him wearing this smile that used to make your stomach flutter. You came to love his smile the same way you had loved him wholly. 

Now? Seeing it was a stab to the heart—a reminder of how he took advantage of your condition, your vulnerability. Of every lie you were fed. That smile, the one you previously hoped to wake up to for the rest of your life, had been an act, a facade. 

Everything had been a facade.

A sudden knock on the door startles you, and you clicked off the phone screen before announcing to whoever that they could come in. Your mother Nancy enters soon after, her face displaying concern when she realizes you had just woken up. She’s silent as she walks towards the window and then pushes the curtains aside, the sunlight outside immediately washing over the room. 

Briefly, you squint to adjust to the brightness, a confirmation that it was past noon already—another wasted day.

“Hey, darling,” she speaks softly as she moves to sit on the mattress beside you. “How are you doing?”

There’s no point in lying, but as much as you greatly appreciated her caringness, you didn’t want to burden her with your problems. They were yours to deal with and yours alone. 

“Better.” And that, you were. Just a week ago, you finally stopped crying yourself to sleep. “I might even go out tomorrow and look for a job. Can’t keep freeloading under your roof, right?”

You release a half-chuckle, a small attempt to lighten up the mood. It was comforting when your mother cracks a smile in response.

“Oh, hush. You’re always welcome to stay as long as you need to,” she assures, a loving warmth radiating from her tone. 

Lips pressing together, you sense that she has another thing to address. “What’s wrong?”

Nancy pauses to take a breath, shoulders rising and falling. For some reason, you’re on edge, finding yourself bracing for what was to come.

“Have you spoken to Keanu lately?”

Upon hearing his name, you swallowed away the lump in your throat. After telling your parents what had transpired, it stirred up various emotions—mainly anger from your father, sorrow from your mom. Their hearts sank as you recounted the story, tears blurring your eyes that you couldn’t see their faces. It was a good thing, however; you probably wouldn’t have reached the end.

Since then, they’ve refrained from speaking of him and to him. He’s called the house on a few occasions but could never get past the automated answering machine. Pictures of the two of you hanging on the walls were taken down shortly after the revelation, and you were unsure of who had done it. 

Your parents still couldn’t believe he was capable of such a thing. He had played them the same way you were, twisting the truth and omitting facts. Painting himself in a way that made them think allowing you to stay with him was the best decision when just months before he treated you as if you didn’t matter. 

As if he didn’t love you.

“No.” Curt, you had nothing else to say. 

“He’s a persistent one, I’ll tell you that. Left another message last night,” Nancy comments, feeling her stare as you fiddled with the hands in your lap. The next time she speaks, it’s slow and controlled. She’s careful with her words, wary of how you would react to what she has to say. “Hon, the last time you were here, you told me something. Something that I probably should have mentioned the day you woke up in the hospital.”

You tense, eyes flickering up to hers. “What is it?”

She sighs deeply, her smile fleeting and replaced by a taut frown. “I knew you and Keanu were having… problems. Not the full story, but enough that told me you’ve been unhappy for a while.”

“W-Why didn’t you bring this up then?”

“Because the second I saw him in your hospital room, I could see how much he loves you. How scared he was at the thought of nearly losing you—”

“Pfft, sure he was,” you scoff at the statement in disbelief. “What he did—you don’t do that to someone you love. You don’t lie to them, betray them. Hell, if you had given me a heads up earlier, then it would have saved me all this trouble.”

“Y/N—”

“Don’t you get it? He’s an actor. Of course, he’s good at playing pretend. Got us all believing that things were all sunshine and rainbows. He fucked up and fucked up even more by lying. I’ve always had a bad track record in relationships, so I shouldn’t have been too surprised.”

Tension hangs thickly in the air, an apology murmured at the end of a passing second. You didn’t mean to snap at your mother, to let the anger and betrayal consume you that you began taking it out on others although unwillingly. 

But you were just too goddamn hurt. Every day, the memories are suffocating you despite constantly wishing and pleading for them to disappear. That life, the one you had with Keanu, no longer exists, and yet you were still holding onto the frayed remains of it, not ready to move on—to let go. 

You grieve. You grieve and mourn for the recent past, the happiness and love you experienced in the time you were left unaware. Never have you felt so complete, so content, and much at ease. You had turned a blind eye to the signs, to the small inklings of doubt brewing inside because you thought that there was no way you could get something else as close to this.

Perhaps you were both to blame after all.

“I thought he was different,” you whisper, sorrow flowing from your words. “I thought he was the one. The man I’d settle down with, marry, and then maybe someday, be the father of my kids. We’d build an entire life together, a family, a future. The kind of life where I could look back on it fifty years from now when we’re old and gray and not regret a single thing.”

Feeling your mother’s hand come on top of yours with a light squeeze, you fought off the tears forcing their way from your eyes. You swore you would never shed a tear for Keanu ever again, but you are crumbling from within. The weak walls you put up are now tumbling down, leaving you even more vulnerable than before. 

“I want to hate him. I want him to feel my pain and suffer through it, knowing that he’s the reason why. But I can’t. Somehow, I just can’t.”

“It’s because you still love him. No matter how much it hurts, you’re still in love with him,” Nancy adds solemnly, and you nod shakily. “You’re healing, dear. So far, all you’ve done is put on a bandaid, but it doesn’t mean the wound closes up immediately. It’ll burn, it’ll bleed, and it’ll ache, and right now, that’s what you’re feeling; the pain of a fresh open wound.”

“Make the pain stop,” you mumbled incoherently as you lean against your mom’s side, wet cheeks pressed to her shoulder. “It has to stop.”

“And it will,” she promises, listening to your soft and tired cries. “It’ll take time for the wound to heal, but eventually, it will. Until then, life continues, and you would have to as well. You don’t have to go all-in right away, but don’t let this heartbreak hinder you from living, sweetie. You’re strong, and I believe you will feel that same happiness again, in one form or another. But you won’t find it unless you go out and look for it.”

For the first time in what seemed like a while, you felt something other than loss and despair. It creeps into you slowly, half-expecting a cold, crushing weight to fall heavily on your chest rather than the warmth and light it is. But as quickly as it came, the sensation subsides, a wave of loneliness, emptiness filling the vacant space surrounding your heart.

A shuddering breath released, you then reflect upon what your mother said about time and how time heals all wounds. You wonder how much time is needed until you can finally break free from the remnants of the past and breathe again. Could be days, weeks, or even months more, but it’s right there, waiting for you on the horizon. 

You may not have a place to call home, but what you do have is time.

---

Seconds turn into minutes; minutes turn into hours. The sun sets, the moon rises; bright, blues skies bleed into a fiery red before dimming to an inky darkness. The world spins on its axis as people wake, move, then sleep, and the cycle begins all over again.

Two weeks have come and gone, and life pushes onward. You could tell by the scenery outside where the season of fall has taken charge of the Northeast. Days are shorter, with nights stretching out longer as the year fades into winter. Time was flying by at a brisk pace. Very soon, a blanket of snow will cover the ground you walk on, reminding you to take a step back and admire the natural beauty of mid-November.

The crispness of the late afternoon air is refreshing as it fills your lungs, a welcome change from the hazy summer heat. Leaves that were once lively shades of green are now painted in deep hues of amber and burgundy, and they crunch beneath your boots with each leisure step down the earthy path. The nearby lake is as pristine as ever, sparkling freely underneath the rays of the ochre sun as it waits for the impending frost.

Wandering about outdoors for hours now, you were lost in your stream of thoughts. You honestly felt better, not entirely mended, but just enough that you can step out of the house and explore the quaint little town. A picturesque place, it was a perfect settlement for your retired parents where everyone knew everybody; their faces, names, the street they lived on. Boilding down to more personal details such as knowing the pets they owned, which book club they’re a part of, and any recent travels. 

When the townsfolk saw you, you sensed the feeling of familiarity. Those you passed by in the streets waved at you, and though you couldn’t exactly recall your relationship with them, it made you smile. Recently, old friends and family in the area had begun reaching out after hearing you were back. You never gave them the full explanation, only revealing that things in California did not work out, and you figured it was best to leave. 

Was it a permanent decision? Most likely. Life here is simpler, quieter. You enjoyed the peacefulness, favoring the calm atmosphere of this town much over the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles. It gave you space to think, to focus, to breathe. To reacquaint with yourself, rebuild who you are as a person by taking this journey of self-discovery. 

It’s the brand new start you desperately wanted, needed. An opportunity to find your place in this world without the past holding you back. Without the shadow of the woman you once were looming over you. And if your memories don’t ever return, which deep down, you hope they never would, you would be fine with it. 

You were tired of being stuck searching pieces of the past. You had to live.

Trekking up the gravel road leading to your parents’ home, a black car sits on top of the hill, one that you did not recognize. Perplexed, you approached the house with hesitant steps, dragging your feet through the pile of dead and dry leaves. There was a moment of panic when you noticed a man sitting on the front porch steps, hands clasped on his knees as he hung his head low, a curtain of dark hair masking his identity.

But you don’t need to think twice, for you already know who it is.

“Keanu?”

His name slipping out of your mouth feels different now. Gone is the affectionate tone that it was usually spoken in. It held no meaning, void of any warmth or tenderness. Keanu, the name is bitter on your tongue, a poison that could cause you to spiral down yet again, and saying it out loud brought upon a rage that swirls through your veins.

How dare he show up here unannounced?

As you take your breaths, one… two… three... and out, Keanu straightens his posture and meets your stern glare. Slowly, he gets up, the expression on his face hard to read. But aside from that, he looked worse for wear. The bags underneath his eyes were dark and prominent, the beard on his chin was unruly and untamed. He appears gaunt and exhausted, as if he hasn’t slept a wink ever since you walked out of the door and out of his life.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You’re the first to break the thick silence, a testament of your bravery and strength of some sort. Brows furrowing and teeth gritting in anger, it contrasts with Keanu’s lax demeanor as he steps closer. “No, stay back. You have no right to be here right now.”

“Y/N, please...” He speaks calmly, each and every one of his movements measured. “I’m not here to fight—”

“I have nothing to say to you,” you seethed, shaking your head as you stormed past him and towards the door. Tears brew in your cloudy eyes, a sign of how much he still affected you. Seeing him again after all this time only proved that the wound he had inflicted bleeds to this day.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Keanu quickly trails from behind, his voice dripping with utter desperation. “Please, just… give me a chance to talk. All you have to do is listen, and I promise you won’t ever have to see me again.”

The seriousness in his timbre causes you to halt in your tracks. Swallowing dryly, you turn around, sad, tired eyes reaching his guilt-filled ones. Keanu stands before you with a face written in despair, making him barely recognizable. The way he’s staring at you as if he’s hopeless and in pure anguish is unsettling, and you almost pitied him for it. 

“Y/N…” He pleads softly, defeatedly. “Hear me out, please.”

You wrestled between your options, half apathetic, half curious of what Keanu had to say. Unspoken words on the tip of his tongue, he mutely begs for you to relent, and if this is all it takes for him to leave you alone, leave you for good, then so be it.

“Ten minutes,” you muttered, low enough that he barely catches it at first. Crossing your arms against your chest, the gentle autumn wind rustling through the trees pierces the silent air as you observe Keanu staggering forward, a hand rubbing at the nape of his neck. 

“I’m sorry,” he begins, gazing at you with his searching brown eyes. “I-I know saying it a thousand times won’t make a difference, but I really am sorry. What I did before and after the accident was inexcusable and selfish. I hurt you, and I will never forgive myself that. Don’t expect you to do so, either. You probably hate my guts right now, and flying out here might be a mistake, but I needed to talk to you in person. To say goodbye one last time.”

Brushing his hair back, Keanu then pads over to the trunk of the car, and all you can do is wait for him to come back. It doesn’t take long, but he makes two trips to unload two boxes, setting each of them down in the space separating you two. He instantly notices the confusion etched across your features, burying his hands in his coat pocket with an exhale.

“Are those—”

“All the things you left behind,” Keanu finishes feebly. “Thought you would want them back.”

Stunned, a mirthless chuckle escapes your throat. “You didn’t have to do this. Those aren’t my things anyway.”

“But they are—”

“They’re not mine,” you cut him off with a weary gaze. “Keanu, I’ve said this before; I’m not the woman you fell in love with. Not anymore. Look, throughout those months we spent together, I tried to fit into this life everyone told me I had. A life that’s far from what I was used to. God, it feels like a dream being her. So confident, happy, and successful. Waking up from the coma, of course, I would want that. I had just gotten out of a terrible relationship which left me broken and unworthy of anything and anyone. Then you showed me the love I thought I didn’t deserve, and it kept me from realizing that it was all too good to be true.”

Eyes faltering to the ground, your fingers fumbled with the hem of your sweater, ultimately distracting yourself from the tears threatening to fall. “The truth is, I didn’t know you. You were, are, a stranger to me. You had done things behind my back, hid details that would have been a deal-breaker, but you didn’t care. I’ve thought about it a lot lately; would I have stayed if you told me from the very beginning. I wasn’t sure if I was madder at you kissing someone else, knowing how much it would hurt me, or the fact that you lied to fix this—us.”

There is a moment of silence that weighs over everything. The wind stops blowing; the leaves are motionless. Time seems to slow around you and Keanu as he waits for your next words. Words that you are still searching for since you hadn’t prepared to voice those thoughts out loud. They all came rushing, flooding like a broken dam, too overwhelming to keep at bay. 

“Which one is it?” Keanu probes delicately, equally afraid of which answer you’re going to give.

“Neither,” you revealed, surprisingly. “I’m angrier at myself for falling too fast; for being the naive little girl who let herself be fooled, who refused to listen to her instincts even though she knew they were usually right.”

You see Keanu open his mouth to speak, but you weren’t done. “I always believed this accident was a curse. It erased years worth of memories that, at this point, I’ll never get back. But now, I see the good that came out of it. Our fights, our arguments, they were all signs that our relationship was falling apart, but I couldn’t let go of it—of you. I held onto us thinking the bad will just phase out eventually when in reality, I couldn’t bear giving up on you and this life we shared.”

Another pause. “Huh, funny. Looking at it, the same thing happened all over again.”

With that said, you felt relieved, somewhat lighter. Despite previous inclinations, you didn’t shout or yell at Keanu. Nor did you discuss to the fullest extent of the suffering you’ve endured. Strangely, it was nearly therapeutic admitting all of that to him, to yourself. For months, you had been unable to let go and accept the truth, allowing fear and doubt to control your actions. 

But that was then, and this is now. 

And now, it was time for you to be free.

“Guess this is it,” Keanu sighs dejectedly. He didn’t come here to win you back, knowing there’s nothing that he could do or say to repair the damage. Like you, he’s letting go, letting this be the closure he needs, and you need as well. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“Yeah,” you agreed quietly, “Guess this is goodbye.”

Before you could leave his sight to spare Keanu the awkwardness, he holds up a finger, signaling you to wait a second. Swiftly, he goes to retrieve something that’s lying on the front seat, something that you’ve spent countless hours flipping through. He then reluctantly passes it over to you, and you’re unsure what to do with it.

“Your pictures,” he points out, though you were already aware. “I’m not trying to be an asshole or anything by giving this, but this book is yours. Keep it, burn it, do whatever seems right to you. But I want you to know, to remember, that I did love you. I still do, and these photos are proof of it, even if you can’t bring yourself to believe that I’m telling the truth. You deserve love and to be loved, Y/N. More than anything in the universe. I fucked up my chance to be the one to tell you that every day, but it doesn’t mean the next person you fall for will.”

“Ke…” your voice suddenly breaks with emotion, uncertain of what to add after his statement. It’s because you still love him. No matter how much it hurts, you’re still in love with him, your mother’s earlier words echo in your mind, ringing true in your heart. Even after everything, a piece of you still loved Keanu, and saying goodbye to him more painful than you anticipated.

As you stand frozen, Keanu inches nearer until he’s by your feet, the palm of his hand coming to rest on your cheek. He strokes your face with a tender caress before tilting your chin upwards to meet his gaze, brushing his thumb along your lower lip gently. You allow him to have this moment, to hold you and study you for a final time, commit you to memory as this would be the last. 

Eyes fluttering shut, you feel him press a soft kiss on your forehead, the warmth of it immediately spreading throughout your body before he slowly pulls away.

“Take care of yourself, Y/N,” Keanu says, opening the driver’s side door of his rental. You look at each other once more and see the subtle, hopeful smile he shoots your way. “And don’t be afraid to love again.”

You watch as he starts driving away, opting to wait until the car is finally out of view before releasing the breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

In your hands is a keepsake of your memories. A collection of captured moments that you had cherished so dearly. But things are different now; mistakes were made, words were said, people have grown apart. You found no reason to linger in the past when there’s nothing left to salvage. 

Nothing left to do but heal.

The warmth of Keanu’s kiss eventually disappears, the world around you unpausing, continuing as it was before. You stay standing in place, glancing back and forth between the book you clutched on tightly and the boxes laying on the ground. 

Yet in the quietude, the wind still blows. The leaves still fall, and the earth still spins.

Time resumes, bit by bit; passing for life to move forward— 

For you to move on.

Part 13

Tags: @penwieldingdreamer​ @fanficsrusz​ @toomanystoriessolittletime​ @awessomness @meetmeinthematinee​ @ringa-starr​ @ficsnroses​ @iworshipkeanureeves​ @keandrews​ @greenmanalishi​ @feminine-machinegun​ @thehumanistsdiary​ @lilyette​​ @rdjloverxxx @flaminasteroid @danceoftwowolves @ravenpuff02 @wheretheriversrunintothesea​​ @breakthenight​​ @allie1804-fan​​ @partypoison00​​

[dinogoofy]

Kabal × reader

Flowers for broken hearts

It's an angsty one boys

Ok, just for reference, this is gonna be a really weird timeline, and we're gonna pretend that revenent kabal was revived with Jax, but went straight back to the black dragons, ok? Ok.

Like normal, sexual scenes are implied but not explicit.

TW for violence.

----

You had always loved mornings, but honestly it was only because of the man you woke up next to each day. 

The birds were tweeting softly from outside the window, and you tried to stretch in the warm, early morning sun, only to find out that you were stuck. 

Your fiancé's warm body was curled around you loosely, still asleep. You smiled, he definitely deserved the rest, especially after last night. You snuggled into Kabal's bare chest, breathing in the scented remnants of the awful Axe cologne he still used. 

Kabal hummed at the movement, holding onto you a bit tighter and nuzzling into your hair. 

"Good 'morning, sunshine." He groggily spoke, rubbing your back up and down as you cuddled close to him. That early morning voice of his never failed to make your heart flutter.

"Good morning, handsome." Kabal smiled, kissing your head. You sighed, content in the warm bed. The fuzzy, happy feeling in your chest blooming as you pressed your face into his neck, lightly kissing his smooth skin. You could feel the rumble in his chest as he faintly chuckled, somehow pulling you even closer to him.

"Tryin' to get me going this early in the morning huh? Such a naughty girl…" You gasped, fake offended as you slapped his chest.

"Kabal!"

"What? You and I both know you find me irresistible-" You laughed, covering his mouth with your hand and pressing your forehead to his. 

"Oh, shut up! Stop being such a cocky bastard, or I might just stop kissing you all together!" You could feel his smile from underneath your fingers. Before you knew it he had flipped you over on the bed, your back pressed into the cushion as he leaned over you. His loose, long black hair falling around the two of you like a curtain.

"If that's the case, I guess I'll have to start stealing them from you, Dear~" The bubbling laughter in the room was infectious as Kabal pressed kisses to your forehead, nose, cheeks, eyelids, anywhere where he could get really. The fuzzy feeling bloomed once again, and for a moment you were reminded that this was indeed your happy place. You caught his face in your hands with some effort, and pulled him into a soft kiss. 

Kabal eagerly pressed into you, sliding one of his hands up your arm to gently lace with your own hand. What a wonderful way to wake up.

Unfortunately, the soft moment was cut short as His phone started to ring. Kabal broke this kiss for a moment, and heavily sighed. Pressing one last quick kiss to your lips before getting out of bed. You frown at the loss of contact, but didn't refrain from ogling his butt as he stood. 

"My eyes are up here, Babe." Kabal jokes, not even turning back to look at you as he picks up his phone, opening his dresser in the process and grabbing some pants.

"Stryker, whatcha got for me?" It felt like your heart sunk into your stomach upon hearing the name. It was supposed to be Kabal's off-day! The whole reason the two of you had moved to the country just outside of New York City was so Stryker would stop calling kabal into duty so randomly.

You knew how important this job was to Kabal, so you never protested when he did leave. You put up with him during the awful, random merc jobs that he had while working with the black dragon. You couldn't be mad at him for working an extra shift for the station every once in a while.

At least you don't have to worry about that Kano asshole and the black dragon showing up unannounced. You thought. At least there's that.

Kabal let out another heavy sigh as he hung up the phone, running around the room to gather his things in a hurry. He looked worried.

"Is everything alright?" Kabal shook his head as he threw a shirt on. Rushing over to press a kiss to your head.

"Something weird is going on in the city. He mentioned something about Outworld fusing with earthrealm… or something like that. Said I needed to get my ass over there right away." Kabal cupped your face in his hand, running his thumb along your cheekbones in a soothing manner as you frowned.

"Just come back in one piece, ok?" You tried not to let your voice waver as you spoke. Kabal chuckled, leaning down to give you a hug.

"I'll do my best, sweetheart." Your chest tightened as he let go of you to rush out the door.

"I love you." He turned around with a bright smile on his face.

"I love you too." And just like that, he was gone.

It kinda felt like he took your heart with him.

It's been a long time since Kabal walked out on you. It's been rough. The tears, the heartbreak. He hadn't contacted you. No voice-mail, no messages, nothing. You had started to wish that Stryker hadn't even told you that he was alive. But he did. And now all that's left to do is get over him.

That wasn't quite as easy as you thought it would be. 

"Hey kabal, I'm just...calling to check in on you. Call me back soon, alright?"

"It's me again. I know I've been calling your work phone a lot, but I'm really worried."

"Could you please, just- just pick up the phone? Just once? I miss you."

"Our wedding date is- was supposed to be next week. I...I won't be mad if you come back this late… just please, come home."

"It's… *hic* it's me again um… we um… went out tonight. They told me to give it a rest. Heh, but I know this line's still active! Stryker *hic* told me so. He wouldn't lie right?"

"..."

"I'm going to stop calling this phone soon. If you can hear this...I… *sigh* nevermind. This is useless. I'm sorry."

----

After Kabal left, you saved your money and quit your job. Turning the land around your home into a flower farm, you had already lost so much, why not give back to yourself? Your favorite hobby became your favorite job, and soon enough you had made enough money to build a little shop on the property just a little closer to the road. And my oh my, was business booming.

"Hey Mrs.Cameron! How've you been?" Mrs. Lissy Cameron and her wife were once your wedding planners, and then they became your #1 customers when you opened up shop. She smiled at you, and you carefully took the premade bouquet of flowers from her to ring it up on the register. 

"I've been wonderful! Sarah's been asking to come here all week, so I figured we might as well stop by on our way back home." Her wife scoffed, playfully swatting at her.

"Please, we both wanted to drop by. Lissy has been obsessed with your hyacinth bouquets since you did the floral arrangements for Janet's wedding." You giggled sweetly, telling them their total and carefully bagging their flowers. When you looked up to take Lissy's card however, the two of them looked worried.

"Is everything ok?" Sarah sighed at the question, reaching out to take your left hand. Your chest started to squeeze up. 

"You're wearing it again." You solemnly looked down at the ring on your finger. Letting out a curt, sad laugh. You hadn't noticed that you had put it on this morning. You were kinda on autopilot when you woke up after sleeping through your alarm, and had to rush to open up shop. It must've been simply out of habit. It had taken a while to stop wearing it, as it partly carried the hope that he would be back. But he wouldn't be, and you knew that. But every once in a while… 

"I hadn't even realized. Thanks for letting me know." They gave you a pitiful look as you slipped the ring off your finger and set it next to the register. Lissy gave you a soft smile when you finished ringing them up. 

"Hey, Sarah and I were going to get drinks tonight with a few friends. You could tag along if you'd like? I'm sure you'll meet some interesting people." Lissy wiggled her eyebrows at you, and you laughed when Sarah slapped her arm for it. Sarah turned and gave you a soft look.

"You don't have to Honey," She paused. "But it might be good for you to get out of the shop sometime. We barely even see you outside this place." You tried your best to smile at them, but it came out sorta lopsided.

"I'll think about it." Lissy gave your hand a reassuring pat, taking the flowers and waving goodbye as she and Sarah went out the door.

"Take it easy!" You smiled sadly at the words. 

"I'll try." 

----

Today had been the busiest day you've had in a while, but it felt worth it in the end as you closed up shop. The setting sun casting a warm glow through the many windows. Creating a perfect, calm setting to close everything up. You tidied the flowers that were left over from the day, replaced the water in the vases, even swept. 

You had gone out and turned on the sprinklers for the bushes and blooms outside, coming back inside to mop before you had to run back out again to turn it off and finally, finally turn in for the night. 

The water sloshed around as you set the bucket down to start mopping near the counter. When you stood, your eyes caught on the ring again. 

That stupid, beautiful, ring that never failed to put a damper on you mood. You slowly staggered toward it, gently picking it up in your hands to examine it.

It had always been the most beautiful piece of jewelry you owned, it was a shame that it wasn't used for some other couple. Preferably one that actually worked out in the end. As you traced the outline of it you started to wonder where Kabal was right now. Was he ok? Was he married so soon? Did he have kids? Or maybe he was just dead. You didn't know which one hurt worse.

You sighed. You couldn't keep doing this. You couldn't keep finding it, and thinking about him, and bringing the pain all back to the surface again. You just couldn't. You set the ring back down. Maybe you should take Lissy's offer up. Drink your woes away.

A noise caught your attention, kicking you out of your thoughts. A clay pot rolled across the floor as you looked up.

"Hello?" You called out. No response. You slowly grabbed the bat you kept underneath your counter, and started to creep over to the other end of the shop, walking through the giant, open doorway that separated the sunroom, where the flowers are kept, from the shop.

There didn't appear to be anyone there when you got over that way, and you sighed, relaxing for a second. You leaned down to pick up the pot.

"Gotcha!" Suddenly a pair of arms forcibly wrapped around you. You screamed, and one of the arms suddenly moved from your waist and clutched your throat.

"Keep it down, or I'll fucking kill you." Still panicked, you managed to wrench an arm out of the man's grip and sharply elbow him in the side. He groaned in pain, and the split second he loosened his grip was enough for you to break from his hold and slam the pot down in his head.

He yelped in pain this time. Holding his now bleeding head. You held the bat in both hands now, ready to swing again. 

"Get out of my shop! NOW!" You barked at him. He chuckled in a creepy, unhinged way. Smiling up at you with disgusting yellow teeth and spitting on the floor.

"I'll be damned if any of Kano's bitches tell me what to do!" You couldn't even process the words before he lunged at you again, you tried to dodge swiftly. Unfortunately, he was still able to grab one end of the bat. He used it to yank you closer and knock you to the ground. You desperately tried to push him off as he wrapped his cold, dirty hands around your throat, pushing all of his body weight there. 

You tried to kick at him, but he wouldn't budge. Your nails clawed deep into the skin of his wrist, and even lashing out at his face had no effect. Your eyes started to get teary as you struggled to breath. 

All you could feel was a rush of wind, and the man had been knocked off of you. He was launched into one of your tables of flowers, breaking it in half as he landed. You coughed, gasping for air. Thankful that you could breathe again. You felt so sore, but you still sat up, baffled by the events. 

A new man was standing in between you and the attacker. He was clothed head to toe in frightening, thick gear, fists clenched. You wouldn't have known who it was. Especially not with the mask on his face, but when your eyes settled on the hook swords on his back… 

It couldn't be… 

A scream interrupted your thoughts. The new man holding your attacker up by his neck. He was screaming for forgiveness, for a chance to run. You stood, and the masked man stiffened, dropping the other into the mess once again.

"You've got two minutes to run." The attacker didn't even spare a glance at you before trying to bolt out the front door, slamming into it hard before frantically popping the lock open.

The masked man hadn't looked at you, but you, however, couldn't take your eyes off of him. He started to walk away when you called out for him.

"Kabal?" Your voice broke. He didn't turn back. He kept walking. Fury started to build up in your chest. You stormed over to him, grabbing him by the sheaths on his back. 

"Where do you think you're going?! You come back for two fucking seconds and plan to leave just like that? Without an explanation? Fuck you!" Tears were running down your face now. He stops in his tracks, but doesn't turn around. He calls your name. 

"That guy's gotta grudge against the black dragons-understandably. 'Managed to hack into some old files. He's been hunting down family and friends and killing them on the spot. Had a few 'mercs quit on us Kano gave me the order to kill him." He pauses. "That's the only reason I came back." You didn't flinch at the info that he was back with the dragons, but It felt like your heart shattered a second time when he spoke the last few words. This fucking asshole. you refused to back down. 

"You know that's not the explanation I'm asking for." He didn't respond. But he didn't move either. You stepped in front of him. Looking straight into the eyes of his mask. Tears were still streaming down your face, your hands were shaking, you were so fucking mad, and sad, and destroyed. You almost wished he had been dead. 

"Kabal. Where. The. Fuck. have you been." He sighed, and you couldn't tell if he was making eye contact- or even trying to, through his mask.

"Don't worry about it." You were clenching your hands so hard your nails started to bite into the skin of your palm.

"I swear to God, Kabal. You fucking left me without so much as a note. You're going to tell me why!" 

"I don't have to tell you anything." He pushed past you forcefully, making his way to the door. For a moment you just stood there in shock. What was wrong with him?!

"Excuse me?!" He sighed, walking over to your counter.

"I'm not doing this with you today." You were bubbling with rage, not able to even swallow your sobs. Kabal had stopped at the register, frozen for a moment, and you took that chance to reach out and grab him by the shoulder, forcibly turning him around.

"In case you fucking forgot, our wedding was supposed to be two months after you disappeared on me. Do you know how much that Fucking hurt?! Do you have any idea how much it hurts now, you piece of shit! God just- at least just TELL me why!" Kabal stiffened, and you knew he was starting to become angry. Or maybe he was sad. You couldn't tell. No one spoke for a long moment as you tried to wait for him to respond. He didn't. 

Your watery, angry eyes were glaring at him, and he watched as you walked behind the counter. In a moment of uncontrollable anger, you snatched the ring up and forced it into his hands. His shoulders slumped immediately when he realized what it was.

"Get the fuck out of my shop." Your hands were shaking, your face was still flushed, eyes red from the tears, but you didn't look away from him. He started to call your name, but you interrupted him.

"GET OUT!" Your voice had gone hoarse. Kabal didn't budge. Slowly, very slowly, he reached up to his mask. As he took it off. Your guarded expression immediately faltered.

His face was horribly scarred. You sucked in a breath from pure horror for a second. Burn scars all over his face. You looked at his hands, his neck. He was scarred everywhere. His face twisted in disgust as he analyzed your face.

"You really wanted to know that bad, huh? I left you because I already knew what you would think, what you would say if I came home to you like this." You were almost in shock, tears running down once again as you gently reached over the counter to touch Kabal's face. He flinched for a moment, but let you touch him. 

"What happened?" Your voice shook, horror evident on your face. His face fell for a moment as you touched him, so terribly gently. He hard look in his eye softened.

"What does it matter? I'm horrific." You let out a sad, snarky laugh. Cupping his face with both your hands, caressing his cheekbones just as gently as he did yours the morning he left.

"Don't you remember the night you proposed?" He sucked in a breath, and your hands gently pushed his short hair out of his face before you reeled yourself in. You wouldn't touch him like this. It didn't matter why he left you, he still did it. But even then, your heart ached for him. Damn, you needed to see a therapist.

"I had quit the black dragon. I was asking what you thought of me joining the NYPD." 

"And?" Your voice broke as you struggled to maintain a strict tone.

"...and?" You nodded tearfully, sniffling from all the crying. Kabal kept going. "We talked about my tendency to join violent fields. I… I had asked you if you'd still love me if I came home with bruises every night, just like I had used to." His face started to shift. You already knew he remembered what you were about to say. That flicker of anger started up in your chest as you spoke bitter words.

"I told you that I'd love you no matter how many scars, or bullet holes, or bruises you came home with, as long as you were coming home." Kabal's realization left a devastated look on his face, and no matter how bitter you felt, you couldn't help but reach for his hand. He held your hand back limply.

"...I kinda fucked that one up. Didn't I?" You laughed, a pitiful, angry noise.

"You did." You stopped for a moment. "You did." You felt numb as the words fell into a whisper.

"-But no matter how fucking angry I am, I don't think that statement ever changed, Kabal." He ran his thumbs over your knuckles, avoiding eye contact with you by looking down at them.

"... You'd really still love me after all this? After all the scars, all the time…" You pressed your lips into a line, sighing before squeezing his hand. His eyes started to water as your own began to dry.

"I..." It was difficult to say this. It really was. But you wanted him back. You really did. You wanted to give him that second chance. You wanted those sleepy mornings and the pillow talk and the awful food he cooks. You missed him so fucking much.

"It's gonna take a while, and certainly some couple's therapy, but Kabal…" You held his cheek again, lifting his head to look at you. You looked into his eyes and bit back what you were originally going to say. Letting out a pitiful laugh at yourself before doing your best to wipe that look from his face. You didn't owe him anything, but you saw an opportunity and took it.

"... I wouldn't mind seeing that ass in the morning again." Kabal was taken off guard for a moment, and you felt triumphant. He erupted in wonderful, happy laughter. Pulling you close from across the counter and kissing your forehead.

"How could I say no to that?"

.

.

.

"Kabal, weren't you supposed to take care of that one guy?" 

"Shit."

[seungmoroll]

Heather | Han Jisung

Word count: 5.2k

Genre: slight angst, fluff, realization of feelings

A/N: this is the second part to Minho’s Heather, so if you haven’t already, you can read it here, though it’s not really necessary to read it. you can also read the other member’s here. 

F/n = friend’s name

Jisungs POV

    “No.”

    “But-“

    “No.”

    “What happened to providing the best service to your customers?”

    “Jisung,” they lock eyes with me before they continue their sentence, “I am not going to give you a large cup filled with pearls.”

    “But I’m willing to pay for it.” I give them my best puppy dog eyes in hope that they’ll give up their resolve. I had a plan, and I refuse to let Y/n get in the way of it.

    “Yeah, but I’m not willing to clean up the mess you’re going to make.” How did they know what I was going to do with the pearls?

    “I-“

    “I know exactly what you’re going to do with those tapioca pearls, and as much as I would love to see Changbin suffer, I refuse to clean up the boba you plan on spitting out at him.” Dang, they were spot on with my plan.

    “Fine.” I reluctantly say. A look of content settles on their face, “Good.”

    “I’ll just wait until Minho comes out.” A frown quickly replaces the look of content on their face. “No you will not.”

    “Did I hear my name?” Minho pops out from the back room, making me quickly change my plan of attack. I will get the boba.

    “Nope, no you didn’t. You can head back to the back room.” Y/n quickly says, trying to get Minho to leave.

“There’s my favorite CuTea worker,” I say in attempt to butter Minho up. I can feel the glare Y/n is giving me, but I ignore it and continue at my attempt to get my cup of boba, “Minho, you’ll get me a cup of pearls, right?”

    He gives me a smirk, “Oh, we spitting them at Changbin?” This is why he was my favorite worker…right after Y/n.

    “No, stop it right now. You do know that if you give him the pearls, we’re,” they motion their hand between the two of them, “the ones that are going to have to clean it up.”

    Minho takes a moment to think before he tells me, “Yeah, sorry bud, I’d totally give you some, but I got places to be after work.” By places, he meant wherever Doyeon was, we all knew. Deciding to change the topic for the sake of Y/n, “Right. Y/n,” focusing my attention on them, “you doing anything after work tonight?”

    Leaning against the counter, they say, “Uh yeah, going home to lay in the comfort of my bed.” Great. This meant good for me.

    “Well not anymore.”

    They quirk their eyebrow at me in confusion, “Excuse me?”

    “You didn’t let me finish. Let’s go out.” This time it’s Minho who quirks his eyebrow at me, which I choose to ignore as I focus on Y/n. There’s a weird expression on their face, and then that’s when I realize that what I said sounded a bit weird.

    “Like let’s hang out. You and me…as friends. Not like going out out.” I’m just making it worse and more awkward, aren’t I?

    “I’d like to Sung, but I’m tired, and I need my sleep.” Oh, you have no idea how much I love it when you call me that name, Y/n.

    “Then how about another time this week?”

    “Hmmm, what about Wednesday?” That was two days from now.

    “Wednesday? I can do that. You working that day?”

    “Yeah, but I got an earlier shift, I’ll be done by 5.” Oh? This is working awfully well for me. I’m internally jumping up and down and pumping my fists, but externally I try to play it off nonchalantly.

    “Great, it’s a date.” Keyword try. “Not like a date date, but you know.” Y/n starts to giggle at my way of trying to escape the awkwardness, and I swear that that was the sound you hear when the gates of heaven open. However, it sadly ends when the door opens, alerting the shop of a new customer. Getting out of the way for the customer, I stand off to the side of the counter, where Minho is suspiciously looking at me.

    “Is there a problem? Is there something on my face?” I quickly grab my phone from my pocket to check myself through the reflection. Fortunately, there’s nothing, but it would’ve been so embarrassing if there was while I was talking to Y/n. Instead of responding, Minho just chuckles and shakes his head.

    Before I can say anything to him, the door opens again, and I see that it’s F/n. They approach the three of us at the counter, “Hey guys.”

    “Hey F/n.” Y/n’s angelic voice says. Minho gives them a curt nod.

    “What can I get for you today?” Y/n asks F/n.

    “Let’s see, I’ll have a strawberry banana smoothie with pearls.” Speaking of pearls, I open my mouth to say something to F/n, but Y/n stops me before I can get a single word out. “Don’t even think about it.”

    In a second attempt to ask F/n, they cut me off, “I don’t want to know, nor do I want to participate in it.” Their response makes me visibly shrink.

    After paying for their drink, F/n says to me, “We should sit down and get to work.” F/n and I were currently taking geology together, and we were paired together to work on a group project. We’ve been working on it for the past three weeks, and I was the one that had suggested we work on it at CuTea. Though, F/n wanted to work on the project at the library, but I like to believe that my cute charms made them change their mind.

    Parting from Y/n and Minho, we go and sit down at a table, with me making sure that I have a good view of Y/n. It’s not like I creepily watch them or anything, but I enjoy those small moments when we meet each other’s eyes.  However, I’m sure those moments mean nothing to Y/n. When Y/n approaches our table to serve F/n drink, I focus my attention on them as the smile brightly at me and walk away, back to behind the counter with Minho.

    “So we only have these last few things to do before we can submit the project, and you’re not even listening to me.” A hand comes into view, bringing me back to focus on F/n. I can tell by their face that they’re not happy with me.

    In attempt to make them happy, I tell them, “I was totally listening to you.”

    They roll their eyes at me, “Sure, you were.” Playfully, I grab the straw wrapper that was on the table and ball it up, throwing it F/n for not believing me. They manage to dodge it and playfully glare at me.

    “You like them, don’t you?” Confused, I tilt my head to the side in attempt to try to figure out what they mean.

    Sighing, “Y/n. You like them, it’s obvious.” My eyes widen in shock at their statement. I’m not that obvious, am I? Maybe I should be surprised that F/n. They picked up on the smallest things, like the first week of us working together, they pointed out that I like to stuff my cheeks while I eat.

    Leaning closer towards them, in case Minho, or worse, Y/n could hear us, “Is it?”

    “You don’t treat me the same way you do them, so yeah, it’s quite obvious.” Of course I didn’t treat them the same.

    “That’s because you’re you.” I could tell by the look on their face that my answer did not satisfy them. “I mean-“

    “Don’t finish that sentence.” I slowly shut my mouth to prevent anymore words from spewing out of my mouth. I really need to work on thinking before speaking, it’s going to be a big problem for me one day.

    “You plan on telling them?” I choke on my spit after hearing their question. After I manage to not die 7 feet away from Y/n, I look at F/n in bewilderment. Of course I thought about telling Y/n, but I shut down the idea every time. There were many obstacles in the way, and to be quite frank, I don’t think I can go around them.

    “I don’t have a chance.” They cock their eyebrow at me encouraging me to continue.

    “They like Minho. Liked Minho. I don’t know. Either way if they liked Minho then I definitely don’t have a chance.” I could definitely say that Minho was what everyone wanted in a man. He was handsome, smart, funny; he was even a good cat dad, which is what I found out from him after he spent half an hour showing me pictures of his cats. He was basically the whole package.

    “Han Jisung. Don’t you dare put yourself down like that. You’re an amazing, sweet, funny guy, anyone that doesn’t like you has a problem.” I knew F/n was just saying that to make me feel better, but it was still nice to hear. However, I can’t help but squint my eyes at them in suspicion, “I think that was the nicest thing you’ve said to me, are you okay? Are you sick?” Reaching out, I place my hand on their forehead to check their temperature. Weird. They’re pretty warm. I can see them looking up at my hand in bewilderment, then all of a sudden, I feel a small tinge of pain in my arm. Clutching said arm, I dramatic express my pain, “Ow, what was that for?”

    Instead of the devilish look I was expecting, there was what I think to be a hint of embarrassment on their face. I don’t know, but their face was quickly reddening.

    “Hey, but seriously are you okay, you’re pretty warm and your face is turning red.” They quickly grab their face to hide it, “I’m fine, it’s just hot in here.” I checked the thermostat that’s located on the wall and see that it’s only at 70 degrees, which wasn’t hot at all, but decide against saying anything. Alternatively, I push their drink towards them, “Here take a sip of your drink.” Quickly they do as I say, and once they’ve taken a long sip, they say, “Let’s get started on this project.”

    We spend about an hour and a half working on the project, and I can proudly say that I actually focused on my work and not Y/n. Though I was very much tempted when I heard her laugh, probably from what Minho said. Eventually we call it a day, with only a few small things that we have to go over remaining. “So when’s the next time we should meet? It’ll be the last time we have to work on this stupid project.”

    “How about Wednesday? I was already planning on coming here, so we can just meet up here and finish everything up.”

    A snicker escapes from their mouth, “You come here so often, aren’t you worried that it might seem odd?” I did think about that once, but I’ve already came up with an excuse in case anyone asked. “Don’t worry, if anyone asks, I just really like the drinks.”

    I’m 100% sure that I hear the word obvious come out from their mouth. I can’t get a word in because Changbin comes barging in the door, “Jisung c’mon, get your butt moving.” Looking at Changbin then at Y/n, who’s by the counter with a knowing look on their face.

    “You sure I can’t get that cup?” I ask Y/n.

    Giggling while shaking their head, she says to Changbin, “It’s your lucky day, I saved you.” He cocks his head, unsure of what’s happening. As I come up to him, I tell him that it’s nothing.

    The following day was possibly one of the worse days I’ve experienced. I had slept through my alarm causing me to miss two of my classes and then when I went to get lunch with Chan, I spilt my soup all over me. Which is why I decided to stop by CuTea, I needed to see Y/n to make my day better.

    I barge into the door expecting to see the beautiful face that belongs to Y/n, but instead I am met with the sight of Minho at the counter. Confused, I look at the time on my watch and see that Y/n’s shift should have started already.

    “They’re not here.” Minho says to me, continuing, “They took the day off.” I instinctively pout because I won’t be seeing Y/n today, meaning that I had to wait another day to see their angelic face. Instead of turning back around and leaving, I order a drink and as I wait for Minho to make it, he starts a conversation with me.

    “You know that I know right?” Tilting my head, confused as ever, I watch as he slightly shakes his head at me. I had no idea what he was referring to.

    “I know you like Y/n.” My eyes widen at his statement. Was I really that obvious? He was the second person to tell me that this week. Oh no, if Minho knows, then that means Y/n most likely knows too. Seeing the panic on my face, Minho reassures me, “Don’t worry, Y/n is oblivious. They don’t know.” I let out a sigh of relief. “Or maybe they do, and they choose to ignore it.” I can’t tell whether he’s joking or not, but either way, I don’t appreciate it.

    “Don’t worry, I’m just messing with you.” Minho hands me my drink, and I eye him suspiciously as a take a sip of it. I’m sure he wants to laugh at the look I give him, but he goes on to say, “Why don’t we sit down and talk.” I hesitantly agree, but that’s because I’m slightly scared of him.

    Sitting down at a table, I refuse to make eye contact with Minho. He keeps on giving me this look and I don’t know what it means, nor do I like it.

    “There’s something else that I know.” Now looking at him, I can tell that what he wants to talk about it serious. “I know that Y/n likes me.” Oh. That’s not what I was expecting. So he knew? I wonder if Y/n knows that he knows. Maybe they didn’t want to tell me because they felt embarrassed.

    Feigning innocence, I ask him, “Does she now?” He could be trying to play with me, and I wasn’t going to fall for it.

    “Quit that, I know you know.” Well he’s no fun.

    Quickly stopping my act, I ask him, “How’d you find out?”

    “I’ve known for a while now. It was kind of obvious.” He wasn’t wrong there. Even I could tell before I started talking to Y/n. Hm, that’s something that we had in common, being obvious. Wait, now is not the time to focus on our similarities.

    “Why didn’t you do anything about it?” I wasn’t mad or anything, well maybe just a little bit, but that was because he knew all along and never said anything to Y/n.

    “I didn’t want to hurt them.” Is the excuse he gives me.

    “It might be too late for that,” I sharply say.

    He awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, “Yeah…I know. Look, I didn’t want to reject them and break their heart. I really like them as a friend and I just didn’t want to ruin that. Plus, I really like Doyeon.” That last part wasn’t necessary to add, but I don’t say anything about it. Instead I ask, “Why are you telling me all of this hyung?” Minho and I weren’t that close. Outside of Y/n and CuTea, we never talk to each other, so why would he tell me this?

    “Like I said earlier, I know you like Y/n.” I had no idea where he was going with this conversation. “I think you should tell them.”

    “No.” Why was everyone telling me to confess? Is it try to embarrass and ruin Jisung’s life week or something?

    “And why not?”

    “Because…” I look away from him as he sits there and waits for my answer. “Because?” I can’t believe I was really about to tell him this. I mumble out my answer, not wanting him to understand a single word I said. “Jisung.” I didn’t appreciate the tone he said my name in, but I also knew that I was being a bit childish.

    “I said, because they don’t like me, and I don’t want to get rejected.” You can’t blame me for being scared of being rejected, I’m human after all.

    “And what makes you think that will happen?”

    “Did you just forget about our conversation earlier? They like you, not me, so of course I’m going to get rejected.” How many times do I have to say that Y/n like Minho? It’s starting to get annoying, especially since I have to say it to Minho himself.

    “Who’s to say they don’t like you too?” What kind of question was that? There was no way that Y/n could like me.

    “Did you like snort all the sugar back there or something? Y/n doesn’t like me, at least not in the way I want them to.”

    “You won’t know until you do something.” That’s it, he was definitely crazy, either that he wanted me to see me suffer.

    Instead of responding, I get up from my chair, “I should get going.”

    “Leaving so soon?” This conversation was starting to get repetitive for me and I didn’t like it. I didn’t come here to make my day worse. I don’t respond to him once again, so he asks me, “Got things to do?”

    In attempt to leave me alone, I say, “Yea, something like that.”

    “Like confess to Y/n?” I don’t have to look at him to know that he’s smirking. I’m sure that if I were to turn around and face him, that my eyes would literally shoot daggers at him.

    “Not going to happen.” I make my exit from the boba shop, and as make my way home, I can’t help but think about the conversation I had with Minho.

    Today’s the day. The day I get to hang out with Y/n outside of CuTea. Yesterday might’ve been the worse day ever, but there was no way I was going to let anything ruin today. F/n and I were meeting up at 4 to finish up our project, and then I’ll be heading out with Y/n. We agreed to go to a restaurant to get dinner and then to the park just to talk. I’m bringing my skateboard because one time they mentioned how they wanted to learn how to ride one, so I thought this might be a chance to do so.

    When arrive at CuTea later on that day, another worker is working the counter, I think their name is Sana. I’m assuming Y/n is in the back room. Once Sana has taken my order, I choose the same table from Monday to sit at, waiting for F/n to arrive.

Once they arrive, I motion for them to come sit down and slide a drink to their side of the table, “Here, I ordered your drink for you already.”

    “Oh. Um, thanks.” Pulling out their laptop from their bag, we get started on the finishing touches. I didn’t bring me laptop since I was going out, so we had to share F/n’s laptop. After we finished what needed to be done, we reviewed everything to make sure that everything was there, but I was struggling to see the screen, so I grabbed, F/n’s chair and pulled it closer to me. I could tell that they were flustered from my action when they asked what I was doing.

    “I can’t see the screen.”

    “Oh. Um, sorry. Is it better now?” Nodding my head yes, we continue to review the final project. Though something feels off about F/n, it’s like they were emitting anxiousness.

    “Hey are you okay?” They’re surprised by my question, but I can tell that there are other emotions they’re feeling.

    “Jisung,” pause, “I like you.” Uh, did I just hear that right?

    Turning to face my whole body towards them, I ask, “What are you going off about?” I wish that I didn’t turn because then I would’ve missed the way the visibly inflated.

    “You can’t be that dense, Jisung.” Honestly, I didn’t know what to say to them.

    “I’m sorry, but-“ they cut me off, something that everyone seems to be doing lately.

    “Don’t. Don’t’ apologize. I know, you like Y/n. I get it. I just wanted to let you know.” They begin to pack up their stuff as a way to escape my stare.

    “When?”

    I can tell that they’re taken back from my question, “When what?”

    “When did you start liking me?” There were no signs of F/n liking me, but then again not everyone was obvious like me, but still I should have been able to pick up on something.

    “Around the second week of us working on the project.” It’s been over two months, and I didn’t even realize it. Well this is awkward.

    “Well now that the project is done, we can stop hanging out with each other.” I watch as they get up from their seat and try make their way to the door. Getting up, I follow them, stopping them before they could leave.

    “Hey, wait up. What do you mean stop hanging out?”

    “Jisung, outside of this project, we would have never talked. We belong to two different circles.” It’s true. F/n’s group was more academic than Changbin, Chan, and I combined, but it’s not like you can’t hang out with those not in your circle.

    “Don’t say that.”

    “It’s true and you know it. Even if you didn’t like Y/n, I would have never had a chance with you. You and I both know that.” I could tell that F/n was starting to get frustrated with me, but I could let them leave without resolving whatever this was.

    “Why do you have to say it like that? Why are you making these assumptions?”

    “Because it’s true Jisung. I’m not your type and it’s clear to see with Y/n.”

    “Just because I don’t reciprocate your feelings doesn’t mean we have to stop being friends.” I liked hanging out with F/n, I didn’t want to stop talking after the project was over.

    “Yes it does. I can’t stand sitting right beside you and you having your eyes glued on Y/n, and with that being said, I’ll see you in class.” They barge out the door as I stand there unsure of how to take in the situation. I look around and I see that no one else in the shop was paying attention to us, or at least they stopped before I could notice. I sigh in defeat, but a voice brings me out of my mood.

    “Hey, did F/n leave already?” I slowly turn around to face Y/n, quickly changing the expression on my face and giving her a bright smile. I guess it was already 5.

    “Yeah, they had some other things to get to.” I didn’t actually know if they did, but I’d rather not tell Y/n what just went down, “You ready to head out?”

    The restaurant I decided to take Y/n out to was not even a restaurant. It was actually a food truck. I thought Y/n would’ve liked it better than any other place, and I was right because they love the Korean tacos they had. Since it was a food truck there were no actual chairs, so we sat on the sidewalk, talking and grubbing. If I were to be honest, I loved every moment of it. It was nice to talk about something that wasn’t boba related. I got to know Y/n more and vice versa. They also pointed out that I liked to stuff my cheeks with food and called me a chipmunk, and I couldn’t help but blush when the casually wiped a piece of food that was on my face. I would’ve been embarrassed, but I was too focus on the fact that their thumb was that close to my lips and that their hand felt so warm on my hand.

    Once we were both done with our food, I offered to throw away the trash, and when I walked back to Y/n, I saw that they were scrolling through Instagram and saw the photo that was displayed on their phone. It was a picture of Minho and Doyeon. Making sure that they knew that I was approaching, I saw that they had quickly turned off their phone. When I reached them, I said, “To the park?”

    Luckily the park was only 2 minutes away from where the food truck was. We had been walking in silence, until I saw a set of swings. Pointing at the swings, I ask, “Should we sit there?” Nodding their head, we make our way to the swings.

    Once seated, the silence comes back.

    “So…”

    “Don’t bring it up Jisung.” So they know that I saw their phone. However, I try to act clueless, “Bring what up?”

    “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

    “So I’m going to take that as a no then.”

    “No?”

    “No, you’re not over Minho.” Great. I really had to ruin the mood for the night by bringing this up, but I had to know the answer.

    “Jisung-“ This time it’s my turn to cut off their sentence.

    “No, it’s fine Y/n. I get it, you need time and Minho hyung is a cool guy, so of course you’re not over him yet, but I hope you know that there are other good guys out there. You shouldn’t wait for one specific fish when you could get others.”

    “Jisung, let me talk.”

    Something inside me had sparked, and for some reason I couldn’t stop my mouth from moving faster than my brain. “No Y/n, let me get this off my chest. I like you Y/n. Crazy, right? We’ve only been friends for like three months, but I’ve fallen completely head over heels for you. You know, the first time I went into CuTea with Changbin and Chan and saw you behind the counter with your cute little cap and apron, the first thought that came to my mind was ‘Wow, they’re beautiful.’ And ever since that day, I would come into CuTea every time the others went because I didn’t want to miss the chance to see you. Yes, the other two knew about my little ‘crush’ on you and tried to encourage me to say something to you that wasn’t my drink order, but I didn’t have the guts to do so because I knew you were out of my league. And then one night I came into the shop by myself after having a stressful week and I just wanted to hear your voice, even if it was for a minute, but I saw you in tears, and it broke me to see you like that. This might sound weird, but I’m thankful I saw you crying that night or else I wouldn’t have been able to talk to you. And talking to you makes my day, heck I was having the worse day yesterday, and decided to go to CuTea to see you, only to see Minho and then have that stupid conversation with him that has now landed me here.” After that long rant, I take a deep breath. I refuse to look at Y/n instead, I look up at the sky and focus my attention on the moon.

    “Are you done now?” After I nod my head they continue, “I know that you like me Jisung.” What. “I’ve known for the past two months.” Again, what. “You’re quite obvious.” At this point, I’ve twisted the swing so that I could face my whole body towards Y/n, and when I do, I see that they’ve already done the same and that they’re looking at me with those beautiful eyes.

    “I-“

    “Stop, I’m not done. I don’t like Minho anymore. I stopped liking him a month after him and Doyeon got together.” This was news was brand new to me. Y/n hasn’t really talked about her feelings for Minho as of lately, so I wasn’t sure how she felt, but I guess I know now. “I also like someone else now.” Oh. I’m pretty sure that cracking noise I just heard was my heart.

    “Oh, I see. Do I know them?” Why? Why do I like to put myself in pain?

    “Yeah, you know them really well.” Great, it was someone that I knew. Wait.

    “It’s not Changbin is it?” If it was Changbin, I think I would just cry and laugh at the same time.

    “Ew, yuck no, it’s not Changbin.” Good, Y/n is out of his league anyways.

    “Chan hyung?” Chan hyung made sense, he too was what every person wanted. I don’t think I could get mad at Y/n for liking him.

    Shaking their head no, they say, “It’s not him either.” If it wasn’t Chan or Changbin, then I wasn’t sure who Y/n could be talking about.

    “The person that I like is funny, outrageous, sincere, confident,” I couldn’t think of anyone that matched the description, “they also stuff their mouth with food like a chipmunk.” Oh, wait. It takes me a moment to process their words. Are they-are they talking about me?

    “Yes dummy I’m talking about you.” I think I need a moment. Y/n just said she liked me. Wait, “I need you to say it.” Y/n gives me a confused look. “I need you to say that you like me.” If they said it, then I can confirm that I’m not making this whole thing up.

    “Han Jisung, I like you.”

    “You like like me?”

    They roll their eyes at me, but still respond, “Yes Jisung, I like like you.”

    “Oh. That’s cool.” One second I’m sitting on the swing, and the next I’m on the ground. Y/n just pushed me. “Hey what was that for?”

    “What kind of response is that? ‘Oh. That’s cool.’ Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, happier?” Ah, I see where I went wrong. Getting up and dusting off the dirt, I stand in front of Y/n with my arms wide open. Hesitantly, they get up from the swing and wrap their arms around me. Giddily, I encase them in my arms and lift them up. I instantly fall in love with the squeal they let out.

    “Han Jisung put me down!”

    “No. It was a trap, and now that you’re in my arms, I’m never letting you go.” I give them a tight squeeze, causing for another squeal to escape from them.

    “But I thought you were going to teach me how to use a skateboard.” That’s right, I was. Gently putting them down, we make eye contact and I can’t help but look shyly away. They giggle because of my timidness, but I see them shiver due to a small gust of wind. Quickly I take off the hoodie I’m wearing and shove it towards them.

    “Here, take this.” They look at me unsure before taking it from me.

    “But what about you?”

    “Don’t worry about me, I got something else to keep me warm.” I wrap my arm around their shoulder, pulling them closer towards me.

    “I like shy Jisung more than I do bold Jisung.”

    “Well lucky for you, you can have both.”

    Yeah, today was definitely a better day than yesterday.

A/N: ah, sorry that it took so long for this to come out! 🥺the semester is coming closer to the end so it’s beginning to get hectic, but I've finally managed to get this out. I decided to do something different this time and wrote in Jisung’s POV. what did you guys think of it? also this came out a longer than I expected, but I really like how this turned out. like always, I appreciate any comments or feedback, so feel free to leave a message.

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Two: Where the Heart Is

a/n: Thank you so much for all of the love you have shown to part one! I’m so glad to see that you’re enjoying YBMH so far, the story is just getting started. I hope you’ll stick around for the full thing, so without further ado, here’s chapter two! As always, my inbox is open so feel free to come chat with me when you have finished this part :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai'i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: swearing, mentions of drug use

Word Count: 5.1k

read part one here

The phone screen flickers to life at the touch of Harry’s finger, flashing the exact same time that it had the last time he checked, though it feels like hours have passed since then. He sighs at the disappointing revelation and turns his phone over so that the screen meets the aged wood of the piano where it rests. In all honesty, Harry has no idea why he agreed to the interview in the first place. He had skillfully dodged the hundreds of requests for an exclusive tell-all following the untimely split of One Direction and successfully avoided the prying eyes of the general public for several months. So why had he indulged the first request from a girl he hardly knew without so much as a blink? The answer seemed a frustrating mystery to him, but to anyone else, the fluttering in his stomach when he caught a glimpse of her yellow Ford Bronco pulling up to the studio and the way he instinctively raked a hand through his hair gave the answer away.

“I know I’m late, I’m sorry!” Alani apologizes, emerging from the car with a notebook nestled under her arm and a smoothie in each hand. She closes the door with her hip before making a beeline to the studio entrance where Harry stands, his right shoulder leaning against the doorframe with the same stoic expression Alani recognizes as his signature look.

“I had to get my sister to cover for me at the café and then I got lost because Google sent me to a Napua restaurant instead of the recording studio,” she rambles in an attempted continuation of her apology. “But anyway, this is for you. A peace offering and a thank you for doing this.”

Harry gingerly takes the green smoothie from her outstretched hand and offers a curt nod in response before ushering her inside.Alani pushes her sunglasses up and settles them into her windswept waves, trailing behind Harry and taking in the space. In one corner across the room, she notices a couple of brightly colored tapestries thumbtacked to the wall with a microphone stand perched in the center, all encased behind a screen of plexiglass. The adjacent wall is lined with guitars all standing at attention and glimmering, despite the dim lighting. Harry stops at the doorway of another room with a couch and a coffee table, the floor littered with wires and pieces of crumpled paper. He motions Alani to step inside and then clears his throat, which catches the attention of two other long-haired men chatting with amused expressions on their faces.

“Sorry lads,” Harry crosses his arms with eyes glued to the floor to avoid their questioning stares. “‘Fraid I have to intrude. Can we have this room?” 

One of the men grins behind a full beard,  popping a peanut M&M into his mouth before standing. “Sure thing, boss man. Let’s bounce, Rowland.”

The other man, also bearded but smaller in stature with a thin, pointed nose nods silently. He continues twirling two drumsticks between his fingers and points one of them at Harry in passing. Alani offers polite smiles at the both of them, and a quiet “thank you” falls from her lips as they exit without another word. Harry closes the door behind them and gestures to the couch, which she takes as her cue to sit.

“I like the uniform,” Alani smiles, gesturing to her hair as a comment on the fact that the three men all share similar lengths and styles.

“Thanks,” is all Harry says, taking a seat across from hers and clearly dismissing her attempt at humor.

To pacify the urge to fill the uncomfortable silence, Alani sips her strawberry smoothie and steals a glance through her eyelashes at Harry who is doing the same. She clears her throat after a minute and sets the drink on the table in front of her; a notebook takes its place on her lap.

“Thank you again for doing this, I really appreciate it,” Alani offers while digging through her bag for her phone. “I’m gonna record this on voice notes, just for the sake of quoting you accurately.”

“Sure,” Harry replies, occupying his gaze with the condensation trickling from the cup onto his fading black jeans. 

Dry retorts from everyone else, especially customers, have little effect on the way Alani conducts herself.  But every short comment from Harry, or lack thereof, makes her feel like a bug under a microscope. She settles her phone onto the coffee table and takes a deep breath to calm the trembling that spreads from her chest into her fingers and toes.

“So first, I wanted to ask about your time in Hawai’i. Are you enjoying it so far?” Alani poses the question lightly, hoping to open him up just enough to extract the story that she’s really looking for.

“It’s nice,” Harry nods, finally meeting her expectant stare. When she doesn’t respond for a beat, he clears his throat and adds on to the statement. “Weather’s good,”

Alani musters a half-hearted smile and glances down at the questions on her page. This is going to take for-fucking-ever, she sighs.

“Is that what drew you here—vacation? Getting away?” 

“Yeah, pretty much,”

The row of guitars behind the singer catches her attention suddenly and guides the next question.

“And to write or.. record?”

Harry shifts in his seat, calculating his response carefully. “Both,”

“Solo stuff?”

Alani watches as he takes a slow sip of his smoothie and crosses his legs, an action which tells her that she’s struck a dead end. Or, at the very least, a door that she hasn’t gained his trust to open yet.

“You were with One Direction for half a decade,” She recovers. “Constantly releasing new music and touring. But now you’re here, doing neither, and haven’t done so for almost a year. What is that transition like?” Alani isn’t sure if Harry will answer when she poses the question, but to her surprise he meets her gaze and nods, as if to say that he accepts the inquiry.

“It’s different than anything I’ve ever done, for sure,” he starts slowly. It’d be a lie to say that he hasn’t given the breakup and, subsequently, his future outside of the band much thought. He thinks about it every day, especially his bandmates and their supportive fans. That much he has been able to unpack privately, but the rest of it—the sudden need to escape and write new music— is still something he can’t quite put into words, so he leans into the nostalgia and hopes it’ll suffice.

“Like you said, it’s been non-stop for the past five years, so I guess it is a bit jarring to come to a sudden halt after so much momentum. Obviously, it’s nice to have the time off, but I love putting out music and touring it. I wouldn’t trade that for anything,”

Alani is grateful to have more than a couple of words of material, despite the fact that it doesn’t really answer the question or tell her anything new about the man sitting crossed legged and closed off in front of her. Looking through her notes, Alani selects another question and embarks on a new angle.

“You were really young when all of that began,” she starts, thinking about how she could never have left her family and home at just 16. Hell, she was 22 and still figuring it out. Hopefully, if all things went well with this interview and Rolling Stone, she would finally find the opportunity to do it. “Do you ever think about where you would be if you hadn’t auditioned for X-Factor?”

Harry knows that she’s playing it safe, trying to feel him out and test the buttons she can push. He also knows that he’s being difficult, much more so than usual due to his nerves. So with an unfamiliar pang in his chest, he decides to relent the tiniest bit.

“Well, I’m starting to think maybe I could’ve been a professional surfer,” he offers matter-of-factly which makes Alani flash an amused grin. Harry’s sudden humor makes the room a bit less suffocating for the both of them and she’s grateful for it.

“Surfing, huh? This I have to see.” she  quips back, suddenly trying to picture him ditching the black skinny jeans for a wetsuit.

He nods with a faint smirk. “Maybe you will.” 

Alani meets his gaze with a shy smile of her own and her eyes fall to his lips for a brief second. The almost imperceptible action sends another foreign jolt through Harry’s chest. She opens her mouth to resume questioning when a loud bang startles them both and causes Harry to spin in his seat, looking through the glass window of the sound booth.

“Sorry!” A man with short, blonde hair and a fading tie dye shirt laughs while lifting the tipped over drum cymbals. “Don’t mind us!”

The two men from earlier straggle in behind and poorly conceal their own fits of laughter. Harry flashes his middle finger briefly, mouthing something that Alani can’t see but knows is undoubtedly rude. She suppresses a giggle and sneaks a glance at her phone, which indicates only a few minutes worth of dialogue. When she lifts her head, the door opens and the blonde man peeks his head in.

“Hello,” he greets with an extended hand before entering and taking a seat next to Alani on the couch. “Tom Hull, or Kid Harpoon...or just Tom, whatever you like best,” 

 She accepts his hand eagerly, not missing the way Harry pinches the bridge of his nose in her peripheral vision. “Mahealani Hale, or just Alani. Nice to meet you,”

“Wow, beautiful name,” Tom compliments. “Sorry to interrupt, I didn’t realize you had company, H,”

“She was just—”

“I’m writing about-” The two speak at the same time, making brief eye contact before Harry turns his attention back to Tom.

“Did you need something?” He asks. Tom’s eyes dart between Harry and Alani before he clears his throat and reclines in his seat.

“Just dropping by to see if you wanted to go for lunch...” he trails off, which Alani takes as a cue to start gathering her belongings.

“Kind of busy here,” Harry offers with a glance back at the girl seated awkwardly across from him. “Another time,”

At this, Tom turns to Alani and ignores his friend’s protests. “Alani, do you eat lunch?”

Before responding, she casts an apprehensive glimpse at Harry who has suddenly become very intrigued by the drink in his lap, purposefully avoiding her eyes.

“Uh.. well yeah, but I don’t-”

“Great! Have lunch with us,”

“Mate—” Harry speaks up.

Tom grins, shrugging. “What? You plan on starving the poor girl?”

“I really can’t, but thank you for the offer,” Alani explains with a sheepish smile, standing and slinging her bag over her shoulder. “It was really nice to meet you Tom. And thank you again, Harry, I’ll see you around.”

The musician watches her shuffle out of the sound booth quietly and turns his attention back at Tom, who sits with an incredulous look on his face.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” He asks, standing. “Go after her, dickhead!”

“It’s not like that she’s-”

“I really don’t give a fuck about your excuses, go!”

Harry scoffs and rolls his eyes, looking out the window as Alani slips through the front door.

She fishes her keys out of her bag and sighs when a familiar voice says her name.

“Alani!” Harry calls from the doorway, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun. He makes his way down the steps and over to the driver’s side where she  ghosts the key over the ignition. 

“Come have lunch...please?” 

“It’s okay,” she purses her lips together politely. “I don’t wanna get in the way,”

Harry catches his lower lip between his teeth and runs a hand through his hair, choosing his next words thoughtfully. 

“No, you’re not—you won’t,” he starts. “I would really like it if you joined us for lunch, especially since our time got interrupted. Please, let me make it up to you.”

Alani can’t help the way her stomach flips at the words “our time” that fall from his lips and she finds herself nodding in agreement before her mind has had a chance to intervene. 

She makes her way to the passenger seat of the Range Rover parked behind the studio, which she learns is where all of Harry’s entourage keeps their vehicles. A variety of brightly colored vintage cars are neatly parked, and it amuses her that Harry skips all of them, instead going straight for the black SUV with darkly tinted windows. At least he’s consistent,  she smirks. As Alani climbs into the car, she is met by the warmth of Harry’s scent—something woodsy and vanilla— and the fact that she recognizes it makes her heart pound.

“You can connect your phone,” Harry nods to the stereo as he buckles his seatbelt. “To the Bluetooth, I mean, if you’d like.”

 “Really?” she asks, brow raised in mild disbelief.

“Only if you play something good,” he teases with a stony expression, adjusting the sunglasses on the bridge of his nose. Alani takes that as a challenge, scrolling through various playlists as Harry peels away onto the main road. Over the speakers, the beginning of “Don’t Worry Baby” by The Beach Boys surrounds the two of them. 

“Is this to your liking, my liege?” Alani poses in an exaggerated British accent that makes Harry cringe, though the small grin on his face gives away his endearment.

“Yes, but please don’t do that accent ever again,” 

“So you admit it, you’re the one with the accent,” she wiggles her brows, eyes peeling away  from the view out her window to Harry in the driver’s seat.

“If it’ll get you to never do that one again, sure,” “Dunno, love,” she continues, watching the coast shimmer under the afternoon sun. “Think  it kinda suits me,”

Harry shakes his head and checks the rearview mirror to make sure that he hasn’t lost Tom, Mitch, and Jeff in the car trailing behind.

“What’s it like?” Alani questions, studying the perfect slope of his pointed nose and strawberry pout.

“What’s what like?”

“England,”

Harry thinks for a second, recalling his London flat, lunches with his mum and sister, the streets of Trafalgar Square, and Abbey Road. 

“Rainy,” is all he says.

Alani scoffs, which draws  his attention over to where she lounges in his passenger seat, sitting comfortably as if it was exactly where she belonged. “That’s all?”

“What?” He questions, though he knows exactly what she means and is perfectly aware of his own stubbornness.

“Just seems like... I don’t know, such a generic description for a place you consider home,”

Harry mulls her response over, the word “home” especially catching his interest. It’s a strange concept in his mind because while, yes, England is where he has spent the majority of his life and where the people he loves most reside, he has never truly felt connected to just one place. And after spending his formative years traveling the world, who could blame him?

“It’s... safe,” he tries again, attempting to verbalize what he’s feeling. “When I’m there, I mean, I feel safe. Like I don’t have to be anyone or do anything specific, I can just... be. No expectations,”

Alani lets Harry’s words sit between them for a moment, sensing that there is still more he wants to say. When she doesn’t respond after a minute,  he continues in an effort to clarify and fill the lull in the conversation.

“I used to think that London was just a starting point and that if I could make it to LA, it would mean that I had really made it, and I would feel more at home there,” he continues, slow and calculated. “But I dunno... when I’m there it still feels like an extended holiday,  like I’m just buying time until I leave for the next place. London doesn’t feel like that, feels much more constant... so yeah, I guess it is home,” 

As if she had read his mind earlier, Alani adds on. “Not to mention that’s where your family is, I’m assuming,” 

Harry nods, once again thinking of his mum and sister. The image of their beaming faces  brings the shadow of a dimple to his cheek.  “Yeah,”

“What’s your family like?” She continues, truly interested and forgetting for a moment about the article she still has to write.

“Kind of small, I guess. S’really just my sister and my mum, but they’re,” Harry pauses, searching for the right words, “They’re the best. My mum’s probably the kindest woman I’ve ever met. Feel pretty lucky with that one, considering what a pest I was as a child,” he chuckles lightly and it’s a sound that Alani hadn’t heard up to this point, but one she knows she’ll replay in her mind over and over again.

“Gem’s pretty patient too—and brilliant, always the studious one,” he adds finally, a dreamy look on his face that Alani much prefers to the stoic one he always dons. .

“Ah yes, there’s always one,” she nods, catching the quirked brow he offers in response.

“Oh yeah? Are you the one in your family?” 

“I guess so. School just seemed to come easily to me,”

“And what made you want to study journalism?” He questions, stopping to let a woman and her toddler cross.

Alani thinks about it for a moment while twirling a strand of fabric from the hem of her ripped shorts around her finger. 

“I’ve always loved to write, ever since I was really little— like short stories and stuff. And I don’t know, I guess I like the idea of traveling and seeking out a story, too.”

Harry nods understandingly, pulling up to a curb across the street from a restaurant that Alani has frequented. It’s relatively empty at Pineapples for a summer afternoon, though most tourists don’t stray too far from the beaches, so Hilo maintains a healthy local population at all times. The pair climb out of the car and Alani makes her way to the rear where the rest of the group has parked. One of the men from earlier greets her with an outstretched hand while Harry chats with the other two that emerge.

“Hi I’m Jeff, it’s nice to meet you.” He smiles warmly,  pushing his sunglasses into his hair. 

“Alani. It’s nice to meet you, Jeff,”

“Sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to be rude by not saying hi it’s just-”

Alani dismisses his concern with a wave of her hand. “Oh don’t worry about it! I was kind of nervous then, too. I don’t know if he told you, but I’m interviewing Harry,”

“Oh, right! Yeah, he did mention that I think,” Jeff recalls, “Which magazine are you with?”

“None.” Yet, Alani thinks, her mind wandering to the Rolling Stone rejection letter. “It’s for a class, I’m a journalism major. Harry was just being nice and agreed to let me write about his music,”

Jeff nods. “Got it. You know, he’s not normally this serious. Just got a lot on his mind but he’ll loosen up,” he explains quietly just as Alani and Harry’s eyes meet. She quickly averts her gaze back to the kind, bearded man standing before her.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” she smiles appreciatively.

“Where’s Jeffrey?” Harry speaks up, catching her attention. She looks back to Jeff, confused, before he shakes his head.

“Other Jeff, his manager.” He explains.

“Probably already inside, he said he’d meet us here.” Mitch pipes up.

With that, the rest of the crew head into the restaurant while Alani stays a few steps behind to follow their lead.

“Y’okay?” Harry asks, shuffling along beside her.

Alani startles slightly at his unexpected presence, but relaxes as their strides fall into sync.

“Yeah, thanks. And thank you for the invite, too.” She offers, the corners of her mouth upturned softly.  Harry responds with a tight-lipped smile of his own and clears his throat before holding the door open for her.

In the far corner of the restaurant near the open balcony, Harry’s manager Jeff waves the group over to the table he saved. Everyone exchanges greetings and settles into their seats, the two at the end facing each other remain open for Alani and Harry.

“Jeff, this is..Mahealani, did I get that right?” Tom gestures to Alani for approval.

She nods and waves. “Yes, but you can just call me Alani,”

“Nice to meet you,” Jeff calls from the other end of the table, glancing over to Harry in search of  an explanation for her presence.

“I’m writing a piece about Harry and his music,” Alani offers. “But I’d love to talk to all of you, if you have a chance.”

Jeff nods, still shooting Harry a knowing look. “Yeah, sure thing.” 

The two Jeffs, Tom, and Mitch engage in their own conversations, mostly inside jokes that go over Alani’s head. Harry watches, silent for most of the interaction and barely engaging the girl seated across from him, though he is overwhelmingly aware of her presence. When the server comes to take their order, warmth floods to Alani’s cheeks.

“Alani, hey!” the tall server greets, flashing a handsome, pearly-white smile. “Long time, no see. You’re looking good as always,”

“Mahalo, David. You look good, as well,” She smiles politely, catching onto the way that Harry sits a little straighter in her peripheral vision. David still pays no regard to the rest of the table, but his gaze momentarily flickers over Harry and sizes him up before returning to Alani.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were on a date,” he apologizes, which makes Alani’s eyes bulge  and Mitch snicker beside her. 

“Oh no, we’re not—“

“He’s just—” Alani and Harry speak at the same time, eyes darting to one another before she explains.

“I’m... working on something—an article,” she says, and David nods understandingly.

“Oh...right. Big-shot reporter, I almost forgot,” David teases in a snide way that makes Harry’s blood boil with annoyance. “Anyways, what can I get you all? The usual for you, right Alani?”

She nods curtly while the rest of the group take turns ordering. After the server has gone,  Harry notices a shift in her easy-going demeanor and decides that it’s his turn to break the ice.

“Come here often then?” He poses gently, taking a sip of his lemonade.

Her lips press into a tight line as her eyes wander to the other patrons. “Yeah, kinda,”

“Asshole ex-boyfriend ruined that, I’m guessing?”

Alani lets out an amused breath and shakes her head.

“He’s not my ex. I mean we went out, like, once in high school... and maybe a handful of times in college but that’s it, really,” 

Harry studies the uneasiness in her expression trying, and failing, to understand what she’s holding back.

“Seems like you dodged a bullet,” he confides, leaning in. Alani’s eyes meet his and her pursed lips ease into a small grin, which Harry mirrors with a simper of his own. As he rests his smooth chin in his palm, she notices a large, healing scab along the underside of his forearm, and her brows furrow.

“How’d that happen?” Alani asks.

“He jumped out a window,” Mitch intervenes. “Though to be fair, he was high,”

Harry shoots a deathly glare at Mitch and turns back to Alani. “It was a one-time thing.”

“It was shrooms,” Mitch replies with an amused smirk.

“Hardcore,” Alani giggles lightly. 

Mitch swirls the straw in his mimosa with his index finger while extending a pinky at Alani. “You do drugs?”

She shrugs, taking a sip of her Mai Tai. “Smoked weed a few times, though not enough to consider myself a pothead, I guess,”

Mitch snorts and steals a glance at Harry. “Pot makes our boy sleepy, and hungry. Alcohol makes him giggly. Shrooms get him buzzed just right,”

Harry’s cheeks flush and he averts his gaze past Alani where families and visitors roam the streets outside. 

“Jumping out a window’s  ‘just right’? I’d hate to see what going overboard looks like.” she teases, watching the blush of embarrassment creep across the bridge of Harry’s nose and cheeks.

“Keeps things interesting.” Mitch shrugs, turning back to Jeff to join his previous conversation.

 Alani feels a strange sense of endearment wash over her at the thought of a giggly Harry, dimples replacing a deeply furrowed brow. In the short time she’d known and served him at the café, she’d only ever seen him reserved—polite, at best. Alani had hoped that interviewing Harry would provide some insight into his mysterious background, but she didn’t imagine that she would want to know more than what could be penned in her article. In the few minutes spent mingling with him and his friends, she began to think that maybe there was something worth getting to know, not just professionally, but before she can give it a second thought, David returns with their food.

“Thanks, Derek.” Harry says, flashing a facetious grin at David who stands confused for a second before sauntering back to the kitchen. Alani laughs, quickly clasping a hand over her mouth, and Harry’s stomach flips at the sound. He immediately wishes he knew what else he could do to hear it again.

Alani scrapes the last bits of potato off her plate and leans back in her seat, patting her growing food baby. 

“I’m thinking of naming mine Oliver, you?” She sighs contentedly. 

“Anne, after my mum,” he quips back, pulling out his wallet.

Alani reaches into her bag for her own, but Harry shakes his head and speaks up. “Don’t worry about it, ‘s on me,”

“Oh, no Harry you really don’t have to—”

“I don’t mind,” he shrugs, slipping his card onto the small clipboard attached to their receipts.

“Thank you,” Alani smiles, feeling warmth spread through her limbs, but she assumes that it’s mostly due to the rum in her system.

Harry pushes a lock of hair behind his ear and returns the wallet to his back pocket without another word. While there is no alcohol coursing through his blood, he refuses to believe that the burning in his cheeks has anything to do with the girl seated before him.

Alani climbs back into the passenger’s seat of the SUV while Harry settles behind the wheel. He braces his right hand behind the headrest of her seat and skillfully reverses, only becoming aware of their proximity when he turns back to switch gears. Alani peels her eyes from his and focuses on finding a playlist for their journey back to the studio, her mind racing as she clicks shuffle. Harry’s arm retreats, much to Alani’s disappointment, and his ears perk up when he hears the familiar chimes at the beginning of Fleetwood Mac’s “Everywhere”.

“‘S a good one,” Harry breaks the silence, tapping on the steering wheel. “Christine always says it’s her favorite,”

“Christine...McVie?” Alani questions with an eyebrow quirked. “You know Christine McVie?”

“Kind of,” he shrugs, the corners of his lips twitching into a smirk.

“Do you know Stevie Nicks?”

“Yeah. She lives in London,”

“Holy shit!” Alani marvels, covering her mouth in excitement.

Harry chuckles lightly, stealing a glance over at Alani still processing the news. “Big fan?” 

She whips her head away from the window and scoffs. “Massive. Named my car Stevie, actually,”

“Hardcore,” Harry teases, echoing her own comment about his psychedelic escapades.

“Yes, Mr. Spider-Man. In my own right, I suppose it is hardcore,” Alani retorts.

“I thought  Spider-Man climbed buildings. Don’t think he jumped out of them.”

“I’m sure he’s done his fair share of both.”

The two drive down the coast for a while without a word, Harry drumming against the steering wheel as the song dies out while Alani soaks in the view outside her window. Suddenly, she reaches over and taps him on the arm, drawing him out of his reverie. 

“Turn right up there!”

“Why?” Harry asks, already putting his blinker on. 

Alani doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t need to. Harry saw it just seconds after turning into the lookout and it left him breathless. The car comes to a stop and Alani wastes no time unbuckling her seatbelt and stepping into the humid air, Harry close behind. Before them, the biggest rainbow either of them had ever seen shimmers in the high afternoon sun like a wall of unbelievable vibrant hues. Harry had never seen one this close, he felt as though he could reach out and feel each color slip through his fingers. 

“Are you making a wish?” Alani asks reverently, as if raising her voice too loud will spook it away. 

“I thought that was for shooting stars,”

“We’re literally staring face to face with a rainbow and you’re gonna argue with me about the logistics of a wish?”

“Okay, okay,” he relents, grinning to himself as his eyes flutter close. 

Harry takes a deep breath and searches his brain for something, anything, but there is only one word pounding in his mind. He doesn’t know why it stood out to him when Alani first said it, but it struck a chord within him that hasn’t stopped reverberating, so it must mean something. Harry swallows the lump forming at the back of his throat and releases the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. When his eyes flutter open again, he steals a peek through the corner of his eye at the girl beside him and then fixes his gaze back on the rainbow. 

“S’quite big, innit?” He remarks, breaking the reverent silence. 

Alani snorts and shakes her head, turning on her heel back to the car. 

“You’re so eloquent. Can’t wait to hear what lyrical gems are hiding in your new album,”

“Heyyy,” Harry pouts, climbing behind the wheel. “Who said anything about an album?” 

As they peel away from the lookout, Harry can sense something has shifted in the atmosphere, though he can’t quite put his finger on it. He opts to ignore it and poses a lighthearted question instead. 

“What’d you wish for?”

Alani narrows her eyes playfully. “You’re not supposed to tell. It won’t come true.”

Harry hums, trying to imagine what she could possibly wish for that would require such secrecy, but his thoughts wander back to the singular word that has haunted his mind since it left her lips. 

Home.

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