#tagging this with everything because this idea has taken me over and now everyone can suffer lmao

[thedreamlessnights]

Stress Relief

Satoru Gojo x F!Reader - NSFW

AO3 Link

Synopsis: During a drinking game, you confess you've never had an orgasm before. Gojo, your friend of a year, doesn't like that.

Warnings and tags: 18+ (and I cannot stress this enough). No use of 'Y/N.' Mentions of alcohol and being buzzed, but not during sex. Fingering, oral (giving and receiving), first time climaxing, facesitting, multiple orgasms. P in V sex, cumming inside, leaving and receiving marks.

Word Count: 7.3k

Your night starts like most of your bad ideas do: with a little alcohol in your system, a shot glass in your hand, and Shoko at your side. 

You don’t know half of the people who are sitting in the circle around you, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. It’s been a while since you’ve been in a situation like this. That’s usually a good thing, but you need the stress relief tonight. 

Even your slight buzz has some of the constant tension in your shoulders slipping away, being replaced by a pleasant warmth.

“Alright,” Shoko says, sitting up. You can barely hear her over the blaring music of the party. “Never have I ever—”

“Hey, what’s this?” a voice cuts her off, and you don’t even have to look up to know who it is. Your entire body goes stiff. So much for releasing tension. “Playing without me?”

“Gojo,” she says, her tone dry. “If you’d like to join, you’re welcome to.”

“Satoru, over here!” someone chirps, scooting over to make room for him.

But he plops down in between you and Shoko, stretching his legs out in front of him. Shit. You’re dying to look over at him, to see what’s on his face, but you know better than to risk that. Your eyes stay trained on your fingers, determined to keep your drink steady in your hand.

“Here,” Shoko says. Out of your peripheral vision, you can see that she’s handing him a shot glass and filling it up. “Now, then. Never have I ever… fallen asleep during class.”

There’s a collective groan. Your glass meets your lips as soon as she’s finished the question, and you can see Gojo’s hand rise, too. Then comes his grimace. He’s never liked the taste of alcohol.

When you’ve downed the shot, you find Shoko’s eyes fixed on you.

“Gojo, I expected. But you?” she asks.

Your cheeks grow even warmer, and you can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or embarrassment. “It was only once,” you insist. “I was really tired from training, and… it just… happened.”

“Aww, Ieiri, give her some slack. It happens to the best of us,” Gojo says.

“Okay, my turn!” someone calls, sitting on Shoko’s other side. You don’t recognize her, but the pink flush in her cheeks tells you she’s had more than enough to drink tonight. “Everyone ready?”

You scramble for the bottle in the middle, clumsily pouring more. A little spills over your hand, wetting your glass and making it harder to hold onto.

“Pass it over?” Gojo asks, and it takes a moment before you realize he’s talking to you. Your fingers brush when he takes the bottle from you, and something hot and sharp shoots up your arm. You nearly drop your shot glass.

Damn him.

You can handle him when you’re sober, or when you’re next to Shoko—but he’s blocked you off, and you know he can read every reaction of yours. Gojo sees everything; isn’t that what everyone says?

“Never have I ever… faked an orgasm,” the girl calls. 

Your stomach drops.

Gojo doesn’t move. Shoko doesn’t move. Great, you think. Of course. If you don’t move either, would they know you’re lying? No, they couldn’t possibly. 

But… the point of this game is being honest. It’s no fun if people aren’t willing to take risks. 

The alcohol buzzing in your veins must be giving you a temporary sense of boldness, because you find yourself tilting another shot down your throat before you can think better of it. Most people in the circle are drunk enough that they either don’t see you or don’t care, but you have no doubt that two people in particular have taken notice.

“Oh, really?” Gojo remarks softly, almost to himself.

“Wait. Hang on, what?” Shoko asks. “Who? The asshole at the bar that one night?”

“Shoko,” you hiss, trying to stop her, but she just keeps going.

“Or was it that one… what was his name? The one with black hair?”

“Shoko.”

“Come on, you can’t seriously think I won’t chop whoever it was into tiny pieces.”

“It really wasn’t, um. I- I mean...” You have to stop for a minute to gather yourself, sucking in a deep breath. “It really wasn’t their fault, I just…”

“Wasn’t their fault?” Shoko repeats, her tone sharpening. 

“I’ve never really h-had one,” you stammer out. “So it wasn’t their fault that I didn’t. I don’t think I… can.”

There’s a long beat as they both gape at you. If you could melt straight into the carpet and never return, you’d do it in a heartbeat. Shoko’s staring at you, and you know Gojo is, too, but you refuse to look at him.

“It’s not a big deal,” you force out, giving a shrug. “It still felt nice, so…”

Just as you’re about to grab the bottle again, Gojo snatches it up, holding it out of your reach. “Hang on just a minute,” he says. “Am I hearing that right? You’ve never had an orgasm?”

And despite yourself, you find yourself meeting his eyes.

It’s a stupid thing to do. Absolutely idiotic, because the moment you look at him, it’s like he’s seeing everything. Every shitty night in bed, every small detail you’d prefer to hide from him, every embarrassing memory you want to lock away. 

Worst of all, he looks so ridiculously pretty that you can barely tear your gaze away from him. His hair perfectly tousled like always, dark sunglasses perched at the end of his nose, blue eyes bright and attentive. The first buttons of his shirt undone, exposing his sternum.

You’ve been Gojo’s friend for the last year or so (and that’s mostly due to how much time you spend with Shoko), but it’s still a rare occasion when he gives you his full attention. It’s unnerving, and it takes everything in you not to spout a shitty excuse and bolt home, never to come out again.

“I need another drink,” Shoko mutters, shaking her head. “Something strong.”

She gets to her feet and you race to go with her, leaving Gojo with his unanswered question and the half-empty bottle of booze still in his hand. He’s smart. Probably smarter than you are. If he wants to know so badly, he can put the information together himself.

You’re almost expecting him to chase after you, but he doesn’t. In fact, you don’t see him for the rest of the night—not until the party is over, leaving scattered pieces of trash all over the carpet and multiple people sprawled out on various pieces of furniture. 

You don’t envy the cleaning job Shoko and her roommate will have to do tomorrow, and you also don’t envy their future hangovers. You had your last drink hours ago, and much to your disappointment, it’s worn off completely.

“Heading out?” Shoko asks, leaning in to kiss your cheek. Her voice is still a little slurred.

“Yeah,” you tell her, giving her a smile. “I should really get to bed.”

She frowns. “You’re not walking, right?”

“It’s not far. I’ll be fine.”

She shoots you a look—both disappointed and annoyed. “Sometimes you really are stupid,” she replies, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t want to have to heal you up tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry, Ieiri. I’ll walk with her.”

Gojo.

“Good,” she says. “Make sure she doesn’t get killed.”

“I really don’t need—” you start, but he’s already slinging an arm over your shoulder and pulling you toward the door.

“See ya, Shoko!” he says. “Drink some water!”

You can’t hear what she says back, but she sounds annoyed.

Gojo practically drags you out of the apartment and onto the street, and the entire time, he keeps you close and his arm fixed around you. Much to your irritation, he’s warm, and he smells like sandalwood and vetiver. Some expensive cologne, no doubt. You hate how much you like that smell.

“So,” he says, keeping his eyes fixed in front of him. “You never answered my question.”

That asshole.

“Really? Which one?” you ask innocently.

“Oh, you know,” he drawls. “Just the one where I asked if it was true that you’ve never had an orgasm.”

He says it casually, like the two of you are talking about the weather, but it still makes heat flare across your cheeks. “Right. That one.” 

You’re desperately trying to think of a way to get out of this, but you can’t find anything to save you. He’s got you wrapped in his grip, and there’s nowhere to hide. You’re almost home, though—if you can just delay him…

“Yeah. That one,” he echoes. You can tell he’s smirking, just from the sound of his voice. When you look up, his face confirms it. He holds your gaze evenly, not a trace of shame. Not that you’ve ever seen him look shameful, not in all the time you’ve known him.

Warmth stirs in your gut, and you swallow hard. He has to know what he’s doing to you, right? There's no way he doesn't. 

“Why are you so interested in hearing the answer?” you ask.

The corner of his lip quirks up. “How about this: you answer my question first, and then I’ll answer that.”

Just a little further and you’ll be free. Does he have to be staring at you like that? Does he have to be so god damn close? It’s putting all kinds of stupid ideas into your head.

“It’s true,” you admit, looking down at your feet. “Not that it’s any of your business, Gojo.”

“Is it?” He doesn’t sound particularly surprised. “Well, then.”

The two of you come to a stop, and when he finally drops his arm from your shoulder, you realize you’re standing in front of your front door. You should dash inside and forget any of this ever happened. Wake up tomorrow, and rinse him out of your thoughts, and go on with your life.

But that’s wishful thinking, knowing you. He’d still be on your mind. He always is. 

You know it’s stupid of you to want him like this. There’s no guarantee that he’ll be any different than the rest. No guarantee that he actually wants you back, or that this isn’t just petty flirting to get under your skin. Still, you can't quite find it in yourself to turn him away without even trying.

And if anyone is going to be different than the rest...

“Y-you didn’t answer my question,” you tell him, anxiously fidgeting with the bottom of your skirt. 

“I didn’t?” he asks, tilting his head. “Must have slipped my mind.” He pulls off his sunglasses and steps closer. Even though he’s not touching you anymore, his eyes might as well be pinning you to the wood behind you. “I asked because that’s quite the injustice for someone as pretty as you are.”

You’re suddenly very thankful for the door at your back, because your knees feel like they’re giving out.

“And, to be honest?” he continues, taking another step toward you. “That upsets me.”

“Gojo,” you murmur, trying to remember a single reason that you shouldn’t grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him inside. There were so many just a few seconds ago, but you can’t seem to find any of them anymore.

“Satoru,” he corrects. 

“Satoru.” It comes out breathy and weak, but he smiles at the sound of it.

“Well?” he asks, bringing his hands up to the door on your sides. Caging you in. “Were you planning to let me in any time soon?” His next words are delivered next to your ear, so close that you can feel his breath ghosting your skin. “I mean, I’m happy to fuck you out here, if that’s what you want—”

Now you really do grab him by the collar and yank him inside. 

He doesn’t waste a second before he has you pressed against the wall, taking your face in his hands and kissing you. 

God, for all his ego, he really does meet the mark. His lips are soft, and he smells so damn good, and when you get bold and tangle your fingers in his hair, it’s smooth and silky. You give an experimental tug, and he groans into your mouth. 

White-hot arousal floods down your spine. For a moment, you think you might crumple to the ground. 

Then one of his hands moves to your jaw, tilting your head to the side so he can kiss down your neck, and fuck, it’s incredible. He nips at the sweet spot behind your ear, and you find yourself letting out a soft, needy sound that he hums in response to.

If he really does manage to make you come, it’ll be ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous, because you can’t even count the number of nights you spent hours just trying to get yourself close and failing miserably. He can’t possibly be good at everything.

But his knee slides between your legs, and you honestly start to debate grinding against it for some relief. It’s pathetic.

“To the bedroom?” he asks, pulling away. He’s breathless; you’ve never heard that before.

“Bedroom,” you confirm, taking him by the hand and pulling him further into the house. When the two of you get in, you fall back onto the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows and shifting backward. 

You just have the mind to be embarrassed about the multiple plushies on your sheets, shoving them aside as quickly as you can, before he's crawling over you and grinning. 

“Cute,” he says. Then he straddles your hips with his thighs, sliding his fingers under your shirt and starting to peel it up. It comes off easily, leaving you in your bra, your chest heaving as you stare up at him. One nimble movement from him, and the bra is off, too, being tossed to the side.

This is insane. All of this. How is it possible that Satoru’s kissed you, and wants you, and is in your bedroom taking off your clothes? His eyes sweep over you and you squirm, suddenly self-conscious. He could have anyone he wanted—why you? What if you aren’t what he thought? 

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs, tracing a hand from your sternum down to your navel. His eyes are darker than usual, pupils dilated, and you can swear that his cheeks are the slightest bit flushed. “Even better than I imagined.”

“Satoru,” you whimper, and he grins. 

“Relax,” he instructs, but he’s pushing your skirt up around your waist, and you know you must be absolutely fucking soaked, and how the hell are you supposed to relax?

He tilts his head, admiring the sight of you as he drags a slow finger over the front of the thong you’re wearing. You’re definitely soaked. 

“Wow,” he says. “You know, I’ve barely even touched you, but I think you might already be ready for me.”

At the sound of his words, you clench around nothing. He must be able to tell, because the smug smile he’s wearing widens. That cocky bastard. He’s still fully dressed. 

You reach up to tug at the bottom of his shirt, but he’s faster than you—his free hand closes around your wrist and holds it above your head.

“Oh no you don’t,” he chides. “Your job is to relax, remember?”

You’re ready to launch into the argument that seeing him with his clothes off will most certainly help you come, but he starts shifting downward and leans in to kiss you again, releasing your wrist to cradle your cheek with one hand and drift the other across your chest. Every coherent thought you have melts away, replaced by the feeling of his hands on your body.

You’re just considering begging for more when he pulls away, kissing down your jaw. His mouth is hot, and everywhere his lips touch seems to light you on fire: your neck, your collarbones, your chest. 

He pauses, and his breath tickles against your skin before he slowly trails his tongue around a nipple. You shudder and bury your hand in his hair, tugging and trying to get him to go a little faster, but he ignores your efforts and takes his sweet time—licking, kissing, nipping—until you’re certain he’s trying to cover every free inch of your skin.

Then, finally, his mouth starts to trail lower.

Just when he’s about to reach the place you most want him, he pulls away. Completely away, straddling your hips again and leaning his weight back onto his heels. Maybe he really does want you to beg. 

At least, that’s what you think until you see the expression on his face. He’s not smiling—not teasing. Instead, his brow is furrowed, and he’s studying you with a look in his eyes that you’ve only seen in rare moments, during training.

Concentration.

He slips two fingers under the waistband of your thong and starts to pull it down, urging your hip up with his other hand until the fabric peels away from you. Then he moves a thumb to your clit and starts to rub slow, agonizing circles, and shit. You can hardly breathe.

It’s good—really fucking good, better than you’ve ever been able to do for yourself—but he’s dragging it out. 

No one’s ever taken their time with you like this before, and everything about it is just… fucking overwhelming. The way he’s looking at you, the growing pleasure between your legs, the smell of him that seems to have bled into your sheets.

You can’t even squirm, because his weight on top of you is keeping you pressed into the mattress. His movements are almost lazy, but he’s watching your face attentively and taking note of your reactions to everything he’s doing. 

It’s so nerve-wracking that you’re tempted to drape an arm over your face just to get a break. The only reason you don’t is because you get the feeling he won’t like that, and you don't want to risk anything.

And then, right as you’re actually starting to lose yourself in his touch, it happens. Just like it always does. The moment you feel at all close to the edge, the moment when pleasure is coiling in your gut and spreading and building into something more, it snaps. A rope pulled taut, cut in two. 

You’re left with nothing but frustration and numbness, right back where you started. 

Satoru stops touching you, and it takes a few seconds for you to swallow down your disappointment before you can meet his eyes. It had seemed like it’d be different this time. You’d hoped it’d be different.

When you do look up, though, Satoru’s just… smiling. Like he’d expected it, and isn't the least bit phased.

What the fuck? you think, staring at him.

“Like I said. Relax,” he tells you, and you really could punch him for that. 

But then he lays a hand over your abdomen and applies a little pressure, and he’s right. You’re ridiculously tense. You force yourself to relax, and as soon as the tension under his hand releases, the pressure starts feeling… nice. Really nice.

“Good. Like that,” he says. “Breathe.” Then he shifts, and his weight on you eases. “Spread your legs for me,” he instructs.

When you do, he positions himself between your thighs. “Good girl,” he murmurs. You clench around nothing, and his smile widens. You’re waiting for him to start taking off his clothes, but he doesn't. His other hand returns to your clit, and you have to fight to keep your body from instantly tensing up again. 

Breathe, you tell yourself. You’re not even sure it’s doing anything, but you do it anyway.

It’s not like he’s making it easy for you, though. He’s touching you like he has all the time in the world. It’s good, but you really wish he would speed up or press harder or something. You should have known that Satoru, of all people, would tease you.

Asshole.

Deep breaths.

Just when you’ve started to get the hang of breathing and relaxing, he slides two fingers inside you and everything you’ve been doing goes out the window.

It’s agony. It’s bliss. It feels so fucking good that it almost hurts, but it's not enough. And the moment you go tense again, he stops. 

Breathe, breathe, breathe.

Your body relaxes little by little, and he goes back to what he’d been doing. Slipping his fingers inside you, tilting them until they’re brushing against a spot that has you seeing stars, sliding them in and out as your muscles fight to go tense. His thumb is still circling your clit.

“F-Fuck,” you choke out, grinding into his hand. 

Your eyes flutter closed and it’s all you can do to keep breathing. In and out, no tension, relax. You’re so focused on it that you don't notice you’re approaching the edge until it’s too late.

You clench around his fingers and come so fucking hard that you forget how to think.

Through your haze, you’re distantly aware of a few different things. Your ears are ringing. Your back is arching off the bed. You’ve completely stopped breathing, and you’re not sure you’ll remember how.

The pleasure comes in hot, intense waves—ebbing and flowing, drifting you down from your climax until you finally come back to your body. And with your post-orgasm riddled mind, you can only think of one thing to say:

“Holy shit.”

It comes out half broken, strangled. You’re laughing, almost delirious. Your mouth is dry. His fingers are still inside you, and they haven't stopped moving. You can’t decide if you want him to stop.

“What was that?” he asks, his voice dripping with self-satisfaction. “I didn’t hear you.”

“Shut up, Gojo,” you mumble, but you’ve already started grinding into his hand again.

“Satoru.”

“Sh-Shut up, Satoru.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he purrs. “I just might.”

His fingers leave you, and you nearly sob at the loss until your eyes fly open and you find him sucking them into his mouth and licking them clean, holding your gaze the entire time. 

A shiver runs down your spine. You think you might even stop breathing again, but you can’t be sure.

Before you can think of how the hell you’re going to respond to that, he’s back at your navel, repositioning himself and kissing lower and lower down until you’re convinced that he’s going to stop. Surely he’s not about to do what you’re thinking he’ll do. He’ll pull away, just like he had before. Right?

Then the warmth of his mouth closes over your clit and you gasp, your thighs snapping together on instinct. He takes hold of them, lightning-fast, holds them apart and moans at the taste of you, and you immediately lose the ability to think.

Your fingers tangle in his hair. One of his hands comes up to press down on your abdomen again. Your skirt is still fanned out around your waist. You’re starting to wonder if you might be dreaming; you have to be dreaming.

But dreaming or not, the pleasure is building again, and your back is starting to arch, and it’s far too soon to be here again with how long it took you the first time but there’s no stopping it now. 

He holds you down as you come, letting out another moan as you shudder and pant and make sounds you didn't even know you could make. All of this is only going to add to his ego, but—well, what are you supposed to do? 

And Gojo must be crazy, because he just keeps going. It’s not that you mind, but you’re desperate to reciprocate. You still haven't done anything to him. With all the nights you’ve spent secretly wanting this, you’ll never forgive yourself if you don't get to touch him.

“Satoru,” you whine, tugging at his hair.

He gives a small noise of complaint and finally pulls away. “Fuck,” he gasps, reaching up to unzip your skirt with one nimble movement. “Need you to sit on my fucking face.”

“What?”

He’s already trying to get you to move, urging you to sit up before stripping you completely naked.

“You haven't even taken off your shirt,” you protest, attempting to scoot away. 

He rips his shirt off so fast you think he might actually have torn it. One of the buttons pops off and rolls across the floor, but you barely hear it. 

You’re too busy staring at the sight of porcelain skin, soft and warm when you reach out to touch him, muscles tugging under your fingers as he moves.

While you’re distracted, he takes the opportunity to pull you onto his lap, and it immediately becomes clear that he’s so hard it must hurt. There's something animalistic in his eyes, and you want it, want what he’s asking for. You also want to touch him so badly that you think you might die.

“Satoru—”

But he’s already lying on his back, shifting down until he’s settled under your thighs. He nips at the delicate flesh there, sinking his teeth in until you’re sure it’s going to leave a mark. “Sit on my face,” he mumbles.

And God help you, you do.

He instantly gives an appreciative hum, and the vibration has you squirming, hips stuttering. One of his hands comes up to grab your ass, encouraging you to grind against him. When you do, he groans. His mouth starts moving faster, and it’s almost more than you can take. 

You’re starting to get lost in a haze again. A thick, pleasurable haze that’s clouding your vision and making it hard to breathe. 

You’ve had a couple men go down on you in the past, but it was nothing like this. If anything, it felt it was a chore for them—an incentive to get a blowjob, and nothing more.

How the fuck is Satoru Gojo the one who makes it feel like he actually wants you? You should be the one begging for his attention, desperate to get a night with him. And yet, here you are, being eaten out like he’s fucking starved, growing closer and closer to your third orgasm of the night.

You can’t take it anymore. Even though you’re panting, one of your hands trails back to run along his chest, settling briefly over his heart and feeling the way it’s pounding before moving further down. 

It’s an awkward reach, but you’re determined to touch him. You need to fucking touch him. He’s still hard, and it has to be painful, and you want to see the way he looks when he’s getting off.

But the moment you start to palm him through his pants, he pauses, kissing up your thigh. “Stop that,” he says breathlessly, punctuating the words with a soft bite. 

“But—”

Another nip, a little harder. “I’ll fuck you once you’ve come on my face.”

Fuck, you think. Why’d he have to say it like that? 

You’re still tempted to keep touching him, but he’s stubborn. It’ll probably be faster to do what he asks rather than try to argue with him. You reluctantly pull your arm back, and he continues what he’d been doing before. 

Eating you out. Very enthusiastically.

You shudder into your next climax within minutes, tugging at his hair as you do, vision blacking out, and he doesn't pull back until your hips are quite literally jerking away from his touch.

He places one last lick on your clit and shifts out from under you, sitting up. As soon as he does, you’re yanking him close and kissing him, straddling his lap with your thighs. You can feel him laugh against your lips, but you don’t even care anymore. You need him, need to fucking touch him, need to hear him. 

Then you start kissing down his throat, and his jaw clenches, and he inhales sharp and deep. I fucking knew it, you think. He’s just as affected as you are. 

When you dig your teeth into the skin, his breathing hitches and he tilts his head back, giving you more access. On impulse, you drag your tongue up his neck and he groans.

It’s driving you crazy, not having him where you want him. Should you go slow? Tease him? Do you have the patience for that? Your hands, or your mouth? 

You tug his belt off with trembling fingers, tossing it to the side, unbuttoning his pants as fast as you can. 

“Got somewhere to be?” he asks, tilting his head. 

On your cock, you think, shoving his pants down as far as you can. You give him a look, waiting. He huffs, then pulls them the rest of the way off.

Jesus, he’s hard for you. Even through his boxers, you can tell he must be desperate for some relief. Your lips find his on impulse, and he grips the back of your neck, licking into your mouth. 

His other hand settles on your waist, urging you down on top of him until you can feel his hardened cock under you. He grinds his hips up into you, and his grip tightens. “Fuck,” he whispers, so soft you barely hear it.

It feels so good you’re almost tempted to let him take over—almost. You’ll be damned if you don’t have your way with him, even just for a little bit. 

Placing your hands on his chest, you gently push him back, and you just catch a flash of the confusion on his face before you’re back at his jaw, trailing your lips down and over his collarbone, placing feather-light kisses down his chest.

Then you shift off of him and out of his hold. “Take these off,” you tell him, tugging at his boxers. While you’re waiting for him to comply, you push off the bed and kneel next to the edge, watching him expectantly.

But he doesn't move. The boxers stay on. 

“What’re you up to?” he asks. “Planning to put that pretty mouth of yours to good use?”

“Yes,” you tell him. “Now get naked and come over here.”

He grins, and it’s so boyish, so charming that you almost don't hear the next words. “Say please and I’ll consider it.”

You blink at him for a moment, almost thinking that he’s joking. But he's not. He's looking at you, waiting for you to beg.

And damn it, you’re actually going to.

“Please.” It comes out airy, softer than you meant it to be. 

“Oh, don't be shy now,” he purrs. “Let me hear you.” 

“Please,” you repeat, louder this time, forcing yourself to keep your eyes locked on his face. 

“Atta girl,” he murmurs, finally pulling off those damned boxers and moving to the edge of the bed. 

You adjust until you’re kneeling between his thighs, and his hand moves to your chin—tilting your face up until you’re gazing at him. 

God, the sight of him. His eyes are dilated, blown so dark that you can barely see the blue in them anymore. There’s a pretty flush to his cheeks, and his lips are parted. 

Something about seeing him like this, knowing it’s for you, has your thighs pressing together. But that’s not what you’re here for.

His cock is just as pretty as his face. Long and pale, flushed pink at the tip, already leaking for you. You knew he had to be desperate, but the proof of it in your hands is something else.

The taste of it is something else, too. 

He groans as soon as you take him between your lips, head tilting back and eyes falling closed as the velvety warmth of your mouth envelops him. His hand slides to the back of your neck, and he takes in a shaky breath. 

You’ve dreamed about seeing this so many times in private that it almost doesn’t feel real now. All those nights with your vibrator between your legs,  thinking of him, wondering how this might feel—they don’t even come close to this. 

The weight of him on your tongue. The way his brows pinch in pleasure when you take him deeper, your fingers taking everything you can’t fit, the way his breathing grows strained and heavy. 

The way he starts to guide you with the hand that’s on the back of your neck, gently encouraging you to pick up the pace. His hips start to lightly jerk into you, fucking into your mouth. 

“Shit, just like that,” he says. 

You’re so turned on that you can barely think. Everything you’re doing is entirely instinctive. You’re only vaguely aware of the fact that you’re squirming, thighs pressing together to get some relief.

You’re desperately trying to commit every detail to memory, because you’re very, very sure that this is never going to happen again, and you don’t want to forget anything, not one second of it. 

You file away every jagged inhale, the way the muscles of his thighs start to flex when he starts getting closer, the way he moans your name when you do something he particularly likes.

And then, just when it starts getting really fucking good, you find yourself being pulled off of him.

He’s panting, and there’s an intensity in his eyes that has a shiver running down your back. Jesus fuck, you want him. You’re about to start begging for him to finish in your mouth, but his thumb starts to trail slowly over your bottom lip and the words die in your throat, instantly forgotten. 

“Satoru…” you mumble instead.

“Told you I was going to fuck you, didn’t I?” he asks, pushing two fingers between your lips, pressing the pads of them onto your tongue. On impulse, you start sucking on them, and he grins. “I’ve been dreaming of being inside you for months now, you know.”

You whimper, and the sound comes out muffled.

“That’s right,” he coos, pulling his hand away. “Planning to come up here, or do you want me to take you there on the floor?”

Arousal shoots straight down to your cunt, and you scramble up. The floor sounds hot, but from experience—it’d just mean an aching spine. And, if the way he’s looking at you is any indication, you’re already going to be limping tomorrow. You should really spare yourself, if you can.

“Lay back,” he requests softly.

You do as he asks, and he nudges your legs apart with his knee, sitting back on his heels as he runs a hand up your thigh. Then higher and higher, drawing a slow, lazy circle around your clit before sliding his fingers down against your entrance. 

You’re fucking soaked. You’ve been ready for him since he first pressed you against that wall and kissed you, and you’re so wet now that when he lifts his hand away, you can see the evidence of yourself shining in the light. 

The corners of his lips quirk up as he inspects his fingers, and he huffs a laugh. “Damn, baby, all of this for me?” He tilts his head. “Better not let it go to waste.”

He wraps his hand around his length and starts to stroke himself, and the moment you realize what he’s doing, you clench around nothing and whine, grasping at the sheets—even though it doesn’t do much to ground you. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, his eyes fluttering shut. You swallow hard and study his long lashes against his cheeks for a moment, watching his brows knit together. “Need to be inside you right fucking now,” he says, the words quiet but intense, his gaze finally meeting yours again.

You spread your legs wider, and a muscle in his jaw tenses. 

“So damn pretty,” he murmurs, grabbing at your thighs. “So fucking wet.” Then he pulls you over to him, the movement so smooth and quick that by the time your lips are parting in shock, he’s already bending down to kiss you. 

It’s hungry and messy and desperate; sharp teeth and his hand on your cheek and the lingering taste of you on his tongue. Him moaning into your mouth when you fist a hand into his hair and tug him even closer.

Then he props himself up on his elbows and lines himself up with you, flashing you one more mischievous smile before he’s pressing inside.

He doesn’t go slow or particularly gentle when he thrusts into you, all the way to the hilt. You’re so ready for him that it’s all pleasure—white-hot, searing in your nerves until you can barely think. 

Everything is heat and friction. The world fades away and becomes the addictive stretch of him filling you, him bending down and swallowing up the noises you make for him with another kiss.

“That’s it,” he says, moving a hand down to rub maddening circles on your clit. “Just like that. Taking me so well, baby.”

“Satoru—fuck,” you choke out. It’s the only thing you can say when he’s fucking you like this. 

His pace quickens and he groans, nuzzling into your neck, biting down so hard that there’s no chance it won’t leave a mark. Something you’ll worry about tomorrow, but you lean into now. 

He feels so goddamn good inside of you. His hips thrusting into you almost brutally, stealing away your air, one of his hands planted at your side and the other between your legs. 

It has warmth coiling in your gut, building more and more as his movements start to grow faster, his breathing starts to sound labored, his noises start to become louder.

 Your back is starting to arch—the pleasure grows blinding at the edges, clouding your vision over and parting your lips, making your thighs shake as you try to spread even wider for him.

“Satoru,” you gasp, cock-drunk and barely there. You’d meant to say more, but you can't remember what.

“God, yes. Come on my fucking cock,” Satoru pants, and that’s all you need. 

It’s the strongest one yet. You clench around him and he immediately makes a strangled noise in response, fucking even harder into you as wave after wave of ecstasy washes over you. 

You can't breathe. Satoru hasn't stopped: not his hips, and not his thumb on your clit. Your lips are parted in a silent moan, and it’s so fucking good that you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to see or speak or even move after this.

Then, finally, it ends and you float back into your body piece by piece, limp and breathing jaggedly.

When you come down, you find your nails digging into Gojo’s back. He’s close. He has to be, with the noises he’s making, with the way his thrusts are erratic.

You wrap a leg around his waist and urge him deeper, and he shudders, leaning in to kiss you. He’s noisy—so fucking noisy, even with your mouth to muffle him, but you're too far gone at this point to care if any of your neighbors hear (or have been hearing, really.)

When the kiss finishes, you lean up to bite at his neck, licking over the mark you made, and his hips stutter for a moment. 

“Oh, fuck, I’m—” he says, and then he's cumming inside you.

You watch him shamelessly, hungrily, memorizing how his face scrunches in pleasure and the way he’s mumbling your name like a mantra, over and over.

Then he kisses you again, and you start memorizing the way Satoru kisses when he’s barely there instead. It’s less controlled. He’s licking into your mouth and shuddering, his hips rocking into you until it’s over and he finally goes still, burying his face in the junction between your shoulders and neck and breathing heavily.

You find your hands sliding into his hair and playing with the soft strands of it. Your nails scrape lightly against his scalp, and he groans into your skin as his body goes slack.

The two of you stay like that for a while. His breathing slows. He’s warm and heavy, and the feeling of him on top of you is making you sleepy—you’re halfway to drifting off when he starts laughing. It’s quiet, but you feel the tickle of it against your throat, the curl of his smile. You’re half annoyed and half endeared.

“Something funny?” you ask.

He hums, pressing feather-light kisses up your neck. Then he pulls out of you, murmuring a soft sorry when you wince before he sits up on his heels and grins at you. 

“I was just thinking about earlier. You know, how you said you couldn’t come. That was, what, three times? Four?”

Your cheeks go hot. “Shut up, Satoru,” you tell him, tossing a nearby pillow at him. 

He catches it easily, fluffing it up and placing it on your stomach before he crosses his arms over it and rests his chin on his hands. “Not bad for a first try,” he says, mostly to himself. “Next time, I could get you to eight for sure. Maybe even ten.”

Next time? you think, suddenly feeling lightheaded. Ten!?

His grin widens. “Guess we can find out in the morning,” he tells you, sitting up again. “You don’t have any plans, right?”

You do. An important meeting with the higher ups before noon.

“I have a—” you start, but the way his brows rise immediately shuts you up. Screw the higher ups. “No,” you tell him. “I don’t have anything.”

“That’s what I thought,” he says, throwing one of your plushies at the wall. Somehow, it hits the light switch perfectly, and the two of you are left in the dark. You can see the faint glow of his eyes but nothing else.

You hear the pillow being put at your side again, his contented sigh as he stretches out on the bed, laying on his stomach. “Good night,” he says.

You swallow hard, hardly daring to believe that this is actually happening. “Good night.”

You’d been so close to sleep just moments ago, but now you’re wide away. The glow of Satoru’s eyes is gone—he really must be intending to sleep. 

Here. In your bed. 

The second you start thinking more about that is the second when everything falls apart, so you don’t. You force your eyes to shut. You can still hear him breathing. You hone in on the sound: soft, slow and even, and after a while the stillness of the room finally starts to take over you. 

Your thoughts grow thick, like syrup. Your body goes heavy. Everything fades away.

You wake to golden light streaming in from the windows, and a pair of very warm arms wrapped around you. 

The memories of last night hit you all at once (in vivid detail) and you instantly go tense, sucking in a slow breath. Honestly, part of you thought it might be fake. That you walked home from Shoko’s alone and fell into your bed, and dreamed it all up. But the feeling of him pressed against you is unmistakable.

Satoru Gojo is in your bed. He’s—he’s fucking cuddling you right now, and you can’t even tell if he’s awake or asleep.

Your answer comes when you adjust yourself a little and he stirs, the pillow you’re on shifting as he lifts his head. You hear him yawn, feel his grip loosen a hair around you. You don’t say a thing. 

Will he snatch his arms away, now that he’s aware of what he’s doing? Will he change his mind about what he said last night, call it all a joke and leave?

But he just buries his face in the crook of your shoulder, kissing the skin. The tender, unexpected touch makes you shudder.

“Morning,” he mumbles.

“Morning,” you reply, letting out a soft gasp when one of his hands trails downward, rubbing slow circles on your thigh.

“Well?” he asks, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “Ready to get started?”

[seresinhangmanjake]

Fluff for Feyd, reader tells him that she’s proud of him and it’s the first time someone’s said that to him genuinely 🩵

Feyd-Rautha x reader

All He Knew

Summary: Feyd deals with the emotional aftermath of protecting you from his uncle.

Notes/Warnings: mention of past abuse, mention of death, and vulnerability. It's fluffy-ish and angsty-ish, and slightly different, but I still kept in the main idea. Hopefully you still like it :)

Words: 1150

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

You knew the second your husband’s blade went through the Baron’s neck that his whole world would change. Everything inside of him would disconnect. The pieces of his inner self would scatter chaotically, and he would no longer know who to be. You knew because of the power his uncle held over him for the majority of his life. 

After Feyd killed his mother, the Baron was all he had. And how do you go from having the fullness of an overbearing presence on your shoulders—miserable as it was—to nothing? By killing the Baron, Feyd excised a part of himself, as if some creature had sauntered up to his side and taken a big bite out of his body. And now there’s a chunk missing that you fear cannot be filled, even by you. 

He cries when he thinks you’re asleep. And though you continue to feign unconsciousness as you roll over and drape your arm over his waist, it’s not always enough to stop the tears. Part of you knew it wouldn’t be, but you still hoped. You hoped that having you beside him would remind him why he did what he did. 

The Baron had ordered your execution because you were taking too long to provide an heir, and as you were dragged in front of the old man to answer for your ‘crime’, Feyd was nowhere near to protect you. The Baron was smart—he took you from the comfort of your bed in the early morning as your husband was training for another fight in the arena. The plan was simple, and Feyd wouldn’t know about your fate until it was too late. He wouldn’t be able to save you. 

But he did, somehow. Your best guess is that Feyd has a mole, or many, throughout the Harkonnen fortress to relay everyone’s movements, because Feyd was rushing into the room and thrusting his blade into squishy flesh just as the order to end your life was leaving the Baron’s lips. And in those quick seconds, your husband was changed. 

You don’t know how to bring him back to you. At least, you didn’t. You wrestled with it for days until it dawned on you that what he might need is not necessarily your touch or the reminder that he still has a wife, but instead, the words he deserves to hear. 

—

“Feyd, I’m proud of you.”

You’ve been watching him all morning, standing aside, not wanting to interrupt his process of slowly nipping away at a training dummy with his knife. There are holes of all sorts in the torso, both deep and shallow, and slashes across the inanimate face. It has lost both its legs. One arm hangs on by what would be a thin cord of skin were it human. When your words reach him from the other side of the room, he pauses mid-swing. 

“You did a hard thing,” you continue as his arm drops to his side and he straightens his stance from a fighters position. “You did a painful thing.”

His adam’s apple bobs. He sighs and stares down at the blade, the sharp point digging into his index finger as he twirls it. He has yet to look at you in the hour you’ve been here, and with the unpredictability of your husband, you don’t know what he’s going to do next. But you wait, patiently, because that is what you can do for him. 

“I wouldn’t let him take you from me,” he finally says. The blade stabs into the gut of the dummy. “He’s damaged me enough.”

That’s all he gives you. Your heart shatters for him and for the walls he’s been building between you since he killed his uncle; walls that took you ages to tear down after you married him. You’d done so well at getting him to trust and love you, and you hate to watch the bricks stacking as the minutes pass. 

“Since when are you proud when I kill?” he asks. 

And it’s a fair question. You’ve never been a fan of the death that wreaks through the halls of the Harkonnen fortress. You’ve never enjoyed his triumphs in the arena. But this is different, and so you must handle it differently, with a gentle hand and well-chosen words, despite what those words may bring.

He hasn’t often handled well certain topics that you’ve tried to bring up in the past. Risky topics, you learned. Topics that have usually left him drawing away from you until the next morning comes and he can pretend as if you never brought them up.

When you’ve asked about his parents, he gets fidgety; can’t stand still, can’t stop messing with his hands, can’t look you in the eye for more than a quarter of a second. He’s unlike the husband you know. When you’ve asked about his uncle, he’s worse. He’s more than just unlike your husband, he detaches himself from the moment completely. He becomes stiff as a board; a statue with a faraway gaze in his eyes. He offers few words. But those reactions are enough for you to assume the truth of his past without him giving you more than the little he has.

“Feyd, he was abusive,” you say, closing the distance between you. “You ended someone who had power over you for years. Of course I’m proud of you.”

“It’s not as if I did it for me; I did it to save you.”

“You did it,” you tell him. “You did it when you needed to protect us most. You didn’t let him hurt me and force you to accept his justifications for doing so. That's what matters.”

Long beats pass that grow longer with each one. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears so violently that they feel stuffed with cotton. You fear his reaction; a further pulling away from you—something you’re not sure you’ll be able to take. But then he drops the knife to the floor, turns to you, and tucks his head into the space where your neck meets your shoulder. 

His arms slowly snake around your waist and squeeze you tight, and you’re struggling to breathe properly, but you don’t care because the half-built brick wall just tumbled down. He needs you. 

His exhales shakily graze over your collarbone. A droplet forges a path down your chest, disappearing into your cleavage and leaving a chilled trail in its wake. You raise your hand to the back of his head and hold him against you, letting more droplets trickle down your body, letting your skin muffle sobs.

“I’m sorry it had to be like this,” you whisper.

He inhales, breathing you in, and then says, “There’s not a life where I wouldn’t have done it for you.”

“I know,” you tell him. 

“It shouldn’t hurt.”

“It’s allowed to hurt,” you say. “He’s all you knew.”

[lowkeychenle]

Like We Just Met [ZCL] (M)

Description: Everything else about the day is completely normal when Chenle realizes he wants to marry you. It hits him like a tidal wave, and he's itching to tell you just how much he wants to love you forever.

Genre: Fluff (literally SO MUCH FLUFF we love Chenle in this house go away if you don't) // Smut

Content Warnings: Explicit unprotected sex (it's actually sweet this time am I feeling okay), talks about marriage etc etc. Nothing really dark or upsetting in here.

Word Count: 11,292 (y'all I have no idea how this happened...)

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x Reader (feat. the rest of the Dreamies)

ISTJ 7Dream Series Masterlist

Juliet's Masterlist | Requests/Tell me what you think of this plz <3

Tag List (open for ISTJ 7Dream Series): @kunvibing

Author's Note: Lowkey? This was so fun because it's from Chenle's POV...or it's supposed to be haha. This is probably my favorite fic I've ever written catch me crying in the corner...also this gif don't mind the real tears in my eyes

Nobody questioned Renjun when he said he’d invited his friend to dance practice. They brought friends in every now and then, so it wasn’t anything new. Chenle was having a bit of an off day. He kept screwing up the choreography (that he’d done seven hundred times probably in the past week alone) and even accidentally elbowed Jaemin.

Renjun’s friend had yet to show up. Chenle was beyond frustrated with the way things were going, so he let everyone know he was taking a break. He grabbed his water bottle and stomped out of the practice room.

He ended up a bit down the hallway, resting his back on the wall with his eyes closed. All he needed was a break. That had to be it.

“Are you okay?” a soft voice asked.

When he looked at you, he recoiled a bit. He’d never seen you before—he’d definitely remember—but something about you felt familiar. Like a warm aura surrounded you and infiltrated him in the best ways.

“You’re Chenle, right?” You tilted your head at him. “I’m Renjun’s friend, (Y/N). I was supposed to watch practice, but I got lost. This building is pretty big.”

“Yeah, I’m Chenle.” He blinks at you a couple more times. “Um, we’re always in the same practice room. I’ll take you over there.”

“Actually, is there a place to get some water? I forgot mine at home.” You scratched the top of your head and scrunched up your nose. “It was really hot outside.”

“It’s on the way.” He gestured down the hall with his head.

You followed him without hesitation. He was acutely aware of every step you took, of how there was only a few feet between the two of you. Even though he had no clue what to say to you, you didn’t mind walking along in silence. It was unlike him to be shy. Next to impossible for him to be starstruck.

“How long have you known Renjun for?” he asked. And why the hell had you not come around sooner?

“Oh.” You took a deep breath and pursed your lips in thought as Chenle stopped to grab you a water bottle from the kitchen. “Four years now? Five? His family knows mine, so when I came back here, his parents told him he had to help me find my way around.”

“Well, today’s pretty laid back,” Chenle explains. “We’ll probably practice for another hour or two and then go home. We’ve been at it all day.”

You hum in response, opening the cap and taking a sip. “Thank you for this. Sorry to keep you from practice.”

“Don’t be. I’m ready to get the hell out of here.” Chenle chuckles, gaze drinking you in when you’re distracted by your water. “And…they can be a little…much at first. But they’re all great people, so you’ll be fine.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m nervous.” You narrowed your eyes at him playfully.

He bit back a smile, pressing his lips into a thin line instead. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Renjun has given me plenty of warnings,” you tell him.

He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t taken you to the practice room yet. The two of you stood in the kitchen, but he knew the second you were with everyone else, the conversation was over. He didn’t want to stop talking to you, and that odd feeling of warmth settled into his chest.

“Like what?” Chenle raised his eyebrows.

“He said you’re cranky and mean.” You smiled at him, and he swore he was almost knocked off his feet. There was something about you that drew him in.

Chenle made a mental note to scold Renjun later, but he’s not necessarily wrong…he was cranky until he saw you.

“Well, in that case, what he said about everyone else is probably accurate, too.”

“You don’t look cranky,” you interjected. “You’re not mean either. Mean people don’t get strangers water bottles.”

“I’m mean to Renjun. And Jisung.”

“They’re your friends. You get a pass for your friends.” You slid one of your hands into the back pocket of your jeans, rocking on the balls of your feet as silence befell the room.

“They’re waiting for me,” Chenle says. “We should go.”

You nodded in agreement and followed him. He sulked a bit when the other members were introduced to you. They were all nice—because they always were—but when it came time to get back to practice, he found himself gravitating toward you several times.

Nearly every time he looked at you, you were already looking at him, too. Maybe it wasn’t just him that felt the weird tug. He hoped it wasn’t.

After they wrapped everything up, Chenle sat against the back wall, feeling so heavy as if he could fall asleep right there. He was exhausted.

Jaemin, Jeno, Donghyuck, and Mark were already on their way out the door, leaving Jisung to slump next to Chenle and Renjun to talk with you. Jisung noted how he was watching you, but he didn’t say anything right away. He drank his water and stayed quiet.

You said something to Renjun, who smiled at you and nodded. He headed for the door and waited for you outside. When Chenle realized you were coming over to him, he shot a worried glance over at Jisung.

“Would you look at that?” Jisung cleared his throat. “Time for me to go.”

Before Chenle could even grab him, Jisung was halfway to the door. Once you were in front of him, you sat down and crossed your legs.

“You did really well today.”

He chuckled. “I think that’s the worst I’ve done this comeback season.”

“Then you’re in pretty good shape.” You shrugged, picking at the seam of your jeans. “I wanted to thank you. For helping me earlier.”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” he said. “You’re Renjun’s friend. Of course, I’d help you.”

“Right.” You brushed your hair over your shoulder and prepared to stand up. “I should go—”

“Will you be coming back?” The question shot out of his mouth, sending a blush to his cheeks in response.

“I’m not sure,” you told him. “That’s up to Renjun I guess. It was really cool to see how passionate you guys are.”

“Let me give you my number.” Chenle grabbed his phone from his pocket. “Um, just in case you get lost again. And need help finding the room.” He cringed at himself, hoping he wasn’t going to get rejected.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You gave him the tiniest smile, but it made his heart flutter anyway.

He handed it to you with the contact app open. You didn’t even hesitate to type in your name and number. After, you sent yourself a text, and Chenle heard it ring in your back pocket. You gave it back to him, grinned, and left him sitting there in shock.

He couldn’t choose between staring at you as you left and looking down at your contact open on his screen. His stomach twisted with nerves, but the second he saw the smiley face emoji you’d put next to your name, he already knew.

You were going to be someone to him.

Mark drops something in the kitchen, snapping Chenle out of it. He looks at you, and you smile back at him. With you pressed into his side and your legs over his lap, he can’t help but grin right back.

His hand rests on your thigh, thumb sliding gently back and forth as he presses a kiss to your temple. He’d never get used to this.

After returning from the kitchen, Mark allows the game to resume. His nose scrunches as he glances between you and Chenle. “That’s a weird ass question.”

“Not weird.” Chenle shakes his head. “Critical thinking, Mark, you should try it.”

“Oh, be nice.” You shove his shoulder.

For a while now, Chenle has felt his feelings growing more than he thought possible. He’s already in love with you (thankfully, since you’ve been together almost a year now), but something about you lately has him on a whole other level. Even then, he’s not sure what it is. He decides he’ll ride it out for a while and see where it takes him.

“Why would you ask your girlfriend what year she’d take a time machine back to? Shouldn’t she be like…happiest now?” Mark asks, sipping on whatever mixed drink he’d prepared in Chenle’s kitchen.

“You’d think.” Chenle snorts, leaning back against the couch and throwing his arm around you.

“He asks me questions like this all the time,” you tell Mark. When you steal a glance at your boyfriend, his breath catches in his chest.

What the hell is going on with him lately? He can’t concentrate around you (even more than usual) and every tiny thing you do has his heart hammering against his ribcage. Soon enough, he’s sure you’ll both hear the bones crack.

“Has anyone, by chance, ever told you two that you’re gross?” Mark chuckles to himself and leans back in the recliner. “Some of us are single and lonely, you know.”

“Some of us will never be that again,” Chenle shoots back.

“Oh, you two are the worst.” Your laugh echoes pleasantly in his ears, and he subconsciously leans closer to you.

“I am curious what your answer is, though,” Mark interjects. “Since Chenle’s so sure.”

Chenle takes a sip of his own drink, nearly cringing at the bitter taste dragging down his throat. He’s not much of a drinker—social at best. But he can still appreciate the buzz and the hazy happiness that comes with it. You take his hand that dangles over your shoulder, twirling the friendship ring wrapped around his middle finger. The action is so, so simple, yet it makes his stomach turn.

If he doesn’t figure out what the hell’s going on with him soon, he’s gonna have to separate himself from you.

“Well, you’re right.” You shrug, shuffling closer to Chenle. “This part of my life has definitely been the best. But if I could go back to any time, it would probably be when we met. You only get to meet Zhong Chenle once in your life, dude. I’d do it over and over again if I could. The second I saw him, I knew he would be important to me.”

Chenle thinks back to the moment he first saw you. The way he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you like an actual child or the way he took in every detail of you to store in his mind forever—just in case he never got to speak to you again. He pauses, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he analyzes your answer.

Mark groans. “That doesn’t count! That was last year.”

Grabbing the pillow next to him, Chenle throws it at his friend. “Leave her alone, it was a good answer.”

But when he contemplates that thought, he’s not sure he understands what you mean. His ears burn, the tips of them turning red as he recalls how embarrassingly nervous he was around you all the time. How awkward all of your firsts together were. Everything now is so much better than back then.

Not to mention he’s looked at you the same way since that first night. His feelings for you have grown, sure, but those butterflies he used to get still torment him just about every time he sees you smile.

“Why?” Chenle finally asks.

“You were so cute,” you hum, shifting closer to him. “Everything made you nervous. You almost keeled over in embarrassment when you asked to hold my hand.”

Mark laughs, and Chenle sends a glare his way. No part of that is even anywhere near funny.

“Okay, it's your turn.” Mark gestures at you.

Chenle resists the urge to reach over and touch your face. Usually, he’s so much better about being so clingy in front of his friends and, while he would prefer Mark not seeing this side of him, he couldn’t care less when his gaze is locked with yours.

“Cool.” You nod, taking a sip of your drink. “Both of you. Hypothetical situation. Let’s say you’re drunk. You walk into a room and everyone you’ve ever loved is in there. Like…loved. Who are you going to?”

“Dude.” Mark’s jaw drops. “That’s such a shitty question for me.”

“You’ll live,” Chenle replies. “Just romantic love?”

“All of it. Platonic, romantic, family.” You purse your lips in thought.

Chenle doesn’t have to think about it. Not really. He’d rather get struck by lightning and then hit by a bus right after before admitting that so easily in front of Mark. In this case, it’s always been you. From the second you spoke to him for the first time, he was irrevocably yours. 

“You.” Chenle watches your eyebrows raise.

“Be serious,” you say. “Your parents are included in that.”

“I’m serious. You.” Chenle chuckles.

You give him a pointed look, but that’s when Mark cuts in.

“No, he’s for real. Like…that legitimately happened.” Mark leans forward, elbows digging into his thighs as he rests his head in his palms. “Do you guys not remember?”

“What are you talking about?” you ask him, frowning.

Chenle remembers. Barely, and it’s a bit foggy, but it comes back like a baseball bat upside the head as Mark starts telling the story.

Chenle’s birthday party last year. The night was barely halfway through and he was drunk enough to be stumbling over his feet. He’d heard you were coming, but he had yet to see you. Even when every other feeling was numbed by the tingling sensation the alcohol left behind, his craving to see you was all that remained. 

Mark walked next to him, having a full conversation with himself since Chenle was so fog-brained. As much as he loved Mark, there was only one person he wanted to see. Everyone he knew and loved was here—his parents, the rest of his group, and Jisung had somehow forgotten to uninvite Chenle’s ex.

He only ever dated one person before you, but he wasn’t sure he ever loved her. Regardless, there she was. Even with her standing across the room from him, he kept waiting like a lost puppy.

When you walked in, he swore the whole world stopped around him. Everyone but you was moving in slow motion before they eventually faded into nothing, darkness that was emphasized by the light you were. His breath caught in his throat, and he stopped walking.

Chenle couldn’t form a coherent thought while he stared at you, drunken stupor making it so much easier to forget the embarrassment. Mark watched him curiously as Chenle made his way over to you. He refused to waste any more time when he knew you were the one he wanted to talk to.

You had always been more confident around him than he was around you. Your face lit up when you saw him, wrapping your arms around him. He secured you in his grasp, breathing in the scent of your hair and the perfume you wore.

“Happy birthday.” Your voice is muffled a bit by his T-shirt. “Sorry I’m late, took a bit longer to get ready than I thought it would.”

He knew he should’ve let you go. People were starting to notice the way he was clinging to you, and not even being drunk could excuse that behavior. He was about ready to tell everyone except you to leave. Nothing else mattered. If he could spend his birthday with you, it would be the best one yet.

It’d been two months since Renjun had introduced you to the rest of them. Which means, he’s only known of your existence for two months, and you already command so much of his brain matter that he can’t think of anyone but you. Great.

He finally (reluctantly) let you go and led you over to the rest of the group. Nobody said anything when he made Mark scoot over so you could sit next to him. Nobody questioned it. His parents would ask him about it later, but until then, there was no reason for him to worry. After all, his crush on you was the most obvious thing in the world, so it was only a matter of time before you found out about it.

By the end of the night, he hadn’t spent enough time with you. People were starting to shuffle out, but you stayed, chatting with Renjun until only four remained. Chenle’s parents had gone to bed long ago. You were almost caught up to him on drinks, your laughs longer and your movements slower.

Under any other circumstances, he wouldn’t have been as brave as to walk up to you and ask you to stay the night. He didn’t mean it in a suggestive way, either. He just didn’t want you to leave yet.

“Chenle,” Renjun scolds, swatting his shoulder. “You can’t ask something like that so casually.”

“You want me to stay here? With you?” Your voice was higher than normal. Chenle accredited it to the alcohol raging in your system.

“I like when you’re here.” Chenle nodded. “You make everything calm.”

Renjun scrunched up his face, slamming his forehead into his palm. “(Y/N), you should probably go home—”

“No, it’s okay.” You brushed him off. “I’m okay with staying.”

Oh, he was in love with you. There was no other explanation for the way his heart skipped a beat when those words came out of your mouth.

Chenle doesn’t remember the rest of that night, but he does recall waking up next to you in the morning and freaking out. Alcohol made him brave, but it didn’t save him from the red-hot embarrassment of the next day.

“I didn’t even realize…” you trailed off, a small smile forming on your face. “You picked me.”

“I’ll always pick you,” Chenle responds easily, like second nature.

Mark decides it’s time for him to leave, but Chenle’s mind is still reeling with memories. With all of the firsts you said you wished you could relive. But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t figure out what the fuck this feeling is. As the two of you climb into bed, he’s so distracted, he can’t fall asleep, even with you curled into his chest.

“(Y/N),” Chenle groaned when he saw you in the practice room mirror. “You gotta stop showing up here if you don’t want me to fall in love with you.”

It was a joke. Sort of.

“Right, and let you forget to eat? I think not.” You fought back every time, unphased by the way he so casually admitted he’s starting to fall for you.

At least, that was his idea of admitting it.

You walked over with the bags in your hand, sitting down on the practice room floor next to him. 

“I haven’t even been here that long,” Chenle defended himself. “I would’ve eaten after I left.”

You unloaded the contents, opening boxes. “I can go if that’s what you want.”

“Not what I said.” For some reason, he felt a sudden burst of courage. He’s known you for four months at this point, and something about today felt…right. “I was serious, you know.”

“About what?” You grabbed the drinks from the carrier.

“You.”

“What?” You recoiled, looking at him in confusion.

He contemplated telling you to forget it. That it didn’t matter, and thank you for the food instead. If you didn’t feel the same way for him, he’d be devastated. And then you’d leave him for good and take all the food with you. He was starving.

“If you keep doing nice things for me, I’m gonna fall for you.” As if he hasn’t already.

You paused, but Chenle didn’t miss the blush on your face. Clearing your throat, you looked away from him and took a deep breath. His fists clenched as he awaited your rejection, but the longer the silence stretched, the more he felt you might want him to.

“Don’t say things like that if you don’t mean it,” you finally said and brushed your hair behind your ears. Reaching forward for the food again, you gave Chenle a shocked look when he grabbed your wrist.

“You’re right. I’m not going to fall for you. I already did.”

Your jaw dropped, eyes widening as his words settled in the air around both of you. With his heart racing, he released your wrist and intertwined your fingers instead.

“I really, really like you.”

“You should really eat your food before it gets cold.” You pulled your hand from his and pushed the box closer to him.

He stared blankly at the wall, noting the sudden chill on his skin that you left behind. A sinking feeling encapsulated his chest, and he knew he ruined everything. You looked like you were ready to run.

“Forget I said anything,” he told you. “I’m sorry if that was weird.”

“Eat,” you commanded again. “I’m not talking about this with you until I know you’ve eaten. If you don’t, we’ll go off on a tangent and you’ll be starving all night.”

“Does that mean you—”

“Yes, Chenle.” You interrupted him. “Yes, I really, really like you too, which is why I want to make sure you eat.”

At that moment, Chenle realized that if he walked outside and randomly dropped dead, he’d be okay with it now that he’s gotten that confession out of you. There wasn’t a damn thing that could top that. Everything else in life would be subpar to today, so there was no point in trying.

You and Chenle ate in silence. He kept stealing glances at you, catching you doing the same to him. If all he had to do in order to get you to talk about your feelings with him was eat, he’d do it, albeit probably a bit too fast for his own good.

Chenle runs his fingers through his hair, his thumb tracing gentle shapes against the bare skin of your arm. These memories have no business popping up in the middle of the night. He has practice tomorrow. He’ll be so off his game, the other members will want to kill him.

Usually, he has no problem falling asleep, especially with you right beside him. Over the past year, you’ve probably spent more nights with him than you have at your own place. He teases you for it all the time, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Closing his eyes, he listens to the soft sounds of your breathing and allows himself to feel the way your body slots with his so easily. Everything about you is perfect. About the two of you together. He would toss and turn, but no way is he going to disturb you. Even if he can’t sleep, he’d never screw up your schedule on purpose.

“It’s so pretty.” You were in awe, staring at the sunset from Chenle’s backyard. He’d set up a picnic date for the two of you, and afterward, you were watching the sun fade below the treeline while lying on top of a red blanket.

His fingers were intertwined with yours, something that had become so normal for you. Two weeks since his confession, and it was the second date he planned. He wondered, obsessed over, even, what your thought process was on all of this. Were you happy? Did he make you happy?

He wanted to kiss you when he confessed to you. And while he came close to it on your first date, he decided against it. It had to be perfect. Nothing was good enough for you in his mind, especially when all he wanted was to make sure you knew just how he felt about you.

How was he supposed to tell you that?

He’d already said he fell for you, but that didn’t begin to cover it. Not really. You made him want to put in effort, made him crave your happiness like it was the very oxygen he breathed. At the same time, he didn’t want you to think he didn’t want to kiss you. Hell, he’d already dreamed of it, for fuck’s sake, so that definitely wasn’t the issue.

Lost in thought, he’s only snapped out of it by the way you rolled over, lying on your stomach so you can get a good look at his face. You rested your head on your right palm, your left finding his bicep.

“You’re so perfect,” he hummed, twirling your hair with his fingers. “Could look at you forever.”

“Some people might have an issue with that.” You laughed.

“We’re the only ones that matter,” he responded.

Your smile slowly faded, a look of longing replacing it as your gaze softened.

God, he wanted to kiss you. He needed to.

All thoughts of the perfect moment have fled from his brain. Any moment would be perfect as long as it’s you.

He sat up and you leaned forward, and before he knew it, his nose brushed yours. Your eyes fluttered shut in preparation. The heat of the sun sank into his skin. Your perfume wafted from you, intertwining with the air and suffocating him in the best ways. If he could pick one scent to smell for the rest of his life, it would be yours.

Was it normal to have these thoughts so early?

Why was he thinking of that right now? Literally the worst possible time.

“Can I?” he whispered, scared to ruin everything.

“Yes.”

As soon as the word left your mouth, he kissed you. Everything about you was soft, so he shouldn’t have been so surprised to find your lips the same way. His hands shook as he touched your waist.

He was already in big trouble. There wasn’t a single part of him that wanted to stop there. His heart thudded so loud, he was halfway sure you could hear it, too. It felt like sparks flew between you two, absolute electricity coursing through every single one of his veins, heating up his bloodstream and making the thought of pulling away from you the absolute worst case scenario.

You moved away first, gasping for breath. Chenle craved tugging you back to him. His body reacted to you in ways it had never reacted to anyone else. He didn’t want to take it too far, but he sure as hell didn’t want to stop, either.

He couldn’t describe the way you felt. The way you tasted. Everything about you was so heart-achingly perfect, he wanted to experience you all the time. He wanted to rewind time so he could kiss you again for the first time, and he’d do it over and over and over again.

Something about first kisses set him on fire. He was absolutely sure he’d kiss you more. In fact, he was seconds away from it. But the adrenaline coming from the very first brush of your lips on his wasn’t something he’d ever be able to recreate.

“Again.” You leaned in once more.

He met you in the middle eagerly, hand finding the back of your head before he turned you so you were lying on your back. Half of his weight pressed against you, but he did his best to keep himself lifted up so you weren’t uncomfortable.

Unforgettable heat swarmed him, the sun caressing his skin as your fingers gently traced down the back of his neck. Goosebumps formed, but he could hardly pay attention to them. The entire world was gone, and you were everything, the only person remaining in a sea of nothingness. He wanted you. Needed you.

This was technically your second kiss, but in his mind, it was still the first since they happened almost at the same time. He hadn’t stopped to take a breath in much too long, but he’d rather suffocate than separate from you.

He stopped when your breath hitched, completely lost in the sound. When he wasn’t focusing on your mouth anymore, he realized why—his hand had somehow found its way to your upper thigh. His face burned as he removed it.

“I didn’t…” he trailed off, scanning over your face for any hint of what you were feeling. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

You chuckled at him, pushing his shoulder. “You wish that excuse would work on me.”

The sky faded into a beautiful lilac color, the kind that only appeared when the sun was barely peeking over the horizon. Clouds drifted effortlessly, stars beginning to shine.

“Should we go inside?” Chenle asked. “It’ll get cold without the sun.”

Whenever he looked at you, he knew you were different. He couldn’t place how, but nobody else had ever made him feel the way you do. Like his heart was going to burst out of his chest while simultaneously stopping and also skipping every other beat. He didn’t even know how he was alive anymore.

In the last two weeks since his confession, the boys had told him how much happier he was. How he was striving with more effort lately and trying his best at any given moment of the day. You were his motivation. You made him want to be the absolute best he could be, and even as new as the relationship was, he’d already known you for months—he was nervous about you deciding you wanted something else. Someone who wasn’t him.

The moment before replayed in his head, and he heard that breath hitch on repeat while he awaited your answer. He did his best to stop thinking about it, but nothing worked. All he wanted to do was kiss you again, over and over and over until the literal end of time.

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Let’s go inside.”

His cheeks redden just thinking of that memory. The first time he ever kissed you, and he royally fucked up because his hand didn’t know how to stay put. At this point, it’s clear he’s not going to be able to fall asleep. He hates the idea of leaving you in bed alone, but he’s only going to disturb you if he doesn’t plan on sleeping.

Sliding away from you carefully, he quietly gets up and heads into the kitchen. He runs his fingers through his hair. His hands down his face. He must be sentimental today, because he can’t stop thinking about you for the life of him. Every memory from the last year pokes at his head, and he has no clue how to handle it.

Patting his cheeks, he heads over to the fridge to grab a water bottle. Photos of the two of you are framed up on the wall. There’s one picture in particular he always says is his favorite, but he refuses to tell you why.

The two of you were sitting on the floor, and you had the cutest glare on your face. He sees the adoration gleaming in your gaze even though you look about ready to strangle him. In your defense, you probably were. He lets out a tiny laugh, tracing over the frame. 

There’s even one with Chenle between you and Jisung, and a group picture with you and the boys. Chenle loves his friends dearly, and the way they’ve welcomed you with open arms says a lot about both your relationship with them and his potential future with you. Everyone in his life loves you. You’re the one they call when Chenle’s upset or if he’s off his game, and no matter when or where this is happening, you show up to make him feel better.

He could be having the worst day of his entire existence, and a simple ‘I love you’ passing from your lips has him forgetting everything shitty about the world. Looking back at the pictures, he’s drawn back into memory.

He heard the birds outside his window before he saw the gleaming sun. His eyes fluttered open while he groaned quietly at the sudden change of brightness. Your body was like a fireball, your skin searing hot against his, but it did little to bother him. His groan turned into a sigh of content, and he wrapped his arms around you tighter. Fingertips trailing down your bare spine, he kissed your forehead.

Three months together, and every night spent with you made him fall deeper in love. He’d never known peace as he did at that moment. No interruptions, just the two of you basking in each other’s embrace.

He could’ve stayed like that forever—he wanted to, but glancing at the clock, he realized how close it was to noon. Jaemin would be there soon, and the last thing Chenle needed was him in his house when you were naked in his bed.

He reluctantly got up, dressing himself before grabbing some clothes for you. You have a drawer, multiple, actually, but he picked his own T-shirt for you to wear. When he made it over to you, you were stirring.

“You got up.” You pouted at him, staring at him through half-closed eyes. “And you have clothes on.”

Chenle laughed. “Sorry, love. Jaemin will be here soon.”

“It’s that late?” you asked.

Chenle nodded, setting the clothes down next to you. He kissed you softly, gently, a kiss so barely there it left you leaning forward to try to continue it. Cupping your cheek, he brushed his thumb along your skin.

You didn’t need help getting dressed, but he did it anyway. He loved the way you looked in his T-shirts, and even though it’s long enough to cover you, no way he’d risk it. Once you were finished, the two of you got ready for the day. You brushed your teeth together, he watched you brush your hair, and by the time you’re done, Jaemin was walking in the front door.

The three of you sat on the floor around Chenle’s coffee table, playing a game. He can’t remember what the game was anymore, only that you were terrible at it and that he loved winning.

Jaemin teased both of you the whole time, ruffling Chenle’s hair on multiple occasions. As much as he’d love to deny it, Chenle enjoyed that Jaemin liked the two of you together. It was almost like an affirmation, even if he didn’t need one.

Being the professional picture-snapper he was, Jaemin took the picture now hanging up on Chenle’s wall. You, with your arms crossed over your chest and a big pout on your face, and Chenle, smiling widely at you with such adoration in his eyes it should’ve been impossible.

“Lele?” Your soft voice breaks him away from his memory. He turns to you quickly, heart instantly halting in his chest when he sees his shirt on you.

“What are you doing up?” he asks.

“I was gonna ask you that.” You rub your eyes, feet shuffling on the floor as you walk over to him.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he replies and takes you in his arms with ease. “Didn’t want to bug you, sunshine.”

You don’t respond. All you do is bury your head in his chest and breathe him in. He runs his fingers through your hair, kissing the top of your head. With all the lights off, the only illumination is the full moon outside as it casts shadows on the ground. The faint blue makes you that much more ethereal to him.

“You okay?” he whispers.

“Mm,” you hum in response. “This is nice.”

Chenle smiles. “Yeah, it is. Always is.”

After a bit of silence and rocking you gently, an idea sparks. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, finding the playlist he made specifically for when he thinks about you, and sets it on the counter. You stare at him in tired confusion, but when one of his arms wraps around your waist, you catch on.

“What are you doing?” Humor is laced in your voice, but the sweet look on your face tells him his actions are making you happy. That’s his goal, constantly. All he wants is to make you happy.

“Checking something off the bucket list,” he replies, slowly turning you to the soft beat.

“Something’s missing,” you say as he twirls you.

He steals a glance at the way his shirt rides up your legs, showing just a peek of your panties beneath it.

“What?” he asks, pulling you back to him.

“Sing to me.” You place your hand on his chest.

His heart betrays him at that moment. It rages, and he knows you can feel it. Chenle sings in front of thousands of people all the time, but something about you is different. Something about you right now is different.

“What’s going on up in there?” You run your fingers through his hair. “You’ve been all weird today.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he admits. “Everything. From the moment we met up until this…it keeps repeating over and over again.”

“Welcome to my world,” you replied, grasping his shoulders. You massage them gently as you sway along with the music.

The confession from you makes him smile. At least he’s not the only one doing constant circles in his head. He calms a bit, and when a new song plays, he sings to you. Your body immediately relaxes into his, as if every stress you’ve ever had has left you without hesitation.

Chenle loves to sing. He does it all the time, and he only wants to keep getting better. To have someone like you as his partner, someone who supports him endlessly and genuinely loves his voice…it’s unparalleled.

He’s not sure how long the two of you are like this, or how long he’s singing for, but song after song, all he knows is that you’re smiling. You’re looking at him with unmatched adoration in your eyes, pure love. Nobody else has ever looked at him in this way, and he doesn’t want them to.

He wants to stay here with you and watch you love him in ways he’s never been loved before.

He stops. His singing fades out, and he furrows his eyebrows as he finally, finally realizes what’s been happening to him. You tilt your head, able to ask him questions without saying anything. His chest feels like it’s going to burst.

You’re it. 

You’re everything, and he’s going to marry you.

He’s going to spend the rest of his life striving to make sure you love him as much as you do right now, if not more.

It seems like you feel it, too. Your face softens and you reach up to trace along his cheekbone. He leans into your touch, chasing the warmth like it’s the last time he’ll ever feel it.

“I…” He takes a deep breath, shaking his head slowly. “I’m so fucking in love with you.”

“I know.” You grin so wide, Chenle almost thinks it’ll split your face in two.

“Good.” He brushes your hair behind your ear. “I hope I’m doing a good job in showing you that every day.”

You pause, hands trailing down from his cheeks to his shoulders. “I have never once doubted that you love me, Lele. Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“I promise you I’ve never felt better,” he replies. “Just checking in with you.”

“You do so much more than you realize. No matter how busy you are, you text me to tell me you love me or that you’re thinking about me. You practice non-stop with the boys but you still make an effort with me when you could easily use that as an excuse. There is not one thing I could ask for that you don’t already do.” You press a quick kiss to his lips. “I’ll never doubt you.”

“Sometimes I worry,” he admits. “You make me…want to be better. In every way possible. In my career, in my life, with you. And if I’m not being better every day, then I don’t deserve you.”

“Chenle.” You give him a pointed look. “When I think back to the first day we met, I remember how…how you acted from the first time you spoke to me. At the time, I really thought I was crazy, but I knew you’d be someone to me. You didn’t even know me, but you were so kind. And now that we’re here like this, you haven’t changed. There’s no getting better. You’re already the best.”

“How do you do that?” He chuckles, kissing your forehead.

“Do what?”

“Know exactly what to say.”

“That’s my special talent,” you tell him.

“We should get back to bed,” Chenle says, sleep weighing on him. “Meeting the boys tomorrow.”

He grabs his phone from the counter, his heart full and warm as he leads you back to his bedroom. This time, as he’s lying with you pressed to his chest, he’s able to fall into his dreamland.

Despite his lack of sleep, Chenle is full of energy the next day. He wakes up and makes you coffee just the way you like before sitting on the edge of the bed by your sleeping form. When he sets the cup on the nightstand, you stir, turning over to face him.

“You’re gonna be late,” you mumble, even though you have no idea what time it is.

Chenle chuckles, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “I’ll see you in a bit, okay? You can stay here if you want. Wanted to tell you I love you before I left.”

“Love you, too,” you say with a tired smile, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Drink your coffee before it gets cold. I’ll grab dinner for us on my way back.”

Walking away from you feels like someone’s trying to rip his heart out of his chest. You’re an extension of him at this point, and after his sudden realization last night, all he wants to do is spend the day curled up with you.

Luckily for him, his day passes by pretty quickly. He got a lot done today, and he was proud of that. You’d be proud of him, too. He’s itching to get home and tell you everything that happened. Staying true to his word, he picks up your favorite takeout.

He’s going to be honest with you about what was going on with him yesterday. It’s the right thing to do—and in a perfect world, you’ll feel the same way he does. He hasn’t felt this nervous since he admitted his feelings for you. Even though that side of him feels worlds away now, he remembers it like it was yesterday.

But the restaurant isn’t the only stop he makes.

He’s shaking by the time he gets back. Is a year really enough time? It is for him, but what if you think he’s insane?

When he arrives, he’s not expecting what you’ve done at all. The main lights are off, but a dim golden glow from the strips along the wall and the candles illuminate the room enough. He sets the bag down on the table, completely forgetting about the food as he searches for you.

“(Y/N)?”

“You’re earlier than I thought you’d be,” you tell him, walking out of his bedroom while still putting in an earring.

His throat dries. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words could ever justify the way you look right now. You put on a dress, one of his favorites, and he’s in jeans and a T-shirt.

You kiss his cheek. “I figured you deserve something nice to come home to.”

“You’re my something nice.” He wraps his arm around your waist. “Should I change?”

“We’re not going anywhere.” You shake your head. “Just relax and enjoy your gorgeous girlfriend.”

“Oh, I can get on board with that.” He allows you to lead him back to the table.

Once he’s taking the food out of the bag, he keeps stealing glances at you. You put in all this effort for him, and he knows how much work it must’ve been to hang up all these lights. The golden glow looks ethereal against your skin.

“Before we eat, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.” He clears his throat to stop it from collapsing in on itself, but it doesn’t work.

“What’s up?” You set your elbow on the table and rest your head on your palm. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s perfect, actually.” He takes a deep breath, reaching to grab your free hand. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You bite back a laugh.

“You can’t make fun of me for what I’m about to tell you.” He gives you the most serious look he can muster, and you nod.

“I wouldn’t do that,” you reassure him. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I…I want to love you forever.” He gulps. “And when I think of everything we’ve gone through and been through together, I seriously can’t imagine ever trying to have anyone else fill this spot you hold in my life.”

You perk up a bit, gaze staring into his. God, he loves how interested you are in what he has to say. How you’re listening to him so intently. His thumb rubs over your knuckles as he tries to think of the words he wants to use.

“I want to marry you. Call me crazy if you want, tell me you hate the idea, that’s fine, but I had to tell you. We obviously can’t get married now, or probably any time soon because of my contract, but I want you to know that it’s what I want. It’s what’s going to happen if you want it, too.”

You clear your throat and cover your mouth with your hand, eyes welling. Chenle’s heart aches seeing this reaction, knowing you feel as strongly as he does. He reaches into his pocket and puts a small box on the table in front of you.

“It’s not the real thing. Not yet. But I want you to know how serious I am, because if I was able to marry you, I would’ve done it yesterday.” He opens it, revealing a simple band in it. “Subtle enough where people won’t ask questions, but we’ll know.”

“Chenle, are you being serious right now?” You sniffle. “This is a very cruel prank.”

“The guys and I sat down together today to write a song. I think you’ll love it, so when we record it I’m sneaking you a copy. Anyway, we were there for twenty minutes, and words were just flowing out of me. I wrote about you. About how you make me feel, and I think anyone who knows about us will understand that when they listen to the song.”

He pauses to swallow past the lump in his throat.

“I want you. I want to marry you and spend the rest of my life proving to you why I deserve that. Let me put this ring on you, and this can be the start.”

You quickly wipe your face as you nod. He takes your left hand, grabs the ring out of the box, and slips it on your middle finger.

“One day, this will be real.” Chenle catches another one of your tears. “I love you. There is not one thing in this world that could change that.”

His heart pounds in his chest as he watches your reaction. He wants to touch you and kiss you after pouring his thoughts out to you, but he needs to make sure you’re feeling the same way. The last thing he wants to do is overwhelm you.

His palms are sweaty and he can barely sit still. You groan, giving one last aggressive swipe below your eyes before you launch up from your chair and end up in his lap. You bury your head in his neck, squeezing him tighter than you should. He instinctively wraps his arms around your waist, softly chuckling at your outburst.

“You better not change your mind.” Cupping both of his cheeks, you try your best to look angry. “If you do, I’m marrying you anyway.”

His own vision blurs at the sight of you. You love him as much as he loves you, and you want to be with him forever.

You want to be with him forever.

The emotions rioting inside him surprise even him, and he blinks quickly to try and suppress the tears. It’s no use, because as soon as you notice, you start crying again. He groans and drops his head back on the chair, squeezing you closer to him.

“You’ll be the death of me,” Chenle says.

“Kiss me, you idiot.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. His mouth finds yours, both of you falling into each other’s rhythm. Saltiness from your tears lingers on your lips. He weaves his fingers through your hair, but no matter what he does, you’re just not close enough.

Pulling away from you, he rests his forehead on yours. “You should eat, sunshine.”

“You expect me to be able to eat after all of that?” You furrow your eyebrows. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

“You’ll be sad if it gets cold,” he reminds you.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be sad again,” you whisper.

All thoughts escape him. Nothing else exists except for you, wrapped around him like a damn koala bear. He rests his hand on your thigh and lets your words sink deep into him.

Moments like these are hard to explain, he thinks. He’s only like this around you, so lost in his connection with you that he’s got nothing else on his mind. Anything and everything you say to him is tattooed in the darkest ink on his soul, until he’s covered in everything he wants to be for you.

“Promise me you’ll always look at me like that.” You break the silence, running your fingers through his hair and smiling.

“I promise.” He nods, barely realizing how he’s leaning forward.

Your eyes flutter shut as he inches closer. He kisses you softly, almost as if he fears he’ll break you. His fingers splay out across the small of your back and he traces shapes into the soft fabric of your dress. You’re overwhelming. His love for you is, too. So much so, he feels as if he’s going to burst out of his skin. He’s going to wake up and everything will have been a dream, because there’s no way he’d ever done anything in his life to deserve someone like you.

You hum into his mouth, rolling your hips once. His breathing stutters as his first instinct is to lift toward you. At first, he wants to stay like this, you clinging onto him like you’d be lost without him, but when you grind down a second time, he feels a twitch in his pants.

It’s been over a week since the last time he’s been inside you thanks to his schedules. And now you’re on top of him, wearing his favorite dress of yours, and kissing him like you’ll never be able to feel him again after tonight.

He’s tired, but he’s never too tired for you. Brushing your hair away, he leans down to kiss your neck, licking the expanse of your soft skin. Your pulse thunders beneath his tongue, and he has to fight the urge to bite down.

Touching you like this is different when he knows he’ll never lose you. You’re his forever.

His lips press against the sensitive spot below your ear, and the short moan escaping you just about sends him up the wall. When he pulls away to get a good look at you, your eyes are dark, lips already swollen from the way he kissed you.

He tries to catch his breath while he silently asks you if this is what you want. You nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Standing, he lifts you up until your legs are secure around his waist, and he grabs your ass with one hand and the back of your head with the other.

Mouths attached, he doesn’t separate from you until he’s setting you down on his bed. He barely has time to appreciate the candles you lit in here, too, the soft scent of vanilla flooding his senses. You already try to push his T-shirt up, anything to feel his skin on yours. He obliges, pulling it over his head before returning to kissing you like his life depended on it. When your hands find the button on his jeans, he grabs your wrist.

“Patience, baby.” Chenle runs his fingers up and down your thigh. “We have the rest of our lives. Let me take my time with you tonight.”

Just like that, you’re putty in his hands. He smirks at the realization. Sneaking his touch up your leg, the hem of the dress moves to accommodate him. He stops when he feels the lace of your panties.

“Did you dress up for me twice, sunshine?” he hums.

“Always,” you say, shamelessly staring at his lips. “Do you love me, Chenle?”

His whole body vibrated from those words. They made him feel at a frequency he hadn’t quite reached yet, and all he wanted to do was rip that damn dress off.

“More than anything.”

He can’t really say it’s ‘like second nature’ anymore. There’s nothing second about it. This is you. Anything to do with you is first nature, no matter what it is. His world revolves around you, everything he does is based on what you want, and he wouldn’t change that in any way.

“Show me,” you whisper, so intoxicating he almost crumbles to his knees right in front of you.

How embarrassing that all it takes is two words to have him give in to you. He’s straining against his pants now, his cock aching to be free and buried inside you.

“Don’t worry. I will.” He kisses you again, soft and sweet like his hand isn’t so, so close to your dripping, eager core. Heat radiates from you, and all he wants is to be consumed by it.

He drags your panties down your legs, nails gently scratching your skin on the way down. Your chest rises and falls quickly as you try to regain your breath, but he loves the way you’re so desperate for him. The way you want him just as much as he wants you.

He doesn’t want to be patient anymore. Every cell in his body is urging him to connect with yours, but he wants to take care of you. That side of him always wins, otherwise both of you would probably be done already.

His finger dances along your entrance. He inhales sharply as your wetness coats his skin. You move your hips toward him, practically begging him for stimulation. He teasingly nudges your clit, pleasantly surprised by the way your body jolts.

Mouth brushing yours, he takes the second of distraction to slide two fingers inside you. As your lips part to release a moan, he mirrors the action, eyes fluttering shut as he slowly, slowly thrusts his hand.

Your walls squeeze so hard, he curses. He could fuck you a thousand times, and you’d still be as tight as you are right now. His heart goes straight into overdrive, but all the blood in his body is shooting down to his cock. He’s painfully hard, rocking back and forth gently.

He kisses you, lips working against yours in a perfect harmony. Your sounds are his favorite. He loves knowing it’s him making you feel this way, that he has the power to make your knees weak and your pussy throb.

He lets out a moan when he scissors his fingers, trying his best to prepare you. God, you’re so warm and wet and tight, he isn’t sure if he’ll be able to last long tonight. His pace quickens, sounds of your slickness filling the room.

You call out his name, back arching as you grasp desperately at his shoulders. He leans in and kisses your cheek, making sure to press his palm into your clit every time he’s knuckle deep. 

“You’re perfect, baby,” he whispers with his lips against your ear, voice rough. “I love you so much. So fucking much.”

You tense, pussy clamping down hard on his fingers as your hips buck. He swears he can see the pleasure running up your spine in the way you arch and shake. Your nails dig into his shoulders, but he’s not in the right mind to care. Your mouth opens, sounds pouring out as you finish. He loves you all the time, but one of his favorite looks on you is when he watches you orgasm—your face so overcome with pleasure he caused…he would never get enough of it.

He keeps moving until he’s sure you’ve come down from your high. When he brings his fingers up to his mouth to suck your juices off, you watch longingly, the dark look in your gaze enough to have his cock twitching in his pants.

You slide off the bed, forcing him to take a couple steps back. He’s not sure what you’re going to do at first. Your struggle to reach your zipper, and as much as he wants to bend you over with the dress still on, he wants to be gentle with you tonight. He doesn’t get to make love to you often, and that’s all he’s going to do tonight.

Instead of watching you attempt to reach it, he turns you around and pulls you to him until your back is against his chest. His hand is splayed out across your stomach, holding you so you feel how hard he is.

“I’m going crazy,” you mutter, dropping your head back. “I need you so bad.”

He moves your hair out of his way, kissing the base of your neck quickly before he unzips you. Moving slowly on purpose, he lets his finger drag along your spine on the way down. You shiver, pushing yourself back into him.

“I’m gonna make love to you.” He finally lets himself bite down on your shoulder as he nudges the straps down. “For the rest of our lives. Nobody but me.”

“Nobody but you,” you respond, allowing the dress to pool at your feet.

He turns you around, hands immediately finding your ass and squeezing it. Within seconds, he has your bra unclasped and across the room. “So beautiful.”

When your hands find his jeans, he doesn’t stop you this time. You push them down his legs, desperate to have him inside you. Once his jeans are off, you palm him through his boxers, and he needs you so badly, that simple touch almost finishes him off. That would’ve been embarrassing.

He takes off the remaining fabric separating you two before leading you over to the bed. You lie in the middle, and he climbs on top of you. He kisses you passionately, tongue already dancing with yours, both of you more than ready. His cock is so hard, he’s only half convinced he won’t cum as soon as he’s in.

He nudges your clit with his leaking tip, moving down to your entrance to apply just enough pressure before pulling away. You whine, desperate for more.

“Chenle, please.”

His head dips down as he continues teasing you, wrapping his lips around your nipple. You whimper, running your fingers through his hair. Having you so desperate for him makes him want to give you everything you’re asking for, but something makes him wait.

“Please,” you cry out, lifting your hips up. “Need you.”

He’s ready to fall apart from you words alone. Pulling away from your chest, he reaches down to line himself up with you. He watches you closely as he pushes his throbbing cock into your quivering pussy. Your eyes roll back as you arch into him.

Your walls swallow him, velvet clamping down on him. He clenches his jaw as he bottoms out and fists the sheets next to your head.

“So perfect,” he whispers, kissing your jawline.

One of his favorite things about you is how unafraid you are to look at him. Pleasure weighs on your eyelids, and you try your best not to close them, but even like this, you never look away.

He’s fully inside you, his cock seated within your fluttering walls. The last thing he wants to do is overwhelm you, so he gently rocks his hips to help you adjust. He kisses you everywhere he can reach.

“You always take me so well,” he praises you, nipping the base of your neck.

He’ll never get over how perfectly he fits between your legs, like this space was made for him.

“Move,” you tell him, smacking his shoulder.

He lets out a soft chuckle, but lowers his mouth to yours as he starts a steady pace. You squeeze him so tight, it’s like your body doesn’t want to let him out of you. He pulls out until his tip is barely inside, and then pushes back in just as slowly. It wreaks havoc on your body, your wetness squelching every time he moves.

He wants you to feel all of him. Feel the entirety of his cock rubbing your walls with every thrust.

Somehow, it’s hotter this way. A thin sheen of sweat covers his skin as he takes his time with you. Sure, he gets sweaty when he fucks you, but nothing compares to the close intimacy of love making—his chest brushing against yours with every thrust, long, sweet moans filling the otherwise quiet bedroom.

“You sing so pretty,” Chenle mutters, tonguing the sensitive spot below your ear. “You like the way I feel?”

Before he can even process what you’re doing, you wrap your legs around his waist and roll until you’re on top of him. He’s flat on his back, eyes flitting along your body like he hasn’t had a real chance to see it yet.

Candle light illuminates your skin, and the sight makes his cock twitch. He runs his hands along your sides, squeezing your hips.

Chenle likes being in control. He likes guiding you in a way that has you both in shambles by the end, and he truly underestimated how beautiful you’d look on top of him. You lift up, teasing him as slow as he was moving with you, but between the sight and the feeling, he feels an all too-familiar tingling sensation at the base of his length.

It’s too soon for him, so he decides to tug you down, holding you there while his eyes close and his head thuds against the mattress. He doesn’t need to say a word to you.

“Chenle.” You stroke a hand down his chest. “It’s okay. You don’t need to hold back for me.”

“Just…need a second.” He gulps.

When he finally catches his breath, he sits up, chest pressing against yours.

“This was supposed to be about you,” he says, moving back slightly to fit his hand between the two of you. “Showing you my love and everything.”

He finds your clit with his thumb, staring at you intently as your wetness makes it easy for him to rub circles. His other hand still firmly grips your waist, which only allows you to squirm instead of bouncing on him like you crave to do.

“I need to move,” you whimper, grinding down. “Please.”

He nods, loosening his grip on you. You brace yourself on his shoulders, finally taking his cock the way you want it. His nails dig into your thigh while he continues his work on your bud, and it only spurs you on. You move faster, no doubt trying to chase your orgasm.

His moans get louder, matching yours. If his hands weren’t so occupied, he’d want to squeeze your ass or tweak your nipples. Anything to bring you higher. He changes the patterns his thumb rubs, and it’s like a jolt of electricity runs through your body.

You curse, dropping your head on his shoulder as you nod. “Don’t stop, Lele.”

With both of you hanging so close to the edge, he waits until you’re sitting back down on his cock to buck his hips up. He doesn’t want to finish first, but he’s so close, all the warning signs of his impending high are getting far too real.

“Gonna cum,” he tells you, releasing your thigh to grab your ass.

Your walls clamp down on him hard, a long, pleasured sound escaping you as you grind down on him. Back arching, your head falls back. Your orgasm hits both you and Chenle like a freight train, and within seconds, everything inside him explodes, and he’s spilling his cum deep inside you while telling you over and over again that he loves you.

You crumple into his chest. He runs his fingers through your hair, whispering praises to you between head kisses.

“I’m gonna lay you down, sunshine,” he says.

You nod, and he turns you so he can put your back on the mattress. He carefully pulls out of you, putting his boxers back on before going into the bathroom to grab you a towel. This is one of his favorite ways to see you. Your eyes are closed, hands on your cheeks. You look like he’s fucked all the energy out of you, and he loves that he has the capability to do that.

He cleans you up, then grabs a clean pair of panties for you and one of his T-shirts.

“I have an idea,” he says.

“What is it?” You wrap your arms around him.

“You pick whatever movie you want, and I’ll go warm up your dinner?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

You fake a gasp. “Are you saying you’re going to feed me in bed?”

“After all of that, I’d agree to just about anything you want.” He chuckles when you shove his shoulder. Grabbing your hand, he twirls the band on your finger. “Wait here for me?”

When he walks out of the room, he stops at the doorway to watch you excitedly lunge for the remote. It doesn’t take long for him to warm up the food, turn off the lights, and blow out the candles in the kitchen.

The rest of the night is spent with the two of you sitting against the headboard, laughing along to your favorite movie while eating your favorite takeout. So many thoughts have come and gone from Chenle’s brain in the past couple days alone, but he’s more than happy he gets to sit here with you every night for the rest of his life.

He’s lost in your laugh and the way you smile at him and how you make his heart race with the simplest things. None of the other members knew about the ring he bought you, but he’ll tell them soon.

After the food is gone, Chenle cleans it up. There’s still half a movie left, so when he gets back, he pulls the comforter back so you can cuddle up to him for the remainder. Even though the candles have long since been put out, vanilla still clouds the air.

“Love you,” Chenle whispers, kissing your temple.

“Love you, too.” You sigh in content, resting your head on his chest.

He knows that means you’re only seconds from sleep, and he rubs your arm soothingly. The movie continues to play, but neither of you are paying attention anymore—you’re asleep, and Chenle’s thinking about what kind of wedding dress you’ll wear.

[water-to-drink]

Not Even Death Could Make Us Part

(Pairing): Yan!Heizou x gn!reader

(Synopsis): Your boyfriend has come back as a ghost after being murdered, but after he suggested an idea that would bring you two closer it shows his true colors

(Tags/Warnings): MDNI, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT Character and reader’s death, murder attempts, strangulation, angst, mentions of suicide, use of (y/n), (if i missed anything lmk)

(Word Count): 2.3k

(A/N): This has been in the drafts for about a year, so I hope y’all enjoy this

Rain drops repeatedly hitting the white flowers on the casket is the only thing your attention is on, the only reason is that if you brought your attention somewhere else you would be reminded that you’re standing in front of your boyfriend casket

He wasn’t taken by something like illness or a fatal car accident, no he died because the crook he arrested had someone else kill him as either an act of revenge or to make sure he didn’t testify in court

When you first heard of it you wanted it to be a nightmare that you wake up from and see him breathing right besides you, but no matter how much you wanted his to be an awful dream you’re now here at his funeral

It did help that when the news first broke friends and family offered their condolences.

You didn’t want people’s condolences, their condolences won’t bring your boyfriend back!

You hated how they all looked at you with their pitying looks, if you could you would crawl up in the casket with him. But you know you can’t do that so you make the long trek from the cemetery back to the apartment you used to share with Heizou

Opening the door to the apartment that now only you inhabit, you’re immediately greeted with various framed pictures of the two of you. Many of them taken during dates, holidays, and vacations all of them containing his carefree smile, the same smile you fell in love with. Now only it’s staring back at you from a paper with ink on it, serving as a cruel reminder that he’s gone

You take the framed pictures and put the faced down along with taking down the ones on the walls, maybe one day you’ll be able to put them back up, but now it’s too painful to even look at them

After a full week isolating yourself in the empty apartment you decided it’s time for you to go back to work. You already used up your bereavement days, but it’s a good reason to be out of the house and occupy your mind with something other than Heizou, at this point you’re starting to think the isolation and grief is starting to get to you. When you would walk out into the living room you would find the pictures you took down back in their original places, at first you came to the conclusion that you thought of taking them down but didn’t. That wasn’t until you found the pictures back up knowing that you took them down, not to mention you’ve begun to hear a voice

Heizou’s voice

Going back to work might be what’s best for you, maybe interacting with people will be good for your mental health instead of wallowing in your own misery

Your first day back was good everyone made you feel a bit better, they made you laugh and told you the latest gossip you missed while you were gone

It felt like everything was back to normal, but as you made your way to your apartment you knew that you won’t have someone to tell what happened at work. Maybe you can call a friend and talk to them?

Yeah you think you can do that

Opening the door the apartment that now only you inhabit, you’re greeted with the sight of your deceased boyfriend, as if he had never left

Wearing the same carefree smile he always had

This can’t be real. You saw his body at the morgue and at the funeral. This has to be the grief induced hallucination you desperately tried to avoid

“Baby, you can see me!” He, the thing that looks like your dead boyfriend exclaimed cheerfully

You stepped back in disbelief until you fell on your butt, this has to be all in your head. You gotta call someone to come over and to tell you it’s a hallucination

“I know it’s hard for you to process all of this, but you gotta believe that it’s me.” He crouched down and held your hand, void of the warmth you once knew instead replaced with coldness. “I’ve been watching you for weeks thinking I was dead, without a way to comfort you or make myself known to you-”

“No, you’re dead.” You state more to yourself than to the apparition

“I-I know I’m dead, but I’m not a figment of your imagination. Look!” He says as he walks over and lifts up a coffee mug you used this morning

Heizou picks up the mug and walks towards you before setting it in your hand

The mug felt ice cold in the areas he touched and weighed a ton in your hands. Looking up at your boyfriend you felt tears form in your eyes

“Heizou…?!”

“Baby.”

You dropped the mug and leap into his arms only for you to harshly land on the floor. You turned towards your boyfriend who had a horrified expression on his face.

It didn’t matter as long as your boyfriend is back

Living with a ghost isn’t so bad, it’s like having a secret roommate. It’s like everything is back to the way it was before. You two would watch your favorite shows, sang together while cooking dinner, and playing your beloved card games

But there are times where you’re reminded just how different the two of you are. You can’t feel his warmth, every time you reach out to touch him your hand just goes right through him, you have to be mindful not to mention him in front of friends since they can’t see him and you don’t want them to think you’ve lost it. You wouldn’t blame them, the whole concept is crazy even for you

It’s something you have to adjust to

Like you can’t reach over and touch Heizou anymore, no more surprise hugs or good night kisses. However he can touch you only if he concentrates hard enough

It seemed like he caught onto your internal dilemma, it doesn’t surprise you he was a famous detective when he was alive so it’s no use trying to hide anything from him

“(Y/n), is something bothering you. You know you can tell me.” Heizou said as he sat right next to you on the couch

“It’s hard adjusting to...” You replied while gesturing to him, “this. You being a ghost, don’t get me wrong I’m very happy that I get to see you again, but I feel that we’re just too different now. I can’t hold you in my arms like I used to, I have to be careful not to mention you in front of friends or else they’ll think I’m crazy. And sometimes I think so too.” The last part coming out broken in between sobs and tears begin to form in your eyes. “If only there’s a way for things to be how they used to be.”

As tears clouded your vision you missed the expression on Heizou’s face, it was the same expression he would make when he came up an idea

“You love me, right?” He asked as he reached out and wiped away your tears with his cold hands

“Yes, of course.”

“You would do anything for me?”

“Y-yes, Heizou where are you taking this?”

“I just wanted to know before I told you my idea.”

“If I can be with you again like before then yes.”

“Would you die for me?” Your heart stopped and you got up from your place on the couch, effectively getting away from the redhead. “Think about it, this way we can be together. We can finally feel each other’s touch again, we can-”

“Do you know what you’re asking of me? You’re asking me to take my own life for the small chance that I return as a ghost.”

“Yes, but it’s the only way we can-”

“We aren’t taking about this anymore, you got that?” You rubbed your temples to soothe the oncoming headache you feel approaching. “I’m going to bed and don’t come into the bedroom!” You said as you stormed into the room that was noticeably much warmer than the living room

The next day you went to work, last night’s argument replaying in the back of your mind, you even skipped making yourself some breakfast instead opting to buy something cheap on the way to work

You were so preoccupied with your task you didn’t notice your friend was standing next to you until she tapped your shoulder

“(Y/n) are you feeling okay by any chance?” Ganyu asked, her voice laced with concern

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. Why did you ask?”

“Today you came in a much more sour mood then normal and you look a bit unwell.”

“I’m fine, I just haven’t been eating well since the funeral.” You lied

“Do you want to come over to my place, I can make you a nice nutritious meal.”

“I don’t know if I can make it. I’m not feeling all that wel-” You begin to slur your words

“(Y/n)? Are you sure? You look like you’re about to pass out-”

Ganyu’s words slowly faded oou as your world turned black

Coming to you find yourself staring up at a pristine ceiling and in a hospital bed. Before you could come to your senses you hear two voices talking, the soft voice of Ganyu and another voice

You turned your head to see Ganyu talking to a man with green hair and glasses, Ganyu turns her head towards you and a look of relief washes over her soft features

“Oh my archons, thank goodness you woke up!” Ganyu stood up and rushed over to your bed

“W-what happened…” You asked

The doctor, who you learned his name is Dr. Baizhu, explained everything. How you fainted during work and Ganyu was the one who called for help and also the potential cause of your sudden fainting spell

“Carbon monoxide?!” You repeated Dr. Baizhu’s words in disbelief

“Yes, and if hadn’t fainted when you did you would’ve died.” Dr. Baizhu explained

“But how is that possible? I have a detector at home, it would have alerted me if there was any of it in the air!” You desperately tried to explain

You didn’t know how this would happen until it dawned on you

Finally after one day you were discharged from the hospital, there was only one thing on your mind, confronting the ghost in your home

“Heizou!” You yelled as you entered the apartment and walked into the living room, forgetting to lock the front door

“What’s up, baby? Did you know how worried I was when you didn’t come home?” Heizou asked after he fazed into existence in front of you

“I know you fucked with my detector!”

“Baby-”

“I just got it checked out, there should be no reason for it to already be fucked up unless you did something to it!”

“I only did it so we can be together!”

“Slowly killing me isn’t the way to do it! I still want to live my life, go places and meet new people-”

“So you can leave me?”

“Not like that Heizou, do not twist my words!”

“How else am I supposed to interpret that! You said you missed holding me, what stops me from thinking that you want someone who is alive like you!”

Your words get stuck in your mouth as you start to get scared of your boyfriend

“I can’t stand the thought of someone else having you, you know how many lives I’ve ruined just to be with you!?”

“Heizou, what are you talking about?”

“Remember your old partner and how they got arrested for money laundering? That was me, I planted evidence so they can be arrested.”

“Why did you do that?” You whimpered out

“So I can be with you, I saw how they were treating you. Calling you the most vile names.”

“H-how did you know that? They would only do that in private. Were you spying on me?”

“It was for us to be together! But now that I’m like this, I can’t love you how I want to anymore!” Heizou had a crazed look in his eyes

“Get the hell away from me! God can’t believe I stayed with your crazy ass, I’m leaving!” You began to walk towards the door

“No. Nooo!!!” He shrieked as he pushed you down to the floor. “No! You’re not leaving me, I won’t let you!” He continued as his hands began to put pressure on your neck

You desperately begin to struggle against the ghost even flailing your arms in an attempt to escape, but your hands just fazed through his nonexistent body. In a futile attempt stop the ghost of your boyfriend from choking you further

Is this how you were going to die?

At the hands of the ghost of your former boyfriend?

You look up to see the face of your boyfriend one last time and see the crazed look he has. Is this how you die?

Your vision finally fades into darkness

Heizou released his grip from your now bruised neck

“Now get up.” Heizou demanded

You laid there unmoving

“Get up! You got to get up!” Heizou began to panic. “Please get up! You can’t leave me!”

Heizou pleaded for your spirit to appear before him and began shaking your lifeless body. He didn’t know how long he’s been at this, but stopped when he heard a knock at the door

“(Y/n)?” The familiar voice of Ganyu called out from behind your apartment door. “You didn’t come to work today and didn’t return my calls so I got worried.”

Reaching up to knock on the door again it parts slightly, anxiety now building up in her she slowly pushed open the door revealing your lifeless corpse on the floor

[dreamofbecoming]

more stobin nonsense from your resident trash goblin. feat. shitty harrington parents, lavender marriage, full party found family shenanigans, steddie flirting, steve&will bonding, and a severe lack of dialogue tags

rating: t wc: 5k ao3

“I knew it!”

Steve sighs. Listen, he knew the minute he opened his mouth that this was coming. There was always a zero percent chance Dustin was ever gonna let him get out the whole thing before bursting in with this exact interruption, but that doesn’t make it less annoying. If the little shithead would just let him finish--

"I knew you were perfect together, I can't believe you didn't tell us you were dating! How long have you been a thing? I have money to collect! Can I be your best man? Never mind, obviously I'm gonna be your best man. You so owe me for not telling me sooner! I cannot believe-"

"Henderson!"

"What?"

"We're not together like that."

In fairness, Dustin is not the only one to give them an incredulous look for that one.

"Steve. You literally just announced you and Robin are getting married. What is even the point of pretending you're not in love anymore? What are you still trying to prove? Just admit I was right the whole time!"

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and forces himself to take a deep breath, instead of wringing Dustin's weird little boneless neck. It's not his fault, he reminds himself. They haven't gotten to the second part of the announcement, so his assumptions are natural.

Now, it is Henderson's fault that they haven't managed to say the rest of what they came here to say, so maybe he can keep blaming him after all.

"Do you remember when we sat down and we asked you guys to let us say everything we were gonna say without interrupting?"

"Uh, yeah dude, it was like ten minutes ago. We're not stupid."

"Has it occurred to you that maybe we weren't done saying everything we were gonna say, considering I was halfway through a sentence when you jumped in?"

"I mean, I guess, but like, it's pretty obvious where you're going with this, Steve. You're not a complicated guy, no offense. Now, where did we land on the best man issue?"

Nancy must see the offense very much taken on his face, because before he can open his mouth and say something probably horrifically rude that would feel amazing in the moment and which he would immediately regret, she jumps to his rescue.

"Dustin, you're being very rude. Steve and Robin came here to talk to us, and we promised to listen. Let them finish."

It's nice of her to back Steve up, considering how weird this conversation must be for her. Hopefully it gets less awkward soon.

Henderson grumbles mutinously, but years of dealing with first Mike and then the rest of the little dickheads have left Nancy's control ironclad, and he waves sarcastically for Steve to continue.

This kid is spending too much time with Eddie, the attitude is getting out of hand.

"Right. Thanks, Nance. As I was saying, Robin and I are getting married, yes. But not because we're in love. I mean, I love her, obviously, but as a friend. Only a friend. Or, well, I guess a friend and soon a...friend...wife? Frife? Wend? You guys get it."

"We very much don't." Alright, well, fine, add Max to the shitlist.

He looks over at Robin, hoping for help, but she's stiff as a board and trembling all over.

He doesn't want to be the one to say the words for her. They agreed together to tell everyone the truth, it was her idea even, but the last thing he wants to do is steal that moment from her.

Maybe he can just…talk around it, until she feels up to it. And if not, he’ll just tell them his part of it and call it good.

“We’re getting lavender married.”

Okay, so that’s probably not like. A normal way to say that or whatever. Robin just used that term like fifty times last night, alright? She was really excited about the article she just read about it, something about how it was a thing in, like, olden times or whatever, and now it’s coming back because Reagan is a fucking tool, Steve’s not sure, he was only kind of listening. Regardless, now it’s stuck in his head. Sue him or whatever, geez.

Anyway, he isn’t sure how many people in this room will actually understand what that means, but Nancy’s mouth drops open in a perfect little O the way it only does when she’s genuinely surprised by something, and there’s a tiny gasp from over by the table that he thinks might have come from Will, and Max mutters to herself “Oh shit, that explains so much,” so it’s not none of them, which helps. No pitchforks yet, at least.

Jonathan is eyeing him speculatively, and Argyle is offering him an enthusiastic thumbs up, which is nice.

Unfortunately, the other boys and El are giving him blank, expectant stares, and Erica is eyeing him with both confusion and annoyance, so it looks like he still has some explaining to do.

“What the hell does your color scheme have to do with this? I’m not helping plan the wedding, dude, I don’t care that much.”

Steve mumbles a “Language,” on reflex, but his heart isn’t in it. This is somehow more nerve-wracking than evil Russians.

“Mike, that’s not what it means. Now shut up and listen, or I’ll tell Mom how that red sock ended up in her load of white delicates.”

“Oh come on, she’ll kill me!” When all he gets in return is a single raised eyebrow, he groans and slumps further into his seat, glaring at Steve.

“Right. Okay. So basically, last night, my parents--”

“I’m a lesbian!”

There’s a beat of dead silence, which in this group is more unsettling than just about anything else.

Steve keeps his eyes on Robin, who looks just about as shocked at her own outburst as everyone else in the room. He takes her hand, squeezing gently until she unfreezes a little and looks back over at him. She looks terrified, and it breaks his heart a little.

“You okay, babe?” He keeps his voice low, murmuring just loud enough for her to hear. He knows this moment is the opposite of private, but she needs him to pretend for a second, so that’s what he’s gonna do.

She nods, a little jerkily, but she grips his hand back and intentionally evens out her breathing. She’s so fucking brave. He would burn the world down for Robin Buckley, and he doesn’t care who knows it.

He can’t believe she’s willing to do this for him, but he’s so grateful he feels like he’s choking on it.

“Henderdork will literally never shut up and let you live it down if we do this and he doesn’t know the truth. Not even for a single second for the rest of forever, and I, for one, am not putting up with that shit until death or legal marriage reforms do us part, Dingus.”

It was a solid point last night when they came up with the plan, curled on her bed while she stroked his hair and generously pretended he hadn’t soaked the shoulder of her shirt with his sobs, all his worldly possessions packed into a duffel on her bedroom floor, but he knows her insistence was more about knowing how much he hates lying to the kids than it was about protecting herself from irritating teenagers.

He doesn’t think there’s enough room on the whole planet to hold all the love he feels for her, even if you count the Upside Down and any other weirdo dimensions floating around out there waiting to ruin his day.

“I’m okay, bubba. Don’t let go?” Her hand is shaking in his, but he just squeezes harder.

“Never.” He turns back to the room, eyes hard as he scans the faces of their family for any hostility. He wouldn’t have agreed to this part of the plan if he thought any of them would be a problem, but he’s not taking anything for granted with Robbie’s safety. Not now, not ever. "Everyone's gonna be cool about that, right?"

"Of course we are, right, guys?" From the pained grunt that follows her words, Steve assumes Max has dug her elbow into Mike's ribs.

"Yeah, sure, whatever."

"I suppose this makes you slightly less lame, Buckley. It's definitely better than when I thought you liked this loser." Wow, okay, thank you Erica.

"Yeah totally! Thanks for trusting us, Robin." Lucas is a sweetheart, he really is. He's also glancing surreptitiously at Will while he nods enthusiastically, who is still staring open-mouthed at Robin with wide, shiny eyes.

"Yes, thank you for trusting us, Robin." Nancy is smiling kindly, but she's got that glint in her eye that Steve knows means she just came up with more questions and is waiting for the right moment to strike. Fair enough, at least she's letting Robs have her moment first.

He finally drags his eyes back to Dustin, who he doesn't really want to admit, even to himself, he's a little worried about. Not that he'll be shitty about it, necessarily, but there's nothing that brings out Henderson's bitchy side like being wrong, and he's been so fucking wrong this entire time. It's bound to upset him.

And maybe Steve will never say this out loud where the other kids might hear, but the truth is that Dustin's opinion matters to him more than just about everyone else's. Dustin was the first person in the whole world who saw Steve, the real Steve, and decided he was worth keeping around. If Henderson can't accept this part of Robin, it means he can't accept this part of Steve, and if that happens...if that happens Steve isn't sure he'll be able to come back from it.

So he's...not worried, okay? Worried is not the right word. Anxious, maybe. Concerned.

Okay fine fuck off he's worried.

Dustin...looks like he's about to cry. Shit.

"Did you think you couldn't trust me?" His voice is so small. Steve doesn't think he's ever heard it so small. It feels wrong. Henderson's voice should fill every room he's in, always. "You didn't have to lie. You could have told me the truth."

Aw, fuck.

"Buddy,--"

"It's not that simple, little man."

Steve whips back around to look at Robin. Are you sure you’re up for this? She purses her lips and narrows her eyes. Yeah, Dingus, this is my mess. Let me clean it up. Put the lance down, White Knight. Well, alright then. He waves for her to continue, ignoring the looks the others always shoot them when they do their silent conversation thing. Not his fault they can’t read each other as well, it’s not like it’s hard.

"Before today, Steve was the only person in the world who knew about me. And honestly, I don't know if I would have told him if we weren't both coming off torture and truth serum. I've worked hard to hide it my whole life, baby Dingus, that's not an easy thing to stop doing. It's scary."

"But we're your friends. We're your family! We saved the world together! You should trust your family, right?"

Aw, jeez. Steve forgets, sometimes, how young they are. They've been through horrific supernatural trauma, but they're still the kind of kids who think life is a story with a happy ending, like their little dragon game.

"Yeah, bud, you should, but it's not always that easy. There can be really serious consequences for telling the wrong person. Like, last night my parents found out I'm bisexual by accident and now I...well. Now I don't have parents anymore." Oof, okay, little blunter than he meant to be, but Robbie's getting anxious again so he has to take the focus back.

There's an eruption of sound, as every voice in the Party starts shouting all at once, turning the Wheeler's basement into Steve's own personal migraine generator.

"Did they kick you out?"

"You're bisexual?!"

"What's bisexual?"

"They can't just do that!"

"Does this mean we have to find somewhere else for Hellfire nights?"

That last one earns Erica several Looks, but she doesn't flinch. "What? I'm just being practical."

He wishes Eddie was here. The gremlins actually listen to him, unlike Steve, on account of as their Hellfire DM, he has leverage they care about to threaten them with. Well, most of them, but it's definitely a help when he's around.

Sadly he and Wayne are at some kind of Munson family reunion down in West Virginia this week, so Steve is gonna have to do this whole spiel over again when he gets back. He and Robin thought about waiting until he got back and the whole Party could be together, but the kids would definitely notice him not living in Loch Nora anymore pretty much immediately. And Steve hates the idea of telling him over the phone, so double coming out/engagement announcement it is.

"Alright, Jesus Christ, enough! One at a goddamn time, you animals."

He looks back at Dustin, who's definitely crying now. "Yeah, buddy, they kicked me out, but I'm okay. I'm staying with the Buckleys for now, and Rob and I have been saving up to move in together soon anyway, so all this did is move up our timeline. I'm safe and I'm fine, okay? I promise."

Dustin plasters himself to Steve's front, squeezing like he's worried Steve is going to shatter into pieces and he can hold him together by sheer force of will. It's very sweet, even if it's crushing his lungs a little.

"I'm sorry you felt like you couldn't tell me." The words are muffled in Steve's chest, he's not sure anyone else heard him.

"Aw, kid, it's okay. I trust you, alright? Always. You die, I die, remember? I was just...figuring my shit out, that's all."

"Your parents are mouthbreathers." Steve chuckles a little at the mutinous glare on El's face, not pausing his hand where he's stroking Dustin's hair.

"You're not wrong, Supergirl. But it's fine, honestly. They've always been dicks, I've been planning to move out for a long time. They just...gave me the final push, is all." He's definitely leaving out the part where he broke down sobbing in Robbie's bed last night, asking her over and over why he was so broken that his own parents couldn't love him, but the kids don't need to hear that part of the story.

"Does this have something to do with your whirlwind engagement?" There she is, ace reporter Nancy Wheeler. Observant as always.

"Yeah, pretty much. They disinherited me, but they're still legally my next of kin."

"And Dingus has had far too much head trauma for me to trust he's not gonna end up back in the hospital for something at some point, and the last thing we need is Mr. and Mrs. von Child Neglect getting that call. And I was just reading about gay men and women who are marrying each other so they can have someone allowed in to see in them in the hospital, because of the virus, you know? And I thought, hey that's not a half bad idea! We're gonna be living together anyway, and it's not like I'm marrying anyone else, and it'll be good for both of us to have someone who knows about, y'know, monsters and all that jazz, to do our power of attorney stuff, so, voila! Mr. and Mrs. Bucklington!"

"We are not changing our name to Bucklington."

"Well Harringley is worse, so suck it up, buttercup."

"I'm not interested in keeping the Harrington name, Bobs, I'd rather just be a Buckley."

"Aw, bubba, you're gonna make me cry!"

"You should both become Hendersons! Then we'd really be brothers!"

Steve erupts into laughter, the tension effectively broken by Dustin's wide, toothy grin. "What d'ya say, Bobbie? Steve and Robin Henderson?"

"Would we get access to Claudia's lasagna recipe? Because if so, I'm behind this plan one hundred percent.”

"By 'we' you do mean me, right? Because I love you more than life, Bobs, but I'm not letting you anywhere near a casserole dish. I've learned that lesson."

"It was one time!"

"It took me three days to get all the cheese off the ceiling! There's still a stain!"

"Well good! Ceiling grease stains can be the Harrington's problem now, anyway. They deserve it!"

Argyle is nodding sagely from on top of the incredibly deflated bean bag he's sharing with Jonathan. "I do like Bucklington, it makes you sound like a fancy butler. But family is important, brochachos, and so is lasagna. I vote Henderson."

This spurs impassioned arguments from all corners, which Steve is more than happy to relax into the couch cushions and let wash over him.

There's a light, bubbly feeling in his chest. For the first time since his dad walked in unannounced yesterday, interrupting his phone call with Robin at the worst possible moment, the knot of fear and grief in his stomach starts to loosen.

Robin smiles at him, and he grins helplessly back. Who needs parents when he's got a soulmate? They're together, they're safe, they're surrounded by their family. Steve holds Dustin tighter to his side and lets himself feel loved.

He takes advantage of a lull in the Last Name Wars to get out the last of the speech he'd planned. "Anyway, we decided to tell all of you the truth when we came up with this plan last night, because we do trust you and we didn't want to lie to you, and also because we knew you shitheads would never shut up about us being in love if we didn't and that sounded awful."

He laughs delightedly at the chorus of indignant outbursts this gets him before continuing.

"It's really important that you don't tell anyone outside the Party the truth, alright? We're gonna tell Eddie when he gets back, and we might tell Joyce and Hop eventually, but that needs to be our choice to do. You can't do it for us, and you absolutely can't tell anyone else. The whole point of this is to keep us safe by keeping people from finding out the truth, okay?"

El looks vaguely uncomfortable, but not upset. "Will you tell my Dad soon?"

Steve glances at Robbie, who's looking anxious again, and then over at Will. His shoulders are tense, hunched up around his ears, and he's staring intently at the table in front of him.

Steve isn't sure if anyone else knows what he thinks he knows about Will, but he's pretty sure he recognizes the specific flavor of isolation he can see Will struggling with sometimes, and he's definitely sure he recognizes the looks Will shoots at Mike whenever Wheeler isn't looking. Tommy used to look at him like that.

Either way, he knows the kind of fear the kid must be suffering, just like he knows how terrifying today was for Robin. For Steve, the worst case scenario has already happened, so he has a lot less left to lose. He can afford to smooth the way a little, to test the waters and make sure they're safe for everyone else.

It's not that different from his normal role in this group anyway, just a different kind of monster. He's always been good at taking hits so the others don't have to-- this is just another threat to step in front of.

"Tell you what, Ellie, I'll talk to Hop and Joyce this weekend, that way you won't have to keep secrets from him for too long. I'll just tell him about me, though, at first, okay? That way we'll know if it's safe for Robbie." Or anyone else, he doesn't say.

Jonathan hears it, at the very least, and shoots him a look that's equal parts surprised and grateful. Maybe Will has someone else in his corner after all, then.

El nods happily, satisfied with that.

Before anyone else can jump in, there's a clattering on the basement stairs. None of them have time to tense up too badly before the door bursts open and Eddie comes tumbling through it in a flurry of dark curls and frayed denim.

"Fear not, my wayward wastrels, for I have returned from far off lands, bearing tidings and the promise of libations!"

Steve only recognizes, like, four of those words, but seeing Eddie gives him the same happy, fizzy feeling in his gut that it always does these days, so he grins.

"You're back early, Eds, everything ok?"

Eddie blinks at him, then around the room, looking surprised to see it so packed.

"Yeah, my cousin Clarence accidentally broke my MeeMaw's pasture fencing and set all the goats loose in the hills, and if we stuck around we were gonna have to help round them back up, so Wayne and I snuck out early. I was coming to invite the gremlins out for pizza to tell you all about it, but this is more people than I was expecting. Y'all having a family meeting? Without little old moi?"

Steve valiantly suppresses the shiver that the twang in Eddie's voice triggers. Steve's not sure if Eddie notices the way his accent gets stronger when he's been talking to family, but he's had to work very hard to make sure he doesn't notice the way it affects Steve.

Steve has barely tested the flirting waters with Eddie since admitting his crush to Robin, he's definitely not jumping right in with 'It makes me tingly all over when you start talking with a drawl, wanna call me darlin' and see what happens?'

Luckily Bobbie notices his inner struggle and comes to his rescue.

"It was kind of a time sensitive issue- not a life or death one! Or like. Not a monster one, anyway. But shit went down last night and we needed to brief everyone before the geek squad figured out something was funky and came beating down the door. Steve wanted to tell you in person so we were gonna wait til you got back, but here you are!"

Eddie's looking at Robin with an amused smile on his face, one eyebrow raised and his lips quirked in a lopsided grin that is, frankly, unreasonably attractive. "Here I am indeed, my fair Lady of Feathers. So what's the scoop?"

He plops down next to Jonathan and Argyle on the beanbags, nearly sending them all toppling before Argyle hooks both of them around the waists and drags them practically into his lap.

Steve is not seething with jealousy. He's not.

A half a dozen voices chime out all at once.

"Robin's gay!"

"Steve's homeless."

"Robin and Steve are getting married!"

“Purple married.”

“It’s lavender, dummy.”

“Lavender’s a kind of purple!”

"They're gonna be Hendersons!"

"No they aren't, weirdo, they're gonna be Buckleys."

"Bucklington is clearly the superior choice, even if Argyle was right about the butler thing."

“Bucklington my ass, y’all dumb as hell if you think Mom and Dad aren’t gonna try and make him a Sinclair after this.”

"Mama and Papa Harrington didn't like that Stevie boy has double the love to give. Totally bogus. Bi bros for life, man."

"I still call Steve's best man!"

Eddie blinks a little when everyone quiets down, looking vaguely shellshocked. "That was. A lot of information to get in thirty seconds."

And, listen, Steve is like, 97% sure Eddie's cool. More than cool, even. He moves that bandana to the same pocket every time he changes his jeans, no matter what outfit he's wearing. There's no way that's an accident. But if Steve is being totally honest, which he's trying to do more these days, at least inside his own brain, this is maybe not the way he'd have chosen to come out to his crush. It's somehow way more nerve-wracking when he didn't even get to say it himself.

Oh well, it's out there now. It's fine, probably.

Still, there’s a definite feeling of relief when Eddie turns that megawatt grin on him again.

"Man, I wish I'd known there were other queers in Hawkins, I might have listened sooner when Henderson told me how cool you guys were!"

Steve laughs, only a little hysterically. "Dude, if you thought you were the only one, what the hell have you been wearing that hanky for? Who are you hoping will see it?"

It's a little gratifying to see Eddie go flaming tomato red in seconds. "I am not talking about that in mixed company, Steven. There are children here!"

"Ugh, we're literally teenagers."

"Tiny baby infants! If you're so curious, you can ask me again later."

"Promise?" Steve can't stop himself from grinning wolfishly.

Eddie tugs his hair in front of his face to hide, and the frantic little giggle and the quiet "Oh my god," he lets out both sound more than a little strangled. Steve's having the time of his life right now.

"Gross." Ugh, rude. He glares at Robin for ruining his fun. She sticks her tongue out at him.

Before they can devolve into the inevitable slapfight, Nancy cuts in again.

"Alright, unless anyone else has anything to share in private, I think we should take Eddie's suggestion and get something to eat." Good thinking, Nance. "To celebrate the happy couple, of course," she adds with a smirk. Yeah, that makes more sense.

"Onward then, my noble companions, to pizza and to paradise!" Eddie vaults off the beanbag, sending Jonathan and Argyle tumbling. Argyle laughs and accepts Eddie's hand up, while Jonathan just rolls his eyes good-naturedly.

Eddie slings an arm around Robin's shoulders as they head for the basement door. "So, Birdie, what's this I hear about a wedding? I need context."

As the kids go thundering up the stairs, arguing about who gets to drive in which car, Steve lingers. He noticed Will hanging back from the others, and now they're the last ones left, Will still slowly packing up the pens and notebooks he seems to carry around with him everywhere. Jonathan is hovering anxiously in the doorway, so Steve sends him a nod and waves him off. He's got this.

"You ready to go, kid?"

Will fidgets with the zipper on his bag for another few seconds before looking up at Steve through his, frankly tragic, fringe. "I'm sorry your parents suck."

"Yeah, man, me too." Steve shoots him a wry little smile. "It's alright though, sometimes we're better off without them. I've got plenty of family here that love me, I'll survive without Richard and Diane."

Will studies him for a minute. Steve's not sure what he's looking for, but he hopes he finds it.

"That's what Jonathan says about Lonnie." Steve nods, trying not to wince at the memory of the things he spat at Jonathan that day in '83 when everything changed. "I used to think it was my fault he left, but Jonathan says he was just a bastard, and it's better he's gone anyway."

"I didn't know Lonnie," he's careful not to say your dad, "but from what I've heard, Jonathan's probably right. And he's definitely right that it's not your fault."

"Like it's not your fault your parents kicked you out?"

"Yeah, exactly like that. If it was my fault, that would mean I did something wrong. The only thing I did was exist, and be different than they thought I would be. If they can't love the kid they had, then they shouldn't have had a kid at all. That's their problem, not mine. There's nothing wrong with me."

It doesn't matter if he heard all of these things from Robin first, if he's still trying to learn to believe them. Will needs to hear them like they're true, the same way Steve does.

"Are you sure?" Will's voice is trembling now. He's looking at the floor, but Steve can tell there are tears coming. "How can you be sure this is how you're supposed to be? Wouldn't you rather be normal?"

Oh, kid. "I mean, yeah, maybe it would be easier if I only liked girls, but I don't. I tried for a long time to pretend that I did, but it didn't make it true. And yeah, part of me wants to hate myself, because that's what they taught me to think, and I still kinda wish doing that would make them love me, but it won't. But honestly, you wanna know the biggest thing?" Will nods.

"I can't hate that part of myself without hating Robin, and there's no universe where I could hate Robin. Robin's perfect. She's the best person in the world, and she's gay, so being gay can't be bad. It's impossible. So whenever that voice in my head starts saying shitty things to me, I just think about how much I love Robin and tell it to shut up."

There's a beat where Will seems to be absorbing this.

"How did you know it would be safe? To tell us the truth?"

"I didn't."

Will stares at him in shock.

"Not a hundred percent, anyway. I was pretty sure, but it's never a guarantee with stuff like this, you know? But the other option was never telling anyone, and that...it gets tiring, you know? Always having to hide. Always having to check yourself. Lying when people ask the wrong questions. It wears you down. And I've fought monsters with you guys. I've been tortured by spies with you guys. If I can't trust this group to have my back, I can't trust anyone, can I? And I didn't want to live a life of not trusting anyone. I didn't want Bobbie to live a life like that. So, we took a chance. And it paid off, because all of you are the people we thought you were, and we were right to trust you. But it was a leap of faith, dude. It always is."

"What if I'm not ready?" Fucking shit, this kid. He's been through more than any of them, except maybe El, and he's still so goddamn brave. Steve would have crumpled like a tin can in his place.

"Then you're not ready. It's not a test, Will. There's no right or wrong answers. But I will say that every single person out there loves you, and they'll keep loving you no matter what you do. They're not like my parents, or Lonnie. Our friends aren't broken inside the way they are. Their love isn't conditional. You won't chase them away. You couldn't if you tried."

Will lets out a shaky breath, clearly fighting back tears. Steve leans against the table and keeps his head down, offering the kid the illusion of privacy while he pulls himself together. After a few minutes he speaks up again.

"You ready to go, you think?"

Will nods. He goes to walk past Steve to the stairs before hesitating and, to Steve's surprise, wrapping his gangly arms around him in an awkward hug.

"Thanks, Steve," he mumbles into Steve's shoulder.

Steve runs a hand down his back uncertainly. "Anytime, kid."

He keeps his arm around Will's shoulders tentative, but when the kid doesn't shrug him off or move away, he lets it settle more firmly, tugging him closer.

“Come on Baby Byers, let's go get some pizza. You think I can milk the disownment thing to get Eddie to pay for extra toppings?"

Will snorts. "I think Eddie would pay for as many toppings as you want as long as you do that little eyelash thing at him again."

Steve throws his head back and laughs, long and loud from his belly. Yeah, it's gonna be a good night.

my head hurts too much to keep writing this but please know that the pizza parlor engagement party involves plenty of arguing about roles in the wedding party, resulting in MOH erica/best man dustin (scoops troop babeyy), flower girl team lumax (max demanded the role bc her wheelchair means she can carry extra baskets of petals, and lucas will be pushing the chair so her hands are free. he's just excited to be there.) nancy/el bridesmaids and byler groomsmen (mike grumbles and groans but he's secretly thrilled). jonathan does the pictures and it turns out argyle got ordained back in cali as a joke so he officiates. eddie plays crimson and clover for robin’s wedding march. there’s a bit of a kerfuffle when claudia and the sinclairs both try to claim steve as their son, but after someone makes the argument that charles and sue have two kids to carry their name while claudia only has one, they end up hyphenating and becoming the buckley-hendersons. yes, claudia cries. yes, they get the lasagna recipe.

(at the pizza place, eddie asks what his role will be and steve says he doesn't know yet, but he'll save him a dance regardless. eddie has to hide in the bathroom to stop blushing.)

[petitemistletoe]

S.O.S. She's In Disguise

Part Two to She-Wolf

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader, Sirius Black x Remus Lupin, Potter!Reader

Warnings: smut and angst!

Word Count: 4.8K+

A/N: I had to do a deep dive into Beauxbatons and all I can say is I wish we got more Beauxabatons and Durmstrang content because they're both phenomenally interesting. Also the James Potter in She-wolf absolutely eats up the James Potter in Grudges! There were a few of you who asked to be tagged that you could not be :( so sorry! If I left you off the taglist please let me know :)

“What do we do?” Peter asked, wringing his hands. 

“You two get Remus back to the shack. I’ll try to carry her to the hospital wing.” James put on his authoritative voice but everyone could tell he was incredibly rattled. 

“Do you want one of us to help you?” Sirius asked but James shook his head, picking you up gently and hoisting you over his shoulder. 

“No, no. Take the cloak and go. Madame Pomfrey should be down here any minute you have to go now.” James was not able to hide the quiver in his voice. 

“Okay. We’ll see you soon.” Peter nodded at James before helping Sirius support Remus back to the shrieking shack. 

You woke up as James was setting you down on a bed in the hospital wing. 

“Don’t try to talk, it’s alright,” James said when he saw your eyes widen, “Madame Pomfrey will be back in a few minutes. I filled her in on everything but you need your rest.”

“You know?” You croaked, accepting the water from James and soothing your scratchy throat. 

“That you’re a werewolf? Yes, I worked that out what you stumbled out of the woods.” James pursed his lips and you could tell that he was trying to hard to keep his voice level. 

“I imagine you have some questions, then.” You said, trying to keep your own voice steady as well. 

“Yes. But you can rest first if you’d like.” 

“No, no. We can talk now.” You sat up straight in the hospital bed and smoothed out the blanket that was laid out in front of you. 

“When exactly did you become a werewolf?” He asked. His nails were digging into the palms of his hands. 

“Last year. Beauxbatons has a requirement for outdoor education for all wizards and witches and I’d chosen the option of solo fitness survival. I failed the first round of solo fitness survival so I apparated to a random forest last summer to practice. I did not pay attention and it was during the full moon and I was attacked by one of Greyback’s pack. I barely survived and when I apparated back home I splinched myself pretty badly. My parents knew they couldn’t take me to a hospital because I would be forced to register myself immediately. My mum called your mum and she was able to stitch me up and then was sworn to secrecy. The medi-witch at Beauxbatons tried to help me as much as she could but she’s never dealt with this kind of thing before. Then your mum mentioned in an owl a few months ago that Madame Pomfrey had some experience in this field so I went down yesterday to try to find more information but there were too many people in the hospital wing so we did not have any privacy. I ran into the woods last night and thought that I’d be able to pull myself into the hospital wing in the morning and get Madame Pomfrey’s help then. I knew that Madame Pomfrey’s experience must have come from a student who was also in hiding but I had no idea it was going to be your friend Remus. I also still don’t understand why you were there?” You took a deep breath as you realized you hadn’t taken one breath the entire time you were speaking. 

“Oh fuck, I’m so sorry,” James looked deflated as he put his hand on top of yours, “I was there because Sirius, Peter, and I are all animagi. We became unregistered animagi to help Remus during the moons. They make his moons easier, having other animals to run around with  and he doesn’t have to be stuck in the shack.” 

“Oh James,” you bit your lower lip hard to stop yourself from tearing up, “Remus is so lucky to have friends like you. The moons can be so terribly lonely.” 

“I wish you didn’t have to go through this,” James said, finally breaking. He laid his head in your lap and sobbed. You just ran your fingers gently through James’ hair until his sobs were reduced to a few sniffles. The curtains were pulled open and Madame Pomfrey stepped in, pulling the curtain closed behind her. 

“How are you feeling, Ms. Potter?” She replenished your water and ran her hand soothingly over your forehead. 

“Tired.” You said with a small smile. 

“Of course you are. Take this sleeping draught. Your parents will be coming by later and meeting with Professor Dumbledore. Will you be staying, Mr. Potter?”

“Yes I will. Is Remus awake?” James asked, standing and shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. 

“Yes, he is. He’s supposed to rest so make it quick, Mr. Potter.” Madame Pomfrey left after she made you drink the rest of the draught and you drifted off to sleep. 

James made his way over to Remus’ bed where he was engaged in rapid conversation with Sirius. He was only able to catch the tail end of what Sirius was saying, 

“-That explains why you were so attracted to her. It was the wolf instincts and-”

“James!” Remus cut off Sirius off when James pulled the curtain back. 

“Alright Moony?” James asked, taking the seat next to Sirius’. 

“Yeah, yeah. How’s your cousin?” Remus asked.

“She’s alright. My aunt and uncle are coming to meet with Dumbledore but neither of us know what it’s specifically about.” James sighed. 

“Are you okay?” Sirius asked. 

“I just…I don’t get why she didn’t tell me. We tell each other everything.” James shook his head. 

“You didn’t tell her about being an animagus.” Remus offered. 

“That was different.” James thought about it for a moment before looking back at Sirius and Remus, “You two were talking about attraction and wolf instincts. What the hell is that about?”

“I think it’s probably time for me to go back to bed!” Remus said quickly. 

“Alright. I’m going to see if I can catch my aunt and uncle before they see Dumbledore.” James said with a sigh and left Remus and Sirius on their own. 

“That was close.” Sirius said once he heard the door to the hospital wing shut behind James. 

“Definitely.” Remus nodded. 

“How are you feeling?” Sirius asked. 

“Honestly, the best I’ve felt in a long time. The moon was invigorating rather than draining.” Remus sighed again, thinking about the uncomfortable, awkward implications. 

“You should talk to her.” Sirius suggested.

“Yeah…maybe I will.” Remus said with a small shake of his head. 

✰

When you woke up again, your father was leaning over you, rubbing your forehead gently. 

“Hey,” you said softly, blinking the sleep out of your eyes. 

“Hello darling, I’ve heard that you’ve had quite a night.” Your father said with a sad smile on his face.

“That’s an understatement.” You said, weakly. You pushed yourself up on your shoulders and saw your mother, your Aunt Effie, your Uncle Fleamont, and James were all sitting around your bedside. 

“Have some more water, love,” Aunt Effie poured a goblet for you and held it up to your lips. You drank gratefully, not realizing until the present moment how dehydrated you had been. 

“Professor Dumbledore will be coming down in a few moments to talk. I’m not exactly sure what he wants but I’m sure he will help with the situation. James shared with us that you know about Remus. Your parents said you do not want to register with the ministry, is that correct?” Uncle Fleamont pushed his glasses up further up his nose as he explained the situation. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, “my life will be ruined if I register. I…I don’t want that.” 

“Of course. Then we’ll make that clear to Albus.” Uncle Fleamont said it as if it were the simplest thing in the world. 

“Thank you,” you croaked, “for all being here. I…I don’t know what I do without all of you.”

“We’re your family.” James said, grabbing your hand and giving it a tight squeeze. You nodded and accepted another large gulp of water as you heard the door to the hospital wing open and the deep, calm voice of Albus Dumbledore say,

“Thank you, Poppy. Just that bed over there?” 

“Yes sir,” Madame Pomfrey replied. Your mother stood and pulled the curtain back for Professor Dumbledore to enter. 

“Hello Mrs. Potter, Mr. Potter. Oh, Euphemia, Fleamont, I was not expecting to see you two as well.” Professor Dumbledore bowed his head respectfully as he entered the room. 

“Hello Albus. We thought it best that we come to help with our niece at this time.” Uncle Fleamont said, standing to shake hands with Professor Dumbledore. 

“Of course. Ms. Potter I trust that you are recuperating well.” Professor Dumbledore set his bright blue eyes on you. You nodded. 

“Yes, Professor Dumbledore. I want to apologize for any alarm I may have caused.” You responded. 

“Yes that is something I would like to discuss. I have no problems with the young Ms. Potter finishing her schooling here at Hogwarts where Madame Pomfrey can better care for her. However, Ms. Potter, I am sure you are aware of the ministry’s registry for werewolves.” Dumbledore said. He was speaking perfectly calmly but there was something off-putting about his statement. 

“She will not be registering. Just like Remus.” James said, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. 

“Is that how you feel, Ms. Potter?” Dumbledore asked. 

“Yes sir.” You nodded. 

“I would be remiss if I did not highlight how seriously the ministry takes such affairs. There are severe implications that are in place for witches and wizards who fail to register.” Dumbledore said, placing one of his hands on your bedpost. 

“She is quite sure of her decision, Albus.” Uncle Fleamont stood so he was eye-level with Dumbeldore. 

“You know as well as I do, Albus, that the registry is discriminatory and the way the ministry has treated magical creatures has been nothing short of barbaric.” Aunt Effie said, placing her hand over yours and giving it a light squeeze. 

“I will have Professor McGonagall bring the sorting hat over and then we will set up your schedule and accommodations. I understand, Ms. Potter, that you were Head Girl of your house at Beauxbatons?” Dumbledore diplomatically changed the subject. 

“Yes sir, I was. I was also in Ombrelune house at Beauxbatons. I believe the closest house to it would be Gryffindor.” You said, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly. 

“Ah, Ms. Potter, the houses of Beauxbatons do not directly correspond to the houses of Hogwarts. I will arrange with your future head of house for a prefect position for you as we already have a head boy and girl. If you would be more comfortable, you may stay in James’s dorm this evening, as I understand it has been quite a weekend for you.” Dumbledore left without saying much else. Your parents and aunt and uncle wanted to stay for longer but you sent them off, promising to write and telling them not to worry, the Christmas holiday was just two months away. 

Remus, Sirius, and Peter joined you and James as you waited for Professor McGonagall to come back with the sorting hat. 

“Here,” Peter said, thrusting a wrapped package into your hand, “it’s a chocolate frog. Moony always says they make him feel better after a moon.”

“Yeah,” Remus nodded, munching on his own chocolate frog, “chocolate makes everything better.”

“Thanks Peter,” you said, patting the boy’s hand lightly, “so I take it you forgive me for the broomstick incident.”

“Never! I don’t care if you are a werewolf.” Peter laughed. But the word hung heavy in the air. Werewolf. You looked down at your lap.

“Nice going Wormtail.” Sirius elbowed Peter hard in the stomach.

“Hey! I didn’t mean anything by it.” Peter grabbed at his stomach and glared at Sirius.

“No, you never mean anything. Do you?” Sirius retorted. 

“Tell us more about the houses at Beauxbatons.” James interjected, sending a look Peter and Sirius’ way. 

“There are three houses: Papillionlise, Ombrelune, and Bellefeuille. Papillionlise is the house of kindness and good nature. Ombrelune, my house, is the house of ambition, curiosity, and logic. Bellefeuille is the house of bravery, sensitivity, and compassion. Everyone wants to be in Ombrelune and we have a little rivalry with the Bellefeuille students.” You explained. 

“Ambition and logic?” Remus asked, “That sounds like Slytherin.”

“There’s no way that you’ll be sorted into Slytherin. She’s a Potter. All Potters are Gryffindors.” James said with a sense of finality in his voice. 

“There’s nothing wrong with being sorted into Slytherin.” A new voice said. It was Lily, carrying a tray of sandwiches that must have been from dinner. 

“Cheers Lily.” You said with a grin, practically shoving an entire sandwich into your mouth. 

“What are you doing in the hospital wing?” Lily asked, “Remus, you’re out of bed early. Feeling better already?” 

“Uh, yeah, well…you see…” James was searching for an excuse but you just shrugged. 

“I’m a werewolf.”

“Oh!” Lily almost dropped the tray.

“You can’t just go telling anyone.” James scolded you.

“Lily isn’t anyone. She knows about Remus and I didn’t want to be a secret between you and your girlfriend, James. Besides, you’ve gone on and on about how smart Lily is, she would have figured it out herself eventually. Lily, I trust you won’t tell anyone?”

“No, no. Of course not. Are you all right?” Lily asked, immediately sitting at your bedside and grabbing a cool soaked rag and placing it on your forehead. 

“I’m fine, thank you.” You said with a small smile. You filled Lily in on your new attendance at Hogwarts.

“Like I said before, there’s nothing wrong with being sorted into Slytherin. One of my good friends is a Slytherin and so is Sirius’s entire family!” Lily said, glaring at James. 

“That’s not much of an argument.” Sirius rolled his eyes. 

“I can’t protect her if she’s sorted into Slytherin, Lily.” James narrowed his eyes, “Those Slytherins are bigots and you know it.”

“It’s not very safe for Remus in Gryffindor either. The way werewolves are seen in the eyes of the wizarding world is not only a Slytherin problem.” Lily crossed her arms over her chest.

“Respectfully, Evans, stay out of this.” James said, coolly. 

“There are many fine and brave wizards in Slytherin. Don’t listen to James.” Lily told you, 

“If this is about Snivellus again, so help me Evans.”

“Fine,” Lily stormed out of the hospital wing. 

“So much for coming between you and Lily.” You said sheepishly. James was still seething with anger but he took a deep breath and said, 

“I’m going to go for quick walk. Sirius, call me when McGonagall gets here.” James stormed out of the hospital wing as well.

“Is Slytherin really that bad?” You asked Sirius, Remus, and Peter.

“A lot of dark wizards, most of my family included, come from Slytherin.” Sirius said with a sigh. 

“That’s all? A lot of dark wizards come from Ombrelune too but so do a lot of amazing wizards. I can’t believe James is being so silly about this.” You shook your head. 

“I think he just wants to protect you.” Peter said, obviously uncomfortable at the idea of speaking ill about his best friend, “you’ve always been like a baby sister to him and he already hates that Sirius and Lily have strained relationships with Slytherins. I don’t think he wants anything like that for you two.”

“All that is premature, anyway.” You said with a head shake, “I haven’t been sorted yet.” As if on cue, you all heard the voice of Professor McGonagall in the corridor. Sirius whipped out his pocket mirror, one that you recognized from your family vault, and whispered for James to come back. 

“Ms. Potter, I’d like to introduce myself. My name is Minvera McGonagall, professor of Transfiguration, head of Gryffindor house, and deputy headmistresses of Hogwarts. Do you have any questions before you are sorted?”

“No Professor.” You said, taking a deep breath as James made his way back into the hospital room. Professor Dumbledore placed the hat on your head. 

“Another Potter,” the sorting hat murmured in your ear, “in all of my years I have only ever sorted Potters into Gryffindor. But you, you are not like the other Potters. You are ambitious. You are curious, always seeking more and more. You have secrets, more than most of your contemporaries. You seem to be the perfect fit for Ombrelune. You know the origin of the name Ombrelune, don’t you?” 

“Uh…no I don’t.” You said, fiddling with your fingers. 

“Ombre is shadow and lune is moon. You hail from the house of shadow moons. Quite ironic, isn’t it? Considering your currently monthly situation,” the hat chuckled, “alas there is no equivalent to Ombrelune so I will have to say SLYTHERIN!”

There was an eery silence that broke out over the room. Professor McGonagall took the hat back and cleared her throat. 

“Congratulations, Ms. Potter, on being sorted into the fine house of Slytherin. Your head of house is Professor Slughorn. I believe tomorrow during breakfast you will be assigned a companion from your house that will show you everything you need. I’ve been told that you’ll spend this evening with your cousin?”

“Yes, Professor McGonagall, that’s correct. She’ll spend the night in my dormitory.” James said quietly. 

“Alright then, have a pleasant evening.” And with that Professor McGonagall marched away. 

“So the conversation is no longer premature.” You said with a weak chuckle, “I’m a Slytherin.”

“It really isn’t that bad James,” Remus said. 

“I can’t protect you in Slytherin.” James said with a sad shake of his head. 

“I can take care of myself, thank you very much.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“It’s been a long night. Why don’t we go to bed and revisit things in the morning?” Peter offered. You all nodded and headed back up to the dormitories for bed. 

Remus had a restless night. The moon was over but he still felt on edge around you. Of course, things made a lot more sense now but he didn’t want to make an advance for a number of reasons. He didn’t want to burden you, he wasn’t really sure of what he was feeling himself, and he did not want to bring down the wrath of James Potter. It must have been four in the morning when he turned again from his side to his stomach to his other side and then settled on his back. 

“Alright Moony,” Sirius’s sleep laced voice cut through Remus’s thoughts, “what the hell is going on?”

“Can’t sleep.” Remus sighed.

“I figured,” Sirius propped himself up and glared at Remus, “considering you’ve woken me up at every toss and turn.” 

“Sorry. I’ll go downstairs and have a smoke.” Remus pressed a kiss to Sirius’s forehead before making his way downstairs. He wasn’t expecting to see you leaning at one of the open windowsills, angling your blunt out the window so the pungent smoke made its way outside instead of back in the common room. Remus cleared his throat and you turned at the noise, giving Remus a small smile. 

“Hey Remus. What are you doing up?” You asked. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” Remus said with a sigh. 

“Me either.” You handed Remus to joint, which he took gratefully, “Is it always this hard? This soon after a moon?”

“I usually sleep better after a moon, because I’m so exhausted from it. Having you here, though, it’s been different.” Remus realized that he had smoked half of your joint without thinking. He handed it back to you with a sheepish smile. 

“Me too. It’s been easier, having you with me. I guess that was the goal, though, right? Being able to connect with others who could understand my…being a werewolf.”

“Yeah, it can be lonely sometimes. I’m glad to have you here with me.” Remus realized that your eyes had been trained on him the entire time he spoke. You closed the distance between the two of you, crawling into his lap and pressing your lips against his. 

Remus was caught off guard at first but then he kissed you back just as hard. It was intense, hungry, teeth clashing against teeth. You kissed down Remus’s neck and bit along the way, sinking your teeth into the soft flesh. Remus winced at the pain from your sharp teeth but he couldn’t bring himself to tell you to stop because he loved the feeling. You pulled his thick jumper off and ran your nails down the front of his chest, tracing his scars. He felt, awkward, ashamed at first, but you took off your own shirt and he saw the pale, magical scars that lined your own chest. He took a moment to kiss down your chest, kissing your breasts and around your nipples. Finally, he took your right nipple into his mouth and bit down harshly. You moaned out in a mix of pain and pleasure and shock but nodded at him to continue. 

Remus’s hand went down your pants next, tearing your panties off. He held them up to his nose and sniffed harshly. 

“You smell delicious. Good enough to eat.” Remus said, running his tongue over his sharp canines. He pulled your pants all the way off and shoved his face between your legs. You had never been eaten out like this before. Two of his fingers were deep inside you as his tongue made a repeated assault on your clit. His teeth would bump your clit occasionally, sending shockwaves through your system and you had your fingers buried in his hair, yanking the tendrils so tightly that you were near the point of ripping them out. You came on his face, your legs spasming, and you released a howl. That sobered you and Remus right up. You pulled up your pants and chuckled nervously. 

“I, uh, I’m going to go back to bed.” You said, rubbing the back of your neck. 

“Yeah, yeah. Have a good night.” Remus was cursing everything as he watched ascend the stairs and couldn’t help but think about how it might be better that you were going to be sleeping all the way in the dungeons. 

The next morning was a bit awkward as you made your way down for breakfast. The place was alive with rumors swirling about the new girl at Hogwarts. You sat down at the Gryffindor table next to James. Lily gave you a warm hello and then sent an icy glare James’s way before sitting down next to Marlene and Mary. You desperately wished you have spent the day with the Gryffindor girls but the boy you saw a few days ago made his way over to your table. 

“What do you want, Snivellus?” James glowered at Snape.

“I’m your cousins assigned companion.” Snape returned the glare. 

“It just keeps getting better and better, huh.” You said with a small smile. “Alright Severus, I’m all yours.”

Snape barely let you out of his sight for the next month. You were more than adjusted to Hogwarts after the first week but Snape wouldn’t leave you alone, much to James’s chagrin. The marauders joked that Snape must have some twisted crush on you but you weren’t so sure. It felt much more sinister than that. The moon was this evening and you felt like you could crawl out of your skin. It didn’t help being close to Remus. Everything about Remus felt like your nerves were exposed, especially being so close the moon. Tensions were still high between James and Lily, the couple were barely speaking and when they did, it only devolved into a fight. 

You were lucky enough to have potions with Gryffindor but the lovely Professor Slughorn had assigned Snape to be your partner. Your spine felt like it was doing somersaults and kept shifting in your chair uncomfortably. 

“Are you alright?” Snape whispered in your ear as Slughorn prattled on and on about whatever the day’s lesson was. 

“Fine.”

“That time of the month, eh?” Snape asked. 

“What?” Your blood ran cold. 

“Forget I said anything.” Snape said with a smug grin. Icy sweat ran down the back of your neck. You pushed it out of your mind. Snape didn’t know. He couldn’t know. Right? You were lost in thought as you walked with the boys up to lunch. Snape had made some rude comment to Lily which caused James to jump in front of her and draw his wand. 

“You take that back, Snivellus.”

“Or what, Potter?” Snape asked, drawing his own wand. 

“I don’t need you to defend me, James.” Lily crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Shut up, mudblood.” Snape spat. You felt yourself surge forward but Remus held you back. 

“Don’t. You’re emotional because of the moon,” he whispered in your ear.

“Get away from us, Snivellus. Take your disgusting plague somewhere else.” Sirius looked down his nose at Snape.

“Oh I’m the disgusting one?” Snape laughed, cruelly, “You would know all about unsavory actions, wouldn’t you Black? Lupin?” 

“Take that back.” Sirius was very pale. 

“Everyone keep moving,” it was that boy, the one who looked like Sirius. You knew by now his name was Regulus and he was indeed Sirius’s brother. Regulus was a prefect for SLytherin and it looked like he would be making head boy next year. 

“I don’t answer to you, Reggie.” Sirius said with a hard look on his face. 

“Just go. Before I take points from Gryffindor and Slytherin.” Regulus gripped Snape’s arm hard before Snape could fire off another comment. Everyone made their way to lunch in a much more sour mood than before. 

The moon descended upon you and Remus that evening and things had been great. But for the second time, you woke from a moon at Hogwarts with an uneasy feeling in your chest. James wasn’t there, which was odd, but Sirius was. Sirius looked down at you and Remus with a nervous smile and said, 

“So I messed up.”

Taglist:

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[pinkponyglitter]

Cover your cough

one shot | Grey’s Anatomy | Masterlist

pairing; Addison Montgomery x f!reader.

tags; fluff, confession, attending x intern

summary; you are an intern at Seattle Grace and you work under ‘The Ruler of all that is Evil’. everyone gets sick sometimes, and when a woman that you happen to have a crush on gets sick. you just can’t pass the opportunity.

notes; i wrote this a long time ago, please bare with me…

Being on Addison's Montgomery service is not an easy job. Especially when you have to look for her all over the hospital. Unfortunately Seattle Grace has a lot of good hiding spots.

"Hey, have you seen Dr. Montgomery?" You asked one of the nurses.

"No, sorry." She replied and rolled her eyes.

"Okay, thanks."

You like most of the nurses, they're really nice and very helpful but some of them are horrible. For example, this one, her name is Bria and she's a pain in the ass. Which makes you sad because you've always been really nice to her, unlike other residents.

You had been looking for her for an hour already, You really thought that Bailey wanting to get rid of you, did not mention that Addison had taken time off. Just when you were really about to give up you walked into one of the one-call rooms. You sat down on the bed that faced the couch and saw pink scrubs you've been looking for.

"There you are, I've been searching for you all day Dr. Montgomery," you mumbled. "Oh, are you okay?"

She didn't look like she was ok. She was sitting leaning on the couch and almost melting.

"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you, y/n," she replied.

You walked up to her and put your hand on her forehead. You had never seen an attending in such a state. Especially her. You've never seen her like that.

"Shit, you're burning up and I'm pretty sure that white paint has more color than your face. You're not okay, Addison. You're sick," you gasped. "Come on, I'll drive you home." You stuck out your hand.

"No, y/n. You have patients, you can't just leave. I'm gonna be fine." She protested trying to get up.

"No, come on. Lay on the bed or you can stay on the couch, whatever you feel comfortable with and I'll go to the chief and tell him that you're sick and that I'm the only one who's going to drive you home. You stay here."

As you said, so you did. You went to the chief and explained to him that you were currently on Addison's service and actually weren't busy at the time. At first he didn't like the idea, but when you started talking about how dangerous it was for her patients to stay, he quickly succumbed. Also, you bought water and a sandwich because she looked like she needed energy.

"Okay, I'm back. Do you want a sandwich? Water?" She nodded her head no. "Addison, drink this at least and don't argue with me." She finally gave in. "Are you in any pain? Anything I could look into?"

"My stomach hurts a little bit," she muttered.

"Lift your shirt up."

"No, y/n. That's fine, I'm fine."

"Stop being so stubborn, please let me help you. You finally have a chance to see how good I am." She smirked. "Now come on, lift your shirt a little bit."

You examined her abdomen and also did an ultrasound to be safe. Everything looked fine. But you could tell she was in pain, and you don't quite know why, but you felt a strange feeling in your chest. When you finally made it to your car you breathed a sigh of relief. You knew that at this point her only option was to go with you. I mean, after all, she was already in the car anyway.

It was the first time you were in the apartment of any attending, well, maybe not counting the fact that Derek practically lived in the house you lived. You climbed the stairs and soon found yourselves in a cozy apartment. You told Addison to sit on the couch and covered her with a blanket right off the bat. She looked innocent, almost like a baby.

"Why are you doing this?" You heard her raspy voice behind you.

"Huh?"

"You're nice to me and you've always been, even when you found out about me and Mark. Even when I was hard on you. I mean, I get that you're a doctor too so you help people, but just... why are you helping me?"

You couldn't hide the fact that you just cared. Fact, Addison did stupid things in life, as we all do, but that didn't make her a bad person. Besides, you started to have a little crush on her from the first time you saw her, and on top of that you became something like friends and she was really close to you. You understood each other.

"I just care about you," you responded and turned around to look at her. "Okay look, this is probably not a very good time to tell you this but... I kinda have a crush on you?" You made a weird face. "I didn't tell you anything because this whole thing with Derek and then Mark was hard on you, but yeah I have a crush on you, maybe something even more than a crush. Also we're friends, really good friends so stop asking me these ridiculous questions," you explained.

"You have a crush on me?" Her eyes widened.

"God, sorry I didn't mean to make you... Look, we don't have to do anything about it. I'll be fine. Just forget it." You smiled awkwardly.

Couple days later...

"You finally told her?" Mer asked and took a bite of her fries, you covered your face with your hands.

"That wasn't the plan but yeah I did. God, I'm so embarrassed." You laughed.

"Was she shocked?" Alex asked.

"Pretty much, yeah."

"You're right, this is dumb. She's practically you're boss." Cristina shrugged her shoulders.

"You're acting like you didn't screwd an attending yourself." You rolled your eyes and she just raised her hands in defense.

You're pager went off. You looked at it. It said 211 which meant that Addison paged you. You looked up at everyone's faces, most of them smirked.

"Is that your lover?" Izzie teased you.

"I hate you all, I have to go." You got up from the table and headed toward Addison's office.

You felt like you was going to throw up. You haven't seen her for a few days, after you left her apartment that day you couldn't go back. You felt stupid. You told her, you told her you felt something and she just sat there looking at you so you left as soon as you could. You didn't want to make things awkward between you, you had already passed that stage when Addison found out that your friend was Meredith.

You stood in front of the door urging yourself to knock, and when you finally worked up the courage you almost ran out of there.

"Hey, you paged me," you said looking into the office.

She was sitting at her desk, looking much better than a few days earlier. Although overall she always looked good which was unfair.

"Can we, ummm... talk about what happened?" She asked looking at you with a slight site of embarrassment in her eyes.

"Oh, sure. Why not?" you said ironically. "So I told you I have a crush and you looked at me like I was crazy, then I felt like I actually was, so I left and been avoiding you since then."

She stood up from the desk and faced you. You both breathed loudly.

"I didn't look at you like you were crazy!"

"You know when was the last time I said I liked someone!?" Now you both raised your voices. "What are you doing?" you asked confused when she came so close that you could feel her breath on your face.

"Would you just stand still?" She asked and came close enough that your lips touched in a kiss.

At that moment you thought you could fly. Your knees bent under you as soon as her hands reached your hair. God she kissed so well. Her lips were softer than anything you've ever known. It was sweet, effortlessly sweet. You wrapped your arms around her waist, her hands were in your hair. You lost yourself in her.

You break the kiss. You felt dizzy. You swear you could still feel her lips on yours. You were breathless for a moment, the silence was now filled only by your breathing.

"You..." you whispered.

"I didn't know what to say, y/n. I've never been with a woman... It's just so confusing because, I would know what I should've done that day, if you were a man but you're not and... I like you, I never even thought about falling in love with a woman. It's just... You're so caring, beautiful, smart... I..." Her eyes were running all over the room.

"Look at me," you breathed. Her blue eyes finally looked straight into yours. "God your eyes are so beautiful." You ran your thumb over her cheek. "We don't have to rush anything. Baby steps, okay?" you asked her and she nodded.

"Baby steps." She bit her lip. "Now, please kiss me." You smirked and pulled her closer to finally put your lips in a long kiss.

[onmyyan]

Okay so there's this specific genre of fics about the Yandere batfamily x neglected!Reader that I'm obsessing over and basically, reader joins the family unexpectedly, usually a long lost kid from an old fling of Bruce's, and it's wonderfully angsty as the batfamily is so caught up in their own shit they inadvertently ignore/neglect the reader, the isolation is bad because they don't show her their vigilante life, so she's just sees it as some secret family club she isn't good enough to be in, they're always together and talking in hushed whispers about their patrol's, it's hard not to feel like an outsider, the tension is high throughout the years as she sees them act so lovingly towards each other but so indifferent towards her, and then something happens, (reader gets hurt, tries to run away, is kidnapped ECT) and then the batfam's yandere tendencies kick into high gear and they try to fix their severely damaged relationship, lawd I love this concept so much if I write it I'll be tagging the works that inspired me bec everyone should read them omg, anyway I love how jarring it must be once that switch happens, how all of a sudden reader is getting the attention and love she wanted for years, only now she doesn't need it, she's a grown independent woman who's only ever had herself to rely on, after all when you grow up in the shade of such a tight knit family, always on the outside looking in, it tends to make you self sufficient.

I have a few ideas for this concept, one where reader is incredibly smart and after years of fighting for an ounce of affection, gives up on the Batfamily, gets an internship at Lexcorp because Lex recognized her brilliance, he becomes a Yandere for her shortly after reading over her file, because the thought of Yandere!batfam begging for readers attention and affection after years of indifference towards her only to have her seek comfort in a villainous man like Lex Luthor is tew tasty.

My other idea for this concept is the same set up only Reader notices what the family is up to, quickly putting together that her father is Batman and that everyone in the house is a vigilante, she's 17/18 at this point and still desperate to belong to this family so she starts training, going to local gyms and picking fights so she can get used to getting the shit kicked out of her, no one notices her absences, no one but Alfred, he catches her limping in at some ungodly hour, blood seeping through her shirt, a needle and thread in one hand as she clumsily tries to stitch herself up, he asks her what happened, not expecting the most demure and quiet member of the family in this state, she tells him in an empty voice, "Doesn't matter." And Alfred is taken aback by the coldness in her eyes. He of course reports this to Bruce after patching her up, and he shrugs it off, "If she was in some kind of trouble she'd say something." Bruce is certain, sure he hadn't yet truly bonded with his daughter but he was sure he had time to, after all he was a man with the world on his shoulders and a plethora of other people who he felt needed his attention more, (y/n) never gave him problems, she kept to herself and was so self sufficient he felt comfortable putting her on the back burner, years go by and now 23, reader has shaped herself into a proper vigilante, her fighting style is raw, pure anger in her punches, she takes care of Gotham, sure she's not fighting world ending threats, but she's saving people, helping, it's helped to fill the void in her chest where her family's love was supposed to go, the batfamily knows about this new vigilante but know nothing about them, the suit reader wears is tactical that hides everything about her identity, not sure how but she gets unmasked/ hurt and unmasked and they find out, cue Yandere Batfamily.

[skyrim-forever]

WIP Wednesday

Hello everyone, happy Wednesday <3 This will be my last wip until two weeks time due to the holiday so we'll get back to normal Jan 1st. Starting the new year off right :)

Thank you for the tag @hircines-hunter <3

Tagging: @bougainvillea-and-saltwater @theoneandonlysemla @dirty-bosmer @thequeenofthewinter @pocket-vvardvark

@firefly-factory @changelingsandothernonsense @ladytanithia @lucien-lachance @scholarlyhermit @captain-of-silvenar

Theodora's children have taken over my brain and I got this silly idea of Arthano visiting Ceri at the CoW while she is working under Faralda in Destruction. Though she notices he's acting odd, not like himself... he's so real for this love older women under the cut because long EDIT: He has blood on him from fighting a bear earlier he's fine don't worry about him

Whilst they are chatting in the main courtyard, her explaining the three different towers and what they contained, her mentor approaches them. 

“Hello Professor Faralda, how are you this afternoon?” There’s a notable change in her brother’s, suddenly standing taller as he removes the bloodied gloves, holding them behind his back as though he were hiding them. 

“I’m quite well, Ceridwen.” A soft smile towards her before turning to him. “Ah, you must be Arthano, your sister mentioned her brother would be visiting.” 

“Yes, I am Ceridwen’s brother, pleasure to meet you Professor Faralda.” Ceridwen? Ata and Ricardo called that, Mother only doing so in formal settings; her eldest sibling never used her full name. Only ever Ceri. It felt foreign hearing it in his voice, saying it casually like it was the norm for them. Now that she thinks more on it, everything he said sounded unlike him. Far too formal to come naturally from the lovable but brash man she knew him to be. Here he was using the type of speech they made fun of others for, especially their brother. Even on serious occasions, he had a habit of making jokes out of anything and everything; now very polite.  

“I’ve been told you are a mage yourself, a conjurer specifically.” Gesturing with his hand, the older continues with his odd speech, adding mannerism to the mixture as well. 

“Yes, I mostly work with bound weapons but I’ve dabbled a bit in Destruction myself. Nowhere near Ceridwen but not inexperienced.” Dabbled? Is that what he calls it?

“What spells in particular? Electromacy like your sister?” 

“I mostly stay in the realm of pyromancy.” Repeated use of the Flames spell because he coulded be bothered to learn more is not exactly what she would refer to as pyromancy; Arthano was always one to stretch the truth. Faralda extends a similar smile to him now. 

“Hmm,, very interesting, I assume you’ll be accompanying Ceridwen to dinner this evening?” 

“Naturally of course.”

“Well, perhaps we all can discuss further then, I have some work to attend to now.” Turning to leave, the instructor makes one final comment. “Arthano?” 

“Yes Faralda?” Such a stupid grin wipes over his face. What is going on with him?

“You are very much as your sister described you. Though I’d wash the blood off before dinner.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Still caught up in how abnormal he’s being, it’s not until he opens his mouth again does she draw a conclusion. Fixing his posture, uncharacteristically proper tone, inflating his Destruction skills as if they were  No.

“Hmm, so you’ve mentioned me?” His eyes still watching Faralda leave she seizes the opportunity while he’s distracted. Ripping one of the gloves out of his hand, she whacks him with it. 

“No, no, no!” 

“What the fuck? I haven't done anything!” At last he is sounding like himself again. One more smack in the shoulder as she disregards what he is saying. “Help help, I’m being assaulted!”  

“I’m sorry I don’t want my brother trying to get with my advisor!” 

“I’m not trying to do anything, Ceri. Just introducing myself, I don’t know if you’ve heard but that is the polite thing to do when meeting someone for the first time.” Another smack as she throws the glove this time, letting him retrieve it from the snow. 

“Like I believe that,” In an attempt to mimic his voice she utters his own words back at him “I’ve also dabbled a bit in Destruction myself, please.” As he stands up, dawning the bloodied gloves once again. “It’s gross.” A smirk almost as stupid as his grin prior appears. 

“Well Ceri, that’s not nice to say about your professor. Respect your elders, she seems far from gross.” 

Ugh her brother strived to find the balance between charming and insufferable, something he was normally good at. Being naturally social had its benefits. Everyone could appreciate a good joke and if they couldn’t, well then he had no reason to bother with them further. Now however, knowing he had an interest in her mentor, the woman who had graciously taken her under her wing, makes her more annoyed than anything.

“You, you’re gross.” Briefly, her hands flex, forgetting she has already thrown the glove at him. “And she’s too old for you.” 

“Oh I wouldn’t say that, how old is she?” Brow raised in curiosity, the younger answers him before it occurs to he should not be given such details. 

“She’s one-hundred twenty something, don’t remember exactly.” 

“Oh we’re fine, less than a century apart. Barely noticeable even.” The gap between her and Ralos was barely noticeable, two years; Ninety-odd years was definitely something to take note of. But unfortunately this checked out for her brother, perhaps she can introduce him to someone else, maybe the bard at The Frozen Hearth. He had long, shiny, blonde hair. Very within his type.

“That’s a pretty large gap, Arthano.” He shrugs. 

“Well, Mother and Ata are what? One-hundred? One-hundred ten years apart? I’m doing well comparatively.” She stutters, trying to find the right words to shut him up, he is however, too quick for her. “Why is she a war criminal?” 

“What? No, absolutely not.” The College was a neutral organization, both faculty and students coming from across Tamriel for the purposes of advancing magical study. Conflicts were left at the gates, to imply anything different was a lie. But he’s not implying anything about the College, rather making a further comparison to their parents.  

"So I'm actually doing great."

“I should lock you in my dorm tonight and let you starve.”

[bullet-prooflove]

Breaking the Rules: Manny x Reader

Tagging: @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @withakindheartx @darqchilddaydreamz @theesirenteller @wnbweasley @sisinever @bonni-98 @skyesthebomb @delightfulbelieverwerewolf @redpool @trublu2u @fleureeee @thiashazzywriting @lauraaan182 @hatersaremymotivators @fanfic-n-tabulous @ravennaortiz @just-a-throw-away @yousigned-upforthis @kabloswrld @keyweegirlie @@katymae12344 @rampsen @pansexualhailstorm @wabi-sabi1090

LongDistance!Series:

Part One: Melina - Manny x Reader - Manny’s daughter wants to meet you.

Part Two: Club Business (feat: Hank Loza) - Manny finally sits down with Hank Loza to discuss his relationship with you.

Part Three: Home  - Manny realises what home means to you.

Everyone in Yuma knows that Manny has a woman. They have ever since he stopped sleeping with club girls as a way to vent his stress. He doesn’t get high, he doesn’t drink to excess, fucking was his only vice and even that had come with a set of rules.

Never take them home.

Never fuck them on a school night.

And none of them got introduced to his daughter.

He wants Melina as far away from that world as possible. He wants her to have positive role models, aspirations that go far beyond Yuma. He’s thinking NASA, curing cancer, building robots, the kind of shit she’s going to learn at Science Camp this summer.

What he doesn’t want are people like the club girls filling her head with ideas of how she needs a man to establish herself, to give her status.

The ideology is the product of a bygone era, one that Yuma is still struggling to find it’s way out of. He figures it’ll fade out the same way it did in Santo Padre with all the changes he’s been making but it’s slow going.

When it comes to you Manny breaks all of the rules. The moment you roll into town you’re staying at his place, the girls overhear Downer talking about the three of you having breakfast together, the crepes you make, apparently, they are out of this world. It becomes a regular thing on a Sunday because Downer and his wife, want to try everything you make because you’re ‘cultured’.

They see you around town with his daughter, the ice cream shop, the roller rink, the library. Most times with Manny but sometimes without and that’s the part that stings. Some of the club girls they’ve known him for years, you’re an outsider, an interloper and you fit into his life as if you’ve always been there.

Manny can tell your appearance in Yuma has ruffled some feathers. A few of the girls get extra attentive, lingering touches and salacious words, he’s dismissive of it. Most of them get the message, however there’s one, Tiana, the de facto leader that just doesn’t seem to get the hint. The two of them had fucked once before you’d come on the scene, he’d regretted it almost immediately. She’d been Canche’s favourite girl; looking to take up the mantle with him after he’d taken over the presidency.

He's having a smoke outside when she approaches him. He takes a drag of the cigarette, and she reaches out, tucking a hot pink, lace thong into the inner pocket of his kutte.

“I’ve got a girl.” He reminds her, plucking the underwear from his pocket and handing it back to her.

She pouts as she snatches them from his hand with a flourish.

“You used to like taking these off.” She reminds him, balling them up in her fist.

“Now I’d prefer it if you put them back on.” He says firmly, blowing out a stream of smoke. “And if you’d spread the word, I’m off the market.”

“You know things are getting real boring around here, no coke in the clubhouse, no weed, all the good dick is taken. Me and some of the girls have been talking about moving on from this shit hole.”

It’s meant to be provocative, a jab at his presidency but what Tiana doesn’t get is that he wants that. He wants every single one of those girls to either get their heads on straight or fuck off because he’s issuing in a new era, one where every single one of his brothers can earn safely without reprisal.

“You should do that.” He tells her taking another drag of her cigarette. “This place is only gonna become more boring moving forward.”

“Canche was a lot more fun.” She tells him and it riles something inside of him.

Canche had damn near run this club into the ground. He’d been unpredictable, unstable. He’d almost beat one of their prospects to death for not changing the oil in his bike fast enough. The drugs, the gambling, the violence, all of it had been dragging the club down, bleeding it out.

Manny shoots Tiana a dark look.

“Canche also used to beat on you.”

He’d seen the bruises, hell, he’d patched her up once or twice after Canche was done with her. She remembers that, he can tell.

“If you and the other girls want to move on, there’ll be no repercussions. You know I’m not about hurting women.” Manny tells her, stubbing out his cigarette on the banister of the porch before tilting his head towards the clubhouse. “Most of these guys are family men, they’re not looking for a side piece…”

“And Yuma’s most eligible bachelor has just gone off the market.” She says with a tight smile.

“Yea.” He says shrugging his shoulders. “You ain’t gonna be making old lady anytime soon, not in my club.”

Because that’s what Tiana wants, the status that comes with being someone’s old lady. She wants to be provided for, taken care of and if she has to endure men like Canche to get it, she will. She can see that her options are limited in Yuma.

“I want out.” She tells him as she leans back against the railing. “I’ll spread word to the other girls, tell them it’s an option.”

“You do that.” Manny says as he looks out into the darkness. “I don’t want anyone here who doesn’t want to be.”

Love Manny? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[leonrot]

— Wrong Place, Wrong Time

Summary: You never thought you'd meet the masked vigilante who protects the streets of New York and you certainly never thought you'd almost die from getting run over by weird rhinoceros.

Word Count: 2.2k

Pairing: Spider-Man!Leon Kennedy x Female!Reader

Tags: descriptions of injuries, hurt/comfort, alternate universe (spider-man)

A/N: this is inspired by this leon bot on c.ai and after rewatching the amazing spiderman i couldn't not write something about it. this is proofread by me yet again so apologies for any mistakes that i missed. also,, i don't believe there's anything suggesting the reader for this is female but i put marked as such anyways because if i write more about spiderman!leon i will end up using female terms and such. speaking of which if you want more spiderman!leon let me know, marvel is another one of my big interests so id love to expand on this idea more!!

Sitting at a table in the diner you and Leon frequent you slump down in your chair, huffing in annoyance as Leon’s voicemail greeting hits your ear.

Hi, this is Leon Kennedy, I can’t come to the phone right now so please leave a message after the beep.

This is the third time you’ve tried calling him this past hour alone, your roommate supposed to have been meeting you at the diner you both frequent multiple times each week. You’re used to him being late, but you’ve been waiting for over an hour and by now he would have usually texted or called to explain why he’s running late.

Wrapping your hand around the glass of water sitting before you, you bring the rim of the glass to your lips, taking a sip as you gaze out the diner’s front windows.

Despite nighttime being on the horizon the streets of Queens are as busy as the rest of New York is, people constantly in a hurry to be somewhere. The inside of the diner is peaceful, the sounds of the conversing patrons a quiet murmur alongside the gentle hum of various machines back in the kitchen.

A barely started book lays before you, Leon’s tardiness having drawn your attention from the pages. It’s common that you join him at the diner to read while he catches up on work. You find comfort in being in his presence, even if his attention is focused on editing some of the numerous photos he’s taken recently.

As your mind drifts and you lose focus of your surroundings you don’t realize the mood around you shifting rapidly.

“Holy shit!” A guy sitting a table away from you yells, startling you out of your thoughts.

You glance his way confused, but a loud bang and the sudden surge of shouting has your head snapping back towards the diner’s front windows.

The people outside are running, the fear on their face as clear as day. The table you’re sitting at starts shaking, the ground underneath your feet vibrating in time with the rhythmic BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! that is steadily getting closer and closer. It sets everyone into an explosive panic, people trying to gather their things before darting out of the diner.

You’re quick to shove your book into the bag that hangs off the back of your chair, the force of you standing up nearly knocking the aforementioned piece of furniture over. You squeeze past people as you rush to exit the building, heart racing at everyone else’s fear. Skidding to a halt on the sidewalk outside your gaze is drawn to the left, looking down the street.

Cars are swerving all over the road, desperate to get away from something. Something big.

A huge man in a metal rhinoceros shaped suit comes barreling down the road, everything around him shaking with each heavy step he takes. There’s something — more like someone — hanging onto his back, a flash of red and blue bright against dark gray metal. You immediately recognize the colors belonging to New York’s very own masked vigilante, Spider-Man.

You’re frozen in place, wide eyes watching the scene unfold before you. Spider-Man leaps off the back of the man (if he can still even be called that), shooting web after web towards the rampaging villain. It does very little to slow him down and you realize a moment too soon that the swerving monstrosity of a man is heading straight your way.

Your bag dropping to the concrete sidewalk is the only movement you’re able to make, fear rendering you paralyzed. As he gets closer and closer you can’t help but think that this will be the end of you, death by rhino shaped man.

Luckily for you, Spider-Man is incredibly good at his job.

Lean arms wrap around your waist and lift you off the ground, swinging you away from the quickly approaching danger. The Rhino barrels past, his metal clad shoulder connecting with Spider-Man’s back as he gains momentum with his web swing, sending the two of you flying down the street.

You don’t know if it’s fast reflexes or pure luck that has your red and blue hero curling around your body before the two of you connect with the asphalt road, his back taking the brunt of the fall. The air is ripped from your lungs at the impact, your head swimming with dizziness as you’re quickly yanked to your feet.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Spider-Man franticly asks you, his head lowering as he tries to meet your gaze.

Your muscles are screaming at you from the impact, you’re short of breath and you’re sure you have at least one or two scrapes from the rough road but you’re alive. You glance up at his mask’s white scleras and nod.

You see a slight shift in the fabric of his mask, as if he’s opening his mouth to start speaking up but a thundering roar cuts him off. The Rhino is pulling himself out of the rubble of the diner, his sights quickly settling on the two of you.

“Stay out of the way!” Spider-Man yells to you as he runs straight towards the villain.

The fight picks up once more, Spider-Man getting thrown and tossed around but getting up immediately each time. You’re so enraptured by the fight you don’t even notice the cops arrive until a hand is wrapping around your bicep and pulling you away from the destruction.

“You need to get out of here!” The cop barks at you. “Now!”

“So I can’t get a ride?” You grumble, watching the officer run to join the others in the fight.

As you quickly leave the scene you can’t help but spare a glance over your shoulder, watching Spider-Man swing around from building to building evading dodges like he knows they’re coming. Turning away you pick up the pace, thankful that you only live a handful of blocks away from the now destroyed cafe.

After roughly an hour of walking - although it feels longer due to the dull pain throbbing all over your body - you make it home. You barely remember to close the door before you’re dropping onto the couch, letting sleep pull you under.

You shoot up from where you lay sprawled out on the couch, the sound of the front door slamming shut startling you awake. Disoriented you whip your head around, eyes not yet focused.

“Oh my god, are you okay!?” Leon’s voice is right next to you, his knees hitting the wood floor of the  living room with a dull thud.

As your vision sharpens you’re finally able to take in Leon’s appearance. Your eyes widen in surprise and concern at his poor state.

“Are you okay? Jesus Leon, what happened to you?”

His left eye is a mottled mess of dark blues and purples, the black eye stark against his skin. The bruising trails down his cheek and jaw, stopping near his split bottom lip, spots of blood still fresh around the wound.

“You first. Do you need anything? Water? Advil?” He’s standing with a pained wince, limping in the direction of the kitchen.

“Leon! Slow down!” You snap, throwing your legs over the edge of the couch as you get up after him, biting back your own groan of pain.

He’s grabbing a cup out of the cabinet when you make it into the kitchen, filling it up with shaky hands. When you reach his side you grab the cup out of his hand and set it down onto the counter. You grab onto his arm to get his attention. When he finally looks at you his eyes are shiny, wet with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry.”

Your heart breaks at the sadness in his voice.

“If I had been there on time you wouldn’t have been alone in that shit show, probably wouldn’t even be hurt right now.”

Despite the protesting of your muscles you’re quick to pull him into a hug which is immediately reciprocated. His arms wrap around your waist drawing you in tight to his chest. He drops his head to your shoulder, warmth seeping into the fabric of your t-shirt as he sucks in a harsh breath.

“I’m alright, Leon. A little banged up and bruised, but alive. You being late is not the reason I got hurt, it was simply wrong place wrong time.”

Your hand rubs up and down his back in a gesture of comfort, hoping the contact helps ease his misplaced guilt. Your hands trail up his back and over his shoulders, each hand settling on one of his biceps as you pull away.

“Now tell me what happened to you.”

With a sniffle he blinks away stray tears as he meets your eyes. A lapse of silence fills the room before he speaks.

“I was on my way to you. Got caught up in the fight before it reached the diner.”

His words still hold a trace of guilt in them, but you chalk it up to him still feeling like he’s responsible for the state you’re in.

You give him a small smile, hoping to ease the heavy emotions residing in the room with as you say, “Guess you were also in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

It works when Leon rolls his eyes, a smile of his own tugging at his lips. “Guess so.”

Pulling away from him you grab the cup still sitting on the counter and hand it to Leon. Bending down you unearth a med-kit that’s kept underneath the sink. You’ve always found it a little odd how Leon insists on keeping fully stocked first aid kits all over the house — one in the kitchen, one in each bathroom and in each of your rooms — but you’re glad for it in this moment as you open it and pull out the advil.

You open the bottle and pass him two of the pills before grabbing your own cup of water and two pills for yourself.

“As someone who has watched half a season of Grey’s Anatomy, I think we should take these and get some sleep.” Your light-hearted words help ease the tension even more.

After taking the pain relievers you and Leon trudge to your respective rooms to get ready for the night. Cutting your nighttime routine short in favor of getting into bed faster, you make quick but careful work of changing out of your clothes and brushing your teeth. A brush is running through your hair as a knock echoes through the small bathroom you’re standing in.

“Can I ask you a favor?”

Leon’s leaning against the doorway of the bathroom when you finally look up at him.

“Maybe. What’s up?”

He shuffles a bit where he stands and he averts his gaze before he speaks.

“Can I sleep in your room tonight?”

You can’t help the way your eyes widen a fraction at his request.

It was about a year ago when you found an online ad of someone looking for a roommate. You were hesitant to agree, Leon was of course a stranger at the time, but you were in desperate need of a new place to live so you sent him a message pretty quickly to see if he was still searching for a roommate.

He had warned you the first night after you moved in that he had frequent nightmares. As the two of you got closer and closer overtime you went from waking him up with a gentle shake to his shoulder to crawling into bed with him, holding him close to help him fall back asleep after waking up in fear.

He’s never been the one to seek you out in regards to his nightmares however, and his request leads you to believe he anticipates having one tonight. Sadness squeezes at your heart.

“Of course you can.”

Still not looking at you he nods in acknowledgement before turning and leaving your room, you assume to go finish up getting ready to sleep.

He comes back into your room right as your crawling into bed. No longer wearing the hoodie he was in when he came home you can see even more bruises on his arms. You wouldn’t be surprised if the bruises extend across his torso, leading you to wonder just how caught up he was in the destruction caused by Rhino.

He’s hovering by the doorway as if he’s unsure he’s even allowed in your room despite having your permission. You throw back the comforter, uncovering the spot meant for him.

“C’mon Lee, it’s cold.”

It’s not really that cold in your room but the excuse helps nonetheless.

The mattress dips as he gets into your bed. Reaching up you flip off your bedside lamp, plunging the room in almost total darkness. The world seems to slow down as the two of you find safety in each others presence.

“Goodnight.” You murmur with a soft yawn, squirming around a little bit to find a comfortable way to lay with your aching muscles.

You can’t help but momentarily roll over onto your back as you get no reply from Leon. When your eyes adjust to darkness of your room you see him curled up tightly under the blanket, fast asleep. You smile to yourself as you roll back over and let sleep encompass you as quickly as it did Leon.

[humanpurposes]

My Heart Belongs to Daddy, part vii (final)

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist // this godforsaken mess that you made me

modern!Aemond x step-daughter

Warnings: 18+, angst, smut

Words: 9k

A/n: Sorry it's been a month since I updated this but we made it to the end!! Just wanna say thank you to everyone who's followed along, liked, commented on and reblogged this series, I've been so overwhelmed by the amazing responses to this, just all the love 🖤 Also available to read on AO3.

It’s easy to forget just how fucking freezing King’s Landing can be in December. She pulls her leather jacket a little tighter around herself but there’s not much she can do about the cold stabbing at her legs through her fishnets— why the fuck had she worn a mini dress in the first place? It falls a little higher up her thighs than she wants it to and the bust just doesn’t fit quite right, but she supposes she has to commit now. She at least counts herself lucky that it’s not snowing.

She looks down at the pavement as it moves underneath her black boots. There’s her second mistake— one cocktail past her usual limit. Now she feels aware but somehow numb. She finds wonder in everything around her, the glare of colourful lights on the outside of the bars they rush past, the pulsing of music from every direction, the smells of smoke, vapes, and that distinct, sharp scent of winter.

She had met Baela, Rhaena, Jace and their friends at a pub near the train station. Being the last to arrive, she sat at the edge of the table. It wasn’t a big group but that only made her more nervous. The other girls introduced themselves as Coryanne, Jeyne, Jess and Floris, all beautiful, all dressed immaculately. She told them her name and they said a unanimous “hi!” but other than that it was hard to talk to them while they gossiped about people she didn’t know and reminisced memories she had no part in. Even Jace was distracted; he was clearly all over Coryanne and spent the entire evening trying too hard to make her laugh.

So she kept ordering cocktails, a different one each time, downing them in quick succession and waiting for the evening to pass.

She keeps telling herself this was a good idea. She needs the distraction, anything to get her mind off the obvious.

The others are all walking ahead of her, and she has to keep sight of them because she has no idea where Dracarys actually is. Baela keeps looking over her shoulder every so often, to check on her she assumes. She gives her a nod and a polite smile, but when Baela turns around, her face falls back to a comfortable frown. She doesn’t mean to look miserable, but she can’t help it. It must be so obvious that she doesn’t belong with these people. She’s just a stray they’ve picked up out of pity.

They turn a corner and suddenly half the street is taken up with a queue of impatient looking people, all in smart shirts and party dresses. Baela calls her name and grabs her hand, pulling her along after the rest of their group.

“Surely this isn’t the line for Dracarys?” she says.

Baela chuckles and keeps marching ahead.

They walk along the queue for a good few minutes. Suddenly they reach an old building with columns and a bell tower. It looks like it could be a Sept or a museum, until she registers the glaring red lights, the tall braziers marking either side of the entrance and the neon logo of a dragon against a blue flame.

Apparently tagging along with not one but two Targaryens has its benefits. Baela keeps her close and their whole group breezes past the bouncers without being asked for ID or charged for entry.

“Dad’s a co-owner,” Baela says in her ear as they walk towards the front steps. She can already feel the bass of the music rattling in her chest.

There’s a smoking area at the bottom of the steps, cornered off from the street by tall hedges and iron gates. It’s dotted with mostly pairs of people, each engrossed in their own conversations.

As Baela leads her up the steps she notices a solitary figure, obscured by shadows, leaning against the wall with his back slightly curved and his chin tilted down. He lights a cigarette. The flicker of flame lights up the sharp features of his face and his silver hair.

Fuck.

Aemond’s not even a club kind of guy. He hates the dancing and the “shitty” music. He likes metal concerts and late-night conversations, preferably somewhere you can actually hear the person next to you.

A plume of smoke billows from his lips, and for whatever reason, he glances towards the front steps.

After a double take, his eyes meet hers, wide and curious.

She only realises she’s stopped walking when Baela tugs on her hand. “You coming or what?” she says over her shoulder, trying to keep up with the others.

She can’t take her eyes off him. Of all the places he could have spent New Years, why does he have to be here?

Don’t engage.

His back straightens as he takes his weight off the wall.

Let go.

She shakes her head and snaps herself out of whatever trance she’s under.

She’ll just ignore him. As long as she sticks with Balea and Jace, everything will work out fine. Surely.

The inside of the club is vast like the nave of the Grand Sept. It has a high vaulted ceiling and an enormous stained-glass window on the farthest wall from the doors.

The floor before them is a sea of bodies in flashy outfits, moving in time to a low, synthy song. Colourful lights cut through the darkness, giving the faces an eerie glow. A few groups linger around the edges of the room, drinking cocktails and taking shots in booths around glass tables. At the end of the hall, under the stained-glass window, is the bar, illuminated with red lights.

Baela keeps a tight hold of her hand as they all fight their way to the bar. Someone orders for her and the bartender places a shot glass of vibrant blue liquor in front of her. Rhaena screams “Happy New Year!” as the others cheers their glasses together.

She holds her up to the light before she downs it, wincing at the sickly, sweet and sour tang it leaves on her tongue.

Her heart thunders in her chest, confused by the music and the sense of dread pooling in her stomach.

Aemond is here.

She’s supposed to be ignoring him, and she had been doing a good job of it so far.

Until that fucking call on Christmas Eve.

What did he think was going to happen? Six months of nothing, then one phone call and she was going to come running back to him?  

But she had already proved that she can’t say no to him, the night of the dinner party, while Alys and Cregan were only in adjacent rooms. All it had taken was his hands on her hips, his breath on her neck, a few harshly whispered words and the promise of a quick fuck. It was enough for her to give in, consequences be damned.

She looks back at doors on the other side of the room. She tells herself she’s not looking for a head of silver hair, but it isn’t much good lying to herself. One look at him outside a club and she can feel that hollow feeling in her chest, an emptiness that Aemond has always been able to fill so perfectly.

“How could I ever stop wanting you?”

“I just know these last couple of months have been fucking unbearable without you.”

Would he say the same now?

Rhaena screams again. She doesn’t catch what she says, but the answer to that is evident when Aegon and Daeron materialise from the crowd, hugging Rhaena, Baela and some of the girls. Jace’s face hardens and he puts his arm around Coryanne’s shoulders.

Then Aegon’s eyes come to her. “Fancy seeing you here!” she shouts into her ear over the music.

She can’t stop herself. “Is Aemond with you?” 

Aegon glances towards the door. “He went outside for a fag.” He runs his tongue over his teeth and furrows his brow. “How are things with you and your mum?”

She frowns. “Why?”

Aegon’s eyes widen and he laughs to himself to play it off. “Just asking, I thought things might be a bit awkward what with… everything that’s gone on.”

“Everything?”

He pauses. “Him and Alys.”

“Right,” she says.

He doesn’t say anything else, but he’s looking at her like he’s trying to read her mind.

She hates not knowing what other people are thinking, and it only adds to her growing restlessness. Aemond wouldn’t tell Aegon about them, would he? But part of her thinks Aegon would use the opportunity to be more of a dick about it if he knew.

They find a booth and file in. Jace is clearly trying to avoid Aegon; he sits between Coryanne and Daeron. Baela is polite with both of her cousins and Rhaena is friendly, but maybe that’s just the booze. Either way, Aegon is a charmer, and slots himself nicely beside Floris. Jenye and Jess are all over each other, whispers into each other’s ears becoming kisses to their cheeks, necks and mouths.

She slips off her jacket and sits at the end of the table, alone. It's like being at the pub all over again.

Until she spots someone walking towards their table.

Aemond stops, his eyes only on her. No one else seems to have noticed him yet.

She looks across the table, at the only empty space left.

His chest rises and his nostrils flare. He slowly sits opposite her, keeping his shoulders tense and his hands in fists.

She wishes she had a drink in front of her, if only to have something to do. She moves between having her hands on and under the table, unable to keep her fingers still. She bounces her leg, messes with her hair, tries to focus on fragments of conversation drifting from the others.

Then something brushes against her, under the table. She freezes, but relaxes as she feels Aemond’s leg settling against hers. She glances across at him while pretending to listen to something Rhaena’s talking about. Aemond holds her gaze, leaning against the back of the booth with a solemn look on his face.

She can feel his breath on her hands as he exhales a deep breath.

Baela insists that she wants to dance, and so does Rhaena. They drag Daeron with them and disappear into the mass of dancers. Aemond has to stand to let them out, and when he sits back down his leg brushes against hers again.

It’s so painfully obvious that everyone at the table is coupled up, Jace and Coryanne, Aegon and Floris, Jeyne and Jess. Aemond seems to be trying not to pay attention to any of them. He angles his head in the other direction.

She lets her eyes wander along the tightness of his jaw, the tendons in his neck, and the glint of a silver chain beneath his shirt.

She presses her lips together.

Don’t engage.

Don’t do anything stupid.

But maybe she should have thought of that before the cocktails.

She leans forward on her elbows, but as she opens her mouth to speak, Aemond calls Aegon’s name.

“Drink?” he mimes.

She doesn’t see Aegon’s reply. Aemond’s eyes move over her before he stands and heads towards the bar. Suddenly her leg feels cold at the absence.

A particularly loud giggle catches her attention. She looks down the table. Aegon is leaning into Floris’ ear with a dark look in his eye and she’s smiling, but he’s watching her. His eyes flicker over to the bar, and he grins.

Fucking pricks. The pair of them.

Only when she stands up does she realise how dizzy she is, but she ignores it, and makes her way through the crowd until she finds Baela, Rhaena and Daeron. She grabs Baela’s hands, less dancing, more stepping and swaying to the music.

But she keeps ending up turning her head towards the bar. It’s easy to spot Aemond, he towers over most of the people here, his silver hair gleaming under the red lights.

“I didn’t know they were going to be here,” Baela shouts into her ear, “it’s not too awkward is it?”

The music doesn’t make sense to her. It’s just noise. Everything is just frantic noise, and she can’t stand it. She feels restless, and so fucking angry. She wants to dig her nails into her palms. She wants to cry. She wants to scream.

“It’s fine!” she shouts back, “So fucking fine!”

She looks back to the bar. Aemond is at the front of the queue now.

“I need a drink,” she says, not loud enough for Baela to hear.

His name is a gentle hum in her throat as she gets closer to him, weaving her way through the other bodies in the crowd. She doesn’t care when they tell her to get in line and wait her turn. She keeps her eyes fixed on him.

Until he’s close enough to touch.

She watches her hand reach for his shoulder.

He turns his head around with a sharp look of surprise, but it melts away when he realises it’s her.

He mouths her name but she doesn’t hear it. He brushes his fingertips against the bare skin of her arm and she feels weightless. He’s looking at her. She can feel his heat through his shirt.

Until he withdraws his hand with an irritated huff. He leans into her until their noses are inches apart. Even in the low light of the club his eyes are only marginally blue, and she smells whisky on his breath. “Don’t start this again,” he says over the music.

She scowls until her face hurts. “You called me.”

“And you didn’t pick up.”

Her heart shatters. She thought she had done the right thing, but it seems a common occurrence with Aemond that nothing is ever right.

“It was a mistake,” he says sharply, “a stupid fucking mistake. Just forget it.”

He brushes her hand from his shoulder and storms off towards the front doors.

Panic and confusion courses through her. It feels worse because she’s drunk, she knows that, but it still hurts.

Her eyes start to sting as one song ends and another begins. It’s one everyone in the room seems to recognise.

She fights her way back to the booth and grabs her jacket, slipping it over her arms.

Jeyene and Jess are gone, and Jace and Coryanne have found their way to the dancefloor. Floris and Aegon are the only ones left, her legs draped over his lap.

“Leaving so soon?” Aegon coos.

She doesn’t spare him any of her attention. She tries to spot Aemond as she makes her way to the doors on unsure legs.

What if he’s already left? What if this is it, and he never so much as tries to speak to her again? What if she finds him and he pushes her away?

“Five minutes to midnight, ladies and gentlemen!” a voice booms through the speakers. Moving through the room is like swimming against the current as more people make their way to the dance floor, but she manages to make it to the doors.

The cold air hits her suddenly. It burns in her lungs and bites at her skin. The front steps and the street below her are quiet now, and so is the smoking area. Save for one person.

Aemond sits on a bench, hunched over himself, flicking his lighter, but never lighting a cigarette.

He looks up when she stops in front of him, his lips slightly parted, the red lights casting shadows in the angles of his chin and cheeks, and his nose.

“Are you seriously running away from me?” she says.

His mouth is in a thin line. He keeps flicking the lighter open and shut, open and shut. “You seemed happy enough avoiding me before.”

“Before? Before what? Before you left me in a hotel room?”

Aemond groans and rubs his fingers over his temple. “I’m not sober enough to have this conversation.”

“No, you’d rather ignore me for the rest of your life.”

“Look, I just want to go about doing things the right way—”

“I think we’re way fucking past that now.”

He groans. “What do you want me to do then?” he says, his voice laced with spite.

“Take some fucking responsibility!” she cries, louder than she means to.

He takes her off guard when he stands and steps into her. She takes a step back, and he keeps walking, until her back meets a wall. “And what does responsibility look like, hmm?” He places a hand beside her head leans in further still, until all she sees is the furious look in his eyes. “I called and you didn’t pick up. I try to keep my distance and look at you, you’re still practically begging for my attention.”

“Once,” she utters. “You called me once in six months.”

“And if I had tried before, after the dinner, after I left Alys, would you have listened to me?”

Her head lolls into her shoulder. All she remembers of that day is her mum, screaming and crying, storming upstairs and slamming her bedroom door. She stood there, in the kitchen, hands shaking, tears streaming down her face and her heartbeat pulsing in her head.

Her entire world had come crumbling down. Her mother hated her, and she was going to have to break things off with Cregan, and Aemond was gone. If he had called her then, she doesn’t know if she would have been able to manage a single word.

“No,” she says.

Her heart leaps as he takes her chin in his fingertips and tilts her gaze up to him.

He looks down at her with challenge, his eyes squinted slightly, lips in a smug pout. “What do you want me to do? How do I make this right?”

Her hands press against his chest, hypnotised as it rises and falls with each breath he takes. Then her eyes move to his mouth, that perfecting fucking mouth— it’s her favourite feature of his, she decides, the telling twitches of his lips and the way they feel against her skin.

Aemond clamps his hands over her wrists. “See?” he says in a low voice. “You think you’re so righteous, so perfect, but you’re just too fucking needy.”

She surges into him, grazing his lips with hers before he pulls away.

He keeps a tight grip on her wrists, and stares at her with wide eyes.

Only for him to come crashing into her, returning the favour with his own harsh and bruising kiss. He’s desperate and unforgiving, cupping her face with his hands so she has no choice but to let it consume her.

And she lets him. She lets him graze her lips with his teeth, slip his tongue into her mouth and steal the very air from her lungs.

The faint but familiar taste of whisky burns on her tongue. It’s thrilling and grounding all at once.

When they finally part from each other, he rests his forehead against hers. They glare at each other as they try to catch their breaths.

She can still feel the beat of the music from inside the club, and a voice over the speaker, gearing up for the countdown for the New Year.

“I meant it when I told you I loved you,” she says. “It’s not how I wanted to say it, but it was the truth.”

Aemond takes a harsh breath and runs his hand over his forehead, through his hair. “I can’t do this now,” he whispers.

She leans further into the wall, only to find she can’t get away from him. She pushes against his chest, but all her strength is gone.

Aemond takes a small step away from her. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I’m not thinking straight I…”

She doesn’t listen to him. She can’t, not past the pounding in her head, the retching feeling in her stomach and the crowd inside the club as they start to chant.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

“You must have known how much you meant to me,” she says. Her voice is clear and her tears are effortless.

“Seven! Six! Five!”

“And what did you do with it? You left me with nothing…”

“Four! Three! Two!”

“You showed me something I’ve never known and then you took it away, only to drag me back in…”

The world erupts around them. Every single voice in the city screams as midnight hits, fireworks and flares soar into the sky and burst with colour, light and noise.

“And I feel so stupid because I let you do it. But I still don’t understand… why do you have to be so fucking cruel? What did I do wrong?”

Aemond looks back at her with a face of agony. Flashes of green, red and gold glisten in his eyes.

“I thought I mattered to you,” she says.

“You did. You still do.”

Her head must be about to burst. She chokes on a sob and cradles her head in her hands.

She keeps her eyes on the floor as Aemond steps into her, and when he wraps his arms around her, she doesn’t have the energy to pull away.

“I’m so tired.” She says it over and over again.

There doesn’t seem to be a moment where they make an agreement, but she lets Aemond pry her hands from her face and lead her onto the street. He tucks her jacket tighter around her arms while he mutters about how cold it is.

She doesn’t feel the cold against her skin, but she can feel herself shivering and her teeth chattering.

A car pulls up to the pavement. Aemond opens the rear door and ushers her inside. It’s warm inside, and the seats are soft. He sits beside her and she falls into him. She closes her eyes, letting the motions and the hum of the engine lull her to a place between waking and sleeping.

Aemond’s gently shakes her awake when the car stops. Wherever he’s brought her, it’s quiet, and once the car disappears down the street, it’s almost silent.

Something cold lands on her cheek. She brushes it away and it melts under her fingers. She looks up, at heavy snowflakes against the streetlights, blinking them from her eyes as they fall.

Aemond takes her hand and she holds it tightly. The dusting of snow crunches under her boots as they walk, a short way along the street and up a series of steps. He doesn’t let go of her as he takes a set of keys out of his pocket and unlocks the door.

He marches her up a seemingly endless number of stairs before they come to a corridor, and another door. It’s dark on the other side, and it smells like him.

She blinks as her eyes adjust to the lack of light. Tall windows make up most of the outer facing walls, and King’s Landing lays out before them. They must be on the outskirts of the city, given how quiet it is, but she can see everything from here, the lights on Conquest Street, the silhouettes of the Red Keep and the Grand Sept, fireworks and lanterns, and the void that is Blackwater Bay beyond the docks.

Aemond leads her through another door. She winces when he turns on a light, but as her vision starts to settle, she realises it’s a bedroom. She’s drawn to the bed like a magnet, collapsing against the duvet.

“Shoes,” Aemond says.

She kicks her boots off and tosses her jacket on the floor. She curls her face into the pillow. It occurs to her that she hasn’t taken her makeup off, but she’s too tired to really care.

Aemond won’t let her sleep yet. He hands her a glass of water and waits for her to drink a few sips. Then he takes it from her and hands her a t-shirt.

“No…” she drawls, falling back against the bed, “wanna sleep.”

“Please,” Aemond says softly.

She drags herself up, fumbling to undo the zip on her dress. She pulls it over her head and rids herself of her bra and fishnets and lifts her arms up for Aemond to help her into the t-shirt. That smells like him too.

“Better?” he says.

She won’t give him the satisfaction. She crawls underneath the duvet, and by the time the light switches off and the door closes, she’s already half asleep.

The first feeling that hits her is a dull ache pulsing in her head.

Then comes a dry feeling in her throat.

Then a nauseating kind of hunger.

And then dread.

Her eyes dart open; it’s still dark in here, wherever here is.

She looks down at the Pink Floyd t-shirt hanging off her. It’s too broad in the shoulders to be hers.

Her lips feel strange. She trails her fingertips over them and squints, just makeing out the shape of her dress and her boots on the floor.

The memories start to fade into view, like a fog lifting from her mind. The pub, the club, the loneliness, and Aemond…

“Fuck,” she hisses.

She’s still a little dizzy as she drags herself from the bed. She finds her phone in her jacket, on the last legs of its battery. 8:55, 1st January glares up at her on the screen, along with texts and missed calls from Baela, Rhaena, Jace and Alys.

“Fuck!”

She grabs the glass of water on the bedside table and treads softly along the hardwood floor, to the door.

She hovers her hand over the handle. She’ll have to come out eventually, might as well get it over with.

The bedroom leads out to an open living space she doesn’t recognise in the slightest. In the corner there’s a kitchen and a small dining table with four chairs, then the rest of the room holds two sofas, a coffee table, a record player, plenty of bookshelves and by the window, a desk and a prayer plant with a ribbon tied around its pot.

None of the lights are on and from what she can tell, Aemond isn’t even here. The room is lit only by daylight. Beyond the windows, the sky is a dull grey and King’s Landing is covered in snow.

Nothing about the apartment is disorderly, expect perhaps for the extensive collection of shoes and coats by the door, most of them black with the odd item of brown for some variety.

The only photos on display are on the desk. One is of Alicent and Helaena, both in pale blue jeans and white blouses, with gentle smiles their arms around each other. Another is of Aegon and Daeron sitting by the pool at Dragonstone. The final one is of an arched, stone bridge, which she recognises immediately as Roseroad Bridge in Oldtown. It’s lined with statues of famous Maesters, Steptons and members of the Hightower family, and she walks along it every day to get from her apartment to uni.

He has his own place now then. She wonders if he moved in right after he left Queen’s Park.

She resists the urge to run her fingers along the desk, or over the closed cover of a notebook and the ink pen beside it.

Her head snaps towards the front door as it unlocks. Aemond walks in with snow on his jacket, a brown paper bag and two coffee cups in a drinks holder.

He raises his eyebrows slightly. “Morning,” he mutters, closing the door behind him.

She slowly makes her way to the kitchen as he unpacks the bag— eggs, a loaf of sourdough and some cherry tomatoes.

He looks up at her, and places one of the cups in front of her. “Oat, vanilla latte.”

“Thanks,” she says. It’s not quite as hot as she would have liked, but she’ll forgive him on account of the snow.

“Sit down,” he says, nodding to the dining table. “Won’t take me long.”

He plates up scrambled eggs and smoked salmon on toast and they eat in silence. After that he quietly clears their plates. She wonders if he’s scared of making too much noise.

Then he comes to sit back down, with a fresh glass of water and painkillers for her.

He sits rigidly against his chair, with one hand on the table and the other in his lap. She’d bet anything his fingers are restless under the table.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

She considers for a moment. She’s starting to feel somewhat closer to normal, but the panic has yet to wear off. “Fine.”

She glances around the room. “This is nice,” she says.

“Rhaenys owns it. She let me move in at short notice.”

“After…”

“After I ended things with Alys.”

She hums distantly, folding her arms and crossing her leg over her knee.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he says.

“Which part are you sorry for?”

He angles an eyebrow at her. “All of it?”

She pouts her lips in irritation— a habit she picked up from him.

His mouth quirks. He clears his throat, takes a sip of his coffee and, by the look of it, struggles to swallow it.

“I’m sorry too, for being so careless,” she says.

“No, I should have left once I saw you.” He presses his lips together and taps his fingertip against the table, three times. “And I’m sorry for calling you on Christmas Eve. I don’t even know what I would have said.”

Her heart sinks, but she reminds herself that’s what she should want. “Just a stupid mistake, yeah?”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “Did I really say that? It was actually highly premeditated.”

“Why?” she asks with more disgust than she means to.

He gestures with his hands, as though it should be obvious. “I just wanted to hear your voice again.”

The tension fades from her face. She feels the pull, the hope, the way it crushes her and makes her feel lighter. That’s all she had wanted, as she watched the phone ring, for him to want her, and then she could allow herself to want him back, even though it always ends in misery.

She can still remember what he looked like when they were at Dragonstone, that quiet, reserved kid who spent more time reading than he spent talking. She remembers how excited she was whenever their eyes met or she spotted him sitting alone. She remembers that day he showed her around the house and the gallery. She thought he was going to kiss her then, but he never did.

Maybe he never cared. Maybe was just using her. Maybe she was nothing but another body to fuck.

That doesn’t explain the small things. The hours he spent studying with her, the nights they stayed up talking about anything they could think of, his attentiveness for details, her coffee order, her favourite songs, the way he celebrated her happiness and read her like a book.

“How did we end up here?” she says, “how did we make such a mess of this?”

For a moment he looks like he’s going to reach for her hand, but he stops himself. “I had such a crush on you, when you came to Dragonstone you know,” he says.

“You never said anything.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t think you liked me.”

She tries to laugh but it comes out as a breath. It seems like such a simple misunderstanding for all the pain it has caused.

“I just remember thinking that someone as wonderful as you would never want…” he absentmindedly brushes his fingers along the scar over his eye. “I was different back then; I still had a lot to learn.”

“Aemond,” she says, drawing his eyes back to her, “I thought you were wonderful too.”

“Oh.” He stops himself from smiling and ends up twisting his lips and sticking his chin out in an awkward expression. “Look, I’ve had time to think, and talk this through—”

“With Aegon?”

“And Helaena.”

She tries not to roll her eyes.

“I think I owe you an explanation,” he says.

She leans back in her chair and raises her eyebrows.

Aemond draws his tongue between his lips. “I tried not to think much about you after Dragonstone. You were just Jace’s cousin, I didn’t think I’d have a reason to see you again. And then I knew that first night with Alys was a bad idea. But everything was happening with dad and Rhaenyra, mum was still upset about Storm’s End, and it was just after Harwin got sick… it just happened.”

“Good for you,” she grumbles.

“I’m not trying to play a sympathy card, I just want to tell you the truth,” he says. This time he doesn’t shy away from reaching for her hand. She doesn’t move, and watches as he settles for just resting his hand over hers. “I never meant for things to go as far as they did, but I needed a way out. I needed to get away from my family and Targ Corp. Alys gave me a purpose outside of all that.”

“So you used her?”

“Yes. And she got something out of it too.”

She doesn’t argue against that.

“I don’t know I thought maybe I’d be over how I felt about you. We were just kids, it had been a few years, but then I saw you… and you were perfect. Nothing could convince me otherwise.”

Guilt twinges in her chest. “It wasn’t just you,” she says.

“What do you mean?”

“I kissed you first.”

He tightens his hold of her hand. “But I still wanted you. And we worked it out so well, I just thought we could keep going as we were.”

“Until I fucked it up.”

“No, that’s not it.”

“I did though. I should never have said…” her eyes are starting to sting at the memory. Sprawled out on the bed, naked and not quite satisfied. The empty feeling in her chest as he left her there.

“I couldn’t take me eyes off you at the wedding,” Aemond says. “And then you had one conversation with that Stark kid, and I was losing my fucking mind. I knew why it bothered me. I know how I felt, no matter how I tried to rationalise it. I knew how I felt about you. I always knew.”

She blinks and two tears trail down her cheeks. She can’t manage any more than that.

“I panicked. I didn’t know what it would mean if you felt the same. It just became too real, I—” He exhales heavily, and runs his hand through his hair. “I know this is my mess. I should have stayed away from Alys. I should have been honest. But at the time, it just felt easier to just… let everything happen.”

She had never seen Alys cry as much as she had, that morning when she told her the truth.

“What did you say to mum?”

“After the dinner party? She’d had a horrible night as it was. She said she wished I had defended her more against my parents. I said she should have known what was going to happen before she invited everyone over and that she should stop trying to get involved in my life.”

“Can’t imagine she took that well.”

“I ended up telling her I had rethought my priorities. I couldn’t be what she needed. I said I’d leave Rivers PR and try to patch things up with my family.”

“You didn’t tell her about us though.”

He swipes his thumb over her knuckles. “I didn’t know if you would want me to.”

She takes a shallow breath. “I told her. After you left, I went downstairs and told her everything.”

“What did she say?”

Sometimes she still has nightmares about that morning. She stands in the kitchen while her mother just screams at her.

“She was so angry. It was understandable, I guess, but we barely spoke until I went to Oldtown.”

“You’re at the university?”

“Yeah. She said Oldtown sounded like a good idea. Lots of distance, far away from her.”

“And how has it been, being back home?”

“We talked about it. I think we both realised we didn’t want to lose each other over some stupid guy.”

He half smiles, and exhales. “She called me in September,” he says. “It must have been after you left. She just said she knew. She said I was ‘sick bastard’ and that I should never speak to either of you again.”

“That’s fair,” she says. She takes a sip from her coffee and it’s cold.

“I’m sorry, for everything,” he says. “And you don’t have to forgive me, I just wanted you to know.”

She nods with the smallest movement of her head.

Aemond slides his hand away from her. He leans over his elbows and taps his fingertips on the table again.

She keeps her eyes down as he clears up the coffee cups and follows the sound of his footsteps as he walks to the kitchen, then back to her, hovering over her shoulder.

He takes a slow breath.

“Whenever you’re ready, I could drop you home.”

“Thanks,” she mutters.

“Or if you want another drink, or a shower, or anything…”

She lifts her head and turns herself around to face him. He looks so tired.

“I’ll take you up on a shower.”

He leads her back to the bedroom, handing her a towel from a cupboard, and through to an ensuite with dark tiles on the walls, ceiling and floor, and a shower cornered off from the rest of the room by a glass screen.

She hangs the towel on the back of the door while Aemond runs the water, testing the temperature with his hand.

They turn back into each other.

A hazy cloud of steam fills the room. Aemond’s skin glistens, beads of water and sweat forming along his brow and his neck, but she keeps her gaze on his eyes.

She’s not sure who moves first, but they drift into one another, until their lips meet in an effortlessly delicate kiss.

But it quickly leads to something more intense when she pulls the t-shirt over her head and slides her panties down her legs.

Aemond groans lowly, pulling her into him by her waist, tracing his hands along every inch of her body he can reach. He kisses along her cheek, neck and shoulder as she teases the hem of his t-shirt and his toned stomach underneath.

He moans into her mouth, and she delights in it. “Whose needy now?” she asks sweetly against his lips.

He tears his t-shirt off in one quick movement and surges into kiss her again, cupping and kneading her breasts and her arse.

Then he takes her hands in his, and brings them down to the fly on his jeans.

She grins as he presses his forehead against hers. They both watch as she slowly undoes the buttons and hooks her fingers around the waistband.

She keeps her eyes on him as she pulls his cock free and comes to crouch in front of him, smiling at his clenched fists and tight jaw. He’s already half-hard as she starts to stroke along his length and runs her tongue along the underside of him.

She misses the weight of him in her mouth, his fist in her hair, his praises and the noises he makes as he spills down her throat, but before she can even place her lips at the tip, he drags her up to stand.

“Daddy—”

His usual commanding façade falls to something softer. “No,” he says, “just use my name.”

“Aemond,” she sighs.

He gives her a smug smile and reaches for the side of her neck, tilting her gaze up. “You still on the pill?”

Her breath hitches. “Yeah.”

“Hmm, good girl.”

He walks her into the shower, putting her back against the wall. Her back arches at the cold and the sensation of Aemond’s hands on her hips as he starts trailing kisses down her stomach. He pries her knees apart and teases the sensitive flesh of her thighs with his lips and tongue, edging closer to her cunt.

He must be feeling merciful and doesn’t waste too much time before drags his tongue through her folds.

“Fuck,” he mutters, “missed this perfect pussy.”

It would be embarrassing enough how quickly she comes on his tongue, but what’s worse is just how many times Aemond draws climax after climax from her, circling his tongue over her clit, fucking her with it, then replacing it with his fingers.

Her legs tremble as she feels her slick trickling down her thighs, but he doesn’t need her to stay standing for long. He comes to stand hitches her legs around his hips.

With his face buried in her neck he lines himself up with her entrance and slowly pushes himself inside of her.

She hisses and tugs on his hair at the stretch, but the pain doesn’t last long as he starts to rut into her.

“’m not gonna last long,” he says against her skin, panting with the effort as he picks up his pace.

But she can feel just how responsive her body is to him, just how much she’s missed the feeling of him, his cock dragging through her and hitting that perfect spot deep inside her.

She moans his name and holds him tighter, pulling him closer, urging him deeper.

Her orgasm is a wave of warmth, a soothing relief that just keeps going as Aemond continues to fuck her.

Until his hips still and she feels his cock throb inside of her. His voice is somewhere between a groan and whimper as he comes, and it sends another thrill down her spine.

Carefully, he lowers her down to stand on her own legs, keeping hold of her waist as warm water cascades over their bodies. His eyes don’t stop moving over her face, and she can’t stop touching him, threading her fingers though his hair, feeling along his neck, his jaw, his cheeks and his lips.

He turns her around. The cap of a bottle clicks and he lathers shampoo through her hair, then tilts her head back to rinse it out. Next, he coats it in conditioner, and keeping her back against his chest and his head over her shoulder, he washes her skin with a lavender body wash.

Then he pushes her into the wall by the base of her neck. She braces herself by her palms as he takes a delicate hold of her throat and fucks her again. He reaches deeper from this angle, bullying against her sweet spot.

Aemond keeps a steady pace and kisses the back of her neck. “Tell me you missed me,” he says.

“I missed you,” she utters, “missed how good you make me feel.”

“Hmm, missed being my good little slut?”

She tries to say it back, but all she manages is a throaty moan as she comes undone around him.

Then he washes the conditioner out of her hair like it’s nothing.

After he’s dried her off with the towel, he carries her back to the bedroom and lays her out on her back.

He’s insatiable. He fucks her again with their foreheads pressed together and their lips barely brushing over each other. Every brutal snap of his hips is another step towards a burning oblivion, and his pace barely falters as he positions her legs over his shoulders.

She can feel herself twitching and clamping around him, the coil in her belly tensing and tensing until it’s almost unbearable.

Aemond presses his teeth together and hisses like it hurts. “So tight,” he whispers, “my good girl, so fucking tight.”

“Please,” she utters, “Aemond, I wanna come,”

He frowns in mocking sympathy and grazes his lips over her the sensitive spot on her neck. “I know you do, baby, I’m close too, just hold out for me a little longer, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says, barely a breath, and she says it over and over again. She closes her eyes so she can lose herself in it all, his cock dragging through her, the wet sounds of sex, the smell of sweat and lavender bodywash, his nose pressing against her cheek as he turns into her, his breath over her mouth, his desperate moans and whimpers…

Her orgasm rises and comes crashing down, until her skin comes alight and her body starts to tremble underneath him.

Aemond lets out a guttural groan as he comes, stilling his hips against her, pushing in impossibly deeper as a warmth floods through her.

He lifts his face to hover over hers. His hair is still damp and so is hers, leaving a cold patch on the pillow that makes her shiver.

Aemond leans on one hand over her and brings his thumb to her bottom lip to pry open her jaw.

She sticks her tongue out, ready and waiting as he trails a slow line of spit into her mouth.

“Swallow,” he mutters, and she does.

He smiles vaguely as takes her legs down from his shoulders and pulls her to sit up, cupping her face in his hands and leaning in to kiss her lazily.

This is how things were supposed to be, she thinks, winter mornings wrapped up in each other, her body settled in a perfect state between bliss and numbness.

Suddenly he’s moving away again. “All fours,” he says.

She rolls over her side and props herself against the mattress on her hands and knees.

Aemond keeps a punishing grip of her hips as he slides his cock into her sensitive pussy, fingertips digging into her flesh as he pulls her into him with every thrust.

It doesn’t take long before her arms feel weak and her wrists start to ache. “Aemond,” she whines, “please, please…”

Aemond pulls her against his chest as he keeps pounding into her. One arm wraps around her shoulders and her chest, holding her against him while his fingers pinch at one of her nipples. His other hand snakes down her body to play with her clit.

“Mine,” he groans against the shell of her ear, “you’re mine and you love it. I’m never going to let you go, never.” As harsh as his voice is he sounds desperate, pleading.

She holds her arms over the arm keeping her in place, helpless to do anything but cling to him and just take it.

She’s lost count of how many times he’s made her come, and this orgasm tears through her suddenly as a broken cry sounds in her throat. She digs her nails into Aemond’s arm to take the edge off as white-hot pleasure surges through her.

Her mind is completely fucked out. Aemond lets her fall back on the bed and spreads her legs, trailing his thumb through her soaked folds and his cum as it dribbles out of her.

And he slips into the bed beside her, pulling the duvet over their bodies and holding her close.

“I might need another shower,” she says.

Aemond huffs a laugh and presses a kiss to her temple.

It’s cold but she drags herself from the bed and goes to the ensuite to sort herself out. She runs herself another shower and brushes her teeth with a spare toothbrush she finds in a basket under the sink.

And when she comes back into the bedroom, Aemond looks at her with a dazed smile and a look of wonder in his eyes. She practically runs back to join him, wrapping her arms around his torso and tucking herself under his shoulder to rest her head over his heart.

“There was something else I wanted to talk to you about,” he says.

She doesn’t reply but he knows she’s listening.

“I’ve been talking to mum and Otto, and I think I might take him up on that job offer at Beacon.”

Her heart beats a little faster, in time with his. Dread pools in her stomach again, eased by the afterglow and the satisfied ache between her legs.

“We’d both be in the same city, away from our families. I could get my own place.”

“And?” she utters.

“We could start over. We could try to make this work.”

Away from his parents and Targ Corp. Away from Alys. Away from the city she’s been trying to run away from.

“I think mum would kill me,” she says.

Aemond shrugs. “She wouldn’t have to know.”

“So what, we go back to keeping secrets?”

“No,” he says, turning on his side to face her. He places his hand on her neck, caressing his fingertips over her skin. “No, that’s the whole point, we wouldn’t have to hide anything in Oldtown. It would just be me and you.”

She meets his suggestion with silence.

“You don’t want to,” he whispers.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” she says, propping herself up and resting a hand on his chest. “But we’ve made mistakes before. I just don’t think this is a good idea.”

Aemond’s expression shifts. His mouth tenses and his brow furrows, not quite angry, but hardly innocent.

“I understand,” he says, but she’s not sure she believes him.

She pulls herself away from him and swings her legs over the side of the bed, placing her feet on the floor. “I think you should just take me home.”

They fall back to silence. She slips into her dress and her jacket, stuffing her fishnets in her pocket because she can’t be bothered to put them on. She makes sure she has her phone and her keys, and waits for Aemond by the front door.

He’s not far behind her, appearing in a white knit jumper and a pair of blue jeans.

The streets are almost empty, and a good thing too because the roads are thick with snow. Aemond drives slowly and cautiously, not that he’s ever been an especially reckless driver.

The Bluetooth on the car picks up her phone automatically. She tuts as a Lana Del Rey song plays through the speakers.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, reaching to turn to audio off.

“No,” Aemond says, holding his hand over the button. “I like this song.”

She withdraws her hand and tries not to smile. “I fucking knew it. You’re a secret Lana fan.”

Aemond huffs a quiet laugh. “I just appreciate good music. Ultraviolence is a modern masterpiece.”

The weather gives them a reason not to talk for the rest of the way. She keeps her eyes ahead, pretending to be enchanted by the snow, but she keeps stealing glances of him, with minimal movements of her head so as not to draw his attention. She watches his hands as they grip the steering wheel, his legs as he presses down on the pedals, and his face in the reflection of the windshield.

It takes twice the amount of time it should for them to reach Queen’s Park, and he pulls over a few houses before hers.

Once they’ve stopped Aemond sighs and runs his hands over the wheel. He leaves the engine running to keep the heating going.

She eyes the door handle and her fingers twitch.

“When would you be moving to Oldtown?” she asks.

“I start at the end of the month. I’m trying to find a place before then.”

“Right,” she says.

She looks further down the street, but the house is hidden by hedges. Alys should have come straight home after her gala. Most days she’s an early riser, and she doesn’t tend to overdo it on the drinks when she’s working— which to her, is almost always. She’s probably in the kitchen, trying to figure out where in Seven Hells she ended up last night.

She looks back to Aemond. He’s watching her with wide eyes.

“I have my thesis due at the end of the term, and exams after that. I’ll be pretty busy,” she says.

He nods and peeks his tongue between his lips. “If you need anything,” he mutters, “you can call me, anytime.”

“Thanks.”

“And, you know, if you ever change your mind…”

“I’ll call you.”

The possibility seems more and more likely the longer she looks at him.

But she pushes open the car door before she does something stupid.

She follows the footsteps already laid out in the snow. It must be a good few inches of snowfall; the prints are set deep. Thank the Seven she’d chosen to wear boots and not heels.

“Wait—” He doesn’t need to say it loudly, it’s quiet enough that she hears him, even when he barely utters it.

She turns as Aemond slams the car door shut and closes the distance between them in a few strides.

“What?” she utters.

Aemond nudges his nose into hers and cups her cheeks in his hands. Her skin feels like ice against him. Warmth blooms in her chest, and suddenly she’s able to forget that she’s standing out in the snow, in a black mini dress and a leather jacket.

He tenderly presses his lips into hers. They kiss like it’s their first times, with slow and cautious movements. More than anything she just feels the shape of his lips and lets them rest against each other.

This time, when she pulls away for a breath, and those careless words come out of her mouth, barely above a whisper, he doesn’t break away from her. He doesn’t abandon her. He says it back.

It’s terrifying and grounding all at once.

She crashes her lips against his to kiss him properly, tugging at the collar of his jumper and running her hand over the pulse point of his neck.

She knows she can’t lie to herself. As soon as January is done, she’ll find his name in her phone. She’ll say she missed him. He’ll tell her he loves her, and she’ll say it back. Time will tell if it turns out to be a bad decision.

“I don’t think my life makes sense without you,” she says against his lips.

Aemond smiles, with a gentle curl of his mouth and a look of intense excitement in his eyes. “I know, baby. I know.”

Tags (comment to be added to either)

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya

Series Taglist: @marthawrites @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aaaaaamond @boundlessfantasy @sahvlran @tinykryptonitewerewolf @arcielee @tssf-imagines @aemondsfavouritebastard @skikikikiikhhjuuh @queenofshinigamis @lost-and-founds @izzydlb @dc-marvel-girl96 @xcinnamonmalfoyx @padfooteyes @castellomargot @pet1t3 @okfashionista @khaothick @babygirlyofthevale

[goddessofroyalty]

Fandom: One Piece

I wanted to play around with Luffy’s relationship with ZoSan in omegaverse and kept coming back to this idea of him being really invested in them bonding because it means people know they are taken and nobody could take either of them away. This is basically that.

Pairings: Zoro/Sanji, (you can also definitively read Zoro/Sanji/Luffy into this but Luffy's relationship to them can also be read platonically)

Tags: omegaverse

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

Their captain apparently has an uncanny ability to know the exact moment they formalized their mate bond.

Maybe it’s a result of that sense of smell of his that is far sharper than any beta’s should be. Or perhaps it’s just part of the seemingly unconscious awareness he has of when exactly his crew need him. But they have only just settled in the afterglow of proper mated sex, pressed against each other with a dull ache of a fresh bite on their necks and the warmth of heat still under Sanji’s skin when knuckles knock against the door in a hurried song.

“Are you guys done? Let me in!” Luffy calls from the other side.

Zoro shares a look with Sanji. It’s pointless trying to deter him they both know.

Sanji roots around to reach for where he left his cigarettes by the makeshift nest as Zoro gets up to let their captain in. Slipping on pants on his way like modesty is something they might care about now.

Luffy practically launches himself over to Sanji once the door is open. Wrapping stretchy limbs all around him as he twists Sanji’s head to the side to give him a better a better look at the fresh bite on the gland on Sanji’s neck. One they hadn’t even known they were planning to do until they were in the moment and the weight of everything suddenly hit them and made them finally realize they had been dragging it out for no good reason.

“Oh, wow,” Luffy says, prodding against the tender flesh. “You can see each of Zoro’s teeth.”

Zoro grunts at it, pacing along the borders of the room moving stuff around. If asked he’d likely claim he’s looking for something to drink but from where Sanji’s sitting it looks more like an alpha marking the border of their mate’s nest.

Sanji should probably be annoyed at the implication that he needs to be protected, or worse, guarded over like some stolen treasure.

He’s not because it’s not. They trust in each other’s strengths but watch each other’s backs.

Luffy demands Sanji’s attention back onto him by nuzzling against Sanji’s neck as if he’s trying to rub his beta scent over that of an alpha’s fresh mating. If anyone could it would be Luffy.

Zoro watches it with more patience than could expect of an alpha as someone else paws over their mate. Especially when said mate is still in the middle of a heat and the bite is so fresh. Even if the person in question is his pack head. Zoro’s trust and loyalty in his captain stronger than instinct.

“Everyone will know you’re Zoro’s now,” Luffy chatters happily as he continues to examine the bite like it’s more interesting than just teeth and flesh. “They can’t take you from us now.”

Sanji swallows his guilt at the words. Tries not to think of how comforted what is a rather possessive declaration from their captain makes him.

“How will they know they can’t take Zoro though?” Luffy asks. Twisting his head to look over at where Zoro is pacing.

“He has a bite too,” Sanji assures their captain. There was no way he was going to let this be a one-way claim.

“Really!? Let me see!” Luffy stretches out an arm to tug Zoro over to sit next to them on the nest. Untangling himself from Sanji only so much so he can press and twist Zoro to better see the bit on his neck as well.

Zoro glares weakly at them both for it. But he lets Luffy do as he pleases.

“Oh! Zoro’s bite is deeper than Sanji’s!” Luffy says with a laugh.

“What!?” Sanji says the same time as his new mate.

Luffy grabs hold of Sanji’s head to twist it so he can see his neck and bite better. Eyes darting between the two bites.

“Yeah. It’s definitively deeper. Sanji really didn’t want anyone taking Zoro,” Luffy confirms with a laugh.

Sanji hadn’t thought he had bitten down any harder than Zoro had him. He had only been returning what he had been given.”

“Hey captain,” Zoro says, his gaze locked on Sanji, eyes darkening by the moment. “Can you leave us for a bit?”

“Huh?” Luffy asks, his nostrils suddenly flaring. “Oh, you need to bite him some more now?”

“Something like that,” Zoro agrees. And Snaji is very glad he’s still wrapped up in the nest, because he doesn’t want Luffy knowing how much of an effect that tone in Zoro’s voice has on him.

“Right,” Luffy says with a nod. Detangling where he has his limbs wrapped around the two of them so he can leave.

“Have fun,” he says before slipping out of the room but Sanji isn’t really paying attention to him anymore. Much more focused on how Zoro is climbing on top of him, alpha-scent thick in the air.

“Don’t want anyone else taking me?” Zoro asks, all teeth.

“Shut up,” Sanji says, pulling him closer for a kiss.

[countrymusiclover]

12 - Late Night Confession

Part 13

It’s About Time

Tags just ask - @lover-of-books-and-tea @bvbwestfall @bubble-bluee @liesanddreams @bethanymccauley @skeletonontheroad @ashsallyblue2

Georgie nervously responded with a blush on his face. “The more than best friends kind of feeling.” I hung my mouth opened so unclear of my next response to my best friend. 

I blinked my eyes a couple of times frozen in my spot standing in the room. I blurted out the question because I still wasn’t able to believe what he just said to me. “Georgie - are we sure this isn’t a dream or something?”

“I hope not or I snuck out of the house for nothing.” He responded with a half smile. 

Brushing my hair back out of my eyes I sighed. “Okay uh - just give me a second to think.”

“The fact that you’re needing to think about is scaring me. I think it’s a simple question: do you feel the same way or not?” Georgie asked, tilting his head. 

Sitting down on the end of the bed making it creek at my weight I stared at the bookshelf in front of me. “It’s sort of simple, I just need a minute here.”

“Look if you don’t feel the same way then that’s cool. I broke up with Jana but my charm can probably get her back and date me again.” 

I sent him a side eye. “Georgie, are you sure that’s the best idea? I doubt she’ll want to get back with you especially when it depends on what reason you gave her.”

“I told her I wanted to date other girls in addition to her.” He responded back to me. 

Covering my face with my hands I groaned. “On god.” 

“How was that wrong? It’s the truth cause I do really like you.” 

I chuckled at his response. “Georgie, you’re lucky that I like you even though sometimes you don’t understand some things.” 

“So you do like me. Like, like me more than a friend like me?” Georgie came over and sat down beside me on the bed where our faces were close like they had been at my birthday bonfire. 

I got up from the bed pacing back and forth in front of my best friend wrapping my arms around my body blurting it out to him. “Of course I care about you more than a friend, Georgie!”

“You’re being serious?” He asked me. 

Running my fingers through my hair I croaked through some tears feeling this huge weight being taken off my chest after all this time. “I’m 100% being serious. I mean we’ve been best friends since we were five years old. I’ve basically become a member of your family with all the time I spend at your house. Georgie, you know everything about me and I know everything about you.” 

“What's funny?” He raised a brow when a playful laugh left my lips. 

I grinned at the eldest Cooper boy. “I think everyone in this town has been counting down the days until we would get together.” 

“Sorry I wasn't smart enough to figure out it was so obvious.” He apologized. 

I stepped closer to him where our gazes met and our chest were nearly up against the others. “Don’t apologize. I wasn’t throwing it out too clearly on my end.” 

“But you shouldn't have to. In fact I ain’t gonna make you question how I feel ever again.” 

“How are ya gonna do that-” I gasped before he cut me off, cupping my face in his hands with our lips colliding together. 

It took me a second to process what was happening right now. Of course I had dreamt of this moment but now it was happening for real. My fingers gripped onto the fabric of his shirt when I begin kissing him back. We pressed our bodies against one another, moving as close as we possibly could. 

Georgie moved one hand into my hair cradling my face in his other. I threaded my fingers in his curly hair until we needed air and broke the kiss. “I can't believe we're really doing this right now.” 

“Neither can I. I must have been a darn fool to not see my feelings for you earlier.” He rested his forehead down on mine, gently letting his hands drop down to my waist. 

I ran my fingers through his hair a second time making him look me in the eye. “It doesn’t matter how long it took for us to get here. We're here now, that's all that matters.” 

Georgie and I remained staring at each other letting silence fill the bedroom. I broke the staring contest and wrapped my arms around his neck kissing him for the first time. He kissed me back, wrapping his arms around my waist tugging me closer. Somehow along the way we tumbled back onto my bed never breaking the long drawn out kiss. 

He finally broke it needing air seeing the time on my dresser clock. “I should get going before it gets too late.” 

“Or you could just stay and sneak out tomorrow morning before my parents take me to school.” I suggested not wanting him to really leave not when we just confessed. 

Georgie grinned leaning forward kissing me. “I can do that, darling.” 

“Darling?” I chuckled. 

He made a confused face back. “Ya don’t like it?” 

“It’s not that. You’ve just never called me that before.” I smiled, running my fingers through his brown curls a second time. “It’ll take some getting used to but don’t think I don’t like it.”

Georgie nodded, shifting his body weight on the bed to lay down. “I’ll have to start callin’ you it more often then.” He lifted up the covers after he kicked off his boots and socks, leaving his pants on since we weren’t near the point of sleeping together. 

I climbed underneath the covers crawling over to him and laying my head in the crook of his neck. “I guess having matching scars is good for a relationship.” 

“You bet your boots, darling.” He teased me where I quietly squealed before we curled up into the other passing out for a few hours. I was still in shock and over the moon about what just happened between us. 

The morning came far too soon for either of our enjoyment. My alarm started going off where I rolled over and shut it off about falling back asleep until the realization hit me. Sitting upright I saw that the clock read 6:15 am on it meaning I was supposed to be getting ready. Flopping over onto my other side I nudged Georgie trying to wake him up. “Georgie. Georgie wake up.”

“Wha - what’s going on?” He mumbled in his sleepy morning voice not opening his eyes. 

I shake his shoulders another time. “We're late or you'll be late. You were supposed to sneak out at 5:30. It's 6:15 and my dad usually comes to drive me to school at 6:45.”

“Dang it!” He opened his eyes quickly stumbling out of the bed. He yanked his boots on as fast as he could. 

I heard footsteps coming down our hallway before my father’s voice came through the door. “Y/n, are you ready?” 

“Uh not yet.” I called back to him. 

Georgie walked over to the window about to open it but needed my dad to not be listening. “Okay well I have to leave for work. Your mom can take you for today.” 

“Sounds good.” I responded before he left down the hallway leaving us alone. Georgie and I spared the other a glance before he climbed out the window and out onto the large tree limb. “Be careful. If my daddy catches you he'll shoot you off the property-” 

“With a ten gage shotgun. Don't worry I got this.” Georgie reminds me, slowly climbing down the tree. His right foot slips and he dropped to the dirt groaning for a second till he thankfully got to his feet. He got on his bike speeding off as fast as he could. 

I sighed, lowering my head into my hands for a brief moment, finally getting dressed for my day. Heading downstairs my mom was sitting on the couch waiting for me. “Are you ready for school?” 

“Yep.” I gave her a one word response going out the front door to the car and we made our way to school. 

She broke the silence that had appeared the minute we got in the car. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah why?” I answered her. 

She sent me a half smile. “You've just not been hanging out with Georgie like you have for years.” 

“Oh well we've been busy. But that's not what is bothering me.” 

My mom questions letting silence fill our car. “Then what is?” 

“I'm going to have to break up with Marlowe today at school.” I shrugged my shoulders looking out the window, our revenge plan seemed to have worked after all. Yet I had to play it cool and hide the huge smile that wanted to cross my lips. 

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[georgiapeach30513]

Hi Jen! Mrs pasta here.

I hope some people realize that if The day comes Ramen deactivates or officially deletes his IG, it is over. He has given up trying to engage with the public and that is when, fans, or remaining fans, should be worried. Because that means he no longer wants to try - forced or not.

Right now, deleting a few posts here or there is odd to some but probably has a reason behind it. I wish people would just wait. It’s getting annoying at this point.

Lastly. Ramen is still somewhat holding it together for the public despite the blatant and abhorrent negativity he continues to keep receiving. I commend him for that.

And to the snarky people on here that keep wanting to dig on him…

I’d like to see you get tagged in H*tler and N*zi and t*rrorist posts and get shamed for everything from you hair, face, nose, teeth, body, things you’ve said maybe out of context 15 years ago, and promotional pictures you took 8 years ago during a USO tour for a company you work for…and also being called P and G names from your own fanbase…and your friends, family, business partners, etc getting tagged into the same

Negativity

And come back and tell me you’re okay. That you don’t care and that you’re not bothered. Seriously. I will sit here and wait.

Please remember that humans have emotions and feelings, even if they are famous.

Have a great week, Jen. Stay sweet and positive as you always are ❤️

Welcome back, Mrs. Pasta.

I hope you had a beautiful day yesterday filled with love and laughter.

I do agree with your comments. It is disheartening to see some posts that have been deleted/archived when they brought so much joy. But I’m sure there are reasons. I have a few ideas and thoughts. But what do I know for a fact?

I hope that he is actually taking care of himself while he waits for production on Honey, Don’t to start. It seems the snow with Dodger was a nice moment.

I do think that people have taken the USO tour pictures a bit too far. And to demand anyone, celebrities included, to speak on something is a bit strange for me. But maybe me being a millennial I look at things differently. I’m not excusing the actions during the USO tour, but if we can forgive old tweets and say people have changed, maybe we should have the same grace. Or even keep the same energy for the other person on that USO tour that signed as well. But still, almost a decade ago.

I think everyone should just breathe. Remember there are emotions and a person behind the persona.

And you have a great week as well! I always look forward to your drop ins. Hopefully the next one is a bit more joyful. We can have us some Banza noodles 😊

@inshelliesworld updated the Mrs. Pasta logo 🥹 look at her!

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

I'm baaaaaaaack!!!!!!!!!!

My sister, Honey, brought me home last night so I could surprise everyone at her early birthday party (today is her birthday). I was going to be coming home anyway, but I'm glad I didn't have to rely on the buses to get me home since none of them go directly from Northfield to Ware. The party was great, I didn't get home until almost eleven, and I didn't get to sleep til after midnight, but I have been writing for a while to get some of my ideas out. It's good to be home, but I'm not really looking forward to heading back to work in about ten minutes. I can just tell it's going to be so much fun (she says sarcastically).

Now, putting that whole mess aside and moving onto something absolutely amazing, I saw your graduation post on Insta! Congratulations, El! All of the hard work you've put in over the last five years has finally paid off and I am so over-the-moon happy for you. You deserve a looong break after all of that. I'm hoping to finish making a little something as a congratulations, but the only hint I'm giving you is that it has something to do with a particular Chicago-musical-based trend on TikTok.

Now, I wanted to get everything that happened at camp - good, bad, and weird - out of my head, since a lot happened. I realize I never said it before, but I arrived at camp on the 5th of July - a day earlier than everyone else - because, as the pseudo-niece of the camp's director (he was my aunt's ex and has been a friend of the family since long before I was born), I wanted to be there to help get everything ready for the staff weekend. I've worked the summer there before and been a camper since I was maybe eight or nine, so I know the place inside and out. A majority of Camp Wanamaker's layout is similar to Camp Northfield's, and if the name sounds familiar, it's the camp name I used way back during the winter prompts of 2022 - Making an Effort, I believe it was.

Camp Northfield is different in the way the cabins are laid out - boys on the west side of the grounds, girls on the east side, and co-ed lodging (usually for workers and families) in the middle. The swimming pool, sports fields, campfire pit, and medical areas are similar, if not the same, but the music hall, dance studio, ropes course, and playhouse are something I based off of an all-girls camp I went to for a couple summers that was, thankfully, paid for by my friend's family as I definitely would not have been able to afford the $9,275 price tag - Camp Wicosuta.

To be honest, it's been years since I was a camper there, but now that I've given the Camp Wico map a glance, I can see how most of Camp Wanamaker's layout is the same. I'll put up a picture of Camp Wico's map, but you'll definitely see I moved some stuff around to fit my mental layout better. Like, for example, the changing rooms by the lake would be on the right side instead, as it's currently where I see the Lakeside Lodge being; the Main House and Bungalow are where I picture the Library and Art Barn; the Art Barn on the map just doesn't exist in my head as I've just expanded the playground area (that's where Royce and Miles had that water balloon fight with some kids); the dining hall and main office are closer together in my head; and, well, I'll let you imagine the rest as you've read Camp Wanamaker and have your own vision for it, I'm sure.

I don't know if you can see the resemblance here, but I know I can. It kind of makes me wish that I'd taken the summer to work there as it feels very much like what I picture Camp Wanamaker. Well, apart from the fact that it's an all-girls camp, that is lmao.

Now, onto what's happened so far!

There was a huge thunderstorm that lasted all day and into the night. Because of high winds, a wire from a telephone pole landed on the front porch of a nearby house, and it burned the front porch of that house but didn't damage the rest of it; a tree fell on a car in the parking lot - yay for insurance - and the power went out for almost four hours, which meant no air conditioning, no fans, no showers for the sweaty abominations we called campers, and no popcorn for movie night. It was a catastrophe.

Baby’s first sunburn. That's right - ya girl is naturally tan due to my dad's family being a blend of Mediterranean and Native American, and despite the mix of Irish and French on my mom's side of the family, I have never gotten a sunburn before in my life. However, I got my very first sunburn after falling asleep on a floating unicorn in the lake while listening to an audiobook I saved to my phone. Naturally, I was in a bit of pain, but it turned into a tan after a day or so, so it wasn't nearly as horrible as my pasty-white older sisters always make it out to be.

Nacho night! We spread tin foil over the tables in the mess hall and had a nacho dump night. It wasn't nearly as messy as we thought it would be, and I really enjoyed it. I wish I had taken pictures of it, but I leave my phone in my cabin for meals, so my Mount Kilimanjaro of nachos will have to remain in my brain. Just know, they were incredible.

Made a librarian friend, Susan. Susan is a 73yo librarian who, frankly, doesn't give a damn anymore. I adore her and her no-bullshit attitude, and I wish she worked at the library down the street from my house. Susan gave me a stack of extra books they were going to toss out soon, including some old copies of S.E. Hinton's books and some books that they mistakenly bought 2-3 extra copies of. She said I could visit her anytime, and I plan to. I love Susan. She’s a real one.

A group of Amish people visited to help fix the horse stables. We had multiple children try to “help”. The Amish didn’t mind and let them. They are cool and enjoyed the snow cones we made them before they left.

Multiple days of sun showers. Danced in the rain a lot this summer. Felt very reminiscent of Can I Have This Dance from HSM3. 10/10, very fun.

Apparently, someone shot Trump at a rally. We didn’t know anything about it until the newspaper came for one of the office ladies. Seriously... what is this country coming to? I'm contemplating moving abroad once I have the money to do so. It's getting ridiculous out here.

On a better note, we had a visiting camp join us one weekend. Camp Nero. They are a medieval/renaissance camp where everyone runs around in full costume. I "jousted" very beautiful, very sweet Lady Gilmoira Embers of Willowdale (or, as I later discovered, Kenzie of Salem). She was epic. I lost. A group of us played a DND one-shot that night. I ended up just barely making my second death-saving throw against a 50s biker-esque tiefling warlock whose gang chased us on possessed motorcycles. Twas epic. Would absolutely join them again.

I managed a puppet show. We had a talking lion. I feel like whoever wrote the script must have smoked something before working on it. It was hilarious. I'm waiting for my CIT to send me the video she recorded of one of our rehearsals, but if I get it, I'll post it.

Last week, staff members had the chance to do fun presentations on their favorite things that we would present after the campers left on Saturday. Three completely separate people did presentations on sleep. Two girls did a shared one on the Romanovs; it was very informative and well-researched. 10/10. I did one about the Titanic (big shock, I know), and two of my friends recreated the Jack and Rose thing with one of those dolly push-cart things while singing Celine Dion. It was not planned, but they did great.

A literal eight-year-old called me “Mom” on accident because I’m the same age as his mom… Yeah, I had to do some mental math and suffer through a bit of an existential crisis with that one, but he was sweet and really well-mannered. I gave him extra marshmallows at campfire time. 

Two teen morons dumped vodka into the orange juice during adventure week. Both got sent home after drunkenly confessing to their crimes. Thankfully, the staff caught it before the children could be affected. I’m grateful I prefer tomato juice.

To keep this list relatively short, I befriended our camp babies - Smores, Elvira, and Mochi. Smores is a mouthy cat (as you can see) who wandered onto camp property years ago. Some campers lured her in with bits of graham crackers, and she never left. She now resides in her own little area of the main lodge where campers go to spoil her with treats before going upstairs for lunch in the mess hall. Elvira is an all-black cat who Chief Byron and his wife brought to camp as an emotional support cat. She doesn't take this job seriously anymore and will automatically climb onto people's shoulders just to lay across them like a scarf. She loves to cuddle and makes excellent biscuits when she wants to be snuggled or get belly rubs. Mochi is the camp's two-year-old husky. She's taken over for Elvira as the camp's emotional support animal, and loves all the attention she gets every day. She's very spoiled, but I had to put Mochi in jail (her crate) because she ate a kid's unattended mochi ice cream, and cannibalism is frowned upon at our camp. Her eyes were killing me internally, but she had to remain there until dessert was over.

Also, I got the chance to work on some old drawings I had started drawing on my phone waaaay back. I mean, like, 2019-2021. I think the only one I completed is one I started back in 2022, right after you posted the first part of the prologue for TMM, which feels insane now that I think about it, but these are the lengths I went to in order to keep myself from boredom between archery groups. Some of the pictures are faceless, as I can't draw faces realistically all that well, but the one I did for TMM is one of the last "cartoon-ish" pieces I've done, so that one has faces. It just felt wrong to not give them faces when I feel fairly confident drawing in that art style. I was originally going to draw everyone in outfits I've seen in my mom's yearbook and my family photo albums from that decade, but I ended up with only Bentley and Kona before I got home. Before I go into detail on the other pictures I finished, here's the one for TMM as well as the more saturated version of it (on the right) that my C.I.T (counselor-in-training) Lily, said looks cooler:

Personally, I like the og, but that's just because I'm used to looking at it. I was going to go back in and add more details as the story progresses, but I kept it simple in the end. I might add more characters if I feel up to it, but for now, it is what it is. Kona's little friendship bracelet, her Kool-Aid dyed hair, Bentley's perpetual injuries, and his watch, despite him never being on time for anything in his life (including his own birth, lmao) are the only hints to anything that I ended up keeping. I was also going to do their DnD characters once I figured out what they would be, but maybe that'll wait until later on. After all, now that I'm playing DnD myself, I want to make it as accurate as possible.

My gang's characters are chaotic at best and are definitely not a great example to work off of, but DnD art is so much fun. In our little group of six, we've got a 500lb Tortle Bard named Nik who flirts with everything that so much as looks his way; a Dragonborn Fighter named Oybek who is all brawn, and absolutely no brains, but eats the flesh of his enemies after he kills them to absorb some of their abilities; a variant human Warlock-Sorcerer named Denji who has chainsaws for arms and has some kind of deal with the mafia; a Half-Elf Gunslinger Rogue named Jordeau who wears only red and has this weird obsession with dragons; and my character Irynia, a High Elf Twilight Cleric of Apollo whose only mission is to restore light to the Underdark, but she gets tied up with this group because they're a bunch of absolute morons who think with their fists more than their brains. Yeah... we're an odd bunch, that's for sure.

Anyway, my unfinished, (mostly) faceless drawings include a very shakily finger-drawn, unpolished picture of Vivien playing drums, an old, semi-finished drawing of what I originally thought Mick and Butchy would look like together on a beach date, a very clearly unfinished partial sketch of something that will eventually become Jade playing guitar (ignore the fact that her skin is super pale, I have yet to add any shading), a half-assed attempt at drawing Miles sleeping that will, presumably, take forever to get further than its current state as the coloring for the background has become my undoing, and a somewhat blurry picture of a few OCs in the Five Nights At Freddy's: Security Breach universe (Juliet as a Mazercise instructor, Mick as a Kid's Cove snack stand worker, Carrie as a Roxy Raceway race starter, Vivien as a nail artist in the GlamRock salon, and Kona as a photographer for the photo ops in Rockstar Row). The last one is super blurry, but I think that's because I layered each image onto one canvas instead of editing it properly later on, so that's entirely my bad. I don't have the originals of each, so this is all I have to work with. I am going to go back and edit everything now that I can actually use my tablet to draw instead of my phone, but that'll take a while.

I could nitpick these pictures all day since they're not finished, but some of these were my first actual attempts at doing something realistic, so I'm giving myself a bit of a pass on them and allowing myself to feel alright with how they look. It'll all improve with time and effort, I'm sure. All the same, I had fun with them.

So, yeah, have fun with those. They are just rough drafts right now - especially the faceless ones - but I enjoyed working on them a bit this last month, so I wanted to share them before I finish them off. I might go back to my old style in some ways - like I did with the Miles one - as it's super hard to draw realistic features, but I'm pleased with them for the most part.

Now, hopefully, I'll be able to sit down and read through everything you've posted lately because, tbh, I feel like I've missed a lot while I was gone, lmao. I am super excited to read through your post about Starlight Express since it's just not possible for me to see it over here. If you have a slime tutorial 👀 hook your girl up! I can't find one for The Outsiders, sadly. I have the script, so I've been reading that and riding that emotional rollercoaster (or train, I suppose, since that's a huge theme in the background of everything), but I would love to watch Starlight Express if you have that.

Anyway, I promise I'll be back to writing STDP and CW2 soon as I need to adjust to my old schedule again, but for now, here's a sneak peek of the first five-ish pages of the first chapter of Camp Wanamaker 2 (still calling it Electric Boogaloo, ngl, but yeah)!

Warm summer air filtered through the open window, rustling the curtains that danced along the sill. Air conditioners had yet to be put into the upstairs windows of the Birch family cabin as their arrival the night before had been more of a drop-your-belongings-by-the-door-and-crash kind of arrival than a calm, well-planned one. The air conditioners stored in the basement would be taken out sooner or later, but in the meantime, the slightly overheated log cabin was cooled by open windows that allowed the sixty-degree air to clear out the dust that had settled since their last visit to New Hampshire and a handful of oscillating floor fans that send waves of chilled air circulating throughout the rooms.

The group’s mid-afternoon departure from the California airport had been a rush of overstuffed backpacks and hastily checked baggage, making their late-night arrival at the Logan International Airport in Boston even more chaotic. The almost two-hour drive from the airport to the log cabin had been… entertaining, to say the least. The Birches had rented a fifteen-passenger van ahead of time, allowing everyone a seat as well as providing extra room for their belongings in the trunk and on the roof rack. Miles had sandwiched his girlfriend between himself and one of their additional guests - a certain blonde Texan who seemed oblivious to her best friend’s raging red cheeks. Ignoring the conversations around them, Royce had watched from the far seat as Bentley’s face smushed against the window within the first few minutes of the long drive, his steady breaths fogging up the glass, but it wasn’t until Kona’s head landed on his shoulder that Royce had felt the pull of exhaustion himself. 

It had been Vivien’s idea to invite Kona. The two had become rather close during Vivien’s initial stay with them - something Vivien chalked up to having a sister the same age as the younger blonde - and after spending another spring break with them to celebrate her early graduation, Vivien decided to invite Kona along for the summer. Kona had initially brushed off the invitation, claiming she wouldn’t want to intrude on the girl’s summer of fun, but after some pushing from Bentley and Vivien, telling her about all of the fun activities she could do without her parents even knowing she had left their small town, Kona relented.

Royce remembered how excited Vivien was after that, spouting off about all the things they could do and how fun it would be, all while Kona just smiled and nodded. Vivien had tried to convince Juliet to join them as well that day, but the blonde Texan needed a bit more convincing. Camping just wasn’t her thing. She hated bugs with a passion, hiking had never been her forte, and the last time she went fishing, she had ended up driving her dad to the emergency room after her hook had embedded itself into his arm. It wasn’t until after Vivien began showing her pictures of the camp - the log cabins Vivien made sure to mention had plumbing and air conditioning, the playhouse all decked out from their performance of Hairspray the year before, and, most importantly, the dance studio - that Juliet admitted to being tempted to join them.

Carrie had settled the matter entirely, only slightly joking when she mentioned to Juliet that, if she stayed at the camp, she would get to spend not only time with Vivien and herself but also with a certain auburn-haired boy they knew all too well. Juliet had initially argued that she and Riven had nothing between them - something neither Carrie nor Vivien entirely believed - but after much talking and more than one drink, Juliet had been convinced to join them “for the sake of the dance studio.”

Vivien had gone back home not long after getting Juliet roped into her scheming plans for the summer, but that wasn’t the end of the list of people joining them at the summer camp that year. After telling their friends about her planned trip north to visit the future, Kona had managed to rope August and Zack into the group, using her knowledge of August’s people-pleasing tendencies and the ease with which Zack argued with her to her advantage. After practically begging August so that she "wouldn't have to go alone" and taunting Zack about him not wanting to go because he was too much of a wuss to climb the ropes course, it wasn't long before Kona sealed the deal, adding two more members to their ever-growing party.

What she had forgotten, however, was to tell the people in charge of bringing them that she had invited extra guests. 

It was quite the sight. They had shown up on their bicycles with their backpacks filled to the brim with clothes, ready to leave at a moment’s notice, only to find out that nobody other than Kona had any idea that they were joining them. Upon questioning, Bentley insisted he hadn’t known, something corroborated by August and Zack as they had simply been asking questions about what the camp was like, not if they could join. Faced with the reality that she had been too excited about the trip to think about asking anyone to let them join the already large group, Kona asked if it was alright, something Mick encouraged Butchy to agree to as the kids were already there and ready for the trip.

After arriving at the cabin, everyone had pretty much gone to their respective rooms and crashed, but with the five extra people under their roof, it wasn’t as simple as assigning rooms and hoping for the best. The upstairs rooms were filled easily by the usual suspects - Royce and Bentley took up their usual room while August and Zack shared an air mattress they pressed up against the dresser for the time being; Mick and Butchy had Mick’s old bedroom that still had a handful of glow-in-the-dark stars that no longer glowed plastered on the ceiling that was too high for anyone to get down without a ladder; then, Miles and Carrie had the room Miles’ had been given years prior - the scent of his cologne and, now, her perfume clinging to the walls. The only difference, really, was that Lela’s usual room was shared with Juliet and Kona - Kona using the plush, oversized chaise as a base of operations while the older girls decided to share the queen-sized bed for the next night or so until camp started.

Nobody really complained about their sleeping arrangements, not that anyone felt inclined to argue at all as the clock ticked over to two in the morning just as they walked in the door. Normally, Royce would have to bite his tongue to keep himself from complaining about the snoring that filled the room he now shared with not only his brother, but also Bentley’s friends. However, once his headphones were on and an ASMR video was playing just loud enough to block out the noise, he found himself drifting off in the hopes that he would wake up in a matter of minutes, wanting nothing more than to see his Vivien. When he woke up almost five hours later, the sun glaring through his bedside window, he had to force himself to go about his normal routine of writing something about the previous day in his journal as he realized Vivien wouldn’t be home from her final skating practice of the summer for at least half an hour.

Royce’s pen wiggled between his fingers, the nib tapping the pages of his open notebook with each downswing. He had been contemplating what to write for the greater part of a half hour already, yet nothing had come to mind apart from the only thought that consistently came to mind whenever he opened his eyes - Vivien. Was she on the ice already? Was she having a good day? Did she make herself another picture-worthy coffee with a foam heart in it? Would she show it to him later, even if it wasn’t? For what must have been the hundredth time since he woke up that morning, Royce turned toward the open window beside his bed and imagined her climbing in through it the way she almost always did while they were there.

Granted, Vivien didn’t know they were there. They weren’t supposed to arrive in Sanbornton for another day. Still, the idea of her setting the ladder against the house and climbing up to crawl into his bedroom window made Royce smile. Now that he had admitted it to not only himself but also to Vivien, he couldn’t wait to see her, wrap her in the tightest hug he could muster, and tell her how much he loved her. Two months was simply too long a time to go without her. Even though, technically, it had only been two weeks in his world since he had seen her, it had been almost two whole months for her. He had gone back with her to her graduation that took place just after April vacation, but had returned home after her family’s celebration with the excuse that he had to go back to school. He had missed her since the moment the Birch's van left her family’s driveway, but she had left his world on the first of June - his two-week wait a lot shorter than the month and a half she had to spend waiting for him.

His two weeks without contact with Vivien had felt like torture; he could only imagine how it must have felt for her to spend nearly two months without being able to contact him.

He knew he had to see her before all the workers began arriving at camp the next morning. He wasn’t going to be able to sit around, waiting for another day, knowing she was within walking distance from the house. Glancing around at his slumbering roommates, Royce took in a deep breath and scribbled out a note for his brother and friends on a spare piece of paper before slowly tearing it out of his journal so as to not make much noise. Making sure they were all still asleep, he quietly closed his journal and tucked it away under his pillow before slipping out of his bed, grabbing his phone, placing the note on his blanket, and making his way out of the room, grabbing a hoodie on his way out. Pulling the hoodie on over a t-shirt he was sure he had gotten from Butchy at some point, Royce rounded the banister and headed downstairs, avoiding the creaky steps to the best of his ability before padding over to the mudroom to slip on a pair of sneakers he had abandoned over winter break.

Sneaking into the garage and softly closing the door behind him, Royce jogged over to the bicycles he and Bentley had gotten dirt cheap at a garage sale, swiping away cobwebs and dust as he pulled his bike into the early morning sunlight that poured in from the still-open garage door. Forgoing his helmet for the short trip, Royce ensured his tires were full enough before swinging a leg over the bike and gliding down the small hill the Birch’s cabin was perched on. The air was crisp and clear as he pedaled down the street, morning dew still lingering on the grass and leaves as wind whipped through his hair, but Royce didn’t care about the way his cheeks burned or the way the rubber of the well-loved handlebars flaked onto his palms. He was going to see his girlfriend, and, frankly, that was all that mattered.

Smirking to himself as the O’Brian family’s winery came into view, the event barn on the edge of the property appeared first as he pushed himself to stand and push through the rest of the ride. The home’s large veranda was typically vacant; however, that morning, a head of honey-brown, nearly blonde hair swung limply from the porch swing as it creaked back and forth. Dismounting his bike as it rolled to a stop, Royce grinned and stepped up to the edge of the porch, reaching up to tug a strand of the person’s hair. Whipping her head back over the edge of the swing, Abigail’s olive green eyes widened as she realized just who had pulled her hair.

Nearly colliding with the wooden planks that made up the deck, Abby scrambled off the swing as Royce jogged up the stairs, her arms flinging around Royce’s middle as she laughed, “What the hell, man!”

Awkwardly patting Abby on the back, Royce chuckled, “Good to see you too, Abby.”

Releasing her sister’s boyfriend, Abby took a step back and glanced back at the house as she rested her hands on her hips, “Did you two keep this a secret or something, ‘cause that’s so not cool.”

Royce shook his head, tucking his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants, “Actually, she doesn’t even know I’m here yet.”

A smirk took over Abby’s face as her eyes practically glittered. She loved surprises, especially if she was one of the people working behind the scenes to make someone else happy. Being able to surprise her older sister - the same sister who prided herself on being some all-knowing, unsurprisable being - brought an almost maniacal laugh rippling through her. “Sissy’s gonna be pissed I saw you first. I hope you know that.”

With a soft laugh, Royce gestured to the front door and asked, “Is she upstairs?”

As she ascended the front steps once more, Abby shook her head, a sigh falling from her lips as she picked her Kindle up from where it had tumbled to the creaky veranda floorboards. “She’s out with Riven still. From what Riven told Dad on the phone, though, practice didn’t go well.”

As Abby sat back down on the swing, toeing her fluffy socks against the creaky boards to push herself back and forth slightly, Royce took in a deep breath and leaned against the railing, sighing out his question, “That Lexi girl didn’t stop in again, did she?”

Abby was quick to shake her head. “Thankfully, no. She’s fucked back off to Maine and is probably back to harassing the people up there.”

Relieved to know that Vivien’s ex-girlfriend was no longer trying to weasel her way into Vivien’s head, Royce crossed his arms over his chest and asked, “Any idea what happened, then?”

“I didn’t get the whole gist of the conversation,” Abby sighed, her shoulder just barely tugging into a shrug as she glanced out at the driveway, “but Dad said it would be a miracle if she made it home without working herself into a panic attack. Something about her dance teacher, I’m sure.”

Umber eyes rolled as Royce fought the urge to cuss out the elderly ballet teacher. He had met the woman twice in his nearly two-year-long relationship with Vivien, and neither time had been pleasant. Her constant remarks about Vivien’s “obvious lack of feminine grace” made Royce’s blood boil the longer he was subjected to her snarky, nasally voice, but it was her remark about his girlfriend’s “almost manly build and borderline morbid weight” that resulted in him having to be carried away by Riven. With the ease of someone who had been subjected to the old bitty’s torturous bullying, Vivien handled the woman with a blank face and calm tone, but Royce had a hard time refraining from lunging into the classroom and pushing the woman out the nearest window. He knew all too well how deeply the woman’s words hurt Vivien internally, especially as most of the things the woman took issue with were things Vivien couldn’t change about herself, but she always kept a stoic expression in front of the woman just to keep herself from scrambling to find a new teacher.

Glancing at the front door, Royce met Abby’s olive eyes and asked, “Think I should talk to your dad about it before she gets here?”

“Probably,” Abby nodded, shifting to lift her legs onto the swing, folding them, and resting her elbows on her thighs as she scanned Royce’s eyes. “Riven called Dad, so something has to be wrong, but since they’re not rushing to the hospital, I’d say there's a good chance it’s something psychological rather than something physical." The blonde thought for a moment and sighed, tipping her head to the side in a sort of shrug before tacking on, "Although, given how much Vivien hates hospitals, I guess we can't be sure. My advice: brace for the worst, but hope for the best.”

Nodding to himself as he sucked in a deep breath, Royce pushed off of the railing and headed for the door, turning back to offer Abby a small smile as he said, “Thanks, Abby.”

Brushing off his gratitude with a shrug, Abby grinned, “Anything to keep my favorite ship afloat.” Unlocking her Kindle and turning her attention to the novel on the screen as Royce pushed open the door, she called out, “I won’t tell her you’re here. She needs a happy surprise after this week.”

Poking his head back outside, Royce observed the middle O’Brian child for a moment, waiting until she slowly lifted her gaze from the device in her hands before saying, “Seriously, Abby, thank you.”

Although she had always gotten along well with Royce - even before her sister began dating him - Abby suddenly found herself grateful her sister had better taste in men than she did women. All things considered, Royce was a total upgrade from the psycho stalker Vivien was previously with. Nodding minutely at her fellow middle child, Abby allowed herself to smile as she said, “You’re welcome. Dad should be in his office, by the way. He’s avoiding Mom like the plague-” she paused to glance back at the event barn where she knew her mom was lurking, making sure the woman wasn’t outside before turning back to Royce and stage-whispering, “-and, TBH, I can’t blame him.”

Nodding in understanding, Royce lowered his voice and muttered, “Thanks for the heads up.”

Giving the nearly eighteen-year-old a mock salute, Abby turned back to her sticker-covered Kindle and said, “Godspeed, soldier.”