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alluringjae · 3 years

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until dawn; pt. II - ljn

part I | part II

⤑ summary: basic number one rule of the museum is not to touch the art. but no one told jeno that falling for one of them isn’t allowed either.

⤑ pairing: jeno x female reader

⤑ word count: 12.2k

⤑ genre: ANGST, fluff, romance, smut (f receiving, dom!jeno waow, dirty talk, wrap it everyone) | broke architecture major!jeno, historical figure!reader, enemies to lovers!au, college!au, night at the museum-inspired!au

⤑ warnings: references to actual historical figures, explicit language, graphic details, major heartbreak caused by another party, expect time jumps too

⤑ author’s note: happy jeno day!! i’ve been so excited to post this part, and i’m happy we’re here!! perhaps, this is the last long fic i’ll write for a while so i can rest, but i’ll still be posting short stories within the weeks to come! i’m excited for may to say the least hehe

btw, for the smut scene (indicated with **), i highly recommend you listen to strange (feat. hillary smith) by kris bowers!! this song is from the bridgerton soundtrack, and oh man, the feels!!

with that, enjoy!

italicized text either means they are personal notes or flashbacks.

this was meant to be more angsty, but either way, i screamed every time i wrote something gut-wrenching.

⤑ taglist: @renjunniehome

⤑ ctto above!!

⤑ leave me some feedback, constructive criticism, or hellos!

“You ready to get your butt beaten by me, Lee?”

“Prepare your final words when I win instead, (Y/L/N).”

Mischievous banter exchanged between you two became a new norm. Almost every night, someone within the art pieces established a contest over anything and it released the competitive sides of you two. So far, Jeno has been winning. Not like it hurt your pride, but maybe just once, you could conquer one game to feel better. Not only that, there’s a mini penalty for the loser. So far, you’ve cleaned up the lobby yourself and acted cutely to everyone the entire evening (or aegyo as Jeno called it).

Tonight, a game of archery was held by the Greek gods. They pushed away any extra pieces away, leaving the whole room vacant with two boards right beside Zeus’ throne. Numerous arrows were produced and sharpened, Zeus in the center announced to everyone participating.

“It’ll be 1 on 1 games. First to go are Jeno vs (Y/N), followed by Athena vs. Hermes, Cleopatra vs. Freddie, and last would be Hades vs Aphrodite.”

Cutting the chase, you didn’t expect Jeno to be that good at archery. Sure, he told you that he took classes with his friends for fun when he was younger, though it showed that he’s a fast learner and even hit one bullseye in the middle of the game.

Not slightly threatened until the last rounds, you fixed your aim and lessened your overthinking when preparing to shoot. Thus, you scored 2 bullseyes shot. It was a close fight, having the audience on the edge on their feet again because it’s the two of you. Your dynamic with the night guard always elevated the mood, shifting their bets over and over again.

By 1 point, you received your first victory against Jeno. Unlike you, he showcased his sportsmanship sweetly without any comments of disbelief. He’s never bragged about anything big in his life, not unless it’s a high grade for his plate. Normally, he celebrated wins in a laid-back manner. But don’t be fooled: he loves giving penalties.

“This is why I don’t make bets with my friends because I really go for their weak spots.”

“You’re cynical, Lee Jeno.”

“Only if you’re close to me, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Aren’t we already past that stage?”

Almost halfway through his job, he sustained a meaningful friendship with you. Out of everyone, you were his default person to hang out within the nights he had a shift. If he wasn’t present, he made sure to give you small treats or gifts as much as possible. An innocent friendship, it was that the world would’ve never believed in.

Or was it?

“To celebrate your win, what do you want me to do?”

“You’re too kind for me to play around with, even if you’re the complete opposite of me.”

“I’ll make it simple and worthwhile since I don’t know when I’ll win a game again.” As your finger tapped your temple as you pondered deeply, a smart idea came through. “Grant me 3 wishes.”

He chuckled, lowering himself to view you better. “Am I like some genie now to you?”

“No room to complain, I won, didn’t I?” You grinned, raising one brow to show your dominance.

“You’re petty in your own way, aren’t you?”

“Perhaps. Now come on, I want to use my first wish.” You shrugged it off like no big deal, loving the high feeling of triumph. You lead him to the center of the lobby, where a beautiful grand piano only selected people get to play during exhibits. “Open the museum piano.”

Ever since you were brought to life, you never used it. Tempting but because people from the outside might here, maybe it’s time to try something new. A new challenge, and besides, you missed entertaining people through it. The last time you touched the delicate piano keys was to your family before you ran away.

It’s a good thing that in the shackle of keys Jeno held, the needed key was there. Unlocking the lustrous black instrument, you sat by the matching black bench. Crackling your fingers, you tested by pressing a few keys to get the hang of it again.

“What are you planning to play, (Y/N)?” Jeno leaned against the side, his arms crossed.

Humming the first notes of your piece, the nostalgia ran through your veins. “Nocturne No. 2 in E flat by Chopin.”

Your fingers took off and played each chord slowly and calmly. This piece reminded you the most of your mother, who sat by the couch in front of your old piano with your father while guests from the party they hosted crowded around you. Being the youngest, they often requested you to perform as entertainment so you always put your best foot forward. Or so you tried.

Nevertheless, no one else in your family was capable to play this piece as perfectly as you. By the way your eyes closed and your body swayed to the mellow tune, Jeno observed how you memorized this piece by heart. A passionate flame you were, outshining every pianist out there.

He wasn’t surprised at how multi-talented you were, though there’s a different kind of aura you present when you played the instrument. From your hard and tough front, you could be soft and sweet to the right people.

In a way, you showed your comfort toward the boy by serenading him with the piano. Sketching him with him in the past was one thing, but this was another. You’d sketch with people you’ve grown used to, but you play piano to people you want to cherish in your life. As dangerous as it seems, Jeno was someone special to you, only wanting to have good moments with him.

Junmyeon will always have a huge part in your museum life, but Jeno filled the emptiness that he left behind. This loneliness for a human friend vanquished thanks to Jeno, and you didn’t want to jeopardize it at all. Sure, whenever he acted like a gentleman around you, let you inside the Foreign Art Room, or brought you food sometimes, you couldn’t help feel honored.

Though lately, every time he showed off his strength when he defeated Zeus and Hades during an arm wrestle game the god held again. You seriously had to catch a breath at every flex his arms made, like the goddesses. Maybe how he pushed his black hair back when he’s drawing another plate, you’d give yourself a few extra seconds to see his long fingers skim through them. He’d bit his lower lip when he’s in too deep with his creativity, wondering if he’d bite the lower lip of the girl he’d ki-

All right, (Y/N), relax. Maybe you’re thinking this way because it’s been decades since your last relationship. You wouldn’t want to fall for another possible trap and hurt yourself again, right?

Ever since this job, Jeno’s university life drastically changed. Yes, he still hung out with his friends and performed extremely well in his classes, though he prioritized anything related to the museum wherever he was. If they were drinking out, he’d buy an extra bottle of soju for you on his way back to the dorm. Rarely does he get shitfaced anyways.

If he and Renjun visited the bookstore to purchase pens or any art-related materials, he always bought either an extra sketchpad or set of pens. Even if you were simply a figure to everyone else, he appreciated the bond you both developed.

Every night, he’d tell you about his day from the start. Normally, it consisted of a lot of schoolwork and coffee, some stories about his roommates too. Speaking of them, he’d insert a lot of humorous words about his entire group of friends, whom you learned their names too.

Mark, Jaemin, Renjun, Jisung, Chenle, and Donghyuck, each of them presented a different color in their group. Jeno, who’d admitted to being shy and quiet, grew out of his shell because of them. A friend of Jeno’s would automatically be a friend of yours, if only you were allowed to leave the museum or become a human.

Jeno learned more about your past explorations that never got documented because you no longer had an interest in jotting them down. They were adventures you’d kept to yourself, memories only close to you then would know. Except now, Jeno was another addition. You’re not the type to instantly open to people, though again, a sense of relief surrounded him every time you encounter each other. It grew gradually like a warm hug, softening your heart and breaking your walls.

The more he spent time with you, nothing feared Jeno the slightest. He’s always maintained himself intact, avoiding lines to be crossed and giving respect to those who deserve it. However, he began to question himself where exactly his feelings lie with you after Jaemin tried to set him up on a blind double date just so the best friend of his date wouldn’t feel left out.

He’s rarely one to get crushes on people, even when other girls in his college openly showed their affection towards him. Valentine’s Day or his birthday, several girls sent him chocolate or flowers. Jaemin and Renjun got sick of girls reaching out to them first so they could reach him. It’s not because he’s not the dating type, but because he’s so goal-oriented that unlike his roommates, he doesn’t have a slight clue about dating.

Though one-night stands while at a party and dating were completely different, he’d still say he had experience with girls. Plus having an older sister, he never took advantage of them. He’d rather tell them in person that the feelings weren’t mutual than ghosting them. He’s not like Jaemin anyways.

With that, he’s so lost when his heart beats twice as fast the second you’ve woken up from your posing slumber. He doesn’t comprehend how flustered he’d be when you highly insist to help him with his plate or how cute he finds it when you’re playing fetch with Mochi. On top of it, when you chose to sketch each other for one of your sketching sessions, he’d take a longer stare at your visage before he drew some strokes.

A lot of historical accounts mentioned how your beauty was the standard of the Victorian era, wherein you were the jewel of your neighborhood and numerous men wanted your hand. Women envied you, especially having high intelligence skills that were equivalent to a man. That time, that felt like a threat to most men. Though surprisingly, it turns out there were men who liked intelligent girls.

Jeno knew he liked you as a friend, though liking you past that he didn’t intend. Nor was it allowed because it’ll break one of the golden rules. Before he’d go beyond contemplating, he had to stop himself. This was so unlike him. The feelings will fleet away, he’d repeat to himself. Don’t waste a great friendship because of your silly emotions.

Individually, both of you swallowed these harboring feelings down your guts and simply kept your friendship status safe. Doing your typical activities or whatever else you could think of, none of you minded to change it whatsoever.

Unknown to you though, it was obvious to the other art pieces ones that you two practically passed off as young lovers. Although they know that pushing one towards the other went against the rules, Aphrodite begged to differ.

“Holding them back from expressing what they really feel just because of the law here is a tragedy. They should at least try, you know?”

On another typical night, Jeno invited you to the Theater Room for a movie marathon. After finding out that you’ve never seen any moving pictures, he wanted to be there to introduce it. Luck was on his side to not have plates or requirements due for the week and everyone was behaving themselves, so he started with rolling out short films from the 88mm projector. Having premade popcorn and drinks, the two of you shared roars of laughter and emotional tears.

Switching to the cd player for longer and clearer films, you’d opt to believe that you were born at the wrong time. With all these advancements, it came with a lot of new beliefs. One of them was allowing women to study and work. Then again, she was a pioneer according to historians. Without her, it wouldn’t help shape society as it is today.

Nonetheless, this movie Jeno played on the big screen was what he defined as “one of the classics”, 10 Things I Hate About You.

This outspoken character named Kat was presenting a poem to her class, trying to hold in her raw emotions towards Patrick, the boy who broke her heart. Too engaged, you didn’t notice how Jeno stretched his arms out so he could wrap one around your shoulder. Not that you were complaining, his warmth reassuring you safety.

“I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme. I hate it, I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie.” The way she attempted to keep her strong ground only reminded you of where you were weeks ago, especially once she excruciatingly broke down.

“I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.” Only when you leaned back to the chair, you felt his arm. His thumb caressing your covered shoulder, you peeked him a little bit. His eyes fixated on the screen, absorbed in the acting and how Kat’s tears weren’t scripted as she stormed out of the classroom.

Not that you were her, but it sparked the past memory of how you merely disliked him because of his job. But as a person, not even close, not even once did you hate him. How blessed that he never judged you for it, staying patient all this time.

Right before he could look back at you, you moved your face back to resume your watching. Jeno definitely noticed what you did, though not sure as to why. Whatever it was, it wasn’t harmful.

Once the film ended, Jeno checked his watch for the time. 4 am, he wanted to do something else now instead of film viewing. You were on par with it, wanting to walk it out after being seated for hours. As you both cleaned up and bid the posters outside goodbye, the doors to the museum were locked unexpectedly. Impossible on Jeno’s half because he had the keys for every room, but he double-checked his bunch.

Alas, the keys for these doors specifically were missing. But there was no other way anyone could’ve gotten it, plus it’s not like the last person he talked to, which was Aphrodite, would need it.

Or did she?

Rather than putting any blame on each other, your only wish now was to return to your section before sunrise. You and he could just relax momentarily before yelling for help.

“Maybe we should watch another film first?”

“Alright, you choose while I return the rest.”

As Jeno inserted the cd of Cinema Paradiso inside, the background music of the opening played. He hummed the first notes, already feeling the love from this film. Another must-see classic as recommended by Renjun, he wanted to rewatch it with you.

Slowly returning each cd and film roll to their respective drawers, the melodious theme had you waltzing in the small space. Even beyond your life, classical music never gets old. Aging like fine wine, sounding spectacular as time passes because of people’s creativity.

Jeno gazed over your sudden movements, smiling uncontrollably at how immersed you were as you multi-tasked. However, you took a wrong turn by the desk and almost dropped a priceless film roll. But before you fully slipped and fell, a pair of strong arms caught you at the right time. Panting from the nerves, mostly when he was inches from your face. Never has he pressed his body this close to you to protect you, and never have you seen his captivating eyes this up close.

As enchanting as the background music of Ennio Morricone was, it only became noise once Jeno took ahold of the film roll on your hand and placing down on the desk. Taking another step closer, you were backed up by the edge. Not to mention how his height dignified his impact on you, your arms were still situated by your side with nowhere else to go.

That was until his finger elevated your chin so he could meet you on eye-to-eye level. His other hand gripping your waist, you became brave enough to place your hands by his broad shoulders. Licking your lips, you glanced at his lips quickly. But he noticed it, and as risky as this was, it was a leap of faith to take.

“May I kiss you?”

Always such a gentleman, even when he already knew how much you desired him through your returning affections. Calming your breath patterns by the speed of everything occurring, you came back to your senses. He’s the one who constantly told you not to forget your roots, so you were going to take this one.

You trust him, and he does too.

“Yes.”

Since the first film, some kind of tension increased the closer he moved or intimate his actions were towards you. You kept pushing it back in hopes not to ruin what you both have. But it only turned out to be mutual, especially how none of you held back as soon as his lips passionately clashed yours.

Tangling your arms around his neck, you stood on your tiptoes to press even closer to him. Feeling his lively heart pumping against your hollow chest, you bit his lower lip. Something you’ve secretly craved to do, he growled from the pleasure. He hoisted your waist to the desk, his impatient hands earnestly traveling all over your body. While your legs locked around his torso, your feisty nature leaned back so your entire body lied on the small desk.

Jeno was on top, placing one hand down to hold himself while the other squeezed your waist firmly. Even if you’re made of wax, you’re like an actual living woman at night. Everything about you becomes real until dawn. You emitted vulgar moans, giving him more access to your neck. Peppering a mix of soft to hard kisses, your hand teasingly snaked under his shirt. He really wasn’t joking when he bragged that he was quite ripped since he enjoyed sports and going to the gym, cupping a part of his toned abdomen.

“If you want something, all you have to do is ask.” He sluggishly sucked the area between your ear and neck, one of your weakest spots. “What’s on your mind, baby?”

The growing moistness in between your legs left a stain in your panties, trying to close your legs out of embarrassment. It’s been decades since you’ve been stimulated like this. However, Jeno beat you to it as he trailed the hand that was on your waist and lowering it right above your covered sex. He cupped it agonizingly slow, making you folding your leg from the pleasure. For a man who doesn’t date around, he knew exactly what he’s doing.

“I just kissed you, and you’re already this soaked. Can you handle me, baby?”

As the strong woman that you present yourself to be, it would selfishly take the right touch from the right man to weaken you. With his savage lips back on yours while your hands clutched on his shirt, he was simply waiting for a verbal answer, yet driving you completely mad. Everything was happening so fast, and here he was to please you in anywhere you seem fit.

You were deprived, and oh, you needed it more than ever.

However, seconds before you replied, there was loud rumbling from the main doors which stopped your devilish antics. As Jeno moved back from you to see the ruckus, you lifted yourself back up, pulling back your dress sleeves and flattening out the creases. The last thing you wanted was a trail of familiar red marks from the aggressive male, finding any reflective surfaces to check.

“I wouldn’t be that dumb to leave you hickies now, would I?” Jeno ended your worries as he placed his hands by your side again. His face leaned towards yours again, reliving the warmth in your cheeks. His lips were plumper, catching traces of your coral lipstick smudged there down to his jaw. He slotted himself again between your legs, grazing a hand on your waist and the other to your warm cheek. “The door’s unlocked now, and it’s 5 am. Do you want to clean up now?”

You playfully scoffed, aware that neither of you had plans to do that yet. Such a player while in the heat of the moment.

“Spare me 15 more minutes with you first.”

Hiding the romance you’ve both built failed without trying. Aphrodite spotted all the signs from your open physical affection and words of admiration, calling you two out in front of everyone without shame. She is the goddess of love, after all. You couldn’t fool her even if you tried.

Plus, she’s the one who locked the two of you up in the Theater Room that night. But neither of you know that.

“Sketch my ideal home?” Jeno bent down to the table, testing out his newly bought pens so they wouldn’t spill.

“Isn’t that why you decided to pursue Architecture in the first place? Come on now!” You pestered across him, opening your new sketchpad since your last one ran out of pages. As expected, Jeno bought you one when he went to the bookstore. As much as you insisted not to because he should use the money somewhere else, he did it anyway. He loved your works, encouraging you in any way he could.

When he was reminded of his humble beginnings of his passion for architecture by you, never had he envisioned exactly how his perfect home would be like. Settling down was so far beyond his mind, only focusing to graduate university then study for the licensure exams. However, he did miss drawing something for fun, not as a requirement. He also was the one who took charge of designing his dorm.

“Fine, only if you draw what your ideal home would’ve been if you never left London.”

Now as lovers, the only addition to your relationship were the public and private exchanges of affection. Deep conversations, film viewing, back and forth banter, you’re both still the same competitive duo everyone expected to be together. In public, the two of you held hands, hugged, kissed each other cheeks too when it felt right. Cleopatra’s face of fake nausea was priceless every time, while Princess Diana, Anne, and Katherine enjoyed it. It’s been years since they’ve seen this glow of adoration in you. Bit by bit, you’re going back to the old you. Except now, you’re a lot stronger.

Perhaps, this version of you proved wrong for the need for romance. Even if you made the choice not to settle down then, it would’ve been different if Jeno was in your universe then.

“Are you done there?” Jeno asked while you were finishing up your masterpiece. Life in London sounded fun when you were younger, having all these ideas on interior design and the like. An innocent time.

Instead of replying, you strode to his side and compared your pieces together. He pictured a two-story home, with a backyard and rooftop area. He definitely wanted to stay in the city as his whole life was based there. Although you preferred living in the countryside more for more freedom, you gave it a shot by pinpointing every detail of a wealthy typical Victorian-era home you liked. You desired a spacious lobby with a grand staircase in the middle, a crystal chandelier there too. The living room would have a small library and a grand piano, where wide doors leading to the grasslands were beside it.

Considering you two lived from different times, in a way your ideal homes were similar. Somewhere private, surrounded by nature and minimal furniture, you’re curious as to how it would look if the two of you fused them together. A mix of old and new, will it look pretty?

“What will look pretty?” Jeno questioned your random thought, looking back and forth at your sketches. “You know who’s pretty though?”

“If you say what I think you’re going to say, I’m lea-”

“You.”

Jeno has gotten flirtier since that night, always finding the right opportunity to flatter you. Although you denied them out of embarrassment, the butterflies in your stomach can’t lie to you.

You’re so smitten, and so was he.

Jeno’s always one to follow the rules, but so far, he’s been breaking some of them already.

Just last night, he gave Renjun access to the lively museum because he needed more research regarding you. Initially, he practically interviewed Jeno for every piece of information he gathered because he used to be so deep in the books to study everything about you. Now in the past, Renjun still couldn’t forget how Jeno drunkenly admitted how crazy he was going to be over you and your coldness whilst sobering up in the dorm.

He didn’t understand one bit by that, especially when you’re technically dead. But by the sight of the first piece Renjun saw alive, which was Zeus, he almost passed out. Piece by piece, he viewed these artworks come to life from his fresh eyes. Right before he could’ve screamed when Athena shot a lightbulb in their exhibit, you happily called out Jeno’s name.

Renjun froze on the spot upon seeing your wax figure come to life. He’s browsed through this museum numerously due to the new exhibits, but lately, he checked your section out to find any tiny details that were linked to your life. Aside from the sketchpad, compass, and hairpins, he wanted to know if there was more to your life as an explorer.

As human interactions except the night guard weren’t allowed, Renjun needed help for his project in Women Studies. Just like Jeno’s assignment, you aided him. Fruitfully answering every question he gave you, Athena popped out of nowhere to inspect Jeno.

“I see you’re breaking another rule.”

“I’m sorry, Athena. He was desperate, and it would be selfish of me to let him fail.”

“This is the last one I’ll let slide, alright?” Athena huffed, not impressed by the reckless behavior Jeno acquired over time. She saw this coming, but for a change, she couldn’t punish him. He was a young adult, still learning more about life. Only will she step in if things turn for the worst. “I can’t believe I’ve gained a soft spot for you.”

Jeno laughed, hugging the figure like his older sister. “You love me though!”

Glad to say, Renjun aced his project and kept his word of not telling anyone about the happenings in Jeno’s job. Jeno even made a makeshift non-disclosure contract so Renjun wouldn’t spill the slightest details.

Lately, so much has been happening in the museum that having alone time with each other was rare. And when you did, the two of you made sure to maximize it and make every intimate moment count. From each touch, each longing kiss, each moan, and groan, never were you left hanging whether you’re at the Theater Room, Jeno’s office, or the Foreign Art Room.

The only time the two of you went beyond the boundaries was at the indoor garden. Jeno managed to get the key to it, lighting up some candles before you invited you inside. Thanks to the magic of the Greek gods, the cameras were bewitched to display fake imageries when security checks in the morning after.

Upon your deep conversations, you’ve mentioned once or twice about the indoor garden. It was the latest addition of the museum, opening in the early 2000s. Because it was a sacred place, no art piece was ever allowed inside.

Yet again, Jeno challenged the rules again when he invited you inside. A few minutes before, he set up some lights along the hallway of the garden, where he placed a blanket, a picnic basket, and his laptop right at the end of it. The best place to view everything, he just knew you’d love it.

He was undoubtedly right once you gasped at such a pretty sight. Seeing the silhouettes of various flowers and plants together with the night sky with all the stars sparkling, it was like you’re attending another ball with your sisters, who were looking for suitors then.

Once Jeno leisurely led you until the end, he brought out all the delicacies from the basket. One of them was this Italian savory dish of dough with toppings such as cheese and pepperoni, or pizza as they named it. The next ones were fresh strawberries and melted chocolate, followed by grape juice.

“I’d drink actual alcohol with you again, only if I didn’t get shitfaced and do my job properly.”

“Point taken. Besides, this is close enough. So pour me a drink please.”

Perhaps this was the closest to a date Jeno could ever ask you out to. With the restrictions and being constrained with time, he brainstormed all sorts of ways to bring the outside world to you. From simply letting you wander around this fascinating room, he unleashed the inner romantic in him. None of his friends would’ve thought since they never asked him about it, so he kept it to himself only. Finally, he’s satisfied with what he prepared. After eating, the two of you would watch more films before the sun rose again.

You’re just the right person for him at the moment he can act that way.

After your quiet stroll and sitting back down, Jeno surprisingly handed you a tiny box.

“A gift?”

“Open it.” He sipped on his juice, paying attention to your actions. Gently untying the box, the amazement in your eyes couldn’t fathom such a lovely present. No words were required to verify that Jeno outdid himself again, just your facial expression alone is enough.

When Jeno said that he pays attention to the tiny details, he doesn’t bluff. Throughout your growing relationship, you’ve cited how you wanted another special flower in your life. Just because you couldn’t view lavender roses the same way ever again, it didn’t mean you wanted to kick them out of your life. Flowers were one of nature’s beautiful creations, so you’re wishing to find the love you once had for lavender roses in other ones.

Thus, you came across what you thought held the highest form of meaning: red roses. Despite its thorns, it’s still a marvelous flower. Innocently, you told him that just because of the memory of your father giving them to your mother on her birthday yearly.

Red roses represented true love and romance, a discreet message only those eager would know.

Jeno was one of them, which was why he reserved this gift for this very moment. It was a necklace he found through a college fair recently, a subtle red rose pendant in the center. Since he couldn’t give you huge gifts, he settled for something light. Something none of the guards or the director wouldn’t pinpoint out when they do their inspections.

“Do you like it?”

Not one utter from your mouth since you’re so hypnotized, your lips quirked up in a charming smile. “Is that even a question? This is astonishing, Jeno.”

After you attempted to put it around your neck, Jeno sighed and stepped in to help you out. “Turn around, (Y/N). Let me.”

The tension gradually heightened once you held your hair up so Jeno accessibly viewed your clean neck. Clasping the lock, it took all his might to hold himself back from you. Even from behind, your silhouette was attractive to him. The lights he set up weren’t helping the slightest of what he’s thinking to do with you.

“Done.” He breathily whispered in your ear.

If he thought he was the only one feeling something powerful, he’d be more than wrong. The lingering sensation of his slim fingers gracing your décolletage area unhinged another kind of want, the one you’ve only imagined in your mind when you were needy and alone. It shouldn’t be a sin unless you’re with the person you’ve fallen for, right?

Facing him again, the eye contact didn’t last long when you were the first one to strike a move. Jeno kissed back right away, his hands pulling you closer by your waist. Whatever sultry music Jeno played, it gave you the perfect momentum to grind on his lap. He groaned against kisses, adding his tongue. His thumbs sensually rubbed your hipbones, one of your hands toying around with his hair while the other one balled up his shirt by the chest. None of you cared if anyone caught you.

The last time you’ve been this aggressive was at the Theater Room, which eventually increased the hidden lust you’ve had towards each other. Taking things slowly at first, it’s about time to delve in for more. The mood was already set from the start, even if Jeno didn’t plan this to happen here. But being the prepared man he is, he did have a condom in his back pocket.

Your fingers trailed from his neck until his crotch. He was hard, sensing how suffocated he must be. But he kept himself in control. Locking eye contact, you sweetly spoke.

“Grant my second wish, Jeno.” That same hand of yours held one of his, planting it in your breast. “Make love to me.”

Giving the go-signal, he crashed his lips on yours while stripping you off your dress. Carefully, he turned you around to untie your tight corset. Once it fell, your neck leaned sideways as his lips attacked it madly. Your breaths were tremulous, placing both his hands on your freed breasts to knead with. His touch felt like fire on your skin, yet you couldn’t stop.

“Jeno,” Obscene moans from your lips choked out. You desired more, shifting back to face him again to attack his lips. Slowly feeling one of his hands laying you down, you spread your legs with ease just for him. He parted after your head landed on the cushion to unbutton himself. The way your mouth dropped to selfishly stare at his bare body, flexing them before getting back into position. He was fit and toned just as Cleopatra predicted.

As much as Jeno knew how wild your thoughts were getting, he was more taken aback by your perky chest.

“Fuck, you are divine.” He sucked one nipple as his fingers ventured to slip your panties down. So much was going on, you didn’t know which stimulated you more. You tried to close your legs around his hand, but he slapped your inner thigh to stop you.

The cool breeze shivered you, especially from your core. Jeno’s fingers adventurously grazed from your hip area to your lower lips. He teasingly rubbed it up and down in your essence, his index finger settling it right at your needy clit. Another moan escaped your lips, an opportunity for Jeno to slide his tongue in your mouth. Enjoying the moment, his fingers dipped inside you. A gasp broke your kiss, making him giggle in your ear.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Oh, angel. The things I want to do with you.”

Sliding them back and forth, curling it even, you squirmed for more. Dropping himself to meet your core, Jeno placed your legs on his shoulder. Pushing you closer, his steamy breath felt like friction. Your hips grinded against it, so he gripped on them so you stay put.

“Angel,” He chuckled darkly, his crotch tightening at how powerless you looked. “You’re so pretty.”

You were drenched from arousal. But to Jeno, you were glowing under the lights. He wanted to take his time to admire what he had done to you. His independent girl, only weak for him.

His fingers unfolded in your lower lips, diving in to your orbit. You could hardly speak from his skilled mouth, especially his tongue savagely lapping your clit in numerous paces. You’ve only daydreamed about what it could do aside from kissing, and it exceeded your expectations. By the heated sensation that had the heels of your feet digging his back deeply, you affirmed to have seen more stars than the night sky above you.

Your back arched uncontrollably while his hands grasped your hips to stay in place, the tears in your eyes formulating while tugging on his hair. Your thighs clenched around his face, but his broad shoulders widened it to taste more of you. No use of pulling away when his grip on you was tight, so you could only cry out from the pleasure.

“Fuck!”

The ringing sounds in your off were going off, your throat drying up from moaning once another orgasm was about to hit. Once the knot in you snapped, nothing could hold back your screams of pleasure whilst panting for air. Sensitive as he licked every remaining essence he caused, he smirked as he got up to unbuckle his jeans.

Oh, boy. He got quite a package behind his boxers.

Even while you were overly sensitive, you had to grasp it in your hands. He was yours, and you were his.

The way you clenched around his protected length, pausing to readjust yourself to the feeling. The foreplay deemed helpful, though the girth of him overwhelmed you. He stretched you out so good.

“Are you okay, (Y/N)?” The stunned face you made was expected, still feeling worried that it may be too much.

Biting your lip, you moaned once everything felt bearable. “You can move, Jeno.”

None of you could track exactly how many rounds you went through. Even in the semi-public area, it didn’t hinder either of you. There’s that thrill, and surprisingly enough, you both shared the liking of it. Always switching the positions, you decided to call it quits after another sloppy round in missionary. Something seeing Jeno on top, fully submitting yourself to him, made you feel calm to be vulnerable. It’s really the trust you’ve established from the start, making you rely on humans again once you’ve let the past be.

Jeno brought out another blanket, initially meant for cuddling. It was still applicable though, curling your body into a spoon towards his racing chest. Music was no longer noise, the intimacy creeping back instead of lust this time. The afterglow of Jeno, sweaty and knackered as his legs sprawled under the sheet, was a sight for sore eyes. He’s always been handsome while on duty, but post-sex gave him an extra boost.

Plus there’s pride from the red marks courtesy of you on his chest, grazing over it softly.

Jeno chuckled softly at your smooth fingers, lifting them up to kiss them tenderly before kissing your lips again. Only humans were capable of and to love, but you’re some kind of an exception. Regardless of the magic from the plate, you’d be able to love too if it weren’t for your background.

There’s so much love Jeno wanted to offer you, even if he hasn’t said it out loud yet.

Perhaps one reason was because time was beginning to tick. Finals were a few weeks away, then the one-month long semestral break until a new semester kicks off. Time really flew by, and his bank account and heart expanded too. Enjoying the now was all he could think of doing, but those uncertainties bothered him.

The biggest would be where you and he would stand when his job ended.

Jeno was too absorbed in his internal debate, as portrayed by his eyes staring off in space and running his hand in his hair repeatedly. Something was disturbing him, and you’re concerned as to what it was.

“Jeno,” Around his arm, you tapped his chest to get him out of it. “What’s going on in your head?”

Jeno approached every obstacle he faces straightforwardly, not wanting to let him hold back. Rarely did he keep secrets, especially from you. Instead of hiding away, he voiced it out.

“(Y/N), will we work out?”

“What do you mean, Jeno?”

You’re so occupied in the present that thinking of the future was never in your field. Like him, you’re just enjoying being in the moment. Though after tonight, it’s making you wonder if there’s a future.

“Well,” He placed his hand on top of yours, affectionately observing you. “Times flies faster when you’re having fun, and well, the semester is ending.”

His last words crushed a part of your heart, remembering his initial plan. None of you expected your friendship to bloom into what it is now, but life was just full of surprises without a schedule. At the same time, none of you wouldn’t have it any other way.

It may have been a few months since you two committed to each other, but the spark was still strong. It wasn’t like a summer romance kind of feeling. Time was not a determinant of love either, which you were certain of it with Jeno. A lot more than Junmyeon.

It should’ve frightened you when you realized your love for Jeno, but it didn’t. Even if you didn’t age physically, your mindset did. You’ve learned to forgive your younger self, and through Jeno, you let your guard down completely. From that, you let love in. Platonic to your fellow art pieces, and all of the above to Jeno.

Throughout your relationship, you regained all confidence in yourself and everything you set your mind to.

“I wouldn’t want to worry too much about it if I were you.” Your body flipped to lie on your stomach, resting your head on your palm.

“Why shouldn’t I, angel?”

Gazing back at him, you left a velvety kiss on his lips to rest his thoughts. His hand wrapped your neck, deepening it. But you pulled away with a giggle, all too knowing of his secret intentions as his cock began to harden again. His eyes narrowed down and his lower lip stuck out at your attempt of being a tease.

But enough about sex, you wanted to address a point.

Lee Jeno was going to be the biggest risk you wanted to take and fight for, and no one should try to stop you.

“I’ll ask Circe for a potion. For me, for you, for us.”

If it weren’t for insistent questioning towards every art piece, who kept their mouths shut, only Circe herself banished him from his suffering. Her series of potions varied, and the one you requested years ago which you threw out was capable of turning any art piece into a living human. No potion of Circe ever failed, so you entrusted your life for the day you do drink it.

“Are you sure, angel?”

Jeno knew about that one specifically, and as great to hear that you never threw it out, he never put pressure on you. He wanted you to do whatever felt right, even if deep down, he wished you’d use it. He was only worried about how the flow of the entire museum would be disrupted.

Typical Jeno always looking out for you, but you saw right through his concern. Here you were, caressing his check as reassurance. With an honest smile,

“I’ve never been more certain with anything in my life here until you came, Lee Jeno.”

Jeno opened up more to his life outside the museum, telling all sorts of experiences not just his days as a university student. From his childhood, his family, his travels, heck you even want to meet his friends at this point!

Newly, he shared with you how the sunrise and sunset looked like in Seoul with much vivacity. It’s a luxury as a human to witness as day breaks and ends, so you could imagine by yourself how it would look like. Sure, you had drawings and all, but that was from the real (Y/N) (Y/L/N).

This version of you wanted to live more; that’s your greed now.

“You’ve never touched snow too, right?” Jeno, who had his arm wrapped around you, silently watched the first batch of snow from inside.

“Yup, that’s the thing when you’re imprisoned in this place.” You sulked by his side, earning a chuckle from him who pulled you in closer.

“Don’t tell me now that you despise this place.”

“I don’t, but it hinders me to experience new things. The whole pattern of being awake at night by a plate gets tiring, Jeno.”

All Jeno would do when you’re frustrated was placing your head on his shoulder, listening as you talk.

“I know, angel. But it won’t be long until you leave this place with me, right?”

“You know it!” You interlocked your hands with him, eyes trained at every falling snowflake.

Sometimes, moments in silence with Jeno were all you needed for the night. Being within each other’s presence, focusing or admiring something from afar, it was all the peace you’ve needed from the bustling art pieces.

This week was the last of the semester, and Jeno’s off duty for tonight to focus on his exams. You’ll see him tomorrow night, which was his last shift ever, and also yours too.

Perhaps the biggest milestone you’re committing to without any regrets.

However, it took an unnecessary conversation you accidentally eavesdropped on to rock your decision.

You needed more ink after running out mid-way of sketching the sculptures as a secret parting gift. Before you could take a single step inside your exhibit room, a series of voices were full-on arguing. Booming back and forth, you peeped your ear out whilst hiding against the door.

“Athena, how dare you did to her?! She’s done so well from moving on from it, falling in love even! And now you’re telling me this?!” The distinct voice of Princess Diana, who spoke sweetly most of the time, boomed towards the Greek god. “You’re heartless.”

“I did what I had to do for the sake of this place, Diana!” Athena raised her voice, the lightning in her hands holding back from lashing out. She hated it when anyone argued with her, especially when she does things according to what she believed was necessary. Out of everyone, she had more leadership. “She had to know that her place is here as a wax figure, not outside. Talking Junmyeon out of it was for the best, plus it’s ideal when he drank the potion of memory loss from Circe.”

“But it tore her apart when he left her, and it’s going to tear her again if you do the same with Jeno.”

“How else are you going to approach the situation then, Diana? Those two have broken the highest golden rule, so they need to wake up.”

Right when she celebrated within herself for healing, hearing the unbearable revelation behind the past devastated you. This whole time, she internally blamed herself for being ageless and lashed out at others. The scary past barged back in, and you couldn’t handle it anymore.

Somewhere in the corner, you wept without a trace. You could care less about Athena’s opinions, but you found yourself agreeing to some of her words. You had a role to fulfill, and leaving that behind would be selfish and it could make the museum go topsy-turvy. As painful for Junmyeon to leave you, it was because the truth hurts. Nothing could change it, even if Circe could be your solution because it’ll leave a lot of questions. You didn’t want Jeno to be seen as a suspect.

Oh, Jeno.

There’s nothing wrong with falling in love either, you didn’t intend it to happen. But it becomes unfair when it compromises with your purpose, and that’s not how you are. You’ll always remember Jeno as your biggest risk, though it’s time to end things. Treacherous as it was to accept for you, risk-takers have boundaries too.

Fast forward, on the night of Jeno’s last shift, you’ve cherished every second with him. Playing around, chatting with other art pieces, kissing in private, you made it count. Before dawn broke, that’s where you chose to come clean by the garden, your sacred place. Not even your self-reassurance could prepare you to witness the hurt and confusion Jeno felt.

“You’re a mortal, and you still get to choose your path. Mine is already predetermined here as a wax copy of a historical figure.” You advised as you held both his hands, your voice shaking at the reality.

A few days ago, you were beaming with exhilaration at a new journey but now you’ve permanently backed out. Jeno couldn’t comprehend, and as much as he tried, he couldn’t. A life without you by his side would be empty and dull. “Even so, there are things about you that the original person didn’t have.”

Arguing with him wasn’t your favorite, and it’ll leave the two of you in a bad mood. But there is no way to negotiate this; you’ve already made up your mind. “We must end this, Jeno. You need someone who can grow old with you, and I can’t be that person for you.”

“But we can make it work!” His hands gripped on your slumped shoulders, whilst your face avoiding his to spare yourself from the heartache. “There’s still Circe.”

“I know, but recently, I found out that she’s an indirect cause of my misery.” Pulling away from his touch, you belted with frustration. “I cannot do this anymore, Jeno.”

You’ve always fought for whatever you wanted in life, and Jeno knew he was one of them if it weren’t for you telling him that. So he did the same, thinking of ways to make you feel whole. Now, he couldn’t tolerate the sudden crumbling of his heart from your outburst, and all he wanted to know was why you felt this way. How could he help you?

You don’t keep secrets from Jeno, but the truth behind your harsh actions cannot be revealed for the sake of the museum. Plus, you didn’t want him to despise this place he admired. Causing him pain wasn’t on your list, but keeping him safe was. It may be shown differently and he may not understand it now, but over time, he will.

“Jeno, you’ll find someone better out there. Someone with their whole life ahead of them, who’ll love you for everything that makes you who you are.” Repetitive punches in your guts urged you to barf at your half-lie, but you held it in.

“Why are you pushing me away? What happened to taking risks, (Y/N)?” Jeno interrogated, taking your hands in his hands again. They unconventionally quivered, like his lips. Jeno has never cried in front of anyone, not even when he was younger. Though for you, he just might. “Am I not worth it for you?”

Dear heavens, he was wrong. You internally screamed that, but you can’t let your selfishness seize the night. As Athena said, you had to wake up from your dream. “Committing to you was my biggest risk of them all, Jeno. Everything else that went along with it, I don’t regret it one bit. But time’s really up for us, and we must resume our normal duties.”

“I can’t lose you, (Y/N).”

“You never will, Jeno.”

He crouched lower to meet your height, his finger moving your head so you’d look at him back. Weakly enough, you did. “I want you to be a part of my normal life, angel.”

“I’ll always be here, you know. I’ll be standing in my usual spot upstairs, and you can drop by whenever you can.” You pressed your lips, lifting your head to avoid incoming tears. Meanwhile, he began shedding a few. You’ve hurt him big time, and you’ll never forgive yourself for this. “I still have one wish, right?”

Jeno’s sorrow was beyond his capacity, leaning his forehead against yours to kiss it. No matter what he could say or do, he already knew it won’t be effective. You’re affirmative in your choices, yet he still wanted to challenge it. All he wanted to know was why you’re doing this.

“Let me walk you one last time to your section.”

The black night sky had remnants of blue, motioning that dawn was approaching. Other figures gave their goodbyes to Jeno earlier, cleaning up their areas before they pose. Though none of them anticipated such a cold atmosphere between you two, they could only spy on what was bound to happen.

“My last wish is for you to let me go, Jeno.” You avowed, blinking your eyes with faux positivity. Your hands patted his blazer so it wouldn’t crease. “I already have a role to fulfill here, and you’re on the way to yours, future architect.”

“I love you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Only tonight did he muster his courage to finally admit it to you after giving himself more time to analyze it. Timing was always crucial, and the badness of it showed.

Deep in your heart, you resonated the feeling. But it’ll make things more complicated, and it was the final thing you’ve wanted to occur. Someone had to be the strong one, and now, it should be you. With one more compassionate kiss on his lips, you stepped inside your section and readied your position.

“Goodbye, Lee Jeno.”

The sunshine brightened the room, and you’ve frozen to slumber again.

All Jeno could do was drop on his knees, sobbing over your rash actions. Unknown to him, a single tear left your eye as you posed.

Regardless of what status you were in, the pain of it all remained.

Jeno spent most of his semestral break with his friends to travel or whatnot, trying to forget it all. Even if he aced all his finals, his efforts felt like nothing if he never had you by his side to celebrate.

The sting over his short-lived romance with you never diminished the slightest, no one whom he could express his pain about it to especially when Renjun drank the memory wipe potion that Athena initially left for Jeno by his desk.

Forget it all, and live a peaceful life. You have so much potential, my mentee.

- Athena

Perhaps this was the same thing Junmyeon drank all those years ago, but unlike him, he didn’t have the guts to. He still wanted another chance.

So every day since the new semester began, he spent every afternoon break at your section. He’ll be seated by the bench, doing his assignments and talking about his day while sometimes stealing a glance of your figure. Some habits don’t change.

He never got sick of the same smile you exemplified, falling even more for you. He’ll often wonder what you’ve been up to.

What are your new sketches?

Are you taking care of Mochi well?

Have you apologized to Sanghoon yet?

Speaking of him, he surprisingly scooted over to Jeno’s side. This was the first time Jeno met the man, and politely enough greeted him. Sanghoon interviewed the boy, asking all sorts of questions that Jeno had every answer to. The biggest change that Sanghoon noticed since he left was your personality. You no longer bite, but treat everyone kindly without bias. You’re always active to help him out in cleaning the lobby, and you don’t go easily defensive.

Once he found out that Jeno was the reason for that, he was overjoyed at the start and wanted to meet him some way. You were a tough cookie, but now you relaxed. That was all that mattered to him, hoping to know more about him from you. That was until Diana stepped in and told him everything that happened. Mostly, the bad.

Playfulness eventually bore love. The last time you fell in love was in the 80s and Junmyeon pushed you away, he recalled. This time, you’re pushing Jeno away because you simply agreed with Athena’s points.

This wasn’t right, but it wasn’t his place to interfere.

But then again, he finally caught Jeno for the first time today and this time, he was open to hearing his side of the story. Lessen his misery too.

“No matter how stubborn she is, she loves you.” He advised him, bringing out one of your full sketchbooks. As Jeno opened it, the majority of the portraits were him. Sleeping, smiling, laughing, you drew him from every minor detail you could spot like the mole near his eye and his crescent eyes.

A handsome face I would never get sick until the end of time. Someone I want to wake up to every day in the morning if it weren’t for that plate.

- (Y/N)

Towards the end, a sketch of a house unfolded. The interior was a fusion of modernity and old royal design due to its white walls, wide space, and the placing of less furniture, plus an open backyard. There’s another tiny comment on the side from you.

I was right. Joining our varying designs together is pretty. Maybe Jeno and I could live in a house like this one day.

- (Y/N)

If you loved him so much, why did you let him go then when you had all these plans with him? Even if he tried to understand, he just didn’t.

“Don’t give up just yet when she told you to.”

“Are you just saying this or something?”

“Well, Princess Diana passed this message on but after everything, I believe that she’s right.” Sanghoon gave his opinion, but Jeno was reluctant to accept it.

“I never got a proper explanation why she suddenly changed her mind, Sanghoon.” He ranted, raking his hand through his hair from puzzlement. “Did I do something wrong?”

Sanghoon pitied him, having the upper hand and questioning himself whether to reveal the truth. However, since this boy took the job, he’s succumbed to secrecy. Without any transparency, it could drive someone mad. He’s too young for that, so Sanghoon breathed in defeat and placed his hand on Jeno’s shoulder.

“Promise me you won’t be mad when I tell you because I was when I found out; almost screamed even.”

Jeno nodded, listening to whatever Sanghoon had to say.

Of all people, he never would’ve expected Athena to do such a brash thing. Someone he respected and trusted, only to betray him by doing something she believed was good for all. Except it wasn’t, and it ended up hurting you all these years. The woman he loved, now he’s a clearer understanding of why you did what you did. Yet, it can’t fix his excruciation.

Heartbroken was an understatement; he had no one to rely on. With Sanghoon, he finally had a proper breakdown. The older man could only comfort his quietly, picturing him like one of his sons going through a hard time in school. But if it involves the heart, it’ll take more time to recover.

“You’re always the one adjusting, Jeno. But I think this time, you’re the one who needs space.”

A Year and a Half Later

“Jeno Lee!!!” Jaemin roughly wallowed his best friend in a hug when he arrived in their dorm room for the first time in a long time. “You dyed your hair blonde again!”

Renjun, who was behind the two of them, only rolled his eyes as he helped carry Jeno’s bags. “God damn it, Jaemin! You’re supposed to be helping me first!”

“I know, but give me a few seconds! I’m just happy our group is back together!”

Jeno laughed at his friends’ annoying yet silly dynamics, giddy to be back home. For a year, Jeno spent his 3rd year of university in Rome, Italy after one of his professors brought up to him about a scholarship program there for his course. At the time where he needed a change of scenery, he sent his application form and got interviewed.

Acing it, he had the opportunity to fly across the world to study and travel. His English skills surely improved, even picking up Italian words along the way due to a required class for it. He studied the history of different locations and how they were built.

He also went on field trips almost every day if it weren’t for the Italian students assigned to tour him around, academic and non-academic. Nights he spent on drinking wine on the rooftop of his dorm with them, screaming his complaints in the world with them.

It didn’t hit him that his stay was reaching its end until he submitted his final plate. His goodbye party didn’t even feel like one, but a see you later in the next few years after he becomes a licensed architect with money. His goal of it felt more realistic, motivating him to excel in his remaining years in university.

After unpacking half of his things, he was reminded of an email from one of the head professors, who requested another copy of his confidential documents from the Italian university he went to as soon as he’s back on campus.

He raced to the department with a folder of them and luckily encountered the said professor. Handing it to him, this professor questioned how he was and what experiences he gained from the trip. With excitement, Jeno spoke all sorts of tales from his adventures, highlighting how determined he was now to be an architect.

“That’s great to hear, Jeno!” He celebrated, checking on his watch, and widened his eyes. Frantic at his colliding schedules, he asked Jeno for a favor. It turned out that at the same time as his emergency meeting, he’s supposed to tour the new transferee student around campus.

“Only if you have time, Jeno! I could always ask another student, plus you just came back and need rest.”

“It’s not like I left for a decade, sir. No worries, I’ll do it.”

“Oh, bless your soul.” He put his hands together in prayer position, bowing back and forth with gratitude. “Wait, she’s right outside! Go ahead and introduce yourself.”

Jeno nodded, exiting right through the department doors. This girl had her back turned, inspecting her surroundings. She wore a black and white tweed blazer that matched with her skirt, black high heeled boots, and a black handbag. She must be a foreigner, Jeno thought.

“Excuse me, are you the transferee in the department of Architecture?”

Jeno didn’t brace himself for the surprise he’d face once this girl reacted to him calling her out. Her face was one he could never forget, no matter how many times he told himself to. The same face he convinced his heart to stop beating for, yet it lied.

This radiant face was none other than yours.

Jeno almost dropped his phone. He tried his best to hold on to your promise, but he failed. It was the main reason he studied abroad; to forget and focus on his career path. So the least thing he could’ve done was to study hard for his dream career.

Just a glimpse of you projected back every single memory you’ve had together. Beautiful yet heart-wrenching, he kept his emotions to himself.

You even wore the rose necklace he got you. Could it be?

“It’s been a while, Lee Jeno.” You took the metaphorical scissors to cut the tension, trying to contain the crushing feelings. The faculty center was a public place, yet it’s like the two of you were on the main stage.

“Do you remember me?” Astounded, you nodded. Every single detail.

Jeno could’ve ran away, but didn’t. He could’ve left you hanging, but didn’t. He can no longer count how many times you’ve appeared in his dreams, only to be disappointed when morning comes to not have you in his arms. He took one step closer, taking his time.

“How do you know me?”

“You’re the boy whom I helped with his assignment, argued with me over Romeo and Juliet,” You mimicked his move, making you one step nearer to him. “And most of all, the boy I once gave my entire heart to.”

Another step, leaving a few inches between the two of you. His heart palpitated without caffeine. What if he was napping in his dorm again? It was all surreal. “Is it really you, (Y/N)?”

Hearing your name from his lips lowered your guard, you pleased him with a hopeful grin. “I’d be dust by now if I didn’t drink Circe’s potion, right?”

That’s where Jeno unchained himself from his emotions. He engulfed in a warm hug, one that has no plans to let go when his chin planted on your shoulder. You returned the gesture, dropping all your worries away along with your bag and papers as your arms snaked through his neck.

You knew you had to part ways for a while after everything, though you were unsure how he’d feel about it. You recalled every time he visited you after his job ended up until his intense chat with Sanghoon, where he bawled his heart out. You couldn’t take it anymore after trying to stay strong, crying as soon as you woke up that night.

All your fellow figures could do was soothe you down like before to the best of their abilities, yet this time, it was unsuccessful. You’re filled with misery, realizing later how much of a big mistake you’ve made.

You’ve isolated yourself again for a while, but less rudeness and more silence. It was until Circe visited you. She doesn’t like getting involved with drama, though now was different. She, alongside Hera and Aphrodite, couldn’t withstand you tolerating the heartbreak again. So they went behind Athena’s back on this one time and created a potion together just for you. But with a compromise.

“This potion can turn you into a human. However, there’s only a 10% chance you’ll regain all your memories from this place.”

“So I’ll forget everyone and him?”

“Yes, unfortunately.” You’re about to shoo her away, not in the mood to do something drastic as that. But Circe grabbed your arm again. “I strongly believe that if you and he meant to be, then there will come a time these past memories will suddenly surge at you.”

“Must I need to forget to live properly?”

You’re stubborn, and Circe expected it. “You’ve broken so many golden rules, (Y/N), so it must be done. I’ve gone against Athena for this potion, and rarely have I done that. So rather than wallowing up in misery, you should focus on yourself. Do what makes you happy because this place is trapping you from every great thing out there.”

Those were the word that the actual (Y/N) (Y/L/N) lived by, nevertheless, you’re unique from her. You built a separate identity from her. “But Jeno-”

“At the right time, (Y/N). Pull yourself together and do all the things you’ve dreamt of before he came into the picture. I just know he loves you that much, and that he will wait for you.”

That same night, you gathered all your senses and drank it. The transition was fast as lightning speed, and behold, you were like a new person. You’re back in London, with a family that closely resembled your former one; only 3 older siblings, making you the youngest. You also had a new set of memories, from childhood until your adult years.

From (Y/N) (Y/L/N), you became (Y/N) Edwards.

It took one drunken night out with your university friends for the unlikely surge of old memories to speedily hit through your intoxicated state. Way beyond a dream, you’ve dropped your shot glass and broke down in the bathroom of your dorm room. You left something unaccomplished, and you had to do something before it’s too late.

Thus, you rushed to Seoul thanks to your parents’ support as they agreed that exploring outside your home country was a great experience. The only excuse you gave to your friends for the sudden transfer was you finding a new calling.

Sure, studying abroad was an exciting thing but you’re more determined to reunite with him. Even if this encounter was unforeseen, it was bound to happen one day. It so turned out that you had the same major in your former university and this new one.

Head to toe, you remembered everything.

“I’m so sorry I took so long.” You cradled your head on his chest, unaware of how your new life left Jeno so troubled.

“That doesn’t matter anymore.” Jeno tightened his grip, scared of releasing you again. Those two years felt like a breath of fresh air and a punch in the gut. “I tried to live up to your last wish, but I really can’t.”

“I want to take that wish back, Jeno. I wasn’t thinking right and only ended putting you through so much.”

“Oh, angel. I slowly understood why you did it.” Before he got too fragile, he softened his grip on you and showed his face again to you. He wanted a better look at his pretty girl, his fingers brushing strands of your hair behind your ear. Heart-fluttering, you bit your bottom lip. “What would you want to wish for instead?”

“Instead of you letting me go, I wish you could take me back and love me again. I can’t undo the past, but I’d still like to think I’ve tried my best.” That was the only wish you could ever think of. As huge as it was, it was something he may not accept. Yet you gave it a go, risking it all. “I don’t deserve you at all, Jeno.”

“Don’t say that, (Y/N).” One of his hands grabbed yours, putting it on his cheek. Cupping it, “I’ve never stopped loving you, you know.”

Oh, love. An all-too familiar emotion that either makes or breaks you. Of all the times you could’ve said those words, you held back, especially that wretched night you two broke it off. Although you showed it, being able to say it to someone felt more empowering.

This was finally the chance you’ve unconsciously waited for.

“I’m stupid for not saying this sooner.”

“What is it?”

With intimate eye contact, you drowned in the comfort of his brown orbs. You trusted him then, and you trusted him now. “I love you, Lee Jeno.”

Secretly, Jeno anticipated for the day you’d say those meaningful 3 words. Just like you, he showed more affection through actions than words. He only admitted when he lost you, and never would he do the same mistake again. If he felt that the love was strongly present, he will say it aloud.

“I love you still, (Y/N).” His arm around your waist tugged you in further. “I loved you as (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and I will continue to love you as (Y/N) Edwards.”

He peeked on your ID earlier, but regardless, he stood by his truth. You’re still the same (Y/N).

Finally, he closed the limited space between your lips. The memories of your past romance replayed in sync of every touching kiss, popping one leg up like in the movies. The Princess Diaries, specifically. Like in the museum from your unbearable parting, one warm tear freed itself down your cheek.

The sweetness of being reunited with you again beat the torturous wait of Jeno. Time really made your hearts grow fonder. As everyone said, if the love between two people is real, then it’ll find its way back to each other.

The world must be on your side too because no professor called you two out on your public display of affection. Jeno pecked your lips one time before stepping away, picking up the things you dropped.

“Now come on, I have to tour you around as instructed.”

You stomped on your feet, rolling your eyes from being left hanging. He’s still the same tease from before. “After that kiss though, I would’ve thought we could reschedule it.”

“No can do, Edwards.” Passing over your things, he wrapped one arm around you as he escorted you out of the building. The university was huge, with more buildings and green fields surrounded everywhere. “Left or right? There are a lot of places you missed out on all those years.”

“Point taken. Then you lead the way, my love.”

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personasintro · 4 years

Text

blue side | jhs drabble

⏤𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴; you see your ex at your friend's wedding, awakening some feelings at the simple sight of him

⏤𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨; hoseok x reader

⏤𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: fluff, little bit of angst, exes to lovers au

⏤𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 4.3k

⏤𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: strong language, mentions of sex

𝘢/𝘯: requested, I came to the conclusion that I can't write short drabbles they always get longer than I want them to be

It’s unfair how effortlessly beautiful and charismatic he looks.

Two years is a long time since you’ve personally seen him, even though you got a brief glimpse into his life through stalking his social media. In your defense, it’s only occasional whenever you feel weak and curious about his life. Fair to say, it’s not something you’re proud of.

Fortunately, your ex-boyfriend keeps his Instagram account public, which makes it easier for you to look through his profile every now and then. He keeps most of his life private, even though his account is public, but he still shares a fair amount of pictures which describes his personality. Most of them are pictures of food, him in the distance where you can barely make out his face and a few snaps of the sky. Personally, the picture of his hand holding a cup of coffee with his name written on it, is your favorite. The silver watch and veins disappearing underneath, what seems like an elegant shirt, has something to do with it.

From what you remember, he doesn’t post often, sometimes goes even three months without posting anything. It sounds creepy, but you’re sure most exes do shit like this.

And you haven’t stalked his Instagram, or any social media, ever since you found out he’s going to your friend’s wedding. It’s understandable. It’s your mutual friend who invited you both, little did you know Hoseok would bring his ass from Japan back to South Korea. You’re just being bitter, of course he’d come to Namjoon’s wedding. But considering Japan and the work offer that broke your relationship was so important to him, the thought of him actually coming here never crossed your mind.

It kind of hurts that he came to Namjoon’s wedding, left his precious Japan, but couldn’t do the same thing for your relationship. No matter how many times you’ve told yourself not to think about it, you just couldn’t but feel anger boiling inside of you. Or maybe it’s the sight of him, noticing how freaking good he looks in suits. His hair seems to be darker than the light brown he was sporting when he broke your heart. He’s glowing, his eyes crinkling exactly the way you remember, showing a full set of teeth as he quickly covers his mouth before his loud voice erupts in the ballroom. His face seems to be chubbier, not in a bad way though. He looks healthy, another thing that irritates you, even though your brain screams at you.

It’s been two years.

Of course he moved on and lives his life.

What have you expected? Him looking miserable?

Yet, you don’t feel any hatred towards him. Yes, he’s someone who’s painful to watch, especially when it brings all the months of trying to put yourself together right back. However, you haven’t been living badly. It’s not like your whole world revolved around him, even though he was the only man you truly ever loved. Deep down, you know he’s not a bad person. It’s just the pain of knowing he chose a carrier life instead of you. That’s what hurts to this day.

And when somehow, your group of friends pushes you to the circle of his, there’s no escape other than to be met with him face to face. During the actual ceremony, you sat far away to even notice him, even though you tried extremely hard to stare at the bride and groom. But now, when your eyes glance at his own, you find him already staring at you. A very cautious greeting leaves his mouth first, as the true gentlemen he always presented himself as, and a very dry greeting comes out of you before you can even try to fake a certain kind of politeness.

Before the atmosphere could become any more awkward, one of your friends starts to chat, gaining everyone else’s attention. They all catch up, as you silently pray for them not to ask you a question about your life. The last thing you want to do is to share it with Hoseok. It’s not like you’re ashamed of your life, or care too much about what he thinks and if he knows about it, but it feels uncomfortable.

Silently sipping on the pink champagne is a better idea, while you politely listen to anyone that’s talking, giggling when it’s needed but your mind drifts elsewhere. With each sound Hoseok’s mouth makes, is like a wave of nostalgia and nausea hitting you at the same time. He affects you and your heart, despite of those two years of not having him in your life, like it never happened.

“How’s work, Hoseok-ah? I’ve heard you got promoted. Congrats man!” Taehyung, one of Hoseok’s friends, speaks up sipping from his own champagne as he gently slaps his shoulder in a praise.

Hoseok’s lips stretch into a wide smile, looking down into his almost full glass, something you recognize as a hidden shyness. He has always felt shy as soon as someone complimented him for his hard work. Despite of his reaction, he has felt a huge appreciation to whoever gave him a few words of praise or encouragement. He’s just too hard on himself, well, he used to be. It’s not like you know him. A lot can change in two years. Even peoole can.

“Thanks,” he scrunches his nose, before he grins at Taehyung. “I got promoted just last week.”

He gets a round of happy gasps, another set of praise words which you just ignore by gulping all of your champagne. Maybe you should be less obvious, but you don’t really care. You can’t look at him, not when the topic of discussion reminds you of everything the two of you experienced together. You’re not a bitch. You don’t wish him to be sad and fail all of his dreams and achievements he has set for himself. But you’re also a living person, a human who’s not perfect with real emotions, and you do feel a sour emotion in your chest when you hear them talking.

For all you know, he might be over the moon that he got rid of you. In a way, you were just an obstacle that stood right between his dreams. You just thought three years of dating would’ve been more valuable to him. Maybe that’s what hurts the most.

“Wow,” you speak up, not even regretting it as you feel all the eyes on you, including his. “Congrats, Japan must be treating you right.”

It’s the damn champagne, the third glass you had and should’ve declined when that goddamn waiter offered it, that’s making you so blunt and outspoken. By the way Hoseok eyes you, he probably knows that by now. He’s watching you, and this time you don’t budge your eyes from his, stubbornly staring right back at him.

“What city was it?” The city you left me for. “Noho?” you ask with a fake interest, tilting your head to express it even more.

If not all of them, most of your and his friends, aren’t stupid and caught onto your tone and jabbing at your ex-boyfriend. The fact it’s in front of them all causes Hoseok’s smile to freeze as he clenches his jaw, still staring at you.

“Naha,” he drawls out, “It’s Naha.” he corrects you, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Same thing,” you mutter, waving him off in disinterest but you still catch onto the way Taehyung’s eyes widen.

You notice him whispering something to the man next to him, before all of them just excuse themselves and walk away from the two of you. Your own friends betrayed you like that, not even glancing at you as you stare in disbelief at their backs.

“Why would they leave?” you mutter, trying to hide your shock and panic that rises inside of you.

What you don’t expect is, to Hoseok actually hear you and have the actual interest to answer.

“I think we all know why.”

Your head snaps his direction, eyebrows furrowed as he stares with the same intensity back. It brings you back to all your little arguments during the period when the two of you were dating — both of you are stubborn. The arguments were never too drastic or serious, you and Hoseok were just too stubborn to apologize or talk about it first.

Hoseok was acting like nothing happened, but he’d always snap back if you managed to get out a sarcastic remark. It would go back and forth, until he’d come to you just to cuddle you and whisper a soft apology in your ears. You did the same thing, making sure he knows you hate when the two of you fight about pointless stuff. Your relationship was far more important than Hoseok forgetting to buy groceries or not picking up his dirty clothes off the floor.

He’d kiss you all over your face, covering every inch of your skin with his soft lips to prove his apology, until he’d make love to you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear for the whole time. You knew how serious and sorry he is about the whole situation, especially when he buckled his length into you with gentle and swift movements, making sure you feel every inch of him as he slowly rubs your walls. Even thinking about it makes your cheeks flush, it’s like you can’t still feel his pillow like lips on your own, yet it seems distant and foreign.

Looking back at him, his tense expression relaxes as if he just changed his mind to say something else, and asks a simple question instead. So simple, that it leaves you breathless.

“How have you been?”

You want to be angry at him so bad, but when you’re met with those brown eyes that look nothing but friendly and warm, you can’t bring yourself to be mad or annoyed. Still, you hold your head high with a sour tone behind your words.

“Great,” you inform him, too intensely for your opinion, but it doesn’t matter. “I’ve been great.”

Maybe the huge effort of trying him to believe you is what makes your stomach clench in a discomfort, or maybe it’s the way he looks at you. Like he sees right through your little white lie, but then you’re remembered. This is Hoseok, Jung Hoseok, who knows you like the back of his hand. Or used to know you. You haven’t changed much, you’re still the same person, just with a broken heart.

“That’s good,” he drawls out, and you mentally curse at yourself for trying to sound too happy. He clearly doesn’t believe you. “Are you still with that guy?”

And just like that, Hoseok leaves you breathless and knocking all the air out of your lungs again.

It took you some time to dive into the dating life again. It’s not something you were looking for, it’d be stupid while another guy was constantly on your mind. It’d be unfair to your potential future boyfriend, or just a guy you went on a casual date with. So you waited, it took you a year before you were introduced to a guy by one of your closest friends.

Tim is her colleague, a very charming and polite man, that you were dating for four months. Four months full of amazing dates until you broke it off. As much as those dates where adventurous and amazing, enough for your mind to shut Hoseok out off it, it felt like your relationship wasn’t going anywhere. Yes, maybe four months were a short period of time to do such a drastic decision, but you just weren’t feeling it. It was better to break it off with him before he caught serious feelings, not that you don’t think he wasn’t serious about you. He was, he just deserves a better woman who’s going to love him much more than you ever did.

But you kept your relationship private on social media, not that you were trying to hide him. Not at all. You didn’t post any pictures with him on your Instagram account, it wasn’t nothing intentional. You just never took that many of them.

And still, Hoseok knows about Tim, or at least that you were dating someone. And he calls him ‘that guy’.

“How do you even know that?” you ask, brows furrowed in confusion as you stare at him.

He’s the least person to talk about something. The beautiful brunette on one of his photos is the exact proof of it.

“Just because I lived in Japan, it doesn’t mean I’m completely clueless. We’ve got a mutual friends, Y/N.”

By the usage of your name, your breath hitches in your throat as you stare at him with doe eyes before an annoyed expression crosses your features.

“Mutual friends,” you scoff, “You mean Namjoon.”

It’s evident Namjoon is the one who spilled beans about your only relationship after you and Hoseok broke up. And for a moment, Hoseok’s eyes widen by the realization that you figured it out, even though it wasn’t anything hard to realize.

“We’ve got more mutual friends.” he reminds you dryly, trying to save the situation but you only chuckle in response.

“Namjoon is the only one who keeps talking with the both of us on a daily basis,” you remind him back, causing him to just sigh in defeat knowing there’s no point denying it. “And no. I’m not with that guy. And his name is Tim.”

He visibly widens his eyes at that, before he nods. “Good,” His eyes widens one more time, coughing before he speaks again. “I mean--not good, I thought--“

You raise your brow, trying not to snort at his blubbering and nervous state. You don’t ask him about his love life, the possible answer might not be what you were looking for.

“I get it, you don’t have to, y’know, be a stuttering mess.” you point out, the tip of his ears reddening as he nods awkwardly in response.

There’s a silence for a moment, your hands sprawled against the silk silver material of your dress on your thighs. You look away from him, not having the heart to look at him for any longer, and as you open your mouth to excuse yourself, he opens his own.

“Can we talk?”

You hide the shock, shoulders tensing as you look up at him. “We’re talking.” you tell him slowly, noticing the different glint in his eyes.

Oh, shit. He wants to talk. Not just a casual awkward talk between exes.

“You know what I mean,” he says, the slightest cringe making its appearance on his face, almost as if he's hurting. “I miss you.” he confesses, completely surprising you as he looks alarmed.

“You what?” you ask slowly, not believing you just heard him saying that he misses you.

“I miss you.”

He doesn’t miss a chance to say it again, this time with more confidence and if there was one of the waiters passing by, he’d ask for the whole bottle of wine to chug it down. He’s been embracing himself to talk to you ever since he decided to go to Namjoon’s wedding, knowing you’re invited and going.

“Why are you telling me this?” you breathe out, unsure of what to say.

But your heart says it all when it beats faster, appreciating how those three words sounded from his mouth with that silky and raspy voice. Is he drunk? Why is he telling you such a thing after two years of not communicating with you? On the other hand, he looks completely sober and serious as you see the determination behind his eyes that used to shine with gentleness and joy.

“Because it’s true.” he murmurs, his eyes solely set upon you.

“No, I mean-- why are you telling me this after two years?”

“Because I’m an idiot and it took me two years to realize that my life isn’t what I wanted it to be, if you’re not in it.”

You finally understand the term when someone says ‘it hit me like a bucket of cold water’ — that’s how you feel right now.

“What are you saying? You just can’t come here after such a long time and tell me all those stuff! What do you expect me to do? Welcome you with open arms?”

If he’s embarrassed by the sudden raise of your voice that would catch other’s attention sooner or later, he doesn’t show it and looks at you like a kicked puppy on the street instead. He expected your reaction be like this, he knows you and it doesn’t matter how much time has passed. You haven’t changed and if he could, he’d be the one embracing you with open arms even through your sudden outburst.

“No, I wasn’t expecting any of that,” he tells you, outstretching his hands in peace, or to calm you down, you’re not sure which one it is. “I came here because of you.”

At that, you snort and scoff right after as you stare at him with a raised brow. “Oh please, this is Namjoon’s wedding. Of course, you’d come if the time and your job would allow you to.”

“I wasn’t about to come. Yes, Namjoon invited me and I told him that I won’t probably make it. I don’t know what came over me but I asked him if you’re coming,”

“You asked him if I was coming?” you chuckle, Hoseok’s face cringing by the bitterness behind your tone.

“I was asking him about you all the time.” he admits quietly, eyes scanning your face as you let his words to sink in.

You know Hoseok barely lies, his ears get all red and you can see the frustration on his face right away if he does. But there’s none of it, straight honesty thick in his voice and determination mixed with sadness on his handsome glowy face.

“Why?”

It’s a simple question, yet you see how his Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps before he opens his mouth.

“Because I couldn’t stand the fact that I don’t get to see you or hear your voice. I messed up. I fucked up so bad by leaving to Japan, by leaving you. I thought I was doing the best thing for me but I was wrong. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and I can’t believe I was fucking stupid enough to let you go.”

All the emotions that were buried inside of you makes your hands tremble as you try to clutch them in your hold. The tears are brimming in your eyes but you blink them away, staring at Hoseok who looks just as painful.

“Stop, you can’t say things like--“

“Why can’t I? I know this may not be a good time or place, but I had to get it off my chest. Seeing you right now--I just couldn’t wait.” he cuts you off, but still offers a weak smile in apology when he sees your deep frown.

You’ve always hated whenever he interrupted you, it makes your heart jump over the fact he remembers.

“What do you want me to do? You’ve hurt me, Hobi.” you murmur, happy your voice didn’t crack.

He stutters over his words, eyes widening before he looks down in a shame. “I’m sorry.”

You can’t blame him for choosing his career life, you’ve always known how important it is for him to prove himself to his parents. And you’ve always wanted what’s best for him. Although, it doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt when he told you he’s got a new job opportunity in Japan. He expected you to move there with him, but you couldn’t. And when you’ve told him that, he ended things with you. It was mutual, and the most hurtful thing you’ve ever experienced.

The memories of you crying yourself to sleep, pillow damped with your tears are so fresh, that it almost hurts just thinking about it.

“I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. If you want me to leave, I will. If you don’t want to see me ever again, you won’t have to.”

Something about how he talks about you not having to see him ever again makes your heart crack. “I don’t hate you, Hobi.” you tell him quietly, watching a hope crossing over his features.

“You don’t?”

“Of course not,” you try to muster a smile, “I could never hate you, no matter how hurt I was. I’m just not sure what I’m supposed to do. This is so all of a sudden. Aren’t you living in Japan?”

“Not anymore,” he answers, smiling when he sees your confusion. “I’ve quit.” he shrugs, causing your eyes to almost buldge out.

“Quit? But you just told Taehyung that you got promoted.”

“I did, but I declined the offer. I just didn’t know what to say, I didn’t think he’d bring it right in front of you,” he explains, causing you to chuckle when he scratches the back of his head in a mere embarrassment. “I’m moving back to Korea and I’ve got a few job offers already.”

You nod, confused how joyful your heart feels at the new information.

“What’s your plan then?” you cough.

“To win my girl back,” He doesn’t waste a minute, answering your question right away while you almost choke yourself on your spit. “I mean... if you let me to.”

“I-I don’t know what to say,” you stutter, shaking tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You caught me off guard.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I understand we can’t go back to what we used to have, nor I expect that from you. I just want you to know that I’m sorry.” he smiles sadly at you, tucking his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

“I’m not angry at you,” you tell him, causing him to smile and nod. “I’ve missed you too.” you admit, noticing how big his eyes look.

“You have?”

With a slow nod, you’re shocked when your body is enveloped in a strong arms, your face pressed into his suit as the scent of his fragrance hits your nose. You recognize it immediately, it’s the one you complimented him so many times, causing him to use it all the time. His arms are strong, yet gentle around your frame as you smile into his chest when you feel a soft peck into your hair. He apologizes under his breath, whether it was for the innocent kiss into your hair or just in general, you just shake your head and hug him back. It feels nice to feel him again, not be in his arms.

And even though, you’ve no intention of going back to dating him right away, you know what your heart pleads for. It’s him. It’s always been him, and being so close to him right now just proves it. It proves that even after those two years, you still love him.

He softly pulls away, hand itching to caress your cheek but he stops himself in midway which makes you blush.

“Are you free tomorrow?” he asks, tone cautious and insecure about your possible answer.

It makes you smile, wanting to squeeze his cheeks and kiss those pouty lips. When he sighs, ready to apologize and tell you to forget about it, it feels like you know exactly what’s on his mind. So you interrupt him before he can utter a single word.

“Yeah, I am.” you answer, grinning at him which causes him to open his mouth in shock.

“Y-you are? Yeah, okay. Is coffee okay?”

He clearly thought your answer would be the opposite, and it makes you giggle at his distressed face.

One thing he probably doesn’t know, is that no matter what he’d propose would be the perfect idea for you.

“Coffee’s perfect.” you answer, causing him to visibly sigh in relief as he touches his chest, exactly where his heart is.

Giggling, you lick your lips as he smiles down at you with adoring lips.

“Can I have the dance?” he stretches out his arm for you, causing you to groan which he laughs at.

He knows you hate dancing, especially when he’s so good at it. It makes you look like a total fool. But still, you don’t miss the opportunity to be close to him again, as soft classic music fills the whole room. You place your hand into his and nod in response, causing him to hesitate before he kisses the back of it, your heart screaming at you as you smile at him.

He leads you to the dance floor, one hand placed in yours while the other one holds your waist in a soft and gentleman manner. As you both start to dance, letting your bodies move into a slow and sensual music, both of you don’t look away. You stare at each other, with Hoseok licking his lips and you biting your bottom lip, wanting nothing more than to taste them. But as the gentlemen that Hoseok is, he doesn’t make a move even when you press yourself closer to him.

And when he chuckles at your attempt to get closer to him, he holds you even tighter as he stares lovingly down at you.

It takes you a few minute of dancing, before both of your mouths are pressed together, kissing like there’s no tomorrow.

In the distance you hear all of your and Hoseok’s friends cheering for the two of you, both of you are too busy making up for those two years. However, you still have a long way to go, and you’re getting that coffee tomorrow.

But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#networkbangtan #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #hoseok x reader #jhope x reader #bts au #bts fanfic #hoseok scenario #hoseok drabble #jung hoseok au #personasintro

764 notes · View notes

mediocre--writing · 3 years

Note

If you would like a harringrove prompt - maybe billy having a hard time on Mother’s Day? He’s probably try and cover it up but truthfully seeing all the cards in the store and dinner discounts etc in the lead up would make him feel sad :(

I’m sure steve would either try to cheer him up or listen to billy and tell him it’s ok he feels like that c:

awww i love this

i fully hc that neil forced susan on billy. made him call her mom when they’d first gotten married, but billy couldn’t.

he felt like it would be betraying his mom. his real mom.

and he can’t hate susan. he really can’t. she didn’t know that his father was an evil child abuser when she married him, but she also didn’t do anything to stop it. ever.

she tried harder to ignore and escape the room then she tried to help billy.

and susan is a good mother. she’s got the backbone of a chocolate eclair, but she cares about max. she even cares about billy to a certain extent.

on his birthday, one of the few days a year his dad decided to give a shit about him and spend (a still small) amount of money on him, susan would make his favorite dinner and bake him a cake.

she’d show some concern if he looked to sad. she had those caring mother eyes but had no real actions to back them up.

billy hated mother’s day with a burning passion. he didn’t want to celebrate it with susan. he wanted to celebrate with his momma.

it’s been close to a year since billy and steve have been dating and they’ve yet to experience a mother’s day together. not that it’s a very important holiday for couples.

but steve’s parents were down for the weekend, and steve was able to spend mother’s day with his own mom.

billy, however, was stuck in his house watching his dad love up on susan while max gave her flowers (that billy paid for).

billy hated mother’s day.

later in the day, when he was able to get out of his house, he headed towards a diner close to the edge of town.

he sat down at one of the stools and waited for someone to come take his order. he looked around the restaurant, at the nice blues and whites and pinks littered around.

the sandwich board by the door caught his eye, it had nice, fancy lettering advertising a discount on your meal if you came with your mom.

billy wanted to leave right then, but a kind lady came up and got his order right then, so he felt it would be rude to leave now.

that was something that reminded him of his mom. how kind she was and how she always sternly, but lovingly, instilled good morals into billy’s head.

she would’ve been so disappointed in him a year ago, but he thinks if she saw him now, she would be somewhat proud of who he is. he was living life by his rules, not someone else’s.

as he drove back home after sitting in the diner for an hour and a half, re-reading part of a jane austen novel (pride and prejudice: it was his moms favorite).

he drove around backstreets for another hour listening to two of her old cassettes. they weren’t really hers, just the same albums, but they brought nostalgia anyway.

he drove past steve’s house, purely out of habit, before going home. he noticed that the nice, shiny, expensive car that belonged to steve’s dad wasn’t there anymore. just steve’s beemer.

he pulled into the driveway.

steve opened the door before billy turned his car off.

“how did i know you were coming?” steve smiled warmly as billy came to the front door.

“lover’s intuition,” billy teased as they shared a quick peck after shutting the door.

“somethings wrong with you today,” steve said after looking at billy for a moment.

billy’s face contorted into one of disgust and shock, “how—“

“you aren’t really smiling. you’re doing that thing you used to do, when you over smile to make people think you’re happy,”

billy loved steve, he really did, but damn the boy was intuitive.

“it’s mother’s day,”

“yeah, i know. why do you think my parents left at 7pm rather than noon?”

“yeah but, i don’t know,” billy rubbed a hand over his face as he fell into the couch, “i just, i don’t know i miss—“

billy takes a pause as he tries to force the tears back into his eyes with sheer willpower.

“i miss my mom. well, i miss my mom all the time, but mother’s day we would always hang out together. we go to the beach and this diner she loved. my dad always had to work sundays, so it would just be us. he would always bring her a bouquet, though. always yellow tulips. they were her favorite,”

before steve could say anything else, billy was crashing down into his chest, almost knocking steve off his feet.

they moved to sit on the couch, steve against the arm rest with his legs on the cushions, billy laying with his head on steve’s chest and body between his legs.

billy was crying. it was quiet, but billy cried often enough that steve knew what to look for. he wouldn’t look up from steve’s chest and his body was extra still as if that wouldn’t draw attention.

steve let him wallow. rubbed his back and ordered delivery from their favorite place. made sure to be comforting but not to the point of pity, billy hated that.

and every mother’s day after, from now until forever, billy couldn’t go the whole day without crying, but it got less and less extreme so long as steve was there to show him affection and hold him though it.

#stranger things #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #steve x billy #mw harringrove #mediocre—writing

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dcnatural · 4 years

Text

The Dominoed Daredoll

Word Count: 3656

Pairing: Arkham Knight!Jason x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Synopsis: You, the hero Flamebird, thought you would never find love again after your first love, Jason Todd died. In a attempt to rescue Oracle, you run into the mysterious Arkham Knight.

I should’ve waited for Bruce. That was the last coherent thought that crossed your mind before everything went black.

You woke up what could have been minutes or hours later, hands cuffed together behind your back and your ankles tied up preventing you from running. Your head still pounded where you had been hit and you could feel the dried blood that clung to your scalp.

It all had happened so fast: in one moment you were jumping from building to building following the trail that the Arkham Knight had left behind and in the next he had been upon you. You could only hope that, since you were still alive, maybe there was a chance Barbara also was. She had been your mentor from the moment you entered the world of crime fighting and you couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. You still hadn’t healed from the death of your best friend years ago, you couldn’t lose her too.

And so, you had sprung into action the moment you heard Oracle had been kidnapped, ignoring Bruce’s orders to stay away from the militia. You wouldn’t let anyone take anything from you again; as long as you were breathing, you would protect the ones you loved. But it seemed you wouldn’t be breathing for much longer, unless you could find a way to escape.

The room you were in was completely dark and you couldn’t see anything. The floor and wall behind you were made of cold metal and you assumed they had taken you to an abandoned warehouse. The only sound was that of your own erratic breathing; they had left you alone.

Except you weren’t. You heard the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking and felt the muzzle pressing up to your forehead. Whoever it was, had approached you in complete silence. Not only that, but they had been able to see you, even without any lights. It must be the Knight himself, you guessed.

“Look who finally woke up,” his modulated voice announced, sending chills down your spine. He loomed over you and even though you couldn’t see him, there was something familiar about his presence. Like the two of you had met before.

“I swear I’ll beat the fuck out of you when I get out,” you hissed in return. Even being at an extreme disadvantage wouldn’t stop you from getting mouthy.

He laughed dryly. “You surely talk a big game for someone who can’t even defend herself.” And as to prove his point, he slammed the sole of his boot against your ribs, causing you to growl in pain. He kicked you again, stronger this time and you felt the air leaving your lungs. You bit your tongue to avoid screaming, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

“Fuck you,” you managed to curse as you coughed, blood spurting out of your mouth. “You’ll see. I’ll get Oracle and we’ll defeat you.”

“Keep dreaming, daredoll.”

You flinched, the nickname hitting you harder than any punch could ever have. A wave of nostalgia rolled in as the memories flashed in your mind.

You and Robin, fighting side by side against Two-Face and his thugs. You and Jason, getting ice cream downtown. You and your best friend, taking out drug dealers. You and your first love, swaying in the gym during a school dance. You alone at his funeral, watching as the empty coffin was lowered into the earth. And echoing through the memories, his voice calling you his daredoll.

“My dominoed daredoll. The Batgirl for my Robin,” you remember him saying on the first night you donned your cowl, draping his arm around your shoulders and tugging you closer to him as you both watched Dick and Barbara, now in their new mantles of Nightwing and Oracle, kissing in the Batcave. You had blushed, wishing he would kiss you like that.

“Don’t call me that,” you said through gritted teeth. You focused on your breathing, refusing to let yourself cry in front of him.

He snickered. “I think it suits you, don’t you agree?”

You ignored him and tussled against the restraints, desperate to escape. If you could only free your hands, you knew you could disarm him.

“I asked you a question, daredoll .”

You felt a silent tear running down your cheek. There was something about the intonation he said that stupid nickname that was so like Jason. Annoyed by your lack of response, he pressed his feet to your injured ribs, threatening another blow. Finally, you gave in and slowly you shook your head, the gun's barrel sliding down your cheek until the muzzle was caressing your mouth.

“I hate it. It reminds me of someone I once knew.” Another tear fell down your face and your captor crouched in front of you, using his free hand to wipe them away. His touch was cold and harsh, a mockery of what should have been an endearing gesture. This close to him, you could hear his heartbeat and the faint buzzing of the circuits of his suit.

“Why so sad? I thought bats didn’t cry,” he taunted.

You shook your head again, feeling the cold metal sliding across your lips. “You know nothing about us. About what we have lost.”

He chuckled, amused by your answer. “I know more than you would think.” There was an edge of sadness in his tone, the first emotion he had shown since you woke up. Or perhaps you had only imagined it.

Either way, he couldn’t possibly know what it had felt like after losing Jason. You couldn’t even look at your Batgirl outfit without feeling guilty. Guilty that you were alive and he wasn’t. After Tim came along, it became too much. You didn’t blame him for taking Jason’s mantle, you saw it as a way to honour him, but you simply couldn’t be another Robin’s Batgirl, and so, you abandoned the purple and black suit to adopt a new one. Following the step of your older brother, you moved to Bludhaven and began to call yourself Flamebird. Not only the kryptonian bird was a perfect match for Dick’s Nightwing, but it also symbolized rebirth. Just like a phoenix, you had been reborn. It did nothing to quell the ache in your heart, but at least it was easier than to be constantly reminded of your deceased love.

A new idea seemed to cross his mind and, grabbing you by your chin, he pressed the pistol past your lips. Before you could react, it was already half buried in your throat and you choked on it, struggling to breathe around the large intrusion.

“Suck it,” he ordered and, not seeing another alternative, you did as you were told. His finger was on the trigger the whole time while you shoved your tongue inside the barrel, the taste of gunpowder and metal coating your tongue.

There was a fire building inside you, not of anger, but of excitement. It was dangerous and thrilling and you wondered how it would feel if, instead of his gun, he had placed his cock in your mouth. You quickly dismissed the thought, he was a criminal, for God’s sake. When he pulled it out, you couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed.

“Damn,” he exclaimed as he looked at you, drool dripping down your chin and cheeks flushed red. “I wonder if you’ll be as good when sucking my dick.”

His words affected your body in ways you refused to acknowledge, the mere threat of what he would do to you making you squirm. You knew your arousal was building up and really hoped he didn’t notice.

Even in the dark, you felt when he got up and walked away, causing your heartbeat to quicken. You feared what he was going to do, thinking that perhaps he would try to assault Barbara too. Please don’t harm her, you begged mentally. You would take whatever he threw at you, as long as it meant your friend was safe. She needed to survive, she had Dick waiting for her, she had someone to return to. You had no one. Perhaps if he kills me, I’ll see Jason again, death will reunite us for all of eternity, you thought hopefully, recalling the words engraved in his tombstone, a line from one of his favorite poems: “No more let life divide what death can join together.”

You were blinded by brightness when all of the lights lit up simultaneously, your eyes, already accustomed to the darkness, struggling to adjust to the change. The Knight came back and now you could see him properly. He wore an armor with the symbol of Arkham Asylum on the chest and his physique was in top shape, not even the metal protection being able to hide his muscles. On the holster, his pistol still glimmered with the wetness of your mouth. As you analized him, your eyes stopped a second too long on his thighs, your brain already starting to think about how it would feel to straddle one of them.

The light also allowed you to inspect your surroundings. Like predicted, it was indeed an old warehouse, a rectangular space empty except for the wooden boxes piled up under the mezzanine. You caught sight of your utility belt tossed on top of the boxes. If you could escape the binding on your feet, you could reach it and use one of the many tools it stored to open the cuffs and escape. The only problem would be doing all of that before you got shot.

“Much better this way,” he said, looking around at the lit up room. “You look much better without the night vision lens.”

He sat on your legs, pinning you down even harder. From a pocket, he pulled a sharp knife, which he ran across the skin of your neck, erupting goosebumps and leaving a faint red line across your skin, blood barely prickling through the cut.

“It would be so easy to kill you right now. No one would miss you. Hell, they likely haven’t even noticed you're gone.”

You knew he was just trying to get under your skin, but there was some truth to his words: with everything going on, your absence would take a while to be noticed. Especially since you had been doing exactly what Bruce had ordered you not to do. He probably thinks I’m patrolling Bludhaven like he asked.

The Knight then pressed the blade to your shirt, cutting past the yellow and red kevlar from your suit and exposing your breast to him. He tossed the pieces of fabric aside and cupped your boobs with his gloved hands. You ignored the sensation running through your body as he pinched and twisted your nipples, focusing solely on reaching one of the shredded bits. You took advantage of his assault to wiggle a little, making it seem you were only reacting to his ministrations. When you finally felt the cut material under your fingertips, you began to peel away the many protective layers in search of the metal wires, knowing that you could use those to unlock the handcuffs.

Unfortunately, he soon got bored of your chest and your red skirt became the next victim of his knife, followed closely by your leggings and panties. Your heartbeat quickened at the realization of what he was going to do and you began to work faster on freeing yourself. You closed your eyes in a pathetic hope that, if you couldn’t see it, then it couldn’t be really happening. However, you sprung them open again when you felt a cold object being pressed to your pussy lips. His gun.

“Please, don’t,” you croaked, eyes tearing up again. “I’ve... I’ve never…”

“Oh, don’t tell me you are a virgin. With such a pretty face, it’s hard to believe that.”

“It’s true. I'm in love with a dead guy,” you said in almost a whisper. After Jason died, you promised yourself to never be with anyone, and so, despite the many admirers who were constantly asking you out, you always declined, knowing they were nothing compared to your deceased beloved.

He seemed surprised at your confession, and he hesitated for a moment. But just as you took a breath of relief, his demeanour went back to what it was before. “Liar. Everybody knows you are a slut for your stupid boyfriend.”

You frowned. “I swear it’s the truth. I don’t even have a boyfriend.”

“Do you think I’m stupid, daredool?” You muttered a ‘no ’. “I’ve seen you and him together. Nightwing and Flamebird. Crime-fighters and lovers.”

You shook your head vehemently. “No, you got it all wrong. He’s my brother, I’m telling you. The boy I loved died years ago. So, please, I beg you, let me have this last symbol of loyalty to him. Don’t touch me where he never had the chance to.”

You wished he wasn’t wearing a helmet so you could have seen his expression as he pulled away the gun. You didn’t understand why he cared about this detail, but mentioning Jason seemed to have affected the Arkham Knight in one way or another. Perhaps this could buy you enough time to escape.

“Tell me more about this boy,” he demanded.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

You had to suppress a cheer as you finally pulled free a wire from the discarded armor. “Okay. His name was Jason. We were the same age,” you began, thinking carefully of what you could say without giving away your secret identity. “We were adopted by Batman at the same time. He trained to become Robin and I, Batgirl. Jason was smart, handsome, strong and passionate. I was in love with him for the whole time, but he only saw me as a friend. And then he died.”

“How did he die?”

By that point, you were crying freely. “The Joker… the Joker killed him.”

“If you loved him so much, why didn’t you avenge him?”

You didn’t know what to reply. The truth was that you had wanted to do just that, a life for a life. But Bruce always stopped you, saying you wouldn’t have been able to live with the guilt. “I couldn’t. Batman didn’t let me. But I should’ve. At least the Joker is dead now.”

You had opened up thinking that he would change his mind, but that hope was crushed as he spread your lips open and pressed the muzzle to your entrance. “If your Jason hadn’t died, would you have allowed him to do this to you?” he asked, a hint of playfulness in his voice, as if it was a private joke only he understood.

“Yes,” you told him, not missing a beat. “If he was alive, I’d let him do anything.”

“And if I offered you a deal... You cum for me once and I’ll return him to life. Would you take it?”

“Yes. But you can’t bring him back. He exploded, not even Ra’s Al Ghul with his Lazarus pit could bring Jason back.”

“Just remember that you consented to it,” he gave as a last warning before shoving the gun into you. It slid in easily, the path well lubricated by your arousal. Still, it hurt. The barrel was wide and it felt like it was splitting you apart. The metal was cold and it was a sharp contrast to your own warmth. You wanted to shout to the Knight that you hadn’t consented to anything but you couldn't find your voice.

And then he began to move in and out of you. The pain melted into pleasure and your hips rocked automatically to meet his rhythm. His thumb circled your clit in ways that made your whole body shake with passion. Moans left your throat against your will and you knew he was smiling behind his mask. His pace quickened and you felt your orgasm building up.

You climaxed with an explosive scream, its sound covering the noise of the metal handcuffs hitting the ground. You were unable to move, your limbs were heavy and your vision blurred. Besides, in that very moment, you had no wish to leave.

The Knight holstered his gun and brought his hands to his helmet, slowly removing it. At first, you thought you were imagining things. But there was no denying it was him. You would recognize those blue eyes anywhere.

“Jay,” you yelled in joy, jolting up to throw your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug, the context of your reencounter completely erased by the sight of him. Your hands roamed his face, assuring you he was real.

“That’s me, daredoll.” Without the modulator, his voice was exactly the same as it had been when you had last seen him and you were flooded by a mixture of emotions.

New tears began to fall from your eyes, this time out of happiness. They were mirrored by his own as he reassured you time and time again that it was really him. He placed soft kisses all over your face and whispered secrets only he could possibly know. When your mouths finally met, it was everything you had ever dreamed of and more. You were lost in pure bliss. When you finally broke away you had a giant smile plastered onto your face. It was like all your dreams had come true.

He looked older, of course, but other than that, it was the same face from before: from the disheveled dark hair to the crooked smile. Then your gaze fell to his left cheek, where a “J” shaped scar marked his otherwise perfect skin. Your eyes widened in shock, and his smile faltered, a dark shadow crossing his face.

Your hand raised upwards to touch the scar and he turned away. “What happened to you?”, you asked quietly. The euphoria of finding him alive had run out and the situation once more hung heavy above you. And by hugging him, you had thrown away the chance of catching him by surprise, as he now knew you had freed your hands. Stop, you told yourself, he’s not the enemy anymore. There must be an explanation to it all. He would never intentionally hurt any of us. We are family.

“The Joker happened,” he stated simply. “He didn’t kill me, no. He kept me prisoner at Arkham this whole time. And none of you came looking for me.” There was anger in his voice, but also disappointment.

“That’s not true. Bruce tried to-”

“I DON’T CARE!” he shouted and stood up, his helmet tucked under his arm. “He tortured me, daredoll. The Joker did things so awful I can’t even put it into words. And no one stopped him. No one. Not you, not Bruce. Bruce. Bruce fucking Wayne. You know this is all his fault right? If he had gone to a fucking terapist instead of dressing up like a bat our lives wouldn’t be this messed up. I’m just trying to fix what he ruined.”

He began to walk away, his heavy steps echoing in the metal walls. He did have a point. If it wasn’t for Batman, there would be no Joker. Besides, who in their right mind would train children to fight? You had once thought that being chosen to be Batgirl was the highest honour possible, but right now, you felt like you had been manipulated to take on a duty that wasn’t yours.

You untied your legs and followed after him, grabbing his arm just before he could open the door. “Where are you going?”

“Away. I need some air,” he ran his finger through his hair, “I need to think. I-”

You shut him up with a tender kiss. “Don’t leave me. Not again,” you pleaded.

“You were the one who left me.”

His words shattered your heart. It hurt that he thought of it in that away. He’s not wrong, though. I should’ve done something. I shouldn’t have sat back and listened to Bruce.

“So tell me how to make it right. Please, Jay. I just want you. I don’t care if you are trying to kill Batman or to destroy the city, I wanna be with you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Let me show you.” Your voice broke as you spoke, words being cut in half by your sobbing. You didn’t know when you had started crying again, but now you couldn’t stop. “Whatever you are doing, you can count on me.”

You could see the doubt in his eyes. “You would turn your back to the only family you ever had?”

“ You are my family. Besides, I told you. For you, I’d do anything.”

He pulled you into his arms, hugging you tightly, and placed a kiss on your forehead, like he used to do when you were kids. “I love you, daredoll.”

“I love you too, Jaybird.”

And with that, he escorted your out of the warehouse, careful to cover your exposed body with his on the way to the car. An hour later you stood in his headquarters dressed in an outfit matching his. He didn't admit to it, but the fact that he had an armor waiting for you proved that he had never given up hope that you still loved him.

Outside, a mass of soldiers waited in a semicircle, a fire lit in the middle of it. Your former uniform burned to ashes and fed the flames, which went high into the night sky.

“I introduce to you my partner, and your new captain,” Jason announced as you walked to his side. “Lady Arkham.”

Holding his hand, you raised your first to the sky. You glanced at him out of the corners of your eyes, still kind of wonderstruck on how it had all worked out. “Let’s make this city pay for tearing us apart.”

#jason todd #dc imagine #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #reader #dc #Smut

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hikari-writes · 3 years

Text

『Haikyuu!!』

Fluff Oneshot

Winter Wonderland Collab

❝ A Very Special Christmas Eve ❞

Pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime

Warning: None, just some fluff, and mention of one death, and iwa being the husband material he is

Genre: F L O O F

Words: 2.6k

Notes:

- F!Reader

A/N: heres my piece for the winter wonderland collab!! Hope yall enjoy this one!!

Winter Wonderland Masterlist

Your legs swing from side to side as you snuggle closer to the pillow in your arms. The black screened TV stares back at your bored eyes lifelessly, as if expecting you to turn it on. You heave another heavy sigh when you receive a text notification from Hajime. You open the message and a wry smile naturally comes to your lip when you see your husband’s messages.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N…. I dont think i can make it to movie night tonight,,, I still have so many work to do at the office”

You correct your position on the couch before facing your phone again and replying to Hajime’s messages.

“It’s okay hub :) dont work too hard now <3”

You close your phone and go back to staring around your empty living room. How many times has this been already, you thought to yourself.

Ever since Hajime got promoted at his workplace, he has been busier than ever. Of course you're happy for him and you appreciate him doing so much to provide for you both but you can't help but to feel lonely sometimes.

Before his promotion, it's already been a tradition for the two of you to have a movie night together so you can relax and spend some quality time as a married couple.

Even still, he does a lot of things to make it up to you, like making you breakfast early in the morning before you wake up, kissing your forehead and cheeks whenever he gets home after work and a lot more. Just to show his affection and love for you even though he's constantly busy and swamped with works.

You check your phone again to see a new message from Hajime. He tells you that you can go to sleep first, since he'll probably be back at a later time. As you type out your reply for him, you can't help but notice the date shown on top of your phone screen.

It's nearing Christmas. Precisely one week from today. You think back on the memories you shared with Hajime from your previous years of spending Christmas Eve with him.

Those moments are your favourite memories with Hajime of them all. It feels so nice to enjoy a meaningful holiday together with someone you love. Your smile fades as you remember back on how busy Hajime has been.

“Maybe we can't celebrate Christmas Eve together this year….”

You can't help but to feel a little bit disappointed at that realization, but you tried to stay positive...for Hajime's sake. You don't want to burden him by asking him to leave his work early just because you wanted to spend some more time with him.

“What?? You don't think Iwa-ch--- I mean, Hajime-kun can be home for Christmas Eve because he'd be busy with his work??”

You silently sip your bubble tea as you stare at Oikawa's shocked face through the screen of your computer. After fiddling with the straw a bit, you nod your head at his question.

“Y/N-chan, that's ridiculous! No matter how busy he may be, he can't possibly miss spending an important holiday like that with you.”

“I don't know, Oikawa….He's been busy these past few days. And I honestly won't be surprised if he's going to be busy again until Christmas Eve.”

You let out a heavy sigh and Oikawa gives a look of sympathy at you.

You slump back into your chair and take another sip of your drink until there's nothing left in the cup, filling the empty silence between you two. There is a faint sound of people talking in a foreign language from Oikawa's side of the screen.

“I'm not trying to be ungrateful or anything since I know he's working hard for the both of us but….”

You bring your knees from under the table and hug it closer to your face, covering your entire face.

“I just...I don't know if I can handle being alone for Christmas Eve without Hajime.”

You mumble those words through your hidden face, not really caring if Oikawa heard that or not but from the way his soft voice calls out your name, you assume he did.

You hide your pained face in your knees for a lot longer, not noticing the clicking sound coming from behind you. Not until you hear Oikawa calling out your husband's name in a panic do you finally lift your head from the safe spot of your knees.

You stare at Hajime who's still in his suit. He came back rather early today.

Hajime furrows his eyebrows at Oikawa when seeing how you were just hiding your face in your knees a few moments ago.

“Hey, Shittykawa. You weren't trying to make Y/N cry were you?”

The sharp tone of his voice sends a chill down Oikawa's spine and he quickly laughs it off with a smile.

“Hajime-kun, that's mean!! I would never do that to my best friend's wife!”

Hajime puts a hand around your shoulder and lowers his face a bit to match the level of your computer screen before continuing to bicker again with Oikawa.

The scene seems nostalgic to you, bringing your memories again to the times you were in high school. You can't help but to smile softly at them, enjoying their bickering a bit more before deciding that it's getting late and you and Hajime best return to bed by now.

After you close your computer, you turn to Hajime and he immediately plants a kiss on top of your forehead as he always does whenever he comes back.

“You're home early today.”

You comment while wrapping your arms around his neck, resting your head on his chest and taking in the soft beating of his heartbeats.

“Yeah, I finished my work early today.”

He heaves a weary sigh as he replies to you, and you plant another kiss on the bridge of his nose before grinning.

“Well, I'm glad I could snuggle with you tonight while we're sleeping then.”

You both share a kiss before going off to do your night routine.

After you're done with your night routines, you climb onto your bed and snuggle into your soft pillow before pulling out your phone to kill some time while waiting for Hajime to finish his shower.

When you feel a big hand being placed on top of your shoulder, you close your phone and turn back to face Hajime with a soft smile.

“So what were you talking with Oikawa about?”

Hajime starts as the both of you get under the duvet.

“Just catching up and asking him how he's been. He seems to be pretty happy there. Oh, and, it seems that he's still having a hard time trying to not call you Iwa-chan.”

You giggle a bit when remembering back how Oikawa kept referring to Hajime as Iwa-chan like he used to in high school while the both of you were in a video call just now. Now that you're also an “Iwaizumi”, he can't really use the nickname “Iwa-chan” for Hajime anymore.

Hajime hums a bit before nodding.

“Can't say I'm surprised there.”

He pulls you into a hug and you close the distance between you two by snuggling into his chest. You could smell the fresh scent of the body soap he used. It was calming and very like him.

“Something’s bothering you, isn’t it?”

The sudden question almost makes you flinch in his arms. You can’t afford to let him know now but you can’t bring yourself to cover it up and lie to him either. Especially because of how sharp and attentive he can be towards you.

“Yeah… a bit. I was just wondering about that coworker I told you about before.”

Hajime looks down at you and seems thoughtful for a moment.

“You’re still worried about how she would cope with her husband’s death?”

You nod in his chest and tighten your arms around his sturdy build.

Technically, it’s not a lie. You were extremely concerned and worried about your coworker who recently just lost her husband. You can’t help but think, if you were in her place, how would you handle it.

“Losing someone as important as your partner is certainly something that’s hard to cope with. But, knowing that now they’re in a better place up there, watching over you and wanting you to go through life, full of smiles...I think that just makes you feel a lot better. You might not be able to be together now, but one day, you will reunite and you’ll have an eternal span of time to be together.”

You look up at Hajime who’s stroking your hair softly. You didn’t expect him to say all that. Those words just made your heart clench more and you pull on his shirt to lower his face and give him a kiss on his lips.

“Hajime you’re more destructive than I originally thought....”

You bury your face in his chest again, hiding your steaming face and leaving your husband confused.

Days passed and it’s finally Christmas Eve. Many people are in the shopping district, buying the necessities for their home decor and ingredients for cooking. As always, you had bought everything beforehand so as to avoid the gathering crowd.

It’s nearing evening and you can see many young couples around, sitting together and gazing at the decorations in the shopping district. You can’t help but to look at them with nostalgia. It reminded you so much of your younger days with Hajime.

You shake the thought from your head and continue walking away. You chose to take a detour after you’re done with work today, just so you could take a look at the busy shopping district. Since it’s Christmas Eve today, you thought that you’ll start decorating your house when you get back home.

“Hajime’s probably gonna be busy today and tomorrow too so I can take my time a bit,” you mumble to yourself and continue making your way through the district.

Moments after you said that, you received a text message from Hajime that weighs upon your heart like a heavy rock.

”Babe, I’m so sorry I can’t make it home before 12…. Seems like we’ll miss spending time together for this year’s Christmas Eve. Im so sorry again, i know how much you’ve been looking forward to Christmas Eve every year but the work just keep on piling up. And for Christmas tomorrow too...I’m so sorry.”

You thought that maybe if he can’t make it for Christmas Eve, you would have had time to spend on Christmas the next day. You have to accept the fact that this year, there’s just no other way other than to spend it alone and being wrapped up in your blanket. You honestly much prefer Hajime’s strong arms to wrap you up, though.

Christmas Eve is considered to be one of the most popular days to celebrate as a couple and you truly enjoyed spending it with Hajime every year. That’s why you value the celebration so much and you honestly don’t want to celebrate it with anyone else other than him.

Although your main concern right now is more towards the fact that he’s been working too much lately. You’re definitely worried about his health more than anything right now.

“It’s really okay bb! Im grown up now and i know we cant celebrate Christmas eve together every year :) Im just worried that youve been working too much and havent had much rest lately :(( make sure to take care of yourself u hear me ??!”

You see him replying with a promise that he will, and that somehow put you at ease. You tell him you'll reach home soon and send a last 'I love you' message before turning off your phone and picking up your pace.

“I’m home….”

You open the lock and step inside the empty and dark house.

But something feels wrong.

At the center of the living room, you can make out several colourful light bulbs hanging from a Christmas tree.

“Huh….that’s weird. I didn’t remember putting anything there….”

In fact, you haven't even started decorating yet. It makes you wonder if you have decorated the living room while you were asleep.

“But I'm pretty sure it was empty around here before I left for work….”

You look around your house once more and sure enough, it's filled to the brim with Christmas decoration. Your heart flutters at the sight, completely disregarding the odd fact that the house has already been decorated even though you don't remember doing so.

All of a sudden, you feel a pair of strong arms around your waist, pulling you closer before all the lights in the house are turned on.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

The soft voice of Hajime coming from behind startled you a bit, but that doesn't stop the tears that're welling up in your eyes.

“Hajime?! But-- I thought that--”

When you feel his grip around you loosens, you turn around to face him, not really realizing the tears that are threatening to fall down your eyes.

“Surprise?”

He says with a shrug and a grin before embracing you once again. You bury your face in his chest and before you know it, you're already starting to let the tears and a few hiccups out.

Hearing you crying, Hajime quickly releases you with his eyes wide, inspecting your face while you try to hide it in your hands.

“Y/N, what's wrong?”

You can hear his panicked voice calling for you and your hiccups slowly turn into a soft laughter.

“S-sorry...it's just, I really wasn't expecting this and…..All this time I've just felt so lonely thinking that you won't be able to spend Christmas with me but… but this surprise really caught me off guard and my tears just started...”

You try to explain through your tear stained face with a smile. Hearing that explanation, Hajime releases a relieved sigh and cups your cheek in his hands before moving it closer to plant a soft kiss on your lips.

“Sorry I made you feel that way, honey.”

You shake your head and give him another kiss on the lips. You both stare at each other for a moment before letting out a soft giggle.

As he leads you to the dining room, he explains to you how he's been busy working overnight the days before so that he can get an early leave for Christmas Eve. He wants to make a surprise Christmas celebration with you so he took it upon himself to decorate and cook all the food before you came back home from work.

“Hajime, I really appreciate you doing this for me….”

You stroke his face and bring it closer but all of a sudden you flick your fingers to his forehead, thankfully not too hard so your fingers aren't too damaged from the hit.

“But what did I tell you about working too hard, hmmm?? You better be getting enough rest after this or else!”

Your husband just looks at you with a deadpan expression before heaving a small sigh.

“It's okay, I don't have to go to work tomorrow so I plan to rest anyway.”

He sneaks in another kiss, completely catching you off guard and almost making you forgive him right away if not thanks to your strong wife's willpower.

“Oh but...tomorrow's Christmas so….”

You look at him again and a smile automatically graces your lips in a matter of seconds.

“We get to spend the whole day together on Christmas then.”

You hum those words out, and skip your way into the dining room with a smiling Hajime following closely behind you.

“Yeah, I'm looking forward to it.”

That night, the Iwaizumi household is filled with laughter as they dine and chat together, spending their time and valuing each other's company as a happy married couple.

The End

Gen. Taglist: @vventiis @laylahoran @whootwhoot @mirakeul @kiyorei @instantmiya-main @ourvisty @tamaguchi @cadenceh2o @hidehaskak @yamagucji @ynainnit @tsukisemi @that-chick212 @bakuhoetoedoroki @alysken [Join my taglist here!]

Winter Wonderland Taglist: @aii-channn @peteunderoos @jungtoast @nekoclysm @our-tall-slytherin-queen @isabella5 @slippinglasses @yhyucklee @rowley-with-ackerman @lilacnoodles [Get into the winter wonderland taglist on this post!]

#iwaizumi hajime x reader #haikyuu iwaizumi #iwaizumi x you #haikyuu oneshot #[❄]-winter wonderland!

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worseandworser · 3 years

Text

lacking

Ship: shizaya

Rating: T

Warnings/tags: omegaverse with a twist, possibly OOC, alpha!Shizuo, sigma!Izaya (lol)

ao3

Izaya Orihara had no scent. Nothing. Not a whiff of it.

Shizuo was taken aback the moment they met — he heard the sound of clapping, saw crimson eyes matching a red shirt and pitch-black hair, but he couldn't smell anything. He couldn't sense anything. The only feeling that boy inspired was a strange perception that there was something lacking about him. Shizuo could recall the growl forming in the depths of his own chest, the mind-wracking wave of rage tangling around his heart like a vine, and then jumping into a fight that would seemingly have no end. Izaya Orihara had no scent; just a smile. Cunning, knife-sharp lips twisted upwards. He dodged Shizuo's attacks and stood unfazed by the intimidating effect Shizuo's anger brought out in every single person he had met in his life.

Being an alpha implied heightened senses, and being Shizuo Heiwajima implied taking that to a whole new level. He could smell a beta — the soft, monochromatic buzz they exhaled — from across the room. Omegas or alphas — depending on the scent, from across the block. Shinra had once theorized that the range of pheromones Shizuo can perceive could be the cause of his temperamental outbursts, as if he was living in a constant state of emotional overload, or something like that. Shizuo didn't really pay attention, much less understand. Though he did get that Izaya Orihara was not alpha, nor beta, and much less an omega.

Sigma, Shinra had said. He can't release or be affected by pheromones.

That alone had sent Shizuo in another surge of anger.

And after that, he went back home and asked his mother about it.

She frowned at him. "Sigma? Do you know someone like that?" Then, at Shizuo's explanation, she shook her head. "Stay away from him. That kind of person is not to be trusted."

In the beginning, Shizuo agreed with her. Not only that, but he thought it'd be easy. No scent meant he wouldn't be walking around Raijin under the constant awareness of Izaya Orihara and pretending he didn't exist would be the easiest thing. It'd be the first time Shizuo wouldn't have to worry about the pheromonal shadow of a bastard who pissed him off.

But of course, Izaya Orihara had different plans.

* * * *

kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill

* * * *

The next morning, the asshole was hiding on the school's roof, arms splayed over the railing and the devilish smile plastered to his face.

"You sent that gang after me," Shizuo accused.

With an almost-perfectly crafted innocent expression, Izaya Orihara tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck, but the wave of pheromones Shizuo expected never came. "I have no idea what you are talking about, Shizu-chan."

Shizuo's hands closed in tight fists. "Don't call me that!"

"Ah, since you're asking so politely," said Izaya. "What would Shizu-chan prefer, then? I'm thinking of 'Beast'." He grinned. "Or maybe Monster."

After that, everything became a blur of red, red, red — and black hair tousled by the wind, and the silver gleam of a knife, and the chirping tone of taunting, and crimson eyes that followed Shizuo's every movement like they could eat him alive. And no scent.

Nothing. Not a whiff of it.

It was disturbing, distressing, disconcerting: how could someone who could not feel others, who could not assess their intentions or states, be so quick on his feet and escape Shizuo's grasp like he was made of butter? How could he dodge Shizuo's strength, surpass his speed, predict his strike before even Shizuo could know himself? How could Izaya Orihara, when he was lacking? How could Izaya Orihara know Shizuo Heiwajima, when Shizuo Heiwajima couldn't smell a whiff of Izaya Orihara himself?

He was always so close, Shizuo's hand reached just right next to the black middle-school jacket, and Izaya slipped away by the width of a hair.

And then he laughed, tilting his head to the side, and the sharp breath Shizuo would take as a reflex brought nothing but the scent of their surroundings.

* * * *

Over the years, Shizuo learned more about sigmas. They were rare, extremely so. Izaya had been the first one in Raijin in years. Perhaps, one of the few in the entirety of Tokyo. And just like Shizuo had noticed on the first day they met, sigmas are lacking — no pheromones, no glands, no receptors. If betas are considered to have mild, flexible scents, then sigmas have nothing to show. No pheromones meant they couldn't communicate normally, they couldn't sense you and your needs and you couldn't sense theirs, so all the books, and pamphlets, and late-night TV shows said the same: therefore they can't be trusted.

"I'm always alone no matter what I do," he groused to Celty, after one of his and Izaya's fights. "I guess Izaya is the same as me. That bastard probably doesn't have anyone he can call a friend."

Must be a lonesome existence, that of a sigma. If Shizuo, with his heightened senses and all, had such a hard time with people, he couldn't imagine what it would be like. To not have the confirmation that he wasn't unwanted — to not have the soft sweetness of Celty's scent, in that specific brand that spoke of companionship.

But yeah, that flea did not deserve an ounce of his sympathy.

He is nothing like you, Celty's PDA said.

Shizuo nodded, with an odd hesitation almost weighting his head immobile.

* * * *

One day, Shizuo had his nose buried in Izaya's neck, right where the glands should be, and Izaya still had no scent.

He smelled of skin, sweat, fancy soap, and shampoo. Coffee. The city's traffic. But all of those were neutral, they were supposed to be background noise to the idiosyncratic experience that Izaya Orihara should be but there was nothing. Not a whiff of it.

"Stop slobbering all over my neck," Izaya snapped. "If you bite me, I'll stab your eyeball out of the socket. But thinking better, with your monster healing, you might as well grow a new one in—"

So Shizuo moved back to his lips. To shut him up, of course.

Shizuo wasn't one to sleep around — or better yet, with his particular strength, he couldn't be one to sleep around — but he had tried before. Two omegas and a beta. With the first two, he had felt intoxicated, out of control, it was like losing his temper except that it was good actually, and both smelled like strawberry cake and sweet vanilla, mouth-watering and mind-blowing. The second was an unlucky drunk night, red-dyed hair and a loud, obnoxious laugh, and rain and saltwater and whatever nostalgia he could get from Raijin's library. They all had scents, strong ones, and Shizuo knew what to do simply by breathing in and following his instincts.

But Izaya — just like everything about him, this was also difficult. When Shizuo breathed in, he was left on edge. The oddity of the lack of pheromones struck him over and over, as it did every time they met, as if Shizuo could never be truly prepared for the lack of instinctual balance, of communication, of that irrational connection he had no idea he needed until he met someone who couldn't create it.

To guide himself, Shizuo had to pay attention to other signs. The hitch of Izaya's breath, the twitch of his hips and thighs, the gasps, the whimpers, the moans. The bossing around — Shizu-chan touch here, right there, yes, faster, harder, don't bite don't bite — the way Izaya clawed at his arms and back and chest and did exactly what he told Shizuo not to and bit down, right on Shizuo's neck, right where it mattered, where it would matter were Izaya anyone but himself. But all they got from the bite was blood, the smell bitter and heavy, sending sparks of heat down Shizuo's spine.

Shizuo growled and Izaya let him. Let him. His body bending to Shizuo without the need for words. As if Izaya could sense what Shizuo wanted, as if he could feel it, and accommodate it like he was made for it.

* * * *

In the aftermath, when they laid down on Izaya's expensive sheets, Shizuo curled an arm around him to pull him close. This time, Izaya didn't slip away, no; he hid his face in Shizuo's neck, nosed the bite he left there, and breathed in deep.

Shizuo's hold tightened.

#shizaya #omegaverse #man writing shizuo's pov is so difficult i feel like banging my head against a wall

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the-magic-lava-lamp · 3 years

Text

Harvest Moon

Summary: {A light sequel to: Unforgettable} They laughed, sort of sadly. The full night sky enriched them with gentle peace, strengthened by the soft light of the stars. The temperature dropped considerably since Sam had initially come out. But he didn’t mind the nice chill, it braced his skin and left him with tingling goosebumps. It reminded Sam how real the moment actually was. Paying less attention to the hearty sloshes of water, Sam picked up his radio.

Ships: SamBucky

Word Count: 5,285

The light from the orange sunset flushed Sam Wilson’s cheeks, encouraging the spread of an internally hot blush. Color blossomed under his soft complexion with all the grace of the water rings rippling under the rocks skipping on the lake. Though the sweat was just beginning to puddle in his palms and drip down his temple, Sam was only focused on the fevered senses of comfort which had been deep-rooted in his chest since arriving back home.

The babbling waters had called him out to the docks just the same as they did when he was small. And following that nostalgia, Sam felt the ghost of supper on the stove. Turns out his fucked up Avengers mind could still remind himself to be home before the porcelain plates hit the table. No longer his Mama--but Sarah who would be annoyed with him and that was perhaps more threatening. He thought as his tiny radio played on.

AJ and Cass had fallen asleep with the gentle nudge of a fuzzy re-run of ‘Whose Line is it Anyway?’ and the promise of a hot meal when they awoke. Sam’s absence would be noticed very soon.

‘Sittin' in the mornin' sun

I'll be sittin' when the evenin' comes

Watching the ships roll in

Then I watch 'em roll away again, yeah

I'm sittin' on the dock of the bay

Watchin' the tide roll away, ooh

I'm just sittin' on the dock of the bay

Wastin' time…’

He swiped salty sweat from his brow and found himself dwelling on the evening, wanting to change the direction of the souring sun. No matter what, Sam always began to mourn the day at around 5 p.m. Everyday could’ve been better. The threat of night’s permanent closure and the bearer of nightmares fermented him with anxiety. He was working on that issue with his therapist.

‘Now I'm just gon' sit, at the dock of the bay

Watchin' the tide roll away, ooh yeah

Sittin' on the dock of the bay

Wastin' time…’

Otis began the famed whistling as Sam leaned back on his hands, palms flat on the warm dock. He felt the movement just before a voice began whistling along behind him. It chirped delicately in Sam’s ear, until the song faded and with it--

Sam turned--Bucky Barnes sing-along.

Bucky grinned, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Nice to see you so…” He craned his neck and squinted his eyes. “Lazy.” Even he looked a bit confused by the word choice.

“Thanks…” Sam chuckled.

“I just mean--” Buck paused, scratching down from his chin to his neck. Sam saw that he did that often enough to earn patches of grainy red skin under his facial hair.

Sam smirked, pulling his left thigh up and around from the edge. His eyes simmered Bucky’s blush.

“Have you ever had the time to laze around?” Bucky asked, amazed at his own wondering. “To sit and watch the sun on the water?” He gestured frantically outward. “You’ve been a busy guy...not that I helped you with that any…”

Sam shook his head. “Nah, man. Tracking your ass for Steve reaped some rewards.” He gestured for the man to rest his old bones down next to him and Bucky hesitantly took the offer. His knees cracked with sharp pops all the way down.

“No old man jokes, I swear-”

Sam held up his hands. “I wasn’t planning on it, Bucky.” He glanced at Steve’s old friend and for a moment, couldn’t believe the man of history books and horror stories was ‘sun-setting’ in Sam’s home-town. The orange light caressed his face in the same eerie way it’d done way back at Tony’s funeral.

“Thanks for letting me stay-” Bucky went to rub his chin again. “Not quite separate vacations but…” He chuckled, fading off. It was subconscious, the way Bucky led in with no follow through. He wanted Sam to be the one to initiate the conversation.

But Sam bit his tongue. He deserved to hear what Bucky had to say without having to pull it out himself.

Bucky turned with those doe eyes, tired but with enough energy left to admire his partner. “I hurt you....” He frowned, bitter with himself. “I know that and I’m damn sorry, Sam.” His voice was crisp and steady but his eyes wavered.

Sam sighed, eyes back on the water. “We were getting somewhere, man. And you just…” He flicked his hand out. “Disappeared on me.” He paused.

“I shouldn’t have left you...especially at such an ambiguous time for us.” Bucky stumbled slightly on his words.

Sam took a long blink, remembering the ‘unforgettable’ feeling of being held again. “I’m more hurt by the fact that I got nothing but radio silence from you-” He swallowed. “Past that-” He glanced at Bucky “Thing we had just started. I thought we’d reached a point where we could communicate.” He shrugged with muted emotion. “We were friends.” He added with a slight question in his voice. He watched Bucky’s eyes flicker with guilt.

“If you had given me a heads up, maybe. That’s all.” Sam patted his thigh. “I can understand needing space. I understand that even answering texts can be difficult as hell when your mind feels sick. I’ve been there, Buck. Shit’s hard.” He felt a dark twist in his stomach and tried not to dwell in his own memories. “I don’t hold this against you. I know you’re a good guy.” Sam made sure Bucky looked him in the eye for that particular sentiment. “But you should know how I felt about it. Whatever relationship we end up having; Friends, co-workers, partners-” He flicked his fingers. “I’d hope you’d think about how your decisions affect me.”

They held the next silence for a few minutes, Bucky seemingly taking in what he’d said. “For me, it was like I blinked and you were gone with the wind. I didn’t know how you were doing for months--if you were even okay. But then, out of the blue, you come back and you’re pissed about something that wasn’t about you.” Sam shrugged, feeling a bit lighter for every word he’d been simmering on for weeks.

Bucky grimaced, looking extremely pained. “I’m really sorry, Sam.” He repeated himself with genuine regret. The light around them bled darker. “I let a lot of my intrusive thoughts control me.” He hissed at his own words but quickly moved on. “Part of me let it happen because I’m not sure I could handle a competent hand on the wheel. I’ve lived as the...Winter Soldier longer than Bucky, you know-? And Holy shit that’s something I try not to perceive.” He turned, hoping he wasn’t over-sharing. “It’s terrifying to think it’s just in my nature...being destructive. I’m always nervous-” He paused again. “Not that I’m going to hurt someone--but the feeling that I need to will bleed back into me…” His voice faded off again as he picked at a loose string on his jeans.

“This is something you’re talking about in therapy, right?” Sam quirked his brow, needing the answer to be yes but the distant pain in his head reminded him that he dodged plenty of shit from his therapist.

Bucky nodded and before Sam could speak again, asked the question he’d been aching to for months. “I want to go back to you-”

“Of course you do.” Sam chuckled.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “How have you been, really?”

Sam thought for a minute. “Working myself to death, mostly.” He laughed, though it didn’t sound happy at all. “Been seeing Sarah and the boys as much as I can…”

The sky purpled, darkness bleeding into the orange hues. The stars would soon be visible and Bucky was almost positive Sam would now push the question off, neglecting the details. For as much as he complains that Bucky doesn’t talk about himself enough, Sam often avoids voicing his own feelings.

“Sarah was swamped and anxious, despite what she says-”

“And what were you feeling, Samuel?” Bucky playfully tapped his friend’s knee with a smug grin.

Sam rolled his eyes but grinned slightly at the familiar teasing. He wasn’t sure how to put his thoughts into words so he turned back to the water. “Thought a lot about the soul stone, actually.” The sentence rolled casually off his tongue but did nothing to relieve the stress it’d been causing him.

Bucky tried to remain stoic but a glint of concern shined over his eyes. The infinity stone felt somehow personal between them. Though nobody had memories of their time dusted, Sam and Bucky came out with a new sense of intimacy for each other. It was as if something happened in those 5 years, which felt like only a brief nap to them and in that blip, they’d connected. Falling together was comfortingly natural after that.

“My last thought before I...dusted, was ‘Maybe I’ll get to see Riley.’ ” Sam whizzed his palm in the air, voice breaking slightly and definitely against his will.

Bucky’s heart twitched. They’d gone dancing in the evening after Tony Stark’s funeral. It was the most blissful Bucky’d ever been and he’d spent the night in Sam’s hotel room doing the most talking he’d ever spoken. Nothing physical happened nor did either man think of it, they were too busy soaking up all the information they could get from the other before the night ended. They could truly get to know each other for the first time.

Bucky went on about his family, as much as he could remember anyway. Sam talked of his parents; Paul and Darlene and eventually trailed his way to Riley.

Sam halted his next thought for a few minutes because it was damn hard to illustrate. “I know we weren’t actually dead-” He rolled his lips together “Or maybe we were, still not clear on all that.” He sighed into another little laugh. “But I just want a few more minutes with him...you know?”

Bucky nodded, giving him a ‘go on’ expression.

“I guess our souls were floating around in the stone but--” He broke off, looking down at the water. “For five years, Both our names were on gravestones and in all that time, I couldn’t just see or feel him one time?” Fists now clenched into tight fists. His body language was horrifyingly angry, contrasting the deep despair that was the expression on his face. He was almost sure that none of his words made sense, they’d been jumbling around in him for months like a virus and to be regurgitated so suddenly felt...messy.

The radio, which Sam had long forgotten about, continued to roll-out soft volume static above glimpses of songs. “Fuck, Sam--” Bucky squinted towards the sky, taking in the brief glance into Sam’s head. “I know exactly what you mean…” He turned quickly, admiring Sam’s presence as his adoration for the man thumped like the heart-beat in his chest. “I always figured I’d never get that peace with my family...but I always assumed it’d be for some iteration of Hell.” He rubbed his palm against his neck and laughed.

Sam elbowed him lightly, forcing Bucky to find his words again.

“Knowing--through you and how I feel about you--” Bucky gestured between them. “That I had a mellow...impermanent afterlife(?) yet still didn’t get to see my family...well it feels like I was cheated.” He shrugged.

“I don’t think your soul’s going anywhere bad, Buck. Don’t know what happens after we’re gone for good but you’re not ditching me again.” He drifted off, feeling a sudden unbearable disappointment. “Nat’ll be there too.”

Bucky took in a breath, enjoying the tickling static of Sam’s hand. “Riley too, don’t worry about that, ok?” He tapped Sam’s hand. “I think, when we go back into the weeds and the dirt--”

“That’s a tender way of putting it, Bucky.” Sam blinked, trying not to put himself in an internal coffin because he was significantly chilled now.

Bucky smiled. “I think we get the peace of nothing. Just a return to nature with the souls of those we loved.” He rubbed his finger into the corner of his eye like a grandpa and sighed. “I’ve seen and experienced a lot of the Heaven/Hell folklore in my life and I’m not crazy about it, Sam” He wagged his finger and Sam pushed him slightly with a nice feeling of content.

“We can only comfort ourselves, nothing greater will do it for us. So we write ourselves a multitude of fiction that may, or may not, ease us into accepting death.” Sam bumped their elbows together and eyed a distant bird as it darted across and just above the water.

“I’m glad whatever it was that happened between us in that stone, happened.” Bucky added sheepishly. Turning to look at his partner under the increasingly vivid stars, Bucky hiccupped as a huge wave of affection hit him. “Cause I really like you, Sam.”

"But don't discredit yourself. It wasn't just the stone that magically brought us together--" Bucky lightly pushed Sam's bicep. "I-...I can't begin to explain how much it means to me that you made an effort to be my friend...even during the last few months of me ghosting you and not listening to you about the shield. You didn't have to do that."

Somewhere supper was threatening to get cold and Sarah was playing their meals with a concerned frown, Sam just knew that sister of his too well. He hoped to scrap together just a bit more time. "What can I say?" He smiled "I like you too. People need people, Buck. I wasn't gonna sit back and let you cut yourself off."

Bucky laid back on the dock, laying his palm flat to his chest. He repeated the phrase over and over in his head. 'People need people.' "Goes both ways, you know Sam?" He spoke with deep confidence but continued to laze on the dock, trying to find an angle where the sun was blocked and he could stare up at Sam. “Meaning, I hope you’ve been letting Sarah help you out...and seeing your therapist.”

Sam gently smacked his hand atop Bucky’s like a comforting beat of thunder. “Giving my best effort.” He nodded thoughtfully.

Bucky fluttered his eyes with the pace of his heart. “This is the first time I’ve seen you so...still, Wilson.”

Sam tossed his head back and laughed, knowing Bucky had hit the nail on the head with that one. The back of his neck cooled as he watched the slates of wood under them pale. The glimmers of tired orange light died and vapid pastel-white tones took their place, nestled in the cracks. Part of him wanted to disagree though he hadn’t the spirit. “I don’t like relaxing because it gives me too much time inside myself.”

Bucky nodded, encouraging Sam to go on. Fearing the man would never pick it up again if he suddenly decided to close himself off again.

“There’s too much to do...I feel like I don’t deserve it.” Sam shrugged, a clear illustration of his frustration. He’d definitely pulled this thread a few million times in his life.

“Don’t deserve it?” Bucky sat up just a little, resting on his forearms, he slanted his head as if the adoring smile was just too heavy. “C’mon Doll--” He cut himself off a bit too late.

“Slipping back into old habits, huh?” Sam rolled his eyes but waved a dismissive hand. “You’re cute.” He teased, shoving the guy gently.

Bucky played along, pretending Sam had used enough of that strength of his to knock him back onto the dock. “I think now is a great time for a few days off Sam.”

The man hummed, thinking about the public...what they expected of their new ‘Captain America’ and what the flicker of the new spot-light in his favor revealed about those who loved Steve for all the wrong reasons. Knowing, as a black man, he’d have to go above and beyond all those assumptions just to garner the same amount of respect they gave Steve. The anger he felt from that was righteous but god forbid he show any sense of hurt because then he’d just be labeled ‘ungrateful’ and ‘giving people grief’. He rubbed under his eye with a longing sigh. “I can’t really afford that right now, Buck.”

His body shivered as he tried to push away the intrusive images; Walker slamming into the man over and over without hesitation, thick puddles of blood covering his shield, carrying Karli’s lifeless body over an audience where half of the people celebrated her death...perceiving and exploiting her as another ‘super-villain’.

“Hey.” Bucky softly sat up and pulled Sam’s elbow until their eyes met. “I’ve been told I’m a great listener.” He didn’t pull away, instead hesitantly he curled his hand around Sam’s arm. His fingers pressed dimples into Sam’s skin. Bucky nestled there and his friend exhaled a little, unclenching his body.

“It’s daunting.” He nodded to himself before tipping his chin to face Bucky. “A bucket doesn’t hold a tidal wave but that’s all I got.” He shrugged, noticing Bucky’s quirked brow. “Something my dad used to say...meaning there’s too much to say so I gotta give you a shitty summary, you know?” He shook his head.

“I know I’m one to talk but try using more words...buzz-words if you have to.” Bucky looked momentarily proud of his modern vocabulary and squeezed Sam’s arm tighter.

Sam chuckled. “Let’s say...nerve-wrecking.” He added, bumping his elbow into Bucky’s side. “With all that’s happened...I’m worried--” He landed on a word he felt comfortable with. “Being Captain America...it’s heavy on my shoulders, man. I know I can do it, I trust myself when it comes down to the wire. I hold myself to my standards.” He trailed off again, listening to distant sounds of kids skipping rocks across the water. “I know where this job’s going to take me and I’m ok with that, glad to do it.” He looked back at Bucky with determined eyes.

“I’m not concerned with my fate.” Another deep breath racked his body, he wasn’t used to being so utterly serious with his current company. “I think about how it ended for Tony and I worry about the kid--”

Bucky nodded, He’d only briefly been aware of Stark’s ‘surrogate’ son and spoke a handful of words to him at the funeral, Sam and Wanda at his side.

Sam rubbed his neck with his free hand, feeling intense pressure all over his body. All his limbs tingled as if they were asleep. He’d not realized the true extent of how much this had been eating away at him. Speaking of eating, dinner was for sure cold by now…“Met his Aunt at the funeral.” She’d been proud of her boy but behind her eyes lived guttural fear, Sam knew that much. “I’m thinking about Rhodey because I sure as hell know the pain of losing your best friend.”

Bucky tightened his grip on Sam even further. He’d lost Steve so many times but the time had come for the permanent end and by then...well had they even felt like best friends anymore?

“I can’t even figure out what’s going on with Wanda.” Sam clicked his tongue with a bitter chuckle. “Girl’s doing her best to stay off the grid and I can’t imagine that’s good for her. I know Torres can handle himself but I wonder if I should be helping him more. Not to mention Bruce. What the hell is his mental state right now?” He added with a confused wave of his hand. “I’m even worrying about Scott!” Sam rubbed at his eyebrow and sighed. “This is all beside Sarah and the kids, who I’m constantly thinking about.” He laughed, voice strained and tired.

Bucky waited a few seconds, just to make sure Sam had finished. In that short moment, his heart swelled for him. “You’re a good person, Sam. But you’re only one man.” He shook him just a little bit. “Truthfully, You’ll always be concerned for them. It’s just in your nature. Don’t fight the intrusive thoughts...accept their presence and remember you’ve got a team.” Bucky trailed off, going over what he’d just said again in his head.

Sam’s shoulders sank with another deep sigh. “Thanks, Buck.” He swiped his hand down his face and noticed how much lighter he felt.

Bucky responded physically. He tugged Sam down with him as he laid back on the dock, shoulders bumping together harmoniously which sent chills through Bucky’s entire body. The good kind...maybe the amazing kind. Hell, they tingled under his skin just about every moment he spent with Sam. That deeply buried fear that he might spend the rest of his life making himself excruciatingly uncomfortable in his own body, trapped under his skin which was always crawling, faded from the realm of possibility each time Sam’s presence flushed Bucky with comfortable jitters.

“You’re getting good taste, by the way-”

Bucky only squinted at him, still half in deep thought. So Sam started Otis’s whistling again and watched his friend realize what he was talking about. His nose scrunched up while he nodded.

“How do you decide what to listen to?” Sam turned, they were nearly nose-to-nose. “I mean, how do you narrow it down when you’ve got decades to catch up on?” Sam’s mind flickered through artists like a jukebox--which was 1 thing he’d always wanted to buy, a real old school one.

Bucky shifted his jaw, making an eerie click, a precursor to his amused grin. “I made a list of artists I remember liking before…” He waved his hand, turning slightly to watch the dewey clouds cover the moon. “And the periods in-and-out of being frozen...I have a list of what I remember by decade-” He chuckled.

Sam sat up on his forearms. “I’d like to see these lists. The record set-up in Sarah’s living room is not a decoration, you know? It’s almost as great as mine back in D.C.” He grinned, thinking about the days, so far gone now. Mama and Sarah dancing around the kitchen.

“It really faded off during the 80’s.” Bucky pushed up to level himself next to Sam. “And not that I’ve had much time, mind you--” he laughed. “But from there, I just follow what I’m fond of like family trees and consider the few recommendations I’ve collected.” He trailed off, starting to do the Otis whistle again.

Sam let him follow through to the end, anticipating the tender connotations of the song to come after this day ended. “Out of all these decades...who are your favorite artists? Just curious.” Sam grinned. The answer to this question spoke loudly about a person, in his opinion.

Bucky looked thoughtfully content with the question, grin cocking a bit to the right as he held out his fist above him. “I’d have to say...Ella-” He flicked out a thumb, no last name necessary. Sam knew that woman like the back of his hand.

“Nat King Cole-” Bucky softened his eyes, searching again for that unforgettable memory in Sam, and smiling when the expression was reciprocated in his eyes which shimmered like sunlight through the trees. “Roy Orbison.” Two more metal fingers curled down. “John Denver and Billy Joel.” He let his hand fall back to his chest, satisfied for only a few seconds. “But I really love Judy Garland too.”

“So you like the mellow ballads--” He hummed. “Slow and kinda sad, huh?” Sam bumped his arm lightly. It made good sense to him. Bucky enjoyed the peace which came effortlessly from lone singer-songwriters. His five--or rather six--showed a natural progression.

“What about you?” Bucky asked, in a calm tone of voice though his eyes read eager.

“Marvin Gaye, Sam Cooke, The Drifters…” Sam paused, really thinking over his picks. “Earth Wind and Fire, Linda Ronstadt and since you got a bonus...Billie Holiday.” Sam rested his palm flat on his chest, content to feel the steady beating that let him know he was still alive. A rich sense of comfort rushed over him as if a fresh load of laundry had just been dropped on his still body. There’d been too many days in his life where that buried thumping was only a reminder of non-stop existence, like a neverending rollercoaster. Installing him with dread, guilt and panic. He was glad to find those days fewer and farther between.

“You make me feel like I’m livin’ in a Drifters song, Doll.” Bucky was only half teasing, for he was speaking a genuine thought but wasn’t sure how welcome it’d be.

“I like that one.” Sam hummed, turning his cheek once more toward the man beside him. “Tell me how you really feel.” He hiked himself up fully to return to his seated position, legs dangling over the side and casting faint shadows of foot-steps on the water.

Bucky paused with concern, not sure he understood the reply before he processed it fully. He wanted to smirk but the sentiment out-weighed the amusement. He sat up too, pulling one knee up to rest an arm over while the other dangled next to Sam’s. “I got it bad, Sam.” He made their wandering eyes meet.

“Me too.” Sam nodded with that dazzling grin. “You’re under my skin, what can I say?” He shook his head and tried to let his smile fade, finding he couldn’t.

“If they weren’t gone...I’d be buggin’ you to meet my family.” Bucky ignored the twist in his gut because Sam’s reactions were his comfort. “Though who’s to say how they’d feel about the….” He trailed off and Sam nodded. “You being a fella part of it--”

“A fella of color, too.” Sam added with a bit of a smirk.

“Fuck.” Bucky cursed quietly and playfully tugged Sam’s hand. They curled their fingers together in an exquisitely natural way. “They loved me…” His face stilled with longing. “I’d like to think--But maybe it’s best not to go down that road. I don’t believe I turned out how they’d wanted anyway.” He chuckled, pitfully.

Sam tightened their grip on each other for a minute. “I know what you mean.” He bumped their folded hands onto Bucky’s thigh. “I’m always wondering what my parents would think of all this…” He flicked his free hand. “My career?” He almost wanted to laugh with astonished pride. Never had he expected to grow up to be a superhero. “Riley too.” He felt there was more to say but his mouth fell shut.

“Just a way to hurt ourselves, I guess.” Bucky shrugged. “And we sure as Hell love to do that.”

They laughed, sort of sadly. The full night sky enriched them with gentle peace, strengthened by the soft light of the stars. The temperature dropped considerably since Sam had initially come out. But he didn’t mind the nice chill, it braced his skin and left him with tingling goosebumps. It reminded Sam how real the moment actually was. Paying less attention to the hearty sloshes of water, Sam picked up his radio.

‘Come a little bit closer

Hear what I have to say

Just like children sleepin'

We could dream this night away…’

He might have heard the song before, couldn’t be sure, and if he was alone he might have continued flipping stations just in case an older favorite was slipping through his fingers. But Bucky began to hum with the tune.

‘But there's a full moon risin'

Let's go dancin' in the light

We know where the music's playin'

Let's go out and feel the night…’

Sam gathered himself up from the creaky dock, stretching his body little by little and watching Bucky’s wandering eyes. He gently held out his hands which was enough of a sign for Bucky to happily grab them and pull himself up.

Sam shoved the radio in his pocket with a smile and though Bucky was more than just pleased to see him so jovial, he also felt a flicker of nervousness. “Man...for the first time in a while, I feel lucky as Hell.”

‘Because I'm still in love with you

I want to see you dance again

Because I'm still in love with you

On this harvest moon…’

Sam raised his brow and initiated the first few dance steps with his partner hardly noticing the movement at all. “How’s that?”

“I’m lucky to be in love with someone I like so much.” Bucky puffed out a relaxed sigh with his words and finally leaned into the dancing with real vigor. “Sam, I’ve never wanted to spend my life with someone as badly as I do with you.”

Wind whistled past their shoulders but Sam felt perfectly warm. He let Bucky take the lead and allowed himself to be spun. The cool light of the moon acted as a highlighter, beams of translucent white caressed the shape of Sam’s body. Following the curve of his hips and sliding down the length of his legs. “Growing old with you...becoming a cranky old man couple, that sounds like fun.” He spoke as if he hadn’t had true fun in years which was probably true.

A bush fondly bloomed under Bucky’s skin. Behind his fluttering eyelashes, Bucky indulged for once in his life. To drink in all that was this man in front of him.

However Sam’s eyes were now focused on a cupped hand, which had somehow slipped from Bucky’s, where a yellow toned light would flicker every few seconds. Whenever the yellow light skimmed his face, he would grin with pure joy.

“You never caught a firefly before, Sam?” Bucky asked in jest, with a huff of amused laughter.

Sam gently guided the bug into Bucky’s face.

“Oh, fuck! You asshole” Bucky scrunched up his nose and swatted dramatically at his nose. “I change my mind, cancel my idea. Gonna crawl back into the absolute hole that is my apartment--” He playfully backed away from his friend.

Before Bucky could slip the last inch of his skin from Sam’s hand, the man used the full strength of his extended arm to fiercely pull him back and into his chest. Like a damn professional dancer. “I’ve been seeing myself from grief’s eyes for too damn long. Think I’m ready to take control of my own life. I want to be with you.” He playfully grinned. “What about you?”

Bucky glowed in Sam’s arms. “For a long time, I lost my sense of self…” He scratched behind his ear. “But never my fuckin’ point of view.” His voice broke just a little. “I had to see and feel every horrendous thing the Winter Soldier did. “I’ll bear the consequences for the rest of my life and I accept that.” He shook his head. “But I’m ready to accept happiness too. I really want to be with you, Sam.”

Sam nodded, content as he’d ever been. “I think we should get our dinner before Sarah comes to drag us by our ears.”

Bucky pressed a sweet kiss, full of longing and fulfillment. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best.” He laughed, taking Sam’s arm and pulling him down the dock with a spring in both their steps.

‘But now it's gettin' late

And the moon is climbin' high

I want to celebrate

See it shinin' in your eye’

‘Because I'm still in love with you

I want to see you dance again

Because I'm still in love with you

On this harvest moon’

#sambucky #is this good?#idk #i feel too awful to focus #sam wilson #Bucky Barnes #winterfalcon #the falcon and the winter soldier #sarah wilson #my fanfiction #tell me what you think #Marvel Comics #marvel #MCU #marvel fanfiction

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timextoxhajima · 4 years

Audio

Playlist Feels: SHORT SERIES PART 3

PART 1 / PART 2

Member: Juyeon

Genre: angst, drama, SOME smut ????

“you lie but i don’t let it define you.”

it is snowing when you reach your office, a team of stylists and make up artists running past you to the studio where you were scheduled to meet a guest for the next issue of your magazine.

being the editor and, occasionally, the chief photographer of such a renowned name placed more pressure on you that you liked. sometimes it put you off, the way it showed you the true colors of celebrities and people who were supposed to be respected in their fields of profession was never a job secret you could get used to.

“filming in three hours, y/n! guest’s coming in about an hour’s time,” the interviewer strides past you with a file in her arms, following closely behind another makeup artist.

“got it, will be in the studio in ten,” you pull off your scarf and get the door of your office open, ready to get your computer on so you could check who was in the studio for the interview and photo-shoot today.

but an interruption in the form of a knock on your door warrants your attention, and your boss pokes his head in without waiting for you to respond.

“can i get you into the studio right now? photographer’s having some trouble setting up the lighting.”

“but i--”

“our guest today’s easy-going and candid so he should be alright with waiting.”

a nod shakes your head before you could process his words, and he pulls back out into the hallways. you put your computer to sleep mode and pat down the creases of your clothes after pulling off your coat.

the snow outside catches your attention for a few seconds, the large christmas tree sitting right at the entrance of the shopping mall opposite your office building makes you warm with nostalgia.

white looked so pretty on green and red and gold decorations; people were leaving footprints in the snow on the pavement and couples were holding hands on the way to wherever they were.

you remember the first year you saw snow with juyeon. he fell sick because he thought jumping into the snow and making a snow angel with no coat was a good idea.

the memory plants a small smile on your lips, and it that takes you awhile to notice. you look away from the world outside, hurriedly pressing your hands into your cheeks to rub the smile off your face.

you get the day’s schedule into a file and make your way to the studio in the basement of the building. the lift opens to a familiarly dark space surrounding the brightly lit studio area where all the lights were, the bustling in the area telling you that something was wrong and the photographer was panicking.

“okay, kevin,” you teasingly call out with a little impatience. “fill me in.” the file in your hand gets tossed onto the table where the screens connected to the camera.

kevin has his hands in his hair with his eyes wide open.

“the left one isn’t responding with the same amount of sensitivity as the right one and the camera sends pictures back to the screen that look underexposed,” your instincts bring you to wherever he was pointing to, and you start fiddling with the equipment to check for any damages.

“have you tried shutting them off and turning them on again?”

“three times.”

“hmm,” you hum to yourself, returning to the monitors and comparing the picture on the screen on the DSLR and the monitor. “we might need to use the other set then, send this one for repairing. can’t you use another camera?”

“i think we can replace the equipment but if our guest comes earlier or even on time, we’re going to start the photoshoot late.”

“huh,” you rub your chin, the makeup artists and stylists making a fuss in the dressing room while they set up the clothes and make up products. “i’ll give him a call--”

“good morning!”

kevin turns around first to the lift, and you follow suit only by instinct. the light coming from behind you must’ve turned you into a silhouette because you could see his face clearly.

lee juyeon was carrying a box of donuts, and he was walking in with someone else, presumably his agent or a manager.

“mr lee, you’re extremely early!” kevin reaches out to shake his hand, and your fingers curl up against the mouse connected to the monitor.

“i don’t like missing out,” he grins and hands kevin the box of donuts. “just call me juyeon. last i checked, we are the same age.”

then your back is turned on them, head hanging low and your eyes glued to the table. you reach for the file that belonged to kevin leaning on the CPU, and you flip it open with such aggression, the whole studio would’ve heard it had it not been bustling with activity.

GUEST: LEE JUYEON

OCCUPATION: CHOREOGRAPHER

DATE: DECEMBER ISSUE

INTERVIEW QUESTIONS: TO BE PREPARED AND VERIFIED -- VERIFIED

the flap of the file hides the name from your view, and you finally realise kevin’s been calling out to you for awhile now.

“y/n!”

your temples tighten and your jaws should’ve cracked under the pressure when you turn around. juyeon’s smile shrinks but never really disappears when he sees you again after about two weeks.

his hair looks less stiff from when you saw him at the club, and he was in a striped top and jeans.

“hi, it’s nice to meet you,” his voice is warm but fake. he extends a hand out to you, and your need to remain professional cues you to take it with grace. his grip on your hand was rough and tight, sending shocks of anxiety up your hand and into your lungs.

“likewise.”

the sight of juyeon looking like he just got out of bed and thrown on some barely presentable clothes tugs you back in time, and you remember watching him change into less shabby clothes for school.

this strange feeling is filling your lungs like pneumonia, and you didn’t like it.

you notice kevin’s flitting eyes between the two of you and something inside tells you he was going to sit you down and interrogate you about this awkward encounter with the guest.

but he smiles and reaches over to pat juyeon on his shoulder.

“anyway, the makeup artists and the stylists are in that room,” kevin gently pushes juyeon into the respective direction after juyeon releases your hand. “we have a little trouble with the equipment now so we might start late.”

“oh, that’s fine,” juyeon is disappearing into the room, the view of his polite smile igniting a small flame of confusion in your stomach.

the night at the strip club becomes a silent movie in your head, but the words you remember spitting in his face about him not doing anything related to his education rings in your ears like an mocking alarm.

juyeon never denied it nor confirmed it, so you just assumed he wasn’t.

choreographers design and create sequences and performances that most of the time, they don’t perform themselves.

this was why he said he couldn’t perform in his day job.

“take as much time as you need, we’ll need more time to set up the studio!” kevin calls behind him to the stylists and makeup artists as he exits the dressing room, strolling towards you.

your attention resumes to the equipment and you start dismantling the defective studio lights, carefully placing them into the large bags as someone else brings over a new set.

“are we having this conversation now or later?” kevin queries with wide, curious eyes.

“we’re not having this conversation ever,” you lift the tripod bag and hand it to one of the production crew members.

“we’ll do it after he leaves. you’re not going anywhere without telling me what that was.”

kevin shoots you the kind of look that you’d gladly slap off his face, and you would, but you wouldn’t want to make a scene in front of your guest.

the interviewer runs you through the questions, but your attention refused to sit itself down and absorb the words running off her tongue.

all you could think of how being in the same room as juyeon was so antagonising.

his scent was wafting about in the air like waffles to a child; his smile stuck itself in the retinal memory like someone pasted a sticker into your eyes -- god, those eyes.

the same eyes he used to look at you when he caught you half-naked in bed with sangyeon.

something must’ve crushed your spirit and it is a reminder that you’re not the best at hiding your emotions when the interview abruptly stops.

“y/n,” she is looking at you like you were sick, and that wasn’t very far from the truth. “are you okay? you’re zoning out and you look a little pale.”

the low volume of commotion trailing from the dressing room forces you to realise your forehead was between your fingers, like you were having a migraine. it takes you awhile to process her question, but you sit back upright and suck in a deep breath, forcing a smile out at the interviewer.

“i’m alright. sorry, i just... thinking about something else unimportant. go on.”

whoever thought creating mankind with the capacity to feel so much love and pain for one person should’ve been banished from all eternity, for all eternity.

the kinaesthetic memory of his touch on your chin when he first kissed you in the rain drives waves of nauseating nostalgia through you.

the flutters in your stomach because he loved to pull you closer by your waist when you stood too far away from him in a queue or on an escalator; they were always too difficult to ignore.

when he hummed melodies in your ear when you couldn’t sleep or when you cried from the stress you had to swallow in school.

but you threw all that away when you lost to your need for affection and love; when juyeon chose work over you.

the guest exits the dressing room in the horrid, familiar costume he had on at the stripper club. under the studio lighting, it is more striking on his skin. the lights made him look whiter than snow and the shadows cast under his jaw and ears and face by his hair sharpens his every feature.

some of the production crew were already feasting their eyes on juyeon, and you couldn’t blame them, not when he was a physically fine man on his own.

juyeon notices your eyes widening when you process his costume for the interview and the first part of the filming portion, so he deliberately rubs his left collar bone, exposing the skin on his upper chest and lower neck with the intention of driving you into a corner in your own head.

kevin watches on with slight entertainment, but also a pinch of concern when he is able to see how much discomfort you were in. there was a look of pain and loss in your eyes which he doesn’t recognise, which he has not seen before.

usually his editor was professionally emotional, but right now, you were zoning out. you were letting the guest, someone whom you’ve obviously had some kind of history with, puppeteer your heart around in your chest like it didn’t belong to you.

kevin grabs your attention by resting his warm palm on your shoulder, nodding his head backwards to where the camera monitor was. he was holding a DSLR in his free hand, and you could tell from his eyes that he was trying to understand you just by reading your face.

how you wished you paid attention to the interviewer when she was running through the questions with you.

she was about seven questions in when she popped that fateful query. you couldn’t decide if it was the way she asked the question with such genuine curiosity or if it was the way juyeon froze slightly that made you panic.

“tell us more about your time in the most prestigious performing arts academy in the country? we heard you sacrificed a great deal of things to... reach your maximum potential. of course, same rule applies: if you’re uncomfortable, you’re very welcome to sound out to us.”

the monitor loses your attention because your eyes were now focused on juyeon straight. in the camera’s view, he was sitting on the left with his right profile angled towards the interviewer, and the monitor was just about a few feet from the interviewer.

so it is absolutely shattering when he looks dead straight at you, though he was under the beams of the studio lights and you were sitting in the dark behind the monitor.

please say you’re uncomfortable, please say you’re uncomfortable, please say you’re uncomfortable, please say you’re uncomfortable, please say you’re uncomfortable, please say you’re uncomfor--

“it was a very fulfilling four years, even for me. and yeah, you’re right, i did lose and sacrifice many things when i was a student there.”

kevin steals a quick glance at you after he lowers his camera, noticing that juyeon was also taking fleeting looks at you past the interviewer when he is answering.

“i lost time that should’ve been spent with my famlly, and right now i’m trying to make up for the time i lost with them then. i also lost friends i made in the institution i was in prior to enrolling in the academy, and...”

oh, god.

please... don’t.

“i lost someone i loved very much.”

there was an awkward, almost murderous silence in the air. the interviewer was taking a side-glance at kevin who had the camera angled at juyeon, and juyeon had this contorted, sad smile plastered on his face as he said that last line.

“is this a family member or a partner?”

juyeon looks up through his gelled hair and glances at you, the purple box he was sitting on making you feel like ripping your hair off your scalp and shoving it down your own throat.

“a partner.”

a hesitant pause.

juyeon seems to be contemplating with himself if he should continue, and he loses the battle to himself.

“she was my everything, then i made a mistake by taking her for granted and choosing my work over her. the day i lost her was the day i realised that i was terrible at time management, that i needed to learn how to prioritise the things i needed in life.”

another pause.

kevin looks at you, but your eyes were beginning to glisten with a layer of tears. tears of hurt, sadness, loss, grief, maybe even anger, you weren’t sure anymore.

was he just saying this now because you were in the room?

“i didn’t know i needed her until i lost her, and i lost her to another man. it was the biggest mistake then, and it’ll probably be the biggest mistake i’ll ever make.”

slightly stunned at the sudden emotional confession caught on film, she turns to kevin, who gestures for a time out.

“right, thank you for your honesty, mr lee. we’ll be taking a short break here and we’ll have you back here in five, is that alright?”

your feet shove the chair backwards, and you turn away from the monitor, hands flying up to your eyes and gently dabbing away the tears threatening to fall.

“yes, five,” you hear juyeon respond, but your feet bring you to the equipment room and the automatic light flickers on when you step in, the heavy door shutting loudly behind you.

the ghost staring back at you in one of the dry cabinets used to store the cameras begins to fish out all your emotions one by one, and you struggle to contain it.

he’s a liar and he does not prioritise you.

he is only saying this because you are in the room.

he does not love you anymore.

the door clicks open, and you immediately look up upon the realisation that kevin’s voice was ringing somewhere far away from the equipment room.

you wouldn’t consider juyeon as threatening or intimidating, but you were scared of him. not because of his anger or hurt, but because he was capable of leaving scars on you in places that nobody else has ever been able to before.

your soul, your heart, your belief in love.

juyeon watches you back away with every step he takes towards you, the fluorescent light stuck on the ceiling making his eyes look darker in the shadows of his hair on his face.

your hand flies up into the air unconsciously, and your palm is opened to him. it was trembling like you were out in the snow without a coat, and the tears return to your eyes as the sour in your nose gets harder to ignore.

“stop.”

it sounds more like a plead than a command, because of how shaky and terribly heartbreaking it was.

“please, don’t come any closer.”

something cracks in juyeon, and the sight alone breaks you further.

“y/n--”

“no, don’t--”

“i just--”

“please, just stop talki--”

one large step was enough for him to reach you, and he completely disregards the palm you have in the air between you when he presses his lips into yours.

the impact jerks your tears over your lids and more dribble out when you shut your eyes instinctively, tasting the familiar sweetness on your tongue when he willingly parts his lips.

your cheeks were cupped in his warm hands, and your hands were balled into fists against his chest.

the automatic light flickers off when there was a lack of movement, and the darkness only fuels this intoxicating moment.

it was a still, long kiss, but your heart felt like it was being thrashed about in a cage.

it feels like someone was driving the tip of a shoe into your muscles, stepping and shoving clenched fists into your bones and cracking them into pieces like twigs.

his fingers were digging into the hair behind your ear as you feel yourself involuntarily melting into his hands, then this feeling of missing him overwhelms you like you were drowning in sorrow.

juyeon pulls away, eyes frantically searching yours for any sign of hatred or anger or any loaded emotions.

but seeing him look at you with immeasurable amounts of detriment only reminds you of the second he realised you spent the night with another man.

guilt fills you like someone stuffed a pipe down your throat and your tears collect in the corners of your eyes when you manage to find the strength to writhe out of his hold.

“y/n--”

“no,” you shake your head and snap yourself away from him, backing yourself to the door so you could run.

run like you have for the last five years, because of mistakes you both made and neither of you refused to admit -- no, admitted but cannot forgive each other for.

“i still love you, and i don’t want to break you again... so please don’t break me anymore, juyeon.”

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

to be continued

#juyeon angst #juyeon #lee juyeon #the boyz #the boyz fanfic #juyeon fanfic #the boyz juyeon #the boyz angst #timetohajima #well fuck

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dwaynepride · 4 years

Text

baby, it’s cold outside

summary: a snowstorm would put a damper on most people’s vacations. but you, pride, and gibbs find a way to make the most of it.

words: 9,122

warnings: smut, PWP, female reader, light cumplay, slight OOC

tags: @stanathanxoox @pageofultron @fairytale07 @jrenn10 @f4nboi @purplestarsr5 @ladyzombiielove @littlemiss3ma @minikate--24-05 @consultingdoctorwholock @6adb0y @thegoodlonelydalek @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy @ms-allenbrown @ikbenplant @dylpickles1267 @diaryofafan17 @specialagentlokitty @starryrevelations @thebeckyjolene

author’s note: it’s finally here!! thank you all for your patience and support while i finished this monster of a fic, and i really hope it lives up to the hype

Red and orange flames, small as they were, flickered from the charred remains of the fire that Gibbs had started upon arrival. And you were sitting as close to the fireplace as you could, without the risk of going up in flames. The heat it provided was a necessity to the frigid cold in the rest of the cabin.

Even the cup of coffee gripped in your hands, which had once been a lifesaver, was starting to lose its heat.

It was difficult to believe that, just last week, you and Pride were excited for this vacation. Coming up to Virginia for a weekend of solitude in the woods. Three old friends enjoying each other’s company; reflecting on old times and taking the much needed time away from the stress of work. It’s been much too long since the three of you have had actual time together.

That was before a snowstorm rolled in the night before. Froze up half the state.

You set the coffee mug aside, blowing into your numb fingers. Just as you were starting to mentally complain about the lack of a good fire, the door to Jethro’s cabin was kicked open. He and Dwayne stumble inside, snow clinging to their clothes, arms full of wood. The wind is loud and bitterly cold and blows in a fresh icy breeze before Pride kicks the door shut behind him, and both men drop their loads by the door.

Though, you were keenly aware that the firewood they’d collected wouldn’t last long. Not with how cold it is. “That’s all you got?” You ask them, eyeing the logs before looking to Gibbs.

“Snow started coming sooner than we thought. We’ll just have to make it last,” he answers simply while toeing off his soaked boots.

“Will it be enough?”

“Hopefully.”

Hopefully?

You huff at his answer, but your attention wavers away from Gibbs picking out the driest logs of the bunch to look at Pride, who had plopped down next to you by the fire. He scoots closer to the last lickings of the flames, hands reaching out in hopes of warming them up. And it occurs to you that the man has lived in Louisiana his entire life. He’s traded swamps for snow, and the weather must be killing him.

So you move a little closer until your shoulder nudges his. And when Pride glances over, you offer a little smirk. “You okay?”

He lets out a shivery exhale, mimicking your smile. “Cold,” Dwayne answers simply. His shaky voice proves that.

There’s still snowflakes clinging to his hair, which you reach up and brush away before motioning toward the bathroom. “You might wanna change into something drier. You’ll catch your death.”

Dwayne’s reluctant to leave the warmth of the fire, but he knows you’re right. He can feel his clothes sticking to his numb skin, further sapping away his own body heat. So, with another shivering sigh, Pride stands, grabs his bag, and quickly enters the bathroom to change.

You turn back to the flickering flames in the fireplace - happy, at least, that the two men were able to bring back some amount of wood for the duration of the snowstorm. In the silence, you can heard the wind pick up outside. It’ll probably get stronger. The walls of the cabin may creak, and you’ll be wishing you were somewhere much warmer.

A tap on your shoulder brings you out of your thoughts. Glancing up, you meet eyes with Gibbs, who’s handing you a mug. That’s when you show him yours. “I got coffee,” you tell him. And you leave out the fact that it’s lukewarm.

“It’s not coffee.”

He gives no other explanation, only motions the mug closer until curiosity prompts you to take it. The contents are hard to make out in the lowlight, so taking a sip is the only way to find out what it is. The taste of the mystery liquid burns and you didn’t expect just how strong it’ll be; strong enough to make you gag and glance over your shoulder to Gibbs as he chuckles and takes a seat beside you. “What the hell is this?”

“Whiskey,” he answers simply. “Found it in the cupboard. It’ll help keep you warm.”

Gibbs takes a sip from his own mug, and there’s no hint that the strong whiskey affects him in any way. So you scoff. “I got my coffee. And the fire,” you tell him. Though, his eyes don’t leave the orange light. Gibbs simply shrugs, and you end up taking another sip of the whiskey.

Pride comes out of the bathroom moments later, looking much more comfortable in a dry pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. He thanks Gibbs when the Marine hands him a mug and, like you, Pride’s nose wrinkles harshly when he gets a taste of the whiskey. The sight makes you smirk before turning back to the fire.

A comfortable silence settles between the three of you. All huddled around the fire, quietly sipping at the harsh liquor and listening to the groan of the wind outside. It reminds you why you’d been so excited to take this trip; the moment reminds you of old times. Sure, you’re all older now. More worn out. Been through hell and back so many times and it’s left you all scarred. But this was like better times, and the sentiment of it all brings a soft smile to your face.

It takes Pride all but a few seconds to notice, and his eyes narrow curiously. “What’chu smilin’ at?” He asks, voice much more lively than it was just minutes ago.

You shrug at him, both hands clutching the whiskey mug tightly. “Nothing. I’m just glad we’re here. Even if we’re snowed in and facing hypothermia.” you answer, playful eyes glancing over when both men start laughing.

Then the night devolves into nostalgia. Bringing up old cases and old memories that haven’t seen the light of day in years.

Remembering Pride’s first winter in Virginia - when he fell into a snowbank and had a cold for damn near two weeks.

Remembering when Gibbs had a pistol leveled at his crotch by a very angry woman because she didn’t appreciate his little joke about blondes.

Despite the nip in the air, Gibbs was right; the whiskey was warming you right up. Made your face blush to chase away the numbness of your nose. Plus, it made your head light in a way that had the three of you laughing your asses off. Even Gibbs had a dopey grin on his face.

Time passed damn quickly. It was Pride who settled down first; his face squished against his pillows, which thankfully muffled his soft snores. And you follow not long after, sighing once you hit the middle bedroll. Gibbs was the last to go, after throwing in another log so the fire doesn’t go out while you slept.

The three of you had decided to sleep close together, by the fire. Straying too far would mean waking up shivering, and the warm glowing light was too good to leave. Still, even on your bedroll with two grown men sleeping on either side, it’s pretty chilly. You have to pull the blankets up to your chin and curl up into yourself, wondering how you’ll get to sleep when it’s so cold. But eventually, it’s the whiskey that puts you to sleep.

Along with the snores of the men beside you.

The next time you open your eyes, it’s considerably darker.

But that was only the second thing you noticed. The first was the fierce, bone-chilling cold that cut right through your blanket. You wouldn’t have been surprised if the frigid air is what pulled you from your slumber. Instantly, you let out a shaky exhale, breathing into your fingers so they weren’t so numb.

Your warm breath alleviates the numbness for just a moment, but it gives you a chance to focus on the sounds bouncing off the wooden walls of the cabin. Shuffling around and frantic whispers. Whispers that you recognize as belonging to your old friends - Pride and Gibbs were awake, as well. And it sounds like they’ve been for a while; Gibbs’ hushed voice rises a little in frustration, while Pride’s stays low. Shushing him before he can wake you.

Despite the little warmth that the blanket provides, you pull your face away from the shelter. It’s propped up on the pillow, squinting through the darkness toward the hushed whispers. And you quickly find out why Gibbs sounds so frustrated; the fire had gone out during the night. Burned right through the wood he set in there and left faint embers behind.

Gibbs and Pride were trying to cultivate those embers with more wood. Trying to grow a new fire to chase away the cold, but it doesn’t seem like they’re succeeding.

With a huff, Gibbs tosses his old lighter on the floor and glances to your bedroll. Likely to check if you’re still asleep, but he sees your groggy eyes blink at him questioningly. He huffs again. “Yeah, I know it’s cold. We’re getting the fire started up again.”

Pride’s head whips up, blinking to Gibbs before noticing you’re awake. Even in the dark, you can see his hands clenching and unclenching. And it reminds you of your own numbed extremities. “Well, hurry up. I can’t feel my hands,” you respond, sinking back into the warmer shelter of your blanket.

Gibbs just grumbles something, but he remains by the fireplace while Pride returns to his bedroll next to yours. With him much closer, you can see his breath lightly billowing, reflecting the pale moonlight. It was fucking cold. “Hey,” he greets lightly.

“Hey.”

He’s quiet for just a moment, sitting on his bedroll before shrugging his broad shoulders. “Ya know, until the fire’s back up, you outta use my blanket,” Pride says. And just as the sentence ends, he’s tugging the fleece cover from his bed to yours.

It covers your legs, and honestly, the thought of having an extra layer was tempting.

But not tempting enough to fall back asleep to the thought of Dwayne freezing his ass off in a dark cabin. Despite the chill in the air, you sit up and toss his blanket back at him. “No, you need it,” you tell him firmly.

Dwayne tries to give it back. “Oh, I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not stealing your blanket, Dwayne.”

“It ain’t stealing if I’m handing it over.”

“Quit it. We’ll all need our blankets,” Gibbs cuts in. And when the two of you look over, the Marine is moving back to his bed. There’s a small fire going, thankfully. But not enough to give off any real warmth or light. “It’ll still be a little while until the fire’s back up.”

He’s moving back under his covers, seemingly unaffected by the bitter cold, but you can also see his breath. Notice how his nose and cheeks are just a little more pink than usual. And beside you, Dwayne shudders and exhales into his numbed fingers. It prompts an idea - perhaps a little silly, but damn better than freezing all by yourself. “We should share blankets,” you blurt out.

From his bedroll, Gibbs turns his head and squints at you. “What?”

“We’d be warmer. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to try to fall asleep when I’m shivering cold.”

“I agree,” Pride chimes in. Though, judging by the shudder in his voice, he’d be down for just about anything that would provide some warmth. “Sharin’ body heat and all that.”

Gibbs doesn’t reply. You barely make out his expression, with only the faint moon and firelight to see him by. But he must be thinking it over, so you just have to nudge him a bit more. “What? Afraid to share blankets with two of your oldest friends?” You ask him teasingly. Then you glance back to Pride, whose eyes are crinkled with amusement.

The teasing worked, evidently. Gibbs breaks his silence with a cross huff, disbelieving that you got to him too easily. But, he concedes - you do know him pretty damn well.

He pushes his bedroll over until it connects with yours, and Dwayne does the same. And with that, the three of you maneuver the precious blankets until they’re spread out to cover each person. In the end, you’re basically all huddled in a big blanket pile, with Gibbs’ shoulder pressing against your spine and your knees touching Pride’s.

And yeah, at first, it’s a bit awkward. You’re facing Dwayne and the only way to quit the eye contact is to close your eyes and push your face into the pillow. And you’ve gotta be careful how you move, lest you press your ass back against Gibbs.

But despite the awkwardness, you’re already getting much warmer than you would’ve been sleeping alone. With the whiskey still swimming in your system, and the body heat of two grown men, you’re quickly growing groggy and heading back towards sleep. Though, Gibbs mumbles something from behind, low and deep, that makes you smile into the pillow:

“Something tells me you got the sweeter end of this deal.”

The next time you’re pulled from sleep, it’s not cold.

On the contrary, you’re almost hot.

Other than the snores of the two men beside you, the cabin is silent. The storm outside has calmed down, in comparison to earlier. But wind and ice still beat against the windows and makes you thankful for the warm glow of the fire.

But it doesn’t take you long at all to realize that it isn’t the fire that’s making you so damn hot. Yeah, you feel its heat, but it isn’t as all-encompassing as the big, solid body pressing against your back. The muscled arm around your waist keeps you close, and if it hadn’t been for the knowledge that your head is resting against Gibbs’ shoulder, you’d have to concentrate damn hard on which of the men was currently cuddling up to you.

Jethro’s earthy scent was all you could smell, but it was Dwayne’s strong heartbeat that you felt beating against your back.

Somehow, even while laying down, you felt a little lightheaded. Because it doesn’t take long for your body to tell you that this feels damn good.

You think about moving. Shuffling just out of Dwayne’s grasp, but with he and Gibbs so close, would you wake them? Could you even move? While you’re strategizing, Pride’s snores are interrupted by a soft sigh that billows your hair slightly. Then he hums, and his arm moves up from your hip, and the movement makes your head go blank. His hand is dangerously nestled under your chest.

To make matters worse, his body shifts to get more comfortable. It wouldn’t have even been so bad, but his hips roll just a little. Barely even noticeable, but through the intense heat and the blurred lines, you could feel something press against your ass. Half-hard. Trapped in denim.

Some small part of you was mortified. Embarrassed, because this was your close friend and if Pride were awake, he’d be blushing and apologizing as if this were all his fault and then Gibbs would find out, too.

But the deep, hot wave of arousal makes it difficult to care about the embarrassment. C’mon, this was Dwayne Pride. Broad-shouldered agent of The Big Easy. You’d have to be blind not to notice his handsome laugh lines or muscled body and not think about them from time to time over the years of your friendship.

Even still, he was a friend. That’s all he’s ever been.

So, carefully, you pull your legs up closer to your chest. Use your arms to drag your body just a couple inches away from Dwayne. Away from his heat and his body and the little noises he makes every time you move against him.

Away from him, and towards Gibbs.

You hadn’t even noticed how close you were getting to the Marine until he sighed in his sleep. The messy silver hair on his head reflects the orange firelight - turns it amber, but you barely notice because Gibbs smells like whiskey and lumber and it becomes painfully obvious you’re stuck between a handsome rock and a gorgeous hard place.

Gibbs almost pulls you in, as if he has his own gravity. But you’re able to shift back with an unsteady breath. What to do....what to do.....

The sleep and the last lickings of the whiskey has your mind running at a snail’s pace. Unable to just decide on a single course of action that doesn’t involve cuddling up to either Gibbs or Pride. But that option is taken away from you when Dwayne’s breathing starts picking up.

All your moving around must’ve woken him. The arm he has resting on your flank, unfortunately, doesn’t pull away. Only half-awake, evidently, but his hips do that light roll again. The gentle grin of his hips against your ass prompts a moan from Dwayne. Right in your fucking ear and the sound goes right between your legs and you almost can’t stop yourself from rubbing your thighs together because as fucked as this situation is, he sounds so good.

Though, that brief moment of arousal is over quickly. Because from behind, you feel Dwayne’s muscles twitch and tighten up. Hear his breath lodge in his throat, and you know he’s finally woken up enough to realize what’s going on.

Is he in shock? Is he mad that you didn’t do enough to separate the two of you?

The questions linger in your mind until curiosity forces your head to turn. Eyes carefully peering over your shoulder, and they instantly meet Pride’s wide, green, terrified gaze. Blurry with sleep, but still clear with understanding. “I, uh-” he mumbles out, voice hoarse and choked back. “Sorry.”

Simple. Straight-forward. Maybe if he pulls away now, the two of you can wake up in the morning and pretend this never happened.

His arm starts retreating. His body shifts so Dwayne can turn around and try to go back to sleep facing the other side of the cabin.

“Don’t be.”

That makes him freeze. Hand now settled on your hip and unmoving.

The seconds that pass during this time feel like minutes. Dwayne’s eyes blink once at your two surprising words. Confusion was the first emotion that flickered in his gaze before another one followed it. Something darker and hotter and you readily fall into the smoldering look in his eyes because it’s just so damn easy to.

You both are leaning toward each other in a heartbeat. Lips crashing together in a clumsy first kiss but neither of you care because it just feels good. Dwayne lets out a small noise in the back of his throat and you have to stop yourself from gasping against his lips. It’s hot and passionate and needy because your head is swimming in heat and, judging by the light rocks of his hips, Dwayne is damn horny.

His hand squeezes your hip, wanting to move it under the blanket and touch your warm, soft skin - and you want him to. Need to feel the calloused skin of his palm more than you’ve ever needed anything.

So you flipped on your back (carefully, to not wake Gibbs) and tangled your fingers in his hair to pull Dwayne in closer. The change in position is all the permission he needs; his hands all but fumble to push past the thick blanket until he finally just throws it off you to give himself the room.

Your hips arch upward. Legs spread just a little. Pride’s hand reaches the waistband of your jeans, and as he starts to unbuckle it, there’s a brief moment of clarity. Probably brought upon by the noise of Gibbs sighing in his sleep right next to you.

The sound makes you think about what’s to come. About Dwayne tugging your jeans down. Kissing you hard while fucking you with his fingers and making you cum...all while Gibbs is quite literally right there.

And it would have been a reality, if Dwayne were able to get your belt unbuckled.

His soft, frustrated swearing draws your attention away from the sleeping Marine. Dwayne’s attempts at undoing your belt with a single hand aren’t going so well, and despite the need, you find yourself laughing quietly.

He notices. “What the hell kinda belt is this?” Dwayne whispers loudly.

“The normal kind.”

“You sure? I can get the normal kind.”

His raspy, annoyed complaints keep the amused smile plastered on your face. And your fingers lightly comb through his hair. “Want some help?” You offer lowly.

Pride’s head shakes once. “Nah. I got it.”

“I’m not really in the mood for waiting, Dwayne.”

“Trust me, sweetheart, neither am I.”

“Can you two bozos be any louder?”‘

In an instant, Dwayne’s hand stops its attempts at opening your belt. A breath stuck itself in your throat, threatening to completely cut off your breathing but in that moment, you thought that might be preferable to facing Gibbs, like this.

Regardless, your eyes finally flicker sideways. Part of you was terrified of looking up and seeing disgust in the Marine’s gaze. But seeing his bleary eyes and wild bedhead did nothing to calm your nerves. Serves you right for thinking you’d be able to tell how Gibbs is feeling so easily.

Dwayne’s hand is instantly pulled away from your half-open belt, leaning back into his own bedroll as Gibbs slowly brings himself up to lean on his elbows. And you’re frozen there; laying on your back and watching as he looks down and seems to inspect you. The usual icy-blue of his eyes is much darker, despite the golden firelight. Narrowed and unreadable and so, so different than the open door of raw emotion that were Dwayne’s eyes.

Gibbs gives a small tilt of his head before glancing up to his old friend. And to your utter shock, he fucking smirks. The devious, mischievous little smirk that you’ve never trusted before in your life. “Nah, you need some help, King,” is the only thing he says. Voice hoarse and deep with sleep and sends an involuntary shiver down your spine.

You don’t see the perplexed, and defensive, look on Pride’s face.

Instead, your eyes are all focused on Gibbs and the hand that he brings to your belt. There’s ample time to move away or find the words to speak out, but you just stare at his hand. His big, muscled, scarred hand that reaches your belt and has it open in a fraction of the time that Dwayne did.

Beside you, Pride gives a light huff. But you can’t will yourself to look at him. Gibbs and his hand and his eyes are much too captivating, in the moment. They lock onto yours and keep the connection, even as Gibbs pops the button of your jeans, pulls the zipper, and simply lets his fingertips graze the skin below your navel.

In reaction, your hips shift upward. Not so much the raw, visceral arch of your hips that Dwayne elicited, but its enough of a sign that prompts Gibbs to know what you need from him.

He’s merciful. Gibbs pushes his fingers past the waistband of your jeans. Though, your underwear serves as a barrier between you and his fingers. Even still, the friction and the pressure is enough to make you whimper. To instantly clasp Pride’s arm because it’s the closest thing and if you didn’t hold onto something, you’d start grinding against his hand - and you didn’t want to give Gibbs that satisfaction.

But it gets so much harder to keep from keening up once he starts moving his hand up and down, even curling his fingers just a little. Teasing you. Making you want him and if that bastard knows how to do anything, it’s how to get under people’s skin.

Your fingernails dig into Pride’s arm when you finally whimper out Jethro’s name.

The small sound has Gibbs leaning in a little closer. Arousal flickers in his eyes, brighter than even the orange flames in the fireplace because it’s so raw and real and for you. “Are you sure?” Gibbs prompts lowly, his voice rough. “Seems like you wanted King just a minute ago.” At that, his eyes move up to his friend.

Pride had been motionless, admittedly frozen and not quite knowing what he should do. His cock is still hard and pressing against the zipper of his jeans; that much hasn’t changed. In fact, seeing you so desperate has only turned him on that much more.

But Gibbs and his words surprised him. He’s torn - there’s nothing he’d rather do than climb over you and continue where you’d left off. But if you decided you’d rather fuck Gibbs, then Dwayne will just have to accept that. He’s not sure how, but he’ll get over it.

Pride leans away, almost as if he’s trying to pull himself out of the picture. But the hand you have gripping his arm tightens to keep him from straying too far.

“Both. Both of you.”

You’re looking at him, now. Eyes half-open and hazy. Chest panting and hair all astray and looking damn gorgeous.

But even the picture you present doesn’t stop both men from looking shocked. They both were expecting you to choose one or the other, but both? A third option had never crossed their minds.

Had the circumstances been different, they might’ve thought a bit more logically about this. But neither man was so keen to ignore your breathy pleas. Pride was panting, too. And Gibbs felt that familiar stirring in the pit of his stomach that only got worse when your hips started moving in tandem with his fingers.

So even if Gibbs is the one with his hand down your pants, Pride is the first to truly act.

He’s leaning back in, resuming the hot kisses. But this time, you’re so much more hot and needy and wound up, you’re moaning into his mouth. Opening your lips to taste more of Dwayne while your thighs squeeze together, hoping to just selfishly ride Gibbs’ hand.

He has to pry your legs apart to pull his hand free

Your body instantly reacts to the loss of his touch, huffing into Dwayne’s mouth and wishing you could break the kiss to yell at him - even though Gibbs is currently tugging your trousers down your legs and throwing them off somewhere in the darkness of the cabin.

It’s fucking cold, even through the rush of heat that leaves you gasping.

Dwayne’s hand is equally cold when it ventures up your shirt.

But really, it’s the chill of Jethro’s fingers as they trail up your inner thigh that really makes you shiver.

Or maybe it’s not at all the cold that elicits the shiver. Maybe it’s the realization that this isn’t some fucked up dream you’re having. That Gibbs and Pride really are seeing and touching so much of you, and it’s overwhelming. They’re two of your oldest friends, and yet, it was scarily easy to forget all that for a little while and just revel in their attention.

Like when Dwayne finally pushes your shirt up, revealing your belly and breasts that seem to glow like embers in the firelight. His breath is hot against the goosebumps. “You’re damn beautiful, honey,” Dwayne mumbles. It’s the first time he’s spoken in a while, and he sounds absolutely wrecked.

You want to hear more of that crackly voice, but his lips are creating a trail of kisses up your belly, across your sternum and into the valley of your breasts. The sensation is hot and electrifying and you tangle your fingers in his hair to keep him there.

Though, unfortunately for him, Gibbs once again steals the show.

Because this time, he doesn’t tease. Doesn’t make you seek out the pleasure: he readily gives it. Sinks his middle finger in with one fluid motion, and grinds the heel of his hand against you until your nails dig into Dwayne’s scalp with a harsh gasp.

Dwayne makes some kind of noise to the pain - you can feel the vibration, but he keeps on course.

“Dwayne’s right, ya know,” Gibbs comments. And from above, you can clearly see the light smirk playing on his lips. “You do look beautiful - especially right now.”

Cocky bastard.

Your mouth drops open, and you’re intent on telling him just that. But it seems like Pride and Gibbs are somehow working together. As if they know what the other is doing. Because in the same moment that Jethro curls his finger, Dwayne reaches his goal. His mouth is hot and wet, latching onto your nipple and flicking his tongue over the hard bud and the combination of the two makes your head tilt back in a loud, drawn-out moan.

As if Dwayne’s mouth weren’t enough stimulation, Gibbs thinks it’s a good idea to push in a second finger. It’s a tight, delicious stretch; damn near knocks the wind out of you. And as he pumps his fingers slowly, your hips start to writhe, seeking the friction you need to cum because it’s already so damn close.

Pride can hear your hard, panting breath. Can feel it against his hair and under his lips.

And it only gets harder and louder as time passes. Whatever Gibbs is doing, however he’s pleasuring you, must be fucking working. Because just seconds after he pulls off the first breast to pay attention to the second, your moans are so much louder. More desperate and keening and Dwayne can feel your body tighten up beneath him and it all makes him unbearably hard.

Your climax passes, and once your body goes slack, that’s when Pride lifts his head. His eyes are instantly locked on your face; cheeks pink in your exhilaration, hair mussed up and lips parted as you pant hard. And he wants you to lift your head to look at him. Pride wants to see that dazed look in your eye.

But he leaves you to rest. Presses a kiss to your heaving sternum, and then makes a new trail of wet kisses back down your body.

Pride can feel your muscles quiver, but Gibbs can see it.

Especially when he pulls his fingers free, and your body seems to miss them instantly. Your thighs squeeze together and you whimper softly, but Gibbs is far from done.

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

Slowly, your eyes blink open. Jethro is leaning into view, blue eyes blown dark and his own lips are parted and panting because he’s just as turned on as Pride is (if the hurried kisses on your hips and thighs are anything to go by).

Gibbs watches you for a moment. Takes in your tired, but wanting, expression before he finally came in for a kiss. And his kisses are so different than Dwayne’s. Where his were sweet and allowed you to explore him, Jethro simply takes initiative and makes you keep up with him. Though, maybe you can blame his demanding lips on that fact that you just came hard on his fingers - but it’s enough to make your toes curl nonetheless.

His tongue teased your lips open, and just as you’re allowed a taste of him, Gibbs pulls away. His hot breath over your mouth, but before you could initiate another dizzying kiss, his fingers brush over your lips. Purposeful and wet, your mouth instinctively drops open. Gibbs slides them in, pressing down against your tongue, and you taste yourself between two thick fingers.

A moan rose from you, and as your tongue starts swirling between his fingers, his eyes go darker. His chest inflates in his careful breath to keep control.

You want to push him further. Make him lose control the way he did to you. But the feeling of two large hands pushing apart your thighs breaks the spell. In the time it takes for Jethro to pull his fingers free, slick in your saliva, those hands are replaced with two broad shoulders. Keeping your thighs apart while Dwayne gets himself comfortable, and the sensation of him there makes you gasp.

Your body is still receptive from the treatment of Jethro’s fingers; buzzing and sensitive and it only heightened the heat of Pride’s kisses across your inner thighs. It’s a light flutter against your skin, and you’re not positive if it’s his lips or the cold cabin air that gives you such vicious goosebumps. Maybe a little bit of both.

Either way, you know you’d just about die if Dwayne holds off on touching you.

Breaking your gaze from Gibbs, you look down to the man knelt between your knees - eyes turning a dark mossy green in the firelight, and it reflects off his messy hair. The contrast of light makes the sharp angles of his face pop.

The sight of Dwayne looking so raw, you can’t help but stare for a moment. But only a moment, because as soon as he pushes in two long fingers, your head tilts back again. Moaning out in the dark cabin and unwittingly giving Gibbs the perfect opportunity to suck a hickey into your neck.

Fuck it, let him. You’re much more interested in how Pride’s fingers are slowly pumping in and out.

Pleased with your reaction, you’re finally granted his mouth.

“Oh my fucking god, Dwayne,” you cry out, eyes screwed shut tight.

You can’t help it; his tongue is doing some magical things. Enough to make your back arch, toes curl, hips tilt up because the thing you need most in the world is to ride his face into another spectacular climax. Your fingers tangle into Dwayne’s hair, keeping him in place - as if he’d pull away when your noises are this fucking beautiful.

Gibbs doesn’t allow you to fall into the abyss that is Dwayne’s talented tongue. With a new hickey successfully inked into your skin, his lips move up to your ear, breath hot and hard as he whispers, “You the only one who’s gonna have all the fun?”

Your eyes blink open at his question. He should know you don’t have nearly enough brainpower for ask-and-tell. But seeing that familiar cocky look on his face, you figure it’s a question that doesn’t need an answer. Thank God.

Still, you can’t suss out what he meant. So you watch him, confused, until your eyes drop down the length of his body. And there it is; Jethro is using a single hand to undo his belt and jeans. Even from here, in the lowlight of the fire, you can see the hard outline of his cock press against the denim.

Instantly, your mouth waters just a bit. You blame it on the mental image of sucking Jethro off; of him fucking your mouth.

A noise comes up, somewhere between a moan and a whimper and it’s impossible to figure out the cause; Dwayne thrusting his fingers a little harder, or Gibbs coming up to his knees and crawling closer. Either way, you’re not thinking too hard about that. Not thinking too hard about anything other than pushing yourself up to your elbows and leaning towards Gibbs.

Your tongue comes out to wet your lips, and that only makes the Marine give a short chuckle. “Gonna be a good girl? You’ve been doing an awful lot of taking, sweetheart. Not doing a whole lot of giving.” he says in a rough voice.

“Then shut the fuck up and let me give,” you respond. And even to your ears, the words were much more solid and confident than you felt.

In reality, you should’ve sounded shaky and whiny and downright filthy. Because as your hand comes up to rest on his hip, helping Gibbs tug down his jeans, you want nothing more than to suck him off. To find out how he tastes and how he how he sounds.

His pants are tugged low, along with his boxers, until there’s finally enough room for his cock to spring out. Gibbs is hard and veiny and his head shines with smeared pre-cum. His hand wraps around it in a loose fist, strokes it slowly and the head just happens to brush against your lips. The contact - however brief and teasing it is - alights your body in a rush of hot desire that not even Dwayne’s talented tongue can really sate.

And the only real way to be sated is to suck him dry.

With your hand still on his hip, you pull him closer. Your tongue finally peeks out, running up under the head of Jethro’s cock and it makes him hiss in the most delicious way. And despite everything, you can’t help but feel just the smallest inkling of pride at the sound. Makes you wonder just how fucking cocky you’ll get when you make him cum.

That thought is motivation enough to drop your hand from Jethro’s hip, replacing the hand he has stroking his cock to continue the rhythm yourself.

And he’s much thicker than you thought. Hard and heavy in your hand, with a certain softness that prompts you to lean your head in and run your tongue up the length of his cock. Gibbs shivers, and he’s just wound up enough to arch his hips closer and let you work him up.

You’re getting bolder, with all these little reactions from Jethro. Twisting your fist around the head of his cock. Sinking half of him down your throat, just to try and draw out more. To try and turn the stubborn, hard-headed Marine into sawdust-scented putty in your hands.

But Dwayne chooses the worst time to start rubbing the pad of his thumb over your clit.

It’s a firm motion, with his tongue delving ever deeper, and you can’t stop yourself from outright moaning with Jethro’s cock still halfway down your throat. And you’re not too sure if it’s even considered a moan - it’s really only a series of stunted noises and vibrations.

Whatever the hell it was, Gibbs sure seems to have liked it. Pride’s little stunt that almost had you cumming on the spot was equally beneficial for Jethro, who gasped hard and suddenly had his fingers gripping your hair tight. His hips even give a very light rock, but you can tell he was really holding back.

“Your mouth feels good, honey,” Gibbs exhales. His voice is tighter than it was; like he’s fighting hard as hell to keep his control. You don’t see, but his eyes flicker down to Pride. “King, make her moan again.”

God. What a fucking bastard.

Before you can pull off and tell him that, Dwayne obliges. His fingers curl inside you, hitting a certain spot that would’ve been toe-curling alone. But this time, instead of his thumb, his lips are on your clit. Tonguing and even sucking it, and you’d be damned if you didn’t moan louder, this time. Hips angling to try and grind on his tongue, but your movements are awkward when Gibbs grips your hair even tighter.

He pulls his cock out, letting you suck in a lungful of air, before he sinks it deep.

Gibbs continues that pattern, reaping the benefits of Dwayne trying his hardest to get you to cum. He feels every little vibration on his cock, and even when he pulls back, you waste the chance to breathe because you just have to push a loud moan out into the air.

Eventually, the pleasure just builds to a point where even Gibbs can see you’re about to go over the edge.

He does grant the small courtesy of pulling back a bit to where you could breathe through your nose. But when Dwayne’s assault finally breaks you, he’s still in your mouth. Still feels your tongue glide against the head of his cock as you cum. Hard. Crying out and gasping as you ride Pride’s face and the vibrations of your moans still feel fucking heavenly. Gibbs is almost disappointed when you stop, and he only feels your hot panting against his cock. So he pulls it out and leans back against his feet.

The second orgasm really did take a lot out of you. Or maybe it’s because of the attack on two fronts and it’s all just a little much, right now. But your eyes are closed, readily falling into the satisfied afterglow that Dwayne had provided. You want to talk; tell him how fucking good he is with his mouth. But words don’t come easy, right now. Not with his hands stroking your thighs, and Jethro’s fingers lightly moving through your hair. Somehow, the combination of the two feels even better than the orgasm.

The sound of somebody moving, and the warm body heat that follows, prompts your heavy eyes open. Dwayne’s gaze, turned mossy green by the firelight, captures your eyes instantly. You scarcely notice his flushed face, or swollen lips, or messy hair because his eyes are so damn soft.

And then he’s kissing you, making you taste yourself on his tongue. When your teeth brush against his lower lip, Dwayne lets out a noise. Quiet, keening, more desperate than you’d expect from one of the most solid men you know.

Though, once his hips roll against yours and you can feel how hard his cock is straining against his jeans, you start to understand what’s got him so needy.

You hum softly. Wrap a leg over his hip and pull him closer, and the closeness has Dwayne hitching his breath. He pulls back from the kiss, blinking a couple times to see you through the horny haze he’s in.

“Your turn, Dwayne,” you tell him softly. And along with your hand slowly moving down the expanse of his chest, it just makes him shiver.

And he’s much too eager to take his turn. There’s even a light smirk on his face when Dwayne pushes himself up to his knees. After pulling his shirt off over his head, he undoes the button and zipper of his jeans to push them and his boxers down, revealing the deep V of his hips. His cock, sensitive after being locked away for so long, is long and hard. Longer than Jethro’s, and there’s a sudden small urge to derail Dwayne’s plans. To flip him over and give him the same treatment you provided to Gibbs.

But one of his hands grips your hip, the other working over his cock. Slowly, as to not get himself too close to the edge before he’s actually inside you. But as patient a man as Dwayne is, you can tell by the way he pants how much he needed this. Needed you.

So when he positions your hips in the right way, your spine arches to help. Granted, the help with nullified once Dwayne gently pushed the first inch inside - because you made a noise so fucking sweet, he could’ve came on the spot.

He doesn’t, though. It’s that famous self-restraint.

Dwayne does groan and screw his eyes shut when he gives a light thrust, pushing half his cock in. He wants more, but your gasp stills him. His cock is much thicker than his or Jethro’s fingers. It’s a stinging, delicious stretch that makes you grateful you have a leg around his hip; you tug him closer. Nearly all the way in, and that’s finally enough to make him swear.

His fingers will leave raisin-colored marks on your skin, that much is certain. But they still feel good - grounding, because the slow glide of his cock in and out surely would’ve made you forget how to breathe.

You’re more than willing to fall into the sensation of Dwayne, but suddenly, there’s a calloused hand on your cheek. Warm and strong and it prompts your eyes open. Dwayne and his gaping mouth and half-lidded eyes are visible for only a moment before your head is tilted to the side. And fire-lit golden skin is replaced with darkened cobalt eyes.

Jethro says not a word. You feel his breath on your lips, but he’s kissing you earnestly before you could babble out anything. A long moan - shamelessly wanton - rang against his lips because you’re too far gone with pleasure to even think, much less care.

Noses smush together. Tongues dancing and Jethro’s teeth nipped at your bottom lip, just to tease. And along the way, you wonder why the hell he keeps smirking. It doesn’t occur to you that Jethro finds it amusing that you whimper every time Dwayne hits a sweet spot.

Disappointingly, he breaks the kiss. Your eyes blink open, fighting to make out the blue in his eyes in the golden light of the fire. But Gibbs motions his head, silently beckoning your attention back to Dwayne. So you mindlessly follow his order and turn your head back. Your eyes meet Pride’s for just a moment, and it’s him who breaks the contact. Hanging his head to concentrate on keeping the (albeit sloppy) rhythm.

It’s still a fucking beautiful sight.

That’s when Jethro brushes his lips against the shell of your ear, his voice low and breath hot. “You like the way he’s fucking you?” He asks. “Like how it feels?”

Your brain isn’t in the state to be talking right now, so the most you can do is nod.

“You want me to fuck you like that?”

Again, you nod. More desperate, this time, as you keep watching Dwayne. His hips are going faster, harder, keeping less of a rhythm and more just chasing his orgasm.

Jethro pressing a soft kiss against the hinge of your jaw. “Can’t wait to hear you moan like that for me, honey.”

“Fuck!” Dwayne suddenly yelps. It’s loud, and you hadn’t been expecting a noise like that to come from him. And because of it, your attention wavers away from Jethro whispers things in your ear. Focus instead on Dwayne; his hips giving a few more sharp thrusts before he pulls out. His hand is instantly wrapped around his cock, pumping until streams of his cum shoot across your belly. Dwayne is breathing heavy with his eyes squeezed shut, moaning deep in the back of his throat until the orgasm passes. And his hand slows, languidly stroking his cock until he just stops altogether.

You hadn’t even noticed you were staring until Dwayne raises his head. Locks eyes with you and offers a small, shy smile. He’s still catching his breath, and the exertion makes his movements slow and wobbly. But after casting a brief glance to Gibbs, Dwayne moves away from between your legs. Collapses back on his bedroll next to you with a contented sigh.

“You really made a mess of things, King,” Jethro comments, moving to take his spot between your thighs. And a trail of goosebumps follow his hands when he moves them across your skin - you’re not yet so numb as to not feel the heat of his palms.

Dwayne lets out a small, almost disinterested hum. That’s when you shift slightly; throwing a smile up to Jethro as he uses his grip on your thighs to pull you closer. “I don’t mind the mess,” you tell him. Voice all hoarse and rough and the sound of it is enough to attract Dwayne’s attention. Make him just a little less groggy.

Jethro just huffed before his attention dropped between your legs. And you take advantage of the small moment of peace by looking sideways to Dwayne. He’s watching you, eyes heavy but bright with his half-smile - that post-orgasm affection. The tips of his fingers gently run over the skin of your arm. A feather-light touch that would’ve tickled, had you not been so fucked out.

The hitch of your breath didn’t come from Dwayne’s soft caress. It wasn’t anything so innocent; the blunt head of Jethro’s cock was the culprit, pushing through and stretching you back out with little warning.

The hitch became a gasp when Jethro gave an experimental thrust of his hips. Testing just how well you take him and gauging his speed. But by now, you were so wet and fucked open, it really didn’t take him much time to bottom out. Fingers tightly gripping your thighs, it didn’t matter to him that he was going second. Jethro’s sharp breath showcased his pleasure.

“God- fuck...”

So he did swear.

The air pushed from your lungs with each slow, deep thrust he took. And when Jethro found a quick rhythm, it didn’t help. He pushed your thighs up, knees apart, making ample room for himself to drive in over and over. And he knew he wouldn’t last too long; the memory of your hot mouth on his cock was still too fresh. But he was going to make you cum for a third time before he was done.

Past the blind pleasure and the weight of Jethro slamming against yours, there’s a pair of lips on your cheek. The soft fingers that had been stroking your arm now resting against your ribs, hand blossomed out like an orchid in bloom.

“You doin’ okay?” A low voice murmured in your ear. His nose nuzzled lightly against your temple; soft and affectionate.

Immediately, you turn your head to face him. And in that moment, you never needed Dwayne more than you did right now. Jethro was hitting all the best spots, but somehow, you needed more. “Dwayne,” you manage to whimper his name. Unable to say much more and praying he understood.

He’s known you for such a long time. Of course he caught on.

The way he kissed you wasn’t as rough and desperate as all the others have been. And in a way, that made it so much more intense. Dwayne’s tongue ran along your bottom lip, taking his time, letting you taste him and allowing himself to breathe you in. His hand stroked over your abdomen, further spreading his cum into your skin but not giving a damn about it.

And when Dwayne breaks the kiss to move down, his mouth once again latching onto your tits, your fingers instantly move to run through his hair.

Maybe because Jethro was getting rougher in his thrusts. Forcing you to climb up toward your third orgasm with him, and you just needed something to hang onto. Dwayne was the closest thing.

Case in point, when Gibbs slightly changed his position. His cock hammered in differently - better - and you cried out. Fingers tugging hard on Dwayne’s hair and making the poor man yelp into your soft skin. His head instinctively pulls away and, despite the pain, he’s wearing a sly smirk.

“S-sorry,” you manage weakly.

“Nah, you pull as hard you want,” Dwayne replies. And the soft, yet wrecked, sound of his voice is enough to give you goosebumps.

And with his mouth coming back to sucking hickeys into your skin, you’re well aware how fucking close you are to cumming again. Release so painfully near; a literal breath away. And from the look of Jethro, he’s in a similar state.

His thrusts have grown sloppy, large hands branding your thighs with fingerprint bruises; gripping them so hard to give himself leverage. Jaw dropped to catch his breath because you can tell the Marine is exerting a massive amount of self-control to keep himself from cumming. But even Leroy Jethro Gibbs has his limits, and it would be cruel to ask him to hold off much longer.

You angle your hips up just a little. “Jethro,” you call softly. His eyes rise to meet yours; hazy and dark in his pleasure. “Need you. Please. Please- fuck...make me cum again.” You’re not above pleading. Putting that extra edge in your voice to wind him up a bit more.

He swears; low and deep in his chest. Nearly sounding like a growl as one of his hands leaves your thigh, dropping in between your legs. And once Jethro quickly starts rubbing hard, tight circles around your clit, that’s when he starts falling over the edge. It’s not really his fault; you tightened up around him and cried out into the dark cabin and Jethro noticed how your fingers once again curled into Dwayne’s hair.

His body acts on its own - giving one, two more desperate thrusts before pulling out. The hand he used to help you cum instantly wraps around his cock, and Jethro even lets out a tight groan as his cum hits the inside of your thighs. It trickled down your leg slowly as he came down from his high, leaning back to sit on his feet. And yeah, he selfishly enjoys the image you lay out for him; panting and fucked out, painted with cum.

While Gibbs recuperated, Dwayne is actually the first to move. His eyes drag themselves away from you, glancing around the fire-lit cabin to find the shirt he’d so desperately tossed away. And when he spots the familiar fabric, he uses it to wipe away the mess he left behind on your belly.

Dwayne handed the shirt to Jethro, and he does the same with your thighs.

You listen as both men finally settle in on their respective bedrolls; their breathing still heavy, but slowly evening out. That’s when your eyes open, blinking up at the ceiling of Jethro’s cabin. The firelight flickers against the old wood; a strangely serene image. So starkly different from the images of hazy eyes and eager lips.

With things slowing down, it would be so easy to just close your eyes again. Your body feels weightless and it’s warm and you could so effortlessly fall asleep.

But Dwayne speaks up, cutting through the sound of crackling wood and howling wind. “Hey, Jethro?”

There’s a slight hesitance from Gibbs. “....Yeah?”

“I reckon we outta come out here more often.”

Maybe it’s you. All those endorphins still flew around in your head. Or maybe what Dwayne said was legitimately funny. But you burst out laughing, and Dwayne followed shortly after. And through it all, you even hear Jethro’s deep chuckles.

Your laughs had devolved into light giggles by the time Gibbs is pulling a blanket over you. It’s hard to tell whose blanket it is, actually, but it doesn’t really matter. It’s warm and comes with a soft caress over your hair from Jethro as you turn away from him.

Dwayne’s shoulder does make a damn fine pillow. And just in case it gets cold in the night again, the press of Jethro’s body against your back will assure you won’t freeze.

#ncis x reader #ncis new orleans x reader #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #dwayne pride x reader #ncis nola x reader #ncis reader insert

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emerald-amidst-gold · 3 years

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A Dragon’s Hope

Here’s a little fanfic that I wrote awhile back! I decided to go back and tweak a few parts as well as correct a few mistakes that I missed. This is just kind of an analytical piece on Fane that kind of delves into his interactions with Solas and how he sees the world of Thedas. Obviously, there are headcanons here, as well as creative liberties, but I hope anyone who reads this enjoys! I know I did say that Solas and Fane don’t really show affection for each other through physical actions that much, but sometimes they do. Especially when it’s late/near end game time. It’s still extremely rare and reserved though. Fane just likes to talk to big. He’s literally a puppy dragon. Anywhoooo..enjoy!

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“That..dragon is quite attached to you, Inquisitor.”

The Inquisitor’s party was traveling back from the Emprise du Lion after successfully culling another wave of dragonlings and two mature dragons. The fact that there had been two mothers had made the grief for Fane all the more painful when he was forced to kill both within minutes of each other. There had been a third, but..well, his mind was not in the most stable of states after the first two, so the third female would have to wait for another day. Always another day, another tragedy, another loss. However, despite the fragile state of his decaying mind, something surprising and amazing had been found when he and Solas had investigated the nests of both dragons. And that something was what was currently perched on his shoulder, snowy white tail draped over his shoulders as its serpentine head flitted left and right as it took in the surroundings. Fane watched with fondness as Solas reached up with his knuckles to allow the small dragon to nuzzle against them before he glanced over at Cassandra, hearing her hesitant statement.

“He’s practically a newborn, Seeker. Baby dragons generally attach themselves to whatever they see upon hatching. For all intents and purposes, I’m literally his mother.”, Fane stated bluntly, barely flinching as the energetic newborn whipped around to his other shoulder to inspect the other side.

Cassandra recoiled a bit as the dragon leaned in to investigate her. The display made the corner of Fane’s mouth quirk up into a shadow of a smirk. For all of her taciturn will, the Seeker was surprisingly easy to startle. Though, he supposed he understood why. After all, it wasn’t every day one came face to face with a dragon, even if the little one on his shoulders was no more ferocious than a kitten.

“I understand that, Inquisitor, but..why is it so..lively?”, Cassandra fumbled for the right words as she hesitantly stretched a finger out to the emerald eyed dragon.

The baby dragon cooed happily, infant scales bristling with a soft shudder as it shook its body from a cool gust of wind. The Seeker yelped slightly before turning away in embarrassment. Fane let out a quiet chuckle as he easily guided his young kin back to the other side.

“What? Is it that strange for a child to be energetic and curious? He’s just investigating, Seeker. He’s never seen people like us before. Over time, I’m sure he’ll become more reclusive and aloof, but for now, he’s like a small puppy in his actions.”, Fane explained without much thought, feeling the little dragon happily nuzzle at his pale cheek with a purr.

Fane naturally nuzzled back with a small smile before catching Solas gazing at him fondly, blue eyes sparkling with quiet happiness. As the white baby dragon continued to nuzzle his cheek, a snowy eyebrow rose in question. There was that look of deep affection again. The look that Solas generally kept locked away unless the two of them were alone. Fane had to wonder what was so endearing to warrant a crack in Solas’s normally reserved mask.

“What’s that look for, old man?”, Fane inquired with a fond tone, sighing in slight exasperation as the snowy dragon burrowed into the cowl of his jacket to investigate the material.

Solas chuckled at the sight before shaking his head softly, reaching up once more to tap the small dragon’s long tail. Upon the touch, the newborn snapped up to attention, its small head darting back and forth for the source before its emerald gaze landed on Solas’s smiling face. It let out a happy, squeaky roar as it hopped over to the mage’s shoulders. Solas blinked in surprise before letting out a breathy laugh, tilting his head to the side as the dragon attempted to get more comfortable on its new perch. The elven mage stroked the small head with the back of a finger, the little creature bristling pleasantly. Fane felt his whole chest blossom with gentle warmth as he watched the whole display. Normally, he wasn’t one to wax words such as ‘cute’ or ‘adorable’, but right now, those were the only words he could use to describe such a sight.

“Well, aren’t you a friendly dragon, little one? My shoulders cannot be better than your original perch, but that is your opinion, I suppose.”, Solas almost cooed at the small dragon, his blue eyes sparkling with nostalgia and warmth.

Fane smirked softly at the sight of his kin and his lover. This was what it was meant to be like. Dragons and other beings coexisting without fear of the other. Respect was what mattered for dragons. If you respected a dragon’s inherent nature, it would open its wings to you. However, if you feared its nature or were willfully blind to it, you risked its ire. It had happened that way for Solas and Fane. Solas had surprised the then dragon with his openness and understanding. And in turn, Fane had surprised the then young elven god with his loyalty and dedication. It had been the start of a deep bond. A bond that was now tempered with trauma and loss, but ultimately love and acceptance. He hoped his newborn kin would be free from the insanity that plagued Fane and the rest of their kind. However, he knew that it was an inevitable fate. For the time being, that was. He would fix it. He would atone. He would not allow more of his kind to suffer from a lack of action on his part.

“Never again. I will not turn away from those two toned eyes anymore.”, Fane thought with resolve, continuing to take in the sight of two very important things in his life.

Fane continued to watch with uncommon fondness as the small dragon tried to stretch out its silvery wings, squeaking with effort. Solas looked up at him with a tender expression before motioning his head a bit towards the small creature. A snowy eyebrow raised in question before he saw Solas begin to mouth his words.

“Why don’t you assist him?”, Solas mouthed softly, motioning to the struggling dragon once again.

Fane blinked in understanding before sighing softly. Well, what was the harm? It was just a simple matter, right? With a soft smile, Fane made a sound akin to what he would have made if he had the lungs of a dragon still, something between a growl and whistle, to draw the newborn’s attention back to him. The little dragon stopped what it was doing immediately, snowy serpentine head perking up like a meerkat’s before it whipped around for the source. Fane chuckled at the tiny confused noise his kin made before repeating the sound more loudly. He knew it sometimes took a few tries to draw a newborn’s attention, especially with how the world was now. This time, the snowy dragon whipped around to face him with joyful emerald gold eyes, letting out a triumphant screech before kicking off of Solas’s shoulders to return up to his own. He watched with amusement as Solas stumbled slightly from the forceful kick, holding a hand out easily to steady the elven man by placing it on his shoulder. Solas gave him a small, grateful smile before standing up straight once more. Fane smiled back with a small smile of his own before sighing in mild exasperation as the tiny dragonling circled around his shoulders like a pacing dog. Well, he never claimed his kin was patient. Very well.

“Hey, cool it. You need to stretch your wings out, right?”, Fane asked gently, watching as the little dragon’s emerald eyes shone with understanding as its tail flicked in agreement, but squeaked to voice it more soundly, “Thought so. Start by arching your back.”, he instructed with a motion of his finger.

The snowy dragon shifted on his shoulder before bunching up its body, its body resembling how a cat normally arched when it was threatened or scared. Fane chuckled softly as he gingerly tapped the spindly back legs of the little creature to spread him out a bit more.

“There. Now, slowly, and I mean slowly, let your wings spread open. Don’t force them. Just let them move how they’re intended to, and gravity will take its course.”, he continued to instruct, ignoring the look of pure shock from Cassandra as he watched his tiny kin try to listen to his instructions.

Fane felt at ease for the first time in months as he watched the silvery wings of the little dragonling open up to their full width. Seeing his kin flourish as they were meant to, made Fane feel a deep pressure of pride in his chest. Even as children, dragons were splendid creatures. Beauty and power, all in one. The little dragonling screeched in happiness and relief as it succeeded in its efforts, emerald eyes looking down at Fane’s own. Fane smiled the largest smile he’d ever felt form on his face as he nodded at the small thing.

“Well done. Every part of your body, every sound you utter, is a part of what makes you a dragon. You’re nature incarnate. Powerful and dominating, but serene and proud. Never forget that. Never forget what you are. Got it?”, Fane said softly, but firmly, his gaze softening with utter fondness as the little dragon screeched again in proud understanding, “Oh? Is that so? Well, you better keep that promise.”

Fane watched as the snowy dragon hopped around to face Solas with the same proud screech, gingerly moving its wings to show off. Solas merely smiled just as fondly as an elegant hand came up to delicately caress an infant wing. He continued to watch with growing warmth as the little baby screeched and cooed happily at Solas’s soft touches before he felt a light tap to his other shoulder. He glanced back to see the Seeker staring at him with a furrowed brow. He raised one snowy eyebrow in question before realizing he had just done all that with the Seeker present. Ah, shit. He hadn’t even thought about that! Solas was one thing, but the others? Shit. Why did his mind always blank out when he couldn’t afford it to!?

“Yes, Seeker?”, Fane asked, trying to sound as calm as he could.

Cassandra tilted her head to look at the little dragon, who was still fawning over Solas like a happy puppy.

“How did you know to do that?”, Cassandra asked him curiously, pointing to the small dragon’s now gently ebbing wings.

Fane’s mouth hardened into a thin line as he blew out a huff of air through his nose. How the hell was he supposed to explain this? It’s obvious that he had learned this through his own experience as a dragon, and at times, he had instructed others of his white kin to do the same. However, he couldn’t just divulge that information without preparation. The shock would be tremendous on his inner circle. He couldn’t just say, “Oh, didn’t you know? I was a dragon centuries ago.”. It wouldn’t pan out well. Not at all. So, Fane decided to do the next thing he knew; lie. Lie with a tiny pinch of truth mixed in the broth. He blamed Solas for that particular quirk to his nature. The elven mage was adept at twisting the truth just right, so as to placate another person. So, it went without saying that Fane would have eventually picked up the habit simply by observation. Which he had. Several centuries as an overly observant dragon would do that.

“Oh, that?”, he said, jerking his head towards the little dragon before shrugging gently, “Just a guess, honestly. I saw a diagram in one book that outlined dragon anatomy. It showed how dragon wings opened and folded. I figured it was kind of the same concept for newborns.”, Fane lied as well as he could.

Cassandra stared at him hard, completely unconvinced with his story. Fane internally cursed the keenness of this woman. She was too observant! He wasn’t completely lying! Where he got the knowledge, yes. About the book? No. He had actually read a book on dragons! He had read many books, in fact, but that was only because he was eager to learn more about his forgotten heritage. However, the more Fane regained his memories, the more puzzled he would feel when reading those books. Many were surprisingly accurate, but others? Not so much. Fane remembered a time he had actually commanded Solas to burn a book with magic. Obviously, the mage had been confused by his shift in demeanor, since Fane had been contentedly reading, but once the dragon had shown him the book and its..’contents’, Solas had done what he asked without another word. Ugh, the thought of that book still sent shivers down his spine. ‘Natural, primal passions’.. Disgusting. Fane could feel Cassandra continuing to bore holes into his face with her suspicion, shaking his head a bit from his wandering thoughts.

“Think, Fane. Think!”, he pleaded with his mind desperately for another lie.

With a quiet sigh, Fane continued to rack his brain for something more before he heard Solas clear his throat. His gaze glanced back down at the elven god, the little dragon curled up around Solas’s fur lined coat. He blinked softly, not realizing when the little dragon had moved, but smiling fondly at the sight of such comfort. The display of such warm peace in the little creature made Fane’s heart fill with quiet hope, so he couldn’t help but stray from throwing the Seeker off her course for the moment.

“He likes you.”, Fane murmured softly, reaching over to gingerly run a few fingers along whitened scales.

Solas chuckled softly, stroking the little baby with his knuckles once more as the little dragon let out a small yawn. The mage’s hand moved just a bit to let the small creature shift into a more comfortable position before patting its round head gingerly. Fane’s heart nearly burst with affection at the sight.

“He is quite the little ball of energy. Much like someone else I know.”, Solas whispered up at Fane softly, giving the mortal dragon a little smirk before turning his gaze back at the questioning Seeker, “The book the Inquisitor spoke about was one of my own, Seeker. I kept it since I thought it would be helpful against the dragon Corypheus possesses.”, Solas explained calmly, his entire demeanor radiating control, “The Inquisitor asked to read it since he had come to me with questions pertaining to that. Suffice it to say, he developed a bit of an obsession from that point on.”, Solas finished with a calm, small smile, body shifting as the little dragon nuzzled into the fur with a sleepily sigh.

Fane watched as the Seeker stared hard at Solas, brown eyes seemingly searching for an answer to another question in her mind.

“And where did you get such a book in the first place, Solas?”, Cassandra asked, her brow furrowing again.

Fane glanced back down at Solas, the mage giving him a calm look before stormy eyes steadily landed back on the Seeker. He truly did hate how observant Cassandra could be. Then again, Fane supposed that’s what made the human a Seeker.

“The University of Orlais. They do extensive research on dragons, Seeker. I sent a list to them of books I wished to procure, and I had asked for one pertaining to dragons. The one Corypheus possesses is unlike any dragon ever seen or recorded, so I wished to verify its nature. That is all.”, Solas said with that same calm expression.

Cassandra and Solas stared at each other for several more moments before the Seeker sighed in defeat. Fane felt himself visibly relax as he had managed to get off scot free. This is why he loved this man. Well, it wasn’t the only reason he loved Solas, but the mage’s cleverness was on the top of the list. Fane would have to treat the elf to something as a way of saying thanks. Maybe he’ll look into those cakes that the mage liked.. He hummed in thought before shaking his head slightly to dislodge his haze before meeting Cassandra’s wary gaze once again. He furrowed his brows yet again. What now?

“Something else wrong, Seeker?”, he asked with mild exasperation.

“Are you sure it is wise to bring it back to Skyhold? Do we even know how large it will grow to be?”, Cassandra asked, looking past Fane to watch the little dragon sleep with a wary gaze.

Fane’s brow furrowed as he stared at Cassandra. Was she honestly asking this? The dragonling was with them. He was nestled in Solas’s collar. He had travelled this far with them. Wasn’t the answer obvious? And as to the issue of the dragon’s growth..well, he supposed he could be truthful about that tidbit.

“He, not it. They have genders, you know.”, he corrected the Seeker firmly before sighing, “Anyways, he’s young, Seeker. He can do no more damage than a kitten. Obviously, as he grows more bold, we’ll have to find better outlets for instinctual habits, but it’ll be a long time before he grows past the size of a small calf.”, he explained calmly, glancing down on occasion to check on both Solas and the little dragon.

“Will he not grow to be destructive, however? Instinct would surely take its course at a certain age.”, Cassandra asked once more, glancing at the little dragon once again.

Fane’s face deadpanned as he felt familiar irritation rising in his body. Why was that always the thing people associated with this kin? Dragons, when not raging with madness, were the most controlled beings on this plane! They were reclusive back in the days of Arlathan! They only roamed and ravaged now because they had no other choice! They were terrified of this familiar yet strange world, just as he still was! Except Fane felt more anger and disgust when he looked upon the colorless portions of land. The abandoned ruins. The burnt fields. The leveled mountains. All of it was disgusting and corrupted. It was broken, wrong, bound! It was not what his kin were used to! Not what this little one was supposed to be brought into! He would do anything to usher in their world once again! Anything! He would kill anyone and anything! He would ravage crops and buildings! He would sunder the very heavens with a piercing roar! He would-!

Fane closed his eyes with a heavy sigh as he realized his mind was bordering on the edge of darkness.

“Look at me. I constantly say dragons are not savage creatures, and yet, I am voicing thoughts that scream such a trait. I cannot let this madness consume me. Not until I free them. I must endure. I must..”, he thought firmly, taking another steadying breath as he felt a cool hand come up to casually brush some snow from his shoulder.

Fane reopened his eyes to look down at Solas, who was gently retracting his hand to give him a small, sad smile before being nudged rather roughly by the sleeping dragonling. Solas let out a quiet grunt before chuckling warmly.

“Hm. He is still quite active, even when asleep. Such interesting creatures, dragons are.”, Solas mused with fondness, carefully fluffing up some fur for the sleeping dragon.

Fane felt his mind clear at the sight of such warmth as he let out a tender chuckle. He couldn’t lose himself. Not when there was still a sliver of hope along the horizon. Normally, Fane would not even entertain the concepts of fate, destiny, and hope, but Solas..constantly reaffirmed that those ideas existed even amidst tragedy and death. He truly would not be able to continue without his wolf. That was the hard truth. However, he would never have to learn what it was like to be without Solas. Not if he had any say in it. Which he did. He would stand firm before any foe that dared to harm him or Solas. There was no doubt about that. They would come out of this bloody, yes, but still alive. Always alive, always whole. They would save their respective people, even if the world despised them. Even if people painted Solas as a betrayer and monster. Even if people painted him as a savage and madman. They would both endure. For however long it would take. Fane wanted more moments like these. Where his kin and Solas’s could coexist without fear or madness. This was what he continued to fight for. As Fane continued to watch the two beings, he couldn’t help but feel calm and at ease despite all the pointed questions.

“We don’t have anything to worry about, Seeker. Dragons are not savages by nature. They are calm, controlled, and proud. It is their insanity that corrupts them from their natural order. How would you feel if you awoke in a world that was so different, yet so familiar? Where your entire race was nearly extinct?”, he asked without much thought, unable to hold in these emotions any longer as he continued to watch the small resting dragon, “Would you be able to sit by as confusion and fear consumed you? Would you accept that this was how the world was even as your heart cried out that it was wrong? Would you not wish to destroy it in its unfamiliarity, hoping it would smash the facade and potentially bring what you knew back?”, he continued, catching sight of Solas’s warning, but masked sorrowful expression, “This world is not the world of dragons. It is a prison to them. And I will not sit by and watch as they continuously suffer because of ignorance. This dragonling is the last of m- his specific breed, and I will not allow this corrupted world to infect him. Not when he has a chance. A chance that the others of his kin were barred from because of a lack of action.”, Fane finished quietly, but with determination.

Fane could feel Solas burning holes into the side of his face as the mortal dragon glanced down with apologetic grimace. He blew it, didn’t he? He hadn’t meant to go off like that, but the sight of his kin so at peace and happy struck a nerve within his draconic soul. Fane couldn’t continue to act as someone else while his people suffered right before his eyes! He understood that he had to reign it in until the right moment, but when would it be right? Every day, every month, more and more of his kin appear, and they were increasingly more insane than the last. It was heart wrenching and excruciating to watch! Maybe he should just come clean! Explain it all! These creatures claimed to be his ‘friends’, so they should understand! They should-! Another touch to his shoulder had Fane freezing for a moment until he realized that it was Solas touching him, glancing down warily to be met with concerned, but stern stormy eyes. Solas’s face was etched into a stone mask as he stared up at him. Fane let out a heavy sigh. He knew what that look was. Right. Relax. Don’t jump to conclusions. Another moment went by before Fane’s pointed ears twitched at yet another heavy sigh from the Seeker, turning his gaze back to her immediately with bated breath.

“Very well. You are the Inquisitor, and you have the authority to keep whatever you wish, if you believe it to be for the best. You do not have to wax philosophies to sway me.”, Cassandra finished with a small smile, “I will admit, he is rather endearing.”, reaching over tentatively to lightly touch a single scale before recoiling at the little creature growling in protest.

Fane blinked in surprise before running a hand through his snowy hair, letting out a breathy laugh as he gazed up into the never ending sky. That was too close. Solas would definitely give him an earful later on, but what mattered now was that nothing had exploded in his face for once. Relief was a wonderful, wonderful feeling.

“Fuck my ass and every other hole that I own, I nearly blew it.”, Fane muttered in elvish as he rubbed at his face slowly.

Solas let out a shocked sputter at his words, his stone mask falling away with indignance. Fane let his hand fall from his face before raising a snowy eyebrow at the shocked elf in a questioning fashion. What? Did he say something wrong? Solas knew for a fact that he didn’t have the most pure mouth, so him swearing wasn’t surprising, and yet, the mage looked mortified, or was it flustered? Fane could never tell, honestly.

“What’s your issue?”, Fane asked, genuinely puzzled by the expression on Solas’s face.

“Did you honestly have to phrase such a thing like that? You have a verbose vocabulary, vhenan! Must you squander it all the time?!”, Solas exclaimed with a faint blush dusting his cheeks, the little dragon around his neck only budging with a little sigh.

Ohhh, so that’s what had the elf in such a tizzy? His lewd phrase? Of course it was. Fane wouldn’t call his lover a prude, but Solas tended to get downright modest about some of the things he would spew. Especially when the dragon would use elvish. It either seemed to strike a discordant cord in the mage or a pleasant one, depending on the day. And today, it seemed it was a mixture of both. Ohh, this would be fun for him! Fane snorted before smirking slightly, glancing down at the indignant elf with sparkling emerald eyes, the flecks of gold within them blazing amber with mirth.

“How else would you like me to say it? Should I phrase it like, “Fuck the Dread Wolf’s ass until he howls”? Because I think that one sounds just as good.”, he said slowly and deeply, his smirk growing.

Solas’s eyes widened more before his glare sharpened to a razor sharp blue edge. Fane only smirked more as he watched the mage’s face steadily turn pink. Ohhh, how he loved getting the god riled up. It was entertaining to ruffle his cool exterior. The two merely stared holes into each other before pointed ears twitched at the sound of Cassandra clearing her throat, both he and Solas glancing over at the human woman.

“If you two are finished, we should make haste to the camp to prepare for the journey back. I will..attempt to explain, through letter, how we have recruited a dragon.”, Cassandra said with a heavy sigh before marching ahead of the two elves.

Fane hummed absently. Poor human. He wondered when she would realize the little one wasn’t the first dragon she had recruited. Then again, he had just panicked with the thought of his identity being revealed. Maybe it was for the best that they all kept believing he was an elf. At least for now. Fane watched the Seeker hurry down the bridge with a bored expression before grunting in surprise as he felt Solas yank him down by his collar to glare into his shimmering emerald eyes. Oh, well, it looked as if someone was unhappy. Guess that was his fault, huh?

“‘Fuck the Dread Wolf’s ass until he howls’? Honestly, Fane? Honestly?”, Solas growled out, tugging on the collar of his jacket at each word.

Fane snorted with a smirk as he saw the faint blush that colored the mage’s pale cheeks, the color dusting the tips of his pointed ears as well. This was incredibly entertaining, and he wasn’t going to lie, a bit arousing. He was still trying to get used to that concept of desire and want, but the warmth in his body was pleasant enough that he didn’t feel too uneasy by it anymore.

“Hey now, watch the language. The little one will hear you.”, Fane said innocently, jerking his chin towards the sleeping dragonling.

Solas let out another quiet, frustrated growl before letting Fane go. He watched as the mage took a deep breath to calm himself before reaching up to cup Fane’s pale cheeks, leaning up to gaze into emerald pools. Fane blinked softly before his gaze softened considerably, the teasing smirk disappearing from his face to be replaced by a neutral, but warm expression. He could tell when Solas was asking him to be serious, and the look of tender concern and stern disapproval on the mage’s face had him shifting into that tone easily. He knew what was really going on.

“You need to be more conscious of what you say, vhenan. At least until this is over. I do not want any harm to befall you before we are ready to face it.”, Solas murmured to him softly, the mage tilting his head a bit to nudge Fane’s cheek, “Guilt would eat away at me, even more than it already does, if something happened to you. So, please, reign it in. I know it pains you to continue to have to do this, but it is what you must do, just as I have to continue down the bloody path that I walk upon. It will have an end, my dragon. It will, but you must be patient and self aware. Do not let the blackness consume your nature as well.”, Solas pleaded with him in a hushed voice, continuing to delicately nudge his cheek.

Fane sighed deeply before managing a tiny nod. He knew Solas was right. He knew that the mage’s little outburst there wasn’t just because of his crude words. Solas had warned him time and again to be more careful with what he revealed. He hadn’t meant to ramble like he did, but the words had just poured out along with his emotions. He was finding it harder and harder to keep silent as the more dragons cropped up, and the more ignorance that spilled from the other’s mouths. Even so, he would not jeopardize him or Solas with badly controlled emotions. There was a time and a place for such words, and that was when they were alone with each other. Fane rested his own gloved hands over Solas’s cool ones that were tenderly holding his face, his emerald eyes narrowing in a gaze of fondness.

“I know. I know..”, he said quietly before nudging back at Solas’s own cheek, nearly connecting their lips.

Solas stilled his head with a firm grasp before carefully slotting their lips together. Fane froze for a moment before relaxing with a quiet sigh through his nose, tilting his head carefully to deepen their kiss. This aspect of their relationship was still new to Fane. Never once had he ever felt such love and desire course through his being, so as a dragon, he had never sought out physical contact with others. Even as an elf, Fane had never desired physical gratification. It wasn’t until he and Solas finally shared their first kiss that that spark had ignited within his core. Especially with how the two kissed. Their kisses were slow and careful, ebbing with affection and receding with tenderness. They were not rushed, or hurried. They were patient and soul deep, just as the two’s bond was. It was eternal and never ending. They had no need to rush when time stretched out before them like a vast desert, sand awaiting for them to mold it with their hands. Fane gingerly removed Solas’s hands from his face as he pressed in deeper, pinning the elf’s hands to his chest softly. Solas let out a soft hum as he allowed Fane to take the lead, matching his movements with ease. It was almost uncanny how the two of them seemed to mold to each other as if they had done this a thousand times before. Perhaps it was the bond, or Fane’s vow at work, but either way, they were practically one whole being that thought and moved in time with the other. Fane let his hands move from Solas’s, confident the man would leave them on his chest before he grasped the mage’s jaw tenderly, tilting his head back to lightly nip at his lips. The sound of approval from Solas had Fane letting out a deep growl as he pulled back a little, opening his emerald eyes just a bit to gaze into hazy blue. He truly could get lost in that stormy, deep sea if he stared too long. Honestly, Fane wouldn’t mind drowning if it led to more of those dazed looks from the elf. Especially when such a look stirred up heat within his core with the desire to claim.

“Open for me.”, he commanded deeply and softly, lightly stroking Solas’s jawline with his thumbs.

Solas’s face deepened in its hue, presumably at his words before the mage chuckled softly, gingerly reaching up to stroke under Fane’s chin with a few fingers. The action made Fane hum around a low growl, something akin to purr, as he pulled Solas even closer to his muscled frame. Oh, the man knew exactly where to touch him. It was almost infuriating, if it didn’t feel so nice.

“Careful, you do not wish to corrupt the young one, do you?”, Solas echoed his words from before, continuing to stroke his fingers back and forth under Fane’s chin.

Fane felt a harsh pull in his lower gut as a deep rumble sounded in his chest, pulling Solas’s face close to nip at the mage’s lips gingerly. Emerald eyes glanced at the peacefully resting dragon before diverting back to the calm blue orbs that he so dearly cherished.

“You honestly have no idea how much I’m trying to hold back right now..”, Fane growled out deeply, gingerly flicking his tongue out to brush against the spot he nipped.

Solas froze for a moment before the mage let out a shuddering sigh, face awash with a deep hue of pink as he seemed to shrink under Fane’s blazing gaze. The sight of such guarded submissiveness had Fane letting out another deep growl.

“I think I may have a good idea.”, Solas murmured out with a small smirk before surging forward to connect their lips once more, still keeping the same languid pace, but putting more force behind it.

Fane grunted in surprise, but ultimately responded easily, removing his hands from Solas’s face to wrap around the mage’s waist tightly. A soft, pleased sound from Solas had Fane responding boldly as he delicately slipped his tongue into the mage’s mouth. He felt Solas’s body freeze in momentary surprise before a gentle shudder ran from his shoulders to his lower back. Fane couldn’t help but smirk a little at that. He knew Solas always endeavored to be in control of any and every situation. It was just how the elf had always been. Back in Arlathan, the man had been a dominating force, hot headed and reckless at times, but Fane had seen past it with keen draconic eyes. Solas had always been but a breadth width away from potentially crumbling with the weight. The elf always took on more than he could handle, even as Fane had stood by his side. Solas had been tirelessly working to free every slave that he could. He had nearly exhausted himself with every spell that would take away the markings that branded a slave. He would return to Fane in the wee hours of the morning looking worn and frustrated as his words once again did not reach any of the other Evanuris. The then dragon had always wanted to ease that burden, but he had been powerless to do more than simply fight. Fane could do nothing about the silent anguish and deafening cries that the elf’s soul would scream out in the dead of night. He could only watch and listen. However, now, as he holds the elf he vowed to centuries ago, Fane realized he could do more. He no longer had to merely lay curled up on a stone floor, watching sorrowfully with golden emerald eyes as the wolf he had chosen to fight for soulfully screamed out his pain, his anguish, his mistake. No, now he could hold him, weather the storm with him, and allow his love to relinquish a measure of his tightly bound control. Fane would happily shoulder any burden, any sorrow, if it meant Solas would be that much more at ease. And the dragon knew, without a doubt, that Solas would do the same for him, without hesitation. So, even if it was something as simple as a mortal gesture, he would do it a thousand times, in a thousand different ways, if it brought Solas the release the man desperately needed. His wolf would never be alone in a muted world again. Never again.

Fane’s brows furrowed with emotion as his thoughts began to intensify his desire, slowly working his tongue around Solas’s with a tad more insistence. A soft moan made his pointed ears twitch in satisfaction as Fane chipped away at the wall that was the mage’s control. He pressed in even deeper, an even louder, choked gasp sounding as he felt Solas literally melt into his arms, practically allowing Fane to claim everything that he had to give. Yes. That was what he wanted Solas to do. Give him everything. Give him his burdens, his love, his control, his pain, his everything. He wanted nothing more than to voice that the mage would never be alone again. Their plans could fail, could come back to slap them in the face, but they would never be alone again. They were kin, even if they were completely different in blood. Fane bore the body of the elven god’s kin, while Solas housed the fiery spirit of his draconic brethren. They were different, but wholly the same.

Fane let out a deep growl as he practically drowned in the kiss, the pace quickening by a degree, but never going beyond what either could handle. One of his hands slowly shifted to the hem of Solas’s tunic once more, the mage twitching at the contact before redoubling his passion.

“To think, I used to shun such actions. Foolish..”, he thought absently as he felt Solas nip at his bottom lip, eliciting a sharp growl from the depths of his chest.

After several more moments of swirling tongues and harsh nips, Solas pulled away from him, his chest heaving with the want for air. Fane pulled back as well, panting just as harshly as his emerald eyes shone with gold, the irises flitting to take in every inch of the mage’s face. The sight of such a lack of control made Fane insistently nuzzle at the elf’s flushed cheek. He was shackled, but not with slavery or duty, but with love, with kindness, with understanding. It was a prison Fane would never mind.

“We will never be apart again. Do you hear me?”, Fane whispered desperately, stopping his nuzzling to look into glassy, but slightly shimmering deep blue eyes.

Solas was still trying to regain his breath as he managed a tiny, warm smile. The elf’s hand came up to cover his blush as he fought to regain his composure before he managed a firm nod.

“Loud and clear, ma vhenan.”, Solas whispered back breathily, his blush slowly beginning to recede as the tiny smile grew into a fonder one, “Even if I wanted to part, my own heart would not allow it. You make me terrifyingly weak.”, he breathed out with a light chuckle.

Fane snorted quietly before rolling his eyes with a small smile. So dramatic, his elf was.

“And you think you don’t make me the same? You have me practically whipped. Disgusting.”, Fane grumbled out teasingly, nuzzling the elf’s now warm cheek.

Solas actually let out a laugh at that. The softness laced in that laugh made Fane’s small smile grow even wider as he relished in the happy sound. Yes. He would do everything and more to continue to elicit those types of reactions.

“Is that so?”, Solas asked, still laughing quietly at Fane’s comment.

“Mm-hm.”, the elven dragon responded as he delicately stroked one of Solas’s cheekbones.

Solas leaned into his touch easily, deep stormy eyes swimming with unguarded happiness. Fane felt his own golden emerald eyes reflected the same emotion as he let out a fond huff. He may have said he was whipped as a joke, but it was the truth. He was irrevocably tied to this elf without any way out. He was devoted to Solas like the humans were devoted to their absent god. Could he be exaggerating a bit? Maybe. However, the fact still remained that he adored this mage with all his heart, impending insanity be damned. Fane felt the urge to close in for another kiss, and gingerly cupped Solas’s face with every intent to do so. Solas let him do whatever he wished without a fuss, closing his eyes softly. Just as Fane was about to connect their lips once more, his vision swam with white scales and curious golden emerald eyes. What..? Oh, for fuck’s sake! Really?!

“Hello, little guy. Thought you were sound asleep.”, Fane said blandly, his own two toned eyes staring blankly at the intrusive little dragonling.

The snowy dragon squeaked happily at being acknowledged, its serpentine head tilting side to side with utter curiosity. Solas, who was once again shaking with the effort to not laugh too loudly, shook his head in amused exasperation.

“Come now, vhenan. Did you truly believe he would not awaken from such boldness?”, Solas said with a teasing glimmer in his deep eyes, reaching up to stroke the tiny dragon’s snowy head, “Do you not agree, little one? Utterly inappropriate for one so young.”, the mage cooed softly to the little dragon, who bristled happily with a soft chirp in agreement.

Fane felt his own metaphorical scales bristle at the chiding and teasing before throwing a hand in the air in exasperation. The elf was the one who encouraged his actions! Those sounds and those shudders..! Ugh!

“Hmph. Says the one who started making such lewd noises.”, Fane bit back with his own teasing sneer, “You’re the bigger corrupting influence. To think, I let you around my only remaining snowy kin. Utterly disgusting.”

Solas shot him a glare from the corner of his eyes, continuing to stroke the dragonling as it began to nestle back into the mage’s furry collar.

“I do not make such sounds.”, Solas defended himself with a faint blush, beginning to walk along the bridge once more.

Fane snorted before starting to follow beside his embarrassed elf, smirking slightly as he watched Solas’s face resort back to that stony mask he used when he was trying to conceal his embarrassment or nervousness.

“I’m pretty sure the entire Fade heard you just then, love. Makes me wonder what other noises you can make.”, he teased relentlessly, smirking more when he saw the twitch in Solas’s eyebrow.

Solas breathed a steadying breath through his nose as he picked up his gait, the little dragon jostling with the movement, but merely huffing sleepily. Fane barked out a single laugh at the increased pace before rolling his eyes in fond exasperation. What an utter fool this man could be. Everyone saw a straightlaced, calm, and calculating elf, but Fane knew what Soals really was. Solas was merely a person with emotions that had been concealed for far too long, had the weight of the world and his people on his shoulders, and undeniably one of the softest men you will ever meet. You just had to crack through his cold exterior to find those qualities. Or in Fane’s case, insistently tease and pester the old elf.

“Oh, come on! Don’t you think it’s nice the Fade is gonna remember you moaning? I know I’ll love the memory.”, Fane continued his teasing, seeing another agitated twitch in the elf’s eyebrow.

He’s getting close. Fane can feel it. Just a bit more. Solas stared pointedly ahead, still not acknowledging his remarks, but his Fane saw minor twitches in the man’s stony mask.

“I can see it now; just you splayed out under me, just begging in that voice. Your face flushed, your chest heaving, sweat just dripping from our bodies. And I would sink my teeth in right-”, he started to say, gingerly swiping his index finger along Solas’s fluttering pulse point, the mage shuddering slightly, “-here. Then you’d really let out a cry.”, he finished around a deep purr.

Solas stopped suddenly, head slowly turning to look up at the smirking dragon before his eyes hardened into a warning glare, but Fane could see the suppressed desire in them. Oh, yeah. Now, he knew Solas was feeling it.

“Vhenan.”, Solas bit out around a clenched jaw before letting out a long sigh and smirking wolfishly.

Fane blinked a few times in surprise. Uh. Shit. He pushed too far, didn’t he? Oh, yeah. He did.

“Uh, yeah?”, he said all so elegantly, emerald eyes darting away and to the mage’s deep blue.

Solas slowly strode up to him, looking up with his chin tilted in a show of control before laying a tender kiss right along Fane’s jawline. He shuddered slightly at the warm feeling that dropped to his gut.

“I do hope you live up to these expectations you are setting. I would hate to see such a proud dragon unable to..perform accordingly. The idea of you begging for me is quite..enticing, however.”, Solas murmured against his skin seductively before quickly pulling away with a serene smile, waving an elegant hand for him to follow, “Come. We should catch up before the Seeker begins to ask more questions.”

Fane stood in complete shock at Solas’s words before bracing himself against the stone bridge’s railing, letting his head droop down as he let out a shaky laugh. His whole body was shaking with want! This was not a feeling he was used to, but oh, how he wanted more of it! He heard Solas’s soft footsteps continue down the smooth bridge as Fane took a few breaths to try to wash most of the heat away before pushing himself off the stone with a grunt.

“This dragon can perform exceptionally well, elf. Where I lack in experience, I have in instinct. I will wreck you.”, he growled out deeply to the air, knowing Solas couldn’t hear him from how far he was down the bridge.

With a pleased smirk, Fane turned and began following after Solas, his long legs making it easy to catch up with the elven mage. When Fane finally came to walk beside him again, the intense wave of desire was mildly tamed as he felt a cool, gentle hand wrap around one of his own. And just like that, he was extinguished. What a power this elf had over him; to easily snuff out uncommon desire to a smoldering ember of affection. Truly, Fane would be shattered with madness without him. Emerald eyes looked down at the softly smiling expression of Solas as the mage kept his gaze forward, blue eyes swirling with many emotions. Fane huffed out a heavy, amused sigh before intertwining their fingers easily, feeling an echo within his chest from long ago as he gazed between the man he loved the little dragon nestled in his fur collar.

“Amidst these golden hues, I vow to you; Wherever you shall go, I shall also. Whenever you require my aid, I will hasten to your side. If you are ever in danger, I will act as your shield, your immovable wall. Through fire, through brimstone, through the corruption that makes this world decay, I will fight for you with unrelenting fury until dark insanity shatters this vow. No harm will come to you. No immutable force shall crush you. No sorrow will be shouldered alone as long as I am by your side to hold it. I am your dragon, Dread Wolf. For now and forever. Not even the passage of time will sever my bond with you. This is my vow to you made amidst golden hues, recognized with emerald pools, and cemented within snow covered flesh. The might of a dragon is yours. As well as its love. May we both coexist and fight together for ages to come.”, he whispered out tenderly, feeling the words of his sacred vow spilling forth from the wells of his soul.

Solas’s expression cracked into an pained, but heartwarming countenance as he heard the words pour from Fane’s lips, responding with a harsh, but tender squeeze to the dragon’s hand. Fane smiled lovingly at that before pulling the mage closer so they could walk even closer side by side, the little dragonling’s tail coming to wrap around the both of them.

Yes. This was how it should and it would be again. They would have their happy ending, even if all before it was tragedy and despair. There was light among darkness. There was hope among despair. There was an end. They were simply the beginning, and the little dragon who was the last of his snowy kin? It was the end. The end Fane’s heart yearned for. His kin would flourish, live, endure. They would endure until the world no longer had a sky they could fly in. However, until that time came, Fane would do all he could to make sure not only his dream, but the dream of his love, came true. No matter the cost, the two of them would find sanity amidst insanity.

For Fane was the dragon of whitened snow with emerald eyes amidst golden vows.

The dragon of the Dread Wolf.

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