#even when she's not the muse anymore............ what the fuck that is the sweetest thing I've ever heard in my LIFE dude
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I am so mad about how desperately into pan I am. he was specifically made to fuck me up. they dangled him in front of me like 'hey would you like to see a sad clown trickster with emotional intimacy issues and a heart of, if not gold, then some mysterious alloy with qualities not at all unlike those of gold at the end of the day?' and I went 'boy would I!' and now I'm lost. I'm on my knees he's like if reyes vidal was actually redeemable instead of just a 'release my man he did do all of that but I don't care' situation
#the way he seems so genuinely *delighted* by grace finding her voice and wants her to be able to make her music again#even when she's not the muse anymore............ what the fuck that is the sweetest thing I've ever heard in my LIFE dude#low-key grace's biggest fan musically at least fhsajkd#stray gods#stray gods pan#(this is not a slam on reyes btw the fact that he's unconscionable is part of the appeal in that specific case lol)#I went into the game mostly blind and from what I had seen I fully intended to romance freddie#and then... this bitch shows up for literally one song and I have to restart the whole thing before I even get to challenging a queen#because I now desire the goat guy carnally and I want to duet with him for the rest of forever thank u#also I don't think I can ever not romance him now seeing the contrast between what he gets up to in the endings#what do you MEAN if you don't romance him he just goes off and no one knows where he is. he's still just so alone??? no not on my watch#(if freddie is dead ( :( ) and you romance him there's an *adorable* part in the epilogue where he tells you hekate has him running around#getting lost relics back in a series of distinctly indiana jones-esque misadventures and it sounds like he's having the time of his life#if this is what it takes for him to actually talk to his family without anyone being complete dicks about it I must solemnly accept#the terrible burden of kissing him on every single run through of this game. it cannot be helped it's out of my hands now)
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scare you away
pairing: steve rogers x reader
summary: steve rogers has always been someone you looked up to. you always ignored your romantic feelings for him because he was much older than you. when he starts ignoring you, you realize you can’t hide your feelings anymore. (requested by anon)
word count: 1.6k
warnings: significant age gap, swearing
You walked into the kitchen, still only barely awake. You were greeted by Steve, who was chopping up an apple for breakfast. “Someone’s tired” he said, smirking as he looked over at you. You just leaned into his side, too tired to hold yourself up.
He chuckled and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. You were so small in comparison to the muscular super soldier. You felt the butterflies appear in your stomach, just like they always did when Steve was around.
It was a stupid crush. He was old enough to be your dad even if you ignored the fact that he was technically over a hundred years old. You knew that he probably thought of you as just a kid.
What you didn’t know about was the huge crush Steve had on you. It made him feel horrible and creepy. You were so young and innocent, and he was an old man lusting over you. He was raised in a time where it was taboo to marry someone that was more than five years younger/older than you, but there he was: in love with a nineteen year old.
“Do you want to spar after breakfast?” He suggested, really only desperate for any excuse to see you. You slowly nodded your head. Your sleepiness was visible to the eye, from your half-open eyes to how you were practically moving in slow motion.
Steve couldn’t help but chuckle and point towards the coffee machine. “I made coffee. It might wake you up” he said, amused as he watched your eyes light up.
You quickly walked over to the cabinet and reached for a coffee mug. You struggled to reach, even on your tiptoes. “Here you go, sweetheart” Steve said, easily grabbing it and handing it to you.
Once the coffee had passed your lips, you felt ready for the day. He handed you a bowl of apple slices. “Is this where you give me a lecture about how important breakfast is?” You teased, gladly accepting the bowl.
A small grin slipped onto his lips. To him, you were the human form of perfection. He loved hearing you giggle or watching you get excited. All of your silly jokes managed to put a smile on the old man’s face.
“I still hate that they made me do those dumb high school videos. They just made me seem like an old man” he said. You loved to tease him about those videos. It was a nice little inside joke that the two of you had.
You both ate together in quiet silence. Once you finished, you jumped down off your stool. “I’ll take care of your dishes” Steve volunteered, already taking them from you. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself.
“Thanks. I’ll go get changed and meet you in the training room?” You suggested. He nodded in agreement, giving you a peck on the top of your head. You froze, shocked by the sudden action. He quickly apologized and bashfully looked down at the ground.
You felt the heat radiating off your cheeks as you walked back to your room.
Steve had always been a mentor to you, and you both were normally pretty affectionate. It wasn’t out of the normal for you two to be cuddling and watching a movie on a Friday night. There were sometimes when things would get a bit too affectionate, whether it was a kiss on the forehead or holding hands.
He always left you with a fluttering feeling and a schoolgirl smile on your face.
You grabbed a sports bra and some leggings out of your dresser and got changed. After throwing your hair into a ponytail, you headed down to the training room. You didn’t normally opt for a sports bra, but all of your athletic tank tops were dirty. So, you threw a light jacket over your sports bra.
You saw Steve through the giant glass windows. He was already lifting some weights. You opened the door, and he looked up to meet your eyes. He greeted you with a small smile.
When he turned around to set down his weights, you took the opportunity to admire his back muscles. You set down your workout bag and unzipped your jacket, throwing it on top of your bag.
Steve turned around to face you, and you saw his eyes go wide. You noticed his eyes roll down your body. Then, he forced himself to look up at your face. “I—ummm. I’m sorry” he mumbled over his words.
His cheeks were on fire as his face became bright red. He didn’t know where to look, so he settled for the floor. He was too ashamed to look into your eyes, but couldn’t stare at your body anymore.
“Actually...I can’t—I mean, I have to go,” his words were rushed and frantic. He didn’t even pick up his bag before quickly jogging out of the door. You were left all alone.
You looked back at where he had just stood, feeling nothing but confusion. You didn’t even know what to think. He hadn’t said much of anything before running out the door.
You slung your bag over your shoulder and went back to your room. You set your stuff back on your bed and heard people talking outside your door. You peeked out the door and saw Steve talking to Tony, Nat, Wanda, and Sam, who were all sitting on the couch.
You kept your door only cracked open, so they couldn’t see you. “Oh come on. Just tell her how you feel. It’s better than running around avoiding her” Natasha told him. Steve put his head in his hands. He had no idea what to do.
“She probably knows anyway. You aren’t exactly the most subtle. You two and your little movie nights” Sam said, chuckling. You wondered if Steve liked you and that’s what they were talking about. “You knew about that?” Steve’s cheeks became an even darker shade of red.
You could hear Wanda and Natasha whispering to each other about how cute you both looked when you were cuddling. You could feel your heart racing.
Did Steve really like you?
“Come on, Cap. How do you feel about her? Do you love her?” Tony asked, aiming for a serious answer.
The room was quiet for a moment. You thought they could hear your heart pounding as it rang in your ears. You stepped into the room, so you could hear better. They all saw you, but didn’t make any gesture so Steve wouldn’t know.
“Of course I’m in love in her. I think about her all the time. How could I not? She's the sweetest person I’ve ever met, and I love being around her. I love how she giggles when she tells jokes, and how she gets flustered when anyone compliments her. But at the end of the day, I am so much older than she is. She’d probably think I’m a creepy old man if she knew how I felt. She definitely doesn’t feel the same way, so what the fuck am I supposed to do?” He asked, running his hand through his blonde hair.
You couldn’t form the words to respond.
“Steve?” your voice sounded weak and vulnerable. He spun around and met your eyes. You saw the panic wash through him. “Oh shit” he mumbled to himself.
You could only think of one thing to say. “Is all of that true?” You asked him, still having a hard time believing. He nodded, but hung his head in shame.
“We’ll give you both a minute” Wanda said, before they all exited the room. You walked closer to Steve, but he still couldn’t look you in the eye. “Look at me” you said, softly.
His big blue eyes met yours, and you could see all of his worry. “So do you think I’m creepy yet?” His voice broke. You let your fingers slip through his, interlacing your hands. His eyes darted to your hands.
“I don’t think you’re creepy. I think you’re kind of cute” you said, bashfully. He tilted his head towards the side, confused by your words.
You watched his eyes glance down at your lips. “Can you just kiss me already?” You practically begged him. He chuckled before slipping his arms around your waist. He leaned in and slowly connected your lips.
He hesitantly pressed his lips against yours. Your grinned as you noticed his nervousness. You slid your tongue against his bottom lip, encouraging him.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, toying with the ends of his hair. You both pulled away as you heard whistling. You looked over your shoulder and saw Sam watching you both.
“Come on, let’s go” Steve said, taking your hand and pulling you towards your room.
Sam wolf whistled again at the both of you. “Ignore him” Steve whispered in your ear, before closing the door behind you.
You laid down on your bed and pulled him down with you. “How about we watch a movie?” You suggested, running your fingers through his hair.
He nodded his head before adjusting himself on the bed. He sat with his back against the headboard, and let you sit in between his legs with your back against his chest.
You ran your fingers up and down his legs beside you as you started the movie. He pressed a kiss to your temple.
“So why did you run out of the training room this morning?” You asked, glancing back at him. He chuckled to himself before answering you. “The sight of you in that sports bra. I felt like a creep ogling at you. I knew I couldn’t stop myself. I didn’t want to freak you out” he told you, scratching the back of your neck.
You felt the heat rush to your cheeks. “I wish you would’ve told me that. I was having a hard time not staring you, Mr. Muscles” you teased, leaning into his touch.
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#Steve Rogers#Steve Rogers x reader#steve rogers fanfiction#Steve Rogers fic#Steve Rogers imagine#steve rogers reader insert#Steve Rogers request#marvel#marvel x reader#marvel fic#marvel request#marvel imagine#marvel fanfiction#marvel reader insert#requested#requested fic#requests open#taglist open#tw age gap#tw swearing
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Hi dear, I was wondering if you could do headcanon about slashers having s/o, who is really insecure, that she is not pretty enough, doubts herself and is afraid that she is not worthy of them.. So basically some comforting fluff? 👉👈
Some of these are kinda nsfw. Mostly just Jesse and Asa’s though.
-Fern🌿
Michael Meyers
Michael was a person who didn’t understand social cues and had no clue how to deal with people and their emotions. But he’s also a stalker who is good at observing people and you’re the love of his life.
He notices the way you look at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes so sad and also so filled with hate at the same time. Your eyes always focus on the same parts of you and it’s like he can almost hear the criticizing thoughts in your head.
Today as you stood in the mirror your hands squeezed your sides, wishing that your waist was small like all those models on TV and magazines. You wish you looked like the girls you noticed Michael always looking at, the kind of girls he always seemed to admire.
You were so busy glaring yourself down you hadn’t even noticed Michael walk up behind you until he was setting his hands on top of yours. His mask was still down over his face, so your eyes met the empty dark holes of it in the mirror. You had only ever seen him without it once before.
Spinning around in his arms, you turned to look up at him, “You’re being extra sneaky today, I didn’t even hear you unlock the door.” He didn’t look down at you, his head still tilted up, watching you in the mirror. The fact he didn’t acknowledge what you said made your heart drop.
That was until his hands left yours and crept up to his mask, slowly removing it. His blue eyes searched yours before tilting your chin up and placing a firm kiss to your lips. Without breaking the kiss he grabbed your hips and picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and carrying you over to the bed.
He planned on showing you just how much he appreciated you and your body.
Bo Sinclair
It was pretty common for Bo to make comments about your body. His sexual comments sometimes made you feel slightly better, like you were desirable. Other times it made you feel like a piece of meat, like all you were good for was a quick fuck.
Bo may be insensitive and he usually never thought twice about what he said, but he was also observant and good at picking up on people’s emotions. He noticed when his comments stopped making you laugh and shove his chest and you began to force a smile that looked more like a grimace. Still, he was Bo, and he figured that if it really mattered you would just tell him to shut his trap.
After some time though he figures it’s best to lay off the vulgar comments and switch on the southern charm. He can sweet talk anyone he wants but he especially loves the power he holds over you whenever he uses that charm against you. You’re so easy to fluster, you melt into him every time he compliments you.
He quickly decides that he enjoys praising you. After all, it seems to make you so needy for him. The fact you seek out his praise just fuels that big ego of his.
Comes up with plenty of pet names. His favorites are definitely darlin’ and pretty girl though. Calling you honey is one of his cheesier favorites. You can expect him to start saying “Honey, I’m home,” whenever he comes home in a good mood. If he doesn’t say it, it’s best to just hand him a beer and let him yell at whoever he decides to be upset with.
If you open up to him about your insecurities he really won’t say much. Bo has never been a big feelings person and he doesn’t know how to do a good job of comforting or relating to people. However, you’ll notice him being extra sweet and affectionate. Just don’t mention it or else he’ll feel the need to be an asshole. He’s gotta keep up hsi reputation after all.
Long story short, Bo isn’t all bad and he can be soft and sweet sometimes.
Vincent Sinclair
Vincent saw you as his muse, his goddess, his reason for living and he made sure to always show you exactly how much you meant to him.
He knew your body better than you ever could. His hands had traced every curve, every dip, every perfect imperfection of you and he could always find something new about you to admire.
Vincent knew the parts of you that he hated, so he always made sure to pay extra attention to those parts of your body just to show you how much he admired everything about you. Everything you thought was the worst part of you would quickly become his favorite.
He’s no stranger to insecurity, he grew up in a small town where people loved to talk and gossip. Talk and gossip isn’t much fun when you’re the kid with only half of a face who wears a mask everywhere he goes because his parents didn’t like to look at him. He would rather die than to ever let you feel that way about yourself.
He still has a favorite part of you though and that’s your eyes. They tell him everything he ever needs to know about what you’re thinking or feeling. He’s seen your eyes show how much you hated your reflection to the amount of love for him that was bottled up within you. Your eyes always gave away what you were thinking, which allowed him to be able to swoop in any time you were troubled.
You quickly become one of his favorite things to draw. He no longe needs a reference for you anymore either, he has your whole body memorized. He couldn’t forget anything about you no matter how hard he tried. Even then, why would he ever want to forget something as beautiful and perfect as you.
Brahms Heelshire
He completely understands feeling insecure. After all he had to hide in the walls and cover his face after the fire. He watched his parents love a doll more than they could ever love him. So he makes sure to tell you how beautiful he thinks you are even if you aren’t a blonde. But he doesn’t understand why you feel like you don’t deserve him.
Brahmsy thinks you’re the best person ever, he wouldn’t have kept you as his nanny if he didn’t think that you were perfect. After all you take care of him and handle everything your strange life throws at you.
He’s seen every part of you while hiding in those walls and there isn’t a single part of you that he isn’t mesmerized by.
There really isn’t ever anyone for you to feel lesser than in the manor. After all, it is just you, Brahms, and Malcolm. However, if anyone ever came along and made you feel inferior or undeserving Brahms wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of them. He can’t have you feeling upset.
He’s touched starved and handsy so he uses each and every single chance you give him to explore your body. There’s nothing he wants more than to touch every part of you. He’s in awe of you and he wants to show you just how much he needs you.
He makes sure to express to you that if either of you weren’t worthy of the other it would be him. After all, he got extra lucky for you to have stumbled into his grasp and there’s no way in hell he’s letting you escape.
Thomas Hewitt
There’s not a moment where he isn’t showing you just how much he loves you. Once he becomes comfortable with you, Thomas is surprisingly affectionate. He is not against PDA and the family never mentions it. After all Luda Mae wants grand babies and Hoyt knows better than to anger Tommy. Besides, Luda Mae thinks that the two of you are absolutely adorable.
Thomas is well aware of how it feels to hate the reflection in the mirror and he hates that you could ever feel that way about yourself. He does his best to show you that he sees you in a completely different light than you see yourself in. To him, you’re the sweetest most beautiful thing to ever walk the earth.
The fact you think you don’t deserve him leaves him feeling flustered. He never expected anyone to love him the way that you do. For you to say you’re not good enough for him blows his mind. He’s a murderer and he doesn’t see how you could ever find him attractive. He. Can’t even speak to tell you how much he adores you but there’s times where he really wishes he could.
Whenever you’re having days where you feel more self critical than usual he puts off his chores to take care of you. Hoyt can bitch all that he wants, Thomas is always going to put you first. Will spend all day in bed with you running his hands over your body and placing gentle kisses against your skin.
Listens to anything you have to say. Although he can’t contribute much to the conversation, Tommy is still a very expressive person. You can see the criticizing look he gives you anytime you say something negative about yourself. He’s not above huffing and rolling his eyes either, grumbling anytime you say something that he doesn’t like.
Billy Loomis
It’s no secret that Billy had plenty of people throwing themselves at him. Sure, he never really paid much attention to them, but that doesn’t change the fact that so many people wanted your boyfriend. So, it was easy for you to begin to think about how easy it would be for Billy to find someone better than you.
As soon as you open up to Billy about these things he’s quick to shut those thoughts down. After all, Billy rarely ever let’s people get as close to him as you have. In fact, the only other person that comes close is Stu. Billy wouldn’t have opened up to you if he didn’t think that you were permanent and he makes sure that you know that.
Begins to shut down all your self critical comments as well. Before he just thought you were joking, and in a way you still were, but he knew that you thought there was some truth to your words. He’s basically going to force you to be kinder to yourself whether you like it or not.
Billy can be an ass sometimes, he likes to pick fights, and he can be insensitive, but never would he use something he knows your insecure about as leverage against you. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he did.
Lots of heavy petting and make out sessions whenever your having days where you feel more self loathing than usual. You may not like the person in the mirror but he sure as hell does. He’s gonna make sure you know just how much he loves you and how much he loves your body as well.
Stu Macher
Simply cannot allow you to think that you are anything but the hottest and coolest person on the planet.
Before, it was pretty common for Stu to flirt with the girls at his parties, sometime he could even get kinda handsy. However, as soon as he finds out that you’re doubting yourself, he cuts it out quick. No one could be better than you and he feels bad that he even allowed you to think he could ever be interested in anyone else but you.
He enjoyed showing off but once he finds out your insecure he begins to flaunt the fact you’re his. Points out how many people wish could be him whenever he’s showing you off. He believes that if you see how many people want you but can’t have you, you’ll start to feel more confident.
Stu has always been very affectionate, which includes being physically affectionate. Don’t think that he would ever shy away from PDA either. You point out someone staring at him, jealous of you? Great, he’ll make sure to make out with you right in front of them to prove he’s off the market. Won’t hesitate to feel you up in front of people either cause he’s definitely a perverted little shit.
Lots of cuddling and compliments from him. Also enjoys spoiling you to show you just how much he loves you. Shopping sprees to find clothes you feel confident in become very common.
Jesse Cromeans
For you to not feel good enough for him insinuates the idea he has bad taste, and Jesse does not have bad taste. He will go to any length to prove that to you as well.
His favorite pet name for you is princess because to him you might as well be royalty. He wants you to know that your a treasure to him. Expect to be spoiled with the finest clothes, expensive jewelry, you’ll be living lavishly once your Jesse’s. He sees himself as your protector and provider, prides himself in that fact, so obviously you deserve nothing but the best there is.
Jesse understands what it’s like to be insecure, especially after what Gem did to his face, so he’s quick to shut down any negative comments. He knows how to say all the right things as well so you can expect plenty of messages from him that make you absolutely melt. This man can charm anyone, but he mainly focuses that charm on you.
Likes to dress you up in expensive lingerie and tell you how pretty you are before absolutely wrecking you. Jesse will make sure to praise you the entire time.
Feeling insecure about what his employees think of you? He’ll make you sit on his lap during his meetings just to show you off. If you’re blushing like crazy it just makes him feel more justified in caressing your body while his employees can do nothing but stare at the pretty little thing in his lap. Although, if they stare for to long they’ll no longer be an employee or alive.
Would most definitely fuck you in front of a mirror just to show you what he sees. Look at how pretty you are when he’s absolutely wrecking you, how could he not be in awe of you.
Asa Emory
Do you really think that you would be the most prized part of his collection if you weren’t the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on. You’re his favorite pet, he keeps you in his home, in his bed, you don’t get to feel unworthy. Although, the fact you feel like you don’t deserve him would fuel his god complex.
If you’re having a hard time with your insecurities his rough touch will turn into gentle caressing. It’s a rare occasion so make sure to savor the moment.
He notices when you’re feeling upset. Asa knows that being away from you so much gives your mind more time to run rampant. So whenever he’s been away longer than normal he makes sure to indulge you a little bit, even if he is busy. Expect him to let you sit in his lap while he works on grading papers and assignments that he’s gotten behind on. Occasionally he’ll rub your back as you snuggle against his chest. He’s allowed to be soft sometimes to.
Admires everything about your body and he makes sure you know it. Gently caresses and kisses every part of you, especially the parts you’re insecure about.
Much like Jesse, mirror sex is 100% on the table. Asa would love nothing more than for you to see just how beautifully you fall apart because of his touch. He knows your body better than you do and never fails to get exactly the reaction he wants from you.
Domestic Asa Domestic Asa Domestic Asa. If you’re having an extra hard time with your insecurities he would definitely make you breakfast in bed. For just one day you’ll be allowed to call the shots. Or at least you’ll believe you’re the one calling the shots.
#slasher x reader#slasher x you#slashers#slasher hcs#michael myers x reader#bo sinclair x reader#vincent sinclair x reader#thomas hewitt x reader#brahms heelsire x reader#brahms x reader#the boy x reader#leatherface x reader#thomas x reader#billy loomis x reader#stu macher x reader#ghostface x reader#chromeskull x reader#jesse cromeans x reader#asa emory x reader#the collector x reader#tcm the beginning#scream#house of wax#thomas hewitt#michael myers#bo sinclair#the boy 2016#the collected#the collection#the collector
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Make it back to me - Andy Barber smut
The one where Andy fulfills his promise and gives you a future together.
Warnings: smut, daddy kink, insecure!Andy for a minute there, divorce, talks of infidelity because reader was the other woman, breeding kink
A/N: this is technically a follow-up to this drabble I wrote during kinktober!
Andy’s P.O.V.
My heart was pounding against my chest even before her beautiful face appeared from the office’s door. It was clear that she was confused, but I was too excited about it to even be able to verbalize what had happened and what we were about to do. So the plan was to just show her.
“You know, I usually like surprises, but this one is freaking me out,” she commented, and I laughed, throwing a glance at the rearview mirror before taking us out of the firm’s parking lot. I rubbed my thumbs on her knees, squeezing it in a hopefully reassuring gesture while I hummed a random song that had been stuck in my head since earlier.
I still couldn’t believe it.
I thought that maybe she would have connected the dots when I parked in an apartment complex’s garage, but by the inquisitive look she threw me, it was clear that wasn’t the case at all. So I laughed when I held her hand, kissing the back of it before pulling her along with me, up the stairs to the front hall.
“Andy, are you crazy? We can’t be holding hands in public like this. What if someone from the firm lives here and sees us together?” She whisper-shouted, and an euphoric feeling took over my chest at the realization of just how incredible my life was.
“Someone from the firm does live here,” I conceded, hugging her from behind and leaning down to fit my chin on her shoulder. “Me.” Saying it out loud only made it feel even more real, especially since she whipped her head to try to get a look at me, in an effort to understand just what I meant.
“What?” I only laughed, reaching out for her hand again and giving it a squeeze when the elevator doors opened, immediately stepping out to look for the door I held the key to. “Andy, what do you mean?”
I only smiled, patiently opening the door before letting her walk in and following behind. “Sweetheart… Meet my new apartment.” Once more, her head whipped around to stare at me, interrupting her visual exploration of the new environment.
“Andy…”
“I’m divorced,” I interrupted, effectively shutting her up. “It was finalized this morning. I talked to Laurel the day after that party. The day you got your promotion. I didn’t tell you before because I wanted it to be a sure thing,” I immediately explained when I saw her open her mouth to interject, but then she closed it, nodding as she accepted my justification.
“So while I waited for it to be processed, I bought this place. Do you like it? I was hoping you’d move in with me, I can’t wait to christen every room of this apartment.” Once again, she seemed surprised by my words, stopping her evaluation of the living room to stare at me with eyes twice their usual size.
“But you just… Andy, you just got divorced. Quite literally. You can’t tell me you want to immediately jump into the routine of a relationship again.” Frowning, I stepped forward, in her direction, arms reaching out to hold her hips so I could keep her in place while I tried to understand her emotions.
“You don’t want to be in a relationship with me?” My heart ached at the prospect, but she only huffed, rolling her eyes at me. Immediately, I felt somewhat comforted, although still confused about what was going on through her head.
“Of course I want to be in a relationship with you, you dummy. I just… I fear you’re jumpin too soon into this, and that you’ll grow to resent me. I don’t want to lose you.” Hearing her voice my own fears only made the need to have her closer rise within me, so before I could even realize what I was doing, I had her face cradled between my hands and our lips were connected again, as they always should be.
“And I don’t want to lose you,” I decided to voice it, so she could understand exactly where all of this was coming from, how it wasn’t simply a spur-of-the-moment gesture, any of it. “So what do you think I should do? Keep our relationship without strings, fearing that any moment now someone else will come and sweep you off of your feet? I don’t want to fuck anyone else, sweetheart. And I’ve been dreaming about living all of this domestic shit with you for a while, now. My marriage with Laurel didn’t end because I suddenly despised my ring, it ended because I didn’t love her anymore. But I love you. And I want this with you. Only you.”
Y/N’s P.O.V.
Now, what else could I possibly say? This was everything I had dreamed about, everything I’d been wishing for since day one, since my eyes connected with Andy’s and we shook hands in the office. And here he was, offering me a future together on a silver platter and I couldn’t find it in myself to fight against it anymore, even if the rational part of me thought this was a mistake.
Or maybe it was only my anxiety speaking, trying to get me to chicken out, to run away, convince me that this isn’t real and I’m not worthy of all of this love. Because the truth was, I was scared. Scratch that, I was downright *terrified. Because somewhere between the stolen kisses and the longing glances, I’d fallen head over heels for the man standing in front of me, who just poured his heart out in search of mine, and I never wanted to lose him.
“Okay,” was all I managed to say, instead, all I could get out. “Okay, let’s do this.” But still, maybe because Andy really was my long-lost soulmate, he seemed to understand. He managed to read between the lines, hear my devotion and my love in those simple words. I knew it because his eyes lit up, and just like that, I was being embraced by those delicious arms again, held like I was the most precious thing he had ever encountered and the only thing he needed to be happy.
He was everything to me.
“I love you, sweetheart.” Everything felt different, every pet name, every touch. It was sweeter, purer. There was no overwhelming pressure of rushing through this, trying to escape the sin, the guilt. This man was mine, now. I could finally relish every single second of this experience.
“I’ve wanted you since we’ve met,” I finally managed to admit it, making sure to look him in the eye so he could see just how serious I was about this. “I’m just so happy we finally get to be together, like… like a real couple.”
His soft smile was the reason for my heart faltering at times, and when he paired it with light brushes over my cheekbone with his thumbs, it was powerful enough to make me weak in the knees. Still, because it was Andy, after all, he couldn’t help but to tease me - I knew I should expect it from the mischief in his eyes.
“So, everything we did before, it doesn’t count?” I huffed at the same time he started laughing, barely seeing me rolling my eyes at his childish behavior since he had tears in his. And despite how much I wanted to be annoyed at him for ruining such a beautiful moment, I could only feel warm inside from seeing him this happy, and being here to share this new beginning of his.
“You know what? No, it doesn’t, daddy. You’re gonna have to get me reacquainted with your cock all over again. Are you up for the challenge?” He laughed out loud at this, beautiful face suddenly looking boyish as his eyes closed for a moment. so that he could fully enjoy his happiness.
Andy’s P.O.V.
“When you look this fuckable? It won’t be a challenge at all, darling.” I watched with perverse pleasure as she shivered from my words, eyes suddenly darkening with lust as she bit her lower lip. “Now c’mon. Let’s start christening this place.”
My first step was the bedroom, of course. I had bought a new bed with the sole intention of ravishing her on it. Sleep was secondary. “Take off your clothes,” I commanded as soon as we were inside the new room, quickly taking off my shirt before sitting on the mattress. “Slowly,” I added when I saw her initially run to obey, but then a small smile painted her beautiful lips as her movements became more fluid.
“Someone wants a show,” she teased, revealing her perfect body little by little, each new inch making the anticipation rise in me. Damn right I wanted a show. But any amount of time I got to spend with her was a spectacle of itself. She was the muse I once believed I would never find. “Like what you see?”
“Fuck yes. Come here.” She approached me slowly too, soft hands I knew too well running over her own body and making me desperate to be the one that was touching her. “I want to worship your body the way that you deserve it, after waiting for me for so long.”
I saw her eyes soften at that, her hands cradling my face when she was close enough to hop on my lap. “I’d wait even longer if I had to.” It made me happier than anything else, knowing that she was as happy with me as I was with her.
So I pulled her to meet my lips again, groaning as I got my taste of her - but it was enough. It would never be enough, especially now that I knew I was hers and hers only. And then she inadvertently started grinding against me and it almost had me falling back against the bed. “God, you’re hot,” I moaned as I watched from under my eyelashes the way that she moved for me and only me.
“I love when you talk dirty.” Her giggles were the sweetest sound I ever heard, and I loved to be the cause for them. But my need for her was so pressing, that I ended up cutting them short by pulling her for another kiss, while adjusting her until she was sitting on one of my thighs.
“That’s nothing, darling. You know just how dirty I can be, and you still haven’t seen everything I got up my sleeve. Come on, move those hips for me,” I directed, helping her ride my thigh by the grip I held on her ass.
“You know what I want to do to you?” I asked, my voice dropping a tone as I whispered in her ear, needing to see her cum for me for the first night that night. “I want to lick all over your skin without the fear of being interrupted,” I started, reminiscing about just how many things I wanted to experience with her now that we were officially together. “Do you know how great it will be now that what we’re doing isn’t improper?”
Y/N almost laughed, but it came out as a gasp as I flexed the muscles underneath her, making my thigh a bit harder for her to rub her sweet cunt against. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, we’ll definitely keep doing some pretty improper stuff…” I forced her to quicken her movements until she was cumming before my eyes, sweet, sweet whimpers falling from her lips as she struggled to catch her breath. “... I just won’t have to feel guilty about them anymore.”
As I turned us over to lay her body on the mattress, our lips dancing together once more, the realization that this was my life now making my head feel light with all the happiness inside of me. This was my bed, this was my woman and it was only just beginning.
Y/N’s P.O.V.
“Well, that’s a relief,” I teased, taking advantage of the little break that he had given my lips as he slowly but surely laid kissed around every inch of my chest. “For a second there, I thought you wouldn’t want to do dirty things to me anymore.”
That earned me a laugh, muffled by the way his lips were pressed against my neck and making me laugh by reflex, since his beard kept tickling me. “Oh, believe me, pretty girl… There’s a lot of dirty stuff I want to do to you. And I won’t lie, some of them are probably still going to happen in my office.”
I tried to swallow back a whimper that made its way to my lips as Andy licked a stripe up my neck, only stopping to nibble on my jaw before admitting to his plans. “After all, I really can’t control myself when you wear those tight skirts to work. But I don’t think they can really be blamed.”
Pink lips wrapped around my nipple and a gasp did escape me, my hands flying to hold Andy’s locks to keep him attached to my chest, but he had other ideas. “I just can’t seem to be able to be near you without desperately wanting you,” he finished, eyes connected to mine and mouth glistening with the saliva he had spread over my breasts. “You’re just too much of a temptation.”
Now, of course, after such a declaration, what can a girl do? I didn’t seem to find the words to vocalize just how I felt about him too, too busy trying to control my heart and clutching his shoulders while he sucked lovebites all over my exposed body. We didn’t really have to worry about them now, even if they would seem terribly unprofessional for some of the senior partners.
“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he urged, and I swallowed dryly before finally voicing, “I want your cock in my mouth, daddy. I want to make you feel good.” Andy audibly groaned at my request, quickly rolling off of me and discarding his pants while I assumed a familiar and very comfortable position between his legs.
My mouth watered at the sight of his already fully hardened member, and I reached out to replace his hand that was slowly jerking it off with mine, leaning down to give the head a small kitten lick just like I knew he liked to be teased.
“Fuck, darling,” he moaned, and I could feel myself growing wetter at the pure power that I felt at having this man so fucking needy for me. When I slowly started to suck on the head of his cock, making my way further down inch by inch, the signs of impatience that became evident in his body only made my desire grow.
“C’mon, pretty girl,” he half begged, half ordered, leg twisting behind me in an effort to control himself. “Take it all on your own, like you always do. Make me proud.” Shit, he knew just what to say to have me quickly gagging on his cock out of my own free will.
I didn’t even think twice before going down on him until my lips met his navel. If anything, the strangled moan he tried to stop, the way his hips instinctively raised up and blocked the air from my lungs, making my eyes water, only served as incentives for me to keep going, up and down, up and down, licking and swirling and sucking until my jaw started to hurt and still, I didn’t want to stop.
Andy’s P.O.V.
It was always a battle between allowing myself to spill in her delicious mouth or perfect pussy, but today, I had other plans - and they involved me having to exercise incredible restraint as I pulled her away from my member by her hair, chuckling at the whine she let out.
“Lay down,” I ordered nodding towards the bed, and she quickly did so, crawling on her hands and knees towards the center of the mattress, but just before she could reach it, I pulled her by her ankle and turned her around myself.
“Can’t wait to fill you, sweetheart.” I was impatient, that much was obvious, but I don’t think she minded by the way her hips thrusted back to meet my fingers as I fucked her open with them, using my thumb to rub her throbbing little clit. “Do you want that?”
She nodded, managing to hold eye contact but not capable of saying anything, her bottom lip held tightly by her teeth as she struggled to swallow the whines I begged to hear. “Beg me for it,” I ordered, picking up the pace and curling my digits until I was able to hit her sweet spot every time I thrusted into her tight channel. “I want to know how badly you want me, I want to see if it even *comes close to my own desire for you.”
A gasp was still all I received as a response, and I had to contain my smile as I slowed down my movements, making them sweeter but deeper. I knew what was holding her back, and it wasn’t the weakness of her desire when contrasted to mine. “It’s alright, darling. You can scream, you can cry out my name as loud as you want. We don’t have to be quiet anymore.”
When her eyes met mine again, I could see that she understood, but it was still hard for her to fully let go. So I picked up the pace of my fingers, leaning over her to suck a bruise on her collarbones before whispering in her ear, “C’mon, pretty girl. I’ve always loved to see you squirming, trying to keep those beautiful sounds in, but right now, I’m dying to hear you moan.”
Her orgasm was what finally made her lose control, cumming while screaming my name, making me grin from ear to ear and keep the pace of my digits until her hand covered my wrist, a silent plea for me to let her calm down. I allowed her that, pulling away from her with a brief kiss on the forehead before turning my attention to myself, curling my fist around my cock that twitched with only that slight stimulation, probably because of the debauched scene before me.
It didn’t take long for her small hand to cover mine, forcing myself to jerk the throbbing member as a sign that she was ready for more, now. And so I pulled her even closer, forcing her legs to open wider before I rubbed the head of my cock between her lower lips, gathering some of the moisture there.
“You ready?” Pushing into her for the first time was always incredible. Often, it’d take me back to that long night we’d spent trying to work on a difficult case, when it all became too much for both of us to handle and I gave into temptation, bending her over my desk before burying myself inside of her.
The way she gasped so prettily at the feeling of my cock stretching her open was still the same, and it mirrored the way I groaned at how her tight walls squeezed me as I tried to bottom out inside of her. “So fucking tight,” I noted, arms resting on each side of her face as I waited for us both to grow used to the feeling of being connected again.
I kissed her once more before starting to move, losing myself in the taste of her while she messed up my hair, running her fingers through it to hold onto the locks when I did start to fuck her against the mattress. The feeling of her hands traveling further south, until suddenly I felt her nails running down my back, had me jerking abruptly in surprise, the realization that now she could leave marks on my body only leaving me more desperate for her, to make her mine once and for all.
Y/N’s P.O.V.
“Fuck.” The way he gasped against my mouth was so pretty, I wanted to keep hearing it for the rest of my life. “You’re mine now, sweetheart. This is where you’ll spend the rest of your life, right here, getting filled by my cock over and over again.”
It didn’t seem like a bad future to have, especially when he squeezed my hips so tight, trying to control himself so this wouldn’t end so soon. “Fuck, no one can make me feel as good as you do, darling. No one.”
My body felt warm, like a fire had been lit inside, and the only thing that made it simultaneously more controlled and brighter was kissing him, feeling him connected to me, from his forehead to his toes.
I loved this man. God, I loved him, and it felt so good to be able to feel this way, without having any guilt attached to this wonderful feeling. Knowing that he was now mine and only mine, that I could give my whole heart to him without any fear, because he’d given me his.
It felt different this time, regardless of the dozens of times I’d had him inside of me. It was like we were both stripped to our very soul, finally getting to introduce them to each other, and there was a connection, a certain recognition that I just couldn’t put into words - especially not when he was fucking me this good. We just worked. It’s like despite how it all began, we were meant to be.
“Fuck, I love you so much.” And it was that declaration of love that had me clenching around him, reaching the high of desire that only he could show me. It didn’t surprise me that as soon as my orgasm began, he started to lose the rhythm of his thrusts, until he was groaning, “I’m cumming, I’m gonna cum inside of you, just like I promised, pretty girl.”
The reminder seemed to awaken every single nerve end on my body, and I gasped as I felt another orgasm building as his movements grew more frantic. “Don’t you want it? Don’t you want my cum? Say it, sweetheart. Say you want my cum.”
The reality of the situation hit me then, serving as an added stimulation to my already overworked body. He really wanted this. We were really doing this. “Yes, of course I want it. I want your cum, daddy.”
That was it for him. I watched as Andy threw his head back, eyes closed in bliss while his biceps bulged in an effort to keep him from falling on top of me. “Yessss… Make me a dad, Y/N,” he roared, suddenly pushing himself away from me to hold my legs open even wider, fingertips buried on the flesh of my thighs.
I felt his release paint my insides, and our eyes connected just then, acknowledging the weight of the moment between us. His hand reached out to stroke my chin before he carefully rolled us over so I could rest on his chest without him leaving me.
“I can’t believe we get to stay here for as long as we want,” he suddenly spoke, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between us. “No more excuses, no more hiding. Just you and me, and this big and comfortable bed.”
“I can’t believe I get to fall asleep next to you…” I whispered, lightly tracing over his jawline until he turned to meet my eyes, hand holding my wrist tightly to catch my attention - as if it wasn’t already on him.
“I can’t believe you think you’ll be getting any sleep tonight.” And with that fortunate prediction into my future, I knew it would be full of giggles and satisfaction, just as long as I got to have Andy by my side.
#andy barber smut#smut#andy barber#my fics#andy barber reader#andy barber reader insert#andy barber x reader#andy barber x y/n#andy barber x you#andy barber fanfiction#andy barber oneshot#andy barber imagine
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Yandere incubus bakugou please? But the reader is a bad a** nun exorcist?
Heavenly
Incubus!Bakugou x nun!reader
Warnings: yandere themes, religious imagery, dub/noncon, somnophilia, praise kink, incubus bakugo, nsfw.
Wordcount: 2 K
You were new in the field, but nevertheless, the best. You approached your work with certain fierceness that bordered on unprofessional, unethical, given your field.
You were a nun, an exorcist meant to banish creatures like Bakugo Katsuki, unholy, sinful creatures like him.
Ones who bathed in wrong doings, encouraged misbehaviours, got off and energised at the feel of being the cause of someone sinning.
Bakugo watched you, clad in white attire and bright eyes that seemed so honest, so pure, that they seemed almost translucent. Katsuki doesn’t belong in heaven, but he thinks it must look something like your eyes.
A creature like him shouldn’t hover in a place like this. A creature so devilish isn’t welcomed in God’s abode, isn’t worthy of staring at crucifixes, nor worthy of salvation. But most importantly, what right does a wretched being like him have to stare reverently at a blessed being like you.
Though, the both of you have some things in common, he mused. You were so fiery, that some of your elders seemed stiff at the sight of you, though what sort of stiff is ambiguous. You were so ambitious, rising up the ranks so quickly, his good girl.
Fuck, how did he grow so enamored with you? The only reason he can even enter the premises of your church is because he hasn’t come of age yet, hasn’t reached his full potential as an incubus, but a few days from now, he will take his first victim.
He will lay with someone, take them and become the creature of lust that he was meant to be, become the tainted person you preach against. He wishes it could be you, wishes he can take you and break your vows, give you a taste of the sweetness of the apple, get you addicted to the taste of debauchery, wishes he can taste your sweetness.
You had so much restraint, on lonely nights where you rubbed your thighs in need, slick starting to dampen your panties, Katsuki watching in anticipation, wondering whether today will be the day you please yourself painfully unaware of your audience. Leaving him with raging hopes that today will be the day you will be pliant enough to be taken by him but no, no, you just took a deep breath and opted for a cold shower, leaving him with a raging hard on that he had no choice but to stroke to your sleeping form.
You were so fragile too, like glass that he felt protective over, despite how foreign that feeling is to him, yet wanting to shatter you all the same, wanting to cage you with his wings, get you addicted to the delightful feeling he can induce between your thighs while your throat goes raw from moans and screams of his name.
He stalked you religiously, memorised you like the pope memorised the bible, his form which is invisible to you hovered around you like a lost puppy, drinking in all your expressions like ambrosia, his mouth overflowing with saliva at the sweet nectar you kept offering and offering to the point where he’s gotten too addicted to stop.
He glowered at every male that interacts with you, and if the wrong scent emanates from them, something to slightly suggest attraction, you can bet they greet death too early, the cause being a mystery. He enjoys mangling them all night long, only to put them back together and repeat the process. No one stares at his human like she’s theirs, when she's so woefully his. Although she doesn’t know it yet.
But his coming of age ceremony grows closer and closer, and Katsuki won’t be able to enter your premises anymore, his awakening means he also won’t be able to take you for that very ceremony, and perhaps never.
So, Bakugo started thinking smart. Using his influence, he gathered the most intense, the most powerful demons and made them inhibit people from a nearby village. A case severe enough that you’d have to leave in aid of those people. And stay for a few days.
Painfully predictable, you did just that. Donning your outfit and leaving swiftly. Not knowing what dark fate awaits you.
…………
Bakugou stood at the corner of the inn room you are staying in. You were so exhausted, you passed out as soon as you hit the mattress. Now, without the protective walls shielding you from him, your soft body will be all pliant for him. His body shook, the changes to it happening too rapidly. His wings are growing larger, bolder, and aside of the external changes, his scent was becoming more soft, relaxing, his body emitting pheromones that could easily induce lust. His saliva and touch will have a multiplied effect now that he’s reached his peak form. All that’s left now is to make love to a human, to make love to you.
He stepped closer to you, the room looking darker with each step he took, and your form appearing more and more defenceless to the enamored incubus before you.
He slowly took the blanket off you, admiring the slopes of your body in the form fitting night dress that you only adorned in the comfort of your room. He covered your body with his large one, covering you and his heat acting as a blanket, shielding you from the nipping cold. He took your sprawled arms, slowly putting them over your head and holding them in place with one hand while his other lowered the strap on your dress, freeing one breast to caress while his mouth pressed a feather light kiss over your own, so tender it was akin to a lover's touch.
You stirred in your sleep, his touch having the desired effect as you remained in slumber… his sleeping beauty. He kept kissing his way down, like a mad deprived of water for weeks finally getting to quench his thirst.
His wings lowered, shielding you from the moon light as he laved you up in his saliva, exposing your tits only to lay kisses on them before sucking harshly, pulling, tugging until they pebbled up. He squeezed the warm flesh, marvelling at the baby soft skin and its texture in his calloused palm.
Heh, if you were awake, you’d freak out so bad. Katsuki didn’t stop, he continued his journey downwards, kissing over every inch until he reached the heaven between your thighs.
He can smell it, God, he can smell the arousal coating your plain white panties. He moved his apart, movements stilling in the face of your womanhood, suddenly blushing and feeling nervousness enter his stream. He swallowed, pink tongue poking out of his tongue slowly and drawing a path from your slit to your clit. Feeling satisfied at your muscles spasming. He got cocky real quick after that, not even attempting to conceal the raunchy sounds of his mouth wrapping around your clit and eating it as if drinking from a straw.
You were the sweetest delicacy he’d ever tasted, and he’d be damned if he ever lets go of you.
His finger slipped inside you, feeling your walls sucking it in, tightness befitting of a nun. A second finger joined, your walls happily sucking it in and coating his fingers in slick. They moved in and out, thick fingers hitting sensitive spots and stretching you out in preparation for something bigger.
His hips were rutting into the bed, trying to alleviate the ache while his tongue goes for a final taste, the slickened muscle burying itself inside you and moaning. The room was filled with slurping sounds, tiny moans from your sleeping figure and his hips rutting into your mattress; anyone who stood outside your door for a second longer than necessary can tell what’s happening in the nun's room.
He can’t take this anymore. You were here now, pliant for the taking and he was going to take you. He’s going to take you in many many ways.
He freed his manhood, but before he can bury himself in you, he had to do something. He pulled out a shiny object, pulling your hand and slipping it into your finger. Now, the fun can begin.
He lined himself with your begging hole, desperate for something to fill it up after it was so delightfully full, after having its owner deprive it for so long.
With a moan, he quickly bottomed out, eyes watering at the pleasure, having to hold himself back from cumming on the spot as he groaned. Your greedy walls drank him in, welcoming him warmly as if he’s a soldier returning from war, as if hellfire wasn’t hot enough.
He put one of your legs above his shoulder, silently questioning whether he should go at the pace he’s going to, whether he should take you gently the way your body should be taken after years of abstinence. But one clench of your walls and the decision was made for him.
He started pistoning into you mercilessly, his gifted length not sparing you in the slightest. He was so loud too, moaning at the feeling of being one with you, slobbering like a dog as he pounded you, his tip reaching and massaging places you probably didn’t even know existed. Really, with how loud he was, he shouldn’t have been surprised when you woke up.
You squealed, in pleasure or repulsion, trying to push him away, however the pleasurable sheen in your eyes was unmissable to the avatar of lust.
“Ah—who are y-you?! You devil!” You kept stuttering, words breaking as he forcefully pounded the pleasure into you.
“Don’t ask if you already know, princess.” He pumped more pheromones in the air, successfully making you more docile as you gripped his humongous biceps, hands not even close to wrapping around the circumference of it, moaning and clenching around his member.
“Good girl.” He smirked as his statement made you clench even more, so his princess likes being praised.
Your moans were raw and throaty, as if unused to letting out such sinful and suggestive sounds, as if unwilling but painfully desperate to.
“But, if you’re so desperate to know, look at your hand.”
Your eyes glanced up, hazily making out a golden band resting on your ring finger. It had a red amber on it, its colour so red it was darker and bolder then the liquid spilled in a blood oath, it signified something that your foggy brain just couldn’t make out.
“Hmm, already fucked you silly?”
You grumbled something out, a protest too low to be considered a threat. His hand reached out and started rubbing circles on your button, causing an adorable mewl to leave your lips. His thumb kept up the movement until he felt your overly sensitive walls choking his length, gripping him so hard that his fucking falters. You really hadn’t touched yourself in a long time huh.
Some of the spit gathered in his mouth escaped, coating you as his tongue left his mouth lewdly, cheeks flushed an apple red while his eyes watered at the weight of doings. He pounded you so hard after that he reached ecstasy in a minute, not holding the handles on his pleasure any longer, only relishing in the intimate moment as he reached heaven with you. His movements were so passionate, it was as if he was seeking salvation for his very existence in your body.
He pulled out with a grunt, heart panging at the look in your eyes. You stared in horror at the white gushing out of you, so far from pure or holy, it was thick like the sin you allowed yourself to indulge in.
Tears soaked up your face, unable to believe that you of all people got taken by this god forsaken creature, by this tempting creature that symbolizes sin itself. His fingers had the audacity to reach for your face, trying to wipe away the tears he caused. Your hand went to harahly swat his before a red glint caught your eye, your gut sinking at the implication. You swiftly went to remove it, but the harder you tried the more it seemed to cling to your finger.
“What’s this?!” He rolled his eyes at you, before pointing at the ring in your ring finger.
“This-“ his intense, bloody gaze shifted to you”-this will make sure that wherever you go, I will be able to follow you, that we will belong to each other for eternity, because I, the incubus prince Katsuki Bakugou chose you as my mate, and there’s no way out if that.”
#incubus#bakugou x reader#bakugou katsuki#bakugou katsuki imagine#bakugo#katsuki bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugou fanfiction#bakugou katsuki fanfics#bakugou katuski x reader#bnha fanfiction#mha bakugou#yandere bakugou#bnha imagines#tw: noncon#tw dubcon#yandere bakugo x reader#yandere bnha#yandere katsuki#yandere katsuki bakugou
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sensational
Maxwell Lord x F!Reader
Summary: Maxwell is away on a business trip for work, and you’re missing him more than you anticipated.
Word count: 2,2k
Warnings: 18+ smut; guided masturbation, male masturbation, female masturbation, light degradation, edging, orgasm denial, phone sex, long distance after care 🥺
Authors note: I’ve missed writing. So here’s a little something for Maxie cuz I’ve missed him too :( <3
Maxwell had only been gone sixteen hours. He left at 6am, and it was currently: you rolled over to check the time on your bedside alarm clock. 10pm. You frowned, pulling the crushed velveteen blankets up to your chin. He was probably fast asleep now anyway— after the flight and a long day proposing business scheme after business scheme.
You missed him a lot. He promised to call you every morning and every night, so long as he wasn’t swamped at the office. That was his promise and truthfully, you thought you’d be okay. He was only due to be away for a week. You knew a lot of other long-distance couples had it much worse. But being alone in his big suburban house was more isolating than you had ever even considered. It felt empty without him, and it didn’t feel like home anymore.
At least tomorrow you’d get to see Alistair, so that was a plus. You mentally groaned as you remembered how you were going to have to visit Maxwell’s ex-wife in order to pick up his son. She didn’t seem to like you all that too much, and to be honest, you could probably do without the chore of visiting her every Tuesday evening and putting up with her crap. It would be okay though. Alistair was worth it.
Your mind wandered back to your boyfriend. Your smart, handsome and powerful boyfriend with the honey coloured hair and chocolate brown eyes. He was always soft and warm— and a fantastic lover. Not only he was an excellent businessman, but he was also a brilliant father and a wonderful partner. He really was the perfect man for you.
You smiled wickedly to yourself as you remembered last night, and the antics you had both gotten up to before he had to leave in the morning. It was a long, passionate night. Your fingers ghosted over the love bites and bruises that were peppered across your neck and collarbones, and you gasped at the memory, a familiar heat rushing down your body.
If only he was here now… you two could’ve done it all over again.
Your glazed eyes flicked up to the telephone that was on your bedside table. You must’ve been staring at it for a good few minutes, contemplating things. Maxwell had scrawled the number to his hotel room down on a card before he’d left… just in case of an emergency.
You dipped your hand down to your cunt and felt your breathing hitch as you gathered all your slick on your fingers. You hadn’t realised just how wet you’d become.
Just call him. The devil on your shoulder urged. If he was sleeping, you certainly didn’t want to wake him but… surely there was no harm in an innocent goodnight call. At least then, you could hear his warm voice and his articulate words.
Maxwell Lord had you whipped.
Sighing, you took the phone from the hook and dialled his number. He answered on the first two rings.
“Hey honey,” he had a tired lilt to his voice, but just the depth and richness of his tone was enough to set a blaze in your tummy. “I was just about to go to bed,” he continued. “It’s late. Why are you still up?”
Yes, his voice was giving you everything you had desired, and more.
You swallowed thickly, your finger tracing lazy circles over your clit. “Mm couldn’t sleep. Was thinkin’ bout you.” you revealed, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible. If you could get off to his voice alone, without having him notice what you were doing, that would be perfect. If he did catch on that you were touching yourself without his permission though… that would be a different story. “Miss you.” you exhaled, your eyes snapping shut.
“I miss you too sweetheart,” Max sighed, and you could faintly hear him shuffle around in his bed, the sheets making a fuzzy noise on the other end of the line. “What— what were you thinking about?”
The question was a trap. You knew Max all too well. He was right to have his suspicions.
You didn’t even bother opening your eyes, and you tried to repress a longing whine as your finger involuntary picked up speed, like some kind of reflex reaction to his question. “S-stuff,” you stammered out when you felt your fingers begin to dampen and slip between your folds. But ‘S-stuff’ was hardly going to be good enough for Maxwell. You dipped two fingers inside you, surprised at how well they were stretching you. “Mm— Max, miss— I miss—“
You couldn’t even finish your sentence, already close to pushing your first climax out.
“Princess?” Max asked. “You there?”
Your response was delayed but was followed by a stifled moan that wasn’t lost on Max whatsoever. “Need you.” you gasped out, dropping the phone to your pillow by your head so you could use your other hand to rub yourself.
The friction of your digits rubbing against that sweet spot and the way your index finger and middle finger curled up inside of you was too much. You could feel yourself coming undone.
“Oh,” Max omitted knowingly, unable to contain the small smirk that was crossing his lips. “Oh baby.”
He felt his cock twitch from the faint little whimpers you were making, and he slid his hand under the waistband of his light grey sweats, freeing his already semi-hard erection.
“Tell me princess,” Max hummed. “What ‘stuff’ were you thinking about?”
Fuck. You wanted to curse. He knew. He clearly knew you were touching yourself to the sound of his voice; probably thinking you were needy and desperate. But you were. You really were and you’d give anything just to feel his hands on you right now.
“S-so much,” you answered, trying your hardest to collect your thoughts for him. “Undressing me. Caressing me. Mm, you playing with my tits like you always do. Kissing them— sucking them. Biting…” you reluctantly pulled your finger from your clit and began to palm at your breasts. “Come home.”
The two words were practically begging him. You ached for him. Your entire body was burning with arousal and you needed him more than you’d ever needed anyone before.
You knew it was a stupid request; and that he couldn’t just ‘come home’. But if you could have one wish— it would be for him to be on top of you right now, smothering you with kisses and whispering dirty little words into your ears.
“M-Max?” your voice was broken as you continued curling your fingers inside of you.
His fingers were wrapped around his own length now, pumping it as he imagined you sprawled out, naked on his king-sized bed. The grey sweats and white shirt had been long discarded onto the floor.
“I’m right here baby,” he assured, gathering the beads of milky white precum and rubbing it up and down his cock. “I’m here. Why— why don’t you take my pillow and grind your pretty pussy over it hm? I know you can get off like that, you dirty girl.”
Another uncontrollable whine omitted from your lips at his light degradation. You followed his orders, knowing better than to disobey. Taking his pillow, you got on your knees and positioned it in between your legs, holding the phone to your ear as you began to thrust your hips.
You imagined it be his lap. You’d rubbed yourself over his thighs plenty of times, making a mess of his designer pants and creating stains not even the drycleaner’s could remove. His pillow still vaguely smelt of his apple scented shampoo and it only spurred you on even more.
“I bet you look so pretty right now,” Maxwell grunted. “My pretty girl. What are you?”
You squeezed your eyes shut as the pleasure rifed through your veins. “I’m your pretty girl.” you confirmed, feeling your cheeks heat up when Max chuckled.
It was a sensation overload— and you knew you wouldn’t be able to last. Maxwell knew too, judging by the way your moans picked up and became jagged. “God— Ma-Mmm—Max,” your thoughts were fuzzy and jumbled as you increased your pace. You wanted to feel something inside of you again. Your fingers or a dildo or— something, anything. But you weren’t even sure if you’d get the chance. “I’m so close,” you warned. “Gonna— gonna cum—“
“No,” Max said darkly, his voice having lowered an octave. “Roll on your back princess, and pull the pillow off you.”
You wanted to cry. You knew he always liked to play these games.
“B—but,” you choked out, wanting to finish and reach your orgasm.
“Don’t make me ask again.”
He was using that scary business voice. The one you often overheard when he was on the phone with partners or associates. Reluctantly you pulled the pillow away from your weeping cunt put it back in its place.
“O-okay,” you mused, wiping the tears that had pricked at the corner of your eyes as you changed position and got comfortable on your back, just like he’d instructed.
“I wish I was with you sweetheart, wish I could fuck your little pussy. How wet are you?”
“Very.” you replied exasperated, desperately waiting for him to let you touch yourself again.
“Show me,” Maxwell smiled wickedly. “Move the phone in between your legs and finger yourself. I want to hear you.”
You frantically followed his instruction and inserted your two fingers inside of you, pushing them deep and curling them upwards so they hit that hot, spongey sweet spot. Your legs were shaking and your back was arched over top of the satin sheets as you panted your boyfriend’s name.
Max was more than thrilled to hear the squelching wet noise that echoed throughout the comfort of yours and his shared bedroom, with every thrust and curl of your fingers. It felt good but… it just wasn’t him.
Now his own broken gasps were audible. You loved to hear him. He always got loud when he was close. That’s how you knew he was about to finish. “So— so good. Sweetest cunt in the whole fuck—fucking world. When I come home I— gonna fuck you so hard.” he promised in between shaky breaths.
Your lips curled into a grin and you arched your back as your slick dipped down the softness of your inner thighs. After all the edging and over stimulation, there was no way you were going to last. This was exactly what you wanted; Max may not have been physically there but his voice alone had always worked wonders.
“Can we— can we cum togeth—“ your request was fuzzled by the way you buried your head into your pillow, feeling a warm flush of heat race to your core.
“Yes,” Max cut you off impatiently. “Are you close?”
“Y-yeah, I don’t think I can hold it—“
“You can baby, you can. I’m going to count down from three and we’ll cum together. Okay?”
You were a screaming sweating mess at this point, and his countdown couldn’t have felt any slower. Three seconds felt like three years as you mustered all your will to obey him.
“Three, two, one—“
He didn’t even say zero. The countdown was followed by a long groan falling from his lips as his milky white seed spilt all over his fist and his tummy. His cry pushed you over the edge and you released your own climax, spasming and shaking on his side of the bed.
You curled up under his sheets, still shaky, and pulled the phone back to your ear. “Hi,” you whispered sheepishly. “That was good.” you bit down on your lip, smiling to yourself. Your own voice was a little hoarse from all the moaning and whimpering.
“Yeah,” Max agreed, smiling himself. “Are you okay?”
“I’m tired,” you admitted with a huff, relishing in his cologne scented blankets.
“Wish I was there to clean you up,” Max sighed, and for a split second, he pondered the consequences of catching the next flight home.
He always took care of you after sex, paying a meticulous amount of detail to how you acted after your moments of shared intimacy. He’d fetch you water and wipe away any mess with a warm wash cloth. Sometimes he’d even help you into some cozy pyjamas or one of his shirts.
“I can go clean myself up, don’t worry about me,” you hummed in contentment. “Are you okay?”
“I’m perfect baby,” he grinned “I love you so much.”
“I love you too.”
“I can let you go—“
“No,” you cut him off, clutching onto the phone not wanting him to leave. Yeah you’d missed the amazing sex but truthfully, you’d missed him the most. “Can we uhm, can we just stay here on the phone together? Fall asleep together? I— I want you to be there when you wake up.”
Max hesitated for a moment, but he didn’t see a problem with your request. In fact, he thought it was a wonderful idea.
“Yeah, of course honey,” he replied softly. “I’m gonna go wipe myself down. You should do the same.”
“O-okay,” you sniffed. “I love you. I won’t be long.”
When you returned, Max was already waiting for you. “Princess?” he called, when he heard you shuffle back into bed.
“Hiya,” you giggled, rubbing your eyes. “I’m sleepy.” you admitted, your statement followed by a yawn.
Max chuckled. “Has my girl worn herself out?”
You laughed and nodded your head. “Yeah.”
“Okay sweetheart, let’s go sleep.” Max hummed, resting the phone by his pillow and closing his eyes.
“Okay, good night Maxie.” you mused softly.
“Good night honey.” He returned, before you both fell asleep.
——————
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#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#maxwell lord#max lord#maxwell lord x reader#jose pedro balmaceda pascal#pedro pascal smut
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I’m so excited that your doing these requests!🥳 could you please do prompt 36 from prompt list 1 with javier please, think I would cry😂💖 Thankyoux
Oh, okay, I see what you’re doing to me here! 🥺😌 Enjoy!
Prompt: 36. “Does he know about the baby?”
Javi x Fem!Reader ; warnings: language, pregnancy
Javier Masterlist
»»————- ♡ ————-««
You knocked on Connie and Steve’s door, hesitating for just a moment before opening once you heard her call to you. As soon as you walked into the Murphy’s place, you were overwhelmed with the smell of her delicious cooking. You grinned as you walked in, following the smell of the percolating coffee.
“Good morning,” you grinned at Steve who was setting the table. He looked up and smiled, offering you a small wave. You were just about in the kitchen when you felt a pair of arms wrap tightly around your waist before you were held against a strong chest. His smell immediately overwhelmed your senses as he pressed a few kisses to your bare shoulder; you’d purposely worn a sundress, one you knew he loved just to tease him a little...and for one other very specific purpose - but he wasn’t privy to that just yet, “good morning, Javier.”
“Good morning to you, Dulzura,” he whispered in your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek, “you had to wear that little dress, didn’t you? You drive me crazy sometimes.”
“Hmmm,” you mused as you hastily pulled out of his grasp before turning to face him and pressing a kiss to his lips, “maybe I like to mess with you...maybe I just really like this dress.”
“You are…” his hands his found purchase on your hips as he gave them a gentle squeeze, kissing along your jaw before stopping at the shell of your ear, his warm breath tickling you, “an absolute little -”
“Hi babe!” Connie beamed when she stuck her head out from the kitchen, her smile stretching from ear to ear, “so glad you made it! Do you mind giving me a hand real quick with finishing up? Javi - let the poor thing breath for a moment.”
Javi sighed dramatically before hanging his head; but you didn’t let him down that easily, instead putting a few fingers under his chin and turning his face up so you could kiss him properly. He instantly lit up at your touch, those soft brown eyes crinkling in the corners as his dimple made its appearance, “te amo, Javier. Now go and help Steve or something. I’m all yours after brunch anyway.”
“Fine,” he pouted as you pushed him in Steve’s direction. You watched him go with a laugh before joining Connie in the kitchen. She just smirked at you, handing you a bowl of fresh fruit to cut up.
The two of you fell into easy conversation, and you thoroughly enjoyed her company. But as you kept chopping away at the fruit, your stomach started to churn more and more with each slice of your knife. When you were halfway through cutting up the mango, you couldn’t handle it anymore and practically threw down the knife as you dashed towards the bathroom. You almost kicked the door open as you got onto your knees and heaved up the contents of your stomach.
Shit. Shit. Shit. You sighed at yourself when you were all done, wiping at the corners of your mouth. You’d thought you’d gotten over this part by now, hoping that it wouldn’t rear its ugly head again - especially not in front of your friends and boyfriend. No - the morning sickness should have been done by now.
“Dulzura?” Javier stepped into the small bathroom and shut the door behind him, immediately dropping to his knees next to you. Flushing the toilet, you turned to him and put on the most innocent face you could. He grabbed your face gently in his hands, brushing a thumb over your cheek as he studied you intently, “what happened? Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine, Javi,” you promised him softly as you put your hands on his wrists and gave them a gentle squeeze. Although you were sure that the average person would have easily believed your little lie, Javier was no average man and he was able to easily see through your white lie. You sighed heavily before pulling his hands from your face and moving to stand up, “please don’t worry about me, it’s probably something I ate.”
“I do worry,” he insisted, just as firmly, as you turned on the tap and stuck your head under it to swish your mouth with water, “it’s my job-”
“Your job is to be my boyfriend,” you spit out the cold water, “and to trust me when I say everything is fine. One little upset stomach is nothing to worry about, Javier Peña. You have enough to worry about, don’t worry about this one too.”
“Fine,” he held up his hands in defeat, but you could tell that he wasn’t going to let this one go; for now probably, but forever, “but-"
"If it happens again, you'll be the first to know mi amor," you promised him, "now go and finish up with Steve and I'll finish the fruit."
Javier gave your hand a squeeze before slowly making his way out of the bathroom, with you quickly following on his kneel. Before he walked back over to Steve while you rejoined Connie in the kitchen.
She'd taken it upon herself to finish cutting up the fruit, but a knowing little look was on her face. You walked back over without saying a word, fully intending on not mentioning a word, but just like Javier, Connie was sharp and perceptive and wouldn't let it go. You'd surrounded yourself with a particular type of person and right now you were regretting intensely.
"Does he know about the baby?" she whispered under her breath as you stilled in your motions. Your breath hitched in your throat as you slowly met her eyes, wanting to cry at the little smirk on her face.
"I-I-I…don't know what you're talking about," you lied lamely, more so wondering if she would go along with what you were saying or call your bluff.
"Honey," she gave you an almost pitying look, "you just had a bout of morning sickness and you're starting to show. I've seen the old dress trick tons of times."
"How did you know that's what it was?" you asked in a rushed whisper. She was a nurse...of course she'd know.
"Randomly throwing up at the smell of food? And it's not the first time - it's happened not infrequently over the past two months," she stated as you groaned, "just because those two are oblivious, doesn't mean I am."
"Fine," you hissed quietly, making sure that Javier and Steve weren't paying attention, "how can you tell I'm showing?! I thought it wasn't...obvious yet."
"Not to the untrained eye," she admitted, "I'm guessing you just started to pop? You've been wearing looser clothes lately… I'm guessing...16 weeks?"
"14 weeks...shit Con," you sighed softly, "I...I've been too obvious! I haven't...I haven't told Javier! I haven't found the right time and I've been so nervous and I-I-I...just I'm scared, Con. What if…"
"No what ifs, honey," she said softly as she put her arm around and pulled you into a hug, "you need to tell Javier. He deserves to know...and I know you're scared, but you know how much he loves you and this won't change anything. You've turned Javier into the best version of him - he adores you. But you have to tell him...besides you're not going to be able to hide it much longer…"
"Fuck!" you whined softly.
"Just tell him," she stated firmly, "you have to tell Javier."
"Tell me what?" Javier and his impeccable timing struck again as he walked into the kitchen and grinned at the two of you. You exchanged a nervous look with her before turning back to him.
"How much I love you," you swallowed nervously before grinning at him with the best smile you could muster up, "which is a lot whole, mi amor."
He opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off with a kiss. Javier made a small sound but said nothing, instead giving you another kiss.
»»————- ♡ ————-««
"What's wrong, Dulzura?" Javier asked as he pulled you into his lap; you had stiffened immediately upon his touch. As soon as you'd gotten back to his apartment, he was all over you, his touch was like fire and he was all consuming. It had been easy to get lost in his touch, the feel of his lips on yours, his large hands roaming your body.
But as soon as he had led you back to his bedroom and he flopped down on the bed and pulled you into him - sheer panic set in.
"N-nothing," you lied as you stood up and took a step back. A look of confusion crossed his features as you tried to keep it together, "just tired…"
"Okay," he sighed softly before running a hand over his face, "what the hell is going on? You've been acting off all day…"
"Nothing…"
"Dulzura."
"Javier, you're worrying over nothing again."
"You won't even let me touch you," he sighed lightly, "if you don't want me to let me know. We don't have to do anything…"
"I do, Javier...I'm just tired."
"Bullshit…"
"Javi…"
"You can tell me anything, Dulzura. I love you, you know that."
"I-"
"Anything at all."
"I-"
"Nothing will ever change that I love you."
"I'm pregnant."
It came out as an almost shout as you finally plucked up the courage to just say it. Javier's jaw dropped as he immediately looked at your stomach and then back at your face. A million different emotions flickered over his features as he tried to figure out what was happening.
Oh, he'd heard you - he just couldn't come to terms with it.
"What?" he said softly as he met your eyes. His eyes were glossy as he tried to figure out if it was true, "Dulzura...what did you say?"
"I...I...I'm pregnant," you whispered softly, your own eyes starting to prick and burn. Slowly, you reached for the hem of your dress, pulling it up as gently as you watched his reaction. He sucked in his breath as he watched your stomach become revealed to him. It was small, still barely evident, but it was there - the sweetest of bumps, "I...I should have told you sooner, Javier. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"
"Why are you sorry?" his eyes were practically twinkling as his lips trembled slightly. He stood up and came over, a hand gingerly going to your stomach as he paused to see if you would stop. But you didn't - you let him put his hand on your belly before putting your own on top of his, "our baby...how far…"
"14 weeks," you said nervously as he nodded, trying to keep it together and not completely lose his mind, "I found out about 6 weeks ago and I-I-I panicked so much and I kept trying to figure out the perfect time to tell you and I keep not. I'm so sorry for that, Javier. You deserved to know sooner...and I completely understand if you don't want...anything to do with me or the baby."
"Why would you think I wouldn't want anything to do with…" he paused as he looked up and met your eyes, his free hand moving to your cheek, as you keened in to his touch, "did you think I was going to be mad...leave?"
"No," you admitted honestly, "I just didn't know what you'd...think. I'm scared and nervous and I didn't know what to do, and I just kept not telling you. And we didn't plan for a baby, I mean...its a mess."
"I love you," he whispered before kissing your forehead, "and - fuck - a few years ago I didn't think I'd ever love someone again or be in this situation. And now...I'm scared, don't get me wrong, absolutely terrified. But I am...I'm excited. This is...you...I love you."
"I'm scared too," your lips trembled, but in a quick measure of reassurance, he pressed a kiss to your lips in a sweet, gentle manner, "its a baby, Javier. What if-"
"Dulzura," he whispered softly, "I know there are a ton of things to think about - but I promise you this - it will be okay, we will be okay. I'm not going anywhere and I will protect you and the baby, and fuck - I'm happy. Scared but happy."
"Yeah?" you asked softly, not hesitating to throw your arms around his neck and holding him tightly, "I love you, Javier. More than you will ever know."
"I love you too," he kissed the crown of your head as he gently rubbed your back in soothing circles. He held you silently for some time, letting you get your soft cries, these ones not of worry or sadness but nervous happiness out, "can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"How did I never...notice? What if I hadn't found out and you'd gotten bigger?" he chuckled warmly as you snorted with laughter.
"Well, I've been keeping the lights off," you reminded him and he made a sound of 'oh yeah', "and this little bit just seemed to pop out the last few days...I don't know...I guess I would have blamed...bloating?"
"You are too much," he laughed as you gave him a sheepish look, "do me a favor?"
"Of course."
"Next time, just tell me as soon as you know," he insisted gently, "I...I want this - to be a part of this - and to experience it all with you."
"Next time?" you quirked an eyebrow gently, "you presume there's a next time?"
"Maybe…" he grinned with a cheeky smirk, "but seriously, Dulzura - I'm happy, scared, but happy. And I love you, always."
"I love you too," you promised, "con todo."
"I know," he whispered, "now - will you let me show you how much?"
"Javier…"
»»————- ♡ ————-««
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#Javier peña#javier peña x reader#javier peña x you#narcos#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#javier pena#javier pena x you#forever-rogue's follower celebration
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sour tangerine | huang renjun
pairing: keyboardist!renjun x songwriter!reader
words: 15.3k
summary: ‘i gave up on that sort of music,’ he’d said. but not like this. not when you’re there to grab his wrist and drag him into your ridiculous notions about music that make him want to tear all his hair out. huang renjun falls in love with two words that escape your lips, and now he has to pretend his cheeks aren’t caked in a blush as red as donghyuck’s guitar. maybe he shouldn’t have agreed to joining this band of idiots just for an incredibly cute songwriter.
themes: rock band!au, fluff, (mostly existential) angst, comedy-ish
warnings: making out, alcohol, college kids being college kids
song recs: hello sunshine - wetter // how to love - day6 // today - nell // rooftop - n.flying // what can i do - day6 // red - the rose // i loved you - day6 // leave it - n.flying // baby - the rose
a/n: nct dream 00 line rock band. that’s it. who wants to join my renjun cover literally any song by day6 agenda. if you think this is like a kdrama compressed into a fic i am so sorry but you are correct hsdksh also i do not know what it’s like to major in music or make music so... please bear with me.
special thanks to @insomni-writing for beta reading this ilysm!! and @cinanamon because your support made me actually finish this ily dude <3
With hair dyed blond and a stream of colourful words ready at the tip of his tongue, no one assumes Huang Renjun majors in classical music. Not when he’s threatening Lee Donghyuck by the vending machine, not when he’s pulling an arrogant half-smile by the semester-end results and certainly not when he’s hardly ever seen near an instrument as elegant as the grand piano.
If they heard him play it just once, they’d forget the rest.
He strikes the keys gently, and then all at once in a motion so very unique to him—and you know this, not because you were stalking him, but because you happened to get a very rare ticket to the national level performing arts concert (which you didn’t scam out of someone that time, you swear). Looking pristine in a clean tuxedo and with then dark hair swept to the side, Huang Renjun looked very much like an alien, like the words leaving his mouth and the things he’d do would be so unpredictable.
You were right.
Huang Renjun plays the piano like he’s not of this world.
He plays soft rock tunes even better—which, this time, you know because you were, in fact, stalking him while he spent extra hours in the practice room. From the lazy smile on his face to the way he let himself loose (for once) in a hot pink hoodie he kept trying to cover with his bag all day, you knew he was perfect.
Out of all the miserably planned (and timed) situations you’ve pulled yourself into, this might just hit top 3.
You’re going to convince Renjun to join your band.
Which is easier said than done, because Renjun is just as stubborn as you are, if not more. You’ve never wanted to smack someone so bad and neither have you ever contemplated the outcome of spontaneous fistfights as much. But as frustrated as he leaves you, you know you need him, or your picture-perfect plan will fall apart before you’ve even started to paint.
The first time you’d nudged him in class, he’d sent you a glare as soon as the question left your lips. You’d fought a pout, the warmth on your cheeks popping like firecrackers. But you’re not easily discouraged, no, not really, not ever.
The second time, you’d spread your arms in front of him to get him to stop walking off, looking more of a lunatic than a college student (sometimes, what’s the difference?) and Renjun had pursed his lips and furrowed his brows in an expression more than annoyed.
“Please!” you yelled, catching the attention of fellow students.
Renjun eyed your palms flat against each other, elbows raised in a most comical prayer and announced a “No” just as loudly before briskly walking away.
The third time, you’d sent Donghyuck, your lead guitarist, who you really shouldn’t have expected to perform better than you did. You know they’re friends, so that should have worked better, right? Wrong. Renjun had returned a pouting Donghyuck, complaining nonstop for two whole days afterwards and with a message from Renjun to “in the best of words, fuck off”.
You sigh, glancing at the time on your watch. This is your last time to book him for your ragtag rock band (still unnamed) and you’re going to leave him with no choice. You can do this.
You tiptoe from one side of the corridor to the other, the large windows drenching you in an uncomfortable amount of sunlight. But you are quiet—you know how to be sneaky and you’d be lying if you said you’re not at least a little bit proud of it. Renjun stays at the senior practice room well into late afternoon and if the door was closed fully, you’d be hearing nothing of it.
The old model of electronic keyboards in the practice room, which made you wonder if electric instruments ever rust, now plays ringing clear. It’s not just the fondness with which your school’s beloved pianist plays it but the added charm of his structure, straightened enough to focus but relaxed just as much.
A few minutes pass by in quiet contemplation, as you run through your plan again. First, approach him with a friendly gesture, offer him your strawberry milk or something. Second, block every exit he might seek once you’ve cornered him. Third, spew that long speech you prepared—a pretty pile of words ought to move him. Right? If all else fails, you’re going to call in Jaemin as your secret weapon. The boy can charm a rock, and you hate to be doing that to anyone (even Renjun), but drastic situations call for drastic measures. You take a sharp breath.
Oh, he’s singing now?
You misstep over the marble flooring and the door creaks open a little too loud.
Shit.
The music stops. You take a good second to swear at yourself, well and full, before breathing in and entering the practice room with as much confidence as you can gather.
“Renjun!” you say, grinning wide and arms stretched as if you’re there to welcome him.
Renjun looks at you, surprise smeared across his face. He quickly picks up his bag, shaking his head at you as he makes his way towards the door.
“You- “
Instead of all your brilliant planning, you resort to pulling a disgruntled Renjun into a lonesome corner before he can leave. It would seem more of a threat than an invitation to join, you’ll admit, but right now, you need Renjun to not glare at you with a scowl so obvious. It’s not that his face makes you nervous, it’s the outcome of today’s attempt. The bright afternoon sun reaches his hair and the left side of his face, a warm hue over eyes that look at you with more than just mild annoyance. He wears a grungy dark jacket over his lightly coloured T-shirt and has the audacity to claim he doesn’t do rock.
“Are you trying to kidnap me or something?” he asks, adjusting the strap of his bag.
You quickly smack the wall so your arm blocks his way, though the impact of it makes you wince.
“Join me,” you say, looking at him, determination across your face though the sentence comes off more cult-ish than you’d want.
Renjun takes a step back to look up and take a sharp breath.
“I already told you,” he says, raising his voice, “I don’t do that sort of music anymore.”
“Anymore?”
Renjun groans, lips shaped in perfect annoyance. “Just how long are you going to keep this up?”
He tries to escape you but you take a hasty step closer, his back hitting the wall with a thud. It’s not all that fun, getting people to join your band. It’s even less fun when Renjun’s cologne is a tad too minty for your tastes.
“I’ll do anything!” you say, pressing your lips tight as the pleading grows in your eyes.
“Anything?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes!” You jolt up straighter.
“Then leave me alone forever for the rest of my life.”
Renjun crosses his arms and you frown, a sigh lacing your lips till you bring yourself to look him in the eye again. It’s not yet time to pull out Jaemin, you’re not even sure if that will work, but you might just have something else.
“Lee Chaerim!” you suddenly yell. “You like her, don’t you?”
It’s a long shot but if it works…
Renjun’s cheeks dust pink and he takes a step back, furrowing his eyebrows at you. Bullseye. You fight a snort before he can catch you. Gods, he’s so obvious.
“Wh-what gave you that idea?” he retorts, pitch shooting higher before he recomposes himself. “She’s a classmate, idiot. And don’t yell her name!”
“Star pianist Lee Chaerim,” you wave your hand about. “Who wouldn’t have a crush on her? I mean you’re a close second though.”
Renjun raises his eyebrows in disbelief. “It’s really not…”
“I’ll score you a date with her!” you declare, grinning like a maniac. “If you join my band.”
Renjun sighs, shoulders sagging. “You’re really not going to drop this, are you?”
“Nope.” You shrug, popping the ‘p’ in a helplessly obnoxious manner.
Renjun leans back against the wall, head tilting to look you in the eye as the frown grows prominent over his lips.
“And you think scoring me a date will make me want to join your…band?” Renjun snorts.
You shift your eyes awkwardly. “Well, I didn’t really paint you as the Romeo type either but hey, I don’t judge a book by its cover.”
“(name)?”
“Yes?”
“You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”
“Oh. That’s actually the sweetest thing I’ve heard from you,” you muse before quickly returning to the subject at hand. “Ah, come on. Just give it a chance, please?
“I major in classical music.”
You raise an eyebrow, a smirk crawling over your lips. “And yet you’re more than decent at Queen on the keys.”
Renjun straightens, the crease between his eyebrows deepening. “You’re stalking me?!”
“No, I’m scouting you. All the big companies hire people to do that.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Er, it’s called extraordinary.”
“Extraordinarily annoying.”
“Stop arguing with me!” You stomp your foot.
Renjun mimics you in a rather aggressive tone, the tip of his nose almost touching yours. You pull a face, throwing a soft punch at his shoulder to which he responds with a sharp cry and a glare.
“Fine!” Renjun says, massaging his shoulder. “I’ll give you one week to prove to me this band’s worth my time.”
You feel something akin to surprise before his words register. Worth his time? He's just about as arrogant as you expected.
“Deal,” you say, shooting him a forced smile.
From the light periwinkle of his T-shirt to the blond strands astray against his forehead, there’s a sort of halo surrounding him. You press your lips together before you can laugh at his supposed angelic qualities, before he somehow starts to look as pretty as your friends describe.
“Starting today, I’m your lyricist and composer!” you grin, extending your hand towards him.
“I...You…”
Renjun hesitates before taking your hand in a firm shake, but not before pursing his lips in doubt. Perhaps you could have warned him before grabbing his wrist and so unceremoniously dragging him here.
“I didn’t even join,” he mutters.
“I’m giving you the full trial!” you defend.
Renjun stays quiet before suddenly clearing his throat. “You can- You can let go of the wall now.”
Your eyes trail to your hand and you immediately retract it with an “ah”. There’s barely any distance between your chests, and you suppose you were successful in cornering him—a little too effectively. Renjun shakes his head, quickly walking past you with no gesture of goodbye.
“You’re going to be disappointed, (name),” he says quietly before leaving.
You blink in confusion at his disappearing figure.
Whatever. When have you ever paid attention to words of warning? You glance at the back of Renjun’s head from the second floor’s handrail as he rushes down the stairs, albeit a sort of grace to his movement, and sigh.
Donghyuck owes you twenty. You’re going to be rubbing it in his smug face that you’ve recruited, er, almost recruited the unreachable Huang Renjun. And for a date? He must be far more romantic than you thought. You don’t think you’ll ever understand him.
You take a slow, deep breath reaching all the way to your belly.
Your plan is working out. It’s going to work out—soon you can be writing songs to a rhythm and melody of your choice, for people who can hear the words and dance to it. The world’s gonna sing along to your songs, to the chorus to your ambitions.
“Renjun?!”
Between Donghyuck’s agape mouth and Renjun’s defensive stance, you really don’t know who to approach first. This place was apparently the only room in all of Seoul a bunch of college kids could rent out and while all of you dished out a remarkable chunk from your earnings, it was worth every penny. From the ugly orange wallpaper to the stinky couch, you wouldn’t trade a thing in this room, except for maybe Jeno’s withering plant in exchange for a new one. Poor thing’s been dead for as long as you can remember (courtesy of Jaemin).
“(name) actually convinced you?” Donghyuck asks, exaggerated surprise in his voice before he drops it lower. “You can tell me if you were threatened or something, promise I’ll get you out of this.”
Renjun rolls his eyes, a smile making on to his face anyway. “It’s just for a w—mph!”
You slap a hand over Renjun’s mouth, stepping in to grin victoriously at Donghyuck. “See, Hyuck? I told you I’d make it work. Now, pay up.”
“You bet on this?”
The curtains are drawn shut but the room lights are bright in a strange sort of way, like someone in the sixteenth century discovered electricity early and decided to reinvent candlelight out of it. Late afternoon isn’t as gentle as it is in winter, but you’d rather have patches of sunlight decorating the room instead of the garish yellow lights. The lavender air freshener you sprayed a few minutes ago has already settled in, the previous scent of instant noodles, though delicious, finally gone. You should’ve brought the coffee mix, you think with regret. A productive day needs a productive start, as you’ve always been told. (You might have messed up, but it’s never too late, right?)
You think you should have anticipated a little adjustment trouble after all.
Jeno walks headfirst into the mess—with Renjun choking Donghyuck under his arm while you try to not drop the pile of records from the small coffee table and onto the Dorito dust-covered wooden floor. The recorder is safe, a good few feet away from your mayhem.
“Oh, hey Renjun, didn’t know you’re a part of this,” Jeno says, raising an eyebrow at the boy.
“Yeah, I didn’t either,” Renjun mutters in response, loosing up on Donghyuck.
You narrow your eyes. “Wait, you guys know each other?”
“Yeah, we’re in the same dorm,” Jeno answers, shrugging before he drops his bag onto the couch.
You gasp. “You could’ve just asked him all this time?!”
“Uh,” Jeno drawls out before coughing forcefully. There’s a slight change of air, and your inability to read situations, for the first time, is a major help.
“Hello, trouble children,” Jaemin announces as he enters, his bag thrown in Jeno’s direction, who seems relieved for the interruption.
“Oh, hi Renjun!”
“You know him too?” You’re almost offended at this point.
Jaemin stares blankly in confusion. “Yeah, we’re…all…in the same dorm.”
You throw up your head in exasperation, an annoyed huff leaving your parted lips. “And none of you thought of asking him to join?!”
“We didn’t think he’d ever agree,” Jaemin says, glancing at Renjun discreetly.
Renjun stays quiet, shrugging before he plops down on the couch. “Anyone wanna tell me what we’re supposed to do today? Apart from killing Donghyuck?”
“It’s not my fault you’re so bad at rock, paper, scissors,” Donghyuck retorts quietly.
“You cheated!” Renjun sits up straight, glaring.
You raise your palms like the peaceful negotiator you are, and honestly, all they had to do was decide the lead vocal for the new song, which Renjun vehemently rejected.
Donghyuck gasps. “Renjun isn’t half as innocent as he looks. Watch out (name)—oof.”
Renjun elbows him in the stomach, the resulting expression on Donghyuck making you wonder just how much strength Renjun really has.
“Renjun, Donghyuck. You’re both lead,” you say, finalizing.
“What?!”
The two of them look at you, one with betrayal and the other with an emotion very close to murder. It wasn’t easy coming to the decision, sure, but for this song, you’ll be needing Renjun a little bit more. Is it treacherous of you to have picked out the song most suited to him? You have your reasons, however. You’re not letting Renjun leave without experiencing the wonders of performing at a local pub, and in general, you’re a little iffy about letting him leave at all. You need the keys and you need a chance. You have something to prove.
“Just this song, Hyuck,” you sigh. “You know we switch up things every time.”
“Fine,” he grumbles. “The show's coming Saturday, right?”
You nod when Renjun interrupts.
“Show?!” he blurts.
“We’re performing,” you answer, shrugging. “You know Odd Fruit? In Hongdae?”
Renjun wrinkles his nose, shifting back. “No? Isn’t that a dive bar?”
“Best place for us,” Jaemin grins, resting his elbows against the headrest beside Renjun. “Saturdays are for rock.”
Renjun sighs. “I don’t- I don’t sing rock.”
Jeno raises an eyebrow. “I wasn’t peeping or anything but wasn’t that you in the shower? What were you singing again—”
“Okay, okay!” Renjun sits up straight, heaving a sigh, his shoulders moving with it. “I sing Disney songs in the shower, it doesn’t mean anything…”
“We can do that sort of music too.” You grin, tilting your head. “We can do any music!”
“Yeah,” Jeno encourages thoughtfully, “Even idol music!”
“No,” everyone says in unison.
Jeno mutters something under his breath, sulking as he sinks into the couch and crosses his arms after adjusting his bright red baseball cap.
Renjun shakes his head, recomposing himself. “You want me to perform next Saturday?! That wasn’t in the deal!”
You furrow your brows. “I told you it’s a full trial!”
“That’s over a week!” He throws up his hands in exasperation.
“The trial week ends on Friday and Saturday’s just a bonus,” you reason, crossing your arms.
You don't break the gaze just in case it determines your stand. It’s probably a full minute of glaring at each other before your humble audience intervenes, Donghyuck bursting into laughter and the other two following. You share a puzzled look with Renjun, looking around for an explanation.
“We’re gonna have a blast this Saturday,” Donghyuck says, wiping a tear from his eye. “I can’t wait.”
“We’ll get to practise,” Jaemin says, resting his palm on Renjun’s shoulder reassuringly. “You’re gonna have fun, trust me.”
“I hope so,” Renjun mutters.
That’s all you need to hear.
Renjun isn’t half as disagreeable when he’s focused. His brow line is straight, lips parted gently and eyes almost hazed over as if his fingers over the keys have eyes of their own.
Renjun is also fantastic at perfecting your notes. You always thought he’d be too prissy to work with you, but he doesn’t seem to care about that anymore. With flushed knuckles and long fingers, part of hands that were meant to play the piano—you’d say Renun lives up to the musical prodigy title. The short demo you’d played for him somehow swirled and twined into music so him and yet still you, rock undertones with light blues. You haven’t met anyone who can play with melody like that, besides Donghyuck.
Rock means hope. Undone to be done.
And maybe, part of you is a little disappointed at how well he handles the pre-performance stress. You would love to see a hint of jitters in him for once. Saturday wastes no time in creeping up and while you wish you could say you feel what your band looks like, you don’t. The pre-performance stress is very, very different for you.
Let’s say, you’re not too sure about reviving rock music in Seoul. It’s not very popular and still considered underground, but hey, at least it’s easy on the ears and it is honest, if nothing else. And an honest sound wins, right?
You lock eyes with Renjun, before they're ushered to the centre. There's not much to be said. You smile with a determined nod, holding up both of your thumbs to the boys. This will work out. It will.
And at the very least, you're getting two shots of whiskey on the house.
The place is shabby, but not too shabby for a dive bar. There’s a giant mural… thing of what seems to be the hybrid of a peach, apricot and dragonfruit. You’re not too sure, actually. Just as crowded as you expected, the lights glow dim and the smell of musk and lime keep in check the other foul smells that could possibly emanate from the human body. Lovely. Your fingers play against your lips as they stretch into a smile. It’s the perfect place to play your song, but maybe the jitters have a purpose after all.
There are foreign faces around, quite literally, and it makes you nervous. You settle by the bar, your last words of encouragement drifted off further from you to whatever that excuse of a stage is.
Renjun looks calm as ever. The confidence in him is not what you'd expected, though a bubbling feeling in you suggests it's even better this way.
“You finally got someone on the keys,” a familiar voice calls from behind the countertop.
You turn your head to find Doyoung, arms resting on the table and holding what seems to be a bottle of vodka so tenderly, you’d think it was either his child or an explosive.
“Huang Renjun,” you respond, smiling. “Like the best pianist in our year. Or maybe second best.”
Doyoung laughs. “You kids could be as good as us some day. Need more practice.”
“Hey, old man, it’s not your time anymore,” you say, raising an eyebrow with a cheeky grin. “Maybe you were the best keyboardist back then but…”
You lean in to emphasize as you point at a Renjun furrowing his brows at all the wiring. “That guy’s going to outsing you. It’s the new era now. Etcetera, etcetera.”
“You talk like I’m from a different generation.” Doyoung scoffs, though the corner of his lips twitch. “Still dreaming of making your boyband? Do you guys even have a name?”
You pout. “It’s not a boyband! Okay… technically, it is a boyband. And no, we don’t have a name.”
You sulk for a moment or two at the way Doyoung had called your life’s work a boyband in that uninterested tone. Nothing’s wrong with a boyband. You sigh.
“At least we’re getting free alcohol, eh?” you nudge Doyoung, him being the reason you’re getting to play here anyway. What does a graduated music performance major do in his free time? Bartending, apparently. You haven’t ever really questioned his life choices and you’re not going to start now. Never question your seniors.
“I’m not serving you kids alcohol,” he says, furrowing his eyebrows in disbelief.
“We’re legal,” you argue, crossing your arms.
“Hard to believe.”
You see the smile lines crease on Doyoung’s face and before you can retort, a hum of strings resounds through the place, loud enough for the two of you to catch.
“Sorry,” Donghyuck mouths sheepishly to the two of you, Doyoung responding with an eye roll.
“I didn’t know that demon could get nervous,” he mutters and you laugh at the comedic duo the two of them make.
Donghyuck clears his throat into the mic and you cringe, but not before holding back your laughter at the terror in his eyes. Right then, the keys are struck, and suddenly, music is into motion.
You absentmindedly hum along, smiling to yourself before it strikes you to monitor the crowd. You gulp, a crease in your brows as you look around with the determination of a child at a pet shop scanning for a puppy to adopt.
You give up after a minute or so, the feeling weighing heavy. Reading facial expressions has never really been your thing, especially under lights that don’t acknowledge the purpose of their existence. (You’re not saying this because you have bad eyesight.) Fun varies. Everyone in this place is in a crowd of their own, and if not a crowd, in a dream. Some nod along, some smile but you, you know the song better than anyone else in this room. It has to be worth something.
You sigh. Your desperation gets a notch crueler each drawing year, and yet, the questions still arise. Do you have to be someone? A smiling face at a dive bar is more than enough to be, you think.
You mouth the lyrics, nodding your head along to the baseline you helped make. You think Doyoung chuckles beside you, something about taking self-love too seriously but you can’t hear him over the sound of the band.
Bass. Drums. Keys.
Suddenly, in the moment between heartbeats, your eyes meet Renjun’s.
He sings into the mic full of self-assurance, teeth occasionally making an appearance in a chaotic smile. It's always the little things that make the person. Eyes peering down at the keys, barely keeping open at certain parts and yet you think you see a hint of exhilaration in them.
The riff of the second song starts out loud. This is Donghyuck’s song and this time, it turns heads. You’re not sure in a good way or bad, but it wouldn’t be the first time people have wanted to beat him up in a bar. You snicker to yourself but just then, two guys cheer from the crowd, a red-faced Donghyuck flashing them a grin.
“Ah, Jaehyun and Taeil are here too,” Doyoung notes. You’ve never actually met the two but you’ve heard of them so many times you think you could replace Doyoung as their lead singer.
The song is called Cheers and for good reason.
Donghyuck smiles into the mic, and with a highly anticipated breath, you realize, Renjun is smiling too. Little by little, the night grows more optimistic and into the palms of your youth. Even in this tiny, crowded place. Even in a room full of people you can’t read.
The song ends in time, but not enough for Donghyuck to actually convince Doyoung to give him drinks. It’s not a Saturday night without their fights, and despite that, the atmosphere is warm with spoken words. You think you catch Renjun beam at Doyoung’s compliment, suppressing your own smile at the two..
Clink, splash, clink.
“You know, for someone as excited about whiskey, I thought you’d be better with liquor,” Renjun says, sighing as his hesitant finger pokes you in the forehead.
Your eyes open so suddenly, Renjun flinches and you ease into a smile. “I’m not that drunk. The next shot, maybe.”
That’s not entirely true because you’re sure the previous one just needs a little more time to settle into your gut. Renjun, on the other hand, seems to be better at dealing with alcohol. The peach hue across his cheeks make you want to pinch them and you’ll give it twenty minutes before you lose control and actually do.
The two songs were only three and a half minutes each but they seemed to stretch long enough for you to be pleased with them. You’re not sure about the rest.
“I almost messed up the beat there,” Jeno mutters, resting his head against the bar table. Jaemin shrugs beside him, taking another shot. The two of them can hold their liquor, at least. Donghyuck cannot.
“Was it that bad?” Donghyuck asks, adjusting the red bomber jacket he was so sure made him look cool. “I don’t think it was bad. I mean, we all do embarrassing things once in a while—”
“Does he not shut up?” Renjun wails before looking at you accusingly. “Don’t end up like that.”
“I don’t mope, Renjun,” you snap, your finger unsteady as it points at him. “You better remember that about me.”
Renjun rolls his eyes. “And you’re gone too.”
“Tell me,” you say, your lips tugged into a lazy smile, “you enjoyed it, didn’t you? I saw you smiling.”
Even under the wash of blue light, you can see his cheeks tinge with colour. Is Huang Renjun purple now? Not the crystal clear jewel you’d expected, but these hues are so much nicer on him. He doesn’t always have to be under golden spotlight—he can just bask in the mulberry shades of a nearly sketchy club once in a while.
“Renjun,” a loud whine erupts from beside you, Donghyuck immediately wobbling up. “I can’t believe you actually agreed to play with us. C’mere, let me give you a smooch.”
Renjun curls his lips, desperately trying to fight off Donghyuck clinging onto him for life, and you hear a grunt of pain from Renjun in a pitch you didn’t think was humanly possible. You laugh, clutching your stomach and hear a few strained words from Renjun about how no one ever helps him. Who would help him when he’s providing you the funniest event of the weekend?
Jeno is the knight in shining armour tonight, pulling Donghyuck off but not before the boy lands a kiss on Renjun’s neck, in turn getting smacked in the lips a little too hard. Donghyuck places his hand over his mouth, keeling over with eyes shut in pain and Renjun mutters about how he deserved that. He fits in just fine, you think.
“You wanna… not do that?”
Renjun pulls the shot glass away from you, and you frown at him.
“So tell me,” he says, leaning in a little closer to be heard over the song. “Why did you want me to join your band so desperately you forgot your own dignity? I’m not saying you had any to begin with but…”
“Look, Renjun, I don’t give away embarrassing secrets when I’m drunk,” you warn, poking him right between the ribs. “Even if it’s not embarrassing. Or a secret.”
“Right. You’d do that sober,” he sighs, arms a polite distance from you when you try to stand up.
“Now you tell me—”
“You didn’t even answer me.”
“—did you have fun?”
Renjun pauses, taking a moment or two as he scans your face. The light dances across his features, gentle eyes and parted lips, across the dark jacket over a white shirt that has turned fluorescent under the lighting. You forgot how fun this place got beyond midnight, when they play beats to dance to for a crowd that seeks nothing more than fun.
“Yes. Yes, I did.”
Renjun might be trying very hard to stop the smile over his lips but you can see it in his eyes. And perhaps, people are only seen when they are true to themselves.
“Huang Renjun!” you yell all of a sudden, voice still drowned out in the delicate discordance.
Unfortunately for Renjun, you yell directly into his ear and he responds with a violent recoil, hand flying to his ear involuntarily. He probably cries out too but the music is deafening, something you enjoy rightly so. Or is it the alcohol? Should you have stayed sober for Renjun’s sake? Right now, you don’t even mind the strong minty scent wafting from Renjun—in fact, it’s welcoming, even.
You wobble onto his chest before tentatively pushing yourself away. You curse at yourself. You weren’t supposed to get hammered. How much did you drink? You can’t even bear to look at the bill right now.
“You know what? I’m not having fun right now,” Renjun speaks into your ear and you jump. There’s a hint of a smile on his face.
You sit back down on the bar stool, pouting at the fuzz blooming inside your head. No more words for tonight. In all honesty, why doesn’t anyone ever let you dance?
“Oh no, you don’t.” Doyoung pulls the bottle of whatever-alcoholic-beverage out of your reach. “Do you even know how expensive that is? You’re going to have to pay.”
You think you sober up a little, sitting straight. “Oh no. I don’t have money. I’m not cleaning the place again.”
A sort of unspoken arrangement passes between Doyoung and Renjun, who you’re sure have never met before. You know Jaemin’s dragged Donghyuck home, the same way you’d drag your pet cat away from the kitchen and Jeno is the only one with a driver’s license and Doyoung’s trust (hence, designated driver). Which leaves the two of you.
Renjun heaves a sigh, pulling you up by the shoulders. “You’re going home. Or whatever dumpster you came from.”
He proceeds to mutter something about Jeno being late but in the moment, you flash him a grin, walking perfectly away (at least, you think you do) and out into the night. Renjun follows, flustered by your absolute lack of restraint as he somehow manages to stop you from tripping over the sidewalk.
“You didn’t dance,” you complain, looking at him.
“You didn’t let me,” he retorts. “Look at you. You’re as bad as Donghyuck. Babysitting him is difficult enough.”
You grumble before agreeing. “Okay, fair. Next time, no drinking. Unless it’s free.”
What college student would have the audacity to turn down free drinks? Huang Renjun should not have been this good at holding his liquor. Needlessly, your thoughts are incoherent—not too good for a songwriter, right?
Huang Renjun has a lighter touch than you thought. He has a polite hold over your shoulder, in a way friends do most often, and you might feel like you could have been friends with him forever, but you can never tell what he thinks. Sometimes, Renjun really is extraterrestrial. In the way he talks, in the way he looks at things and in the way you almost believe he’s going to do something unspeakably outrageous someday.
You feel a certain sprout of warmth in your chest as he sits quietly beside you in the noisy car Jeno loves to drive. Must be the alcohol, of course. Of course.
And sometimes, you come up with words fit for a song. To fall asleep in last night’s clothes and wake up with tomorrow’s dreams—all part of the grand plan, part of the crusades of youth, nothing more and nothing less. That sounds like something you’d love telling your family when you’re old and grey. You laugh to yourself, pulling the covers over your head, not knowing how you even ended up here.
It smells minty.
With that one fleeting thought, you doze off in your unwashed bed sheets and faintly lemon-scented pillows, shades of plums and oranges and cherries of the night twisting into midnight black.
Playing at Odd Fruit is now a thing. Your thing. The band’s thing.
As if you needed any more reasons to stay over at the bandroom, now that Donghyuck and Renjun bickering keeps everyone up all night. You’re not blaming them, of course, when you join in the fun too. The day Renjun’s nostrils stop flaring and his eyebrows don’t furrow into an oddly adorable expression will be the day he’s finally set free from your ‘ill-treatment’.
Tap, scratch, tap.
Donghyuck fiddles with the strings of his guitar, while the rest lay slumped in any clean bit of space they could find, like runners after a marathon. Which is funny, really, considering you were the one running errands and cleaning up the damn place and it’s yet still somehow trashed. You could be having a little more energy, you always could.
However, the lengthened nights have left you in a state you’re rather afraid to be in. Your eyes don’t grow any more determined when it’s time for end semester tests, you don’t grow any happier at the thought of graduating. There are so many tunes to find, so many words to scribble—just how will you catch up?
Fun is a perfectly valid reason to do things but it’s only so long before the rest of your feelings each grip you by the limbs.
“We need to do something more,” you say, pacing the room. “Something that’s a little more eye-catching, you know?”
There’s a pause.
“Make Jeno play the drums shirtless,” Donghyuck suggests.
Jeno sighs, still not having figured out how to respond every time a scandalizing proposition escapes the boy’s mouth. At this point, most of you have considered duct taping him over the mouth but it’d never work. Renjun’s tried.
“Why do we even need it?” Renjun asks, eyes on the ceiling as he lies back on the couch.
“To improve!” you say, shoulders hunching.
“I don’t need improving,” he mutters, neck angled to the side in contemplation.
“Yeah, you should see Renjun at the dorms,” Donghyuck snorts. “I don’t think he can get any better.”
Renjun furrows his brows. “What?”
“You play the keys in your sleep, Renjun,” Donghyuck says, almost distastefully. “You keep tapping and tapping against the study desk. How the hell do you not wake yourself up?”
“And you snore,” Renjun mumbles, glaring at him. “How the hell do you not wake yourself up?”
“Guys,” you interrupt. Your lack of sleep throughout the exam season has not left you any better than this. “More important matters at hand.”
“Why are we so stressed anyway?” Renjun sighs.
There’s another pause in the quiet afternoon. You’d think it’s comforting even to have the same fear lingering beneath each of your noses, that same existential grasp ready to pounce—all within the comfort of the same room you share. All those late nights sharing ramen have meaning after all, as do the utter messes all of you make on Friday evenings as the boys try to practise, as does every Saturday night performance and every Sunday afternoon spent trying to watch the same movie on a tiny phone screen.
“How about we each look for inspiration?” Jaemin pipes up, eyes still a little lost.
Everyone turns to him and he straightens ever so slightly. “Me and Jeno can come up with a beat, (name) and Renjun can look for a melody and Donghyuck—”
“Can fuck off?” Renjun suggests helpfully.
Donghyuck pouts, crossing his arms. “Hey I’m—”
“Yeah, maybe Donghyuck can fuck off,” Jaemin says, fighting a smile. You raise an eyebrow, wondering which one of Donghyuck’s antics finally got on Jaemin’s nerves.
“This is harassment,” Donghyuck mutters before sinking into the couch beside Renjun. “Well, good for me! I get a day off—”
“No, you don’t,” Jaemin disproves. “You’re cleaning up this place.”
Donghyuck lets out a gasp. “All by myself?”
“Well, you trashed the place all by yourself,” Jeno reasons.
You tune out the bickering for a few moments. There are important matters at hand and no one seems to be listening to you. You play with your fingers absentmindedly when the thought arrives that maybe you should declare your secret little project. The song you wrote with Renjun in mind, that is. You should admit that it’s really just a nicer way of saying you wrote a song for him.
Astounding, isn’t it? This should be the part where you feel your pulse quicken. It’s just a song and the nights spent with him on the keyboards, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes has given you a head full of rhythm and song. It’s just a song.
You’d do anything for a good song.
But first, you need your audio converter fixed. The damn thing’s been generating noise all on its own, when it’s clearly your job.
“I need to go to Yongsan,” you say, picking up your bag. “We can find inspiration along the way, can’t we Renjun?”
“Why do we need to go—”
“Oh, get me some replacement strings for my guitar,” Donghyuck chirps.
“And a new pair of drumsticks,” Jeno says, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. You sigh. He really needs to stop breaking those. Where do drummers get such unparalleled rage on a drum set?
You walk over to the door before turning back and sending a pointed look at Renjun.
“I… have to?” he asks, and the look in his eyes almost makes you pity him. If anything, he’s having it worse than the rest of you are, with balancing the weekly gigs and practising for his piano recitals, though he never studies like the rest. You feel sorry but clearly, not enough.
“Yes,” you reply hurriedly. “Quick, get up, come on, we’re wasting time.”
“Okay, okay! Don’t pull my shirt!”
It’s so easy to get Renjun to do things these days. You bite back a smile as he fixes his collar, features still disgruntled by your (over)enthusiasm. His bag is cuter than you thought for someone who dresses punk (“It’s not punk,” he’d snapped, after re-dyeing his hair yet again.), with three different moomin keychains hanging against a baby blue hue.
You should know better than to let yourself think about someone so much.
The subway is absolutely lovable when it isn’t rush hour.
Skyscrapers nearly aren’t as looming as they are on rainy days, but you make your way through a still busy city, the heart of it beating like a snare drum with each passing moment. A little rain cannot stop Seoul.
Renjun walks beside you explaining how you should really look into this new underground artist you’ve already listened to three times this week because of him. He never seems to understand that you are, in fact, capable of remembering the things he says.
“I wrote a song about you,” you say abruptly.
Very smooth.
Renjun raises an eyebrow. “Like as a gift? A fan song? I’m so flatter—”
“No, stupid,” you interrupt, shifting your eyes upon irrelevant surrounding details. “It’s not about you. I just thought you’d like it.”
You pause.
“Yeah, it’s a little bit about you. A gift for joining. You can sing it to yourself in the shower or something.”
“You know, I feel really offended when you call me stupid.”
You glare at him. His ears are tinged red but right now, you’re a little more than done with his insults. Sure, you make mistakes—like dropping a full open can of soda on your own lap or submitting the wrong assignment to the wrong professor—but at least you’re not cynical Huang Renjun, incapable of making mistakes at all. It would be much more infuriating if you hadn’t seen Renjun drooling in his sleep or vigorously wipe at his nose after having snacks too spicy for his own good. You suppress a retort.
You reach the subway entrance taking slower steps than usual; but time is not a constraint here.
“It’s not a diss track, is it?” Renjun asks, suddenly doubtful.
You can’t help your laugh (and horrifically, snorts), in turn evoking a smile in Renjun.
“No, it isn’t,” you assure, before grabbing his wrist and skipping down the steps, Renjun’s panicked voice yelling at you to slow down.
“Can you not do that?” he complains, massaging his wrist at the subway platform.
“You made it through without tripping,” you reason, sticking your tongue out at him.
He reaches out to flick your forehead but you cover it just in time, a grin blooming across both your faces at this childish playfight. The train arrives with an almost soundless screech and you hop on slowly with anticipation in your footsteps.
“So what is it about?” Renjun asks, leaning forward to rest his elbows against his knees.
“You,” you respond, nonchalant.
“Very informative.”
The noise of the trains keeps the moment engaged, chuffing throughout as busy as they are.
Renjun lets out a barely audible gasp. “It’s not a- It’s not a love song, is it?”
You laugh, amused.
“Renjun, I knew you were arrogant but not this arrogant,” you tease.
He flushes hotly, and there’s that feeling again—that maybe you’re wrong. Maybe you don’t have anything else to hang on to and music is the only ledge left.
You wrinkle your nose before shaking yourself off the feeling. Rainy days always do this.
“Besides,” you say, “I’m still going to score you that hot date with star pianist number one, aren’t I?”
“Not number one,” he begins before hesitating. “That’s… not necessary but thanks.”
You punch him swiftly and he responds with an oof, clutching the ball of his shoulder.
“Don’t be shy,” you complain. “That’s not fun.”
“Well, I’m not fun,” he retorts. “I don’t need to be. I like having a working brain.”
You send him an exaggerated hurt look, hand reaching to pull at his cheek before it gets swatted away. Somehow, in this exact moment, you find a new tune and it doesn’t seem to be the end of your search. You contemplate saving it in your voice memos but you figure a noisy subway train is the last place to record. Besides, you don’t want to lose the look in Renjun’s eyes when he’s talking about how impressive the new relocated concert hall is.
“It’s called Not Feeling Spring,” you say when the train doors open to your station.
Renjun raises an eyebrow, somewhat disbelieving, although you’re not sure of what.
“You’ve definitely packed some insults in there,” he accuses.
You look at him, defeated. “Trust me.”
“Sorry,” he mumbles.
Step, step, splash.
“Ew,” Renjun says, shaking his foot after landing on a particularly damp part of the sidewalk. They really should have evened out the path when laying the pavement. But unfortunately for Renjun, he’s already stepped onto rainwater in bright yellow converse.
It’s not just his shoes that look like daisies could bloom over them either—there’s paint over his denim jacket in pictures you’re aware that Renjun himself painted. A nice little touch, but not a very smart choice for a garment. How unlike him, you think to yourself when you hear him sigh and complain about the weather.
“So this is your famous shop?” Renjun asks, eyeing the discoloured walls of the store by the shop.
“You’re doing your thing again,” you reply, face souring.
He looks baffled. “What thing?”
“Your thing. The one where you act all cynical.”
“I’m not cynical.” He crosses his arms.
“Great, you’re even cynical about being cynical.”
Inside is, of course, as warm as ever. The walls are vibrant red, in stark contrast with the exterior and you think you see Renjun’s face grow pinkish. You smile at the man behind the counter, in his late fifties and smile still somehow as bright as yours.
“What’s the problem, dear?” he asks, glancing at your laptop. “You know I can’t help with software issues.”
“I know,” you say, “But I’ve tried every guide on the internet and there’s still unnecessary noise.”
He clicks around your screen for a few seconds.
“Have you tried getting a better mic?”
“Uh.”
Renjun snickers beside you before promptly apologizing at the two pairs of eyes on him. You didn’t bring him here just to embarrass yourself in front of him. Your cheeks flush as you tell the man you’ll come another day with your mic, before heading to the supplements aisle. Renjun follows you quietly, silent laughter yet still etched over his face and he looks away when you glare at him.
“Are you sure you wanna buy the wooden drumsticks?” Renjun asks, picking up the carbon fibre ones instead.
“Jeno loves the wooden ones,” you defend. “And you really think those are within my budget?”
Renjun shrugs, keeping them back in place.
“Feels like I’m shopping for babies,” he mutters.
There’s a second’s pause before he straightens, a particular discomfort in his being. “Not- Not like my babies or something. I- I meant—”
“I know what you meant,” you say, trying very hard to hold in your laughter.
“I don’t like that face you’re making.”
“You don’t always have to explain yourself,” you smile before heading to the counter.
The scent of rain makes you nostalgic. You step outside with Renjun and into the sound of rain against pavement. It’s wet and damp, and your hair clings to your skin in that horrific discomfort of humidity, truly one of the worst cruelties of rain. You make a face but an idea strikes you smack across the forehead.
You gasp.
“This can be our stage!” you declare, spreading your arms.
Renjun pulls your arms down. “Don’t block the sidewalk!”
“Sorry.”
You shove your bag onto Renjun, bewildering him even further. The sleeves of the jacket he rolled up, fall into place again as he raises an eyebrow at you.
“This,” you say, waving your arms about, “Should be a stage.”
“Huh?”
Renjun looks unconvinced at your flailing and you sigh.
“The rain!” you say, trying to sound as enthusiastic as you can. “Isn’t it romantic? You’ve never thought what it would be like playing in the rain?”
“Uh, inconvenient?”
You groan. “Come on! Picture it for a second.”
You give it a moment before showing him what you mean. Renjun bursts into laughter at your air guitar performance, suddenly unaware of the pit-a-pat.
“It would be nice,” he says, his teeth poking against his lips. He places the bags under the shaded entrance of the store before stepping into the drizzle.
Pitter, patter.
Renjun flashes you a goofy smile, shaking the water out of his hair only for the rain to come in stronger. With raindrops caught on eyelashes, you can only think of the soft, rising melodies that come in movie scenes like these, except it’s a lot more uncomfortable than they show it to be. You smoothen your hair, getting slightly frizzy due to the raindrops. You’ve always wanted to do things out of line and out of regularity and it’s not just because of the price sticker spelling ‘youth’ that clings to your back—but now, is it selfish to just want to stay under the rain?
In a way it feels just the same as ever; like singing barefoot on an asphalt road, cooling rains and people around, without a care each. You tell Renjun about the time you were stranded by the bus stop under heavy downpour for so long, you decided to walk home with pneumonia a step behind you and he tells you that you’re an idiot. It’s nothing unusual but it makes you smile when he laughs at you.
The rain slows again before you can start to shiver, chest rising and falling with each breath that fills your lungs.
“I have a song!” you declare, eyes shining. “A love song. We’ve never done a love song.”
“A love song?” Renjun asks, laughing almost. “You want to write a radio love song? Why?”
“Because, Huang Renjun, there’s not a thing in the world that isn’t made for love.”
Renjun pauses before wrinkling his nose. “Don’t preach me.”
The clap of thunder startles the two of you out of calm. It’s not so much the screams that left your mouths simultaneously as the looks you get from passersby. Renjun looks at you the same time as you look at him, his ears red and eyes nervous.
“Lightning doesn’t- Lightning doesn’t strike in the middle of the city, does it?” Renjun asks, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted, like a hare stranded in the middle of a busy road.
“I don’t know!” You respond, pulling him by the sleeve to the nearest cover. “I don’t want to know.”
Renjun grabs your hand and you realize with a thump in your heart the effect of it. He pulls you to the side, saving your jeans from the fate of getting splashed by muddy water courtesy of an oncoming car.
“Ooh, quick reflex,” you say, despite the clanging of cymbals inside your ribcage.
He shrugs, picking up the bags and shoving yours to your chest.
“Ow?”
“Don’t look at me like that. You know why.”
“You know, you’re not as grumpy as I thought you were. You’re still petty, though.”
“Thanks.”
When you’re back to the bandroom, you find Donghyuck snoring on the couch with an even more worn out Jaemin sitting cross legged on the floor and his head against Donghyuck's knee. Jeno looks like he’s in a world of his own, tapping away at his phone in a game he seems to be losing at.
“Why are you guys wet?” Jaemin asks, cracking an eye open. “Had some life-changing experience?”
“Not really.” You shrug. “Why do you guys look dead?”
“I am dead,” Donghyuck mumbles in his sleep to which Jaemin shakes his head.
“He didn’t even do the entire cleaning…”
You hope the skip in your steps isn’t too obvious. You have a song and this time, it feels pure in a way that you haven’t made before.
“I hope you guys came up with a beat,” you call.
“Uh, about that—”
“I have a new song!” you announce bouncing on the balls of your feet.
Your declaration is met with a bunch of smiles. Soon enough, everyone in the room is up and to their positions in a matter of minutes.
Music isn’t about being eye-catching, considering the eyes have nothing to do with it anyway. You signal Renjun who in turn, clears his throat.
A strum of guitar string. Four notes on the keys. Bass. A beat on the drums.
“One. Two. Ah, one, two, three, four!”
The cafeteria is jam packed at three a.m so it’s a good thing you brought Renjun here an hour early. So, your top secret, full resistance, avant-garde mission? Your new song and the one for Renjun, of course.
“So this is top secret,” you whisper when he sits down from across you.
“I’m sure it is,” he snickers.
You pass your notebook to him, scribbles neater than usual. (That’s only because you rewrote the song in a new page.) You start your laptop, waiting for the screen to load as Renjun goes over the lines.
“My dreams and I don’t get along,” Renjun reads aloud before furrowing his brows.
Ah, I hate people.
I hate my friends too.
And I love saying that which isn’t true.
“Oh, very funny, (name),” Renjun scorns, crossing his arms. “Is that what you think of me?”
You chuckle to yourself. Maybe it was a little petty, but you love the look on Renjun’s face when he’s annoyed, nerves a second away from being completely fried. Just for fun. This was just for fun.
Somewhere along, however, you can’t deny the essence of him you’d so hopelessly wanted to capture in the melody, in rhythm and timbre, orchestral almost. It’s each note of the piano he plays to himself late at night in the bandroom, each featherlight hit on the cymbal and the song you hum to yourself on the bus ride to classes every morning.
It’s a love song.
You break into a sudden coughing fit at the thought, Renjun flinching before offering you his bottle of water. Somehow, the gentle hand on your back trying to ease you gives you yet another reason to support your unwanted epiphany. That’s just ridiculous. It’s something natural between friends, isn’t it? Yet, you’d gag at the idea of writing Donghyuck into a song.
You calm down and meet Renjun’s eyes, the glint of something familiar making you pause.
“Water?” he offers, and you straighten.
“I had the stupidest thought,” you say, trying to laugh it off.
You can’t do it. You can’t make light of it with him.
“When do you not?” he says, a soft smile on his face.
You smile awkwardly in response, avoiding his eyes as you rub circles on the soft flesh between your thumb and forefinger.
It’s quiet, much more than not, distant buzzing of the 3 a.m. university cafeteria crowds drifting through the space between you and him.
“Do you ever- Do you ever think about doing it?” Renjun asks.
You blink before feeling warmth on your cheeks.
“Doing what, Renjun? That’s a little too private to ask. I mean, I could answer, of c—”
It doesn’t take long for him to burn bright vermillion at the cheeks.
“I- I didn’t say that,” he defends, stuttering over the words. “I was talking about making music. Do you ever think about it or do you just do it?”
“Oh,” you respond intelligently, the embarrassment making you flush harder. Funny, you used to laugh the loudest at these sorts of mistakes. “I don’t- I don’t know. I think about it after I’ve… made it?”
You scratch the back of your head awkwardly.
“You… do like it, don’t you?” he asks, something akin to worry in his eyes.
You hum, smiling. “Of course I like it, Renjun.”
No. The truth is, you don’t even know how it makes you feel. The truth is, you do feel sick listening to your own song over and over again. Have you run far enough? Do you have to be running for this?
You seem scared. Is that what he wanted to tell you? You can’t be that easy to see through, you resist. When he held your hand earlier, could he feel it shake?
You’re so afraid that all of this is for naught that you can’t feel it anymore. You hardly make music for yourself, for no one else to hear. Is that what you wanted? When you wrote Not Feeling Spring, were you searching for something you desperately wanted or something you lost? You’re only twenty and you’re aging.
You snap yourself out of the whirlpool of questions to a drowsy Renjun playing with the bracelet around his wrist, lost in his own circle of thoughts.
“I wanted to give up on this,” he whispers suddenly. “I wanted to give up on music.”
You hold your breath till he looks at you, a strange sense of vulnerability that makes you want to reach over the table and share some of the warmth your palm offers.
You’ve already drawn the conclusion.
“You’re not alone,” you say, leaning in with the widest grin.
Renjun rolls his eyes. “Are you saying that to comfort me? It barely has any effect. Thanks, th—”
You shake your head, standing up abruptly and scrambling onto the tabletop. It’s the perfect time to be a little ridiculous. Renjun looks around, alarmed, tugging at you to get down which, unfortunately, draws even more attention.
“Raise your hand if you’ve ever wanted to give up on music!”
There’s a moment of pause before laughter erupts, followed by a few cheers and almost as many raised hands as you’d expected. Some of them tell you to get back to your date, or focus on completing overdue assignments—friends and friends of friends. They are music students, after all.
Renjun looks around the place, rosy hued in the face, though he isn’t as angry as you thought he’d be.
“I almost never started,” you say, giggling as you resume in your seat. “Giving up came so much later.”
Renjun laughs. You don’t even have to make music out of it.
“I tried to give up the piano,” he admits, still flushed. “But I couldn’t break the habit of playing against my desk. Even then.”
You smile, resting your chin against your palm. “That sounds just like you. Now tell me, when did you discover flumpool?”
Renjun frowns and you feel an uncharacteristic thump in your chest. You want to draw your finger against his cheeks and the space between his brows, against the strained lines—the thought of it much more scandalous than the action itself.
“I didn’t- My parents didn’t- ugh.” He hesitates. “Look, everyone hated my style of music. My parents, the neighbours, their dogs.
Your eyes soften as you sit up. “I’m sure they didn’t hate it—”
“No, trust me on this one.”
Suddenly the honey tint of his voice is dripping a dangerously low baritone. It doesn’t sound like him and it sends a shiver down your spine, a certain coldness you never thought would seep into you. It is the loneliness of curbed dreams, after all.
“I thought I should’ve given up on music altogether. Became, what, a doctor? A lawyer?” Renjun sighs. “Whatever I do, it shouldn’t be music, right?”
He heaves a sigh in sync with you. There’s a passing moment in between where you can clearly see the apple of his eye, shining a daunting amber and a warmth you can only feel over coffee tables in university cafeterias at midnight.
“But you’re here now because this is the closest you can be to music?” you offer, your smile sheepish.
Renjun laughs, your eyebrows furrowing as he tries to stop. “No. No, classical music was the last option on their list—but it was on the list.”
You smile, although it is small and gentle. And—unlike anything you’ve felt since you jumped onto the adulthood train.
“They like it now, though,” he beams, shoulders relaxing as if rid of a burden.“I mean- They said- They said they’re proud of me.”
When someone decides to confide their happiness to you, it is just as precious.
You look up, eyes bright as you finally get to ruffle his hair. “Well, I’m proud of you too!”
Renjun coughs indiscreetly, shaking his head before facing you. “Th-Thanks. It’s… good to hear.”
“Say it back,” you demand, making Renjun laugh.
“I’m… proud of you,” he says with rose-tinted cheeks.
The midnight chatter grows louder when the two of you pause. A symphony of voices through the area, higher pitches and lower, baritones and trebles. You wonder what people talk about most when you are quiet. You have friends—it’s not like you’re alone, per se. But everyone seems to be running, away from something or towards something. Your bones feel heavy for a second as you stir the coffee. Is it selfish to just want to get to know someone? Neither of you moving a muscle, with laughter that isn’t carried away by the wind.
“I didn’t think I’d be good at anything apart from classical,” he says, reluctance in his mouth. “Sorry about all that ruckus I caused when you asked me to join.”
You raise an eyebrow, nose wrinkling at the apology. “Renjun. It sucks when you apologize.”
He groans. “You’re really annoying, you know that? I was being nice.”
“I know,” you say, grinning. “It was all forgiven a long time ago. Can’t believe you had to say it out loud.”
“Oh, pardon me,” he says, voice rising. “I was taking into consideration your below average understanding of social cues.”
“You’re going to get smacked.”
That night, when you leave Renjun at the intersection to your respective dorms, you have yet another unwanted epiphany. He waves you goodbye with a smile, pale blue T-shirt hanging loose on his shoulders and you wave back as ardently as you can against your prominent heartbeat. Huang Renjun has the kindest eyes you’ve ever seen.
Some days, you take the bus together to and from classes. It’s not like the dorms are far but walks are considerably less fun when you’ve barely rubbed the sleep dust out of your eyes and class started ten minutes ago. Besides, you’re not letting the student bus pass go to waste.
Rattle. Rattle. Woosh.
You yawn and it quickly spreads to Renjun beside you. Classes are over and there’s no practice today. You can hear a popular song play through his earphones and tilt your head to look at him, a suppressed smile on your face. Renjun does a double take when he notices you, a little flustered as he quietly offers the other earbud and you put it on with a short word of thanks.
It is a track by one of Seoul’s favourite bands and you’re not going to lie, say you haven’t fallen prey to its charms. A catchy baseline, engaging drums and attractive vocals—you stop yourself. When was the last time you enjoyed a song without deconstructing it piece by piece? You sigh and Renjun shifts beside you, though no words part from his lips.
Absentmindedly, you find your head drawing nearer to his till they bump once and you startle away, only to laugh at each other. Is this another useless epiphany of yours? That Renjun has a lovely laugh—these are getting out of hand.
You look out the window instead, skyscrapers shiny and metallic as always and with little to offer. Unwittingly, a pout climbs onto your face at the prospect of feelings bubbling up right when you’re setting Renjun up on a date. He doesn’t know, of course. It’s meant to be a surprise and somehow, the little voice in your head won’t stop yelling at maximum volume inside your head about how wrong this is. Is it selfish? To an extent—nothing ever is purely selfless and you haven’t lived long enough to question. So why are you even bothering with this whole surprise?
Because you don’t want to think about the feelings. As if they’re things to be thought about. As if you can throw them away into the trash bin like a crumpled piece of paper.
An elderly couple boards the bus, sharing a large shopping bag as they take slow, careful steps over the aisle. Renjun responds almost at the same time you do, getting up so quickly Renjun has to hold on to the strap so as to not trip over you. The couple thanks you and you nod politely, trying not to bring attention to the earphones tangled around your necks.
You take a step closer in an attempt to separate the wires but it only makes you lose balance, Renjun clutching the cloth at your back so you don’t faceplant right into him. The other hand hangs overhead on the strap, grasping so tight his skin has turned red.
He glances at the old couple once, blood rushing to his cheeks at something and he turns his focus back to you.
“The- The wires- We should—”
Young love isn’t what this is. How silly. There’s enough of that all around.
“That’s what I was trying,” you interrupt. “Wait.”
You use your hands to pull the bud from your ear, trying to figure out how the loop even coiled this way. Renjun’s hand pushes against your waist at the sudden jerk, your soul almost leaving your body at the unexpected feeling of falling down. You breathe out, cheeks getting warmer. This isn’t quite uncomfortable, though.
When you look up to meet Renjun’s eyes, you feel something faint, a hint of something you can’t quite put your finger on.
“There,” you say, the wires all out of their miserable twining.
Renjun barely nods, the music still blasting loud and clear through the buds. His hand still holds the strap for balance, and the other still holds you, for reasons private.
There’s a warm flush over his face when he mumbles about crowded buses and the afternoon heat, eyes averted to every corner but you.
You laugh. Renjun is adorable when he least expects to be. And when you least expect him to be, he’s even terribly attractive. You swear by the way he’s looking at you, if you leaned in a little further, he’d let you kiss him.
Wait, what?
You sober up quickly, in a moment of clarity you do not wish to have. You’ve never felt the weight of the feelings this intense. Yours isn’t the name he should be calling out so affectionately. Her. Anyone else. You were so sure of it. Huang Renjun’s fleeting interest in romance doesn’t involve you—cannot involve you.
That’s why you’re doing him (and yourself) a favour. Besides, you promised it anyway, didn’t you?
You gulp.
When did you start explaining yourself for everything you do?
Step, screech, step.
“Where the fuck are you even taking me?” Renjun complains from behind you, light on his foot. “You said it’s not too far away.”
“It’s a surprise!” You stop walking to cross your arms.
“I hate it when you say that.”
How would he react? You think he’ll get a little angry, maybe scowl at you or even yell a little. You haven’t been able to look him in the eye longer than two seconds for about a week now.
“Ta-da!”
You stretch your arms to point towards the new cafe in town. Renjun looks at you and then the cafe and back again.
“You’re taking me on a coffee date?”
You choke on air, coughing before you can clear your throat and clarify.
“Not- Not me. Remember I promised you a date with—”
“No.”
“Yes! Wait, is that disbelieving no or are you saying you’re not going to go?”
Renjun closes his eyes and sighs, as if dealing with a toddler. “I’m not going. Why didn’t you say anything? I’m not prepared or anything!”
Something takes a tumble and falls inside your chest. You smile at him nevertheless.
“Don’t be shy now. She’s waiting, come on.”
Renjun shifts his weight from foot to foot, but it seems equally uncomfortable on each. He peers intently at you, looking up and down your face before pressing his lips together.
“Have fun,” you wish.
You push Renjun towards the door and he hesitates, some part of you expecting a little more resistance. He shrugs, although he seems to be holding back a smile. This isn’t the time, you tell yourself.
You turn on your heel before you lose your final excuse to be able to say that you are not completely enamored with Huang Renjun.
The afternoon would be more peaceful if it weren’t for Donghyuck and Renjun yelling at each other. This time, you’re not to blame.
“That’s not how you tie a bow tie!” Donghyuck complains, though Renjun won’t let him anywhere near.
“I know you’re trying to get back at me for drawing on your face last Saturday,” Renjun yells back. “But this is the pre-annual concert. You’re not fucking anything up.”
Donghyuck grumbles before settling down. Four music performance majors and yet none of them know how to do a bow tie—if it weren’t for you, Renjun might have ended up with his usual askew one. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking, and you’d just rather not look at him too long anyway.
Formal white shirt, a much debated black bow tie and polished black dress shoes on Renjun aren’t strange to look at—in fact, they quite suit him when, despite its striking colour, his hair is parted neatly to the side. But they’re all so out of place in the bandroom, monochrome against messes, that you start to wonder if you simply think too much about him. That all of his colours and melodies are just there for you to notice.
It’s not true, of course.
But when did you become a cynic?
“I’m going out,” Donghyuck says, huffing, “Why are they taking so long to buy ramen?”
Oh no. No, no, no. You try to mask your panic. Is one person enough to check up on Jaemin and Jeno? Would it be weird if you left too? Before you can answer those questions, you and Renjun are the only ones left in the room. You stand awkwardly by the couch, Renjun a few feet away, smoothing out the creases on his shirt.
You clear your throat, bringing his attention to you.
Nice going.
“So how was your date?”
You had to ask that, didn’t you?
The voice in your head has never been so loud before. When your question goes unanswered, you look up from the highly interesting floorboards to Renjun trying very hard to fight a snort.
“We talked about the recitals, extra lessons. Joked about you being an idiot.”
You furrow your eyebrows. “What?”
“Chaerim’s not interested in guys.” Renjun laughs. “I thought you knew!”
There’s a pause.
“Wait, you were serious about setting me up with her?”
You stare a little too intensely at the space between your feet. Why would you choose now of all times to be coy? You keep yourself from swearing out loud.
“I- I didn’t know, okay?”
You feel the heat over your cheeks, the sound of everything other than your own heartbeat drowning out. A few more seconds pass and you worry more.
“Don’t set me up on dates,” Renjun says, a sigh leaving his lips. “It’ll never work out.”
“What? Why?”
Renjun falters only to cover it up. “I- I… Why do you keep avoiding me?”
You can’t answer that.
“Setting me up on a date, never looking at me when you talk to me—are you going by the book or something?”
You hold your breath. He’s not misunderstanding and it only makes matters worse.
“All that because you don’t want to be in love with me?”
“Renjun, that’s not—”
“So what is it?”
You look up from your restless fingers and regret it almost immediately. The way Renjun looks at you, it damn near breaks your heart. His nose is a pale shade of red, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down with undecided words.
“Am I- Am I dreaming everything up? Just tell me you don’t like me. I thought I made myself obvious.”
You can feel your pulse against your eardrums, ready to burst open any second.
“Renjun. It’s not about this,” you say, voice strangely low. “It’s about music—It’s always about music. I can’t risk anything.”
“Risk? What risk? You’re afraid you’re going to stop making music when you’re with me?”
“No—”
“You just want your songs on the Billboard charts?
“And what if I do? I just want to be heard—”
You can barely breathe at the lack of distance between the two of you. Renjun looks straight into your eyes and you remember why your heart has been hammering in the first place.
“So it isn’t about music.”
You fall silent. It’s not wrong to want to succeed. But it’s never been about that. You were preparing yourself for a race while you repeated your love for it that was never there. Music is not a race and so, it is not the race you love.
“I didn’t want to be rich or famous,” Renjun says, voice lower than usual. “I don’t want to be rich or famous.”
But a musician does not want to be forgotten, does he?
For once, Renjun is fearless and you are not.
“There are worse things,” Renjun says, breath against your cheek and a rapid pulsing in your wrists. You look from his eyes to lips before breathing out slowly, eyelids growing heavy despite yourself.
The sudden bang makes the two of you jump away from each other.
Donghyuck kicks the door open, hands occupied with steaming instant ramen cups and Jeno walks in with the sprite.
“Jaemin’s paying and we forgot our wallets,” Jeno offers an explanation when you raise an eyebrow.
You clear your throat awkwardly as the two scrutinize you with eyes you’re not yet ready to meet. You know you’ll never hear the end of this and better yet, you can pretend it never happened.
“Aren’t you supposed to get going?” Jeno asks, struggling to balance this month’s entire supply of ramen while Donghyuck holds the top of the pile.
Renjun responds with a soft ‘yeah’, eyes glancing at you once before he grabs his coat.
“I’ll see you for practice then.”
With that, the sounds inside your chest draw to a deafening close.
You’d think Doyoung would perform with his own band at his brother’s wedding.
(“I don’t want to work on the day my brother gets married.”
“I thought you work as a bartender?”
“Oh, dear.”)
You’re not complaining, of course. The longer you spend in the bandroom, the more suffocated you feel. You can’t meet Renjun’s eyes and neither can he meet yours. You rejected him, for fuck’s sake. It cannot get any more awkward than that. Any distraction will do.
This might be the first time you’ve been to a wedding on a Thursday night. At the very least, you’re happy about it being an outdoor wedding, the cool night air refreshing you the moment you step into the garden. It’s fairly large and you know Doyoung’s brother is an actor, but it never really struck you how wealthy that meant.
“There’s a chocolate fountain?!” Donghyuck gasps, walking towards it before Jaemin grabs him by the collar.
“Stage. We’re being called.”
Donghyuck massages his neck before he decides to give everyone an unnecessary pep talk.
“Look, Renjun, you better sing like that’s your ex, who you’re still in love with, getting married,” Donghyuck turns to advise a deadpanning Renjun.
“I- what? You should do that yourself.”
You smile at them encouragingly, smacking Donghyuck a little too hard on the back (you need payback for him “borrowing” your lunch on Monday) and stand at the sidelines. Donghyuck’s guitar seems to be the brightest thing in the venue, followed by Renjun’s hair. Unfortunately for Jeno, they couldn’t get the whole drum set in and the puppy dog look on his face when he sees the box-shaped cajón might have affected you some other day.
They perform as usual, if not more enthusiastic to be in front of a crowd that isn’t drunk or worn out or both. The love songs you wrote came to be useful, after all. The muse of them, however, stands out even now.
This time, your heart skips a beat to meet Renjun’s eyes. And he doesn’t take them off you the entire performance.
The soft vibrato of his voice doesn’t fade easy, the crowd clapping along to the song with encouraging laughter. You move to the drinks table—it’s a good thing the wedding has a no kids rule because there’s alcohol you haven’t heard of at the bar table. Or maybe it isn’t a good thing. You’d love to see the look on Doyoung’s face when some rebellious twelve year-old chugs a shot of vodka. The thought makes you giggle.
You keep your word, even if you were drunk when you’d said it. You didn’t drink at any of the gigs, mostly because Doyoung wouldn’t offer anything for free, but a deal’s a deal. This doesn’t count, does it?
You take the shot after a few moments of contemplation. You’d ordered it on impulse and whatever dare of whim you have left in you.
Unbeknownst to you, the songs had stopped about five minutes ago, enough time for Renjun and the rest to appear at your side.
“Doyoung never said there’d be alcohol,” Donghyuck says, not trying very hard to hide the sparkles in his eyes.
Renjun doesn’t say a word, not even at the obvious flush over your cheeks from the drinks.
“I need to go to the washroom,” you say, wobbling as you stand.
“Woah, (name),” Jaemin says, steadying you. “Take someone with you.”
“I’ll go.”
You avoid Renjun’s eyes, even now. Looks like shame isn’t as easy to wash away as it seems.
You can’t hear anything apart from your pulse, a rather disarming thing to have to listen to when it’s for long enough. You walk wordlessly to the building, locating the washroom after a few twists and turns and Renjun waits patiently for you outside.
It’s always bizarre to see yourself in the mirror of a public washroom, especially with alcohol in your system and a flush over your cheeks that you think makes you look cute. You rinse your face and dry it before you exit.
Renjun leans back against the wall, eyes glazed over in thoughts he spills only occasionally. He looks gentle in the fairly lit hallway, under lemon-coloured lights.
“Renjun,” you call absentmindedly.
He straightens immediately and for the first time in a while, you stare at each other for longer than four seconds.
“I don’t want you to feel awkward around me,” you begin. “I didn’t- I didn’t mean—”
“Cut it out.”
You feel a drop in your heart at the harshness in his tone. Even so, you don’t feel any less drawn to him.
“Don’t be like that,” you say, voice nearing a whine. “You know I’m not any good at this. I… I have so much work to do.”
“Are you so insecure that you can't trust yourself?” he hisses, and somehow the truth of it doesn’t lessen the euphoria of proximity with him.
“You have pretty eyes, Renjun,” you say, but his eyes are not what you’re looking at.
Renjun looks down, sighing out heavily. “Stop this, (name). Don’t play.”
You smile. “This isn’t a drama, you know?”
It really isn’t, but the touch you're craving has been collecting, drip drip drip, and now it’s ready to boil over in a climax befitting any stupid drama. There should be a soundtrack to go with it, right? Renjun’s face so near to yours, lips full and pink, and heartbeat erratic under dim lights. Temptation has never been a sin to you. Then, what are you afraid of?
For a moment, Arctic Monkey’s Snap Out of It loops in your head.
“Can I kiss you?” you ask, the last shred of your senses fallen apart.
He falls silent, at a loss for words you don’t want to hear.
You can’t blame the alcohol. It’s not that you wouldn’t do this sober—it’s that you would definitely do this sober, and all would be ruined just like that. So now, while you’re under the thinly veiled excuse of being drunk, you might as well say it.
“I want to kiss you,” you repeat, bolder.
Oh, sudden proximity can make you aware of so many things. For instance, Renjun has changed his cologne, less minty and more citrus. You aren’t even looking at him when you lean closer, pressing your lips softly and yet carelessly against his. You feel returned pressure and for a moment, the wash of numbness.
Renjun pulls you away by the shoulder, eyes wide in panic.
“I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“Why are you apologizing? God, I hate you. I could listen to you speaking forever.”
You bury your face in Renjun’s neck and breathe in. He gives in almost too soon, a hand gently resting against the back of your head while his arm wraps around your waist.
“Let’s get you home,” he whispers.
You feel him shift, the rhythm of his pulse loud in his jugular, and somehow it makes you breathe a sigh of relief. The night fades little by little into the chatter of crowds, to the the hum of a car engine and finally, to the inevitable quiet of your own bedroom.
It’s a Friday. They’re supposed to be nice.
Of course, it would be were it not for a list of things. One: your fading hangover. Two: the vague regret of a drunk kiss. Three: your friends you can’t tell a word to. You might just die of shame before the autumnal existential dread settles in.
“Do you guys have any idea whose number this is?” Donghyuck asks, holding the handkerchief open for the rest of you to see. “I don’t want to be accidentally related to Doyoung hyung.”
The night is bleeding into the evening outside as Jaemin stands up to flip the light switches. You stay curled up at one side of the couch, Renjun by the keys as he tries to figure out a tune and a state of calm that would be perfect if you weren’t falling apart inside. The bandroom always made you feel at ease, but it doesn't seem to be working its charm now.
“You drink too much,” Jaemin states. “You would’ve remembered if you didn’t have an entire bottle of soju.”
“I wasn’t the only one,” he defends, sending you a pointed look. You roll your eyes. Donghyuck never did learn to take the blame.
“Didn’t Renjun and (name) leave early?” Jeno asks innocently. “What were you guys doing for so long by the washroom?”
Renjun presses on several of the keys at a force too hard, the haphazard symphony bringing everyone’s attention to him.
He awkwardly clears his throat. “Home—the dorms, er. We went back. Taeil hyung drove us.”
You don’t know about the atmosphere, but you could definitely cut something with a knife right now. Your eyes shift from person to person, nothing unusual about them except for the two of you.
“Does anyone want to come get ramen? I’m hungry,” Jaemin suggests quietly.
Jeno shrugs, getting up.
“I just had a cup of ramen,” Donghyuck begins before breaking into a smile. “Too much ramen can never hurt.”
“I’ll pass,” you say, ready to fall asleep any moment, if it somehow alleviates the messy scribbles in your head.
“Me too,” Renjun says, back to playing out the tunes softly.
Your fingers tap against the armrest of the couch, occasionally scratching it out of boredom. The atmosphere is still just as thick but you can't say much about it hanging there.
“You’re not sleeping,” Renjun says suddenly, more of a statement than a question. “You look tired.”
“Yeah.” It’s all you can manage.
“Is your hangover gone?”
You cough when you try to answer, getting more nervous with each passing moment.
Renjun slowly walks towards the coffee table, picking up the bottle of water to offer it to you. You utter a short ‘thanks’ and before he can get back, you tug at his sleeve. Your breathing is sharp but you don’t react much when he sits beside you, legs outstretched in front of him.
“Your roots are showing,” you note, hand involuntarily reaching out before you stop yourself.
Renjun sighs. “What’s wrong? You don’t- You don’t have to—”
He clears his throat.
“—You don’t have to pretend around me.”
There’s a rustle of cloth as he shifts to turn to you, eyes concerned when they look over.
“I’m just...sad,” you admit, the feeling weighing down when you do. “What, you never have days like these?”
Everyone does, don’t they? The truth is, sometimes you get a little sick listening to your songs. If you don’t hate it at least once, is it worth it at all?
The monthly breakdowns have taken a hard turn now that you don’t have much to do. No exams, no more weekly gigs due to Odd Fruit’s renovation and most importantly, hardly any inspiration. You don’t know how to do things unless you’re on the run. It’s so stupid.
You speak of dreams and yet, yours feel void.
“I do. A lot, some weeks.”
Renjun hesitates. You know he’s dying to talk about last night, he’s never been the sort to let feelings rot inside his stomach. But how do you tell him that despite knowing life’s full of ups and downs, no one’s bothered to explain to you which is which? You’ve never lived life with clarity.
Sometimes life hands you tangerines instead of lemons. Sometimes they’re still as sour.
You look back at Renjun, heart churning with feelings you don’t understand. From wide eyes to his full lips, there’s a way you can’t help but stare. It wasn’t the alcohol—you still want to kiss him. Maybe you should start with an apology, maybe those are meant to be said out loud sometimes.
“I’m sorry I… I ‘m sorry I kissed you,” you say, finally. “Without warning.”
You wonder how you turned into this. Head over heels for something that might not even be real.
“I’m not mad,” he mumbles, “Just don’t go around kissing strangers.”
You let out a short laugh, rubbing your arm. It’s not like you to explain yourself but for him, you’d spill every single thought that crosses your head. Does he know that? You’d never let him but now—you can’t say you mind.
Quiet.
“I- I may not always know what I’m doing, Renjun,” you start. “I want things and I don’t know how to get them. Sometimes I don’t even know what I truly want.”
There’s a short pause when Renjun draws nearer.
“You want to make music,” he says with certainty, gaze trailing over your eyes, then nose, then lips. “You want to have fun…”
Your heartbeat quickens despite everything.
“...And right now, you want to kiss me.”
It’s partly the confidence, and partly the fact that his lips are less than three inches from yours, that you close the gap without hesitation.
It’s different—of course, it’s different this time. There’s no goddamn alcohol and the amount of clarity you can taste with your mouths pressed together is more than you’ve ever had. All the sounds in the world fall silent, replaced by the rhythm of your lips moving against his. Renjun’s hair is soft and he hums when you run your fingers through them, not song enough but still full of melody.
You pull apart after a few minutes, breathing heavily before you push your lips against him again, rising to keep your leg on either side of him. For a moment, there’s a sinking feeling and then a soaring one, and it evens out to the mellow drumming of your heart against your chest as Renjun holds your waist with the same delicate desire as ever.
The second time you pull apart, Renjun breaks into the widest smile you’ve ever seen on him. You can’t help but reciprocate, burying your head against his shoulder.
“I think you should get off me.”
You pull back, frowning severely.
“Oh, that’s very romantic,” you huff, eyebrows furrowed as you move to sit beside him, crossing your arms.
“Hey.”
You look at him and he takes your hand in his, thumb rubbing over the back. Somehow, the gesture calms a part of you down, a part that hasn’t been calm for a very long time. You smile without realizing, leaning in for another kiss when the door slams open.
You yelp, clutching Renjun’s hand harder with just about the same force he does.
“Jeno.”
You turn around to see Jaemin glaring at Jeno on his knee, Donghyuck fallen over his leg and both of their faces scrunched in pain. Jaemin shoots the two of you an embarrassed smile, scratching the back of his head.
“Did you guys know this room isn’t all that soundproof? I can’t believe the neighbours didn’t complain.”
The tip of Renjun’s ears flare red, and he points an accusing finger at the three of them.
“You were spying on us!”
Jaemin clears his throat but Donghyuck snorts before he can say anything.
“You’re still holding hands, lover boy.”
The statement flusters Renjun further but he doesn’t let go.
“Look, did the two of you think we’re stupid?” Donghyuck continues. “God, we thought your pining romance would, like, break up our band or something.”
You flush deeper, averting your eyes.
“You cry at romantic comedies,” Renjun provokes.
Donghyuck stutters something incomprehensive before crossing his arms indignantly.
“We’re glad you’re dating now!” Jaemin butts in. “Ah, I can’t wait for all the love songs. The two of you do great on those!”
Renjun turns a brighter shade of red. You’re not going to be the one to tell Jaemin that he’s not helping at all but you sigh instead, resting your forehead against Renjun’s shoulder.
“Ugh,” Donghyuck makes a gagging sound. “Does this mean you’re going to be all heart eyes in here? Right in front of my innocent eyes?”
He shuts up when he receives four glares all at once, the air turning dry.
“I’m guessing you guys didn’t buy any ramen,” Renjun says, sighing.
“Shall we go?” you ask, looking at him.
He nods, smiling at you.
“You guys don’t mind us crashing your date, do you?” Jaemin says, wrapping an arm each around the two of you.
“I’m not complaining.” You shrug.
“I heard there’s a new flavour. Tastes like crap apparently,” Renjun says.
There’s collective laughter and Renjun beams, walking over to the door with you in tow. Every once in a while, you don’t mind peeling off the layers of a tangerine, especially since winter is near.
You were right, Renjun did change his perfume to something more citrus-y. It’s the little things that build up in simplicity and it’s the little things that give everything flavour, from songs to journeys.
Crackle. Shrrk. Rustle.
“Dream,” you say, the noodles slipping through the chopsticks.
The others look at you quizzically, as if you’d suggested the most ridiculous thing ever.
“That’s the name. Our band!”
Under the convenience store lights, it somehow makes sense—and that’s one of the only moments of clarity you need.
#nct dream scenarios#nct renjun#cznnet#neowritingsnet#renjun x reader#nct dream x reader#nct dream imagines#renjun fluff#nct dream fluff#nct scenarios#nct imagines#nct dream#moonwrites#anyway hope you guys have fun this is way longer than i intended for it to be i am mad#and i know i only recommended songs from idol bands but it's always good to check out the krock scene lol!!#rock band!au#tw:alcohol#so this wont show up on tags heart been broke so many times </3
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hey there, stranger. vi
one, two, three, four, five
an: two months after you first met mat, you’re back in the same little coffee shop, in much heavier moods than last time. // So after last chapter, i'm sure you're all upset about what's happening to our favorite cute new couple. What began as a cutesly fluffy fic is turning into something a lot more serious and tough. Because all relationships come with hardships, and working through them together is something they're gonna have to do. Another thing, please comment and send asks about this story!! Even though this isn't the biggest fic I've planned so far, I'm putting all my love into these characters and their situations hit close to home, and I'd really appreciate some feedback.
warnings: mentions of domestic problems and violence (mostly verbal and mental), relationship doubts, talks of fear and self-worth
tagging some lovely people: @sunflowertimothee @deleausvp @dunnwithlyfe @smit41 @softboybarzal @fallinallincurls @matbaerzal @brokeninsidebutnobodyknows @hockeyhughes11 @folkloreflyers @nazdaddy
word count: 2.3k
You hadn't always been afraid of love.
But maybe you had, for as long as you could remember.
It began with your parents. They were unhappy, they argued, they fought, they pulled others into their arguments and eventually drew so far from each other that they were distant and cold to even their children. They seperated, violently and in the dead of the night, in the middle of your school year, and threw your life into a rollercoaster. It scared you. Made you feel, even as a young kid, that love just wasn't something that happened. Relationships didn't exist, love didn't exist without violence and arguments and fights. A perfect love was just not what you believed in. And even though it's true that every couple has their arguments, you believed that the fights were common. The yelling, the jealousy, the coldness, the raised voices, the fear.
The last time you truly, honestly were in a relationship, it was your highschool sweetheart. If he could be called that. You were 17 when you got together, you got in trouble together, turned 18 together, and graduated highschool together. He started out amazing, as amazing as teenage boys could get, but somewhere along the way he changed. But looking back now, you could never truly call him your sweetheart, even at his sweetest.
While you were studying endlessly to graduate high school with honors and applying to all the colleges and scholarships you could, your boyfriend was out partying and drawing further and further away, turning cold and careless. And though you hadn’t found out until afterwards, your boyfriend had spent the last six months of your relationship sleeping around with countless other girls behind your back. You didn’t find out until a sweet girl came forward and told you what he’d done, and that she was sorry and didn’t know he was taken.
“He’s not, not anymore.”
You found more proof. He didn’t even try to hide it, but you were too busy with school to notice all his tagged posts on Instagram, all the pictures of him openly kissing other girls while you foolishly had his name and a heart in your bio. You felt humiliated. When you finally confronted him, he laughed. As if he didn’t care that you found out. As if he was proud. “Maybe,” he looked at you with absolute lack of care in his eyes, “Maybe if you weren’t so fucking prude and put out a little more, I’d still care about you!”
The only thing you did right in that relationship was to break it off right there. You’d think, after saying he didn’t care about you, he’d leave. But even after you walked out that door for the last time, his number was one that constantly popped up on your phone. “Wow, running away like always, huh? Fucking bitch.” “No wonder no one wants you” “Always such a clingy bitch but never wanted to fuck. Maybe if you would’ve slept with me I wouldn’t have to find other girls to satisfy me.” “You did this to yourself.” He’d send you pictures of himself with the other girls, taunting, saying “This is what you’re missing out on.” He’d flaunted the fact that he cheated on you, as if wanting to humiliate you. As if it’s what you deserved.
And, for a long time after it ended, you believed him.
Did you think Mat was like that? Deep down, no. But something made you fearful to open up to any man ever again after what happened. You’d truly loved someone, as blind as you were, and it all blew up in your face, and now, you were convinced love only ended with a broken heart.
Mat sat across from you now, in this familiar little coffee shop, his eyes heavy and his brows furrowed in worry, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth as he watched you. His hair was the same as when you woke up tangled together this morning, dark and unruly after his morning skate, and he sat with his big hands resting on the table, just inches from your own, playing with his fingers- a nervous habit that you realized as of late and loved. Watching him scratch his wrists and crack his knuckles and fumble with his fingers was a strange sort of calming, and made you want to hold his hands in yours and kiss each joint and feel his skin against yours in that wholesome, comforting way. But he didn't reach out. He thought he did something wrong. He thought he ruined your relationship. He thought it was his fault.
“That's not how I imagined our first morning together would go.” He gave a sad smile, always one to try and lighten the mood, while his mind drifted to the daydreams he had had of waking up surrounded by your warmth and your arms and getting to kiss and snuggle into you before practice. He had always dreamed of that. The softness, the domesticity, it's what he craved. But before you could find the words to make it right, his voice dropped and shook. "So, our first 'talk', huh? What did I do?"
You couldn't find the words, and you just dropped your gaze to the table. His sad eyes made you feel so bad. "I'm so sorry, Mat."
"Why'd you run off?" The fear in his voice was enough to make your throat squeeze tight. He shouldn't feel this way. You really didn't deserve him.
"I just…" your mind raced to find an explanation for yourself. "I freaked out."
"About what? Help me understand. So we can fix it. Let me fix it, please." You looked up again, thinking you owed him at least your attention. His hazel eyes were glossy and as beautiful as always, searching yours for an answer, any answer, and you wanted nothing more than to tell him how amazing he was, to tell him this wasn't his fault. Someone as amazing as him should never feel pain. But you knew you had to open up to him.
"Listen." You reached your hands out on the table, centimeters from his own, and stopped just short of his fingertips, focusing your eyes on the smooth surface of the table. "You have so much love in you." You began. "That's one of things that I asked Rebecca for, remember? A big heart." You glanced up for only a brief moment to see his lips turn up a bit. "I need someone with a big heart, and I thought I could handle it right now, but…" When you trailed off, Mat spoke up softly, carefully, hesitant to interrupt you, but desperate for an answer.
"You can't handle me? Am I too overwhelming? We can slow down, even back up if you want-."
"Mat-"
"We don’t need to hang out as much as I’ve been trying to-”
“-Mat-”
“I'm sorry. I'm sorry for interrupting you. And for being overwhelming."
There was no hint of sarcasm in his voice like there was in your exes, not judgement, no daggers, only pure care and genuine sorry. He hadn't raised his voice at you once, hadn't yelled at you for leaving a cold, empty hole next to him this morning like your ex would have. You found it refreshing to have a man speak to you so calmly, so gently, and carefully, and you realized that the last thing Mat wanted to do was mess this up.
And you felt the same.
He was quiet now, after his little outburst, waiting for you to say anything. "Maty," his eyes shot up to yours at the sound of his nickname leaving your lips. You chose your words carefully, as carefully as Mat handled your emotions, as if one wrong word could shatter something amazing. "You're not overwhelming. You're amazing. It's me, it's my fault I can't handle it." There it is, Mat mused to himself, The 'it's not you, it's me'.
"No, don't say that..."
"Listen…" I've been hurt before. I'm sure you have too, but I got messed up." Mat let out an upset little huff, his eyes going even more soft and watching you gently, as if he wanted to make it all better and erase any memories of pain from your past relationships. "The only other guy I was ever seriously with… he made me feel like shit. Like I'm… unworthy of love."
"You're not." He spoke up fast, urgent, but delicate.
"I feel like I don't deserve how amazing you're being."
"Stop, (Y/N), please. Just shush." Mat shook his head, absolutely heartbroken you hear your confession. "I know what it's like to be hurt, shit, do I know. But you deserve so much better than any of your exes have given you. I know that."
Your throat was suddenly tight at his reassuring words. "He hurt me, a lot. I'm still so broken because of him. He humiliated me, made me afraid. Of men, of relationships, of love. It hurts, Mat… It hurts to try and love again when I've loved so hard and only known broken ends. It's hard for me to trust people, and it's so, so scary to jump into a relationship like this." You glanced up momentarily to meet his gaze, feeling absolutely embarrassed to be spewing all of this dramatic sob-story to him.
"You're not…? (Y/N), baby," he whispered, shaky, as if it might be the last time he called you that,, as if by tomorrow you'd be nothing more than strangers again.. "You're not… breaking up with me, are you?" Before you could respond, Mat continued one, as if he didn't want to hear the answer that he automatically assumed would be bad. "If you are, if you need some space or some time away from dating, that's alright, I'll respect that. But I think we can work this out. I'm willing to try."
For a second, you imagined going back to being single again after everything Mat had given you. You would never be able to forget him, forget what was, and what could’ve been. So you shook your head.
"No, Maty. I don't want to break up."
"Fuck, oh, thank god." He finally smiled, releasing the breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding all day.
"The reason I freaked out so bad this morning, it wasn't the kiss, not really the cuddles either. I enjoyed those, even though they were a little awkward, being our first time and all…" you shared a little smile at that, at the memory of the first time you'd curled into each other and giggled and squirmed and talked, the most intimate moment of your relationship so far. "I like being with you, I just freaked because…. Well, Mat, I don't even know if you remember, 'cause you were asleep, but last night you said you love me."
It was a few long, quiet seconds, watching him process it in his mind, the look in his eyes going even more worried. His eyes widened as he sighed a nervous breath of air. "Shit, I did?" He reached up for a moment to scratch the back of his neck and his cheeks went a little red as he scrambled for his words. "I, uhh, heh." He let out an awkward, forced laugh. "I didn't mean for you to know so soon. I'm sorry."
"You don't need to be sorry about how you feel."
"Yeah, then neither do you." His fingertips grazed over the cool surface of the table and up to your warm hands, slowly, carefully, asking for permission. When you didn't flinch away or tense up, you felt his hands cup your own, and there, cradled in the palm of his hand, you felt okay. "You don't need to feel bad about panicking at that. That's a big thing I said, even I can understand that. We can back up a bit. Maybe I'm pushing too hard to force feelings. Let's just take it easy, alright? Just hang out casually a little longer before calling this a relationship. Just see where things go. That sound better?"
You shook your head, and Mat's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, wondering what else he could suggest. "No, Mat, I'm not suggesting we step back from this relationship. I still want to be with you, I promise. I still want to be your girlfriend."
His head dipped down shyly as he grinned at the table, still overjoyed at the thought of being with you. "I still want to be your boyfriend." He squeezed your hands in excitement, in content.
And you squeezed back.
"Good."
You knew Mat wouldn't kiss you, not before having that conversation about your boundaries, so you lifted his big hand to your lips and pressed a little kiss against one of his knuckles. He watched, his eyes wide and a content smile on his face, and slowly brought your own hand to his lips, reciprocating the appreciation.
"Well…" he spoke gently, lips moving against your skin. " Then what do you want to do? Continue as we were? Slow it down a little?"
"Just a little. I just needed you to know what you're dealing with with me. How scared I am to try this out again."
"Baby, we've all got our histories. Trust me, I would know. We all need different things in a relationship, okay? I'm not going to judge you for them. If your heart needs to be handled carefully, I can take it."
"Thank you."
"Can I kiss you?"
"Please."
And so, he leaned across the table and cupped one of your cheeks with a big hand, his fingers still tangled with yours, and pulled you into the sweetest, gentlest kiss you'd ever felt. From the moment you brushed noses, a smile lit up your face. And in that kiss, you could feel his promise. That he'd treat you better than your exes, that he'd give you what you deserve, gently, carefully, and with your heart in mind. And you brought your hands up to trace his jaw, promising the same thing back.
"So," he smiled as he sat back down, cheeks pink from the kiss. "That last thing I want to do right now is rush this, but I uh, I got you a ticket for our next home game. Call it an early Christmas present. I was planning on introducing you to my friends afterwards, but I feel like you're not ready for that." He smiled, showing you that it was no big deal for him. He was adaptable. If you needed a change, it was easy. "It'd mean a lot to me to have you there, if you want to come?"
He still wanted you there with him even after you showed him just how broken you were. And you still wanted to be there, support him, share the passion he had for hockey. Watch him do what he loves.
You smiled, your thumb drawing gentle hearts on the back of Mat’s hand.
"There's nothing I want more."
#mat barzal#mat barzal x reader#reader insert#mathew barzal#fic#nhl fanfiction#nhl x reader#hey there stranger#op
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baking
a/n: this fic is for the sweetest person @broken-hearted-barnes !!! you deserve the world and more and you’re so amazing and ilysm !!! i hope you enjoy it :~) <3 also im trying out a new format (???) for my fics, let me know what you guys think !
in which you and bucky bake together
masterlist
Baking. Your escape from the world, your muse, and best of all, delicious food. You baked all the time at the tower when you had a chance. Everyone would beg you on the way back from a mission to make some cookies, a pie, a cake or anything at all, they adored your baking. You tried teaching them so they could learn themselves but it was way too much of a shitshow. Tony tried to eat the batter, Steve got confused half way through, Nat didn’t even try, Clint shook his head as soon as you extended an apron his way, Thor tried the most, but it just wasn’t for him. Sam looked at you, laughed, and turned back around. Bucky blushed deeply, eyes going wide before looking down. And Bruce kept getting distracted by Tony messing with his batter. You even tried teaching Peter, who nailed it but was terrified as soon as he presented his pastries to the team, almost getting ran over as they all scrambled to get some. Safe to say he wouldn’t bake in the tower anytime soon.
So for the time being it was just you baking. You were okay with that, you didn’t have to share your supplies or your kitchen, you could just blast your music and enjoy the sweet, sweet smells of the food you made. Then you realized that someone had been using your ingredients, your utensils were slightly misplaced to the right and the over smelled slightly like raspberries. Strange. You shrugged it off and continued about your day, training and following your own routine. Then you heard the mention of the red fruit you smelled before and your ears perked up.
“those raspberry scones you made were amazing barnes! You’ve been holding back on us” sam spoke loudly, you rounded the corner and you could see a very red bucky, rolling his eyes at his friend. “wait until y/n finds out you can bake, she’s gonna freak out” Bucky’s blush deepened and Steve nudged his shoulder.
“you know if you asked her out she’d say yes” he looked at him pointedly, and Buckys smile faltered a bit. He shook his head slightly, his long hair falling into his face. “i don’t think I’m her type, she likes all those celebrities with curly hair” he spoke, looking at the other two men in the room. As Steve was gonna speak your you entered the room, ready to give an earful to bucky.
Then he looked at you and any anger you had melted away, you were left with fondness and the want to kiss him all over. “uh hi” you spoke, a bashful smile on your face as he gave you a grin. “hi” he replied, a giant smile on his face as his eyes darted between you and the floor. “Do you guys know who baked earlier? It smelled really good in the kitchen, like raspberries.” You looked ag Bucky, he knew that he was caught.
With a laugh Steve and Sam both yelled out “it was Bucky!” Before darting out of the room, leaving the two of you together. Your eyes landed on the super soldier in question, chills running down your body as your eyes locked. You felt goosebumps rise on your arms, you rarely ever got cold, the tower was always the perfect temperature, what the hell was going on. From down the hall Sam and Steve told FRIDAY to lower the temperature in the room the two of you were in, they knew bucky would give you his sweater in an instant.
“So you like to bake huh” you smiled, sitting close to bucky, unintentionally scooting closed so you could feel his body heat. Bucky looked at you and noticed how cold you were, instantly taking off his bomber jacket and sliding it over your shoulders. “sorry i hate the cold” you smiled sheepishly as you held the jacket closer to your body. “Don’t worry about it doll, looks better on you anyway.” He smiled, eyes going wide as he realized what he had just said. You blushed deeply, suddenly growing very warm at his words.
“you can’t avoid my question barnes, you like to bake?” You held eye contact with him and he smiled, looking down at the ground before nodding and looking back up at you. “I didn’t want to take that from you, I always thought baking was your thing so why intrude on it” he shrugged his shoulder, looking at his finger while you studied his side profile.
“i really want to stab you right now buck” you sighed, laughing as his eyes went wide for a second, “it could’ve been our thing this whole time! I love having someone else baking with me, hence why i gave everyone baking lessons.” He smiled at you and moved ever so slightly so that both of you were pressed up against each other.
“you’d really want me in there with you?” He turned to look at you, butterflies in your stomach as the two of you grew closer. You nodded, not trusting your voice. The two of you glanced at the others lips, too scared to make a move first. You both stayed like that for a while, just trying to memorize every small feature on the others face. Then you pushed forward, your lips landing on his softly, kissing him gently. He smiled into the kiss, immediately reciprocating your movements as giggles left your mouth.
Days passed and you and bucky were almost always in the kitchen when you weren’t busy. The team was more than happy, getting many pastries in return for dealing with how sickeningly cute you and bucky acted all the time. You had realized yesterday after baking a cake for the team that you were low on supplies, so you made a mental note to go tomorrow to buy some more so you didn’t run out.
When you woke up early the next morning you got dressed, not bothering to tell anyone you were heading out. You calmly went through the aisles of the grocery store, leaning on your shopping cart and walking slowly to try and spot the brand of flour you use. You hummed along to the song softly playing over the speakers, putting the bag of flour in your cart before heading to get the sugar.
Bucky woke up nervous. He barely slept last night because of a nightmare he had of you. He knew it wasn’t real but he had to make sure you were okay. You never woke up early so he immediately went to your room and softly opened the door, expecting you to be sleeping soundly under your too many blankets. Bucky’s heart dropped when he saw how messy your sheets were. Signs of a struggle.
Yeah there was a struggle; a struggle to get out of bed so you could keep to your schedule.
Bucky ran back to his room, grabbing his phone and calling you, texting you and even leaving a fucking voicemail. You didn’t answer.
As you cruises down the shopping aisles, getting some peach lifesavers to make bucky try, you wondered if you should stop by the coffee shop you loved and get something really quickly. You smiled to yourself and headed to checkout, forgetting you never took your phone off Do Not Disturb.
Bucky ran all over the tower looking for you, asking FRIDAY and every living being if they had seen you. Everyone was both shocked and amused that Barnes was losing his mind over you not being in your room, they assumed you went for a walk but Bucky didn’t want to believe them, he was too paranoid.
You decided against getting the drink, heading straight home instead, your heart fluttering at the thought of bucky missing you. You smiled to yourself and tapped on the steering wheel to the beat of the your music.
Bucky slipped on his boots and fixed the knife near his ankle, he was gonna find you no matter what. It wouldn’t be that hard considering you were already pulling into the tower and trying your best to carry all the bags at once.
Bucky rushes out the tower, a menacing look on his face, searching everywhere for your face. You locked the car door and immediately booked it for the doors, not wanting to risk dropping a bag and having to make two trips.
As you ran towards the doors, Bucky game out of them, his menacing expression fading away as he ran towards you arms open and smile on his face.
“don’t hug me! Get a damn bag and help me dammit” you laughed, pushing him softly as he took all your bags and you sighed in relief. “okay I get it you’re strong” you giggled, noticing how stressed out he looked you furrowed your brows.
“bucky are you okay? you look stressed” you noted, he smiled sheepishly at the ground before turning to you when you entered the kitchen. “I’m not- well anymore at least” he chuckled and you cocked your head, urging him to continue.
“i- well when i woke up you weren’t here and so i freaked out and” he pulled the knife from beside his ankle and the gun he had behind his back, “i was gonna go look for you to make sure you were okay.” He blushed and you felt your heart explode into a million pieces, a giant smile spreading on your face as you jumped into his arms. He held you up with ease and buried his face in your neck, your legs wrapping around his waist.
“you are too much james” you whispered, smiling as he set you down softly. “I went to go get more baking supplies, we were running low, and i just realized my phone was on do not disturb, so sorry for missing your” you glanced down at your phone and you choked on your spit, “36 missed calls” you bursted our laughing and he frowned at you. You gave him a small kiss on the cheek before jumping up on the counter next to him, swinging your legs.
“well? if you were so worried then put the things away or else im really gonna be distressed because i hate putting groceries away” you smiled at him and he rolled his eyes, giving you a kiss on your lips before moving to put everything away.
“im only doing this so you can teach me how you made the scones the other day” bucky smiled at you from behind a cabinet and you laughed. “secret recipe” you piped up, sliding off the counter and hugging him from behind.
The kitchen was your guys’ safe place, a place where you could mess around and be disgustingly cute. A place to kiss between tasting batter and have one too many flour fights. Baking in the kitchen with your Bucky was your safe place.
#bucky x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes drabble#bucky fluff#soft!bucky#protective!bucky#bucky imagine
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The Conversations - part 3/3
Characters: Hoseok, Taehyung
Wordcount: 2.2k words
Genre: slice of life, discussion of NSFW topics, conversation
Rating: suggested 18+
Hello readers! I’m back and I bear gifts!
This is the final installment for The Conversations. In this piece Tae and Hobi discuss their relationships with their girlfriend, Lace -- Tae’s gf -- and Giggles -- Hobi’s --, sharing some spicy details and offering each other advice. Since I consider them the “freakiest” among the guys, do expect some TMI.
TRIGGER WARNINGS: so much BDSM I had to read a handbook, impact play and dedicated objects, bondage and restrictions, themes of domination and submission, use of safeword and mentions of subspace. Voyeurism and exhibitionism, adult clubs and dungeons, public sex, masturbation and oral sex. Blindfold, powerplay, roleplay. Mentions of a sextape... :’) (also hints of a possibly angsty Namjoon future fic, I had to.)
Wordcount: 2.2k
And here is my masterlist :)
Enjoy!
“Hey hyung, sorry for last night.” Taehyung said, sitting beside Hoseok at the lunch table in the common room.
“It’s okay, no biggie.” Hoseok already had a bright smile on, warm and honestly unbothered by the event.
“I didn’t knew Giggles was at your’s.” Taehyung opened his lunch, starting to analyse the various boxes and cups.
“Yeah,” Hobi’s ears turned reddish. “It was a surprise for me too.”
“How is it going?” Tae cheered as he found the main course. Beside him Hoseok stirred his noodles.
“It’s great. She’s fantastic. How about Lace?”
“She’s doing great. We’re doing great.” Taehyung looked around a little to see if anyone could possibly overhear. “We experimented with a riding crop. Best decision of my life.”
Hoseok laughed out loud, smashing his free hand enthusiastically against the table. “Glad to know. Giggles prefers the paddle. Or my hands. But yeah, Lace gives crop vibes.”
“She’s a huge freak.” Tae took some kimchi, mixing it with his rice. His mouth still half full, he muttered. “But I guess I am, too.”
“As long as she likes that there’s nothing wrong.” He too took a bite of his own food. “Wanna share?”
“What? No.” Tae filled his mouth some more. “I mean, I have to ask Lace first.”
“I mean the food, you pervert.” Hoseok bent over his dish, “though I guess nor Lace nor Giggles would oppose.”
“God, Lace is such an exhibitionist.” Tae said, motioning to his side dish and inviting Hobi to take what he liked.
Hobi also put his smaller boxes in the middle. “And you’re a voyeur, which works just fine.”
“Match made in heaven. Does Giggles like it too?”
“She likes it enough. But, she’s not that visual. She prefers focusing on other senses.”
“I kinda reckoned.” Taehyung remembered the previous night, when he’d endlessly knocked on Hobi’s apartment door only to have his hyung come to the door half undressed, faux leather pants on, his forehead sweaty. Behind him, Tae could recognise a woman -- well, Giggles -- fully naked, sitting on a chair, wearing nothing but a blindfold. And several feet of rope.
“Freak.” Deadpanned Hoseok.
“What about you, freak?” Tae also stirred his noodles, enjoying the steam coming from them together with the heavy smell of soy sauce and fried peppers.
“Do you want me to say I enjoy having her at my mercy, nothing but a blabbering mess, incapable of getting away or understanding what’s going to happen to her?” Hoseok was overly descriptive on that. “Because yes, I do.”
“So not only blindfolded but also tied up?”
“If she’s not behaving, then yes.” Hoseok suddenly looked stern.
“I bet she doesn’t behave much.”
“At all.” Hoseok smirked. “I think I should change her punishment to something she enjoys less.”
“Lace hates not touching me.” Tae fits a huge meat roll in his mouth.
“Giggles is not bothered, as long as I’m touching her. She needs to feel some sort of an anchor, a safety line, so to say.”
“Well, I’d need one too if I were tied up and in the dark.” His mind wandered back to one of his first times with Lace, when he’d let her cover his eyes with a thick silk scarf tied behind his head, his body at her mercy, as she observed him and touched him without him knowing where she’d land her attack, without his intense gaze following her every movement and making her flustered. She had confessed feeling free, unjudged. Not that he would ever judge her, but he knew that he would feel conscious too if he were the one in the spotlight, were the roles to be reversed. He knew he would feel freer without his lover looking at him, analysing where his attention gravitated. But this happened at the beginning, when they were still learning. Now their most pressing need is watching each other.
“Well. Once it got bad. She got into subspace. Only time she used her safeword. That’s why we don’t use handcuffs anymore.” Hoseok’s face was instantly dull. He still tortured himself for what had happened that one time. The look in Giggle's eyes as he let her wrists free, the angry red marks on her skin showing the indentations of the metal. The way she had seemed so broken, so lost. And the heavy tears falling on his chest as she hid in his form, clinging to him.
"Just once? Me and Lace had to use them a couple times. Both of us. Sometimes she's not in the right mindset and she asks me to stop and cuddle her. Sweetest thing in the universe." His eyes turn dreamy. "After her taste, obviously."
Hoseok laughs and punches him lightly. "TMI, bro."
"Come on, if Giggles tasted that sweet you would boast too."
"I'd rather keep that honey all to myself."
"Greedy." Taehyung poured himself some cola, watching it fizzle before downing it in one go. "By the way, do you have any good role play suggestion? I'm thinking of surprising her during the weekend but I'm so tired I can barely think."
"Strangers at the hotel. Book a room, meet at the lobby and then go upstairs to fuck like bunnies?" Hobi said it without even thinking.
"Done that."
"It's a classic. Giggles loves it. She fucks me like a slut." He snickered softly, nothing but dark mischief in his voice, but also undying fondness for his beloved.
"And that's TMI." Tae quips.
"You asked."
"Yeah, fair."
"Maid and master. Or butler and madame. You pick." Hobi drank some Sprite directly from the bottle.
"Cliché." Taehyung tutted and proceeded with his meal. “I don’t know. Not really.”
"Artist and muse? I don't know man, you're super picky." It came out with his typically whiny intonation, his tone a rollercoaster as he got deeper into thought.
Taehyung stayed quiet for a few minutes, mulling over the possibility. “Could do.”
The other man slurped in his noodles, finishing them and sipping the soup. “So, roleplay, uh?”
“It makes me feel freer. Like I’m not V from BTS. Like I’m just a boy who loves his girl.”
Hobi nodded. “You don’t know the incredible amount of places I wish I could fuck Giggles.”
Tae clapped his hands and laughed. “Like that one time at the restaurant. Damn, you disappeared for half an hour.”
Hoseok stood up to discard his container, then sat down again. In the meantime he reminisced. How Giggles had smiled mysteriously at him, holding his hand and carefully taking him away from the main scene, into a corridor and then to the restroom. He remembered how she’d palmed him heavily, how he’d cum in her mouth after five minutes of her devoted ministrations. He remembered how Giggles had fingered herself as she was sucking him, waiting for him to be done so he would crouch down, bunch up her skirt and eat her out until her eyes crossed and her legs quivered, lost in ecstasy.
“Sometimes I wished I could just get lost somewhere like in an alley or drive off in the countryside and get it all loose.” Hoseok huffed quietly as he cleaned after his meal, grabbing an half empty tube of ice cream and setting it on the table, again sitting beside Tae. “Make her take off her panties while we’re out for dinner. Do her against the mirror in the elevator.”
“The one back at the dorms...” Tae arched an eyebrow, nodding knowingly.
“Yeah. Or like… Go to a club and just finger her on the dancefloor. Or in a dark nook.” His eyes crinkled shut.
“I get it. People knowing you sucks sometimes. Lace and I wanted to go to one of those... dungeons? Or maybe like an adult club. One of those places where you can perform in front of a crowd. Try some real exhibitionism. And some serious bondage.” Taehyung finished his own meal, discarding the finished cups and plates and grabbing a spoon to share the ice cream.
“Like, shibari?” Hobi asked, making eye contact with his friend.
“Yeah, why not.” Tae shrugged. “Lace would be interested. We’ve done mild things before and she enjoyed, but those are things you need to learn with an expert and just thinking of all the things that could go wrong makes me shiver.” He took a big mouthful of ice cream, almost freezing his brain in the process.
“I took an online course. Kinda fun.” Hoseok smiled and turned a bit shy. “Giggles was ecstatic. We learned some extra knots together, from a book our teacher recommended. She’s a keen student. Very dedicated.” He exploded in bubbly laughter.
“Would you let her tie you up?” Tea asked.
“I don’t know if she wants to, but I would let her.” Hobi blushed. “I wouldn’t mind. She’s talented. And disciplined. Very careful and diligent. I know I would be in good hands. What about you?”
“I’ve already let Lace tie me up.” Taehyung was absolutely confident, his voice neutral. “I enjoy letting her manhandle me every now and then.” He shrugged again, blowing his cheeks and rubbing at his chin. “She can do that. Honestly, she did take some lessons and taught me a few things. We explore a lot together.” At this, his eyes moved to the floor, a bit flustered. Lace knew his body like no one else in the world. He had spent years living in it and getting to know it, but his girlfriend had put body and soul into exploring him, memorising every small tell, every little quirk and sweet spot. Lace had unravelled him in a couple weeks, studying his anatomy with a maniacal precision. And when he allowed her to take control of him, her knowledge showed. Her fingers could draw endless pleasure, keeping him on his toes for hours and then making him explode like fireworks. But the most important thing was the way she had learned to soothe him, to care after him, her affection like balm to his bitter moods and darkest nights.
“Glad for you.” Hoseok gave him a pat on the shoulder, drawing him in for a hug.
Taehyung was getting ready to leave. “I got to talk to Namjoon. He’s giving me feedback on some lines in English. By the way, have you heard of him and Vixen?”
“What?”
“Had a fight. He’s hell-bent on making it up to her.” Tae scrunched his nose. “Guk sorta walked in on them in the studio the other day. I don’t know if they made up.”
Hoseok pouted. “Joon temper’s sucks. Boy got some pent up pressure and he’s gonna blow a fuse someday or other. Plus Vixen’s no saint.”
“She holds him accountable for his bullshit. Takes good care of him. Plus, man, she’s a keeper.”
“Truly.” Hobi thought back to the sparks between her and Namjoon everytime they’re together. If that wasn’t love, then he didn’t know what it could ever be. Probably it was the way Giggles searched for his hand when she was afraid, the way she always looked at him when she found something funny, or that small breath she held every time he said her name. Or even the way he needed to bury his nose in her neck when he needed to rest. How he always put his hand on the small of her back when he needed her at his side, when he looked for support and protection.
Taehyung already had his hand on the handle of the kitchen’s door when Hoseok stopped him. “How do you store your… stuff, with Lace?”
“You mean what? Toys? Porn? Pics?”
The older huffed. God, he’s really shameless. “Your vids?”
Taehyung’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. That stuff. I assume you’re not hiding it from her?”
“I was thinking of shooting something. I need safe storage.” Hoseok rubbed at his forehead, crossing his arms.
“Avoid phones. Worst thing. Get yourself a good camera and a decent memory card. Like 72GB. Keep all the stuff in the memory card or pen drive. Lace and I have it in our bedside table. Never keep stuff on the phone or in cloud.” He pointed a finger towards Hoseok for emphasis. “I would recommend an action camera, which is practical like a phone but safer. But if you do use a phone, no connection, no wifi, nothing. Just a phone used like a good ol' camera. Move all the stuff away as soon as you’re done.”
“Yeah, that was sort of a given..” Hobi nodded. “So, a camera? Suggestions?”
“Depends? Handheld or tripod?” Taehyung asked, checking his phone.
“You know me. Hands on my girl, and I like shifting a lot.”
“Tripod. Definitely. I’ll send you some links for reference tonight. Enjoy.”
#bangtan sonyeondan#bts smut#bts scenario#bts imagine#bts reaction#bts headcanon#kim taehyung#jung hoseok#hoseok imagine#hobi imagine#hoseok reaction#hobi reaction#taehyung imagine#taehyung reaction#hoseok one shot#taehyung one shot#bts conversation
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Fuck
AO3
Adrien noticed that each of his friends had a favorite curse word. For the longest time, Adrien thought that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was in the same boat as him, that is, she didn’t swear. But he was sorely mistaken, and his world was turned upside down the day he found out that Marinette Dupain-Cheng, one of the sweetest girls he knew, swore like a sailor.
“Fuck.”
The second the word had come out of his mouth, he cursed Alya’s existence.
“Adrien Agreste.” Gabriel’s voice boomed over the photoshoot. The room grew quiet, and Adrien inwardly cursed his friend’s potty mouths. Of course, this had to be the one photoshoot all month that his father had actually shown up to. “What did you just say?”
“Nothing father.” As Adrien openly lied to his father, he cursed the chain of events that had led him to this situation.
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Adrien Agreste hasn’t always been a quiet kid. He remembered when he and Chloe used to play when they were younger how often she would complain that he was being too loud and was hurting her ears.
But after his mother died, he learned that being too loud or saying the wrong thing would get him in trouble with his father. Eventually, Adrien figured out how to tame his voice. He no longer voiced every thought that ran through his head, he figured out which questions weren’t one’s to ask around his father, and he decided there were some words he just shouldn’t repeat at all.
But Adrien had never thought too much about how he filtered everything he said. He figured it was a natural thing for people to do.
So when he started going to school at François Dupont, the biggest shock to him wasn’t how far ahead he was in their curriculum, or that everyone already knew who he was, even though he didn’t know them, it was how the other students spoke. In his first month there alone, he must have learned at least five new words, and they were not of the academic sort.
There were slang words like ‘lit’ which Adrien figured out meant cool, ‘fam’ which is simply short for family, and ‘salty’ which Nino told him was a bit like upset.
And then there were the swear words.
Not the mild ones, like ‘hell’ ‘shit,’ and ‘damn’, which he already knew because his father would mutter them under his breath while working, but the extreme ones like ‘fuck’ and ‘bitch,’ which he had also heard before, but never in the way they got used at school. He had always heard them in intense situations in shows or movies that his father wouldn’t have approved of. But, the students of François Dupont used them casually, and frequently.
Over time Adrien grew used to their way of speaking. It could almost be considered its own language. He never learned to speak it, but he now could at least understand everything they said without having to ask for clarification.
Adrien noticed that each of his friends had a favorite curse word.
Alix loved referring to everyone as a bitch, fondly of course. She once got to leave school early, and before heading out the door called out “Sayonara bitches!” Adrien was certain she would’ve gotten detention for that if she hadn’t taken off down the hallway in a sprint.
Chloe also preferred the word bitch the most, but not in an affectionate way.
Alya’s favorite was fuck. She used it in every way possible; as a noun, verb, adjective, adverb, you name it and she had done it.
Nino enjoyed using the word ass, and as Adrien grew more comfortable around his friends, he often found himself on the receiving end of this one.
(Everyone else in his class had one too, but that would take too long to list.)
For the longest time, Adrien thought that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was in the same boat as him, that is, she didn’t swear. But he was sorely mistaken, and his world was turned upside down the day he found out that Marinette Dupain-Cheng, one of the sweetest girls he knew, swore like a sailor.
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Adrien had gotten to school early, so he could sit alone and have some time to think about how he could convince his father to let him go to the big sleepover his friends were planning on Friday night for Marinette’s 18th birthday. When he walked into his first-period class, he was surprised to see that Marinette was already there, and was furiously working on her tablet. He didn’t want to disturb her, so he quietly slid into his seat in front of her, and opened his schedule on his phone.
Right now, the only thing he had planned for the weekend was a photoshoot Friday afternoon, but he would still be able to make it to the sleepover as long as he could keep his schedule clear.
Adrien opened the notes app on his phone to write a list of reasons why his father should let him go.
One- His grades were the highest they had ever been.
Two- Next week was going to be very busy, and full of photoshoots, so he could use a day to relax before all of it.
“No, that doesn’t work,” Marinette mumbled to herself, and let out a sigh of frustration.
Adrien wasn’t sure if Marinette was yet to realize that he was in the room because she was so focused. He almost envied how passionate Marinette got about her work. The only thing he was passionate about was Ladybug, and she only thought of him as a friend. Right now he needed to be passionate about getting his father to let him go to the sleepover. He couldn’t miss another chance to hang out with his friends.
“What if I did it this way?”
Adrien continued to leave Marinette to her musings and turned his focus back to his list.
Three- He hadn’t been allowed to hang out with his friends outside of school for weeks.
Four- A loving Father wouldn’t trap his son in the house for no reason. (Adrien almost laughed out loud at that one.)
As he continued trying to think of other reasons, the rest of the class began trickling in. He waved at Alya and Nino as they walked in, and put his phone away, instead choosing to chat with his friends about the sleepover.
“Shit.” Marinette exhaled as she dropped her head to the table. She still seemed to be talking to herself, unaware that most of the class was now present. “This damn tablet- Now I’m gonna have to fucking restart this bitch of a dress.”
Adrien turned around to stare at the dark-haired girl in disbelief. He had never heard her curse before.
“Girl, what happened?” Alya reached out to her friend.
“My fucking-” At the moment Marinette lifted her head from the table, and locked eyes with Adrien who was still staring at her with wide eyes. “-dablet just tied. Tablet just gone. My design dead.” (Marinette hardly stumbled over her words like that anymore, but Adrien’s intense gaze focused on her, was enough to send her back to feeling like she was 13 again.)
Marinette turned her focus off of Adrien and gained enough composure to explain to Alya what happened.
Meanwhile, Nino elbowed Adrien in the side. “Are you okay dude?”
“I’ve never heard her swear before.”
“Really? You’re talking about Marinette right?” Nino motioned to the girl who was now getting up to find a spot along the wall where she could charge her tablet. “She’s like the worst out of everyone in the class, and you’ve never once heard her swear before right now?”
“Never.”
“Alya,” Nino turned his attention to the girl behind him. “Adrien says he’s never heard Marinette cuss before just now.”
“Really? I mean if you thought I cuss a lot, Marinette is even worse.” Alya paused in though. “Come to think of it Agreste, I’ve never heard you cuss either.”
“That’s because I don’t.”
Alya leaned forward onto the table. “Oh, come on. You can’t lie to me. Not once have you said a cuss word?”
“No.”
“Now I wanna hear it.”
Marinette slid back into her seat. “Wanna hear what?”
“I want to hear Adrien say fuck.”
Marinette wore an obvious expression of confusion, so Alya filled her in on Adrien’s swear word virginity.
“Leave him alone Alya. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t cuss.” Adrien was glad that at least Marinette had his back, as Nino seemed to be backing Alya’s idea.
“Just once, Agreste. Say fuck and I’ll never ask again.” The teacher walked into class and began to call roll.
“F-” He started, “forget it.” Adrien smiled coyly and turned around in his seat, raising his hand as the teacher said his name.
Alya leaned even farther forward, so she was practically laying on the desk. “I’ll get you Agreste.”
“Another day babe, another day.” Nino half-whispered to her, giving her a little pat on the head.
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#miraculous ladybug#adrienette#adrien agreste#marinette dupain cheng#My writing#Fic#i started this in may 2018#2020
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The Tower: The Queen of Asgard - 29
The Tower: The Queen of Asgard
An Avengers Fanfic
Series Masterlist
PREVIOUS //
Pairing: Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)
Word Count: 3055
Warnings: Talk of sex
Synopsis: The twins are now three and while the Avengers know that Clint and Thor are the biological father’s none of them know or care which blond, blue-eyed baby is related to which man. When Riley gets the power to control wind and it becomes evident that she is the heir to the Asgardian throne, Elly, Steve, Thor, and Tony take the twins to Asgard to train her.
Not every Asgardian is happy with their king’s choice of consort, nor the impurity of the heir’s blood. While others expect Thor to make things more official. What’s clear is, the role of Queen of Asgard is not easily filled.
Author’s Note: Written with @fanficwriter013 who is never going to get off that train.
Chapter 29: Henhalda
Sometime in the early morning some people came into Thor’s room and told us it was time to separate. We all went to our respective rooms. I woke the next morning to Clarke shaking me gently. I groaned and rubbed my eyes.
“Well, you look blitzed,” she teased.
“Mmm…” I grumbled sitting up. “Did you have fun?”
“Oh, yes,” she said grinning. “Here I have breakfast for you. Eat and I’ll tell you all about it.”
As I ate breakfast she regaled me with the story of the small orgy she and Jax ended up having that included Hill, Coulson, Carol, Happy, and a bunch of the Asgardians including Sif and Hogun. She said they’d taken it to Sif’s rooms and that the other’s had all gone to bed not long after us. It sounded pretty wild even for my standards, and I was glad she had fun.
I was just finishing up with my breakfast when Loki let herself in without knocking. “Hurry it up. You reek of sex and you need to bathe before Henhalda starts properly.” She barked.
I saluted her and shoved the last piece of my food into my mouth. She shook her head and left the room, closing the door behind her.
“It’s funny because as much as Loki particularly likes anyone, she likes me. But also, I annoy the shit out of her,” I said getting up.
“Does Loki like anyone?” Clarke joked.
“She has people that go from tolerate to love. She just expresses her love differently.”
Clarke rolled her eyes. “Through sarcasm?”
“That and only stabbing non-fatally,” I joked. “Alright. I better go bathe then. See you in a bit.”
I went and bathed and came back to my room in a robe. Clarke had been joined by Katveil and they were talking about the party while Katveil set up her brushes and inks.
“Good morning, Elly!” The way Katveil said my name was like a little kid who had just been told they can use a curse word. A little scared they might get in trouble but excited to try the word on their tongue. “Are you excited about tomorrow?”
“So excited. I never let myself want this before now. And now I am getting it, it’s one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.” I said taking off my robe.
“I’m so happy for you all,” she said. “Get comfortable. We are going to be here for a long time.”
I tied my hair up and lay down on my stomach and Katveil began to carefully fill in the linework she had done yesterday.
“So reflecting… do I just close my eyes and think about them?” I asked.
“We could ask you questions if that will help,” Katveil said.
“Okay, yes. That could work.” I agreed.
“Hmm… okay then,” Katveil said. “Do you have a favorite?”
I thought about the question seriously. The answer was always automatically no, but there was more to it than just yes or no. “No. But it’s different with all of them and some feel like they are more mine than others. Like Sam and Clint are like my best friends and I love being around them. Like all the time. Whereas Bruce and Tony challenge me, they push a lot, but I am very protective of them and I feel like they are mine. They don’t belong to the others the way they belong to me. But while they are mine, I feel like I am Natasha’s.”
“Huh,” Katveil said. “I haven’t really been in a relationship. So I don’t really have anything to compare that to.”
“Well, you have all the time in the world. I didn’t understand it until I was in the middle of it. And not just the polyamory stuff. But just being in love in general,” I explained.
“Oh?” Katveil asked.
“Oh yeah,” I said, smiling to myself. “Before them, I didn’t think I was the relationship type. I didn’t understand love. I didn’t understand romance. I didn’t even really trust people.”
“I have a hard time believing that,” Clarke teased.
“Well, it’s true,” I snarked. “I only started up with Nat because I knew she dated other people and I couldn’t get hurt if it never got serious.”
“Huh,” Katveil said. She stopped painting for a moment and then quickly went back to it like she’d just realized what she was supposed to be doing.
“You should see this thing, Blue,” Clarke said.
“I wish that I could,” I said. “But I can tell you, being painted on feels amazing.”
“Then I’m doing my job well,” Katveil said.
“I bet Hulk is enjoying it.” I hummed, imagining him lying down and being painted on.
“Is he the Hulk?” Katveil asked.
“I think so. Bruce was having a lot of trouble handling it,” I said. “It’s a shame though, it’s so relaxing.”
“I am sure they are working with him nicely,” Katveil said.
I chuckled. “If they weren’t we’d know about it.”
Clarke cracked up. “Yeah, that would draw some attention.”
Katveil chuckled and the three of us fell into mostly silence. I relaxed, letting the brush strokes on my back ease me into a light doze.
“So…” Katveil said after a little while. “Before you said the feelings were different with each of them?”
“Yes. It’s just as much, but for each of them it feels different,” I explained. “Like with Wanda. She’s really soft and caring and she makes me feel nurtured and nurturing. I want to be quiet with her and cuddle and hold each other. With Tony, I have to keep my jealousy in check because I get a little possessive of him. He was very hurt when I met him and it’s almost like I don’t trust anyone else not to hurt him again. Natasha, it feels super white-hot most of the time, but I also know when I’m at my weakest she’ll be there to wrap me up and make me feel protected.”
“I guess that makes sense. Different people need different things,” she mused.
“Exactly. Just like that,” I said.
“Tell me about each one,” she said.
I thought about it for a moment. “I love how Bruce can be soft and shy and gently and then rough and commanding and it's me that brings though out of him. I like geeking out about biology with him. I love it when he starts talking about things and I can't even understand what he's talking about anymore.
“And with Natasha, I love how loyal she is. How protective. How wild she can get and how bossy. I love how well she reads us and can always tell exactly what we need even when we don't know it. I love that with me, she lets herself be vulnerable and afraid and she knows I don't judge her for it.”
“That’s cute,” Katveil said affectionately.
“Okay... so Clint is a big dork. I love that about him. How funny he is. How loving. How he is so good at getting people into the headspace that they can do the things they need to do. I love how up for everything he is. Even when he's doubting himself. I love that he's so so smart but he pretends he's not so people don't have their expectations of him too high. I also love that with me, he pushes boundaries he's sometimes too scared to because he trusts me so much,” I explained.
“Tony I love how smart he is, and how funny. I love watching him work and when he gets all hyper-focused on something. I love how quickly we fell even after he'd been hurt so badly. I love how much he trusts me even when he didn't know me. How even when he's so scared he doesn't know what to do, what he wants more than anything is for us to be okay and to be provided for. I love how even though he could take us to expensive restaurants all the time, he'd rather eat burgers and pizza. I love how he tells me he loves me, even when he's not using the words.”
“How does that work?” Katveil asked.
“You just have to listen to him. If you listen you can hear it,” I said.
“Okay, who’s next?” She asked.
“Alright, so Sam. Sam is somehow both the coolest and sweetest person ever. I love how he just deals with shit. It almost doesn't matter what it is. I love how open he is to people. How caring. How he just wants to help people, whether it be the superhero stuff, or just to have them feel better when they're struggling with things. I love how playful he is with me. How he teases me. I love how free he is with his affection and that he'll come to me when he's feeling very cuddly because he knows I'm always down for cuddles,” I answered. “I love how Steve is this paradox. How he's so loving and understanding and caring, but how he's also such a huge fucking dumb ass. I love how passionate he is about things that are important to him. How he really backs up the things he believes in. I love how he adapts to things. I love that he sees the best in people. That he encourages the best in them. I love that he always has his heart open. I love that he will talk to me about how he's feeling even when he won't talk to anyone else because I have no expectations of how he should be and he knows that.”
“A paradox,” Katveil repeated almost to herself.
“Bucky is such a caring and soft boy. He always puts everyone ahead of himself. He had so much bad stuff happen to him, and he blames himself so much for it. I love that he'll let himself relax with us. He can't always do it, but it's more and more every day and now it's so rare to see the tense and worried Bucky. Even though he's often that with other people. I love how loving he is. How he is slow to open his heart but when it's open you're his person. I love his sense of humor. How he teases people and banters with them. I love how he always stops to pet dogs. Clint does that too actually. It's super cute. I love how when you become Bucky’s person, he's this huge flirt.” I continued. “Wanda is my sweet soft cuddly one. She is probably the most powerful one. Even compared to Thor. But she's also so soft and so fragile. I love how nothing has made her hard. She just loves. So fiercely. I love how when I'm in bed she'll just crawl into my arms and snuggle in. I love how she's not scared of her powers. She loves them and she shows them off. I love how she's quick to reassure people. I love how much of a mother she is. You know those people who are just kinda moms? But at the same time, she's just this cute little innocent thing. I love how she just comes into my room after I finished work and curls up on my bed like a cat to talk to me while I change. I love how she's willing to need people. She doesn't see that as a weakness.”
“Aww, curls up like a cat. That’s cute,” Katveil said.
“Yes, it’s very cute. She’s my cute bean,” I hummed.
“Was that all of them?” She asked.
“You’re forgetting the reason why I’m here,” I chuckled.
She made a small squeak sound and shook her head. “Yes, the king.”
“That's him,” I teased. “You know I had been with Nat for about a year before I even met Thor. I'd heard so much about him. They used to tease me for having a crush on him when really, I think they were projecting. They loved him so much. From what I hear, he's the one that convinced them that they could all be together if that's what they wanted.”
“Yes, that’s what he does,” Katveil agreed. “He inspires.”
“Oh yeah. He definitely does. And he's there where you need him. I met him because we were attacked. They took Wanda, Bucky, and Clint. They were toying with us. I called out to Heimdall to send him to help and the others laughed at me. But he came.”
Katveil gave a small nod. “It must have been necessary.”
“Oh yeah. It was. But that's what he's like. If you need him, he's there. I love how selfless he is. How good he makes people feel about themselves. I love how when he makes you feel like the most important person in the universe when he's with you.”
“So it is like you are each a brick in a foundation,” Katveil said.
“Yeah. Exactly. That is a perfect way to put it,” I agreed.
She smiled and put her paintbrushes down. “Guess what?” She said.
“Finished my back?” I asked.
“I have,” she confirmed. “It needs time to dry fully. So I will go and have them bring lunch in. Just relax a bit longer.”
“Thank you, Kat,” I said.
She headed out into the living room and I looked over at Clarke. “How does it look?” I asked.
“Oh, it’s gorgeous,” Clarke said. “Storytelling worked into it too. Well, I think.”
“Wow. Can’t wait to see it,” I said.
Katveil returned and I propped myself up on my elbows and ate the plate that was given to me. Occasionally she would touch my back gently and look at her fingers like she was testing how dry it was.
I finished my plate and Clarke took it and put it aside. “When you’re ready,” Katveil said.
“It’s dry?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “You are safe to move.”
I rolled over and sat up grabbing a glass of water and taking a long drink. “Maybe I should pee first.”
Katveil giggled. “Yes, that’s a good idea.”
I stood up. “Did you eat?”
“Did I eat?” She asked.
“Yes. Did you?” I repeated.
“The queen asks about my well being.” She said sounding shocked.
“Kat, I thought you said we were friends.” I scolded.
“Right, sorry.” She said, shaking her head. “I did eat, yes. Go… pee.”
I chuckled and grabbed the robe and went to the bathroom. When I came back I lay down and this time instead of doing the coloring, she began to fill in one of the blank spaces she had left for our symbols.
“What do you expect from the union?” Katveil asked as she did the intricate line work.
“I mean, I have been told we get our lives extended and powers. I’m glad that means that the others won’t have to face watching us grow old and die. But I think even if that wasn’t the case I’d be excited. I’m excited I get to have this thing where we get up and say to everyone, these are our people and we commit ourselves to each other.”
“So … claiming them?” Katveil asked.
“No. Not that. But not hiding and not being ashamed. Acknowledging them,” I said. “On Earth … Midgard… We were secret for so long because of the stigma of polyamory, that it is nice we get to have this. We can’t even have our relationship formally recognized there. If Tony were to die he could say we get his things, but there would be no guarantee that we’d get them.”
Katveil shook her head. “Midgard needs to stop being so repressed.”
“No argument from me,” Clarke laughed.
Katveil continued to work through the afternoon. The symbols for each person were all placed low around my hips and the insides of my thighs. Each done in that style that resembled a nordic mandella. Steve’s resembled a shield with a quill and inkwell tipped over on it. As she colored it the ink showed as bleeding colors that represented each of us into the shield. Blended into the shield was the rune Tỷr. Bucky’s was a wolf with what looked like an entire galaxy of stars in its eyes. The rune blended into it was eihwaz. Tony’s was half arc reactor, half-atom with the rune fehu. Bruce was a coin, that appeared to be in motion. On one side was the trefoil, the other side a green teddy bear. The rune that was worked into it was Ur. Clint had what looked like a cup of coffee and two arrows that were laid out into the shape of the rune nauðr, over a chevron. Natasha had her black widow symbol with a long-stemmed rose, complete with thorns. Her rune was algiz. Sam’s symbol was a feather that blended out into falcons taking flight, along with his wedged symbol and the rune raihdo. Wanda was the curved M of her logo with the rune ansus on a bleeding heart orchid. Thor’s was Mjolnir with sparks that came off her and connected with everyone else’s symbol. On the handle of Mjolnir was the rune thuisaz.
As Katveil colored, the images seemed to come to life, almost like a kind of magic ran through them. The colors seemed to be part of the story. In some places, they were bright primary colors. In others washed out watercolors. Some were metallic and shimmered in the light A thread of gold seemed to run through the whole scene connecting each part like it was a story, but while something I could vaguely understand, others I wasn’t sure about.
By the end, I was covered neck down in the artwork. Even on the soles of my feet and the palms of my hands. Katveil wished me well for the wedding and said she would be in the crowd and I spent the rest of the night with Clarke. The kids came in to see me for a little while and we played games and ate dessert. They were then taken to see Bruce so he could read them their bedtime story.
When I went to sleep I was buzzing with excitement. Tomorrow was the day my life was going to change forever and I couldn’t wait.
// NEXT
#the avengers#steve rogers#bucky barnes#tony stark#natasha romanoff#bruce banner#clint barton#wanda maximoff#sam wilson#avengers fanfic#avengers x oc#steve rogers x oc#bucky barnes x oc#tony stark x oc#stucky#clintasha#natasha romanoff x oc#wanda maximoff x oc#clint barton x oc#bruce banner x oc#sam wilson x oc#all caps#thor x oc#thor#fanfic#fanfiction#smut#fanficwriter013#the tower
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Alright! Time to scream my love to my mutuals no matter how cringy it is! Cause happy birthday to DBH and the funky androids in it.
@rcprobate Silas my beanie babe! You are such an amazing writer and you bring so much depth and love to all of your muses. You have wonderful headcanons for each other that really speaks to the characters. Our DBH babes have grown so much since we first started rping together, we have Calvin and Seven who are first were ready to just give up and then decided to overthrow Markus but a little thing called love got in the way and now Calvin is so soft for Seven and can’t live without them and it makes my heart so full. Seven and Rupert!! Oh made these two are the sweetest beans ever! With their babies and how much they support one another it makes me so happy. These two getting married feels like something out of a dream and its really happening. I love your Connor, sweet boy, maybe some day Sev and him will meet on better terms then whats going down between them with Calvin involved. I love you very much and I’m so happy to have you in my life, you’re my beanie babe.
@theveryfirst Heather and sweet sweet angel Chloe! Chloe is by far the sweetest android ever she gives me freaking cavities. Her love and adoration for Seven just makes me so very happy. Her little danger muffin, only a joke we get. Chloe has and is such a beautiful positive thing in their life they’ll never stop loving her and happy she loves them back. Also mama bear Chloe has permission to kick Neige’s frosty ass.
@jericholeader Becca! Markus is best boy! Amazing boy! Badass boy! I’ll come clean and say that it was Markus’ story that got me into DBH. You write him so well and he’s such a caring character, gah I love him so much. Also thank you for blessing my dash with photos of Jesse Williams. YOU HEARD ME ONCE AND YOU’LL HEAR ME SAY IT AGAIN MARKUS SHOULD HAD BEEN THE SEXIEST DBH CHARACTER IN 2018 I’M JUST SAYING!! RKs got to stick together cause who else is gonna save each other from their stubborn asses?
@erregent || @uglyanswer SHI!!! My love! Your trash man ruined me!! RUINED ME!!! Now I love this stinky garbage man and can’t believe Seven fell so hard for his ass. Watching those two grow together was the most beautiful thing, how far the two come from Gavin barely caring who they were to now he can’t believe they love him and he loves them back. You’ve written Gavin so well and amazingly I love what you have done with him. You pointed to the character in the dumpster and was like ‘that one’ and we all love you for it! Also you’re other muses are quality! You writing Cas made my dumb heart remember how much I loved this angel and went back to watch Supernatural episodes again (mostly ones with Cas cause Cas is love) Keep being you you amazing incredible lovely person. Also if you ever need some good nip prices don’t be afraid to ask what the stonks are.
@rkainine It just looks like we can’t be rid of each other does it? Wouldn’t that mean we’ve known each other or met four years ago? Take your pick man I feel old but I’m so glad we found each other again and once again have basically the same muse dynamic! Tiny sweet bby and big scary tough one. I’m so happy Cain and Seven are back and they finally got that hug! Seven loves Cain and will make baby brother see it! Don’t deny their love Cain! Not this time!
@anarmyofme I still adore you Ren! I always will. I’m very happy Seven and Connor remain friends. I’ll always treasure their previous relationship but like real like people change and move on. You’re still a wonderful and amazing writer for Connor who struggles with a lot but thats what makes Connor so amazing! You keep being your funky machine maybe not machine self!
@negotiiator ANDREW! God i love you so so so very much! Look at our bots and how much they’ve grown, the silly in love droids. Connor and Seven just make me so happy and gah Connor staying be Seven going through that rough time with their body failing. These two are here to stay forever and I’m loving all of it. Also Connor knows how frisky Seven actually is so cherish that secret >w> Seeing you on my dash is such a blessing and I’m so looking forward to Sev and Con being absolute dorks in love.
@313248317 Whats up with this little thing Con and Sev got going on i need the answers owo. But these two are super cute and so soft together, no matter what direction their relationship takes I’m here for it one hundred percent of the way! Sev always makes a happy gasp seeing you poke around in the inbox or on the dash like ‘theres my crush.’
@becomedeviant || @lightbringer I love both of your muses so much! From little shit Connor to little shit Lucifer, Ev/Sev have their hands full with these two. Seven always ready to love and protect Connor because he is baby brother. Ev and Lucifer is a surprise ship but now just makes me so soft!
@failedmission I have to just give major props to Evan’s little brother right here who supported them from day one with their baby. He is the best uncle ever and really if it wasn’t for our threads where I gather confidence in writing Evan expecting I don’t think Peach would have graced the dashboards. So big big thank you and I love you from me!
@deviatiions || @rkfinale So much love for Connor and Nines! They both have helped Seven so much and it warms my heart to see how much these two love and cherish their elder sibling. Also I love our human au angst, Peach baby will make everything alright don’t you worry! So much love and just happy emotions for you! And having a blast in ACNH, don’t be a stranger and come on over whenever you like.
@baddcop Rat stinky man! Poor Seven seems like all of our interactions always turned out bad for them but now they’re growing a spine and won’t take Gavin’s shit anymore so thank you for unlocking mouthy Seven. You have so much love and depth for the character your writing is amazing I just can’t get enough of it.
@blueroces Gah I know we’ve done a lot of discord stuff but Nines and Seven make my heart so full and happy! They’re so good for each other and just perfect! Love chatting with you when its like late at night for me but midday for you but thats timezones for ya rip. Can’t wait to keep writing more of this happy couple!
@carbonandiron Middy! I hope you are doing well and your comic is going great! You are such an amazing writer for all of your characters every single one is so perfectly written I just can’t get enough of them!
@plasticdetective the quickest love story right here folks instant connection. what helped was Connor’s already undying love for Seven and we had barely even gotten to full on plotting. He just went ‘this is my sibling i will love and cherish forever!’ and then finding out we knew each other vaguely, well you knew me vaguely, i knew you through your art was mind blowing cause here is me this itty bitty person gushing over your art and then find out later you are them mind fucking blown. I love all of our interactions so much and enjoy the angst train we got going its a fun ride. Not for Seven and Connor but fun for us!
@flcwcdcode Conall: this RK700 is mine now. Basically what happened so I guess we’re now best friends by default. Seven needs Conall in their life, keep them from doing stupid shit like a dumb kitten trying to climb something too big for them. Keep your idiot tiny sibling alive Conall.
Here are some other lovelies have my heart eyes and loves and everything as well!
@rxmodel @aurumhearts @rebellionmatriarch @designerfai @detrcitmade @wasscared @ambitiouslyruthless @rkplaced @badgeburdened @perfectmachiine @systminstablty @vexeddetective
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Assassins Don’t Cry
In this universe, Rebecca is still a loner, still an outcast, still the girl who pushed Merula in her first day at Hogwarts. Her brother is dead from trying to find her curse and her parents are split up, and she’s still sent to the Caldwells, who are still assassins who use demons to kill. But one thing changed. The actions of her mother’s family are released to the world on the day she escapes from them, every kill her mother has made is listed on the Daily Prophet and there are rumors that Rebecca killed a man herself. Some are sympathetic, including the Son of the Boy-Who-Lived (aka Ollie Potter @ryollie), others... not so much.
Rebecca didn’t like Ollie Potter at first. It was not of the boy’s fault but after all the whispers of the ‘Chosen One’s Son,’ she grew annoyed at the slightest mention of him. She never liked gossip or nonsense like that so it certainly didn’t help that much.
So it came as a surprise that she found herself growing close to Penny Haywood, famous for being the most popular girl who drinks in gossip.
Who knew Pretty Penny Haywood would be friends with Rebecca Lord, the loner artist who adores dwelling in Charms? Which is how Rebecca finds herself being pulled out of the library to be introduced to Penny’s new boyfriend.
“Penny,” she groaned, looking longingly at the library. “Do I have to meet your boyfriend?” She asks and wrinkles her nose at the thought. Third-Years and her peers around her are already dating around. Frankly she doesn’t understand the fuss but whatever makes Penny happy.
Penny looked back at her, a sly smile playing on her lips. “I told you, you need to talk to people other than me. I thought introducing you to my boyfriend is a good start.”
“What and shoving me to Talbott wasn’t enough?”
“He’s a loner like you! He doesn’t count.”
Rebecca resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Wow, Haywood. How rude.”
Penny only ignored her and merely tugged her to the direction of a young boy with white fluffy hair. “Ollie is one of the sweetest people I know, so I hope he’s a good start to being social and having friends, Merlin knows you need them—“
Rebecca rolled her eyes and tuned her out, and watched as she lifted a hand to cup it over her mouth, calling “Ollie!!” at the top of her lungs, and noted that the boy looked oddly familiar-
Wait a minute, Rebecca thought, realization dawning on her as the boy turned around, finding herself meeting bright green eyes with her own hazel eyes. Oh, motherfucker-
Ollie Potter stood before her, green eyes glimmering curiosity as they flickered from Penny to her. Of course, Penny Haywood would date Ollie bloody Potter, Rebecca screams internally. Pretty popular Penny Haywood with her pretty long hair and sparkling eyes WOULD date Ollie Potter who has a snake and puffskein for pets and emeralds as eyes, what the fuck-
“Ollie,” Penny said happily, pushing her in front of her. “This is Rebecca. A friend of mine. Rebecca this is Ollie.”
Rebecca fought the urge to hide behind the blonde. “Hi,” she said, eyeing him warily. Is he arrogant? Is he kind? She never knows with the rumors.
Ollie flashes her a smile, although his eyes shone with cautiousness. Rebecca approves. “Hi,” he greets back.
It never really went farther than that. Rebecca never voluntarily approached him and they never exchanged a word other than a passing “hello” unless Penny decided to drag her into a conversation, which Rebecca doesn’t really fancy as she ends up being a third wheel anyway. One thing that came out of it was Rebecca’s opinion of him going down to merely “he’s okay” but never more than that. When they did truly talk, it was ironically after their breakup.
Lazily floating through the air, Rebecca held on to her broom with one hand and leaned to the right, a frown flickering on her face when she noticed someone sitting on the fountain lid, someone with white fluffy hair.
She knew only one person with white fluffy hair. Remembering what Penny told her (and did, she thought with a flush) she urged her broom down, hair blowing past her shoulders as she flew closer to the Slytherin.
“Potter,” she spoke up, hovering above his head. She watched him jump and look up, her lips curling into a smile as she watched his expression shift. “A knut for your thoughts?”
“Um…” Emerald eyes flickered away nervously, then back at her and she rolled her eyes.
“I’m not going to bite, y’know,” she said, drifting closer to the ground and hopping off. She carefully placed her broom down and sat next to him, glancing over to him. “Penny told me some stuff and I decided to drop by.”
“Oh,” he said, his eyes drifting to his lap. “How much did she told you?”
“Only that you two broke up,” she told him, yanking her shoes and socks off and setting them on the ground beside her broom. She dipped her feet in the water and stared as the water curled around them, feeling none of the coolness as she turned a frown to him, “What’s up with that anyway?”
With those words, he spilled. He talked about Talbott and his apparent fling with him, how he obliviated him of his memories with him and how he only recently regained them. Her frown only deepened as he continued on to explain his confrontation with Talbott, which lead to the breakup. Thinking back, Rebecca thought it was strange that he’ll spill his guts out to someone he only knew through Penny but considering she is close to her, it wouldn’t be too much of a surprise that he told her because of that.
“And I’m assuming you’re sitting here thinking about your feelings for both of them,” she said once he stopped to catch his breath. She pretended not to notice the tears on his cheeks, merely passing him a tissue.
Ollie rubbed his eyes and nodded. “Yeah I… I don’t know whether or not my feelings for Penny are actually genuine, or if it’s because of the memory wipe,” he said softly. “I’m scared that I was using her this whole-”
She splashed water at him with her foot, not flinching when he recoiled, turning wide eyes at her. “Oi oi, stop that,” she said, folding her arms. “Penny doesn’t blame you for this mess. How do you even feel during your relationship with her?”
Ollie opened his mouth, then closed it, frowning. “Strange...” Ollie furrowed his brows and drew his legs to his chest. “Like… Like something’s missing.”
“Elaborate.” Rebecca moved her feet back and forth, watching the water swish around her feet.
“It only grew stronger as I dated her,” he continued. “Sometimes during a date, I’d reach out to touch her face and then get a weird flashback of doing the same to someone else, someone I now remember as Talbott,” he mused softly.
Rebecca held her temple. “Oh dear, this is a mess.” She held up a finger. “I’m going to be very very harsh here, but it’s realistic and I don’t like sugarcoating things.” She looked at him in the eye. “Either way, both of them are going to be hurt. Talbott is going to be hurt and even if you say that you don’t care, he’s still someone you loved in the past and before that, a dear friend. Penny’s going to be hurt too. Whatever if it’s you choosing Talbott or the feelings you had for her really is because of the memory wipe.”
Ollie flinched violently and squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t want to hurt her,” he murmured. “She’s a nice girl — I was happy with her, really.”
“She’ll move on. Both of them,” Rebecca said, feeling pity. The poor guy, stuck in such a horrible mess. “Heartbreak is hard.” She closes her eyes, remembering the deep ache that she can’t place a finger on what it means months before. “The only thing we can do is move on.”
“Yeah,” he muttered, his eyes flickering to her. “You would know how that feels, right? You liked her.”
Rebecca’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t like her that way,” she denied. “Did I…?” She trailed off, thinking about her times with Penny. The pain in her chest whenever she saw her with Ollie, the butterflies in her stomach when she smiled at her… “Oh Merlin, I did.”
Ollie gave her a little smirk and despite the fact that it was at her own expense, it makes her pleased to see it. “I noticed you always have this pained look in your eyes around us and sorta pieced it together,” he admitted. “Your eyes will always linger on her. She makes you happy, right? I know you make her happy too.”
“I’m not going to be a rebound for her,” Rebecca said quietly. She bit her lip and thought about her curse, trying not to think about her inevitable death. Not wanting to turn the water to ice, Rebecca drew her legs to her chest. “And it wouldn’t work out. I don’t have feelings for her anymore. I moved on and I don’t want to force myself to like her again.”
“Well, Penny was a rebound for me in a way.”
“Potter!”
“In a way! I…” he trailed off and frowned at her. After staring for a few minutes, he pushed, “Are you sure about that? Are you sure you moved on? You really don’t like her anymore?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Rebecca folded her arms defensively across her chest. “What are you going with this, Potter?”
Ollie cocked his head to the side, still frowning. “You don’t look like you’ve moved on. You sound unsure, less certain.”
Rebecca opened her mouth, then closed it as she thought about her feelings toward Penny. “I don’t really know, but I’m not in a rush to figure it out. I’ll know eventually.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe you should do the same. Take a break from romance. Think about your feelings. Love is complicated and this whole situation is messy, so maybe time will help you think.”
Ollie averted his eyes. “Maybe. I don’t know, I’m just confused on how I feel. About both of them.”
“Love is complicated,” Rebecca repeated. “Love sucks and burns you from the inside and leaves you wanting more. Yeah it’s beautiful and it keeps you going, but it also hurts you. It takes time to figure it out and it’s exactly what you need right now.”
“I… guess,” Ollie said, closing his eyes. He gave her a small smile and Rebecca immediately pushed away the feeling of awe raising inside of her. “Thanks, Rebecca.”
She patted his shoulder and pulled away, lifting her feet out of the water to pick up her broom. “Not a problem.”
—————
4th Year was off to a great start. After the horrible summer she had, she’s been getting flashbacks upon flashbacks and it certainly doesn’t help with all the negative spotlight on her. She’s learned to never walk alone unless she wanted to be tripped and it’s fairly easy, finding herself walking with Andre or Penny to classes
But she can’t be so lucky continuously, because Andre and Penny don’t share some of her classes. They can’t stick with her 24/7. So it’s really no wonder she finds her foot getting snagged against something and proceeding to tumble to the ground hard.
In the corner of her eye, she notices someone moving toward her, only to be pushed away by a wall of people that circled around her. She appreciates the effort though, even as a foot slams into her side.
“Seriously?!” Samuel Lockwood laughed as he looked down at her, smirking. He was the one who tripped her. She knew this for sure. He kicked at her again. “You’re still here?”
“Stop crying for attention,” Someone— she can't tell who it is, but it was familiar for sure — sneered, aiming a kick at her. “We know you’re not the victim here.”
“Murderer.” Kick.
“Why would Dumbledore let someone like you be in school?” Kick.
“No mommy to protect you here.” Belinda Murray sneered. Kick.
“You’re no better than a death eater.” Kick.
“Hey—“
“Nobody wants a murderer here.” Kick.
“Get out while you can. It’s better for all of us.” Kick.
“Egwu and Haywood really lowered their standards for you huh?” Kick.
A long time ago, she would have fought back with everything she got using her teeth and nails, but she’s not that person anymore. Her time with the Caldwells taught her fighting back will only make it worse and that lesson won’t be unlearned anytime soon. Rebecca felt herself going slack, letting blow after blow rain down on her. Just let it happen and it’ll be over soon…
“Hey!”
Slowly, the kicks stopped. Confusion swept over her, and she lifted her head just in time to see Ollie driving his fist into Lockwood’s gut, a furious expression etched on his face. Rebecca winced as Ollie grasped Lockwood’s collar, swinging back and punching him in the face and covered her eyes, peeking from under her fingers and staring in disbelief at the scene she’s witnessing, because it’s the first time someone other than Andre or Penny defended her.
“Ollie?”
Ollie glanced at her and dropped Lockwood like a rag doll. In seconds, he moved to her side, smiling gently despite the fact that he just beat up one of her main bullies. “Hey,” he said, stretching out a hand to her and letting her take it, before wrapping his hands around her arms and pulling her to her feet. “Let’s go. We need to get you to the Hospital Wing,” he said, then shot everyone around them a glare, “and away from these scum.”
Averting her eyes, Rebecca refuses to look at him, opting to instead lean her weight against his shoulder. Not that it was hard. She felt a hand taking her arm and wrapping it around his shoulders, and she has to force herself not to recoil away.
There’s this sort of… ringing in her ears that drowns out the whispers that rose as Ollie tugged her pass the crowd. She doesn’t need to hear the whispers to know that they’re talking about her, not even with Ollie’s frequent glares aimed at the crowd around her. Too busy trying to put one foot over the other, she doesn't realize where she’s going until her foot hits something hard.
Stopping in her tracks, her eyes slowly moved down, going first to her bag, ripped up with one of the straps cut cleanly off, then to her ink-soaked textbooks laying haphazardly on the ground, and finally, her sketchbook ripped and shredded beyond recognition.
Ba-thump. She can’t seem to move. Everything in there, her dreams and passions and the love poured into its pages ruined and gone.
Ba-thump. And then Ollie is standing in front of her, holding her shoulders gently in his hands as he calls out her name, his brow furrowed with concern, concern that only grows when she doesn’t respond.
Ba-thump. She can’t fucking b r e athe
They must have stolen it from her while she was being beaten and ripped it up. Lockwood’s work, she can see his h an dwr i ting, etching slurs and insults on the remains of the pages.
The archer tugs back the string, releasing the arrow, and her world comes crashing down, and a single tear rolls down her cheek
“Caldwells don’t cry.”
She doesn’t need to look up to know it's her grandfather and her shoulders raise in panic, trying desperately to suck in air and failing and failing and failing. Phantom hands are wrapping around her arms and throat and squeezing tightly and she can’t breathe. Get off get off get off get off-
STOOOOOPPPPP.
A wave of calmness suddenly washed over her. It sends shivers of warmth down her arms, her legs, her torso, splashing over her like a warm hug. It’s soft, kind, and it makes her relax… and she hates it. She has never been fond of things in her mind and if it can force her to calm down like this, it gives her a reason to hate it even more. She had struggled against it, panic rising at the foreign presence in her mind even as a voice drifted in her mind, drowning out her grandfather’s voice. But the more she struggled, the stronger the calmness grew, and eventually, her vision clears and she finds herself stumped on the ground. Through blurry vision, she can see Ollie sitting at a respectful distance, talking gently.
“Can you hear me now? Nod once if you do. Good good, slow your breathing. You’re still gasping for air. Breathe in to 4. Breathe out to 4. 4 in. 4 out. That’s it.”
Slowly, she started getting back to reality. The calmness is still there and she hates it, she doesn’t know what it is but it manages to keep her calm and she wants it out of her head if it can control it. She doesn’t know what it is, but it’s coming from Ollie and she doesn’t like it. When he saw her breathing slow into a normal rate, he smiles and reaches over, stopping when he sees her immediately flinching away from his hand.
“Can you get up?” He asked softly. She shook her head and jerked it away, refusing to make eye contact. “I’m going to pick you up, okay? You still need to get to the hospital wing.”
Rebecca doesn’t answer, even as he carefully hoists her on his back and starts moving to the Hospital Wing, even as he carefully pushes through the corridors.
Because she doesn’t think she’ll ever see him the same way ever again.
—————
Rebecca never seems to be able to sleep in the hospital wing. Every time Pomfrey told her to rest and every time, she ends up laying on her back and staring at the white ceiling, watching the time tick by. Her hands were covered with gloves and spelled with a sticking charm so she won’t pick at her cuticles from sheer boredom, and her sketchbook is still destroyed, so she can’t draw. But either she attempts to go to sleep, or run around the hospital wing and risk agitating her injuries AND angering Pomfrey.
So attempt to sleep it is.
Groaning, she rolls on her side, ignoring the dull aches in her side, and goes to close her eyes, when she hears flapping wings whooshing over her head. It can’t be Aurora, it’ll be silent. So, opening her eyes, she very nearly jolts out of her bed when she finds herself face to face with a white crow seeing by her bedside.
“WHAT THE FU—” She starts to shout, before the bird shifts from a bird, to Ollie bloody Potter, who jumps on her bed and slaps a hand over her mouth.
“Shush!” He whisper-yells, sounding panicked. “Do you want to wake up Pomfrey?”
“I’m sorry if I’m surprised when I find right in the face of a white crow, who - by the way - was you!” Rebecca whispered to him, pulling his hand off her mouth and scooting over to allow him room to sit. As mad as she is about… whatever that was, maybe he’ll be here to explain. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
Ollie shrugged and sat cross-legged on the bed. “I wanted to check on you and give you this,” he murmured, pulling out a sketchbook, her sketchbook. “I managed to fix it while you were here — I had a lot of trial and error but it’s good as new And… I was a bit impatient to wait until morning.”
“My sketchbook!” Rebecca gasped, taking it in her hands with care. It's definitely it. It has her name on it. She carefully flips it open. The pages weren’t shredded and she can see the lines where the rips were. The stitching is back to its normal tension and even the best ends were straightened out. None of the slurs and insults were written on her drawings. It was as if nobody touched it. “Thank you but… Check on me?” She frowned, carefully sitting up. “Why? You’ve done enough when you forcefully calmed me down and took me to the hospital wing.”
She didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh but it did because he flinched and looked down guiltily. “Right, about that,” he sighed. “I’m… sorry for being terrible at comforting you.” She folded her arms and waited as he struggled with his words. “I’ve never been good at comforting people, at all, so I always took the easy way out. I’ll never know what to do if I didn’t have my veela powers-”
Her eyebrows went up. “You’re a veela?” She blurted out loudly before she could stop herself. Wincing, she lowered her face again. “That’s what the feeling from before was?”
A flash of amusement flickered over his face. She couldn’t see in the darkness very well, but she knew it was there. “Yeah, only ¼ though. My father was ½ and my grandmother was full veela. You didn’t know?”
Rebecca rolled her eyes. “People talked about the Son of The Chosen One so many times, it’s getting a bit creepy. I’ve long since tuned them out. I wanted to know about people when I talk to them, and not from other people who have already formed a biased opinion of them. Don’t look so surprised,” she told him, seeing the agape look on his face. “Why do you think I never looked at you with starry eyes?”
Ollie closed his mouth and his shoulders relaxed. He’s smiling, contented; relieved even. “Sorry,” he murmured. “People look at me and never think of just Ollie. They just see the son of Harry Potter.”
She sighed. “Too bad for them. They don’t see the real you. By the way,” she reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I forgive you. You did it in the only way you know how to. Just… don’t do it without warning me next time unless you absolutely have to, alright? Promise?”
Ollie smiles wider and touches her hand. “Promise.”
#this is so bad and im sorry it took so long but i hope it makes you happy#ily ness#ollie potter#penny haywood#rebecca lord#lockwood gang#hphm#hphm fic#hphm fanfiction#hphm fanfic#hogwarts mystery#lunar writes
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