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maatryoshkaa · 3 years

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between the lines | lee minho

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒!𝐀𝐔

✑ Late fines, shared lockers, and a missing love letter:

In which a frantic search for an overdue library book leads to you finding other things that are...long overdue.

✑ PAIRING: student librarian!minho x bookworm!reader

✑ GENRE: retro!high school au, slow burn, slice-of-life romance, slight enemies-to-lovers shenanigans

✑ WORD COUNT: 9.7k

✖︎ TAGS/WARNINGS: fem!reader, mild language, bullying themes, skz are all around the same age. mc is insecure and a bit of a valentine's day grinch. minho is whipped but too hardheaded to admit it. also, an embarrassing amount of classic literature/pablo neruda references.

Ah, Valentine’s Day.

Call it the most romantic day of the year if you will, but in the treacherous hallways of Levanter High, it meant a minefield of hormonal couples, crushed chocolate boxes, and supermarket rose bouquets. Clutching your backpack with a grimace, you narrowly dodged a pigtailed cheerleader as she leapt into her jock boyfriend’s waiting arms. Turning into another hallway, you plugged your ears to block out a senior boy’s cold rejection of a freshman’s nervous love confession.

You finally caught sight of your locker and breathed a sigh of relief. Levanter High’s lockers were split in half lengthwise—one top row, and one bottom row. You dropped to a crouch to wrench yours open—you’d lost your lock a couple of weeks ago—trying to block out the early morning commotion as you rummaged for your English books.

“Hey, watch ou—”

The locker above yours opened with a screech, and you looked up just in time to see a pink avalanche of cards and chocolates raining down on your head in a painful, deafening crash. The student who had called out the warning was frozen with a comical look of shock on her face. You swore the entire hallway fell silent, blood rushing to your cheeks as you slowly raised your gaze at the person who had opened the locker.

Lee Hana—head cheerleader of Levanter’s pep squad, and in your humble opinion, the spawn of Satan herself.

“Ohmigosh,” she exclaimed, raising one hand to her mouth in mock horror, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there.”

The crowd around you was beginning to snicker and point, and you felt your face growing redder by the minute. “What are you doing here?” You asked tersely, motioning towards the locker above yours. “That’s not even your locker.”

Hana smiled and held up a small, glittery package. Oh. You didn’t have to look closer to know that the envelope was a love letter, elaborately tied to a box of expensive chocolates—the kind your parents would probably have to work overtime to afford. “My Valentine—for your locker buddy,” Hana replied matter-of-factly, then added, “Not that you would understand, hm? Since you’ve never received one yourself, and all.”

A smattering of laughs erupted from the crowd that was building around you. Biting back a retort, you looked down at all the other Valentine’s trinkets that had spilled around you. Of course—you should have gotten used to it by now. After all, your locker was right underneath the one that belonged to the student librarian, school heartthrob, and the absolute bane of your existence, Lee—

“Minho!” Hana exclaimed, and you looked up to see him shuffling through the crowd, his eyes briefly falling on yours. You immediately turned away as the pretty cheerleader skipped up to him, and shoved your books into your bag. Slamming your locker shut—twice, because Levanter’s damned lockers always jammed before shutting properly—you snatched up as many of Minho’s fallen Valentine’s Day trinkets as you could before shoving them back into the now-emptied top locker. The metal door was still swinging wide open. You’d overheard Minho complaining to the boy who always did the announcements—Han Jihyun? Han Jisung?—about how he kept losing his own lock. Both of you seemed to have a habit of misplacing things (not that you liked to admit to that similarity).

Out of the corner of your eye, Minho was still watching you over Hana’s shoulder, his lips tilted in a half-smile. Your gut twisted unpleasantly. Four years and counting—that was how long you’d ended up with a locker right under Minho’s.

“You’re so lucky!” Lia—your best friend—had gushed, while you had scoffed in utter disbelief.

“Oh, sure. Just my rotten luck.”

“Come on, y/n. Are you still hung up about that love letter from freshman year?”

Yes, you had thought sourly. “No way,” you had snapped, and Lia had giggled, unconvinced.

It wasn’t like you’d always had a personal vendetta against Minho. In fact, in ninth grade, you’d been head over heels for him, just like the rest of the student body—to the point where you’d even slipped a small love letter into his locker on Valentine’s Day, too. It had been one of those gaudy 99-cent corner-store cards, and you'd saved up your pocket money just to buy a matching pack of candy hearts. Then you’d spent the day with butterflies in your stomach, anxiously waiting nearby his locker to see his reaction.

But when he hadn’t shown up, you'd shrugged and begun heading home—and that was when you had caught sight of Minho, throwing all the love letters he’d received straight into the Dumpsters in the back parking lot.

Talk about a reality check.

As if that hadn't been traumatizing enough, you’d been forced to face him nearly every morning for the following three years. To make matters worse, being Minho’s involuntary locker mate also meant that all the girls—and guys, for that matter—saw you as little more than a stepping stone to him, always asking you to relay party invitations or trying to curry favour with you to get to him.

“We’re not close,” you’d insist to his persistent admirers every time, but it didn’t help. Minho, on the other hand, you thought bitterly, seemed to think he was too good for anyone—he didn’t even respond much to Hana’s advances, and she was drop-dead gorgeous. There was no way he’d even look twice at you—you’d been firsthand witness to that. You finally gave up trying to clean up the fallen Valentines, and stood up with a sigh. Throwing him a death glare, you pushed past the crowd just as the bell rang and students began scurrying away.

What did it matter if Lee Hana was trying to get with Minho? If anything, they were a match made in heaven. Or hell. With a decided huff, you plopped yourself down at your desk just as your English teacher began class.

“We’re starting the poetry unit today! Remember, you’ll be writing a love poem of your own for the final project—so I suggest you all get started on reading!” You teacher had winked and clapped her hands excitedly while a collective groan had swept through your class. A few couples had nudged each other meaningfully, already promising to write their poems about each other, and you’d thrown up a little in your mouth.

Romance was a bit of a touchy subject for you— now, you didn’t hate the notion of love, per se, you’d just always been somewhat...wary of it. After watching your friends fall in and out of disastrous relationships and fleeting feelings from the sidelines too many times to count, your own defense mechanisms had skyrocketed, and now you found yourself trying not to roll your eyes at every piece of romantic writing you read. Still, this inexperience only made you more determined to get a head start on the topic— and so, once the last bell had rung, you made a beeline for the school library. You would tackle love the only way you knew how to—by hitting the books. Pushing open the door, you overheard Hana and her friends muttering in disappointment and immediately recoiled.

“You said he’d be in here!”

“Well, I thought I saw him! Let’s wait for a bit.”

You peeked over the librarian’s desk, and sure enough, it was vacant— save for a tray of half-shelved books and stamping cards. Maybe Minho left early today, you thought, shrugging. That’s a relief. Then you shook your head quickly. What’s it to me whether he’s here or not? You tried to ignore Hana’s disdainful glance at you, heading straight towards your favourite nook at the back of the library instead: a cozy alcove tucked behind the last row of shelves. With a deep sigh, you pulled out the first book of poetry your teacher had assigned—Shakespeare’s Complete Sonnets—and sank into the bean bag chair.

‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May…’

A couple lines in, and the Englishman’s words were already making your head spin. You grimaced, massaging your temples. ‘A summer’s day?’ Seriously? You could swear you’d seen something less cheesy on a dollar store card. After a couple of pages, you could already feel your treacherous eyelids beginning to droop, fighting to stay awake as you tried to make sense of Shakespeare’s verses. But thy eternal summer...shall not fade...nor lose...possession…

“The library’s closing.”

You jolted awake, hands fumbling blindly before you could even force your eyes open. The library came into focus first—the lights had been dimmed, the flickering EXIT sign from the empty hallway casting a warm glow through the panelled window across the room. A dull headache still throbbed in your temples.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes groggily. You had to practically peel your cheek away from the Shakespeare book, fingers gingerly feeling the dent the cover had left in your cheek. “I-I’m so sorry, I must have—lost track of time studying.”

A familiar chuckle sent your heart plummeting to your stomach. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

When your eyes finally adjusted, your expression automatically soured into a glare.

“Now that’s more like it.” Smirking, Minho crossed his arms, leaning back on a bookshelf. He glanced down at the book in your lap—the book that you clearly hadn’t been studying. “Didn’t know you were one for Shakespeare.”

“I—” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m not. His writing gives me a headache. It’s like it’s all in another language or something.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Old English. Why are you reading it, then?”

“We’re doing poetry in class—and our final project is to write an actual love poem, based on the poets we’ll study. Shakespeare was just first on the reading list, so…” you felt yourself trailing off, flustered. Why were you even bothering to explain this to Minho, who probably couldn’t care less? “Nevermind.”

You felt his piercing gaze on you as you shoved your books into your bag, glancing outside at the nearly emptied parking lot. If you squinted, you could spot a couple—Seo Changbin, judging by the male’s iconic leather jacket, and his lover—making out under the bleachers. You shook your head incredulously. Valentine’s Day. Love poems. Hormonal couples galore. It was like the universe was playing a long, cruel joke on you: Ha-ha, look who’s spending Valentine’s Day studying in the library alone.

Well, alone except for a student librarian with whom you had a mortifying history. Not much better. Eager to leave, you got to your feet, only to see Minho flipping through a smaller book he’d pulled off the shelf next to him. “If you want some real inspiration,” he began slowly, pushing up his glasses, “I’d suggest you start closer to our time period.”

You looked down at the book he was holding up, brow furrowing as you read the title out loud. “Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair. Pablo Neruda.”

“The best Chilean poet of the 20th century,” he nodded. “‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving but this.’”

It took you a second to realise Minho was quoting a poem, and you were suddenly grateful that the dimly lit library hid the flush of red that had betrayed your cheeks. Clearing your throat, you mumbled, “That actually sounds...kind of pretty.”

He didn’t look up, but you thought you saw the corners of his mouth shoot up ever so slightly. Maybe the shadows were playing tricks on you? Flipping through the book, Minho fished out a pad of sticky notes from his back pocket and marked a few pages. “Here. ‘The Song of Despair’...‘Tonight I Can Write’...‘Here I Love You.’ Those are good.” Clamping the book shut, he held it out towards you.

You almost thanked him, but the words faltered on your tongue as you took it from him suspiciously. “What’s with the sudden helpful attitude?”

He shrugged. “It’s my job.” You raised an incredulous eyebrow, and he smirked. “Consider it my apology for this morning, then.”

That left you at a real loss for words, and for the first time, you struggled to find a retort. “That’s...considerate of you, apologising on behalf of your girlfriend and all.”

“Hana’s not my girlfriend.”

You breathed a small laugh. “Soon-to-be, then. Don’t break her heart.”

Minho scoffed, bringing the book to the front desk and scrawling your name on the sign-out card. He stamped the dates, then held it out at you before glancing out the window. Dusk had fallen, the empty football field lit only by rows of flickering lampposts. “You can get home safe?”

“Screw off, Lee Minho.” You eyed him warily, shoving the book into your bag before practically running to the double doors. The strange atmosphere that had suddenly built up in the library felt terrifyingly foreign to you, and your first instinct was to be rid of it as soon as possible. In the hallway, you spotted a janitor dumping a bin into a trash bag. A familiar avalanche of pink envelopes and gifts caught your eye, and you felt a wave of humiliation. Just the memory of Minho throwing yours out—after reading it and having a good laugh, no doubt—made you want to ram your head into the lockers all over again. You’ve got no chance with him, y/n, you thought blearily. Right when you’d thought you’d finally come to terms with Minho’s brutal (albeit unintentional) rejection, here he was again: crashing back into your life like some...cat-eyed, pointy-nosed meteor.

“Oh, y/n! One more thing.”

You’d already had one foot out the front door when Minho called your name again, making you jerk your head back in surprise. Minho had his bag slung over one shoulder, a pile of books in his arms as he waved to get your attention. His smile looked almost...genuine in the warm shadows, his round glasses softening his usually sharp gaze. Despite yourself, you felt your heart skip a beat.

Then Minho made a wiping motion over his face and grinned. “You’ve got drool on your chin.”

Your face reddened, and you slammed the library door shut, earning a glare from the janitor down the hall. Smacking the heel of your palm against your forehead repeatedly, you stormed out of the school muttering curses under your breath. Typical Lee Minho.

To your surprise, you practically devoured the poems in less than a week, taken aback at how much you genuinely enjoyed them. It was the first time you didn’t find yourself cringing at romance—and sure enough, in a couple days’ time, you found yourself reluctantly standing back in front of the double doors of the school library once again.

Carefully, you craned your head to peep into the panelled window, scanning the room for Minho. As per usual, a gaggle of girls were huddled on the other side, blocking your view.

“Looking for someone?”

Flinching, you nearly tripped on Hana’s long legs as she came up beside you. Before you could respond, she fixed you with a withering look. “You’ve got some explaining to do, Little Miss Perfect.”

“I—sorry?”

The cheerleader rolled her eyes, sneering. “Don’t act all innocent with me, you sneaky b—”

Sighing, you pushed open the doors before she could finish. Hana followed you into the library, still sputtering angrily. Her hand snatched your arm, French manicure digging painfully into your cardigan.

“The Valentines,” she hissed, and it finally clicked.

She’s talking about the love letters, you realized. The ones Minho throws out every year.

Gut twisting, you looked up to see all the other girls crossing their arms and looking back at you expectantly. “None of you...got a response?” You asked incredulously, already knowing the answer. This happened every year: Expectant admirers showered Minho’s locker with gifts, Minho wouldn’t even glance at them— and then, for some reason, you were left to take the blame. A twinge of annoyance shot through your chest.

“You stole them from his locker, didn’t you?” Hana continued accusingly, pupils shaking. “You sneaky, jealous bitch— of course you did.”

He threw them all out, you wanted to scream back at her, but the words wouldn’t budge from your tongue. Somehow, saying them out loud felt like tearing off the stitches of an old wound; a painful reminder of your personal humiliating memory. And—though you hated to admit it—a small part of you still didn’t have the heart to throw Minho under the bus just yet, even after all that he’d done.

Feeling defeated, you sighed and turned towards her. “Why would I want to do that?”

Hana scoffed, tossing her chocolate curls over one shoulder. “Oh, please. We all know you’ve had a massive one-sided crush on him since ninth grade.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks, the other girls’ snickers at your reaction drowning out any of your protests. “That’s not—”

“Not true? Then—is it mutual?” Hana sneered mockingly. “Don’t make me laugh. He wouldn’t be caught dead with the likes of y—”

“Can I help you with anything?”

The small crowd fell silent as Minho appeared from one of the aisles, eyebrows raised slightly in his usual nonchalant manner. A chill of panic rushed down your spine, palms growing clammy with cold sweat. H-how much did he overhear? In your peripheral, Hana was practically batting her eyelashes at him, but Minho’s mild eyes were focused on yours expectantly.

“I—uh. Well,” you stammered eloquently, your entire body suddenly paralyzed. Hana’s cherry red lips were twisted in a smug smirk, clearly waiting for you to embarrass yourself. “The book,” you blurted, immediately rummaging for the poetry book in your bag and holding it out to him.

Minho took it from you, fingertips grazing yours slightly. They were surprisingly warm. “How’d you find it?”

“R-really good, actually.” Then, you hesitantly added, “I...like the way Neruda uses imagery—he’s precise without being plain, and artful without deviating too much into purple prose. I think I liked Tonight I Can Write the most— y’know, ‘Tonight I can write the saddest lines...’” You swallowed, then instantly began regretting having ever spoken. Great job, y/n, now you sound like a full-blown nerd.

But Minho nodded, his eyes gleaming. “‘I loved her, and sometimes, she loved me, too.’”

“That’s the second verse,” you muttered automatically, and his lips twitched.

“It’s one of my favourite lines.”

The other girls had begun to awkwardly shuffle out of the library, their absence easing your racing heart. With just a few mildly spoken words, you noted, Minho had managed to make you feel as though you had blocked out the rest of the world. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Hana glaring daggers at you, and the small smile dropped from your face.

“Do you need something?” Minho asked her blankly, his gaze trailing down to Hana’s hand, which was still painfully latched onto your arm. With a roll of her eyes, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the library.

As soon as she was gone, you breathed an audible sigh of relief. Minho was peeling the sticky notes off from the poetry book you’d returned, eyes still watching you intently. Giving him the side-eye, you deadpanned, “She’s pretty, you know. Maybe you should go talk to her sometime.”

There was a small smile on Minho’s lips. “Does she like Chilean poetry?”

You could only give a short—slightly too shaky for your liking—laugh in response, ruffling your own hair as you tried to calm your frazzled nerves. Don’t forget, y/n. One, that he’s out of your league. Two, how this was all his fault to begin with.

“Is that all you came here for?” Minho’s voice broke into your thoughts again, making you jump. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes. He finds this—me—amusing.

“Well…” you looked down at your feet, then grudgingly nodded at the poetry book you’d just returned. “Do you...have any other recommendations?”

Minho’s face broke into a shit-eating grin, and you bit back a groan. before your pride got the better of you and you changed your mind, he was already heading towards the back of the library, sliding books out as you struggled to keep with his pace. “First of all, Dickinson. Hit-or-miss, but you never know. Then there’s Sylvia Plath, some Emily Brontë…”

Before you knew it, you’d been whisked into a world of verse and metaphor, flying between numerous time periods and continents as you and Minho perused the shelves. Just like the time when you had accidentally fallen asleep in the library, the library seemed to grow cozier, quieter, more peaceful during moments like these, as if the entire world was holding still as you lost yourself in pages upon pages of books. Soon, you found yourself heading to the library nearly every day after school. Despite yourself, you found yourself looking forward to that sunset hour, the fleeting period where most students had left, and the entire library would glow warm as though it were blushing under the swathes of golden light. And in these same fleeting moments, you found your gaze lingering more and more on Minho—the way he would push his silver glasses on, furrowing his brow in concentration whenever he searched for a book, or run his long fingers over their worn spines whenever he was lost in thought—

“Like what you see?” With a flinch, you realised Minho had begun walking back towards you, a crooked smirk on his lips as he set a new pile of books down at the desk you were sat at.

“No!” You snapped, too quickly. “Just—spaced out for a bit. Too concentrated on the project.”

The smirk hadn’t budged from Minho’s face, and you resisted the urge to throw a copy of Emily Dickinson’s Selected Poems at his long, pointy nose. “Mm. You seem to be coming here a lot more often.”

“That’s because the due date is coming up.”

“No. I mean, you seem to be talking to me a lot more.”

You rolled your eyes, snatching a book from the top of his pile as you muttered, “Screw you, Lee Minho.”

His eyebrows shot up in wicked mischief. “You’re more than welcome to try.”

With a cry of exasperation—and surprise at having been heard—you hoisted your book bag onto the table, building a makeshift wall between the two of you.

You didn’t catch the way Minho’s laughter slowly faded as he rested his head on one hand thoughtfully, quietly watching you read. Your lips were pursed in concentration as you muttered your notes under your breath. Cute, he couldn’t help thinking.

Minho had always been good at memorizing things, but he couldn’t remember exactly when you’d begun disliking him so much. You had always intrigued him—what with the way your locker always seemed to be overflowing with books, or how you used to lend him your copy when he forgot his, back in ninth grade. That Valentine’s Day, four years ago, your name had been the only one he’d hoped to find as he rifled through the cards he’d received. But he’d come up empty, and so he’d thrown them all out. And for some reason, you’d been cold to him ever since.

Minho had assumed that you were probably annoyed with all the letters that would fall out of his locker and onto you, and so every year he tried his best to get rid of the Valentines as soon as possible. Nevertheless, you only seemed to be getting more and more annoyed with him.

And now here you were, right in front of him, four years later, and he still couldn’t bring himself to ask you why. Confrontation had never been his strong suit—his words always seemed to come out too blunt, too cold, too soon, and so he’d always avoided bringing it up with you again. Minho sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Written words—that is, books—had always been so much easier than people.

He did, however, remember when he’d started falling for you.

Tenth grade, literature studies. He’d begun arguing against your thesis during one of your presentations, and the two of you had ended up bickering the entire class—pulling out quotes from nearly every chapter of Pride and Prejudice before the class president had to intervene, and your teacher had sent you both to detention.

You had glared at him once, and he’d fallen head over heels.

These violent delights have violent ends, he’d mused in his head back then—Romeo and Juliet—and with the murderous stare Minho sometimes caught you fixing him with, he was willing to bet that you were wishing a violent end on him, too.

He couldn’t pen a love letter to save his life, either— and so, he resorted to pettily glaring at any admirer that approached your locker like Gandalf—you shall not pass—until they backed off. Minho didn’t think you would appreciate him revealing that, either. The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous his actions seemed—and like a poorly written plot twist, you had ended up stumbling back into his life again. Never in his life, however, did Minho think that Pablo Neruda would become his wingman. Glancing down at his portrait on the back cover of the book, Minho could almost imagine the Chilean poet pointing his pen threateningly: “Don’t screw this up.”

“Hey, Minho?” He snapped out of his thoughts to see you waving your hand at him from the other side of your book bag. “You were right. I don’t get any of Dickinson’s poems.”

Your words took a moment to register, Minho caught off-guard by the soft golden hour light illuminating your pretty features. You waved your hand in his face again, and he blinked, breath caught in his throat. Almost tripping over his tongue, he finally quipped, “How on earth are you passing AP English?”

You glowered and smacked his shoulder, the near-silent library ringing with Minho’s laughter once again.

With a week left to the deadline, you were planted at your desk in your room, the wastebasket littered with crumpled up half-sheets of notebook paper. To your dismay, none of the words seemed to be coming out the way you wanted them to. Gnawing the back of your pencil in frustration, you dumped the contents of your book bag onto the desk, and spotted your latest library book—100 Love Sonnets, by Pablo Neruda. Inexplicably, out of all the poets Minho had introduced to you, you always found yourself coming back to him.

Flipping through the well-thumbed pages, your fingers stopped at one titled Sonnet XVII. “I love you without knowing how,” your eyes scanned the verse curiously, “or when, or from where. I love you simply…”

It was the poem Minho had quoted that evening in the library, you realized, heart skipping a beat. “...without problems or pride / I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving / but this, in which there is no I or you / so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand / so intimate that when I fall asleep, your eyes close.”

With a sigh, you buried your head in your arms, lying face-down onto the desk. Maybe the reason why you instinctively disliked reading love poems so much was because of the sheer sincerity of them all. You envied their ability to put feelings into words—with unabashed, unapologetic ardour, and be celebrated for it, to boot. Eyes scanning the verses again, your mind wandered to the way Minho’s eyes had lit up as he’d explained the lines to you, his brow furrowed in focus.

At Levanter High, you had grown used to being pushed around and out of the spotlight. It was either the popular girls and their backhanded compliments, or the boys who spoke to you condescendingly just to a) get you to do their homework, or b) get in your pants. But Minho had always taken you seriously, albeit while driving you half-insane with his infuriating remarks. And as much as you hated to admit it, that same fiery look in his eyes whenever he got worked up—so different from his usual reserved facade in front of the teachers and swooning students—had always made your heart skip a beat. In tenth grade—back when he seemed to pick a fight with you nearly every English class until Bang Chan had to hold the two of you back from killing each other—you’d thought you’d successfully quashed your feelings for the mild-voiced, hazel-eyed librarian. Yet every time he spoke, he left you feeling vulnerable, disarmed, and you were back—though you refused to admit it—to square one.

“‘I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul,’” you whispered, fingers tracing the words on the paper. Feeling a sudden surge—of confidence, or simply exasperation, you weren’t sure—you seized the pen and began scribbling on a new piece of paper. For years, you’d been afraid to face your feelings, terrified of the humiliation if Hana—or anyone at school—found out. But if getting them all out in one cheesy, hot mess of a love letter could give you some closure, you thought tensely, you were more than happy to oblige. You would write it all out under the guise of a love poem, and then it would never have to see the light of day again.

Words began coming to your head like a floodgate had been thrown wide open, and you began scrawling onto the page. “‘I love you as the plant that never blooms, but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers,’” you quoted thoughtfully as you drafted your own poem. In a way, it felt cathartic—you could get all your feelings out, pass it off as an assignment, and never think about the forbidden fruit again. For all you knew, it was a win-win situation. The pen kept wobbling, ink spilling out haphazardly and skipping, but you relaxed slightly. Maybe this assignment wasn’t too bad, after all.

Head filled to the brim with poetry, you set the pen down and dozed off.

“You’re not coming to the football game?” Lia flashed puppy eyes at you, and you smacked her hand playfully, swiping a french fry from her plate.

“Lia, since when have I ever gone to one?” The two of you had dropped by the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe for a quick pick-me-up during lunch hour, but one smile from the cute waiter—Yang Jeongin, if you remembered his name correctly—had dazzled Lia into ordering an extra burger combo, complete with a plate of fries. “Sports and crowds—not my thing. And I have an English project due the next day.”

She pouted. “Oh, come on! Knowing you, you’ve probably already finished it by now.”

You grinned, thinking back to your love poem and fighting the urge to cringe. You’d read it the morning after, and it had taken every fibre in your being to hold yourself back from ripping it to shreds. Piercing, catlike eyes, you’d written in one line. Silver spectacles. Long fingers on dusty pages. Shuddering, you’d stuffed it into the Neruda book before banishing them both to your locker and going about your day. Love poems are supposed to be cheesy, y/n, suck it up. It’ll only be this one time. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone other than your teacher would ever read it.

When you dropped by the library after school, you spotted Hana’s familiar figure by one of the cubicles. As she tossed her hair over her shoulder with a laugh muted by the plexiglass windows, you saw that she was talking to a grinning Minho.

“Are you sure you’re not coming to the game on Thursday?” Hana was whining as you pushed open the doors to the library. She patted his arms playfully. “You could be on the football team if you wanted to, you know! Why don’t you try?”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not that quick on my feet.”

“Well, tell you what. They’re having a party at Hyunjin’s place right after—his parents are out of town. If you don’t feel like coming to the game, at least join us at the afterparty to loosen up a little—have a little fun.” She blew him a kiss and stood, throwing her purse over her shoulder and spotting you. You instinctively froze, bracing yourself for whatever slew of insults she had for you today, but all Hana did was beam and wave at you.

As she passed you by the door, she threw you a knowing wink. “Have fun on your little study date!”

Her words made your ears grow hot again, but to your surprise, there was no trace of venom in her voice — only a lighthearted teasing, as if she had been your friend all along. Hana really did look sweet when she smiled genuinely, and you could see why she had so many people easily wrapped around her finger. Maybe people do change. Or she’s just in a good mood. Before you could shrug and turn away, you sensed Minho’s presence behind you and yelped.

He held his hands up in mock surrender, and you could swear he was suppressing a laugh. “Here to work on your project again?”

Hana’s strange exchange with you on her way out had left your mind reeling, and you scrambled to form coherent sentences. “No, I, um—I actually finished it last night. I just…” Thought I’d just drop by to say hi. But your pride turned the words to mush before they had even formed, and you ended up trailing off awkwardly.

“Really?” There was a flash of disappointment in his face, then Minho’s gaze landed on the book-borrowing register on the front desk. “Right—your book is due today. Did you want to return it?”

Your eyes widened, silently cursing at your own forgetfulness. “Um—yes,” you lied, pretending to search in your bag before giving an awkward laugh. “Yep. I think it’s in my locker—let me go get it.”

After jogging to the other side of the school, you flung open the bottom locker, making another mental note to replace your missing lock. Still catching your breath, your hand sifted through the notes and textbooks before coming up empty. Where is it? You could swear you remembered putting it there, unless—

Breath catching in your throat, you shut the locker with a mortified bang. The English classroom. You practically sprinted down the hallways, earning another dirty look from the janitor as you raced past. Bang Chan looked up in alarm when you nearly crashed into the English classroom door. The entire room was empty, save for the class president, who looked like he was helping to file the teacher’s papers.

“Where’s the fire?” He asked jokingly as your eyes frantically raked the room.

“Have you—seen a book, by any chance? 100 Love Sonnets. Pablo Neruda.”

Chan frowned. “We shelve all the books after class, and if it’s one we don’t recognize, we keep it until the students come back in the morning.” He shrugged. “I don’t remember seeing anything.”

Your heart sank, and you saw the corners of Chan’s mouth lift bemusedly.

“What’s the hurry, anyway? I thought you hated love po—”

With a groan of frustration, you left the baffled class president staring after you as you turned on your heel and back into the hallway. Your mind was racing, panic making your ears buzz. The love letter’s in there. Where the hell did I put it? You sprinted to the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe next, but only got an apologetic shrug from Jeongin even after you’d scoured every nook and cranny of the diner. The sun was already beginning to set as you trudged, defeated, back to the school. Spotting the library’s dim windows in the distance, you wrestled with your options — if it weren’t for that cursed love letter, you could’ve probably just told Minho you’d misplaced it. But now the book—along with everything you’d never dared to tell anyone, crammed onto a sheet of notebook paper—could be anywhere, and there was no way in hell you were going to stop looking until you found it. Heart heavy with dread, you did a full 180 and began walking home.

It was no use. You’d practically pulled an all-nighter tearing your room apart searching for the book— and then, the better part of the following day running around town. But no matter where you looked—the record shop, Blockbuster’s, or even the laundromat—you came up empty.

It’s like it’s disappeared entirely, you thought as the lunch ladies piled your tray with a few sad-looking burritos. The cafeteria was buzzing with teenagers jittery with caffeine and sugar, and you had to duck as a boy chucked an apple at another across the room. You passed the cheerleaders’ table, trying to avoid eye contact, but their giggly conversation carried over the chaotic commotion.

“Did you see how cute Hyunjin looked today on the field?”

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend? Maybe Hana can talk to him for us—if he doesn’t fall for her first.” The blonde cheerleader that had spoken nudged the older girl insistently.

“Me?” There was a smile in Hana’s voice. You could feel her eyes on you as she mused, “Oh, I don’t know, Hyunjin’s not my type. I much prefer boys with—how should I put it—catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long fingers perfect for turning dusty pages…” She clasped her hands together in mock adoration, and her friends erupted in giggles.

“What the hell was that? Sounds like a cheesy love poem.”

You had frozen stiff as soon as she had uttered the words, stunned eyes finding Hana’s only a couple feet away. She gave you a winning smile—the same one you’d deemed friendly just a couple days ago—and winked.

“Give me my book back.”

You pulled her aside after the last bell had rung, voice shaking. Hana only tilted her head innocently, eyes round as a puppy’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Before you could spit a biting retort back at her, the taller cheerleader tapped her chin thoughtfully with one bejewelled nail. “But I might think harder if...I got a little something in return.”

You grit your teeth. “What do you want?”

“Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party as my date,” Hana beamed, “and tell the office you want to change your locker.”

“You’re crazy,” you blurted, and her face immediately darkened. Dropping her voice, she leaned in closer, until her voice was right beside your ear.

“Oh, I can be even crazier. What would happen if I made copies of this little letter on Monday, hm? Or published it in the school paper for everyone to read? I’m sure Han Jisung would love that—”

Your eyes trailed down to the slip of paper she’d pulled out of her purse, the sight of your own familiar handwriting making panic surge through your veins like ice. Snatching it from her hand, you quickly began tearing it apart before noticing the calm smirk on Hana’s face.

“Photocopy, silly,” she giggled in a sing-song voice as you peered more closely at the shredded pieces, hands shaking. “Oh, all right, don’t cry. If you want the original so badly…” she leaned in again, cruel smile on her lips. “Then you might want to look in the library.”

Eyes widening, you immediately pushed her away and bolted for the stairs. “Don’t forget the deal! Thursday night,” Hana called after you, and you broke into a run.

Most of the classrooms were already empty, their dark windows reflecting your own face back at you as you hurtled past them. Your heart pounded in your chest as the library finally came into view at the end of the hallway, but you nearly came to a screeching halt when you saw that the lights had been turned off. Had Minho gone home early? Chewing your lip anxiously, you peered past the plexiglass. Aisles empty, books all shelved neatly, chairs stacked. The library was quiet as a tomb. Desperately, you tried the knob—and to your surprise, the door creaked open. Maybe he forgot to lock it. You had nothing to lose. Holding your breath, you slipped in.

Even the faint click of the door closing again sounded deafening. You rifled through the front desk first, dropping to a crouch as you inspected the carts and borrowing-bin. To your dismay, they were all empty—they must have all been re-shelved already. Heart sinking, you began tip-toeing through the shelves, fingers trembling as they ran over the laminated Dewey Decimal labels. Please, please, please…

You reached the poetry section at the back of the library, eyes squinting to try and read the spines of the books under shrouds of shadows. Poets— Nash. Naidu. Nemerov…

“Neruda,” you gasped, eyes falling on the book you had practically gone through hell searching for. 100 Love Sonnets. Almost sobbing in sheer relief, you reached out to grab it—just as another hand shot out from beside you. Your yelp of surprise broke the still, dim quiet, and you didn’t have to look up to know who the warm, pale fingers belonged to.

“Care to explain what you’re doing here?”

Spectacles glinting under the twilight, one hand in his pocket, nonchalant as ever, was the boy that had gotten you into this mess. Lee Minho.

As you stared back at him, mouth slightly agape, you felt as though your entire world was balancing precariously over a yawning abyss— as if one wrong move would send everything you’d spent the last two months—no, the last four years—repatching. You swallowed hard. His hand had landed a split-second later than yours, holding both you and the book in place, and you tried to ignore the feeling of his warm fingers on your chilled skin. Forcefully, you yanked the book from the shelves and out of his grasp. “The—book. I-I realised I still needed it for the project. It’s due this Friday, you know.”

He raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. “Today’s only Wednesday. Why not come back tomorrow morning?”

Shit. “I, um, promised Lia I’d go with her to the game tomorrow,” you fibbed, flipping through the book quickly, ready to grab any stray piece of paper that flew out. Nothing. “So I—need to finish the assignment today. Could you renew it for me?” Trying to plaster on an unbothered smile, you flipped through the book again. Still nothing. Had Hana lied to you?

In your peripheral, you saw Minho slowly shift his weight, crossing his arms as he mused, “Well, I’m not too sure about that. We’re getting...careful about letting students borrow books for too long. People tend to leave some...strange things in them.”

Your eyes snapped up, fingers freezing on the fluttering pages. “What—then did you—see anything? S-strange, I mean.”

A flicker of amusement passed through Minho’s eyes, and then it was gone. He cleared his throat, humming thoughtfully. “Why? Do you have something in mind?”

The strange intensity of his gaze seemed to corner you into the shadows, and you swore your heart was pounding so hard it seemed to echo through the room. “Nothing,” you stammered, throwing your hands up in exasperation, “I mean, I just—accidentally left—” Kill me now. You shook your head rapidly. “N-nevermind. I’m heading home.”

“Y/N—”

“Oh, one more thing.” You turned, remembering Hana’s sly words to you back in the stairwell. “You’re invited to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, after the game on Thursday.” Then, hoping you sounded more convincing than you felt, “Hana’s really counting on you to be her date.”

Minho chuckled. “You know I go to parties as often as you do.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice in his words, only that same, airy indifference Minho always carried himself with. “Please? Hana—I mean, it would make her really happy if you went.”

“Would you be happy?”

The strange question caught you off guard, making you look up again. Minho was no longer smiling. His hand was still resting lightly over the missing space the book had left on the shelf, and his expression looked strangely lost under the twilit sky.

“Would it make you happy if I went?” He repeated, and you felt your mouth go dry.

Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, and I won’t publish your little love letter for everyone to see on Monday. You nodded firmly, laughing in an attempt to ease the strange atmosphere that had settled over the two of you once again. “Y-yeah. Ecstatic.”

You turned on your heel, breath leaving your lips in a shaky sigh. If the poem wasn’t in the book, where on earth could it be? Option one: It had fallen out somewhere along the way, and hadn’t fallen into anyone’s hands. The best case scenario. Option two: Hana had been playing with you again, and she had had the original all along. Option three…

“By the way, Hana told me not to give this to you.”

You whirled around in surprise, and your eyes landed on a horribly familiar piece of notebook paper dangling from Minho’s fingers. Option three, damn it all. Mortified, you snatched it from his hand, crumpling it into your fist as he laughed lightly.

“It’s a very good poem.”

“Shut up, Lee Minho,” you wailed, wishing the ground would just swallow you up and bury you six feet under for all of eternity. “It’s a cheesy, cliché wreck.”

He hummed in amusement. “What were you writing about?”

Paralyzed, your eyes flickered towards the window before sputtering, “The—sunset. Figurative approach, you know? Emily Dickinson-inspired—”

“Mm. Then what was that quote about—” He tilted his head in thought, fingers snapping. “Catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long—” He stopped when you plugged your ears instinctively, eyes glowering at him in disbelief. If looks could kill, Minho was sure he’d now have died more times than the characters in a Shakespearean tragedy. “—was that about the sunset, too?”

“Of course,” you snapped, your voice a tad too pitchy for your liking. Damn Lee Minho and his knack for memorizing things. “Haven’t you ever heard of extended metaphors? Rest assured, Lee Minho—I will never, ever, ever—have feelings for you.” You crumpled the sheet of poetry into a ball as you spoke with a note of finality, jamming it into your back pocket for good riddance.

Minho looked unfazed, the light curve of a knowing smile playing on his lips. After a moment, he took a step towards you, making you stumble back in alarm. “‘You can cut all the flowers,” he mused, glancing down at the crumpled love letter, “‘but you cannot stop spring from coming.’”

“Wh-wha—”

“Neruda quote. Tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable, and I’ll stop,” he murmured, eyes growing serious for a moment before his lips twitched with mirth, “but something tells me I deserve to hear more about that sunset from your poem.”

Gulping, you felt hot tears brimming in your eyes, and suddenly wished you were anywhere but here. This confrontation had been your worst nightmare, what you had always wanted to avoid. Your pride’ll be the end of you, y/n, you remembered Lia remarking when you’d sworn up and down that your feelings for Lee Minho were a thing of the past. And it was true—your pride had always gotten the better of you. You were a hypocrite, and a terrible one at that—always telling yourself you had gotten over that stupid, ninth-grade heartbreak, before unravelling into a nervous mess whenever Minho so much as threw a glance at you. And now, you could feel everything you’d feebly repressed for the last four years caving in. Crashing down on you like an avalanche of cheap supermarket chocolates.

“It was about you. You, alright?” You hissed, voice coming out more wounded, rather than venomous like you’d intended. “There. Are you happy now?” You were glad the shadows hid the humiliated tears beginning to roll down your cheeks, and wiped at your eyes furiously. Damn it all. So much for not crying.

“Then why didn’t you—”

“Say anything?” You breathed a short laugh. “Because I didn’t want to see you just throw it out again, okay?”

The silence that met your words was deafening, and when you finally mustered the courage to lift your gaze you saw that Minho’s look of disbelief mirrored your own.

“'Again?'”

Damn Lee Minho and his two-faced ass. Had he already forgotten? “In ninth grade. I left you a—stupid love letter in your locker, with all your other Valentines. Then I s-saw you throwing them all out, behind the school.”

“But I read every name on the cards,” Minho insisted, running a hand through his tousled hair. I left you—a stupid love letter in your locker. Your words sent his head spinning, and he felt his flustered cheeks heat up as he mumbled, “I’ve never—seen yours on any of them.”

Now it was your turn to blink in confusion. Minho’s brow furrowed in vague recollection. “But I did see Hana pulling an envelope out from my locker that day. She said that—she’d heard someone had been sending chain mail on Valentine’s Day, so she was helping the principal clean them up from people’s lockers.”

Hana? Your mind flashed to the missing locks, and the cheerleader that always seemed to be hanging around your locker, and suddenly everything dawned on you. “What did the envelope look like?”

“A corner store card. With—”

“Candy hearts. Right.” You muttered, watching Minho nod slowly. Your anger faltered slightly, feeling a slight shame wash over you, but you weren’t willing to give up just yet. “That still doesn’t explain why you dump out all the gifts you get every year.”

He sighed. “Look. Why would I keep love letters from people I don’t like? That’s just...narcissistic. And I don’t...like chocolate, either,” he added as an afterthought, and you couldn’t help exhaling a short laugh at his ridiculously blunt sentence. Another silence fell between the two of you, the angry tension in the air replaced with an almost childish awkwardness.

“I really did like the poem,” Minho spoke tentatively after what felt like an eternity, and you buried your head in your hands.

“Shut up, Lee Minho, oh my g—”

“And I wouldn’t have thrown it out.” The soft edge to his voice made you stop, peeking out of your fingers to look at him questioningly.

“Why not?” You asked, swallowing hard. “You said keeping letters from someone you don’t like would be narcissistic.”

He was barely a foot away, and the sheer proximity of his face from yours made your stomach flop—with irritation or butterflies, you weren’t sure you wanted to find out. Nonetheless, a tiny voice at the back of your head told you that you were heading towards the latter.

“You know, for someone who reads so many books, you sure are dense,” Minho murmured, shaking his head.

“Wh—”

“I throw out all my Valentines every year because I never see your name on them, alright?” His expression was as careless as ever—that cool, calm facade he wore like a suit of armour—but you didn’t miss the slight tremor in his voice, the flicker of apprehension in his eyes. Lee Minho, you realized with a jolt, was nervous. “I...only ever wanted to receive one from you.”

Your eyes widened, hands lowering from your face in shock. The book tumbled from under your arm to the ground. “But—Hana always told me about how much you hated me.”

“Hmm.” He dropped down to pick it up before fixing his piercing eyes on yours. “Funny. She’s been telling me the same about you. How you’re a two-faced, back-stabbing...such-and-such,” he smiled at the indignant look on your face before his face grew serious. “You’ve always let people walk all over you, and you never retaliate. It’s both admirable and frustrating to watch.”

“I’m not good at confrontation,” you mumbled, still shifting your weight from one leg to the other nervously. “Every time I think I’ve finally got the guts to try and say something back, I...I get all terrified that the words’ll jumble up and I-I’ll start to cry like an idiot again—”

“You’re not an idiot,” he interrupted sternly, “You’re probably more clever—and genuine—than everyone in our grade combined. Your thesis was brilliant.”

You snorted incredulously. “Then why did you keep attacking it every class?”

“It was the only time I could get you to talk to me.”

“Weirdo,” you muttered, but you couldn’t find it in you to make the word sound insulting anymore. Minho chuckled, hand grazing yours as he handed the book back to you. You didn’t move your hand away, and neither did he.

“It is weird. I must be out of my mind. Whenever you look at me, it’s like the whole world stops, and suddenly every cheesy line of poetry I’ve ever read just seems to make sense.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you were more than certain Minho could hear it. The way he was looking at you was nearly overwhelming, stomach fluttering with a feeling so strange and foreign it terrified you. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought that you would be here, in this delicate, unreal moment, and you felt all your insecurities threatening to swallow you up again. Out of everyone in the school, he likes you? A voice snickered at the back of your mind. Don’t kid yourself.

Shrinking away, you mumbled, “Y-you—don’t have to say stuff like that, you know. I mean, i-if you feel bad because of the letter and everything, you don’t have to pretend you lik—”

There was a flash of an exasperated smile on Minho’s lips. Before you could finish, his hand reached to pull your chin towards him again, and suddenly his mouth was pressed flush to yours. You froze, lips parting in surprise, but the kiss was light—barely even a brush of soft skin, and bringing with it the faint scent of vanilla and old books. Minho pulled away almost as quickly as he’d pulled you in, stammering, “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

That seemed to send what was left of your hesitation crumbling into dust. You grabbed the collar of his dress shirt to pull him back in, and the library fell silent again.

Minho kissed the way he talked—soft but firm, and always leaving you struggling to catch your breath. Each touch had the growing intensity of something long overdue, starting out careful—as though you were treading over the newly shattered, four-year-old misunderstandings of one another—before your hands instinctively tangled in his hair and Minho pulled you in impossibly closer. You could feel his heartbeat pressed against yours, the crumpled poem and Neruda’s sonnets long forgotten on the carpeted ground.

The click of the library door opening sent the two of you flying apart, Minho hitting his head on the shelf with a comical thud. The kiss left you dazed and out of breath, and Minho’s face was flushed as both of you whipped around to see a livid Hana at the front of the library. Mouth opening and closing in silent fury, she shot you a death glare before storming out the door, leaving both you and Minho blinking after her.

Several moments passed, the whiplash of the unexpected interruption having sent both of your heads reeling. Then, the two of you broke into stunned laughter, slowly sliding down to the carpet as you doubled over in giggles.

When you finally stopped laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, Minho’s gaze was fixed fondly on your face. You poked his cheek. “You’re blushing, asshole.”

He didn’t respond, eyes falling to your lips again, and you felt your own face flush. “W-what?”

Minho grinned. “And you have drool on your chin again.”

“Hey, Minho! Minho, you won’t believe this!”

That enthusiastic voice belonged to none other than Han Jisung—voice of Levanter High’s morning announcements, and notorious school gossip. He hurtled down the bustling hall towards you and Minho, hunching over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Shit, ‘sung—did you kill somebody?”

The dark-haired boy shook his head rapidly. “Did you see the school newspaper?”

Your mouth went dry, Hana’s lingering threats still ringing clear in your ears. Jisung continued excitedly, “Two people submitted anonymous love poems over the weekend—at the same time! Can you believe it? I’m supposed to cover it on the announcements in a bit!”

Two? You peered at Minho, who hadn’t looked at you, and glimpsed a knowing glint in his eyes. “W-who submitted them?”

“Well, Lee Hana was handing out copies of the first one to everyone first thing this morning. But when I showed her the other one, she refused to tell me who the first belonged to.” He pouted.

Minho looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. “Do you have a copy of the paper, ‘sung?”

The dark-haired boy grinned. “Yeah, ‘course! You guys can have mine. See ya!”

As Jisung disappeared into the crowd of students, you turned back to Minho. He had been in the middle of putting a new lock on your locker, and was now setting the combination on his own. “They’re matching,” he’d pointed out when you’d gone into town together to buy them, and you’d groaned.

“Gro-oss.” The old, PDA-hating you would have probably thrown them away on the spot, but now the sight made you smile like a dork. If you can’t beat em, join ‘em.

You looked down to read the papers Jisung had deposited into your hands. Sure enough, on the left column, you spotted a photocopy of your own love letter. But on the right, there was a completely new one—and you had a sneaking suspicion you knew who the anonymous writer was.

“You know, Minho,” you deadpanned, “I don’t think either of us are cut out to be poets.”

“I stayed up all night writing that love letter, you know!” Minho exclaimed indignantly, and you just shook your head laughing. “But you’re right. I could feel Neruda turning in his grave.”

“You’re going to be the end of me, Lee Minho.”

His face broke into a mischievous grin at that, pinning you playfully to the lockers and stealing another kiss as you yelped in surprise.

“Can it be a happy ending?”

2K notes · View notes

myloversgone · 2 years

Text

Sweet Love - an AU!Dean x Reader fanfiction - Chapter 5

Chapter summary: Dean and Y/N have their first official date. He has some important questions to ask her during dinner.

Chapter warnings: SMUT. Lots and lots of sex. Dirty talk. Cockwarming. A little bit of body insecurity. Language. Fluffy fluffiness all over the place. Dean being hot and sweet AF.

Word count: 8,200~ (I’m really sorry D:)

Pairings: AU!Dean x female!Reader; Dean x Angelica Styne (OFC); Sam x Jess.

Series summary: After twenty years apart, Dean and Y/N meet again. They both have successful careers, but he wishes to change some things in his life.

Series warnings: +18, smut. DO NOT read if you’re underage. Angst; language; cheating; body shaming (be careful if that can be a trigger to you!).

SWEET LOVE MASTERLIST

FULL MASTERLIST

A/N: Okay, first of all, I’m sorry I kept you waiting so long for me to post this! I went through a massive writer’s block where all I did was stare at the computer screen and couldn’t write a damn line. And what I was able to write I hated so freakin’ much. But here it is, finally. As promised, this is basically just smut. Like, lots of sex. 8k words of it (sorry again - it shouldn’t be such a long chapter, but I got carried away). I’m planning on posting one more chapter and then an epilogue and some time stamps for this series. I really hope you enjoy it and please let me know what you think! Thanks again for being so kind <3

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That day, Y/N tried her best to do her job without thinking too much about her date with Dean. She was so anxious, it didn’t even look like they knew each other for so long.

“It’s just that things between us have always been so casual, you know?”, she explained to Donna, when the blonde woman asked why she looked so worried. “We met casually at his home ‘cause I was tutoring Sam, then he casually came here without knowing I owned the bakery, and then he’s been spending the last week casually sleeping in my place”, she sighed deeply, throwing chocolate chips into the cookie dough she was making. “Now he’s officially asked me out on a date and I don’t know how to act”.

“Y/N, I think you’re overreacting. You and Dean have so much chemistry, you look so happy everytime you’re near him. Just relax. It’s gonna be a great night”, Donna assured. “Plus, if you’re wearing that dress you showed me, girl, he’s not gonna resist you”, she blinked, elbowing Y/N lightly on the ribs as she packed the ingredients they used for the recipe.

Y/N chuckled. The outfit was another one of her concerns. She had that beautiful, red dress she bought on a whim a few months ago. Ending just below her knees, the dress had wide straps and a square neckline. And it was tight. Tighter than she was used to, but, when she tried it on, it accentuated her curves in a very flattering way, making her feel powerful and sexy. It was her first choice for her date with Dean, but she was afraid it would be too much, despite Donna’s efforts to assure her it was perfect for the occasion.

Just to be sure, she’d texted Jess, asking for her opinion on the dress too, and the answer was similar to Donna’s.

Wow, Y/N! You’re DEFINITELY wearing that dress! You’re gonna look so hot Dean won’t even know what hit him :)

So, after searching her closet for a plan B and not finding any, she was staring at herself in the mirror of her bedroom, make-up already done, thinking the dress looked really good on her. But what if Dean didn’t like it? Was it too tight? Too revealing?

Y/N had just put on her black stilettos to reassess the outfit when her phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. She stared at the screen, surprised to see it was 6:58 P.M. Where did the time go?

“Hey, De”.

“Hey, sweetheart. I’m at your door”.

“Oh, it’s open, you can come in. I just need to finish doing my hair and we can go”.

“Alright”.

Dean ended the call and opened the door, entering the mostly dark apartment.

“Y/N?”, he called from the living room, eyes searching for her in the dim light.

“I’m in the bedroom”, she yelled. Here goes nothing, she thought nervously.

Still standing in front of her body-length mirror, she held her hair up, trying to figure out what to do with it, when she heard Dean’s footsteps approaching.

“Fuck”, he cursed under his breath when he stopped at the door.

Y/N turned around to watch him, a little worried about his reaction.

“What?”, she asked. “Is this too much?”, she looked down at her own body, hand smoothing invisible wrinkles on the fabric of her dress.

“Fuck, no. No, you look… stunning”, Dean said as he walked to her, eyes wandering up and down her body, appreciating every inch.

“Really?”, Y/N searched his face, watching his dumbfounded expression.

“Look at you, baby. You’re a fucking goddess”, he placed his hands on her hips, pulling her forward and leaning down for a kiss.

When they parted, Y/N was blushing, flattered with his compliment. “I’m glad you liked it. I was worried it was a bit over the top”.

“Trust me, I loved it. You know I think you’re beautiful no matter what you wear, but, damn, sweetheart”. She noticed his eyes traveling from her face down to her cleavage. The dress didn’t show much, but it gave her boobs an enticing shape. “What did I do to deserve you?”, Dean asked before kissing her again, tightening his grip on her hips.

She kissed him back, lips sliding over his, enjoying the softness of his mouth and the delicious scent of his cologne. “I could ask the same about you, handsome. You look very sexy”, she answered, and it was her turn to shamelessly ogle him.

Dean was dressed in a white shirt, a pair of black jeans and a blazer in the same color. He matched the outfit with black lace-up boots. If he’d told her he’d come straight from a fashion magazine, she would’ve believed him.

“Nah, it’s nothing. Just wanted to look good for you, baby”, he dismissed the compliment.

“You always look good, De”, she smiled at him. “Now, help me here so we don’t get late. Should I leave my hair down or tie it up?”, Y/N asked, turning around to look in the mirror and holding her hair up again for him to see which option looked better.

Dean walked to her, placing his hands on her waist and kissing the side of her exposed neck, lips lingering for a moment before he spoke, his hot breath forming goosebumps on her skin. “Even though it’s a shame to hide this beautiful neck, I think you should let your hair loose, sweetheart. I’m happy with whatever you choose, though”.

She closed her eyes, doing her best to control the urge to jump Dean’s bones. She was already so turned on by him, it was incredible what he could do by barely touching her. Gosh, I can only imagine how it’s gonna be when we finally sleep together, she thought. Clearing her throat, she focused on tidying her hair. “‘K, so I’m letting it down”, Y/N said, smiling to Dean’s reflection in the mirror.

—--------------------------------------------------------------

They arrived at the restaurant at 7:15 P.M., right on time for Dean’s reservation. It was a small but fancy place, with plenty of space between the tables to give the customers privacy.

She opted for pasta while Dean ate a steak. The food was delicious, and they were having a great time. Hours seemed to fly when they were together. Everything and everyone around vanished.

For dessert, Y/N ordered a chocolate mousse, while Dean went for crème brûlée.

"Oh, this looks delicious", she commented when the waiter placed the dish in front of her. As soon as they were both served, she delved right in, taking a big spoon of the chocolate-y, soft dessert.

"Is it good?", Dean asked, watching as she tasted it. He loved how much she appreciated food. Because of her work, she knew a lot about it, and could talk about the subject for hours, and she also liked to eat, being almost as crazy for a good slice of pie as he was.

“It's a-mazing! I bet there's nothing in the world more delicious than this", she commented, serving herself another spoon.

"Oh, sweetheart, I bet there is", he provoked, and the lascivious look he gave her was enough of an explanation of what he meant.

She blushed furiously, but recovered in time to shoot back an answer. "I guess you’re gonna have to taste it so you can compare". Y/N was surprised with how easy it was to flirt with Dean. It was a natural thing between them, a game they both enjoyed playing.

He chuckled and sucked his lower lip between his teeth. The number of times he'd imagined how she tasted was probably unhealthy. He just hoped he could experience it soon.

Y/N offered him a spoon full of mousse, extending it in the direction of Dean’s mouth. He made a show of taking it, wrapping those full, pink lips of his around the spoon, making Y/N cross her legs under the table.

“Did you like it?”, she asked, voice raspy with need.

“It’s really good, but I like you better”. Dean leaned forward to place his hand on the side of her neck, pulling her to meet him halfway. He kissed her wantonly, his tongue gently touching her lips to open them so he could taste the dessert in her mouth. Kissing her was like heaven to him. She was soft and sweet, and he could feel her melting in the places her skin was touching his. She fully gave herself to the kiss, and he found it very hot.

After they parted, Dean picked up the conversation.

“So, about the good news I wanna share with you”, he started, holding her hand over the table. “As I told you while we’re headed here, the meeting this morning was great. Last night, Sam and I talked about whether we would accept this guy’s, this businessman’s offer. I mean, we decided how much money it would take for us to sell a share of our company. And, the thing is… he offered double the amount we thought he would, Y/N”, he smiled, showing his perfect white teeth.

“Oh, my God! Dean, that’s great!”, she answered, hand covering her mouth in excitement. “Gosh, that’s amazing news. Oh, babe, I’m so happy for you”, she moved her chair closer so she could be by his side and hug him. “Congratulations, De”.

Dean’s heart was beating fast. He wasn’t used yet to having someone cheering for him, aside from his own family. The true joy in Y/N’s face was just one more reason for him to love her. “Thank you, sweetheart”. He hugged her tightly, reveling in the feel of her curvaceous body against his.

“But there’s more”, he said, his face buried in the junction of her neck and shoulder.

Y/N leaned back to look at him, lifting her brows in both surprise and amusement. “Yeah? Tell me!”, she asked, like a kid about to discover what she was given for Christmas.

“This investor, he wants us to open two new garages, one of them in Chicago. Friggin’ Chicago, Y/N! It’s gonna be the biggest city we're operating in”, Dean explained, green eyes sparkling in the dim lights of the restaurant. “And the best of it all is he accepted our conditions: to keep the name, you know we called it Winchester & Sons ‘cause that’s what dad wanted, and to keep the headquarters here in Lawrence, close to mom, close to you”, he finished, gently caressing her face.

Tears were prickling Y/N’s eyes. She felt happy and emotional about it all: for the boys’ dream coming true, for having Dean with her. For hearing him say he wanted to stay close.

“Oh, Dean”, she had to kiss him again because it was the only thing she could do to express everything she was feeling at the time.

“And one last thing I need to talk to you about”, Dean held Y/N’s hands between his, and straightened his body on the chair, preparing for what he wanted to say.

“Those last few days, I’ve come to realize I don’t wanna wait anymore. Life can be short. I mean, dad died in his fifties! Now I have everything I’ve always wanted: Sam ‘s married, Jess is a great girl; mom ‘s good, healthy and happy; our business is going great, better than we could’ve expected. And I have you, Y/N”.

She held Dean’s intense gaze, waiting to see where he was going. He was shaking a little; she could feel it in his hands. The tears she held before were now on the verge of spilling out.

“So, what I’m trying to say is: let’s put a name to what we have. Will you be my girlfriend?”, he asked, those beautiful green eyes staring into her soul.

Her heart was leaping inside her chest. She couldn’t hold the tears anymore, so she let them run free as she released Dean’s hands to hold his face and kiss him again, putting all of her love into the kiss.

When they parted, he cleaned her tears delicately with his thumb, studying her face. “Is that- is that a yes?”, he asked, nervous.

“Of course! Of course it’s a yes!”, she pecked his lips, practically jumping up and down her chair. He laughed, pulling her for another kiss. He couldn’t have enough of her. He felt like he would never get tired of kissing her.

Looking at Dean’s smiley face, a sudden thought crossed Y/N’s mind.

“But… are you sure, Dean?”, she asked, afraid he was going too fast, feeling like she should clarify things. “I mean, I’m not- I’m not like Angelica, Dean. I’m not… sophisticated. I rarely wear high heels, I’m not slim like her, and you’ll probably find flour on my hair very often. I’m just… simple”. She shrugged.

Dean shook his head and got closer to her. “Y/N/N, you’re perfect. I don’t want you to think you have to change anything about you. I like you exactly for who you are. You’re funny, and friggin’ smart, and you’re kind, cute, and beautiful. Just beautiful, and sexy and God-”

“Ok, ok”, she laughed, her cheeks burning with his compliments. “I got it. Thanks for saying that. It’s just hard for me to believe we’re finally together. Now I can kiss you whenever I want”. And she did just that. Dean placed his hand on the small of her back and pulled her body as close as possible, then proceeded to run his massive palm up and down her back.

She took the opportunity to feel the strong muscles of his arms and shoulders, loving the way they moved under his white shirt. One of her hands went to the nape of his neck, and she ran her nails lightly on the short strands of hair. Dean groaned into her mouth, deepening the kiss and letting his touch descend to her ass, squeezing one buttcheek and making the woman whimper.

“God, Y/N, let’s get outta here”, he asked, breathless, forehead resting against hers.

“Yeah, yeah, people are kinda staring”, she chuckled, noticing a woman at the table right in front of theirs watching them over her glass of wine.

“She’s probably watching you, ‘cause you look hot”, Dean stated, gesturing for the waiter to bring the check.

“Oh, stop. She’s definitely not watching me. She’s more likely watching you”, she smacked his arm lightly.

“You don’t know that. What if she’s into women?”

The opportunity for Y/N to answer back was lost when the waiter came with their check, which Dean insisted on paying to. Y/N let him do it after he agreed to have breakfast at the bakery for free for a whole week - not that she’d charged him before.

When the couple was leaving the restaurant, Dean stole a glance at the woman who was watching them kiss before, and noticed her eyeing Y/N up and down, discreetly turning her head to see his girlfriend leave the place. He chuckled.

“What are you laughing at?”, Y/N asked, holding the hand Dean had around her waist.

“Nothing, sweetheart. I’m just happy”, he answered, kissing her cheek and leading her to the car.

—--------------------------------------------------------

As Dean drove them back to Y/N’s apartment, she couldn’t stop watching him, the way he held the Impala’s wheel with one hand, the other occasionally caressing her thigh as she sat close to him, head leaning against his shoulder.

The Impala is almost a part of Dean, and Y/N is sure nobody should look this good while simply driving a car. And, yet, if anyone has the power to make something as simple as driving look sexy, it’s certainly Dean.

When they arrived at her building, he parked in front of the bakery and she grabbed the keys to the gate that gives access to the apartment on the upper floor. When the lock was finally open, she took Dean’s hand to lead him upstairs. Climbing the steps behind her gave him the opportunity to look at her plump ass. He took a mental note to bite it when he had the chance. He hoped it was on that night.

Dean noticed Y/N’s hands were shaking a little while she was trying to open the apartment’s door, so he leaned forward and placed a kiss on her shoulder, hoping it would send the right message. It’s just me. I’m not going anywhere, you can relax.

He was nervous too, mostly because he felt like he wanted to be with her since forever, and he regretted not having dumped Angelica sooner. He barely believed they were officially dating. So when Y/N took his hand again and pulled him inside, Dean was quick at following her and turning her around to give her another kiss, because he didn’t want to take his hands off of her anytime soon.

She sneaked her hands under his blazer, pushing it down his shoulders, and he pulled his hands off of it to help, lips still glued to hers. Y/N kicked her shoes off and led Dean to her bedroom, but he pressed her between his body and the hallway wall, shoving his hand up her dress and finding her panties. She was already damp, and he was rubbing her center through the cloth when she stopped him, placing her hands on his chest.

“Dean”, she called, breathless, wanting to tell him to keep going, but afraid of regretting it later. “Are you sure about that? There’s no rush. We can wait, things are pretty recent and-”

“Yeah, I’m sure, Y/N”, he interrupted, kissing her briefly. “I don’t wanna wait- I don’t need to wait. My engagement was over ages before you showed up. And you’re not my rebound. I’ve never wanted someone like I want you”.

Dean kissed her neck hungrily, pushing her dress up and placing one thigh between her legs. The coldness of the wall behind Y/N was the only thing keeping her from combusting, or so it seemed, because she felt hot everywhere he touched. She then surrounded his neck with her arms, keeping his face as close to her skin as she could.

“Oh, Dean”, she moaned, and her throat was tight with emotion, both from the expectation and from what he’d just said.

Dean pressed his hard cock against her belly, knowing she could feel it, showing her physical proof of his need for her.

Y/N managed to untangle herself from him and went to her bedroom, watching him over her shoulder to make sure he was right behind her, as if it was necessary.

When he entered the room, she pushed him into the bed, and he sat with his back leaning against the headboard, kicking his boots off. She stayed on the foot of the bed, and Dean watched as she made a show of unzipping her dress, her back turned to him, long hair cascading over her shoulders. His cock twitched in his pants, reacting to her from the moment he saw her in that red dress.

Y/N was all curves, smooth skin and tattoos, the epitome of what he found sexy. He’d fantasized about her many times, but now he knew he’d never done her justice.

She turned around to watch him watching her as she let the dress fall off her body onto her feet, standing in front of him only in her white lacy underwear. The set was comfortable and sexy enough, hiding the important bits, ones she wanted Dean to see only when she was naked.

Dean was practically drooling, clothes disheveled as the result of their make out. He obviously wanted her, but she still felt afraid he could be disappointed when she bared herself completely to him.

As her mind was going fast, a million nervous and excited thoughts running through it while she decided if she should say something, Dean was faster.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N. I don’t- I don’t have the words to say how beautiful you look”, he was still staring, wide-eyed. “I can’t decide if I wanna look at you a little longer or if I wanna finish undressing you as quickly as I can”.

She chuckled, nervously. “T-thanks, but… don’t expect much, Dean. My body is just not- I’m not perfect-", she stumbled on her words, her anxious state making her look for an excuse to underwhelm his expectations.

Getting on his knees and going to the edge of the bed, Dean held her face and kissed her, interrupting her nervous babble. "No, Y/N. You're fucking amazing. You are perfect. Your body drives me crazy, sweetheart. Let me show you how much".

She threw her arms around his neck, fighting the urge to tell Dean she loved him. Every time he said something sweet, she wanted to thank him by saying ‘I love you, De’, but she felt like it was too soon. She didn’t want to scare him away, so she just kissed him and proceeded to unbutton his shirt, letting her hands wander over the smooth skin of his chest and shoulders, feeling his hands on her own body, calloused fingers sending sparkles through her entire being.

Placing his hands behind her knees, Dean pushed her forwards, urging her to straddle him as he sat back on the bed. He stopped her hands that were still working his shirt open, making her lift her head to look at him.

“Can I confess something to you?”, Dean asked, rubbing the back of his neck, a little embarrassed.

“Of course”, Y/N answered, furrowing her brow in curiosity, and leaning down to kiss the strong shoulder she was able to free from the shirt, as a way to encourage him.

Dean placed his mouth really close to her ear and pushed her hair out of the way. “I get off thinking about you”, he whispered, nibbling the soft skin of Y/N’s lobe.

She moaned, feeling her nipples harden not only because of his confession, but also because of the erotic sensation of his hot breath on her skin.

She kissed him fiercely, opening his lips with hers and shoving her tongue inside his mouth, proceeding to grind on his crotch, causing Dean to lift his hips in response.

“That turned you on, huh? Knowing I touch myself imagining it’s your hand around me?”, he teased. “But you know what? You’re way hotter than in my fantasies”.

“Gosh, De, just touch me”, she guided his hand from her waist to her breast, and he squeezed it, enjoying the soft skin, loving how it fitted in his palm, how delicious she looked in the white lace.

Slipping his fingers inside her bra, he twisted one nipple, making Y/N bite her lip to hold back a moan. Dean kissed her chest and then the meaty part of both her tits, nibbling the soft skin, burying his face between her full breasts.

“De, take your shirt off”, she pleaded, finding it unfair how she was the only one practically naked, wanting to see and touch him.

He gladly obeyed, opening the last two buttons and taking the white shirt off, baring his chest to her.

Y/N didn't know what to do first: admire his beautiful body, toned but soft, the skin speckled with freckles she wanted to kiss one by one, or be surprised with the tattoo right above his heart. It was a symbol that reminded her of the sun, with some sort of pentagram drawn inside.

"Wait a minute”, she exclaimed when he was about to undo his belt. “I can't believe you have a tattoo! Why you never told me?”, she questioned, caressing the ink and making Dean shiver with the delicate touch of her fingers.

"Oh, it's a family thing. Sammy and mom have it too, we had it done after dad died. It’s not as cool as yours, so I never really thought about telling you", he explained, shrugging.

“What are you talking about, it’s super cool! And sweet. I want you to tell me the meaning of this symbol”, she kissed his cheek and then his neck, “but I want you to fuck me first”, Y/N whispered in his ear, making Dean growl with need.

“God, woman, are you trying to kill me?”. He deftly undid her bra as her hands flew to his belt, opening it along with his jeans to find him in black boxers.

Y/N pushed him onto the bed and got up to remove his pants and socks, leaving Dean just in his underwear. Her stare was attracted to the impressive bulge he was sporting, the skin tight boxers leaving little to the imagination.

She crawled back to sit on his strong thigh, leaning down to kiss him and grinding herself on him, the hard muscle of his leg giving just the pressure she needed.

“Tell me, Dean”, she started as she worked herself on him, feeling the wetness of her pussy seeping through the fabric of her panties, “did you imagine just my hands on you”, Y/N asked, sliding her hand under the waistband of his boxers and caressing his cock, feeling his velvety hard length warm with her touch, “or my mouth too?”, she leaned down and gave his dick an open mouthed kiss over the piece of clothing, letting him feel her lips, but not giving him what she knew he wanted. Not yet, at least.

“Fuck, Y/N”, he said through his teeth, watching her with darkened eyes.

“What? Tell me if you want my mouth on you”, she stroked him without touching the tip of his cock, teasing until he confessed.

“Y-yeah, just- just do it, baby”.

With his confirmation, Y/N pulled his boxers down, freeing his hard cock of its confines. It was very hard and leaking precum, and her mouth watered with the view.

Leaning down, she kissed his belly button and traced a line down with her lips, kissing his lower belly and then the light patch of hair leading to his erection. She was watching his face the whole time, as he licked and bit his lower lip, holding back the need to be inside of her.

Y/N kept kissing along the length of his cock, until she reached the head. Then she sucked it, making a loud noise and letting an exaggerated moan escape, just to see how Dean would react.

“F-fuuuck”, he cursed between his teeth, head thrown back and eyes closed in pleasure.

Sticking out her tongue, she licked the vein on the side of his cock, trying her best to make up for the fact that she couldn’t swallow all of him. He was beautiful: thick and lengthy, the wide head red and perfect to be sucked. She wondered how much he would stretch her and hoped it would be a lot.

Opening her mouth, she guided him into it, closing her lips around him and swallowing, constricting her throat and cheeks as much as she could, moaning and slurping his precum mixed with her saliva.

“Jesus, fuck, Y/N. You have such a perfect mouth”, Dean praised, voice strangled. He felt like he was in one of his dirty dreams, having that beautiful woman sucking him with her hot mouth, expressive eyes showing him how much she was enjoying it, tits hanging loose and ass up for him to see. His own mind wouldn’t be able to put together such a sinful, sexy picture.

She smiled with his praise, still sucking and licking at his cock, eagerly tasting him, salty and warm.

A particular strong suck made him sit up, lifting her head and releasing him with a loud pop. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she looked at him, self-consciousness taking place once again.

“What’s wrong? Weren’t you enjoying it?”, Y/N asked, but he shook his head and pulled her into a kiss, a deep one, his tongue licking the inside of her mouth, tasting himself on her, lips sucking and then nibbling, making her wetter and needier.

Parting, Dean smiled, pupils blown in arousement. “It was mind blowing. Seriously, babe. This mouth of yours… But I don’t want the party to be over so soon, and you were about to suck me dry”, he explained, and she felt good, bold with his compliment.

“Oh”, she said, “maybe next time you can finish in my mouth?”, the woman asked, looking at him with an innocent face, knowing it would make Dean’s heart rate spike up. He loved hearing her talk dirty.

“Fuck, darling, I’ll do whatever you want next time. Now, let me be inside you”. Holding Y/N by the waist, he maneuvered her under him, hips between her legs, wet, hard cock grinding her pussy over her soaked panties.

“Yes, please”, she pleaded, reaching for the waistband of her underwear, but being stopped by Dean’s massive hand.

“Let me take them off of you”. He hooked his thumbs on the sides of it, slowly pulling the panties down, eyes glued to the patch of curly hair being revealed to him. “Shit, you’re goddamn perfect”, Dean said as he removed the piece of clothing and threw it across the room.

Y/N giggled, not exactly used to a guy complimenting her pussy. Especially not the hottest guy to ever walk the Earth, who happened to be kneeled between her legs, strong, powerful body all naked for her to admire, cock erect and reaching his belly, glistening with her saliva.

“Fuck, Dean, just- just fuck me, c’mon”, she pleaded again, feeling her cunt clench around nothing, ready to be filled by Dean’s impressive length.

Taking hold of his cock, Dean hovered over her and pulled her closer to him by the back of her knees as if she weighed nothing, making her yelp and laugh. “You want me inside your pussy, baby girl? Want me to fuck you until you can’t walk tomorrow?”.

“Yeah, De. Don’t make me ask again”, Y/N whined, truly desperate now, begging for him.

He rubbed her with the head of his cock, gathering her juices and then spreading her lips, hitting her clit and making her moan. He was desperate too, doing his best to not blow his load just by being inside of her, but loving the teasing, loving hearing her beg for him. Deciding to put an end to their misery, he penetrated her, inch by inch, making her feel every vein, until he was halfway in.

She was definitely ready for him. “God, baby, you’re so wet”. It was so arousing to know she was so responsive to his teasing.

He thrusted in and out of her a few times, watching his cock become even wetter with her juices, noticing the goosebumps on her skin.

Y/N never felt so good. As Dean fucked her slowly, stretching her more than any other guy she’d been with, he was also exploring other parts of her body. His perfect mouth was attached to one of her nipples, sucking and licking, while his hands traveled from her hips to her ass, squeezing a buttcheek with every thrust of his cock, and then going back to her belly and waist, gripping her tight, calloused hands making her shiver.

“Dean, baby”, she whimpered when he pulled his cock almost all the way out, “I need you to go deeper”.

“Yeah, baby? You sure? Tell me how deep”, he teased again, feeling her clench around him with his provocation.

“All the way in, De, please”.

“Fuck, Y/N. Can you take me?”

“Yeah, do it. Make it hurt”, she moaned, preparing herself for the feeling.

Dean left just the head inside and then went back in, this time forcing himself to the root, feeling the pressure on the base of his cock increasing.

“I’m not gonna last longer like this, baby”, he told her, voice strained, dick pulsing inside her warmth.

“I- I don’t care. Just keep fucking me until you come”.

And he did, thrusting in and out of her deeply, hitting her cervix and then grinding his hips into her, just to hear her moans and curses getting louder.

After shoving himself inside her a dozen times, Dean started to feel her walls constricting around him even more, signaling she was close.

“You close, right, baby girl? I can feel you squeezing me”, he asked right after releasing her left nipple from his mouth.

“Y- yeah, oh, fffuck!”

“Just come, sweetheart, come around me, c’mon”.

And she did, lifting her hips to meet his, arms around his neck. Dean watched her taking him so eagerly, his glistening cock disappearing inside her beautiful pussy while her breasts moved with every powerful thrust. She was a vision, a sight to behold.

Seeing Y/N giving in to pleasure, combined with the effect her body had over his was enough to make him come right after her, burying himself deep and laying on top of her, holding half of his weight in one arm positioned beside her head.

She watched him coming apart too, blown away by his perfect face, his strong, sturdy body over hers, beads of sweat forming on his temples, muscles strained. She felt good knowing she was giving him as much pleasure as he gave her. Y/N let him empty himself inside her, filling her with his warm, thick seed.

After they were both back from their highs, Dean stayed still on top of her, face buried in the crook of her neck, inhaling her warm, sweet scent.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Dean Winchester. I don’t want you to be too sure of yourself, but that was incredible”, she stated, still a little breathless.

He chuckled, kissing her shoulder and pulling off of her gently. “Right back atcha, babe”, answered Dean, laying on his back and snuggling close to her.

Y/N tilted her head up to give him a deep kiss, once again amazed with the feel of his pillowy lips, his warm tongue licking inside her mouth. He was very good, and she felt sated like never before.

“Gosh, can’t believe I’ve waited 20 years to do this”, Dean wondered, relishing the feeling of Y/N in his arms.

She hummed. “I bet my first time would’ve been so much better if it was with you”. She tightened her grip on his waist.

“Was it bad? Your first time?”, Dean asked.

“It was… meh. It wasn’t awful, but it wasn’t great either”, she shrugged.

“Who was it with?”, Dean questioned, suddenly feeling the irrational need to go back in time and be her first, make it right for her.

“It was with a boyfriend I had in college. It was nice, our relationship, he wasn’t a dick or anything. It ended ‘cause he got a job in another country. Still, I don’t think we would’ve been together much longer if he stayed in France”.

Dean kissed the top of Y/N’s head, inhaling the scent of her hair and intently listening to her story.

“Then there was the guy I was with when I opened the bakery, the one I told you about”, she continued, gently tracing his tattoo with her finger.

Dean cocked an eyebrow. “Wait a minute, you’ve been with just those two guys? Your whole life?”

“Yeah”, she answered, confused by his surprise. “Why is it so surprising?”, Y/N tilted his head up to look at him.

“Sorry, it’s just- you’re… you! I can’t believe you didn’t have a bunch of guys lining up at your door and begging to be with you”.

She smiled and reached for his face, caressing his cheek, pulling him closer so she could kiss him.

Y/N already knew she would probably never get used to kissing Dean. They just had the most amazing sex, during which he kissed her multiple times, used his sinful mouth on her body, and still, when she kissed him again, she felt all tingly and needy.

Parting for breath, she stared at his hooded eyes, full of love and want.

“I just- I never really cared much about dating. It was hard for me to be vulnerable around other people, so I think that’s why I’ve never fallen in love with anyone”, she lowered her head, wondering if Dean would find it weird.

“Hey”. Noticing her reaction, he gently held her chin, making her look at him again. “You know you can be 100% true with me, right? I’ll take care of you, sweetheart, no matter what”. He assured, affectionately.

“I know, De. I know it’s different with you”, she answered, sniffling a little. “Aren’t you gonna tell me your story?”. She was curious to know about Dean’s past relationships. Was Angelica the only serious one?

“About my first time, you mean?”, he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, that too”.

“Oh, it was with a girl from school. We were in the same year. She got out of town after we graduated, so she wasn’t there when you arrived. But it wasn’t serious anyway, we weren’t in love or anything”, he explained, looking pensive, lost in his memories.

“Wasn’t it… meaningful?”.

“Yeah, I mean… It was meaningful ‘cause she was my first. It’s not that I didn’t like her, but she wasn’t my girlfriend. She was willing, I was willing, and it happened. I remember it dearly, but now that I’m older and, hopefully, wiser, I wish it was with someone I really liked”, he finished, looking at her, green eyes staring into Y/N’s soul.

“What about you and…”

“Me and Angelica?”, he asked back, interpreting her hesitation correctly.

“Yeah, if you’re ok talking about it”.

“I am, don’t worry. We… to tell you the truth, I don’t remember the last time we’ve been… intimate. We were always busy or tired or just not in the mood. I guess I didn’t care, to be honest… We slept on the same bed, but that was all”. Dean frowned, and Y/N knew it wasn’t easy for him to realize now how much time he’d wasted in a ruined relationship.

She caressed his chest, open palm running over his pecs and abs. “I’m sorry, De. I wish you didn’t have to go through it all”.

“It’s ok, sweetheart. I can see now I was almost never comfortable around her, you know? I spent my whole time trying to prove I was good enough for her, and I mean her definition of ‘good’. And it wasn’t what I wanted for myself. When I finally stopped trying, after realizing she was never gonna be satisfied, it became clear we never fitted together and it all fell apart”.

"I think love should be sweet, gentle, you know? If it's hard, a struggle for one or both parts, then something is wrong", Dean continued, his hand gently traveling down her back, barely touching it, sending sparkles through her body.

Shivering under his loving touch, Y/N nodded in agreement. “Yeah. It’s what I’ve been looking for, you know? Someone I can be myself with. Then I found you”. She intertwined her fingers with his, bringing their joined hands close to her heart.

Smiling, Dean gently pulled her to him, slotting his leg between hers, and placed the sheet over her rapidly cooling body.

“What time do you have to wake up tomorrow?”, he asked, looking at the watch on her night stand and realizing it was already 2 A.M. “or today, in that case”. They didn’t even notice the passing hours.

“I can wake up whenever I want. I asked Donna to take care of things at the bakery for me”, Y/N snuggled into Dean’s chest, enjoying the warmth of his body.

“Really?”

“Yup. She knows the job. Besides, I’m just upstairs, I told her she can call me if she needs anything”.

“Does that mean I have you all to myself?”, Dean questioned, cupping her breast and massaging it.

“Hmmm, yes, you do”, she hummed, feeling her nipple harden below his heavy hand. “I was hoping we wouldn’t be getting much sleep, so…”. As his palm descended to her belly and lower, she opened her legs to him, anticipating his moves.

He used two thick fingers to part her lips, feeling her warm and slick pussy. “Fuck, Y/N. You’re dripping”.

“It’s your fault”, she moaned, spreading her legs further to give him better access. He found her clit and started touching it as two fingers entered her, knuckle deep. “Oh, God! You- you’ve made me cum so hard. How can I not be wet?”. Y/N asked in a high pitched voice, struggling to speak under Dean’s ministrations.

“Well, if it was that good, then I’m gonna make you cum two more times, at least”, he stated, positioning her under him with his fingers still inside, curling up to hit her sweet spot. “First, it’s gonna be with my fingers…”.

“Fuck, Dean”, Y/N’s eyes were closed, she couldn’t keep them open as she felt another wave of pleasure coming.

“... and then with my tongue”. His torso was between her legs, and he placed his shoulders under her knees and raised his head to watch as she came apart.

“Ohhh my God”, she whimpered, and Dean’s cock hardened with the feel of her clenching around his fingers. He drove his thick digits further inside, hoping it would give her more pleasure.

As if she was reading his thoughts, she bucked her hips from the bed, pushing him deeper as she orgasmed, moaning loud.

When her muscles relaxed and she came down from her high, Dean slowly removed his fingers from her pussy. “Hey, baby girl. Open your eyes”, he asked.

She did, and he licked his fingers thoroughly as she watched him, eyes glued to her face.

“I knew you’d taste good sweetheart, but, damn”, he laid on his belly, face hovering above her cunt. “Now let me lick this pussy clean so I can repay you for earlier”.

Y/N nodded, incapable of forming words, completely turned on - again - by his eagerness to eat her out.

Dean started by kissing her pussy, closing his lips around hers and finished by flattening his tongue and lapping her up. Her eyes rolled to the back of her skull, and when she tried to arch her back from the bed, he placed a strong hand on her lower belly, keeping her from moving.

She had had good sex before, but nothing could compare. The woman couldn’t stop moaning, almost breathless and completely sensitive, feeling like she was in heaven with every suck on her clit, with every thrust of his tongue inside her. Dean’s mouth was made for eating pussy, and she knew she was objectifying him, but at that moment it was all she could think about. He was feasting on her, eating her out like she was the best meal he ever had.

Y/N had lost all the feeling on her legs by the time she was about to fall over the edge. “Dean, I’m gonna- I’m gonna come”.

“Do it, baby, I’ll lick you clean”, he encouraged, voice muffled because he didn’t bother to lift his face from her pussy.

Grinding her soaked cunt on his face, she came, fists grabbing the short strands of Dean’s hair. He licked everything she had to give, tongue drawing delicious patterns on her lips, passing by her clit and making her jump every time he entered her.

“Oh, Dean, fuck, fuck!”, she cried, voice strangled as he kept prolonging her pleasure.

When he removed his face from her, Dean kissed the tops of her thighs, rubbing his stubble there and marking her, sending more sparkles through her body.

Feeling completely spent, Y/N drifted to sleep, while Dean rested his face on her lower stomach, watching her eyes get heavier and her breath more even.

—---------------------------------------------------------

In the early morning

It was around 5 A.M. when Dean woke up feeling the skin of his chest a little cold. It missed Y/N’s warmth. Slowly opening his eyes, he noticed they parted during sleep, and she was laying on her side, her back to him, curled into a ball. Apparently, she was cold too, but didn’t wake up to pull the blanket over the thin sheet covering them.

For a second, he watched the dim light of the sun entering through the cracks of the window and illuminating the curves of her body. Dean sat up to reach for the blanket and saw her face, hair disheveled and mouth slightly open in a relaxed expression. He tried his best to move without disturbing her sleep.

Tucking Y/N in and pulling the blanket over his torso, he laid on his side too, moving closer to her. Stirring in her sleep, she partially turned into her back, throwing an arm over her head. The movement made the blanket slide down her body, exposing her breasts to Dean’s gaze.

“Jesus fucking Christ”, he cursed under his breath. The sight was enough to make his cock twitch. The memories of what they’ve done earlier, the way she reacted to him flooded his mind, and he couldn’t just lay there with her naked form by his side and do nothing about it.

Before covering her with the blanked again, he leaned over her and kissed the valley between her breasts, reveling in the feel of her skin and her scent mixed with his.

She moaned lowly, and Dean noticed her nipples hardening.

Needing to feel her body closer, he gently pulled her to him, throwing a leg over hers, his hard cock touching her lower back. He didn’t know if she did it consciously, but she pressed her ass further into him and made a humming sound.

“Y/N, you awake?”, he questioned with a whisper.

Without opening her eyes, she answered a barely audible “yes”, apparently drifting between sleeping and awake.

“I need to have you again, baby girl”, Dean said in her ear, voice raspy with need.

This time, she turned her head and looked at him, eyes barely open, before speaking. “Then what are you waiting for?”

“Fuck, sweetheart”. Spitting on his hand, he traced her folds with his fingers, finding her swollen pussy and wetting it, before grabbing his cock and rubbing the head, smearing precum to help lubricate her.

Y/N pulled his head over her shoulder, kissing him slowly and sleepy while he entered her, the wide head of his cock stretching her again.

“Jesus, Y/N, you feel so good”. Dean lifted her leg to open her wider, giving him more space to move inside of her. She pushed her butt back, meeting his lazy, slow thrusts.

“No, baby, don’t move. Let me do the work. Let me make love to you”, he asked, once again burying himself deep when she nodded in agreement, letting him move while she felt her pleasure building. She felt the velvety length of his thick cock sliding inside her with no rush, the silence in the bedroom interrupted just by the wet sounds of her sex.

At that pace, he took his time to kiss her neck, back and shoulders, worshiping her body, letting her know how much he wanted her.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Y/N”, Dean stated, as his hands ran down the curves of her waist and hips, feeling her smooth, silky skin under his calloused fingers. “Your body, sweetheart, your face… The way you’re so sensitive to me… Damn, I don’t deserve you”, he guided her face to meet his, giving her a passionate kiss, sucking on her lower lip.

“Oh, Dean”, she whispered, too lost in her pleasure to talk louder, “You do, you do deserve me. I’m yours, baby”.

Dean felt his heart about to burst out of his chest. He was so in love with her, he wanted her so badly that, for a moment, he was afraid his feelings wouldn’t be matched. But hearing her say she was his was enough for him to believe he’d found his match, his partner for life.

“God, princess, can you feel me pulsing inside you? You make me crazy. I need to cum in you again”, he asked, his shaft hitting her sweet spot perfectly at this angle. He kept rubbing her there with the head of his cock, and she was already on the verge of exploding.

“Fuck- do it, Dean”, she said, before moaning loud and clenching hard around him, making him spill his cum once more deep inside her body. She followed right after, seeing white stars under her closed eyelids, whole body convulsing in pure bliss.

They kept their position for a moment or two, and Dean was about to pull out of her body when he noticed she was almost falling asleep again, but she held his arm to stop him from moving.

“Stay inside me, Dean. I like the feeling”, Y/N asked, and if he wasn’t so tired, he would’ve emptied himself again.

With his cock deep inside her warmth, they both fell asleep a few minutes later.

To be continued...

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If you came this far, thank you for sticking up with me! Wanna be tagged on this series or on all of my Dean fics? Or maybe you’re tagged and don’t wanna be anymore? That’s ok! Just let me know either way :)

Sweet Love taglist: @leigh70; @deandreamernp; @deanwanddamons; @nancymcl; @jtink27; @ladysparkles78; @tatted-trina6; @barewithme02; @taetertotsv; @stixnstripesworld; @mimaria420.

All Dean fics taglist: @sexyvixen7; @candy-coated-misery0731; @dean-winchester-lover99; @thoughts-and-funnies; @avanatural; @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior.

#dean x reader #au!dean x reader #dean x female!reader #dean winchester fanfiction #sweet love

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jennana501 · 4 years

Text

A Case for Rexsoka

I’ve been around the block when it comes to ships. I’ve seen people obsess over them, and I too have been driven mad by obsession. I was a hardcore original avatar fan and I was OBSESSED with shipping Toph and Sokka together. Any time they so much as made an interaction I over analyzed it and picked it apart looking for clues that somehow would prove that my hunches were correct. It was because I related with both characters, and I loved their chemistry. I wanted them to have a romantic relationship because it would feel like some sort of personal validation.

I’m an adult now and nothing has changed. But it has been a while since I’ve desperately shipped two characters together that are not obviously romantically involved with one another, or who could be romantic behind the scenes or beyond the story shown.

Until Rex and Ahsoka.

And I’ve seen people be adamantly against it.

“No no no it’s just a brother/sister relationship.”

“No it’s gross she is a child”.

And of course being disagreed with on the internet can drive a person crazy, and instead of individually arguing with dozens of people online, I’m making this post once and for all to explain why I think Rex and Ahsoka have romantic feelings for each other. Especially Rex.

The argument I’ve seen, that their deep passion, commitment, love, admiration, and respect for one another (which are all so obvious you’d have to be...silly to not see it) are felt in a platonic fashion. Which, for the first 6 seasons and 8 episodes, I would totally agree.

But then Ahsoka comes back. And let’s face it. She is a woman. Age wise, she’s around 17, but everything from the maturity of her Lekku (which weirdly don’t get all that longer, especially compared to other Tagrutan women) to her poise and confidence, to her prowess as a warrior, a user of the force, and her ability to command soldiers as well as control her emotions points to her being an adult woman. She’s no Snips anymore; she’s no child. She’s grown up. And how her peers react to her illustrates how they now view her as an adult.

First there is Obi-wan. Obi-wan has always been a mentor to her, a sort of second Master. Obi-wan never hesitated to guide and Ahsoka or offer his council. He is proud of her when she succeeds, and will admonish her when she makes mistakes. When she returns and he sees her as a woman, he changes the way he treats her. He acknowledges her maturity by addressing her as an equal. He doesn’t admonish her. Instead he discusses with her, challenging her ideas and letting her offer an argument for them instead of putting them down and telling her how she should think or act. He also comes to her in his time of need, trusting her to help him with Anakin.

Then there is Anakin. We all know of Anisoka shippers, and they are perfectly able to ship and enjoy said ship, but we can all acknowledge that it is a crack pairing with no basis in the canon. Anakin portrays the perfect kind of brotherly love. He is excited to see Ahsoka, and is stunned by her unexpected reappearance. Things are harder for Anakin because he is used to their fun banter and sibling-like companionship. He’s constantly shut down with her business like manner and he struggles with coming to terms with the fact that she isn’t a little kid sister anymore. She is an adult with a mission and a plan. When he looks at her, he is endearing. He loves her. Admires her. And he can’t wait to pick up where they left off. There’s joy and adoration in his face. He is proud of her and what she has become, but he also feels alienated and even hurt because of how her adulthood has changed their dynamic.

Then there is Rex. When he first sees her, he wants nothing more than to reassure her that she still belongs. The clones had accepted her into their family. As far as they were concerned, she was one of them. When he looks at her for the first time, he’s beaming with the same adoration as he had had for her before, but also with a solemn awe at what she has become and what she has grown into. He welcomes her back into his life without hesitation.

But then there is a moment things shift so drastically that I paused the show and re-watched it half a dozen times. We all know it and love it. This face he gives Ahsoka. The Look.

What we see here is something we have never, EVER seen in Rex for 7 whole seasons. And it is my opinion that this is the first time Rex has been able to feel and express that he is attracted to Ahsoka. In other words, Rex has a sexual awakening.

Up until this point, Rex has been a sexless character. Nothing he does is flirtatious, sexy, or at all suggestive that he has those feelings inside him at all. Every sexual being has a moment where they are first animalistically drawn to another being. Characters who have already had this moment are easy to pick out. Obi wan. Anakin. Ventress. These characters have already experienced their sexual awakening. Ahsoka has too. Lux was her first object of attraction.

But Rex has never had this moment. Until this reaction.

I know some of you might be thinking “but Ahsoka gives a very similar look to Anakin, does that mean she is sexually attracted to HIM?” It’s a very good point. Ahsoka and Anakin share some cheeky playful looks during “Old Friends Not Forgotten”. We see many characters give similar looks to other characters, but does this mean it means the same thing as when Rex does it? The short answer is no.

When animators design a character, they establish the “range of emotion” for that character. You can easily see this when you look back at how many times you see Rex break from his stoic, captain’s face. He rarely laughs, smiles, or emotes in any way. This is why when we see him emote it is exciting to us as an audience. A character like Ahsoka or Anakin commonly show a wide variety of expressions. Ahsoka is much more likely to give a cheeky look than Rex is. So “the look” for Rex, means a lot more when he is doing than it does when another character does it, say Fives or even Obi-Wan.

Which means the writers are trying to tell us something about this moment.

This moment has changed Rex’s and Ahsoka’s relationship.

Now does this mean that they are going to go bang each other immediately? Does this mean the second they are alone after “Victory and Death” they start an intense, sexual relationship? Of course not. That’s not what this ship is about at this time. But the reason many of us ship it is because suddenly they don’t feel like brother and sister anymore. It isn’t entirely platonic. And the show does a good job to further emphasize this as they come closer and closer both emotionally, and physically during the finale.

Blocking is a huge factor in visual storytelling. During the finale, Rex and Ahsoka are blocked in a way that makes them as close as physically possible on the screen. This communicates to the audience that they are closer now than they have ever been. As Jedi and Clone Trooper. As friends, and as companions, their bond forged in the fires of war, struggling to find meaning in life as soldiers.

In contrast, look how Ahsoka and Anakin are blocked in their scenes. There is nearly always a gap between them, illustrating that they are distanced from each other emotionally. Rex is even visually inserted into the gap between them in several instances. Anakin and Ahsoka are growing apart, but she and Rex are growing closer.

We get to experience Rex and Ahsoka engaging in actions and conversations that we had rarely seen before. From casual banter, to moments of intense intimacy, to emotional peaks, Rex and Ahsoka interact more in these four episodes than in the previous six seasons. Part of this is because their maturity gap has closed. Ahsoka is finally Rex’s equal in experience and maturity. It is also in part because it is a unique dynamic. No Obi-wan. No Anakin. Rex and Ahsoka are equal leaders of the 332nd. There’s also the fact that they are put into life threatening situations and have no one else but each other.

But there is that “look” that is given at the beginning of all this that suggests something else, that as their bond undoubtedly becomes strong as beskar, there is an element of it that takes their relationship from the platonic to the romantic.

I feel every detail, moment, and piece of dialogue in the finale tells the story of this bond.

Many instances of their strong emotional bond have been spread throughout the internet, with most ready to acknowledge that they have a connection unlike any other, one that may even be described as a “force” connection. These last four episodes are so exciting because we see two friends reunited, but then we get to watch as their relationship transforms.

Even disregarding their implied attraction to each other physically, they dive into each other and hold on tight. Ahsoka shares deep personal worries with Rex, and Rex and her are shown opening up to each other in ways they have never opened up before.

We were all floored and dumbfounded at scenes such as these that show these characters at their most vulnerable. But they decide to be vulnerable together. Is it because they are all that is left of their 501st family? It part, this is definitely true. But by being this vulnerable they transform their relationship into something very different from what they had before. It will never be the same again, and it will be near impossible to back out of the emotional intimacy that these two have participated in. Once you have formed that kind of an attachment with someone, there is no going back, and as is seen in rebels, these two maintain that strong connection even after years of being apart.

This goes beyond their sexual desires or needs. They’ve forged a bond that cannot be broken. They have shared minds, shared pain and agony that only the other can understand. They’ve been isolated from the world, and all they have left is each other.

And at the end of the series, when we have Rex and Ahsoka broken, their world flip upside down and everything they ever valued or cared about lies in ruins before them, the idea that they still have each other is that beautiful seed of hope Star Wars is so good at preserving. Those of us who believe that their relationship could be romantic want good things for Rex and Ahsoka. We want them to have that love and share it with each other. Maybe only for a few moments, but having known it would be better than both of them living and dying without having that experience.

When we see the two in Rebels, for me it confirms that these two love each other deeply. But their lives can never be lived in a normal fashion. They cannot even be together as partners in life. The Empire has stolen this from them. The tragedy of this ship is that it can never be the way we want it to be. Rex will age and die long before Ahsoka is even halfway through her own life. They cannot live with one another. They cannot wake each morning with each other, at least not at the point we see them in rebels.

But they continue to love each other. Even over distance, even knowing that mortality will claim them with only a fraction of the memories that they deserve with one another.

So please, the next time you see some art or a fic, or a post like this, think of what I had to say. Rexsoka is about two adults, their lives destroyed at the hands of Sidious, but in defiance they still forge a bond that he could never break or take from them. And that to me is beautiful and something to celebrate.

Side note: I spent a ton of time making gifs but they never would work and so I had to use screenshots instead :(

EDIT: At the request of the OG poster of a few gifs, I have replaced them have also made some grammatical changes.

#ahsoka #captain rex #rexsoka #rexsoka week #the clone wars #star wars

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soramei · 3 years

Text

Intentional - Part 5

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Landing your first real job at JYPE was something short of a miracle. You were prepared to face the new struggles of this elusive career whilst moving to a new country, however, nothing could have prepared you for him. Will stolen glances, secret touches, and hushed nights spent in the recording room ever be enough for the both of you?

Genre: idol!bang chan au, forbidden relationship, coworkers to eventual lovers, slow burn

Warnings: cursing, eventual smut

Word Count: 4.0k

Masterlist

A/N: yeah so about that upload... i was really busy this whole week but i hope to start uploading mondays again! thanks for understanding!!

Taglist (reply to be tagged!): @planetdemon @hvunvely @fluffybitch0325 @fashi0nablee @juststop88 @straykisz @theultimaterad @margaritas-en-la-montania @meowtella

There was a pause in the phone call.

You started biting your nails, instantly regretting what you had just done. Basking in your stupidity, you could only wait for his response, for it was too late to retract what you had just said. Your day must have been worse than you thought. It must have been so bad that you had the nerve to ask Bang Chan — an idol, a person with a strict schedule, somebody who you had an argument with — to come over to your pathetic little apartment.

You kept nibbling on your fingers.

“I’ll get my jacket.”

You froze, eyes wide.

“Huh?” You were bewildered. You weren’t even expecting an answer, much less this.

“It’s cold this late at night,” he explained, “I’ll be there soon.”

You didn’t know what to say. You heard rustling on the other side of the call.

“Wait, I’ll tell you my address,” you blurted out.

“You did,” he said.

You frowned, trying to remember if you did or not. That’s right. You blushed at the memory of your first day of work.

“Oh yeah, umm, I’ll hang up now.” You awkwardly said, hanging up before Bang Chan could fit another word in.

You were a statue in your own apartment, clinging on to the last words exchanged on your phone. In actuality, you didn’t know why you asked him to come over. It was just blurted out in the moment. Or maybe it was a result of your extremely frustrating day. Either way, you felt extremely embarrassed that you did so, especially so late at night.

You started boiling some water, still trying to rationalize what you had just done. This was normal for friends, right? Na-eun and Yoojin came over just yesterday and you were friends with both of them. You knew for a fact that you two were friends, but you still couldn’t find an explanation for the strange feeling in your chest whenever you were around him.

Turning your phone on, you checked your face in the selfie camera. It was a miracle that your makeup didn’t smudge off. You thanked your new ‘CLIO’ foundation cushion, it looked like all that time you spent doing your makeup didn’t go to waste. You stared at your reflection for a couple more seconds before turning your phone off. Why did it matter what you looked like anyways? You wiped off any remaining lipstick with the back of your hand.

The kettle started rumbling, letting you know that the water was ready. You took out your mug to prepare some tea. It was a bad idea to have tea this late at night, but there was something about your mother’s tea that could knock a grown man out.

Sipping your tea, you turned on Youtube to an episode of a Korean web-drama that was getting really popular. It was another one with some rich CEO and a clumsy average girl, but you still watched, fully enamoured. On the recommendations list, there was a video with Felix — the other person you saw at the cafeteria on your first day — on the thumbnail. I can never escape from work, you thought to yourself, rolling your eyes.

You clicked on it anyways, just to pass the time. Watching through the video, you were shocked by the production value. Well, that, and Bang Chan. Whether it was hair and makeup or just his acting, he was so different from the person you knew in real life. You were in awe by his natural charisma gleaming at you through the screen as it was a rare quality that few people you knew possessed. Embarrassingly, you found your eyes drawn to only him in every group shot. He looked good in an apron.

You got distracted by more random videos before clicking back on your drama. The next episode was just about to start when the buzzer to your apartment rang.

It was Bang Chan.

Hurriedly, you shuffled towards your door. With your hand on the handle, you took a deep breath before opening the door.

“Hey,” you smiled.

“Hey,” he smiled back. He was leaning over you, his forearm on the doorframe. His coat was bulky, almost engulfing his whole upper body. He was wearing the same beanie you saw on multiple occasions, and in his hand was a white plastic bag.

You stepped aside, silently gesturing for him to come inside. He took your hint and sauntered in the room, head turning left and right to observe his surroundings.

“It’s not much,” you blushed, realizing how small your apartment really was. You could basically see all your belongings from the center of the room.

“No, it’s cute.” Bang Chan looked at you, taking his hat off. His dimple peaked out. “I brought some leftovers from that barbecue place. The kids and I went there after our shoot today.”

So that was what the bag was. With only food on your mind, you rushed to help hang Bang Chan’s coat before setting the table up.

The food was really good. They were leftovers, but it was so good. Stuffing a bite of pork belly in your mouth, you sighed. Where was this food earlier today?

“It’s good, right?” Bang Chan asked whilst chewing on a piece of meat. “I’ll take you next time.”

It was like he read your mind. You nodded eagerly in response, to which Bang Chan replied with a smirk.

“So, uh,” he scratched the back of his neck, “how was your date today?”

You rolled your eyes, not wanting to remember that embarrassment of a night. It was such a pity too, because that man was probably the most gorgeous man you’ve ever witnessed. You swore he had just stepped out of a webtoon when you first met him.

“It was alright,” you shrugged. It was difficult to reflect on the date without putting a damper on your mood, but maybe vocalizing it would have helped ease your discomfort. “He compared me to a model, you know.”

Bang Chan chuckled, making you look up in confusion.

“Was it because you looked exactly like the model?”

“No,” you replied.

His face immediately fell. “You’re kidding, right? Y/n, tell me you don’t believe anything that loser said. He’s got to be something below garbage if he was comparing two women.”

“Thanks, Chan.” You tried to force a grin on your face. “I appreciate it.”

There was a pause.

“I know my opinion means nothing, but Y/n, I think you’re beautiful.”

You stared into Bang Chan’s eyes, frozen like a statue. Your heart was beating so loud that you could hear it more than you could feel it. He stared back at you from across the table; mouth parted, breaths uneven.

You’ve received many compliments before, to which you would always reply with a smile and a quick ‘thank you’. However, it felt as if your brain malfunctioned in this moment and your heart was the only thing keeping you alive. You could still feel your body, but you couldn’t think.

“Thank you, Chan.” You awkwardly coughed, blushing profusely. Immediately focusing your eyes at the table, you couldn’t bear to keep looking at him.

The two of you ate in silence, with only the tapping of chopsticks adding to the ambience of the room. You wanted to make conversation with him, but you did not want to be the first one to break the silence. It frustrated you that you were so shy right now as you’ve never been like this back home.

To heck with it, you thought. There was no need to be shy around him.

“So,” you still couldn’t look him in the face, “any shows you’ve been watching lately?”

Small talk was good. You could do small talk.

“Actually, I’ve been wanting to watch this Transformers movie for quite a while.”

“Transformers?” You’ve never heard of that one. It must’ve been an American movie.

“Seriously?” his eyes widened. “You’ve never seen Transformers before? Oh, we’ve gotta watch it now.”

“You wanna?” you smiled. “I haven’t used my TV since moving in.”

“Mhm, let’s do it.” He stuffed the rest of the leftovers in his mouth before standing up and clearing the table.

You watched him clear the table in a trance. You should have offered to help since it was your own home, but watching the veins on his hands appear and disappear was way more interesting. Watching him, you suddenly remembered the hoodie.

“Oh, that’s right!” You exclaimed, shuffling over to the bag with the hoodie in it. Taking Bang Chan’s black hoodie out, you held it up to him with both hands.

He looked down at you and chuckled.

“Keep it,” he took it from your hands and slipped the hoodie over your head. “At least until you buy a new jacket.”

“I will.” You rolled the sleeves of his hoodie higher to show your hands. You turned the light off, leaving only the floor lamp to illuminate your apartment. Grabbing the remote from your coffee table, you summoned Bang Chan over to the couch.

You turned on the TV, fooling around with the remote control for a few seconds before giving up.

“I give up.” You sighed. Pouting, you handed the remote over to Bang Chan. He took it from you and started reading the buttons.

“Netflix, right?” Bang Chan asked, to which you nodded. “There we go.”

He scrolled through the titles, looking for the coveted movie. Once he found the movie, he quickly selected it and turned the subtitles on. That was nice of him, you thought. Although you also studied english in university, it was nowhere near the level of watching a full english movie.

The title sequence started and you tried to immerse yourself in the movie. You watched in awe, surprised at the fast pace of the action already.

Fully engrossed, you started to sink your back into the couch. Half-way throughout the title scene, you felt Bang Chan stretch his arm behind you to rest on the back pillow. Suddenly, you started feeling too aware of your surroundings. You sat up straighter.

Throughout the whole movie, you caught wafts of Bang Chan’s cologne everytime he moved. He smelled like safety and familiarity.

You turned your head up a little to get a glimpse of his profile, mapping out every edge and curve of his face. The light illuminated the tip of his nose, along with his dewy cheekbones and chin. The plum of his lips were let slightly open, allowing his teeth to peek out slightly. You unconsciously let out a sigh.

“Something wrong?” He turned his body to face you.

You shook your head and focused on the movie.

The rest of the movie was pretty good, although it lost you at parts. You watched the end credits in silence, not knowing what to say.

“So,” Bang Chan cleared his throat beside you, “I should get going now. Since it’s late.”

You turned your head to face him, not realizing how close the two of you had physically gotten throughout the movie. Looking up at him, your face was inches away from his. His face was almost enveloped by the darkness of your apartment. You heard his breathing get heavier.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, “you should.”

He didn’t get up though.

You heard his staggered breath as you kept looking in his eyes. The end credits had long been over by now. Your own breath was just as shaky and you heard your heart beat out of your chest.

He started leaning in. Slowly.

Your eyes widened. You gulped, your nerves snapped you back to reality all of a sudden. Wasn’t he supposed to be your friend? This wasn’t what friends did… Right?

Clearing your throat, you leaned back shyly.

“You should go. I don��t want the others to notice you’re gone.”

Silence.

“Yeah.” Bang Chan’s lips flattened in a line. Without another word, he stood up and walked towards your door.

You followed him in silence, hoping to at least send him off. Wrapping your arms around your torso, you watched as he put his boots on in the dark. He tied his laces, and with a nod, he opened the door and stepped out.

You were left with a sour taste in your mouth and a cloudiness in your head. Still standing in front of your door, you tried to process what had just happened. However, you couldn’t. All you could think about was the soft curls of his hair, the delicate threads of his eyelashes, and his lips. The dusty rose of his lips. The parting of his lips. Inviting you in.

You were frozen, looking at nothing particularly. The only thing on your mind was Bang Chan.

The door opened.

“Hey, sorry, I forgot my jack-”

His sentence never got a chance to complete itself as you rushed to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. As your lips touched his, you felt a fire ignite in you like nothing you’ve felt before. Your fingers clawed at the nape of his neck, wanting more. Wanting to be closer.

Almost immediately, Bang Chan responded. He was taken by shock at first, but his hands didn’t waste any time to grip your waist. You felt the muscles of his shoulders tighten as he pulled you closer.

He moved you back into your apartment by the waist, lips never leaving your own. You blindly shuffled backwards, only focused on trying to get closer to him. If that was even possible.

You ignored the clunking of his boots against your clean floor, allowing him to guide you to the couch. A whimper left his lips as you used your hand to comb through his hair, pulling it. His soft brown curls were silk against your fingertips.

The back of your legs hit the couch and he turned you around so he could sit on the couch. Your lips finally left his. You gasped for air, trying to steady your deep breaths.

Bang Chan’s breathing was synchronized with yours, his equally as unsteady. He reached his hands out again, grabbing your waist and pulling you on top of him. You were a ragdoll, responding to whatever he wanted to do to you.

With each knee on either side of him, you gripped his jaw and kissed him again. The fire inside of you instantly reignited. It was addicting.

The two of you didn’t dare to separate from each other, only parting to gasp for air every now and then. Even in the dark, you could imagine the plum of his lips and the threads of his eyelashes. This drove the fire in you more.

“What if the boys realize you’re gone?” you breathed out the next time you parted from his lips. They were most likely sleeping, but the thought still worried you.

“Fuck them.” Bang Chan exhaled. Grabbing the back of your neck, he reconnected his lips with yours. You gladly complied.

His sloppy kisses slowly moved from your lips to your jaw, then to your neck, eliciting a soft whimper from your throat. This seemed to only edge him on as kept leaving sloppy kisses against your neck, all the while running his hands up and down your waist.

His cologne surrounded you, keeping you safe. Soon later, the adrenaline left the two of you, leaving only the sound of heavy breathing to fill the room. You brushed your thumb under his eye to which he deeply inhaled.

“Chan?” you said. He was leaving kisses all over your collarbone.

“Hmm?” He didn’t seem to pay much mind to what you were saying.

“It’s half past three. I really think you should get going.” You didn’t want him to leave, but you were almost sure he had another packed schedule for tomorrow.

“Mhmm.” Your words went in one ear and out the other as he made his way up your neck again. You couldn’t help but close your eyes and let out a small moan.

“C’mon, get up. How did you even get here, by the way?” It took everything in you to break away from his touch, but you were starting to get sleepy.

“Taxi.” He said, helping you get up from his lap. He stood up after you, brushing his hand against your waist one last time before making his way over to his jacket.

“You’re allowed to ride a taxi?” You tilted your head, sceptical.

He slipped his jacket on.

“No.” He peppered little kisses on your cheeks. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that now.”

You giggled, pushing him by his shoulders out the door. He played along, pretending to stumble with every step he took back.

“Text me when you get home,” you said, repeating what he said to you on your first day of work.

He nodded in response and winked before turning around to head home. As soon as the door shut, you slapped both hands against your face. Your little act of impulse had spun your head in spirals. You didn’t know whether to feel relieved at the fact that Bang Chan reciprocated your impulsive actions, or to worry that you had not only just kissed your coworker — but also a freaking idol. No one — not Manager Chen, your friends, or even anyone in the general public — could know about this. If they did, both your careers would be screwed.

You doted on this thought as you got ready for bed, only the worst possible outcome came to mind. If either your manager or his manager knew about what happened tonight, you could get fired. Or even blacklisted. You sat in bed, nervously biting your nails.

Your phone buzzed.

Bang Chan: Hey, I got home. Nobody’s awake… ^^

Bang Chan: Don’t think too much, alright? It’s late, go to sleep…

You felt relief reading his text. For some reason, he knew you were overthinking your actions. You decided to listen to his words and go to sleep.

The next day, Sunday, was very uneventful compared to the day before. You texted Bang Chan back when you woke up, but because of his busy schedule, he hadn’t had the time to reply yet.

Yoojin called in when you were eating lunch, asking about your date. You told her the truth, explaining how there would definitely not be a second date with that man. She sounded disappointed and vehemently tried to set you up with another man in her pool. You politely declined, thinking about your restless night with Bang Chan.

You finished some work ahead of time to free up the next week. Since you were invited to work with Manager Chen at the content shooting, you assumed that you could lessen your work stress ahead of time.

The shooting days were allocated for Friday and Saturday, with there being an overnight stay at the mountains. Whilst you didn’t know the arrangements for Stray Kids, you were informed that the production crew booked a small lodge for the team. You were excited to not only see a behind the scenes of a real shoot, but to also possibly form a closer relationship with Manager Chen.

You were thankful that you did some work ahead of time as Monday’s workload was so much lighter than usual. People were still coming to you with their ideas for the project, but with your other work done, you had the time to go through everybody’s ideas.

You didn’t hear from Bang Chan the whole day, which was nothing out of the blue. You remembered him showing his schedule to you once. The amount of things he had to do everyday had your eyes bulging out from their sockets. All of a sudden, you were thankful for your nine-to-five job.

The next couple of days ran the same way as your Monday, with you easily breezing through your workload. Since you had more time during your breaks at work, you took to exploring the part of the building that you could. You admired all the art, the trophies, the awards and memorabilia. Of course, you also spent more time with your new friend Na-eun.

On Thursday, the day before the shoot, you were helping the producers by translating some notes for the script. All was going smoothly, when you got a text.

It was from Bang Chan.

You weren’t going to lie; you were curious as to what he sent you. He was basically silent the whole week so far, and if you were being honest, you missed hearing his voice. And seeing his face. And feeling his hands brush against your waist.

Bang Chan: Come to my recording room… I’ve got something to show you.

Your eyes lit up right away, curious as to what he wanted to show you. Quickly checking the time, you decided to take your lunch break then and there. After all, you didn’t have much work left for the day anyways.

Locking up your computer, you zoomed inconspicuously past all the other cubicles and made your way to the elevators. You weaved through the hallways of his floor, praying that your memory didn’t escape you. It seemed like your memory was on your side today as you found yourself in front of a familiar set of doors. You didn’t bother to knock before going in.

Inside was Bang Chan: feet up on the desk, drinking from his iced coffee, concentrating on his producing software. You smiled. He looked so comfortable, even in an ‘office’.

He had his headset in, and didn’t seem to notice that you had entered. You went up behind him and tapped his shoulder. He turned around, and immediately threw his feet off the desk and stood up upon seeing that it was you. You smirked.

“I should really put a ‘please knock’ sign on the door.” He cursed under his breath. He reached behind you to close the door.

You giggled.

“So, what do you have to show me?” you wondered aloud.

“A new song. Since the filming is tomorrow, the producers put me on a time crunch to finish the song by today.”

So that was why he was so busy, you thought. You didn’t realize how the sudden filming would have impacted his schedule for the month. Especially since it would take up two whole days.

He let you sit in his chair, and hovered over you to press play on the song. His chair smelled like his cologne.

As he was playing the song, your eyes drifted up to see his face. The face — even after only four days — you missed. The dark circles under his eyes were prominent. That, along with his disheveled hair, told you that he truly was dedicated to his work. You imagined him sitting where you were, two in the morning, sipping on his iced americano.

“You like it?” His eyes drifted towards you, resembling a puppy bringing a ball back to its owner.

“It’s amazing. I don’t know how you managed this in just a few days,” you said. And you were sincere too. You couldn’t imagine yourself doing any of this.

“Eh, you know, late nights.” he shrugged. “Wanna see another?”

You nodded, and the two of you began listening to another one of his songs. You listened in silent wonderment.

However, the silence didn’t last long as the two of you soon found yourselves on the couch: hands all over each other, lips the same. You were lying underneath him, his arms resting on either side of you to hold his weight up. Your lips never left his as you ran your hands up and down his defined biceps.

The two of you couldn’t stay away from each other. The sound of the songs that he had put on shuffle filled the room, along with a fleeting sigh of moan every now and then. Bang Chan’s hand had started wandering up your blouse when, all of a sudden, the door opened.

“Hey, I have the lyrics h-” He stopped mid-sentence, eyes wide.

Crap.

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fluff #bang chan scenarios #bang chan imagines #stray kids angst #bang chan angst #skz scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids fanfiction #bang chan fanfiction

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the7thcrow · 3 years

Text

indulgence | part one

pairing: felix x (fem) vampire!reader series

summary: an indulgence grows to become dangerous, as the society of hampden college takes note of y/n’s new blood bag.

series masterlist.

word count: 4.9k

genre: forbidden love, angst (sorta), fluff, suggestive.

warnings: blood, suggestive content (kissing and a shirt comes off, nothing too crazy lmao), hook-ups (but nothing is explicitly described), strong language, and vampires ofc.

rating: 16+

a/n: hi everyone! this is my first fic, so i’m sorry if it’s a little messy. this is part one of what will be a series. i’d love to hear some feedback, so don’t be afraid to shoot me an ask or message! i hope you enjoy!

...

You are late. The pattering of rain echos from atop your umbrella, the puddles of pooling water soaking your loafers as you hurry along the busy street. However, you pay no mind as the liquid seeps into your shoes, mud embedding itself along your pant leg. On a normal day, you’d scowl. You’d curse the shitty weather, and grumble as you marched home to change into a dry pair of shoes. Only today is different. Today it doesn’t matter, not when you have far greater troubles warranting your concern.

The Council isn’t pleased. They’d be even more upset, if that were even possible, if you arrived tardy. You can imagine their old, petulant faces, looking down on you with disgust. Perhaps even pity, seeing you as nothing more than a childish young girl, who’d been foolish enough to break her vow. You frown to yourself, that’s all they would ever see you as. It didn’t matter how the years passed by, to them you were, and would always be simply that. A child. Always younger, always naive. Most of all, always beneath them.

The headquarters becomes visible in the distance, clouded in the slight haze of fog. It appears to be like any other building on the Hampden Campus. Old and rustic, elegant in the way it was shaped and carved, a relic of history reflected in a modern day era. Only this building holds a far different tale than those surrounding it.

Far more bloody. Far more gruesome. A home to monsters.

Monsters like yourself.

You knock on the door. Twice, slowly. Then a pause, before three times quickly. A code, letting anyone inside know that you are, in fact, a member of The Society.

The door opens with a creak, a young boy with electric blue hair peeking out through the crack. After recognizing your face, he smiles, ushering you in quickly as the door slams shut behind you.

“Y/N! It’s good to see you. It’s been a while, huh?” The boy says, casually leaning against the door. It has been a while, you never came to this god awful building unless it was absolutely necessary.

“I guess it has been. But it’s nice to see you too, Jeongin,” you speak warmly in return. You’ve known Jeongin for a couple years now, since he first arrived at The Society doorstep. Alone and confused. A freshling, having just been turned. While perhaps not physically, he’s certainly grown since then, in both confidence and courage.

Suddenly, the smile drops from his face, his expression becoming sullen. “I hear you’ve gotten yourself into some trouble,” he states. When you don’t respond, he continues. “It’s not true, is it? I know you wouldn’t-”

“Listen, Jeongin,” you cut him off quickly. You aren’t in the mood to be lectured, especially not by someone whose opinion you actually care about. “I’m already running late. I’ll catch up with you after, okay?”

“Wait, Y/N!” He calls after you, but you’ve already disappeared down the hall, heading towards the council room. You quickly cast a glance at your watch. Shit, five minutes late. They wouldn’t forget that.

With only a quick breath to gather yourself, you burst in through the large wooden doors. The silence in the council room is deafening, as all heads turn to face you. In all your life, you’ve never seen so many dissatisfied faces.

“Ms. L/N,” the head councilman calls. He has an old face, embedded with wrinkles and a scalp of thinning white hair. Unlucky. He could have been beautiful, or at the very least, young. However, he must’ve been turned late. A pity, to stare at such a reflection for eternity.

You stifle a laugh. The frown he always appeared to be wearing probably wasn’t helping.

“Take a seat,” he states, motioning to the chair seated in the center of the room. How dramatic you think, to put you in the middle of so many staring eyes. While the council was only composed of three individuals, the room seems to be full of other lower ranked members of The Society.

As you take your seat, your gaze wanders the room, landing on a familiar head of shaggy brown hair. His eyes bore into your own, his expression serious. Perhaps even angry, the longer he stares at you.

You want to say something. Mostly, to ask him what the fuck he’s doing here. This isn’t any of Chan’s business, yet for whatever reason he has the audacity to stare at you as if it is. As if you will grant him answers. As if he deserves answers.

“Ms. L/N,” the chairman interrupts your thoughts. “Do you know why you’re seated here today?”

Why are you seated here today? Well, that answer is complicated. How could you have possibly gotten yourself into such a mess? How could you have been so foolish? You knew the rules. You knew what was permitted and what was not. Yet, you chose to ignore these conditions.

Why? What could possibly have made you toss everything you’d promised to the side?

Well, that story starts with a head of bright blonde hair, and a set of curious eyes.

~~~~

The library of Hampden College had become something of a second home to you. Late nights spent bent over a book, transcribing various philosophies and literature into latin. Sometimes greek, however you didn’t have quite the same knack for it. That’s where you found yourself tonight, your beaten down copy of The Iliad staring back at you from its place on the table.

Your classics degree was coming along just fine. You didn’t mind the endless books to read and poems to analyze. Nor the papers you often found yourself crafting from this very spot in the corner of the library. It was always quiet, always solitary at this time. Even the night owl students having gathered their books, departing the library for a brief rest before their early classes the following morning.

Tonight however, was different. You heard the door creak open, glancing up as a boy appeared in the doorway. He had long blonde hair, fluffing at the nape of his neck. Sporting a sharp blazer and a pair of oxfords, you couldn’t deny he was well dressed. Perhaps that’s why he grabbed your attention immediately, you were attracted to effort. To someone who was put together, who cared.

The boy took a seat just a few tables away from your own, gently setting his books down and disappearing into the maze of shelves to your left. You attempted to go back to your work, but couldn’t seem to find your focus. Who was this boy? You’d never seen him before in all your time at Hampden. Also, why would he possibly be at the library so late? You recognized the faces of those who while rare, might possibly be here at this time of night. He wasn’t one of them.

You would remember if he was.

You strained your neck trying to find his figure, having lost him almost immediately.

“A fan of Homer?” A voice rang out from beside your ear. You jumped in shock, greeted by a sweet smile and wide eyes. The boy chuckled. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

You smiled sweetly, trying to calm your beating heart. “No worries. And well, you translate the entirety of Book Eight overnight into Greek, and tell me if you could still consider yourself a ‘fan of Homer.’”

The boy laughed before beginning to pull a chair out beside you. “May I?” He asked.

Looking back, you should have said no. You had a lot more work to do, and near no time to do it. Not to mention of course, rejecting him initially could have saved you from this whole mess. Instead you nodded, a grin forming at the corners of your lips as he sat down.

“What’s your name?” He asked. His voice was sweet, sultry. Alarming in just how deep it was, not quite fitting his bright and youthful exterior.

“Y/N, classics department. Yourself?”

“Felix,” he answered. There it was, the first time you heard the name that would cause your undoing. “I’m majoring in history. Listen,” he began, leaning in slightly closer as if he were going to tell you a secret, his voice lowering further. “I must say, I’m in here all the time, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”

You hummed, leaning in closer to him as well. His eyes glinted. “Well that’s simple, I’m assuming you don’t frequent the library at-” you glanced at your watch- “2:32 in the morning.”

Felix’s eyebrows furrowed with something like concern. “You’re here every night at this time? Why?”

“Hey,” you began, not wanting to lose the playful nature to the conversation. You’d heard enough concerned voices to last a lifetime already. “Aren’t you here this late yourself? You’re in no place to judge.”

He laughed, and you knew you could get used to that sound. “Fair enough, I’ll leave it be.”

“Why are you here this late, anyway?” You asked.

“Oh, so you get to know my secrets, but I can’t know yours?”

“Of course.”

He rolled his eyes playfully, resting his head on the desk, cradled by his crossed arms. “If you must know, I couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d read some of your classics, thought they might help me doze off.”

You shoved his arm, to which he feigned a groan of pain, clutching his shoulder. “Excuse you,” you laughed. “I have a lot of Homer to struggle through, and no time for your cheap shots. You can go ahead and leave now.”

You were surprised when he got to his feet, worried for a moment he’d taken you seriously and was actually about to make his exit. Instead, he disappeared into the philosophy section, emerging with a copy of The Odyssey. Felix flopped down back in his chair beside you, extending his feet on top of the table and leaning backwards.

“Well, then I guess I’ll suffer along with you,” he said. Without another word, he flipped towards the first page.

Felix was a good person to study with. Well, technically you weren’t studying with him, but nonetheless it was nice to have him in the room. He didn’t bother you, didn’t speak, just let you do your work. Sometimes you’d look up and meet his gaze, his eyes imploring you. Curious. Mischievous.

Dangerous.

“Alright,” you yawned after an hour or so had passed by, stretching your arms high in the air. “I’m done.”

He smiled, slowly closing his book and setting it down on the table. “Yeah? Finally going to go home and sleep?”

“Sleep? What’s that?” You said, playfully scoffing. “Nah, it’s already past 3:30, it’ll be 4 by the time I get back to my apartment. Not worth it at this point.”

“Hmm,” Felix hummed, a flicker of mischief in his growing smile. “What ever will you do to pass the time?”

“I don’t know,” you returned, excitement building in your chest. “But I suppose I’ll leave you now. You still have about 3 quarters of The Odyssey to get through, and I don’t want to tear you away from-”

You shouldn’t have been surprised when his lips crashed into yours, but you were. You let out a small “mff” against the sudden impact. It took your brain a second to catch up to speed on what was happening. Here you were, with this incredibly beautiful boy of whom you literally just met, kissing in the middle of the library.

Your second thought was about how you’d never done this before. Not kissing someone, hell you’d done a lot more than just that. But never a stranger, and certainly never a human, for that matter. You had to be careful with who you got close to, you never knew who could be dangerous, who could be a hunter. Besides, The Society had rules, and this alone was undoubtedly breaking a few of them.

So what the hell were you doing?

You should stop this, you thought. But the more you settled into a rhythm, the more your worries trailed from your mind. Felix was a good kisser. A really good kisser. His lips were soft, warm, his breath sharp with the taste of mint. When the dork had a chance to pop a tic tac you didn’t know, but it made you smile against him.

You ran your fingers through his hair, leaning into him. He groaned in response, moving his hands down your figure, settling in on your waist. Carefully he began to fiddle with the buttons at the bottom of your blouse, and with that it all suddenly became real.

“We can’t do this,” you breathed, finally breaking away from him.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I went too far, I-” he began to apologize, frantically removing his hands from your body and shifting backwards into his chair.

“No,” you replied, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips at his sweetness. You grabbed the collar of his shirt, gently tugging him closer to you. “We can’t do this here.”

The Society had rules, plenty. Human’s, in any sort of relationship, were out of the question. Public displays of affection with even your own kind, especially of the more vulgar sort, were off limits as well. The idea was to not bring attention to yourselves, to not cause a scene. And if you were going to break one of these rules so terribly, you figured you could at least pay the respect to do so privately.

“Okay,” he mumbled, placing his forehead against your own. “Where should we go?”

“My place? It’s a little far from here, but I don’t have any roommates. So..”

Felix smiled, planting a soft, lingering kiss at the nape of your neck. “Lead the way.”

~~~~

The walk over to your apartment wasn’t awkward per say, it was simply...charged. Felix had his arm looped around your own, making your way silently down the dark, lantern lit path through campus. You could feel your heart beating rapidly in your chest, a desire thrumming down inside you, resurfacing. It had been a long time since you’d last been with someone. That last person being Chan, your ex as of eight months ago.

Things had been good with Chan. Great even, in the beginning at least. He was intense, thoughtful. He loved you deeply. Most of all, Chan understood. Like you, he was a member of The Society. He was under every restriction you were, and felt all the same frustrations.

Of course, not all good things can last. Eventually your relationship began to sour. Your arguments became full on brawls. Your differences and quirks became unbearable. You couldn’t be in the same room without being at one another's throats. You were the one who finally decided to end things.

Chan was the only man you’d ever loved, and since him you’d never entertained the thought of being with another. Until now, that is. You glanced towards Felix, who was staring ahead down the street, his eyes dark. You could feel his own desire radiating off of him, visible in the way he slowly swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing. Besides, Felix could give you something more. Something Chan could never.

No. You stopped yourself. That wouldn’t be happening tonight. It would only make things more complicated, more dangerous. Still, you could feel it deep inside you, pounding for control. That familiar, incessant hunger. The more you tried to ignore it, the more it was there. Becoming stronger as your ears focused in on Felix’s heart beat, the sound of blood pumping through his veins.

You were pulled from your thoughts as the sight of your apartment complex appeared in front of you. Quietly you entered, making your way up the stairs and towards your own door. Releasing your arm from Felix’s, you fumbled for your keys in your purse. Giving him a small smile, you twisted your key in the lock, and allowed him inside.

The moment you closed your apartment door, all bets were off. Felix tossed his books onto your kitchen table, clashing into you with a speed that almost made you lose your own breath. You felt your back press against the wall behind you, Felix’s lips devouring your own. Desperate and wanting.

He quickly revisited the buttons of your blouse, this time starting at the top and beginning to make his way down. All the meanwhile his lips traced your neck, gently brushing against your skin. With every new kiss fueling your own desire, you slowly began to rock your hips into his own. This was escalating. Fast. As he finished with the last button, he allowed your blouse to drop from your shoulders, smiling to himself as he took you in.

“Your turn,” you breathed, tugging at the collar of his shirt as a signal to take it off. He did so, absent-mindedly tossing it aside into your living room. He took your chin in his hand, forcing you to look up at him, staring deeply into your eyes. Then he proceeded to say the very last thing you ever expected him to:

“Look at your eyes… You haven’t fed in weeks, have you?”

You slapped his hand away and shoved him off of you, rushing to the otherside of the room, putting the coffee table between yourselves. “How-How do you?” You stammered, physically unable to form a complete sentence. How could he possibly know what you were? How did he even know you existed?

Felix’s eyes widened, clearly shocked by your reaction. “No, no. Don’t worry!” He said frantically, outstretching his hand to you. “Listen, I’m not going to hurt you or anything. I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry! I’m sorry.”

You stared at him, disbelievingly. “Yeah? And how do I know that?” You let this man into your home, your safe space. How could you have been so stupid?

“Look, I grew up around Vampires okay? My neighbors, back in my childhood home, they were like you. I know the signs. I know how your eyes blow out when you’re hungry, the way they glaze over when you haven’t fed in a while. That’s it. I didn’t even realize until I got a good look at you, back when you were translating. It’s no big deal, really.”

You scoffed. No big deal? Felix didn’t seem to realize just how big of a deal it actually was. Humans weren’t supposed to know what you were, certainly not at Hampden. The Society had made well sure of that. God, if The Council saw you now...

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I should have told you back at the library. I honestly didn’t think it would freak you out this much. That’s on me,” he said, inching slightly closer to you. Despite yourself, you didn’t move away. “I’m serious though, it’s been a while since you last fed. Hasn’t it?”

A while was an understatement. The Society had been going through a shortage of blood bags, after having severed their connections with one of the nearby hospitals. Meaning if you wanted to drink, it would have to be from one of their Certified Donors. Which was another, fancier and far more innocent way of saying prisoners. These were humans who had given their lives to The Society, some willingly and others not so much.

You didn’t like going to their quarters. Located in the basement of the main district, it was always quiet down there. Always solemn. You’d never been to a place lacking so much hope. You’d only gone once, and drinking from that man still haunts you to this day. The way he didn’t move or speak, or even wince when your fangs broke his skin. The way his eyes were hollow and empty. How when you were done he simply laid down in his bed and turned away from you, without another word.

The Certified Donors were what made you begin to hate The Society in the first place. Since then, your resentment only seemed to grow.

You sighed, walking past him and flopping onto your couch. “Yeah, it’s been a while,” you confessed.

Felix carefully approached you. Instead of seating himself next to you, he got down on his knees, resting a hand on your thigh. “It’s okay, you can use me. I don’t mind.”

You were ready to tell him no, the word lingering on the tip of your tongue. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him. Perhaps it was your hunger, the fact that a few more weeks in this drought, you might actually become ill.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that you wanted to disobey the society. That this little act of rebellion, this utterly wrong indulgence, was what made your desire grow unbearable, unchained. You hated The Council, you hated the Certified Donor system, and you hated the way they had such a firm grip and control on your life.

A beautiful boy was seated in front of you, begging you to drink from him. How could you possibly say no? Better yet, why would you say no? To deprive yourself of something so great, for something you despised so deeply seemed ridiculous. That was the moment your judgment lapsed, that you crossed the point of no return. If you drank from Felix, there would be no going back. If the council found out, there would be consequences. Big ones.

But who doesn’t love a little risk?

You sunk down to meet him on the floor, staring at his bare chest. You could hear his heart pumping, its pace quickening the closer you got to him.

“Are you sure about this?” You asked.

“Yes,” he whispered. You shifted your position. Not quite seating yourself in his lap, but hovering above, your knees on either side of him.

“This might hurt a little bit,” you warned. You extended your fangs, approaching his neck, carefully. You didn’t realize until then how nervous you were. It had been a long time since you’d fed from a human. You’d drank from Chan of course, but he was also a vampire, and your blood didn’t have quite the same effect. There was pleasure in it, usually accompanied in moments of ecstasy, but it didn’t replenish you. It didn’t heighten your senses, nor fill you with energy. Most of all, it didn’t satisfy your hunger, your thirst. Not at all.

Felix’s blood would.

You kept this in mind as you finally plunged your fangs into his neck. Felix let out a gasp, tensing beneath you, his hand clutching onto your arm for support. The taste of his blood grazed your tongue, metallic and warm. Delicious.

Fuck, did blood ever taste this good before? You didn’t think so.

The sweet taste consumed you. Intoxicating. Raw. Cascading over your mind in a blanket of pleasure, reveling in the way its effects seeped over your body. You could feel your mind growing sharper, your senses becoming more alert. It was a relief, after weeks of blurry weakness, of being too close to humanity in your thirst. You felt yourself again, the monster you are. The monster you are glad to be.

Here you were powerful. Invincible. And all you wanted was more. More. More.

More of this power, this sensation, this strength. This is what feeding should be. What feeding can give you. Not from a blood bag, nor a helpless prisoner, but from someone you want. Someone you desire. Someone who desires you in return.

It was as you felt Felix’s grip on your arm loosen that you finally broke away, breathing hard as you caught your breath. Felix’s eyes shifted to yours lazily, dazed. Perhaps even delirious. For a moment you feared that you’d taken too much. He blinked slowly, his eyes regaining focus.

Then he smiled. “Shit Y/N…” he began, his voice appearing more of a croak. “That felt really fucking good.”

You grinned, leaning into him and pressing a series of kisses up along his jaw. Felix shivered, allowing his hands to slowly slide up your figure. Wanting.

“Yeah?” You whispered, your lips brushing against his ear. “Then how about we continue where we left off?”

~~~~

The next morning you woke to the sound of your alarm buzzing, sunlight peeking through the opening of your drapes. You heard a low groan next to your ear, quickly becoming aware of the hand wrapped around your waist.

So last night really happened. The reality of your situation dawned on you. You’d both drank from and fucked a human. There was no going back now, you’d completely disobeyed The Society.

Worst of all? You didn’t care. At least, not near as much as you should have.

You shifted to face Felix, seeing his eyes still closed, eyebrows furrowed. “Hey,” you whispered, planting a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. “We have to get up. I have class.”

He groaned again in protest, shaking his head and burying his face into the crook of your neck. Between last night's events and the ringing of your alarm, you both only got about two hours of sleep, and that was being generous. This was no problem for you, as while sleep was a luxury, it was not a necessity. The same didn’t go for Felix.

“Come on,” you laughed, worming out of his grasp. “You’ll be fine, I’ll go make us some coffee.”

You rolled out of bed, throwing on Felix’s discarded shirt and heading towards your kitchen. Flicking on the radio, you felt oddly blissful as you grounded the coffee beans into a filter. It had been a long time since there’d been another person in your apartment. It made the space seem less… haunted. No longer lingering with the essence of Chan’s ghost. It felt fresh. New.

Felix emerged from your bedroom, rubbing his eyes sleepily, sporting only his khaki’s from the past day. His gaze met yours and he smiled. “So, I take it my shirt is yours now?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, leaning forward over your kitchen counter. Felix bent down, causing you to become nose-level with one another. The close proximity made your heart race.

“Mean,” he murmured, leaning forward to kiss you softly. There was no unchained desire, no promise of more. It was simple, warm. A morning of peace after a night of wildness.

You could get used to this, you thought.

The thought sunk in your chest like a stone. This wouldn’t be as simple as you wanted to be, as you needed it to be. There would be sacrifices to make, and cautions you’d have to adhere to. You had to get the truth out in the open. Better to rip the bandaid off now rather than later.

“Felix, you can’t tell anyone about this.” You said. The smile faded from Felix’s face, and for a moment he looked so… hurt. He stepped back.

“About the feeding? Y/N, I wouldn’t tell anyone what you are, don’t worry about-”

“No, not just the feeding. About us. About any of it.”

Felix opened his mouth to say something, but then quickly closed it. His gaze hardened. “Ah. Got it,” he stated sharply, grabbing his blazer and motioning to the door. “I’ll just head out then.”

“Wait, Felix! No, it’s not like that,” you said, rushing around the kitchen island and reaching for his arm. He turned around to face you, his expression wounded. “Listen, I don’t know how it was with your old neighbors, but here at Hampden things are different. There’s certain rules we have to follow, and what you and I did? Well, that broke about a hundred of them.”

Felix was silent for a moment, then sighed. “Okay… But what do you mean rules? Who’s enforcing them? Hampden?”

“No, it’s bigger than that. There’s a group of us here, a society. There are rules we abide by, and they’re meant to keep us safe. Keep us united,” you explained.

“Like a cult?” Felix asked, and you had to refrain from rolling your eyes.

“Well, if that helps you, then whatever. Yeah, sure. A cult.”

“Where do you-”

“I’m sorry,” you cut him off. “But that’s all I can really tell you, at least for now. Honestly, the less you know, the better. Just for safety’s sake.”

“Oh. Alright,” Felix said, his lips pursed. He wasn’t pleased, that much was obvious.

“I know this sucks, I’m sorry. But if we want to keep doing this-”

“Wait,” Felix interrupted, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “You want to keep doing this? I thought you’d get in trouble?”

You smiled, and were pleased to see the corners of his mouth curve up in return. “I’ve already risked getting myself in trouble.” You trailed your finger along the bare of his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin. He was so alive, so real. And it only made you want him more. Perhaps, that’s why he wanted you as well. You were unpredictable, wild. A challenge.

A match made in hell.

“I dug myself a grave, Lix.” You looked up at him, entranced by the curiosity swimming in his eyes. “Might as well lie in it.”

next chapter

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helnjk · 3 years

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Bad Idea - F.W.

Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates 🤍 Wishing everyone a wonderful holiday season & new year 🧚🏼‍♀️

this is the first installment of my showtunes fic list, based on the song bad idea from the musical waitress !

Summary: fred weasley has the ability to get under her skin in a way no one else can. he also sends butterflies straight to her stomach like no one else can.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: enemies to lovers, slight cursing, steamy scenes but no outright smut

song lyrics are bolded & italicized

It’s a bad idea me and you

Y/N rolled her eyes as the Weasley twins made something or other explode at the Gryffindor table at breakfast. The awed cheers and whispers of her schoolmates at the colorful display of miniature fireworks did nothing to sway her opinion on the irritating duo. In fact, it might have even made her dislike for them grow.

It wasn’t as if she had no basis for hating the pair of them. They had been nothing but rude to her since their first year, and she was sure it was mostly due to her adorning the green and silver crest on her school robes. She had been at the receiving end of their nasty pranks more than she liked to admit, and some of them weren’t even a sliver funny.

As if he practiced legilimency, the older twin’s eyes moved from his showy display of spellwork to hers and sent a subtle wink in Y/N’s way.

“Like what you see, Y/L/N?” Fred yelled across the hall, causing the onlookers to turn their heads in her direction.

Angrily, she felt heat flood her cheeks, “Not at all Weasley. Just wondering how many points I could take away from Gryffindor today.”

She heard the members of her table snickering quietly at the sound of points lost for their least favorite house, but she paid them no mind. In all honesty, she knew that no amount of points taken away would sway the Weasley twins from their mischief making.

Later in the day while Y/N made her way from her last class to the library to catch up on some coursework, she heard the familiar snickers of the two boys she wanted to interact with the least.

“Oi! Watch where you’re going!” She yelled, annoyance bubbling in the pit of her stomach as the redheaded menaces rushed past her and nearly knocked her over.

“Going to take some more points from Gryffindor, Y/L/N?” Fred taunted over his shoulder as his brother let out a huff of laughter.

“Well, it’s not like she has any other important things taking up her time, don’t you think Freddie?” George said.

“You are absolutely right, George.” He replied.

“Honestly, don’t you two have anything better to do than get on my nerves all the time?” She gritted out.

The twins slowed their pace and Fred turned around casually to wink at her, “No can do, love.”

“Don’t call me love!”

Their raucous laughter echoed across the hall as she pushed past them in a huff. Stupid redheaded twins. Stupid Fred with his stupid teasing. Stupid George for laughing and egging him on.

Something about the way she determinedly called out over her shoulder made Fred pause.

Her eyes caught the fading light that streamed through the windows of the hallway, and shone brightly. Her skin seemed to glow in the amber light, reflecting the sun as it set in the horizon. The way she moved so confidently as she weaved through the sea of students made heads turn, and Fred was beginning to understand why their gaze gravitated towards her.

He had never noticed how pretty Y/N had gotten over the years. Another pause. Did he find her pretty?

Yeah, pretty annoying. He tried to reason with himself, but still he couldn’t shake this new feeling.

For the rest of the week, Fred had decided that if he couldn’t get her out of his mind, he would simply have to make sure he was on hers as well. Whenever the two of them walked past each other in the halls, he always had some sort of cheeky remark up his sleeve.

Subtly, he would get close enough for their shoulders to brush and would mutter under his breath, just enough for her to hear.

“Looking good today, Y/L/N, such a shame you’re a snake.”

“What’s a lad got to do to take a pretty prefect like you out on a date?”

“Cat’s got your tongue, Y/L/N? I know it’s ‘cause you think I look right fit, you don’t have to say anything.”

The more she ignored his comments, the more it seemed to spur him on. She would catch him sending her flirtatious winks during meals, feel his gaze on hers in their shared classes, or hear him whisper something or other to his twin while he glanced in her direction.

If it wasn’t something he said, he would manage to send practically every kind of prank her way. Tripping jinxes, jelly-legs jinxes, dung bombs in classrooms she was about to enter, puking pastilles or nosebleed nougats slipped into her drinks.

It was getting to a point that Y/N grew frustrated and angry all day. Her friends tended to avoid her when she got this way because she would just repeat the same things over and over again to anyone who would bother to listen.

Fred Weasley was a massive arse. Fred Weasley could jump in the lake and be used as food for the Giant Squid for all she cared. Fred Weasley this and Fred Weasley that.

They had even once asked her why it was specifically him that she complained about and not just the Weasley twins in general.

“Well, both of them do irritate me to no end,” She explained, “But there’s just something about Fred that irks the hell out of me. Merlin, does he know how to push my buttons!”

Y/N didn’t know what it was about Fred that got her going. It might have been because he was the instigator of most of the twins’ pranks, that he acted first and thought of the consequences later. It might have been that he would purposely send bludgers her way whenever Slytherin played Gryffindor and the many bruises that came from it.

It might have been the little flutters she would get whenever he whispered something cheeky into her ear. But that last one she had a hard time admitting to even herself.

By the end of the week, Y/N was at her wits end. Every time the bell rang and she gathered up her things, her hand would clutch her wand, ready to put up a small shield charm or send a hex in the direction of a certain redhead.

It being the weekend, many of her fellow classmates rushed out the door the moment they were dismissed from class. Y/N took her time packing her things back up, as her only plans for the night were to catch up on one of the novels she had had no time to read recently. As she exited the classroom, her eyes scanned the bare hallway for any sign of Fred. Her suspicions rose when she began her walk back to her common room and nothing out of the ordinary happened.

She soon stood corrected as a flash of red hair danced in her vision and she was suddenly pressed up against a wall.

With a gasp she said, “Weasley? What in Merlin’s name are you–”

“Can’t be quiet for a second, can you, Y/N?” Fred teased, his lips skimming the shell of her ear and sending shivers down her spine.

She gulped at the proximity of their bodies, her eyes darting around the empty hallway for any onlookers.

“Get on with whatever this is then,” She breathed, trying to keep her nonchalant act up, “I have other plans for tonight that I’d rather be doing.”

A slow chuckle escaped Fred’s lips, causing her heart to beat even more erratically than she thought possible, “So impatient love.”

“And I told you not to call me ‘love’.”

His eyes darted quickly to her lips and she could only hope that he couldn’t feel just how fast her heart was beating, “I’m going to kiss you now.”

He waited for her to give him any sign of discomfort or to say no, but she merely glanced at his lips and back up at his warm brown eyes. Then, as quickly as he had appeared in front of her, his head dipped and he captured her lips in his.

Y/N felt all the breath in her body leave as Fred pressed the searing kiss on her lips. He was intoxicating, his smell, the feel of his skin as she gripped onto his strong biceps, the way his breath mingled with hers.

When they broke apart, his eyes trailed the length of her body in a way that made goosebumps rise from her flesh. Y/N thought she must have looked like a fish out of water, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide.

“Just a taste of what could be.” He winked at her and then turned on his heel, “Think about it, Y/L/N.”

Far longer than she would like to admit, Y/N stayed rooted on the spot, staring in the direction that Fred Weasley had disappeared in and fingers running along the lips that he had claimed.

Heart keep racing Let’s make mistakes

The adrenaline pumping through Y/N’s veins gave her a feeling of weightlessness and grounding at the same time. Being Slytherin’s best beater came with the responsibility of carrying most of the game and she played her role well. Still, she always made it a point to play fair and to compensate for the shitty sportsmanship the rest of her team subscribed to.

When she had spotted a bludger to her right, making its way to where Malfoy was slowly circling, she set off. With a strong swing of her bat, she had it hurtling in the direction of one of the Gryffindor chasers. Neither of the Weasley twins was able to make it in time and the ball scraped the unassuming chaser’s shoulder.

With the boost of confidence this gave her, she proceeded to play one of the best matches of the season. A triumphant grin etched its way onto her face at the frustration leaking from the Weasley twins, who were trying to keep up with her and her co-beater’s synchronization.

Though, she had to admit that the way Fred’s arms flexed and his grunts of exertion every time he did manage to hit the bludger were a tad bit distracting too. The cheeky winks he sent her way weren’t helping either.

“Feeling a bit tired, Weasley?” She teased when he began to hover close to her, “Can’t keep up?”

“In your dreams, Y/L/N!” He all but growled and the fire in his eyes made her heart stutter for just a second before she set off in pursuit of another bludger.

The game had ended when Malfoy caught the snitch, a feat especially when Gryffindor had Potter, and Slytherin had won.

She couldn’t help but feel a smug sense of pride as she and the rest of the team walked out of the pitch, hearing the cheers of her house at the stands. She took her time in the changing rooms, trying to still her erratically beating heart. Her teammates slowly trickled out, reminding her of the celebrations that were definitely going to happen in the common room.

When she heard footsteps approaching the tent just as she had finished stuffing everything in her bag, she had just assumed that one of her teammates had forgotten something. She stood corrected.

“Quite a game today, wouldn’t you say?”

The familiar baritone voice made Y/N pause. Without turning to face him, she said in reply, “Definitely, Weasley. It’s always nice to kick your sorry arse out on the pitch.”

“Now, now Y/N,” He drawled, his voice inching closer to where she stood rooted on the spot. Her hand gripped at the strap of her bag as she tried to think of an escape route, “That’s definitely not the context I imagined you’d be talking about when you first mentioned my arse.”

She let out a scoff at his insinuation, but couldn’t shake the feeling that he could see right through her bluff. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest as she realized that she was trapped in the quidditch changing rooms with the person who had been plaguing her thoughts.

The air surrounding the pair was thick with tension and charged with electricity. Countless days of teasing and rivalry, all the discreet glances and brushes of shoulders against each other, bottled up into a single moment, this moment. By the time Y/N had turned to face the cause of the palpitations in her chest, he was mere inches away.

His hot breath fanned her face and his deep brown eyes scanned over her. She could practically feel the heat of his body against hers, white hot and tempting. He knew exactly what he was doing to her.

“What do you want, Weasley?” She breathed, finally managing the courage to meet his eyes.

“You.” He said simply, tongue darting out to dampen his lips.

For a moment, it was as if they had both stopped breathing. Neither of them said a word or moved an inch, anticipating the other’s next move.

“Fuck it.”

Before Y/N could let out a word, his lips were on hers and his arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

All of the frustration and built up resentment between the pair of them came to play in the harshness of his kiss. It was not sweet nor soft, not what one would imagine a kiss between a prince and a princess to be. Rather, it was passionate, playful, and powerful. Two opposing forces clashing against each other, their convergence causing an eruption of flames.

Fred was not a shy person, and it was evident in the way he kissed her.

If she was the least bit surprised, he couldn’t tell, because as soon as his arms rested on the small of her back, she pressed her palms against his chest and leaned into him. For once, she let him take the lead and their mouths molded together in a passionate dance.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” She gasped as they broke apart for air, chests rising and falling rapidly.

“You think too much.” He responded, leaning down to capture her lips in his once more.

The way his lips deftly glazed over her neck and attached themselves to the point right below her ear made small sounds of pleasure escape her lips and her hips rutted against his.

These sounds only spurred him further as his arms slid down from her waist to the backs of her thighs, urging her to wrap them around him. She complied, and soon her back was against the wall as he continued the assault on her neck.

When the pair finally broke away, they took a moment to breathe, panting heavily. Y/N was the first to break the silence, laughing slightly at the compromising position they were in, and how they had just spent the last several minutes taking their frustrations out on each other.

“What’s so funny then,” Fred smiled as he slowly eased his grip on her thighs, lowering her back to the floor.

“Nothing,” She shook her head, surprised at how casual they treated the situation, “Just not what I’d expected to happen when Slytherin won today.”

“And what did you expect?” He quirked an eyebrow, “Especially when you were out there playing so well and looking that good.”

Y/N had to bite her lip to keep herself from grinning like an idiot, “Definitely not snogging you in the changing rooms, that’s for sure.”

“I know for a fact that you quite enjoyed what we did,” He whispered, pulling her close to him once more and closing the gap between them.

“In your dreams, Weasley.” She breathed.

And then his lips were on hers again. And again and again and again.

Over the course of the next few weeks, many noticed how the dynamics between the two shifted ever so slightly. There were still jeers and taunts in the halls, teasing comments made in classes or during meals, but there were also fewer eye rolls and less malice behind their words. It was almost as if they had an unspoken agreement.

The only one who had really caught on to what was really happening between the two of them was George, and it was only because he walked in on them on Fred’s bed in the dorms.

Y/N had been on top of Fred, straddling his midsection and pressing soft kisses all along his face and jaw, while he had his arms wrapped around her waist and held her tightly. Chest to chest, a soft hum verbrated from him as she continued her ministrations.

There wasn’t any sort of sexual tension at that moment, in fact, there hadn’t been an ounce of it the whole day. Laying like this with Fred made Y/N all sorts of confused, but she still enjoyed whatever the hell was happening between them.

It was cut short, though, as George had walked through the threshold of the dorm and saw their slightly compromised position.

“Bloody hell!” He exclaimed, and Y/N sprung up immediately, his twin’s arms falling limply at his sides at her sudden movement.

“Erm-” She mumbled, trying to move away, but Fred had none of it. If at all, his grip on her thighs tightened.

She could feel his body shaking from the laugh he was trying to hold in, and smacked him on the chest, “Fred! Stop that!”

“What?” He laughed, “It’s not like he saw anything, did you, Georgie?”

George, who was still trying to process what he had just witnessed, blinked a couple of times before shaking his head in disbelief, “Good Godric, so this is why you two have been acting so odd lately?”

“Well, it’s not as if we’re bloody dating,” Fred rolled his eyes, but Y/N felt her heart skip a beat, “We’re just having some fun s’all.”

She swallowed the lump that was suddenly in her throat and gave a feeble nod, “Yep. Just some fun.”

It was a pretty good bad idea Wasn’t it though?

Y/N didn’t know why she began avoiding Fred.

To everyone else in the school, all was well. The teasing between them hadn’t stopped. The little jabs at meals, in classes, or out in the hallways still happened. She was still a prefect and took points from Gryffindor whenever she caught the twins outside of curfew or running from Filch. They were both still beaters who played for their respective teams and shot remarks mockingly at one another out on the pitch.

Outside of those moments, though, Y/N made it a point to walk the other direction when she saw him walking her way, with or without his twin. She would slip out of shared classes as soon as the bell rang and their professor dismissed them. She even went as far as hiding in a spare broom closet once, when she was doing her prefect rounds and heard his telltale laughter just around the corner.

They hadn’t shared a moment alone in a few weeks and Fred had wracked his brain trying to figure out what he did wrong. Their set-up had been practically perfect before she started avoiding him. Stolen kisses and the excitement of sneaking around with her were some of the best times of his life there in Hogwarts. He hadn’t had the Gryffindor courage to tell her how he really felt, but at least they shared intimate moments alone, away from prying eyes and judgemental stares.

Instead, now he had taken to staring at her whenever he could, replaying all of their previous interactions to find out what went wrong between them.

“Oi, quit staring at Y/N before McGonagall takes points from us for not paying attention to her,” George hastily whispered one day.

“I’m not doing anything wrong,” Fred defended, his eyes still locked on Y/N. She paid him no mind, unconsciously twirling the quill in her hands and chewing on her bottom lip.

He thought she looked stunning.

“I never thought I would say this,” George groaned softly, “But you’ve gotta listen in class right now or else we’ll lose even more points and everyone’ll be right chuffed. We can figure out your dumb bird problems after.”

With a roll of his eyes, Fred finally brought his attention back to what their professor was going on about. He’d worry about whatever was going on with Y/N later.

“I think it’s simple, really,” George shrugged, later on in the day when it was just the two of them in their dorm. He leant back against the headboard of his four-poster, an image of calm and nonchalance.

“On with it then!” Fred exclaimed, the exact opposite of his twin at the moment. He fidgeted from his position on his own bed, his foot tapped anxiously on the hardwood floor and his hand kept running through his already disheveled hair.

George couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His own twin, all out of balance because of some bird.

But it wasn’t just any bird, he knew, it was Y/N. And if it had to be any bird in the whole school for Fred to become this mess of feelings and uncertainty, at least it was because of her. George always knew that their rivalry would either end in them realizing their feelings for each other or them hexing each other to death.

“Grow some balls and just tell her how you feel, you daft git!” He exclaimed, humor sparkled in his eyes.

“Be serious here, George,” Fred groaned and pushed his face against one of his pillows.

His twin rolled his eyes, “I am being serious! It’s obvious she fancies the balls off of you, so just ask her out on a date or something and save us all from this awkward dance the lot of you have been doing for the past few weeks.”

George’s words rang in Fred’s mind for longer than he liked to admit.

One night, as dinner was coming to a close, he’d had enough. He spotted Y/N getting up from her seat at the Slytherin table and stood abruptly from his half finished meal. As she exited the Great Hall, he followed her out and into the drafty corridor.

“Y/N!” He yelled before he could stop himself.

She paused briefly, shoulders tensing at his call to her. Instead of turning around though, she picked up her pace.

Fred cursed softly, “Y/N, I know you can hear me!”

As his legs were much longer than hers, he caught up to her quickly. Still, she paid him no mind and continued her on her way, “What’s got your wand all in a knot, Y/L/N?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Weasley.” Came her reply.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Y/L/N,” He rolled his eyes, “You’ve been ignoring me recently and I can’t think of anything that I’ve done wrong.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’ve been actually paying attention to my classes and doing all of my coursework, that takes up most of my time these days.” She shrugged, turning a corner and continuing her fast pace, “And I’m not at your beck and call, Weasley. I’m not yours.”

“You could be.”

Y/N’s resolve seemed to be taken away with the tide as he muttered those words aloud. In fact, she was so shocked at what he said that she quite literally had to stop walking and merely stared at the redheaded boy.

“Don’t be daft, Weasley.” She managed to choke out after a few beats.

He turned to face her and Y/N had never seen him look so serious before. Fred was usually the louder twin, the more explosive one, the one who acted first and thought of the consequences later. But now, now she could see that he had nothing but genuine intentions as his eyes scanned her and gauged her reaction.

She huffed, unwilling to let her walls down for even a second. It was too frightening, telling the person she had spent much of her formative years rivalling with how she truly felt about them. In fact, despite her act, she couldn’t get it in her to look him in the eyes.

“This, whatever this is, you know that it isn’t a good idea.” She tried to argue, but as the words left her lips they seemed to carry no weight in them.

“It’s a pretty good bad idea if you ask me.” He said with as much conviction as possible, “C’mon, Y/L/N, you gonna back down from a challenge?”

That sparked a fire in her eyes that he had missed seeing, one that said she meant business, “I’ll say yes to you on one condition,” She said.

“Anything.”

“Take me out on a date first.”

#weasleyclaw showtunes fics #fred weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred wealsey fic #fred weasley fics #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #tw swearing #tw kissing

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bonny-kookoo · 4 years

Text

Good Girl [J.JK x Reader]🔞🌼

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, a lil angst

Warnings: dom/sub dynamics, dom!jungkook, sub!Reader, size kink, oral (f & m rec.), mild dd/lg themes, praise kink, cumplay, reader is a virgin, jungkook is lowkey a hoe, a lil heartbreak, Taehyung makes an appearance, long haired jungkook, mentions of harrassment, jungkook punches a guy, strength kink

Jeon Jungkook was known to have a specific type when it came to his partners; tall, gorgeous, dominant and older. It's not like he's a true blood baby boy; he's just too lazy to put any effort into his flings. When a new girl answers to his ad online searching for a roommate for his apartment to share rent and space however, he didn't quite expect such an innocent being to turn up at his doorstep with a box full of pastel colored belongings, ready to move in. And what he definitely didn't expect was his growing interest in her and the feeling of having her under him, all submissive and ready to be ruined.

Good Girl || Sweet Girl || Smart Girl || Brave Girl || Pretty Girl || Charming Girl || Enticing Girl || Bad Girl || ???

A wink was all he got from the woman who'd occupied his bed together with him last night as she walked out his bedroom door, seemingly knowing how to get out of his apartment. Jungkook ran his hand through his still sweaty hair, groaning after stretching his arms above his head, his mood seemingly sunkissed. He just finished an almost three hour sex-session after all; all without him providing any actual effort. His dick had seemed to be enough for her anyways, her face when she rode him happy, although he could really care less.

Reaching for his laptop near his bed, he didn't bother to put on any clothes for now, just wanting to check if he'd gotten any new E-Mails or messages, clicking through the casual nudes that constantly seemed to slip into his postbox. He cocked his head to the side however when he noticed that a website has notified him of an answer to his ad online; he'd put it up some time ago now after Taehyung, his former roommate, had to move out simply because Jungkook himself couldn't survive the older one's sleep shedule. Tae seemed to never sleep, waking the younger one up on a daily (and nightly) basis. He really tried to get along with him, both of them sharing a deep friendship, but god no, as a roommate he couldn't stand that guy. His rent however was something he struggled as well, so as much as he really wanted to live alone, he couldn't. He clicked the message on the website, his interest peaked.

"Hello. Is this AD still up to date? My name is Y/N, and I'm searching for a place because I'm starting to work close by soon, and its too expensive to take the bus for hours on end every day.. so uh, I don't know? I'm really good at cooking, and I promise I'll be so quiet and organized you won't even notice I'm there! I work at a restaurant nearby as a waitress- I mean, I'm going to, haha. Ugh, I hope you're okay sharing your apartment with a girl as well, I for my part don't have a problem with that! So, I guess, I'll wait for your reply?

Have a nice day!"

He scoffed a little, hovering over the delete button, but instead, he clicked her profile icon, opening the details. Her profile picture showed a white big dog, being hugged by what he assumed was her. He couldn't see her face however, half of her face above her nose cropped out to fit the entire dog instead. He could spot her clothes however; a top and skirt, flat shoes and sheer tights with white spots on them. His brows furrowed, how old was she? Her profile said she was about a year younger than him, every post she'd made up to this date about pet stuff, clothes who all seemed to follow a pastel-color scheme, and artwork you seemed to be selling. You were basically the definition of cute.

Fan-fucking-tastic. Hopefully you wouldn't be too upset when he denied your request, but somehow he thought it over. You said you could cook and you did seem like an organized person. Knowing what kind of effect he could have on people, he could probably scare the shit out of you and keep you around without really having to interact much; and rent was also due this month, so the sooner he found a roommate the better. "Fuck it." He said, and began to type his reply.

When his doorbell rang, he almost burned his hand with the hot water he currently used to make himself a cup of ramen, cursing loudly. Who the fuck wasn't home again so he had to take their package in? One day the old lady across the hall would find a dead rat or something in front of her door, he swore to himself. Ripping the door open with so much force he could feel a bit of wind gushing by, his eyes widened when he saw a similar face in front of him- well, a little below actually. He remembered your lips instantly for some awkward reason, having tried to maybe paint a picture of what you looked like entirely over the last few days. He would've never expected something like this however- you looked like a literal doll in his opinion, your eyes wide open and mouth a little parted, shiny lipgloss making him swallow. Wait, did he really forget that you said you wanted to move in today?!

"I uh.. I'm- I'm Y/N, we- I- the ad..?" You said, your voice sounding nothing like the woman he usually was around. He smirked a little, moving so you could step inside, food now definitely forgotten on the kitchen counter. He really should've at least cleaned up a little he thought. Whatever.

"Yeah, figured. There you go, thats your room. The keys and shit are on the matress, make sure you don't loose 'em." He simply said, before leaving you alone in your new home to settle down.

"What I'm trying to say is, Y/N, you and I, this could really be something!" Taehyung slurred into your ear, loud enough for Jungkook to hear. For some reason it pissed him off to no ends how close the older one seemed to be, constantly hitting on you like he was a starving man, even know half of town knew very well that he wasn't. He could see why; you were innocent, and Tae known to fool around a lot. You were a challenge, something new for him, and he would lie if he said that he wasn't interested as well. Oh he was; but he also had at least some manners left inside of him, contrary to popular belief not only thinking with his dick. Taehyung however was only out for fun, making Jungkook question if he should really let this continue.

He decided no.

"Alright you fucking whore, it's bedtime isn't it? I'll call you a cab." Taehyung groaned at the younger one's words, nodded his head however before looking at you with a smirk.

"Ah, what a shame. But if you wanna have some fun you know my number!" He said, as if he didn't just offer you sex. You blushed at this, not answering, making Jungkook watch you a bit. You really were something else. "Jungkookie, you're so nicee... If I was gay I would definitely suck your dick-" The younger in question made a disgusted yet amused face, putting a hand over the blue haired one's mouth.

"Yeah yeah, you pay me back though you fucker." He said, before going into the kitchen to make the call. Taehyung, being left alone with you again started with his questioning, as he had done the entire night.

"So, Y/N.." He said, dragging out the last syllable of your name playfully, making you shuffle around where you were sitting a bit. He certainly was a pretty attractive guy, but he also seemed to be very straightforward- something you always had struggled with, being more on the shy side. You looked at him, silently urging him to continue before taking a sip of your own beer- cherry flavored, simply because the regular was too bitter in your opinion. "What kind of toys do you use, heh?" He questioned, and you coughed suddenly. Taehyung laughed loudly at that, cooing when you calmed down slowly.

"Taehyung, stop harassing my roommate you fucking idiot. I need her to pay half of the rent-" He said, before sitting down next to you, raising one of his eyebrows at you. "And she also makes some killer lasagna. Kinda wanna keep that." He said, before laughing a bit. Even though Jungkook seemed to be pretty intimidating to you, he was actually a pretty good guy to have around. You both barely ever fought, and overall you could almost see yourself falling for him too- he had the looks after all. But his habit of bringing people over just to satisfy himself was something that made you keep some distance between you both. He wasn't someone to settle down- let alone with someone like you. You were pretty much the exact opposite of what he seemed to like.

Sending Tae home was easier than you both thought. Not being able to go to bed you both decided to watch some late night shows while casually talking- something that wasn't uncommon between you two. Just when you seemed to have gotten comfortable again, Jungkook couldn't help but tease you again.

"So, what Toys do you use, heh?" He said, laughing with his head thrown back afterwards at your red face. This would certainly never get old in his opinion. Just as he was about to apologize and tell you you didn't have to answer, your voice was heard, however.

"None." You said, and his eyes widened at that. "What? Do I look like I do these things to you?" You asked, and he cocked his head to the side a bit, scanning you obviously. He shrugged, and you began to pout, moving to wrap your pastel pink blanket around yourself. "I don't even know how to buy one. That stuff is just.. don't know. Gross." You said, and Jungkook turned on the couch, body facing you now, his interest sparked.

"Gross? So you never had sex before?" He said, and you went silent. Were you serious right now? You were an angel in his eyes, body proportions almost perfect, hell, even your slight imperfections were adorable in his eyes. Up until now he had been sure that you at least have had your fair share of experience, but a virgin? His world was suddenly turned upside down. "Well.. that's something I didn't expect." He said, making you raise your eyebrows at him. "You're hot. Thats why. Oh well." He said, missing the way your eyes widened at that. "I'm gonna go to bed now. Goodnight." He simply said, and you answered with a short 'goodnight' as well- still a bit surprised by his statement. Jungkook thought.. you were attractive?

He'd somehow gotten used to you, how you would leave your pastel pink but admittedly really soft blanket in a pile on one edge of the couch in the living room, how you sometimes left your toothbrush in the sink when you'd been in a hurry, or how you would hum to a song, not knowing he could hear you very clearly. Maybe he really did go soft after living with you for a while. He still didn't know himself why he got so upset with Taehyung the day prior; was he really being selfish? He was protecting you, nothing more. Taehyung was everything but a gentle lover, jungkook just knew he'd break you for sure, not to mention that you already stated how much you despised one night stands, which were practically Taehyungs speciality. He was just looking after you, nothing more.

The more he thought about it however, the more problematic the entire plan became.

But even now, while the young woman whose name he had already forgotten was giving it her all sucking his dick, all that seemed to swim around in his head were the events of the previous evening; how innocent and embarrassed you looked at him when you told him you'd never bought, let alone use a toy before. Surely you'd be someone to enjoy a good vibrator he thought, maybe as a gag he could buy you one? Oh how enchanting you'd look, spread out on his mattress while he would edge you over and over until you'd be crying, begging for his mercy. He would praise you for taking it so well, for being so good for him and only him, and he just knew you would blush. Instead of rushing to his own satisfaction, he would go slow, agonizingly slow, just to see how far he could push you. He would feast on you like a predator on his prey, pull you close so you had no chance of escaping him, he would trace every curve of your skin, gently, as if to make up for the bruises and Mark's he would surely leave all over you to feed his inner need to claim you, even though he would never let anyone see you like this while he was alive and breathing anyways. He just knew you would fit perfectly underneath him, his body covering you and shielding you away from the world around. Would you be able to take all of him? He probably would have to stretch you real good before even thinking about pushing his dick inside you, yet he just knows you would somehow make him proud and take it all, and he would continue his praises, telling you what a good girl you are.

He almost laughed at the situation, he really was in deep, wasn't he? Frustrated and confused he started to picture someone else entirely kneeled between his legs on the floor, how you'd bat your eyelashes at him like the fucking angel you were instead of the girl currently there, and that thought alone gave him the final push to shoot his load down the strangers throat, who moaned obscenely at the feeling. Usually he would be aroused, ready for more, but the sound of someone who wasn't his little roommate ripped him out of his daydream. This couldn't go on like that. Sending the lady out without many words, he decided that he just needed to fuck you, and all would be good again. He was just curious. Nothing else. He just needed to satiate his hunger and he could go back to normal.

How would he be able to do this without ending up hurting you? No matter how big his hunger for you was, he also considered you somewhat of a friend. He remembered when you came home crying one time after a bad day at work, and how he wanted to hold you, shielding you from any harm, making you feel safe. Because that's what he, and only he could do in his opinion. No matter what, he'd protect you, as weird as that sounded. Shit.

He really had a crush on you.

Unknowing to him you always held your hands over your ears whenever he brought home a different girl, not being able to listen to his moans mixed with someone else's. You were slowly beginning to regret moving in, already starting to think about maybe searching for a different apartment. But the rent was cheap, your room big, and his company relaxing when he wasn't busy being buried in someone he couldn't even remember after a day or two. Somehow tears were leaking out of your eyes, and you took your hands down from the sides of your head to wipe them away, careful to be as silent as possible as to not alert him that you were awake, well aware of the shower turning on. You did notice however how his sessions became shorter and shorter, always seeming to end sudden instead of usual. But the more you thought of it, the more angry at yourself for falling for this manwhore you became. You really should hate him- but you couldn't.

Tonight was definetely the prime example of why you didn't go into clubs. The sheer amount of people around you, the smell of sweat and cheap cologne and perfume all around made you feel like a headache was inevitable. Why were you here again? Oh yes. You followed Taehyungs advice and 'tried to make friends' instad of looming around your apartment all day. But right now you just really wished you stayed home instead of going here.

Sure, you liked your coworkers, and they seemed nice and everything, but if you were being honest, they're definition of fun was entirely not yours. You began to feel cramped up in the large club, making you desperately pull your phone out of your pocket, texting Jungkook in hopes he could save you from this god forsaken torment they called a club.

Minutes later, after Jungkook oh so gentlemanly told you to pick you up, you stood in front of that said location, waiting for his cheap but admittedly nice car to pull up. Sadly, someone else seemed to be way more intent on bringing you home- a young man your age, attractive, yes, but also heavily intoxicated. He had already eyed you up inside the building you noticed, yet hadn't made a move towards you. Now however, he seemed more determined than ever.

"Lets go home baby, I swear you won't regret-" He started, but you moved away from him, clenching onto your little handbag in order to at least keep your belongings safe if he tried anything else. Suddenly both your figures were drowned in the warm light of Jungkook's car lights- you immediately recognized them simply by the fact that one was brighter than the other, something you always told him, yet he always waved you off, telling you that both were doing just fine, even though his left light was clearly almost dead. Typical him, you thought. Yet right now, you couldn't be happier to see him.

He however, did not seem happy at all. His face was serious, his wavy hair hanging a little over his eyes, steps fast and strong enough that you could hear his black boots almost crush the slight gravel of the parking lot. "Fuck off sunnyboy and go back inside." He simply yelled out, having already seen how uncomfortable you were with the stranger so close to you. Jungkook wasn't someone to blindly punch someone, that said however, he couldn't contain himself once he saw the guy reaching out for your arm, your figure instinctively scrambling to get behind Jungkooks way larger body. He didn't even notice his fist connecting with the strangers face, simply leading you by the small of your back inside his car, driving home without any more words.

You were not to be touched by someone so dirty like this young man who didn't even knew his own limits it seemed.

Yet you were completely confused now. Maybe, if you were now the reason he got into physical fights, you should make a decision.

The next morning, sitting down at the kitchen table, you watched Jungkook filling your bowl with cereal as well- lucky charms for you, and chocolate chips for him. It became somewhat of a routine since you both woke up roughly around the same time, sharing breakfast was common. The best moment in your opinion to pop the bomb.

"I'm moving out." You said softly, fiddling with your fingers in your lap, leg nervously bouncing up and down. Why did this feel like you were breaking up with him? You both would've ended up going separate ways sooner or later anyways- so he would probably just nod, ask when, and that would be it. He was someone who didn't bother much. But the second you said it, he turned around completely shocked, suddenly very much awake.

"Why? Did I do something?" He asked, sounding genuinely offended for some reason you couldn't come up with. In his mind, scenario over scenario started to play, as if he wanted to search for something he may have said or done to make you so upset that you didn't want to live with him anymore. He knew he shouldn't be so upset over it, since you and him were merely roommates, friends who shared an apartment, nothing more, but he never really expected you to come up with it so sudden. Or maybe you had a boyfriend? What if it was Taehyung, and you just didn't tell him? He would rip that fucker's stupid blue hair out, he knew-

"No. I- not reall-" You sighed, setting your elbows on the kitchen table before letting your head fall into your hands. "Actually yes, you did." You started, looking at him, but unable to hold eye contact with the now completely confused curly haired boy in front of you. "You.. uh.. I cant sleep. Your, 'guests', the walls aren't really soundproof and like, I really- and just.. ugh this is so awkward, please don't make me say it-" You said, groaning the rest of your sentence before stubbornly shoving your back against the chair, throwing your legs back and forth viciously, reminding Jungkook of a kid who was close to throwing a tantrum. Even though this was definitely not the time to think about you laid out over his leg, his hand hitting your perfectly shaped butt until it was red just to punish you for being such a brat, exactly this picture began to form in the back of his head. He hated himself somehow, really. But somehow instead of accepting your decision, he moved to stand at the table, hands on top of it, eyes searching yours.

"Say it Y/N. You know I hate when I have to pull thing out your throat sweetheart." He didn't intend on using the nickname, but somehow he threw his hesitation out the window. If you really were fooling around with someone, someone who wasn't him he wanted to know- and even if you didn't share that information with him, you would move out anyways, so why hold back anymore? You shook your head at him, avoiding his gaze, and he clicked his tongue, patience slowly thinning out. "Spit it out." He said again, but he still got no reaction. His hand seemed to move without his consent when he suddenly found his fingers on your chin, moving your head to force your attention towards him. "Speak the fuck up, I swear to god." He said, voice dropping down lower, and somehow you seemed as if bewitched.

Maybe it was the way he stood there, how he still held your chin, or how intensely he looked at you, but words dropped out of your mouth as if you drank harry potters truth potion. "I cant stand that you let these girls touch you, that they can get you so easily and you just look past me a- and I really tried you know, because Taehyung said you liked mature girls more so I tried to do that, but he lied to me, you don't notice me at all, you're so mean you-" He shut your mouth with his mouth, trying to process the information he just received, yet it seemed like it was too much at once. You were.. jealous? And what kind of stupid advice was Taehyung giving away, that fucker? It was true that he liked his women to be confident and mature, but that was just so they knew what they were doing, and he didn't need to put so much effort into something he could get so easily.

"So you were jealous?" He said, a small smirk creeping up on him, cooing at you internally when you shook your head, face red. "If you wanted me to fuck you, you could've just asked. Geez." He said, but instead of being relieved, your shoulders sagged down. "What?" He asked, and you mumbled to him.

"Because I don't want just that one time stuff you do." Jungkook looked at you, eyes softening at your somehow-confession. He just put together the pieces in his head, and it did make sense. You were practically attached to him wherever he took you, always seemingly glowing whenever his attention was on you. He was as much as a dense head than you were, and he couldn't help but pull out a chair and sitting down, patting his legs as an invitation.

"Good, because I don't want that either. And I don't share either." He said, and looked at you gently, but with a deep darkness behind his eyes. "Trust me baby, you can sit down now and I promise you'll be the only one to have me- or you can move out and go on with your life." He almost laughed at the way it suddenly clicked in your head on what he was offering, suddenly jumping up and sitting on his thighs, legs on either side of his body. He looked down at you, a divine picture coming to life. His hands were placed on the exposed skin under your skirt, slowly sliding over the soft skin until his fingers felt the seam of your tights- those goddamn things he'd wanted to rip off of you so badly these past days. "You can touch me, you know?" He said lowly, and you noticed how awkward you must've looked for a second, seated on his lap with your hands in front of you, unsure where to put them. Just to ground yourself, your fingers began to play with his shirt, and he had to swallow the laugh that wanted to break free. "You don't have to do this, you know? I'm fine with waiting-" He began, but you immediately shook your head, however, at loss for words. He smiled again, dangerously so you noticed. His head dipped down, finally touching your skin on your neck with his lips, leaving open mouthed kisses under your earlobe down to the crook, hands moving over your clothes already mapping out your body in his mind, one hand pulling down one side of your soft fleece jacket you wore, pulling down your shirt as well, so he could softly nip at your shoulder, making you gasp oh so cutely at his actions. His hands didn't stop however, moving over your chest, kneading both of your breasts softly, as if he would hurt you if he used too much strength- which was probably the case. He already loved how bis his hands looked running over your body, how your hands held his shirt in fists, eyes closed, yet not because of fear; you looked serene to him, face showing him the soft pleasure you felt. He suddenly moved you a little, making you straddle one of his leg, core pushed against his thigh. "Let's start slow, yeah?" He asked, whispering words into your ear, lips never parting from you. He slowly began to move your hips, urging you to simply follow what you thought felt best to you. "Use me baby. Get off on my thigh." You whined at that, slowly starting to move more and more boldly, and he decided that he was officially a goner. Even if you didn't want him after whatever may be happening, he knew he could never go back. The way you squeezed your eyes shut every now and then, moving back and forth yet always a bit helpless, showing how inexperienced you were. He could feel the wet patch forming on his jeans, his hands moving you a bit faster, before you let your head fall onto his shoulder, making him chuckle. "What is it baby? Do you need help, hm?" He said, a bit mockingly even, and you nodded into his shoulder. "Tell me what you need then. What do you want, princess?" He said, running his hands over your back, feeling your bodyheat through your clothes.

"wanna get the same.. as the others.." You mumbled, unsure what you were even asking for. Jungkook however simply smiled, suddenly lifting you up, hands under your behind carrying you to his room, before finally letting you fall onto his mattress, laughing when your body jumped a little, making you squeak so cutely. He smiled, crawling over you, his fantasy finally coming to life- you looked so lost under him, so utterly defenseless he could swear he could feel something primal awake inside him- and that was not his dick, which already strained against his jeans, impatient.

"Ah but Baby.." He began, taking off your soft jacket before his hands traced your bare arms until he moved them under your shirt, feeling your skin underneath his fingers. "You're my special girl.." He began to lift your shirt up, helping you out of it before he got rid of your skirt as well, chuckling at your cute lacey underwear, which was so typically you. So innocent, yet so arousing, how you squirmed underneath him in nothing but those pastel colored undergarments. "And special girls get special treatments.." His words were low, soft spoken yet with a rough edge to his tone, a natural feature of his voice that you've come to love. You couldn't even begin to paint out a picture of what he was talking about- sure, you have seen your fair share of adult films, you weren't a kid after all- but up until this moment, up until you met Jungkook, you've never really thought about what you could like when it came to these things. Even in your thoughts you felt shy saying any profanities out loud, how could you expect to know about kinks? "But only if you can behave for me, but you can do that right?" He said, unhooking your bra behind your back with ease and interrupting your inner talk with yourself. "You'll be my good girl, yeah?" He said, and you just viciously nodded, already growing frustrated, and oh how he loved it. This was how he had pictured you. If he had known before that this was what it felt like to have control over someone, he would've never done anything else if he was honest; but then again, you really were a special girl to him. The way you suddenly mewled when his hand cupped your heat, giving you a little pressure just to tease you even further almost caught him off guard. God have mercy on his soul, you were so sensitive to him, and it dawned on him again that he was making you this way. He was the first to- and he would make sure he'd be the only one as well. All those noises tumbling out of between your lips were only his to hear. His breathing peaked up at the view he had, how you began to impatiently rut into his hand, needy for more than he was giving you. He leaned back, finally getting rid of his own clothes as well to your satisfaction, lazily throwing his opened flannel as well as his white shirt somewhere on the floor in his room, and you couldn't help but stare. Truth be told, you didn't really know what to expect of him if you were honest, his constant gym visits giving you the impression that he had to be extremely fit, yet his habit of consuming more than two cups of ramen easily spoke differently. He was, in your eyes, the perfect in-between- he definetely was fit, his abs visible to your eyes, yet he didn't look like those over-achievers you sometimes saw walking around the same gym whenever you met him there to go home together. The way his muscles flexed at every move when he loomed over you again made you want to touch him, yet your shy side forbade you. He chuckled again. "You can touch what's yours all you want, you know?" He said, before he began to place his hand back onto your chest, his breath hot on your collarbone where he placed his kisses again, already hooked on your taste. His other, tattooed hand found its way back to your core, feeling the dampness there with amusement. You were more than what he'd imagined. Slowly he got rid of that barrier however, leaving your tights on for his own pleasure and maybe also for the aesthetic of it, his digits circling around your sensitive bud, making you squeal again, putting your hands over your mouth to keep your voice down. He clicked his tongue at this, moving them to lay right under the small of your back. "Be good and keep them there, yeah?" He said, and you looked away.

"But its- thats emb-" You couldn't even finish the beginning of your rant before he went back to his task at hand, sitting back before moving your legs to spread obscenely over his thighs simply to catch a glimpse of your glistening center, before he placed his body over yours again, hand now roughly circling in delicious eights around your clit, making you gasp out.

"Nothing you do is embarrassing, you hear me. If anything its fucking hot how you can be so fucking adorable even with my hand between your legs, doll." He said, before dipping a finger into you, making you move a bit at the foreign feeling. "Gotta stretch you out babygirl.." He said lowly, careful not to get too fast. His second finger joined in, and he could feel how tight you were around them, already clenching a bit as well, making his mouth water, but also growing a bit of worry in the back of his mind. Usually he was quite cocky about his overly average qualities down in his pants, but now he was genuinely concerned to hurt you with it. This was definitely a first for him. "Baby you're so small.. I don't think you can take it.." He said, a bit of a teasing undertone to his words as well. "See? You're already squeezing my fingers so hard princess, how could my dick ever fit inside huh?" He said, contrary to his otherwise rough nature keeping his movements gentle and slow enough for you to adjust without causing much pain. He could see the slight discomfort in your eyes, yet you suddenly shook your head, voice whiny.

"Uh-uh.." You mumbled, and he laughed a bit at that. "can take it.." You said bratty as ever, feeding his ego to no ends. "Wanna have it- you.. you gon' give it right? 'm good.." You said, having troubles keeping your hands under your back just like he told you to, grabbing the sheets underneath you instead to have something to keep yourself grounded.

Jungkook couldn't stop smiling. You didn't even know what you were asking for, yet you seemed so drowned in trust with him, that you simply gave him the right to do anything he wanted with you. "You sure?" He said, and smiled at the way you nodded again with your eyes closed. He moved away after that, shedding his pants before he walked over to his bedside table, fishing out a condom, before moving back to you, your eyes now on him, or more than that, on his very apparent bulge his boxers failed to conceal. Maybe you really did ask for more than you could take. Quite literally. Sensing your growing uneasiness he simply discarded his underwear, cock finally springing free, slapping soundlessly against his abdomen before he sat between your legs again. You made grabby hands for the foil package in his hands, somehow wanting to slip it onto him, yet he shook his head amused. "Nuh-uh baby. I'm afraid if you touch me right now I'll just embarrass myself and come straight away." He said, and you giggled at that. The sound of it brought him back at ease, his little joke having helped to calm you down at least a little bit. He knew this was a big thing, especially for someone like you- and it made him feel even a bit pressured if he was honest. He was slow when he dipped his head inside, your body instinctively trying to move away a bit, but you forced yourself to stay still, eyes now pressed close. Moving around a bit he kept one hand around the base of himself, the other steadying himself next to your shoulder, kissing you on your lips for the first time since you both started, surprising you enough to not notice how he somehow began to glide into you with the help of your arousal and the lubricant of the condom around him. He groaned, the first actual noise he'd made you could tie to his pleasure, and your breathing picked up once you noticed how full you felt. Gasping several times he suddenly started to laugh, making you giggle as well, even though you didn't knew what was so funny in that situation. "God- ugh.. your- fuck you're tight.." He pressed out, fighting hard against his hips' own mind yelling at him to move, to wreck you, to utterly ruin you. But he couldn't allow himself to do that- reassuring himself that he would have time for that at a later date. He slowly started to move around after he calmed down enough, keeping his speed down to keep it gentle for you. "I- fuck.." He started, having to talk to stretch his patience out, and to also ease your mild pain a little bit. "Let's- ugh.. Let's go on a date tomorrow, yeah? I.. god-" He said, and you nodded, moaning in your delicate pitch he oh so loved. "Gonna be all romantic and shit- fuck- gonna treat you like- for Mcdonald's or some shit." He said, making you both laugh between gasps of pleasure, your hands suddenly frantically moving around the sheets, legs shaking as he began to speed up his pace. You didn't knew what an orgasm would feel like, or how you knew you would have one, but you gasped, chocking on unshed tears in frustration as you noticed that you couldn't tumble over that delicious edge, and Jungkook noticed, cooing at you. "Ah, my baby can't come without her little clit being touched?" He said, kissing the side of your neck, biting the skin teasingly before sucking a hickey on your collarbone, his hands now grabbing yours, fingers intertwining with his, before moving them around his neck, sensing how you wanted to be closer to him, even though that hardly seemed possible. "Come for me baby, you can do it." He said, kissing your shoulder as if to make up for his mark he'd left, his hand now reaching between your bodies, only needing to put a bit of pressure on your little nub to send you flying. You moaned out loud, uncaring on how you sounded, clinging onto him for dear life, his own release making him groan out as well.

He could feel your body trembling, your breathing still fast. He waited for a moment or two for himself to soften up so he could pull out gently- your still slightly clenching hole almost pushing his dick out of yourself. You whined at the empty feeling, and he hushed you gently, moving around so he was sitting up against his headboard, your body on his lap, head on his shoulder. His hand moved back and forth over your spine, the other keeping your body steadily against him. "You did so, so good baby." He gently whispered between your breaths still coming out a little faster than they should. "To be honest I actually was kind of worried you wouldn't be able to take it. I'm impressed princess." He said, making you giggle. You still weren't quite back yet, still bathing in your own afterglow, and he simply waited for you to calm down- slowly becoming aware of your surroundings again.

"Hey, Jungkookie.." You started with that nickname Taehyung always teased him with, yet you would get away with it anytime on his watch. He simply moved his head to look at you, even if you weren't at him. "Did you.. like, mean it? Are we.. a couple now, or?" You started a bit too softly, yet you didn't have to be scared of his answer to that.

He took a deep breath, before yawning a bit. "If you want us to be. I know I want to." He started, brushing some hair away from your eyes. You looked at him, big eyes so innocent like he didn't just fuck you into his mattress literally minutes ago.

"I want to!" You immediately said, making him chuckle and place a kiss on your nose, receiving a giggle at that, before you tensed up. He raised his eyebrows at that, before you looked at him surprised. "My legs are all- tingly.. Jungkook did you break me- HEY don't laugh!" You said, but he couldn't help himself.

He threw his head back, laughing his admittedly cute open laugh, before wrapping his arms around your body. "God I love you." He simply said, making you smile.

"Hey Jungkookie?" You said after a bit.

"Yeah Princess?" He answered.

"That McDonald's date still stands, right?" You said with a small voice, making him snort.

"Anything you want princess. Anything you want."

Taglist:

@mrcleanheichou @sugasbratz @sassysaxsolo @bananagukkie @wh3resangel @urmomgee

#jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook imagine #bts imagine #jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #bts smut #dom!Jungkook #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #reader insert

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kaeyas-beloved · 3 years

Text

Be You {Leviathan x Reader}

Leviathan x Reader (They/Them) || Obey Me!

Warning(s): None (Well, actually I make Levi bully Mammon for less than a paragraph)

Note: This was a request I received from someone on Wattpad!

-------------------

Finally, Leviathan’s done it. It’s been a long three days, hours upon hours having been poured into this playthrough.

“Woop woop! Aren’t I the best!” he praised himself, smiling wide. He’s skipped meals, pushed assignments to a later date and avoided any outside interactions to finish this game. His sight may be blurry and his limbs numb but if those were the sacrifices he had to make to go full completionist then it was all worth it. Now, time to celebrate a well deserved win.

“I think this calls for some of Ruri-chan’s celebratory season 3 limited edition candy and-!”

A chorus of knocks on his door immediately snuffed out his joy. Levi scowled, turning to glare at his door from his chair, it’s gotta be Mammon. The third born is absolutely positive that it’s his scummy older brother - it always is - back yet again to mooch more money off him for a trip to the casino. The usual slander he and his brothers would throw at the second born was on the tip of his tongue, ready to fire at will.

“Hey Levi? You there? It’s me....”

A voice that definitely doesn’t belong to the second born piping up and Levi, halfway through spouting the first syllable, shuts up all together. That’s his normie. A weight presses on his heart: he was just about to yell and insult his Henry…

Clearing his throat in hopes of gaining some kind of composure (all previous anger having diminished) the usual “What’s the password?” came out in a stutter. The demon was only acutely aware of his heart beat. How it skipped periodically. How it raced like he himself just ran a marathon. Levi waits a moment for the human to finish reciting the TSL excerpt. His hands begin to shake, his palms exuding profuse amounts of sweat. Gah! Why was he so nervous? Yeah, he’s aware that he’s just some gross shut-in otaku but he shouldn’t be this anxious! It’s not like this is the first time the exchange student has hung out in his room... alone... with him…

“Yo Levi?”

“Yes MC?”

“You think you could open the door now? Please?” Snapped back to reality, Levi hastily opened the door, finding himself regretting it soon after.

“I, uh, MC? What do you…?” his voice trailed off, orange gradient eyes locked on their garments. Immediately he sputtered, taking a step back. A bright scarlet coated his pale cheeks. Levi tried to hide it with his hand, though it was proven useless. The sea demon's at a toss up; should he screech? Slam the door shut? Combust all together!? At the rate he’s going, number three is looking pretty probable.

On the other end of this exchange, the human stood almost timidly out in the hall, fingers fiddling with one another while their eyes darted anywhere but at the man in front of them. The words of the fifth born rang in their ears:

“You absolutely have to wear this dear! My brother would surely fall head over heels for you, even more so than he already is!”

Oh whyyyyy did they trust him? Cause he had knowledge in fashion and love? Yeah, that was it. Still, if this turns south Asmo is going to get a lecture worse than any Lucifer could ever give… Damn, they really should’ve never let the lust demon shoo them into his private bathroom and make them change into this girly outfit.

And it hit them all at once: Levi doesn’t like it, what they’re wearing. What if he never talks to them after this? Maybe if they leave now then there will still be a chance they can forget about this.

Time went on slowly, like people who walk through mud are, and MC just about tuck tail and ran, what they had planned and gained courage for be damned.

Levi had other plans though.

Only now registering that the two were standing out in the open for all to see, in a blind and desperate attempt to save himself and the human from embarrassment, the third born latched onto their wrist, yanking them into the safety of his room. Unfortunately, demon strength is a funny thing and Levi had handled them with more force than he meant to, the human crashing into his chest - hard.

Perhaps it was instinct -- a need to protect the fragile being within his grasp -- but the demon's arm found purchase around their form, pulling them almost impossibly closer as they tipped. The pair, balance long gone, toppled over, landing with a thud.

Somehow, just like in all the romance anime he’s watched, Levi found himself hovering over them, arms propped on either side of their head. Their noses brushed, both staring frozen into each other's eyes. It wasn’t everyday that either of them were this close to one another, the exception being when the duo falls asleep playing video games. God, with this kind of proximity he was sure that the normie could hear how fast his meek heart was pounding. If this went on any longer he might actually die.

“Levi?” They whispered, their voice so quiet that he almost missed the call of his name. He however did catch their whisper and tensed up before coming back to the here and now, catching sight of the ‘what’ that led to their current position. Standing, Levi’s face burned hotter than ever before.

‘It was all because of them,’ he thought, turning away turning away with tense shoulders as he still tries to mask the red that licked all the way up to his ears. ‘It’s always their fault when I start to feel like I do now!’

“S-stupid n-normie! Why are you even wearing that?” he asked, chancing a glance over his shoulder. Levi did have to admit… they looked kinda cute in those clothes… and it looked like something Ruri-chan would wear too…

Gah! No no no focus Levi!

The ‘normie’ didn’t answer right away, instead raising to their feet and opting to grab a bag from beside the door. That wasn’t there before.

“Asmo…” they sighed, turning back to face the demon, nervousness swirling within them. Now or never, “Asmo said you’d like it if I wore something like this” So this is Asmo’s doing? Damn him… “Anyway, here, take it.”

“Wha-?” A shimmering gift bag the same colour of the water Henry his goldfish swam in was thrust into his hands, whatever he was about to say dying in his throat.

A present? For him? Oh why must a no good otaku like him have to go through such an intimate endeavor???? He just can’t take it!

Then again, this was like that one scene from season 2 ep. 22 of this anime he binged: I Forget Important Dates all the time which causes me to get into really awkward situations. This time I forgot about my Birthday and my Crush handed me a bag before confessing their love for me!

So-! Spurred on by fictional characters and MC’s urging “go on, open it”, Levi tore the tape, presented with his spontaneous gift: a popular multiplayer game from the human world; one near impossible to get in Devildom.

“WHAOOO!” MC couldn’t help but think how much he’s acting like a kid on Christmas, the notion cute in their opinion. The human stood still for a couple minutes, allowing their friend to rant and gush over the game (and how cool they were for even acquiring it).

“But…” the purple haired demon calmed down, “why did you suddenly give me this?” What? Did he not know what today was?

“It’s… it is your birthday isn’t it!?” Don’t tell them Asmo lied to them about Levi’s birthday!

Levi pulled out his phone, his eyes widening to the size of saucers, “No, it is my birthday,” he assured. With all the gaming he was doing he must've failed to noticed, which is strange considering the last time his special day drew near he practically counted down the days.

“MC.” He got their attention, looking them right in the eye, his words and actions portraying a sureness and sincerity, “Thank you and…” As quick as lightning strikes the ground, the human had themselves pulled flush against Levi once more, his head resting on their shoulder and nose buried in the crook of their neck. His hair, so soft and fluffy, left a ticklish sensation on their skin.

“And about what you said before. With Asmo. I do like what you’re wearing but…” he tightens his hold, “I like you just the way you are. I know you don’t usually dress like this and I want nothing more than for you to be comfortable, like how you make me. If that means dressing tomboy-ish then so be it. I want you to be you: the human only you can be: my Henry.”

“I’m glad you feel that way…” They smiled, arms wrapping around his torso. They hope their gratitude is able to shine through in the hug, “Now, ya wanna play your new game?”

“Yes!” He smiled, pulling back and raising his hand. They return the grin, suppressing a chuckle seeing as the demon reminded them of the YES demoji. “Oh, but um! Would you like to change first? It’s not that I don’t like seeing you dressed like that or anything but like I said I want you to be comfortable but also I don’t think my heart can take it anymore… wait that’s not what I meant!” That made them chuckle though.

“Do I have to?” They teased, enjoying the reaction they got out of the third born. Levi gulped, ducking his head while whispering a small no. “Then maybe I’ll stay like this a little longer. It is your birthday after all.” Tugging the envy demon towards their usual gaming spot they let Levi set up the game before the two plopped down in their spots.

“Oh and Levi?” He hummed, tilting his head, the light of the screen illuminating the side of his face. They hugged him once more, “Happy Birthday”

-------------------

[Masterlist]

Thank you for reading!

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yukidragon · 3 years

Text

Our Life Sippet - A Special Guest

It’s that time again, time for another slice of my first draft fanfic novelization for Our Life: Beginnings & Always! This time it’s another section of the Step 1 prologue. Time for some more cute little eight-year-olds being cute and another XOXO Droplets cameo!

Thanks, as always, to the game’s creators @gb-patch for making the game and inspiring me. You’re awesome and so are your games!

...

Cove carefully set down the box he brought with him before sitting beside Jamie. He realized too late that he should have asked her for permission before moving her stuff like it belonged to him. He made a small, awkward sound, drawing her attention away from the door and back to him as he fumbled for what to say. “I brought the box of shells. I wanna keep looking at them.”

Jamie had already noticed Cove carrying her treasure box with him, but didn’t pay as much mind to the act as he did. “Great,” she said with a smile. “Bust it open. We can keep looking while we wait for Shiloh.”

Relieved, Cove smiled back at Jamie before opening the box. Despite being careful when carrying it, the loose contents had shifted during the move. A bright shimmering streak of orange peeking out of tissue caught his eye. Carefully, he unwrapped a large intact conch streaked in shades of dark and light orange. He marveled at the way the light hit its polished surface and transformed the vibrant orange hue to a different color as he held it up for a closer look. His eyes widened in wonder and a sound of amazement escaped him as he turned the shell this way and that, watching how the shell somehow magically had the power to change from one color from the next before returning to its natural orange shade.

Cove turned to Jamie as he presented the conch to her with stars in his eyes and a huge smile on his face. “I think this one is the best of them.”

“That’s my favorite too,” Jamie said proudly. “That’s why I cleaned it up real good. If you put it to your ear, you can hear the ocean.”

Cove hesitated a moment to make sure that was an offer for him to try it rather than a statement of fact before holding the shell over his ear. He heard the sound of ocean waves just as promised and his smile grew wider.

Jamie delightedly watched Cove admire her prized treasure, her expression growing thoughtful. He seemed so happy with it - the happiest she had ever seen him.

Earlier that day, her moms talked about how it would be a good idea to give the Cove and his dad a special gift to welcome them to the neighborhood. Perhaps just the right welcoming gift would make Cove feel just a little better about the move and being away from his mom, and he wouldn’t have to feel sad anymore.

Sure, it was a bit of a shame to give away her best seashell, but Jamie was confident she could find another one she liked even better eventually. The best part was finding the treasure after all.

Decided, Jamie nodded to herself. “You can keep it if you want.”

Cove froze. He had just been starting the process of re-wrapping the shell in tissue when Jamie made her unbelievable offer. His eyes widened and his mouth hung open in absolute shock. “Really?!”

Jamie smiled, tickled that she had surprised him with her gift. “Sure. You like it a lot, right?”

Cove stared at Jamie a moment more before he had to look away, unable to meet her earnest gaze. It was strange that she was so ready to just give away something so obviously amazing and special, especially after she had just told him it was her favorite of her treasures. It made him feel weird in ways that he couldn’t put into words.

“Uh huh,” Cove finally said quietly as he placed the shell back down in the box. “But… I don’t want to take it from you. It’s okay.”

Jamie saw his hesitation and discomfort clear as day on his face and regretted making the offer. She hadn’t meant to make Cove feel pressured to take it. Gifts were meant to make people happy to get them, not nervous.

Maybe Cove would feel better about accepting it another time when they got to know each other better. They were neighbors now after all.

“Okay,” Jamie said as she gave Cove a reassuring smile to show that she wasn’t upset that he refused her gift. “Wanna hear how I found it?”

Cove shyly smiled back at Jamie, grateful for the subject change and that he hadn’t hurt her feelings. “Uh huh.”

With that, Jamie launched into another colorful story, and the awkward moment was quickly forgotten.

The pair had been able to look through a couple more items in the collection before the doorbell finally rang. They both jumped at the sudden loud sound and turned to the front door at the same time.

Cove frowned a little before looking at Jamie. “Lizzie’s friend?”

Jamie nodded. Only people who knew where to look could find the doorbell, which included Shiloh.

The frown on Cove’s face grew into an uncomfortable grimace. Though he got to his feet after Jamie did, it was with great reluctance as he stared at the door in a mixture of trepidation and resentment.

Jamie looked from the door to Cove. Although she knew she should answer it and let Shiloh in, she was reluctant to do so after seeing his clear distress at the idea. Cove didn’t hide his emotions very well, which made him very easy for her to read. However, before she could ask if he was going to be okay, he spoke up first.

“This isn’t a good idea,” Cove said as he shifted uneasily from one foot to the other.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be okay,” Jamie said, trying her best to sound comforting. “All you gotta do is say hi. Besides, there’s nowhere to go. He’s at our only door, and if you go upstairs, he’ll find you.”

Despite the reassurance and reasonable argument, Cove was already looking around, his eyes wide and searching for some sort of exit strategy. Finally, he locked his gaze to the back of the house and the large windows looking out to the hills he hid in last night. “I can go out the window.”

Cove didn’t wait to hear Jamie’s opinion on the matter, already moving quickly towards the window.

Panic shot through Jamie at the idea of Cove climbing out the window. What if he fell and broke his other arm? Her mind raced for a way to stop him as she ran after him. “Wait! You don’t have to do that!”

Jamie managed to get in front of Cove, holding up her arms both in an appeasing gesture and to block his way. “Shiloh’s not scary, really! Every single bunny rabbit is scarier than Shiloh.”

Cove frowned, but he didn’t try to get around Jamie. That was something at least, she decided. “But I don’t want to see him,” he said stubbornly. “I don’t know him.”

Jamie gave Cove a sympathetic smile. “I know you’re worried, but you’re not gonna have to meet him by yourself,” she said softly. “If you have a hard time with him, I’ll tell him to leave. Is that okay?”

Cove considered the offer seriously as he looked into Jamie’s blue eyes. Even though they hadn’t even known each other for a full day yet, somehow he found comfort in having her support. Finally, he nodded, his shoulders slumping a bit as he gave in. “Okay.”

That was when Shiloh poked his head into the house, holding open the front door. His big, curious gray eyes quickly locked on the other two children. He focused on Jamie first, who stared back at him.

Jamie managed to return the cheerful smile Shiloh sent her way with a small one of her own, but she couldn’t help but worry about how he was feeling. She had no idea when he opened the door, or how much of the conversation he heard. He didn’t look upset, or any different than he usually did really, but it was hard for her to believe that he hadn’t overheard at least part of what they were talking about.

“Hi, Jamie!” Shiloh said with his typical cheer, which only faltered with a touch of uncertainty as his gaze shifted to Cove. “And hi, uh, Cove?”

Cove didn’t turn around right away, his uneasy gaze lingering on Jamie until she looked back at him and gave him a reassuring smile. Slumping his shoulders a bit and letting out a sound of acknowledgement, he forced himself to face the kid his dad wanted him to make friends with. “Hi.”

Just like that, Shiloh’s smile was back to its normal level of pleasantness. “I’m Shiloh! It’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah,” Cove said with nowhere near the level of affability of Shiloh. He couldn’t exactly return the sentiment, since that would be lying.

Since there was no escaping this encounter, Cove took a moment to take a good look at the other boy. Shiloh was noticeably shorter than him, with fluffy brown hair hidden under a very large blue hat that matched his striped shirt and overalls. For some reason, Shiloh was blushing, though Cove couldn’t see why. Still, it wasn’t as interesting as the fact that Shiloh’s peachy skin was covered from head to toe in more freckles than Cove had ever seen on anyone before.

“You have a lot of freckles,” Cove said once he finished his assessment.

Shiloh didn’t seem to know what to make of that observation for a moment, but he nodded all the same. “Uh, right. I do,” he said. He didn’t give Cove a chance to make another remark before he moved the topic along. “What are you guys doing?”

“We’re looking at shells,” Cove said as his gaze drifted back to Jamie’s treasure box.

“Awesome,” Shiloh said in what Jamie knew to be the usual Shiloh fashion. “Can I do it too?”

Cove could only offer a shrug. It wasn’t his collection to show, and he couldn’t say he cared either way if Shiloh was interested.

“Sure,” Jamie said happily. She wasn’t about to complain about the interest in her treasures, even if she had a feeling Shiloh would probably get bored of it soon. “We can look at them some more in my room.”

As soon as the three children returned to Jamie’s bedroom and the box was opened back up, Cove had already spotted another shell that caught his eye. “What about that one…?”

Jamie was only all too eager to dive back into another amusing story of her adventures hunting for treasures as she showed off her collection. As far as she was concerned, the plan for the afternoon was to look at all her treasures. She wasn’t particularly in the mood to do something else, especially not when Cove seemed to be having just as much fun as she was.

It was great to see Cove genuinely enjoying himself despite how unhappy the move made him, and Shiloh… well, he was smiling and expressing himself in typical Shiloh fashion, so that meant he was having fun too, right? At least Jamie hoped he was. She could never really tell with Shiloh.

“What’s that one?” Shiloh asked.

Jamie followed Shiloh’s pointing finger to her prized conch. It must not have gotten wrapped back up in its protective tissues properly, and its glittery surface easily drew attention when the sunlight hit it. Still, she wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to show it off, and she delicately removed the shell from the tissue before holding it up to the light so it could be seen better. “This one’s my favorite. I found it last year on a family picnic.”

“Cool,” Shiloh said. “I think that’s my favorite too.”

The exchange rubbed Cove the wrong way for some reason. He watched Jamie as she beamed at the praise, and he wondered if she would offer the shell to Shiloh like she did for him earlier. He didn’t like the idea, but he knew he couldn’t say anything to stop her if she decided to give the shell away to someone else.

“Thanks!” Jamie said before retelling the story of its discovery.

To Cove’s surprise, when Jamie was done talking, she carefully re-wrapped the conch before setting it back down in the box.

“Check this out,” Jamie said as she picked up a red and bubbly piece of sea glass. “It looks like a heart, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it does,” Shiloh said. “That’s neat.”

Cove stared at Jamie as she launched into yet another story. It was interesting, like all the others she told, but he couldn’t help but be distracted by his confusion. When he said the conch was his favorite shell, she didn’t hesitate to try to give it to him. When Shiloh said the exact same thing, it was like the thought of giving the shell away never crossed her mind.

It was strange. Cove didn’t see why Jamie would try to give the shell to him and not Shiloh; she knew Shiloh a lot longer than him after all.

Still, Cove wasn’t about to complain, no matter how weird and fluttery he felt about it.

#Our Life Beginnings & Always #Our Life #ourlifeba #Cove Holden #Jamie Last #Shiloh Fields #XOXO Droplets #Jamie Leimomi #My Writing

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script-nef · 4 years

Text

How their relationship gets revealed (iv)

Characters: Lev, Iwaizumi, Sugawara, Kuroo

Category: fluff

Haiba Lev

The only reason Lev chose his current agency is because of you

Yeah, the agency is famed for being really good and putting the artists as its priority and all so he was interested, but the fact that you were going to be one of his seniors sealed the deal

You’re kind of his idol and he’s bought every single one of your photobooks and magazines

When he gets the chance to shoot an ad with you, he hops onto it with no second thought

And when he sees you in your outfit, looking amazing as hell, he nearly faints right there and then

Pulls a lot of NG because you’re waaaay too close and he can feel his face burn up. He’s absolutely sure you can hear his heart trying to break out of his chest.

But you’re so kind and understanding that he falls in love with you even more

Asks you for your phone number and keeps on dropping hints that he likes you but at the same time tries to rein it in since overly affectionate people can be uncomfortable (at least, according to his sister)

He’s not really good at this pulling and pushing thing which makes it even cuter and you accept his confession

He’s basically on cloud 9, just endlessly happy at the fact that you’re going out with him. You. And him. Lev regularly pinches himself to see if he’s dreaming.

But then a news of you dating another incredibly famous model breaks and he gets pissed

And in the spur of the moment, he uploads a video on his SNS account about it

“[Name]-san is dating me! Don’t believe fake news!”

As soon as he uploads it, he realises what he’s done

But it’s too late. At least 2,000 people have seen it. By the time he takes it off, the number grew to at least 4,500

Needless to say, the company was not impressed but thanks to that, the baseless news died down once they released an official statement

And now you’re allowed to go on public dates together, much to Lev’s glee

Iwaizumi Hajime

You worked as one of MBSY Black Jackals’ managers and transferred over to the National team during the Olympics

Iwaizumi became one of the people you talked most to since Hinata, Bokuto and Atsumu were always getting scolded for their lack of restraint when practising

Eventually you two grew close and found out you actually have quite a lot in common, other than constant exasperation for your troublesome hyperactive athletes

He asks you out on a date, face blazing red and eyes darting to every place that isn’t you

It was quite adorable under the blinking street light after he walked you home

Of course, you accepted and thus began the secretive dating while trying to win gold for your country

Displays of affection in workplaces were usually in the forms of glances or sitting closer during meetings and your hands lingering on each other’s longer while handing files

Some of the sharper ones—e.g. Komori, Hoshiumi, Yaku—kind of caught onto the vibe between you two but opted not to say anything

After all, Iwaizumi was more lenient if he was in a good mood, and that usually happened after he spent time with you

One day, at a dinner after winning a major match, he got absolutely wasted

Everyone was taking videos since he’s always the straight-laced and serious one, but now he’s all soft and giggly

And you tried to stop him from drinking even more, and he just stares at you

“I—Iwaizumi-san?”

*stares*

“You… really need to stop drinking, it’s not goo—”

And bam he just pulls your face to his and kisses you. When everyone’s watching. And they’re recording this

He lets you go and just immediately conks out

Leaving you with a red face and at least 15 pairs of wide, unbelieving eyes

Sugawara Koushi

If the students had to pick their favourite teacher, it would be a tie between you and Sugawara-sensei

Literally everyone—ranging from other teachers, PTA, students—love you two

In all seriousness, who wouldn’t? You’re both loving, kind, always stay behind for kids whose parents are running late, bring tons of sweets and so on.

Somehow all the students collectively think:

“[Surname]-sensei and Sugawara-sensei are so cute together!”

“We should nudge them together!”

“Operation Romance is a go!”

And they subtly (in their opinion but in reality not so much) try to hint at how good you guys will be in a relationship

Such as:

“Do you like that, [Surname]-sensei? I think Sugawara-sensei likes it as well! You two share a lot of interests and tastes in things.”

“You both graduated from Karasuno High? You guys have so much in common!”

It’s incredibly obvious and you both catch onto it by the second time but it’s absolutely adorable so you try to turn a blind eye to it

But then the students come up with a “scheme” to finally pull you two together for good

It’s a school festival and yours and his class decided to collaborate for a theatre play

And they hire you and Sugawara as two childhood friends who slowly fall in love

Any complications are shut down

“Um, you guys do know it’s supposed to be a class play, right? As in, students acting, not teachers?”

“But [Name]-sensei, we don’t know love yet! You and Sugawara-sensei are adults! We’ll do the writing and everything else!”

“But—”

“No buts!”

And somehow the play goes along well and you have a blast with everyone. It’s really funny to see how such little kids are so creative

At the end of the act, you and Sugawara get married and you realise this is what they’ve been scheming

“Aha! You’re married now! No take-backsies!”

“Hmmm, well okay… but you guys wanna know a secret?”

“?”

“We’re already married.”

Kuroo Tetsurou

Kuroo is incredibly well-liked in his department

He’s friendly, funny, helpful, knowledgeable in volleyball and full of enthusiasm—and with his good looks—a perfect co-worker

His nickname is “Mr Perfect From The Promotion Department”

Everyone in his department likes him, platonic or otherwise

A large majority of the workplace population have tried, and failed, to go out on a date with him

He rejects them all the time with a bright smile and a “sorry!”

They eventually find out it’s because he’s already dating someone and a lot of hearts are broken that day

He’s still very much loved, though

You wake up to your very rare free day which is always used to laze around the house and binge some new anime

But when you trudge into the kitchen, Kuroo’s neatly packed bento is sitting on the island counter

He forgot it for the first time since he has a vital meeting today and was stressed out over it

So being the amazing partner you are, you decided to bring it to him

Over in Kuroo’s company, he just closed a huge deal and the whole department is happy

He was going to eat his bento but seeing as it was gone and he didn’t want to disturb you on your day off, he just opted to tag along with his co-workers to a nearby restaurant

The moment he walked out of the building coincided with you arriving at the front door with his lunch and he just. Stops. And just runs to you while all of his friends call for him.

“[Name]? What are you doing he— Did you come to give me my lunch?”

“Um, yeah… It’s fine if you’re going to eat with your co-workers, I’ll go back home.”

“No way! Sorry, guys! I’m going to have to miss out today!”

Everyone just watches while he smiles dopily and hugs the life out of you even when you’re threatening him with violence to “get off! Your co-workers are all watching!”

And he takes you into the building so he can eat in peace and occasionally feed you away from prying eyes

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jaskiersvalley · 3 years

Note

So I just discovered your maned wolf Jaskier and I thought I might add something I know about them. As the original person mentioned they are not foxes or wolves but more like a wild dog but not. They are their own thing. Also their pee smells like marijuana. I've seen some at the the national zoo in D.C. they do better in pairs or with company then on their own. The last one they had before the pair of brothers they had when I went didn't do good on their own. Their legs are sk long because they are made to see over tall grass. I love manned wolves they are so unique.

This is such a delightful bunch of facts about maned wolves! Thank you for sharing your knowledge, I adored finding out more about these fascinating creatures. As thanks, here’s a slightly different take on maned wolf!Jaskier for you.

True Colours

It was rare for graduates of Aretuza to get together. Mostly because their motives and goals were rather at odds with each other usually so it wasn't a good idea to get together. Things could get rather unpleasant. But, once in a while, they could set their ambitions aside and enjoy each other's company.

"I'm telling you, she was scum," Yennefer giggled, leaning into Fringilla's shoulder. "You can do miles better."

"I just wish I'd known what she was like before I wasted all that time on her." Nursing a freshly broken heart, Fringilla was eager for any kindness her peers would show her. "Humans are scum."

All too eager to agree, Yennefer nodded along. Humans were rather unfortunate creatures, she couldn't really help with that, ridding the Continent of them was quite unethical. But the thing about true colours, she could most definitely help with that.

"I've got the perfect spell! We can reveal the whole Continent's true colours." Laughter went up around them at the declaration and Yennefer sniffed as she straightened up. "You can all help. Or watch and learn."

It was quite amazing, how much power five drunken sorceresses could harness. The spell took a considerable amount of rather raw, unrefined Chaos and they all sprawled on the ground in a sweaty pile by the time it was done. Alas, in their drunken stupor, they noted that the spell had done nothing other than make the sky flash and rumble in an ever spreading wave until it moved out of sight.

The next morning they were all suitably hungover and more than ready to return to their usual duties. There was only so much time they could spend with each other before the truce ended and they were at each other's throats again.

Somewhere else on the Continent it was another beautiful day for Jaskier to follow Geralt around. He said follow because he'd once again managed to piss his boyfriend off and sent him stomping off ahead.

"Look, all I said was that you'd look better if you just glowered a little less," Jaskier grumbled. The lute case bounced against his back like it always did when he did a little jog to keep up with Geralt. "You do give the wrong impression sometimes. I swear you do this deliberately, hide the fact you're an absolutely cuddly sweetheart under all those onion-y layers of doom, gloom and...I have nothing that rhymes. Broom? Shroom? Groom? Fume! Because you're fuming!"

Funnily enough, it did nothing to ease Geralt's sulk but Jaskier was undeterred. This was nothing more than a blip in the journey of their love. A bit of bad weather, not even a storm.

They wandered in a manner Jaskier would call aimless while Geralt described as optimal in the hunt for a contract. At least it got them to a town in decent time, the soft summer light enough to get to an inn for food and a performance. Jaskier was ecstatic.

His set was going great, everyone was merry, having a blast as he belted out shanty after drinking song. Ale flowed, as did the coin. The sun was setting and he set his lute aside for a quick break. One moment he was staring out over the tavern and the next the world lurched. He was shorter, on all fours and everything looked and smelled different. Especially the patrons. A variety of animals stared back at him before pandemonium exploded. Most creatures reared back, staring in terror into the corner Geralt had been in, which was quite glaringly empty.

"What has that bastard done to us?" The cry went up and the dogs and foxes in the tavern rallied, ready to hunt Geralt down.

"I did nothing." A familiar voice rang through the room and everyone backed away as a harvest mouse climbed onto the table. Cute and defenceless, Geralt stared out at the tavern from the top of the table, nose twitching.

From his vantage point on the stage, with his long legs, Jaskier could see how the villagers weren't convinced. In fact, they saw an easy target and looked ready to exact revenge on an innocent party. Snarling, he raced to the other side of the room and hopped onto the table, towering over Geralt.

"He's innocent." Sharp teeth were bared fiercely at the crowd. When it didn't look like they would back down, Jaskier did the only thing he could. He picked Geralt up in his mouth and pretended to swallow while the tiny harvest mouse clambered out the side of his mouth and got lost in Jaskier's thick mane.

The villagers didn't look all that appeased but Jaskier didn't allow them to get out of control.

"Tasted like disappointment. Now. Shall we howl at the moon?" For some reason it seemed to do the trick and the shock of being turned into animals turned into a celebration.

In the morning, everyone was back to their regular human form, including Geralt. They had to make a hasty run from the village before the angry mob punished them for their existence.

"Whew! That was exciting. But also, what the fuck happened?"

There were no answers. Each night, as the sun set, they changed into animal form. Jaskier a maned wolf, Geralt a harvest mouse.

"I can't work like this," Geralt growled. "We're getting to the bottom of this."

Only, there seemed to be no help. Everywhere they went, the whole Continent seemed to turn into animals from dusk until dawn. Most villagers were wolves, bears, cats and other animals that could be tamed but the wild, aggressive undertones of predators were still there. A few were goats, cows and sheep, a few bulls. By contrast, courts were full of snakes and birds. Rarer, less straightforward to deal with. In Geralt's opinion, less pleasant to deal with. And no court's sorceress would give him a straight answer. They had to know something, Geralt knew when he was being lied to. But he didn't know what they were hiding.

With no other option, he headed home. Each night he climbed into Jaskier's mane, allowed his boyfriend to keep him safe from owls - some natural, others transformed humans who enjoyed the hunt. At the base of Kaer Morhen, he ran into something most unusual. A hyena gave Jaskier a flat stare from where it was curled in the overgrowth. By its stomach was a capybara and a hare, both looking a bit patchy and weathered. Even more interestingly, there was a cockatoo on the top of its head, eyes closed.

"Friends," Jaskier called, "we come in peace."

Never before had Jaskier felt more threatened than when a capybara and hare looked ready to tear his throat out.

"Eskel. Lambert," Geralt called and climbed to sit on the end of Jaskier's snout. "You made friends."

The hyena got to its feet, looming over the transformed Witchers protectively. "You know these two?"

"Geralt you fuck," the hare growled. "Is this your doing?"

"Would I be here if it was?" Jaskier didn't have to see the harvest mouse's face to know Geralt was rolling his eyes. Still, he tried.

It made the cockatoo screech out a laugh. "Crossed eyes do not become you, weird wolf thing."

Puffing up, Jaskier wanted to object but Geralt cut in. "Leave Jaskier out of this. Who are you travelling with?"

"I'm Aiden," the cockatoo replied, spreading his wings wide and bobbing down in a bird equivalent of a bow. "Cat Witcher by name, cockatoo by nature."

That, Geralt could have guessed, he was much more interested in the hyena who seemed keen to be forgotten. He stared at him until it got awkward.

"Cahir." The name said nothing but there was a broad, southern accent to it. Intrigued, Geralt wished he could take a better look at the man. He would be able to do so in the daylight.

Introductions out of the way, Geralt climbed down, only to scuttle across the gap and climb onto Eskel's back. The capybara grunted sleepily and settled back on the ground.

"Sleep. We've got quite the climb ahead of us tomorrow." At least it was warm, meaning the trek should only take a day without snow impeding them. They'd be home by evening.

They staggered through on four legs the following night. Mostly because Jaskier had insisted on stopping and admiring every angle of every view, sighing wistfully. Finally, they arrived at the door which had been left open a crack, only needing to be nudged open on silent, freshly oiled hinges.

"I was wondering when you'd get home," a voice greeted them. Vesemir did not look impressed as he looked over them. A gopher stared at them with a rather done expression. "Aretuza had a lot to answer for."

#geraskier #eskel/lambert/aiden/cahir #geralt of rivia #jaskier #lambert #eskel #aiden #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #vesemir #yennefer of vengerberg #fringilla vigo #animal transformation #tldr: they all turn into animals each night

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ronalddear · 3 years

Text

Experiment.

hey! this is a little one-shot into some DH tent angst (really doesn't get better than that) this is my first time writing any fanfiction at all so bear in mind that this is very armature.

I've been thinking about this idea for a couple months now and it's officially my headcannon replacement for the Harry-Hermione dance scene in DH, which i'm not the biggest fan of. I've already rambled on a bit but please feel free to reblog and comment your opinions and possible improvements!

The ground was inexplicably hard where Ron stood, the canvas tent behind him violently thrashing through the harsh night wind. Perhaps his thin shoes were wearing out after years of being hand-me downs, or months of endless use while they aimlessly trudged around Britain.

Ron knew though, that he was just tired. He didn't know how his shoulders managed to sag with exhaustion while remaining tense in discomfort but that's how he's been since he woke up in that god-forsaken tent.

He checked and re-enforced the wards, something that he was insanely adamant about after returning, paranoia finally setting in. It was constant at this point, hunger had become somewhat familiar and his fingertips were always a faint purple.

Not that he was complaining, he had Harry and Hermione within arms and ears reach now and he could not possibly ask for anything more.

"Ron! Dinner!", Harry's voice rang through his ears, disrupting his thoughts.

Shit. He had done it. He wasn't aware how long he had been wallowing outside and he was sure the porridge he had taken his time making for the three of them had overcooked on the stove.

He could picture Hermione's look of disdain clearly and cursed himself, not wanting her to get more mad at him but also acknowledging how he had wasted their already near non-existent supply of food.

"Merlin, I'm sorry! I'll try and find something else to-" he began with pace and halted halfway through.

Harry stood expectantly in the tiny living room area in front of Hermione who was neatly sat on their tiny couch. Harry's hands were raised excitedly yet awkwardly in an 'L" shape gesturing towards the worn table where Hermione's books usually lived.

Except there was a small space cleared, and it was occupying a small plate which had about 4 stacks of bread, with jam doused in-between and on top, with the wand that he had given Harry stabbed in the middle, a tiny flame at its tip.

Bloody hell it was a birthday cake.

"My birthday already?" he mumbled, still in awe of the poorly presented but beautiful stack in front of him.

"Well-"

'It was yesterday, I checked the calendar this morning." Hermione cut Harry off shortly, her eyes shamefully anywhere but Ron.

"Oh" he said, wishing so desperately that she would just look at him.

"Come on then mate, make your wish, because I'm not bloody singing" Harry encouraged, his eyes shining fondly at Ron.

With a soft chuckle, he sat on the ground at the table, feeling Harry follow next to him. He blew out the 'candle' softly, not even thinking about his wish, there were simply too many.

Harry gave a low whoop and reached over Ron with a knife and fork and haphazardly cut the cake into thirds.

When Hermione's eyes finally reached his, because yes, he had not taken his eyes off her, his stomach gave a jolt and a small smile graced his lips. Her lips however were still set in the line that she had been giving him for the past couple weeks but her eyes were so gentle and loving, almost unwillingly so, as if she was trying so very hard to be mad. After Harry hurriedly plated their shares and they began eating, a small lump began forming in Ron's throat. He willed himself not to cry, it was just sodding jam soaked toast after all.

He looked up at his two best friends as they ate, observing as Harry scarfed down his portion and as Hermione ate slowly, taking sips of her weak tea in between, knowing it was far too sweet for her taste.

"Wish we could have given you a gift." she said so softly, that he had taken a few seconds to register that she said anything at all.

Her eyes were still on her plate.

"Don't need one", he murmured, hoping that he sounded earnest enough that it could translate how very thankful he was.

"Really?! You sure?", Harry said, and Ron swore for a second that it was eleven year old Harry speaking to him. It was evident that the boy was prone to sugar rushes, even if it was a tablespoon of old jam.

"I have all I need.", he said, voice steadier this time, flashing a grateful smile at him, which was returned.

"Really? Not even a special birthday snog Ron? Because if you want I'll do it again-"

"Harry I'm fine! Merlin's Beard!', Ron interrupted Harry's rushed teasing with loud laughter, Harry's roaring laugh following close behind.

"Wait what do you mean again?" Hermione chanced at Harry, her eyebrows furrowed inquisitively and mouth adorably agape.

Breaking their giggling fit, they both turned towards her , eyes widening at the exact same time. It was then Ron realized that there was soft music playing, presumably from the wireless that was on the table. Has it always been on?

'Nothing don't worry."

"Nothing!"

Harry had followed Ron with the most non-convincing 'nothing' he had ever heard. Sensing what was about to happen, he suddenly felt the strongest urge to slap Harry on the back of his head.

"No no, you said again" Hemione retaliated, her eyes wide as ever, it was the most lively Ron had seen her for months.

"It was once in fourth year!"

'Don't worry about it Hermione, it's fine."

Ron's head snapped toward Harry cursing the stupid sugar in the stupid jam that apparently made Harry, quite frankly, very stupid.

"Wait wait! what?!" Hermione was energetic now and had fully swiveled to face them both.

Realizing that he physically could not lie to Hermione straight to her face, he accepted his fate and both boys began rambling at the same time, Harry excitedly, Ron bracingly.

"Look after the Yule ball-"

"This is rather depressing actually-"

"Shut up Ron, you liked it."

"I don't recall saying I didn't-"

'Anyway, after the shit-show that was the ball, y'know, we wanted to see if-"

"Oh my god I can't believe we're actually- We said we wouldn't tell anyone!"

"Bit late now Ron, anyway, we wanted to-'

"To see if what?!" Hermione gaped at them both, she was clearly teasing now, after seeing Harry's frantic (and hand waving heavy) storytelling and Ron's hair to toe blush.

"Just experimenting-"

"Just for fun!" Harry interjected.

They turned towards each other, eyes wide and then proceeded to practically scream at Hermione.

"Just for fun!'

Just experimenting!"

Great. Now they've switched excuses.

Hermione burst into loud laughter, after much suppression. It was, by far, the most beautiful sound Ron had ever heard and he wished for it to never stop.

This unfortunately, did not halt his maroon blush or the clearly embarrassed look on his face, which made her laugh even more. The second he took a glance at Harry and their eyes met they erupted into an uncontrollable fit of giggles, Harry doubling over and Ron throwing his head back. Drunk on laughter perhaps, Harry leaned over to the wireless and increased the volume, a slow yet rhythmic song filled the small tent.

"Let's have a ball yeah? Like last time?' Harry said, eyebrows wiggling suggestively on the last part, causing Ron to start laughing again, completely red faced.

Hermione struggled to breathe giggling as she looked on at them clearly trying to ballroom dance and failing miserably. The form was so bad no one was sure who was leading at this point, Ron's shoulders much too stiff and Harry's hands much too loose around Ron's waist. They were jumping around madly in the tent laughing harder than ever. Hermione managed to tease once more through gasping breaths,

"Should I leave before you start snogging or-"

"Oh shut up you!", Harry exclaimed, accompanied by a rude hand gesture and Ron simply stared at her and grinned.

'Come join us then', Ron said, holding out his hand for her.

She pretended to think for a moment before getting up, the thin blanket around her laid forgotten on the couch. They rotated for a couple moments, Hermione taking turns in being spun by Harry and Ron, all three of them a giggling mess, their threadbare socks squeaking on the wood floors.

Ron and Harry began a much too rough slow dance once more and Hermione was lightly swaying on her own before standing behind Ron, wrapping her arms around his stomach and tiptoeing her furthest, her nose barely reaching his shoulder. Effectively sandwiched between the pair of them, Ron was thrashing widely in attempts to throw them all off balance, cheeks impossibly red. The lump that was in his throat earlier had developed into free flowing tears and sniffles and he didn't care to stop them.

It didn't bother him because he knew he saw Harry's watering eyes and wobbly smile and felt Hermione's soft sobs through her giggles.

It was definitely the sugar or perhaps the sheer sadness of it all but for a moment they were still children who didn't have any worries or wars to fight on their own. Hermione nuzzled into Ron's back, still giggling, and placed a shy but firm kiss on his jumper-clad shoulder. He reached behind him for her hand and gently pulled her to the front, now spinning both Harry and Hermione, his heart glowing with joy. He tugged her towards him and gave a soft, chaste kiss to her hairline. Now both giggling, they seized Harry and planted two very hard kisses on his cheeks from behind, startling him enough to let out a disgusted squeak and he roared with laughter as he wiped his face on his jacket.

It was insanely messy but it was perfect. So perfect that Ron didn't care that in the morning he would have to second guess if Hermione was even close to forgiving him or that Harry would brood all day about the Hallows and be distant from them both, a war on their shoulders. He was with the two people he loved the most and for that he was thankful.

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dirtyoatmeall · 3 years

Text

All it takes is one moment (Atsumu x reader)

A/N: uhhh sorry for dropping off the face of the earth!! I have a million WIPs I’ll hopefully be posting here shortly! I was reading a bunch of cheesy hurt/comfort fics last night and decided to make my own hehe, tbh it got me thinking of doing another one but no comfort and it turning into a slow burn with another character :0 Please read the warnings, this is Post-Timeskip, so spoilers for occupations. Everyone is probably like 25ish here? Also I apologize in advance for their accents, I tried in a few spots, I’m still getting used to it. (also @spiritofthescarletwoods I know you wanted to be tagged in the midoriya angst I promised a million years ago, but here’s some tsumu angst for now!)

Genre: Hurt/comfort or Angst with a happy ending

Pairing: Miya Atsumu x reader (uhmm pronouns I believe are gn but I do not proof read as we all know)

Word Count: 4.?k

Warnings: Mentions of past abusive relationships, insinuation of cheating, slight misogynistic vibes for a moment, crude language, Atsumu is mean :( (Probably OOC Osamu and Atsumu), Post-time skip ((Let me know if I need to add something!)

You and Atsumu have been together for about 3 years now, and it was great. The two of you were very much in love, supported each other, and rarely fought, as you tried to be as open and communicate as much as possible. The last relationship you were in was toxic and abusive, it took a long time for you to be yourself again, and Atsumu had supported you along the way, he knew what had happened, and he swore to never make you feel like that again. And he stuck by that, until today.

Even though you rarely fought, when you did, it was resolved quickly, but this time was not the same. It had started off small. You had an important event coming up for work, you would be presenting on your year long research project, having made big findings in your field work. It was a huge deal for you, but when you brought it up at dinner, Atsumu did not have the same opinion.

“What do you mean you can’t make it? Everything I’ve been working on had led up to this, this is a career changing presentation, and you don’t want to go?” Hurt was clearly evident in your voice, as was frustration. Atsumu sighed, he’d had a horrible week, there was a big game coming up with the Adler’s and he needed to be prepared. “Like I said, I have practice that night, You can tell me all about it when you get home. I don’t see why you’re making a big fuss ‘bout it, ‘s just a presentation babe.” You furrowed your eyebrows looking at him incredulously.

“Did you not listen to anything I just said? It’s not just a presentation, this is my career Atsumu. I consistently put my own work aside to support you, why can’t you do the same for me? It’s not like I’m asking you to miss a game, it’s a practice.” You could tell he was getting frustrated, but so were you, you made it a point to make every single game of his, missing out on work opportunities to come support him, him refusing to come to something so important was hurtful, and made you feel like you were less important than him, but before you could voice your feelings Atsumu spoke.

“This isn’t jus’ any practice. We have a big game comin’ up, it's important I’m there, ‘m the setter. Let's be real here, we both know which of us is the bread-maker in this household. This is basically a little hobby of yours, you can come back to it at any time. I’m a professional athlete hun, there’s only so much time I have before retirement.” He spoke in a condescending manner that baffled you. He’s never spoken to you like that before, is that how he really felt about your work? You scoffed, rising from the dinner table.

“Are you fucking kidding me, do you know condescending and frankly, misogynistic that was?” He sighed and rolled his eyes as he followed you with his plate, dinner half eaten and cold much like yours. “Here you go again” He muttered, though loud enough for you to hear. You dropped your plate in the sink and you looked at him, eyes wide, and furious.

“What did you just say to me? Here I go again? What the fuck does that mean Atsumu?” He set his plate on the counter, looking at you from across the island as he gripped the countertop. “What I mean is that yer always playing the victim, we get it, you last relationship was shitty, but that doesn’t mean you have to act like this all the time, I thought you got over it?”

You balked at him, was he serious right now? “Oh my god really? Are you seriously asking me if I got over an abusive relationship, after everything I’ve told you about it? After everything I had to do to get where I am now? We are supposed to support each other, I didn’t realize it was one sided.” Atsumu sighed, growing more frustrated, he tried to interrupt you, but you kept going,

“All I wanted was for you to come to one dinner, after the years we’ve been together I haven’t asked you to miss any games or practices for my work, you know my coworkers have asked if I’m single? They didn’t believe me when I told them I was in a relationship, and you know what? I don’t blame them, I wouldn’t believe me either, since they’ve never seen you, and I take all this time off to travel and support you, all of your team know who I am, why is it so hard for you to do the same?”

As you kept going, his anger only grew, he tried interrupting you again, but it was like you weren’t paying attention to him, just spouting off whatever came to your head, and he was tired of it.

He slammed his hand on the counter, the sound reverberating throughout the apartment. You flinched, hard, but Atsumu didn’t seem to notice. “Can you just shut up for one moment? God, all you do is go on and on nagging on how what I do isn’t enough, I pay the bills here, why isn’t that enough for you? I could care less about what’s going on at your job, I have absolutely no interest in it at all, when will you get that through your fucking skull? I. don’t. care.” By the time he was done his knuckles were white from how hard he was gripping the counter, and you had tears in your eyes. You sucked in a breath, steeling yourself.

“Ok, I’m going to remove myself from the situation, I’ll be at your brothers, you can come get me when you pull your head out of your ass.” He rolled his eyes as you strode past him, getting your purse from the hook and going to slip on your shoes. “Yeah go ahead, you gonna wet his dick for ‘im too? ‘m sure he’ll love that.” You stiffened for a moment, putting your shoes on before looking at him, tears making your vision blurry.

“Y’know I tell myself that this isn’t like last time, that you’re not him, but at times like this-“ Your voice cracked as a sob bubbled into your throat and you shook your head, turning and heading out the door. Atsumu flinched at your words and the soft click of the door latching, he would’ve preferred to hear it slam.

Your walk to the elevator was blurry but you knew the way by heart after living there for so long. You wiped at your eyes as you pulled out your phone, tapping on the contact before bringing the phone to your ear. It rang once before it picked up, a tired “hello?” coming from the other end. You let out a quiet sob as you loaded the elevator, trying to get the words to come out. Upon hearing you, Osamu spoke again, “(Y/N)? Are you crying? What’s wrong.” You cleared your throat and took a deep breath before speaking, your voice tight. “Hey ‘samu, can, can I come to your place? ‘tsumu and I- we-'' you broke out into another sob, and you could hear Osamu close a door.

“Where are you? I’ll pick you up, I’m just leaving the restaurant I’m close.” After telling him where you were, you stayed on the phone, walking in the direction of the restaurant. Not long you see Osamu’s car pull up, he quickly gets out and looks you over and sighed as he brings you in for a hug. You sob into his jacket for a moment while he rubbed your back gently. He knew about your past as well, and figured it must have been bad for you to leave in tears. He leads you to the car and makes sure you’re strapped in before heading to the drivers side and getting in, double checking your seatbelt before driving towards his apartment.

The drive was short, though to you it felt like it lasted hours. You tried to quiet your sobs, not wanting to bother him. He looked over at you every so often, worry evident in his gaze as he tried to figure out just what his stupid brother did.

After arriving at his apartment, he sat you down on the couch, wrapping a blanket around you and giving you a box of tissues before sitting next to you, gently asking what happened. You try not to cry as you retell the events of the evening, though it got harder and harder as you told him what Atsumu said to you. By the time you were finished you were crying again, and Osamu was furious.

“I-I just don’t understand ‘samu, the things he said, did he really m-mean them? And-and when he slammed his hand on the counter, the look on his face, it, it was like I was back there all over again, like I never left. I-I know he’d never hurt me,” You sobbed out, throat getting tighter as you go on, “But at that moment, all I could think was that he was gonna hit me, and I, I had to leave, and what he said before I left,” You hiccupped and cried into your hands, not able to finish.

Osamu rubbed your back as you cried before getting up to make some tea. While the water was boiling he went into the other room, trying to calm himself down before calling his brother. The line rang three times before it was picked up, a frustrated “what do you want?” coming from the other end. It was enough to dwindle Osamu’s patience into nothing. He tried to keep his voice down, not wanting to distress you further.

“What do I want? Do you know how badly you fucked up? (Y/N) is here crying on my couch right now, do you know what she told me ‘tsumu? She told me she thought you were going to hit her. Are you fucking kidding me? Did you even think before you spoke, because from what she told me, it sounds like you didn’t. How dumb are you, after everything she’s gone through, the first big fight you have you send her running? Over a dinner? Really Atsumu?”

Atsumu groaned on the other line, “Exactly ‘samu, it’s a dinner, I have practice for the game against the Adler’s you know how big that is. She’ll have plenty of dinners for me to go to in the future. I don’t see why she got so upset over it. And she knows I didn’t mean the things I said, I was just frustrated.”

Osamu scoffed into the phone, “Did you even hear what I said, are you hearing yourself? She is the best thing that has happened to you, the least you could do is support her, this is a big deal for her Atsumu, even I know that. Honestly I don’t know why she is still with you after the shit you just pulled, did you hear me? She was scared of you, y’know like that last relationship she had? Where she was sent to the hospital multiple times, she thought she was right back there, that you were just like him. Do you know how bad you have to fuck up for that to happen, after all the counseling she’s done? You know how much trust you just broke? I wouldn’t be surprised if she never wanted to hear from you again, and I’d agree with her. God I have half a mind to tell Ma what you did, You need to sit and stew on what you just lost. And I mean it, I don’t want to see you here tonight, she needs a safe space right now. I’ll let her stay for as long as she wants, but I’m not gonna stop her if she leaves so you better get your fucking head on straight and get on your knees begging for forgiveness you don’t deserve.”

With that Osamu hung up the phone, exhaling as he pinched the bridge of his nose, was his brother really that stupid? He shook his head and headed out of his room, only to open the door to see you standing there, eyes holding an emotion he couldn’t quite place. “Is he coming?” Osamu sighed and led you back to the couch before finishing the tea he forgot about. He placed your cup on the end table next to you and took a seat with his own. “No, I told him to stay at your guy’s tonight. You need a safe space right now to calm down and sort your thoughts. You can stay here as long as you’d like, but I don’t want you to feel trapped, you can leave whenever, if you want to go to your folk’s, hell even our Ma’s place, I’ll drive you there. You just need to focus on you right now ya hear me? And if you don’t ever wanna see my ugly brother again, I’ll help you get a new identity.” You giggled slightly at the last part before you took a sip of your tea, shoulders relaxing. You turned to Osamu and smiled.

“Thank you ‘samu, I really appreciate it. I’m a little more calm right now, I think I’ll go home tomorrow, apologize and get us back on track.” You did a little nod as you said it, but Osamu just furrowed his eyebrows. “Apologize? There is nothing you need to apologize for doll, You were completely justified in your frustration, Atsumu is the one who needs to apologize, not you. Don’t settle just so things will go back to normal, because they won’t.” You sighed sadly, he was right and you knew it. You were falling back to old coping tactics. Your therapist would not be happy with you right now.

“Sorry, you’re right. I’m still gonna go back, hopefully after we’ve both had some sleep we can work it out.” You smiled again, feeling more like yourself. Osamu nodded in agreement and helped you set up in the guest bedroom before turning in. You sighed as you laid in the bed, not used to sleeping by yourself, but the events from the night took its toll, and it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

Back in your apartment, Atsumu was having the opposite problem. He laid in your shared bed, staring at the ceiling, did you actually think he was going to hit you, that he meant the things he said? To him, it didn’t seem like a big deal, he was loud when he was angry, and sometimes said things he didn’t mean, which should be obvious, since you knew how much he loved you…right? He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, looking up the museum you worked at. Honestly he wasn’t really paying attention when you told him about the event, he knew it had something to do with your research, which he knew a little about from the nights you’d info dump your findings to him. His eyes widened when he looked at the upcoming events, when he clicked on the date it was scheduled for he winced.

It really was a big deal, curators from all over the country were coming to hear you give a presentation on your recent fieldwork findings, you’d been at this site for the majority, if not all, of your relationship only now having a big discovery others spent their entire lives chasing. There were going to be donors, curators, archaeologists and other anthropologists from all over Japan and other countries as well. You were right, this was a career changer, no, this was a life changing presentation.

Guilt started to seep into his bones as he thought again about what he had said, how he had brushed you off and then got mad at you for voicing your feelings, something that took months for you to be able to do with him. He thought back to when he slammed his hand on the table, the way you flinched, the look in your eyes right before you left. His stomach felt like it dropped out of his body, chest constricting as the guilt flooded him as he kept thinking back to every expression you made, how you were crying when you left, that you were scared of him. He pushed his palms against his eyes as he groaned, how could he be so horrible to you? Osamu was right, about everything. You were the best thing that’s happened to him, and he broke your trust, trust that took so long to build, over missing a practice. He rolled onto his side, pulling one of your pillows against his chest. He inhaled, the scent of your conditioner still lingering, as he tried to think of how he could possibly make it right.

```

The next morning, after a relaxing shower and breakfast, you were ready. Osamu grabbed his keys, ready to drive you back, when there was a knock at the door. You had a feeling on who it was, so you set down your purse and went to sit on the couch, taking a deep breath. After a few moments Osamu came to the doorway, followed by Atsumu, who stood awkwardly for a moment before Osamu spoke to you.

“I need to be at the restaurant, there’s a key on the counter, if you could lock up if you leave that’d be great. Call me if you need anything.” He turned and left, and when you heard the door close you finally met Atsumu’s gaze, smiling slightly in greeting. Neither of you were sure what to say, but after a minute of silence he comes over and sits on the other end of the couch, obviously trying to gauge your reaction to his proximity.

You sighed through your nose, gaze turned to the floor as you fiddled with your hands, trying to sort out your thoughts. You wanted to just apologize and move on, but you knew you had to talk it out, this wasn’t something you could just pretend didn’t happen. You needed to work through this if you wanted this to work. You bit your lip, thoughts running a mile a minute. You were so deep in thought you didn’t realize Atsumu had moved until you felt his hand rest on your forearm. You jumped slightly, startled at the sudden touch and when you looked at Atsumu, who had moved to the place next to you and hovered his hand over you before bringing it back to his lap, guilt evident in his features, eyes raw with emotion.

“(Y/N), I don’t even know where to begin, I fucked everything up and I am so sorry. Sorry for not listening, for brushing you and your achievements off, for making you feel lesser and unimportant, for scaring you, please, you have to know, I would never lay a hand on you, I never meant a single thing I said last night, I was frustrated and let the week get to me, which is no excuse for the way I treated you. I broke your trust, and I’ll spend forever and a month trying to earn it back. You are without a doubt the best thing that has happened to me, and the way I treated you after everything that’s happened, it- it makes me sick. I love you so much, and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you. But I understand if you don’t want to see me anymore, I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want, I-I just- I need you to know that I love you, and that I never meant it, I’d never mean it.” His voice cracked at the end, and he wiped his eyes before looking up to meet your gaze. You were crying, biting your lip to keep it in but failing as you took a shuddering breath that turned into a half-sob. His heart broke even more seeing you like this, and he reached out to comfort you before stopping, hand curling back into his chest.

“Can, Can I touch you?” He asked shakily, scared of the answer, shoulders slumping with relief when you nodded and he quickly gathered you into his arms, pulling you into his lap and holding you tight, like if he let you go you’d disappear. You were crying louder now, hands fisted into his sweatshirt. He nuzzled his face into your hair, quietly apologizing over and over, tears starting to fall from his eyes as well, kissing the side of your head.

The two of you stayed like that for what seemed like hours, though in reality it was about 10 minutes. Your sobs had died down, you were just sniffing occasionally, and Atsumu’s eyes had cleared, no longer obstructed by the water wall of tears. He pulled you away from his chest slightly, cupping your cheeks, wiping at the tear tracks staining your face.

“’M sorry, ‘m so sorry. I’ll say it for the rest of my life darlin’, I love you so much and I am so proud of everything you do. I hope that one day you can forgive me, but I understand if you can’t, if you won’t. You mean th’ world t’ me angel, I want nothing more than for you to be happy, for you to feel safe and loved. I promise I will support you better from now on, no matter what. I’ll make good on my promises from all those years ago, I swear.” You nodded at his words, hands coming up to cup his own before one of his moved to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss, stopping right before your lips met, breath mixing as he looked at you for signs of hesitance, of fear.

“Is this okay?” Instead of verbally confirming you closed the short distance, hands gripping his shoulders as your lips moved against his slowly, taking time to enjoy each other. He pulled away after a few moments before kissing your forehead, hugging you tightly once again. “Let’s go home.” You said quietly into his shirt, squeezing his shoulders before standing on shaky legs. He nodded, getting up after you, lacing your fingers together.

Weeks later~~

You smiled nervously at Atsumu as you rose out of your chair, giving him a quick kiss before heading to the stage. You squinted briefly at the bright lights, exhaling and smoothing out your clothes before smiling at the audience as you introduced yourself. You tried to keep your gaze evenly over the crowd, but your eyes kept finding themselves locked with Atsumu, who grinned brightly and gave a thumbs up whenever you did. Your smile grew, nerves slowly dissipating as you lost yourself in your presentation.

Afterwards you answered a few questions from the crowd, thanking them again before heading back to your table. You shook hands with the host as they walked past to continue to the next topic and thanked your tablemates who congratulated you. You snorted at Tsukishima, who said it was a little boring, like he didn’t have a page of notes from the presentation in front of him.

You turned to your boyfriend, smiling as you laced your fingers together. “Wow babe that was amazing! I don’t know what half those words meant but you did great, I’m so proud of you.” You flushed at his praise, squeezing his hand while you kissed his cheek before turning back to the host, who was announcing the next speaker. You don’t know what would’ve happened if you didn’t work things out, and frankly you don’t want to think about it, the two of you are slowly building this back to where they were, but this time your relationship is stronger. You’re happier than you’ve ever been, and that’s what matters.

#My writing #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #atsumu x you #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x you #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x y/n #atsumu miya #atsumu x reader #haikyuu imagines

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fenristheorem · 3 years

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New Era Lance Headcanons

I told myself I wouldn’t do this before episode 4 came out... but here I am.

I originally wanted to wait until ANE episode 4 was out to post any of my own headcanons for Lance, but I know they had a fire at one of their locations recently and that has delayed the release of the episode (my heart goes out to them), so I figured I should just go ahead and post some headcanons because I’ve been dying to do so.

~Headcanons under the cut because these are long~

General:

Twice a year, on their birthday and the anniversary of his death, Lance brings Floppy (because I theorize he adopted Floppy) to visit Valkyon’s grave. Really, this can happen at nearly any time of the year - but seeing as Lance is busy as Chief of Obsidian Guard, he can’t always make time to visit his brother’s grave. However, Lance always makes sure to find time to visit the grave with Floppy on these two special dates. He'll even specifically ask Huang Hua to try and make sure his schedule isn't too busy on these two days. He never says why, but it's not hard to guess.

Lance occasionally talks out loud... to his brother... distantly hoping that - despite the fact that he’s dead - Valk will somehow hear him and by some miracle respond to his brother. He doesn’t do this very often, only when he finds himself caught in a low moment where he feels truly isolated from everyone and the ache to have his brother by his side again echos through him like thunder through a mountain valley, but when he does it means he really needs the comfort. No one in the guard knows this about him; he makes sure that he never does this in public or where anyone could find him doing this. Valkyon’s death effected nearly everyone in the guard, but Lance was still his brother and doesn’t believe most people would understand the full extent of his regrets and, further more, his ways of coping with this great loss.

Lance never visited the re-formed crystal created by Leiftan and Erika. Not once - in all 7 years. He never felt he had the right to because this situation and all his pain was primarily caused by him and, therefore, he needs to bear the pain as part of taking responsibility for his actions. The crystal room became a symbol of hope and forging forward into a new era, and while Lance is grateful for being given a chance to redeem, he's aware that he has a long way to go before he has made up for everything he's done, if he ever could. He feels he needs to find his own hope from within and help guide the guard with it, not rely on the guard and the new crystal to provide him with hope for the future.

Romantic:

Lance is very used to being alone by now. Because of this, he keeps his romantic partner at a distance when they first start off. It’s not that he’s not interested - it’s just that he’s settling into the idea that someone actually wants to be closer to him after everything he’s done, especially the woman he threw off a cliff. He’s not entirely sure how to react to a woman finding romantic interest in him, hell he’s not even sure he deserves it. It's been years since he's allowed himself to consider romantic companionship, so he's widely used to being his own rock. However, once they’ve been together for a while, he’ll trust himself (and her) a bit more and actually allow himself to be a bit more comfortable and minorly impulsive around her. Slowly he’ll allow himself to throw a few jokes around, he’ll allow himself to share his opinion on things around her more, and he’ll find it a little easier to smile each day. Now he’s not one to hide his emotions, but he certainly keeps himself in check to avoid causing damage or pain as he's painfully aware that heavy emotions can influence people. However, this disappears when he begins to trust his partner more; he's less hesitant and more confident that she won't shun him for having strong emotions and opinions on certain things.

Once they’ve been together for a while and his romantic partner has effectively torn down the walls of isolation he built around himself, she’ll find he’s... a bit territorial. After all, he’s allowing himself to become attached to someone for the first time in years; why wouldn’t he be attentive and watchful with his newfound companion? He’s not openly aggressive towards others when jealous or feeling territorial (in the rare case that he is, as he’s learned later on in the relationship that he has nothing to be insecure about), he refuses to bring that sort of disruption to the guard, but he’s certainly not above throwing Guardienne over his shoulder (without his armor on, of course) when he’s reminded of a moment earlier in the day where another man seemed to be just a bit too interested in what she was saying. Pair that with a kind, naive smile from her and a few jokes, and perhaps an encounter with a Leiftan at some point, and you have the perfect combination for a semi-jealous ice dragon who suddenly craves attention from his lover. He’ll take her over his shoulder and saunter over to the nearby bed in who-ever’s room they’re in, lay her gently down and rest himself beside her, wrapping both arms around her and pulling her close to his chest as they settle in to stay like that for minutes to hours depending on how long they have together. She better not hope to leave anytime soon then. Unless they have somewhere to be, Lance is unlikely to let her go for any reasons; he wants her attention and he's going to get it.

Lance is an ice dragon. This is well known by now and he's proud of his heritage. However, with this also comes all the responsibility of being an ice dragon; specifically the instincts. This is also something his partner needs to learn to deal with if they hope to maintain a relationship with him, because he's certainly not about to rebuke himself for having natural instincts (unless it truly begins to become a problem or he accidentally hurts someone). These instincts can range from being very territorial and possessive at certain times and situations, to keeping a special watch on her to make sure she isn't hurt at times where she could be prone to it, or treating her like a living goddess merely because the mood strikes him and he wants to show appreciation for her presence. These are only a few examples. When do these instincts hit hardest? He's still trying to figure that out, seeing that he hasn't been with anyone for a while. However, they can effect him in different degrees. Some days he'll hold her for an extra five minutes longer before she leaves to hang out with Mathieu, Koori and Karenn, other days he'll request that Huang Hua allow him to escort her on a minor mission in the forests surrounding HQ because he wants to do everything he can to protect her and give them time alone together. If they're interrupted on their mission by someone else, Lance will be deathly quiet and still as his partner and the newcomer carry on their conversation, only speaking when spoken too, and he won't be mean, but internally he'll be quite irritated at the fact that their alone-time is being interrupted when he planned for them to be alone for a while. Ideally, his partner will pick up on his distance and wrap up the conversation, and once the newcomer leaves Lance won't hesitate to take his partner by the wrist (gently) and briskly drag her away from the direction of her conversational partner. When he feels they're far away enough, he'll abruptly turn around and press her against a tree, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her neck with a faint growl. The best thing his partner can do in this time is hold him. He doesn't need comfort or reassurance, he just needs time alone with her. However, that's one of the extremes of his instincts. Most of the time he acts on subtle instincts. He'll pull her into a secluded corner of the guard for a few minutes to talk privately and share a few kisses, or he'll be passing by and see something in the market that she said she needed, or perhaps he sees something he thinks she'll look good with or he knows she'll like, and then track her down after purchasing to gift his find to her. At the end of the day, he just wants her to know he appreciates her, and when the sudden urge to do something with or for her strikes he has a hard time letting it go. And while Lance is very independent and doesn't wish to oppress or suffocate his partner, his instincts can become a bit overbearing at certain times. All his partner needs to do is confide in him about this and he'll try and make them a bit more comfortable (after all, his instincts tell him to care for her before anything else) but she will need to try and tolerate this as much as possible, if it's even an issue to begin with. However, Lance is quite confident that she'll enjoy the intimate side of his instincts more often than the domestic instincts, no matter how she feels about the domestic side...

I’m considering making Lance headcanons a routine post on my page - maybe one or two posts every couple of days. I have a few more headcanons that I can post, and I’m sure I’ll have more after ep. 4 is out, but I’m always open to writing specific headcanons upon request.

Have a request? Ask them here!

But first, please read the rules list for asks!

#eldarya #Eldarya ANE #eldarya lance #Eldarya Lance ane #fenristheorem writing #eldarya lance headcanons

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kissinginkitchens · 3 years

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You Bring Me Home—Chapter Four: You Can Hear it in the Silence

a/n: hello again!! So glad to have you back :) I hope you're all enjoying the story so far. It's been wonderful to read some of your comments and thoughts! I do have to give a special shoutout to @harrysblackcoat and @determined-overthinker for their continued support and feedback, it really means the world to me, so a huge thank you to you both!! I am tremendously grateful for all of you lovely readers and I hope you will enjoy chapter four as much as I enjoyed writing it! As always, my inbox is open, so feel free to drop by and chat with me after reading! Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai'i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: swearing, allusions to sexual content

Word Count: 6.7k

read parts one, two, and three

“You kissed him?” Maleah gasps over FaceTime, her mouth so wide, Alani fears her jaw will detach from its socket.

She had finally decided to tell her best friend everything, excluding the Rolling Stone details, nearly two days after the last time she had seen Harry. The entire next day had been spent replaying every moment and listening to the recorded interview on her voice notes until the phone battery was completely drained. Alani’s stomach fluttered at the sound of Harry’s voice and it only made her miss him more. The part that she desperately needed her friend’s input on was what had happened immediately before she left.

“No,” Alani clarifies, quickly. “Well, almost. Maybe—I think,”

“I’ve only been gone a couple of weeks,” Maleah starts, brows furrowed as if her brain is malfunctioning. “And you’re already swooping in on my man?”

Alani feels her cheeks warm but she pushes past it and rolls her eyes. “There is no swooping going on,”

“I don’t know. You two were caught in the rain together, sounds like swooping to me,”

“But that’s the thing,” Alani huffs. “I don’t know what it is. And I don’t know if I’m just making a big deal out of nothing,”

Maleah nods understandingly and pushes any jealousy out of her mind, the love for her best friend winning out.

“Well, tell me exactly what happened before the kiss,”

“There was no kiss,” Alani emphasizes, thinking back to the last few minutes spent in Harry’s car.

The sun had already set when the two of them arrived at her house, leaving little light in the already darkly tinted Range Rover. But even in the darkness, Alani could see the intensity in Harry’s eyes. Their bodies had been close enough in the confined space that she could feel the warmth radiating from him, and his vanilla scent enveloped her in an intoxicating haze. For a moment, her eyes had darted to his plush lips and she imagined what it would feel like to close the space between them. She could have sworn that he had done the same, finding his eyes wandering just below the tip of her nose when she looked up. Before anything could happen, however, she found herself reaching for the door handle and stepping into the crisp night sky.

“But did you want him to kiss you?” Maleah questions.

Alani waits a beat, but she doesn’t have to think about the answer. “Yes,”

“Well there you go!” her friend responds enthusiastically. “Problem solved,”

“Problem not solved,” Alani corrects. “What about the fact that he’s, like, famous? I mean what happens when he has to go back to L.A. or London or whatever?”

“Woah, woah, woah, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,”

Alani anxiously nibbles on the skin of her lower lip, not stopping even when she tastes blood. “But it’s true—”

“Yeah, well, you don’t have to think about it right now,” Maleah assures her. “What if you just let things happen and… enjoy it for what it is?”

Alani doesn’t miss the double meaning in the last part. “Mi, you and I both know that I’ve never been one to just enjoy it for what it is,”

“I know this, and I love you,” Maleah starts slowly. “But as your best friend—and I say this with nothing but love—you need to get laid, for real,”

Alani groans, slumping further into her mattress. “But what if that’s all he wants? I just don’t think I’m ready for that,”

“And that’s perfectly fine,” her friend coos. “But from what you’ve told me so far, it doesn’t sound like that’s all he’s after,”

Alani considers this for a moment before Maleah continues.

“Look, let’s start with something simple: do you like him? I mean, do you like spending time with him and just generally being around him?”

“Yes,”

“Then start there,” Maleah suggests. “You can enjoy someone’s company without making it romantic, it’s just friendship. Don’t put pressure on something that you’re not ready for, or something that might not even be there,”

Alani feels a small weight lifted off her shoulders and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, no you’re right I shouldn’t psych myself out over something that didn’t even happen. I mean, for all I know he has a girlfriend,”

She waits a beat before a new concern enters her mind. “Wait, does he have a girlfriend?”

“I don’t know,”

“Well even if he does, it doesn’t matter,” Alani reaffirms. “Because we’re just friends,”

“When are you gonna see him again?” her friend asks.

Alani stomach drops. In all her concentration of the past, she hadn’t even considered what will happen when she has to face him again. “I don’t know,”

“Who initiated the last hang out?”

“He did,” Alani admits, thinking back to the hours he had spent reading in the café until her shift was over.

Maleah hums. “Well then it looks like the ball’s in your court,”

Alani is quiet for a moment, which her friend takes as her cue to offer some more reassurance.

“I’m sorry I don’t have more answers for you, Nani, but it’s gonna be okay. Promise, ”

Alani sighs, kneeling to look out the window next to her bed.

“No, Mi, it’s okay. I really appreciate you just being there, it means a lot,”

“Of course, babes. Keep me updated.”

“Will do.”

The call ends and Alani continues watching the palm trees sway in the wind. Will do—the very same last words that she had spoken to Harry that night. Her mind wanders back to the moment right before she had opened the door to escape and plays out an alternative scenario. What would have happened if she had leaned just an inch closer?

********

Harry pinches his lower lip between his index finger and thumb. Will do, he repeats in his mind— two words that he never knew could carry so much weight.

“I said ‘I think Manchester United is shit,’” Nick Grimshaw says loudly, shrugging at Mitch and Jeff Bhasker when his plan doesn’t work. “I dunno, that should’ve gotten him,”

“Oh hey, Alani,” Mitch speaks into his phone loud enough for Harry to hear. This piques the singer’s attention immediately, his heart racing. “Yeah he’s right here,”

“What the fuck?” Harry questions, zeroing in on Mitch.

“Who’s Alani?” Nick teases with eyebrows raised into his hairline.

Harry springs from his seat and corners Mitch, who holds his phone above his head. “Gimme the phone!”

“Hello,” Nick interrupts, watching the struggle continue. “Feeling neglected here, who’s Alani?”

The guitarist ducks and sprints to the opposite wall, Harry chasing close behind. They hop from couch to couch and swerve around fragile equipment while Mitch snickers and guards his phone close. Harry had no idea why Alani was calling and why she hadn’t reached out to him directly, but he’s dying to hear her voice again and is growing increasingly frustrated with his friend’s antics.

“Mitchell, stop fuckin’ around!”

“I’m sorry,” he relents, holding out the phone with an amused laugh. “It wasn’t her, wrong number,”

Harry huffs and returns to his seat disappointedly, a guitar resting in his lap. Nick, who had only been able to drop in for the weekend due to his busy schedule at the BBC, narrows his eyes at both boys before speaking up again.

“Once again, no one has answered my question.”

“She’s just a girl he’s been hanging out with,” Jeff explains nonchalantly. “He wants to have her babies.”

“Don’t,” Harry warns.

Despite already having his fun, Mitch can’t resist adding on. “It’s none of our business… but I’ve heard a summer wedding is in the works.”

“I’m gonna go drink now,” Harry announces, standing. “And none of you fuckers are invited.”

He wanders down the hallway and into the kitchen, immediately reaching for the tequila. Is it too early for margaritas? he wonders before deciding that he wants a second opinion. No new texts are displayed on his phone screen, much to his disappointment, but he decides to open the messages app anyway. He carefully types in Alani’s name and writes, then re-writes, the text several times before pressing send. As soon as the tag reads “delivered”, his body is filled with apprehension, but there’s no turning back.

Harry: Is 10 a.m. too early for margaritas?

There’s a minute of silence, then two, and Harry turns his phone face down onto the counter to reach for the ingredients. It dings just as he opens the bottle of tequila and he immediately lunges for it.

Alani: Never. Morning margs were invented for a reason.

Relief. He quickly types out a risky response.

Harry: Any chance I can convince you to join me?

He stares at the screen, willing the “delivered” to turn into a “read,” but it doesn’t budge. His lips ghost over the rim of the tequila bottle before he bites the bullet and takes a sip.

Alani: Working :( sorry. Another time maybe.

Defeat. He knows that “another time maybe” is a polite “never.” Another swig of tequila down the hatch.

Harry: Yeah, no worries.

Alani sets her phone down on her nightstand and brings the duvet up to her chin. She hopes with every muscle in her body that Harry doesn’t show up to the restaurant, though if he’s planning on drinking, perhaps she’s safe. Maybe I should do the same. She wonders, thinking about the rosé her mom keeps in the cupboard for special occasions. Surely heartache must be a good enough reason to crack it open. Regardless, Alani doesn’t think she has the stomach to keep it down at the present.

********

Harry pushes the remaining peas around on his plate with the prongs of his fork. His chin rests in the heel of his hand.

“And then I said ‘what’s the difference?’” his manager remarks, sending the rest of the group into a fit of wild laughter.

“You’re so fucking stupid.” Mitch comments through a chuckle.

The laughter slowly dies down and their eyes all wander to Harry who hasn’t budged for the past twenty-five minutes. They exchange worried glances, and Jeff begins to wonder if his initial advice for Harry to go out with Alani was a mistake.

“Hey, H,” he begins gently. “You feelin’ alright?”

Harry looks up from his plate and musters his best fake smile. “Yeah, jus’ tired,”

It was partially true; the crew had spent their entire afternoon at Honoli’i Beach practicing their surfing, though it was mostly unsuccessful for Harry—his life seemed to be a series of wipe-outs these days.

“I’m gonna go watch a Rom-Com in my room,” he announces, standing with his plate. “Probably doze off.”

The group exchanges “good nights” before Harry saunters down the hall to his room. Settling into the bed, he flicks through the movie selection and clicks on one that he knows by heart. He contemplates texting Alani again, scrolling through their brief conversation from three days ago. Against his better judgment, he types out another message and presses send.

Harry: Opinion on The Notebook?

He waits, attention briefly occupied by Rachel McAdams until the phone dings.

Alani: A classic, though not as good as Dirty Dancing if I’m being honest.

The corners of his mouth curl and he immediately types out another response.

Harry: You have a problem with The Goss?

Alani snorts, planting her spoon into the pint of strawberry ice cream to reply.

Alani: First, I have many gripes about you referring to Ryan Gosling as “The Goss”. Second, I was actually rooting for Lon Hammond, but maybe that’s just because I’m partial to James Marsden. And third, the scene where Baby and Johnny are dancing alone in his room. That’s all I have to say.

Harry hums, hanging on every word.

Harry: Confession: I’ve never actually seen Dirty Dancing…

Alani: We need to change that immediately.

His heart pounds. So she didn’t plan on ghosting him forever.

Harry: So Lon Hammond, that’s your type?

Alani doesn’t know why she finds it unsettling that Harry steers the conversation away from any possible talk of them hanging out again. She reminds herself that she had been the one to decline his invitation for margaritas and shovels another scoop of ice cream into her mouth.

Alani: Kind, supportive, successful, handsome? Yeah, I’d say so. Not to mention he forgave Allie for cheating.

Harry: But Noah built her a house. Her dream house, I might add.

Alani: I’m not discrediting Noah, I love a grand romantic gesture as much as the next person. Just think Lon deserved better.

Harry grins, entirely ignoring the movie at this point. Grand romantic gestures, he notes, good to know.

Harry: And what about the fact that Noah wrote it all down and reads their literal love story to her every time she forgets?

Alani: Maybe he deserves some rights for that.

Alani taps the spoon against her lower lip and thinks about Cecily’s words. Just let things happen. She desperately wants to, but she doesn’t know how. The thought of getting too close only to let it all slip through her fingers is too overwhelming, so she starts with something simple: do you like spending time with him? Alani doesn’t think she could enjoy anything more. Her mind wanders back to the passenger seat of Harry’s car and the image of his wrist draped over the steering wheel, lower lip captured between his fingers. She had noted this tick early on and found it endlessly endearing. Save for the awkward fifteen minutes of their very first interview, their conversations all seemed to come so easily. Alani enjoys his quick wit and the way he speaks slowly, as if carefully weighing each word. She likes that even though the entire reason for their relationship is for her to learn all that she possibly can about him, he makes an equal effort to get to know her. Alani compares Harry’s sincere reaction to hearing that she was a journalist to David’s snarky remark. Harry had believed in her from the get-go—he had trusted her. He makes her feel seen and known. Isn’t that what it means to be loved? To be known? His words echo in her mind.

Harry: How’s the article going?

Alani’s stomach drops. Fuck. In all her contemplation over the almost kiss, she had forgotten the truth behind her motives. She had lied. Harry had trusted her, and she had lied. Not yet, she thinks, I haven’t lied yet. It would only be a lie if she submits the article to Rolling Stone. Her throat tightens. But I’m so close. She thinks about telling him, but quickly shuts the thought down when she considers that she still doesn’t have enough material and can’t afford to risk it now. This is her chance, there’s no doubt about it. Why else would the universe have planted a world famous rockstar right at her feet just when she had decided to give up for good? Alani had to at least try, she owed it to herself, and she reasons that if Harry really cares about her, he will understand. He would have to.

Alani: It’s going.

Harry: Can I get a sneak peek anytime soon?

Alani: Soon. Good night, Harry.

She sends the last text and sets her phone face down next to her. If she was going to do this, she had to do it right—even if it meant putting some space between the two of them. She owed that much to Harry.

He sinks further into the mattress, not understanding what he had said or done wrong, but he grants Alani her space, anyway.

Harry: Good night Alani.

********

“You’re listening to KWPX The Wave and that was the latest single from Ariana Grande,”

Alani stops fiddling with the radio and sits back with a defeated huff. She had been in a rut with her own music lately and after spending nearly fifteen minutes in her driveway shuffling through songs, she decided to turn on the radio and leave it up to fate.

“Next up is a song from everyone’s favorite ex-boyband: One Direction,”

Goddamnit, Alani groans. She had forgotten what a bitch fate could be.

“Now, I have to say, DeeDee,” the radio DJ starts. “I was personally heartbroken to hear the news, and I know my daughters were too,”

“Oh definitely,” DeeDee replies. “And I can’t help but wonder what this means for all of them. I mean, what do you think they’re up to these days?”

The first DJ gives a snide chuckle before he continues. “Probably doing what every twenty-something year old millionaire does: booze, cruise, and schmooze—the pretty girls, especially,”

Alani scoffs, rolling her eyes at his insinuation. She had begun to resent all of the gossip and speculation surrounding Harry’s whereabouts, especially after learning how much privacy meant to him. Moreover, she hated the twinge of jealousy that coursed through her veins at the thought of him with another girl. Alani supposes that it wasn’t entirely out of the question since they were far from romantically involved. While he had occupied her mind over the past few weeks, she knew that it was highly unlikely that he paid her the same attention. The thought still brings bile to her mouth.

“Well whatever they’re up to, one thing seems to be pretty clear,” DeeDee speaks up again. “All eyes will be on Harry Styles. I mean, he’s really the one to watch in all of this, isn’t he?”

“I think you’re right. I’m curious to see what he’s got in store. Maybe he’ll join Justin Timberlake and Nick Jonas with the ex-boyband buzz cut. But without further ado, here’s Drag Me Down.”

Alani knows that she’ll have to talk to Harry eventually; over the past week and a half, she had dodged every invitation to hang out, left cut and dry responses to all of his texts, and even ducked into the restaurant’s walk-in fridge when he unexpectedly showed up one afternoon. While the temptation to indulge his friendly advances was high, professional boundaries needed to be established. She had already begun working on the article with material from the two previous interviews—and it wasn’t half bad—but there was still so much of the story to fill in. If Alani was going to make it all worthwhile, she had to keep digging and do it fast; she couldn’t afford to let her personal feelings get in the way.

Her car sputters slightly as she heads south on Mamalahoa Highway and the radio fades in and out. Alani checks all of her gauges—she had made sure that the gas tank was full before leaving—and doesn’t see anything unusual. A few miles later, it jerks again before coming to a complete stop.

“Fuck,” she cries, pounding her palms against the steering wheel. “No, no, no, no, no!”

Alani waits a moment before turning the key again, but the engine refuses to start. She whips her phone out of the cupholder and scrolls through her contact list.

Pua—no license.

Maleah—out of town.

Dad—also out of town, catering a wedding in Oahu.

Mom—probably scrubbed in on a major, life-saving surgery.

She continues scrolling until her finger lands on a name that makes her heart race and sink at the same time.

Harry Styles—no.

There’s no way she can justify calling him, not after giving him the cold shoulder all week. If texting back and forth was unprofessional, then asking to be rescued off the side of the road surely crossed several boundaries. Alani scans her surroundings, shielding her eyes from the blinding afternoon sun. There isn’t a car or person in sight for miles—what other choice does she have? With shaking fingers, she dials the number and presses the phone to her ear. Harry answers after the third ring.

“Hello?” he responds loudly over the sound of cymbals crashing and laughter in the background.

“Hi,” Alani greets, raising her voice to be heard. “It’s Alani,”

She hears shuffling on the other end and then Harry’s voice, softer this time.

“Oh hey. How are you?”

“Good, how are you?”

Harry senses that something is off, but he’s glad to hear from Alani, nevertheless. His friends continue their antics in the studio, despite his silent gestures to knock it off, so he heads outside.

“Uh, yeah I’m fine. S’good to hear from you,” he offers shyly.

Alani’s chest tightens.

“Ditto,” she replies. “Hey listen, um, I’m kind of in a bit of trouble I—”

She hesitates. What the hell am I doing?

“I need your help,”

Harry’s heart sinks, immediately filled with worry.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she reassures him. “It’s my car,”

“Where are you?”

“The highway, southbound. Just past exit 243, I think,”

“I’m on my way,”

“Thank you,” Alani offers gently. “Really, thank you.”

A soft smile spreads across Harry’s lips. “Anytime.”

He arrives in a pink Cadillac fifteen minutes later, pulling over behind Alani. She doesn’t recognize the car and her confusion only deepens when a man with short-cropped hair emerges. As he approaches, a wave of recognition and relief washes over her.

“Harry?”

“Hey,” he greets, walking up to the driver’s side. “Need a lift?”

Alani’s mouth hangs open ever so slightly, scanning his new appearance. He looks like a completely different person than the one she remembers, and he has the faintest trace of stubble above his lip and jaw.

“You cut your hair,”

“I did,” he confirms.

“It’s so short,”

“Do you like it?”

“Of course I do,” Alani offers with a light laugh, feeling flustered under his gaze. “I mean it looks great, really suits you. Not that it matters what I think, it’s your hair,”

But it did matter. Everything she did, or didn’t do, said, and didn’t say— it all mattered to him for reasons he couldn’t quite explain. And it mattered more than she would ever know.

“So Stevie quit on you?”

Alani sighs. “I don’t know what’s wrong, honestly. All of the gauges look fine and I filled the tank this morning,”

Harry asks her to pop the hood and makes his way to the front of the Bronco. He looks around, not seeing any smoke or trace of other issues, though his knowledge of cars isn’t as comprehensive as he’d like in this situation.

Alani joins him, doing her own scan over the inside of the hood despite the fact that she has no idea what to look for. Her eyes wander to Harry’s strong hands as they prod the various bells and whistles, and she notices the way his tanned skin glistens under the sun. The cross pendant nestled behind his white t-shirt escapes when he leans over, swinging like a mesmerizing pendulum.

“I called a tow truck,” he says standing with his hands on his hips. “Should be here soon,”

“I’ll pay you back,” Alani offers quickly, her throat dry.

Harry waves her concern away with a hand and places the hood back. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you’re okay,”

“I really owe you one,” she says appreciatively.

He leans against the car with his arms crossed, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Have lunch with me and we’ll call it even.”

“Deal.”

The tow truck arrives ten minutes later and the driver gathers all of Alani’s information, letting her know which mechanic the car will be taken to and when she can pick it up. She sighs watching Stevie pull away down the road and imagines the dent it’ll make in her savings. Harry nudges her gently, motioning for her to get in his car.

“New ride?” she questions, running her fingers over the cotton candy paint.

“It belongs to the owner of the studio,” he explains. “All of the cars do except the Rover, she’s a rental. But Jeff took her out to get us lunch,”

“I’m so sorry for interrupting your plans,” Alani apologizes. And for kind of ghosting you, she thinks.

Harry shakes his head, shifting the gear between them. “Nah, you didn’t interrupt, we were just messing around. But I am curious to know what brought you all the way out here on a Tuesday afternoon. Skipping town?”

Alani giggles at the way he says “Tuesday,” but responds despite the curious look he flashes her. “Day off. I was gonna go to the beach,”

“Bummer,” Harry offers, thanking every deity that he can name. “We could still go,”

“Your friends won’t be mad?”

“They’ll be fine,”

Alani nods, her eyes studying the orange checkers on her trousers.

“What’re you hungry for?” Harry speaks up.

She thinks for a moment and is reminded of her original plans. “I could go for some sushi,”

“Know any good places?”

“Yeah, I’ll show you,” Alani’s curious gaze falls to the glove box before her, immediately wondering what’s inside. “Do you think the owner will be mad if I open this?”

Harry glances down at what she’s pointing to and shakes his head. “Knock yourself out,”

Alani pulls down the hatch and reaches inside; her fingers make contact with what feels like a pair of glasses. When her hand re-emerges with a pair that are pink and heart-shaped, she smiles.

“They have good taste,” she comments, putting them on.

Harry looks over and flashes a wide grin, the dimple that Alani has become so fond of emerging.

“Look good on you,”

“Try them on,” Alani suggests, handing them over.

He obliges and pushes his own pair up to make room for the other lenses.

“What d’you think?”

“I think you should keep them,” she says. “They suit you.”

And they really do; they compliment his face well and hint to the fun, easygoing parts of his personality that Alani has recently discovered.

She directs him to her favorite sushi spot near Bayfront Park, which is buzzing per usual. After they’ve been seated on the patio outside, Harry tucks the heart-shaped sunglasses into his t-shirt and contemplates addressing the elephant in the room: the ghosting. He doesn’t want to spook her, though, so he decides to pose the question lightly, but Alani speaks before he has the chance.

“So what’s with the haircut?”

Harry blinks, clearing his throat before he responds. “You hate it,”

“No!” She defends. “I like it, really, it looks great,”

“You wouldn’t bring it up if you didn’t absolutely hate it,” he teases in mock offense.

Alani rolls her eyes, a playful smile spreading across her face. “It just seems like a huge step and I’m curious, that’s all,”

He considers this, deciding to stop giving her a hard time, and responds. “Well if you must know, it’s for an audition,”

“For?”

“A movie,”

“A movie?” Alani’s eyes grow wide. “You’re gonna be in a movie?”

“Maybe,” he clarifies. “Dunno yet,”

“Wow,”

Harry leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. “What have you been up to? Any life changing decisions?”

Alani shrugs. “Same old. Work, my summer class,”

“And how’s your family?” he asks, which catches her off guard.

“Good. My sister’s… a moody teenager. My dad is catering a big wedding in Oahu right now. Mom’s saving lives like the badass woman she is,”

Harry laughs lightly at her comment and Alani tries to store the soundbite in the back of her mind for safe keeping.

“What about yours?” she questions.

“Fine, yeah. Mum’s good, so’s Gemma. Talk to them at least once a week just to check in,”

He pauses to take a sip of his water before continuing. “Ever since I was about...ten, maybe, ‘ve had this feeling like—protect mum at all costs. But she’s strong, has the greatest heart,”

Alani finds it sweet that Harry speaks so highly of Anne. Her own mom had always told her that a lot can be said about the character of a man by the way he treats his mother.

“I’m sure she misses having you around,” Alani comments, thinking of her own close relationship with her mom. “I don’t know if I could let my child leave home as early as you did,”

Harry brushes the tip of his nose with a knuckle and nods. “Was kinda hard at first, but she’s always been really supportive.”

“I bet she’s really proud.”

He offers a shy smile in response, scanning the scenery around them.

“I’m sure your family’s proud of you too.”

Alani and Harry continue their light conversation through the entire meal, sharing stories about their families and childhood. She finds herself wishing that she could have met a teenaged Harry, pre-fame and general world domination. He enjoys her anecdotes, soaking up every detail that he possibly can as if his life depends on it. The two of them go back and forth well after the meal is finished, only pausing when the waitress stops to check on them.

“Maybe we should go,” Alani suggests, checking her phone for the time. “I always hate when customers stay for hours,”

“Just like I did the first time at the café?” he asks, putting his signature on the bill.

Alani feels her cheeks warm and she quickly back pedals. “No! I mean—well, yeah, kinda—”

“And the truth comes out!”

“I was just annoyed because my sister kept bugging me to fill up your water. She was afraid you were gonna, like, get dehydrated and die or something.”

“Tell her I appreciate the concern.”

Alani laughs lightly, feeling a bit of relief when the breeze soothes her burning cheeks. The two of them make their way back into the restaurant and out the main entrance, padding down the boardwalk side by side. Harry never knows what to do with his hands, usually opting to stuff them into his pockets as he hurries down a busy street, but he desperately wishes to occupy them a different way. His pinky involuntarily brushes the back of Alani’s hand, but he pulls away quickly to avoid freaking her out. She wishes he hadn’t.

“What were you gonna do at the beach?” he asks to break the ice.

She thinks for a moment, watching the different couples huddled together on the beach. “Relax, get some air. Do a little reading,”

“What’re you reading?”

“Currently this book about Laurel Canyon in California and some of the musicians who lived there during the 60s. You might like it,”

Harry’s brow raises. “Think so?”

“Yeah, it’s got Joni, Crosby, Stills, and Nash, Mamas and the Papas, all those guys. They talk about their experiences of coming to terms with rapidly growing fame, the reality of the peace and love movement, the collaborative process. Seems like something you might find interesting—relatable, even,”

"I’ll check it out,” Harry promises with a nod.

Alani smiles gently and refocuses her attention on the horizon. “So what were you gonna do today?”

“Not much,” Think about you. “But speaking of books and stuff, I‘ve been meaning to ask. When you become, you know, the next Pulitzer Prize winner, do I get to be your plus one?”

She scoffs, squinting under the bright sun to look up at him. “I don’t know, I have to make it first,”

“And what does ‘making it’ mean to you?” Harry had been trying to re-define success, himself, and was curious to hear Alani’s thoughts on the subject.

She ponders the question for a minute, adjusting the straps of her orange tank-top to occupy her anxious fingers. “Move to New York, work for some big publication, something like that,”

“New York?” he asks, slightly taken aback. “And leave all this behind?”

“I think I’d like the change,” Alani reasons. “I love it here more than anything, but I think I’ve gotta make my own way, my own decisions. My grandma used to say that you ‘gotta swim before you drown because the ocean’s too vast and too interesting to get stuck treading water in the same place,’”

Harry nods, understandingly. “Wise woman,”

“Carolina,” Alani says, using the Spanish pronunciation that sounds like music to Harry’s ears. “That was her name, I was named after her,”

“Middle name?”

“Yeah,” she clarifies. “I’m half Mexican on my mom’s side,”

He hums. “Ever been?”

“To Mexico?” Alani asks, proceeding when he nods. “Yeah. Once when I was like, five, we went to Xcaret for my aunt’s wedding,”

“It’s beautiful there,” Harry notes.

“What’s your favorite place that you’ve been to?” Alani questions, imagining all the stamps that must be in Harry’s passport.

He thinks for a moment, a hum buzzing low in his throat as he sifts through his memory. “Probably Italy,”

“Lucky,” Alani muses, picturing the Gothic cathedrals that she longs to visit.

“You’d like it there.” Harry says, truly believing it. A part of him felt that she belonged in every beautiful place he could think of.

The two of them walk in silence for a few moments, each taking time to scope out the view around them. Alani sees a couple leaned against a staircase railing, looking deep in conversation, though probably not a pleasant one.

“You think they’re breaking up?” Alani asks gently, nodding her head in their direction. “Or just having the talk?”

Harry scans the scenery before his eyes land on the pair that she's referring to. “Ah yes, the talk. Ye olde chat,”

“What do you think you’d be if you weren’t a musician?” She poses suddenly. He laughs to himself at the way Alani jumps from topic to topic and reasons that her mind must always be going a mile a minute.

“A virgin,” Harry jokes, hoping that it’ll land. When she lets out a sudden, bright laugh, he looks over in relief.

“God, you are so…” Alani trails off, shaking her head.

He waits to see if she’ll finish the statement, but he doesn’t think she will. Truthfully, she doesn’t know what to say. The more Alani learns about Harry, the more he seems to surprise her. One minute he can be serious and thoughtful. The next, a ray of sunshine—aloof and carefree. She finds herself anticipating his every move, every word, and loving each minute that he allows her to. It makes her head spin at times, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

They journey down to the shore and discard their shoes in favor of feeling the cool sand beneath their toes. Alani tells Harry about the sea glass collection she had as a child, and he makes a mental note to scan the ground for any pieces she might like. She asks him if the beaches are nice in England, to which he responds a hard “no” compared to the ones in Hawaii or California. A couple of children splash in the shallow water nearby, and Alani doesn’t miss the fond look in Harry’s eye as he watches. Eventually, they wander back up to the main boardwalk when they spot a group of people happily sipping milkshakes. Harry noticed her eyes following them, practically drooling, so he suggested it before she had to.

“Want some?” Alani asks, her mouth full of strawberry.

Harry gladly accepts, taking a sip from the straw that she holds out to him. He hums, letting the taste sit on his tongue before he offers his own cup full of vanilla. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear before leaning over for a taste. The flavor is sweet and comforting to her, despite popular opinion that it’s boring. Alani swipes her tongue across her lower lip and thinks for a moment that this is what his mouth must taste like. She wishes she could verify this thought.

“I’m really glad you got the strawberry,” he notes, stirring his drink with the straw. “I was having a serious crisis over what to get,”

“When in doubt, always go with the pink one,” Alani says, tapping her temple, and suddenly Harry remembers that the contents of her bag were all various shades of bubble gum and dusty rose.

“It’s the only true rock ‘n roll color,” he offers, taking another sip of his milkshake.

“Paul Simonon?” she questions with narrowed eyes, instantly recognizing his reference to a quote from The Clash’s bassist.

“Nothing gets past you.”

********

The clouds above start to resemble puffs of cotton candy, signaling that the day will soon draw to a close much to both Harry and Alani’s dismay. They lounge in the pink Cadillac, which is parked in an area that overlooks the entire beach, and take turns picking out the one lie amongst two truths about one another; it was a game that Harry had proposed.

“Is it,” Alani starts, her lower lip caught between her teeth. “The four nipples?”

Harry makes a buzzer sound effect through his own laughter, temple resting against his fist as his arm drapes over the seat.

“Wrong-o, sorry,”

“What?!” she exclaims, eyes wide. “You’re messing with me,”

“Am not,” he defends proudly.

Alani lets out a surprised chuckle, fighting the urge to let her eyes wander below his neck. “I don’t believe you,”

“I’d prove it,” he shrugs. “But then I’d have to flash you,”

“Guess we’ll never know, then,”

Their laughter settles down and the only sound between them is the crashing of waves in the distance. Harry lets his eyes trail down the slope of Alani’s nose to her cupid’s bow—dangerous territory. Little does he know, Alani does the same, noting the fact that his lips are heart-shaped and the perfect shade of strawberry. How sickeningly charming, she thinks. Her eyes lift back to Harry’s and there’s something hidden behind the sea-glass that she can’t quite read. The air becomes charged and the two of them are like magnets, drawn inexplicably towards one another. Alani inches closer, her heart pounding so violently in her chest, she’s afraid that he can hear it. The sound of his own blood rushing in his ears prevents this, however, as he leans in too. The space between them gets smaller, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation, when the high pitched ringing of Alani’s phone sends her jolting backward. Harry curses every deity that he can name.

“Hello?” she responds, turning her back to him. She listens for a minute, a soft “mhmm” escaping every few seconds. “Okay, yes, I’ll be there. Thank you,”

Alani dreads having to turn back to Harry and face the consequences of whatever lines were almost crossed. She chooses to simply ignore it all together, as if no time had passed between his shocking personal revelation and the ringing of her phone.

“Stevie’s ready.” she says weakly.

Harry swallows down his frustration and offers a polite smile. “Let’s go get her.”

The mechanic shop is twenty minutes from the beach; Harry and Alani spend the entire ride in silence. Neither of them address the almost kiss despite the fact that it hangs over their heads like a raincloud of uncertain emotion. She occupies her gaze with the scenery whizzing past while he tightens his grip on the steering wheel. Alani mourns the fact that their little bubble had been popped so soon, but she figures that it’s for the best. Don’t get attached, she reminds herself. Easier said than done. Harry also wallows in the aftermath of the interruption, wishing he had acted sooner. When they finally arrive at the shop, the mechanic reveals that the cause of her car troubles was a simple dead battery. Harry offers to foot the bill, but Alani refuses, deciding that she shouldn’t accept any more favors from him in order to restore the boundary.

“So I guess this is where we part ways,” Alani says gently, toying with her keys.

Harry scans his brain for something—anything—a single excuse to see her again, and soon. He doesn’t think he can take another week and a half of icy silence and he has a suspicion that she can’t either. After all, she had leaned in, too—hadn’t she?

“There’s this thing,” he blurts out. “A sort of jam sesh at the studio tomorrow night. There’s gonna be booze, otherwise I’d tell you to bring your sister. But I’d love for you to come, and I think it might be good for—the article, or something,”

Alani weighs the pros and cons in her mind, one of which he had already mentioned: a chance to listen to what he’s working on. It seemed professional and innocent enough, not to mention the fact that there’d be other people around to keep them in check. Once she decides it’s safe, she nods.

“Okay, sure,”

“I can pick you up,” Harry offers.

Alani shakes her head gently and offers a shy smile. “No, that's okay. Tomorrow night?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there.”

They exchange good-byes and Alani thanks him for coming to her rescue, to which he offers a modest shrug. Harry speeds down the highway and back to the house, but three words linger in the silence.

I’ll be there.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles x oc #harry styles fluff #solo harry #one direction #harry fic #ybmh #sooo :))) how we feelin now

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