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paigenoelchas-blog · 1 year

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Feels Like Home

Chapter 21

MC's POV:

He turns back toward me and then back toward the door. Finally standing still, his hands continue to run through his hair. He is in shock, but I don't know if there is anger intermixed with it.

I feel the tears beginning to run down my cheeks. If I lose him now, after all of the running and chasing, both from dangerous situations and from each other, I don't know what I would do. I begin to rub my hands together. I haven't been this nervous in a long time.

If it had been any other person, I would have kept my mouth shut and never have told the full truth. Jake would have no way of knowing that I had deceived him, but I simply had to tell him the truth. I can't have anything between us. He deserves nothing but everything that I could give him.

The tears are freely falling now, but I wouldn't let him know. I was silent and he was distracted. I watch the muscles on the back tense and release. I thought about how handsome he was, but how his kindness overshadowed that. If there is anyone who would forgive this it would be him. It was the only chance that I had to hold on to. It was the last little bit of hope.

After few minutes passed, he remained unaware that I was so upset. It was the first time since we met that I have felt separate from him and the first time that he appeared unaware of my feelings. Even when we weren't speaking, he found ways to show me that he cared about me and made sure that I felt his love. I wasn't so sure right now. My hope is dwindling.

Jake's POV:

How could I have missed this? I can't believe it. She was looking for me? All of this the that I thought my feelings for her came first, but she had sought me out? How did I get so fortunate that she could be in my life and that she actively tried to be ? How did I get so fortunate that she would allow me to be in her vicinity and breathe in her air? She is a phenomenal woman. She is everything, And she told me the whole truth when she did not have to.

I run my fingers through my hair, trying to figure it all out. I am distracted at the thought of how, once again, fate intervened in our love. More little things had to happen to lead to this one big picture. I was going to be grateful for it and not question the why. Surely she can't still be afraid of our future. I am convinced that it has to be.

I did have one question. How did I not remember her? How could I have not been enraptured by those beautiful eyes....

WAIT!!

I do remember her, I pace around the room, suddenly aware of how enamored I was of her at the time. I had not forgotten. I remember how her beauty struck me at the moment. In fact, I almost answered her question.

I am so surprised by this turn of events. I can not believe there was no inkling of this. I remember now thinking about the girl, but then I met Mahri and all other women were out of the window. She was all that I wanted. I had tunnel vision. I had no idea that the two women were one and the same.

We have some things to talk about, this sneaky woman and I. I am even more proud of her and even more impressed by who she was.

She needed coffee and we needed to talk.

MC's POV:

He is in the kitchen. I hear noise, but I don't follow him, knowing that I must trust that he will speak when he feels like it. At least he was far away from the front door. That meant something, right?

I pull my knees to my chest and grab a blanket. I have to do something to comfort myself while I wait for him to speak. The blanket allows me to keep my tears to myself. I bury my head into it, pulling the blanket up to my nose. I hear a clank of something being set on the table and feel the couch dip next to me. He doesn't speak, instead, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me into a hug. I began to cry harder, this time I can't hide it.

For a few minutes we stay that way. He won't release me, just keeps letting me know that he is there and he isn't leaving. The relief that my heart felt, did nothing to stop my tears. It is a truly profound thing when hope is fulfilled.

He loosens his arms from around me and pulls the blanket down from my face. Then, he takes his fingers and wipes away my tears. His touch immediately brings comfort. "Beautiful girl, what is going on? Why are you crying?" He bends his face down until our eyes meet.

"Jake," I whisper, " I thought I would never... I thought you would never...." I couldn't finish.

"Oh, my love, you took my silence for anger or for a change in my feelings?" His expression is sympathetic and carries a little guilt.

I nod, it was a little bit of both.

He places his hadn't on my chin and holds my face so I can't look away. "I promise you that I will never stop loving you." He kisses my cheeks, " I will never leave you," he kisses my eyelids, "I will always want you in my life," He places his hands on my cheeks, "Nothing will ever keep me away."

He pulls me closer to him on to the couch and into his lap. "I am sorry for the confusion. I was shocked. I have quite underestimated your abilities. It seems that you are always one step ahead of me."

He pulls the blanket off of me. I can't figure out why, then he slides me up between his legs and places the blanket over both of us. HIs arms return around my waist as I melt into him.

"So, you aren't finished with me yet? Our romance isn't over? You have forgiven me?" I asked, my tone was pleading with him.

'If I have my way..." he pauses and his lips linger long against my ear. I can smell the rain that has dried on his jacket and the musk of the shampoo that he uses. HIs breathe is warm. Every once in a while it lands on my skin, sending shivers down my spine. I almost forget that he is speaking. It is as if I am in another world. "...our romance will never end, our love will only continue to grow. As far as forgiving you, I have nothing to forgive. I did not tell you everything at first and yet you trusted me. Even after I kept part of myself until we met, you treated me with nothing but love and respect. In fact, most of the secrets that you kept were for self preservation rather than deceit. Those friends that now trust you with everything would have never believed that you were innocent had you told them the truth at the start."

I continue to lean against him. I don't have the words to explain how happy I am that I can still be in his arms.

"I am the most shocked," he continues, "that I didn't remember you were a reporter, I can't believe that I would forget anything about you. Then a memory flashed through my mind... You were wearing your hair pulled back with a yellow ribbon you had this pad of paper that should have been studious for a reporter, but yours had a taco on it and the phrase, 'Let's taco bout it'.

I shake my head in embarrassment afraid that he thinks of me as childish.

"I loved that you didn't take yourself too seriously. I thought you were beautiful. I left abruptly because I was afraid that I would tell you too much. There was only one other person I ever felt that way about, only one other person that I worried about divulging too much information to."

"Oh yeah," I ask and turn around to face him. My eyes don't leave his and his arms only loosen slightly. He refuses to let go. I refuse to let him. "Who was this other person?" I mock jealousy, but I really want to know.

He smiles slightly, "It was this amazing woman that I met online who kept asking me a bunch of questions even when I asked her to stop. She begged me to at least tell me her name. I couldn't say no to her. I think her name was Mahri." He chuckles and I punch him in the arm.

I lean back in his arms and they tighten around me again. I feel soft kisses on my cheek. Happy to just be there, we sit in a comfortable silence for a while.

"You know, I am processing something else," he says after a bit, "If you hadn't followed me and talked to Hannah that day, we never would have met. I never would have known what this feeling is. I am very grateful that you are such a good reporter to follow up on a lead."

"I was following up on you, not a lead. I am so glad that I did."

He spun me around so he could look me in the eyes. Though I missed the warmth of his arms, I could feel the fire in his gaze.

He grabs me quickly and leans me on the couch, his body hovers over mine, his dark eyes roam my body. I have never seen him quite like this before.

His legs straddle my body as his face moves closer to mine. He takes one hand and adjusts my hips that I was squarely underneath him. He doesn't move, this time keeping his eyes locked with mine and my hips locked between his legs.

He lowers his face and devours my lips. His free hand roams my body while his other bears his weight. As his fingers slip under my shirt, I moan, which seems to spur him on. His kisses grow deeper and his hands become more aggressive, not that I am complaining. I am in heaven. My body feels electrified as his hand brushes the underside of my breast. His mouth explores every inch of mine, he is aggressive and unrelenting I see his eyes and they are the darkest navy blue that I have ever seen. His mouth moves down my neck slowly leaving a mark on the nape of y neck. He begins to kiss my collar bone, making me shake.

Suddenly, he stops. Panting and out of breath, I whimper, "What is going on? What is the matter?"

"I won't be able to stop if we carry much longer and I want to carry on, trust me, but I promised that I would take it slow. Fate brought us together, but I can tear us apart if I am not careful."

He sits up in the couch and I follow suit, putting a little space between the two of us. My head is still spinning form that make out session we just experienced. He reaches for my hand, grabs it and interlocks our fingers.

I can tell he is frustrated with himself. "I just can't seem to control myself around you anymore."

"Who says you have to? What is wrong with what we were doing?" I respond.

Jake's POV:

Just last week, she asked me to move slow. This is not slow. I will not lose her because of a moment of passion, be that a passion that I can barely control, a passion that I desire to explore.

"Nothing at all is wrong with kissing you or touching you or holding you. You and Betty, the two women that I trust the most told me to take it slow. I can't afford to scare you off. My feelings have already increased for you. Everyday, every time that I find out one new thing about you, I love you more. I can't lose you because of a lack of self control. All of this is important but it pales in comparison to the living moments day in and day out, it pales in comparison to hearing you tell the thoughts of your beautiful mind to me, it pales in comparison to learning the things your heart feels."

I try to explain it all to her. I don't want her to think there is a world in which I don't want her with every fiber in my soul. I just can't forget how hard it was when I thought that I had lost her. That week when we were apart was miserable and I realize that life without her would be unbearable.

She doesn't let go of my hand. I think she understands.

"I need you in my life, Mahri. I will wait as long as I need to. When that time comes, we will both know it is right."

"I am not afraid anymore, for what it is worth. I have no more secrets. I know that we are true."

I smile, that is good to hear. I am glad that she trusts that we will work.

"Nevertheless," I say and move my arm back around her shoulder now that I have regained my composure. She leans he head against my chest. I love having her close. "I don't think we should rush. We are young and have lots of time. I want us to be absolutely sure that it is the right timing."

She sighs, "Whatever you say."

"Are you pouting?" I ask. She is, though she won't admit it.

"No!" she says. I knew it. She is stubborn. It is cute. " I'm just a bit...."

"disappointed?" I finish for her. She nods. "Me too. Trust me, it may have to be you that stays strong next time."

She nods and I see her yawn.

"It is late, I should go." I say and start to sit up, she climbs up in my lap and keeps me in my spot.

"Not yet. I have one more thing to discuss with you. Jessy called today." she says and starts playing with the hair that falls over my ear. "She wants us to meet her and Dan tomorrow. He has something to say. What are your plans?"

I don't want to deal with this, but Daniel is important to her. Jessica is wonderful and I know we have to get this out of the way. She loves them and they will be part of her life, part of ours. Daniel was protecting her, well, he thought he was and how could I hold a grudge for that?

"My plans, now, are meeting with Daniel and Jessica so we can sort this out. I don't want this issue coming between you and your friends."

"Our friends, eventhough it may not seem that way right now. I will let JESSY know that we will be there." She emphasizes Jessy because I refuse to call her anything other than Jessica. It irritates her which made me smile and makes me want to keep doing it.

"We should get some sleep, then," I say kissing her on the top of her head. She takes my hand and kisses the back of each of my fingers. It makes me shiver.

"Jake, please stay tonight, nothing has to happen. Just sleep. It has been a long day and I want to be near you."He voice is sweet and syrupy, irresistible.

I don't want to refuse her. The truth is I always want to be near her.

"Are you sure?" I ask, raising one eyebrow.

She nods.

I sigh, feigning disinterest, She looks up and sees I am kidding. She punches me in the chest. Again with the punches. She was cute when she was feisty. As sweet as our love can be, as deep as my feelings for her run, the flirting is one of my favorite things

"Ow," I grab my arm and pretend that she hurt me.

She laughs and meets my eyes.

"I would love to sleep with you in my arms, but you are going to have to keep your hands to yourself. Do you think you can manage?" I ask.

"I will do my best not to jump your bones," she chuckles. Standing up, Mahri grabs my hand and pulls me up off of the couch.

"Follow me." She pulls me into her room. It is soft and inviting, full of creams and roses. Everything in here seems warm and beautiful mimicking the way she feels to me. Her bed is huge and the linens are crisp, a down comforter and some fuzzy blankets cover the bed.

"Stay right there." She says and runs to what I assume is her closet. I can hear her rummaging around. She emerges and hands me a box wrapped in Christmas wrap. "I bought this for you last Christmas. I wasn't sure when I would meet you, but I wanted to be prepared. I thought you might want these since you are sleeping over.

I tear open the package and find the ugliest pajamas given to me by the most beautiful woman with the biggest heart. They are pajamas with green and white Santas saying "Ho Ho Ho." I love them with my whole heart because they meant she thought of me.

She chuckles. "You think they are ugly."

"No, I think they are..."

"Jake, they are supposed to be ugly, that is what makes them funny." she giggles.

I laugh, relieved that I wasn't supposed to love them.

"I have a matching set," her eyes twinkle.

"Let's wear them," I say as she runs to the bathroom to change.

She walks out of the bathroom as I was changing my shirt. She catches her breath when she looks at me. I instantly feel embarrassed. I don't know what is so appealing besides scars and tattoos that I can't get rid of. But I do love that I have that effect on her.

"You are going to have to put on a shirt if you want me to keep my hands off." She says as I pull my pajama top over my head.

"Hang on a second," She takes a selfie of us in our matching pajamas.

"Show that to no one." I say, completely serious.

"Yes, sir. Maybe just Jessy," she winks.

"Nope. No one. Though I am glad that we have it so we can remember this moment when we are old and gray." I say.

I am pleased at the the thought of a life spent together.

She wraps her arms around my waist and I wrap my arms around her, my chin resting on her head. It still amazes me that she fits just right. I am in awe every time I realize how our lives fit so well.

"You ready?" she asks.

We climb into bed, She rolls over and puts her head on my chest, resting her leg on mine. My arm is wrapped around her holding her tight and playing with loose tendrils of her hair. I love the weight of her head on my chest and the warmth of her breath on my skin as we lay there. I listen to her sweet intake an expulsion of air that will soon turn into a snore that to me sounds like beautiful music. I smell vanilla and lavender as she drifts off to sweet sleep.

Laying there for a while, I think about my life and how I have done nothing to deserve any of this. In truth, she is too wonderful of me ever deserve her. I think of a future that is bright and full. We still have a few dragons to slay, but we can face it together. I have no doubt that we will be as happy as any two people have ever been. My smile deepens as I slowly fall asleep. I know that I am right where I want to be.

#iamjake #jake x mc #mc x jake #duskwood mc #duskwood jake #jake duskwood #duskwood jake x mc #jake donfort #mc duskwood #duskwood everbyte #duskwood #duskwood fandom #everbyte studio

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shibaraki · 3 years

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“You two seem closer," Oikawa comments with an eyebrow raised, stirring his straw around his cocktail glass. Both he and Hajime are back for the holidays and you’re all finally having a proper reunion after years of your schedules not lining up. Makki snorts in the seat beside him.

Mattsun cannot seem to stay away from you tonight. Or any night, really. Any time you’re in his vicinity he’s pulled toward you by some invisible force that he can’t ignore.

"Now look what you've started," You groan, your bottom lip jutting out with your cheek resting against the palm of your hand. “How am I supposed to find someone to go home with if you’re hanging over me like a bad smell?”

Issei chuckles under his breath and it seeps into your skin, your body feeling warmer. He doesn’t offer a response but he looks far too proud of himself.

“Are you sure you’re not dating?” Hajime scrutinises you both with a look suspicion, nursing his sake.

"Like I would date him,” you mutter childishly, and everyone at the table glances at each other in amusement. Absolutely no one believes that.

"Yeah," Issei snorts, a teasing glint in his eye, "my arms are too small, isn’t that right? You’ve been staring at Hajis all evening”.

“So you admit that you’ve been watching me this whole time?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, “m’always looking at you”. The entire table groans collectively in disgust and he throws his head back in laughter, his cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink. He hadn’t even had a sip of alcohol yet, either.

“I can’t believe I’m still having to watch you both do this ridiculous dance years after we’ve graduated,” Tooru complains. “Like you’re one to talk,” Makki muses, eyes glancing over to Hajime before dropping his head onto Oikawa’s shoulder. Tooru hisses at him to shut up.

“It’s not even close to being a dance,” you protest with a whine. “More like harassment. I’m this close to filing a restraining order-”

Hajime laughs and almost chokes on his drink, leaving Issei to reach over and slap him on the back. Oikawa hands him a napkin with an endeared look on his face. Finally wrapping his hand around his full glass, Issei turns to grin at you mirthfully.

“You’d never do that. If I wasn’t allowed near you, who would bring you lunch?”

The giddy feeling in your chest only grows the longer his grin is directed towards you. Stupid handsome Issei.

“Nah, you guys have got to be dating,” Makki glared with an accusing finger waving between you both. “You’re just fucking with us”.

“We’re not!” You splutter at the exact same time Issei says “we are”.

Oikawa releases a dramatic sigh, looking up to the ceiling of the bar as if in prayer and you’re tempted to join him as the others cackle loudly, your face now bright red.

“Move Issei, let me out of this booth, I’m going home! You’re not funny!” You demand, trying to stand without knocking the table of drinks in front of you. Shaking his head no, appearing to be thoroughly entertained by your reaction, he reaches out to grab your hips. He swiftly pulls you in to his lap and locks his arms around you when you begin squirming away in embarrassment. “Just sit still and be good for me,” he murmurs smoothly with his head hooked over your shoulder. He doesn’t miss how your body shudders.

“Oi, don’t subject us to your weird foreplay!” Hajime fumes, knocking Oikawas fingers away from his ears when he comments about how they’ve turned pink.

“I hate you,” you grumble to the man behind you, who looks much too pleased by what he has caused. “Why can’t you just ask me out like a normal person?”

“Alright then, so go out with me,” he hums against the skin of your jaw, squeezing your waist. Frustration and arousal clash within you at once, leaving you wanting to strangle him a little.

“Fine, maybe I will,” you answer petulantly, nuzzling your cheek against his temple. Relenting in his hold you finally relax, sinking back against his chest and watching your old friends bicker amongst each other. Truthfully you had missed this, missed them, far more than you’d realised.

#mattsun is a little shit #i love it tho #haikyuu x reader #mattsun x reader #matsukawa x reader

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djarinsbeskar · 3 years

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Counterstrike - Boxer!Din AU

Definition - a strike that retaliates against an earlier strike.

A/N: Finally back with a long awaited instalment for Boxer!Din. I’m floored by the response he has received since I posted him first and I just wanted to thank you all so much for showing him (and me) so much love (and lust). In particular, I’d like to dedicate this instalment to @bestinbeskar @honestly-shite @3frontier and @pedro4ever for the gorgeous art of Boxer!Din they each made! Links can be found on the Boxer!Din masterlist below.

Word Count: 3.5k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: SMUT! Unprotected sex (do as I say, not as I write), semi-public sex, rough dom!Din, dirty talking, no beta.

Main Masterlist | Boxer Materlist

Ever since he first fucked you in the middle of his boxing ring, Din had developed a bit of a bad habit. A habit that involved finding some way to bury his cock inside you ever time he saw you; an inconvenience since you mostly came across each other in less than private settings. His gym, the sports clinic, or the massage studio you worked at.

It was sweltering, the city falling under the hold of a heatwave that no number of cold showers would help cool. Din ran hot by nature, and the heat only served to make him two things: irritable and horny.

That might explain the near instant reaction he had to the tempting little sundress you wore to combat the suffocating heat when you popped your head around the main doors of the gym. Your day off if the lack of uniform was anything to go by. A vision in coral pink and flushed skin, you beamed against the metal and muted, dark tones of the boxing area.

Sweat dropped down his temple from where he lay on the bench press, bare chest glistening and muscles taut as he lowered the barbell down slowly to his chest. Trained, expert eyes – honed instinct to notice every miniscule move of an opponent – picked up the flash of color and immediately flickered over to where you were approaching him.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

His jaw clenched as he turned his attention resolutely back up to stare at the ceiling, focus Djarin. With a measured exhale, his muscles bunched to press the heavy weight back up away from his body, held it for a beat, and let it lower once more on a slow inhale.

Three more.

His head turned towards you to admire your form as you traced your hand over the dumbbell stand, skilled fingers walking along the progressively heavier weights while your eyes met his in the wall of mirrors behind the stand. You smiled. And it lit your face up.

Jesus fucking Christ.

His eyes dropped from yours down your body indulgently, content to hold the weight of the barbell a beat longer. The way that dress clung to every damned curve he wanted to sink his fingers and teeth into, the swish of the skirt barely reaching the middle of supple thighs that looked better thrown over his shoulders. The fucking nerve you had to not bother concealing the faded mark on the top of your breast where it peeked out from over your neckline where he left it several days ago.

His mouth twisted into a snarl, his mark. Damn fucking right.

You were teasing him, crossing one ankle over the other to turn towards him with a dainty twirl of your skirt. Don’t get distracted on the bench, he growled to himself internally, and with a grunt, he pushed the barbell back up, the lines of muscles that cut across his triceps flexing taut and his pectorals pulsed from the strain of exercising them.

The pulse of his cock in his gym shorts on the other hand, that wasn’t a muscle that was supposed to be engaged for this particular exercise.

Two more.

“Miss me already, sweetheart?”

He ground out, voice rough and strained—keenly aware of the sway of your hips as you walked back towards the bench, his eyes at perfect eye level to thighs he wanted to wrap around his waist. You passed his head – fuck, he could smell you from here – to stand by his hips. He brought the barbell back down slowly towards his chest, breathing more labored than it should be and his jaw clenched in frustration. You were getting to him.

His grip on the metal bar almost slipped entirely when you hiked up the skirt of your dress to kick one leg over the bench and straddle his hips, the sudden weight and heat making him grunt in surprise.

You were soaked—he realized at the same time it dawned on him that you weren’t wearing any underwear.

“Does this answer your question?”

Voice as light and airy as the lavender scent that suffused the room you gave massages in—making his teeth grind and his hips struggle to remain still when memories of that same voice breathless and gasping with moans he elicited rose in his memory.

You rubbed yourself over the thick outline of him through his gym shorts – you little fucking tease – and sweat wasn’t the only thing dampening them anymore.

“Finish your workout, Din,” you sighed breathily, hooded eyes scanning the empty gym floor appreciatively—basking in the ability to rock so openly and languidly over his throbbing cock. It was a sunny day. It was the end of the week. No one was in the gym—and that was precisely why Din chose to work out now.

His eyes never left yours, molten pools filling with dark promise clashed with yours as your small hands found the planes of his tight abdomen, the muscles clenching sensitively under your touch,

“Keep your back straight… don’t want to injure yourself again—” you purred and received a warning growl in response when he pushed the weight back up, a ripple of heated arousal gathering low at his spine and tightening to a coil beneath your hands that indulgently ran over toned muscles and tawny, inked skin.

One more.

Fuck… but you felt so good. Grinding on him like that.

Din’s hips rocked up against you despite himself, his heels pressing into the grate metal flooring to push his clothed cock against your dripping cunt, your soft gasp when he caught your clit music to his ears and the last bit of motivation he needed to drop the barbell back to his chest. You focused your ruts on the tip of his bulge, the fucking audacity you had to use him to get yourself off—grinding your clit over his soaked shorts and digging short nails into his stomach while soft, gentle eyes darkened with lust bore into his.

He lowered his hips again, smirking at the soft whine of annoyance you couldn’t mask in order to adjust his posture correctly. With one last exhale, a panted curse as corded muscles tensed and released with a final burst of energy, his arms straightened once more above him.

Finally.

He had a hand tangled in the length of your hair before the clatter of the metal barbell hitting the hooks of the stand above him died out, yanking you down until your breasts were flush with his heaving chest. His other hand – calloused and rough – grabbed a fistful of your ass, the soft material of your dress bunching effortlessly in his hand,

“Didn’t get enough last week, baby?” he growled against your mouth, guiding your hips over his cock harder now that he could thrust shallowly against you, grinning darkly at your keen of frustration when his mouth glanced yours, avoiding kissing you, “fuck, you’re soaked for me already—”

Teeth grazing your jaw, you arched your neck back in blind submission, the hand caught against his stomach shifting down to tug at his shorts, succeeding in getting them only halfway down. You both groaned at the contact when wet, slick heat burned around the leaking head of his cock, making the heatwave outside feel like nothing more than a warm breeze.

“Din…” you moaned when a perfectly timed grind of his hips knocked the blunt tip against your hooded bundle of nerves, “a week is too long…” you admitted to the boxer’s delight. Finally. He wasn’t the only one going stir crazy only seeing you sporadically.

“Yeah?” he rasped, tightening his hold in your hair so he could keep your head pulled back while he licked a small trickle of sweat that was slowly making its way down to the hollow of your throat, “thinking about my cock all this time?”

Feral pride filled him at your immediate nod, his chest swelling with a primal snarl – why the fuck did you have to agree so easily, he’d never stop thinking about it now – and captured your lips heatedly with his own. Growling your name, he plundered your mouth—lapping along your tongue and groaning at your taste, swallowing your soft sighs and mewls of satisfaction at finally having his lips on yours again.

His hand dropped from your hair to drag down your spine, down the thin fabric that clung to your heated skin until he was dipping two thick digits between exposed cheeks to swipe through your drenched folds. Circling, spreading, coaxing whines and groans of his name with every press of his fingers. Music more beautiful than even the most skilled pianist could create, and all from the fingers of a fighter.

Conversation from elsewhere in the vicinity carried through empty corridors and with a dip of his fingers into your quivering entrance – chestnut eyes sharpened to dark amber watching doe eyes flutter shut in pleasure – his words breathed into your mouth when your lips parted against his,

“Locker room. Now.”

What followed was a heated scramble, a need to be close—to remain in this transcendent bubble of scorching touches and burning attraction. He practically dragged you with him across the gym floor, weaving between machines with his hand wrapped firmly around your wrist. You already looked wrecked, thoroughly corrupted with mused hair, and crooked clothing. Your legs wobbled as you followed his menacing frame, eyes glued to the shifting muscles in his back, an apex predator dragging his prey back to devour in rapture. You went willingly.

The tiles of the shower cubicle were cold when he shoved you against them – the only place remotely private in the locker room when he tugged the thin curtain closed behind you – his hands flexing around your jaw when he turned your face up for him to kiss. Free hand pressing into the small of your back, he made you arch against him, and you mewled at the solid length of him throbbing against your stomach.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he rumbled, hand snaking around to disappear beneath the skirt of your dress again as he rocked his hips against you slowly—cupping your cunt and his teeth leaving a trail of bites down your throat as his words whispered across the tiles.

You blushed.

He saw it—even above the flush of arousal, he saw your cheeks darken and your eyes flicker to the side at his words. Avoiding his gaze, expecting a hunter’s response of claws and teeth to your doe-like display of weakness—and his eyes softened minutely. Some of the aggressive tightness bled from his gaze which he hid in a nip to your jaw, the heel of his hand rubbing in tempting circles over your swollen clit while his fingers split along your entrance, smearing your slick over puffy lips.

You rocked your hips over his hand needily, fingers scratching down the sides of his neck, scoring passion into the tanned skin and whispers against his lips – please Din, please – along with the pleasurable pain rippling from your nails compelled him to shove two fingers knuckle deep into your tight cunt.

He covered your mouth quickly with his palm when an unadulterated moan ricocheted off the tiles, echoing louder – “fuck baby, quiet” – was hissed against your cheek even as his fingers picked up a merciless pace of pump pump pump, his thumb swiping across your clit, his speed building—making it harder for you to stay quiet as you whimpered against his hand.

Nails digging into his shoulders, you buried your face into his sweat slick neck when he dropped his hand from your mouth to hike your leg up over his arm, spread you wider for him to thrust soaked fingers into your sopping core.

When you came the first time, you bit his neck—his teeth baring from the sting while his fingers scissored against your convulsing walls, dragging you through contractions of pleasure that sent spikes of electricity to cloud your brain in a muffled babble of yes yes yes sobbed into his neck.

Condensation misted the tiles by your head as heat lifted from sweltering bodies. Din growled praise, rough rasps of “good girl, that’s it…” into your ear as you relaxed around fingers that were lazily curling up inside you, your mouth working lazily over the sensitive point where his jaw met his neck, nipping—licking, begging him to fuck you.

His brain short circuited.

His large body caging you against the wall, you preened and arched and tempted him into you with soft sighs of his name and your hands tracing down to the hem of his shorts. Heavy, lust-pooled eyed followed your hands, watching you pull him from his shorts and stroke him with expert fingers that never failed to make him fall apart—on your table, in your bed… you bewitched him with touch since first he met you. He was a slave to it.

“Fuck, baby—” he groaned, his head falling back before he swiped your hands away from his swollen length, giving it a few hard strokes as he ran the head between your exposed folds. He filled you with on thrust, a filthy squelch as your pussy accepted him – unable to be gentle, unable to take his time when all he could think of was claiming you over and again, of meeting your counterstrike with a knockout and hearing your surrender in cries of his name.

He was big—so big that every time he filled you, it felt like he was splitting you apart. The smallest hint of pain, the breach of his cock melting into a delicious fire that licked and coated your nerves as the fat head knocked against soft tissue inside you. He found his pace with a slow rut that dragged his cock along tight walls where you could feel every single vein throb enticingly against you.

His facial hair sanded across your cheek as he panted how good you felt, how tight—how addicted he was to the feel of you, how he wanted to fuck you for hours. Your nails curved down over the muscles of his shoulder blades, along his waist—basking in his size, his strength—his head lowering to scrape his teeth over the swell of your breast, sucking over the ghost of his previous mark and drawing blood back to the surface as he snapped his hips back into you.

And then the door to the locker room opened, and conversation filled it.

Din didn’t even think before slamming his fist onto the water pressure, drenching the two of you in seconds with cool water and drowning the sounds of his cock slamming into you with the hiss of water falling in rivulets down your bodies.

You moaned, too far gone to know – or care – that you weren’t alone, and his hand came back up to cover your mouth with a warning growl into your ear, “Shut up, unless you want to give them a show.”

Even as he said it, his pace grew harder—punching gasps and sounds of surprised pleasure from parted lips that were only mitigated by the calloused palm he folded over them. Your nipples pebbled through soaked fabric, drawing his eager mouth down to suck it raw through the dress, whimpers for more echoed in the tight clench of your cunt around his glistening length.

Steam filled the shower, bleeding out into the locker room where laughter and conversation blended to mask the wet slaps of his skin against yours, the sodden movement of clothes and his guttural groans around your nipple as you clawed at his undulating back.

“Din—” you whispered, panting as strands of your hair fell into your face—fucked out and divine when his mouth slanted over yours again, your chest heaving while one hand lifted to cup his jaw, keeping his mouth on yours. He snapped into the dripping grasp of your pussy hard, shoving you up the wall onto your toes, the graze of the short coarse hairs at the base of his cock tickling over your sensitive clit.

“So fucking loud…” he growled on a whip of anger, the sound cracking down the feral possessiveness of his tone and making you moan. He would spank that pretty ass red, your pussy pink if there wasn’t the risk of the sound carrying to the other athletes getting changed for their workout.

Oh well.

That just meant he would have to take you again later.

His balls tightened and his stomach clenched at the thought, fuck. He wanted you again and he hadn’t even cum yet—your tight little cunt already quivering and tightening around him with your oncoming orgasm as he lost himself in eyes flooded with open desire— disarming him with the candor he saw reflected in them. He swallowed thickly.

“Gonna ruin you, sweetheart,” was his immediate reaction, the only way he could think to reciprocate. A gush of wetness pushed around his cock drilling into you, your walls getting impossibly tighter, and he smirked darkly—his nose pressing into your cheek, teeth bared and feral, “you’d like that, huh?”

Delirious nods were all you were capable of as silent gasps kept your lips parted, eyes rolling back when his thumb dropped to draw tight, fixated little circles on your clit—forcing you over the edge with a final blow that sucked the breath right out of you, the boxer taking and taking and taking everything he wanted from you with wet thrusts and brutal bites to your already marked neck.

He swallowed your orgasm with his mouth, the wet strands of his hair dripping water onto your pretty face as he sucked your tongue into his mouth, dropping his free hand to slide down the length of your side as his thrust turned erratic, chasing his high—chasing that bliss he could only find buried deep inside you.

“Cum, Din—cum,” you breathed, cupping his face as you smiled—exhaustion written plain on your face and his brows pinched in concentration, dropping his forehead to your shoulder with a gasp of your name, breathless as he pulled out—his hand moving frantically over the swollen length of him until he coated your mound and dress with his release. It washed away in streaks of milky white down your body, a subtle pang of fatigued frustration to see it disappear so quickly flashing though him.

The locker room was silent when he turned the water pressure off.

Apart from your labored breathing, the locker room was silent—the prior occupants leaving none the wiser or – if they had heard anything – wisely leaving.

Din dropped your leg from where it remained hooked over his arm, his hands fisting in the skirt of your dress to drag the sodden material up and over your head with a shiver at the uncomfortable feeling of wet clothes.

The sight of your naked body made his softening cock twitch, dammit. You were all gentle curves and soft skin, clothed in the marks of his mouth and bruises of his grip.

He wanted you again.

And caged within his arms, trapped with his hands pressed either side of your head, his shaggy head of soaked waves falling into dark, guarded eyes—you could admit you wanted him again too.

“I’ll wash your dress,” he rasped gruffly, taking a step back from you and kicking off his shorts to wring out and toss into his gym bag. He left the shower with effortless calm, as if he wasn’t stark naked but returned with a towel for you to wrap yourself in.

You flashed him a grateful smile that stuttered when he tossed another – smaller – towel on your head, rubbing it quickly over your soaked locks despite your complaints, a crooked smirk your only indication that he was playing.

“You don’t have t—”

“You can wait for it to dry at my place.”

His words brokered no argument as you padded after him into the empty locker room, the boxer rummaging through his own locker to pull out a simple white t-shirt—long enough to cover you… just about. The hem fell shorter than your dress and you were distinctly aware of your lack of underwear when you pulled it on.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he rumbled as he tugged a tight black muscle shirt over his head, looking down at you with a devastating smirk and sinfully half-lidded eyes, “I don’t share. No one will see you.”

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wondernimbus · 4 years

Text

meet the weasleys — george weasley

pairing: george weasley x female!reader

summary: george takes reader to meet his family.

requests are closed for now. please refrain from plagiarizing my work!

"I’m nervous."

"Well, don't be."

"Thank you, George. That somehow just alleviated all of my worries."

George snickers and squeezes her hand in reassurance. “Just relax. My family doesn't bite—or, well, Ron used to, but that was back when he was, what, five? And besides, you already know him, and he's never bit you before, has he?"

"Not helping."

"And you've met most of my family already."

“I haven't met your mum. Or your dad. Or Bill and Charlie,” she argues, eyes worriedly darting from George’s own to the wooden door in front of them.

George laughs again. His eyes don’t fail to catch onto the way she’s frantically tapping her foot against the ground, how she keeps worrying at her bottom lip. The sight has him grinning widely; he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t horribly endeared.

“Listen,” he says, removing his fingers from her own in favor of turning her around to face him. George’s hands go to her neck, cradling the sides of her cheeks. “They’re going to love you. And if they don’t—well, I can always find a different family.”

”George,” she sighs.

”Only joking,” he grins, and leans in to press a very brief kiss to the tip of her nose. “But I mean it. They’ll adore you. Possibly even more than I do, although that’s up for debate.”

She lets out a long breath, pursing her lips together in a feeble attempt at a smile, but George commends her for trying. He drops his hands back to his sides and laces his fingers through her own again, turning to face the door like they’re about to venture into some sort of grand adventure and not into his family’s living room—and George is about to twist open the knob, until [Y/N] goes, “Wait.”

He glances at her. Her eyes are wide and the look on her face still so uncertain. Sucking in a breath through her teeth, she asks him, “How do I look?”

The grin on George’s face is so impossibly wide. “Like a billion galleons,” he tells her. Just because he can’t resist the urge, he swoops down to press one more chaste kiss to her lips. And then finally, he twists the knob.

The moment George steps foot through the door, he’s immediately enveloped by the wafting scent of something being cooked on the stove. It smells familiar, like he should know what it is, but George has never been much of a chef. But he recognizes the sounds—the voices—coming from the kitchen despite all of them mingling together to form one raucous chorus of chatter. He knows exactly which voice belongs to who—knows that the loud shriek is his mum reprimanding one of them, knows that the sound of someone whining is very likely Ron. That laugh is Bill’s, too, mingled with Fred’s voice. George just knows, automatically, without even having to think about it. George knows, too, without looking down on the “welcome” mat in front of the door, that there are going to be muddy boots on top it—and there they are. He steps around them. George knows that there is going to be a quilt magically knitting itself together on the couch without even having to look at it—and there it is.

And just like that, he knows he’s home.

Something about having [Y/N] in the vicinity of a place so important to him—a place that’s part of him—has his heart feeling full. He pauses for a moment in the doorway, taking it all in, but he’s snapped out of his brief spell of inexplicable happiness when his father comes lumbering out of the door leading to the kitchen.

“George!” his dad exclaims loudly, and just like that all chatter from the room behind him ceases (“They’re here?!” he hears his mother panic). “We didn’t hear you come in!”

”Likely because mum was too busy screaming,” George grins, and walks forward to envelop his father in a hug.

”Ah, yes—Fred arrived half an hour ago and terrified Ron out of his wits with some sort of fake—no, actually, nevermind that! This must be [Y/N].”

Arthur’s eyes have landed on her, and George actually has to give her a little nudge for her to say something. Her eyes widen like she’s surprised at being addressed (as though the entire point of this gathering hadn’t been to get to introduce her), but then her lips break out into a smile and she steps forward to shake his father’s outstretched hand.

”It’s really nice to meet you,” she says, eyes crinkling at the edges. George stands to the side watching the scene unfold, feeling oddly proud.

”Yes, of course!” Arthur nods with remarkable enthusiasm, smiling just as wide. “I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you! You’re Muggle-born, correct?”

She lets out a tinkling laugh. “Yes, that’s right.”

”Brilliant!” he claps his hands together—but George knows exactly where this is going, so he cuts his father off and says, “I think we can address the function of a rubber duck later over dinner, dad.”

Arthur pauses, seemingly dejected, but then gathers himself and nods. “Oh, right, well, I suppose—“

”[Y/N]!”

And there’s George’s mum, Molly, coming from the kitchen, hurriedly pulling off her oven mitts to rush straight towards [Y/N] and envelop her in a big, warm hug. “Oh!” [Y/N] exclaims, obviously taken a bit by surprise given that the two of them have never met before, but eventually she breaks out into light laughs and hugs her back. [Y/N] meets George’s gaze over Molly’s shoulder; he gives her this encouraging sort of smile, and then jokingly complains, ”Blimey. S’pose I’m not missed here anymore.”

”Oh, quiet, you!” Molly frets, waving a dismissive hand in the air (George laughs) and then pulling away from [Y/N] to grip her by the arms and gush, “You’re far prettier than I could have ever imagined!”

[Y/N] flushes a shade of vibrant pink. “Oh, no—but thank you—“

”Have you gotten your vision checked lately, [Y/N]?” It’s Fred, leaning on the kitchen doorframe with a toy snake dangling from his hand. “Or do you really want to be with Georgey despite his baffling similarities to a mountain troll?"

”We’re twins, you prat.” George smacks the back of Fred’s head.

“Ah, right.” Fred is grinning despite having received a blow to the head. “It’s lovely seeing you, future-sister-in-law.”

Fred and [Y/N] have known each other just as long as she and George have, having gone to Hogwarts at the same time all those years ago. All three of them had bonded over their mutual love for pranks, although [Y/N] had always been their babysitter of sorts—the one who made sure none of their jokes went too far out of line. George loved her for it; loved how considerate and gentle she was despite her undeniable mischief. But he’d only really gotten himself to tell her after the war; one brief visit of hers to the joke shop turned into two, and then three, and then suddenly [Y/N] was always hanging around somewhere in Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, helping the business run along. It was Fred who convinced George, only six months ago, to confess his admiration for her after five years of holding himself back.

After the war, George had all the time in the world to take as many risks as he could. So he told her—and now here they are: [Y/N] ruffling Fred’s hair fondly, George trying to fend off his mother’s hands trying to fix his hair (“don’t you think you need a haircut, sweetie?”), and Ron making his grand entrance from behind Fred.

”Ron!” [Y/N] exclaims, catching sight of him, and then jokingly she adds, “I haven’t seen you in ages—last time I saw you you were the size of a Pygmy Puff.”

Ron scoffs out a laugh. “You’re only two years older than me, you know,” he huffs, but lets her hug him, anyway.

Brief introductions are made as Bill and Charlie enter the room. George watches as [Y/N] shakes their hands—Charlie hugs her, as he’s always been big on affection—and just like that George knows that she’s won all of them over, the way she’d done to him. The way she still does to him, after all this time.

Five minutes later they're being ushered into the garden behind the Burrow, where a long wooden table has been set up. There are golden streamers draped all around the bushes and hanging from the branches of trees, but that's hardly what captures George and [Y/N]'s attention first because at the very end of the long table, a large banner is floating in mid-air: one that says "WELCOME TO THE FAMILY!" in glittering silver letters.

George doesn't miss the look on [Y/N]'s face when she sees this; her eyes almost seem to well up with tears, and despite the picture-perfect setting in front of him—despite the golden streamers and the balloons and the faerie lights hanging in mid-air—it's that look on [Y/N]'s face that has his breath catching in his throat and his heart doing odd little double-takes inside his chest.

He loves her, he realizes. It’s nothing new—shouldn't be anything new to him, as he's known it for quite a while now—but still there are moments like this one where he pauses and has to take a while to let it sink in; the fact that the woman next to him, whose smile reminds him of every single happy moment he has ever lived through, loves him just as much as he loves her.

Knowing that is absolutely surreal.

"We didn't expect you to arrive so early!" Molly says, obviously harried as she passes by them bearing a cauldron of steaming soup. “The cookies are still baking—and [Y/N], honey, I sent Ginny upstairs to go fetch your sweater, she should be down any time soon—Ron, Fred, will you stop that!”

The two, who had been wrestling with the toy snake Fred held in his hands earlier, immediately drop their hands to their sides. “T’was Fred who started it,” grumbles Ron.

”And I plan on ending it!” Fred emits some sort of war-cry, but stops when he spots the look on his mother’s face. “Kidding, mum.”

—

It takes a good half-hour or so before the last of the dishes are finally set on the table and everyone is seated. There’s food of all sorts in front of them—treacle tarts, cakes, pudding, pie—and [Y/N], who initially thought she’d feel too nervous to eat anything, eats with ease. Like everyone else around the table, she’s wearing a fuzzy red sweater with her initial sewn in front; a gift to her from Molly. The moment she’d laid eyes on it she knew it was her favorite thing in the entire world.

She tells this to George, who raises his eyebrows and replies snarkily, “I’m gonna have to ask for you to return the necklace I gave you, then.”

”Oh, sod off,” she laughs, rolling her eyes, but she lets him spoon pie into her mouth.

“Gah, get a room!” complains Fred.

”It’s not like they’re snogging,” says Charlie.

”Would you like us to?” grins George, earning him a slap to the shoulder from [Y/N].

”There are children here, George,” she scolds.

”You’re only two years older!” protests Ron.

No one really notices, but the sun has long since sunken below the horizon. Everyone around the table is immersed in chatter; Ron, for example, has been roped into a passionate debate with Fred and George about the true purpose of Pygmy Puffs. (“They only exist to ask for food and jump around and make annoying little noises!” says Ron, to which George responds with, “That sounds like you, Ron.”) [Y/N], meanwhile, is offering an explanation to Arthur about the rubber duck.

“They don’t do much of anything, really. They float and squirt and sometimes they make noises.”

But Arthur looks disappointed, as though he’d been expecting something much more grand. So [Y/N], not wanting to bring down his mood, decides to add, ”I believe they’re also used to keep—um—Grindylows away from your bathwater.”

Mr. Weasley positively beams with joy. “Is that right? I told you, Molly, rubber ducks are magnificent little things!”

Molly gives her husband an exasperated look, but it disappears the moment she turns to [Y/N]. “We’re so glad to have you here, sweetie,” she tells her, reaching over the table to grasp her hand and offering her the most motherly smile [Y/N] has ever seen. “We’ve heard so many good things about you. George speaks so very highly of you—and he was right, you really are perfect for him!"

[Y/N] flushes, smiling. “Thank you, Mrs. Weasley.”

”Oh, no, no, call me Molly,” she laughs, waving a hand in the air. “You’re part of the family now, dear. No need for formalities.”

And [Y/N] does feel like it—like she’s part of this table. This family. Not just the girlfriend of one of their sons but someone who actually belongs.

It’s odd, in a magical sort of way, how all of their random conversations blend together to form one harmonious burst of chatter, how everything and everyone in that table just works. Like puzzle pieces from different sets, she thinks to herself. And they shouldn't fit, but they do.

So this is home for George. This is the place he grew up in. This is where his heart lives.

She can't help the way her eyes stray to him every now and then, noting the sheer joy reflected in his eyes, the way the smile on his lips never really goes away. How, even when Ron flicks a strawberry at his face—even when George threatens to send a whole army of pygmy puffs after him—there's still that joyful glint in his eyes.

With the end of winter right around the corner, surrounded by the family that has welcomed her with open arms, holding the hand of her very favorite person underneath table, fireflies flitting around above them as laughter echoes around the table: [Y/N] feels safe. Happy.

So this is home.

—

The next morning, [Y/N] and George find themselves walking along the edge of the woods where meadow rues grow, a little ways away from the Burrow. They walk unhurried, the soles of their feet swishing against the blades of grass with each step, hands hanging loosely intertwined between them.

They’d woken up before anyone else, when the sun had just barely begun to rise. George had told her to "Get up, I want to take you somewhere" and admittedly she'd whined a little, claiming to need five more minutes of sleep, but George, laughing, threw her over his shoulder and threatened to carry her all the way there if she didn't oblige.

But now, she's glad she came with.

At one point she stops walking, lifts her face to the sky and closes her eyes against the warmth of the sun, taking a deep breath and soaking in everything that the morning wants to bring her. George watches her without question, a fond little smile already tugging on the edges of his lips without him even realizing. [Y/N] is beautiful in the sunlight—or any light at all, actually. George isn't entirely convinced someone like her—someone so breathtakingly beautiful and gentle and patient—would want someone like him. But when he tugs on her hand, turning her around to face him, and when he cups her jaw and guides her closer to press their mouths together, she lets him. She doesn't even think about it. Just melts into him like it's the only thing she knows how to do.

And then she pulls back slightly but stays close, runs a palm down the length of George’s arm and links their fingers together.

"It’s not much," he tells her, voice uncharacteristically quiet. A little unsure. "But it's home." Because, now that the excitement from yesterday has faded, George knows what his house could look like to someone who hasn't lived there all their life—knows that it looks messy, like pieces of it were thrown together haphazardly. It’s not a manor. Nothing like the kind of houses you see featured on Witch Weekly. He knows that [Y/N] isn't the type to care, but still—

"I love it," she pulls away, throwing her head back in an actual laugh—the kind that reminds George of everything good in the world. "I love this place, George. And your brothers and Ginny and your parents. Yesterday was.." she pauses, calming down a little, taking in a deep breath as she squeezes his hand in her own. "It was magical."

Quietly, with her eyes skittering away to look back at the Burrow behind them, she tells him, "I'm really happy, George."

George knows he'll remember this moment forever. The day is just beginning, and he is standing on the edge of a forest-line with a girl who looks at him like in spite of however many weird things he does, whatever dumb things he says, however embarrassing and difficult and painful some days might be, George is still worthy of being hers.

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moonlit-imagines · 3 years

Text

Cover-Up

Avengers x teen!reader

warnings:

a/n:

prompt:

Thin ice.

That’s what Secretary Ross had said to you the last time you spoke. You’re on thin ice, kid.

Why did he choose to threaten you like that? Because you were iffy on the Accords. That was all it took. He was threatening your position as an Avenger, one you had fought so hard to secure. And there were still hurdles you hadn’t quite hopped yet, being the youngest on the team and all. A “kid” to them.

One strike and you were out, they warned you some years ago, but did you listen?

No, that’s why you were standing in an evacuated airport with Steve and the sensible half of the gang. Guard up, morale down...but you suppose that your expectations were the same.

“Y/N, you really need to rethink this one before it’s too late.” Tony had warned you, but you were so goddamned sick of being warned. You knew exactly what you were doing and you were not going to be stopped, it was time for them to stop pretending like you needed constant guidance.

“Do I, Tony?” You crossed your arms and tapped your foot on the pavement, just on the verge of snapping. “Have some faith in me, why don’t you? Who’s got a better track record of thinking things through: me or you?”

“Seriously, kid, you’re putting everything in jeopardy.” He sounded serious, that was new. “If you get stuck on the wrong side of this, it’s no more avenging for you.”

“Is that a threat?” You raised your eyebrows as Steve glanced at you, making sure that you weren’t having second thoughts. Yeah, right.

“That’s a promise.” Tony honestly looked a little scared. He should be. “Do you remember how hard it was to get you on the team? You were a child—still are, might I add! They said you didn’t belong out here, we said you did. I’m beginning to regret that now.”

“You’re saying they’re gonna demote me?” Could he tell you were stalling? Oof, guess you’ll know soon enough.

“Demote you?” Tony repeated back. “I wish that were it, y/n. You’re gonna get canned, blacklisted. They’re gonna make your life a living hell. You really want to give it all up now? You’ve come so far, don’t throw it all away over Steve’s sentiment.” You’d heard enough of that, now it was time to lose your cool.

“This isn’t all about helping Steve,” you told him while raising your fists, ready to cause some chaos, “I’m sick of taking the fall for you.” Tony rolled his eyes and finally called for backup.

“Underoos!” A blur of red flew in front of you and Steve, disarming your counterpart before the kid rambled an introduction that sounded a bit...off.

“Are you kidding me, Tony? You give me shit for being a kid and then recruit a twelve year old?” You groaned and watched the kid’s masked eyes get wide. “Don’t correct me, bugboy, I don’t care.”

“Yeah, well, he’s on my side so I’m cutting him some slack.” Tony justified his reasoning as you waited just a few more seconds for Scott to get into position.

“That’s enough, are we ready yet? This is starting to get boring.” And then all hell broke loose as Steve got free of webs, Scott threw the first punch, and the rest of your teams took off. That was your chance to strike Tony with a bolt of lightning in an attempt to shut down his suit, but he always had contingencies.

“Nice one, y/n, but I installed a surge protector after the last time!” Tony blasted at you with his repulsors set to stun, only missing you by a hair.

“Oh, yeah? You get one for Rhodes, too?” You asked, switching your aim to the War Machine armor and overloading it until it shut down.

“Seriously, Tony? You didn’t think to upgrade mine, too?” Rhodey groaned while rushing to reboot.

“Get over it!” Tony bickered as you ran by, booking it for the Quinjet. “Vision, don’t let y/n get away!” And then the android was flying towards you.

“I can’t let you go any further, y/n.” He informed, blocking your path and giving you a moment to catch your breath. “It’s not too late to change sides. You could help us all stay together. After all, that’s what we all want.” You took a glimpse behind you at all of your feuding loved ones who were beating each other senseless and although you hated to see it, you would not be backing down so easily.

“I’m not risking innocent lives to stay roommates.” You gave him a quick jolt that’d incapacitate him just long enough for you to escape his grasp, but it wasn’t long before the team called upon you for help.

“Y/N, I need backup!” Steve called over the comms.

“On my way, Cap!” You doubled back and met up with the rest of your team, knowing that this battle had only begun. You looked down the line of allies you had and looked across to allies you’d lost, knowing that this day would change your life forever.

“You guys ready?” You sighed, charging up your fists and deciding on a target.

“Ready for what?” Scott asked as the two lines of super-people began to converge. “Oh, that.” You all picked up the pace and you decided to take the fight to the kid since he’d been causing enough trouble.

“Woah! What was that for?!” He yelped when you gave him a little shock and rubbed is arm. “Am I gonna have a heart attack?”

“You’ll be fine,” you scoffed, still ready to strike again if need be, “and it’s just business, kid. Tony should have known better than to get you involved.”

“Well, Mr. Stark made me this really cool suit, so I’m not complaining.” He shrugged before shooting a web from each wrist, but he’d regret it just as quickly as he acted since you accidentally sent two charges back up the web, sending him flying back.

“Oops...” You covered your mouth and watched to make sure he got back up, or maybe you did give him a heart attack. No, he was getting back up. “Are you good?” You called over.

“Yeah, I’m good!” He gave you a thumbs up and crouched over to catch his breath.

“Just walk it off, kid!” You reused some old advice and were suddenly called on by the person who gave it.

“Y/N, it’s now or never!” You swiveled your head to see Steve and Bucky make a break for it and decided that it was time for you to do the same, so you ran straight past the kid and tried to keep up with the two super soldiers. Thankfully, Wanda gave you a boost so you didn’t get left behind. After Natasha let you past, you and just two of your teammates made it out of there. At least some of you did.

—————

You stood your ground against Tony as he lit up his repulsors, trying to get a clear shot of Bucky or Steve.

“Y/N, you haven’t thought this through at all!” Tony argued with you, trying to get you to see it from his poing of view. “I promise you it’s not too late to turn this all around. I’ll tell Ross you were my double agent or something, anything to keep you from getting thrown in the Raft!” You glanced back at Steve, who was buying into Tony’s rant more than you were.

“He’s right, y/n.” Steve lowered his shoulders some. “I can’t drag you down any more, you can’t come back from this.” You gulped, feeling as something were stuck in your throat. You didn’t think that this battle would lead you here.

“After everything I did to help you, you want to leave me with him?” You asked with tears beginning to brim in your eyelids.

“I don’t want to abandon you, that’s the last thing I’d want to do.” Steve explained. “But I know that Tony’s telling the truth, he won’t let them hurt you. If you get caught with us, they’ll know you’re guilty and you might never come back from it. I can’t let you give it all up for us.” You looked back to Tony, who agreed with Steve for once.

“I’ll make it go away. And I won’t hold it against you, okay? You made me proud, even if you were a pain in the ass.” His hand was still aimed towards Bucky, but you’d yet to budge. This was a big decision you’d have to make. Switching sides just for a bailout? And then Tony’s aim switched to the opposite side of you, just before you felt a hand rest on your shoulder.

“You’d be doing me a favor by keeping yourself in Ross’s good graces, how about that?” Steve tried to reason. “I need you to stay safe, you won’t be safe with us.” You bit down on your tongue and took a deep breath, realizing that you’d have to take the easy way out of this one. You lowered your guard and gave everyone in the vicinity a moment of peace of mind.

“You two are both impossible.” You hung your head and relaxed your tense muscles, knowing that this was no longer your fight.

“Glad you finally realize that, no go wait in the Quinjet.” Tony instructed, patiently waiting for you to leave the blast zone before the three of them got to work. It was about to get much more messy than it did at the airport, they’d rather you miss this part. And even if it broke your heart, they had to do what was best for you. Apparently, it was never too late to start.

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flooffybits · 3 years

Text

What Could Have Been

Idol: Jennie Kim (Blackpink), Park Chaeyoung (Blackpink) ft. Kim Yoohyeon (Dreamcatcher) & Jung Jinsoul (Loona)

@pricknim: Hey there Floof! I was wondering if you could write a sequel to "When Actions Speak Louder" 👀. I really really enjoyed it, the angst was just the perfect amount, but I was lowkey hoping to see how Y/N, Jennie and Rose cope with the breakup. I just need to know, if Y/N managed to get their happy ending in the end TT *hint hint ;)* Also, I hope you are doing fine and stay hydrated :D

Part 1 is here

☕buy me a coffee☕

Jennie stared at the screen, feet swinging slightly as she watched her girlfriend wrap up her performance for the day. She wore a small smile on her face, feeling incredibly proud of the latter for her solo.

She knew just how difficult it was to promote without the rest of the girls, but they always did have each other. However, that thought had caused her smile to drop when she remembers the lack of presence inside the room.

Looking around, her gaze jumped from each of the staff’s faces as they busied around the room, fixing their equipment while some were happily watching the Australian’s performance with proud looks on their own faces.

When she looked to the couch you and Chaeyoung had previously occupied when she was promoting Solo, a slight sting came to her chest when the memories came flooding in. She didn’t know that she would ever be with either of you at the time, but it was right after that certain performance when her entire world lit up when you had both asked her if she would be alright with going out with you guys.

That was two years ago.

She had forced herself out of those thoughts, letting out a sigh as she refocused on the present. It’s been nearly a year since she’s last talked to you and while it was easy not having to be in the same vicinity as you, it was different when your face was just about everywhere.

While your group wasn’t promoting at the moment, you had been quite active with solo schedules. And while Chaeyoung has stopped trying to get a hold of you, Jennie has been keeping up to date with the things going on in your life, even if it was just from an outsider’s perspective.

She misses the good morning texts and the late night calls. And even when Chaeyoung refuses to even talk about you, she can see it in her girlfriend’s expression that she misses you, too. The only difference was that Chaeyoung decided that there was no dwelling on the past because it was you who let go of them.

But Jennie had taken a step back to understand just why everything ended the way it did.

They have neglected you. And what you told them that day was partially true. They had gotten so used to having you to fall back to that it didn’t seem like a relationship at all when it came to you.

And if she were to admit, it did look like you were only a bridge for her and Chaeyoung to have gotten together.

And she hated it.

When the realization dawned on her, Jennie felt sick to her stomach and she couldn’t find it in herself to look at Chaeyoung for a few days. And if the latter hadn’t stopped her, the entire relationship would have ended then and there.

She wonders why Chaeyoung didn’t fight for you the way she fought for her.

But Jennie doesn’t let herself wander farther away because her girlfriend was already bounding into the room with a wide smile stretched across her face, and Jennie can’t help but smile at the adorable expression that the younger girl wore.

“You did a great job, Rosie!” She praised, using a tissue to lightly pat her girlfriend’s forehead from the sweat that had built up on her skin after her performance. “You looked really great out there.” She adds and the younger girl giggled as she pecked her cheek. ”Well my baby was watching, of course I had to look good.”

Chaeyoung pressed another kiss to her cheek before she had to step away, retouch her makeup just so she didn’t look too tired for the announcing of the winner.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Jennie hears before she’s tearing her gaze away from her phone. Chaeyoung offers her a small smile when she takes the seat next to her and the brunette hums softly before shaking her head. “I doubt my thoughts are worth a tiny penny.” She jokes and the taller of the two let out a snort before giving her a playful push.

“Then don’t tell me.” She chuckled and Jennie felt a little lighter with how carefree they could be at that moment. Ever since what happened with you, they’ll admit that their relationship had been rocky, but thankfully they were able to talk through whatever new issues arose.

Jennie went quiet for a while before she rubbed her arm, sighing as she finally spoke. “What made us so different?”

Of everything Chaeyoung expected to come from her girlfriend’s mouth, that was certainly not one of them.

“What do you mean? Who are you talking about?” Chaeyoung asked confusedly and Jennie pursed her lips, unsure how the other would react, but asked anyway. “Y/n. Why was it so easy to let go of her, but not me?”

The name had caused the younger girl to stiffen in her place and Jennie internally cringed when she saw the way her girlfriend’s expression hardened when she looked down. “Why are you bringing that up?” Chaeyoung muttered quietly and Jennie sighed in frustration.

“I know that it’s been months, and maybe you’ve moved on, but I just… I loved her, too. Maybe I still do.” She breathed out while running her fingers through her hair. “Why couldn’t you have fought for her to stay?” She asked, and Chaeyoung hates how her voice sounded so strained, so tired.

Deep down, she knew it was her fault though. Not having you around as much as she wanted, Chaeyoung prioritized Jennie and she devoted all of her time to the latter when she knew that she should have at least tried.

And she knows that she’s guilty. That was why she didn’t see herself having the right to stop you from walking out the door or asking you to come back to them.

“It was for the best.” She knows it’s bullshit, but Jennie wasn’t going to accept that answer, and she knows. “Y/n was right. We were drifting apart, and there wasn’t anything we could have done about it.”

“Bullshit. You’ve been together before I came into the picture, and I could see you were both doing fine.” Jennie retorted with a frown and Chaeyoung frowns, lips pressed together as she leaned back. “Things weren’t working, Jennie. You know that, she knows that. Can’t we just let it go?”

But Jennie wasn’t done. She wanted to know the truth, and she was determined to get it.

“Did you not love her anymore?”

Chaeyoung’s mouth went dry at the question and she clenched her jaw and inhaled sharply, an indication that her girlfriend had, in fact, hit a nerve. “Jennie, pleas-”

“I want to know, Chaeng. You can tell me that you’re done with it, but I’m telling you right now that there hasn’t been a day that I don’t hope to fix what we had.” Jennie stated firmly and the younger girl stared down at her hands as she laid them on her lap.

“Of course not… I never stopped loving her.”

As quiet as her voice may have been, it was enough for Jennie to hear.

“Are you ready to go?” Jennie asked while fixing the strap of her bag on her shoulder and Chaeyoung nibbled on her lower lip before nodding her head. “It’s been a while since we’ve gone out. I just hope people can leave us in peace.” She sighed while fixing her mask on and then pocketing her wallet.

As risky as it was to head out, the girls needed a break, and luckily there would be no questions asked if the pair was ever spotted outside. They just needed some air and felt as though they were still humans and not robots.

“We’ll be fine. Plus, the place isn’t going to be crowded, I know a lot of other idols hang out there for some privacy.” Jennie assures with a smile. And even with the mask covering the lower part of her face, the way her eyes crinkle and her cheeks rise is enough of an indication for it.

Ever since their talk, it looked like things were a little easier for the two of them. Despite the nagging feeling at the back of her head, Chaeyoung had been more open with herself. Whatever was going through her mind, she could easily come to her older girlfriend without hesitation anymore.

So giving themselves a chance, the pair decided that a little date outside the dorm would be a good idea.

Though as soon as they arrived, there seemed to already be a handful of people in the area. However, seeing as no one approached either of them yet, the pair proceeded to the counter to place their orders. “I’ll go save us a seat.” Chaeyoung offered when she looked around, wanting to pick a more comfortable and private area, and Jennie nodded her head, beaming.

“Sure thing. I’ll be sure to call you if I need help.” The older of the two chuckled, playfully shooing her girlfriend away and Chaeyoung walks off to reserve themselves a seat. Though as soon as she walks away, the bell above the entrance rings once more and in walked two figures, dressed a little more casual compared to the two Blackpink members.

They linger at the front for a while, looking both giddy and excited, yet there was a nervous glint in their eyes. Exchanging a quick word, confirming each other’s orders, the taller of the pair went to find a table, whilst the brunette walked over to the counter, standing behind Jennie to wait for her turn.

Jennie really should know that eavesdropping wasn’t a good thing. She’s scolded her members countless times when they would do it, either at the company or at award shows. But it was impossible for her not to hear what the woman behind her was saying as soon as she answered her phone.

“Hi!” The brunette cheered happily. “Don’t worry about it! We just got to the cafe, too, so don’t stress.” The girl said dismissively as they took another step forward when another customer had finished with their order.

“Just tell me what you want and I’ll get it for you. It’s our treat, remember?” The woman’s voice was a bit husky, yet it was nice to listen to. “I know that you like f/d but I thought that you might like something else - cheesecake, muffin…” The girl had drawled out and there’s a bit of a giggle as their conversation went on.

At the mention of your favorite drink, Jennie let out a sigh, the nostalgic feeling rising when she remembers how you were always seen with one in your hands. Basically everyone knew how much you loved that drink and it worried her how you needed more water in your system instead.

“Okay, I’ll see you soon.”

Jennie isn’t sure what compelled her to talk, but for some reason, the words just fell out of her mouth. A lingering effect you had on her, she thinks. “You know, that’s a really good pick.” She had glanced behind her, only to blink at the familiar looking face.

Though it looked like the girl knew who she was as well, if the panic and awe wasn’t a big give away. “Jennie sunbaenim!” The girl squeaked out and said idol smiled politely while waving her hand. “Have we met somewhere? You seem really familiar.”

The girl cleared her throat, plastering on a smile and laughing lightly. “I, um, we haven’t, but my name is Jinsoul, I’m a member of a girl group called Loona.” Jinsoul introduced herself and Jennie understood why she was so familiar.

The group had been rising in the industry and she remembers an article of both groups together. Though there were far too many of them for her to recall names and faces, she knows that she’s heard the name before.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Jinsoul. Also, you seem to have really great taste.” She compliments, but the younger girl merely grinned and shook her head. “Ah, no the drink isn’t for me.” She explains before Jennie notices the slight blush on her cheeks. “I’m here with… friends.”

The way she speaks makes Jennie feel even more nostalgic. She remembers the shyness of having to hide your relationship when people often asked her and Chaeyoung who they were with. Dating someone of the same sex, more so being in a polyamorous relationship, wasn’t exactly welcomed in South Korea.

And with how Jinsoul spoke and acted, it was clear to Jennie that she was with someone who was more than just a friend.

“Ah, friends.” Jennie chuckled, causing the girl’s blush to worsen as she nodded her head. “Well, I hope you and your friends enjoy your date.” She winks and Jinsoul grins bashfully before nodding her head, letting Jenine go as the older idol went to order her and her girlfriend’s food.

The bell of the entrance rings again and you walk in with a slight huff, shrugging off your coat as you look around. But your eyes stop on a blonde woman happily waving her hand, her entire face lighting up at the sight of you that a few of the other patrons of the cafe can’t help but look over.

One of them being the Park Chaeyoung who sat a good two tables away. But with her choosing a little more secluded area, you had completely missed her as you jogged over to the waving woman.

“I missed you!” The blonde exclaimed and you giggle when she rises to her feet to wrap you in her embrace, one you happily return. “Hey, you’re the one with the booked schedules!” You shot back as you placed your coat behind one of the chairs and then took a seat, the taller woman having yet to let go of your hand.

You’re unaware of the eyes boring into the side of your head. “I watched your concert, by the way.” You chirped and the other blushes at the mention of it, a pout forming on her face. “So you saw me crying?” She asks and you offer her a light smile. “There’s nothing wrong with crying, Yoohyeon.” You assure her with a squeeze of her hand. “I’ve cried during performances, too. And it was honestly nice to see just how much you care for your members.”

The girl is whining when you shower her with more praises and Chaeyoung isn’t sure how much more she can witness. She’s just a little relieved that Jennie’s come to save her sanity, though confused when she sees the slight smile on her girlfriend’s face.

“They weren’t lying when they said that this was famous for idols.” The shorter woman said as she placed their number on the table and then set her bag down. “I just met someone from that group, Loona? She was really nice.” She says, failing to notice the distracted look on her girlfriend’s face.

It was only when she sat down did she notice how the light haired female’s eyes were looking elsewhere. “What are you…” And when she followed her girlfriend’s line of sight, she felt her throat grow dry and her own eyes widened when they rested on your familiar figure.

She felt herself about to move, but she had to pause when Jinsoul came bounding over to join your table, wrapping her arms around you from behind and pressing a kiss to your cheek, one that made you giggle, eyes disappearing as you smiled back at the pair that sat with you.

“You’re here!” She had a childlike glee on her face at the sight of you, matching the one Yoohyeon was already wearing. “I did say I would try to hurry up. Jihyo wouldn’t stop pestering me until I promised them I’d bring home something for them.” You say with a laugh and the other two grin at your remark.

“Well, we can decide what to get them after. Right now, it’s the three of us!” Yoohyeon chirped, having yet to let go of your hand and you nod your head. “Of course. I missed the two of you and I’m just glad that we can finally hang out again.”

“You know, we don’t have to keep waiting for weeks if you just, you know…” There’s a teasing lilt to Jinsoul’s voice and Yoohyeon gives the girl a light shove while you bite your lip to stop the laugh that’s threatening to fall from your lips while your exes could only watch from afar.

They know that you don’t mean it. Hell, you didn’t even know they were there, what more watching you interact with two other idols who seemed to be far more interested in you than simple friends.

“What? You and I know that we’ve been meaning to ask, and you know that I’m going to ask whenever I can.” Jinsoul giggles as she reaches to pinch your cheek affectionately while Yoohyeon lets out a sigh. “You couldn’t have been subtle about it?”

“You can’t be subtle, babe.” That made the blonde whine, giving her girlfriend a pout and you can’t help smiling at their antics. “I’m going to have to side with Jinsoul on that one. You can’t lie to save your life, Yooh.” That caused the girl’s pout to deepen as she released your hand to cross her arms, sulking as you both cooed at her cute display.

Chaeyoung had enough. She just wanted to get up, walk up to you, leave, something. But for some reason she felt like she was glued to her chair, forced to watch as you acted as though everything was alright.

But you weren’t pretending.

You genuinely seemed to like these two girls and you didn’t even know she and Jennie were just somewhere nearby. And judging by how Jennie’s conversation with Jinsoul went, she’s making the assumption that you didn’t tell these girls about your past relationship.

“Whatever, but back to what Jinsoul said.” Yoohyeon tries to brush away her embarrassment by returning to the original topic and you let out a little smile. “You guys know that-”

“We know that you said you were scared.” Jinsoul cut you off, her expression thoughtful as she placed a hand on yours. “But I promise you, we won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.” She says softly. “I know you’re still wary since your past relationship, but we promise you that it’s never going to be like that.” Yoohyeon assures with a smile that melts your heart, but it somehow makes Jennie’s and Chaeyoung’s hearts sink.

You stare at the two, still looking unsure, and Jinsoul notices when she laced her fingers with yours. “We can keep waiting, if that’s what you want.” Her voice is soft, gentle and comforting, as her thumb runs against the side of your hand. “Even if you decide that you don’t want to be together, then that’s fine, too.” Yoohyeon says while she cupped your cheek, her gaze warm and tender.

“We care about you and that’s never going to change. If there’s a problem, then we’ll talk it out, right?” Jinsoul nods in agreement with her girlfriend as you have yet to say anything, and to be honest, Chaeyoung silently wishes that you refuse their offer.

She knows that she has no right, but she’s hoping that somewhere deep down that you still thought about her and Jennie even with how badly things ended between you. Because even with all that, there was still some good in your relationship before it all went to shit.

Jennie chewed on her lower lip as she tried to desperately look away, but even when her heart was telling her - screaming at her to stop and save herself the heartache, her mind was was stubbornly forcing her to watch just so she doesn’t have to keep feeding herself false hope of being able to get you back.

And sometimes she hated it.

“But what about our members?” You ask, and the two people you were with seemed somewhat relieved that you didn’t shut the idea out quickly like you used to. It gave them the reassurance that there really wasn’t anything wrong with them, but your own fears holding you back.

“Well, the girls love you already, and we met because of Dami and Gahyeon.” Yoohyeon says with a tiny smile, making you giggle because if it wasn’t for the maknae of her group, she’s not sure she would have had the courage to actually come and see you.

“Chuu is in love with you, no questions asked. Haseul adores you, too, because you actually have the capacity to tolerate the kids and keep up with their energy.” Jinsoul says with a grin. “The only people who haven’t properly talked to you yet are Hyunjin and Choerry, but the girls are fans so I doubt that they won’t like you.” She says encouragingly.

“The only thing left is what your members will say.” They add and Yoohyeon purses her lips, only then looking a bit worried. “I know they’re protective of you because of your past, but if they want to talk…” She trails off, letting her girlfriend finish for her. “We can come whenever they want. Even if we have a schedule, we can arrange things to meet them.”

You sat quietly while mulling over their words, four people holding their breaths for two different reasons.

“I mean… I guess we can try.” You finally say with a hint of a smile and Jinsoul’s entire face lights up significantly while Yoohyeon let out the breath she had been holding, though her smile is shy compared to her partner. “Really?”

Your giggle had felt like a knife to the heart for Chaeyoung and she was finally able to pull her eyes away and look at her girlfriend, the pain only growing stronger when she saw the tears Jennie was trying to hold back. If they were anywhere else, she would have already gone and comforted the other woman, but seeing how she refused to look away from your smiling face, she wasn’t sure just what exactly it was she was supposed to do.

Despite it being months, you left a print in their lives, and there would be no changing that.

“We don’t have to tell them right away, but you did let them know that you wanted to ask me out.” You explain with a meaningful look on your face. “As small as that was, they really appreciated the gesture. But Nayeon unnie, Jeongyeon unnie, Jihyo and Chaeyoung aren’t too fond of the idea of me dating again.”

“And we get that. The best we can do is just to prove to them that we won’t hurt you, at least not intentionally. In the event that we do something wrong, we’ll fix it and improve.” Jinsoul states seriously. “It might be a little early, but we promise, we’ll do the best we can to make you happy. Because that’s what really matters.”

You can’t help smiling at the two as you nodded your head, an answer seemingly made in your head as you looked at the two smiling girls. “Then I’ll hold you guys to that.”

Unable to hold their excitement, Jinsoul let out a squeal as both, her and Yoohyeon got out of their seats to trap you into the tightest hug they could both muster, drawing laughter out of your lips as you returned their embrace, breaking your exes’ hearts even more.

“Jennie…” Chaeyoung tried to reach for her girlfriend’s hand, but the latter pulled away, just in time for the waitress to bring their food and she forced a polite smile whilst the Aussie stared down at the table, muttering a quiet thank you before a silence hung over them.

Despite the day starting off on a good note, the sight of you with someone new made the whole thing turn around. Whatever progress the two made, it all came flying out the window the moment you made an appearance and they aren’t sure what to make of it.

But the three of you don’t stick around too long, part of your new girlfriends’ plans on making sure that the chance you had given them would be the best decision you’ve made and that they wouldn’t take it for granted.

Though as you all exited the establishment, you were a little surprised to meet the once familiar pair of eyes that felt like home and the hunched over figure sitting in front of her. While Jennie’s face was curtained by her hair, you knew already that it was her, and with the way Chaeyoung looked, it dawned on you that they were there to witness this new chapter in your life.

And to your surprise, she offers you a pained yet small smile. And while it would usually make your heart clench, you could only muster a kind smile, silently promising her that things will get better for both of them.

They’re left mending the space you left behind whilst you were already on your way to recovering with two people who would make sure to keep your heart whole.

And for the first time, you didn’t feel like it was your fault for picking yourself before them.

229 notes · View notes

stylesluxx · 4 years

Text

imprint (II) – p.lahote

[warnings: angst?? and minor swearing]

summary: in which y/n thinks it’s just the imprint talking | part one | next part

word count: 3,740

masterlist

You shakily lifted your hand and knocked on Jacob's door. If you were in your right mind, you would've just walked in but you didn't want to feel like an intruder twice in one day.

The door opened and you greeted your childhood friend with a forced smile while looking at him through your wet eyelashes. The rain had started as soon as you were out of Paul's sight and with no warning drizzle, it just started pouring. But you were grateful because you knew Jacob wouldn't be able to tell apart the tears from the raindrops.

"Y/N, what are you doing here? You're soaked! And whose ugly brown shirt is that?" He interrogated as he took your hand, pulling you inside. "Why did you knock? Where's your key?"

You sighed at his questions, not wanting to exert the energy it took to answer them. You slipped off your shoes, leaving them on the mat whilst Jacob shut the door behind you.

"Are you okay?" He asked, picking up on the fact that none of his questions got answered and you were eerily silent. You stayed silent and just looked at him for a moment, thankful that you had someone you could always run to no matter what. "Alright, if you're just gonna be mute, I'm gonna go get you some sweatpants. I know those jeans are uncomfortable-"

"I just- I just needed to be with you. You're my friend. My brother. By choice. Right?" You cut him off with a faint voice as your lip started to tremble and your eyes began to water all over again. You knew you looked pitiful and feeble but you just needed the reassurance.

"Where's this all coming from, Y/N? Is it Paul? I told you he was bad new-"

"Right?"

He sighed once more and pulled you into a hug, not bothered by your damp body, "right. I choose you. Every time."

You nodded and slowly wrapped your arms around his waist, your hold tight. You held him as if he'd disappear right from your arms. It grounded you.

"Come on, let's change you out of these clothes."

—

You didn't show up to school until Thursday. You needed a break from everything and you weren't ready to be in the same vicinity as Paul just yet. As soon as you got home from Jake's house, Saturday evening, you turned your phone off. You wanted to just disconnect and spend some time with your thoughts.

Maybe you were being too dramatic. Maybe the imprint was a good thing. It was an easy way to find your soulmate, that's for sure, but you couldn't get over the thought that Paul wouldn't have even bothered with you had it not been for him phasing. And while you were debating the imprinting business, you were also trying to process that someone you knew could transform into a huge wolf. It shouldn't be humanly possible, however, you saw it with your own eyes. You honestly wanted to believe that it was all just a dream and you'd wake up and everything would be back to normal. You don't know where you wanted to start over: before Paul even knew you existed or before Paul told you he was a shifter. You wanted a life with Paul. But you wanted a life where Paul chose you.

On Tuesday, you were resting on the couch, binge-watching Criminal Minds, when you were interrupted but knocks at the door. You quietly got up, despite the soreness of your body, and looked through the peephole. Your breath hitched as your eyes caught sight of Paul. You frowned and backed away from the door as quietly as you could and returned to your spot on the couch.

It seemed as if your body thought you were rejecting him and the aching in your chest only grew. You curled into a ball and pulled a blanket over your body, trying to push the image of Paul to the back of your mind while you continued to watch tv. The knocking continued as well as huffs and comments like: "Y/N, I know you're in there."

He finally gave up around 5:30 PM, having been there since school got out. You heard the engine of his truck when he started it up and soon the sound lessened as he pulled out of your driveway and drove down the street. The further he was from you, the more your body ached, and the harder it seemed to breathe. You'll admit, the time you spent with Paul was as easy as breathing, but now if you felt like you were being suffocated. It seemed like you were in the cold ocean, your head bobbing up and down trying not to drown.

And though you told Paul you could be friends, you still needed time and space to process everything. You didn't want to rush to be with him right away just to end up swimming in the misery of your thoughts. And your misery doesn't love company; you don't enjoy spreading your misery with others.

So you ignored Paul and your friends when they came to check up on you on Wednesday.

On Thursday morning, you dragged yourself out of bed despite the soreness and tautness that filled your body, while preparing to be interrogated by your friends. You arrived at school in a pair of leggings and Paul's (now clean) brown shirt and saw the group standing on the steps leading up to the school, chatting amongst each other. And even though Embry was standing right there, it seemed like he was on a different planet. He was brooding, his arms were crossed over his chest, and he wasn't engaging in the conversation. He didn't even flinch when you walked over to them.

"Y/N, we've been trying to call you! Where've you been?" Ashley asked, hauling you into a hug. "You left me with these three idiots for three whole days!"

"Sorry, I, uh, turned my phone off for a couple days. Think it's still off if I'm being honest," You responded and pried yourself out of her death grip.

"We went to your house yesterday, but I guess you were sleeping and your parents weren't home. Jake wasn't lying when he said you were a heavy sleeper," Quil spoke up from next to Embry.

You nodded and glanced over at Embry to see he was now glaring at the ground, refusing to speak.

"Yeah, guess I am," You nodded, going along with their assumptions.

"Paul asked about you. Said he went by on Tuesday but he didn't get an answer either," Ashley added on, her eyes narrowing on you in concern.

"That was nice of him," You coughed and let your eyes fall to your feet while you scratched the back of your head.

"And this shirt again? Since when did you like the color brown?" Jacob scoffed, critiquing Paul's shirt yet again. "Whose shirt even is that?"

"Uh, it doesn't matter. But I'll see you guys inside, alright?" You changed the topic and pushed past them, walking through the main doors and to your locker.

You got the notebooks and textbooks you needed from your locker, before sighing and letting your shoulders fall in dread. You shut your locker and walked over to Paul's, which was down the hall. You were appreciative of this distance because it gave you a chance to prepare yourself. You weren't sure if you were ready to face Paul just yet, but you knew you knew you had to for the sake of your friend. Embry's brooding reminded you of Paul's before he disappeared and you vaguely remembered how Jared was before he too went on a leave of absence.

Jared spotted you before Paul did, making him tap his arm and point toward you.

Paul turned around and his confused and worried expression turned into one of relief but there was still worry in his voice.

Your aches and sores seem to instantly dissipate once you were in his presence and face to face. First, your body relaxed, and then your chest released all the tension you were holding in. And as soon as your body calmed, your heart started to beat erratically. You'd blame it on his beauty but you hadn't even looked at him for longer than a second. Maybe it was his cologne or just his aura, or maybe it was just the imprint thing.

"Hey," You greeted him awkwardly, your eyes cast toward the ground.

"Y/N, where have you been these last couple days? I came by your house and didn't get an answer. I even asked your friends if they knew anything, but you were ignoring everyone. You can't do things like that, Y/N," He scolded you, the concern laced in his words.

"Yeah, sorry, I just needed-" You started but then remembered why you were even talking to him in the first place. "You told me to tell you if one of the boys seemed off."

"Yeah, and?"

"Well, Embry seems off. I just thought I'd let you know. I'll see you in class," You expressed before starting to back away and go to first period.

"You're wearing my shirt," He noticed, a small smile playing on his lips.

"I'll see you in class, Paul."

—

The rest of the week goes by fairly quickly, but to be fair, it was only two days. Embry was absent on Friday which you figured would happen, so you didn't get to see Paul, and your body was slowly starting to crave him again. You were starting to tense up and the aching and emptiness in your chest were making a reappearance.

You saw how your parents looked at you when you trudged down the steps and into the kitchen. Their faces displaying worry and pity, so you figured you'd do something about it, just so they wouldn't have to worry.

But you were also doing it for yourself. You missed Paul. It was weird for you not to talk to and see someone that you were so used to talking and seeing every day. It's not like Paul didn't try to reach out and talk to you, because he did, you were just being stubborn. He texted every day to make sure you were alright and the only reason he wasn't banging on the door, threatening to tear it down, was because you left your read receipts on (the only thing that indicated you were still breathing).

You didn't want to be a bother because you knew he would be helping Embry all weekend, but you needed to at least see him.

You got in your Jeep and drove to the address Paul had texted you a few weeks ago, the day you shared your first kiss.

"If you ever need me, go to this address. I'll text it to you. They'll know where I am and how to reach me," He said while sending the text.

"Is this your house?" You asked him.

"No, well," He shook his head and sighed. He turned to look at you, still contemplating what he wanted to say. "It's not where I live but it's my home. My home when I'm not around you."

"I see," You nodded and looked down shyly, realizing he considered you to be home.

It was a sweet notion that you reciprocated. You felt safe with him. He was always so sweet and never pushed you to do anything you weren't comfortable with; the complete opposite of the public's perception of him. He was always calm, rational, and considerate. Patient and understanding. Everything he did had a meaning behind it. He was flirty but he wasn't sleazy or lewd. And though he saw you as home, he still got nervous around you. He was still trying to do right by you as if he was still trying to prove himself worthy of you.

After school on Friday and in the afternoon on Saturday, you found two shirts messily placed on the driver's seat in your car. Friday, it was a black shirt and Saturday it was a white one. You thought it was weird to come out of school to a random t-shirt in your car, so you looked around trying to spot the culprit but with no luck.

You carefully picked up the shirt and smelled it, instantly melting. Your heartbeat sped up knowing it was Paul's shirt, the same black one he wore to the movies.

He was so thoughtful that it blew your mind. He wasn't at school that day but he still came by to bring you one of his shirts and he went out of his way to bring you on Saturday as well. He was everything and more and you started to feel bad about how you left things.

You pulled up in front of the small brown house, already amazed at the seclusion provided by the trees. You took a deep breath, got out the truck, and walked up the steps to the house. You took one more breath before reaching up and knocking on the hard part of the screen door. The main door was open, giving you a clear view of the kitchen and a woman by the stove.

She jumped in surprise at the knocking before walking over to the door, opening it to greet you.

"Hi, can I help you?" She asked as a smile graced her face.

She was stunning; copper skin like Paul's, dark brown, almost black, eyes that were sparkling with happiness, and jet black hair complemented by bangs. The right side of her face was scarred from where her hairline started to her jaw. Three jagged thick red lines, despite them being fully healed. You gulped once you realized it looked like scratch marks but you pushed the thought to the back of your mind.

"Sorry to bother, but is Paul in?" You asked and quickly decided to elaborate. "He said if I needed him, someone here would know where he was."

"You must be Y/N! Come in," She gasped and stepped back so she could usher you in. You walked in and gave her a soft smile. "Sit!"

The house was warm, much warmer than outside. You were wearing a grey long sleeve with Paul's black short sleeve on top and a pair of jeans. It would've been smart for you to bring a coat but you figured you were going to see Paul so you didn't need one.

You understood now why Paul thought of this as his second home. Besides the welcoming host, the house too was welcoming. You wanted to kick your shoes off and lay down for a nap after a huge meal or ling day at school. That was the vibe it gave you. You loved it. And if Paul loved it and he felt at home, then you loved it ten times more.

"I don't want to impose," You mumbled, already regretting your decision to come. Emily was nice and you were happy that she wasn't a grouch but despite her kindness and the homey feeling of the house, you still felt like an intruder. This wasn't the first time you were conflicted about how to feel about something pertaining to Paul.

"Nonsense! You're always welcome here. Now sit," She demanded softly, making you nod and listen. She offered food and drinks but you only asked for water to help calm your nerves. She poured you a glass before sitting at the table, in the seat directly across from you. "You're more beautiful than Paul described. I'm Emily, by the way. I already know so much about you, you're all Paul talks about."

"Oh, thank you," You said and let a small smile show on your face, the tenseness escaping for a second.

"Paul's out with Sam and Jared, helping out Embry. Embry's a friend of yours, right?"

"Yeah, he's like my little brother. How do you know the boys, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I don't mind at all! I'm engaged to Sam. He was the first to phase so he's been helping the other boys out. It's not a cult or... a gang like everyone thinks it is," Emily's smile turned into a frown at the end. "But they should be back any minute now.”

Her smile returned as you talked to her some more. She was someone that you never wanted to see upset. You never wanted to see anyone upset but you felt she was too unsullied to frown.

“Oh! Paul told me you enjoyed the spaghetti I made. Well, to be fair we both made it. He was really eager to learn how to make it,” She remembered up and you smiled at the memory of Paul nervously handing over the bowl.

“Yeah, the spaghetti was great. I was shocked he even brought some for me,” You nodded.

“Paul can be a real sweetheart when he wants to be,” She smiled and winked at you.

The screen door creaked open and three pairs of feet shuffled into the house. Your head snapped up, hoping to see Paul but you only saw Jared, Embry, and who you assumed was Sam, all shirtless. All three looked tired but Embry had bags under his eyes and looked beyond fatigued. While this wasn't much of an upgrade, he wasn't brooding anymore so you assumed he was gaining control over his shifting.

"Sam, Jared, this is Y/N," Emily introduced you two the two. "Y/N, this is Sam and Jared."

"I know Y/N; we've been going to the same schools since we were kids. I used to sneak her snacks from her lunch tray," Jared chuckled.

"Wow, so you were the asshole that was stealing my snacks? Figures," You scoffed playfully. "But it's nice to meet you, Sam."

"It's nice to finally meet the person Paul fills the mind link with," He smiled as his deep voice rang through the house, before leaning down to peck the top of Emily's head.

Sam was the biggest of the four boys in the pack. You didn't know if it was because he was four years older than them or if it was because he was the alpha. He was tall, 6'6", and had a tattoo like Paul and Jared that decorated his round and protruding muscles.

"Y/N, what're you doing here?" Embry questioned warily while shifting his eyes to look at Sam and Jared who were now seated at the wooden table.

"It's okay, Embry. She knows," Sam nodded, relieving Embry almost instantaneously.

"Oh good, I hated being away from you. And you're literally all Paul thinks about. Ya know, wolf telepathy. I thought you were obsessed with him. Tuh, have a peek into his mind," Embry rambled. Once he finished, he pulled out of your seat and into a hug.

"Um last time I checked, you guys were obsessed with him. Not me," You laughed and hugged him back.

"You done torturing him?" Jared teased immediately after biting into his banana that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. His words made you frown and bury your head into Embry's chest some more.

Despite phasing, gaining some muscle, and growing a little over Jacob's height, he was still your Embry. Long hair and tattoo-less but you weren't sure for how long. Emily was filling you in on all the small details about the wolves so you knew Embry would have to cut his hair short.

"Ignore him, Y/N. Paul should be coming in soon," Embry said and rubbed your back comfortingly.

"What about Paul?"

The voice made you shoot out of Embry's arms as the heat was settling throughout your body. It was your Paul and your body was happily reacting to being in the same space as him.

He walked around Embry and was ready to sit at the table when he spotted you, making his dark brown eyes gloss over in a mix of joy and admiration.

"Y/N!" He breathed out, still taken aback by your presence and the sight of you in another shirt of his.

Embry chuckled and moved by you to take your seat at the table.

"Hey," You whispered. You tried to look at the boy in front of you, but you only grew shy. "Can we talk?"

"Y-Yeah, of course," He nodded eagerly and held out a hand for you to take. You looked at it for a moment, hesitating, but you grabbed it and squeezed it tight. Now that he was in your grasp, you didn't want to let go. "We'll be back. Don't let Jared eat all the food, Sam," He said before walking out of the cozy house, taking you with him.

He led you into the trees, and it seemed like you're walking forever until you sat down on a log.

"Sorry we had to go so far, wolf hearing," He shrugged and kept his eyes on his fiddling hands that rested in his lap.

"And they know what you're thinking?" You curiously asked.

"I can... keep things to myself if I really wanted to. If I try really hard I can almost block out their thoughts as well; make them quiet," He tried to explain.

You just nodded and kept your eyes down, letting the silence surround you. It shouldn't be like this though. It shouldn't be awkward between you when before you couldn't stop talking to each other.

You felt your eyes fill with the predictable wetness, making you sigh, "it hurts to be away from you for too long. I literally can't breathe. I don't know if it's the imprint or separation anxiety but I need to be with you. The shirts aren't enough."

"Come here, Darling," He invited you, opening his arms for you to lean into which you happily obliged. "I just need you to understand: it's not only the imprint. You mean the world to me; spending all that time with you, you became my best friend. You're my everything. Even without the imprint, I'd feel the same way. The imprint doesn't make the relationship romantic. That was us."

You nodded and held him tightly as he pecked your head and rubbed your back gently.

"It's not just the imprint talking?"

"It's not just the imprint talking," He confirmed. "I choose you."

[AN: I was not expecting so many people to like the first part so it took me by complete surprise when I was being asked to make a part two !! also, I want to write more for this relationship, like blurbs because I think they’re so cute so let me know if that’s something you’re interested in. but thank you for all the love and support these past couple days, it means a lot. and my inbox is always always open if you need to talk, rant, laugh, or request anything. i'm so warm and fuzzy. k bye !]

[tags: @sana-li]

#stylesluxx #paul lahote #twilight #paul lahote imagine #twilight x reader #twilight imagine #wolf pack imagine #Paul Lahote angst #Paul lahote fluff #wolfpack #paul lahote x reader

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blueprint-han · 3 years

Text

ex.

↪ so many what if’s. who would give you those answers?

— where in you stumble into your ex at a friend’s wedding, and the subsequent conversation leads to new hope blooming in your relationship.

pairing: chan x reader

genre: ex au; angst with a fluffy ending.

⇥ warnings: themes/mentions of break up/make up, mentions of alcohol, please let me know if I miss a warning. please note that i, by no means condone any toxic relationships. this fic here with bang chan and Y/N is NOT an example of a toxic relationship or an implication of bang chan’s actions in real life. please take it as fiction.

word count: 3.3 K

type: one shot.

⇥ disclaimer: this fiction does not represent the activities of the real Bang Chan, nor is associated with JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

↯ note: I decided to merge your request with the prompt because it’s angst and guess who’s the queen of angst? You !! 😌 This was picked up from ex, as you can see and again your url ~vibes~ so uwu hope you enjoy it, this is my first time writing angst tho so please go easy on me. <3 Love you mom <333 ⇥ dawn.☀️

The dance hall’s fairly crowded when you take another shot of your martini, drowning in its essence as you make a desperate attempt to disconnect yourself from your vicinity. You wanna believe you’re drunk, though it’s not true in the slightest — you can still feel, hear, see everything around you clearly — the alcohol’s clearly not having its effect today. You wish, oh so dearly wish it did, because the man standing about two tables away from you really doesn’t deserve the attention you’re giving him right now.

The last thing you’d expected when you entered the hall to attend your friend’s wedding was to stumble right into the one man you’d been trying to avoid for the past two months. At that very moment, you cursed all the odds for making you face the man of your nightmares, the one who broke your heart.

Bang Chan.

Sure enough, just like when he’d dropped the news on you, all the butterflies in your stomach drop dead one by one, gloom and desolation taking over. The mere sight of him is enough to send you into a frenzy of confusion — you feel the flutter in your heart to know that he’s doing okay, but you can also feel that pit of sadness, anger and heartbreak mixed to wash over as one of the most conflicting feelings ever.

“O-oh, hi there, Y/N.” Chan had waved a hand and bowed down, but you shakily nodded your head, not bothering to give him any words of acknowledgement as you stumbled into the hall. How is it that you didn’t notice him until half the wedding was over? How could you forget that he was supposed to attend, because he was the bride’s friend alike?

Was it wrong that part of you still wished that you could be standing next to him, watching him as he introduced you to his friends, calling you “his girlfriend”?

You wondered what the look on Chan’s face would’ve been when you left his greeting hanging in the cold air like that. Was he broken on the inside too? Or did he simply not care? He’d been the one to end it, after all. He looks smart right now — adorning a luxurious black suit, his brownish hair slicked neatly to the side and parted. The delicate silver chain you’d given him on his birthday is oddly still on his neck — you promise yourself to not think about it much, because you know it’ll give you hope — and hope’s a dangerous feeling, at least for you.

When the music starts blaring through the speakers and the couple start dancing together, you sigh, straightening your posture from where you’re leaning against the shot table. Your friend has the prettiest smile plastered onto her face — it comes naturally to her, you figure, seeming as to how she’s married to the love of her life right now. They both seem lost — almost peaceful — as they stare into each other’s eyes. Soon, more and more couples join, until the whole hall is filled with everyone dancing on their heels, twirling and smiling and dancing gracefully. Everyone except you, of course.

You sigh, fixing the hem of your swan-white dress. Way to go for your mood to be ruined — all because you happened to stumble upon your ex boyfriend, and thoughts consumed you as a whole. Was it so wrong of you to wish that you could go back in time and change his decision? You’d moved on from this — you’d told yourself you’d moved on a month ago. You wiped him out of your memory — all the things that reminded you of him — but what if you’d only patched up the wound, not healed it in the slightest? What if the person who held the key to repair your broken heart was held by a person who you’d let go, and by all means, couldn’t reach out now?

So many what if’s. Who would give you those answers? He surely hadn’t, when all he did was just break it out to you over a meeting at the park that he’d fallen out of love with you.

You never understood what happened. It just started with the less frequent messages and meet ups, the excuse of always being busy, and that slowly morphed into him ignoring you for days, until one day he broke the news and ended it, on good terms. Or at least you thought so.

You sigh again, asking the bartender to lend you one bottle of the drink — which he does without question — before you walk over to the staircase that seems to lead to the terrace. Away from the risk of your eyes landing on him and your thoughts going all over the place again. If only you could walk away from the pit of emotions in your heart the same way. If only.

When you kick the almost rusted door open, the fresh blast of cold air that hits you makes you sigh in relief. You tuck several strands of hair neatly behind your ear, walking to the edge as you glance at the view. Leaning against the concrete, you let the lights coming from the night cityscape blur your vision, along with the faint, distant echoing of horns coming from the roads fill your ears. It’s a distraction, after all.

You pop open the cork of the bottle, letting the fizz bubble down before pressing your lips against the rim. One gulp, two, you then gaze up at the night sky. Rinse and repeat, until the whole bottle is almost finished. You ignore the void in your heart, filling it with the essence of alcohol and ignoring the feelings bubbling in it right now.

Chan was like a drug — so addicting and so hard to get rid of once you got into the habit of consuming it regularly. You wanted to reach out and hold onto those memories you shared with him — he was the first person where you let your heart do the talking, and all it took was a look at another person to change lanes, leave you alone in the dust of your crushed heart — only to come to the disappointing note that you’d lost those memories forever. They existed merely in a place you couldn’t reach, couldn’t see, but could only recall. It was pure torture to you, but you’d ignored it all for so long, certainly you could ignore it again.

“Need a refill?”

Your head snaps back in the direction of the voice. A familiar, one soothing voice that now brings pain to your heart, now threatens to bring back the wave of emotions you’d kept at bay.

Your eyes meet the hazel brown orbs, and not diverting from their strong, fierce gaze; you scoff, turning back around to stare off into the distance.

Chan frowns, tilting his chin as he tries to soothe the burn from your two reactions. He doesn’t back away though, because now he maybe understands what you felt like when it all fell apart, when he wrote your ending with a shaky hand.

He walks front to where you’re leaning against the concrete, silently drinking out of the glass he holds in his hand.

Should I say something? He thinks. He should, right? When you ended it, you did end on peaceful terms, even though your reaction felt like you were more affected by it. Even after three months, he still feels the warmth that flowed through him whenever he looks at you — you who clearly don’t want to speak to him. He feels crazy now, for wanting to let you go.

You hadn’t even bothered to curse at him that day — just looked at him with eyes that honestly pierced through his soul, and hurt him more than any of your words could’ve. But maybe that was what he deserved, right?

“Why did you come here?” You ask, swirling the almost empty bottle in your hand. Oddly enough, you don’t feel like walking away, feet frozen in position. You’d ended it on good terms, didn’t you? You’d promised to each other you’d be good friends.

“I noticed you were alone.” The man feels himself say.

“Didn’t you bring your girlfriend along? Isn’t she alone right now?” You counter, taking another sip of your drink. Again, the alcohol is having no effect on you. Why did your tolerance have to be so high when you needed it to be low?

“I-” He takes a deep breath, tilting his head to either side to relieve the tension in his neck. “Broke up with her. About three weeks ago.”

You only chuckle. Somehow, your feelings are strong when he’s away, but when the cause is right in front of you, somehow they fail to make an appearance.

“Did you come here so you could win me back?” You ask, straightening up as you avoid Chan’s firm gaze on you, and his face goes gloomier and gloomier with every statement you spew at him. But then again, who could blame you for being angry? You had every right to.

“No.” He shook his head, fixing his position so his shoulders are about an inch away from yours. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m alright.” You say, softening at the edges at his concerned tone. You don’t know why you’re listening to him and not going back into the hall, but your legs are still frozen in place, something in you, your heart, doesn’t let you move.

Why do you feel like it’s your first time meeting him all over again?

He’s your ex, a part of your life you’re supposed to forget. Instead, you’re here, reminiscing it with the very person who left you in the first place. The situation you’re bound in is so weird — you almost don’t know what to do — but nonetheless, you just stand there, ignoring the slight flutter in your heart — just like the first time again.

“How are you doing?” You give yourself the liberty to ask him that question — just to know how he’s doing. Just another way for you to answer your countless what if’s, another method to try and fill the void in your heart.

Chan sighs, straightening up himself before looking at you. “I missed you.”

At the simple admission, you soften around the edges some more. It was wrong, so wrong that you were giving him to permission to get into your heart again — but what if you never wanted him to leave in the first place?

Hope — the dangerous feeling — starts resonating through your chest. It’s the tiniest emotion, one you can’t quite sense, but still feel. You can feel yourself grow warm, feel his gaze burn into the side of your face as he awaits a reaction.

“I-I don’t know what to say to that.” You reply, tucking some of your hair behind your ear again, before curling it with your index finger. You don’t look into his eyes yet — you’re not so brave to do so — focusing your bored, almost sad gaze as you count all the lights flashing at you on a skyscraper. Anything to distract you from this feeling.

Chan notices your stare, and sighs again. He’s battling himself too, right now. Should I say it? He thinks.

“I-I’ll be honest and confess to you, okay?” Chan turns to face you properly, while you bite your lip, waiting for his next words. Oddly enough, you feel more nervous now than you felt that day when Chan ended it with you. It’s so weird to feel it all over again.

“I’ve missed you and… I truly regret what I did that day.” He runs his hands through his chocolate brown hair, which seems to look particularly soft today. It reminds you of when you’d casually back hug him when he was working, pecking the back of his neck as you’d comb your fingers through his hair.

“Chan, no.” You feel your voice crack, the sadness overflowing out of its cup, spreading to all your senses as you close your eyes, letting out a single tear.

“Y/N…” Chan places his hand on your shoulder. You don’t flinch.

“Y-You l-left me.” You feel your brain cloud over, having no control over yourself as the words start spilling out of your mouth, piercing Chan’s heart bit by bit. “Y-You l-left me when I thought you’d stay… And you left me alone.” You feel his thumb rub against the bare skin of your shoulder, and this time, you stare up, looking straight into his eyes.

“I loved you,” You stammer, inhaling deeply as you take note of Chan’s expression. Surprisingly, he’s crying too. The rims of his eyes are filled with tears, his whole face goes red as he tries not to violently sob. “I love you.” You correct yourself.

“But you left me. You left me when I thought all I had was you and - and, what? Three months later, you tell me you miss me? Is this because your girlfriend broke up with you? You wanna win me back?” You spew, slamming your hand against his chest as you shake in his arms.

He wordlessly pulls you into his embrace, and you don’t complain — you don’t know if it’s because of your brain being cloudy and your eyes being all itchy from crying, or if it was because you missed his hugs, but you feel yourself clutch onto the material of your shirt as you cry, cry and cry until you feel like your tears don’t remain.

“I’m so sorry…” Is all he can say, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as he tries to comfort you.

“I hate you, Chan. I hate you so much.”

Something in him shatters when he hears your words. He wordlessly mouths “Alright.” and doesn’t bother controlling his tears anymore, letting them flow down his cheeks and settle into your hair, not bothering to hold back the sounds of brokenness he makes either.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He pulls away, holding your chin to force your gaze into his eyes. “I shouldn’t have done that to you, it was so wrong of me. I regret it now, so much.” He curls his lips inwards, and watching him cry is soul-crushing. You should be hating him for leaving you, screaming, crying, but you hate yourself for reaching up to rake through his hair, sliding your hand down to his soft cheek before gently swiping your thumb against it. Wiping off his tears.

“We’ve already forgiven each other, right? It’s okay.” You take deep breaths to calm yourself down. Leaving him behind seems hard enough, but seeing him cry in front of you seems impossible. Are you still in love with him?

“I’m still sorry.” He mutters softly, gazing into your eyes as he takes hold of the hand that rests on his cheek. “I was so horrible to not know that I had you beside me all along, and instead I turned my back at you and left you. It was so wrong of me.” he breaks into tears again, and this time, before you can pull him into a hug, he grabs both your hands in his own. Holding them in between each other.

Yep, you’re still in love with him.

You look at him, absorbing all his features, and suddenly you’re thrown back to the first time he ever asked you out. It seems all too familiar — all too real. You find yourself holding your breath once again, waiting for what he has to say. He rests his forehead against your grasped hands, sighing brokenly as he speaks up.

“I won’t ask you to accept me again, Y/N.” He says as a matter of fact. He understands that the things that happened may not allow you to let him into your heart again. “I won’t ask you to date me either, because I know what I did isn’t that simple to forgive.”

Chan feels so stupid now. You were there for him all the time, yet he left you for someone else. You were beside him to help him when he felt desolated, but somehow he became a cause for your desolation. It shocks, confuses him and makes him seethe in turmoil.

“But,” he begins, holding his breath. “I still want to try. I wanna try being the person I couldn’t be when I was with you. I-I wanna change and win you back, b-but…”

“But?” You ask mindlessly, totally overwhelmed and dazed out by his honest words, the newfound emotion thrums to your chest. It’s love, for sure. But it isn’t that special kind of love, at least not yet.

“But I wanna do that only if you let me. It’s your choice, Y/N.”

Your eyes widen as you try to grasp his words, noticing how his warm hands holding onto yours still, only grow warmer and tighter.

“I r-really love you Y/N, a lot. And… well, I know you may not be able to make this decision soon. But please, just give it a thought?”

You shake your head, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you look up into his eyes again. They’re red and puffy by now, but they’re still gorgeous, they still remind you of the time you’d gently kiss over his eyelids whenever he cried like that.

You roll your eyes to the back of your head in deep thought, before tucking your bottom lip under your teeth and nodding. “Okay.”

“Okay…?” He asks, hopeful. You can almost feel his nervousness in the way his palms sweat, but you simply smile.

“We won’t date yet.” You said. “But I’ll allow you into my heart one last time. Don’t break it.”

And at your acceptance, Chan beams, feeling more tears roll down his eyes as he pulls you into a hug. This time, you don’t spare any restraint, wrapping your arms around your waist as you press your cheek against his chest. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…” Chan keeps mumbling and repeating, to which you only shush him gently, telling him it’s okay and he doesn’t have to thank him.

He still does. You only smile to yourself, and for the first time in three months, you feel somewhat at peace. There’s a long way to go — you have to adapt to this relationship, let your heart join back bit by bit and build each other’s confidence again. But you’re certain you can do it together. This story deserved a happy ending, and you were going to give it one, no matter how hard you’d have to try.

“Hey guys!” You hear someone walk through the door, immediately parting away and clearing your throats.

“Yes?” The both of you say at the same time, tensing up and then laughing at each other. If Chan’s tears were crushing, Chan’s giggles were truly healing. The way his eyes would scrunch up into the cutest crescents and his dimples would make an appearance always made you want to peck his cheeks. Now wasn’t the time though.

“Dinner’s being served, so Y/F/N told you to come downstairs.” The person at the door says, immediately running downstairs, as if to not interrupt your moment any further.

“Alright.” You laugh, taking Chan’s hands in yours as you intertwine your nimble fingers with his long, slender ones. “Let’s go shall we?” You don’t bother picking up the alcohol bottles, because you’ll be coming back here with your friends later anyways — they can be tended to later.

“Of course,” Chan pulls you along with him, running to the door — both the ones that lead to the diner and the ones that signified your new start.

Curse at me all you want, as long as you let it all out, and we can go back to how we were.

*:･ﾟ✧ find the other fics here !

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thedragonnerd · 3 years

Text

my soul may be damned, but my heart is still yours

(Concept Art AU 1/2)

Raya meets Namaari when she is seven years old, at her first Council of the Five meeting. Her Ma has recently passed, and Ba is reluctant to let her out of his sight, so he decides last-minute that she will accompany him to Fang on their diplomatic mission.

‘The lands of Kumandra may have been divided for 500 years,’ he tells her as they set out for their neighbour’s land, a large group of Royal soldiers surrounding them. ‘But the Council of the Five has ensured for centuries that trade and diplomatic discussions are still carried out, so that our lands do not fall into war and our people are protected. You are Heart’s Princess, and one day, these meetings will be yours to attend.’

To her disgust, Raya is provided a bodyguard for protection; this may be a mission of peace, but clearly Ba does not trust those no-good binturis in Fang even so. She resigns herself to an incredibly boring three days, where her father will talk with other adults for endless hours, and she is sat alone in a corner…But then, when they arrive in Fang and are greeted by the host delegation, she spies another small girl around her own age, peering out from around Chief Virana’s legs.

‘I’m Raya,’ she says, as soon as the adults are distracted. The girl gives her a small wave.

‘Namaari, Princess of Fang,’ she introduces herself. Around her neck lies a pendant in the shape of a dragon – Sisu, to be precise. Raya decides in that instant that her and Namaari will be best friends.

Indeed, they spend the first hours of the day in deep discussion. Namaari has been attending these Council meetings since she was five years old, and she’s a useful source of information, such as when the best food is brought out, or when the adults are too busy to notice small children sneaking away. At dinner later that evening, Raya slips handfuls of sweet desserts into her pockets, and grabs Namaari’s hand, ducking through the legs of everyone around them in order to lose her bodyguard. They sit in a dark corner and eat their stolen treats, laughing over silly jokes and their combined love of Sisu and all things dragons.

Being the Princess of the land, Namaari also knows amazing places to visit, and even better places to hide from the adults. Instead of three dull days, Raya spends them all with her new friend, talking, playing with serlot kittens, or getting into all sorts of mischief.

She can’t help but feel upset when it is time to return home.

‘See you next year in Heart?’ Namaari asks shyly, when Raya’s delegation is about to leave. Raya beams at her, scooping her into a hug before running after Ba.

They don’t speak in the interim year. Although Raya feels like Fang is now the land of new friends rather than binturis, the political situation is far more complicated than two young girls wanting to talk.

Raya thinks about Namaari often though, and when the first Council parties begin to arrive at Heart’s palace, she half leans out the window to see if she can catch sight of the other girl. Her frustration mounts as Spine and Talon are greeted by Ba, and then she sees in the distance the shining white of Fang’s uniforms, and almost falls out the window in her haste to go down to meet them.

She’s worried that Namaari might not remember her, or that their brief friendship didn’t mean the same thing. But as soon as she enters the courtyard, Namaari is already waving her over to say hello.

Later on, they are sat in Raya’s bedroom, talking non-stop until their voices start to crack, when Namaari pulls a small package out of a pocket, and thrusts it towards Raya.

‘A gift for the Heart Princess,’ she says, a light dusting of red across her cheeks. Raya takes it reverentially, and opens it to find a golden dragon pendant, with a shining blue stone in its center.

‘I love it,’ she clutches it in her hand for a moment, and then eagerly hangs it around her neck.

‘It’s so we can be matching forever,’ Namaari reminds her, holding up her own pendant.

Raya wears the pendant always. After the last Council meeting, her Ba and Chief Virana had agreed to allow letters to be passed back and forth between their daughters, and so Raya writes diligently to Namaari at least once a week, telling her of her lessons and training, of tasty food she’s enjoyed, of silly things Ba has said or done. It’s difficult to make friends as Princess, and the other children are wary of her when she wants to join their games, too concerned about causing offence by mistake. It seems to be similar for Namaari, from what Raya can glean from her own letters, and so they share their thoughts with each other instead, pouring out their young hearts in their correspondence.

Their meetings in Spine, Talon and Tail are similar as before. Raya is annoyed to see that Namaari is growing at a much faster pace, but besides that, it is wonderful to be able to hug her friend and hear her voice. And in the months between the Council meetings, they continue their letter writing, sharing their thoughts, their fears, and their hopes for the future.

‘I hope Kumandra can be reunited again,’ Raya writes when she is eleven, and frustrated with the amount of time left before she can see Namaari again.

‘When we are both leaders of our land, we will be the first to take that step, dep la,’ Namaari promises in her reply.

When Raya is twelve years old, the Council meeting should be hosted in Fang once more. But a week before the gathering, Raya finds Ba rushing around, throwing out orders to everyone in his vicinity.

‘Is there a problem, Ba?’ she asks, surprised at how stressed he seems.

‘Fang can no longer host the Council of the Five this year, so we are instead,’ he replies, before rushing away to organize more details.

‘Food is scarce, this season,’ Namaari had written in her last letter, and Raya re-reads it with more understanding this time.

She resolves to ask her friend more details when the Fang delegation arrives, but when she first catches sight of Namaari, there are no smiles sent her way. Namaari instead stands staring straight ahead, adorned in more formal clothing than Raya is used to seeing. As soon as the diplomatic greetings are held, the parties start to walk back to the palace together, and Raya deliberately falls back so she can walk with Namaari.

‘Alright?’ she asks her friend. She sees Virana grip her daughter’s shoulder tightly, and then Namaari is sending a fake smile in her direction.

‘All is well,’ she tells Raya, but her eyes say differently. Raya wants to question her there and then, but first comes the large feast where everyone must attend. At her age, she knows Ba will notice if she misses it, but she is almost tempted to forgo manners and drag Namaari away.

‘I must speak to you,’ Namaari whispers at her when they are finally sat with their food. ‘But in private.’

The meal feels the longest Raya has ever had to sit through, so when the food ends and people start to split off into groups for discussions, she gestures to Namaari and they run out the side door.

‘Let me take you somewhere private,’ Raya says, hooking her arm with Namaari’s and pulling her up the pathway. ‘I’ve been waiting to show you this place for ages anyway.’

It is forbidden to take outsiders to see the Dragon Gem, and as its newly-appointed Guardian, Raya knows she should act in a more sensible way. But this is Namaari, her dragon-nerd-in-arms, and she’s been wanting to share this special place with her for several years now.

When they cross the threshold and enter into the glowing chamber, Raya can see her friend’s eyes growing wide at the Dragon Gem shining brightly before her.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Namaari breathes, and then her expression turns serious. ‘Raya, this is what I needed to talk to you about. I need to warn you…I think Ma has something planned in regards to the Gem – I heard her speaking to-’

She stops speaking abruptly. The hairs on the back of Raya’s neck prickle, and she knows before she turns what she will see. The sounds of weapons being drawn confirms her fears.

‘Leave her alone!’ Namaari calls out to the Fang warriors, trying to step in front of Raya. But Raya is a Guardian of the Dragon Gem, and she steps into fighting stance, determined to protect both the Gem and her home.

She is only a child, however, and no match for a group of seasoned Fang warriors. She takes one strong hit, and falls to the ground winded, struggling to stand again. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Namaari pull out a flare and shoot it into the sky, and in what feels like the next instant, Ba is beside her, followed by a large crowd of Fang, Spine, Talon and Tail delegates.

Yelling ensues, and then there is nothing but chaos. The only thing Raya can focus on is the fight for her life.

‘The Gem!’ she hears someone cry suddenly, and time seems to slow down as she watches the Dragon Gem topple to the ground. The crash echoes through the chamber, and everyone pauses in their fighting.

‘It’s alright, it’s alright,’ Ba is saying, on his knees and with his hands hovering over the Gem. For a split second, Raya believes him; then there is a *crack* and a small fracture starts to run up the side of the Gem. The room’s glow turns from a serene blue to a sickly shade of green, and people start to scream and run away as the ground begins to tremor.

The Gem is now alit with green flames, which grow larger and wilder as something tears open the ground beneath their feet, and Raya sees a large mechanical arm reaching out of the darkness, attached to a monstrous body. The movement dislodges the Gem, and it rolls towards her, a flaming ball of now corrupted magic. Raya tries to scramble away, but the ground is still trembling and she falls backwards, watching in horror as it comes closer.

‘Raya!’ Ba cries in the distance, and she closes her eyes.

Then there is a warm weight on top of her, and a terrible, terrible sound fills her ears. Raya drags herself forward with her hands, her fingers getting scratched and bleeding in the dirt, and she pulls her legs out from under whatever is pinning her down. Twisting around, she finds Namaari lying on the ground next to her, screaming in pain. Namaari’s left hand is clutching the Dragon Gem, and Raya watches as the green flames dance across her fingers, a green glow emanating from her veins.

‘Raya, we have to go!’ Ba says, just as she is reaching out to help Namaari. He scoops her up by her waist, and starts to run in the opposite direction.

‘’Maari!’ Raya screams, trying to fight him off and get back to her friend. Ba’s grip is too tight however, and she watches helplessly as she’s carried away.

The last thing she sees before being dragged from the chamber is Namaari, writhing on the ground in pain as several mechanical Druuns crawl closer to her prone form.

Her Ba does not make it that night either. Instead, she watches as he is touched by one of the cursed Druun, a green light flaring in his eyes before he is turned to stone, frozen in his last moment of pain and terror.

It takes Raya two years before she can bring herself to return home. The Druun have moved on, searching for more populated areas, but she can’t shake the trauma witnessed that night. She wouldn’t go back at all, but her supplies are running low, and of all the places she knows that should be filled still with well-preserved food, it will be the kitchens at the palace.

She aims for a quick in-and-out mission, but once she has collected the food and packed her bags back onto Tuk Tuk’s saddle, she can’t help but hesitate and glance over her shoulder.

‘I’ll just be a moment,’ she tells Tuk Tuk, patting his nose when he grunts at her in concern.

Her first visit is to her father, still suspended in time leaning over the bridge’s wall, his face contorted into one final call of her name, and his arms reaching out. She still remembers seeing his face as she fell into the water, and she hopes she was the last thing on his mind also in those final moments, rather than the fear of the Druun.

After she sits with him for a while, she takes a deep breath, and turns to go to the very location where it all started. Her feet drag as she nears the entrance of the chamber, but she steels her nerves, and ventures inside.

The image before her is even worse than she recalls. Debris is littered across the floor, tossed aside when the Druun emerged back into the world, whilst every corner of the room is full of stone people – all those who were too slow to escape, or too stubborn to back down from a fight.

And there, in the middle of the room, on her knees with one arm reaching out, she finds Virana. The fear etched onto the Fang Chief’s face sends a shiver down Raya’s spine, but when she turns to follow Virana’s eyeline, she sees nothing. Namaari isn’t there.

‘I didn’t expect to find you here, dep la,’ comes a voice from behind her.

Raya whirls around, her hand flying to her father’s sword. There is a subtle movement from within the shadows, and then a figure steps out into the open.

‘Namaari?’ Raya whispers, shocked at the sight in front of her. ‘I thought…When did you…How did you..?’

She can’t even finish a question, and Namaari chuckles bitterly at her surprise.

‘How did I avoid turning to stone?’ she asks, her gaze drifting from Raya and towards her mother instead. ‘It would have been better if I had done so.’

And then Raya sees it – her left arm, no longer human but metal and shining with the same sickly green of the Druun’s magic.

‘What happened to you, ‘Maari?’ Raya asks, taking a step forward and holding out her hands. She pauses when Namaari backs away, shaking her head.

‘Don’t come any closer, Raya,’ she warns. ‘I’m not safe to be around. I’ve…I’ve been cursed.’

‘The Druun cursed you?’ Raya demands, confusion in her voice. ‘Why would they do that? HOW did they do that?’

‘Not the Druun – the Dragons,’ Namaari thrusts up her left arm, and shakes it twice towards Raya. ‘This is what I get for touching the Dragon Gem. I guess being a traitor from Fang would do that…even the Dragons didn’t like us.’

‘I don’t believe that,’ Raya says softly, and she inches forward slowly. Namaari’s eyes are unfocused as she stares into the distance, and so she doesn’t notice Raya until their fingers brush. She flinches away.

‘You saved me,’ Raya continues, ignoring her reaction. ‘That shouldn’t mean you’re cursed for it…the Dragons wouldn’t have judged you so.’

‘Well, there’s no longer any dragon magic to place judgement anyway,’ Namaari informs her, and their eyes meet for the first time in years. ‘It’s inside me, Raya…I can feel the power of the Gem burning. And they’re in here too.’

‘The dragons?’

‘The Druun…I can hear them calling. They’re looking for me.’

At this, Namaari suddenly grabs Raya’s shoulder with her human hand, opening her mouth to say another warning, and Raya can see the moment she is distracted by something.

‘You kept it?’ she asks instead, and her hand goes to cover the pendant around Raya’s neck.

‘We said forever,’ Raya jokes feebly, fingers rising to hold Namaari’s wrist in support. ‘Namaari, let me help you, please. You saved me once, let me save you now.’

They pause for a moment, staring at each other, and then an unearthly shriek pierces the air.

‘They’re here,’ Namaari breathes instead. ‘Run.’

Namaari disappears into the shadows in a split second, almost as if she were a ghost. And for the second time in her life, Raya finds herself fleeing from Heart’s palace without Namaari beside her.

PART TWO tomorrow...

OK, so this was meant to merely be a Concept Art headcanon list as suggested by an anon, but it kinda ran away with me, and I found myself writing endless 'childhood friends' points to build up to the moment Namaari even got cursed, let alone to the point that everyone wants to actually read where they have a showdown later on. Woopsie. It then went from ficlet to...sorta fic, so I will have to post the rest tomorrow since it is late in my timezone. I know lots of other people have been doing amazing fics, headcanons and art for this concept, so this is just my lil contribution.

#rayaari #raya and namaari #raya and the last dragon #ratld #raya #namaari #rayaari fic #concept art au #once i started writing i couldn't stoooop #also i want to give proper attention to the cursed years #so part two tomorrow i'm afraid #i have work i have to wake up for #woe #no beta we suffer like the druun versus the dragon gem

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moostaronce · 3 years

Text

You’re My Ideal Type

Request: I’m bad at thinking or suggesting scenarios but I really want a fluffy scenario of loona Jinsoul x fem reader if u r ok with it,thanks🥺💙

Pairing: Jinsoul x Fem Reader

A/N: Never a problem, I’ve got you. I hope you like it. Feel free to request more even if you don’t have specifics, it lets me try to be more creative.

P.S I feel like it was a little rushed since I changed my mind the day of upload but I hope you like it because I’m satisfied with the concept as a whole. Also, if you can guess what song inspired this I’ll give you a virtual cookie. 💛

“Hurry up Sol unnie or we’ll be late for practice.” Jungeun called out to her friend.

The two girls along with 4 of their other teammates were going to be late to their volleyball game if they didn’t hurry. They had been caught up talking and walking like turtles when Jungeun noticed the time on her phone. So now here they were running down the hall to their locker room. As soon as they enter, they are met by their coach angrily tapping her foot and their captain Sooyoung shaking her head while pinching the bridge of her nose. They didn’t need words to know they were in trouble. Before they knew it their worst fear came to be reality.

“Jinsol and Jungeun, you’re out for the whole match.” Jinsol’s jaw drops and Jungeun practically chokes on air.

“But coach we’re supposed to start tonight!” Jungeun cried out almost in anguish.

“You should’ve thought of that before you showed up late so now the other six that showed up on time will be starting.” Coach left no room for argument or discussion and just walked away. Sooyoung followed behind her, having nothing more to add herself.

The girls get changed in silence and make their way out to stand on the sidelines. The game begins and things go without a hitch. That is until someone comes off of the other team’s sidelines that Jinsol has never seen before. From the sound of the opposing crowd this girl sounded like bad news for her team for sure. She leans forward to get a good look at the girl’s face and actually gasps when she succeeds.

“Wow. Who is that?” Jinsol doesn’t mean to say it out loud but her teammate Yeojin heard her loud and clear. Yeojin was probably too small to even be on this team but she had hops and strong arms so the coach kept her around.

“Oh that’s Y/N she’s a transfer and apparently she’s become their secret weapon since she showed up. Why?” Yeojin leaned over to the older girl in curiosity.

Jinsol didn’t respond right away. The moment she looked at you she recognized it. You were exactly her ideal type. Her eyes fixed on you and they wouldn’t look any where else. She could’ve been in mortal danger but missing the chance of catching your eye was something she refused to do. The hope that you would look her way just for a moment was intense and as if it was by design, you did. Your eyes scanned the gym like you were looking for something, and in the back of your mind maybe you were. The search comes to an end when you spot her.

The two of you are standing pretty far away but the space between you began to feel unusual. A bizarre kind of feel that can’t quite be named, stirring up electricity between you. Jinsol watches as your lips part and you remember to take a breath before your teammates nudge you to focus. At this moment Jinsol has decided, she needs to talk to you or even just to be in your immediate vicinity. Her eyes didn’t leave you the whole match, even when coach finally had mercy and put her and Jungeun on the court. The match ended with your team winning by a hair and all Jinsol could think about was getting to you before you got on your bus to leave.

“I have to have her.” She muttered it under her breath and Jungeun looked over at her in confusion. The blonde followed the brunette’s eyes until her own landed on you packing up your stuff to leave.

“Who? Number 25?” Jungeun squints at the number on your back but she’s so loud when she asks that you look up and around.

When you look over to the other side of the court you see Jinsol and can’t help the small grin that takes over. You planned to approach her but she comes to you first with a rare kind of confidence you aren’t used to seeing first hand.

“Hi, I’m Jung Jinsol.” Her smile is nervous but bright and it draws you in.

“Y/N, Y/N L/N. It’s nice to meet you Jinsol, that was an impressive match. If you had been in a little longer I think you could’ve killed us.” She smiles sweetly at you and goes against her better judgment. Jinsol touches your arm in as flirty a manner as she can, lingering on the touch to make it clear she was indeed flirting.

“Thanks but with your skills there is no way I could’ve come out on top.”

You glance down to her fingers, daintily tracing your bicep then back up to her ridiculously pretty face. You can’t deny how attracted you are to her and she’s clearly throwing you signals so you decide to ask for her number. Jinsol beats you to it though, she grabs your coach’s sharpie off a discarded clipboard and writes her number on your bare forearm.

“You better call me. I really want to see you again Y/N.”

The look in her eyes shows nothing but hope and sincerity, so you give her your best smile and a kiss on her hand before taking your leave. Neither of you are usually the type to be so forward but there was just something about your chemistry that felt different. Something about each other that made you both a little weak just by meeting the other’s eyes. Jinsol heads to the locker room with a newfound bounce in her step, nothing could possibly ruin her day now. She just hopes you’ll at least text her.

——————-

The next day during lunch period Jinsol is sat with her 11 teammates as usual but she picks over her pizza instead of scarfing it down as usual. At first no one really notices or pays any mind, until she feels someone rubbing comforting circles on her back. When she looks over it’s Kahei giving her a concerned look.

“Are you okay Sol?” At their oldest’s concerned voice, the other members look over to see if everything is okay. Jinsol just shrugs in response. Technically everything is okay but she can’t help feeling disappointed that you haven’t tried contacting her. Jungeun catches on rather quickly and gives her a questioning look.

“25 didn’t text you, huh?” Jungeun patted the older girl on the head after she practically does a faceplant on the table. The others look at each other in confusion.

“25? Who’s 25?” Hyunjin leans on the table with interest.

“Oh! You must be thinking of Y/N unnie. She’s the new member for the team we played last night, Southside.” Yeojin speaks nonchalantly and everyone looks over at her with curiosity, including Jinsol.

“Unnie? You know her Yeojinie?” Heejin speaks up with the question they all wanted to ask.

“Oh yeah, she’s a family friend. Our moms are best friends, so she comes over to my house sometimes. She’s basically my big sister.”

“Oh so I’ve been replaced, huh?” Haseul speaks up in mock offense

“You said your only sibling was a boy so yes, Y/N unnie would never disown me like that.” Yeojin crosses her arms and turns her nose up at Haseul while Jinsol burns a whole in the side of her head with her gaze.

“Yeojin,” the younger girl looks to her nervous from her tone.

“Hook. Us. Up.” She doesn’t break eye contact even when the rest of the table starts smirking at her.

“Oooh Jinsol likes Y/N.” Yerim’s tone is teasing but Jinsol really pays her no mind. All she’s seeing right now is Yeojin and a direct doorway to you.

“But didn’t you already give her your number?” Jungeun chimes in and gets a nod in response.

“I wrote it on her arm.” Jinsol confirms it but becomes nervous at Yeojin’s shake of the head.

“You should’ve put it in her phone. She probably went home and showered it off without thinking about it, so she couldn’t reach you even if she wanted to. Here let me give you her numb- oh.” Yeojin pauses looking at her phone when she sees a text in all caps from you.

Unnie<3: JINNIE DO YOU KNOW A JINSOL ON YOUR TEAM?

YeoYeo: Actually I’m with her right now.

Unnie<3: NUMBER

Unnie<3: NOW

“I think I was right about her losing your number Sol unnie. Here I’ll send you her number and send her your number too. Save it as soon as you get it, okay?” Yeojin speaks while typing away at her phone screen.

Jinsol sits upright waiting for her phone to register Yeojin’s text with a new kind of energy. Not long after she finishes naming you in her phone, does she get a text from you. She looks up at Yeojin and thanks her until the younger girl gets tired of hearing it.

The two of you talk all day through text even transitioning to phone calls over the next few days. Without even realizing Jinsol finds herself wanting to to know every thing about you. What you’re doing, how you’re feeling. The two of you have even set up little training dates together and practice. One by one, little by little, day by day her feelings grow for you more and more until she decides she’s waited long enough.

You are on a walk holding her hand when Jinsol stops you in your tracks. She gets nervous under your curious gaze but she convinces herself that it’s now or never. The warm smile you give her only further assures her that this was the right move. You had to feel the same, right? Would you really be here with her smiling at her like this, looking at her like this, holding her hand like this if you weren’t the least bit interested? Surely not.

“What’s on your mind Sol?”

“Just…Y/N would you like to go out with me? Like actually date me?” She’s worried by the dumbstruck look on your face and the way you awkwardly release her hand to rub the back of your neck. Then you open your mouth and her jaw drops.

“Oh I um… I kind of thought we were dating already?” The sheepish look on you made her want to coo at you but she was lost for words.

“I mean I guess I should have said so but I mean think about it Jinsol. All my free time is yours, I practically hang off of your every word like I’m out of my mind. Any where you go I wanna follow and I pretty much do, I figured it was pretty clear that I thought we were in a relationship.”

You can’t seem to make eye contact with her and Jinsol can’t believe you get cuter by the minute. She tries to meet your eyes but you keep looking the other way. Her hands reach up to hold your face affectionately and make you look at her her. Now is when you both start to realize just how close she’s gotten and this close you can really see just how pretty her brown eyes are. Jinsol smiles at you sweetly and gives you a small peck on your lips, shocking you stiff.

“From now it’s day one, okay?” Her smile infectious and you return it tenfold.

“Okay.”

#Girl group scenarios #Loona scenarios #Loona fluff #Jinsoul scenarios #Jinsol scenarios #Jung Jinsoul scenarios #Jung Jinsol scenarios #MooStarOnce

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lady-charinette · 3 years

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Can you do a reader insert for Ranmaru from Kakuriyo? Maybe a human brought to Orio-ya by Ougan douji to turn the old building into a restaurant and he's surprised that it's become so popular?

“That woman…” Ranmaru adjusted his position against one of the wooden beams supporting Orio-ya, hands crossed over his chest at the sight before him.

Ayakashi bustling about, Orio-ya’s staff cleaning and guiding customers to their seats and in the center of all the controlled chaos was one woman.

One human woman.

Mistress Ougon-douji had brought you into Orio-ya, there had been no doubt in Ranmaru’s mind where she found you.

Ever since Aoi and subsequently Tenjin’ya had visited their inn, life as they knew it began to change.

Ayakashi from far and wide visited their inn, intrigued by the knowledge of the temporary reunion between the two most popular inns, as well as Tenjin’ya’s resident human having been an esteemed guest. “Esteemed” might not have been the word Ranmaru would’ve used since the beginning of Aoi’s stay here, but that had certainly changed with time. Now that peace existed between the two inns, even Ginji visited more often.

And today was one of those days.

“There you are Ranmaru! The restaurant sure seems to be successful, its almost as popular as Aoi’s back at Tenjin’ya! What’re you doing here standing all alone? Huh?” the nine tailed fox followed the dog ayakashi’s line of sight and spotted you who’d transformed the old, unused section of their inn into a lively restaurant. A devious smile spread the sly fox’s lips, “Ah, I recognize that look.”

Ranmaru bristled, hair standing on end and tail hitting Ginji completely intentionally, “What are you talking about?” he barked, pushing himself off the beam and moving onto a different less populated area.

He didn’t notice your curious gaze staring at his back as he rounded the corner.

Ginji, of course, followed suit. “You look just like the Master whenever he looks at Aoi! They make quiet a couple, you know?” Ginji switched sides and moved to Ranmaru’s right, just in time to avoid the violent arm swinging at the spot he had previously been in.

“Nonsense! Maybe the sake got to you Ginji, you’ve never been a good drinker.” Ginji allowed the remark to slide, watching his childhood friend stomp his way towards the general direction of the receptionist desk.

He scoffed, a lopsided smile on his lips. “I haven’t, but you’ve never been a good liar, Ranmaru.” With a shake of his head, Ginji made his way back to the festivities, making his way towards you to ask if you needed help with anything.

It was late when the restaurant in Orio-ya closed, you were kindly helping customers up to their feet and back into the inn, their steps heavy and uneven as the sake still buzzed in their bodies.

Your back hurt from all the preparations made for the restaurant, at least you didn’t have to cook everything on your own, the talented chefs of Orio-ya had been more than welcome to help you out.

“Of course, you’re now a part of Orio-ya, we help each-other here.” You appreciated how attentive everyone seemed to you, willing to help you adjust in the Hidden Realm among ayakashi as a sole human.

Well, almost.

There was always Aoi, who had been a tremendous help in getting you back on your feet and making sure you were protected and could hold your own against ayakashi. Tenjin’ya’s master had been kind enough to recommend you to the mistress of Orio-ya for hired help, since they were short staffed and needed fresh ideas to get their inn back on track.

You were more than alright with that, you missed leading your own restaurant back at home, and since you didn’t have the same abilities as the ayakashi, you thought it might be best to stick to what you knew and help them out.

As it turned out, Orio-ya had accepted you fairly quickly. Apparently, Aoi had humbled them quite a bit, some staff members were a bit brutish towards you for being human, but for the most part you felt perfectly safe.

That was largely thanks to Orio-ya’s lead manager, Ranmaru. Having not met a dog ayakashi before, you had been pretty taken with him, especially due to his big mane and his fluffy tail. Not to mention those ears.

Unfortunately, he acted anything but like a dog.

He seemed to be more of a cat than a dog, at least like the animals in your world.

He would mostly avoid you if he could, slipping past you whenever he could, only appearing when it suited him. But you weren’t stupid, you felt his gaze whenever you ventured outside of the inn, taking a walk through the forest. You were warned not to venture too far away, for the possibility of encountering monsters or unfriendly ayakashi but so far, nothing happened to you.

You thought it might’ve something to do with the dog ayakashi always being somewhere in your vicinity. Far away enough he thought you wouldn’t notice, but close enough to keep an eye on you.

Hideyoshi once corrected you on Ranmaru being a komainu, a lion-dog ayakashi, not purely a dog ayakashi. When you asked what the difference was, Hideyoshi had been curiously tongue tied, just snapping at you to never treat him like a lowly dog from your world.

You’d felt mildly offended, what was wrong with dogs? They were cute and fluffy and very loyal companions. So far, Ranmaru didn’t seem to really fit her world dog’s description.

Well…he was fluffy. At least judging from his hair and tail.

And he was cute or at least as cute as you were willing to admit to yourself.

You did know he was loyal to Orio-ya and its inhabitants but you didn’t think that same loyalty extended to you yet..or if ever.

Ranmaru didn’t seem to like you very much, no matter how hard you worked at befriending him and getting on his good side. It just seemed like he put walls all around him to keep you as far away from him as possible.

Your troubled musings were interrupted when something hit the ground with a dull thud.

It was Ranmaru.

The komainu had set up a table near the edge of Orio-ya’s porch, overlooking the sea. A bottle of sake and two bowls were on the table.

He didn’t even look at you when he spoke, his voice low and uncharacteristically lacking the typical bite which he usually barked commands at you, “Sit.”

Debating whether or not to tell him you weren’t his servant nor a dog, you took a deep breath and decided to follow his lead. This had been his first direct attempt at engaging in conversation with you, at least conversation that so far didn’t have anything to do with Orio-ya or the restaurant.

You sat on the opposite side of him, your gaze straying to the beautiful night sky before your head whipped around at the sound of trickling liquid.

Ranmaru was pouring you sake.

Finally, his gaze briefly met your stunned one, scoffing at the bewildered look on your face. “You seem surprised,” he nudged the bowl of sake towards you, before moving to pour himself a cup.

This time, it was him that was stunned when your hands landed on his, gently taking the sake bottle from him. He seemed even more stunned when you poured him sake, “Can you blame me? This is the first time you tried to talk to me and didn’t just watch me from afar.”

The komainu seemed oddly flustered, whether at being caught red-handed or that you were aware of his guarded gazes.

He cleared his throat, choosing not to comment and taking a sip from his sake. You did the same.

You drank together quietly, at the now clean porch of Orio-ya, both staring up at the night sky littered with stars and the moon.

Perhaps it was the fatigue hitting you from working a full day at Orio-ya with the newly opened restaurant, or the alcohol in your system, but you felt compelled to utter the words that left your mouth, “You know, ever since coming here, I’ve been scared what would become of me. If I would survive in this world, or if I would ever find a way to go back to mine. Since I met Aoi and saw how happy she was here, I’m beginning to think that…maybe its alright if I don’t return to my world.” You stared down at the clear liquid in your bowl, watching the moon’s reflection staring back at your pensive face.

Ranmaru was listening intently, trying to find the right words to answer you. It seemed like the bowl of sake gave him the inspiration, or the confidence, to finally speak. “You’ve been adjusting rather well here, despite all your…shortcomings.”

You huffed in annoyance at his remark, turning your head away from him.

A low chuckle filled your ears and his voice followed, “I think you’ll live here just fine, as long as you stay at Orio-ya, that is.”

You looked back at him in surprise, blinking rapidly. “You…you want me to…stay?”

The ghost of a smile adorned the komainu’s handsome face. “You’ve opened up this restaurant, someone has to lead it.” He lifted his bowl to his lips, blue eyes swimming with unspoken thoughts. “And…some of Orio-ya’s staff seemed to have…developed a soft spot for you.”

You weren’t sure if this was the sake talking or not, but you found yourself mirroring his stance, your voice soft when you said, “Well…I…developed a soft spot for…them too.” You could feel your cheeks heating up but blamed it on the alcohol.

The stars seemed to wink down at you, so mesmerized were you at their beauty that you failed to catch Ranmaru’s gentle smile.

Thanks for reading! It’s been a long while since I wrote for the fandom, so I hope it’s not too OOC and that you liked it :3

#kakuriyo no yadomeshi #bed and breakfast for spirits #ranmaru x reader #kakuriyo bed and breakfast for spirits #my fic #my fics #ask #Thanks for the request!#kakuriyo fic #kakuriyo fanfic

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planetsano · 4 years

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push and pull.

prompt: bakugou has been neglecting the reader because of work. she can't handle that because all she wants is love and attention.

warning(s): ceo!au, major sugar daddy vibes, aged up, hurt/comfort, f!reader, softie baku at the end.

pairing(s): bakugou katsuki x reader

You definitely felt like a spoiled brat. Walking around the Gucci store with a pout displayed on your glossed lips and nose held high like nothing in the vicinity was even close to being decent enough for you. Heels clicking lightly against the marbled flooring as you wandered around. This was such a drag. Your manicured finger lazily traced a handbag on a display table, it was probably worth someone's salary but you weren't interested. Your eyes were locked on the handsome blonde man pacing back and forth outside the big glass windows of the store. He was angrily speaking into the phone stopping ever so often to insult whoever was on the receiving end.

That— that stupid jerk is Bakugou Katsuki, your boyfriend, and he pinky promised to spend the day with you uninterrupted. Meaning no work calls, no emails, no boring paperwork— just you and him spending time together. He even promised to buy you that new handbag and the matching shoes you’ve been absolutely dying for but here you were in your current situation.

Recently, Bakugou has been incredibly busy with work but you couldn't exactly blame him. He was the CEO of a very successful multi-billion dollar company. But these past few weeks felt like you could never catch him not answering a business call or typing some boring email. Attempting to get one kiss from him always led you to be met with a dismissive wave of the hand as he answered the call. You knew it wasn't wise to bother him any further because he did have a temper. You’ve seen countless people on the receiving end of his rage and you didn't want to be met with it. Though it was sexy at times, you never liked upsetting him so you just left him alone. Always feeling deflated and discouraged as you opened up a tub of your favorite ice cream. Stress eating. This happened on multiple instances over the course of nearly a month. Quite frankly, you felt unwanted and it was driving you mad.

Walking around this store, there were so many beautiful and luxurious things, but your heart wasn't in it. Shopping wasn't much fun without his hand in yours giving you his opinions about how a dress or shoes would look on you, helping you zip up your dresses and sneaking naughty makeout sessions in the dressing room. Don't worry, you knew you looked pathetic. All pouty and woe as me. My rich boyfriend isn't giving me attention, life is so tough… you could laugh at yourself right now.

You missed him a lot but you were understanding… as understanding as you could be. You wondered if it was selfish to feel this nasty feeling pooling in your chest and stomach. Was it selfish to feel.. neglected? Was it selfish to want to have him all to yourself for just a day?

Was he.. losing interest in you? Was there someone else? Surely work couldn't take up that much of his time.. Did you upset him recently and didn't realize? Feelings of anxiety and nausea started to bubble up within you.. You didn't feel well at all and started to get sick to your stomach the more you got caught up in your thoughts. You wanted to leave. Now.

You hastily exited the store to find Bakugou. It looked like he was just about to come back in to find you, but you stopped him in his tracks. Almost immediately he noticed how drained you looked. Like there was something bothering you. He thought maybe some had said something rude to you but before he could react you spoke.

“Baby, can we go home? I don't feel good..” You looked up at him with a frown, your dainty hand resting on his chest.

The car ride back was quiet. Bakugou noticed your sudden change in demeanor causing him to take more than a couple glances at you in the passenger seat. Usually you'd be so bright and talkative, ushering him to sing along to whatever shitty song you had playing but you were radio silent. Maybe you actually didn't feel good? He would make ure to have his assistant buy you some medicine.

Men are so clueless..

“You ready?”

Your eyes averted their attention from your reflection to the handsome blonde casually adjusting his cufflinks behind you. He looked absolutely stunning standing there in an all black suit accompanied with a red tie. It not only complimented his eyes beautifully, but it matched your sparkly red gown as well. It almost pissed you off how he could be doing the bare minimum and still manage to look that good. But now wasn't the time to oogle. You came up with the conclusion that if he wanted to neglect you then you’d give him a dose of his own medicine. You ignored his presence and picked up your favorite highlighter and a brush, dusting your collarbones lightly to make them pop.

Bakugou walked a few steps closer and you continued to focus on your reflection in the mirror. He leaned over to plant a single kiss on the end of your shoulder, then made a trail of light and soft kisses along your shoulder blade, to the base of your neck and finally to that sensitive part of skin just below your earlobe. It took everything in you, plus more not to give in to his affections, but you desperately wanted to melt under him. You were so incredibly touch starved, especially these days. You missed him, but at the same time you were so upset with him. You couldn't just give in the moment he realizes you exist again. Fuck him. You were supposed to be angry. Not needy.

“You look fuckin’ amazing..” His voice was deep as he whispered into your ear. You closed your eyes tightly and sighed deeply, quickly getting up from your vanity stool and brushed past him, not even looking in his direction. You didn't get far before Bakugou grabbed your wrist and pulled back towards him fully closing the gap between you two and secured an arm around your waist making sure you weren't going anywhere.

God, you could feel him staring a hole into your head as you looked off to the side avoiding eye contact at all costs. You just couldn't bring yourself to look him in the eyes. You’d break.

Bakugou grabbed your face with his free hand forcing you to look at him, temporarily squishing your cheeks and making your lips go into a kissable pout. His harsh crimson gaze was locked onto your doe like eyes making you feel incredibly vulnerable and shy. You hated the power he had over you. Something as simple as eye contact making your ears and cheeks flare up in the color red. The thoughts and emotions from earlier coming back all at once threatening to make you sick all over again.

“What the fuck is your problem?” He asked bluntly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and irritation from your behavior. He could see something was bothering you and it was pissing him off that you weren't talking to him.

“Nothing.. I promise..” You replied. “I'm happy! See?” You forced a smile on your face as Bakugou watched your bottom lip quiver and eyes water as you tried to pathetically convince him you were fine all while looking like a kicked puppy.

“You’re a shit liar. You're about to fucking cry.” Bakugou’s hand shifted to cup the side of your face. You leaned into the warmth of his hand

“Tell me what's wrong.” His voice was still blunt and expression still stern. He never wants to see you like this. Sure, you got upset or even bratty from time to time but he's never seen you in this state and it worried the fuck out of him.

“I-I.. I just-!” You struggled to find proper words to convey how you felt. His thumb rubbed your cheek gently somewhat calming you down and keeping you from hyperventilating.

“Breathe.” His voice and expression softened upon seeing you teary and vulnerable.

“I just miss you!” You blurted out. Bakugou looked down at you with his brows furrowed in confusion.

“You're so busy with work you seem to forget I exist, I don't say anything because I-I’m proud of you and I want you to be successful! I understand you're very busy but.. but is it too much to ask for thirty minutes of your time? Katsuki, I miss spending time with you-” Bakugou watched you pour out all your emotions and thoughts like word vomit.

Guilt hit him all at once like a fucking train seeing you crying because of him. He was the reason you felt like this and he wanted to punch himself in the face for not noticing how unhappy you were sooner. He did admit that work seemed to be the only thing he’s been about lately. Neglecting his love life, his friends, his family, maybe even his own health. Even holding you this close made him realize that he hasn't been.. this close in proximity to you in a while. He fucked up.

“I-Is there someone else? Is that it? My hair.. I can change it if you'd like. Do you still love me? I-” That was the final straw for him. He cut you off with a swift kiss to the lips. It surprised you but you almost immediately moved your lips into sync with his. The kiss was sloppy and too many emotions fueled it, but the most prevalent one was want.

Bakugou’s heart ached hearing your words. Of course he still loved you. Everything about you was perfect in every way, there was no way on Earth he would lose you over some random extra that probably only wanted him for his money and last name. The fact that you were so.. willing to change for him to make him happy because you were so in love seemed so... wrong. He thought that if anything he should be the one trying to make you happy. He couldn't give a fuck whether your hair was long or short, curly or straight, he loved you regardless. Your appearance was never a factor in his feelings for you. Only a bonus.

He pulled away from your lips suddenly and looked at you. Your eyes were puffy, mascara was running and your lipstick was smeared but you still looked beautiful. It was a look he particularly liked but, it was not under these circumstances. You were usually on your knees.

“Don't say stupid things like that.” Bakugou started.

“..I'm so shit at relationships..” He struggled with his words and you could see it in his face. He wasn't ever one to express how he felt.

“‘m sorry for treating you like a fucking stranger.. you know I love you. No one else could even hold a fucking candle to you, that shouldn't even be a thought in this pretty fucking head of yours.” He sighed.

“I don't fucking care about how your hair looks.. I only care about you.” He finished.

Your crying stopped at some point when he was speaking and you were only met with soft hiccups. Bakugou wiped the final few tears from your cheeks and left a kiss on your forehead.

“Stop crying over me. I'm not worth it.” He whispered against your skin. For some reason his words shocked you. Not worth it? You thought was worth all your tears plus more, what was he on about? Did he really think he wasn't good enough for you?

“You don't say stupid things like that either. You're worth all the good things in the world.” You said softly. Bakugou’s heart fluttered at your words and he almost felt himself blush. There was a comfortable silence before you spoke up again.

“Oh no,” You looked at the time. “We're going to be late to the event and I look atrocious” You looked up at him with a pout.

“Fuck it. They'll be fine without us. Those bastards are annoying as hell anyway.. Let's get dinner, yeah? You can pick where we go.” Bakugou proposed and you smiled.

“Let's go.” You stood on your tippy toes and planted a kiss on his lips.

a/n: I hope you guys enjoyed this! For only 2k+ words I feel like I took forever to write this. I just wanted it to be up to standard.. feedback would be amazing. Also, my requests are open! Thank you for 100 followers! ❤️

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou imagines #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki imagine #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia imagines #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha bakugou

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reidecorating · 3 years

Text

Like Ivy

Request: “Being able to see you smile, being in your vicinity, just that is enough for me.” and “Uh, here, this is for, uh, you.” I’m thinking something Christmas-y with Reid - Anon

A/N: I do apologise for procrastinating on getting this out, but I wanted to make sure it wasn’t terrible. Merry Christmas to all of you who celebrate it, my present to you is the longest fic I have ever written. I had so much fun writing it so I hope you guys enjoy reading it! Happy holidays <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAUFem!Reader

Word Count: 7.7k

Summary: Best friends yearning & best friends pining - but make it festive. Entails Secret Santa, the classic penny behind the ear and waltzing.

Warnings: Fluff, proceed with caution :)

The Cathedral of Santa Maria. Spencer had finally put his finger on it. The small glass dome encasing a building, with doors small enough to allow entrance to ladybugs who may practice religion, adorned unmistakable timely Italian architecture and ornamented pine trees, all dusted with flitters of snow. For the past week, Spencer had caught sight of the trinket each time he wandered past where it sat, as one of the few other decorations surrounding the name plate displaying in gold Times New Roman ‘DAVID ROSSI’, on the often unoccupied desk. So, he gathered that it must be important. Filing away his final stack of paperwork for the night, a silver paperclip glistening in the artificial light, Spencer made a mental note to ask the man about it the next morning. Standing from his usual office chair slouch, he stretched his limbs, feeling a series of clicks in his back as he regained his posture, only to bend back down in reach of his satchel. He made his way home giving tight lipped smiles of encouragement to the few agents sprinkled about the room, working over time. Haphazardly, he pushed the arrow pointing downwards with a cardigan clad elbow. As if on queue, his phone buzzed to the simultaneous ‘ding’ of the lift.

I understand you’re nocturnal, but I hope you’ve gotten home by now! If not, text me when you do so, safely :)

He didn’t realise he was grinning from ear to ear until an aggravated looking bureau member from a floor above, evidently itching to get home, cleared his throat to gain Spencer’s attention. “Sorry,” he grimaced. Noticing the button for the ground floor having already been lit up, Spencer stepped inside and stood as far away, as was possible in the small space, from the rankled looking man and his briefcase. A dimple appeared on his cheek as he remembered you, two years, three months and seventeen days ago - not that he was counting - offering him cherry scented hand sanitiser from a small bottle, and, only after he’d nodded, gently grasping the tips of his fingers to steady his shaking hand as you poured the gelid liquid into his palm. The act was so pure he chose against telling you that while alcohol based hand sanitisers reduce the number of microbes on hands in some situations, they don’t eliminate all types of germs - making soap and water the most effective way to go. Since then, you occupied his thoughts in the same way ivy grew along bricks of long forgotten towers. In abundance, in the most beautiful way. He turned his attention back to the tiny mobile he was holding.

On my way right now. I have a date with microwaved leftovers at midnight, can’t miss it. Will do.

The next time his phone buzzed was when he’d dozed off on the way home, using the concave pane of a metro window as a shoulder to lean against. He waited until his feet landed on the uneven pavement of his stop to open it.

Tomorrow you have a date with a properly cooked meal, at mine. What is it that Hotch always says? That’s an order, not a request.

Spencer’s heartbeat quickened as he read what you had written, his brain immediately carrying variables in an effort to slow it down by convincing himself that friends make each other feel this way. However, when he counted the rose flush on his cheeks and nose whenever you were around, the looks you shared which said more than words ever could and the way you held each other nearer than the distance between the sky and the ocean where they met at the horizon after close calls and mentally grappling cases, it didn’t quite equate to being just friends. Dwindling leaves clinging to their branches shuddered as scissors of winter wind pruned the trees scattered about. Spencer’s pale hands slid into his coat pockets, hiding from frostbite. On the short walk to his apartment, he admired the twinkling lights on either side of the streets, feeling as if he were a plane which had just landed upon a runway in the night. Candy canes, reindeer and eccentric portrayals of Santa Claus glowed amongst bushes and on porches, making Spencer wish you were there to see them too. It wasn’t rare he found himself wanting to share everything he did with you. Pretty things made him think of you. Eventually reaching the familiar building, tiredly, he followed wreaths and holly all the way to his undecorated apartment door.

You? Cooking? I’ll bring a fire extinguisher. Home safe. Goodnight, sleep well.

He kept his promise, despite seeing the time was nearing to one in the morning and being doubtful you were still awake.

Hilarious :/ and I will, knowing you’re alive. Goodnight Spencer :)

Spencer coveted for nights when he could tell you goodnight from right beside you, perhaps with his hand draped around your waist while yours tugged at his hair. He wanted to fall asleep to the scent of your skin and whatever soap you’d picked up from the store that week, not the quiet hum of his vintage fan. His microwave beeped, acting as an alarm to return down to earth from the clouds, presenting him with far less than gourmet potatoes. Realising he would take your burnt cooking over this any day, he settled for a sandwich.

∗∗∗

“Did you know that snowglobes were invented in France. They were first introduced as ‘water globes’ at the Paris Expedition Fair in 1889, and, to no surprise, the first snow globe actually contained a tiny scaled Eiffel Tower covered in snow,” Spencer lectured, almost putting the two agents who had struggled enough to get out of bed, back to sleep. The days were slow. Annual leave for a majority of the bureau was looming nearer and files kept them busy as the jet gathered dust. “Glad to hear the French contributed something, other than their opprobrium of a language, to this world,” Emily complained, from her desk. “Well, baguettes… Croissants, parachutes… Aspirin-“ Spencer was halted by the unimpressed look on Rossi’s face, as he hovered on the edge of Spencer’s table, a bushy eyebrow raised in vexation. “What’s with all this talk of snowglobes, kid?” The older man squinted at Spencer, craning his neck towards this, the way he did to suspects behind the glass of an interrogation room. “Since you brought it up,” he smiled smugly, swivelling in his chair from one side to another. “What’s the story behind the Santa Maria sitting on your desk?”

“Yeah, the eighties have come and gone, Rossi, isn’t it a bit late for repentance?” Emily let out a sly smile, walking over to also lean against Spencer’s desk with a steaming mug in hand. “It was a gift from my grandmother, handmade, I take it out every Christmas to help get in the festive mood,” Rossi explained. “Also, that was very funny Emily but now… I can’t help but recall what Garcia told me about the time you got a little tipsy and licked peanut butter off J-”

“No one told me it was National Congregate Around Spencer Reid’s Desk Day today.” The three agents turned their heads in unison to find who the voice belonged to, Spencer’s breath hitching at the sight of you. You stood before them, an upturned magician’s hat in hand, semi-curious as to what the ending of Rossi’s sentence would have been if it weren’t for you interrupting. “Y/N!” Emily waved, flashing a smile. “You’ve taken an interest in magic and didn’t even think to tell me,” Spencer feigned a hurt look. “Spencer, I knew magic wasn’t for me after I did the card trick you taught me, wrong . Six times,”

“It was seven. Plus, the student is never as good as the teacher,” he suppressed a smile. “Or maybe the teacher just isn’t good,” you raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s a little hostile, someone didn’t get enough sleep last night,” Spencer defended himself, putting his hands in the air. His eyes held a glimmer of mischief as if to say ‘we know something that you don’t’ when they met yours. Emily’s jaw dropped. “That… Didn’t sound suggestive at all,” Rossi pursed his lips in concern, looking back and forth between the pair of furiously blushing agents. “Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t,” you winked at Rossi. Basking in the radiance of your laughter washing over him like the sun, Spencer chuckled along. “Anyway, what’s with the hat?” Emily questioned. “This,” you shook it by its brim, “contains the remaining names for this year’s Secret Santa, courtesy of Miss Penelope Garcia. I was just ordered to present it to you all. She calls it being her ‘little elf’ - I call it unpaid manual labour - but pick a name, any name,” you encouraged. You watched as Spencer’s tongue comically poked out as he eagerly concentrated on picking a name, elbow bent at a worrying angle. “I just want to say that every time I get a gift that isn’t alcohol, I’m slightly disappointed,” Emily turned to you as it was her turn to fish for a piece of paper. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you grinned at her. You watched Rossi’s expression as his eyes skimmed the name in his hands. “Oh, and Rossi, yes, there’s a budget,” you called over your shoulder, causing them to laugh as you gave them a wave. Slinking away from the comity of the bullpen, back to Mrs Claus’ lair, you retrieved the only remaining name. You paused in the hallway to double check if you’d read the glittery scrawl correctly. Spencer Reid. It was just your luck. You were prepared to engage in hand to hand combat with Garcia, seeing her office looming ahead. “Penelope. I hate you. I love you,” you kissed her cheek, placing the top hat on her curls, “but I hate you.” She recognised the tone, beaming at the implications. “Thank me later, beautiful!” She called after you as you rushed away to get started on completing the mountains of reports you had been avoiding thus far.

The day had come to a close, a headache making a home for itself in your head. Scanning the, now, mostly empty room, you caught sight of the back of Spencer’s uncombed head. Double checking that not enough people were around to be reprimanded by HR for misconduct, you inconspicuously made your way over to him snaking your arms around his neck and burrowing your nose in its crook. “Hi,” he chuckled, amused at the sudden affection, his unoccupied hand immediately reaching to grasp one of your wrists. Spencer had followed your strict, but coffee induced, orders earlier that morning telling him not to distract you unless, one, he was dying, or two, something was on fire, because you were determined to finish the numerous write-ups you had left until today. “Hi,” you mumbled into him. “Ready to go home?” You asked sweetly, arms still slung around him, pulling your face away to get a glimpse of his soft features. Your heart stopped for a little while, at the beauty of him. He was breathtaking. You refrained from tracing the small bump of his nose with your own, and settled for admiring the five o’clock shadow presaging a hidden jaw. The part of Spencer that craved domesticity was enchanted by your simple question, the word home resounding in his head, acting as an old film reel for projections of images of the two of you together; leaving work together, going home together. Little did he know that, as if through an unnoticed telepathy, just a few inches away, the same images occupied your own head. Coming home to an empty apartment had become tedious. You allowed yourself to give into your daydreams of returning home to Spencer - with Spencer. Spencer, with his warm eyes and words that drip like syrup from his tongue. You wanted nothing more than to revel in him filling your senses once the cologne from the day had been washed away, and hear him harp on about the history of mattresses, attempting to retain questions to ask him later in your memory bank, as you capitulate to sleep. “As a matter of fact, I finished most of what I had to do last night so I am ready to go… home,” he tested out the word, to which you had assigned a brand new connotation, feeling a flutter in his chest. You quickly rescinded your arms as you peripherally detected a flock of agents returning from what you assumed was an afternoon break. Spencer suddenly missed your body on his. Having already packed your things, feeling accomplished noticing that the pile of folders on your desk had shrunk significantly, you packed Spencer’s things to save him time, aimlessly throwing the strap of his satchel over his head for him once he had ungracefully shoved his arms into a blazer. “Hang on,” you gently pulled at his shoulders to meet your height, carefully fixing his tag and creased collar. The blush on his face, at the feel of your cold fingers brushing the nape of his neck, said everything he didn’t - save a meek, “Thank you.” You smiled at him in return. “Wait,” his eyes widened, “I need this,” he mumbled, reaching into the bottom drawer of his desk, pulling out a large black bag, decorated in gold intricacies. He didn’t explain it, but you knew that if Spencer had something to say, he would come out and say it, just all in good time. “Now are you ready?” You eyed the thing curiously, and glanced back at him. “Let’s go,” he motioned his arms in front of him, with a small nod, letting you lead the way.

Afternoon rays of sun fought their way through clouds, battling with the winter air to warm the people mingling outside as you made your way towards the crowded station. “Penny for your thoughts?” You asked, intuitively slipping an arm through his when the sun began to disappear altogether. Your cheeks grew warm as you realised your compromising position, feeling your heart rate return to its usual pace once he relaxed into your touch. “Hm?” He turned to look at you, letting his river coloured eyes unabashedly scan your face. “You look like your mind is far away,”

“What’s on my mind is definitely not very far away,” he said, quietly. That glimmer had returned. You noticed that the crease between his brows had disappeared, indicative that whatever thoughts were rattling through his brain, were good ones. You hummed a smile, content with his contentedness. “So… Hand it over,” he extended a palm a second later. “Hand what over?” You asked, genuinely confused. “A penny,” he said as if it was obvious. You blinked up at him, unfazed by the joke, as he bit his lip provokingly. All of a sudden he stopped walking, eyes still on you. “Just�� Hold on a moment,” he whispered, squinting at you as he reached a hand towards your cheek. You remained still, thinking that Spencer had finally lost his mind. “Here it is!” He exclaimed, breaking out into a smile as he retrieved a one cent coin from behind your ear. “What!? You’re kidding! That was brilliant,” you beamed at him, eyes wide in bewilderment. “For a second there I thought you had gone crazy,” you teased. “Magic does that to people,” he nodded, satisfied with how impressed you seemed. “Ah, but alas, you gave me a very ambiguous answer, so I,” you snatched the penny from his fingers, “am entitled to a refund.” Spencer shook his head with a soft smile. “You might need to use that for the bus if we miss the next train,” he informed, hurriedly examining the watch on his upturned wrist.

No trains were missed, that day, the two of you arriving at your door in time for the six o’clock news. “Here, let me take your coat,” you offered, putting it on the small rack beside the door, placing yours adjacent to it. Spencer relished in the warmth of the place, setting his things down. “So, I’m thinking we get a proper meal in us, and then you can help me decorate this dreary place,” you instructed. He wanted to let you know that anywhere you are is far from being dreary, but something told him that was far too sappy, so he settled for a simple, “Sounds good.” He took in the familiar apartment, its walls embellished in old paintings snagged from secondhand stores and books scattered about on almost every horizontal surface, in a certain disorderliness that said, yes it’s messy, but everything has its place. “Also, I hope you know that you’re only leaving in the morning so make yourself at home.” It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for the two of you; you falling asleep at his apartment out of feebleness, him at yours, and more often than not, it involved discarded games of Scrabble as the two of you settled for debating the rules instead of actually playing. Lately, he’d been craving it more and more - and so had you. Spencer would never say no to that offer, but he was taken aback. “But I didn’t pack- I don’t have-“

“Eidetic memory is slipping I see,” you giggled at his flustered state. “I told you, I kept finding toothbrushes, sweaters and socks here every time you left, so I made a drawer full of your things, since you practically live here anyway,”

“An entire drawer? I didn’t think I was missing a whole lot,” he responded, nose tinted red. “I have to water my plants quickly, before I put dinner on, but feel free to shower,” you said, still laughing quietly. “Let me help cook, first. You need someone to disassemble the smoke alarm,” he raised an eyebrow at you. One ‘KISS THE COOK’ apron and half an hour of seasoning a chicken, spilling sweet potatoes and bumping elbows later, the two of you stood back from the counter, you boasting to Spencer about how nothing had turned to ashes, and him pointing out that the oven hadn’t been turned on yet. Soon after, you put the oven on high, humming an indistinguishable carol over the shower that could be heard running from the next room. A warm, tingling feeling overcame you.

By the time you had showered, Spencer stood serving - a well timed and flawlessly cooked - chicken, wearing mitts matching the baggy flannel pyjamas keeping him warm on top of the open oven. “Smells good,” you complimented, slightly startling Spencer. He stood at the small wooden dining table, mouth agape at the sight of you. He was sure his heart was a puddle. “I like your sweater,” he praised. You glanced down slightly confused, shortly realising that your sweater, with its much too floppy sleeves, reaching a little way above your knees, was actually his. “Oh, I’ll wash it and give it back to you at some point,” you said shyly. “I was wondering where it went, but don’t worry about it, the colour looks nicer on you than it does on me,”

“Nonsense, you know that’s not true.” Soon enough, you found yourselves digging in - not before you expressed your gratitude towards food that wasn’t charred for the first time in months. You sat across from each other, your reindeer sock clad feet occasionally tapping his beneath the table. Spencer’s heart was full, marvelling at you from where he sat, wishing this could be something he could experience forever, much preferring it over a stale sandwich. You watched him intently through your eyelashes, chin resting on your interlaced hands while he taught you about how the thalidomide scandal emerging from Germany led to safer drugs in the pharmaceutical industry, the lecture prompted by an article he’d read recently. It continued into getting the dishes cleaned up, his rambling only being interrupted by your intermittent questions which incited further tangents, or requests to pass the tea towel. His voice was a ruffled silken sheet, on which you would like to lay for eternity. Admittedly, you found it difficult to focus on retaining any more information than the odd date, due to being too focused on the way his lips moved to form every word he said, hopelessly enamoured by the overly enthusiastic expressions he made to match the tone of what he was saying. Eventually, he wandered towards the living room as you stacked away the final plate, butterflies still spurring in your stomach from when his fingers brushed yours as he handed it to you.

“Spencer Reid effortlessly navigating technology, Christmas miracles really do exist, huh?”

“Actually, I just remembered watching you choose music, instead of paying attention to the road, that one time you drove me to work,”

“I was most definitely paying attention,” you huffed out a laugh, slightly bashful at the thought of him remembering small things you do. “You hit the kerb four times! That was the day I vowed to never let you transport me anywhere,”

“I see your argument, and I raise you with the counter argument: the kerb hit me.” Sitting with his back against the couch, legs sprawled out over the rug beneath your coffee table, Spencer couldn’t hold back his laughter. After watching you disappear into the kitchen, he busied himself with reading the holiday edition of Reader’s Digest laying on the table. He recounted you telling him that you had accidentally drunkenly subscribed to it, and never bothered to cancel the subscription, the first time you’d caught him reading an issue. You emerged a short while later, with drinks in both hands. “Bonjour monsieur, on tonight’s menu, we can either open this Merlot or, drink Capri-suns like the sophisticated adults we are. Your pick,” you said, hiding the juice pouches behind your back and noticeably waving the bottle of wine in front of you. “I have a feeling it isn’t my pick,” he let out a laugh, “so just fill a glass with enough Merlot for two,” you were on your way to get a glass before he had the chance to finish. “Your wish is my command!” You called. Spencer put down his magazine once he saw you rushing towards him with a large glass of wine in hand. “Of course you opt for Christmas Jazz over Mariah Carey,” you teased, hearing the music he’d queued floating from the withering speaker in the corner of the living room. It was the kind of music that would play in the diner of an expensive hotel, you noted. “I can change it if you’d like?” He began reaching for your phone, when you halted him by grasping his arm. “No, it’s good, I like your taste.” Spencer grinned sheepishly, taking the glass from your hand as you sat down beside him.

Hours of conversation and decking the halls with tinsel later, with wine flushed cheeks and twinkling eyes you moved the furniture to cater for your very own dance floor. Carefully, Spencer placed a hand below your ribs, touching you like new glassware, lacing the other with yours. Your unfettered hand, replaced the weight of the world as it rested on his shoulder. You recognised the look on his face as he settled into the close proximity, it was the same look that painted yours when you admired him whilst he failed to notice. The soft glow of a lamp illuminated the man you held, making an indistinct halo of golden light appear above his unkempt hair. “I apologise for any damage caused to your feet,” you giggled, struggling to find a rhythm. “Here, follow my lead,” he looked down at your feet. “The Waltz?” Dazzled, you raised an eyebrow, a few seconds after recognising the box-like steps in unison. Spencer tried to focus on anything but your lips, glistening in the dull light, so close to his. “Mhm, I’m not exactly the most co-ordinated-”

“You don’t say?”

“That’s tough talk for someone I’ve seen fall up a flight of stairs,”

“That sounds made up, but as you were saying,” you laughed into his chest. “It’s simple because its a repeating pattern. Did you know that name of the dance comes from the German word waltzen, which means to turn, or to glide? Some say the dance itself comes from the folk music and dances of west Austria, but others debate that it’s a variation of the Volta, from the 16th century,”

“Interesting, makes sense to debate that though. I’m pretty sure volta means ‘a turning’ in Italian - although that’s mostly in reference to the turn of a new thought or idea in sonnets… I’m thinking of Shakespeare,” you chimed in. “Sonnet one-hundred and thirty being a classic example of that,”

“Of course you would know that,” you shook your head in awe, cheeks hurting from grinning too wide. The incandescence of the smile that hadn’t left his face all day was mesmerising, the honeyed expression tied together with the dimples on his cheeks and creases around his eyes. “What would you like for Christmas?” He mumbled, lifting a moment of peaceful silence. “If you pulled my name out of the hat today you’re going to have to be a lot more subtle than that,”

“Unfortunately not,” he pouted. “Don’t tell anyone I told you, but I have Rossi,” he whispered the words into your ear, neglecting that no one else was around to hear. “What do you get a man who already has everything money can buy?”

“A new wife,” you joked, causing him to scoff. He studied your visage as you pondered his earlier question, still swaying to the soft piano sounds. “Honestly Spencer, being able to see you smile, being in your vicinity, just that is enough for me,” you finally answered, tilting your head up at him. Spencer thought his knees would give way. He thought his knees would give way, and he would hit the ground with enough impact to implode through the earth’s crust. In reality, he only stumbled over his feet momentarily, regaining his composure before you noticed him slowly becoming unhinged. “If that’s the case, I wish I’d picked your name,” he managed to utter, breathlessly.

The music which continued to play was drowned out by the sound of steady breathing, you were too caught up in each other to pay attention to the world. Wordless, you looked into his eyes, his actions parallel to yours. “You look beautiful right now,” he sighed. “Of course, you always look beautiful but, you know.” You shook your head, refraining from averting your eyes from his. He wished you believed it, promising himself to never abstain from letting you know until you saw yourself the way he did. “It’s funny you say that, because I was thinking the same thing. About you of course,” you rushed out the last part, realising the potential for miscommunication. “I love seeing you happy,”

“Well, as long as you stick around, you’ll be seeing a lot of that,” he spoke lowly, on the verge of telling you about all the things he felt for you. You hadn’t realised, but you had unconsciously moved closer together. You could feel his warm breath on your skin, lighting a fire inside your lungs, as he took yours away. Spencer saw all of the signs; the signs that this was not usual for a friendship. Maybe, if it weren’t for his defeated battle with fear, and doubt, he would have told you by now that he had fallen desperately for you. Spencer knew there wasn’t a drop of insincerity behind any of the kind words you spoke into him, he understood that you were his person, but he found it difficult enough to comprehend that someone could feel this strongly for someone. So, the implausible idea that someone could feel this way about him, was one he was not even prepared to entertain. “Y/N? I, um,” he tried, wearily. You gave him a soft smile, both tired arms laced behind his neck now as his rested on your waist. He dropped his sword. Once again losing the fight against his unreasonable insecurities, changing his mind at the last second. “I need to give you something,” his demeanour changed and he vanished from your line of vision. Your heart sank, hopes of hearing him say that the love you had for him was requited, fallen. Before you got too lost in your head, he emerged from the doorway with the same black bag you’d been inquisitive of. “Uh, here, this is for, uh, you,” he tucked his lip beneath his teeth. “Spencer…” you trailed off as he handed it to you. You sat yourself on the carpet, patting the spot next to you for him to join. “I thought I should give it to you now, since I’ll be in Vegas for Christmas,”

“Spencer, you really didn’t have to-“

“Go on, open it,” he ignored your humility. You gave him a look as you opened it - it being replaced with a look of elation as you realised what it was. In your hands, you held a scarf, long enough to hit the floor, striped in all your favourite tones. “I had to ask my mom for help with the tassels, but-“

“You took the time to make this? For me?” You exclaimed. Without thought, you draped it around his neck to tug him closer to you, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. “This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, thank you so much,” you lauded, refusing to let go of him. “I think it was last winter, we were walking back to our hotel in Minnesota during a case, and you insisted that the both of us use my scarf to keep us warm, because you didn’t have one,”

“Ah, I remember that, except it ended up being one of the top ten worst disasters in U.S. history due to the height difference, and we both ended up falling face-first into the snow,” you giggled, recalling the way you had used up most of the hotel’s hot water afterwards. “Exactly,” he matched your expression, “seeing as you still haven’t bought one for yourself, even though we lose eighty percent of our body heat through our head and neck, I thought I would take matters into my own hands,”

“Well, I love it. You’ll have to tell your mother I said thank you and that I’m sending my love,” you finally dropped your arms from around him, out of fear of crushing his shoulders.

Once the zeroes had lined up on the twenty-four clock, Spencer sat where he usually resided on your bed, ardently admiring you as you folded away his gift. “Wait! Spencer close your eyes! Please!” You squeaked, immediately shutting the cupboard doors, realising your unwrapped present for him was hidden within. “Y/N? Is everything alright?” He asked, eyes now sealed shut. “I didn’t want you to see what I’d bought for Secret Santa,” you let out, too exhausted to form a coherent excuse. “We only got those names today - well, yesterday, now - so how did you manage to-”

“Shoot,” you cursed to yourself, knowing his unintentional profiling would lead him to the conclusion sooner or later. Spencer’s eyes slowly opened. “Okay, let’s say if, hypothetically, I had intended on giving you something for Christmas anyway, but then drawn your name today, would you, hypothetically, be able to act surprised when you receive it from me at work?”

“Hypothetically speaking, I would?” He squinted at you, stifling laughter. Your hair was slightly messy and your drowsy eyes were visible to Spencer even without his contacts in. He thought you just looked so adorable, wanting nothing more than to hold you and share your warmth. “Anyway, come to bed,” he beckoned, his voice gravelly, giving way for the day. Obliging, you shuffled towards your bed before sliding your cold feet beneath the covers. Spencer turned to face you, resting his cheek on an upturned palm. “Sorry for ruining the surprise,” you whispered, tucking the duvet under your chin, bright eyes looking through him. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he assured, treasuring the sight before him. There had been a shift in the air between the two of you. Spencer held the wine accountable, but he could sense that you felt it too, a level of intimacy that you had not quite reached during previous nights like this. “Come closer, I need to exploit your body heat while I can.” Spencer listened to your instruction, inching nearer to you, his heart rate so high he was sure you could feel it when you nuzzled your head into his chest. “Goodnight,” you felt his chest rumble. “Hang on, the night isn’t over yet,” you mumbled, “talk to me,”

“About?” He asked, amused by your grit to avoid sleep. “Anything you want,” you yawned. “You’re sleepy,” he stated, coaxing you into getting some shut eye. When you tilted your head up and continued to blink at him, he gave in. “Have you ever wondered why a lot of our most vulnerable conversations happen at night?” You nodded in response. “Well, a study done by the University of Colorado a couple of years ago concluded that natural light from the sun actually regulates your circadian rhythm, or internal biological clock, which standardises your sleep cycle. According to their study, this sleep cycle coincides with sunrise and sunset, meaning that if you regularly expose yourself to sunlight, your body enhances its internal clock to align more closely with the natural light cycle,”

“Based on that,” you contended, words slightly jumbled, “our circadian rhythm would vary between seasons, right? And yours would be different, since you’re a literal vampire, to say... someone who surfs down in Florida because of disparity in sun exposure?”

“Precisely,” he raised his eyebrows, “I’m impressed you’re still paying attention, you look like you’re already dreaming.” Spencer nudged your forehead gently with his own, causing you to breath out a laugh. “Alright, so how does all of that relate to being more vulnerable at night?”

“It relates in the sense that the rise and fall of the sun reflects in our physiological, as well as emotional behaviour. During the day, we’re a lot more active, and at night, we become more relaxed and receptive. Hence, since your mind is at ease, all the thoughts and emotions that might have felt jumbled up during the day become clear, making them a whole lot easier to express,”

“Mhm,” you managed, eyelids growing heavy. “Do you… have anything to say now,” you whispered drowsily, eyes now closed, “that you can’t say during the day?” Spencer couldn’t handle it anymore. He was already so fond of you but as his hand settled to rest around your waist, feeling your warmness, he believed his ribs could collapse from the way he felt inside. As you dozed off, gradually, winter became less cold in his arms and dreamscapes of his tea leaf eyes. “And, she’s asleep,” he whispered, minutes after silence, into your hair, “but to answer your question, yes,” his lips planted a chaste kiss on your forehead, “I love you.” Of course, unbeknownst to him, you weren’t asleep just yet.

∗∗∗

A couple of days went by, and as more time went on, the less certain you became as to whether Spencer had really even said the words, wondering if the whole thing was just a fatigue driven hallucination your lovesick mind had conjured up. Waking up beside him the next morning however, tangled in a warm cocoon of cotton and limbs, had left you feeling giddy, smiling like a fool with heart shaped eyes as he attempted to feed you the waffles he’d made - which the two of you gulped down far too quickly than sanctioned, to avoid being late for work. When you didn’t succeed, and the clock had beaten you by ten minutes, you both wrestled past evocative looks from the rest of the team for the remainder of the day, JJ even singing something about the two of you ‘sitting in a tree’ . The soft, shared, smiles and light brushes of fingertips when he handed you coffee in the mornings left you wanting to concede; let him know that you would walk on burning coal for him, the more logical side of you reminding you that professing your devotion to him over an open case file consisting of a double homicide, three days before Christmas, was far from ideal. Spencer wanted the kind of love only the poets could express. This had become evident the evening you took him to a midnight screening of ‘Un homme et Une Femme’. You recalled leaning into him to translate, catching sight of his welling eyes glimmer in the dim lit theatre. Believing his love should be celebrated, you decided to withhold the unsurfaced feelings a little while longer.

Later that week, you all gathered around the BAU tree, a small framed picture of Derek decidedly hanging from one of its upper branches after Garcia had to be heavily persuaded, and eventually bribed, to not place it at the top, arguing “But he’s my star.” Spencer snuck behind you, subtly placing a hand on your back to glide through and place Rossi’s gift under the tree. “I want to let you know that I’ve been practicing my ‘surprised’ face in the mirror,” he discreetly whispered against your neck, making you roll your eyes. “Okay super sleuths, I know we’re all itching to fly away for a break, but hold your reindeer, because we are yet to kick off our annual Secret Santa,” Garcia excitedly exclaimed, shuffling in with two large sparkling bags. “I thought there was a budget?” Rossi quirked. “Yes, sir,” she looked smug, “for you.” The team shared smiles at Rossi’s perplexed look. “So, who wants to start us off?” Garcia chirped. With that, the festivities were under way. You held tight an abnormally large heat sensitive mug, which you were sure would also reveal a promiscuous image once warm - a gift from Emily, who gave herself away by insisting it would help your caffeine dependency - watching as the others tackled ribbon wrapping paper. You threw an impressed look Spencer’s way, that glint of knowing something the universe doesn’t returning to your eyes, when Rossi opened a small portrait of what looked to be a Venetian cathedral, the Santa Maria to be exact. Once the banter and excited chatter had died down, everyone turned to the recipient of the final gift, neatly labelled Spencer Reid, enveloped in brown paper and tied with deep purple ribbon. Penelope looked as if she were about to pass out. Spencer’s shifting eyes landed on JJ as she mouthed a small ‘you’re up’, causing a smile to tug at his lips when he eyed you gazing at him with the soft look he adored. Your eyes lingered on his hands as they swimmingly untied the mauve knot and tore open the paper to reveal a large leather-bound journal. He examined the old looking thing, trailing his fingers along the convoluted golden details of the artistic interpretation of a moon calendar adorning its umber covers, partially covered by thin leather straps. His mouth was slightly agape, shaking a little at how well you knew him, clumsily catching the matching novelty pen before it slipped out of the wrapping and onto the floor. You had picked it up at a forlorn occult shop after it had caught your eye while looking out of place as it lay surrounded by large crystals. Knowing in an almost divine way that it should belong to Spencer, you had bought it. He couldn’t help but look at you briefly, communicating a silent gratitude. “This is amazing,” he ogled, “I love it.” Your heartbeat was in your throat. He was yet to find out you’d filled the first page for him.

Shouts of Merry Christmas, long hugs and season’s greetings were thrown around the room before, one by one, everyone slowly bade their goodbyes. While helping JJ clear away torn reds and greens of gift wrapping, you caught sight of Spencer, ears and cheeks scarlet, with his nose buried in his new, opened, journal.

“We are asleep until we fall in love," you looked up from Leo Tolstoy’s one thousand page book and recited to me, once. Since you walked into my life, I’ve been wide awake. You know that I’m never far away, but this is for the days you need to let out some of what you hold in, without saying it aloud.

I love you too, Spencer.

Spencer read and re-read the words until he was sure he could recite them like the Lord’s Prayer. It was commonly Spencer who remembered small details and remembered paltry quotations, but this time, it was you. Sitting in the glow of the afternoon sun, one October, he had been reading War and Peace, and couldn’t help but share the line with you as you sat across from him, chewing through a much smaller number of pages and reading a collection of poetry. The woman he had been so captivated by, admiring from afar that day - and all others, felt the same way he did. In disbelief, he began breathing manually. Making sure he was deciphering the cursive lettering correctly, he scanned the page again. While his eyes were definitely not deceiving him, they remained glued to one word. Awake. The havoc caused in his heart by the train of thought hitting him so brutally, rivalled only Gare Montparnasse. You must’ve heard his confession nights ago. It was the only explanation for the ‘I love you, too’. You most definitely were awake. Profiling tendencies overcame him. With his basic background of graphology, he could make out that the last line had been written in fresher ink than all the others, confirming his hypothesis. For the first time in a while, his mind was quiet, the uncertainties which fought to float in, unable to make their way through as if the thee simple words you’d handed him were a barrier for them. He needed to talk to you.

Walking quickly towards the elevator, an overwhelming wave of anxiety crashed over you. You had subconsciously been avoiding Spencer for most of the evening, second-guessing whether or not you’d heard him correctly, whether he’d even meant the words in the way you’d interpreted, wondering what you would do if this friendship were to ever end. However, a more hopeful side of you contended to quiet those thoughts. He had to feel it too. There was no room in which you hadn’t shared a longing look. The feather touches, and dancing. So badly did you want to believe that he thought this too. A slender arm appeared through the closing elevator doors, tugging you back to reality, causing you to jump before quickly pushing the open button. “Spencer! You could’ve lost an arm!” You yelped. “It’s okay, I have two of them,” he huffed. He avoided your eyes for a moment, before inhaling half of the oxygen in the small lift and turning towards you. “I wanted to say thank you, for this,” he held up the book, “it’s gorgeous, and sort of… exactly what I needed - and not just the book itself but what you wrote… inside it,” he nervously looked at you. “Did you- do you mean what you wrote?” His tone of voice syringed into you a drop of hurt. “Spencer, I never want you to think that I don’t mean it,” your let out in a shaky voice, gently grasping his elbow. You visibly saw his body ease, a smitten smile replacing the lip being chewed at. His throat bobbed as he gulped before he spoke again, heartbeat in his ears. “I want you to know that I’m in love with you, Y/N. I don’t want you the way I want a best friend, I want you in a-” he sighed, clenching and unclenching his fist trying to find the words, “I want you in a way that means I want to fall asleep beside you, and wake up to you the next morning, for as long as the sun rises. I want you. I want you - no, need you, the way the tide needs the moon to rise and fall, I want you-” he swallowed, furrowing his brows at his feet, “I want you, like this.” Hazel eyes fluttering shut was the last thing you saw. Large hands lightly caressed your face, one travelling behind your ear, brushing your neck to delicately tangle in your hair. After years of wondering, you finally knew what his lips felt like on yours. His nose bumped yours lightly as you tasted his soft lips, their slight chap reminding you that winter had kissed them first. Your hands wrapped around his wrists, before one settled on his tilted jaw and another hid in his chestnut hair. He felt warm, everywhere you touched setting electricity through him. Even after you pulled apart, his arms remained on either side of your face, holding you like you were fragile. His breath fanned over your face, as you shivered, the fluttering in your stomach unsubdued. The elevator had long reached the ground floor, causing the two of you to bashfully laugh concurrently. You thought to yourself that Spencer’s crimson flush and wide grin was a sight you would lose sleep to gaze at. “All this time, I’ve been missing out on that,” you teased, watching him shyly bite his lip as he waited for you to say something else. “I’m very glad you said all of that because I’m very much in love with you, Spencer Reid, and, if you’ll let me, I want to love you, the way people love in all the books you’ve lent me,” you told him. At that, he was sure his heart was yours, fearlessly. So, making afternoon plans and debating which train to take, neither of you really caring as long as you were in the other’s company, you finally stepped out of the elevator, oblivious to the mistletoe that was hanging within it, but more than mindful of what was to come.

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miraculous786 · 4 years

Note

A prompt with Alya Redemption. After one lie too many Alya or her family gets hurt by Lila’s actions. No bashing anyone, but Lila salt is encouraged (incident in not Akuma related(

Masterlist

You Were To Babysit, Not Abandon

"Thanks again for this, Lila."

"Oh, it's no problem!" the Italian enthused, bright smile on her face. "It's just a shame that Marinette couldn't babysit your little angels."

"Whoa, dude! Might not wanna be calling them that!" Nino chuckled.

Alya shrugged. "Yeah, well, my girl had a commission she needed to work on for a big client. I don't blame her for not wanting any distractions."

"But...don't you think that, well- I don't know...she should make time for you? Shouldn't Marinette want you two to be happy on one of your dates?"

The reporter rose a brow, before gaining a more stern expression. "Hey, don't say that about my best friend. She already does so much for our whole class for free. She deserves a break from our needs every once in a while."

There was a flash of surprise and something akin to a snarl from the brunette, yet it went as soon as it had appeared. "Oh, of course! Silly me! It's just that one of my cousins from Italy, the one that was the daughter of a famous pianist, always offered to look after her family-friends when their parents weren't home. I guess I just expected all good friends to do the same."

She shrugged, apparent guilt on her features, making Alya laugh slightly and rush to assure, "It's fine, Lila. Trust me. Anyway, we better get going now. We don't wanna be late for our reservation. Be sure to keep Ella and Etta safe! They can get into so much mischief sometimes."

"They won't be any trouble," the teen brushed off. "Have fun, bestie!"

Nino rose a brow at the nickname, but nonetheless waved with his girlfriend as they walked out. The door slammed shut behind them, causing a slow grin to stretch across Lila's cheeks.

"Well, isn't this perfect!" she exclaimed with a clap of the hands, turning to the curious kids nearby. "How about we go visit the park to pass some time?"

~*~*~

"Lila! Lila!"

Said person fought off the urge to snap at the twins in her care, and instead replied in a sugar-sweet tone, "Yes?"

"Can we go on the carousel?"

"Pretty please?"

She glanced to the side, catching sight of the functioning ride. On it were a few children - a notable one being Manon - who were screaming excitedly at their parents nearby.

"Of course you can!" the girl allowed, whilst pressing a finger to Ella's nose in a playful manner. "Go on for as long as you want! I'll be right here."

They cheered with their arms in the air together, then proceeded to run off, giggles trailing behind them.

"Finally..." she scoffed beneath her breath. "How does that Mari-Brat deal with them when they never shut up? 'Angels'? More like devils if you ask me. No wonder they were akumatized into them."

Lila stood up from the bench she was sat at. Her head twisted to the scene at the other end of the park, and her legs soon brought her over to it at a fast pace.

There, set up in a way so as to not disturb anyone in the vicinity, was a photoshoot. Cameras of all sorts were pointing in the direction of a fountain, where a blond boy with emerald eyes was posing.

She smirked. Her gaze scanned over both him and the photographer close by. Thoughts of how she herself could be added in to the taken pictures flooded her mind, until she heard an accented voice speak.

"And that's a wrap for now! We'll have a half hour break and carry on after."

Adrien sighed in relief. He faced the woman to his far left and questioned, "Nathalie, is it okay if I have lunch now? I'll stay in the park."

"Yes you may, Adrien," his father's assistant droned. He didn't catch the way she snuck a peek to Lila, nor how a glint of something sinister shone on her glasses. "I have some business to attend to."

"Thank you, Nathalie!" he enthused, before suddenly gaining a pained look when gazing to where the Italian nearby was. "H-Hey Lila, how's it going?"

"Oh, I'm doing great, Adrien. Thank you so much for asking," Lila answered, coming forward to grab hold of his arm to further show her gratitude. However, she was halted by Nathalie opening her mouth to talk.

"Miss Rossi, if you would come with me, please. We have very important matters to discuss on the terms of your modelling contract."

"Of course!" she agreed - her smile only getting wider when she gazed upon the limousine that the female was gesturing to. She strolled over with her head held high, then entered with one last victorious smirk.

The only person to see it was Adrien, who narrowed his eyes.

~*~*~

"Excuse me?"

Adrien jumped. He turned to the source of the two voices that had called in unison, only to see a pair of familiar siblings.

"Ella? Etta? What are you guys doing out here by yourselves?"

Ella sniffled, rubbing her nose. "Alya's friend isn't here and she said she would be. We don't really know this park good. Can you help us please?"

"Please?"

The model rose an eyebrow. "But Marinette doesn't even live around here," he pondered aloud. "And she's responsible enough to not leave kids on their own. Are you sure she's not around?"

"No, Marinette isn't babysitting us. Lila is."

He grit his teeth. His fists clenched. "She's on her way to my father's mansion right now. It'll take at least fifteen minutes to walk back to Alya's," he revealed, tone laced with underlying anger. "I can't let you go by yourself, you're too young."

Etta's lip wobbled. "B-But how are we going to get home?"

After a moment, he pulled out the phone from his pocket. "Don't you girls worry yourselves. I have the perfect person to call."

~*~*~

"Hey, Alya? Are, are you okay?"

The reporter hummed with a serene smile, though Marinette couldn't help but furrow her brows at it. It was suspicious in her eyes, to say the least. The corners of her friend's mouth were slightly up, in a way that suggested that she was both happy and angered at the same time.

"If you say so, I guess..."

Alya turned her head to the baker. "Sorry, girl. It's just that, well...something happened yesterday that's had me worried for a while."

"Oh, gosh! Was it something bad?" Marinette quizzed, concern overtaking her. "Did someone get hurt?"

She chuckled dryly. "I guess you could say that they almost did."

Before the bluenette could say another word, the door to the classroom opened up, revealing a figure adorning an orange jacket. Their demeanour radiated pride and confidence, as they strut to the desks that the two best friends were at.

"Hey, bestie!" the newcomer greeted, ignoring Marinette who was sat with a subtly disgusted expression. "It's great to see you! I wanted to just tell you that I have a new exclusive for your blog if you want to record it after school today. It's about my job as a model for Gabriel Agreste, which I'm sure your fans will love."

"That's great to hear, Lila," Alya praised. "It's a shame that I have to go straight home after school. I am grounded, after all. I guess that means that I can't interview you or anything."

A flash of resentment shone in her green eyes. With a blinding smile, she spoke, "Oh, I'm sure your parents can un-ground you if you just tell them the situation. What you done couldn't have been that bad."

No one noticed how Adrien smirked from his seat.

Since everyone was focused on how Alya's smile disappeared in an instant, and was instead replaced by a look that screamed danger.

However, it seemed that Lila didn't catch on. At least not until the teen spoke up again.

"What I did was very bad, I assure you," she drawled, standing up from her table. "I trusted you, out of all people, to look after my sisters."

The Italian reared back. False tears pricked at her eyes. "W-What? What are you talking about? I thought Marinette was the one who did that, doesn't she?"

"Hey! I'll have you know that Uncle Jagged commissioned-"

Alya slammed her hands on the desk in front, making most in the room flinch. "Lila, I specifically told you to stay at home with Ella and Etta until me and Nino came back - not bring them to a park to play."

"I don't know what you're talkin-"

"You were supposed to babysit them! Not abandon them in a place where they could have been in danger or kidnapped if Adrien wasn't there to tell me where they were!"

"A-Adrien did? But-?"

Lila faced the blond, only to see him grinning in amusement.

"He, he must have made a mistake! I didn't leave them on the carousel at all! I just-"

"First of all, I didn't even mention a carousel," Alya started, finger held up for her to pause. "And second, I'm done with this conversation. I'm afraid that we can't really be friends if you lie so easily to me to get out of the consequences of endangering children."

Marinette gazed with a look that could best be described as awe at Alya. She watched with a sense of delight as Lila flickered her eyes back and forth, before deciding to humph with a flick of the hair and make her way up the stairs beside them.

"...So that was why you were in such a mood earlier."

~*~*~

@northernbluetongue @moonystars14 @soupfilledboots @vixen-uchiha @starsshineandgivehope @professionalfangirl1738

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #alya sugar #adrien agreste #no adrien salt #adrien sugar #Nino lahiffe #lila rossi #lila salt #Lila sucks #ml salt #ml sugar #ella cesaire #etta cesaire

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fierysafrina · 3 years

Text

Just breathe | part 4 of Broken Bonds

Fandom: Obey Me! Rating: General Word count: 2.970 Genre: Hurt/Comfort | Fluff Summary: It’s hard, but you make it work. Notes: And this is it. This is the last part of Broken Bonds. It was quite interesting and fun to write this story, especially when I had to think how the brothers, angels and Solomon would react and do things. Sure it also got me thinking about my writing too, but I’m glad and happy how it turned out. Hope you guys will also like it!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Day by day, one is always in the vicinity. No one dares to approach you, which let you know that Lucifer must have told them what happened.

You’re sitting on the terrace, watching the garden as you watch the snow slowly falling from the sky. You close your eyes and sigh, feeling slightly bad that one of the brothers is standing outside. Standing up from the rocking chair, you wrap the blanket a bit tighter around yourself and walk towards the fence. You lean over it and look towards the forest only to catch something silver. Your heart aches because it’s Mammon that’s keeping a watch on you and he must have been freezing too.

Your eyes meet and Mammon freezes like he didn’t expect you to look for him. He looks around like he’s trying to find a place to hide. It makes you smile and before you know it, you call out;

“Mammon,”

He stills and looks at you.

“Come here. It’s cold and you’ll get sick if you’re gonna stay out much longer.”

“‘M fine.” he says and you must strain your ears to hear him.

“Please…” you murmur and with hesitation he walks to the house.

He warily looks around before he takes a step on the porch and stops again. It seems like he’s expecting something and you realize he’s waiting for that same spell that was there before. When he so blindly walked through only to end in pain.

“I asked Solomon and Simeon to keep only witches away.” you say quietly.

Mammon’s eyes widened. That wasn’t what he expected to hear. He steps on the porch and awkwardly looks around like he’s not sure what to do. You smile and pat on the back of a chair beside yours. He hesitates and you wonder when did he grow so … reserved. It wasn’t the same Mammon you know and your chest tightens at the realization that you’re the one to blame.

“Would you like to drink something?” You ask, trying to bury the guilt away.

“‘S fine…” he murmurs with a shake of his head.

You observe him for a moment before you sigh and sit down. Mammon follows quietly and you both remain quiet, with you staring at the snow that covers the garden while there’s no doubt that the demon is staring at you.

“I-I’m sorry.” Mammon speaks after a moment.

You’re caught off guard so you look at him confused. “What?” you mumble.

“I’m sorry.” he repeats, this time more confident. “You didn’t deserve … that. I’m sorry.” he averts his gaze at his hands that are meddling on his lap, refusing to meet your eyes.

“I’m alright, Mammon.” You speak softly, your quiet voice barely catching his ears.

He raises his head and you spot tears in his eyes. “It still ain’t fair!” he raises his voice. “W-we … we-we should’ve protected ya!”

You sigh and shake your head. “Even if you did, there could be another that eventually comes with much bigger resentment towards you or Lilith.” you reach out for his hand and you notice how cold it is. You startle and unwrap the blanket before you wrap it around him. “Look how cold you are. Why didn’t you come here sooner?”

Without letting him answer, you turn and disappear into the house, completely ignoring Mammon’s calls of ‘it’s okay’. You’re murmuring to yourself the whole time while you’re preparing something warm for Mammon to warm up although you know he’ll be reluctant to accept.

And you’re proven right when you try to hand him a cup of tea.

“I-I ain’t cold anymore!” he’s trying to deny, but you can’t miss how pale-bluish his lips have become. How stupid could you be to not notice him earlier.

Your eyes well up and Mammon panics because he doesn’t want to see you cry. He takes the cup all while trying to assure you that he’s fine, that he’s not cold, but still thanks you for preparing him something warm. If possible you want to break down and cry, but you hold it in, because you don’t want Mammon to feel worse. You don’t want him to see you cry.

Silence spreads between you, neither of you sure what to say, to talk about. A part of you wants to ask him how he has been, if brothers still tease and pick on him, but you’re afraid of the truth. You’re not sure if you could handle it, because even now you dread how much you hurt them all those years back.

“We’re okay,” Mammon’s voice startles you.

You look at him confused.

He’s not facing you, but there’s sadness that surrounds him as he’s staring at the cup in his hands instead. “Me and brothers. We’re okay. Well, tryin’ to be at least…” he murmurs the last sentence more to himself and you frown. “We know we’re at fault for … actin’ the way we did and now that we think about it back, we could’a do it differently too, but in that moment that’s the only way we saw.”

Closing your eyes, you let out a sigh. “I know…” you whisper. Cold wind brushes against your hands and you shudder. There’s movement and you feel something put over your shoulders. You look and see Mammon just inches from your face. Your cheeks warm up in a matter of seconds and Mammon’s eyes widen. He pulls away quickly, apologies storming from his mouth, but instead of saying anything, you smile and you can’t help the tears that stream down your cheeks. Seeing your reaction, Mammon begins to panic even more.

“Please, don’t leave me…” You blurt out and Mammon freezes.

He’s staring at you shocked. “W-what?” he stutters like he misheard you.

“Don’t leave me.” you repeat, shaking your head. You stand up and reach for his hands, holding them. “So many times I wanted to call you, just for one of you to be here, but whenever I thought of you I remembered how you acted and I couldn’t do anything anymore. I was scared you wouldn’t answer. Or-or come. It hurt so much.”

“Never.” Mammon interrupts and your heart flutters at his words. He wraps you in his arms, tightens his embrace around you like he’s afraid that once he lets you go, you’ll disappear.

You raise your shaking hands and cling on his jacket, burying face into his chest. “I-I’m sorry…” you choke on your words, but Mammon is shaking his head.

“You have nothin’ to apologize for.” His voice is quiet. “It’s not your fault. It never was.”

You’re not sure how much time passes, but it’s close to mid-afternoon when the sky begins to turn dark. Mammon is the first to pull away and the corners of his lips croak into a small smile as he wipes your tears with his thumbs. He doesn’t say anything, because his actions speak louder.

He’s staying with you.

You wake up to a smell of something sweet and a chorus of curses. There are voices you don’t, but at the same time do, recognize before everything goes silent. You realize you’re lying on the couch as you rub your eyes and look around. There are a pair of violet eyes staring at you and you flinch at the sudden attention you’re receiving.

“Look what you did now!” Luke huffs and he scurries to your side, wrapping the blanket around you like he’s trying to hide you from gazes. “I’m sorry, we were too loud, I know. I tried to help them, but they never listen to me.” He’s talking both to you and to himself and you chuckle as you pat his head.

“It’s okay,” You say and stand up.

“I apologize for intruding.”

Your eyes fall on Lucifer, who’s standing on the doorway, his eyes observing you.

“I tried to warn them that you may find it excessive if all of us come, but have they ever listened to me?” he sighs and shakes with his head and it makes you laugh.

You quickly cover your mouth with the blanket, but they can’t deny that you’re still smiling beneath. The tension that you felt before, disappeared with your laughter. You make your way into the kitchen, Luke right beside you while Belphegor remains seated on the couch and Lucifer on the doorway that leads onto the terrace. Their eyes follow until you disappear into the kitchen where a very familiar sight greets you.

Mammon and Leviathan are covered with flour, Beelzebub is eating the cookies you baked last week while Satan is shaking his head, seemingly already giving up at the situation. You don’t see Asmodeus, but you have an idea where he is.

The two brothers still when they catch a sight of you, daring not to say a word as Luke begins to scold them. Beelzebub doesn’t stop, but he certainly looks your way frequently, his movements just a bit slower than before. It’s Satan, who approaches you, looking apologetic.

“I apologize,” he speaks rather quietly; “we’ll clean the kitchen.”

You remain silent, observing the situation. You’re not exactly sure how to feel about it. For years you lived alone, with occasional visits from angels and Solomon, but then over the night, your house becomes a mess because all demon brothers wanted was to prepare you breakfast.

Your house is quiet. It’s too quiet and Lucifer, who’s now behind you, is ready to scold Mammon and Leviathan when a chuckle breaks the quietness and stillness. You cover your mouth in a second, all eyes focusing on you, but you can’t help when you see flour all around and small spots even in Satan’s hair.

“[Name]?” Luke tilts his head, confused, and you burst into laughter.

You’re leaning over, holding for your stomach as your laughter fills the kitchen and even the living room.

“They lost their mind…” You hear Belphegor and you want to stop, you truly want to, but you keep on laughing.

There are tears in your eyes and for some reason you feel at peace. You don’t feel angry or sad when you look at them. You hear a chuckle and no soon more join you.

The tension that was present just a moment ago disappeared and you feel like you’re back in the Devildom. Except that you know you’re not and that you don’t have a pact with them anymore.

A touch of a hand on your upper arm startles you and you look at Lucifer, who’s looking at you, like he knew exactly what you were thinking. There’s a small smile on his lips and you’re moving before you realize it. Your face is buried in his chest, your arms tight around his torso and Lucifer doesn’t know what to do. Everyone quiets down, they’re watching the two of you, but no one is saying anything.

“I wondered why the laughter disappeared when I walked in, but now that I do I wonder if I should interrupt or not.”

Pulling away, your cheeks are warm as your eyes meet Simeon’s. He’s standing on the doorway between the hallway and kitchen.

“Simeon!” You chirp out, sudden energy overwhelming you and you rush to his side, pulling him inside.

A smile only grows on your lips and it’s a sight the brothers and the two angels adore the most. It’s that same carefree, loving and peaceful smile that you always showed them. In the next moment you’re rushing to Mammon and Leviathan, a kitchen towel in your hand as you start helping them clean flour off themselves.

It’s a sight that tugs at Simeon’s and Lucifer’s heart.

Even after what they had done, you're still the same.

It’s late in the night with Lucifer, Simeon and Mammon staying over at your house. Neither of the brothers wanted to leave, but seeing you overwhelmed and tired from all the antics they have pulled throughout the day, they came to agreement that at least their oldest brothers could remain by your side. You’re too tired to argue with anyone with the situation, so you let them decide as they wish.

Lucifer and Simeon are sitting in the living room on a sofa in silence. The only sound is the calm breathing of yours as you lay on the couch, your head on Mammon’s lap, and the ticking of the old clock. No one is talking as they don’t wish to wake you up.

You stir in your sleep, narrowing your eyebrows. Mammon’s softly caressing your head like a doting parent, his eyes observing you. He frowns when he notices a change in your breathing—growing rapid, heaving once in a while.

The second to focus on you is Simeon, whose expression is rid of any emotion, but when you whimper in your sleep, he moves in no time. He’s already kneeling beside you, caressing your face as he whispers sweet nothings to you.

“P-please…” you whimper in your sleep and grimace. “D-don’t… I’m-I’m sorry…” You startle before you open your eyes, blinking, trying to ground yourself. You see Simeon looking at you, completely forgetting Lucifer and Mammon are also there.

“It’s okay,” Simeon says quietly and both Lucifer and Mammon are watching you as you shake in Simeon’s arms. “You’re not alone, [Name]. You never were. You’re loved by so many.”

“S-Simeon…” you stutter out his name.

“I know,” he nods, eyes focusing on Lucifer, whose façade breaks by his next words: “They were fools, who let go of your hand even after they promised to protect you.” Mammon is gripping his knee tight, afraid to lash out, but Simeon continues; “But you know yourself they wanted to keep you safe even if the action they took hurt you.”

Your eyes are closed as you nod, clinging on his arms. “…I miss them…” you whisper.

“I know,” Simeon’s voice is quiet and he glances at the brothers, to see them looking anywhere but at you, ashamed. The angel feels satisfied with their reactions, but he also knows you wouldn’t want them to feel more regretful than they already do. Pulling away, he cups your face in his hands and smiles softly. “But they came back,” he begins slowly, wiping away the tears that stream down your cheeks. “They came to make amends with you, to ask your forgiveness and you welcomed them.”

You bite your lower lip and nod. “I did …” you agree quietly.

“Why did you?” Simeon can’t help but ask, although he already knew the answer.

You look into his eyes. “Because it wasn’t their fault for what happened.”

There’s a sudden gust of wind that makes you close your eyes and before you know it, you’re wrapped in white soft feathers—Simeon’s wings and he’s not looking at you, but at the side. You follow his gaze and you notice white hair and your eyes widen. Mammon is barely holding himself back, although his horns are already present, but there was another presence that you only manage to notice black wings before they disappear from your sight.

“Mammon…” you whisper-call his name.

He’s looking at you, tears in his eyes and he’s moving, but he stops when you flinch. There’s pain and regret and he moves back only for you to move forward. Simeon’s wings don’t protect you anymore, because you moved on your own. It was the decision you made as you wrap arms around the demon and hug him tightly.

Whispers of apologies are spoken, but you only shake your head because he doesn’t have to apologize. He already apologized so many times before that it hurt you now.

“Ya have nightmares…” he mumbles into the crook of your neck.

“Yes,” you nod, admitting. “Who doesn’t?” Your eyes are closed.

Mammon’s embrace is tight, but so warm it almost melts you. “’m sorry…” he murmurs and buries his face into your neck, which tickles you and makes you laugh. You can feel his lips twitch into a smile, but he doesn’t do more.

You glance at where Simeon was before only to find him gone. You’re alone with Mammon and you’re quite content with that. Pulling the brother down with you, he immediately engulfs you into another hug that you don’t hesitate to return. His heart is beating fast and hard that in the silence of your house, you can clearly hear it.

“Tell me a story,” you suddenly blurt out, knowing of the thoughts that run through his head.

“W-what?” he stutters and pulls away to look at you. His eyes are wide and bright in the dark, yet they’re quite visible. “I ain’t Satan.”

“I know,” you reply, then; “any story is fine.” Lowering your head, you bite your lower lip. “It helps me fall asleep again. Simeon tells me one, even if the same, when I have nightmares.”

Mammon is quiet before he sighs and pulls you back to his chest. He leans the chin on top of your head, staring at the door that leads onto the terrace. He spots Simeon’s wings and Lucifer—they’re talking and Mammon wonders what about when you wake him from his thoughts again.

“Story.” You pinch his side.

He yelps and glares down at you only to hum a moment later. “A story, huh?” he repeats and quiets down, wondering which one he should tell you of. “Ah!” he seems to remember.

You make yourself comfortable in his embrace, waiting.

“There once lived the Seven Lords …”

A small smile graces your lips as Mammon starts to talk. You close your eyes and begin to listen, a soothing, rather silent voice lulling you into sleep. You don’t remember when exactly you fell asleep, but the warmth that enveloped you in that moment was everything you needed.

After so long, you finally feel safe.

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