#mm...angst...she's full of it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

amjustagirl · 1 month

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title: to rebuild a home pairing: kuroo x f! reader genre: angst / fluff, post timeskip! wc: 6.8k m.list

a/n: companion piece to the original love knows not its depth, from kuroo's perspective.

Kuroo Tetsuro is doing alright.

He’s deftly juggling the roles life has handed him. His tenth wedding anniversary is coming up. He’s gotten a nice pair of earrings and a reservation at Tokyo’s hottest omakase for you to celebrate. The girls are doing nicely at school - Aiko’s grades are excellent, and Fumiko’s not gotten into any schoolyard fights unlike Bokuto’s trio of sons. His bosses seem happy with him too, paving the way for him to climb the corporate ladder rung by rung. He’s earned each promotion by burning days in the office, nights in the izakayas schmoozing with his bosses, but it’s worth it, even if it admittedly comes at the expense of being with you and the girls.

It’s a sacrifice he has to make so he can provide you with the fairytale life he’s always promised you. Not that you’ve ever complained about the trade-off.

“She’s the best wife and mom I could’ve asked for”, he tells Kenma, when the former setter asks about you. “I don’t know how she does it.”

Kenma frowns. “You make her sound like a video game character.”

“That’s cos she’s amazing -”

“Kinda sucks that she pretty much has to juggle a full time job and the kids on her own most of the time.”

“She manages perfectly well”, Kuroo enthuses, oblivious to the barb in his friend’s words. “By the time I get home, the girls are in bed, the house is clean, and there’s even a lunch box packed for me each day. She’s a rockstar at work too - should be up for a promotion next financial year.”

“Huh”, Kenma sniffs. “I wonder when she gets a break.”

Kuroo’s too distracted by the round of beers that’s delivered to his table to think deeply about his best friend’s apprehension. When he stumbles through the front door that night, he finds you crouched over the coffee table, frantically typing at your laptop. As expected, the girls are in bed, there’s nothing out of place.

“All good?” he asks you in passing, his mind already filing the tasks on his plate for tomorrow - organising a publicity event jointly held by the JVA and Bouncing Ball Corporation to introduce new national team members, reviewing the proposed budget for this year’s international competitions, popping by the under-19 team to see if there are indeed any promising candidates - he’s already one foot in the bedroom, ready to call it a night.

He doesn’t notice the violets blooming under your eyes.

“Mm.” You don’t look up. “Have a good night.”

Kruoo Tetsuro thinks he’s doing alright.

Bokuto Kotaro, for some reason, doesn’t think so. “Mitsuki said you’re lucky you’re not married to her cos she’ll skin you alive”, he informs him, as if Kuroo shares his love for women capable of chomping his head off in one bite.

Maybe the Bokutos operate on a different metric - because yes, they’re the model of egalitarianism with Mitsuki the high powered general counsel for Kenma’s Bouncing Ball Corporation (based on his referral, he likes to add, cos’ it’s funny to watch Mitsuki growl) and Kotaro the part time coach, full time stay at home dad to his wolfpack of sons, but that doesn’t mean his marriage is on the rocks.

As a child, he was the unwitting witness to his parents’ fights, which culminated in his mother walking out of the door, his father crying over a thick stack of divorce papers. His grandparents took him in, gave him stability and love and comfort but he swore to himself he’s never going to put his daughters through that.

Sure, it’s been a while since you’ve had a night to yourself. The last time he remembers you taking time away from the girls was to go out for dinner with him to celebrate his latest promotion - his conscience stings a little that he can’t remember the last time you’ve taken a break from everything you’ve been doing for him and the girls, but he’ll make it up to you once he has time. You always understand.

Still, just to be sure, he checks in on you again.

“You alright?”, he reaches for your hand, when he climbs into bed that night.

You’re lying in bed. He should find it odd that you’re still awake at this time of the night, staring up at the ceiling as if there’s something to be found there, but he falls asleep in the slow seconds, doesn't hear your response. When he wakes, you’ve already taken the girls to school. He gets himself ready for work, loops his tie around his neck, grabs his briefcase and the bento you’ve so lovingly packed for him, and hops on the train. He runs through his routine like clockwork, but there’s a niggling feeling that he’s missed something important, possibly something to do with you.

Did you say something to him last night?

It doesn’t matter. He makes a mental note to purchase a spa day for you - but that’s promptly forgotten when he’s greeted by a flood of emails and an invitation from his boss to go out for drinks that night.

Kuroo still thinks he’s doing alright.

“You’re lucky”, his boss toasts him. “Your wife doesn’t complain like mine when I go out drinking, even though I tell her I need to do it for work.”

“She’s an angel”, Kuroo replies, quietly bursting with pride. “Never complains.”

“Lucky man”, his boss says. “My wife is such a nag.”

He misses the last train home that night, drops you a text not to wait up and stumbles around Shibuya trying to find a cab. It must be a busy night because by the time he manages to flag down one, it’s three a.m. and his head is pounding from the excess of alcohol and lack of solid food and water. He fumbles with his keys, almost falls through his front door when the lock gives way. “Tadaima”, he says out of habit, too-loudly, before his stomach lurches and he has to make a mad dash for the kitchen sink.

“Tetsuro?”

He wants to respond, but he’s too busy emptying out the contents of his stomach. He shouldn’t have woken you up. He shouldn’t greet you with a mess for you to clean up. He shouldn’t lean so heavily on you that you stagger beneath his weight.

He shouldn’t do all of that yet he does so anyway. You tuck him, a grown man, into bed.

Tomorrow, he’ll apologise. Tomorrow, he’ll make it up to you.

Tomorrow comes. He wakes up.

You’re gone.

Kuroo Tetsuro is not alright.

He’s ashamed to admit that he doesn’t even notice you’ve taken off until it’s way past lunch when your mother drops him a text to ask if he’s picking up the girls or if he intends to leave them with her overnight.

“What d’you mean?” he texts her, confused.

His heart stops when your mother responds to say you dropped off the girls at her place without much of an explanation, an overnight bag slung over your shoulder. You don’t pick up your phones, his calls going straight to voicemail. For the first time in forever, he sheepishly asks his boss for urgent leave from work so he can rush home to figure out what’s going on.

You always take your laptop with you, but it’s sitting at home. He knows it’s an invasion of privacy, but he types in your password (his birthday), and your web browser reveals a booking for a ryokan in Hakone, where the both of you honeymooned almost a decade ago. It’s an hour away by train, far too much time for him to sit and stew in his thoughts. He wonders if you’ve become sick of your life with him, whether you’ve found someone new, and by the time he’s reached the ryokan and charmed the receptionist to let him into your room, he’s teetering on the edge of giving into his frustration, entertaining thoughts about yelling at you for being so goddamned irresponsible, cos how could you just walk out on him and the girls -

Until you walk in, thankfully alone.

It strikes him that it’s the most refreshed he’s seen you look in a very, very long time. Your cheeks are glowing, your eyes sparkle, and there’s a spring in your step that he hasn’t seen since you’ve had the girls.

Still, he can’t help but remain a little peeved. “I’ve been calling you all afternoon”, he informs you. “I was worried.”

He immediately regrets his words as he watches the light die in your eyes.

“Were you?”, you ask, as if you were addressing a stranger. “Really?”

“Of course”, he frowns, slowly getting up to approach you, concerned when you start to sway. “You’re my wife and the mother of our girls, of course I care.”

Laughter spills from your lips, an undercurrent of bitterness and contempt that’s threatening to drag you under before his very eyes. “If you really cared, you’d have noticed that your wife is broken”, you tell him between gasps, your shoulders caving in. “I tried fixing myself with a break, but you can’t even give me that.”

He’s starting to realise that things aren’t alright at all. You flinch when he takes a step towards you, an action which stabs him clean through his heart because he’s your husband, your Tetsuro, your person. Tea, then, a neutral offering that manages to calm you down enough to take a seat, even if you’re still shaking, falling to pieces while laughing, laughing -

“Tell me what’s wrong”, he begs. “Tell me what I can do to fix you.”

You take a sip of tea. It’s hot enough to burn you, but you don’t seem to notice.

“I can’t do this anymore, Tetsuro.”

“Don’t say that”, he snaps, his inner child recoiling because he can’t bear to have his girls go through what he went through, wondering if it was his fault, his very existence that caused his parents to split up. “The girls and I need you -”

You don’t seem to hear him.

“Princess”, he falls back on his pet name for you, rusty from lack of use. “Come back to me.”

You’re unmoved, your eyes unseeing, deaf to his pleas. Sip after sip, you gulp down scalding tea, each action jerky, mechanical. Frozen, in an impenetrable placidness that he can’t read. You’re sitting right in front of him but you’re not really there at all.

“Let’s talk when you’re back home”, he finally says. “Have a good break.”

The immature little boy that still lives in his psyche is still unconvinced that it’s a bad idea to drag you back home with him posthaste, but you asked for a break, and it’s the least he can give to you.

You allow him to roll out your futon for you, to swaddle you in layers of blankets as if that would keep you from falling apart any further. As he kisses your forehead to bid you goodnight and goodbye, he feels the brittleness of your bones, the thinness of your skin beneath his palms and he spends the hour-long train ride home wondering how he managed to look away long enough for you to turn into a shadow of your past self.

He goes straight to your mother’s house to retrieve the girls. As penance, he stands at the front door, head bowed, letting your mother yell at him in front of the neighbours for being a useless husband and an irresponsible father. After all, he deserves every word she flings in his face. He’s just thankful that she doesn’t ream him out in front of the girls.

“Where’s mama?” Fumiko mumbles half asleep into his neck. “Want mama.”

He cradles her closer. “She’ll be home tomorrow”, he tells her, hoping with every fibre of his being that that does not turn out to be a lie. Aiko, older and wiser, just stays quiet, so he forces a smile on his face for her sake.

Kuroo Tetsuro is far from okay.

The strain of the day wears on him and he’s sure there are burning emails in his inbox for him to firefight, but there’s a long list of chores to be done in your absence. The girls’ school bags need to be packed (in the case of five year old Fumiko) or checked (for ten year old Aiko), their uniforms to be laid out, the laundry sorted and folded. He barely gets any sleep before he has to hop out of bed to throw together a cold breakfast of milk and cereal that makes Fumiko burst into tears and Aiko’s face droops. By the time he shuffles his two cranky children out of the house and into their respective schools, he’s late for work.

He meets Bokuto and Kenma for lunch since there’s no lunch bento waiting for him in the fridge, though he regrets the decision to leave the refuge of his work desk for the boardroom of Bouncing Ball Corporation when Mitsuki joins them and, sharp-eyed as ever, sinks her talons into him.

“You look like shit”, she says to him as a greeting.

“Thanks”, he grounds out. The girls demanded he work their hair into the neat braids they insisted you always do, so bedhead would have to do for him today.

“I’ve never seen you without hair gel before”, Bokuto marvels. “You look weird.”

“I had a crap morning, okay”, he snaps, biting the head off the karaage fish in his store bought bento, which he resents for tasting worse than those you usually make for him. “So I’m sorry if I look slightly less than presentable -”

“You look like a man whose wife just left him - “

Mitsuki’s just stepped right on the wound he’s tried to keep hidden, festering and bleeding beneath his skin, so like an animal lashing out when it’s hurt, Kuroo slaps the table with both palms and snarls.

“Don’t - don’t fucking say that, okay? She’s just taking a break. She’ll come home.”

He can’t stand to see the shock and pity on his closest friends’ faces. “She’s coming home today”, he repeats softly, almost to himself, as if he’s little Fumiko in need of reassurance that the person she needs most in the world hasn’t just abandoned her. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Perhaps it’s the maturity that comes with fatherhood, because Bokuto is the first to react. “That’s right, you’re gonna be okay”, he soothes, pulling Kuroo into his seat. “Kenma’s gonna call your boss and tell him that you’re gonna spend the rest of the afternoon here to plan some event - “

“Sponsorship for the Under-19 team, done”, Kenma snaps his phone shut.

“Guys, I’m fine - ”

“Pretending everything’s okay isn’t going to help.”

Kuroo deflates. “Thanks, Kenma.”

Shelving his worthless pride to lay bare the situation he’s found himself in, that by neglecting his duties as a husband and father, he’s forced you to the brink of a mental breakdown, bad enough that you’ve left him - temporarily, he hopes. In the span of a few hours, he’s already found himself at his wit’s end, struggling to handle both the demands of the kids and his job, something that he realises he’s left you to bear, alone.

“But I can’t figure out why she didn’t just tell me she was feeling overwhelmed”, he says, pulling at a fraying thread in his shirt. “I would’ve listened. I would’ve done better.”

“She shouldn’t have to tell you to do your part”, Mitsuki waves away Bokuto’s desperate gesture for her not to kick a man when he’s already down.

“But I didn’t know -”

“Y’know, I really can’t stand men like you. You guys are amazing at work, able to anticipate your bosses’ and clients’ needs. At this point, you don’t even need to be told by your bosses to jump, you don’t even ask your clients ‘how high’ - yet, for some reason, you manage to turn off your brain the minute you walk in through the front door at home.”

“Maybe I should ask her for a list of things I can help her with -”

Bokuto claps his hand over Mitsuki’s mouth. “Ehhh..you might not wanna finish your sentence or Mitsuki might really bite your head off.”

Kuroo winces, snapping his mouth shut.

“Maybe you can think of it in a different way”, Bokuto says. “Instead of ‘helping’ her - cos that’s just placing the mental burden on her - at least, I think that’s the term Mitsuki-chan used when she explained it to me -” the affronted lawyer nods begrudgingly, and beaming, he continues - “you gotta do your half of the work!”

“Level up”, Kenma provides, rather unhelpfully.

“Open your eyes and use your brain”, Mitsuki says bluntly, rolling her eyes, though her tone is less sharp.

“Where do I start?” Kuroo asks.

Step one.

He picks the girls up from his mother in law’s place, bears with the lecture that’s awaiting him, and sheepishly asks them what their mama usually feeds them for dinner and breakfast, making a mental note of it. Tonight, he’ll cheat by feeding them gyudon at Sukiya, but he drops by the supermarket to procure the ingredients he needs for tomorrow’s breakfast and a bouquet of pink roses, even though he knows it’s probably too little, too late. He counts himself lucky that Fumiko loves bathtime, only needing supervision to wash and dry her hair, and Aiko’s responsible enough to work through her homework without prompting, but he’s still exhausted by the time they both head to bed.

His job doesn’t end there. Running through the checklist Mitsuki begrudgingly allowed Bokuto to give him, he surveys the apartment, comparing it against the mental image of how everything was before you left it. Toys scattered, to be put back in place. Dust on floor, to be vacuumed up. A heap of laundry in the basket, to be hung, dried, ironed.

Just as he finishes all these tasks, the front door swing opens.

“Tadaima”, you call out, voice hushed.

He nearly trips over his feet in his haste to relieve you of your luggage, usher you into a seat by the kitchen counter. “Okaerie”, he breathes,

“The girls?” you ask.

He’ll buy Bokuto lunch next time. “I picked them up from your mom”, he responds. “Don’t wake them up, I just put them to bed.”

You peek into their rooms nonetheless. “Thanks”, you say, heading next to the fridge. “By the way, I’ll pay you back for the hotel room from my own money, don’t worry.”

That’s the last thing on his mind. Besides, his sin is being a neglectful husband, not a miser. “It’s fine, I’ll cover it”, he scratches his head, embarrassed that you’re even bringing it up. “I should’ve realised you needed a break.”

That makes you frown, but you accept anyway. He watches you stack bread, eggs, ham, cheese, and it strikes him that you’re already worrying about the girls’ breakfast when you look as if you haven’t even had your own dinner.

“You haven’t had dinner?” he asks.

You reply carelessly that you’ve had a bento on the train back. You don’t even bother to look at him.

“I’ll take the girls in the mornings from now”, he tells you. “Sleep in and take a break.”

That gets your attention.

“Really?”

He plasters a confident smirk on his face to reassure you that he’s got it all in hand.

“Oh”, you’re adorable when you’re confused, but he hates that he’s given you reason to doubt him. “Wake me up if you need my help?”

“I won’t”, he promises.

It’s time for him to level up.

Step two.

He’s not going to lie to himself that he finds it difficult to do even half of what you used to do. Taking over the responsibility of wrangling the girls out of bed and into school, coming home early enough for dinner with you, that requires him to have hard conversations with his boss about not being able to go out for drinks or come in early anymore which probably hurts his chances for his next promotion, forces him to give up an hour or two of sleep, but it’s worth it if it allows you to heal.

“Don’t expect a gold star for your efforts”, Mitsuki warned him. “It’s just what you should’ve been doing before, so it’s time for you to go above and beyond.”

He takes her words to heart. You deserve to go to work well-rested, to wind down at night with a hot bath. He’ll buy a robot vacuum and pour over its manual that’s thicker than a textbook, do laundry loads while hopping on and off conference calls, wrestle the iron to press down his own shirts.

You seem baffled by the sudden shift in the winds, but he just pretends everything is normal. Business as usual. Things are just as they should’ve been.

In his next push to right his wrongs, he organises a Saturday dinner date with you. The girls are packed off with your mother, he makes the reservation, books the cab, compliments your dress. He asks you about your work (tiring), your boss (a micro-manager), the books you’ve read recently (nada, zilch). In the uphill battle to keep the conversation from being stilted, he makes a fatal mistake.

“We can make it work if you want to quit your job and stay home full time with the children.”

In his mind, that was a reasonable suggestion to make since you seem to hate your job and boss with a fiery passion. But you stare at him wide-eyed, your initial confusion hardening into anger.

“Did the guys at work tell you it’s easier to have a housewife instead of a working wife? Are you saying this because you don’t think I’m a good enough mother to our girls?”

You don’t give him a chance to backpedal, shooting a sarcastic apology for being selfish enough to refuse to be reliant on him, so he just slumps back in his chair in defeat.

“I just want you to be happy”, he murmurs. “Forget I ever said that.”

Step three.

To figure out step three, he schedules an emergency lunch meeting on Monday. The troops convene in Kenma’s boardroom to listen to his sorry tale with Mitsuki in charge of the post–battle analysis.

“And remind me again, where did you two meet?”

His face lights up at the memory of his first meeting with you. “Finance 102”, he replies. “We used to be academic rivals turned teammates after I convinced her I was smart enough for her to work with on projects.”

“What made you fall in love with her?”

“As much as I hate it, I have to admit she’s probably smarter than me”, he says, though the fond smile that creeps onto his face betrays the fact that he loves that about you. “She’s just - her, she’s headstrong and funny. Did I tell you how she tried to stab me with her fork when I stole food off her plate -”

“Only a million times”, Kenma interjects.

“She’s always been independent and ambitious, with big dreams and an even bigger heart.”

“Well”, Mitsuki says, adopting the mildest tone she’s used on him this month. “Does that sound like a woman who’d choose to stay home and depend on her husband? Not that there’s anything wrong with being a stay-at-home parent - Koutaro makes my career possible, and I’m the luckiest woman in the world to have him as my husband.”

“Babyyyyy.” Bokuto bawls, looking at MItsuki as if she hangs the moon in the sky.

Gross. Kenma seems to agree. “Let’s get back to Kuroo’s failing marriage”,

“So I shouldn’t bring up the suggestion that she quit her job again?”

His three person council shake their heads in unison. “Just keep what you’re doing”, Bokuto pipes up. “Sounds like you’re already doing the right things! Just gotta keep making sure she’s not holding up the sky herself.”

He can do that.

“And maybe talk to her?”, Kenma offers.

That’s the suggestion that he wants to dismiss right off the bat because he’s too much of a coward to even face the possibility that you might leave him. He doesn’t want to become his dad so he resolves to keep his head down and continue pushing ahead with his efforts to prove to you that he can be the husband you deserve, so you won’t wake up one day and decide to walk out on him again.

But his subconscious fears force his nightmares into overdrive. Dreams of packed bags and stacks of divorce papers makes him yelp loud enough for you to roll over and shake him awake. He’s a terrible husband for disturbing your sleep, but in his sleep-dazed state of confusion he just sinks back into the pillow, exhaling a sigh of relief.

“Thank the gods you haven’t left.”

“Why would I leave?”, you mumble, turning away again. “It’s my home, isn’t it.”

He sits up, rubs the nightmares away from his eyes. “I was afraid you left me.”

The silence nearly suffocates him. The sudden need to know exactly where you stand eats away at him and he crawls towards you. “Are you going to leave me”, he asks, praying to all the gods in the universe that you’ll reassure him otherwise.

His heart breaks anew when he hears a small sob, buried in the bedclothes. “I don’t know, Tetsuro”, you finally say. “I’m tired of being alone in a marriage when it’s supposed to be us working together.”

“I’m sorry.” There’s nothing much he can say.

A broken whisper. “I’m tired”, you exhale. “I think I deserve better.”

“I’ll make it better”, he promises.

He will. He will.

Kuroo Tetsuro is trying his best.

He takes a cooking class on the weekends to learn how to prepare bento boxes that are nutritious and easy on the wallet. He takes over the ferrying of Fumiko to her swimming lessons, work on Aiko’s art projects with her. He hires a part time cleaner to pick up the deep cleaning, so you and he have time to take the girls out on weekend outings instead of spending all day on a week’s worth of cumulated chores. A dishwasher appears in the house. He makes it a game for he and the girls to load and unload dishware each night.

“There’s a networking wine night for finance next Wednesday”, he tells you casually. “I’ll make sure to be home so you can go, if you want.”

You goggle at him.

“Go schmooze so the world knows you’re as amazing as I know you are.”

You trust him enough to leave the girls behind in his care and go. He counts that as a win.

Some nights he still can’t get home in time for dinner, but he always makes sure he’s home in time for a bedtime story and a goodnight kiss. Aiko avers that at the grand old age of ten, she doesn’t need her papa to tuck her to bed anymore, but she sidles into Fumiko’s room everynight and sits in the corner of her little sister’s bed as the littler girl listens to his tall tales.

“I met a princess when I was eighteen”, he says with a grin when he notices you listening in. “Instead of a crown, she armed herself with a fork, ready to cut down anyone who’d cross her.”

His heart skips a beat when he hears your voice from the doorway. “Don’t be dramatic”, you interrupt, a small smile growing on your face. “You were trying to steal my food and didn’t stop ‘til I stabbed you.”

Fumiko huffs, unhappy that her story’s being interrupted, but he can’t seem to tear his gaze away from you. “You left it on the table, princess. I consider that fair game.”

“Let ‘to-san tell the story, ka’san.” Aiko grumbles.

He savours your laughter. It tastes better than the finest wine.

“I can’t believe I have to fly all the way to Italy just to meet Kageyama-kun”, he huffs. “At least Hinata is meeting us there, I’ll revolt if I had to go up to Brazil as well.”

“You know it can’t be helped”, you reply. “The promotional activities planned need your presence, and it’s only for a week.”

“Will you be okay when I’m gone?”

His fears melt away when you hand him his suitcase, a flask of his favourite tea. “I’ve always managed fine. Nothing’s changed.”

His little monsters, realising that he’s about to leave, decide to launch a synchronised attack on him. Aiko throws herself at him in a bear hug. Fumiko yanks at his sleeve demanding a thousand kisses.

“Yes, well. I’ll be home soon. Please wait for me” he says to you when the girls finally release him. The expression on your face is unreadable, but you don’t pull away when he takes the liberty of taking your hand in his.

He feels your heartbeat accelerates. You glance up at him, almost shy. “I’ll see you soon.”

He’s so tempted to call his boss and pretend that he’s too ill to get on that damned flight, but he’s pretty sure that would get him fired. Instead, he calls you and the girls every day, and brings home a luggage full of presents for all of you.

When he’s home, he celebrates by putting on the frilliest pink apron he’s ever seen (courtesy of Yaku, who sent it to him all the way from Moscow as a joke) and throwing an elaborate takoyaki party, replete with customised toppings - octopus, cheese and shrimp, which the girls enjoyed even if he burnt the first batch and had to call Fukunaga frantically for tips to rescue the rest. It turns out to be such a success that he makes it a weekly event. Okonomiyaki is next, which he flips with expert confidence on a hot plate to the applause of you and the girls.

“Itadakimasu”, you clap your hands together. “It tastes good.”

He nearly melts into his pan. “Thank you”, he replies. “It means a lot, coming from you.”

His nights are still plagued by nightmares.

Things are better with you, he likes to think. The violets beneath your eyes are replaced by roses in your cheeks. He hears you humming about the house again. You pick up reading again, the shelves in the house start to groan under the weight of books belonging to the girls and you. You’re as eager as the girls to go on the next adventure, whether it be a summer night out in the park with sparklers, or a nerf gun battle at home on rainy days.

Still, he doesn’t know for sure what he’s doing is enough for you and he’s too much of a coward to check. So he’ll wake up almost every night, fumble in the dark just to make sure you’re there.

You’re there, until you aren’t.

It’s three in the morning. The space beside him is cold and empty.

He throws off the blankets, trips on his bed slippers. He crashes through into the living room and oh, there you are - sitting at the dining table, typing furiously at your laptop while mouthing off to yourself about the ridiculous demands your client makes.

“What’s wrong?” you frown.

He walks towards you, trying to discern that you’re real, you’re there, not some trick of the light..

“You’re - you’re still here.”

You nod slowly, eyeing him strangely. “My boss called and asked me to send out an urgent email. I was just about to go back to bed.”

He exhales, tries to force his trembling heart back into his chest. He thinks he’s doing a good job trying to act nonchalant, smoothing back his frazzled mane of hair, but you see right through him as you always do.

“Tetsuro”, you say slowly. “Is everything alright?

The truth tumbles out of his mouth. “I thought you were gone.”

Then he hangs his head, looks at his feet, afraid that he’ll only see rejection in your eyes. He’s a pathetic failure of a husband who has a decade’s worth of sins to make up for, and there’s no justification for him to selfishly to seek your absolution.

It comes anyway, in the form of soft hands pulling him forward.

“I’m here”, you say, pulling him into your embrace, letting him rest his heavy head in your lap.

He doesn’t allow himself to sink into your warmth. “Are you happier now? Are things better for you?”

“Yes”, he hears you say. The tension he’s been carrying around these few months lifts. “Thank you, Tetsuro. I appreciate it. I really do. You don’t have to work yourself to death - that’s never what I was asking for. If you’re tired -”

He shakes his head at your suggestion. He’s got a long way yet before he earns any reprieve.

“Tetsuro -”

He sits up abruptly, takes your hands in his.

“Promise you won’t leave me”, he pleads. “I know you’ve had to carry what must’ve felt like the weight of the entire world on your own, and I don’t have any excuse for that.”

“You don’t”, you agree.

He accepts the blow but he takes comfort that you don’t pull away. “I know that now. I know now how fucking hard it was to do it all alone.”

“It was hard. It was so, so hard, Tetsuro. I became numb to the pain. I don’t think I was functioning, I haven’t been for a while. For a long, long while.”

“I’m sorry”, his voice cracks.

“I know.” You cup his face in your hands, offers him comfort he doesn’t deserve. “That’s a chapter of our marriage that’s past, that can’t be unwritten. But the past few months have been different. You’ve shown me that you’ve changed.”

The first glimmer of sunlight after a long, dark winter. Hope blooms with your smile.

“I think”, you say. “I think we can make this work again.”

He stares at you, dumbstruck. Then the fact that you’re giving him another chance dawns upon him, and he crashes forward to rest his head on your shoulder, unashamed to cry tears of relief.

“Thank you”, he exhales brokenly. “I won’t fuck this up again, I promise.”

You press a kiss to his forehead, curl up trustingly in his arms. “Don’t thank me”, you laugh. “Thank yourself for making me believe in you.”

He drinks up each drop of your affection, falls asleep in the cradle of your arms.

“Is this what flirting is like?”

He wakes up to Aiko’s impertinent question, her hands on hips looking distinctly unimpressed at finding her parents asleep on the sofa, entwined together.

“Who taught you that word?” Kuroo asks, aghast that his ten year old daughter even recognises the existence of the opposite gender.

Aiko sticks her tongue at him, and he’s too distracted by Fumiko taking a flying leap onto the sofa with them, chattering a thousand miles an hour about what’s for breakfast and whether they can go to the zoo this afternoon - though he pins his suspicions on Bokuto’s trio of sons.

“Monsters”, he says. “Can’t even give your to-san a break to snuggle up to your pretty ka’san.”

The girls shriek in dismay - Aiko, at being a witness to further gross displays of affection between her parents, Fumiko, at being called a monster despite being a self-proclaimed princess. You prod at the soft flesh between his ribs.

“Don’t be mean”, you admonish him.

He sniffs, taking the chance to draw you closer. “I’m cranky in the mornings unless I get a morning kiss.”

You snort, swatting at him. “You make it sound as if kisses contain caffeine.”

The girls giggle, but he protests.

“Full of nonsense”, you tease, but you kiss him, again and again and again.

Things settle into a steady, sustainable pace.

You refuse to allow him to bear the weight of the household on his back alone. There are frank conversations to be had about what each of you can realistically handle without burning out. He leads the charge in the mornings, whipping up breakfast with the aid of his two sous chefs, building an expertise in braiding and french twists that could possibly allow him to moonlight as a hairstylist. You, on the other hand, take charge of evening pick-ups, cooking dinners, supervising homework and art projects until he comes home and tags you out.

Chores are evenly split. He doesn’t allow you to assume the mental load of organising the household by yourself. “We both have a degree in business management”, he likes to remind you, because he now knows that remembering to run errands, scheduling appointments - all of this is work too.

You force him to take breaks. If you get to relax with your friends, so should he. “If you get too stressed, you’ll lose your hair and we can’t have that.” He yelps when he imagines himself bald and obediently complies when you call Kenma up, talk him into getting him and Bokuto and Akaashi (when he’s feeling less morose about his singlehood) to go for a round of pick up volleyball. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself”, you note wryly when he returns home crowing about how he stuffed an Olympic player with a kill block.

“I did”, he replies, catching your hips to pull you in, cheekily ignoring your complaints that he’s sweaty. “But I enjoy coming home to you even more.”

“Gross”, you grumble, but you seem content to remain in his arms.

It’s another small moment he treasures. Life, he learns, is made of moments, both big and small. He’d made the mistake of only focusing on the big ones - graduation, playing at nationals, the day he was lucky enough to marry you, each of his daughter’s birthdays. Now, though, he cherishes each moment, each second he has with you and the girls, no matter how little, no matter how small.

He likes to come into the bathroom each night, leaning his elbow on the edge of the bathtub as you chat to him about your day, luxuriating in the bath he drew for you. You and he take turns to complain about life’s inconveniences as you clear emails once the girls have gone off to bed- colleagues who shirk their work, bosses who nitpick overmuch, washing everything down with steaming cups of herbal tea.

“Are you happy?”, he asks you, night after night.

“Mm”, you say with an impish grin. “I’d be happier if you let me put my toes on your calves.”

“They’re freezing”, he groans but scoots over anyway. “Better?”

“Much better”, you hum, content. “Life is good.”

He’s not remiss in planning the big moments too.

A year passes quickly to your wedding anniversary. He packs your suitcase, books the train tickets and whisks you back to the ryokan in Hakone, though this time he upgrades you both to their largest suite. “I feel like a princess!” you exclaim, twirling about the room.

Your happiness is worth every yen he spent.

You spend the day strolling down avenues lined with cherry blossoms, Mount Fuji looming in the backdrop, the evening exchanging heated kisses in the private onsen he booked. You’re older now, with laughter lines creased into your forehead, grey streaks in your hair, but you’re still the same girl he fell in love with all those years ago.

“And you couldn’t wait ‘til we got back to our room?” you smack him.

He also loves how there’s fire burning bright in your eyes, the way it always used to. “You kissed me first!”

“You kissed me second!”

“I don’t hear you complaining”, he cackles.

You try to shush him, to no avail, as he draws the attention of everyone around him.

“What a happy couple”, an obaa-san remarks out loud. “They must be newlyweds.”

Well, she’s not wrong. You’re as radiant as you were fifteen years ago, his spring bride, but he’s an old man doddering on, hopefully with his edges sanded off with time. “Just your regular old, married couple”, he chortles when you’re safely back in the room.

“A happily married couple”, you reply, serenely sipping your tea. “That obaa-san definitely got that part right.”

There’s a lump in his throat that he can’t swallow. “Are you happy?” he manages to ask anyway.

“With you?” Your smile is warm, bright. Always.”

Both of you are doing alright.

a/n: it's been a while, hasn't it. i've been alright - how are you guys doing?

#kuroo x you #kuroo x reader #kuroo testuro #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff

382 notes · View notes

abbyromanoff · 6 months

Text

TARGET 1

PAIRINGS: Ghostface!Natasha Romanoff x reader

WORD COUNT: 2581

WARNINGS: bottom!Nat, kinda dark reader, Mommy (R), smut obvi, mentions of face riding, hand jobs, breeding, little!Nat, praise, pet names, Nat is referred to as “bear” a lot, small angst, wrote this in abt an hour so it’s not that great :/, think that’s all tho :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

Screams echoed through the dark alley, and Nat cursed herself for not thinking to cover the victim’s mouth. Someone could hear, and with the news of the recent killings spreading, she didn’t want to risk finally being caught.

The blood oozed out of the man’s wound, and Nat smiled as she grabbed her camera. She examined her surroundings, making sure nobody was nearby before she took multiple photos, placing them in her pocket after making sure they were perfect for you. She sent a text your way, updating you on her completion before removing the mask and cloak, placing them in her bag while she placed a single headphone in, making sure she looked like a normal citizen and not a killer who just took away the life of an innocent man. You told her to be safe on her voyage home and received a quick photo of her grinning with a thumbs up, giving you all the closure you needed as you set up the bath. You ensured the water was hot so it would cool to an even temperature by the time she was home. You placed her favorite toys in the pile of bubbles and ventured into the kitchen, waiting for the oven to set off and to hear the twisting of keys to your shared apartment.

“Mommy? I’m home!” You heard a giggly Nat alert you, causing you to peek your head out of the room. She smiled when she saw you and tried rushing forward, only to be stopped by your voice.

“Ah, ah, what’s the rule with shoes in the house?” She looked down, noticing a small trail of blood she left on the floor. She rushed an apology and placed them on the rack next to the coat hanger, continuing her way to you and throwing her arms around you in a hurry.

“Mm, I missed you, bear.” You placed your hands on both of her cheeks, squishing the plush skin before leaving a quick peck on her lips. Her dimples shined under her large blush and you chuckled, placing one last kiss on her forehead before grabbing her plate of food.

“I know you must be so hungry after all your hard work today, I thought you deserved a little treat.”

“Breakfast for dinner? Oh, thank you, Mommy!” You knew it was her favorite, and while it was a bit of a hassle, you’d rather spend half an hour cleaning if you got to see her smile so large. She poured the maple syrup over her waffle before grabbing the whipped cream, only to be stopped by a hand.

“I think it’s best if Mommy does that for you, we don’t want you dirtying up your shirt, now do we?” You also knew she loved to go over the top with sweetness, whipped cream being one of those. While she deserved a lovely treat, it was best if she didn’t plow down piles of food and complain later on about stomach pain.

“Would you like me to cut your waffle for you, love?” She grappled onto your arm, resting her head on the soft skin as she watched your every move.

“Yes, please.” Her mouth felt empty, usually, she had her pacifier to soothe her in times of calmness like this. So, she took to biting her lip instead, a habit you’ve been trying to have her let go of.

“There you go. Why don’t you eat up and you can tell me all about your little adventure tonight, okay?” She nodded, instantly taking her fork and picking the piece she saw first. You sighed with contentment before taking the seat across from her, occasionally feeling her foot slap against your leg as she swung them happily.

“I even got a bunch of pictures for you!” She concluded her rant, reaching into her pocket where the Polaroids were stored.

“No talking with your mouth full, bear,” You reminded her, making her stop as she swallowed the nourishment before continuing. She placed each of them on the table, taking a sip of her apple juice before explaining each one.

“And guess what? I stabbed him, like, a billion times! I forgot to cover his mouth on accident, so I made sure to leave before anyone heard him or saw me.” You nodded along with her statements, standing alongside her as the two of you cleaned each dish.

“Now, baby, you need to make sure you’re being careful, I don’t want you to get caught.”

“I know, Mommy, I promise I’m usually really careful, but I got a little excited this time.” The man wasn’t a terrible person, but in her mind he was. He was your boss and had been setting unrealistic expectations for all of his workers, including you. This meant longer hours and more stress, which also meant less time that Nat got to spend with you. You tried making it up to her, and she didn’t blame you, but she knew this was the best gift she could offer you. After all, you do so much for her, you deserved a thank you.

“That’s alright, we’re just going to need to wait a little bit longer until we find someone, this time.”

The two of you quickly finished the load of dishes, thankful that there wasn’t a lot. You led her to the bathroom, helping rid her of her clothing before she settled in the bathtub. She played with the toys, allowing her giggles to be presented instead of shying away. She was never appreciated in the ways you showed her, so being able to remove that ounce of fear she held felt undeniably relieving.

“Mommy, can I ask you something?” She asked in a low voice, clinging onto the towel you wrapped around her. You furrowed your brows but gave her permission, your worry only growing as her gaze faltered to the floor.

“Do you really think I’m good at this type of stuff?” She had been trained her entire life to kill, it was all she ever knew. She was of the highest rankings at such a young age, but the constant competition and downgrading she received failed to fill her confidence. All she ever wanted was to be good enough, and now that goal was even more important with you by her side.

“Oh, honey, of course, you are! I’m always so proud of you and your work, nothing will ever change that.” She sat on the edge of the bed, the cracked window causing goosebumps to erupt on her naked skin. You took the signal to shut it before returning, kneeling before her as you patched up a small cut on her knee. She eyed the Frozen bandaid with a smile, running her fingertip over the area before returning her gaze to you.

“But you don’t seem as excited about it as before, am I doing something wrong?” Her lips formed into a pout that she tried to hide, only to be exposed as you brought her face to meet yours.

“No, that’s not it at all. I’m so sorry, bear, I’ve been so stressed over work, and with the holidays coming up, I guess I’ve been neglecting you as a result. I’m so sorry, it was never my intent to hurt you.” She relished in the fact that the truth was now out and she could be at ease, but she felt saddened at your reaction. She didn’t want to hurt you, but now you were the one with a heavy heart.

“No, it’s okay! I- I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t doing something wrong, I’m not mad at you.” You rubbed her sides gently, taking the seat next to her as you wrapped your arm around her small frame. She rested her head on your shoulder out of instinct.

“You did so well tonight, I think I’m going to hang those photos up on the fridge so I’ll always be reminded of how talented you are.” Her legs rested on top of yours as she kissed your cheek in appreciation. You chuckled, doing the same to her while your hand rested on her thigh. You inched further, watching her shuffle impossibly closer to you as a result.

“You know what I think? I think that my girl deserves a little reward for just how well she did.” Your thumb made contact with her tip, the action bringing a shiver throughout Nat’s body. She grinned through a bitten lip, her cheeks turning a shade of red as you removed the skin from her teeth.

“You need to stop that, baby, you know I don’t like it.” She rushed a quick apology before a small gasp left her. She removed the towel from her lower half, only to see your hand now wrapped around her length, stroking a continued motion slowly.

“M- Mommy, that feels really nice.” You hummed, your eyes falling to the area of attention. You removed your hand, causing a whine of disapproval from your girlfriend. You shushed her, guiding her to lay on her back as she spotted her stuffed animal. It was a plush dinosaur that you got her years ago, she still cherished it. You pressed a kiss to her forehead before doing the same to the soft creature in her arms.

“Close your eyes, I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?” She questioned when you stood in front of the door. You turned to look at her as you removed your shirt, exposing the black bra to her eyesight. They widened, her cock hardening even further before you closed the door behind you. She tried to follow your orders of sitting tight and closing her eyes, but the anticipation was so high. She wanted to know what you were doing, she wanted to feel your touch again. Her palm lowered down her body without realization, and she couldn’t hold back the whimper as she brushed over her balls. They were so sensitive, but you always said that was your favorite part about them.

“Natty, baby? Are your eyes closed?” She retracted her hand instantly, hoping you wouldn’t get a glance at her antics. You were never one for letting her touch herself, she suspected that wasn’t going to change tonight.

“Yup!” She heard the door squeak and had to fight the urge to look, but she remained how you wanted her, and she knew that pleased you when she heard small cooing.

“Aren’t you just the cutest little girl ever? Mommy is so, so lucky to have you, bear.” You ran your cool hands against her nipples, resulting in the buds hardening. She stifled a moan as you went lower, your fingers tracing over the same area she had just teased. She hoped you couldn’t tell, she never knew how but you seemed to know everything, especially when it came to her.

“I could just…eat you up!” Your hand enclosed around her cock, creating the same movements as you started earlier. She was grateful to have the return of your touch, but it wasn’t quite enough. Her hips thrusted with every stroke, her desperation being made clear to anyone who could see her.

“Oh, did you need something?” She whimpered when you came to a halt, your thumb collecting the pre cum from her drooling tip. You rubbed it over her bottom lip, letting her get a taste of the sweet nectar you grew addicted to.

“You, I…I want you.”

“But you have me, don’t you?” Your condescending tone brought her to quiver in excitement and fear.

“I need to be in you, Mommy…please?” You crooned, hovering over her length and letting the head tease your folds. You moaned, rubbing your clit in small circles. You continued until she couldn’t bear it anymore and finally let yourself soak in the pleasure, and allowing her to feel your warm walls clenching around her.

“Fuck, my little girl is so big, can barely even fit.” You groaned, interlacing your fingertips with hers. She seemed content with the praise and let her hips follow your movements, hoping she was doing it correctly in order to make you feel good, but that was quickly proven by your high-pitched moans.

“Right- right there- ah! Don’t stop, baby, don’t you dare fucking stop!” You leaned your face down, admiring the fact that she continued to comply to your request even in a state of such arousal.

“You can open your eyes now, bear.” She fluttered them open, blinking twice as she came to register the sight in front of her. The mask covered your face, the black paint looking into her eyes and she suddenly felt like someone else. She was no longer the killer, she was the victim.

“You like the mask? Yeah? Good, I was hoping you’d say that.” Your pants caused your chest to heave, your breasts bouncing in her face as a result. She removed a hand from yours, using her digits to caress the soft peaks before wrapping her lips around one, then switching to the other. The coil in her stomach tightened with each clench and each thrust, her eyes squeezing shut as she forced herself to slow down.

“Don’t hold back, bear, I want to feel your cum so deep inside of me.” She looked at you one more time for permission, using your short nod as approval to let go. Her teeth bit down gently as a result, causing you to hiss as she hurried to explain herself. You cut her off before she could speak, and she found herself unable to do so as she painted your walls white. You let her ride out her high, finding yourself unable to care for the orgasm you threatened yourself into having. It was cut short, and Nat wasn’t going to allow that.

“Mommy-”

“Shh, shh, don’t worry about me, just fill Mommy’s pussy.” Your tight hole greedily accepted her, and your womb greedily accepted her seed. You felt so full, but you were nowhere near done.

“You see this?” You pointed the knife in front of her, she gulped in fear before it led into hunger. You led the weapon to your chest as you leaned back, drawing it from the bottom of the mask to your lower waist. You grasped her palm, placing the knife in her hand as you allowed her to sit up. When doing so, her cock maneuvered inside of you, bringing a shudder of pleasure from both of you.

“I want you to mark me, baby. I want every single fucking soul to know exactly who’s Mommy I am.” She smiled, letting the object slowly and barely seep into you, it was just enough to leave a mark but nowhere near as bad to injure you greatly.

“And I want you to tell me while you write just how much of a good girl you are, and just how much Mommy loves their little bear.” You pet her head, rolling your eyes to the back of your head as she continued. You felt your hips threatening to repeat from earlier but held off until she finished.

“There, all done.” ‘Owner of Natty Bear’ was sloppily written on your skin, the blood dripping down your side as you praised the younger female.

“Mm, you did so good, Princess. Now, I think Mommy deserves a little treat, as well, yeah?” She nodded happily. “Alright, lay down, Mommy’s going to ride that cute face.”

608 notes · View notes

cheolaholic · 8 months

Text

ring of love; csc (03)

summary; agreeing to join vernon spectate an underground boxing match wasn't how you'd expect to spend your friday night. you also didn't expect to see seungcheol, someone you've lost contact with for years, become a part of the ring.

modern! au • boxer! au • hhu focused • multiple kinds of tropes • fluff, angst, smut

a/n; new chapter !! also added navigation and some lists to my profile where you can find right here <3 you can find my masterlist, idea/wip dump, a link to my ask box where you can send in thots, requests and even comments; alongside my ao3 ^^

hope you all enjoy this chapter and lmk if you can guess which korean web series one of the scenes are from 👀

hint: it involves a certain kpop group

it was the beginning of fall when your family moved to daegu.

though it wasn’t a big or dramatic move, since you’re moving from the big city to a smaller town in the same province, it was still big to you because it was your first moving experience.

you vividly remember watching the colored leaves fall from the branches and onto the pavement, being stepped on by pedestrians and you imagined they made those ‘crunch’ noises as depicted by the many cartoons you’ve watched.

you were only 5 years old.

“___, are you excited to see our new home?” your mother asked from the passenger seat, turning to see you kneeling on the backseat, admiring the outside view. you turned to her with a big smile, letting out an excited ‘mm!’.

smiling at your enthusiasm, your mother turned to your father who was driving; reaching out her hand and placing it over your father’s resting on the armrest of the car. “do you think she’ll like the place?”

intertwining his fingers with hers, your father gave your mother’s hand an assuring squeeze, “i’m sure she will,” he spoke, “if she doesn’t, we’ll just have to hope it grows on her.”

your mother laughs at your father’s statement; at the same time hoping that it wouldn’t come to that.

the car stops in front of a white double-story terrace house. the second floor had been extended into a balcony and you notice the few familiar plants from your previous house put on display. half of the wall on the outside of the second story was an exposed brick wall, which adds a little bit of red-orange aesthetic to the full white design of the house. the ground level had a black gate, with two front doors in the same colour with floor-to-ceiling tinted windows.

getting out of the car, you ran up to the gates, attempting to climb them before your mother rushed over and picked you up. “sweetie, that’s dangerous!” she pointed out, a frown on her face.

your father was at the boot of the car, stacking two of the many boxes together before making his way to the gates. “honey, the keys are in my back pocket, could you get it?” reaching out a hand into your father’s pocket and fishing out the keys. unlocking the gates and the front door, your mother placed you down on the ground to help your father with the boxes while you decide to explore the interior of the house.

running up the stairs to the second story of the house, there were three gray colored doors. being a curious child, of course you went through all three of them. you opened the first door that revealed the master bedroom, which of course is going to be occupied by your parents. the second door lead to a bathroom; and when you reached the third door - a pink sign was hung on the door with your name written on it.

pushing the door open, the first thing you noticed was a pink bed tucked nicely in one corner of the room. across it was a white study table with a few trinkets decorating the surface, followed by a wooden closet right next to it. at the foot of your bed stood a similar level bookshelf, filled with all your favorite books and coloring books; alongside some of your plush toys.

“do you like it, babygirl?” came your father’s voice from behind you. whirling around and flashing him a big smile, you excitedly nod your head as he crouched down to your level, giving your hair a ruffle.

“i’m glad you do.”

he then proceeded to pick you up and placed you over his shoulder, legs hanging over his shoulders. “daddy!” you squealed, giggling as he gave you a piggyback ride.

“honey! ___!” your mother called out, “come meet our neighbours!”

you stared down at the young boy from your father’s shoulder while he stared back up at you.

as your father sets you down from his shoulder, the roles switched; you’re now staring up at the boy while he stares down at you.

seeing how the staring contest would not end anytime soon, your mother placed her hands on your shoulders, introducing you to the young boy and the woman standing next to him who you deduced to be his mother.

“my, what an intense staring contest,” she chuckled. “we’re the lees’! that’s my husband, and this is ___, my daughter.”

“intense, indeed,” the woman chuckled. “we’re the chois’. it’s nice to meet you, ___. this boy here is seungcheol, my son. my husband’s out back dealing with the garden.”

she then looked down at seungcheol, lightly patting his shoulders, “cheol, did you bring what i asked you to?”

snapping out of the staring contest he was having with you, seungcheol handed you a paper bag which you accepted after getting a nod of confirmation from your mother. looking inside the bag, you see a container of brownies, a small ‘wah…’ leaving your lips.

“mom and i baked them last night! we hope you’ll like them!” seungcheol said with a big grin on his face.

placing a hand on your head, your mother smiles, “our little ___ will definitely like them. she has an incredible sweet tooth.”

“no, i do not!”

“___, sweetie,” your father spoke up, “you ate half a tub of ice cream in half an hour.”

“daddyy!!”

you were 7 when your little crush on seungcheol began.

you were in the playground, swinging on the swingset with your bear plush in your lap when a group of boys approached you. “that’s our swing,” one of the boys spoke, arms crossed as they stared down at you.

you stopped swinging and looked at the group, “you can’t claim a swing. it’s a playground for everyone.” visibly upset by your response, the boys stepped closer so that they would tower over you. “well, this is our swing now. get off.”

“no.”

you could see the face of the boys turn red - from anger and embarrassment that you were refusing to follow their instructions. as they continued to stare down at you, one of them noticed your bear plush, snatching it out from your lap.

“hey!” you shouted, getting off the swing to try and get your plush back, “give him back!”

“nuh-uh,” the boy retorted, raising it up above his head so you can’t reach it, “that’s what you get for sitting on our swing!”

you then shove at the boy, crying out, “i said give him back!”

“back off, girlie!” another boy said, shoving you back with a harder force, causing you to fall back onto the ground of the playground.

as the boys walked away with your bear plush, leaving you to cry on the ground. they tossed it around, occasionally dropping it on the floor and purposefully stepping on the poor plush, later on acting as if they didn’t mean to do so. witnessing the boys’ treatment towards your plush, you pulled your knees to your chest, hugging it as your cries grew louder.

“___?” a worried seungcheol called out.

crouching down in front of you, seungcheol places a hand on your head, gently petting it in an attempt to comfort you. “___, what happened? why are you crying? are you hurt anywhere?” you attempted to answer him. but, due to your crying, you had a hard time forming words, only letting out harsh pants and whimpers.

“easy there, ___,” seungcheol said softly, “take a deep breath, okay?”

when your crying calmed down, the older boy heard the laughters of the group of boys. turning his head towards their direction, he saw them taking turns throwing a plush bear at each other. seungcheol recognised the plush bear - it was the very same plush he had gifted you on your 7th birthday.

he then turned back to you, noticing that you were looking at the group with a frown on your face. pressing his thumb against your forehead, he gave you a gentle smile, “don’t frown like that, you’ll get wrinkles.”

turning back to the group, he let out a sigh, “they took your bear?”

you sniffled as you nod your head, wiping the snot from your nose with the sleeves of your hoodie. “do you want me to get it back for you?”

“p-please…”

nodding his head, seungcheol got back up on his feet, ruffling your hair before making his way towards the group of boys.

“hey, you rascals over there!” he called out.

you don’t know why, but you felt your heart race, a small blush forming on your face.

after seungcheol had gotten your bear plush back from the group of boys (mainly by scaring them off because imagine an older, taller boy approaching you with a scary look after talking to the girl whose bear you had snatched), he walked you back to your house.

as his parents were out working, it wasn’t unusual for seungcheol to spend some time at your place with your parents as he waited for his to return home. sitting beside you on the porch of the backyard of your back garden, seungcheol was eating a piece of brownie your mom had baked while you enjoyed a cone of vanilla ice cream.

“you need to learn to stand up for yourself, ___,” seungcheol spoke, placing the now empty plate next to him and looked at you. “but, i have you to protect me!” you responded with a smile on your face, earning a small laugh from the boy. “i know, ___. but, i can’t always be there for you.”

“d-does this mean you’re leaving me…?” you asked, tears welling up in your eyes. “oh, ___,” seungcheol said softly as he places a hand on your head, “that’s not what i mean. i meant it as in, there will be times where i can’t always be with you. you remind me of a puppy,” he chuckled. “maybe that can be a nickname for you, hmm?”

when your eyes light up and nod excitedly at the older boy, he lets out another laugh and ruffles your hair.

“alright then, pup.”

taglist (unable to tag a few ㅠㅠ)

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"Show Me & Teach Me" Part III - A Heart Full to Bursting

Neteyam x fem!Omatikaya OC Part III Summary: Will Seyla finally find the courage to tell Neteyam how she feels?

Content: SMUT 18+ MDNI, angst & fluff, pining, protective Neteyam, romance, Neteyam is your mentor, teacher-student chemistry, eventual happy ending, slight age-gap fetish, older man-younger woman. Word count: 9.3k

Part I - Show Me & Teach Me Part II - I Like Your Stars Better

Author’s Note: I apologise for the delay between Part II and this final Part III. I’ve had a difficult few weeks at work and I can’t write when I’m tired, the words just don’t flow. But here it finally is! The conclusion to Neteyam and Seyla’s journey. This part is more emotional than the last, but it’s no less spicy. Enjoy! 😉

***~~~***

It had started as a dull ache at first, just a mild pressure in Seyla’s chest that niggled at her throughout her days; three unspoken words whispering and swirling gently in the tender depths of her heart. I love you...

She kept them a secret.

The small ache had then grown, ebbing and flowing like the modest currents of the spring water streams that ran down through the mountains and hills, feeding into faster-flowing waters. And as more time passed, the three words began to chant themselves louder within her, the ache surging into capricious currents like river rapids that frothed and churned, filling her heart with a deep yearning to speak what she felt aloud. I love you, Neteyam…

But still, Seyla kept her lips sealed.

Now, the three unspoken words roared like furious thunder in her soul, demanding to be freed so they could dance on her tongue and slip past her lips into the realm of spoken truth. It was almost unbearable how full her heart felt, so full it was close to bursting. The pressure was almost akin to pain.

Seyla did not know whether it was her timidity, her fear or just plain youthful inexperience that caused her to cling on so tightly to her silence. Perhaps it was a combination of all three. She had no doubt about her feelings; there was nothing she felt more certain of in her life. She loved Neteyam. Her heart was his to possess and yet she could not find the courage to speak the words.

The only times she was distracted from the agonising ache was when she was deep in concentration; focused singularly on a complex healing task at work, or focused so entirely on Neteyam during another one of their lessons. Indeed, her heart was not the only thing too full of him at the present moment. Her mouth was currently also too full to speak the verity in her heart even if she wanted to.

A deep, rumbling moan sounded from Neteyam as his hands threaded themselves into Seyla’s beaded braids where she was knelt before him, his cock in her mouth. His grip was firm and her braids pulled against her scalp where he had fisted them in his hands, but the slight pain was pleasurable, Seyla found.

Running one hand in a tantalising caress along the inside of one of his thighs, she moaned keenly, bobbing her head while she worked his beautifully hard length in and out of the wet heat of her mouth. Her other hand was wrapped tightly around the base of his cock where it was too far down for her mouth to reach, and she stroked him in time with the bobbing of her head.

A string of expletives ground their way out from between Neteyam’s gritted teeth, “Fuck, that feels so good. You’re getting too good at this, numeyu (student).”

Hollowing her cheeks and drawing up his length with a long, slow suck, Seyla’s lips popped free of his cock with a soft slurp and she looked up at him through coquettish eyes, “Mm, I’ve got a good tutor.”

With her bright green eyes never leaving his, she stuck her tongue out and began to run it in a slow swipes from side to side against the sensitive, ridged underside of his cock head. The move earned her a strangled grunt from Neteyam and a little spurt of pre-cum against her tongue, salty and sweet. His head lolled backward against the bark of the tree he was leaning against and she revelled in the way his breaths came in deep heaves; each one causing his broad chest and shoulders to expand and contract raggedly.

Seyla could feel her own arousal like a thumping beat between her thighs. Her sensitive flesh tingled and she was sure she could feel core drenching itself in slick. She absolutely relished seeing Neteyam like this, completely undone and unguarded. It made her feel empowered in a way she had never felt before to have such a formidable male at her mercy.

“Yawntu, please stop teasing.” Neteyam’s words were a pleading whine and his grip tightened in her braids, though he made no move to force Seyla’s head closer to him. She giggled. He was ever the gentleman even amid his burning desire.

Licking a teasing stripe up his length, she conceded to his request and took him into her mouth again, carefully puckering her lips like he had taught her so she would not nick him with her teeth. Enjoying the way his girth stretched the moist confines of her mouth, she slowly pressed her head down until he hit the back of her throat, before pulling back up again in another tormenting suck.

Seyla carried on at her unhurried pace, making sure to pay special attention to the swollen tip of his cock every time she bobbed back up to it with a particular suck and swirl of her tongue. She caressed his balls with her free hand, encircling them in a loose grip and fondling them with her thumb and fingers. Neteyam emitted a whimper and his hips jerked.

Humming in satisfaction when his cock hardened impossibly further in her mouth, Seyla brazenly reached down with another hand to touch herself. Her fingers ran easily past her core, collecting the slippery moisture that had pooled there. Her eyes lifted to Neteyam’s face again and she found him watching her with a slack jaw and hooded eyes. Raising her slick-soaked fingers from her core, she ran them smoothly up the skin of his thigh, leaving a glistening trail of dampness in their wake, all the while still dutifully bobbing and sucking like a conscientious student.

Neteyam’s face twisted and he panted wantonly, his hips squirming a little under her ministrations, “Seyla, please.”

Drawing back off him again with another pop so she could speak, Seyla purred, “Please, what? Tell me what you want karyu (teacher).” She continued to fondle his length with a hand, squeezing and stroking his shaft, but she stopped her strokes just short of the sensitive head in a deliberate move to tease.

It was at times like this that Seyla amazed herself. She had discovered a feminine confidence within herself these last couple of moons in these provocative situations with Neteyam. She took control where she wanted to, whispered filthy things to him, coaxed whimpers from him and made him beg with a self-assurance she never knew she possessed.

It was ironic really. She was like a bold palulukan during their carnal evening explorations, but when it came to voicing the ardent emotions she harboured for him in her heart, she was like a wilting tsawksyul (sun lily).

A bead of pre-cum seeped out from his cock and Seyla swiftly cleaned it away with a keen lick of her tongue. Neteyam had yet to give her an answer, but he appeared too consumed by his pleasure in that moment as she proceeded to play with him even further. She toyed gently with the mushroom-shaped tip, softly caressing it in small up and down strokes with only her fingertips.

Neteyam was clearly becoming impatient in his endeavour to find ecstasy. He pumped his hips lightly, seeking more friction against the devilry her hands were wreaking upon him. Deciding to indulge him a bit, Seyla clasped his length firmly with both hands and allowed him to thrust into her grasp. She lowered her head towards her hands and positioned her lips in such a way that would permit the head of his cock to press against her puckered lips in a salacious kiss with each upward thrust of his hips.

The daylight was diminishing quickly now with the onset of eclipse and Seyla absorbed the masculine vision before her in the tawny light. Neteyam’s tanhì (bioluminescent freckles) were aglow now in the darkening atmosphere. His skin glistened with a sheen of perspiration and a single rivulet of sweat was beading its way down his sternum between impressive pectorals. The muscles of his abdomen and his thighs flexed from time to time with his thrusts and by Eywa did he smell divine.

An intoxicating musk was pouring off him, a rich aroma of woodland pine and pure male sex appeal. It made Seyla very much wish that his cock was filling something else of hers instead of her hands. Her core pulsed and clenched in want between her legs, disappointed at the emptiness it felt which she knew would be so satisfyingly filled by the beautiful, hard cock pumping in and out of her grasp.

But she and Neteyam had yet to cross that line. And besides, they were late for dinner at his family’s home now too.

Seyla saw Neteyam’s gaze flicker briefly to the darkening horizon as if he too was registering the latter-mentioned fact. His lips peeled back from his teeth in an unsatisfied grimace and he panted at her through his thrusts, “I’m so close. Can you be a sweet girl and finish me off like I taught you last time?”

Seyla felt a spark of excitement rush through her at the memory of their last encounter. Neteyam had guided her around what he liked and he had been a striking and wild picture of pleasure when she had thrown him over the edge. “Yes, karyu.”

Remembering what she was taught, she grasped his balls with her left hand in a firm grip, snug enough that she felt the skin of his scrotum pulling but not so tight as to be painful. A pleasure-filled hiss from Neteyam confirmed she was right. Encircling his shaft with her right hand, she positioned it at the base to hold him still before wrapping her lips over the swollen tip of his cock. Focusing just on the tip, Seyla began to bob her head quickly, the flat of her tongue roving over the oozing slit at the top with each rapid draw and suck.

Neteyam’s reaction was immediate and a long, throaty groan exhaled from him, “Oh Great Mother, yes. Just like that, yawntu.”

Seyla knew he would not last long based on the telltale stuttering of his hips and the shuddering of his breaths. He was so beautiful like this, all rippling muscle and moaning with wild abandon as he hurtled towards his peak. She felt her own nipples stiffen at the stimulating sight and the throbbing want between her own legs intensified.

His groans were getting harsher now and Seyla felt one of his hands leave her braids to cup her jaw, which she had learned was his indication that he was about to orgasm. She was not going to pull away though. She wanted to taste him on her tongue and imbibe every drop of the essence he was about to gift her.

Neteyam’s entire frame tensed and Seyla took a quick and indulgent glance at his face, noting how his jaw was dropped and his eyes were screwed shut while he sailed over the edge into oblivion. Gorgeous. She pressed her head down, taking his length as far as she could go. She felt his cock harden before it pulsed and jumped, hot fluid spattering the back of her throat as she instinctively swallowed it all down with a gratified moan.

The stifled cries of bliss from Neteyam as he came were music to Seyla’s ears and she rubbed his thighs relaxingly while he came down from his climax. She slowly drew her mouth back over his sensitised flesh one last time to clean him off before she released him, licking her lips demurely and patting the sides of her mouth with her hands to make sure she had not missed any stray drops.

A breath blew out from Neteyam’s lips and he chuckled at her with a shake of his head, “By Eywa, look at you, you’re so beautiful on your knees. Pleased with yourself, are you? Enjoyed your dessert before dinner?”

Seyla rose elegantly to her feet with a smug smile, “Very pleased.”

She moved to pluck her loincloth from where it lay over a nearby rock, but she felt Neteyam catch her wrist and spin her to face him. Clutching her against him, Neteyam stole a hungry kiss from her. Evidently his desire had not been completely slaked.

“We’re late for dinner now and it’s all your fault.” Neteyam murmured against her lips, his hot hands roaming in a searing trail down her back and over her pert bottom.

“You needed it.” Seyla breathed in return, “You were so wound up after the disagreement you had earlier with the other warriors. You were strung tighter than a bowstring that’s too short for its bow. Do you regret my offer?”

“No, I could never regret that delightful mouth of yours.” Neteyam’s hands roved past the cleft of her buttocks and she gasped when two of his fingers slipped easily through her folds to breach her core. He smirked, devilishly handsome, while he curled his fingers within her tight heat and revelled in the way Seyla writhed against him, “Perhaps the only thing I regret about letting you have your way with me is that I now have to wait until after dinner for my own dessert. I’m not done with you, yawntu. We’ll finish what you started later.”

***~~~***

Dinner with the Sullys went tremendously. The comfortable teasing and banter they all shared was both a wonder and a comfort to Seyla who had grown up an only child. They shared the happenings of their day with each other, joking and laughing as they ate.

Neteyam had been incredibly attentive to Seyla the whole evening. Not that his family had excluded her by any means, but knowing she was shy, he had made sure to keep her included in conversation and had encouraged her with a squeeze of her knee whenever she spoke. He had checked what foods she preferred and consistently ensured she had enough on her grazing mat, topping it up with more teylu grub, stewed yerik, spiced grains and leafy greens as she ate. In return, Seyla had peeled and cored the various fruits they shared afterward. They had fed each other fragrant pieces of sweet fruit by hand, so wrapped up in each other that they were completely oblivious to the quietly approving eyes of the rest of the family, Neytiri and Mo’at in particular.

“They make a very sweet pair, sa’nok. She’s a good choice for Neteyam.” Neytiri remarked under her breath, sitting alongside her mother as they enjoyed their dessert of fruit.

Mo’at’s eyes crinkled in the corners, a wizened smile gracing her lips as she watched her grandson and his betrothed. They were sat closely together, their crossed knees touching. Their sides were pressed against each other’s and their tails were twined like lianas while the downy tufts of hair at the ends whipped and frolicked in a frisky tango with each other. The tsahìk breathed a tranquil breath, “Yes, they suit each other remarkably well and the bond they share is deep.”

“Seyla is blessed by the Great Mother too. I can feel the grace of Eywa about her. Her heart is tender, but her spirit is strong.” Neytiri added, chortling to herself when she saw Seyla attempting to fend off another piece of fruit, which Neteyam was trying to coax into her mouth.

“Indeed, she will be a formidable tsahìk in time. I daresay they will be among the greatest leaders the Omatikaya have ever seen.” Mo’at agreed, “Eywa calls to them both, maite. It won’t be long, I feel, before we will be celebrating their blessed union.”

“No, not long indeed.” Neytiri smiled, feeling balmy warmth swell in her heart at the sight of the young pair. She recognised the expression Neteyam wore, his attention focused singularly on the young woman beside him as he beamed at her through golden eyes that were radiant with contentment. Her son was absolutely besotted and it only warmed Neytiri further to see the same enamoured expression mirrored on Seyla’s face.

“One more.” Neteyam cajoled, lifting another saccharine fruitlet to Seyla’s lips. Her giggles were infectious and he tittered along with her, playfully zipping his hand this way and that to avoid her repeated attempts to bat him away.

“No, I’m full! I’ll be sick otherwise. The fruit is very sweet!” Seyla twittered, twisting away from his fruit-laden fingers.

“Just like you are.” Neteyam said, yielding to her wishes and slipping the fruity morsel into his own mouth instead, “Although, I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you, yawntu.” He bumped his nose softly against her cheek in a tender nuzzle and winked at her, before helping himself to more fruit.

Seyla sucked in a small breath at his affectionate words and she felt herself flush from her cheeks all the way to the pointed tips of her ears. There it was again, that teeming pressure in her chest and the uncomfortable tingling on her lips; an ever-mounting urge to confess to him how she felt.

Great Mother, Neteyam was so beautiful. His cerulean skin gleamed slightly in the lambent glow of the firelight and Seyla particularly enjoyed the lean flex of the muscles on his broad back as he reached across the platters of food to pick at more teylu grub. Physical appeal aside, Neteyam was also a good man, a much-loved brother and son, and a wonderfully attentive partner.

Neteyam was her betrothed. They had kissed, played and enjoyed each other’s bodies for many weeks now, and she had known him and respected him as her mentor for far longer still. He had been clear in his initial affection for her, had asked her to accept him as her future mate, so why was she struggling to tell him she loved him?

Or perhaps her struggle was fuelled by the underlying insecurity of the converse question: Why had Neteyam not told her he loved her?

Those three words that hankered to escape the confines of her sealed lips had not crossed the threshold of his either. Maybe he did not feel for her as deeply as she did for him and Seyla did not want to make a fool of herself by being too eager.

“Seyla!” Tuk called from across the space, approaching them with a cheery grin, “I hate to peel you away from my brother, but can you re-do my braids for me, please? You’re so good at them. Besides, we’re overdue some girl time and Lo’ak is being gross over there.”

A loud burp sounded from the far corner where Lo’ak was lounging and Kiri swatted his thigh before scrambling away from him. She heartily agreed with Tuk, “Yep! He’s got enough gas to light a bonfire currently.”

“Hey, man!” Lo’ak protested with an exaggerated pout, patting his distended belly, “Go easy on me. I feel like I’ve eaten an entire sturmbeest cow.”

Neteyam gave an emphatic laugh, “You look like you’ve eaten a cow, bro!” He placed a warm kiss on Seyla’s forehead then and gestured for her to join Kiri and Tuk where they were seated not far away. His voice was low as he uttered a promise, “I’ll catch you later. I haven’t had my dessert yet, remember?.”

Seyla’s eyes widened at him in shocked warning, hoping his voice had been quiet enough that no one had overheard his comment, but she grinned at him anyway and joked, “Go, I think Lo’ak might need your help burping him. Firm pats on the back should do it.”

Kiri was already helping Tuk to undo the existing braids of her hair and Seyla moved to join the two women. Being only a couple of years older than Tuk, Seyla was closer to her than she was to the other Sully siblings. She and Tuk had been in the same circle of friends as children and she had a few fond memories of the games they used to play together.

“Your hair is getting so long.” Seyla breathed, settling herself at Tuk’s back as Kiri moved over to make space for her, “It’s nice and thick and healthy too.”

“Groundnut oil, like you said. Works wonders for the hair.” Tuk beamed.

“Yes, I’m sure Tuk wants to look her best to impress her tunutu (crush).” Kiri teased, jabbing Tuk lightly in the ribs, which the young woman protested with a playful swat at her older sister.

Seyla sucked in an excited breath, chortling impishly at the topic of conversation, “Ooh, who is it?” She ran her fingers through Tuk’s hair and her skilled hands began their braiding work, “You’re stuck here now while I do your hair so you have plenty of time to tell me about him.”

Tuk gave a narked harrumph and Seyla saw Kiri laugh at what must have been a glower on her younger sister’s face.

Kiri snorted with an eyeroll, busying her hands with some flax weaving, “She isn’t going to tell you so you’re going to have to guess. I’ll help you.”

“Kiri!” Tuk squealed in complaint, though her tone held more embarrassment than heat.

“Is he around our age?” Seyla queried. Tuk stubbornly remained mute, but Kiri shook her head and tilted her head upward in a hint. “Oh, older? Let’s see, what does he do?”

The kittenish game carried on, Seyla guessing various occupations and making several deductions based on Kiri’s enthusiastic hints and expressions. Tuk was muttering curses under her breath at the discomfiture of the whole situation though she had no choice but to sit still while Seyla finished her hair.

“It doesn’t matter.” Tuk grumbled, “He doesn’t take any notice of me.”

“Well, why don’t you go up to him and talk to him?” The suggestion earned Seyla a pointed look from both Kiri and Tuk, who turned to purse her lips at her with an expression of scepticism.

“That’s a bit rich coming from you, oh shy one. You barely speak to anyone you’re not familiar with.” Tuk retorted.

“I just mean that maybe you should put yourself out in his space? Greet him as you walk past? I don’t know. I can’t really offer any tips if I don’t know what he does or who he is.”

Another peevish harrumph from Tuk, “I would go and put myself in his space, but he’s never alone.” Her sentence was punctuated with a sulky pout and she turned her head slightly to shoot a glower in the direction of her older brothers.

A distant memory of her and Tuk talking about boys as children wafted through Seyla’s mind as she registered the scowl on the other girl’s face... An image of the warriors’ party coming and going on their daily assignments came next, and her brain conjured clear recollections of Neteyam and Lo’ak laughing and joking with one of their warrior friends…

A bright spark went off in her brain and Seyla gasped by Tuk’s ear, “Ateyo?”

A startled gulp from Tuk and a victorious hoot of laughter from Kiri was all the confirmation Seyla needed that her guess was correct.

“Shhh! Stop it!” Tuk squirmed, swatting lightly at Kiri again who evidently found the entire situation incredibly entertaining. Tuk cast wary eyes in the direction of her brothers, “Be quiet or they’ll hear you!”

Reaching for another bead to adorn the braid she was working on, Seyla chuckled, “I remember you liked him even when we were kids!”

Tuk shifted self-consciously on her crossed legs and sighed dreamily, “He was cute when we were young. Now he’s hot. Don’t tell Neteyam or Lo’ak or I’ll never stand a chance! They’ll think he’s too old for me.”

Kiri scoffed, turning her flaxen work over and holding it up to the light so she could check her patterning, “Ateyo is only four years older than you. You’re grown now, Tuk, our brothers shouldn’t be meddling. Besides, Neteyam can’t really talk on that point.” Her perceptive eyes fixed on Seyla and they narrowed deliberately while a grin played on her lips.

“Well, Seyla is two years older than me. Plus, you know what Lo’ak is like. Ateyo really looks up to him and Neteyam, and I don’t want Lo’ak to pull the whole ‘don’t touch my baby sister’ shit on him.” Tuk griped, reaching back to carefully pluck at one of her finished braids. She surveyed Seyla’s handiwork with admiration and gave her a grateful smile.

“One last bead,” Seyla breathed, her skilful fingers securing the last braid, “And there, you’re done.”

Tuk ran a gentle hand over her head, patting at her new braids and she turned to give Seyla a hug, “Thank you, sister!”

“Immaculate work as always.” Kiri praised, tucking a loose strand of her own chin-length hair behind her ear, “The only time I feel a tiny inkling of desire to grow my hair out is after seeing the results of your beautiful braiding, Seyla.”

Seyla smiled appreciatively in response at Kiri’s words and returned Tuk’s hug with equal fervour. She placed her hands on Tuk’s shoulders as they drew away from each other and she said, “Mantis orchids are in season right now and our healers’ stock of the flower’s nectar is running low. The orchids bloom their widest at night. I think you should be brave and ask Ateyo to accompany you on an evening walk while you gather more mantis orchid nectar for your grandmother.”

“Just like you should be brave and tell my brother you love him?” Tuk’s riposte came without missing a beat and Seyla’s breath caught in her throat on her next inhale, and she choked, coughing.

“Tuk.” Kiri reproached her sister, knowing her remark bordered on inappropriate as it touched on a very personal subject. Her eyes still held a twinkle of mirth though and her smile was astute as she regarded Seyla.

Seyla felt the saliva in her mouth dry up. Her ability to speak also proceeded to abandon her in a poof of smoke and she felt hot blood rushing to her face and neck in mortification. Great Mother, was she that obvious?

“I don’t- I mean, we haven’t-”

Tuk was now sporting a shit-eating grin that could rival Lo’ak’s at Seyla’s discomposure, and Seyla knew this was her friend’s cheeky payback for being teased about Ateyo.

Tuk gave Seyla’s knee a supportive pat, “It’s OK, it’s not just you. You’re both really obvious.”

“You’ve got that look on your face when you look at Neteyam.” Kiri added, “That moony-eyed and slightly constipated look that people wear when their heart is bursting to jump up their throat and out their mouth.”

Squirming under the scrutiny, Seyla murmured under her breath, “I don’t want to be too forward.”

“He loves you too, I know it.” Kiri reassured, “My brother is good at many things and he’s a fairly open person, but he’s shy with his words especially where he feels deeply about something. He’s a mighty warrior, but even the bravest of warriors will be less than mighty when it comes to matters of the heart.”

Tuk nudged Seyla’s side with a giggle, “I’ll do you a deal. I’ll ask Ateyo out if you tell Neteyam how you feel.”

“Only if you’re ready, Seyla.” Kiri countered with a pointed glance at Tuk, “But don’t be afraid to speak your truth if it’s burning in your heart. Be brave for my brother and tell him.”

***~~~***

The light twittering of the insects and the gentle croons and calls of the nocturnal wildlife resonated through the woodlands like a peaceful melody. Their swift footfalls lit a bioluminescent trail on the mossy ground as Neteyam and Seyla jogged toward the forest loft that served as their private retreat.

The nights were cooling off rapidly with the approach of the cold season, but their speedy pace as they headed for their destination kept them warm. Seyla trotted ahead of Neteyam, her heart beating both in excitement as well as in nervous anticipation of what was to come. The jogging kept her warm now, but she knew that the sensual activities they were soon to engage in would do more than stave off the cold. Neteyam wanted his dessert and she was going to let him indulge.

She felt a playful tweak on the tuft of her tail behind her and Seyla increased her pace, laughing. This was a game they often played. Neteyam was understandably stronger and faster than she was, and the only reason he always ran behind her was because he enjoyed chasing her flicking tail.

Reaching the familiar cluster of tall trees where their loft hung, Seyla scaled a massive trunk with Neteyam hot on her heels, reaching for one last tug of her tail. He succeeded just as she reached the flat of the woven platform and she squealed, whirling away from him.

“You can be such a child sometimes!” Seyla laughed, her chest heaving slightly from the physical exertion of the climb.

“How many times did I get you today? Four? Five?” Neteyam questioned, chasing her over to the warm rugs and blankets they had laid out in a corner over the past few moons. “You have to keep me guessing a little better.”

“Like a child.” Seyla admonished again with no real crossness in her tone, her expression mirthful.

Neteyam dipped his chin, his gaze turning predatory, and she spied the roguish weaving of his tail behind him. She watched him intently, loving the way his eyes glowed with mischief and his tanhì glimmered in the darkened atmosphere. Great Mother, he looked anything but childlike. He was an imposing picture of masculinity; like a stone-cold hunter that had identified his next target, whose countenance held the promise of the most delightful kind of danger that she was quite happy to fall prey to.

Seyla remained undaunted. On the contrary, her heart gave a tight squeeze, full of fondness as Neteyam stalked her towards the blanketed corner. Though his eyes were hungry, his smile was warm and her arms instinctively twined around his neck when he lunged forward to envelope her about the waist and take her to ground.

He laid them both on their sides facing each other and showered a series of kisses over her forehead and cheeks, “Thank you for coming to dinner with my family again tonight. It means a lot to see you getting to know them all. I hope we weren’t too rowdy.”

“It was wonderful. Your family has always been very welcoming.”

“You looked like you had quite a good time with my sisters. What were you all talking about?”

A nervous pang hit Seyla at the recollection of her conversation with his sisters and Kiri’s words rang in her ears; be brave for my brother and tell him… She licked her lips and swallowed, suddenly feeling edgy. Remembering Neteyam was still awaiting an answer, she brushed the subject away, “Just girl stuff. Secret girl stuff.”

“Yeah?” Neteyam did not look at all deterred from the topic. He trailed a warm hand down Seyla’s arm, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles and then each of her fingertips, “You’re not supposed to keep secrets from your betrothed, yawntu.”

Eywa help her… Seyla gulped and gave a taut chuckle and tried feebly again to end the conversation by making it seem mundane, “We were just talking rubbish about boys.”

If anything, her remark had the opposite intended effect and Neteyam cocked his head coyly at her, “Are your eyes wandering towards other men, Seyla?”

“No!” She gasped in a mild panic, and while her next words refuted his statement, they also damned her further into the conversation she was trying to get out of, “We were talking about you!”

“Oh? What about me?” Neteyam’s voice was a low and teasing rumble, but Seyla found nothing about her present circumstances funny.

Her eyes were wide as she stammered, trying and failing to find an answer. Seyla froze, looking at Neteyam who had his head propped up on one elbow as he surveyed her. She probably looked like a stunned yerik facing the pointed tip of a hunter’s arrow.

The truth in her heart swelled and the pressure amplified in her chest. The words she so badly wanted to say crept up her tightening throat. She was a little concerned that she was going to be sick, but there was no nauseous roil in her belly, just a jumble of nervous flutters.

You know he loves you… he has shown you that he does through his actions… Seyla’s brain supplied encouragingly. His sisters, those closest to him have reassured you…

Sure enough, Neteyam sensed her upset and he was quick to soothe her, “Hey, it’s alright. You don’t have to tell me. I was just teasing you.”

A little bit of the pressure in Seyla’s chest fizzled out and she shook her head with another attempt at sounding light-hearted, “Sorry, it’s girl code.”

A chuckle rumbled through his chest, “I can accept that you were talking about me and not to me. As long as you were only saying good things.” Neteyam ended his statement with a wink at her.

Seyla forced a grin and rolled gently onto her back, pillowing her head on a small bolster roll, relieved that at least she did not have to lie, “Yes, it was only good things.” A yawn overcame her then and she rubbed lightly at her eyes.

“Tired? Grandmother said that it was busy today in the healers’ hut.” Neteyam asked, to which he received a bleary nod in response. He chuckled again and reached out to stroke her cheek, “Just rest then, go to sleep.”

Seyla’s heart was galloping behind her ribs and she still felt on edge. Sleep would not find her easily in this state and besides, she wanted Neteyam to have his dessert. He was about to roll onto his own back and get comfortable when she protested his movements and pulled him in for a kiss.

She slanted her lips against his and his upper body moved to shelter hers as he deepened the kiss with a groan. It never failed to amaze Seyla how he stole her breath from her every time. Her blood began to heat and everywhere, all over, she felt like she was liquefying into a pool of desire. She wanted him, all of him.

Neteyam drew away slightly and the cold air of the night caressed her lips again at the absence of his warm mouth. He spoke, “We don’t have to do this. I know what I said earlier, but you’re tired and you should sleep.”

“No, I want you to touch me.” Seyla took hold of one of his wrists and manoeuvred it to cup one of her breasts through the delicate string of leaves over her chest. Still sensing and seeing the hesitation on his face, she added, “It’ll relax me and help me sleep. Please?”

With a shake of his head, Neteyam took a deep inhale before his breath whistled out of him in a sigh that sounded very much like a surrender, “I can’t deny you anything, yawntu. You have me wrapped around your finger. And I guess I’m happy to help myself to dessert too. Just relax, sweet girl.”

He claimed her lips again with so much fervour it was a little painful and Seyla clutched at his face with both hands, letting her mouth fall open to his plundering. This would be an apt distraction from the yearning in her heart. The pleasure would divert her attention away from it and a climax would relax her enough to find sleep.

Her heart gave a hard and petulant thump, almost as if it wanted to challenge her cunning plan.

Neteyam’s lips roved over her neck and chest, and her chest covering was swiftly discarded. He busied his mouth with the supple skin of her breasts, his tongue and lips worshipping her peaked nipples in hot and moist suckles. Seyla let her eyelids slide shut and she focused on the pleasurable madness that he continued to wreak upon her body.

I love you… The thought speared through her conscience. Seyla pushed it away, doubling down on her efforts to concentrate elsewhere.

The ties of her loincloth were being loosened by large, hot hands and she lifted her hips to help Neteyam shimmy the fabric from her hips and legs. She heard him groan at the bare sight of her, which made her lips quirk a little.

Pressing his lips to the inside of her thigh, his hot breath tickled her sensitive skin, “You’re so perfect, Seyla, and you’re all mine.”

His words sent her heart into overdrive, her tender emotions spiking exponentially. Seyla’s conscience chimed in yet again, tell him how you feel… he has claimed you as his… tell him you love him…

She was panting now, but she was unsure if it was because of the rising tidal wave of emotion within her, or because of the fact that Neteyam had buried his face at her core. Heady bursts of pleasure shot through her as he lapped and suckled at the little nub of nerve endings above her entrance. Her core pulsed in bliss under his attentions and a wanton moan escaped her when he snaked two fingers inside her.

However, despite the pleasure, Seyla was trying and failing to lose herself in it.

Her emotions had risen to the challenge and they were steadily overwhelming her. Her plan was not working... She could feel that her entire body was tense from the mounting anxiety, and a painful lump was forming in her throat where she had clamped her tongue to the roof of her mouth in a bid to stem the pressure.

Speak the words... Be brave… She pressed her fist against her open mouth, the points of her teeth digging into the bony protrusions of her knuckles. It caused her pain, but it was yet another helpful distraction from the pressing burden of the words that threatened to evict itself from her body by force.

Eywa, she was being absolutely ridiculous... Why was she so afraid? This was Neteyam, her Neteyam…

Seyla knew there was no escaping her predicament anymore. She had kept her love for him to herself for too long and it had eaten away at her slowly until now. Her feelings had reached a head and she needed to tell him tonight.

Neteyam stilled between Seyla’s legs. She was sprawled on her back for him as she had been all the previous times he had pleasured her like this, but that was where the similarities started and ended. Her legs trembled where his firm hands pressed into her pliant thighs, but they were not trembling with need. The air around him was devoid of her breathy moans and panting breaths. Instead, her torso was stiff and she was silent.

He kissed her clit gently, drawing it into his mouth again while curling his fingers within her, but his head shot upright and away from her when a hitching sob reached his ears.

Bolting upright and wiping his mouth on the back of his wrist, Neteyam shifted so he could peer at Seyla’s face. Her fist was wedged tightly against her mouth and she peered back at him through wide and anxious eyes that were pooled with tears.

Panic flared in Neteyam’s gut and his concern was instant, “Seyla? Have I hurt you?”

Seyla’s legs lowered themselves until they were flat again and she rolled onto her side to sit up. She was partially facing away from him now and he could see her dabbing at her cheeks. Her response was a wet gurgle, “I’m sorry. It’s not you, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Why are you apologising, yawntu?” Unable to help himself, Neteyam placed a cautious hand on her shoulder and applied pressure, urging her to turn back towards him. She did, but her eyes remained downcast. “Something’s bothering you, what is it?”

Her head bobbed in a slow nod and she took a shuddering breath, “I need to tell you something.”

“Alright, take your time.” Neteyam said in a gentle croon, fighting back the urge to press her further. Patience was something he learned early on with his siblings, especially with Kiri or Tuk when they were upset. Putting pressure on them for information before they were ready to speak only had the opposite effect of making them shrink further into themselves.

Worry and dread started to bubble like an amalgam of trepidation in his belly. Seyla was clearly upset and his mind was jumping to all sorts of the worst conclusions. Was the pace of their relationship moving too quickly?... Had he scared her with his enflamed desire for her over the past weeks?... Or worst of all, was she having second thoughts about being his betrothed?...

The points of Seyla’s ears rose and fell with her next deep breath and she began softly, “I hope that this doesn’t change what we have or make things awkward. And it’s fine if you aren’t where I am with things.”

“Go on.”

Seyla lifted her gaze to meet his and while it pained Neteyam to see her cry, the wetness of her tears shone beautifully in the moonlit reflection of her bright green eyes. Her hands lifted from where they had been clasped in her lap and she reached out with overturned palms. Neteyam took them intuitively in his, rubbing his thumbs pacifyingly over her smooth palms.

He could see she was struggling with her words and her tail had curled itself around her knelt thighs, the furry tuft quaking slightly. Keeping careful control of his own insecurity, he reassured her in a measured tone, “Don’t be frightened. Whatever you have to say, it’s just me. Even if it’s bad news.”

That earned him a watery laugh from Seyla and she shook her head, “No it’s not bad news.”

“OK, then speak freely.” Neteyam raised her hands to his lips, kissing her knuckles again. It was one of his favourite things to do to show his affection for her. Seyla had beautiful hands; healing hands that were gentle and soft, skilled and lifesaving. They were also hands that had set his body aflame with desire, hands that had brought him to the edge of paradise and beyond.

“Neteyam,” Seyla murmured, her voice almost barely a whisper. She squeezed his hands then, drawing strength from the feel of them around her own, “I love you.”

The moment the words left her, it was like a great weight had heaved itself free of her being. Seyla felt as if her lungs were suddenly able to expand better, the cool air filling and refreshing them with renewed vigour as if they had been impeded previously by the emotional burden she had carried.

Neteyam sat in speechless silence for several moments. Seyla could glean no hint of his thoughts or feelings, his expression the careful and neutral mask she had seen him don before in high pressure clan situations that called for composure amid heated chaos. His silence felt like an eternity to her and the black tendrils of her dreaded doubt began to unfurl in her heart.

But then his face split into an effulgent smile, stretching across his cheeks, all gleaming teeth and bright eyes.

Seyla could not help her own smile in reaction, her face illuminating in an overjoyed reflection of Neteyam’s. He pulled her towards him, one of his hands cupping one side of her face as he drank from her lips again in a deep kiss.

Cradling her face in his hands, Neteyam rested his forehead on hers, “Is that what you needed to tell me, sweet girl? Great Mother, I love you too. I love you so much.”

Seyla’s heart was bursting now with a different kind of pressure. It was light and warm, full of gladness and teeming with her love for him, which she now knew was returned with equal fervour. Sniffling and giggling in turn, she pawed at her eyes, “You never said anything and I was scared to tell you in case you didn’t feel the same.”

“That makes two of us. I was scared too. We’ve come a long way in the last while and I didn’t want to rush you or put any pressure on you by admitting how I felt too early.”

Seyla chortled at the thought that Kiri had been right about Neteyam (as she often was with most things). Rubbing her cheek affectionately against his, Seyla teased by his ear, “My mighty warrior was scared?”

Neteyam pressed a kiss to her neck, “Only when it comes to you. Only you have that power over me, to rattle my confidence and make me question my actions. I told you when we started this that we would go at your pace.”

Secure now in herself and in the profound connection they shared, Seyla knew what she wanted. “Then I want you tonight. I want to have all of you.”

“My life and my body are yours, as you wish.”

Neteyam groaned when Seyla climbed into his lap and her sweet mouth slanted over his. Their position elevated her head a little over his, giving her better control of their kiss as their faces twisted and moulded to each other’s from side to side. He was very aware that she was naked atop him and his cock was painfully hard within the confines of his loincloth.

Skimming his hands up her bare sides, he found her breasts and cupped them, delighting in the way her nipples stiffened immediately against his palms. Toying with the interested peaks, he felt Seyla whimper into their kiss, her hot breath sweet and moist against his mouth. He moved one of his hands to grip the softer flesh of her bottom, while his other hand snaked its way between their bodies to rub at her centre. She was so silky slick and she raised her hips to allow him to insert two fingers.

A gasp left her and she threw her head back, clutching at his shoulders as she undulated her hips, grinding herself against his hand. Neteyam’s other arm moved to her lower back to support her movements and he nuzzled the soft skin of one breast, purring, “That’s it, sweet girl. Do whatever feels good for you.”

To say that Neteyam felt like his control was slipping was an understatement. Watching Seyla like this and feeling the sensual clench and pulse of her core around his fingers inside her, as she writhed in his lap, was the best kind of torture a man could ask for. It was so easy for him to pretend that it was his cock she was riding. He knew that the fabric of his loincloth would be damp from the pre-cum he was leaking if he touched it.

Neteyam knew her peak was fast approaching by her breathy whimpers and the rhythmic fluttering of her core. Burying his face against her bosom, he attached his mouth to one nipple, sucking and flicking it with his tongue to further push her towards her oblivion.

However, Seyla gave a cry and abruptly stilled her movements, “Wait no, not yet.”

“What? Why?”

Seyla gingerly clambered off his lap, her hands reaching for the ties of his loincloth, “I want you inside me when I finish.”

Neteyam felt very divided in that moment. His body screamed its approval, but his mind hesitated with his concern. He gave a cautious chuckle, “This is your first time and it could be a little uncomfortable. It’s not a bad idea to finish first before we explore further.” He saw her wrinkle her nose in disagreement and she looked resolute.

Seyla loosened the ties of his loincloth and tugged at it insistently, prompting him to raise himself onto his knees so he could free it from his body completely. She stated clearly, “You said I could set the pace. This is what I want.”

Neteyam could never refuse her, he was powerless to. His cock throbbed with the relief of being freed from its cloth prison and he palmed it gently. Seyla was about to lie down on her back when he reached for her, “No, come here, numeyu. Stay in my lap like you were before. It’ll give you all the control.”

Following his guidance, Seyla settled over his lap again, greeting his cock with several tantalising strokes. Neteyam’s hips jerked, but she instantly understood what he meant when he said that this position gave her total control. His hips had jumped at the contact of her hands, but her weight prevented his pelvis from doing much more than squirm in place with no real upward motion.

She felt the aching throb at the apex of her thighs heighten at the sight of him, hard and wanting. She did not need any more foreplay. She felt hot all over, sensitised to every whisp of wind that whispered past her tingling skin; sensitised to every caress of Neteyam’s hands as they roamed her hips and back.

A flush had begun to tinge Neteyam’s cheeks a dark violet and his breaths blew out of his parted lips in shallow puffs. His golden orbs were desirous, but Seyla still perceived his gentleness in them and she smiled, “I’m ready.”

Neteyam swallowed tightly, resting his hands on the swell of her hips and guiding her as she raised them to position herself over him, “Take your time. Don’t worry about me, I’m already enjoying this far too much. Just focus on you.”

The blood was pounding in Seyla’s ears and they burned hotly too, but she was not afraid. Her heart was thumping in sensual anticipation. She reached down between them to take hold of his hard length, running the blunt head through her folds to find the right angle for entry. Neteyam whined at the contact and he buried his face into her neck.

The head of his cock nestled itself into place where Seyla could feel her entrance was and she slowly began to press downward. Her mouth popped open as the tip of him breached her with a slight burning sensation. She carried on, seating herself further and further down along the length of him. The girth of his cock filled her with an uncomfortable and burning stretch that made her wince, but there was also a satisfying fullness to it that urged her hips down all the way until her thighs were pressed flat against his once more.

Seyla’s discomfort thankfully did not last long and the stinging pain soon gave way to a gratifying pleasure at the notion that he was inside her. Sitting back a little, she beamed at Neteyam who grinned at her through half-lidded eyes and he squeezed her hips encouragingly.

Neteyam was going to explode from the sensation of Seyla’s tight walls around his cock. Her body was wet and so, so blissfully hot. She began to tentatively swivel and lift her hips and the friction made him hiss aloud in pleasure. He was vaguely aware that he was also cursing under his breath and he fought against the urge to press her hips down harder with his hands. Her pace was what they had agreed on and he would not violate that.

“You feel so amazing.” Neteyam breathed as she rocked against him with a gratified moan.

“So do you.” Seyla returned breathlessly.

Neteyam’s hands shifted to support her pert bottom, easing some of the pressure in her thigh muscles while she continued to lift and sink her hips, stroking her core up and down his erection. His head spun with blissfulness and his cock throbbed its enjoyment within her. However, he could soon feel that she was tiring and one of her hands was rubbing desperately against her clit as she chased her climax.

A whine of frustration escaped her as Seyla tried and failed to reach the peak she was yearning for. It all felt so good, but her thighs burned and she somehow needed more of him. Sitting herself against him and pausing to catch her breath, she felt Neteyam kiss her chin tenderly.

“Let me take over, yeah?” Neteyam carefully manoeuvred them both to lie her on her back, never breaking the contact between their bodies as he did so. Her thighs hugged his hips and she turned to press a kiss against one of his biceps where he was now leaning over her on his forearms.

Seyla loved being caged by him like this, their bodies pressed as close as they could be and his face hovering by hers, close enough to kiss, nuzzle and whisper in his ear. Her hands ran up his muscled chest and she pulled his face towards hers for a searing kiss.

Neteyam rolled his hips, thrusting into her with a full stroke and she broke away from his lips with an abrupt inhale. She gasped at the new sensation. She felt him even better like this, even fuller and more completely than before. He had stilled at her gasp and his expression was concerned as he stared down at her.

“I’m fine.” Seyla reassured, pressing her thighs against his hips and squirming in an unspoken urge for him to continue, “That feels great, keep going.”

Placing a gentle kiss against her lips, Neteyam nodded before tucking his face against hers to rub his cheek along hers, “Alright. Stop me if I’m hurting you, yawntu. You feel so amazing and I’m on the brink of losing my control.”

Neteyam rolled his hips against hers once more and then continued, setting a sustained rhythm that made Seyla’s head loll to the side as her pleasure consumed her. Every roll of his hips pressed his pubic bone against her clit while the length and girth of him pushed and pulled in and out of her core in the most delicious manner. Her entire body prickled and seared with ecstasy, her orgasm building quickly where they were joined between her thighs.

Moans and whimpers were leaving Seyla with each solid thrust of his hips against and the sound was the most titillating thing Neteyam had ever heard. The burning coil of his impending orgasm was winding low and tight at the base of his spine and his control wrestled with his pleasure. She was close to her own climax and he was determined to see her through to it without losing his control.

Cracking open her eyelids to catch a glimpse of her lover, Seyla relished the picture before her. She could not see Neteyam’s face as it was buried into the crook of her neck, but she could feel his expression was pinched, no doubt in pleasure, and his breaths were tearing from him in ragged moans against her skin. The muscles of his shoulders and torso contracted with each punishing thrust of his hips and she trailed her hands up his sides to press her palms against his hot skin, wanting to feel his muscles bunch and flex beneath her fingertips.

The telltale pulsing at her core signalled her impending climax and Seyla’s head lolled back, a hoarse cry leaving her as her body went rigid with ecstasy. Her fingernails clawed involuntarily across the skin of Neteyam’s back while her core contracted and throbbed around his cock in a powerful orgasm that made bright spots burst behind her clenched eyelids.

If Neteyam thought that he had enough control left to let himself savour his bliss a little longer, he was wrong. The violent clutch of Seyla’s centre around his cock as she orgasmed was vise-like and it forced his own climax from him with a guttural shout. He was helpless to stop the intense pleasure from consuming him as he ejaculated, his seed surging from him in harsh spurts into her welcoming heat.

Neteyam was panting against her like he had sprinted for a sustained distance. His chest heaved and his perspiration made his skin slick against her body. She nosed the side of his head where his beaded braids fell, tickling her cheek, and she inhaled his musky scent which was always the most potent after they had played.

He slipped off her to the side and she whimpered a little at the feel of his cock leaving her body. The sensation was closely followed by an oozing trickle of warmth that seeped down between her buttocks. An immense sense of gratification filled Seyla as she relished in the idea that Neteyam had reached the height of his pleasure inside her. She marvelled at how perfect she felt; how perfect it had all been bodily and emotionally.

Seyla whispered a small prayer of thanks to Eywa and her heart was so full.

Now that his breath was returning to him, Neteyam rolled onto his side to face her, “I love you, yawntu. Know that I always will. You’re the most precious thing in my life.”

“I love you too.” Mirroring him to roll onto her side as well, Seyla ran a hand across his forehead to wipe away several beads of his perspiration. She glanced downward at the thick braid of his kuru (neural queue) which was lying between them. Perhaps the afterglow of sex made her daring, but she reached out to trail a gentle hand down its tightly braided length.

Neteyam shuddered and his drowsy eyes slipped open at her touch. She watched him carefully. It was an incredibly intimate gesture, to touch the kuru of another. However, he appeared unbothered and a sloppy grin danced across his lips. Seyla’s own queue trailed at her side next to his, not touching but close enough that a mere shift of either of their arms would put their queues in contact.

Neteyam reached out to return the gesture, his hand stroking gently down her corded braid. It was a very pleasurable sensation and most definitely erotic in nature.

Seyla settled her hand over his, “I meant what I said earlier. About wanting all of you.” She traced her hand down his kuru again.

“What are you saying?” Neteyam murmured quietly. His eyes were bright and the corners of his mouth were twitching upward in what looked to be a hopeful smile.

“That I’m ready to be yours, fully, when you’re ready too.”

Seyla nudged her neural queue to lie alongside his, the thick braids coming into contact. The fleshy pink tendrils at the ends of their kurus unfurled, twisting and undulating in delicate coils. A few of the tendrils on each of their queues reached for the twisting wisps of the other’s, feeling and tickling each other but not fusing completely.

They both sighed in mutual pleasure at the intimate exchange, but they would not do this here tonight. It was not the way of things. Mating bonds needed to be forged before Eywa at the sacred grove.

Neteyam wrapped a strong arm around Seyla, pulling her body flush against his, “I’ve never been more certain of anything.”

Seyla snuggled against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart as slumber called to them both. She pressed a lingering kiss to his jaw, her heart singing with elation, “Well then, we better tell your grandmother that we have a wedding to plan.”

The last thought that flitted across Seyla’s mind before sleep claimed her was a humorous one and it brought a small smile to her lips: Tuk was going to have to hold up her end of the bargain after all.

***~~~***

Author’s Note: A massive THANK YOU again to all of you for reading and for your support. Leave me a line if you enjoyed this, I’d love to hear from you. It makes it so fulfilling to write when I hear your feedback. Reblogs are also massively appreciated! This is the last part of this work. I don’t have any plans to continue it. Maybe now I’ll be able to go back and add to my epilogue draft for ‘To Know You Again’ and hope my writers’ block for that gets lost! Much love to you all. xx

@glimmering-darling-dolly @liluvtojineteyam @han-sirentell @cinetrix @bluealiensimp @nmin @bellstwd @baahsaama @oasiswithmyg @creepytoes88 @strawberri-blonde @luvteyams @couragemydearheart @jaeyutabae @fandom-geek17 @anonymousailurophile

P.S. If you asked for a tag and you aren't in this list, then for some reason it hasn't worked and I wasn't able to tag you, sorry. 😟

#neteyam #neteyam sully #avatar movie #atwow neteyam #avatar james cameron #avatar twow #avatar neteyam #atwow #avatar #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam x oc #neteyam smut #avatar smut #neteyam fic #neteyam fanfiction #avatar fandom #james cameron avatar #avatar fanfiction

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honeyhotteoks · 5 months

Text

this night together - chapter eleven (j.yh + s.mg)

chapter eleven: a new love song

chapter summary: time, and a well worded letter, heals all wounds. finally, it's time to let go.

warnings: nothing really, social drinking, etc.

notes: reminder that if you're reading this on or around 12.3.23 when it's posted, i'm uploading three chapters at once! if you haven't read chapter ten, go do that before you skip ahead!!

pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader

genre: smut, a/b/o/omegaverse, angst, fluff, romance, polyamory

word count: 5.2k

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The party is bright, bursting with light and color and art. You can feel Hongjoong’s presence everywhere from the moment you step through the doors and you almost feel underdressed. You selected your outfit for him, something a little bolder than you’d normally do, but something that truly suits the occasion and the honored guest. You adjust the top of your black trousers and glance down to ensure the cream white blouse that is parted open is still firmly secured with the hidden tape you painstakingly applied. You hope your lipstick is staying put.

The listening party for New World’s new mini album is in full swing, but the night is about more than just that. Their tour has ended, everyone back on Korean soil, and it will be the first time anyone will hear the album from start to finish and the first time you’ll be face to face with them again.

Three months of nothing, no contact except the letter. The letter you’ve read about a hundred times.

You texted Wooyoung, San, and Seonghwa of course, and they mentioned Yunho and Mingi occasionally, but always in the broader context of what they were doing on tour. You saw them in pictures, travel shots on Instagram or Snapchat stories of their nights out, but otherwise nothing. For three months you let it marinate, and your feelings haven’t changed in the slightest. All you have to do now is find them in this crowd and clear the air.

It’s no surprise you’re as late as you are, your stomach was in knots getting ready and leaving your apartment had you practically coming apart at the seams. The idea of talking to them is simple, but you’ve rehearsed what you want to say over and over and you can’t imagine how they’ll respond. You take a glass of sparkling wine from one of the caterers and realize there are far more people here than you thought there would be. When you pictured a listening party you expected an intimate crowd, but the gallery space KQ rented is full of faces, some you know and some you don’t. You’re pretty sure you’ve missed the album playthrough at this point, you just hope no one’s noticed your absence.

“You look so good!” A voice from behind you makes you turn, and you smile when you see Dahan in her sparkly wrap dress.

“So do you,” You give her a quick, friendly hug.

“This is your first one, right?” She asks, looking past you to find a drink tray.

“Listening party?” You clarify, “Yeah,”

“This is definitely the nicest one so far,” She all but whispers to you, “New World is pulling in that tour money now,”

“Ah,” You nod.

“Usually it’s at a nice restaurant or something, not quite so many people,” She explains, snagging a drink, “not that I’m complaining, dressing up is fun,”

“Do you see Hongjoong at all?” You crane your neck and look through some of the bodies, but you can’t really see anyone else you know closely.

“Mm,” She joins you, “no, but Yujin and some of the others are over there,”

You follow her gaze, “Perfect,”

She starts weaving through and you follow, keeping close to her and protecting your drink as you side step around and behind people.

When you make it to the little circle of BB Trippin dancers, you slot right in alongside Dahan and give everyone a smile, “Hey,”

Everyone greets you warmly, but you wonder absently where your little pocket of close friends are hiding. Yujin draws your attention though when she says, “Jaemin’s here,”

“He is?” Your eyes widen. You barely ever see him, but it does make sense that he would attend an opportunity to bump elbows with people in the industry.

“Mhm,” She nods, “I saw him talking to Yunho earlier.”

Butterflies curl in your stomach, “Yunho’s here?”

“Mhm,” She takes a sip of her drink, “somewhere,”

“You look really nice,” Minseok interrupts, stepping a little closer so you can hear him better, “I like the whole, you know,” he gestures up and down to indicate he means your outfit and you nod.

“Thanks,” You nod, “you clean up nice too,”

“Oh yeah?” He shrugs, “Thanks,”

You start to turn back to Yujin who looks like she has something more to say, but Minseok keeps going, “Have you met Hongjoong?”

“Oh,” You start.

“He’s a nice guy,” He continues, “you’d like his vibe, or at least, I think you would,”

“Actually,”

“I’m not sure if you know this or not, but it’s his voice that’s on a lot of the initial guide tracks we get,”

You do know that, but you nod and take a long sip of your drink, ice slipping down and connecting with your lip as you tip it back a little further.

“He’s a bit eccentric,” Minseok continues.

“Who’s a bit eccentric?” Seonghwa cuts in, stepping into the circle and cutting smoothly between you and Minseok, another drink for you ready in his hands.

Minseok’s lips close.

“Hi, Hwa,” You smile, “that for me?”

“Of course,” He trades your nearly empty glass for the full one and leans in to press a fast kiss on your cheek, “you look beautiful,”

“Stop,” You resist the urge to actually nudge him in front of too many people and give off the wrong idea about how close the two of you are, but you give him the best withering look you can.

He ignores you though, “Who’s eccentric?”

“Oh,” You do your best to keep the smile off your lips, “Minseok was just telling me about Hongjoong,”

“Mm,” Seonghwa glances to the side at him, “is he?”

“Artistic might be the right word,” Minseok corrects himself.

“Well, that’s true,” You nod.

“Oh,” Minseok blinks, “so you know him?”

“Well, yes, I,” You start to say but Seonghwa cuts you off.

“Speak of the devil,” He nods and when you turn you catch sight of Hongjoong heading right for you both. He’s dressed in the most decadent dark blue velvet suit you’ve ever seen, and the combination of that and his freshly dyed blue hair makes him look like more of an idol, not a producer.

“My ears were burning,” Hongjoong says wryly, and then his eyes flick over you, “I love this,”

“I thought you might,” You grin, moving forwards to greet him with a hug, “congratulations, Hongjoong, this is all beautiful,”

“Thank you so much for coming,” He gives you a squeeze, “we keep missing each other for dinner,”

“I know, I’ve been so busy lately,” You tell him, “but let’s plan something soon,”

He nods and smiles and then turns his attention to the group, “Thank you all so much for coming,” he says.

Minseok looks a little put out next to Seonghwa, and you hope you didn’t embarrass him, but he and everyone else greets Hongjoong and they loop through the congratulations on the finished album. Once pleasantries are done, he focuses his attention back on you, “I have someone I want you to meet,” he says.

“Oh?”

“Mhm,” His hand settles on your back as he turns to the group, “can I steal these two for a bit?” He nods his head towards you and Seonghwa.

He doesn’t really wait for permission, he’s just being polite, and he steers you out of the circle and starts walking you back through the crowd closer to the stage area.

“When did you get in?” Hongjoong asks Seonghwa as you walk.

“This morning,” He says, “we were supposed to land last night but our flight was so delayed leaving LA,”

“Thank you for coming anyways,” Hongjoong smiles, “I’m sure you’re exhausted,”

“It’s fine,” He shrugs it off, “we’ll get back on timezone soon, I’m sure,”

“Flight was okay otherwise?” You ask, but Seonghwa catches your eye and gives you a knowing smile.

“Mhm,” He nods, “We’re all home safe and sound, I’m sure everyone else is here somewhere,”

“Good,” Your throat feels tight, the idea that around one of these corners you’ll find Yunho and Mingi, “that’s good,”

After three months without any contact, you’re going to have to physically restrain yourself from blurting out how you feel the second you see them. The last time they saw you was awkward at best, and considering the way you left things after the fight, the quickest way to confuse them would be to tell them you want them back with no apology, no preamble. But either way the words still form on your tongue in your imagination, and you’re mid internal monologue when Hongjoong stops walking and brings you back to reality.

“y/n,” He says, gesturing to the couple across from you, “Seonghwa, I’d like you to meet Choi Jongho and his fiance Kim Eunji,”

“Oh!” You can’t help the surprised sound that leaves you, “You’re the vocalist Hongjoong has told me so much about!”

Choi Jongho smiles politely, eyes flicking to Hongjoong, but then he nods, “That’s me,”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” You dip your head in quick acknowledgement.

“So, you’re y/n?” Eunji says before Jongho can finish out the polite greetings and confusion runs through you.

She’s looking at you with warmth and kindness, and it’s not often that omegas meeting each other for the first time are quite so positive and open. You’re used to a little hesitation, especially when alphas are around, everyone becoming a little territorial in mixed company, but Eunji seems unphased.

“I am,” You nod as your brain starts to catch up.

“Hongjoong mentioned you,” She explains at your confused expression, “I was hoping I’d get a chance to say hello,”

“He did?”

“Sorry, let me explain,” She smiles, “my little sister is debuting with your company soon,”

“Oh!” Your brows shoot up and you run through the girls you’ve worked with to realize the common surname, “you’re Jiwoo’s sister?”

“Yes!” She nods excitedly, “We’re very proud of her,”

“That’s so nice,” You smile, relaxed now that you understand her abrupt familiarity, “she’s a very good dancer,”

Eunji beams.

“She’ll be debuting as main dancer,” Seonghwa nods, “for good reason,”

Jongho smiles, his hand sweeping a warm line up and down his wife’s back, “Jiwoo says you and the others have been very kind during their preparations,”

“Well,” You nod, “they’re working very hard, and I’m sure debut must be scary enough, there’s no need to add extra pressure,”

“It is,” Jongho hums knowingly, and you recall Hongjoong mentioning he was from another idol group that had disbanded. You wonder idly in the back of your mind how difficult it really was for him judging by the brief expression on his face.

“Exactly,” Hongjoong offers, “I thought you’d all like to meet considering the mutual acquaintance,”

“Absolutely,” You say, “it’s been lovely,”

Eunji is about to say something more, but Seonghwa’s hand brushes your upper arm and he leans into your ear, “At the bar,”

“What?” You glance up at him and he nods past Jongho and Eunji. Your eyes follow his.

The air leaves your lungs, but you feel Seonghwa’s thumb brush a comforting line over your skin, “Go,”

“Hwa,”

“If you’ll excuse us,” Seonghwa interrupts you and gives a dazzling smile to your party, “her partners just arrived and it’s been a few months with the tour,”

You’ll have to have a word with him about his word choice later, you notice the way Hongjoong’s eyes widen, but Jongho and Eunji just nod with understanding. The bond between alphas and their omega isn’t something to be taken lightly, and they take a step back to clear your path.

You recover just enough to leave with normal pleasantries, “Thank you, sorry to run,”

“No, no, of course,” Jongho nods, “it was nice to meet you.”

“If I ever drop by the studio to see Jiwoo,” Eunji adds, “I’ll make sure to say hello,”

“That would be nice, I look forward to it,” Your body is all but screaming at you to move now.

“Well,” Seonghwa pushes you forwards, “I’m sure we’ll see each other later on in the evening,”

Hongjoong says something more but you don’t quite hear it, and suddenly you’re being propelled forwards. Seonghwa dips his head towards you ear, “Good luck, be braver than I would be,”

And then you’re alone, surrounded by bodies but alone nevertheless.

You’re not exactly prepared for how you’re going to feel when you see them again. It’s been months, and the first thought that strikes you is how much they’ve changed in such a short time. Mingi looks broader somehow, but his face looks a little thinner and more angular, like he’s lost weight from all the performances and training and travel. Yunho’s hair is a little longer, the back a shaggier against his neck, but intentionally so, and the cut of his jacket makes his shoulders look wider. You want to barrel into their chests and tug them as close to you as you can, but instead you take a steadying breath and just give yourself a second to drink them in.

You can’t stop yourself from smiling at the way they stand side by side as they wait for their drinks at the bar, and butterflies ripple through you, but despite everything you felt while they were gone there’s no fear. You just missed them, really and truly missed them.

You’re moving before you consciously think it through and you watch their eyes widen when they see you coming, but it only spurns you on faster until you’re all but crashing into their sides at the bar.

“Hey,” You’re just so happy to see them you can’t get the grin off your face, “you’re back,”

“We’re back,” Mingi nods, and you can see the hesitation in his face.

“I’m,” A million words run through your mind, but you settle on the truth, “so happy to see you,”

“You are?” Yunho’s brows go high.

“Yeah,” You step a little closer, letting the words you’ve been holding finally roll off your tongue, “this isn’t the place to talk, but yes, I’m happy to see you, I missed you both.”

Mingi exhales heavily and his lips quirk up.

Lowering your voice a little more, you hold Mingi’s gaze, “I got your letter,”

Yunho’s head twists to the side, confusion all over his face as he looks to Mingi for clarity.

“We should talk,” You want to reach out so badly, but you hold it back for now, “but I wanted you both to know I’m sorry too, and I’m really glad you’re home now,”

“Me too,” Mingi nods.

“Good,” You sigh, “that’s good,”

“Are we okay?” Mingi glances between both of you.

“Yes,” You nod, “I still think we should talk, we left things badly before, but I thought a lot about everything and I don’t want things to be uncomfortable anymore.”

In the background you hear the speakers cut off the ambient music, and someone taps on a microphone to check that it’s connected. You glance towards the stage and see someone preparing to introduce Hongjoong.

“Should we go somewhere?” Yunho asks, “Now?”

The man on stage clears his throat into the microphone.

You shake your head, “Not tonight, I want to be here for Hongjoong,”

“Of course,” He backtracks.

You reach for him this time, resting your hand on his forearm, “But maybe later this week when you’re settled we can just clear the air. I have some things I want to tell you,”

He swallows tightly, and you can feel that he’s a little nervous but he nods, “Sure,”

“I just,” You step back and look between them both, “I didn’t want you to stress about coming back to the studio,”

The relief is palpable between all three of you as Hongjoong takes the stage, and Mingi says, “For a second I was worried you weren’t going to be here,”

“No, I was just running so late,” You admit.

“You’ve been okay?” He asks.

“I am,” You nod, “you both are?”

“Good,” Mingi says.

“Tired,” Yunho shrugs, and you suppose you can see a little of that in his eyes.

“Seonghwa said your flights were delayed,”

“Something like ten hours,” He sighs.

“Are you sure you’re okay to come back tomorrow already?” You press them, “You’ll be jet lagged,”

“We’ll be fine,” Yunho smiles a little at your concern, “don’t worry,”

There’s a pause, a bubbling lull between you, but you can’t keep yourself from saying it, “I really am so glad to see you,”

“Me too,” Yunho says.

Mingi nods, but then his eyes flick up and he gestures behind you, “Someone’s looking for you,”

You check over your shoulder and see Wooyoung lingering nearby and when he catches your eyes he points to his glass and then to you, checking to see if you need another and giving you a smooth out if you need one. You shake your head and turn back to Yunho and Mingi, “I should go,”

“Okay,” Mingi says.

You think suddenly if you walk away without making a plan you’ll think of nothing else all night until you can’t sleep, “Saturday,” you blurt out, “are you free?”

“Yeah,” Yunho says and Mingi nods.

“Let’s get dinner,” You say it before you can panic and take it back, “you can tell me about tour and I can… I have things I want to tell you,”

“Just say when and where,” Mingi says, “we’re there.”

“Okay,” You sigh, “good, perfect,”

You can practically feel Wooyoung hovering at your back and you take a deep breath as you step away, but part of you wishes you could just take Yunho up on his offer to get out of here.

“y/n,” Yunho smiles a little, stopping you in your tracks, “you look happy,”

“I am happy,” You tell him honestly.

“That’s good,” He breathes.

“Saturday,” You nod, “I’ll catch you both up on Saturday,”

You see a flicker of something in Mingi’s expression, but then he smiles, “Wouldn’t miss it,”

You turn before you lose your nerve and run straight into Wooyoung carrying two full glasses of champagne.

“Everything okay?” He asks, pushing a glass into your hands, some of the bubbling liquid spilling over the sides and over your fingers.

“Good,” You assure him, tugging him away from the bar and towards the back wall where you can talk to him unobserved.

“I wasn’t sure if you needed rescuing,”

“I didn’t,” You tell him, “I was doing fine,”

“Shit,” He grimaces, “did I fuck up your moment?”

“No, no,” You shake your head, “we’re meeting on Saturday, I’m going to talk to them then,”

Something’s a little hurried in his face though, his eyes glancing past you again and again, and you can feel that he’s not exactly present.

“Woo,” You start but he locks his eyes with yours and cuts you off.

“I think I just met the love of my life,” He stammers, “I might fucking faint,”

“What?” You hush him, pressing him back into the wall behind you, “Are you serious?”

“I’m not going to faint for real,” He swats your hands away, “but I don’t know, y/n, I can’t breathe. My fucking chest is tight,”

“Holy shit,” You manage.

“I know,” He nods, “I know,”

“You’re not close to your heat are you?” You probe him, wondering if you need to make a break for San and Seonghwa.

“No,” He shakes his head, laying a cool hand on his flushed cheeks, “it’s nothing like that,”

You nod relieved, “Well, then what happened?”

“Okay,” He takes a long steadying breath, “you see that guy on stage? The one to the left of Hongjoong?”

“Choi Jongho?” Your voice spikes up and he shushes you frantically.

“No, oh my god,” He waves his hand to get your volume down, “he’s engaged, y/n, no, the other one,”

You look to the left of Jongho and take in the third man on stage. He’s the one who introduced Hongjoong, his voice low and velvety soft. He has long blonde hair that brushes his collar bones, the top half gathered into a messy but chic bun. You can tell from here he’s handsome, devastatingly so, with a cool expression and his lips parted just enough to make you wonder how he kisses.

“Oh,” You nod, “got it,”

“Exactly,” He runs a panicked hand through his own hair.

“He’s an alpha?” You surmise, “Did you catch his scent or,”

Wooyoung’s shaking his head frantically before he can finish his words, “He’s a beta,”

You can’t control the surprise in your expression, Wooyoung’s only ever really gone for alphas. It makes sense, most omegas do, considering the hindbrain of it all, but Wooyoung’s looking about as wrecked as you’ve ever seen someone.

On stage, Hongjoong gestures towards the two men on his left and you switch your focus from Wooyoung’s whining panic to the man addressing the crowd, “I have one more announcement to make tonight,” he says, “something that would not have been possible to announce without Choi Jongho. I don’t think I need to tell you what a talent he is and how lucky we are at KQ to have brought him on. We have a preview of something we’d like to share, once again, something I felt very creatively supported in by Kang Yeosang,”

“That’s him,” Wooyoung hisses next to your ear and you refocus, “Kang Yeosang,”

“Shh!” You hush him, but by the time you can hear Hongjoong again, he’s moved on to announcing that he’s going to preview Jongho’s new single, and you roll your eyes to refocus on Wooyoung, “So who’s this guy?”

“Creative director,” He explains quickly, “album art, concepts, the works.”

“Damn,” You manage.

“He’s so fucking smart, y/n, you have no idea,” He breathes.

“So you actually talked to him?”

“Talked to him?” He laughs, “I had his cock down my throat like thirty minutes ago,”

“Jesus Christ, Wooyoung, that’s too much information,” You smack his arm.

He rolls his eyes and continues, “We bumped into each other in the hall, like physically bumped into each other. I spilled my drink all down his nice white shirt,”

The shirt Yeosang is wearing is still crisp white, so you assume there’s more to this story before he even keeps going.

“I felt like an idiot,” He admits, “pulled him into the bathroom and told him I could fix it right up with a little club soda,”

“Okay,”

“He barely said anything at first,” Wooyoung continues, “I was just rinsing his shirt out while he stood there half naked looking like Michalangelo or something,”

“I don’t think Michaelangelo was very cut,” You smirk.

“The statute,” He swats you, “you know the one, don’t fuck with me,”

“Okay, fine, go on,”

“Anyway,” He sighs, “I was just talking, keeping the conversation going, fucking babbling while I washed out his shirt and then before I knew it he had me pressed up against the mirror with his tongue down my throat,”

“Wow,”

“One thing led to another,” He blushes again, “and then we just talked while I finished drying his button down,”

“Wow, again,” You breathe.

“I know,” He breathes, “I’ve never felt like this,”

“Okay,” You squeeze his hand, “but, Woo, this is a good thing,”

“I know, but I’m kind of fucking terrified,” He admits, “is this how you felt?”

“Pretty much,”

“It’s awful,” He admits.

“Tell me about it,”

The crowd around you starts clapping, the speeches are over, and the men on stage start to head down the side steps to rejoin the crowd as the single begins to play. Everyone in the room is listening attentively to the music except you and Wooyoung.

“What are you going to do?” You ask him, your voice low.

“Go home with him,” Wooyoung checks his watch and then presses his untouched glass of champagne into your hands, “I’ve got to go,”

“Whoa,” You shake your head, “are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I’m a big boy,” He rolls his eyes again.

“Text me his number, and his address,” You insist, “and check in with me tomorrow. If you don’t, I’m calling Seonghwa and San.”

“Oh my god, please don’t do that.” He grimaces, texting you Yeosang’s contact information anyways.

“Don’t make me,” You tell him.

“Fine,”

“Have fun, please be safe,” You’d take his hand, but yours are full of champagne. You hope the genuineness of your expression gets your point across to him.

“I will,” he promises, “and I’ll call you. We’ll talk all about Saturday too, I just,”

“I get it,” You nod, “honestly, I do,”

“Thank you,” His eyes soften, “and please, don’t tell San and Seonghwa. Not yet,”

“I won’t,” You assure him, “just go, be happy,”

“You too, okay?” He smiles, “Whatever it is, you do it. You deserve it after all this,”

Your stomach warms at that, and you know he’s right, you just want to do this the right way for once. Over Wooyoung’s shoulder you see the blonde man in question smoothly cutting his way through the crowd, and you nod towards him, “Get out of here, I’ll talk to you tomorrow,”

He’s gone without another word, just a rushed smile as he weaves his way towards Yeosang, a bright and beaming grin now on his face. He’s a goner, you can see it clear as day. A brief flickering question passes through your mind of how this might affect his dynamic with Seonghwa and San, but given the way your best friend is lit up from the inside it doesn’t even matter. If you deserve to be happy like that, so does he, however it happens.

With Wooyoung gone, you take a moment to survey the room, but you can’t find your group anymore. You see people from KQ you recognize, but your normal BB Trippin group is nowhere in sight and Yunho and Mingi are no longer towering over everyone at the end of the bar. You listen to the rest of the new single, something soulful and rooted in R&B just like Hongjoong had described to you all those months ago.

As you listen to the crooning love song, your mind loops through the encounter with Yunho and Mingi, of every microexpression and you get lost in your plans for Saturday yet again. How you’ll tell them you’re sorry, how you’re ready to move on and to be honest with one another. How much you still want them, that you might love them.

You don’t know how long you’re standing there by the back wall, thoughts tumbling over what-ifs when you’re brought back to reality.

“Tough night?” A voice makes you jump, a little more champagne dipping out of your glasses as you turn to the side.

“Hey, Minseok,” You laugh a little, “you scared me,”

“Sorry,” He smiles, begging off, “I just meant the two drinks, and you know, hiding in the corner,”

“Oh,” You shake your head, “no, Wooyoung ran off and stuck me with his glass. Do you want?” You offer it to him.

“Sure,” He nods, smoothly taking the glass from your hands.

You take a quick sip from yours and clear your throat softly, “So, enjoying the party?”

He nods, “It’s nice, but honestly I was just about to get out of here and call it a night,”

“Me too,” You nod. You’d try to say goodbye to Hongjoong, but he’s been tied up all evening mingling, and without any of your friends in sight it seems as good a time as any to slip out.

“Let me walk you out,” He offers, plucking the champagne from your fingertips and placing both glasses on one of the nearby side service tables.

You probably would have finished it, and a flicker of annoyance passes through you, but you let it pass and nod, “Sure,”

You’re not far from the door, and he organizes grabbing both of your checked jackets as he makes small talk, “Are you taking the train or,”

“I’ll probably order a car,” You usually do when it’s late like this and you’ve had a few drinks despite the extra cost.

“Me too,” He nods, passing your jacket over.

You shrug it on and search for something to say, but Minseok isn’t as forthcoming and chatty as some of the other dancers, “Do you live closeby?”

“More towards Itaewon,” He zips his jacket and gestures towards the exit doors that will lead you out onto the street.

“Mm,” You nod, pushing through the doors.

“You know, we could,” Minseok starts to say, but the minute you step aside you finally see some familiar faces.

“There you are!” You smile, and your familiar group of dancers turns at your voice.

Minseok says something else, but you don’t quite catch it and you spin to apologize quickly over your shoulder before rejoining your friends.

“I thought you left,” San ushers you over to their group.

“Good timing,” Seonghwa adds, “my car’s not far, you want a ride?”

“Sure,” You nod, you’ll never turn down a less expensive rideshare.

Yunho and Mingi are talking with Jaemin at the edge of the group, but you catch Mingi’s glancing eye and give him a smile. It’s impossible to just smooth over your last real conversation with them, but you’re trying to signal in every little way that you want to move past it, that his letter meant something. You’ll lay out the rest for them as soon as you get them alone.

He smiles back, quickly catching that you’re about to leave and you can see that he wants to step away from the conversation he’s having about some missteps from the tour.

“Have you seen Wooyoung?” San asks, bringing your attention back.

“For a second,” You nod, but look away from quickly as you try to tell a vague white lie, “I think he already split,”

He hums, but then Seonghwa gently taps your back, “Car,”

“Oh, perfect,” You step with him and turn to the group, “goodnight everyone, see you in the morning!”

Dahan and San both give quick, small waves.

“Goodnight,” Mingi says, his conversation stuttering to a pause so he can address you, “see you,”

“See you tomorrow,” Yunho adds, nodding.

Your stomach feels like it might flutter right out of your body.

“I’ll have him drop you first,” Seonghwa says as he helps you into the car, jogging to the opposite side to get in himself.

As the car pulls away you feel lighter than you have in months, and seeing them again makes everything feel so much more sure. They’re real, they’re back, and they want to see you too. Everything else falls to the side, for once the path forwards is crystal clear.

#this chapter was honestly fun and i hope you like the introduction of other ateez members!!!!#honeyhotteoks fics #ateez fics #this night together fic #yunho x reader #mingi x reader #yungi x reader #yunho fic #yunho ff #mingi fic #mingi ff #ateez fic #ateez series #ateez ff #ateez #yunho #mingi

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yelena-bellova · 7 months

Text

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen: Let’s Do This Right

Plot: Jamie and Y/n settle into their new relationship and Ted makes a shocking announcement.

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: f!reader, allusion to smut, light innuendo, language

A/N: We are finally over the angst hump and into happier times 🥰 Thanks y’all for sticking through the storm 😂 Hope you guys enjoy this one! We’re almost done 😭

—————

Waking up sober with the man you loved was an entirely different experience than doing it drunk.

Y/n traced the sharp edges of Jamie’s face as he slept, content to stare at him forever. He was snoring lightly, his face twitched every once in a while indicating he was probably dreaming. It was peace beyond what she could fathom.

It had been three days since the Man City match and the two of them had barely left the house. Jamie was cleared of any injury by day #2, but he swore on his life that he needed Y/n to stay in case he relapsed. She’d pointed out that an unbroken, un-sprained, un-fractured ankle had a slim chance of backsliding. Jamie’s rebuttal consisted of viciously attacking her with his lips on the couch. They made the mutual decision she’d stay in the name of recovery.

Jamie’s eyes drowsily opened, landing on Y/n. “Watching me sleep again?”

“Mm-hm,” her smile was lazy.

“Creep,” Jamie teased, rolling onto his back and rubbing at his eyes. He didn’t think there was a better thing to wake up to than her eyes on him.

“Part of the perk package,” Y/n shrugged.

Jamie turned back onto his side, tugging his girlfriend to him. “Thought you were scared of me,” he said, his voice was gravelly with sleep.

Y/n reached up and ran her fingers over his cheek. “Terrified,” she whispered playfully.

Ignoring the morning breath sensation, Jamie captured her lips in a slow kiss. They hadn’t done much else for 72 hours. For all the weeks he’d pined for her, Jamie was enjoying not having to hold back any longer.

Y/n hummed against the kiss, ever the more sensible of them. “We can’t be late,” she said in between kisses.

“We can be late,” Jamie rolled on top of her.

“No,” Y/n elongated the syllable, “We cannot. How many times has Ted called a full staff meeting?”

Jamie deepened his kisses, trying his best to derail her train of thought. “Loads of times.”

Y/n was unable to challenge the lie with Jamie’s mouth glued to hers. She pressed a hand to his chest and pushed, which only made Jamie hold her tighter.

“Jamie-“

“It’s gonna be some team motivational shit,” he argued, tracing her form through the borrowed t-shirt of his, “West Ham’s next weekend. We’ll be doin’ trust falls and watching movies about friendship. We can miss it.”

Just as he was going in for another kiss, Y/n slid her hand between their lips.

“Then we’d better get there before all the good partners are taken,” she countered, pecking Jamie’s nose before slipping out from under him.

Jamie groaned dramatically and fell face-first into the pillows. If everyone else had been second priority when Y/n and him were just friends, nothing and nobody fucking mattered now that they were together.

“Get up,” Y/n ordered as she padded across the floor to Jamie’s dresser. She’d convinced him to let her go home once to grab clothes.

“Fine,” Jamie moaned, flopping onto his back, “But the second it’s done, we’re comin’ right back here,” he drilled his finger into the bed. “We can’t chance my recovery.”

Y/n laughed, looking back at the mess of a man watching her every move. Hair falling in his face, sleepy eyed and pouting, he’d never looked more perfect.

“Deal.”

—————————

Word had spread quickly around Nelson Road that there was a new couple alert.

Jamie and Y/n entered the building hand in hand, giggling to themselves over something he’d said, and were welcomed to a flood of congratulations. From the physios to the security guards, everyone seemed to be taking joy in the two of them finally getting together.

Jamie held the door open as they entered the press room. Any and all conversations came to a halt, all their friends and teammates hooting and hollering at their appearance. Y/n rolled her eyes but grinned through the whole thing. Just before taking a seat with the boys, Jamie kissed her and the whole room exploded. Y/n shoved him away, sharing a sensational smile as they separated.

“So,” Rebecca said teasingly, “He allowed you two to leave the house.”

“She hasn’t answered one of my texts since we got back,” Keeley interjected, coming to stand on the other side of Y/n, “Been busy nursing him back to health, have you?”

Y/n could feel her cheeks heating up and kept her eyes focused ahead of her. Jamie was fielding several high fives and back slaps from the boys. “This is a workplace,” she tried to pull her lips straight.

“Of course. You want to focus on work,” Keeley nodded, “I’m sure it’s been very stressful, making sure Jamie’s comfortable, attending to all his needs.”

Rebecca snorted quite loudly.

“I hate you both,” Y/n tried her hardest not to giggle.

Before any more innuendos could be birthed, Y/n spotted a face on the far end of the room she’d only ever seen through screens.

Nathan Shelley.

“So Jamie wasn’t kidding,” she commented. The team’s text chain had spilled the news that Ted was rehiring their former coach. “Excuse me.”

Y/n walked the edge of the room, stopping in front of Nate, who looked a bit nervous. “Hi,” she stuck her hand out, “We haven’t met yet. I’m Y/n.”

“Oh,” Nate smiled, “Nathan. Ted told me you took over for Keeley.”

“Yeah,” she replied sweetly, “I’ve been handling PR, helping the boys out with interviews…dealing with unpleasant headlines created by other club’s coaches.”

Nate’s face dropped, he swallowed hard. “Oh.”

Y/n crinkled her nose, “Yeah.”

“I-I do want to apologize if I made your job a-any harder,” Nate stuttered, pulling his now sweaty palm from Y/n’s grip, “It’s uh, it’s a bit complicated but-“

“Look,” Y/n kindly stopped him, “Clearly a lot of things went down before I ever got here. If Ted trusts you, I trust Ted. Just,” her stare turned more somber, “Don’t fuck with us again.”

Nate shook his head quickly, “No. Never.”

“Good,” Y/n smiled and patted Nate’s shoulder, “Glad you’re here.”

Y/n turned on her heel and returned to her spot. Nate didn’t feel threatened so much as firmly reminded that if he ever lashed out at AFC Richmond again, there was one more person who would be displeased with him.

Just then, Ted stepped up to the front of the room, Beard in tow. “Alright, chatty Kathys and Kens. Let’s press pause on the small talk.”

The room’s attention redirected to the head coach.

“Now, first off, let me take a minute to congratulate y’all again on our win against Man City,” Ted started, everyone clapped and whistled on cue, “Took a heck of a lot of effort from you boys, and I’m proud of every one of ya.”

The boys seated around Jamie slapped him on the shoulder. He’d all but clinched the win for them.

“Second,” Ted hesitated, “Coach Beard and I’ve got a little announcement we wanted y’all to know about first.”

One minute, the room was all smiles and laughter it was just another average Tuesday.

The next, the floor had been ripped out from beneath each one of them.

Y/n’s eyes were glued to Ted, waiting for the punchline of whatever joke he was telling. He was creating the world’s longest fake out and in seconds, he’d grin reassuringly.

When Ted’s gaze crossed hers, giving a brief but resigned smile, Y/n realized it was real.

She looked up to Rebecca, who was caught between a frown and an even deeper one. She already knew.

Ted explained the details of it all, no one asked any questions. For once, every part of AFC Richmond was rendered speechless.

—————————

Y/n and Jamie drove home in silence. They’d made plans to return to work the next day. Jamie needed to get in all the practice he could, Y/n and Keeley had to handle Ted’s announcement. Life had to return to normal.

They went their separate ways once they got back to Jamie’s place. Jamie headed for the bathroom while Y/n dragged into the kitchen. They’d left happy with the promise of a long and lazy day spent at home. The change in plans was unspoken.

Y/n leaned against the counter, crossing her arms across her chest. Here she’d thought everything had just settled. Jamie, work, a chance at the Premier League title…

Jamie emerged a second later, padding over to the refrigerator. He reached in and grabbed a drink.

Y/n sighed, “I’ll start lunch in a bit.”

“Sure,” Jamie nodded, his gaze was focused on…nothing. He started to walk off to aimlessly wander the next part of the house.

“Jamie,” Y/n pushed off the counter, reaching for his hand before he could escape.

He turned around, still unable to meet her eyes. It wasn’t until she guided his chin up that the red veins around his pupils became visible.

In sync, Jamie and Y/n slid their arms around one another. Nothing needed to be said.

—————————

While England was having a tremendous reaction to the news that Ted Lasso was departing AFC Richmond at the end of the season, business at Nelson Road Stadium went on as usual.

Most of it was because people didn’t want to acknowledge that Ted was leaving. The boys didn’t really talk about it, Rebecca flat out refused to discuss it. Even Y/n was touchy about the subject, quickly changing the topic when a KJPR client mentioned how sad it was. No one wanted to deal with their feelings on the matter.

Y/n and Keeley carpooled from the office over to Nelson Road, discussing how well Ted’s recent press conference had gone. With Y/n no longer in hiding, their weekly meetings with Higgins and Rebecca had returned to their normal rhythm, relaxed and upbeat. This time, they were seated around Rebecca’s couch, going over a very interesting piece of news that had recently broke.

“The press are asking if you have any comments about Rupert’s divorce,” Keeley looked to Rebecca.

“Yes, of course,” Rebecca hummed as she scrolled her phone, “But no, no comment.”

“Classy,” Higgins nodded.

“Smart move,” Y/n agreed.

“Moving on,” Keeley said firmly, “Leslie, Y/n and I are asking if you have any comments on Rupert’s divorce.”

Rebecca sighed and eyed each one of her colleagues.

“Juicier the better,” Higgins gestured around them, “Safe space.”

“Also no comment,” Rebecca replied.

Keeley, Y/n and Higgins voiced their disappointment with boos and raspberries.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Rebecca smiled, “I just genuinely don’t care anymore.”

“Yes, but can you care for just two seconds,” Y/n begged from her spot on the couch, “I don’t even know what happened!”

“Well, perhaps if you hadn’t been using personal days on a certain someone,” Rebecca fired back, smirking, “You’d have gotten the story.”

Y/n gasped in mock offense, while Keeley laughed and poked at Y/n’s knee with her pen.

“I might need to be filled in on that one as well,” Higgins said to Y/n, “Again, safe space.”

“Next order of business,” Y/n ended the conversation.

Higgins took out his own notebook, turning serious. “We need to talk about who we’re hiring to replace Ted. I’ve made a list of the usual suspects,” he got up and handed the book to Rebecca, “And I threw in a basketball coach from New Zealand just to spice it up a bit.”

“Hey,” Y/n shrugged, “It worked once before.”

Rebecca glanced down at the list, her face a bevy of mixed emotions. “Right,” she set the papers down, “I can’t think about that yet.”

“Okay,” Higgins said, sensing her tone, “After the season then. Oh, last thing from me. On a happier note, now that we have a guaranteed spot in the Champions League next season…”

The four of them squealed together, waving their hands wildly.

“We have had many requests to buy a piece of the club,” Higgins continued, “Our value is at an all-time high, so it’s worth considering,” he gestured to Rebecca, “You give up 49%, retain full control and make a huge pile of cash. We can buy more players, renovate the stadium.”

“Ooh,” Keeley straightened up, “Maybe we can get some of those fancy seats. The ones with the heaters like they have at Tottenham.”

“Ooh, they’re amazing,” Higgins agreed, “In February. You see, I accidentally turned mine on last summer and nearly melted my bottom crack together.”

The women went silent.

“Think about it anyway,” he finished, “It’s only 49%.”

Rebecca was already running it through her head. “Leslie,” she called him back, “How much would I get if I sold the entire club?”

Y/n’s eyes bulged, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Rebecca,” Keeley scolded her boss, “You can’t sell the club.”

“Why not?” Rebecca shrugged, “I mean, I only got into this to ruin Rupert’s life. And he seems to be doing a pretty good job of that himself.”

Keeley and Y/n shared a worried glance.

“So come on, Leslie,” Rebecca lifted her tea cup, “How much?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” Higgins cautiously reentered the room, “Off the top of my head, I’d say two billion.”

Tea sprayed out of Rebecca’s mouth all over the table, hitting most of Y/n and Keeley’s papers. Not that any of them noticed.

“Fuck me,” Rebecca breathed.

Suddenly, Y/n had a whole new concern to add to her list. If Rebecca sold the club, the whole structure would change. Players could be traded, the entire staff could change, KJPR could be looked at as too much of a risk and dropped. The decision would leave no part of AFC Richmond untouched.

A text alert pulled Y/n out of her spiraling thoughts.

Roy Kent: It’s time.

“Sorry,” Y/n mumbled, “I’ve got to take care of something.”

“Are you coming back to the office?” Keeley asked.

“Yeah,” Y/n grabbed her purse, “Don’t leave without me.”

She hurried out of Rebecca’s office and down the stairs. Jamie had let her in on a surprise the boys had planned as a going away gift for Ted and Beard. They’d all been working tirelessly on it and after witnessing rehearsals, she had to see the final product.

Y/n got to the pitch just as Roy announced the end of their last practice with three coaches. She snuck through the gates to the fan-packed stands and took a seat behind Trent. Pulling out her phone, she hit record and aimed the camera toward the pitch.

A clang of a bell rang loud through the air, Will’s boombox positioned on the water table. The boys were lined up behind Sam and Isaac, crouched and waiting for their cue.

What happened next could only be experienced in person. The Greyhounds performed their rendition of ‘So Long, Farewell’ from The Sound of Music. They were perfectly on pitch, their choreography was flawless, and took visible pride in hitting their marks. By the time Dani finished his solo and the boys waved and sang ‘goodbye’ in harmony, Y/n found her eyes were watery.

“Thank you, fellas,” Ted said once it was over, “That was perfect.”

The team and the fans broke out into cheers. Y/n moved her phone to capture the pandemonium that apparently came whenever grown men completed a musical number. Had it not been for the witnesses, it would have been too insane to believe.

Afterwards, Y/n met Keeley inside, ready to head back to the office. She was carrying pink fuzz trimmed gift bags in each hand.

“You know I can say these are from both of us,” Keeley offered as they strolled down the hall.

“No,” Y/n repeated the same answer she’d already given, “It’s a sign of protest.”

“Fine,” Keeley relented as they passed Nate, “Hey, Nate.”

“Hey, Keeley, Y/n,” the assistant kitman greeted them, “You all right?”

“Yeah,” Keeley answered for both of them, “It’s so good to have you back.”

Nate nodded, “Thank you. It’s really good to be back.”

The women rounded the corner to the coach’s office, cutting past Trent and Roy’s desks.

“Hi,” Keeley greeted her ex.

“Hey,” Roy spun around in his seat.

Y/n chortled as she passed him, smirking knowingly. As much as Keeley had pressed her for details on her and Jamie, she’d also revealed a few key developments between her and Roy.

“Hello, boys,” Keeley approached Ted and Beard’s desks.

“Hey, Keeley, Y/n,” Ted smiled, eyes darting to the gift bags, “Uh-oh. What do we got here?”

“A little last-day present. One for you,” Keeley set one down on Ted’s desk before Beard’s, “And one for you. Don’t,” she jumped, “Open that before you get on the plane!”

Both men threw their hands up in surrender.

“Or better yet,” she softened her tone, “Just don’t get on the plane.”

“Thanks, guys,” Ted and Beard both said.

“Oh no,” Keeley placed her hands on Y/n’s shoulders, “These are very much my gifts.”

Y/n smiled sweetly, “I don’t give gifts to traitors.”

Ted laughed understandingly. Y/n was less than thrilled with their decision.

“I respect that,” Beard nodded.

Following Keeley into the locker room, Y/n and Beard shared a high five.

“Is everybody decent?” Keeley asked the boys, uncovering her eyes before Y/n did to a fully clothed room. “Aw, one of these days, right? Okay, remember, you’ve got your extra press session tomorrow at noon.”

“Which does not mean 12:15,” Y/n interjected, “There’s no such thing as fashionably late when you’re all wearing the same thing.”

“And you’re confident,” Keeley instructed while the two of them crossing the room, “Generous. Excited,” she threw her arms in the air, “You’re fucking legends!”

The room erupted into cheers. Not only were the boys hyped for the match and all that was attached to it, they genuinely loved having Keeley and Y/n around.

“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” Y/n smiled as they exited into the hallway.

“And to think,” Keeley elbowed her friend, “You almost missed it.”

Y/n rolled her eyes just before a pair of arms yanked her backwards and into the air. She yelped before recognizing the familiar grip.

“Should I assume you’re staying here for the day?” Keeley smiled, watching Jamie spin Y/n around.

“No,” Y/n grunted, “This will be very quick.”

“No, it won’t,” Jamie called to Keeley as she left the two of them to their moment. He set Y/n down but kept his arms round her waist.

“Well, that was professional,” Y/n teased, settling her hands to his chest.

Jamie shrugged, “It ain’t like nobody knows.”

“Yes, well, there’s still rules.” Y/n adjusted a stray hair that was slipping out his headband. “The dance went well, yeah?”

“Yeah, think we crushed it,” Jamie smiled proudly, “You got it on video?”

“Every second,” Y/n nodded, “It’ll go locked away in my vault of special Greyhound Only media.”

Jamie laughed, the lads and him had worked hard to nail the choreography. There needed to be proof, however secret.

“So Roy invited me out tonight for a beer,” he switched topics.

Y/n pulled back and grew mockingly serious, “That goes against the Jamie Tartt Diet Plan.”

“He said that since I’m with him, I get a pass.”

“Well, that would’ve been nice to know he was so lenient before he made me tape the pre-approved food list to my fridge,” Y/n remarked. Wherever Roy knew Jamie would be, he made sure training followed.

“So you’re okay if I go?” Jamie asked.

“Of course,” Y/n replied, a little puzzled, “You didn’t think you needed to ask my permission, did you?”

“No, just-“ Jamie’s fidgeting thumbs rubbed lines into Y/n’s waist. “It’s been kinda nice, just me and you. Just wanted to make sure you were cool with it.”

And it had been nice. Shutting the world out for the days after the Manchester match, coming home to one another after work, getting to explore the new territory of their relationship. It was heaven and it warmed Y/n’s heart that it clearly meant as much to Jamie as it did her.

Without any care for if they were alone or not, Y/n pulled Jamie in for a soft kiss. She smoothed her fingers against his cheek as they broke apart, Jamie kept his eyes shut and rubbed his lips together.

“Go have fun,” she smiled, “I’m always here, but Roy’s kindness is fleeting.”

Jamie chuckled and adjusted his gaze to his girlfriend. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Y/n beamed.

With a final peck, the two of them headed in opposite directions, Jamie back to the locker room and Y/n out to Keeley’s car. Even though it had only been a few days, Y/n was bewildered that there’d been a time where the three words they exchanged so freely were impossible to fathom.

—————————

With the sun setting on him, Ted nudged a ball along the training pitch. Nearly everyone had gone home, but he was taking his time saying goodbye to the place he’d called home the last three years.

“Y’know, I’m mad at you.”

Ted turned around to see Y/n, leaned against the wall. The small smile she wore contradicted her words.

“Oh no,” Ted smiled back, “What’d I do?”

“You give me this whole speech last week about how people here won’t leave me,” Y/n sighed, trying to keep her voice steady, “And then you go and do the very thing.”

Ted’s smile changed with sympathy. Y/n hadn’t pulled away like usual when she felt something big, she’d just been quieter. Still present, but withdrawn. It was nice to hear her admit the problem so quickly.

He walked across the pitch and sat down on the concrete, gesturing for her to join him.

“I’m also very jealous of Henry,” Y/n continued as she took a seat next to Ted, “To have a dad who’d move across the country to try and help their family, then move right back the second you say you miss him.”

The real reason for Ted’s departure had been spoken of privately. If anyone didn’t understand, they did after hearing it.

“Y’know he’s still talkin’ about gettin’ to play coach for a day,” Ted lightened the mood.

Y/n chuckled, that had been a good day. “He’s definitely got a future in sports.”

They let silence come naturally, waiting for the words to present themselves.

“You know, I haven’t thanked you for everything,” Y/n looked down at her lap, her hands fidgeting. “Everything you’ve done for me. If you hadn’t smacked me upside the head, I wouldn’t have come back here. I wouldn’t have the boys, Keeley, Rebecca…I certainly wouldn’t have figured things out with Jamie.”

“Oh, I disagree,” Ted clicked his tongue, “I think you and Jamie would have found y’all’s way to one another no matter what.”

“No, Ted,” Y/n turned to him, her eyes sober with seriousness, “I would have never had the guts to say what I said. I would have watched him fall for someone else and it would have been…” she shuddered at the thought, “Miserable.”

It was the truth. Y/n and Jamie may have taken the steps but if Ted hadn’t knocked on Y/n’s hotel door, nothing would have come to be.

“I owe you a lot, Ted,” Y/n continued, looking between their bodies, “Thank you.”

Ted’s eyes turned misty. He never quite knew what to do when people praised him. He never felt like he did enough to earn it. He also saw the potential in Y/n that had come from opening herself up.

“Well, you’re welcome,” he replied.

“Any plans for what you’ll do when you get back?” Y/n asked.

Ted exhaled, “I dunno. Didn’t know what I was doin’ here, coaching soccer. Maybe I’ll try something else new. Maybe lacrosse or rugby.”

“Or pickleball,” Y/n added.

“There you go,” Ted smiled, the two of them sharing a laugh, “Whole word of possibilities.”

The sky was turning dark fast, the golden glow illuminating the pitch gleaming for the last time.

“Y’know the best part about family’s that,” Ted nudged Y/n, “It don’t matter where in the world you are. It’s still a family.”

Y/n smiled sadly, tracing the last visible edge of the sun. It had been nearly a week since she’d left the shocking voicemail to her parents. Not a word from either.

“That helps a little.”

“And you gotta promise me you’ll keep the patriotism goin’,” Ted grinned, “Confuse the heck outta this country.”

Y/n laughed. Her, Ted and Beard could be their own trio at times. The three Americans.

“I will,” she looked up at Ted, “Promise me we’ll win this weekend?”

Maybe at the beginning of the season, each member of AFC Richmond had different motivations for wanting to win. Rebecca wanted revenge against Rupert, Y/n simply wanted to work at a successful club, the boys had wanted to prove their critics wrong, and Ted wasn’t much concerned at all with victory. Now they felt united. Everyone wanted to win for Richmond.

Ted and Y/n grinned. It was unspoken that the only guarantee was that Ted and the team would get it their all. That was all that was needed.

Finally, Y/n rose to leave. “You heading out? I can give you a ride.”

“I think I’m gonna stick around a little longer,” Ted answered, letting his eyes drift fondly around him.

Y/n nodded and saved the memory in her mind. A coach on his pitch one last time.

“Goodnight, Coach,” she said, turning to leave.

Ted watched her walk off towards the car lot. Her future at AFC Richmond was brighter than she even knew.

“‘Night, Y/n.”

—————————

With the season wrapping up, Y/n’s evenings were free from working overtime. And with her new outlook on life, doing nothing was actually enjoyable.

She was in the middle of catching up on a show when there was a knock at the door. She headed downstairs and peered out the peephole, pleasantly surprised at the sight of her boyfriend.

“Hi,” she greeted as she opened the door, “Roy cancel?”

“No, I’m just coming back,” Jamie answered.”

“Oh,” Y/n leaned against the doorframe, “You two have fun?”

The single drink he’d been allowed hadn’t lasted Jamie longer than two minutes. But the kinship with Roy was the real highlight. “Yeah,” he smiled, “Yeah, it was good.”

“Good,” Y/n grinned, glancing back at the stairs, “Well, you’ve missed nothing but tv of questionable quality and crap takeout so-“

“Actually,” Jamie hesitated, knocking his fists together, “I wanted to ask you somethin’.”

Y/n waited for him to continue.

“I think we should go out. On a date.”

“A date,” Y/n repeated.

“Yeah,” Jamie nodded, his nervous eyes scanning her face, “What do you think?”

Y/n laughed, “I mean, we’ve kind of done this whole thing backwards.”

“I know,” Jamie closed his eyes and rubbed at his face, “I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to ask or what but…I wanna do this right. Us.”

Jamie’d had many short-lived relationships and meaningless flings. He’d never tended to any of them, preferring to let them fizzle out when he got bored or he fucked up enough to make them leave. Keeley had been the last one to do so and it had left a lasting impression on Jamie. Now with Y/n, so precious to him, he was taking great pains to make sure this was the one that stuck.

“I’d love to,” Y/n smiled warmly.

Jamie’s grin was boyish, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “Name the time and place, I’ll be there.”

“Good.”

Y/n gestured behind her, “Are you coming up?”

“Eh,” Jamie paused, thinking the decision over, “Not tonight,” he met Y/n’s eyes, “Tryin’ to do this right.”

The whole of their relationship had been so unconventional. They’d practically lived together the first few days, said ‘I love you’ more than some couples did in a year and saw each other nearly every hour at work. A little structure wasn’t a bad idea to start out with.

“Fine with me,” she beamed, “Go get some rest.”

“I will,” Jamie replied, sparing one more look at his girlfriend before heading down the steps, “Night.”

“Goodnight,” Y/n said softly.

She’d just turned on her heel, beginning to shut the door when Jamie rushed back up the steps, reached for Y/n’s wrist and tugged her to him. They both smiled into a passionate kiss.

—————————

Jamie had been very strict in not giving Y/n any hints on what their first date would be. He’d texted her an address, told her not to Google it, and said to arrive at 7PM.

And so, right on the dot, Y/n showed up in a white floral dress and sneakers to a spot in Richmond. Stood outside a large pair of gates was Jamie, hair swept to the side, in a blue dress shirt and pants.

“I didn’t Google,” Y/n held her hands up, “Promise.”

“You look fucking incredible,” Jamie said, a little dumbstruck. He came to meet Y/n halfway and held her waist, “Shit.”

Y/n slid a hand over his shoulder and up his neck, “I’m not sure I want to be with someone who’s got such a foul mouth.”

Jamie matched her smirk, “Fuck off.”

They slid into a slow, easy kiss, one they knew if they didn’t break would become the main event of the night.

“You gonna finally tell me what we’re doing?” Y/n asked when they pulled away.

“Come on,” Jamie teased, taking her hand, “I know it’s killing you not knowing what’s going on.”

They entered through the gates. “Oh, you know,” Y/n said casually, “I only wanna break into hives a little bit.”

Jamie chortled, he loved pushing her out of her comfort zone. It wasn’t very hard.

They walked a short tree-lined path and passed a small lake before a massive glass building revealed itself. Surrounding it was pristine cut grass and gorgeous beds of flowers.

“Wow,” Y/n muttered.

“Welcome to Kew Gardens,” Jamie announced, his soft tone matching the mood.

Y/n shook her head distractedly, “I’ve never been here. Always meant to come but…I never really had a reason.”

Jamie smiled as he watched her take it all in. “Well,” he adjusted her hand in his, “Now you do.”

Turning them around, Jamie led Y/n towards the rose garden where there was a candlelit table set in the middle. Nearby were two waiters, waiting with a cart of food.

Jamie pulled out Y/n’s chair and helped her slide in, taking his own seat after.

Y/n glanced around them, suddenly aware of the silence. “Did you…close this place down for us?”

Jamie shrugged playfully, “One of the perks of bein’ famous.”

The waiters strode over, placing a plate in front of each of them. Where Y/n’s had some sort of pasta, Jamie’s was a plain chicken breast and wild rice.

“Well, the food’s certainly not a competition,” Y/n remarked, trying not to laugh.

“Home stretch,” Jamie replied. He didn’t suspect he’d change much about Roy’s regiment after the season ended, but he fucking missed food.

Y/n bobbed her head, “Then it’s, what, waking up at 10AM and gorging on sugary cereals?”

Jamie looked up from his plate, dropping his fork. He pointed to Y/n, “That’s the first thing we do on Monday.”

She laughed, covering her full mouth with her napkin.

“I’m serious,” Jamie continued.

Y/n shook her head at him in adoration.

Things grew quiet quickly, the two of them eating and their minds drifting suddenly to what Monday would bring.

“It’s gonna be weird,” Y/n observed as her eyes traced the nearest rose bed, “With Ted gone.”

Jamie lowered his gaze down to his plate. They had yet to talk about their feelings on Ted’s departure. The news had affected them in different ways. Jamie had finally found a coach who, despite many personality differences, he could count on. Ted had seen the best in him when there wasn’t much to see. He’d always be grateful for that.

And Y/n, though she’d tried with all her might, hadn’t been able to keep Ted out of her heart. He was the best of the home she’d tried to erase. He’d become her biggest guide through her time at Richmond.

“Yeah,” Jamie agreed.

Y/n’s eyes darted between her plate and Jamie. “A lot’s changing. Ted, the Champion’s League…”

Jamie smiled up at her.

“Couple other things…” Y/n matched his expression fleetingly, “You know, we haven’t actually…talked about anything…about us.”

Wiping his mouth with a napkin, Jamie settled back in his chair. “Guess not. But…” he shrugged his head, “Is there anything to talk about?”

There couldn’t have been a more perfect example of the contrast between them. Jamie thought with his heart, Y/n with her head.

“Manchester.”

Y/n’s answer came the second Jamie finished his sentence. As soon as they’d come out of their cocoon and back to real life, the topic had started eating at her. The night at Georgie and Simon’s hadn’t been spoken of.

Jamie’s face tensed, though he tried to hide it. He wanted to put that whole night behind them. They were fine now.

“Jamie, what I said to you was…” Y/n paused, tears beginning to build, “Awful. I didn’t mean them and I still said them-“

“But it’s fine,” he reached across the table and took her hand, “Look at us. I think we recovered.”

“Jamie.”

At her insisting eyes, Jamie’s facade faded. Their long friendship allowed them to read each other better than most new couples.

“Yeah, okay,” Jamie admitted softly, “It sucked.”

She was glad he’d said it, truly, even if it only made her guilt more real.

“But…” Jamie sighed, “It’s not like I don’t understand why you did it. I’ve kicked a lot of people outta me life because I didn’t wanna let ‘em…” he waved around his chest, “See all the shit.”

“I know,” Y/n whispered, squeezing his hand, “But I shouldn’t have said it. I was scared and overwhelmed and…”

She drew a deep breath, shutting her eyes and waiting for the oxygen to bring strength. Jamie held her hand the whole time.

“I’ve never loved anybody like I love you,” Y/n said, locking eyes with Jamie, “I kept it that way because I didn’t want to get hurt. And then you show up and just…” she smiled, “Mess up all my plans.”

Jamie chuckled, ducking his head briefly.

“And when I realized that, it terrified me because you already had me,” she continued, “You knew me. I just felt…exposed. So instead of dealing with my shit, I hurt you. And I don’t know how I’m ever going to forgive myself for it but,” she bristled at herself, sniffling, “I just need you to know how much I regret it.”

Jamie was, for once, struck utterly speechless. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so cared for. The delicacy and devotion Y/n treated him with was new to him, regardless of how long they’d been friends. He hadn’t doubted her, not since the moment she’d stormed into the med room and told her she loved him, but this was just further confirmation that it was the real thing.

“I think you’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

Y/n’s watery smile finally broke, a tear sliding down her cheek.

“I know we’re both fucked,” Jamie said, “It’s the truth. And I know I’m probably gonna mess this up a lot, but…I wanna try. Really try at this.”

Y/n only knew Jamie before she’d arrived through headlines and interviews. The man sitting in front of her, pouring his heart out, stroking her hand with his thumb didn’t resemble him in the slightest. She knew every syllable was intended with the most sincerity possible.

“You say ‘try’ like I’m ever gonna let you go,” Y/n chuckled.

“Fuck no,” Jamie’s face shifted seriously, “I just mean…I’m gonna try and be the best I can for you.”

“Me too,” Y/n agreed, smoothing her fingers over his knuckles, “I’m gonna fuck this up a lot too.”

Jamie chuckled, “You don’t fuck anything up.”

“I almost fucked this up,” she pointed between them.

“Fine, fine,” Jamie relented, playfully smirking, “Love confessions and turkeys. Those’re your fuck ups.”

Finally, Y/n laughed with might, naturally making Jamie do the same.

“We’re gonna be okay,” Jamie assured, gazing at her so confidently, Y/n’s fear couldn’t react at all.

“Yeah,” she smiled.

Jamie peered around them, brushing over the beauty of the gardens. “I know I got all this together but…I’ve got an idea.”

Y/n let him help her out of her seat and lead her off into the night. She wasn’t going to analyze anything to death about them. Jamie was her spontaneity.

He drove them through Richmond until they were on an all-too familiar road making an all-too familiar turn into an all-too familiar car lot.

After tipping Renee heavily to turn on the lights, Jamie and Y/n were in the stadium, Jamie kicking balls into the net. Y/n sat in the coach’s dugout.

“When’d you know?” She called.

Jamie lined up the ball, it was difficult to move properly in dress pants. “After Wembley. But looking back,” he paused, filing through the memories, “Probably ‘round that time we went out clubbing and that dick came up to you. Just felt wrong to see you with someone else.”

“Yeah, you were a bit weird that night,” Y/n recalled the jealousy, but not the poor soul’s name.

“Like you were any better about me and Keeley,” Jamie chuckled, making another goal.

“I wasn’t weird” Y/n insisted, her voice’s pitch shot up, “It was just…new information.”

Jamie was cheesing hard, reveling in the memory of her stumbling and stuttering and insisting it was fine. “Was that it for you?”

“It was certainly the first sign that something was wrong,” Y/n adjusted in what was typically Roy’s seat, “But I think Wembley was…I don’t know. My life was in the toilet, I thought I’d lost my job and all this,” she waved around her, “But being there with you, cheering you on…it felt like I was right where I was supposed to be. You made me forget about all that stuff.”

Jamie had stopped, giving Y/n his full attention.

“But looking back, it probably happened way before that,” Y/n shifted, suddenly nervous over the vulnerability.

“I think I know my moment,” Jamie declared.

“Hmm?”

“It was after that match where Isaac jumped that fan,” Jamie took a few steps closer, there was still feet of distance between them, “And you came over that night. We’d had this, uh,” he hesitated, “This talk in the locker room and I just realized how lucky I was to have you in my life. And then I realized…I wanted to be with you all the time.”

Y/n stayed quiet, awestruck.

“So if you think you ain’t ever letting me go,” Jamie turned around, nailed another goal and came right back, “I promise I’m gonna be worse.”

“I’m okay with that,” Y/n beamed, “God, I was so set on not dating a footballer and now look. You’ve made a WAG of me.”

“Stupid fucking word,” Jamie made a face, “Maybe I can be the WAG. The…HAB.”

Y/n laughed hard enough that she snorted.

“What? You’re a badass. I’d make fucking great arm candy,” he smiled, glancing back to the goal. “You coming? I didn’t bring you here so I could practice.”

“Right,” Y/n hopped off her seat and crossed the pitch, “You’d better step back because that kid’s league training ‘s gonna whip your ass with a vengeance.”

Jamie rolled the ball to her and Y/n caught it under her foot. She nudged it into position in front of the goal and took a breath. She was ready to kick when-

“Hang on,” Jamie interrupted, looking down at her with such intense focus, “Your posture’s all off. Let me-“

He proceeded to press his body flush against Y/n’s, getting a cackle out of her.

“This is not golf,” she remarked.

“You gotta correct mistakes like this straightaway,” Jamie held her hips, speaking over her shoulder, “Could affect you in the long term.”

“Oh, well,” Y/n twisted in Jamie’s hold to look at him, “My Premier League future rests in the balance.”

“Exactly,” Jamie lined his lips up with the shell of her ear, “You’re gonna wind it back, keep your foot steady, don’t flinch at the contact, and fuckin’ send it.”

Jamie shifted a few inches to avoid Y/n’s leg. She took a second to visualize the ball going in the net, swung her leg back and kicked the ball with all her strength.

It flew straight in.

They erupted in cheers loud enough to make anyone near think Richmond had won the whole fucking thing. Jamie crouched down in front of Y/n, giving her the opportunity to jump on his back. He ran them around the pitch, the two of them screaming and laughing like children.

In two days time, the pitch would be filled by two teams. The seats would be packed with fans. Richmond’s destiny would be decided.

But for the night, it belonged to Y/n and Jamie. The place they’d fallen in love without ever realizing it.

—————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex @angelsunflxwer @blueanfield @thewildestwonderland @sablecities @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @strawberryacethingz @mentalistfan @tortilla-maria1 @katdahlali @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @glitterquadricorn @jamieolivia27 @imvibin69 @katlizada @lil-tracys @fanaticalfantasist @heyitz-julia @cactajuice @peachyy-tea @notalxx @rockchickrebel @anxiety-prime-max @loveforaugust @jellycolors @actuallybarb @heletsmelovehim @lovinnscarletknight @imfalling-inlove @leslieiscrying @meg-ro @littlemisssunshine192 @beboldbebravethings @maydayfigment @spencerreidsbookclub @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @lemoonandlestars @im-a-weirdo-for-life @mindless-rock (tags cont. in comments ❤️)

#ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fic #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt imagine #keeley jones x reader #rebecca welton x reader #heartfirst

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rustedhearts · 1 year

Text

Tough Guy (Boxer!Steve x Librarian!fem reader)

summary: after a violent fight with a stranger on the streets of boston, steve reaps the consequences of his own actions. you worry about the future of your relationship.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

♡ the steve collection ♡

warnings: blood, boxing-related violence, also regular but pretty intense violence, angst, physical fight, steve goes to jail :)

boston, massachusetts april 1990

Within the first two months on the road, Steve's career skyrocketed.

He went from a locally famous fighter to a national name. The endorsements started putting together press conferences before and after fights, and every time you watched him from behind a curtain backstage, sitting at those tables with a mic in front of him, sunglasses shielding him from the blinding shutters of cameras, it filled you with a jolt of pride. His hard work was finally coming to fruition. All the training, the dieting, the bruises and headaches—it was starting to mean something.

You sat front row at every fight, flashing sweet smiles of encouragement, leaping to your feet to clap, leaning forward to shout validations. Before every fight—once Steve ducked into the ropes and stood to his full, hulking height—he'd look off at you and press his puffy, gloved knuckles once to his mouth, then twice to his heart. You'd blow a kiss back in response, nodding firmly in affirmation. You tried not to get too sappy before a fight; Steve had to concentrate, he couldn't have distractions.

But Steve was a hard man to distract before a fight. He was always deeply engrossed in his own head, staring off at concrete in the dressing rooms, bouncing his foot while his knuckles were wrapped. He rarely even paused to press a kiss to your mouth; he couldn't get out of his own head long enough to think about it.

You didn't mind, though. Steve always made up for it in the hotel room afterwards. Purpled and blued with bruises, mouth scented of blood, hands warm and clammy and still a little shaky—Steve would work himself slowly between your legs until they were jello, until he had you gasping and mewling and he could barely hold himself up with his sore arms. But he never stopped. Not until you struggled to breathe and were too tired to move.

It was his way of saying 'I love you,' when words escaped him.

"Man, once we get to Vegas—I'm hittin' the slots," Mikey boasted from the passenger seat of the SUV.

You wished you would've been able to rent a bus, or some sort of vehicle large enough for the four of you. The longer you drove, the more cramped it started to feel. Right now, your head was in Steve's lap, one hand buried in your hair and the other rubbing your thigh. You'd been fatigued for days, barely able to keep your eyes open on long drives between hotels, gyms, and arenas. It didn't help that you were on your period and cramping like hell.

"Don't go wasting all that dough, Santorini. The kid's gotta keep this winning streak up if we wanna stay rich," Big chuckled behind the wheel.

Above you, Steve rolled his eyes. You fiddled with the strings of his sweatshirt, pulling them gently just to watch them bounce back up.

"Nice to know you have faith in me," Steve grumbled.

Big glanced at the pair of you in the rearview. "I do have faith in you, son! I'm just keeping you on your toes. Ain't that right, Libby?"

You hummed, reaching up to scratch your nails against Steve's stubbled jaw. "Mm, I think Steve's gonna keep the streak up. He's a winner."

Steve tilted his chin down to look at you, softening at the sight of your eyes blinking up at him. He huffed through his nose, dragging his hand through your hair and along the side of your face, rough and firm. His thumb caught the underside of your jaw, tipping your head up to angle your mouth to his liking. He bent slowly, pausing when the tip of his nose met yours.

"Thank you, angel," he whispered across your waiting lips, just loud enough for you to hear.

You grinned, wrapping your hand around his wrist. "You're welcome."

♡ ♡

After five hours on the road, you finally arrived in Boston. The entire car began complaining of thirst and hunger an hour ago, so your stomach grumbled with overdue need the moment Big pulled in front of an Italian restaurant not too far from the hotel.

"C'mon, baby." Steve jostled you in his lap, ignoring your whining protests.

He hauled you into a seated position by the back of your neck, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek before popping the door open. You huffed and puffed as you slid toward the open air, stomping your feet onto the pavement of the road. Steve grinned at your petulant behavior, yanking you close by the wrist to wrap his hand around your jaw.

"So pouty, baby," he teased, squishing your cheeks together and watching your lips pucker with amusement.

You furrowed your brows at him, eyelids drooping. "M' tired."

He pressed a quick peck to your squished lips. "I know. We'll eat, then sleep. Good?"

You nodded, and with another swift kiss to your mouth, he released your face and collected your hand in his grasp. You allowed him to guide you, woozy with exhaustion. The sounds of Boston—horns honking, people shouting, distant sirens—seemed muffled by blood rushing to your head. You hadn't been in an upright position for hours.

The restaurant was dimly lit, which did nothing to help rouse you from your wading state of slumber. They seated you at a table in the back, the heels of the waitress clicking hurriedly across checkered tile as she guided you to the table. By the way she smiled at Steve and bent over his plate to pour water into his glass, it was clear she recognized him. The sight of her breasts sitting on his empty plate like a slice of chicken woke you up—at least enough to glare at her and scoot closer to Steve, sliding your hand through the back of his hair.

The men lit cigarettes and browsed through the menu, and you leaned your head on Steve's shoulder while flipping through the laminated pages lazily. Steve flipped his lighter open and closed, the hiss of the flame quickly suffocated when capped. Mikey was talking about Vegas again, rambling about all the naked women he'd see and all the money he'd spend.

"When d' we go to Vegas again?" you murmured, rubbing your cheek on Steve's arm.

He tapped his lighter on the tablecloth, pulling the cigarette from his mouth to blow the smoke away. "Uh, end of next month. Why, you wanna try your hand at poker, honey?"

Steve rubbed at your hair, a scrunch of his fingers against the crown of your head that made you scowl. You flicked his hand away, huffing.

"No, m' just tired of hearing Mikey talk about it already."

Steve looked at Mikey across the table through his lashes, flashing an amused smile as he choked back a chuckle. Your generally sweet and quiet demeanor usually crumbled when you reached a certain point of exhaustion, and it was clear you were toeing the line now.

Big let his laugh loose, patting Mikey on the back. "You and me both, girl."

You sighed, eyes fluttering closed again. Steve ripped his cigarette away from his mouth again to nudge you up.

"Baby, you gotta stay awake."

You groaned, rolling away to sit up straight in your chair, though your shoulders soon slumped and your chin tucked toward your chest. A 'tired,' tumbled from your mouth, and Steve gently tapped his hand on your thigh.

"I know, baby, just a little longer. Want me t' order for you?"

You barely remember nodding, but soon there was a plate of angel hair pasta with shredded Parmesan sitting in front of you, a coke with lemon at your right. You sipped at it with a sigh, leaning your elbow on the table. You'd never felt this tired before.

You were so busy focusing on twirling the prongs of your fork into the mound of steaming pasta that you hadn't noticed the group of men lingering near your table. You were too worried about keeping a steady grip around the utensil, too tired to truly grip.

"Can we help you fellas?" It was Big that called attention to it.

You lifted your head from where it rested on your fist, turning to see the men at the edge of your table. Steve instantly pulled your chair a little closer. Sleep began to dissipate from the corners of your eyes.

"Ah you...ah you Steve Harrington? The Steve Harrington?"

Their attention turned to Steve, a finger pointed too close to his face for his liking. He instantly leaned away from it, eyes narrowing into that cold, empty look he gets when he isn't around the three of you at this table. You were the only ones who got to see a gentler side of him—the rest of America only knew his brick-wall personality.

"Listen, we're tryin' t' eat here," Steve gruffed, motioning toward your plates full of food.

The man was young, between your age and Steve's, his face red and puffy and alcohol stiff on his breath. He looked like he stepped right out of MTV, and you glanced sideways at the rest of his friends lingering behind him, tapping their ashes onto the floor of the restaurant without care.

"Oh, yeah, yeah, totally," the man stuttered. "Just wanted to say m' a big fan, man."

Big inched his chair out, preparing to stand when Steve placed a hand out to stop him. He turned his attention back to the stranger in the backwards baseball cap, nodding curtly.

"Yeah, I appreciate it. Now you wanna fuck off?"

You stiffened in your seat, knowing the sharp tone of Steve's voice meant his patience was wearing thin. In response to his abrupt shift, the other men guffawed.

"Whoa, man, I was just showing my ah-ppreciation. No need to be an asshole."

You saw it—the way Steve's head twitched the smallest jerk back, how the muscle in his neck bulged with a squeeze of his teeth together. You felt it next—his fingers gripping your thigh like a vice, sure to leave marks in their wake. You squeaked, reaching out to place your hand over his.

"Hey, man," Steve mimicked, parroting the man's accent, "I'm askin' you nicely to leave. You don't want me to have to make you."

The man stumbled back into his friends, head shaking with disbelief. His eyes were glossed with a drunken haze, and an uneasy chill whipped through you when they glanced your way.

"Whatever, man. Just some fuckin' fake anyway."

His friends tugged him away, and their descent toward the exit was slow and full of mumbled insults that all made you stiff and nauseous. When they were gone, Mikey scowled.

"Can you believe the nerve of those fuckin’ kids?”

Big sighed, shaking pepper flakes over his half-eaten slice of pizza, eyes narrowed on the door. "They're just looking for attention. Hey, you okay, Libby?"

All eyes turned to you, pale and queasy, poking at your pasta with the prongs of your fork. Steve let up on your thigh, rubbing the aching handprint on your skin. You nodded weakly.

"M' sorry, honey," Steve sighed, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "You okay?"

You flashed a tight-lipped smile, nodding again. "I'm fine, Stevie. I just...didn't want there to be a fight."

Steve picked up his pizza, ripping off a bite from the pointed end. Grease slicked his lips, made them shiny and pink.

"M' not gonna fight those fuckers. Just...eat your food, baby, c'mon."

♡ ♡

Steve managed to get you to eat half the plate of pasta and a roll of dense bread. You stumbled into the parking lot attached to his side, bloated with food consumption and still woozy with fatigue. You relied completely on Steve's solid figure to prop you up—an arm wrapped securely around your waist, the other hand ready to pick you up at any moment. Big and Mikey walked ahead, smoking another cigarette and chatting about what to watch on pay per view at the hotel.

You were just about to get into the car when a whistle shrilled from down the sidewalk. All four of your heads turned, finding the dark shadow of the same man from earlier, friends abandoned elsewhere. He continued to stumble your way with a glazed look in his eye, drunkenly determined.

"Hey, Harrington! Wanna talk t' ya, man," he called out.

You wrapped your hand around Steve's sweatshirt, anchoring him to you. Your other hand found the door handle, taking a sharp breath in.

"Steve, let's just go," you muttered. For the second time tonight, your sleepy haze dissipated like a cloud of smoke.

The man whistled again, cupping his hands around his mouth to holler at Steve. Big and Mikey were at Steve's side in an instant, crowding in close.

"Harrington, kid, don't do it," Big warned, voice stern and fatherly.

But you could see it in Steve's eyes—his face illuminated by the streetlight's yellow beam—that steely determination, the fiery stubbornness, his hungry need to prove himself. Steve never turned down a fight. He never stopped looking for one. All he needed was a tipping point—one thing to send him over the edge.

"What, you scahed, Harrington? All that tough guy shit on tv just for show?"

It wasn't enough, but it was close. Steve popped the door handle, nudging you toward the backseat. You fought his pushing hands, your own flying out to grab the door handle and the lip of the car. You held on with all your might, lip wobbling.

"No, Steve. Steve, please, it's not worth it," you begged, voice unsteady with panic.

Steve slipped his sunglasses from the collar of his sweatshirt, tossing them behind you into the backseat. The man behind him whistled again, clapping his hands together to amp himself up. Mikey ran his hand down his face, head shaking on the sidewalk. Everyone knew what was coming next.

"You should listen to her, Harrington," Big started, gazing at Steve over his shoulder. "You're givin' this guy exactly what he wa—"

"—yeah, that's right, Harrington, go cry to ya bitch."

Your eyes widened, heart thumping hard in your throat. Steve just smiled, half-lipped and sly. Your heart dropped. You were frozen as he cupped his hand around your jaw and kissed your head, barely even registering him ripping himself away with you until all you caught was cold air.

You heard the familiar crack of bones colliding before you saw it. It was like coming back to consciousness, like how you snap from slumber by the trill of an alarm clock. That violent sound ripped you from your frightened daze, just in time to see a body collapsing to the floor.

Steve stood over him, chest rising and falling with heavy, huffed breaths. He looked just like he did in the ring, massive and immoveable—dangerous and unhinged. He gave the man a second to recover from the right hook to his jaw before Steve was on top of him, pounding down hit after hit.

"Steve! Steve, stop!"

You leapt from your position in the backseat doorway, but a pair of arms immediately clutched around your middle. The barrier massive and full of tense muscle—Big, hoisting you up off the ground in a bear hug.

You clawed at his back and flailed your arms, kicking your feet and losing a shoe in the process. The kitten heel went flying across the sidewalk.

"Steve! Stop it!" Your throat was growing raw already.

Your vision of Steve blurred with the onset of hot tears, stinging your eyes already aching with exhaustion. You soaked Big's broad back, protests growing weaker the longer you fought his ironclad grip. Mikey was pacing the sidewalk, warding off people trying to intervene, doing all he could to avoid someone calling the cops.

But the 'woop-woop' of sirens was inevitable. Blue and red lights blanketed the street in flashing color. Your vision became a blurry kaleidoscope of figures and shapes, but nothing solid. Your hands were shaking, clasped around Big's t-shirt.

"Honey, I need you to breathe. Hey, can you take a deep breath for me?"

And then you were sitting on the curb in Big's lap, held like a child after a nightmare, struggling to breathe in time to the police officer's guiding gasps. Hiccuping breaths escaped you like stutters, and a slow turn of your head over Big's shoulder allowed you to see what they'd all been shielding you from for the past ten minutes:

A pool of blood on the sidewalk, a stretcher with an unconscious man wearing a neck brace. Even from this distance, there was no mistaking that the chunks sitting in the blood were teeth. There was so much blood.

"Wh-where's St-Steve?" you gasped, turning back to the officer.

He stood up again, previously crouched to accommodate your seated position. He rolled his lips together, hands finding his hips. He glanced behind you at Big, who nodded softly.

"Well, uh...your boyfriend beat a man half to death, honey, so...he's goin' to jail tonight."

All you could hear was the thump of your heart in your ears. You could feel it, too, pumping with such force that your throat ached. You thought your temples might burst open at any moment. Your stomach churned with sickness. It lined your cheeks with a sourness that gathered saliva under your tongue.

You swallowed once, hard. "Okay."

The officer lingered a moment, and with another nod Big's way, stepped back toward his squad car. The other one, the one your boyfriend was handcuffed in the back of, was already on its way to the station.

Big rubbed at your shoulders. "What do you wanna do, kid?"

Your hands were still shaking when they wiped at your cheeks, freeing them of sticky mascara tears. A sigh rattled in your throat with snot and more unsheathed tears.

"Sleep," you replied.

Big gazed off over his shoulder at Mikey, who was already on the phone with endorsements explaining what happened before they caught whiff of it through the paparazzi. They'd be here in no time with all the commotion on the street. Mikey looked at Big, shrugging his shoulders. Harrington did what Harrington did. Now he had to reap the consequences.

"Alright," Big sighed, patting your shoulders, "let's get you to sleep then."

♡ ♡

In the end, you didn't get much sleep.

You could barely remember what it was like to sleep without Steve pressed against your back. The bed felt empty and cold that night. You tossed and turned for hours, weeping into the pillow, and always moments away from calling your father to take you home. All you wanted was the safety of home, the security of Steve—you didn't have any of that right now. In fact, you'd never felt more terrified.

In the morning, you were like a zombie. Big and Mikey came knocking, carrying a cup of coffee (flavored with vanilla since they knew you liked sweet things) and a breakfast sandwich. You took one bite of the sandwich and could barely stomach half the cup of coffee. You looked paler than usual, and when they asked if you wanted to shower and clean yourself up, all you could do was shake your head.

Big managed to wipe your face clean and hand you a sweatshirt—Steve's, roomy and scented of Marlboros and pine cologne.

In the car, the backseat felt just as wide and empty as your bed.

"We already posted bail, but they want to set a court date. We gotta get ahold of that guy, see what kind of offer he's willing to take," Mikey rambled, elbow leaning against the door.

Big glanced at you periodically in the rearview. You hadn't said one word all morning, but he could tell just what you were thinking. How could he do this?

When you arrived at the police station, all you could feel was numbness. Your boyfriend was locked up behind bars in this sterile looking building, but you couldn't feel anything. Perhaps it was the exhaustion still puppeteering your body, weighing you down from truly feeling how you wanted to feel. Either way, all you could do was blink blankly at the barbed wire in the window, and wait for one of them to ask.

"Coming in, or staying here?" Big asked, and you turned away from the window.

You pondered it for a minute. Did you want to see Steve in there? Did you want to see him holding his belongings in a plastic bag, fingers smudged with ink from fingerprinting? Did you want to see him slumped on a bench in a cinderblock cell?

"It's fine," Mikey interrupted, "I'll stay here with her."

Big cocked his head gently. "That okay with you?"

You glanced up from your lap, nodding silent agreement. Big popped the door open and tossed Mikey the keys.

"Alright, I'll be right back then."

The car jostled with the slam of his door, and you instantly placed your head in your hands. Mikey rubbed at his mustache, shifting in his seat.

"Listen...it'll be alright. There's gotta be a number this guy's willing to take, and you won't have to worry 'bout Harrington going to jail, alright?"

A payoff. It was the only answer they could even fathom. There was no part of you that wanted Steve to go to jail, but that doesn't mean it wasn't what he deserved. It felt sick to cheat the system with money. You felt sick about it.

"It'll all work out," Mikey assured you. "Hey, here they come."

You lifted your head, wiping your cheeks and nose free of any sign of tears. You kept your gaze steady on your window, away from the windshield and Steve's figure trudging toward the car. The car jostled again with his arrival, sliding into the backseat. He smelled different, like stale cigarettes and sweat, a muted whiff of cleaning product. He didn't smell like him.

The car took off in silence, though you could feel Steve's stare burning a hole into your head. You caught his reflection in the window when you passed under a tunnel, and you pinched your eyes shut until it was gone.

"Baby," he whispered.

You captured your lip between your teeth and took a steadying breath. Steve sighed, reaching out for your hand, tucked into your arms crossed over your chest.

"Baby, plea—"

You yanked your hand away, knees turning toward your door. Steve's head thumped back against the seat, hands returning to his lap.

♡ ♡

At the hotel, you stood in the corner furthest from Steve in the elevator. Big stood between the pair of you like a statue. When you reached your floor and the doors dinged open, you stomped ahead of everyone silently. Steve followed, steps slow and small. When he approached the room, door open and still half full of your figure, you turned and slammed the door in his face.

Steve sighed, bringing an inked hand to the knob to turn on it. You locked it.

"Libby," Steve sighed, knocking gently. "Please let me in. I just...please talk to me."

You stared at the other side of the door, heart racing at the sound of his voice. His bags were in the corner near the chaise lounge, still fully packed and untouched. Steve knocked again.

"Baby, please."

You hurriedly turned the lock and scurried further into the room. You were on the other side of the bed by the time Steve opened the door and tiptoed in. He walked with an air of caution not usually present. His head hung toward his feet, shoulders tense. His hands found his pockets, concealing the swollen and purpled bruises painted across his knuckles. But you'd already seen—it was hard to miss: the blood crusted in the open wounds, the crimson stain on his jeans.

Steve walked closer, and when he came around the bed to reach for you, you jerked away.

"Don't fucking touch me, Steven."

Steve recoiled, lips pulled into a frown. You stomped toward the mini bar, grasping the edge of the glass counter. Somewhere in the room, a clock ticked with each passing second. Your heart was racing again.

"What were you thinking?" Your voice was so soft, but edged with disbelief and such horrifying heartbreak.

Steve felt like the world's biggest piece of shit.

"I don't know," he mumbled, running a hand down his face, drooping with exhaustion. "I just...I lost it."

You yanked open the mini fridge, bottles rattling and clinking together as you rummaged through them. You snatched a Ciroc, twisting the cap off and flicking it toward the wall. It pinged off, bouncing across the room. Steve stared at it while you tossed back a gulp, wincing at the sting.

"You could've killed him," you croaked.

Steve sank down onto the bed. "What, I was supposed to let that guy clown me? I'm supposed to ignore it?"

You whirled around, feverishly sucking more of the stinging liquid down as you paced toward Steve. He kept his eyes on his feet while you towered over him.

"Do you hear yourself? 'Me, me, me.' You don't think of anyone but yourself."

Steve's shoulders slumped, head tipping back to flash you a pleading look. "Baby, I was—"

You pointed a finger at him, rage suddenly replacing that numb emptiness from earlier.

"—and don't you dare fuckin' say you were doing it for me, because we don't lie to each other like that."

Steve's mouth snapped closed, jaw wired shut tightly. His nostrils flared, and then he was leaping to his feet with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes.

"I was doing it for you, Libby. You love to make me the villain, don't you?"

You scoffed, hands dropping to your sides, smacking against your thighs. "Well if the shoe fuckin' fits."

A moment passed. The words flew from your mouth like they'd been ripped; yanked like a tooth. Puffs of air made your chest ride and fall in quick successions. Steve's cheek ticked. He tore his hands from his pockets, bearing his bloody knuckles, and swept them over the top of his greasy hair.

Without a word, he stomped past you, snatching the plastic bag of his belongings from the dresser. You stood, stock-still, in the middle of the room as he fumbled for his cigarettes and lighter. He passed by again in a whoosh of air, yanking at the sliding glass door of the balcony until it gave way to cool morning air.

When it slammed closed, Steve sank down into one of the wicker chairs outside and lit the cigarette. Suddenly, you were left feeling like the bad guy.

Numbly, you moved toward the bathroom. The light buzzed for a fraction of a second when you flipped it on. Turning to close the door, you caught sight of Steve putting the heel of his palms to his forehead, hunched over his lap. You kept the door ajar by an inch—an invitation. Come in, let's forgive each other.

The water came out in a heavy stream, filling the tiled room with warmth. You stripped slowly, limbs throbbing with a tired ache. A small package of lavender bath bubbles sat on the edge of the tub, and you poured it in as you sank your feet into the water. It was a wide, oval-shaped tub—plenty of room, meant for two people.

Once submerged, you leaned your head back against the lip of the tub and closed your eyes. The water level rose higher with each passing second, coating your body in floral warmth. The faucet squeaked when you turned the handle off and cut the stream short.

A horn blared on the streets below, filtering through the balcony doors. Something thumped in the hall. Voices chattered on the other side of the blue tiles. The bathroom had blue carpet, the color of sapphires.

Steve smelled like himself again when he came in, hands scented of Marlboros. He kicked the door closed and leaned against it. You hadn't opened your eyes, but he knew you heard him. Your toe twitched in the bubbles.

He reached up and pinched the back of his sweatshirt, pulling it forward over his head. He toed his sneakers off, abandoning them near the door. His belt clinked, zipper snicking, denim whooshing as it fell down his legs. The water sloshed with his entrance—right foot, left foot, bending down until he was seated between your legs.

His hands slipped along the lip of the tub with a wet squeal, and by the time he was touching his forehead to yours, your eyes were open. Your legs mirrored his, pulled to your chest, making room for each other. White bubbles lathered on his arms, dripped from his elbows.

His hand was hot and dry when it cupped your cheek. "I'm sorry, baby."

You tipped your head, nose nudging his. "I know. Me too."

The water rippled when he brought both hands to your arms, skating along the length of them. You let your head fall where it wanted to, sliding away from his forehead to his shoulder. You rested there, letting his hands work over your body with tender care. His fingerprint ink disappeared in the water.

Steve pressed kisses to your skin, full-lipped and delicate. You shivered when he mouthed at your neck, the sensitive spot below your ear.

His apology wasn't enough to fix what he did. Mikey could pay off the man Steve nearly beat to death, but it wouldn't change what he did. He could never take this back. And you could never erase the memory of it from your mind.

You knew all this. But you loved him just the same.

♡ ♡

#rolly!#boxer!steve harrington #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x female reader smut #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve the hair harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington blurb

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hwaslayer · 8 months

Text

project: make you love me (jyh) | three.

♣︎ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: yunho can’t stand how you’re so wrapped up in the notorious campus fuckboy, park seonghwa. he would gladly love you the way you deserve, despite being shy, awkward and the complete opposite of seonghwa. thus, when he finds himself spending more time with you over literature reviews and random study sessions, he decides to take on the challenge to win you over.

—pairing: jeong yunho x f. reader x park seonghwa

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers/friends to lovers, college au | fluff, angst, (eventual) smut

—word count: 4.8k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing/mature language, we all know seonghwa is a dick but he pulls something that makes him even more of a dick (if that's even possible?), yunho 🥺, we finally say hello to yeosang!!

"Thank god lab was cancelled today. Can finally eat a meal in peace." Soobin sighs. "Here." He shoves his fries over to Chaery. "Too full now."

"Yay!" She claps as she takes the plate and begins to chow down on the rest of Soobin's curly fries. "They're so good. I can't believe they're already out of this when the cafeteria barely opened 30 mins ago."

"There's visitors on campus getting lunch so—" Seungmin shrugs. "Visitors getting free food and leaching off of us poor college students."

"At least the frozen yogurt machine is working!" Chaery adds.

"For now. They'll probably eat that shit up and end up breaking the machine, too. You know, visitors doing what visitors do best."

"Stop. Be nice." You scold him. "They're literally just high school seniors."

"Yeah.. so, visitors?" Seungmin furrows his brows. "I said what I said." You snort just as you finish up your frozen yogurt cup and place it down onto your tray.

"I heard that new mochi donut place opened in downtown." Soobin nonchalantly adds as he scrolls through his phone. "We should go before practice."

"We should." Chaery squeals. "I wholeheartedly agree with you for once!" Soobin furrows his brows at her before [playfully] threatening to take back his fries.

"Are you driving? I'm kinda low on gas." Seungmin asks.

"Yeah, why not?" Soobin shrugs, being the first to stand and drop off his tray. "Meet us at the library after class, Chaery?" The rest of your group follows and agrees in unison.

"Mm, sure. Guess I'll just wait around there, then. I do need to get some homework done so I can study all night." Chaery adds before looking at you. "Hey, you're seeing Yunho in class today right?"

"Sure am."

"Gonna sit next to him?" You chuckle.

"Chaery, sorry to break it to you, but that one time was a coincidence. He just didn't have anywhere else to sit."

"Whatever you say. I'm sure you'll find him in the same seat today."

"What are you, cupid?"

"Whatever you want me to be. As long as I can get you the fuck away from Park Seonghwa." She pretends to gag, making you laugh.

"You're too much."

"Call it what you want, I just care about you." She swings her arm around you as your group walks over to the library. It's quite busy at this time— lots of foot traffic, with people in and out of classes or hanging out. You, Soobin and Seungmin bid farewell to Chaery as she heads into the quiet section of the library to get work done, while the three of you head upstairs to your classrooms. There's still about 5 minutes to spare, more than enough time for you to head to your seat and settle in before class. So, you do just that— head to your seat and settle in.

Except to your surprise, Jeong Yunho is sitting in that same seat next to you.

You pause in your steps for a second before continuing to walk over, observing as he types away at his laptop. You're sure he can feel you coming, but he doesn't do much to acknowledge you until you take a seat. He glances over at you with a small smile, muttering a soft:

"Hi."

"Hey Yunho."

"How was the rest of your walk?"

"My walk?" You raise a brow before it clicks in your head. "Oh, right! With Chaery. Yeah, it was good. How was yours?" You chuckle as you take out your notebook. "Were you able to get some sleep that night?" You remembered. Such a minor detail for Yunho, but you remembered.

"Uh, yeah. Enough to suffice."

"Good." You chuckle. "By the way, thanks again for sending me that stuff. It's super helpful."

"Glad it is." Your eyes glance up to Dr. Nelson walking in and setting his things down on the front desk. Your smile fades when Dr. Nelson begins class and starts talking all this nonsense about a major paper assignment.

"Might have to bother you again for more help with this later." Yunho chuckles a bit and shakes his head.

"You're not a bother. I don't mind." He says close to a whisper. You give him one last smile before diverting your attention back to Dr. Nelson, jotting down some notes about his topic of the day.

Class goes by as it typically does, with you being able to work with Yunho on another in-class assignment. He asks about the rest of your afternoon, and you tell him about your plans with friends, dance practice and your evening class. He simply nods before explaining that he'll be working on some other projects for the remainder of the day. It falls silent a majority of the time you're working with him, however you don't mind keeping up the conversation. He's easy to talk to, and quite frankly, you don't find Yunho the least bit intimidating or awkward.

At least, you couldn't pick up on it during your interactions with him.

You're just hoping he's fond of your company, too. Hopefully, you don't annoy him— especially when you ask for help.

"Don't work too hard, okay?" You say as you pack up your things and start to head out of the classroom. Yunho follows shortly after, slinging his backpack strap over his shoulder.

"Mm, I'll try. I do have lots of things to cross off, though."

"Would you like me to get you a mochi donut to give you some energy?" He laughs.

"That's very nice of you, but no thanks. I'll be good."

"Okay. Suit yourself." You tease before waving at him one last time. "See ya around?"

"Yeah." Is all he responds with. He watches as you meet your friends and head downstairs, with Chaery waiting for your group at the bottom of the steps. He smiles a bit when he sees you hug her like you haven't seen her in years, becoming fond of how good you look being happy.

You should be happy.

He doesn't know much about you yet, but he does appreciate your energy and how kind you are around him.

Meanwhile, you're enjoying the walk down to the lot with your friends. You're happy to be reunited with your bestfriends, class wasn't too bad for the first time in ages and you're off to get some good mochi donuts. But of course, you've come to learn that these things don't last, and they don't last for one reason only—

"Hey." Seonghwa says, catching you as he walks out of the gym. "Can I talk to you for a second?" You sigh as you slow your pace, letting your friends walk ahead.

"Seonghwa, I don't have time. We're literally about to leave."

"Just 2 minutes." Your friends look back at you, Chaery making it very obvious of her distaste for him. He doesn't care much though, because what Seonghwa wants is what he gets. He won't stop until he gets it. "Please, 2 minutes."

"Fine." You cross your arms. "What?"

"You're still upset?"

"Why wouldn't I be, Hwa? Tell me one good reason."

"I said I was sorry. We were just talking. I didn't know I couldn't talk to my classmates."

"Right. Just talking even with your other classmate who stepped out of your car that morning, too?"

"Baby." He groans a bit. "She just needed a ride. Why do I have to explain all of this to you? You know I wouldn't do that."

"Unfortunately, no. I don't know. I don't know what you're up to when we aren't together."

"And I'm telling you now. Stop listening to other people and assuming. Just talk to me and ask me." He says. "I hate when we're like this. I don't want you mad, and I just wanna move past this." He actually sounds a bit worried, but you know better than to just let your guard down right away because he has hurt you before. He has done things 'behind your back.' He has made it very clear what you were to him. "Besides, it's not just me. That whole thing with Yunho—"

"No. You don't get to do that. You don't get to drag him into this." You shake your head. "This is such a waste of time, and we're just going in circles. I need to go." You turn but he gently grabs you by the wrist to stop you.

"Okay, okay. Baby. I'll stop. I'm sorry." There he goes again. At this point, all you can do is stare at him. You have nothing else to say, and you're not sure what else to do. Seonghwa is going in circles and you know it's because he's sorry that he got caught;

Not because he is truly and genuinely sorry about being a dick and treating you this way.

"Y/N, let's go. We don't have much time before practice." Soobin calls out, his eyes glued on Seonghwa.

"I really need to go."

"I'll come pick you up tonight then, okay? After practice." You don't say anything— don't do anything really— besides give Seonghwa one last look before turning on your heel to head back to your friends. "I'll be there." He says as you continue walking, letting out a deep sigh.

"Sorry." You climb in next to Chaery in the backseat and buckle in, with Soobin driving out of the lot.

"It's cool. We should just go so we can get back in time. Hyunjin will never let it go if we show up late." Seungmin says.

"We'll just shove a mochi donut in his face, he'll be okay." Chaery responds, texting away before turning her attention towards you. "Babe, what was that about?"

"He was just trying to apologize for how it's been."

"How.. what's been? He's always been this way so what's the difference?"

"I don't know."

"Are you seeing him later?"

"I guess."

"He better make that the best damn apology anyone has ever seen."

"Let's hope so." You give her a pursed smile and shrug.

Soobin takes the quick drive into downtown, pulling up to a parking spot just around the corner from the new mochi donut shop. There's a few people waiting in line outside, but it moves quick. The four of you fall in line, each chiming in about how the day went and anything new that's happened. Soobin starts to discuss plans for Christmas break that'll soon peak around the corner— explaining how he plans to go home and spend time with his baby cousins who will be in town. You find out Seungmin and Chaery also plan to go home every now and then. For you, you're not really sure what your plans are. Perhaps you'll fall in the middle since you do love seeing your mom and older sister, however the space and freedom is always nice.

The line continues to move bit by bit until your group is finally at the front. Seungmin orders two boxes to bring to the studio, while the rest of your group orders individual donuts to try out. Before eating your donut, you snap a picture and immediately think about Yunho. You second-guess texting the photo to him, but you do it anyways— hoping it will give him some kind of boost of energy for his evening.

Which, is fair. Because Yunho is in the library already struggling to get through some of this project.

you: here's your donut! i'll eat it on your behalf.

Yunho chuckles a bit to himself before responding.

yunho: thanks. 😊 really appreciate the support.

you: hopefully you can feel the boost of energy from here!

yunho: already do!

You giggle and set your phone into your pocket before continuing on with your friends, mentally preparing for your own evening of practice and class.

Yunho makes his trek to the back parking lot like he usually does at this time, not expecting many people to be around. It's exceptionally chilly tonight that he sucks in a sharp breath to prevent his teeth from chattering too much. He does a little shimmy too, hoping it'll shake the feeling off from his bones until he gets to his car.

God, this walk couldn't be any longer.

As he finally arrives to the back lot, he catches you sitting at the same bench that he saw you sitting at last time. He lets out a breath and shakes his head, slowly walking to his car to give Seonghwa some time to make it to you before he climbs in.

Too bad that doesn't fucking happen.

He tried, he really tried to walk as slow as he could in this cold weather, but he couldn't prolong it any further. He pops his trunk and tosses his bag in, contemplating what his next move is when he sees you wiping away at your face. You're crying, and sitting in the cold— it's a damn shame he can't molly-whop Seonghwa's ass into the next lifetime right at this very moment.

"Fucking dick." He mutters to himself when he climbs into his car and drives over to the entrance, quickly hopping out to jog over to you with his extra jacket in hand. You don't really notice him though [and he doesn't wanna scare the hell out of you], so he stops at a certain distance before clearing his throat. You turn to him with watery eyes, but you manage to put on a tiny smile for him anyway. Probably to try and hide the fact that you're crying over Park Seonghwa, but it's too late.

He knows.

"Yunho, hi." You wipe at your face once more. "What're you doing here?"

"I was just about to leave, but I saw you sitting here."

"Oh, no. Don't worry about me. My ride is.. coming." You pause a bit in between words.

"You sure?" Yunho cocks a brow up and you nod. No.

"Yes." You lie anyway. Truth be told, you know Seonghwa isn't coming at this point but you still hold onto hope. It's been close to a fucking hour and you ridiculously hold onto hope. You glance at Yunho but his facial expression shows that he doesn't believe you one bit.

He knows, he knows.

So, he gestures towards his car and purses his lips together.

"It's freezing. If you really wanna wait for him, you can wait in my car until he gets closer." Is all he says. Wow, he really knows. "I just can't let you wait here any longer by yourself." You look at him and immediately know through his look alone that he's not gonna let this one go. You simply give him a curt nod before standing. He extends his arms out when you get a little closer, draping his jacket over your shoulders. It's a thick zip-up, and Yunho's scent lingers on the fabric. He smells good, you think— hints of an earthy, woody cologne he uses, mixed with laundry detergent. "You can wear my jacket for now to warm up."

"Yunho, you really don't have to."

"I do." He says in a gentle tone. He swings his passenger door open, allowing you to settle in before hopping in the driver's seat. He instantly turns up the heat before sitting back and scrolling through his phone, picking a song on his playlist to play softly in the background.

"He's not coming." You say close to a whisper as you fiddle with your fingers on your lap, Yunho cocking his head to the side to look at you.

"I'll take you home then."

"No, it's alright. I can call my roommates—"

"We live in the same community, it's not a problem Y/N." He chuckles.

"Right. Thank you." You look up at him and he gives you a toothless smile before driving off. It's a little awkward, embarrassing even, that you were caught crying over somebody who didn't deserve the tears. Somebody who stood you up and left you in the cold, somebody who didn't even care to text or call. Somebody who is probably getting busy as we speak—

Yeah, definitely undeserving.

You almost wanna cry again as you look out the window, feeling so incredibly small and stupid for this shit. But, it's like Yunho knows what's going on in your head, what you're feeling like. He doesn't have to ask, and quite frankly, he's pretty pissed himself that Seonghwa could just continuously leave you out in the cold like that. Who the fuck does that?

"You deserve better." Yunho says, running his finger across his bottom lip as he continues to keep his eyes on the road.

"I know."

"I don't know the whole story, and I can't say I understand, but you can't keep hoping Seonghwa will change for you. He's an absolute dick."

"Yeah, he is." You admit it with a whisper. Yunho won't say anything more though, he didn't necessarily pick you up to lecture you.

"Is there anything you need before going home?" You shake your head.

"No, just wanna get home and get comfy."

"Okay."

"I definitely need to get you lunch now." He chuckles and shakes his head.

"You don't owe me anything."

"So, you don't wanna have lunch with me tomorrow?" You look at him all doe-eyed and he can't help but smile bigger. You're cute.

"Never said that. I just don't want you to repay me for anything."

"Just this once?" You pout a bit. You're so cute. "We can go to that new brunch place in town."

"If you wanted to hang out, you could've just asked." He smirks and you let out a small snort.

"Funny." You turn to him. "Seriously. If you're free, let me buy you lunch. At least something to say thank you for keeping me warm and out of the cold." He nods.

"Sure. I have a good break in between classes tomorrow."

"Okay. I'll just text you when I get out of my class then." You lean your head back against the headrest and stare out the window, exhaustion slowly starting to hit you. "By the way, that literature review you helped me with? I got an A on it."

"Sweet. Nice to know I can be of help." You chuckle.

"You're a lot of help." Yunho smiles to himself as he continues to drive, a comfortable silence falling in the car for the rest of the way.

When he pulls into the lot, he snags a parking spot near his building just because he knows he'll walk you over to yours. It's a small, tightknit community, and the walk to your building is merely across the parking lot, but it's his priority to make sure you get home safely. He does a slight jog to open your door before popping the trunk to grab your things, handing you your bag with a soft smile on his face.

He's cute.

"Well, I'm there, so.." You point towards your building. "See you tomorrow?" He shakes his head.

"Come on, I'll walk you."

"Yunho—"

"It's a quick walk."

"You do too much for me." He looks at the ground and lazily kicks at the fallen leaves.

"I don't think so. This is the bare minimum, and it's quite obvious someone hasn't been putting in the effort." He sucks on his bottom lip while looking at you.

"You can say that."

"I don't mean to say this in an attacking manner or anything."

"No I know, Yunho. I know you wouldn't do that."

"Good." He stops in front of the stairs that'll lead you up to your unit.

"Thanks for everything tonight."

"Anytime."

"Goodnight Yunho, walk safely." He lets out a small laugh.

"Goodnight Y/N." He watches as you slowly walk up the steps, only turning when he feels satisfied enough to leave you.

"Oh, Yunho!" You call for him around the corner of the steps and poke your head out. "Your jacket?"

"You can just give it to me tomorrow."

"Okay. Goodnight!"

"Night." He chuckles, digging his hands into his pockets as he walks off to his apartment.

Per usual, he steps in and hears his roommate yelling at his computer screen while locked away in his room. His roommate is cool and all, but they talk here and there; not too often. Yeosang is usually minding his own business with his own group of friends, in and out of the apartment with the occasional guest over. Other times, he's locked in his room while playing games. He cooks ramen a lot, and he typically asks Yunho if he wants some— which is nice of him, and he's grateful. Yunho is okay with being in his own company for the most part. As a matter of fact, it's less of a headache that way since he doesn't have to worry much about others around him. He's always been quiet and more reserved, moreso just for the sake of his own peace. He doesn't go out of his way for people, so he finds himself chuckling at the fact that he pulled all that shit for you. Not saying you weren't worth the trouble, but it felt so out of character that he wasn't sure what he was trying to do here. Though, he can say he does find comfort in your company and he can't say that for a lot of people. It's easy for him to feel relaxed around you even though he hasn't spent a lot of time with you outside of the classroom. It's just who you are and how you carry yourself. Your aura, your personality.

It's nice, refreshing really. You don't have to try to be these things, it comes naturally.

Suddenly, Yeosang's door swings open and he's walking out in a baggy black tee and sweats. Yunho decides he'll cook up some spam.

"What's up, dude." Yeosang grabs a water bottle from the fridge.

"I'm about to cook some spam, do you want some?" Yeosang shakes his head.

"I'm good, thanks. Had dinner earlier." Yeosang looks at him with a brow cocked up. "Surprised you didn't grab anything on your way home?"

"Was gonna but got caught up with something as I was about to leave."

"Something or someone?"

"Someone." Yunho shrugs.

"Are you seeing someone?"

"What, no?! I just ran into Y/N and she was having a rough night."

"Y/N? The junior messing with Park Seonghwa?" Yeosang says and Yunho rolls his eyes. Unbelievable. You can't even spell your name without Seonghwa nowadays.

"Uh, yeah her."

"Surprised that's still a thing." Yeosang does a slight head tilt. "He must have some feelings, right? I've never seen him hold onto someone for so long the way he does with Y/N." Yunho shrugs. He doesn't really wanna talk about this right now, let alone think about you and Seonghwa. Because what does Yeosang even mean? Feelings?

The truth is that Seonghwa is a dumbass and that's that.

He doesn't do feelings.

"He left her out in the cold for close to an hour, so. Highly doubt it's that." Yunho says with a subtle hint of venom in his words. Yeosang catches on though, even when Yunho tries to avoid eye contact and continues to quietly cook away at his spam.

"Poor girl. She really deserves better." Yunho finally looks at him for a brief moment, but gives him a quick nod before returning his attention to the pan.

"Sure you don't want any?"

"Positive. Thanks." Yunho shrugs just as Yeosang begins to head back to his room. "Alright, calling it a night." Yunho nods in acknowledgement before Yeosang can shut his door. Once he's finished cooking, he shuts off the heat, cleans a bit and takes his bowl into his room.

The only lights bouncing off of the walls are from his computer screens. There's something soothing about sitting in a dimly lit room at this time of night, especially when Yunho finds his mind wandering. He's eating and catching up on his show, but he's not really catching onto anything that's happening or what's being said. Before he can even think about what he's trying to do, he picks up his phone and pulls up your message thread. He chuckles to himself a bit re-reading the message you sent him with a picture of your mochi donut.

Cute.

He doesn't really think much about other people, but he's wondering if you're okay. He still can't believe Seonghwa left you out in the cold, and he knows you have been crying.

No, he needs to give you space. You give him some attention and now he's acting up.

No, Yunho.

Chill the fuck out.

He sighs to himself and shoves his phone to the side, erasing every possible text he could draft in his head because he won't send you a text. He'll let you be. He'll give you your space, let you be in your own peace.

Besides, you might prefer to recover alone. Recharge alone. Be alone.

He hopes you are okay.

He hopes you are warm and comfortable, and that you aren't crying over Park Seonghwa's dumbass.

Hopefully, sleep finds you.

But tonight, he doesn't think sleep will find him.

"Hey." You shuttle into the apartment and toss your things aside. "Chaery and Soobin aren't home yet?"

"Hey, no. They have some studying to get done and wanted to do it at the library." Seungmin's eyes glaze over you. "I thought you were gonna be with Seonghwa?" He asks as he cooks himself a cheese quesadilla.

"Well, he never picked me up."

"What?" Seungmin furrows his brows as he angrily shuts off the burner and turns to you. "I swear I'll fight him. It's freezing outside. Doesn't he know that?"

"I know, Seungmin. Please don't tell Soobin or Chaery, I don't wanna hear it right now." He sighs heavily and shakes his head as if to dismiss his thoughts.

"Fine, whatever. I just hope this finally gives you enough of a reason to stop messing with him." You look down, feeling like a child being scolded by their parent. "So how did you get home? Whose jacket are you wearing?" He comes closer to inspect you.

"It's.. Yunho's."

"Yunho? How did you get Yunho's jacket?"

"He saw me waiting out in the cold and gave me his jacket."

"He took you home?" You nod.

"Yeah, when I told him Seonghwa wasn't gonna come."

"I'm really glad he was there."

"I am too. He even walked me to the steps before leaving."

"God, Y/N. You've gotten so used to the way Seonghwa treats you, and to be honest, I hate it. He's a piece of shit. Just date Yunho." You sigh.

"Not you, too."

"I mean, I'm partially joking, but Yunho has already done more for you in these past days than Seonghwa has the past months. You're my bestfriend, and you know I love you. You're way too good for him."

"Yunho and I are just friends, classmates even. We don't really talk like that."

"Still, he manages to help you when you need it the most without asking for anything in return. Says a lot about his character."

"I'm just gonna go shower." Seungmin sighs when he sees you hauling your things into your room. "I still have some homework to get done."

"Do you want me to make you some food?"

"Sure, whatever you whip up, I'll eat." You give him a small, but somewhat defeated, smile. "Thank you."

"Of course." And with that, you head in for a long, hot shower, unsure of how to feel tonight. You knew you needed to stop messing with Seonghwa, but you weren't sure why it was hard for you to cut him off. Maybe it was the attention you received behind doors, Seonghwa being a different Seonghwa that showered you in love, care— even though you knew he didn't entirely mean it. That he didn't genuinely care or feel for you, that he can't commit to you and only you.

He likes the idea of you the most, not you.

But Seonghwa wasn't the only thing occupying your thoughts, it was definitely Yunho, too. You couldn't help but wonder where all of that came from when you didn't know much about him and he didn't know much about you.

Maybe you were used to the way that Seonghwa treated you. It's not that Yunho was doing too much, it was the fact that you already expected less.

You were used to less.

Not even the bare minimum.

Hopping out of the shower, Seungmin has a hot bowl of rice with a sausage and egg omelett sitting on your desk along with a piping hot cup of green tea [drenched in honey, just the way you like it]. You smile and dig in, scrolling through your phone to see a notification from Seonghwa—

seonghwa: fuck baby, i'm sorry. something came up

seonghwa: where are you?

seonghwa: i'm so sorry about everything, i know we've been fighting lately and i haven't been my best towards you. i'll make it up to you, i promise

seonghwa: baby please, talk to me. can i come get you now?

You roll your eyes and toss your phone aside, pulling out your laptop so you can finish up your homework. You don't feel like responding to Seonghwa, and you don't feel like thinking about him any longer.

He's already taken up too much of your time and effort.

You slip on your headphones and power through the rest of the assignments you had left. It wasn't much, and it doesn't take long, so you begin to draft out bits and pieces to your literature paper.

Suddenly, you think of Yunho again.

A small smile is etched across your face when you remember his company tonight. You really are truly grateful he stepped in and brought you home.

Maybe he's on his walk, you're not sure. But, you don't want to be a bother.

You just hope he's okay and that he's taking care of himself after tonight.

He deserves it.

♣︎ taglist: @s-nsanshine @soupbinlily @tyongff-ff @jiminiscricket @g1g1l @staytinyinmybpack @woomyteez @gfksz @bitchwhytho @savluvsmingi @thisisntmyrightera @hyukssunflower @miriamxsworld @tmtxtf @kuromibabe04 @lmnhead @carrietwrites @tournesol155 @persphonesorchid @txt-yaomi @marsattacks @mxnsxngie @h-nji [bold = can’t tag 🥺]

#yunho fanfic #yunho series #jeong yunho series #jeong yunho fanfic #ateez series #ateez fanfic #ateez #yunho #yunho x reader #jeong yunho x reader #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #yunho smut #yunho angst #yunho fluff #jeong yunho smut #jeong yunho angst #jeong yunho fluff #hwaslayer: project make you love me

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kittensinribbons · 3 months

Text

stray cat pt. 2 | pt. 1 here (provides context!)

wc:

a/n: this one took so much longer than anything i've written yet, but i really like it and i hope you guys do too!!

cw: angst with comfort, past relationship issues, ghost learns how to be vulnerable for you, reader has they/them pronouns, no caps (at this point it's stylistic)

although it took some internal debate, you ultimately decided to try and lull the cat into joining you. "or i could jus' catch 'er," ghost told you, reluctant to let your hand go. "woul'n't be hard."

you smiled and squeezed his hand back. "she'd probably just run," you replied. "i'll be back in a bit, don't worry." but you pressed a kiss to his cheek before you left.

it took about ten minutes for you to convince the cat to come anywhere closer than a few feet away, and a minute for you to finally pet her. you began to lead her towards the truck, where 141 waits for you to start driving.

"mind tellin' your little lover to get us the hell out of here?" soap grumbled to ghost.

it earned him a sharper glare than usual. "you 'n' i both know they won' leave wi'out 'er."

and that was the best solution you all had.

finally, after a considerable amount of time, you coaxed your new companion onto the truck, into the passenger's seat with price. "'bout damn time," soap mumbled. he shut the back before ghost could give him another glare.

"keep your mouth shut, or i'll send her into the backseat with you all," you replied. for a moment, you watched the cat settle in. she seemed confused, sticking close to your legs. she let out a loud meow of disdain, though didn't try to leave your side.

"gotta step on it if we're gonna make it in time," price told you, making you remember that you were on the field, and nursing a stray back to health was something you'd have to do later.

"yes, sir," you replied, starting up the engine. it rumbled under your boots and made your entire skeleton feel like it was shaking. the poor cat below you started to cling to your leg. "shh, shh," you tried to soothe, even though you were already out and on the road.

it took an hour for her to settle down. finally, though she stayed firmly wrapped around you, she seemed to be sleeping. at the least, she wasn't moving. maybe it wasn't the best idea for you, the driver, to keep her, but nobody else seemed keen. "we need to give her a name," you said, mostly to ghost- your voice had taken on that tone that you only used with him.

"we?" he dryly replied.

you met his gaze in the rearview mirror with amusement. "what, she's just mine? didn't think we'd be doing shared custody this early in our relationship." you smiled, then turned your eyes back to the road.

shame.

"besides," you continued, taking as smooth a turn as you could in the "tin can running on hopes and dreams," as you so fondly called it, "i can't think of anything."

the truck grew uncharacteristically silent. the air was usually full of soap and ghost's borderline arguing, but soap had his moments of silence. or ghost was glaring at him in the backseat, silently threatening him to shut up.

both likely.

after a moment, he just said, "eva."

you thought about it for a moment. "eva," you said, rolling the name off of your tongue. "i like it."

"'course, you could just name her 'kitty,'" soap suggested.

"johnny."

"yeah?"

"shut the fuck up."

"you both shut the fuck up," price groaned.

and for another hour, so the ride went.

♡

the moment you touched down at the new base, you began coaxing eva out. while the rest of 141 starts to head where they're needed, ghost does the same, heading to your side as soon as he can. his arm rests around your waist as you try to get her to come to you. "think she wants to nap a little longer," you tell him, your voice a fond coo.

"mm, don't blame her," he replied. "could do with a nap, myself."

as ghost began kissing the back of your neck through his mask, you managed to get a (disgruntled) eva in your arms. "simon!" you giggle, trying to shoo him once his touch grows ticklish.

he can't help but chuckle at your reaction. "sorry, love," he replied, but he wasn't a bit sorry.

not that you minded. "just get me something i can wash her in," you told him, mimicking price's commanding tone.

"yes, commander," ghost quipped back. with a fond chuckle, he squeezed your waist, then went off to do just that.

♡

a few minutes later, ghost found himself employed with washing a very resistant eva. he held her while you used a bottle of baby shampoo to clean her off. “aww,” you cooed, delicately rubbing a ring around her neck. “you poor thing. how long

have you been alone?”

simon tensed at the question. the room was so dark; if it weren’t for the moonlight draping over your face, he couldn’t see you at all. not that he would have needed it. somehow, he could sense where you were, and maybe that was the issue. “that obvious, eh?” he replied, trying to have a laugh at himself.

trying.

ghost shook himself out of the memory. he rapidly glanced at you, trying to see if you'd noticed. thankfully, you were too busy with lathering up little eva. her meows turned sharp in protest, so you cooed, "i know, i know, honey, but we gotta get you clean."

and given that her suds were coming off rusty brown, you were quite right. suddenly, eva began trying to shake herself out of ghost's hold, but he held onto her the best he could. "feisty thing," he mused.

it made you giggle, which made ghost smile. once she stopped flailing and accepted her fate, you kept washing her off

“-than you shoul' ever need to use.”

the words make you frown, which makes simon want to hold you into his arms and smooth out the line between your eyes. he can't stand seeing you anything but happy. simon knew that was the part of him you fell in love with- the doting man instead of the soldier. because there can't be anything but the soldier. there can't be. he can't be a man, because if simon was truly a man, then that meant a man did all the things he did. not a soldier.

so he doesn’t even acknowledge you. instead, simon picks up his gun and starts to walk off.

maybe he should have known it wouldn't be that easy.

your voice is so small, but it seems to echo as you ask, “what do you mean?”

which makes simon want to cry.

"there we go!" you said, placing the bottle of shampoo down. as you reached for eva, ghost let you take her. there was a layer of suds all the way from his fingertips to his elbows. but you looked far worse, so he didn't complain. you smiled down at the angry mess of fur and shampoo in your arms. "c'mon, honey, time to rinse"

eva yowled as you slowly lowered her into the bucket.

simon tries to walk on. tries to tell himself, make himself believe, that he can exist in a world where you don’t.

but that’s the thing with simon.

he tries to stay away. he tries to believe he can live alone, like he always has. that he can go back to the life where you, sunshine smile and eyes brighter than any future he can think of, had nothing to do with him, or any of this.

“si

mon?"

ghost glances up at you again. his eyes, though he hadn't realized it before, had been fully focused on eva. she was still in the bucket he had found, but was mostly rinsed by now. you looked a little confused, like you'd called him a few times, and he hadn't replied.

"sorry. you said som'in, love?" he asked.

"'s alright," you replied. you pressed a kiss to his cheek, which he gladly reciprocated. "could you get me a towel or blanket to dry her?"

although ghost usually would have wanted to cling to you, he felt like a walk would do him some good. so he said, "'course, love," pressed a kiss to your neck, then went to do just that.

he stops. your voice isn’t angry- sometimes simon thinks you've never been angry your entire life. but there's an exasperation there that he's never heard in you before.

"you don't get to leave because things got hard!" you tell him, your voice stronger than it's ever been, but still wavering. he knows how you hate to argue. "you don't get to have the good part of us, then give up because you're faced with the worst parts of you. that's not how this works."

simon's grip on his gun tightens. but it's not out of anger. he can't be angry with you without hating himself for it.

the longer he stares, the more your lip quivers. and then he's not staring, and neither are you. you both rush into each other's arms. he drops the gun in his haste, and the sound of it hitting the floor almost scares him, he's so scared he's going to hurt you. he's always scared he's going to hurt you.

ghost grabbed a blanket from his bunk as quickly as he could and walked back to you. this time, he did his best to keep his mind clear; the past was never a pretty thing. something he of all people knew quite well.

and all the way across the field, there you were. you smiled at little eva in a way that made ghost wonder if you had ever been sad in your life. he knew you had- he'd been with you long enough to see it for himself- but sometimes, you acted like nothing horrible had ever happened to you.

"'ere you are, love," ghost said, handing you the blanket.

you took it with an appreciative, "thanks, si," and another kiss to his cheek. "d'you mind draining the tub, too? sorry, i kind of forgot that you need two hands to clean a cat."

ghost let out a soft chuckle, already taking the bucket. he walked a few paces to empty it while you began to dry little eva. when he glanced back, he noticed how eva was noticeably lighter than before- cream white except her dark ears, paws, face, and tail- and how she shook. even in the hot desert sun, even in your arms, even with the blanket, there eva was, shaking

as he tried to hold you, tried to cup your cheeks and brush your hair away from your eyes. he just wanted to look into your eyes. "'m so sorry," he murmured. "'m so sorry, lovie, 'm-"

“simon,” you whispered, taking his hands so they stopped shaking. they didn't for a while. then you kept kissing his knuckles, nuzzling your face into his palms. for a while, you were silent. simon usually didn't mind it, but this time, he clutched your hands in a desperate attempt to get you to keep going. your voice was just so soft, such a derision from what he’s used to. he feels like a baby crying for his mother to keep lulling him to sleep.

so, ever pliant, you do. "i love you, si," you tell him, your voice soft. you lean into his touch, even though you're the one keeping him in place. "i love you. i love you, i love you. you understand?"

desperately, all simon can do is nod. he tried so hard to stop needing you. to stop loving you. but with his face in your hands, with his heart beating against your own, simon realized he could never live a life without you in it. the thought made him squeeze your hands a bit tighter.

and for the first time in a while, you smile. it makes him melt. but there's something else in your expression, too. expectation.

simon remembers your words. 'you don't get to leave because things got hard.' he swallows and gains some control over his fingers, pushing your hair behind your ear at least. "your eyes are so beautiful," he finally confesses. and it makes your beautiful little eyes soften. "you're so beautiful. god, sweet..."

ghost's blue eyes bore into little eva's. she had stopped shaking; you seemed to have lulled her into a sense of safety. "d'you want to hold her?" you ask him, giving him that smile he's never been able to resist. the one he wants to hold onto for the rest of his damn life.

he was never good at taking risks, not when it came to his heart. but ghost knew he would have to take a few plunges. for you. so he simply replied, "'course i do."

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #lana's writing #cod #call of duty #fanfic

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skullsuited · 8 months

Text

hawaiian party.

inspired by this song.

gif credit.

an fbh!era/college!au imagine full of angst, humor, smoking weed, hiding in a bathroom at a party & grief.

content warning: marijuana usage, mentions of disordered eating, feelings of loneliness & dealing with a parent’s death.

This was the first time you'd been out since your mother's death. Unwillingly so, and yet, here you were, hiding in your best friend's bathroom at a college party. How depressing of you.

Nadia, your best friend and Alpha Theta's starry-eyed sorority member, had practically pleaded on the phone with you to come out and 'let loose', because 'your mom wouldn't want you to rot in your dorm room, eating M&M's and watching reruns of Grey's Anatomy'.

You hated that she had a point. You hated that this was what your life had come to.

Nadia had also mentioned that a few of your other friends would be attending the party and they had, apparently, mentioned how much they 'missed you' and 'wanted to see you'.

How could you say no to them? If you turned them down, you would be stuck in the same bottomless pit of loneliness, grief and M&M's.

For Nadia, for your friends and for your mother's memory, you had decided to attend the party at her sorority. Many of the people there, you didn't know or really bothered to speak to. As you arrived, you noticed a few of your friends lingering around. Niall was talking to Michael and Luke, Liam and Calum were playing spin the bottle with a few strangers, Nadia was nowhere to be seen and Harry was up against a wall, a joint in between his fingers.

He had been the first one to make eye contact with you, to notice your presence. A smile pulled at his lips and before you knew it, he was chasing you upstairs to the bathroom, racing after you as you tried to ditch the scene.

Which is where you are now: in the bathroom, sitting against the tub with Harry sat next to you.

"You've been away." He breaks through the silence between you, taking a drag from the joint he'd been puffing at.

"Yeah." You reply quietly, eyes cast downward, tracing over the tile.

"How, um... how have you been..." He trails off, trying to find the right words.

"Coping?"

Harry looks at you now, emerald eyes overcome with worry and concern for your wellbeing.

"Not very well. I haven't really... haven't really eaten properly. I mean, you know my relationship with food is..."

"A rollercoaster. Been that way for a very long time. I know."

You sigh, unsure of what to say. Of course, Harry knew. Other than Nadia, he was your closest friend. You'd met in high school and were inseparable ever since. Your fingers twitch towards the joint he's holding, and he hands it to you, watching you take a drag from it.

"Your mum was a good person, Y/N. I know she fucked up a lot of things, but one thing she was truthful about was how much she loved you."

"Y'know, what the really fucked up part of that is?"

"What?"

"I don't believe she truly loved me. I mean, after everything she put me through, how can you call that love?"

"Everyone has their own version of love, Y/N. Whether we understand it or not, is completely up to us."

A half-hearted smile tugs at the right corner of your lips. Harry's very emotionally intelligent and opening up to him, even if it's surface level, is helpful.

As you hand him the joint, a question brews in your mind, "What do you think? About love, I mean."

Harry chuckles, taking the joint from you. "I'd like to think that love is a word for a feeling no one can truly describe. I don't believe it's conditional or should be tied down to a person, place or thing. Love, like any other feeling, should be felt freely. Love is part of the human experience."

"Okay, Professor." You grin, "Maybe you should be studying psychology, become a therapist."

"Mm," He hums, "What have you been up to? Besides hibernating."

"I'm watching Grey's Anatomy again."

"Again? Christ, this is the third time!"

"I'm almost done with Season 11, believe it or not."

"Jesus. Do you not get bored of looking at Jesse Williams?"

"Never."

"Is that all you've been doing?"

"What, is wasting away in my bed, anticipating the next time Dr. Jackson Avery is on my screen, not a healthy way to cope with the fact that my mother's dead?"

"You're passively grieving, Y/N. Hell, I don't even think you've allowed yourself to fully process."

"These things take time, H. I can't just piece myself back together."

"S' not what I'm getting at, love. I think you're pushing your grief to the side."

"Harry..."

"If you need a reminder that you can come to someone, that you're allowed to shoulder the burden with someone else, I'm happy to give you one. You can't go through this alone, no matter how hard you try."

"You know just what to say, don't you?"

"Maybe I should become a therapist. M' quite good at it."

"Well, in that case, should I open up now or let you get your PhD first?"

"Don't bother. Dr. Styles is in."

"In all seriousness? Thank you, H... for letting me just... be."

"Don't have to thank me, love. M' always here. Now, why don't we get out of here, smoke a bowl in my car and get you a cheeseburger?"

"Sounds good to me, Styles."

Harry stands, the joint he'd been holding in between his fingers had burnt out. He tosses it in the trash bin near the toilet, before holding his hand out for you to take. You smile up at him, taking ahold of it.

Exiting the bathroom, you both weave through the party and head out into the night.

If there's anything your mom would have wanted for you, it was to have someone like Harry. Harry was supportive, thoughtful. He knew you better than you knew yourself and, at times, you were grateful for that.

With death, comes life. With life, comes love.

Perhaps, Harry would open your eyes to that.

You had hope that he would. That he will.

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irulaan · 1 year

Text

THE ONE | SIRIUS BLACK

— I persist and resist the temptation to ask you if one thing had been different. Would everything be different today?

nav | masterlist

✧ PAIRING. sirius black x fem!reader

✧ WORD COUNT. 3.6k

✧ WARNINGS. angst. cheating. inspired by my own last breakup. mm slightly proofread and all over the place, expect mistakes, sorry! chronology? who’s that? very ooc sirius

The Christmas dinner that year had a gloomy aura. And everyone pointed the finger at your miserable frown and lost eyes, and of course the big sign above your head with bold crimson letters, ‘heartbroken’. Most of them cataloged you as selfish and whiny; why bring your long face to such sweet festivitie? As if you wanted to have those judging eyes all over you, as if you wanted to be there.

You’ll have a few spoonfuls of whatever that doesn’t trigger your desires for throwing up. Maybe you’ll still do, since your emotions are tied up in knots in your stomach.

Poor of them if they dare to ask you how it all started…

Steadying your breathing, you tried to locate your friend without success. She isn't there, because if she’s not early, then she’s not attending. Resigned and a bit anxious, you decided to take a seat. Alone.

The professor just walked in. “Page number 58” Was all she said.

A ragged breathing and faint footsteps caught your attention and your eyes followed the sound to found one of the most eccentric sixth graders. The blond one, well blond, you weren’t sure—his hair resembled the warmest sand. And he was always hurt, a few scars marring his soft skin. You didn’t like to stare. But you had seen him before, of course, he was in that group—the marauders, as they’d named themselves.

He sat beside you. Trying to tame his breathing, he wiped a few beads of sweat from his forehead. His darkish hazel eyes found yours, by his expression you knew he didn’t recognize you. It’s okay, so you smiled, and he did his best to try to imitate you. Maybe he wasn’t very used to smiling at strangers? But there was something else. His constant movements and his wandering eyes were screaming something that wasn’t your business to translate.

But there you were, concerned, once more, by a stranger who didn’t even knew who you were.

“Are you alright?” You whispered to him, and he turned his face towards yours, what it felt like a whiplash. He had piercing eyes and an expression shouting “lunatic”. But he ends up nodding.

It’s weak. And you’ll curse yourself until your death for scavenging into your pocket for a piece of chocolate. “On bad days I like to have one of these. Not much but they’re delicious” You offered to him, and he was clearly confused. How could you mind if you knew he was a troubled soul? “It’s yours” It’s the confirmation he needs to accept it, after all, he just cataloged you as nice, bit weird tho.

This time his faint grin matched his eyes. It isn’t uncomfortable to watch. “Thanks”

He looks hesitant to eat it, but ends up devouring the small theat. It was his favorite flavor. He isn’t searching for new friends but in that second, even if it sounds pathetic, he thinks you’ll be a good friend.

The boy clears his throat, startling you, so you shoot him a look. He’s fine, and he mutters, “Oh, uhm,” He’s looking at your possessions scattered around your open book, searching for a name. And you don’t have a problem understanding what he meant.

With a smile, you say your name.Then you pointed at the forgotten aluminum wrapper tossed on the table, near his own open book. “It’s good, right?”

He finds himself surprised. He felt caught and he doesn’t even know why. “Oh, yeah, it’s perfect, it's not about this… I was wondering, ubm” He’s not usually this awkward, he’d built a confident façade over the years. This was just the full moon’s residue. “Do you have… Can you lend me your last week’s homework? … Please?”

You nodded, almost too excited. Not a lot of people asked for your homework. It’s dumb to feel proud. It’s stupid to feel great because you’re being needed by a stranger that probably is about to forget your name.

“Oh, yeah, of course, you’re lucky she didn’t give us much…”

It's okay to regret that pivotal moment when you saw someone crumbling before your eyes, despite your good intentions. You couldn’t despise Remus, he just opened a door but you shouldn’t have entered into his world. Introducing you to the raven-haired boy was his doing but it was your fault to fall for his empty words and ghostly promises and with it, you destroyed everything.

His laugh makes your heart flutter, but you won’t admit it, not now. “Do you have something to do this weekend?” He inquiries, looking down at you with his bright grey eyes and a playful grin.

You held his stare, as you enjoyed searching for undiscovered eye’s details or marks across his face.

“Oh, no, not really…” There’s a beat of silence. Sirius is about to open his mouth, but you formulate a quick question to rescue you from the second hand embarrassment. “What about you? And the boys?”

He frowns, it’s subtle, but still noticeable. “I don’t know about the boys… not really” There's another awkward pause, which seems to drag on and yet is over too quickly. This is far easier for him, you should’ve known. “I was wondering that, because I think it would be great if we go out… to Hogsmeade, together?”

Oh, there are birds chirping in your heart so loud you could hear them. “Yeah, absolutely” You tried to not smile too big, too enthusiastically. It’s pointless, you don’t really want to hide what’s happening inside you, but you’re afraid too.

Now you know you shouldn’t have to accept it, you shouldn’t have jumped into his sticky, harmful webs.

That day you gave him your best smile, your best content eyes. Your softest tone. “We’re going to have a really great time!”

In the present day, and far away from that memory, you understood why your friends hated him so much, even if at the start he hadn’t technically done anything wrong. They knew. Maybe you knew too, but choose blindness.

You thought you'd never understand how things changed so fast, the thing is they didn’t. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable how everything was much more vivid and tender than everything before he asked you to be his girlfriend under the beating sun of august. Everything after felt like a weird, gloomy dream.

“I’m sorry I didn’t think you’ll care that much” He had the cheek to shrug.

Your face softened, no longer holding a frown. Angry melted into disappointment. “Of course I care…” Your voice is delicate and he felt like the worst human on earth.

“Don’t make that face,”

Swallowing a knot in your throat, you gather the strength to speak your mind. Fighting how afraid you’re to mess up the relationship. “Siri, it’s just—You know I, we see each other almost everyday and I don’t—I can’t understand why.” You paused to take a breath, to stabilize yourself, to not go to dark places of your mind. It’s inevitable. “It makes me think you don’t wanna go out with me…”

He desperately shakes his head, like he thinks he can change your mind. “Of course I do! You make me laugh, you’re intelligent plus you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen” Outside, you rolled your eyes. Inside, even knowing it was the most common and ordinary line ever, you feel your heart warming. But your face still had that pout. Those glossy eyes. That dark grey cloud above you, ready to wet your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I just have a lot going on right now, You know, with the boys, and other stuff”

And you act like you forgive him. Because you’re good, because you love him, because you’re worried you’re doing everything wrong. “It’s okay,” I’m getting used to it already, you don’t say. There’s thoughts sharp as daggers threatening to cut your poor heart. You had to get away. “I think I’m going I—“

“—How about we go out next week? I don’t think I have something to do” Your heart beat again with anticipation. And you’ll hate him for every word he has ever said to you.

“Sure, but promise me you’ll remember…”

“Of course I’m going to remember. I’ll make it up to you... you’ll see” He promises, once again. And you have no option to believe him. Because he says he loves you. Because maybe you’re being unfair; he has a lot going on in his mind, and you had to be fine being the last of his priorities. “I love you, and I’m really sorry”

He loves you, and you love him. “Love you too,” You suppose love it’s enough.

At some point everything went downhill. He can’t even remember why he was so vexed by you. You couldn’t go to this place with him because you had plans with your friends? Fine, until he started to feel insecure, until the mind that their parents created could see the sun.

You were tired of canceling any plan just for him to forget almost every single time. So you don’t actually realize when you stopped doing it. It seemed natural, like you left behind the sweet feeling of being excited to find out where you were going, what you’ll be doing… all of that replaced by an icy and somewhat uncomfortable feeling of waiting for something that won’t be coming to you. A kind of longing you despised, but couldn’t shake off your mind.

And the first time you realize, was all Sirius fault.

“Don’t look at me like that, Siri, I’m trying to understand you,”

It hurts you seeing him so distressed about something you did, or say. His breath quivers and you could see his fingers are shaking from the anger he felt. And in your mind it was your fault.

“What's so hard to understand?” He whispers, then, he looks at you. Meeting your confused expression hiding your desires to cry underneath. “Fuck, are you stupid?”

You gasp. There must be something else stressing him to this point. It couldn’t be just you, could it be? “Siri…” It’s soft and inviting but he can’t return from his state. “I’ll cancel, okay? And we’re going wherever you want, uhm?”

He shakes his head. His raven waves are disheveled by the many times he had passed his fingers through it. He wanted to come back, but there’s something stopping him. “No, I can’t keep telling you everything you need to do—let me finish!” You opened your mouth again, to say something. To try to get the pieces together, to fix it. But he wasn’t that kind of person. He needed space to think—you had guessed some time ago, because he doesn’t acknowledge it. “Go have your fun, I’ll have my own”

He disappeared, out of your reach. And forever.

He felt guilty, and he wondered if it would ever stop. He was out of his mind, thinking you’ve done the worst to him. Even at some point, his wasted mind told him you were both done. He had seen you angry—or maybe afraid? He doesn’t even remember, but he hadn’t seen that expression on your sweet face before. He swore he would recall, but he never did.

Deep down he knew he had screwed up a long time ago, and a long time ago he stopped caring. After all you’ll feed your heart full with his excuses, empty promises and words he can’t believe he said so lightly.

He took you for granted.

Now he hates you. For not being there, for not standing your ground and trying to change things… and trying to make him a space where he doesn’t deserve to be.

Your heart was falling off your sleeve when you saw him at the table. He was alone. While the others are still sleeping upstairs. The italian summer breeze won’t be enough to soothe your tormented mind, it won’t heal your wounded heart. You didn’t even want to remember why you’re doing this — weren’t you enough?

It was hard to believe you were still there. After everything you knew, you’d still given him a chance. Every step towards his form was touring your crushed heart. “Can we talk?”

He smiles, leaving behind everything he was supposed to do. You don’t miss how his eyes try to avoid yours. “Oh, darling, I’m going somewhere, maybe later?”

At his futile attempt to leave, you became desperate. “No, I can’t wait. I need to talk to you right now.” He caught how your hand is trembling, while trying to reach for him. But it’s late, and the guilt has started to eat his rotting mind. He can’t say it to you. And maybe you wanted to talk about something else—how could you know? “I won’t insist again, please”

He’s being reckless and carelessness, but he doesn’t have the courage to ignore your plea. So he stays glued to the chair. “Fine but it has to be quick”

“Don’t you have something to tell me?” Your voice is breaking under the pressure of what you know. And it’s impossible for you to look into his eyes and confront him. But he shakes his head. And you see everything falling down. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. “I just have one thing to say, but I was just thinking…”

He takes all of his strength to smile. And it’s a pathetic excuse. “Nope, not really. I love you, that’s all”

You frown. Feeling your tears raining down, wetting your cheeks. “But it means nothing now,” He screws his eyes close. Drowning in guilt. In despair because he doesn’t know if you’re going to forgive him. “I know what you did, Sirius”

An horrified expression hardens his features. And he stands up, to embrace you. “I—I can explain it, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry”

In your misery, you accept it. Because it’s his arms. Because he smells familiar, like safety. You had to indulge in it, before losing everything. And it’s not too late when you realize he’s none of that. And had to rip yourself away from him. Your big heartbroken eyes stared straight into his soul. “You weren’t even going to tell me…” Your lower lip twitching, under your faint voice.

His heart shrinks, and he doesn’t know what to do. “I was waiting—“

“—You’re always waiting, it seems” You cut him off, suddenly annoyed by his pathetic cries and words. It almost seems like he doesn’t care at all. Then, why’re you there? Your voice can’t help but keep breaking. “I don’t care about your explanation… your acts have been screaming you wanted this to end. But I assume you’ve been waiting,”

His glossy eyes found yours again to deny your sayings. “That’s not true, please, how could I ever want to break up with you?”

There’s a soft humorless laugh slipping through your mouth. “But you did. Or were you thinking fool me would forgive you for this?” And there’s a bittersweet after taste in your mouth. And he’s shocked, because you never had tried to hurt him with words. In fact, he only was hurt by the collateral damage of things he did or said. “I don’t deserve this, Sirius”.

He falls to his knees, knowing you won’t take him back. “I’m deeply sorry, I swear I can make it up for you,” But you both knew he can’t, even if he was given the chance, he’ll just keep hurting you.

His head hangs low, and there’s some satisfaction in the back of your mind. Knowing he was hurting—or at least he’s good at pretending—even if you’re going through the same.

Suppressing a sob, your voice is a foggy punishment, “We’re done” It’s all you say, leaving him there. And everything after is a blur. No one asked, no one tried to stop you. You didn’t travel alone back home. No, one of the girls decided you couldn’t be left alone. You weren’t expecting anything, they were Sirius’ friends after all.

And Christmas passed by, and other festivities, birthdays, and parties. And you were a ghost. Only your closest friends saw you, as you kept yourself away from Sirius’ circle, not even wanting to hear his name in conversations. But time keeps passing by. Time wasn’t waiting for any of you.

You thought you’d gathered some strength by the time Remus’ birthday came around. It wasn’t foolish to think you could bear seeing Sirius, probably with a pretty another one wrapped around his finger—holding hands and dancing heart to heart to the torturous beat of your favorite song, by his favorite muggle band.

The bricks are cold and rough against your bare, tender back. You light a cigarette, trying to calm your nerves of not seeing him accompanied.

His smell, how his feet struck lightly the pavement gave it away in an instant. This wasn’t supposed to happen, this was—he’s supposed to be a stranger, someone you’ll be meeting again under different eyes.

He stopped and stayed glued to that spot. Near the wall. Only sighs came out of his mouth for what you felt was an eternity. You know he’s dying to speak, but he’s no fool, he knows he has only one opportunity, before you come back inside, running away from him.

He’s helpless if he thinks he still has time. “I’m sorry,” His voice wavered. He never learned how to approach hurt animals, especially if he was the perpetuator of their bubbling anxiety and misery.

You look at him, and you can only be sorry for your buried relationship, for what his hunger for self sabotage and poor emotion control has done. You don’t care if you’re unfair, he deserves all the credit for burning everything to ashes.

A humorless grin adorned your face, “It’s okay, Sirius, you don’t have to do this”

But it’s not okay. It never was.

He closes his eyes, “I regret every single day what I did at that party,”

And you sigh, “I know, I regret that too”. But it wasn’t all, you wish ti add.

And Sirius has to stare at you with his silver eyes, there’s no grin on his lips. He had to know you’re being honest. That you’re not a stranger.

He takes a deep breath, encouraging himself to ask for forgiveness, to explain everything he couldn’t back then. “I should have listened to you. I shouldn’t have let my thoughts taint what we had” Sirius takes a pause. You had a worried expression on your face — you don’t want to go through this, to awake your resentment for him. “I want you to know I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. And I want to tell you that I care, I tried to send you letters and all”

You nodded, you knew, even if he didn’t say it. Entering into Sirius’ mind wasn’t easy. He had to let you in order to get to know the real one behind every mischievous grin, teasing eyes and flirty words. It was just a slip. That, you understood.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t read them. I despised you, and then you stopped sending them”.

Now it’s his turn to understand your doings. “Yeah, I didn’t want to push yourself more” There’s a silence loud enough to push Sirius to an edge and he wasn’t prepared to jump, he doesn’t feel he has the right. But he opens his mouth, “Do you think we…?” And his eyes are shining silver, under the dim yellow lights.

“Siri…”, You whispered, feeling almost sorry for him. He knew it was bad news. “I know you regret it because you broke us, and I hated it, because it doesn’t let me come back to you” His breath wavers and his heart shatters to sharp pieces. “We should stay as friends, as I still care about you”.

He closes his eyes, as a flow of undesired anger sends shivers down his spine. “I can’t be your friend, I’m in love with you!” He lifts his arms, trying to reach for you. He can’t. He knows you’re already so far away. Have been for a while. “I can’t bear having you so near yet so far away. Like life is mocking me!”

Waiting for him to finish, you watched how his hand carded through his thick, raven curls.

“Sirius, I thought so too. I thought I would be forever and always in love with you—I was head over heels, but not anymore.” You paused, “What I'm trying to say, it’s that everything will pass. Time would work things up, and then we’d just remember the good times, and we won't turn these gatherings into our personal hell”.

He shocks his head in disbelief. As if he has a right to deny your feelings—to deny you’ve moved on. “You don’t love me anymore?” In his eyes there’s a plea, and you don’t have what he wants. Lips disappearing into a thin line, you lightly shook your head. “When did you realize?”

“Sirius, I don’t think—“

“—Please,”

He just wants to bury the idea you’ll ever be together again. “When I saw you earlier… and I didn't feel my heart would explode. Didn’t hear the birds chirping…” You pause to smile, and it’s warm, nostalgic. “When I saw you earlier and realized you couldn’t hurt me anymore”.

Your voice fainting at the end of the phrase was everything he swore he wouldn’t do to you. “Shit, I really screwed everything”

When his red rimmed eyes connected with your own, a pang of pain spread through your stomach. You longed to reach for him, embrace his body, shield his mind from anything that could harm him. But he was the one responsible. So you stop yourself.

“Hey, maybe I was distracting you from meeting the love of your life,” He smiles. And you finally feel relieved.

#—୨୧ ˖ ˚ siri #sirius black x reader #sirius black angst #sirius black x reader angst #remus lupin #sirius black

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thornsnvultures · 1 year

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Already There

Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x plus size!fem!reader

cw: slight angst, 950 words

a/n: a short follow up to my fic Ooey Gooey after Bucky leaves with Sam. I've had this 2/3rds written for like 5 or 6 months now 🙃 finished up the rest of it for @the-slumberparty 's week two prompt: Write a drabble/one shot as a continuation to one of your previous works. Based on the song "I'm Already There" by Lonestar. divider by @/firefly-graphics

Bucky can't sleep. Anxiety seeping through his bones. His body isn't used to being on the road for this long anymore.

Sitting at the edge of the too soft, too small bed in just his boxers. Even though the room is cool he's covered in sweat from a night of tossing and turning.

Bucky runs his hands through his hair and thinks of you. How your warm smile can wipe away all his worries. It's why he starts every day with you at the general store. And why he feels your absence so strongly now.

He wants to see you.

It's been days but it feels like years. His phone is a brick, built for making emergency calls out in the middle of nowhere, not video calls like Sam's fancy new iPhone. It still has an antenna for fuck's sake. Until you, Bucky didn't have a reason for a real cell phone. He knows Sam wouldn't mind Bucky using his but Bucky's not waking him up so he can tease him about giving his sort of girlfriend a call at one am.

So Bucky sits there, contemplating. He scratches his stubbled jaw, worrying at his lower lip. Would you even pick up this late at night? You said you'd answer no matter what, but this is different from his usual 9am calls when you're already up and most likely at work.

"Fuck."

Sam stirs behind him on the other bed but doesn't wake. Bucky throws on a pair of sweats and heads for the door to the balcony, grabbing the brick on his way out.

The cool night air wraps around Bucky his sweat slick skin feeling tight as he closes the sliding glass door. There's not much of a view, just the parking lot of this old motel and the fog dense trees beyond.

But the moon, she's nearly full and so, so bright.

Bucky takes a deep breath and dials your number, pushing away thoughts of whether or not he deserves to hear your voice right now. It doesn't matter, he can be selfish for a moment.

The phone rings twice and in those short seconds Bucky's heart rate skyrockets almost painfully until, finally, you answer.

"Bucky?"

The breathy way you whisper his name makes his stomach tighten. It's a moment too long before he responds.

"Hey."

"Everything okay?"

Bucky can hear your sheets rustling, the switch to your lamp clicking on as you presumably sit up in bed.

"Yeah...yeah I'm sorry for waking you. Just couldn't sleep."

He hesitates, the frayed drawstring hanging from his sweats unraveling even more as Bucky plays with it while he takes a deep, shaking breath.

"I -- uh, I wanted to hear your voice."

"Oh."

You sound surprised. Bucky hesitates.

"I'm sorry, it's late I'll let you get back to sleep."

"No! No, it's okay. I'm glad you called."

"Yeah?"

"Of course, Bucky," your giggle makes Bucky smile, feel that warmth spread through his chest again like it did the last time he saw you. Filling him to burst with that one sound.

"God I miss you, sugar. Sam's keeping me up all night with his snoring."

"Oh, no. Is it that bad?," you gasp in mock horror.

Bucky smirks as one of Sam's snores rattles through the glass door behind him.

"The worst, sugar. He could wake the dead."

"Should'a sent you off with ear plugs, huh?"

"Mm, you'll have to remind me next time."

Bucky pauses at the prospect of a "next time", of leaving you again when he's just got started loving you like he's wanted to for what feels like forever.

"I miss you, sugar."

"I miss you too, Buck," he can hear your sweet smile. It makes his heart ache.

Bucky's throat feels tight. He didn't know how much he needed to see your beautiful face every day until he left.

"Is it silly to feel this way? Like I can't breathe without you here."

"It's not silly," you sniffle on the other end of the line and Bucky almost regrets saying anything.

"I can't wait to feel you again. Take you in my arms and not let you go."

You laugh into the receiver and Bucky can't stop from smiling.

"Sam will have to pry me off you with a crowbar to get you off me and back to the Mill."

"He's welcome to try," Bucky practically snarls.

"I love you, Bucky."

He swallows the lump in his throat, taken aback by your sudden admission.

"I know you're having a hard time, but I'm right there with you, sleeping under the same moonlight and wishing you were right here with me. It's not silly. You're not asking for too much. And I miss you way more than you miss me."

Bucky scoffs at your teasing and wipes at his eyes. "No way, sugar.

"Prove it to me when you get back, then. Show me how much you missed me when you see me again and we'll decide then."

"I love you, sugar."

"I know. Make it back home safe so I can have you all to myself."

Bucky adjusts his sleep pants, imagining all the ways he can have you just how he wants to.

"Get some sleep, Buck. I need to know you'll be safe out there on the road."

"I will. I promise."

"Good. Good night, handsome.

"Goodnight, sugar."

Bucky hangs up, giving the antenna a satisfying click shut. He takes one last look at the moon before heading back inside and crawling under the covers. For the first time since before his accident, Bucky falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. And he dreams of you, bathed in moonlight.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes x plus size!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes imagines #lumberjack!bucky barnes #bucky barnes drabble #navy and roo sleepover #my fics

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mushroomnoodles · 7 months

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info

mush/noodle · he/him · 21

read the FAQ?

hi. i draw sfw, nonfetish mpreg. of simon petrikov. i dont take requests unless im particular to them + simon related. but im willing to discuss and answer questions you have abt the whole.. mpreg simon thing lol, and you're always welcome to suggest things you want to see pertaining to my content, just uh.. be patient lol. i dont do a/b/o either. my blog is very fluff + angst forewarning. i aint afraid to touch heavier topics but i try my best to tw them accordingly.

i have a group of running aus and sometimes my content isn't just mpreg. im extremely uncomfortable with proship. please dont be horny on my art, i will block you. other than that im pretty chill

my art tag is #i have a mproblem, i also have #golbaby and #golbaby +1000 if youre looking for the baby or them in 1000 years. #my style is for works in my non-at art style. au tags beneath the cut :)

MAIN TIMELINE AUS (morrigan is the child of GOLBetty and the Simon in the show)

#plainvanilla the default timeline. the au color is purple. #wizardbetty (petrigrof semi-fix it au where simon is brought back in time into an alternate universe where betty survived as a budding wizard in the nuclear fallout, where he has to navigate the apocalypse while pregnant. eventually, morrigan creates a portal back to ooo, and the two try their best to get back to normal life while raising golbaby and trying to relate to humans from a time that is not their own.) the au color is blue.

#spicywizardbetty (similar to wizardbetty but simon is brought to the present day in her au. betty has full MMS and thinks he is her universe's simon come back to be with her.) the au color is the same blue as wizardbetty's.

#replacement dad (morrigan kidnaps an ice king from another universe and uses their transmutation abilities to change the wiring to bring that simon back and change the crown's appearance enchantment to make him resemble their dad. this simon, referred to as Imon or Ice Simon, is kept in morri's pocket dimension while they "fix" him.) this au has no set color. #bad end. (au where morrigan is unable to break the seal placed on them and is born 6 months after their due date; exhausted from trying to break the seal for so long, they drain the life of everything around them and it ends up killing everyone in the candy kingdom. marcy is a chaos creature now and pb is a monstrosity akin to the mother gum) this one is super angsty! the au color is grey. #forever seal (au where the seal placed on morrigan is extremely powerful and meant to be permanent, or at least until pb can figure out how to neutralize golbaby's powers; simon runs off shortly afterwards and is desperately seeking some way to break the seal on his baby. a wanted man, he travels ruins and hunts for artifacts and researches spells, while trying not to garner any attention from the townsfolk he lives with.) the au color is dark green.

#creaturewizards (arguably the most canon divergent, where wizards are all different kinds of mythical creatures. simon was turned into a sphinx and retains the species after being digested by GOLB, where betty becomes a harpy before becoming GOLBETTY. when she impregnates simon, he is expecting a whole litter instead of just morrigan.) the au color is brown.

MAJOR AUS (these universes do not feature morrigan as a golbaby, and the simons, betties, etc are different)

#candyworld (au where simon and betty are recreated as candy people, with betty being the candy elemental in pb's place. eventually she gains proper sentience with no candy person dumb dumb and overthrows pb, becoming the incredibly territorial candy witch.) the au color is pink.

#vamparents (au where simon and betty are vampires in the vampire king's inner circle, known as THE HANGED MAN and THE WORLD separately, and THE LOVERS together. betty was ambushed by a vampire before the mushroom war and was turned, before biting simon to save him from death by radiation poisoning.) the au color is maroon.

#lichtrikov (au where the host body The Lich chooses is the corpse of Simon Petrikov, unwittingly incurring GOLBetty's wrath. there is an alternate timeline of this where she impregnates him with a child meant to punish him forever by rendering him useless.) the au color is green.

#magic morri (au where magic betty and ice king stay together and have morri, who is then taken and raised by pb and marcy) the au color is teal. #dreamtime au (very tiny au following a dream i had once where magic betty turned ice king back into simon successfully after learning he was pregnant. ice king's personality is not entirely gone.) the au color is very loosely dark blue, but doesn't have a set color either.

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its-actually-minicika · 1 year

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The Yule Ball

(HotD Hogwarts!AU)

Part 1 of 3;;

Warnings: Jealousy, jealousy, jealousy; slight yandere Jace and Aemond (you'll be able to tell that better in part 2); angst if you squint; fluff, spice and everything nice

Pairings: Aemond x Reader, Aegon x Reader, Jacerys x Reader

Word count: 13k+ (not proof-read)

How would HotD's Main Three (Aemond, Aegon, Jace) ask you out to the Yule Ball? Would they even gather the courage to do so, before it's too late?

╰┈➤ In this fic, you're a daring Gryffindor, navigating your 5th year at Hogwarts. For the sake of this AU, Aemond (Slytherin) is your best friend, Jace (fellow Gryffindor) is utterly in love with you and Aegon (Hufflepuff) is that emotionally unavailable pervert whom you've befriended... though you're not quite sure why.

Christmas was a time to be celebrated at Hogwarts, both by muggle-born and pure-blood alike.

This year, the latter had been most excited, as the Headmaster announced the on-going preperations for the Yule Ball, a grand festivity that took place once every 4 years, all in honour of the Triwizard Tournament.

The buzzling happiness of the students was palpable: the nervousness of the girls and the slight waver in their voices. The boys, either completely unaffected by the notion of a partner or just as spent on the lingering question plaguing everyone's thoughts... 'So... who will you go with?'

The older students stricking their claim, the younger girls seducing away to secure an invitation...

(Y/N) decided then and there that she had never seen a crowd so colourful, so full of life.

It was around dinner-time when the impetuos doors of the Great Hall opened wide, and through them stepped - or rather, flied - in Jeremiah Blythe, a 6th year Ravenclaw with nothing to lose. Revealing a cage full of Pixie Faeries from underneath his robes, he set the little toublemakers free, still atop his broomstick.

All of them, as if practicing for weeks, flew in different corners of the room, revealing a shimmering banner, engraved with sparks and magical fire, reading the daring proclamation: 'You Should Dance Only With Me'

"Mary Bone, will you go to the Yule Ball with me?" Breathless, the male looked down at the object of his adoration, who, by that point, long forgot all about her mashed potatoes.

"My God, yes! Yes, Jeremy, of course!"

The hall erupted in roaring applause, whistles and yelled out 'Congratulations!' to the happy couple. As they were busy kissing away, (Y/N) gleefully turned her head in the direction of her friend, giggling slightly.

"I feel bad for the guy who's gonna pop the question next! It's pretty hard to beat that flammable display." She laughed softly, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I'd rather sympathize with the one who has to catch those faeries afterwards." Aemond hummed in a monotous tone. His eye quickly scanned the joyous face of his friend's, feeling a pang of fondness, before setting his attention on Otto Hightower, the Head of house Slytherin.

The greying man was all but yelling out at the two reckless students, settling on glaring daggers into their throats and proclaiming with a tumultuous voice: "30 points from Ravenclaw. And 30 from Hufflepuff."

A loud groan shook the Great Hall to the core - Aegon, now with his robes in a twist, looking at his grandfather in pure disbelief. (Y/N) offered him a compassionate look, shrugging her shoulders.

... At least Otto Hightower didn't shy away from punishing everyone equally in his own way. Even the house of his eldest grandson.

Once more, the girl's eyes caught a glimpse of silver hair. She wanted to keep talking to Aemond - the last hectic weeks in their schedules allowing little time for idle chatting. And... of course, the ball...

Before she could think of anything new to say, Aemond threw his leather bag over his shoulder.

"You're leaving already?"

"Mm, I have a paper due in Potions." Eyeing her sheepishly, running a hand past the nape of his neck, the taller boy paused, before opening his mouth once again.

... But just as he was about to add something more, a deep voice cut through his trail of thought.

"Hey there, (Y/N)!" Jacerys' velvety voice rang in her ears. As she spun around in her seat, the girl's eyes lit up, "Jace! It's good to see you!"

The brown haired boy plopped down next to her, quickly placing his hand over his heart, feigning hurt;

"Where were you today? We missed you at practice."

'The Quiddich field', the girl remembered, guilt seeping into her pores. She had promised Jace to be there. But after bumping into Aemond, she completely lost track of time.

Furrowing her brows in a twist, she aired out apologetically, "I'm so sorry, I completely forgot...! I'll make it up to you guys."

Jace's face broke into a boyish smile, one that couldn't help but make (Y/N) blush. The Velaryon gently placed his hand above her hair, patting her down gently.

"Don't fret! I figured something must have stopped you."

Or rather someone. As if on cue, Jace's eyes left (Y/N)'s lips, traveling up, up to meet the lilac gaze of Aemond. Still looking at him with a quirked brow, he muttered to her softly. "Though, if you really want to make it up to me..."

His eyes glimmered with mischief.

'I can think of just the way.' he wanted to say. To finally ask the burning question, that stuck so well to his throat all those weeks ago. The very same question he knew Aemond wanted to ask as well.

"You help me out with that horrible Herbology homework tonight, and we call it a truce. Deal?"

Alas, he settled on what he could bring himself to get. Jace would grow to curse himself for not asking (Y/N) to the Yule Ball that eve - yet the immediate satisfaction of stealing her away from the company of that Targaryen brute was enough to quell his momentary thirst.

(Y/N) smiled at him softly, nodding decidedly, before turning to Aemond. If he also had a paper for Potions class, then maybe they all could --

But Aemond was nowhere to be seen.

"Huh...? Jace, did you see where Aemond left?"

The boy clenched his jaw in irritation of the name, but otherwise remained poised; smiling politely at his friend and shaking his head with furrowed brows, he moved his warm hand from her head to her shoulder.

"Sorry, (Y/N). Must've just gone back to his Common Room."

Defeated, the girl whisked her head around. She tried her very best to catch the reflection of his familiar white hair, but was unable to discern anything else besides Aegon's locks.

As if he could feel her eyes boring holes into his back, his mellow gaze met the one of (Y/N). He raised his glass of fermented wine to his face, gingerly nodding his head with a slight smirk and chugging it all in one gulp.

"You must be right."

Was that... disappointment that she felt? Mixed with some slight irritation, surely - Aemond could have at least told his goodbyes before disappearing like that.

Inhaling sharply, the pale girl nudged Jace's side playfully. "What do you say? Are you free to take care of that homework now?"

Maroon eyes swirled with gratitude. While nodding fevereshly, Jace took both his and (Y/N)'s backpacks, insisting on carrying them himself towards the vacant library.

For the hundreth time that evening, (Y/N) had to stiffle a yawn.

Her and Jace had finally wrapped up that dreadful essay - and if it weren't for the late hour, the two would have celebrated how well it actually turned out.

... Instead, they had sluggishly returned to the Gryffindor dorms.

'Madam Tyrell has to give you an <O> for it.' the girl had told him excitedly, 'It's gotta be our best work yet!'

Jace merely laughed at that, boring deeply into (Y/N)'s heart. The lights erupting from the crackling fire of their Common Room danced across his handsome face, leaving intricate shadows in their wake - each accentuating his masculine features.

With his ears of a red tint, the boy managed to utter out; 'We... We should get some rest. Tomorrow we have that DADA midterm.'

Groaning at the thought, the pair rose up from their armchairs, bidding eachother a sweet good night.

A deep grumble abruptly stopped (Y/N)'s recollection of events.

By Merlin's beard, it was past witching hour. But she was really, really hungry.

The girl slipped out of bed carefully, doning on her white slippers. She threw a singular look over her shoulder, taking in Baela's and Rhaena's sleeping faces, sucking in a breath.

Her visit to the Kitchens would be a short one - it might take a while for her to get to her own bed again, but she could still get at least 3 hours of sleep. And she'd survived on way less during her 4th year's finals season.

Before she knew it, she was past the entrance of her Common Room and well into the open. Giving The Fat Lady a small wave and whispering a quick 'Lumos' underneath her breath, she made her way down the intricate set of stairs.

As predicted, it wouldn't take long for her to slip through the cracked door of the Kitchen. Lit only by a tiny candle, the wooden work space felt utopic.

(Y/N) sighed at the comfort of solitude, grateful for the peace and quiet that the sacred space provided. Her sharp eyes scanned her surroundings, stopping on the cradle of cold milk by the stove.

She slowly approached it, her shaky hand pouring herself a generous glass. Bringing the pure nectar to her lips, she let out a low hum of satisfaction.

Now, where was that food?

Before she could even place her glass back down, a strong pair of arms engulfed her by the waist.

A sudden yielp pertruded from her rosy lips - the Gryffindor spun around with great ferocity, heart hammering in her chest; there was no way someone just touched her like that and imagined there'd be no consequences.

But before she could empty the contents of her glass in the eyes of her attacker, a velvety laugh escaped his lips.

"I believe what you're looking for is in the oven."

Aegon.

"Didn't your mommy teach you never to touch a girl like that?" A bemused smile threatened to seer through (Y/N)'s lips. Eyebrow now quirked, she pushed the 7th year away from her body.

His hands gingerly let go of her waist, though not before circling once, twice, thrice over her hips - the warmth of them, like a scorching fire against her covered skin.

It took all the girl's might not to cringe at the contact. What was it with Targaryens and their ridiculously high body temperature?

"What are you doing here?" She finally asked, voice hoarse, breaking the silence.

His dilated pupils burned holes in her skull, returning the favour she made him at dinner. Aegon took great pleasure drinking in her delicate features, swearing to himself to forever engrave them to his memory. Finally, he graced her with a reply.

"Same as you, right? To grab a bite."

Stroking her side once more in an attempt to slowly move her to the left, the eldest of the Targaryen brothers opened the oven in front of him, revealing a cold pumpkin tart.

"The Gods provide." He whispered in the girl's ear, letting out a snicker once confusion darted across her face. "Once you come here often enough, you learn where to find the actually good stuff."

Grunting in reply, (Y/N) sat down on the kitchen counter, waiting for Aegon to cut her a slice.

The two stood in silence for what felt like an eternity, before the male finally placed a hefty slice in her open palm.

"So." He began dryly. "Are you Gryffindor girls just as crazed for the Yule Ball as the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws?"

He was making an allusion to earlier that day: when Jeremiah's display of affection had cost both Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs 30 points.

Wincing slightly, (Y/N) took a bite of the sweet tart, mulling her answer over.

"I suppose everyone is excited in a way. And more or less desperate for a partener. Though I think that's stupid."

"You think not wanting to go alone is stupid?"

"I think that going with someone has potential to be nice. But it's not the end of the world if you are to go alone." (Y/N) shrugged, scooting closer to the wall.

Aegon got up from his chiar, strutting closer to the cup of milk. Pouring himself a glass nonchalantly, he tutted, amused.

"I think it's one thing for a blooke to go alone. For a girl, it's just sad."

"You really think that?" The girl asked, bewildered by such a decided sentiment.

Aegon didn't miss a beat: "What I think is that you're trying to fool yourself cuz you've got no one to go with."

A teasing smirk tugged and twisted at his features. The silver haired man looked at you expectantly.

He wanted you to bite down on his challenge.

"Are you projecting your own situation?" She tried her best to stay lax, denying him entrance to her deepest thoughts.

Aegon let out a shuddering laugh. "I've had girls come to me like a flock of chickens to their cock."

(Y/N) scrunched her nose at that crude remark, but settled on rolling her eyes instead of matching him with a retort.

"No, sweet (Y/N), I'm definitely not projecting."

"Be that as it may, I still stand by my words. You don't need a partener to have fun at the dance."

"The fox that doesn't get to the grapes always says they're sour..."

"Quit insiunating I've got no one to go with! What's your obsession with that, anyway?" She finally snapped, but regretted her words almost instantly, as Aegon's smile spread even wider, if that was truly possible. Turning on his heel to look her straight in the eye, he pushed his hands near her body's sides, caging her in.

"So she does care, after all."

"I really don't."

"Little poor (Y/N) (L/N), the only girl in her year with absolutely no one who loves her." Slowly quirking his head to the side, Aegon continued. "How does it feel to know you are absolutely lonely?"

A loud slap echoed throughout the room. The sting in (Y/N)'s hand and the red pigment blossoming in Aegon's left cheek all but directly confirmed what had happened. Eyes wide, staring at each other, the sheen of tears in the ones of the fierce lioness.

"How dare you." She more so pointed out than asked.

"The bitch has bite to her." Aegon snarled, rubbing his high cheekbone. "Someone better put a muzzle on that haughty mouth, too."

Having finally heard enough, with nothing else to add to a losing battle, (Y/N)'s legs swung from the counter; soon, she was putting as much distance from her body and Aegon's as humanly possible.

Jerking the back door open, she turned around once more to face her midnight opponent.

"I'd rather have no one to go with, than have to pay for the company I indulged in as you do."

Now finally set off as well, the eldest Targaryen yelled after her fleeting footsteps.

"You know, I would take you there myself if you weren't so bloody proud!"

"Go be benevolent with someone else!"

She could still feel the scorching heat of his hands on her.

The following day had passed, uneventful as all the rest, until dinnertime rolled around.

(Y/N) hastily made her way to the Great Hall, having already been late to the meal by quite some time. She couldn't find Aemond anywhere, neither Jace, Baela or Luke. She didn't dare look for any trace of Aegon, as the wounds from last night didn't yet have time to heal.

Where in the world had everyone ran off to? From the moment of her wake, throughout all her classes... it was as though her friends evaporated in thin air.

No matter, she would not eat alone that day. Gestured to take a seat by Borya Moore, the handsome Durmstrang student that eyed her up since his arrival at Hogwarts, the 5th year girl smiled at him tightly.

He was a charming boy, (Y/N) concluded, while side eyeing him during the fast break; Russia's golden boy, they called him, the champion of their respective school.

Tall, well built, with the greenest of eyes and the blackest of charcoal locks. Indeed, the older male was quite a sight to see.

He was smiling at her politely, talking to her in a gruff voice, laced with a strong accent. He sometimes recieved swift nudges from his surrounding classmates: what was on his mind was clear; and it was not original. All the same, a warm feeling crept it's way within (Y/N)'s chest.

As stated before, Borya was a handsome young man - and he was said to be proud, just and honest to a fault, though never cruel or unattentive.

Although his words were scattered few and far between, he was a good listener and seemed very interested in what the girl had to say.

"Are you excited about the next trail?" (Y/N) asked him, while playing with a piece of bread. Her eyes never raised from her plate, but she could feel his emerald hues running all across her face.

"Yes, excited to win it." The male let out a mirthled laugh, shaking the whole table with him. "Though, I am even more so for the ball."

"I can imagine that!" (Y/N) hummed with a small smile. "You'll have to open with a dance, right? Are you not nervous about that? Or... do you simply like the attention?"

Borya gave her a subtle wink, his hand making a wide gesture at the surrounding tables. Satisfied with her confused face, he quickly clarified:

"I would not think them trained enough to judge my dancing. All of us are here for a good time - trust me when I say, we'll manage the dance just fine."

... 'We'?

His obvious proposition of dancing together reddened your cheeks; but before the conversation could go any further, a flock of familiar silver hair caught your eye.

All hope decimated when, instead of a glimpse of cold green, you were met with the honeyed gold of the house Hufflepuff. Aegon had finally graced the other students with his presence.

A bitter taste formed into your mouth, which only accentuated as he came into better view, hand in hand (or rather, hand on ass) with Vela Castillo, the prettiest girl of the 5th year student body.

Scared to catch his eye, (Y/N) abruptly turned her head in the opposite direction and waited for the couple to sit down.

Aegon skimmed through the wide room from the moment he set foot in it - having located (Y/N), he was willing to do anything, only for her to notice him and his new, dazzling paramour.

He didn't just want her to bite his carefully laid bait this time around - he needed her to. Simply put, he craved her attention.

But the game felt old and boring for the 5th year Gryffindor. (Y/N)'s ember eyes turned back on Borya, pushing down a laugh when she noticed how Aegon sat Vela right in front of them, onto his lap, settling on kissing her passionately.

Coughing in the back of her hand, the girl beamed at her new acquaintance.

"I'm sorry, you were saying?"

A loud bang could be heard from their front - plates full of food were now laying in pieces on the ground. Aegon's and Vela's clash of lips had ended long ago; just what were the two doing now?

Aggravated by her lack of response, Aegon had taken his escapade up a notch, now having placed Vela onto the Hufflepuff table, feeling her up nonchalantly.

His scorching need for a reaction was becoming unbearable. He itched to get something out of (Y/N), anything really - and she figured it out quite easily. The right course of action was for her to keep eating, look as unbothered as can be and keep conversing with Borya.

... Even so, the sight before her would have any witch or wizard twitch in annoyance. If she wanted to see a spectacle, she would have turned for a stroll in Percy's Tour.

Just as their voices started to warm up to moaning, (Y/N) gently sat her cuttery over the empty plate. She grabbed an apple from a nearby bowl of fruit, bidding Borya a shy goodnight, before turning on her toes to leave.

And, had she given the table one last parting look, she would have noticed how Aegon peeled himself off the girl with haste, angered and dissatisfied by the trivial end of their night.

"Stupid Aegon. Stupid Aegon and his stupid need to always start something stupid." (Y/N) fumed, whilst climbing the moving staircase. "How come Professor Hightower took points from an invitation to the dance, but won't bat an eye when his grandson swallows something else besides potatoes at dinner-ti--"

She crashes into a hard chest, and the oozing smell of fresh mint and murkwood tree invades her senses. She doesn't need to look up to confirm who she'd bumped into, but she does.

Ember eyes clash with lilac hues - Aemond, who had been talking to the old portrait of Merlin, keeps a hand close to her waist, barely grazing it. He looks at her, barely startled, but with a forming curiosity pertruding though his eye.

"... Aemond." The girl utters, barely above a whisper. She feels lightheaded, struck by the closeness of her oldest friend. The way she can cast upon his fair features, profiting off of their lack of distance, is almost sinful.

The male is the first to pull away, leaving her somehow wanting.

"(Y/N), I didn't see you there."

The Gryffindor feels a stream of indignation coursing through her veins. Aemond had been avoiding her all day, and these are the first words he tells her?

His velvety voice, his poised stance and his calloused hands, that delicately touched her not a moment ago. She could feel the heat of her body begining to rise, forgetting all about her previous anger.

"Aemond," she repeats once more, "where in Merlin's beard were you today?" She gave the wizard's portrait a quick glance, in order to check if he was piqued by the usage of his name, but was instead startled by how he unnoticedly stepped out of frame.

"Whatever do you mean?" Aemond hummed slightly, furrowing his perfect brows. "We saw eachother at breakfast, did we not?"

"We... yeah, we did. But we always walk together to dinner - I waited for you at the main entrance of the Great Hall, and then I went to check in front of your common room. ...Y-You weren't there."

She vexed herself with how desperate she had managed to sound. She prayed to whatever God would listen for Aemond to not notice.

His eye gave... nothing away. He looked almost bored, irked with her presence. For the thousanth time that day, (Y/N) had to blink away the tears that were threatening to leave her own. She removed her insistent stare from his face, and concentrated upon the books in her hands.

<Potions>, she read the glittering green title of the first textbook.

"Oh, right! You had that midterm paper to finish!" She quickly changed the subject, hoping to salvage what was left of her dignity. The following seconds were met with silence. "How was it?"

'Please just say something', she cursed in her head.

"I got an 'O' for it." Aemond said flatly, before turning oh his heel to resume his walk. Noticing how (Y/N) remained behind, he turned his head to her, jerking it in a gesture that urged her to follow him. "We mustn't stay in one place for too long. You know how the stairs have a mind of their own."

As the two climbed up the steps, (Y/N) fiddled with her black robes - she coughed in the back of her hand and offered Aemond the red apple she had taken from dinner.

"Since..." she began softly, "Since we're walking up instead of down, I assumed you'd skip dinner."

Aemond let out a strained grunt, accepting the fruit from her extended hand. He made no attempt of eating it, however, and simply placed it in an inner pocket of his coat. "Thank you."

The girl pressed her lips in a firm line, nodding strongly, before welcoming the enveloping silence.

A minute, maybe two passed. The tension could be cut by a knife; (Y/N)'s brain was working overtime, faced with his unanswered question.

'Were were you?'

As if he could read her mind, Aemond turned his head to the side. "I asked Alys Rivers to the dance today."

The simplicity of his words left the girl befuddled. "What?" She asked before she could compose herself.

"That's what I was doing. You asked earlier." He clarified almost immediately. His face was still away from her. The only thing (Y/N) could do was guess the expression he was wearing by the tone of his voice, and that was a difficult task.

Alys Rivers. The beautiful 7th year Slytherin - a witch coming from a very powerful family. One of the few half-bloods of her house, she had never met her mother, yet was taken in by her father, Lyonel Strong, almost immediately after her birth.

She was a cold beauty, ethereal in her own right, and (Y/N) couldn't help but painfully smile at the realisation: that she was exactly the type of girl she saw Aemond going for. Perfect, without a flaw to her face or selective character.

The thick coat of jealousy that hugged her frame became almost too much. (Y/N) felt how the air in her lungs spent itself. She felt the warm tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. Too afraid that she hadn't said anything in a while, the witch laced her pained voice with a beaming timbre.

"I'm so happy for you, Aemond! You two make for a very handsome pair!"

She swallowed hard, trying to level herself once more. What was even worse, apart from the fact that she could see it from a mile away, was that she had nothing bad to say of Alys.

Not once had the older witch been cruel to her. Not once had she bullied her, talked ill of her, or her group of friends.

(Y/N) couldn't be mad at her. She couldn't hate her. And that was what stung the most.

"Wow, we got here quick, didn't we?" She exclaimed rather loudly. The girl thanked the stars in the sky and the moon above her head for both their agile steps. At least in her common room, she wouldn't have to see Aemond.

She turned her back quickly on him, muttering the week's password, before stepping foot into the clustered tunnel.

"Thanks for bringing me to my room, Aemond. See you tomorrow, and congrats again!"

The door that closed with the last of her words left a very confused Aemond in their stead. Mouth still agape, as if wanting to add something, he took in a deep breath, somehow dissatisfied by her abrupt departure.

Then again, he himself was to blame for not saying all he wanted that day.

(Y/N) breathed a sigh of relief when the smell of crackling fire finally hit her nose. She prolonged her body against the cold stone wall, taking in a deep breath in order to calm her nerves. When she felt ready, she got up from the ground and made her way across to the Common Room, smiling widely at the lounge of people.

Her tranquility was short lived when she saw Jacerys and Baela, sitting oh so deliciously close to one another on the nearest sofa.

For a second, she froze in her place. The couple seemed to be engrossed in conversation; Jace's arm was draped over Baela's shoulder, both bodies relaxed in front of the fire place. A small blush crept over her cheeks. Jace huffed at something the Targaryen whispered to him, and (Y/N) decided she had seen enough.

Walking past them with renowed vigour, she all but ran to the girls' dorm room, shutting the door swiftly behind her.

As soon as her head hit the cold pillows, (Y/N) felt disheartened. She thought back on what Aegon said, how it was so sad for a girl to go alone to such an event.

She felt angry with herself - for causing a scene with both Jace and Aemond. After all, they didn't owe her anything, and it wasn't their obligation to ask her to the Yule Ball.

The hurt in her chest would last her the whole night, but along with the pang of pain, she was now feeling guilt.

Jace and Baela, she poundered, along with Aemond and Alys, were perfect for eachother. Even Aegon and Vela made for a cute couple. Bringing one of the pillows to her face, (Y/N) groaned her heart out.

It wasn't as though she was unattractive, or she felt as though she would die alone: but it was so unfair, that every boy whom she fancied ended up not looking at her twice.

No. She wouldn't allow herself to sulk over such a trivial thing. And she would definitely not end up seated on a chair throughout the whole night at the ball, looking miserable for either boy to see.

Suddenly, Borya's face lit in her mind. Determined to end her night right, she thrusted herself up from the bed, doning her shoes back on.

Thanks to the obsessive gossip surrounding him, she knew the young man always took a run along the castle's lake at this hour.

(Y/N) smirked to herself. A light jogging sounded just perfect tonight.

The final week before the Yule Ball went rather smoothly. Much to her own dismay, (Y/N) had been avoiding both Jacerys and Aemond.

The males had searched for her long and wide, but whenever one of them would get close to her, (Y/N) always found a way to leave almost immediately.

She wasn't proud of what she was doing. Although an immature reaction, the girl still felt the pang of jealousy and hurt whenever she'd see them with their respective dates.

It was better to avoid them altogether, she concluded.

The gradient dress felt tight against her skin. With each and every step she took, it shifted in colour - from a rich black, to a deep blue and a crimson red. Her hair was up in a braided bun, some loose strands resting upon her slender shoulders, neatly framing her face.

The forming echo of her footsteps washed an eery calmness over her. She couldn't be too fashionably late to the Yule Ball, as she'd have to dance with Borya in the opening waltz; thus, she happily skipped the next stairs in her descent.

Only one last turn separated her from the clustered hall, that led to the ajar doors of the celebration. Taking in one deep breath, (Y/N) made her entrance.

Both Jace and Aegon were made to scurry away by Professor Lynnen, the Head of the Hufflepuffs. Only Aemond remained waiting, as Alys, turned away from him, was talking with one of her friends with joyous interest. He himself was glancing at the appearance of his sister, Helaena, who was spinning around with her own partner.

"Oh, she looks beautiful, Aemond!" Alys exclaimed, coming near her handsome date.

"Yes, she is." He agreed proudly, still looking at his buoyant sister. Realising they weren't looking in the same direction, the Slytherin adjusted his body to face the main entrance to the Great Hall.

He was sure that his heart nearly stopped.

There (Y/N) was, in all her beauty, slowly walking in the direction of their resting bodies. For just a second, Aemond caught himself taking a step forward, wanting to offer the girl his arm.

The air in the room became impossible to bear for him - had she always looked so... ethereal? Her dusted cheeks, the red lips that flowered to a smile when she saw... she saw... Borya?

His trance broke as fast as it began. Before him stepped the champion of the Durmstrang school, who deeply bowed before the woman, eliciting her a small laugh, as he extended his arm out.

He could make her laugh too.

Borya was quick to cup her dainty hand into his own strong one, leading her away and to the grand entrance.

Eyes wide, as if she had just noticed him, (Y/N) offered him a small wave, giggling cheerfully.

"Hey," Alys clung onto his arm, "we should get going too. The main dance is about to start!"

Poor Aemond, still following his friend with his eye, curtly nodded before taking her arm.

Inside, (Y/N) felt like she was flying.

The way Borya was spinning her around, showing her off to everyone in the room with eyes to watch - the way his very own roamed over her face and figure, making her feel safe and desired - was more than anyone in her place could ask for.

Aegon and his date rested in a corner, the gossip surrounding them no different than the one they engaged in.

"Is that... is that (Y/N) (L/N)? With Borya Moore?" Vela chirped loudly next to Aegon's ear. Her eyes were shimmering stars, a swirl of both glee and mild jealousy as she followed the two on the dance floor.

"What...? No way. No, that's... don't be ridiculous. That's impossible! It-It couldn't be her."

Vela's eyes snapped in the direction of her partner, who couldn't seem to stop shaking his head. "Absolutely not." He proclaimed though a strangled breath, more so to convince himself rather than anyone else. "(Y/N) is far too..."

"Gorgeous." Came in the completion, given by none other than Jacerys Velaryon, who, just as the others, would not get his eyes off her. Baela, sympathetically to his right, jabbed his side playfully.

"I told you you'd regret not asking her."

"I tried! I was just... too late." He let out in an exasperrated breath, sighing dreamily as he caught another glimpse of (Y/N)'s dress.

"Next time, pluck up the courage to do it sooner."

"Trust me, I'll take this regret to my grave."

Aegon's face collapsed upon itself. Swishing his finger around accusingly at Jace's face, he managed to blurt out;

"You...! You asked - you asked her. To the ball."

"I was going to." Jace pouted, running a hand down his face. "I bought fireworks and even bribed the student choir to sing her favourite song."

"And why didn't you put your plan in action?" Aegon asked over his shoulder, as he filled his punch cup to the brim. Digging into his dress robes, he pulled out a flask of alcohool, completely draining it before setting his lips on the fruit juice.

"Same reason as you didn't? She was already going with someone else."

At that, Aegon almost spat his drink out. "No, no," he vehemently denied, "I didn't even want to ask her to the dance. I assure you."

Vela looked at him stupefied, while Baela only smirked.

"Of course."

"I didn't!!" He rebuttled.

"Sure." His cousin mused with the same untrusting look.

Throwing Baela one last dirty look, Aegon groaned in disbelief, seeing how Borya lifted (Y/N) into his arms, for the fifth time during that damned song. He deflated into a nearby seat, pulling Vela down with him, and started mumbling to himself.

Jace didn't need much coaxing to follow suit.

Thoughout the night, they gawked and grovelled. Jace took the time to dance with Baela once, twice - as to not let her be alone in missing out on all the fun. Meanwhile, Aegon couldn't be bothered to move from his chair, despite Vela's insistent huffs and obvious hints.

"Bit of a ruddy pumpkinhead, isn't he?" Aegon spat in his drink, lilac eyes glaring daggers into the brunette's back.

"I don't think it was the books that had him going to the library, now that's for sure." Jace commented, not a heartbeat later.

Their souring moods only worsened as the night progressed and (Y/N)'s giggles filled the room.

"What do you think he's even saying to her? Nothing of importance, I bet."

"Oh look at me, I'm Borya Moore and I come from Russia. My accent is deep and my muscles are twice the weigh of my bloody head." Aegon immitated the older man with a skill and tenacity that must have been induced by practice.

"Do you wanna make out?" Vela asked Aegon suddenly, aggravated by the circling conversation.

"No." Came his simple reply.

"May I have your arm?" The deep voice of yet another Durmstrang student cut through their conversation. Bowing lightly before Baela, the Targaryen snickered in amusement.

She grabbed a hold of his hand with gratitude, nodding fevereshly. "Arm, leg - I'm yours."

... And then there were three.

"Do you wanna have sex?" Vela tried once again.

"No." The blonde man sighed.

"... Are you gonna ask me to dance or not?!"

For the first time that night, Aegon turned to look at her. "No."

Ired to no end by his catty behaviour, the Ravenclaw finally relented. She abruptly got up from her chair, going to the closest group of boys she could find and striking up a conversation. Soon enough, even she was dancing her heart out.

Aemond too, took care of his date. But as the end of the night approached them, and the more upbeat songs began to play, Alys couldn't help but start to take offence.

"Your heart's not in it, my dragon." She remarked dryly, moving his chin to face her for the millionth time that night. Slowly stroking his cheek, she tried closing in the distance between them, only to have Aemond jerk his head away.

"Now what is the matter with you?" She demanded, masking her impatience as a seering question. Her green eyes followed his, stopping in their tracks at the sight of the wavy locks of (Y/N) (L/N), the object of her date's pending attention.

"Truly, Aemond? This is the reason you're so distracted?"

A low hum escaped his lips. He turned his saddened gaze on Alys, who smoothly added distance between their sweat stained bodies. She had weighed her words very carefully, now awaiting his answer with a quirked brow.

"It could never be in it." He sighed heavily, reffering to her first statement. "My heart." He added stiffly. "Not while she's here."

A buffled snort escaped Alys' black stained lips. She fully expected Aemond to need more coaxing to admit his true feelings - yet here he was, biting his inner cheek somewhat apologetically.

"I see." She finally spoke though grittered teeth, "And why have you not asked her to the Ball in the first place; You thought it more amusing to waste my time instead?"

"I had thought it a course of action that would suit us both." He answered flatly. Aemond's eye cast over her shoulder, darkening slightly, "I apologise for the inconvenience. Believe me, it was most uncontiously done."

His words were unoriginal, and lacking of any true meaning. For a moment, Alys wanted to curse him for having played with her heart, to scream at him, for daring to shame her so with his open admition of feelings.

But that was only for a moment - for she remembered that she was Alys Rivers, a beautiful and powerful witch, who would not need his approval to bring forth either blessing or calamity.

Gathering her wits about her, she crossed her arms in front of her, shaking her head at his frozen face.

"You should never have done it. Hurt her or attempt to confuse me."

His jaw clenched tightly at the notion of having hurt his dearest friend. And it took all his restraint not to leave Alys alone, in order whisk (Y/N) off the dance floor and apologise, on his knees if he had to, for being so cold towards her.

As if she could read his mind, Alys tutted in feigned annoyance. "Go." she simply said, "Go after her. Or don't, and waste your time in here." Her pretty eyes now held an amused glint in them.

Aemond's very own softened at her - mirroring her beguiled stance, he clasped his hands behind his back, adding on thickly:

"You can slap me if you'd like."

Alys' eyebrows raised in pure wonder, the gesture itself, bigger than all of her reactions that night. She let her head fall back with a mirthled laugh, calming down only after the man's face began to relax.

Snapping back into place, she looked for confirmation in his eyes, before laying a loud slap over his left cheek, kissing it fleetingly afterwards.

"I won't keep you company anymore, you do understand." She said, mildly distracted. And, should she have felt any inflection of sadness, the girl masked it well; turning her back on him, the locks of her black hair whipped his face.

Aemond allowed a small smirk to grace his lips, feeling the rough edges of his scar with two slender fingers. The powerful slap would sure leave a mark (if it hadn't already), but he was greateful for Alys' choice in hitting the only numb spot that he had on his body.

"Don't worry, brother. It gets better after the first time." Both Aegon's delivery and his Cheshire Cat smile told the Slytherin everything he needed to know. His 'breakup' had been very public and wholeheartedly raveled in by his older brother.

While both opened their mouths to say something crass, neither would get the chance to exchange their choice words. The loud applause of the crowd signaled that last song of the night had ended, and with it, so did (Y/N) and Borya's ditzying.

Both brothers had to stiffle a growl at the sight of the Durmstrang boy, kissing (Y/N)'s hands delicately, before stepping away to a faraway table.

The girl looked after him for a while, before spinning thrice in place, breathless from all the ensued dancing. She felt her friends' insistent gaze on her, and she turned to face them, breaking out into a bubbly laugh.

"Hot, isn't it?" She asked as she approached them, "Borya's gone to get some drinks. Would you care to join us?"

Her chest, heaving in and out at a rapid pace, the light tremour of her body... Aegon scoffed harshly at the sight.

"No. We would not care to join you and Borya."

(Y/N)'s smile falthered at his coarse reply. Her eyebrows furrowed, her beautiful smile quickly turning to a frown. "Well what's got your wand in a knot?"

Aegon puffed in indignation, blowing some rebel hairs from his face. He soon made his way to the table Jacerys was sitting at; Aemond and (Y/N) following shortly after.

"He's a Durmstrang. You're fraternizing with the enemy." Aegon spoke in a matter of fact tone, not even bothering to look at her.

"The enemy? Who was it that wanted to be his friend a week ago?" (Y/N) questioned, dumbfounded.

Aegon's eyes settled on the ground. He buried himself in his chair, not daring to look at the girl again.

"Besides," (Y/N) continued, fully aggravated, "The whole point of the tournament is... <international magical cooperation>. To make friends."

"Hah, I think he's got a bit more than friendship on his mind." It was Jace's turn to speak, who turned beet rouge the second (Y/N)'s attention turned to him. Peeling her teary eyes away from his, she looked at Aegon and Aemond. Each avoiding her stare, neither jumping to her defense.

Sneering at their new unspoken antourage and nodding her head in understanding, she got up from her central seat. "How dare you..." was the only thing she muttered, before getting lost in the crowd once more.

"We're only saying that he's using you." Aegon yelled after her fleeting form, sprinting to catch up to (Y/N).

"Thank you, but i can take care of myself." She spewed sarcastically over her shoulder, shocked that they were still stuck on that topic of conversation.

"I severely doubt it." Aemond spoke calmly, "He's way too old for you."

"What? Is that what you think?" The younger witch enquired, now even more enraged by her best friend's allusion.

"Mm, yes. That is what I think." He rejoinded, walking by her side again. The pressure on his heart tightened by the second, but he would not relent. Though he had never felt this way before, Aemond realised what his brain was urging him to do: completely ruin his best friend's night.

It was an ugly thing. But the only thing he believed would bring comfort forth.

(Y/N)'s walking came to an abrupt halt.

"Between me and him, there is a two year age gap. The same can be said for you and Alys, as far as I can remember."

"That's different." Aemond warned her though a low spat.

"How." The Gryffindor asked, forcing out a laugh.

His hands came to grip her shoulders. Although his movements had the intent to keep her looking at him in place, his touch was light and feathered - should she wish to, the girl could easily twist herself away.

His darkened eye came to rest upon her. What Aemond couldn't say, he tried his damnest to show through his stare.

"It's different because Alys is a woman and Borya is a man." Aegon answered in Aemond's stead, snickering lightly at her naivité.

That was the last straw for (Y/N). Peeling Aemond's hands off of her, she turned to face both men, almost shaking in rage.

"You really like that double standard, don't you?" (Y/N) pointed her finger at him, "So what say you is the difference between me and Vela, then? Your age gap with her is two years as well and you think yourself a man."

"Not all of us are like that."

"Like Borya."

"Yeah." He accentuated with an unruffled laugh.

"You know the solution then, don't you?" She tentatively said, closing the distance between them slightly.

"Go on." Aegon demurred through a raised brow.

"Next time there's a ball, pluck up the courage to ask me before somebody else does! Offer me a real invitation. And not as a last resort!"

Tears were now freely streaming down her face. Before their eyes, (Y/N) could feel her hair falling into a mess and her cheeks reddening from the lack of air. Aegon's eyes widened and Aemond's hand reached out to her reflexively.

"W-well that's... that's just completely off the point!" Aegon's voice cracked nervously, now taking several steps back. "Jace...!" He blurted out, seeing his nephiew finally exit the Great Hall.

Aemond didn't turn to greet him, but (Y/N) did. Her eyes were blown out of proportion and her voice was hoarse from yelling. Upon seeing his face, all of the frustrations that she'd bottled up for the past two weeks emptied before them with the strenght of a hurricane.

"Where have you been?" She inhaled sharply.

"W-well Luke needed me to --"

"-- Nevermind! Off to bed, all three of you!"

Jacerys looks at her for a moment - at her tightened lips and teary cheeks.

The guilt pierces his heart like a Dementor's kiss. He knows he's half the reason for (Y/N)'s suffering, her tears only coming into play as a confirmation of how badly he'd hurt her.

Not knowing what to say, fearful that anything else he may add will only ruin her night even further, he nods his head briefly, hurrying past her.

He's climbing the steps with Aegon; Aemond pushed to follow as well by (Y/N)'s trembling hands.

"They get scary when they get older." Aegon articulates to Jace loudly, ripping a loud shriek from the heartbroken girl.

"AEGON, YOU SPOILED EVERYTHING!"

The boys climb up even faster as (Y/N) collapses, a faint "You bloody asshole" being the last thing she discerns before erupting into a fit of sobs.

At last, as soon as she approached her bed, (Y/N)'s feet gave out on supporting her weight.

Looking around the dark room, saddened by the end of such a beautiful day, she noticed how all the other beds were empty. None of her dorm mates returned - all of them more than likely still ghosting though the halls of Hogwarts. Still seating at the edge of her bed, the young girl brought a pillow to her arms, hugging it tightly.

She would take off her make-up, undo what was left of her braids. She'd bathe, change into her night clothes and sleep: during her slumber, she'd soon forget all about the Yule Ball and it's rattling events.

Her life would turn back to normal. Back to the missing assignments and staying up till 2 AM.

The last concept within her trail of thought brought a strained smile upon her swollen lips.

She shakes her head, massaging the nape of her neck with one hand. She gets ready to leave for the Prefect Bathrooms until...

A large shadow grazes the floor of her dorm. Startled, albeit curious of it's main source, (Y/N) scurries to the bright window, peeking outside.

A tiny rock gets thrown on the upper left corner of it. And then another. And another.

Her eyes travel up into the sky, catching a wave of long, silver hair.

... Aemond.

Satisfied that he managed to get her attention, he lowers his broom until he is at precise eye level with her.

A sudden burst of happiness flourishes within her heart.

No.

The last time she'd been eager to see Aemond, the boy all but chased her away. Not even two hours ago, he was dancing with Alys Rivers, paying no mind to her or her crushed feelings.

But then he wasn't. And then he gripped her. Touched her. He stayed behind for her. His eye bore into her frame, searching for her wide smile.

Still lost in thought, she felt Aemond tap into the window, signaling to it's nearby handle. It was cold outside, and he wanted her to open up.

A tiny smile framed her face. Shrugging her shoulders, (Y/N) played with her dress, watching the older male intensely.

Aemond mirrored her expression, pleading with his eye, until (Y/N) finally yielded. She hurried to open her window, making space for an easier landing for her friend.

"What I did to you," Aemond began with a strangled breath, "It was more than just wrong and cruel."

Now leaning on a wall and clasping both her hands together, the younger Gryffindor let out a confirming mumble.

"I know."

"You were always... here for me. Encouraging me." He added slowly, carefully. "When I lost my eye, I thought you would run away. ... Or make fun of me for being crippled."

(Y/N) turned livid at his words. With renowed vigour, she snapped in her place. "Aemond, I would never make fun of you for such a thing. Nor would I ever run."

"I know, I know." He whispered to her softly, daring to approach her and take her hands in his.

He prayed she wouldn't turn away.

When her hands turned lax within his, Aemond thanked whichever God had answered him, swearing his heartbeat became so loud, that all those within the West Tower could hear it.

"You were nothing short of kind. And good. And full of love. The day you kissed over my disfigured face, was the day I swore to always be by your side. As much, and for as long as you'd allow me."

(Y/N) let out a strained breath. She had never heard Aemond talk so feverently. So full of passion.

His pupil, so dilated by love and concentration, that one could barely see the ring of purple she had grown to love so much.

"You did all those things. Expecting nothing in return." As he pondered on her doings, his shuddering hand buried itself into his ball robes.

One by one, he took out all the objects that (Y/N) had given him selflessly throughout their friendship. An apple, stolen from dinner. A handkerchief, used to tie his bleeding knee. A brown hair band, from when his hair had gotten too long for comfort. A red button from her favourite dress, when he lost the one securing his robes, and cried to her that his mother would get mad at him.

Placing everything on the table, he used his free hand to gently cup her face.

"Yet when you needed me most, I ran away." His thumb slowly stroked her bottom lip, then gently moved to her eyes, wiping the black streaks of liner that her crying ensured.

The pair stood in silence for a brief moment, their blood running hot with need, with want, until Aemond swallowed and went on.

"I have no right to ask for your forgiveness." His breathing became laboured before coming to a halt. "So I'm not asking for it. I'm begging for it." As soon as the words left his mouth, the youngest Targaryen fell to his knees.

"... For you."

"God, Aemond...!"

His stare was getting too intense. As if he himself could feel that, he brought her hands down to his face, pressing his forehead against them.

Both their bodies were shaking in the dark. For the thousanth time that night, Aemond cursed himself for being so weak with her.

"Aemond..."

He knew he would never adore anything more than the way his name fell from her lips.

"... I love you." He whispered to (Y/N) and, if she couldn't feel his breath on her hands, she would be sure she had imagined it.

Waves of pure delight took a hold of her when she heard his strained words. Suddenly, all she thought of was how to make him say it again.

"Please - Aemond. Say it again. Please." She gasped, breathless.

"I love you. I love you. Avy jorrāelan. Avy jorrāelan sīr olvie ziry ziebzis."

His desperate pants melted any reminder of (Y/N)'s last resort. Crouching down to his level, she cupped his cheeks into her small hands, making small circles into his skin, tenderly stroking his deep and pink scar.

"I love you, too. So, so much."

That was all the confirmation Aemond needed, before kissing her oh so slowly.

The way his right hand rubbed her jaw soothingly, as if she would break at any moment, his left resting on her waist, pulling her closer - it was truly magical.

For a while, the only sound in the dorm was the echo of their moans and the loud gasps of the wind.

(Y/N) pulled away first, needed fresh air to breathe. Within a second, she dived back in, this time pressing herself harder against Aemond's chest, who only let out a low and satisfied hum.

"Mm, wait --" (Y/N) separated from him with a loud pop. "I hate to be a mood killer, but... w-what about Alys?"

Aemond looked at her adoringly, before licking his lips tentatively. "I can assure you. There was never room in my heart for Alys. Neither could there ever be."

(Y/N) let out a relieved laugh. "Good. Me neither, with Borya." She confessed rather awkwardly, and it was the boy's time to laugh this time. "I would have guessed as much." He said with a dangerous glint in his eye, "With how hard you kissed me, there was barely room for question."

"Speaking of hard things..." The girl mused at him, lightly shoving him away.

The two looked at each other for a moment, before snorting loudly.

Still holding onto her, Aemond went to the edge of her bed, plopping her into it ceremoniously, and stepping towards her window to close it back up. "I don't want you cold."

Striding back into her bed, he laid next to her, brushing the tangled hairs from all around her face. "Though I can think of a few ways to warm you right up."

As she blushed wildly, (Y/N) rolled her eyes at him. Her smiled falthered, however, with one left lingering question, and she raised from her bed, ready to talk serious business.

Sensing the change of mood, Aemond sat upright as well, going over her face. "What happened, jorrāelagon hen issa glaeson? What's on your mind?"

"This..." (Y/N) gestured between them. "Us. What are we now, exactly?" A smirk crept it's way across Aemond's features at that last question. Huffing, (Y/N) crossed her hands to her chest, nudging him slightly. "Don't make fun of me now. I only... want to hear you say it. To make sure we're on the same wave lenght."

"I suppose the appropriate term is 'lovers'. Though, girlfriend and boyfriend work just as well. Companions, innamoratos, paramours, sweethearts..."

"Okay, okay, I got it, thank you." The girl covered his mouth with a loud laugh and felt the great shudder of pleasure, when Aemond covered her hand with his own, kissing the inside flesh of it softly.

"I have long laid my masculinity at the altar of your maidenhood. From now on, and for as long as you will have me - I am yours. And eternally I shall remain."

His tone was serious. Unwavered. And something within (Y/N) knew his words to be true.

"You may cage me forever, as you see fit, just do not release me from your grasp."

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Translations:

"Avy jorrāelan" = I love you;

"Avy jorrāelan sīr olvie ziry ziebzis" = I love you so much it hurts;

"Jorrāelagon hen issa glaeson" = love of my life.

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#aemond x reader #aegon x reader #jace x reader #jacerys x reader #aemond targaryen #aegon targaryen #jacerys strong #jacerys velaryon #house of the dragon #hogwarts #hogwarts au #slow burn #yandere!jace #yandere!aemond

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