#more streams coming up eventually i swear
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I used to be one of those guys when I first joined the Kirby fandom, but everytime I hear a discussion of the series writing that starts with "So the Lore is InSaNe-" and not like, "Kirby has a fun writing style that takes advantage of its cute exterior to tell cool stories that reward player's curiosity and leave lots of room for imagination-" I cringe so goddamn hard.
I kinda just hate that people approach things that encourage investment when they don't expect it as inherently absurd. Like it is fun to joke about how absurd Kirby lore can be, but it really often comes with an air of disrespect or exhaustion rather than like, appreciation that these games are made by people who want to tell interesting stories when they could easily make as much money just making polished enough fluffy kiddy platformers. And when it's not met with exhaustion, it's met with - like I said before - that tone that it's stupid for a series like this TO have devs who care about writing stuff for it. Which is a whole other thing about people not respecting things made to appeal to kiddie aesthetic or tone.
Maybe the state of low-stakes YouTube video essays just blows cause people play up ignorance and disbelief for engagement, but like I STG I hear people use this tone for like actual narrative based games sometimes. Some people don't like... appreciate when a game is made by people who care a shitton in ways that aren't direct gameplay feedback. And they especially don't appreciate it when it comes from something with any sense of tonal dissonance intentional or not.
Anyways, I love games made by insane people. I love games made by teams who feel like they wanna make something work or say something so bad. I love that energy, especially when invested into something that could easily rest on its laurels or which obviously won't be taken seriously. I love this in a lot of classic campy 2000s games, I love this in insanely niche yet passionate fanworks, and I love it in the Kirby series and its writing. Can we please stop talking about it like it's an annoyance or complete joke?
#shut the heck up#kirby#kirby lore#fandom#midnight rambles#im quite talkative today cause my rambling bestie is busy#im also bitter cause im too burnt out to make the things i want to properly express my adoration for this series#but i can waffle about it ig#ive been relying on prose and essay ro express myself a lot in leiu of my usual creative outlets...#i always wanted to make a video edsay series about kirby lore with this expressed ethos#maybe i should just start with essay-essays somewhere#still need to replay all the games for that first though#more streams coming up eventually i swear#tag talking#i read a cool analytical article today that had the same tone as a video essay and i was like 'ah thats the origin of the essay part'#so now i wanna explore that world more of article game and media journalism and such
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YOU OWE ME - LN
warnings: none, just fluff (inspired by that one CL stream). this is so short pls forgive me
(also, anyone else seen the pics of lando in aus? FERAL for that man.)
“tier 1 sub - max can you tell lando to get off his computer and let me in the flat please im freezing” max reads out, bursting into laughter, “youre in trouble mate.”
max hears a travelling shout of swearing, getting quieter as lando’s headset is thrown to the desk and his entire body hurtling towards the front door.
“shit shit shit shit,” lando shouts, his fingers struggling with the keys left on the inside of the door. finally he manages to unlock the door and pull it open to see his girlfriend, rosy cheeked and a less than impressed expression.
“lando, how many times have i said to take the keys out of the door if you lock it and im not home - especially if youre not going to answer your phone.”
“im sorry baby, im sorry i know - i forgot,” he mumbles, his hands taking yours and bringing them to his face. he flinches slightly at the sheer coldness of your fingers, “do you want a drink? hot chocolate? tea? coffee? it’ll warm you up”
“i’d love a cup of tea,” you smile sadly, shrugging your horribly thin jacket off. honestly, with the typical english winter, your jacket was almost useless in combatting the cold winds anyways. you move to follow lando into the kitchen, watching him fill the kettle and move to grab a mug from the cupboard.
“come here,” you say, opening your arms slightly for lando to move into. he moves to you instantly.
“you’re not angry at me?”
“no, i am. youre just warm” you say, looking up to smile at him. his hands fall to your waist, gripping your hips and hoisting you up to sit on the counter, but he doesn’t move back into your embrace. instead, his arms move to take his hoodie off himself, and pull it over your head.
“better?”
“slightly,” you're still smiling at him as you adjust the hoodie - lando can tell you're not angry at him, just slightly irritated.
“the heating’s on, my office is warm - you wanna go sit in there whilst i finish your tea, angel?” he asks, his hand stroking your cheek, “max is on call if you wanna talk to him for a bit? he’s streaming but you already know that,” he grins, his tongue sticking into the side of his cheek.
“i think max’s chat deserve to know how bad of a boyfriend you are,” you joke, hoisting yourself off the counter, ready to march on in and complain to the stream. lando’s hand catches your arm, spinning you back into his chest. his hand comes back to your cheek, and tilts your head back.
“im sorry baby, you know i am,” he frowns slightly - you reassure him that he is forgiven by pressing a small kiss to his lips. once again you go to move, but he pulls you back in, kissing you again - repeatedly pecking kisses all over your face and eventually your lips. his tongue swipes your bottom lip, begging for more. you pull your head back slightly, desperate to go and rat him out to max but his teeth nip down on your bottom lip again to prolong the connection.
“i don’t think so, lan,” you giggle, smiling up at him again. lando groans and swears you almost skip your way to his office, excited to tell max as he prepares for a night of grovelling.
“max. you’ll never believe this man,” you sigh, after popping lando’s headset on your own head.
“y/n! how are you?”
“freezing, max. and £10 poorer now i’ve had to sub to your twitch to be let into my own flat.”
“oh yeah, thanks for the sub,” max laughs out, looking at the chat, “it’s ok, chat reckon you should invoice lando for the inconvenience.”
“i think i might have to you know, although he’s making me a cup of tea right now and i might be able to pout my way into a takeaway tonight.”
“y/n that man is so whipped i don’t think you need to pout your way into him doing anything for you,” he responds, his emphasis on anything making you grin slightly.
minutes later, lando comes into the room, using his foot to kick the door open in front of him, his hands full with your mug and your lip balm. hang on, lip balm?
“here you go baby,” he says, placing the mug down on the coaster on his desk, “i put honey in it for your throat, and i brought your lip balm ‘cos your lips are dry,” he grins as he hands you the lip balm.
“my lips wouldn’t be dry if you’d answered the phone the first time i rang you,” you say, the eye roll evident in your voice, even to max who couldn’t see your face.
“hang on, y/n, how does he know your lips are dry?” max interrupts, his laugh travelling through the headset.
“because max, when two people love each other very muc-”
“ew stop it,” lando interjects, as he sets up a second set of headphones to join in the chat.
“he’s trying to regain my love with physical affection.”
“i can tell from your tone that it’s not working.”
“well, after that ‘ew’ i think i may have to revoke all physical affection.”
“you wouldn’t,” lando gasps, his hands dramatically clutching his chest.
“order dominoes and ill reconsider. you owe me.”
“yeah lando, and send her £10 to cover the cost of the twitch sub,” max shouts, siding with you, “chat also think you should, as a courtesy.”
you don’t say anything, but turn to look at him, puppy dog eyes and a pout to complete the look.
“fine! fine,” he laughs again, holding his hands up in surrender, “i was going to offer anyways.”
“sure you were,” you and max manage to say simultaneously.
-
an hour later, your food had arrived and your saying goodbye to max and his chat, as lando goes to the door. however, by the time you shuffle into the living room, lando has began setting up netflix, sat next to a mound of blankets he’d brought in from your bedroom.
“hey you, come ‘ere,” he says, leaning his back against the arm of the sofa and tapping the space between his legs. once you were settled, your back resting on his chest, he leans to grab the pizza box on the coffee table in front of you - it went down quickly.
“funny how hungry you get when you’re left shivering in the freezing cold for hours," you think out loud.
“it wasn’t hours and i didn’t do it on purpose y/n,” lando whines, scoffing slightly at the time embellishment, absentmindedly playing with your fingers as he did.
“i know baby, i’m sorry. you’re forgiven,” you start to feel bad for him. he presses a kiss to the top of your head, before manoeuvring you both further down the sofa until he’s laying completely flat, and you roll over so that your head can lay on his chest. the two of you lay in silence for a few moments, the tv still playing quietly in the background, and you feel his chest moving with every breath.
lando's hands wander underneath his your hoodie, and begin to trace small shapes on your skin, making you shiver slightly. then, a thought hits you.
“someone needs to make a compilation of F1 drivers accidentally locking their girlfriends out because they’re streaming,” he laughs as you say it, your whole body shaking from the shuddering of his laughing, "it seems to happen more than you'd think."
“hey! i wasn’t streaming - max was, i was just there. AND! i paid you back, charles never paid his girlfriend back for the sub.”
“oh, aren’t you generous.”
#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris smut#lando x reader#lando smut#lando norris imagine#lando norris fanfic#formula 1#mclaren f1#mclaren#lando norris fluff#propertyofwicked
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Actions have consequences (Simon 'Ghost' Riley X GN Civilian! Spouse! Reader) Part 1
Summary: In a heated argument between the two of you, Simon says something he will regret for the rest of his life.
CW: Simon being an asshole, Swearing, yelling, emotional hurt, heavy angst, car accident, descriptive writing of injury, Character death (?)
Simon truly wanted to be a good husband.
But nothing ever seemed to go smoothly in his life. From his fucked-up childhood, his own demons, to his role as the infamous Ghost. Everything had to eventually come to bite him in the ass.
You, his loving spouse, had always tried to ease his pain in any way that you could. It would vary from cuddling on the couch, to taking him somewhere to lay in the grass and watch the clouds go by. However, he'd been away longer. The world beyond the walls of his cozy home made him more bitter, jaded, and cruel when he returned home.
It was today that he finally snapped.
It was a small disagreement at first, something that had already felt foreign to you. Then it escalated. The both of you kept just kept going back and forth, spitting venom at each other from a supply with an unknown source.
"All I have been trying to do this whole time is make sure that you don't have to deal with the pain alone. I'm only trying to fucking help, Simon!" You yell with hot tears streaming down your face, the grip on your shirt so tight it makes your knuckles turn white.
"Marrying you was a mistake." He snarls. The way your face twists into an expression of pure horror at his words makes him want to take it all back. A choked sob leaves your trembling body as you bolt into the direction of the door. You ignore the frantic calls of your husband as you snatch your jacket and the car keys in one swift motion, not even bothering to look back as you slam the door in his face.
You make your way to the red sports car, unlocking the vehicle before plopping yourself down in the driver's seat. There was no going back now. You start the car, glancing to the side at your shared home with Simon one last time before you hit the gas.
"Fuck…" You whimper while running a hand over your tear-stained face. Simon's words echo through your mind over and over again, the feeling of knives stabbing into your heart becoming more and more evident with each and every loop.
'Marrying you was a mistake.'
Your eyes dart to the side as you catch a flash of bright lights, the booming horn of a truck being the last thing you hear before everything goes dark.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Simon sat on the couch, fingers dinging into his hair, as the tears finally stopped. It had been an hour since you stormed out the door, the look of pure horror on your face branded into his mind like the scars that decorated his body. How could he have said that to you? You, the love of his life, were the only person who had let him feel human in the times he needed it most.
"I'm such a fucking idiot." He scolded himself while smacking the sides of his head. The sound of his phone buzzing on the coffee table was the only thing that brought him out of his self-pity. He reached out to the obnoxious device that tried to get his attention, turning it around to find the word 'unknown' flashing readily on the screen.
Alarm bells began to go off in his brain as he pressed down to answer the call. A sweet elderly voice was greeting him from the other side. "Hello? Is this Mr. Riley? I am calling from the Clementine Churchill Hospital." The moment the word 'hospital' registered in Simon's brain, he immediately froze.
"Sir?" The voice on the other side called again, to which this time he did respond. "Yes, you are speaking to him. Why did you call me?" Deep down, he already knew why. "Your spouse has been in a car accident. Do you have the possibility to come over?"
Simon's heart stopped beating.
The time between him rushing to the hospital and finally reaching your room was all but a blur to him. He now sat at your bedside, tears streaming down his face as he looked at the damage he had caused. You looked so frail, all wrapped up in bandages, with all different types of tubes and machinery hooked up to you.
There was only one thought that crossed Simon's mind at this very moment. It was all his fault.
If he hadn't yelled at you, if he hadn't let you walk out of that door, you would've been cuddled up on the couch together. You would be smiling at him, those beautiful eyes he came to love looking up at him with pure joy when you told him about your day. But you weren't. You were lying here, fighting for your life. All because of him.
"Sweetheart? I don't know if you can hear me… but I-" Simon had to swallow as he felt his world crumble around him. "I'm so sorry, baby. I should've never allowed myself to say something so fucking horrible to you." Hot tears streamed down his face as he reached out to caress your cheek. "Please… please don't go. I can't-I can't lose anyone else." Simon wept as he held onto your hand, his lips brushing against your bandaged knuckles.
"Please…" He kept begging. He was hoping that someone, anyone, would hear his plea not to take you away from him.
#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#ghost x you#ghost x reader#cod x reader#gender neutral reader#no use of y/n#HonourDoesWriting
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x : ABUNDANCE :*+ﾟ
in which: rin doesn’t know when to stop spoiling you and you don't know how to stop him either.
warnings: rich pro-athlete!rin, gn!reader- reader wears lip gloss and perfume but i am an avid believer that they are gn, rin is dramatic (tm), fluff, swearing. 1.6k wc
a/n: rin is a clown in my eyes LMFAO no but this was kinda self-indulgent and i just can't stray too far from itoshi rin before he inevitably pulls me back. haven't written anything for him in a while so it feels good to be back to my roots. also no i'm not off break lol i did say that i was still gonna write and come back to post hehe. ENJOY!! rbs appreciated !!
itoshi rin doesn’t know when to stop spoiling you.
and you didn’t know how to get him to stop spoiling you. you could never resist his presents no matter what shape or size, whether they were little nendoroids of your favourite anime characters to the latest designer bags, you would always accept them with a grateful smile.
however, there’s always a tug of guilt at your chest that makes you little hesitant, not wanting rin to waste unnecessary money on you. yet whenever you make this feeling known to rin, he scoffs and waves your concerns off, ending the conversation there as he urges you to open his presents, more concerned about your reaction than how much money is being extracted from his account.
what’s the point of money if he can’t spoil you with it? that’s always been his philosophy. besides, it’s not like you’re forcing him to, so what’s the big deal?
if there was a certain brand of perfume you wanted, he was going to buy it. if you needed a bigger monitor then he’ll buy it. if you needed a streaming platform to watch a certain show on then he’d buy it too, not a problem. in fact, you’re sure rin is funding the spotify premium for your account because he got tired of all the ads he had to listen to when sharing headphones with you.
despite rin’s insistence that he was more than okay to spend money on you, it didn’t stop the growing feeling of guilt festering in your gut. so eventually you stopped bringing up things you wanted to buy in front of rin, leaving to write them down in your notes app instead.
the pro-athlete doesn’t question the abrupt lack of complaints about things you needed to buy, leaving him blissfully unaware of the things you had been buying for yourself and him.
this dance continues for a little and it’s not until date night three weeks later that he figures you out. you never stood a chance against rin’s perceptiveness especially when one of his favourite things to do was watch you get ready for said date nights, leaving it only a matter of time before he’d realise,
“looking gorgeous as always,” he compliments whilst walking up to stand behind you, dressed handsomely in a crisp suit with his hair swept sideways- a hairstyle he began to wore more often when he realised how often you stared at him during a boring sponsorship event which turned out a lot more eventful thanks to the simple hair change.
you smile at him in the mirror as rin places a kiss on the side of your head, hand going to your hip before situating himself on the bed, glancing down at his watch to check that you were still on time for the dinner reservation.
when he looks back up at you, his eyes zero in on the foreign lipgloss you were holding in your hands and the small smile rin wore falls into a scowl. rin knows he didn’t get that for you, and judging from the sleekness of the packaging, it looks new. he withholds his suspicions, brushing them off.
alarms blare in rin’s head again when he notices the foreign highlighter in your hands. contrarily, you remain ignorant to rin’s inquisitive stare as you lean in close to the mirror to apply the product, too used to the usual intensity of his gaze to bat an eye.
the last straw is the perfume you use, spritzing it on your wrists, behind your ears and neck, doing a little fanning motion with your hands once you were done.
“okay, i’m ready, let’s go before we’re lat-” you say, turning around to look at rin, cutting yourself off when you notice the look of distraught on his face. “what’s the matter?”
walking over to where he sat, you leisurely lay your forearms on his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his cheek whilst doing so. the smell of your foreign perfume enters his nose and although it was a very nice and charming scent, the athlete’s nose scrunches in displeasure, eyebrows furrowing further.
“do i have something on my face?” you ask, backing away. rin grabs your hands before you can stray too far.
“no, not that,” he puts your hands on his shoulders again. “did you always have this lipgloss? and i don’t recognise this perfume.”
“oh, i bought it not too long ago.”
he looks at you as though you’ve committed the most blasphemous offence against him, which, you did. “excuse me?”
“i bought it?” you reaffirm, a lilt of confusion in your tone.
rin narrows his eyes, combating your confusion with scrutiny. “you bought it.” you nod. “with your own money?”
“duh.”
he exhales loudly through his nose and you can feel the judgement oozing off him. “no that’s not right. i have to fix this.”
abruptly swapping your positions so that you were now sitting on the bed, rin disappears into the bathroom, emerging with a pack of makeup removers before sifting through your numerous products, that look of concentration never leaving his face.
“we’re gonna be late, rin,” you say from where he planted you, watching helplessly as your boyfriend approaches to stand in front of you, crouching down to be eye level with you. rin takes out a wipe from the packet before gently rubbing it on your lips, touch contrastingly gentle to his fiery gaze.
“don’t care. this is more important.”
rin fiddles with the highlighter that he bought for you, opening it cautiously and using the same brush you always use as he carefully paints your skin with the glitter. it amazes you just how observant rin is as he traces all the spots correctly, knowing you down to of the most insignificant, tiny details.
he does the same with the lip gloss, opening the familiar bottle before putting a luxurious amount of the product over your lips. you don’t complain about it, not when rin’s nose scrunches in concentration and not when he makes a disgruntled noise because he overlined the lip gloss, wiping it from the corner of your mouth.
nevertheless, when rin pulls away, he admires his handiwork with a content grin, the scowl now fading. “much better,” he mumbles, grinning slightly. before you could say anything though, the athlete stumbles away to put your makeup away, returning with a bottle of perfume that he also bought for you.
“do not spray that on me. the scents will clash,” you threaten. rin blinks at you before grabbing your wrist, spritzing a small amount before repeating the same step on your other pulse points.
his actions were sweet and you understood that rin had good intentions, but through the endearment you felt for your lover, there is an undeniable feeling of dejection settling within you. “i liked the products that i bought,” you murmur, tone slightly downcast as you express your thoughts. “i like using my own money sometimes too, rin.”
the smile rin wore falls ever so slightly as he looks at your somewhat-dejected form, crouching in front of you instinctively as to get a better glance at your face.
“i feel horrible whenever you use your money on me. especially on things that are way too expensive and way out of my budget. i don’t want people- i don’t want you to get the wrong idea of us,” you confess the last part breathily, rubbing your arms awkwardly. “and i hate feeling like i owe something to you.”
“hey, you know that will never happen, we’re not like that,” he rubs a hand on your knee reassuringly. “i buy things for you because i know, and don’t talk about this lukewarm shit about ‘owing’ me. if anything i owe you for putting up with me.”
you let his words sink in with a sigh, focusing on the warmth of rin’s palm.
“and i also buy things for you because you only deserve the best. none of that mediocre crap that anybody can buy.”
“but what if i like the ‘lukewarm shit’?”
“then you need better tastes, but i guess i have no choice but to buy it for you.” he stands up ever so slightly to kiss you.
you back away, cutting him off with a press of your finger against his lips. “rin. no.”
he gives you a withering glare for denying his affection.
“that’s not the point. as much as i love and appreciate it when you do buy things for me, i would also appreciate it if you let me use my own money too.”
the soccer player backs away, eyes scanning your expression to decide on what to say next. he sighs when he sees the determination in your face and like a dam giving out, it’s the first sign of rin’s stubbornness surrendering to your pleas. “fine, i’ll respect your choice, but it doesn’t mean that i like it.”
you grin, pulling him back in for the kiss he wanted earlier, catching rin off guard briefly before his shock subsides, letting him melt right into you. your lipgloss was now effectively ruined but you didn’t have it in you to care much. rin could always reapply it for you.
“but i’m paying for dinner,” he asserts against your mouth.
“deal.”
you return home tomorrow to see the same products you bought for yourself on your shared bed. except brand new and still in their sleek packages.
what were you going to do with rin?
#personally i'm abt to make out with him- what... who said that... anyways... hope u enjoyed !!#sorry if this fic isn't coherent#itoshi rin x reader#rin x reader#rin itoshi x reader#blue lock x reader#bllk x reader#itoshi rin fluff#blue lock fluff#itoshi rin x you#rin x you#rin itoshi x you#blue lock rin#itoshi x reader#blue lock itoshi rin#itoshi rin drabble#itoshi rin#itoshi rin bllk#blue lock
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oh, you didn't know?
“I was told there’d be cookies.” Dustin interrupted, flashing Steve another smug grin that made the teen want to shove him into a snowbank.
“Yeah, for her.” Steve pointed at you. “Not for you.”
Summary: steve is pathetically in love with you and for some reason the universe hates him and continues to pray on his downfall. typical.
Rating: general, some swearing
Warnings: swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n
Words: 1.6k
Before you swing in: happy valentines day my loves <333 youre all my valentines, i didnt make the rules. anyways, pls enjoy this cute cheesy fic. dont ask how i thought of this: i simply do not know. however, its pathetic!loverboy!steve and i think we ALL deserve that today smh.
-
Steve has never had the best timing.
When he first manned up to ask you out, it had coincidentally been the same day your childhood dog died.
There he had been, flowers in hand and a proud smile on his face when he knocked on your front door, completely taken aback when you answered with tears streaming down your face.
Immediately, Steve’s smile had dropped and he quickly pulled you close to inspect for any injuries or pain. “Y/N? What happened, is everything okay?”
“My dog died.” You wailed, even more tears spilling over.
“Oh my god–”
“He… He didn’t suffer. He was old and–” You had sniffed, looking so small and frail in your heartbreak, before spotting the flowers in Steve’s hand. You gasped. “H–How did you know?”
Steve had been confused for a moment, but when he followed your gaze to the flowers that were originally meant to be “please be my girlfriend” flowers, his heart dropped.
Well fuck.
“Yes…” He cleared his throat. “I, uh. Had a hunch?”
You threw your arms around Steve, the flowers then crushed between you two, but he hadn't paid any attention to them as he wrapped his arms tightly around you. After a few seconds, you placed your lips by his ear and whispered, “You’re the sweetest.”
The sincerity in your voice had made Steve want to vomit.
He hadn’t had a hunch that your childhood dog would die that day, but what else was he supposed to say? Hey, sorry your dog died, do you want to kiss now? Absolutely not.
Steve is many things, and oftentimes he is an idiot, but he isn’t that much of an idiot.
So, instead of asking you to be his girlfriend, Steve had instead spent the next three hours at your house as he consoled you and watched your favorite movie to cheer you up. While it hadn’t been his ideal outcome, Steve had still been happy to simply spend time with you. Besides, you had needed him at that moment, so of course Steve was right there by your side.
Life moved on, a few weeks passed, and eventually Steve decided to try again.
You had no more animals to possibly lose, Christmas was approaching, and Steve was determined that this time he’d be able to ask you out.
After buying you some chocolate and planning a fort building night on Christmas Eve, Steve had been sure that the night would go perfectly. There was a beautiful rose pendant bracelet sitting atop of his dresser in his room, wrapped and ready for you to open.
Steve’s plan was foolproof.
Build a fort, watch a cheesy Christmas movie, bake some cookies and drink hot chocolate, and then boom: Steve would ask you to be his girlfriend.
However, Steve really should’ve known better.
His parents had left that day and he had spent the entire time cleaning the house and preparing all the snacks before your arrival. At six on the dot, his doorbell rang and Steve eagerly ran over to answer the door.
There, standing on his front doorstep, had been you with a smug looking Dustin Henderson.
“What’s the kid doing here?” Steve had asked, all his hope now coming crashing down upon him.
You winced. “I know we made plans, I’m so sorry, but his mom asked me to babysit him and she offered me the rest of the money I need for your Christmas gift and–”
“I was told there’d be cookies.” Dustin interrupted, flashing Steve another smug grin that made the teen want to shove him into a snowbank.
“Yeah, for her.” Steve pointed at you. “Not for you.”
“Stevie, I promise I’ll make it up to you later.” You groaned at him, and Steve knew you hated disappointing him. “Can we please just come inside? It’s cold and I was really excited for the fort.”
There are many times when Steve wonders just how he manages to get himself into obscure situations. That night, when he had Dustin Henderson wedged between you and him underneath a super romantic and cute fort that he had spent hours building, had been one of those times where Steve questioned his entire life.
At that point, Steve was starting to wonder if he’d ever manage to ask you out in the first place.
A few more weeks passed after that and you were still his best friend and nothing had changed between you two, but now Steve found himself constantly biting his tongue around you. He was so fucking in love with you, he had been for years, but after two failed attempts of confessing his feelings: it was becoming impossible to hold them in.
Then, late January, your birthday came along.
This time, Steve was sure that he had it all figured out.
You had wanted to grab some dinner at the local diner you loved, and Steve thought that a small, toned down proposal to date would be perfect. He’d give you your birthday gift (a matching set of earrings for the rose bracelet you now wore every day), he’d order you the strawberry shortcake you adored, and when you weren’t looking, Steve would ask the waitress to write “happy birthday, my love” on the cake.
Steve was a goddamn romantic genius, honestly.
Except that isn’t what happened.
What actually ended up happening was the waitress somehow hearing “my love” as “Milo” and Steve had wanted to bash his fucking skull in.
“Who’s ‘Milo’?” You had asked once the cake came out, confusion evident on your face.
Steve, now used to nothing ever working out in his favor, had simply sighed and said, “Who knows, man. Just eat your cake.”
You had giggled, and the sound was enough to cheer Steve up a bit. Sure, it was looking more and more like the world didn’t want you with him, but at least he got to hear your laugh and admire the way your eyes shined whenever you looked at him.
Now, a few weeks later, it’s Valentine’s Day and Steve is terrified that he will somehow set your house on fire with his horrible luck.
He has spent the last two months trying to ask you out. Now, on the day of love itself, Steve is almost too terrified to even approach you. At the rate he’s going, if he tries to ask you out again, he’ll end up telling you he hates you or something.
He’s miserable.
Which is how he finds himself once again outside your door, except there’s no flowers in his hands, and he knocks.
You guys haven’t made any plans tonight, but it’s Valentine’s Day and Steve is so in love with you that it hurts.
The second his knuckles leave the door, you swing the door wide open and jump into his arms. “Stevie!”
Surprised by such an affectionate reaction, Steve almost falls into the bushes in front of your house. “Woah, hey!”
He steadies the two of you and you simply squeeze him tighter and giggle. You’re in an exceptionally good mood, almost too good of a mood, and Steve’s hands are sweating. He hadn’t exactly come here with a game plan in mind.
“Happy to see me, I take it?” He mumbles into your ear.
“Duh,” you press a kiss to his cheek. “It’s Valentine’s Day, why wouldn’t I be excited to see my boyfriend?”
This time, Steve actually does fall into the bush behind him.
“Oh my god,” you run over and quickly try to help the boy up, but Steve is staring up at the night sky, overcome with pure shock and fear. “Stevie? Steve!”
Steve lays there, motionless as you continue to tug at his jacket. “How long have I been your boyfriend, Y/N?”
At his question, you stop tugging and look at him, confused. “I don’t know, honestly. How long has it been since the fourth of July?”
“The fourth?” Steve sputters. “Y/N, it’s Valentine’s Day and I’m just now finding out you’re my girlfriend?”
“Oh, you didn’t know?”
“No!” Steve finally scrambles out of the bushes and grabs your face with his hands. He feels insane, his hands are shaking a bit as he holds onto you. “When did this happen?”
You scrunch your eyebrows together. “On the fourth. We saw the fireworks, cuddled on the picnic blanket you stole from your mom, you grabbed my hand, and then told me you never wanted this to end. I just… I assumed you meant our relationship?”
Steve blinks. “You… You are the love of my life, Y/N L/N.”
“Well, I’d hope so–” Suddenly Steve’s lips are against yours and he’s kissing you with everything he has within him. All those months of pining after you, all the times he’s failed in asking you to be his, and this entire time you had somehow been his all along.
God, he is so stupidly in love with you.
He nips at your bottom lip and you make a sound that’s so soft and sweet in the back of your throat that has Steve’s head spinning. He nips again, revels in the breathy sigh you release against his lips, and Steve’s hand tugs harshly against your waist.
The kiss is perfect and everything he’s ever dreamed of.
Then, a thought occurs to Steve.
“Wait a minute,” he breaks the kiss and your love drunk expression almost makes him groan. He tells himself to focus, even though it’s incredibly difficult to do so. “If we’ve been supposedly dating since July, didn’t you wonder why I hadn’t kissed you yet?”
“Oh, I just thought you were shy.” You shrug, as if it’s no big deal. Then, with a teasing smile, you add, “And I guess I love you too.”
Steve decides, then and there, that you will be the death of him.
And he couldn’t be any happier as he pulls you in again for another bruising kiss.
Afterall, Steve has about seven months to make up for lost time.
-
⌑ writing masterlist
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington x fem#stranger things#m's writing#fluff#valentines day#enjoyyyyyy <3#mans just wants a gf#bless him
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MOVES
aka good things take time (the happy ending version)
word count: 11.3k
i first started writing this because i’ve been listening to the song Moves by Suki Waterhouse on repeat, but it became much more than that
contents: long time best friend!haechan, slice of life, pining and yearning, chronological time jumps (mostly college and young adulthood), other members mentioned (Mark and Jeno!roommates), kissing, fluff, wet dreams, a good example of two people who seriously need to communicate, face sitting, morning sex, lots of pet names
“Do you think we’ll be friends for a long time?” Haechan’s soft voice distracts your attempt to focus on a blade of the blurry ceiling fan, unable to keep you cool despite it spinning so fast you think it might fly away.
“How do you mean?” the bed squeaks when Haechan sits up to lean over you.
“Growing up, I feel like my parents didn’t have many friends aside from each other. My mom told me that it’s because when you get older your priorities change and you realize who adds value to your life, and that’s who you decide to keep.” His eyes are glowing with sincerity, body blocking the flow of air from touching you at all “so when we’re older, and married with kids and other priorities, and we maybe live in different cities, do you think we’ll still be friends?”
You stare at him for a moment before shoving his face out of the way of the fans air stream.
“Definitely,” your confidence soothes him enough that he lays back down “if I ever muster up the creativity to come up with a reason to stop being your friend, you have to swear you’ll tell me how stupid I’m being, swear to me.” you smack his chest before he can even answer.
“I swear!” He smiles to himself, staring up at the ceiling with you, rubbing his hand over the warm spot where your hand made contact, melting into the mattress.
———
Growing up people always joked that Haechan and you would fall in love, that it was inevitable, practical even. Because, if you fall in love with your best friend you’ve already conquered one of the highest mountains - finding someone that you like, and who likes you back.
You had both seen the other in a relationship, an inevitability when you’ve been friends with someone since puberty. He’d cheered you on when you had your first kiss during a game of spin the bottle in high school, forced you to come out on double dates with him and a friend of his you didn’t even like just so he could take someone else out, and freshman year of college he’d even introduced you to the person you'd lost your virginity to.
The only time he cockblocked you was when you tried to get to know any of his friends more than platonically, so eventually you gave up and settled for real friendship with all of them.
“Trust me, you don’t want to touch him with a six foot pole.” He’d said freshman year when you had mentioned your attraction to his roommate, Mark.
“He seems so nice, though.” you pouted
“He is nice, but that doesn’t mean you want to be with him.”
“How would you know what I want?” you scoffed, and he looked at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Has the wind beneath my wings ever led you into the wrong arms?” He was highly animated, offended that you would question his judgment.
By the start of sophomore year it was obvious to everyone else that you were strictly off limits. All of his friends had decided unanimously that even if you did attempt anything with them they had no choice but to shut you down. The cold stare Haechan unknowingly serves them from across the room whenever they got too close was enough to keep them away. None of the boys ever minded the boundaries with you, there always was an ease in your friendship since they all knew it could never go further, but that didn’t mean they never thought about the possibility.
One night, at the end of junior year, Haechan is nowhere to be found at his own party and you graciously accept Jeno’s invitation upstairs when you complain of a headache, “we can play Mario Kart, and it won’t be all competitive like when Haechan plays with us.”
It starts like normal, and you're having fun when you realize that your tipsy brain can’t focus on the screen and the conversation simultaneously, opting for the latter as you relax into Jeno’s pillows. You don’t even notice him inching closer to you until his nose touches yours, tugging at a strand of your hair. This is the first time any of Haechan’s friends have shown interest in you, you’d never even been on the receiving end of a flirtatious stare from across the beer pong table, so you take the reins.
Kissing Jeno feels a little bit like winning, like you’ve finally made it past the invisible forcefield Haechan had put up around his friends. The kiss is lazy and hot, Jeno props himself up on one elbow and presses your back into the mattress with his chest. Your eager fingers run beneath his shirt, his abs tightening when you trail them over his sides. Your spine tingles when he groans into your mouth, the hand on your cheek moving to grip your knee and hike your leg over his hip. His hand holds strong around your thigh, and you sigh when he grinds into you.
Jeno pulls away too soon, stopping your hands reaching for the hem of his shirt with a pained sigh as he drops your leg to roll onto his back, flinging an arm over his eyes.
“Fuck, I should not be doing this with you.”
“Why, you don’t want to?” You want to curl into yourself, sitting up to stare down at his shaking head.
“No, definitely not that.” he pulls his arm away to meet your eyes, the alcohol in his veins making him brave enough to admit “Haechan would be pissed.”
“Haechan?” you question “did he say something to you?” Jeno groans, sitting up and hooking his elbows around his knees, staring at the mattress between his legs.
“No, no. He’s never actually said anything,” he knows he’s revealing too much, but he also knows he’s gone too far to stop “we just know he would never want us to cross that line with you.”
“We?” you can feel embarrassment bubbling in your chest at the idea of all of your friends talking about this.
“Yeah, you know, all the guys. We figured you were just off limits, I don’t know.” he grimaces, looking up at you with apologetic eyes when you don’t respond. You huff and climb off the bed, feeling rejected in more ways than one.
You’d crossed a boundary tonight, but Jeno was still a close friend, someone you’d spent a lot of time with since he met Haechan freshman year. He still knows you, so he grabs your wrist before you can leave, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed so he can stand you between his legs.
“I’m sorry, don’t be mad.” He envelops your hands in his and brings them to his chest.
“I’m not mad,” you mumble, avoiding his apologetic gaze “I’m embarrassed that all of my friends agreed not to touch me.”
“Did you really think not a single one of us was ever interested in you?” you shrug and he squeezes your hands tighter, heart tugging in his chest.
“When people don’t act interested, that’s usually a safe assumption.” you pout and Jeno’s laugh buzzes through your linked fingers "I gave up on all of you halfway through freshman year."
“Well, some of us are better actors than I remember.”
He has you laughing by the time you leave his room, sealing the night with one more self indulgent kiss and a pinky swear to never tell Haechan about what happened.
———
Halfway through the first semester of senior year Haechan bangs angrily on his roommates door before swinging it open and Jeno is genuinely shocked that it's taken this long for the gossip to hit his ears. The rest of the boys had clocked Jeno the next morning for being ‘too happy’ and he had to make them all swear not to tell, wanting to protect your pride and his own friendship with Haechan.
"You slut!" Haechan points an accusatory finger in Jeno's direction, dragging his feet slowly toward him until he's so close Jeno has to bat his hand out of his face.
"What are you talking about?"
"Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about." Haechan's voice is low and angry, something new and unpleasant sparking in his gut at the idea of Jeno kissing you, touching you.
"No, I don't." Jeno can’t help but antagonize. Pleased with the perfect opportunity to trick Haechan into saying out loud what everyone else seems to have known for years.
"You kissed my best friend!" He shrieks, tossing his hands up in the air dramatically.
"So what, she's not allowed to kiss people?" Haechan squints his eyes at Jeno’s response, scrunching his nose in annoyance “how did you even find out?”
"She can kiss whoever she wants, it's all of you that aren't allowed to kiss her." Haechan waves his hand wildly toward the bedroom door, alluding to the large group of boys living in the house “you know Mark can’t keep a secret, he’s been bursting at the seams for months. All I had to do was ask.”
"It happened forever ago dude, why are you so pissed? You've never even given us a chance to get close to her in that way, maybe one of us could really like her." Jeno reasons, tugging at Haechan's strings, watching the gears in his brain turn as he tries to come up with a real argument.
"She has a boyfriend," Haechan finally says with a frown at the thought of the guy he’d only recently met, he doesn’t like him at all. From his stupid hair to the shoes he wears, there’s not a thing about your new boyfriend that Haechan thinks is good enough for you. He collapses into the gaming chair across from where Jeno is relaxed on the couch, not having moved at all since Haechan stormed in "plus, I think any of you would know by now, you've all known her for four years."
"I think, that it can take a lot longer than four years to realize how much you like someone." Jeno bites, "how long have you known her?"
"Since middle school." He picks at the hole in the knee of his black jeans, realizing what Jeno is alluding to, defensive exterior quickly crumbling.
"Right, I think that if you're blind enough then it can take ten years to realize how much you like someone."
"Well, maybe ten years is too long and that person missed their chance." Haechan turns his head to stare out the window, anxiously spinning the chair side to side.
"You know I'm talking about you, right?"
"God, yes, I know you're talking about me." Haechan glares at his friend, fidgeting stopping abruptly "and I know I've been a complete idiot about it, but like I said, I’m out of time."
———
Haechan can’t stop his free hand from clenching and unclenching as you sob into your pillow, his less angry hand rubbing over your back.
“He told me he saw us moving in together after graduation,” your voice shakes “how do you look someone in the eyes and say shit like that and then sleep with someone else?”
“I don’t know,” Haechan replies earnestly, feeling as helpful as flip flops in the snow from where he sits on the edge of your mattress “I’m so sorry.”
He takes your silence as an invitation, lying on his stomach, face turned toward you, fingers still drawing soothing circles over your shoulder blades. He waits patiently for you to calm down, unease swarming his stomach knowing that even after years of friendship he can’t truly comfort you in this moment.
“I’m so embarrassed.” you sniffle, smearing your face over your pillow before turning to look at him. He holds his breath, waiting for you to collect yourself enough to explain.
“I’m so gullible, he even told me he’s cheated in the past and for whatever reason I believed that he’d treat me differently, that he’d love me enough.” Haechan has to count to five in his head to stay calm before he speaks.
“You have no reason to be embarrassed. The most natural thing you can do is believe someone when they say they love you.” He murmurs, turning onto his side so he can pull you into a hug. When you curl into his body to bury your face in his chest he can only pray you can’t hear his heart pound against his ribs.
“He’s an idiot, and he didn’t deserve any of the love you gave him. I promise, you’re so much better off.”
Haechan hates the piece of himself that’s relieved your relationship has ended. The same piece that hated your ex the minute he met him, that feels heavy in your absence whenever you’re busy with anyone who isn’t him. The piece that crosses it’s fingers whenever you get this close in hopes that you’ll be the first one to cross the line, to finally do what he’s thought about doing for the last few months since he realized exactly how he felt about you.
“Thank you,” you mumble into his tear dampened shirt, lifting your leg over his to cuddle in even closer “thanks for always being my friend, even when I do dumb shit, like let boys be mean to me.”
He nuzzles his nose into your scalp, eyes fluttering shut at the smell of your shampoo “Thanks for letting me. Besides, even Beyoncé got cheated on, so you clearly aren’t that dumb.” the crowd in his brain cheers when you giggle into his chest.
“You’re so annoying.” He holds you even tighter.
———
“I can’t believe it,” your jaw drops and Haechan whips his head up nervously to look at you from across the couch
“What happened?”
“I got it, I got the job!” you shove his feet off your lap to jump up excitedly, bouncing on your toes as you read the email out loud. Haechan’s ears are ringing so loud he barely catches the first half, trying to shake off the dazed look he’s sure appears on his face.
“We were extremely impressed with your resume and even more so with the impression you left on the board during your interview, blah blah blah, excited to offer you this position, blah blah blah, and a relocation bonus to join us in in our new office!” the pitch of your voice rises a few octaves as you finish reading.
Haechan stares at you from his spot on the couch, eyes wide with shock that you’re too excited to notice, skimming your screen as you re-read the details in your offer letter.
His entire body is buzzing, torn between feeling excited at your accomplishment and sorry for himself.
He had a plan, a really good one, he thought. After your breakup you’d made it painfully clear that you wanted to be single for a while, and he knew if he could just be patient, it would all be worth it. So Haechan decided to bottle his feelings up, sitting patiently by your side where he had been for so many years, waiting for you to heal and hoping that when you were finally ready to start dating again he’d have mustered up the courage to make the first move.
“Lee Donghyuck, are you even listening to me!?” you drop your phone to pull him up off the couch, bouncing up and down with your fingers intertwined “I’m moving to my dream city, to start my dream job.” you reiterate and he snaps out of it, sweeping the imaginary shards of glass that his plan had been made out of under the rug and pulling you into a hug.
“That’s amazing, I’m so proud of you.”
“Your enthusiasm is overwhelming.” You deadpan, but squeeze him back just as tight.
“I’m sorry, I’m going to miss you is all.” He admits, "I'd follow you if my job didn't keep me here."
“I’ll make sure you don’t miss me too much, don’t worry.” you plant your cheek on his chest, surprised at the relief you feel in hearing him say it first.
———
This feeling was still a little unfamiliar, nerves. Haechan had never made you nervous growing up; excited, annoyed, passionate maybe, but never nervous.
The nerves began last summer, when he’d come out to visit you for the first time to celebrate his birthday. It was the longest you’d gone without seeing each other since you’d met, almost ten full months and the anticipation was palpable.
When he steps through the airport doors you think that it’s the relief of finally being near him again that knocks the wind out of you. Running into his open arms and being squeezed so tightly in them that you tap his shoulder to let you breathe. Ruffling his hair when he steps back and ignoring the fact that he had grown so much since you’d seen him last.
But as the night goes on, the slight changes to the person you have memorized become glaringly obvious. The way his cheeks have lost some of their cushion, revealing a sharp jaw and pointed cheekbones. The natural wave in his once unruly hair now falling perfectly over his brow bone, he had dyed it a little darker which made his tan skin glow even in dim lighting. Even his smell seemed to draw you into a trance, a much more expensive version of the Haechan you know.
“You know, that group of girls has been staring over at you since we walked in.” You raise your eyebrows playfully, pointing your glass toward the pretty gaggle that keeps walking past the booth you and Haechan occupy.
He doesn’t break eye contact with you before shrugging, “I didn’t come here to see them, I came to see you.” he smiles, punctuating his thought by reaching over the table and tapping your nose.
“I know, I know,” you laugh, batting him away “It never hurts to know when people are staring, though”
His face is unreadable as he rests his arm lazily up over the bench of the booth, body sinking into the seat while he lifts his glass to swirl his drink, biting the words that have been resting on the tip of his tongue the entire trip, and at the end of every phone call since you started your new job.
“How are you, seriously.” You push. In the time since you moved he’d started and ended a relationship with a girl that you’d never met. Your new job kept you so busy that you hadn’t even learned about the breakup until a week later, when you finally had the time to call him back. The guilt of your absence weighs you down, resenting your inability to be there for him the way he had been for you in the past.
“I’m over it, seriously.” You know he’s telling the truth, but it’s in your nature to pry.
“You never really talked about, why, you know.”
“Do I have to?”
“No, I’m sorry, I just feel so behind on your life.” You sigh and push your empty glass to the side, swirling your finger in the ring of cold water it leaves behind.
“It’s okay, really. You’ve been busy, I understand.” He reaches across the table to stop your anxious fingers “I didn’t love her the way I knew I should, that’s all. It’s a good thing that it ended, and I’m happy that it did.”
“That’s all that matters, then.” and he’s grateful that you drop the subject.
You eventually get back to your apartment, both giggly and flush from the alcohol still fogging your brain despite the long walk you'd hoped would lessen it. Haechan holds your hand the whole way back, even when he stops suddenly to pet a dog, dragging you down to the ground with him. He can’t help himself, grateful that at this point you'd touched one another in every way other than what he dreams about most, and you seem oblivious to his need to be so close to you.
As you get ready for bed he lets himself watch you undress facing the wall away from him, unaware of his gaze burning into your backside and the way his fingers tingle at the thought of pulling at the meat of your hips. He scolds his heart for thudding so loud when you squeeze your eyes into a smile at his reflection standing next to yours at the sink while you brush your teeth, the domestication of your friendship that he used to appreciate now suffocating him.
You put on a movie and invite him to rest his head on the pillow in your lap, wishing he could bury his nose into the skin of your thighs beneath it. Halfway through the movie he has to sit up to hide the way his cock is hardening at the feeling of your nails combing through his hair and down his shoulder, occasionally thrumming over his chest. He pulls a blanket off the back of the couch and tosses it over his legs as casually as possible, pulling you into his side by your shoulder, the other arm stretched across the back of the couch.
"Are you cold for the first time in your life?" Haechan never wants to use a blanket, but you’re grateful for the position giving you access to bury your face into his chest, gripping his shirt.
"No, just want to be warmer." he presses a blushing cheek onto the top of your head, trying to think of anything except the way your hair smells, or the feeling of the side of your breast brushing his wrist through your shirt. Haechan feels eighteen again and like he's discovering the connection between romantic and sexual feelings for the first time in his life. He tries to match his breathing to yours, holding his breath whenever you shift in his hold and reconnecting his stomach with your back as quickly as possible. The temptation to pour his heart out is overwhelming, but when he feels your body completely relax into his and your breathing slow down, the words become trapped in his throat, so he lets you sleep.
Haechan had never experienced a shorter 48 hours than that weekend he spent following you around the city you now call home.
You’re shining in your new space, and he happily trails behind you to all the places you’ve discovered in the almost year since you moved. His stomach does somersaults whenever you point something out that reminds you of him.
“I’ve been waiting to come here until you could come with me!” you're so excited to take him to the video game themed coffee shop that your co-workers had recommended “I thought about coming to see if it was even worth it, but I only want to play these kinds of games with you anyway.”
Sometimes he can forget about his feelings for you, when things are just as they always have been. You talk with and touch him the same, laugh at his jokes the same. He thinks that if he were to ever say out loud what he’s been feeling, that the two of you would still be the same but with a little More, ‘you guys’ but on steroids. So when everything is normal he can pretend like it‘a not. He can act like the More is there when you hold his hand to drag him around to the different machines, play games he wants to play even if you don’t want to, you even wipe ice cream off of his chin when his cone starts to melt because he’s talking too much to eat and he wonders why it took him so long to see it this way, and if you could too.
He keeps thinking the moment will come, when he’ll know spilling his guts to you is the right thing to do. But between you gushing over how much you love your new life and your willingness to point out every girl who has blinked at him this weekend, he completely loses the steam he’d gained during his flight, regardless of how his imagination runs wild with the More.
He curses himself the entire weekend for his lack of bravery, hoping that keeping his feelings in is the right decision. After his recent relationship crashed and burned because of his feelings for you he thought he had no choice but to come clean. But watching you, being with you in your new life makes him realize that his role in it hasn’t changed even if his feelings for you have.
The lump in his throat as he stands outside the departure doors is more than just sadness at the thought of leaving you, it’s the realization that he has to let the romantic idea of you go.
“How come you never cry when we have to leave each other,” you hiccup into his chest, and he coos your name lovingly.
“Don’t worry, you know I save my tears for the plane to make everyone in my row uncomfortable.” He knows that you hate that he’s making you laugh at a time like this, pulling away so you can swat his chest and he raises his hands in surrender.
“When will we be able to see each other again?”
“As soon as possible.” He nods reassuringly, wiping your tears with his thumb, heart pounding as he stares into your watering eyes “hey, you’re my best friend in the world, you annoy me every day, and I love you.”
“Whatever, I love you too.” you laugh, but his heart speeds up at the words that you’ve said to him thousands of times. You sweep your arms around him one last time before pushing him toward the airport doors “you better go, if you miss your flight I can’t guarantee I’ll let you leave at all.”
“Don’t tempt me.” He walks backwards slowly, staring at you with a ‘kicked puppy’ kind of face he mastered years ago and you wave enthusiastically, blowing loud kisses into the air that he catches and clutches to his heart.
“This is it,” he thinks, “this has to be it.”
———
Haechan is dreaming about you. He has been nightly ever since he got back from his birthday weekend. He’s grateful the dreams have variety, since some of them overwhelm him to the point of waking up and not being able to fall back asleep.
Sometimes, you’re young again and whenever anyone says “You know, it’s just a matter of time until one of you has a crush on the other.” you both theatrically gag, laughing at each other as if it were the most insane idea in the world. Or, you're sitting on his childhood couch watching your guys' favorite movie for the hundredth weekend in a row, vocalizing the parts of the two main characters and recreating all the best scenes.
Sometimes you’re at his apartment just hanging out together, which are dreams that feel so real he almost expects to see you in his kitchen when he wakes up. Most of these dreams spark a deja vu laced flame in his gut so deep he finds himself confusing them with memories. The ache of missing you wakes him up before his alarm some mornings, and he finds himself face timing you once he knows you're awake just to watch you make coffee and wash your face.
But sometimes, he has dreams that make him feel so ashamed he can barely text you back in the morning. Dreams where he reaches to touch you and you let him, where you tug at his hair and moan his name while he does all the things that he can only do to you in his sleep. He hates to say that these are his favorite, but it's the one dream he knows he'll never actually achieve and he goes to bed every night praying for them.
That’s the kind of dream he’s having when his phone buzzes him awake. He answers without looking because there are only a handful of people who can reach him when he’s on ‘do not disturb’, and you’re one of them. He hums a sleepy greeting into his phone, putting it on speaker next to his pillow and nearly drifting right back into the dream and between your thighs.
“Donghyuck” his eyes shoot open at the sound of your voice “did i wake you up?”
He can practically hear the pout in your voice, squinting at the time on his phone, “Yes, it’s three in the morning,” he stares down to where he’s half hard, running an embarrassed hand over his face even though there’s no possible way for you to know “are you okay?”
“No, well technically yes but I miss you which means things could be better.” you slur your words and Haechan smiles, somehow he's never annoyed that you call him pretty much every time you drink. He thinks it's because he's familiar with this version of you, though he definitely hasn't seen it often since college graduation. This version of you loves him hard, and is never afraid to say it.
"I miss you too," he takes a beat before adding "I was dreaming about you just now."
You gasp excitedly "Really! What were we doing." He smirks at the thought of telling you that you had been sitting on his face, hand reaching back for his cock while he guides your cunt over his tongue until you were shaking above him.
"Just, hanging out." he shrugs. It's his second time this week alone dreaming of your clit bumping his nose, and the thought makes his mouth water.
"I don't believe you." You say accusingly "that's way too boring for a mind like yours to dream up."
"What exactly is my mind like?" He yawns, throwing his forearm over his eyes.
"Oh, you know," you hum "your mind is a galaxy, with at least a billion planets and twice as many stars. I wish I could fly into your head and explore it, but NASA doesn't have the funds."
Haechan holds his breath at your compliment, the smile on his face so wide he can hear it in his own voice "That sounds like an episode of Magic School Bus."
"Your brain is definitely cooler than some cartoon, it's pretty much my favorite place on Earth."
"How would you know, you've never actually been inside?" He shakes his head, teasing you gently. Hearing words like these come out of your mouth breaks his heart and glues it back together at the same time.
"Are you saying you never think about me?" you ask him, not an ounce of sarcasm in your voice.
"I think about you all the time, I promise, all the planets in my brain are shaped like you." You hum, pleased with his response. He shuts his eyes and waits for your answer.
"Yeah, all the planets in mine are shaped like you, too." you pause for a second and add "plus all the stars, I win, I think about you more."
———
This time when Haechan comes to visit you, you know the nerves are more than just excitement at seeing your best friend. It’s a feeling that is nestled so deep in your stomach it makes you a little nauseous. You haven't seen him since you went home for the holidays and he only has one night in the city. You find yourself grueling over your reflection in the mirror, not used to being self conscious in front of him. You’re only going out for happy hour, but you put yourself together to last all night.
When Haechan finally arrives he whistles lowly, making you blush when he pulls out of your hug and requests a spin.
“I appreciate that you got so dressed up for me.” He teases, hoping you don’t catch his eyes sweeping over your legs, wanting to commit you in this dress to memory.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” you roll your eyes as if you hadn’t spent the last two hours making sure you looked as perfect as possible. Hoping he doesn’t see the pile of clothes shoved into your closet from all the failed attempts.
“Never,” he grabs your purse off of the counter and opens the door, sweeping his arm out in front of him dramatically “after you. There are some strangers outside who are waiting to catch a glimpse of you, they just don’t know it yet.”
“You are so dramatic.” You lock the door behind you, using the moment facing away from him to collect yourself. Lately you catch yourself wondering if he'd always been so flirtatious, or if you're just forcing meaning behind his words because of how badly you want him to be.
“What, a guy can’t compliment his best friend?”
You smile widely at him and grab your bag out of his grasp, popping your key inside and walking toward the entrance of your building. Praying your fingers stop shaking when you finally get a drink in you. Haechan throws his arm around your shoulders while you walk down the street to your favorite cocktail bar and you're grateful for his usual chatter, talking to you about work and his slow climb up the ladder.
“They put me in a hotel this time, so you don’t have to worry about making me breakfast in the morning.” He smiles at you, sipping his drink gingerly.
“You know I never cook you breakfast.” He feels so far away across the table and you wish that you were sitting next to him instead, shoulders cold without the weight of his arm around them. It feels so good to have him touch you, to feel like you're his. There's a small part of you that feels guilty for using his knack for physical affection to your advantage, he has no idea what the heat of his skin on yours does.
“I know, but all the meetings are in the hotel anyway so it’s easier this time to just stay there.”
You try not to let yourself visibly deflate at the news, wanting to keep him for yourself the whole time he’s in town. His knee presses against yours under the table and you focus all your energy into acting the way you would have before, but you can’t focus on anything else and cross your legs to pull away from him as casually as possible. As badly as you want to touch him, sometimes you can’t.
“What time do you have to be up?”
He groans, leaning back enough that his knee now slides against your shin, “too early,” and glances down at his now empty glass, motioning to the bartender for another “which means you need to drink faster, so I can stop at a reasonable hour.”
You smile, downing the rest of your drink in one gulp, when his foot taps against yours you know it's going to be a long night.
The end of the night finds you together on your couch with a shared bottle of wine sitting empty on the coffee table, his early meetings temporarily forgotten. You and Haechan have been in this position plenty of times, drunk, slap happy and overly touchy in a way that you had always been comfortable being with one another. The difference now is you, this version of you who wants your best friend in an entirely different way.
Every time he pulls you closer you feel electricity shoot straight to your heart so intensely that you have to duck out of his grasp. You don’t know what to do with the feelings that have been growing gradually from your toes up, now practically sprouting out of your scalp with a neon sign blinking “I’m in love with you” over and over.
“Why do you keep doing that?” Haechan whines when you all but flinch away from his hand reaching for his phone near your arm. He’d been aware of it all night, the space you left between the two of you while you walked back from the bar, your sudden inability to maintain the eye contact that he craved. The complete lack of physical touch makes him feel dejected.
“Doing what?” You give him a panicked look, practically sober at the thought of being found out, of what it would feel like to be rejected by him.
“You’re not letting me touch you,” he frowns, and the alcohol buzzes through your veins again “not that you need to let me, but you only avoid it like this when you’re upset. Did I do something?” he pouts, tired eyes low when he flops his head onto his bicep resting on the back of the couch. You forget to breathe for a second when he looks up at you under dark lashes.
“I’m not upset. I wasn’t doing it on purpose.” you’re lying through your teeth, but scoot an inch closer to him to make your point. He doesn’t look convinced, and if you’d had less to drink you may have noticed the mischievous glint in his eye before he grabs you by your arm, knocking you off balance and into his chest.
“See,” he sighs happily, wrapping his arms around your body and you can feel his chest buzz when he hums, cheek pressed to the top of your head. You have no choice but to ungracefully shift your lower body closer to him, making yourself a sponge and soaking in his familiar touch “isn’t that better?”
You nod, “Yes, it is better.” and you really wish he didn’t know you so well, that even in his fifth hour of being drunk he can read your mind. He pulls your ear off his heart to grab your cheeks, smushing them together and whispering your name with a shake of his head.
“What is it?” he urges, and you wrap your fingers around his wrist to loosen his grip. You shut your eyes, take a deep breath and count to three in your head before you can talk yourself out of leaning forward and pressing your lips to his.
You feel him falter for a half second before he’s kissing you back, pulling your face closer and pushing his body toward yours. You can’t hear anything over the blood rushing in your ears when his tongue touches yours, and then suddenly his mouth is gone. He moves so quick you have to put your arms out to stop yourself from face planting into the cushion he had just been sitting on.
“Fuck, I’m sorry.” you gasp “i shouldn’t have done that, Haechan, I’m so sorry.”
It takes everything in you to look up to where he’s now standing with his arms crossed over his chest protectively. You have no idea what he’s thinking, staring down at you with wide eyes. Insecurity sweeps through you under his intense gaze, and you almost beg him to say something.
“I’m seeing someone,” the way the confession rings in your ears would have you believing that he screamed the words, but his voice was barely above a whisper “shit, I’m sorry.”
You aren’t sure if it’s your life that flashes before your eyes, or your years of friendship with him, at this point the two tend to blur together.
“That’s-” you sit back on your calves and inhale shakily, knowing it’s not even worth it to attempt to fake any sort of excitement for him “why didn’t you tell me?”
He shrugs, swallowing thickly and pulling his eyes away from your face to stare at the ceiling “It’s new and I didn’t know how. It just never came up.”
“Well then, I’m sorry that it didn’t. I shouldn’t have done that, I don’t know what came over me.” grateful that he’s finally the one avoiding eye contact with you so he doesn’t see your legs wobble when you stand “probably best to pretend that never happened. I’m just drunk and I missed you-”
Your name sounds so pathetic when he says it this time and you think it’s the eighth wonder of the natural world that you haven’t started crying yet. You shake your head instead, wishing so desperately that you had changed out of the dress you were wearing as you pull the slinky material down your thighs.
“Honestly, Haechan,” You regret your next words before they even hit the air “you should probably go. You have an early morning.”
The shock on his face pains you, but you can’t stand to see what you can only assume is pity growing in his eyes for another second.
“I don’t want to go, I want to talk about this.”
“I’m sorry.” you say again and his shoulders slump in defeat, recognizing that you’d made up your mind.
“It’s okay.” He means it, shuffling forward and the look on your face is nearly enough to bring him to his knees. His breath catches when you shift away the inch he moved toward you, eyes locked on his and he can see the desperation in them before he hears it in your voice.
“Text me when you get to the hotel?” your voice cracks with a heavy mix of exhaustion and embarrassment that makes him nods once, grabbing his things and walking slowly toward your door. He turns to look at you, but his words catch in his throat when he sees your eyes begin to water, mustering up all his energy to offer what he prays is a reassuring smile before letting himself out.
You sink back into the couch when the door clicks shut, head hanging in your hands as the tears finally start to flow. You cry so hard you feel like you could throw up, replaying his rejection over and over in your mind, shame and regret coursing through your veins. Pure embarrassment heats your body at the look on his face when he told you he was seeing someone, and you’re not sure if it was disgust or pity in his eyes.
On top of the rejection, knowing that he didn’t feel like he could share something as big as meeting someone with you was a dagger to the heart, up until recently you had never kept a secret from him, and even this one you clearly couldn’t keep in for long.
You force yourself into the shower, scrubbing angrily at your skin under the scalding water. You get out once your fingers have pruned and your skin feels raw, avoiding the mirror on your way to your bedroom. You kick angrily at the dress you'd left on the floor, watching it land near the pile of outfits you had discarded while getting ready.
Haechan had texted you nearly thirty minutes earlier
“made it back”
you give it a thumbs up before turning your phone off, setting an alarm with the clock on your side table and letting the emotional exhaustion lull you to sleep.
------
Haechan is realizing that there is no way in hell that you need space more than he needs to talk to you. He tries to call you multiple times the first week after you kissed him but you never answered, and Haechan doesn’t want to push you to the point of no return. What he really wants is to go back in time and not leave you that night, but the pain in your eyes was so pronounced he couldn't bare to make it any worse. The only physical proof that you had kissed him at all being the stupid blue thumbs up on the text he had sent you that night. It's followed by a slew of reassuring texts, saying that he broke up with his girlfriend and if you would please just talk to him, that he's not mad.
This is the feeling he carries with him nearly two weeks later on the flight to you, when he’s sure that another minute of silence from you will kill him. By the time he gets to your apartment it’s almost midnight, so he knocks loud enough to wake you up.
When you open the door in a shirt he thinks might be his, Haechan knows he has no choice. He's speaking before you can say anything, before he can change his mind.
"I came here to tell you that I think you're being really stupid." He curses internally for the obvious nerves in his voice, your tired eyes widen with shock at his words.
"Excuse me?"
"Years ago you made me swear that I would tell you if you ever came up with a reason not to be my friend anymore. So I'm telling you now, I think you're being really fucking stupid."
"I'm not doing that" You defend yourself, tearing up at the sight of him. He pushes into your apartment, shutting the door behind him and standing close enough to touch. He’s staring you down with pleading eyes, and you bury your face in your hands so you don’t have to look at him.
“Then why are you ignoring me? Why won’t you let me fix this?”
“I don’t know I just,” you inhale shakily “I don't know how to do it right now, not like this."
"Like what?" He hopes he already knows the answer, but needs to hear you say it, to know that you’re as serious as he is. Your mouth feels full of cotton when he forces you to look at him by whispering your name, pulling your hands from your face and his heart pinches tightly at the tears welling in your eyes "please tell me, please. Like what?"
"You already know," your bottom lip betrays you, voice weak beneath heavy emotion when you speak "I love you, Haechan. I'm in love with you, and I don't know what to do about it. I feel like I fucked everything up, but I can’t undo it."
He feels his lungs fill with relief. Haechan steps forward to close the small gap between your bodies, grabbing your jaw to rest his forehead against yours. You falter, but his hand on the small of your back keeps you from going anywhere, he's practically panting and you can barely stand, dizzy with the feeling of him. You want to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming when he whispers "You didn't fuck anything up."
He ghosts his lips over yours for a moment until he's sure you're not going to stop him. When he finally kisses you it's with years of pent up adoration, directing your arms around his neck and pressing his thumb firmly into your jaw, long fingers wrapping around the side of your throat. He practically whines when your fingers tighten in his hair and your lips part for his warm tongue. His arm wraps around your waist so tightly you have to hinge backward to keep your mouths connected, gasping at the strength you didn't know he had.
He keeps your stomach flush to his own and kisses you until you're practically limp in his arms, pulling away to breathe. His eyes are shut as he rubs his nose over yours
"I love you, too. I've been meaning to tell you for a while." All the blood rushes into your ears at his words and you can't stop your biggest worry from spilling into the air.
“What if you change your mind?”
“I made up my mind a long time ago, there's nothing you could do to change it." He blinks his eyes open, pulling his face away from yours just enough to see you, the trepidation in your eyes makes him say your name quietly.
"It's only me, you know me," he assures you in a hushed tone "you have to know by now that you are my entire world."
You could laugh, only him, as if he hasn’t been one of the most important people in your life since the day you met. As if he isn’t someone who has seen you at every stage of it so far. It’s Haechan, who has always been funny, who has witnessed the worst sides of you and never made you feel bad, who has never left your side.
You kiss him again, fingers wrapping in tight fists around his shirt to keep yourself grounded. Haechan’s heart pounds happily in his chest and he hopes you can feel it this time, both hands nestling into your hair. He kisses you gently in an effort to slow down your urgent movements, moaning at the taste of your mouth. You fall into his rhythm easily, the way his tongue rolls gently over yours makes your body go up in flames. You move your hands to slide beneath his shirt, landing on the strong muscles in his back and teasing your fingers up his sides.
When you finally come up for air he stares at you for a minute before laughing, stomach tightening beneath your fingers when he does.
"What's funny?" you shut your eyes, leaning your forehead into his chest, letting the pretty sound ring in your ears.
"Nothing, I'm just-" he cuts himself off with a shrug, nuzzling his nose into the crown of your head "I love you, and you love me back. That's all, that's how easy it is."
"It hasn't been easy at all, in fact my life has been very very hard since your birthday last year.” He pulls away from your head to ogle at you.
"My birthday last year?" You nod, feeling your cheeks flush under his intense gaze, it had really been that long "God, I'm sorry I'm such a fucking idiot."
He's kissing you again before you can ask him to elaborate, grabbing hold of both wrists in one hand while he walks you backward and guides you up onto the counter as slowly as he has to in order to keep his lips on yours. His hips are the perfect height for you to wrap your legs around, gasping in surprise when he slides his hands around your ass and presses your core tightly against the growing bulge in his jeans.
You feel shy when you pull away to ask if he wants to go to your bedroom, feeling frozen in place when he stares at you with half lidded eyes, his plump lips swollen and red.
"Tonight, I'm just kissing you." Every cell in his body is screaming in protest at his own words. He can't express how badly he wants to do everything else, to recreate his dreams, to learn the parts of your body he'd never seen before. But he can't imagine doing anything but this tonight, just this; his lips on yours, your breath in his lungs and your body melting into his.
"Why?” your eyebrows pull together in confusion. You practically shiver with need, tucking your arms between your stomachs and burying your nose in his throat. His laugh buzzes against your face, rubbing his hands gently over your shoulders and trying to control his own breathing as your lips brush over his skin.
All he can say is, “Because I’ve been needing to for a long time.”
“How long?” You pull away from his chest, leaning back onto your hands and closing your eyes when he runs his own down your sternum and over your waist, groping at the flesh of your hips and trying not to regret his romantic side.
“Way too long.”
“Your birthday?” you ask, tugging gently at his shirt. He plants his hands outside of your legs to lean in close, one corner of his mouth pulling up.
“Much longer.” Your eyes widen in shock, and he interrupts you before you can question him “can we talk about it later? I have something really important to do tonight.”
———
He tells you that he's had feelings for you since senior year of college, when you kissed Jeno. He tells you about his plan to admit everything when he had seen you on his birthday, but that he was too scared. He assures you he ended his relationship the moment he got back home the previous week “because everyone has felt like a matter of 'when' it will end, not 'if',” He tells you that just two weeks of your silence hurt worse than any previous heartbreak, and you agree. And before you fell asleep next to him he tells you again, ‘I'm so in love with you.’ and shimmies excitedly when you say it back before kissing you until you can barely keep your eyes open. He holds your cheeks in his hands and practically lulls you to sleep with his tongue, plush lips pressing to yours so gently you can hardly feel them dotting around the rest of your face. He thinks he could do this forever before sleep finally catches up with him, his arm slung over your side to hold your face to his chest.
You wake up curled into a familiar side, your first emotion being giddy as the night floods back to you. Despite your obvious willingness to go further, Haechan had meant it when he said he'd only be kissing you. It made you crazy at first, but when the two of you were staring at each other in the mirror with shy eyes while moving through a nighttime routine you had gotten familiar with years before, you were happy he had the self control you clearly lack. The idea of him actually seeing and touching you in ways he never had before, of doing all the things you'd found yourself imagining him doing over the last year; it was overwhelming. Kissing until your jaw was sore and your lips were swollen felt easy.
You��re startled by Haechan’s hand reaching for yours, holding your palm and bringing your fingers to his lips to press a kiss to each one, “good morning.” his voice is deep and tired, mouth landing on the crown of your head.
"Good morning." You press your nose into his chest happily, gripping his hand in yours and resisting the urge to squeal with delight.
"What are you so excited about, me?" He teases, hand falling on your thigh to guide your leg up the front of his, stopping just below his crotch and you hope he's going to give you what you'd been wanting all night, for the last year.
"You, I just can't believe how happy I am." You admit, lifting your head off of his chest to smile at him. He pulls you right back down, kissing your lips once before rolling you both over so he's on top of you. He presses a hand over your collarbone and drags his lips down your chin and over your throat.
"You know, this means you're all mine now." he smirks against your neck when you nod, gasping when he sucks gently at the base. He has one forearm on the mattress, the other hand too gentle on your ribs. You can feel that he's hard and you immediately roll your hips up.
"Does this mean you're gonna do more than just kiss me now?" you intend to sound confident, but it comes out as a whimper. His nose brushes over your jaw before he presses lingering kisses to your chin and cheek.
"Yes, baby, if you'll let me." You nod eagerly, shifting your face so your lips are beneath his and sighing happily when he lowers his weight onto your torso, licking into your mouth. You shiver with anticipation when he pushes at your shirt, long fingers tickling up your side before landing on your breast. You gasp into his mouth when his thumb brushes over your already hard nipple.
Your impatience is overwhelming, grabbing the back of his shirt and tugging it up to his shoulders. He pulls away reluctantly, reaching one hand toward his back and pulling his shirt over his head. You gnaw at your lip, running your hands over his stomach and hooking your knees around his hips as much as you can while stretching your arms over your head.
“Cute.” he murmurs, pulling your shirt up and tossing it to the side. He gropes at your chest, tongue wetting his lips before he leans down to wrap them around one of your nipples. He’s trying to act without thinking, to let the dreams he’s had pave the path down your body because he knows the second he acknowledges his nerves he won’t be able to shake them off. His heart thrums when you gasp above him, arching your chest into his mouth. He’s greedy for your sounds, his hands squeezing your breasts together and licking between them to get to the other nipple. When your hips buck up into his he groans, pulling away from your chest and staring down at you with wondering eyes.
“Can I?” He feels unnaturally shy, leaning back on his calves and watching his fingers press dimples into the flesh of your hips above your underwear, tugging at the hem.
“You don’t need to ask.” He smiles, forcing you to sit by grabbing the back of your neck for a kiss. His fingers press into your clothed core and your hips roll into his hand. He sighs into your mouth at your desperation, torn between teasing you and touching you everywhere.
You can’t keep your legs from shutting around his arm when he pushes your panties to the side and slides his middle and ring finger up your wet center, circling over your clit.
You pull away from the kiss, blinking up at him and your mouth falls open when he presses firmly on your clit, rubbing in slow circles. His head hangs as he lets out a quiet “fuck” at your reaction, moving his hand off your neck to stroke over your stomach and without it behind your head you have to lie back, he presses your legs open. Haechan stares at your chest while he settles between your knees, pushing two fingers inside your dripping core. His jaw hangs open, watching his knuckles disappear inside of you.
“So soft,” he breathes, staring down to where his fingers glisten when he pulls them out to rub over your clit again, palming over his cock getting harder in his sweats “want to be everywhere at once.”
“Want you everywhere.” you whine when his fingers pull away to hook into your underwear, tugging them down your legs. Haechan stands to strip and you hold your breath and soak in the soft swell of his hip that leads to where his cock hangs heavy between his legs. It’s pretty like the rest of him, and thicker than you'd expected with a leaking tip that matches the color of his tongue, he strokes himself once and you don’t get the chance to reach for him before he lays back on the bed, rolling you to sit on top of him. You shudder when your pulsing clit rubs over his stomach, inner thigh squeezing into his ribs. He runs his hands up your waist, scooting you an inch higher and grabbing onto your tits.
“Do you remember a few months ago, when you called me drunk and I told you I was dreaming about hanging out with you?” He shivers when you grind down in response, wet pussy sliding easily over his skin “I lied.”
Your hands press into his chest, tilting your head “what were we doing?” you can barely speak above a whisper when he pinches gently at your nipple with one hand, the other rubbing over your ribs when he smirks up at you.
“You were about a foot higher than you are right now,” you gasp and reach out to grab the headboard when he jolts his hips to move you up his chest, staring down at him with wide eyes as he shifts to wrap his arms under your legs, fingers pressing into your thighs.
“You dreamt about this?” you let him bring your hips to hover over his face, hands falling into his hair when he brushes his nose over your clit as he nods.
“All the time,” he moans and drags you down onto his face, lips wrapping around your clit. You shudder above him, letting some of your weight collapse into your heels and he groans happily at the pressure of you on his chin, pressing you harder onto his mouth to fuck his tongue into you. He wants to devour you, every sound you make goes straight to his cock which is already rock hard at the taste and smell of you. Even just thinking about the fact that it's your hips grinding over his face right now is enough to make him moan into your pussy.
You slur out praise, one of your hands shooting up to grip the headboard. His hands wander gently up your sides, eyes opening to stare up to where he plays with your tits, hard cock pulsing at the sight of your head thrown back, hips moving in gentle circles over his face. Haechan’s hand tugs yours down to his hair, trying to restrain himself from thrusting into the empty air at the feeling of you all over him. He hums happily into your pussy when you start to grind over his mouth, flattening his tongue for you to ride until your legs are shaking.
He lets out a deep “mmhmm” when you warn him that you’re going to cum, suckling hard on your clit until you’re practically begging him to let you go, body crumpling forward with both hands tangled in his hair. He's grateful you didn't touch his cock, just the thought of your fingers wrapped around him is enough to make him cum and he has other plans.
You can’t speak when you collapse onto the mattress beside him, immediately warmed by the weight of his body on top of yours as he slots himself between your thighs, sucking a hickey onto the front of your throat.
“Taste too fucking good,” he hums, mouthing over your chin and cheek “been dreaming of eating your sweet pussy for so long.” you practically swoon when he kisses you, pre-cum wetting the inside of your thigh when he relaxes his stomach onto yours.
“Hyuck, want you in me, please” Your vision is blurry, whining into his swollen lips. He works them over your cheek before pulling away from you, bringing one of your legs up to his shoulder and you rest the other knee on his hip. He can feel himself pant when he taps the head of his cock on your swollen clit, practically drooling when he sticks barely the tip inside before pulling back and repeating the tantalizing motion.
“Been waiting for too long to be teased,” you pout, trying to encourage his hips toward yours with the ankle he’s not pressing his cheek into. He smirks and circles his leaking tip over you again, watching his cock spread your arousal around before he pushes into you a little further.
“I’m taking my time with you, feels so fucking good.” He can’t look away from between your thighs, messy hair hanging over his forehead while his fingers grip your ankle tightly. You whimper when he pulls all the way out again, one more hard tap against your pulsing clit before he pushes himself halfway into your leaking pussy. You rise onto your elbows, trying to reach one hand to grab for his hip but he releases the base of his cock to stop you by lacing your fingers together. When Haechan finally looks into your eyes he bottoms out, stretching your leg toward your chest so he can lean in. His hips stutter, a choked groan rumbling deep in his chest.
“Oh my god, Hyuck please.” you beg him to move with a gasp. His forehead presses to your chin, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Fuck, baby, been needing you," he thrusts into you slowly, lifting his head to look down at you glowing beneath him with your eyes shut. He pulls out all the way before thrusting back inside, quickening his hips when your eyes flutter open, the look on your face enough to make his balls tighten slightly, shutting his eyes to regain self control "knew you'd feel so fucking good."
"M’so full, Haechan." you moan at his words and the rapid slap of his hips on the back of your thighs, forcing your eyes to stay open so you can see his face. The way his nose scrunches with focus when he pulls away from your chest, both his hands wrapping firmly around your hips while he watches his cock sink into you. Brown, shaggy hair sticks to his damp forehead, full lower lip taken between his teeth. He’s pure, unadulterated boyish beauty, and he’s all yours.
You squeak when he lets your leg drop off his shoulder, pressing your thigh as far open as it will go with your heel digging into his backside. He fans his fingers over your lower stomach, thumb reaching down to push your clit side to side and your hips tuck up for more pressure, Haechan moans loudly when the movement causes you to clamp around his cock, "Perfect fucking pussy, can't believe it's mine now. Like my fingers on your pretty clit?”
You nod enthusiastically, letting go of your breasts to hold the backs of your thighs, Haechan's eyes move up your body to stare at your chest move beneath him, nipples looking sweet as candy. He’s dying to sink his fingers into the softest part of your stomach, the way you’re moving for him makes his mind turn to sand. You stare down to where his thumb is making circles over your clit, perfectly timed with the head of his cock bruising your g-spot. You feel a second orgasm build and the corner of his mouth pulls up proudly when your legs shake. Your head hangs back as you gasp for air, "yes, please, Haechan feels so fucking good."
"Make the prettiest noises for me, want you cumming all over my cock." he leans forward just enough to trap your throat beneath the weight of his palms, other hand still moving over your swollen clit. You smile at the pressure of his body on yours, eyes fluttering shut while you moan. You nod desperately when he asks if you can do that, "if you can let me make you feel that good, please, my pretty girl."
He takes his hand off your throat when you cum, wanting to hear every sound you could possibly make. You repeat his name like a blessing that has him cumming with you, moaning and breathless as his hips start to slow, milking you both through your orgasms.
You wrap your arms around him when he pulls out of you, reveling in the feeling of him when he lowers himself down, burrowing his face into your neck and warming your skin with his breath. You hold him there for a minute until he pulls his head up, dopey smile lighting up his eyes and making you laugh.
“What?” you scrunch your nose at him “better than your dreams?”
He nods, “so much better, best I ever had, my body belongs to you now.” he smirks at his own words, but his tone is so gentle he can’t even call it a joke.
“Just your body?” you tease, and he leans his nose onto your lips for a kiss that you carry onto the mole under his eye.
“Body, mind, heart, soul,” he sighs happily when you cup his cheeks in your hands, kissing him gently “all the planets in my head.”
"All the planets in my head too."
————
masterlist
authors note // this ended up being much longer than i anticipated, maybe the longest one shot i’ve ever actually written! i appreciate everyone who voted for happy ending because when i was originally thinking of a sad ending it was too hard lol. this feels forever unfinished because there is so much good to this version of haechan, i adore him.
#haechan#haechan fanfiction#haechan smut#nct#nct dream#nct 127#nct dream fanfiction#nct dream smut#nct 127 fanfiction#nct 127 smut#nct fanfiction#nct smut
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𝐛𝐮𝐳𝐳𝐞𝐫 | 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐲
⌦ in which you are a rather popular streamer, and get invited to a cut’s buzzer dating video.
— warnings: pronouns not mentioned, swearing, use of real name
| this is a draft from a while ago, idk why i was obsessed with the buzzer dating vids from cut's but here we are |
⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆
you were anxiously waiting in the room the producers had showed you when you first came into the building. it was a small comfy area; plush green couches and chairs with light blanket throw overs and soft pillows.
it was almost a mystery how you ended here. cut had emailed your team and asked if you were available to shoot a dating video for their channel. although it was a weird offer, you agreed nonetheless, hoping to maybe find someone out of it.
you rubbed your sweaty hands on your jeans as a woman walked into the room. she had just taken her turn but must’ve been buzzed since she came back. this worried you.
“how’d it go?” one of the other women asked. the one who had returned smiled and shook her head.
“he’s cute, but i’m not his type.” she paused, sitting down in a chair and looking over to you. “i really hope you get him, or someone in this room does.” you smiled nervously at her in thanks. just as she moved on to speak again, one of the crew members motioned you to come out.
it was now your turn. deep breath in. deep breath out.
you stood and walked out. the room was a dull white and had two chairs and a table with a button in the middle. you put a confident smile on your face as the man sitting in the chair spoke.
“hi! im alex!” his tone was rather soft, definitely not what you expected once taking in his appearance. he had shoulder length brown fluffy hair, the top of it hidden by a black beanie. his shirt baggy along with his jeans. you couldn’t deny that it was attractive.
you stuck out your hand, his instantly meeting it in a tight grip. “it’s nice to meet you, alex. i’m y/n!” you let go of his soft hand to pull out your chair and sit down.
“are you nervous?” he asked with a slight chuckle. in all honesty, he had felt the shake in your hand when he shook it, he wanted to make sure you were okay.
you let out a little laugh back. “just a little. this is all a little nerve wracking. are you?”
alex nodded, expanding his hands on the table. “a little, yeah. can i ask, how old are you?” he seemed nervous at the question, but you didn’t take it to heart. you would’ve asked the same thing eventually.
“of course! i’m twenty. how about yourself?”
“i’m twenty-one! nice that we’re around the same age.” you agreed with a soft smile. you went to ask a question when the button started to talk.
“what do you guys do for a living?” the robotic voice was loud and clear, coming from the tiny box in front of you. you both stayed silent for a moment, taking in what the button said before speaking up.
“i, uh, stream on twitch, sometimes.” you shrugged, feeling slightly embarrassed. alex looked at you with wide eyes, and you felt like you were a goner.
“no way! i stream on twitch too!” you let out a breathy laughed, shaking your head.
“damn, really? well, i’m glad we have that in common.” he stayed silent with a small smile plastered on his face. the button glowed red and you were sure he was going to press it.
“y/n is into humours people.” the button turned blue again and you felt your stomach doing flips. he didn’t press it.
“oh, really?” alex asked, eyes making contact with your own orbs. you nodded, making his face light up more. “i just happen to be the most funniest person alive.”
“i love the confidence, it’s hot.” you immediately bring your hand to your mouth as a way to shut yourself up.
“what did you say?” please, button. shut up.
alex was laughing, not at you but at the bright pink dusting your face he saw when you removed your hand. “oh, god. i’m sorry!”
“no, no, no, no! i’m flattered to know you think i’m hot. you’re not too bad yourself, mi amor.” your face was a shade darker of pink while his was light. this guy could be a flirt if he wanted.
“do you find each other attractive?”
you swallowed the lump in your throat, holding your own hand under the table. “yeah-yes. i do find him attractive.” you might’ve felt like dying right then and there.
“i too, find y/n attractive.” alex said in a sly tone. you stared at each other for a few moments before it was ruined by the room lighting up red by the button once again. you watched alex's eyes drop down to the button, then back to you. but he made no move to press it, and neither did you.
"this is the second time, and neither of you have pressed." said the button, turning blue. "do you wish to see each other outside of this video?"
you nodded, quickly, causing alex to laugh. "i would love to see him after this, if he'll have me." you gave a small wink and shy smile. alex shook his head.
"i'd love to have you, you don't even need to ask." you laughed lightly, trying to get rid of the warm feeling in your stomach and the tight knots twisting.
"go on, give each other a hug to end it off." alex stood out of his chair, slowly walking over to you and reaching a hand out. without thinking twice, you reach out and let him help you stand. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, while his secured around your waist. he swayed you both for a moment or two before letting go, but not going too far.
"you guys are free to go now, hope you work out!" a female producer called out, clapping her hands along with a few other workers. you made your way towards the exit, slightly embarrassed and took a deep breathe as you reached outside.
"hey!" you turned around to see non other than alex, hands on his hips. "leaving so soon?" he smirked.
"not without my prize." you flirted back, stepping closer. his eyes widened and he let out a huff.
"speaking up now are we?" he let his palm rest against your jaw and he rubbed thumb rub back and forth. just when you thought he was going in for a kiss, he pulled back. "would love for your number so we can continue this."
you stared at him, mixed emotions in your eyes. lust, confusion, and even anger. sad to say, you may have desperately wanted to kiss him there.. who wouldn't have? in your haze state, you pulled out your phone and handed it to him. he punched in his number and handed your phone back to you. alex told you that he needed to leave to stream, which you understood. he pressed a kiss to your forehead and turned around.
as you watched him walk away, you thought about what would have happened if you didn't agree to do this video. but quickly put that thought behind you, because you had potentially met your future lover. you were definitely going to be stalking his stream before you had to start your own for the night.
⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆
a/n: bye lol i rushed the ending i didnt know what to put LMAO. ok i hope you enjoyed.
#quackity x y/n#quackity imagines#quackity x reader#quackity#quackity x you#quackity smp#qsmp quackity#dsmp x reader#qsmp x y/n#qsmp x reader#dsmp x you
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a way to wake | ksj
you're fast asleep and seokjin has to wake you up... an old method he used on his friend eventually comes to mind
description/tags/note: seokijn drabble / fluff + suggestive / established relationship / i had this idea in my head for a while, ever since i found out how jin used to wake up jungkook when they were younger... and i ended up writing the whole thing while stuck in traffic on a random afternoon / i am actively working on til you make it 2 whenever i have the time! i'm glad i took my time with it, i improved it in all this time and am still thinking of ways to improve it little by little / also, i often get ideas or scenarios in my head that could be mini pieces, not even a drabble - some are barely even 500 words. would you guys be interested in stuff like that? lmk!! / anyways, enjoy!! / edit: i edited this fic to make it even more suggestive. they both hint at yn wanting jin to wake her up by touching her.
wc: ~1.3k words
Seokjin didn’t have it in him. You were sleeping so peacefully beside him, as you had through all seven of your alarms, likely finally getting in a good rest after many sleepless nights… and he had to disturb it?
He knew he didn’t really have a choice - you were already running late. It wasn’t going to be a problem for Seokjin really, after you both showered, it’d only take him a couple more minutes at most to change into his suit. You, on the other hand, always needed some extra time to get ready, and that ‘extra’ time was getting shorter and shorter the more he let you sleep.
You’d want him to wake you up, he knew that for certain, as well as the fact that you would probably scold him as well as yourself for your sleeping in. That reminder is what finally got him to nudge and rub your shoulder.
“Jagiya?”
He repeats the action numerous times, raising the volume of his voice every time, but still, you slept.
“Honey,” he calls with a laugh, tickling your side, belly, and thigh. Your elbow twitches once, but never again despite him repeating the action over and over again. “We need to leave soon. You need to wake up now, darling.”
Nothing.
He gets up to pull open a bit of the curtains, letting sunlight stream in and disrupt the darkness of your bedroom.
Still, nothing.
Frustrated now, Seokjin pulls out his phone and quickly takes a photo of you sleeping - just for himself - before opening up the music app. He plays clips of several songs, and all you do is wince, sleeping through them as you did your alarms.
“Are you faking it?” he asks aloud to your sleeping body. “Jagi… if you’re faking sleep, I swear I won’t eat you out tonight. I’m serious.”
Nothing.
That definitely would’ve done it if you were faking sleep. Really, you had no reason to fake it - you'd panic at the mere thought of running late - but Seokjin couldn’t eliminate the possibility entirely. You could be a bit of a brat at times.
He half considers physically pulling you out of bed, throwing a plushie at you, or emptying a water bottle on you, until he remembers a failsafe. A way that couldn’t hurt you like manhandling could, nor anger you with wet pajamas and sheets.
Jungkook’s way.
Seokjin giggles to himself at the thought. He had never tried it on any of his exes in the past, just Jungkook, really. It wasn't uncommon for boys to do such a thing at that age, especially when they were playfully roughhousing, which, with Jungkook, happened every day and at any time of day. Seokjin always had the edge by starting off Jungkook's days just like that - it always did the trick... And considering the other similarities you shared with Seokjin's younger friend, it wasn’t something to dismiss entirely.
Slowly, he turns you until you’re lying entirely on your back against the mattress, facing the ceiling with shut eyes. He moves from his position next to you until he’s over you, straddling your body with a knee planted on either side of your hips. He never took on this position with Jungkook of course, and almost started regretting it already - you felt too good.
“Jagi,” he whispers, pulling away the blanket from your body and letting his hand graze the skin at your collarbone and your stomach by the hem of your pajama top. He kisses your neck once, calling your name. It was the final chance he'd give you before he’d pull the trigger.
And you didn’t budge.
He sighs in defeat, not holding back his smile any longer when he sees your hardened nipples peak through the thin fabric of your top. Ready. Just for him.
With his index finger and thumb on both hands, Seokjin pinches and fiddles with your raised buds for mere seconds before you shoot up, finally awake.
“Wh?! W..what the fuck?! Jin!” you yell, wriggling underneath your fiancé’s body as he laughs, tumbling over you.
“I can’t believe that worked,” he says between his giggles, stopping only when you lazily reach towards his chest. “YA! I only did that to wake you up. You slept through your alarms, bub. We’re running late.”
“WHAT?!” you yell, pushing him off of you and hurriedly searching for your phone. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner?
“I TRIED!” he protests, getting off the bed. “You slept like a rock. Who knew squeezing your nipples would finally do it? It’s what I used to do to Jungkook when we shared a dorm. Though, of course, I used to twist his nipples to the point where he was certain I detached them from his body somehow. I tried handling you with care, princess.”
“Couldn’t you have used your fingers somewhere else, Seokjin? A bit lower perhaps? You know, something Jungkook doesn’t have? Something you could only possibly do with your girlfriend?”
Seokjin stares at you. Despite the fact that you’d looked delectable asleep and under him already, the thought never occurred to him. Of course the thought wouldn’t occur to him. This wasn’t a conversation you had had together and he hadn’t gotten your consent or any hint that it’d be something you would want. Unless of course, he had been the reason you refused to wake up… Seokjin’s mind wanders with a desperate need within him to have the conversation then and there, knowingly unprepared if you’d admitted to it all. Wanting to be woken up that way. A dream, perhaps. They might have just forget the event altogether…
He begins following you around the room with pleas for a moment to talk, but you don’t turn back for a second until it is to do the exact opposite of handling him with care - dragging and pushing him into the bathroom.
Seokjin watches as you undress, doing the same and half hoping for a quickie, considering your eagerness. He almost felt his length begin to harden, but soon you’re pushing him once more, into the tepid shower with a loofah in hand. He tries to put his thought away for now, caring for your body in another way he felt so privileged to do. To maximize efficiency, you wash yourselves and one another before going about your routines at double the pace. Seokjin’s entirely dressed in minutes, save for his suit jacket, while you were still getting ready, wearing a lingerie set underneath a robe. Extra time for you, and extra time for him to admire you.
“Help me with my dress,” you command him, stepping into a dress he promptly zips up, but not before he drinks up the sight of you in brown silk and lace underneath. Stood behind you, he watches as you adorn yourself with jewelry but can’t stop his hand from snaking over your waist, softly cupping your breasts over the fabric of your dress. You don’t react save for a sharp inhale, continuing to adorn your look. You’re so stunning it almost brings him to his knees. He’d happily allow his body to get there, too, kneeling to tease you at the very least and at most, sneaking his head underneath your dress and pulling down your underwear - just for a taste. But instead, he nudges his head in the crook of your neck - softly kissing along the chain of your necklace. “Tell me, honey… were you dreaming of me? Is that why you didn’t want to wake up?”
You roll your eyes, playfully swatting Seokjin’s hand on your waist, his fake arrogance replaced with a wide smile in seconds. “We need to leave.”
“I made a promise,” Seokjin says, wearing his jacket. “While you were asleep. I made a promise.”
“Oh?” you question, spraying perfume on the two of you. The final touch.
“I said that if you were faking sleeping through your alarms, I wouldn’t eat you out tonight.”
The promise makes you stop in your tracks towards the front door, Seokjin getting there first with an intrigued expression on his face when he looks back. “Since you weren’t faking it, that means I have to do it. And since you slept through the many different ways I tried waking you up… I guess it seems I gotta get you to do something else.... gotta get you somewhere.... many different ways tonight…. Oh, and of course, you won't be faking it this time around as well.”
He’s unsure if the redness in your cheeks is heat flooding your system or makeup he simply hadn’t noticed a minute prior. As you make your way towards your fiancee, you see smugness only slightly present on his face, overshadowed by sincerity - that of a genuine promise. Your hands fiddle with Seokjin’s tie before resting on his chest.
“I didn’t realize dreams could manifest into reality that quickly.”
“I knew it,” Seokjin smiles, kissing your hand as his ears go red. The idea of you actually having a wet dream about him this long into your relationship… the fact that you’d dream of him and his body pleasuring yours, after only hours apart in sleep… it sent him into a frenzy.
“I mean, I know I’ll hear it tonight, but I kind of wish you’d been moaning my name in your sleep…”
“Well, you didn’t see my pajama shorts, did you?,” you whisper, flicking Seokjin’s nipple over his shirt. He winces but is quick to disregard the pain - his face flushed, and he suddenly doesn’t know what to do with his hands, trying to reach for your waist, thigh, or ass - you push him away.
“It was a very vivid dream, honey. Don’t you worry… I’ll tell you all the many different ways I want it. The ways you did it… And tomorrow, wake me up like it never ended.”
There it was.
“Can we stay in? We’re late already,” Seokjin whines. “We can get a head start. Morning to morning…” He feeling his knees buckling at the thought, slowly trying to pull you closer to him in persuasion. You don’t budge and open the door instead.
“You know we can’t…. Now’s your time to dream of me.”
The hunger within him only grew, already fantasising of the of the night to come. Now, he was in competition with himself and he’d make sure your reality is far better than anything you could dream of.
#jin drabble#seokjin drabble#jin scenario#seokjin scenario#jin fluff#seokjin fluff#jin scenarios#bts fanfiction#bts fanfic#bts fic#bts fluff#bts scenario#bts scenarios#seokjin imagine#seokjin scenarios#jin x you#jin x reader#jin x y/n#kim seokjin x you#kim seokjin x reader#seokjin x you#seokjin x reader#seokjin#jin#bts drabble#jin oneshot#jin one shot#seokjin one shot#bts one shot#bts oneshot
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since you admitted it,
content: tsukishima x fem!reader angst, breakup, cheating, fighting, trashy writing, not proofread, kinda ooc, swearing lmk if i missed some!
a/n: inspired by Babe - Taylor Swift!! I keep forgetting i have responsibilities on this account lolzies, anyways, I think this is my first time writing angst? also, i'm working on some requests rn so sorry for the delayyy :(
you and tsukishima have been arguing for what seemed like hours now. yelling at each other back and forth, throat hurting from all the screams and explaining.
"for God's sake, I didn't do shit with her! how many times do I have to say that!?" tsukishima screams. there's this girl that's been making you uncomfortable, she was beautiful. her face so pretty almost as if it was carefully crafted by god himself, her voice so sweet and smooth like honey. you felt insecure.
tsukishima had been getting close with her, which wasn't a problem at first. so what if he was friends with her, right? wrong. eventually, tsukishima had been getting way too close, cancelling plans "because she needs help studying" or "she's not feeling well, I need to be there for her"
you were getting sick. though, you held your tongue. you stayed silent and let it slide, maybe they're just good friends, that's all. is what you kept repeating to yourself.
"why are you so mad that I'm hanging out with her, geez! you have guy friends and you hangout with them all the time, why are you suddenly mad at me and her just because you're insecure? you're always like this when we hangout!" he screams again. this was the first time you ever brought it up, what could he possibly mean by 'always'?
"stop dragging useless shit into this, tsukishima! you're not stupid so stop acting like it! you know that those gestures are more than friendly!" you scream back, tears streaming down your cheeks. "I have NEVER brought this up until now, why are you so defensive, kei?! why are you hiding things from me?"
"I'm not fucking hiding anything, okay!? what do you want me to do? she's my friend! I can't just stop talking to her even if I wanted to!"
bullshit.
"really? you can't?" you say through choked sobs "are you fucking kidding me, kei? you can't? you can't stop holding her waist? you can't stop cancelling plans just to go to her house? you can't stop kissing her when you think i'm not looking? are you kidding me?"
you were shaking with anger, you couldn't find the right words at that moment, you wanted to scream and cry and shout at him but you just couldn't.
"what the hell are you talking about? I can never do anything like that, especially not with her--"
"well now you can because we're over! I can't do this anymore, kei!"
silence fills the room for a few minutes, you clench your fists so hard you were shaking. but what really bothered you the most was the slightly relieved expression on tsukishima's face.
only punctuated by your ragged breaths and the remnants of your tears staining your cheeks. tsukishima's eyes widened, the relief he initially wore began to fade into a mix of shock and regret.
tsukishima's voice, no longer fueled by anger, now shaken with uncertainty. "wait, just, let's not make reckless decisions here. I didn't mean for it to come to this!"
your heart ached as you gazed into his eyes. at that moment, you questioned if you had done the right thing. but you knew that the doubt, insecurity, and pain that had been bottling up in you had pushed you.
trembling with a mixture of anger and hurt, you finally had the strength to confront him. "Kei, you need to tell me the truth. did you do more than just kiss her?" the words hung heavily in the air, and a knot formed in the pit of your stomach.
tsukishima's shoulders slumped even further, and he let out a long, heavy sigh. with a voice that was almost a whisper, he admitted, "yes, I did, but--"
you let out a quivering gasp, covering your mouth with your hands. utterly disgusted with what he just admitted. betrayal surged through your veins, overshadowing the pain that had been lingering. the air became suffocating, and you struggled to comprehend the reality of his admission.
"i'm leaving," your voice shaking as you fought tears that threatened to overflow again "i should've known..."
tsukishima's gaze dropped to the floor, unable to meet your eyes. "i... i didn't want to hurt you. i was going to tell you eventually...i just couldn't find the right time i--"
a bitter laugh escaped your lips, "you thought hiding the truth would spare my feelings? how could you?"
tsukishima started to get angry again, his ego and pride unable to handle the truth in your words. "fucking hell," he mumbles "i messed up, okay? i never meant for it to get this far. it just...happened."
your anger flared again, and you took a step back, distancing yourself from him. "no, tsukishima, it didn't just happen. you made choices, and you chose to betray me!"
as you turned to leave, his voice trailed after you, desperate and regretful. "i'm sorry, i really am."
but the apology fell on deaf ears. the door closed behind you, leaving tsukishima alone in the haunting silence of the room.
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pairing: james potter x fem!reader ft. remus and sirius
summary: james is surprisingly willing to help you despite only having known you for a few weeks.
contents: reader is on her period, james barges into the bathroom because he's That Close to his friends
Sharing both a room and a bathroom with three men after having shared with four women is jarring, to say the least. Your old roommates could be slobs, of course, but there's something about James's habit barging into the bathroom whenever he pleases that doesn't sit right with you at first. You understand why he'd done it before you'd gotten there; you're sure they all had. You had no problem brushing your teeth beside Lily or Marlene while they were showering or peeing, but now that you're equipped with different tools than the rest of your roommates, it just feels wrong for them to see.
You first encounter it on a Monday morning, an appropriately terrible day for a terrible experience. You've just gotten up, and you're using the bathroom before you get dressed for the day, when James decides he needs to shower right then and there. He shouts a quick, 'Comin' in, mate!' Before turning the knob with the broken lock and storming right in, not giving you enough time to announce your presence.
"Ah- James!" You think you'll die right then and there, hands hovering over your crotch as James realizes what he's done. He's butt naked, probably tired after practice and in need of a steamy shower, but he's not any more enthusiastic about you seeing his parts than you are of him seeing yours, and he scrambles to cover himself up.
"Uh- sorry. I didn't realize it was you, I thought- I thought you had classes this morning. I apologize," He smiles kindly, though his eyes bulge where they're glued to your own, "Uh- you can... get back to business."
Neither of you had looked each other in the eyes for nearly 36 hours, but eventually the awkwardness died down, and you moved on.
Until the second time.
"Y/N," He calls, while you're in the shower, behind the flimsy curtain, "Listen, I know you're in the shower and all, but I'm running late, and I really need to brush my teeth. I don't want to rush you, can I just- just pop in there for a second? I swear I won't look."
You're at a loss for words, mouth opening and closing like a fish while the water streams around you. You appreciate his consideration, you know he doesn't want to scare you off or cross your boundaries, but it's a bold request. You're covered, sure, but the bathroom light is on, and you're sure you've got a silhouette behind the curtain. But you're going to be a while longer, and it's not fair of you to hold James up.
"Uh- sure," You stammer, covering up your chest like he'll be able to see through the curtain with laser eyes, "Come on in."
He doesn't hesitate to rush inside, but he's considerate enough to close the door after himself so that no one else stumbles upon you. You appreciate it, but you're frozen as he brushes his teeth quickly, bidding you a cheery goodbye like he hadn't just skimmed over giving you a heart attack. He shuts the door on his way back out, and there's not an ounce of awkwardness in his tone when he chats with you about his day later.
The third time, the third time is the kicker. You've started your period, the first time since you've been staying with James, Remus, and Sirius. You're sure they wouldn't give you a hard time for it, they seem decent enough so far, but there's just something mortifying about putting a used pad in a man's bathroom trash can.
You've changed your sheets before anyone can see the red stain, but your panties haven't been as fortunate yet. They're laying stained and wet on the ground beside your equally mangled shorts, hopefully not transferring the blood to the fabric below.
You don't get any warning, not enough time to hide them when you hear James's heavy footfalls by the door. He barges in without warning, face shifting to apologetic for only a split second before he registers the bloody clothes on the floor.
"Aah," He yelps, "Fuckin'- Are you wounded? You- oh." His sex education catches up to him, realizing why you've got blood only in the pad of your underwear, "Uh- right. Sorry."
"Get-" You start with a hiss, but you rein yourself in, trying to be kind, "James, can you- can you please get out?"
"Yeah! Yeah, right, I'll-" He motions over his shoulder with his thumb, "Uh- the guys are coming, so I'll head out. And-"
"The- what? Remus and Sirius are on their way back?" You panic, regretting your late wake-up. You could have really used the time they spent at breakfast to clean up."
"Yeah, they're- at the door."
"Close the door!" You urge him, as you hear the two other men enter the room. James does as he's told, but instead of stepping out, he steps in, panicked by your harsh tone of voice.
"Not- no!" You gush, but when he tries correcting himself, you lunge for his hand.
"Don't leave!" You beg, but rush to explain yourself when he frowns worriedly at you.
"I don't-" You whisper, "I don't want them to know I'm in here. Like- like this. If you leave they'll know. Just-" You fall silent with a sigh, "I don't know."
"Right." He nods, keeping his voice down so that it's muffled to Remus and Sirius, "Uh, I'll-"
"James? Mate, m'coming in," Sirius's voice comes from just outside the door, and you and James stare at each other, terrified. He rushes to slam his back against the door, and Sirius is unable to turn the knob.
"No! Uh, you can't-" James stammers, clearing his throat and steeling himself, "Use the bathroom in the hallway. I've got the squirts, mate, you don't wanna be in here with me."
You're lucky that Remus and Sirius groan in disgust, because it muffles your quick snort into your fist.
"You fuckin' animal. I told you not to cram those sausages down your throat," Remus snaps, "Now we can't use it for the rest of the day."
"Yeah, yeah, I've learned my lesson," James promises, shooting you a knowing wink, "Now get out!"
You're fairly certain you hear Sirius groan 'gladly', but you can't be certain. Their footsteps recede, then the outer door shuts, and once again you're alone with James. You wait for him to leave, but he lingers for a moment, politely avoiding staring at your soiled clothes.
"Right, well, they won't be back for a while. Do you want me to leave, too?"
"Uh- no, it's- it's okay," You decide, "You know."
"Yeah. Do you need any," James cringes before he even offers, "Help? I mean, I'm sure you've got wiping down, just- do you want, like, chocolate or something? Doesn't that help?"
"No! No, James, it's alright," You assure him, touched by his offer even if you're also embarrassed by it, "I don't want you to go to any trouble."
"No trouble," He shrugs, letting himself out of the bathroom and hovering in the doorway, "I know where Remus's stash is! He probably won't even notice it's missing, he's got so much. I can snatch some for you?"
"Really, it's okay," You smile kindly at him, still doubled over on the toilet with your elbows covering what you don't want him seeing, "Just- a moment alone, please?"
"Right," He nods with a grin, shutting the door, "Sorry!"
You breathe deep when you finally have a moment alone, cheeks burning with mortification. You're not sure you'll recover from this for a month, conveniently just enough time for it to happen again. You clean yourself up swiftly, not eager to spend more time in the bathroom that's revealed you to your roommate thrice in a month now.
James is kicked back on his bed when you reenter the main room, and he shoots you a kind smile that you bashfully return. You get to work putting new sheets on your bed, but when you move your pillow, you find a chocolate bar tucked under it.
If the sly grin on his face as he turns the page of his book is any indication, he's heard your light chuckle, and knows you appreciate him.
#james potter x reader#james potter imagine#james potter scenario#james potter oneshot#james potter one shot#james potter one-shot#james potter headcanon#james potter headcanons#james potter hc#james potter hcs#james potter fanfiction#james potter fanfic#james potter fic#james potter blurb#james potter drabble#james potter dialogue#james potter fluff#james potter x reader fanfiction
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Babygirl
PAIRING | Chris Evans x Female!Reader
WORD COUNT | 1.8K
SUMMARY | Chris threw a party, but you do not remember anything when you woke up the following day. Not only are you not in the guest bed you were supposed to occupy, but you wake up in Chris' arms after a steamy night. He helps you piece everything together, and your dynamic shifts in a way you're delighted with.
WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. RPF, friends to FWB, use of pet name (Babygirl), swearing, brief mentions of vomit, slight dub-con/non-con if you squint, smut (handjob, fingering, unprotected sex - wrap it before you tap it!).
A/N | This is requested by the amazing @cevansbaby-dove, for which I can not thank you enough! This man is absolutely amazing, and I can never get enough of your sweet requests for him 🖤
Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💚
Divider is made by @firefly-graphics | 18+ banner is made by yours truly
Main Masterlist | Chris Evans Masterlist
You wake up in an unfamiliar bed, wrapped in a pair of strong arms, your head lying on a warm, firm chest with a smell that is very familiar to you. When you slowly open your eyes and lift your head, you look at Chris' face.
''How the fuck did I end up here?!'' you whisper to yourself as you try and scramble out of his grip, but he only seems to hold on tighter as he sighs softly.
You close your eyes again as you try to piece together what happened last night, but somewhere after your 5th or 6th drink, you're not sure, and your memory is very fragmented.
All you know is that you got way too drunk and somehow ended up in bed with him, and you secretly hoped nothing had gone down between the two of you, but one lift of the comforter showed you all you needed to know.
You're both very naked; he is also very hard right now.
''Hmm, you like what you see, Babygirl?'' Chris says with a deep voice, and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as you look up at him with a worried look.
''Did I-, I mean we- us- Did we...?'' you stumble as you sit upright, clinging to the comforter to your chest as you try to piece everything together, which isn't easy with the raging hangover you're currently faced with.
Your head feels like it's throbbing uncontrollably, and you squeeze your eyes shut as a wave of nausea washes over you, trying your hardest not to throw up all over his bed.
''Oookay, Babygirl, let's get you into the shower and some aspirin in you,'' Chris says as the wave of nausea dies down, and when you open your eyes, the world is spinning, and your head throbbing worsens.
In a reflex, he grabs a trash can on the side of his bed, and you clutch it tightly as it feels like your inside is coming out through your mouth, vomiting out what seems like an endless stream of everything you had to eat and drink last night.
Chris rubs his hand softly up and down your back, soothing you through your emotions, and the tears fall down your cheeks as you let out an undeniable sob as a sharp pain shoots through your head.
''C'mere,'' he says as he slowly pulls you into his arms, not to disturb you any further now that you feel like this.
You keep sobbing, and it worsens the pain, which only pushes you to keep crying more, and you end up in a vicious cycle of pain and tears.
''Shh, calm down, Babygirl, you're okay. You're doing well for me,'' he whispers into your hair between soft kisses, and eventually, your sobs die down to quiet sniffles, all while Chris still holds you close.
''Shall we take a shower?'' he asks, and you look at him with wide eyes, unsure if you should do it. It's not that you don't want to do it, but wouldn't it change everything between you two? But then again, last night already changed everything in your dynamic.
''A-are you sure...? I mean-''
''I'm sure, Babygirl. But only if you want it, too. I can't get enough of you now that I've had a taste,'' he purrs into your ear, and your stomach feels leaping.
He slowly lays you down to prepare the shower and returns with some aspirin and a water bottle, urging you to drink something to get you hydrated.
After the medicine has settled in for a bit, you're slowly getting up with Chris' help, and he guides you to the bathroom and into the warm stream of the shower.
You groan as the warm water envelops your body, making Chris' dick twitch at the sound. After last night, he can't get enough of hearing your sweet sounds, and he plans on pulling so many more from you.
He steps in behind you as he closes the curtain of his shower, and you can feel him crowding your space right until you can feel his hands roaming over your arms and sides.
''Chris, what are you doing?'' you ask, a little unsure, though you would lie to yourself if you didn't enjoy him touching you.
''Shh, just let it happen Babygirl. I'm not going to hurt you, and if you feel uncomfortable, you can always use your safeword,'' he whispers, and you nod before giving yourself over to Chris and his touches.
''B-But we should talk afterward,'' you say as you turn around and look up at him.
''We will, but first, I will make you feel better, Babygirl. Orgasms are supposed to help with headaches, after all,'' he says as he nuzzles into your neck, and you lull your head to the side to give him the access he's looking for.
''Please, kiss me,'' you whine a little, and Chris is more than happy to oblige as he steps closer to your body, his now fully hard member poking against your abdomen.
His lips find yours in a sweet kiss that takes your breath away, but your hand slides between your bodies and wraps around him, making him grunt before you slowly move your hand up and down.
''Fuck, Babygirl,'' he groans against your lips, and you can't help but let your mouth curl into a smile as you hear how good he feels.
You envelop his mouth with yours while you keep rubbing up and down with your hand, teasing his tip, swallowing his sounds as your tongues dance together.
Before Chris can even tell you it's happening, you feel his dick twitch in your hand, and without warning, he cums over your hand and both your stomachs with a loud moan.
''Fucking hell, that felt so good, Babygirl, but now it's my turn to make you feel good,'' he says, and you let go of his dick, his hand inching to your dripping pussy.
You gasp as he plunges two fingers into your entrance without warning after feeling how wet you are because of him, and a high whine follows quickly after as it takes you over completely.
He keeps going in a steady motion with his fingers while his thumb plays with your clit until he suddenly stops before your orgasm.
''Trust me, Babygirl, it'll be worth it,'' he says as he picks you up and pushes you against the wall, letting you glide down slightly until your entrance catches onto his tip, and he slides in with a smooth thrust.
The water from the shower washes over you both as he slowly thrusts up into you, taking his sweet time and building you right back up to your orgasm. You trust him with your life, so this won't be any different.
He keeps whispering sweet nothings against you while thrusting, which makes the butterflies in your stomach constantly go wild with every word.
''I-I lo-o-o-ve y-you,'' you say as he picks up the pace, and with that, you shatter around him, your orgasm being mindbending as it makes you cross-eyed for a good minute.
When you're finally coming down, you slump your head forward, and with a dopey grin, you pant against his chest when you realize he came inside you, too, but you didn't even notice.
''I love you too, Babygirl, and there aren't enough words to tell you just how much,'' he says with a kiss against your temple. You two finish your shower, letting Chris wash your hair and your body before enabling you to do the same with him, making you giggle uncontrollably as he gets shampoo on his eye. He curses in a thick Boston accent at the invasion.
''When you're done, he grabs towels for both of you and dries you off, leaving kisses over every inch of skin he can reach, and it feels like second nature to both of you.
''Let's get you into some clothes; we wouldn't want you walking around the house naked when we still have guests, huh?'' he says, and your eyes grow wide as saucers as you look at him, and the realization sinks in.
They heard you fall apart on Chris' cock in the shower and probably during the night, though you don't remember anything about that.
''Chris, we still need to talk about what happened because as much as I love you, I'm not ready for a relationship now,'' you confess, and he nods.
''We can just keep on sleeping together and have a friends-with-benefits relationship,'' he offers as if it's the most normal thing in the world.
''But... what if one of us would get into a relationship with someone else?'' you ask, the thought making your throat close a little, a lump forming.
''I don't want anyone else than you, Babygirl. I want you in whichever way you'll have me, and I'll wait for you as long as I have to,'' he says before capturing your lips in one more kiss that sends you soaring.
''Okay,'' you breathe out when he pulls away, and with a big smile, you get dressed in a pair of boxer briefs. Chris hands you together with one of his shirts, which is way too big and perfect for you.
''C'mon, let's make some breakfast. You deserve it, and we need to get something in your stomach so you won't vomit like that again,'' Chris jokes, and you slap him against his chest.
''Not funny!'' you say, but you laugh anyway, and when you go down the stairs, you're greeted by some of the guests who slept over after the party, including his brother, Scott.
''Well, there we have the two lovebirds,'' he jokes, but Chris shoots him a glare with a slight shake of his head and immediately shuts his mouth.
''Just get seated, Babygirl, and I'll whip you up some breakfast, okay?'' he asks, and you happily do while scrolling through your social media, not paying attention to Chris and Scott's conversation.
''She's not ready for a relationship, but she agreed to be friends with benefits, so I'm happy with it,'' Chris says with a big smile, and Scott claps him on his shoulder approvingly, making you look at the two of them.
''I'll leave you two to your breakfast,'' he says before gracefully sliding out of the kitchen, and not long after, Chris puts a plate down in front of you with pancakes and some fruit, together with a small kiss on the crown of your head.
''I love you, Babygirl,'' he says as he gets seated, and you happily dig into your pancakes while you tell him about some things you saw on social media, but mostly dog videos, since that's precisely what the two of you bonded over, to begin with.
#chris evans#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans fanfic#chris evans one shot#chris evans request#chris evans imagine#chris evans x female reader#chris evans x reader#chris evans x y/n#chris evans angst#chris evans fluff#chris evans smut#slight dubcon/noncon
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The love you’re getting for Chris on your page is so adorable 😫
I want to request something really cute where the gf is the affectionate type (always wanting hugs and kisses) and at one point Chris finds it amusing and keeps teasing her but he eventually gives in ofc and he’s then just smothering her in sm love 🥺 tyyy!
needy ⮕ c.s.
word count: 657
warnings: swearing, teasing, insane amounts of fluff, mentions of kissing
summary: physical affection was how you showed your love, and even though chris teased you, he loved every second of it
a/n: thank you so much 🥹🫶🏻 honestly, i’m absolutely flabbergasted by it, to say the least 😭 this is SUCH a cute idea and i absolutely loved writing it. it’s a little short, but i did my best 🤞🏻thank you for the request !!!
everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.
You’d never been one to express yourself with words. It wasn’t really an issue for you, you just couldn’t find the right words sometimes, so you’d express yourself in other ways.
Being with Chris was like a breath of fresh air, his way of showing love was similar, but with more teasing.
“Another kiss, babe, really?” He’d say, your cheeks tinged pink as he grinned down at you. You’d stutter out a response, your stomach filled with butterflies as his smile grew impossibly wider and he leaned in.
“Well, good morning.” He’d say, relaxing completely as you wrapped your arms around him from behind and rested your cheek between his shoulder blades. He’d rest his hands over yours, entwining your fingers and bringing your hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to your palm.
You never thought you’d find someone who accepted you so quickly, and completely opened his arms to you. Chris took you in fully and immediately, waiting patiently for you to finally find the words you needed to tell him how you felt.
He’d known you had a hard time expressing how you felt, and he completely relished in the love you were showing him, even if he made a comment about it.
You were laying in his bed, Chris at his desk on stream with Matt and Nick. He’d told you an hour ago it would be over soon, but you had told him not to worry about it. What you didn’t realize was that you could miss someone who hadn’t even left. It had only been a few hours, and you felt your chest aching for him.
Before you knew it, you were standing from his bed and walking over to his desk, pulling up a chair and plopping down next to it. His eyes flickered to yours, his eyebrows raised in amusement as his attention went back to the game. You had absolutely no idea what was going on on the screen, but being closer to Chris felt better.
He let go of the controller for a second and pressed a button on his keyboard. “My mic is muted, what’s up?” He asked. Your eyes met his instantly, your cheeks burning as you looked for a reply.
“Nothing’s up, really.” You said, your voice coming out completely unconvincing. Chris raised an eyebrow, an amused smile growing on his lips. Something flickered in his eyes, and he turned back to the screen and unmuted his mic.
“Hey guys, I think I’m gonna hit the hay.” He said, your eyes nearly bugging out of your head.
“Are you fucking for real, right now? We’re at sixteen kills, Chris.”
You bit your tongue to avoid laughing, Matt’s face completely bewildered on Chris’ screen.
“I’m completely for real. Matt, you’re gonna have to carry.” He said, completely shutting down his system before Nick could react. “Come on.” He said, pulling his headphones off and standing from his seat. You watched him, your brows furrowed as he reached his bed and raised an eyebrow.
“Are you gonna leave me hanging?” He asked, dropping down on his bed and opening his arms. You grinned and stood up, rushing over to the bed and jumping in. You would have been embarrassed by how quickly you moved, if it wasn’t for Chris smiling at you and pulling you into his arms. His back was against the bed frame, your head resting on his shoulder with his arm around you, his free hand reaching for the remote and turning on the TV.
You looked up at him, a wide grin on your face as he looked down at you. You couldn’t believe how lucky you were, just taking in how amazing the boy in front of you was. His eyes were shining with mischief, his own smile growing as he shook his head, pressed a kiss to your forehead, and mumbled a teasing remark under his breath.
“So needy.”
#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#matt sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo triplets
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what lies beneath | k.hj
pairing: kim hongjoong x g/n reader
genre: siren au, artist!reader
includes: angst, some fluff
rating: T/13+
warnings: language, slight horror themes, mentions/descriptions of food, Family Issues as a plot point (💀)
word count: 13.5k
summary: there’s a pair of eyes blinking up at you from below the pier. you think you know who (or what, really) they belong to—but you might be too afraid to admit it.
You had been sure of several things before you spent the summer at the beach with your cousins.
One, that you were not an "outside" person. You couldn't stand fishing, you hated lying underneath the sun to tan—you could swim well enough, you supposed, to keep yourself afloat—but that was it.
Two, that there was nothing more embarrassing than being a tourist in a town you'd practically grown up in.
And three, that sea monsters of any kind were absolutely, completely, 100% fictional.
It was fun to pretend as a child, sure—you remember plenty of summers playing in the ocean with your friends, or listening to your uncle tell scary stories to you and your siblings about the creatures he'd seen in his time in the navy or deep-sea fishing—but that was it. Pretending. You knew that just as well as the rest of them did.
Which is why it's now somewhat embarrassing to be back here—spending yet another summer with your extended family, and now seeing your younger cousins now running up and down the side of your uncle's small pontoon boat. "Fish-man!" one of them cries out, pointing towards the water. "I saw it! I swear!"
The other one nods. "He was huge!"
Your uncle laughs from the wheel behind you. "I bet he was! I always heard they like to catch the sides of the waves the boats make for speed—can't get too close, though, or they'll get chomped by the propellers!" He makes a chomping gesture by opening and closing his fist, and your cousins giggle.
"You heard?" you ask, turning around from the seat near the bow. "I thought you always said you'd seen those fish-men with your own two eyes back in the day, Uncle."
He smirks at you. "Those were the deep-sea days. I've never seen any creatures this close to shore, but who knows?" he shrugs, winning at you. "Maybe we'll get lucky."
Right. You resist the urge to roll your eyes as you turn back around, the spray of the saltwater coming up on either side refreshing enough to distract you from the stories your cousins are now hurriedly making up behind you.
The rest of the day is decidedly less painful; your uncle is considerate enough to let you stay on the boat when he anchors it on a nearby island, so you're able to at least attempt relaxing while your cousins run amuck on the shore. By the time you're finally pulling back in to the dock behind your uncle's house on the bay, you can already see the hues of pink and orange growing in the sky as the sun begins its descent beneath the horizon.
Your cousins make a mad dash for the house once they're within leaping distance of the dock, and you let out an exasperated sigh when you realize it's just you and your uncle left on the boat. You know exactly what that means—all the work's been left to you.
He grins at you. "You remember how to tie her to the dock, don't you?" As if this hasn't been your job on-and-off for the last ten years.
You offer a faint smile in response, but you keep yourself from saying anything negative while you pull out the ropes from beneath the seats, tying them into the knots you know from memory around the poles on the dock. You don't want to complain in front of your uncle—he's never been anything less than kind to you, especially letting you stay at his house this summer out of nowhere when you told him you needed a place to stay for a while, even when it's been over five years since your last summer here. No questions asked, although you're sure he's curious.
You might tell him the truth. Eventually.
His voice suddenly interrupts the stream of thoughts in your mind. "If you've got it covered, I'm gonna head inside and start on dinner."
You nod absentmindedly, tucking the last rope into the beginning of its knot. "What are we eating?"
He smiles at you. "Guess you'd better hurry up and find out."
You roll your eyes at him, but in your sudden rush to finish the knot, you don't complete it nearly as tightly as you should—and you can already feel the boat drifting to one side from the loose knot.
You sigh at your own impatience, but you start the knot over again anyway, pulling on the other ropes to line the boat up with the side of the dock again before you start, checking the angle into the water to make sure it'll be as close to perfect as possible so you can hurry up and go inside, and it's then that you see it.
There's a face in the water—and it isn't yours.
No. You're seeing things. After a long day in the sun, you know it's not unheard of for your eyes to play tricks on you looking into the water. You draw your focus back to completing the knot, shaking the unusual thoughts out of your head of what you know you couldn't have possibly seen.
When the knot's finally complete, you cast your gaze into the water beside the boat one final time—and you realize, in stunned horror, that you'd been right before. There is a face, a face you can just barely see in the water as you peer over the edge of the dock—and it isn't your reflection. No, the angles of the jawline, the cheekbones, the chin are all far too sharp and precise to be yours. To be human.
He blinks up at you, far too innocently for someone—something that has been holding its breath underwater for at least the past five minutes.
You don't know how long the two of you stare at each other. It could be minutes, hours—you really aren't sure. You're finding yourself practically lost in the eyes of the being before you, dark and abysmal and inviting all at the same time—this, you imagine, must be what drowning feels like. Completely helpless.
It's then that you realize your ankles are touching the water. That's strange—you'd been sitting atop the dock just a moment ago. When did you get in the water?
You feel as if you've just awoken from a dream. You don't know how you've gotten here so suddenly, but you've definitely moved—you've turned around to face the dock, and your arms are the only thing keeping you above the water, your legs submerged up to your knees.
You quickly scramble back out of the water and heave your body back onto the dock, making sure all your limbs are still attached before staring back into the bay beneath you, looking for that face beneath the water again—but it's gone. Whatever it was has completely vanished, leaving nothing but the soft lapping of the waves against the shore in its wake.
Your mind races to find an explanation. You've been in the sun for hours. You must not have had much sleep last night. Your cousins are driving you insane and they've finally pushed you past the brink. One of those, surely, has to be the answer for whatever the hell you've just seen.
It's all you can think about during dinner—you hardly touch the clam chowder your uncle had prepared. He notices the small helping you've poured for yourself when you sit down at the table, and you see him frown out of the corner of your eye. "Feeling alright, Y/N?"
You nod quickly. Too quickly. "I'm fine. Think I might've been out in the sun for too long today—I'll probably just get some water after dinner and head to bed."
He nods, visibly relaxing at your words. "Ah. That certainly can happen—I saw far too many colleagues faint back in the day after a long shift. It's brutal, that sun. That reminds me of one particular instance, actually—couldn't have been less than twenty years ago, I'll bet, when..."
He launches into another fishing anecdote, much to the delight of your cousins, while you continue to mentally spiral for the duration of dinner, locked in your own thoughts and what you know you couldn't have possibly seen. Your behavior, however, means your uncle doesn't mind at all when you go up to your room early—and when night finally falls and everyone else has gone to bed, no one notices you creeping back downstairs, either.
You have to know. You'll never be able to go to sleep tonight if you can't confirm whatever the hell you saw in the water earlier.
Your stomach interrupts your thoughts, piercing the quiet living room with an unfortunate grumble.
"Shit," you swear softly to yourself. You're hungry—it's no wonder. You barely ate dinner, and you only picked at a few snacks on the boat earlier. It certainly won't assuage your fears if you scare away whatever that thing was if your stomach growls the minute you step outside.
You quickly grab the first thing your eyes land on out of the first shelf in the refrigator—an apple, before finally striding over to the door and making your way back outside as quietly and nimbly as you can.
You practically run back to the edge of the dock, peering into the inky blackness of the water illuminated simply by the moonlight, only to find your own reflection staring back at you. There's nothing.
And you want to be reassured by that fact. You had to have been seeing things earlier, then—a result of the afternoon spent under the blistering sun, doing things to your eyes and your mind, and yet—
You have to check. You'll just dip a toe in, maybe—you're already barefoot, anyway. Nothing bites at your toe when you do, sitting down at the edge of the dock and letting the waves lap at your skin.
Well. You suppose to be really sure, you'll have to get in the water. It feels much better now than it did earlier today, you think as you lower yourself in up to your waist, still holding onto the dock with one hand, apple in the other. You don't remember the water ever feeling this good—this inviting. You wonder what it would feel like to go all the way up to your neck. Maybe even to go all the way underwater, to feel it enveloping every inch.
That last thought particularly entices you, so you let go of the dock, holding your hand (and the apple) above the water while you submerge the rest of your body beneath the waves. You wonder how long you can hold your breath underwater. Does it even matter, though? It wouldn't be so bad to stay here like this forever—
"...What is this?"
You're broken out of your thoughts by a muffled voice above you, piercing the silence and suddenly reminding you how long you've been underwater. Panic sets in almost immediately as you kick toward the surface, gasping for breath when your head breaches the waves again, breathing in sweet, fresh air as your arms attempt to tread water.
Well—arm. Singular. Someone else is holding on to your other arm, you realize far too late—the arm that's currently clutching that poor, stupid apple. A hand is wrapped around your wrist, and you feel dread sinking through your chest when your eyes follow the hand back to its owner. Perhaps that dread is why you aren't at all surprised when you once again lock eyes with the creature from earlier, this time his head and chest above water.
He looks at your sputtering form, unsurprised, before turning back to stare at the apple in your hand, head tilting to the side. "What is this?" you hear him repeat. His voice is incredibly raspy—as if he hasn't used it in years.
His lack of recognition towards you is almost irritating—as if he's disappointed that you exist. "...What?" you finally ask.
He brings another hand out of the water to tap at the apple. "This," he says. "I don't know what this is. Tell me."
You're still struggling for breath. "I...I'll tell you what it is if you let me back onto the dock."
He turns back to face you—quickly, head shifting far too quickly for something human. "No," he says, grip on your wrist unrelenting. "Tell me what it is."
Shit. "It's an apple," you say, frustration suddenly blooming in your chest. You're going to die because of an apple. Because you couldn't be bothered to eat your uncle's clam chowder for dinner. What the hell is wrong with you? If you ever get out of this, you swear on every god listening that you'll eat second helpings of every meal that man makes for the rest of your life. "You eat it."
Apparently you eat it to this creature means you can eat it—because he's lunging forward suddenly, bringing his teeth that look much more like that of a shark's than like the teeth in your own mouth onto the apple in your palm, tearing away a bite and swallowing it whole. God, you hope you aren't about to meet the same fate.
He makes a face, turning to look at you. "It's weird."
You heave a sigh. This is insane, you think. Maybe you really did lose your mind earlier on the boat—it's all your cousins' fault. Has to be. Hearing that constant, nonstop chatter about the overseas vacation they just went on (their third this year alone), and the toys the twins got for their birthdays, and the teacher at school they really don't like, has finally made you snap. "I don't know what to tell you," you say. "You said you'd never had it before. And you're stealing—I was going to eat that."
He lets go of your wrist from his damp grasp. "Hmm. You can have the rest of it, I guess."
He has let go of you. Every logical nerve in your body is screaming at you to start swimming, to pedal back up to the dock as fast as you can and scream for your uncle—but you don't. He let go of you. He had just wanted the apple.
You stare at him. You'd been right before—every feature of his is far too sharp to be human. The edge of his nose, the line of his jaw, the angles of his cheekbones—everything except his eyes. They're dark, as dark as the night sky behind you, but they're soft. They hold none of the sharpness of what you can see of the rest of his body.
You think back to the beginning of the day—to the stories of the fish-men your uncle had tried to spook your cousins with as you drove around the inlet. Damn him to hell—he was right.
You aren't sure who you're angrier at—him, for being correct about something so utterly insane, or you, for not being smart enough to realize he was telling the truth.
The creature in the water notices you staring at him. He blinks at you, tilting his head to the side. His gaze hasn't left you for a single instant, but there's something else spreading across his face now, tugging up the side of his lips in a faint smile.
"You aren't afraid," he says now, the rasp in his voice gradually beginning to ebb away.
You notice him watching your arms treading water now, apple bobbing beside you, but you don't say anything about it. You also don't say anything about how he isn't treading water but is still staying perfectly afloat—something else is propelling him to stay upright. And you think you may have an idea of what it is. "I...I don't know. I don't think so," is the only thing you can offer in response. "I don't know what you are."
He thinks for a moment. "A...a siren was what your people called us the last time we went to the surface."
A siren. You'll admit you didn't always pay constant attention in school, especially reading the Odyssey nearly three years ago, but you have a clear enough recollection of what these creatures were. Their entire purpose was to lure sailors to their deaths with their charms, wrecking their ships with a few words of a song.
"We couldn't come up to the surface very often then," he adds thoughtfully, remembering. "Too much of that black smoke in the air. That's what my father said, anyway."
Black smoke? You're confused for a moment before it dawns on you—you distinctly remember your uncle telling you that the railroad used to lie almost perfectly adjacent to the bay his house now resides on, back in the day before they'd decided to reroute the tracks to make room for the neighborhoods they were building. And if the trains the siren in front of you remembers were still billowing out black smoke...
Christ, how old is he, anyway?
"I'm supposed to drown you," he says plainly.
You furrow your brow at him. "You can try, I guess. I used to be pretty good at swimming."
He laughs at that too. The sound of his laugh is unbearably musical—light and gentle and not at all comparable to the rasp his voice had been at first, nor is it fitting for a creature who had just said he was here to kill you. "I almost did. That's how you ended up in the water—don't you see?"
Oh. Fuck. He must have been in your head, practically—convincing you to get in the water. It's what'd he done earlier in the day too, you realize—when you'd gotten in all the way up to your ankles without realizing. "How...how'd you do that?"
He shrugs. "I just hum. Some of my brothers are good at singing, but I think humming does the same thing at a much quieter rate. Harder to get caught that way."
"Does that happen to you often?" you ask. "Getting caught?"
He seems to ponder that for a moment. "No. I...I didn't have any plans on telling you this, but I've never actually drowned anyone before. You've been my first attempt."
You scoff at that. "I guess you're not a very good siren, then."
He stares at you, and you wonder for a split second if you've just made a fatal mistake by running your mouth, like you always do—but the edges of his lips quirk up in a strange smile. "That's not all we do, you know. We were the record-keepers of the ocean, back in the days before that fool Homer decided to only focus on our...occasional people-drowning habits. Once you become known for something, no one really cares what you used to do."
You blink at him. "Sorry, I...are you trying to make me feel bad for you? After you tried to drown me?"
His smile widens. "But I didn't drown you! I decided not to. Because I wanted to know what that was in your hand." He looks down at the apple bobbing in the water between the two of you. "Do you have anything else like this?"
You let out an incredulous laugh. "Why? Do you want to go through all the fruit in our fridge and take a single bite out of each one?"
He cocks his head slightly at you. "Why would I do that?"
Because it's what you just did, you want to yell at him—but you don't. Some semblance of common sense must be returning to you, now that you know you aren't in mortal danger.
He continues anyway. "I want to go back to our record-keeping ways. I like learning things. I've never spoken to a human before now—I've already learned so much. I know what an apple is. I know how easy it is to tell you to drown yourself."
You try to ignore the way your blood freezes cold for an instant at that last comment—and the way he gives you a knowing look after it leaves his lips. You think you may have a better understanding of what your situation is, now. "So you decided not to drown me because you wanted to know about the apple. You...you're only going to keep me alive if I keep bringing you things that you find interesting?"
But he shakes his head no. "You can go back up to the land now. I won't stop you. I was just suggesting that you'd think about doing me a favor, since I did one for you."
Deciding not to drown me isn't much of a favor—but you keep that to yourself. "You really wouldn't stop me if I went back up the dock? If I never set foot in the water again? Won't you...I don't know, get in trouble with the siren police or whoever you answer to?"
A bemused expression flashes across his face. "No, I don't answer to anyone. We used to travel in packs—and I think some still do, especially in the southern sects of the Pacific, but most of us are solitary, now. I do whatever I want."
“Must be nice," you reply before you can think to stop yourself.
He frowns a little at that. "What do you mean? You're the masters of the world as we know it, aren't you?" There may be a little edge of mocking at the end of that sentence, but neither of you comment on it.
Instead, you take one arm out of the water briefly to try to wave your words away, accidentally flicking a few drops of water on his face—but he doesn't even flinch. "Look—I shouldn't have said that,” you say.
"Who could possibly be telling you what to do?" he asks again. "I'm serious."
Now you do let a small laugh pass your lips. "You'd be surprised."
He just blinks. "Surprise me, then."
He did say he liked to learn. "Listen, I can't—" You cut off your own sentence when you see a light on the second story window flick on out of your peripheral vision. Shit. "I've got to go."
He casts his gaze upwards to the soft light emanating from the house. "I see," you hear him say as you plant your elbows on the edge of the dock, hauling your body back up to the wooden surface. Once you're out of the water, a sudden thought occurs to you—you never even asked the siren for his name.
Who cares? a voice in your head cries out. Your conscience, most likely—whatever scraps of common sense you have left. That thing was going to drown you. You don't need his name; you're never going to see him again.
Well—that you aren't entirely sure of, even if you may not be completely prepared to admit it. As much as you had apparently intrigued him, he had certainly kept your interest too. For crying out loud—he's a goddamn siren. How often did you get to have a sit-down conversation with a sea creature you had been perfectly convinced wasn't real an hour ago?
Even more intriguing, you think, was that air of freedom about him. I do whatever I want, he'd said. You can't imagine the last time anything like that left your mouth—or if anything like it ever had. You're drawn to that feeling of freedom—either out of jealousy or a desire to live vicariously through it, you aren't sure. But you do want to experience it again.
So you turn back around, the question of his name on the tip of your tongue—but it never gets any further. By the time you're looking back into the water below you, he's gone. Had you imagined the entire thing all along, you wonder for a brief instant?
But that thought shatters when you hear a splash to your right, at the very edge of the canal before it opens back up into the ocean, and you see the edge of a long, blue tail flicker in the moonlight before it disappears below the surface.
You let out a short laugh of disbelief at the sight. And the small smile that lingers on your lips—even as you hurry back towards the house, open the back door as quietly as possible, hurry back upstairs, throw your wet clothes in the bathroom, and jump back in your bed in a fresh pair of pajamas—doesn't fade away for quite some time.
Three days pass before you see him again.
You'd run out to the dock three nights in a row after everyone in the house had fallen asleep, peering into the water only to be met with the ripples of your own reflection staring back up at you. Disappointed, you had trudged back to the back porch and snuck back up to your room, lingering confusions about that damn siren swirling around in your head. You won't go check again tomorrow night. That entire meeting with him was apparently a one-time thing. It was a miracle that he'd let you live, anyway—a miracle that you aren't ever supposed to see again.
You still find yourself padding down to the dock on the fourth night—and this time, you aren't alone.
There's an apple sitting on the very last wooden plank on the end of the dock, water dripping off the edge and forming a small puddle around it. You almost let out a laugh at the sight, but it's swallowed by the yelp you accidentally let out when the siren's head emerges suddenly from beneath the surface. He stares at you, unblinking as he hauls his forearms onto the edge of the dock, propelling himself forward to look up at you.
"You're surprised," he says.
You take a breath to calm yourself before speaking. "You're observant."
He blinks once. Twice. "That's for you," he says, gesturing towards the singular fruit on the last plank of wood. "Since I ate the other one."
You look down at the apple, deciding you're safer not asking where he got this one—and then you look lower, peering down off the edge. The siren has pulled himself up to rest against the dock, which means he's only about halfway submerged into the water now. You see his arms, crossed on top of each other to support him resting on top of the dock. You see his chest, his abdomen, droplets of water still rolling down the toned muscles. And you swallow the gasp that threatens to escape you when you finally lock eyes on the dark blue tail that begins past his waist, swishing back and forth as it glistens with every beam of moonlight it reflects.
If he knows the cause of your sudden amazement, he doesn't say anything about it. Instead, he speaks again. "I wasn't sure if you'd be back."
You manage to pull your eyes back up towards his. "I, um...I realized I never got your name the other night. I figured you didn't just go by 'siren.'"
He smirks. "No, I don't. But I've never had to say it out loud before, like this." He thinks about it for a moment. "Hongjoong."
Hongjoong. "Hongjoong," you repeat.
You aren't sure if it's the moonlight playing tricks on you, or if his cheeks really do twinge a shade pink at the repetition from your lips. "What's yours?"
Now it's your turn to smirk a little. "You won't, like...gain some kind of terrible power over me once you know my name, right?" You think you remember reading about the fae having that kind of ability in school, but that was ages ago. And at the time, you didn't think you'd ever need to remember information about creatures you were certain didn't exist.
The siren—Hongjoong—shakes his head. "Not that I know of. I can look into it in our historical records though, if you'd like."
You shake your head quickly. Probably better off not knowing.
But you do tell him your name, and he smiles too. "Pretty," he says, and you think you understand how someone like him could talk someone like you into walking off a boat—but the thought doesn't scare you the way it might have the other night. He's so beautiful, you're realizing—almost impossibly so. To hear him say he thinks you're pretty, or at least your name is, almost makes you want to laugh.
Hongjoong pulls you out of your thoughts when he taps the space on the dock next to the apple with one hand. "Well? Are you going to take it?"
Oh. "Oh!" you say, bending over to pick up the fruit. "Sure. Thank you for bringing this to me—" and then, before you can stop yourself from the most sudden and peculiar act of boldness in your entire life so far— "do you...I don't know, want anything in return for it?"
He seems taken aback by your proposition at first, but only a moment passes before that soft, self-assured grin appears across his features again. "What would you want to give me?"
Christ. Why did you say that? "Well—um..." You glance down at your shoes with wet sand still caked to the sides, the green charm on the end of one shoelace, the fraying ends of the jacket you'd hastily pulled over your shoulders before walking outside tonight, before you see—
You quickly work it off of your wrist and hand it over to him. "Here," you say, sitting down at the dock's edge and handing Hongjoong the bracelet you've been wearing since you came to your uncle's house this summer. "You can keep it."
Hongjoong takes the bracelet delicately from your outstretched hand. He peers at it in the moonlight. "What is it?"
"It's a bracelet," you explain. "You can just wear it on your wrist for decoration—it doesn't have to mean anything. This one, um...it was actually from my parents, but believe me—it doesn't mean anything," you finish, trying (and failing) not to let that all-too-familiar drip of malicious venom back into your voice at the mention of the people who raised you. Who bought you this bracelet—a week-late birthday gift from your mother who had missed it while she was on a 'girls trip' in Italy. And yet, you still turned out like this—
Hongjoong continues studying the bracelet, poring over each individual charm. If he notices your attitude about your parents, he doesn't say anything—but after that first conversation you'd had with him, you think he may understand what you mean anyway.
The silence is starting to make you drowsy, so you move to stand back up. "Look, Hongjoong, I'd better head back. It's late. Will I, um—" Why does he make you so nervous now? "Will I see—"
"What are you bringing next time?" Hongjoong interrupts.
You blink. "What?"
He taps the bracelet with one finger. "I'll bring something else the next time I see you, if you bring something too."
He had said he liked to learn. "Okay," you say. There's a sudden warmth in your chest at the thought of seeing him again, even despite the cool breeze suddenly drifting off from the sea. "When will you be back?"
Hongjoong tilts his head to one side, thinking. "The next half moon. It should be in a few nights. I'll need time to find something good for you," he says, grinning.
You can't fight the grin that tugs at your own lips. "I'll be here, then."
You think about how the first two weeks of your summer had dragged by. Every day had felt like an unending loop of babysitting your cousins while your uncle went to work, of making an effort to laugh at said uncle's intentionally not-funny jokes, of picking up groceries and running errands and getting lost in the monotony of the mundane—but the second half of your summer is the complete opposite.
Going out and meeting Hongjoong by the end of the dock goes from a once a week occurrence to a nightly routine. And it doesn't stop at just bringing each other different little trinkets and knick-knacks and snacks that you find—you and Hongjoong both discover that you're better conversationalists than you'd previously thought. The two of you find yourself talking for hours about anything you can think of; you learn that Hongjoong's family is several times larger than yours, and that sirens swim further south when the water gets cold in the winter ("the same as everything else in the sea with any sense," he points out). And you tell Hongjoong about you, about all the summers you spent here with your older siblings when you were all still children, about the nights you snuck out with them and went to the gas station for ice cream—both of you hanging on each other's every word.
You find yourself looking forward to seeing him all day. You're in far better spirits than you were at the beginning of the summer, your uncle teases on several occasions, but you can't find it in yourself to be bothered.
You probably could try to make it slightly less obvious, though. After nearly a month of spending almost all your nights with Hongjoong, you find yourself one midsummer day back on the pontoon boat with your cousins and uncle, looking for an island to go for a picnic on—just like you had been that day you'd first seen him. You still keep to yourself on the bow of the boat the same way you did at the beginning of the summer, but your thoughts are full of nothing but the siren, now. You'd found an unfinished scrapbook of you and your siblings from years ago in your uncle's garage last night, and you're practically beaming at the thought of showing it to Hongjoong tonight. You wonder if he'll be able to pick out which one is you in the photos if you don't tell him. Maybe you'll—
"There's something in the water!" one of your cousins cries out, pointing towards the right side of the boat.
You practically shoot out of your seat. "Where?" you ask, rushing over to her side of the boat.
She blinks up at you, caught off-guard by your sudden enthusiasm. "Um...right next to the boat." She points again with a shrug. "There was a face, but it's gone now. I swear I'm telling the truth."
You nod, giving her a knowing grin. "I believe you."
Her eyes widen, a smile growing across her own features. "You do?"
Your uncle laughs from the wheel of the boat behind you. "You mean your reflection, bub?"
Your cousin shakes her head quickly. "No, it wasn't. It was something else, I know it."
Your uncle looks back and forth between the two of you, landing his gaze firmly on you. "Well—if you see anything else, you just let me know. It's almost the end of the summer, you know," he points out. "I've kept you all under my watch this long—I don't want anything to happen to either of you."
The little girl next to you nods before going back to her seat with the rest of your cousins, but you stay planted at the side of the boat for a while with them.
It's almost the end of the summer, you know.
What's been wrong with you for the last several weeks? Befriending a siren, of all things—where did you think that was going to go? Did you think you'd get to pack him up in your suitcase with everything else and take him home? Stupid, you think—you've been completely, utterly stupid. It's the only explanation for it.
No—that isn't entirely true, either. You may have been foolish, thinking you could keep a friendship with a siren, but that wasn't the only place those feelings were coming from. You've been distracting yourself, you realize now. You're trying to run, still—from the very same thing that led you to stay with your uncle this summer for the first time in years.
Maybe you've had your fill of running. It may be time to try facing the thing you've been avoiding all summer before it's too late—which is how you find yourself alone in the kitchen later that night, holding on to your uncle's home phone with one hand while you read her number to yourself off of your own phone (you're fairly certain she won't answer if she recognizes your number on her caller ID).
You almost hesitate before punching in the last number to dial and sealing your fate, but your uncle's words float back to you again. It's almost the end of the summer. What do you have to lose now, anyway?
You finish dialing the number.
She picks up on the fourth ring. "Hello?" She sounds slightly out of breath, as if she'd ran to catch the phone before it stopped ringing. The thought gives you a momentary sense of hope—maybe she won't hang up on you immediately once she realizes who's calling.
You take a deep breath before answering. "Hi, Mom," you say, slowly. "It's me."
She's silent for a long, long time—but she doesn't hang up. "...Oh," is the first thing your mother says. "I thought this was your uncle calling." You hear her take a breath, hesitating on saying what you know she's about to say. "I guess that's why you called from his phone, huh?"
You know there's no point answering that. "Mom, I...I wanted to talk to you, since the summer's almost over. I thought we could possibly talk about, um...about me staying at home for a little bit before school starts—or maybe coming home during winter break."
There's another long period of silence—and like the fool you are, you allow yourself to hope, for a brief moment, that she won't say exactly what you've known she was going to say the minute you dialed her number. "Hmm...no, Y/N, I don't really think that's a good idea." Your heart sinks, but she continues to push the dagger (that you practically handed her by making this call) further into your chest. "You know what—it's not really a good time right now, anyway. I'll talk to you some other time, alright?"
"Listen, Mom, I'm—"
Click.
She's hung up.
You told yourself earlier you wouldn't cry if she did this (you knew she was going to). And yet—you still can't fight those tears brimming at the edge of your eyelids, threatening to spill over. As you try to blink them away, your gaze is drawn towards the back window—towards the head of blue hair you can just barely see at the end of the dock, waiting expectantly for you already.
God. You cannot talk to Hongjoong right now—but you can't just blow him off entirely, either. You'll make something up, tell him you've gotten sick and can't see him for a few days, and hope he'll just forget about you and find some other human to trade apples for bracelets with.
You pad as quickly as you can down the end of the beach to the dock, peering over the edge to see Hongjoong's dark eyes looking up at you. "I can't talk tonight," you say sharply. "I'm sorry."
Hongjoong frowns. "What's wrong? Did you forget to bring something? It's okay, you know. I don't mind just talking to you. If you want."
Of course that's what he's concerned about. "No," you say, somewhat shakily. "I just can't, alright?"
You move to turn around, but the siren is a step ahead of you like always. He lunges forward onto the dock, grabbing ahold of your ankle with a strength you hadn't known he'd had. You think, for a moment, that if he had really wanted to drown you that day—he could have. "That's not good enough," he replies firmly, but his gaze softens the minute he sees your face closer. "I want to know what's wrong. Please."
It doesn't take much pleading from him for you to succumb to his wishes, so you relent, turning back around and sitting down on the edge of the dock. Hongjoong props himself up with his forearms before pushing the rest of his body up onto the dock, sitting upright and facing the sea beside you, just like you—something he's never done before. Only the last few scales on the edge of his tail just barely brush the water. "Tell me," he asks again, gentler this time.
So you do.
"It's my mother," you tell him, slowly. "Both my parents, really—they planned out me and my brothers' lives from the moment we were born. We were all supposed to be doctors, or lawyers, or scientists—something to make a ridiculous amount of money for them, just like they did for their parents. It was the only way to make them proud. They sent us to private schools and paid for expensive tutoring for years to ensure it, and they only spoke to us when we did well. They didn't want children—they wanted trophies. Things they could show off to their friends who were just as selfish and conceited as them. And they got them with my brothers—they did exactly what they were supposed to. Graduated law school or got their doctorates or PhDs, and now do nothing except work and get filthy rich. I'm the last one to fulfill what my parents had planned out for us. But I guess things don't always work out the way you planned," you add, somewhat bitterly.
Hongjoong keeps his gaze fixed on you. "No," he says, as gently as the water lapping at your ankles. "They don't. And...you don't want to do what they want you to."
You nod. "That's right. I don't. I think I should get a choice in what I make of my life, not slaving away forever at something someone else picked out for me. To do something of my own volition. And I told them so—and they told me I'd be on my own, forever, because of it."
"What do you want, then?" he asks.
You feel tears brushing against the edges of your eyelashes again. "It doesn't matter," you say, trying to keep your voice as steady as you can. "I'm screwed as it is. I have enough money saved for this semester of college, but they've cut me off entirely. I tried to call and make an attempt to patch things up tonight, but she wouldn't even listen to me. I'll be coming here every other semester to work, save up for the next semester, and stay with my uncle. I'm extremely grateful to at least have him on my side, to have someone who will allow me to stay with them—but I don't know if I'll ever get to see my parents or my brothers again. And I knew that would happen," you admit, voice definitely shaking now.
"I knew that was the choice I was making when I told them I didn't want to just be a stupid trophy for them to display, that I wanted to make something worthwhile, that I deemed worthwhile with my life. I knew it wouldn't be easy and that I was taking the harder route, but I thought I'd be able to just cut ties with them. Go no contact, and all that, but it...it's hard, Hongjoong," you tell him, tears rolling down your cheeks. "So fucking hard. And it's so stupid. Even after all this, after she's told me she doesn't want anything to do with me, now that I've chosen to 'waste my life away' and she 'doesn't know who I am anymore—' I still care what she thinks of me, for some stupid reason. She's still my mother—God, what am I supposed to do?"
Hongjoong turns to you almost instantly, cupping your face in both hands, and the sudden touch alone almost makes your tears stop falling. "Nothing stops the flow of the sea," he says, quietly. You want to move your gaze, to move your head away so your eyes aren't locked onto Hongjoong's so intensely, but he keeps you there anyway. "You just have to keep moving through it. With it. I think it's the same with your mother. It won't immediately be better tomorrow, just like how the sea isn't immediately perfectly calm after a typhoon—but it will be better, eventually. A little bit every day, as the waves return back to their normal rolling patterns."
"You don't think it's stupid?" you ask, quietly. "That I'm still so desperate to hold on to my mother, even if she's practically already thrown me away?"
Hongjoong shrugs. "Nonsensical, maybe. But not stupid. I don't think there's anything stupid about reaching out for someone who's taken care of you. My family has always been spread across the oceans—no matter where I go, it seems, I can find someone. I think it would be a much harder life if I was told none of them wanted to see me ever again. I'd feel stranded. And I haven't lived the same life as you, so I don't know what the exact circumstances are like, but I don't think it's a stupid aspiration. Just slightly nonsensical—but I think I'm realizing that a lot of things you do—that humans do," he corrects, "are that way."
That makes you laugh, even as his words settle into your ears and you begin to feel a kind of lightness in your chest. His world is so different from yours, you think. You're almost jealous of it, in a way.
And still, when he says things will be easier, eventually—you believe him.
"What is it that you want with your life?" he asks.
You laugh a little again. "It's cliché."
Hongjoong doesn't hesitate. "How would I know what your clichés are?" His hands are still firmly cupped against your cheeks.
Now the smile that ghosts across your face is real. Genuine. "Art," you say, quietly—as if you're afraid of admitting the truth even to him. "I love drawing—always have. It's all I've ever wanted to do. It used to be my escape when I came here in the summers with my family; I'd sneak away from everyone and paint on the beach for hours until my uncle would call for dinner. I begged for paint sets as a kid for birthday presents—even stole a set of charcoal pencils from the art room in middle school once. The teacher let me keep them even after finding out," you add, laughing a little. You bare your soul to Hongjoong, the parts of you that you've tried to squash for years but have failed to completely erase—like charcoal marks on a piece of paper that just won't quite go away.
He seems to ponder this for a moment. "Could you draw me?"
You laugh, feeling like a dam of relief is beginning to break within within you. He knows what has practically been your deepest, darkest secret for your entire life, and he doesn't want to shun you forever for it. "You know, I've always heard that's the one thing you aren't supposed to ask an artist."
Hongjoong blinks. "I didn't know that." There's only a single beat of silence before he asks, "Can you draw me anyway?"
"It won't be very good," you say with a shrug, smirk still tugging at the corners of your mouth. "I've never been very good at portraits. Landscapes and still life are easier for me."
He moves one hand to wrap around your wrist. "Try anyway."
The tenderness of the action coupled with his words—blunt as always, but reassuring in a way you've never known from him, never known from anyone—is enough to cause tears to prickle at the corners of your eyes again.
This time, Hongjoong notices, moving his free hand up your cheek to gently brush them away before they ever have a chance to cascade past your lashes. You see him sniff once, then look back up at you—realization dawning on his face.
"Salt," Hongjoong whispers in awe. "There's a piece of the sea in you, too."
That dam inside you breaks.
You meet his eyes, dark as the bottom of the ocean—feel the cool grip of his hand wrapped around your wrist and his fingers resting gently on your cheek, and you feel the pull towards him like the magnetism of the Earth's core.
When your lips land on his, it doesn't surprise either of you. It's a chaste, careful kiss at first. Hongjoong takes only a moment to breathe, forehead touching yours so lightly you almost wouldn't know he was there, before pulling you back to him and pressing his lips against yours again.
You've never experienced anything like it before—the tenderness of his hands on your skin, the softness of his lips on yours, his warm breath skating across your jaw. It's like he's everywhere, taking over every sensation—but not at all like that first time he had met you and influenced your thoughts. You feel fully in control right now. You're the one who's let him in.
If this is what drowning feels like, you think, you'd never complain.
You taste salt on your lips when you wake in the morning, and the sensation immediately sends a flurry of butterflies through your chest. A smile tugs at your mouth before you can even think to hide it from yourself.
Had last night even been real? Hongjoong reassuring you, kissing you so gently that you thought you might melt right into the water below the two of you—God, how could it not have been real? You could never have dreamed something like it.
If your uncle and cousins notice your uncharacteristically chipper mood at breakfast, a stark contrast to your melancholy behavior at dinner the night before, they don't say anything—but your uncle does look surprised when you offer to help load the cooler and towels onto the boat for the day.
"I've enjoyed having you here for the summer," your uncle tells you later that afternoon, when you've dropped anchor on a nearby island and your cousins are eating their lunches peacefully—the only time of the day you find that they're quiet. "Reminded me of the old days, with your brothers. It's been good to have you here."
You smile at him. "I've enjoyed being here," you admit, even if he doesn't know all the reasons why. "Thank you for letting me stay the summer. I really, um...really appreciate knowing there's someone who has my back."
His eyes crinkle in a soft smile. "Listen, Y/N. I know it's hasn't been easy after what happened with your mother—I don't know the whole story, but I'm not old and senile enough yet to not know something's up. But you'll always have a place to stay here. I want you to know that."
Your heart jumps. "Thank you, Uncle," you say. "You've always gone out of your way to make this feel like home for me, and you did the same when my brothers were here too. I can never thank you enough for that. And I—"
He just waves your words away. "That's what family does, you know? I've always felt like a bit of a black sheep living out here—compared to my sister, anyway. She always had big plans for all of you. But I've wanted this to feel like a good place for you, and your brothers, and now your cousins too—no matter what. Even when you all would sneak out for late-night gas station runs back in the day...or whatever it is you're doing now," your uncle adds, pointedly.
Your stomach twists. "I've...been taking moonlit strolls. It's helped me relax, with everything going on."
He doesn't seem convinced, however. "Honey...you know, you can always—"
But he's interrupted by one of your cousins shouting. "Jay won't give me the binoculars back!"
Your uncle frowns. "Jay, let your sister have a turn. Only fair, you know."
Jay crosses his arms, tucking the binoculars under one elbow. "No way! Every time Bianca uses these, she keeps telling me she sees somebody staring at her in the water."
Bianca scowls, lunging for him. "And I did! Just because you didn't see him doesn't mean I didn't."
Him.
After what your uncle had just said about your moonlit strolls, you restrain yourself from running over to the edge of the boat immediately like the other day—but your eyes still scan over the water ahead of you hurriedly.
You can see your uncle's gaze flicker back to you out of the corner of your eye, hesitating for a moment too long, before turning his attention back to the twins. "You guys have seen more stuff on the horizon in the past month than I saw in twenty years on the sea," he quips, forcing a tight laugh. "Might need to get you kids back to living in the city soon if you're seeing this many things in the water—not everyone's made for the sea life," he adds.
The knot of worry tightens itself a little tighter in your gut, and not for the last time this summer.
You still smuggle your sketchbook down to the pier once night falls, slipping out the back door with it tucked securely under your arm.
Hongjoong, of course, is waiting expectantly for you, peering up at you from the edge of the dock. "Is that for drawing?" he asks, and you can hear the twinge of excitement in his voice.
Your heart does a little backflip in your chest. "Yes," you admit, a little more sheepishly than you'd meant to. "Do you know how you want to pose for it?"
He thinks for a moment. "Can I sit up here with you? I want to be close to you for it."
Oh—now there are serious acrobatics going on within your chest. "Sure," you say, grinning as you sit on the far edge and watch him scoot up to sit beside you, leaning on the support beam at the very edge of the dock.
You gaze at him for a moment after flipping open your sketchbook and finding an empty page. His tail practically shines in the darkness around the two of you, moonlight reflecting off of each dark blue scale. His torso looks practically sculpted by the gods—arms and chest full of just as much unearthly beauty as his face, jawline sharper than the tip of the pencil you're sketching him with.
Not for the first time, you think to yourself how beautiful he is.
Hongjoong's cheeks turn the fairest shade of pink as you continue to stare at him, but he doesn't say a word as you begin your initial sketch. You find it slightly difficult to get the right shape of the tail flicking against the edge of the water beneath you. "Can I ask you a question?" you say instead, putting down your pencil for a moment.
Hongjoong blinks. "You've asked me questions for weeks, now."
You laugh. "This is a different one. I...I think one of my cousins saw something in the water today. When we were on my uncle's pontoon boat. Any chance you might know something about that?"
His cheeks turn pinker than before, but he doesn't flinch. "I suppose I might."
You can't bite back a grin. "Are you...following me, Hongjoong?"
Hongjoong frowns a little. "I wouldn't call it that. I've...just been in the area. Keeping an eye on things. Not just you."
"Just at the same time as me."
"Right," he says, clearly relieved. "Exactly."
Your grin widens.
Hongjoong points at your sketchpad. "Are you finished with the drawing?"
You laugh a little, picking your pencil back up from beside you on the dock. "No, not even close. I've never drawn anything like you before—but I love a good challenge."
He seems somewhat pleased with this admission. "Will you show it to me once it's done?"
“Of course," you tell him, and he beams. That smile—God. You only hope you can put even a fraction of the way it makes you feel back onto the paper in your palms.
Your uncle corners you in the kitchen after breakfast the next morning. You feel yourself panicking inwardly at first, thinking he's going to continue pressing you on your "moonlit strolls" conversation from yesterday—but he just informs you that he's planning on a big seafood broil for dinner tomorrow night, as a send-off for the summer. And more importantly, he wants you to pick up a few pounds of shrimp from the seafood store in town today.
It's been a while since you ventured that far back into town—God, probably since the very first week of summer. And now your uncle is preparing a feast for the end of the season. You've never known time could pass you by this quickly.
That thought lingers as you ride your uncle's bike down the boardwalk and across the bridge, gradually making your way onto the mainland. You've put off thinking about what will happen once the summer comes to a close since that night you called your mother—but it's an inevitable fact that you'll have to leave, obviously sooner than you think. How can you even begin to bring that up to Hongjoong? Does he know, already, somehow? Will he be disappointed that he can't obtain any more knowledge from you and dip back into the sea, never to be seen again?
Your racing mind quiets somewhat when you realize you've made it to the seafood store—or shack, as it's always been affectionately known. You gaze for a moment at the neon sign outside, realizing that "THE CRAB SHACK" only has a few lights that actually work. "T E CR B S H C K" is what the sign displays now.
You remember that the lights didn't work when you were here years ago, either. The whole bottom row of neon was always out, meaning that the sign only read "T E CRB." You wonder if there's a meaning in that—that the sign was broken then and broken now, just showing it in different ways.
Or maybe it's just a neon sign for a seafood shack, and your suddenly gloomy mind is searching for meaning where there is none.
You roll your eyes at your own thoughts, park your bike, and make your way inside. The smell of seafood is nearly overpowering the minute you step through the door and doesn't fade for an instant, even after you've collected your pounds of shrimp in bags and make your way to the register in the very back. You wonder if the employee behind the counter even smells the seafood anymore, or if he's completely accustomed to it now.
He clears his throat awkwardly. Oh, God—how long have you been standing here? "Are you ready to check out?"
"Yes! Yes," you say hurriedly, laughing at yourself. "Sorry. In my own head this morning."
The cashier laughs good-naturedly in reply. "It happens." He looks down at the bags of shrimp after weighing and typing them in. "You visiting a friend here or something? That's quite a few pounds of shrimp—and I don't think I've seen you in here before."
You nod. "I'm staying with some family on the other side of the bridge. We're doing an end-of-summer broil tomorrow night."
He grins at you. "Can I come by if I only charge you for one of these?"
"If there's any leftovers," you reply coolly. "My cousins are pretty ravenous."
The cashier just laughs again, handing you the bags. "Fair enough. You have a good day, now."
"Same to you," you tell him absentmindedly—because you've noticed something in the open door behind the cashier. It's probably not meant to always be open, as it leads to a boardwalk out to the sea. Another Crab Shack employee is lining up a few crates of stock not yet loaded into the store. A couple canisters of fruit, three or four crates of sodas—and at the very end of the boardwalk, you think you might just see a head of blue hair peeking out of the water.
Shit.
You wonder as you quickly make your way out of the store, as you duck under the Sea You Later! sign at the exit, as you pedal the whole ride back over the bridge and back onto your uncle's property—a trick of the light, maybe? (When has that ever been the case this summer?) Will Hongjoong even say anything about it tonight, if it was him?
He does, of course. When evening falls and you make your way down to the dock, you haven't even taken your pencils out of your drawing bag before Hongjoong is pulling himself up beside you, gazing at you intently.
"What was so funny?" he asks, in a tone so innocent you almost think he's being genuine. "I want to know."
You make an exasperated face. "I don't know what you're talking about, Hongjoong."
"The man in the store today," he answers plainly. "In the apron. You laughed at something he said."
"Nothing," you say. "I was being polite—I promise. He was the one trying to make jokes about inviting himself over. Not nearly as funny as he thought he was."
He isn't quite satisfied with that. "Did you know him before?"
"No," you tell him. "I was just in there getting shrimp for my uncle to cook tomorrow."
Hongjoong frowns. "I could've gotten you shrimp. There's plenty around that cove near the bridge."
You laugh. "I appreciate the offer—but where would I have told my uncle several pounds of live shrimp came from?"
He frowns, thinking for a moment. "The apron man wasn't too bright, I think," Hongjoong says. "I saw him come out onto the boardwalk not too long after you left—almost fell over trying to help the other apron man pick up those boxes."
His words hang in the air for a beat. Then two. "What would you have done if he had?" you ask, partially teasing and partially serious. "Drown him?"
Hongjoong ponders that. "I'm not sure. Maybe."
"For what? Talking to me?" you ask, somewhat incredulously. "What were you doing watching me in the middle of the day, anyway? Just 'in the area' again?"
He crosses his arms indignantly. "I didn't plan to. I heard your laugh when I came up for air, so I wanted to know what was funny." He seems to pause on that for a moment. "You're almost a siren yourself, in that way."
Now that makes your heart stop—maybe more than he had intended it to. You have to hide the smile that threatens to creep up the edges of your mouth. "So you really aren't going to drown that poor cashier? Or me, for talking to him?" you ask, still only partially teasingly.
Hongjoong's face softens slightly at that. "I don't think I ever really intended to. Not from the moment I saw you."
You wonder, for a split second, if he can hear your heart thundering in your chest—if he has any idea what kind of effect he has on you, siren abilities or not.
He seems to have an idea of your thoughts, either way—because he reaches for your hand, intertwining it with his. "I want to show you something."
You stare at him for an instant too long. "Where?" you ask, nervous laughter accidentally escaping you. "In the water?"
He nods, as if that should have been obvious. "Of course."
You give him a look. "Hongjoong—I don't know how far this is, but you know I'm not nearly as good at holding my breath as you are."
Hongjoong laughs a little at that—that bright, airy, musical laugh that almost instantly sets you at ease, reminding whatever sane parts of you are left that he's still a siren. "Don't worry," he says plainly. "I'll make sure you can breathe."
Just as always, there's no malice in his tone, no hint of a hidden plot behind his eyes, although you wonder if you would even know if there was, skillful siren that he is. Regardless, you squeeze his hand in yours and let him lead you off the dock and beneath the waves, taking one last gasping breath before your head slips underneath.
Hongjoong keeps your hand in his, tail swishing as he leads the two of you further beneath the surface—the scales across it continue to reflect moonlight as brightly as if you were still above the water, giving you just as much visibility in the dark water as if you had a flashlight with you.
What's a flashlight?
You nearly let out a yelp before you remember the two of you are underwater. That was Hongjoong's voice, no doubt about it—and it was in your head.
You can talk to me this way too, you know.
It's like he's invaded your head—his thoughts are suddenly yours. Can you always hear my thoughts? you wonder. If that's been the case all along—
But you can just barely see Hongjoong shake his head in front of you through the darkness. No, you hear him say. Only when we're here, like this. Do you need air?
God, you definitely, definitely do—the shock of Hongjoong's voice in your mind had completely distracted you for a brief moment from the lack of air in your lungs. It's nothing at all, though, compared to the shock you feel when Hongjoong cups your cheeks between his hands and presses his mouth to yours.
He's kissing you.
No—he's not, you realize suddenly. He's breathing into you, pushing air down your lungs and filling them up until you feel like you can breathe again, despite being completely submerged beneath the water.
Hongjoong pulls away after a moment. Good? he asks.
You nod—you're slightly embarrassed now, especially now that you know he could hear your confusion in your head.
And especially considering the smirk you can see on his lips right before he turns back around to push the two of you further through the water. He's well aware of the confusion he's caused.
Hongjoong only has to give you air two more times before you finally arrive at what he had wanted to show you—and it nearly takes your breath away once more.
It's a shipwreck. A massive one, sitting completely undisturbed at the bottom of the bay. The ship has three broken masts, some of the sails slightly submerged in the sand with several of the cannon openings peeking out at you, which you know can mean only one thing.
This ship is hundreds of years old. One that had clearly gone down in a fight.
Hongjoong beams at you taking in the scene. My cousins did this, you hear him say, and you nearly laugh at the clear pride in that declaration.
You think about your own cousins, playing pirates on the beach while they throw buckets of water at each other, stomping over sandcastles and leaving childlike destruction in their wake. Yeah? you finally ask. Sounds like something my cousins would do.
Hongjoong stares at you thoughtfully for a long time after that—you wonder, for a brief moment, if you shouldn't have compared your family to his in this way. You're just about to formulate a thought to apologize when you feel his lips on yours again, one hand on the back of your head while the other cups your cheek gently.
You stare at him, confused once more when he pulls back. I didn't need air, you tell him, eyebrows knit together in confusion.
He stares right back. I know.
Hongjoong waits to see the realization on your face before he touches you again, clasping your chin between two fingers gingerly. He's giving you a chance to push him away, if that's what you want.
It isn't.
You hold his face in your hands when you press your lips to his this time, and you can practically feel the relief emanating from him in your own mind. He wraps one arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders, holding you as close to him as he can. Everything else—all your fearful thoughts about the end of the summer from today, your suspicions about your uncle, your constant stress about your mother—all fades away past the point of existence, and in that moment, there is nothing but you and Hongjoong at the bottom of the ocean.
"Sure you don't want to go out on the boat today?" your uncle asks the next morning. "It's your last chance for this summer."
But you shake your head again. "I got pretty sunburned across my back yesterday," you fib. "I'll watch the house here until you all get back. Do you need me to run any errands for you while you're gone?"
He doesn't quite stop himself from narrowing his eyes at you. You've been out in the sun enough times this summer that the half hour you spent in the backyard watching your cousins' impromptu performance of A Midsummer Night's Dream yesterday shouldn't have burned you at all. And you know he's fully aware of this. "...Don't know how many times I've told you kids to wear sunscreen," he says after a moment. "And reapply."
"I know," you wince. "I'm sorry. I'll put some lotion on it after breakfast."
"There's some in the closet upstairs with aloe," he informs you. "That usually speeds up the healing process for me."
"Good to know," you tell him. In truth, the only thing you plan to do while everyone is out of the house is work on your drawing of Hongjoong. You've solidified the outline, gone over it with an ink pen, but you're still trying to decide how to place the shading. You want to show the finished product to Hongjoong tonight—your last night of summer. You've put off that dreaded conversation with him until the very last minute—but you know you two will have to talk about what happens two nights from now when you're across the country, moving into your dorm room for your first night at college.
At least—you think you will be. There's a mad fantasy, of course, of staying here, of sneaking out to see Hongjoong every night for as long as you can, of running away with him somehow to some island where no one will ever bother the two of you—but it's just that, a fantasy, and you know it. Even if the entire summer has felt like a fantasy in its own way.
You don't know how that conversation will go tonight. But you want to at least be able to give this piece to him, regardless of what happens.
You're hunched over your sketchpad for hours, messing with the combination of paints for your watercolors until they're just right (or at least as satisfactory as you can get them). The scales on his tail are the hardest—you want so badly to show how ethereal they look with the moonlight reflecting off them, making him look like he's glowing from the waist down. You lay down a base color first and paint over it with different shades of blue and green, creating several different layers until you're pleased with the color's result.
Your work on the contours of his face and torso comes much easier, and the full painting is almost completely dry by the time you're heading back outside, moon high in the sky to greet you as you step onto the dock.
Hongjoong is waiting for you too, forearms resting at the edge of the pier. You roll the painting into a cylinder shape as you walk down to meet him, but you know he knows exactly what it is.
He grins. "I've been thinking about this all day," he admits, immediately, and you feel an entire enclosure of butterflies fluttering through your chest at the statement.
But you steel yourself. Take a breath. "Before I show it to you," you say, "I want to talk."
Hongjoong nods. "The end of the summer. Right?"
You raise one eyebrow at him. "How'd you know?"
"I heard you talking about it. With your uncle, that first time that your cousin spotted me from the boat." He grins a little at the recollection. "I heard him say there wasn't long until the end of summer, when you'd be leaving, so—I imagined this conversation would happen soon."
You exhale, slightly relieved. At least you wouldn't have to break the news of your sudden departure to him. "And how did you imagine this conversation?"
He takes a breath now. "I know I can't ask you to stay here. That's not fair to what you want—to the choices you've made with your own family for being able to make your own life. But I was thinking—"
"Y/N!" You hear a voice cry out from behind you.
You'd recognize the sound of your uncle anywhere—and you feel your blood practically freeze over in your veins. "Get back here. Now!"
You turn around quickly, trying to block the view of Hongjoong from your uncle—but it's too late. And as you turn to face him, you see that he's come prepared for this exact situation—a shotgun raised to his shoulder now, eyes peering down the barrel pointed at you, and a long fishing spear beside him on the dock.
"Uncle," you say, as calmly as you can. "Put that down. Please."
"Get back here, Y/N," he says, voice trembling with barely contained rage. "Get away from that thing right this minute and get out of my way."
You take a shaky breath. "Uncle, please let me explain. He's—"
"I know exactly what that is!" your uncle spits, pulling back the safety on the shotgun with a loud click. "A goddamn monster. You have no idea what those things do," he says, voice cracking. "I've seen men—good men, my friends taken from me, by its kind. Yanked right off our ship's railing and into their waiting mouths. It's nothing but a bloodthirsty animal that—"
"Stop!" you interrupt him with a shout, surprising yourself with the tenacity in your voice. You feel Hongjoong's hand wrap around your ankle, probably trying to tell you to stop—but you can't. You won't. "He's not a single thing like that. His name is Hongjoong. He's never even drowned anyone, let anyone killed and eaten anyone, Uncle. You have—"
"It's got you under it's spell," your uncle says, horrified. "Oh, my poor Y/N. I'll kill this nasty beast and free you from this trap."
You practically scream the next time you open your mouth. "No! You can't!" There's tears streaming down your face now, and the intensity of your emotions must be a surprise to your uncle, if the look of shock on his face is anything to go by. "Uncle—I'm begging you," you plead, sobbing. "I'll do anything. Please, please don't hurt him. He's my friend."
Something strange flickers over your uncle's features. He drops the barrel ever so slightly from being pointed at you. "Your friend, huh?"
You nod as you choke back another sob. "I love him." It's the first time you've admitted it—to yourself, let alone out loud—but you know it's the truth. Has been for longer than you've been aware, most likely.
That admission causes your uncle to drop the barrel entirely, holding the shotgun down in one hand and letting his other arm rest at his side. "My Y/N," he says, after a moment with a sigh.
"I've always wanted the best for you. I lived with your mother for eighteen years growing up, up until she met your father and had you and your brothers. I know how...how demanding she can be," he says with a laugh, one you don't reciprocate. "I know her tendencies all too well. She's my sister, and she'll always be my sister—but that doesn't mean I think she's a good person. I've tried to show you that there's a different path in life. That you don't have to do things her way. This...isn't what I thought you'd do," he says, laughing emptily again. "But I would never want to do anything that would hurt you on any level close to what I know she's caused you."
Your uncle swallows. Takes a breath. "I swore an oath," he says, steadier now. "In the navy. When I see anything like this, when any of us do—I'm honor-bound to report it. The local unit will be over here in under half an hour. Maybe even sooner."
You feel yourself holding your breath.
"So," he says, sighing as he meets your gaze down the dock. "You two...had just better not be here by the time they show up."
Before you can say anything in response—or perhaps before he can change his mind, your uncle turns on his heel and walks back towards the house.
You turn back around to face Hongjoong, sinking to your knees—and the minute you do, you feel tears streaming back down your face again.
He immediately pushes himself up onto the dock, grabbing hold of your face and brushing away the tears the instant they fall. "Y/N," he whispers. "You didn't have to do that. I...I love you. I would've gladly taken a bullet from your uncle if it meant you'd be safe."
Your eyes well with tears again, a shaky laugh leaving you. "Shit," you whisper back. "I don't—I don't know what to do, I just...just wanted to show you this stupid drawing," you say, laughing shakily. "And now I've ruined both of our lives. I'll never see you again."
"No. You haven't," Hongjoong says firmly, squeezing your cheeks in his hands.
You grab hold of his wrists. "Hongjoong—you have to get out of here. You...you said you have family everywhere, right? Go anywhere else. Please."
"No," Hongjoong says suddenly, straightening up the instant your hands wrap around his wrists. "Where did you say that school you were going to for your art was?"
You tell him. "It's on the coast, but it's not nearly as close to the sea as we are here, I—"
He interrupts you again. "I'll find you."
You let out an unbelieving laugh. "Hongjoong, there's no way—"
"I'll find you," he repeats, hands still cupping your face firmly. "On the name of the full moon that night you found me—on that stupid apple that led me to you. I'll find you. And then, you can let me see that drawing."
He leans forward, his lips pressing against yours in a messy kiss—all teeth and salty tears and hands squeezing too tight, or maybe not tight enough—before he lets go of you, pushing himself off the dock and into the water. You see one flick of his tail before he descends deep beneath the surface, and it's not long at all as you sit there, chest heaving and cheeks stained, before the waves are gone and the sea stills, and it's like Hongjoong was never there at all.
Fall semester has left you busier than you could have ever dreamed. You've never done this many sketches in a week, never tried this many different techniques at once, never spent this many all-nighters on a single project—but you'd be lying if you said you weren't still enjoying every second of it.
Your job keeps you plenty busy, too—your roommate had been kind enough to put in a good word at the campus library and gotten you a job in the coffee shop on the first floor. You're taking as many shifts as you can, but the pay isn't bad, all things considered. You may not have to take a semester off after all.
But the diving club keeps you almost busier than both your work and assignments combined. You've already logged more hours than any of the other freshman, and some of the upperclassmen, too. If the club captain has noticed how you're always late packing up after a dive, she hasn't reprimanded you. Maybe she's noticed the unique shells you seem to always come back with, or the skip in your step as you pack up your scuba gear, rolling a shiny bracelet over your wrist—or maybe she's noticed something else, entirely.
After all—last summer, you had been so sure that there was nothing like Hongjoong living below the water's surface. Of course, that didn't mean other people didn't already believe otherwise.
a/n: happy holidays !! i hope everyone is staying warm and healthy and having a lovely week so far <3
and finally…this title escapes my wip list 😭 y’all. i have been working on this on and off since late 2021—sometimes you can have an idea, have absolutely no inspo to write past halfway through, and then write 5k in one night. 💀 no such thing as a perfect project ofc but i do hope you enjoyed this oneshot! feedback is always welcome through reblogs, comments, and messages 🫶🫶 thank you sm for reading!
taglist: @petrichor-han @kangroo-chan @ot7lonelylover @lilacdreams-00 @mainexiii @awkwardnesshabitat @lotus-dly @elizabeth11moreno @nerdysl-t @seung-scrittore @fireheaurt
©️ noramoons 2021-2023. do not translate or reupload my writing.
#hongjoong x reader#kim hongjoong x reader#ateez oneshot#ateez x reader#ateez fluff#ateez angst#hongjoong fic#hongjoong fluff#hongjoong angst#hongjoong x gender neutral reader#hongjoong oneshot#ateez fic#beck writes ✍️
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Playing with his Hair
Chris x reader, 1st person, reader POV
TW: shitty manager
Summary: you've had a long day. Everything was way more difficult than it needed to be. Chris asks you to come over when you get off of work for a gaming stream.
I hate my job. Honestly, I wish I could quit. Most of my coworkers don't even do their jobs, preferring to dump it onto me and my couple close work friends. I know Chris wouldn't mind if I quit and depended on him until I found a different job for a little while, but I would just feel so guilty about it. He's never say it, but I can tell he's under a decent amount of stress trying to keep up a specific appearance for the triplets' fans. I wish all three of them would take a break and just focus on destressing for a little bit.
Nevertheless, I have about twenty minutes left in my shift before the next person gets here to take my place and I can clock out. The diner I work at is incredibly slow at the moment, so I pull my phone out behind the counter and check the time. Well, "check the time." Really, it's just to see Chris on my lock screen. His name pops up in my notifications. I unlock my phone and click on the little box.
Chris 💖: hey doll, I know you're at work, but do you want to come over after you get off? We're doing gaming stream. You can spend the night?
I grin at his message. He's so sweet. I shoot him back a thumbs up since my manager is approaching and slip my phone back into my pocket.
"Bad news, Kaitlyn is running late, so you'll have to stay late." I hate this man. I hold the string of curses in and respond calmly instead.
"How late are we talking?" I lean on the counter in front of me.
"I don't know exactly. Probably at least an extra thirty minutes past your clock out time." His leans across the counter, putting his face near mine. "That isn't an issue is it?" It sounds like a question, but I know better. I know John better than that. No, if I complain I risk my job.
"That's fine." It's not fine. The time moves slowly. At one point I swear the clock starts moving backwards. Eventually, Kaitlyn runs in, her hair messy and her face tired.
"I'm so sorry, babes." She says to me quickly. "I had no idea you were the one stuck here with John. I'll make it up to you, I swear."
"You better." I say lightly, mostly joking. "I'm out of here. I'll keep you in my thoughts and prayers though." I say as I walk towards the back to clock out. I bump into John. "Kaitlyn just got here, so I'm going to clock out now." He rolls his eyes at me, but says no protest.
I get into my car after clocking out and pull my phone out. I shoot Chris a text.
Me: sorry I'm running so late, Kaykat was late 😭😭 I'm heading over now.
Chris 💖: okay ma, I'll have fresh clothes waiting for you <3
He really is sweet. How did I get so lucky? I start my car and pull out of the parking lot. The drive goes by quickly and before I know it, I'm pulling into the familiar drive way. I park my car, and let myself into the house.
"Honey, I'm back from hell!" I call out. I make my way down to Chris's room when I get no answer. He's not there, but some of his clothes are laid out on the bed. He's laid out one of his hoodies and some sweats. It just seems a little hot for all of that. I grab a shirt from his closet, one that's been worn soft and open the drawer he had kindly donated to hold my growing collection of clothes at his house. I grab a pair of shorts, then change my mind. I grab a pair of his boxers and a pair of black thigh high compression socks. My legs are already aching from that shift, so I'll need the support. I set it on his bed and go to his bathroom. I take my make up off and let my hair down before going back into his room to change.
Once I'm changed and I've deemed myself suitable for public sight, I head upstairs to the room they always stream in. I can hear them yelling from down the hall. I softly open the door and slip in. Nick and Matt are busy yelling at Chris for dying.
"You're done! No more playing until you can stay alive for longer than five fucking minutes!" Nick yells. Matt takes over on playing the game. Chris turns around and spots me.
"Baby!" He rushes me and pulls me to his body. "I missed you!" He brings me to the couch they kept in the room against the wall.
"I missed you too. What are you guys playing?" I ask, sitting down. Chris takes my legs and puts them over his lap, sitting close to the rest of my body.
"Skyrim." He answers, taking one of my aching legs into his hands and begins rubbing. I let out a hiss. "You okay, doll?"
"Yeah, just a long ass shift. So fucking tired of John." I express to him.
"Tell him to fuck off." He makes his way up my leg, working his magic hands to ease the aches throughout my leg.
"I'd like to keep my job." I roll my eyes at him.
"Really? I heard there's a position open for my stay at home cutie. Pays seventeen kisses, twenty hugs, and unlimited cuddles and hour." He switches to the other leg.
"Really now? What about health benefits? Huh?" I try to keep my voice steady through his beginning ministrations on my other leg. From the look on his face, I didn't do a great job.
"You got me there, doll." He finishes with both legs after a few minutes and leans his upper body to lay on mine. This just so happens to put his head perfectly within range of my hands.
I reach one hand up and burrow it into his hair. I place my pointer and thumb on the outer sides of his nap and begin rubbing small circles into his skin. He groans softly.
"Baby, let me take care of you." He protests.
"No, this is what I want to do. I want you to lay here against me and let me play with your hair. Please?" I throw out a pout. He huffs.
"I'm making you something to eat in a little bit." He squints at me.
"Okay, monkey." I say, driving both my hands into his hair. I rub circles across his head, then I switch to lightly tracing his scalp with my nails. He lets out the smallest whine.
I start gently moving his hair around, running my hands through it and pulling them up before slowly releasing his hair so it drops back down to his head. He practically whimpers at the sensation. "Fuck ma, feels good. You're real good at this." He moves against my hand. I giggle. In my opinion, there's nothing more relaxing than playing with my favorite boy's hair.
"Good." I say. My stomach growls loudly.
"I think it's time I go make you something to eat." Chris perks up. My shoulders drop. "Don't worry, doll. I'll carry you, and you can continue playing with my hair once you've eaten." He places a wet kiss on my cheek.
"Okay, okay." I sigh. "Come on." He smiles brightly at me. God, how did I get so lucky to have such a sweet boy?
#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo#fluff#sturniolo fluff
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Yandere Vampire!Shoto x Human!reader
Part 2
Synopsis: You find out the secret that the world hid, will you choose Shoto, or yourself? Would he even choose you? Part 2 to this (tho u can read it as is honestly)
Wc: 2.2k
A/N: hello! Here’s part 2!! Sorry if its kinda rushed! Lmao i swear i got like my first writer’s block or sum. I literally wrote so many versions of this part 2 lololol anw thank u all for the love and support!!
“Y/N! FUCK–GET BACK HERE!! WHY ARE YOU LEAVING ME?!!?? DARLING DON’T DO THIS! I’LL FUCKING LOCK YOU UP”
You didn’t dare look back. Running in the wind, the sun giving rays of hope, you held onto the thought of your escape. You thought about how it all led to this, how quickly things changed. You didn’t even know how it came to this, but you knew it was the right thing to do. You looked back at all the things that happened before this.
“You, filthy servant, come here.” You heard Touya, the oldest sibling, call out to you. Shoto was studying in his office along with his private tutor, and here you were at the other side of the castle, wandering about. You quickly bowed your head as you stood in front of him. “I know what you’re doing– what you and that annoying little brother of mine are doing. You think I wouldn’t notice, hm?” He took your chin to make you lift your face, your eyes boring into his fiery blue ones. “I–I don’t understand master please–” he shut you up by kissing your lips suddenly. You were about to push him when you felt him bite. He bit your lower lip, drawing blood. You stilled as he licked away the blood, savoring your taste. He hummed in satisfaction, not bad, he thought, “Now look sweetheart, we all know what you and Shoto are doing is wrong. They’ll have you punished if they ever found out. My dear little brat of a brother is stupid to think that I wouldn’t find out.” You thought that this would be your end, they’d lock you up and kill you. All because you loved Shoto. “But, it seems I’m quite fond of you, you’re lucky it’s just me dear.” He gave you a quick pat on the head and went on his way. Even though he was nowhere to be seen, panic rose up through your throat, you wanted to scream, how unfair this world is. But instead you paced quickly away from the direction Touya walked to. You were just fidgeting around when you felt something in your pocket. A key. You studied it and it didn’t seem to match any door you know.
Days went on after your encounter with Touya and things were going..bad. You were now always on edge, wary of your surroundings, if he was watching. Shoto noticed this too, and became even more frantic. “Darling please, why do you keep avoiding me? Is it something I did? Please lets talk this out yeah?” And each and every time you would brush it off. This not only worried Shoto but also enraged him. In weeks his concerns would suddenly turn into anger, just like when he was a kid, when you both were just master and servant. “Y/N! What is this behavior?? Talk to me.” As all of this was happening, you were trying to find the door to that key. It all happened when Shoto eventually snapped. You were preparing him for the night when he had enough. He grabbed your shoulders a bit too hard, and started shaking you slightly. “Y/N what has gotten into you!?!? Do you no longer love me?? Were all those promises a lie??? I love you please.. Tell me you love me.” Tears were streaming down his face as he held you tightly. “Master–Shoto you’re hurting me! Calm down I–I’ll tell you.” His grip on you remained as you told him all about your encounter with Touya, though you did leave out the part where he kissed you, who knows how he would react if the mere fact that you weren’t talking to him was enough to drive him crazy. The look on his face scared you. It screamed obsession. “Y/N I don’t want you talking to him ever again okay darling? If I ever see him talking to you– I swear I’ll slit his fucking throat. You’re mine, hm Y/N? All mine”
Days passed since then and things were finally going back to normal, Shoto was back to the loving sweet boy he was, who would shower you in love and affection, while you do the same to him. But that key never left your mind. One day, as you sneaked out of Shoto’s arms to wander around the castle, you heard a loud banging noise on the wall. You investigated it and soon enough you finally found it. Upon pressing on a certain spot on the wall, a secret passageway opened up to you, and at the bottom a door that seemed to welcome you. Key in hand, you opened it. It was just a normal room, a table, one chair, and two bookshelves on the corner. You entered and looked at the books, or book rather, as there was only one book in the entirety of the room. A history book. Lame, you thought but you read it anyway. A single line struck you, as it was at the very beginning of the book.
“No matter what cost, do not let the humans know how powerful they are, lest they bring destruction to our species”
Hours of reading that single book taught you a lot more than what anyone had ever taught you. It showed you spells “humans” did. Discoveries humans made. How humans hunted vampires, and how our arrogance led the vampires to their victory. We’re mages, you thought to yourself. You had to tell the others. You had to make a plan. You had to escape.
It started slowly, informing the servants that you trusted with your life, Izuku, Eijiro, Ochako. You often took them to the secret room, and told them all about the book. They in turn would tell the others that they trusted. You learned a few spells from the book, practicing everyday when the nobles were asleep. You learned how to make explosions, shields made of harsh winds, and for some reason the most highlighted one, how to keep people quiet. More specifically, how to make unbreakable vows. This helped in keeping everything secret. You learned more, and taught others. You were making a plan.
Amidst all this you were still very careful around Touya. You suspected that it was him that placed the key in your pocket, and for whatever reason, you didn’t know. Was this all a set up? Were you all gonna be punished? You didn’t know, but what you did know was that you all gotta move fast. Back to Shoto you were still all loving towards him. A part of you didn’t want to leave him, and a part of you felt guilty for wanting to escape. You wanted to leave with him, but can you really trust him? He was still hostile to others except for you, but maybe because of your love perhaps he warmed his heart? Even just a little. But you were wrong.
It was the day of the escape, everyone chose daylight to escape, to make sure that the beasts stay asleep. “Izuku, all prepared?” you asked in hushed tones as you walked past him in the corridor. “All ready Y/N.” You all knew that some of you might not make it, but it was a risk you all were willing to take. To save everyone from this. But there was one last thing you had to do. You entered Shoto’s room. “Hey darling, come, let's sleep hm?” He patted your side of the bed, wanting to sleep and cuddle. “..Shoto I have to tell you something” You were hoping that you weren’t making a mistake. “What is it love?” His tone was a bit worried as he straightened up to lean on the headboard. “I..I’m going to leave.” Just from a few words his face turned pale, the anger that felt so familiar in his eyes, just as he was to open his mouth, you interrupted him “I want you to come with me..” “..huh..” You told him all about how you wanted to escape, how none of this is right, killing is not right. Though you might’ve left out the part that you all could now do witchcraft. “Darling I don’t think–I’m not sure if this is a good idea.”
“What do you mean?”
“Escaping with those pests? Darling you know better, being with me is better. I love you, protect you, keep you away from harm, that must be enough, yeah?”
“But Shoto there’s so much more we could do! It’s not just about me! There are people out there that got it worse!! We could study, we have rights, our hearts beat just the same as yours! We. Are. Alive.”
“Dear I know, you are the most wonderful thing to happen to me, I would die for you, you know that. But those filthy humans?”
“I’m a human”
Shoto was taken aback from your vicious tone, it was so uncanny, something so different from your sweet voice. “Darling wait–” You were to leave the room, in hopes that perhaps you both can just pretend nothing happened. He grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you to the bed. “Shoto get off! Please don’t make this hard!!” His hand was now on your neck while you struggled, slowly applying pressure. “Come on darling please don’t be difficult. We love each other don’t we? We can just stay here, let your friends escape, I won’t say a word to anyone, I promise.” “Shoto let me go–” “-NO! YOU ARE STAYING HERE AND THATS FINAL.” Him yelling genuinely scared you, he was now nothing but a crazed lover. His hold on your neck was tightening too much, you couldn’t breathe. “All I do is love you, and this is what I get?? You leaving me?? You fucking promised we’d be together forever.” Shoto was out of control, his fangs were bared and you feared that any time now, he would kill you. Your consciousness were starting to fade when you remembered, you’re a fucking. You lifted your hand from his to point it at the left side of his face. BOOM. You let out an explosion that made him scream in agony. The left side of his face was burning. You quickly dashed out of the room to meet up with the others at the garden at the back of the castle. While running you could hear Shoto crying for you, yelling your name. “Y/N?? What the fuck happened this was not part of the plan.” Ochako asked, in which you were too out of breath to reply. You all quickly ran through a path you all made in the garden, and then activated the spell. You all spent so much time casting a spell around the castle, a barrier of harsh wind that no one would come through. It surrounded the castle and was so high that no one would pass it. “Hell yeah! Come on!” Eijiro yelled and you all ran.
Shoto’s yelling and cries woke the entire family. “Shoto?! What the hell??” Natsuo asked. “CATCH THEM!! THOSE FILTHY FUCKING HUMANS ARE ESCAPING!!” Shoto ignored everyone telling him to get treated first and ran straight out. Touya looked out through a window, and smiled. “Good luck, Y/N.” You all knew the barrier of wind wouldn't last long, so you all were in a hurry. Carriages were prepared for all of you by people outside, people that you were fortunate enough to communicate with through your spells. But just as you all were navigating through the forest, explosions went off. Everyone started screaming, a lot were injured, a few died. You looked back and saw that the barrier was gone, they must’ve caught up. “KEEP RUNNING!!” You yelled to those who could still run, someone, anyone had to make it alive, had to let people know. You were running when you passed a certain someone lifeless on the ground, Eijiro. You felt a pang in your heart as you continued to run.
And that's how it all happened. A lot of the people you were with were now either captured or killed, and in time you knew that you would be caught too. You heard Shoto’s voice getting louder, and in no time you were tackled on the ground. “I finally got you darling.” He was smiling but it wasn’t reaching his eyes. He pinned you down, making sure you couldn’t move. “Let’s go home, hm?”
“No.”
“Haha it’s not really a question sweetheart.”
“Over my dead fucking body.”
“Stop being difficult.”
“Make a fucking decision Shoto.”
He was confused as to what you meant, then he suddenly noticed a very sharp glass pointed at the back of his head, it was you or him. You were ready to die, ready to kill him, and for what? Shoto laughed, you couldn’t be serious right? But the look in your eyes told him this was real. Either he kills you, or you kill him. His heart started racing, panic evident in his eyes. He wanted to throw up, to hug you, to cry, to kiss you. He just wanted everything to go back the way it was. But that was impossible. You both could never go back.As you hear the carriages move in the distance, you felt relief, someone made it, and this was surely the start of something bigger. With relief in your heart, but grief in Shoto’s, you closed your eyes.
a/n: heyyy! If you’re still here thank u for reading hehe <33 had a ride writing this lol
#x reader#bnha headcannons#mha headcanons#bnha fanfiction#todoroki shouto#todoroki x reader#todoroki x y/n#todoroki x you#dabi x reader#dabi#bnha#mha#boku no hero academia#my hero academia#yandere#yandere x reader#vampire#vampire x reader#yandere vampire#yandere vampire x reader#yandere todo#yandere mha#yandere bnha
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promise
in which; wilbur comes home late and exhausted and brushes past his daughter
about; dad!bur au, so many different perspectives, angst to fluff, i wrote this in two hours very late at night so it's not the best, kisses, fighting, crying, wilbur being bad bad, wilbur ignoring your daughter, swearing, happy ending yayay, gender neutral, i think y/n is used once, anything along these lines
word count; 1.7k
taglist; @phxntomsdusk, @pheliiaa (ask to be added)
you heard the front door creak open, and you sent your daughter down to greet him. you stayed in her room, however, overthinking.
he was home late again from the studio, writing and figuring out songs for the new album. he was working hard, but was starting to forget about who lay at home, waiting for him.
you and your daughter made good use of time during the day when he wasn’t there. making little animals out of playdoh, making dinner for wilbur when he got home, or making silly stories with each other. however, it didn’t feel right.
it didn’t feel like when wilbur had promised to spend every waking moment with you and your daughter. he had promised that if it came to it, he would give up lovejoy, give up streaming, give up everything, to spend all of eternity with you both. but now, he wasn’t keeping the promise fulfilled.
you were cut off by the urgent footsteps of your daughter, and a very teary-eyed girl standing in the doorway. scooping her up, you cradle her against your chest and swing her back and forth, trying to cheer her up.
eventually, you had to break her walls and ask what was wrong.
“what happened? why’re you upset?”
“daddy…”
she was cut off by a loud sob erupting from her throat. she was just so heartbroken
“what did daddy do, sweetheart? do i need to go talk to him?”
it was a great effort trying to get a reason out in between her sobs and shaky breaths, but eventually, she got something out.
“daddy- he- he walked past me. i said hello and tried to hug him, but- but he- he didn’t say hello back. i offered the cupcakes and his- his dinner to him, but he just walked into his room. he just ‘hmphed’ and… ignored me.”
you were heartbroken by this point. he had left his daughter in tears, and his lover heartbroken, but you couldn’t keep sulking with your daughter.
cut to now. you were standing in your shared room with wilbur, arguing back and forth. stupid arguments spewed from his mouth, and sounds of disbelief spewed from yours. you were frustrated from his pure ignorance and bullshit excuses.
“i’m tired! do you not see that! you have to realise i don’t have all the time in the world to be with the people i love most! for fucks sake, you give no one a break, do you!”
each word spilled from his mouth shattered your heart. he didn’t understand.
“all you are worried about is me! all you are worried about is our daughter! all you are worried about is the little stupid things that do not need to have your mind occupied!”
he shouted more and more silly things, clearly not realising what he was saying.
“but that’s what we’re meant to be worried abou-“
“i don’t care! you need to stop! you need to calm the fuck down, sit the fuck down, and stop worrying. i get it, our daughter is very much upset, but im here, and im tired!”
why was he worried about himself?
“you quite simply ignored our daughter as soon as you opened that door! she offered everything her little mind could think of! the cupcakes we made today, the dinner we made for you, she said hello and tried to hug you and you walked past her, groaned, and ignored her! you’ve left her in tears in her bedroom, absolutely heartbroken, because of you! are you fucking brain dead, wilbur!”
he wasn’t going to deny that your words hurt him more than his hurt you. he was only just realising how much he was away from you and his daughter. how much time was spent without the smiling faces of the little love bugs that he leaves at home each day. he didn’t know what had gotten into hi-
“what happened to ‘i’ll give up everything. i’ll give up lovejoy, streaming, ill give up everything, to spend all of eternity with you’! you aren’t here anymore! you’re either not at home or you’re off with the fairies! what happened to us! are we not important! what happened to your family, wilbur! you must be fucking stupid, you bastard!”
that was the last thing he needed before he fell onto the bed and let the floodgates open. he hadn’t realised how much time he had spent away from you both. he was always worried about the release date of the next ep, or always occupied by something else. it must have been months since he truly recognised the warm smile of his daughter or the honey-sweet laugh of you. he didn’t realise that he was slipping down the same rabbit hole every one he knew was falling down. he needed to be present.
you were both fuming. you were pissed and he was frustrated.
it took him a good five minutes to register that you were gone. that you hadn’t offered him a hug, or a kiss, or even something as simple as a head rub. you had just walked off…
he immediately stood up and almost ran to his daughters room. he looked everywhere. you weren’t in there. you weren’t in the guest room, or the lounge room, or the bathroom, or even the kitchen. you were literally gone.
he was about to break down again, lose himself to panic, until the soft, wet laughs from his daughter reached his ears.
he found you both outside, your daughter laying in the grass, you tickling her. she had dried tear tracks on her face and red puffy eyes, you with the same. god she looked like you-
until the day he dies, he will never believe that your daughter looks like him. she has your hair, your eyes, your nose, your mouth. she has your beauty.
he sat down next to you after your daughter saw him and her smile dropped. he’d done so wrong-
“can i apologi-“
“wilbur go inside.”
“darling, plea-“
“wilbur.”
he stood once again and stepped inside. he grabbed his dinner and sat at the kitchen island. he let his eyes roam over every photo of you, of your daughter, of you and your daughter, of him and your daughter, of all of you-
he ate his dinner before it went cold, the small bowl of mac n’ cheese and mashed potato swallowed down before he trudged back to your shared room. he laid down and fell asleep almost instantly. he didn’t want the guilt to set in and ruin anything else.
meanwhile, you and your daughter were still laughing and rolling around in the grass. just before wilbur came out wanting to apologise, you had just calmed her down from her sobs and cries. she had voiced so many small sentences that were so incomprehensible, the sentence that you did catch was so heart-wrenching, you started crying again.
“do you and daddy still love me?”
you sobbed and endured shaky breaths but you got through it just for her.
“yes, of course, pumpkin. please don’t ever think we don’t love you.”
a shower and fresh set of pyjamas later, your daughter was asleep in her room, and you were pacing the lounge room, figuring out what to do.
do you sleep on the couch? do you sleep with wilbur? do you sleep in your daughters room? you simply didn’t know.
settling for your shared bedroom, you make your way to where wilbur was fast asleep, small breaths moving the curls on his head and the slight twitch in his arm from where you were absent.
you crawl under the sheets behind him, ignoring the slight hiccup in his sleep, and falling asleep with your head buried in his sleep shirt. the faint scent of cologne and rain luring you into sleep.
you woke to wilbur’s calloused fingers running across your face and through your hair, and finding rest on your shoulders. his slight bed head and tired face making him even prettier than usual. he’ll always dent that he looks pretty in the mornings, claiming that he looks weird with his messy hair or that his breath stinks, but everything is always brushed off with a wide smile from you and a kiss placed under his eye.
but as soon as the warm feeling came, it was pulled away as soon as he realised you had woken up. he thought that you were still angry at him, that you would get angry at him for being so close to you after last night. but he was surprised when he felt you move and pull his hand back to you face.
he continued his small gestures across your face, staring at your sleepy face maybe just a little longer than he should be, considering how horrible of a person he was last night. how absolutely self-centred he was, how he ignored your daughte-
“stop worrying, wil. i’m not angry.”
“i’m so sorry, for last nigh-”
“sweet, don’t apologise right now.”
“just let me, please?”
when he was met with a small nod, he continued.
“i’m so so so sorry about last night. i don’t know what had gotten in to me that made me ignore the two most beautiful things i call mine, but i feel absolutely horrible. i should not have said anything that i said. i shouldn’t have been so self-centred, i shouldn’t have ignored our daughter, i shouldn’t have argued with you. i’m sorry. i really am. and im sorry for not sticking by that promise. i promise that you and our daughter are going to be my number one priority from here on out. i love you.”
he finished his apology with a kiss to your forehead, to your nose, and finally to your lips. he threaded his hands back into your hair, and pulled off his shirt and gave it to you to keep you warm.
soon, your little ball of happiness walked into the room, laughing at the sight of you in wilbur’s shirt and him tickling you. you all calmed down eventually, and let your daughter climb into bed with both of you.
wilbur immediately smothered her in tight hugs and ticklish kisses pressed against her face. he apologised to her for ignoring her and made sure that she believed him before he dropped the subject.
you all spent the entire day doing things together. making playdoh animals, with wilbur. making dinner, with wilbur. making up silly stories, with wilbur. he was included in everything you did.
#wilbur soot#wilbur soot x reader#wilbur x reader#wilbur#wilbur x you#wilbur soot x you#wilbur soot fluff#wilbur soot angst#dadbur#wilbur soot imagine#wilbur soot fanfiction
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