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pennylanefics · 4 months

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To Be Loved - Laurie Laurence

a/n: my first laurie fic! :D i'm pretty happy with how this came out and glad that i was able to actually write it out. bear in mind i haven't written anything like this in months, i also am not super confident about the dialogue because of the time setting and everything, so it may not be the most accurate, but i hope you enjoy! :)

summary: you get insecure about things with laurie late one night

word count: 2,427

warnings: slightly negative self talk here and there

Candlelight casts a warm glow over the silent and chilly room, the time well past midnight, but you and Laurie were wide awake. This has been a normal occurrence for the past few weeks, as you two got to know each other and started sneaking around.

Since the day you arrived at the March household to stay with your aunt and cousins, Laurie had taken a liking towards you. The moment he saw you taking a walk with Jo in the grassy area between their two houses, he couldn’t help but feel drawn towards you.

Maybe it was the way your hair blew in the wind, or the color of your dress, which happens to be his favorite color, violet, or the way the sun shone across your face, your eyes squinting just to be able to see Jo.

Whatever it was, Laurie couldn’t get you out of his head. So one day when he saw you reading underneath the tree, he approached you. Now, as it has been a couple months since your first meeting, you two are completely smitten.

And sneaking around behind your family and his grandfather’s backs.

That’s where you find yourself late at night, when all of your cousins and your aunt have fallen asleep, you sneak out and run off to Laurie’s to curl up in his bed and just talk, maybe kiss here and there, and mainly just be in each other’s presence.

The slight chill in the air is due to the falling temperature of autumn, cooler nights when the sun has gone far below the horizon, but Laurie was more than prepared. He laid a couple more quilts on top of the one he uses every night, knowing that as much as you love the weather, you hate being too cold.

“When are you heading off to Europe again, hm?” You ask, reaching up to stroke Laurie’s cheek. He hums softly in response, his eyes fluttering shut as he relishes in your tender touch and nuzzles into it.

“I don’t plan on going,” he states simply, sighing in response, hating that he has been reminded of it all during a time where he wants no other thoughts than you.

“And why is that?”

Your question seems to upset him as he quickly rises, your hand falling away from his cheek, and he walks over to sit on the window sill, staring out at the pitch black scene, aside from the single candlelight on the porch of the March household.

The room remains silent as he collects his thoughts, questioning if he should tell you his true thoughts or not. He turns back around with his hands in the pockets of his sleep pants, his eyes taking in the sight of you laying in his bed, a sight he would never grow tired of.

“I love you,” he whispers. Instantly, your blood runs cold and you’re sitting up, more alert and aware than you were five minutes ago.

“What?” All you can manage is the single word, your heart starting to pound in your chest. You could feel your hands getting clammy with your rising panic, despite the coolness of the room and it being well below sixty degrees. Laurie stands there, staring, tears becoming evident in his tired eyes.

“I love you, (Y/N). I do.”

“I told you not to fall in love with me,” you murmur in response, scooting to sit up in bed and bring your knees to your chest, “it wasn’t a joke.”

“How am I not supposed to when we spend countless nights tangled in each other’s limbs, faces so close that I can feel your breath against my lips, yearning to kiss you, to cherish you, to make you mine, to hold you like that forever.”

“Laurie, I’m no good for you. You deserve someone better.” Your eyes finally meet his and a defeated expression takes over his features, his small smile dropping into a frown and his eyebrows furrowing together in confusion.

“There is no one better, (Y/N). You are so perfect and I don’t know why you don’t see that.”

“Because I’m not! I’m no one. I come from nothing. I have nothing to offer you, I came here to ask Jo for help in becoming a writer so that I could make somewhat of a living for myself, a-and, I can’t provide for you.”

“You wouldn’t have to provide for me, my love-”

“Don’t call me that,” you interrupt. Secretly, you loved it, the second it falls from his lips you are swooning, but you simply can’t admit that.

It terrifies you.

“You really have not thought the same? Nights like these mean nothing to you?” His voice holds so much emotion. His question silences you, and tears form in your own eyes as you watch Laurie break slowly from the inside.

He was trying his hardest not to reach out for you and pull you into his arms in a tight hug, it’s all he wanted to do. He wanted to hold you, to kiss you over and over and whisper how things would be okay and that they would work out. But he stands his ground.

“They do,” you sigh in defeat, casting your eyes to your hands just as a few drops spill over your eyelashes. “But…”

“But what? Why can’t we be together?”

Again, you have no clue what to say.

“Money means nothing to me, if that is the issue. If not, please tell me what is. I want you, (Y/N), please.”

“I can’t! I just can’t!” You finally cry out, and this time, Laurie does take action.

He rushes back over to your side, wrapping his arm around your body and softly shushing you, wondering what was going on in your mind. He didn’t say anything, though, he just comforts you in this time, making sure you feel safe and cared for.

“I can’t provide a love you deserve,” you choke out, your voice broken and strained from crying. “I don’t know how to love someone, I would not know how to properly show you or give that to you.” Laurie is a little taken aback by your admission. Out of all the things that could have been wrong, he did not think this would be it.

“Isn’t that the beautiful thing about love, though, figuring that sort of thing out together? Learning about one another on a more deeper level, the way we like our tea or coffee prepared, what makes us tick, what helps us fall asleep. All of it. And I want that with you.”

By now, you moved your body to face Laurie, meeting his eyes as he speaks so quietly and eloquently. His hand raises up to your face to brush a stray piece of hair away from your eyes and tucks it behind your ear, though his hand lingers on your cheek.

“Please, (Y/N). I know you are scared, but it would be so wonderful to have the chance to show you how to love.”

The sincerity in his voice was very clear, and it was making your heart race in your chest. Slowly, he leans forward and gently presses his lips to your forehead, his eyes fluttering shut as he remains there for a moment before pulling back a little.

He then moves on to kiss the apple of your cheek, being as sweet as ever, making sure that not one inch of your face goes unkissed. Your breath catches in your throat and the feeling of bliss spreads over your body as the idea of what was happening finally settles in.

Laurie’s lips trail even further down your face to focus on your jaw, going from your chin to right below your ear, but he takes it a step further. After a small pause, he moves his attention to your neck, however, they are no longer soft and careful kisses.

He picks one spot that sends a slight shiver through your body, chuckling lowly against your skin. His warm breath and soft, pink lips felt so nice, you completely forgot what you were talking about just moments ago.

Laurie takes a chance and bares his teeth, nibbling the skin of your neck for just a few seconds. A gasp flies out of your mouth and your hand comes up to tug at his hair, like it was a natural thing for you to do. He lets out another laugh at your reaction and goes back to kissing all over, soothing the area with his tongue for a fleeting moment.

“Stay with me,” he mumbles through kisses, not wanting to stop just yet, but he needed to. His head rises to look at you, his beautiful green eyes shining in the candlelight, something you’ve grown so fond of seeing, so much that you prefer seeing him in this limited lighting rather than daylight; he appeared so angelic at this time of night and in such an intimate setting.

“Laurie…” you breathe out, sniffling a little even though your tears have subsided with his kisses, “I just want you to be happy.”

“You make me happy,” he replies with no hesitation at all. The sincere look in his eyes returns, but as does the watery glaze, the realization that you could be close to walking away from all of this. “You make me so unbelievably happy, (Y/N). I don’t think you understand. I don’t want anyone else, you are it for me.”

“But how do you know? There could be a wonderful woman waiting for you to sweep her off her feet in Europe, looking for someone who cares so deeply and will love her unconditionally, and I do not deserve that.”

“You do deserve it, mon chéri.” The new pet name sends a warm feeling throughout your chest. It felt so personal and heartfelt, and stuns you a little to the point where you freeze. “You have no idea how wonderful you are. You are the woman I want.”

His words finally sink in and it prevents you from pushing him further away, your tears once again making their way down your cheeks, but Laurie is quick to brush them away with his thumb and comfort you.

“Hey, hey, shhh,” he coos, bringing your head into his chest as he lays you back down with him, allowing you to cry again for as long as you need. “It’s alright, my darling.” He just lays there, his right hand gently stroking your back up and down as a way to soothe you, but then he starts to hum some tune quietly.

The smooth sound of his voice and almost shy touch to your back was lulling you to sleep, but you knew this conversation wasn’t quite over just yet.

“You still there?” He asks quietly, not wanting to wake you if you had happened to fall asleep. His hand raises and starts messing with the ends of your hair, combing his fingers through some of the knots, trying to be as careful as possible to not tug at any too hard and cause you any pain.

“Mhm,” you mumble into his neck, the scent of his cologne still lingering from earlier in the day, a scent that you’ve grown very fond of, one that you could smell a thousand times over and never get tired of.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” You hesitate to answer his question, but you know he needs an answer of how you’re feeling. Sitting up, you take a deep breath and look out the window, not moving from his side.

“I…care for you so deeply, Laurie,” the words begin to spill from your lips, and by the tone of your voice, Laurie is preparing for the worst. He sits up with you, though he scoots away just a little, ready to be rejected, like he has been before. “And I want you, I do. If you are okay to take me as I am. A young woman with no sense of direction in her life, no fortune to share, no insane wealth of knowledge or talent like my cousins or any other-”

Laurie is quick to cut you off with a kiss, silencing you to prevent you from speaking down on yourself anymore. His slender fingers cradle your cheek, a stream of tears still falling and melting into his warm hand.

The kiss lasts for a few seconds, Laurie not wanting to pull away just yet. But when he does, his forehead presses against yours, his breath fanning over your face, reminding you of all the nights spent with him, and how you have fallen for him just as much as he has fallen for you.

“You should not speak of yourself like that. You are incredibly smart, a very talented writer, and remarkably beautiful, might I add. Any man would be so fortunate to have you, I promise you that.”

“Then consider yourself very fortunate, Laurie,” you whisper, keeping your eyes on your hands for the moment, too scared to look up at him yet. However, he takes matters into his own hands and raises your chin up with his knuckle, sending butterflies flying throughout your stomach.

A small grin stretches his lips, his green eyes shimmering with adoration as your feelings finally come to light.

“I will be by your side through everything. I love you and I am here to prove that, my darling. And I could not be more joyful that you are giving me the chance to guide you and show you what it means to love and to be loved. Everyone deserves it, especially you.”

“I love you,” your voice comes out slightly strained, fearing that it would be the wrong thing to say. “And I know I don’t know what it means just yet, but I have never felt this way with anyone before, and while it is a scary feeling, I can tell that it is so special and magical.”

Laurie chuckles quietly and kisses you once more before laying back down with you in his arms, closer than any other night you’ve spent with one another, but it felt natural.

It felt right.

“It is very magical, and I promise to show you all the beauty in it, and love you as you deserve to. Because if there is one thing that I know for sure in this life, it’s that you deserve the world, and I promise to give that to you, my darling.”

#laurie laurence #little women #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet #laurie laurence x reader #laurie laurence imagines #laurie x reader #laurie laurence imagine #theodore laurence #little women fanfic #theodore laurie laurence #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

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g-xix · 6 months

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okay but a coming and supporting ginge at his Sunday league fic?? like super close friends who have this first kiss after a match where he makes a really good save??? Would be so cute if you’re still looking for ginge!fic ideas 🫶🏻

Sunday League | AngryGinge13

THINGS TO KNOW -AngryGinge plays as a Goalkeeper in football -He's hot -I've never watched Sunday league in my life, idfk what im writing abt here.

-October, Autumn weather was steadily rolling in when your best mate Morgan had his football game over the weekend -"You coming to watch?" He asked, cheeks tinted pink as he dropped into the driver's seat besides you, fastening his seatbelt before looking at you for your answer -"You know I don't know much or really care about football that much?" You shivered, the car's seats feeling almost frozen despite the fact it was just Autumn. -Ginge noticed your coldness and plopped his jacket in your lap and put the car heaters on, before pulling out -You always had a little bit of a crush on your mate Morgan, and as he looked back- putting his arm around the back of your seat to check he road before pulling out, you felt yourself blushing at the way his biceps peeked from beneath his jersey, his fingers just close enough to brush your shoulder and send electricity racing down your skin -You'd only known one another for a couple years, but had definitely become close friends. -So close that you often wondered whether your hopes of it developing into something more were ridiculous. -"Well, I don't care if you don't know much about football," He shrugged, "I like having you there with me." His words brought a certain warm to your heart from their sweetness, and you could only feel yourself melting inside as he leaned over with a cheeky grin. "...Plus you're my lucky little lady- always save more goals when you're watching"

-That last line was what sold you- and before you knew it, you were wrapped up in a woolly scarf, beanie and even your gloves- the Autumnal chill too harsh for you to go out unprepared -It wasn't a massive game- just a Sunday league one, and you could walk down to the pitch and find a place to watch in there -You got there and wasn't expecting many people to actually be there watching, but there was a little queue outside the pitch which surprised you, considering you thought it was just a little Sunday League game -Turns out Strathon (neighbouring, and most competed) town's team was going to be playing against Morgan's team. -Little breakfast bar in the pavilion area was packed with lads getting their early pints going and people just basking in the warmth -You joined in the pavilion, blowing on your fingers and warming yourself up... -Your nose was bright red and stinging, along with your ears. Felt like bloody Winter. -As you ordered yourself a hot chocolate, you felt a weight drop onto your shoulders. -You wheeled around and spotted a grinning Morgan behind you, his arm draped around your shoulder, hands kitted in the keeper gloves -"See you arrived alright, pet." He gave your head a little pat with one of the gloves, flicking the fluffy bobble of your beanie -"Yeah, wouldn't miss it for... much." You answered slowly as intrusive thoughts slowed your thinking. Morgan just laughed, already knowing your reason -He looked damn good in his kit- flicking his head so his fringe fell back, chest large and puffed confidently as he punched his gloves together, clearly excited for himself

-You let him get down to the pitch and warm up, watching from the pavilion and walking down into the stands after a ten or so minutes when everyone started running to get to their seats -Despite not being a massive football fan, you were a bit nervous for Morgan. -For some reason, you really wanted to see him do well. And you hadn't seen him play before, especially not actually trying hard before, so you were praying for him to pull out a masterclass.

-And by god by half time were you on edge. -Surprisingly, for someone who was generally uninterested in football, the tense atmosphere had you stood up the majority of the match -Morgan had been working hard in goal, some of his saves having you screaming as every time your heartrate shot up, fearful of Morgan missing. -Clearly though Morgan could hear your excited yells from pitchside, as he clearly let out a laugh each time he caught the ball or punched it away- his eyes drifting just slightly left to try catch a glimpse of your ecstatic face before kicking the ball out again -So far, Morgan hadn't let any goals in either- the score a solid 0-0. -That did however mean you were bricking it for the second half. -Second half, your heartrate was above 80 for much of the game. -And you couldn't help but admire how good Morgan looked (which only had your heartrate going higher) -His fringe was messy and spiked about his head, and the developed muscle definition on his legs did have you feeling a bit feral in the stands -Somehow you managed to calm your nasty thoughts down and focus on the game, though, instead settling for bricking the second half. -You watched as Morgan booted the ball down pitch, one of the forwards controlling it and making a break through the defence line- getting you up and out of your seat, face pressed in your mittened hands in suspense as you watched the forwards do his thing and swing his leg back before... -Yells and cheers were heard as you and the rest of your row all got onto you feet, celebrating the forwards that'd been scored, as well as Morgan, who'd set it up in the first place. (Though it might've just been you who was cheering for Morgan, there) -Your head flicked back to Morgan in goal and you watched as his he let out a victorious yell of his own, patting his mate on the back before looking out into the crowd- his eyes scanning the crowd before they found your own, as indicated by the grin that lit up on his face, his eyes sparkling even brighter as he pointed with the gloved finger straight at you- a little shoutout to his unofficial-but-both-of-you-wanted- WAG. -And it was clear you were passionate for Morgan when one of the defenders got in Morgan's way and ended up letting Salford let a goal in- Morgan could hear you yell WANKER from the stands despite the uproar from both sides of the crowd and the rest of the pitch's yells. He couldn't help but let out a chuckle at being able to hear you despite the slight annoyance of conceding a goal.

-The full 90 minutes had elapsed and still your heart rate was through the roof, as the ref blew the whistle and it was decided- penalties were going to be taken. -The opposition took the first penalty... And Morgan's fingers brushed it, only just letting it in. -But luckily, your town scored one as well. -The next one also went in, and Morgan yelled a curse out, your heart thumping in your chest in fear. -And you were thanking God as the next ball went in, as your town scored once more -You coudn't help but admire Morgan in goal, sizing up the opposition as he waited for them to shoot. Morgan just looked so good, hitting his gloved hands together and bouncing from side to side, all too good looking in his kit -All admiring was cut short as you watched the shooter take his run up though, striking the ball and sending it mid-left... -Morgan caught the ball, pulling it tight to his chest and skidding to the side as he saved the pen, a scream leaving your throat along with the rest of your stand as you all cheered the save, watching Morgan let out a yell of his own, completely high on the adrenaline as he rolled the ball out and jumped, looking back to your stand -His head moved bit by bit slowly until he found you in the stands, the grin lighting up on his face once more as he found you- lifting his hands and signing the love symbol as best he could with his gloved hand, making your heart swell a bit as you felt your cheeks blush a bright pink, making heart hands at him before crouching down behind the people in front of you so that he didn't see how bright your cheeks were glowing (and only glowing brighter by the second) -You had your fingers crossed behind your back as you watched your team take the third penalty, the same forwards that had scored earlier took the run up, striking the ball hard and sending it up right... and crashing past the goalie's fingers and into the net behind.

-Screams filled your stands as the front few rows began jumping over the wall to go and join the winning team on the pitch- the bustle around you sending you forwards also, leaving you no choice but to get up and onto the pitch as well. -"Y/NNNN!" You heard your name yelled happily, before feeling a great force run into you -Morgan's arms wrapped around your waist, picking you right up as you squealed happily, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and leaning into his body whilst he gave you a joyous spin, his heat radiating through the thin kit and warming you up greatly also, the hug slightly sweaty from Morgan's playing, though neither of you cared -"You were bloody brilliant!" You exclaimed as Morgan placed you back on the floor, getting up onto the tips of the toes to place a little kiss against his cheek whilst your arms were still wrapped around one another -You took your arms off Morgan's shoulders, one of Morgan's hands leaving your waist and coming up to his face to touch the place where your lips had left a kiss against his cheek. You could feel a blush rising to your cheek as Morgan paused completely to acknowledge the kiss, whilst his other arm still remained around your waist- his eyes looking off into the distance as if completely zoned out. -"I played great?" He repeated, and you could see a little grin start forming on his face as his eyes came back into focus before meeting yours, the cheeky grin now fully formed on his face as he tapped his lips with a gloved finger. "Surely I deserve a bit more for that then..." -"What, you want a proper snog?" You joked, though you could feel your heart lurch into your throat, almost making you choke up as you felt a nervousness wash over you. It wasn't quite clear whether Morgan was just giving friendly banter at this point or genuinely trying for something... -"Only if it's from you," He shrugged with the grin still plastered on his face, though he broke eye contact to look to the ground almost as though he were nervous, himself. -Fuck it. -You got back onto the tips of your toes, one hand resting on his cheek to pull his face down to yours so that you could press your lips onto his own firmly... before pulling away approximately after a millisecond of contact. -Morgan's eyes fluttered open. -"What, that's all?" -"You want more? You fucking initiate it then, it's nerve-wracking, you know?" -"Fine!" -THERE. Morgan got that great big snog he was looking for. -His arm snaked around your shoulders, holding you possessively as his lips met yours, fireworks fizzing and exploding in your stomach and making your heart thump even harder than it was at the start of the second half. You were sure he could taste the coffee and cocoa butter on your lips as well, as it felt almost as though he were chasing something- the way his lips moved on top of yours so passionately. -"GOWARN MORGAN!" The cheers from his teammates were what broke the kiss up, your lips detaching from his as you let out a laugh, burying your head into the crook of his neck, nose warming against his body- hot from the adrenaline of kissing and football. You could feel Morgan's body shake slightly as he was slapped on the back by his teammates, shouting a variety of other praises and cheering for him for "Finally getting some..." -You personally? -Couldn't be more grateful for the fact you'd come to watch the match and were now in the arms of your first kiss.

BONUS SCENE!

You waited by the car, taking a sip of your gingerbread latte and checking the time on your watch. It'd been almost a whole forty minutes since Morgan had said he'd be out the changing room in a sec, and had given you enough time to get through three peanut butter cookies from the pavilion and two hot drinks.

It had been courteous of him to offer to drive you back, especially after your little moment on the pitch (which still had you smiling giddily and blushing when you thought about it), but you were half considering just walking home, when-

"SORRY, I didn't mean to take that long!" The back door of the changing rooms leading into the car park swung open, as a dishevelled looking Morgan flipped his head, flicking his fringe out of his head as he jogged over to you and the car.

"Yeah, you took your time," You responded, opening the passenger seat door as Morgan opened the car, chucking his duffel bag in the boot and plopping his ass in the driver's seat.

The car wobbled a bit as the two of you sat down, and as you reached over to put the radio on- Morgan leaned back to grab his seatbelt when something shiny fell out of his pocket.

"Oh shoot, you dropped-"

You held up the four or so shiny packets that'd fallen out of his pocket.

TROJAN CONDOMS XL STIMULATION WHERE IT COUNTS-

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" You exclaimed, dropping them back down and rushing to unbuckle your seatbelt, jaw dropped whilst Morgan scrambled to pick the other three up and shouted "NONONONO-"

"THEY'RE NOT MINE, I PROMISE, PLEASE JUST REALISE-"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY'RE NOT YOURS, ARE THEY FUCKING USED?!"

"YES- I MEAN- NO, NO OF COURSE THEY HAVEN'T BEEN USED-"

"wHY DO YOU EVEN HAVE THSOE RIGHT NOW?!"

"I CAN EXPLAIN-"

"ARE THEY MEANT TO BE FOR US?!"

You looked past Morgan as saw the rest of the team exiting the locker rooms, patting one another on the back as they said goodbye- one of the players spotting Morgan and yourself in the car- his face stretching in a cheeky grin as he pointed at the two of youse, drawing attention from the other boys as he yelled:

"USE 'EM WELL, EH MORGAN?" He passed a wink on to you as well, making you groan and slide down your car seat in embarrassment, hands pressed over your face as Morgan tried not to cringe too hard himself.

"Yeah, they were the ones that gave it," Morgan explained wearily, rubbing his face with a hand of his own as he tried not to make eye contact with the others outside the car.

"It was only a kiss, anyways..."

"Yeah well, that's what The Killers said as well and look how that ended up."

You couldn't help but deadpan up at Morgan whilst he tried not to burst out laughing at what he thought was god-tier comedy.

And as if it couldn't get any worse, his phone was connected to the car's sound system-

"OI BIXBY, play Mr Brightside on Spotify!"

Hearing those starting chords from the car's tinny radio system drew a second groan from you as you sunk even further into your seat, much to Morgan's amusement as he cackled and pat your head.

"Get used to the shitty jokes, love, I'm taking you out for dinner tonight for a first date so you better start liking me sooner or later..."

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WELLLL IT'S BEEN A WHILE SINCE WE'VE SEEN SOME ANGRY GINGE CONTENT HA'NT IT??!! Much love n hoping everyone enjoyed bc i LOVE LOVE LOVE a little bit of autumn fanfiction it's such a cute lil vibe teehee

Hope you enjoyed reading!! Feel free to interact- whether that be a comment, vote or follow! Requests open, feel free to submit what u wanna see... Much love!!

To see more, here's my MASTERLIST

And here's my WATTPAD, with 50+ more oneshots to read

#angryginge13 #angryginge #angry ginge #morgan burtwistle #fluff #oneshot #youtube #youtuber #twitch #twitch streamer #sidemen #danny aarons #aanny daarons #wroetoshaw #ksi #tobjizzle #zerkaa #miniminter

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astroboots · 2 years

Text

RED FLAGS ║ PART 7

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Steven Grant x female reader x Marc Spector (x hints of Jake Lockley)

Summary: Your subconscious is trying to tell you something important about the choices you have to make. Or alternatively: is it still a threesome if the two men are alters?

Content: Stefon voice: This chapter has everything: angst, vaginal sex, anal sex, threesomes, DP sex.

Word Count: 8,165

Series Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[PREVIOUS] - [NEXT]

You stare up at the shadows on the ceiling above your bed, willing yourself to fall asleep.

But it’s simply not happening.

Every time you close your eyes to the darkness, your brain takes it as an invitation to play a slideshow of this evening’s highlights.

Marc showing up at your door, Marc holding you on the DLR, Marc's face inches from your own in front of the fish tank, Marc tucking you into the taxi. The images play behind your eyelids over and over and over again like a broken merry-go-round until you’re dizzy with it and dart up from your bed to pace the distance of your flat for a good twenty minutes, calming your jittery nerves enough that you can lay still long enough, close your eyes– only for the reel to start again.

Get up–walk around–lie down–replay–and so it goes. Again and again and again.

You don’t get much sleep that night.

Friday morning comes early.

You must’ve fallen asleep at some point because you wake to your alarm blaring, but your sore back and the heavy dull ache behind your eyes tell you it was not nearly enough rest.

One look at the clock informs you that you have 15 minutes to get yourself together and out the door or you’ll be late for work. It’s a mad scramble, and you earn yourself a bruised shin courtesy of the bloody ottoman, but you make it out the door and to the tube just in time, dashing down the stairs and squeezing yourself through the already-closing doors as the morning commuters around you grumble.

Pressed up between a grumpy construction worker and an even grumpier 20-something office worker, you’re holding onto your belongings for dear life as the train sways, trying to make sure you’ve got everything you’re meant to, when you realise the jacket in your hand is not one of your own.

It’s Marc’s.

There’s no need for another layer in the overpacked warmth of the train, and it’d be too hard to manoeuvre yourself into it in the minimally-available free space anyhow. You drape it over your arm instead, the way you might if you were just… holding it for a friend. There it stays for the entirety of your commute until you exit the station into the damp chill of late Autumn London fog so heavy it’s nearly drizzling.

You glance at the jacket. The sensible thing to do here would be to just put the bloody thing on, but for some reason you can’t quite bring yourself to do it. Instead, you shiver your way through the two block walk to your office, arriving cold and clammy and feeling all together out of sorts.

On top of that, your sleepless night and slapdash makeup application are apparently not doing you any favours, because once you arrive at work, no less than three of your coworkers ask if you’re ill. With as polite of a smile you can muster, you push off their concern and get to work. Busying yourself with small, mindless tasks, you manage to get through most of the morning without thinking overly much about anything.

That lasts right up until 11:47am when your phone pings out, rattling against the surface of your desk.

Steven Hiya love! 🥰 What did the sushi 🍣 say to the bee 🐝?

Steven’s silly random texts usually bring a smile to your face, and this one still does, but today it’s accompanied by a sickening swoop of your stomach and a heavy feeling that weighs you down, slowing your fingers so that it takes you twice as long as usual to type a response.

You I don’t know… What did it say?

Steve Waaaasa-bee!!!!! 🤪🤪🤪

You Oh my god!

Steven Speaking of which, how do you feel about sushi for dinner tonight? Shall I get us some from that Eat Tokyo place on my way to your office? 🍣🍱😊

You glance at Marc’s jacket where it’s sitting, innocently folded atop your purse by the side of your desk, and tear your eyes away. Guilt over your actions yesterday comes crashing down on you all over again like a ton of bricks. You can’t imagine sitting with Steven in his flat eating dinner under the watchful eyes of Gus 2.0, The Imposter while lying to his face about what you did last night. The very idea makes your already unhappy stomach turn.

You Sorry. I have Friday social drinks with the team tonight and I’m getting the side eye for having missed too many. Raincheck? xx

Drinks with your team is predictably awful.

It’s a longstanding social obligation at the end of each week that you’ve never enjoyed. Too much boozing and Graham from two cubicles down tends to get handsy and start hovering too close once he’s on his sixth pint. You’ve happily foregone it most weeks since you started dating Steven.

Tonight though, it’s the lesser of two evils and the perfect excuse.

Since it’s Friday, the pub closest to your office is an overpacked mess. The floors are sticky from spilt beer, and the rancid smell of what must either be old cider or piss has permanently seeped into the cracks of the wooden beams. You’ve entirely lost count of the number of elbows jammed into your back, and your voice has gone hoarse from shouting to be heard over the unnecessarily loud music and cluttered conversation taking place all around you.

The evening drags on. Sleep-deprived and exhausted, you find yourself zoning out, eyes drawn to the large fish tank in the corner of the pub. It’s a standard collection, a few guppies, a fat Gourami fish that shimmers red and a handful of goldfish swimming about.

One is almost orange in its goldenness, nothing like Gus’ more stark golden hue. Another one has the same colouring as Gus but is too skinny to pass, the third one… hmmm. That one is a bit more promising. It isn’t one finned, but it’s the right size and colour, and one fin is even a bit smaller than the other, so maybe–

Oh god, what are you doing?

Are you seriously scoping for another replacement fish right now? You need to stop.

Shaking your head to snap yourself out of it, you turn your attention back to the conversation at your table.

“My son’s gotten into a phase where he won’t stop watching Finding Nemo on rerun,” Poppy from accounting is saying next to you. “He loves that movie. Wants me to make him a Nemo costume for Halloween this year. Must’ve told me twenty times to ‘make sure it’s only got one fin.’”

A shiver works its way down your spine. The words feel accusatory somehow, even though you know that she couldn’t possibly have known what you were up to yesterday. You’re also pretty sure Nemo technically had two fins, one was just smaller than the other, but you’re not about to correct her when it’s all you can do to push down the image of Gus that’s trying to swim up to the surface of your mind.

From across the table one of the other accountants chimes in, saying how their kids love the movie as well, and then it’s a pile on of enthusiasm, everyone blathering on about their kids watching Nemo on rerun.

Nodding vaguely, you pretend to be following along in the conversation, but you keep having flashes throughout of the Imposter Fish and his two whole fins swimming around in Gus’ tank like he owns the place. Your skin prickles like you’re about to break out in hives.

You stand abruptly, nearly knocking your chair over in the process, earning yourself concerned and questioning stares from around the table.

Shit.

“I’ll… um… I’ll just grab another round for the table, shall I?” you blurt out, trying to salvage your dignity or at least the situation, then escape to the bar.

Ordinarily it would take an eternity to get the bartender’s attention on a busy night like this—a good twenty minutes to be spotted in the crowd, if you’re lucky. But tonight, on the one night when the wait would have been a welcome reprieve, the bartender spots you almost instantly and prepares your order with similarly unwelcome speed. That’s how you find yourself stacking pint after pint in your arms, cradling them as best as you can as you reluctantly start back towards your table not five minutes after you left.

You’re struggling to balance the drinks and evade the throng of people as you make your way through the crowded room when you spot him, and it feels like your heart stops.

There’s a man by the fish tank, his back leaning against a wooden beam. You only see him out of the corner of your eye at first, but the stiff, almost militant posture and rich black curls, slicked back but starting to unfurl from the heat and humidity of the pub, are unmistakable.

Why is he here!?

Time slows to a crawl, and you forget to breathe as the longest second you’ve ever experienced in your life stretches out and out and out until the lack of oxygen in your brain has you convinced that it’s Marc you’re staring up at. You walk forward, even as the firmness of the floor beneath you gives. All you can see is his wide back covered by the brown canvas jacket, identical to the one Marc had lent you last night. But that can’t be right, because you still have it. It’s on your chair, isn’t it?

Time has never unfolded so slowly as you watch the man turn his shoulder, presenting a full view of his face only for you to see that his eyes aren’t gorgeously brown. Nose, nothing at all remarkable or unique. His jaw is round instead of the ridiculously cut sharpness you’re so used to seeing.

There’s not a single feature in the man’s face that is as sharp or striking as Marc and Steven and with that realisation time slams forward then resumes its normal pace. Your stomach drops, landing on the sticky flooring near your feet.

You don’t want to be here.

Turning back to your table, you drop off the ordered drinks, as you murmur an apology about needing the loo.

Mumbling ‘excuse me’s and ‘sorry’s as you dash through the throng of crowds, you push your way to the ladies room at the far end of the pub where you find your salvation through the door marked with a silhouette of a woman.

There’s a row of stalls, but you don’t bother checking each for cleanliness the way you usually do. Just make a beeline for the furthest one, thankful that it turns out to be unoccupied. You flip the lock and sit down on the rim of the toilet, eyes flitting over the bits of used gum that’ve been rolled up and tacked onto the cracked tiles. There’s soggy bog roll pooling around your shoes courtesy of a previous visitor, but you scarcely care, too relieved to have some space for yourself to just breathe for the first time this evening, without interruptions or anything to remind you of Gus or Marc or Steven.

That reprieve barely lasts for two seconds.

As if on cue, the main door to the ladies slams open. A group of women pours in, all shouting zealously, and there’s no sound isolation to protect you from hearing every bit of the conversation from where you sit.

“Pet, listen to me. If he loved you, he wouldn’t be lying to you now would he?” comes a shrill, concerned voice.

“It’s not like that. You don’t understand, he was just worried about how I’d take–” Before she even finishes her sentence, another voice cuts in, even shriller than the first.

“No! I don’t care what his excuse is. No partner worth a damn would lie to someone they’re in a relationship with. You need to dump that liar!”

The words plunge into your chest with a painful twist that tears through your insides, making your cheeks and eyes both burn. The universe certainly seems set on hammering some point home tonight, but this is really just a bit unfairly on the nose now, isn’t it?

Hunching over in the cramped space of the stall, you dig your elbows into your knees and hide your face in your hands. You don’t want to be listening to this. Can’t handle it right now. Just can’t.

Quickly, before they have time to say more, you stand and smooth a hand over your clothes and hair, as though making yourself a smidge more presentable might somehow smooth out some of your inner turmoil.

Taking a deep steadying breath, you exit the stall. You hesitate for a moment before approaching the sink and hurriedly washing your hands, not quite willing to sacrifice personal hygiene or the appearance, at least, of normalcy. By now, the group of women have converged on their unlucky friend, cornering her against the far wall as they continue to rant on about lying liars who lie and exactly what liars deserve. (The worst, apparently, as far as these ladies are concerned.)

Oh god. You have to get out of here.

You do, hastily fleeing the loo and fighting your way back to the table. You must look as rough as you feel, because you don’t even have a chance to open your mouth before Poppy shoots you a concerned look.

“Are you alright? You look as if you've seen a ghost.”

“Um… No, actually.” Grabbing the lifeline that’s been offered, you make a dramatic showing of feeling ill, “I’ve been feeling a bit under the weather all day, and it’s really caught up with me now. I’m going to head off early tonight.”

You nod your way through the condolences and well wishes, picking up your handbag and gingerly retrieving Marc’s jacket from the back of the chair as you make your polite goodbyes by rote, and then exit the pub as quickly as possible given the crowd.

Outside, the rain is bucketing down. It’s standard weather for London this time of year, but tonight it feels like one more bit of pointed commentary by the universe, and you huddle miserably under the pub awning.

You just want to go home.

Steven’s place is only two stops away by tube—if you leave now, you can be there in less than eight minutes. But even as you think it, you realise you can’t go to his. As much as you want Steven, want to burrow into the comfort of his embrace and never come out again, that wouldn’t be fair to him.

Instead you unlock your phone and pull up the Uber app.

It’s Friday, in the centre of Soho, and the only Uber that accepted your request is 30 minutes away (having to make a drop that is nowhere nearby, despite what the app is telling you) not to mention the surge in pricing. You confirm anyway, unable to bear the thought of braving the crowded trains for the long commute back to your flat.

Then you wait.

The awning isn’t nearly wide enough to protect you from the rain, and frigid water rebounds off the concrete, splashing onto your feet and legs and soaking through your shoes until your toes are swimming in the cold dampness of your socks.

Marc’s jacket is folded neatly over your arm, still dry. You think about how warm it was in the cab last night, how it smelled of him, but even with the chill seeping through your jumper, you still can’t bring yourself to put it on. For a brief second, you consider going back into the pub where it’s warm and dry, but being cold and wet seems like the preferred option at the moment. It feels like what you deserve.

This is a right proper bloody fucking mess, and it’s all your fault.

You and Marc almost kissed. Might have done if he hadn’t pulled back. You might have betrayed Steven—the man you love. And for what?

You’re attracted to Marc. You can admit that much to yourself.

You try to tell yourself it’s just because you’re attracted to the body he shares with Steven, but you know it’s more than that.

You’ve grown to care about Marc independently of his connection to Steven. You look forward to the quiet mornings you spend with him. Enjoy watching his micro-expressions while you prattle on about your days during breakfast. The small quirk on one side of his lip, when you tell him something he finds amusing. The way he grunts like a displeased pug when he spots another mess that Steven has left in the kitchen.

Impossible though it had seemed to begin, he’s become your friend. There’s no denying that after your ridiculous caper with the fish last night—you’d only go that far for a good friend, a trusted one.

Someone you really care about.

Someone you almost kissed.

You huff out a choked laugh and bury your face in your hands, disgusted with yourself all over again.

But it’s not really even about the almost-kiss, is it? Though that’s certainly bad enough.

It’s about the fact that you’re lying to your boyfriend—mostly by omission, but sometimes also… not. That you’ve been lying to him for so long that it’s somehow become a “normal” part of your everyday life. So routine you’d almost forgotten you were doing it.

It’s about the fact that Marc—your friend Marc—came to you for help, and you were so eager to help him that you didn’t stop to consider the consequences. That now you’ve gone from lying to Steven—your boyfriend Steven—to actively helping to deceive him.

Somewhere along the way, you stopped seeing Marc as the antagonist in the story of your lives together. And now you've allowed yourself to become his co-conspirator against Steven, which is exactly the opposite of what you wanted.

You’re deceiving Steven for Marc. Going along with him because he says it’s better for Steven that way. But is it? Is it really better? You don’t think so, but… you don’t know.

You believe that Marc wants what’s best for Steven.

You believe Steven deserves to know the truth about himself.

Two truths, but incompatible ones. And you’re the one stuck in the middle. It’s an impossible choice. No matter what you do now, you’re going to be betraying someone. Choosing one of them over the other.

And you don’t know how to live with that.

Bile rises in your throat, and you have to close your eyes and swallow hard. You dig your fingers into the material of Marc’s jacket, twisting it in your hands as you curl into yourself.

You’re so caught up in your misery that you barely register the slosh of tires against the rain, looking up just in time to see your Uber pull up to the curb. Hunching your shoulders, you hug the jacket and your bag to your chest, shielding them from the flood of frigid water that drenches you as soon as you leave the protection of the awning, and quickly make your way across the sidewalk.

Climbing hurriedly inside the vehicle, you close the door behind you and set everything on the seat beside you, guiltily smoothing out the wrinkles in Marc’s jacket caused by your rough handling.

“Bloody hell, sweetheart, you’re soaked. That’s London weather for you innit?” the driver remarks, and you look up to see him watching you in the rearview mirror.

He’s not wrong. You feel like a drowned rat, as you catch sight of your reflection in the darkness of the passenger window.

“Same as always, isn’t it?” you manage, hoping that will be the end of the forced pleasantries, and you’re grateful when he hums in agreement and turns his attention to the road.

The air in the car is warm and stuffy after the wet chill of the outside, the leather seat hot and sticky against your back even through your wet jumper. Your face feels overheated, and you lean your forehead against the coolness of the windowpane, staring blindly out through the rain-fogged glass as the car pulls away from the curb.

The evening traffic outside seems endless. The road is chockablock, and you’re stuck in a sea of red and amber tail lights blinking blurrily behind the rain-streaked darkness of the window. Your head rolls against the glass with the rocking motion of the vehicle as it starts and stops with the flow of cars outside, and the old motor rumbles on, making you drowsy.

Worn out from the lack of sleep last night and a day of emotional turmoil, you don’t even notice when your eyes slip close and you drift quietly off to sleep.

The car comes to a halt in the middle of a roundabout. In the rearview mirror, the driver pulls his cap down, covering his eyes and muttering under his breath that “this is as far as we go.”

Looking out the window, you’re confused. There’s nothing you recognize as being anywhere near your flat, but somehow you’re already turning the door handle and stepping out of the car.

You’re in the middle of the road, traffic on all sides of you. Before you have a chance to turn around and protest to the driver, the car is already pulling away, exhaust fumes your only goodbye.

At least it’s stopped raining.

Across the wide street, the St. Martin’s Theatre is lit up in gold. The marquee banner spelling out ‘M.O.U.S.E.T.R.A.P.’ in bright glowing red neon. You start to walk ahead, but nothing is quite as it is or where it should be. Tottenham Court road, which is always busy and buzzing with life, is entirely abandoned. Empty of people.

Next to you, you spot a pastel-coloured bubble tea shop. They’re a dime in a dozen in London, and it does nothing to help you make sense of where you are. It’s not until you reach around the corner and arrive at the familiar teal-coloured facade of Cafe Babka (one of your regular date spots with Steven) that you start to place yourself.

If you turn right up ahead, you’ll reach the British Museum. It is an hour away by tube from your flat. Still, as you make the turn, your building stands there in its square concrete familiarity. You can even see your small balconette on the fifth floor.

There’s a sensation like skipping a track on a record—you don’t remember entering the building or taking the lift up to the fifth floor, but suddenly you’re walking down the hallway to your flat.

Steven is there outside of your door, and the hallway lights up when he greets you with a bright smile and a small wave of his hand. His eyes are as sweet as always when he moves to kiss you.

Then you’re inside your flat, Steven moving with you towards your bed, mouth never leaving yours. Did you unlock the door? You can’t remember, but does it matter? How can you care about details like that when Steven’s lips are on yours like this, soft but hungry.

Somehow, you don’t stumble or run into any of your furniture as he walks you backwards with his kiss, the ottoman and its usual threat to your shins and balance are suspiciously absent. In fact… nothing is where it should be.

You’re disoriented.

Maybe it’s a testament to how good of a kisser Steven is that you’re losing all spatial awareness, but that can’t be the whole explanation. Something is off, but you can’t stop long enough to consider it, too distracted by the way Steven keeps pressing kiss after sweet lingering kiss to your lips, by the heat building low in your belly for him. Can’t stop to think until you find yourself pressed down against the mattress.

Linen sheets stretch endlessly out underneath you, wider than your own double mattress and lower to the ground. There’s sand underneath your foot where it’s hanging off the edge of the bed, and when you look up, you’re met not with your drab white ceiling, but with a large square of wooden planks overhead surrounded by wide open eaves and wooden beams.

This isn’t your flat, it’s Steven’s.

But still… Something's strange. Not quite right. The room seems to swim, lines and contours of the timber overhead blurring together. You drag your eyes to the walls, trying to clear your vision, but no matter how hard you concentrate on the many many books Steven has adorning his dusty shelves, none of them have titles on their thick spines.

That’s not right either.

In fact, everything in Steven’s flat is reversed, like you’re Alice, gone through the looking glass. Shelves that are meant to be on the left are on the right. The kitchen is by the exit instead of the far end. The fish tank looms large over the living room, expanding to eat up half the space of the flat. Gus doesn’t seem to mind though. He’s swimming in happy circles around his new, two-finned tank mate as if he’d never known anything different. Every so often one of them swims close to the corner, and the flash of a reflected fin tricks your eyes into thinking there’s a third fish.

There’s a part of you that wants to pause, take a moment and attempt to make sense of things. But Steven is there, anchoring you to the bed, not giving you a moment to consider your observations or try to connect the dots as he continues to kiss the breath out of you.

His hands are roaming your hips and thighs now, caressing every inch of your flesh that he can reach. One comes up to cup your breast lovingly, your nipple drawing up tight under his palm. Another hand lingers delicately on your throat, and he continues to stroke your hips all at the same time.

It’s good, so good. So much. Overwhelming to the point where you don't even fully register that there are three hands caressing you when, biologically speaking, Steven should only have just the two.

Greedy and determined, those nimble fingers grip into your hips then drift down between your thighs, sliding along the seam of your cunt. Steven groans low and needy against your lips at the wetness he finds there, and he parts your slick folds, gently pressing two fingers into you.

Moaning into his mouth at the pleasurable intrusion, you arch your back in open invitation, encouraging Steven's curled fingers to find that perfect place inside. Aching heat rolls over you in waves, streaming out along your limbs until you’re nearly numb with it. You bend further back, not sure if you're trying to chase the sensation or escape from it. As you do, a warm, firmly-muscled chest presses against your back, and you hear a rasped groan in your ear.

“Fuck, you’re eager for us.”

The tone is brusque and even, rough and warm like sandpaper made of velvet, and nothing like Steven’s. Electric heat shivers up your entire spine because you recognize the owner of the voice.

With a turn of your head, you meet his eyes. It’s all narrowed darkness as Marc holds your gaze for a long moment. His thumb catches under your jaw, tilting you up to him, and then he closes the distance between you, leaning in to press his lips to yours.

Finally.

The brush of lips is soft and measured. Completely unlike Steven’s hungry and eager kisses. Marc has far too much restraint for that. Instead his kiss is slow and controlled, his hand cradling your jaw, thumb caressing your cheeks like he’s savouring the moment. Savouring you.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, an alert pings. A tiny, niggling doubt that makes you wonder what Marc’s doing here, how this can be happening. But you ignore the thought. Don’t question it, because god, you fucking want it. Want him.

Want to be exactly where you are.

You're caught, sandwiched tight between the two of them with little space to spare. Regardless of which way you move, to the front or the back, you only end up closer to them both.

When you push yourself forward, Steven’s fingers slide deeper inside you, his cock twitching against the softness of your stomach. When you push back, Marc’s hardened length meets you, pressing insistently against your lower back as he lazily thrusts against you.

There's nowhere for you to go, and that's fine. Better than fine. It's bloody perfect, because there's nowhere else you'd rather be than trapped between these two men.

Steven licks and nips his way down your breast and stomach in a long line of open-mouthed kisses. White heat tingles and simmers under your skin where his lips have touched, burning you up from the inside out until you’ve all but melted into the mattress from his attentions.

The sharp bump of his nose nudges at the inside of your thighs, and he looks up at you with pleading eyes, begging you to spread your legs for him. Before you even have the chance to comply, Marc’s calloused hands are already there, sliding down and in along the inside of your thighs, spreading them apart until you’re wide open for Steven. The two men moving in perfect simpatico.

Then Steven’s mouth is on you, hot and eager and perfect.

His tongue dips into your pussy without hesitation, licking a wide strip up around your clit and then back down again, and you cant your hips up and onto his tongue. He doesn’t resist. Steven’s always so generous, so trusting and giving in bed. He lets you—encourages you to try and fuck yourself on his beautiful, persistent mouth. Gorgeous, pleasurable heat flickers along your spine, searing into your limbs until you feel it everywhere.

“He’s good with his mouth, huh?” Marc murmurs into your ear, sounding almost admiring.

Opening your mouth, you try to say yes, but your throat is dry with the blinding heat, and nothing comes out, not even a moan. Electricity sparks, shimmering through you with every soft and long lick of Steven’s tongue on you.

You twist your fingers into the bedding beneath you, and the eaves in the ceiling crack and pull around the edges with the motion. The harder you grip the sheets, the deeper the shadowed lines carve into the wood, until they’re giant crevasses, wide enough that you can see the night sky through the gaps.

The pale moon peers down at you, surrounded by bright stars scattered against the blackness. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the stars shine so clear in the light-polluted London sky in all your life, and you dig your fingers in further into the bedding, unwilling to relinquish the view.

“It’s okay. I got you.” Marc’s voice is cajoling and sweet, the same soft tone he used when he held you in his arms to keep you steady on the overground. A part of you wishes he would always speak to you this way. “Think you can come for us?”

You close your eyes, nodding in reply because you think you’d do anything he wanted as long as he asked you so sweetly. Pleasure is already building steadily under the press of Steven’s talented mouth, your orgasm already looming on the horizon.

“That’s it, baby. You’re doing so good,” Marc murmurs.

Everything is ratcheting higher and tighter inside of you, building and building until it’s almost too much. Too good. The feeling rocketing through you is so overwhelming that you can't think, can't move, can’t speak. Would scream or sob or shriek if you could still fucking breathe.

But somehow you still haven’t fucking come. Your orgasm caught somehow, suspended in limbo. It’s like you waited too long, flew too high, and now you're trapped right on the fucking edge, teetering torturously without ever falling over. Sparks dance at the edge of your vision, and you feel lightheaded like you’re going to pass out.

“Come for us.”

Marc’s voice cuts through the cacophony of competing sensations with that single simple order, and everything else disappears.

Your world narrows. There's only the firm weight of Marc’s body anchoring you to the bed. His low, encouraging voice in your ear, whispering praises. Steven’s mouth working hot and eager against you, and the soft warmth in his eyes as he stares up at you with rapt attention, pupils blown wide.

Static fills your ears, and then you come hard on Steven’s tongue.

The pleasure floods your system, blotting out the rest, until your vision darkens and everything sounds like it’s buried underground.

There’s nothing here. Just emptiness. Darkness a mile wide, like the insides of a music box snapped shut.

Are your eyes still closed?

Slowly, your vision repopulates again. Your surroundings filled in like a child playing with a paint-by-numbers app. The bed. The bookshelves. The fishtank. Steven. Marc.

Marc whose gentle hand cups your cheek, drawing you up to meet his eyes. “How do you want it?” he asks. “You want Steven to fuck you?”

Steven who is still draped between your thighs. His tongue drags over his lush bottom lip, savouring your taste, eyes dark and ravenous as he leans back in to lap gently at you again. He’s nowhere near done with you yet.

You huff out a noise, some strange merger of a moan and a hum, meant to be an affirmative, because of course you want Steven.

But your gaze is fixed on Marc’s face, watching the corner of his lips curve. Not snide, or mocking, never that. It’s the same unfeigned, half-smile you’d seen in front of the fishtank the other night, and your head buzzes with lightheadedness at the sight of it.

“Or you want me?” he asks.

You whine at his question, because you do. Of course you do!

But Steven is right there too, resurfacing from between your legs just barely long enough to press an indulgent kiss to the inside of one of your thighs and ask, "which is it, love? Me?"

He turns his head, nose brushing up against your clit as his mouth parts, licking into you, with a ravenous moan. His words are muffled by your body as he continues to speak, “Or do you want Marc's cock filling you up?"

You don’t answer him. Can’t answer him. It’s an impossible choice.

How can you choose one of them over the other?

Next to you, Marc leans closer, pressing a kiss to your temple, nose dragging along the back of your neck, as he speaks.

“Or maybe our pretty girl doesn’t want to choose, hmm?” His arms are against your sides, bracketed you in as he presses you down with his body. “That’s it isn’t it? You just want everything.”

And god help you, he's right. He's so right. You want them both.

You try to take a deep breath, try to inhale because you want to tell them so, but there’s no air in the room. That should be a problem, you think, but it’s not. Even though you’re not breathing, haven’t breathed for fuck knows how long, you feel fine.

So much better than fine.

You’re weightless, practically floating. Could easily drift away if Marc wasn’t pinning you down. Your orgasm is still pulsing between your legs, warm and insistent, but you can’t feel the pulse in your veins or your heart, even though it should be there beating its way out of your chest.

Marc is still watching you softly. Steven too. You nod at them, have to let them know.

“Greedy girl,” Marc says, voice soft and indulgent in a way that makes the words feel like the highest praise.

Wrapping his fingers around your arm, Marc rolls you onto your side facing him. Strong arms wrap around you, caging you against him, as those dark eyes bore into yours. You can barely imagine that there was ever a time that you used to be intimidated by this man, scared of him even, because all you want now is to be closer to him.

Lucky for you, that’s just what he gives you.

Like he can read your mind, Marc’s hand settles on your hip and slides down, down, down the length of your thigh until his palm reaches the bend of your knee. Warm fingers wrap around the joint and pull, hiking your leg up over his waist, opening you to him. He drops his face down to press a soft kiss to your shoulder, then urges you closer still, slotting one thick thigh into place between yours, watching you all the while.

There was a time when you would have quailed under that direct stare, but when you see that ferocious intensity there now, it sends a skitter of elation down your spine.

Relishing his attention, you preen for him as his hand skims up the back of your raised leg and over your hip. Your eyes follow its path, watching as he takes himself in hand and aligns his cock with your slick wet entrance.

You’re a mess for him, dripping and swollen cunt providing no resistance as the blunt tip of his cock pushes in, slow and measured. Marc is unhurried, barely rocking his hips into you, and it’s maddeningly good. It’s all shivery heat and unbearable pressure as he eases his way inside, not stopping until he’s buried to the hilt.

You can’t remember where you are anymore. Your surroundings blur together, and all you know is the perfect weight of Marc inside you, the warmth of his thighs pressed against yours. It’s just you and him in this place, and you could easily get lost in this, forget everything else, but… Something’s not right.

Something important is missing.

“Wait, wait,” you gasp, turning your head to look behind you, but there’s nothing there. No furniture, no room… nothing. You turn back to Marc, “Where’s Steven? I–I want–”

The question doesn’t have time to settle before everything fades back into existence, the bookshelves, the fishtank, the bed seemingly appear from nowhere. There’s a weight shifting behind you on the mattress, and when you turn to peer over your shoulder again, Steven is there, an adoring smile on his face.

“I’m here, love, right here. Not going anywhere,” he tells you when you clutch at him.

Steven’s chest is pressing up against your back, all solid and firm-cut muscles that you never get to see during the day when he’s half-drowning in his oversized clothes.

He has one hand resting on the curve of your hip, gently pulling you back as he presses in closer behind you. You can feel the fat head of his cock nudging hot and slick along the cleft of your ass.

“Can I? Is that alright, love? Want to be inside you.” His voice is desperate, filled with need, and fuck, who are you to deny the man you love?

You nod, and feel Steven repositioning himself behind you. His hand disappears from your hip, and his cock slides against you with more purpose, spreading precome across your skin as he lines himself up. His mouth skims your shoulder, and the shuddering breath he takes burns pleasantly across your skin before he grips your hip and presses in.

His cock slips into you more easily than you expected, barely easing inside before he retreats, then presses in again, a bit farther this time. His mouth lays hot kisses and tender words across the skin of your shoulder as he works himself inside you slowly, inch by thick inch, stretching you open and filling you to the brim.

If there was any space left inside of you, you’re sure that you would be breathing, but you can’t. Can’t even fit air inside your lungs. And oh fuck, Steven isn’t even all the way inside of you yet. Fuckfuck. You don’t know if you can–

A warm hand comes to your cheek, cupping it with a tenderness that makes your heart ache in your chest.

“It’s alright, you’re alright. You’re doing so good, baby. You can take it for us can’t you?” Marc coos.

You nod with a whine, trying to distract yourself with the softness of Steven’s touch. How he’s palming every inch of your skin he can reach, the slope of your ribs, the curve of your breast. His worshipful mouth on your neck. The softly murmured “I love you”s that he sears into your burning skin with his lips.

And that’s a bit easier.

Between Steven’s profuse adoration and Marc’s encouragement, it’s almost too easy to surrender the last bit of your doubt and give into them both.

“There we go. Good girl,” Marc murmurs. He presses an indulgent kiss to your cheek as a reward, and Steven takes over praising you, “that’s it. I knew you could do it. Knew you could take us both, love.”

Then they begin to move.

It’s a gentle rocking rhythm, barely shifting you back and forth between them, but even that is still so fucking much.

You’re overwrought.

Overfull.

All of you feel overexposed like a tender nerve.

But there’s nothing else for you to do but take it, shaking and shuddering between them as you take everything they have to give you. All you can think about is how full you are of both of them, stretched so thin to your limits to the point that you swear Marc and Steven must be able to feel each other through you with every slow, deep, maddening thrust.

Somewhere in the distance a bell rings. You turn your head and crane your neck, chasing the sound. The motion presses you back against Steven, who is right there, nuzzling into the side of your neck, nose pressed tight against the pulse.

His mouth glides over the side of your throat, hot and slick, and you lose yourself to it. The touch is consuming. The edges of his teeth flirt with your sensitive flesh, and then slowly sink in, biting into your neck. The pleasure is sharp and stinging. It’s almost enough to make you forget.

But the melody of bells ringing from afar grows increasingly louder. You try to ignore it but you are about to rip your hair out at the incessant clang.

“Ignore it,” Marc says. He cradles your face, lips tracing the contours of your jaw. “Focus on us.”

It isn’t hard to follow Marc’s commands. Not when his hips cant up and thrust back into you, a deep and mind-numbing slide. For once, you find yourself only happy to obey his words.

But the sound comes again, and you were wrong before. It's not bells, it's the doorbell buzzing. Someone's at the door.

There’s the sound of metal scraping against wood and then the metallic thump-thump of the lock sliding open. You try to squeeze down on Marc’s shoulder for his attention, but it only seems to spur on Steven who lifts his hips, thrusting himself inside you as deep as he goes.

“Wait,” you gasp, because no matter how good Steven feels inside, you’re still distracted by the stranger trying to get into the flat. “There’s someone at the door.”

“There’s no one at the door,” Marc says, pulling back slightly.

The words have a sharp impatient bite, scolding you in that tone that’s so customary from him. You want to frown, make a snarky retort, but he drives himself deep inside you, and pleasure streaks through your limbs until you nearly scream from it.

There are footsteps approaching.

A shadow stretches out in the corner of your eye.

Soon it looms over you, blocking out the muted light in the room, and the air around you shifts. There’s someone else standing at the end of your bed, observing you. You open your eyes and look up. Raven curls and thick brows that frame those familiar gorgeous brown eyes.

The ringing persists, blaring out. It’s not bells or the door buzzer. It’s a siren, flashing and waving red, warning you of danger.

The man looks like Steven. But you know it’s not him—the warmth and adoration reserved for you in those beautiful brown eyes is entirely absent.

It’s not Marc either. Marc doesn’t look at you like you’re some distant curiosity. You’ve seen annoyance, irritation, even anger reflected back at you in his eyes. But he’s never looked at you like you’re nothing to him.

You realise that now.

Panic grabs hold of you, and you sit up quickly, pulling at fistfuls of the sheets that you desperately cover yourself with. You scoot backwards in the bed, clambering up along the mattress, hands fumbling uselessly behind you, reaching for something to grab onto. You’re expecting the firmness of Marc’s chest, the warm touch of Steven’s hand, but there’s nothing.

When you turn to look, the bed is empty. Marc and Steven are no longer with you.

It’s just you and him now.

The man moves towards you, mouth twisted into a predatory smile. The alarm calls out to you again, but it’s too late to warn you now. You’re already trapped—can’t look away from him.

“Hear that?” His tone is flat, voice is devoid of emotion. It sounds neither like Steven's nor Marc’s voice. “It’s time to wake up.”

He comes to the side of the bed, looming over you as he reaches down.

You flinch back, but he’s too big. Too close.

You can’t escape.

Gripping the covers tight, you hunch into yourself, cowering, trying to brace yourself for whatever he’s going to do to you.

But then he reaches right past you.

Doesn’t touch you at all as he retrieves something from the bookcase at the head of the bed, and lays it gently across your lap.

You look down to see a bundle of brown canvas fabric, all soaked from rain and wrinkly from your rough handling.

It's Marc's jacket.

“Don’t forget this, sweetheart.”

With his words, darkness swamps you and everything disappears. There's no light, no warmth, no space—only a blank void slowly being filled with the soft hum of a motor running and the sounds of traffic honking nearby.

Your eyes are still closed as your consciousness is dragged back to an awareness of the sore stiffness lodged in your neck.

You open your eyes with a startled gasp, and then you have to inhale great lungfuls of air into your heaving chest, possibly the first time you’ve actually taken a breath since– oh. Since you fell asleep. You were dreaming.

Slowly but surely, you become aware of your surroundings. The cracked and dry leather seats, the grey felt of the low ceiling, the complete lack of any naked men in this space with you. You’re in a car—not in Steven’s flat or his bed. You’re still in the Uber.

It was just a dream.

Your skin tingles with the memory of being pressed against warm, firm muscles, and the space between your legs still pulses a phantom ache. The echo of Steven’s mouth on you, Marc’s thick length pressing into you, the overwhelming fullness of having them both inside you at once makes you throb. Your face is burning.

You glance at the front seat where the driver seems oblivious. Absent-mindedly you notice that he isn’t wearing a cap as you pray to the universe that you didn’t make any embarrassing sounds during your semi-public sex dream about being manhandled into a threesome by your boyfriend and his alter.

Dear god, what the fuck is wrong with you!?

The sound of bells fills the air just like before, and for a moment you wonder if you’re still trapped in the dream.

“Hey, sweetheart, your phone is ringing.”

The words jolt you from your thoughts. You’re an idiot. It’s not alarm bells, it’s your bloody ringtone.

Grabbing for your handbag, you plunge your hand inside, fumbling blindly until you finally manage to locate your phone. You quickly fish it out, swiping a thumb across the screen to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hi, love. It’s– uhm, it’s Steven.” His voice comes through the phone, nervous and rambling, and it instantly sends your anxiety skyrocketing. “I’m sorry, I know it’s late, and you’re out with colleagues, and I’m sorry, I didn’t want to disturb, but I didn’t know who else to call–”

“Steven!” you interrupt when he shows no signs of getting to the point. It comes out louder and harsher than you intend, and you then force yourself to soften your voice as you encourage him to gather his thoughts, “It’s okay, Steven. Just– What did you need?”

“Could you… um… Could you come over tonight, please? I need to talk to you.”

~ CONTINUE ~

Dedication: to my one and only, the ewe to my ram, my beloved who stays up with me until 4am (her time) to discuss the significant differences between precum and precome (and how the latter clearly denotes sophistication and class 😂😂😂) to our crazy asses that extended this from a three parter to a five parter then an eight and ten parter and now we're looking at twelve parts and if there is more to come then god help us all. I love you always @thirstworldproblemss. xx

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lunaflowers · 8 months

Note

Okay! 💓Could you write something about married couple and s/o wants a baby so bad. But baekhyun is not ready or confused idk. He doesn't want it for now. Reader is really disappointed and sad. She loves babies so much and can't wait have one. But baekhyun's reaction (angry or annoying) is made her angry/sad. A big fight but a happy end please. 🥺🥺 (maybe some tears too)

If it is not okay for you then no problem! 🌼

Thank you 💓

Hope you like this, anon 💖 Pairing: Byun Baekhyun x Reader Word Count: 1.7k Genre: Angst and Fluff Warnings: None that I can think of

The evening had been lovely. You and your husband, Baekhyun, had spent it strolling through the tree lined park near your home. It was verging on autumn and there was a slight chill in the air, but the full cold of fall hadn’t hit yet. The sun had almost completely set but it wasn’t fully dark yet. You two were holding hands and chatting about how your days had been.

You were recently unemployed, having left your job as a nurse due to increasing stress and anxiety. Currently, you were playing full time homemaker so that meant you were home alone all day while Baekhyun was at work at a consultancy firm. The days were long but fulfilling. You tried your best to keep yourself occupied, trying new recipes, as well as arts and crafts, reading and writing and regular exercise. The break was nice and it had you contemplating what you really wanted to do with your life, where your true priorities lay.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something,” you said. Baekhyun had just finished telling you about a new project he was taking on at work, and all the responsibilities that were going to come along with it. He loved his job but you knew how demanding it could be, keeping him at the office for long hours. Thankfully he was paid generously for his hard work.

“What is it?” He looked at you and squeezed your hand a little.

“Well, I was thinking since I’m home now and we’re settled, it might be the perfect time to start trying for a baby. We finally have the time and space for it.”

Baekhyun snorted. “Right. Very funny.”

He kept on walking beside you. You didn’t know what you expected his reaction to be but it certainly wasn’t that. Why would he think you were joking about something like this? “I’m being serious, Baek. Let’s start a family.”

Baekhyun said nothing for a few moments and you waited in tense silence, listening to the gravel crunching under your shoes. This conversation was already not going the way you had anticipated.

“YN, babe, I’ve just spent the last ten minutes telling you about the new client and how I’m project leader and all the extra hours of work I’m going to be taking on and you come back with this?”

“I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. And I know how hard you’re working and I appreciate it so much, especially now. But this is important too.”

Baekhyun scoffed and you felt hurt. “It’s out of the question,” he said, his tone one of finality.

“What? We can’t even talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. There’s no way we can have a baby right now.” He was dismissing you and you felt enraged all of a sudden.

You pulled your hand out of his. “Why are you being so cold?” You had to work to keep your voice even. You weren’t trying to make a scene, there were couples, families, children milling about the place enjoying the evening and you didn’t need to be the story they talked about as they got home.

“I’m not doing this here,” he said, testily.

Annoyed, you began walking ahead of him, back towards the home you shared. You arrived and Baekhyun followed soon after, a look of irritation on his face. “You’re being childish leaving me behind like that.”

“I’m childish? You won’t even talk to me!”

“I told you what I thought.”

“No, you made a decision for the both of us and then acted like I was the unreasonable one for having an issue with that. Do you not want to have kids with me?”

“All I said was not now,” he said, his teeth gritted. He was angry, a rare sight, and seeing him angry only made you more angry.

“What do you mean, not now? We’re both in our thirties, Baek! It’s not like we’re in our early twenties anymore with all the time in the world to wait. It only gets harder the older you get.”

“So what? If it doesn’t happen, it doesn’t happen,” Baekhyun shot back and your jaw dropped.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? I’ve always said I’ve wanted kids. You know this. You said you wanted them too when we got married. And now this? What the fuck, Baekhyun?”

“Don’t you get it, YN? I have enough going on right now as it is. Work is insane, I’m having to work longer and longer hours, take on all these new responsibilities. You quit your job so I have to keep everything afloat financially all by myself. And now you want this?”

Your eyes widened, tears filling them at his words. It felt like he’d slapped you. He’d never made you feel guilty for not working. When you left your job, Baekhyun had been nothing but kind and supportive, telling you that he had everything handled and that you should take your time to decide when and even if you wanted to return to work, that you had nothing to worry about.

The hurt on your face made Baekhyun soften. He tried to walk back his statement, “I didn’t mean it like that… I just meant-”

“Forget it. Just forget I said anything. I’m going to bed,” you said, your voice even. You turned to and began walking down the hallway. You heard your husband calling for your attention but you ignored him. After you had washed up, you got in bed and began to cry silent tears alone. How had it all gone so wrong?

Baekhyun entered the bedroom about an hour later. You closed your eyes as he came in, pretending to be asleep on your tear soaked pillowcase. You were in no mood to talk to him right now.

“YN,” you heard him say from behind you. You pretended you didn’t hear him, staying as still as you could, hoping he would think you were asleep and leave you alone. No such luck. When Baekhyun wanted to talk, he was relentless about it.

“YN, come on…” he said, approaching you from behind. “I know you’re not asleep.” He put his hand on your shoulder and jiggled you lightly.

You turned onto your back and looked up at him with swollen eyes and lips. It was clear that you had been crying this whole time and that broke his heart. He hated seeing you cry more than anything.

“Baby, don’t cry,” Baekhyun said softly. He produced a bouquet of sad looking carnations from behind his back and held it out to you. “Sorry, I know they’re not great but I got them at the gas station. They’re all I could get at this time of night.”

You sat up against the headboard of your bed and said nothing, but you took the bouquet in your hand, fingering the petals of the flowers.

Baekhyun sat down beside you facing you. “I want to apologize for what I said earlier. I never meant to make it sound like I blame you for any stress I’m feeling. And I love having you not work to be honest. I love the fact that you’re always there when I come home, that we get to spend so much more time together.”

You put the flowers down beside you and took his hand in yours. “I appreciate that.” You gave him a sad smile. It obviously didn’t heal your heart but you appreciated his effort in trying to comfort you. Baekhyun was the only man you’d ever been with who actually gave a shit if you cried.

“I’m sorry too. I know you’ve been under a lot of pressure at work and you’ve been so amazing and patient with me. I should’ve brought it up at another time.”

“No. The thing is… you’re actually right. It is something we should be talking about. We’re not getting younger. I just…” He trailed off.

You leaned forward and put a hand on his cheek, stroking it gently. “Talk to me, baby.”

“I’m scared shitless. The idea of being a father fucking terrifies me. Being responsible for a human life. Making sure he or she grows up and is healthy and happy and all the good things. How the fuck am I supposed to do that? What if I fuck it all up?”

You almost giggled but you held it back. You definitely didn’t want to demean Baekhyun’s feelings but the fact that he even thought for a second he might not be a good father was just so ludicrous. He was the most kind and loving person you’d ever met. Any child would be lucky to have him as a father.

“Baekhyun… It’s normal to be scared about being a parent. I am too. But we can’t let it paralyze us.”

Baekhyun sighed, “I know but… It’s a life, you know? It’s forever. It’s not something we can try out for a few months and then decide to get rid of it if we don’t want it.”

“You’re right. But like… I think it’s one of those things where you just have to dive right in. Delaying this forever isn’t going to help.”

He looked up at you with his Bambi eyes and you looked back at him. He looked so young and sweet faced, he definitely didn’t look like a man in his thirties. But he looked tired. Maybe you’d been too preoccupied with what you wanted that you hadn’t realised sometimes he needed you to build up his confidence the way he always did yours.

“Baekhyun, you’re going to be the most amazing father. I’m sure of it. You’re so filled with love and so patient and smart and gentle. Not to mention your child-like spirit.”

He laughed at that, and you smiled.

“Besides, we’re going to be doing it together. It’s a team effort. We can lean on each other like we always do.”

Baekhyun leaned forward and kissed you on the lips. “I like the sound of that.” He pulled you closer to him and wrapped his arms around you. The warmth of his body was so comforting and you leaned into him, breathing in his familiar scent. “So, we’re really going to have a baby, hmm?” He said, softly.

“I mean, we’re going to try.”

“Trying sounds fun. Let’s try right now,” Baekhyun said, kissing you again.

#exo #baekhyun #baekhyun x reader #byun baekhyun #exo baekhyun #exo reactions #exo scenarios #exo fluff #exo angst #exo fanfic #baekhyun fanfic

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moderndaycassandra · 5 months

Text

We're both on the sidewalk, walking opposite directions, about to pass each other.

I look at your hair, gently flowing behind as you walk. I try to turn my gaze away, desperate to not seem like I'm staring, but it's too late. You've already noticed, and as you look me over you spot the lesbian flag pin on my purse. You smile to yourself and slow your pace so our pass takes longer. "I like your pin." you say with a hint of playfulness, pointing to my purse. I follow your finger to the flag and blush "Oh, uh, th-thanks. I like your hair." I stutter, face glowing red. You offer a cheeky smile as we walk by, and I turn my gaze to the sidewalk to hide my rosy cheeks.

The next day, we're at the same place again walking opposite directions. We offer another round of simple greetings and compliments. "Good morning!" "It's a cold one today." "Nice shirt, love that band." "New shoes?" This proceeds every day until the seventh. This time, you come to a full stop. "So, where are you headed?" you ask, taking a couple of steps backwards to stay next to me as I slow my pace and look up, meeting your eyes. They shine with sincerity. "Oh, uh, just getting coffee. There's a little cafe just up the road." Taking the unspoken invitation, you turn on your heel and begin to walk with me. "Yeah? Let me guess, Rose's Garden?" "Uh-huh. The one with the cat." "Mind if I tag along?" My brain bursts into flame as my face erupts a beautiful shade of red. I pull my scarf up nonchalantly to try and cover up. "S-sure." We walk in silence for a couple of steps before you grow bored of it. "So. You go to school here?" "N-no. My friend does and they needed a roommate, so I moved in with them. What about you?" "Yeah. Not quite sure what I want though. Just taking gen-ed for a year or two while I figure it out. I think I want to do something with biology maybe." "Heheh, I'm sure you'll....figure it out." My heart is beating so hard I'm surprised you haven't commented on the noise.

We arrive at the coffee shop and order our drinks. We take a table by the window and talk for twenty minutes or so between sips. We talk about our interests, make jokes, and slowly realize we have a lot in common. This becomes our new daily routine. We walk to the cafe, get coffee, and chat for a while, every day. At some point, we trade phone numbers and begin texting during our free time. Every time I see that little (1) pop up on my phone, the flame of passion ignites; I've just gotten a bit more used to it. After a couple of weeks, we start hanging out. You come to my apartment and I introduce you to my roommate, the next week I come to your house and meet your cat. At some point, we start going out. We never say the word date, but you don't go to roller rinks, mini-golf, cinema, attend weddings, and go to fancy dinners if you're just friends. At least, not this frequently, right?

A year or so later, we're lying on our backs on a grassy hill. The ground is chilled from the autumn air, but that doesn't dissuade us. Our laughter dies down from the last joke you told as we stare at the clouds. I point one out that looks like a giraffe, your favorite animal. I turn my head to see if you're looking. And you are, but not at the cloud, you're looking at me. That same sparkle in your eyes and joy in your smile. "I love you." you say quietly. We've both said it before, plenty of times. But always as friends, purely platonic. This time, it's different. Something about those three words feels different. You mean it. "I-" my throat goes dry, the flame in my brain erupts into an inferno and my arm goes limp, dropping into the grass. The edges of my vision fade away as I stare into your eyes. My face grows redder than it ever has before, only this time I don't try to hide it. "I love you too." You reach an arm behind my head and I reach behind your back as we pull each other close. Time loses all meaning as our lips meet and we kiss for the first time. The singular moment feels like it lasted an eternity, yet it wasn't nearly long enough. You pull away, leaving our lipsticks smeared and mixed.

The next year goes by fairly slowly, not too different from the first. Only now, we're not just friends, we're partners. You're my girlfriend, and I'm yours. The passion and excitement still hasn't died down. Years go by, you graduate college and get a job. I go back to school and get my degree. We have two kids and we watch as they grow up and go through school and find themselves partners, just as we found each other. Decades later, one of us dies, leaving the other alone. Which one is which? It doesn't really matter. By this point, our selves are so ingrained into each other that we're incomplete, merely two parts of a whole, but one part is missing. It isn't long before the other passes, and we rejoin in eternity, a loving embrace that lasts forever.

Then, I blink. We're back on the sidewalk that first day and I'm staring at your hair. You notice, then look at my purse. You open your mouth as if to say something, but decide against it.

We pass each other in silence.

#lgbtqia #lesbian #wlw #sapphic #pride #queer #lesbian yearning #sapphic yearning #wlw yearning

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moog-rt · 9 months

Text

ᴄʏʙᴇʀʙᴜʟʟʏ [ʀɪꜱᴇ!ᴅᴏɴɴɪᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ] ᴘᴛ. 5

Links to parts: one two three four five

Summary:

Fate brought you and that purple-clad turtle together in the form of endless battles of code. You were a purple dragon recruit, and he was your target. He plays your games as you tease him with the slim possibility of victory.

You may just let him win if you are feeling particularly merciful.

Notes:

enemies to lovers; slow burn; takes place after the movie; reader is a 'villain'

Word Count: 3351

If you’d prefer to read it on Ao3, here’s the link:

ᴄʏʙᴇʀʙᴜʟʟʏ [ʀɪꜱᴇ!ᴅᴏɴɴɪᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

Otherwise, enjoy!

♡ ♡ ♡

Your hands were shoved deep into your jacket pockets as you trudged your way to the coffee shop just down the road from campus. If the crunch of fallen leaves beneath your boots hadn’t been indicator enough, the biting cold morning air was telling that autumn had arrived in full swing.

The bell above the entryway rang as you opened the door to the cafe and got in line to order. The warm atmosphere was much needed as you could finally take out your hands and rub them on your chilled cheeks. Your nose felt like ice.

After paying, you scoured the main room for a seat. Practically every table was occupied by people your age with their noses in laptops and textbooks.

With autumn comes midterms…

You slipped into a seat at a table that someone else had just relinquished and brushed off the leftover crumbs. The tabletop itself was a small circle but it sat two people, which was all that mattered. You got your laptop and notes set up as you waited for your order to be called. With how little sleep you were getting recently, it would be near impossible to start studying without some caffeine. It felt like your brain was packed with cotton balls.

You were in the middle of sighing and rubbing the sleep from your eyes when your name was finally called out. It was hard for you to care as the seat screeched out as you stood to go get your drink. However, many eyes bore into you for the disruption as you shuffled over to the counter.

“Here you are,” the barista said sweetly.

Fingers brushing against each other as you took the warm beverage from her grasp, you met her gaze and smiled back.

“Thank you,” you hummed.

As soon as you sat down and took your first sip, you could feel life rushing back into your veins. It was like all the clouds filling your brain had finally dissipated. The steam that escaped from the cup helped to thaw your nose.

You put on your headphones–opting for your own choice of music over the playlist the cafe employees were playing–and got to work as you waited for your friend to arrive. As was your routine for the past couple of weeks. Stay up late making deals with your archnemesis, peel yourself out of bed bright and early to go to this cafe, study with April until your brains felt like they were sufficiently rotted away, and scurry to class together. Sometimes you liked to sprinkle in a Purple Dragon meeting here and there.

Ever since your first deal had been made, you had offered more, and Von Ryan had reluctantly agreed. Several rounds of a variety of games stole away the majority of your nights. They were fun, but on top of classwork and purple dragon assignments, you were being zapped of your life force.

You found that you also had to fight a lot harder to actually win. You hadn’t expected your opponent to kick your ass at games as much as he did.

Your ego took quite a few blows as a result.

To make matters worse, it felt like none of your jokes ever landed with the guy. You knew they were funny. At least some of them were. He was just too stubborn to admit it!

“So serious…” you murmured to yourself, mindlessly scrolling through a study guide your professor had emailed the class.

“Yeah, I swear they’re tryna kill us.”

You jumped slightly and took off your headphones as you looked up from your screen. Before you stood a heaving April, a sheen of sweat decorating her forehead.

“God, it’s hot in here,” she said as she shrugged her jacket off and sat down across from you.

“Girl, are you alright? Did you run here from the gym or something?” You started moving your belongings so that she had more room on her side of the table to put her belongings. “I thought you were free before this.”

“I was .” She waved her hand at you while she caught her breath. “But my pals called me up to help out with something…This morning was just a bit of a rush…” She released a breathy laugh, shaking her head.

Your eyes squinted as you grinned at her. “Sounds like a fun way to start your day.”

She let out an incredulous laugh in response.

“Don’t even get me started.” She unpacked her study materials, brushed her bangs from her face, and placed her palms on the table as she looked back at you. “Alright, I’m gonna grab something to drink and then we can dig into things. That sound good? You want anything?”

“Ready when you are,” you said, lifting your drink to show her you were taken care of.

It didn’t take long before she joined you again, opening up her laptop and flipping through her pages of biology notes.

“So what did you need to help your friends with so early in the morning?” you asked, tilting your head and shooting her a curious look.

“Hm?” Her eyes shot up to meet yours before darting off to the side. “Uh… They got themselves into trouble as they usually do, so they called me up for help since they’re kind of a man down, so to speak.”

Your eyebrows furrowed.

“You live a wild life, April. I’m jealous,” you said.

“Be careful what you wish for,” she scoffed. “Now, enough stalling. We gotta get to work.”

You threw your head back and groaned dramatically.

“If I must!”

The next hour or so was filled with the silence of reading, frequent buzzing of notifications, and the occasional exchange of questions regarding subject materials. Every now and then, however, your questions would go unanswered as your friend was too distracted by her phone to hear you. After the fifth time of speaking to a wall paired with April’s solemn expression, your curiosity had finally eaten away at you.

“Everything alright? Who are you texting?” you asked as you rested your chin in your palm.

“Mm…” Your friend didn’t look away from her phone until she had finished typing. “Oh, um, just a friend… Donnie, actually.”

“Oh! How has he been?”

She sighed and placed her phone down whilst rubbing at her face.

“Better. He’s been better.”

You bit the inside of your cheek and dropped your gaze before April continued.

“Poor guy has been holed up in his room for the past month. He’s barely sleeping. It seems like he only eats if someone tears him away from his computer and forces him to… He’s just not taking care of himself.” She shook her head. “Worse is he’s not really letting us help him either… God, it just sucks having to watch your friends fall apart, you know?”

You were quiet. You watched her as she let her head fall into her hands. You found it more comfortable to look out the window instead.

“I’m sorry,” you said, fiddling with your jacket sleeve.

“Nah.” April raised her head, shaking it and offering you a soft smile. “It’s not like you could have done anything. We just gotta wait for him to either talk to us or power through it, I guess.” “I– Still.” You looked back at her, swallowing. “I’m really sorry. …That sounds difficult.”

And you were sorry. Sorry that you hadn’t dug into his connections sooner. Sorry that it was having a negative effect on April.

Sorry that you failed to consider the consequences of what you were doing.

Yes, you began offering him deals to help him out, but even then, it was mostly self-serving. Because you were getting bored? Because it gave you some new form of entertainment? Because you didn’t want April to be mad at you if she found out?

You could have stopped altogether. Should have . After the first deal. After you finished your first assignment.

But you didn’t.

And now the results of your actions were smacking you in the face.

“Anyways, let’s get started!” April said, clapping her hands together.

You nodded.

The chatter from the other tables combined with the cafe music and ringing from the entry bell served as white noise for you and April to find a rhythm to work to. The two of you began discussing the semester-long project for your bio class. April pulled up the rubric, and you began brainstorming possible subjects and hypotheses you could address. Planning away until it was time to head to class, you wrapped up the study session with a rough proposal.

Your routine from then on had been altered.

You continued to meet with April in the mornings. However, when you didn’t have a meeting with the purple dragons to stay up-to-date on plans, your nights were filled with studying and essays and projects. You made more time to play games with your friends, too. Your bedroom was filled with laughter and shouts and gory sound effects from the assortment of games you’d play with them.

The Purple Dragons’ interests had long since shifted from Donnie to various tech companies. The most recent discussions had been surrounding TCRI. The facility was rumored to have technology that seemed to not even be of this planet. The possible technological advancements the group could gain from them far outweighed that of the mutant turtle.

You had finally released your hold on Othello Von Ryan.

Only on nights like this, where you and April had plans to meet up and do school work, was there a chance that you would interact with him.

Every other minute, you checked your phone for an update on April’s arrival. You had gone down to the lobby of your apartment building to wait for her. It was the first time she was meeting at your place, and you knew that the process to get up there was a bit of a hassle.

You kept your eyes peeled for her after receiving a text saying she was just down the block. You noticed her burgundy space buns through the glass doors before anything else, but upon closer inspection, you caught sight of another figure following her to the doors. You thought for a moment that they’d walk through together, but she spun around and began shoving the person in the oversized hoodie out of frame.

All you could see now was April aggressively pointing in the direction she had come. The hood popped back into view, peering in and looking directly at you before turning away dejectedly. You leaned slightly to the side to see if you could catch a glimpse of them, but they had already walked far enough away that you couldn’t see.

You stood up to greet April as she came inside.

“Were you being harassed?” you asked, shooting her a concerned look.

“Hah, it depends on your definition of harassment! That was Donnie. He has been begging to tag along and just will not take no for an answer,” April said. You raised your eyebrows.

“ That was Donnie?” you asked with a high-pitched tone. April shook her head and chuckled.

“Yeah, don’t think too much about his fashion sense. I swear he scrambled out after me as fast as he could. Threw on whatever was closest to him,” she explained, waving her hand around.

“He wasn’t wearing anything while you were with him?” you questioned. “Are you guys…like…?”

It took April a moment to catch on to what you were trying to suggest. Her eyebrows shot to the top of her forehead and her eyes were wide as saucers as she whipped around to face you.

“Oh my god , no!” She waved both her hands in front of her, shaking her head vigorously. “He–uh–just wasn’t dressed for the weather! We weren’t doing anything crazy. Ugh, I don’t even want to think about that.”

April looked like she was about to hurl. She may have been dry-heaving a little bit, too.

“Oh! That makes total sense!” Your face burned as you looked away and laughed awkwardly. “Sorry, my mind jumped straight there…”

The two of you laughed it off on the elevator ride to one of the upper floors of the building. With a quiet chime, the doors opened up straight into your home.

It was designed to be fairly open and modern. Wide, white marble tiles spread across the floors, and the walls across from you were filled with large windows that framed the city almost perfectly. A sleek set of stairs wrapped around the edge of the area, leading to the upper level of the penthouse.

“What on Earth…” April gawked.

“My, uh, my room’s upstairs,” you said, looking away awkwardly.

“Nuh-uh, you did not tell me y’all had money! An apartment should not have an upstairs. This is wild!” she said as she followed you up the stairs.

“Both of my parents are fairly successful business people…” you explained as you opened the door for her to enter your room.

It was bright from the various LED lights and signs that you had strewn about to decorate. The gradient colors bounced across your walls and furniture. April wandered over to the edge of your room that looked over the city.

“Gosh, what I wouldn’t give to live in a place like this,” she said, throwing her bag on the floor next to your bed. “Totally unreal.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind a roommate,” you chuckled. “It would be nice to get a bit of that college experience everyone loves to talk about.”

“Oh, I feel you. I’m living off-campus, too. Really feels like I’m missing out sometimes,” April said, plopping down on your bed. “Though I don’t think you’d be able to decorate your room like this if you were living in a dorm.”

“You’re totally right. I don’t think I’d be able to live without my decor,” you joked, taking a seat at your desk.

“It reminds me a lot of how Donnie decorates.”

You turned to her with a smile.

“Oh, really? He’s a big fan of LEDs, too?”

“That and the color purple, mostly,” she chuckled. “The guy knows what he wants.”

While you were on the topic, you had been wondering…

“How has he been recently?” you asked. “I remember the last time we chatted, you said he wasn’t doing so hot.”

“ So much better. Everything seems to have gone back to normal for now. He’s getting out a lot more than he was, and I think his eye bags are almost gone!” She grinned.

“I’m glad to hear that!” You smiled in return.

You really were. It had been weighing on your mind quite a bit ever since she had told you. You wish you could go back in time and leave him alone rather than torment him for your own amusement, but obviously, that wasn’t an option. Knowing that he had relative peace of mind now made you feel a little bit better.

You and April eventually turned the conversation back to your classes and got to work on your project. You had turned in the final draft of your proposal a couple days ago and were starting on the actual data collection. Together you dug through previously published papers that could provide additional information for you to work with.

You would take breaks every once in a while to grab snacks or watch stupid videos on social media. It wasn’t uncommon for one of you to become sidetracked, which would inevitably lead the other astray shortly after.

At some point, your little siblings had barged in, somehow sensing that there was a new presence in the house. They had a field day with April, and luckily she didn’t seem to mind them at all. Eventually, you had to boot them out of the room so you could keep getting work done.

When it seemed like you had gotten sufficient materials to use for your project, April suggested giving Donnie a call just to double-check that you guys weren’t missing anything. He answered almost immediately.

“You are conversing with Donatello,” his voice sang through.

“Hey, D,” April greeted. “We were just doing some work for our big bio project. Are you free to look over some of the notes and sources we’ve collected?”

“April, you know I am always available if data collection and scientific articles are involved.”

April rolled her eyes dramatically, and you both chuckled quietly so he wouldn’t hear. April proceeded to list off all the information you had gathered so far and summarized the experimental design you had decided on. He hummed along as he listened, providing some feedback here and there regarding what you two could focus more on or different articles you could reference.

“I’ll send you links to a few that I think will be particularly helpful. As a whole, however, it seems you have done quite a good job. The information you have accumulated thus far is reputable and will certainly validate your study,” Donnie stated. “Consider me impressed.”

“I’d hope so! We’ve put a lot of time into this,” you laughed. It was the first thing you said since the call started.

“Ah, there is my favorite disciple!” he began.

“Boy, if you don’t knock that shit off, I swear!” April huffed.

“You know, I was going to grace you with my presence tonight, however, April here told me I was unwelcome,” he spat.

The two proceeded to get themselves into a silly argument over he-said-she-said. You watched quietly with a soft smile gracing your lips. You wanted to join in the argument for fun, teasing and joking where you could, but it felt so wrong to do. Knowing the role you played in his life, whether he knew it was you or not, made you feel like a fraud for acting friendly with him.

Eventually, April and Donnie’s little squabble subsided, and you said your goodbyes. You and April added the articles Donnie sent over and called it a night. After walking her back down to the lobby, you returned to your room to vegetate.

You lied on your bed, watching the gradient lights change as they danced across your ceiling. You had wired all of the lighting to be in sync, alternating between various shades of blue, purple, and pink. You would switch up the color combinations if you got bored or if you needed something to fit the mood of the night a bit better.

April said Donnie’s setup was similar. If you two actually knew each other–as friends rather than opponents–you were sure that you’d have a field day chatting to him about the things he’s created. Judging by the blueprints you had stolen, your silly little light fixtures were probably child’s play for someone as technologically advanced as him.

You may not be friends, and the chances of you becoming friends were probably slim to none, but at the end of the day, you felt grateful to know that someone like him actually existed. Your world was beyond that of 9-5 office jobs, school, and circuitry. There were still mysterious people like him, part turtle and part… something else that you weren’t sure of.

Your world wasn’t as boring as you had feared, and you felt lucky to know that.

An alarm began sounding from your phone, causing you to jump. Scrambling across your bed, you picked up the device to see what was happening.

Apparently, there was an attack on the Purple Dragon’s network.

You looked over at your desktop. You hesitated for a moment before crawling over and sitting down at it. It didn’t take long for you to negate the attack and reinforce some of the security on the network as well as the servers.

Tracing back the IP of the attacker through various VPNs, it was no surprise to see that it was Donnie on the other end. Your heart jumped at the opportunity. It wouldn’t be so bad for you to make another offer to him if he was the one initiating, would it?

♡ ♡ ♡

#tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #donatello x reader #donnie x reader #donatello #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt donnie x reader #rottmnt x reader #rise!donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt april o'neil #april o'neil #rottmnt april

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taejusunju · 9 months

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Autumn leaves 🍂

Woonhak x fem!reader genre: fluff, angst word count: 2.39k admin: 🧃

note: Hii okie ik this is pretty long but bare with me, I haven’t written something in a while and this is my first official ff also feel free to leave any feedback. I do know the angst is a lot, had to make it sad you know. Either way I hope you enjoyed it and thank you for reading. 🤍🧸

Summer was coming to an end, the chilly breeze and colourful leaves falling had already indicated autumn slowly weaving its way. For others it may seem like an ordinary day and nothing special, but autumn was my favourite season. The not so cold and not so hot weather, the colourful leaves falling from trees, this was the time to relish in the colours, wear cozy sweaters and sit by cozy fires, roasting marshmallows while singing your favourite songs, the time for the closeness of others to keep out of the chill of the morning and the dark-eyed darkness of the night.

This time everything would be different, autumn wouldn’t be the same as it had been all the past years for me. The person whom I had shared the beautiful memories of enjoying this season wasn’t going to be with me.

Every autumn my family and I, would go to our cottage on the far side of town for 3 weeks during fall break. I had made many friends and we would have so much fun together. Sometimes I would visit them during spring break too. Till 3 years ago, I had met my best friend woonhak. Me and my friends had visited a new coffee shop opened near us, and that was when I had spotted a cute barista, who later on became my friend and then best friend. Woonhak had always kept in touch with me even when I came back to my hometown. But till last autumn, when he had suddenly started to change and become more colder, and just different. I wasn’t sure what had happened but he wasn’t the same Woonhak who I was bestfriends with. From hours of facetime calls to not a single text message, me and him had completely drifted.

Time sure does fly fast, its fall break of my junior year and me and family are on our way to our cottage. I had texted all my friends, most of them are reaching today and we are excited to finally see each other again. I was wearing my favourite knitted brown sweater that I got gifted on my 14th birthday by woonhak with grey sweatpants and my busted converse. It made me a little upset thinking about how I won’t be able to hangout with him like I used too this break.

Lost in my thoughts, while listening to music and looking outside the window admiring the red and orange leaves scattered across the roads and in the air, the chilly breeze hits my face like ice, sending chills down my spine. We were about to reach the cottage. I could smell the faint scent of firewood and home baked sweets in the air. It felt like I was finally home. When we finally arrived, I ran out the car and straight to the lake down the street. I could hear my parents yelling from behind, telling me to come help with the bags, but I had to go to the lake. Just like I had assumed my friends were already there. Taesan and eunchae were the first to arrive and they came to the lake first. I had missed them so much I ran up to them and hugged them tightly. After a bit we saw jaehyun, sungho, nat and woonhak, coming down the hill. What was he doing here? I forgot for a second that just because he’s not close with me anymore doesn’t mean he’s not close with the others after all he was jaehyuns bestfriend. They all came and we started hugging eachother, it had been a year since we last saw eachother. Woonhak was still distant with me. Besides a mere exchange of hi we said nothing to eachother, I could tell the others had sensed the awkward tension between us.

After chatting for a bit and catching up with eachother we all decided to call it a day and head back home. Everyone lived near the village, besides me and woonhak cause he lived a little further down the street from me. I was walking behind him. I so badly wanted to go up and talk with him but I didn’t know how. I feared he would just ignore me and not say anything back but I couldn’t stand the silence anymore. So I got a little closer and started walking near him, he didn’t even move a bit to look at me, like I’m not there. “Hi”, I said hoping he would notice me and talk, I was surprised when he said “Hi” back but in a cold tone. “It’s been a while since we have talked” I said nervously looking at him. He just nodded back in silence this time moving his head towards me for a mere second of eye contact before he looked back ahead. I wish it could’ve lasted longer, I haven’t seen him in so long or talked to him. I missed him.

It was starting to really irritate me and making me upset, I hate to admit it but I did have feelings for woonhak and before I could confess them last year he had just stopped talking. Getting annoyed I stood in front of him blocking his way, he looked at me with a confused look. "What are you doing?” He said. “The same thing you’re doing, blocking your way like you blocked me out of your life” I said, I wasn’t gonna hold back now I have had enough of it. "Why have you been ignoring me? Did I do something? If I did, why don’t you just tell me instead of leaving me in the dark, was all those years of friendship worth nothing to you, that you just threw it away like it was trash?" I said to him now a bit more louder and colder. He just looked at me with a blank face, "you did nothing wrong, it was me." He said. “So what? That’s it? You have nothing else to tell me? Seriously woonhak what is wrong with you.” I said while starting to tear up, I was too frustrated I just couldn’t hold back my emotions. As I started to cry, I noticed my face being lifted up, it was him. "Please stop crying, i didnt mean to hurt you." He said now looking worried, this was the first time in a while I had seen any sort of emotion on his face. "I just..had to but I didn’t mean to hurt you” he said. “How could you not hurt me, we were bestfriends woonhak” I said. “Oh. yea best friends..I’m sorry" he said now looking down at his shoes. "It’s getting late you should head back home" he said. "Fine” you said, you were upset and frustrated and continued to walk back home alone.

The rest of the evening I spent unpacking my bags and spending time with my family. I didn’t wanna think about what had happened earlier. Everyone was texting in the groupchat making plans on what to do tomorrow together but thinking about how woonhak would be there was already making me upset. Ever since woonhak and me stopped talking, jaehyun and I had became really close friends. I had asked him many times why woonhak had been acting the way he is, but it was only me who felt that way, jaehyun said he seemed fine and maybe he just didn’t wanna be friends with me anymore, but why?.

Its now 11:40pm and I can’t sleep. I decided to go to the park near me, I remember me and woonhak used to hangout a lot during last fall here together. He liked playing basketball and I would watch him or sometimes play with him. As I got to the park I sat down on the swing, listening to the sound of leaves rusting against the ground as the wind blows them. The quite sound of the night, the water of the lake moving and the crickets sound. I was gently swinging when I heard someone sit on the swing beside me, "Can’t sleep?" He asked. I looked up to see woonhak, "I don’t want to talk to you". For a bit we stayed in silence swinging before either of us said a word. "I’m sorry" he said looking at me. I didn’t feel like talking to him, it’s not going to fix anything since he doesn’t want to. "Why are you sorry, it’s not like you care” I said. "I do care, a lot more then you think” he said. What did he mean by that, "If you cared, you wouldn’t have just cut me off like that, do you know how hurt I was" I replied. "I know and I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left everything like that but I didn’t know what to do at the time” he said. “God why are you so stubborn woonhak, can’t you just tell me what’s wrong if you aren’t I’m just gonna go” I said getting frustrated. I was about to get up and walk away but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back to hug him. "Can’t we just stay like this for a while, I’ll tell you everything” he said, my heart was beating so fast I hoped he wouldn’t notice it. "I missed you so much, you don’t understand” he said, I missed him a lot too.

We stayed hugging for a few minutes before we both pulled back. We sat down at the bench near us, hopefully he would tell me everything and why he was so distant with me. "So tell me now, don’t leave a detail out okay?” I said, “okay…I didn’t want to distant from you y/n…we were so close….I-I just didn’t know what to do. Jaehyun had liked you since we all had first met and he wanted me to help him pursue you.” I was at lost of words, jaehyun liked me? But he had never told me anything. “I didn’t wanna help him pursue you, but I also didn’t want to tell him that cause he’s been my closest friend since childhood. So the best thing I did was cut you off and tell him we weren’t close anymore and I couldn’t help him. I truly am sorry for hurting you y/n it wasn’t my intention” he said. “Why did you not want jaehyun to pursue me?” I asked, why was he so against it. “It’s cause.. I just you know” he said, “you know what woonhak, say it” I was tired of him going around the bush. “It’s cause I like you, I like you a lot y/n and this wasn’t how I planned on telling you but you keep on insisting. I never knew if you felt the same and after jaehyun liking you I thought you would like him too and I never wanted to ruin our close friendship.” He said dropping the bomb on me, I was silently shocked, I didn’t know what to say to him. He liked me too? Did he not know I liked him too. "Oh” was all I could say. “It’s fine if you don’t feel the same, especially after becoming distant you probably lost any sort of feelings for me anyways” he said looking kinda upset now. “NO no, I’m sorry it’s not that it was alot to take in, but no I do like you woonhak, I always have since I first saw you at the coffee shop. I wanted to tell you last fall but you had already cut me off” I said to him, it felt so good finally telling him the feelings I had bottled inside me for years.

We both stood there looking at each other and smiling, after confessing to each other. I could see a smirk plastered on woonhak as face, “So you liked me for so long and didn’t care to tell me?" He said. "And you liked me and cut me off" I said back. "Heyyy I had my reasons to why” he whined, "okayy finee. oh..yea what do we do about jaehyun now?” I didn’t want him to ruin his friend ship with jaehyun cause of me. "I don’t know I guess I’ll have to talk to him and tell him about us” he replied. “Us?” I said grinning back obviously teasing him, “You know what I mean..like us liking each other” he said shyly, I could see his face becoming red. "It’s getting late, I’ll walk you back home” and I nodded back.

He walked back with me home, on the way we just chatted a bit catching up on old stuff. Here and there our hands would rub against each other and making us both get shy and look away from each other. After a bit we finally reached my house and it was time to say goodbye for the night, but I didn’t want to and I knew he didn’t want to either. "It’s getting late now you should head inside” he finally said. "Yeah you should head home too, goodnight woonhak" I said looking at him, admiring his face glowing under the street light. "Goodnight y/n, sleep well” he said. I wish we could stay like this for longer but it was getting late and he needed to get home. I started heading back inside and I saw he was still standing there smiling and waving at me, waiting for me to get home safely before he left. I waved back at him before I headed inside my house.

The next few days, me and my friends hanged out together and we did our usual activities that we did every fall. Woonhak and me had gotten closer again too. He would always text me in the morning, drop me off home, we always take our night scrolls at the park. As for our relationship, we wanted to take things slow and regain our friendship before anything else. As for jaehyun, him and woonhak had talked and he wasn’t upset, actually he had already known and moved on awhile ago and was now dating nat which definitely surprised us all cause no one knew about their secret relationship. So after all, my autumn break this year wouldn’t be bad as I thought it would be.

#boynextdoor #bnd #woonhak #bnd woonhak #fluff fic #boynextdoor scenarios #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor fluff #boynextdoor fic #boynextdoor woonhak #boynextdoor x y/n #woonhak x reader #fluff fanfic #woonhak fluff #kim woon hak

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joels6string · 1 year

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More Than My Father's Son

Joel Miller x f!OC

Chapter 7 - Hazy Whiskey Nights

Summary: What you thought would be a night to commiserate the 21st Outbreak Day anniversary at Tommy and Maria's has a much more heartbreaking origin.

Rating: E

Word Count: 6k

Content: NSFW, high levels of violence normal to the TLOU world, angst, fluff, miscommunication trope (it’s Joel Miller…), slow burn, Joel’s traumatic childhood, getting together, smut, canon divergence after SLC, fix it fic

How did you help someone manage their grief when it was something you’d never once allowed yourself to feel?

Chapter 6 || Series Masterlist

“Tommy! Cover me!”

“Tommy…”

As gunshots began to echo, you jolted up with a shriek, your eyes immediately jerking over in search of the line of defense between you and the door but finding no one. You’d been trying to remember the events of that day for two weeks now, but still, the blanks stayed blackened and shrouded, but Joel’s face covered in blood at your front door was always the last place you landed. The moonlight breaking in through the slits in your curtains illuminated the old clock hanging on the wall, the familiar sight of 4 AM greeting you as you sighed into the empty, lonely space. That was all the sleep you'd be getting tonight, sweat dripping down your temple and soaking the thin tank top you’d worn to bed despite the autumn chill that had settled over Jackson.

The gardens welcomed you at five after a hasty breakfast, an early start meant more could be done before your afternoon arrangements. While your proficiency with a bow was unmatched, it turned out your thumb might be as green as it was steady. Nothing had died under your care yet and your fingers itched to sink into the dirt more than they did to pull at a bowstring, the gentle needs of the crops requiring a softer touch that forced a more conscious effort as your hands adjusted to their new task.

Benevolence was something you thought your digits would have long forgotten. They’d nimbly and efficiently killed with guns, knives, bows, and shards of glass, slitting the throats of enemies and prey alike, their very existence a testament to your survival. But here in the plush soils and humid sanctuaries, it was all fond brushes and attentive inspections, the dewy green leaves not too distant a sensation beneath your fingertips from thin, sweat-soaked skin thudding with a rapid pulse.

“You’re up early,” a voice sounded from behind you, prompting you to quickly turn and whirl to find its source.

“Maria…” you sighed, not missing the fact your hand was now at the empty back waistband of your jeans, “So are you.”

“Well, I was curious who was getting here early and doing half the work before the rest of the team even shows up. I should have known.”

“Sorry…Killing time.”

“Still not sleeping?”

“Better than I was.”

There was no way she could fight that, and surrender settled on her face in a knowing smirk.

“Better than nothing,” she laughed, your growing nerves receding at her ease, “leave something for the rest of them to do.”

“Sure,” you agreed, “Ellie and I are going to the inn this afternoon anyway.”

“You know, I’d offer to send you home if I thought there was any chance you’d actually go.”

“I’m stuck in my ways, what can I say?”

“Hopefully not too stuck.”

When your brow furrowed she took her leave, the wind rattling against the plastic encasing you nothing compared to the fretful chaos ensuing in your mind. The invitation to the Millers’ home for dinner had already been a source of turmoil since you’d gotten the invitation, Ellie was already thrilled at the thought of you joining her and Joel that there was no feasible exit or valid excuse. However, despite her excitement over the event in the days leading up, she was oddly quiet today when she arrived and took her usual place beside you.

At first, you allowed her the space she was silently requesting, but when the sun hit its highest peak and began to dip into the west and you were cleaning your hands in the icy tap, your concern got the best of you.

“What’s up today?” you asked nonchalantly, “You’re not usually quiet.”

“Oh…” she mused, half dazed and distant, “Just tired.”

“That makes two of us. You ready?”

The heavy sigh that followed wasn’t one of disdain, you knew that even if she tried to mask it as such. Ellie had been over to help the surviving women and still packed into the inn with you, her discomfort in the setting palpable in each visit. Joel, Tommy, and other townspeople had been out diligently searching and coming up empty day after day, every evening the hope fading from their eyes as Joel and Tommy reported back to update them alone.

“You don’t have to come,” you reminded her, “There’s no shame in it.”

“I do have to come!” she argued, her voice growing louder and more agitated, “That’s…what the fucking world is like. I can’t be hidden forever.”

Hidden. You knew Ellie was frustrated Joel had said no patrols until she was older, a ruling you found entirely fair, but hidden wasn’t entirely the word you’d have used. Not much had been disclosed about Joel and Ellie’s journey prior to them finding you, all you knew was that they’d traveled all the way from Boston, lost a few people along the way, and were headed to find Joel’s brother in Jackson. When they’d picked you up in Utah you’d teased Joel once you’d gotten comfortable about just how off the track he’d been if that had been his destination, but as time wore on you’d become almost certain there was more to their story and it just wasn’t for you to know, and you respected that.

“Don’t forget, Star Wars tomorrow,” she reminded you, her voice leveled and a sad smile settled onto her freckled face, “You promised.”

“I’ll be there,” you promised, slinging your arm around her shoulders as you took off down the road.

As usual, the survivors were huddled in the lobby as they awaited the return of that day’s search team. Thus far, the only victory had been reuniting Simon’s wife with him and James, a celebration you’d missed after the ordeal at the slaver camp. Indy had assured you of his gratitude and tears of joy and relief from that day, and he’d made a point to stop you at the market earlier this week to let you know himself. All it had done was remind you of all that had transpired there and just how little you remembered.

Lunch was doled out and reassuring words were shared, Ellie following you like a shadow keen to stay in the dark but forcing itself to stretch along the walls in the sunlight pouring in from the windows. She was silent, watching attentively as you put on the mask required of you, something you’d gotten better at since arriving in Jackson. It was a necessary skill. Maria was mingling, Tommy, Joel, and Indy were all part of today’s crew and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t opted to come here today based only on that.

It hadn’t even been a week since the fall dance and yet it felt like a lifetime. Joel had been scarce, more so than usual this week, only popping around town when necessary, and his absence even in just the passing moments weighed heavily on your spirits. But here he couldn’t escape you, even for a quick wave, and regardless tonight you’d be at Tommy and Maria’s, although you couldn’t help but wonder why this day was chosen.

Outbreak day. It had been twenty-one years now since the world had ended and been replaced by this boundless hellscape. This year, the date didn’t bring on as many despairing emotions as years past, but still, it was hard to escape the reminder of all that was lost.

“Hey,” the wrong Texas drawl called from behind you, a sea of hopeful eyes lifting to the source and immediately falling, “We caught a trail but it’s no good goin’ after ‘em in the dark. We’re setting out first thing tomorrow.”

An optimistic murmur erupted in the crowd as your spirits fell, your own gaze searching for a missing mop of gray hair. So focused on seeking what wasn’t there, you missed a familiar face merely inches from your own.

“Earth to Millie,” Indy called, waving her hands theatrically in front of you, “You and Ellie have been reading too many fucking space books.”

“Where’s Joel?” your lack of pleasantries causing her to scoff knowingly.

“He went straight home.”

So he wasn’t hurt or lost or dead, but still avoiding you as if his life depended on it. Had you been too forceful in dragging him out onto the dance floor? He’d invited you over afterward, but was that just for Ellie’s sake? Maybe he really did want to dance with Francine, but the thought of his arm around the waist of someone else had sent a flush to your cheeks so hot you swore you’d been sweating as your cheeks blazed red. You supposed it shouldn’t have though. Who was he to you? The man that pulled you from the empty building you’d intended to waste away in? No, he was more than that.

“Still comin’ by tonight?” Tommy asked, pulling you from your thoughts, “I know Joel’ll appreciate it.”

Well, hearing that wasn’t going to help any of the confused feelings you’d been grappling with.

“Yeah,” you assured, “Six, right?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Do I need to bring anything?”

“No, I think Maria’s got it covered. She likes to entertain.”

“I can’t tell if that’s sarcasm or not.”

“Guess you’ll find out.”

Tommy walked off with a laugh and a gentle squeeze of your shoulder, his hair now just long enough to tie back into a little ponytail you knew Joel would be teasing him about if he wasn’t already. You bid Ellie a “see you soon” as you left, needing a shower to make yourself presentable for the first dinner party you’d been to since your teenage years, your options for clothes just as scarce as the jar of green buds Eugene had left with you last week after your episode. Oddly enough, it had been helping, and now you’d have to admit that to Eugene after brushing off his guarantee that it could take your troubles away, just for a little while.

Rolling the weed into the little squares of paper he’d provided returned like muscle memory from college, the familiar skunky smell hitting your tongue and nose simultaneously as you inhaled on your back porch, blowing the smoke out slowly and watching it dissipate into the graying dusk sky. You were ready to go, but something kept you rooted in place as your mind calmed and lightened, the realization that something, somewhere had changed churning like the sea. Pinpointing it was impossible, maybe it had always been there hiding in a corner waiting for the safest moment to come out, or perhaps it had been so slow you’d barely noticed it, time sending the sands to fill your empty, weary vial when your life had been flipped upside down entirely.

Now you were late, your head in your hands as your feet tapped rapidly on the wooden step they were glued to. The air had grown too cold for your simple flannel button-down to keep you warm, yet you still couldn’t decipher if the goosebumps erupting on your skin were from the chill or anticipation. This had all gone too far. It had reached a point you thought was lost.

It was almost seven when you were knocking on the Millers’ door, Tommy opening it up with a warm, welcoming smile, “Hey, glad you make it. C’mon in.”

Grateful for lack of criticism over your tardiness, you followed Tommy into the house, immediately spotting Joel sitting alone on the couch in silence, a tumbler of whiskey perched in his hand as he stared at the flames licking against the brick of the hearth. The despondent aura surrounding him was palpable, your brow immediately furrowing as your steps slowed, the desire to sit down beside him almost undeniable.

“It’s his birthday,” Ellie murmured as you entered the kitchen, her and Maria were putting the final touches on dinner at the counter.

His birthday. Your stomach went hurtling to the floor as your heart hammered against your ribs. His fucking birthday. You knew what happened. He’d told you about his daughter in a rare moment of vulnerability before you’d made it to those wooden gates. His face had been hazy as he spoke over the flames crackling through the summer air, the pain threaded in his voice proving that time could not heal all wounds.

“Fuck,” you hissed under your breath, turning to hide the tears pressing at your eyes from onlookers.

This felt almost invasive. That man was still mourning, the one day a year he could be celebrating himself marred by tragedy in every conceivable way. It explained his reclusiveness over the past week, and you felt disgusted that you’d somehow made it about yourself.

“Just…we just want to let him know that we’re here,” Tommy defended, clearly able to read the horrified look on your face, “We’re not forcin’ him into anything, we just…didn’t want him to be alone. Not this year.”

“Dinner’s ready,” Maria chimed in, bringing each of her prepared dishes to the table one room over. So Tommy hadn’t been being sarcastic.

“I’ll go get him,” you offered, needing a second alone with him, even if it was just a few short steps into another room. What you wanted that time for you weren’t sure, but your heart was screaming after decades of being mute and not one of your well-maintained walls could keep it quiet.

The room that had previously been occupied by the brooding figure of Joel was now empty, the decanter of whiskey that had been set in front of him also gone. You could see the shadow of his slumped shoulders through the front window, and you found him on the lone chair on the porch, decanter in one hand, glass in another, chin to his chest as he stared at the wooden slats.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he snapped, not even raising his gaze to see who had come out, maybe he knew it was you already.

“I know,” you assured him softly, hopping up to perch on the banister in front of him, the stars twinkling above you brighter than they should be on a night like tonight where it all seemed bleak and hopeless.

As you stared up into the heavens, a nudge on your shin pulled you from mapping your own constellations, the decanter of whiskey still warm from his grip as you pulled it from his hands and took a swig before passing it back. Whatever discomfort you’d been feeling quickly dissipated in the comfortable blanket of silence that wrapped you both up effortlessly, the only sounds being the swish of whiskey against glass and the rhythmic tapping of your heels against the thin wooden rails behind them.

“I never realized how much I didn’t stop to look at the stars,” you began to ramble, your head was still in the clouds, the effects of Eugene’s medicine the only thing keeping your mood afloat in Joel’s somber storm, “Like, there’s no more light pollution, you know? Look at them up there. There’s so many. Especially after living in New York, just black skies, the stars all drowned out by the skyscrapers and street lights. It’s been like this for 20 years now…”

”I see you’ve gone to the town’s doctor of choice,” he chuckled from his seat, his voice a little higher, less weighed down, and you couldn’t stop the giggles you were trying to hold back from snorting out of your nose, “It suits you. Maybe I should give it a try.”

“You’ve never had it?”

“Course I have. When I was younger you couldn’t keep me away from the stuff. But I’m old now, who knows what it’ll do.”

“Probably put you to sleep.”

“That work for you?”

“Like a charm.”

“It keep those nightmares of yours away?”

If only. The way your eyes averted was enough of an answer for him, the whiskey he offered again burning down your throat. There was nothing that could take those away, no matter how many years you stacked in front of certain choices, they never stopped. A constant reminder of poor choices made in desperation, moments that taken your open heart and sealed it behind iron bars and chains. The same courtesy you’d extended to him he granted you, no nagging questions or attempts to fix what had irreparably shattered, it was just a comfortable quiet where just knowing grief was shared was enough.

“If you want to come by tonight,” you offered after a few minutes of silence, “just bring that guitar of yours.”

“Appreciate the offer,” he slurred, the alcohol he’d been drowning in finally taking hold, “I’ll be alright.”

With those words he stood, the decanter in his left hand as his right reached out towards you, your palm sliding against his calloused skin before you leapt down, the way his fingertips squeezed against yours before he released you sending a ripple down your spine.

Maria, Ellie, and Tommy were seated at the table, plates empty in front of them with the dishes Maria had prepared set across the surface, their eyes all shooting up as the front door closed behind Joel. They began an animated conversation that was meant to sound as if they’d been chatting idly for the past thirty minutes but the performance fell short to your ears, and from the way Joel’s nostrils flared as he took the seat across from you and beside his brother, it hadn’t fooled him either.

As Tommy introduced each dish, you noted the pause as he awaited his brother’s reaction after each one was named. He got none.

“Are these your favorites?” you asked Joel sweetly as his glass filled again before his plate.

“A long time ago,” he grumbled, his presence and sobriety fading quickly.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Tommy snapped, ripping the bottle from his hands as he went to drain the last of it, “Last thing you need.”

“Give me that.”

“No! Now eat somethin’ before you make yourself sick.”

A fist slamming on the table had everyone but Tommy flinching, Ellie’s face falling as Joel stalked off, the house rattling as he slammed the door behind him.

“You should eat,” you reassured her, “We’ll take him a plate back.”

“Well, that went better than expected,” Tommy announced after a heavy sigh, “Everyone eat up. No reason to let it go to waste.”

Courtesy won out over the unsettled lurching in your stomach, the small servings of everything you’d put on your plate being finished in appreciation of the invitation. Ellie seemingly had the same intention, the both of you feeling almost out of place without Joel’s ever-reassuring presence despite the relationship you’d formed with the rest of his family. Both you and Ellie helped with clean-up, making the task quick and the evening’s failed celebration come to a relieving end.

When you hugged Ellie good night outside the door of her converted garage, you couldn’t help but drift your gaze to those two plastic chairs on the porch. They were barely visible, the porch light that was usually lit notably black, the usual occupant of the chair on your left absent. The notes that usually plucked through the air floated around you like ghosts, every window in the large 2-story home dark. All you could hope was that he was enjoying halcyon whiskey dreams.

The shower called to you as soon as you’d passed the threshold of your house, your book nook as Ellie affectionately had named it requesting your attention after you washed the day away. Your hair soaked through the thin black tank top you threw on, the kettle whistling as you prepped a satchel of chamomile tea you’d packed up just this morning from the strings of drying herbs hanging from the rafters on the gardens.

You swore you heard the softest raps on your door, noting the late hour and shaking it off, but when they sounded again just slightly louder as you set your mug onto the small book-covered end table, you spotted the figure lingering on your door through the front window. Concern washed away whatever qualms you had about your attire, the flushed face of Joel greeted you like a melancholic portrait.

“You brought the guitar,” you noted contentedly, standing aside and allowing him space to enter, “What’s in the bag?”

“Supplies,” he grunted, his feet shuffling more than stepping.

“We going somewhere I don’t know about?”

“No. It’s…it don’t matter. It’s nothin’.”

“Lemme see.”

His reflexes were too waterlogged to stop you from snatching the satchel from his arms, your eyes finding flour, sugar, cinnamon sticks, and a large cube of butter.

“You want to bake?” you asked, nose wrinkling in delighted confusion.

“Yeah...” he confessed, his hand nervously shooting back to scratch at the back of his head.

“Okay.”

If he wanted to bake, then you’d bake. You’d be horrible at it because it wasn’t something you ever got right even before you went twenty years without an oven, but as long as you didn’t burn your house down you’d consider it a win. Questions ran rampant through your mind as you watched him intently, even in his inebriated state each measurement was practically scientific. Flour, sugar, cinnamon, and rising agents you weren’t even sure would work all meticulously went into separate bowls, his quiet requests for help finding certain utensils as heart wrenching as they were endearing.

“When Sarah was real young,” he began, the sound of his daughter’s name took you aback, all your focus going to a story you knew he would be struggling to tell. His hands were gripping the counter, knuckles white, and while his face was turned toward the counter you could see the lines around his eyes were more pronounced, “I’d make these for…for breakfast on hers and mine. Up at four to get it done in time…I’d forgotten the last few years…”

How did you help someone manage their grief when it was something you’d never once allowed yourself to feel? You knew silence wasn’t the answer, despite being frozen in it, and with cautious steps and a shaking hand, you slid your palm across his upper back, gripping his upper arm as you rest your chin atop his shoulder. You expected him to shove you off, but instead he exhaled deeply as if he’d been holding his breath. The sheer size difference had this feeling inadequate, your arm barely taking up space across his broad shoulders, but he seemed content enough. It was the thought that counted, right?

“Okay,” he mumbled, standing upright once again to finish his task, and you pulled your embrace away quickly, still afraid you’d overstepped a boundary that you were never meant to cross.

“Shit,” he sighed as you heard the brittle cracking of an egg smashing on the floor, his head whipping around in search of a towel and yanking it free off the oven handle.

As he dropped to his knees, you followed, your noses inches apart as you laid your fingers over his, pulling the rag free, “I got it.”

Proximity to him wasn’t something you weren’t accustomed to, you’d spent weeks clinging to his back through forests and over rivers, but it was never face to face. You noticed his sunspots and scars, all the little fine lines nicked all across his face from years of knife fights and jumping through shattered glass, thorns, and dilapidated buildings. The prominent indentation spread across his crooked nose was deep, the dark color a stark contrast to the light hazel hue of his eyes that was locked with the green of your own. His beard had grayed more since your arrival months ago, his cheeks had filled in, and the sadness in his eyes gave a him a vulnerability that made him look far younger than his difficult 53 years

You cleared your throat as you broke the staring contest you’d been unaware you’d entered, turning to work on mopping up the egg yolk splattered across your floor. The oven blared as it hit the required temperature as you rose, tossing the rag into the trash behind you before the newest ailment that had been plaguing you kicked into gear. A slow ooze from your nose dropped onto the floor, Joel snapped his attention up to you. The back of your hand was pressed against your face, blood already smearing along your skin as he shot up, frantically digging through your kitchen drawers in search of a clean towel.

“I’m fine,” you groaned, “it’s the weather…”

The taste of copper sat wet on your lips, your cheeks burning in embarrassment as you ran to the sink, rinsing your hands as blood continued to roll down your face. Thick fingers tipped your chin back as you turned straight into a solid chest before pressing a towel beneath your leaking nostrils as his other hand cradled the back of your head, the ceiling coming into view as you went limp in his hold. It was silent, the butterflies in your stomach evolving into vulturous hawks as his fingers scratched soothing against your scalp, your unruly waves catching and tugging enough to keep you from letting yourself drift off to a forbidden sanctuary.

After what felt like an hour but the clock proved as five minutes, he pulled the pressure away, inspecting for new blood and finding now, wetting the clean edges of the blood-soaked rag in his hands and wiping your face clean. You wanted to stop him, you could handle this, but you didn’t. The water was freezing against your heated skin, his swipes tender and his eyes focused on cleaning the last evidence of your ailment clean. Your nails dug into the skin of your palm as you balled your fists while you mentally thanked yourself for not drinking as much as you’d wanted to, and you considered that the amount he’d allowed himself to have was probably fueling his own motions.

“I need to change,” you blurted out bluntly, your body searing hot as you pushed passed him and ran up the stairs, slamming your bedroom door behind you.

Squashing the hopes that he’d follow was harder than you’d hoped, your fingers rolling the last of your stash into a thin little cone and sticking it into the pocket of the flannel you donned over the thin tank top you pulled from the drawer. It had to be the exhaustion or the comedown from your first high, or maybe it was the heavy emotional fog that had surrounded him throughout the night, obscuring your view of reality as you’d inspected his frown lines and read the sadness in his eyes as if it was a code written only for you to decipher. He’d ended up here. Yes, you’d offered, but he’d refused. And yet hours after his abrupt departure from Tommy and Maria’s, he’d been on your doorstep, guitar in hand, looking every bit sullen and in need of a place to softly land. And that was here.

“You alright?” his voice traveled up the stairs, a hint of nervousness drifting along with it. You’d been too long.

The smell of cinnamon was strong as you hit the first floor, Joel hunched over the stove as he prepped another tray of dough to go into the oven. The sight had your breath hitching, his fingers looking too large for such a delicate task yet he moved as if he’d mastered it years ago, his brow furrowed in concentration as he plopped each ball onto the metal, his thumb dipping between his lips with a soft smack after he’d placed the last one.

“Hey,” he greeted when he spotted you leaning against the doorframe, “C’mere.”

Through your brazen staring, you’d failed to notice he’d started a pot of boiling water, the steam rising from the bubbling liquid as he flicked the burner off, the plaid shirt that had just been stretched across his broad shoulders surrounding your head as he stood behind you in a gray flannel that hugged every one of his dips and curves, the three buttons beginning at the collar undone to reveal a peak of the dark hair that covered his chest.

“Head down,” he instructed, the air warm and wet as he tented his shirt around your head, “Breathe that in a bit, it’ll help your nose.”

As you took over the task of holding his flannel that smelled like sawdust and cinnamon, you heard him working around the kitchen. The faucet going off, the clattering of spoons and bowls in the basin of the sink, heavy boot steps, and muttered reminders, it was the first time in your life you’d shared a space with someone like this, domestically, effortlessly. When the timer blared you leapt back in shock, his hands covered in soap as he turned from the sink to steady you first before grabbing one of the old oven mitts Maria had given you to pull out the first batch of snickerdoodle cookies, the other going right in as you watched on in awe yet again.

“Do you want a drink?” you asked, realizing that you had to offer since he’d arrived.

“Think I’ve had enough,” he refused with a lopsided smirk, resetting the timer to twelve minutes, “Unless you’ve got some coffee.”

“I gave that to you.”

“Yeah, that’s gone.”

With a knowing nod you grabbed your last clean towel and joined him at the sink, drying the dishes as he passed them your way and putting them away, the task bringing you to the beep of the final timer. He’d already placed the first dozen on a plate, and after setting the other tray on the stovetop he grabbed the dish in one hand, his guitar in the other, and gestured towards your back door.

“Comin’?” he asked, and without a second thought, you nodded, opening the door up to allow him out first before following.

Chairs were something you hadn’t gotten yet, but he was perfectly content on the top side, his long legs bringing his feet to rest two steps down. You sat facing him, your legs stretching out behind his back to leave enough room for the neck of his guitar, the warm, buttery cookies he made better than you expected as you took your first bite. He laughed quietly as you hummed in approval, shooting you a look that screamed ‘told you so,’ his eyebrows raised mischievously as he pulled the instrument into place.

“Play something for me, Billy Joel,” you crooned, tapping his lower back with your foot, your eyes unable to stay away from the galaxies above.

“Don’t he play piano?” Joel replied with a chuckle, and you shrugged, the familiar notes of the song he always played floating out into the night.

“What was her favorite?” you took a chance in asking, his fingers stopping and resting against the strings.

“Song?” he asked after a pause, the response to your prying gentler than you expected.

“Yeah.”

It was a melody you vaguely remembered, but you could tell he was flubbing some of the notes when his face twisted in frustration and you sat and listened, noting the slowing of his motions and the way his lower lip began to pout out. You hoped it was cathartic, healing, and not something sending him further into the abyss of mourning he’d been caught in.

“It was from some boy band,” he explained as the song came to an end, “I hated ‘em. Fought tooth and nail when she wanted to put it on in the truck. I’d do anything to find that CD now.”

“We’ll find it,” you assured, the flicking of your lighter piquing his attention as you settled the last joint between your lips and took a drag.

“Lemme try that.”

“You sure?”

“I’ve done worse. Just don’t tell anyone.”

With a laugh you leaned forward, offering the roll to him and expecting him to pull it from your fingers, but instead, he just leaned over, pursing his lips around the end close enough to have them brushing against your skin as he pulled the smoke into his lungs and then promptly pulled away choking. There was no helping your eruption of giggles and snorts as he wheezed and heaved, his head shaking in disgust and embarrassment alike.

“Do not tell,” he stammered, “a god damn soul.”

“I’ll do my best,” you teased, standing so he’d follow you inside as he shot you a glare, “I promise,” you finally conceded, hands raised in surrender, “Cross my heart hope to die,” you finished, holding your pinky out as you grinned up at him.

“Cute.”

Another snort rumbled from your chest as he rolled his eyes, ignoring your gesture of good faith and retreating to your couch, plopping down on the middle cushion and resting his head back, his eyes drifting closed. You plopped down beside him, knees tucked to your chest, grabbing your TV and DVD player remotes off the small table set in front of you, turning on whatever series you’d been watching. Thankfully, it was The Office yet again, and you were happy it was something he’d at least moderately enjoy, but your concerns about the TV went out the window as his arm looped around your legs and pulled them straight over his lap, his eyes not even bothering to open as he rest forearms almost as thick as your calves over your knees.

Within minutes he was asleep, his deep, easy breathing a sound you’d come to crave as you lay in bed alone in your room. His mouth was slightly open, his face relaxed and the tension from the day melted away. At least you’d been right, it did put him right to sleep. The urge to drift off here in the safety of the presence you longed for was strong enough to have you fighting your eyes to stay open as you debated, his arms still heavy over the top of you. He looked so at peace; would jostling him rob him of the serenity he’d found here?

It felt wrong to allow him to wake up tangled in you, he was still slightly drunk and now under the effects of Eugene’s hybrid blend, what if tomorrow he woke up mortified with your body so close to his? Carefully, you slipped free of his hold, gently laying him down on the single couch pillow you’d managed to clean well enough to use, the tattered blanket he’d let you keep from your time on the road barely enough to cover him as you draped it over his still-unmoving body. Well, he was at least out cold.

Your own bed felt colder, the room too silent as you tried to forget the source of comfort just one floor below you now instead of blocks away, the knowledge that at least he was safe here in your living room calming enough to let you drift into a light sleep.

The sun was barely up when you woke, gray light filling your room as you woke without a scream still in last night’s clothes. It was silent, your mind reminding you that Joel was on the couch and your feet hit the cold wooden floor quickly in hopes you’d beat him to the morning. But as you turned into the room, the couch was empty, the blanket folded neatly on top of the couch, his guitar gone from where it had been perched against the side. You weren’t surprised, hell, maybe you’d dreamed it. It wasn’t unlike your brain to play cruel tricks on you.

Sighing, you made your way to the kitchen, your mouth dry and your stomach gurgling, a plastic container filled with cookies on the counter the first sight you saw before a single white sheet of notepaper from the pad by your couch caught your eye hanging on the fridge. The simple inscription scribbled in messy penmanship made your eyes roll as your lips ticked up into a knowing grin.

Thanks. -J

Chapter 8

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic

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moonshoon · 1 year

Text

when someone caught you two making out

MASTERLIST

>> lee heeseung

you were at their dorm because he had called you earlier and told you to come over because they were having a movie night. of course you were so excited to go there and in less than ten minutes you already arrived

you were preparing to watch the movie, but most of them where just lazing around on the couch and not doing anything

at some point you and heeseung were the only ones left preparing snacks in the kitchen and you could hear the other members calling for the both of you

"we're about to start the movie! come here if you don't want to miss it!"

"and don't forget the snacks, guys!"

heeseung shouted back that you'll be ready in a minute and they should already start the movie

"it's like we're their parents", he said and you just nodded. then he walked over to you and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind while you were filling up a bowl with caramel popcorn

"give me a kiss, wifey~/husband~", he whispered as he turned you around to place his lips onto yours gently. and soon later you were sitting on the countertop with hee in between your legs. you were making out and he was caressing your thighs when you heard a gasp come from the other side of the room. he quickly pulled away from your lips and looked up at the door, where riki was standing

"i'll have to bleach my eyes now or else i'll always have the picture of hyung literally almost eating you...", riki said while looking at you

"give me the snacks and i'll leave you both alone again"

heeseung quickly took the bowl with the chips and the one with the popcorn and gave them to riki. then he ran away into the living room shouting:

"never send me to get them again! i'm too young to see things like that"

>> park jongseong

it was after one of their concerts when jay came from the stage exhausted. he walked over to you and sat next to you on the couch and leaned his head onto your shoulder to close his eyes and rest a bit. you didn't say anything and just patted his head to calm him down

"can you come with me really quick, babe?", he asked

"sure! what for?"

"just come with me..."

and he was already pulling you along with him

the both of you stopped at the toilet and he pulled you into the room there to push you against the wall and smash his lips onto yours. he was holding your waist tightly, almost with a bruising grip

"what's this for?", you asked as you pulled away from him

"i need a distraction from all of this stress. please just kiss me"

and you kissed him again, wrapping your hands around his neck, feeling the dampness of his hair against your arms. his tongue was caressing yours as he lifted you up to wrap your legs around him

then the door opened suddenly and the both of you jumped apart at the noise

"oopsies, sorry... i didn't mean to interrupt you. i just really need to go to the toilet?", sunoo said awkwardly

"sorry, sunoo. we'll leave", jay apologized and the both of you went back to the other members while feeling very much very cringe

>> sim jaeyun

jake invited you out on a date today since you haven't been anywhere alone in almost two weeks because of his tight schedule. the both of you went out to an ice cream place at the park and took a walk while eating your ice creams. then you went to the store to get some fruits, berries, and drinks to then go to the beach and have a chill picnic there

since it was late autumn and pretty cold already there were almost no people with you at the beach and the both of you could talk about random things without other people listening

after almost an hour of just talking, you decided to make a move and kiss him. it was a very rare occurrence that you actually kissed in private since he always had to be around the members, but today he was free to go alone

"ooh baby, i see where you're going with this~"

he sensually kissed you back, maneuvering you onto his lap and caressing your thigh over the tights you were wearing. the kiss quickly got heated and his hands started travelling around your body until –

"sim jaeyun! how dare you do things like this out in public?!"

heeseung came out yelling from behind one of the bushes next to the beach

"how can you be so careless? there could be paparazzi everywhere and you're out here at the beach making out with your girlfriend/boyfriend? i can't believe it!"

"i'm sorry you're single, okay mom?"

jake snapped back at him grabbing your hand and pulling you away as he saw the others coming out too. he couldn't believe they would walk after him like this and try to stalk him in his free time with his girl/boy

(they went back later and all apologized to jake and hee told him he was just worried for their relationship to be made public and you getting hate for it)

>> park sunghoon

he was out with the members filming an episode of en-o'clock, more specifically the one where they all went ice skating.

in the middle of their break from filming you called him, asking if you could come and see them record. he asked the directors and managers if you were allowed to, and since they said yes, he informed you and in no time, you were there, admiring your boyfriends skating skills while the others were just goofing around.

when they had their second break, he made another round on the ice, then proceeded to skate towards you with full speed just to make a few pirouettes in front of you, then stop and bow down before bending over the ring fence and taking your face with both his hands and pulling you into a kiss.

you were shocked, but still kissed him back lovingly.

"come on, hoon! don't make us feel single and go to a room please..." heeseung said as he tried to make is way over to the exit, the others following with much difficulty, riki even falling once.

"come on hoon, let's go somewhere else." you suggested and pulled him out by his hand.

he quickly took off his skates and put on the slippers that were put on the side for them, then stood up and lead you to the changing room. his hands were on your waist as you both stumbled into the room and he pressed you against the wall after closing the door. soft lips on yours, tongues dancing against each other, you expressed your love and admiration.

until: "AH!"

sunoo stood there, eyes and mouth wide open, staring at the both of you.

"uh... wa-water? water bottle, yes!" he stuttered and quickly made his way to his bag and back out, closing the door. not even a second later he opened the door again, peeking with his head inside "you can continue now."

you hid your face in his chest, flushed red with embarrassment but he just held you close and caressed your back.

"they will be teasing me about this forever now..." he said with a sigh "but why don't we continue this, hm?"

>> kim sunoo

my sun 🌻: come over and watch kdama with me? you: on my way!

and that's how you got here. you were laying next to him with your head on his shoulder, watching some drama you don't remember the name of. sunoo was fangirling about how cute the couple was when they kissed and you just agreed

but not even five seconds later it cut to a scene where the guy was pinning the girl against a wall and literally sucking the soul out of her body.

„you know, you could do that too..." you said quietly

„hm??!" he was shocked, but honestly he wouldn't complain. „you really want me to do that??" (still in disbelief)

and when you just shyly nodded he cupped your face with one hand and pulled you into a kiss. it was very calm and lovely at first but then he swiped his tongue over your bottom lip. you slowly opened your mouth as he let his tongue slide in and explore your mouth. in the meantime you were pulled onto his lap and his hands were on your legs holding on tightly.

„sun- what the FUh?"

you didn't even hear the door opening, and wouldn't have noticed anyone if jay wouldn't have said anything. surprisingly your normally very sweet and shy boyfriend didn't pull away but just continued kissing you passionately, moving his hand around your waist.

„I didn't know sunoo was this freaky..." and then he left.

sunoo pulled away, you both breathing heavily, when he heard the door shut again.

„i should do this more often, what do you think?"

in your trance you could just nod, still not realising his band member literally caught you two making out on his bed.

>> yang jungwon

„my god. i feel so dumb and irresponsible and what else not! i am here sick for the third day and the others are out practicing for our new comeback. look at me just lazing around. honestly disappointing."

sometimes you just couldn't take all the negative comments jungwon made about himself.

„it's okay. you deserve a few days of rest too, even if you are their leader. and plus, you are sick and we don't want you to get even sicker because you couldn't rest properly." you tried to comfort him.

„and you are definitely not a bad leader at all!"

„thank you for all your concern, love. i really don't know what i would do without you by my side"

he leaned over and captured your soft lips in a lovely kiss, caressing your cheek as he expressed his love with the action

„come here baby~" he whispered and pulled you closer, and soon your sweet, innocent little kiss turned into a full blown make out session.

you pulled away as you said „it's your fault if i get sick after this."

„i don't care, let me have your lips right now. that's all the medicine it takes for me to feel better."

and he pulled you back into the kiss again.

„junwonnie we're back and brought you some sna- sorry!"

jake closed the door again quickly and you could both hear him tell the others you were busy while walking away.

the next time jungwon walked out of the room he was bombarded with questions about what was going on in there

>> nishimura riki

this boy.

he called you over to hang out almost two hours ago, just for him to sit in front of his pc with his headphones on, playing fifa with his friends and completely ignoring your presence.

you have tried to make him notice you several times but he just didn't want to focus on his own girlfriend/boyfriend apparently.

„rikiiiiiiiiiiiii" you called out

„hm?"

he was too focused on his dear games to even look back at you for a millisecond

„can we do something else?"

„i'm about to finish, babe. then we can do whatever you want. promise!"

and that's what he said the last four times too.

you set a limit for yourself and decided to wait. if he wouldn't have finished playing in thirty minutes you would leave without hesitating or looking back. you wouldn't care about him calling after you, after he had literally ignored you for two full hours

just as you expected, he didn't show any signs of stopping at all, still shouting at his friends through the headset. you even gave him five extra minutes, but still nothing.

when you got up to leave he still didn't react, but as you walked over to the door and opened it, he turned his head towards you.

„where are you going?"

„home, since you obviously don't care about my presence here..."

as you said that, he quickly removed his headset, almost letting it fall to the ground, and he quickly stood up. he made his way over to you and hugged you.

„please don't leave. i'll pay attention to you now!"

„too late, i'm leaving" and you tried to escape from his hold but he was just too strong. that's when he turned you back around, making you face him and quickly pressed his lips onto yours. his hands moved to your waist, holding you against him tightly.

„love birds! dinner is rea- literally love birds the two of them are..."

his mom just walked out again, not making much of a fuss about seeing her son kiss his girlfriend/boyfriend. but at the dinner table she then turned into a whole ass cop trying to interrogate the both of you on your relationship.

riki was just hiding his face in his palms while you were blushing uncontrollably and never raising your gaze from your hands in your lap.

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen reaction #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jongseong #enhypen jay #enhypen jake #enhypen jaeyun #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunoo #enhypen jungwon #enhypen niki #enhypen riki #enhypen fluff #enhypen making out #enhype suggestive

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nocasdatsgay · 3 months

Text

The Price You Pay for Power Ch. 2

Pairing: Neris

Word Count: 1741 | Warnings: None | Chapter rating: T

Story Summary: Eris revises his bargain with Rhysand: Nesta for Autumn Healers. He agrees and Nesta is sent to Autumn under the guise as Eris’s new bride in order to assist with removing Beron for good. Now she has to navigate a new court and also decide just how much she will trust her new husband

Chapter Summary: Eris retrieves his bride.

Master Post | Read it here on AO3 | Previous Chapter

Or read below

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The morning came too soon. Nesta woke with puffy eyes in the dress she wore the day before. Instead of getting ready for training, she changed into her favorite simple pewter dress and packed what little she truly owned. At one point she turned to see the house had placed books she read repeatedly on top of her folded clothes. She tried not to cry.

“I will miss you,” she whispered. The house replied by adding another book to the stack.

She thought of Gwyn and Emerie. She wrote a quick letter to them both. Explaining what happened and that she would write again when she could. She tried to not let her tears ruin the paper. The house took the letters; she would need to learn how to do it on her own once she left. She doubted Eris would teach her.

A knock startled her. “Come and eat, Nes.” Cassian.

If she hadn’t gone to bed so distressed without supper she would have ignored him. She ate in silence and refused to look at Cassian even when he tried to start a conversation. He was steadily getting annoyed with her until Rhysand walked in. She did not see Azriel before she left and wondered if he had avoided her on purpose. She quietly followed Rhysand and Cassian out of the kitchen.

“I want to see my sisters. To tell them goodbye.” Nesta held her chin up and looked Rhysand in his eyes. She hoped the shadows under his eyes meant he suffered from a lack of sleep. “You owe me that much.”

He did not argue with her. She did not want either of them touching her, but ultimately allowed Cassain to carry her down. They arrived at the River House first. Cassain didn’t follow her as she quickly went inside. She found Elain and Feyre in the main sitting room. Feyre stood when she entered, a hand on her belly to steady her.

“Nesta.” Her brows furrowed with what Nesta thought to be worry. So Rhysand had told her. At least whatever version of events he concocted. “You’re really going through with this?”

“I am.”

Elain appeared beside Feyre, the same frown on her face. “Is this really what you want?”

“No.” The command did not stop her from answering that question truthfully.

Feyre’s head tilted. “Then why are you agreeing to marry Eris?”

Nesta could not respond. She fought it; mentally clawing and trying to pry her mouth open. The words were stuck in her throat. She wanted to scream that she didn’t want this. That there had to be other ways. But nothing allowed her to speak. What felt like an eternity, Nesta found the words.

“That is a question only your mate can answer.”

“No.” A semblance of understanding flashed across her face. “I won’t allow it.”

“Nesta.” A chill ran down her spine as she heard Rhysand say her name with such disdain.

“Rhys,” Feyre, with one hand on her stomach and the other on Nesta’s shoulder, stepped beside her. “What have you done? Why have you agreed to marry Nesta off to Eris? Without consulting me.”

“Feyre, darling,” his tone was so much softer with her. “I didn’t want to worry you and add stress to the baby. It’s only until Beron is dead. She isn’t officially marrying Eris.”

Nesta turned so sharply, it knocked Feyre’s hand off her shoulder. “That is not what you told me.”

A flash of red. “You didn’t tell her?” Cassian was standing in the doorway, eyes focused on the back of Rhysand’s head.

Nesta refused to feel guilty for the grief she felt last night thinking Cassian would let her go without a fight. She hoped he felt guilty for his response considering he knew now she thought it was permanent. Judging by the harsh look on his face, that seemed to be the case.

“I thought it was implied.” Rhysand sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s for you, Feyre. There are healers in Autumn. Healers who can help Madja deliver the baby. Safely. Healers we can trust.”

“And the marriage will be fake?” It was Elain who spoke up, meekly from behind her.

“For all intents, yes.” Rhys waved his hand towards Nesta. “She helps Eris kill Beron. Then she comes home.”

“Promise me,” Feyre narrowed her gaze at her mate.

“I promise.” He walked up to Feyre, lovingly taking her hand and kissing her cheek.

Even with that reassurance, something deep in her soul told her it was not as simple as he made it seem.

***

They arrived at the moonstone palace to find Eris waiting in the hall. Nesta wished she could run, burn the whole place down. She kept those feelings to herself. Despite what they thought of her, she cared about her sister. She didn’t want Feyre to die. As they approached, Eris looked at Rhysand and Cassian with contempt, before his gaze fell to her. He grinned.

“Nesta Archeron,” his eyes raked over her and she bristled. “I knew you had a good head on your shoulders.”

“I’m doing this for my sister,” she glared. He didn’t seem deterred.

He looked at Rhys, ignoring Cassian completely. “I had her things sent ahead. Edith will arrive in Hewn City two days from now to converse with your healers. I’ve already sworn her and her assistant to secrecy. As per our bargain.”

“If anything happens to Nesta, I will not hesitate to kill you.” Cassian with his wings tucked tight, the siphon flashed on his chest.

Eris rolled his eyes. “I think she’s more than capable of handling herself. If you don’t mind, I want to speak to my bride alone before we depart.”

Cassian clenched his fists, but Rhys put his hand on his arm.

“Cass.” He looked between Nesta and Eris. “Don’t overstay your welcome, Eris. The wards will only be down for less than an hour.” Hand still on Cassian, he winnowed them away.

“Insufferable,” Eris muttered. He turned to Nesta. “There are rules you should be privy to before you enter Autumn.”

“Let me guess, females are to be seen not heard.”

Eris did not seem amused. He ignored her comment.

“Unlike this court, open affection isn’t expected and honestly frowned upon. There isn’t a need to keep up appearances through physical displays.”

“Good. I don’t want you touching me.”

He again ignored her jab.

“You already dress more modestly than the rest of Night, so that will not be an issue. Clothes will be provided to you in your chambers. As my wife, you’ll be expected to coordinate with me. Mostly for dinners. We will meet in the evenings to discuss our plans in my chambers. They’re warded.

“At the moment, Asher is the most trustworthy of my brothers that live in Autumn. He will not harm you. His wife is also trustworthy and I’ll introduce you when we arrive. The others are fascinated and terrified of you. I would still avoid finding yourself alone with them. Do not mention Lucien or what your sister is to him. My father doesn’t know and it needs to stay that way.

He paused and narrowed his gaze. “You will be respectful to my mother. She will want to get to know you. If you are rude to her in any way, I will send you back. Bargain be damned.”

From what she expected, those were reasonable requests. She realized he was waiting for a response.

“Understood. And what is the plan in place for our false engagement?”

“False?” Eris laughed coldly. “Our very real wedding is tomorrow.”

Nesta felt like the world tilted under her feet and the breath left her lungs. “But he said-“

“He said what? That we wouldn’t be wed?” Eris’s smile was condescending.

“He said it was pretend.” She tried to remain calm despite the worry building inside her. “Until Beron is dead. Then I could come home.”

“I told Rhys I would delay it as much as possible but my father is too suspicious and wants you locked in for the court. He sees no reason in an engagement period. When he is dead, I’ll work on an annulment.” Eris said dismissively. Then he wrinkled his nose and looked down at her. “In the meantime, you will need a bath and a change of clothes before you’re introduced. You reek of that animal.”

“Don’t call him that,” she said through her teeth.

“I call him what he is.” He stepped forward so close she recoiled. In a hushed tone he leaned in and said to her, “If you want to make it out of Autumn alive, you will not argue with me again. The moment we step into that house, reluctant or not, you will play the part of my wife. Everyone will be watching and listening. They’ll be waiting for you to falter.” He took a breath, almost like a sigh. “There is no doubt in my mind that you can do this. You have power straight from the cauldron itself. So act like it.”

He stepped back and straightened up. His cold amber eyes ran over her again and she held back a shiver. He held out his arm, wordlessly willing her to take it. She looked back down the hall of the moonstone palace. She wondered if Cassian came back and was still here somewhere, waiting for her to depart. She steeled herself and looped her arm around Eris’s. She didn’t remember him being this warm when they danced.

“You've winnowed before, correct?” She nodded. “Good.”

No other warning was given as she was swept away. The world moved quickly without her even taking a step herself. It was like she was dragged into flames, smoke billowing about them and she clung tighter onto Eris’s arm. As quickly as it started, they stopped. She exhaled loudly.

Before her was the most beautiful place she’d ever seen. Trees as far as she could see, covered in bright oranges, yellows, and red. Much brighter than any she’d seen in the human realm or even in Valaris. The house before them was more like a castle; and looked to be made of a tree itself, the stone a deep brown like bark. There were a series of steps in front of them with two guards posted beside large entryway doors.

Eris removed his arm from hers. “Welcome to the Autumn Court, Nesta.”

Next Chapter

#Neris #nesta archeron #eris vanserra #eris acotar #pro eris vanserra #pro nesta archeron #acosf #acosf au #Fanfic #the price you pay for power #Chapter 2 #nesta x eris #Welcome to the Autumn Court

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kiryoutann · 2 years

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Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

I appreciate the likes, replies, and reblogs! Thank you so much. You can buy me a Kofi to give me tip for my writings (no pressure!) I’ll forever be grateful to u! <3

The thin clouds that had previously covered the moon finally left, giving it a chance to shine Snezhnaya under its pale light. The wind howled, moving the branches that knocked on the windows of the classic building.

Childe lay with a woman in his arms. They both share one thing in common—naked under the covers after their love-making. Although the burning fireplace had provided enough warmth for them not to shiver in the Snezhnaya autumn chill, neither one wanted to let each other go.

Lumine closed her eyes while enjoying the rhythm of his heart beating against his chest. She hoped that time would pass slowly, because tomorrow she had to return to Monstadt with her twin brother. Which meant she didn't know when she would see Childe again.

Therefore, Lumine chose to open her mouth despite the possibility of spoiling the atmosphere. "I heard you talked to the Princess." She says.

As expected, Childe groaned in annoyance from her words, not hiding his annoyance in the slightest. “Really, Babe? We just had a nice sex and you have to spoil the mood by bringing that up?”

“You have no intention to tell me so, I guess I should ask.” Lumine watched as he let go of his embrace and lay staring at the ceiling. "So, what did she say? What did you say?"

From the question, he lost his mind to his fiancée who had probably arrived in her country after sailing home for four days. He remembered that day. The day he knelt before her, apologizing and begging for her to continue the marriage. She melted her heart for him after he made a promise to leave his lover, and yet now he is in bed with the said woman.

"Childe." Lumine brought him back to reality. "What did she say?" She demanded, getting impatient now.

Childe was a liar to the Princess but an even bigger liar to Lumine when he said: "She said she wouldn't call off the wedding." A shrewd lie without hesitation.

Lumine furrowed her brows, "She said that?" She shook her head in disbelief. "And here I thought she was going to curse you."

Crazy that he thought that would be better if that was the case. However, let alone cursing, any negative expression didn't stop on her face even for a second. Childe clenched his jaw from irritation as soon as the memory of the calm Princess played back. She really made him look like an idiot, kneeling begging like she was the most important thing to him.

"What did you say afterwards? Why don't you just cancel the wedding?" Lumine still has her questions.

Childe sighed as he closed his eyes. "And here I thought you know it's not that easy." He got up to sit on the edge of the bed, picking up his shirt which was hanging carelessly on the nightstand. She had already started with her interrogation session and he had to leave before this got any longer.

Lumine sat on the bed, “Are you going home? When I asked you questions?”

“Babe, let's not end this with a fight.” He said while buttoning his shirt.

Her golden eyes did not hide her displeasure at his response. He was way too calm even though he knew the wedding that would separate them would take place shortly after the Princess' coming-of-age banquet—which would be two months away. He had the authority to cancel it, but he didn't.

Or maybe that's what he wanted too. So, is all their talk about the future just nonsense then? Where should Lumine throw those dreams?

Childe who dodged the questions put a doubt in her heart.

"Do you really love me?"

Childe paused for a moment from her question, turning around to find her head hung low. He didn't need to see her expression to know she was sad, the trembling in her voice was enough to represent that.

“Hey, what are you talking about? Of course I love you, you know that."

"Do I?" Lumine raised her gaze. "Then cancel the wedding."

Childe laughed dryly, crawling to her. "I can’t do that." He told her.

Those golden eyes glared at him, "Why? You don't love her, do you?"

Childe choked on his own laughter. What Lumine said was by far the funniest joke he had ever heard in his entire life. Him loving the Princess? If that day came, then he believed the sun would rise from the west and the entire universe would collapse.

"You're so funny." He pinched her cheek lightly. "Don't worry about things like that. You know I’ll marry you once I have full authority as king.”

Lumine raised her eyebrows asking for more explanation. “Can you imagine what those bastards would do if they found out I threw away their princess for you? I don't want to put you in danger when I'm just a prince."

Apart from being a liar, Childe is a sweet talker. He brushed off her irritation and doubt, which was replaced by a nod and a smile.

"Fine then."

Childe kissed her lips, then her knuckles. “You have my word on that.”

The ginger haired man got up from the bed. He walked towards the dressing table where Lumine had put the things she hadn't put in the suitcase. A smile was carried on his face when he found the pink perfume he had given her. Lumine watched him pick it up, spraying it all over his body before setting it down slowly.

“Gotta smell like my girl.” Childe gave her a wink.

Lumine suppressed her smile. "Just leave already."

"Alright, alright." He picked up his jacket from the floor and put it on. "Don't miss me too much, okay?"

Childe turned the doorknob. He stepped out of the room, greeted by a dim hallway supported only by a row of wall lamps. He descended the carpeted stairs one by one and ended up in the voyer, where a man he recognized stood as if waiting for him.

Even though he couldn't see it clearly, Childe had grown familiar with Aether—Lumine's twin brother. The Duke bowed respectfully, then continued to glare at him.

"Your Highness Crown Prince Childe."

Childe wore a smile that didn't reach his eyes, "Duke."

Aether didn't reply. He had always been one of those people who dared to show his distate for him. "I see you are still visiting my sister."

"What's wrong with that?"

Golden eyes closed to relieve anger from his rhetorical question. "You are someone else's fiancé and will be getting married soon." Aether hoped it would knock some sense into him.

"Oh, don't be so cold, Duke!" Childe laughed, placing a hand on the blonde's shoulder. "You talk as if you don't know how marriage works in our world."

Aether paid no heed to his attempts to make the situation less hostile. “With all due respect to you, please stay away from my sister. This will only bring bad things not only to you and Lumine but, to the Princess as well.”

From his words that sounded commanding, Childe erased the fake expression he was wearing, now not covering the cold gaze from those blue eyes of his. He was just a duke from another country, and he had the audacity to speak in that way to the heir to the Snezhnaya throne? Aether must know his place.

There was so much he was holding back from not strangling him right now. “Apparently there are some people who have forgotten their position.” He took a step closer to Aether. "If I was in a bad mood, that would have been your last breath."

This was precisely why Aether didn't want Childe anywhere near Lumine. Besides the fact that he will justify any means to get what he wants, he is the most selfish human he has ever met. Despite having the achievement of becoming Snezhnaya’s war general, it does not rule out the fact that he is one of the most dangerous people in Teyvat.

Feeling that his point had been made, Childe walked past him, leaving a cold wind blowing against his face. Aether watched his back as he headed towards the horse carriage that was waiting for him.

Sooner or later, Lumine will be pulled down with him. Aether had to stop him before that happened.

Two months later, Childe set foot on the famous Liyue capital pier. He took off the red scarf that was wrapped around his neck when he realized the temperature here was much warmer than his home country. The voices of the merchants around greeted his ears.

“This way, Your Majesties and Your Highness.” Viktor—his right hand man—said after bowing, leading him to the waiting horse carriage.

On their way to the imperial palace, boredom hit him. Even so, he made no effort to bring up the conversation with his parents sitting in the opposite direction. Blue eyes looked out the window, hoping that Liyue would cheer him up.

A country that seems more lively than Snezhnaya. He thinks it's because of their favorable climate. Many people on the roadside peddling merchandise in the form of spices and fresh fruits. Lanterns hung above with other decorations they were trying to put up as they climbed the wooden stairs.

Childe couldn't help but comment, "Is Liyue always this colorful?" He smiled mockingly.

His mother stopped fanning herself and looked outside, realizing what he was talking about. "You didn’t know? They have a tradition of holding a festival every time a member of the imperial family has a birthday.”

"Is that true?" Childe put on his bored face again. "That's troublesome."

His father laughed. "What can we do about it? Their daughter's birthday is today. Soon enough, she will marry into another royal family.”

Marry into another royal family. Childe doesn't realize how close he is to letting go of his single days. After today, the days where he would be busy taking care of the wedding preparations would come. He wanted to speed things up to finish quickly.

"Make sure to look good in front of the Princess." His father reminded him.

Childe smiled bitterly. "Of course. After all, she is my fiancée."

Although he had been waiting for her coming-of-age in sight but, Childe found himself wishing for a postponement. However, time stops for nobody let alone him. Morning turned to night in the blink of an eye—Childe was now standing in the celebratory hall.

The walls of this large open hall were carved in gold, either because the royal family saw its artistic value or simply showing off its wealth to guests. Beneath the solidly colored chandelier, the people were lost in their conversation. The waiter who passed by was carrying a tray filled with Liyuean's drinks and food.

"Your Highness!" A shrill voice called out for him to turn around.

Childe found a woman—if she could enter here, she was definitely royalty—smiling so wide that he felt his jaw hurt from looking at her. She was the fourth woman to approach him tonight. In fact, none of them hide their intention to flirt with him.

Childe replied with his typical fake smile. How did people do that even though they knew he was the fiancé of the host of tonight's banquet?

"Good evening, Lady..?"

The woman was gloomy from him asking her name. “Your Highness, we have met before. Have you forgotten me?”

Oh, can you just give me your name and get out of my sight? Childe wanted to say however, did not. He laughed in an apologetic way, "If I didn't have a bad memory, I couldn't have forgotten the name of a woman as beautiful as you." He slipped a flirt that made a blush rise to her cheeks.

"I-it's Sophia, Your Highness. The daughter of Count Lancaster of Monstadt."

From the mention of that country, his mind wandered to a certain someone. He looked at Sophia again, remembering that Lumine had introduced her to him at a banquet earlier.

"Ah, Lady Lumine's friend." Childe felt strange calling her that.

Sophia nodded, "That's correct, Your Highness!" She cried out in joy. “Ever since you stepped foot here, I wanted to greet you right away! However, Lady Lumine is holding me back from doing that.”

There is a tug in his heart. “Lady Lumine did that?”

The brown-haired woman nodded not noticing the change in his expression. “I don't know what's wrong with her,” She said softly before getting excited again, “But, isn't that good? We can talk alone.”

“Where is Lady Lumine now?”

Regardless of the words or the smile that fell from her face, Childe looked her straight in the eye with his blue eyes. Even though he wasn't sure it would be a good choice to look for Lumine right now, he wanted to take a quick look. Is she wearing that blue dress he sent last week? The necklace that he specially ordered must have graced her neck beautifully, right?

Just as Sophia was about to raise her index finger to show where he could find her, the trumpet sounded without warning. Guests automatically face the large door.

"His Highness, the Crown Prince and Her Highness, Princess (Y/N) have arrived!"

In the arms held by your older brother, you passed through the door so gracefully wrapped in a traditional Liyuean dress that is more majestic than the one you wore in his coming-of-age. Your hair was styled and tucked in accessories that glowed under the light. After descending a few wooden steps, people see the makeup that adds to your beauty.

You captured all the attention of those in the room, Childe was no exception. He didn't even realize he was holding his breath this whole time.

Every time you swept your eyes across people who weren't him, Childe still wouldn't admit he wished those beautiful eyes landed on him. He just stares at you, standing in a sea of people who didn’t do much for you to notice his presence.

Without even realizing it, he had forgotten his intention to search for Lumine.

After the emperor raised his glass high to give a toast, the floor that was left empty was filled with professional performers. They danced gracefully, slender hands decorated with various striking jewelry that entertained guests from all over the world. On the sidelines, there are still many people who come to you to congratulate.

"Someone's getting older today."

You turned quickly when you heard a voice you would recognize everywhere. Within your line of sight is Zhongli. To support the appearance in his traditional dress, the long hair that is usually tied is loose but, neat enough to still show the earrings in his ears. You smiled even though you couldn't remember the last time you saw him like this.

"Zhongli!"

Your enthusiasm from his presence widens his smile. "I congratulate Your Highness' coming-of-age." He bowed politely.

You laughed at his formal way of speaking. Nonetheless, you nodded in acceptance of his words, “Thank you, Duke Zhongli. Though, I have to admit I was quite curious about what you gave me as a present this year.”

Of the many people who give you gifts every time you get older, Zhongli's is the one you care about the most (or you could say the one that doesn't end up being kept in an empty palace room). He has a strange taste in choosing what he wants to give, the proof of which is that he gave a flower statue made of gold last year.

“Something different from previous years. Considering it will likely be your last year staying in the imperial palace.”

The line does its job to put a burden on your heart, erasing that smile for a moment before being replaced with a fake one. You notice a change in your mood, trying to ward it off by repeating the reasons you would do it. However, it is undeniable that lifting your foot from where you grew up is not as easy as turning your palm.

"Oh, he's coming."

Zhongli's voice took you from your long thought to turn to Childe who was walking towards you. He put on a smile that didn't sparkle in his eyes as usual to make him look friendly to you. Before he arrived, Zhongli thought of leaving first. He excused himself from your presence, reasoning that he wanted to talk to Duchess Ningguang.

"Who is that?" One of the nobles whispered curiously.

"I think it's Crown Prince Childe of Snezhnaya, the Princess's fiancé." Another one answered.

From the movement and gazes he doesn't take away from you, Childe gathers people's gazes on the two of you. You pay attention to him, examine his clothes and thought that grey is good on him. If you weren't capable of seeing the future, you'd think he was more like a golden retriever than a wolf in sheep's clothing.

You bowed slightly as he stood before you, “I greet His Highness Prince Childe.” Your facial expression is no less fake than his.

Childe holds out a hand which you welcome with yours. He lands a kiss on the skin of the back of your hand, then looks up with a smile. "Congratulations on your coming-of-age, Princess." His voice has honey and sweetness in it.

You slowly pulled your hand away as he let go. "Thank you, Prince Childe. I hope you enjoy the celebration.”

"What do I not enjoy when my fiancée stands so beautifully in front of me?"

You laugh at the compliment which is actually one of his camouflage as a future love-struck partner. Even if you're not convinced yet, it's enough to make the nobles around you whisper behind their glasses and fans. Maybe you should give Childe some credit for his hard work.

"Prince always knows what to say." You said.

"Your Highness." You both turned to the bespectacled man whom you recognized as your father's confidant. He bowed to the two of you before saying his point into the conversation. “Pardon for the intrusion, Your Highness. His Majesty asks for your presence."

"Oh, is that so?"

You look the other way in search of your father but, back to Childe when you can't find him. "That is unfortunate, I'd love to talk to you more, Prince." You speak to him so apologetic despite knowing the possibility he finds pleasure in this.

Childe smiled. "So do I. However, I can't be selfish when the Emperor is asking you."

You nodded, “Thank you for understanding. Then I'll go." You curtsied to him.

Childe reflects what you do. He watched you turn around, walking away with your long dress sweeping the hall floor. Once he sensed you were far enough away from him, he dropped all his exhausting fake expressions.

Blue eyes scanned the entire room. He noticed the fireworks exploding in the sky over the capital. It was golden in color, reminiscent of someone's eyes.

Lumine. He had to find Lumine.

His guess was right about looking for her in the gardens of the Liyue imperial palace. It was far enough away that he felt safe to approach her who was standing under the gazebo by the lake. He had sneaked glances at the hall before, however, being in front of her like this made him notice the glittering details of the blue dress he had chosen for her.

Lumine recognized his presence behind her but, for some reason chose to keep staring at the moon's reflection in the water. "Turns out it's not that easy."

"What is?" Childe walked over.

The blonde woman turned around, finding him looking handsome and not so far away. “Seeing you with the Princess, kissing her hand and praising her in front of the crowd.”

"I can give you more."

A bitter scoff slipped out of Lumine, yet, she wasn't worried he'd hear it. "Have you both set a wedding date yet?" She asked, hoping that at least a shake of his head was the answer.

Maybe Aether was right. That not everything is worth holding on to the end. Choosing to be with a man who was soon to be married was wrong, Lumine should know that. However, she still thought it would be unfair for them who loved each other to just give up when Princess's relationship with Childe didn't have that.

As if reading her complicated thoughts, Childe lifted her tiny chin. He stared at her beautiful golden orbs, then landed a kiss that hoped to ease the pain in her chest.

People in love mostly do unreasonable things. People who have their partner in their arms tend to forget about their surroundings. However, the two of them should have known not to think they were completely alone.

"Princess?"

Childe didn't know what was wrong with the room the Liyue empire had prepared for him. He judged the furniture and atmosphere as very comfortable for him. However, no matter how much he tossed and turned on the bed, his eyes refused to close to go to sleep.

That was the reason he chose to take a walk in the garden at the very end of the palace even though his bones ached from the banquet that ended four hours ago. However, he did not expect to meet her here.

You turned your head from his call, "Prince Childe?"

The man approaches you. You notice he's wearing a long robe, while he wonders where you're going in a hooded robe like that—not to mention the absence of bodyguards around you.

"Are you going somewhere?" He couldn't help but ask.

For a moment he thought you wouldn't answer him, feeling it was none of his business to know. He watched you nod before setting your sights on the fireworks exploding in the sky outside the high walls of the imperial palace. The festival of celebration that the Liyue people hold whenever a member of the imperial family gets older.

"The festival." You answered.

Childe didn't expect you to sneak around at night just to visit the festival, alone. You don't seem to think about the risk of being kidnapped or killed. Isn't this very reckless of you? Have you not yet realized your value to your own people and your enemies? Many people will do anything to harm you (him included).

"Alone?"

You nodded again, "I've done this many times."

“However, it is still dangerous.” Childe reminds you.

You don't want to hear his protests, so you ask him a question: “What about you? Why are you here?”

Childe looked back at you, "I can't sleep."

A frown on your face. "Is the bed not to your liking?"

Childe shook his head quickly, “It's not like that. I'm just not sleepy." He says.

"Oh."

Silence fell upon you both. You are lucky enough that the wind blows even though it doesn't wash away the awkwardness between two people who are about to get married but, doesn't quite know each other. The cool night brings new ideas to your brain.

“Would you like to join me?”

"Allow me to come with the Princess."

Unexpectedly, the two of you are talking at the same time, with the same topic. Two pairs of different colored eyes stare at each other for a few moments before you are the first to laugh, finding the situation amusing.

As soon as your laughter died down, you spoke up saying: "Okay, I'll be your tour guide, Your Highness."

This night is full of strange things. At the banquet earlier, there was a guest who was too generous to offer you a large gold-plated frog statue. Then a group of noble ladies asked you to have a tea party tomorrow morning and made you order your ladies-in-waiting to prepare it. And as the closing, you sneaked out of the imperial palace with your soon-to-be husband who was secretly planning to kill you in the future.

Even if you believe that many stars stretch across the dark night sky, the light of the lanterns seems to dim them. On the streets where people pass by, you feel the warmth in your chest when you see their happy smiles.

Your birthday.. do they like it that much?

Crowds crowded the festival. All around them was the rhythm of musicians, echoing softly as drums were pounded to enliven the atmosphere. Meanwhile, the fireworks they continued to launch seemed endless. People carrying a variety of Liyuean street food in their hands.

To Childe, Liyue was a foreign land. However, now that he was standing here, he no longer found it a bad thing if it meant that he would continue to discover new things every day.

"Very crowded." You commented to yourself but, Childe who heard it realized the potential for the two of you to be separated or lost.

His hand is stretched high enough for you to catch it from the corner of your eye. Under the hood that shielded his face from the light, you stared into his blue eyes with yours widening.

"Take my hand. I don't want us to be separated here." He said followed by a smile.

At first, you looked at his big, naked hands with some doubt. However, when the fireworks exploded in mid-air once again—showcasing their colorful crown and making you excited to go further into the festival—you let Childe hold your hand.

Strange. Didn't you say you'd be the tour guide for this festival? Then, why was he the first to walk through the sea of people? Protecting you from colliding with others by putting you behind his broad back.

You end up visiting several tenants including one selling street food. From end to end you make sure your special guest try the sweet and savory that Liyue has to offer. Oddly enough, Childe has no problem with that other than not being able to use chopsticks (which you both solve by buying food that doesn't require one).

Your next stop is a person who sells various accessories and jewelry. Although it can't be compared to what you usually get from your father and other nobles, it's enough to make you approach enthusiastically.

“Come and find what you want! Lady, what kind of accessories are you looking for?” The merchant greets you as soon as you stand in front of his desk.

"Ah, let me have a look."

You swept your eyes at the merchandise. From brooches, necklaces, rings, bracelets, to hair accessories he sells. Your hands want to take a closer look at the pink hair pins, but you remember having something almost the same to this. You're not a big fan of jewelry so you have no intention of collecting anything similar.

"How about this one?"

Childe opened his mouth when you were about to excuse yourself for not finding what you wanted. When you turned around, you found him picking up a brooch. He lifts it close to you to reveal its leaf shape with diamonds that coincidentally have the same color as your eyes.

"It has the same color as your eyes." Childe said. The diamond he was talking about reflected the light of the lantern on it.

You smiled amused, "Do you think it's beautiful?"

Childe nodded, "Yes." You think he's referring to the diamond.

You took one more glance at the brooch. "Hmm, I guess that's not bad."

“No,” Childe said suddenly, making you look up at him in confusion. "I was talking about your eyes. I think you have beautiful eyes, Princess."

You didn't expect that, at all. And so, your mouth hung open for a few moments before muttering the quietest thank you. You watched as Childe showed the brooch to the old merchant, said he would buy it and then took some gold coins out of his pocket.

The warm wind blows again. The petals of the cherry blossom tree that you didn't even know existed danced in the air. As soon as you look up, you find the dark sky still stretched out, making you wonder if the night is still long.

After leaving the merchant earlier, Childe again cupped your hand in his. He splits the crowd and makes sure you stay behind him. That broad back... you wonder if he has the scars from all the battles he's survived. A battle that spreads fear at the utterance of the name 'Tartaglia'.

Then, you’re curious about one more thing.

If the circumstances were different—if he wasn't the same person who would wage war on your homeland, where would you two stand?

@thelovelydiviner @r0ttenhearts @tsunotaro-san @yguchild @a-random-bored-person @hoshikechi @dandelimoonus @cherlynono

(i don't know why there’s some username that I can't tag(´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀), i’ll try to do it in the reply if it’s possible.)

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