#this happened to me yesterday so i barely slept all night and was miserable and grouchy today most of jt | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

The average Tumblr user visits about 67 pages every month.

#this happened to me yesterday so i barely slept all night and was miserable and grouchy today most of jt

starrgaziinggg · 2 years

Text

BEGIN AGAIN | hwang hyunjin

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Hwang Hyunjin messes with your head, unknowingly, for over a month. Until you can't take it anymore.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Growing up with Chris Bang as your best friend had it's perks - a permanent bodyguard, a shoulder to cry on... and seven other boys who also became your best friends as you grew up together.

Week in, week out, your routine stayed the same. Study, go to class and patiently wait to attend your regular Friday evening home cooked meal with your friends. You just couldn't wait to graduate and start working, to rid yourself of exams and finally start earning some proper money like the boys.

Desperate to put some light back into your mundane, studious life, Chris forces you to start blind dating. Two miserable dates down and ready to murder the man, someone completely unexpected appears and makes a mess of your orderly life.

And a mess he does make.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: chapter fourteen

You woke up with a jolt, hearing an immense amount of crashing in your apartment.

"Fuck," you heard someone say from another room. You rubbed your eyes groggily, stretching out and squinting at the sun that was shining through your curtains. It looked like it would be a nice, spring day.

You were interrupted from your calm thoughts when you heard another loud bang.

"Oh for gods sake," the same voice said, and you groaned as you moved aside your covers to get out of bed. You stuffed your feet into your slippers and pulled on a hoodie, since your apartment was cold and your legs were bare. You were surprised when you weren't hit with a pounding headache instantly, but figured the tea you drank last night must have been your saviour.

You walked into a catastrophic sight. Hyunjin on the floor, surrounded by pots and pans, with flour everywhere. You couldn't help but take a picture on your phone of the scene in front of you, laughing as you did so.

"I've had an incident," the man said. He had white powder all over his clothes, the floor - his face. It was a disaster.

You reached out a hand to help him up, and he gladly took it, the clatter of pots and pans continuing as he moved.

"What the hell happened?" You said to him as you shook your head laughing. You watched as he dusted himself down, trying to rid himself of the flour all over him.

"I was getting things out of your cupboards to surprise you with pancakes, but all the stuff was just stuffed in there so it all fell down! Then I tried to put it all back, and it fell down and took the open bag of flour with it," he explained with an adorable pout. "This is just reminding me why I don't cook."

"Disaster seems to be following you around this week, Hyun," you said to him, beginning to pick up the pots and pans from the floor. "It's not your fault though, the shelf is broken in that cupboard so everything's in there haphazardly. I've been meaning to fix it but I just haven't found the time."

Hyunjin helps as you put the pots and pans on the countertop.

"This just ruins the whole thing," he mutters, mostly to himself.

"What whole thing?" You ask. He looks at you sheepishly.

"You're not doing anything today, right?"

"I'm seeing a man about a dog."

"Shut up," Hyunjin replies to your stupid joke. "I have the whole day planned, as an apology for being a fucking idiot last night."

You raise an eyebrow. "What does this day entail?"

He brings a finger to his lips. "It's a secret, but I know you'll like it. It actually is a blessing in disguise, this, because we didn't really have time to make pancakes anyway. It's already mid day, so I was just about to wake you up."

"It's mid day?" You say, checking the time. "God, I slept late."

"Well we were up until half three yesterday, so I don't blame you. Anyway, I've sent an email telling nobody at work to contact me for the day so I can switch off, and since you have no life responsibilities yet I figured you weren't up to much on a Saturday, so get ready cause we need to stop off at mine before we go."

You lightly punch his shoulder at the cheeky comment and he laughs as he pretends it's the worst pain he has ever felt, dramatically falling into the wall.

"I have plenty responsibilities, thank you," you huff, walking away from him to go into your room and get ready for the day.

"Watering your plants daily doesn't count," he shouts to you and you roll your eyes.

"What's the dress code for this mystery day out?" You shout back at him. Since you had no idea what you were going to be doing, you didn't know what to wear.

"Just something casual, but not too casual," he said as if that gave you any idea of what that meant. You just ignored him and sifted through your clothing options, until you came across a cropped green cardigan which you paired with white wide leg jeans and a white tube top. When you tried it on, you liked the outfit so you hoped it would look nice for whatever plans Hyunjin had. Your hair still had a curl in it from last night, so you just left it as is, putting on some light makeup to cover your dark under eyes. You grabbed a bag, not bothering with a jacket after checking the weather app, and walked back into the living area of your apartment.

"I tell these fuckers to leave me alone for one day - just one - and they still feel the need to bombard me with emails," he said huffily, engrossed in his phone. He looked up and smiled at you. "Perfect. You look pretty."

"Thanks, you look like crap," you said, trying not to blush from how easily he complimented you. He made a face as he mimicked your words and picked up his car keys. "You drove here last night? I thought you were drinking?"

"I was drinking Coke last night," he said with a confused face. You just nodded and forgot about it as you walked down the stairs and towards his parked car.

You drove the short distance to Hyunjin's apartment complex and he stopped the car. "You can...could you just wait here? We're driving and I'll only be two minutes anyway."

You just nodded without thinking too much, and attempted to connect your phone to his car's Bluetooth when he left. It took a second to figure out how his high tech car worker, but you managed and started playing music. Hyunjin returned shortly after, looking much more presentable, wearing a loose fitting button down and baggy black trousers. He looked really handsome, not that you'd ever tell him that.

"Oh, I love this song," he said to you as he got into the drivers seat and set off, seemingly knowing the route to wherever you were going.

"I know you do, that's why I played it," you said. You'd never told any of your friends this, but one night you'd sat and created a playlist for each one of them, filling it with songs you knew they'd like. Realistically, you only did it so you had the right music to play if you were on aux in their cars, but they'd still make fun of you for it even if you explained that.

"So you're really not going to tell me where we're going?"

"It's not far," he laughed. "You're so impatient! Are you hungry now, or would you rather get food after our first destination."

"I'm pretty hungry," you replied.

"Good girl," he said with a nod of his head, and you wanted to drown yourself for how you instantly got butterflies at the words. "We can stop off at a cafe quickly, there's a good one near to where we're going."

You just nodded and listened as the song changed. The drive was short, as Hyunjin had said, only around ten minutes. He pulled into a space in a car park in the centre of the city. You both got out and you followed Hyunjin. He led you to a back alley and you gave him an extremely concerned look.

"Don't give me that face, it's really cute," Hyunjin said, taking hold of the sleeve of your cardigan and practically dragging you down the alley. You came out the other side of the alley, and you were faced with a hidden café - vines and flowers encapsulating the area. You had no idea this place even existed.

"How did you find this?" You ask him as the two of you walk in. The interior was just as gorgeous as the exterior. And you stood in the short queue to order.

"On one of my walks. I don't know why I went down the alley, but I'm glad I did. It's one of my secret places, though, so you can't tell."

"And how many secret places do you have?" You reach the front of the queue and order a latte and a pastry, whilst Hyunjin orders an iced americano.

"That's a secret," he says with a wink. "I'd love to stay here, but we will be late if we don't go now, so let's walk and eat."

You both lapse into natural conversation as you walk out the cafe after paying and receiving your food. You had to admit, Hyunjin had a good eye for finding cute places. It seemed the man tried to romanticise his life as much as he could.

"Okay, you need to close your eyes for the foreseeable until I tell you to open," Hyunjin says when you assume you're closer to wherever he was taking you.

"That's sketchy. What if I fall over?"

"You won't, I've got you," he says, holding your hand and bringing it up to emphasise his point. "Now close those eyes."

You obliged, much to your discretion. But you both walked slowly forwards for a couple minutes, Hyunjin leading you forwards, until you turned a corner and walked into a building.

"Okay, I need to pay but please don't open your eyes or I will seriously kill you," he said, letting go of your hand. "Just wait here for two seconds."

You did as you were told, standing sheepishly playing with your hands as you kept your eyes closed. He'd gone to this much effort, and you could tell how much he wanted to surprise you, so you just followed along.

"Okay, done. Now, last bit," he says as he comes back and takes your hand again, leading you forwards. You began to walk forwards and started to hear quiet talking. Then, Hyunjin stood you still.

"Okay, open your eyes."

Your eyes widened as you opened them, turning to look all around you. You knew exactly where you were.

"The Van Gogh Exhibit?" You said as your eyes lit up, turning to face Hyunjin. He was grinning for ear to ear, loving your reaction.

"It opened in Seoul yesterday, and I knew you'd want to see it, so I thought I'd take you," he explained, holding your shoulders and turning you around to walk through the exhibit. It was gorgeous - the paintings were blown up on huge light up screens, and that was the only light in the room, so it made a gorgeous atmosphere. You were in awe at the beauty surrounding you.

Hyunjin and you both shared a love for art, and it was one of the reasons you got on so well as friends. You'd been to art museums before, but this was on another level. The two of you walked together, reading the information and looking at the paintings.

"You know," you said to him quietly. "Van Gogh is amazing, and he's extremely influential, but I just think his work is so depressing. He makes sunflowers look like they're crying."

"Hm," Hyunjin contemplates your words as you move to the next room. "But isn't that the beauty of his work? You can literally see his mental state in the brush strokes of his paintings. Is that why you prefer Monet?"

"Yep," you say. "Don't get me wrong, I appreciate Van Gogh and I love his art, but if we're talking about which pieces in particular make me feel good? Water lilies over Starry Night any day."

"I guess it comes down to personal preference. Art is subjective," he reminds you with a smile. "But I do have to agree with you. There's a certain serene vibe to Monet's paintings that is otherworldly."

You nod, continuing on with your tour of the exhibit. When you finish after about an hour and a half, you leave through the exit.

"That was amazing Hyunjin, Thank you," you told him.

"It's no problem, I wanted to see it just as much as you. Okay, next on the tour, we need to get some food for a picnic."

"You really have thought all this through, haven't you?" You giggle. He shrugs with a smile.

The two of you go into a nearby convenience store and you pick up a basket. You laugh when Hyunjin starts throwing random things in.

"We need some of this," he says, not even looking at the packet he picks up and throws into the basked. "Oh! This looks incredible."

You swat his hand away to stop him from picking up another useless packet of food.

"Stop being annoying, this is going to cost a fortune if you keep buying random shit."

"My treat," he says with a wink, picking up the thing you tried to stop him from buying.

"I'm not some incompetent loser who can't pay for her own things, you know," you say huffily.

"I know, you're very self sufficient. Girlboss. But I enjoy treating you to nice things, especially when you've been working so hard with your studying recently. So stop being a brat and let me," he says, moving into the next aisle.

"But you've already paid for the exhibit tickets -"

"Shush. I am not listening to you," is all he says, putting his hands over his ears before taking them off to pick up some drinks. "What's your favourite flavour of these?"

"Raspberry," you say sulkily.

"Excellent, me too."

"No it's not, yours is chocolate," you recall, knowing that he likes the chocolate flavour of the drinks he was showing you. You'd seen him drink it a million times.

"Shut up. I'm trying to be romantic," he says as he wiggles his eyebrows.

"Ew. Please refrain, I don't enjoy it," you say. "What's gotten into you today? That coffee has turned you eighteen again."

"I'm just happy, that's all," he replies, and it makes you kind of sad that you feel like he seems like his younger self just because he is happy.

You both walk up to the counter of the convenience store to pay for the mounds of food, and once Hyunjin has tapped his card you walk out and back towards his car.

"We're driving to have a picnic?" You ask when he opens the passenger door for you.

"Yup. It's in a super secret location," Hyunjin says with a wink.

So the two of you set off, you helping yourself to one of the snacks he bought as you stare out the window at the blue sky rolling beside you, wondering where on earth the boy was taking you next.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN HERE!

#stray kids #hwang hyunjin x you #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin #smut #stray kids fluff #felix lee #changbin #bang chan #lee know

59 notes · View notes

zandikslaboratory · 2 years

Text

SPOILER WARNING/IL DOTTORE LORE??

i hope this isnt too upsetting for anyone

warnings: kidnapping, cursing, degradation, dehumanization(how do i even spell that), s*xual hinting??, choking, blood, hitting/beating, hurt+comfort but in a messed up way

basically sadomasochism? maybe enemies to 'lovers'

i'm mentally unwell and writing this on my phone

_____________________________________________

il dottore x gn! reader pt. 1

(reader pov;)

'Surely someone had taken me in after the terrific events of last night at the tavern.' I thought to myself, before I lifted my heavy eyelids to the blurred sight of no other than The Doctor's laboratory, my clothes had been changed to something sterile, it was just a large off white t-shirt and boxershorts, which didn't belong to me.

I didn't know how exactly I got here, although i could already think of different possibilities of what might have happened after I got knocked out by a strange person at the tavern last night. Sweat dripped down my forehead, even though I was freezing in my current environment. Why did it have to be him who took me in? Was I injured that badly? I couldn't even get my thoughts anywhere logical before I heard the steel door of the lab open with a metallic creek.

"Well, well, look who's awake! Have you slept well? You were out for quite some time, dear. I hope I didn't frighten you yesterday, although I doubt you remember much.", spoke his eerily sweetened deep voice, closer to my ear than to my liking. His gloved, strong hand brushed over my tears stained cheek, sending a shiver down my spine. Only then I realized just exactly in which position I stood, sat, before The; sickly twisted; Doctor. My hands were tied behind me, a collar on my neck and it's attached chain suddenly felt heavier than the burden of my miserable life.

"Are you even listening, brat?", he questioned as he finally, swiftfully appeared infront of me with an annoyed frown on his face. "Ah, but then again, you're not really able to say much anyway, no?" Irony seemed to be his favored type of humor. I stared up at him, he should've been scarier looking than this, not with those perfectly sharp teeth I could only catch a glimpse of as he devilishly grinned down at me, and his stunning white-blue-ish uniform which accented his icy blue hair perfectly. I wish I could've seen his rumored-to-be-crimson eyes before he covered my own with his right hand, that had previously been occupied by playing around with his dangling earring, which, to me, almost looked like a syringe. I sucked in a small gasp, the feeling of his hand touching my face like this was leaving a burning sensation all over my skin. It even started hurting. Was there a wound over my eyes?

"That's going to take a while to heal, darling.. But don't worry! I have enough anesthetics to test on you, while you're here already!" I could hear the sick smirk in his tone, although it barely bothered me.

I should be terrified of the man kneeling infront of my weak body, and although I was scared, his touch seemed oddly comforting on my skin.

I opened my mouth, meaning to ask him what happened but all that came out was a broken whimper, barely forming a word that seemed to sound like a 'what' from my perspective.

"I was running low on test subjects, you see, but last night was quite a good chance to collect someone in all that chaos,", he spoke with a smile, "you just happened to be tumbling around with so much alcohol in your blood that even I thought you caught some alcohol poisoning. But look at you, alive and well!"

'Well' was quite the heavy understatement in this case, considering I barely had a voice.

I felt him gripping the chain of my collar, gesturing me to stand up as he pulled on it. Whilst I did try to stand up, my legs' weakened state barely lifted me off the cold ground. He however saw this as an opportunity to demonstrate his arms' strength as he lifted me up with ease.

#il dottore #dottore #x reader #dottore x reader #dottore x gender neutral reader #headcanon #genshin impact #sub reader

8 notes · View notes

vandroid-helsing · 1 year

Note

Well, to begin,give me your wackiest anecdote, it can be about whatever

man I WISH I was the sort of person that wacky stuff happened to.

the first thing that comes to mind is my first morning in London. all night flight, no layovers, slept miserably, touched down in a country fully eight hours ahead of my hometown, barely knew who I was, much less the day or time. (on the plus side, this meant I had very little jet lag because I was so tired I went to sleep as soon as it was dark. but I digress.)

after getting through customs (where I was asked "what's the purpose of your visit" and I froze and could only get out the word "pleasure", like I was on the world's most depressing sex tour), I stopped at the restroom to get all that American water out of my system. that done, I left the restroom and spent like twenty minutes wandering Heathrow looking for a way to get into the city itself. finally discovered the underground, took the Piccadilly-Cockfosters (snerk) line, got off at King's Cross, then spent another twenty minutes at least trying to find my hotel.

I know none of this sounds wacky but bear with me

at this point I had been in England since about three in the afternoon. I was carrying a gigantic backpack and a duffel bag. I had barely slept since three PM on a day that, from my point of view, was yesterday, but from the British clocks' POV, was only a few hours ago. despite having made it all the way from the airport to Kings Cross, I cannot claim to have been in a state of consciousness. the only thing I was really aware of was holy shit I'm in London dream come true!! and a persistent thunking against my leg.

because of the jet lag and the heavy luggage, I thought it must be a strap or something from my backpack. that's only when I remembered it was happening, which wasn't often. while in King's Cross, I stopped at a Starbucks and got a latte and a sandwich. (they offered to heat up the sandwich, which I shouldn't have agreed to, because it had lettuce on it.) I sat in the station and ate. this is all important, because I want to emphasize how many people at this point had seen me. airport, passengers on the tube, in the station, and then on the street as I attempted to find my hotel.

finally, after circling half the neighborhood, I saw the hotel across the street. as I started toward it, the thunking became more persistant. and I also became aware that it was jingling. but nothing I was carrying should have been jingling. that latte finally kicked in, giving me basic problem-solving skills and situational awareness.

and that is why someone in London certainly saw an American tourist pause, pick up a loose belt from around his shoes, where it had been slowly slipping ever since a Heathrow toilet, and resignedly rebuckle it around his waist.

not the wackiest thing a Londoner would have seen even that hour. but certainly one of the silliest things that's happened to me.

#asks

5 notes · View notes

disgruntled-detectives · 2 years

Text

I just had a sobbing meltdown. This weekend is supposed to be my bachelorette party. Not huge but something. And I had to cancel it. Because even if by some miracle I’m okay by then, J is now sick too. And I’m pretty sure it’s the flu. Not a cold. Fevers, body aches, headaches, coughing, sneezing, you name it. hell my skin hurt, even. I tested negative for Covid again today so that’s good at least. But yeah. No party. And on Sunday, I was supposed to see my mom for her bday. Not gonna happen. And we were supposed to visit friends for dinner that night. Not happening either. It just sucks. I still feel miserable. I just coughed so hard I pulled a back muscle. (My abs began killing me yesterday) I haven’t slept more than a few hours in a row these last 3 days because every time I try, the coughing wakes me up, despite the Mucinex DM I’m taking. I can barely talk. Breathing is hard cause I’m all wheezy, cause of all the gunk I still have. I legit sound like a sick pug. Normal sensations like the fan passing air over my arms have been too much and my brain is in constant sensory overload cause of everything being all clogged up and hurting.

Also I’ve been super lonely. J and I haven’t really seen much of each other. My coughing would disturb him so I’ve been sleeping downstairs. Plus I can sit in my chair if I can’t lie down cause of the coughing. I haven’t slept in our bed since Sunday. Which sucks. His working hours have been insane lately too. We spent about 20 mins on the couch together before he went to bed. (His energy is through the floor right now)

So fuck. Im sad about a party. But im also sad about a lot of other shit too. Send soup?

#personal #fuck being sick #I hate this #sick tw

6 notes · View notes

pbandjesse · 1 year

Text

Another night me and James have an activity! We are on our way home from Julien's concert at ottobar and it was excellent. I had a great time. I am glad we went. Event if I fell apart a little on the way there. I got overtired and got upset. But things are okay now. Soon we will be home and I can get some sleep.

Today was a very good day though. For like 99% of I was in a great mood. I did wake up pretty tired but I knew if I slept later then 930 I would be miserable. So I got up and I got dressed in cozy clothes.

I had popcorn for breakfast. Made Dr pepper with the soda stream. The new air we got is working great. And I worked on cleaning the apartment.

I spent an hour vacuuming and swiffering and spraying things down. I could have spent more time on the baseboards and stuff but that's alright. I got some of the fish off at least. I also had to empty the vacuum twice. No idea why it's so dusty in the apartment right now but whatever.

After that I would jump into embroidery. I got the next couple days done so I wouldn't feel rushed while I was busy with work. I am not as happy with the color pallet and will for sure need a brighter color for the next couple. To balance everything out.

I would work on my crochet. But before that I made a very excellent cake in our le cruset. And while it does take forever to cook a cake in it it does come out great every time. I was very pleased.

While that was baking I did one more row fory crochet squares blanket. A few of the squares are very short and look ridiculous. But hopefully I'll be able to fix it with the next row. It took a while though to get the whole thing together.

Once the cake came out of the oven I used the still warm oven to make freezer fries. Which were great. And then got in bed to keep whip stitching my crochet.

My allergies kicked off around this time. And I felt very bad. I kept telling st Sweetp to leave me alone but he didn't listen even when I pulled out the microphone mom got us. He just wanted to be all up on my face.

I wanted to sleep but I couldn't stop sneezing so that wasn't happening. James was soon home and would make us a pizza. I tried to rest but no actual sleep. But I was to tired to do anything so I just got really sad. And then I thought we were leaving at 7. So I was ready to go but then we werent leaving until closer to 8 so I was all thrown off. Which made me miserable to James.

But we would be okay. When we did finally leave we talked through my upset feelings. And when we got to ottobar we ran into some people we know and Katie and George and Anne and Tucker. And honestly it was a great show. The first act was lyricless but very trumpet heavy. The second act had a girl singer and it was a creamy and great.

And then Julien was up. His first headliner show?! And it sounded excellent. The philly show was fun but it was so loud o could barely understand anything. But this was really good and I really had fun.

At first we were standing and I did not like that. Once we found a table and chairs I was much more comfortable. Cody, the Cody from camp, joined us at the table. And I had a great view. Though I spent a lot of the show scrolling on Tumblr. This was not because I wasn't enjoying it. I just really struggle to focus. Which is why I had the crochet with me yesterday. But I had an excellent time.

We stayed to the last song and the encore. Which was soft snd lovely. And then we were out.

We just arrived home. And I am going to take a shower. I am going to quickly wash my hair but who knows if I'll dry it all the way. I just know I will be really unhappy tomorrow if I don't wash it tonight.

Tomorrow I have my next cymzia shots. My belly has been super itchy since then so I'm going to ask if that is a side effect I should report. And besides groceries there isn't a ton for me to do. Which is very nice. I hope I feel good tomorrow. I hope you do as well.

Goodnight everyone. Take care of yourself!

3 notes · View notes

neonlights92 · 3 years

Text

Night Changes: PART TWO

Jeon Jungkook has spent the last twenty years alone. Single. Solo.

And that’s just the way he likes it. That is, until he meets the supposed love of his life. Suddenly he’s falling over himself at the chance of a real relationship with someone.

The only thing getting in his way? You.

genre: fuckboy!jungkookie, college!jungkookie, romcom, e2l (kinda)

AN: I am so fuckin soft for college Kook you wouldn’t even belieeeeeve

Within days of their ‘truce’, Jungkook realises what a huge dickhead he truly is for not remembering Y/N’s name.

She shares his timetable almost entirely.

“I’m the worst.” He bemoans after a particularly stressful lecture on American poetry, “You weren’t kidding when you said you were in all my classes.”

“Almost all your classes.” She laughs a little at the look on his face and shrugs, “I did tell you.”

“It makes perfect sense now why you hate me.”

Y/N nudges him playfully and shakes her head, “I don’t hate you.” “Yes you do.” He sniffles dramatically, “And you should. I’m an asshole.”

She pulls a face, “Now what am I meant to do here? Tell you that you’re not an asshole? That would be lying.” Jungkook reaches for his heart theatrically and frowns.

“I deserve that.”

She scoffs playfully, “Shut up, Jungkook.”

It’s been exactly four days since Jungkook and Y/N began to hatch their plan to try and get their respective soulmates to fall in love with them.

And though Y/N’s original idea was to host some kind of movie night at her apartment Jungkook has been slowly persuading her into throwing a full blown party. Park Jimin is an absolute animal, Jungkook promises her (that’s a huge stretch, but what college student doesn’t like alcohol and loud music?) and throwing a party is a surefire way to get him to agree to coming.

But Y/N isn’t so easily swayed.

“I’m going to make it up to you,” Jungkook tells her confidently, “I’m going to make sure that you and Jimin get together, and then when you have beautiful babies together you’ll be thanking me. And we’ll forget all about the incredibly unfortunate way we met each other.” Y/N’s smile is soft, but Jungkook sees it.

“I know you will,” She says, “I have faith in your matchmaking abilities, Jeon Jungkook.”

“Which reminds me….Did you think about what I said, Y/N?”

Jungkook has to admit - he really likes having her around. Try as he might at first to have seen the worst in her, he has to admit Y/N’s not half bad.

“About the party?”

He winks, “Bingo!”

“It’s a bad idea.”

“Oh my god-”

“No, because I’m such a wallflower,” She insists, shaking her head firmly, “Jimin will just think I’m boring.”

“I’ll help you come out of your shell. I’ve told you that already. It will be like a life lesson for you - a chance to shine in the spotlight.”

“I don’t shine,” Y/N is whining now, “It’s stupid to even try.”

“No it’s not,” Jungkook insists, “Everybody shines. In their own way. Everybody.” He feels kind of awful for her.

How can she even think that way about herself?

“You don’t - it’s not. C’mon Jungkook I can’t-”

“What about the night we met?” Jungkook interrupts, as the two round the corner of Jungkook’s street, “You were partying then, weren’t you? You were shining then?” She flushes, “That’s different.”

“How?” She shuts her eyes for a moment. Jungkook worries he might have pushed her too far. He slips his bottom lip between his teeth and just as he opens his mouth to apologise she sighs heavily.

“It’s stupid.”

He brushes a hand over her shoulder, “It’s not.”

Her eyes open and he’s taken aback by the softness there.

He wants to reach out and maybe pat her cheek but he decides against it. Fuckboy or not, Jungkook is not the kind of guy to do that. Is he? No. He isn’t.

Besides. Soomi.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll throw the damn party. But you’re helping me with everything, okay?”

Jungkook feels something like electricity shoot up his ass. (He won’t ever tell anyone else he thought that.)

“Yes! This is going to be perfect Y/N I swear. Jimin will love it. So will you,” He grins like he’s hit the jackpot, “It’s the last day of semester in three weeks time. We’ll use that as a reason okay? And we’ll plan everything together. It will be amazing.” Y/N’s eyes dart across Jungkook’s face nervously.

She seems to be looking for something - what he’s not sure - but after a moment she nods.

“Fine. Okay. End of semester,” Her lips fall into a small smile, “Do you think this will work?”

They stop at the entrance of Jungkook’s building.

“It’s perfect Y/N. I swear. Just perfect.”

When her smile widens Jungkook thinks he’s never seen her look better.

“I’m trusting you Jungkook.” She narrows her eyes playfully, “Don’t fuck it up.”

He crosses his index finger across his chest and nods determinedly.

“Trust me, Y/N. We’ll have Park Jimin eating out of your hand before you know it.”

And he really believes it, too.

The next day Jungkook runs into Y/N at lunchtime. He hasn’t seen her in any of his classes today and when he texts her to tell her this, she reminds him that Friday is the only day they don’t share a timetable.

He has to admit he’s kind of bummed.

So when he finds himself wandering into the campus garden with Hoseok trailing less than enthusiastically behind him, his eyes zero in on her immediately.

She’s eating some kind of burrito - probably extra spicy as she’s told him that’s the only way to eat Mexican food - and reading a book. Of course she’s reading a book.

Nerd.

“Hey Hobi let’s go sit over there.” He points her out to his friend and Hoseok raises a brow.

“Who’s that?” “Y/N.”

“Y/N?” His brow raises even higher if possible, “Y/N as in the girl you slept with who’s name you can’t remember and who’s roommate you are in love with? And who you’ve promised to help set up with Park Jimin? That Y/N.” Jungkook frowns, “Well when you say it like that…” He rolls his eyes, “Shut up. Let’s just go.” Hoseok shrugs and follows his friend - what good will it do him to argue anyway? - and when Jungkook reaches his destination he clears his throat noisily. Y/N looks up and Jungkook notices she’s wearing a pair of thick-framed glasses. He has to admit… She looks kind of adorable in them.

The moment recognition dawns on her face, Y/N’s lips lift.

“Hi.” Jungkook’s smile widens when she grins up at him.

“Hi.” She shifts slightly, “What are you uh - doing here?” “Stalking you obviously,” Jungkook takes a seat beside her on the blanket she’s set up to eat on, and gestures for Hoseok to do the same, “This is my friend Hoseok. The one I said dances with your boyfriend.” She wrinkles her nose and flushes, “Jungkook! He’s not my boyfriend.” She turns to Hoseok and smiles softly, “Hi.”

Hoseok - to his credit - doesn’t seem to mind the Jimin comment. He smiles back at her.

“Hi Y/N.”

Jungkook unwraps the dismal lunch he’s made himself - a sweetcorn and tuna salad - and gestures to the book sitting in Y/N’s lap.

“What’s that?”

She looks down and then up, “Oh. It’s uh - god. It’s stupid.” Jungkook quirks a brow, “C’mon tell me. What is it.” She hesitates for a second and then rolls her eyes, seemingly accepting her fate.

Jungkook almost wants to remind her that they’re friends - she shouldn’t be embarrassed in front of him - but he stays quiet.

She lifts the book to show him the cover.

“It’s a book on gaining confidence.” Her shoulders shrug, “I thought it might help. Y’know… With the whole…” Her eyes flit over to Hoseok briefly, “Jimin thing.”

Hoseok chuckles and it catches Jungkook off guard.

He’d almost forgotten his friend was there.

“That’s adorable,” Hoseok comments, “Man if a girl did that for me I’d be beyond flattered.” Y/N’s cheeks flush and she shakes her head, “No - I mean. I don’t know. It’s not just for him…”

“Still.” She bites her bottom lip and shrugs, “I mean I guess. Yeah. He should be flattered.” Hoseok laughs again and Jungkook has a sneaking suspicion his friend might be flirting.

He doesn’t like that.

Y/N is not for Hoseok. Not at all.

“Well she’s not reading the book for you,” Jungkook tells him, trying to control his anger, “She’s reading it for Jimin.” Hoseok raises a brow. He takes a moment and then smiles again.

“I gathered.”

Jungkook spends the rest of the lunch break trying to stop whatever weird energy Hoseok and Y/N have going on.

There is absolutely no way in hell that Jung Hoseok thinks he can just swoop in and ruin all his plans, right? Y/N needs to fall in love with Jimin. Park Jimin needs to be the one laughing with her and smiling at her and flirting with her.

He’s absolutely livid by the time Y/N scurries off to class.

“What the fuck was that?” Hoseok pulls a face, “What?”

“That. That… Flirting. What was that?” Jungkook has barely even touched his lunch (and it’s got nothing to do with the absolute miserable state of it, he swears.)

Hoseok seems confused for only a moment later. Then his face opens up.

“Oh, right.” He shakes his head, “I wasn’t flirting, Jungkook.” Jungkook hates the look on his friend’s face. Like he knows something Jungkook doesn’t.

“What’s that look for Hoseok?” Hobi chuckles and shakes his head, “Nothing Jungkook. Absolutely nothing.” Jungkook spends the rest of the day thinking about that godforsaken look.

Jungkook wakes up the next morning (which thank god happens to be a Saturday,) to a text message from Y/N. He’s been trying to convince her to use more emojis - but she refuses.

Secretly, he finds her texting kind of cute.

But he’ll never tell her that.

Y/N: Are you free today?

Jungkook: as a bird. what did you have in mind?? :)

Y/N: It’s my birthday. Soomi is taking me out bowling. Wanna come?

Jungkook feels his heart swim all the way up to his throat.

Soomi? And wait what - it’s Y/N’s birthday? He’s sort of offended she only brought it up now.

Jungkook: uhhh… what?? happy fuckin birthday y/n!!! ur naughty!!! birthday ??? why didnt you tell me yesterday???

Y/N: You’re an English Lit student. Use proper vocabulary and grammar please. And I don’t know I didn’t think it was a big deal.

Jungkook: u cant change me boo… u just text like a granny. its your birthday stupid ofc its a big deal. mind if i invite some of my friends??

It’s a few minutes before Y/N finally replies.

Y/N: Yeah. Sure. Meet us at Blue Pins in an hour?

Jungkook: c u there… birthday girl!!!!!

Y/N: Ugh.

Jungkook smiles at the way she still acts like she hates him even though he knows she doesn’t really.

It really is the start of a beautiful friendship.

An hour later Jungkook finds himself sat in a booth with Hoseok, Taehyung and Namjoon, nervously tapping his fingers against the surface of the table.

Hoseok clicks his tongue loudly and grabs his friend's hand from across the booth. His eyes are narrowed a little.

“Will you calm down?” “Are you kidding?” Jungkook’s eyes are as wide as a pair of saucers, “I’m about to meet the woman I’m going to marry.”

Hoseok scoffs at that and Taehyung scrolls through his phone, bored as always.

After a moment, Taehyung clears his throat, “He said yes.”

Jungkook feels like his heart has just fallen out of his asshole.

“What?”

“Jimin said yes,” Taehyung rolls his eyes, almost as if he’s annoyed at this spectacular outcome, “He’ll come to Y/N’s party at the end of the semester..”

“Oh fuck YES!” Jungkook fist pumps the air in joy as Hoseok chuckles in delight.

“You’re overreacting,” Namjoon tells his friend seriously, “Jimin coming does not equal Jimin falling in love with Y/N.”

“It gets me one step closer though,” Jungkook feels lighter already, “And one step closer to that means one step closer to Soomi falling in love with me.”

Namjoon snorts out a laugh, “Stop it.”

“What?” Jungkook takes a swig from the cappuccino he insisted on ordering as soon as they arrived, “It’s true.”

“You’re not seriously thinking you’re in love with this girl Jungkook?” Hoseok’s eyes dance with mirth, “I know you man.”

“What do you mean?”

Hoseok raises a dubious brow, “You’re the ultimate fuckboy.”

“I am not.”

“Yes. You are.” Taehyung tacks on helpfully, “Notoriously so, actually.”

“Shut up.”

Jungkook doesn’t want to admit it but he knows his friends are kind of right. Sue him - he’s young and handsome and he’s in college. Everybody fucks around in college.

“And anyway I don’t actively pursue girls unless I have the intention of taking it somewhere.” Jungkook crosses his arms, “A fuckboy I may be, but a dickhead I am not.”

“Says the guy who forgot Y/N’s name after a vigorous night of lovemaking.” Namjoon grins like the cat who got the cream and Jungkook wants to smack him.

“You can thank your dear friend Kim Taehyung for that.” Jungkook replies sharply, narrowing his eyes at his so-called childhood best friend.

Taehyung gasps like he can’t believe what Jungkook’s just said.

“Seven tequilas on an empty stomach is never a good idea Tae,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, “You kept insisting.”

Taehyung answers with a flippant wave of his hand, eyes finally moving away from his phone, “Whatever. You’re an adult, right? You could’ve said no.”

“Not when free alcohol is involved.” “Anyway Kookie, the point is you can’t be in love.” Hoseok leans back like he’s just discovered the meaning to life. Always so smug.

Jungkook can’t help but find it a little annoying.

“And how, oh wise one, are you coming to this conclusion?” Jungkook’s tone is dripping with sarcasm. He raises a brow at his friend and gives him the most pointed look he can manage.

It’s still Hoseok and Jungkook has to admit he respects his opinion the most.

“Because you’re you. And you barely know this girl.” Hoseok rolls his eyes, “That’s how.”

“I find that offensive,” Jungkook retorts, “People are allowed to change and grow. Now I’ve met Soomi I’m different.”

Namjoon shakes his head, “There’s no point, Hobi. We all tried, believe me. But he’s decided that he’s in love with her. Just get on board with it.”

Jungkook sends Hoseok a toothy grin once he swallows the last of the cappuccino and nods emphatically.

He knows what his friends think of him.

That he’s slutty and careless. That commitment scares the shit out of him. That he’s incapable of monogamy. A combination of all of the above.

But Jungkook knows the truth. He didn’t want a girlfriend before this because he hadn’t met someone that made sense to him.

And what’s the point of being with someone unless you’re all in?

“Anyway when you’re guests at our wedding it’ll all make sense,” Jungkook pushes his empty coffee cup to the side, “We’re meant to be.”

Taehyung laughs at this - despite himself - and Hoseok and Namjoon chuckle too.

“Jungkook?” The sound of someone calling his name causes him to turn quickly, eyes widening when he sees who it is. Y/N. She’s smiling at him of course - but that’s not what causes Jungkook to almost go into cardiac arrest.

No. Of course not.

It’s the beautiful angel standing beside Y/N that causes him to almost forget how to breathe.

“Hi,” He squeezes out despite himself, eyes riveted to Soomi’s beautiful face, “Hi.”

Soomi smiles and Jungkook is immediately breathless.

“Jungkook right? Y/N’s… Friend.” The suggestive tone annoys Jungkook - he can’t have Soomi thinking he belongs to anyone else but her - and he nods.

“Yeah.” “But just a friend now,” Y/N pipes up helpfully, “We… Uh… Worked through our differences. And now we’re friends. Just friends. Totally platonic.” Jungkook thinks she’s kind of overkilling the whole thing but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he smiles at Soomi and watches as her face puts two and two together.

Yes. Yes.

Jungkook wants her - no he needs her to know that he’s single.

Really single.

Totally single and available and hers.

Namjoon clears his throat somewhere from Jungkook’s left. He turns to his friends and nods quickly.

“Right. Yes of course. My friends - these are my friends. Taehyung and Namjoon, and Y/N you’ve already met Hoseok.” The two share a small wave. Jungkook ignores the stab of annoyance that sends to his gut.

“Hi,” Soomi smiles in a way Jungkook is sure is almost too heavenly to be real, “I’m Soomi.” God. He really is a goner.

Jungkook doesn’t want to brag, but he is pretty good at bowling.

Okay. Who’s he kidding?

He totally wants to brag.

The moment Y/N splits them up into two teams - Soomi, Jungkook and her versus Namjoon, Hoseok and Taehyung - he’s determined to win.

He has to win.

He has to show Soomi one of his many, many, many talents.

“You’re pretty good at this,” Soomi remarks as he throws his first strike, “Or is that just beginner’s luck?”

Jungkook shakes his head and shrugs, “I’d say I’m pretty good.”

Her giggle is music to his ears.

“That’s impressive. What kind of girl doesn’t want a man who can throw a strike?”

Jungkook smirks, “That’s what I always say.” Her eyes crinkle at the side when she smiles and though it's not quite as adorable as Y/N’s - he’ll never admit this out loud - she still looks so sweet his heart constricts almost painfully in his chest. He forgets for a moment where he is, laying on the charm thick.

“Is that how you seduce poor unsuspecting women then? With your bowling skills?”

He winks in that way that usually works and his smirk widens, “You know it!”

Soomi giggles again and Jungkook is surprised at how smoothly this all seems to be going - when the sound of somebody throwing a gutter grabs his attention.

His eyes lift - thinking it has to be the other team - and he furrows his brow when he sees Y/N standing at the very top of the bowling lane, staring at the full set of pins in front of her.

Holy shit.

Jungkook momentarily forgets about Soomi - his competitive nature kicked into overdrive - as he shoots up from his seat and rushes towards Y/N.

“Oh my god,” He’s right beside her in an instant, “Was that you?”

Y/N looks up at him - cheeks flushed - and nods, “Yeah. I’m terrible at bowling.”

“So why would you choose to come here? On your birthday?”

Jungkook is somewhere between disbelief and pure horror. But he has to admit, the look on her face is sort of funny. She’s mortified.

“Soomi suggested it. She said it might be fun,” She looks away for a moment, “For her maybe.”

The sound of someone scoring a strike blares to Jungkook’s left and when he sees Taehyung performing some kind of ridiculous victory dance, he decides enough is enough.

“No. No.” Jungkook sets his jaw, “I’m going to help you.”

Y/N’s brow lifts, “What?” “I’m going to help you. You’re going to score a strike.”

She snorts out a laugh.

“I don’t think you realise how truly terrible I am at this.”

“And I don’t think you realise how truly competitive I am,” He gestures to the balls, “Grab the lime green. That’s the lightest.”

Y/N watches him for a moment longer. She looks behind him and moves her hand in the general direction of Soomi.

“What about Soomi?” He flares his nostrils, “She’ll still be there after I finish helping you.”

Y/N stares at him, and when Jungkook cocks his head towards the row of balls lining the back of the bowling alley, she shrugs and follows his command.

Jungkook takes this as a moment to teach Y/N how to shine.

After all, what better way to fell good about yourself than being good at something you always thought you sucked at?

When Y/N comes back with the lime green ball, he grabs her free arm and positions her to stand with her back to his chest, wordlessly.

“Woah.” Y/N breathes, “What are you doing?”

Jungkook’s mouth is right beside her ear, “Just follow me okay? I’m helping you, I swear.”

He slides his hand down to the ball and grips her fingers carefully.

“Don’t hold too much tension in your wrist,” He tells her sternly, “You’re too tense. You’re always too tense. Relax.” Something strange passes between them. Y/N takes a long, deep breath, and Jungkook tries to concentrate on the task at hand.

“Now slowly, slowly, bring the ball back,” Y/N follows Jungkook’s movements, “And… Release.”

He helps her flick it onto the lane, and they watch in suspense as the ball spins towards the pins. There is almost a moment where everything is suspended in time - before the ball crashes with the pins and nine of them fall down.

Y/N squeals in happiness and turns around sharply, throwing her arm around Jungkook’s neck and pressing herself against him in a hug.

“Thank you Jungkook!” She is smiling so widely, his heart turns, “You’re the best.”

“You’re welcome.” Jungkook finds he’s grinning too, “You deserve it. Happy birthday Y/N.” He pushes some hair out of her face - practical purposes of course, it was getting in her eyes - and she seems to catch her breath at the gesture. They stare at each other for a moment, before someone clears their throat from behind them and they break apart. Soomi is standing between them, holding a bubble gum pink bowling ball.

Jungkook wonders almost flippantly if she only picked it up for it’s colour.

“It’s my turn, right?” She turns her smile on Jungkook and he melts.

God.

She’s beautiful.

“Right.” Jungkook smiles back, “Your turn.”

When he turns to move back to their booth he notices Y/N watching their interaction carefully. Her eyes flit away the moment she’s caught, but Jungkook knows what he saw.

Strange.

Very strange indeed.

Later on that evening, after they’ve all shared a pizza, and Jungkook has spent the rest of the night watching Soomi with hearts in his eyes, Hoseok clears his throat with purpose.

They’re sat in their living room - Hoseok has decided to crash over because, why not? - and playing a midnight mario kart match, when Jungkook’s friend seems to have something to say.

Jungkook pauses the game. He turns to Hoseok.

“Yes?” There is a brief moment of silence. Taehyung is forever scrolling through his phone, and Namjoon has long ago gone to bed. Hoseok clicks his tongue.

“Are you sure you like Soomi?”

The question completely throws Jungkook off.

He raises a questioning brow, “What?”

“I’m just - asking. I’m just…” Hoseok turns to Taehyung for support. When his friend doesn’t notice, he smacks him across the shoulder, “Tae.”

“What?”

Jungkook narrows his eyes, “Have you guys talked about this?” Taehyung seems to realise where the conversation has just come from. He actually locks his phone and sets it to one side.

“Yeah.” Taehyung answers honestly, “We have.” “I’ve told you guys a million times. I know I barely know her but -” “That’s not it.” Hoseok licks his bottom lip, “I mean it’s crazy you think you fell in love at first sight but… Stranger things have happened.” Jungkook scoffs, “So? Why have you asked then?” Another beat.

Taehyung sighed heavily, “Because we think you like Y/N.”

“What the fuck?” Jungkook snorts out a laugh because really - what else can he do?, “Why the fuck would you think that?” His friends share another look and Jungkook hates that.

He hates that they think they know him better than he knows himself.

Hoseok shakes his head, “Just a feeling.” “A feeling that’s wrong.” Jungkook states firmly, “Dead wrong.” Taehyung nods and picks up his phone, “Fine. Alright. We’re wrong then.” Hoseok seems like he wants to say more but he doesn’t opting instead for something that sounds sort of like a grunt.

Jungkook watches his friends for a moment longer.

“Yeah. So wrong.”

That night, when Jungkook’s just about to go to bed he receives a text message. He opens his phone, expecting Y/N and finding, instead, an unrecognised number staring back at him.

Soomi: hiiiii jungkook :) it's soomi… y/n gave me ur number. hope u dont mind.

Jungkook pushes his friends’s ridiculous theory to the back of his head, and focuses instead on the fact that Soomi has just texted him. His thumbs move to answer her but he pauses, moving instead to open Y/N’s chat history.

Jungkook: hey. happy bday again champ. u da bomb!! also thanks for giving soomi my number. u a real one for that, chief!!! :) :) :)

Y/N’s reply comes only a few minutes later.

Y/N: Thank you Jungkook. I appreciate it. And no worries… She seemed to really be into you after tonight. So well done, yeah? :)

Jungkook smiles at the emoji that he imagines Y/N forced herself to add, and almost misses the part when she says Soomi was into him.

Right. Yeah. Perfect.

He opens up Soomi’s chat and starts to write out a reply.

This is exactly what he wanted.

TAGLIST: @cuddleboo @veronawrites @minluvly @severetimetravelnerd @moonchild1 @bunnyjeonjk @multicolourunicorn @somewhereinthestarss @jwlmnbt @jojo-suga @zera10 @ggukkieland @thesugatoyourtae @dxlbts @wxndi

#bts #college!jungkook #fuckboy!jungkook #fanfic #fanfiction #bangtan #jeon jungkook #smut #angst #romcom #imagine

659 notes · View notes

andvys · 3 years

Text

Fine line part two

warnings: angst, slow burn

pairing: Ellie Williams x reader (eventually)

author’s note: hi! I'm sorry if the first few chapters are gonna seem a little boring, I promise it’s gonna get a whole lot better!

The next day you woke up feeling even more tired and exhausted than the day before and for some reason your back felt really sore, you could probably blame it on the sofa.

After you came home yesterday you went straight into the bedroom, packed your backpack and prepared yourself for the upcoming trip. You couldn't wait to get out of Jackson after finding your boyfriend, well, ex boyfriend cheating on you.

You felt nothing but hate and disgust for that man and for some reason it wasn't even hard to hate him.

Instead of sleeping in your bed you decided to sleep on the sofa in the living room, you sure as hell wouldn't sleep in the same bed where he probably cheated on you.

It was 6 am now and Ethan wasn't home yet, you knew his shift ended at 5 am. He was supposed to be home a long time ago, you didn't need to think hard enough to know where he was right now. ‘At least I won't have to see him right now.’ you thought to yourself.

You felt stupid for not realizing that he was cheating on you earlier. The signs have been there for a while now but you ignored them. He always came late or he had to take double shifts, his behavior was off and he couldn't even look you in the eye.

To be fair you had to take double shifts as well after the herd attacked, so you didn't even think anything of it but still the way he behaved around you was enough to know that there was something going on.

What annoyed you was that you had to find out through Ellie. Out of all people it had to be her, she was probably celebrating your miserableness right now and now you had to spend weeks alone with her, she would probably make it a living hell.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you put your shoes on, grabbed your backpack and left your house.

When you arrived at the gates, Ellie was already there, along with Joel, Maria and Tommy, it looked like Joel was showing her something on the map.

“good morning.” you smiled at them, ignoring Ellie’s gaze on you.

“good morning y/n.” they greeted you.

“did you get a good night’s sleep kid?” Joel asked.

“yeah.” you lied, you barely slept last night, your mind was racing, you were mad at Ethan and you were anxious about the trip.

“that’s good, it’s probably the last time you got to sleep well for a while now.” Maria said.

It was true, you knew you wouldn't sleep well out there, even when someone was with you.

“that’s true.”

“alright, well you should go now. We explained everything to Ellie, already, she’s gonna fill you in.” Maria told you.

Great, more conversations with the girl that hates you.

“you take care of each other out there alright?” Joel said, looking at both you and Ellie.

Ellie nodded her head.

“of course.” you told him, smiling at him. You knew he was worried about Ellie, you remember how worried he was when Ellie just started going on patrols.

He hugged Ellie tightly before hugging you as well.

You liked Joel, he was one of the people in Jackson, who was never pushy about anything or who asked too many questions, if anything he was the one who made you feel most comfortable here.

“good luck out there.” Tommy said, smiling at you.

“thank you, see you soon.” you told them before looking at Ellie, who was watching you intently.

They said their goodbyes before leaving but not before Joel hugged Ellie one last time, making you smile to yourself. It was sweet to see the older man this way.

“let’s go.” you said once they left.

Just when you were about to walk through the gates, you heard your name being called causing you to halt in your steps.

Anger rushed through you when you heard his voice, you clenched your jaw and curled your hand up into a fist.

“y/n wait!”

Ellie glanced at you as you turned around.

He stopped in front of you, “hey babe, leaving witho-

You interrupted him with a punch to his face.

He cried out in pain and surprise as his nose made a loud cracking noise, his hand came up to his face, clutching his nose in pain.

Ellie looked at you in surprise, she didn’t expect this kind of a reaction from you but she was impressed. He deserved to be punched a long time ago.

You heard someone gasp, looking over his shoulder, you found a few people staring at you in shock.

You were lucky Maria already left or you’d get some real scolding right now.

“what the fuck y/n?!” he exclaimed “what is wrong with you?”

“what is wrong with me?” you chuckled “fuck you, we’re over, go back to your bitch.” you told him angrily.

He looked at you in shook, his eyes widened and he tried to say something but no words came out.

You glared at him before turning around to leave.

Ellie stood back for a second, impressed about you punching him. Looking at Ethan, she smirked at him before turning around to follow you.

Seeing you being so violant towards the guy that she hated so much made you seem a little bit more likable now.

“that was a good punch.” you heard Ellie say after a while.

You were walking for hours now, you were sure it was afternoon already.

You were surprised to hear her say something, so far there wasn't much conversation between you, you only talked about the trip and what Joel told her.

Looking over at her, you noticed that she was looking at you.

You almost had to laugh at the look on her face, it seemed to be really hard for her to give you a compliment, if that could even count as one.

“thanks?” you said, furrowing your brows.

She nodded before looking away again.

“can I ask you something?” you asked.

“sure.” she mumbled, sounding annoyed.

"why did you tell me.. or- why did you tell me to go look?” you asked, talking about last night.

She frowned at your question and looked at you.

“why wouldn't I?” she asked

You snorted “well, you hate me.” you pointed out, looking at her “so.. you could’ve just ignored that and let me find out differently.”

“I hate Ethan more though, seeing him miserable is kind of nice plus seeing him getting punched was kinda worth it.” she shrugged.

You chuckled “why do you hate him so much?” you asked, you were genuinely curious about her answer.

A weird expression appeared on her face, it was a mixture between hatred, anger and something else that you couldn't make out.

“He’s a dick.” she pointed out “and he's good for nothing, I mean, he can’t even fight or use a gun properly.” she scoffed, shaking her head.

You couldn't help but chuckle. It was kind of true, he really was bad with guns and fighting wasn't his thing either.

“alright..” you mumbled, as you looked at her once more before going back to looking out for infected.

You were walking through a wooded area when you came across a small cabin.

Ellie looked at her map, realizing that it’s the cabin Joel marked on the map.

“we should rest in there, Joel said it’s safe.” Ellie told you.

“alright.”

It was getting dark and cold outside, it was about time to fine a place to set up camp in. Being outside at this time wasn't safe.

This was the moment you dreaded the most, you hated going to sleep whenever you were outside of Jackson. It didn't matter if you were alone or with someone, you never felt safe outside, to sleep.

Ellie grabbed the keys out of her backpack Joel gave her and opened the door.

Walking inside you turned your flashlight on, since it was too dark in the cabin to see anything, you shut the door and locked it with the keys Ellie gave you after she unlocked the door.

“hold on.” Ellie said as she found a fireplace in the middle of the room.

There was enough wood laying there to start a fire, Ellie took care of it while you walked around the cabin, making sure that this place was actually safe, the door was locked and there were no broken windows so there was no way that it wasn't safe but still, you could never know.

Once you made sure everything was safe you went back to where Ellie was, who was sitting on the sofa, looking at the map again.

The room was light now and you could see more, it was cozy but it was small, so there wasn't much space to get away from Ellie.

You pulled your backpack off and put it on the floor, you looked around the room before sitting down on the chair by the table in the kitchen area.

Looking at Ellie, you noticed she had a frown on her face, well, it looked like a frown, she was just really concentrated.

Her being distracted gave you the chance to watch her, you always thought she was beautiful, those green eyes of hers made you feel weird whenever she would look at you.

It was probably because you knew how much she hated you.

You had to admit, Ellie was the prettiest girl you have ever seen in your life but she was probably the most infuriating person you have met and you couldn't help but hate her at times, especially when she was being a complete asshole to you.

You tried to befriend her at first but she just kept being in asshole to you so you stopped trying, knowing that you were never gonna be friends with the girl.

It got even worse when you started dating Ethan, if she was mean before then she definitely became even worse after that.

You knew they hated each other but you never found out why. You never noticed them glaring at each other or making mean comments before you and Ethan started dating, it happened shortly after you got together, so you had no idea what that was about.

“what?!” Ellie asked, snapping out of your thoughts you realized you were staring at her and she just catched you.

You blushed before looking away, you hated it whenever someone would find you staring at them, it made you feel like a creep.

“nothing.” you mumbled.

“sure.” she scoffed before grabbing her backpack and getting up to walk towards the kitchen area where you were sitting.

She sat down on the chair opposite of you and pulled some food out of her backpack.

‘Jerky of course’ you thought to yourself. Dina told you about how Ellie would steal jerky all the time, when she just came to Jackson, fearing that they'd run out of food.

It was kinda cute, imagining her teenage self stuffing her pockets with bags of jerky. Shaking your head. Ellie was not cute.

“eat something.” she said.

“I'm not hungry.” you mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest, you leaned back in your chair and watched her as she looked at you with a stern expression on her face.

Seeing Ethan cheat on you made you feel sick.

Deep down you knew it didn't hurt you the way it was supposed to hurt you, you just felt disgusted by him.

You knew you didn't give him what he wanted from you, you were dating for a while and you avoided his touch all the time, you didn't know why but you always felt gross whenever he would touch you.

Not sleeping with him didn't give him an excuse to cheat on you though, he could've just left you, if he wasn't happy.

You didn't even know why you didn't leave him sooner, you didn't even love him, you never did.

You didn't know why you started dating him in the first place.

“you okay?” Ellie asked, noticing the frown on your face.

“yeah.” you mumbled, getting up from the chair you looked at Ellie who was watching you already “there’s a bedroom, you can sleep there, I'll take the couch.” you told her, not giving her a chance to say anything before you walked over to the couch and sat down, taking your shoes off before you laid back against the soft cushion, you looked at the ceiling and tried to think of something that would distract you from your disgusting ex boyfriend.

Ellie looked back at you, she sighed in annoyance before getting up to go into the bedroom.

She turned on the flash light and looked around the room. The bed was big enough for two but there was no way that she would share the bed with you.

She put her backpack on the floor by the door and looked at the two blankets on the bed, she knew there were none on the couch and you would probably freeze at night.

She thought about it for a second before shaking her head, ‘you were in the bedroom before, you knew there were blankets, you would've taken one if you needed it.’ she thought to herself.

She took her shoes off and laid down on the bed, covering herself with one of the blankets. Thinking about today, she realized it wasn't bad for a first day, you weren't bitchy or annoying but she was sure it was yet to come.

Unable to fall asleep she looked at the ceiling before looking down at the other blanket. ‘y/n must be freezing right now.’ she thought to herself.

She didn't like you but she still felt bad to know that you were sleeping on the couch without a blanket or a pillow while she got to have the whole bed for herself.

She rolled her eyes before throwing the blanket off her, sitting up she grabbed the other blanket and went back to you.

“hey I hav-” she started before realizing that you were sleeping already.

She walked over to you and checked if you were actually sleeping before covering you with the blanket.

She looked down at you, you looked so peaceful right now, it was rare to see you this way. You were always stressed and Ellie was sure she has never seen you without a frown on your face.

She hated to admit it but you looked beautiful this way, you looked beautiful either way, even with that frown on your face.

Shaking her head, she frowned at her thoughts before turning around to walk back into the bedroom.

She knew this trip would change your relationship, she just hoped you wouldn't hate each other even more after that.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams #tlou ellie #tlou imagines #tlou angst

250 notes · View notes

youryanderedaddy · 3 years

Note

Imagine a yandere ghost who is cursed is trapped in the doll, so one day a family came to live in his house, but what the ghost did not expect is to fall in love with the couple's eldest daughter. Maybe this yandere ghost (doll) use the younger brother to get closer to his beloved...

I didn't really include the doll, but the overall idea is here ;)

Tw: nsfw, non - con, underage sex? (The reader is meant to be around 18, her brother is 16 - 17, but the ghost is 100+ so idk), (technically) incest, ghosts, possession, possessive/obsessive behavior, slight parental neglect ig

You knew it was a mistake moving into the old house up the hill. You tried arguing with your parents so many times about the mansion being hidden in the woods, so far away from any civilization, bringing up the fact it hadn't been bought for the last 8 years despite the insanely low price or the news about the previous owners dying in their sleep just like that, from "natural causes" even though they were an young energetic couple. But of course your worries had been discarded so easily since your younger siblings were ecstatic, constantly talking about finally living in a castle, which was obviously pushing it too far, but kids will be kids.

Your family was big, consisting of your mother, father, two younger sisters and a brother currently in his late teens. Your siblings managed to take all the nice bright rooms on the second floor so you were forced to sleep in the attic. At first it didn't seem so bad, yes, the place was dark and dusty, the space was limited, but it was a quiet spot and there were many interesting things left there to explore and discover.

The first week you discovered a huge box full of old books, medals, notebooks and different souvenirs from all over the world. The second week you found a few paintings covered by a thin disheveled cloak, most of them depicting a pretty young boy with golden locks and sad green eyes, dresses in an expensive silky clothing resembling what was nowadays considered an elegant suit. You didn't pay it much mind yet the miserable longing gaze of the kid haunted your dreams in the following days.

During the third week you noticed that things were going missing one by one. First it was your favorite lipstick, then your new dress, and suddenly your favorite items were gone just like that. On top of all, almost as if fate was tickling your paranoia, you could hear certain sounds at night that were too distorted be natural and too human to belong to an animal. There were sobs, loud and tormented, sometimes you could make up a few words in a language no one spoke anymore. You slept less and less each night, you could swear you felt someone's lingering touch on your shoulders, them gently stroking your hair and even pressing their cold unmoving lips on yours. This was usually the point when you opened your eyes and screamed in fear only to realize you were alone in the room. There was nobody there.

Still you decided to speak with your parents about the creepy events taking place in the attic. Much to your dismay they brushed your concerns off once again, laughing softly and calling you a scaredy - cat, going as far as to joke around about your "oh so creative" imagination getting the best of you just like it did in your childhood. But this time you insisted on holding your ground, almost begging them to take action and help you. At the end your mother decided to let you sleep in your brother's room for a while until you calm down, and as embarrassing it was to share a room with a hormonal teen, it was better than constantly being on the edge and losing sleep. Or so you thought.

The first night you slept in Steve's room nothing out of the ordinary happened and for the first time in weeks you actually managed to rest. The second night was blissfully peaceful as well and you quickly fell into a deep dreamless slumber.

The third night started well, just like the previous two. Your brother was tired from studying all day and went to bed early, giving you the freedom to relax a little bit before following his example. You could read a book or try to revise for your exam tomorrow, maybe even call your bestfriend and finally let her know all about your new classmates and just how boring life in the village was. But in that moment all these suggestion sounded annoying, nothing was interesting enough to hold your interest for more than a minute. Thinking about what to do next, you suddenly became aware that your body was tense and tired, but your mind was restless. After all you hadn't had time for self - care between the paranoia episodes and the fear, maybe it was finally time to do something nice and therapeutic for yourself.

You snatched a quick look at Steve and he was sleeping soundly, snoring from time to time, his usually angry face now calm and childlike. Making sure there was no one in the room awake, you finally slipped a hand down your pajama bottom until you felt the soft fabric of your panties. You closed your eyes and run a finger up and down your clothed sex, following the line of your slit. Your pussy throbbed at the sudden contact, the lack of pleasure in the last few weeks making it sensitive to the touch. You pushed your underwear lower so it hanged around your legs, and shoved one finger into your warm hole, enjoy the way your walls clenched around the digit. You flicked your clit gently, feeling it swell from the arousal, rubbing slow circles and pressing on your sweet spot every once in a while.

Your free hand went to your breasts, bare under the comfy oversized shirt, and awoke the cherry nipples with subtle pinches causing them to harden. You couldn't help but moan quietly as you decreased the pace of which you teased your hole and added a second finger in your pussy, fucking yourself on it. You were so focused on chasing your pleasure you didn't even notice the hand on your thigh pulling your own away from your excited throbbing core and replacing it with a big hard cock. Only once its head reached your tight entrance and pressed on it did your mind register the atrocious size difference. Your words stilled in your throat, the sudden panic rising in your chest, making your vision blurry and your cheeks rosy pink. You finally opened your eyes, your heart racing at the image of your younger brother towering above you with his member so close to entering your heat.

"Steve, what are you doing?" You whispered as you tried to squirm away from the boy, but he was quicker in pinning your wrists above your head in a deadlock. When did the male become so strong? Just yesterday he would ask you to open up his water bottle and help him with his math homework and now he was doing this...

"My name is Henry, my love." The voice was different from your brother's, lower and huskier, gentler in a way. You narrowed your eyes and observed the teenager's face, gasping as you noticed that his eyes had changed from black to green, yet all his other features had stayed stayed the same. You wanted to ask so many questions - who is Henry, why were your sibling's eyes and voice different from before - but you were quickly shut by one stern gaze. "I used to live here 80 years ago." The stranger started off with an unexpectedly soft tone as his grip on your wrists loosened. "I'm a ghost. I possessed your brother." He confessed calmly while you watched his pink lips part slightly with each breath as if you were in a trance before you found the strength to break your silence.

"Why are doing this to me? Why did you take my brother's body?" You questioned him manically, feeling like a confused little lamb sent to the slaughter, trembling and stuttering in front of a knife. Henry simply chuckled at your adorable dumbfounded expression and lowered his torso until his face was mere inches away from yours and you could feel his ice - cold breath on your warm red cheek. "Because I love you, darling." The ghost replied with a confident smirk that looked so weird and unnatural on the younger boy's face you almost gagged. Before you had the chance to say anything, he continued. "I've been wanting you for a while now, little girl. And with this body I can finally have you all to myself." You opened your mouth in a protest but your screams were easily muffled by a harsh kiss and a wet tongue down your throat. Next thing you knew the man had pushed your brother's manhood into your wet sloppy cunt in one sharp thurst and in your despair you had yelled for help once again, the ghost taking your whimpers greedily and shushing them away. Struggling was pointless.

In the next hour you were reduced to a sweaty whimpering mess of pain and arousal, fear and pleasure. The ghost was fucking you in a fast brutal pace while his free hand was playing with your clit, bringing you so damn close but never enough to send you over the edge. You were crying and your whole body was aching, your tits red from the rough manhandlind, your lips bruised and swollen from the rough kisses and bites. There were purple hickeys adorning your neck, belly and thighs and you went quiet in embarrassment every time you wondered how you would be able to hide them the next day.

"Please, whoever you are, let me come, I'm begging you." You pleaded desperately as you arched your back to meet the next couple of deep thrusts. Your cheeks were wet with tears and you could even taste the bitter salty flavor in your mouth mixed with your own drool and saliva. Upon hearing your meek pleas the man mercifully started hitting your cervix with each shove until his moves became sharp and quick, targeting your g-spot. You were so close you could feel your abdomen clench and tighten from the tingling sensitations. "Please..." You uttered weakly again, making doe eyes at your brother.

"Say you love me. Tie your soul to mine forever and I'll give you exactly what you want, beloved." Henry basically growled in your ear as he groped your breasts, squizing lightly the soft flesh. Your mind was so hazy and clouded you weren't sure how to respond so you just repeated the words easiest to grasp. "Love... you... forever, ngggh..." You muttered under your breath before moaning wantonly when the forceful thrusts finally sent you over the edge and your pussy clamped down in a big, satisfying orgasm. Your bliss was short - lived because soon the ghost was pounding into you again and again, keeping you too tired to move, struggle or even speak properly besides whimpering every once in a while. The rest of the night was a blur but eventually you fell asleep from the exhausting and the pleasure.

You woke up sore, your eyes red and puffy, your muscles tense and unnatentive. You rushed to look at your brother, but the teenager was sleeping just as peacefully as he did eight hours ago. One side of you was more than glad to know everything that had happened was simply a bad, terrible dream, while the other one still felt extremely uncomfortable and uneasy. You couldn't bear staying in the room any longer so you got dressed and went into the hall. Everyone else was still asleep and you felt as restless as if you hadn't caught a blink at all. You finally gave in to your paranoia and climbed the stars leading to the third floor.

You knelt on the ground where you had found the beautiful paintings. Those green eyes from your dream seemed way too familiar for it to be a coincidence. When you finally got a hold of your favorite piece, the one with the sad young boy, you had to cover your mouth to suppress the shock. There wasn't an aristocrat with golden locks on the picture anymore.

Now the one trapped in the painting was none other than you own brother, Steve. Instead of misery and pain in mysterious blue eyes, there was only terror in his tormented black ones. You screamed for the last time before you dropped the picture on the ground and ran away from the attic, the tears streaming down your face, but unfortunately, there was no escape from the restless dead souls.

#yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere oc #male yandere #yandere smut #yandere male #yandere oc x reader #yandere male x reader #yandere oneshot #yancore #yandere concept #male yandere x you #tw incest #tw non con

324 notes · View notes

eureka-its-zico · 3 years

Text

Irrevocably Yours Pt. 2

Part 1

Request: hey! can i request a scenario of jungkook being a rich kid who has some of his legs is leg failure , basically can't walk without a cane , And he falls in love with a normal girl , and they end up running away , happy ending plz , also if u can , LIT IT Up with smut ' thank u ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

A/N: So Part 2 is that slow burn build up (with possible cute moments?) and part 3 will be the actual SMUTTY goodness. Hopefully this is something cute and fluffy that is enjoyable and helps progress the story a little more so when a full length next part of a bunch of smut comes it all makes sense. Or idk anymore lol I edited this thing four times and I just really hope you all like it Please enjoy this wordy mess. I wasn’t sure how to properly write it out the end and yeah...I winged it. If it needs to be fixed lmk please!! As always, I hope you all enjoy. Much love, Jenn

P.s. when I wrote this I listened to Lauv’s “I Like Me Better,” and Pink Sweat$ Feat. Kehlani’s “At My Worst,” on repeat like crazy.

Jungkook x Reader

Word count: 15,496 (I know:it’s a hefty boy)

Genre: Fluffy/Smutty, slow burn,

The next day at school you weren’t a hundred percent sure what was going to happen. And sure, maybe you did wake up from a dream replaying that moment in the mud. The ending is a little bit different. This time, dream you didn’t let your chance to kiss him go by. When the opportunity presented itself, and you were both looking at one another like before, you’d leaned forward and kissed him. You weren’t surprised to feel him kissing you back.

You could still feel the ghost of the imagination of him leaning down to press his lips against yours. The way he leaned in; eyes soft with longing as his body leaned deeper in against you. The weight of him pressing you into the mud until you were sure an imprint of this moment would be there forever. This imaginary kiss you’d shared was sweet, chaste, and everything you could’ve hoped for. Deepening at the last second as your alarm blared you back into realty.

It made you want to ring your hands through your hair in frustration.

Your whole walk to school was nothing but foggy images of the dream on repeat. A mixture of yesterday’s events accompanied them with each frame until you weren’t sure which was the actual moments or what your head had created. I mean, you did know he didn’t kiss you, but...the look in his eyes. Maybe Jungkook hadn’t, but there was that moment you swore maybe he felt the painful comedic romance moment of it all too.

All these unanswered what if’s you'd created had built an impossible chasm that seemed to stretch infinitely wider between you in your head. In the end, you were your own bully as your mind stayed up until three that morning playing out every scenario you could think of. Even the ones that ended with you probably reading everything wrong, because what did you know about body language? Or, more specifically, boys built like Jeon Jungkook.

It didn’t matter that you had two tests today and never finished your homework for home period, but what the hell. Nothing like hopelessly daydreaming about the boy who may or may not have flirted with you and harmonized along to songs with a hidden voice of an angel, am I right? And sure, a large part of your night was spent chastising yourself half the time to remind you there was no way in hell Jungkook could feel that way towards you. Even just a little. Your inner monologue of bringing yourself back down to earth, another culprit in the growing list of reasons why none of your assignments were completed.

What can you say? You were a mess.

Your only game plan you’d been able to agree on was just to daydream out the window. Writing out your own hapless love story starring the boy who sat across from you in the home room. With a silent plea to the universe that you weren’t called on to answer any questions.

Your arrival at homeroom was met with barely seconds to spare. The bell rang behind you, and a few other students, as you rushed towards your desk.

“Hurry, hurry to your seats! Or I’ll write you up as late!”

Mr. Choi was all talk. Everyone knew it and his excessive arm movements to rush every body that passed his desk made him look exactly like a conductor. His crazy movements were enough to distract you for a split second from the one person you were desperate to ignore.

“Good morning, class. I hope you are all fully rested and awake for class this morning. Let’s have us open our books to page two hundred and forty-two and continue on with our lesson.”

In unison the sound of backpacks unzipping with students reaching in their backpacks to bring out textbooks filled the class. The only person who didn’t currently have said book was holding his hand up, and seated directly across from you.

“Yes, Jungkook?”

“Seonsaengnim, I’m sorry. I haven’t received my textbooks yet.”

“Ah, that’s alright, Jungkook. You can go ahead and share with Y/N, again.”

You hoped your face wasn’t giving away the panic you felt rising up to match the blush that was streaking across your cheeks. Jungkook’s hand was already on the leg of your desk. His fingers tips grazing across your knee in passing as his hand wrapped around the bar and used it to bring you closer to him. You kept your eyes glued to page two hundred and forty-three and refused to look in his direction. Jungkook seemed to find a way to remedy this; his hand came into view and grabbed hold of the book corner and slid it over to his side. And as if he was the world’s greatest magician, he now had your attention.

Your eyes immediately shoot up to acknowledge his presence, instead of staying on the book. You knew that devilish smirk of his would be there to greet you even before you actually saw it.

“Well, good morning to you too, Y/N.”

His voice practically hummed a tune as he spoke. His eyes heavily searched your face, and you prayed whatever he found wasn’t any lasting signs of rosy cheeks.

“Good morning, Jungkook. I hope you slept well.”

“I slept very well, thank you.”

“That’s good-“

He cut you off fast, his next words a hush of teasing: “Even though some crazy girl tried to smother me in mud yesterday.”

Your world narrowed in on his smug position in his chair, but quickly realized he just wanted your attention. The smile he wore softened around the edges as his eyes tried to look away from you and yet found their way back. You did your best to hide your smile and must have failed miserably for his face noticeably brightened.

“I’m sure if that’s what she was doing - which I doubt - you probably deserved it.”

Jungkook pretended to be wounded and caused you to practically jump out of your seat when his free hand landed on top of yours.

“I can’t believe you think I deserve to be smothered,” he pouted.

You rolled your eyes in a weak attempt to look away from him. Anything to not be swallowed up by how stupidly cute he looked in this exact moment. The fingers that held your pencil lazily tapping on the pages of the math book to bring his focus to something else that wasn’t you.

“We need to pay attention.”

It was the only valuable excuse you could come up with to look away from him. But who were you kidding? You didn’t have to be looking in Jungkook’s direction to be painfully aware that he was there. His own gaze burned straight through you and left a trail of heat everywhere his eyes seemed to land.

Right now, you were aware they were on your lips and stirring every emotion from your dream you tried to suppress. Plus, you weren’t being cute. Unless Jungkook found the sight of you chewing your bottom lip into dust attractive.

It was a terrible nervous habit that seemed to only backfire right this second. You were sure he was ready to make a comment on it. You waited patiently for it to come in between you mindlessly copying equations off the board and the sea of arms flying up to answer whatever it was you’d just written. My gosh, you were trying so damn hard to not pay attention that you were doing nothing but paying attention to him.

Please don’t let him just see I’m doodling.

Mr. Choi was in the middle of showing how to work out a long equation when you decided it was safe to give Jungkook a glance. It was instantaneous how quickly you regretted it.

You jumped back against your seat in a weak attempt to recover some space. You weren’t exactly sure how you’d missed it -missed him- getting so close, but you had. Jungkook’s face was mere inches from yours and it took everything to not show him you weren’t at all bothered.

“Jungkook,” you whispered fiercely. “What.are.you.doing!”

Jungkook ignored your question. His eyes squinting as they looked around the side of your head. The gesture made you increasingly subconscious until you couldn’t keep your hand from going up to brush alongside it.

“What? What is it?”

You were expecting the worst.

“I think I see some mud still stuck inside your ear.”

And like magic your earlier blush reappeared. Your tongue rolled against the bottom of your teeth in a weak attempt to keep yourself from smiling. Unfortunately, you weren’t able to stop it as the urge to give in tugged mercilessly at your lips. The playful glint in his eyes was enough to keep the panic of how incredibly close he still was. Your eyes hopelessly glancing at the pair of lips that plagued your dreams.

Jungkook noticed.

And how did you know this, you might ask?

Jungkook gave it away by the dramatic way his lower lip was drawn in by his teeth. Every movement he made sure was exaggerated and stupidly slow. His eyes watch for your reaction. He didn’t have to wait long; your eyes were glued to them long before his teeth joined the equation. You should’ve felt more embarrassed at your own blunt display - or maybe at his -but, god help you, you weren’t.

You tore your gaze away from him and did your best to pretend whatever part of the lesson you’d missed was interesting. The dirt on your shoes could’ve been more interesting at this moment; anything to keep you from looking back at him.

“I rinsed my hair three times in the shower. Thank you very much.”

“Did you think of me while you were washing yourself clean?”

If what Jungkook was after was seeing your face light up brighter than a tomato he’d succeeded. Your cheeks instantly flushed and felt scolding hot. The only line of defense you could think of to fight the devilish look in his eyes was to give him a smack on his arm. The motion only caused his sinister smile to turn into a full blown grin; a bark of laughter leaving him seconds later.

Jungkook chuckled out an, “Ouch!” His body leaning back, faux wounded, and rays of sunshine pouring out of him in waves.

“I meant when you were getting the mud out of your hair.” His voice carried the singing sweetness of his laughter; airy and light. This boy who you did think of in the shower. All hard edges and softness; sour and sweet. Your very own sour patch kid. “I mean, I thought of you when I tried scrubbing it out from behind my ears.”

Your heart gave a brief jump at his omission. What you wished you would’ve focused on was the fact he’d admitted to thinking of you...in his own shower. But nope! Instead, your mind appeared to focus more on the fact it was while he scrubbed at his ears.

“I scrubbed my ears too.”

Oh. My. God, you inwardly cringed.

Is that really what your magical brain decided to say in return? Jungkook leaned back in, eyes inspecting not just your ear, but your entire space. Recklessly moving in dangerously close, and your heart was ready to beg for mercy. Whether to completely close the space between you or to stop teasing, of which you weren’t sure.

“It appears you didn’t do that good of a job,” he huffed.

A gurgled scream flew into your throat; the sound was utterly ridiculous and Jungkook ate it up. His head flew back in laughter as your hand moved to swat at him again.

The disruption turned the attention of your teacher directly to the two of you, and Mr. Choi was quick to address it.

“Jean Jungkook! Y/L/N, Y/N!”

The both of you rose from your seats in unison. Jungkook’s rise the definition of graceful, while yours in comparison was met with anxiety and your knees colliding with your desk. Your small “Oomph,” of pain sending him into a fit of giggles beside you. The hand you sent in to pinch at his leg only sent him into another fit.

“Y/N!”

Stupid, stupid! Of course he would see.

“Seonsaengnim!”

To appease him, you felt your body respond in a ninety-degree salute. Your face keeping down to stare at your shoes and praying you weren’t about to be sent out of the room.

“Would you mind explaining what Jungkook and you found so interesting that the two of you felt like you didn’t need to be a part of class.”

God, it wasn’t a question. He really wanted you to tell him, and what could you say?

“Oh, he was just asking me if I was in the shower...thinking of him. And he was thinking of me too!”

Which wasn't a lie. Maybe it wasn’t as dirty as he might have intended, but it was enough to make your cheeks flush to life with their usual color these days. Your mind was still racing with an appropriate answer for Mr. Choi. You were taking so long you were ready to blurt out anything he might want to hear.

“Seonsaengnim.” Jungkook gave a respectful bow and lifted his head. His full attention now resting on the impatiently waiting man at the front of the class. “We were discussing the fact that you, respectfully, have written the equation wrong on the board.”

The entire class seized up. A collective air was taken at Jungkook’s bold attempt to correct him. It was awkwardly obvious that he wasn’t happy at the idea of being corrected. However, Jungkook remained unfazed and waited for the right time to speak.

“Is that so?” He snapped. “If it is so wrong, Jeon, then please, come and fix it for me.”

You were sure his order for Jungkook to go to the front would make him back down . No one enjoyed doing class work on the board up front for all to see. But you’d forgotten Jungkook wasn’t like everyone else. He kept his head high and moved to grab his cane; his hand wrapping tightly to its handle. Jungkook stepped out from inside his desk and let his feet carry him forward. He walked with a noticeable lack of a limp and you were willing to bet that strike of pride was costing him.

It wasn’t that you couldn’t believe that Jungkook was able to walk without it. It was just that your memory forced you to recall the pain he was in during the field trip. The flashes of frustration as his eyes threatened to spill over with tears.

Jungkook came to stand beside Mr. Choi. His hand reaching out to take the marker that the older man had held out waiting for him to prove his equation wrong. He plucked it from the older man’s hand and moved the last few inches to stand in front of the board. His eyes scanning the problem quickly. Your breath held tight in your chest as you watched him get permission to grab the eraser. The class transfixed on his every movement.

You wondered how many of the girls in your class focused on him like you were. The same way your eyes ate up every simple movement he made. The notable flex of his back while he stretched to erase the middle and last part of what Mr. Choi had written out.

“You had a good start here, Seonsaengnim.” Jungkook paused to stretch out his hand. Fingers marking underneath the start of the problem. “But you didn’t multiply these after they were divided, and because of this the middle became wrong. With your core of the problem being wrong the solution was never able to end in its final conclusion.”

With every word, Jungkook’s voice became more self-assured. His presence enveloping the room and demanding the attention he’d already received without question. Mr. Choi watched on with his arms crossed; index finger hugging his mouth in concentration as he watched Jungkook work. From the back of the class, you could see students writing down the new formula. Some of them realized the obvious error Mr. Choi had made.

Jungkook looked at the problem over again on repeat. If it’d been you, you would have left it where it was knowing you’d done what no one else did. But Jungkook wanted to know, for himself, that it was correct.

Finally, he stepped back from the whiteboard and handed the marker back to Mr. Choi. Who looked measurably impressed with him. His index finger he’d used for thinking now covered up a timid smile before he dropped it to grab a hold of the marker.

“Go ahead and have a seat, Jungkook.”

Jungkook gave him a passing bow as he made his way back towards the back of the class. Back to you. It took everything you had not to notice how everyone’s view of him seemed to change. Even the honor students; the ones bound for scholarship glory to prestigious colleges now seemed to take new interest in him.

You’d heard stories about Jungkook, like everyone else did. The Boy Wonder. The boy who seemed unfairly good at everything. Before you’d ever met him, a part of you believed there wasn’t a way the universe would seriously do that. And yet, as he moved to sit back down beside you, you suddenly felt the overwhelming sensation of being below average. Your subconscious rose up to stop whatever sunlight you’d felt at his earlier words, and crushed it until it began to dim. All but snuffing it out.

Jungkook fell back into the seat at his desk riding the high of confidence he’d gained from proving he’d know how to fix the answer. Not just know it; teach it. The air around him completely changed. He was the sun and the rest of you were becoming helplessly lost in his orbit. From the backwards glances of the others around you, you were pretty sure they weren’t going to mind one bit.

Either Jungkook was honestly oblivious to all the attention or he just didn’t care. He practically beamed as he leaned himself closer to you completely unaware at how breathless he made you. That smile you’d admired during your field trip showed itself beaming and bright. He was so damn pleased with himself his eyes sparked with joy and you wish you could’ve pouted. Maybe found the strength not to care or to wonder if he could see how he affected you.

You wanted to pout and be in your own bubble, damn it.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I don’t think he’ll bother us again.”

Us.

Those butterflies you’d sworn to yourself you were not feeling towards him began to come to life. Or were they butterflies? You weren’t sure what to call the feeling Jungkook gave you.

Sure, Jungkook made your heart thunder in your chest like a caged animal. And yea, maybe you swore to yourself there was an attraction there that you couldn’t explain, but that was just your dopamine talking. That didn’t mean the two of you were soulmates or the universe decided to bring you both together by a mess of unseen choices.

But...when Jungkook looked at you this way it was hard to tell your thundering heart anything else.

The two of you continued to look at one another. A heartbeat of time passing between you with Jungkook waiting for your reply. You watched the edges of his smile start to wilt as realization set in that you weren’t planning to reply. No smile or teasing remark was headed his way, and just as fast as he noticed it, determination swiftly replaced the light weighted joy he’d shown moments earlier.

“Hey, you don’t have to worry. I’m positive he will leave us alone the rest of the class. I promise.”

God, why did he have to make things so difficult? When Jungkook spoke the words, “I promise,” they’d been so earnest. He meant them. Here he was trying to turn the tables and be your knight, instead of you being his. It would have worked, but what he didn’t know was that you weren’t worried about Mr. Choi. Not really.

No one could tear you down further than you were able to do to yourself.

He was still waiting for the answer that you would never give. You turned to face forward in your chair and tried to forget the ripple of sadness that moved over his face. The cost of your stubbornness suddenly felt too high. No matter how it made you feel though, you refused to look over in his direction.

An awkward chasm had built between the two of you. Mostly, well, obviously it was all because of you. You figured Jungkook would eventually stop looking at you. You prayed he would stop. Every time he did it your body became painfully aware of his gaze, and the longing it held for you to acknowledge him. And every time you remained facing front. You no longer could pretend to focus, however, and that seemed to be all the signs Jungkook needed to know you were in some way paying attention.

Your notebook that’d been left unattended on the desk became his private art museum. The doodles started off silly and slowly morphed into small faces and objects that held impressive detail. You tried your best to ignore it; his arm practically took up most of the space on your desk. The angle forced him to shoulder into your space to the point that if you did finally turn to look at him you’d run inches away from his cheek.

You were doing your best to pay attention to whatever your teacher was doing at the front. Your eyes watched as a wave of hands went up to answer questions you’d never heard. Yours kept sliding back down to the latest doodle he was making. The latest one he was working on had forced Jungkook to move further inland on your notepad. His forearm getting dangerously close to having to rest in your lap.

It continued like this the remainder of class. For all the effort you’d put in the last half hour of pretending he wasn’t there, Jungkook shattered it within seconds.

He’d repositioned himself with each new doodle he started. His shoulder wedged itself against yours and his forearm had completely taken up what little space was left on your desk. You were trying very hard to not pay attention to how said forearm was dangerously close to your chest. There was no hiding the redness of your cheeks.

Without thinking, you whipped your head to look at him and almost yelled. You knew he was close, but nothing prepared you for this.

“Excuse me,” you whispered, voice incredulous.

Jungkook turned to look at you and...was he pouting? His eyes played up on the childish quality as he turned to you and batted his eyes.

“Can I help you?”

“Ugh, can I help you? Do you need paper or something?”

“I have paper right here. Thanks.”

Jungkook patted the notepad with the end of his pen. Satisfied with his answer he turned his attention back to his latest artistic endeavor.

“You know this is my desk. Right?”

“I like to think of it more like our desk. Sharing a space like we shared music.”

“Ya, Jungkook. You realize you blackmailed me into using my ipod.”

Jungkook feigned shock. His mouth dropping open and his eyes brows going too high up into his hairline. The entire scene was exaggerated and ridiculous. The scene forced you to roll your lips against your teeth to keep from smiling. The effort it took to hide your grin wasn’t unnoticed by Jungkook, and you couldn’t help but wonder if that’d been his goal all along.

“Blackmail sounds so crass. I like to think of it as bargaining.”

“So we agree it’s called blackmail, then.”

The theatrics of his face dropped into a serious stare that left his face completely blank. Void of all emotion except the annoyance that drew a heavy frown from his face. It was stupidly cute and this time you did allow yourself to smile. Your fingers reached out to grab one of his puffed out cheeks and gave it a sweet pinch, like a grandmother, and cooed in his direction.

“Oooooh Jungkookie, don’t frown. We’ve all gotta be wrong sometimes.”

He playfully nipped at your hand to make you snatch it away. It took everything in you not to make a sound at his sudden movement. Your mouth hung open in an awkward smile-shout as you brought your handle against your chest.

“I think you’re misinterpreting the facts here. Maybe you hit your head on a small pebble or something when you fell in the mud.”

“You mean when you pulled me in.”

He shrugged and replied nonchalantly, “I don’t think I recall any force being used yesterday. You just fell on my chest trying to take advantage of me in my time of need.”

Now it was your turn to look deadpanned in his direction. Jungkook didn’t try to hide his wicked smile, however, and the cage of butterflies that were housed in your gut were released all over again.

“Your appa must be a lawyer. It’d explain why you’re so good at bullshitting.”

“CEO, actually. But I would say you’re close. They are also full of shit.”

You weren’t sure what to say to this omission about his father. Underneath the sarcasm felt like a heavy chasm that spoke of the death of a relationship. Your curiosity threatened to get the best of you, but you decided to just throw it away. Filing it away inside a little folder you’d made for little known facts about him.

The bell rang and the mass of bodies in class all began to rise from their seats. All of them eager to rush from the classroom and do whatever plans they’d made to enjoy their little bit of freedom. You were reaching for your bookbag when Jungkook’s hand was just there. A part of you worried he’d decided to play a game of keep away, or something that fit his playful mood, Instead, he placed it down on the desk.

“Oh, thank you, Jungkook.”

God. Why were you staring? Why was he staring?

The room was still filled with the small display of chaotic teenage energy. Most of them had already filed out of the classroom, while some were still putting things away. Honor students were arguing with the teacher about markings he’d left on papers. Small groups of friends chatting happily as they moved in tight clusters through the door. So much was going on around you, and yet the only person you were aware of was him.

“You’re welcome. Have a good lunch, Y/N.”

The playful air that’d been around him had completely disappeared. This boy who stood before you now was more reminiscent of when you’d first met than the boy you’d grown to like. What had made him grow so distant?

“You too, Kookie.”

It slipped out. You couldn’t stop yourself. He’d already started to walk away in his retreat. As soon as his pet name you’d given him hit his ears he completely stopped moving. His head whipped around to glance at you with that devilish grin raised high on his cheeks.

“Kookie? Are you calling me a snack?”

If your eyes could’ve gotten any wider, they would’ve left your skull. The embarrassment was hot on your cheeks and you knew Jungkook would tease you without mercy for the slip up. By the look in his eyes you could tell he was never going to let this go. Not ever. He would be too happy to remind you of this until the day you died. Or until graduation. Whichever came first.

This time you scooped up your bookbag and snatched your book off the desk clutching them to your chest. In your haste to grab them and go, your knee collided with the edge of the desk, but you’d worry about that possible bruise later. You just needed to flee before Jungkook got any closer.

“No, no. It was an accident.”

“You called me a snack by accident?”

You were backing up towards the safety of the open hallway. Your shoulders shrugging too high and your laugh too high-pitched in your attempt to play it cool.

“No snack nicknames here. It was just a slip of the tongue. I must just be hungry, ya know.”

“Are you hungry for me?”

Oh, he was intolerable sometimes. It didn’t matter how flustered he made you. A part of you knew his endless teasing was growing on you. You liked it, and the sane part of you wondered if you’d gone crazy.

“Ya, Jungkook-”

“I think you mean, Kookie,” he cut in.

Jungkook held a single finger up to silence you. He’d stopped moving towards you and let out a laugh as you tried to swat his hand down. He looked so much happier than he did moments ago. That alone made his teasing at your expense worth it.

“No I mean, Jungkook. It’s the name your parents gave you.” You stated, proud that your voice sounded more stable than you felt. “I’m gonna go eat my lunch now. You should do the same and I’ll...see you later.”

You waited for him to argue. To continue to make comments in passing to keep your face rosy and flushed. He surprised you by just standing there in silence. His smile wide on his face and eyes looking at you like you’d held the moon. A look you weren’t used to and made you unsure how to respond.

You started to walk back towards the door and found yourself disappointed when he didn’t follow. You sent him an awkward wave as your arms still held onto your things from your desk. Jungkook showed his amusement by giving you a wave in return.

“See you later, Y/N.”

At his words you turned on your heel and headed out towards the courtyard. No longer eager to eat your lunch that you’d packed. Your mind replayed his words and knew, without a doubt, he would keep his word.

—————-

Lunch went by as quickly as it came. Instead of eating your lunch with friends, you’d opted for sulking in the auditorium. Absentmindedly taking small bits off your food as you considered what had happened between Jungkook and you.

There was flirting there. You may be a little delusional, but you weren’t delusional about this. It was obvious to anyone who witnessed it and yet you tried to deny its existence at every turn. Of course, you knew why.

It just didn’t make logical sense. You were two opposites that shouldn’t be in the least bit interested in the other. Well, that didn’t really seem correct when it came to Jungkook. He was attractive to everyone and probably even inanimate objects. But you...you just couldn’t see yourself that way. You’d only ever had one relationship in your life and it had been short-lived and in the third grade.

Throwing what little was left of your sandwich back inside it’s little brown coffin, you removed yourself from your spot. A huff left you as you reached out to pick up your mess and started to hop back down the steps one-by-one.

You weren’t sure what walking around was going to do. For the hundredth time since this day started, you were lost in your own head. The only thing you knew for certain was that you’d hoped to run into him again. A thought came to you that maybe, just this day, he’d shown up in the school's cafeteria.

You could think of a million excuses for why you’d need to go into the cafeteria and it wouldn’t be weird. Just the thought of not coming off weird, while most certainly being weird, made you beam at your own creativity.

You’d reached the last step and we’re crossing the field when you noticed, on the other side, the very boy you were looking for. He was alone and sitting under the shade of the only tree next to the amphitheater. His back against the bark and a knee drawn up to give his notepad a place to perch. Whatever he was writing, drawing, or formulating held his interest and refused to let him look up.

All your previous bravado deflated in a second. It would be harder to deny you weren’t actively seeking him out if you went to him now. But, who said that you wanted too?

Grabbing the strap of your book bag tight, you started back on your mission. Your legs made quick work across the field. It wasn’t until there was only a few feet left between you that he looked up. His brow still furrowed in tight creases of concentration as he decided if you were a friend or foe. Your feet almost tripped over themselves when he smiled at you.

“Y/N!” He called happily. “What brings you over here?”

“I came looking for my snack.”

The surprise on his face made your bold choice of a response worth it. Jungkook, being who he was, quickly recovered and set his notebook and pencil down beside him. He placed his arms casually on his propped up leg and leaned forward as if he was about to tell you a secret.

“Well, you found me. Why did you come looking for me? Really.”

You tried to think quickly of what to say. The idea of telling him the truth, that you’d just wanted to see him, felt painfully honest and might press him to ask for you to explain. How could you explain that in the short time you’d met him he was both the most interesting and infuriating man you’d ever met. But he was also the most beautiful, and had a delicate softness under his hard exterior that you were growing to love. He was basically the perfect description of the onion from Shrek.

An idea clicked in your head and your hands quickly moved inside your bag and produced another brown bag.

“I wanted to come see if you’d eaten. I had some spare kimchi rice ball’s my omma made.”

You extended the bag out to him. Your eyes locked together as you waited for him to either accept it or deny it. Jungkook surprised you by leaning forward and taking it gently from you. It took some effort, but he crossed his legs -his bad one in an awkward position - and plopped the bag down between his legs.

You moved to sit beside him in the grass and took your book bag off your shoulder and into your lap. You watched as he moved to open the bag and peered cautiously inside.

“It’s not a bomb,” you chided.

“I never know with you.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile spreading like wildfire across your lips. Jungkook was so charismatic it felt inevitable and fighting against it was futile. He took a large bite of the rice ball and practically swooned. His eyes had fallen shut and a ridiculous chanting of endless “Mhm’s” had started rising up around you.

“Should I leave you two alone?”

Jungkook’s eyes snapped open and for a moment you were worried maybe you did pull him out of some weird food ritual. His eyes were blank and then, all at once, he was back to being his usual animated self. The hand that held the rice ball shaking in your direction before shoving what was left inside his mouth.

“This is unbelievably delicious.” He mumbled around his food. “You said your omma made these?”

“Yup!”

You’d said it in English just to dramatically pop the P at the end. Extending out your own kind of dramatics to match Jungkook’s. You leaned your hands back into the grass and noticed Jungkook watch your every move as you did.

“Is your omma married?”

Your face fell into a deadpan stare as you replied, “Seriously? Of course her and my appa are still married, you creep.”

“If you can cook like your omma, Y/N I’m willing to lend you my amazing tutoring services. All for the low price of making things as delicious as this.”

He was already mid-way through shoving the second rice ball in his mouth. His head tilted back to drop it down. A piece of rice must have dislodged itself from its balled shape, because he erupted in a coughing fit. You couldn’t help but laugh as you handed him your water.

“I think I’ll steer clear of rice treats. Just to make sure you don’t kill yourself.”

Jungkook was about to lift the bottle up to his lips and stopped. His eyes falling on you with a playful glare. You held your hands up in mock surrender as you leaned forward. Your hands clap together to get pieces of grass and soil from your hands.

While he drank the water you’d offered up the two of you fell into companionable silence. You didn’t mind waiting and Jungkook was happy that you did. When he’d finished with the bottle, he set it down beside him. His hand moving like a flopping fish in your direction to make you give him something that you’d had no idea he’d asked for.

“Come on. Let’s see your math homework.”

“For what?”

“To start your tutoring. Duh.”

You hated how cute he’d made the word sound. The way his lips smiled around it and left him beaming at you like a little kid on Christmas.

“Can we pass? We just left the class and I hate math. A lot.”

Jungkook tsked you but didn’t look disappointed.

“You can’t get better at something if you give up on it. Luckily for you, you’ve got the best person in the subject to tutor you.”

“For a fee,” you pointed out.

“All the best things come with a price. I’m most definitely one of them. Now. Book.”

His hand movements were more controlled now. His fingers simply waved once -twice- for you to hurry it up and place what he’d asked in his hand. You really didn’t want any part of this. The thought was sweet, but when you said you hated math you meant it. So yeah, maybe you were grumbling a little as you reached inside your book bag and taking a little longer than was necessary to hand it over.

Jungkook took it from you in one smooth motion and had it open to the spot previously in class. All your homework problems you’d left unfinished glaring against the white of the page. His eyes were already scanning over what little problems you’d written down. A clicking noise from his closed mouth reminding you why exactly you hadn’t finished more of it. The reason was sitting right in front of you.

His hand flicked back out and he held it open. His eyes never lifted off the page as he demanded, “Pencil.”

“What the heck? Why am I supplying everything.”

“Cause I’m supplying myself,” he shot back. His hands taking the pencil you handed over to him. “Plus, I also can’t seem to find any in my bag.”

“You didn’t even look.”

Jungkook gave a graceful shrug. His attention was fully engrossed in the problems. You weren’t ready for how cute he looked. How adorable those concentration creases in his forehead made him look, even deadly serious, with his fingers tapping the pencil absentmindedly on the paper. When he figured out what was missing from the equation he quickly erased and reconfigured everything on the page.

You were staring intently at him, both because his angle’s were ridiculously handsome but also, the way the sun fell down on him here, peaking through the trees, felt like magic. It was hard to believe the universe was more than just molecules and that luck was thrown out randomly. If it was, maybe you’d caught some.

Your thoughts were running wild and your concentration was no longer in the safe zone. Maybe that’s why when he finally looked up from the notebook and found you staring he’d smiled. Not his teasing one. Or the condescending either. This smile was soft like a secret, and directed only at you. \

“See something you like?”

His voice was gentle in his playfulness. As if he wanted to take the cautionary approach in case you were spooked.

“Maybe I do.”

A smile of your own spread to match his and Jungkook wasn’t surprised. He was just happy, and it was a lovely sight to see. He looked away from you with his hand moving up to smooth out the hair on the back of his neck. He flicked the pencil down on the notebook and brought it forward for you to see.

“Let’s get back to this. I’ll be honest with you. It’s pretty bad. You missed a whole line on the third problem that left you with an incomplete answer. Not to mention,” he lifted up the notebook and motioned towards the whole page, “Where is all the rest of the homework?”

Jungkook’s voice was filled with the beginnings of laughter. Not specifically towards you, but just the blatant fact you did not care. You gave him your best nonchalant shrug. In reality, you did care. It bothered you it wasn��t finished.

Your fingers were digging in the grass and ripping some of it up and throwing it out into the field.

“I had a hard time concentrating last night. Plus, if I’m being honest math has always been the hardest subject for me.”

“And that is why I’m going to help you.”

“For a fee,” you reminded him.

“I’ll teach you the easiest way I know how to do these and I promise you, you’ll be flying through these problems in no time.”

The sincerity in his voice was evident. Jungkook really believed it and he wanted you to believe it too. You just couldn’t understand why and you found yourself speaking your mind.

“Why are you wanting to help me?”

It was his turn to shrug his shoulders. His face went blank as he looked at you one last time before he looked away. Whatever he was looking at he wasn’t really seeing. He just needed someplace else to look than the person he was talking to you. You did it plenty of times yourself.

Whatever he’d decided on to say had caused his shoulders to square. Determined that whatever he needed to say he would make sure it meant something.

“I like spending time with you.”

The smile you’d worn completely shattered as you stared at him. The butterflies rushed up and up until they trapped themselves in your throat. Jungkook’s admission was basically three words dropped away from just saying he liked you.

This surprising admission should’ve been enough to make yourself not care who you saw walking. Or care when he stopped, his small mob with him, and start gesturing at his imaginary watch. His fingers rubbing together for money owed.

It was worse when Jungkook looked back and took notice. Even worse when he looked back at you with questions swirling in his eyes.

“Everything okay?”

Your eyes looked down to the safety of your hands. The way they were helplessly fidgeting back in the grass and tearing it apart like a miniature tantrum was brewing inside you. You hated that after all this time, you let Lee Kwon upset you by making you feel embarrassed about your dad. That he felt the need to tell everyone the business deal between his father and yours. How every time he told it he’d turned him more and more into a villain of his own misfortune.

Without a reason why you took back your notebook from Jungkook and shoved it inside your bag. You were ready to leave. You didn’t want to explain, but you knew Jungkook wouldn’t let you just leave without one.

He reached out and his hand gently wrapped around your wrist to stop you. There was no force. Nothing that hinted that he would keep you there if you didn’t want to be kept. Looking at him felt harder. His genuine worry almost threatened to let the tears from your frustration spill forward.

“Hey, Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head. Your vision dragging away from him and back to the retreating back of the sociopath, Lee Kwon.

You didn’t try to shake him off. You actually felt comforted by his worrisome touch. The way he leaned in closer as if he would pull you into his arms at any moment. As much as you wanted that to happen, you knew it wouldn’t happen. A deep sigh had built up in your chest and you released it while you looked back at him.

“Look. Eventually, I know you’re going to hear about it: my dad, I mean.”

“That’s kind of odd high school kids would talk about someone’s appa.”

“You and me both,” you agreed. “But Kwon’s dad is a banker who doesn’t believe in client confidentiality. So he tells his son about his day over dinner and-“

“And he decides to bring it to school to make your life miserable,” Jungkook finished for you.

He understood and didn’t need you to simplify it anymore. His hand left your arm and you suddenly found yourself missing his comforting touch. It was still there, that comfort, in the way his eyes softened and he leaned in intent to listen to whatever you needed to get off your chest. You appreciated his attention, but also hated it at the same time.

“What’s your Appa’s thing?”

God. He did understand. Maybe just a little too well for your liking.

“Gambling. It started when I was in the seventh grade. At first it wasn’t anything too crazy. He’d always been able to even it out. But then he became obsessed with the idea of winning big. Kept betting on things we couldn’t afford to lose. Eventually, he bet too high and ended up losing the business he and my mom built together and our house. They had to pay the bank back.”

“A bank this dude’s Appa works at.”

“Correct. My Appa...he isn’t a bad man. He’s paid his debt and hasn’t gambled since. What good is it for me or anyone else to make him feel bad for the rest of his life?”

“I don’t get it. Why does that have to do with you, though?”

You’d wondered the same exact thing half of your adolescent life. You shrugged and looked at Jungkook wondering if maybe he’d be able to make sense of it better than you could.

“Twelve year old boys enjoy making up stories. First it was that we became so poor we lived with pigs. That's why I smelled.”

You put air quotations around smelled and Jungkook practically howled with laughter. You tried your best to show no emotion, but could feel the corner of your lips threatening to curl into a smile.

“He probably said it because you didn’t know how to wash back then and, judging from earlier, I still don’t think you do.”

You moved to playfully shove at his shoulder. A scoff of laughter leaving you even though you told yourself you wouldn’t. Jungkook was waiting for you to make a move and when you did he easily grabbed a hold of you. The feeling of intimacy, just like yesterday in the mud, was swimming back to the surface.

Your eyes looked up into his with your laughter being met with a wide grin. The way he was looking at you now made you believe in fairytales and left your lips aching to be kissed.

Before either of you could decide what to do next, the bell for the end of lunch sounded. You could hear it going off all around you, but still the two of you stayed holding each other. Your bodies close enough that if he wanted to make a move all Jungkook needed was to lean down. To say your heart dropped a little when he moved away was an understatement.

You focused on getting up from the grass. Your hands patting down your uniform as you struggle to find something not so awkward to say. You wanted to sound confident. You wanted to sound like you weren’t affected by him at all.

“Well, I’ll see you around.”

God, you sounded awkward. You turned to start heading to your next period. You closed your eyes tight and mouthed, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” You’d gotten a few feet away when you heard him call to you.

You turned to look back at him and found him still standing under the tree. His hands in his pockets and his eyes solely on you.

“Would you let me walk you home?”

Did he really have to ask? You’d let him walk you to the edge of a volcano. You didn’t say that, however. You wanted to play it cool, but on the inside you were screaming.

“I’d like that.”

When you turned back around to make your way to class, the memory of how his face had brightened at your reply, stayed with you. You couldn’t wait for the day to end.

_________

True to his word Jungkook waited for you after school. You couldn’t help looking for him over the countless shoulders as you walked with the sea of students towards the entrance. The hole in the pit of your stomach opened back up from the underlying dreadful thought. That he wouldn't show up. You’d be left standing there waiting for him forever. But Jungkook continued to prove your pessimism wrong.

The closer you got to the school’s gate, you were able to spot him instantly. He was leaning coolly against the gate. His bag at his feet and his cane positioned strategically out of view. If anyone just casually walked up, they would’ve never been able to tell he’d needed one. Maybe that was why he’d done it.

He looked to be searching for someone in every face that passed him. It came to an end the minute his roaming eyes found you. No longer did he appear cool and composed. His body became animated with what you could only explain as a giddiness at your oncoming presence.

By the time you reached him, Jungkook was wearing his backpack on his shoulder and his cane in his hand. He was standing and waiting for you. The happiness at being next to you was intoxicating and you could only hope you looked the same.

“It felt like I was waiting forever,” he admitted.

The two of you started in sync out the gate and turned left onto the main road.

“It felt like an eternity just to get to you. I have Mrs. Chun’s chemistry class for the last period. The classroom is pretty far.”

“Mhm, like on a planet far far away.”

Your eyes rolled up to look at him. The affection you found in the warmth of his eyes was startling, but not a surprise.

Your mom used to tell you to always be careful with smiling. It caused laugh lines. It helped make crows feet. That smiling was a woman’s secret enemy she never knew about when it came to aging. She told you over and over to be careful who or what you wasted smiles on. Smiling up at him now, Jungkook was definitely worth it just to see him respond with his own.

“Don’t be so dramatic. It’s only, like, one planet away.”

A soft hush of laughter left him as he looked away. His gaze roaming around the street signs and their multiple names before looking back at you.

“Are we going the right way to your place? I just realized I never even asked for your address.”

“Does it matter? I mean, with your leg and all.” You hated yourself for spoiling the moment by bringing it up. You knew it was a touchy subject when it came to his leg for Jungkook. So you weren’t surprised to see that spark of warmth fade ever so slightly from his face. His smile wilted at the edges of his lips before it all but disappeared. “You know I’m sorry I said anything. I shouldn’t have. I mean obviously you know yourself and your limits. You wouldn’t have asked if you weren’t able to do it.”

You were rambling. You were fidgeting and waving your arms around while you talked, because why not? You were doing everything else besides hyperventilating at this point. All you knew was that you felt like a jerk for even bringing it up. When all you wanted was to know he was okay.

You were so lost in the space inside your head and worrying that you didn’t notice him laughing at you. You were mid-arm swing. Inhaling for another round of mouth babble to start asking for forgiveness when he waved for you to stop. A finger tip landing on your lips to quiet the words in your throat by shocking you into silence.

“You really don’t have to apologize so much, Y/N. It’s alright. I understand why you would ask.”

You were tempted to lick his finger away, but it felt too intimate. But so was a finger on the lips. Before you could decide your next move from your internal dilemma, Jungkook solved it for you. His finger detaching from your lips as quickly as it’d come.

“No, you don’t. I’m just worried about you. I know I should trust you to know yourself better, but-“ you did an over exaggerated shrug as you finished: “I’m a worrier.”

“I’m flattered, I have you to worry over me.”

You knew he was teasing you and you couldn’t have been happier. You preferred it to making him sad. Plus, he was back to looking at you like you controlled the stars and oh, what a wonderful look it was.

“You should be. I’ve only got so much extra space up here.”

You tapped your head for added effect and were rewarded with a soft laugh that was followed up by a smile. God, you could get used to this.

“I guess I need to work harder to take up more space.”

“Please, no. Let’s not do that. I need my sanity.”

You couldn’t believe you were doing so well at flirting. Usually, your sarcasm won out and you resorted to awkward winking, but this was definitely an improvement.

“I’m not sure you have much of that left either,” he joked.

You tried to hide your laughter with a scoff. You knew you were failing miserably at being offended. Your mouth fighting too hard to ward off a smile as you playfully bumped your shoulder into his arm. Jungkook was ready for you with his cane digging into the sidewalk to give him extra stability.

“Ya, if I do finally go crazy it’ll be your fault, specifically.”

“I think you’d have a hard time proving that in court. My counter argument would be pretty persuasive.”

You looked at him in shock.

“Court? Wow...that escalated quickly.”

Jungkook nodded his reply. He stopped in front of a bookstore and pointed at a manga in the window. You weren’t too familiar with the title, but it's a cover you’d seen plenty of.

“It would happen as quickly as an infection from a zombie’s bite. It would seem all slow until suddenly you jumped up and tried to eat me.”

You couldn’t keep the amusement off your face as you glanced at him and back down to the manga. A part of you wondering if it was one he’d read before or just wanted to use to make his point.

“Question: why are we together during a zombie outbreak?”

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s because I’ll be walking you home. I’ll try and save you and while feeling all heroic about it, I won’t even realize you’d been bitten until it’s too late.”

The two of you moved away from the bookstore window and began to walk back down the sidewalk. Your mind trying to dissect what he was trying to say, but all it left you with was imagining a zombie version of you trying to take a bite out of him.

“You must watch too much Walking Dead.”

“It’s a good show,” he shrugged.

“Did you know that there’s actually a fungus out there that’s sort of like a zombie infection. It’s called Ophiocordyceps. It basically infects the host and within nine days of infection it takes control of the host's body movements.”

You were still walking and looking around while you spoke. Your fingers running gently over a row of gardenia’s that were planted in carefully placed pots in front of someone’s home. You were aware Jungkook had left your side by the sudden coldness of his absence. You turned to look for him and found him standing a foot away from you. A mixture of astonishment and amusement etched on his face.

“Why do you know something like that? Actually, how do you know something like that?”

His eyes were dancing with curiosity as he moved to fall back into step beside you.

“Let’s just say I like to read. I like strange things and facts. And science is full of both facts and strange things.”

With each small statement you held up a finger. When you ended on the third and final small fact about yourself, you wiggled all three fingers at him. The motion earned you a giant smile that only seemed to grow wider as his head shook slightly back and forth.

“You are the strangest girl.”

“How am I strange?”

“You just told me about a body snatching fungus,” he chuckled. “What other girl is going to do that?”

Jungkook had a point. A very strong point. For all your new found confidence when it came to him, you couldn’t keep the heat from rushing to your face. Or the back of your hands from trying to hide it.

“I would tell you to stop being embarrassed but it’s cute when you blush.”

The two of you came to a complete stop at the crosswalk. The red light blinking to tell you two it wasn’t safe to cross. It felt like a weird metaphor for this moment in your life.

Stop! Do not keep staring back at him as if he strung every star in the sky. Stop! Don’t continue to entertain the thought that he looked like he wanted to kiss you or that you desperately wanted to kiss him back. Stop! Even though you already knew it was too late.

You had plans. It’d all been strategically mapped out in your head until you could read it forwards and backwards to yourself. Do your best to graduate high enough in the percentage range to get into a decent college. Get a degree for a job, it didn’t matter what it was, that made enough money to help your parents. For all your careful planning, none of it had included him and yet, the universe had you both standing at a stoplight looking at each other like there couldn’t be any other reality where you weren’t meant to end up right here. Standing at this exact light and looking at one another like no one else existed.

Luckily, the light changed signaling for you to begin to cross. The mass of bodies that had accumulated behind you began to push you both forward and, reluctantly, broke your gaze free from him. Your brain was scrambling to pick up a conversation you weren’t sure how to resurrect. Your mind too busy daydreaming all the scenarios you would’ve taken in different realities if you were braver. Clearing your throat, you did your best to wipe the thought clean and focus on your current reality.

“If it makes you feel better,” you started your body turning to consider him as you spoke, “the study was only ever done on the tropical ants that resided in the forest. The actual effects and what it could do to humans has never been studied. Yet. But I’m willing to bet it would take longer than nine days for it to take hold of a grown adult's nervous system and larger batches.”

He was looking at you in inspired mock horror. You weren’t sure whether it was a good thing or a bad thing. Or if your unusual fact telling about zombie fungus had completely killed the mood. You got your answer in an excited hush of, “Holy shit it’s like you’re writing your own super villain backstory.”

A smile erupted on your face as you playfully rolled your eyes away from him. It was hard to miss the mischievous glint in his eyes or the way his whole face still swam with the playfulness that lurked underneath his teasing. Jungkook was so alive. A force that required you to hang on or else you would get swept up in him without even realizing it’d happen.

You wondered if this is what falling in love felt like.

“I would make a terrible villain. I’m too clumsy,” you stated. Your weak attempt at downplaying yourself being met with a stern look.

“How clumsy are we talking?”

“Hmm, I would say, ‘Kronk giving the llama potion to Kuzco,’ kind of clumsy.”

A hiss of air whistled between Jungkook’s teeth. A mock look of worry on his face as his hands moved to reposition his bag.

“Can we call that clumsy, though?”

“What else would it be?” You asked.

You could feel the lines grouping together in your forehead just trying to figure out what he was getting at. Jungkook didn’t seem to be in any rush to answer you. The two of you walking a few feet before he must have decided you’d waited long enough for him to reply.

“I always thought Kronk was stupid throughout the whole movie, but really, he was just a good person. He’s a good guy tasked to do a bad thing and he just wants to make people happy. Even if it means doing the wrong thing.”

You wanted to ask if maybe he was talking more about himself than The Emperor’s New Groove at this point. He faced forward with his brow creased in deep thought and whatever it was that held his thoughts didn’t appear to be anything good.

“Or,” you started, voice light enough to drag him out of his head, “it’s just a kids movie.”

Sure, Jungkook was looking at you, but he didn’t seem to actually see you. Somewhere inside his head, he was reenacting or seeing something that ate up all the sunshine that lived in his bones. It felt silly to feel a sense of panic about something that might not even be true. And yet, you couldn’t stop the awful thought that sadness was trying to make a home inside his soul.

Without giving it another thought you reached up and pretended to wipe away a pretend rogue eyelash from his cheek. The suddenness of your fingers brushing on his skin jolted him from wherever his thoughts had held him hostage and back into the present. His eyes darted around your face and his own hand came up to gently take yours.

“Sorry.” Your words came out breathy as you struggled not to focus on how he was practically holding your hand. “There was an eyelash. The wind must have blown it away.”

The earlier sadness that’d hollowed out his eyes was gone. What replaced it was one of knowing you weren’t telling the truth. His head tilted slightly down to inspect your empty finger of the proof you knew your words didn’t have whose eyes sparked with his usual teasing and something else. Something that left a different kind of heat flooding your cheeks.

“I’m sure there was.”

Reluctantly, you removed your hand from his and continued to walk. It only took him a couple seconds to fall effortlessly into step beside you making you wonder if his leg was as injured as it seemed.

A warm silence swelled around you as you continued to walk. A comfortable pace setting between you as he looked in the windows of every store you passed in between the changing streets. He never once asked if you were getting close to your home or how much farther it might be. It was like the moment on the back of the bus. The two of you enjoyed that the other was there without ever feeling the need to say it.

But you knew it was soon coming to an end. In only a few blocks, you’d be home and your fairytale moment would end. You were struggling on how to break this, more to yourself than Jungkook, when you noticed he pulled a Nikon camera from the side of his bag. He was squinting through the lens and taking photos of something up ahead. Of the landscape or the people and buildings that framed it you weren’t sure.

He must have sensed your silent question as he snapped a few more quick photos before turning to acknowledge you.

“Y/N, I have a serious question for you.”

It was hard to keep the amusement off your face as you both came to a stop. The place felt random, but it was anything but that to Jungkook. Whatever he saw in this space you both inhabited must have felt like magic to him.

“Okay. Shoot.”

“Do you think we have enough time for me to take some photos?”

It felt like such an odd request. Why should anyone have to ask to do something that they loved? Jungkook didn’t fully say he loved doing it, but no one spent that much money on a nice camera if it wasn’t something they enjoyed doing. The look on his face was just an added bonus of proving your answer meant something. One that made you wonder why he felt like he needed your permission at all. And then it hit you: he wanted to stay in your company while he did it.

You considered teasing him, but he looked too vulnerable standing there. You weren’t even sure if he was breathing. A pleading in his eyes that reminded you of a child asking a mother to go on just one more ride before they were forced to go home. You considered giving him the bad news that you had more than homework to do when you arrived home. But that could come another day. On this day, with him, you could spare an hour just to make him happy.

Instead of coming right out and letting him know you’d made up your mind, you decided to play coy. A soft, “Hmm,” hummed around you as you looked everywhere but him. Your index finger tapping on your lips for dramatic flare.

"Ok," You shrugged. "I think I have some free time I could spare."

His eyes squinted in question as you moved to stand in front of him. The movement simply to let a couple go by in peace, but somehow placed you closer in front of him. Jungkook’s gaze was roaming your face to find an answer to a question he hadn’t yet asked.

“You planned on saying yes this whole time, didn’t you. You were just trying to make me suffer waiting for you to answer.”

You gasped in pretend shock and did your best not to smile at his accusations. By the growing smile on his face you knew you were failing miserably.

“Me?! I would never do such a thing.”

“You’re secretly a sadist!”

Jungkook’s smile only widened as a scoff of disbelief passed from your lips. Your own smile grew to match his own when his hands lifted up his camera. Seconds later the sound of the shutter clicked and you felt your soul leave your body. The earlier playfulness was swiftly swept in your own dark cloud and the idea you probably looked hideous in that photo.

“Oh god, Jungkook delete it,” you pleaded.

Your hands were reaching out to grab tightly at this shirt. Your fingers curled in the white fabric until there was a small chance you could tear holes. The camera in question was being held far from your reach. His hand easily held it above his shoulder as he used one hand to steady you against him. You’d invaded his space without even realizing, but you had no time to be embarrassed. Not when he had a picture of you forever saved on that camera.

“Why would I delete it?”

He was his usual amused self you could tell, but he wasn’t egging you on. His question was out of curiosity. His own eyes brimming with it as you considered keeping one hand tightly wound in his shirt and the other to jump up and reach for the camera.

“Because Jungkook I’m not cute. You’ll be lucky if it doesn’t ruin the camera.”

All his earlier playfulness drained from his face and what was left made you instantly feel like you were about to be scolded. His hand that had firmly planted itself on your hip was achingly apparent now as his fingers gripped you closer to him. Your own awareness at how close you actually were to his chest made your lips feel dry. Your tongue flicked out to wet them and god, it took everything in you not to focus on the fact his eyes had followed the movement.

“Y/N, why would you say that? You shouldn’t let anyone talk down about you, and you shouldn’t do it to yourself either. You’re beautiful.”

He spoke like it was a fact. A statement that not just the two of you knew, but the universe did too. And what were you supposed to say back? While you were held captive to the thought he was still looking from you to your lips. The determination for you to understand his words and believe them setting soft lines in his face. You tried to keep looking at him, but under his watchful gaze you couldn’t keep yourself from fidgeting. Your eyes moved down the line of his body until it landed on the tops of your shoes.

You weren’t sure what to say back. Thank you didn’t fit here. It didn’t feel like a moment where he was trying to boost your confidence the way a friend did. This felt more like someone who noticed something in you while you hadn’t been looking.

So instead of saying anything remotely clever back you began to dislodge yourself from him. Your hands releasing their hold on his shirt and forcing his hand off of your hip. Standing there with only inches between you, your body was achingly aware that his hand was gone. It’s weight leaving a burning of longing to have it back forced your hands into your pockets and your body turning away from him. You waited for him to start moving back down the road. The motion forced him to either join you or stay where he was.

“We should get going before we run out of time.”

You hated yourself for dismissing him. For not being bolder like you’d promised yourself earlier in the day. It would’ve been the perfect time to thank him. To tell him how you were pretty sure there wasn’t a soul on earth more attractive than him, but that what made him beautiful is what he refused to let people see. The soft tone of his voice still singing along to the songs on the back of the bus had ended up being an unspoken lullaby when you’d gone to sleep.

A part of you considered turning on your heel and telling him this. To tell him that you saw him; actually saw him for who he was and not who he felt like he needed to be. But you just kept moving forward and weren’t surprised when Jungkook found a steady rhythm back beside you.

The both of you stayed quiet. This time it felt more forced than the easiness of earlier. Like the two of you had so many missed starts at creating a conversation that neither of you could understand why it ended.

You watched him as he focused on the area around him. His camera training on an old couple who sat waiting for the next bus. The husband had clutched his wife’s arm close to his side. In his hands he was peeling what appeared to be an orange and with each freshly peeled slice, he gave one to her and one to himself. No one knew what they were conversing about, but it didn’t matter. To them, they were the only two people there. The wholesomeness of the moment made you wonder what they were like back in their youth.

You listened to the flutter of the shutter click repeatedly. His hand twisting on the lens to bring it in and out of focus, while he himself remained deadly focused on capturing their moment in time. You were curious how the photos would turn out in the end and wished there was a way to show them how their love translated on film.

You were in the middle of watching Jungkook turn his attention to a couple birds inside a cherry blossom when he spoke.

“Thank you for agreeing to walk with me while I do this.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Jungkook.”

A sad smile curled his lips as he dropped his camera down in front of him. His thumb skimmed over the buttons to quickly go through what he’d previously taken. The last one he landed on made his entire face light up and you felt a pang of jealousy at what it could be. How you wish he would look at you like that.

“Maybe, but I feel like I do. Ever since my accident, my appa hasn’t been able to force me into things. For once, I get to just do what I want. Sucks it only had to cost me a friend and a leg to get some freedom.”

Your feet had carried you to the next stop sign. The sudden halt in moving forced you to look at him, really look at Jungkook, like you’d never seen him before.

He wasn’t looking at you now. His ears a screaming red while his fingers danced over every part of the camera. His eyes roaming over its edges and flicking too fast through pictures to actually even be looking at them. For the first time since you’d met him Jungkook was scared to look at you. Scared for what you might see if you did.

Looking at him now, you couldn’t have been happier to indulge him. You’d indulge him for the rest of your life if he’d let you.

“Well, I’m happy to be of service.”

You mentally smacked yourself at your choice of words. Jungkook, however, was backing to his beaming self as he finally glanced in your direction. His eyeing ate up your embarrassment as it was your turn to face forward. Your feet hopping in place as you waited for the light to flash it was okay to walk.

“I’m supposed to be at physical therapy right now.”

“Wait, what?”

The light was flickering finally for you to all move. Your feet moved to carry you forward unintentionally, just to keep with the flow of traffic, as Jungkook gave you a small shrug for an answer.

“Did you say you were supposed to be at physical therapy?”

Another shrug and another long pause with no answer. It seemed he had been waiting for you to round the corner onto a quieter pedestrian free street before he replied, “After school. I have appointments almost everyday and I never go.”

“But why? It’s meant to help you get better, isn’t it?”

“Get better to do what, exactly?” He huffed. Jungkook’s entire body took on a broodier tone. His cane practically dug small holes with each press into the pavement. “Who even says that I can get better?”

“Well, doctors for one,” you pointed out. “I’m sure they wouldn’t have signed you up for it if they didn’t believe you could get better.”

“If I was going to get better it would’ve happened already.”

It felt like walking on eggshells. This side of Jungkook was the boy you’d met on his first day of class. His guarded demeanor up on high alert, as he kept his gaze stoically forward and his chin held high.

“You’re not an idiot, Jungkook. You know injuries take time to heal from. It doesn't just magically happen overnight.”

“Who says that I want to get better?”

The coldness in his words forced your legs to stop working. Your feet were unable to move as he continued to push on ahead of you. His own movements became slower now as the long walk was beginning to take its toll on his leg. He knew you weren’t beside him anymore and still he tried to keep pushing forward, before eventually he had no other choice but to turn around.

The look on his face was as defiant as ever. Underneath that defiance was a sadness so raw you only wanted to reach out and hold him. If just to remind him that he was seen and that his pain mattered.

That’s when the realization hit you.

“Unless you feel like you deserve this.”

The stone façade he’d worked so hard to create in the past few minutes began to chip. His eyes being the first to show by the soft uprising of tears that you were right. Somewhere deep inside Jungkook believed that he deserved what happened to him. That this was punishment for losing a friend at his own hands, even if it wasn’t his fault to begin with.

The tears that threatened to spill never did, but they were there. They floated dangerously at the surface of Jungkook’s control and he refused to let go. The rawness of his pain hit you and all you wanted was to help ease it. You weren’t sure if he would accept any kind of affection, even in a small hug. So your only option was to move closer to him. As close as he would allow without pushing you away.

With each step you could see his jaw clenching tighter; pulsing like he was fighting from saying something wicked to send you skirting back. He was just as afraid of what you were about to do as you were at being the one to do it.

When the tips of your shoes nudged against his you drew your eyes up until they landed on his. A spark of something; fear or uncertainty, flashed in his eyes. Was he expecting you to be cruel? To yell at him to stop being a child and to grow up? How much had he already heard those words shouted by adults? How long had he been standing there like this, in a world full of grief, and no one there to pull him out to breathe before the next wave suffocated him once more.

You weren’t sure if it was you or if what you said would matter, but it was important he heard it. It was important he knew that this was okay too.

“You got to forgive yourself sometime, Jungkook.”

The words themselves were simple. Simple and spoken between you as if there was a secret meant only for the two of you to hear. All you really wanted was for him to feel the sincerity of your words for him to know it was okay. Okay to feel sad, unsure, and helpless at times when all the world felt against you. It was okay to not know your first steps and okay to take those first steps when you were ready. Eventually, we needed to forgive, if only to give ourselves the chance to heal and move on.

His gaze was still misty with unshed tears and still they refused to fall. The pain and defiance that had turned his features harsh began to soften. All that hardness he struggled to keep himself in and others out was beginning to fade and the only thing left was him. All that sunshine that you’d seen lived in his smile and echoed in his laughter that crinkled in the corners of his eyes. The way he cared for others and making them feel cared for. The softness of his singing and the way he eagerly filmed people at their most vulnerable: at their most beautiful.

It was at this moment you felt your universe shift and tip until it realigned itself. With your fingers back to holding the edges of his shirt it took everything in you not to close those final inches and hug him. Jungkook closed that distance for you instead.

His lips crashing down on your cheeks causing a soft squeak of surprise to push free from your lips. A chuckle came as he came back into view and your mind struggled to comprehend what happened.

It wasn’t a kiss on the lips but…

“Did you just kiss my cheek?”

Your hand was up to the aforementioned spot. A wicked smile wiping away all of his sadness until you weren’t sure if it had been real at all or if you’d imagined it.

“I could kiss your lips if you’d like that instead.”

If your cheeks could get any hotter you could’ve fried food on them. You felt a surge of disappointment when Jungkook took a reluctant step back from you as his eyes dropped to check the time on his phone.

“As much as I hate to say this: I have to go.”

“All of the sudden you have to go,” you huffed.

Your words felt brave, but inside your heart was thundering wildly against your chest.

“I could stay if you want?”

Smoother than expected, Jungkook slid his way back to you. His chest bumping against you making you lose your footing just enough that it forced you to grab on to his shirt. Jungkook’s own hand had moved behind your back to steady you and bring you closer to him all at once.

You playfully smacked his chest and earned a soft laugh from him. Unfortunately, you found yourself peeling away from him. Your hands grasping at the strap of your bag to keep them from reaching back out for him.

“Not a chance.”

Your reply earned a playful pout from him as he started walking backwards away from you.

“I’ll remember that, Y/N!”

You rolled your eyes and turned around to start walking the rest of the way home. You didn’t get more than a few feet before he called back to you. Your eyes found him instantly in a crowd of people that continued to pass in front of him.

“I forgot to ask: what’s your number!”

He held up a pen expecting you to come back to him and write it down presumably on his arm or hand. You didn’t see any paper and could only assume. You knew it was all just a ploy to get you to come to him. The knowledge evident by the wicked grin on his face.

“You’re a math wiz, right?” Jungkook was perplexed for a second before you started reciting your number as loud as you were willing to shout it. The wind blew it away as he no doubt struggled to listen.

“Wow! What a way to play dirty.”

“If it’s meant to be you’ll figure it out.”

And maybe that was true. Maybe you both had a chance to write your own love story like from the movies and shows you used to watch with your mom. Like Rose and Jack from Titanic or Ross and Rachel...okay...maybe more like Chandler and Monica. Or maybe you were an idiot and should’ve just gone and wrote it down. It was too late now as he was already on the other side of the street.

You were ready to walk the rest of the way kicking yourself for being so lame when you heard him call your name again. When you turned you didn’t expect him to be trotting across the road. You didn’t expect him to stop in front of you and give you another quick kiss on the cheek, this one gentler than before, with every fiber of your body remembering just how soft his lips felt.

“I could fall in love with you, ya know.”

You watched as in the same breath he hopped back across the street and couldn’t help but think you already had.

————-

Later that night you were snuggled up inside the sheets of your bed. The only thing sticking out was the current book you were reading and the top of your head.

You hadn’t heard from Jungkook the rest of the day. Your heart hammered inside your chest every time your phone chimed with a new message only to deflate when you realized it wasn’t him. You loved your friends and all, but they weren’t who you’d been looking forward to all evening.

Maybe you should’ve just gone to him and written down your number. Like a normal human being would’ve done. You just had to be clever and yell it out like a lunatic. For all you knew, you could end up with a random stranger texting you at all hours.

Your current book that you were supposed to be reading but couldn’t really read because you couldn’t focus was now face planted onto your nose. A soft groan echoing into its pages as you fought not to close it and throw it somewhere in your room. You were a hundred percent sure you’d read the same sentence a few dozen times at this point.

In the morning, you decided, you most definitely were just going to write it down. Like a sane person would’ve done. You closed your book and placed it down beside you. Your eyes roaming up to stare at your ceiling and wondering if you were ever actually going to go to sleep when your phone chimed off.

You weren’t in any hurry to look. It could just be your parents from the restaurant making sure you were in bed. It could be one of your friends asking about making plans this weekend. It was probably still everyone but Jungkook and yet…

Your curiosity got the better of you. You shuffled inside your comforter, reached an arm out to grab your phone from the nightstand, and quickly pulled it back inside. You waited for your facial ID to unlock the screen to see who or what you’d received. Your own mind hyping up the suspense of the moment until it read over a reminder text from your dad about your chores for the upcoming weekends.

You hated you’d let yourself have even a glimmer of hope. It was official. You’d ruined your chances when it came to giving out your number. A groan was creeping its way up your throat as you quickly sent back a text. You knew your chores took over almost every weekend. Even when you’d made plans with friends, you’d ended up never going.

As soon as you’d hit send you were rolling over to put your phone back on your nightstand. The shrill sound of pinging messages stopped you cold. There was no way your dad had learned to text back that fast. You laid yourself flat back against the mattress and brought the phone to hover above your face.

Y/N?

Is this the right number finally?

Hello?!!

If this is the wrong person, I’m sorry. I swear I’m not crazy. Just looking for a girl.

Your heart leapt into your throat. It was beating so hard you were scared it would burst from your chest. Your eyes were still skimming over the line of text messages when another one sounded. You were so caught up in reading the next line you weren’t aware your clammy fingers had let the phone slip and it crash landed down on your face.

“Ooow!”

One hand scrambled to pick it back up off your face, while the other massaged the now swelling brim of your nose.

How many people have you texted before me?

There wasn’t a need to send a hi. To give him a coy response to continue to tease him or make him believe he’d gotten it wrong again. Your curiosity at the desperate way he seemed to have been looking for you was endearing. The thought that he’d spent so much time sending out random messages for a response, no matter how crazy he looked, felt silly but cute too.

Jungkook thought you were worth the trouble.

OH MY GOD IS IT REALLY YOU?! And maybe like... seventeen.

You snuggled deeper into your comforter as a soft giggle joined the growing smile across your face.

I’m sorry I should have just wrote it down when you offered the pen lol

It definitely would’ve made it a lot easier.

You’d asked yourself that question all evening while you’d waited for him. You bit your lips as your fingers hovered over the keyboard. Unsure if you should take the chance and tell him.

“Screw it,” you whispered as you typed.

Took you long enough. I’ve been waiting forever.

Well, I’m sorry to keep you waiting. This girl thought it was a good idea to shout random numbers at me 😅😂.

Your head was shaking as you tried to figure out something witty to say. You couldn’t believe you were here. Inside your comforter cave smiling at your phone like a lunatic and wondering if maybe Jungkook was doing the same. Or what was he even doing? You were getting ready to type out that exact question when your phone pinged to life.

So, ugh, on to more important matters. It read. I was thinking about your love of random facts and I think I got one for you.

Ooooooo kekeke this should be good

Do you want to know it or not?

Okay okay! Lol please tell me Kookie

You could practically feel him screaming through your phone as a sideways glance emoji was sent back in a long lined response. You wondered if you’d completely ruined his fact telling when your phone went off.

I found this article that said the chances of finding your soulmate out of 500,000,000 people was impossible. But, if you just place it to where you are, to your age group, and timing it narrows it down to a 1 in 10,000 chance. What I’m trying to get at is...I think your my 1 in 10,000

You read the message on repeat. Over and over until you were sure you’d practically memorized it front and back. You wanted to ask him for his source material. Where such an article could exist. None of that really mattered to you and how could it?

You must have spaced out because you never sent him a reply. Your thoughts were still spinning in a world all their own as you wondered if he was sitting at his desk doing homework or lying in bed. If he was inside or outside and what had made him so brave to send that message: believing you felt the same.

The vibration of the phone brought you back down to earth. You expected to see question marks or another line of, “Hello?” To have left him on read. Instead, the only thing that greeted you was a simple, Goodnight, Y/N.

This time there was no hesitation from you.

Goodnight, Jungkook

See you in the morning ?

His text felt so hopeful. A silent undertone that if you said no there was a chance you’d break him. You bit your lip as you thought about what this meant. The beginning of small promises that eventually grew into bigger ones.

I’ll meet you at the gate

You both finished up with another round of good night’s that felt like the embarrassing texting equivalent of “no you hang up! No you!” And placed your phone back on your night stand. It took forever for the sandman to finally claim you. Your dreams consisting of the magic of being Jungkook’s 1 in 10,000.

313 notes · View notes

nikethestatue · 3 years

Text

Just Breathe

Of Fawns and Shadows

Chapter 7 I know it’s been 3 weeks, but this is almost 60 pages and 23,000 words!

Summary:

The twins teach Elain something about the brothers, and Illyrian males

Elain flexes her magical muscle

We learn much more about Azrie’s background and his mother

Some Prythian history is explained

Elain pleasures Azriel in a variety of ways that he enjoys

Heavy NSFW elements

This is a long chapter, but also is a set up for many things that will happen in the future, hints are dropping like bombs!

Tell me what you think. I love reading comments and reactions.

Just Breathe

“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.”

Pabo Neruda

Elain woke up groggy and tired. ‘Woke up’ was probably the wrong term, because she barely slept at all last night.

Yesterday, after the four of them woke up after their impromptu nap, Azriel took her back to the orphanage and stupidly, she almost cried. They stood at the gates, swathed in his shadows to keep the two of them from prying eyes.

He stroked her hair, then her face, brushing his thumbs over her cheekbones, as he murmured endearments to her.

“Do you want me to come to the River House for dinner tonight?” he asked, hoping to placate her before she unraveled in front of him. But she shook her head stubbornly and pressed her lips to the inside of his palm.

“They are leaving tomorrow,” he reminded her, and then leaned in and gently kissed her neck. “And you should wear a scarf,” he chuckled.

“I think that I left it at the House,” she looked around, suddenly feeling lost.

She was returning to the real world, at least for tonight, and it’s not where she wanted to be. She didn’t want to live her regular boring life. She wasn’t interested in going back home after her time with the children, then possibly meeting with city planners, while Feyre and Rhys smiled at her politely, their expressions telling--they were indulging the strange sister who had her singular interests. In exchange for their tolerance, she cooked and baked, and looked after their estate, now that Feyre was busy with their boy. How did she, Elain, become the odd, spinster sister? She didn’t know.

Up until two days ago, she was utterly miserable. Every day, she’d wake up hating her life, the monotony of it all, while cursing herself for being so selfish and ungrateful. She was living a comfortable, well-tended life where she lacked nothing, where she had people who cared for her, where she could make herself useful, and where she wasn’t burdened by societal expectations. Despite all that, inside, she was hollow. Only her children brought a spark of joy into her life, her children, and the shy, pointless glimpses at Azriel, whenever she managed to lay her eyes on him. Her damn bond pushed and pressured, though over the past few years she’s become accustomed to it, to its tug, its phantom presence which floated inside of her.

She held Azriel’s hand in hers, unwilling to let go. He kept stroking her face, his thumb on her lips, under her eyes, over her chin and nose.

“Don’t be sad, emani,” he begged. “I hate leaving you like this.”

She wasn’t going to lie to him and say that she was just fine. She wasn’t.

She wanted her life with him, where it was the two of them and happiness. Was she envious of Cassian and Nesta? Of their wild, passionate, maddening devotion to each other? Perhaps. But she didn’t want what they had. She wanted her own.

“Ahh, I want to come in,” muttered Azriel, looking longingly at the crazily-painted building.

She chuckled sadly, “If you do, they won’t let you go.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be let go.”

He looked down at her, into her sad eyes the colour of amber and then leaned to kiss her hair.

“I will see you tomorrow,” he promised.

She kissed his hand and then he watched her walk inside the gates.

Something empty and cold settled inside his stomach.

It was late when Elain was walking home. She opted to eat dinner with the children, and then they all had story time and finally, she helped with nighttime rituals of bathing, dressing, tucking and hugging.

Lex floated next to her, its presence suddenly a comfort to her. She never thought about, never considered that she was unsafe here, in Velaris, but when she turned around, she noticed a trail of shadows. To an untrained eye, they were just that--shadows that spread over walls of the buildings, the cobblestones beneath, stretching and moving the way all shadows did. But now, they were her friends. Her protectors. They were not just an empty, thoughtless, natural entity, but a mysterious sentient thing that cared for her, because its master cared for her.

“Lex, what do you like?” she asked, surprising herself. She wasn’t intent on having a conversation with a shadow.

“I like stars,” said Lex simply.

“Stars? That’s beautiful, Lex. But why?”

“Because that’s where I am from. Stardust. The song of the wind and stars created us. Here, we were born at dusk. There were so many of us once before, free to roam and live at dusk, amidst the oncoming darkness and the fading light. Now, there are very few left,”

“Where did the shadows go?”

“Dusk left and the shadows left with it. Only a few remain now. The master and those who serve him.”

“Are you talking about Azriel?” she was confused. Lex was prone to wax lyrical and talk too much, or too little.

“Yes, lord Azriel. My master. The last master of all shadows.”

“Hmm,”

“So I am here, with you and my master. Until maybe we return to the dusk with my master. Maybe with you too.”

Elain had no idea what Lex was rambling about, so she let it drop.

With the shadows slithering behind her, she felt safe, protected even, so she walked slower than usual, taking in the evening sights and sounds. Envious again. Envious of all this life around her. Life that bubbled and spilled on the sidewalks; laughing Fae stumbling from bars and public houses, distinguished couples out on their evening walk, lovers holding each other’s gazes and bodies, not seeing and not caring about anyone else. But she...she was invisible. Not because of the shadows, but because that’s what she’d become. Elain the Beautiful. Kingslayer. She now trudged quietly and lonesomely down the streets, wondering when in the world she became a shadow herself? A shadow of her former self, an invisible entity that no one paid attention to?

The human Elain did not want this sort of life--she enjoyed the balls and the outings, she enjoyed attention and beautiful things, lovely gowns, male company and compliments. And the Fae Elain wasn’t sure if that changed very much--he still liked parties and balls, and nice dresses and dancing. She didn’t want to be quiet and lonesome and obscure. She wanted to glow and sparkle and love and live with adventures and travels.

She felt a beast of wonder prowling under her skin. A beast that wanted to unleash and see the world turned, and reforged. She felt the beast, but feared it--it was her new Fae self, this untamed wild thing that the Cauldron gifted her. She didn’t know what it was, and why it was there, but it beckoned and seduced her with its presence and the thoughts that she had.

By the time she got home, Feyre and Rhys already retired for the night and she walked to her suite. She sat down on her bed, looking around.

“Go to sleep, Lex,” she said.

“I am not tired.”

“Then do whatever you want,” she plopped down on the bed, and looked up at the ceiling.

“Why are you sad?” inquired Lex.

“You are the shadow, you tell me,” she muttered, annoyed.

“You are in love with the master.”

“Very astute observation,” she said tartly.

“Master is not rude like you,” noted Lex.

She threatened, “I am going to ask the master for a different shadow.”

“No you won’t. I am going to sleep.”

For something that shouldn’t have had emotions, Lex sure seemed like he was angry.

There was a knock on the door just as soon as Elain changed and put on her robe. The last thing she wanted to do right now was to talk to Feyre, but she hid her grimace and said ‘come in”.

To her great relief, it wasn’t her sister who stood at the door, but the grinning wraiths. What’s more, Cerridwen held a bottle of brandy and a glass, while Nuala held two glasses, which she raised as a peace offering and an invitation.

Elain burst out laughing.

“You seemed in a right mood tonight,” grumbled Cerridwen, as she pushed past Elain and made her way to the small sitting room.

“So we came to cheer you up!” Nuala followed her sister.

...Thirty minutes later, the three of them were deep into the bottle, buzzed and laughing.

“Aww,” Elain rubbed her temples. “I am not used to drinking every night! I got drunk yesterday,”

They snickered and Nuala winked, “we know!”

Elain blushed, remembering that one of them had been to Azriel’s house to deliver her clothes and toiletries. They knew where she spent the night.

“So,” Cerridwen, stretched out on the sofa, was sipping her drink slowly. Among the three of them, she was an expert at holding her liquor. “Did all that pining between the two of you amount to anything?” she inquired bluntly.

Elain blushed and mumbled about being given a shadow.

Cerridwen rolled her dark eyes and shook her head, “Honey, that’s not what I wanted to hear. Is he any good? As good as they say he is?”

Confused, Elain nodded, “he is good. He is very nice.”

Cerridwen bubbled her lips, shaking her head. Nuala smiled into her glass and said, “Elain, what my sister is so rudely trying to ascertain is whether you’ve made love. I am going to go with a ‘no’, but,”

“No!” exclaimed Elain, blushing profusely.

The three of them had discussed males, and bedding them, without going into explicit details, but this was different. While Cerridwen preferred women, but also enjoyed discussing males and their ‘shortcomings’, Nuala was, used to be, Azriel’s lover.

“Elain, I don’t care,” assured her Nuala, seeing the panicked discomfort on Elain’s face. She waved her hand, “it’s in the past. Whatever happened,”

“So you can go and jump his bones!” encouraged Cerridwen, raising her glass in a salute.

Still hot, from embarrassment and alcohol, Elain murmured, “it’s not like that...We haven’t,”

“Well, why not?” shrugged Cerridwen. “With those wings of his, he ought to know what he is doing,”

Elain’s brow furrowed. “His wings? what do the wings have to do with anything?”

The twins exchanged meaningful glances, and Nuala laid her head on Elain’s lap, saying, “El, there is still much that you don’t know…”

Elain recalled all the offhand comments that her sisters, Mor, and even Amren had made about wings over the years. The knowing glances and the smirks.

“Is it something sexual?” she sighed at last.

“Of course it’s something sexual!” cried Cerridwen with a laugh. “Have you touched his wings?”

“Why would I touch his wings?”

“Just try it,” encouraged Cerridwen, “see how he reacts!”

“Don’t,” Nuala shook her head, and then pointed an admonishing finger to her sister, “you stop that!”

“Why?!” laughed Cerridwen.

“Elain,” Nuala stroked Elain’s hand, “don’t listen to her. And don’t touch an Illyrian’s wings without permission. They are...sensitive,”

“I thought because it hurts them,” started Elain.

“Oh no. It certainly doesn’t hurt them.”

Elain shrugged. “So, that’s the big deal? Their wings are sensitive to touch?”

“Nu, tell her!” pleaded Cerridwen.

Elain looked down at the sprawled Nuala with expectation.

“It’s the size, honey,” finally blurted Cerridwen, choking on her laughter, “the bigger the wings, the bigger,”

“The cock,” concluded Nuala.

“What?” Elain snapped, blushing deeply. Feyre’s comment from earlier today came back to haunt her. “You two are just teasing me,” she folded her arms on her chest, “it’s not true! You are just saying this because you know that I haven’t been with a Fae male,”

“And what a fine Fae male you’ll get to be with,” Cerridwen whistled and Nuala smiled.

“Well, I am sure that Cassian is,” she began, but Nuala interrupted, shaking her head,

“Oh no. Cassian wants to be the biggest,”

“But our shadowsinger got him beat by a margin,” said Cerridwen meaningfully. “A measurable margin.”

“And Rhysand?” Elain blurted, immediately regretting her outburst. Oh gods. Now she was going to be walking around and eyeing the males’ wings!

“The High Lord,” said Nuala, “possesses a High Fae endowment.”

Elain waited, knowing that they weren’t done. So Nuala added, “The Illyrians are naturally,”

“Better equipped,” supplied Cerridwen. “Why do you think that the High Fae hate them so much?”

“And some Illyrians exceed even Illyrian expectations, like a certain shad-,”

Elain buried her face in her hands, yelling ‘stop it, stop it, stop it!”

The sisters were laughing at her. “Don't tell me this!” she exclaimed. “I have to face him! What am I supposed to think about now?”

“Probably his cock,” offered Cerridwen unhelpfully.

“Ugh, I hate you both!” she moaned.

Nuala slid her arm around her and butted her shoulder, “Well, take consolation in that he knows what he is doing!”

“Well, I would hope that at 500 years old, he’d know what he is doing,” groaned Elain.

Cerridwen gave her a look. “Hmmm. Don’t bet on it. Males don’t always learn...”

“539,” said Nuala casually.

Elain glanced at her. “What?”

“He is 539 years old. He will be turning 540 soon.”

“When is soon?

“Imbolc,” said Cerridwen. “He and Cassian celebrate it together.”

Elain sat up, asking, “They were born on the same day?”

“Azriel was born on Imbolc.”

“I don’t know what that is,” Elain admitted.

“A holiday to celebrate the Mother. It’s halfway between Solstice and Spring Equinox. It’s a lovely little holiday, without much fanfare...Anyway, he will be 540. Cassian will be 539.”

“But they were born on the same day??”

Cerridwen, despite the alcohol, became serious, almost wistful.

“Well...No one knows when Cassian was born. He was taken from his mother so young and the records were lost, if there was ever even a record of his birth. So, from what we’ve gathered, when they were boys, they’d celebrate together, since Cassian was also born in the winter. After they survived and won the Blood Rite, Azriel offered Cassian his birth day--so they’d always share it together. So ever since they were boys, they’ve celebrated their birth day on Imbolc.”

So, Elain woke up groggy and tired. ‘Woke up’ was probably the wrong term, because she barely slept at all last night. Her head was heavy with the aftermath of the drinking, though she paced herself last night, and wasn’t suffering, unlike yesterday. She knew there wouldn’t be a tonic prepared thoughtfully for her and waiting on the sink counter, so she exercised self-control and let the twins drink. She even promised to make breakfast today, for Cerridwen begged her, knowing that there would be a price to pay for their late night shenanigans.

Sleeping alone, without Azriel, even after only two nights together, was strange. At least three times during the night, she caught herself reaching for him, for the feel of his hard, warm body in bed with her, only to find cool sheets. It unsettled her. Was she being needy and so dependent on him too quickly? Or was it something else? Was it the Mother, or the Cauldron telling her that she was correct to seek him out--to search for him in her sleep, and when she was awake, and that it was right to need him and want him?

The house was still quiet, the servants moving silently about the wide corridors, dusting and wiping and watering pants, and curtsying in front of Elain, which was not something she wanted them to do, but they insisted. She snuck into the nursery.

“Good morning, my baby boy,” she cooed at Nyx, who was sitting in his crib, playing with Brute, waiting to be picked up. He knew his aunt was the first one who usually got him roused in the morning, and the moment she entered, he was up, holding onto the slats of the crib, his little wings fluttering excitedly.

It took Elain a bit of time to learn how to hold him properly, and the wings, their delicate soft bones, their thin, silky membrane scared her and made her terribly nervous.

By the time Nyx was about to be born, Azriel ‘allowed’ himself back in the house. The relationship between him and Rhys was still strained and oftentimes tense, aggression simmering beneath their skin, that Fae male call for dominance still very much present when they were together. But Azriel, for the sake of other relationships, for the love of the Inner Circle, kept his rage in check, as he always tended to do. But there was happiness, there was a new and beautiful life that came about after so much strife and sorrow and danger that it would be petty and dishonest not to celebrate it. So Nyx was responsible for patching things up between the adults, at least on the surface.

That day, after the brutal birth and Nesta’s sacrifice, Feyre finally fell asleep, with Rhys by her side. Nesta was recovering, and Cassian was freaking out, worrying about everybody. He and Mor were running around, arranging for things and taking care of formalities, but Elain was left to oversee Nyx. That’s how they bonded, Nyx and his aunt, who loved him from the moment he emerged into the world. But she was scared to pick him up, unsure of what to do with the wings, and how to position him in the crook of her arm.

“Like that,” said Azriel softly, emerging from the shadows, watching her try to pick the baby up. His scarred hands gingerly cradled Nyx, and then he laid him into Elain’s waiting arms. “Make sure that the wings drape over your arm, like this,” and he showed her. Nyx settled at once, quiet and content. “Perfect,” Azriel almost smiled. “You are a natural with an Illyrian babe.”

Those words haunted Elain to this day.

“Lana!” Nyx yelled, lifting his arms in the air. She picked him up, and he threw his short arms around her in their morning greeting. She changed him, dressed him and then, following his command ‘Boot!’ grabbed Brute and went downstairs.

But she soon became aware that she wasn’t the only one awake.

Passing by Rhysand’s office, she heard familiar voices--the three males. Colour flooded her cheeks as she quickly scurried by the door, hoping that they wouldn't hear her and she could avoid them. After last night’s conversation about the wings and the wingspans and all those other things, she really had no desire to face them. Had no desire to stand before them and sneak peeks at their wings and compare.

However, as soon as she put Nyx down in the kitchen, a dark shadow tapped on the reeses of her mind and she allowed him in. ‘Elain, please join us in the study,’ said Rhysand. Before she could even respond, he added, ‘His nanny is coming.” Unsurprisingly, Nyx’s nanny appeared in the kitchen the next moment. Elain greeted her with a forced smile and then walked to the office. She smoothed her skirt before entering, without knocking.

The three males were standing around the desk, all had their arms folded on their chests. What in the seven hells did she walk into? Cassian looked at her, his eyebrow arched and then smiled his spectacular smile and somehow, immediately, eased her worries.

“‘Morning baby girl!” He greeted her, and then went to hug and kiss her cheek, when Rhys cleared his throat. A formal conversation then. No room for informalities. Elain therefore, reached on her tiptoes and kissed Cassian’s cheek. “Good morning, Cass!” she said cheerfully, and then with great pretend indifference she inclined her head towards Azriel. “Az.” He was in full uniform, which jolted her somehow, for she was used to seeing him in normal, civilian clothes lately. Him in uniform always made her a little uneasy.

“What are you doing here, petal?” asked Cassian.

“I asked Elain to join us,” explained Rhys. Perhaps for her sake, he went behind the desk and sat down. Crowded by three enormous Illyrians, she looked like a tiny flower in a dark forest. Azriel and Cassian were the same height and she only reached under Azriel’s armpit with the top of her head. Rhys was only just a tad shorter than the two. Or maybe he sat down to assert dominance and remind everyone who was the High Lord. Either way, Elain did not care. She and Rhys played these little power games all the time. She, for example, wore blue exclusively since Solstice. Every shade, every hue, but always blue. Just so he’d be reminded whom she loved. Gone were the pink and pale gowns of her human life, now replaced by her Fae wardrobe, which spoke volumes about where her allegiance lay.

Cassian and Azriel exchanged somewhat confused glances, but did not say anything, waiting for Rhys to explain.

“You are aware that Feyre and I are leaving for Winter Court later today.”

She nodded.

“Mor is coming along.”

He tapped his fingers on the shiny mahogany surface and then stated,

“You are the only remaining person with...power,”

Both males whipped their heads at him, then at her.

“What do you mean ‘power’?” asked Cassian.

Shadows wafted around Azriel, his face inscrutable, but his posture tense.

“Elain is the only one who still possesses Cauldron-given powers. Nesta’s have been considerably diminished, and Amren doesn’t have anything of significance left. Unless one of you wishes to escort us to Winter, and leave Mor here, Elain is the only remaining Fae with extraordinary powers. Hence, I’d like to ask you,” he looked at Elain, “to consider protecting Velaris should the need arise.”

“Rhys,” began Azriel, but Elain interrupted him and nodded, “Of course. I’ll do whatever needs to be done, though I hope we have no need for it.”

Cassian glared at her, “What kind of powers you got, El?”

“And how do you know that she has powers?” challenged Azriel, his face darkening, hazel eyes boring into Rhys.

“We had a conversation,” said Rhys calmly, “and Elain chose to...showcase her powers.”

“Showcase them?” repeated Azriel. “Wonder what sort of conversation the two of you were having?”

“That’s between my sister-in-law and myself,” began Rhysand, but Cassian stepped in and said, “cut the horseshit, everyone. What is going on? How do you know that she has powers? She never demonstrated them,”

“He pressured her,” Azriel gritted out. His siphons came to life, flickering and filling with their cobalt life, and in response, Rhys’s power woke up, slithering around him and then extending into the rest of the office like a dark beast. Azriel took a step towards Elain. She, in turn, remained unfazed by the display, her icy Archeron flame blazing in her brown eyes.

“I did not pressure her,” corrected Rhysand, “I simply made a request as her High Lord and she did not take kindly to it,”

“I reminded Rhysand that he is not my High Lord,” Elain chimed in coolly.

“It seems that I am,”

Azriel raised his hand and ordered, “Back off, Rhys.”

“You shouldn’t force her to reveal her power, Rhys,” Cassian said, all amusement and humour gone from his voice. “Especially alone--it’s unchecked. Do you recall what happened with Nesta?”

Rhysand shrugged, “I wasn’t asking Elain to scry.”

“Rhysand,” Azriel’s voice was grave and so cold, it sent an actual chill down Elain’s spine. “You want to ask something of me, go ahead. Hells, if you want to order me and pull rank,”

“I don’t pull rank,”

“You pull rank all the fucking time,” growled Azriel. “But I swore an oath to you and I will serve you to the best of my abilities. She,” he jerked his chin in Elain’s direction, “is off limits.”

“Not when it concerns the stability and safety of my court,” parried Rhysand.

Elain glanced at him with disdain and almost wrung her fingers, before stopping and simply dropping her arms at her sides. Somehow, the movement centered her.

“I have never jeopardized the stability of your court,” she almost snarled, but stood still and tall. “If I may be so bold, but I remind you that without me, you wouldn’t have won the war. I was the one who found the Suriel for Feyre, which resulted in turning the tide of the war. I stabbed the King of Hybern. Because of my vision, my mate located Vassa and forged alliances with the humans,”

At the word ‘mate’ Azriel flinched. It did not escape Cassian’s attention.

“And,” she stopped abruptly, pursing her lips. “I’ve said enough,”

“What else did you do?” asked Cassian, turning fully to her, his eyes narrowing.

Elain felt herself bursting with strange, tingling energy. The males’ wings twitched, almost flaring, as they all glared at each other and it felt stifling in the room, despite its vast size.

“Nothing, Cassian,” she snapped at him. “Think!”

Power rumbled. The air filled the scent of jasmine. Siphons flared, just as shadows swarmed. Elain barely felt Lex’s cool touch against her hand, as it tried to calm her and bring her back. Lex did not lunge to protect her, only fluttered about, serving as a diffuser. Azriel’s shadows went wild, concealing him almost entirely. He remained steady, but she noticed his thumb stroking the hilt of Truth-Teller.

“Aright!” Cassian stepped forth, arms raised, “alright. That’s enough. From you, Cauldron Princess,”

At that, Azriel snarled and Elain rolled her eyes.

“And you, Your Darkness,” Cassian glared at Rhys. “Settle the fuck down everybody. You want to take it outside and have a go at it,”

“No,” snarled Azriel. “You wait with Elain outside. And I will have a talk with my High Lord.”

Cassian chewed his lip, but made to take Elain’s hand, following Azriel’s order. Yet, she did not budge.

“I am not a girl to be ordered around,” she shrugged Cassian’s hand off her shoulder. “I am a woman, and you’ll all treat me with the same deference that you afford your mates. As I promised,” she looked at Rhys, “I will protect and defend Velaris and its people to the best of my abilities, if I am called upon to do so. You,” she turned to Azriel, her gaze unflinching, “are not asked to fight my battles for me. I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions and standing by them. And yes, I know that my power is untapped and largely undiscovered, but I don’t need to be provoked into displaying it. I am not a wild beast to be poked and prodded in order for me to unleash. Now,” she glanced at the clock, “I am late for my children. Have a nice trip.”

“I’ll fly you,” offered Cassian softly, gently stroking her shoulder.

“Thank you, but no need. I’d rather walk.”

Without a second look at both Rhys and Azriel, she turned around and left the room.

Azriel’s face remained impassive and he made no move to follow her, but Cassian saw it--Elain’s cold indifference would torment his brother for the rest of the day. Elain’s rejection, however small, her denial of Azriel’s protection, her calling Lucien her ‘mate’ would grate on Azriel’s psyche with relentless self-flagellation. They all had their demons to fight, but Azriel, perhaps, had the most.

Elain grabbed her jacket, so riled up that she couldn’t get her arms into the sleeves. A sleepy Feyre appeared at the top of the stairs, but before she could ask, Elain walked out the door and into the cold. She shivered. Her body felt hot, still brimming with that energy, the anger and whatever else floated inside of her. Unlike Nesta, she didn’t hate her power, for it gave her a measure of self-control, or protection, even if she wasn’t entirely sure how to use it just yet. Sooner or later, she’d have to learn.

“You’ve upset the master,” announced Lex. It trailed her faithfully, sort of latched onto her shoulder.

“I am not discussing this with you,” she snarled.

“The General is also upset,”

“Alright, wonderful, everyone is upset with me. Great. You happy?”

“Not particularly.”

“Mind your own business.”

But Elain was upset. She didn’t mean to lash out at Azriel. She didn’t mean to call Lucien her ‘mate’. But, like all Fae males, Azriel was over-protective and became aggressive when she was challenged, instinctively standing up for her, as she was his female. But she did have powers and she could handle Rhys herself, and didn’t need Azriel’s involvement. Especially if it created bad blood between him and Rhys--Mother above there was already plenty of it.

She walked quickly, cooling off with every step, her emotions running high, and

feeling both sad and cold, as she huddled in her jacket. She forgot her scarf. She’d upset Azriel. She sort of fought with Rhys. She was hungry. She didn’t feed Nyx, leaving him behind with the nanny. So far, this was a fantastic morning!

The children greeted her happily, hugs and kisses, and for a moment, she forgot everything, lost in the sense of familiarity and joy, the loud tales of their petty squabbles, the who did what, what they had for breakfast, and much more. She forgot everything, until Temal bounded and wrapped her around the legs in his usual fashion.

“Good morning, love,” she smiled at him, trying to smooth his thick, black hair. He looked at her with his perpetually eager enthusiasm and quickly asked, “Lain! Where is Az? You know, Lain, I read so much myself and I have to show him, because I have to read with him. And then we go fly. Where is Az?” he kept looking around, holding her hand, chewing his lip, his eyes darting about the hallway. He was used to having Elain come with Az every morning now, and Azriel’s absence perplexed him.

He tugged on her hand and demanded impatiently, “Where is Az, Lain?”

“Good morning to you too,” she said softly. “Let’s all go outside for our morning,”

“Where is Az?” he asked again, concern-lacing his voice now, his eyes dimming.

He kept looking around.

“Is he coming?” he asked impatiently, still hopeful.

But Elain’s slight hesitation was all that Temal needed to murmur sorrowfully,

“He don’t want to come no more?”

“No, he does,” Elain began, but he interrupted her, angrily, throwing her hand off his shoulder,

“No he doesn't! He doesn’t want to fly no more. He doesn’t like us,” his eyes were instantly brimming with tears.

Now other children were overhearing them and their faces were showing the same disappointment as Temal’s, though there was something like devastation written on his.

“Go get your jacket,” she told him, and he let go of her entirely, head hanging low, shuffling to the coat racks.

Other children came over to her, asking the same question, looking concerned and upset. Elain felt terrible, hating how this made them feel, being abandoned and feeling unimportant, again. She didn’t know what to say to them. How to explain.

“Azriel will come back,” she assured them, but he wasn’t here, and her assurances fell on deaf ears.

Slowly, the children shuffled outside, the mood subdued. It was quiet, as they meandered along the courtyard, some of them climbing and others getting on the swings, swinging halfheartedly.

Temal went all the way to the back of the yard, towards the wall, and absently dragged a stick in the dirt, drawing something in the mud. Elain left him be for the time being, as she sat with the younger children around the table for their lesson. But attention wasn't on her. Every time a shadow passed by the door, all heads turned that way, necks craning, and then--a wave of disappointment. While Elain helped the little ones with their tasks, Lex informed her “your boy is very upset.”

“I know, Lex,” she sighed.

“He thinks that the master’s abandoned him.”

Elain did not respond.

Lex offered, “do you want me to go and play with him?”

“No, I’ll go and talk to him,” she got up and walked over to Temal.

“Temal,” she called out to him, but he wouldn’t face her and just mumbled, “I don’t wanna talk, Lain.”

“Why not?” she asked gently.

“I don’t want to,” he shrugged, digging deeper into the mud with his stick.

“Is it about Azriel?”

Silence.

“Tem-,”

He turned to her, his face stained with tears.

“Why he don’t come, Lain? Why?”

Temal, like all Illyrians, was not much of a crier. Whether hurt, in a fight, or upset, he never cried, and simply walked away and dusted himself off. This much emotion was completely foreign to him, yet tears ran down his sharp cheekbones.

“I don’t know why he leave me, Lain,” he sniffled. “Everybody leave me…” he added. “My ma--I don't know her. Maybe she was good, but she leave me,”

“Your mother did not leave you, Temal,”

“She did,” he argued. “But you know, I am happy with my mali. We have a good life, and then my mali go away and he...He go to Vallahalla, and I never see him again. He leave me too,”

She paled, not knowing what to say.

“Your mama and mali loved you though,” she said softly, “so much,”

He wiped his tears with his palm and said, “why they leave then? They don’t love me,”

“My mama and mali also left me,” she told him, “but I know that they loved me,”

“I like Az and I think he like me too, but now he doesn’t even come,” Temal shrugged. “And I think that Sunni is sad too, because she likes him, and she don’t even talk.”

“Temal,” Elain said firmly, “Azriel never goes back on his world. If he said he will come, then he will,”

She sounded so confident that Temal looked up at her, at last.

And then, his face broke into a thousand smiles or pure joy and awe. Sprinting past Elain, he rushed to the other side of the yard. She was smiling, even without looking, sensing the commotion.

“Well, hello Illyrians!” bellowed Cassian, “and the rest of you, future warriors! Are you ready to train?”

A deafening scream of ‘yes!’ was the response.

Elain turned around. The two gigantic Illyrians swaggered through the doors, and stood, arms folded, observing the mass of children before them.

The children stared. Stared in awe. Stared at the Commander General. In front of them, in the flesh. Even these orphans knew who he was, recognised him immediately, and now gawked, unable to tear their eyes from him, from his colossal, towering presence.

“Elain here said that some of you want to learn how to fight?” he asked breezily.

Eyes lit up and waves of eager nods rippled across the gathered children.

“Well then,” he decided, “I guess you got yourself a teacher. Az and I are going to be teaching you how to fly and how to fight. Is that good?”

Oh, it was good.

And then Elain snorted a laugh, when Sanaai came upfront, ignoring Cassian completely, as she raised her arms in silent command before Azriel. He picked her up and she immediately found her place against his chest.

Cassian began commandeering at once, while Azriel quietly made his way to Elain.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hello,” she looked at him and then there was an uncomfortable pause. Then he reached into his jacket and withdrew her scarf that she’d left behind in the house, when she was so eager to escape. Wordlessly, he draped it over her neck and then wrapped it around carefully, watching her the entire time. She shuddered from the warmth. From his thumb brushing against her jaw.

“Az!” Temal wrapped around Azriel’s legs, “you came!”

“Of course I came,” said Azriel, surveying the boy’s face. “Were you crying?”

“No!” Temal flushed. “I don’t cry. But I happy. You came.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” assured him Azriel. “Now run and get in the formation.”

Once Temal was gone, Azriel looked at Elain and asked her seriously. “Why was he crying?”

She brushed her fingers against his own and said, “He thought that you would not be coming.”

Sanaai shifted in his arm and looked up at him, indicating that she, perhaps, thought the same.

“And you?” he asked.

“I’ve never doubted you. In anything.”

Elain stopped at the Palace of Bone and Salt after she’d left the orphanage.

Feyre informed her that everyone was in Winter, that it was beautiful and there were ice castles and sleds and ice rinks everywhere, and that Nyx took well to his first winnowing and was now ogling polar bears and eating a cinnamon and cranberry scone.

It all sounded very nice, but Elain secretly winced--she hated winter. She didn’t like the cold, and no amount of mulled wine, snowmen, pine decorations or spice cakes could ever change her mind. Winter always harkened back to the days of their poverty, the freezing cold in the hovel, the dark, dreary evening, endless, endless nights spent in silence or bickering.

No, Elain loved the light, the sun, the warmth of spring and summer. She loved the scent of flowers, the regeneration of earth, the waking of all life. She dreamt of visiting a beach one day, especially after Feyre had described Adriata to her. So polar bears and roasted chestnuts could stay forever in Winter Court for all she cared.

“What are you going to buy?” asked Lex, flitting and gliding nosily the produce stands.

“Ingredients for dinner obviously.”

“What are you going to make?”

“Shouldn’t you know? Isn’t it your job?”

“No, I don’t know. But once you select something, then I will know.”

Dealing with Lex was often akin to talking to Temal, yet Elain enjoyed it. She came to depend on her gossipy, opinionated shadow in the past few days and somehow, having it near her brought her a sense of camaraderie, almost a friendship. She began understanding how Azriel felt with his shadows, how they took him out of his unbearable loneliness once he learned their language, and how something similar was happening to her right now. Because she’s been lonely, so lonely and hopeless, and solitary, and if it weren’t for the twins, she didn't know what she’d do. Perhaps, the male who’s been just as lonely most of his life knew how to recognise the signs, knew how to read her and her emotions and saw inside. He was always the only one who saw. When nothing made sense in her life, he was able to offer a semblance of peace, or normalcy. Even something as simple as treating her respectfully and kindly, without looking at her with confused concern was sometimes enough to bring her out of her emotional stupor.

Elain’s made her decision as soon as Feyre told her about the trip to Winter Court.

So, as she loaded her basket with chicken, rosemary, lemons, bread, apples and pears, her resolve only grew. Once she paid, she told Lex ‘take me home’.

“You don’t know where your home is?”

She sighed and clarified, “Your master’s home’.

“Oh good, let’s go,” Lex perked up at once. “Master will be happy if you are there. He always wants you to be there, you know.”

She didn’t know. She didn’t know if Azriel, in fact, wanted her there. Yes, he gave her the key, but was it appropriate for her to just barge in and make herself comfortable? She didn’t know. Elain was a polite and proper person, with good manners, who always behaved appropriately in all situations. She wasn’t the snarling Nesta, or, at times, incomprehensible Feyre. She was Elain, who’d let the three Fae males into her house, who cleared it for them to conduct their business and who convinced Nesta to host the queens. She even managed to charm the Cauldron--whatever that meant. She could do many things, but this step was something entirely different. She was taking it for herself.

She vaguely recalled where the building was located, but Lex led her along the streets with confidence, yakking away the way only it could, while she barely paid attention, growing more and more nervous the closer they came. And then, at last, behind a little square, she eyed the building decorated with etched jasmine and moonflowers. She stopped and looked up. It was a long way up to the….she counted...twelfth floor. This must have been one of the tallest buildings in Velaris.

“Let’s go,” urged her Lex.

Elain swallowed and then crossed the little square and opened the door into the building’s foyer. There was a wide, winding marble staircase. She sighed, bracing herself for the climb. With her basket it was going to be a trek.

When she climbed to the fourth floor, Elain stopped, panting. Was she out of shape? Probably. Perhaps Cassian was right, and she needed to come to her senses and do some exercises, but she was never going to tell that to him. Admitting any kind of defeat to Cassian meant a lifetime of taunts.

“Are you going to go all the way up on your own two feet?” asked Lex casually.

She was huffing, and waved him off, muttering, “whose feet am I going to be going on?”

“I can just take you there,” Lex suggested.

She looked at its dark form, floating playfully around her. When it was just the two of them, Lex did whatever it wanted and didn’t stay true to the laws of physics, so it bobbed and bounced however it wished.

“You can?”

“Yeah,”

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier and made me,”

“You didn’t ask,” it reminded her.

“I really hate you sometimes,” she groaned, while it enveloped her in its dark mist and the next moment, they were upstairs, standing by the door.

“Thanks,” she said. “Why didn’t you just take me inside the apartment?”

“I can’t,” Lex admitted. “Only you and the master can enter. No one else, without your permission. Even us.”

“Oh,” Elain didn’t know if she was surprised, flattered or proud, or maybe all of the above, as she opened the door and entered.

Azriel and she only exchanged a few words today, after the children’s training, when they were all moaning and groaning from their aches and pains. Elain pulled Cassian and Az aside and warned them to be gentler and more careful, and that this wasn’t an actual Illyrian training camp. Cassian tried to argue, but she gave him a brief ‘Archeron stare’ and that was the end of the conversation. Luckily, the two did bring two bags full of balms and salves with them, for all the scratches and tender muscles. They had stopped at the apothecary and that is why they were late coming in the morning.

Azriel only said that he’d see her ‘later’, and that he was going to work. No indication of when and where he’d see her, and considering that he was in uniform, with at least four siphons, ‘work’ didn’t sound like a relaxing endeavour. But she didn’t ask, and only smiled and hid her worry inside.

So she hung her jacket, removed her boots and her scarf that Azriel always insisted on, because she ‘could get a cold’ without it, according to him. She wasn’t even sure if Fae got colds, but his obsessive protectiveness was still adorably endearing.

“Lex, can Nuala or Cerridwen understand you?” she asked as she walked to the back of the spacious apartment and stopped in the bedroom.

“Yes. Why?”

“Can you go and ask them to bring me my clothes?”

“No.”

She whipped her head and stared at the dark stain in the corner of the room. “Why not?” she demanded.

“Because I am not permitted to leave you,” Lex explained.

“Even if I order you?”

“You can order me to do other things, but I can’t leave you.”

She gave an exasperated snort, but Lex announced in his usual, non-chalant way “If you need clothes, they are already here.” It flew to the closet and Elain followed, and when she opened the door to the impressively enormous wardrobe, there they were--a rack hung with some of her dresses and skirts, and inside a glass lined cabinet, there were personal items, stockings and hose and tights and underthings. Everything was arranged simply and precisely, in a way that implied that she was expected, wanted and belonged here. It somehow made her belly soft and warm, like a cluster of butterflies skidded over her skin, though she ordered herself to think rationally. This was hardly different from when Nesta moved into the House of Wind and began living with Cassian and Azriel. It was probably just as,

Oh, gods, who was she kidding?

Of course it was different!

Nesta didn’t move into Cassian’s room.

Cauldron, was she really about to live with a man? well, a male? Just...live with him? Sleep with him in the same bed? She had no idea what she was doing! She’d never lived with a man...and, and, surely he had expectations. What were her own expectations? She certainly, well, she certainly desired him. Wanted him. But beyond her mild fantasies, she didn’t even know what she wanted precisely. A part of her yearned to live that wild, unbridled passion that she saw with her sisters, but her sisters were more experienced by the time they’d met their mates and then there was the damn mate bond. Theirs, surely, worked very differently from hers. Yet all that screaming, and panting, and moaning -- she truly had no idea where it came from with them. Whatever she felt with Greyson was reasonably pleasant, especially the second time around, but it certainly didn’t inspire any groaning or panting from her. She’d seen Cassian’s lacerated back, raked over with Nesta’s nails. What could inspire such passionate violence? Besides, she didn’t even have nails--hers were trimmed rather short, though she at least put varnish on them.

And now she was here. Awkwardly taking off her skirt and cardigan, to change into something...well, he liked her in his shirt, so she searched to locate a stack of plain, informal shirts, which were all kind of the same and took one. Paired with leggings, to which she grew rather accustomed lately, taking after Feyre’s penchant for them, she figured that she looked decent. She’d never worn trousers or pants outside, or when she knew that there would be visitors, but alone with Nyx, or when it was just Feyre and Rhys and her, she didn’t care. Rhys cared even less. Three nights ago, she noticed Azriel’s utter shock, mixed with such obvious desire when he saw her in her tights, for the first time. She didn’t think that he even tried to hide it. So if that is what made him happy, then she was going to wear it.

She didn’t dwell in the bedroom for much longer, lest it made her too nervous and bombard her with unwanted thoughts.

Without Azriel’s perfectly distracting perfection to scramble her brain as it always happened when he was around, she took the time to look around, though she still didn’t allow herself to touch anything. Back in the kitchen--her domain--she began unloading her purchases on the sleek marble counter, and then spotted a familiar item on one of the side tables--a Symphonia. She turned it on and as she began preparing dinner, the music selection came as a surprise to her, an interesting insight into Azriel’s mind.

The Symphonia wasn’t filled with waltzes and minuets of Nesta’s preference, but with lots of dance music--not something she’d expect from the quiet, solemn Azriel. There was folk music, and fast, melodious songs, as well as music from what Elain assumed were other courts. Curiously, she definitely heard songs and dances of Human Lands, some of which she used to sing as a girl, as well as Illyrian melodies--haunting and glorious. Lex, as it turned out, liked music as well, as it informed her ‘I like stars and music and flowers!’ Lex, apparently, was a romantic and a dancer to boot, because the faster the musical numbers, the more Lex bounced around the kitchen. “You dance well!” Elain complimented it, as Lex swooshed and bobbed and floated, wrapping itself around Elain’s hips, as she ground and writhed against the counter, waving her knife and her tasting spoons in the air. It was probably a good thing that Lex was a shadow.

‘Master doesn’t dance like you!’ Lex half-complained, half-praised.

“We’ll get him to dance with us,” promised Elain.

Behind them, a male cleared his throat and Elain and Lex halted their dancing abruptly.

Azriel was standing, propped against the wall, arms folded on his chest, a smile on his lips.

Elain flushed. Happy.

“Glad to hear that the two of you are conspiring against me,” he chuckled.

“You are home,” she whispered.

“You are home as well,” he said, peeling away from the wall. He extended his hand and she came over to him and took it, and he pulled her to him. Elain slipped into his embrace and he murmured into her hair ‘dance with me?” His jacket was still cold from the flight and she shivered when she wrapped her arms around his torso. He pushed her head into his chest and they swayed to the music, he leading her into a slow, languid spin across the room. The melody switched to something slower and more sensual just in time, and he smiled against her head that smelled so delicately of jasmine. Perhaps the gods were smiling upon him today, after all.

“Are you tired?” she asked, her voice muffled by the press of her face into his chest.

She held him so tightly, so desperately, it was as if he’d just returned from war, and not a day of work. Granted, he had to make a quick trip to the human lands and back, but she didn't even know that.

“No, love,” he said, “not tired at all. Especially not when you are here.”

It did not escape him that Elain had called this place ‘home’.

“I am just glad to see you here,” he admitted, and then finally pulled her face away from his chest and gently grasped her chin in his scarred fingers, making her look up.

“Is it alright?” she asked, unsure. “That I am here?”

“Is there any other place you’d rather be?” he challenged, his eyes twinkling with a teasing delight. “Is this not the place where you belong?”

“With you,” she gasped, reaching up and stroking his cheek in her warm hand that smelled of apples. “Only with you.”

He kissed the inside of her palm and concurred, “only with me.”

“I only want to be with you,” she nodded. Whatever happened between them in the morning seemed to have been forgotten. Azriel didn’t forget, but he was going to bring it up later.

He slung his arm around her shoulders, knowing that she would not be happy if he released her.

Gods, he was leashed! This golden pink girl with her chocolate-brown eyes wrapped him and wrung him and remade him into something utterly new. With her, he was a man reforged. A sharp, brutal edge that always lived inside of him, that cut deep and unflinching, was somehow dulled by her, as if she managed to tame the cruelest parts of him, at least when they were together.

“So, what smells so fantastically?”

Her soft small hand was stroking his back continuously, and Azriel wondered if it was to remind him that she was with him, and that she was his. Or, perhaps, to reassure herself that he was with her.

“Chicken!” she announced, burying her face in his arm, smelling the delectable scent of him, mixed with cold air and wind. He began unbuttoning his jacket, as they made their way into the kitchen but she swept his fingers aside and took over the task. She wouldn’t release him, and Azriel...well, he never wanted to be released. She was soft and warm under his arm, fitting into him with some inexplicable, magical precision, as if she was wrestled out of his body once and now they were put together again. He, who detested human touch with such vicious dislike, he, who did not enjoy the feel of anyone’s hands on him, often not even in the bedroom, he couldn’t get enough.

She pulled his jacket off at last, while he stroked her petal-tender cheek with the backs of his fingers, “Chicken?”

She nodded, and then kissed his cheek. “It’s the best chicken you’ll eat!” she promised.

“I bet,”

“No, it’s so good, you’ll want to marry me!”

He laughed, amused by her excitement and this self-praise that was unlike her, “Well, I’ll still marry you, regardless of the merits of this chicken,”

Elain’s eyes shot up and she looked at him, biting her lower lip.

It was the second time in just as many days that he said that he’d marry her. The words fell from his lips with ease and confidence. As if he really wanted to do just that. As it was inevitable. He looked down at her, reading her question, the hopeful expectation in her eyes.

He gently pressed his thumb to her lower lip and pulled it down from under her teeth.

“Just say the words,” he murmured, kissing her forehead.

She snorted and said, “I am not marrying a man who hasn’t even kissed me yet!”

Azriel laughed and nodded his agreement. “I wouldn’t either,” he said, taking her hand and leading them to the bedroom.

She plopped on the bed, tucking her legs under and watched him chuck off his layers. The shadows swarmed and picked everything up, with each item disappearing in the dark smoke.

“They are useful,” she noted, somewhat amazed at what she was observing.

“They are indeed,” he nodded, and then asked, “how’s Lex? Is it,”

“I am good!” interjected Lex.

“Really. And was I asking you or Elain?”

“I am good,” repeated Lex, with even more conviction. “You can ask her, but I am very good and nice too.”

“Nice and good,” hummed Azriel, while Elain was trying to stifle her laugh.

“So, is Lex nice and good?” Azriel asked at last.

She could almost sense the shadow’s nervousness and therefore, said,

“Lex has its moments.”

Hiding his smirk, Azriel proposed, “You want another one?”

“No!” Lex whirled right in front of them, jumping back and forth between the two. “Elain likes me!” it insisted. “Elain, tell the master that you want only me.”

She sighed and nodded, “Yes, Lex, I only want you. We are good friends.”

Placated and smug, Lex calmed down and rested on Elain’s lap.

Azriel was laughing softly.

“So how did this wearing of my shirts come about?” he inquired, watching her watch him. He undressed slower than usual, for her benefit. But secretly, he couldn’t get enough of those huge innocent eyes looking him up and down, glaring at every bit of revealed skin, raking him with a hungry gaze. Her lower lip was clamped between her teeth again, and it drove him insane...to be watched like this, with those brown eyes so filled with desire and that plump, pink lip. Perhaps he should just pull that lip with his teeth, kiss it, lick it, bite it...marry that plump lip and its owner, everything be damned.

Elain shrugged, “It wasn’t anything romantic, if that’s what you are hoping for,”

“Oh, you wound me,” he clutched at his chest dramatically. “And here I thought that you were so starved for my scent that you hunted down my shirt,”

“Pfff,” she rolled her eyes, “dream on, batboy!”

Azriel couldn’t remember when he laughed so hard. Her pure, absolutely delectable dismissal of him was just precious. And ‘batboy’?

Once he finally stopped hollering, and she snickering, Elain said, “Nyx puked on my dress one time, so as I was carrying him, while he was screaming, and we were both covered in vomit,”

“Yes, that is not a romantic story,” he agreed.

“I saw your shirt on the chair, and grabbed it, and since it’s long enough to basically be a dress, I just changed into it and that’s how it came about. Also,” she ran her fingers over the sleeve, “you have very nice shirts,”

“Yeah?”

“Soft and well-made. Such fine material, even for this simple shirt.”

“Small pleasures,” he shrugged, now completely undressed, save for his black undershorts. His wings fluttered loosely behind his back, relaxed.

Elain cocked her head, watching him.

“I’ll go wash up,” he said, though didn’t move, enjoying her unblinking, intense scrutiny. “Care to join?” It didn’t hurt to offer. One day, she might just surprise him.

“I would,” she whispered, her throat bobbing at the sight of him, “but my chicken says otherwise.”

“Ahh, well, the chicken,” he nodded. “It needs more tending to than Nyx.”

Once Elain returned to the kitchen, she let out a long, ragged breath. Watching Azriel--an almost naked Azriel--was the best, and the worst experience. He was almost criminally handsome, and when he extended his casual invitations to her to join him she fought the urge with every fibre of her being. She had to still her breathing, recalling every detail of his bronze body; the dangerous cut of all his muscles, that powerful chest, arms so thick with muscle and sinew that back in the human lands someone would call them ‘tree trunks’. The tapered waist, and that vee that slid smoothly away from his narrow hips...gods...And that gorgeous nonchalance of his entire bearing--who ever thought that Azriel was bashful and demure? But perhaps, it was just for her. All of it was just for her. His relaxed easy confidence was reserved only for the person that he felt utterly comfortable with, which was her. He never hid from her, never pulled his hands away, never shied away from his scars in front of her.

She really needed to pull herself together, yet a dull, but pleasant ache blossomed inside of her and she shifted and pressed her legs together, as she attempted to busy herself at the stove. But when Azriel was around, all rational thought left her and all she wanted to do was sit and stare at him like a fool. How could she have thought that Greyson was the epitome of manliness? She chuckled to herself, slightly shaking her head at the preposterous thought. Greyson. A boy. A boy full of hot air and exaggerated self-importance. What a fool she’s been. What a fool.

She gasped with surprise when strong, warm hands squeezed her hips. Azriel’s walk was so soft, he was almost entirely soundless. Even her new, acute Fae hearing couldn’t pick up his movement. He turned her around slowly and she found him on his knees in front of her, his face pressed into her stomach.

“I am sorry,” he whispered, kissing her belly through the fabric of the shirt. His hair was damp, and he was wearing his usual black and gray, a short-sleeved shirt that revealed all of his musculature, as well as the black ink of his tattoos, and soft slacks that he usually favoured at home.

His hands stroked her sides, her ribs and then landed back on her hips, stroking and squeezing, until he looked up at her and cupped her bottom, not in any sort of playful manner, but intimately, tightly.

“Sorry for what?” she gulped, as she caressed his face with her thin, calloused fingers.

“For earlier today,” he explained, kissing her stomach again, his lips finding skin beneath the shirt and brushing over her navel. Those large, brazen hands kneaded her behind, unrestrained, cupping and massaging, and Elain’s breath hitched in her throat, as she felt her breasts grow heavy and aching. “It’s very difficult for me to stay calm when I feel like you are being placed in an uncomfortable situation and Rhys,”

She pressed her finger to his lips and said, “I can deal with Rhys,”

“He has no right to force you to reveal your powers or use them,” Azriel insisted, looking her over with a serious, displeased expression. “And you should’ve told me that he,”

“When we initially had that conversation,” she recalled, “I was angry with you anyway,”

“Which I hate,” he interrupted, his look stern.

“That’s in the past.” She shrugged. “It didn’t last long, I’ll have you know. I don't think that I am capable of staying angry with you for a long time,”

“That’s a relief at least,”

“But he forbade me from seeing you,”

His handsome face darkened even further at her words, but she added,

“And that made me very...let’s just say that I was much angrier with him than I was with you. I understood then what had happened. That you didn't stop seeing me on your own volition and that the order came from him. I couldn’t control my temper,”

He smiled softly at her and teased, “you have a temper?”

She chuckled and nodded, “I do have a temper. But when I lost it, I revealed my hand,”

He kissed her knuckles.

“Not that I was hiding it, but the power, it rumbled. It resurfaced and it faced his power. And both--fought.”

“Who won?” he inquired, genuinely curious. His arms were banded around her, hands still on her behind, still stroking and squeezing, and she grew hotter and more heavy-lidded by the minute.

“We didn’t challenge each other to a fight,” she snorted. “But my power felt strong. Like it could respond to him. It didn’t like the challenge, if I am being honest.”

“Hmmm,”

“What?” she took his face between her hands and made him look at her. “And why are you still kneeling?”

He grinned and kissed the inside of her palm, “I like it here. You feel nice in my arms.”

He pulled down the waistband of her tights, just until it reached her hip bone and kissed her there. Then he pulled the other side, and kissed her other hip bone. She swayed on her feet and he held her up, those strong hands holding her bottom, supporting her.

“Feels good?” he teased, winking at her and she let out a soft moan, as he trailed kisses down her bare belly, burrowing under the shirt.

“No!” she moaned at last. “It feels terrible...because I want more,”

“I can give more,” he offered with a twinkle in his eyes.

This was nothing but light kisses. Not sensual, open mouthed kisses. No. Just soft little pecks and nips on her skin. Both of them were completely dressed. Yet Elain felt as if she was melting in his arms, as if his lips were branding her skin and his closeness slithered over her flesh in a silken caress and an invitation.

“Az,” she gasped.

“Yes, love?” he sounded innocent. As if he wasn't driving her veritably insane with his every touch, as if she wasn’t yearning to have him spread her right here, on this cold tiled floor and plunge into her, quickly and roughly.

He tsked and shook his head, flicking her nose playfully, “what are you thinking about?”

“How I am annoyed with you right now,” she gritted her teeth and he laughed in response.

“I rather like keeping you a little on edge,” he confessed and then finally rose to his feet. He leaned over her, his hand gently squeezing her throat. His warm breath caressed her ear and he whispered, “I should love to hear some of your naughty thoughts,”

Elain flushed, shifting against him, breath uneven and heavy.

“Will I?” he pressed, his thumb stroking her neck slowly, his face at her ear.

“Will you what?” she managed.

“Hear them?”

She swallowed.

He did not release. His thumb swept against her tender skin, and he remained stooped over her, waiting.

Gods...he expected an answer.

“I…” she babbled, not knowing what to tell him. Yet she wanted to tell him everything. Every, undoubtedly, juvenile, uninteresting fantasy that she had.

He kissed her ear and waited, patiently.

“Yes,” she breathed at last. “Yes.”

“Good,” he said simply and then kissed her ear again, the new, elongated tip, to which she was still unaccustomed.

“Will you?” she asked suddenly. She didn’t expect to ask this, but here it was. He watched her intently, and she clarified, “Will you tell me? of your...needs?”

He gave her his usual amused look and then, “Yes”.

Simple. No arguments.

“You will?” she stuttered.

“Do you not want me to?” He sat at the table, and crossed his long legs in front of him, feet bare.

She flushed a deep, lovely pink--Cauldron damn him, but he loved making her blush--and then murmured,

“I do. But,” she swallowed, “I am very nervous. Is that alright for me to admit?”

In one long, graceful swoop, he tugged her to him, and made her stand between his legs.

“You know you should never worry, right?” he asked, squeezing her hips in his hand. “Never. I will never,”

“I am not worried about that,” she waved him off. “Never you.”

“Then what?” his brow furrowed.

She licked her lip and her blush deepened, “I don’t know anything,”

He waited for her to speak her mind, without interrupting.

Centuries of conducting interrogations taught him patience, taught him when to push, and when to pull back. Eventually, everyone broke. And it didn’t always involve pain. In fact, using Truth-teller or any other methods of ‘enhanced interrogation’ was the last resort, typically utilized in most stubborn, or desperate cases. Azriel did not resort to torturing anyone unless he absolutely saw no other option. Not due to any sort of kindness or mercy--it was not his job to be merciful or emotional--but because allowing someone to simply speak and unburden yielded better, more truthful results.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she murmured, her voice hoarse.

His thumbs only brushed against her hips, soothing and encouraging, his hands still holding her tightly.

“Do what, baby?” he asked at last.

“You,” she sighed. “This...I want this,” her voice fell even lower, “more than anything. I want us--you and me and everything that comes with it. But,” she shook her head in frustration.

“But you are inexperienced,” he offered.

“Utterly,” she confirmed. A deep blush flooded her cheeks, “It’s embarrassing, but I’ve never even seen a naked man,”

His brow lifted just a tad in surprise.

“But…” he stumbled, “aren’t you...are you a maid?”

“No,” she muttered, “I am not. But I didn’t see it. We...we weren’t naked.”

Azriel whooshed a breath and swore softly. “You mean to tell me that that fool had you to himself and didn’t even manage to get you naked?”

She smiled shyly.

“I know that I am awkward and probably too proper, and you are gloriously beautiful and desired by everyone. So, I would understand,” and her voice broke at this, “if you don’t want to take this further. I would...I don’t want to burden you with my inexperience. My complexes, which I am sure that I have,”

“Shhhh,” he bubbled his lips and shook his head in admonishment, “shhh. No. No. You,” he looked her up and down, slowly, measured, “are everything I’d ever wanted. Beautiful beyond words, yes, but so much more than that. If it was only your beauty that enticed me so, that would be one thing, but all of you makes me...crave. I want you like I’ve never wanted anything before. Elain, you are magnificent and exquisite in every possible way. Loving you is no burden,”

Her eyes brimmed with tears, as she stroked and stroked his face nervously,

“I worry...that I won’t be enough,”

She almost-

Almost.

Almost wrung her fingers, but he tracked the movement and she just dropped her hands onto his shoulders.

Azriel was absolutely fine with the idea of doing whatever Elain was partial to. He was perfectly aware that she was an innocent, not that he’d compare her to his own experiences, which would be laughable, but even in human terms, she was barely touched. It didn’t stop him from imagining how he’d love to teach her in the ways of love and pleasure, slowly, patiently, but thoroughly. Until she came into her own. And he understood her hesitation, the undercurrent of fear and uncertainty that he tasted in her scent. Which would simply not do. But the gods knew--Azriel was a patient male.

He pressed his cheek to her hand and gently stroked the sides of her torso.

“Will you trust me?”

She nodded.

“You will always be more than enough. Just remember--take whatever you want from me, take away bread and water, take my peace, just never take yourself away from me. And,” he paused for a moment, as if hesitating, but she stroked the back of his neck and he whispered, “don’t...please, don’t call him your mate. Even if he is.”

She made a move, to step back, but he held her tightly, his hands almost spanning the width of her hips, and looked at her.

“I can handle your anger,” he assured her. “And I can attempt to be less,”

“Territorial?”

“Hmmm.”

“Domineering?”

“Hmmm.”

“Over-protective?”

“Hmmm.”

He chewed his lip and then said, “No. None of those things will happen, I was just joking.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle, for he was completely serious, and deep down, she knew that he wasn't going to change. If this was the path she was taking, she needed to accept him the way that he was, and that she was always going to be his primary concern.

“I don’t know why it slipped out,” she admitted, and bowed to kiss his head, laying her cheek on top of his skull, in his soft, thick hair. “I am sorry,” she begged.

He was quiet.

She pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around his solid, thick shoulders, pushing his face into her chest.

“I never think of him that way,” she continued. “I think I wanted to snap at Rhys. Stand my ground to him, but it came out so wrong,”

“But it’s true,” Azriel sighed.

“I don’t think so,” she argued.

“It is. I’ve come to accept it. That you will never be fully mine,”

“That’s not true,” she interrupted him and then tipped his chin up, looking down at him with her luminous amber eyes. “I will never be his. Yours, it's a different story. I will always be yours. In every way.”

She cupped his face and added, her voice urgent, “The thing is that, I’ve always wanted to be yours. I think from the time I ever laid my eyes on you. It seemed like an impossibility back then, but you were breathtaking… Nesta was smitten with Cassian. And I was smitten with you, and now I am free to declare it.”

She kissed his forehead and added, “And I am sorry. I know I hurt you, unintentionally, but I know it was the wrong thing to say. You are right, I don't ever want us to fight.”

He smiled, relieved. This morning’s tension sat in the pit of his stomach, even after he’d seen her again, during training. Even after they were done, he was still thinking about it, about her calling Lucien her ‘mate’, and about her ignoring him. When he and the too-excited Cassian left the orphanage and Cassian was in the throes of planning entire training sessions for the children, Azriel still couldn't concentrate, turning the morning’s events over and over in his head. Only when Cassian interrupted his brooding contemplation with a ridiculous question, did he manage to snap out of it.

“So, is he yours?” asked Cassian.

“Is what mine?”

Cassian sized him up and then jerked his chin, “The boy. Temal. Is he yours?”

Azriel couldn't help, but roll his eyes. “Are you insane? What are you even talking about?” Cassian shrugged.

“You can’t deny that the resemblance is uncanny.”

“He is an Illyrian,” Azriel snapped. “I am an Illyrian. He had parents.”

“Alright. If you say so. Elain sure is doting on him like he is yours.”

“She just likes him,”

“She doesn’t like anyone else like that,” observed Cassian. And then, added, “It’s alright. I get it. But it would be funny if he was yours.”

“I don’t fuck Illyrian females,” reminded him Azriel. “We, don’t fuck Illyrian females.”

“True,” Cassian nodded and smiled. “But I’ll be damned! Does she love you or what….She even got a youngling who looks like you.”

“Fuck off.”

Azriel got up and kissed her head, while he began setting the table, and she busied herself with her famed chicken. It was the first time ever he was having dinner with someone here, in his house, and for some reason, it made him both uneasy and so excited, it felt like when he was a youngin, with his first kiss.

The chicken, Elain’s presence in the kitchen, his shadows resting, except for the ever-present Lex--this was home. Never before, ever, did he feel at home. Even here, in this house of his, which he loved, he always felt a visitor. Now, there was something grounding him, making him stop and savour the moment, live in the now, enjoy every scent, and touch and sound. Even the clinking of dishes.

“Can you please sit down,” she ordered him.

“But I want to help,”

“You are here to relax and...adore me,” she shrugged and he grinned.

“I do adore you,” Azriel sat down compliantly and propped his chin, watching her intently, his one siphon slumbering on his wrist. His lovely, darling girl. He truly was a fool for her, but he didn’t care. He smiled to himself, thinking what an obedient, good hound he was now.

She finally arranged the dishes on platters and delivered them to the table.

“Oh,” he inhaled the delicious blend of spices, of lemon and herbs and Elain watched his eyes close with delight. A whiff of something familiar and dear washed over him. Home. Childhood. But not his childhood and not his home. This--this is how he imagined home, with these smells and with this female.

“So,” she sat down and began to serve him, “I know you don’t like Illyria,”

“But this is Illyrian food,” he said quickly, recognising the dishes.

“Butuzuli,” she said, her accent pretty and precise when she pronounced the Illyrian word. A glorious concoction of crispy, golden rice studded with pistachios, Illyrian spices and dried apricots.

“How did you know?” he wondered, amazed. The look of the dish was exactly the same as if it came from the cook in his father’s keep.

“Shashlama,” she gave him a heaping pile of roasted eggplant that was smothered in parsley sauce. Then, he began carving the gorgeous, brown-skinned chicken and the smell of lemon and rosemary was intoxicating.

“I’ve been learning,” she said, pleased by his reaction to the food.

“From who? How?”

He tucked into the rice and the vegetables and barely stifled a moan. This was divine.

“Alright, I am going for the chicken!” he warned and Elain giggled, watching him.

The meat was perfumed with garlic, the woodsy scent of rosemary, the fruity, tangy addition of lemon and it truly was the best chicken Azriel’s ever tasted. He was normally a polite, elegant eater, with good manners, who was able to pace himself, but tonight, he wanted to gobble everything down like Cassian.

“Baby, this is…” he could barely string coherent words together. “May I curse?”

She burst out laughing, almost choking on the wine that he’d poured, but nodded.

“This is fucking delicious!” he groaned.

“Good chicken?” she was laughing merrily.

“Magnificent chicken!” he looked at her and then winked, “I might very well have to marry you after all,”

“Told you!”

As they settled comfortably over their plates, the Symphonia still playing something softly in the background, Azriel asked,

“So you’ve been learning to cook?”

“I know how to cook,” she tore a piece of flatbread, and popped it in her mouth,

“Well, I know,”

“but I’ve been reading up and learning about Illyrian cuisine. The cook in the orphanage is Illyrian, so she’s been offering me recipes and showing techniques,”

“But this is not just Illyrian,” he noted, “this is,”

“Bagratian?”

“Yes.”

She smiled at him.

“Well, here is what I figured--I have a brother, and a brother-in-law, who are Illyrian, and my child and the man who is my whole world are both Illyrians from Bagratia, and my children will be Illyrians with Bagratian blood, so how could I not learn of their culture? Their food? The language? Histories?”

He put his utensils down and stared at her, “You know that I am from Bagarat?”

She shrugged, “I guess I do. Does that surprise you?”

“You surprise me every day,” he bit his lip, awed. “But...Did Cassian tell you?”

She placed more rice on his plate, since it was something that disappeared almost immediately, and said, “No. But Temal looks like you,”

So she knew. And noticed.

“I read up on the Iron Eagle camp,” she continued her explanation, “where he is from, and then learned that it was in the province of Bagratia, and then Rhys confirmed that you are indeed from there. Are you impressed with my investigative initiatives?”

Very few people knew of Azriel’s background, of where he came from, which House, what province, and it struck a different note in him that Elain was interested, and that she took the time and effort to learn about his roots. Illyrian history and traditions, even its geography were not easy to come by. Illyria was a world of its own, with little written lore or documents, therefore, it couldn't have been just a simple book that she picked up to read up on Illyria. She must have gone to the Library for additional research.

“I truly am,” he nodded, and then took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it.

“The cook’s husband is from Bagratia, so she learned about the foods once she married him. She explained that Bagratia is different from the rest of Illyria--more open, with more trade, hence the varied and spiced cuisine, and different customs as well.”

“Culturally, it’s much more diverse than the rest of Illyria,” he suppressed something dark inside of him at the memories, willing himself to separate his own history from the actual place.

Elain paused for a long time, watching his darkening expression, the recollection of whatever was plaguing him.

“Will you tell me?” she finally braved the question.

He didn’t require an explanation of what she was asking.

“Tell me the good things,” she offered.

He scowled and shrugged, “very few good things to tell, if I am being honest.”

She waited, allowing him to make the final decision.

“Bagratia,” he said at last, his voice even lower and more gravelly than usual, “is the one province in Illyria that could be considered ‘wealthy’. There is even a capital city--Bagarat. Most of the Illyrian Lords come from there and the breeding of Illyrians for Killing Power originated there,”

“Why?”

“Well, a smart and cunning Illyrian lord, millennia ago, spun a crafty tale,”

He chuckled and helped himself to more eggplant.

“Honestly, this is so good,” he muttered, as if the food was a welcome distraction from the tale he was telling.

Elain smiled and then, to his utter delight, she stretched her legs out and placed them on his lap, as per his previous request. She said nothing, as she relaxed against the back of the Illyrian chair, which was probably less than comfortable for her, and played with her food.

“I am glad you are enjoying it,” she said sincerely.

He gently stroked her calves and perhaps it gave him some internal stability, but he continued,

“That lord, he spun a wild, but believable tale of Enalius being from Bagratia. You know who Enalius was?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “I’ve read about him...Cassian gave me a book,”

“Cassian gave you a book?”

“It surprises you?” she chuckled.

“A little. What book?”

“The Histories of Illyria. He said that if I learn Illyrian, he’ll give me the original, written in Illyrian.”

“That’s Cassian,” Azriel sighed. “Always trying to drum up support for his favourite cause.”

Now fully satiated, Azriel allowed his wings to droop around him, as he stretched his legs out and absently played with Elain’s bare feet.

“So naturally, an entire profitable industry was created out of the lore of Enalius, and suddenly there were all these markers, conveniently found around Bagratia.” He snorted, waving his hand and announcing, “This is the cave where Enalius spent the night before the battle! This is the stone upon which Enalius sharpened his sword! This embankment was where Enalius and his followers feasted on roasted goats!”

Elain laughed at his performative demonstration.

“But, eventually, it led to the honing of power that Illyrians became famous for. Unsurprisingly, Bagratian lords tried to usurp most of it, and breed it into their lines. That’s how the siphons came about--the breeding pool was too limited, too narrow and the power couldn't be controlled anymore. The siphons managed to direct the power output through magic, though it took a while to perfect the system and the usage. When an Illyrian male comes of age, fully comes into his power, there is a period of trial and error with the siphons--too few, and you can destroy everything around you, break the siphons, unleash the power incorrectly and sloppily. Too many siphons, and they put a damper on your strength and might, essentially tying your hands.”

“And you have seven…” it wasn’t a question, but Elain stared at his brown, scarred arm with its leather band around the wrist and the dully glimmering cobalt stone.

“Yeah,” he glanced at the siphon. “Seven.”

He smiled, recalling, “I kept breaking them, because they couldn’t contain the power. I received two right away, because the Commanders saw that one would never be enough, but I broke them. They added another, and another, and I broke all four. Finally, landed on five. It lasted for a bit, but the five broke during a battle in the first War, which really wasn't ideal,” he said mildly. Elain couldn’t even imagine. No siphons meant no shields, no protection, no ability to heal, and no actual power, beyond the physical prowess.

“So you fought?”

“Hand to hand combat…” he nodded, “for over four hours. Took me ten days to recover the use of my arms afterwards.”

He stretched his arms in front of him, flexing his fingers. Elain was probably the only person in the world, except for Cassian, in front of whom Azriel felt secure enough to do that.

“So, you were born in Bagratia,” Elain began, but he interrupted, shaking his head,

“Not only born. I am half Bagratian,”

Her brow furrowed in confusion.

“You are an Illyrian,”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “For all intents and purposes, I am. I winged, dark-skinned Illyrian. But to Illyrians themselves, I am not only a bastard-born, but also a half-breed. Cassian, for example, is fully Illyrian. Devlon, whom you've met, too. Emerie. Me--I am a little different.”

“So what does it mean?”

Azriel drew his scarred thumb over the rim of his wine glass and then said, his gaze flitting absently about the open space of the apartment,

“My mother, she is unusually beautiful,”

Elain looked at him, as if a mystery was solved—the mystery of his own unbelievable handsomeness. Because Azriel was just that beautiful. Rhysand might have preened and claimed the title of the ‘Most Handsome High Lord’, but Azriel was indisputably the more classically, elegantly handsome one.

“In Bagratia, besides its claim to Enalius and a high concentration of power and Illyrian wealth, there are a number of other people that have settled there over the centuries. Some just comprise small settlements, but others have entire subcultures, because their numbers are quite large. My mother—she came from such a people—they call themselves Hiberions—who claim to have escaped a great cataclysm, back millennia ago. No one really knows where they came from, as they had no written record, but whatever did happen, it caused this nation to disperse around what is now the Night Court. Some settled in and around the coast, but many ended up in Illyria.

There are speculations that Hiberions were invited by an ancient High Lord to the Night Court, and offered sanctuary. Hiberions themselves claim a different story, and say that they were the original founders of the Night Court, and that they allowed others to settle on the land, but over time, they were weakened due to internal struggles and were pushed out of the seat of power. Kier, Mor’s father, claims that he is a descendant of the Hiberions, and that Hewn City was their original capital,”

Elain’s eyes flew wide open, but Azriel shrugged with his usual nonchalance.

“What?” she murmured. “Is it true?”

He scratched his chin and said, “Hard to say. I haven’t investigated it very closely. But rumour has it that the ability to wield shadows and that shadowsingers as a phenomenon originated from the Hiberions. Because they might have been the inhabitants of the Dusk Court,”

“What is Dusk Court?”

“A Court that perished, they say. A great Court, but….it doesn’t exist anymore. Don’t you find it strange that there is a Night, Day and Dawn, but no Dusk?”

“I’ve thought about it,” she admitted truthfully. “But I wasn’t sure what to make of it.”

He drew his palm over her foot, and she squirmed a little, giggling.

“So, your mother?” she reminded him, wanting to hear the rest of the story.

“My mother is a Hiberion. Well, mixed—Illyrian and Hiberion,” he tugged on his lip for a moment and then said, “if you think that Illyrians are horrible and treat their own like shit, then you should only see how they treat those who aren’t pureblooded Illyrians. Less than nothing. Therefore, Hiberions who live in Illyria usually keep the most menial jobs, and live in great poverty, with almost no rights at all.”

Elain bit her lips, but did not say anything, wanting him to continue.

“The one thing that Hiberions have is that they can breed with Illyrians, and that they are, generally speaking, very good looking. Hence the women are prized and valued, and typically can obtain employment in a Lord’s keep. Unfortunately, their beauty is usually their downfall as well—they attract unwanted attention.”

Elain swallowed, understanding perfectly well what he was implying.

“Is that what happened to your mother?”

He nodded.

“My father was a Bagratian Lord, wealthy, with a training camp located on his lands. That always brought him steady income. He was married to a female—an arranged marriage—and they had two sons.

“My mother was engaged to be married to a hunter, also a Bagratian, who traded in pelts. She worked in the training camp, and that’s where she’d met Rhys’s mother. Because my mother was a half-breed, she had wings, but they were lame, and did not develop as quickly as normal wings do. Therefore, flying was always very difficult for her, and that’s how she avoided being clipped. They didn’t bother with her, seeing that she couldn’t fly away anyway.

The hunter, he was wounded the winter before they were set to get married, and couldn’t support himself or her, while also needing a healer, at least for a period of time. So they decided that she would seek employment at the Keep…my father’s Keep, just for that winter, until the hunter recovered. She was hired as a maid, and all was well for a while, but that was until my father saw her and became smitten at once.”

Azriel cleared his throat and considered for a moment, before continuing,

“I don’t know if ‘smitten’ is the right word. Infatuated? Obsessed? Enthralled? I don’t know…But whatever it was, he pursued her relentlessly, spurned even further by the fact that she had no interest in him and was in love with the hunter.

“But my father was a Lord and she was a poor half-breed in his employ, with nothing to her name and no protection. The hunter tried to come and take her away, but my father hid her and wouldn’t release her.”

“He forced her?” Elain sounded broken, her face paling.

He nodded.

“Surely. Perhaps he wasn’t violent, but it was not her intention or desire to be with him. The wife might not have cared, for it was common enough occurrence for a lord to keep women available for sexual pleasure, but then my mother became pregnant.”

“With you?”

“No.”

Elain sensed that he was about to tell her something horrible, and she didn’t want to hear it, yet she knew that she had to. That this was something that he probably didn’t share with anyone. He was trusting her with his family lore, broken and terrible as it was, filled with pain and suffering, but she felt a sense of kinship, as it was an honour to hear his story.

“The wife beat that babe out of my mother.”

Elain sucked in her breath as her hand instinctively went to her stomach. He tracked the movement, but didn’t comment.

“Hiberions aren’t like the Fae,” he explained. “They are Fae, but like Illyrians, they are a separate race. So certain common traits of the Fae don’t apply to them—females get pregnant easily, or at least at the same rate as humans.

“So, within months, my mother was pregnant again—this time with me. The wife threatened my mother again, but the Lord overheard and broke the wife’s arm in a fit of rage. So, she, more or less, left my mother alone after that.”

He stopped speaking and looked out the floor-length window in front of which they were sitting.

“And then?” Elain asked softly.

“And then it became a different story…mine.”

Which meant that he didn’t feel like discussing himself or his childhood. She understood and did not push.

But she did ask,

“What happened to the hunter?”

“I found him,” Azriel said, still looking out the window, his jowls working hard.

“And?”

“And he was still alone, waiting for my mother. He knew that somehow, he’d get her back, and one day, she’d return to him and they’d be together. It was after the War and I had my seven siphons by then. Rhys, who was very gravely injured, and almost lost his wings in the war, had recovered, and so we went together, back to my father’s Keep. Cassian and Rhys and myself, and the hunter.”

“Your mother was alive?”

“She was. We let the hunter take her away…”

Elain didn’t need details about what had happened afterwards.

Nesta had mentioned what the three brothers did to Cassian’s village and the males who had destroyed his mother’s life. How they laid waste to the entire settlement, barely sparing the females and children. She imagined that something very similar took place at Azriel’s father’s Keep.

So, she bypassed the question and the details.

“And your mother?” she asked instead.

“She and her husband, the hunter, live together to this day.”

Elain’s face sparkled with genuine happiness, and somehow, that made all the difference.

Azriel wasn’t sure if he should share his background, and even as they started to discuss Bagratia, he didn’t think that he’d veer off so deeply and completely into his family history. Now, he felt like some weight had been lifted off his shoulders. There was lightness, even despite the topic of the conversation and all the memories that it brought up. Perhaps, it was Elain’s gentle, contemplative acceptance, or the sorrow written on her soft, flower-like face, or this happiness that she was displaying right now that made his tale tolerable and worthwhile. She reached and grabbed his hand and asked, “Your mother lives?”

“She does. And it pleases me that she is happy. She deserves it.”

Elain threaded her fingers with his and then, quietly, inquired, “Will I be able to meet her? Not now, of course, but,”

“I think she’d love to meet you as well. I think she’d love to meet you anytime. You have similar qualities, even similar interests,”

“Like what?”

“She is an accomplished baker—actually, that’s what she does. She has a pastry shop in the town where they live. It’s very popular,”

“Is that where you got your sweet tooth?” she joked.

“Probably. Even if I’d never eat anything sweet until I was an adult.”

“Why?”

“My childhood did not allow for sweets,” he answered blandly, not wanting to return to that place in his head.

Instead, Elain asked, “what else?”

“She likes flowers, like you. They have a lovely garden.”

He smirked then, and made a wide gesture with his hand,

“And speaking of flowers...I see we have all these weeds now in the house,”

“Weeds?” she shrieked indignantly, while he nodded and laughed.

“Weeds?”

“Yeah, weeds...I’ve never had flowers in this house,”

“That’s weird but also untrue,” she cut him off.

“Is it?” he was laughing.

“I saw two jasmine plants--in the bedroom and in your study. Are they weeds that you allow?”

He got up so swiftly, she barely registered it with her own eyes. And then he was on his knees in front of her, cupping her face between his rough palms. She slid towards him, wrapping her legs loosely around his torso, just under the wings. She smiled at him, and nudged her face to kiss the inside of his palm.

“What?”

He looked at her long and hard, as if trying to drink in her loveliness, memorise every line of her face.

“I must have jasmine,” he said at last, leaning in and kissing her cheek. Then the other cheek. Then her temple. And then tenderly, slowly, each eye.

“Az,” she breathed, wrapping her hands over his thick, strong wrists. His thumbs brushed along her face, and he said, “you are my jasmine, my beautiful flower. The scent is you. The day I returned from the human lands, from your estate, after meeting you for the first time, I had to go to Hewn City and perform some unpleasant tasks.”

Elain guessed, but did not question what those tasks might have been.

“And then I went and bought a jasmine plant, because all I wanted to do was think about you.”

Her breath halted and she stared at him.

He sighed apologetically, “I didn’t have anything of you, so I figured that maybe I could have your scent,”

“I smell of jasmine?”

“You don’t know?” he seemed surprised.

She shook her head.

“Jasmine and honey. You are a cross between a flower and a pastry,” he smiled and kissed her face again. “My favourite scent. So whenever I slept here, I’d always wake up to your scent and it made for a good day…”

He reached behind her and then scooped her in his arms.

“I am proud of myself, because I managed to keep these plants alive this whole time!”

She chuckled and wrapped her arms around his neck, while he rose to his feet.

“What about dessert? And the dishes?” she protested unconvincingly.

He nuzzled at her neck and growled, “You are my dessert.”

She shivered with pleasure, and he added, “and dishes...that’s what I have the shadows for. They’ll take care of it. Lex,” he barked. “Make yourself useful and clear the table.”

“I don’t know how,” Lex immediately protested.

“Then learn,” Azriel suggested, as Elain laughed into his neck.

“I don’t want to. Don’t you have others to do the dishes?” Lex argued.

“How about doing what I tell you?” Azriel proposed.

Lex floated to the table, apparently surveyed it and then declared,

“I am tired.”

“That’s the shadow you gave me?” Elain whispered into his ear. “A shadow that is lazy and that gets tired?”

“I can hear you, Elain,” Lex pointed out.

“If you are so tired, go to sleep,” she told it.

“I don’t want to. I am not so tired.”

“Lex is only so tired when it comes to clearing the dishes,” Azriel huffed and released a cloud of his own, less problematic and temperamental, shadows. “You can do whatever you want, but don’t bother us until the morning.”

Elain stroked and scratched the back of his neck, laying her head on his shoulder, as he carried her slowly to the bedroom, his face buried in her hair.

“Did you like dinner?” she asked, sighing softly and happily.

“It was perfect. Perfect. But, one request, if I may?”

She looked up and smiled, “you may?”

“Raisins in the rice...lots of raisins,” he requested.

“A little side of rice with a mountain of raisins?” she laughed and nodded. “Raisins it is.”

He kissed her cheek and she pouted, “But I really wanted you to have my dessert!”

“Breakfast? Dessert pastry for breakfast?” he offered, giving her a conciliatory kiss.

“I suppose.”

They finally made it to the bedroom, and Azriel closed the door behind them with his foot.

There was a sleek, comfortable leather chair in the bedroom that stood by the wall of windows, and Azriel headed straight for it, sprawling easily, his wings splaying against the wide back. He did not release her, but sat her on top of him, so she straddled his hips. His large, warm hands immediately migrated to her lush bottom, perhaps his favourite feature of hers, at least so far. He was hoping that he could explore many, many more parts of her, slowly and thoroughly, and soon.

She looked at him, her face soft and rosy, that delicious blush of her spreading slowly over her cheeks. Gods, he thought that he’d never get enough of that blush, would never want to stop making her blush like that, because of how his proximity made her feel.

She placed her hands on his shoulders and he tugged on the silk ribbon that tied her long, thick braid.

“You haven’t called me ‘baby’ today,” she reminded him, her voice warm and husky, and the sound of it made him shift beneath her.

“No?”

She shook her head, his tongue slowly brushing her lower lip, before she clamped it in her teeth, watching him from under her lashes. Slowly he released the thick golden strands of her hair from the plait and it fell like a silky curtain around her shoulders and her face.

His finger lightly pulled at the collar of his shirt that she was wearing and he leaned and kissed her collarbone.

“Well, that’s my fault then,” he breathed against her neck, and kissed the other collarbone, before he unbuttoned the top button. “Will my baby forgive me?” he then kissed between the collarbones and proceeded to unbutton another button.

“I don’t know,” she gasped, “what will you do?”

“As penance?” he smiled, watching her pulse quicken, and the vein under her pale skin fill with blood.

“Let’s hear it,” she welcomed coyly.

He smiled, amused and secretly entertained. It was adorable when she took a little bit of charge, and decided to be in control. He liked it. She was quiet and unobtrusive, but she knew when to stand up and be heard and when to step back. She wasn’t as shy and retiring as everyone assumed she was, but that was probably because very few actually paid attention and learned about who she was. She did. He paid attention to everything.

“I undress you?” he proposed simply.

She squirmed just a bit, but then gave a single nod.

He found the buttons for the back slats of the shirt and then asked casually, as he worked them with his fingers,

“Tell me what you want, my darling girl.”

His voice was soft, but there was something imperative in his tone, which left little room for debate.

“I-I...what do you mean?” she stammered.

He was cool and steady, as he pulled the shirt off her shoulders and repeated, “Just tell me what you want?”

“You?”

He smiled,

“Are you unsure?”

“No! I am very sure. I just don't know what you are asking,”

“I think that you do,” he said evenly.

“What do you want?” she then asked in turn.

He sighed and placed a soft, chaste kiss on her lips. She gasped, but he pulled away before she could even react.

“You, emani,” he said simply. “I want you, just as well. But I also think that I want more…I think that I want everything. Everything you can give me, anything you are willing to share with me. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and I think that I want to be greedy this time around. For the first time in my life, I want a woman, a female,”

“A woman,” she murmured.

“A woman,” he agreed easily, “to give me all of her.” He cupped her cheek, his eyes bright and almost entirely green in the dim light of the bedroom. “Body--yes,” he looked down at her, and almost groaned, “gods yes, I want this body. But so much more. I don't want to sound like a feral Fae male,”

At that, Elain smiled softly, wordlessly giving him permission to be just that.

His hands grabbed her hips, grounding her on his thighs and he said, “But I don’t care. I want you to be mine. I want to know every day, every moment that you are mine and that you feel something for me. Because I want to be yours. I don’t give a fuck about your bond, the lack of our own,”

“We don’t need a bond,”

“We don’t,” he nodded, “because you are mine and I'm yours.”

“And that’s more than enough for me. Also, you are already quite feral, so I don’t think I need any more ferocity.”

At that, Azriel laughed openly and she giggled, liking when her jokes made him laugh. Then, more seriously, he added, “I think that after 500 years, I am ready for something new. This nomadic existence is nice, but honestly, I think that I am tired of wanting...of hoping. I have you--if you’d have me--and I am ready to,”

“Oh, no, am I making my shadowsinger settle?” she mused.

“I think the shadowsinger doesn’t mind settling at all. When I built this apartment,” and he jerked his chin, “it was the first thing that was my own. I’d always shack up in the House of Wind, or at Rhys’s, and it was fine. I felt busy, and I didn’t feel like….” he stumbled. “Like I deserved good things. Any things, really. But then Rhys was Under the Mountain, and we protected the city, kept everything running, and I started thinking that there had to be a reason for all of this sadness and when I looked at the people who lived, who had families and some semblance of happiness, who found joy in the very day, I thought that maybe I should try to strive for the same. It took me another half a century to meet you,” he chuckled tensely, and stroked her cheek with his knuckles. “But here we are. And honestly,” he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, “coming home tonight, and finding you here,”

For the first time, perhaps ever, Elain watched him being emotional about something. Or at least as emotional as he ever got.

“It was the best feeling,” he concluded at last. This was also probably the most Azriel’s said in his entire life--tonight, when he told her of his mother, when he was making this confession to her right now, was the most verbose that Azriel’s ever allowed himself to be.

“I like being here. With you,” she said simply and sweetly. And then she leaned in and kissed his eyes softly. “Cooking for us. Being in this house…”

Azriel knew that Elain’s nature was domestic, nurturing, and she was happiest when she had control over her life, over her domicile, over her surroundings. He wasn't the only one who needed control in his life--in their desire for planning and order, they matched very well. The upheavals of the past decade certainly pushed her to crave a sense of stability and ownership, and he accepted that. Liked it, since that’s what he was lacking in his own past.

For her, he’d wrestle and wrangle the peace and tranquility that they both craved.

“Now...will you undress me already?” she ordered impatiently and he grinned.

“It’s your turn,” he reminded her, “I’ve said more words in the last fifteen minutes than I’ve in the past century.”

As he slipped his shirt down her torso, baring her pale skin, so in contrast with the dark bronze of his own, she said quietly, barely looking at him,

“I like it when you tell me what to do.”

He did not press, waiting for her to speak. His heart lurched with secret satisfaction at her words, but he tried to keep his excitement muted.

“Not in everything,” she continued, her head inclined towards her chest, watching her breasts, covered with a lacy wrap.

The Fae, as she quickly learned, did not wear corsets. And thank the Mother for that. Their clothes were practical. No petticoats, no unnecessary shifts, no hooped skirts, no scarfs or flounces to cover the bodice. No issues with females wearing trousers or pants either. The Night Court fashions were on a more scandalous side, so much so that Elain and Nesta often bucked at some of the dresses that were presented to them. Feyre and Mor favoured scraps of translucent fabric and some strategically placed belts and straps and that’s about all. Elain still wore dresses, but none required half an hour of cinching and tying to get into them. Undergarments were simple as well, elegant and well-made, for the Fae took pride and care in their immortal bodies and their underthings. She grew to love the uncomplicated breast wraps, that supported everything quite well, but allowed for easy movement and only needed a satin tie or a few pearl buttons to stay put.

“But I don’t want to even pretend like I know anything,” she lay her hands on her lap, to prevent herself from squeezing her fingers. “And I…” she licked her luscious lip, “I think that you would enjoy telling me what to do.”

Her gaze fell on his mouth, the sensuous line of it.

“I would.”

His throat bobbed just a bit, excitement coursing through his veins.

“So you’ll have to tell me,” she decided. “And I will listen.”

“You’ve been listening to me already,” Azriel noted, his hand sliding to the back of her neck, as he stroked the nape lightly. “I’ve noticed you are not wringing your fingers anymore.”

“I don’t,” she nodded. “Thank you for that. I didn’t think much of it when you told me, but now I understand. Surprisingly, it centers me. My mind doesn’t race when I do it.”

“A concentration technique,” he smiled.

“But also a test, I think. To see if I would listen?” she cocked her head at him.

He didn’t want to lie, so he nodded.

Softly, she wondered, “Is that what you like?”

“Control? Yes.”

“Pain?” she blinked nervously.

“No. Not pain. I certainly prefer pleasure to pain, but it doesn’t mean I haven’t indulged in both. With you,” he ran his thumb over her mouth, “I think pleasure is the way to go.”

She kissed the pad of this thumb, its rough skin and decided, “I trust you. I think that I would like to listen to you and do what you tell me.”

“Thank you, my sweet,” he unbuttoned the rest of the buttons with his available hand and tossed the shirt on the floor. Without breaking eye contact, he said, “open up” and Elain, a little unsure, parted her lips. “Lick.”

She made to reach for his wrist, but he only moved his head and guided her, “Mouth only.”

She acquiesced, and slowly pulled the thumb inside her mouth, swirling her tongue over it, watching him watch her with a content, pleased expression on his granite-hewn, perfect face.

“Lick,” he said again, without any further prompting. She licked. She dragged her tongue up and down his thumb, secretly marveling at the fact that his hand was the first thing that he allowed her to touch so intimately. Despite the intricate network of thick, mottled scars that covered his hands, snaked up all the way to his forearm on his left arm and reached his bicep on his right, his hands were beautiful, like the rest of him. The fingers were long and strong, with well-cared for nails, and the palm itself wide and large and powerful, his fist frighteningly enormous.

Elain licked, as thoroughly as she could, finding that it made her pant a little, squirm atop of him, and she didn’t understand why. She hoped that he was enjoying it, because she certainly was.

“My good girl,” he stroked her hair, dragging his other hand over her head, and at the name, she felt her nipples strain against the silk and lace of her wrap, “suck now…”

Barely giving her time to pause, he fed two fingers in her mouth, index and middle, and she gulped on air, sucking them inside. “Nice and slow,” he coached softly, rubbing them against her soft, wet tongue, “show me, how much you like it.”

She liked it. Even if the fingers took up most of her mouth, there was something sensual and primal, having his hand in her mouth. It was daringly intimate, and while she dreamed of kisses and caresses, somehow, with this one gesture, he brought her into a different realm. It was a place where she yearned to step into, and explore the possibilities that she hadn’t even imagined yet.

She sucked, slowly, as instructed, acquainting herself with the feel and the taste, watching him prod her mouth rhythmically, in and out, while she met the shallow thrusts with her tongue and lips.

“Good,” he approved, and she loved the praise on his lips, and how he watched her, her face, the workings of her tongue, and the even, languorous bobbing of her breasts within the confines of the wrap. She propped herself on his shoulders, as his arm wrapped around her waist and he squeezed her behind. He increased the speed ever so slightly, reaching almost all the way to her throat, and she dripped on her chin, but as she attempted to wipe the saliva, he shook his head and she stopped.

“Messy is good,” he whispered into her ear, leaning closer, so that her breasts slid and bounced against his chest, and the brush of her nipples over the silk became almost painful. A wave of heat rolled over her entire body, and for the first time in her life, she felt an ache. An ache deep inside of her, a ravenous hunger, which remained unsatisfied.

“Keep sucking,” he muttered into her cheek, his lips pressed to it tightly, as he lightly bit the hollowed spot, the teeth scraping over her skin. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, probably more strongly than she anticipated, perhaps even hurting him, but she didn’t care. She didn’t want to stop, but gods, the ache inside of her was horrible.

Azriel felt the powerful drip of her arousal against his thigh, as she writhed against him, warm and wet and panting in his arms. He loved watching her become this excited, offering him her mouth, giving him pleasure, her swift little tongue working tirelessly and hurriedly over his fingers. His sweet, beautiful girl. It wasn’t particularly difficult to keep himself in check right now, though he definitely considered taking this a bit further...perhaps undressing her more. But then he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to remain so composed if she was naked. Perhaps tomorrow.

He allowed her to suck for a bit longer, until, without warning, pulled his fingers out of her mouth.

She was taken aback at the loss, and stared at him, looking alarmed.

“Baby, was that good?” he smiled at her, and seeing that he wasn’t upset, she nodded eagerly.

“I can suck more, if you’d like,” she offered.

He wiped her wet chin and then brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them. The gesture caused her to bloom with a delectable blush that he loved so much.

“Did you...did you like it?” she almost whispered, and he teased her,

“Why are you whispering?”

She chuckled, wiping her chin.

“But yes, I absolutely loved it,” he said, relaxing back in the chair. “You did so well.”

She smoothed her hair and then straightened out, a small smile on her full lips, and watched him easily, but assuredly slide his palm between her legs.

She was warm and damp, and he brushed a knuckle along the seam of her sex, soliciting a little yelp of surprise and enjoyment from her.

“I am wet,” she blurted, and then stopped, eyes wide.

“You are,” he said simply, approval lacing his voice. “Have you not been wet before?”

He cupped her, holding his palm against her leaking core, but did not press further. He wanted her to open up to him, and somewhat surprisingly, she did,

“I don’t think I have. Not like this.”

It pleased him to hear that he’d made her this wet, but a question gnawed on him nevertheless,

“But when you gave him your maidenhead, you must have,”

“Not like this,” she said shyly, shaking her head.

“It hurt then?”

She nodded.

Annoyance rippled over his face, and he bit the inside of his cheek. Usually, he was not this expressive of his feelings, whatever they were, but with her, it was different. He cupped her cheek and then pulled her to him, so she sprawled on his chest, her head tucked under his chin.

“It’s a shame that he didn’t make the experience better…”

“They say it always hurts,”

“It doesn’t have to,” he argued. “It has to be pleasurable.”

“I guess I was expecting it,” she shrugged. “It was...alright.”

“Alright should never be the experience, especially not the first one,” he sniped, but didn’t push.

She ran her fingers over his chest, feeling the thick, hard mass of his pectorals beneath the thin knit fabric of his shirt. Azriel stroked her bare back, walking his fingers along the spine.

Suddenly, she murmured, “I want to shout.”

He waited, wondering when she meant.

She didn’t move, didn’t look at him, but remained tucked into his chest.

“I want to shout,” she repeated at last. “From pleasure. I’ve heard them...Nesta and Feyre. They scream.”

“And you haven't?” even though he posed it as a question, it was more of a statement. It did not particularly surprise him that she hadn’t had a climax, but internally, he felt a twinge of sadness. Yet, there was also a hopeful feeling of anticipation fluttering in his chest--for he’d be the one to provide her with her pleasure. He’d be the one who’d make her ‘shout’.

A plan was already forming in his head. Even when it came to sexual matters, Azriel preferred to plan ahead, have a path to follow, but then again, most of his encounters were pre-arranged in some way, so it was easier to accomplish. With Elain though--his Elain was special. She was his heart’s desire, and for her he felt many things, including passion. Passion was not something he dabbled in frequently, since he was not one to be quickly overcome by it, and never did he lose himself or his senses in a female. Sure, there was an occasional tumble against the wall with a panting, willing, nameless female, but it was an itch to be scratched, and nothing more.

“No,” she ground briefly against his hand, pushing into him. “But I want to. I think it would be nice to let go...to feel that free. So unburdened.”

She fell quiet and then, after a lengthy silence added, “With you. I want it to be with you only.”

“I should hope so,” he smiled. “Now, I would like to take you to bed and sleep in your arms. The entire night. Because I am fucking tired!”

Elain laughed and sat up, before jumping off him and tugging him off the chair.

“I want you to sleep in my arms as well!”

Elain loved getting ready for bed alongside him.

Needless to say that she’d never done that before. Even back in their hovel, she tried to carve a few minutes to herself, in privacy, even with her sisters banging on the privy door. But she never felt uncomfortable with Azriel, and even now as she washed her face, combed through her tangled hair, brushed her teeth, she watched him do the same next to her, and it felt inexplicably normal.

“I’ll finish undressing you,” he warned, before she headed into the closet. She paused, and sensing her hesitation, he added lightly, “You know, I can undress a female without baring her.”

“Is that a shadowsinging ability?” she joked, picking out a nightgown from the stack that one of the twins had delivered.

“No,” he called out from the bathing room. “It’s a male’s ability.”

When she emerged, he was standing by the bed, reading some document which he somehow fished out of somewhere. He was naked, save for his black undershorts, which contoured everything with egregious explicitness. Elain glanced down his torso. Those well-defined hip muscles, as well as the ridged abdomen were nothing but a mouthwatering temptation. But then she snagged another look,

And he caught it.

A smirk appeared on his lips and he said,

“You can look, you know.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she declared primly, but her eyes sparkled with mischief.

“You are right, not at all,” he jerked his head to have her come to him. He sat down on the bed and she approached, stopping in front of him.

“This will be my job, from now on,” his voice was heavy with promise, “to undress you. Every night.”

“Alright,” she agreed. “What if I want to undress you?”

“Then you should.”

He easily rolled her tights down her thighs and legs, until she stepped out of them and stood in front of him, almost nude, in only her silk underwear.

Elain was more supple, more voluptuous than her sisters. Nesta was rail thin, with surprisingly large breasts, a ramrod straight back and long, skinny legs. Feyre was both feminine and boyish at once, pretty, lithe, but unremarkable, at least to Azriel.

Elain, his Elain, was a delicious pastry incarnate. She was correct, he did have a sweet tooth. And she satisfied all his aesthetic cravings, and possessed all the qualities that he enjoyed. Contrary to what others thought, Elain was not small or petite--she was as tall as Feyre, and both were just a tad shorter than Nesta. But compared to an Illyian, these girls were small and delicate.

He couldn’t stop himself, and placed his hands on her hips, drawing a scrutinising gaze over her luscious body. Then, he placed a soft kiss on her belly, before rubbing his cheek over her soft, full breast. She stroked the back of his neck, down his spine and sighed with enjoyment.

“I have a proposal,” he looked up at her, and then drew a naughty finger along the cleft of her cleavage. She rolled her eyes slightly and he laughed at the reaction. “Don’t trust me?”

She did. And she was always intrigued by his ‘proposals’.

“Every night this week,” he began, punctuating his words with mellow, light kisses up and down her chest and the valley between her breasts, “you’ll show me a new piece of yourself...What do you think?”

“Naked?” she breathed.

“Yes, baby, naked.”

He pressed his lips to her nipple, suddenly biting it through the silk of her wrap. Her nipples were thick and plump and he easily caught one between his teeth, considering how overstimulated she already was. She hissed softly, when he bit. He bit. Not particularly painfully, but he bit and tugged the nipple with his teeth, watching her the entire time.

She gasped a mewling ‘oy’, and he released, but only slightly.

“A little bit every night, until nothing is left. Until you are bared to me in all your loveliness.”

“Yes,” she groaned, as he nibbled and tugged on her nipple. “Yes.”

“Good girl.”

“Is this what you want to wear,” he went to take the nightgown from her hands, but she dropped it on the floor and said, “I don’t want to wear anything. Just this.”

He scooted back and pulled the covers and the blankets for her.

“I won’t argue. Come here.”

She slid in bed beside him and he moved on his stomach, which was his preferred sleeping position. His wings draped over the two of them, and he pulled her closer.

She kissed his shoulder, and settled under his arm.

His breath evened out, and she thought that he fell asleep, until

“No one’s made dinner for me before,” he murmured.

She stroked his forearm and then kissed his shoulder again.

He was warm and solid next to her, a veritable wall of muscle and she never felt more comfortable and content in her life. He slipped his heavy, large leg between hers, and her thighs wrapped around him instinctively.

“No one?”

He tucked his face atop of her head and kissed her face.

“No.”

“I will cook for you,” she offered, “and we’ll cook together. And you’ll cook for me. Because no one’s cooked for me either.”

“Thank you. I’d like that.”

Elain smiled and then asked,

“What’s your mother’s name?”

“Gulchatai.”

“Now I feel like I know something about you...something personal. It’s nice.”

“Elain, wake up!”

A cool whiff of air bounced up and down her face, and Elain swiped Lex away, only to have it come back momentarily. “Wake up!”

“Leave her alone,” she heard Azriel’s hiss. “Right now.”

“Why can’t she wake up?” complained Lex. “I am bored!”

“She doesn’t exist to entertain you.”

“I am awake, I am awake,” she moaned. “Stop sitting on my face.”

Eyes still half closed, she made her way to the bathing room, took care of her needs and appearance, and splashed her face with cold water.

She glanced at herself in the large mirror. She couldn't say what it was, but she looked different. Confident? Perhaps. But more like ripe. Ripe for the taking.

As always, Azriel was propped against the headboard, swarmed with shadows, wearing his glasses and reading pages of reports.

“Come here, baby,” he called, “morning kisses.”

She smiled and bounded towards the bed, immediately giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“My gorgeous girl,” his hand swiped over her bare stomach, then her naked thigh. “Did you sleep well?”

“I always sleep well with you,” she kissed him again. He wrapped his arm around her and pushed her head into his chest.

“Morning news?” she smiled, watching the swirling mass of dark shadows around him. He nodded.

“Lex, do you have any news for me?” she then inquired.

“I don’t know anything!”

“How come everyone else knows something and you don’t know anything?”

A pause, and then Lex sat on her chest and asked, “what do you want to know?”

“Tell me about the children,” she proposed.

Azriel was listening to them absently, smiling.

Shadows, just like horses or puppies, had to be trained and cultivated. Elain was learning that lesson right now.

“Temal’s got into a fight,” reported Lex. Elain rolled her eyes. “Is he hurt?”

“No. But he was put on time-out.”

“What about the other boy?”

“He has two back eyes. Temal has one. And then Kira ate a big slice of cake before dinner.”

Then Lex rattled off her schedule for today, and asked, “You like this news?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Aziel was stuck dealing with some issue, already sending his shadows on some investigative mission when Elain threw on his shirt from yesterday--the first thing she found--and padded to the kitchen. Lex, as alway, was now yapping nonstop, giving her unnecessary gossip about the Fae that she barely even heard of. But as it was the case everywhere, there were famous Fae, scandalous Fae, notorious Fae. There was Anselma, a very popular singer, who was married, but her husband has been seen with another singer, Gunda, who was also sporting a pregnant belly. Whose babe do you think it is? pressed Lex busily.

“Well, I don’t know!” Elain shrugged, as she began preparing coffee. She didn’t bother with tea, because she actually grew to like coffee quite a lot. Azriel had the best, finest variety, all the way from Day Court, where the soil produced the best coffee crops.

“How can you not care?” exclaimed Lex, “everyone is talking about it! It’s news.”

“I think the babe is Coast’s,” she humoured the shadow, even if she didn’t care.

“I think so too!” Lex agreed immediately.

Elain set the table, when Azriel entered quickly, shaking his head, looking at the clock.

He, nevertheless, slowed down, and came behind her, sliding his hand under her shirt and pulling her to him.

“I am sorry I am not helping,” he murmured, kissing her neck tenderly.

“It’s fine,” she smiled.

“I’ll cook dinner tonight?” he offered.

“I’d like that.”

“Or would you like to go out?”

She pointed to the table and said, “How could I forget--you are supposed to be courting me.”

“I am courting you,” he reminded her and poured them both coffee.

“Human courting is all about balls and being seen in society, and picnics and Tea,”

“Do you want to go on a picnic?” he teased. “It’s late autumn? But, if you insist,”

She laughed and took a sip of her drink. “I like this courting more.”

“Oh thank the gods.”

He dug into the pear tart that she’d baked yesterday, and groaned with delight and pleasure, as he polished off the first slice and then moved on to the second right away.

“This is glorious,” he grumbled and Elain smiled a soft, secret smile, watching him enjoy himself.

“Why didn’t we eat this last night?”

“You took me to bed!” she exclaimed, indignant.

“You should’ve insisted.”

“Oh, so it's my fault?”

“I feel like it kind of is,”

She threatened, “I will take it away!”

“Fine, try,” he challenged. “But don’t think that I won’t fight you for it! Just because you are a girl and I like you. And I’ll win.”

She bubbled her lips and parried, incredulous, “I have Cauldron powers! You are just some little Illyrian soldier…”

He burst out laughing and then grabbed her hand and kissed it. “We’ll have to have a discussion about your powers later. But, baby, there is nothing little in this Illyrian soldier.”

She immediately glanced at his wings that were peaking behind him.

“Now he is Cassian,” she muttered.

He laughed, but then tipped her chin and tsked, “no, no, no. You won't weasel out of this that easily. You’ve been eyeing my wings since last night. Don’t think I didn’t notice. You’ve never paid them that much attention before.”

“I did no such thing!”

“Hmmm.”

“You are the one saying that you are huge!” she threw.

“I never said any such thing,” he took a slow sip and raised his brow at her. “But tell me...you and the twins have been gossiping about the wings?”

“No,” she lied.

“Hmmm.”

“Stop humming!”

“What did Cerridwen say?” he inquired. Cauldron damn him. Was there something he didn’t know?

“She said absolutely nothing. Other than that you are...well-endowed.”

Elain blushed at his amused smirk.

He looked her over, lazily, seemingly forgetting that he was in a hurry.

“The tart was delectable,” he said.

“Thank you.”

Then, he tugged on his lower lip and mused, almost to himself.

“But I am still hungry.”

“I can make you eggs,” she proposed.”Toast,”

He ran his finger along her arm and murmured, “I have something else in mind. A Bagratian breakfast.”

But if Elain expected him to move and prepare this breakfast, he didn’t shift from his chair.

He thought and then moved his plate and patted the spot that the plate vacated.

“Come here, baby. My beautiful sweetheart,” he urged her off her chair, until she sat, a little stiffly on the table in front of him. “Let’s spread your legs a little, so we are both comfortable,” and he parted her thighs, while pushing himself closer to her, settling between her legs.

“May I have my breakfast?” he asked her, kissing her cheek softly, watching her sink and melt against him.

“Yes,” she gasped.

“This breakfast,” he whispered against her skin, placing slow, open-mouthed kisses on her neck, as he undid the few buttons in the back of the knit shirt, “is very, very popular…”

Elain could barely breathe, let alone pay attention to his explanation. Not when he tugged the shirt down her body, not when his scent washed over her, and not...oh, gods…

Azriel didn’t take his intense gaze off her when he pulled on the silk string of her breast wrap and it parted easily for him. Elain stopped breathing, pink and gorgeously hot in front of him, her hair a halo of dark gold around her, her knuckles white, as she gripped the edge of the table. He smiled and kissed her neck again.

“Why are you so tense?”

“I...I don’t know,” she panted softly, her breasts rising and falling, just barely covered by the silk. “I, Az...oh...I just want you so badly,” she admitted nervously.

“Good.”

And then he flipped the flaps of the wrap off her breasts, baring her completely for himself.

“Why are you so beautiful?” he muttered wholeheartedly, looking at the lovely pink nipples that swell before his eyes, at the soft, generous roundness of her breasts.

Her back arched just a bit, as she displayed herself fully for him, no longer shy, once he laid his eyes on her and took her in with such unabashed hunger in his eyes.

“Taste,” she breathed and at once, he was a male unleashed. He brought her breast to his lips and bit her fat pink nipple, like he did last night. But there was no silk barrier between them today, and she felt his hot breath and the sharp clamp of his teeth over the nipple, as he pulled it deep in his mouth.

She almost tumbled on top of him, but he held her still, threading his fingers with hers, pressing her hands into the table.

“Oh gods,” she moaned, “Az...gods…”

“You are so delicious,” he vowed, working his tongue over the nipple, wrapping it over the little knob, licking and licking with relentless determination. Elain squirmed and panted next to him, but he kept her hands firmly in his grasp, not allowing her to touch him. Her arousal hit him like a wave of pure ambrosia, the scent indescribable, her whole body melding into him. He wished he could adjust himself within his pants, but that would mean releasing her hands and he didn’t want to do that. So he bit the soft flesh of her breast again, sucking on the tender skin and watching tiny purple marks bloom along the trail of his teeth, until he returned to the nipple and sucked it deep into his mouth. She buckled and cried out, babbling something, and grasping his fingers painfully, while he sucked harshly, feeling the nipple grow and firm up in his mouth, lapping on it with ravenous determination.

“Fuck, Elain, baby,” he grunted, licking the underside of her breast, before covering the whole globe with kisses.The kisses were not soft or gentle, but candidly lustful, his mouth possessive, claiming, marking her. “Feels good, my sweet?”

“Az, my love, I need to…” she whined, almost in tears of frustration, especially as he pulled on her nipple with his teeth again, offering her the sweet, lacerating pain that she was craving so much. “Let me touch you,” she begged.

“Right now, it’s for me,” he declined. “If you're touching me, I can’t concentrate on you. Or what I want from you. And your tits are magnificent!”

“Suck more,” she begged, “please…”

“Good fucking girl,” he groaned, and then ordered, “don’t touch,” when he released the grip of one of her hands. Obediently, she pushed her hand under her thigh, so as not to be tempted. He cupped her other breast, squeezing it tightly, quickly learning that gentleness was not something Elain needed. In all his previous fantasies, his assumption was that she’d like a sweet, tender approach. And truth be told, he didn’t expect to unleash on her quite so ferociously right now, surprising even himself. But she took it all, and she wanted more. So when he dug his scarred, strong fingers into her supple flesh, and when he brought the two glorious globes together, to suck her swollen tight nipples at once, he knew that she wanted him to do just that.

He loved breasts. He especially loved Elain’s breasts. But as he worked his mouth on her, sucking both of her lovely nipples, he also loved her response. She almost fell back on the table, and he caught her just in time, before her head landed on the hard surface. He cupped the back of her head, and stretched over her, kissing each swelling breast, and dragging his tongue thoroughly over each nipple, while she leaked and trembled under him.

“Good?”

“Oh good,” she admitted breathlessly. “Why didn’t you do this to me before?”

A smile touched his lips and he tongued her nipples leisurely, watching her, as he reminded her, “This is a forbidden romance, my love.”

“Oh yeah...I forgot,”

“I think that our High Lord doesn’t want me to do anything to you.”

He winked at her and she grimaced. She was ridiculously wet between her legs, but she no longer cared. Actually, she lost all inhibitions and all sense of propriety. She didn’t care about anything, other than his beautiful, demanding mouth on her breasts, his tongue working magic on her nipples.

Before she could do anything, he pulled her up, so she sat back up in front of him.

“I haven't forgotten my breakfast,” he winked at her again, and then, unexpectedly, dipped his fingers in the butter jar, and smeared a generous layer of fatty, creamy sludge over her breast, his thumb teasing her aching nipple inexorably.

“Oh,” she gushed, as he settled on the chair, between her legs, and held the breast in one palm, while concocting something enticing.

“The Bagarat Breakfast Bun,” he explained casually, as if he wasn’t sprinkling her buttered tit with a dash of cinnamon, and then a pinch of sugar. “Who needs pastries, right?” he pondered, and then gobbled her whole breast up, swallowing a good part of it, licking off the sugary spiced butter with his tongue, scraping his teeth over the skin, the nipple.

Elain almost fainted. Her vision darkened and were it not for the support of his massive arm, she surely would have fallen over.

“Sit still, baby, and let me enjoy,” he commanded with pretend sternness, as he treated her other breast with the same care and also added a dash of cream, which leaked obscenely into his mouth off her nipple.

“Oh, I think I like this version more,” he concluded, dribbling more cream over her breast and sucking it off her nipple, along with the butter.

“It’s a lot of fat, this early in the morning,” she protested, “you will have a heart attack!”

“I am immortal,” he reminded her. Then, he ordered, “hold your titties for me, please. So I can enjoy them in peace.”

She smirked, but cupped both of her breasts and presented them to him, as he dipped her nipples in even more cream and sucked hungrily.

“My love,” she cooed to him, after she dipped her nipple into the cream herself and sprinkled it with sugar, “I think that I like your Bagarat pastry.”

“Bun,” he pinched her behind, “Bagarat Bun.”

He sucked a little more.

The little jar of cream was empty.

“Tomorrow, we’ll share it,” he promised, but did not elaborate.

She nodded. She’d agree to anything right now.

“By the end of the week, you’ll be feeding me yourself,” he added and then softly kissed her lips, securing his promise with his mouth.

He straightened and got up, brushing his thumb over her lips and popping it inside, for her to suck. She sucked, willingly, eagerly, watching him.

“And you will be naked,” he concluded, running his hand over her head.

She nodded.

“Would you like that, my good girl?”

She nodded again.

She looked ravaged and he loved it. Swollen tits, dripping with sugar and cream, and coated in the remnants of butter, her hair a mess, her mouth wrapped around his thumb, sucking noisily.

The idea of his cock in that glorious mouth, sucking just as noisily made his unbearably hard. He was already hard as granite, his cock aching and demanding, but when she sucked his fingers, it released a beast within him.

Reluctantly, he pulled out and bent to kiss her.

“Thank you, my love,” she murmured, her brown eyes looking at him with complete adoration.

“It was a perfect breakfast, Lainey,” Azriel smiled. “Thank you. I’ve got to go, but I will see you later?”

“Of course. But I have a request for you to mull over,” she jumped off the table, not bothering to cover up.

“I am listening.”

“I’d like for you to teach me how to handle a dagger.”

#elriel #elriel fanfic #fanfic #acotar fanfiction #elriel fanfiction #azriel #elain x azriel #elain archeron #elain #azriel and elain #my writing #of fawns and shadows

61 notes · View notes

beeroses · 3 years

Text

Tenemos un trato, Querida

@rebelwrites ‘ FanFic Friday is at your door and here is a lil Che loving that is much longer than I expected it to be when I started!! I know the character development we’ve got this season but I’ve tried going with anyone else and the story wasn’t working out for me as much as it did when I finally went with my gut, sue me!! Credit for the gif to the creator. Credit for Che to Raoul but also to Kurt Sutter and Elgin James!

Warnings : mentions of drugs and drug intake without consent (always keep an eye on your glass, people)

I’m gonna go ahead and tag you, @yosoynicolexo just because.. ya know ;)

- Slept well Querida?

You stirred under the covers and slowly peeked an eye out from underneath the warm blanket that covered you. You saw Che smiling at you softly. You sighed and got your head out from the warmth to be met with chills from the temperature difference.

- Yeah, better than I have in a long time.

You looked at him as he approached the tray he was holding in his hands, closer to you and sitting it carefully on the bed. On it were two cups and coffee. Bless him for being so attentive, you could’ve sold your entire family for a cup of coffee.

- Thanks. For everything.

He waved it off, chuckling.

- No I mean it, I can’t imagine what could’ve happened if someone else than you had found me yesterday. I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if the person who put the drug in my drink came around before you did. Thank you for always looking out for me, you said sheepishly.

The night before, you had a couple too many drinks. And the last one, someone put stuff in it that made you lose all your senses. You could barely remember your own name. You were more than grateful that the worse you got was a deathly glare from Taza as he was taking you back to his ranch, safely and putting you in his guestroom, fuzzy blankets and lots of glasses of water around.

- You know how it is, Querida, I’ve got you, always.

He smiled but it was deprived of happiness. It was definitely the saddest smile you’d ever seen in your life. You wished it wasn’t turned to you, you wished that you weren’t the one that caused him to smile like that.

- Look, Che, I’ll get out of your air. You’ve done enough.. and so have I.. I think I should go. Thank you again, for everything, you said rapidly, just wanting out of this situation.

He looked down, and for a second you thought he’d let you leave without another word, which, at this point in your misery, almost made you cry your eyes out but held it in, at least until you were out the door. You gathered your things rapidly and went towards the door.

- Wait Querida.

You turned back around to look at him. He looked.. disappointed? Could it be it? Was he expecting more from you? Were you not living to his expectations ? You were actually even more heartbroken as you’ve always had a thing for Che but never made a move about it because of the age difference. But he always felt like more than just a friend. He felt safe and you felt cared for with him. But now, all you felt was like an utter disappointment and you didn’t know how long you could take that feeling.

- You don’t.. Please don’t say anything. It’s… I don’t think I can hear it… you said shakily, hearing your voice tremble.

- Querida, why are you like this? he asked.

You were wishing you had made a run for it and left before he could say those words. It made you even more miserable. You wished you could just disappear and never come back to Santo Padre.

- Why are you shaking, and crying, Sweetheart, what’s going on, talk to me. He asked again, worry in his voice, carefully taking a few steps forward, towards your entirely shaking body.

And then it flicked. He wasn’t questioning your entire life choices, just your current state. You almost burst out laughing at how panicked it made you.

- I’m sorry, I just… For a second there I thought you despised me. And I couldn’t live with myself if that was the case, you said, smiling sheepishly while looking at the floor.

- I could never despise you, Querida, he said, while brushing some hair from your face. Eres el sol de mis dias, Querida, no podría despreciarte, aunque quisiera*.

His hand stayed on your cheek and you felt the heat radiating both from it and also form your own face. Still unable to look up from the floor, you managed : «Que quieres decir?». You heard a small chuckle coming from him.

- What I’m saying, Querida, is that I could never despise you.

- Che, I understand the words… What does it .. mean.. ? and you heard him chuckle even more.

- I’m a stupid man. I’ve been trying to pretend that I was fine with the backseat role I’ve put myself in, with you. But last night.. Last night was my final straw. I can’t sit in the backseat anymore. I don’t wanna scoop you up like a damsel in distress, I don’t want to be your guardian angel… Let me finish before you leave, Querida. I don’t want to scoop you up, I wanna be the one that takes you out. I’ll still bring you back here, but hopefully, you’ll let me take you out from here too. I hate sleeping in the next room and not being able to cuddle you while you’re sleeping all the way over here. I hate bringing you coffee in my guestroom. I hate seeing you being treated anything less than like a Reina, mi amor.

You finally managed to look up in his eyes. He wasn’t disappointed, earlier, he was actually sad. And at this moment, you realize that you’ve been stupid too.

- I’ve put myself in the backseat too, with you. Who the hell’s driving, Cariño? you asked, with a sheepish smile.

He let out a laugh and a sigh of relief at your words.

- How about I drive us to breakfast?

- I’ll handle the backseat a lil longer. Maybe next time we’re both sitting in the backseat we could make it more entertaining, you know? He grinned at your cheekiness while you surprised yourself with your sudden confidence.

- Yeah, tenemos un trato**, Querida, he said, winking and pulling you in for a kiss.

*You are the sun of my days, I couldn’t despise you, even if I wanted to.

**We’ve got a deal, Sweetheart

116 notes · View notes

pastelwitchling · 3 years

Text

Malex Happily Ever After chapter 114 sequel

Part One.

“Yeah,” Alex said into his phone, rubbing his eyes with his other hand. It was noon, but he hadn’t slept all night, consumed instead with his work at the base, his work in dismantling Project Shepherd, his breakup with Forrest, and his desire to talk to Michael about it all.

He had no idea why. It wasn’t like Michael was usually the epitome of comfort, but . . . Alex always thought, stupidly, that once Michael and Maria had ended things, and he and Forrest ended things, and they were both single again, that they would find their way back to each other. But Michael was keeping distance between them and smirking at Alex’s words every now and then, and it just felt a lot like being back where they started.

He plopped down on his couch and hung his head back to stare at the ceiling as Liz kept talking in his ear. She was saying a lot about the lab and bloodwork and finally finding Mr. Jones. Alex was tired, but he kept up fine. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the duffel bag lying halfway under the couch. The duffel bag he’d packed so many months ago when leaving and never coming back had felt like running away. He’d thrown in a few more things over the past year, and constantly found himself looking to it, just barely having forgotten that it was there.

He stopped listening to Liz, thinking about taking that duffel bag now, throwing it in his car, and just driving. It didn’t feel like running away anymore. He’d tried as hard as he could to be with Michael, and now he found himself along again, feeling worse than ever. Because now he knew Michael had loved somebody else. He knew Michael had tried, but not for him.

Alex pinched the bridge of his nose as Liz went on, ending with the question, “So you think you can come by and check it out?”

Alex shook his head. “Er – sorry, come where?”

“Michael’s bunker,” she said. “That’s where we’re testing the serum. No one’s studied the Project Shepherd reports like you have, I’m thinking if anyone can look at the side-effects of the serum and tell us whether or not they match what was done to the prisoners, then –”

“Right,” Alex shut his eyes, not wanting to hear any more about Project Shepherd and the horrible things they’d done. All the things that Michael was still punishing him for by keeping a distance. “I’m on my way.”

Alex did not move for several long minutes, staring instead at the duffel bag. He probably should’ve taken it and left, but hope was annoying that way, and even though a part of him still clung to the idea that he and Michael would end up together, the bigger part growled that if it was going to take this long, and force Alex to endure seeing Michael with anybody else for even a second, then maybe eventually ending up together just wasn’t worth it.

When he finally got to Michael’s bunker, he couldn’t help but remember when Michael had locked that door behind Alex the last time they’d argued in there. Michael never chased after him, and he was just so sick of waiting for him to do it.

He groaned inwardly and rubbed his eyes. Seriously, he thought. What was wrong with him today? He should just be glad the airstream was back in the junkyard. It had gotten really difficult avoiding the Wild Pony for a while.

He made it down the ladder easily enough, and tossed his backpack on the table next to where Michael was working. Michael looked up at him through his glasses and tilted his chin up in silent greeting. Alex was too tired to pretend like that was remotely satisfying, and without responding turned to Liz.

“Hey,” Liz said happily.

“Hi,” Alex crossed his arms. “What’d you want me to take a look at?”

“Well,” Liz handed him some reports, “we wrote down all of the results of the serum.”

“On whom, may I ask?” Alex raised his brow as he took them. “Who was your test subject this time? Max again?”

Instead of answering, Liz’s eyes traveled over to Michael who, until Alex turned to look at him, had been staring at Alex with a pinch in his brows. Alex’s shoulders sagged.

“Tell me you didn’t.”

He shrugged, his smirk humorless. His mask was up again. “We had to get results quick and I was already here.”

“I told you I didn’t want you being experimented on,” Alex argued.

“Mom did it,” he said. “Guess I wanted to see what the big deal was.”

Alex tensed, and Michael’s smirk fell away.

“Yeah, okay.” He took the last of the files and turned to leave.

“Alex, w-wait –”

“Do whatever you want, Guerin,” Alex said. “I’m done trying to talk you down.”

“Alex, come on!” But it was too late. Alex had made it up the ladder and patted his clothes down, heading over to his car. His jaw was clenched and his eyes burned and a suffocating weight sat on his chest, but he walked ahead.

Of course. Of course, Michael would ignore his concerns, of course he’d want to show Alex just how little value his words carried. You’re not her, so I don’t care what you ask me to do. You don’t matter as much as she did, so I don’t care if you worry. You’re not worth trying for, why would you be worth listening to?

“Stop, Private!” Michael caught his arm and turned him around. He still had his glasses on, but he was panting. Eager to ease his guilt, Alex knew, nothing more. When he saw Alex’s face, his own fell. “Are you – are you crying?”

“No,” Alex turned away, wiping his face furiously. Michael stood there, eyes wide, like he never expected to see Alex cry. Oh screw it. “Yes!” Another tear fell, and he didn’t bother wiping it away. “Okay? Yes, I’m crying.”

“B-Because I took a needle?”

“Oh, Guerin, no, it’s not just because of that!” He paced to the end of the airstream and back, then again. He looked up at Michael’s house, and couldn’t help but remember the way it sat so close to the Wild Pony. Because Michael just had to be close to Maria. Alex couldn’t remember Michael ever so much as following him two feet, but he followed Maria?

He came back to stand in front of Michael, his breaths short and painful. “I’ve had a bag ready since I found your damn airstream at the Wild Pony parking lot. I was going to go, and I wasn’t going to come back. I’ve had it ready since you started dating Maria, since Forrest and I broke up, and I still can’t bring myself to just take it and go. I was terrified something would happen to you if you put that damn crap in your veins, and I didn’t want you to end up like the prisoners in Caulfield. You ignored the one thing I asked you to do with a smile on your face like you think it’s funny that I’m scared, and I still can’t just pick up that stupid bag. It’s unfair, Guerin!”

His lower lip trembled, and he looked away, covering his eyes with his hand. “You can move on and love someone else so freaking easily, and I can’t, and it’s so unfair.”

They stood there for a long time, nothing but the wind whistling in their ears and Alex’s quiet cries. Liz seemed to have the good sense to stay in the bunker. Then Michael suddenly came up behind Alex, and wrapped his arms around him tightly.

“Baby,” Michael breathed against the shell of his ear. “I – I didn’t know, Alex,” he whispered, his voice full of pain. “I thought you didn’t care, I thought you wanted me to stay away. I – I was just holding onto easy, no one ever came close to you. I swear, I thought you didn’t want me anymore . . .”

Alex tried to process all of that. Michael sounded sincere, though maybe that was only because Maria had been the one to end things. That’s right, a bitter voice sounded. She ended things. Not him. After he told her he loved her. Then she ended it.

It occurred to Alex then that maybe Michael was holding onto him for a completely different reason.

A disbelieving, miserable chuckle left his lips, and Michael faltered. Alex brought Michael’s hands down. “Just stop it, Guerin,” he said hoarsely, his throat raw. “I already gave you my word that I’d help, I’m not going to stop just because I’m frustrated.” He shook his head, already walking back to his car. He had to get out of here. “You don’t have to pretend to care about me anymore. You’ll still get what you want.”

Before Alex could take in Michael’s shattered expression or read into it, he got in his car, turned it on, and drove away, needing to put as much distance between the man he loved and himself.

Alex woke slowly to the sun just rising. He was surprised he’d made it up so late, but after working through the files last night, he’d passed out just at sunset. He supposed misery, anguish, and a couple of nights of no sleep in a row really put a person out.

He spotted the files on his desk and laid sideways on his bed for a while. He didn’t think he could get back into the nightmares of his family’s past before a good cup of coffee. He stuffed half his face into his pillow and thought of his conversation yesterday with Michael, how unwilling he’d been to eat or drink or do much of anything besides get to work and be useful afterwards. The memory robbed him of even his comfort in bed.

He forced himself up, and when he was washing up in the bathroom, he thought he heard a rustling somewhere outside, but when he turned the faucet off and listened, he didn’t hear anything. Deciding his exhaustion might be making him imagine things that weren’t there, Alex finished up, grabbed his crutches, and made himself a steaming cup of coffee.

He sat down on his couch and rested back, staring at the ceiling. Once again, his eyes fell to the duffel bag halfway hidden. He imagined, yet again, grabbing it now, getting in his car, and driving away without ever coming back. The thought did not make any part of him any happier than he felt now.

There was nothing but the tree branches rustling in the wind, the birds chirping to one another at the morning sun, wheels on gravel in his backyard –

Alex faltered in his thoughts and picked his head up, his brows pinched. He listened closely, and this time, there was no mistaking it; there was someone in his backyard.

“What the hell?” he murmured and set his coffee cup down before grabbing his crutches. He stepped into his backyard, not knowing what he would find (after all, Roswell was a small town, and people were usually good about not bothering military around here), and stopped.

There, behind his circular tables and chairs, was Michael’s airstream. Michael stepped out, wiping his hands on a towel, and smiled at Alex.

He came to stand a foot away from him, his hands twitching at his sides as if eager to reach out and touch. “Can I kiss you good morning?”

Instead of answering, Alex asked, “Guerin, what is this?”

Michael’s smile widened, and he took that as the permission he needed before he closed the distance between them, taking Alex’s face in his hands and kissing his lips both deeply and softly at the same time. He pulled away with a deep sigh, pressing their foreheads together, his eyes closed, as if he could finally breathe.

“I love you,” he whispered, letting his hands fall down Alex’s neck, his shoulders, his arms, and staying on his waist, gripping tightly. “I missed you so much.”

Alex’s eyes started to flutter, but before he could fall into whatever wonderland being around Michael pulled him into, he swallowed and took a step back.

“Why’s your trailer here?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

Michael looked like he hated the distance between them just as much as Alex did, the mask of humor and indifference he usually wore completely gone.

“After Forrest,” he said, “I thought . . . I thought you were better off without me. I thought you wouldn’t want me when you’d already had someone . . . better.” He came closer to Alex, pleading with him to understand. “Alex, I thought you wanted me to stay away. And I was so terrified that I would get too close, and you would hate me, and tell me to leave and not come back. So I stayed a safe distance, and I hated every second of it.”

Alex shook his head. “Why?” he said, his voice breaking despite himself. “Why’d you try so hard for her?”

“It wasn’t for her,” Michael urged. “It was for me. I needed . . . easy. I needed not that bad. I had no idea what I was doing, I acted like Max, I . . .” he shook his head. “Private, I don’t even know who that person was. The only time I felt like myself, like I could actually be myself and still be loved was when I was with you.”

Michael huffed a shaky chuckle, and roughly wiped his face with one hand. “Besides,” he said, “I left that parking lot the next day.” He looked over his shoulder at his airstream as it sat beside Alex’s things, and smiled with such sincerity that Alex hadn’t seen on his face in too long. He looked back at Alex with bright eyes. “But I think this looks good here. Don’t you?”

Alex looked from the airstream to Michael, and he huffed a chuckle. A tear rolled down his cheek, and he sniffed and wiped it away. “I just needed you to show up at my front door.”

Michael laughed, pulling Alex in against him and hugging him tightly. As he buried his face in the crook of Alex’s neck, Alex took his chance to press his face to Michael’s shoulder and inhale his scent.

“I want to do more than show up,” Michael said against his skin. “I want to stay, Alex. I want to stay, please let me stay.”

Alex hugged Michael so closely that nothing could’ve fit between their bodies. He felt Michael’s heart race, Michael’s lips against his neck, Michael whimpering under his breath as he desperately pulled them closer and closer together.

Alex whispered, “Stay, Guerin. I want you to stay.”

***

If you enjoyed reading, even just a little bit, please comment and share/reblog, it always makes the world of a difference ❤

#alex manes #michael guerin #malex #malex fic #malex fanfic #malex fanfiction #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #malex angst #malex fluff #tyler blackburn #michael vlamis

59 notes · View notes

giorno-plays-piano · 3 years

Text

Money, Money, Money Part 1

Pairing: mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader, slight Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: lots of swearing, silly drunk mobs, mentions of alcoholism, parody, Peter is adult, is this a crack fic??

Words: 2578.

Summary: When Steve finds out somebody has stolen their money, Bucky realizes he has to take his ass off the leather couch in his office, finally.

P.S. This is my first attempt to write humor and I’m sorry in advance for everything I’ve written here 😅

_________________

“BITCH, DID I STUTTER WHEN I SAID TO KEEP THAT SAFE CLOSED AT ALL TIMES?”

Allyson massaged her temples softly and let out a groan: if Mr. Rogers continued to yell like that, he would definitely choke soon. This morning he had been pretending to be the death, vengeance and fury, ready to kick the ass of her immediate superior, James Barnes, who acted like he was deaf, unable to pull himself from the couch where he slept after getting drunk as a fish last night. Oh, poor Bucky. Apparently, he fucked things up again if Mr. Rogers stormed into his office like he was getting chased by a 200-pound dog.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, you son of a...” glancing at a pouting man-child with a three-day beard, Steve covered his face with his palm and let out an exasperated sigh, “... respectable woman who would die of shame if she saw you now!”

“Come on, Stevie,” the man yawned, finally moving his huge, muscular body up to sit instead of just laying on the couch since he felt a little guilty Steve was getting all riled up while he just chilled, “why so serious? Yeah, somebody took a bit of cash from the safe, it’s not a big deal.”

Allyson heard everything as if they were speaking right in front of her - Bucky was a real Mr. Cheapo who didn’t want to rent an office with decent walls - and quickly closed her ears, wishing she had taken her earplugs today. Her boss just made a grave mistake, and now both of them were going to pay for it with their eardrums.

“NOT A BIG DEAL? NOT A BIG DEAL, YOU MASSIVE BAG OF DOUCHE?! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH MONEY WAS THERE, HUH?! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT THOSE MONEY WERE FOR?!”

Seriously, she considered getting a new job, but these free daily standup shows were both tiring and so fucking funny she was afraid she might wet her seat.

“Oh my fucking God, Bucky, I swear I’ll kill you, I’ll... no, I have a better idea!” Steve gave his best friend a dirty look. “I’ll call your uncle. Yeah, you know which one. He’ll be sooo happy to take you drunk ass to jail and then give your mama a call. I bet she has a cure for both your attitude and alcoholism.”

“You wouldn’t do that!”

Suddenly realizing the danger he was in, Bucky quickly got up, almost falling to the floor but holding on the leather chair in the very last second. When Steve talked about calling his uncle, a chief of police of the neighboring town where his whole family lived, it meant things were going bad. Real bad.

“Bucky, it was the part we were going to invest into Pierce’s casino. I have to take it to him tomorrow morning. TOMORROW FUCKING MORNING, DO YOU HEAR ME, YOU STINKING DRUNK?”

“I’m drunk but not deaf, Steve!”

“Oh my God, I’m driving you to a rehab, go gather your stuff right now!”

Allyson sighed, getting up and proceeding to choose the most beautiful cup to fill it with fresh coffee: when their conflicts escalated to threats, it meant her boss would soon start to sweet-talk, apologizing to his best friend and promising to sober up and get things right. Every time she felt like Mr. Rogers would really do something to Bucky, the guy used his natural charisma and charm and got away with anything by just reminding Steve how he fought for his best friend in the dark alleys when Rogers was a sick, skinny kid. It worked every damn time.

There they were again, talking about same things with Bucky swearing on his mother’s life that he will find the money and bring it back to Steve. Usually it meant the threats were coming to an end, and soon Mr. Rogers would open the door and come out red as a lobster, breathing heavily as if he just ran a marathon. There he would see her with a cup of nice coffee with cream and two spoons of sugar just like he preferred, gladly accepting it and saying nobody understand him but her. Then Allyson would smile compassionately, listen to his small talk before he went out the office, and wait until her grumpy boss would fall out the room, reeking alcohol, and ask her what the fuck had happened yesterday.

After that in a couple of minutes things would finally settle down, and Allyson would have a chance to give a call to her best friend.

_______________________________

Your day couldn’t start better: you had finally received your Amazon order - hooray to the stupid makeup tools you would use, like, once a year - and even watched your favorite Netflix series with a cup of a fragrant coffee with marshmallows because it was Sunday and you were finally free from both work and cleaning the apartment. It felt so nice to just do absolutely nothing, laying on your couch with a piece of pizza in your hand. Seriously, even a workaholic like you had to do it more often.

Your lazy morning was interrupted by Peter, a sweet college student who was getting into troubles more often than a drunk in a local bar: you seriously considered calling him Harry Potter after you found him half-naked with a scratch on his forehead standing in the corridor of your building and holding a broom. To protect himself from bullies, he said, by the look on his face you could tell it was as good as a magic wand against 6"4 ft tall guys, seriously.

Since he rented an apartment with other unlucky nerds who had zero skills how to survive in this cruel world, you ended up nearly baby-sitting Peter, patching him up after he was getting in a fight and lending him some money time after time when he struggled to pay rent or buy food. His parents were elderly people with income below average, but they still did whatever they could to give him an education, so you decided to give the guy a hand.

Now that baby was standing in front of you, lit up like a Christmas tree, with a bouquet of wonderful pink roses, big box of hand-crafted chocolates and a whole bag of what looked like some very fine food, even a bottle of champagne clinking inside.

"Good morning, Fairy Godmother! I came to bring back what I owe you!" His smile was a mile wide when he looked at your face, happy to the point he couldn't stand still, dancing like those Duracell rabbits in the tv ad.

"You're up early, Cinderella."

You yawned, laughing when you saw the guy pouting at the nickname you gave him - tf he expected for calling you Fairy Godmother?

"Don't stand there, come in."

When he actually handed you the flowers and chocolates, giving you a quick peck on the cheek shyly, you froze, finally realizing he brought all this for you. Wait, what? Where the heck did he get so much money to buy that expensive stuff? You thought he was helping his other neighbor who was planning to finally propose to his girlfriend. Perplexed to the point you nearly missed that peck, you blinked at tomato red Peter.

"Please don't tell me you robbed your 90-year-old paralytic professor."

"Why don't you ask if I robbed a bank?" He pouted again, putting the bag on the floor and getting a hundred dollar banknote out of his old leather wallet. "I actually came to thank you for everything you've done for me. And I didn't rob anyone! I got a real job!"

"Real job?" You eyed him curiously. "But don't you already have a job in delivery?"

"Pfft, you can't call it a job. It was getting one nasty smelling pizza from one place to the other while looking miserable."

You barely held your laugh, leaving the bouquet and chocolates on the side table and rubbing guy's back. Poor Peter, nobody was giving him a hand - while you couldn't question people's decision since the guy wasn't the most reliable one, it was still a shame he wasn't treated decently as if all of them weren't young and careless once.

Wait, but who on Earth gave him such a well-paid job all of a sudden? He must have spent hundreds of dollars on the bouquet, chocolates, food and champagne, not even counting those 100 dollars he owed.

Oh God.

"Please don't tell me you're working for some shady business." You looked at him in horror, your hand flying to your mouth. "Peter, is it Tony's band?!"

"Jesus woman, why would I work for some stupid mob." The guy rolled his eyes, and you sighed in relief, not knowing what to except from this trouble on two skinny legs. “I’m telling you, it’s nothing bad! I just have to keep it a secret before I get a contract. Once I figure it out, I’ll explain everything, I swear!”

“Alright, alright, don’t stress over it, I’m not your Ma.” Smirking, you went to take a square glass vase you hadn’t use in ages, filling it with water to drop the bouquet inside. “Let’s celebrate it, then! Woah, careful there, give me that bottle until you drop it on my clean floor, I’ve been scrubbing it for hours yesterday!”

_______________________

Bucky still felt like Steve was making too much of a big deal out of it: obviously, it was Tony who went to him at night when Bucky was already drunk like a monkey, celebrating the birth of Clint’s daughter. Nobody else had the courage to steal from him, Steve’s right hand, an ex-soldier who had a reputation of a man killing with the first punch. Not that Bucky ever killed anybody, actually being a ex-trumpet in an army band...

Anyway, the man was heading over to Stark’s Tower, a motel where he and all his guys lived when his wife Pepper was out of town. Pepper had definitely been out of town lately since Tony didn’t call: when she was coming back, Steve and Tony were having a two-day truce with nobody getting in a fight because it was making Mrs. Stark upset, and when she was upset, both Steve and Tony didn’t risk getting out of their holes to face this enraged blonde woman who could make anyone wet themselves with one her glance. If there were anyone killing with just one punch in the town, it got to be Pepper.

As he got closer in his Cadillac that looked like it went through fire and water before being sold to Bucky, Barnes stared at the motel suspiciously: it was strangely quiet with everyone hiding inside, not a man guarding the motel’s entrance. What the hell happened? Tony loved showing off, pretending he ruled over the town, and he would definitely act like a king after stealing Steve’s and his money. It was unbelievable Bucky so nobody welcoming him with a smirk.

Hoping he didn’t use all that money for emptying a liquor store, Bucky parked the car and went to the motel, dying to have some beer: one heartless blonde boss of his emptied his fridge.

“Oh, more drinking partners returning to continue the fun, huh?”

Bucky froze immediately, staring at Pepper who stood in the doorway with a face of an iron maiden. Jesus fucking Christ. She returned to the city way before Tony told him, and it was clear she found him not in the condition she expected to. While Bucky considered whether it was better to run, Tony’s head appeared somewhere behind his wife, and Barnes saw Tony was as drunk as him, if not even more. He could see a huge blue mark from Pepper’s heavy hand on Stark’s cheek.

“Who’s that, honey?” The man asked innocently, earning an enraged glance from his wife, and Bucky thought he should have run. “Hi, Buck! Come on in, it’s ok if you didn’t bring beer even if I asked twice.”

Oh. Something was going on. Of course, Bucky could rat the man out immediately, telling Pepper he wasn’t drinking with Tony yesterday’s night, but he wasn’t such a heartless bastard - by the look on Stark’s face Barnes could see his sweet blonde wifey would beat poor Tony to death with her Dior handbag.

“Sorry, I blacked out for a couple of hours in my car.” He mumbled, bowing his head in respect. “Pepper, such a pleasure to see you.”

“Come on in, alcoholic.” Her gaze was heavy, and Bucky shivered a little, carefully leaving his shoes near the door and scurrying away to the coach where Tony sat, nervously biting his fingers. “Well, do you wanna tell me something, huh? How many hookers have you brought here yesterday?”

Glancing to Tony and back to Pepper, Barnes suddenly realized his frenemy had been so drunk he had no hecking idea whether somebody really brought hookers to the motel - it was a total taboo, but once they got drunk they could barely control themselves. Once they literally woke up to a Santa Claus singing Jingle Bells in the tub in the middle of June because Tony missed Christmas.

Of course, Stark would never slip up the night before Pepper was coming back to town, but, apparently, she didn’t stay with her mom for as long as she planned, and Tony was royally fucked.

“I’ve asked you a question.”

And now Bucky was, too, if he didn’t think of something quick. Of course, he could tell her the truth, but it meant losing Tony completely, and Barnes didn’t want that. A real mafioso should have at least one strong enemy, right?

“I’m sorry, Pepper, but I don’t think there were any hookers here last night.” He said, carefully choosing words. “You see, first, Tony never allows us to. Second, we’re good Christians. We would never invite some hookers when we celebrated the birth of Clint’s daughter!”

As he got silent, enjoying the effect his words were having on Pepper, Bucky looked at the man sitting to his right, watching Tony’s eyes watering: it was definitely God himself who sent Barnes his way that morning, saving his from near death. Nothing would work better than this excuse. Clint and all Bucky’s guys were so drunk to the point they barely remembered what had happened, and it would be easy to convince them Tony and his gang came to see Barnes for something and ended up staying with all of them.

Besides, there was a nice bonus Bucky could add to make it work even better.

“By the way, Clint named her Natasha. That’s also the name of your mom, right?”

By the look on Tony’s face the man realized he was ready to sing.

“How did he know my mom’s name?” Pepper eyed Steve’s right hand distrustfully, but he could tell she was less irritated.

“Oh, you know, he and his wife couldn’t choose the name, so we started saying whatever names we knew, and Tony mentioned Natasha.”

For a second Bucky thought Stark was going to kiss him through excess of joy.

When he finally left the motel, getting his pack of beer given him by lovely Pepper who changed the anger to mercy, Tony ran out of the house after him, giving him a pat on the shoulder and whispering quietly, “I own you one, brother.”

Bucky sighed. Stark didn’t take the money.

______________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @iheartsebandchris @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers #peter parker #peter parker x reader #winter soldier #mcu #crack fic #mcu fanfiction

69 notes · View notes

prettywordsyouleft · 3 years

Text

Stuck On You

Pairing: Park Sungjin x female reader

Genre: domestic au / fluff

Warnings: it gets a little spicy but nothing detailed

Word count: 1671

You woke up in the middle of the night, throwing the blankets aside so you could hook one of your legs out from under them.

God, it was so hot.

Your singlet was damp with sweat, and the blankets underneath you also felt clammy. The problem wasn’t just the summer heat, though that didn’t make it any easier either. Glancing at the sleeping man beside you, you sighed. It wasn’t Sungjin’s fault there was no room in this bed too.

It was the bed.

You’d had this bed for ten years now. Although it had seen you through your young adult years well, it was now outdated. You had travelled with it from your childhood bedroom to your first rental that you shared with some friends during university, and then from there to the apartment you moved into after graduation. You had every intention of upgrading at some point, but when you were single, it was spacious enough for one.

You hadn’t expected to fall in love with Sungjin as fast as you had. Nor had you imagined being married to him – or anyone – after only a year of dating. Whilst you were certain you would love him for the rest of your life, the early nuptials meant your savings went to a dress and a venue, not a new bed.

So here you were, sharing your double-sized bed with your husband.

Over winter, it had its perks. You definitely weren’t cold back then. But you still were limited on how much space you each had. And that was what played into your restless sleep now. You couldn’t get away from the heat of Sungjin’s body no matter how close to the edge of the bed you slept.

Calculating your combined income, you wondered if you could splurge on a new bed any time soon. You were both at the lower end of the ladder in your careers. Sungjin’s band hadn’t quite hit the big time yet, though he made a steady enough income to make ends meet. You were waiting for a promotion to increase your hourly pay.

Then you would be able to afford the bed.

Groaning, you sat up and yanked the singlet over your head. You knew it wouldn’t help with much, but one less obstruction in getting some sleep was worth it. You wrestled with your pillow until it felt as if you were in a good position and closed your eyes, wishing for sleep to come and knock you out completely.

You were awake an hour later. And this time, so was Sungjin. Your husband looked over at you miserably. “If it wouldn’t cost so much to run the air conditioning right now, I’d turn it on.”

“It doesn’t even reach our bedroom,” you lamented, and Sungjin shrugged.

“Still, maybe it would flow in here since the door is open.”

“We need a bigger bed.”

“And a new refrigerator.”

“The dryer stopped working yesterday. I’m hoping it was just because of the heat,” you added on, and both of you sighed heavily.

“Life’s hard, isn’t it?”

“It can be.”

Sungjin turned onto his side and stared at you lovingly. “It would be worse without you, Mrs Park.”

“Absolutely unbearable, Mr Park,” you agreed, leaning in to nuzzle his nose with yours.

And somehow, despite the heat and the stickiness of your bodies, you managed to fall asleep in each other’s arms, sharing your combined misery and happiness as one.

However, you weren’t entirely well-rested the following morning, and your best friend Sarah picked up on it. “What kept you awake last night? Wait. Is the honeymoon period not over yet?”

“Har-har,” you replied dryly, gulping down more of your iced coffee. “It’s so hot.”

“This heatwave is something else,” Sarah mentioned and took a bite of her muffin. She then slumped in her chair. “How did you do it by the way?”

“Do what?”

“When you and Sungjin moved in together, did you struggle at all? I have too much stuff to fit in the flat Wonpil and I have rented.”

You grinned at her. “Ah, young love.”

“Don’t young love me, we’re all around the same age. Just because you and Sungjin are acting like an old married couple.”

“We’re a struggling married couple,” you admitted with a wistful smile. “Marriage is great, but I totally get why some people save up for their lives together first. We can’t even afford a new bed any time soon, and we need it. Ours is way too small for the two of us.”

“I think I can help you guys out,” Sarah announced and you dismissed it instantly. “I know your mind instantly went to financially and that’s not what I meant. Wonpil and I are moving in together.”

“I know that much, you’ve been proclaiming about this step in your relationship for over a month now.”

“Y/N, we both have two queen-sized beds. We’re only going to need one.”

You perked up immediately, leaning over the table towards Sarah. “You know how much I adore you, right?!”

“If you and Sungjin can help us move this weekend, I’ll give you the bed, and anything else you want that I can’t fit in at the flat.”

Sliding your blouse’s sleeves up your forearms for emphasis, you beamed at your friend. “Name a time, and we’ll be there with our muscles at the ready!”

You were exhausted again, but this time was from helping Wonpil and Sarah move house. Once they were both settled in at their new flat, you used the band’s van to transport the second bed and Wonpil’s dryer back to your own home. Dinner was ordered in, and you spent most of the evening relaxing on the couch with Sungjin until you decided it was finally time for bed.

Despite the lack of energy you had, you skipped down to the bedroom, eyeing the new addition to the room. You had discarded your old bed into your spare room for now and all that was left was to make the bed.

Sungjin slipped his arms around your waist and rested his head upon your shoulder. “You’re too happy.”

“Of course! We’re going to have so much space. And this bed is almost new too. Sarah only got it at the start of the year.”

“I love seeing you this happy.”

“And you’re not? I bet you’ll be glad to wake up tomorrow and not have to lift my legs off of yours.”

“You do that to be close to me, not because the bed naturally rolls us together,” Sungjin teased, going around his side of the bed and laying on the bare mattress. He glanced over at you and patted the empty side for you to join him. “I’m too tired to even make this bed. Can’t we do that tomorrow?”

Once sprawled out on the mattress, you giggled. “It’s like a new beginning now. We finally have a bed big enough for newlyweds.”

“Then you know what happens with a new beginning,” he suggested, his gaze warming you up. “I think we’ll have to christen this.”

“Do you even have any energy left? You just mentioned how tired you were.”

Sungjin grinned wickedly, scooping you up in his strong embrace. “I always have energy when it comes to loving you.”

You groaned, feeling how sweaty you were again. Opening your eyes, you glanced around the darkened bedroom, washing your eyes over Sungjin. You couldn’t see all of his face due to how it was buried into your shoulder. His legs were entangled with yours, and an arm was over your waist.

You couldn’t help but grin at the irony.

Even with all the space in the world, your husband was basically on top of you once again. You’d been sharing this queen-sized bed for a month now, and in the beginning, you rejoiced by having so much extra room. However, your bodies always migrated to one another in the middle of the night, and you’d wake up in the morning snuggled into his side.

You silently apologised to your last faithful bed for all the times you had cursed it out.

You managed to get a little more sleep until you felt Sungjin stir beside you, trying to unwind himself away from you. However, you blindly moved along the bed with him.

“And you complained about how little space we had,” he whispered, thinking you were still asleep.

“I guess old habits are hard to break,” you responded and opened your eyes, Sungjin instantly smiling when your gaze connected with his. You moved your hand up to cup his jaw fondly. “I woke up earlier sweating. I think we need to splurge on a fan or something. Then we might be able to keep cool.”

“Or we could get a body pillow and stick it between us as a line not to cross.”

You giggled. “You and I both know we’d discard that. Let’s face it. We can’t bear to be apart from one another.”

“Stuck on you,” Sungjin mused, nodding softly. “I should write a song about it.”

“Lyrics about the realities of married life? Will you write about us fighting over who was meant to empty the dishwasher last night too?”

“Domestic life isn’t one that we’ve sung about enough in the band. Maybe the guys will humour me over it,” Sungjin suggested with a chuckle, and you snuggled into his chest, enjoying the remaining vibration of his humour.

“Wonpil and Jae both live with their girlfriends now, I’m sure they’d be down for it.”

“You know, even if we got the biggest bed size possible, I don’t think I could ever sleep on a side away from you.”

“You can’t get enough of me, huh?” you teased, and Sungjin captured your lips in a lazy kiss.

“Babe, like you said before old habits are hard to break. And maybe I don’t want to try and break them either.”

“You’re worth losing sleep over,” you agreed, pecking his lips again.

_________________

[DAY6 Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

#kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #sungjin fiction #sungjin fanfic #sungjin fluff #sungjin scenarios #sungjin au #day6 #day6 fiction #day6 fanfic #day6 scenarios #day6 fluff #day6 au #kpop fiction #kpop fluff #kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios

96 notes · View notes

official-weasley · 3 years

Text

Meant to Be (Charlie Weasley x OC)

What happens when Bill brings home a girl and Charlie is completely awestruck by her?

WARNINGS: curse words, minor mentions of alcohol

Chapter 15

Charlie

I woke up abruptly the next morning after hearing something break in the kitchen. The headache was drumming against my skull and as I rubbed my eyes the events of last night all came back. I couldn't stop a smile painting my face.

I haven't felt this happy in a long time. I also haven't felt so tired in ages. I went to grab the alarm clock on my nightstand. We slept for 2 hours. Let's just say that we were too busy breaking Rhylee's orgasm record over and over again.

“Shit.” I put the clock back as I heard her voice.

There were still clothes all over the floor and it took me a minute to find some boxers.

“Rhy?” I rushed to the kitchen to see what she was doing.

I leaned on the doorway of my bedroom and yawned. The kitchen was empty. Where was she? Just as I yawned again she stormed past me out of the bathroom. She didn’t even glance at me, her cheeks soaked with tears.

This isn’t going to end well, is it?

“Rhy?” I said her name again and when I didn’t get a response, her only trying to wipe her cheeks, I decided to put a stop to this.

I walked over to her slowly, careful not to startle her as it looked like she wasn’t really present. I extended my arm to reach hers.

“Don’t…” She jumped away, finally acknowledging my being there. “Please, don’t touch me.” She sniffed and started wiping her tears away again.

She was wearing her dress over her waist, her breasts bare naked.

She was a complete mess.

She rubbed her nose with the back of her hand and started stumbling around the apartment again, desperately trying to find something.

I was observing her for a minute, trying to figure her out but couldn’t. I couldn’t bear to look at her being so miserable.

“Can you stop for a minute?”

“No, no I can’t, Charlie!” She stopped anyway and finally looked at me.

I wish she hadn’t.

I knew that look. That’s how I looked at Bill the morning he woke me up when we slept together at the Burrow. The guilt. The realization of what happened and just how wrong it was. It broke something in me, her looking at me like that.

I knew this was going to happen. I knew it was a bad idea but I just couldn’t stop. I couldn’t resist kissing her. I know we were drunk but we weren’t that drunk that we weren’t aware of what we were doing.

I remember everything. Every second, every kiss, every touch, every moan. And I know she does too. That’s why she is panicking so much right now. She has absolutely no idea what to do about the situation or with the feeling inside her chest. I know it’s tearing her apart and I feel bad that I don’t feel guilty.

If I knew she was happy with Nick, I would. Heck, I probably wouldn’t even make a move yesterday. I would let her go when she tried to leave. But I know she wasn’t happy. Everything she did, told me she wasn’t and I couldn’t understand why was she still with him.

We could be together. I know we are made for each other. It was definitely perfect last night and I am not talking just about sex. That was a bonus. It was so much more. The feeling of belonging. Us laughing like idiots in the shower. The looks we gave each other. How she fell asleep in my arms, moving more and more into me as if I wasn’t close enough.

We didn’t talk much, but we didn’t have to. We said enough with just being together. We understood each other on a level that I never thought possible and no words could ever explain it better than our actions.

Was it wrong if I felt hopeful? Was it wrong that I didn’t feel bad at all and if I could I would repeat last night without thinking twice about it? I probably was. Perhaps I was a bad person for thinking like this, but I couldn’t help it. If I thought I was in love with her before then I don’t even know how to describe my feelings now.

I took a deep breath. I know what was about to happen. Her gazing in my eyes like that didn’t mean anything good. She was in the position I was at that Christmas morning. She was the one who didn’t know what to do.

She was standing still, looking at me with an empty expression. I know she was having a battle in her head. I slowly moved toward her. She said she doesn’t want me to touch her. I want to respect that but her hair was a mess and I couldn’t resist brushing a lock of it off her face. She trembled under my touch, closing her eyes.

It pained me that she tormented herself like this. I know she didn’t mind my presence. I know she wanted more of these moments. She wanted so much more but she didn’t allow herself to feel what she so desperately wanted to. I was standing right there, ready to be hers, to be completely devoted to her and it broke my heart knowing she won’t allow herself to feel the happiness that would bring her.

“I can’t.” She shook her head and stepped backward. “I can’t.” The tears running down her face ran over the traces the tears left before. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”

She buried her fingers into her hair and for a second I thought she will start pulling on it. She was completely losing it.

I wrapped my hands around her and held her tight as she moved around, trying desperately to get out of my grip.

“Let…me…go…Charlie.” She said through her sobs. She will have to try harder for me to just let her go and ignore the pain she was feeling right now. She started slamming her fists against my chest. “Let me go. This is so unfair!” She finally gave up and dug her head into my shoulder.

I don’t think I ever heard someone cry so loudly. I thought she was going to hyperventilate and I didn’t know what to do. How am I supposed to help her? I know that nothing anybody said to me the last time could make me feel better. Could make the guilt go away. I didn’t want her to end up like me. Beating herself over and over about it for 2 years.

“Rhy, please talk to me.” I whispered and kissed her forehead.

I wasn’t thinking anymore. I just did it. She whimpered at my touch, pressing harder against me.

“I…” She said into my shoulder.

“Yes?” I encouraged her.

“I…” I gently pushed her away and lifted her chin with my right hand. “I can’t find my bra.” She said with the most innocent voice and the saddest eyes I have ever seen.

I had to bite my cheeks not to chuckle. She was so cute. She was looking for her bra and here I was, thinking she lost it for not putting her dress on.

“Okay.” I said slowly and locked my fingers with hers. I accompanied her to the couch and gently pushed her shoulders down to make her sit. I leaned to her so that our eyes locked. “How about I go find your bra and you wait here?”

“Thank you.” She rubbed her nose.

I hurried to the bedroom, scanning the floor for her bra. Where did I take it off yesterday? Not by the closet, or the nightstand. It wasn’t on the bed or anywhere around the big pile of clothes she threw out of my drawer yesterday. I finally spotted it by the wall and picked it up.

“Here you go.” I sat down next to her and handed her the bra.

“Thank you.” She tried smiling but it seemed she didn’t have the strength to pull it of.

She put on her bra and put her dress back on.

“Want me to zip it for you?” I offered and she shook her head, staring at absolutely nothing in front of her.

We sat in silence for solid five minutes. I didn’t know what to do. She didn’t look like she wanted to leave. She was nervous, I could tell and I know she was going about something in her head. I just wish she would talk to me. I know we could work this out together.

“I’m sorry for what happened last night.” I swallowed hard.

I had to say something. I had to break the silence. I didn’t want to say what came out of my mouth and we both knew it wasn’t true. There wasn’t a moment of last night for which I was sorry about.

“I can’t believe you’re apologizing to me.” She pressed her hand against her chest. “I don’t know what you remember,” she paused to collect herself, “but I remember everything.” She whispered the last word and bit her lip.

“So do I.” Suddenly my voice lost all its volume and my heart started beating like crazy.

We were in that zone again. The place of so many unspoken things we wanted to share with each other but just didn’t find the courage to say them.

“I kissed you, Charlie. You have nothing to feel guilty about.” She was still looking away.

It seemed she was thinking of what to say next.

“Look…” I sighed.

I know I’ll regret what is about to come out of my mouth. I wanted to tell her that she has nothing to feel guilty about. I wanted to say that she should leave Nick and be with me.

Heck, I’ll tell him for her!

“Nobody knows you were here last night. We don’t have to tell anyone.”

But I couldn’t. I said this stupid thing instead.

I know how much I hurt Bill when we slept together and he was my brother. This guy, prick or not, loved her in his own way and I can’t bring myself to put myself first. I can’t put my happiness first. It’s her decision. She’s the only one who knows what she wants to do with what happened between us.

“We can keep it a secret.”

“I can’t do that, Charlie.” She bowed her head, pressing her lips tightly together. “I have to tell Nick.” She wiped off another tear. “It’s only fair to him. I can’t lie to him about something this,” she inhaled sharply and locked her eyes with mine, “big.” She finished the sentence with a breath.

“I have to go.” She suddenly stood up as if coming up with a plan and walked to the door, her dress still unzipped.

“Rhylee, wait!” I got up and tried stopping her.

Before I could reach her she was already out the door, slamming it behind her.

I didn’t know what to do. I know she needed to be alone. It was better if she told him. It’s what I should’ve done the second Bill woke me up at the Burrow. It pained me to know what she is going through. The scenarios of what he will say to her rolling through her head. I wish I could do it with her.

The part that terrified me was that I had no idea what will happen. Will they break up? Fuck, I feel terrible for thinking that. But how I wish it would happen. I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. I can’t think about it. She’ll have to tell me sooner or later anyway and I am done feeling guilty for what I want.

I love her.

I want to be with her.

There I said it.

I know she’s in a relationship but this is how I feel. Does it make me a bad person? I don’t care. I feel it in my heart that we should be together. That we belong together and I am not going to push that feeling aside and I will definitely not ignore it. Not anymore.

I put on some clothes and decided to go to the tavern for breakfast for a change. Truth be told, I was dying to know what happened between Theo and Gerta, and knowing my friends, they were already up and chatty.

Walking there I promised myself to not say anything about me and Rhylee. I was confident that they didn’t see us leaving the party together and even though Rhylee decided to tell Nick, I am keeping my end of the bargain and staying quiet. She already feels embarrassed enough about kissing me and letting last night happen and I don’t want to do anything to make that worse for her.

“A mate can’t lose you in a crowd if he wanted to.” I chuckled and sat down next to my friends.

They were the loudest in the whole place, laughing at something.

“Are you calling us loud, Weasley?” John smirked.

“I could hear you from a mile away.” I teased.

“What can I get you, dear?” A waitress stopped at our table.

“Just some coffee, thank you.” I smiled and she walked away.

“We could say the same for you, lover boy.” Peter winked at me.

“What?” I was generally confused by his words.

“Oh, Charlie. Charlie, yeah that’s the spot. Fuck yeah, Char-lie.” John imitated moaning and I thought my eyes will fall out of their sockets.

How in the bloody hell did they know I had sex last night?

“Left you speechless there, Weasley?” Andrew started laughing.

“I am genuinely lost for words.” I said honestly.

What does one reply to something like that?

“How about you tell us who you were with last night?” Evan leaned on his arms.

“Who was the lucky girl that screamed your name so much?” Peter followed his lead.

So they didn’t know I was with Rhylee? At least it didn’t look like they knew. If they did, they would ask way more questions.

“First of all, I would like to know, how the fuck do you know? Did you fall asleep on my front porch?” I am not telling them anything before I find out how much they know.

“Peter and I were one of the last to leave last night and since everything has quietened down and you and your lady friend weren’t exactly trying to keep it down it was pretty hard to miss, walking past your hut.” Evan pursed his lips, preventing a smile from spreading across his face.

“Alright, you got me.” I sighed and lifted my hands in defeat. “You know I was in the library a lot these past few weeks.” They all nodded, waiting eagerly for me to continue. “I met this girl there a few times and we flirted a little. I saw her at the party last night and well,” I took a sip of my coffee, “you heard the rest.”

I don’t think I was ever so proud of myself for lying. I did meet a girl in the library and we did flirt but that was it. I had no idea she would be such a perfect alibi!

“Lucky girl!” John waggled his eyebrows.

“Damn, I was hoping you would say it was Rhylee.” Theo screwed his face.

I stiffened. If they only knew.

“Nah. We danced to a couple of songs and then I took her home. She was really drunk.” That was my plan initially but boy did my night take a turn.

“So are you seeing this girl again?” Evan asked.

It was unbelievable how they bought my lie.

“Does he ever see a girl he sleeps with again?” Theo rolled his eyes at Evan and I laughed.

“While we’re on the topic…” I turned to Theo. “What happened with you last night?”

“What do you think happened!” Theo grinned. “Gerta and I made sweet, sweet love!” We all burst out laughing.

“You two moving in together or what?” Andrew teased.

“Have you gone completely mad?” Theo frowned at him. “Does Gerta seem like a type of woman that can be approached while being sober?”

“Oh, come on, Theo.” I started. “She loves you.” I said, making a kissy face.

“Bugger off, Weasley, before I make that smug expression disappear from your face!” He rolled his sleeves up, ready to punch me.

We all started laughing again. There was nothing better than making fun out of Theo. He was just too gullible not to mess with!

#harry potter fanfiction #charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfiction #the weasleys #weasley family #hp imagine #charlie weasley x oc #charlie weasley imagine #the burrow #harry potter imagine #weasley fanfiction #charlie weasley x mc #bill weasley #harry potter #wizarding world

26 notes · View notes