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little-diable · 9 months

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Lies, nothing but lies - Dean Winchester (smut)

This is pure filth really, but at least there's a little bit of plot as well (not much tho lol). Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Dean and the reader have been friends since childhood, the reason why neither of them ever addressed their crush on the other. When a hunt gone wrong forces her confession out of the reader, Dean finds himself drawing back. But there was no escaping, all thanks to some strange, powdery substance.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected piv, sex pollen, choking, sloppy oral (m), slight breeding kink, friends to lovers, a small rejection though happy end, typical SPN setting

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2.7k words)

A gasp rippled through (y/n) as she opened her eyes, slowly adjusting to the darkness that surrounded her, wondering where she was. She tried to move around, though without any luck, bound to the chair as if she was a sacrifice that would find its end in Death’s cold arms any moment now.

“Fuck, Dean? Sammy?” She whispered the names of her hunting partners, hoping that they were close. But she was met with nothing but silence, a silence so thick, (y/n) feared she may never speak another word again. Her eyes fluttered close as she tried to remember what had happened, it took her a few seconds till the memories found their way back to her like the tide rolling back in.

She had stayed behind in the motel, needing to catch up on some sleep as the brothers went out to speak to a few neighhours, hoping that somebody had seen or heard something. It had taken them hours to figure out new details, convinced that this was the sloppy work of a werewolf, but yet (y/n) had been stupid, leaving the motel after a few minutes of trying to fall asleep though miserably failing. She should have waited for them, should have trusted the funny feeling in her gut, but it had been too late the second darkness had swallowed her whole, trapping her.

Once again (y/n) tried to shuffle around, trying to reach the pocketknife she always carried around with her. Heavy breaths left her, eyes squeezed shut to try and collect all her strength, freezing as she heard the sound of heavy steps echoing through the air. Fuck, she’d have to be quick, she’d have to collect all her strength, trying to fight her way out of this mess.

Her heart longed for Dean, knowing that he’d fight side by side with her, sticking to the woman that had been around for years. They were one, one team, one heart, one soul, though without ever addressing the palpable tension between them.

“(Y/n)? Sweetheart?” The sound of an all too familiar voice ripped her out of the wave of sadness threatening to pull her under. “Fuck, of course she’s not here. I’ll kill that motherfucker with my own two hands.”

“Dean! I’m here! Sammy!” Her vocal chords ached from the strength she used to call out to the two brothers, hoping that they’d hear her. (Y/n) kept calling, listening to the sound of their steps, seemingly moving closer with every passing second.

“(Y/n)?” Sam’s voice rang in her ears, forcing a relieved gasp out of her. A cry left her, luring the two closer till they finally reached her. Dean cupped her cheek as he crouched in front of her, holding her close, letting Sam cut her free. She tumbled into Dean’s arms, inhaling the comforting scent she’d always felt recognise no matter how long they’d be apart. “Shh, we’ve got you, my brave girl, you’re okay.”

……

“Don’t look away, I’m not done yet.” Dean’s soft words filled the small motel bathroom, hands cupping her cheeks as he cleaned her scratches. She had her legs wrapped around his middle, keeping him close, not yet ready to part from him.

Her heart raced at the mere thought of ever missing a moment like this with Dean. Her life had no meaning without Dean in it, needing him to guide her, the one her heart needed to survive.

“Dean?” A hum left him, allowing her to keep on talking. Dean was oblivious to the racing of her heart, not picking up on the sounds the strong muscle created as it skipped beats. Her nervousness flushed through her veins, body forcing her to keep on moving, searching his closeness like she should have done years ago already. “Thank you, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Her gaze flickered between his eyes and his plush lips, momentarily distracted by the freckles she kept counting like sand collected in a glass, trying to keep memories bottled in to never forget them. His breaths got quicker, accelerating with every passing moments.

“I can’t, sweetheart.” His words made her breath hitch in her chest, staring at him with wide eyes for a few seconds before she slowly nodded her head, murmuring a soft “Of course.” (Y/n) gave Dean a small push, needing to get some distance between him and herself before he could notice the tears welling up in her eyes.

His hand found her wrist, stopping (y/n) from stumbling out of the bathroom. The sight of Dean was slightly blurred by her tears, making her feel even more pathetic as his sad smile grew clearer. Dean studied her for a few seconds, slowly letting go of her. “I wish I could, but I can’t risk our friendship, not when it’s the only good thing I can have all too myself.”

“It’s alright, Dean. I uhm, I’ll try to get some sleep in.” He watched her leave the bathroom with trembling fingers, wrapping her arms around herself. She didn’t pick up on the tears welling up in his forest green eyes, didn’t hear the silent curses leaving him nor the sound of his hands angrily meeting the cold surface of the counter she had been sitting on.

(Y/n) didn’t pick up on anything, but the quiet sobs clawing through her, making her heart clench in her chest.

……

“Careful!” Dean’s arms found it’s way around her waist before (y/n) could stumble over the step, eyes meeting his to communicate a quiet “Thank you”. The tension between the two had something uncomfortable to it, not yet over the conversation they’ve shared in the small bathroom days ago. Dean couldn’t help but wonder if he should have given in, ending up in a situation by far more pleasing than whatever this was, while (y/n) still cursed her exhausted self for acting like she had never done before and probably never will again.

“I’ll check out the rooms upstairs.” She had moved up the stairs before Dean could say another thing, moving through the unfamiliar house. Another case was keeping them on their toes, wondering who they were dealing with, but the things they now stumbled upon in their very house screamed “witch”, making them more uncomfortable than they’d ever admit.

(Y/n) combed through the empty rooms, opening boxes, shelves, whatever she could find. Before she could leave the upstairs area, moving back down to the man she tried to avoid like the plague, her eyes caught on a golden, small box. She moved closer, not hearing the sound of Dean’s heavy boots meeting the wooden steps, luring him closer.

“What’s that?” His voice made her jump, box crashing to the ground before she could catch it. A powdery substance now littered the ground, forcing curses out of (y/n) as she crouched down to push the substance back into the box. Dean wordlessly started helping her, eyes not daring to meet her angry ones. “I didn’t find anything, maybe we should try and see if we can find something online about the weird drawings we saw.”

“Alright, let’s go.” (Y/n) followed Dean outside, ignoring the heat simmering inside of her, threatening to take over her system. No words were spoken between the two as Dean started driving back, wiping away the drops of sweat pooling on his forehead, making him wonder why he was suddenly feeling all this hot.

“Dean?” His name left her, a sound torn between a cry and a moan, leaving his eyes to snap towards her. She was struggling just as much as he was, forcing him to tighten his grip on the steering wheel. “Fuck, I’m so hot. Open the windows, please.”

“It’s fucking freezing outside, sweetheart.” Both pondered over his words a few seconds, clinging to the quietness filling the Impala. “It was that fucking powder, shit, Sammy told me about this a while ago.”

“What is it? Will it kill us?” Her voice trembled, hands snapping into action to undo the first buttons of the jacket she was wearing, close to ripping her shirt open. Dean’s hand found her thigh, fingers dipping into her skin, forcing her to stop moving.

“They’re called sex pollen, you have to fuck them out of your system, otherwise they’ll kill you.” A groan left Dean, mind creating vivid pictures of (y/n)'s naked frame pressed against his, how she’d mewl his name, begging him to fuck her harder. Dean had imagined this for countless times, fucking his hand to the thought of her naked frame, imagines he clung to, very well knowing that he’d never touch her, not daring to ruin his oldest and closest friendship. Lies, nothing but lies.

“What? You’re joking! That can’t be true, what should we do?” A whimper left (y/n) as Dean’s hand started moving up her thigh, slowly, since his mind was trying to fight his body’s urges. Baby came to a halt in front of the motel, forcing the two into the room they shared. Dean couldn’t help but thank whoever was listening that Sam hadn’t joined them on this hunt, staying in the bunker for the time being.

“I don’t know about you, sweetheart, but I’ve got something to take care of.” She looked at him with big eyes for a few seconds, well aware of the way his hardening cock pressed against the tight fabric of his trousers, forming an uncomfortable bulge. No words left her as (y/n) leaped at him, lips finding his as her mind was silenced by the pollen taking over the last bits of her system, guiding her every movement.

Dean welcomed the kiss with a moan clawing through him, hands finding their way to her jeans, undoing the button with quick movements, set on undressing her. Both parted from one another to rip their clothes off their bodies, only left in their underwear, a sight that left them both breathless, fingers aching to feel one another.

“I need your cock, anything, please Dean, it burns so much.” Her body was aching for his touch, wanting to feel him buried inside of her, desires fuelled by the pollen that worked like a drug on her system. Dean pushed her down on the bed, ripping her panties down her legs as she worked on her bra, a sight Dean didn’t allow himself to get lost in, needing to work quickly. His cock was twitching, leaking precum, laced with a desire so strong, he feared he’d pass out any moment now.

With his hand wrapped around his cock, Dean pushed the tip through her slit, coating himself with her arousal before he pushed into her. Both moaned in unison, eyes rolling back to give room to the darkness swapping through their systems. Dean fucked her without any mercy holding him back, hand finding its way to her throat, pinning her down as his other hand clung to the bedframe.

It felt as if both had been needing to feel this for months, perhaps even years, a longing that had been nothing more than a daydream they’d try to escape from, at least till this very moment. Their bodies fit together perfectly, moving in sync as they tried to stop the heat that kept on flushing through them.

Both were too far gone to speak, unable to produce anything but moans and groans, sinful words that rippled through them. Her orgasm moved closer quickly, flushing through her before she could stop her body from giving in, but Dean didn’t stop moving, not nearly as done as she was.

Her body kept calling out to his, the heat still thumped through her veins, almost as strong as it had been before her first orgasm of the night. Their eyes met, hers hazy and confused, Dean’s twinkling with joy, excitement, and the pride he wasn’t able to swallow down. Even though he couldn’t guide his body, having to trust his instincts, he couldn’t deny that he loved seeing her like this, moaning for him, fucked out within a few moments.

“I need to fill you up, want to fuck you full with my cum.” His words forced another moan out of her, body not satisfied just yet. Their hearts kept jumping, her arm found its way around his neck, pulling Dean in for another kiss. They were a mess of tangled limbs, tongues, and digits, a mess so perfect, they never wanted to free themselves from it.

Dean kept staring down on her as his hand disappeared between their bodies, rubbing her already overstimulated pulsing bundle of nerves with a smirk tugging on his lips. Her moans were everything but quiet, loud enough to ring in his ears like a cry of help in the quiet night would.

“Cum inside of me Dean, please, I want it, want it so badly.” Her words were slurred, giving Dean the last push he needed to tumble over the edge, cum painting her walls white as a heavy groan left him. Slow thrusts kept pushing his cock into her heat, cock still hard and twitching, needing to chase another high before they’d feel somewhat satisfied.

Without another warning Dean pulled out of her, flipping them around so that (y/n) had her face buried in the pillows, heavily groaning as he pushed back into her from behind. Their moans grew louder once again, dripping with pleasure and lust, an insatiable hunger they couldn’t still, all thanks to the pollen drugging their system.

“I should have fucked you sooner, fuck, I won’t ever let you go again, sweetheart, you belong to me, just like your body does.” Dean spoke his words with his jaw clenched and his teeth pressed together, still rushing along the waves of pleasure that made them tremble. (Y/n) could only groan, sobbing his name with squeezed together eyes, fingers digging into the fabric of the pillow.

Her walls kept fluttering around his cock, ready to give in again, shaking fingers finding their way to her aching clit. Within seconds she was pushed over the edge again, finally letting go of the heat that had forced her to keep on going, allowing her body to somewhat relax.

Dean stared down on her for a few seconds, hips still snapping against her behind before he pulled out of her, groaning a throaty “I need your mouth, sweetheart”. With tired though excited eyes staring up at Dean, (y/n) shuffled around, allowing him to abuse her mouth, forcing his cock deep down her throat.

She gagged for him, instantly making a mess with saliva dripping from her lips and chin. (Y/n) clung to him, corners of her mouth burning within moments, and yet she couldn’t help but moan for more, eyes rolling back into her head with every rough thrust. Her moans vibrated on his skin, forcing Dean to keep on going, adding to the speed of his thrusts to push himself over the edge again.

He came with a heavy groan, curses rolling off his tongue as he filled her cheeks. His hand found her hair, tilting her head back, watching tears run down her cheeks.

“Fuck, are you okay, sweetheart?” A tired hum left (y/n), finding comfort against his chest, pulled closer with his hands holding onto her waist. His hand ran up and down her spine, forcing goosebumps to rise on her skin, not wanting to break out of this state just yet. “Listen, sweetheart, about what I’ve said-"

“It’s okay, Dean, you don’t have to explain yourself.” She slowly pulled back, at least she tried to, though without any luck. Dean kept holding her close, lips finding hers before she could speak another word.

“I was stupid, just scared to ruin our friendship. But I can’t let you again, if you still want me.”

#Dean Winchester smut #Dean Winchester imagine #Dean Winchester x reader

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amica-aenigmata-naboo · 6 months

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Midnight Zone

Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 608 WC

Masterlist

Warnings: Astarion being doubtful, fluffffffff

“How deep do you think it goes?” Karlach asked, shaking the last of some spider webs off her boots.

“One way to find out.” You smiled. You rummaged through your bag finally finding your scroll of feather fall. Casting it quickly, an elated yip escaped you as you jumped into the crevice in the center of the Whispering Depths. You fell for ages, admiring the glowing crystals that passed you slowly. You giggled as the fall continued, feeling a moment of reprieve, of happiness as they were rare to come by lately. When your feet hit the ground, you stumbled a bit before regaining your footing. The others landed by you shortly after.

“I think we’ve all had enough for one day, let’s set up camp.” Shadowheart said, walking ahead with everyone else while you lingered back.

You didn’t notice Astarion had stayed behind with you until he gently soothed his hand over the small of your back. “Dreary, isn’t it?” He said looking around in disgust.

“What?” You said, finally ripping your eyes away from the beauty that surrounded you. “I think this has to be the most amazing place I’ve ever seen.” You said, looking in his eyes.

“You can’t possibly be serious.” he asked, his eyes searching your face trying to find why you’d say such a thing.

“Truth be told, I’ve always preferred the dark. And it isn’t exactly dark down here… look at all the life around us. Wonderful and weird, just how I like it.” you giggled at him. He looked shocked but couldn’t hear any deception from you.

“If I can’t find a way to stay in the sun after this tadpole situation… I’ll have to live down here… In the dark… Alone.” his voice trailed off, sadly.

You whipped your head to him, “Who said you’d be alone?”

“Darling, I cannot ask that of you…” he laced his fingers through yours.

“It’s a good thing I want to then, isn’t it?” you kissed his cheeks, “Astarion, my love, I can go to the surface if I ever miss the sun. What I cannot do, is live without you. I won’t. You are stuck with me.” you nudged his chin up, trying to lighten his mood.

“Are you sure? Life down here comes with… difficulties.” he nodded towards the different mushrooms around and the myconid colony off in the distance.

“Where have we gone that hasn’t had difficulties? Trouble follows you my love, you’ll need my protection.” Astarion laughed at your quip, he pushed you back softly, feigning offense.

“Lest I remind you of all the times I’ve saved your head from a spike?” he said with his typical snark.

“Lest I remind you?” you said back, holding his hand and pulling him towards camp. He rolled his eyes, trailing after you.

At the edge of camp he yanked you softly, pulling you back to his chest. You smiled at him, enjoying when his playful side came out. He stared at you, his forehead slowly leaning in to rest against yours. “How refreshing…” he whispered.

“What?” you said, furrowing your eyebrows.

“To know that I won't endure eternity alone… to know that I will be loved.” he kissed you, it was gentle but you could feel his emotions behind it. Relief. Excitement. Happiness.

You kissed him back, trying to get as close to him as possible. “Eternity saving you from spikes and daggers? Sounds like a lot of grunt work…” you joked.

He laughed before nipping your lip and pulling you into a much hungrier kiss, “I like to think I’m worth it.”

“Definitely.” you kissed him back with equal fervor.

------------------------

Naboo's Note:

Hey! Last drabble of the week, I'm going to try and write a longer work soon, I know these little bite sized fits aren't for everyone and some would prefer lengthy pieces. I'd love some requests to get the motivation mill going. I hope y'all enjoy; as always - thank you for the likes, comments, reblogs, and requests. Ilysm xoxoxoxo!!

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 3 months

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Yandere Coworker (part 2)

Tw: Afab and fem reader, Cyprus doesnt take no for an answer and keeps you in his apartment

masterlist, part 1, part 3

You woke up with the biggest hangover of your life. Your mouth was dry and your head was pounding against your skull, you could feel the alcohol from last night sloshing around your stomach.

You squeezed an eye shut while the other struggled to focus on your surroundings. This is not your bedroom.

Your blood runs cold upon realizing that you're not in your work clothes. But an oversized shirt that's exposing one side of your shoulder and reaching to your knees. Cyprus must have changed you last night, god knows what else he did to you while you're that vulnerable.

There is a ceiling fan above you that clearly hasn't been cleaned for a while. Old, ripped and yellowed posters of famous fighters were plastered on his off white walls, they're not even straightened. A pair of red boxing gloves were hung on the side of his wardrobe, whereas his suitcase is on a lone table by the corner.

You could hear something sizzling outside, it must be Cyprus cooking.

You got out of his bed and exited his room, gulping and bracing what's to come.

"Morning." He gruffed. You scanned the room and saw that it's a modest living room with a small kitchenette away from the main door. It's a bit bare, just a couch, a TV on a wooden stand, a dining table that fits four and a printer awkwardly pressed against a wall. It was resting on a stool.

There is a tattered punching bag in the corner, hanging from above. It has definitely seen better days.

You noted that he has two pedestal fans and another ceiling one, but no air conditioning.

You turned your attention to him, he was plating the food on some paper plates. Cyprus picked them up and turned around, tilting his head towards the table. You tried to ignore the fact that he's half-naked, only wearing a pair of shorts. You knew that the majority would salivate over his oddly unscarred, sculpted body and veiny arms. There was a healthy, bushy happy trail on his abdomen, looks like he had let them grow rampant.

You went ahead and sat down on one of the chairs. He placed a dish down in front of you before taking a seat himself.

It's toast, sausages and eggs, cooked the way you usually prefer.

"You told me last night, this is how you liked your eggs." He mumbled, digging into his own breakfast which consisted of the same items, just in more quantities fitting to his stature. "I hope I can trust the Drunk You."

You went straight to the point and asked what happened.

"We didn't fuck, if that's what you're asking." He nonchalantly told you as he stabbed his omelet with a plastic fork. "You puked all over yourself, so I had to change you before bringing you to bed."

You were astonished at the difference in his language at home, compared to the one at work.

You asked what the time is. You're going to be late for work and you cannot afford to lose this job.

He furrowed his eyebrows as he chewed. "Relax. I called in sick for you."

He did what now?

"I took an emergency leave off work today too. We're free until Monday." He continued, acting like this is a totally mundane topic to talk about.

You rubbed your face, dreading the day where you're going to have to face your coworkers.

"What's up with you?" He asked, staring at your flustered face. "And eat up, your plate is getting cold."

You asked him how he called in to tell your manager that you won't be coming in.

He shrugged. "Pick up the phone. Dial the number. Call. Hang up."

You said that wasn't what you meant, you asked what he told your boss.

"I said you were too sick to come in. What more do you want from me?"

You asked if you provided context behind his words. He couldn't just possibly do that on your behalf can he?

"I told Jane it was none of her business. All she needed to know was that you're not coming in and so am I."

Jane, the devil you and everyone else on your floor call a manager. He wouldn't have let that response slide if you were to do the same.

And she is a gossip super spreader. You're sure the entire building is already making their own speculations about the relationship between you and him.

You stood up and paced around, trying to expel the nervous energy you built up. Cyprus looked at you quizzingly as he munched on his toast.

You ask how he is so calm about all of this, does he not care about being the center of gossip when he gets back?

"Fuck them. I don't care what they think." He turned his focus back to his plate, stabbing more food and shovelling it into his mouth.

But you do. You didn't tell him that, though.

"Damn, sit down. You're always so jumpy. It's just me and none of Jane's crap you have to face at work." He complained. You still fidget with your hands and walk around in short circles.

"You know, I always wondered if you're as jittery when you're not in the office. I guess this confirms it, you are. How could you live like that, always feeling on edge twenty-four-seven?" He pushed his glasses back up, his grey eyes trailing your every move.

You told him that you have to go home. You have something to do, mumbling about chores and other weak excuses.

"That can wait. We should talk more." He brought his hand up to your arm, firmly grabbing them and trying to lead you back to your chair.

You said no, you have to go.

"You and I know it isn't urgent. Come on, sit down. I'll reheat your breakfast up for you." You managed to slip out of his loosened grip.

You asked where your phone, clothes and belonging are.

"They're in my apartment. Safe and intact. You'll get them, don't worry. Just, sit." His patience is thinning but you're too frazzled to notice.

You said you have to check your emails to see if Jane-

"Park it!" Cyprus barked as he rose up from his seat, pointing at the empty chair opposite of him, causing you to flinch at his raised voice. You hurriedly followed his command and sat down.

He sighed. "You really need to stop thinking about work."

You kept your lips sealed as you trembled. Fearing Cyprus. As promised, he took your plate to be reheated in the microwave. You wonder if it's safe to be microwaving a paper plate.

While that's happening, he pulled out two empty glasses from his cabinets and a jug of juice from his fridge. He sets them on the table and poured you and himself some.

"Christ, you're so shaky. Loosen up!" He snarked.

You said you have no idea how to approach this situation, it's completely new and you're being caught off guard. How are you going to relax when you don't know what to expect?

"Well, first off. I'm not going to hurt the girl I'm trying to get with." He walked to the microwave as it beeps. "That's you, by the way. If it wasn't already painfully obvious." He sarcastically remarked, pulling out your steaming plate.

"Here you go, princess." His tone was softened and endearing as he placed your plate in front of you once again, it's mildly soggy but still in one piece, holding your food. You reluctantly picked up your disposable plastic fork and ate, since your stomach was grumbling.

He returned to his seat and continued his breakfast too.

"Secondly," Cyprus gulped his food down. "I want you to tell me more about yourself, and I'll talk about my life."

You didn't respond to him, still warily watching him as you ate.

"I'll go first." He set his fork on his plate. "My name is Cyprus. Cyprus Andrea Rodriguez."

That explains the "R" in your Valentine's Day note. You found it amusing that his Initials spell out 'C.A.R'.

"I work in finance. You know that." You nodded.

"I smoke. I like my coffee black. I drive. I cook." He started rapid-firing facts about himself while counting his fingers. You already knew all these.

You asked him about the boxing gloves in his room. He smirked and leaned back against his chair, bringing his arms behind his head.

"Not so fast, your turn to tell me about yourself, pretty girl." You coughed in your hand to try and hide the fluttering of your chest upon hearing that nickname.

You also told him things that he already knew. You worked on the same floor as him, you do not smoke, you like your hot drinks a certain way and you like your eggs like how you're eating it right now.

He pursed his lips. "Pfft. Boring. I want to know what you do after work."

You said you would go home and scroll endlessly on social media. Or do more work.

"You're not fooling me, doll. I know a generic to-go reply when I hear one. I'm not your coworker here, you can tell me."

You thought about it. Yes, you would go to dinners and gatherings with your friends and other colleagues, but those aren't usually for fun. They're for keeping up appearances. Aside from that, you would just rot with your phone.

You told him that you would go out with friends.

"Who?" He brought his hands to his side and leaned towards you, now very interested in knowing your social circle.

You said he wouldn't know. It's no one from work. You quickly switched the conversation about his boxing gloves again. It seems like he wanted to say something else, but he ended up disclosing about his hobby.

"I box in my free time. It's a good way to release all that pent-up stress from dealing with Jane's shit on the daily." You eyed his deformed ears. Then you asked him if he does it for money too.

"Yes. It's one of my side hustles." He scraped the remainder of his eggs from his dish.

You asked what he was doing at the bar last night.

"Ah, ah. Your turn to answer my question, pretty girl. What were you doing at the bar last night?" He narrowed his eyes at you.

You said that you felt like drinking and going to the bar outside office hours. Was that so wrong?

He stared at you for a bit before replying, "You don't seem like the type."

You asked what he meant by that.

"You were never great at handling your own stress, doll. I know you don't like the smell of bars and the taste of booze. You were there as a 'last-resort' type of act, and I bet it's because of the guilt for standing me up."

While that is true, you don't necessarily appreciate Cyprus calling out as it is. You would very much prefer to remain in denial.

You said he has a good point. Then you proceed to ask him why was he there, in that one specific bar out of thousands in the city.

"I was there for a boxing match."

A match? Where?

"Somewhere." He was vague in his answer, you can only assume that it's nearby. "Next, what do you do on the weekends?"

You do not like these questions. They make you reflect upon your life.

You said spending time with friends, rot on the internet, or work. The last part made Cyprus grimace in disgust.

"The last thing on your mind during the weekends should be Jane's bitching. Work? Really?" You shrugged, saying that you're trying to save up enough for... you actually don't really know what you're saving for at this point. You're just doing what everyone is doing.

"You know you can't bring all that cash with you when you're dead, right?" He stood up, taking the empty disposables with him. Cyprus chucked it into the trashcan in his kitchenette.

You disregarded his last sentence and asked him about the paper plates and disposable utensils.

"They're cheap, and I don't have to do the dishes." what an interesting way of living.

You asked about his plans over the next three days. A flash of fear crossed your mind when you remembered you had to face your coworkers on Monday. They are going to ask all kinds of invasive questions and you're going to have to speak like a politician.

"What do you want to do?" He asked, leaning against his counter and staring down at you.

You said you wanted to pack up and go home.

He lets out a loud buzzing sound from his vocal cords. "Wrong answer, I'm not done with you yet."

You asked if you could at least have your clothes back.

"Later. They're in the wash."

You asked where is the wash.

"Downstairs."

You asked if you could go downstairs.

"Nope."

Why?

"It's lame down there, I'd have to say hi to my neighbors. And, I want to talk to you alone."

You asked if you can have your phone.

"Nope."

Why?

"It's charging."

Where?

"Not telling you." He pulled out a pack of smokes from his pocket and switched the stove on to light the cancer stick up.

You said you need your phone.

"To do what? More work? Dream on, I'm not helping you waste your life." He placed the cigarette into his mouth. Cyprus walked up to the window and blew puffs out of it. Occasionally he tapped his cigarette to knock the ashes off it.

You said you just need to check it. Someone might try to contact you in the event of an emergency!

"Trust me, it's nothing important. They're all from Jane." He took another drag of his cig.

You asked when will he be "done with you".

"When I feel like it."

You fell into silence, trying to think of something else to ask.

"I like you." He said, supporting himself over the windowsill with an arm. "You don't play that fake bullshit with me, you don't try to kiss my ass or fuck me over either. I like that a lot."

You watched him enjoy his smoke.

"You don't go around blabbering with a huge mouth. You're the only one in that damn building who minded your own business and respected me. I liked that."

You don't think you're any less nosy than your coworkers. But it was fascinating to see yourself through his eyes. Was that how you came off? You just didn't give a crap about Cyprus because he was antisocial and most likely wouldn't help you advance or destroy your career.

"And you're so fucking cute too. I had to snatch you up before anyone else did. But I couldn't lay it too thick, you and your reputation among the other mindless drones. I would have scared you off if I gave you roses in person, those pricks would have made a huge deal if I signed your letter with my full name." He stubbed his finished cigarette against the ashtray on the windowsill. Cyprus turned around and moved to the chair, he pulled it out and sat on it.

"I guess I came on too weak. It's fair. You wouldn't have known your gifts were from me. Did you like the chocolates? They were selling out fast, I knew I had to grab one for you."

You said it was nice, not knowing how to respond to his long rant.

You blurted out a question, asking him how he would define the relationship between you and him.

"You're my girl, duh."

You didn't know how to ask the next question without sounding rude or condescending, you wanted to ask what made him think you agreed to it. But no matter how you try to frame it, your question appears as a rejection. You didn't have to ask to have it answered, since he deduced from your uneasy expression.

"Fine. Deny all you want." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Let's see how long that lasts."

You decided to rip the bandaid out and told him you're not interested in a relationship. You tried to convince him that you were not worth the effort, but your words entered one ear and out of the other.

You were interrupted by a hearty laugh erupting from his throat. It soon died down, Cyprus leaned closer, and he lowered and deepened his voice to a husky growl.

"You should know, that once I set my sights on you, there is no stopping me." His piercing grey eyes struck terror in your heart. "I am a dogged man, princess. I do whatever it takes to get the girl I want and I don't share."

You're uncomfortable, this is a completely different Cyprus than what you're used to. You missed the quiet man who would keep his distance from everyone, not this menace.

You're going to have to figure out how to deal with your new unwanted lover by Monday.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere concept #yandere x you #tw yandere #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #oc cyprus #male yandere #yandere boyfriend #cw yandere #tw afab reader #male yandere oc #obsessive yandere #tw: yandere #yandere ocs #yandere x y/n

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buzzkillers · 5 months

Text

Burning like embers (falling tender)

Pairing: Regulus Black • Black!Reader

Summary: Regulus kidnaps the bride. (Wc:5k)

Warning: Dubcon, Kidnapping, Semi Unrequited Love, Attempted Non-Con, Pseudo-incest, Pureblood Politics, Regulus Embracing His Flaws (Yt and British)

Beta: @darksideofthecocoamoon !!! This would've been way worse without her.

Regulus Black was not a good man.

Good men existed in folk tales, in between the thick yellow pages of his childhood books. Where nobility and honor was permeated in ink and their righteousness was outlined in bold roman font, the letters too tiny for baby regulus to read. It was hard to be a good man, he learned. And by the age of twenty four, he was barely a man at all.

Rather melodramatic. His mother had said.

Mother also said he should feel lucky.

It was luck after all wasn't it? His mother said. A gift to have all of his boyhood crushed out and replaced with a substance that no good man ever possessed. Voldemort knew how to show his favor. He should've been grateful.

And Regulus was. Grateful that is. He was grateful in the way ravens were grateful for a murder, fire to wood and a cowardly man to…well to him. Regulus. Who had no problem bringing all of these things to fruition. Better than him than the others. His colleagues that liked to add to the fire and wood first, turn a flicker flame to a conflagration.

It was good that he had all of that goodness ripped out of him, the remnants stuck between Voldemort's teeth.

Because good men became drunks; drunk on alcohol, indulgent on cheap thrills and even cheaper whores. Complacent. Regulus thought.

Vermin. His father corrected. Dogs that pretended to be wolves before they latched back on their leashes and trotted home; clean shaven and pristine.

Regulus knew good men well afterall.

He's killed many.

A poison there. A dog bone here. Family cemeteries made entirely in his name.

So when he said he wasn't a good man, it wasn't an attempt to be humble or modest or bashful or coy or any other fanciful saying. Regulus Black was not a good person.

The mark proved it.

The murders cemented it.

And your body chained to his bed, screamed it.

Or maybe that was simply a gross overstatement?

The word 'chained' naturally made one think of those muggle devices. A crude contraption with metallic locks and easily hexed metals. (An insult to human ingenuity, really.) No, your chains were of the metaphysical kind: sophisticated, invisible, snug. It was the nicest thing he's ever done for an opposer to his Lord.

Unfortunately, you were not raised by Mother. So you didn’t understand to be grateful. Which was a shame. Even a bird admired their cages eventually. It was the least you could do.

But of course Regulus' life was unfairly hard and his options null. So instead of admiration and dutiful respect, you laid with your back turned and her body curled against the dark corner of your bed. Small and pitiful— a bit wet too.

Funny.

Maybe he should've called you a fish instead. You wouldn't laugh but it would be funny. After all the white gown that clung to your body was completely translucent, the edges covered in soap suds. (Nastily, Regulus Black curled his bruised lips; a caged bird indeed.)

He closed the door behind him.

His own clothes drenched and his fingers bloody with scratches before he dumped the wand in his hand to the ground. It clattered unceremoniously.

"My bird," he began, voice smooth, annoyed.

"I hope you're incredibly happy with yourself," he slipped his loafers off and untwisted his family rings.

"There's a dead wizard at our doorstep because of you," parts of him anyway.

The rest of him was about a few yards out. With chunks of flesh too burned and scarred to be identified as human spewed across the acres of land. (Dog meat, his father would say. Hopefully the animals thought the same.)

The whole ordeal was unnecessarily messy you see? Uncivilized even as he looked at the 'dog' blood splattered against his light robes. Angered, he unbuttoned that too.

"It was an avoidable death, don't you think?"

"A complete waste of my time, even?" He cocked his head, his voice heavy with something that made your back tense.

Yet of course, you refused to turn around, to look back…

A recent nasty habit of yours as he threw his robes on a nearby chair. The excess blood dripping from hand woven cloth onto the concrete floor. A familiar sight.

Slowly, his eyes dragged to the wand on the ground, so small and twiggy. It reminded him of the toy wands he saw poor half-bloods play with when no one was looking. A scrap of trash. No different than what you'd throw for a animal to catch.

Yet, it took death for the wizard to let it go. (A dog and its bone.)

He frowned, then snapped it beneath his heel.

Magic spurted out and when he looked up your head swirled back towards the wall. He frowned again.

"You could at least cry," he said, voice hoarse.

“He died for you after all,”

Besides your frame, a lamp flickered and its shadow danced across your back. He licked his lips, hmm. “They all died for you, actually,”

"Should I tell them to stop?" He murmured. But you only curled further into yourself. Like a victim, like someone that's done nothing wrong. He gritted his teeth. "No that won't work, you'll just keep sending them," Regulus kicked the wand across the room.

"Maybe if he had served his purpose…." The air crackled. “..But alas,” Then he crossed the small room and plopped himself on the bed. His head cushioned against the duvet.

"What did you tell them anyway?" he whispered, before something cracked and your cuffs pulsed. He smiled.

"Did you say you were captured? That I was holding you prisoner? Did you lie, birdy?" He whispered, before slowly you sat up and turned your head. Your pupils were fat, your breath still.

"Shut up,"

"B-" he started before all air left his lungs, your hands wrapped around his throat.

"Tu putain de salope—" your knees dug into his waist. “—just stop talking," Spit flew with each word and it took everything in him not to lick it away. He could only smile and make it worse.

Your eyes widened, a fury of emotion flickering in and out and Regulus only with luck missed the conjured dagger that dug into the place where his head once was.

"Baise gluante-" Then with a flick of his wrist the chains tightened, your positions switched and Regulus was on top once more. His bony fingers pressed into a neck that creaked beneath his weight.

“That was an admirable trick,”

“You almost got me there.” He spoke too soon.

The knife appeared again, this time pressed too close to his third rib. Huh. What was that muggle saying about kicked dogs again?

"Don’t make me repeat myself," You demanded again between clenched teeth and his skin that was beginning to unravel under the metal. Something in him warmed at that. He killed a man like this the day before. But that was more brutal, cruel even. This was not that. This violence was intimate, affectionate.

So much so that the moment you spat your words back at him, this time he did lick it off.

"Sweet," He murmured to himself, like burnt cranberries and raw strawberries, something natural that bursted on his tongue. He licked it again. “A little sour too,” Beneath him you laid frozen, your own eyes widened until your grip on the knife loosened. "Just like me,"

"You're sick," you said it like you were just noticing. "How could you just-"

Quickly, you took a deep breath.

In.

Out.

“I'm nothing like you,"

"Nothing?”

With a grunt you attempted to get up but he kept you down with nails that dug into your wrist. An devilish embrace. "You killed him and you didn't have to, you didn't even need to touch him, you could've let him go, kept him out of it," you insisted, each word said with hard eyes and fat tears on your cheeks. "We're nothing alike,"

Regulus shrugged his shoulders.

"Then leave,"

"…."

Outside your ‘dogs’ flesh had begun to be pecked off by the ravens and the bones by the flies. Inside, you licked your lips but you did not move an inch. “Here, I’ll even help you,” he confessed before with a whispered incantation, your chain vanished. “Go,”

A symphony of emotions flickered across your face. They all burned hot and they all made Regulus shift above your thigh. Before your knife clattered to smoke and your face twisted into something like hatred.

His little bird drew back into her cage.

"Yes," he sighed, his voice not at all shallow and not at all starved for air while he rubbed at the wound that would soon scar by morning,

"That's what I thought,"

—

When he first met you, his first thought was: 'This isn't going to work,' and his second thought was 'She's too good for Sirius,'

In hindsight, both statements were correct.

You were a bold thing really. A beauty covered in rare gems and an aura that spoke of higher breeding. Mother boasted about you highly. The jewel of the west she called you. Someone, born and bred within the confines of a highly respected Afro-Caribbean pure blood family. It was a surprise that Mother even knew you but he guessed that was the point. She wanted someone not as connected in British society after all. Someone who only visited when they had to.

In other words, the likelihood of Sirius already having fucked you was low and the likelihood that you knew him was even lower.

For his mother, ignorance truly was bliss.

If not for Sirius than also for the fact that no non-British family paid attention to Voldemort.

Voldemort's tyranny was simply an English problem. The bloke didn’t seem to care about the muggles from other countries, much less ones from the Caribbeans. Still, people have heard whispers of him. Only a dip in the pond about a crazed muggleborn that had a bone to pick with British society.

Nothing special because in hindsight, who didn't?

So, it was unsurprising that your parents agreed to a marriage of convenience with the one family that was in His pockets. What was surprising was how well you took to it.

According to Sirius, arranged marriages were archaic and boorish. Not because of any logical reasons like loss of autonomy but because ‘Only a pauper let's their parents pick where his cock goes'. Of course he paid Sirius no mind.

Yet, solemnly he wondered if you felt the same. As a boy he would've scoffed at the idea of someone not wanting to marry into the powerful House Of Black but he hasn't been a boy for a long time now. The scales had long fallen from his eyes. In the privacy of his mind, he could not say that it was truly an honor to marry into the Black Family.

Not with the Potters and Misli’s right there. Not with witches like Bellatrix in the family. On the contrary, it's most likely that you were in for a shock. And you'd probably run for the hills while Sirius laughed into his fifth bottle of ale and mother seethed in the shadows.

It was the logical conclusion, he knew it and father knew it. But sometimes wolves liked to just watch their prey die. And who were they to go against Mothers will? Father the patriarch and him the–good son. The dog. So he even prepared for it. What a waste of time that was.

He told Kreacher to prepare for a crying wailing woman. He didn’t prepare for the force that walked through the door instead. It was raining when you visited but you didn't seem to notice. Instead your face was held high as you met mother, your grip firm when you met father and you smiled at him. Very toothy and almost childish but it fit you well.

Father and Mother were nervous that Sirius wouldn't take to you. That they'd have to find another poor woman for their plans but Regulus remembered the sparkle behind his brother's eyes, the twitch of his fingers when you matched fire with oil. You gave him boorish jokes with a classy smile and a mouth no different than a muggle sailor. You were everything dirty about Sirius, wrapped and repackaged into someone pretty, someone that could take it, take him.

Regulus wasn't impressed of course. It took anyone with a halved brain cell to get along with Sirius. You were really no different than James in his mind. Someone that could code switch between two worlds without making either party uncomfortable. A chameleon with nothing inside. It was good that you only had one job really. One simple, impossible to fail job: 'Bring my son back to me,' He heard mother whisper, both of your bodies hidden in the shadows of the back rooms. ‘Bring Sirius back into the fold’

‘Bring him back with a mark,’ She really meant to say and then the conversation was over.

And of course you failed.

____

"Do not touch me with blood still on your hands," you barked as Regulus dipped your head into the water. The soap suds in your head mingling with the crusted blood on his fingers until the water became a dull, faint pink.

He hummed. "You demand a lot of me," but his hands do hover away from your hair and to the lip of the porcelain tub. You'd smell so much better without the after-smell of spilt blood anyway.

Without thinking he rinsed his hands in the water bowl by his side. His pink reflection looking at him before he went back to your puffed- no braided hair. It wasn't like that before. Did you do that while he was upstairs? With your bare hands at that? No, you must've used a spell. Strangled together the few bouts of magic his bindings granted you and did what he offered to do freely. Impressive.

He should take it all apart. 'Just to spite you,' he thought before with a hum he squeezed more shampoo in your hair. Suds dropped to the wooden floor, and seeped between the cracks. The scent of juniper berry erupted in the air. Your hands gripped the lip of the tub tighter.

“Sirius used to wash my hair like this.” you murmured, your teeth dug deep into your lip. “Eventually, he’d join me and we’d stay in the tub for hours,”

He paused, his fingertips wrinkled in your hair before you took a long and hard inhale. In. Out.

“Is that so?” he murmured, something tough in his throat. It was only because of the hand of Merlin that he was able to sound nonchalant.

From his position, he could not see your features. But he could look at the mirror that faced the both of you. It stood at the opposite side of the room; decorated in golds and engraved with faces that he had no interest in knowing. Your own face was the only one that captured his attention. And at this moment, it was closed off. Your lips twisted sardonically and your eyes cut to the side.

“Yes, there was more that was happening of course, but—that would be inappropriate to tell, " you snickered as if you were the leader on all things dealing with propriety. He took a moment and breathed in.

“Was this before or after you betrayed him,” Regulus asked. You went silent.

Coward.

“Or do you even remember,”

“-shut up,”

“Is that a no then?”

"Are you deaf?" you cut your eyes towards the mirror. "I told you to shut up,"

His own lips curled, "You are still wet," The suds in your hair have now dried. Leaving behind dollops of water that now pooled at his feet. The excess had begun to drip to the floor, the rest down your neck, to your back.

"Did that also remind you of your time with Sirius?" Then you shot up, the water falling from your shoulders.

"Do you constantly think about what gets your brother hard?" What a dirty mouth.

His lips twisted. "You should get back in,"

"No,"

"You'll get a cold,"

You rolled your eyes. "Then you shall tell my family I died of hyperthermia, they'll believe that,"

His eyes fell flat but Regulus didn't say a word. Just kept his touch gentle, his movements soft. As if you were a lover, a friend and not—

The knife only nicked his shoulder this time.

"I said-" you shuddered violently,. "-To stop it,"

In the mirror, Regulus watched as you shot him a look. Weeks ago there was a fiery rage in there, dragon eyes in human form. Now it was just tired, bored even. Then you looked back down, silent.

He narrowed his eyes. "Ask me,"

Your grimace only deepened, but now there was humor laced in the edges. "Ask?" your lips twisted into a nasty tired smile;

"Demander?" You giggled. "Did you forget what's in our blood?" You questioned with all that humor quickly gone and replaced with a tone ancient and old.

"We do not ask," you sneered, then rolled your shoulders.

"Even Sirius knew that,"

_____

You didn't even know Sirius.

That was the worst part. You giggled in hidden corners and you kissed his hand to make the elders gasp in horror and Sirius like a fool ate it up and you didn't even know him.

Sometimes,the depths of his brother's stupidity astounded him. Did he really think that a woman like you would just fall in his lap? You were already out of his league. A barmaid would be a better fit.

It was foolish, idiotic, ridiculous but it worked. Because without knowing Sirius was getting closer to taking the mark. He no longer grimaced when Regulus arrived home smelling of iron. Or when he got caught with scratches on his arm and blood on his collar. Mother's plan was working and he only felt pity.

It was one thing to pretend, it was another to have to dumb yourself down for a bonafide pauper. If Mother had picked him, there would be no farce. Not like he wanted that. He didn't want anything.

He was fine with watching from the shadows. His entire presence ignored while you and Sirius pretended you were the only ones in England. It was simply the way things were, he realized with clenched knuckles and a tight smile.

But did it have to be?

No, it didn't.

—-

Six months later, Regulus understands why Sirius gets so addicted. A drunk like him, so prone to tasting what was bitter, his tongue rotten with ale. You were an overturn. Something annoyingly new. Regulus had never tasted something so sweet. Poppy pomegranate and sunburst cherries. He swore that he’d get a cavity as he dug his fingers into your hair.

Twisting you into position, tight, proper, the way you gripped the stem of any fruit. Of anything that you wanted to get a better taste of. You were too stunned to fight back then. The bitter after taste of champagne you were prone to drinking sticky on your tongue. Your glass already shattered on the floor.

In the next room, your husband argued with portraits. And when it's done, and when you slap him. Regulus received a thought. An awful hypothesis.

What else could he get away with when enclosed by walls? The rest of the world locked away?

An awful thought indeed.

—--

It's only a week later that it happened. Sirius waking up to an empty bed and Regulus miles away on a mission, in the middle of nowhere, in a quaint little cottage.

It was almost too easy.

—

You didn’t leave of course. Not at first.

Because leaving met acknowledging that you were wrong. That there was nothing to gain at keeping his attention. Leaving meant having to look Sirius in the eye and tell him you lied.

Of course you had questions. Regulus of course didn’t answer.

You didn't need to know how distraught Sirius had become. A pathetic puppy that moped around the manor destroying everything in sight. Regulus didn’t even need to plant ideas in the brutes head. No, all the seeds were already there. Sown in from years of idiocy and your failed meddling.

'It was Dumbledore, I just know.’

‘That stupid old git is trying to punish me,' he whined to Regulus. 'He took her, I know he did Reggie, you need to help me'

'Prongs and-" he'd gnaw at his cracked lips. 'they don't believe me, they think I'm mad, they think I'm—Regulus'

Sirius was mad for you. Unnaturally obsessed. A fool with his alcohol taken away. A dog that's lost his chew toy. He didn't know any better. He couldn't have. But Regulus did, Regulus knew you. He understood your games and twist. Poor Sirius.

If Regulus had to be the bad guy then so be it. He could be the executioner and the judge, he just needed to play his cards right.

Murder would create a martyr but someone missing? Someone that Sirius could say left him high and dry. It was what you were planning to do anyway. And if Regulus quickened the process that didn't make him anymore of a bad person than the murder and countrywide slaughter ever did.

—

You were surprisingly clumsy by your lonesome.

Random scars and cuts littered your body when he wasn’t looking. Ghost of attempts at escape most likely. Which was fine. Regulus could play doctor. Even if it included a bath. A mutual need, probably. The blood on his hands had begun to make his nose burn.

He watched you flinch, took relevance in the way your eyes settled: tired, bitter. It was the same look worn by others. It reminded him of himself, of mother. Abrasive. Challenging him.

After all these weeks, you seemed to still be under the impression that Regulus was anything like Sirius. That they shared the same rotten brain cell that Sirius had split amongst his new brothers, his new family.

He unclenched his fist. Let his anger burn and flick in the atmosphere before with a turn of his head he looked at the hair moisturizer on the counter top.

"Your hairs going to be tangled tomorrow. You should let me rebraid it," You scuffed at that.

"Touch me and you die." You said the same thing to Sirius once. He heard it through the walls during your consummation night. Between the sounds of ruffled sheets and curses. And surprisingly, Sirius listened.

Regulus didn't have the same control. He grabbed for a braid, a knife appeared once again at his rib. He sighed. “You’re being stubborn,”

“I will rebraid my own hair,”

“..With what autonomy?”

You rolled your eyes. "Want to find out?”

He snorted, hands gripping your strands. "Sometimes, it astounds me how well you lie."

"Don't you realize that I already know you're guilty?"

You sighed. Tired, as if this was a conversation you two have had a million times before. It was.

You looked away. "I'm not," he yanked your head. "But you are." Then when with a snap of his wand you were dried and dressed. Your body plopped on your bed without care. He rolled his eyes.

"You fed my brother lies and lured him away f when your job was so simple. to bring him back," Get him to take the mark, be the whisper in his ears, that was what Mother told you. All that deceit just so that the family could have a proper Heir. A better head outside of him the runt and Bellatrix the mad woman.

Regulus pinched the bridge of his nose. “You lured him away and then-” he gripped his fist into the sheets. “-and then you attempted to run with another,”

“You were going to betray him,” it was funny really. Outside of the curses and the hexes and threats that was the one that got you to pay attention. That indifference melting away with ease.

"You are a liar and you should be happy that I even-":

"Look at me?" You rolled your head to the side. "Cause you look at me alot Black, even when you think I'm not looking back," you said this with shadowed eyes and a laziness to your movements. Like you had all the time in the world to revel in the fact that Regulus watched you back. That he wasn’t as suave as he thought you were.

Regulus flickered his eyes down to the crotch of your dress. Theres a wet spot there that never fully dried. Regulus shot to his feet.

"You're angry,"

"Regulus,"

"I get it, truly" he found himself at the edge of your bed. A wand less spell on his lips that warmed the fabric.

"I've been nothing but terrible to you, completely awful. That's no way to treat a sister-in-law, now is it?" he sat at your side, his hands on your thigh. Fabric brushed against your bare skin. Under his words, you shook. "But if you bring up his name again, I'll-"

"What?" You sneered, that hatred bleeding back in. "Let me go?"

"Tell Sirius what I did?" With a blink your eyes began to sheen. "I do not care,"

Then your face twisted. "Not anymore"

He gripped your face, his own features suddenly inhumane. "Your boy toy has made you cocky,"

"Do you think I won't do it? Are you prepared to make that gamble?" There was a frenzied tone to his voice as he said this. For a moment he wondered if it was the weather. An effect of being so sick of your behavior. He must've been worse than he thought but you were looking at him with defiance. He wanted to find control but there was a smolder to your eyes, a spark and suddenly Regulus lost all control. You were serious.

And then you screamed as he gripped your shoulders and shoved you into the mattress. It bounced beneath the weight. "No," he whispered.

Your slip entangled in his fingers. You were slipping between his fingers. The harsh tear of fabric brought him back to the present as the top of your slip laid torn in his hand.

You laughed. It too sounded frayed while your fingers trembled. "No?"

But outside of that you said nothing, just stared at him the way you stared at potion books and Sirius odd muggle gimmicks. Something dangerous, that you were simply waiting to explode and somehow that was worse than screaming. Worse than you cursing at him while his fingers dug into your ripped dress.

"You do not know him,"

But youre stupid so you only grunted back, "Don't I?,"

He laughed "My own brother? You really think you know him better than I?"

"No—"

"No?"

"I don't know what Sirius was like as a child but I do know that the boy you call your brother is dead"

You gripped his arms now, like an anchor. "I know that he only exist in your memories, and I mourn your loss"

"But the man is different and I know him and I know that he would never give into Voldemort—not even for you,"

Don't say his name, rested heavy on his tongue. But he crushed it. In that moment something in him died and something else was born. A substance unknown to good men or even Voldemort.

So, he smiled. Soft hands coming up to pick at the soft white gown. The fabric was practically translucent up close.

"Those are harsh accusations," he plopped on the bed and felt himself jump a bit before his hands relaxed against your knee and then your thigh and then- paused with a look.

Your body trembled beneath his fingers.

"Fratricide, sororicide? You really can't think of anything worse?" He whispered, his words painting a portrait that only you could see.

Still, he watched your eyes widen and felt your breath stutter. A fine drip of water that didn't come from your hair, slid down your forehead. Before a hummingbirds heart fluttered beneath your skin. And all he could do was stare, his hand pressed firmly against your cunts entrance.

"I can.." he said, still covered in blood, still burning with the mark, before his fingers slipped between your thighs. Plushy and warm then suddenly damp, drenching his fingers.

"..I can think of something worse for Sirius to find."

"He'd only have to look at my hands"

You jumped back and thrashed but it was worthless, his fingers were already against your cunt.

The sounds only got louder, your thrashing more manic but the spell he put on your hands and feet kept you plastered to the bed. He grounded into you further, chest against chest before his head nuzzled against your own.

'Frankincense and juniper berry' he thought with a whiff. Like the familiar books he read as a child and the aroma of the Black home after night had fallen. Divine and familiar.

His own little goddess.

The revelation forced him to kiss your cheek. His own lips pressed firmly against your skin. He could taste the shea butter. Could still smell the fruity body wash as your screams turned into whimpers and then morphed into ugly moans. The sounds of pleasure ripped out of you through clenched teeth and bitten lips.

He brought his free hand up, clenched your neck. Felt the arteries jump and your jugular twitch. He killed a man like this earlier today. A long and dirty muggle way of murder.

Still, he took interest in the way the man's eyes slowly turned glossy and the way his hands clenched helplessly at Regulus' clothed arms. As if this would rip him away from Regulus. Force him to not carry out his duty. Beneath him, you did the same. Your soft hands grasping helplessly at his clothes. Pulling him in, pushing him back. Delirious.

"Tu vas le regretter, Black,"

"You gain nothing-"

"C'mon you can beg longer than that, give me a tale for Sirius.” He sneered. “Let me tell him that you put up a fight," he bent down.

"Let me tell him that his wife fought hard for me not to fuck her," you spat on him, he kissed you.

Then you knee him in the face. He jerked back, blood spurted in his hand. He smeared it against your knee.

"You palefaced-" you punched him this time, his teeth rattled. the bed met his back. The force ricocheting till the bed frame cracked and your chains went loose and Regulus was back on you like a feral dog.

You would not leave this place.

But youre quick, a snap of wind that pushes him to his back, elbow in his throat. Above, him you look like a God. Vengeful. And ready to destroy the only person who exists just for you. “You can't stop me, “

And Regulus is weak. A small pathetic thing just like Bellatrix said he was because his eyes burn. The edges wet with admonishment. The edges of his lips quiver. And suddenly all that anger bleeds away. He gripped your wrist. Sharps nail dug into your skin with something worse.

“He doesn't deserve you,” He pierced, throat burning. Above him, your eyes melted. The look indescribable.

“I know.”

“You will get bored of him, and I'll still be here waiting, watching,” he pulled you closer, nose to nose. You filled his vision. “Do you like making me your dog?”

You opened your mouth but no–

He persisted, tears fat. “Can't I just have you,”

“Can't you just want me? Is that too much to ask? Is it too much to want?” Regulus wanted so much already. He rarely ever had it in his grasp. The back of his mind filled with ideologies of freedom, and family and lonely nights in nowhere cities where no one would know his name. All of that was too far away though, intangible. But this–

He crawled into your space, gripped your skin.

–This was so close.

He shuddered. Lips red and his face damp with anticipation. Below him, you looked ethereal. The edges of your eyes burning soft.

“Is this really all you want from me? Sex? After everything?”

No. What Regulus wanted was much darker than that. More debased and immoral and such an awful sticky thing that he could not even admit it to himself. But for now, if that's what you needed to believe. If only a physical communion was what you thought he wanted of you. Then so be it.

He opened his mouth, ready to lie.

Yes.

It's right on his tongue.

Yes. He was not greedy. Yes. He did not want anything more.

Yes. The oath of one easily satisfied.

But nothing came out. His voice stolen as you looked up at him. Eyes wide. All seeing. Knowing of everything.

Regulus shook his head.

“No.” the word bled out in spurts.

Weak. Bellatrix whispered in his ear. So fucking weak. Maybe he was no better than Sirius.

Because you were only going to deny him. You were going to say no. Laughing at his face because that's what people did in the face of fools. Regulus grip loosened. Beneath him you sighed.

“Merde.”

“You're a piece of work, do you understand–” your lips twisted, eyes narrowed. “This is not my home and yet you keep me here, this is not my country and yet you keep me here, don't you think I've given up enough to simply be in your presence? Can't this be enough?”

You say that but Regulus sees the molten desire in your eyes. The way you flickered across his face, unable to stay in one spot but lingering all the same as you crowded in him too.

Suddenly the air was dry. Regulus forgetting how to breath as you leaned back. Exposing your neck, dematerializing the knife.

He gets closer. “Speak plainly.”

You looked away. Outside the dog was barely bones. Rotten in the earth. You seemed to contemplate something, eyes distant before you're brought back to reality.

“...I'll allow it.”

Oh.

‘We’ can have this. Not just him, not just you. This had to be a gift. Before your grip turned tight, your face feral. A certain kind of wildness found only in martyrs and heroes and righteous fools littered your eyes before you smiled, teeth bloody. “Ask any more of me and i'll leave you here,”

“Alone, and then you’ll have to kill me to get me to stay.”

"I will haunt you till you are dust and bones and-" he kissed you, his own blood smeared with yours before he pressed his forehead against your own. "Yes," he whispered, and it couldn't help but notice that it sounded like a prayer. Like holiness,a type of reverence found only at the foot of gods and priest.

He said it again. You froze.

"Just don't go where I can't find you."

He smiled.

Then he kissed you again, on your nose this time, then your eyelids. Then sweetly, softly the space between your lips and your nose. He sighed and then he took you.

He puts his mouth on you. Slipped his head beneath your layers of clothing.

Unbuckled and unzipped and pulled apart each single one before your bareness glistened in his face. Until he could see the disbelief at his urgency flood your features. The confusion at his delicacy. Regulus understood.

There was something horrific but about taking someone's defenses apart with a sensitivity. With the precision of a monster that did not have to rip you to shreds to make you feel fear. And when he got to your core Regulus wasted no time.

....You tasted like pussy.

Musky and sweet, and in your skin he smelt the juniper berry and in your lower hairs drenched with the smell of arousal.

Above him you flinched and you shivered. It reminded him of a siren.

The unseelie ones that would flinch and cry as he electrocuted their water. Taking their oxygen away, fucking up the chemical imbalance, till their nails cracked the glass,

All while his fingers brushed against your own. Your ring finger still entrapped by a silver snake ring. Regulus was not a good man. He was flawed with impatience, entitlement, narcissism, the list went on. But it was his entitlement that got you in his bunker. It was his impatience that made him act, his familial nature that got you here on your back. Body drained and his head placed timidly on your belly.

He listened to your heart beat through skin and bones. Through vertebrae and arteries. Because everything was louder there, your blood even sang for him. A frenzied beat that made your skin hot to the touch.

He collapsed further into you. Nuzzling his nose into the crux of your neck.

An unleashed dog indeed.

#regulus black x reader #regulus x reader #harry potter x black reader #regulus black x y/n smut #marauders era smut #regulus black smut #regulus black fic #regulus black x y/n #regulus black x you #regulus black x black reader #regulus black #tw: dark content #marauders x reader #marauders x y/n #tw: dubcon #tw: noncon #killer writings <3

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purplerain85 · 7 months

Text

Betrayal

Pairing: Happy x Reader

Summary: You catch Happy cheating with someone you never expected and Happy clearly needs a reminder why he’s not to mess with you let alone your heart (you are as crazy as Happy if not a little bit more nuts) that person pays the price for your anger and pain and Betrayal.

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Smut (mentions of Blowjobs, protected and unprotected sex, Oral female receiving, fingering) and a small murder 🙈 at the end.

Tag 🏷️ @withmyteeth @darklydeliciousdesires @jvalentinesworld-cokes-hyna @yourwonkywriter @drabbles-mc @darqchilddaydreamz @reyeswritesmc @samcro-saint99 @happysoldlady @chibsytelford @twistnet @nessamc @indefiniteimagines @raewritesfiction

When you arrived at the clubhouse after working a 12 hour shift, walking up to the doors you can hear two people fucking somewhere in the dark corner, you giggle to yourself and then stop dead in your tracks when you hear his name being moaned…. You brain doesn’t comprehend what you heard at first because you know that voice but there is no way she would do that to you she knows better. But your feet are already walking toward the noise. Hoping and praying that you are wrong.

Unfortunately you are not it’s your “best friend” Brenda (who is smaller than you, blonde hair fake boobs, and prettier than you, in your opinion) and your Husband he has her bent over one of the picnic tables with he has a hand between her shoulders and one on her hip. You know it’s an emotionless fuck at least to him but to her it’s probably not. He has never cheated on you as you never counted the crow eaters from the other charters who just gave him a blowjob and moved on he never did anything like that at home.

Because he knows better he knows how insane you are, besides Gemma you are the only other woman that scares the pants off of him. When you two started dating a certain crow eater refused to get the message, she showed up at the clubhouse trying to get with Happy and you caught wind of her and she disappeared and no one knew what happened even though you were investigated there were no charges because there was no link between you and her as you said you never seen her and no one ever saw you two in the same place and there was no body like the last missing person you were investigated for when you first came in contact with Happy.

Brenda looked up and made contact with you and she gasped and said “Y/N fuck…. I” that was enough to get Happy to look up at you and he went white and pulled out of her ripped the condom off and threw it at Brenda (you were at least happy he used a condom) you just glared at them then turned and walked away back to your car you barely made it out of the parking lot when you heard his bike come to life. You knew he would be home the same time and you were ready to all but kill him or her at this point it didn’t matter this was the worst kind of betrayal you have ever had.

You both arrive home at the same time but you were faster than him as you were able to slam the front door literally in his face which you know is something that set him off. Happy walks in slamming the door so hard the house shook and the smirk on your face told you it was show time. “What the fuck Y/N!” He shouts turn on your heels so fast that he stops in his tracks yelling “no you don’t get to what Fuck the you jerkwad! You! not only did you cheat! you cheated with my best friend the one you think is an air head and keep saying is fake, the one I killed for!” Happy just stand there letting you vent cause he knows you are right and his anger over a door is nothing compared to the anger he can literally feel radiating off of you. “Did you get on your knees for her? Did you eat her out? Because we both know you have eaten me out in forever and she all but fucking demands it with who she is fucking so have you been fucking her all this time?” Happy goes to respond and you cut him off “You know what ? I don’t give a fuck, get the fuck out of my face” you take your wedding ring off and throw it at him and walk to your room and slam the door shut.

Happy stands there in shock as he picks up your ring and starts pacing the living room, trying to figure out why he fucked Brenda he can’t even stand her and her fake ass. At first he tried to blame it on your working so much but he cannot blame you, even after working 12,13,14 hours you still came home and even though you were dead on your feet you still took care of him and he realized that he neglected you and fell into a routine of not taking care of you, and just out for himself. He was literally just looking for a fuck when Brenda hit on him and Jax told him to think about what he was doing. He stopped mid pace and sneered at his clothes all he could smell was her, he ripped his clothes off and walks out back in his boxers and out his clothes in the fire pit and set the clothes on fire. Then went back into the house and had a hot shower so he could wash away everything from his Fuck up away.

Happy walks into the bedroom and sees you laying there in your fuzzy pjs and you watch him (well still glaring daggers at him) while he walks in naked and he slightly touch’s your toes as he walks by and you jerk away and say “don’t fucking touch me” he rolls his eyes and grabs his ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed (you fight him a little bit but not much that he thinks you don’t want it) and yanks your shorts off and pushes your legs apart and his face is instantly attached to your core and he runs his tongue back and forth from your opening to your clit and eats you like a starved man, moaning so loud at your taste that you can barely keep it together you put your hand on his head to keep yourself grounded, he removes them and places his and your hands on your stomach to hold you still. He pulls to strong orgasms out of you before he is starts to use his fingers while keeping his mouth and tongue working your clit, he finds your g-spot in a matter of seconds and then he pulls your hood back exposing you clit fully to his tongue you are moaning about too much but he keeps going, you have no idea what to do with your hands, they go from his head to his arm trying to pull it lose so his will let go of your hood, to your hair pulling it to the sheets.

When he finally gets your to cum again his fingers are coated with your cream and he sucks his fingers clean while moving up your body you barely register what he is doing tell you feel him pushing into you and you say “I can’t cum again…” he hushes you with a kiss and says “yes you can, I have a lot to make up for” he starts moving slowly passionately while kissing you, sucking and nibbling at your neck, sucking and biting your breast to leave marks and sucking on your nipples. He moves back up to your mouth and says “I am so sorry, there is nothing I can do or say that will make what I did ok, I don’t even know why I did it.” You pull him into a kiss and then slap his ass and tell him to “fuck my like you mean it”. Some how he manages to pull four more orgasms out of him by the second one your are begging him to cum.

You wake up before Happy does and you see about 100 messages from Brenda and what set you off is the fact that she couldn’t even admit that she was wrong she was putting it all on Happy and basically said that he took advantage of her. You messaged her back saying you wanted to meet before she went to work at 8am. And the dumb bitch replied back with “okay 😊”

Happy woke up to Chibs and Jax barging into his house asking “where is Y/N at? Brenda never showed up to work and her mom and boss called the Sheriff” he looked over at the clock and realized it was 4:30 pm he said “I didn’t even realize she left, she was suppose to be off today so she could be anywhere”

Chibs said “well you fucked her best friend and now both girls are missing and both their phones are off but Y/N phone last pinged her and Brenda’s phone pinged North West of here there’s nothing out there” Happy for a look on his face and quickly grabbed his stuff and said he had to go and would call if he needed back up. He got in his van and called Tig “did Y/N ask for that fucking key again?”

Happy and Jax arrived at the factory 3 hours later he saw Y/N car and the side door of the abandoned Factory open and walks toward the door he gets close to the door and all he can smell is acid.

The factory use to make and sell acid but closed down for some reason or another Happy never knew why, he explains to Jax that he knows of this place because this is where he first met you, when he was hired to get rid of someone’s abusive husband but you had found him first as he later found out you had inside information on where he would be because it’s was Brenda’s husband he had been hired to kill and he never trusted Brenda from the get go.

He and Jax walk in and they can hear Brenda crying and begging and calling for help. Jax says “I know a lot of the other guys are scared of her but I had no idea why and I know she is loyal to a fault and is protective of what is her’s but I never imagined she was a killer! How many people has she killed?” Happy looks at him and shrugs “15 that I am aware of and that is including the two she was questioned on since we have been together, I kept her quite tame after we got together, but I think my Fuck up from last night might derail her.” Jax looks at him with wide eyes and says “15? 15! Wait so she did kill that crow eater? Here?” Happy nods to both questions “the acid is so strong nothing is left behind. And since she leaves her phone at home for all her killings and when she goes to work and has an old ass car with no gps and has access to acid vats she know she won’t get caught unless someone snitches on her and she knows that will never be me or Tig will and the weak link is up there begging for her life so don’t piss her off. She scares the piss out of me but I love her more than anything.”

Happy calls out “babe! We are walking up the stairs!” You reply with “who’s we?” Happy says “just Jax and I” as the step up onto the platform which was about 9.5 feet above the massive vat of acid, he assets the scene Brenda’s face is bloody and swollen and is tied to a wooden chair (probably not a good thing) and restrained with strips of cotton (nope definitely not good little Miss Brenda is not coming out of this alive) you look and Happy and say “oh great another person who I have to watch so they won’t tell on me.” Jax raises hands and says “darlin’ I am not telling anyone anything because unlike the rest of my crew who may be scared of my mother and you. I am scared of Happy and I like living! So what is your plan just going to toss her in?”

You smile at Jax and look at Brenda and say “You know after all I did for this bitch she was planning of snitching on me and all of you because she got caught hiring someone to kill her sister but then the guy chickened out and reported her but there was no proof so she decided to seduce you in hopes that I would kill you and then she would kill her sister and she thought she could work it so I would be caught and blamed for everything.” Brenda is crying “no, no, no, I promise I wasn’t going to tell on you, Ha-happy raped me I swear I would never betray you like that.” You look her in the eyes and say “I know Happy and he doesn’t rape woman let alone like to hurt them and as far as I know he has only killed one woman.” Brenda starts going on again about how Happy is this and that that you just roll your eyes and are about to walk over to her but Happy grabs the chair and flings her and the chair off the platform and you hear Breanda screaming tell you hear a splash. You stand there shocked looking at Happy with a fire he knows all to well and he says “now that, that is done can we please go home?” He hands you your ring and you three leave Jax takes the van and you and Happy drive home. Where you rode that man tell you passed out.

#happy lowman x reader #happy lowman angst #happy lowman smut #happy lowman #david labrava x reader #david labrava #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy x smut #sons of anarchy x reader #tig trager #jax teller

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familyvideostevie · 8 months

Note

what abouttttt eddie being a regular at your place of work (coffee shop? bookstore? some place he had to go one time and it’s not His Scene but he saw you & can’t get enough?)

omg hi bestie you got it! this made me lol also totally stealing your idea here and this is you working at a flower shop when eddie starts to become a regular for some reason | fluff, pre-relationship, 1.3k

It's a quiet day in the shop. Your favorite kind, since it means you get to spend more time on your arrangements and less time explaining to frustrated moms why you cannot bring their orchids back to life.

Is it weird that you like the company of flowers better than people? Yeah, maybe. But it's good money and you like to make people happy, however indirectly. Which is why you try to be nothing but kind to everyone who walks through the door.

But when the bell chimes and you turn to find this guy stumbling into the shop, you can't help but wonder what the hell he's doing here. You've never seen him before -- you'd remember. Long, frizzy curls and ripped jeans, a flannel on under a leather jacket and boots that make his footsteps heavy. He looks a bit scary, to be honest, but the way he almost knocks over a few pots of mums makes him less intimidating and more annoying than anything.

"Can I help you?" you call. He startles like he didn't expect anyone to be here. And then he does a double take.

"I need...flowers," he says. You try to keep a neutral expression on your face. Sometimes you play a game with yourself and try to predict what someone is going to ask for. Maybe he missed a birthday? Needs something to apologize to his mom? Maybe he's picking something up for a party.

"I think I can help you with that."

He coughs and his cheeks darken. "Right, yeah, obviously." He looks around and shoves his hands in his pockets.

"Do you need something specific?" you prompt. His eyes snap back to yours.

"Yeah," he says. "Yes. What says 'sorry I broke your couch?'"

Ah, you think. Apologizing to a girlfriend, probably. You're a little disappointed to realize it.

"I'm not going to ask questions," you tease. His mouth tugs up at the corner and he looks less embarrassed and more like a man on a mission.

"Good idea," he says. You leave the arranging table behind and wander around the shop, pulling stems from buckets as you go. The guy follows you around.

"Do they all mean something?" he asks. You glance over your shoulder at him. He's got his hands tucked in his pockets and his eyes are...really big and brown. And he's got lovely eyelashes. Wow.

"More or less," you say. Your bouquets are a mix, normally. Some flowers for meaning and some just for looks, unless a customer asks for something specific. You bring the bundle back to the table and wrap it in cellophane and then paper, tying it with a ribbon.

"She likes purple," he chimes in. You snip a length of that ribbon and tie the flowers together. Yes, for sure a girlfriend.

"Do you want a card?"

He blinks a few times. Was he staring at you? "What?"

"For the flowers?" You hold up a small folded piece of paper.

"Oh," he says. "Yeah, sure. Do you write it?" You nod. "Okay, uh. Can it say: Robin, We both know I can't afford to buy you a new couch, but hopefully this makes your place smell good. Eddie."

Eddie. Well, now you have a name for this guy you'll never see again.

"You've got nice handwriting," he says. You tie the card at the end of the ribbon and gently place the bouquet on the counter.

"Thank you." The cash register rings as you type in the price. "Twenty dollars, please." Eddie digs in his pockets and produces the bill. Your hands do not brush when he pays. "I hope she likes them," you say.

He looks confused for a second. Jeez, this guy isn't really focused on his girlfriend. "Oh," he says. "Yeah, thanks."

He waves and manages not to knock anything over on his way out. The door chimes and you sigh. Man, he was cute. You do hope this Robin girl likes her flowers.

Eddie comes back two days later and you find yourself worrying that he's broken something else.

"Did she not like them?" you ask without thinking. Eddie raps his knuckles on the table when he reaches you.

"Who?" His eyes travel up and down your form very quickly. Not like he can see much behind your apron, anyway, but still. Dude!

"Your girlfriend?"

Eddie blinks owlishly and then laughs very loudly. Like, with his whole body, leaning over with his hands on his knees. Oh, he's got rings on. Your stomach does something funny.

"She is not my girlfriend," he says. "Christ, that's funny."

You cross you arms, a bit peeved. "Well, I don't know how I was supposed to know that."

"Sweetheart, if I had a girlfriend and I broke her couch I sure as hell would buy her a new one."

Sweetheart. Is he flirting with you?

"Well, what do you need today, then? Break something else?" This close you can see that he's got some freckles on his nose. You rub your hands on your apron.

"I...do," he says. "Uh, I need something that says 'please don't tell anyone I stole your grill'."

He grins at you. You scoff. "Not asking."

It goes like this for two weeks. Two weeks! Eddie comes in to the shop almost every day and asks for something from you. The requests get more and more absurd.

Sorry you lost your sword crossing the parapet and died. Sorry I smoked too much and ate all of your pickles. Sorry you're not as good at skateboarding as me and fell.

You wonder if he's actually giving these to people.

You ask him so one day.

"Cant a guy just get flowers? Maybe they're all for me, sweetheart." He looks entirely too pleased with himself as he says it.

Or...maybe he's coming in to see you.

No, that would be ridiculous, right? Even if he's been asking you questions about yourself. What you like about flowers, what's the weirdest bouquet you've ever made, what you make most often. They manage to be personal and impersonal questions at the same time.

After two weeks, Eddie comes in and plants his forearms -- very nice forearms, you've noticed -- on the counter and says your name. As if you weren't aware the second he walked into the shop.

"Hi, Eddie," you say. "What is it today?"

"I need to ask a girl on a date," he says. Your stomach sinks.

"Okay," you say softly. Well, it was nice while it lasted. "What does she like?"

"That's the problem," he replies. "I don't know."

"Have you asked?" He might be cute and funny and charming but he certainly is still just a boy.

"Not yet." You wader onto the floor and he follows you as always. "What's your favorite?"

Your heart picks up. He's just asking to be nice, you think. He's just asking because it's a natural part of the conversation. You don't answer, instead lead him to a barrel of dark purple roundish flowers. "These," you say, stroking one of the petals. "Dahlias."

"Beauty, commitment, kindness," Eddie recites. You whip around to face him. He shrugs, a soft smile on his face. "I've been reading up."

"Why?" you ask, breathless.

He reaches past you and plucks one stem from the bunch and holds it out. "Will you go on a date with me?"

Oh. You're going to say yes, obviously. "Have you been coming in here to buy flowers?" you ask. It's not a clear question, but Eddie understands.

He takes a step forward. The flower brushes your chest. "I've spent about a million dollars on flowers just to see you as much as possible."

A laugh bubbles up from your throat. "You're silly, Eddie," you say. He grins.

"So is that a yes?"

You take the flower from him and smell it. "Yes."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, masterlist here!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

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cupidjyu · 9 months

Text

the sweetener you are

hyunjae x reader (idea from the anon who requested childhood friends to lovers!)

summary: when a mysterious man moves into the apartment next door, you realize that he’s your childhood best friend who’s disappeared for years. he changed, his life seeming to have soured. but you could just be his sweetener, the one to make him smile again

genre: best friends to lovers, and boy-next-door sorta thing, hurt/comfort for him because he deserves the world, nightmares, healing, one bed trope, youre forced to move in with him hahaha am i evil, back hugs, he acts "drunk" when tired (dont ask why, it was just an excuse to write him being clingy), hes flirty ish and teasing, hes shirtless for like one second (BECAUSE.), sleepy love confessions, kissing, is there tension? i can't tell myself, “sweetheart” good god notes: school started so expect much much less after this... so see you in a bit 🥲🥲but hope u enjoy!!! this is literally just yumi who needs to stop writing long interpretations of their love for hyunjae in the form of fics + song inspo! word count: 12.7k

You coughed. You choked. And then you glared straight at Younghoon who was staring back in complete alarm. Setting the unfinished glass down on the counter with a loud clink, you clenched your jaw with unspoken curse words that threatened to escape your lips.

“This tastes like dirt,” You garbled out. Rushing over to one of your cupboards, you pulled out one of those small sugar packets that you liked to swipe from those cute coffee shops. If it was free, why not take a few? Ripping the paper open, you poured it into the drink that didn’t even look like it belonged on this planet. It was both… green and yellowish-blue at the same time.

Younghoon gasped, slapping a hand over his mouth dramatically. “That’s not healthy!”

“But it tastes so bad,” You whined. “It needs a sweetener.”

He glared, dragging his hand all the way down his jaw in an unattractive way. “It’s an herbal drink. It’s meant to taste bad. Think of all the health benefits you could’ve gotten out of that without the sugar.”

“You made this?” You scrunched up your face in disgust.

“No, I–” He laughed nervously. “My mom did. I promised her I would finish it.”

You narrowed your eyes. “And you couldn’t because it tasted so bad. So you’re making me finish it.”

He gave you a pained smile as he stepped away. “I– who said that?”

“Why’re we even friends?” You questioned before jabbing a finger at the door. “Get out.”

Younghoon pouted but he eventually obliged, opening the apartment door. “You still owe me money for that overpriced tiny piece of cake by the way.”

“It tasted good!” You shot back.

“It did not.” He sighed. “It’s just you with your horrible sweet tooth. Don’t even– hey…” You noticed him peeking out of your door and into the hallway. And then he leaned back in, searching your face with wonder. “Someone’s moving in next door.”

You brightened with interest at that, practically jumping off where you were sitting on the kitchen counter. Bounding over to the door, you poked your head out under Younghoon’s, just like they did in the cartoons. Squinting your eyes, all you could see was a tall man with a cap on that covered most of his face.

“Who’s that?” Younghoon said, slightly too loud for your liking.

With a groan, you elbowed him in the ribs. “Shh…how would I know? Though... he does look better than that old dude who constantly yelled at those courtroom TV shows like he was the judge.” It was like the apartment next to yours was cursed. Magic wasn’t real here. Or at least, in this world. But you still believed that a witch had strolled by and casually placed a hex on Apt 245 for the fun of it. For the time that you’ve been here, you’ve seen about five people move in there. And they were never happy.

Once, there were two parents who had to deal with multiple children who would not stop crying. You hadn’t slept a wink the whole time they were there. They did receive a noise complaint though. Another time, there was a teenager who couldn’t even properly pay off the rent. He didn’t have a job. But he could somehow afford the loudest speaker where he would play the most gut-wrenching, saddest music ever. He got evicted.

But this man… well–he looked decent. Really. No evident curse here. Or at least, yet. When he turned around, you could see that he was very tall and… broad. Apparently, that was the first thing you noticed. He also seemed to pick up the moving boxes with ease and when he had stepped just the slightest to the side, you could see the impossibly perfect slope of his nose. Also a very odd thing to notice.

Younghoon grasped your arm, pulling you back into your own apartment.

“Don’t fall in love.”

You gaped at him. “What? I don’t even know who he is.”

He raised an eyebrow. “But he’s tall. And broad. And has a nice nose. I know you. I know your type.”

Shit.

“You do know me,” You mumbled sheepishly. “But still!” You poked him harshly. “I won’t fall in love. I probably won’t even see him for like– a month. Or he’s going to be cursed and moved out like the others. Don’t worry.”

Your friend narrowed his eyes in skepticism but he eventually nodded. “As long as you don’t bump into him tomorrow or something.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Of course. I won’t fall in love.”

You didn’t fall in love. You fell onto the floor.

And you also happened to bump into him the next day ironically enough.

If only—if only—you decided to pick up your mail yesterday like you were supposed to, this wouldn’t have happened. And by this, you meant being distracted by a cup that rolled out of your new neighbor’s door and then walking straight into his chest.

You squeaked in horror. “I’m sorry!” And then you stepped backwards, tripped on your badly-timed untied shoelace, and ended up on the floor in the middle of the hallway.

When you looked up, there was a pretty hand that reached out to help you up. Taking it with burning cheeks, you could finally see what this man looked like up close and without a cap.

And you would have expected maybe one of those boy-next-door romantic moments where you would fall into his arms and start dating the next day. Oh, and also kiss and eventually get married. But no, you—

“Hyunjae?”

The man—Hyunjae—gaped at you with comically wide eyes.

“Y/n,” He breathed out.

As long-lost childhood friends, the most sensible thing to do was ask how he was. But you often defied expectations, positively or negatively, and so instead you lunged forward, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him into a tight hug.

Hyunjae, whom you’ve known since you were just young kids, has been your best friend for as long as you could remember. He used to be on the elementary school track team while you… were on the bleachers trying to tell the difference between subtraction and addition. But luckily, Hyunjae was both a smart and kind kid and so he had stopped in the middle of his running to sit with you and teach what your teacher couldn’t do properly.

He was always one year older, always more mature and experienced. But he tended to throw that away just for you and join in on playing games with you when he should’ve been studying for an exam. But he did so to cheer you up. He was sweet like that and you adored spending your afternoons after school with him.

The two of you even got to experience those dreadful high school years together, except there was always that haunting realization—that he would eventually graduate first. But he always reassured you.

“It’s just one year, silly,” He joked, pulling you into a side hug, one that perfectly portrayed his understanding of your worries. “I’ll text and call you all the time. Promise.”

Promises were often broken and this wasn’t any different. For when he had left for college, he never contacted you ever again. You had tried to reach out, but he never responded. And so, for your whole college term, you never saw Lee Hyunjae, your supposed “best friend,” ever again.

And you should have been mad—no, furious to see him again. You should have pushed him away and went on with your life while skillfully avoiding him. But just the simple sight of him brought back all those fond memories–baking cupcakes, falling asleep together just after screaming over a horror movie, holding each other when life just gets too much... And so you found yourself buried into his chest, holding him tightly.

“Hyunjae,” You whispered again, shutting your eyes in both contentment and fear of him pushing you away again.

But you felt two hands snake around your middle, hugging you back. There were a million questions running through your mind at that moment, wondering why he had disappeared but welcomed you so easily. But you set them aside, choosing to just melt into his still familiar embrace.

Finally though, you managed to pull away, looking at him with a fond smile. He smiled back. He had grown even more handsome than before. He managed to become taller, broader, and more charming all at once. His features were sharp, more mature. Something about him–the way he was dressed in a literal suit–really portrayed to you that he really was an adult now, as opposed to the teenager who procrastinated on science projects.

“How are you?” He smiled, almost too polite for your liking. You could see the way he stood, awkwardly and with fidgeting hands. And that was when it all hit you like a truck.

Your eyebrows suddenly furrowed, your lips pulled into a scowl, and your eyes narrowed as you stepped forward. “How am I? No. How could you–” You banged a fist on his firm chest. “–leave me–” Another punch. “–like that–” He stepped back in growing alarm. “–and act all polite and uneasy as if we weren’t best friends for years?” Both of your fists lingered on his chest, your strength growing weak from frustration.

“Y/n, I–” He winced.

“Actually, I hate you.” You glared. But your words differentiated from your actions when your hand came to smooth down his crumpled tie. “I don’t want to see you ever again. You’re an absolute asshole and I–” But your eyes met with his, his gaze amused and soft. And then you sniffled, looking down at the ground, the urge to cry suddenly overcoming you.

Hyunjae laughed quietly. “I’m sorry. If you would allow me to explain?”

“Great,” You grumbled. “Then do so. Since you’ve owed me an explanation after all these years.”

He glanced at his watch. “I have work. Tomorrow, maybe? Trust me.”

You looked at him in bewilderment. “Work? But you haven’t even unpacked yet.” You eyed his apartment with the door open. There were multiple boxes strewn about, some not even open yet.

“Emergencies,” He sighed. That was when you noticed just how exhausted he looked. “I have to go.”

“Oh,” You stuttered. “Okay. I– good luck?”

Hyunjae smiled, pinching your cheek just like he had done all those years ago. He seemed to be completely unfazed over the fact that you just punched him in anger. “Thank you.” And he was locking the door behind him and heading for the elevator. But just as he was walking away, you felt the need to call something out. Just a few words.

“Hyunjae?” You said.

He turned around, tilting his head. You never knew just how well work attire suited him. He looked almost… attractive. But god, what were you thinking?

“I missed you.”

He smiled but he never quite gave you a response as the elevator ding had interrupted him. Instead, he just gave you a small wave.

It was odd. Awkward. But one step at a time, you figured. It’s been years after all.

The next day, as promised, he had shown up to your door. This time, since it was the weekend, he was wearing a simple white shirt. One that still never failed to accentuate his broad shoulders.

But initially, you thought it was Younghoon and not a guy who you haven’t seen for multiple years. So you may or may not have opened the door with your hair like a bird’s nest and your sleepwear on that… wasn’t meant for the general public to see. Apparently, Hyunjae fits in the general public category now. Best friend? No, you hate him.

Kind of.

Not really.

Stumbling to the door, you flung it open, your eyes barely open. Immediately, you were met with the sight of just. Long legs. Not very helpful.

“Who–” And then you looked up, only to meet Hyunjae’s eyes. Choking on your spit, you straightened up. “Hello,” You blurted out in a monotone voice.

He raised an eyebrow and tilted his chin down with amusement. “And who’s the uneasy one now?”

“Sorry, I…” Your eyes trailed down to what you were wearing. With an internal gasp, you stepped backward. “I’m going to– change.”

He widened his eyes and then his gaze also traveled down. His cheeks were oddly red and he cleared his throat, looking away.

You cringed and shut the door in his face before he could even say anything.

Now in proper clothes that were for the general public, you opened the door again. He was still standing there with that same smile. The same kind, caring one he always regarded you with even when you were just kids.

“Where should we talk?” You asked.

His eyes glanced over to his own door. “My place?” He offered quietly. “I have unpacking to do.”

You stared at him silently. And then you nodded with an excited smile. “I can help.”

“Oh no,” He laughed softly. “You don’t have to. I’m fine on my–”

“You don’t look fine,” You interrupted. And without thinking, your hand came up to cup his cheek, turning him to face you. “You look tired.”

He stared at you wordlessly before sighing. “I guess I am.”

“So let me help.” You grinned. “I’m using my vacation days from work right now anyway.”

He could only mutter a shy “okay” as he opened the door for you to enter. Looking around, you found that the only things that he had unpacked lacked much of any personality. He took out the necessities and a bunch of… work. Papers, a computer, work suits and the like.

“You seem busy,” You remarked as you walked over to the box labeled “decorations” only for there to literally be one single plant that looked like it needed to be watered. In fact, it was on the brink of death. Immediately, your face was contorting in worry and you turned to where he was just standing at the entrance with an embarrassed expression. “What… happened to your initial dream?”

He approached you and peered into the box. “What dream?”

“The one where you wanted to have a place full of pretty plants.”

“Yeah well,” He laughed bitterly. “Circumstances change aspirations.”

You gulped nervously at his change of tone. Something was bothering him. Something, in particular, caused him to move here. You led him to the couch and sat next to him.

“So what is it? Why did you cut everyone off and– disappear?” You asked cautiously.

He looked at you for a long minute like he was trying to figure out a response for himself. And finally, he just sighed in defeat.

“Problems.”

“Like what?” You prodded.

“A lot. And I wouldn’t want to lay them all on you.” He gave you a weak smile. You regarded him with a soft look in your eyes, searching his face for any sort of answer. All you could see was a flame that had long been put out.

“Then tell me one.”

“One?” He bit his lip nervously. “One…”

“Just one,” You said gently.

“Like the one where the place I used to work at didn’t treat me right? That they refused to give me anything?” He mumbled, his voice trailing off with embarrassment. “So I moved here so that I could get away? That one?”

You froze at his words. You processed them and that was when it began to make sense. He wasn’t going to work yesterday. He was going to an interview. His computer was open to job openings and the papers weren’t reports. They were resumes.

“Hyunjae,” You whispered. But he was already distancing himself, standing up from the couch. You gazed at him with concern as you stood up, only for him to take a step backward.

“Why are you…” You frowned. “It’s okay, you know. Did you think I would look at you any differently?”

His jaw clenched. “Well, I did cut you off because I didn’t want to worry you. You always told me I would be successful, the best. So how exactly could I face you after they…”

“That’s not your fault. And I’m sorry for putting that on you,” You mustered, stepping closer. This time, he didn’t step away. He allowed you to do anything. He let you trail a hand down to his wrist, holding it gently. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me more. I’m sorry.”

He watched you with slight surprise, and with his lips pulled into a straight line, he whispered a small, “I should be the one who’s sorry.”

You shook your head with a smile. “Don’t be.”

He stayed silent at that, simply studying your features. You could tell he still wanted to apologize. But then the corner of his lips lifted slightly. “You grew up.” His tone was gentle, so kind, just like you’ve always known. It was a little quieter than before though, more closed off as if he was afraid–scared of what you would think of him.

You laughed bashfully. “And so did you.” Your hand trailed up to his shoulder. “Did you start working out?”

He smirked. “Why, do you like my progress?”

You snorted. “Could improve.”

He scoffed yet he only looked at you with fondness. The two of you simply stood there, in the midst of his empty apartment, just staring at each other. And then you giggled. He laughed as well before reaching forward and pulling you into his arms, squeezing you so tight that you felt the air leave your lungs.

“Ah–” You choked. “Hyunjae. You’re killing me.”

“I’m showing you my newfound strength,” He joked, stepping away. You were about to refute but instead, you felt your gaze wandering to his arms. Since when were they so toned and–

“Very funny,” You weakly replied. Escaping from his persisting soft gaze, you stepped away and approached the various boxes. “What can I help you with?”

Hyunjae didn’t have much. Apparently, all those large boxes contained about three small things.

“I overestimated,” He replied with a sheepish smile when you asked.

Most of his things were put away yet when you looked around, the apartment was void of any joy or charm. The only boxes that were left were his clothes which he claimed he could do another day. After putting away his single cup and plate–that’s all he had apparently–you turned around only to see that he was crouched, bending towards that same plant that you pointed out. Its leaves were drooping and the stem wilting, as his fingers gently prodded at it. When you looked closely, you could see a melancholy look on his face, a small frown tugging on his lips.

It was true, that Hyunjae had many dreams when he was younger. That was normal for many people. But to witness it all dissipate before your sight, no sign of light behind his eyes, you couldn’t help but feel your heart clench.

Walking over, you crouched down next to him. He gave you a forced smile.

“Kind of sad,” He remarked with a disappointed sigh. “I bought it only for me to fail to take care of it.”

“You can always buy another one.”

“Mhm,” He hummed dully. “Sure.”

You watched him wordlessly, observing the way his gaze fell when one of the leaves broke off. Shaking your head, you suddenly stood up.

“Let’s go out.”

He looked up at you in surprise. “What?”

“I’ll be your tour guide of the town,” You joked. “I know everything.”

Standing up with you, he stole a glance at his phone. “I can’t.”

“Why?” You pouted.

“I’m waiting for my result from the interview.”

You sighed and took his wrist in yours, pulling him to the door. “You need to get your mind off that for a second.”

“But–”

“Please?” You looked up at him, even batting your eyelashes. “Just for a moment?” You also exaggerated a pout.

He blinked in shock, his eyes trailing over your expression. “What are you doing?”

“Making you feel bad. Is it working?” You held back a grin.

He huffed out a laugh. “Definitely. Fine, just for a moment.”

You grinned and you were already pulling on your shoes and bounding out the door, leaving Hyunjae to smile to himself.

“This is a convenience store.” You pointed at it with a bright smile.

He rolled his eyes. “I know what a convenience store is.”

You laughed and led him to the next block before abruptly stopping. “This is the karaoke bar,” You said, pointing at the nearby building.

“Fun,” He muttered.

“We should go one day.” You smiled. “Actually no.” You scowled. “I got drunk there once and I think they banned me because I was dancing on the tables.”

Hyunjae turned to you in slight shock. “You? Drunk?”

“What?” You widened your eyes in surprise. “What is it?”

“I just… you always said that you hated the taste of alcohol,” He replied in wonder.

“Times change.” You grinned, nudging his shoulder. He gave you a small smile back.

Then, you led him to your favorite spot. The central park in the middle of town. It was a beautiful day out, the sky bright and blue. You loved to sit at one of the benches, watching birds fly by or kids play happily on the playground.

“Wait here.” You patted the seat. And then you were running off, nowhere to be seen. Hyunjae simply sat there, observing the calm atmosphere. When you came back, you were holding a stick of cotton candy in your hand. It was large, almost covering your whole face. Hyunjae chuckled, taking it from you so you wouldn’t trip on the ground.

“Aren’t we too old for this?” He questioned.

You shook your head. “I still love it.”

He took a bite and turned to look at you with furrowed eyebrows. “It’s so sweet.”

“That’s why it’s good!” You stared at him like he was the craziest man alive.

“It’s because you’ve always had a sweet tooth.” He frowned, gently placing it back in your hands.

“Fine,” You scoffed. “If that’s how you treat your best friend.” And you were taking a bite on the opposite side. When you pulled it away from your face, you were startled by a loud laugh. From Hyunjae, specifically. Turning to him with wide eyes, you could even see him smiling.

It was not like the other smiles that you’ve seen so far. Those ones were small, lacking much of any emotion. But this one was wide, full with amusement and happiness.

“Wha– oh,” You huffed, realizing that there was cotton candy on your nose. Hyunjae laughed even louder and suddenly he was leaning in to gently wipe it off with his finger.

“Cutie,” He whispered fondly, his other hand gently cupping the side of your face.

Your heart stuttered at the word. “Wh-what?”

He gulped, pulling away like he was burned. “Oh, I…”

You quickly recovered, instead scooching even closer to him so that your shoulders were touching. “You think I’m cute? Even when I’m all grown up?”

“Always.”

“I missed your smile,” You stated as the two of you were walking back to the apartment complex.

You had expected him to point out that he had smiled other times before. But instead, he gazed at you with soft eyes.

“I did too. It’s been a while since I’ve felt so happy,” He said. “All thanks to you.”

“Of course!” You beamed, looping an arm with his before pulling him closer. “You can always count on me.”

He didn’t respond this time. But his expression said it all. Thank you, thank you, thank you, was all you could see in his dark brown eyes. Smiling, you bumped your body playfully against his.

“Are you busy tomorrow?” You asked.

Again, you found yourself in his apartment the next day. Apparently, he had just gotten back from running and he needed to take a shower. So, you were looking through his boxes full of clothes. You sorted through them, folding them until you came across a hoodie. You didn’t recognize it, but the fabric of it was so… soft and warm. Your hands held onto it, contemplating what it would feel like if you just–

The door to the bathroom creaked open. You gasped and shoved it behind you, greatly hoping that he didn’t notice you staring at it longingly. But alas, you just had to have slow reflexes at this moment.

“Do you like it?” He asked. “Put it on.”

You laughed awkwardly, turning to face him, only for your protests to come stuttering to a stop. Your eyes trailed down from his damp hair to his… whole torso. His bare torso. He was shirtless. Right out of the shower, water droplets sitting prettily on his collarbones, traveling all the way down to his chest and his– he definitely works out.

“Oh,” You breathed out, your cheeks flushing red as you frantically looked away. This was not how you expected to reunite with your best friend after so long.

“Sorry,” He replied, his voice low. “My shirt’s in there.”

You nodded, refusing to look up. It was quiet for a moment, too quiet that you contemplated just shoving his clothes into his hands while dutifully avoiding the sight of his bare chest.

But then he was right beside you and he smelled so, so good as he leaned over you, his hand gently grasping your waist. To take a shirt. Very unnecessary but it still left you inhaling sharply. Feeling yourself go dizzy as you stood there, eyes trained on the ground, and every single muscle in all of human anatomy completely rigid until you were sure he was properly dressed.

Taking a peek, you were met with his teasing smile.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes,” You mustered.

“You were staring weren’t you?” He leaned even closer, his eyes searching yours with amusement. His hand gently lifted your chin up, making you swallow thickly at the way he was gazing at you with a small smirk.

“I wasn’t,” You whispered shakily.

“Hm,” He hummed. “You look a little flushed though.”

“It was nothing,” You shoved him away, feeling like your face was on fire. “You shouldn’t just walk around like that. It’s…”

“Mhm.” He only continued to smile wider. “Whatever you say.”

You groaned, abruptly turning away to hide your reddening cheeks. But then your eyes landed back on that same hoodie.

“I know that look on your face,” He teased, picking it up. “You like it.”

“I don’t.”

“Okay,” He simply replied, shrugging and turning around. You were just about to question his suspiciously short response when out of nowhere, he whipped back around and pulled the hoodie over you. Immediately, you were encompassed in warmth and– did he always smell this good? And why was he staring at you so softly with that stupid fond smile and why was your heart beating a mile a minute and–

“Hyunjae,” You groaned. “What was that for?”

But he stayed silent, simply examining you wearing his clothes. You tilted your head.

“Do I look good?”

His breath hitched and now it was him with reddening cheeks as he backed away. You stifled a laugh as you stepped forward, cornering him against the edge of the kitchen counter.

“And I know that look on your face,” You teased back. “You like it.”

His eyes fluttered, almost like he was fighting the urge to look over your body once again. He inhaled deeply and then he straightened, leaning over you this time. With a subtle smile, he whispered something that left shivers down your spine.

“I love it.”

Oh my god. You treaded backwards, suddenly feeling conscious of everything. His eyes on you–all over you–the way the shirt clung to his body, the rushing thought of the fact that you saw him without it on just a few minutes ago–everything came over you like a bucket of ice water.

“I–” With wide eyes, he only continued to approach you, the scent of his shampoo overcoming you quickly. You couldn’t come up with a comeback anymore. At first, you thought that this was just friendly banter, the type that you guys would do in the school cafeteria. But this–this was something different. With the way he was looking at you with darkening eyes, you weren’t quite sure this was that “friendly banter” thing anymore.

“Shut up,” You blurted out as you pulled the hoodie off you and thrust it into his chest.

“Why?” He grinned. “I like this game.”

You raised your eyebrows. “What game is this exactly?”

“The game of making the other person flustered.”

You stood there for a moment, thinking. You couldn’t quite come up with a verbal comeback. So you could instead…

Taking a step forward, you hooked a hand around the back of his neck, letting your touch linger there for a moment. A stuttering breath was caught thickly in his throat as he looked down at you in bafflement.

And then you let your fingertips trail around, down his neck, across his collarbone, slightly pulling down the hem of his shirt and stopping just at his chest where you could feel his heart thump erratically.

Your trace on his skin left sparks flying in your heart and when you had looked up, you knew that Hyunjae was experiencing the same thing.

He was looking down at you, completely speechless and his eyes round in shock. You smiled in triumph, leaning close to one of his reddening ears.

“Then I win.”

And you were heading for the door. But just as you turned around, you could see Hyunjae who was still leaning against the counter, cheeks now red as he stared down at the ground. You giggled, closing the door behind you.

The next time you saw Hyunjae, unsurprisingly, he looked exhausted again. In fact, he didn’t even recognize you at first with how he was gazing off into space rather than unlocking his own door.

“Come over tonight,” You offered.

He raised an eyebrow. “To do what?”

You choked. “Not that. Movie night!” You winked, patting his shoulder before leaving for the grocery store. You made sure to mentally add popcorn to your list.

And so, when it was pitch dark at night, you had opened your door to Hyunjae, fidgeting nervously at the entrance. You laughed, grabbing his wrist and pulling him in.

“Don’t be nervous.” You grinned. “It’s just me.”

As you set up the movie, you couldn’t help but notice Hyunjae looking around your apartment. He seemed to be taking in all of your decorations, and the fact that you had more than one cup and plate. You smiled.

“We can go shopping if you want,” You spoke up. “For your apartment.”

He glanced at you in shock. But he eventually nodded with a small smile, that same one you noticed that he often forced when he was tired and down.

Now sitting on the couch, side-by-side but never quite touching, the two of you watched a movie. It was a comfortable silence and whenever you would glance at Hyunjae, he would notice and turn his attention back to you. And every time you would make eye contact, you made sure to give him a bright smile, one that showed him that “I’m always here for you.”

"Staring?" He teased.

"In fact I am," You replied. "Forget the movie, you're the award-winning feature."

He laughed again. The same bright one at the park.

"I didn't take you to be such a flirter," He remarked.

"I'm not," You refuted. "You really are amazing."

He gave you a smile that wasn't so convincing. "If you say so."

Near the resolution of the film, you found yourself scooching over to him, letting your shoulders touch. But that wasn’t exactly enough, so you lifted his arm so that you could rest your head on his chest, his body warmth easily spreading to yours.

“What are you doing?” He muttered.

For a second, you thought he might actually be annoyed. But, when you looked up, you could see his softening eyes and the slight blush on his cheeks. You huffed in amusement and you only persisted, snuggling close to his chest. Eventually, he gave up on the whole tough act and he let his arm wrap around you, rubbing your arm in up-and-down motions.

You didn’t notice that you had fallen asleep.

Though you did briefly remember two… moments. One of them was him cautiously bringing you to your bed. The other being a warm hand softly caressing your cheek.

You woke up alone. Good! Who else did you expect? Rubbing your eyes, there was a constant sound ringing in your ears. The doorbell, you groaned. Stumbling to the door, you were hoping maybe… Hyunjae? But instead, it was your landlord. You furrowed your eyebrows in concern.

She sighed, shaking her head.

“Bad news.”

When it was Hyunjae this time who had invited you over, you were pleasantly surprised. Opening the door, you could see him sitting at the table, staring intently at his computer.

Tilting your head, you were about to ask what he was looking at. But then he suddenly jumped up, the chair almost falling over. There was a bright smile on his face as he rushed over to you.

“Hyunjae?” You looked at him in confusion.

“I got the job,” He exclaimed. “I got it.”

“You did?” You gasped. “That’s so– that’s amazing! Congratul–” You inhaled sharply when you felt two hands grasp onto your waist. And suddenly, your whole world shifted once you realized that he was literally picking you up and twirling you around. You laughed shyly as you allowed him to, watching fondly at the way he smiled so, so freely.

Once he had slowed down, there was an impending thought in the back of your mind that appeared from all of the adrenaline. He could put you down and you could lean in and maybe… maybe– press your lips to his as an extra cheer. Mentally slapping yourself, you felt your cheeks grow hot. Again, what were you thinking?

His hands were still on your waist, the both of you out of breath. You smiled, giggling softly. He smiled back, his eyes bright and sparkling.

“I’m proud of you,” You finally said.

“It’s all thanks to you,” He replied.

“Hm, well,” You huffed. “Guess who lost their apartment.”

He gaped at you. “What?”

“Not permanently,” You groaned. “But there’s been a technical problem that has to be investigated and fixed. So I can’t stay there for the meantime.”

He looked at you, deep in thought. And then his hands tightened on your waist. “Then stay here with me.”

Now it was your turn to gawk at him. “What?”

“Please.” He smiled. “I owe you.”

You blushed. “I didn’t do much.”

“You did.” He walked forward, nearly caging you against the wall. “Everything. You’ve helped me get this job.” Another step forward. “I’m indebted to you.”

“H-hyunjae,” You stuttered, trying your best to avoid stealing a glance at his lips.

“Just temporarily.”

You made a mental pro and con list. Pros–He was your childhood best friend meaning that he knew you best. Cons–what if things changed? What if you… fell? And you didn’t mean physically.

With a hesitant sigh in defeat, you responded quietly.

“Temporarily.”

When you and Hyunjae had art class together, you learned a little bit more about him. He was always the one who enjoyed the sketching, the outlining with the black pen, and shading in grey. You, on the other hand, were the one who would color in between those lines with vibrant colors, brightening the picture into something truly complete.

That was how you complimented each other. People often painted him out to be cold and blunt, but you always saw past that. It was always you who thought that he was the sweetest person you’ve ever met–the one who took care of you when you were sick and who pulled you away from passing cars.

Just like one of those art projects, you began to liven up his apartment with your own things. Of course, you didn’t bring everything, but the simple pieces of your toothbrush next to his and your coat hung up on the rack, were enough to make the puzzle feel just complete.

Soon enough, the evening came which brought the dilemma of where you would sleep.

“The couch,” Hyunjae spoke up, walking out of the bathroom again, with damp hair. But at least he was fully clothed this time. Still, that vision was practically ingrained into your mind.

“You’re right.” You nodded in agreement. “I’ll–”

“Not you,” He huffed. “Me.”

“Oh,” You breathed out. Abruptly you stood up in defiance. “No!” You blurted out. “That’s rude.”

He looked at you entirely unimpressed. “I’m being a good host. A gentleman.”

“Exactly.” You scowled. “You’re going to make me feel like I’m intruding. And look who invited me in the first place?”

He sighed, glancing at the bedroom door. “There’s only one bed.”

“Then we’ll share,” You replied, completely sure of yourself. Hyunjae didn’t respond so you lifted your chin high and walked past him and into the bedroom as odd as it may sound. However, in the corner of your eye, you could see that his ears were slightly red.

You may have underestimated the sheer awkwardness. Just a bit. Maybe a lot.

The two of you stood on either side of the bed, facing each other, contemplating the fact that this would be the first time you would be sleeping together. Actually, it wasn’t really awkward per se. It was more… hilarious. You pursed your lips, trying to stifle your laughter, while Hyunjae’s cheeks were puffed out in embarrassment.

Again, as the bolder one, you climbed under the sheets first. Still, Hyunjae was just standing, hesitating. You squinted up at him through the darkness.

Even under the dim lighting, you could see that his cheeks were incredibly flushed.

“I think I’ll just go back to the–” He couldn’t even finish his sentence because you were grabbing onto his hand and pulling him down into bed. He didn’t really protest though as you could sense him slowly melting into the warmth of it.

The lamp was off now and you were both succumbed to darkness. It was silent, only the sound of Hyunjae’s calm breathing. You weren’t exactly tired right now. You knew that it would take you a while to fall asleep. But that was fine! You would just wait until he fell asleep first.

Except, when you turned on your side to face him, you could see him staring back, big, round doe eyes on you. So, scratch that. And now you were cold which you weren’t used to. Your apartment was usually the perfect temperature, but this one left you shivering all over.

Unconsciously, you began to shift closer to his body. He’s always been the warm one. That used to be your strategy to not freeze to death when the two of you would walk down the winter festival together.

Suddenly though, you felt an arm across your waist and steady breathing on the side of your neck.

“Hm?” You hummed in confusion, wondering if the chest against your shoulder was just a hallucination.

But then he replied in a quiet, lower voice.

“Is this okay?” He whispered.

Oh, this was more than okay. You were familiar with his embrace. But to feel it just moments before you fell asleep brought a sudden bout of tranquility.

“Perfect.” You smiled to yourself, curling up to his body in which he held you closer in response. It was warm, comforting, just perfect. It didn’t take you a while to fall asleep anymore.

When you awoke, you were slightly—no, very confused about why it was still dark out. You were pretty sure the room should be bright with natural light from the sun. Or maybe you’ve just gone crazy. But that was when you glanced at the time. It was still the middle of the night.

When you turned to your side, that was also when you realized that it was Hyunjae who had woken you up. Unknowingly at that. His arm was still around your waist but this time, his hold was almost painfully tight. If you looked closely, you could see that his eyes were screwed shut, his eyebrows twitching with small stuttering breaths escaping him.

But, you’ve always heard the saying that you weren’t supposed to wake someone up from a nightmare. So you hesitated, keeping your hands close to yourself, worriedly watching. At some point, he jolted awake by himself.

Now, his breathing was even faster and he had shot up, looking around frantically. Blinking your eyes sleepily, you turned on the nearby light and sat up with him.

“Hyunjae?” You whispered, looking him over in concern.

He turned to you in a growing distraught state and he widened his eyes. “Are you–”

“It’s just me,” You muttered. “Bad dream?”

Hyunjae froze for a moment but he slowly nodded. And usually, it was you who initiated the hugs. But this time, he was the one who lunged forward, holding you close to his chest. His hands grasped onto you tightly as he buried his nose into your neck.

With the way he was holding you so tightly, so… desperately, you wondered if this had happened before. But still, you allowed him to just hold you close, your own arms coming around to gently pat his back.

You didn’t know when, but he eventually pulled away. He refused to look you in the eye and so you brought a gentle hand to the side of his face, coaxing him to face you.

“How long has this been going on for?” You frowned.

He shut his eyes. “A while.”

Your heart clenched at his quiet response. For the past few days, you had thought he was feeling better, less exhausted. But behind the bedroom door, it must be different.

“Do you… want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know…” He trailed off.

“You don’t have to tell me–”

“...what they’re about.”

“Oh,” You breathed. “The nightmares?”

He nodded with tired eyes. “But while I was gone–away from you–people I’ve loved, everything I’ve cherished seemed to disappear before my eyes. It wasn’t just work it was… a lot.” His voice was quiet, hard to hear but it was loud enough that you could hear each and every heart-twisting emotion.

You stayed silent, your hand finding his to stroke the back of it soothingly.

“I felt hopeless.” He frowned. “I guess those nightmares felt like I was reliving that all over again.”

He didn’t say anything after that. You watched him cautiously, wondering what exactly to do. But then you felt his hand tighten on yours slightly and that was your cue to shift even closer.

He glanced at you with an ashamed expression that only made the pit in your stomach drop even more. Slowly, slow enough so that he could back away if he wanted to, you wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close against you. Almost instantly, he was breathing out a low sigh of relief as he nuzzled even further into your embrace.

“You’re not alone anymore,” You whispered. “And… thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.”

He didn’t say anything, but when he held you back, it was a perfect answer. The two of you stayed like that, in the dead of night, just holding each other until you began to feel drowsy from his warmth. It wasn’t the first time that you’ve done so. The only difference was that it was always you who needed that extra piece of comfort. It was never Hyunjae. Seeing him open up was different but something that you were most grateful for.

“I never replied to you the day we met in the hallway,” He spoke, interrupting your thoughts.

You pondered for a moment, recalling the memory. “When I said that I missed you?”

He nodded. “I didn’t reply because I was afraid you would still be mad at me for leaving you so abruptly.”

You smiled softly and shook your head, your hand coming up to the back of his head to stroke his hair soothingly. His eyes widened slightly in shock but he quickly melted into your touch. “I was angry at first.”

He laughed quietly, though his voice was watery with unfallen tears.

“But now I’m not,” You whispered. “I promise. I’m just happy to see you again.”

He pulled away to look up at you, searching your face to make sure that you were telling the truth. When you only gazed back with utmost sincerity, he let a small smile tug on his lips.

“I missed you,” He had finally replied, answering your statement from before. “More than you know. It was hard without you.”

Your gaze softened once you noticed the sparkle of a few tears in his eyes and when he blinked, your sleeve was immediately coming up to pat his cheek, drying the ones that had broken free.

“I missed you too,” You responded and gently, you were pulling him back into bed. And this time, without hesitation, he was hooking both of his arms around you, tightening you into his chest.

“...so much,” He muttered sleepily. “I missed you so much.”

“You have me now.”

“Always.” And you felt his hand grasp yours, guiding it to where his heart was, thumping in a soothing rhythm. “In here.”

You were the first one to wake up. It seemed that Hyunjae’s nightmare and tears had left him too exhausted to even notice you unwrapping yourself from his protective embrace. And so, you took it as your duty to cook something decent for him to wake up to.

Except maybe Hyunjae did notice because he opened the door shortly after. You probably should have placed a pillow in his arms before you left. He walked out and you had to stop yourself from cooing because that would be a little bit… weird. But you couldn’t help it because the sight of his hair tousled and messy, his eyes barely opened and puffy from the tears, and his lips pouted adorably, left you smiling with endearment.

“Morning sleepyhead.” You grinned, turning the stove on.

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he shuffled over to where you were standing behind the kitchen counter.

You tilted your head in amusement, wondering how he managed to navigate with his eyes barely open. “Are you feeling better?”

Again, still no response. You watched as he circled the counter, positioning himself behind you. And then you gasped quietly once you registered the strong arms that enveloped your waist, pulling you into a warm hug, your back now pressed up against his chest. You could even feel his nose nuzzling into the back of your neck, breathing deeply.

You simply just froze, unable to do anything. Once you realized he wasn’t going to move anytime soon, you turned the stove off and simply allowed him to hug you to his heart’s content. He let out a sleepy hum. Or was it a whine?

“You’re clingy in the morning,” You mused.

“Mhm.” Even his morning voice was cute.

And when you said sleepy, you meant it. Literally–you were pretty sure he fell asleep while back-hugging you in the middle of the kitchen. You practically had to hold on to the counter to brace his weight and when you stole a glance over your shoulder, you had to stifle a laugh. His cheek was smushed into your shoulder and his eyes shut in content.

“O–kay,” You heaved, forcing your body to turn around. And still, he would have almost collapsed into you if you hadn’t planted your hands on his shoulders to hold him up. His head lolled to the side as he peeked an eye open to look at you drowsily.

You chuckled and your hand came up to his hair to ruffle it. Immediately, he was leaning into your touch and when your hand traveled down to cup his cheek, he was nuzzling into it like a puppy.

“I missed you,” He slurred, his voice huskier than usual.

“Mm, you said that already,” You hummed teasingly, a smile threatening to spread across your lips. “Hyunjae.”

“Hm?” He smiled lazily.

“You’re acting drunk and it’s like–” You glanced at the clock. “Seven in the morning.”

“And what about it? I missed you,” He grumbled, an adorable frown on his lips.

“Ah,” You sighed, shaking your head. “Go splash water on your face, you dummy. Then you’ll wake up properly.”

He still didn’t budge. And so, using every single ounce of your strength, you had to carry him all the way to the bathroom as he was still clinging onto you like a koala.

After a few minutes, with the sound of the bathroom sink splashing in the background, you finally managed to start cooking something. But then the door clicked open and you looked up. Hyunjae, his eyes finally open, was blushing so hard that you couldn’t even conceal your laugh anymore.

“Missed me?” You remarked.

He winced in response, his cheeks continuing to flame red.

“I don’t know what got into me,” He muttered, refusing to look you in the eye.

You beckoned him over and he finally looked up at you shyly.

“It was cute,” You teased. “You’re cute when you’re sleepy.”

“And what else?” He quickly recovered.

Your breath hitched. Ah, you thought. There he was. The usual Hyunjae when he was fully awake. The one who loved to tease you until you were blushing and hiding your face.

“Don’t do this again,” You groaned.

“Do what?”

“That.”

“You’ll have to elaborate on that, sweetheart.”

You raised an eyebrow at the nickname, completely unfazed. But when your eyes traveled down, that was when you realized just how close he was. He continued to lean forward until he was caging you against the counter, both of his hands on either side of you. It wasn’t the flirting that got you, it was his body encompassing you so, so effortlessly, making you feel smaller than you really were.

He chuckled. “Cat got your tongue?”

Oh, this is definitely how best friends act. You were one hundred percent sure about that.

He smirked, tilting his chin down, as his hand traveled from the edge of the counter down to your hip.

Fifty percent.

His eyes wandering elsewhere–somewhere along the lines of your lips.

One percent.

“The breakfast is going to burn,” You stuttered.

He simply licked his lips, his gaze fixated on yours.

“I can always try something else.”

You were screwed.

The first day of Hyunjae’s new job was the very last day of your brief vacation from work. With a sigh, you scrolled through the shows and movies, only for you to ultimately turn off the TV in boredom. You weren’t going to beat around the bush and refuse to admit that you felt lonely without him. Of course, you saw him in the morning, already dressed in a suit (that fit amazingly on him, dare you add), but it was only for a short moment.

He still had nightmares but they were becoming less and less frequent. Sometimes, when they happened, you would just pull him closer and he would immediately relax with a small sigh, almost like you had the superpower to eliminate his night terrors.

And sleeping together never was awkward again. In fact, you adequately enjoyed it–his arms around you and vice versa. Did best friends regularly cuddle at night and gaze at each other for so long that your heartbeat started to speed up? That… you weren’t quite sure about.

Yawning, you found yourself lying down, spreading across the couch. You didn’t even do much today yet your eyes still threatened to shut close.

At some point, you blinked your eyelids open once you heard the door unlocking. Sitting up, you smiled softly at the sight of Hyunjae opening the door. His tie was already loose and his hair was blown up from the wind. Squinting your eyes, you then noticed that he was practically stumbling into the entrance, almost like all of his coordination had dissipated.

His eyes were droopy and his lips pouted from what you would guess to be exhaustion. Everyone’s first day of work was like that. You watched as he set down his work bag and walked over to you, very… very slowly.

“How was work?” You questioned, looking up at him.

And just like last time, he didn’t respond. Silently, he leaned forward and literally–very literally–laid on top of you. His body weight pulled you back down to lie on the couch and his arms were snaking around you as his legs tangled with yours. Speechless, you felt as he nuzzled back into your neck, just like he’s begun to do so often now.

“You look gorgeous today,” He whispered, his voice very oddly slurred.

Your breath hitched. “Are you drunk?”

He looked up at that and you practically choked on air once you realized how close his face was to yours. And then he smiled languidly and shook his head.

“Are you sure?” You searched him for any sign–red cheeks, the scent of the alcoholic drink–yet you couldn’t find any.

“I’m just tired,” He mumbled, planting his face back into the crook of your neck.

“Okay,” You laughed. Gently, your hand came up to his broad back to rub it in circles, the material of the suit rough and honestly quite unsatisfying. But still, you persisted once you felt his tense muscles slowly soften. Slowly though, you came to a stop. “Hyunjae.”

“Hm?” He hummed.

“You need to take a shower,” You huffed. “C’mon.” With all of your power, you pushed him up and off you. Again, his head tilted to the side with a tired smile. You laughed and shoved him until he finally obliged and went off to the bathroom.

Meanwhile, you were left there, contemplating his strange behavior. He never acted this clingy before. Not even for the years that you’ve known him. It was only after that particular night that he started to… do this.

When he was done showering, he stepped out. You had hoped that he would be more awake now, but it seemed he was even drowsier than before–too tired to even dry his own hair. With a click of your tongue, you motioned him over to sit down. Like a puppy, his eyes brightened at the sight of you as he obediently followed.

“You’ll catch a cold,” You ridiculed with a worried frown.

After finding a towel, you stepped in between his legs. Carefully, you began to dry his damp hair, marveling at the way his hair curled up after a shower. You rubbed his scalp, making your way around and behind his ears. When you peeked at his expression, you stifled a laugh at the way he basically fell asleep under your touch.

Once you deemed his hair dry enough, you were about to walk away but instead, he abruptly stood up, swaying slightly. And then he fell forward, pulling you into a warm embrace.

You smiled fondly. “Tired?”

It seems that when Hyunjae was tired, he never answered any of your questions, funnily enough. A lot of his answers were just “I missed you” or a small hum. But this… this answer was different. It was spoken so quietly, so softly yet it perfectly resonated through your ears.

“I love you.”

Before you could even say anything or really do anything, he was reluctantly pulling away and heading to the bedroom. Your lips parted as your eyes fixated on absolutely nothing. Just– space. Your whole body had gone rigid as you simply stood there, processing his words. You couldn’t even blink.

Best friends… say that too, don’t they?

It started to become a pattern for the whole first week of his new job. When he was actually fully awake, he told you that the work was demanding yet he never looked so happy and content. Sometimes, you wondered what his past work was like, but you never prodded.

But, because the work was just so demanding, every single day, from Monday to Friday, he came home exhausted. And any person would expect him to just head straight for bed. But like you said, it was a pattern, a usual thing, that he would cling on to you. Apparently, something had shifted in him. Originally, when you saw him exhausted, he would become closed off. But after… that night, he acted almost intoxicated. Not on a drink. But simply off being tired.

You found it endearing actually. His voice was always quieter and he often stumbled over his words this way. His eyes were dazed and soft on yours and he also became ten times heavier as he liked to lay all of his weight on you when he pulled you into a hug. He constantly just seemed to be in a completely different mindset–one that was very… loving and… yeah– different.

He liked to say things too. Slurred and quiet, but he still very clearly said them. You could never figure out if he meant them or if he was just tired and rambling things for the fun of it.

He said “I misssed you” a lot. Occasionally, he would blurt out that you looked pretty or beautiful. Or, it would be a small “hi” accompanied by a shy smile. Sometimes, if he was too tired to say much, he would just giggle over nothing in particular. But… there was one specific phrase that he would say out of the blue.

“I love you.”

That one always left you perplexed. It could be a… platonic thing to say, right? Where did the word “love” come from? You didn’t think much of it, but you couldn’t help but feel some sort of spark of light in the very depths of your heart.

It was weird, really. An out-of-this-world, alien-like thing for a best friend to say. The words I, love, and you arranged in that particular order were never syllables Hyunjae ever let fall from his lips. He never spent any particular ounce of breath to say them.

Yet now he did.

For some odd reason.

But again, he was just tired. Surely.

And just like before, the pattern started all over again. The week was coming to a close so maybe you wouldn’t hear those words again after this. But you didn’t really mind altogether. With a tired sigh, you walked out of the room, now changed out of your work clothes and into something more comfortable.

Right on cue, the main door was unlocking, and once again, the pattern began to unweave itself. He would walk in, with the occasional misstep and stumble. And like usual, he looked tired. Though, you envied his ability to still look… attractive. And then he would look up, search for a particular someone, and do that stupidly lazy smile–the one where his eyes weren’t focused on anything but you.

“What are you doing here?” He giggled–he giggled now, apparently.

You eyed him, completely apathetic. “You let me stay here temporarily, remember?”

He blinked at you with an adorable pout. And then he nodded. “You’re right.” He smiled. “Aren’t you smart?” He pinched your cheek.

Scowling, you wrestled his hands off. And for the first time this week, you finally decided to question his bizarre behavior.

“Why are you acting like this?” You whined, holding him up by his arms so he wouldn’t fall over you like he had done the day before.

“Because I missed you,” He grumbled, his eyes struggling to stay open. “Now let me–”

“Agh,” You groaned. But still, your hands fell to your sides as you let him wrap his arms around your torso, bringing you close to his chest. Whatever made him happy, was your motive. And totally not, I secretly enjoy this.

It was quiet for a few moments, just the sound of his slow breathing against your earlobe. For a minute, you worried that he had fallen asleep already, but he spoke again.

“Have I mentioned how uncomfortable this suit is?” He mumbled. “It’s very hot and–”

You didn’t even say anything. With a sigh–one that wasn’t particularly annoyed, but more… doting–you stepped away. He stared at you in both drowsiness and slight confusion, but his eyes slowly widened once he realized that you were taking off the jacket for him. Gently, you pulled it off his shoulders and down his arms, your eyebrows slightly furrowed in concentration.

He was quiet, simply watching as your fingers grasped his tie, unloosening it with a sharp pull, causing him to lurch forward, his lips startlingly close to yours.

“Interesting,” He teasingly remarked, but his voice was still slurred.

“Shut up,” You snapped yet there was no malice behind your tone.

Your hands then came up to his collar, unbuttoning the first few buttons to reveal slightly past his collarbones which… you’ve already accidentally witnessed before. With a friendly pat on his shoulder, you deemed him undressed enough. He slowly turned his gaze to you and your breath hitched at the sight– his work attire now loose with his hair slightly messy… ah. Not to mention, his tilted head and sleepy expression that only made things worse.

Clearing your throat, feeling your cheeks burn, you scrambled off somewhere to shove a change of clothes into his hands and left abruptly, your heart thumping. Soon enough–you didn’t know when because you were busy contemplating all of your feelings and the meaning of life–he walked into the bedroom. Undoing the made bed, you motioned him to climb in. Obediently, he followed and you pulled the blankets over him.

“Y/n,” He muttered, grasping your wrist before you could walk away.

“Hm?”

“...love you,” He whispered.

Again, he was just rambling. He was just saying things. He had stumbled over his words and his voice was quiet, so that meant that he didn’t mean it. He didn’t mean any of it. It was all fake–

“I love you,” He repeated—clearer, louder this time without an inch of hesitation. And this time, he was looking straight up at you, his cheeks slightly pink, flushed.

Maybe it was more real than you had thought.

The first week was over, meaning Hyunjae was more situated at work and most importantly, less exhausted. On the first day of his new, non-intoxicated-on-fatigue persona, he had simply greeted you and strolled past. You wouldn’t admit it fully to him but that simple interaction that did better fit what you guys were–best friends–left you feeling empty inside.

But it was fine. It was just a one-week thing.

Until it wasn’t.

The next day, the pattern appeared again, but it wasn’t… like before.

He was fully awake this time yet he still–

“Hyunjae?” You stammered. The arms wrapped around your waist tightened further as he stood behind you, hooking his chin over your shoulder, and breathing out a low sigh. And now that he was newly… conscious, he did more. His hands began to wander over you in soothing shapes and he pressed his chest further against your back.

“Just stay here with me.”

You could see his soft smile in the corner of your eye. With a bothered huff, you glanced back at him, only for you to inhale sharply at how close he actually was and how… nice his cologne smelt. Oh, and his hands were still wandering.

“I thought you only acted like this when you’re tired?”

He shook his head, shifting even closer, his warmth encompassing you comfortingly.

“Do you want to know something about me?”

“I know a lot about you,” You joked.

But he was quiet, a serious silence befalling the two of you. You gulped and whispered a small “what is it?”

You could hear him huff out in amusement, his hands never failing to leave your waist. “While I was away–when I was at my lowest–I thought of someone all those years.”

And for some reason, you knew exactly what the answer was.

But still, your voice tremored. “Who?”

A squeeze on your waist.

“You.”

Shutting your eyes, you breathed out a shaky sigh and looked down to where he was still hugging you from behind. Your heart was thumping and you were sure he could hear you. And even if he could make out the pounding, he never budged once. Not once did he stop tightening his arms around you and not once did he cease to bury his nose somewhere into your skin, leaving shivers down your spine.

With your heartbeat practically reaching your ears, you nudged him and turned around so that now, you were facing him. Without his dazed, sleepy look, it was just his soft eyes and the slightest tug of his lips, an endeared smile. Without his exhaustion that often left him sluggish, it was just his firm, stronger arms that held you so easily.

“Hyunjae,” You whispered.

“Sweetheart,” He replied, his voice gentle and content. And before, you wouldn’t have paid a single ounce of attention to that nickname because it just seemed like how best friends would fool around. But now… things were different and you weren’t sure how exactly. And so the name sweetheart now left your cheeks flushing.

You swallowed thickly, your breath shortening. “Do you know how much you confuse me?”

His smile only grew. “Elaborate on that.” A pause. “Sweetheart.”

You sighed, biting your lip with mortification. “That. The nickname.”

“Sweetheart? You never said you didn’t like it, I can stop if you want—“

“Don’t!” You rushed to say. You blushed more once you realized he was teasing you again, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Not just the nickname. Everything.”

“Like what?” He stepped closer if that was even possible.

You gazed up at him and you were sure you looked frustrated right now, judging by his fond smile. He always said you looked cute when mad.

“You say that you miss me all the time.”

“Because I do.” He dipped his head lower to look at you with those foolish, puppy-like eyes. “I think of you whenever I’m at work.”

“But,” You exhaled shakily. “Do you realize that you say something else?”

You were sure he wasn’t aware. He didn’t seem to be in the right state of mind whenever he was exhausted. So maybe, he would just stare at you in utter confusion, deny it, and this whole… feeling fiasco would be done and dealt with. But then—

“That I love you?”

Your lips parted in surprise and you peered up at him, wondering if he was just taking a wild guess. But no, the soft, genuine look on his face said it all.

“You… knew?” You stuttered.

“Of course I did,” He chuckled softly. “And I meant every single one.”

Eyebrows furrowing, you stepped backward from shock. As you avoided his eyes, you missed the nervousness and the unsureness that flitted across his face. But, just that one step away left chills down your body–as if being away from Hyunjae and his embrace wasn’t even natural anymore.

And so you stepped forward again. Immediately, you could hear a low sigh of relief escape Hyunjae’s lips and feel his hands snake back around your waist protectively. You weren’t sure what expression was on his face though, as you were very adamant on staring directly at his tie–his chest. You knew that he could still see your reddening cheeks, but you still preferred not to look him in the eye.

“That,” He said quietly. “You’re also quite confusing too.”

“Wh-what?”

“Stepping away and stepping back,” He spoke softly. “Looking me in the eye but refusing to when I say that I love you.” One of his hands left your waist to gently guide your chin up. “So look at me now.”

“I…” You trailed off, feeling yourself go weak just from his soft, loving gaze.

“And one more thing.” He tilted his head teasingly.

A pause. A great moment of silence.

“You don’t say it but you show it.”

“Hyunjae,” You breathed out, your heart beating like a loud, intense drum.

“I wasn’t completely unaware.” He smirked. His hand had already left your chin and found its place back to your waist, yet you found yourself staring straight into his dark eyes, stuck in a trance. “I know that you dried my hair with a towel–that you even undressed me. I know that you took care of me.”

You did do that all on your own accord, simply because you thought that you were being a perfectly good friend. But now that you thought about it–you didn’t have to. You could have easily pushed him off, and told him to do everything on his own but you didn’t. And it was all because you–

“So tell me then,” He whispered, his voice quiet–only for you to hear, almost like he wanted you all to himself. “What are we?”

You held your breath, your cheeks growing hot. Your hands rested on his chest and you could feel his heart pound, exactly like yours. He felt the same, you realized. With a shaky sigh, you gazed up at him.

“What do you want us to be?”

He hummed, a soft smile on his lips. “What do I want?”

He slightly reworded your question and you wondered why. But you nodded, your eyes studying his features. His handsome features. They were sharp when you had met him in that hallway. But his keen eyes, the angle of his eyebrows, his perpetual frown–they were just soft, soft on you. No longer was there a frown, but just an affectionate smile.

“What do you want?” You repeated his question, your voice hushed to a whisper.

He leaned in, his gaze warm and gentle, his eyes wandering over each and every detail of your face.

“I want to love you.”

You had expected to inhale sharply, gasp maybe–but no. Because everything made sense to you now. His kind words, his soft and fleeting touches across your body, it all pointed to one thing. And so, instead, you smiled shyly.

“Then love me.”

And just like that, his grip on your hips tightened and he turned you around so that your back was facing the door. He was walking you backward until you felt the hard surface against your shoulder blades and he was leaning down, close enough that if he inched further, he would be kissing you. But he didn’t–not yet.

“May I?” He muttered, looking over you with slight concern.

You nodded, embarrassingly with a bit too eagerness. He laughed softly and then he was fitting his lips against yours as your eyes fluttered closed. The press of it was gentle and tender as he tilted your chin up and angled himself so that it was more comfortable. The kiss was unlike any that you’ve experienced before. It was like the tension that had built up before had completely broken down, as you allowed yourself to just fall.

Fall, physically, almost because you felt your knees go weak, with only the door behind you to hold you up. But his hand traveled back down to your waist, hooking you in against his body, keeping you steady as he muffled a groan against your lips. You couldn’t hear anything but his breathing and the thumping of your own heart.

All you could think of was him–how he could so easily change from rough to soft, how he could push forward so quickly but pull away so easily to allow you a gasp of breath, and how he could make your heart pound yet lull it into a steady rhythm of love. He kissed like he could devour you, but if you decided to peek an eye open, you would see his adorably furrowed eyebrows and his flushed cheeks, showing that he wasn’t anything like that.

He was just a man who needed a bit of a sweetener in his life.

With a quiet noise, he pulled away. Immediately, his eyes searched over your features, making sure that you were okay and that he didn’t do too much. But, when you gave him a smile, your eyes flitting nervously, he grinned and leaned in to grant you another soft kiss.

“How long?” You laughed shyly.

“I came to the realization when you tried to cheer me up whenever I was tired. But I think I’ve already felt this way for a while.” He replied. He pinched your cheek again. “All those dates and extra care that you gave me…very cute thing to do.”

Your eyes went wide. “You… noticed?”

“I notice a lot of things, sweetheart,” He teased. “Like how you’re grabbing onto my suit to pull me into a kiss right now.”

“O-oh,” You stammered, letting go of his crumpled collar. “I didn’t realize I–”

He shook his head and before you could finish your sentence, he was cupping your cheek–something that he’s never done before–and guiding you back to his lips. And this time, his tongue swiped against your lip, making you gasp quietly.

“You taste like candy.” His gaze fixated on your lips.

“I didn’t know you could…” You had to stop for a second to catch your breath. And it wasn’t just because of his exceptional kissing, but it was the beat of your heart, of all of your love. “...you could kiss like that.”

“What can I say?” He tilted his head with a teasing look. “I guess I have a sweet tooth.”

“Trust me on this,” Younghoon whined. “I followed the instructions to the very dot. They’ll taste good. Promise.”

You eyed him skeptically but still, you picked up one of the cookies that he had baked. They looked a little… off, but it should be fine. Taking a bite, you took note of the odd texture, and then the taste started to register on your tongue.

You coughed. You choked. And then you threw the cookie back on the plate.

“Bitter,” You gagged. “It’s so bitter.”

“What?” He cried. “Are you kidding me–”

Your eyes lit up once you remembered your boyfriend who was sitting next to you on the couch. He was busy on his computer, doing some sort of work report but you ignored that, turning to him and grasping his collar tightly. You pulled him in, pressing your lips to his, causing him to let out a small “mmph” in surprise.

But almost instantly, he turned into jelly from your touch, a smile growing on his lips as his eyes fluttered close. He had tried to deepen it desperately but you pulled away shortly after, leaving him to chase after your lips adorably.

Younghoon gawked. “I’m right here.”

“So?” You shrugged, smiling innocently. “At least he tastes sweet.”

“Oh my god,” Younghoon mumbled, getting up to throw the cookies into the garbage can.

Meanwhile, Hyunjae was staring at you in a daze, his cheeks flushed. But, he quickly recovered and he was quick to pounce on you, pressing kisses all over you once Younghoon had left.

“A warning next time would be great.”

He was now hovering over you on the couch, caging you under his arms and his computer long forgotten. The position left you flushing but it was also the perfect one to knee him in the stomach.

He winced in pain. "What was that for?"

"A warning, you said," You mocked. "When literally yesterday you kissed me up against a wall in your own workplace."

"That's an exception." He smirked. "You liked it, didn't you?"

"I..." You blushed, remembering the way he had kissed you so fervently, dressed in that suit and tie, the thrill of getting caught still running through your veins. "It was alright."

"Sure, sweetheart," He whispered in a teasing tone. He looked annoying handsome like this, with that amused smile that contrasted his soft, loving gaze. "Then I'll make sure you like this one."

Oh, how you despised him.

And then his lips were on yours again, swallowing up any shy noises that threatened to escape you. But just before he did, he had whispered three quiet words against your lips.

"I love you."

And how you loved him too.

#deoboyznet #yumi 💞 hyunjae #the boyz imagines #the boyz fluff #tbz fluff #tbz imagines #the boyz reactions #the boyz x reader #tbz x reader #the boyz scenarios #hyunjae fluff #hyunjae x reader #requests 💞#fics 💞

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xerith-42 · 4 months

Note

*bats my eyes at you* spare some angsty headcanons perhaps?

Ask and you shall receive

Laurance is triggered by the smell of burning hair. Bro had hair down to his waist and then went into literal hell, I imagine so much of it caught on fire or was maybe even deliberately burnt, and it's such a distinct smell. It rarely happens, but if a stray spark from the fire accidentally catches on Cadenza's hair Laurance kind of freaks out a little. Fight or flight kicks in but he freezes but he also fights but he's also frozen and that smell is so awful he literally wants to rip his own skin off.

Katelyn doesn't ever think she'll love again. It's why she's so put off by Travis' advances, she just doesn't think it's a possibility. Every time she thinks about love she thinks about Jeffory. Seeing him on the island, even if it was an imp, did not help matters.

Kenmur still loves Sasha. He will always love Sasha. There is no amount of time that will stop him from loving her. Even if he also loves Emmalyn more than life itself, even if he's dedicated himself to his wife and his studies, there's still always that part of him that will answer to Sasha. Whenever she's around he can feel himself being pulled towards her just from the sound of her voice.

Zianna hates the sound of silence. So many years completely alone in such a huge estate. By the time Zane and Garroth disappeared, she was effectively estranged from her husband, only staying so they can maintain this cover of the Lord and Lady of O'Khasis. But their home is massive, designed for an entire family and then some. Even after Vylad and Garroth "died", Zane kept the house busy and often had Jury members present. The hollow emptiness of her home is nearly maddening for the poor woman.

The only reason Zianna never left is because she still held out hope for all of her sons. Zianna held out hope that any one of them would come stumbling in through the front door, likely beaten and bloody, and she would be able to take them into her arms and welcome them home.

This could very well turn into it's own post but here's a few small relic angst headcanons. Aph starts to lose her sense of self because sometimes she'll talk and it won't sound like her. They have mostly similar speech patterns, and she says things she would normally say, but it sounds like someone else, and she can never put her finger on it. Others notice, but nobody can quite figure out what's wrong with it. Until Zoey hears it and says it sounds familiar.

Travis usually likes to be a bit of a know-it-all, having a lot of random bits of trivia he's just learned from years of having nothing to do but entertain himself alone in a cabin, but sometimes the facts he gives are on subjects he never studied. He knows it's because of Enki's relic and he can't do anything about it. He hates how monotone his voice sounds whenever it happens, like he isn't even happy to know this information.

I'm sorry but we cannot gloss over how much turmoil Garroth would be over getting Esmunds relic after Zane already had it. He lies awake at night wondering what the three of them have in common, what he and Zane have in common at all. How could the protector bond with such a destructive awful man? How much is Garroth really like his brother? Can he even say he isn't like his brother if they were able to bond with the same relic?

Zoey may not have personally known all the previous relic holders, but she saw them. She was ten when Irene was walking among the mortals. Sometimes when she looks at her friends she sees... someone else. Someone so familiar, so similar to them, but the details aren't right. She can't tell if this is an effect of the relics or her own dwindling sanity/life force after giving up her immortality.

And entirely for myself because I will keep rewriting Aaron in my posts, Aaron feels such tremendous guilt like all the time. The survivors guilt has consumed everything he is, even the relationship that's supposed to be healing it. All he can think about is how he let everyone down, when he was supposed to lead them. Aaron wears the bandana not because he's hiding his identity, but to hide the permanently miserable look in his eyes.

#text post #minecraft diaries #laurance zvahl #minecraft diaries laurance #garroth ro'meave #mcd headcanons #mcd garroth #aphblr #mcd #aphmau minecraft diaries #travis valkrum #mcd travis #mcd zoey #zianna ro'meave #mcd kenmur #mcd emmalyn #mcd katelyn

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hey-august · 2 months

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I'm comin' apart at the seams | (Buggy x OC)

Ahhhhh, this is a birthday gift for @rorywritesjunk 🎁 I hope you like it even though it's not birthday-themed.

I chose Sunny because she's just the sweetest and I thought she'd fit this story well. I'm sure she's ooc, but I hope I captured her spirit. 🩷

Word count: ~1.8k

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, buggy x OC, buggy x sunny!!, fem OC, mentions of PIV sex, dadbod buggy

(Presumptive tag for @paperclippedmime since you were curious about the apples 👀)

Title from "Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes" by Fall Out Boy

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Something was wrong. Something has been wrong. And Buggy wasn’t sure how much longer he could hide it from Sunny. It started small. An extra shimmy to pull on his pants. A deep exhale to reach the usual notch on his belt. Unbuttoning his pants after a big meal. Then his shirts felt a little snug. Pulling on the sleeves and the bottom hem would help, but only for so long. Soon, he couldn’t tighten his belt to the same spot. The problem was growing.

Sunny made such tasty food, it was hard for Buggy to decline. Not only was the pirate addicted to his wife’s cooking, but to the smile she’d bestow when he complimented her skills. Treats came with a kiss on the cheek. Snacks were ready when his stomach grumbled. She’d set out a pastry with his morning coffee. Sunny always knew what Buggy was in the mood for before he knew. And it was always delicious.

Buggy stared at himself in the full length mirror, twisting and turning to assess the full extent of his indulgences. Was his rear always that round? Was the belly pooch new? He poked his stomach, wondering what was from years of yeasty beer and rum and what was from married life. Regardless of where the excess came from, Buggy was resolved to get rid of it before Sunny noticed.

He started by waking up before her. As the sun started to crest the horizon, Buggy would slip out of bed bit by bit and limb by limb. It was tedious, but the slow retreat kept the bed from shifting too much and allowed Sunny to stay wrapped in sleep. Once out of bed, Buggy would jog around the deck with a deep scowl on his face - a warning that anyone else awake at this hour should keep their mouth shut. He’d keep an eye on the sun’s journey and sneak back into the room just in time for Sunny to roll over and assume her husband had also just woken up and gotten out of bed.

The morning excursions weren’t enough, though, and Buggy was worried that Sunny would notice. That she would think Buggy is letting himself go. That she could do better than some chubby clown. The ache from that possible future pushed the pirate to do something he never dreamed of doing - turning down some of Sunny’s treats. The morning pastry would be ripped half to share with Sunny, even when it was his favorite one dusted in powdered sugar. (He’d still lick the sugar off his fingers, though.) Buggy would only take a bite of what Sunny would offer him and go on a tangent about how it was too good and he wanted to save space to eat it later.

Buggy might have gotten away with it all if it wasn’t for the apples. The goddamn apples.

Sunny stared at the uneaten food left on Buggy’s desk. It was a small plate with one of his favorite snacks - apple slices and peanut butter. And he didn’t take a single bite. Sunny knew her husband usually got hungry around this time of day. He hadn’t been eating well recently, so she made it look extra enticing. She peeled some of the bright red skin, leaving behind little shapes that made the slices look like bunnies. They were placed in a circle, facing the spoonful of peanut butter smeared on the center of the plate. What were once happy grazing bunnies were now oxidized bits of fruit surrounding an oily lump of ground nuts.

Footsteps entered the room behind her and Sunny turned to see Buggy. All the emotions and thoughts swirling through her burst out in one confused and upset question.

“Do you not like me anymore?”

Sunny usually wasn’t the one to carry the self-doubt in this relationship. She held the other end of that rope, doting on Buggy and reminding him of her love. But weeks of her husband sneaking away every morning, turning down the food she made him, not wanting to bathe with her, and pulling away when all she wanted was a hug had worn her down. Sunny felt raw and exposed. She felt like a forgotten apple slice.

The question wasn’t answered with words, but an embrace. Buggy wrapped his arms around her, placed a hand on the back of her head, and held her close. This was what Sunny would do whenever Buggy spouted similar fears.

“Why would you ever think that?” He asked her the same question she asked him.

“You didn’t eat your snack, Buggy.”

“I just forgot about it.” Buggy followed the fib by popping a soggy apple bunny in his mouth. “That can’t be the only reason, is it?”

Sunny shook her head against his chest, listening to the conflicted voices in her head. One told her to stop now and just enjoy the moment and enjoy the hug. The other told her that this wasn’t enough. Deciding both were right, Sunny wrapped her arms around Buggy’s waist and squeezed. She felt Buggy stiffen and try to pull away, but she held him tighter until her arms began to burn with the effort.

“No, not yet. I feel like you’ve been avoiding me,” Sunny finally confessed against his chest.

Buggy pried himself from Sunny’s hold before responding. “Never! I always want to be near you. In fact, you’re the one that banned me from the kitchen that one time.”

“You sneak out of bed early every morning.” Sunny felt a little bit of satisfaction watching the color drain from the unpainted parts of his face. “Babe, you're everywhere when you sleep. We're always touching, of course I’m going to notice when you leave, no matter how clever you think you’re being.”

Buggy opened his mouth to respond, but Sunny grabbed his hands and kept going. “Honestly, I don’t mind if you have secrets. You should have your own things, Buggy, but this feels like it involves me. Is there anything that I should know?”

“I don’t want you to leave me. I don’t want you to realize that I’m not good enough for you and then you go and find a better, more sexy pirate husband, who dresses well and wears glasses and his clothes fit…” The words exploded out of Buggy’s mouth, squeezed by the anxiety wrapped around him. He tugged at the stomach of his shirt, trying to alleviate some of the constricting feeling.

The words continued even when Sunny tried to stop them with her lips. The flow only ceased when Sunny held his face in her hands, pulling his gaze to her own.

“Buggy, I already have a sexy pirate husband. I don’t want a different one.”

“R-really? Even if…?”

“Even if what? I love you as you are.” Sunny’s words were just like her. Warm, comforting, and honest. Lingering doubts that couldn’t be eased away with words, were soothed with actions later that evening.

Buggy sat on the edge of his desk with Sunny’s fingers tangled in his hair. Tugging his head back, she trailed kisses down his neck. Airy groans buzzed under her lips until she reached the collar of his shirt. Rather than waiting for him to disrobe, Sunny kept going. Running her hands along his soft stomach, through the hair on his chest, and back down to the hem of the shirt so she could pull it off.

Any protests from Buggy were kept at bay with more kisses and nips, anything to keep his mouth occupied with something other than words. Once the shirt was off, the kisses traveled down to adorn his chest and decorate the stomach he still felt sensitive about. Sunny could feel the tension in his body, the conflict of whether or not he should suck in his gut, and the desire to enjoy the moment.

Sweet words and descriptions of what lay in store for the evening were mumbled against Buggy’s body. How she likes holding his hips while sucking him off, that she loves to watch how his body moves when she’s bouncing on top of him, the way she feels so deliciously overpowered when he’s thrusting into her from behind and his heaviness presses her into the mattress. Again, words turned into actions, ones that had Buggy’s eyes rolling into the back of his head and Sunny crying his name throughout the night.

Buggy slept in the next morning. It was the first time in a long while and it felt good. Rolling over in bed, the pirate was surprised to see Sunny already awake and busy with a project. She was sewing something. Her skilled movements brought a lazy smile to Buggy’s face as he watched his wife.

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

“I think you mean sexy, pirate husband,” Buggy said in a low morning voice, earning a chuckle in response. “Whatcha doing?”

“I put a bit of elastic in your pants so they’re more comfortable. They’ll fit the same, just with a bit more stretch, see?” She held them up and demonstrated.

Feeling a quiver in his lip, Buggy wiggled closer to Sunny so he could wrap her in his arms and press his face into her abdomen. She placed a hand on his head and listened to the words he spoke against her body. They were muffled, but Sunny knew what he was saying.

---

Sunny joined Buggy on his morning jog exactly one time. Not because she didn’t enjoy it - quite the opposite, actually - but because she was unprepared. She wasn’t ready for what the pirate captain’s workout entailed.

His outfit was the first surprise. Tube socks, shorts that showed a teasing amount of thigh, a sleeveless shirt, a high ponytail, and a sweatband. Sunny didn’t even know he had some of these articles of clothing, let alone that he'd be so comfortable in them. The outfit was a gift that kept giving. The shorts crept up his legs as he moved. The top kept his shoulders and arms on display. Even though the sweatband was doing its job, sometimes Buggy would pull his shirt up and wipe the moisture from his face, giving Sunny a full view of his glistening body.

And then there were the exercises Buggy did. In addition to the jogging, he added in a few other sets. Lunges up the stairs that worked his glutes. Push-ups that flexed his arms and came with tantalizing grunts. And the worst (or was it the best) was climbing the ship’s rigging. He moved with the skill and instinct that comes from a life at sea. And it was a turn on. When Buggy got back on the deck, he pulled up his shirt to wipe his face, yet again, and Sunny had to pull him below deck for a different kind of workout.

🎂🎁🤡

#buggy the clown #sunny x buggy #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy

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inlovewithquestionablecharacters · 1 year

Text

Xavier Thorpe X Reader: Unrequited love

Warning: None but this is just angsty. There is a happy ending but not with Xavier.

Being able to know what other people were feeling had its perks. It made it easy to counsel those around you. You never had to wonder the effects you had on others since you knew exactly how they felt to be around you. There was a downside to it though. Knowing others emotions meant you had to deal with the pain of feeling someone you like fall for someone else.

You had been at Nevermore for a couple of years and in that time you’d made quite a selection of friends but one of them stood out from the rest. Xavier Thorpe was one of your closest friends and unfortunately for you the boy whose fingers had wound themselves around your heart. No one knew about your crush on Xavier including the boy himself. The reason for this was that he’d never displayed any kind of loving emotions while you were around him. You were stuck inside the friend zone and to make matters worse you knew for a fact that you had no chance whatsoever.

You’d tried to get over him for a long time but nothing seemed to work. When he started to date Bianca it felt like your heart had been ripped from your chest. Fortunately you hid your pain well. And since no one in school had abilities like yours no one questioned you about it. Xaviers relationship caused you to distance yourself a bit from him, the pain being too overwhelming to handle constantly.

Then out of a sudden they broke up and who did Xavier come running to? You of course. You had been best friends after all. And you greeted him with open arms. He talked about his fears in the relationship and you listened to him vent for hours. Even though the circumstances weren’t the best you were glad to have him back, even if only as a friend. Things seemed to change after the break up. You’d often find yourself wondering if something was wrong with your readings. Xavier had gotten more touchy with you and you swore that some of his affirmations had taken a more flirty tone. Despite that, your abilities still read his emotions around you as mainly happy and nothing more. That didn't stop you from clinging to hope however.

That is until she arrived.

Wednesday Addams was a strange person. For the first time since you developed your powers you’d found someone you couldn't read. No matter how hard you tried you sensed no emotions from Wednesday's unusually pale frame. It made you wonder if perhaps she was some sort of zombie. You had nothing against Wednesday. She made no difference in your life. You weren’t looking for new friends and she didn’t seem to be either so it worked.

Then suddenly things went off the rails.

Xavier started gravitating towards Wednesday like some sort of lost puppy. You’d search for him around school and often find him glancing at the girl from afar. Once you even managed to catch him drawing a portrait of her in his sketchbook. The moment you had appeared he rushed to hide the image. The flirty comments stopped and Xavier stopped hanging out with you in his free time. You knew it wasn’t her fault but you’d started to develop a small hatred for Wednesday. The last straw was the Rave’n dance.

You didn’t expect Xavier to invite you but it still stung when you found out Wednesday had invited him. But what hurt the most was arriving at the dance and seeing him with Bianca. He hadn’t told you that his plans with Wednesday hadn’t worked out and instead of asking you, his supposed best friend, to go with him he preferred to go with his Ex. You tried to tune him out, deciding to dance with Enid instead. Suddenly Wednesday had appeared at the party accompanied by none other than Tyler Galpin. Your eyes snapped in Xaviers direction, the feeling of anger that surrounded him hitting you immediately. You watched Wednesday on the dance floor and you had to admit she had moves. Your feet started to hurt so you decided to take a break. You made your way to Xavier's table greeting both him and Bianca before sitting down.

“Can I talk to you really quick?”

“Oh sure.”

You followed Xavier to a corner wondering what he needed to talk about.

“I need a favor.”

“Okay. What favor?”

“I need you to read Wednesday for me. I’m going to talk to her and I want you to tell me what she feels.”

You started up at Xavier, a knot forming in your stomach. He took your silence for acceptance, giving you a nod before turning around.

“Come on.”

“No.”

“What?”

“Honestly Xavier, screw you. You ditch me for Bianca and then when you two are done you come running back to me only to ditch me again for Wednesday. So no, I'm not gonna read shit for you.”

With that you stormed out leaving Xavier behind. You found a corner and sat down. You’d promised yourself not to cry but the tears seemed to have a mind of their own. You hugged your legs, placing your head on your knees and letting every bit of anger out through your tears.

“What are you doing?”

Your head snapped up at the monotone words, your eyes falling on Wednesday. Great, just what you needed.

“What does it look like I'm doing?”

“Considering your makeup is all smudged I'd say crying.”

“That was a rhetorical question.”

Wednesday watched you for a moment.

“Why are you crying?”

“Boys are stupid.”

“Yes they are. But what does that have to do with it?”

“I liked a boy and he doesn't feel the same way. Plus he acted like a total jerk.”

“Want me to stab him for you?”

You looked up at Wednesday with wide eyes. A small smirk formed on her lips and for the first time you were able to read her. She was happy because she scared you. What was wrong with this girl?

“I was kidding. Unless you want me to.”

“No it's alright. Thanks for the offer though.”

You got up from your spot, running your hands over your clothes to smoothen them before whipping under your eyes. You looked up at Wednesday.

“You know you’re lucky.”

“Why’s that?”

“You don't care about what anyone thinks of you. It must be liberating.”

“Honestly sometimes I wish I cared more.”

A small frown appeared on her face as she said it and it made you wonder if she just acted like she didn't care to avoid getting hurt. It must be hard to pretend something like that. You decided you weren’t going to let Xavier ruin your night.

“Hey, you think you could teach me some of your moves?”

Wednesday glanced at you and nodded. The two of you made your way back to the dance.

“Just to be clear, I'm not looking for friends.”

“Yeah you’ve made that pretty clear. But it’s cool we can just be two people enjoying a dance together. If you’re okay with that.”

“Yes, that sounds…pleasant.”

You gave Wednesday a smile. Which she didn’t return but you didn't take it to heart. That was just the way she was and you could learn to live with that. You heard someone call out your name. Enid came running into view, her bubbly smile filling you with a warm feeling of happiness.

“There you two are! I was looking for-”

Enid noticed the slight stain under your eyes.

“Oh are you okay?”

“I wasn’t but i'm better know.”

“Oh good.”

Enid pulled you into a hug.

“If you need anything I'm here for you.”

“Thanks Enid. Actually there is one thing you could do.”

The werewolf let go of you holding your shoulders as she looked at your face.

“Sure what is it?”

“Help me tear up the dance floor?”

“Of course!”

Enid grabbed onto your hand, a giggle leaving her lips as she led you to the dance floor. You turned to look as Wednesday, your hand shooting out in invitation. She glanced at it and despite not grabbing onto you she followed you and Enid to the dance floor. The three of you danced to the music happily. You didn't know where Xavier was and honestly you didn't care. You were having the time of your life. What a great end to the night. I mean what could possibly go wrong now? That’s when it started to rain blood.

#xavier thorpe #Wednesday #the addams family #Wednesday fanfic #wendnesday addams #wednesday series #addams fanfic #xavier thorpe x reader #enid sinclair

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irenicstars · 3 months

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ AFTER ALL !

pairing : sirius black x fem!reader

synopsis : twelve years after the first war had come to a close, an ex lover shows up at your door, bloody & in need of your help. not knowing what else to do, you agree to help him. but only for tonight. after that, you’ll go back to being strangers.

a/n : WOO my first post on this account ! i apologize for this plot line being a bit complex. it's also considerably difficult for me to explain, so i hope it's not too confusing for you guys

wc : 7k

You live in a small apartment. It's decorated very cozily and never fails to make you feel at home despite its lack in size. You live alone with your cat, Luna. In all, you live a quiet life, one with very few friends and little action. Sometimes you think it's pathetic. But when if it were to down to it, you know you wouldn't trade it for the world.

After all, a peaceful life is what you deserve. Especially considering how you spent your teenage years fighting in a war, losing all of your friends one by one. At the time, you hardly understood any of it. All you knew was that Voldemort needed to be stopped, and you wanted to help fight or that cause. So you did. But your friends would end up paying the price with their lives.

You shake your head, ridding your mind of the distasteful memories. It's been twelve years since then, but you still can't get over it all. Some nights you wake up in a cold sweat, blaming yourself for it all.

Luna nudges you with her body, rubbing against your calf with a gentle purr. You smile at her, crouching down to the floor to pick her up. You hold her close to your chest and run your hands down her spine with delicacy.

Before your train of thought was interrupted by horrid memories, you had been cooking yourself a serving of pasta.

You set Luna down on the counter and turn your attention back to the pot on your stove. The water is now boiling, ready for the noodles to be added. You reach into the cabinet above the sink, pulling the box out of your cupboard. However, just as you begin to rip the seal, there's a frantic knock at your door.

See, your next-door neighbor has three kids. They vary in age and you adore them all, feeling the need to show them affection to make up for their absent father. Their mom tries her best, but she's working all the time, and the children miss her constantly. Due to the lack of attention they receive, the three kids have developed a thirst for chaos. They like to knock on your door, then run away before you see them. You always know who it is, but don't have the heart to tell their mom or yell at them. They're just kids having fun, what's the harm? Plus, your friend group used to play the same exact kinds of pranks back when you were in school.

Crossing the kitchen, you take the box of pasta with you, not thinking that this altercation would last very long. You assumed you'd open the door to make the kids giggle, shake your head disapprovingly, then retreat back into your apartment. It would make them happy, and you weren't busy anyway.

However, when you open the door, you realize your assumption had been horribly incorrect. The hallway isn't empty. There aren't any children hiding behind the corner. Instead, a heavily fatigued man leans against your doorframe.

He's pushing all of his body weight into the wood, seeming to have very little strength left. You glance down at his torso and quickly recognize the issue. He's very badly injured. Both of his hands are pressed against his stomach — just below his ribcage. Trails of blood are seeping through his fingers, staining his skin with crimson.

The sight causes you to drop the box of pasta. It hits the floor with a clatter, uncooked noodles spread across the shiny wood flooring. But it's not the gore that shocks you, it's the person who bores it.

You recognize the man immediately, allowing a frown to settle on your face. You cross your arms over your chest to appear defiant. But in reality, you're not defiant at all. You're only crossing them to hide the fact that your hands are trembling.

Sirius Black is supposed to be in Azkaban. He's supposed to be paying for the deaths of your guys's shared best friends. But right now, all of that pent of rage and pain that you've kept stored for so many years? It's all vanished within the blink of an eye. The only emotion you feel at the moment is pity.

"I'm sorry." He mutters weakly, with a hoarse voice paired with labored breathing. "I know ya prob'ly hate me right now, and you've ev'ry reason to. But I... there wasn't-"

Sirius normally speaks with such elegance, but now his words are slurring together pathetically. His voice is usually thick and deep, but now it’s hoarse and wavering. Despite having known him for the majority of your life, you hardly recognizes the man in front of you

“Don’t apologize, Sirius.” You tell him, trying your absolute hardest to keep your voice from shaking as well.

You uncross your arms and step forward to help him into your apartment. You let him use your body as a crutch as the two of you slowly make your way to the bathroom. He stumbles around with a limp to his step, making it hard to get anywhere. But you don't complain. You don't make any noise of disapproval as you struggle to open the bathroom door.

You sit him down on the closed toilet seat, cautiously removing yourself from under him. When he's successfully sitting on his down, Sirius tips his head back as an expression on pain takes hold of his features. You ignore this, distracting yourself by turning on the faucet to the tub, making sure the water doesn't run too hot or too cold. As the tub slowly fills with water, you turn back to face him.

“Here,” you gently move to take off his shirt. He does nothing to stop you, still in too much pain to even register what’s really going on. You slip it over his head, forcing him to let go of the wound for a moment. When he does, you catches sight of the damage and instantly regret doing so. It’s awful. A deep slash across his gut, right under the bones of his ribs. You could hardly see where the cut was through all the blood, but you could tell it was deep.

You're usually fine with blood. You never feel queasy or get sick, like the way you are now. But the fact that Sirius is the one bleeding is what makes this situation so much more unbearable.

You want to help him. You want to hug him. You want to kiss him. You want to tell him that everything will be okay. But at the same time, you don't. At the same time, you want to leave him in the hall to bleed out. You want to slam to the door in his face. You want to scream and shout and cry. As you take his shirt off, you remind yourself. This is what he deserves.

You're the only one who knows that he didn't kill Lily and James. So, that's not why you're angry. If you believed he was the traitor, there's no way you would have let him enjoy the bliss of Azkaban. You would have killed him with your bare hands. But you didn't, because you know the truth. You know it was Peter.

The reason you're so pissed at Sirius is because he had the audacity to show up at your doorstep after so long.

When he was falsely arrested, you clung to him as though he were going to disintegrate in your hands. You kissed him more passionately than you'd ever kissed him. You screamed and fought, telling him to take veritaserum, but he refused. He had the nerve to tell you it'd be okay.

While you were busy fighting to save his life, Sirius was still in so much shock that nothing even mattered to him. You needed him more than ever. You'd just lost your two best friends. And yet. Sirius stared down at you with a blank expression, pressed a gentle kiss to your head, and allowed himself to get locked up for twelve years. He left you all alone, fending for yourself. Simply because he saw his own grief as more important than yours.

So, while he was away, you started over. You moved a few towns over, bought yourself an apartment, adopted a kitten, got a decent job, and tried your hardest to ignore the amount of betrayal you'd just recently suffered.

You would often find yourself thinking of Sirius, locked up. And it hurt so much more knowing he was innocent.

"You're a bloody mess, Black." You tell him as the shirt discarded, thrown onto the bathroom floor in a heap of grime and blood. Sirius just smirks at you, his eyelids growing heavy with bloodloss.

"Bloody." He murmurs with an airy chuckle, shaking his chest. But he quickly stops laughing, seeming to be in too much pain to move very much of his torso. "Literally bloody. Get it?"

You shake your head, "of course I get it, dumbass."

He lets out a heavy exhale, trying not to laugh at his own joke.

As soon as the shirt was removed, Sirius had put his hand right back on the wound as soon as possible. He continues to press hard, trying to keep the gash closed. But you can see that the longer he sits here, and the more blood he looses, the weaker his grip is getting.

You ignore his pervious joke, knowing he had only made it out of deliriousness. You crouch down in front of your sink, opening the cabinet to search for your first aid kit. When you finally find it behind a few cleaning bottles, you knock over a ton of shit while pulling it out in a rush. Sirius is getting worse by the second. You don't have time to question your priorities. You need to hurry if you want to keep him alive — which you honestly still aren't too sure about. You like to hold a grudge.

"G'nna fix me up all nice 'n pretty, are ya?" He whispers, his voice too weak to be spoken very loudly. He watches you pull medicine and gauze out of the kit. "Trust ya more than anyone else in my life, Y/n. Or else I wouldn't've come 'ere."

You don't bother to even glance up at him as you continue to gather supplies. You try not to focus on what he's saying.

He's delirious, you think to yourself in a harsh tone of reminder, it's just the blood loss. And he will die from it if you don't fucking hurry.

Now with everything you needs in your hands, you turn to him. He’s still staring at you intently, seeming to watch and analyze every single move you make. The intensity of his gaze makes you feel uncomfortable, but you ignore it, burying the uneasiness under your determination to help him.

Before you have time to begin working on his side, you notice that the tub is now almost full. You quickly shut it off, knowing you need to at least close the wound before he can take a bath. The amount of dried blood on him is truly repulsing. He’ll need to be scrubbed.

Now with the faucet shut off, you pour a bit of medicine into a cotton pad, not giving warning before you remove his hands from the injury and press the pad to the open wound. Sirius's face twists up, suddenly feeling much more awake than he was before — which was your intention with her lack of warning.

He grunts out a string of curse words, teeth clenched tightly together. You don't say anything as you continue to clean the wound, working quickly and effectively. Sirius is no longer watching you. His eyes are squeezed tightly shut from the pain.

"Talk to me." He says out of nowhere. You still don't look at him, too focused on the fact that he's literally dying on your toilet. "Please, Y/nnie. It'll take my attention away fr'm the pain."

"Fine." You reply with a defeated sigh, still not looking away from his wound. "What do you want e to talk about? There's not much to say."

"It's been twelve years. Find s'mthing." He says, causing you to roll your eyes at his demanding tone of authority. It's rich coming from someone whose life is in your hands right now. Quite literally, might you add.

"Honestly, I have no idea what to say." You begin with a monotone voice. "My life has been incredibly boring and uneventful lately – not that I’m complaining. I mean, I love having my own apartment away from everyone and everything else. It’s lonely sometimes, sure. But that comes with growing up, y’know? Even if I didn’t decide to move away after the war, I’d still have been alone eventually. That’s just life.” You say, your fingers working carefully as you pull the skin together to press a bandage on top. “Before you showed up, I was making pasta. The pot is probably boiling over right now, but I’ll worry about that later. Hopefully, it won't start a fire. Ugh. I just hope Luna is out of the kitchen – that’s my cat, by the way. She’s only a year old. I love her to death, but god, is she stupid at times."

You continue to ramble on and on, pressing a layer of bandages to his side. They'll need to be replaced after the bath, but they'll do for now. Oh, this would be so much easier if they could just go to the hospital like normal people. But then the doctors would ask too many questions. Plus, Sirius is still a wanted man in the wizarding world.

As you speak, Sirius slowly becomes more and more awake. He's looking more like himself, watching you with gentle eyes. You're not stupid though. This is most likely only because you're his only distraction from the biting pain in his side. I mean, who wouldn't look at you like you're a goddess when you just saved his life. Well. Let's not get ahead. Sirius isn't saved yet.

"Did you seriously leave the stove on?" Sirius asks. His voice is still slurred, but he's sounding less like a dying cancer patient and more like the man you fell in love with. "With a boilin' pot of water 'n top?"

"Is that the only thing you took away from my entire speech?" You ask him with a laugh, adding one last bandage to his side.

"Yeah, pr'tty much." He answers matter of factly. "The only thin' that matters to me is your stupidity. Ya should know this by now."

"What about the fact that I have a child?" You ask, raising an eye brow as you stand up from the floor. As you say this, Sirius's entire face drops. His teasing, exhausted eyes turn pained and scared. His clenched jaw slacks just barely.

"You have a kid?" He asks, breathlessly.

"Yeah?" You say, wondering why it's such a big deal to him. "Luna. She's my cat, I told you. Geez, you really don't listen to me."

Sirius's shoulders instantly relax when you say this. And it clicks in your head quickly. He had thought you had an actual child. A baby. He was scared that you'd moved on without him. That you forgot about him completely. Suddenly, the terrified expression that he had is no longer funny. It makes your stomach twist, knowing you had unintentionally caused that much dismay to him.

Trying your hardest to ignore the previous misunderstanding, you straighten your back and gesture to the tub. "Ready for your bath, Black?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Are you going to watch me get naked?"

"Don't make it weird." You say with an eye roll. "First of all, I don't think you can get naked without my help at the moment. Second, it's nothing I haven't seen before."

Sirius shrugs, "fair enough."

He tries to stand up from the toilet seat, but fails miserably. His knees buckle under his weight, bringing him to the floor with a heavy thud. You manage to slow his fall, holding him under the arms, but it doesn't completely stop him from hitting the ground. He fell flat on his butt, thanks to you. If you hadn't caught him in time, his head may have split open on the side of the tub. Sirius sits up and sighs. He supports himself against the tub, leaning his back against it in exhaustion.

The look on his face brings a pain to your chest, making everything in your begin to hurt. You hate seeing him like this. He's not the same person he was a decade ago. He is a grown man, not a teenager anymore. But you have to keep reminding yourself that so are you. You're both in your thirties by now, growing into your bodies with ease — some more than others.

"I can't fucking do anything anymore." Sirius complains, holding his face in his hands. The blood from his palms get on his cheeks, but he doesn't seem to care. He'd clearly faced much worse in Azkaban.

"Let's just work on getting you in the bath." You tell him softly, pulling his hands away from his face to give him a warm smile. "After that, you can tell me everything that I've missed from your life. Or — if you would prefer — you can tell me nothing at all. I'll try my hardest to respect your decision either way."

It seems to take a lot out of him, but Sirius manages a nod. He agrees to tell you all the things you missed, but admits that it'll be hard for him. So he asks if he can leave out some difficult details. You agree.

Sirius stays completely silent as you undress him.

He can't even stand up, so you have to do most of the work. You lift his feel to slide his shoes off, you undo his belt, you do nearly everything while he sits there uselessly. And the fact that he's unable to help you is killing him more than the fatal wound in his side.

When he's ready, you hike him upward and the two of you manage to get him into to the bath. Sirius tries his hardest to stand up again, but it's to no avail. He slipped again, but this time you were both ready for it. And in the end, he got into the tub with little to no issue. You're going to have to dry the water off the floor that splashed out, but other than that? He's doing fairly well already.

"The water is perfect," Sirius mutters, "thank you."

A smile tugs at your lips. Even when you guys had been dating, words of thanks were rare to impossible to receive. Truth is, most of your guys's relationship was based off of the banter and tension between you two. Not much of it was spent the way couples spend their time in books.

You guys never went on dates. You never cuddled in the halls. You rarely even cuddled in private. But that was enough for you guys because when it came down to it, you'd die for each other in a heartbeat. And even after all these years, you know you still would. Even now.

"Don't get sappy with me, Black." You tell him pointedly, trying not to show how happy it made you. "It's weird."

He doesn't say anything to that, simply leaning back in the tub. He leans his head against the tiles behind him, his knees poking out of the water — which is now turning to a deep shade of pink. The water pressure is keeping the blood inside of his body for the most part. But the dried blood from his shirt and hands is mingling with the water gorily.

You grab a towel from the hook beside the sink, and place it on the floor. You kick it around a little bit, poorly drying up the spilt water. You decide to leave it on the floor to soak up what you didn't smear.

Then, you sit on the closed toilet seat and watch Sirius from afar. His eyes are closed with contentment, head facing the ceiling, showing off his throat and jawline. But you know he isn't sleeping, due to how he keeps shifting around uncomfortably. If he were to pass out, you don't think you'd be able to avoid a hospital much longer. You'd need to get help, regardless of the consequences.

"Do you think I could leave you by yourself for a few seconds?" You ask him, voice barely above a whisper. You don't want to disturb him, but you really need to check on the stove now that the adrenaline has settled down a tad.

Sirius opens his eyes, "could you leave the door open though?"

"Of course I can." You say, standing up from the toilet with a warm smile. He smiles back, but it still looks incredibly pained. He needs stitches. You need to find your wand.

You exit the bathroom and make sure to prop the door open with one of Luna's toy rats. The doorstop didn't need to be heavy, anyway. Your apartment is so fickle it would probably blow over if a strong enough gust of wind were to blow in its direction. The door is light, the wood very thin.

Reentering the kitchen, you find that the stove had been switched off. You walk over to the pot, curiously. The water is level, and nothing is on fire. It's a good thing, but you're still insanely concerned. Who the fuck turned it off?

You spot your wand on the island. You still use magic quite a ton, despite not being very social in the wizarding community. It just makes life easier, to be honest. Also it's refreshing, reminding you of your childhood at Hogwarts with your friends.

Hearing a sudden noise come from your living room, you snatch your wand, holding it out in front of your body protectively. Whoever was in your house needed to leave. Immediately. If you'd found an intruder inside any other day, you would simply call the police or the apartment lobby to check the cameras. But you had a criminal bleeding out in your bathroom. There was nobody you could call for help.

"Y/n?" A feminine voice calls out from the living room.

You recognize the voice, and instantly toss your wand into the sink to hide it from the woman as she enters the kitchen. It clatters against the dirty dishes, but successfully lands at the bottom of the sink safely.

"I'm sorry for coming over so unexpectedly." The woman tells you, rounding the corner and entering the kitchen with a frown on her face. "I heard someone banging on your door, and I thought it was Rue. So I came out to finally catch her being naughty, when I noticed a streak of blood on your doorframe. I hope you don't mind that I let myself in. I was worried."

The woman in front of you is your neighbor. The single mom with three kids. One of those kids — the youngest — is little Rue. She's two years old, and follows her elder siblings around like a lost puppy, not knowing what else to do with her life yet.

You give the woman a smile, "it's fine, June. Thank you for checking on me, you're a good friend."

June is a wonderful woman. She's kind, and hadn't got a single bad bone in her dainty little body. She cares for everyone as if they were her own children. Even you, who's a few years older than her. You genuinely do want to thank her sincerely, but you're currently hyperaware of the fact that Sirius is in your bathtub at the moment. He's covered in blood, with the bathroom door wide open. And the idiot is probably too busy enjoying the warm water to realize someone else is in the apartment.

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but what is all that blood from? It's all over your floors, too." June says, tipping her head to the side as she glances around at the bloody floorboards.

You follow her gaze and realize she's right. There are drips of red blood seeming to be randomly placed across the apartment, leading right to the bathroom. But June hasn't noticed that, yet. She's still too overwhelmed by the fact that there's blood on your floor at all.

Your mind runs through all the possible excuses you could give. You could say you're on your period, but that wouldn't explain the bloody handprint on the doorframe. You could say you saved a dying bird on your way home from work, but she knows you've been home for a while considering the fact that she cut off your stove for you. You settle on telling her the truth, leaving out some key details.

"An old friend came to visit, but he's been hurt pretty badly in an accident on the way here." You tell her.

June frowns, "how badly? Why didn't you call the hospital?"

"He doesn't have insurance." You lie. "Plus, he's hardly hurt. It's a small wound, just bleeding a lot. He punctured a vein."

"Oh." June's face turns pale. You feel a twinge of guilt, knowing you only added that last detail because you knew she hated talking about anything blood-related. It all made her feel very sick. "I don't... I, uh- I think I'm gonna go, now. It's Rue's bed time, she needs her mom to tuck her in."

June lets out a few farewells before hurrying out of the apartment quickly. The moment you hear the door shut behind her, you rush to the bathroom to check on Sirius. The door was open the whole time. And just as you'd thought, he was relaxing leisurely though it all.

"An old friend in an accident?" He questions you before you even say anything. His eyes are still closed, but there's now a smirk tugging at his lips. "I have to admit, the insurance excuse was pretty smart."

"You knew she was here and didn't think to close the door?" You interrogate him, still a bit heated up fro the adrenaline of having June so close to finding Sirius. "What if she saw you?"

"So what?" He quirks a brow, opening his eyes to finally face you. "If she's a muggle, it wouldn't have mattered much anyway."

"Of course it would have mattered!" You shout, not out of anger but from the amount of epinephrine surging through you. "Criminal or not, a random guy bleeding out in my apartment isn't a good look!"

"You don't think I look good?" Sirius asks, his expression as vague as a puppy's.

You want to scream at him for joking about this. It's fucking serious, and he's a grown man, he should treat it as such. But instead, he's teasing you and making snarky comments about his appearace while he's literally naked. It's insane. It's intolerable, and annoying, and frustrating, and- and extremely attractive.

"I'm going to go make pasta." You tell him, needing to exit the bathroom as soon as possible. You can already feel your cheeks heating up, but you're going to blame that on the heat of the bathroom from the rub. "I'll leave the door open, and I'll just be in the other room. So just shout my name if you need anything, Black."

"Will do, darlin'. I've missed shouting your name." He says with a wink, making the red tint to your cheeks deepen even further.

You don't say anything else as you swiftly exit the bathroom and enter the kitchen. God, you need to get your emotions under control. Before he showed up, you hadn't acted impulsively like that. Before he showed up, you had nothing to worry about with your neighbors. Before he showed up, you had never lied to June. But now he's strutting back into your life, and he's screwing it all up again.

He abandoned you when he knows you needed him most. He wasn't the only one who had seeing rotting away for twelve years. He wasn't the only one allowed to make decisions about your guys's future.

You guys could have spent all that time together. You could have spent it getting a two person apartment. You could have made new friends together. You could have even had kids by now. Fuck. You could have had a perfect, normal life. But Sirius wanted to act impulsively and childishly. He wanted to ruin not only his own life, but yours as well. It was exhausting.

After tonight, when you're sure he's okay, you'll tell him all of this. You'll make sure that the bastard knows how badly he's hurt you.

"Here," you say. You reenter the bathroom with two plates of spaghetti in each hand. But you almost drop plates when your eyes land on Sirius, pushing himself up with both of his arms. "Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

You set the plates down on the counter, not bothering to make sure they're sitting in a secure spot. You rush to Sirius's aid, taking him by the arm. He's not even standing up yet, he's only a foot or two above the tub, using only his upper-body strength to hold himself up. His legs are most likely better than they were before, but it's still unwise to act so impulsively. He should have asked for your help instead.

"I don't want to make you feel like a maid." He says, as you gently lower him back into the water — which he isn't very happy about, but you both know that he's in no place to fight or argue with you.

"What are you talking about?" You ask him, sitting down on the floor beside the tub. You remove the drain, allowing the water to exit the tub at a slow but steady pace. If he wants to get out, it'll be much easier to do so without water in the bath. "I don't feel like a maid, Black. You're fatally injured, and I'm helping you out. It's the least I could do."

He scoffs, "you don't owe me anything."

"Excuse me?" You ask. The tone of his voice makes you defensive. He's right, you don't owe him anything, but why is he getting angry about it? The decent thing to do would be to thank you. But of course, he's too good for those kinds of manners. It's unbelievable.

"The last time we talked, I was a complete dick to you." Sirius says, lowering his head to hide his face behind his dripping wet hair. "You didn't deserve that sort of cruelty. The same way I don't deserve this sort of kindness. It's unfair. Unbalanced."

You don't know what to say to that. It sounds like an apology, or at least a version of one — seeing as Sirius is incapable of ever saying what he means without something hidden under the surface of his words. But what could possibly be left unsaid with that? He sounds genuine. His words sound raw.

"Well." You stand up from the floor now that the tub is completely drained of its bloody water. "We can talk more about that over dinner. Right now, you need to focus on what's actually important."

"What's actually important?" Sirius mimics. He raises his head, his hair slipping off his face to reveal a confused expression. "What would that be?"

It's evident that he is still in excruciating pain, and the pathetic bandages you put on him aren't going to last very long. But still, they're managing to keep his bodily fluids inside of his body. Where they belong.

He no longer slurs his words or blinks slowly at you. He can speak normally, and his actions aren't delayed anymore. Noticing this, you let out an enormous sigh of relief. It was awful not knowing if your efforts even paid off. But now, you're at least sure he won't be dying at your hand tonight.

"Getting out of the bathtub." You reply. "After that, we can eat spaghetti for dinner, because it'll help you get a bit of strength back. Then, we can watch a movie while you rest."

A glint of emotion passes behind Sirius's gaze, but he quickly recovers from whatever it had been. He simply nods at you, moving to stand up again. This time, you're here to help him. You sketch one arm over his back to support his weight, to keep him from falling ; the other hand is being used to point him in the right direction, considering the fact that his body seems to only want to lean to the right — the place of his uninjured side.

When he successfully exits the tub, you guide him to the toilet seat to sit for a moment. He obliges, sitting down without question. You leave the bathroom, rushing down the hallway to get him a towel and some clothes that your brother left at your apartment last time he stayed over. Knowing Sirius is incredibly thin from imprisonment, your brother's clothes will most likely swallow him.

When you return, you half expected Sirius to be attempting to stand up again. But he seems to have learned his lesson. He's still sitting on the toilet, his hands pressed to his side as he hunches over slightly. When he notices you in the doorway, he quickly sits up straighter. He almost appears ashamed to have been in pain.

You decide not to draw attention to this, wordlessly handing him the towel and clothes to dress himself. Out of respect, your turn around — which was probably a silly thing to do since he hadn't been clothed the entire time. But Sirius seems to appreciate it, struggling a bit as he draws the cloth around his body.

When you turn back around, the two of you return to how you guys had previously been walking. You support his back, and direct his step in the same way as before.

Together, you guys hobble over to the couch. You lean Sirius back against the cushion, and he visibly relaxes into the soft material. The sight of him so content, makes you feel just as relaxed as he is.

You feel a bit guilty for leaving him again but you do so anyway, returning to the bathroom to retrieve the plates of spaghetti. On your way back to the living room, you quickly turn into the kitchen and fish your wand out of the sink. You hold it in against the dish of pasta, knowing it'd be better to have it just in case than regret not having it at all.

When you return to the living room, Sirius has made himself pretty cozy. He's leaned back on the cushion, a fuzzy blanket pulled around his body. He's hugging one of his legs to his chest ; the other one — which happens to be the one which is on the side of his injury — is extended, propped up on your coffee table.

You hand him his plate and sit side by side on the couch together. You place your wand on the table, grabbing the remote in its place. You switch on the first channel that pops up, which happens to be a very specific cartoon that you guys used to watch together.

Sirius always said that muggle innovations were stupid. This ideology didn't differ when it came to television. He thought the idea was silly and a waste of time, which distracted people from real life issues. You always argued with him over this. You claimed to love the idea of television, thinking it was no different from moving paintings at Hogwarts. Of course, Sirius disagreed. So, you thought that the best way to settle this dispute was to force him to watch something with you. You guys made a bet on it, as well. If he ended up hating the TV, you'd owe him twenty bucks. On the other hand, if he enjoyed it, he'd owe you the money instead.

Long story short, you grew twenty dollars richer by the end of the night. And Sirius had fallen in love with Tom and Jerry.

"He still hasn't caught the damn mouse?" Sirius complains, staring at the flashing screen with furrowed brows. "I mean, wouldn't it be easier to just kill him at this point? I'm not someone who resorts to murder, but it's been decades! Anything would be better than running around in circles like idiots."

You laugh at him, finding it amusing how invested he is in the show. Sometimes, in little moments like this, you don't see Sirius black : an alleged killer running from the police. Instead, you see Padfoot : your best friend and first love. It draws a bittersweet feeling to your gut, making you want to run away from all of your problems. Including him.

You guys continue to eat your pasta in a comfortable silence. They're replaying old episodes that you've seen multiple times. But this is Sirius's first time watching them, and he seems to have no intention of turning the TV off anytime soon. When he finishes his plate, he places it on the coffee table. He doesn't even look down, his eyes still glued to the screen. You giggle, taking his dirty dish to the kitchen. You wash off the grime, and place it out to dry on the counter.

When you return to the living room, Sirius if curled up in a ball on the couch. He's still being very cautious with his wound, carefully leaving it alone.

"Hey," you say as you sit back down beside him. Sirius hasn't removed his gaze from the show, but he must have felt the cushion dip under your weight. Because he moved his legs out of your way before you even said anything.

"Hi." He answers, only halfway paying attention to you.

"You can keep watching the TV, but would you mind if I tried to continue working on your scratch?" You ask him, choosing your words carefully as you grab your wand from the tabletop. This seems to grab his attention quickly.

"Yeah." He answers. His voice comes out confident and steady, but his body language shows what he's afraid to admit. He's scared. He's in pain, on the run, and fully invested in this television that he had once sworn against. But he holds you higher than all of those other issues. You're most important. "Of course you can."

"Thank you." You say. He just nods as he shifts his body out of the curled up position, stretching out so his torso is accessible to you. Then, he lifts up his shirt for you to work on. As soon as you scoot closer, Sirius gets nervous and whips his head back toward the TV.

The thing is, you had taken a few subjects on healing back at Hogwarts, and even a few muggle classes. But now that it's the real thing, you're feeling a bit nervous. If you mess up a spell, it's not just a bad grade on your exam. It's Sirius's wellbeing you're meddling with.

You pull the bandages off of his skin, looking at the gash in full detail. It's really gross, up close. You try not to analyze it too much, gripping your wand in your hand and pointing the tip directly at the wound. Sirius's eyes are still pinned to the TV, so you have the element of surprise to work with here.

"Vulnera Sanentur." You mutter under your breath, tracing your wand along the gash. You recall what you'd been taught. The first time you speak the incantation, the blood would begin to evaporate in thin air. Seeing as there isn't much blood left after the bath, it instead moves onto the second repetition despite only having said it once. And slowly, the wound knits itself back together. The skin slowly pulls at each other, binding together neatly.

You watch Sirius's face, but he seems to not be in any pain from the spell. He makes a slight expression of discomfort but seems perfectly well, otherwise. You look back down at the wound. The only thing left over is a thin scar, the injury completely gone now. Your eyes widen in shock. It worked. It worked!

"Sirius." You say, your voice nearly gone from surprise. Considering you hadn't called him by his first name since his return, Sirius's head spins in your direction at a speed that could've been enough to have given him whiplash.

"What?" He asks. You point at his side, and he follows your finger. Suddenly, his expression mirrors your own. "Holy fuck."

"I'd heard the spell once or twice at Hogwarts, but I didn't think I could do it myself. I was honestly just hoping I wouldn't fuck it up." You ramble, trying to will your brain to keep up with your mouth as you continue to spur irrelevant nonsense. "I wasn't even sure about the pronunciation. I was-"

"You were brilliant." Sirius interrupts you, sitting up without any issue. He wraps his arms around you and embraces you into a tight hug. You hug him back, still in shock with yourself.

"Do you really think so? Or are you just saying that because it worked?" You ask. "I mean, I told you I was completely winging it. I didn't know how to move my wand, or how to--"

"And I told you that I trust you more than anyone else in my life, Y/n." He says, pulling away from the hug to look you in the eye. You meet his gaze, feeling small under it. He gives you a smile — one that brings back a flood of memories from your guys's past. It's genuine and real. Nothing but adoration behind it. It's your favorite smile of his, and he knows it. Sirius continues, "I missed you."

Your eyes soften, "I missed you too, you bastard."

tags : @luvsturniolo @kasqnxx

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