#and honestly all i feel about it is just glad they finally got it done in time for this stupid move | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fallingdownhell · 1 year

Note

Sumeru men when your sister/best friend tries to convince them to dump you for her.

Yes, I absolutely love topes like these. It gives so much room for drama or fluff or however the writer wants to take it. I decided on a less angsty/dramatic approach this time. Hope you're fine with that.

Characters Included: Alhaitham; Kaveh; Cyno; Tighnari; Scaramouche/Wanderer

Word Count: 4,1k

Also, Part two of this is out now! Read here

Content: Gender neutral reader; she/her pronouns for your best friend; she tries to convince them to dump reader; some cursing; Scara being refered to as Kuni(kuzushi);

Thanks for the request, hope you like what I made out of it!

Alhaitham

He would not even notice that your friend is seeing him like this

I honestly think that if Alhaitham were to ever be in a relationship with someone, he would be so whipped for that person

Alhaitham is a very logic driven man, he doesn't concern himself with feelings or other peoples opinions on him

So when he notices that he does feel something for you, he is as shocked as you are, once he finally decides to tell you

the early stages of your relationship are very rocky, Alhaitham has to learn a great many things about all this

you guys have many ups and downs until you finally find a way for you both to work together and it only got better ever since

you really didn't think much of it when you introduced your boyfriend to your friendgroup and one of the girls kept eyeing him

everyone, including you, knew that Alhaitham was a very beautiful man, so it was a common occurence for people to look at him

but she kept doing it, always eyeing him up and down, yet she never tried anything

until one night were you and your boyfriend went out with the rest of your friendgroup

"I'm going to use the bathroom. Be back in a minute.", you said to Alhaitham before you stood up and made your way over to the other side of the restaurant.

The atmosphere was pretty lively inside and everyone was talking among themselves. Everyone, except for one other person. Your friend had been eyeing Alhaitham this entire night again. He always tried to ignore it, but it was becoming rather annoying for him.

As he was about to say something, she suddenly scooted closer to him, right beside him were you were sitting just a minute ago. Then, she leaned in closer to him while she started to slowly stroke his arm.

"So, what do you say we ditch all those other losers and go back to my place?" She smiled at him while saying this and it only made Alhaitham resent her even more.

"No, I'm good.", he said, grabbing her by the wrist and pushing her hand away from him.

"Oh, come on. I know you want me. You keep looking over to me, every time we meet. Besides, I could give you so much more than that bitch (name) ever could."

She tried to lean in even closer, as Alhaitham was still holding her by the wrist. At this point, he was completely fed up with her. Without warning, he stood up from where he was sitting, gathering the attention of their entire table, but he didn't care. He had been dealing with her disgusting behaviour for far too long.

"No, you can not. And frankly, I'm not interested in cheating on my partner. Not now, not ever and especially not with someone as cheap as you are."

By the end of his little speech, you returned back to his side. You only heard what Alhaitham has said since he stood up, but you had a pretty good picture about what had happened in your absence.

You just looked at her dead in the eyes as you said: "Consider this friendship done. I don't want anything to do with you anymore."

And with that, you and your boyfriend gathered all of your stuff and left the restaurant together.

You later found out that all your other friends also distanced themselves from her, apologizing to you and Alhaitham for not noticing anything sooner.

But the two of you were just glad you didn't have to deal with her anymore.

Kaveh

He would make an entire scene about it

This man is dramatic incarnate with mood swings of hell accompanying him

I mean, we all witnessed his personality first hand in the archon quest. No one can tell me this man is not dramatic as fuck

anyways..

Kaveh believes you to be to most beautiful and most perfect person to have ever walked this earth

So for you, a being of absolute perfection in his eyes, to be in love with him and willing to be in a relationship with him?

Archons, someone please catch him because he is sure he's about to pass out on the spot

thinks of himself as the luckiest guy alive to have scored you. He has no clue on how he did it, but he sure as hell wasn't complaining about it.

You better believe that no one would ever come in between you guys. He would never allow anything like that to happen

It was a slow day for him at the Academya. Kaveh had been reviewing sketches all day long until now, yet nothing has been good enough for him until now. It wasn't like he had any deadline to retain, but this whole process of trying to create something new has been taking far too long for his liking and he felt like he was starting to go mad.

The walls of this office felt like they were slowly closing in on him, trying to bury him beneath them. Worst part was, that he forgot to make himself something to eat, so his stomach had been growling for a few hours now, demanding something to eat.

Yet Kaveh refused to stand up and get something before making at least a tiny bit of progress on this matter at hand. He had always been a very stubborn man, often neglecting himself for his work. You have been scolding him a lot for this behaviour, yet it was difficult for him to let go of it. He was just too used to it at this point.

A knock on his open office door brought him back from his thoughts. He looked up, a part of him hoping to see you there, standing in the door. He felt a little let down as he recognised the figure to be your best friend. The confusion came only a few seconds later.

"Huh? Can I help you with something?"

"Well, not really..", she sheepishly said as she approached him, confusing the man even more. Why was she acting this way? Thinking back, she never acted like that when he interacted with her before. What changed?

She stopped as she stood in front of him, shyly handing him a neatly packed box. "I noticed that you haven't eaten anything today, so I got something for you."

He looked at her, confusion finally turning into understanding. But he didn't want to make a scene, especially not with someone you considered a friend, so he tried to let her down gently.

"Sorry, I'm not really hungry right now." That he didn't want anything from anyone that wasn't you, he left unsaid.

"Oh come on. You haven't eaten the entire day. I'm trying to show you that I can take care of you, better than (name) can. They don't care for you, or they would be standing in my place."

Now absolutely furious, Kaveh was practically sprining out of his chair. Screw friendliness, no one was allowed to talk about you like that. And he was sure to tell her that.

"How dare you say something like that?! Aren't you supposed to be their friend? What kind of friend goes around talking about the other behind their back like that?

No, I want nothing to do with a personality like yours. That is disgusting. I'm not about to cheat on (name)! Why would I do something like that to the most wonderful person I ever met? And besides-!"

Kaveh was now in a full blown rant. He didn't even notice your friend running out of his office with tears in her eyes. Unbeknownst to her or your boyfriend, you were standing outside his open office, a lunch box for him in your hands. You heard the entire thing and your also saw your friend, well former friend, running out of his office. She didn't notice you though.

As you went inside, your boyfriend noticed something moving and when he saw you walking towards him, he immediatly went to you and started gossiping about what just happened while happily munching on his lunch that you brought him.

Yeah.. Kaveh was definitely whipped for you.

Cyno

Cyno is a very stoic lover

at least that's what other people think of him since he very rarely shows any form of emotion

so it's only natural for people to assume that he would be the same when entering a relationship with someone else

well.. those people would be very wrong about their thinking

Cyno, when in private or surrounded by others that he trusted, would become a somewhat expressive person

he still wasn't outright affectionate with you or proclaimed his love for you anywhere he went, but he was trying his damn hardest for you to show you that he loved you

that inculded trying to be on good terms with your friends and family

Cyno isn't the most social and outgoing person, but he tries to get along with the people that are important to you

he sometimes turns to them when he needs advice on what would be a good gift for you or stuff like that

moments like these would be the times where your friends can clearly see how much you actually mean to him

One of your friends has always been a drawn to closed of people who become lovestruck with their significant other and apparently, she decided that she wanted that for her as well. And in her mind, it just HAD to be your boyfriend, Cyno

He was on his way home after a long and stressful day at the Academya. Cyno couldn't wait to get home to you, to taste your cooking and just hold you in his arms again. It was all he needed to charge him back up again. Yet it seemed that fate had different plans with him today.

"Uhm, excuse me?", he was stopped by a very soft spoken voice a little bit behind him. He stopped in his tracks and turned around to find your best friend standing there, looking at him like she wanted to tell him something.

"Can I help you?", he asked, sounding rather cold but he couldn't help it. He was exhausted and he just wanted to get this over with and get home.

"Well, I just needed to talk to you. I was chatting with (name) the other day and they told me that they have been cheating on you with someone else. I'm so sorry but I just had to let you know!"

For a second, his eyes widened in absolute shock.

You? Cheating on him?

That couldn't be. You would never...

After the initial shock, his rational side took over Cyno again and he took a deep breath before turning to your best friend again.

"Thank you for telling me that. Have they also told you when this event happened?"

"Oh.. yes, they did. They said that it was like three days ago."

And now, Cyno was utterly confused. He remembered that day well. It has been a very slow day at work. So slow in fact, that after lunch he took the rest of the day off and went home to spend it with you.

You were still in bed since it had been your day off and you decided to sleep in for once. You were pleasantly surprised to see your boyfriend back so soon and you two spend the entire day in bed.

So Cyno was now obviously confused by the statement that your friend made. It was obviously a lie, but why would she feel the need to lie about something like that? Didn't she know that accusations such as these could very easily lead to a break up?

While he was still pondering in his thoughts about the meaning of this, your friend saw this as her chance to get closer to him. She walked towards Cyno, slowly putting her hand on his arm and leaning her head against his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry you had to find out like this. Why don't you come with me? I can help you get over them..", she whispered and that's when Cyno got his answer. The reason as to why she would accuse you of cheating on him.

He immediatly recoiled from her, which seemed to surprise her.

"I don't know how you got that impression, but I would never choose you over them. The fact that you would sink to such lowly methods makes me even more sick.

Now, I suggest, you stay away, from me as well as from (name). I don't want to see you near them ever again. And if I find out that you spread any more lies about them, I will personnaly hunt you down and bring you to justice."

Your friend ran away quickly after that and Cyno could finally return home to you. You noticed that something was off about him and after a nice dinner, he told you all about the encounter he had with your best friend. Well, Ex best friend would be a better term from now on.

That night, you cuddled up closer to Cyno and thanked him for always looking out for you and protecting you.

Tighnari

As we all know, Tighnari is a fennec fox, and fennec foxes mate for life

So Tighnari would only date with the intention of marriage and a life together in mind

something like cheating would never even cross his mind

he would be over the moon if he would find someone that he would want to spend his life with in the first place

you can consider yourself very lucky if Tighnari falls for you

he is very conscious about that side of him and I think he would very much avoid dating for a long time in his life until he met that one person he is sure is meant for him

nothing in this world could ever convince him to leave you once he has made up his mind

of course Tighnari would talk to you about all of that before he would enter a relationship with you

for one to make sure that you were both on the same page, as well as to give you a way out if you were not up for all of that

those were also aspects about his life that he did not share with just anyone

especially regarding things about the fennec fox part of him. only very few and trusted people knew about certain things, like his mating habits

so of course, someone who had no idea about him and how his instincs work, would never fully understand

Tighnari has been looking forward to this day for so long now. You would finally return to him after weeks of being separated because of your studies. While he was understanding about it, he couldn't deny that he missed you greatly.

His more animalistic side has been crying for his mate for a few weeks now and the only form of contact you two had in that time has been through letters you sent each other. Tighnari has been treating each one of them with the upmost care, since it was the only thing he got to recieve from you.

So obviously, the day of your arrival back in Ghandarva Ville was a big deal for him. He has been antsy this entire day, very quick to jump when someone has been calling his name, always anticipating it to be you. Even Collei noticed his change in behaviour, but since she knew where it came from, she didn't worry too much about him, knowing that it would die down once you were finally back. The rangers would just have to deal with it for the time being.

In fact, everyone was very much excited and glad that you would be returning back soon, since they hoped it would finally help with Tighnari's extreme mood swings. They got especially bad the last few days. Well... everyone except one person was excited..

A person that you considered a dear friend was very much not happy about it. If it were her, she would be happy if you just died in a ditch and never returned, so she could take Tighnari for herself. She always had a thing for the Master of the forest rangers, but then you just had to get in the picture and take him for yourself.

She thought that now, while you were gone, it would finally be her time to make her move on him, to get him to see that she was so much better than you could ever be for him. But it was like Tighnari wasn't even paying attention to her. Not to her riskier outfits that she wore and not to the things she was saying to him.

It's like she didn't even exist in his world. Like she was just a nuisance passing through. So, if she really wanted something to happen, she would have to make a deciding move right now, before you returned.

And so, she made her way over to Tighnari's hut, not really sure what she would do, but she knew that she had to do something.

Upon entering, she saw the man sitting on his desk, scribbling on some papers in front of him.

"Tighnari?", she spoke and the man looked up at her, the hope in his eyes quickly washed away as he realised who it was. That did not sit right with her, but she tried to swallow down the fury welling up inside her.

"Yes? Do you need something?", he asked, sounding agitated.

"I do, in fact. I wanted to talk to you about something."

Sighing, Tighnari now turned towards her, facing her with a slightly bothered expression, while gesturing for her to continue.

"It's about (name). I want you to choose me over them. I'm so much better than them and I could make you happy. They even left you alone for weeks on end while I have been here with you, trying to get you to notice me. Tell me, what's so special about them? What do they have that I don't?"

It was silent for a few seconds while she waited for an answer from him. She thought that the silence was something good, that he finally saw her for what she could be for him. But when she raised her head to look at Tighnari, the look of utter disgust on his face told her a different story.

"Well, there are many things that you don't have, but we can start with your disgusting personality. (Name) would never even dare to think of themselves as better or above other people. The fact that you think yourself better than them makes me sick.

Now listen closely.. I will never choose anyone over (name). I promised to take care of them an I will see to it that I uphold this vow. So get out of here before I completely loose my temper."

Without another word from her, she ran out and left a very strained Tighnari back in his hut. He was still sorting through his thoughts when a few minutes later, you walked in, greeting your boyfriend after a long time apart.

Tighnari was instantly overjoyed, forgetting all about the events that happened prior to this. He welcomed you in his arms again and refused to let go again. He did not work anymore on that day, and instead spent the rest of it cuddling with you in his bed, talking about all the stuff that happened while you two were apart.

As for "your rival", she got transfered back to the Academya where she would continue her studies, far away from you and Tighnari. But neither of you cared very much about that.

Wanderer/Scaramouche

God, the patience you would need to get into a relationship with him

he never had a very good influence in his life after Niwa and the people from that village, so you will have to be patient and understanding with him

He is trying his best, but it's difficult for him to feel vulnerable

he always considered his feelings as a sign of weakness, so he can't just easily accept them now

It's a process and he will need your help to get through it, even if he would never ask for your help out loud

his pride is in his way quite often, but he tries to tone it down

I see him as a very protective and clingy lover

He would want to be by your side at all times. He tells himself it's to make sure that you don't betray him, but you both now it's because he's starved for any kind of attention and affection you give him

for wanderer to get into a relationship, he would have to really, really trust you, otherwise he would not even consider the thought

so of course he would never consider the possibility of a relationship with someone who was practically a stranger to him

The Wanderer was currently out on a run to get some errands for you. Even though he protested, said you shouldn't have forgotten stuff that you obviously needed, his words were betrayed as he was already on his way to the door.

The thing is, you wanted to cook for him today but silly little you forgot to put a few things on your shopping list that you would need for the dish you were planning to make.

So, your boyfriend, chivalrous as he is, went out to the Grand Bazar to get them for you. He planned on a quick trip, only purchasing the things he needed to, so he could return as quickly as possible.

"Hey, Kuni!"

But fate seemed to have different plans with him, as he heared this joyful voice almost scream his name. He turned around to see a friend of yours running towards him, her arm in the air as she was waving at him.

"What do you want from me? And who told you you could call me that?"

Truth is, he never really liked her. She always looked him up and down and the way she was talking to you never really set right with him. But, he refrained from saying anything, not wanting to upset you or anything. Now though, he wished he wouldn't have acted so friendly with her.

"Aww, come on. Don't be so grumpy, Kuni. I know you like it when I call you that."

Did she... try to sound seductive right now? Judging by the way she was clinging to him and batting her lashes at him, he would guess that yes, she was trying to seduce him. Not that he would ever agree to any of it, but he wanted to see how far she would be willing to go.

"Yeah, you're right.. I do... like it.." Every fiber of his being wanted to recoil from her and throw up in disgust after he said those words. It felt so wrong to him, but it seemed that she didn't notice that.

In fact, she looked delighted to hear those words leave his mouth. "I knew it. I knew that you would come around. It was obvious that (name) wasn't the right person for you. After all, they can never do anything right, wouldn't you agree? Honestly, I'm just glad I stayed friends with them long enough to get to know you. We match so much better, don't you think?"

Ohh, now she was in for it. He would not just stand here and allow her to disrespect you like that. Not on his watch.

"Now listen here, you little bitch. I know you did not just say that about someone who consideres you to be a friend. I don't know how you got the idea that I could ever be into you, but you're very wrong.

So get that into your thick skull, I will never want someone like you. And I suggest you better leave (name) and me alone from now on. Unless of course, you want to find out what I can do to make your life a living hell.

Now, run along, and never come back."

Suddenly frightened, she slowly backed away from him before turning and bolting away like the devil itself was chasing after her.

The Wanderer only sighed as he finished up with the shopping list and returned back to you like nothing had happened.

The next few days, you noticed that your friend avoided you like the pest, but when you went to your boyfriend to ask if he knew if anything had happened, he merely shrugged his shoulders, pretending that he didn't know anything.

8K notes · View notes

504py · 1 month

Note

Do you have any thoughts on yandere SDV Harvey?🤔

i sure do!!!! i think i got a little carried away 😭😭😭 i hope i delivered!

Yandere Harvey Relationship Headcanons

Gender neutral, no use of Y/N, munchausen syndrome by proxy, implied murder, implied NSFW, Harvey's a little weird about bodily fluids and food, long post ahead!

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

How the relationship started...

Let's say, he knows you outside of his work, and somehow, you're the one person in Stardew Valley who has never entered his clinic before. Honestly, you'd have drawn his attention right then and there because of your strange imperviousness to harm or disease.

Like... You? That farmer who goes down into the mines every other day to fight monsters has never been injured? You, who works day and night to the point of exhaustion has never gotten sick and required medical assistance?

The fact that you weren't one of his patients would worry him to his bones.

Even if you weren't one of his patients, he'd have befriended you outside of work. Perhaps at the saloon, after hours, and one of the very rare times he's seen you relax.

He notices the slight limp as you enter, different from your usual gait. When he asks, you chalk it up to a rock in your boot. Harvey sends you a disapproving stare and a furrowed mustache, and you loosen up.

You tell him you tripped while running away from a slime in the mines. And that you maybe pulled something while running. And maybe you lifted something wrong yesterday and hurt your back. And-

Harvey takes off his glasses to rub at the space between his eyebrows, stressed.

"And not once did you think to come visit me?"

"Thought it would go away if I just slept and drank enough water."

His gaze softens.

"..I really do advise it. Please."

Your fingers play with your glass. He can see a bruise forming on the side of your wrist, and the cuts and calluses on your skin.

"...I'll do it tomorrow."

He sighs slightly.

"Well, since I can't do anything for you right now, I'll at least buy you a drink."

"You can do that?"

"Hey, it numbs the pain. Painkiller." He jokes, and you laugh and shake your head. He realizes he likes the sound of your laugh.

"But- wait, don't take that as real medical advice. Really. Please."

That pulls another laugh out of you, louder, and pink warms his cheeks as he laughs heartily alongside you.

The next evening, Harvey waited all day for you to come in. It was nearing closing hours, and he was worried you had disregarded his advice, but right as he got up to start closing the clinic, the door opens, and there you are, leaves in your hair and your muddy shoes leaving a track on his tiles.

He's elated, he knows he shouldn't be, considering why you're even here, but he's so glad you listened to him, so glad you're here. He looks noticeably flustered, his hair is slightly out of place, his glasses are sliding down his nose, and his tie is loose.

"O-Oh, hey there. You finally came in."

"Were you waiting for me? I apologize. It looked like you were about to close up."

He waves your worries away with a dismissive hand, "Ah, what's one more patient? Come on, you look like you really need my help, anyways."

You follow him into a room, cringing at the muddy mess you leave on the floor.

"Sorry for that- I can clean up after we're done."

Harvey insistently shakes his head, sighing your name, "No, no, can't have you doing that, not in the condition you're in." He motions over to the bed, you sit on the edge of it.

"Besides, I haven't even started my assessment of you yet, but I already know you're gonna need a few days of rest at least. Doctor's orders."

He smiles softly at your annoyed expression, donning his stethoscope as you straighten your posture slightly, readying for him to place the other end of the apparatus on you.

"...See, you've got an abnormal heart rate for someone who is at rest."

He notes the warmth of your skin under his palm, resting against your back.

"Have you been feeling ill recently? Runny nose, coughing, headaches, anything of the sort?"

"U-Uh, no." You shake your head, playing with the fabric of your trousers. Nervous.

"...You seem rather flustered. Any reason?"

Your eyes glance up at his, he cocks his head, and you immediately look back down to your feet.

"...Nah."

Harvey smiles, knowingly, and the rest of the appointment continues as normal.

Expectations...

Following this, he'd be more obvious in his attempts to court you. His courting attempts would feel rather old-fashioned, but I think there's a lot of heart in them. I feel like Harvey would be a little bit of a sucker for romantic things, so you'd definitely be receiving letters, all from a secret admirer, of course.

He is confident that he likes you, but he'd carry a lot of anxiety about being so upfront about it, and that perhaps you wouldn't feel the same way.

The letters he sends you would be brief yet sweet. Short messages to pick you up for the day, just wanting to be a part of your life.

"If you ever feel like all the work you do isn't appreciated, know that I am always here, and I always do. You are doing great."

You'd tell him about the letters you've been receiving, during one of your evenings together at the bar. It'd make him blush. Oh, his letters were so important to you that you had to gush about them to a friend?

"And... What do you think of them? The letters?" His eyes are slightly wider than they should be, but the reflections on his glasses hide his faintly, much-too focused expression.

You shy from his eye contact, "...I think they're really sweet. But honestly, I wish they'd just... say it to me directly instead of hiding like this. I want to communicate, talk to them, y'know? Have a conversation, and stuff.."

Harvey blinks, wets his lips.

"What do you think you'd do if he-" He clears his throat, "-they did?"

You frown a little, mulling over the thought for a bit.

"...I'd go on a few dates with them, see if things work out."

His exhale is shaky, he takes a sip of his whiskey.

"Who do you think it is?"

You meet his gaze. His eyes are warm, his cheeks are red too, but that might be the alcohol... Though you realize he's not the type to get flushed when drunk.

"...Is it you?"

His fingers around his glass tremble, and his bottom lip quivers.

"I.. w-well..." He pushes his glasses up, nervously running a hand through his hair. You giggle, and he relaxes.

"Yeah." He smiles warmly.

"Yeah?" You chirp out a laugh again, "I figured."

Although Harvey was usually one who didn't have any problem holding eye-contact at all, now he found himself unable to look at you for too long without getting giddy like a schoolgirl and having to look away to save his racing heart.

That night, you two would be declared a couple. He teased you, wondering where that "first few dates then we'll see how it works out" phase went. You said it was different if it was him, and he had to hide his face in his hands to conceal his boyish, cheesy grin.

His first show of affection would be the next morning, when he brought you a bouquet of flowers to your doorstep, but upon arrival, seeing your expansive field of vegetation, he realized it was perhaps a bit stupid to gift flowers to someone who grows them.

Nonetheless, you accepted them from an embarrassed Harvey gratefully, saying you've wanted to try growing these for a while. Lo and behold, the next time he shows up, with a more thought-out gift this time, he sees a few new flower pots on your front porch.

Harvey as your boyfriend is strangely rather maternal. He tends to be quite the worrywart, always fussing over any cuts or bruises you may get while going about your day, making sure you eat and get enough rest, and always making sure you're dressed properly.

Oh, the different kind of monster Harvey turns into during the winter LOL. He will stay posted by your door, making sure you don't step a foot outside without a thick coat or gloves.

He does enjoy more than he likes to admit, though, when you still feel cold and he has to give you his coat or his scarf. It makes him all smiley and he thinks you look adorable in his clothing.

I think, his deepest desire, is for you to always stay safe, and that he is the one to provide that safety. I mean, with him being a doctor, he is the only person qualified to look after you anyways, but he still does get jealous.

He gets really upset when he's out of the clinic for a bit, and finds out that Maru was the one who tended to your wounds instead of him.

He gets more jealous when you tell him about the work you did that day, and another person was with you.

What do you mean you spent the evening fishing while conversing with Elliott? That could've been him...

What do you mean you spent the afternoon in the library with Penny? Wha- Gunther winked at you!?

Harvey really does want to spend more time with you, but he has a duty to attend to.

Unless...

Punishments...

Maybe, one day, Harvey will stop worrying so much over your health. He'll let you do your thing as you please, though it would hurt him to see you going about your day so haphazardly. But he'll hold back on his usual worried malewife nagging, and just let you do you.

One day, your dangerous lifestyle will catch up on you, and maybe you'll catch a cold, or you'll break a bone. Harvey will be there immediately, much too prepared.

Even though this is what he wanted from this plan, he still cries. He hates seeing you so beat-up, but he couldn't think of any other way to always be by your side. At least the tears blow away any suspicion of his part in this.

It could be a tiny fracture, but he'll still insist you'd need a cast, and that you'd need a wheelchair for the first few weeks. And, of course, Harvey's there to coddle you and help you around.

Maru says she can look after you while Harvey runs the clinic, but he gets uncharacteristically hostile at the mere suggestion of this. If Maru were to keep prying, if she were to find out that your injuries aren't as bad as he says they are, then Harvey might have to resort to more drastic measures.

Murder would be a very difficult thing for Harvey to do, but when he thinks about the life you two have right now- having you rely on him for everything, taking care of you everyday, spending every single moment with each other- his heart feels like it could fall out of his chest at the thought of anyone taking that away from you two.

His access to such a wide array of chemicals and medicines would be terrifying. If anyone threatens this peaceful, perfect life between you two, he could simply inject them with a certain concoction during their routine check-ups, say they needed it, that it was medicine, and it wouldn't even show in an autopsy.

Unfortunately, his tampering with human life extends to you.

Harvey, I think, would get much too enamored by this life you two have made since you've gotten injured.

Being able to dote on you with no restraint, being by your side for every single moment, it was all he could ever dream of.

But all good things come to an end, and your fractured bone would start to heal.

He never thought he'd be capable of lying, not sure if he'd ever done it before, but it's a newfound talent to him. Worries him how good he is at it.

He tells you you need to keep that cast on. That even if you're allowed to use crutches now instead of a wheelchair, that you still need his assistance. He insists that you need him.

Any sort of push-back from you would have his heart pounding. No, no, you can't get up and go back to work. You can't be doing chores on your own, he'll do that- You cannot leave.

Munchausen syndrome by proxy from an actual doctor would be a horrifying thing to go through. Not just any other doctor either, but Harvey, a man who seems so gentle and kind-hearted, a man who is supposed to be your partner.

Sad to say, but I don't think you'd have any way out of this. Your best course of action would be to just let him take care of you as much as he pleases. In due time, he would want to see you get better, so you'll be back to having your freedom in a few months, maybe...

Rewards...

It is pretty comedic saying this after that punishments portion, but Harvey, on more normal days, really is a passive man. He doesn't really have any strange obsessive habits, though he's probably a little weird about fluids...

By that, I mean he'd probably slip a little bit of his saliva or semen into his cooking. He gets a really euphoric rush when he sees you eating that tainted food he made for you. He enjoys that idea that a part of him is mingled in your body now. The other way around goes, too.

When you're sleeping, sometimes you drool, did you know that? You probably don't, because Harvey always wipes it off and licks it. It gives him shivers whenever he does, makes him way more excited than it should.

His libido is not the highest, but that's because I think he makes an active effort to suppress himself. Wants to be good for you. Harvey does have these dirty thoughts pretty often, but he usually just excuses himself to the bathroom for a second to relieve himself when it gets too unbearable. Even then, he dislikes this, since he feels like it'd be a waste of his release, since it's not inside you.

Every day would feel very domestic, he'd tease that you two already act like an old married couple, but he'd secretly hope you'd catch on to the idea he's putting down.

Harvey really does want to get married to you. He honestly, strangely, would act a lot more normally if you two were to be wed. It's like, there is something that exists that ties you two together, so even if you two aren't always by each other's side, he at least finds some comfort in knowing you two are bound forever.

Let's just, uh, hope you don't divorce him... Honestly, at this point, he may have already taken care of Mayor Lewis, so that option won't even be open to you anymore.

Harvey would probably try to pop the question during a little picnic he prepared for the two of you. The box for your engagement ring hidden in the picnic basket, amongst carefully wrapped sandwiches and lunchboxes.

You would pick it up while looking through the basket, wondering what it was. You open it, and Harvey feels like he could faint from how fast his heart is beating.

He stutters a lot, being unable to look you in the eye, then you rest a hand on his shoulder, and he feels alright again.

"I... I'd really like to get married with you, my love. Whaddya say?"

You smile at him, you say yes, and Harvey literally shouts in joy, before roughly taking you in his arms.

He quickly apologizes for being so erratic, but he swears he's never been happier. He just loves you so much.

Even though you two were only fiancés at this point, he'd call you his husband/wife/spouse from time to time, just a slip of the tongue, but he does get shy about it.

Your life together would be relatively the same now, just with some more added affection.

He'd get more comfortable around you, kissing you more often, getting more touchy, wearing less clothing around the house.

Of course, his main core value is still there; to care for you.

When thinking of Harvey's love language, you would, rationally, expect it to be acts of service. However, I posit this; his love language would be allowing himself to be taken care of.

He does get tired, and you do notice. You try to do his chores, try to take care of yourself so he'd have some time to relax, but he always gets fussy about it.

He insists that he can still do it, that he can still do things for you. Perhaps, he's scared that if he's unable to please you, that you'll go elsewhere, fall out of love with him.

You can sense that fear, and you tell him you'll still be here. You tell him to go lie down and rest, and you'll join him when you've finished cleaning up.

The wrinkles on his forehead soften up, so does his gaze, and he nods.

"I... Alright, sweetheart. I'll be waiting. Don't take too long, okay?"

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

602 notes · View notes

strongheartneteyam · 4 months

Text

A New Beginning.

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x female!human!reader/female!avatar!reader

cw: lots of fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, slightly sexual language, kissing, hugging, tsaheylu is mentioned, TRIGGER WARNING for brief talk of death (of Reader's human body), Jake and Neytiri being the best in-laws ever

@anika-rose-walker Here's your request after ages lol I'm so sorry, boo 😅

I changed the plot from what you asked a little bit (Neteyam and Reader are already together, instead of confessing to each other throughout the story) bc I had already written the beginning of it when I went back and read the rest of your request lol I hope you don't mind. I love you sm and I hope you like it, my lovely Kayla 💕

PS: in this story, going through a transference of consciousness from a human body to an Avatar is not as dangerous as it used to be because it has been done many times before. I have no idea if it makes sense but pls just go with it for the sake of it being easier to write 🥲 my wrist hurts so bad

na'vi words: tsaheylu (neural bond that the na'vi make with their mate), yawne (beloved), yawntu (loved one), paskalin (sweet berry), muntxate (female mate), muntxatan (male mate), oeyä (my, mine), sevin (pretty), tawtute (human)

Not proofread. Sorry if some parts are a bit off but I can't fix it rn lol

༉‧₊.

The suns of Pandora were shining bright in the sky that day but nothing was brighter than your smile. You were overcome with happiness as what you had been anticipating for so long was finally gonna happen: you were getting your own Avatar, a body that would let you experience Pandora without that damn oxygen mask that held you back, not letting you breathe the fresh air and worse, not letting you kiss your na'vi boyfriend Neteyam unless you two were inside the lab. You were the daughter of one of the best scientists of the laboratory so you always spent a lot of your time there, but Neteyam was a busy young man and he couldn't visit you at the lab everyday which sucked. You were so addicted to him that spending even a single day without feeling his plump blue lips on yours, his soft and wet tongue lapping and sucking on your tongue felt like a kick in the stomach. You truly felt lovesick whenever it happened. Talk about a strong love and being needy for someone.

You were walking through the Omatikaya mainland, where all the people's huts were, and looking for your boyfriend. You hadn't told him you were gonna get an Avatar. You wanted it to be a surprise. Your brain could not comprehend that you would finally be able to make tsaheylu with Neteyam. Tsaheylu, man! Imagining being able to feel his affection for you through the bond, his need and desire, feel the pleasure he was feeling as the two of you mate… that felt otherworldly and so incredibly exciting. It's a connection beyond what your human brain could comprehend, honestly. Only your na'vi brain would be able to fully understand it.

Neteyam ended up finding you before you could find him. There was a sea of tall blue aliens around.

“Sevin tawtute!” He called out to you loudly, his voice excited

When your ears heard that beautiful voice and your eyes saw his large figure, you ran to his arms and held him tight, your head only reaching his waist, so much taller he was than your human frame. You wondered the height difference you two would have once you were Dreamwalking.

“Oooh! I'm glad you're this happy to see me, muntxate!” Neteyam put his big hands on your head and pet your hair softly.

“Teyam, I got something wonderful to tell you!” You looked at him, as happy as a kid who just got a gift they'd been waiting for ages to get

Neteyam got down on his knees to cut your height difference almost in half.

“What is it?” He smiled, his fangs charmingly touching his lower lip

“My father just told me earlier today that my Avatar is ready.” Your eyes shone like stars in a dark night sky

“Your what?!” His striped blue face betrayed his surprise

Neteyam's heart started beating fast. Was his yawne truly telling you what he thought she was?

“Are you serious, princess? Why didn't you tell me about it? My Eywa…” he chuckled, still incredulous

“I wanted it to be a surprise! I wanted to see this beautiful surprised look on your face, muntxatan.” You look so cute. I love you so much.” Your eyes started to water

Neteyam smiled even wider. He took your oxygen mask off and quickly used both his large hands to grab your face and crushed his lips against yours, before putting it back on again.

❦︎

You opened your eyes and your vision seemed to be better as you tried to get used to the bright white artificial lights of the Avatar first testing room in the lab.

“How are you feeling, (y/n)?” Your hearing was surely much sharper as you heard those words coming from a nurse's lips in a much louder volume than you would in your human body.

You moved your fingers and raised your hands up next to your face so you could look at them. Your fingers were blue and your wrist had some bioluminescent freckles on it. God, your skin looked much more beautiful now than it did in your human body. You were afraid you were already liking this body much more than your original one.

Your focus was so much on your new experience in your Avatar that you forgot to answer Julia's - the nurse - question.

“Can you hear me, (y/n)?” You got out of your trance and finally looked at her

“Yes. Yes, I can! Really well, by the way.” You smiled at her. Your fangs touching your lip was a new sensation, a really cool one.

After the scientists and nurses ran some tests with you on your new Avatar, you finally were able to change from your hospital like clothes and went out of that cold room wearing some dark jeans shorts and a simple white sleeveless shirt made of a cotton like material.

You saw Neteyam sitting in one of the brown sofas in the next room. His beautiful face looked tense.

All his tension faded away as soon as he saw you. His pretty yellow eyes shone as he took your appearance in. Neteyam didn't think he could ever fall even deeper in love with you but that had just happened.

“Oeyä muntxate… you look breathtaking. Oeyä sevin yawne…” he walked slowly towards you, still enchanted by the sight of your Avatar body

Neteyam held you by your waist, bring you close to him and gave you the most tender of kisses. You kissed him back, your lips almost trembling with happiness and affection. Neteyam tasted your mouth, his tongue licking not only your tongue but your fangs too, exploring your new na'vi body. He loved how similar you were to him now just as much as he loved the differences between the both of you when you were in your human form.

❦︎

Some weeks passed and you had never been more happy. A short period of time lived being able to Dreamwalk and kiss Neteyam in the woods, on the Sully's hut and in any other place you wished to brought you much more joy than all the years you lived before.

You and Neteyam were standing in front of the lab. You two were about to say goodbye and you would wake up in your human body. But there was a feeling inside of you that you had been haunted by for some time now and it was getting harder and harder to fight it. You finally spilled it out.

“I think I wanna leave my human life behind and become one of the people. If they will have me. If you will have me…” somehow you felt insecure, as if you forgot how happy Neteyam got whenever you were by his side

Surprise was all over his face.

“Are you sure of what you're saying?”

“Yes, I am. I've never been more sure of anything in my life. I know it seems sudden… I'm tired of being human… I'd much rather be your mate and learn archery, learn to cook na'vi recipes, worship Eywa, participate in the sacred rituals, run free in the woods instead of worrying about human social rules, live among artificial lights, eat junk food - don't get me wrong, you know I love some good hamburgers” Neteyam laughed at your remark “but fresh hunted meat, seasoned with herbs and wild spices tastes much better. Also…” You looked into his large feline eyes “I wanna spend more time with you, I wanna live in our own hut… I wanna be always by your side, my Teyam. I hope you don't find me too needy.”

“Of course not, yawntu. The more you need me, the better ‘cause I need you too. So much.”

He stole a happy smile from you with those words.

“And, yawne… How could you ever doubt if I will have you be na'vi and always be with me, live in our own hut? Darling, that's all I've ever wanted. Only Eywa knows how many nights I've talked to her, wishing that it could happen one day.” His voice was full of heartfelt truth

You breathed out, relieved.

“We can talk to my dad about it. He's been through it himself before, I'm sure he can be of great help.”

You nodded and smiled “Okay.”

❦︎

After Neteyam took you to talk to the Olo'eyktan of the Omatikaya tribe, his dad Jake, his tired face lit up and he smiled, showing no teeth or fangs at first.

“You sure of it, kid? It's a big deal. Your human body is gonna die and that can be really traumatizing to your head.

“I know, Mr Sully. I've thought about that. I can deal with it if it means getting to live as one of the people forever.” You said sternly

“You're also gonna make a big commitment by becoming na'vi. You're gonna have to learn to be use weapons, to haunt, to be fearless. You're gonna have to prove yourself worthy and go through your Ikinimaya before being truly considered one of the people. Are you up for it?” He looked like a mix of a father giving some life lessons to his kids, like a military chief of some kind and like a fierce leader. All three were indeed a part of him.

“Yes. I will do my best to prove myself worthy of becoming na'vi.”

Neteyam watched the two of you, some tension inside of him, as he felt like maybe his father was being too harsh on you, but he also knew he was doing what he had to as the Olo'eyktan and as someone who had once made the same decision you were making now and knew very well what he was talking about.

“Then you have all my support!” Jake finally smiled wide and opened his arms towards you “give me a hug, kid.”

You gladly walked until you got to where he was squatting - not that far from where you were sitting cross legged before - and hugged your father-in-law.

Neteyam smiled too.

“Thank you, Dad.”

When it came the time to talk to Neytiri, things went smoother than you had imagined. It seemed like a dream, in all honesty.

“You do whatever your heart tells you to do, paskalin.” Neytiri smiled at you “I believe Eywa herself chooses every human who decides to become one of the people. How could you say “no” to a request coming from the Great Mother?”

Your brain could not come up with words to describe how happy and relieved those words coming from your mother-in-law made you.

❦︎

Talking to your dad broke your heart a little. Your mother had died and you were his only family now.

“I just don't wanna lose my little girl.” Your dad was now sniffing. You felt bad as you never saw him cry.

“I'm not leaving you, Dad! I'm gonna visit you all the time! You're always gonna be my Dad. And you can always visit me when you have some free time, too.” You tried to comfort him by holding his hand as the both of you sit in your bed, in your bedroom

“I know. It's just not gonna be the same. And I'm gonna miss your beautiful human body. I'm gonna miss the girl I've raised since she was a little child.” You felt a stab in your heart. You honestly had not thought how much of a shock it would be to your dad to see your human body die. You felt a little selfish.

“She's still gonna be here.” You touched the place where your heart was, inside your chest “My soul will not change. I'm still gonna be me.” You looked into his eyes, trying to convince him of that

“I know. I just want you to be happy and if that's how you're gonna find your true happiness, I'd never try to be on your away.”

“Thank you, dad. I love you.” You hugged him and he felt a little better

You eventually broke the hug.

“I want you to come to my transferring of consciousness ceremony. Can you try and find some time on your busy scientist schedule to come and see your daughter wake up in her new body?”

“I wouldn't miss it for the world!” He gave you a supportive smile

The next step would be your transferring of consciousness ceremony. Mo'at seemed utterly happy to perform it. She wasn't that affectionate but you could read her feelings in her big amber eyes.

That night you slept in peace, knowing that the next time you would go to sleep again, you would be in your then permanent na'vi body and inside Neteyam's arms, your mate, the love of your life, probably making tsaheylu, as connected as you two could ever be. As one.

♡

Taglist:

@criticallybella

@yeosxxx

605 notes · View notes

pedge-page · 5 months

Text

Insatiable

Part 3/Finale to Cravings and Crash

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Summary: Frankie and reader spend some time apart before realizing that’s actually really stupid—and solid communication happens for once :)

Notes: it’s finally HERE! Thank you all so much again for your words of praise and keeping with these two absolute idiots in love. Honestly intended the first one to just be a one-off drabble throw away thought, but I’m glad everyone enjoyed it so much to ask for more! I’m spitting this out earlier than expected. Don’t know if I’ve done them reasonable justice but this is what I’ve got—hope you like it!

Warnings: unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampies, mentions of m oral, pussy eating king returns, cum eating, missionary, doggy, cowgirl, overstimulation, fingering, squirting, bit of possessive and jealous Frankie, mentions of drug use, drugs present, language

18+ ONLY

- - - -

You had cried when you got in your car. And again when you went to your cousin’s house to crash until you signed your new lease. And then again every night for a week straight.

You had NEVER cried this hard over a boy before.

Except this wasn't some boy—this was Frankie. The guy who comforted you through all your dates that stood you up, and shitty boyfriends, albeit few, that left you feeling less than worthwhile. The same Frankie who stood around you like a guard dog when you went drinking together so no one would even think to slip something in your cup, but who YOU have to comfort during horror movies because he's a big scared kitten. Who lets you sleep on his shoulder for five hours in the car no matter how uncomfortable it was for him, never once moving, but still ate the food you didn't like off your plate "because he's a garbage dump who'd eat anything, even mold."

The first guy to tell you that you were beautiful when you weren't even trying to impress him. Who brings a hair tie with him when you go to eat because you always forget yours and get your hair caught in your fork. Who pushed you to take charge of your life and break up with your loser first love, and it was the hardest and best decision you could have ever made.

And you know what? The ONLY guy who made you cum 9 fucking times the FIRST time he went down on you.

You called Santi that night because you needed to let loose, and the only other person you trusted to hold you up outside of Frankie was Pope.

“So how is he?” Santi asked, as you immediately double fisted your first two shots.

"I don't wanna talk about him tonight."

Santi nods, eyes widening as you don’t even resist the bitter taste going down your throat. He holds his finger up towards the waitress to order 4 more glasses.

You really didn't want to think about Frankie. The more you thought about him, the more confused you felt, and you couldn't afford to be confused about your purpose in his life right now. You knew battling addiction isn’t a linear healing process. That it would get worse before it got better at times. You're his friend. You're helping him. That's it.

Frankie spent a whole year being physically intimate with you, but never once asked or made a move for anything more emotionally. So why let yourself get carried away even thinking about something more?

To even consider if you wanted more...

You snatch the shot glass out of Santi's hand right before he was about to sip it and catapulted it down your throat, the burning sensation taking your mind out of the gutter.

Fuck Frankie for not keeping his shit together. Fuck him for being hot and cold. Fuck him for using you when that's exactly what you’re here for.

It's much easier to keep it all that way. Easy to encourage him with sex to avoid overthinking his intentions. Easier to constantly verbalize it, knowing he won’t deny it, as a means of reassurance to yourself.

But absolutely fucking HELL he’s being so difficult lately. The sex—wasn’t just good. It was fucking phenomenal. you could physically see how much better he was just moments afterwards, even if you were blacking out and falling asleep not too long after. He was so hungry for it too, why deny? But he’d been holding back too much now—getting too tense, crashing, then stressed again. You needed to get things back on schedule with him so he’d be happy again.

And gentle, nurturing, innocent, sober you just wasn't doing the trick for him anymore.

You barely hear Santi over the pounding in your head: "When we was the last time you got laid? You need a distraction from your Fix-a-Fish hobby."

You gulp down the last of the vodka on the table, suppressing a slight burp.

"I'm 'bout to do both tonight."

That was 4 weeks ago. You didn’t achieve either that night.

Fish didn't seem too upset when you left, ultimately making the choice much easier. You looked so fucking stupid walking in there, basically demanding sex from him when he made it clear all year that you were only there for HIM and not the other way around. He didn’t want you like that.

Good. Makes staying friends that much easier.

Or it did, for a little while.

You couldn’t get over the way he made you feel when all was well—when he’d serenade you so easily in affection like Querida, Carino, Hermosa, and you could barely contain the butterflies in your stomach each time. You had never once heard him even refer to his dates or ex girlfriends in the same manner. It was both confusing and arousing. He treated you like a best friend some times, but adored you like a lover more.

Hadn’t the man heard of friendship boundaries? Aside from the fact he made you orgasm every minute of the day, what was Frankie like as a lover? What more could he possibly do to cross that line?

Who the hell treats their friend like that?

That last month, however, felt more realistic. Grounded in the truth of your relation. You didn’t realize how much he had gotten to you with sweet words first that made the change in his attitude so unbearable.

You wanted to go back to being selfish with his unbridled love.

You hadn’t gotten off in over a week, a new record. But as you lay in bed, conjuring any and all pornos, audio eroticas, pillows, aching fingers, even the dusty vibrator still wrapped in its new plastic, nothing was getting you to that same addictive feeling that Frankie gave you every single day.

You should have called him to return his shirt you had accidentally packed in your bag in a haste to get out of there. But it still smelled like him. You felt perverted getting wet just by holding it in your hands, but it was doing the trick, and finally you could touch yourself without additional lubricant assistance.

All the memories that tumbled from then on only made the ache between your legs worse: The first night, Frankie between your legs, begging you to let go so he could force more orgasms from your shaking body. “Doing s’good for me, cariño. Give me more, fucking starving” ; when he held you in his lap as you grind down on his bulge, his head buried under his shirt that you were wearing as his lapped at your nipples, “Don’t you dare hold back those beautiful moans, wanna hear you singing when I’m devouring you”; when he’d come home from work and didn’t say a word, just grabbed your wrist and lead you to his bedroom, lied on the bed, slapped your ass a few times to get you to straddle him higher, higher, until you were right over his lips. He didn’t even wait for your hesitation, immediately bringing your hips down and crashing his lips on your pussy, shaking his head like a mad scientist at work, hell bent on discovering what makes you cry faster.

You pulled your fingers away from your slick cunt. No amount of memory would compare to the real thing—and it wasn’t all the acts that you needed, but the intimacy, the familiarity that came from Frankie—THAT’S what always sent you over the edge.

It scared you.

Santi was half right. You did need to get laid. Needed someone who wasn’t Frankie to remind you that you don’t rely on him for some shit like getting off (although you had developed a keen preference by now). You needed a new hobby that wasn’t thinking about Frankie all the time. YOU needed a distraction.

He was half wrong, however, because you knew very well that you’d be drowning in lame date after lame lay a million times before you got over the addictive feeling of being around Fish this past year.

It never felt like a chore. Well, obviously, you were getting ate out like a Sunday brunch. But it was everything else that made you want to keep staying around, even after he maybe didn’t need you anymore.

You realized then that leaving was the best for you and him. You had somehow managed to score a date tonight, the first one in over a year, with a James. Or Jonathan. Or Jimmy. Something J. I think.

I’m excited. I’m going on a date. I’m going to have fun. I’m excited. Im going on a date. Im going to have fun.

You didn’t even have the care to shave tonight before you begrudgingly left for dinner and a movie.

He couldn't say it then. Frankie remembered so vividly the image that he wishes he could forget: you standing there, so meek and vulnerable, spilling your tears as you tried to level your emotions with your feelings and confront the fucked up situation he put you in. Maybe if you had screamed, yelled at him and cussed him out for being such a dick, then he could have told you how he truly felt.

He was always better at being shouted at by others from being in the service. The guys would let their tempers soar and just shout, honesty tumbling through like a flood, and then everything would be out on the table, and shit would get DONE.

The apartment is unforgivably quiet and cold.

He's noticing little things you left behind: your nice moisturizer, expensive shampoo, a paper towel holder. He thinks you’re mocking him by leaving bits of you around his place, so he collects them in a bin and waits for you to come retrieve them. But you don't contact him for the first week.

He starts to think maybe you left those things for him. You bought all these things while you were here, forcing him to use them with you:

"Your face is as dry as a desert; you need moisturizer, not body lotion.”

"You can't use a 4 in one hair and body wash!"

"Who the fuck doesn't have a holder for their paper towels?"

It wasn't all just sex when you were here. He remembered coming in to the bathroom when your feet were soaking in the tub, and you explained you were rubbing your calluses off your feet. He joined you, sweats pulled up above his knee as you held him down to get the stone on his crusty feet, the whole time laughing and squirming because it tickled too much. He fell on his ass in the tub desperate to escape your strangely strong grip around his ankle, getting his clothes all wet.

And despite how well he had known you even before your arrangement, he continued to learn new things about you. Like you took night showers, and could only go to bed with your hair in braid. He'd come to see you, agitated in his room all morning, waiting for you to finally wake up so he could distract his craving. He’d walk into the kitchen where you were already cooking him breakfast, slip his arms around your hip, and pull your braids out lovingly to smell scent of your shampoo waft off in waves, closing his eyes and feeling his jitters dissipate, instantly calming him like no other remedy.

Found it funny that you couldn’t use a regular spoon for cereal, always replacing it with a tea spoon because the other ones are “too big” for your mouth to fully close around. A sentiment he suspected to be a load of BS when you had no problem swallowing his cock whole and then gulping down his cum without spilling a drop.

Or when you got red sauce all over the laundry and had to borrow Frankie's shirt to sleep in. He liked that you smelled like him, that it draped over you so pretty, and you'd never wear pants underneath. He'd put you in his lap and make you hold the shirt up with your teeth, showing off your perky tits. His thumb circled your hip bone, large hand clasping your waist to keep you upright while he'd kiss your nipples, and then make you both look down and watch as he rubbed his fingers through your folds, sucking the juices off as he finger fucked you over top him.

He can't help but feel his twitch of his cock stir in his pants at the thought.

Ok. Maybe the sexual parts were a big part—how could they not be? That’s all it was, at first. And he was able to pretend like it was too. But the more time he spent with you. The more time he got to really know you, live with you, breathe you in, unravel you and bind him to you so that you had no sanctuary untouched by him, it was all over before it began.

He sat down with Pope a week after you left:

“You look like shit.”

Frankie grumbled, shrugging it off. He hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten like he used to when you were around. His beard was growing in more patchy and less manicured than before.

“Have you talked to her since?”

“Don’t wanna talk about her tonight.”

Jesus, a broken record with these two, Santi thought. But he knew Fish much better, knew the exact reason why he called him out instead of all the boys together is precisely because he needed to get this off his chest. “She thought you were stressed, needed time. Clearly she was right.”

Frankie’s jaw clenched, teeth grinding so hard that he could form diamonds.

Santi cleared his throat, twirling the ice in his glass casually. “Course, I didn’t tell her you’re head over heels in love with her. Why didn’t you?”

He doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t think he could again. “Imagine how that would have gone? She was crying right there. Right in front of me, BECAUSE of me, after I’d treated her like shit for weeks until her breaking point. Would have given her some fucked up idea that that was my expression of loving her. If I’d said it then, she would never have believed me. Would have ruined everything. Including our friendship.” He pauses, staring down at his rough hands. “She deserves better,” he said weakly, more to convince himself than anyone else.

Santi leans back against the booth. He’d heard the Frankie pity train before, but this was much lower than usual. “And friendship is still good enough for you?”

“I’ll take whatever she’ll give me at this point. I can’t lose her.”

“You can’t? Or don’t want to?”

Frankie thought about that for a while. He had realized too late he didn’t actually still need you. He hadn’t really “craved” cocaine like before. He no longer needed you tending to his every reaction, overly serving his necessities and desires, always a few steps away to brighten his smile, or warm the house with your laughter, your cooking, your terrible taste in movies, all for the sake of keeping him sane and sober.

But damn it all, he still wanted you.

Frankie goes 4 weeks of the hardest withdrawal of his life. You were right, he was getting better at not thinking about cocaine. But without you here, he's more agitated than before. It's not that he craves it now, but rather craves a substitute to get him through your absence.

He's itching for his phone, for the number of his dealer he should have blocked and deleted so long ago.

He shouldn't. It would devastate you. You'd think it's your fault because you weren't here to distract him, only making the whole lie he’s been telling himself that you could still be just friends more abundantly evident. Pushing that useless tale even further, rooting it in your mind.

In truth, it is your fault that his entire happiness is now emotionally and physically tied to you, but he can't really blame you for leaving him since he's the big idiot. He had the entire year to make it right, damned be the consequences of your possible rejection.

He’s clenching his fist at his sides, debating whether to text his dealer. He doesn't even want that shit, at least not the way before. He just wants a distraction from the real aches that you've left behind.

And if he did... wouldn't you come back to him to make it right?

You’re so clear in his mind that doesn't even struggle, doesn't hesitate as he pays the money and carries the little pouch in his hands. He gets back to his apartment with vigorous haste, slamming the door behind him, and sits it on the coffee table, staring.

Even if you don't come back to him, getting just a little bit high would help take his mind off it all. He'd be able to stop thinking about you, even for just the night. Just to get some sleep.

Just to stop feeling.

He shakily tries to undo the tightly sealed bag, but few particle traces catch in his finger tips from outside the plastic, and he instantly wafts the infinitesimal scent of it on his finger tips. He stops, feeling something he's never felt before when staring down at the thing thats caused him so much trouble in his life:

Disgust.

You considered calling Frankie a million times, but how soon was too soon? Would he think you were just desperate to get ate out again? Would he deny you the second you wanted to see him, thinking it was just a booty call again? You had made some stupid choices, like going on a shitty date with a guy you weren’t even interested in, just to get over Frankie, so that you could avoid thinking about how badly you had shattered your friendship.

And going right back to being his friend, which included sharing one of your reckless decisions you make on your own, was one of them. He’d be interested in hearing about it, right?

You dial him up quickly.

You rock back and forth on your heels, unable to sit still.

The phone rings out to voicemail.

He’s never missed a phone call from you. Not even at 2am on a work night. He's never on his phone, and yet still always managed to answer your calls even if it’s on the last ring.

He's just avoiding you again. It's fine. Santi said he'll get over it eventually. That you’ve done enough worrying for him, and need to take care of yourself for a change.

You glance at the key he gave back to you, and not even a moment later, are soon slipping on shoes and heading out the door with it in hand.

You unlock the door and slowly walk in to the familiar layout of Frankie's apartment. It's entirely dark, curtains drawn save for a small crack in the shades. You call out his name tentatively, the eeriness of the place making you anxious. When you see the bathroom light on and door slightly ajar, hearing the rushing sink water running, you sigh relief.

Thank God.

You gently push open the door. "Fish?" You see him, heart skipping a beat at how much thinner, paler he looked now than before, eyes sunk from lack of sleep.

His eyes light up when he sees you, and your heart breaks at how different he looks but STILL has the brightest, softest, loving smile at you.

Your eyes drift down, smile fading, horror quickly overtaking your face at the unopened baggie of white powder sitting at the sink. And his face drops at the realization.

You take one step back, unable to close the gape in your lips, petrified. "Fish—I—holy fuck..."

You had never seen him doing it, never seen him freshly blown high from it. The closest you ever got was what the boys would tell you, or seeing the long aftermath of his crash. They were always first on the scene and quite frankly, ensured you were never the one to find in him these states. You had never been able to mentally prepare to have to handle it now.

"No—no no no! It's not, I didn’t, I didn't! Look—ok it looks like I did but I swear I haven't touched it. It’s still sealed! I’m. I'm dumping it down the toilet."

You don't trust his word, seeing as the bag is here, albeit fully wrapped up, seal unbroken like he said. But here, nonetheless. With him. In front of you with no denial that it was his.

He gets on his knees and wraps his arms around your waist. “Please don’t leave me. I didn’t want you to leave the first time…”

“And it’s taking you being high right now to admit that?!”

I’m not high, seriously. Check me.” You peer down closer, and aside from his rampant heart beating against your leg and big round eyes, there’s no trace of smell or lingering white powder anywhere on him. But you’re hesitant.

“I bought it but then realized It wasn’t what I really wanted…”

He licks his lips quickly, his brown eyes pleading up to you, biceps flexing against your ribcage.

Your chest is pounding, the encasing feeling of Frankie refusing to let you back away making you feel like a trapped rabbit.

“Please believe me,” he breathes.

"Your eyes are dilated as fuck Frankie!"

"That's because of you!"

You both hold your breath, a pregnant silence ringing in the air.

“I—I’m. Um. I meant." His eyes trail off sheepishly as a warm blush takes over his face.

He stands up, rubbing the back of his head. He can tell you’re patiently waiting for him to get over his blubbering awkwardness so he can explain properly. To find the words he’s combing his brain for. And find them he did:

"I miss you, Querida.”

He breathes slowly, time catching up and suddenly stopping.

You glance toward the bag, still fearful that he had gotten to this point while you were gone. “Frankie. I’m—I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. For your needs—“

“I don’t need you to fix me. I haven’t craved that shit for a while, still don’t even now. I just wanted you here with me.” He snatches the baggie and chucks it in the toilet, immediately flushing it.

You want to say that might not be great for the plumbing, but Frankie’s hands are on yours, holding them securely to his chest. “I just want you. I should have said it before you walked away. Should’ve said it a year ago, when I knew I didn’t want to pretend this was just some—some drug replacement.” He goes quieter. “I didn’t want this to be nothing. I thought when we had sex, maybe you’d feel the same, but you didn’t—”

“I was afraid about what would happen to you If our dynamic changed, Fish. I was worried it was just another high. So I tried to make things go back to how they were since it seemed to be working so well for you before,” you rambled. He can see the shininess in your eyes, feel how your body is no longer resisting him and instead, cradling his neck with affection, empathy, nurture, all the things he’d been depraved of for weeks. “But then it made everything worse and I didn’t know what to do—“

He cut you off, as if suddenly things didn’t line up. ”Why did you come back?"

You lick your lips, eyes unable to meet his. “Well I called, and you didn't answer. And I wanted to check up on you, and tell you... um—I mean I always tell you about… I went on a date, my first one in over a year."

Frankie's eyes blankly drift lower, down to your feet, his arms retreating. He takes an awkward step back. "How... how did it go?" He asks slowly, feeling the distance between the two of you growing again.

You throw your hands up in the air, unable to express yourself. “He was…Handsome. Funny. Charming. Paid for me, made me feel pretty, treated me real good—“

He nodded, unable to bring his eyes anywhere else but back to the back on the sink as he listened. “S’good. That’s what you deserve,” he says, jaw tensing.

“Yeah. Yeah it is what I deserve.” You pause, here goes everything. “Except the whole time, I hated the fact that he was nothing like you."

Frankie’s attention darts back to you as you cup his scruffy face in your hands. "You're irritable, and sassy, and needy and clingy, and you pout when you don't get what you want. And you don't listen to me or stop when I tell you to stop—“

A roasting fest? Now?? “OK, That's, Jesus, I get it—“

"And I love all those things about you.” You hold his gaze, feeling his breath seize in his chest. “And I miss being here. I miss waking up with you every morning, and your smug face being the last I see before I go to sleep. And it took me until after I left to realize how I actually felt about you. This whole year with you has felt like this perfect—“

"High?"

Your brows furrow shyly. “I didn’t want to put it that way, for obvious reasons. But fuck it. Yes. I don’t—I don’t wanna let that go.”

His fingers tense around your waist, almost begging you to say it, spill it out for him and don’t hold back ever again.

“You got me addicted to you, Francisco."

You aren't aware of how fast he moves, his hands grabbing your neck as he smashes his lips to yours. Your heart is beating out of your chest when he sucks every breath from you, barely separating from your lips to utter "I've waited—so long—for you—“ He hoists you up on his waist and brushes out of the bathroom with your legs wrapped securely around him, his kiss hot and full of passion the entire time. "Wanted you since you first let me have a taste of you.” He slams you on the bed, the familiarity of you two being in this exact situation settles on you. “Wanted you to want me. Want more.”

He continues to engulf your lips with his, his moans vibrating against your tongue. "I shouldn’t—“ he hastily bites your lip with a grunt “—shouldn't have pushed you away—treated you so bad.” He pauses his assault. “I was so scared you didn't want me like that. Couldn't handle pretending I could be okay with it.”

You place your hands on his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart matching yours. "Frankie, I want you."

"Good," he smiles, leaning up to remove his shirt over his shoulders. You whine at the sight. Draping himself over you, his lips never leave your body as he kisses down your chest then back to your lips. You’re unable to bring yourself to action as his body dictates both of your moves.

You feel his bulge pressing painfully against your core, eliciting an obscene moan from your throat. "Frankie—Let me take care—“

"No. Fuck no. I'm taking care of you tonight. And tomorrow, and every fuckin’ day after," he growls.

He kisses you once again but then slowly backs away. "Um, if... if you want that."

He feels your hand tangle in the hair behind his neck as you bring his face back to yours, teeth clashing for dominance. "I want it," you whisper, sucking his lower lip and biting it possessively.

His jaw hitches. “Prove it."

You unbutton your pants, taking his large hand and guiding it down your panties in haste. His digits make contact between your folds, the two of you sighing.

"Oh f-fuck. You want this, don't you?"

"Want you so bad, Frankie. It fucking hurts.”

His fingers dont leave your dripping cunt, spreading your slick around your swollen clit. His other rips your string underwear off with incredible strength. He then helps push your shirt over your head, and you immediately unclasp your bra. Frankie growls lowly at the sight of your perky breasts bouncing from their release. "Fuck, I missed these.” His mouth wraps around as much fat of your tit he could before biting, making you lurch.

“I—I’m not gonna be slow—I wanted to—“

"Jesus Fish, I don’t care, just take me!"

He plunges two of his thick digits into your soaking heat, making your back arch off the bed. He takes the opportunity to suck a nipple back into his mouth, half his body hovering over you to keep your form perfectly positioned between his mouth and fingers. They teasingly thrust in and out slowly from your hole, intentionally dragging out his torture against you. "So mean to me, baby." His teeth nip at your nipple with a smug grin. "Takin’ my sweet little pussy away from me like that. I barely touched you and you're absolutely soaked. Were you wet on your way here?"

"Frankie I haven't... haven't been able to get off in weeks."

"How long?"

You moan out loud, eyes rolling back as your brain turns to mush. Your hand tries to guide his wrist faster but he slaps it away, continuing his teasing ministrations.

"Answer me!"

"Since the last time you touched me!" You cry.

He haults his movements.

The girl who bragged about cumming an average of 6 times a day just grinding on a pillow, now telling him she hasn't been able to orgasm in a month, because of him.

Ohhhhhhh fuuuuccccckkkkkfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. “That why you went on your little date, huh?"

You nod shamefully.

"Did you fuck him?"

You whine, eyes burrowing in confusion that he still expected you have coherent thoughts while he had you in this compromising position, teetering on the brink of your much needed orgasm.

"Your date.” He repeats, his wrist slowing down entirely. “Did. You. Fuck. Him."

“No—no! I didn’t even let him kiss me goodnight. Couldn't even get wet for him, that's how bad—Frankie, fuck! please!—bad you've got me fucked up."

He speeds up his hands, satisfied with your confessions. They are thrusting perfectly in and out at record speeds as his jaw clenched around your tit, watching your eyes roll back as your first orgasm in WEEKS overwhelms you fast. You’re shaking violently, legs desperate to close but Frankie pries them open with his strong hand, continuing to dominate your cunt with his incessant fingers.

You feel something else coming as he continues to ram his wrist against you, fingers digging so deep, curling so effortlessly that you can’t stop the gush of liquid squirting out of you. “Oh shit, oh fuckfuckFUCK that’s it! That’s my girl, holy fuck yeah—yeah keep going, Cariño, so fucking good.” He continues to finger fuck you repeatedly, working you through it as your pussy continues to contract and release your spend.

You hardly have time to process your embarrassment as he's shifting below your hips, throwing your thighs over shoulder and giving your soaked pussy a longing look. Your clit twitches excitedly. Cool air is blown on it, making you fist his hair harder. He presses his large nose into you, inhaling your scent like bloodhound, growling like a man possessed at the sticky coating. "I fucking missed you, Hermosa," he groans, and his mouth latched right on to your pulsing cunt. You gasp, hands fisting his hair as he rolls your overstimulated clit with his tongue, jaw opening wide to practically swallow your pussy whole, sucking away everything you're giving him.

Whether he was talking to you or your pussy, it didn’t really matter to you. All you could process was the rough feeling of his fat tongue and scruffy face rubbing perfectly between your legs as Frankie got reacquainted with his former addiction. "FrankieFrankieFranke-ohFUCK!"

You can’t stop him, can’t even warn him as the overstimulation send you into a fit of gasps, cumming again, legs squeezing his head as painful pleasure courses through you. His upper back is littered in your scratches, the red marks raising his skin like tiger stripes.

You're struggling to catch your breath with ragged moans. He slows his licks to draw it out, letting your spasms pass. His sinful, lidded eyes have never left your face, absorbing every reaction from you, committing it to memory.

"You really have neglected this poor pussy," he teases, kissing your clit as his fingers begin to spread your glistening folds once again.

You can only nod, arms covering your face as he starts to rub the pad of his thumb on your swollen nub again. “It’s—not as good—unless it’s you.”

He grits his teeth in satisfaction. “S’okay. M’ gonna take care of you now. Gonna fuck you real soon."

You whine when he pushes his fingers back in to your tight heat.

"And then, when I’m done fucking you—We're gonna fuck again," he laughs.

You’re a bit frightened with how he’s looking at you: like he’s fucking possessed by a hungry, malicious demon.

He makes you cum on his fingers again, then his lips, then both at once. He’s pinning you down so harshly, you have no choice but to take the endless barrage of orgasms he’s forcing from you, almost as if he’s trying to make up for the time you two have been apart.

By the time his tastebuds are content, he brings himself back up to you, messily kissing your lips so you taste yourself, his beard and stache now soaked in your cum and rubbing along your chin.

You gasp when you feel his hard cock sliding along your folds. He rolls his hips against you, your copious slick letting him glide effortlessly, tip nudging your clit.

“Frankie,” you warn, unable to handle his teasing now.

He grabs the base of his dick. “Beg. Beg me for it,” He commands with a godly voice you’d never heard him use before. He slaps the underside of his throbbing member repeatedly against your pussy with a taptaptaptap. “Tell me you want it.”

You don’t care for the fat tears spilling down your cheeks as you whine like a bitch in heat. “Fuckyou, Frankie,” you seethe, anger building with your desperation. “I fucking want it, want it so bad, want you to ruin me, please, Fish, fucking please put it in already!”

He grins, big and sadistic as he watches your face contort with the first push of his tip into your wetness. “Oh F—“ he breathes, eyes closing as your tight walls do their best to accomodate his size.

Your eyesight is blurry, waves of pleasure rolling throughout your entire body, delirious as he bottoms out. Where he belongs. Where he’s always meant to be.

He presses his forehead to you as his hips start rutting.

He’s hardly fucked you for a few seconds, but the pressure building inside of you, desperate for this moment again after months, isn’t giving you a choice to savor it. “Fish—fuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK! ‘M not gonna last!"

He growls excitedly, driving his cock more harshly into you, reaching that special spot he’s decided is only his to abuse. “It’s okay, babygirl. You cum for me. You're always so good at it."

And you are, you really are. “OH FUCK FRANKIE!” You scream. Your body agreeing with him so much that your abrupt orgasm squeezes around him so hard, his movements stop altogether.

“Oh shit—“ he hisses, your pussy greedily milking the cum right out of him. He only pauses for a moment, shaking over you for a moment as his first orgasm subsides before his hips are moving of their own accord, his cum forced out with each thrust.

“Keep goin’, pretty thing. Give me more,” he grunts.

You nod deliriously, eyes rolled to the back of your skull as he pounds your battered puussy.

He pulls out, the sudden withdrawal making you whine with emptiness. He sinks to his knees again, yanking your knees up to your chest. Your pussy twitches, his cum spilling out and sinking down your ass.

He lets out of primal groan from the back of his throat before smashing his mouth on your cunt, sucking your clit and tongue fucking your hole like a cream filled pastry. You feel the descending bob of his Adam’s apple against your rear as he swallows the mixture of your cum, drinking it like liquid life from the source. “We taste—so—fucking—good, Princesa,” he taunts, tongue lapping your little clit in quick succession before shaking his head back and forth aggressively against your mound, smearing the obscene mixture across your folds and making a mess.

Oh fuck, he’s so gone.

He quickly gets on his knees, turning you over on your stomach like you weigh nothing. His hands grip around your hips, bringing them flush against his crotch again as you arch your back for him. He puts his palm on the small of your back, keeping you right there, pressed tight against him as his cock slides back into your eager and cum coated cunt.

“Fuck yeah,” he groans, setting a faster pace this time. You hadn't realized just how much Frankie was holding back the first time you had sex. He leans over your body, hands splayed past your shoulders, fisting the bed as he rails you deep, his thighs crashing against you with harsh slaps. Your temple lands against his cheek, meeting eye contact. He smiles, breath caught in his throat like running a mile at your fucked out expression.

He continues to fuck you like an animal. A soft hand grips your chin lovingly, tilting your head further back so his lips meet yours with each punishing grind. You’re surprised by how much you love the hold he has on you, willingly submitting to him without being told. Drunk on each other’s lust.

You suck greedily around his tongue, hand reaching behind the two of you to play with his soft brown curls, refusing to let him leave your mouth. He stutters with a few more thrusts before halting, eyes scrunched closed. “AUUGHHH—haaaahh!” You feel the twitch of him inside you, draining his balls some more of his plentiful seed.

“Fuck, fuck I love it when you cum inside me!” You confess. The action makes you fall forward, mouth burying into his pillows as you muffle your own cry of your release again.

He pulls out of you and flops to the bed. You think maybe he is done, after having cum twice now, bur Frankie is quick to bring you to straddle him, his dick never once softening as it presses incessantly to your entrance again. He licks his lips, watching his cum spill down your thighs, right to his creamy cock that refuses to fully part from you.

“Frankie,” you moan, unsure if you can take him again.

“Want you just like this. Ride me,” he breathes. He’s covered in sweat, out of breath and shaking with a mix of exhaustion and adrenaline if it were possible. His hands gently wrap around your waist as he guides you. Eyes so lidded, transfixed on the area where your mound slowly swallows him again.

You’re nodding, body taking over all actions, completely starved for the man under you.

He leans up to get a good look at you, taking it slow, burning this in head to remember.

"Thought about you... everyday.” He whispers, mouth parted in lust, gliding your hips along with steady rolls. “Couldn't sleep."

His hands down along the curve of your ass, to your thighs spread out over him, before rubbing up the length of your back, holding you as close to him as he can possibly bring you, your tits pressing against his chest. He struggles to breathe evenly as your creamy pussy continues to tighten around him each time he breaches you, the two of you moaning softly into each others’ open mouths. He occasionally catches your lips, slotting perfectly as you grind against him.

His mouth finds its way back down to your pebbled nipple, biting gently before kissing it better. He brings his face back to yours. “So perfect for me,” he whispers.

You start grinding on him more fervently, lifting yourself on your knees ever slightly and baring down on him. He grits his teeth, sinking further down into the bed, eyes never leaving you as his digs his nails into the meat of your hips, forcing you to bounce harder.

“That’s it, baby. Ride me just like that. MY girl, my beautiful girl.”

You bite your lips, feelings your clit catch on his public hairs. The sloppy squelching of his cum being driven out of your heat by his thick cock is no match to the heavenly sounds you were making atop him. The vein in his neck strains like he’s suffocating himself from air, refusing to slow down, to take a break, to let go for even just a moment.

“More. Give me more,” you moan, confidence soaring as you feel him begin to meet your hips with every thrust. “I want all of you, Frankie.”

He shouts out, lifting you up, his feet digging into mattress as he fucks you from below. “Fuck, fuck!”

You want to throw your head back, ride out this high, but the dangerous allure of him watching you brings your focus down to him, watching the way the two of you are getting off to the other falling apart.

“Just like this. You n’ me. Want it just like this. Forever.” He mumbles repeatedly, ragged pants uneven as he fills you the way you had been unknowingly wanting for months.

You feel the build of your umpteenth orgasm building in your lower tummy. “Frankie-F-Franke! I’m—I’m gonna—“

“Do it, Querida, do it f-for me.” He thinks he can starve off the low build of his third orgasm of the night, just enough to make you cum for him once more.

You feel the heavy knot in your stomach snap. With absolutely no hesitation, no doubt behind your word, you cry out, “I love you!” as you cum harder than any time before.

Lifting you both practically off the bed, Frankie’s hips seize, pressed so tightly against yours there was no room between you. He shouts loudly, animalistic, snarling with his teeth baring at you and 0 control left in him, immediately emptying his load deep inside with each heavy pulse of his cock against your cervix, painting your walls white with the last of his cum that his balls could give you.

You collapse on top of him, the two of you sucking air like you were underwater for years. Neither of you say anything, covered in sweat and cum, but finally being able to relax from the pent up release that’s been building there far longer than it ever should have been.

His hand rests against your lower back, somehow pressing your naked body closer to his.

“I love you,” you whisper again to his collarbone. He brings your eyes to his, and this time he knows you mean it.

Frankie wakes to a cold bed.

His arm reaches out subconsciously for your body, but only feels cool empty sheets at his side. His eyes fly open, head sitting upright as he scans his bedroom. There's no sign of you. None of your clothes are scattered on the floor, no immediate trace of your scent. He feels a strong pain in his chest suffocating and stabbing him all at once.

He lies back flat on his pillow, fingers rubbing his forehead. He has two thoughts: the first thought, the one he'd rather think is true, is that it was all dream. You hadn't come home to him.

Before he could bring himself to consider the pain of the second thought, the fear is instantly squashed when he hears the door creak open, your sweet soft smile and gentle eyes landing on him.

‘Hiiiii,” you whisper in a singsong, gentle morning voice. Tip toeing bare foot on the hardwood floor, he see’s you’re dressed in nothing but one of Frankies slightly torn over sized, faded band T shirts that swallows your body. Your bed head still evident, eyes baggy yet happy from the events of last night.

He didn't realize he had held his breath the moment before you walked in, afraid that rather than having dreamt it all, that it did happen, and you had left him anyway.

"I made you tea," you hummed, setting the two cups down by his bedside table.

Your ears go red at the image of him: sheet pulled half way up his hip, his bare chest and torso visible as he props himself up with his elbows to get a good look at you. And the WAY he's looking at you, like you’re the only thing that matters in the world, has you sheepishly avoiding his big brown pupils, sliding in to the covers and nuzzling your head against his shoulder.

He wraps his arms around you, unwilling to let you sneak off again. “Don’t wake up before me like that again.”

You giggle. “Frankie, it’s 4 in the afternoon.”

He checks his digital clock by the bed, true to your word. You both had fucked so hard, so long last night that he didn’t even realize it was well into the morning by the time you had drifted to sleep.

He lies back down in bed, encircling you to him again. He can more clearly see the damage of last night’s episode on you: bite marks along your tits, hickies against your inner thighs and swollen lips. he doesn’t even need to touch your pussy, feeling its puffy soreness pressing against his leg. He kisses you gently yet passionately this morning, cradling your head so you can’t back away. Not that you want to—he doesn’t feel any resistance in your movements as you devour his lips.

“I love you,” he says clearly. He can feel the way your breath hitches, the blush on your cheeks at the confession. “I love you, and I’m so sorry it took me so long to say it. I’m sorry I caused you so much confusion and I—“

“Okay, Fish. It’s okay. I know.” You bite your lip, pushing your hand against his chest so that he’s lying down on his back. “But I’m not sure I forgive you just yet.”

A brief moment of confusion wracks his face before you’re clambering on top of him again, your naked lower body straddling his under the sheet. You fist the t shirt of your head, letting your soft supple breasts fall. Frankie immediately grabs them tenderly with both of his warm hands, his breath quickening. His length twitches, hard as a rock and pressing right against his lower stomach as you glide your slick folds along him.

“I think you should keep making it up to me.” You align the tip of his throbbing cock against your swollen entrance and sink down, hands seeking purchase on his chest, scratching the skin there as he fills your sore cunt, taking him down to the hilt in one go.

You let out the tiniest, sexiest whimper, and Frankie is ready to drop everything he’s ever owned just to hear it again. So smitten with you, he’s grinning harder than he has his entire life. Like a big dumb idiot.

Your big dumb idiot.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Querida: I love you.”

Tagging people who either requested a part 2/3 or directly requested to be tagged. At least what i can remember (sorry if I missed you!)

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#pedro pascal smut #frankie morales smut #frankie catfish morlaes smut #catfish morales smut #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier smut #triple frontier fanfiction #catfish morales x reader #catfish morales #francisco morales smut #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #triple frontier fic

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stargirlrchive · 4 months

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This is Simon and his daughter when she wants to do dance and has one of those recitals where the child’s parent dances with them. He gladly walks up there with his little princess and does the dance with her. And obviously you would be recording the entire thing to watch over and over.

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPRc6C9tc/

this made me ascend out of my body !! and i word-vomited a little

like you’re a little hesitant to bring up to simon that there’s a father-daughter dance because you know it would break his heart if he couldn’t make it. and when you do bring it up, he’s so quiet.

you can see the cogs turning in his brain, the turmoil he’s feeling clear as day in his eyes before he’s blinking and it’s gone. giving you a small nod and mumbling something along the lines of ‘i’ll make it work.’

you don’t hear much about it after that. especially because the week practices are starting he gets deployed. you’ve honestly thought he’s forgotten all about it.

so for father-daughter practice you show up, not wanting to let your little girl feel left out.

weeks of practice go on, and you’ve both gotten the steps down. you’re so happy that your little girl doesn’t seem to be too bummed out that simon won’t be able to make it. she understands, even at such a young age, that dad’s got an important job!

but unexpectedly on week three, little riley’s ballet teacher comes up to you beaming. “i’m glad to hear mr. riley was finally able to get the recordings i sent over.”

and you’re so confused because you have no idea what she’s talking about. you hadn’t been able to speak to simon since a few days after he left. but as she explains that simon had asked her to send over a video of the routine so he could practice while away, your heart warms. tears pooling at your waterline as you give her a watery smile and bid your goodbye.

it’s about half an hour later that you’re both home and you get a facetime call from simon. instantly little riley is reaching for the phone and babbling away over all the things she’s done since he’s been gone.

reluctantly passing you the phone when simon asks to speak to mama. your eyes tracing over his masked face, smiling softly as you remember his hidden features. your heart lurching in your chest because you miss him so terribly.

“so, you’ve been practicing.”

the way he scratches at the back of his neck, you know he’s blushing under the mask. a bright smile blooming on your face as he nods.

“ask’d johnny to stand in h’r place to get the movements right.”

and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of your throat, “gaz ‘nd capt’n been giving me pointers, but i’ve got most of it down.”

you sigh softly, just hearing him speak makes your heart thrum in pure happiness. but as your eyes flicker over to your daughter, you feel it plummet.

“m’not gonna tell her you’ve been learning the dance. it’ll get her hopes up and i don’t want her to be disappointed if you can’t make it.”

“i will be there.”

the conviction in his voice causes the sadness swirling in your chest to simmer down because you know he will.

but it’s only the day before the recital that simon gets back home. your daughter clinging to him desperately the whole day.

babbling excitedly about how he’s gonna be home to see her and mama perform. you both decided to let her find out it would be simon dancing with her until she was on stage.

which you are then sitting front row, camera ready and already recording as your little girls brows furrow in confusion as she sees you sitting in the seats. but before she can think too much about it, simon is coming out from the side of the stage, dressed in all black, a black tutu and a simple black balaclava.

the smile on your daughter’s face is the brightest you’ve ever seen and you have to force down the tears that are threatening to fall.

before the music starts you see little riley tugging on his arm, and after simon bends down to hear her, he barks out a laugh. your daughter’s giggles filling the room before the music starts and they start dancing.

her eyes shining brighter and brighter because her dad knew the dance. and caught her anytime her slippery shoes slid a little too much on the stage.

when she’s finally able to get back to you, she’s bolting into your arms. her words jumbled and excited over the fact that she got to dance with her dad, just like all her other little friends.

and when she finally calms down, simon is wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer as he presses a kiss to your temple and you can feel how fucking happy he is.

“what did she tell you before the performance started?”

a warbled noise left his mouth, his eyes full of mirth as he tried so hard not to laugh, “she asked me to not step on her cause mommy always does.”

#i want to give him a baby :(#simon riley #simon riley x reader #call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #pdfs.

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happy74827 · 7 months

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No Ordinary Life

[Sam Riordan x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: The group had almost ran out of options on what to do with Sam, but Andre had decided there was still one more option to explore. And that option, was you. (GIF credits: @heronamedhawks)

WC: 1,179

Category: Slight Fluff, Slight Angst

We don’t know much about Sam as of right now, but I do know I would literally die for this boy. He and Emma really deserve the world, and they fr better have their happy ending (which seems impossible given the universe they live in, but one can hope). This definitely deserves a part 2, depending how well it goes, but for now enjoy the purity that is Sam.

Edit(2023): Hey I finally made the part 2, check it out here

『••✎••』

As Sam walked down the bustling halls of Godolkin, he couldn't help but feel like an outsider. All around him, kids with extraordinary powers, kids like him, were chatting, laughing, and walking to their classes. They were able to use their gifts freely and openly, and they were respected by others for it, but Sam didn't have that luxury. Honestly, he couldn’t remember a time that he did.

All he remembered was the woods, his brother, and the constant pain of being hunted.

His hand unconsciously traveled to top of his head, pulling the hoodie that Emma had lent over to him farther over his face as he tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible. It wasn't easy when the hallway was completely crowded by nosy students, but he did his best. That’s all he could really do.

Emma and Marie (as he found her name to be) were by his side, protecting him for the skewing eyes of others. For the most part it worked, except it drawn more attention to her due to that odd system that Emma had acknowledged him about. A rating, whatever that was.

It was cool to know that his brother had been ranked number one, though.

If Luke was still… No, don’t think about it, Sam.

He shook his head, ridding himself of that train of thought. There was no point in dwelling on the past, and thinking about his brother wouldn’t change anything. He was gone, and Sam was left alone.

His thoughts were interrupted by Jordan, who he was still slightly confused about. He? She? They? They seemed to have been good friends with his brother and they were friendly enough, so Sam didn’t really question the matter too much.

Plus, he kinda enjoyed the subtle sarcasm that Jordan would once in a while use. It made him feel like a kid back in school. So for that, Sam was thankful.

“Dude, this has got to be the stupidest thing we’ve ever done,” Jordan had said, turning to the guy walking besides them… Andre. Sam didn’t know what to make of him, or anyone really. He had always been so closed off from other people, that now it was almost a bit overwhelming.

But at least he had Emma, so he didn't have to worry about the social aspect too much.

Andre gave Jordan a sideways look, a small smirk on his face. He seemed pretty chill too.

“Listen, I don’t like this anymore than you do, Jordan,” Andre stated, shoving his hands in his pockets. “But with everything happening, and with Cate… this is our best option.”

“Yes, let’s bring the kid with a bounty over his head into the place where they’re all going to be looking for him. Great idea, Andre. Seriously, how did I not think of it first. Soooo smart of you, dude. Good job. I'm so glad we're friends, really I am.”

Jordan rolled their eyes, and Andre just looked away in annoyance. Then, to Sam’s dismay, an awkward silence fell over the group. Once again, Sam was struck by just how different his life was now. It was like he was suddenly thrown into another world, and he had no idea how to function in it. He was so far out of his comfort zone that he couldn’t even see the zone.

Sam glanced over to Emma, and saw her smiling encouragingly at him. He tried his best to return the gesture, but he felt like his face muscles were going to fall off if he forced them any longer.

After what seemed like hours, but really only a couple minutes, Andre halted in front of a random dorm room door, and turned to face the group. He sighed, his face set into a look of grim determination. Then, he knocked.

Three times, Sam counted. Three knocks.

The door opened almost immediately after, and the man who answered had to be the most handsome human being Sam had ever seen. He had short black hair, a sharp jaw, and a dazzling smile. It was actually kind of intimidating.

“Whadda’ want?” the man asked, his voice a rich baritone. Sam didn't know why, but it felt like the man was judging him. His eyes scanned over the group, lingering on Sam for just a second, before returning back to Andre.

Andre cleared his throat, a bit nervously, but he didn’t get a chance to speak as Jordan scoffed, shoving past the man and into the room. Emma followed, giving the man an apologetic look as she did. And thus, everyone followed, leaving the man alone and bewildered in the doorway.

Once everyone was settled inside, the man shut the door and leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest. He glared at Andre, his eyes burning holes through his head, but Sam didn’t pay any attention towards him anymore. All his eyes were on the strange girl in front of him, you.

You were sitting on the floor, legs crossed and a bored expression on your face. Your eyes were half lidded, and you seemed to be lost in your own little world. Andre had mentioned you, a little. Said that you were the person he had called earlier, that you would help them figure out what to do with Sam, and that you knew and could a lot of stuff. But he had never told them how gorgeous you were.

Your hair was down, and looked so soft that Sam just wanted to touch it, run his fingers through it, and feel the texture. You had a cute little button nose, and a round, chubby face that was just too adorable. And your eyes were so expressive, a mixture of colors that swirled and shone and sparkled in the light.

Andre had called your attention and you snapped out of it, blinking a few times before glancing up at him. It was then that you noticed the others, and you stared at them all, wide eyed and open mouthed, but that was quickly replaced with a smile.

“Hi, Andre! Wow, you must be Jordan… Marie… and Emma? Right? Oh, and you must be the kid Andre talked about, oh my gosh. It's so nice to finally meet you all. Sorry I didn’t say anything when you came in, I was just finishing up this thing for Kota. Oh, Kota! You're still here… hi. Wait, why are you all here? You weren’t supposed to be here until 2:00, and it's only-”

You looked down at the watch on your wrist, your eyes widening even more when you realized the time. You had been talking so fast that no one had been able to get a word in edgewise, but you had managed to finish what you had to say, and it was all so rushed that it was hard to keep up.

The only thing Sam could focus on was how despite all of that rambling and mumbling, you were still keeping that bright smile that never seemed to falter. A truly happy supe? He never thought it would exist. Even Emma, as sweet and pretty as she was, tended to falsify the smiles she had. Sam only saw her real one about three times. He cherished them, of course. Every single one.

You stood up, brushing yourself off and fixing your clothes, and walked over to them. Your hand was outstretched, and your smile was radiant. Sam could practically feel the happiness radiating off of you.

You looked so innocent, so sweet and pure. He could hardly believe that you were a supe, but the fact that they were all standing here said otherwise. You had power, and you knew how to use it.

Jordan and Marie seemed to have recovered from their daze, and the two shook your hand after Andre. Marie had even introduced herself, and it ended with you in giggles, telling her that you already had known her name.

Emma was next, and she had taken your hand immediately and shook it.

Then it was just him that was left.

He stood frozen, staring down at your outstretched hand. He could feel all the eyes in the room on him, and he just knew that his hood was starting to slip.

His instincts were yelling at him, screaming at him to run. To get out of there and stay far, far away from you. From everyone.

But he couldn’t.

So, instead of fleeing, he slowly, cautiously took your hand in his. It was small, warm, and fit perfectly.

You smiled again but this time it was strictly for him, because of him, and it made his heart beat just a bit faster.

He didn’t even realize it until your smile has widened, but he had pulled down his hood, letting you see his face. He didn't understand why he did, and a part of him wanted to pull the fabric right back over his face, but it was too late now.

The damage had been done.

Sam didn’t have a chance to scrape off the dried blood off his cheeks, another result of an accidental outburst, and he could feel your eyes rake over his face, taking in every single detail.

But it wasn’t judgmental, or critical.

No, there was something else in those swirling eyes of yours, and it was then that he noticed the little flecks of gold hidden in the sea of color.

Sam was a bit embarrassed, to say the least, and he tried to pull his hand away but your grip only tightened, and he didn't have the strength to resist. He felt your hand go up his arm, unraveling the hoodie that clung to him like a second skin.

The others didn’t seem to do anything as you pulled the material above his elbow.

Your eyes roamed over the scar that stretched across his forearm, and he knew what was coming before the words even left your mouth.

Sam couldn’t bring himself to look at you as you asked the dreaded question, and his eyes were glued to the floor.

It was Emma who answered, her voice barely a whisper.

Sam despised the pity in your tone. The last thing he wanted was to be pitied. He didn't need or want anyone's pity. He was fine. Everything was fine.

The silence shattered as you took a sharp breath, but Sam couldn't bring himself to look at you. Not when he knew the look of pity in your eyes.

You released his arm, the hoodie dropping to the ground, but Sam didn't even register it. He stood there, frozen, as you slowly reached out your hand towards his face.

"Before I do anything, I want to warn you so it doesn't scare you. Is that okay with you? I just... I want to make sure you're alright. But if you don't want me to touch you, I won't. I'll respect your boundaries. Just tell me, okay?"

Sam blinked, his head tilting upwards, his eyes wide with surprise. There was no pity in your eyes. No negativity or degradation. Only a gentle concern and kindness that he had only experienced in these past few days.

Your touch was tender, and he felt a warmth spread across his face. He couldn't bring himself to deny you. So he nodded, and a small smile appeared on your face. It was still a smile, but a different kind. One he had never seen from you before. And once again, that smile was meant just for him.

Suddenly, the lights in the room dimmed, capturing Sam's attention. He hadn't noticed before, but the entire room was filled with interconnected lights, forming a grid-like pattern. They began to glow, pulsating and shifting with each passing moment. The light danced across the walls, creating mesmerizing shapes.

Sam was captivated by the whole process. And then, the lights suddenly stopped, freezing in place. Sam expected them to return to their normal brightness, but they grew brighter and brighter. It was then that he noticed your hands. They were no longer touching him, but rather, they hovered above him, palms facing his face. A peculiar expression settled on your face.

Sam didn't know what it meant, but he didn't have time to wonder because, in an instant, your hands transformed into light. It wasn't like beams shooting out of your palms, but rather, golden particles that flowed around your body and traveled along the lights, intensifying their brightness. Patterns began to form and move.

Sam watched in awe as the shapes transformed into pictures and scenes. The colors melted and shifted together. Light filled the room, washing away the world around him, leaving only the vibrant colors, the images, and your face.

Your face, so close to his. The smile still adorned your lips, and your eyes shone like stars, the brightest things in the room. Sam could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Reluctantly, he admitted that the light was beautiful, just like you.

It was the most extraordinary sight he had ever witnessed. It was as if the sun had exploded, its light spreading across the room. The colors danced along the walls, forming vivid images. Sam saw a field, a house, a family. He saw his old friends. He saw him. His brother, Luke.

Sam's face crumpled, and a sob escaped his throat. Tears blurred his vision, but they were absorbed by the light, vanishing as soon as they fell. You remained a silent observer, watching over him as the colors gradually faded, and the world returned.

The room was as bright as before, but everything was the same. Sam could still see the concern and worry etched on your face. You reached up to wipe away his tears, but this time he flinched back, and the contact never happened. Your hands fell to your sides.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and your lips trembled, trying to hold back your emotions. But a tear escaped, rolling down your cheek. Andre cleared his throat, breaking the spell. Both you and Sam turned to face the others.

They were all watching, expressions of shock and confusion on their faces, except for Jordan, who wore a mask of indifference.

Andre and Emma stared at you, mouths agape, while Sam saw the tears in your eyes, the fear evident on your face.

Of what, he couldn’t tell. As of right now, there were so many things you could be scared of. With The Woods, being the thing that contains most of it all, It was hard to pinpoint one specific reason.

Then, just like before, Andre's voice cracked as he decided to interrupt Sam’s thoughts.

"What the hell was that?"

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lyak12 · 1 month

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Food Poisoning

A/N: I've read a few days ago that our one and only Lucy Bronze played with food poisoning in the 2015 world cup quarter finals... I haven't been able to stop thinking about it, and @helen-with-an-a and I have been talking this through for a good while, haha. I mean, Lucy is basically super human at this point, but I still had to rewrite it. It takes place at the semi-finals of the last World Cup and I'm really putting Sarina on the spot here and making her a bit of the bad guy... I just want to clarify that I don't have anything against her. I just needed a bad guy and she happened to be there. Also you're in for a long one, we're talking almost 7k... my longest one yet. I hope you like it though and thanks again for the help @helen-with-an-a 💕

w/c: almost 7k

Warnings: Throwing up, pain, a bit of Angst and arguments

It is the world cup and you won the quarter finals. Tomorrow is the big day. The semi finals. It's not your first world cup but you're still a bit anxious. You want to win this. You want this not only for the team but especially for Lucy. She finally deserves the world cup title.

Tomorrow however were the semifinals and they were at least just as important if not more than the final itself.

Lucy and you have been dating for a while and it's openly known in the team but that also means during tournaments you usually get diffrent roommates. Which neither of you mind since you're there to play football not to share a room. You're currently sharing a room with Leah and you love it. You two get along so well.

As you wake up that morning the nerves in your belly are already building. You're an early bird so you're getting up before Leah and take your time in the bathroom. You're also always the first to text your girlfriend good morning.

Today however instead if receiving a good morning back LJ, Lucy's roomie, texted you if you're awake already. You immediately text back, wondering why she's texting you this early but with the next message you understood why.

'I don't know what's wrong but Lucy is not feeling great. She didn't want me to text you but I think you'd want to know and come check on her' - LJ texts

'I'll be right there' - you immediately text back and grab your stuff before jogging over to their room. LJ lets you in and you ask "What's wrong?" However Lauren doesn't even have to answer as you hear Lucy throwing up in the bathroom. You quickly throw your things on the bed before making your way into the bathroom.

"Shh, it's okay. I got you, love", you say as you gather her hair that fell out of the bun and start to rub her back. She just retches again before she coughs and says "I told LJ not to text you." "Yeah well, I'm glad she did. Are you done?", you ask softly and she just nods. You help her up and guide her to the sink as you flush the toilet.

Looking at your girlfriend, you can tell she is still feeling like utter shit. "Shh deep breath, what's wrong Baby?", you say as you slip your hand under her shirt and rub her back slightly. She feels a bit sweaty but you put that off on the throwing up.

"I don't know, I'll be okay. I just need a second", Lucy says trying to convince herself she's fine. You hand her some water and she drinks a few sips before the both of you make your way back into her room.

"You okay, Bronzey?", Lauren asks softly and Lucy just nods but Lauren can see in your eyes that you're worried. Lucy quickly gets dressed before all three of you make your way to breakfast. You can see that your girlfriend is still nauseous and you honestly don't know what she wants at breakfast but if there's one thing, it's that Lucy has her own mind.

In the elevator you rub over her back slightly and she gives you a weak smile, trying to act like she's fine. Before you get in to the dining hall you pull her aside a bit and ask again "Baby, I can see you're not okay. Are you sure you want to get breakfast? We can go lay down again for a bit if you like." Your eyes betray how worried you are but Lucy just shakes her head and smiles softly before saying "I'm okay, we need the fuel for the game this afternoon."

You just sigh but know better than to fight with her right now. Maybe she'll feel better after breakfast. You have until lunch to rest and do some more recovery. Maybe Lucy will feel fine again in a few hours.

You can hope right? You sit with her at breakfast and your eyes are constantly on her as she slowly eats her food. You can tell it's getting harder for her to swallow with every bite. "Don't force it, Babe", you say softly as you rub her thigh but she just answers "I need the energy for later."

You just watch her worriedly and Leah and Keira, who are sitting at the table with you share a concerned look too. Lucy's free hand rests on her lap, holding her stomach as she forces herself to take another bite.

You can see Lucy starting to get really nauseous again as her chewing slows down. She's just desperately trying to swallow but you're scared she's about to blow again. Her breaths are deep but a bit to fast for your liking. However you're not saying anything as she tries her hardest to battle her stomach silently.

Before you know it she gets up and quickly makes her way to the bathroom with you right behind her. She barely makes it to the toilet before she throws up her breakfast and even a bit more. "Shh it's okay, Luce. I'm here", you say soothingly as she gathers her bearings, seeming to be done for now.

You grab some toilet paper and rub her mouth gently as she takes a few deep breaths. Getting up she walks to the sink before holding on to the the counter and grabbing her stomach slightly. You flush the toilet and walk up to her, resting a hand on her back gently before you carefully lay your hand on her belly. Stroking it gently with your thumb you feel her abs clench as her stomach cramps.

"Oh Babe, you're really not looking too hot", you say softly and press a kiss to her temple. "I'm okay", she just says and gets herself back together. "Luce, that was the second time you threw up. You're not okay", you say gently but she just looks at you seriously and says again with a bit more force "I'm okay."

You just sigh as she freshens up for a second and you both make your way back to breakfast. She sits back down and continues to eat as you just watch her concerned. "You okay, Bronzey?", Leah asks and Lucy just nods, the look in her eyes telling Leah to let it go. After breakfast you quickly talk to Leah and LJ that you'll spend time until lunch with Lucy, just to be there if something is wrong and they just nod. LJ telling you that she'll stay out of the room to give you two some privacy, eventhough that's not what you asked for.

As you knock on their door LJ opens it before grabbing her stuff and saying quietly to you "Make sure she's okay." You just nod and thank her before walking fully into the room. Lucy sitting on the bed with her iPad rewatching the last Australia game to prepare some more for the game this afternoon.

"Didn't you want to roll out your muscles?", Lucy asks confused as she sees you standing in the room. "I can do that while I keep an eye on you", you say, lifting up your blackroll. "Y/n/n, I'm fine", she tries but you immediately say "Lucy, save that for someone else. I can tell you're not. You're pale as a sheet of paper and I can tell you're in pain."

She just looks up at you as you pause the game and put her iPad aside, sitting down next to her. "Be honest with me", you say softly as you rest a hand on her back and one on her hand on her stomach, which she was still holding tightly.

She's silent for a few moments as she sorts her thoughts. She grimaces slightly as her stomach cramps and closes her eyes for a second, the fact that you saw that let's you know that's he's willing to let you in, at least a bit for now. You gently rub her hand with your thumb and ask "Why don't you lie down and rest a bit?"

She immediately shakes her head and says "I'll get sick again if I lay down." Your heart breaks at that. Its been a while since you've seen her physically so unwell. You slide a bit closer and say "Lean against me then." She does without much hesitation as you start rubbing her back. You can tell that she has been getting increasingly more nauseous since you first stepped into the room. "Shh deep breaths, you'll be okay", you say softly as you kiss her head.

She lasts about five minutes before she peels out of your arms and jogs to the bathroom once again. Finding yourself holding her hair back and rubbing her back again, you sigh softly. Why today?

"Oh love, what's wrong with your stomach? You think it's a bug?", you ask softly once she calms down a bit. She just shrugs as she rests her head on her arm, still unbelievably nauseous. Coughing a bit she gags again harshly. You get up and drench a cloth in cold water before coming back and resting it on her neck.

She slowly calms down a bit more and takes a few deep breaths. "Shh, good job, love, you're doing so good", you say softly as she leans back into you a bit. "This doesn't seem like a bug", she mumbles and you know what she means. You've seen her with a stomach bug, but she has never thrown up so much.

You grab the cloth and gently wipe her face as you say "Maybe it was something you ate?" She just shrugs as she tries to relax into you a bit. "Why today? How am I supposed to play my best like this?", she asks and you frown before you say "Babe, you're not playing like this." She turns around and looks at you as she says serious "I am playing, this is not up for debate."

You decide to not argue with her right now so you just sigh and ask "Are you done for now love?" She just nods and you help her up and to the sink where she freshens up.

She sits down on the bed and you hand her some water and electrolytes. That's one thing you never have to worry about, thankfully, she'll always drink, even if it comes right back up. She sips on the drinks as she grabs her iPad again and continues watching the game.

You can't help but sigh at that. You know how stubborn your girlfriend can be. You walk over to her and press a kiss to her head before deciding to roll out your muscles. There is no way for you to stop Lucy in watching that game. Might as well do your own recovery so you're ready for this afternoon.

"Will you please at least lean against the headboard, honey?", you ask as you move to the floor with your roll. She looks at you before complying hestiantly. "Thank you", you say and take off your hoodie, leaving you in a sports crop top because doing this in a normal shirt gave you the ick.

You focus on your own recovery and roll out your tense muscles while every once in a while looking at Lucy. And more than not you find her looking back at you. "I thought you wanted to watch the game?", you tease gently trying to not worry so much and keep the tone light. "Looking at the screen makes me dizzy", Lucy admits and you just frown.

"I really don't think you should play", you say as you keep rolling out your muscles and Lucy just warns "Y/N." "I'm just saying", you say again and focus on your recovery. Lucy turns off her iPad and keeps watching you as you do your recovery.

Every once in a while she sips on her drinks but you can tell she's feeling pretty crappy. Once you're done you, you get up and sit back down next to her. She just looks at you and you sigh softly before taking her in her your arms.

"I'm sorry you're not feeling well", you mumble and kiss her head. You can feel that she's slightly warm. She doesn't say anything but you can tell she's about to throw up again. "You want me to get you a bucket or bathroom?", you ask softly but she just gets up and runs back to the bathroom.

Sighing again you get up and follow her once more. Lucy is coughing and gagging harshly again as she throws up the water and whatever is left from her breakfast. "Oh Baby", you say softly as she rests her head on her arm and catches her breath. It's this moment where the cramps are really settling in. She grabs her stomach and retches again before spitting into the toilet once more and flushing.

You rub her back and ask softly "Done?" She just nods and you help her freshen up and back in bed. "Are you sure you don't want to try to nap, love?", you ask gently but she just shakes her head as she curls up because of the cramps. You gently pull her into your arms and rest your hand on her belly. "May I?", you question and she nods hesitantly.

You had about half an hour before lunch, so you spend the time rubbing your girlfriend's belly, trying to make her feel a bit better somehow. Eventhough she relaxes a bit Lucy's cramps don't really get any better.

As it's lunch time Lucy is adamant to join you, and you just let her even if you want nothing more than have her lay down. LJ and Leah look at Lucy worried, she looks like crap but she still sits down and eats with them.

"Lucy, you really should lay down and try to get some rest. Playing is not a good idea", Leah says and Lucy just answers "Thats not for you to decide." Leah wants to argue but you just shake her head. Lucy is not in her right mind.

You don't have much time after lunch before you're meeting at the bus to drive to the arena, so you quickly escorting Lucy back to her room, followed by LJ. She barely makes it there before she throws up her lunch again. She's shaking slightly.

"Alright that's it. You're staying here", you say but Lucy answers with her head still over the toilet "I'm not. I'll not sit this one out."

"Are you serious?! Lucy, you can't keep anything down!",

"And?",

"And?! That's fucking insane to even think about playing? You're obviously in no condition to play!",

"I'm FINE", Lucy says but only throws up again.

"You're not fine, stop lying to yourself!", you yell and she just looks at you, before saying "I will play today, deal with it."

You just stare at her. "You know what? Fine. But I'm not gonna be there to scratch you off the floor when you collapse", you say and get up before you step out of the bathroom. You walk past Lauren and out of the room before making your way to your own room.

Everyone knows that's a lie. You'll take care of her but you'll still be mad.

"Is she coming? Did she get sick again?", Leah asks as you storm into the room. "Yes she is and of course she did", you say as you throw your hoodie on the bed and angrily pack the rest of your bag. "Hey. This is not your fault. That's just how Bronzey is", she says softly as she puts a hand on your shoulder. You look up with tears in your eyes and say "But that's just reckless. She couldn't keep anything down today, Leah. Nothing. She's in no state to play. Why can't she understand that?"

Leah sighs softly and says "I don't know but I know you did everything you could. Maybe Sarina doesn't let her play." You just sigh and sit down on your bed. Tears are still running down your cheeks as you mumble "I'm just scared something will happen to her." "I know, but she'll be okay. And if we're lucky she'll learn out of it?", Leah says and you just look at her with a raised eyebrow. You both laugh softly before Leah wraps her arms around you and pulls you in a hug. "She'll be okay Y/n/n", "I hope you're right", you mumble and calm down a bit.

You get dressed and ready before you head to the bus. Asking one of the medics for some of these emisis bags you sit down next to Lucy. Eventhough you freshend up and washed your face Lucy can still tell that you've cried and eventhough she's feverish she knows that it's her fault.

Talking to you isn't an option now though because you had your headphones on. Lucy knows you needed the drive to the stadium to sort your head so she just keeps quiet and looks out the window instead. Her stomach still cramping quiet badly but she tries not to show it. However, you can tell. Turning to her slightly you open your arms and let her lean on you before rubbing her belly softly. You still won't talk to her but you don't have the heart to let your girlfriend suffer.

You're about halfway there as you can tell Lucy is about to throw up again. You hand her the bag without a word and she throws up as quietly as she can to not disturb your teammates. As you finally reach the stadium you get up and move to the locker room. You all sit together in the locker room, changed, Lucy clearly miserable but she seems to be focused as your manager and the rest of the coaching staff comes in.

After looking around Sarina asks "Are up okay to play, Lucy?" Lucy just nods and you can't help but snort at that, shaking your head that Sarina would actually let Lucy play. "Something wrong Y/N?", she asks and you just shake your head again. You're part of the starting XI as well, you don't want to risk that spot because you argue with Sarina.

You all head out for warm up before you sit down on the bench to have some water. It's about time to line up. However before you can focus on that you hear Lucy starting to throw up again two spots down. You quickly walk over and rest a hand on her back, rubbing it softly as she throws up some water, clutching her stomach.

You look at her worried but once she's done you're more pissed than worried again so you just get up and head for the tunnel. Everyone can tell your pissed but lucky for them, you're an even better player when you're pissed.

The first half moves along greatly with you scoring at 36 minutes, getting your team in the lead. You're hot and playing well.

During half time break Lucy gets violently sick again on the bench. She's starting to become really feverish and you're really starting to be worried out of your mind. You can tell how bad the cramps are and that she can barely breathe deep without another cramp rocking through the brunettes stomach. "Lucy, this is getting ridiculous! You need to rest!", you say loudly. "I'm fine", she says weakly and you just huff angrily. "Can you continue Lucy?", Sarina asks and your girlfriend just nods. "You can't be serious?!", you ask Sarina angrily.

"Y/N, when Lucy says she can play. She can play", she says and you just look at her surprised before looking at the medics who just shrug. "You're seriously gonna let her play after she once again threw up everything in her? She's shaking and feverish! Do you know how reckless that is?", you ask in disbelief before you hear Lucy from behind you "Babe, calm down." "Oh don't you dare to tell me what to do. We will talk about that later", you snarls at your girlfriend, God you were angry. "You're some reckless people and I honestly don't know how you can even think about letting such a sick player play. Risking her health for what? Since when is winning more important than your players health", you spit at Sarina and the coaching staff.

You know you crossed a line probably but right now you don't give a shit. Leah having heard snippets of it, she walks over to you and pulls you away. "Come on, let's take a breather", she says and you look at her, wanting to yell at her too but her look makes you stop. You let her pull you away and she says "I know you're angry, but yelling at Sarina will only end in her pulling you of the field." You try to calm down but you can't stop the tears in your eyes once again. "I know, but have you seen Lucy? How can they let her play like that?", you ask as you try to swallow your worry. Leah stops moving and takes you in her arms again, holding you close to let you calm down. "I don't know, she'll be okay. You can't do anything for now. Get your head back in the game okay?", Leah says softly and you nod as you take a deep breath.

You get your head back in the game and try your best to not focus on Lucy as the second half starts. In the 59th minute you play another cross which almost ends in a perfect goal from LJ. Almost.

However in the 63th minute Sam Kerr breaks through and you break out in a sprint to catch her. Which you do, however, as she fakes to the right you slip on the artificial turf and fall to the ground. You still manage to kick the ball away slightly but not hard enough. Sam saves the ball and scores, making you even. You just sit on the ground with your head in your hands as you catch your breath. A few of your teammates come over, including Lucy, and help you up, telling you it's not your fault and especially Lucy asking "Are you okay?" You just nod, it had been a bit painful but nothing you can't push through.

Not even two minutes later you get subbed off. You look confused, you've been playing really well. You look at the sideline and see Sarina shaking her head. You walk off, let Alessia come in for you, walking to the bench without looking at Sarina. Did she really pull you off because of one mistake that you couldn't even stop?

You throw yourself in the seat and sip at your water, angry tears burning in your eyes. "Hey, its not your fault", Georgia tells you but you can't really trust that right now. Sarina obviously thinks it is.

You watch the game continue, pissed off. However as Lucy goes down after a tackle you jump up, looking at her worried. She sits up again so you know she didn't pass out but the game continues, also with another goal for you. Everyone on the bench is cheering except you. As Lucy slowly slides of the pitch and the medic makes her way to her you break out in a full run and run to your girlfriend. You can hear Sarina yell your name and tell you to stay but you don't give a shit.

You're there after the medic who is already looking at her knee. "Are you okay, Luce?", you ask worried as you squat down behind her with your hands on her shoulders. She pulls her legs up slightly as another round of cramps wreck havoc in her body. She just shakes her head. "Everything hurts, I can't even breath without my whole body cramping up", she mumbles as the medic gives her some electrolytes. Once she drank something it almost comes right back up. "Yeah you're done, love", you say and the medic nods. Lucy is pissed but knows you're right. That's when the ref stops the game and walks over to the three of you.

"You can't be here", she says to you and you just look at her confused. "I'm off the pitch, what's the problem?", you ask pissed. "Players can't be next to the goal, it doesn't matter if you're playing or not", "I'm checking on my teammate!", you yell at her. She picked the wrong moment to mess with you. Lucy is just staring at the ground trying to keep ber bearings.

"Don't talk to me like that!", the ref says strictly and you just snort before saying "You make a big deal out of nothing. You stop the game with no reason. Go do your job and let me take care of my teammate!"

You crossed a line and you know that.

She blows the whistle and pulls out a yellow card, giving it to you. "Are you serious? What's your fucking problem?", you start to argue again but the ref isn't having it. Before she could do anything else Leah runs between you two and tells you "Y/N get it together! You'll get carded again and miss the final! I know you're upset but shut your mouth!" By the time she finishes talking, Lucy is on her feet again, stumbling but on her feet. You turn away from the ref and rest a hand on Lucy's back as you guide her to the bench. Lucy gets subbed and you sit down on the bench as she almost immediately starts puking again. "Shh you're okay love", you say soothingly as you rub her back. The medic hands you a cold towel and you rest it on her neck, calming her down. "Y/N what the heck was that?!", Sarina says stomping towards you. You just roll your eyes and keep your attention on Lucy. "Don't ignore me!", she yells and you just look up and say clearly, "I'm not gonna apologize."

You can tell she's about to send you in the locker room but then your teammates score another goal. Your focus still stays on Lucy, it's great your in the lead with two but right now you're worried about your girlfriend. She's trembling and tensing every few moments because of the cramps, the heat here not helping. "Shh you'll be alright, my love", you say gently and press a kiss to her warm temple. As she rests her head in her hands you squat in front of her and hold the cold towel to each side of her face, hoping to lower her fever a bit. The final whistle is blown and you press a kiss to her forehead. "We won, Luce. We're in the final", you whisper and the brunette smiles softly.

"I really don't feel good", she mumbles and your heart breaks at that. "I know, let's get you in the locker room", you say gently before looking at the medic and he just nods for you to take her.

You help her up and steady her as she sways. "We gotta get your fever down", you say and she just nods but you can tell she's pretty out of it. You help her undress and guide her in the shower, only taking off your shoes, shorts and shirt. Getting in with her to make sure she doesn't fall. You stay in for almost 20 minutes but by then her fever dropped at least a little. You are pretty cold but you can care less right now.

Your teammates are mostly in the locker room already as you guide Lucy back to her bench and help her get dressed. "Baby, you're cold", she says but you just ignore her. "She's right, we don't want you getting sick before the final", Leah says, laying your towel around your shoulders. You smile softly at her, thanking her.

Once Lucy is dressed, you quickly change yourself. You will shower at the hotel again. You just pull your shirt down as Sarina knocks at the door. Leah tells her that she can come in and by the look on her face you know she's not done with you.

"What the hell were you thinking, Y/N?!", she yells at you. Leah wants to intervene but you're too quick to answer "What was I thinking?" "You got a yellow because you couldn't keep your mouth shut eventhough you weren't even playing!", she yells at you. "Well I wouldn't have if you wouldn't have been so reckless! What on earth made you think it's okay to let Lucy play?", you ask back loudly. You'd not back down and even Leah knows that intervening now will not end well.

"Lucy said she's fine to play!", she yell and you just laugh angrily. "Everyone knows that she doesn't know when to stop. For fucks sake she couldn't keep anything down all day. Any person that can think logically knew that this was a disaster waiting to happen!", you yell and she just looks angrily at you. "Y/N", Lucy tries, not completely out if it anymore but you just turn to her and say "You better be quiet, Bronze. I'm not done with you either." The fact that you last namened her lets her know she's in trouble so she just shuts her mouth.

"I'm not letting you chew me out because I got a yellow. The ref has been waiting to do that all game and we all know that. You subbed me off because I opened my mouth at halftime. I couldn't have prevented that goal and even if I still feel guilty for it, you of all people should know that it was not my fault!", you yell angrily, you're fuming. "You got a yellow, you're lucky you're not suspended for the final!", she yells back.

"Yeah well if you would've acted with the health of your players as top priority, non of this would've happened!", you spit. "Careful or you'll find yourself on the bench for the final!", she threatens and that when Leah knows she has to step in as captain. "Okay that's enough. Let's go all back to the hotel and calm down before we make any hasty decisions", Leah tells and Sarina just glares at you once more before she leaves the locker room.

"Y/N", Lucy tries again but you just warn, "Don't." "I think it's better if you're quiet, Bronzey", Leah says quietly but you can see her trying to hide a smirk. It's rare to see Lucy Bronze not having a cheeky remark. Leaving the seriousness aside, it is kinda funny so you get Leah.

You head to the bus and sit down next to Lucy again. Now that you're calming down, you're starting to feel your knee a bit from that slip but you'll be fine. You're still pretty pissed so you grab your headphones and put them on, closing your eyes as you lean your head back. You can feel Lucy shifting next to you and not settling in the slightest, so you open your eyes and look at the brunette. You can tell she's feeling sick but the cramps seem to be worse than ever. You sigh softly and turn slightly, before you say "Come here." She looks at you unsure and you say again "I may be really mad at you but I still love you. You have 5 seconds to decide if you want my comfort or not."

It doesn't even take one for her to cuddle into you. Most people wouldn't think that but Lucy is a snuggler. Especially when she's not feeling well. You pull her close and hand her one of the bags you have left, just in case before you gently rub over her belly, trying to soothe those angry muscles.

You end up stuck in traffic and thanks to your soft touch Lucy dozes off a bit. Your eyes are closed again and the music kept the other voices from disturbing your peace. "I thought Y/N is mad at Lucy?", a fairly new teammate asks. She's not been on the team for long enough to fully get Lucy's and your relationship. "Oh she is, she's pissed out of her mind", Keira chuckles softly. "But they're cuddling?!", she asked even more confused. "You must know, Y/n/n is that kind of person where she can be unbelievably mad at you, but she'll still make sure you're okay. No matter what. Lucy can mess up badly like right now but Y/N will take care of her until she feels better because she loves her. She would never in a million years let Lucy suffer on her own or not be there for her just because she's mad. They have a special kind of love", Leah explained as a few of your teammates smile at you guys softly.

You feel that you're being stared at, so you open your eyes to find several teammates quickly look away, but not Leah, Keira and LJ. You see their smile and look down to see Lucy asleep on you. You can't help the smile you crack. Your girlfriend is pretty adorable but you'd never let her see that smile right now. You press a soft kiss to her head and lean back again. Eventually, you make it to the hotel and make your way inside. LJ and you switching rooms for the night, so you can make sure Lucy is okay.

You let Leah know that neither of you will attend dinner tonight before you bring Lucy in the room. "Come on, change and then bed", you say and Lucy wants to argue but your look makes her close her mouth again before following your orders. Lucy is about to lie down as Lauren bring you your bag, before grabbing hers and making her way back to Leah. You start boiling some water in the kettle in the room before fishing the hot water bottle out of your bag. Heat often helps your muscles and Lucy too even if she doesn't want to admit it, so you usually bring it. Once you are done prepping it, you sit down at the edge of the bed, lift the blanket and place it on Lucy's stomach. She sighs softly in relief before she looks up at you with teary eyes.

You know that she hates it when you're mad at her. You sigh softly and caress her cheek, before you say "Don't cry, Luce. Everything will be okay." "Do you still love me? I'm sorry", she asks insecure and it breaks your heart. That's definitely mostly the exhaustion talking. "I will always love you. Even when I'm mad, love. Now do me a favor and get some sleep okay? I'll join you after a quick shower", you say as you kiss her forehead lovingly. She doesn't have to be told twice. Not even a minute later she's already dozing off.

You smile and shower quickly, before joining her in bed. You cuddle your sleeping girlfriend for about an hour until there is a soft knock at the door. It opens a second later and you see Leah waking in with a tray. There is some dinner on it for you and some crackers and fresh ginger for tea for Lucy. "I figured you'd be hungry. How's our Bronzey?", she asks softly to not wake Lucy.

"Thank you. She's okay, I think. I'm glad she's sleeping. She's exhausted", you say as you look concerned at your girlfriend. Leah walks up to you and squeezes your shoulder before she says "She looks a bit better already. She'll be okay. Now eat something yourself please okay?" You sigh and nod before you thank her. Leah leaves again and you eat your dinner. You're just done eating as Lucy stirs. You gently push a piece of hair out of her face and ask "How are you feeling, love?" "A bit better", she mumbles and leans into your touch.

You press a kiss to her forehead and ask "Do you think you could keep down some tea?" "I can try", she says with a small smile, so you get up and finish some tea with the fresh ginger.

Once it's done, she sits up and you hand her the mug before sitting down across from her. You can tell the fever is gone and she seems a lot clearer than earlier.

"How mad at me are you?", she asks softly as she looks up at you. "Pretty mad", you say before you sigh. "Lucy, you cannot be so irresponsible. This could've ended badly and you know that", "I know, I'm sorry", she says quietly. You know own she means it but that just isn't enough. "I know you are but you're sorry because I'm mad now. Lucy I need you to understand that I'm not mad because you acted against my wish. I was fucking worried about you. You could've gotten seriously hurt. I need you to be okay and I don't know how often I can go through such a day like today", you say seriously, close to tears. She knows your biggest fear is losing her.

She quickly puts aside the mug and opens takes your hands in hers. "Hey y/n/n, look at me and listen please. I know I messed up. I know I worried you and scared you. And I'm sorry for that. I can only imagine how anxious you must've been all day and I never wanted to be the reason you're feeling like that. We both know I have a problem to know my limits and I know I should've listened to you. I'm truly sorry and I need you to believe me. I try to listen to you next time", she says as she looks into your eyes and you just nod before she takes you in her arms, letting you calm down and let those tears and anxiety out.

"I'm still mad at you", you mumble in her shoulder. "I know, I deserve that", she chuckles softly and kisses your forehead. After a few minutes in her arms, you sut up and say "Now drink that tea." "Yes ma'am", Lucy just say causing you to roll your eyes smiling.

Grabbing the hot water bottle from her stomach she pouts dramatically and you just laugh before you tell her "Relax, I'm gonna make a fresh one for you."

Getting up you limp a step before putting the water back in the kettle and turn it on, shaking your leg out slightly. You're definitely feeling your knee and Lucy can tell immediately. "Let me look at your knee", she says but you answer "Lucy I want you to rest and drink your tea." "Yeah, well I don't want my girlfriend to be in pain either when she takes care of me", Lucy tells you seriously. She'll not back down, you know that.

You sigh, finish up the hot water bottle and make your way back to bed. Laying the hot water bottle next to her she gets up and tell you to sit down so she can check on your knee. If there is one person to know everything about knees it's Lucy. She can tell how tense the muscles are, probably overstretched a bit. She massages them a bit, which is pretty uncomfortable but ultimately helps.

"Make sure one of the physios takes a look at that tomorrow and gets you taped up", she says softly and you nod, before you thank her. "Not for that", she says and presses a kiss to your knee before getting back in bed. You cuddle up next to her and place the hot water bottle back on her stomach.

Both of you head to sleep pretty early but she does finish her tea and even eats a few crackers without throwing up again. The next morning, you wake up in her arms. You turn off the alarm and she opens her eyes to look sleepily at you. "Morning, I missed this", she mumbles before kissing your head. "Me too", you say smiling before gently rubbing over her stomach. "How's your tummy?", you ask and she answers "Sore but definitely not as queasy anymore."

You just smile satisfied and cuddle for a few more minutes before you get ready for breakfast.

Once down in the dining area you kiss her cheek and say "Sit down already, I'm gonna get us something to eat." She nods and sits down next to Leah. You come back a few minutes later with two plates only to find Lucy and Leah looking at Leah's phone watching the game from yesterday. More precisely the scene where you got a yellow.

"Why are you watching that?", you whine slightly as you place a plate of toast, some cucumber and some watermelon. "I don't remember much of the game yesterday, I wanna know why you got carded", Lucy says grinning and you just roll your eyes. "The ref has been waiting all game for that", you grumble and Leah just chuckles before she says "And thanks to her you're also on bad terms with Sarina." You just sigh and rub over your face, all of that making your head hurt slightly.

Lucy rests a hand on your thigh and makes you look at her. "Thank you for standing up for me", she says softly. "You're welcome, but you better don't do it again, Bronze", you say with a raised eyebrow. She winced slightly at being last named again. "Understood", she says before pressing a kiss to your temple

#lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze #woso fic #woso x reader #woso community #lionesses #lionesses x reader #wwc 2023

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heavenlyhischier · 8 months

Text

𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐲 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐬 - 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐧 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

word count: 7.6k (i got very carried away im sorry)

summary: after months of feeling like you've lost quinn, he ends up losing you. will the two of you find your back to each other?

warnings: angst, self-destructive tendancies, drinking, cursing, MINORS DNI - 18+ content below the cut, shower sex, fingering, oral (fem recieving), unprotected sex (use protection guys), teeny bit of a praise kink, brief breath play, please let me know if you see any mistakes. i finished this at 2 am and my vision was a little blurry at that point

note: this is part of my follower celebration! i'm so glad i finally wrote about the future captian of the vancouver canucks please guys im begging you.

Two years ago, you had met Quinn Hughes through a mutual friend, and he’s been a part of your life ever since. In the beginning, the two of you took things slow, wanting to truly get to know each other before getting into a relationship. Quinn wanted to make sure that his intense schedule that involved him being gone for long periods of time wasn’t going to overwhelm you, or make you feel alone. You wanted to make sure that, after all you had gone through, Quinn was going to remain a man of his word and make your relationship work despite the many odds that came with his job. And he did, at first.

For the first year and a half that you were with Quinn, he was texting, calling, facetiming as often as he could when he was gone. If he wasn’t doing something that related to his commitment to the hockey team, he was talking to you in some way. He would send you pictures of the places he would visit with short captions of how he wished you were there with him, and you would always smile at them and tell him that you would be, one day. Though, a few months ago, those texts started to become less frequent, and when you did get them, they sounded forced, almost like they had been rehearsed.

For a while, you tried to reason with yourself. Telling yourself that he was just getting busier, and the stress was getting to him. You tried to understand just how demanding and exhausting his job must be, so you brushed off his deteriorating communication. Instead, you tried to hold onto the hope that when he was finally back home, things were going to go back to normal. Quinn was going to walk back through the door to your shared apartment and hold you until you fell asleep. Then, that stopped happening too.

The first time you realized that Quinn was truly pulling away from you was when he didn’t come straight home after a seven day roadie. He hadn’t even told you that he was close to home yet. You only found out because Natalie had posted a snapchat story of JT holding Owen, and you were immediately dialing your boyfriend's phone number. Your heart sank when it only rang three times before cutting to his bland voicemail message.

You remember spending the rest of that night crying into your pillow, thoughts of what you could have done to make him distance himself from you clouding your brain. You knew that hockey players had an abysmal reputation, but you have never lumped Quinn into that group of men. You’ve always thought the world of him, considering yourself lucky to have the luxury of being loved by him. This had you questioning everything you thought you knew about him. When he came home later that night, he gave you a half-assed apology and explanation followed by a string of kisses that had you melting back into him.

Though even that started to dwindle, and eventually it stopped all together. When Quinn was home in Vancouver, he rarely made the effort to spend time with you, and when he did, it was almost like he wasn’t there. His face would always be buried in his phone, or he’d be playing video games with his friends and you’d simply be sitting next to him on the couch. Quinn had stopped trying to plan dates, and honestly, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone on one with him. You could barely remember the last time the two of you had shared a kiss that was more than the obligatory chaste peck on the lips before bed.

You tried to reassure yourself and ignore the aching in your chest, but the way he put as much distance as he possibly could between the two of you, the less you were able to do that. Eventually, you’d decided that enough was enough, and if it felt like you weren’t in a relationship, then you weren’t going to be in one. No matter how badly it hurt.

The thought of breaking up with Quinn made you feel like someone was holding your head under water. The panic settling into your chest as you realized that you couldn’t breathe; your lungs burning the longer you went without any air. No matter how hard you tried to break the surface and gasp for air, your head was only shoved deeper and deeper into the water until you realized that the only escape was leaving him. Leaving the man you were still in love with was the only way for you to be able to breathe again.

When he finally came home that night, he didn’t even notice you sitting at the table, his head shoved in his phone as he walked through the door. “Quinn,” Your quiet voice bounced off the walls of your home. His head snapped up, eyes wide with surprise that you were still awake at this hour, but you continued, “We need to talk.”

“Okay,” He drew out, brows knitting together in confusion as he slipped his phone into his pocket, “What’s this about?”

His eyes darted throughout the apartment, and you watched as his shoulders fell when he realized that stuff was missing from all over. Your stuff. With Quinn avoiding your home like it was, or rather you were, the plague, it gave you enough time to gather everything you’d brought over with you, and temporarily move it into a friend's apartment until you could find your own. Despite the multiple breaks you had to take because you kept breaking down, you managed to do it all in one day.

“I think you know what it’s about,” You chewed at your bottom lip, blinking rapidly to keep yourself from crying.

“Baby, I-,” He tried as he reached over the table to grab your hand, but you quickly cut him off. The chair scraped against the floor as you abruptly stood, shoving his outstretched hand away from you.

“Don’t call me that,” You spat, vision blurring from the tears, “You can’t call me that anymore.”

“What are you trying to say,” He asked, his voice breaking, and that made you angry.

How dare he act like he was hurt when all he’s been doing is hurting you? He put you in this position. He pushed you away, made you feel like he didn’t want you anymore. He did this, and he doesn’t get to act like he’s the one that’s hurting.

“I’m saying that we’re done, Quinn. I’m breaking up with you,” You asserted through the salty streams falling down your cheeks. Though the words tasted bitter as they came out, you felt a slight, very very slight, sense of relief wash over you as you said the words out loud.

Your words hung over his head as you fell into an uncomfortable silence, eyes staying trained on him as you waited for a response. He stood at the table with his palms pressed against the wood, head down as he let out a shaky breath followed by a weak question.

“What do you mean ‘Why’,” You scoffed, shooting daggers into the top of his head, “Quinn, you’ve barely said a full sentence to me in the last week. You don’t talk to me when you’re gone anymore. Hell, half the time I don’t even know you guys are back unless someone posts about it. I just- It just feels like you don’t want this anymore, and that’s okay, but what you’ve been doing isn’t.”

“No,” He breathed out, his voice small and broken as he shook his head, “No, it’s not and I’m sorry. I don’t- Fuck, Y/N, I don’t know what to say right now. I lo-“

“Please don’t,” You interrupted, tearing your gaze away from him as you choked on your own cries, “Please stop, Quinn. I can’t do it anymore. I love you so much, but it’s gotten to a point that the person I fell in love with is gone even though he’s right in front of me.”

A part of you did want him to beg you to stay, to beg you to give him another chance because he will change. He will change as long as it means he got to have you, and he couldn’t live without you. But the more logical part of you was holding the spear, and it was telling you that you were doing the best thing for you. That leaving Quinn, while it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do, it was the right decision for you.

“I’ve already got all of my stuff moved out,” Your voice cut through the thick silence, “You’re not home much so it made it pretty easy.”

You couldn’t help but throw the jab in there, but it was only to cover the thinly veiled agony that was truly going on in your heart and bleeding into the rest of your body. You didn’t want Quinn to know that saying goodbye to him was like death by a thousand cuts, and so you masked the pain the only way you knew how. With anger.

“I wish you and your team the best in the rest of the season, I really do. But I think it would be better for both of us if we don’t talk after this.”

Not waiting for his response, you made a slight show to toss the key to what was now his apartment onto the table in front of him, the gentle ding of the metal hitting the wood echoing through the empty room, before walking out of the door. You’d barely made it into the elevator by the time your feelings washed over you an aggressive wave that came seemingly out of nowhere and everywhere all at once. You were thankful that the ride down to the bottom was quick and no one else joined you, and that the main lobby was only occupied by the security guard who’s more than likely seen his fair share of crying women.

That night, you went to your friend's apartment and broke down into a mess of screams, tears, and pain. She held you as you cried, held your hair as you threw up, held your hand through the shower curtain because you didn’t want to be alone. She stood by you in your most desperate time of need, and she made it her own personal goal to maim the hockey player should she ever see him again.

Quinn didn’t text or call you, but you knew that he wasn’t doing the greatest for the first few weeks after your breakup. Petey and Brock had both called to check on you once they had figured out what had their teammate in the state he was in. They asked how you were doing, and not-so-subtly mentioned that Quinn wasn’t any better off than you were. Though, they quickly learned to not mention him unless they wanted to listen to you call them obscene words before ending the call and ignoring them for a few days. You knew their intentions were good, but you didn’t want to hear about how “awful” Quinn was.

If he had acted like he cared about you half as much as his friends were telling you he did, maybe you would have made the effort to ask about him. If he loved you half as much as they said he did, but he didn’t. And he’s made that clear to you. Of course you know you told him that you thought it best if the two of you didn’t talk anymore, but you had secretly hoped he wouldn’t listen. That he would be calling you and texting you, begging you to come back. Telling you how in love he was with you, but it was complete and utter radio silence.

Eventually, you were able to pick yourself back up enough to find your own apartment. Leila had insisted that you staying with her was never going to be a problem, but you knew you couldn’t stay there forever. You needed to try and move on from him, even though you weren’t quite ready to let go of him yet. You needed to try and find yourself again, and you couldn’t do that sleeping in the guest bed of your best friend and her boyfriend's apartment.

Leila’s worried eyes were practically carved into your skull at this point, but you didn’t blame her. She’s had to pick you up, physically and emotionally, more times than she had anticipated when you initially turned up at her door with puffy cheeks and bloodshot eyes. Though she should have realized how deeply hurt you were the fourth time she held you after you had woken up thinking that your breakup was a nightmare, only to realize that it was reality that haunted your dreams.

No matter how hard you tried to forget about Quinn Hughes, the city you lived in was as riddled with memories and reminders of what once was. He was on every street you walked, in every store window you passed by. He was everywhere, and it made you feel like there was a shard of glass piercing your heart, unrelenting and unmoving. You wanted nothing more than to forget about the man who had torn your heart in two, and you were willing to do anything to do that.

The bar air that clung to your body was sticky with alcohol and sweat, but you didn’t seem to mind as you moved your hips to the beat of whatever terrible remix they were playing. The unnamed man behind you had his hands planted firmly on your waist, but you didn’t pay him any mind as you let yourself dance. The alcohol swimming through your veins aiding your ability to forget about all of the hurt you had yet to heal from.

For the last three months, you often found yourself in some sort of bar or club to drink your pain away. It was cliche, but you hadn’t stumbled upon any other outlet that allowed you to forget about the constant ache in your chest. Leila had tried to guide you towards less self-destructive ways of healing, but you didn’t listen to her. This way was guaranteed to ease your heartbreak, at least for the night and that was all you needed.

“I’m Wren,” The man yelled into your ear, an off-putting smirk slapped on his less than desirable features.

Your mouth dropped open, the blood pounding in your ears covering the music entirely. It was too close. His name was too similar, and it made the one thing you were trying to forget flood itself into your head. Images of Quinn and memories of the way his voice sounded pushed their way to the forefront mind, and suddenly you couldn’t breathe.

Without another word, you pushed the man away from you and scrambled towards the exit of the bar. Your vision turned bleary and clouded, from the tears or the alcohol, you weren’t sure. Ignoring the worried calls from strangers you shoved past, you rushed out into the crisp Vancouver air.

You stumbled over into the mostly empty alleyway, clutching at your chest as your back came in contact with the brick wall. You were aware of the many lingering eyes on you, but the feeling that was consuming you made their attention appear miniscule and irrelevant. All you could think about was Quinn and how he never even fought to be with you. How he gave you up so easily.

Leila’s boyfriend had seen you run out of the bar, and immediately darted towards the bathroom so he could grab her. With the help of a few random women, he was able to get her attention much faster, and she was rushing out of the bar and leaving him to close their tab. Leila heard you before she saw you, and that alone made her chest burn for you.

“Honey,” She delicately approached you, her voice calm and collected, “What happened?”

The words were on the tip of your tongue, but nothing was coming out but strangled breaths and mangled cries. Despite having seen you in this position more times than she could count, it broke Leila’s heart all the same. She maneuvered your body so that she could pull you into her lap, ignoring the fact that she was sitting on the ground in a dirty alley. She began rubbing soothing circles on your back and instructed you to try and follow her breathing pattern.

Once you were able to catch your breath, you let out an almost incoherent, “Why didn’t he come back?”

Leila was able to calm you down enough to get you back to your apartment nearly an hour later. She kept insisting that you just come home with her, but you already felt guilty enough for intruding so much on her personal life. You knew she didn’t mind, but you did, so you managed to convince her that you would be okay by yourself, and that you would call her if you needed her. Though, she wasn’t the person you ended up calling.

“You have reached the voicemail box of Quinn Hughes. Please leave a message after the tone.”

“I hate you, Quinn,” You started, your voice already raspy from the moments prior, “I hate you so much for making me believe that you ever loved me back the way that I loved you. I thought we were forever, you know. That’s what you told me. That we would get married and have our own family, but we saw how that turned out. It was never going to be me, was it?

“I just wished you would have had the balls to tell me that you fell out of love with me, if you ever did in the first place, or found someone else or whatever the fuck happened. It would have made it a hell of a lot easier knowing that I, or you, did something to make you not stop loving me. It’s just- The worst fucking part about all of this is, is that I’m still so in love with you that it physically hurts me to be without you, but that doesn’t matter does it?

“Fuck. I don’t even know why I’m doing this. I guess I'm just trying to give myself closure so that I can really move on from you. I don’t know that I’ll ever stop loving you, but I’m going to try.”

Hanging up the phone, you threw it onto your couch and let out a gut wrenching sob that ripped through the stillness of your apartment. You fell to your knees and let everything you had been bottling up for the last three months bleed out of you. The world spun around you, your lungs burning as you gasped for air. Your fingers grasped at anything they could possibly wrap themselves around in an attempt to keep yourself steady.

You felt as if you were back to square one, and you hated that all it took was some man having a name that too closely resembled his. It was stupid, you thought, blatantly pathetic how easily you were thrown back into the fire you had done your best to crawl out of. You had almost healed all of the cuts Quinn’s treatment of you had left in your heart, but now they were gaping open once again.

Minutes passed by, or maybe hours you weren’t sure, and you had fallen into a limp ball on the floor of your living room. You had no energy to move from the spot as silent tears escaped their previous confinement. You stared lifelessly at the ceiling above you, mind too tired to fight off the dangerous thoughts floating about inside your head. It was only when sleep finally graced you that you were able to escape the pain of what-ifs.

The following morning, you were rudely awoken by someone aggressively and relentlessly knocking on your door. The sound ricocheted across the nearly empty walls of your apartment, and worsened the already excruciating pounding in your head. Pushing your tired body off the floor, you let out a quiet groan as nausea rippled from your core.

You passed by a mirror that Leila insisted you hang, and you outwardly cringed at your appearance. Your face swollen from last night's breakdown, and your makeup was smudged all across your face. Needless to say, your unwarranted guest was not going to get a presentable version of you.

Not bothering to check the peephole, you pulled the door open and time froze all around you. Quinn stood there with his hands in his pockets, head covered by the hood of his blue Canucks hoodie. His face was decorated with overgrown facial hair and deep set bags had found places underneath his eyes. Truly, he looked awful, but the sight of him in front of you made the already growing ball of nausea burst.

Quinn watched as your eyes simultaneously widened and hardened with an undetectable emotion, but he’s sure he could guess what it was. When he had woken up that morning, the last thing he’d expected to see was a missed call from you, let alone a voicemail. He’d listened to it a dozen times before calling Petey, asking him what he should do.

After a lecture that closely resembled the one he had already gotten from his teammate months prior that was followed by words of encouragement, he set off to your apartment. He only knew your address because Brock had accidentally let it slip when they passed by it one night. Truthfully, Quinn was expecting you to not answer the door or to slam it shut in his face when you saw him. That he was prepared for, but what he did not prepare himself for was you darting to the bathroom.

He stood in the hallway, conflicting emotions battling with each other as the sound of you retching reached his ears. He wanted to follow after you and comfort you like he’d done many times before, but he also didn’t want to make you even more uncomfortable than you undoubtedly were already. He opted to step inside and wait for you in the living room, preparing himself for whatever you were going to throw at him.

You were heaving into the toilet, panic running through every nerve in your body as you tried to focus on breathing rather than throwing up. The last person you had expected to show up at your door was here now, and you left him standing in the hallway. A million thoughts ran through your mind as you flushed the toilet, pushing yourself up off the floor for the second time in the last fifteen minutes.

Why was Quinn here? How was he here? You never gave him your address. Though a brief reminder that Brock knew where you lived was enough to answer that question for you, but nothing you could come up with answered why. You remember leaving him a voicemail in your drunken meltdown, but you couldn’t wrap your head around just what had gotten him to seek you out.

You stared at yourself in the mirror for far too long, and you wondered if Quinn was still here. You’d heard the door shut, but you couldn’t figure out if the footsteps that followed were inside your apartment or in the hallway. After quickly brushing your teeth and convincing yourself that he had left, you stepped back into the living room and were proven wrong. He had settled into the spot on the couch that he chose every time if he could; closest to the kitchen. His leg was anxiously bouncing up and down, and he was biting at his fingernails.

“What are you doing here,” You called out, nails digging into the palm of your hand as a way to keep yourself grounded.

The sound of your voice had Quinn’s head turning on a swivel before he was standing and taking a few steps towards you, but he stopped when you stepped backwards. He swallowed thickly, knowing that he was already treading through very dangerous waters by showing up at your apartment unannounced, and he didn’t want to do anything to further worsen that.

He instantly registered the tortured look in your eyes because it was the same one he’s been sporting since you left. Quinn knows he’s to blame for the downfall of your relationship. He should have fought harder. He should have fought, period, but he had his own reason for letting you go.

“You called me last night,” He started.

“I was drunk,” You firmly stated, heart beating loudly in your chest, “It didn’t mean anything.” You were lying, and he knew that, too. Quinn could always tell when you were lying.

“It meant something to me,” He rushed out, “Hearing your voice- Hearing you say that you thought I never loved you ripped me to pieces. I know I don’t deserve it, but can you please listen to my explanation? I know it won’t repair the damage I’ve done, but please. I was too scared before, but I’m not now.”

He rasped your name out like it was something sacred, like it held the entire world within its syllables. His eyes were glassy and filled with unshed tears as they bore into your own. He could tell that your heart and brain were at war with each other by the way you kept taking sharp breaths, and your eyes kept flitting away from him.

“I don’t know, Quinn. I’m trying to move on, and hearing you out will only undo all of the work I’ve put into doing that,” You tried, turning away from him but still staying in the living room.

“I know, baby,” The nickname tumbled out before he could stop it, sending a jab to your chest, “I know, but please. I will leave you alone after, if that’s what you really want. I’ll do whatever you want.”

You weighed your options in your head before letting out a hesitant, “Okay. I’ll listen, but if I want you to leave after, you’ll go?”

Your heart had won this battle, but you’re relying on your brain to save it later if need be. The sound of his approaching footsteps made the breath catch in your throat, but the feeling of his hand sliding into your own sent a jolt of electricity through your entire body. Your head snapped to his own, your eyes full of anxiety and familiarity.

He gently pulled you over to the couch, dropping your hand so that you could sit as far away from as you wanted. The air was crawling with nerves from both parties, but the lack of anger radiating off of you brought him some sort of comfort as he gathered his thoughts. Though, in your defense, you could never be angry at Quinn, no matter how badly he hurt you.

“I know that no apology can fix the hurt I’ve caused you, but I am sorry. I am so sorry for pulling away from you instead of talking to you. I never fell out of love with you, ever. Not then, and not now. Do you want to know the best thing that’s ever happened to me? It isn't hockey. It isn’t money. It’s you, and that terrified me. I was so scared that I was going to screw everything up.”

You opened your mouth to interrupt him, but he cast you a stern glare and shook his head before continuing, “I never let that bother me until I overheard you talking to Leila about marriage and children, and I got scared. I started questioning if I was good enough for you. If I was even good for you. I’m gone so much with the team, and I’ve already missed so many of your accomplishments because I was on the road.

“I started thinking about us having kids. How many appointments would I miss? What if I missed the birth? What if I missed the baby’s first steps? I couldn’t imagine putting you through all of that by yourself, so I started pulling away. Was it a good idea? Absolutely not, but it made sense to me. I thought I was going to save you from heartbreak in the future, but all I did was cause it now instead.

“I didn’t call after you left because I thought I did the right thing. I thought I was doing what was best for you, but then I heard your voice this morning and I knew I had to fix it, if you’d let me. I couldn’t let you think that I never loved you, because I do. I love you so much, and I will do anything to prove that to you, should you give me the chance.”

You sat there in silence, digesting the words that had just been said to you as you let out quiet sobs. For nearly the last year, you had believed that Quinn didn’t love you, and now he was saying the exact opposite. He was begging for another chance, and that was what you had wanted, right? It still was, but the damage that was done wasn’t going to be easily fixable. You would have to start back at the beginning, and you’re not sure if Quinn was willing to do that.

“Baby,” He whispered, your silence lighting his skin on fire with nerves, “I don’t know what’s going through your head, but I want you to know that I meant what I said. I will do whatever it takes to fix this mess I created. Anything.”

The gears were turning in your head, trying to conjure any sort of coherent thought to tell him that you wanted this, but you were scared. You’d put so much faith and trust into Quinn, and he tore all of that down out of fear. What if he did that again?

“I want to,” You whispered, “I do, but what if you do it again? I can’t go through it all over, Quinn. I felt like I was going to die without you, and I can’t go through losing you all over again if you get scared.”

You felt his weight lift off the sofa, and before you realized what was going on, he was wedging himself in between your legs in front of you. He cupped both of your cheeks in his hands so you were looking at him, and you swear you blacked out for a second. Just because Quinn had hurt you, doesn’t mean the effect he had on you went away.

“You won’t lose me ever again, okay? My heart belongs to you. My heart beats for you. I promise to love you for the rest of my life, even if you don’t love me for the rest of yours.”

His hands were still on your cheeks as you gulped down the lump in your throat, his pleading eyes darting all across your face. Lucky for you, your heart and your brain had linked together as you let out an almost silent, “Kiss me, please.”

And he did. Quinn’s lips were on yours in an instant, hands dropping down so he could pull you into his chest. The kiss was full of desperation and months of lost time as the two of you clung to each other. He was holding your hips so tightly that you’re fairly certain they were going to bruise, but you didn’t mind. You were pulling him into you just as desperately, afraid that he was somehow going to disappear from right in front of you.

He briefly pulled away so that he could sit on the couch, pulling you into his lap not long after. He quickly reattached his lips to yours, and he kissed you with so much fervor that it had your head spinning. You could feel some of your sadness melting away, being replaced by passion and desire for the man underneath you. Almost as if a switch had flipped within you. You shifted your hips on his lap, and a throaty moan escaped his swollen lips as he slightly threw his head back.

“Be careful with that,” He let out a breathy laugh, “You know what that does to me.”

There was a teasing glint in your eye as you spoke, “I know.”

“Fuck me,” He groaned, subtly moving your hips against him.

“If you insist,” You drew out, leaning down to ghost your lips over his neck.

He threw his head back against the couch and screwed his eyes shut as your warm breath fanned across his neck. Your eyes flicked up to his face, and you couldn’t help but let a mischievous smirk form before dragging your tongue across the expanse of his neck. He let out a string of profanities as you latched your mouth onto the spot you knew would send him spiraling, but you quickly pulled away and hopped off of him.

“I need to take a shower,” You announced, a teasing tone to your voice, “I’m still gross from the bar.”

Quinn’s eyes snapped open, watching as you began to walk away. Only when he heard you ask if you were going to join did he jump off the couch and scramble after you. He shed his clothes as he followed you to the bathroom, leaving a trail of fabric in his wake. By the time he had reached your bathroom, you’d already turned the shower on and rid yourself of your own clothes.

“I do not deserve you,” He mumbled as his eyes raked over your naked body.

He’d already memorized every dip and curve of you, but he always treated it as if he was seeing all of you for the first time. Your body captivated him in all of the best ways, and it left Quinn breathless every time you graced him with it. He considered it a privilege to be able to bear witness to the Goddess of a woman in front of him, and he worshiped it like it was.

Despite all that has happened between the two of you, you still felt comfortable enough to share this part of you with Quinn. Unlike the guys who had seen you naked before, none of them treated it the way he did. He never made you feel insecure, and he always made every other part of you feel just as loved as your body. He admired your character, and even your flaws, all the same.

“You gonna stand there or are you going to join me,” You teased as you stepped into the shower.

The water enveloped you like a welcomed hug, and you let out a sigh of relief as the stickiness from last night was washed away. You were facing towards the shower, eyes closed and head tilted back. You heard the curtain rings slide against the rod before you felt Quinn’s chest pressed against your back. You wiggled against his hardened length, and he took your teasing as a green light.

His fingers trailed up along your hip, across your waist before dancing over your breast. He made a point to slightly lift his touch so he just barely grazed your nipple, and you let out a whine when he did. His hand briefly paused when he reached your collarbone as if he was going to change his mind, but he carefully wrapped his fingers around your neck and leaned down to brush his lips against your ear.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” He whispered before dipping his head down and attaching his lips to your neck.

While one hand tilted your neck to give him better access, his free hand trailed down your stomach and towards your center. The knot in your stomach grew the closer he got, but he was taking his time with you. Relishing in the moment he never thought he would have again.

“Quinn,” You whimpered, “Please.”

“Please what, baby? I need you to use your words for me,” He briefly broke his contact with your neck.

“I need you to touch me, please,” You were begging him, needing him to give you the release that no other man has before.

“Good girl.”

He slid one finger into you, an almost pornagraphic moan echoing off the tiles of your bathroom. You threw your head back against his shoulder, gripping at the slick shower wall for any sort of support before your knees buckled from under you. He carefully moved his digit inside of you, stretching your walls so he could add another.

“Jesus, baby. You’re so tight,” He groaned into your ear.

“‘S because no one’s touched me- Oh fuck,” You cried out as he inserted another finger, “No one’s touched me since the last time you did.”

Quinn knew he shouldn’t be as turned on by that as he was, but he couldn’t help it. Knowing that you didn’t let another man have you the way that he did only made him harder, and he didn’t think that was possible.

You were writhing against him as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, your moans filling his ears like they were his favorite song. He moved his thumb to press against your clit, and it was then that Quinn had to use his own strength to keep you standing. He worked his fingers against you, and he’s gotten you to the finish line enough times to know that you were already just about there, so he didn’t stop.

“Oh my god,” You cried out as his thumb rubbed circles and his fingers curled inside of you, “I’m almost the-Fuck.”

“I know, pretty girl. I know,” He murmured, keeping his pace steady.

Your legs are shaking and your vision becomes spotty as the knot inside you comes undone. He captures your lips with his own as you come all over his fingers, kissing you with the same amount of passion he’d had before everything happened. He was still supporting you with the hand that was previously on your neck, but you slowly regained the strength to support yourself as you came down from your high.

“You okay,” He asked, turning you around so that the water was no longer hitting your front.

“More than okay,” You gave him a sloppy smile, still slightly dazed from your orgasm.

“Good, because that was only the beginning,” He smirked, switching places with you so he could back you into the corner of your shower.

You watched as he turned and shifted the shower head so that it was spraying against the two of you as much. You pulled your brows together in confusion as you questioned him, “What about you?”

“What about me,” He feigned confusion as he slowly fell to his knees.

“You know what,” You quietly spoke, eyes wide in anticipation as his hands gripped your thighs.

“I’m getting all I need, baby. Don’t worry,” He glanced up at you, eyes sparkling with pleasure.

His fingers trailed against your thighs that were wet with a mix of water and your own juices. Goosebumps rose in wake of his touch, sending a shiver throughout your entire body. You kept glancing down at him with your lip pulled between your teeth, your heart still rapidly beating from your orgasm only minutes ago.

Quinn spread your legs with his hands before placing feathered kisses on the inside of your thighs, eliciting a few breathless moans from you. He stopped when he got against your aching core, his breath hitting it as he spared you one more glance.

With a swift movement, he was lifting your leg over his shoulder and then he was diving into you like it was his last meal. His facial hair was tickling your inner thighs, but all it did was add to the sensation flowing through your body. His hands were gripping at your legs to not only keep you steady, but to give him something to hold on to.

He was devouring you in a way that made it seem like he was enjoying it more than you were, but you highly doubted that to be true. His tongue worked against as he led you to yet another orgasm, mouth sucking and swirling in all of the right places. You tugged on his hair as you felt the familiar fire burning in your stomach, your head hitting against the tile wall.

Your second orgasm ripped through your body, rendering you temporarily blind yet again. He carefully placed your leg back beneath you, placing open mouth kisses against your stomach as he stood leaving behind a mixture of his saliva and your cum against your skin. He attacked your lips with his own in a dizzying kiss, his hands cupping and squeezing at your breasts.

“I’ve missed you so much,” He mumbled against your lips as he placed his forehead on yours.

“I missed you too. So much, Quinn,” Your eyes became misty with tears, but you tried to push them back.

“I’m not trying to ruin the moment or anything, but thank you for giving me a second chance. I definitely don’t deserve one, but I will keep my promise and do whatever it takes to win you back.”

You pressed a gentle, chaste kiss to his lips before saying, “Well, you can start by properly fucking me.”

The softness in Quinn’s eyes darkened to something full of desire and lust, but he still managed to keep the look of pure admiration and love. His hands found purchase on your hips, pulling you into his chest and meeting your lips with a hungry kiss. You could feel him pressed against your thigh, and it made the already wet pool between your legs worsen.

“Need you to hold on to me baby. Wanna look at you,” He instructed as he pulled away, gesturing for you to wrap your arms around his neck, “Good girl.”

Quinn rubbed himself between your folds, teasing your entrance and watching your face twist in desire and want. Slowly, he pushed himself inside of you and let out a mangled moan as your walls clenched around him. He paused and let you readjust to his size, doing his best to remain still and not roughly jerk his hips back.

“Move,” You whimpered, bucking your hips forward for any sort of friction, “Please move.”

With your pleading, Quinn was pulling himself nearly all the way out and slamming back in at a pace he knew you both liked. His thrusts were hard and deep, filling you in just the right way to leave you gasping for more. He grabbed one of your legs and hooked it on his hips to allow himself a better angle, and you swear you blacked out for a second. You were grateful for the strength he has from hockey or you’re certain you’d both be on the floor by now.

Your loud moans mixed with his own, surely filling the entirety of your apartment with the sound. A part of you hoped your neighbors couldn't hear, but a bigger part of you didn’t care. You finally had him back, and the both of you were making up for lost time. His hips snapped against your own as he brought his free hand back up to your neck, squeezing at the sides with the pressure he knew wouldn't hurt you.

You were clenching around him, sending him into a fit of blinding, white hot ecstasy. No matter times Quinn had imagined you when he fucked his own hand, it was absolutely nothing compared the real thing. Watching as your eyes screwed shut and his name fell from your lips in desperate whines was a sight he would never get tired of.

“Oh my god, Quinn,” You shakily cried out, your eyes rolling backwards and the top of your head hitting against the shower wall as he thrusted into you, “Jesus, fuck.”

“Such a pretty girl,” He praised as his hand dove between your bodies, his fingers coming to rub at the bundle of nerves, “You look so pretty wrapped around me, you know that? Fuck, you feel so good.”

You were gripping at his back as he split you open, your vision coming in and out as he rubbed at your overstimulated clit and repeatedly slammed into you. Your name was tumbling from his lips in grunts, only tightening the coil in your stomach as his forehead dropped to your shoulder. You could feel the heat swirling inside you as he rammed himself into you, and you knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

“Quinn, I’m going to- I’m gonna,” You stuttered as he worked himself deeper, harder.

“I know, baby. Let go,” He whispered your name like it was holy and just, “Come all over my cock, pretty girl.”

His words sent you flying over the edge, your third orgasm of the night sending you into a fit of unmistakable pleasure. Waves of contractions washed over your body as Quinn fucked you through your orgasm, his own crashing over him not too far after. His thrusts became sloppy and slow as he came inside of you, his head burying itself into the crook of your neck as he let out stifled moans against the skin.

You’re not sure how long you clung to each other with him still inside you, sounds of your heavy breathing replacing the previous moans that were probably still echoing somewhere in your apartment. However, what felt like hours but was probably not even five minutes later, Quinn pulled himself out of you, guiding your still shaking leg back down and keeping your body upright.

“Time to get cleaned up, yeah,” He teased, his thumb and forefinger coming up to grab your chin.

“Good thing we’re already in the shower,” You bantered back, eyelids slowly drooping courteous of the man in front of you.

You lazily pulled Quinn back into your hold, meeting his lips for yet another searing kiss. Yet this time, there was no desperation. There was no hunger. There was only love, and hope. Hope that, despite the damage that has been caused, the two of you will return to the best version of yourselves and let yourselves be happy without worry or fear.

again, please let me know if you see any mistakes. and let me know what you think! xoxox

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #vancouver canucks #quinn hughes smut

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hiraya-rawr · 1 year

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looking for your favorites 3 (sagau)

synopsis !! they can't possibly be your favorite character. . . right?

characters !! wanderer, scaramouche, chongyun, abyss prince aether, razor

note !! EVERYTHING WAS WRITTEN IN MY FREETIME bit by bit, hence why it sometimes sounds a little off i guess? i tried to fix it as much as i could ++ I'm honestly not sure if I can continue writing for the og sagau concept, I keep twisting it into something else eeh- heheheh

contains !! gn reader, mild religious themes, honestly the sagau concept is a little everywhere in this one, i couldnt seem to settle on one type, spoilers on sumeru's archon quest, scaramouche/wanderer spoilers

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A Genshin Player typically has a variety of characters to choose from. Such options can range from free-to-play characters to limited five stars. Regardless of how much one invested in the game, they're bound to have at least a handful of options.

This is what all characters are aware of— that they are options among hundreds to thousands of vision holders across Teyvat, with every character being special and enticing in their own way.

There's no way they could be the favorite.

Right?

[x] WANDERER

He doesn't quite know who he is.

He doesn't understand what his purpose is either.

He just wanders, lost, nation to nation in hopes of maybe discovering a sense of fulfillment.

And with all the wandering he's done, he -of course- has heard about you. A special entity to this world. A small part of him wonders if you'd know the answers to his questions (or perhaps, you could make use of him? If he could be useful to someone like you, then surely he would feel fulfilled?).

Despite his quiet hopes, he wasn't in any rush to find you. Nor did he hope for you to actually make use of him. He just continued wandering, from the mountains of Liyue to the forests of Sumeru— all the way to where he is now. The barren desert, with nothing but sand for miles and miles to see (and perhaps that rather intimidating, flipped pyramid at a distance).

Needless to say, he wasn't expecting you of all people to follow his tracks out into the desert.

At first you were just a spech amongst the sands, then you became clearer with your approach, showing more and more the familiar features he once saw in passing amongst statues or paintings.

When you were finally within hearing distance, you raised a hand as if to call out his name, hesitating for a moment before deciding what to say—

"Wanderer!"

He tilts his head, pausing to face you as you walk closer. The sand around you stills, as if no longer fighting against every footstep you take, and instead assisting you to come closer.

"You are. . . the one this world was created for, right?" He asks unsure as soon as you were close enough

"I suppose I am?" You reply with a laugh, and he finds that he quite likes your laugh. "I tried looking for you, I'm glad I caught up before you got too deep into the desert."

"You tried looking for me. . ? Why?"

"Because how could I visit Teyvat without meeting you?" You smile softly. He looks away, it doesn't make sense.

"Meeting me, huh. . . then may I ask for a favor?"

"Anything you want."

His eyes catches yours -sunlight hitting them just right- and without missing a beat, "Can I be of use to you? Can you give me purpose?"

You freeze, hands to your side as you stare back at him. In truth, you were expecting something like this, but now? So soon on your first meeting? He looks back seriously.

"Sca– Wanderer," You begin, "You're doing this. . . to find out who you are, right?"

He nods. You sigh.

"Well. . . I know a friend back in the city who can help you. They're a traveler as well. In fact, you can say they're a friend of yours!"

"A friend of mine. . ?"

"Trust me. You'll love them. And shall we go back?"

Go back? He wonders. There's miles and miles of sand around you.

"It would be nightfall soon. I don't think we'd be able to make it back today. I'm sorry."

You turn to him, lips in a wide smile. There's something wrapped between your fingers as you hold it out for him to catch. He opens his palm, it settles down slowly— it's. . . an anemo vision. Glowing brightly.

"Why walk when we can fly?" You grin.

bonus :

"Don't you feel hot at all?" You whine, shielding your eyes from the glare of sunlight.

"I have a hat."

"I see. . . "

[x] SCARAMOUCHE

* It's conflicting, really. Scaramouche despises gods— their invisible influence taunting him like he was a defective product, like he should be ashamed to ever think he could stand on their level.

* You were... an oddity in his feelings towards such powerful beings. The world was made for you, catered to you, and people naturally adored you (just like how they adored the traveler you've shown your favor to).

* So when you, the being which his very world was created for your entertainment, landed in Teyvat, as human as any human could be— he didn't know what to expect.

* He didn't care. There are hundreds for you to meet, and he's not about to wait in line, dilly-dallying for your attention like a common peasant.

* But in the open halls of the Tsaritsa's palace, you approach with the quick pattering of your heels.

* The crowd of Fatui workers naturally part as soon as they noticed your approach. It's odd enough to hear that the player begged to go to Snezhnaya -land of nothing but barren snow- but to rush to Scaramouche's main headquarters? Unheard of!

* Yet there you were, face to face with a single option out of hundreds (the single option you chose).

"What in Teyvat are you. . ." He trails off, his face scrunched between irritation and shock. He doesn't know what to say, really. Would insulting you incur some sort of divine fury?

"I came looking for you!" You reply.

He thinks you're an idiot. He shouldn't call you that, right? Would it damn him to the abyss or something?

"Why. . ." He tries to form the words, "Why in Teyvat would you–" He pauses, looking around at the small crowd.

With a glare, the Fatui agents scatter away from the hall. It doesn't take much to scare them away like little rats. As he turns back to you, you look back unafraid, if not a little excited.

"Why are you here? Do you pity me, is that it?" He asks with a bite to his voice.

"Yes."

"I– what? So you admit it?" He scoffs, is there a limit to your shamelessness? Is this a trait natural to the gods? "Unbelievable."

"I pity you, everything you went through, but that's not the reason why I'm here! Isn't it obvious?" You say, a wide grin beginning to form, "You're my absolute favorite!"

He freezes. What? Absolutely. . . favorite?

As if understanding his speechlessness, you continue on, "I've been wanting to meet you since the very first event– ahem, first time I saw you!"

"You truly are an odd one." He mumbles under his breath because why him? Why the one who was abandoned and used numerous times? He's merely a puppet without a heart.

An empty vessel.

"And why should I believe you?" He says unconvincingly, arms folded. He notices the little chatter behind the walls, those darn recruits are listening in.

"Why would I be here if you're not my favorite?" You quip back.

He scoffs, "I don't know, but there's certainly something wrong with you in the head. You're not exactly what I expected."

"If you were expecting a certain level of power, then I could still do that. I can give you gifts."

". . . gifts?" He tilts his head.

"Artifacts, weapons, talents— they're all for you since the very beginning anyway!"

Artifacts, weapons. . . power? He thinks. Truly, if you were such an ultimate being, you could provide him anything? As if pondering over it, he suddenly pauses.

Yes, indeed you could give him these things.

But why him?

Because of favorites?

How could he be favored when he was once thrown away.

". . . Can you give me a gnosis?" He says, voice uncharacteristically soft.

"Um. . . we'll work on that. Maybe on the later arcs."

[x] CHONGYUN

* Despite modern Liyue's sovereignty from gods, it's still a nation that values traditions and piety. It's natural that with your arrival, you only deserve the best!

* That included invites from some of the highest ranking nobles and guilds. It's no surprise that Xingqiu, the second son of the largest Commerce Guild, makes an appearance to greet you in the Jade Palace, his brother and parents already done with their turns.

* Xingqiu expected a lot from you, maybe discussions of the arts (or perhaps you're even interested in novels?). What he didn't expect was for you to ask such a random question.

"Oh Xingqiu! You're here! Ah– but where's Chongyun?"

He only pauses for a second. Chongyun may be the son of a longstanding exorcist clan, but they're not much to boast about in terms of influence or wealth. Chongyun is... well, Chongyun. His dear best friend.

"I apologize, I wasn't aware that you'd like to meet him as well. Chongyun should be. . . hmm around the harbor by now, perhaps." He stands straight from his bow, "We were planning on meeting after this, your Holiness, to look for haunted h— I mean, to stroll Wuwang Hill."

You already know what they're up to as you clasp your hands together.

"Excellent! I'll go with you!"

"Wait- what?"

* Oh poor Chongyun, he would be a frantic mess in disbelief. It was hard enough to believe that you suddenly went to Liyue, but to approach him of all people? Did you mistake him for someone else? Are you going to ask for directions? Did he do something wrong?

* The thoughts swirling around his head is enough to destabilize his yang energy as you helplessly reassure him that you're there because you want to meet him as soon as you could.

"Chongyun!" You rush up to him, arms wide in an embrace— the cryo allogene freezes in place, stares with his cat-like eyes in wonder because wait, wait, wait– is the one and only controller of this world approaching him for a hug?

"I- Wait, me?" He stutters, tumbling over his words as you smile. His arms are awkwardly raised, unsure if he should hug you back.

"Yes! I met Xingqiu a while back and was wondering why you weren't with him."

"You- you were looking for me?"

"Of course I have! I've always wanted to meet you in person like this!"

As you squeeze him in your arms, you feel him go limp as his face turns red in heat.

"Oh no! His yang energy!"

[x] ABYSS AETHER

Aether knew he was damned. The minute he resolved to see through everything till the end, despite everyone thinking otherwise, he knew no one would understand why he decided to do this.

Alone, is how he decided to do this. So he sits lonely on a throne in the nave of what seems to be a dark cathedral. The walls depicting menacing murals of an era where everything went wrong. The abyss mages that normally float in worship are no where to be seen, just the way he wanted it.

Until you appeared, the little soft patter of footsteps echoing down his aisle, the heavy doors moving back to reveal your underwhelming entrance. He sees you and he wonders if he expected you to come, to blame him or get angry because how could he stray so far from his oh-so-favored sister, Lumine.

Yet, you walk up to him with a look of what seems to be sorrow.

"Are you here to blame me?" He asks and his voice echoes against cavernous walls.

"Blame you? No. . ." You reply.

"Then do you pity me?"

"Aether, I just want to understand." You confidently say, finally by the foot of his throne. He doesn't feel comfortable looking down on you like this, not you, so he stands to approach your eye level.

"Shouldn't you already understand?" He questions, curious.

"I— don't. . . I don't know everything there is to this world."

Aether frowns. Maybe because he was hoping that you of all people -mortal or god- would understand why he's doing this.

"That isn't my problem. There are bigger things for me to think about." He turns away and just before he could take the first step;

"I don't know everything about this world but if it's you– then I want to understand. I'm sure you have your reasons. I trust you more than anything."

He pauses, face in wonder, because how could you trust someone so blindly?

With an exhale and a decision made, he turns to you, "Then follow me. If you want to understand why, then stay with me."

"Okay."

[x] RAZOR

It was a classic welcome— arriving in Mondstadt, touring around the city, greeting the characters you've always wanted to meet. Despite their initial formalities and decorum, you've managed to tone down the professionalism and started to treat each other as friends.

That didn't mean they weren't very open to the idea of you meeting the less. . . civil of the bunch.

"I'd like to visit Wolvendom." You tell the small group. It's another day in the city, enjoying drinks by the taverns under the sun. Lucky for you, the Cavalry Captain and the Outrider have their time off to enjoy with you.

"Oh? Is there a reason why?" Kaeya leans back, head tilted.

"To be honest. . . I wanted to visit Razor. I'm sure you know him!"

Truth be told, you just wanted to meet a certain good wolf cub hidden in the woods. While everyone has went out of their way to meet you, Razor kept to himself in Wolvendom. Perhaps he was too intimidated by the crowds pouring into Mondstadt, or maybe he just wasn't familiar about you, but Razor was nowhere to be seen since your arrival.

". . . Razor?" Kaeya says hesitantly, "Hmm while I have no problem with you going to Wolvendom to meet him, there is another issue. . ."

"What issue?"

"The knights decided not to let you meet Razor," Amber quips in, "I mean– It's not that there's anything bad about him, it's just that he hasn't learned his manners yet. We thought it might be disrespectful if he met you so soon."

"Disrespectful?" You voice out in shock.

"Of course we know that you're not strict about that now! But I guess we never clarified the situation with Razor. . "

You huff, standing up tall with new resolve, "That's it! We're going out to find Razor and give him the biggest hug ever!"

"We are?" They echo back in unison.

"Yes we are!" You hook both your arms around theirs, dragging them out the gates of Mondstadt.

ko-fi support || general m.list

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effortandmore · 10 months

Text

the sleeping hours | knj x f!reader

summary: namjoon thinks there must be infinite versions of the universe, and in every one he’s known, he’s meant to love you.

pairing: namjoon x f!reader

rating: explicit (18+ please)

genre: fluff, smut, angst

au: okay. so this is canon-compliant but also maybe a little bit of a time-travel/multiverse au

warnings/tags: here we go... time travel (kind of), discussions of war, descriptions of famine, talks of anarchy/revolution, descriptions of ww2 germany and nazis, minor character death (not a tannie), implied gun violence, the japanese occupation of korea, sex worker!namjoon, soldier!namjoon, architect!namjoon, idol!namjoon, spy!reader, namjoon has a big dick (ofc), mentions of blood... smut, including: biting, unprotected sex, sex work (this is not the unprotected sex), oral sex (f!receiving), a little bit of cumplay... idk i think that's all but honestly it's not as weird as it sounds i promise

word count: ~12k

a/n: i have wanted to write a songfic for "here i dreamt i was an architect" by the decemberists for... years now. and with my three month vacation from work, i've finally done it! listening to the song will help this make more sense, but essentially there are three verses, and they start like this: "here i dreamt i was a soldier," "here i dreamt i was an architect," & "and in spain i was a spaniard." so, i thought it would be fun to turn that into a story about namjoon and reader across all these different universes. my research for this fic was completely unhinged, and i'm sure i still got some things wrong. if you need translations for any of the dutch, german, or spanish in this, lmk but i think it's pretty readable given context. i hope you like it, but even if you don't, i'm glad i wrote it. thank you so so so much to @ugh-yoongi who assured me this was not too unhinged for the locals—ily and i appreciate you

read on ao3

Namjoon always tells people he doesn’t have dreams, but it’s a lie… Sort of.

If these are dreams, he doesn’t know how billions of people aren’t talking about them like they’re magical experiences, can’t fathom why so many people still don’t believe in multiverse theory.

Lying about it seems infinitely easier than trying to explain it to people. His “dreams,” if that’s what they are, seem so real. He can smell the scents, he can feel the rain and the blood and the orgasm that courses through him when he inevitably, in every single one, finds a version of you. When he wakes up, he can feel the phantom pain, feels like his skin’s just barely dried out from a shower, feels loose and lazy with the pleasure he’d felt while he was asleep.

So, he says he doesn’t dream, because he’s halfway convinced they’re actually happening, and he has absolutely no clue how to explain that to anyone. He thinks there must be infinite versions of the universe, infinite versions of him. At first, he thought maybe it was a past-lives sort of thing, but he’s lived parallel paths on different parts of the planet during the same time frames. Or, he’s dreamt that he has, anyway… maybe they’re dreams. Maybe not. What he’s sure of, though, is that you must be out there in the universe he lives in—you must exist outside of this near fugue state where he always finds you. If you’re on the streets of Germany during the war, if you’re in Andalucia dancing the flamenco and catching his eye on every twirl… If you’re fleeing with him to Jeju as more and more Japanese soldiers encircle your small farm town… If you’re all of those places, he knows you must be here, too.

There must be infinite versions of the universe, and in every one he’s known, he’s meant to love you.

Every dream is different, but the love he feels for you? It’s always the same, and it goes like this:

Birkenau, Germany — April, 1942

He comes to, and he’s lying in a cot. It’s dark. It would be pitch black, except there’s a crack of light on the floor that’s muted and warm-looking even though the air around him still carries a bit of leftover winter chill. Somehow, he knows there’s a coal shortage this spring because of the war. There’s an everything shortage, really. No coal, no clothes, no food… He can’t think of a time he’d eaten anything but potatoes in days… Namjoon can’t think of anything, really. It’s strange, his memories feel dull, rounded around the edges and blurred out, everything just slightly out of reach. Maybe it’s lack of sleep, maybe it’s hypothermia (he’s a little dramatic), maybe it’s hunger; he doesn’t know. Doesn’t want to know, because there’s not much to be done about whatever it is. Knowing the future doesn’t always mean you can change it, he thinks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

The clothes he is wearing are stiff—they make it hard for him to bend his elbow to reach his own face. There’s a worn crease in his right sleeve from saluting, dirt that will never scrub out on his lapels… his badges and patches do a poor job of covering the wear and tear. Although his brain isn’t fully awake, the thoughts still cloudy, two are clear: he is ready for this war to be over and he is terrified that he is a little in love with the woman lying next to him.

If someone asked him how he got here, to Birkenau, Germany in the middle of the spring in 1942, he couldn’t tell them (a consequence of for some reason not remembering anything concrete prior to this week at the moment—just feelings and sensations and language and you). He feels as if he doesn’t belong at all and at the same time, as if he’s always existed right here.

He teases you awake slowly. Whispers sweet nothings to you in a language he finds himself surprisingly fluent in—it’s not his native one. He doesn’t know if it’s yours, either, but he knows you like hearing his voice. Remembers how you ask him to tell you stories of his home, how you hum softly along with the folk songs he sings to you when he thinks you’re almost asleep in his arms. He knows he likes the noises you make as you start to come to, knows you need a soft re-entry into wakefulness or else you’re a little off for the rest of the day.

You’d both fallen asleep after what some people would call lunch, although the persistent pit in Namjoon’s stomach would argue that. It’s hard to have energy when you can’t really eat, so the two of you do your best to conserve it.

Tonight, though, tonight he wants to be special. The carnival is in Birkenau this week, maybe longer, but he won’t know. He’ll leave soon, onto the next base, the next battle. It’s a miracle he’s able to go tonight, being a foreign soldier here is dangerous and the demands on him are high. He wears his uniform while he sleeps to stay warm, but doesn’t dare wear it in this town outside of this private and safe space that you’ve carved out for him. It’s been going on for a while, this sneaking away to be with you. There’s another soldier, Seokjin, on his base, who always covers for him. Namjoon doesn’t know how, it’s one of the fuzzy things he can’t figure out. Regardless, he’s here with you now and he knows he’s always grateful to his fellow soldier. And here, he’s someone different. He’s not Namjoon the soldier, he’s Namjoon who loves you, who will give up almost anything to be with you.

Except the one thing you ask him to.

He may be grateful to escape for a while, but he is duty-bound—loyal to his country, to the cause. He is, above everything, a soldier, and that cannot change. The Remington on the cheap bedside table is his best friend, and a reminder that this between you is dangerous, that it has a time limit.

And you? You have to leave, too. He knows it, you know it. It’s not safe for you here, probably just as dangerous as it is for him.

You don’t wear a uniform, you don’t carry a gun (often), but you move under the cover of the night and you deal in secrets you’re not supposed to know. The work you do is just as important as his—sometimes he thinks it’s probably even moreso. He admires you, adores you, thinks you’re brave and beautiful and brilliant. Maybe he thinks some of those things because of how dangerous you are, because of the risks you’re willing to take. Being with him, hiding him here with you is a big one.

Beside him, you stir. Your voice is a melody, always lilting, tumbling from one word to the next. “Love you, Namjoon. What time is it, baby?” Later, he won’t know why he never thinks it’s strange that you weave words across several languages. Maybe that’s just how all spies are; and that’s what you are, at the core of it, isn’t it?

“Is it time?” you ask into the darkness.

“Yes. I need to change and then we can go.”

“Do you think we’ll find something to eat there?”

Namjoon smiles even though you can’t see him in the dark. “We will. Sausages and sauerkraut, I’m sure.” He waits for you to make the gagging sound he knows you’re about to.

You do. “I hate German food,” you complain. “Can’t wait to get out of here once and for all.”

“They’ll have schnitzel,” he says, trying to make you laugh.

“Germans and their pork,” you say dismissively, “swine for swine.”

“They’re not all bad.” He means it, but it sounds a little weak when he says it. It’s hard to see the forest for the trees, sometimes. Doesn’t help that the both of you see the worst of people… that the both of you sometimes are the worst of people.

“Hmm…” you hum, he knows you agree with him. “I know, I'm sorry. I’m just tired. And don’t want to leave you.”

“I know.”

“You could come with me. Run away with me, Namjoonie.”

When you say it, he almost believes it could work. Knows it wouldn’t, knows you’d both end up dead or worse, knows he could never go home, never see his mother again. Knows it would break his heart to bear witness to the secrets you have to keep, to the lives you take.

He never responds, just lumbers off of the cot and strips his uniform off, trades it for the street clothes you keep here for him. They’re ill-fitting, cheap and scratchy. He loves them because they smell like you, smell like the soap you carry with you from France—lavender from Provence—the one luxury you allow yourself.

The two of you walk hand in hand through back alleys and quaint cobblestoned neighborhoods, making your way to the carnival. He hears the barkers getting louder the closer you get, promising fun and winnings and love and only happy fortunes told. In reality, there are no happy fortunes here, and you both know that. But Namjoon’s happy to give into the fantasy of it all, just for tonight. Just to see you smile. He’d do anything to see you smile. Except…

“Win me a prize,” you coo sweetly. It’s futile, since you never take anything with you, and later tonight (or very early in the morning), you will leave Birkenau for good—a mission needs completing, and dead or alive, you won’t be back here again.

“Whatever you want, jagiya.”

You bounce on your heels in excitement and drag him to a booth, one offering cheap stuffed birds. There are swans, peacocks, parrots, ducks… He doesn’t know what you’re drawn by, but he’ll knock over as many milk jugs as he has to get you what you want.

“My strong soldier,” you whisper in his ear after he knocks the top three over. It makes him grin, makes him show you his dimples. He loves you so much, loves how you tease and bait him with your words—then with your body in the privacy of your hideaway. Loves your confidence and your unwavering belief. Loves your conviction. “You can do it, Namjoon.”

He does.

The final three jugs topple off the ledge. With you by his side, he thinks he can do anything. He knows he can.

“Wähle eins,” the barker shouts at him, Dutch accent thick in his German.

“De pauw,” you answer immediately in his native tongue, pointing to the top shelf.

The man pulls one of the blue birds down and hands it to you with a smile. You can charm anyone, Namjoon thinks. A skill you’ve honed doing the work you do, he supposes. “Voor de dame,” the huckster says with a bow and a flourish of his hand.

You giggle as you take it. Namjoon’s enamored with you.

As the two of you wander (you clutching the peacock tightly under your arm), he watches as you make friends with a fortune teller and charm free pieces of chicken schnitzel from a mustached French man. Your greatest feat is sneaking the two of you onto the ferris wheel. Namjoon’s in awe of how you move—though sleight of hand is usually what he catches you at, you’re not as skilled a pickpocket as you are a liar—how you can weave in and out of a crowd unnoticed, how you can blend in with any surrounding, any language, any group… It’s a skill he wishes he possessed, too. He’s too large, a little lumbering, a little awkward in his long limbs made to feel longer as he loses muscle to months of being malnourished. But somehow, you make him nimble, you make him invisible to everyone but you. He wants to chase that feeling forever, wants to bottle it up and uncork it again when you’re gone, when he’s so desperate with the want of you that he’s got no other solace.

Bellies unusually full, legs tired, and peacock secured, he leads you back to your basement apartment. He pulls you along to follow a different path to return than the one you took there—a trick he’s learned from you. Don’t give people the opportunity to see your face twice.

It’s still dark, and you have no electricity, no oil for your lamps, so Namjoon makes love to you by memory.

He feels so foggy, but this he knows how to do, like he’s done it a million times and will do it a million more until you and he become different versions of the same thing. Maybe you already are.

Slowly, using time you don’t have, he undresses you. He’s careful with the buttons of your blouse after he slides your cardigan off of your shoulders. Takes time to press his nose into the skin of your neck once it’s exposed, to try and remember the way that you smell, that lavender soap and the iron of the hard bathwater and the danger that rolls off of you in waves.

When he lets his arms drop from your body, you walk backward toward the cot, unlacing your skirt as you go. Namjoon can’t see you well, but he hears the sounds of the cotton strings being pulled through the gussets, the soft swoosh of it hitting the floor when you shimmy out of it.

“Come here, Namjoonie,” you whisper. He would, even if you didn’t ask. Wouldn’t be able to help himself. Always pulled to you like a magnet.

“Yes, jagiya,” he breathes, now trembling fingers removing his own clothes as he moves. When he finally can feel your skin under his hand, he’s fully undressed, thinks you are, too. Lets his fingertips explore your limbs just to confirm.

You straddle him on the cot, press your thumbs into the meat of his thighs and tell him he’s brave, powerful, that you’re so lucky he’s chosen you. But he knows it wasn’t a choice. Can’t explain it, but he’s always existed for you, would always find you. Couldn’t choose anyone else if he wanted to.

He doesn’t.

The way you kiss him feels like forever, but he knows better. Chases something deeper and messier as his heart rate rises. Knows you don’t have time to draw it out, knows he won’t be able to be as gentle with you as you deserve. No one’s ever gentle with you, is what you always tell him. People who know you know how dangerous you are and they treat you accordingly. Except Namjoon. Namjoon who reveres you and knows you and he are cut from the same cloth—the one where you need to fight for what’s right at any cost. It doesn’t make you dangerous to people who don’t deserve the battle scars you dole out, he thinks. It makes you a hero. To him, you are a lionheart.

Your palms press into his chest above his own heart and you sink onto his length. Every time you’ve been together seems to bleed together for him, but he knows you know exactly how to move to bring him bliss, knows you feel like the god who seems to have abandoned you made the two of you for one another.

It’s a risk, but he reaches up to pull the thick curtain back just a few millimeters. Wants the sliver of light to illuminate the tendons in your neck with your head thrown back as you ride him. Wants to see the peaks of your nipples, the smooth skin over your ribcage, the mole you have right on the plateau of your collarbone. Wants to let his eyes roll back in his skull, that’s how good you feel, but can’t let himself pull his attention from your body.

“Come here,” he says quietly, wraps his spindly arms around you and pulls you down so your chest is flush with his. “Be with me,” he almost begs, “look at me, love.”

Your hands cup his face, and his guide your hips on top of his.

“I want to feel like this forever,” he thinks he hears you say, and Namjoon can see a tear dripping down your cheek before you lean in to press your lips to his. He licks at your mouth, gets you to open for him, plays melodies along your tongue with his.

He thinks they’re love songs.

He hopes you know.

You’re all tight heat around him, and your nipples brush his chest in time with his tongue brushing yours. Your lavender scent is a balm, your tears drip onto his cheeks from above, and your breaths come shallow and labored as he fucks into you.

“I think I’ll love you forever,” he says.

“Mijn schat...” You whisper, brushing your thumb across his cheekbone and smiling the sad kind of smile. Quietly, you tell him that you want to feel him, beg him to move.

He knows he shouldn’t, but he doesn’t stop. Thrusts into you, lets the sound of his skin against yours get louder and filthier. He knows he should stop. Can’t make himself. “Are you sure?” he asks, but it’s probably too late.

You’re nodding anyway, letting out a sweet little moan when his fingers find your clit and he comes, deep inside of you. Feels like a claim he shouldn’t be making. Gets one back from you just moments later when you squeeze around his softening cock, shuddering with your release above him.

Against his chest, you breathe, and he waits for the moment when your inhales align with his. It’s going to be the last time you share the same air, he thinks.

Your work tonight will be messy. He doesn’t ask what that means, thinks he already knows. Eyes the Remington in his periphery and you give him a tight-lipped confirmation. Yes, you have things you have to do. Yes, they’re worth sacrificing your life if you have to.

Namjoon spends a lot of time wondering about the balance between sacrifice and selfishness.

Never seems to decide where he sits on the spectrum.

Lithe like you are, he should barely feel it when you climb off of him, but it’s a crushing weight. Feels like his heart might be melting, like his lungs can’t expand anymore.

Once you’re dressed—in clothes he’s never seen before, those usually given to people of a different gender, maybe a different time—he watches you toss your skirt into the hearth first, then the clothes you’ve been lending him for your trysts. He watches you find the smallest vial of kerosene and some tinder you’d been collecting and add those, too. It’s as if he can see you in your full vibrancy now: focused on the mission, focused on destroying the you that has existed in this space, the him that has loved you.

The fire burns more brightly than he could have imagined after all the time you’ve spent together in the dark. It allows him to see the hope in your eyes when you lean down to kiss him one last time. Allows him to see the tears you no longer let fall when you hand him the peacock, press it close to him so he can hold it like a child.

“Why the peacock?” he asks when you turn to leave. It’s the only question he can think of that he suspects you’ll give him an answer to.

“Immortality, Joonie. You know, the Greeks thought the flesh of the peacock would never decay? Perfect and enduring even in death.”

“Are you the peacock or am I?”

“I guess we’ll find out,” you say as you heave open the door.

He shudders with the cold gust and wishes he knew what to say. Wishes he could choose you over his gun. Wishes you would choose him over yours.

“Until next time, Joonbug,” you say against the wind.

You pull the door hard behind you, and when it punches shut, Namjoon is startled out of his dream.

Seoul, South Korea — Present Day

“You gotta stop falling asleep in here, hyung.” Jeongguk’s voice is almost drowned out by Seokjin’s laugh.

“I covered for you at the last meeting, told them you were chasing down an idea… don’t interrupt a genius… creative flow… you know.”

Namjoon rubs his eyes and sits up. Of course he’s not in Germany during World War two. Of course he’s in his studio in Gangnam, and apparently he’s slept through a meeting.

He hates these dreams because he feels so thrown off when he wakes up. The pain of losing you always sticks with him for a while afterwards, makes his whole world tilt about one degree. Not enough to change anyone but him, but more than enough to notice.

He loves the dreams because he gets to be with you—tries not to let that thought be concerning.

“What’s that smell?” he asks, still half asleep.

“What smell?”

“Mmm… you know, the lavender smell.”

“Hyung, are you having a stroke?”

“I think people who have strokes smell toast,” Jin says.

“Nevermind,” Namjoon sighs as he gets off the couch. “Thanks for covering for me, hyung.”

“You owe me now.”

“Sure, yeah. Of course.” Agreeing is always easier than arguing with Jin.

Namjoon’s awake enough now to notice the looks that Jeongguk and Seokjin are passing between each other. He knows they know something’s going on with him, sees how they adjust the ways they move around him after these dreams, when he’s out of sorts and halfway out of commission for a half a day or so. It’s not just them, either. Jimin has tried to talk to him about it, but didn’t get very far. Hoseok knows Namjoon’s had a few bad dreams, but that’s the extent of it.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell them, it’s more that he doesn’t know how to explain it without sounding like he’s completely batshit. Doesn’t know how to tell them that he knows you’re real, that he believes in you the same way he believes in the existence of his sister or his best friend, Heeyoung. It’s part of the problem, really. Because every time he has one of these dreams, he finds himself actually looking for you. In real life. In Seoul. In every city they have a show in. Thought he saw you once in Switzerland, but was too afraid to get close enough to know for sure… Still isn’t sure if he regrets that or not.

It really messes with him when he’s in a city that he’s dreamed you in. Once, in Sevilla, he was too fucked up about it to even leave the hotel room. Tried to explain to one of the managers that something bad had happened last time he was there, but it got complicated when Namjoon couldn’t explain when exactly that was.

“What’s on your mind, Namjoonie?” Seokjin’s tone is gentler now, cautious.

“Spain.”

Another look of concern between Jeongguk and their hyung.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jeongguk asks softly. “Sometimes it helps to talk about things—you taught me that.”

He can’t help but smile at that. Caught in his own words. And he’s so tired of this, so tired of feeling like no one will understand… he’s tempted. To be honest, he could probably talk about it with Taehyung. Maybe that’s what he should do, he thinks. Tae would listen, wouldn’t judge him. But maybe Jeongguk and Seokjin wouldn’t either. Namjoon has assuredly done more questionable things than possibly believe in a ghost. Or whatever you are.

He sits back down on the couch. “I’ve been having these weird dreams,” he says.

“About Spain?” Jeongguk and Seokjin find seats to settle into, too.

“About a girl, mostly.”

“Want to tell us about her? Is she Spanish? Is she someone you know?”

“I’m not sure,” Namjoon admits. “She’s whoever I want her to be, I think.”

Seokjin’s eyebrows almost lift off his face. “Okay, Namjoonie. Why don’t you tell us about these dreams?”

Namjoon nods. “Well, the one I just woke up from, we were in Germany.”

“All of us?” Jeongguk asks.

“No, I don’t think so. Just her and me. I think hyung maybe, too, but I never saw him in the dream.” He gestures to Seokjin.

“But you have these dreams often?”

“Yeah.”

“And one of them was in Spain?”

Namjoon’s not sure what they’ll think of him once he tells them, but maybe he doesn’t have to give everything away, he decides. Maybe he can just tell him about one of the dreams and see what they think.

“Yeah, I can tell you about it if you want.”

Jeongguk nods eagerly and Jin does, too. He supposes he can’t back out now.

“Alright… well, here’s what I remember…”

Andalucia, Spain — Summer, 1913

The heat is relentless.

Namjoon sweats so much under normal conditions—this is borderline torture. If it were up to him, he’d be back in Sevilla with you, content in the small pension you both scrape together rent for every week. It’s shaded by the orange trees surrounding it, feels safe and private and cool, and most importantly, it’s yours.

Ronda is less forgiving. Maybe because he doesn’t know it as well, isn’t sure who might be someone to know and who might just be pretending. He’s done this for long enough that he thinks he has a pretty good sense for it, but he’s still sucked into having his time wasted on occasion. Wouldn’t mind it so much except it’s time spent away from you.

Blas Infante has been yelling on the steps for a while. His throat should be raw, but the adrenaline of agitating the people of Andalucia keeps him fresh, voice ringing clearly through the square. Namjoon has been watching the wealthiest in the crowd drift away, paying attention to where they’re going, making sure he’s got a line on which bars and cafes will be the best to move on to. The time is about right, he thinks. They’ll be a few drinks in and soon the wider crowd will disperse. Wants to make sure he can find a seat at the bar next to someone rich, attractive if possible. If they’re a little desperate that’s even better.

They probably all will be given the way the political winds are shifting in Andalucia.

As he turns from the crowd, he hears Padre de la Patria Andaluza shout, “the moment has come for the privileged to die!” The remaining crowd roars like the lions on their flags, angry and proud. He agrees with them—as long as he gets his money first.

When he slides onto the barstool, he makes sure to order his own drink first. Chilled palo cortado says he’s from around here but maybe a little down on his luck, otherwise, he’d be drinking Fundador.

It’s strange, he knows he grew up poor, but he can’t remember any of the details. It’s as if his whole life before knowing you is completely out of focus. He feels the resentment, though, the frustration of knowing there’s more for the taking if you have the right family, the right education, the right skin color.

But he’s older now and while it’s there, it’s in the background. Because he knows how to get his share, knows now that it’s also for the taking if you have a nice smile, a silver tongue, and a willingness to do whatever it takes to succeed—including changing your definition of success. Including sacrificing the things you believe in the most.

Good thing the only thing Namjoon believes in anymore is you, and you’re willing to stick by his side no matter what.

She’s not anywhere near as attractive to him as you are. She’s round in all the places he likes—soft hips, soft stomach, thick ass, but there’s something with her face. Too drawn, a little gaunt in a way that doesn’t suit her. It’s age maybe, she’s got to be thirty years older than him.

Age is another one of those tricky things that feels a little elusive to him.

He thinks he’s around nineteen and she’s probably fifty. Doesn’t care, really, as long as she’s got pesetas.

She does. A lot of them.

He fucks her slow in a room above the bar and calls her “Princesa” because she asks him to. Because she’ll pay him more if he does, because he knows how women like her work. It’s been quiet between them since he took her upstairs. They don’t talk about her husband, her children… They don’t talk about you.

She shifts a little below him and it almost hurts. He’s not used to sex so dry like this—makes it hard to imagine it’s you beneath him. Digs his thumbs into the flesh at her hips and tries to picture you instead, but her noises aren’t as sweet as yours, her skin isn’t as supple.

At least, he thinks as he thrusts over and over to her guttural cries, he’s doing this for you. For the future the two of you have dreamed of since you were basically kids and he would throw stones at your window after dark to sneak a piece of your attention. He’s fairly certain you almost have enough saved up to escape, to get away from your father and brother who have never once approved of Namjoon. In their eyes, it’s bad enough he’s a foreigner, but then he has the audacity to be poor in addition.

He wants to give you a good life. There’s still a part of him that thinks someday he can give you an honest one, as well. There’s a part of him that hopes he’s not only his mistakes like your father thinks, that he’s capable of so much more than the world has allowed him to give so far. He thinks you see it, too. He’s pretty sure that’s why you stay.

As the work drags on, he realizes he’s made a critical mistake—he didn’t ask her how much she’d had to drink, didn’t think to slip the bartender a note to water it down a bit. Feels like she’s never going to come, and he can’t leave a job undone. God, he just wants to get home to you. Wants to take a lavender-laced bath with you and cleanse himself of this sin and the thousand others he’s committed before it. Wants to start on new ones with you.

The thought of you: in your orange grove, smelling of sun-dried linen and laughing while he chases you… it gives him the will to keep going.

Ironic that his love for you is the reason his cock is buried in someone else.

Eventually, she comes, and he lies and says he does, too. Makes quick work of ridding himself of the condom with his back to her. This isn’t the first time he’s lied. Would he sound like too much of a romantic if he said he’s only ever had an orgasm with you?

For tonight, his patron seems satisfied, romanticism or not. She asks to see him again the following week and he tells her all about how he’d love to, but he just doesn’t have the money, see? So, if she wants to see him, it wouldn’t be possible unless…

She’s more generous than he’s expected. What she gives him to come back to Ronda will pay for a month of your pension. He shoves it in his pockets and tells her he’s going to get them another bottle of sherry from the bar.

When he slinks out into the finally cool night air, all he feels is relief. He’s going to make it in time to hop the late train back to Sevilla, back to you.

He looks up and down the cobblestone street, taking a second to remember which direction he came from. Notices a man watching him, seems like it should matter, but all that matters is getting back to you.

Namjoon counts his earnings under the moonlight as the train rumbles through the countryside. It’s enough. He’ll need to count what’s at your home to be absolutely sure, but he thinks it’s enough to get you out of there. You dream of Valencia—of a different kind of orange grove, of thick and salty sea air, of vacations in Madrid or Barcelona, strolling the markets and church grounds.

He looks out the window at the moon and thinks of how bright your face will be when he tells you the good news. He looks at the stars and hopes they will guide you both faithfully to a better life.

The train pulls into the station at Sevilla several hours later. Namjoon feels like the time just slipped away, doesn’t quite know how he passed it. Maybe the wine was stronger than he’d first thought…

It’s quiet in Sevilla at this time of night, but he doesn’t pay too much attention to the bustle in front of him, the same man from outside the bar in Ronda rushing up the road ahead of him. Must be in a hurry to get somewhere—Namjoon can relate, he’s in a hurry to get home to you. His bag is weighed down from the coin he’s bringing home, but oddly enough, he feels lighter than ever knowing he may never have to give himself to someone that isn’t you again.

It’s freedom.

After years of conning and scraping and scratching to climb out of the poverty he’s known, he finally has hope for something better. Because of you, because you gave him something to believe in and to fight for.

Tomorrow, he’ll take you to the gardens at the Alcazar, and amongst the flowers and the peacocks you love, he’ll give you the news—tell you it’s finally time. Maybe you can even take the train to the sea that night.

He loves you so much, owes you everything because he gets all that he needs from your company and your faith in him.

As he draws nearer to you, dirt road narrowing as he approaches the pension, he hears raised voices. Yours and someone else’s. Maybe more. It’s all he needs to take off running, can’t fathom why you’d need to be fighting with anyone in the orchard after midnight.

“Namjoon!” you exclaim when you see him sprinting up the road.

He can hear the fear in your voice, and it only makes him come to you faster. “What is it? What’s going on?” he calls. And then he sees them: your father and your brother, gesturing wildly and yelling.

“Mija, you know what he’s doing in Ronda? How disgusting he is? How he’s making a fool out of you, making fools out of our family?”

You’re calmer than they deserve, standing your ground with your arms crossed over your chest, full skirts whipping around you in the breeze. You look brave, intimidating, and more beautiful than ever.

Namjoon starts to understand, realizes he should have known something wasn’t right, that the man in two places would be a problem. Hadn’t let himself believe your father would have had him followed, but why wouldn’t he?

“You know nothing,” you snap at your father. “Mind your own business, old man. I’m not your family anymore. He’s my family now.”

Namjoon joins you in front of the pension, stands by your side, wraps an arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your temple. “I think you should leave,” he says to the men facing you.

Your father spits in his direction, your brother makes rude gestures with both hands. They call him a whore, call him disgusting, claim he’s giving you diseases and ruining you for the god they say you need to meet one day.

(They still believe, Namjoon never has, and you think you already know god—that he lives in the way the birds call a bright greeting to the morning sun and the flowers bend to offer the bees what they both need to live.)

“Leave,” you say firmly. “We’re leaving for Valencia soon—you’ll never have to see us again. I’ll change my name, no one will know the disgrace you think we’ve brought to the family. Just let us be.”

And if Namjoon thought the crowd in Ronda was loud, he hadn’t yet had the screams of your father to compare it to. His face is a violent red, his whole body shakes with his anger, and Namjoon feels scared for the first time in a long time. The arm he has around your waist tightens as your brother pulls a revolver from the back of his trousers.

You are ever courageous—Namjoon can hear your racing heart, but you betray nothing, staring down your brother with iron conviction and pressing in tightly to the man at your side.

“No one will take you from us!” your father yells.

The barrel is pointed straight at the two of you. Namjoon can see your brother’s finger shaking and it’s as if he knows what’s about to happen. He can’t let it, would sacrifice anything for you, already has given up his body and his soul to you in some ways. He’s prepared to do it again. Would never make a choice that wasn’t to protect you. Loves you like you’re oxygen, like he needs you to survive.

He’s nothing without you, but you can be something without him. So, he moves.

And as Namjoon twists to pull you behind him, a single shot rings out through the Andalucian night, louder than a firecracker.

Seoul, South Korea — Present Day

“And then what?” Jeongguk asks, leaning so far in he looks like he’ll topple at any second.

“I don’t know,” Namjoon shrugs, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “That’s when I woke up. I had the window open and I think there was a car accident or one backfiring or something. Startled me awake.”

“That’s so romantic,” Jeongguk sighs. “Don’t you think, hyung?”

Seokjin nods along. “How often do you dream about her?”

“Every few weeks… for a couple of years now.”

“Shit.”

Namjoon explains how he can’t stop thinking about you for days after the dreams, how you always look different in them but he knows it’s you every time. There’s something in the way you speak to him, in the way you know his mind, in the way you move across each time and space so self-assured and brave and admirable. And then the words just keep coming. He tells them about how he always dreams of you existing at night—never in the morning. Never had a dream where the two of you have made it through the night and woken up together in love with no tragedy befalling you. He almost cries when he tells them how badly he wants to find you, how he knows you must be real, a person he’s just yet to meet… Says he’s not sure he believes in something like soulmates, but that sometimes his chest actually aches with the need to know you, to be with you. Tells them that you’re never perfect in any of his dreams, but you’re perfect for him: a partner in crime, a lover, an intellectual rival, a battleground ally, just always by his side making him sharper and better and happier. Tells them that all he wants is the chance to wake up next to you just once, sunlight and joy and no crisis clapping him awake. Tells them how lonely he is in the mornings.

When he finally trails off, out of ways to explain that each time he dreams of you, the desire to find you seems that much more urgent, Seokjin and Jeongguk are speechless. Jin looks like the fish he loves, mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out. Jeongguk is a little teary-eyed and his hand is rubbing careful circles between Namjoon’s shoulder blades.

“You have to find her, hyung,” Jeongguk says softly.

“I know.”

“We’ll help you find her, I promise.”

Namjoon thinks the commitment from Jeongguk is sweet, but doesn’t know how they could possibly help. You look different in every dream, a different voice, name, language… It’s an impossible task made even more challenging by the fact that you probably don’t actually exist. Just a figment of his imagination his brain has made to give him some stress relief, some friendship. He says as much, and he can tell Seokjin agrees with him, but Jeongguk is insistent. At the very least, it’s a little comforting that he’s told them what he feels like is probably his weirdest, deepest secret, and they didn’t laugh at him, didn’t march him upstairs to the company therapist.

After that day, Namjoon feels a little bit better about everything. Better enough that he doesn’t dream about you for a few weeks, starts to forget to look for you in the face of every person he passes. The best part is that he’s really able to focus on their upcoming tour, and by the time he boards the plane to another continent with the rest of the members, he wonders if he’ll ever dream about you again.

It’s been long enough that he misses you a little bit, as ridiculous as it sounds. He doesn’t mention that part to Jeongguk or Seokjin.

They touch down in a new city, and Namjoon rubs the sleep out of his eyes. He’d fallen asleep on the flight—no dreams. It’s early, but they don’t get the day to themselves. They’ll eat a snack in the cars on the way to the venue, run a short rehearsal for blocking and then Namjoon will do some foreign-language interviews from the hotel. He runs a hand through his hair and pulls his mask up, trying to mentally prepare himself a little bit for the remainder of the day. And then he smells it, as he steps into the airport, a gentle lavender scent that’s so familiar he thinks he might be imagining it.

Namjoon stops in his tracks right outside the gate and starts looking. It’s practically instinctual at this point, head on a swivel trying to spot you. It’s so ridiculous and he knows it. But there’s just something… it’s like he knows you’re here.

Unfortunately, it’s a terrible place to be having a crisis, and he’s literally knocked out of his search when another passenger on their phone runs right into the back of him.

“Fuck, sorry,” you say, only glancing up from your phone for a second.

Namjoon doesn’t look at you, just flushes with embarrassment as if anyone could possibly know what he’s thinking. Keeps his head down, says, “no problem,” and tells himself that the weird pit in his stomach is nothing and the smell he’s so drawn to is in his head. The you of his dreams isn’t possibly in this airport in a city on the other side of the world.

He tries to shake it off all afternoon, all evening, but doesn’t think he’s too successful. Thinks he probably fucked up a couple of the interviews, hopes one of his managers would have stopped him if he was too off the mark, though. It’s probably fine.

That night, for the first time in weeks, he dreams of you.

Gyeongsangnam-do, South Korea — Summer, 1931

In these most uncertain of times, Namjoon is sure of two things: you are the most beautiful woman he’s ever known, and he is so much in love with you that he feels shaky with it.

It’s quiet in your father’s farmhouse save for your soft moans. With a rare stroke of luck, your mother and father have left to negotiate with the angry man who owns their land now, and Namjoon has taken advantage of sneaking away from Pukyong’s campus to be with you. He’d come to review plans for a new barn with your father, but finding him gone was a blessing.

You and Namjoon haven’t been able to find much time alone since he left for Busan. He comes back when he can, which isn’t often, and you sneak out to the edge of the fields to meet him under the moonlight. He’s gotten used to fucking you quietly and in a hurry, helping you brush grass and twigs out of inappropriate places when you’re done. This though, this is a luxury, to be with you in your own bed, in the daylight. To be as loud as you both want—Namjoon could write a dissertation on how nice you sound when he fucks you.

You’re slick and tight, and you’re the only home Namjoon’s ever really known. He sucks one of your nipples into his mouth and watches as you arch your back underneath him, whine a little, tell him not to leave marks where your parents might see.

Because you’re young and reckless and you’ve both only ever loved each other, he knows he’s got to pull out soon, but it’s hard to remember in the heat of the moment.

You call him “Namjoonah,” you tell him how good he feels inside you, breathy and sweet, running your fingers through his hair to brush it off of his forehead. It’s gentle, the way you touch him, like he’s something worth taking care of. You say all the nicest things to him when he fucks you—you tell him he’s strong and handsome and so big, you always emphasize, widening your eyes and palming his cock through his trousers. It’s probably giving him a little bit of an ego, he thinks, but he likes it anyway. Being the focus of your attention is so flattering. He always wants your eyes on him, your hands on him, your thoughts about him. You make him greedy and selfless at the same time—he wants everything you’re willing to give him and he wants to give you even more in return. Wishes this fucking war were over so he wouldn’t have to be on edge all the time. Knows he’s lucky not to have been conscripted to the Imperial Army yet, but that it’s probably a matter of time.

It’s a blessing, being smart, which people have told Namjoon that he is since he can remember. At least they’ve spared him so far because he’s of more use to them at Pukyong, learning how to be the best architect he can be, than he would be as a soldier. Someday, his own father says, he will build castles for a Korean leader, walls to keep the Japanese soldiers out. Those conversations are had in secret, in whispers and gestures. It’s dangerous to be someone like his father, to think there’s a chance for Korean independence, to fight for it in secret… But it’s dangerous to be fucking you into your mattress when your parents could come home any moment, too, and that doesn’t stop Namjoon.

Like father, like son, as they say.

He’s sure it’s not a secret that he’s your boyfriend. Your parents know him, invite him for meals, they like him. They think he’s a sweet, smart, college boy who’s going to give their daughter a better life than they can someday, and they’re not wrong.

Though, he’s also sure they’d like him a lot less if they knew he was a sweet, smart, college boy who loves your body, loves the way your soft thighs feel around his head when he licks at your core, loves the way he can throw your calves over his shoulders and hold you in place as he thrusts home. Loves the small violet bruises he bites into your skin, hidden away under your long skirts and long linen sleeves. Loves how you let him pull out and cover those bruises with his cum, and then especially loves when you run a finger through it and lick it off—when you tell him he tastes good and you thank him for sharing with you.

They’d think he’s ruined you, and he’d cop to it even though it is absolutely the other way around.

You come with a sweet, loud moan. Your throat sounds a little raw when you say his name again, which only turns him on more. With a few strokes, he follows you, leaving his release across your stomach and breasts and thinking that if all art looked like you do in this moment, he’d change his major.

Lazily, he lies next to you and pulls you close. You should clean up, you should get dressed, Namjoon should be sitting at the kitchen table studying his drawings with his shoulders back and glasses smart across his nose when your father gets home. You don’t want him to leave though, asking him to stay just a little longer, turning your head to kiss him softly.

When he wakes up, it’s dark, and he panics. You’re pliant in his arms, still sleeping, and your parents should be home—what if they’ve seen you? What if they know that Namjoon is taking something sweet from you at every opportunity, paying you back with pieces of his heart?

Maybe it’s time he faces this like an adult, he decides. He’s going to marry you someday anyway, it’s a foregone conclusion. They may not like that you’ve been breaking so many of their rules in secret, but someday you will be his wife, and he will care for all of your family as his own, and hopefully that buys him a little leniency with your father. He kisses your temple and gets out of bed as quietly as he can, pulls his clothes back on, and pads out of your room to meet his fate.

He spots them immediately, and as soon as he has the thought that he’s going to be sick, he heaves all over your kitchen floor. It’s going to wake you up, but he needs to spare you from the scene. Somehow, he gets their bodies covered before you get up. It’s the best he can do but it’s not enough—the scream you let out is haunting, half shock and half anguish. When you crumple to your knees, he holds you, lets you sob and scream into his chest and rocks you steadily. He doesn’t know what else to do.

After that day, he files for a leave from school and essentially moves in with you. You use your anger to fuel you, fighting for independence in secret alongside the bravest Koreans Namjoon knows. Your landlord comes around and neither you nor Namjoon even try to hide your rage and disgust. You spit at his feet and he warns you to be polite unless you want to end up like your parents. Namjoon tries to convince you that the old man isn’t even worth your anger, that you’re better off serving your parents’ memory alive than alongside them in a grave.

As the war picks up, so does conscription. Namjoon thinks he’ll be called any day, but the idea of fighting in the Imperial Army makes him ill. So instead, he makes a plan.

It’s only a matter of months before you’re on the ferry to join him on Jeju. He’s been there, building and fortifying. Perhaps it’s cowardly to cut and run, but he doesn’t care. It’s the only way he can be with you, the only way he can keep you safe. With the farm equipment sold off and a bit of his family’s money, he’s made you a home there, and it’s finally ready for you.

There’s a tearful reunion on the dock, and it’s followed by a trip to the courthouse to get married. It all happens in a daze, the memories hazy and dim, but the way he felt as he kissed you and made you his wife burns in him bright, bright, bright.

He makes love to you on the floor of the new cottage that night, slow and sweet. Tries to make you understand how much he’s missed you, how much he loves you. Thinks he succeeds when you tell him you love him as you come, thinks he’s never seen or heard something more beautiful in his whole life.

Finally, he leads you up the narrow staircase to the room he’s built for you. It’s got a big bed, but not too big, because you always want to be close to him when you sleep. Its wooden floors are made warmer with a rug his mother made for you, a wedding gift. The balcony is small, but he designed it himself, based on a wish you’d told him about, that you’ve always dreamed of a place to read in the mornings. It’s shaded from the eastern sun with a balustrade you can kick your feet up onto. There are crude drawings of your favorite animals carved into the balusters, alternating lions and peacocks. Protection and immortality, built into the home he’s made for the two of you. When you see it, you look like maybe you finally understand the way he cares for you, the way he will do anything he can for as long as he lives to keep you happy and safe.

You let yourself out there, and light up the night with your happiness. Namjoon watches you from the bed. He’s been on the balcony, and it’s small. He’s not technically the architect he always thought he would be since he’s left school for good, but he tried his best with this design, and then tried even more when he built it for you.

Maybe he should have seen it coming, maybe he shouldn’t have been so confident. The funny thing about light and sound is that he sees it happen just barely before he hears it. Sees you stumble a little to your right, sees the balcony wobble and thinks his eyes are playing tricks on him. Then he hears the deafening crack and it’s perfectly timed with his stomach sinking and you disappearing from his view, the balustrade going with you.

New York City — Present Day

Namjoon wakes up in a cold sweat, the alarm blaring next to him. He hates this feeling—the one immediately after the dreams. At least he has most of the day off. The company always gives them time for the jetlag, supposed to be for sleeping, but he’ll use it to shake himself out of this fog that settles in after the dreams. Maybe the Met this time; he saw the Whitney last time he was here and he sort of wants to get out of Chelsea, anyway—thinks the walk might help him clear his head.

He sees you when he’s standing in front of a moon jar, wondering to himself what right these people have to even store this piece and then charge people to see it. Wonders if he could get it back to Korea somehow where it belongs, mutters something under his breath about colonialism and notices you smile at that out of the corner of his eye.

It’s exactly like he’d always thought it would be to see you: immediately he knows. There’s no question. You look different again, not quite like you have in any of his dreams, but you smell the same and you’re wearing a blue and green dress, tight around your figure and flouncy at the hem that reminds him so specifically of a peacock he wants to cry. You smell like fancy French lavender soap and you have a smile that could bring world peace.

The sight of you makes him freeze. What would he even say? There’s nothing he could tell you that wouldn’t make him sound insane, nothing that he’s willing to admit to a stranger, even if that stranger is you. His heart races and he feels himself start to sweat nervously. He’s been looking for you for years, and when he finally finds you, it sends him into a panic. How perfect for him.

He can’t stand in front of the same moon jar forever, though, so he swallows his nerves and stands up a little straighter and begins to turn to you, even if just to introduce himself like a normal person.

Namjoon’s heart sinks when he realizes you’re already gone.

He’s talking to Jeongguk while he sits on the steps of the Met, phone pressed to his ear.

“I know it’s her,” he says, sending Jeongguk into a frenzy of questions.

Namjoon is contemplating the possibility that he’s fucked up his only chance to meet you, when you appear, out of the blue, to take a seat a few feet away from him, he rushes out a “Gotta go, Kookie, bye,” and hangs up as Jeongguk is still talking.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hi.”

“This is probably so weird, but…” You straighten out your skirt and don’t make eye contact. You look equal parts beautiful and nervous. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

Namjoon gets this question a lot. Usually, it’s fans trying to ‘play it cool’ when they run into him in Seoul, trying to give the impression that they don’t immediately know who he is. And yeah, he thinks he’s more humble than some people less famous than him, hates to assume, but it’s always pretty transparent. But, for as much as he gets this question, as often as he brushes it off with an, “I don’t think so,” and a rushed exit from wherever he’s been recognized, he has no idea how to answer it when it comes to you. So, he just gapes at you. It’s mortifying.

“Sorry,” you continue. “It’s just that… Well, this is probably gonna sound crazy, but I think I’ve had dreams about you.”

“Holy shit,” Namjoon says, living up to his reputation as a certified genius and a clever songwriter.

This response flusters you even more, it’s clear you’re embarrassed. The way your eyes flit around and look for an exit from the situation tells him everything he needs to know.

“Sorry again,” you groan more than speak. “Nevermind.”

You start to stand, and Namjoon barely gets his shit together in time to grab your wrist and finally speak. “It’s not weird. I have them, too. The dreams.”

“No fucking way,” you whisper, your eyes wide.

“Yeah.” Namjoon nods in agreement. “How’d you know it was me?” He asks.

“Just knew it,” you shrug, wrist still kept tight in his grasp. “I’m not sure. It’s like… you feel the same. You smell like you, too.”

“Come on,” he says, dropping your wrist finally and standing. “Want to get coffee or something?”

To his relief, you do.

It’s awkward at first. Where do you start with someone you feel like you’ve known forever but you’ve never actually met? Namjoon has a million questions he wants to ask you but none of them seem to fully form in his head. It’s bad enough he has to think through how to not be seen with you—his lifestyle adds a whole layer of complication you’d never faced together in his dreams. Eventually, you knock on his hotel room door about ten minutes after he gets in. It had been a little stressful, waiting for you. He made you promise three times you’d actually show up and then on the fourth one, he made you pinky promise. When you took his little finger solemnly, instead of laughing at him, he was finally (mostly) convinced you’d be there.

And now, here you are, sitting at the little table in his room, clearly trying to be polite and not look at the mess of stuff he’s accumulated in just one night. After all this time wishing he could find you, he’s got no idea what to say to you.

“So… why the Met?”

You smile a little sheepish and shake your head. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”

“I doubt that,” he says, trying to be as reassuring as he can for such a weird situation.

“I thought it’s where the lion statues were… you know… on the steps. I thought if I went there, maybe you’d be there. I was sure it was you at the airport but by the time I realized it, you were gone. So, I guess it was the only place I could think to look for you where you might look for me, too. But they’re at the library.”

“The lions?”

His confusion seems to make you a little shy; you duck your head and shake it, like you’re telling yourself off before you even explain. “You always say I’m like a lion in the dreams. No matter where we are or what’s happened to us. You say I’m strong and brave and beautiful—”

“A lionheart,” Namjoon whispers.

“Yeah,” you brighten at that. “Is it like that in your dreams, too?”

Namjoon tells you it is. And then he tells you about all the dreams he can remember. Not in detail, and not the worst of the bad endings, but enough that the two of you can compare notes. Enough that you realize you’ve been having basically the same dreams, although not at the same time. Both of you have had some the other hasn’t had yet. He loves it when you tell him about one that ended happily, the two of you betrothed in the Joseon era and figuring out how to fall in love. You think it’s supposed to mean something that the two of you are always facing something that’s keeping you apart—you wonder out loud what might keep you apart in reality, too.

“I hope nothing will,” he says without thinking.

“You don’t even know me!” You’re laughing, but he’s clearly taken you by surprise.

“Don’t I, though?” And the mood changes. You swallow thickly and he tries his best not to break eye contact with you even though he thinks you’re so gorgeous he might not make it through the day without passing out. “Can I kiss you?” he asks quietly, but he’s already moving to your side of the table and you’re already scooting your chair back to make space for him.

You don’t kiss like you do in the dreams. In the dreams, you kiss him like he’s the beginning and end, like you’ll take anything he gives you. There’s something nice about that, makes him feel wanted and strong. In reality, you kiss him like you know it’s the other way around. You’re confident, teasing—you smile against his lips when you do a thing with your tongue that makes him let out a moan.

In the dreams, he can’t remember ever kissing anyone but you. But now he’s got your lips on his and you’re definitely not the first person he’s kissed by a long shot, but you’re absolutely the best. It’s almost like having something to compare it to makes it even better.

Maybe there should be some hesitation, but neither of you seem to have any. Not when he pulls you up from the chair so he can kiss you without bending all the way over, not when he walks you back toward the hotel room bed, leaving a trail of tender kisses up your neck and across your jaw in a surprising show of coordination.

It’s inexplicable, he thinks, how he feels like he’s done this a million times with you before but in the best way. He can kiss you without any of the awkward, nervous, first time worries he normally has. He can trust you without knowing quite why, and that part is probably the weirdest thing about all of this because he can’t trust anyone outside of the members and his family usually.

“Is it weird I feel like we’ve done this before?” you ask as you run your hands from his shoulders down his arms.

Namjoon just shakes his head and winds his fingers with yours, leaning in to kiss you again. “No, it’s the same for me,” he says.

Because of the familiarity, maybe, it’s not urgent when you undress each other. He takes time to appreciate this version of you, the one he’s actually holding in his arms, the one who pinches his side gently and then laughs. “Just making sure you’re real,” you say when he yelps in protest.

There’s a moment when you’re both naked, standing in front of the bed, when the air feels thick between you. You’re holding his jaw in your palm and he’s got his hands around your back and neither of you speak for a long beat. For him, it just feels incredible to be here with you. He doesn’t care that he has no idea what you do for a living, where you live… Doesn’t know anything about you except that he thinks he has loved you for a long time. Thinks maybe he was put on this planet specifically to love you. Wonders how the two of you could have messed this up so badly in every other universe, but is actually really glad you did, because maybe that’s why you’re finally here with him now.

“I… I think I love you,” he says timidly. “Makes me feel crazy.”

You have a tear falling down your cheek, but you’re smiling—Namjoon is pretty sure you’re not supposed to be crying before sex like this, but you seem happy. “S’not crazy, I think I love you, too. I’m so happy I finally found you.”

“I looked for you in every city,” he confesses before he presses his lips back to yours, then kisses the tears off your cheeks.

You go soft under him, body pressed into his, and he guides you onto the bed. The two of you laugh into each other’s mouths, mutter how you can’t believe it’s happening, let your breath grow heavier as you take time to learn each other. Namjoon loves it when your lips move against his pulse point, when you get a little rough with him, leaving small bites and bruises in places the stylists won’t give him shit for. You like when he talks to you, tells you how you make him feel, how much he wants to be with you—he whispers right into your ear, the sweetest confessions sandwiched by pure filth that makes your breath hitch and a shiver travel down your spine.

Namjoon’s dreamed you a hundred ways, in a hundred places, but here, spread naked underneath him in this hotel bed and laughing with him while he fucks you slowly is better than any dream he’s ever had.

“Can’t believe you’re real, baby,” he breathes as you run your fingertips down his sides. He looks down to see where his cock is moving inside of you, and he thinks this must actually be a dream. You’re perfect, he thinks as he moves fingers to your clit and presses there gently. When you pull him down to kiss you, it feels familiar again. You brush his hair off of his forehead like you’ve done in every one of his dreams, and now he feels like he could cry—he’s just so overwhelmed by you, so in awe just like he knew he would be. Just as he always has been.

You whisper his name when he makes you come. You tighten around him and dig your nails into his shoulders and Namjoon thinks this is the closest to heaven he might ever get. When you finally work through your orgasm, you encourage him to change positions, to lay on his back and let you ride him.

The way you know exactly what he likes is magical, that deep grinding of your hips in his lap. You don’t have to ask to know what makes him tick, bringing his hand to your lips as you move, sucking two of his fingers into your mouth and whining around them.

He’s always preferred this to something faster. This way, he gets to watch you, feels like you’re taking your pleasure from him, feels like you’re both getting precisely what you want from each other. He could lift his hips and fuck into you, could hold your waist and get you to bounce on his cock like you’re making a sex tape. But this is better. This is you and him, moving like you’re meant to be connected.

You absolutely are, he’s sure of it.

It’s a movie script ending when you come again just as he does for the first time—he wishes he could feel all of you when he spills into the condom, wishes he’d found you years ago and built a more tangible history with you. Hopes more than anything that you want to try to do that with him now.

The two of you clean up with a little bit of shyness; you hide your face as he cleans you carefully with a warm washcloth, and he tries not to let you see him get rid of the condom. It’s not as easy as the dreams where those things sort themselves out, but Namjoon wouldn’t trade these awkward moments for anything.

There’s not really a need to ask you to stay, he knows somehow that you will, but he asks anyway, preens when you agree and ask to borrow a shirt.

He can’t really risk room service with you here, but he gets a manager to bring you food (hand stuck shyly through a crack in the door as to not interrupt), and while you eat, he peppers you with questions about your life. Feels like he knows the important things that are the same as in his dreams (he loves you, you’re loyal), but wants to learn all the mundane stuff, too.

Much later, before the sun rises but after some people would already call it morning, you fall asleep in his arms and he lets himself drift off thinking of lavender and peacocks and falling in love.

Namjoon’s alarm goes off, and the sun must be high in the sky because the light in the room is a bit muted. It’s the first time in a long time he’s woken up content, hesitates for a second before he remembers why, remembers everything that happened the day before, remembers that you were real and here and in his bed and his arms. He lets himself just exist there for a minute, eyes closed, thinking about what might come next, how he’ll explain you to his family…

Then it sort of dawns on him that you should be right there, that he fell asleep wrapped around you and now he isn’t. He panics for a split second when he realizes you’re not pressed against him, doesn’t think he could handle it if this was a dream, too. Tries to be rational, but for some reason can’t quite bring himself just to tip his head over and open his eyes.

Instead, he takes a deep breath, smells hotel laundry detergent and sex and the faintest hint of lavender. He says a silent prayer and then sticks his hand out to the other side of the bed to feel for yours. Thinks he might scream when he doesn’t feel you there immediately.

Namjoon snakes his hand across the sheet and hopes he never has to dream to see you again.

#bts x reader #namjoon x reader #rm x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon angst #namjoon fluff #rm smut #rm fluff #rm angst #bts imagines #namjoon imagine #rm imagine #kvanity #bts smut #bts angst #bts fanfic #namjoon fanfic #rm fanfic

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chelseachilly · 4 months

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i want your midnights

pairing: reader x ben chilwell summary: sequel to i watched it begin again - a month after your amazing first date with ben, you decide to surprise him by showing up at the same new year's party...only to soon wonder if you made a mistake and misinterpreted his feelings for you? warnings: none word count: 2.9k

author's note: a lot of people asked for a part 2 to begin again so i decided to write this little new year's fic! i planned on getting it done by the new year but life got super busy, so i hope you don't mind it nearly two weeks later haha 💗✨

Just over a month after your first date with Ben, you find yourself standing in front of his best friend’s doorstep with shaking hands and your heart thumping in your chest.

Harvey is hosting a New Year’s Eve party, and although you were invited, you weren’t planning on going until today. You spent the holidays up at your parent’s house a few hours away and were planning on spending New Year’s there as well, but Mia spent the past few days convincing you to come and eventually wore you down.

Truthfully, the only reason you were hesitant about coming is that you knew Ben would be there. It’s not that you don’t want to see him - quite the opposite, actually. The past month since you started seeing each other has been wonderful. You’ve been on several amazing dates, including a couple that ended with you spending the night. It’s been fun and passionate and exciting and unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before.

You also haven’t fully defined anything yet, still waiting for the right opportunity to have that conversation. Although you’re certain about your feelings for him, you don’t want to rush into anything after the mess of your last relationship, nor do you want to scary Ben away with asking him to commit too early.

Which is why you’re now questioning your decision to show up here, and even more so your decision to surprise him. It felt like a good idea when he FaceTimed you on Christmas and seemed disappointed you weren’t coming, so you swore Mia to secrecy, but now that you’re actually here, it’s feeling a bit presumptuous that he would want you to show up unannounced.

It’s too late to turn back now, though, as the door swings open and Mia and Harvey are pulling you inside.

“I’m so glad you came, babe!” Mia exclaims, hugging you tight. “You look fit as fuck.”

You’re in a little black dress and matching heels, and though you felt good about how you look when you left the house, you’re feeling more and more self-conscious.

“Thanks, you look gorgeous as well,” you smile back at her. “Thanks for having me, Harvey.”

“Of course, Y/N, I reckon Chilly will be thanking me too,” Harvey laughs. “He’s over there somewhere, he’ll be buzzing when he sees you.”

You can feel the blush creeping on your cheeks as your eyes scan the room looking for Ben. You’re not sure if you’re more nervous or excited to see him, but when you finally spot him, you know it’s the latter. He’s standing there in a group of people, smiling and chatting away with a drink in his hand, looking so gorgeous it’s honestly unfair. The same butterflies that have appeared in your stomach from the first time you laid eyes on him and every time since begin to flutter.

It only takes a few moments for him to spot you over the shoulder of one of his friends, and you watch him do a double take before his eyes widen and a huge grin appears on his face.

He sets his drink down and jogs over to your group, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Y/N! You came!” he exclaims, and you don’t get a chance to respond before he’s pulling you into a hug.

You hug him back, burying your face in his chest and breathing in his scent. It’s only been a week since you last saw him, but you haven’t stopped thinking about him for a single moment of that time apart. You were trying to enjoy the holiday season and time with your family, but your mind was replaying the sound of Ben’s laughter and the feeling of his kisses all over your body.

“Yeah, my plans changed,” you say with a smile as you pull back to look at him.

“I’m so happy to see you,” Ben says, his hand lingering on your waist before dropping to his side, and you immediately miss his touch. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

You’re hoping that he’ll whisk you away somewhere for a few minutes, as you’re desperately wanting to kiss him right now but not sure you’re at the stage where you can casually do that in front of loads of people.

“Vodka soda, right?” Ben asks, and you nod.

You love that he knows your drink order already, but you can’t help but feel a tinge of disappointment as he walks away, leaving you to chat with your friends.

He returns a minute later with drinks for both of you, passing you the glass and clinking it with his own.

“Thanks, Ben,” you say with a small smile, taking a sip and hoping the alcohol gives you a bit of courage.

The four of you chat for a bit, catching up on how all your Christmases were, and you and Ben occasionally meet each other’s gaze and exchange a soft smile. You’ve spent quite a bit of time with Ben by now, but it’s a different dynamic being in a group, even if they are your closest friends. You’re having a nice time, but you’re longing for an opportunity to get him alone - not only to kiss him senseless, but to talk and maybe even define your situation a bit more.

After a while, an upbeat song comes on and you all head to the main living room where most of the partygoers are to dance. It’s fairly crowded and you end up standing close enough to Ben that you can feel his breath on the back of your neck and his chest brushing up against your back. You don’t pull away, enjoying the closeness, but still wishing he would wrap his arms around you properly.

You turn back to look at him after a minute or two and your heart flutters when you find him looking right back at you. You wonder if he’s also waiting for an opportunity to be alone with you - and then you wonder if anyone would notice if you took him by the hand right now and led him into some quiet corner of the house.

“Y/N…” Ben begins to say, inching closer toward you, but he’s cut off by a small squeal from behind you.

You turn to see a rather large wine stain on Mia’s white dress from someone bumping into her.

“Shit, this was expensive,” she sighs. “And I don’t have anything to change into.”

“You can wear something of mine,” Harvey says quickly, trying to help, but Mia immediately shoots him a glare.

“Babe, it’s New Year’s, I don’t want to be walking around in your trackies and a baggy t-shirt-“

“Hey, it’s alright,” you interrupt, setting your drink down and grabbing Mia’s hands. “We can get the stain out. C’mon, I’ll help you.”

You abandon the guys to deal with this fashion crisis, gathering the supplies you need in the kitchen before heading upstairs to the bathroom. As you’re blotting Mia’s dress with dish soap and hydrogen peroxide, a trick your mum taught you, she takes the opportunity to interrogate you.

“So, are you finally going to tell Ben you want to make it official?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” you say, a small grin tugging at your lips. “I want to. I’m just still a bit nervous. After everything that happened with Jack, I don’t want to get hurt like that again. And I already like Ben so much, which is terrifying.”

“He obviously likes you a lot too,” Mia assures you. “Harvey says he talks about you all the time, and did you see his face when you turned up earlier? I bet he’s just waiting for you to bring it up.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” you agree, finishing up your removal of the stain until there’s no evidence of the wine spill remaining on Mia’s dress. “There you go, good as new.”

“You’re a lifesaver, babe,” Mia smiles, pulling you into a tight hug. “I’m going to dry this off a bit, but you should go down and spend time with your man.”

“He’s not my man,” you remind her.

“Not yet!”

You roll your eyes affectionately as you leave Mia to blow dry her dress and head back downstairs to the party, feeling slightly more confident after the chat with your best friend.

You’re ready to march right up to Ben and finally tell him that you’re ready to make things official, that you haven’t been able to get him out of your head since your first date and that you’re totally, completely falling for him.

As you descend the staircase, your eyes scan the room for Ben until you spot him - talking to an insanely beautiful girl in the corner of the room.

Your heart drops to your stomach as you see how he’s smiling at her while she squeezes his arm and says something that makes him laugh.

You feel like a complete idiot.

You shouldn’t have come here tonight expecting him to be waiting around, hoping for you to turn up. You haven’t had any conversations about being exclusive, and he’s a bloody gorgeous footballer who could get any girl at this party. He could’ve invited this girl himself for all you know.

You just got caught up in the excitement of seeing him and all the feelings that have been swirling around in your chest since you met him, not thinking about the reality of the situation. It’s been a month - an absolutely wonderful, magical month, yes, but only one month. You were a fool for getting so ahead of yourself when, truthfully, you don’t know if Ben even wants a serious relationship. You were under the impression that’s where this was going, but he never explicitly said anything.

With your eyes stinging with tears and a sudden urge to be anywhere but here, you decide to slip out the back door to the small garden behind the house. You know you could just go home, but it’s nearly midnight and you don’t want Mia to see you leaving and spoil her New Year’s too.

You’ll just have to stand out here, shivering in nothing but your dress, until the clock strikes twelve and you can slip out without raising too much suspicion. Maybe you can get Mia to tell Ben you have food poisoning, or something - it’s less embarrassing than the truth.

Your mind is racing with thoughts of all the moments you and Ben have shared over the past weeks, all the times you felt in your bones that this was going to be something real.

As the clock on your phone reminds you it’s creeping closer to midnight, you hear the sound of the back door opening and closing. Assuming it’s someone coming out to smoke, you quickly wipe the tears from your cheeks and plaster on a smile as you try to think of a reason you’re standing out here alone.

Instead, you’re met with the familiar pair of blue eyes that make your heart stop beating for a moment.

Ben.

“Y/N, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” he says with a small sigh of relief. “What are you doing out here? It’s almost midnight!”

“Just needed a bit of air,” you respond, trying to keep your voice from trembling.

“Are you alright?” he asks as he approaches you, his eyes filled with concern. “You must be freezing, love, here-“

Before you can respond, he’s already shrugging off his jacket and draping it over your bare shoulders, just like he did on your first date. This time, he lingers afterward and gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. The sweet gesture, combined with the way he’s looking at you with such tenderness and admiration, makes tears begin to build in your eyes once more.

You never should’ve let yourself believe that he would want to be with someone like you. If you weren’t good enough for your shitty ex, how could you ever be enough for someone as wonderful as Ben?

“Love, you’re worrying me, did something happen?” Ben asks, his use of the term of endearment only making things worse.

You take a step back from him, shaking your head.

“I shouldn’t have come tonight,” you murmur. “I mean, I shouldn’t have assumed that you would want me to come. I think I just misread things between us and I’m really sorry that I-“

“Y/N, what are you talking about?” Ben interjects, his face full of confusion. “Of course I wanted you to come. I was so happy when you showed up, where is this coming from?”

“I saw you talking to that girl inside and it seemed like there was something going on, which is totally fine, I know we aren’t exclusive or anything-“

“Shit, Y/N, that was just my friend Hannah,” Ben says quickly. “She’s actually the girlfriend of one of my best mates, you remember Anish?”

Slowly processing his words, you recall briefly meeting Anish when he popped by Ben’s once while you were over. You also remember him mentioning his girlfriend.

“I’m so sorry you thought something was happening there, I wouldn’t do that,” he says sincerely. “And not just because you came tonight, for the record. I don’t think I’ve actually even properly looked at another girl since I met you.”

Your cheeks flush red, both at his words and the embarrassment you’re feeling for overreacting to the situation. You stare down at your shoes, unable to meet his gaze, until he steps closer to you and gently cups your face, forcing you to look at him.

“Y/N, I like you so much. You’re the only girl I want to ring in the New Year with, the only girl I want to be with period,” Ben says, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear earlier, I just thought after everything that happened with your ex you might not want to rush into something serious.”

Your heart swells with affection and you reach up to hold his forearm, both for stability since your knees have gone weak and because you need to touch him.

“I only want to be with you, too,” you whisper, afraid your voice will falter if you speak too loudly. “And I’m sorry I made assumptions. I guess my ex did mess with my head a little bit.”

“Well, he’s a dickhead who didn’t deserve you,” Ben says, making you laugh softly. “But don’t apologize to me. We’ll just be more honest with each other from now on, yeah?”

You nod and smile at him until you’re interrupted by a flurry of activity from inside the house. Through the window, you can see people beginning to crowd together in the living room to count down to midnight. Glancing at Ben’s watch, you can see there’s only a minute left.

“Do you want to go inside with everyone else?” you ask him.

Ben just smiles and shakes his head. “I’d rather stay out here and celebrate with my girlfriend, if that’s okay with you?”

Your heart races and your breath catches in your throat at his casual statement, the word replaying in your mind from the moment it leaves his lips.

He looks at you a bit nervously, perhaps concerned that you’ll be overwhelmed by this new title, but your lips spread into a grin.

“That sounds perfect.”

Before Ben can respond, the people inside begin to count down from ten. He pulls you closer by the waist, thumbs rubbing circles on your hips, and you place a hand on his stubbly cheek.

As the countdown draws closer to the end, you marvel at how safe and content you feel right now in Ben’s arms. You think about how this year was one of the hardest of your life, and how you never could’ve predicted that it would end with you being this happy, with the most wonderful man who taught you how to trust again. Who taught you how to fall in love again, even if it’s a bit too soon to say those words to him.

“Three…two…one…”

The chorus of people shouting “happy new year!” is muffled as Ben presses his lips to yours, making you melt into him. You wrap your arms around his neck, and he sighs into the kiss when you sink your fingers into his hair.

When his tongue slides into your mouth, you respond with equal passion, kissing him with everything you have until you’re both left breathless.

When you break apart, Ben rests his forehead against yours. Your eyes flutter open slowly and you’re met with the most amazing sight you’ve ever seen in your life.

There are fireworks above you in every direction, a spectacle of light and colour, but you’re completely enraptured by the blue eyes and gorgeous smile in front of you.

“Happy New Year, love,” Ben whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

It’s going to be a very Happy New Year indeed - maybe the happiest you’ve ever had. And as you lean in to kiss your new boyfriend again and again, you think about how despite all the pain you went through, you wouldn’t have changed a thing about the last one either. After all, it led you to this moment - it led you to Ben.

“Happy New Year, Ben.”

i really hope you liked this part 2! 💙🎆 please feel free to send me an ask or leave a comment if you enjoyed, i really appreciate them!

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell imagine #ben chilwell x y/n #chelsea fc imagine

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