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helloalycia · 3 years

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my patient’s neighbour [three] // wanda maximoff

summary: your relationship with Wanda gets a little bumpy when her work life crosses over with your personal life.

warning/s: implied kidnapping, mentions of anxiety

author's note: so the ‘i love you’ confession was actually inspired by an incorrect quote on @aquamarinescarlet’s page! i thought it would be cute aha

It was two months into our relationship when I knew I'd fallen in love with Wanda. I can't remember the exact moment when it hit me – I guess it had happened gradually over time – but I remember the embarrassing moment when I told her.

She'd brought me as her date to an Avengers party thrown by Tony Stark. I'd been to one of them before, about a month into dating her, as she'd wanted me to meet her friends from work AKA the freakin' Avengers. They were actually really great and (somewhat) humble people. I didn't expect to become 'friends' with any of them, more just be friendly whenever I saw them through Wanda. To my surprise, I became quite good friends with Natasha Romanoff.

We had the same dark sense of humour, both had an unexplainable obsession with horror films and she was genuinely just really easy to talk to. I wasn't expecting it, but it was nice to gain a new friend in addition to a new girlfriend.

So, I was at my second Avengers party with Wanda by my side, but the party had ended about half an hour ago and I may or may not have been drunk.

We were sat on the couch, conversing with the other Avengers, and I was sat between Wanda and Natasha. The others were involved in their own conversations and I was too dazed to realise what I was doing until it happened.

"Wanda has no idea I'm in love with her," I said (not-so) quietly, leaning over to my left, into Wanda's ear unknowingly.

Wanda, who was playing with my fingers in her hand, paused and glanced to me with bright eyes, a surprised expression on her face.

"You're in love with me?" she asked, lips twitching into a smile.

I blinked, her words settling in, before I licked my lips. "Oh, sorry." Turning to my right, I moved to Natasha's ear, whispering loudly, "Wanda has no idea I'm in love with her."

Natasha glanced to me with a quirked brow, amused smile on her lips. "She doesn't? You sure about that?"

"You're in love with me?" Wanda repeated, sitting forward and earning my attention.

I gasped, wondering how she knew, before slapping Natasha's arm and looking to her with a frown. "You told her?! I trusted you!"

Natasha ignored me, instead looking to Wanda with an encouraging look. "I'll leave this one to you. Good luck."

She stood up, heading over to Thor and Bruce Banner on the other couch, and I booed her as she left.

"Yeah, run away, you secret-give-away'er!" I called after her with a pout, before crossing my arms.

"I think it's time I take you home," Wanda said decidedly, trying not to laugh as she pulled me up off the couch.

"I don't like Natasha anymore," I mumbled, allowing Wanda to take me away.

She bid her goodbyes to her teammates before leading me to the lift. I don't really remember what else happened until we were suddenly at my house – well, my parents house, but they had given it to me as they travelled the world with their retirement money. She was leading me inside and to my bedroom, getting me dressed like the sweet girlfriend she was, before tucking me into bed.

Of course, being the clingy drunk I was, I pulled her on top of me and didn't let go as I wrapped my arms around her.

"Stay," I mumbled into her shoulder, closing my eyes.

She chuckled, trying to pull away. "Y/N, you need to sleep, c'mon."

"I will," I whined, not letting her leave. "If you stay with me."

She paused, before giving in with a sigh. "Fine."

Tiredly, I smiled. "Yesssss." I patted the spot next to me. "Right here, please."

In the light of my bedside lamp, I saw her roll her eyes playfully, before turning off the lamp and jumping under the covers with me. I sighed with relief, cuddling into her side without hesitating.

"I love you," I mumbled, barely thinking about it.

She tightened her embrace and I felt her kiss the top of my head. "You're probably gonna forget you said that in the morning. But I'll remind you. And if you still think it, then I'll reply."

Her words went into one ear and out the other. I hummed in response, not knowing what I was answering to, and let myself get lost in her scent as I drifted into a peaceful slumber.

When I woke up the next morning, I quite liked the idea of sharing bed with Wanda and waking up to her dishevelled hair and our intertwined legs, even though I didn't remember inviting her to stay. Of course, I also had a banging headache and felt like someone had hit me with a train, so I didn't get chance to appreciate it much.

"Fuck," I mumbled, pulling the duvet over my head to block out the sun streaming through the slit in my curtain.

Wanda, who was shuffling beside me, yawned and stretched her arms. Suddenly, I heard quiet laughter, before she spooned me, wrapping her arms around my stomach and pulling me closer. Her leg raised and clung to my waist, and as much as I appreciated the way she fit perfectly against me, I was still in pain.

"Why did you let me drink that much?" I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut.

"I believe that was your own conscience decision, dorogoy (darling)," she said in that know-it-all voice of hers, and it was hard for me to be annoyed at her because she had a raspy, morning voice and her accent was especially thick with fatigue and damn, Wanda Maximoff was pretty sexy in the morning.

"Whatever," was all I said, but I placed my hand on hers and joint our fingers together.

"You know," she started, tucking her head comfortably into my neck, "I quite like waking up to you like this. You're very cute, even if you're cranky."

Despite aforementioned crankiness, I cracked a smile. "I like this, too."

It was very domestic, something I didn't get the privilege of experiencing with Wanda because she worked a lot, and it felt good.

After hanging around in bed for a little while longer, I got up and showered whilst Wanda offered to make me some breakfast – "Pancakes are a hangover's cure! Or at least according to Tony". After getting ready, I came downstairs to find a stack of pancakes and maple syrup waiting for me.

"You are a Godsend," I told her, pressing a haste kiss to her lips before sitting at the table with the pancakes. "Thank you."

She chuckled, grabbing her own pancakes and sitting opposite me. "Anything for you."

After I dug in, complimenting her on how delicious they tasted, a comfortable silence fell between us. Well, until Wanda spoke up cautiously.

"So, does anything from last night ring a bell?" she asked, making me look up to see her staring eagerly.

My content expression fell. "Shoot, did I do something embarrassing?" I facepalmed. "God, what was it? Did I fall asleep on somebody?"

She smiled with adoration, eyes twinkling in the morning sun. "No, nothing like that."

I could tell there was something though, judging from her hesitant expression. I scrunched my face with regret.

"What did I do?" I asked, unprepared to hear it. "Did I say something to you?"

She played with her fork, twisting it around in her plate nervously, which was very unlike her. "Yeah, actually, you did."

I waited, feeling like the silence was deafening the longer she stayed quiet.

"You said you were in love with me," she said, voice so soft and quiet that I barely heard it.

I felt my heart drop to my stomach. "I what?"

"I mean, technically you said I had no idea you were in love with me, but I think you were supposed to tell Nat that," she continued, eyes avoiding mine. "Then you told Nat and you got mad at her because you thought she told me."

I facepalmed for the second time that morning. "Oh, God..."

"Then you invited me to stay the night and told me you loved me before you fell asleep," she finished rambling. "I just, er, wanted to check if you meant that..."

I raised my eyebrows with disbelief. "Are you kidding?" I reached over the table to grab her hand. "Wanda, of course I meant that! But I hoped to tell you at a better time than by accident whilst I was drunk."

Blue eyes flickered to mine, excitement creeping onto her face. "You meant it."

I breathed out, realising what exactly I'd just said. "I– yeah. I meant it. I'm in love with you, Wanda."

Her smile widened. "I'm in love with you, too."

My heart fluttered in my chest as I relaxed my shoulders. "You love me."

She giggled, squeezing my hand. "We just did this."

"Right! We did," I said, shaking my head, grin forming on my lips. "Sorry. I'm just so happy right now."

"Me, too," she said in agreement, thumb stroking the top of my hand.

I didn't think things could go wrong from here. I was on top of the world! But of course, the world had a funny way of ruining things.

—

Dating a superhero had its pros and cons, I suppose, but neither really showed themselves to me often as it was as if Wanda's superhero life was separate to the one we shared. When she and I were together, it was just us. And she would leave for work and I wouldn't think about it. Then she would return and it would be us again.

If I took a moment out of my day to stop and really think about where she was, what she could be doing, the danger she could be in... I just couldn't do it. Even when she would show up to our next date with a fresh bruise from training, or a broken bone from a mission gone too far, I'd worry about it for the time being then try to let it go. Those weren't superhero perks, those were reasons to be concerned. And I couldn't handle imagining the time when she'd come back to me in a worse state, or to not even come back at all.

So, her superhero life rarely overlapped with our shared one. And I was happier that way. Until it did.

I was running errands one day, little things that required me to run around the city – dry cleaning, grocery shopping, picking up some DIY stuff for my house. It was a pretty relaxing, fun day. I'd treated myself to lunch, was soaking in the sunshine and planning to unwind with some Netflix on the couch.

"Hold on, I need to unlock the front door," I mumbled into the phone. I was talking to Wanda, catching her up with my day as I returned home.

"Try not to drop your phone this time," she teased from the other end, and I could just imagine the smirk on her face.

"So funny," I said with an eye roll. "Real comedian."

She laughed as I placed my phone in my pocket, not quite hanging up. Pulling my keys from my shopping bag, I fiddled with them, attempting to find the key for my front door.

Suddenly, something metal and cold pressed to my back and I jumped, dropping my keys with surprise.

"Don't draw attention," the person said, and I went rigid, looking up to see a reflection of someone unrecognisable in the glass of my front door. "You're going to leave your things here and come with me."

"Who are you?" I asked, trying to turn around, but the object pressed harder into my back, making me wince.

"Leave your fucking things here and give me your hand," the man ordered, ignoring my question. "Phone included. And don't even think about making a call."

I swallowed hard, panic settling in as I listened to the threatening stranger. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I realised that the stranger had no idea I was already on a call. With an Avenger nonetheless.

"I'll put it down," I narrated my actions, soon coming to realise that the object behind my back was in fact the barrel of a gun.

Hoping Wanda was still listening in and could hear the exchange, I put my phone on the ground and placed my shaking hand in the man's outstretched one. He tucked his gun back into the waistband of his jeans before tugging me down the steps and to a black van parked opposite my house.

Too paralysed with fear at the sight of two more strange men getting out the van, I felt my throat go dry and words get stuck at the bottom. Looking around, I hoped to find a neighbour's eyes or dog-walker's lost gaze, but nobody was here. Whoever these men were had timed their entrance perfectly.

When we reached the van, the back doors were opened and the man spun me around roughly before placing a bag on my head and shoving me inside. Hot tears ran down my face as I squeezed my eyes shut, wondering what the hell was happening and who these people were. But mostly, I hoped Wanda was already on her way.

—

The whole incident was over soon. That's what we were calling it now. The 'incident'. Of course, it could have been called other things... the kidnapping, the abduction, the capture. But we settled with the 'incident'. It was less explicit, as if minimising how utterly terrifying the whole experience was.

I never did find out who those men were. Wanda offered to tell me, feeling a need to explain herself and blame herself and drag herself down in the dirt to make me feel better, to bring me out of my silence and give me something to feel good about. I recalled her mentioning they were after her, getting to her through me – her girlfriend.

She rescued me quite quickly. Being tied up and locked away and left to cry like a child, wondering if I was going to die any minute at the hands of captors whom I had never met nor done anything to in my life, wasn't fun. People always wonder what they would do in those situations; maybe they would square up and put up a fight; maybe they would scream and shout and get everyone's attention; maybe they'd even retort with sarky remarks and go out with a blaze of glory.

I never imagined what that would be like, but I discovered I could do neither of those things. I just let them take me, let them threaten me and point their guns at me and tie me up and lock me away and–

I let myself cry and feel terrified and shake and lose my words and imagine the worst. Some would call that giving in, but this wasn't something you could prepare for. Surely my response was justified? I wasn't sure. I just knew that when Wanda burst onto the scene, taking out the men with ease and taking me out of there, taking me home, I was momentarily safe.

But then as she began to ramble off her explanations and apologies and regrets, I found myself turning in on myself, unable to hear her out. I didn't blame her one bit, but I also couldn't listen to one more second. So, I tuned her out.

I sat on the couch, staring at the way the thread was coming loose on one of my cushions. I thought about how quickly the whole 'incident' had happened. How one minute I was sat in a cell and now I was sat on my couch. How I was then shaking with fear and now I felt nothing.

"...you listening? Hey, are you okay?"

I only tuned back in when she sat on the cushion I was looking at. Her fingers rested on my cheek, guiding my head upwards so I was looking her in the eyes, glassy and red and swollen from crying. I probably looked the same, though I was all out of tears.

"I promise you nobody will be back here," she said with certainty, thumb stroking my cheek. "There's S.H.I.E.L.D. agents posted all along the street. And I'm happy to stay here if you need me to. You're safe now."

I knew I was. And despite my calm exterior, my heart was still racing in my chest, adrenaline still pumping through my body as if expecting to make a sudden break for it.

"What are you thinking?" she muttered, eyes flicking between mine curiously. "Talk to me. Please."

I shook my head, looking away. "I'm okay."

"It's okay not to be," she said quietly, squeezing my hand.

"I know."

So, we kept that bit up for a few more days, maybe a week. Me pretending I was okay, though still distant from Wanda as if she'd caught the plague, and her pretending she knew I was telling the truth.

But I knew she sensed the nightmares I had, waking me up in cold sweats. I knew she saw the way I tensed when a shadow cast along the wall from a moving object. Or the way I never faced the front door when unlocking it to get inside.

I guess she couldn't take it anymore at some point, possibly a week or two later, as when I was mixing my soup in a bowl after heating it up in the microwave, she sighed loudly.

"You okay?" I asked, glancing up at her. She was stood by the counter, seeming tired.

She'd been staying with me since the incident happened, obviously, and it was nice having her around so much, despite the circumstances. But I knew she was worried and had been keeping it in. I just didn't have the energy to acknowledge it.

"I'm fine," she said quickly, though her fingers still drummed on the countertop.

I let it go, shrugging, before paying attention to my soup. Her impatience was obnoxiously loud, filling the house with a discomfort she was dying to express. Eventually, she did.

"I'm not fine," she decided, and I stopped stirring my soup as I looked to her tugging on her sleeves distractedly. "I'm not fine because you're not fine."

"I've told you I am," I said monotonously, eyes boring into hers.

"I know you're not," she said, crossing her arms and hugging herself. "I've noticed you and..."

I quirked a brow. "And?"

She frowned, eyes softening with empathy. "Don't make me say it, Y/N."

I pressed my tongue to the back of my teeth as I looked down to my steaming soup.

"Talk to me," she pleaded, rounding the counter and leaning beside me, searching for my eyes. "I just want to help."

I swallowed hard. "I have nothing to say, Wanda."

"A really scary thing happened," she began hesitantly. "The fact that you don't have anything to say– that you've not said anything, isn't right."

"Well, I guess there's something wrong with me," I said dismissively, before grabbing the pepper grinder before me and using it.

"No, there's not," she reassured, not giving up. "You just need to talk.”

I set the grinder down, turning to face her abruptly. She straightened up with surprise, taking a small step back.

"What do you want me to say?" I asked, voice calm but full of unintentional malice. "Huh? What do you want me to tell you? That I'm terrified somebody is watching my house, waiting for a quiet moment to break in? That I have to follow you into every room you go in because I don't want to be left alone? That I can't fucking sleep because I'm scared that when I close my eyes, I'll be locked in a nightmare I can't escape? Is that what you want me to tell you? Does that make you feel better, Wanda? Because it doesn't make me feel any better. It just reminds me how fucking terrified I am."

I pocketed my shaking hands, blinked away the tears that threatened to fall, swallowed down the lump rising in my throat. She watched me, unsure what to say at first and I didn't blame her. It was an outburst waiting to happen.

"I'm–"

"Don't say you're sorry," I snapped, before flinching at my tone. "I know you're sorry. And I don't blame you for what happened. I just– I don't know what to do anymore."

Her eyes were studying me like green lasers burning holes into my skin and I hated that I couldn't meet them. I hated even more that I couldn't leave the kitchen out of anger or frustration because I was too scared to be left alone without her by my side.

So, I leaned against the counter, turning away from her, and let out a shaky breath, eyes burning and heart thumping in my ears. Her arms suddenly wrapped around me without question, and I let her take me into her chest, squeezing me so tight so I knew she was there.

Closing my eyes, I felt tears rolling down my cheeks, but no sound came out. I struggled to breathe, unable to take in air through my nose as I stuffed my head so hard into her shirt that I couldn't see a thing except darkness. I knew I'd eventually be okay, that I'd eventually get back to some sense of normalcy. But for now, having her here with me was okay. And I found it much better to just be with her then have to go over and talk it out.

She was warm and strong and smelt like home and God, I loved her. I was lucky to have her.

—

It took about a month and a half to get over the incident. And after that, we never brought it up again. It was just easier that way. We continued on like usual, falling back into our old routine of having a separate us and her separate superhero life.

At some point, I thought it would be nice for her to meet my parents. They were back in town for the week, wanting to check in and see how I was. It was nice having them around and I was excited for them to meet Wanda, who I'd mentioned in some of our Skype calls.

"We don't have to make it a thing," I said as I proposed the idea. We were cleaning around Anna's apartment as she napped in her bedroom. "It's not like an 'oh, meet the parents' thing. They just happen to be in town and we're having a dinner, so I thought you might want to come. If you don't, it's not a big deal. I haven't told them to expect you. Not unless you say yes. Which you don't have to."

She chuckled, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Dorogoy (darling), calm down. Breathe."

I neatened the cushions on the couch with a bit too much force. "Am I not breathing? I'm pretty sure I'm breathing."

Her hands slipped into mine as she spun me around to face her. An amused smile on her lips, she said, "You need to relax. If you're like this now, then who knows what you'll be like on the night of the dinner?"

It took me a second to realise what she'd said and when I did, my eyes widened. "Wait, the night of the– does that mean you're going?"

She laughed, tugging me closer to her. "Yes, I'm going. I'd love to meet your parents!"

My shoulders relaxed as her fingers played with mine mindlessly. A smile appeared on my lips as I said, "Thank you. I– it'll be fun. No pressure. Just a dinner."

"Just a dinner," she confirmed, before kissing my forehead gently. "Can't wait."

And so on the day before my parents left for Scotland, yet another trip on their never ending retirement travels, I waited for Wanda to pick me up so we could go to a restaurant to meet my parents, who were already there after spending the day shopping in town.

She arrived at the door with a beautiful smile and bright eyes, looking me up and down.

"Just on time," I teased, tilting my head to the side, before being serious. "You look amazing tonight, Wanda."

"As do you, moya lyubov' (my love)," she said sweetly, leaning forward to kiss my cheek, before stepping inside. "Also, these are for you."

She removed her hand from behind her back as I closed the door, revealing a gorgeous, colourful bouquet of flowers.

"I saw them and thought of you," she began to explain without even realising how cute she was; a smile crept on my lips as she continued, "but then I realised I've never gotten you flowers before which is very dumb of me because a pretty girl deserves pretty flowers, right?"

There was no doubt that my face was heating up from the attention, flustered yet honoured at her words.

"Wanda, I love them," I said, accepting the flowers and meeting her gaze. "And to be fair, nobody has ever gotten me flowers before."

"You're kidding," she said with disbelief, stepping forward and wrapping her arms loosely around my waist. Reading my serious expression, she added, "Not even for your birthday? Or a celebration?"

I shook my head. "Nope."

She gave me a knowing look. "Well, that's very unfortunate. But I'm glad I could be the first."

I held her gaze, amusement dancing in her smile. Mirroring her expression, I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her nose, making her scrunch it up delightfully.

"Me, too," I said, and I meant it.

"Come on, we should get going," she said, squeezing my waist before letting go. "Don't want to be late, do we?"

"We do not," I agreed, before putting the flowers in a vase of water and leaving them by the door.

"You ready?" she asked, holding open the front door.

I intertwined our hands and met her smile with my own. "I'm ready."

Taking the girlfriend to meet the parents. What could go wrong?

#wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #marvel #mcu

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hhjs · 3 years

Text

love or lack thereof.

pairing — felix x reader

genre / trope — angst, fluff / exes with benefits.

word count — 7.7k

warnings — suggestive, heavy implications, swearing, some making out but no actual r rated stuff but i will say this is suitable for 18 and up audiences.

note — this is unedited, subject to change. spare me lol

There are two sides to every person. The side that you want people to see and the side that you keep to yourself.

You think you've come to discover all those aspects of Lee Felix. Given that he's sweet, unassuming and inexplicably kind to the naked eye but you know, the rising anger in you knows he's only ever been cruel to you.

"Move," you seethe, he moves to let you in but you unintentionally knock your shoulder against his. There's people on the subway, and you hate the way Felix's innocent gaze finds yours for a second and it makes you look like the bad guy.

You feel the disapproving glare of a grandma who has a crumpled catalogue about seasonal pie recipes on her lap, as if she can't believe how much of a cunt you were being to an absolute stranger.

A roll of eyes follows, fishing for your ear phones, if only they knew.

Seeing your ex boyfriend outside of your casual deal hits you with the force of a punch to the gut. But you hid it exceptionally well. Arrogantly jutting your chin upwards. Whilst he cowers beside you, having supposedly caught your sour mood.

To think you had spent an hour with him in a bedroom just formerly...is rather strange. You've been sleeping with him for the past few months now and where it had begun is slightly mysterious to you — was it Chan's birthday party or a clubbing gone wrong one night stand just after Felix had come back to town....? You aren't entirely sure.

Albeit the arrangement is ingrained in your head — what you have with him is a secret strictly kept from your friends who otherwise if even caught air of a mere conversation between you two would invite an influx of queries. This is simple, physical, you don't have time for a relationship, let alone one with him and to mend how utterly lonely you are with someone who hasn't already seen you naked, someone who you couldn't blindly trust, is too much work.

Even though Felix is indubitably affected by your unwavering indifference, something he wasn't used to when you were together because of how giving you were to sate his utterly needy tendencies. Now he feels himself clawing at your hardened exterior in search of just those affections to no actual avail —hurt crossing his eyes when you sneak out of bed without saying goodbye, when days pass and you don't call or text and most importantly, when you're in public and you can't be bothered to spare him as much as a glance. To you, it's nothing more and nothing less. You make it a necessity to keep reminding him.

See you liked to pretend you're a resilient person. That in your heart you really do forgive people and move on.

But he is an exception.

"Did you eat?" He perks up, his voice is small. Careful.

You keep your stoic expression, looking ahead. "No."

Then he blinks, like he usually does when he doesn't understand why you act the way you do. Impolite, communicating only in monosyllables.

Do you really hate him that much?

There's a hoodie pulled over his black hair, longer along the neck,headphones dangling from his neck and his backpack in his hand, he hopes when he holds onto the same railing as you are, that your fingers should brush just a little.

Despite the way you adamantly ignore him, Felix opens his mouth to utter a passing inquiry. Your jaw clenches. And you desperately begin to scan the city map plastered inside to navigate passengers to their destinations.

"Can we...do you want to get something to eat..." He swallows, "together?"

As if he's crazy for even making such a proposition, you look at him once but from the corner of your eye and he thinks that's a lot considering how often you look past him, through him, never at him. You shake your head, giving him a warning stare.

Across from you, his reflection is frowning at your negative response. Still staring at you with a marveling gleam in his eyes, how much you've changed over the past two years just as he has....still takes him by surprise. Suddenly and unexpectedly, his eyes flicker to yours and he finds you staring at his image against the glassed doors. And like a deer caught in headlights, your heart drops to the depths of your stomach.

The announcement above falls deaf to your ears as you exit in a blind rush of sheer panic. Ignoring the biting cold and unfamiliar station. Your stop is still quite far. Maybe you'd have to take the taxi... or walk.

But in the face of all those hassles you sense yourself feeling incredibly relieved...because frankly, you think, you could go to hell and back if gets you away from him.

—

"So you came to tell me you're just gonna give up? Is that it?"

Felix carefully glances at you through his lashes, silently pursing his lips as to convey the answer.

You stare at the speckles of light kissing up his freckled cheeks, his big beaming eyes, a slightly low bridge but rounded tip of his nose paired with a small upturned mouth.

You can't believe you won't see him again.

Whenever he'd catch a break, he'd take the 2 hour bus to town and come see you, meet you and those once in six months meetings alone, to you, compensated for his lengthy absence.

So it couldn't be the distance, you thought, if that were the case he'd have dumped you when he moved to the capital for university.

Felix just doesn't want to be with you anymore.

"You don't get it...." He closes his eyes, as if he doesn't want to see himself saying what he is about to say, you almost don't get the resistance in his tone. The subtle drop of his Adam's apple. "I don't want to hurt you." He starts, "Just think about this rationally... we're so young, what if I find someone else there?"

Someone...else?

Is it that easy to dispose of you? Aren't you enough?

How foolish of you to only ever think of him.

It felt like Felix was kicking you where knew would hurt the most.

Your sardonic laugh is cracked, garbled and it's so fucking embarrassing that you're crying in the middle of a fast food joint, your fries have gone cold. Had you known seeing him this time would be vastly different from usual, you wouldn't have ordered at all. Why didn't he tell you before? Why had he insisted on catching you unawares?

But then again...this isn't about you at all. This is about Lee Felix. This is about him reducing your worth to make room for himself.

Ultimately, you understand, what is worse than not being loved back is being loved by someone who doesn't love you as much as you do them.

"Well I won't stand in your way then,"

You clear your throat,

"Fuck..." you rub your temple, the sadist in you coughing up hysterical laughs. The ache inside your heart at this point has turned into physical pain, cracks fissuring out against its surface and gnawing at the flesh like its being torn apart at the seams.

You should've seen this coming.

Everyone told you and told you you could only drag on an opposites attract sort of relationship for so long before you start to realise how incompatible you are.

Felix has the audacity to reach over and place his fingertips on your knuckles,his eyes are sad, overflowing with pity. It makes you feel small, the way he looks at you, small, sad and abandoned.

What tips you over the edge, however, is how calm he seems, as if he had been precisely planning to dump you for days and months and years while you continue to make a fool out of yourself never have forseen his decision.

There are tears running down your cheeks, abusing your vision with a vicious sting. You bring your sleeve to collect the needless moisture in a sudden rise of temper that is oh so typical of you.

You snatch your hand away from his touch.

"Don't touch me." You say, the simple comment transfers pain to Felix's eyes, mouth parting in silent words. You want to scream at him, you want to shake him by the collar and tell say something, just say anything at all and I will forgive you. Goddamnit.

In a perfect world, you think, a world where things happened exactly the way they should, you wouldn't have said, instead,

"And don't you fucking dare come back here...ever again."

And...in that very perfect world, he would've listened.

—

Felix thinks he could, dare he say, love everything about you. Even though you most certainly deserve someone who hasn't hurt you the way he has.

Now it's funny actually, how the tables have turned...back then, he wasn't sure about you and now you aren't about him.

Felix doesn't really blame you though...because he knows he asked for it.

Your presence in his life has somehow become an absolute necessity to say the least. And ironically enough, while he had so confidently pushed you to let go of him, he realises he had been holding onto you all along.

Now what was he saying...again?

Right. Felix loves everything about you.

But what he loves most...is the way your hand instinctively finds his heart when you're kissing. It's just a simple movement of your fingers splaying against his chest, the warmth of them seeping through the fabric of his shirt. He doesn't even know why it means so much to him.

His hand drops from your ass to the back of your thighs to situate you closer to his chest. He moans into the kiss when your teeth comes to scrape against his bottom lip, your ministrations are typically rough and speedy but he is seemingly far too absorbed by the exhilarating feeling coursing throughout his entire form — it's not just blatant lust, he knows, but a much deeper understanding that he is inexplicably gladdened by the fact that he's touching you and you're touching him.

A shaky breath leaves Felix's parted lips as he cranes his neck to allow your lingering kisses to shift along his angular jaw.

Then without quite meaning to, his vision focuses on the table clock that reads it's well past midnight...you had run late tonight for reasons you neglected to disclose. Now that he really focuses, a strong musky fragrance akin to unfamiliar men's cologne wafts up his nostrils.

It couldn't be....

As Felix's suspicions run deeper, he restlessly begins to search up every aspect of his surroundings as best as he can in the limited provision of light. There is a large coat discarded on his bed, one he hasn't seen you wear before...then again it might not be yours at all...

You notice how he's stopped responding to you, so you pause, leaning back, still on his lap. "Is something the matter?"

Felix swallows, blinking up innocently at you. This deal is simple, isn't it? He knew what he was getting into the first time you got together and the second and the third and so on, so why had the possibility of you getting involved with someone else even bother him then?

Both of you knew why.

And what's worse is that Felix is sensitive by nature, never truly succeeding to hide his emotions, especially intense ones when faced with them. So he is hyper aware of the fact that what he is feeling in the moment is not jealousy, it's neither anger nor resentment but a deep seated insecurity that he will lose you.

Again.

"Were you...with someone?"

As expected, your hands resign from cupping his face, you avoid looking at him.

"What?"

Felix clears his throat, his accent thicker, voice heavy from disuse. He thinks about something being with you in the same way only he has...and it causes a dull ache inside his chest.

He rests his head back against the sofa and shrugs lazily. As if to prove a point, as if to say did he touch you here? his fingers ride up your t shirt, gently cupping your ribs, he tries not to look too satisfied when you quiver under the touch.

Still you lift yourself up and the sudden lack of contact almost makes him whine.

You stand before him. A hand at your hip.

"Why are you acting like this?" You say and he notes you sound more... curious than annoyed. Though what frustrates him is that you hadn't answered his question. "I thought I made myself clear...there are rules we agreed upon."

Oh he knows — no staying over, no personal questions, no jealousy.

Felix purses his lips. The downside of your forwardness, the same utterly admirable trait he finds really fucking hot, the one that conditions you to tell Minho off when he hogs all of Felix's brownies though the latter himself is too much of a pushover to say anything, the same one which had in times of recurring doubtfulness assured him of your strong feelings towards him, is that you say whatever comes to mind without sparing anyone's feelings.

"I'm just asking, [........]," he lies, trying to control the pain from projecting itself onto his voice. It hurts to see the way you jump to defend yourself around him, as though you're scared he'll hurt you again. The lack of faith you have him, after all this time, causes him hurt. "Why are you getting so upset...."

Felix is gentle. Communicating his feelings through his actions rather than words, cooly, slowly. And you are the exact opposite — there is an immediacy in your conveyance, a roughness. You mean what you say and you say what you mean so you think everyone does too. Which is why, he concludes, his present actions are insufficient to remove the seeds of resentment he'd left in the wake of his bitter utterances when you broke up.

But Felix was only 18 then, a kid completely unaware of his overwhelming need to have you in his life....what matters is, he's trying...he really is, to recover from his mistakes......shouldn't that least matter?

Thinking the slight inhibition in his tone is just a figment of your imagination and that he is simply and indifferently inquiring you, you feel a wave of embarrassment wash over you. Then you drop down on the bed, feeling for his remote.

You sniff through your nose and against your better judgement say, "I went out with an acquaintance,"

On weekends Chan usually wasn't home, you could come over. This is the routine, it has been for some time now...so, you've come to know Felix's room more intimately than your own, the walls are a deep blue, like the kind of blue out of a Holly Warburton painting. There's an old Coldplay poster on the back of his door and X-Men action figures from eons ago lined on the edges of his bookshelf.

You know where everything goes when though it's dark. But that doesn't mean anything.

It shouldn't.

"A acquaintance who gave you their coat midwinter...you must be close,"

You ignore his pointed comment, he ignores the way your eyes light up when you talk about this acquaintance.

"He's nice." You say, "He walked me to the station and everything."

A happy hum comes in response.

Because when was the last time you talked to him as freely as you are?

Felix plops down on his stomach beside you, elevating his form on his elbows. His fingers come to brush loose strands out of your eyes. Your gaze meets his for the second time that week. Slower. As if you hadn't minded looking him this time. He feels his heart being tugged at all possible angles.

Then, because he can't stop himself — he leans down and kisses you, tentative and indolent, like he has all the time in the world, like all he wants to do is kiss. Don't get him wrong...you've done downright unspeakable things with him, to him...but nothing mediates his adoration for you without the employment of speech like these little chaste...purposeless movements. His fingers coming to splay against your neck, thumbing along your throat when you gulp, the tip of your nose brushing against his cheekbone, eyes fluttering shut. They're...they're intimate. Utterly special. He knows you feel it too, from the way you look slightly surprised, searching his face, eyes skimming up any fragment of emotion conveyed in his features. But you don't encourage it, slowly shifting to turn your back as you lay quietly against his chest.

"Let me stay here tonight," you say, "I'm tired."

"Okay,"

Felix thinks you've broken not one, but two rules now. He hadn't expected you to answer. He hadn't expected you to get into bed with no intention of departing either.

Though he doesn't hold it against you, this is what he wants, for you to open up to him again...after all. These changes can't be bad changes, even if they are little, it's still progress...right?

—

You wet your fingers, dipping the moistened muscle against the clay mold. All around you is not as eerily quite as it is in your apartment, footsteps thrumming against hardwood floor, kiddish humming from the kitchen, the smell of sugar in the air, you've never worked outside of your home station and well...in class. You thought of yourself as a self sufficient individualist, you liked to believe that you didn't enjoy other people's company like you did your own, with the exception of your roommate. But that's only since you aren't close enough for her to disturb you.

Yet with Soomi moved out for good, the place felt...odd to stay by yourself.

So you found yourself spending more and more time at Felix's. It's nice to have a place to crash in every now and then, the sex is great and when you get hungry after, you don't have to think twice about scouring the fridge.

You don't know why you put off spending time aside from sleeping together at all, more time spent didn't necessarily add to your deal or subtract from it....because the action itself doesn't really mean anything. Everyone gets tired of being alone at some point. That's a universal fact.

Initially, you told yourself your presence was a consequence of Chan catching you two in the shower one night...so now that the cat's out of the bag, you two figured his place could become the only premise you didn't have to play pretend in. You both knew the elder would be more than willing to keep the younger's secret even if he didn't exactly approve of it.

With the increased frequency of your visits, bits and pieces of you remain dispersed all throughout the apartment, your body wash in his bathroom, your underwear in his laundry, the smell of you in his sheets, on his clothes. You had relaxed yourself through the periphery of his life and he had small glimpses of yours, habits and flaws, unknowingly...or knowingly....whatever. — Felix could only thank God that Chan had found out, in spite of the revelation itself putting you both in a compromising position.

With time, he starts to keep a few secrets from you too, here and there, knowing that if you knew you will stop doing it altogether. He can't have that...

You throw a leg around his hip when you're fast asleep, flinging an arm not a second later to cage him in your warm embrace. Felix likes the way your chest rises and falls against his back, how your breath tickles his skin and your mouth parts against his shoulder blade. Sometimes he stays awake and waits for you to do it, then when you do, he grins so hard his face hurts a little. Felix likes being the little spoon.

"Are you listening?"

His vision narrows down to the sight of you holding out your palms in the air, there's wet clay on them, as well on your cheek and legs, between them your pottery wheel is halted to desuetude, there's old newspapers layering the floorboard to prevent staining.

"Sorry...," he smiles sheepishly, "What did you say?"

It's your turn to shift your gaze to your feet. Felix thinks it's highly uncharacteristic, the way you seem almost...shy?

"Can you..." You eye the mug mounted on his study desk, he catches onto your request easily, "I'm thirsty—"

"Yeah yeah hold on... careful," Felix chirps, carefully guiding the rim to your lips to make sure it doesn't spill. He uses the tip of his thumb to wipe the corner of your mouth, you flinch first but then whilst the mild shock subsides, simply stare up at him as the pad of his thumb brushes against your skin. "There you go..." he trails, eyes bright with care.

You feel like a child being doted on, the mere emotion plunging you back to when you were 5 and had crushes on boys who shared skittles with you.

"Thanks."

Felix's ears perk up at the courtesy, you were never one to express yourself easily and when you did, every time, he felt inexplicably delighted.

The apples of your cheeks feel hot for some reason, by putting yourselves in in these small situations, you keep confusing him, you know, because you keep confusing yourself too.

You come out again that night but this time Bang Chan is shifting around in the kitchen. He hardly sleeps, you observe, but probably refusing to come out because he wanted to avoid bumping into you.

Chan doesn't seem to like you very much. Probably. You don't blame him. Before you came along, Felix and he spent more time together, now you had become a constant in his life without will.

You have to listen twice to realise he's speaking with you. Not an invisible being behind you.

"What?"

"I said..." His tone dropped dangerously low, he looks annoyed at something. "Listen I don't care what you're doing but don't hurt him." He's wearing a black t shirt and a pair of pajama shorts with cartoon wolves littered all across the baby blue fabric. He's trying to appear intimidating. It's not really working.

You stifle a laugh.

Frankly had you not known how deeply he cared for Felix, you'd not have cared about his advice. Or warning....?

"Fine," you respond, watching as the tension visibly left his body with one bating breath. "I hope this isn't about me stealing your yoghurt though."

"It's a little about stealing my yoghurt," he jokes, you think he's one of those people who'd apologise if you punched them in the face and spat in their drink. It's interesting...

Chan laughs a little. His eyes sparking with amusement for the first time of all the times he's looked at you. Did he trust your word that much?

—

"He talks about you a lot you know,"

You nearly spit out your drink. Seungmin isn't exactly the densest guy you know. Far from it exactly and he isn't discreet either. So your first instinct is to think he knows something.

You watch Felix from a distance, a solo cup in hand, he's laughing at something Hyunjin said, there's a crinkle along the bridge of his nose and his upper lip curls upwards to reveal his teeth. In reality, in everyone's eyes, your lives are separate. They walk on eggshells around you still...you assure yourself there's no way anyone could've guessed.

So you play dumb, glugging the whiskey into your cup. It spills around the edges, landing on the semi-lit neon counter.

"Who?"

Seungmin blinks at you. An unreadable expression on his face.

"Jisung." He says, "Who else?"

You feel yourself getting less excited, the breath you were unconsciously holding passing your entire form. Jisung is the newest addition to your life, a performing arts student who offered to portrait model for a project you'd been given in class. He's cute, forward, which you like a lot. And you notice whilst using him for inspiration, that he looks at you just as attentively as you had at him.

Only for different reasons.

Jisung asks for your number. You say yes. Half-heartedly. Though at the forefront of your mind you keep comparing everyone to the guy you go home to ever so often, you pick out their flaws and their perfections and you think to yourself he isn't like this, he is like this.

"Yeah?" You pose, sipping and wincing. "What did he say?"

"Just the usual stuff...." Seungmin tilts his head, he's not drinking tonight because he has an exam tomorrow. You think it's a little funny that he's carrying around water in a solo cup. "But I can tell he has the hots for you,"

You laugh this time. That's no surprise to you. "Well he's not so bad himself."

Seungmin narrows his eyes, shooting you a suspicious look.

"Of course you'd say that...." He taunts, "Heard you guys hung out...how was that by the way?"

"It was alright. Sort of just...happened. We bumped into each other and he offered to buy me dinner."

"And you...said yes?"

You give him a blank look, sarcasm dripping from your monotonous sentences, how else would you have spent time together?

"No, I didn't, Seungmin,"

The owner of the name rolls his eyes at your satirical comment, "No need to be mean, I'm just a little surprised is all."

"Surprised?"

You raise an eyebrow, Felix is still in your line of sight, it looks like he's stalling, waiting for your conversation to end so you could leave. He glances at you a few times and you quickly text him a 5 more minutes. "Why's that?"

"Cause every time you start to have feelings for someone, you take one step forward and ten steps back," he points out, "Think about it...you haven't been in like an....actual relationship after...well, you know," he postulates.

You glare at Seungmin, your pride somewhat injured.

"Hey! I've....dated."

"No....you slept around with people, that's not the same as dating." He retorts.

You snort.

Wouldn't you know.

Minho changes an upbeat pop song to something mellow. It's in a foreign language...maybe Spanish, you understand nothing but you don't have to to know it's a sad tune, the lyrics coming together in a melancholic harmony. Your eyes drift away, you feel your attention falter.

It was not unknown for you to have absolute control over your life, be it living your days by strict routine or building such a sturdy pretentious armour around yourself so that your organic self remained unscathed underneath. You had learnt the hard way that being yourself in front of other people would only bring you hurt...but if no one really knew you, no one could hurt you.

This game of hide and seek had become such a long standing practise in your life that it disconnected who you are from who you pretended to be. And every time the extent of your actual desires, monsters much beyond your control rose to the surface, they brought you shame, disgust.

You found those pretences withering away, the shell of protection around you falling apart whenever the thought of Felix crossed your mind. — his heavy noise of content against your neck, his fingers curling into your sheets, his open mouthed kiss against the arch of your hipbone, everything and anything...you had again, despite all your abrasions, become madly consumed by him.

And you must admit to yourself that you are becoming quite ridiculous because of it.

In this strange moment, you realise you almost need Felix to harp on about you even though you specifically asked him to keep all that you have a secret. You want his friends to come scurrying to you to start telling you that he cares so much he can't keep his mouth shut, to be so enamoured with you that his innermost feelings become painfully apparent, that it's utterly stupid of you to not see how he feels about you.

That's not how it goes though. Stuff like that only happens in movies.

Felix responds, texting, "Take all the time you need." Surprised, you steal a glimpse of him, but only when Seungmin isn't looking. You didn't know what you expected, something more crude, that would give away that he was jumping on the balls of his feet to only get into your pants, that would remind you that Felix is nothing but your fuck buddy. You find that you always look for reasons to resent him....because if you did, it meant that you didn't have to acknowledge how you're still in love with him.

You knew what you were in for. And hoping, wanting something more....is no more than wishful thinking.

Felix smiles at you, a genial smile, a simple curve along the corner of his lips which conveys patience, but also something deeper, like...understanding.

Again no matter how much you pushed him away he seemed to find his way back to you in some fashion, just to convey that your union is not all as black and white as you told yourself it was.

You down the entire drink in one swig. Seungmin makes a face at you, the kind he makes when you stick your fries in ice cream for shits and giggles,

"Well....we broke up a long time ago," You hiss at the awful taste stinging your throat, sounding slightly angry. You can't believe it matters still, but when you've been clutching onto something for too long, be it a painful emotion or a memory...you start to think it's the locus of your life, an integral part of you. It terrifies you to think who you'd become without it — vulnerable, malleable, sensitive.

You can't do that again.

The last few weeks, regardless of how good they were, didn't change a thing.

It couldn't. You wouldn't let it.

Seungmin is right, you think, you are taking ten steps back. Just not in the context he thought.

"There's no reason I shouldn't start now."

—

Turns out there is a reason.

Jisung asks you out the next day. He's so friendly that you feel overwhelmed. At all times of the day, he dresses like a frat boy out on his morning jog. A nike running shirt and loose fitted trousers, a baseball cap worn the other way around...it's a little silly.

You don't mind it, having the kind of apathy you would have towards someone you don't know very well.

Everything with him feels new, awkward. But also slightly exciting. He talks too much when he's nervous and you notice that he's almost always nervous because of your personality, as though he can't really put a finger on you and doesn't know what to do about it. Besides...he’s not a horrible kisser either, you muse, he just doesn’t know what you want.

Yet whenever you heard yourself thinking those compliments, you couldn't help but feel utterly guilty, a strangely deep seated feeling that you were doing something wrong.

Why did you feel this way....

Felix isn't your boyfriend anymore. You don't owe him any form of loyalty. You knew that. You're someone who sticks to their gut feelings and your gut had decided that something about seeing Jisung didn't feel right and not just because of Felix, but because you're not interested in a relationship just yet. And you're sure he could tell you aren't, he shouldn't quite expect a call back anytime soon.

"I had a nice time," you say, because it's true. He took you out for ice cream and bought you candy floss when you stared at it for too long.

When Jisung doesn't respond for a hot minute, you follow his trail of vision, which instead of focusing on you, has shifted to the semi-lit backdrop of your apartment. He's too obvious.

"Do...you want to come in?"

He flounders a little at your suggestion, embarrassed. "Would that be alright?....if I did...."

"That depends, are you gonna kill me?"

You say with a straight face. No matter much Jisung prodded at your exterior, you wouldn't budge, like you usually hadn't. Unravelling isn't really your thing so....he can't tell if you're kidding or not.

"No...?"

You snort, "Why do you sound so unsure?"

Jisung's face has grown impossibly red, he could feel his ears burning in indescribable shame. You just have this air about you that makes you incredibly hard to read and it's really attractive.

"I....I didn't..."

You keep your voice, steady, calm, "Relax," "I'm just screwing with you," you say, stepping aside for him to enter, "Make yourself at home."

—

You suppose you were born to study the arts.

You never could consider yourself a studious being. When you were in school, you remember falling behind in classes where the arduous process of revising was required, say mathematics or the sciences even.

Though that realisation hadn't come to you naturally.

Your parents wouldn't take kindly to you not taking up a "well paying" profession and you fell victim to the constant barrage of criticisms, of mockery which ultimately conditioned you to think some part of you, a large part just wasn't good enough.

And with Felix gone....

You were at your worst.

The two years you spent without him were the hardest, a set of years that obliged you to protect yourself from all the hurt around you, inside you. And while the security that you provided yourself is undoubtedly necessary for well...anyone, the process itself had its wicked way of rendering you unspeakably lonely.

You agreed to apply as an engineering major to gain your parents' approval and then transferred to the arts department by the time you'd successfully moved out. You haven't spoken to them ever since...and it hurt you more than you would deign to admit.

When your mum drops over for a surprise visit and chances upon your ex-boyfriend loitering about in your kitchen, fixing up midnight munchies, she takes a natural guess that you've gotten back together. (Which you think is far more agreeable than the truth. Knowing your mother, a staunch supporter of your relationship with him, she wouldn't take lightly to your arrangement.) And before you know it, you're all having dinner.

Felix makes an effort to dress up well, discarding his usual hoodies and joggers for a more formal look, you suspect it has something to do with the fact that you haven't attended any casual settings with him since you broke up.

Cutlery clinks against ceramic, coming down with a semi-loud thump as you try to swallow the enormous lump in your throat. Your mum makes a passing jab at you, saying how you had settled for a much "easier" major than say architecture or philosophy, she bitterly mentioned that everything worked out in the end. After all, your choice is a "much fitting" field of study for someone of your caliber, backhandedly insinuating that you're far too stupid to pursue anything else.

What inspires hilarity is how those insults still affected you. In front of Felix, you act like these few years have brought the fighter out in you and here you are trying to blink away the onslaught of tears prickling your vision. It feels like someone stripped you off your skin, off your flesh and picked out all your shortcomings for him to see.

You expect him to stay quiet, you expect him to think of you as the utterly shameful, selfish being you tell yourself you are,

But Felix's fingers find your shaky knuckles under the table where they rest on your knee, he implants the weight of them in a reassuring squeeze. "Well I think it's great," he says instead, smiling cheerfully at your mum. To which she, for the lack of support, sheepishly beams at him, "Not many people have the drive to do what they want to do. Or know what they want to do...take it from me, Missus [.....]" He laughs nonchalantly, the hairs on the back of your neck standing to attention upon hearing the lovely sound. You always liked his laugh, the sound rippling against your naked skin, thick baritone when he'd just woken up and a kiddish falsetto when he's extremely happy.

You wonder when you started paying so much attention.

Felix glances at you, lingering for a long minute."I bet it took a lot of guts."

You feel your chest constrict with a sudden surge of emotion from the mere look, you can't remember if the Felix you knew in the past, or anyone for that matter, had ever beamed at you with such pride.

You wonder what he'd think if he knew about Jisung, why you had neglected to tell him at all....you knew, because this little moment is precious to you and you had no reason to tarnish it. Not when you had time.

You tilt your head, using your free hand to hastily find the back of his neck, drawing closer to him with little strength. The more he realised what you're doing, the more excited he got. See he found your newly introduced public display of affection immensely attractive, though obviously embarassed by the sudden motion...

You can do crazy things sometimes. Really crazy things. In public and he has never opposed to such exhilarating things, be it in restrooms or even in a similar setting when you were dating, there was a certain thrill to it which drove him to the brink of insanity. Felix would silently implode your attention when you were alone and when you were out in the open, in whichever way he was to receive it, the way which insinuated you were his was the best of them all. All that was fine though...because it was just the two of you.

But now...in this indecent time, he wishes he could hear what you're thinking.

Had... had you gone completely mad?! Your mum is looking!

Your face is stoic, Felix's mouth parts, then you reach over and kiss him shamelessly.

Over the years, all the things that have caused you pain were things you had endured on your own, in his absence. This realisation alone invites a heavy conviction inside you.

Because you know it just as well as he does, no matter how sincere he is to you — you don't need Felix. Not really.

But you want him.

—

You do a stupid thing. A stupid endearing thing and Felix's heart beats like it would jump out of his mouth if he opened it.

It was meant to be a secret, what you two have, a matter of uncomplicated lust which didn't require the attention of anyone because it initially or so you put it, wasn't important enough.

Then you charge to him, he supposes it has a little to do with the person who was blatantly flirting him in the middle of Changbin's Halloween party, he doesn't care though.

You don't like embarrassing yourself, so he doesn't actually expect you to wear a black cat hairband matching his white ears and feline tail. Felix wants to think it means something, how despite the coos and the caas, the giant wave of surprise washing over your friends, you interlace your fingers within his and kiss his cheek.

He doesn't what that makes the two of you now... but he would give you all the time in the world to figure that out if it meant you could be his again.

—

You trace your fingers against outline of his face. Splatters of moist moonlight kissing the high rise of his cheeks, dusting along the long fringe of lashes which cast shadows along his skin, his freckles are like dots of bronze dispersed on his skin. He's beautiful like this.

"You're thinking too much," he says with his eyes closed, smiling a little. "Don't think so much."

You laugh. "Or what, huh?"

Felix cracks an eye open, his grin big, kiddish. "I was hoping you'd say that," he rubs the tip of his nose against your collarbone, he snuggles closer to your chest. What you hadn't expected was how he shifted his entire weight onto you, lying entirely atop you as though he were a starfish.

You couldn't stop laughing at the motion, it's so cheesy and gross...you love it.

—

Here's something you don't know — Jisung tells his friends everything, about making out with you and taking you out...everything. News travels fast. Faster than you anticipated. Despite wanting to divulge the matter, you were too taken by the recent shifts in your feelings to confess to your little interaction. You had told yourself again and again — a little later, just a little later and I’ll tell him.

It could be too late now.

The entire campus knew of your little rendezvous, shooting you curious looks... it's not until Minho comes up to verify the floating rumours do you all but sprint to Felix's place. You think of Chan's trusting eyes, of don't hurt him, of laughing in the intimacy of your bedroom and swiping your fingers down his spine like you were trying to commit the undulating design to memory.

You're not sure where it all began.

but you don't want it to end.

Felix doesn't answer your calls or your messages. When he buzzes you up, just from his gait, just from the resigned look in his eyes, you know he knows.

You watch as he listlessly leaves you to enter, walking before you without saying as much as a word.

You grab Felix’s elbow, making him stop in his tracks. He looks at your fingers wrapping around the muscle, shrugging you off easily. It’s just a small gesture but its impact is so large...that you feel your heart break into a million pieces.

You had never seen Felix being so quiet, even when he was down, he found a manner to radiate a form of optimistic energy which baffled you. You can’t believe how much you could have possibly hurt him.

“I can explain.” you gulp, “We went out on one date. It wasn’t because I liked him, I know it’s stupid and...I should’ve told you. I’m sorry, that's not an excuse, but you have to trust me when I say it didn’t...it doesn’t mean anything to me—”

“Did you sleep with him?”

With his back turned away, he still isn’t looking at you, speaking to you with a surprisingly stable tone.

“No.”

Felix takes a shuddering breath, one which expresses the small relief of knowing that Jisung hadn’t seen, touched you, felt you in the way that he only had, but there’s still so much more he wants to know.

“Did he make you laugh?”

It’s a silly question, he realises belatedly but he can’t help it. Some part of him, a large part, thinks he’d be more hurt if you made someone happy and they made you happy than if you fucked them.

You shake your head even though he can’t see you. “He didn’t.”

Your fingers again reach for his, wrapping your index into his thumb. You slowly move your hands to his middle, clutching him close to your chest, chin hooking into his shoulder, suddenly...you feel him melt into the embrace. Felix’s voice falters for the first time, small trembles against you. You’re willing to answer all his queries if it could put his mind at ease. You put your heart on hold for too long.

"Do you hate me...?" He sniffles.

You blink....did you?

Felix had changed, like you, he had matured, the past version of him you had so stubbornly ingrained in your endless inner monologue is not the one you grew all too familiar with...

Familiarity does breed contempt, does it not? Well you think the line between love and contempt is untraceable, melded together as a mysterious whole. After all those years, you were still angry, still filled to the brim with contempt for him and more importantly, yourself because you still love him much more than you'd like to admit. After all you've been through. After all this time. The need to love him ultimately encompassed every other emotion which posed itself as a hindrance.

So the opposite of love, the absence of love, you think, isn't hate, it's indifference. An emotion you never felt towards him.

Felix has wedged himself into every aspect of your life, tainted every portion of your routine in his presence and in his absence.

You don't think you'd have it another way.

"You broke my heart," you explain, "I was angry....but I could never hate you for the sake of hating you."

"I can't..." Felix whispers, twisting his body so he could look at you now, “I can’t promise you that it won’t be hard but I'm not—I’m not going anywhere...you know that right?”

You lean your forehead against his, his eyes shifting to your mouth, hands rising to wrap around your neck. You smile.

“I know.” you say, "Me neither."

“I love you...” He says in a small voice, putting his hand against your knuckles. “Do you love me?”

Your eyes soften, cupping his face like this — carefully collecting a lone tear with your thumb before it could touch his cheek. This time there is not a shred of hesitancy, no pause, no pondering before you say,

“I never stopped.”

—

You enter in a blind rush of panic, thinking you might miss your ride, feet knocking together, elbows hitting elbows, bustling all around you and the sudden overwhelming stench of people hit you, it’s not an ideal setting, not at all actually.

But you couldn’t bother to be displeased a second you spent with him. A teenager rolls her eyes at how disgustingly in love you are, elderly couples tutting under their breath...albeit, you don’t fail to notice their subtle smiles, small shake of their heads which attested to the fact that the joy you both radiate is.. absolutely infectious. You stumble with him behind, Felix is laughing breathlessly, bumping into your chest as the train suddenly starts moving, you place a finger on his cheek and he raises his chin to look at you.

“Did you eat?” he repeats, mocking himself, a dialogue from a time which seems an element of the distant past replaced by a love which compensated for every hitch in your relationship. You still argue, still disagree and still make up the same. Felix was right, it isn’t easy.

But when two people love each other as much as you do,

it’s worth trying. With every fibre of your being.

“No.” You laugh, playing along, “But I could, with you.”

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lit-in-thy-heart · 3 years

Text

and the next instalment of the merlin gif analysis saga is...

gwaine realising he's in love with merlin

because i want to make myself cry

Glossing over the fact that the first gif actually makes something in my chest clench, this seems to be the episode where Gwaine realises that he might be a lot little in love with Merlin.

Elyan definitely seems to believe that Gwaine is in love with someone in 5×06 (thanks @sneakyboymerlin for reminding me of that) and you could argue that Gwaine's lack of interaction with Merlin in 5×05 proves that it's not Merlin he's in love with, but think about it.

Gwaine rarely reveals his true feelings when he's around other people, but Merlin seems to be the exception. He's put himself out on the line before (yes I'm thinking about the 'Not Arthur' scene, I'm always thinking about that scene) because he can't seem to help but lay himself bare in front of Merlin. So if he's realised that he cares for Merlin a bit more than he should, he is going to be terrified of revealing that fact, and avoids Merlin because that's the only way he is going to be able to process his feelings.

Because Gwaine has it bad.

He loves Merlin subtly, powerfully. In the first gif, he casts a glance over his shoulder to make sure that Percival is still behind him and has still got hold of Merlin (honestly I don't know what they'd do without Percival, he's essentially the assigned transportation knight) and what's really interesting is what Gwaine is doing with his hand. It's not quite gripped on his sword, but hovering above it, with the fingers splayed. And perhaps I'm projecting but that is a movement I usually associate with trying to calm yourself down when panicked. As if he's telling himself to take a breath and everything will be fine. And the way Gwaine takes Merlin from Percival is so painfully gentle. He lets Merlin's body fall into his arms, rather than actively manipulating his form with his hands. Gwaine seems very reluctant to disturb Merlin in any way at all, choosing to kneel behind his head and slow down the process of setting Merlin down, despite the situation being quite dire. He handles Merlin like he's a glass ornament, as if he's afraid of him shattering at any moment.

Merlin is relatively well-supported by the makeshift bed they've got going on, yet Gwaine chooses to leave his hand resting on Merlin's shoulder. In fact, it doesn't look just like it's resting, but he's moulded his whole hand to fit around Merlin's shoulder. His hand doesn't need to be there. Gwaine doesn't even need to be there. He could easily be stood with the other knights, yet his instinct is to be as close to Merlin as he can. The only way he could be closer is by having Merlin in his lap, but that would probably make it more difficult for Gaius to examine him.

Gwaine has never really been one to shy away from physical contact. In the season 3 episodes he consistently provides Merlin with hugs (mostly when Arthur has rejected him but we'll get onto that whole thing in a bit) despite not knowing each other for that long. Even later on in this episode, he drops all the firewood to give Merlin a hug when he recovers. There seems to be an instinctive urge to be close to Merlin. And the fact that Merlin's head is resting on Gwaine's forearm is making me want to curl up in a ball and scream. And maybe Gwaine has never questioned this eagerness for physical contact before. But by the second gif, I think he knows what his initial refusal to be away from an unconscious Merlin means.

And a key part to this analysis is something I never thought I'd be looking at in depth, as glorious as it is: Gwaine's hair.

The first image directly follows the first gif, and the second image precedes the second gif. You can see that Gwaine's hair in the first image is much flatter than it is in the second. By the time Arthur and Co have left and Merlin is still unconscious, Gwaine seems to have been running his hands consistently through his hair. It's significantly messier and, whilst it could be argued that the wind plays a part, Gaius's hair remains largely unaltered. And one way to try and deal with stress or panic is to run your fingers through your hair again and again. It's not difficult to believe that Gwaine has been pacing up and down doing exactly that because Merlin is still not waking up.

If he was panicked before, then he's feeling tormented now. His hair, pushed out of his face in the first gif and image, is falling unchecked into his face and Gwaine, who usually keeps his hair in a relatively immaculate condition, is doing nothing about it. Because Merlin is lying right in front of him, potentially dying, and he has no clue how to deal with that.

In the second gif, Gwaine partially turns away and looks up, seeming to take a quick breath. He's deliberately not looking at either Merlin or Gaius, and this reaction comes after Gaius implies that Merlin could have internal injuries. And if there's internal damage and Gaius doesn't know how to deal with it, then Merlin doesn't stand a chance. And it's quite possible that Gwaine is looking up like that to try and blink away tears or just to ground himself. Merlin has been seriously injured before (think of the writers using him as a bit of a punching bag in season 4) but that damage was always external and Merlin was healed rather quickly. If it's internal, then nothing can be done by Gwaine. And it is when Gwaine is faced with the thought of being without Merlin that he realises just how much he needs him.

And when there's the slimmest chance that Gwaine might be able to help, he launches himself into it. When Gaius tells him to get firewood, he starts off in a manner that is almost a sprint, before seeming to realise that being in that much of a rush would expose his feelings, and he hesitates before electing for a fast walk instead. Because the only way he can keep himself from falling apart is to focus on helping Merlin and the possibility that he might be alright after all.

Look at his face here. He is stunned, then ecstatic, then confused. And the way that he moves towards Merlin makes it clear that he is not going to give him the trademark one-armed hug, but a full-on embrace. And Merlin brushes Gwaine off, because he doesn't have the time because Arthur is in danger and Gwaine probably should be paying more attention to what Merlin is saying but he's not. He's giving Gaius a tender smile as if to thank him for helping Merlin.

Gwaine hasn't made any mention of Arthur or the knights, even though it is a dangerous mission with or without knowing it's a trap, and his preoccupation with Merlin shows just how deeply he cares for him. The fact that his first instinct is once again to make physical contact with him, even though there was the prospect of internal damage and hugging Merlin might not have been the best thing to do, just says that Gwaine has got it tremendously bad for Merlin.

It took the thought of Merlin dying for Gwaine to realise that he was in love with him, and Gwaine spends the rest of the series struggling to deal with that.

He distances himself from Merlin for two episodes, not engaging in any conversations with just the two of them, until--

THE SUBTEXT.

Merlin's glance down in the first gif, demonstrating that he'd also do anything to protect his mother, is one thing, but Gwaine's reaction? The subtle sag of his body, the eyes darting down away from Merlin, the gentle swallow. In that moment, he's thinking how he would do anything to protect Merlin. Gwaine's gaze lingers on Merlin for a moment before he looks away, realising that Merlin has no idea how he feels about him. There's so much tenderness in that one look, especially after the slight annoyance that there seemed to be when Merlin kept talking about Arthur.

Gwaine was Merlin's friend before he was a knight. But Merlin only seems to see him as a knight these days, and Gwaine seems to decide that the only way he can indicate any of the love he has for Merlin is by being what Merlin wants him to be: a soldier to protect Arthur.

You have my word on it, Merlin.

You have my word that I will protect the one you care about the most. You have my word that I will keep him safe for you, so you don't have to feel the same pain I did. You have my word that I will put my life on the line for him, because he means more to you than I ever will.

Because this is when Gwaine realises that though he may love Merlin, Merlin will not love him back.

The way Gwaine falls back in his chair is incredibly interesting. There seems to be a bit of an impact with his shoulders, suggesting that he's hitting it with some force, but his limbs seem pretty tense. He's not slumping back in it from fatigue, he seems to be subtly throwing himself back in it. Because when Merlin was injured, Gwaine was thinking only about him and worrying about his welfare. But when Gwaine himself is injured (or has faced a threat of injury), Merlin spends the whole time talking about Arthur. And Gwaine can never measure up to Arthur. Gwaine only received hugs from Merlin when he'd been rejected by Arthur; a part of him believes that he's second best to Arthur in Merlin's eyes. And Gwaine is resigned to that, to never being able to measure up to Arthur, but is not happy about it. But he clings on to Merlin in whatever ways he can. By protecting Arthur. By greeting him when he's released from the cells and being one of the first faces he sees.

And just before their final interaction in the finale, Gwaine doesn't give Merlin a hug after Merlin has faced injury, but a touch on the arm. A touch that is incredibly similar to the one Arthur has given Merlin many times.

Because maybe, just maybe, if Gwaine can prove that he's similar to Arthur, then Merlin might look at him in the same way he looks at Arthur. Might prioritise Gwaine for once. Might even return a fraction of the love that Gwaine hasn't known what to do with for most of the season.

Gwaine would do anything for Merlin, but, by the final season, Merlin only sees him as a shield for Arthur.

#good morning everyone #maybe i am just projecting my behaviours and reactions onto gwaine but i think the point does stand #i feel like this does very much link to merlin's lack of self-worth and how he feels arthur is more important than him #gwaine could prove him wrong but gwaine doesn’t want to face rejection #so he drops subtle hints everywhere but never comes straight out with it #but in conclusion gwaine loves merlin and eira is a rebound and merlin is too preoccupied with keeping arthur alive to notice anything #so gwaine never reveals his feelings #and everyone ends up unhappy #so yay to that #merlin #gwaine #merwaine #merlin meta #merlin gif thoughts #bbc merlin #my gifs #merlin spoilers #bbc merlin spoilers #merlin season 5 spoilers

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b0rista · 3 years

Text

— ❝︎ 𝐘𝐎𝐔 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐎 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍! 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐀𝐔. ·˚ ༘

♡︎ : the atmosphere i'm going for is frustratingly difficult to describe djjfjg the word "somber" doesn't really do it for me, but it's pretty much these emojis 🌑🌨🎞💸🚬⛓🔭

lowkey just wanted to put this trio & y/n (aka the loml) in a really dark, gloomy, modern metropolis type of place full of cold weather, inner monologues, and cigarettes JFKGK

ALSO my insp was the reiner + annie fanart in the center of the divider i made!! i really wish i knew the artist, but i couldn't find them :(( definitely NOT taking credit, it isn't my art whatsoever. but LOOK AT THEM UGH THE AESTHETIC

to balance things out, i wrote the reader as female! && characters are aged up to their early twenties.

the bunch of you met through your college courses— of course, the three of them had known one another since childhood, but you managed to weasel your way into their close-knit friend group. ever since then, you all share the melancholy city life.

during your guys' campus days, reiner worked for his master's in kinesiology. it isn't that big of a shocker that he aimed for something that pertained to his bulkier build,, mans grows up to be an absolute unit, lmao. wanting to maintain an above average salary, he used his education to earn himself a place in the certified training department. currently, he's a personal trainer of many clients, all of which he does his best to maintain.

bertholdt majored in philosophy, and worked toward his master's degree. with his intelligence, he got it. while all three of you (reiner especially), urged him to pursue non-profit professionalism, praising his skill and all around ability to do so, he lacked the confidence to push for it, and ended up going down another path. currently, he's sticking to the safe road, aiming to become a professor in the very course he excelled in. he's yet to get there, though— right now, he's a professor's assistant. it's less tiring, at least. still, he was capable of becoming something better.

as for annie, she majored in political science. unlike the other two, she worked to obtain a bachelor's degree. with that being said, she attended college for a little longer. eventually, she got her degree, and while she was a little lost after graduation, she made her way into the policy analyst game. she had the writing skills, sOmewhat of the drive, and while she's the youngest worker in her office, she's also the brightest. they're all also terrified of her, she speaks .6 words a day.

of course, what you did is entirely up to you! if you took two or three years to get your degree, you likely graduated alongside the boys. if it took longer, no worries, annie's degree took quite a bit.

now, the four of you are living in the same city, and you're all experiencing that said city's constant mournful, dingy atmosphere. the aesthetic is calming, actually; the weather is never nice, it's a rarity that you ever get an actual glimpse of the sun. no matter the season, so long as it isn't summertime, layers are a must. rainfall is a weekly occurrence, as well as the occasional thunderstorm. the merged stench of coffee grounds and burnt oil linger within the streets of the city, simply adding to the melancholy. basically, the general scenery is dark, cold, wet, and quiet. it's a gloomy place,, definitely comparable to forks, washington, but more of a metropolis than a town.

even with all of that being said, you and your friends have a good time. honestly, if you didn't all have eachother, you'd all probably go mental.

while reiner and bertholdt have their own seperate apartments, you and annie share a place. the rent was cheap, especially once split between two homeowners. two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a single kitchen & living area. it was too good of a deal to pass up. fortunately, you and her are compatible roomates.

with that being said, of course, it's often that the four lounge around at your guys' apartment. bertholdt always makes sure to check in before visiting, while reiner has the sour habit of showing up unannounced. you've both had to deny him a key, despite his pleading. you love him, but not that much.

sometimes, the two of them crash in your living room. typically, it's reiner on the couch while bertholdt takes up the floor, waking up the next morning in whatever flamboyant position he'd folded himself into during the night. every now and then, you and annie forget to head back to your rooms, and you crash right there with them. before you all fall asleep, you're typically all huddled up near the glass doored balcony, allowing the rainfall to serenade the four of you into a deep slumber whilst sitting within the crisp remnants of cigarette smoke and freshly opened liquor.

in a way, it's funny, because you all have a tendency to do that on a work night. just the four of you, sitting in your living room, drinking your alcohol, coating your furniture in the brisk stench of pure, solicited nicotine, watching your very own city drown within the darkening sky's tears as little to zero words are even spoken. when it comes to you and your friends, that's something that can never be contradicted; the quiet. these were how you spent your evenings together, especially after a rough day— silence, smoking, and the most peaceful sorrow imaginable.

of course, when you aren't wallowing in your own self pity, you're known to get drinks together. there's this certain booth in a local pub, it had burnt burgundy seats made out of leather. it's your guys' booth, and whenever you go out for a drink or two, that's where you sit. it's way back in the corner, where none of you can be bothered. one time, a couple of rascals had stolen it, and they refused to move. without a second thought, annie slammed one of those motherfucker's faces into the table. in suite, reiner took care of the other one, yanking him from the collar and kicking him to the floor. you and bertholdt only watched,, you were laughing, poor bert simply dragGed his palm down his face.

hey, at least you got your seats back! absentmindedly, you etched your initials into the bottom of the table with your pen. without a thought, the other three did the same, marking the corner as their own. don't fuck with that table, you'll be slaughtered.

when winter hits, it hits mercilessly. it's insanely aesthetic, seeing your group standing on the side of the busy street, all absolutely layered up in buttoned up winter coats and thickly knitted scarves. because they're both unnecessarily large, you depend on them for warmth every now and then. the amount of times you've buried your face within reiner's side while sitting on the subway during the midst of wintertime is stupid. as for bertholdt, he occasionally takes off his very own coat, draping it over you or annie's shoulders whenever either of you are seen shivering. he doesn't mind getting a cold, so long as you're warm.

speaking of the subway, your city has one. it's a pretty average way to travel, and due to none of you actually owning your own vehicles, it's where you go whenever walking or taking the bus isn't an option. the only one who isn't allowed to ride the subway alone is you. there was instance where on your way home from work, you had a run-in with an unpleasant bystander with the means to hurt you. ever since then, a code has been set where if you want to travel underground, you do it with one of them.

^ one time, you didn't listen, and you went by yourself anyway— unfortunately for you, reiner was boarding the exact same stop as you, and gave you quite the scolding. however, it's only because you're special to him. to all of them.

you and annie are actually closer than you'd imagine. being one of the only female friends she's ever been able to keep, you've grown to be an important figure in her life. of course, she'd never admit that to you, but you know. some nights, the two of you lean against one another on the sofa while black & white reruns play on the television, ultimately sending you both to sleep.

once a week, you have lunch with bertholdt at the university he assists at. you know just how glum the work makes him, and fortunately, you showing up every single sunday with coffee and sandwiches never fails to brighten his day. sometimes, you're the only one that can get him through the week.

bert's crush on annie is still very much a thing, even in this universe. of course, he's older, and for the most part, he's grown out of it. still, he stares. not as much as he once did, but he does. you and reiner only watch from afar, quietly sullen that he'd never quite gotten the guts to act on it.

bertholdt is also the group's umbrella holder. it's constantly raining, and due to his height, he's the one holding the bigass umbrella over the four of your guys' heads. when there isn't an umbrella, you just sort of seek refuse underneath his arms, which he gladly gives you. reiner and annie don't really mind, they get wet. it is a thing where you're all rushing to get out of the rain, the two men shielding the women's hair from the storm with their jackets as they run for shelter.

you all smoke. well, actually, whether or not you smoke cigarettes in this scenario is entirely up to you. if you'd like, ignore this part. anyway, cigarette sharing is a given. while reiner's preferred brand of darts is far more lucrative and more likely to kill him (he's dead inside, it fits), he won't hesitate to snatch a cigarette from in between the tips of your lips, bringing them to his own. it's something all of you do, even bertholdt. sharing is caring, you all say. you tend to do the same thing with wine glasses, or beer bottles.

it's practically gotham city, you're all dead inside grownups, god isn't real.

irllydidn'tlikehowthisturnedout-

#attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot headcanons #aot au #aot scenarios #reiner braun #bertholdt hoover #annie leonhart #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #modern aot

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etheraella · 3 years

Text

The Lost Letter for Love

(Fred Weasley x Reader)

Summary : 10 years of friendship through letters, and being a hopeless romantic didn’t help you realise your feelings for your best friend, until it might be too late.

Warnings : MUGGLE!AU slow-burn, angst, violence if you squint, best friends-to-lovers, a few cursing you probably won’t realise.

Feet shuffling against the living room carpet, you finally let your body slump on the sofa with a sigh. The sound of wrinkling leather waves through the empty corridor of your shared house. You ignored it, knowing that one of your housemates (who also happen to be your best friends) might come huffing into the room for continuously abusing furniture. With the same occasion happening countless number of times that week, you expected them to grow tired of your mood swings.

You reached for the nearest cushion beside you, digging your fingers onto the sides of the rough object, before stuffing your face into it; rage burning in your chest for a peculiar Weasley. You lift your face from the cushion furiously, running your hands through your hair.

"Is it that hard for that git to take time and write to me?" you cursed under your breath.

You heard a scoff before lifting your head and meeting eyes with your friend, Delilah. She was leaning against the archway of the living room. "Go on, explain yourself." she said, walking to the couch beside you -- leaving a gap, knowing you might blow off any minute if bothered. Before you could reply, she shakes her head. "And don't lie to me, you've been acting like a maniac, plotting a murder for a week now."

"She probably is, It's been 3 weeks since she last received a letter from her long-distance boyfriend. Of course she's gone mad." You needn't turn around, knowing it was your other roommate, Sara.

"Fred." you say gripping the sweat-stained pillow and throwing it at her. "Is my best friend," pausing before adding "Nothing more," then leaning against the couch.

You bit your lip in frustration, pulling off a few loose threads from the hem of your sleeves in anger, "Be patient, Y/N," Delilah says, patting your back. "He might be busy with his shop or dealing with.. well, whatever he might be doing," You rolled your eyes, seeing the now sitting Sara looking at you, sympathetically.

"Well, he can do whatever the hell he wants for all I care. No actually--I don't care, they're just letters." You stood up and stormed up to your room. Shutting the door with a click, you hear muffled voices of your two friends, one of them saying "Wasn't she enraged three minutes ago".

You feel your head spinning before pulling out a specific letter from a wooden box and leaning against the desk. The words that were inked on the paper still enliven the butterflies in your stomach, even after you've memorised them. It was the last letter you received from him before his gifts came to an abrupt stop. You felt like a 16 year old teenager feeling giddy over a crush. Your eyes widen -- reminding yourself "NO Y/N, he's just a friend!" Suddenly remembering you weren't supposed to be 'caring', you cringed to yourself before shoving the letter back in the box weighing a heavy heart.

━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━

You let your body fall against the soft mattress with a squeal, staring up the ceiling whilst clutching the new envelope up to your chest. Without realising the rapid rate of your heartbeat, you impatiently tore open the envelope and unfolded its content.

Dearest Y/N,

I hope this letter finds you in the best of spirits.

I deeply apologise for this delayed reply as I have been quite busy with the joke shop here. Formalities aside, I'm going to be making a few business arrangements in your town. George thought I should go instead of him, and I definitely agree with him. I can't wait to see you, and expect me to ring your house phone tomorrow to discuss. Sadly, I'd have to make this letter short, pumpkin.

P.S bring along that beautiful smile of yours when we meet.

Yours lovingly,

Fred G. Weasley

A smile forms across your face as you read his words, your heart doing summersaults. Before you could trace his signature, you hear a knock on your bedroom door. Sighing, you opened the door, seeing an eyebrow raised Delilah and Sara. Seeing your friends just makes you want to squeeze them in a hug of joy. The smile on your lips didn't falter as you tried forming words "I-"

"We know, Y/N." Delilah interrupted. "We guessed the moment you turned all giddy when coming home. You even fell from the entrance stairs! What'd he say?" Sara asked, smirking. You stared at them, the red mark on your ankle feeling suddenly obvious.

"He said he's going to be dealing with a few business things here. I think he's coming in a few days." You say, your smile growing wider as the words escape your lips. Fred and you have met before. Only, it was twice or trice a year from a long-distance decade of friendship.

Your friendship with Fred was a rather complicated story that even to you, seems a little cliche of how it started with a single complication.

A letter,

The letter had somehow mistakenly ended up to your address, knowing that a 'Hermione Granger' doesn't exist in your household. Being the hopeless romantic you are, you thought it was some kind of love letter so you tore open the letter and read it. In the midst of the paragraph, you feel a pang of guilt as the letter has only to do with family matters. You cursed yourself, and felt sorry for the sender and immediately returned the letter to the signed name 'Fred Weasley' with an attached paper for explanation.

A few days after, you received a letter a letter from him, this time with your name as the addressee. Fred apolagised and offered his gratitude for returning his letter, as it was his mistake for writing the wrong address after all.. And that ladies and gents, was the story on how your friendship was formed.

Although the two of you had exchanged numbers on paper, you fancied the idea of continuing to use the old method with letters, as it was a reminder of how the two of you had gotten to know each other. Fred had always been open about his family and business to you. The both of you admitted that you weren't romantically involved with anyone, but decided to leave that topic 2 years ago. Surely, if he was in a relationship, he'd let you know anyway.

The more often you and Fred exchanged letters, the more you felt a tinge of excitement as he expresses his life and thoughts to you, hoping he'd feel the same. Sometimes, you'd spend endless nights rereading a few old letters of his which you cherished in a wooden box, paragraphs memorised.

Fred took you to meet his family on the third year of your friendship, even Hermione who was Fred's future sister-in-law back then was there. Molly Weasley had sent you presents for Christmas since then, which contained her self-made sweaters. You wondered how much Fred mentioned you to the Weasleys.

━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━

Later that week, Fred gave you a call, arranging your meeting for an evening. As soon as you saw the red-head arrive on your front door, you smiled and embraced him in a friendly hug. Fred, who was towering over you, looked the same as he always did; charming, with freckles painted on the bridge of his nose, enough to sway any girl’s feet.

"How's my pumpkin doing?" he grins, with a raised brow. You feel your face heating from the sound of his low-pitched voice calling the nickname he gave you 4 years ago. "I'm doing fine, Freddie." you said, returning his grin. The two of you immediately caught yourselves in a conversation on the journey. Clueless as to where Fred was taking you.

"Are you trying to kidnap me?" you scoffed jokingly, after the fourth time you had asked Fred for the destination while he was continuously refusing. "Pumpkin, I would have ordered someone to bring you to my hotel if I was." he winked, glancing sideways at you, making your cheeks blow bright pink in the shadow of the night. "But then again, I won't be kidnapping if I don't do it myself".

Finally, the two of you arrived at a coffee shop, "Is this the 'surprise', Freddie?" you asked him, getting out of the car.

"Not exactly." he smiles. The smell of baked muffins hit your nostrils as you enter the shop. Fred led you to a seat while you silently followed him, he stopped at a corner table next to a huge window, a girl with long black hair was already occupied.

"Y/N, I'd like to introduce you to Grace, my girlfriend." Fred turns to you with a prideful grin plastered across his face. "Darling, this is my best friend, Y/N." You felt your heart stop. Following his gaze, your eyes landed on the girl appearing to be his girlfriend, smile up at you, showing her pearly white teeth. Quickly pushing your overfilled thoughts away, you shook her hand, the room suddenly became insufferable. You forced a smile as you hesitantly took the seat opposite to them.

"Since, you're my best friend and all, I thought the two of you should meet." Even though he sounded as if it was meant for you, he didn't spare you a single glance. "Yes, Y/N. Seeing how much you meant to him and all." Grace smiled slightly, "I mean.. as friends." Grace added pressing the word 'friends'. You could’ve sworn you saw a sly look in her icy blue eyes, but shook it off, trying your best to act natural, smiling back at her sweetly.

━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━

Every time you glanced at Fred, you felt a stinging pain in your chest; maybe you were just feeling protective over him? But does that include wanting to have him all for yourself, as selfish as it is? It felt wrong with the idea of loving your best friend, but it felt right loving him.

Regretfully, you felt like an idiot for not recognizing your feelings sooner and denying them. The missed opportunities you could have experienced if you had just revealed your true feelings to him whether it was on paper, on phone or even in person. Were you just scared of ruining your friendship?

Sara and Delilah noticed your change in behaviour when Fred’s name pops up in random conversations, until one night you burst into tears and poured your bottled-up feelings onto them. It didn't help matters when you and Fred met, the blue-eyed minkle always tagged along. When Fred wasn't around, she bared her venom-like teeth. "I've seen the way you look at Fred, I'm not stupid."

And from there onwards…

"You're too immature for Freddie."

…you started knowing her more than Fred ever will.

"The two of you have been friends for what? A decade? He's known me a year, guess we all know who he sees as his lover and who as a friend."

That last statement hurt enough for you to have to restrain yourself from slapping the smirk off her face as she said it. You tried your best to act normally in front of Fred, but you knew seeing them together was a pain too unbearable for you to handle, so you declined his hangout calls and started seeing him less and less.

The last thing you wanted was to destroy their relationship by breaking down in front of the person you cared for, and revealing Grace's true colours. Knowing Fred, he'd side with you and break up with Grace, but seeing them together made you realise how happy they were. Fred deserved the happiness Grace brought him. And you’re well aware that the feelings he shared with her were much more in depth than the ones he shared with you, because when he looks at her, his face says it all

A/N : Hi ! This is Luna, SO the ending wasn’t what I had in mind but overall, this story gives me victorian era vibes idk why lmao. OMG all my love goes to Celeste for helping me edit this, please reblog and comment if you like this fic :) We haven’t been active lately due to studying and all, but now we’re back with more fics. + taglist form up soon 🤝

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eugenesmorphine · 3 years

Note

I really love how you write Ronald Speirs! Can I request something like the reader is one of Easy's medics and they're all protective over them but no one knows that the reader and Speirs are married so they're all trying to keep him away from them and something happens where Easy finds out about their marriage? Sorry if that doesn't make any sense and you don't have to write it if you don't want too :)

Secret Love /// Ronald Speirs Imagine

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @punkgeekchic @valterras @floydtab @adamantiumdragonfly

Words: 3,337

Y/N hummed while carrying a crate within her arms. Lugging the crate alongside Perconte. Frank glanced down at the female’s arms and how the strained ever so slightly while she carried the crate. Looking back up at her helmet slipped down in front of her eyes. The big medic cross on the helmet showing even more. Perconte scoffed slightly as he looked at her and slipped her helmet back on top of the paratrooper’s head.

“You sure you don’t need help there Y/N? I can hold it if you would like, can’t have those medic hands of yours hurting,” he smiled warmly at her. Y/N just scoffed slightly and shook her head. Tightening her grip on the wooden crate. Sure it was heavy, but Y/N didn’t want nor needed any help. The guys just always wanted to help her. Like the “gentlemen” they are.

“I told you before, Frank. I don’t need any help. I’ve carried grown men they weigh more than the both of us,” she told him as she continued to walk. Her boots squishing in the mud just a bit. The pair walked past Captain Speirs, and Captain Winters. Y/N shot a small smile towards Speirs. Speirs just softened his eyes and turned his face away. Smiling slightly. While Frank just watched her in awe. Tugging the female along.

“Y/N, what the hell are you doing?! No one just smiles at Speirs unless they want a death wish!” he exclaimed. Y/N just shrugged and smiled to herself. Not too fazed by it, unlike Perconte was more than surprised. Everyone seemed to fear Speirs. A Captain that was full of anger. The horror stories men told about him. And a girl of her size- just smiling and making eye contact with him, and just not fazed whatsoever.

What the men didn’t know was both Y/N and Ronald Speirs were married. They had been together for more than a few years. But to avoid conflict of interest, they barely met up with each other and kept quiet about their relationship. The only people to know of their relationship were the officers. And they even kept their mouths shut.

The few times they would come see each other was late at night when there were no emergencies for either of them to take care of. It was odd that they ended up together. Two completely different people. Y/N was a medic who was known to have a gentle touched that healed many. A set of soft E/C eyes that were warm and welcome. Whilst Ronald Speirs was a man of not hatred, but seemed like it. A hard exterior with what seemed like an even harder interior. A man feared by almost every soldier and Kraut. But not even that kept Y/N away.

///

The two had met during Paratrooper training. Even though Y/N was a part of Easy Company, she was busy patching up one of his soldiers after a group training exercise. Nothing serious, but Speirs had to go and collect his soldier.

He had approached Y/N as she was bandaging up a private’s arm after he fell and cut it up pretty good. Mistaking Y/N for a nurse and questioning why she was on the post since medics were only allowed. Which Y/N turned and smiled up at him. And that is when a jolt of electricity shot through his body. She simply just responded with, “No, sir. I’m the third combat medic with Easy Company, sir. First woman in the airbourne to experience real combat.” She was all proud. And that is what intrigued Ronald all in the start of it all. A woman to make it this far and make her way to get to go on the front lines of combat during World War II was a huge deal.

From that day forward, the two began to bump into each other more and more. Almost like fate brought them together. Sooner or later, they just got together. They disclosed the information to Winters and the other officers, and decided just to keep it quiet with the other men so it wouldn’t seem like favoritism. But they loved each other more than ever, they just kept an eye out for each other on the field, they snuck kisses behind the large trucks when no one was around, it showed their own type of love during such a time in history.

///

Dropping the crate off into one of the larger trucks, she felt Liebgott come and help her push it in. Rolling her eyes she looked up at the lanky man with an annoyed look. “When will the two of you get it through your skulls that I don’t need you guys taking care of me? I can take care of myself!” she exclaimed. Taking a moment to stand on her toes to reach into a few crates to grab some supplies that she needed to refill. That was before they pushed her back slightly to dive their hands in there to hand her some gauze and wraps. Morphine and stitches. Y/N groaned and just stomped her foot. While the boys seemed to not care, just chuckling and helping her.

Ronald and Richard watched the group of three from afar. Ronald crossed his arms as he watched. Winters just chuckled and shook his head slightly. Turning towards his fellow officer. “Are you ever going to actually tell the men? It’s been what? Two… three years now? You guys are married. The men wouldn’t care, Speirs. Plus, they are trying to shelter her away from you,” he snickers. Only receiving a heavy and agitated sigh from the soldier besides him. Frankly, Ronald and Y/N had no particular reason to hide their relationship from the guys. They just kind of did. Never ones to disclose or talk about themselves all that much. They just naturally were private. Their relationship was more of a relationship in private. Work was work. War was war. And that is how they always enjoyed it the past three years.

“Man I don’t know, Dick. It just turns out that way, Y/N doesn’t seem to mind. It seems to keep rumors down, you know,” he said honestly. Captain Ronald Speirs was a difficult man to read. And even harder to understand. But oddly, Dick Winters understood. Another chuckle leaving the redhead’s lips as he shook his head slightly.

“Whatever you say, Speirs. Get your men ready. We are pushing through Foy,” he told him. Patting his shoulder softly and turning to walk. Nixon on his trail. Ronald stood alone as he turned and looked at his woman from afar. Maybe this game of hiding has gone on for too long. Of course Ronald wasn’t one for PDA. But he would enjoy even speaking to her. Maybe even sit in the same foxhole as her from time to time. Maybe it was time..

///

Y/N hid with her back pressed tightly against a building. She worked carefully to wrap a soldier's wounds. He was shot, nothing bad though. The bullet went straight through the lone Sergeant’s leg, missing any main arteries. Tying off some dressings she stood. Her head turned to the forest line. Seeing Ronald have a sharp eye on her as he watched. She shot him a soft smile and turned to run out through the mortar shells and bullets. It was scary. No doubt about it. But she was prepared for it. She couldn’t let fear rest within her and take over. Y/N had a job to do. And the fear of losing her lover or losing her life couldn’t be her top priority. But it still was.

Ronald watched as stress surged within his body and mind. The German military were circling in on his men. And Lieutenant Dyke was sitting there and doing nothing! He was livid. But when he saw his wife sitting out there, trying to keep her head low while she worked on a soldier that had his arm blown off from a mortar shell. And it was when the tip of Y/N’s helmet was hit with a bullet and it flew off her head. Landing in the snow somewhere about six feet away from her. But she kept working on the soldier. Not even blinking twice. Ronald’s teeth grinded down onto each other. His chest heaved as his eyes never left his woman. Gripping his weapon and his dirt coated nails dug into the wood of it. And once he heard those orders from Winters to take over, he definitely took over that position. Sprinting through Foy to link up with I company.

Y/N watched in shock and in horror as she watched her husband. It was brave, but also do idiotic. Standing up and looking at him as the Germans sat there in shock. “Ronald!” she screamed. Her eyes coated with shock and fear as the cold wind whipped the stray strands of hair in front of her face. Her shocked stance quickly ended as she felt a bullet whiz past her face. Slicing her cheek. Dropping to the ground behind the little cover. She poked her head out by the corner as she watched Ronald dive over the small wall. A small sigh of relief. Biting her bottom lip as she waited for a small moment to run to another wounded soldier. Grabbing onto the fabric of his trooper shirt and dragging the man to cover. Beginning to work on his injuries.

Peeking over the cover to do a quick scan for more wounded, she caught a glimpse of her Ronald climbing back over the wall. Her eyes widened as she stood up. Now the Krauts began to fire back. But they missed every shot. She watched as Ronakd took cover and began to fire at the Germans. She shook her head and laughed in shock. Focusing back on her task at hand, she would just yell at him later. Jogging her way to another wounded man. It was war after all. Sometimes you needed stupid decisions that would just quite work. And sacrifices did help. But Y/N never really did pray, but in her head she prayed. She prayed to her lord that she was thankful that Ronald hadn’t made the ultimate sacrifice that day to save them.

///

After I company linked up with Easy Company, taking over the German’s was a piece of cake. I mean after the attack of the sniper. But Y/N was busy helping the other medics with the wounded. Getting men up on Jeeps to be sent to the nearest hospital. And she helped pick up some of the dead to be identified and brought back to town to be sent home. Wiping the sweat off her head as she placed her hands on her hips. Taking some water from her canteen to clean off some of the blood that rested and dried on them. Wiping her wet hands off on her trousers as they began to get cold from the frigid air all around them. Her eyes darted to the side as she saw Ronald walking past her and towards the rest of the Easy Company boys. Placing her helmet onto her head as she turned and gritted her teeth. She was blinded by worry and fear after watching him run through Foy. It turned into anger. Y/N was a patient woman, don’t get me wrong. But when it came to her husband, it was an entire different situation. Especially when he did something as stupid as he did. And boy did Ronald already see it coming.

Y/N turned and began to march over to him. Clenching her firsts as she walked past the groups of men. Liebgott nudged Buck and pointed at the woman. The look of anger yet her eyes laced with worry got their attention. But seeing her march towards Spiers, that is what scared them the most. No one even dared to stare that man in the eyes of that man. Yet there she went, the look of fury within her. They watched for the show as they went to reach out to stop her, but they couldn’t think of which one they feared more. An angry female medic, or a murder crazed paratrooper officer. They just wanted to wait and see.

“Ronald Speirs!” she yelled. The officer turned around with questioning eyes. But they softened slightly as he saw her. But when he saw the anger on her features, he narrowed his eyes at her. Y/N took her helmet off her head and shoved it into his chest. “Are you an absolute idiot?!” Y/N yelled. Leaving the rest of the men within Easy to have their eyes bulge out of their heads. Ronald was just as shocked in all honesty. Not only was he not used to the other men talking to him like that. Coming from his wife, it was a shock. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed! And what would I do? I would be stuck in this war alone!” she yelled into his face. Pressing her pointer finger into his chest. Now the men were confused. What was she going on about?

“Come on, Y/N. I had to do it,” he tried to say to defend himself. His voice wasn’t as harsh as normal. He looked down at the woman and reached to place a fond hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t even try to touch me right now, Ronald! I’m so mad at you right now! You had me scared half to death on that field. I didn't even pray and I sat on the field while patching up a trooper, muttering prayers. What would I have done if you got shot? I would half to patch you up and do you understand how terrifying that is for me?! We are fucking married you asshole! And it seems like you don’t care sometimes! Even if it is a good hunk of cash, I don’t want that ten thousand dollars if you die!” she yelled. The men of Easy had their mouths hanging open as Ronald was finally left speechless for once in his military career. Staring down at her woman as her chest heaved up and down. But when she realized what she had actually said, the blush from the cold on her face changed to the blush of feeling embarrassed. She just spat out their secret. “I.. I’m sorry,” she said. But in a few moments, Ronald snagged her waist and yanked her forward. Planting his lips onto hers. Y/N raised her hands in shock as her eyes opened wide.

Ronald pulled away as he smiled softly at how shocked Y/N was. Liebgott and Toye looked at each other while Perconte and Luz sat there in shock. Small smiles coming to their faces as the company bursts out into cheer. Winters and Nixon standing in front of all of them chuckling.

The group approached Y/N as she kept her face to the side to hide the blush. “So when the hell were you going to tell us this? How long have you all been together? Married even!” Gaurnere said with a smile yet shocked looked in his eyes. Y/N held her left hand up to show the silver band on her ring finger. He didn’t show it, but Ronald had the same band on his right hand. He had stolen them when scuffling through some town. They fit perfectly onto their fingers and it was just them with each other.

“Three years. We started dating in the middle of Toccoa. Got married about a year ago,” she said softly. Dropping her hand to the side of her as she scratched the back of the neck with the other. A small, yet shy smile on her lips. “So I guess the cat is out of the bag,” she said softly, a chuckle following out soon after. Chewing on her bottom lip as Ronald draped an arm across her shoulders and stared down at all the boys.

“Yeah. That means if I see any of you soldiers flirting with my wife, I’ll have your heads. Now scram. You guys have jobs to do,” he told them. The men piped up with a “Yes, sir” then ran off. Laughing and joking in shock. Y/N smiled at Ronald and pulled away softly.

“As much as I would love and be your wife, we would have to wait till later on. I have duties along as you do too,” she said softly. Standing on the toes of her boots to press a soft kiss on his cheek with her chapped lips. Ronald smiled softly and nodded. Handing her helmet back to her. “I will see you later on, Captain,” she said with a soft smile. Turning around and walking off towards Roe. Placing her helmet back onto her head as she walked. Y/N always walked with pride. Her head held high. Even if she never noticed it, Ronald always noticed it. And it always made him fall even harder for her.

Nixon approached his fellow officer. Patting his shoulder softly. Captain Speirs turned around to look at the man. “So Mr.Speirs, it seems you are soft for your wife after all. I mean, letting her talk to you like that and all,” he teased. The officer just grunted and shoved his hand off of his shoulder. Furrowing his eyebrows as he could feel his blush crawl up onto his cheeks.

“Aw shut it, would you, Nixon? Why don’t you search for alcohol somewhere, you drunk,” he huffed. Only to have Nicon stifle a laugh in return. Nixon looked at Ronald’s back and turned. Going to walk towards their new main headquarters within the town of Foy.

“Whatever you say, Speirs,” he said walking into the distance. Waving him off as he walked. Ronald just grunted again and ignored the man. But his eyes went to look back at the female in the distance. She was already carrying crates between helping Paratroopers that came to her with problems. He smiled softly as he looked down at his ring. Then back up at his woman. She was having Roe place a bandage on the slice she had on her cheek. He didn’t feel jealous. He didn't feel anything negative. He found himself smiling at his wife. The woman he loved oh so dearly. He was never happier and he never regretted this decision. Not once, and he never will. And in that moment he promised himself. When this shithole of a war was over, he would give her the wedding she deserved for all her hard work. The biggest and best house man could create to keep her warm and safe. And all the kids she would ever want. He found his person. And Y/N was an angel walking on this Earth to him. Ronald would never let her go. He was going to keep her safe. She changed his way of thinking deep down. Ronald would worship the ground his little medic walked on. And it was only for her. No one else. No more, no less.

He was hers. And Y/N knew that. No doubt about it. Anyone who has seen her smile has known perfection. She instills grace in every common thing and divinity in every careless gesture. And Ronald knew he was graced to be the cause of that smile, that he would get to see her smile every day. It meant more to him than anything. He would live for her. He would die for her. He was in love with her. He breathed her essence. And that’s all he wanted for the rest of his life. And as did Y/N. They were made for each other. Their hearts beat the same. Their mind’s were opposite, but that’s what conjoined them.

Y/N and Ronald Speirs were the definition of soulmates. Their lives would be spent together. Never apart. They were the flames that kept each other going and moving. They would be together to the end. No doubt about it.

#band of brothers imagine #band of brothers memes #band of brothers headcanon #band of brothers meme #band of brothers #ronald speirs #ron speirs #ronald speirs imagine #hbo #hbo war #hbo mini series #hbo war imagines #HBO Series #hbo imagine

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

Text

CALI COAST.

Filip “Chibs” Telford x Reader

Anon asked: Hiya, love your writing!! I’d like to request a chibs Imagine about a him falling for a female mechanic at TM. Thank you 😊

Word Count: 3.6k

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford 💘

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. Gif credits to the author.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

Driving the car crane, carrying a blue sedan that you were trying to seize for three days, but the owner was such a dickhead till he finally pissed you off and you had to point him with a gun. Tig told you to do it, even if you've never fired one. His face was worth the risk of being reprimanded by Hale. Danny claps at you, when getting off of the crane, you point your new acquisition with both hands and a huge smile on the corner of your lips.

“Tada!” You say with a melodic voice, jumping one time.

“Good job, rookie”. He says urging you to high-five, giving you the ‘seized’ sticker.

Very proud of your work, you take it to stick it on the front glass, crossing your arms after it to admire your piece of art.

“Ok, let's pull down this big guy”. Danny palms your back, ready to drop the tow and park the car with the rest.

“Ya’, man, who's that lass?” Chibs steps slow down, some meters away from you, hitting Tig's chest with his palm, actually hurting him.

“What the fuck?!” He yells rubbing himself over the kutt.

“She's (Y/N), the new Teller-Morrow mechanic”. Happy comes from nowhere, scaring both men, with no gesture in his face. “She's like a Pop Tart. Sweet and crunchy”.

“Did you already fuck her?” Tig sighs staring at him.

“No”.

“Then, how 'you know she's crunchy?”

“She broke Juice's nose yesterday”.

The men break in laughter, now understanding why his face looks like shit.

“Wha' happened?” Chibs tries to talk, starting to cough because of the loud laughs.

“She just got scared, 'cause he was behind her in silence”. Happy turns at them, narrowing on of his shoulder, making a move with his head to follow him.

The SOA president has been out of Charming for two weeks, taking care of the gun's business at southern Cali. For you, he was just traveling. The guys talked about him a lot in his absence of the club and you were pretty excited to meet him. At least, he's also your boss. So, when Tig shouts your new nickname making you turn, you go immediately with the same smile on your face.

“What's'ap, boss?” You say placing your hands behind your back, covered by the green jumpsuit of the workshop.

“The president”. He says pushing the man into you, with a singsong voice, making the scottish clicks his tongue.

“Just Chibs”. He adds, offering you a hand in somewhat formal greeting.

“Finally!” You say excited narrowing it, actually feeling a little nervous. “I'm (Y/N), but they call me ‘rookie’”.

“Rooke'”?

“Yeah, like a prospect for the club”. You explain then, getting back your hand with the own other.

“And she likes whisky”. Happy puts a forearm on one of the president's shoulder, taking off the toothbrush of his lips.

“Really? Ya' wan' one? So ya' can tell me where did ya' come from”. The man offers then, turning an arm to the club entrance, and you obviously can't say ‘no’ even if it's ten am and you just finished the first coffee of the day. You nod in silence.

Tig and Happy continue their way to the workshop, whilst you're walking by the scottish side with the nerves running through your whole anatomy. Everybody knows the Sons of Anarchy, everybody knows what they do even if they didn't see it. You know you don't have to be afraid, nor scared, but you can't help feeling it anyway. In a gentle gesture, the president holds the door for you, smiling slightly coming in. The club is empty, not even music is being played and it's kinda strange. Maybe they prepared before this meeting, so no one could bother you.

Even if you have been working for the last two weeks, if Filip decides to fire you 'cause you're not what he was looking for Teller-Morrow, he can do it without needing the support of anyone. You like your job and they pay you quite well, having a very flexible schedule, and treating you like another one of the family. So losing it, it's not an option.

You can see the man turning around towards the bar, grabbing two glasses to serve a whisky from an old bottle. You can recognize it. An special edition of Blue Label of Johnnie Walker. You have never tasted before, but you heard about it. Honey and vanilla are the first nuances you can taste having a sip. Chibs is staring at you with a raised eyebrow, waiting for an opinion. Snapping

“It's sweet, but bitter because of the citrics”.

“Dammet', lass!” He yells excited, hitting the bar, provoking you a chill. “Its true ya' like wheske'”.

“Yea', I... do”. You nod with pursed lips, seeing him walk towards the sofa.

Sitting there, you doubt for a second carrying a chair next to him and leaving your drink on the table, looking around for a second expecting what he wants to know.

“So tel'me. Where 'ya from, where ya' worken'... All thes' thengs'”. Chibs finally says, placing his whisky above the table, leaning towards you with his forearm supported on his lap.

“I'm from Los Angeles, my father had a workshop too, so it's family business”. You explain yourself, not sure what more you can say about your life. “When he died thr—”.

“'Am sorre'bout that”. The president holds your right hand for a while, narrowing it.

“Yea', life's things, I guess”. His touch is firm, looking at both hands sideway, before continue. “Well, ah... It was three years ago. He left me the workshop, but I was alone and I couldn't do it without help, so I had to sell it. I was working with my uncle, till I decided to move on. And... a friend told me about yours and I said... Why not? So, here I am”.

“Hm...” Chibs nods thoughtful resting his back on the sofa, moving his gaze from one side to another in nowhere.

“Listen, ah... I know it took me three days to seize that sedan, and I have no excuses, but I really like this job. I mean, work here”. You look desperate licking your lips and gesticulating more than necessary, not trying to give pity, but asking for another chance.

“Relax, rooke', I'm not gonna keck'yar ass”. His loud laughter, shaking his chin, infects you chuckling. Not sure if because you want, or because you're doing it to please him. “The bike in the backyard, is yars'?”

“It was my father's. He used to run Cali with it, till he couldn't do it anymore. But it's not working. I have to fix it”.

“You wan'me to help ye'?”

The question takes you by surprise, twisting your neck as a dog would do when he's confused. Until now, you have been doing it by yourself, even though you can take her to a workshop and not worry about it. But someone offering himself to help you it's something new. Not actually ‘someone’, but the Sons of Anarchy president. And your boss.

“Yes, yes... I mean, sure. If you have time”.

“Aye! 'Course, lass. Wha' ya' have is a fuckin' gem! Wha'bout tonigh'?”

You don't say anything, but it sounds like a date. And it doesn't surprised you by the way he had to greeting you, when you two met minutes ago. His fingers were a little shaky and you can swear that even his hand was somewhat sweaty. Finally, you nod before he could start to think that you're kinda dumb, having a sip of your whiskey.

“Ya ken'? I had one simila' when I was younga'”. He comments, seeming like the man wants to continue your talk, but doesn't knows how to do it. “I toured Scotlan' whet'et'”.

“I've never been there, but I saw it in photographs. It's an amazing country”.

“Aye! Et'e—

Some yells outside call your attention, and you recognize the voice by heart, 'cause you have been hearing it for the last three days. Rolling your eyes and getting up, down by the scottish's gaze following you, you walk towards the workshop with a serious gesture on your face and your arms crossed above your chest. The sedan' owner is there, with Hale by his side. You're fucked.

“She was! She was!” The blonde man is pointing at you accusatory, seeing how the sheriff rubs his eyes. “That bitch pointed me with a gun!”

“Did you?” Hale asks you with a hand resting in the butt of his own gun, hanging from his belt, and the other hanging by a side of his body.

“No, sir. I did—”.

“You, fucking liar!” The man practically jumps to you, being blocked by the SOA president, hitting him straight to his face.

Everything goes so fast that you can't even react. But the scottish is putting you behind his body, after punch the sedan' owner, with a hand thrown back slightly touching your abdomen. Hale is handcuffing him, growling and cursing at you lying on the ground by the sheriff.

“If you say anything else, I'm gonna accuse you of obstruction, do you hear me?” The cop says putting him down, starting to walk next to the car so his co-worker can sit him inside the car. “Do you want to file a complaint?”

This time is coming back towards you, with a sigh on his lips rolling his eyes. You shake your head, hiding out from Chib's back, frowning at the blonde man.

“Don' worry, sir, it's ok”. You say then.

“Tel'im fi' me that he won't get his car back”.

And without saying anything else, he turns at you placing an arm on your shoulders to urge you start to walking back to the workshop.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

When your turn is already finish, you drive back home the enough time to have a shower and changing your clothes for something more comfy taking into account the plan you are going to have. You're also trying to not think that it's a date, even if it was like it sounded. And you can't help but feeling nervous parking by a side of the yard, frowning missed when you notice the fact that there's only a bike. So, your suspicions get confirmed. Actually it's not something that bothers you, after all you've heard about him. Loyalty, strength, sincerity, self-confidence, kind and polite. And an accent pretty funny. So, why not?

“Wha' ya' thenken'?” Chibs comes from nowhere, scaring you and making you scream.

The man starts to laugh loud, while your face becomes rude with pursed lips and a hand on your chest trying to calm your heart beat.

“Jesus Christ...”

“Dammet, rooke', it's true ya're ease' to scare!” You sigh rolling your eyes because of his words. “Com'ere, I've alrede' brought yar' bike”.

“DaMmEt, RoOkE”. You joke on him with a high-pitched tone, whilst he's laughing louder.

“Ya' amaze me, lassie. Dinnae' know you talk scottesh'”.

“What the...?” You find yourself laughing too in a relaxed way after a long time, shaking your head with a sigh, going to the workshop illuminated by some lights.

Turning over your steps you notice that the place is practically empty, guessing that Juice took off all the cars by Chibs' petition, playing fool when you find with your gaze two cardboard boxes from your favorite burger joint. Hiding your curiosity and moving your feet next to the old Harley Davidson, you let your fingers travel over the metallic handlebar. Memories crowd your head, one on top of the other, until you collapse. You still haven't driven it, because your father kept it for almost eight years on his garage, till he left. And it doesn't need a lot of fixes, but you haven't been able to get started before. You couldn't, 'cause it's the only thing you have of him.

“When was the... fers' time ya' ride't?”

Turning to the man, finding him supporting his back against the wall with a big cup of coke in his left hand, sipping from the straw. You shrugs your shoulders, taking the other drink to imitate him with your gaze on the matt black motorbike.

“I didn', yet. Alone, I mean... But by my father's back”. You say almost in a whisper. “I was five years old. We toured Cali coast”.

“Cali coast amaze me, et's a good ferst' ride”. He says then, after some seconds in silence. “Ded'ya by night?”

“Dawn, actually”. You answer with a goofy smile on your lips and your eyes on the drink between your hands, playing with the straw. “I... remember that... my father came to my room, to wake me up saying ‘let's go, bunny, adventure time’! He was very excited”.

It's the first time in years that you're talking about him and Chibs looks pretty curious about it, but you're trying not to break your voice. Smiling sideways, you stare at the scottish man, shrugging your shoulders again, not knowing how continue.

“Why ‘bunny’?”

“I like velocity”.

“Oh, realle'? Wha' bike ded'ya have before et'?”

Your cheeks turning red and your lips pursuing second by second, containing a laugh, makes him raises both eyebrows with curiosity.

“A Vespa...?” You mutters biting the straw, while Chibs laughs again. You're starting to love his laugh, no regrets. “Ah, ah, but...! I have a Mustang, so, boom!”

Your left hand imitates the typical gesture of dropping a mic, getting up from the wall to walk towards the food with innocent air, opening one of the bags with your forefinger and having a quickly look.

“Ya'hungre?” He asks then, following your steps to grab boths bags, twisting his neck in a soft gesture to tell you without words about to have a seat.

So you do, on one of the cair placed on the front yard, next to a corner.

“So, what et' needs?”

“Brakes. I need to change them. Now it has ones that are obsolete and I was thinking to put an ABS”. Leaving your drink between your feet, you take the burger Chibs is offering you to unwrap it on your lap.

“Sounds good. Do ya' have them?”

“Yea', I bought them in LA. And I think could be good change the tires, the oil and the handlebar grips, they're a little worn”.

“Tha's'ease fo' ya'”.

“Yeah, but... I didn't want to fix it, actually?”

“Why?”

“I'm scared to have an accident or something, and destroy it. I don' have anything of my father, but his bike”. Having a bite with your gaze on him, you cover your mouth to keep talking. “So, I just... was telling... myself that I didn't have time... to fix it”.

“But we're gonna do 'et!” Chibs exclaim excitedly, opening his arms for a second and holding the burger and the beer in each hand. “I know yar' father prefers to fac'ap his bike, than keep'et in a garage with dust on 'et”.

“Yea', I think so...”.

━━━━━━ ﹅ ━━━━━━

First, knocks on your door. Then your bell ringing. Palming the mattress till you find your phone to watch the clock, you read all the notifications in the locked screen. There are almost eleven lost calls from Chibs and a lot of messages. And it in silence. You practically jump off of your bed, running as never before to the main door, opening it.

“Finally! Jesus Christ, I thought ya' were dead!”

“What happened? It's everything ok? Sorry, I just fell asleep an—”. You're talking so fast that your tongue ends up making a mess.

Chibs enraptured looking at you from top to down with a goofy smile on his lips, very interested in the Black Sabbath' shirt you're wearing. Clearing his throat, while your gaze travels to the dark van parked in front of your house. Tig and Juice are taking off of it your motorbike. Pushing him away from you, with your left hand on his chest, you take some steps barefoot above the cesped. You're face shows surprise and confusion, believing for a while that you're dreaming or something like that.

One of his hands wrap your left wrist, urging you to look at him. You're legs shaking for a second.

“Ya're prette' with messy hair and tha' shirt, but I wanna ride with ya'”. He says then, trying to hide his excitement.

And you want to hide yours, but you can't. You hug him, but not with a normal one. You're rousing and thankful, surrounding his neck with yours arms leaning on your toes. You know he wasn't expecting by the “oh” he mutters kinda surprised, taking some seconds till he finally is able to wrap your back and your waist pushing you closer into him, resting his forehead on your shoulder. Then, Chibs understands why Happy said like you're like a Pop Tart. He knows it tooks you just one second to make him fall in love with you and that the fact of worrying about your favorite take away restaurant, it wasn't only 'cause you're ‘the rookie’.

The scottish have a deep breathe from your hair, starting to wish he hadn't, because he's falling a little more. And he can't watch his mouth.

“Ya' smell really good”. He tells you with a husky tone on his voice that bristles the skin of your arms.

“Honey and vanilla”. You mutter with pursed lips, before the man making you a gesture to come in your house.

You nod in a hurry, running back to your room looking for the perfect clothes to drive. A comfy pair of jeans, a vaporous shirt, your boots and a leather jacket. Keeping your principal stuff in a bag and grabbing your helmet, you walk towards the main door sooner as you can. The van isn't there anymore but your bike and Chib's one, close to yours, are parked on the sidewalk. He's already waiting sitting on his, turning on the engine when you're wearing the black helmet before keep the bag under the seat, the scottish stares at you with a hug smile and a dearly gesture on his face.

It has been eight years since you heard your father's Harley roaring, and feeling how your body vibrates on it it's simply amazing. You can't even describe how you feel right now, looking at Chibs with that gesture mixing incredulity and surprise. Pressing the brake, but also the gas, the back wheel squeaks without caring if you wake up your neighbors.

“Let's go, lass!”

You release the brake, letting your motorbike rolls above the road with a hoarse growl flying off from the engine, being followed by the scottish. He didn't tell you where you're going, but after five days talking about your childhood in Cali, it's pretty clear that he wants to ride the coast with you after seeing the emotions that provokes you the memories doing it with your father. You know well he wants to be part of it, part of your routine and part of your life. And you're letting him come in 'cause, why not?

You know the road by heart, touring it with the fresh dawn's air hitting your face, till it turns with a salty smell after some hours driving in silence, enjoying the landscape views. You're closer to the ocean and you can feel it inside your lungs, closing your eyes for second. Time enough to make you fly back to your childhood. The sound of the engine, the seagull, the waves breaking. Everything is the same as you remember. But you're not a child anymore, you're ridding California with Filip Telford by your side, who can say that? Only you. And it's not because who he is, but because of who you want him to be for you.

It's sunrising. In the horizon, the sky is mixed with blue, orange and soft pink. It's your favorite part of the day, but now it's different. You're /living/ it, breathing it, enjoying it totally relaxed as never before, with Chibs' eyes on you for a ephemeral instant, fully spellbound. And that's what makes it special this time.

“Don'ya thenk' it's time fo' a coffee?” He asks loud enough for you to hear him. You nod laughing, 'cause you really need it after sleeping for just four hours.

Some mills away, you finally stop in a rest area on top of a small cliff. Taking off your helmet, you walk towards the wooden railings looking down. You're too close of the sea that almost some salty drops splash your face interspersed with the sea breeze. You couldn't get tired of a place like that. The smell of hot coffee pushes you into reality, turning to Chibs so you can hold the metallic mug.

“Maybe I put some Cardhu in'et”.

“Maybe?” You break in laugh, leaning your nose over it.

“When I say ‘maybe’, et's because I alrede' ded'et”.

“So... the other night, at the workshop, maybe it was a date?”

“Maybe”. He nods, blowing his drink, before taking a drink. “Maybe that's the second one”.

“Maybe you already won me, fixing my bike and bringing me here”. Giving him your most smooth smile, you drink too, turning to the ocean while he puts an arm on your shoulders letting you rest your cheek on his. “Maybe you put a lot of Cardhu”.

“Yea', maybe”.

#sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy x reader #chibs x reader #chibs telford #chibs telford x reader #chibs telford imagine #filip telford x reader #filip telford #filip chibs telford #filip chibs telford x reader

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emiefaunwrites · 3 years

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helloooo, it's that one anon again with another song request/challenge thing. same prompt as my last ask but with the sing grow as we go by ben platt, please? also a random question: what are your thoughts on listening to classical music or like music that doesn't have words?

Hello again! Sorry it’s taken so long with this one - I wasn’t on my laptop at all yesterday and only had one or two chances to listen to the song and I wanted to do a good job!

I’ll answer your random question first before I go into what I wrote. The short answer is yes, I listen to classical/wordless music. I like a song to tell me a story as I listen to it and I have a few wordless songs in my D&D playlist for my OC. So long as I feel an emotion when I listen to a song, I don’t really mind if it has words or not!

And now for Grow As We Go. Well. This is a song, huh? It’s so freaking lovely! Another one I would never have thought to listen to without you, anon, and has made it into both my D&D playlist and my Broken Arrow playlist (yes, songs go into multiple playlists for me!)

So with this, I could have made it heartbreaking because the song is quite sad. But I decided against it and went with something more...uplifting, I guess? And yeah, I went nearly 2K (I just can’t do snippets I’m so sorry...) and I stuck with Ishileon for this because I could imagine Leon singing it to Taka. And this has taken me 4 hours to write...non stop. Haaaa...

I hope you like this, and please do send me more and more songs. I LOVE this challenge and find it so interesting to write this way.

The cool evening air wisps around Kiyotaka as he looks out over the horizon. Here, above what seems like the rest of the world, he has never felt more at ease. Never felt more comfortable in a place he never thought he would ever wind up. Because in every vision he ever had of his future, he never saw himself in the American wilderness.

He had always had a plan; get himself through school, then college, then university. Get himself into politics. Build up his reputation and popularity. Show the world that the Ishimaru’s are not the monsters that they’ve been portrayed to be and become the best Prime Minister that Japan has ever seen.

For the longest of times, Kiyotaka was fully invested in this plan. The backlash of his grandfather’s downfall has weighed heavily on his parents for as long as he can remember. Their name dragged through the mud, the innocent victims of merciless mockery, working round the clock as a policeman or a midwife just to make ends meet and do what’s best for their son.

So of course, he wanted to give back to them. He promised, back at the tender age of six when he heard his mother crying one night after Prime Minister Ishimaru fell from glory, that he would do what his grandfather could not. He stomped down the stairs and shocked his parents with the announcement, giving up any chance at a normal childhood right there and then.

And it was worth it. He made sure it was worth it. Sure, he had no friends. Sure, he was bullied relentlessly. Sure, he came home battered and bruised a few times a month. But it was worth it because he knew that he would be his family’s saviour in the end.

But things started to change when he started Hope’s Peak.

It wasn’t a big change. Not at first. It started off with friendships. With Mondo and Chihiro, Makoto and Hina, Hiro and Hifumi. People who seemed to see past his name, past his constructed personality, and tap into the real boy. And he found himself having fun for the first time in nearly a lifetime.

And then Leon Kuwata entered his life.

He’d always been on the side-lines, a constant background noise that Kiyotaka admittedly gave very little attention. For the first year and a half of being his classmate, Leon spent his time chasing girls and living it large. Kiyotaka would often head to get himself a glass of water in the night only to see the boy be carried back to his room, blind drunk in the arms of Hiro or Mondo or whatever upperclassman he happened to befriend that day. He seemed to have no regards for his education, his health, or anything whatsoever and that irritated Kiyotaka beyond belief.

It wasn’t until Kiyotaka stumbled across the boy in the toilets one lunchtime, huddled into the furthest stall and crying into his arms, that the real changes started. For the first time, he saw the redhead for who he truly was; a frightened young boy that had built a reputation for himself that was becoming harder and harder to maintain. And Kiyotaka had just happened to stumble on what was one of many moments of weakness that had plagued the boy ever since he set foot in this school.

The two became inseparable in a matter of weeks. Kiyotaka vowed to be Leon’s confidante whilst Leon promised to calm himself down and start taking his life seriously. And he did really well. It was inevitably that he would slip up every now and again because old habits are hard to break. But Kiyotaka would never judge him, would never scold him; only hold him close as he sobbed and promised it would never happen again.

Their first kiss wasn’t exactly planned. Nor was it the most appropriate, Kiyotaka has to admit to himself when he looks back at it. Leon had relapsed after a rough day and gotten blind drunk, calling Kiyotaka in a panic when his senses kicked in, sobbing in his arms and begging his forgiveness. And as normal, Kiyotaka had held him, offered gentle words of comfort, running his fingers through the boy’s hair.

And then he kissed him.

He would like to blame it on the way the moonlight hit Leon’s flushed cheeks that evening. Or maybe how his eyes sparkled like glitter as he finally stared up at him with a wet smile. He’d also like to think that Leon made the first move; that when he leant forward to nuzzle against his nose it was a silent invitation. But in all honesty, none of those were to blame. Kiyotaka had already fallen for Leon long before that night and even though the boy had melted into his embrace the second their lips met, Kiyotaka knew that he had completely taken advantage of his drunkenness and acted on his own accord.

The I like you that followed was disregarded as intoxication. Kiyotaka made sure he stored that away in a locked box in his heart, never to reopen. Although a few days later, it was smashed into pieces as Leon initiated the follow up kiss halfway through their study session and out of seemingly nowhere. Red cheeks and flustered apologies, a heart-to-heart and more I like you’s. And then a promise never to let go followed by soft touches and passionate kisses.

And they didn’t. They stuck together through school and graduation, through college and graduation, through the application to university to study politics. Leon stood by him every step of the way; as his biggest cheerleader, his shoulder to cry on when things got tough, with unconditional love and a heart of gold. They were happy, happier than they’d ever been, and would have been content carrying on as they were for the rest of their lives.

But it was Kiyotaka who changed.

Sat in his politic lecture one afternoon, something shifted in Kiyotaka’s mind. As he stared at the words on the screen and listened to the droning voice of his tutor, Kiyotaka realised that this wasn’t what he wanted. The plan that he’d followed for his entire life, the one that would restore his family name, crumbled in front of him like chalk into dust. And all that was left was a hole of uncertainty and endless possibilities.

He wonders to this day if he should have told his father first. After his mother had passed away, his father had put his everything into supporting Kiyotaka’s dream. So surely he should have been the first to know that things had changed. And there are days, nights when he’s lying awake and staring at the sky, where he feels a small twinge of regret at not telling him. Because he thinks that if he had, things might be different.

But those days are few and far between.

It was Leon he told first. The second the lesson was over, he went straight over to their shared apartment and told him straight: I don’t want this anymore. Politics, education, the little apartment they rented so close to the university. It all felt so wrong all in the space of a split second at 2.48pm on Thursday 3rd April.

And he needed to go. Where? He didn’t know. To do what? Also a mystery. But he just knew that he need to get away from it all and that everything needed to change.

He expected Leon to cry. To beg him to stay, tell him to reconsider giving up his dream and to stop and think just for a moment. But he didn’t. Instead he took hold of his hands and said the five most beautiful words Kiyotaka has ever heard:

Then we’ll do it together.

It wasn’t easy. Dropping out of university was harder than Kiyotaka could have ever expected. He had to give back all the fees he owed, chipping into Leon’s hard-earned income to bail them out of tough situations. There were highs and there were lows, months of living on cold beans and bread. But they made it through together.

And then Leon suggested they go to America.

As Kiyotaka was still unemployed and Leon’s salary was barely keeping them afloat, the idea was ludicrous. They were constantly rescued financially by their families, who surprisingly supported Kiyotaka’s decision to change his entire life, so how could they possibly go travelling in their position? But neither boy could deny the alluring call of a fresh start. Soul searching, Leon called it. And Kiyotaka fell for it hook, line and sinker.

After a year and a half of research, of doing odd jobs here and there to raise enough money, of buying all the gear they could possibly need, of working out and getting in shape, they knew where they were going. The Appalachian Trail; the longest trail in the world. Five to seven months of travel if they wanted to do it all in one go. And they did want to do it all in one go.

So, after getting the blessing of their families, they quit their jobs and headed off. Jetted halfway across the world with no one but each other. And they never looked back.

It’s been hard, Kiyotaka muses to himself as he gazes out at the breathtaking sights around him. Because as beautiful as the trail is, it’s also brutal. They’ve spent a lot of nights cold and hungry after misjudging how far the next campsite is. They’ve slept in poor conditions in a tent that they’ve had to replace a couple of times. They’ve stumbled across the local wildlife; sometimes a little closer to them than they felt comfortable. And they’ve had to ask their families to help them out with their finances on more occasions that either of them would have liked.

But as the night falls around them, as the orange hue of the sunset dims and the blanket of midnight blue drapes over the sky, as his gaze lands on the back of the boy in front of him, Kiyotaka knows he wouldn’t change this for the world. They’ve seen things that they never would have done back in Japan. They’ve met people from all over the world, learned valuable skills that would have been useless in their old life. They’ve done so much that Kiyotaka never thought he could ever have done and impressed himself on so many different occasions in so many different ways.

And it’s all because of Leon.

Stood on the edge of a cliff, the boy has no idea that Kiyotaka’s eyes trail down his body; outlining his relaxed posture to etch this moment permanently into his memory. His hair has grown out and only the tips are red now; the natural brunette strands pulled back into a messy pony tail. The small beard he once supported now long gone and replaced by dark stubble; caked with dirt and grime from the tiring day they’ve just had. The muscles he has always had are larger now; more toned and pronounced even when he doesn’t try.

Leon Kuwata is not the boy he fell in love with anymore. That’s undeniable given how much he’s changed. But as Kiyotaka wraps his arms around him, breathing in the scent of sweat and dirt that has become his favourite smell in the world, he knows he would give everything for the man who leans back into his touch.

“You okay, baby?”

“Hmm.”

“Ready for tomorrow?”

Who knows what tomorrow will bring? Nothing is written in the stars, nothing is set in stone. That’s what his life always used to look like; unbending, unchanging and terribly lonely. But as Kiyotaka smiles into Leon’s neck, as he presses a kiss onto the flesh and his fingers slip against the palm of his lover, he has never felt more comfortable with the unknown. Because at the end of the day…

“So long as you’re with me, I’m ready for anything.”

#kiyotaka ishimaru #leon kuwata #ishileon #danganronpa #song fic request #ask request

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