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springofstarlight · 3 months

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Faerûnian 29 days Writing Challenge

3.🖊️ [NSFW] - 𝓑𝓸𝓭𝔂 𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓹

To Neilarion, Meidhreach is perfect and yet there is so much more to the man than what he allows the world to see, perhaps more than even Meidhreach knows himself.

Tav/Tav [With Nel belonging to Phant0mTomorrow on twt]

Neilarion/Meidhreach

#BG3FicFeb

Word count: 2.8k

Squidgeworld

“What’s this?” Neilarion broached the question cautiously, a hand hovering against the other man’s back as they sat there within Meidhreach’s tent, the low light flickering long shadows across their forms. The rain had broken suddenly, what had started as a pleasant evening sitting by the fire soon devolved into a quick retreat to the tents, and not wishing to end their conversation the pair had ended up bundling themselves within the tall archers sanctuary. That was impressive enough on its own, Meidhreach barely let anyone glance inside his tent, keeping it as a place for only himself… Neilarion was not one to boast, but he knew had been a growing understanding that he had been allowed closer to the reserved man than most; the sleekness of Meidhreach’s hair, the damp frayedness offered by the rain reminding him of that evening they had spent together washing Meidhreach’s hair by the river… His wound had healed now, and while there had been a request to spend such a time together again that evening, there hadn’t been a time either of them could sneak away without the rest of the camp noticing. Neilarion understood he had a closeness with the other that had not been offered to the other’s and yet that mask still remained firmly in place, those dull clouded eyes that blocked out the shine of true emotion, good or bad… and that polite smile that always seemed to be there no matter the situation… Meidhreach was a mystery, a beautiful bright conundrum that Neilarion was still attempting to figure out.

“Mh?” Meidhreach blinked for a moment as he turned across, peering to the area the other had been pointing to. His shirt had been peeled off like the skin of an animal, leathery and heavy with the sudden onslaught of rain, folded and ready to hang up outside once the rain stopped its assault. Neilarion kept his fingers just above the skin, not daring to touch without permission; he was slowly gaining more titbits of knowledge about the other man, collecting them like a determined magpie with shiny coins, holding them safe and turning them over them again and again in his head to try and gain an understanding of the beautiful mystery. One of those coins he had collected was the fact Meidhreach did not like to be touched, not without warning or permission. Neilarion had noted how the man flinched when his shoulder had been patted in greeting by Gale one morning, it was a minute movement, a flicker of a jerk that had been easily missed… but Neilarion noticed, he took that coin for himself, making sure to hold it in his pocket, to twirl it between his fingers so he would always remember… but it seemed more and more that rules didn’t apply to him, Meidhreach didn’t mind him being close, as demonstrated within that moment, the two of them sat upon Meidhreach’s bedroll attempting to get warm, almost huddled together… almost. Still, he would never merely assume that rule didn’t apply until it was explicitly said, or with a silent nod as it was offered then.

Neilarion ghosted his finger across the white mark, when he reserved a confused but accepting nod from the other. A thin line that spanned across the man’s lower back, multiple that arched across the spine like summer waves on a placid ocean. He was viciously intrigued, he hadn’t noticed the last time he had seen Meidhreach without his shirt, it had been too dark and he had been too focused on his care for the threads of long hair sleek within his hand. “They’re nothing special, just marks showing how I grew.” Meidhreach spoke softly, his voice lingering with the air as he sat up there; he tried to remain his usual self, but Neilarion could feel it, how the man shuddered at his touch, how those alluring but dull eyes flickered away as he spoke, unable to meet Neilarion’s own… Well, why would he? Meidhreach was so beautiful, yet he barely seemed to understand that. “...I grew rather quickly from a spindly boy to well-” He shrugged, eyes flickering back to the lean muscles of his arm and then back down. He wouldn’t say it, Neilarion frowned as his finger traced across the lines that trickling across the man’s back, some even peeking up from the waistband of his trousers; The break of textured skin, a story of how Meidhreach had grown from a boy to the lean archer he was in that moment.

Beautiful. Yet, the man barely understood that. And how blessed Neilarion was to be allowed the privilege to not just look upon such a thing, but touch… worship.

He couldn’t stand that downcast look upon the other, those grey clouds that hide away both the sun and the fury of the storm… Neilarion pushed away his hesitation, the unworthiness that stuck to his veins like a tar, making everything slow and heavy, and banished it for that moment because he knew he would not be able to live, not be able to look upon the dawn if Meidhreach truly did not understand just how wonderful he was. Hands reached up, clasping against the taller man’s cheeks which brought a startle, but soon an ease though those cyan eyes looked to him baffled and confused, there was no fear. “You don’t know how lovely you are, a beautiful flower who stands upon the shore, holding more secrets to you than the night sky, and yet offering us your blessing in brilliant light… you do not mean to shine, and yet you do… and there could be so much more, but you hold back.” Neilarion breathed slowly, offering his words soft yet true against the flicker of the candle, the low hiss of the rain that still flurried outside, pittering against the fabric of the tent and rolling heavy droplets down that weighed the canopy down in places. Meidhreach blinked slowly, he did not speak, he barely even breathed but his hand moved, placing upon the other’s at his own cheek… He hadn’t heard Neilarion speak so much at once, yet alone something so beautiful, and Meidhreach was unworthy to accept such tenderness. His eyes flickered down, unable to meet ones that offered such words, words that shattered when they met his ears and brought splinters to his skin, wedging themselves into the cracks that had slowly formed within the time he had known Neilarion and splitting them even further, allowing the caress of light from the man before him. “Let me show you?”

Meidhreach dragged his attention back, suddenly and sharply, that confusion growing again but as he looked to those eyes, his gaze softened, confusion could exist when there was those eyes, a kindness within them and a beauty Meidhreach felt undeserving of… surely Neilarion was merely confused, that he was the night sky. The night had always been a wondrous thing to Meidreach, it was plagued with his nightmares yes, but… it was a time he could allow those walls around him to crumble, for the steel beams that embedded his being to crack and rupture because there was noone around to see the dust and imperfections, no one who could become hurt or disgusted by such a thing… It was a time of comfort in the ashes, to hold himself for only himself and try and work out what exactly that meant… and maybe, just maybe he could find that same feeling within Neilarion.

“Alright.” It was the same permission granted when Meidhreach had offered him the sacred privilege of allowing him to wash his hair, Neilarion noted.

“Alright.” Neilarion repeated with a smile, the fingers that had traced across the silvery lines returning for a moment, following their path and attempting to learn their story, to recite their dedication that embedded within the man before him. The strong archer who held the storm within him, and yet to everyone around him was as kind as a spring day… all of him was so wonderful. “Lay down.” A daring move, but he nudged Meidhreach down lightly, so his front rested on the bedroll… and Meidhreach followed obediently, that confusion still palpable in his eyes, but even that was better than the usual monotonous blue which hid away what could be so bright. Confusion riddled his mind, creeping to the nape of his neck and bringing small hairs to a stand but trust in the other man’s actions weighed that all out as Meidhreach rested there, leaning his cheek against the cooled fabric of the pillow.

Laying there with muscles wrung tight with anticipation, he commanded himself not to look, to leave his trust in Neilarion’s hands because the man had never done him wrong before… but what caught him next sent such shivers down his spine, the caress of lips across his lower back, drifting and following the silvery lines that cut away across his skin. Neilarion felt himself smiling against the skin as he brought his nose across the old scar, one or two resting deeper than the rest but still so wonderful in the story they told; the rise and swell of the sea against his skin, written there for the private history of the select few who were allowed close enough to the moon to witness the breaks and cracks unto the surface that seemed so faultless from afar, and yet such things did not react from its beauty… had anyone been allowed close enough to the flower that now rested below him? The man who studied the constellations and would read them off by the fire as the two enjoyed an evening, a flicker of almost excitement within his eyes that Neilarion wished he could cling onto, to grasp it within his hands and collect it with those shiny coins so that whenever Meidhreach held that dull within him, Neilarion could remind him, could bring that glint back to his eyes. The man who understood everything around him so thoroughly… apart from himself.

“Every inch of your skin, every part of your soul is perfect to me.” Neilarion breathed tenderly against said skin, keeping his lips close and grazing against the tattered marks of Meidhreach’s back, with a voice Meidhreach had never heard from the usually taciturn man. It brought a flush to his cheeks deeper than the summer wines of home, more so than the hands themselves that kneaded and pressed against his skin with such reverence, as if he laid there as a prayer script or a story to be told with love and warmth in a way he had never felt before. Curving his face around to the dip of Meidhreach’s hips and resting his palm upon the lean structure. Neilarion smiled, pressing an individual kiss to each moonlit windrow that painted across the other man’s back… it was easier to kiss them, to offer them the kindness they deserved, the respect they had earnt being of such a man, they held his story and his might… it was easier to kiss them as he did not have to meet cyan eyes to do so. “You are the storm Meidhreach, in so many ways… and the storm is you, painted upon your skin and your soul.” The taste of salt that blessed his lips, the taste of him that now lingered at his lips proved it. “I’m honoured to look upon it, to stand upon the shore and just catch the ocean spray upon my face, to breath the burn of salt into my lungs, and watch the brilliance that is the dawn upon the water-” He would drown in it if Meidhreach wished, to replace the air within his lungs with the acrid waters, if it meant he could just experience the fury of the man before him, whatever remained caged behind those melancholy eyes. Neilarion felt the man’s shudders under him, the clench of a fist against the pillow as if he had just struck his blade through his chest, but then there was an ease, body falling slack, an almost acceptance of his words…. Almost.

Neilarion had to swallow down the vitriol that crept in his throat, not the burning of the salt of the sea but his own poison, his own awful crawling thoughts as he looked upon the form of the man below him. Lean shoulder blades displayed so brilliantly with how he laid upon the bed, those that drew the very bow that sat beside them now with such strength that the movement was graceful; the shine of his hair with that peculiar colour that meant Meidhreach was so easy to draw from a crowd, even for Neilarion’s faded eye. “... although I don’t truly deserve it.” He didn’t, not truly. He dipped his tongue, daring himself to trace across the lighting strikes that had settled themselves within the other’s skin. He still did not understand the mercy he had been granted that allow him so close to the other man, not just to touch like this but… to know, to understand him slowly, to collect all those coins until he was the richest man in all of Faerûn, and then he would merely trade it all just to remain close to the wonderful man.

Neilarion jerked, having to stop himself falling back as Meidhreach bolted suddenly under him, moving to hold his hands up in surrender and a reassurance that he wouldn’t do any more, that he knew he had pushed a line… idiot, but he paused, Meidhreach’s hand was wrapped firmly across one of his wrists and the look he gave. Gods. It shattered Neilarion’s heart, and yet in the same breath collected all the splinters with no concern if Meidhreach damaged his fingers, and put it back together; it was a grief-stricken glorious thing, the dreary grey day had finally broken and give way to a tempest in all its thunderous, sorrowful might. He met Neilarion’s eyes so surely that Neilarion felt his heart leap into his throat, humming so loudly he felt his pulse within his ears.

“Don’t.” The words caught in Meidhreach’s throat, squeezing those eyes shut and Neilarion hitched his breath prepared himself to brace the storm, to welcome the lashings of rain and ice, to feel them piece his skin until they brought their needles to his veins and clattered into his marrow… but then Meidhreach sighed, the breeze caught on the waves, and shook his head, the look thawing to something even more distraught, and all the more painful. “Please…. Don’t speak about yourself that way.” Meidhreach shook his head and the dark clouds passed to reveal a beautiful spring sunshower and the faintest tug at his lips, not that polite smile… but something real, imperfectly perfect with how it quivered ever so slightly, hesitation clawing at his words with deep burrowing fingers but, he breathed and attempted to fight it away.

"You are the night sky, if I am the storm. The place of comfort, where the stars are given permission to exist, to shine… even-” He breathed, a deep faint quiver clinging to his bones. “-even if they don't yet fully understand how to… they want to.” He chuckled weakly as he shook his head, ridiculous poetry from a man who stuck his nose so deep in the pages to avoid his reality. Neilarion no doubt thought him a fool, and so Meidhreach let his wrist finally go, returning his hands to his lap as he sat there, long hair pulled across his shoulder in his usual tie… he expected Neilarion to get up and leave, after all Meidhreach had ruined a kind moment, had he not? He looked away, unable to face him, only to be beckoned to a soft touch, a hand threading across his cheek and a thumb running across the deep scar that broke across his face. It was something so rarely acknowledged, most finding it easier to avert their gaze and ignore it… some offered him pitying glances, that was even worse. Meidhreach held his breath, peering up as the tender touch drifted across, brushing strands of his hair to tuck behind his ear; allowing the scar the little protection or concealment Meidhreach always attempted with the framing of his face. Neilarion leant in close, so close their noses almost touched, mixed breaths lingering on lips as Meidhreach felt the song within his blood, something always so muted and dilated but in that moment it was a tremendous chorus. Neilarion closed his eyes, almost feeling the pang of regret that he could no longer meet the cyan, but his smile remained as he pressed their foreheads together, noses brushing as he spoke, whispered words offered freely, to be held securely so Meidhreach could always have them when… if he needed them. “You are so lovely, and I will remind you until you learn… until you understand just how brilliantly you shine, my beautiful night orchid.”

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 tav #tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3ficfeb #bg3 oc #bg3

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bukojuiice · 3 years

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— genshin boys as your college roommates who are head over heels in love with you

ೃ ft. childe, diluc, kaeya, zhongli, and xiao x gn! reader

ೃ 400-600 words per character! ♡

ೃ warnings: mention of alcohol drinking ( but aside from that, just lots and lots of fluff!)

ೃ this is my very first writing contribution to the genshin fandom, so i hope everyone likes it! after 5 months of playing genshin, i think it’s safe to say my brainrot for it has finally consumed me and i’m confident enough to brew something up! <3

ೃ genshin impact masterlist

ೃ if you want to be a part of my taglist, answer this form! ♡

CHILDE:

– You and Childe are the perfect embodiment of the best friends to roommates trope. Whenever you wanna sleep in for 5 minutes more and you’re about to run late for your first class, Childe never fails to slowly drag you out of your bed, laughing as he does so. “Wake up sunshine!” is the first thing you always hear in the morning and you don’t complain if you get to hear his smexy voice anyway. He is a confident flirt and is not afraid to show you how much he cares or how much he pines over you.

– He’s always always there to save the day. There was a time when your classmates stood you up on the group project you were making, and guess who comes up to you with glitter, glue, and colored paper? Childe, of course! He stayed up until the wee hours of the night with you just so he can help you finish it. He even promises to set things in a “very civil way” with your absolute jerk groupmates the very next day. You practically hang out with him 24/7 as most of the time he just barges in your shared apartment with some amusement park tickets on hand or to some expensive yoga or judo class. There’s never a dull moment with him and with each passing day, the more you fall harder for him.

– After a morning jog with him and seeing cute little dogs frolicking around with their married owners, Childe suddenly had the urge to adopt a dog with you. But, due to a no pets rules established by the landlord, the two of you opt to owning hamsters instead! Childe named his hamster, narwhal (after his favorite animal of course!) whereas you named yours bunny, to match his irrelevant pet name picking. your hamsters both share the same house/cage and even they are pining over each other.

– His siblings visit a lot, especially Teucer. At this point, there was never a day the little boy didn’t ask when are you and Childe going to finally become “playground playmates” (a term for lovers that they use in second grade apparently) since the two of you are living with each other and seem so close. Childe is always able to successfully change the topic and shift away from talking about the shared feelings that the both of you have for each other. But, alas, the day had finally came to be and during your monthly trip to the amusement park, Childe confidently confesses to you on top of the ferris wheel.

“So... everyone in my life knows that you’re my best friend. Yea, that’s pretty cool and all but... Can we be more than just that (Y/N)? Is there hope if I think there could be something between us?”

DILUC:

– Diluc is your posh and rich roommate who sounds and looks too good to be true. The fact that you’re roomies with the literal heir to the country’s biggest wine and beverage company sounds like something straight out of a fanfic. But, it was of his volition to decide to live in a penthouse near Teyvat University. It was the doings of his step-brother Kaeya who tricked him into getting a roommate so that he won’t be alone for the rest of his college years... aaand that’s where you come in. practically barged into his life, but, you were a blessing. an angel sent from the skies.

– He’s quite cold and unapproachable at first, only greeting you whenever he sees you but never bothered to engage in small talk with you. Even if the both of you go to the same university. It wasn’t until your second month as roommates, when you accidentally had too much to drink after a friends’ night out. You come home to see him in the living room, drinking grape juice from a wine glass, and watching a rerun of Hannah Montana. You practically collapse at the front door, he rushes to you and helps you up as you drunkenly confess to him in tears how you wanted to become much closer to him especially since the two of you are going to spend the rest of your college years together. That was when Diluc realized how distant and aloof he’s been and vows to make it up to you.

– Diluc is very talented. Albeit in very discreet way, he makes sure to make use of his talents especially if it’s an opportunity to make memories with you. He is an amazing cook as much as he tries to deny it, He’s a secret virtuoso caught in 4k when you impulsively bought a guitar one time and you asked if he knows how to play, and he does so well. He practically serenades you in the most non-obvious way possible. Lastly, He’s very athletic. You invited him to play tennis one time, betting that if he won, you would do his bidding for the rest of the week. Before you could even blink, he wins. His “punishment” for you was that you accompany him in binge-watching TV Dramas. Grey’s Anatomy and Downtown Abby are just some of the shows the two of you would watch. It is absolutely adorable seeing him so invested in these dramas. and since the next on Diluc’s list were sit-coms, you were preparing yourself to answer his questions on the context of jokes that he didn’t get. In a poor attempt to flirt with you, he calls out your name and recites in the most Joey Tribbiani voice he could muster, “How you doin?” You were laughing so so hard that night because his pick up line actually worked on you and suddenly your realizations came full circle: you were very much in love with him too.

– His naturally cool yet shy nature had always gotten the best of him. He’s always wanted to ask if you wanted to carpool with him to school. Riding with him in his Tesla sportscar that goes 150 Mph? Heck yeah. However, it took quite a while before he could muster up the courage to ask you (4 months of being roommates until he finally popped the question) Since then, the two of you go home to and from University whenever you had similar schedules. Ever since then, Diluc had began to soften. His cold and hard facade slowly melted. Asking if you could help tie his floofy red hair then he’d let you play with it and let you style it in different ways. He takes you out on café dates during lunch breaks and take you out to watch a movie after both of your late night lectures. Everyone in campus thinks the two of you are practically together at this point. All that was left was to bare your feelings with one another through a fumbling and awkward confession.

“Words cannot not suffice these feelings I’ve been harboring for you since the very beginning. I L-like you a lot. Do you feel the same way too?”

KAEYA:

- Everyone loves Kaeya. Your friends and family, The School Faculty, The owner of the Convenience Store from down the street, The old lady who lives next door, The little kids from down the hall, and even the angry brown poodles from the farthest apartment to your right absolutely loved him. it was hard to keep up with having a roommate that not only were you crushing so hard on, but also had such a vibrant social life. Kaeya interacts and socializes with a lot of people and he admits that it does tend to get tiring at times. But, if these sacrifices lead to coming home to his cute roommate who has captivated his heart since Day 1, then it’s all worth it.

— Despite how warm and friendly he may seem, Kaeya is a very private person. He’s brought two or three friends like Jean, Lisa, Albedo, or Rosaria. But, only to discuss school affairs. He wasn’t the kind of person who trusts others easily, even if he was giving off the impression that he was a trustworthy and reliable person himself. He’d much rather spend time with you on days off from school. He may be a party guy on the outside (he insists he does it for future connections when he graduates) but he’s quite a homebody. Kaeya is the type to watch korean dramas and anime with you, go on late night convenience store cravings, and these always resulted in a perfect evening spent with him. When the both of you are fully immersed into the anime and things get a bit cozy, you rest your head on his shoulder, huddling for warmth.

— Kaeya would always come home with a little something for you. May it be take-out food, A trinket, a board game, an accessory, and even skincare products. The indigo-haired man is very particular about self-care and you bet that he’s bought different kinds of face masks, ointments, and even matching cute headbands just for the two of you! He’s very flamboyant and flirts with you a lot. Trying to impress you with pick up lines and suggestive jokes, but you always thought that he was just joking around because that was always a part of his personality. It was always a part of him. For Kaeya on the other hand, it seems to him that you don’t take him seriously and it's possible that you don’t return his feelings at all. He had to set things straight and it didn’t take long until Kaeya found the perfect opportunity to do so.

— With the help of practically everyone in the apartment, Kaeya is about to surprise you with a candle-lit dinner up on the apartment rooftop. His sly smooth-talking quickly convinced you that the both of you were just going to go out on your nightly convenience store trips. Your curiosity grows when he takes you by the hand, covering you with a blindfold, and whispering to your ear, “Do you trust me?” Gripping onto his hand tightly, the both of you go up some stairs and you reply, “Yes Kaeya, I do.” He slowly uncovers the shield from your eyes and your eyes sparkle at the sight of the candle-lit dinner, complete with jazz music, and a romantic view of the city.

“(Y/N)... You are the most precious person to me. I hope you can take me seriously, especially my feelings. I am saying this with my heart in my hand and with nothing but genuine love in my soul.”

ZHONGLI:

— Zhongli is truly husband material. You’re saying this as his friend, as his roommate, and as someone who’s absolutely smitten over him. He’s a third year environmental archaeology student at Teyvat University. Gentle, kind, and has nothing but wise and intelligent things to say. your lovestruck self can’t help but just admire him from afar, not knowing that he too has been entranced by you ever since you moved in.

—He's always the first to wake up in the morning. The first thing he does is make you a cup of coffee. He's got your favorite memorized, (Coffee with cream. Not to sweet and not too bitter.) The both of you own matching mugs, (written in colored scribbled letters, “The Wise Roommate” for Zhongli and “The Cute Roommate” for you.) He always wants to spend his free mornings with you. Both of you have different schedules so you never see each other at Campus and this was the only blissful time of the day you can spend with one another. Once you get home for dinner, (Zhongli is always the first to get home if he doesn’t stay too long at the library or strolling around the city) If it’s your turn to cook or if it’s his, he never forgets to brew you oolong tea after dinner. A perfect chance for the two of you to just talk the night away and engage in deep and meaningful conversations.

—Zhongli fell in love with you because you just quietly listen to him. Sometimes, you would share your thoughts and insights, even sharing your own personal knowledge that Zhongli had not known prior. You were one of the very few people in his life whom he could talk about absolutely anything with. Well, who wouldn’t listen to a handsome man who has a voice as smooth as butter? He is very passionate about his studies. Taking a lot of extra courses and spending a lot of money on his research. and so, most of the time, he spends all of his Mora on his extra studies (excluding the money he needs to pay for rent) and other interesting antiques. You understood why though. So, instead, you ask him to accompany you to do mundane chores. Going grocery shopping, doing the laundry and cleaning the apartment. He always helps in any way he can. The prying eyes of people around you and the old lady fr next door boldly coming up to you to ask if you and Zhongli were a married couple. You blush profusely whereas Zhongli coolly denies the woman's claims. It hurt quite a little but who were you to complain?

— It was during one of your night strolls with Zhongli. He had invited you out after dinner under the guise of wanting to have some fresh air and find a clear spot for the fireworks from a nearby festival. Your heart was thumping loudly to a non-existent rhythm, blissfully unaware that Zhongli was feeling a burst in his chest too. He clears his throat and his shoulders straighten. Zhongli puts his hand on your shoulder and breathes deeply. His cool and gentlemanly aura still radiating off of him as always. A wonderful array of colors fill the sky as his lips began to form the words he's always wanted to say:

"Tonight is beautiful isn't it? I thought that this would be the perfect time to open my heart up to you... You are a diamond in the rough that few see the beauty of. My beloved– Will you accept my feelings?

XIAO:

— Having a popular twitch streamer as your roommate was a one in a million chance. Especially if you’re not even an influencer or internet figure yourself. But, how did this come to be? Why have you developed a crush on Xiao aka VigilantYaksha without knowing who he was? A gamer with over 6 million followers on different social media platforms? Simple, a high-end apartment near Teyvat University had a special discount if you were willing to be roommates with someone. It’s an amazing deal, near your school, cost-efficient, and you believed the 10% chance of scoring a hot roommate as seen on reality TV and romantic comedies. It was like rolling through a Gacha Game and getting a 5 star character. As that “character” is soon to be revealed as Xiao.

— Things started off rocky at first. On your first day, he flatly welcomed you by the door, introduced himself, then quickly retreated back to his room. As soon as you locked eyes with him, he gave off a certain cold and unfriendly aura. You wanted to get to know him better. Maybe with a little love and care, he could open up to you and you could become friends! That same day, you had mistakenly thought of your room as his and you walked in on him streaming a horror game. He wasn’t spooked by the jumpscares. But instead, he was looking at you in horror because you’ve just exposed yourself to thousands of people. You wave at the camera, apologize, and left. Since then, his fans, (called the Anemo Tofus) have been shipping the two of you together. Creating fanfiction and fanart of Xiao and the mysterious roommate that accidentally walked in on him. They practically begged Xiao to at least talk a little bit about you, to which, he declined. When you surprised him with dinner (as a little treat since this was your first week with him) He sits across the table from you, his eyes gazing deep into yours, as he pops the question, in a very tsundere tone: “Would you like to appear in my streams? T-the Anemo Tofus wanna learn more about you. B-but, if you don’t want to, it’s alright! You don’t have to-” You cut him off before he could continue his doubts, “Xiao! What are you saying? I’d love to!”

— There was something blossoming between the two of you after that particular dinner with him. Starting with your first “roommate video” that you had thought of when you were brainstorming for video ideas. It was an Almond and Mapo Tofu mukbang whilst the two of you answered questions from fans! The viewers noticed how visibly comfortable he was around you despite his usual reserved attitude. He was cracking up a lot more sarcastic and self-deprecating jokes whilst Tofu filled both of your mouths. Outside of the confines of social media and inside the comfortable space that was your apartment, you and Xiao grew closer. Wearing matching hoodies, going on midnight snack runs, playing in arcades, and stargazing with him up on the rooftop as you contemplate about life and talk about the mysteries of the universe. There were times when you would stay up late doing school works and would accidentally fall asleep on the sofa. Xiao would come out of room because he periodically had cases of insomnia. When he sees you on the sofa, he can’t help but smile at your sleeping figure and admire your beauty. First. he brings all your clutter back to your room then slowly picks you up from the couch, into his arms, and brings you back to your room. He places a blanket on top of you and your stuffed plushies next to you so you can hug them any time.

— On a particular night, you fell asleep on the sofa once again and begun to have recurring nightmares. Xiao was there to witness you whimpering, muttering to yourself, and shivering to a mental image that he could not see. (He wishes he could erase all the pain that these nightmares were giving you) You subconsciously grab onto his hand, murmuring to yourself: “Xiao, please don’t go.” He whispers back, “I won’t.” Your nerves slowly relax when you feel the Yaksha squeezing himself to lie next to you on the couch. Holding onto your arm, he continues to reassure you that it was going to be okay. You grab onto him, hugging him from behind. He feels your heartbeat revert back to it’s normal pace and you return back to your peaceful slumber. “I’ll always be here for you, (Y/N). I’ll be here to protect you. Forever and always.” Turning to you to plant a kiss on your forehead, you nestle your head on Xiao’s chest. He watches as you cling to him for love and warmth until he is slowly whisked away by his weariness, rewarded with a peaceful sleep he hasn’t felt in a while.

“And they were roommates.”

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yokohamapound · 2 years

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HELLO HI YEAH HI H

before i get on the req i just wanted to say i really love your writing style for atsushi bby you’re literally doing godswork thank you

as for the req can i have kunikida, atsushi and dazai (you coukd remove or add anyone) with an s/o who is so sensitive to lower temperatures woawaow feel free to ignore, have a great day/night !

Hi, hi, hello! Sure thing, lovely! I hope you like these.

Characters: Kunikida Doppo, Nakajima Atsushi, Dazai Osamu

Contents: gender neutral reader

Kunikida Doppo

Kunikida notices the first time the temperature drops and your demeanour changes. You're lethargic, shivering, huddling into your jacket, but it's not even that cold outside. Perhaps a cool spring or autumn day, but your teeth are chattering. He can't tell you off for dressing inappropriately for the weather, because he's wearing the same as you and he's perfectly comfortable.

Out comes the notebook.

It doesn't matter if it's a natural sensitivity from growing up in a hotter climate or if there's something physically affecting your ability to tolerate the cold, Kunikida's going to make sure you maintain the ideal body temperature at all times!

First stage of his research is to document what your tolerance levels are. Don't worry, he's not going to force you into ice baths, but he'll keep an eye on you as the thermometer drops and make copious notes.

When he's gauged your minimum comfortable temperature, he adds a new section to his aggressively organised bullet journal, tracking the weather forecast and the days you're most likely to be affected. Those are the days he'll nag you to bring a jacket with you. He has a spare coat, gloves, hat, and scarf in his locker at work just in case. What an efficient guy!

He also tried to sell you on the benefits of thermal underwear but that argument didn't fly.

He normally doesn't do much PDA, but if you get caught by surprise by unpredictable weather, he'll gruffly pull you into his side, letting you use him as a radiator until you can get to a cafe for a cup of tea to warm you up properly.

"This wouldn't be an issue if you had got the—"

"For the sake of my sanity and our sex life, I am not wearing long johns."

Nakajima Atsushi

Atsushi's immediate reaction? ANXIETY.

What if you catch a cold? What if the cold causes circulation problems and your hands drop off? What if, what if? Atsushi's real ability is his wild imagination for unlikely situations.

This isn't confirmed anywhere, but I feel like Atsushi naturally runs at a higher temperature than normal people, like a side effect of his ability. He still gets cold, sure, but his body temperature is noticably warmer than yours, which means he's perfect to cuddle up to when it gets chilly.

If I'm playing up his feline tendencies, I'd say he prefers the heat too. Back in his orphanage days, he'd probably do exactly what a housecat does and find the sun-warmed bits of floor to sleep on.

He just about cries at the thought of you clinging to him for warmth—it's so cute and he's so starved for affection. Atsushi will literally sit on the couch and let you curl up on his lap until his legs go dead.

Simp. <3

Anyway, he's also the first to offer you his jacket/scarf/gloves etc the second you look like you're cold. You look so cute when you wear his clothes that he's practically stripping down to the skin to give you more of them, lmao.

"Oh no, are you cold? Take my shirt!"

"Atsushi, you can't go around topless!"

Money can be kinda tight but he'll happily crank the heating up in your apartment. He's been frozen to the bone before and he wouldn't wish it on anyone else, let along his precious s/o. He'll surprise you with some kind of onesie. Yes, he gets one for himself, too. Yes, it's a tiger one.

Lying under a heap of blankets at night, wrapped in Atsushi's arms is literally the warmest you'll ever be, physically and metaphorically. His little purr/snores are cute.

Dazai Osamu

I wonder if all those bandages keep him warm?

Anyway, as feckless as Dazai likes to pretend to be, that bastard notices everything. I mean, everything. It's ridiculously hard to pull the wool over his eyes, so don't try being stoic or anything in case you're worried about being needy or annoying. The annoying one in this relationship is Dazai and he will never relinquish that title.

The sight of you in his long coat is so cute, but he also won't pass up the opportunity to have you huddle underneath his coat while he's still wearing it. He'll stick his hands in his pockets and wrap his arms around you. If the height difference is big enough, he'll prop his chin on your head.

Finds any excuse to grab your hands and rub them, cooing sadly over how chilly they are.

At this point it might be safe to say that he has a full on hand fetish?

"Cold hands, warm heart!"

"Cold hands, poor circulation."

"I'm trying to be romantic, here."

He'll invest in a kotatsu, claiming that it's for you, but you'll find him sprawled underneath it more often than not. Trying to lure him out is nigh on impossible unless you show him something he wants more. Like a bit of leg or a delicious dessert (either of those may apply to you, btw.)

#Yokohama Pound #bungou stray dogs #bsd headcanons #bsd imagines #Kunikida Doppo #Kunikida x Reader #Dazai Osamu #Dazai x Reader #Nakajima Atsushi #Atsushi x Reader #glorious fluff

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rillils · 2 years

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Who kissed who first? Stucky pls, my love.

D, my love my darling my boo, I know it's been literally months but I still can't find the words to thank you for this, honey! Thank you for giving me the perfect excuse to scribble about these boys 💕💕💕 I love them with all my heart, but I'll always be petrified by the fear of not doing them justice ;3; Here, please accept this offering of mine: 1333 words, prewar boys, possibly a little less dumb than it looks at first 💕

Steve is many things, but he’s not stupid. He knows what they’ve been doing here, this little game they keep playing between them.

Some people would call it a silent agreement; Steve calls it a long-term two-way scam, the way he and Bucky have been trying to trick themselves and each other into thinking that there’s nothing going on here, nope, nothing at all.

If they tend to linger in each other’s space more than necessary, it’s simply out of habit, you know? After so many years, it’s only natural to drift together in the little day-to-day things. It’s routine, really. At some point you stop noticing if the fingers fixing your tie and smoothing your lapels ever so tenderly are your own or your buddy’s.

And isn’t it just practical for them to huddle close, and for Bucky to hook his chin over Steve’s shoulder while they watch the stew simmer away in its pot? After all, the stove is warm but it’s so, so narrow, there’s no way they could both fit in front of it standing side by side.

Honestly, pushing their beds together when it’s real cold is just good sense, and if in the morning they forget to put them back, it’s only because they get distracted, you know, boys will be boys, didn’t Steve’s Ma always say that? (The answer is no. His Ma never once said that in her whole life.)

But Steve knows. Truly, he does.

He knows that young men don’t dance together like he and Bucky do when nobody’s around – swaying on slow feet, arms around each other and heads tipped together, Just for something to do, like Bucky says.

But then Bucky rests his cheek against Steve’s temple and hums along to the music, and holds their joined hands to his chest, tucked over his heart, and hang all the young men out there and what they do and what they don’t do, because if Bucky gives it then Steve takes it, oh, Steve soaks it all up like it’s sunlight and he’s been left in the dark for too long.

When it’s raining outside and they’ve got nothing better to do, he knows they don’t have to sit so tight together on the couch to read from the same book; Steve doesn’t need to lean his head against Bucky’s shoulder, and Bucky doesn’t need to make his voice so soft, so intimately warm as he murmurs the words just by Steve’s ear, as if the bumbling adventures of Bilbo Baggins were a tender secret to be shared just between the two of them.

But that’s what they’re doing, and Steve should have known that it would all come to a head eventually.

He knows now, waking up with the familiar weight of The Hobbit still open across their laps, and Bucky’s lips caught in the act of kissing his hair, that their little scam couldn’t go on forever.

He indulges himself for a moment, savouring the closeness of their bodies, trying to etch the warmth of Bucky’s lips on him into his memory just in case he doesn’t get another chance to feel it.

He pulls back gently, afraid of spooking Bucky somehow, of driving him away and losing this – losing what little they’ve allowed themselves to have – forever, but Bucky doesn’t move. His arm stays cinched around Steve, and when Steve looks up, the gray of his eyes is bright and infinite, and so, so utterly terrified.

“Steve,” he rasps, on the tail end of a breath. And here is the thing, you see, because– because Steve’s name has had many a flavour on Bucky’s lips, and Steve has loved each and every one of them; has loved watching Bucky fill his mouth with that single, precious syllable and reshape it time and again – stretch it out on a lazy morning, roll it up easy on his tongue, hiss it through clenched teeth when he was mad.

But this, this is a sound Steve has never heard before. So breathless, and so small. So painfully vulnerable, it could split his heart in two.

There are words crowding Bucky’s mind; Steve can see them in the soft crease of Bucky’s brow, in the way he swallows thickly, as if they were stuck in his throat and just won’t come out.

It’s such a rare sight. Steve has hardly ever seen Bucky so tongue-tied before; not Bucky the sweet-talker, Bucky who always runs his mouth smooth like silk with his girls.

Oh, Steve has been jealous of them. Of the neat golden curls that always seemed to catch Bucky’s eye; of the cherry red lips he knew Bucky would be kissing, the perfumed necks he’d pictured Bucky brushing his soft mouth against.

Did any of them ever feel like this, he wonders – did they ever–

There’s a palm cupping the nape of his neck, calloused fingers dipping softly in his short hair. The touch makes Steve shiver, it’s so warm.

“Steve...” Bucky’s leaning in, close, closer; he is eyes and he is breath, ghosting like a caress against Steve’s skin. “If there’s something you wanna say, say it now,” he tells Steve, the words tight in his throat, and Steve knows what he means; knows he can tell Bucky to stop, and he will stop, right here, right now, no questions asked. But Steve doesn’t want him to stop.

He brings his own hand up to Bucky’s cheek, gentle, testing this first touch with his fingertips, with his palm, the pale bumps of his knuckles.

Bucky’s pupils widen minutely, surprised. He’s so beautiful like this, sweet and impossibly young under Steve’s hand – moving, like a work of art, and Steve can only touch him with tenderness; can only hope his heart won’t burst, it feels so full.

“No,” he says softly, curling his fingers over the back of Bucky’s neck.

“No?”

“I got nothing to say.” Their noses are touching now; Steve makes a point of brushing them together, tip to tip, back and forth, fondness spilling over through his grin. “You’re the chatterbox out of the two of us, anyway. Talk my ear off if I didn’t–”

And you see, for all Steve knows of Bucky; for all the ways Steve’s learned him, owned him like a skill, mastered and honed over the years; how he has missed knowing this part of him. How he has longed to know Bucky’s kisses as well as he knows the different shades of his laughter, his moods, the arch of his hands, the nurturing quality of Bucky’s love.

And now Bucky’s kissing him, easing in softly, slowly, and Steve mourns the loss of that first brush of lips only until Bucky coaxes his mouth open and meets him halfway.

Oh. Here is the silk of his tongue, then, Steve muses with a sweet shiver.

But as Bucky tugs him closer, and the book slips off their laps to tumble onto the floor, Steve finds that silk is not all he gets.

Here is the hot velvet of Bucky’s mouth, and the cotton-light touch of his fingers tangling in Steve’s hair. Here is the rich brocade of Bucky’s skin running under Steve’s palms, anywhere he can reach – his throat, his cheeks, a sliver of his chest where his buttons have come undone – and the wool-like tenderness of Bucky’s arms around him, enveloping him snug and comfortable, the perfect fit.

He can only wonder if Bucky’s learning him, too; all the textures of him, the newly familiar taste of him, and it’s such a heady thought, Steve feels dizzy with it.

Even as they part, he’s reluctant to move too far. Bucky keeps him close anyways, safe in his lap; his arms steady around Steve’s middle, their noses bumping together sweetly.

“That talk enough for you?” He quips as they catch their breath, and Steve can only laugh against his mouth, dazed and breathless as he is.

Perhaps their little scam was worth all the time they put in, after all.

#rainbowsandcoconut #stucky #rillers scribbles #ashdgasjhsdjgh #the intense need to skyrocket myself straight onto mars right now is Strong(TM)#D my wonderful wonderful babe <3 #thank you so much for always being so sweet to me #i hope this can make up for some of my dumbness lol #ilysm #*flies into the next galaxy*

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sinfulcries · 3 years

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reader filming him and kenma fucking without his consent and black mailing him the next day, telling kenma that he won't leak the video if kenma becomes his slave. despite reader being toxic, kenma catches feelings for him and when he confesses, reader says he feels the same way and fucks kenma only to crush kenma's hopes by saying he was just joking & that he would never like him hehe.

tokyo afternoons . kenma x male reader

authors notes. holy shit this was really long and it took me a few weeks to write. i was planning on writing 2 smuts for this but i lost inspiration at the end </3 anyways, virgin kenma hits differently

word count. 3.1k

tw. blackmail, non consensual filming, manipulation, toxic && douche-y reader, sadistic reader, virginity loss, corruption, size difference, unprotected sex, ignorant kuroo, obsession, spitting, noncon at the end.

The air was hot. Tokyo has always been so warm but it was never this hot. Kenma’s pale skin started to sweat, cheeks flushed as golden eyes peered at the man who was sitting beside him. You always left a warm feeling in his chest-- always left his heart drumming loudly whilst his cheeks were flushed a bright red. You were addictive, one of the people who managed to effortlessly bring a smile on to Kenma’s face.

“You’re staring at me.” You broke the comfortable silence with a chuckle, Kenma snapping out of his trance as he turned away to avoid your hot gaze. “Sorry,” Muttering a half hearted response in reply, the blonde averted his gaze to the sky-- watching the harsh sunlight spread over tokyo’s vast horizon. “You know, You look really pretty when you were staring at me earlier.” Another sentence that came out of your mouth broke the comfortable silence once again, and Kenma eyed you cautiously, not wanting to believe the compliment.

“Do you say that to every person you hook up with?” Furrowing your eyebrows at his response, you planted your arms on top of your thighs, resting your head in the comfort of your palms as you looked at the shorter blonde seated beside you. “Believe it or not, I’ve only said that to you.”

A sweet-talker. That’s what you were. Trying to lure Kenma in with your velvety voice and your captivating stare. Again, you were addicting. And Kenma was bewildered that he managed to hook up with you, the most popular and well loved guy in his university. “You seem like the type of person to call your partner a slut in public.”

“I do call my partner’s ‘slut’ in public. Not with you though.” You snorted, grinning as you faced the sky, taking occasional glances at the male. “And why is that?” Confusion laced in his voice, and eyes narrowed at your taller figure, you only smiled softly in response, lashes fluttering against soft skin as you whispered faintly, “You’re just different.”

Kenma could barely form a response with how his skin turned hot quickly-- The heat of the sun accompanied by your words only making him more of a mess than he already was. Hearing the speakerphone play the familiar tone signalling that their break was over, you grabbed the back of the smaller boy’s neck before pulling his head in to connect your lips with his. You took the opportunity to tug on his bottom lip between your teeth before pulling away.

“I’ll see you at my place, Kozume.” You sing-songed whilst simultaneously standing up to catch your next class. Kenma was left to stare at your retreating form, cheeks dusted with red as he felt the warmth in his chest spread every time he thought of your lips on his own once more.

Time seemed to tick slowly-- and Kenma had to begrudgingly go through the whole day without thinking of you or the intimate little moment that you had with him a few hours ago. It was pure torture-- not having you by his side or seeing your smile or hearing your shameless attempts at flirting. It was embarrassing, but he knew that he was getting used to you and your presence. Running a hand through his coarse hair, he spotted you leaning against the wall outside of his classroom, a greasy smile plastered on your face as you diverted your attention from the ladies beside you to the small blonde.

Kenma’s heart dropped. He knew you were popular and that he didn’t have the right to get jealous because you were never his to begin with, but did that intimate moment mean nothing to you? Did that kiss mean nothing to you? He was snapped out of his thoughts when you tapped his shoulder once again-- your deep voice ringing in his ears as you cupped his cheek tenderly. “-ma, Kenma hey?”

“Sorry I zoned out again.” He apologised, forgetting about what upset him for a moment before removing your calloused hand that rested on his cheek. You frowned at the action but soon relaxed, taking his small hand in your own. “Don’t worry about it. Should we get going?” You asked, and Kenma tensed, heaving a sigh as he mustered the courage to remove his hand from your hold.

“I don’t think i can go to your place today. Just choose one of those girls to go instead.” he murmured, bowing dejectedly. Tilting your head in confusion, you slowly grabbed his chin, tilting his head softly so that his golden orbs could meet yours. “Are you jealous, Ken?” you cooed, pressing another kiss onto his lips as he could only hear the whispers of his classmates in the background.

Kenma started shaking, instinctively moving closer towards you, turning his head so that he could bury his face into your chest. Noticing Kenma’s change of behaviour, you glared at the group of girls gossiping, instantly shutting them up. “Mind your own business.” Your loud voice was heard throughout the semi-crowded hallway and the people who had witnessed the sight of you kissing kenma nodded frantically, scrambling away to leave you and kenma to your own devices.

“They’re gone now baby. You can stop hiding.” Grabbing his hips gently, the blonde slowly scanned his surroundings before hugging you again, a soft whimper leaving his lips as you stroked his hair soothingly, “T-Thank you.”

Smiling fondly you replied, “No problem. Let’s go, baby.”

As the two of you made your way towards your apartment, Kenma couldn’t help but stare at your taller figure, huddling closer to your side once he felt the chilly afternoon air hitting his skin. “We’re almost there, kitten. Sorry I didn’t bring my jacket.” You apologised, instead removing your blazer and placing it on top of his shoulders. “You’ll get cold, y/n.” Kenma murmured worriedly, “I’ll be fine baby, don’t worry.”

His chest rose and fell quietly. The faint sounds of footsteps and your occasional humming were the only sounds that he could hear in the empty street. You both arrived at your place quite quickly. You politely opened the door for the setter, leaving your backpacks at the doorstep and discarding your shoes before making your way towards the kitchen. “Do you want something to eat, Ken?” You called out, opening your fridge to scan over the snacks you had.

“No thank you.” Kenma declined from the couch, unbuttoning the first top buttons of his dress shirt and tossing his tie to the side. “Suit yourself.”

Making your way towards Kenma’s hunched form-- a grin wormed its way onto your lips, ruffling his hair once you crept up behind him. “Wanna go to my room instead? You can lay down more comfortably over there.”

Kenma gratefully accepted your offer, taking small and reluctant steps towards the mattress. “A-Are you sure I can lay down here?” The blonde shyly inquired, unable to focus once your scent hit his nose. You smelt so good-- fresh and clean, just the way Kenma liked it. You laughed at his flustered expression once more, jumping onto your mattress before pulling him in so that he was on top of you. “You’re light.”

“A-And you’re really warm....” His voice was so faint that you could barely hear it. Kenma looked to face you, cheeks dusted with red as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip thoughtfully. “What’s on your mind?”

“I was wondering i-if you c-could…” Kenma tried his best not to stutter.

“If I could, what, kitten?”

Closing his eyes, Kenma took a deep breath before murmuring, “If you could kiss me again....”

Not giving the setter a chance to repeat himself, you leaned in to kiss him-- snaking an arm around his slim waist possessively as you started to jerk your hips against his clothed cock. Kenma whimpered into the kiss, eyes shut tightly as he failed to notice your free hand propping your phone on the nightstand-- giving the camera a perfect view of what you were doing to the poor boy.

“Ruin me, y/n-kun~” Kenma didn't have to tell you twice before a dark smirk made its way onto your lips-- hitting the ‘record’ button before trailing your kisses downwards, kissing and sucking on the skin of his jawline and neck.

“Mm,” Kenma whimpered, grounding his ass against your growing erection, earning him a deep growl of his name. “Yeah baby keep grinding against my cock like that,” you praised, only making the smaller male comply.

A whine left the blonde’s lips as he started humping his ass against your thick cock-- his head fuzzy and vision clouded with lust. He loved this so much-- feeling your bulge against his ass. If the tent in your slacks was already big enough to prod at his clothed entrance, he couldn’t imagine how big you would feel deep inside of him, rearranging his guts and fucking him like the useless cock sleeve he was.

Feeling your big hands caressing the soft skin that hid beneath his dress shirt, he yelped as your thumbs pressed against the flesh of his hip before moving upwards to roll his nipples between your thumb and index finger. “You’re so sensitive, kitty. Such a cute little boy…” you cooed, tugging on the hardened bud.

Kenma keened at your touch, leaning against your chest as you moved to unzip both his and your trousers, making both of your hard cocks spring free from its confinements. Kenma’s intense and love-struck gaze was trained on your hard cock, the sight making him subconsciously lick his lips. “Don’t just stare at it, Kitty. Put it in your mouth.”

He gulped. His pupils shaking and his hands sweating as he struggled to even touch your length. “I-I don’t think i-it would fi--!” You were getting impatient and soon you grabbed him by his hair, forcing him to take your fat cock in all at once. “Stop making excuses and take it like a good boy.”

You started fucking his warm throat-- a low groan leaving your lips once you felt the tip hitting the back of his throat. Kenma was inexperienced and you could tell by the way he was sobbing, frantically tapping your thighs signalling that he couldn’t breathe. You rolled your eyes, lifting his head up so that he could gasp for air only to fuck him a second after. “Breathe through your nose baby.”

Kenma’s tear filled eyes met yours and eventually, he started getting used to the feeling of your cock wrecking his pretty little mouth. His face was ridden with drool, the sound of gurgling, your deep groans and his frantic whimpers around your cock the only noise filling the room.

“I’m about to cum, doll--!” You rasped, thrusting into his mouth a few more times before holding his head in place, spilling your hot cum down his throat. Your free hand came to cup his cheek, spreading the cum that dripped down his chin onto his cheeks, mixing it with his drool and his tears. “So fucking pretty.” you grinned, making him smile weakly in response.

You effectively flipped Kenma so that you were on top of him, Your fingers teasing the rim of his puckered hole as he squirmed beneath your bigger figure. “You’re a virgin aren’t you?” You mused, grabbing the bottle of lube from your night stand before coating your fingers generously with the cold gel.

Kenma blushed, turning his head to avoid your gaze as he felt his heart thumping loudly in his chest. “Y-Yeah..” He murmured.

Your gaze on the blonde softened, wanting to at least prep him properly before fucking him senseless. “Okay. I’m going to stretch you out first, Is that fine with you darling?” A curt nod was Kenma’s only response and You wasted no time in stretching his hole out. You started with one finger, thrusting it in and out of him until he got used to the feeling before moving onto two fingers. You took your time with him, making sure that he felt good before he told you that he was ready to take you in.

Glancing at the camera once more you grinned darkly before snapping your hips forward, burying every inch of your cock inside of Kenma’s ass. The smaller male mewled helplessly, arching his back as he felt full from your cock.

“Mmm, Your cunt’s so nice and tight f’me” You moaned against his taut skin, snapping your hips forward to meet Kenma’s. The smaller male jolted forward, attempting to meet up with your pace only to rake his nails helplessly against your back.

Kenma felt your lips clasping around his hardened nipple, Your warm and wet tongue swirling around the swollen bud. The blonde cried out in bliss, toes curling as he came without warning, an amused chuckle leaving your lips. “You’re so sensitive, Kenma. You came so easily.”

“S’Cause you’re too big…” Kenma laughed breathlessly, feeling the bulge in his stomach as you moved inside of him. A fond smile replaced your hot expression and soon enough, you were peppering kisses all over his sensitive body, a string of whimpers leaving Kenma’s mouth as he begged for more.

As much as Kenma enjoyed the hot afternoon in your embrace with your cock buried inside of him. He failed to notice the beeping sound of your camera once the two of you were done with your little session.

The next day seemed like a blur to the man. After you approached him, Showing the video you took with a shit-eating grin on your face, He instantly begged you not to show anyone-- Even getting on his knees to suck you off in the senior’s empty classroom. Your smile was different-- it wasn't genuine and soft just like the one you had flashed him yesterday-- your smile was wicked, condescending. And it only made his heart break much more, seeing how mean and ruthless you actually were. Your actions were undeniably fucked up however Kenma still couldn't bring himself to despise you, And he hated how much you still made his flutter even if you were hurting his feelings without a care in the world.

“Kuroo can I tell you something?” Kenma asked timidly, asking the chemistry major, making him nod attentively. “Yeah go ahead man.”

“You know Y/n L/n right..?” The blonde’s voice was slowly becoming softer and Kuroo only hummed, “Yeah the attractive senior what about him?” Kenma gulped before continuing, “I-I… we had sex and he b-black mailed me..”

Kuroo scoffed, laughing loudly at the words that left Kenma’s mouth. “Y/n? Fucking someone like you? I'm sorry Ken but fantasies are waaay different than reality. Have the video games been getting to your head? He’s way too out of your league.” Kuroo shook his head, trying to stop himself from laughing more and Kenma sighed exasperatedly, trying not to cry.

“You’re really not helping, Kuroo.” He murmured as the rooster head only raised his hands up in defense, “I'm just saying! He would more likely go for me you know,” The older male cooed teasingly, wiggling his eyebrows. “Well I have a class to catch, Ken! Let’s hang when you’re less busy and also, get lots of rest.”

Kenma sighed at the man’s words as he was left alone to ponder. If his best friend didn’t believe him then, no one would. However as much as the thought consumed him, He soon craved to have you touch him lewdly once more. He craved you, Confusing infatuation with love. Kenma wasn’t in love with you, No, He was obsessed with you. And to think that he would have such feelings for, you, out of all people, made his situation much more pitiful.

Before the blonde could think of anything to make his situation less worse, He felt his phone vibrating in his pocket, a text message that had been sent from you illuminating brightly on the screen.

Y/n-Senpai: Come over after class.

Although the text was simple and straightforward, Kenma couldn’t help but think about it for the rest of the day. Why did you want him to come over? Were you gonna delete the video? Several thoughts spiralled in his head but none of them seemed to answer any of his questions.

“Relax, Kenma, I’m not going to do anything.” You laughed heartily, making the blonde seated in front of you shuffle nervously. Your words were not exactly the most convincing, especially paired with the mischievous glint in your eyes. But he decided to keep shut, letting you speak first.

“Do you like me?” You spoke bluntly, And Kenma tensed at the question, hanging his head down low to avoid your gaze. You soon frowned at the action, grabbing the smaller male’s chin, forcing him to look you in the eye. “C’mon, Ken. Answer me.”

It was now or never. You were giving Kenma the chance to confess! He wouldn’t just throw this opportunity away, No! He was going to tell you how he felt right here, right now. “Y-Yes.” He mumbled embarrassedly, only to blush once he saw you smiling at him softly.

He was too innocent! You almost felt bad for playing with his precious little feelings, however, as much as you loved making the naive boy smile, You would much rather see him crying and wailing for you to reciprocate his feelings.

“Are you gonna say anything else…?” Kenma piqued anxiously, and you hummed in response, inching your face closer to his, “Do you want me to say anything?”. God-- How could he form a proper reply when your lips were merely inches away? The younger only nodded before you leaned in to kiss him.

“I wanna fuck you.” Were the words that came out of your mouth. “I- Don’t think I want to-”

Giving him no time to protest, you pinned him onto your couch, pressing your body closely against his as he let out a silent mewl. “Don’t be such a killjoy. I thought you liked me?”

Your change of personality only caused Kenma to sniffle, tears forming in his eyes as he clutched onto the couch’s fabric tightly.-- “I do but, I don’t want to--!”

He looked so pathetic! And it almost made you cum, seeing him look so pitiful and helpless. Your touch on his skin was hot-- Blazing and painful; It almost reminded Kenma of the hot tokyo afternoon he spent with you a few days ago, except this time, you were torturing him and taking advantage of how weak he was, especially when it came to you.

You effectively shut the male up by spitting into his mouth, forcing him to swallow your saliva as your predatory gaze landed on his shivering body. “You don’t want to? Well then you’ll leave me no other choice but to force my cock inside of you, Kenma.”

#sinfulcries works #top male reader #dark content #haikyuu x male reader #dark blog #dark haikyuu #hq smut #seme male reader #x male reader #kenma kozume #kenma x male reader #kenma kozume x male reader #kenma smut #dom male reader

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heauxplesslydevoted · 3 years

Text

Coming Down (Ethan x MC)

Summary: They break up. Dassit

A/N: I’ve been tired of this imposter Ethan, and the back of forth nature of his romance route for the entirety of book 3, so I wrote this.

Warnings: None

Title Inspo

~v~

Naomi’s fingernails tap impatiently against her leg as the shrill ring of her cell phone rings at her ear. It rings 5 long times before she’s sent to voicemail.

“Hello, you’ve reached Dr. Ethan Ramsey. I’m sorry for not answering your phone call, but leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you.”

“Ethan, it’s me...again. I haven’t heard from you in,” lifting her wrist, Naomi checks the time on her watch, “wow, in over 24 hours. I’ve been calling and calling, to no avail, and you just aren’t responding.”

The news of Ethan getting hit with a malpractice lawsuit hit her like a freight train. As soon as things started to feel good again, as soon as the diagnostics team started to find its rhythm with two new physicians, this torpedoes any chance of normalcy she could ever experience.

“If you could give me a call back and let me hear the sound of your voice, that’d be great. Bye.”

There’s a lot more that she wants to say, but she’s been given a limited window of time so Naomi hangs up.

Switching tactics, Naomi opens up her messages, and scrolls to her thread with Ethan.

Naomi: Hi

Naomi: Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in a while.

Naomi: Can you at least reply, telling me to leave you alone?

Naomi: At this point, I’d settle for at least knowing if you’re alive.

She waits a few minutes, and when she gets no response, she shoves her phone into the pocket of her white coat. Anxiousness and worry pools in the pit of her stomach, and the only thing she can think about is Ethan’s well being. And this situation doesn’t bode well because Naomi is still in the middle of her shift.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of quiet chatter as the door to the diagnostics team’s office opens and in walks Tobias and Harper. Their conversation is cut short once they notice the youngest member of the team.

“Hi, Naomi,” Tobias greets, an easygoing smile adorning his face. “What’s up?”

She wishes she could feel as casual as he looks, because every part of her body is twisted inside out and turned upside down.

“Have either of you talked to Ethan today?” Naomi asks, skipping the pleasantries.

“I spoke to him yesterday just to gauge how he was handling the malpractice suit,” Tobias answers. “Obviously, the conversation didn’t last long because he and I rarely interact outside of these four walls, but he seems…” he trails off when he notices Naomi’s face fall. “What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

Any other time, Naomi would be ecstatic to hear about Tobias extending an olive branch, and Ethan actually accepting the support, but today isn’t that day. She’s been trying to get in touch with him all day with no success, but he answers a phone call from his sworn enemy?

“I haven’t heard from Ethan today, so I’m at least glad to know he’s breathing,” Naomi says, her voice tight.

Too caught up in her own pity party, Naomi misses the way Tobias and Harper exchange worried glances. The team has been through enough the past few months, the last thing they need is romantic friction between Ethan and Naomi seeping into the office.

“Maybe he’s turned his phone off since then?” Tobias suggests. “Times like this can force you into an introspective mood, and he’s probably going technology free.”

Naomi chuckles humorlessly. She appreciates Tobias’s effort to satiate her foul mood, but she can’t think of a single excuse short of death that could justify Ethan’s behavior.

She stands, dusting off her coat and straightening it out. “Thanks. I’m going to get some lab work done on our patient, page me if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

Without another word, Naomi exits the office.

Working helps slightly. For an hour or so, Naomi is successful in turning off her brain and focusing diligently on work. She manages to not think about Ethan at all.

Until she hears his name brought up in conversation. She’s strolling towards the nurse's station when she sees Sarah and another nurse, Ronnie huddled in a corner.

“Sounds like Dr. Ramsey’s not as perfect as everyone thinks, huh?”

“Screwing up a standard tracheotomy that way? Frankly, I’m just surprised it took the patient this long to sue!”

Naomi slows her steps before she stops walking all together. The nurses are so engrossed in their conversation, they don’t even notice her.

“I heard from Marlene that the patient wouldn’t have even needed a trach if they hadn’t dosed her wrong in the first place,” Sarah adds in an excited whisper.

“Seriously? That’s next level…”

Her first instinct is to stop this, to tell them to stop talking, the urge to protect Ethan still as strong as it’s always been.

But she stops herself from doing that. Because why should she? Why should she put forth the effort to defend the honor and reputation of a man that doesn’t even have the decency to answer her phone calls?

And just like that, she’s plunged back into her flurry of conflicting emotions: worry, fear, annoyance, and most of all, anger. The emotions war inside her, all fighting for dominance, and she hasn’t felt like this since her intern year when he left to go to South America without any sort of goodbye or correspondence.

That wasn’t a good period in her life. Naomi can still feel the cold grip of anxiety that plagued her chest when she came into work one day and he was nowhere to be seen. She heard through a LVN that he left before confirming it with Naveen. She can still taste the saltiness of the tears she shed after leaving her 5th unanswered voicemail. Experiencing such a high of beating her ethics trial and getting picked for the diagnostic team, and the low of him leaving in that short amount of time left her spiraling and isolated, and it took entirely too much time clawing herself out of that dark place.

Turning on her heel, Naomi speed walks in the other direction, her original plan long forgotten. The hospital passes her by in a blur as her legs move, the rest of her body and brain moving on autopilot.

She doesn’t stop moving until she’s in front of the residents’ lounge. She spots Aurora, Bryce, and Sienna sitting at a table.

“Naomi, come join us!” Sienna exclaims. “We’re going to make cappuccinos with this fancy machine.”

“I’ll have to take a raincheck on that,” Naomi says. She turns to Bryce. “Can I borrow your car keys please?”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just have a couple errands to run and I don’t feel like taking the train. I’ll bring it back with a full tank of gas and everything.”

“I’m not gonna nitpick you about gas, Omi.” Bryce’s warm gaze sweeps across Naomi’s face, studying her. If he notices anything wrong with her, which he probably does because Bryce is a lot more perceptive than he gives himself credit for, he thankfully doesn’t mention it. He reaches into the pocket of his mint green scrub pants and pulls out his keys. He tosses the keys to Naomi with a wink, and she catches them mid air.

“I keep a shovel in the trunk in case you need to bury a body.”

Whether he realizes what is going on with her, or if he just cracked a joke to lighten the mood, Naomi is grateful either way.

~v~

Naomi spends an hour driving around Boston, people watching and attempting to collect her thoughts before she ends up in Back Bay at Ethan’s apartment complex. She didn’t want to go to his house in her previous state, guns blazing and emotions all over her place.

Even on the ride on the elevator up to his unit, her stomach is in knots and her heart beats faster than normal. She hasn’t been this nervous about seeing Ethan in a long time, and it dawns on her just how fucked this entire situation is. Why should she be nervous to talk to the man who claims to want to be with her?

Steeling her nerves, Naomi issues three sharp knocks to Ethan’s front door. Approximately 45 seconds pass before the door opens.

“Naomi!” Ethan’s eyes widen when he sees her standing there. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you going to let me in, or should we have this conversation in the hallway?” Naomi asks. Ethan steps aside, widening the door so Naomi can enter. “Thank you.”

The apartment is stale, like Ethan hasn’t opened the windows in a few days. He looks disheveled, the bags under his eyes are extremely pronounced like he hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep.

For lack of a better word, Ethan is a mess. And she wants nothing more than to just...wrap her arms around him and make everything better. But she doesn’t. She keeps her distance.

Ethan shuts the door before turning back to her. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No.”

“Well let’s sit down.”

“No, I think I’d rather stand because I don’t plan on being here long.”

The coldness stuns Ethan. Naomi almost seems indifferent towards him, something he’s never experienced before. It doesn’t go unnoticed that she didn’t bother greeting him warmly, no hug or kiss, no excitement in her voice, nothing.

“I needed to see with my own two eyes that you were alive and well,” Naomi starts. “Because you’ve gone radio silent on me. I know you’ve seen me calling and texting. Your phone works just fine because you picked up a call from Tobias of all people.”

He averts his gaze, ashamed of himself. “I’m sorry, I–”

She holds up a hand, stopping him mid-sentence. Naomi doesn’t believe for one second that he’s apologizing due to actual remorse. “I have spent the entire day wracked with intense worry. I feel like I’ve been turned upside down, and I could barely focus on work. Every time I thought I could be productive, something or someone was there to remind me of you. And then I’d spend more time ruminating over you and your situation, and the fact that you’re ignoring me, and then I’d feel like absolute shit. And earlier today, as I listened to the nurses gossip about you, I realized that this feels so much like your two month sabbatical to the Amazon, and our relationship hasn’t changed at all since then.”

“That’s not true,” Ethan argues.

“It is,” Naomi insists. “One step forward doesn’t mean anything if we end up taking two steps back immediately afterwards. A year and a half later, you’re still holding me at arms length, keeping yourself closed off, ignoring my calls.”

“I don’t mean to do this, to be this way.”

“But you continue to do it, so at this point you have to see it’s a pattern. You won’t even open up and talk to me about this lawsuit that’s being waged against you.”

“I just don’t want you getting needlessly involved.”

“While it’s a noble excuse, it’s complete and utter bullshit. If you think you’re doing something to save my reputation, remember nothing you do will ever top me almost losing my medical license my intern year, and then having a resident face a malpractice lawsuit a few months later. So come on, give me another excuse.”

“I’m doing this for you!”

“How? How could this possibly be for me?”

“Everything I touch becomes tainted!” Ethan snaps. “Because there is something wrong, in which everyone arounds me leaves or dies, or everything falls apart. I don’t have control or autonomy over anything, so yes, the one precious thing in my life, I’m too scared to touch.”

“But I have been right here with you! I was right here in this exact same spot when we worked on Naveen’s case. I sat by your side while we watched over Dolores’s son. I was there when they wheeled your mother into the hospital, and when you took her to rehab. Time and time again, I’ve proven to you that my loyalty is steadfast, and not once have I ever wavered, so you don’t get to stand here and punish me for some unrealized fear. You don’t get to treat me like I’m a passenger in this relationship, if you can even call it that.”

That’s what gives him pause. “Of course this is a relationship.”

“This isn’t a relationship, I am just a woman you sleep with. Occasionally you open up to me, we share a cute moment and promises, and then you clam up and up goes the barriers, and it starts all over again. And every single time, we’re a little bit deeper into this thing we’re in. I’ve shared more, I’ve let myself be more vulnerable with you, emotionally and physically, I’ve deluded myself into thinking ‘This time it’s the real thing,’. And I’m afraid that this is going to be our reality. One day I wake up, 3 years in, tentatively living with you, trying to settle into the pieces of a life I’ve scrounged up with you, and you do this again.”

“I don’t speak on it, and I don’t like to because I try to keep it all together, but you don’t understand the toll it takes on me every time we do this back and forth. I was a train wreck when you quit. I had the trial looming over my head, Landry, a guy I considered one of my closest friends betrayed me in the worst possible way, you weren’t the only person scared of losing Naveen, and I couldn’t even verbalize any of it to you because you slammed a door in my face when I tried to bring it up, and then you left me. And then you did it again, and I spent two months worried that you might not even come home because you could contract the deadly disease you were off fighting. And then you go on national television declaring your relationship status, and you made promises to me on my deathbed that led nowhere, and then finally we make some headway in Hawaii and establish what we have going on, and then I come home to this. So while you say one thing to me, time and time again, your actions say otherwise. It’s clear I’m not a priority.”

This conversation triggers Ethan’s fight or flight response. He doesn’t know where this conversation is headed, but he’s smart enough to know it’s nowhere good.

“Naomi, what are you saying? Spell it out to me like I’m a preschooler.”

“I think we need a break,” Naomi says in one breath, afraid she’ll break if she prolongs this any further. The six words leave a sour taste in her mouth that she has to choke back.

“No,” Ethan’s tone is gruff, and the seriousness almost startled Naomi. “No, we’re not breaking up.”

“From where I’m standing, we already have,” Naomi retorts. “I’m just confirming it.”

Ethan takes one long stride towards Naomi, but she takes a step back. “Look, I am a daft asshole to put it mildly, and I know I have a lot of work to do, but this is by no means a reason for us to break up.” He takes another step forward, and now Naomi is backed up against the door. He tugs her forward, wrapping his arms around her. “I am sorry. I know the words probably sound hollow, but trust me when I say I mean it. I’ll fix this, I’ll do whatever it takes. You’re the only person I want, the only one I’ll ever want, and I’m not losing you. Not now, not ever.”

Through this right embrace, Naomi can feel just how rapidly his heart is beating. He’s scared.

A tear slips from the corner of her eye, and she’s too drained to even wipe it away. “This is reactionary. You’re saying all of this because you’re panicked, but if you meant any of what you just said, it wouldn’t take the threat of a breakup in order to want to change things.”

“It shouldn’t have taken me this long to realize what a fool I’ve been,” Ethan says. He refuses to let go of her, his arms still wrapped so tightly around her petite frame, he almost worries about crushing her.

“I agree.” What does that even mean? She gives him nothing more than that, and Ethan is left to stew in his own doubt and worry. Naomi breaks free of his embrace and presses a palm to his chest, signaling him to give her some space. “But I still think we need some space.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Trust me, I do.”

It becomes hard to breathe. When Ethan woke up this morning, the last thing he expected was Naomi to dump him. “What can I do? Tell me how to fix this. Do you want consistency? Done, I’ll talk to you every single day, multiple times a day. Transparency? Sit down right now, and I’ll explain this entire lawsuit top to bottom. You want proof that I’m never going to up and leave again, you can take my fucking passport. Naomi, I don’t care what I have to do, I will do it, but I will not accept you walking out of that door.”

Naomi inhales deeply, trying to stop a full son from bursting out of her chest. He’s saying all the right things, but at the wrong time. It’s too late now. “I’ve warred with myself all day about this decision. You’re clearly not in the right space to sustain a healthy relationship, and that’s fine. I just need to remove myself from the situation, for my own health and well-being. And I think you need to do the same.”

“So...what? This is it? It’s over?”

“Let’s be honest Ethan, you never gave us the opportunity to begin.” She wants to touch him so badly, reach out a run her hand through his hair or stroke his beard one more time. It takes everything in her to not. “You’re a great doctor, one of the best ones I know, so I really hope you beat this entire lawsuit and I get to see you back at Edenbrook. Take care of yourself, Ethan.

Ethan shakes his head in denial. He refuses to let things end like this, and for her to give him the same cool professionalism she extends to every other coworker.

“Naomi, wait–”

She’s out of his apartment before he can convince her to stay. It doesn’t register until he hears the soft click of her door shutting that she’s actually gone. And another minute passes before the gravity of the situation finally dawns on him.

For the first time in a long time, he’s truly alone.

~v~

Tags: @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest @schnitzelbutterfingers @missmiimiie @stateofgracious @mooons-isabelle @doilooklikeiknow

#playchoices #choices: stories you play #open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #dr. ethan ramsey

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seraphdarlimg · 3 years

Text

wish I were...

after Harry kisses reader, she watches him mesmerized as his ex walks by

‘heather’ by conan gray WARNINGS - ANGST. WORD COUNT - 2,109

A/N: this is the first imagine I’ve ever posted on here hehe. but this most likely will be a 2-3 part mini series of pure angst...so yay!

____________________________________________________________

"My goodness, I can't believe it's been a year and this is how we're celebrating it? " I take a sip from my wine glass with a raised brow towards Harry. We were sat on the floor at the recording studio, having a makeshift little picnic to celebrate a year. A whole year of a beautiful friendship. "Well I thought it'd be fitting, ya know this is where we met and stuff. Look, I even got those Korean chips that you snacked on that day!" I laugh as he comically picks up a chip and places it in his mouth, followed by an exaggerated moan. I try to hide the blush rapidly heating up my face at how much effort he put into this silly thing. It started as a little joke I brought up to him one day when we were having a lazy day, and of course Harry would take it seriously. He planned the little picnic basket after a day in the studio when everyone else left and he had asked me to stay a little longer to help him with lyrics and whatnot. It was a complete surprise and I couldn't help but adore how happy and proud he was setting this up.

"Alright I gotta give it to ya H, you are the bestest friend anyone could ever ask for. I'm just happy that you didn't include those disgusting kale chips of yours." The smile that hasn't left his face drops into a shocked and offended look.

"Hey, you said you wouldn't make fun of my addiction anymore." He scoots closer to me, gently poking my rib to which I immediately jump and swat his hand away. "I'm sorry- I'm sorry!" I giggled when he makes himself comfty sat right next to me.

Subconsciously, I move closer till his shoulder touched mine. "I like this sweater, it's fluffy and keeps people warm." I say, huddling into the fabric that Harry gave me to wear when it got colder. "You know what, I like all your sweaters H, they're all impeccable." He chuckles, "really? It looks better on you than me, bubs." I smile, using the over-sized sleeves to cover my face and faking a groan. "Oh you would with that cliché ass line." "It's true! Beautiful in m'clothes." He mumbles and I had to only respond with gratefully lending my shoulder as a resting spot for his head. Considering he literally had to bend his whole body to do so every time he does this, I never understood how he found this comfortable. We shared a comfortable silence for a minute, sipping on our wine, the bottle nearly finished. The courage coming from it is telling me this would be the perfect time. It's the right setting to finally tell him that my feelings go beyond friendship and that it has been since the first month. The thought made me nervous at first, but there had been so many signs from him that had me thinking he's feeling the same way. Maybe those were just my expectations and how loving Harry is, but every time I look at him, I'm mesmerized. "Honestly don't know what I'd do without you bubs." Harry suddenly says and I snap out of my thoughts to glance down at him staring at his empty glass. My heart started beating fast and my breathe hitched when he pulls away only a few inches away to look back at me "This was a tough year and you've been there with me through it all, haven't been this close to someone in that short of time." He says lowly, looking right into my eyes. I take his hand in my small ones and play with his fingers in comfort, as we reflected on how this was both the best and worst year for him. While he became such a successful solo artist after the band and created the best relationships in his life, he reached a mental low dealing with his own insecurities and went through a breakup that took a major toll on him. They ended on good terms, but Harry went through the aftermath of a loss alone. I came in a month after his break up, hired as a lyricist to help him get out of this creative block but also to help him realize how much he was really worth as a person. It was a gradual slow process of friendship at the start, but it quickly blossomed into becoming best friends, growing feelings in between for me. "You're so good to me, I don't deserve it." He was so close and I couldn't tell if I was leaning in or not. My chest feels like it's bursting. "Harry, you've done so much for me, don't put yourself down like that. You deserve my love, mkay?" He looked so vulnerable, staring into my eyes as I couldn't pinpoint what emotion he was feeling right now. I was always able to read Harry easily, but maybe it was the wine that made it harder to understand what was racing through his mind. I couldn't register it. His lips on mine were foreign but felt right, like they fit perfectly. His hands cupping my face gently made me realize this was actually happening. My best friend who I've loved for so long was finally kissing me. "You absolutely deserve mine... " *** My anxiety was getting the best of me. The party wasn't like any other rowdy and crowded New Year's Eve celebration. It was a gathering of close friends and mutual at a penthouse with just enough drinking and fun shenanigans. I knew all these people and they knew me, yet it wasn't easy to breathe regularly for some reason. I smiled and laughed along with the conversation among the circle of friends I situated myself in with Harry standing to my right, two people in-between us. I anxiously played with my fingers wrapped around a bulbous wine glass, zoned out but somewhat participating with the group. I caught his eyes, both of us giving a smile when he shot me a quick goofy face. His eyes trailed down to my hands, an obvious tell. I respond with a reassuring smile, placing my hand on my chest to which he steps outside and moves to stand next to me. I soften as he places a hand casually on my back, rubbing up and down. The nerves die down a bit. Usually, I would of been full comfortable but it was different now. After the kiss Harry and I shared, nothing had changed as much as I wanted it too. There was still the casual flirting and touchy gestures, but other than that, Harry never brought it up. "Soo, what now?" I had asked him when he dropped me off at my apartment. He gives me a tight smile and takes my hand in his, bringing it to his lips. "Still my best girl." I was confused afterwards, not fully understanding how he felt towards me. "Hey, I kind of wanted to talk to you about yesterday... " I approached him in the studio, his sweater keeping me warm that morning. "Oh yeah, you never told me what you wanted for Christmas. And by the way, I'm gonna need that sweater back sooner or later." He chuckles, going back to writing down chord progressions. Him avoiding the subject made me think he didn't want to talk about it, so I stopped trying. It made me insecure a bit to show him any type of affection back, but I didn't have it in me to tell him when I'm engulfed in his huge frame, feeling safe and happy at the moment. What made me snap out of my thoughts was his hand leaving my back and slipping into his jacket pocket. He then started being part of the funny story Mitch was telling, including his own side and little comedic comments that made the group laugh. As much as it brought a smile to my face, there was nothing more I wanted to do than take his arm, wrap it around me and kiss his cheek before laying my head on his chest. He took a second here and there to glance at me, probably aware how tired i was getting even though it was only a few minutes before midnight. The kiss defiantly affected something here, as much as Harry was trying to show that it hasn't, I can at least appreciate the acknowledgment that he shared similar feelings towards me. Maybe this was him thinking about the possibilities afterwards, knowing Harry wasn't very much a confrontational person and has taken time to learn to process things more logically rather than pure emotional instinct. When he catches me staring and throws a knowing smirk followed by a wink, I melt right on the spot but at the same time, holding back from rolling my eyes. I felt his stare kept on me when I looked away, feeling less frustrated and more understanding of his situation. Maybe I do just need to give him time... When I looked back at him, he was now looking away at something else apart from the group. I didn't give it a second glance till I noticed he was fully distracted before Mitch kept calling his name but getting no response back. Harry was in deep trance at something more fascinating than his friend's story, and when I caught sight of what was distracting him, I fully understood why. She stood out, so it wasn't to hard to point her out. But of course she would, she looks stunning in that dress that happens to only be a different shade of color from mine. The natural glam and brightening smile on her face as she talked to mutual friends perfected her look, but it was the sound of her melodic voice that just set the deal. It was her laughter from across the room that caught his attention first, what made him break his gaze on me to her. My first thought was concern for Harry and if he was suddenly feeling overwhelmed or distraught by her presence after a breakup. But then I looked back at him and only saw longing and adoration. It was a look I only was recently familiarized with. I purse my lips to hide the frown set on my face while I felt my heart beat much faster initially, watching him mesmerized as she walks across the floor to greet more party guests. Her blue eyes wide and shining, most likely something Harry was dying to see once again as he hoped she would turn his way. Is this what hopelessness feels like? Mitch gave up on trying to catch his attention as soon as he realized who Harry was looking at, and so did the rest of the group. But here I was, desperately looking up at him in hopes that he would suddenly break away and meet my own eyes that stood right next to him. "Guys! The count downs about to start!" Someone called out, followed by cheers and applause as everyone slowly started gathering towards the balcony to see the firework show and celebration of the city below. She moves away from the crowd though, choosing to be semi alone next to the aquarium with a glass of martini in her hand. More people started crowding around us, the group disintegrated into a whole, but my focus was on Harry. As much as my anxiety and tiredness was getting worse, it couldn't compare to the ache in my chest when he takes a hesitant step towards her direction. In a second, my hand flies towards his and gently tugs to me in a last ditch of desperation while I softly call out his name. Maybe it was the way he stopped and turned his head slightly before completely pulling away and walking towards her, leaving me engulfed with the crowd alone. Or that I could picture the loving look on his face when she finally sees him approaching and gives him a welcoming smile while the sound of people counting down from 20 is muddled into the background. All I could imagine to hear was his small 'hi' and compliment for how beautiful she looks, knowing how nervous he would be. "3, 2, 1! Happy New Years!" The celebration of those around me drowned out my glossy eyes as I see Heather take Harry's hand in hers, sharing that same complete adoration look on her face that I was only just becoming familiar with.

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part 2 A/N: feedback would greatly be appreciated :)

#harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #one direction #heather #i really listened to this song on loop for 2 hours going through it

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your-nerd-is-showing · 3 years

Text

AOT Armin x Reader Not so Innocent Part one

Content: Smut

Warnings: losing virginity, Jean being an ass, slightly sub Armin, oral sex (giving and receiving), minors not allowed!

Artist Credit @Yuna_s10

TW: almost noncon

After Armin finds out he is a Titan and with the weight of his life being spared over Erwin's he really needs some comfort. You were there to give it to him, ever since that day he has wondered if you had deeper feelings than just friends. Armin kept a journal filled with his deepest desires for you because he is too scared to tell you how he feels. Meanwhile you try to make him jealous but it just makes him upset because he thinks you friend zoned him.

This is a side story between season 3 and 4.

You were out taking a midnight stroll because you couldn’t sleep. You could hear someone crying. “That sounds like Armin.” You said to yourself as you walked in the direction of the cries and found Armin huddled in a dark corner with his back turned to you. You walked over to him and hugged him tightly. “Armin please don’t cry.” You spoke softly as you pulled him in closer.

“(Y/N)?” He wiped his eyes. “W-why are you out so late?”

“I couldn’t sleep so I decided to take a walk. Now tell me what’s wrong Armin.” You said sweetly as you played with his beautiful blonde hair.

He pulled your arms around him more. “I feel so lost (Y/N) ever since Floch said that everyone resents me because my life was spared over Erwin's…. Part of me hates my-myself…. Why? Why did Levi chose me over Erwin? The Commander of the Scouts life is far more v-valuable t-than a m-measly Cadets life….” Armin started to cry again.

“Shhhhhh Armin please don’t cry I hate to see you upset.” You said in a comforting voice but he didn’t stop sobbing. “I don’t think Levi made the wrong decision.”

Armin looked up at you with his big blue eyes. “Y-you don’t?”

You wiped away his tears. “Not in the least bit.” You hugged him closer to you. “I feel like all Erwin did was come up with half-assed plans.”

“What do you mean?”

“Hmmmm well every plan he came up with to take down the Titans failed, but every plan you came up with worked we took down the armored and colossal Titans because of you. You even figured out that Annie was the female Titan. Without that beautiful brain of yours we would all be dead right now Armin. You saved everyone else.” You kissed his cheek making Armin blush. “And for that I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

Armin awoke from his dream. “Every night I have the same dream about that night with (Y/N)…. I can’t get her out of my head…. I…. I think I’m in love with her.” He looked over at you asleep next to him in your sleeping bag he had a smile on his face. “She always sleeps next to me…. Could she feel the same way?” He kept looking at you, his eyes traveled down and stopped at your breasts.

“She’s so beautiful.” He thought to himself, his mind wandered as he watched your nipples become hard. He let out a sigh. “The things I want to do to her.” He could feel his pants become tight. “Armin what are you thinking!? Ugh, but I can’t help it…. I want her so badly…. I, I need to make a move soon before someone else takes her away from me…. I see the way Jean looks at her.”

Armin took out his journal and started to write. ‘I had that same dream again about (Y/N)…. I just can’t stop thinking about her…. All the naughty things I want to do to her…. I just want to bury my face in her big breasts and crotch. I want her so bad…. This isn’t fair….’ Armin let out a sigh.

“Well, I guess I should take care of this growing problem down here….” Armin thought to himself as he quietly pulled down his pants and grabbed his length gently stroking. He bit his lip as he imagined it was you doing this to him. He gazed over at you while he touched himself quickening the strokes. He watched you roll onto your side facing him and your breast popped out of your tank top. His eyes widened as he felt his warm seed seep into his hand. Armin quietly pulled his pants back on and went to wash his hands. He came back and snuggled closer to you.

“Goodnight my sweet angel.” He whispered and kissed your cheek.

You woke up the next morning laying on Armin. You freaked out and scrambled to get up. “Why was I laying on Armin!?” You thought to yourself your cheeks turned red as you stared at him sleeping. “He's so cute when he sleeps.” You smiled at him as you stroked his hair.

“Hey beautiful good morning!” Yelled Jean.

You looked at Jean and smiled. “Why good morning to you too Jean!” You replied happily.

He held out his hand to help you up. “Care to join me for breakfast pretty lady?”

You took Jean's hand. “Sure! I just need to go get dressed.” You grabbed your uniform and headed to the bathroom.

Armin laid there in silence. “Stupid Jean always taking (Y/N) from me…. He takes up most of her time it drives me nuts!” He though to himself. “I feel like she doesn’t even give me the time of day anymore…. Have I been friend-zoned?” He curled up into a ball. “When she does talk to me she treats me like a kid.”

You came back from the bathroom and saw Armin curled up. You walked over to him and were about to comfort him but Jean stepped in the way.

“You ready?” He held out his arm for you to take.

“Oh uh yeah I’m ready…. I just wanted to make sure Armin was okay….”

Jean looked down at Armin. “He’s fine lets go!” He attempted to pull you away.

“I'll catch up with you Jean.” You replied dismissing him.

“But-“

“Jean I said I’ll catch up with you.” You repeated as you knelt down next to Armin.

Jean stormed off.

You rolled your eyes. “What a meathead…. Armin are you okay?” You asked as you stroked his hair.

He closed his eyes and melted as you touched his hair. “I’m better now that you’re here.” He muttered so you didn’t hear him.

“Hm? What did you say Armin?”

“I don’t feel too good.” He replied looking at you with his beautiful blue eyes.

You leaned over to take Armin's temperature and he could see right down your shirt, making his skin get hot. “Well, you are warm. Do you feel sick?” You asked as concern coated your voice.

“Hmmm, maybe I can milk this and have her attention all to myself today.” Armin thought to himself.

“My head is pounding and I have a stomach ache.” He replied in a quiet voice as he clutched his stomach with one hand and his head with the other.

“Well then lets get you some medicine.” You got up and went in your bag to grab herbs and your stone grinder. You lit a small fire to boil water for tea and started to grind the herbs as you sang in a soft voice.

Armin sat there completely entranced by you he loved to listen to you sing. He got lost watching you prepare the medicine. “Come on you dummy now is the perfect time to tell (Y/N) how you feel!” Armin thought to himself.

He went to speak but nothing came out.

You looked over at Armin. “Are you okay sweetie? You’re just starting off into space.” You spoke breaking Armin's thoughts.

“Y-yes I’m fine (Y/N).” He replied his cheeks were red.

You gave him a sweet smile. “The tea is almost ready. You should be feeling better soon!”

“(Y/N) you’re so talented if the Survey Corps didn’t have you as their medic we would be screwed.”

“Awe Armin thank you.” You blushed at the sweet compliment. “I’m thankful my parents were herbalists and passed their wisdom down to me.” You stirred the pot of tea.

“As long as I’ve known you (Y/N) you always had your hands in the dirt studying plants.”

“And if I remember correctly you were always by my side with your hands in the dirt with me studying the plants.” You stuck out your tongue.

“Just like you I love to learn new things.”

You smiled and nodded your head. “I love to learn new things with you, Armin….” Your cheeks turned pink.

“What do you mean?” He asked confused.

“Hm? Oh, n-nothing!”

“Shit, why did I say that?” You thought to yourself. “He doesn’t even get it I honestly don’t think he likes me how I like him.” You let out a sigh as you poured the tea.

“Here you go Armin I added some honey to make it sweet.” You handed him the cup.

“Thank you so much (Y/N)!” He smiled and took the tea. “It smells really good.” He said as he inhaled the steam.

You sat there with Armin enjoying his company.

He smiled at you. “Ahhh this is so nice, being able to spend time with you.”

“What do you mean Armin? We always spend time together.”

“Well yeah we do but it always seems to be interrupted by Jean or someone else….”

“Hey! (Y/N)!” Yelled Jean.

“Speak of the devil….” Muttered Armin.

“Hey Jean!” You waved at him.

“How’s little Armin feeling?” He asked sarcastically.

“A lot better thanks to (Y/N)’s medicine.” He answered back. “She's truly amazing.” He smiled at you.

“Well since you’re feeling better you wouldn’t mind if I borrowed her for a bit would you?” Jean asked as he tugged on your arm attempting to pull you away.

“I think I’m going to stay here with Armin.” You replied pulling your arm away.

“But I really need to talk to you.” Jean kept tugging on you.

You swatted his hand away. “Jean I said no! Now leave me alone!” You turned away dismissing him.

“What the fuck.” He muttered under his breath and stormed off.

“That idiot just doesn’t give up its so annoying sometimes.” You growled.

“But don’t you like the attention?” Armin asked.

“Not from him…. He’s not the guy I want attention from.” You sighed.

“Who do you want attention from?”

“W-well uh I-“

“Hey (Y/N)!” Yelled Eren as he came running over to you.

“Hey Eren! What’s up?”

“Levi needs to talk to you he’s in his office he said it’s important.”

“Oh okay!” You got up to leave.

Later that day you were going through Armin's stuff because you wanted something that smelled like him and you came across his journal. “Hm? Armin keeps a journal? Let’s see what secrets he keeps in here.” You opened the journal and started to look through the pages. You noticed the journal started the night you found Armin crying outside and most of the entries were about you. Your eyes widened as you read about all the naughty things he wanted to do to you.

“Sweet little Armin isn’t so innocent after all oh my goodness. He wants to tie me up and lick honey off my naked body?!” You kept scanning through the pages. “Oh this is a good one make love out in nature under the stars. Heh even when he is writing dirty things he still makes it sound romantic.” Your skin was getting hot and you were getting extremely turned on reading about what he wanted to do to you. “Ohhhhh Armin what am I going to do with you?” You laughed. “Well that was a rhetorical question….. I want to do everything to you.” You got up and went to go find him.

“Oh my sweet Armin I can’t wait to make you mine!” You made your way through the city, suddenly you were blindsided by someone and knocked to the ground. “What the hell!? Jean what are you doing!?” You tried to push him off of you but it was no use.

“(Y/N) you’re such a god damn tease!” He yelled as he ripped your shirt open. “Why? Why do you do this to me? You know I like you I’ve been trying so damn hard to make you my girl but no stupid Armin always gets in the way!” He kept shouting as he ripped your pants off.

“Jean! STOP! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO ME!?” You punched him in the face but it didn’t phase him in the least bit, he just grabbed your wrists and held you down. “Jean I don’t even like you like that! I’M IN LOVE WITH ARMIN! I HAVE BEEN SINCE I WAS A CHILD! I was just flirting with you to make him jealous!”

“NO! I’m in love with you!” He shouted back as he choked you. “No one can have you but me!”

You started to get light-headed. “J-Jean I-I c-can't b-breathe.” Your vision was getting blurry. Suddenly someone pulled Jean off of you. All you could make out was blonde hair before you passed out.

Armin tore Jean off of you. “How dare you put your hands on her like that! You disgusting pig!” Armin continuously punched him in the face. “If you ever so much as look in her direction.” He pulled his fist back. “I will tear you to shreds!” Armin punched him one final time knocking Jean unconscious.

Armin ran over to you. “(Y/N)! (Y/N)! Please wake up!” He shook you but you didn’t respond to him. He scooped you up and jumped into the window of a inn. Armin ran over to the door and put a chair against it to keep it locked. He came back over to you and put his head on your chest. “Well she’s still breathing thank goodness.” He sat there staring at your half naked body. “This is so unfair. She is literally being handed to me….” He felt his pants starting to get tight he reached out his trembling hand to grope your breast but he stopped himself. “But I know I’m friend-zoned….” He curled into a ball.

You started to wake up. “Armin?” You spoke in a quiet voice as you reached out your hand towards him.

“(Y/N)?” Armin looked down at you. “You’re okay!” He hugged you tightly.

“What happened? Last I remember Jean was trying…. Trying to…. To….” You shuddered as you recalled what Jean just tried to do to you and started to sob.

Armin pulled you in closer to him. “Shhhhh it’s okay stupid Jean won’t ever hurt you again (Y/N).” He ran his fingers through your soft (H/C) hair as he pulled you into his lap.

You turned about eight shades of red as you felt a bulge poke at your butt as he sat you on his lap. “Armin?” You looked at him as your skin got hot.

“Yes (Y/N)?” He replied. “Why are you so warm?”

“Armin I…. I….” You started.

“Yes?”

“I…. I…. Awe fuck it!” You yelled as you tackled Armin and kissed him.

Armin was momentarily taken aback and stunned by the sudden kiss. He pulled away, his face as red as a tomato. “(Y-Y/N-N) wh-what? B-but I…. I thought I was friend-zoned?”

You looked at him shocked. “Is that why you’ve been so distant? Awe Armin sweetie no you’re not friend-zoned at all.” You pushed him down onto the bed and straddled him. “In fact, it’s the exact opposite…. Armin….. I’m in love with you.” You leaned in and kissed his neck, a small moan escaped his lips. “I’ve been in love with you as long as I can remember Armin….”

“R-really?”

“Yes Armin really.” You repeated as you pressed your body closer to his. “And I found your journal…. You certainly write a lot about me….” You lightly nibbled his neck making Armin moan again.

“(Y-Y/N-N) wh-what are you doing?” He shuddered beneath you as you nibbled at his neck again.

“Oh don’t you play innocent with me Armin I know that you’re far from that.” You gave him a look as you gently grinded on him. “I know how much you want me.” You leaned in and kissed him again.

Armin trembled as he wrapped his arms around your neck pulling you in closer to him. He moaned against your lips as you bucked your hips against his growing bulge.

You took the opportunity and instantly invaded his mouth with your tongue kissing him deeply.

He wined as you quickened the motions. “(Y/N) it's, it's starting to hurt.”

You looked at him confused. “What is?”

He turned even redder. “My, my growing problem d-down there.”

“Awe sweetie do you want me to help you?” You cooed.

Armin bit his lip and nodded.

“Very well my love.” You got off of his lap and slowly pulled off just his pants. You crawled back up his body just to be tackled to the bed by him.

Armin rolled you onto your stomach and held your wrists as he started to hump you. Little whimpers escaped your lips as his length gently caressed your butt. He let go of your wrists and held onto your waist as he quickened the pace. “Am, am I doing a good job (Y/N)?” He asked shyly.

You moaned louder and nodded your head. “Ah-ahhhhh yes Armin you’re doing a g-great jobbbb!” You wined out as you gripped the blankets.

He leaned in and ran sweet little kisses down the back of your neck. “(Y/N) I love you so much…. I, I can’t believe this is really happening right now…. I’ve dreamt about this day for so long and finally, you’re mine.” He cooed. “How did I get so lucky? I finally get my sweet angel.” He reached down and unhooked your bra. He got off of you and rolled you back over to face him. His eyes grew wide in wonder as he removed your bra staring at your perfect body and breasts. “You truly are beautiful (Y/N).” He leaned in and kissed your neck slowly tracing your collarbone with his lips as he traveled down towards your breasts. He gazed at you his eyes filled with excitement as he gently rolled your nipple between his fingers while his mouth encircled your other nipple. He licked and nipped at your nipple as he grinded on you.

“Ah-ahhhhh A-Ar-Armin.” You wined out as his bulge rubbed against you. Your hips bucked wildly out of control every time he made contact, soaking your underwear.

He looked up at you with his beautiful blue eyes. “Yes (Y/N)?” He asked.

“Every little touch is driving me crazy Armin…. I…. I’m going mad right now…. Please Armin I…. I want you in the worst way….”

His eyes widened in shock as those words left your lips. “W-wa-wait are you saying what I-I think you’re saying (Y/N)? D-do you want me to, to take you?” He stammered looking at you shyly.

You blushed and nodded your head. “Yes Armin I am.”

He got off of you and sat on the bed.”Woah hold on a minute th-this is a big decision…. Are you absolutely sure.”

“Is it really Armin? By the way you write about me in your journal, it doesn’t seem that way…. Don’t you want to experience everything life has to offer?”

“I…. I…. I… well that’s writing in a journal I thought no one was going to find…. I never thought this was going to actually happen.”

“Armin.” You took his hands in yours. “It’s written all over your journal that you’re in love with me…. I have known you my entire life I have seen you at your worst I have seen you at your best…. I know you better than anyone else…. I was your friend before Eren and Mikasa knew you…. Armin, I’m in love with you also. I want to spend the rest of our lives together.” You leaned in and kissed his cheek.

He took a deep breath in. “I have no idea what I would even be doing….” He glanced between you and him a smile formed on his lips as he gazed at you. “But if you really want this then….” He pinned you to the bed and nipped at your neck, taking you by surprise. “I am willing to pleasure you my love.” He traced his lips down your torso showering your stomach in sweet kisses. He pulled down your underwear looking on in wonder. “Tell me what do you want me to do to you?”

“I-I want you to rub my clit.” You propped your legs on the bed and opened your lips with your fingers revealing your soaking wet core.

He took his fingers and massaged your clit making you squirt all over his hand. He continued to rub as he took is other hand and gently plunged a finger inside you.

“Ohhhhhh A-Arminnnn!” You moaned out as you gushed again, he pulled his finger out and innocently licked your juices off looking like a child licking cake batter.

He smiled at you before plunging face-first into you. He grabbed your hips and attacked your clit with his tongue as he pulled you in closer to him.

You gently gripped his soft hair, tugging on it with every flick of his tongue. Licking, sucking, nibbling Armin couldn’t get enough of your sweet taste he wanted to eat you up. You bucked your hips as you felt yourself gush into his mouth, Armin licked up every last drop.

He looked up at you and smiled. “Are you enjoying this my love?” He asked wanting reassurance.

“A-Armin.” You said panting. “Y-you're doing an amazing job.” You sat up and leaned in to kiss him. Locking lips you kissed him passionately as you lowered yourself onto his lap. You slowly started to move your hips rubbing your clit on his member, earning sweet little moans from Armin. You broke the kiss tracing your lips down his neck leaving love bites all over his collar bones. You made your way down his torso kissing right above his waistband. You locked eyes with Armin as you pulled down his underwear, revealing his rock hard member. Your smile grew wider as you gently took his length in your hand, little whimpers of excitement escaped Armin's lips as you ran your hands up and down his shaft.

“O-oh-ohhhhhhh (Y-Y/N-N) this f-feels even b-better t-th-than I ever i-im-imagined!” He tilted his head back as he moaned louder and louder.

You lowered your mouth to his pulsing length wrapping your lips around it, ever so lightly licking the precum off his tip. Slowly you started to suck running your tongue along his shaft.

He gently tugged at your hair as he watched your head bob up and down, his hips bucking with every lick. “Ahhhh (Y/N) I’m going to….. I’m going to c-cu-cummmmm!” He moaned as you took his length in its entirety down your throat he released his seed, but you didn’t stop sucking and almost instantly he became hard again.

You released yourself from him. “Let’s get back on the bed where it’s more comfortable.” You helped Armin up and tackled him to the bed, grinding on him making yourself squirt everywhere. You continued to rub your soaking slit all over his size, driving him crazy. “A-are you ready my sweet Armin?”

He looked at you shyly. “Yes, I am.”

You shifted your hips and positioned yourself right at his tip, you leaned in kissing him as you slid down on his member. You yelped into his mouth as you felt a pop.

Armin broke the kiss. “Are you okay?” He asked his voice drenched in concern.

You smiled at him and nodded. “Yes, I am perfectly fine my love.” You leaned in kissing him again as you rocked your hips back and forth. You held onto his shoulders as you quickened the pace, feeling him go deeper and deeper with every thrust. “Ohhhh A-Ar-Aminnnnn j-just like that oh my-my God!” You screamed out.

Armin was in complete sync with you, every time you came down he thrusted into you. “Ohhhhh (Y-Y/N-N)!” He moaned out as he grabbed your butt spreading your cheeks to go deeper into you. Soon he was pounding you wildly. He couldn’t get enough of you as he ran his hands over every inch of your body, caressing your soft skin. He looked at you with amazement as he watched you ride him. “I-I still can’t believe this is-is really h-happening.” He smiled at you.

“Ar-Armin I’m, I’m go-going to cummmmm!” You arched your back as your walls clenched around Armin's length releasing yourself. Toes curling, hips bucking you rode out your first orgasm.

“(Y/N)? Can we try another position?” He asked shyly his cheeks turning bright red. “I-I want to be in control.”

“Of course my love” You got off and stood in front of him.

He gazed at you completely captivated by your beauty. “My, my, my you are a sight to behold my beautiful (Y/N).” Getting up from the bed he walked over to you, he tugged your waist as he pulled you in kissing you deeply. His hands made their way down your torso, gently he cupped your butt as he pressed his length against you, sweet whimpers escaping your lips. His tongue danced with yours as he backed you into a wall. He soon broke the kiss, trailing his lips down your neck, between your breasts down to your soaking core. He got on his knees. “Wrap your legs around my shoulders…. I want to try something.”

“But how is this going to work?”

He placed his hands on your butt for support. “Trust me it will.” He pushed you into the wall more as you lifted one leg over his shoulder than the other one. He adjusted accordingly to make sure you were stable on his shoulders. Armin brought one of his hands forward and spread your lips so he could dive back into your core. He ate you up like a hungry animal, licking every bit of your juices.

Your body shook as Armin swirled his tongue around your clit. “A-ahhhhh Ar-Arminnnnn!” You grabbed his hair, pushing his face into you more as you gushed into his mouth. Slowly he inserted two fingers moving them in and out of you. He quickened the pace as he nibbled on your clit rendering you a drooling mess as your walls clenched around his fingers, earning another orgasm from you.

He came up and lifted you off his shoulders, but kept you pinned to the wall. He pressed himself closer to you as he raised you up again, you wrapped your legs around his waist. Instantly his member slipped back inside you, moaning out he thrusted into you. “I love you so much(Y/N)!” He roared as he pounded deeper and deeper in you.

“I-I l-love you toooooo Armin!” You howled as you bounced wildly with every thrust. You grabbed his head attacking his lips kissing him deeply as he went faster. You moaned into his mouth as you gushed again soaking the floor below you.

Armin broke the kiss looking at you his cheeks were bright red. “(Y-Y/N-N) I’m, I’m going to c-cu-cum a-again.” He pulled out barely in time his seed exploding all over your stomach.

Panting heavily the two of you collapsed on the floor wrapped up in each other’s arms. You smiled at Armin and pulled him in for a long sweet kiss.

He broke the kiss. “(Y/N) t-that was a-amazing!” He said as he nuzzled into your neck.

You sat there playing with his soaking wet hair. “Mhmmmmm it truly was amazing Armin.”

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wwilloww · 4 years

Text

cliff diving pt. 3 | kth (m)

genre: fluff. smut. nonidol!au. camping!au.

pairings: Taehyung | Reader

rating: 18+. NSFW. Explicit.

word count: 6.4k

warnings: cursing. talk of sex. skinny dipping. spooning. grinding. dirty talk. hair pulling. public nudity. public sex. oral sex (f giving and recieving). slight exhibitionism. unprotected sex (okay guys, you know the drill, wrap it before you tap it). creampie.

summary: Every year as soon as the weather warms up, your friends haul ass out of the city to the mountains where you camp and hike in the shadow of giant rocks and ancient evergreens—and now apparently jump off of cliffs for fun. This time, an innocent round of truth or dare inspires you and Tae to play a mischievous game without getting caught by your friends.

a/n: THE FINAL CHAPTER. Who woulda thunk this piece would end up so long. Thank you so much to everyone who helped with this series, especially the always lovely @ot7always, who beta read the final chapter. This has been my baby for the past month, so if you’ve enjoyed it, it would absolutely make my day to hear from you!

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©️WWILLOWW DO NOT TRANSLATE, REPOST, OR COPY MY WORK

Chapter Three

“The fire is dying down faster than I thought,” Jungkook frowns as he pokes the dwindling flames with a stick.

You had long since dried off from your swim and now the five of you were huddled around the fire, laughing and exchanging stories. It almost seemed normal. Almost as if nothing had changed. Taehyung kept a respectable distance from you, knowing Jin was periodically glancing over at the two of you.

“I’ll grab some more firewood from the car,” you say, standing up from your chair and placing your steaming mug of tea on the ground.

As you walk away from the fire and the distraction of your friends, you finally have a moment to breathe and reflect. Within your chest, you feel as if you are being split in two. Your heartbeat echoes through your body, unrelenting in its pace. Now that you know he wants you, a floodgate has opened, pumping elation and excitement through your veins with each beat of your heart. Yet, something akin to shame sings beneath your skin, turning your cheeks red and pressing your nails into the skin of your palm. What if you had taken things too far?

In the heat of the moment, it hadn’t felt wrong. He had melted into your body like he belonged there. You’d never been kissed like that before, kissed like he knew you, like he understood every curve and desire of your body. You run your finger over your lips, the lower one still pink and swollen from Taehyung’s ministrations.

It was the most natural thing to allow him to wrap himself around you, and yet, you feel frozen at the thought of what could possibly lay beyond this.

“Tae, why don’t you help her?” Jin suggests, his gaze flickering between the two of you as you near the edge of camp. “Bring enough back for hot water in the morning.”

Taehyung’s mouth opens and closes, before he mutters a hurried, “Sure,” and rises from his chair to follow after you, jogging to catch up. You smile up at him when he comes to your side.

The car is parked a short distance away from the campsite, short enough you’re not worried about lugging piles of wood back and far enough that you’re not concerned anyone will overhear you.

“Do you think Jin saw anything?” Taehyung snickers in your ear.

You giggle.

“No, I think he would have said something if he did.”

“And what would he say?”

“Ah...um,” you flounder, smiling up at Taehyung’s grinning face as you reach the car. “Don’t be stupid?”

Suddenly large hands are firm on your waist and Tae spins you around, your back hitting the metal of the car.

He’s close. Awfully close. He presses you up against the car, his chest pushed to yours.

“Is it stupid?”

“I, uh—” Your eyes widen as he stares down at you, unmoving, a look of curiosity flashing across your face.

“Is it?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, eyes tracing the slight pout to his lips, a delicious pink. “Yeah, it’s pretty stupid.”

He reaches up to tug on a strand of hair that’s fallen loose from your messy bun. It’s a familiar gesture—one that he’s done for years—but now it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Why’s that?”

“You, mister, are pushing your luck,” you say, avoiding the question. “The others are right over there.” As much as you want to reach up and pull him against you, there is a lingering tension that what you’re doing is dangerous, risky. So instead of wrapping your arms around his neck, you push gently against his chest and grin up at him as he leans closer to you. The all-too-familiar habit of teasing one another, mixed with the novelty of the warmth of his hands against your skin—the combination sucks the air right out of your lungs.

“Would this be pushing my luck?” He leans down towards you, stopping only when his lips are an inch away and his gaze is locked on yours.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Because I kind of want to push it.”

Your heart all but stops. Your body is screaming for this. All you can think of is the way he felt against you earlier, the way you didn’t need to think of anything else with him wrapped around you, the way nothing mattered except for keeping him close.

Fuck it, you think.

“Then push it,” you breathe, closing the distance between you two.

There is a moment when all you can feel is the pillowy plush of his lips. However, the spell is quickly broken as he nips your bottom lip gently between his teeth and you gasp. His lips are feverish as he presses against you, pulling you as tightly to him as he can. Palms spread wide against your back, dark curls tickling your forehead, his breath heavy against your mouth.

“Taehyung,” you breathe against his lips, tightening the grip you have around his waist. But instead of leaning into you like you had wanted him to, he’s pulling back, his irises blown wide, lips slightly swollen.

“Do you really think this is stupid?”

You pause for a moment, searching his gaze.

“I don’t want to—”

Your sentence is cut short as you hear footsteps quickly approaching. Taehyung steps back from you just as Jimin jogs into view.

“Do you guys need any help?”

“Yeah, that would be great,” Taehyung beams as he opens up the trunk to hand Jimin a pile of firewood. Taehyung hands you an almost too-large stack and smiles softly at you before turning and heading back to camp.

I don’t want to get hurt, you finish internally as you watch his tall frame silhouetted against the campfire. I don’t want to lose you.

That night, you lie awake without Tahyunge’s hands on you. Jin and Jimin had stayed up, whispering who knows what to each other around the campfire. Taehyung, seemingly wary of their lingering gaze, had become unusually shy, averting his gaze from you and instead focusing on your other friends.

After you climb into the tent, Taehyung quickly falls fast asleep, clear by the even pace of his breath and the slackness in his jaw. But even after Jin and Jimin crawl into their sleeping bags and settle down for the night, you lie wide awake.

You wonder if you should reach over, if you should roll just a little closer to him. You’ve never craved someone’s touch like this. You’ve never let the thought of someone wrap so devastatingly around your mind. If only he would fucking wrap himself around me.

You hold back a groan, split in half between sexual and emotional frustration.

Through the mesh in the tent, you can see the stars blinking down at you. This far out in the mountains, the stars sing with a strength and clarity you don’t get to see anywhere else. Looking up at them, you feel so very small.

Could there be beauty in this kind of smallness? The quickness of your life, like dew on a rose—magnifying and drawing attention to the color it exists upon, only resting for a moment before the day begins—doesn’t that smallness, in the same moment it may make your life feel insignificant, make it all the more precious?

You close your eyes and feel your breath wash through you.

This smallness—this insignificance—this all-consuming feeling—is precious to you.

This thing with Taehyung—you aren’t quite sure how else to describe it—scares you. As you look in on the feelings that rise in you, as you look forward to that which is still to come, all you know is that you don’t know. And then it strikes you.

In looking over the sharp edge at a dark unknown, there is an indescribable—but undeniable—beauty. To take that step? To take that risk? In that moment you realize that it is not what waits on the other side, but the act of stepping into empty air, the act of jumping, that is what holds the mystifying beauty of life. This is the thing that takes the smallness of a single moment and stretches it as large as a lifetime.

Knowing this makes the decision for you. You roll over on your side and nuzzle into Taehyung’s chest. The mix of his familiar musk—the perfect combination of juniper and his signature cologne, a little faded from the mix of campfire and coffee grounds, eases the tight feeling in your chest. Just enough.

Sleep comes quickly. As that dark shore approaches, you feel a large and gentle hand wrap tightly around your waist.

You wake with a start to Tae shaking you gently.

Your eyes widen and you open your mouth to say something but he covers it with a large hand and places a finger over his lips.

“I want to show you something,” he whispers. “Will you come with me?” You nod, a sleepy smile spreading across your features as you rub the night out of your eyes. With one hand he holds out your bathing suit, which you quickly, but confusedly, slip on. Despite all the times that you two had changed in front of one another, he averts his gaze like he had yesterday.

It’s still dark outside as you crawl as quietly as possible over the piles of clothes and sleeping bags in your shared tent, doing your very best to not wake the others.

As Tae unzips the tent, you hear a groan and the ruffling of nylon behind you.

“Tae—?” Jimin’s sleep-fogged voice cuts through the darkness. He’s barely lifted his head but he’s staring directly at the two of you, eyes narrowed and heavy with sleep.

“Shh, Jiminie,” Tae sings, his voice like a lullaby. “Go back to sleep.”

“Okay.” Jimin lets his head fall back. You breathe a sigh of relief. As you climb out of the tent and slip your shoes on, you find something warm and tingly spreading through your chest: excitement.

As you take in the dark shadow of the mountains against the lightening backdrop of the sky, Tae wraps himself around your back, arms coming around to settle securely by your collarbone.

“I love how you’re keeping quiet for me,” he whispers, and the words shoot straight through your body. “I wonder what else you’ll do if I ask.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice and you fight the habit to shy away from his attention. He bends down, his hair brushing your cheek so that his mouth ghosts over the junction between your throat and your shoulders. It’s just enough sensation to raise goosebumps all over your body.

But it’s not enough.

You shiver, and he takes that opportunity to nip at the sensitive skin of your neck. You let out the quietest of moans and can feel his lips turn to a grin against your skin. Just as you’re about to turn into him, to press your lips against his, he’s pulling away and the serious, gentle Taehyung is replaced by the smirking, devilish version.

He gives you a boxy grin and takes off towards the water, ripping off his shirt as he goes.

You don’t hesitate before following him.

The two of you paddle out to the middle of the lake at an easy pace. Taehyung undoubtedly has a competitive streak, and while that shines through in many of his interactions, his desire for companionship is what takes over in the quiet moments. The people he cherishes most in his life are those who he can sit with in comfortable silence.

You swim in silence as rose-colored streaks and white fluffy clouds slowly paint the dark sky. The only sound is that of the water parting for you and the first measures of bird song.

You’re used to early morning swims with Taehyung and your friends, it being one of your favorite forms of exercise. But this feels different. As the mountains loom above you and gold ripples of dawn shimmer on the surface of the water, there is a sacred weight—anticipation—that hangs within this moment.

You fall into this beauty, focusing on the way your breath creates a pattern in the sounds of the world. It’s so easy to fall into this charm that you slow your pace down to a crawl, lifting your head out of the water to take in the view.

Suddenly, you’re tugged back as strong arms grab you from behind and you squeal in surprise.

“Thought I lost you for a minute there,” he sings as your surprise turns into laughter. “It’s this way.”

And just like that, his touch is lost and he’s paddling away again. You follow behind him, watching the way the muscles of his back ripple as he glides through the water. You realize he’s leading you towards a spot in the lake where the shores press together, creating a narrow inlet. The water is still deep as you swim into it, tall evergreens rising above, casting deep shadows onto the small swells of the lake.

You see a shore quickly approaching and quicken your stroke to catch up to him. When you do, you smirk to yourself and launch yourself onto his back, shoving his head underwater in the process. He sputters but quickly straightens up, a deep laugh echoing through his chest. You are still clinging like a koala to him, and he sucks in a large breath before throwing the both of you back into the water.

Everything goes quiet.

A low thrum echoes through your skull, the sound of water—lots of water, humming low and deep. You let go of Taehyung just as he spins towards you, your eyes opening in the clear lakewater. Your hands grip the strength of his shoulders as he faces you and time seems to slow down—the dark locks of his hair flow freely in the current, forming a halo that dances around his sharp features. And despite the shadows cast by the looming evergreens above the surface, his skin seems to glow in the tide of snowmelt and sunrise.

All too soon, your lungs begin to ache for air and you kick up towards the surface, letting Taehyung pull you along with him towards the shore.

Here, the lake is shallow enough to stand. His hands are firm on your hips as he turns you towards him, pressing you to his torso.

There’s a hungry look in his eyes and he licks his lips as his gaze locks on yours.

“Why do you do that?” you blurt, your words sounding harsh, like they could break the stillness of the morning. That same fear is rushing over you, the dread of looming disaster.

“I—” his eyes catch yours as his eyelashes flutter. “I want to.” He blushes, suddenly shy. “I want to kiss you. Can I—?”

“Please,” is all you can force out.

His lips come to meet yours. Unlike your last kisses, this one is gentle. You press against his lips, letting your hands glide up his torso to rest on his chest. The kiss is soft, slow, and you can feel him breathing steadily beneath your hands, even as his grip around your waist grows tighter.

His hands trace their way up your sides to cradle your head between his large hands. The gentleness with which he holds you—the tenderness with which he kisses you—

“I don’t understand,” you manage to whisper against his lips.

He pulls back, a puzzled look on his face.

“What don’t you understand?”

“You. This.” Your instinct is to look away, but instead you hold his gaze, making the decision to turn away from your shyness, from the fear that bubbles up in your throat. He’s holding you close to his body and his chest rises and falls evenly, his eyes focused intently on you as you speak. “Like, is this a one-time thing? Is this just us messing around? Is this a friends thing?”

He laughs. “I don’t usually treat my friends like this.”

“Jimin will be disappointed to hear that,” you giggle.

“No, I’m serious.” His brow furrows and he bites his lip. “I like you. Maybe that’s stupid, like you said. Maybe this is stupid.” He gestures between the two of you. “But I’m willing to take that risk if you are. And I don’t know… it probably requires a longer conversation but I’d like this to be a more than friends thing.” He smiles softly at you. “If… if that’s what you want too.”

“I don’t want to be friends with you,” you state.

“Good. I have absolutely no interest in being friends with you either,” he grins.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you smile back softly. He nods his consent and you lean in.

It starts slow, tender.

His hands come up to draw against your sides and you shudder at the delicacy of his touch.

However, any sense of delicacy quickly disappears as you tangle your hands in his hair, loving the way the silky strands tangle around your fingers as if even the smallest details about him are begging you to come closer. Noticing the way his grip on you tightens as you run your fingers against his scalp, you take a guess and tug just enough to elicit a rough, graveled moan from him.

“You like that?” you ask.

“God, yes.”

Your grip tightens around his dark strands and you ever so gently build up the pressure in your wrist until his face is flushing and he’s tilting into your touch, leaving his neck exposed.

You pepper kisses softly down from his lips to his neck, where you nip and bite at the delicate skin. Between your ministrations on his neck and the firm hand you have in his hair, he’s putty in your hands.

However, his compliance doesn’t last long. He seemingly regains his senses and he slips his knee between yours, your center meeting his thigh. He presses up, applying a warm and heavy pressure just where the tension is building. Just as you’re starting to move your hips against his leg, he stops. You whine, chasing his touch. Although he smirks down at your pout, his next words are soft.

“You’re freezing,” he murmurs.

“I’m fine,” you say, reaching for his lips.

“No, you’re shaking.” He takes a step back. “Let’s get you out of the water. I know exactly how to warm you up.” He sends you a wink.

Despite how heated Taehyung has made you feel, he’s right. Your fingers are white and a chill has sunk deep into your bones, leaving you shivering.

He wraps an arm around your shoulders and leads you to the shore, guiding you over the slick rocks of the shallows.

“This way,” he says, taking your hand and leading you alongside one of the rivers that feeds the lake. It’s shallow but wide, and he helps you balance as you step over the river rocks. It’s only a minute or so of walking before you hear the sound of rushing water. As you turn the corner, you find the source of it.

Water tumbles down from a height of twenty or thirty feet, falling into a crystal blue pool. Steam rises off the pool and as you move closer, you realize it’s… warm?

You jog towards the hot spring, slipping a little as you do so.

“Hey! Be careful!” Taehyung calls from behind you, but you don’t slow down. You only slow once you reach the edge of the water, dipping your toe in to test the temperature. Reassured, you wade into the water, sighing at the comforting warmth.

Once you’re in deep enough, you submerge your entire body, allowing the heat of the water to ease some of the coldness out of your limbs. You hold your breath for as long as you can before emerging, pushing your hair back. You sigh, deep and long, as your body warms and replaces the chilled tint of your skin with a gentle flush. After a minute, you open your eyes to see Taehyung standing, waist deep, just watching you. The corner of his lip is twitched up in the smallest ghost of a smile.

“You’re beautiful when you’re relaxed,” he says.

“Thanks.” You flush at the compliment.

“Aren’t you going to tell me I’m pretty too?”

You break into laughter and he dives beneath the water, swimming away from you and towards the shore. You follow after him.

“Was this the only thing you had in mind to warm me up?” you tease, coming to press up against his back, wrapping your arms around his torso.

“What? Is my secret hidden hot spring not good enough for you?”

“No, it’s perfect. I just… thought there might be a quicker way to warm up.”

He grins at you as you plop down onto the shore, wringing the water out of your hair. He comes to sit in front of you, kneeling between your legs.

“Did you now?” Tae grabs one of your legs, pulling it into his lap. He begins to massage your calf, hoping to bring some blood flow back to your limbs. “Something like this?”

“Something like this,” you repeat back to him, a slow smile spreading across your features. His fingers are lithe and nimble and somehow move in beautiful circles while still digging deep into the muscle. He had always done this for you after a long day of climbing, but with your legs spread and lips still swollen from his teeth, his touch takes on a different, blossoming meaning.

“God, that feels good,” you groan, your body relaxing under his touch.

“How good?” He bites his lip.

“Good enough that I want you to keep going.”

He begins to move up your leg, reaching your thigh before stopping to massage the fleshy bits of your body. His touch unravels the coldness from your blood and releases the tension from your early morning swim. It’s now your turn to melt into his hands and he takes note of this, leaning forward to meet your lips.

The kiss is light, but his hands dig deeper, moving upwards and closer to the edge of your swim bottoms.

He releases you with one hand to push the still-dripping hair out of his eyes. He catches you watching him and reaches out to cup your chin.

“You know, when you want something your eyes widen, adorably.” He runs his thumb over your lower lip. “And your lips part…” your blush deepens as his gaze becomes more intense. “...when you look at me. I’ve always noticed that. Noticed it the first time I met you.”

“You—you knew this whole time?”

“No, I thought that was just you—you being you. But now, knowing it’s just me,” he grins.

“It isn’t just you,” you say defensively.

“Isn’t it?”

You meet his gaze.

“Maybe.”

“I’ll take it.”

He leans forward to kiss you, his hand meeting your inner thigh again. His large fingers skate around the edge of your swimsuit. You’re so on edge after days of teasing that the simple gesture has you gasping against his mouth.

“Fuck, Tae, if you don’t touch me now I… well I don’t know what I’ll do.”

He shoots you one of his classic boxy grins. “Don’t be so dramatic,” he says as he sits back on his heels and walks his fingers towards the edge of your swimsuit, brushing the pad of his thumb over the fabric. You arch into his touch. After so much build up you’re overly sensitive. With one finger, he toys with the edge of the fabric and the swell of your lower lips, tracing around them. “You know I’ll always give you whatever you want. Especially when you look like this.”

He shoves your swimsuit to the side.

“So pretty and pink for me,” he murmurs. He draws his index finger up and down your folds. The touch is simple but it draws a whine from you.

His eyes shoot upwards to meet yours.

“Do that again.”

“Make me.”

He grins and slides your swimsuit down your legs and tosses it off to the side. Without breaking eye contact, he lowers his head to your glistening lips, using his hands to spread you wider for him.

“Take your top off,” he commands. “I want to see all of you.”

As you make quick work of slipping your swim top off, he kisses gently down your thigh, watching your tits come free and harden against the crisp morning air. And then his lips are pressed against you, warm and plush. He sends a stiff flick to your clit, sending sparks straight up your spine. Your head falls back, mouth hanging open.

“Tae, you feel so good.”

You can feel his lips curl into a smile against you.

His tongue laves over your cunt rhythmically, drawing some kind of beautiful pattern. You can’t help but grind against his mouth, pushing your hips up towards him. When his tongue dips into your entrance you cry out. He groans against your lips, sending vibrations through you. As he builds a steady pace you find your orgasm hurtling towards you, crashing into your body before you can warn him. You gasp, hands shooting out to grab onto whatever you can.

“Good girl,” he whispers against you, unrelenting in his pace.

As you reach down to push the hair away from his eyes, you notice his hips moving. He’s thrusting into his own hand with the same rhythm as his tongue.

Something about the unrestrained desire in his movements, the sight of him chasing his own pleasure, has you clenching again and he smirks against you. You can feel his lips curl.

“C’mere, baby,” you murmur, trying to pull him up. “Let me take care of you.”

The two of you switch positions, him leaning back against his elbows and you on your belly in the grass between his thighs. The position is almost casual, as you kick your feet up behind you. But any portrait of innocence is broken when you pull his swim shorts down. His length springs free, already hard and slapping against the taut skin of his belly.

“God, you have a beautiful cock,” you gape, reaching out to wrap your hand around it gently.

He chokes at that.

“Well I’ve never heard that one before.”

“It’s true. So pretty and flushed.” You trace your finger over the prominent vein and grin when his cock twitches in your hand. “Ooh, sensitive.”

“I appreciate your curiosity, babe, but god, please, touch me.”

“I am.”

“More,” he begs.

You smirk up at him as you take your time leaning down and wrapping your lips around the head of his cock. He tastes salty and a little bitter. You run your tongue along the underside, using a hand to cover whatever isn’t in your mouth before pulling him fully inside. You begin a slow but punishing pace, bobbing up and down on his length.

It’s not long before his hips are twitching up into your mouth.

You look up at him to find him slack jawed, reeling in pleasure and delight that it’s your lips wrapped around him.

“God, you look so good with your lips wrapped around me.” It slips out before he knows what he’s saying. But the look of desire and admiration in your eyes is enough to placate his nerves. “Better than I imagined.”

You pull your mouth off of his cock with a slight pop. “You thought about this?”

“Mhmm.” He swallows hard as your mouth descends on him again. “The other day—that fucking popsicle.”

Your eyes widen with a hint of a smile but your pace doesn’t slow.

“And before that too—god I couldn’t stop thinking about it—”

“What were you thinking about?”

“I’m sorry—, I tried, I didn’t mean—”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I thought about it too.” Your reassurance sparks a light in his eye. “Tell me what you thought about.”

Your lips wrap around him again as you tongue at the head of his cock.

“Back in college, you would do this thing— fuck— where you would suck on your pencil in the library. Or your water bottle. Really, anything. Anything with your lips.” Your eyebrows shoot up as you remember those long nights spent studying in the stacks, and all the times Taehyung had urgently excused himself to the bathroom, returning a while later with a thin sheen of sweat across his forehead and a dopy, almost guilty smile painting his features.

“Mhmm, what else?” you mumble as you lathe your tongue up and down the underside of his cock.

“The other day, on the cliff. All I could think about was you fucking someone else.” His eyes narrow. “That night in the tent, with you rubbing yourself all over my dick—” Your eyes widen at his directness, a spark of desire shooting through your core. “All I wanted to do pull those tiny shorts down and fuck you until that thought stopped spiraling through my head, until everyone knows who you belong to.”

His words egg you on and you attempt to take as much of him into your mouth as possible. The head of his cock brushes up against the back of your throat and you suppress the urge to gag. Instead, you take a deep breath, relax, and ease him slowly into the tight walls of your throat.

“Ah!” he gasps as you attempt to swallow around his length “Okay, okay, come here baby,” he chants, more to himself than to you. “I’m gonna come if you keep it up like that.” He loosens his hands from where they’ve been tangled in your hair to pull you up so that you’re straddling him.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and kiss him. He can taste the bitter tang of his own precome on your tongue and he loves it. He loves tasting himself on you.

As you settle your weight into his embrace all of your attention is drawn to the hard length pressing along your folds. You’re soaking and he slides easily against you as his hips move in rhythm with his mouth. You moan directly into his open mouth when the head of his cock pushes directly against your sensitive clit.

“You want to do this?” you ask against his lips.

“Yes. God, yes. More than anything.”

You smile and lean back, reaching down to grip his cock as you align it with your entrance.

“Wait—”

You freeze.

“I should have said this earlier. I don’t want you to do this because you think you need to or because you think this is the only thing I want you for.”

Your eyes widen, taking his flustered look in. Despite the sensation of his hard cock throbbing in your hands, all you can feel is the way your heart swells at hearing his words.

“I like you—I know I said that already—I like you a lot.” You press a shaky kiss to his lips, taking a deep breath. “I want you, not just this,” you say. “I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.”

“Good. Are you gonna make me wait even more?”

With a smirk, you grip him tightly and slowly push just the head in, allowing time for you to adjust to his girth.

And then you pull up, releasing him from your warmth.

You do it again, only taking the tip of his cock. And again.

His hands are on you, and there’s a fire burning in his eyes.

“Please.”

You smile.

His adam’s apple bobs as you slide slowly down on his length, his fingers digging into your hips so hard it almost hurts. Almost.

“C’mere,” he pushes against your back so that you’re leaning forward, foreheads pressed together. You both stay in that position for a moment, unmoving. It’s enough to just savor the way your body relaxes around him, savoring the warmth, the feeling of melting into one another.

All you can hear are the sounds of your breath and the water lapping at your feet, mimicking the sounds of a heartbeat.

Finally, you shift your hips against him, lifting up just enough to feel him drag delightfully against your tight walls. You love the way his next intake of breath is sharp, as if he is doing his best to hold himself back.

With a grin, you push him back so he’s now resting his full back on the ground and you’re riding him. You begin your pace torturously slow, gently picking up speed.

Taehyung has always been a man aware of the way he looks. When you were younger, you all swore he could become an actor. He had a knack for twisting his face into exactly what people wanted to see from him, but here, now, he’s completely unraveled beneath you.

You watch in fascination as shifting emotion and sensation flickers freely across his face. Pleasure. Delight. Desire. Need.

His eyes flash open. “Moan for me. I want to hear you.”

You bite down on your lip, still doing your very best to keep your whimpers and groans stilled within your chest.

“I said I want to hear you moan for me,” Tae growls, shifting beneath you. The new angle is just enough to allow him to thrust up into you at his own pace. It’s just enough to split you open in pleasure and an involuntary moan slips out of you. You clap your hand over your mouth but he pries it away from you. “I love your voice,” he reminds you gently. “There’s nothing wrong with using it.”

“I don’t want them to hear,” you laugh, struggling to get the words out as he continues to hit a sensitive spot inside you.

“Let them hear. I want them to hear.” You look down just in time to see something mischievous glint in his eyes. His hands are tightening around your waist, and in a flash he flips you onto your back so he’s now in control of the angle and his thrusts. “Let them know it’s me drawing those pretty little sounds out of you.”

The combination of his words and the new angle stirs a deep fire in your belly and a sharp cry leaves your lips.

“That’s my angel,” Taehyung praises as his pace picks up. “So willing to do exactly what I tell her to do.”

He hooks his hand underneath your knee to get a better angle. You moan again, half for the sake of witnessing the bliss that spreads across his face at the sound of it.

“That’s it, baby. Let them know whose cock has you making those sounds. Let them know you’re all mine.”

You reach out for something to grab onto, twisting your fingers into the coarse ground as you arch your back.

“Baby, baby, grab onto me instead,” Tae coos from above you, unrelenting in his pace as your orgasm builds. “Hold onto me.”

You bring your hands underneath Tae’s arms to wrap around his back. When he hits a particularly soft spot inside you you groan, your fingers coming up to dig into his shoulders. It’s not just you. Your body wants him closer. Needs him closer. On his next thrust, you rake your nails down his back, trying to press him closer.

“Fuck,” Tae hisses.

“Closer…” you gasp. “I need you closer.”

“I’m already inside you and somehow you need me closer?” Tae grunts. “Greedy girl.”

“Yes, yes,” you beg. “Greedy for you.”

He comes down to rest on his forearms, boxing you in beneath his body. Still, his pace never falters.

“Do you think you can give me one more?” he asks. You grit your teeth and nod obediently. “That’s my girl. Let me feel you. Cum on my cock. Cum for me.”

You want to pull him into a kiss, but instead find your back arching and neck stretching out deliciously for him. He latches onto the already blooming flesh there, moaning your name against your skin. Your arms wrap as tightly as they can around him pulling him as deep as you can, calling his name and coming undone for him.

His pace only falters when he feels you gush around him. His movements become sloppy and desperate with need. A new sensitivity overtakes you as you come down from your orgasm and a whine slips from you. His continued thrusts only add to the sensitivity.

Your pleading voice in his ear is enough to send him over the edge. He presses into you hard one last time before collapsing and spilling into you, the most beautiful groan spilling from his lips.

Warmth and a gentle fullness replaces sensitivity as you both pant against each other, his weight resting heavy and reassuringly against you. He kisses slowly up your neck, lingering an extra moment on the marks he’s left, until he reaches your lips. He kisses you slowly and deeply.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs against your lips.

“Just like this?” you tease.

“Especially like this.”

“You too,” you remind him, not much energy left in you for a lengthy confession. Instead, you take the moment to brush his hair out of his eyes. He closes his eyes and sighs against your touch.

It’s only now that you become aware of your state. Your knees are cut and bruised from the rocks of the shore and your tangled hair is dripping in a mixture of lake water and sweat. Tae looks just as beat up as you do. And you love it.

As you run your thumb slowly over his damp cheek you hear footsteps—running footsteps quickly approaching. You have just enough time for Tae to sprawl out in an attempt to crudely cover you before a sweaty and very wide-eyed Jungkook trots into view. He seems as surprised to see you as you are.

“Oh hey, wha—Oh my god.” His eyes widen as he takes in your disheveled forms and tangled limbs. “HOLY SHIT.”

He immediately turns on his heel and starts sprinting back to the camp.

“TAE AND YN ARE FUCKING.”

The sound echoes all around the lake.

Jin smirks to himself as he climbs out of the tent and into the crisp mountain morning.

“Took long enough.”

<-previous chapter || series masterlist ||

masterlist || ao3 ||

taglist: @dontaskshhhhh @myimaginationsrunningwild @taehyoungmoney @taffyteffy @london-dreamer71 @satoujk @spicykoreantatertots

#ksmutclub #btsgoldnet #btswriterscollective #bangtanarmynet #taehyung smut #kim taehyung smut #kth #v smut #bts smut #bts fluff #bts fic #bts ff #bts #taehyung #kim taehyung #fanfiction

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rosaliepostsstuff · 4 years

Text

Little steps (George Weasley x reader) | pt 2 - Interest

Pairing: George Weasley x reader, (hinted) OC x reader

Part 1

Word count: 3059

Summary: When the term starts Y/N tries to enjoy everyday life at Hogwarts, finds herself treated by the twins no more as just their brother’s friend or the popular girl and is excited for the Triwizard tournament to come. The announcement of the Yule Ball leaves her with many propositions, when she already thought she had a date set

Warnings: just a few swears

A/N: Strap back folks, cause I let loose. Didn’t want to rush things and was worried about the pacing of the plot. Excited for the next part cause we’re getting there...

September, 1994

This year was going to be a good one. All three of your previous years at Hogwarts, you and your friends never got to enjoy the ordinary. Each and every time, something was brewing, only to blow up right before the school year ended. Evenings spent on studying and essays were followed by trying to save the world. Or Hogwarts, at the very least. But not this time. You were trying to push back the memories of what happened after the Quidditch World Cup final and just be a teenager.

You sat between Hermione and Harry at the welcoming feast. The sorting hat had sang its song, and you curiously watched the sorting ceremony, wondering who’d join your house this year. But the most exciting thing that happened was, without a doubt, the announcement of the Triwizard Tournament. Even if it meant cancelling the Quidditch Cup that year, you hoped it would prove entertaining enough. You were also looking forward to what having students from two foreign wizarding schools would change in Hogwarts’ life. Only you’d have to wait two months to find out.

The next day was your first day of class, when everyone was starting to get back to their Hogwarts routine after weeks of vacation. The table was busy, some were discussing magical ways of making oneself older a few seats further, some were discussing their new timetables. You studied yours, chewing your toast and listening to what your friends had to say about it. -Today’s not bad… outside all morning, - said Ron, running his finger along Monday’s column -Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and Care of Magical Creatures… damn it, we’re still with the Slytherins… Herbology with Hufflepuffs, huh. You smiled a little to yourself. You had some friends in that house, two of them – Matthew and Eric – you’ve known since childhood. You even went to muggle elementary school together, before your adventure at Hogwarts began – your parents, even though pure-blood and rather wealthy, were progressive. Eric was a year above you, but Matt was your age, so you’d partner up in herbology. This year it would be slightly different, as over the summer things between the two of you changed a bit.

In the first weeks of the term, things had slowly but surely settled down. You had a new, as usual, questionable DADA teacher. Hermione decided to found S.P.E.W., trying to fight for house-elves’ rights. Although slightly unsure of her methods, you couldn’t help but agree with her message. In your world, it seemed normal, in the mansion owned by your dad’s ancestors it was normal, you never questioned it. But in your parents’ household there never was one, and you were just fine.

The day was nice, mid-September air still quite warm as you were making your way through the open corridors near Transfiguration. Your thoughts were shifting between schoolwork and leisure. As you were approaching an intersection, you heard quick, heavy steps. Most people were already in the great hall, as lunchtime started not long before.

Fred and George ran out of one of the corridors, ran past you sparing a glance in your direction as you watched with interest, and then they hopped a half wall to hide behind it. What was it this time? After them, emerged Filch, panting heavily.

For half a second you panicked. Would he blame you for whatever they did? Take you for an accomplice?

It wasn’t logical, you were just casually strolling, but you wouldn’t put anything past the old maniac. You tried to keep yourself together when he looked at you expectantly. Quickly, you pointed into one of the corridors. Your chances were 50/50, he could believe you and let himself be fooled, or see right through you, finding it suspicious, that you tried to help him and try to convince the Headmaster to allow him to tie you in his beloved shackles that were always ready in his office.

He ran. You slowly pretended to continue your way, until he was gone, when you approached the wall the twins were hiding behind. -Bli-meey, he definitely added something special to his oatmeal this morning, he never lasts this long -said George to his brother -I expected him to snuff out halfway through! -added Fred -You lads owe me one. – you said smugly, crossing your arms over your chest -That we do, flower. – George said, smiling at you, showing off his dimples -Just say a word when you wanna break some rules – Fred winked at you, then grinned at his twin and the two walked away, as you forgot where you were going before that encounter.

October, 1994

October was passing quickly in huge amounts of work, as if all the teachers made some kind of pact to rob you of free time. George and Fred seemed more confident in their bantering with you, though.

Before you knew it, there was just a week left until Halloween. You were now in the entrance hall, in front of a sign Ron was reading out loud:

TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT

The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving at 6 o’clock on Friday the 30th of October. Lessons will end half an hour early —

-Brilliant! - said Harry. -It’s Potions last thing on Friday! Snape won’t have time to poison us all!

Students will return their bags and books to their dormitories and assemble in front of the castle to greet our guests before the Welcoming Feast.

The following week, the faculty was getting more and more nervous. The castle was being thoroughly cleaned and everything was supposed to be perfect for the visit. When the time for the feast came, you and your friends arrived in the great hall, which was decorated beautifully overnight. Enormous silk banners hung from the walls, each of them representing a Hogwarts House: red with a gold lion for Gryffindor, blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, yellow with a black badger for Hufflepuff, and green with a silver serpent for Slytherin. Behind the teachers’ table, the largest banner of all bore the Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badger, and snake united around a large letter H.

Before dinner, everyone headed to the Entrance Courtyard to greet the guests. Examining all the young witches and wizards from both schools you couldn’t help but feel slightly intimidated. But nonetheless, you were looking forward to the following months, when the events of the tournament were explained to you scrupulously.

The next day was Saturday, which would usually mean late breakfast for most, but not today. Students were huddled around the Goblet of Fire, placed in the centre of the entrance hall. You watched curiously to see who could become the Hogwarts champion.

George, Fred and Lee decided to try their luck with aging potion, all three taking a drop of it and clearly confident in their ability to survive win the tournament and split the prize.

When you saw George follow Fred and step over the age line to place his name in the goblet, your eyes narrowed down a bit. You were just about to contemplate, what if, when- Loud sizzling noise and the twins were thrown back, rocking long, white beards. You laughed at the sight, just as everyone else. But you also felt something else deep down, which you didn’t give a thought – relief.

November, 1994

November was weird for you. Harry was chosen to be Hogwarts’ champion along with Cedric Diggory, but Ron wouldn’t believe he hadn’t thrown his name in, so now your group of friends was split. You thought the whole conflict to be a tad ridiculous, but you found yourself alone with Harry more, who most of the school seemed to hate now.

You and Hermione helped him prepare for the first task of the tournament, once you learned what it would be. Thanks to Moody’s tip, you spent hours practicing the summoning charm. You grasped it faster than Harry, and you tried not to show that it worried you a bit.

The 24th finally arrived. You found a place for yourself in the wooden stands, fellow Gryffindors around you. George and Fred were doing rounds, taking bets. After it seemed they were finished, as the first contestant was about to walk out, they took an empty spot next to you. -Care to make a bet, young lady? – said Fred, leaning down a bit and wiggling his eyebrows at you. -Gambling, huh? – you said, smirking and looking between the boys -Sign me up. -Atta girl. -George said and opened their suitcase once again. You were thankful your cheeks had already been a bit pink from the November chill as you were taking out the money. -3 galleons for Ced, 2 for Harry. – you handed them the coins -just don’t tell him -You pretended to whisper but just loud enough that they could still hear you over the crowd.

At some point after the task had started you got a bit cold and decided to put on the warm scarf you packed in your bag just in case. In the tight crowd, you clumsily fumbled with the bag and the jacket, trying to wrap yourself up. You were about to attempt to hold the bag between your knees to avoid placing it on the floor, when a big hand reached out to you from your right. You looked up to see George silently offering his help. You smiled and said ‘thanks’ just above a whisper. Handing him the bag, his warm hand brushed your cold one for just a moment. You put the scarf on, took your bag back and resumed your spectating position, this time, just a bit more to the right.

December, 1994

At the beginning of the month, the Yule Ball was announced. For you, it meant hordes of boys asking you to be their date. Even ones you haven’t exchanged a word with before. Some of them you politely declined, some of them just got a short ‘no.’

Professor McGonagall took it upon herself to make sure students from the house of Godric Gryffindor knew what they were doing on the dance floor, and not behave like a babbling, bumbling band of baboons.

And so, you were all gathered in her classroom, cleared of all desks, boys on one side of the room and girls on the other. When she called Ron over to demonstrate, you couldn’t help but stifle your laughter at your friends awkwardness, when he was asked to grab her waist. Soon, she directed everyone to pair up and practice.

Just like always in these situations, you kind of stepped forward, trying not to be awkward and hide, but at the same time looked around the room a bit nervously – wondering who’d ask you, if you could afford to pick and choose or if anyone would come up to you at all.

Your eyes involuntarily found George Weasley across the room. But you didn’t expect him to also look in your direction. Neither did he, but he tried not to let it show. You weren’t able to predict, what he’d do next. You didn’t know what you wanted in that moment, either, as your thoughts seemed clouded. Whether it was for him to run over to you and sweep you off your feet or just leave you, in your nervous state, so he didn’t have to witness you like that. After all, it was unlike you. Y/N Y/L/N, the talk of the school.

You’d rather not think about what your facial expression looked like, when you saw his eyes on you, his lips slowly curling into a small, shy smile.

You were brought to the world of living by Dean Thomas who walked up with a kind smile, holding out his hand for you and asked you to dance. You liked Dean. He was nice, smart, tall and cute. You said yes and smiled charmingly. When you glanced at the spot where George stood previously, for just half a second, he wasn’t there anymore. You weren’t sure what you expected. Why would he? Besides, it was just George after all, right?

Dancing with Dean, there was some small talk about classes, a few jokes about poor dance skills, and before you knew it, Professor McGonagall thanked you all for your time and you were dismissed.

The group headed to the wide, wooden doors at the back. Dean still beside you, the two of you also making your way out. -You know who you’re going with, then? – he asked you. -To the ball, I mean. - You didn’t, to be fair. You assumed you’d be going with Matt. -No, not really – you replied, skipping the details. -So.. any chance you’d like to go with me?.. – asked Dean, smiling shyly and looking down at your face, bringing his hand to the back of his neck. You felt someone’s eyes on your back, or maybe you just imagined it. Shit. You didn’t expect that. You looked at the tall boy beside you, trying to hide your shock. In the corner of your eye, you see two tall gingers pass you by in the corridor. You liked Dean, you thought again. He was cute. -No.. sorry, mate… - you muttered, truly apologetic -Hope you find somebody nice, though – you offered him a wide, hopeful smile. -That’s alright. Had to try my luck, though – he said, nodding and grinning to you. He truly seemed to take it well. –See you around – he gave you a little wave, which you returned, and picked up his pace, losing you in the crowd. So you walked the rest of the way to your common room, in the black-and-red sea, making a little mental plan of the homework you were to do for the rest of the day.

A week later, you made your way to the library in the afternoon. You seized the moment when you were in a relatively good mood and decided it’s a good opportunity to work on some assignments, to maybe wrap them up before the Christmas break.

Walking through the library you were trying to find an optimal spot for your little session. When you picked one, you walked into the aisle and were about to sit down when you spotted George sitting in the opposite row, facing the bookcase, away from you.

He didn’t see you, as he was bent over a book, his hand supporting his head and holding hair out of his face, elbow propped on the desk. He held a quill in his other hand and seemed – focused? Maybe just a little distressed. You caught yourself staring but you couldn’t blame yourself – you don’t see a Weasley twin working in the library often. In fact, you rarely see them separately.

You looked around, stepped back and forth awkwardly for a bit, unsure what to do. You heard him mutter a few curse words to himself and have to hold back a chuckle. You debated just sitting down and just getting to your work, but you take a few careful steps to try and look through his shoulder aand-

Defence Against the Dark Arts. What sometimes seemed to be the only thing you were good at – Merlin had your back. You decided to take your chance, your own schoolwork be damned. You walk up, lean on the desk next to him- -You come here often? – was not what was supposed to come out of your mouth, but it did, before you could think it through. Merlin would surely be proud of the bunch of curses you directed at yourself in your thoughts. What was wrong with you?!

George was looking up at you with wide eyes but amused smile.

-Eh, erm.. you need any help with that? – you tried to save yourself, gesturing at his parchment -I’m pretty good at DADA, ahead of my year, actually… - you continued, looking down, because if you kept looking into those warm, brown eyes, you’d surely be finished. -Uh, yeah, sure – he answered, chuckling slightly -I mean, I could use the help -He straightened up and shifted slightly as you grabbed the back of the chair next to him. -I don’t come here often… -he said under his breath with a cheeky smile.

After you settled into the seat next to him, surprisingly, the both of you relaxed pretty quickly. Even if you suspected it had been the first time the two of you properly talked alone. It was nice, your banter was natural and you actually managed to help him with the assignment, your own ones long forgotten.

-Thanks, Y/N, I really appreciate it. I’d probably rot in here, trying to do it myself, or just give up – he said and rolled his eyes, packing up his things and you were getting up. -No problem, really. I know how often you just need someone to put it in different words and everything starts to click. – you paused for a moment -I’ll see you around, George. – you started to slowly to walk away -Yeah, see you.. -he had packed his things already, and was looking at your back, retreating- -Hey, Y/N? – you stopped and turned back, looking at him curiously, your eyes telling him you were listening. -D’you have a date to the ball? – he asked, not believing his own words. Matt still hasn’t asked you. You suspected why, after you and Eric went a little far with your teasing when you hung out the other day, he got a little salty. But you knew he’d get over it, it wasn’t really serious, and there was still almost two weeks to the ball. -Noo.. -your tone almost saying ‘go on’. -Fancy going with me? – he asked looking into your eyes expectantly, but his voice was soft, and if we weren’t talking about George Weasley here, you’d say shy. You really had set your mind on going with Matt, Georges question was really surprising. You were not aware that was the case for the both of you. You’d never expect that. Yet the idea was interesting. You knew you’d have fun with him. -Yes – you smiled sweetly and bit your lower lip a bit, standing small in front of him He let out a breath, grinned at you and nodded too, looking away -Yeah, cool.. wicked.. – the last part almost inaudible.

Part 3

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley fanfiction #harry potter imagine #x reader

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kissinginkitchens · 3 years

Text

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Five: Like Real People Do

a/n: hellooo and welcome to the next part of ybmh!! i am sooooo excited about this next chapter (and upcoming chapters😏 ). Thank you again for all of your kind words and wonderful feedback! It's always so much fun to hear from you all, so as always, feel free to come chat in my inbox once you've finished this next part. I have a feeling there will be much to discuss👀 Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai'i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: swearing, allusions to sexual content, mentions of drowning

Word Count: 5.6k

read parts one, two, three, and four

“I’m not going,” Alani says finally, discarding the outfit in her hands onto a pile on her bed. The clock reads 7:55 pm, only five minutes before she was supposed to be at the studio. She still hadn’t selected an outfit, but her hair and makeup were still relatively intact from her shift at the café.

“You have to!” Pua whines. “You told him you would!”

“Then I’ll tell him I’m sick or something—food poisoning. Period cramps, maybe,”

She begins placing the clothes on hangers to put back in her closet, but her sister reaches for her wrists to stop her.

“You’re just nervous,” Pua says calmly, getting eye level with her older sister. “But you’ll regret it if you don’t go,”

“Go where?” a woman’s voice calls from the door frame. Their mother, Estrella, peeks her head through the cracked door.

“To a party with a cute boy,” Pua explains.

Alani shoots an icy glare at her sister before turning back to her mom. “It’s not a party. I’m working on a piece about a local musician and he’s recording some music tonight and said I could go. You know, to write about it,”

Estrella nods, not convinced. “So why don’t you wanna to go?”

“Because they almost kissed—”

“Pua!”

“Hey, hey,” Estrella cuts in. “Mija, you’re twenty-two years old, I don’t expect you to stay single forever. If you want to go out and see a cute boy, you don’t need to lie about it,”

“But I’m not lying,” Alani defends. “It’s just… complicated, and I’m trying to be professional about it.”

Estrella steps away from the doorframe and envelops her daughter in a hug. “Sometimes, you just have to do what feels right and hope for the best,”

Alani is grateful for the piece of wisdom from her mother, feeling a small weight lifted off her shoulders.

“But if I were you,” her mom continues. “I would wear the black strappy dress with those wedges.”

********

8:10. Harry checks his phone for the third time in one minute, growing more disappointed each time the same three numbers stare back at him, almost mocking. He doesn’t feel any better when the time reads 8:11.

“Can I interest you in a piña colada?” Mitch pipes up, sauntering over with a glass in each hand.

The choice of drink seemed perfect when Harry had suggested it earlier in the day, but he deeply regrets it now. Despite the tightening at the back of his throat, Harry accepts the drink and chooses to nurse it in a different corner of the room. A part of him feels guilty for being such a buzzkill around his friends these days, and he wishes more than anything that he could just enjoy living in this moment with them. Being away from Alani had produced a strange feeling in him similar to the sickness experienced when leaving home on a long vacation; Harry didn’t know exactly how to cure it, but he hoped that lots of alcohol would do the trick.

When the clock reads 8:20, he accepts that she isn’t coming and decides to make the best of a shitty situation. He drains another piña colada and joins his friends who are huddled around various instruments and sound equipment. A few more of Harry’s writer and producer friends had joined the trip temporarily, and he’s grateful, now more than ever, for their presence—it distracts him from the overwhelming emptiness in the pit of his stomach. Jeff hands Harry a microphone and some headphones while Mitch plugs a white electric guitar into the amp. The guitarist begins with some chords that the crew has been messing around with for the past couple of days: an upbeat riff reminiscent of some of Harry’s favorite 70s rock pieces. His head is spinning mildly, but he uses the feeling as inspiration. He pinches his eyes shut and tries to let the lyrics flow, but the only words coming out are “she’s driving me crazy”, so he starts with that. The group also runs with it, adding a few yells and lyrics of their own. The song isn’t coherent in the slightest, filled mostly with laughter and choppy melodies, but it’s the best Harry has felt all night. He traded the piña coladas for a glass of tequila fit snugly in the palm of his hand, and true to Mitch’s word, the giggles emerge. At one point, he shouts the words “I’m havin’ your baby”, which makes zero sense to anyone in the room, including him, but they decide that it sounds cool and keep it going.

“It’s none of your business!” Mitch calls back, voice raised in his best soprano to mimic that of a woman. The shoddy attempt makes Harry laugh even harder and his hand clutches his stomach.

They continue on for what feels like hours, but in reality has only been forty-five minutes. At 9:05, Jeff Azoff heads outside to catch his breath and cool down. As he takes a seat on the steps, a yellow Ford Bronco pulls into the lot and Alani steps out once it's parked. She emerges in a black dress that falls mid thigh and a baby pink leather jacket, making her way nervously up the steps.

“Alani,” Jeff greets warmly with cheeks flushed. “Welcome. Party’s inside.”

She shoots him a grateful smile and reaches for the studio door, slipping inside cautiously. The music had been audible a mile down the road, but it’s even more overwhelming inside. Standing on a small coffee table in the center of the room is Harry with an arm draped around a shorter man wearing a black and white Adidas shirt. His dimples are on full display and his warbled words carry over the speakers to attack her from all sides. She recognizes Mitch hunched over a guitar and Jeff Bhasker spinning in an office chair, but she can’t put names to the other faces lingering around Harry. Alani feels extremely out of place, not knowing where she belongs in all of the chaos—it all seems to her like a living Jackson Pollock painting that she can’t look away from. In the middle of his off-key rendition of Wannabe by the Spice Girls, Harry’s eyes land on Alani and his smile grows ten times wider. He puts one foot in front of the other, completely disregarding the small size of the table, but he catches himself just as Alani lunges forward to help him. This results in their two bodies pressed flush against one another, the coolness of her leather jacket versus the warmth of his intoxication.

“You made it,” he slurs.

Alani takes a small step back and clears her throat. “Yeah. Sorry I’m late,”

“Don’ worry ‘bout it,” Harry shrugs, his eyes lighting up when he remembers something. “There’s piña coladas! In the kitchen,”

The fact that he remembered such a detail from their previous conversations and made an effort to incorporate it into this night makes her cheeks warm.

“Okay, cool. Thanks,”

Harry scans her appearance and his stomach flutters.

“Y’look really pretty,” he offers. Alani can tell that it takes every ounce of effort to do so.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, voice small.

“Wanna get some fresh air?”

“Yes, please.”

The two of them slip out through a side door and into the backyard, stopping just before the pier. Alani doesn’t know how much of these next moments Harry will remember in the morning, which makes her feel a little more confident to share what she’s truly thinking.

“Harry, I—”

“God, you’re so pretty,” he interrupts, running a hand through his hair.

Her cheeks heat up, but she pushes past the feeling. “And you’re drunk,”

“Yeah, true. But you’re still pretty. Always think so,”

Alani searches his eyes, which are sleepy and bloodshot, but there isn’t a trace of insincerity. In this moment, she also feels the overwhelming urge to be honest—about the butterflies in her stomach that only set flight when he’s around, and the way she constantly wonders what his lips would feel like against hers. But there’s an intensity behind Harry’s gaze, despite his intoxicate state, that stops her.

“You’re making this so hard,” Alani laughs lightly, more to herself than him.

“‘M sorry,” he offers. “Don’t mean to,”

She smiles at Harry’s completely innocent reply, not knowing what to do with all of the pent up affection she has for him. A part of her simply wants to scream in his face to stop being so goddamn endearing. Instead, Alani turns on her heel to put some space between them, but stops when she feels a warm hand tug at her fingers.

“Why d’you always do that?” Harry asks, his expression a little more sober.

Alani takes a deep breath. “Do what?”

“Pull away when I get close. Did it in the car that one time. And the other time at the beach,”

There’s a beat of silence where Alani isn’t sure how to respond, but before she does, Harry releases her fingers and takes a step back.

“Wait, that was stupid. ‘M sorry if I did anything—”

“No,” Alani interrupts, taking a step closer. “You haven’t done anything wrong,”

“So why?”

She releases a breath and swallows. “I don’t know,”

It isn’t the answer Harry is looking for, but he accepts it with a slow nod. Suddenly feeling the need to flee, he takes a step onto the railing of the pier and Alani’s heart rate speeds up.

“What’re you doing?”

“S’hard to tell,” he shrugs before letting himself fall into the water below.

“Harry!” she screams, heaving over the edge of the railing to find him. The drop, unbeknownst to her, is only six feet and he’s done it many times before.

After a few seconds, Alani sees him reemerge at the surface, shaking his wet hair out. There’s a small strip of sand along the shore below, so she bolts down the stairs to meet him at the bottom.

“What the fuck?!” She cries, panic welling in the brim of her eyes. “Why did you do that?”

“I don’t know,” he deadpans.

“You could’ve hurt yourself,” Alani croaks, her limbs shaking. “You—you could’ve—”

Harry reaches out to comfort her but she steps back.

“I gotta go,”

“Alani,” he says gently, but she doesn’t respond. “Alani, wait!”

She walks briskly back to the front lot, Harry close behind.

“Alani, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t follow me.” she orders.

Her words are like a dagger through his chest, but he respects her wishes and stops dead in his tracks. Harry stands soaking wet under the moonlight, feeling helpless as he watches Alani disappear into the darkness.

********

She wakes the next morning with puffy eyes and a heavy heart, still wearing the same black dress from the night before. The warm water of a morning bath eases some of the tension in her muscles, but she knows it will take a lot more to soothe the tightness in her chest.

Why do you always do that?

Do what?

Pull away.

Their conversation from the night before lingers like a nasty bruise in Alani’s mind, but she senses a bit of harsh truth in Harry’s words. She did have a bad habit of walking away when things got hard, especially concerning matters of the heart. Her instincts were all flight and no fight, so even if Alani had stayed, she isn’t sure how she would’ve explained her reasons for panicking. How do I gently pepper in the whole almost dying thing? she wonders, a lump forming at the back of her throat. Alani was only eight years-old when she nearly drowned, and though almost fourteen years had passed since then, she still vividly remembers the helplessness of sinking further under the strong tide. On nights after a particularly stressful day, Alani’s sleep is often disturbed by the sensation of her lungs slowly filling with water only to wake up drenched in sweat and clutching the sheets. She had worked hard for several years after the incident to overcome her fear of the ocean, but a part of her still couldn’t shed the debilitating need for caution. After all, it was easier to avoid the water altogether than to wade in blindly and get sucked under. Watching Harry sink into the unknown stirred the same sense of panic that Alani had felt all those years ago and threatened to undo her progress, but she quickly realized that it was the idea of losing him that had sent her into flight mode. She imagines the hollowness she would feel at the sight of waterfalls and the scent of vanilla; piña coladas—the drink and the song—tainted in her memory forever. The thought of Harry's absence was all too much to bear, but it’s how she knew that his presence must mean something. He meant something, and she couldn’t let him go.She ends her bath quickly and sifts through the first pair of clothes she can find. Suddenly none of it mattered: what she wore, how she looked, Rolling Stone—nothing but him. Alani thinks back to her mother’s words: sometimes you just have to do what feels right and hope for the best. All she needed to do was see him and the words would find themselves. The sky is overcast when she steps outside, so she quickly puts the top on Stevie and pulls out into the road, deciding to make one quick pit-stop before setting off to find him.

********

Harry’s head pounds and he feels as if the sun has been set to maximum brightness. His clothes reek of saltwater, his skin feels like sandpaper, and his mouth is the Sahara desert. None of this compares, however, to the sense of impending doom that settles in when the memories of the night before, particularly those of Alani, resurface. I’m so fucked, he groans. Harry doesn’t quite remember every detail, but he remembers enough; he remembers how pretty she looked, and reminding her of it. He feels the temporary warmth of her fingers and the coolness of her jacket pressed against his chest. There’s a bit of fuzziness between the Spice Girls and piña coladas, but then Harry remembers crashing through water and his memory gets clearer. He fucked up. He had upset Alani in some way and although he doesn’t quite know how, he knows that he would spend the rest of his life trying to make up for it. Harry sits up suddenly and the whole room spins, but he makes an effort to stand anyway. Need to see Alani, he thinks with determination, I just need to see Alani.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Mitch comments from the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee.

“What time is it?” Harry croaks.

Mitch takes a sip of coffee and checks his phone. “10:30,”

“And last night was…”

“The party?” Mitch fills in the gaps. “Yeah,”

Harry rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands and takes a seat at the table. “Did...did you see Alani?”

“No. I don’t think anyone did, actually. Did you?”

“Yeah,”

“So… I’m assuming it didn’t go well?”

Harry’s throat tightens and he hopes that she at least got home safely. He can’t bear to think about anything bad happening to her on his watch.

“No,” he confirms with a sigh. “No it didn’t,”

“Are you gonna go talk to her?” Mitch prods.

“Dunno if I should. She was pretty pissed,”

Mitch thinks for a second, taking another sip of coffee. “What would Noah Calhoun do?”

Under normal circumstances, Harry would be very amused by his friend’s reference to The Notebook, but right now he’s too focused on making things right with Alani. He devises a plan of action and stands.

“On a scale of one to ten,” he starts. “How shitty do I look?”

Mitch scans his best friend over, head tilting from side to side as he considers the question. “About a 7.5.”

“Good enough.”

Harry swipes the keys to the Cadillac off the counter and slips his feet into a pair of beat up vans before heading out the door.

********

The restaurant is fairly empty, as far as Alani can tell from the back. The kitchen staff are gathered in the break room for the time being, which allows her to tiptoe around unnoticed as she grabs the necessary ingredients for her peace offering to Harry. She hurries out through the employee entrance as soon as it’s complete and the key is already turning in her car’s lock when she hears a voice over her shoulder, calling her name.

“David?” she responds, turning to face the brawny man leaning against the car that is parked beside hers.

“Hey,” he starts, offering a flash of pearly white teeth. “I know I’m not supposed to be back here, but I just wanted to talk to you,”

Alani swallows, the icy chill of the drink in her hands reminding her of what needs to be done.

“You know, now’s not really a gr—”

“I haven't stopped thinking about you,” David interrupts, taking a step closer. “Since the other day when you stopped by. I mean, I think about you all the time but…” he trails off and Alani waits awkwardly for him to finish his ill-timed confession. David takes another step towards her and rests his forearm against the hood of her car, practically boxing her in with no escape route.

“We were really great together, don’t you think?” he asks, scanning her face with his prying eyes. “I don’t even remember why we broke things off,”

Alani’s brow furrows, her mind failing to come up with a logical explanation for this very sudden and uncomfortable conversation. She hadn’t lied when she told Harry that David wasn’t her ex, but she hadn’t been entirely honest, either. They had started hooking up during her senior year of high school—mostly because he was the star swimmer on their team that all the other girls fawned over, and despite all the attention, he had wanted her. It made her feel momentarily special, though she knew he wasn’t the boyfriend type. “Just a bit of fun” is what they called it, and the arrangement worked out well until Alani’s freshman year of college when she realized that there was an entire world of opportunities waiting beyond the confines of high school. A world that had brought her Harry, who was probably going to leave just as soon as he’d arrived if she didn’t make amends quickly.

“No,” Alani says decisively, nudging his arm away. “We weren’t ‘great’ together, we weren’t even good for each other,”

“Alani-”

“We were really young,” she continues. “And we did what we did, but that’s all in the past-”

“If you would just give me a chance-”

“I didn’t even know what I wanted for myself back then, let alone what I wanted out of a partner. But I do now,”

She doesn’t have to say Harry’s name, but they’re both thinking it. David steps back, arms crossed, and though he had always been somewhat intimidating, he looks small standing before her now.

“It’s because of that British guy, isn’t it?” he asks, despite the feeling that he already knows the answer.

Alani lets out a light laugh but she doesn’t confirm his suspicions. “We have nothing in common, David. We want different things out of life, you’ll see,”

“And he,” David continues, an accusatory tone on the word “he”. “Wants everything you do?”

She thinks for a moment, her heart pounding as she considers what Harry’s response will be to her confession. “I hope so.”

********

Harry had considered going to Alani’s house first, but he wasn’t sure who else would be home and didn’t particularly want his first interaction with her parents to occur whilst hungover. Sitting parked on the back road behind the café, however, he wishes that he had stopped there first to save him the painful sight ahead. Harry recognizes the other man from the restaurant he had taken Alani to the first time they had hung out, a name that started with the letter “D," though probably not the one flashing angrily in his mind. His arm is draped comfortably along the roof of her car, their bodies inches apart in what appears to be a very intimate moment. While he still can’t remember the exact details of his actions that had upset Alani so much, he fits this piece into the puzzle and it becomes much more clear. She has a boyfriend, and no amount of apologies could reconcile this fact, however tempted Harry may be to try. The word “boyfriend” sits uncomfortably in his mind, but it suddenly puts everything else into perspective. It explains why she fled his car so quickly when his wandering eyes had hinted their desire for her kiss—both times. He could have sworn that it would have happened had her phone not interrupted them the second time, but perhaps it had all been a trick of the rose-colored light. The sudden realization makes Harry feel sick, and a bit foolish, so he speeds off before he can be spotted.

He drives aimlessly for a while, mind still racing with the image of the other man’s depraved hands on Alani’s soft skin. The uneasiness boiling in the pit of his stomach is pathetic—he’s well aware—but he can’t stop himself from wondering why not me? It’s a selfish thought, but it eats at him, nonetheless. It should have been me. But the reality is that it wasn’t him, and it never would be. Despite any feelings he’d had that Alani was the one for him, he was not the one for her, and it’s a fact he must learn to live with. If this thought were a rock, he’d turn it over in his fingers until they bled.

********

Alani pulls up to the studio hesitantly and waits a beat before making her way up the stairs. She knocks twice, but there’s no answer, so she presses her ear to the door in search of any sound. Silence. There’s no trace of the cars Harry usually drives when she wanders to the back lot, either, so she figures that he must not be here. Alani racks her brain for other possible locations, but it’s a dead end. She doesn’t know what hotel or house he could be staying at, and her heart begins to race at the idea that he might not even be in Hawaii anymore. For all she knows, he could be on a return flight to L.A. or London, gone forever with the same instructions she had left him: don’t follow me. Alani lifts her phone with trembling fingers and searches Harry’s name, pressing the phone to her ear and praying like she had never prayed before. It rings three times before she’s sent to voicemail. The sound of his voice on the recording brings temporary relief, but it’s gone as soon as the message ends and she is prompted to respond. She clears her throat gently and speaks as if he is at the other end waiting to hear the right words and pick up.

“Hi, it’s Alani,” she starts slowly. “I, uh…. I’m at the studio. I don’t think you’re here though,”

She walks in small circles around the backyard and lets her eyes roam to the pier where it all went wrong. It sends a pang of guilt through her spine, but it fuels her next words.

“Listen, I really wanna talk—about last night. I shouldn’t have left, I know that now. It wasn’t you, it was me, and I know that sounds cliché but it’s true,”

Alani swallows down the emotion bubbling at the back of her throat and wishes that she could just see him, face to face, one last time. There’s so much more she needs to say, but it’s a conversation she doesn’t want to have with his answering machine.

“Please just call me when you get this. I wanna explain everything if you’ll let me.”

She hangs up and nearly throws her phone into the ocean. Though her trauma response wasn’t completely in her control and it isn’t something she should feel guilty about, she wishes she had been able to explain. Alani hadn’t always been comfortable sharing that part of her life, but there was a security in Harry’s presence that made her feel okay to do so. She wanted to share everything with him, the good and the bad, but she needed to find him first.

Only twenty minutes had elapsed at the studio when Alani decides to head out; there was still no word from Harry and she needed to be anywhere else beside the site of their potential last meeting. She drives with no particular place in mind, the windows rolled down to let in the chilly, overcast air. It isn’t until she’s halfway in the opposite direction that she gets the urge to visit one other location. There’s an extremely small chance that Harry will be there, but she goes less in search of him and more for her own personal wallowing.

When Alani pulls up to the lookout where the two of them had spotted the rainbow, there is another car already parked: a pink Cadillac. The sight makes her entire body freeze.

“Harry?” a small voice calls behind him. He almost thinks that he had hallucinated it until he reluctantly turns his head and sees a timid Alani emerging from her car. A million emotions run through his mind at once, starting with confusion and elation and ultimately ending in grief.

“Hey,” he responds, weakly, still leaning against the hood of the Cadillac.

Alani slowly makes her way over, not entirely sure that he’s actually there. Once she gets closer, however, she can smell the faint scent of vanilla and her chest swells.

“I left you a voicemail,” is all she can say.

Harry’s brow furrows as he tries to remember any phone calls, but he suddenly figures that in all of his rush to see her, he had forgotten to grab it from his bed.

“Left my phone at the house,” he offers.

There’s a brief silence where the two of them size each other up, weighing their own motives against what they assume to be the other person’s. Harry speaks first.

“Alani, ‘m really sorry,” he says gently, stepping away from the car and towards her. “I know I fucked up—”

“Harry—”

“But I understand now,” he continues. “I know why you were upset,”

Confusion settles into Alani’s body and she wonders how he could possibly know about her accident. Or if he didn’t know, what else he could be referring to. She doesn’t have to guess for long because Harry continues despite her silence.

“I saw you with him—your boyfriend, I mean. Derek?” he explains. “But not in a creepy way I just.. wanted to talk. Bad timing,”

“Wait,” Alani cuts in, her brain finally sorting out the pieces. “You saw me and David..today?”

Harry feels as if the knife in his chest has been twisted further at the mention of the other man’s name, but he nods. An uncontrollable bubble of laughter finds its way up Alani’s throat, and the sound would typically bring butterflies to his stomach, but it only exacerbates the heartache.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Alani clarifies. “He’s delusional. And a huge pain in the ass, but I think he finally got the hint when I turned him down earlier,”

Harry’s ears perk up at the news, but he’s still wary.

“But you two were—”

“Ancient history,” Alani reassures him, taking another step closer. “He might as well be Socrates,”

A faint smile tugs at the corners of Harry’s lips and he feels a wave of relief wash over his body. The news is music to his ears, but he still wants to know what he had done to make her walk away that night.

“So you weren’t upset because you have a boyfriend and I tried to make a move?”

Alani takes a deep breath, knowing that she has avoided saying her piece long enough. Before she can start, though, a rumble of thunder interrupts her thoughts.

“Can we talk in Stevie? I don’t feel like standing in wet socks again,” she asks, which Harry obliges.

The two climb into the truck and settle in, the atmosphere quickly becoming more intimate than Alani had planned. His vanilla cologne has also become more perceptible in the confined space, and there’s a whiff of spearmint, most likely his gum, that briefly draws her attention to his mouth. She snaps her mind back to the conversation at hand and clears her throat.

“I’m sorry,” she begins, reading his eyes carefully. There’s a faint reassurance behind the emerald surface, so she continues. “For everything that happened last night. You did nothing wrong, please know that,”

Harry wishes he could reach out and comfort her, but he gets the feeling that whatever she’s about to say is important so he doesn’t want to dismiss it.

“It’s hard for me, sometimes, to be around the water,” Alani continues despite the prickling feeling in her eyes. “Because when I was eight years old, I almost drowned,”

The revelation hits Harry like a ton of bricks and all at once he understands. He hadn’t even thought twice about jumping into the water that night, so it didn’t occur to him to rule that out as a possible offense. He understands now that he couldn’t have been more mistaken.

“And I know that has nothing to do with you,” Alani explains, her voice wavering ever so slightly. “Except that it terrified me to think about, you know… if you hadn’t been so lucky,”

Her composure quickly cracks, a single tear spilling down her cheek before she wipes it away with the sleeve of her sweater. This time, Harry does reach a hand out and Alani accepts it gratefully; the warmth of his fingers are a welcome contrast to her icy appendages.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he murmurs as his thumb rubs small circles over the back of her hand.

“But I do,” she sniffles. “Because—”

Alani pauses, unsure of how to finish her thought. Just do what feels right and hope for the best.

“Because I care about you,” she says finally, noticing the way his Adam’s apple bobs at her words.

Harry's jaw tightens at her confession and every muscle in his body longs to bring her close, leaving no inch of space between them, but he lets her lead despite his instincts.

"But it’s also because I care about you that I can’t let this go any further,”

Alani’s words surprise herself just as much as they terrify Harry, but she knows that it’s the right thing to do as soon as it’s done.

“Alani—” Harry starts, all of his worst fears crashing down on him.

“Please, don’t make this harder—”

“Don’t I get a say?” he questions, tightening his grip on her hand, though she still manages to slip away.

Alani runs the free hand through her still damp waves and lets another tear roll down her cheek. “What is there left to say?”

“How about ‘I care about you, too’? How about ‘I want to be with you’?”

“It’s too messy—”

“Everyone has baggage,” Harry defends. “God knows I do, and I would never ask you to carry all of that,”

Alani lets her eyes meet his again; they’re bloodshot and glossy, which sends a pang of guilt and sorrow through her entire body.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” she reasons, this time thinking not only about her own issues, but about everything—the lies she had told and the ambitions she was still nurturing. She hadn’t given up on her dreams and unless Rolling Stone had suddenly changed their mind about the Joni Mitchell piece, there was only one way she was going to achieve them. Alani hadn’t yet reconciled the fact that she would have to put aside her own feelings for Harry to get what she wanted, but she knew that time would heal the wounds.

“All I want,” he continues. “Is a chance. And I know nothing I do will ever change the past, but two hands make the load lighter. So, please, let me carry some of that with you. Give me a chance,”

As she studies the pleading in his eyes, something stirs deeply inside Alani’s chest. She had started the day thinking only of him, but with selfish intentions. Now, she was trying to do right by him, having realized that she couldn’t have both him and the story that would launch her career. Something would have to give, and Harry deserved more than that. He deserved more than her. Despite all of this awareness, there is something else nagging in the back of her mind that she can’t ignore. Don’t walk away, it screams. If Alani ignored her true feelings for Harry and refused his plea, she would be walking away from someone who believed in her, someone who cared deeply for, and wanted to understand, her. Perhaps the universe truly had brought Harry for a story, but to be a part of hers instead of the one she had been so eager to publish. There would be other chances, just like Dr. Hudson had said, but there would never be anyone else like Harry. So with this in mind, Alani decides to stop walking away and stand still, right in this very moment, with the boy who shined brighter than the sun itself and who had only asked for a chance to make her happy.

“Okay,” she breathes and it’s like the weight of the universe has been lifted from her shoulders.

Harry leans in, their foreheads pressed together gently, and cups her cheek in his hand.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers.

Alani nods and nudges the tip of his nose with her own. “Please.”

Their lips meet like electrically charged magnets, with a force so natural and strong it sends bolts of electrons through their entire bodies. Harry’s mouth is warm and gentle against hers, and the coolness of his mint gum soothes the searing touch of his kiss. Alani’s fingers glide up his chest and along the sides of his neck, pulling him closer as if he’s the anchor keeping her from floating away into the dark clouds above them. Over and over again, their lips collide fervently, breaths mixing and filling each other’s lungs. Their hands eagerly explore the curves of each other’s faces, the softness of hair, and the occasional heat of exposed skin. Harry is the first to break the kiss, panting lightly as he pulls back to search Alani’s face.

“Y’okay?” he asks.

“Never been better.”

next chapter

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles x oc #solo harry #one direction #ybmh

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btsmosphere · 4 years

Text

Crossfire | KTH

Moodboard Masterlist

~summary: The night your life blew up sent you on a collision course with the campus bad boy, Kim Taehyung. Though you were well aware of his reputation, it was his doorstep you ran to when you were bleeding with nowhere to go.

~word count: 6.4k

~gang!au, mafia!au, college!au, angst, fluff, action, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers

Warnings: swearing, injury, dangerous driving, mention of drugs (warnings apply to each part individually, please read them)

~a/n: I am actually super happy with this chapter, I hope you guys feel the same! Y/N and Tae go on a lil adventure... I also had to make up a name for a cartoon show for this lmao,, and as always, thanks for the love!!

Something was tugging you from sleep.

Softly, though, so you didn’t notice until it was already too late, and your senses were with you all at once. In one last protest against the waking world, you didn’t open your eyes, stubbornly lying there instead, your back to the side of the bed Taehyung used. Then the same something that had woken you up started again.

He was singing.

That was all it took, and your eyes were open, body stiffening. Taehyung, however, noticed nothing. His song continued, one you had never heard before, and his voice was beautifully soft and smooth, expressive even at such a low volume. Clearly he had been hoping not to wake you up.

Swallowing, you forced your eyes to fall closed again. After the initial shock, you soon found it easy to relax to his calming melody, the duvet and pillow enveloping you in combination with his voice. And despite the warmth in your little bubble under the covers, goosebumps rose along your arms.

You really couldn’t get your head round Taehyung.

Though you had seen him being silly, all that time at college you had spent at a distance from him, he had seemed cold, intimidating. It had been a shock to you when he had been so amicable those months ago, and that soon became the Taehyung you knew, but he was still a mystery… His singing had really thrown you for a loop, another puzzle piece thrown in amongst the jumble you were already trying to make sense of when it came to this boy.

All day, you couldn’t get his song out of your head. Specifically, his voice.

His voice. Singing his song.

Him, him, him.

Last night he had mentioned that the books he had brought you were some of his favourites. Another surprise: who would have known that Kim Taehyung, the king of bad reputation, had a hidden love of fashion, an inner art connoisseur?

Now the books meant something different.

You read them even quicker after that, drinking in every word as if there were a drought.

Perhaps there was.

When you finished the last one in the stack, you were instantly back to the real world within four walls. It was only morning as well, judging by the light. Brilliant. One whole day and nothing to do.

“Y/N!”

Obnoxious footfalls. Taehyung was taking the stairs two at a time.

The bedroom door swung open to a slightly breathless Taehyung, leaning his weight against the door handle he had yet to let go of.

“Sorry it’s so late. You okay?”

You were lying across the bed’s width, head falling over the end nearest him, hair brushing the floor.

“Yep. Do you want me to cook?”

He only frowned down at you for a second longer before continuing as if one member of the conversation wasn’t upside down.

“Ah, no. I didn’t get any food.”

“But we basically ran out yesterday,” you frowned.

“I know,” he said, “but today we are going to the food.”

Now that made you sit up.

“What?”

“Yep,” a proud smile made its way onto his face and he straightened up, “we’re going out.”

When your only response was a wide-eyed stare, he took it as his cue to elaborate.

“I know you’ve been going a little crazy inside, so I thought we could go for an adventure. Hobi’s racing tonight and he says we can join him.”

“Hoseok?” you questioned.

“Yeah. Sound good?”

It did. You knew it shouldn’t. You weren’t naïve – you knew what he meant by racing. Idiots breaking every road law possible for clout, or maybe money. It was precisely what you had always stayed away from.

But it sounded so good.

“Sounds perfect,” you grinned.

First, Taehyung helped you find the pair of his jeans you were most likely to fit into; since you had been at his, you had mainly worn sweats for comfort’s sake, but this occasion called for a change. Wearing a hoodie was non-negotiable though, to hide your face.

After rolling up the hem of his black jeans, you slung on the most nondescript hoodie he had. Shoes, however, were more of an issue, so Taehyung vowed to buy you some once you were out. Also wearing black, Taehyung looked much more stylish than you in cargo pants, a bomber jacket and a bandana.

“Did you take your painkiller?” was the last thing on the list before finally leaving, via the side door.

Night had descended completely by now, putting you more at ease. You walked far away from streetlights when you could, but as you drew closer to the city centre, that was the last thing on your mind.

Being outside was just what you needed. You breathed in the cold air and drizzle on your face, eyes following each car that whirred past and people’s boots splashing in puddles of melted neon. And what made it all the more thrilling was the knowledge that you were taking a risk.

So far, you had been clumsily walking around in Tae’s sliders, until suddenly a man came barging past you on the sidewalk. In your dash to dodge him, you tripped over the too-big shoes, barrelling straight into Taehyung’s stomach where his arms steadied you.

You barely had a chance to straighten before Tae had turned around, bent down and grabbed the backs of your knees, forcing you to fling your arms around his neck, shrieking as he hoisted you onto his back. Grinning while you complained into the back of his neck, he carried on, but soon he was dragging you into a store that was still open – though not for long – and you grabbed the cheapest sneakers going.

With that problem solved, food was the next priority. In the end, you chose a street vendor and headed to your rendezvous with steaming bags in hand.

Not far from the centre, once you wound through the smallest streets enclosed by the tallest buildings, you emerged onto a car park. It wasn’t as secluded as you had expected for underground racing, still lit up in colours by the signs of shops that backed onto it, the entrance opening onto a wide road.

Cars were lined up, one pulling up at the same time as you and Taehyung. None were flashy sports cars: instead the line-up came in various states of repair, altered by their owners with darkened windows, underglow, stickers, spoilers, you name it.

“Hoseok!”

Beside you, Taehyung shouted across the car park, waving an arm above his head. Then his hand wrapped around your wrist and he lead you through the thin crowd over to the older bangtan boy, who pulled his friend in and clapped him on the back.

Hoseok joined the two of you as you sat on the wall to eat, watching as the first few people showed off their wheel spins and donuts, revving engines mixing with whoops and yells from the spectators. Most were dressed in black like you. A handful of people came up to chat with the boys, with ‘haven’t seen you in a while’-s to Taehyung and offers of bets for Hoseok. Keeping your head well down, you just enjoyed your food, silently taking in the new environment.

The night had cleared up, the asphalt still shining from the earlier drizzle, but the puddles now lay still as glass.

Plenty of people had bottles in their hands, sitting around on the perimeter walls. In the opposite corner, those with hidden faces crowded together, almost hiding the exchange in their hands. Others sat on their bonnets, proudly talking to the interested huddle gathered around them.

“Right, I’m gonna get warmed up,” Hoseok dropped down from the wall and departed with one last wave to your well wishes.

As Hoseok pulled his car out of its spot, more followed. Rolling down his window, he rested his arm casually against the side as he guided his car round, revving here and there to elicit hollers from the crowd.

Laughing in the driver’s seat, he hit the gas, putting on a spurt of speed and skidding round in a perfect one-eighty. A cloud was thrown up by his back tyres, glittering as the droplets fell back down.

By now, you had finished eating and were anticipating some action. The buzz among the spectators grew more as each driver messed about in the parking lot, until at last they were filing out, lining the empty road along an imaginary starting line.

“Can we go closer?” you asked Taehyung as people gravitated towards the roadside, disturbing your view.

A smile bloomed on his face and he jumped down, ditching his takeaway.

“Sure.”

Weaving in and out of the rabble to reach the front, you stood on your tiptoes to spot Hoseok’s car in the middle of the line. Taehyung stood just behind you, already speaking to someone. From your left side, a taller girl pushed past you, striding right up to the curb.

In a ripple, the pack quietened. The girl raised her hand – was that a gun? – and a bang sounded, drowned out instantaneously by the squealing of tyres and growling of engines. Within seconds, the cars had sped out of sight.

“How long is the race?” you turned to Taehyung, whose acquaintance had walked away again.

“That depends how fast Hoseok decides to go,” he murmured back, perching on the wall behind him and kicking his legs out, “they’re on one of the city circuits, main roads, so it’s just about acceleration.”

Nodding in what you hoped was a casual manner, you returned your eyes to the deserted road.

“So he’s good then, Hoseok?”

You hopped up onto the wall beside Taehyung, but it wasn’t his voice that replied.

“Oh, he’s the best.”

Your head snapped around, leaving you face to face with Yoongi. Leaning against the end of the wall, smoke swirling up from a glowing cigarette end in his hand, he looked right at home. How long had he been standing there?

“I heard you were here,” he directed a rare smile past you to Taehyung, “everyone’s wondering if you’re gonna go for a spin.”

“It’s been a long time,” Taehyung chuckled.

“Beck’s next up,” he said, as if that was meant to mean something. Based on Taehyung’s reaction, it probably did.

Shaking his head, he laughed, then bit down on his lip, still smiling, and stared into his lap.

“I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Well you won’t have long,” Yoongi crushed his cigarette against the wall, chucking it carelessly to the ground. Sure enough, the screech of tyres and distant rumble of engines were once again becoming audible.

As Yoongi melted away into the crowd again, the sounds grew and you stood up again, craning your neck to see as far down the road as you could. Only seconds later, a pair of headlights blazed around the corner, drawing a line down your vision as the car flew towards you, followed by a tight group of others.

Stepping back, you watched as the first place car whizzed by, blowing your hair back and off your face, the rest piling across the line in a photo-finish a few seconds later.

While the cars slowed, drifting round to return to the car park and the assembled cheering crowd, an elbow nudged your arm.

“Do you fancy a ride?”

Your eyes slid between Taehyung and the cars re-entering the lot, quickly encircled by people.

What the hell were you thinking? Why were you even considering saying yes? This was crazy-

“Okay!”

Taehyung held you in front of him, shielding you as together you cut a path through the excited mass towards the victor of the last race. Hoseok was grinning from ear to ear, arms in the air, high-fiving people and showing off energetic dance moves in exchange for laughter and pats on the back.

Once again, Taehyung clapped his shoulder, this time leaning in to make his request. Hanging back, you were invisible in the crowd, your face obscured.

“Hey, everyone!” Hoseok shouted, causing a hush, “Taehyungie’s gonna do the next one!”

Cheers and excited applause erupted as Hoseok lifted Tae’s hand in the air. The older boy jumped around while Taehyung laughed, and before long the other drivers were back in their cars. Returning to the roadside, the crowd left you behind.

“Hop in,” Taehyung told you, making his way to the driver’s side.

Though not top-end, Hoseok’s car was not inexpensive. You slid into the leather seat and buckled up, Tae doing the same before gripping the wheel and getting it moving, out and onto the road.

“So where are we going?” you eyed the rabble from your window as you passed them, low rumble of the engine almost teasing given what was to come.

“Beck,” Taehyung replied, pulling into position, one hand staying loosely on the wheel, “it’s what we call one of the courses round the back alleys down by Beck square, and it’s sort of my speciality.”

You nodded, eyes falling back onto the wide open road in front of you. A few cars over, you saw the girl from before standing on the curb.

“You ready?”

A deep breath in.

“Yeah,” you smiled.

Bang.

Outside, the crowd blurred and disappeared, lights whipping past your window as you were forced back in your seat with the sudden speed.

Other cars encroached either side, penning you in but Taehyung kept his eyes ahead, locking the wheel all the way right to take you barrelling into a smaller road, with only one car ahead of you. At the back windscreen, purple headlights were bearing down on you, so close it was like a demon staring into the car.

Weaving, left, right, your car thundered after the red one ahead of you, but the gap only increased.

Snarling behind you, engine nearly as loud as your own, your main pursuer was on top of you. As you spilled out onto a wider road, it was gaining, crawling up your side.

With a glint in his eye, Taehyung took one look at the competitor, one glance to where the red car was turning the next corner some way ahead, and pulled the wheel.

Staring straight ahead, wheel at arm’s length, Taehyung pushed the car, the roaring engine riding a deafening crescendo as you powered ahead through the deserted alley he had taken you down. You winced as he rapidly squeezed past some industrial bins lining the wall, only grazing one with slight jolt – then it was a clear road to the growing exit.

Your car fired from the shortcut like a cannonball, Taehyung wrestling the wheel to bring the back tyres under control as you turned right, finding yourselves neck-and-neck with the red car from earlier.

Next, a drawn-out corner, and that was all Taehyung needed to pull away, expertly drifting around before flattening his foot to the ground, plunging into the darkest alley yet, lit only by your headlamps. But once you emerged, the wider road was back, shop signs and streetlights blurring outside.

Taking a glance behind, the red car was nowhere to be seen.

A laugh bubbled up from your throat as you fell back in your seat, exhilarated. And then there was the crowd, watching and waiting by the parking lot – you had won!

“Fuck me,” you breathed as Taehyung relaxed beside you, casually braking into a drift to turn around.

A hearty laugh returned from him as he pulled into the car park, soon getting swarmed. Exiting the car, you were both engulfed in the clamouring mass, though you managed to slip away to the midst of it. Everyone was the most interested in Taehyung.

At last, most had dispersed and only Hoseok and Yoongi were left congratulating Taehyung with hugs.

“Fun, right?” Hoseok smiled at you, inviting you into their conversation.

“Yeah.” Breathless as if you had just run the course, you laughed with them.

“Good job, you haven’t lost your touch,” Yoongi affirmed again as Hoseok left you to drive again.

By the sounds of it, the next race was a longer one. Bets had been made and you all held your breath as the cars lined up again. The starting gun did nothing to help your heart calm down after the adrenaline rush of Taehyung’s race, but you weren’t complaining. His face wore a similar joy to yours, the two of you happily sitting back after Yoongi left and laughing about the thrill of his driving.

“I dunno if I would have got away so well on the corner if Hoseok’s car wasn’t so good though-“

“Hey! Don’t downplay it, your driving was insane!”

“Maybe it was insane,” he looked down, bashful, but soon smiled back and shook his finger at you, “so don’t try this at home!”

But your laughter at his joke was interrupted.

Sailing over the buildings came the high-pitched wail of a siren. The group quietened. Listening. Perhaps it was unrelated?

A couple of people walked into the road, looking around to see if the vehicle was coming your way. It was definitely getting too close for comfort.

Taehyung stood, hand wrapping round your upper arm and lightly pulling you away from the front of the crowd, though both of you still stared at the road, hoping the sound would shrink again, pass you by.

Blue flashed against the rain-slick road, illuminating dark windows at the end of the street.

Bad luck.

“Run!”

Those who were standing in the road took off across it, away from the car park, while some scattered back to where they came from. The few cars left standing in the parking lot were starting up, leaving by the alleys. And in the middle of the crowd, you and Taehyung started running.

In seconds the parking lot had emptied, and now you were alone with Taehyung as other members of the party vaulted walls away from the sirens and shouting police officers, the slamming of car doors as they gave chase.

Air rushed in and out of your lungs as your feet pounded after Taehyung, going as fast as you could but still falling behind. Dark buildings either side of you were painted in blue as light fell down the alleyway from the cars that had scattered you. Up ahead, Taehyung rounded a corner, but it was lost in darkness and you weren’t sure which one he had gone down.

You didn’t stop running.

“Stop there! Police!”

A woman yelled from the other end of the street, making you push yourself harder.

Just then, Taehyung skidded back around the corner you had just reached and grabbed your hand before you could think, and now he was pulling you away, taking turn after turn through dark streets you had never seen before. Stumbling after him, you clutched his hand, your lifeline.

You must have lost them by now. No blue lights could be seen, no sirens or shouts heard, no other footsteps but your own.

You hoped you had lost them by now. Your heart was beating out of your chest and your head spun, lungs failing to cooperate, evicting air in heavy bursts, taking it in too slow. In your side, the pain couldn’t be masked by the painkiller anymore, pinching mercilessly with every step.

You had to slow down.

Legs failing you, you finally gave in to stopping.

The sudden tug and then loss of your hand in his made Taehyung turn around, finding you doubled over, panting and pale in the face. Eyes scanning the street beyond you for danger, he moved forwards, hands gripping your arms.

“Hey, Y/N, can you keep going?”

Only your hyperventilating answered him.

“Y/N? Can you hear me?”

Trying to pull you up to look at him, he was only met with your body going heavier in his arms, forcing him to scramble to wrap his arms around your back as you went limp.

Cursing, he lowered you to the ground but didn’t let go. Not taking his eyes off your face, he caught the moment your eyes opened again once you were leant against the wall.

A short breath escaped him, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you managed, breathing more even now, “my side…”

“It’s alright, you can rest for a bit,” he assured you, finally releasing you and sitting back on his heels.

One more check up and down the alley.

“Were we seriously just running from police?” you laughed slightly, bringing his attention back to you.

“First time for everything,” he mused, sitting down beside you.

“I guess,” you chuckled, still a little breathless, “so is the racing over?”

“For tonight. It gets busted occasionally, so when the others get back and see everyone’s gone they’ll know what happened.”

“Is Hoseok going to get arrested?”

“Shouldn’t do. He’s had plenty of practice evading cops.”

Nodding, your eyes returned to the ground. It was easy to forget how much experience Taehyung and the other bangtan boys had in all this; you were just here for the ride.

“You had your painkiller, right?” Taehyung broke the brief silence.

“Yeah, I did,” you quickly confirmed, “and I feel better now, I just, I dunno what happened…”

“And your iron pill?”

“Hmm? Oh, the red ones… no, I-I don’t think so.”

He clicked his tongue.

“That’ll be it then. You’re taking one as soon as we get home.”

Despite feeling a little like you were being scolded, you smiled, about to respond when a scuffle from the end of the street made you both turn your heads.

As you watched the dimly lit space, a silhouette ran past in a blur, followed by a slower figure, wearing an unmistakeable bulky police vest. They jogged past the opening to your street, but soon their outline reappeared, empty handed.

Breath catching in your throat, you went obligingly with Taehyung as he stood silently, his arm guiding you behind him without taking his eyes off the cop. As quickly as you dared, you both retreated, wincing at each slight crunch beneath your feet. In the silence, the crackling of a police radio, though incomprehensible, was clearly heard, and the officer mumbled back into it.

Spying an opening to hide you from view, you gathered this was your target. Holding your breath, you approached it, swinging around the corner at the first opportunity with only one glance back.

One glance that showed the cop’s head turning towards you.

This alley was much smaller than the other, and you found yourself facing Taehyung in much the same way you had in his hallway when you first came barging into his life. Searching his face, you wondered if he had seen what you did just now.

“Tae-“

His lips formed around a shushing sound that barely left his mouth, and in one small step, he was up against you, a finger steady on your lips to silence you. All you could do was hold your tongue and stare as he looked past you, tentatively dipping his head out of your hiding spot, never lowering his finger.

“They’re gone,” he spoke, voice still impossibly low.

Swallowing, you removed your eyes from his face, glancing up the alley you were now on. It was a dead end, home only to a large dumpster surrounded by smashed glass and needles. You couldn’t leave this way, which would explain why you needed to wait here, in case the cop was still close by.

What it didn’t explain was why Taehyung was still so close to you.

Although his hand had now lowered, you could feel his body heat from this proximity. The zip of his undone jacket brushed against the front of your hoodie.

Your tongue ran across your lips. Eyes finally diverted from the potential dangers outside, Taehyung was now looking at you.

“Uh…” you cleared your throat, regretting opening your mouth. You had no idea what you had planned to say.

Luckily, you were startled from the situation as a chiming ringtone broke through the moment.

Scrambling to scoop his phone from his pocket and answer it, Taehyung stumbled back, eyeing the alleyway outside in a panic. Thankfully, no one had heard. Better get moving.

“Hello?”

Not even getting a look at the caller in his rush to pick it up, Jungkook’s voice answering him was a relief.

Mindlessly grabbing your hand in his, Taehyung started walking with you beside him as he listened to the younger member. As you passed through the end of the street, he took a look both ways before leading you the opposite way to that the police officer had taken.

Holding Kim Taehyung’s hand was something you had never seen coming. But here you were.

You didn’t complain though. His grip was firm, comfortable, and walking with him this way felt… normal. How that was even possible, you didn’t know, and you blamed it on your lingering light-headedness – of course you would want to feel grounded.

But somehow, far away from all you knew in backstreets you had never seen before, after a very illegal night, with a gang member talking in serious tones over the phone next to you, you felt perfectly at home.

“Cheers, Kook. Night.”

Taehyung shut off the call, tucking his phone back into his pocket. By now you had reached more well-lit roads that you imagined would be busy by day. Now, of course, you were the only ones here. God knew what time it was.

The only light brighter than the streetlamps was the interior of a 24-hour convenience store, a good indication that it was by no means a civilised hour. Still without letting your hand go, Taehyung led you inside.

Standing in front of the wall of fizzy drinks, he ordered you to pick one before swiping a packet of crisps and a chocolate bar. The teenage cashier didn’t look you in the eye once as he rung you up, and then you were on your way. Only now did Taehyung drop your hand, passing you the chocolate with a command to get your sugar up and himself tearing into the crisps.

When you had worked through the first row, he spoke up.

“Jungkook was on the phone about your dad.”

“O-oh,” you stuttered, having just put another square in your mouth.

“Well he’s okay. He hasn’t been hurt, but as you know, Shinhyuk’s forced him to hand over your apartment for the gang to use. He’s forcing him to work for him, full-time, with the threat of harm to you if he doesn’t… Apparently he was accused of stealing drugs from a deal and that warrants all this – though it’s probably baseless. Shinhyuk had his eyes on your place already.”

You watched your feet as you listened. It had been easy to put your dad out of your mind for the sake of your sanity, the not knowing taking you round in circles, but hearing that he was still alive took a weight from you.

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung said, greeted with your silence, “we’re fighting against Shinhyuk, and we’ll try to help him. Try not to worry about him losing his job, I mean-“

“Worry?” you looked up at him, “He’s alive! There’s nothing to be sorry for! Can you thank Jungkook for finding this out?”

A small, relieved smile crossed Taehyung’s face.

“Course I can,” he grinned, then held out your Fanta, “now don’t forget about your sugar.”

After this, the walk home was surprisingly short. Given how lost you were, you had thought you were half the city away, but in next to no time you turned onto recognisable streets. Strolling through the dark eating sugary snacks, it felt as if you were coming home from the movies, or any venture more innocent than your night of racing.

As the pair of you were climbing Tae’s front steps, he offered to make tea to warm up. Needless to say, you were fully on board with the idea.

He set to work, the kitchen lit dimly by lights tucked underneath the cupboards.

However, leaning against the wall waiting for the water to boil, you began to feel just how tired you were, both physically and mentally. But you could sleep later: you didn’t want the night to end yet. Deciding on a middle ground, you gave in to sliding down the wall, seating yourself on the floor. Not a move you would have chosen at your most alert moments, but it couldn’t be helped.

At your downwards movement, Taehyung spun around, dropping the teaspoon with a clatter.

But then he saw you staring back at him in bewilderment, and his eyes closed as he huffed in equal parts relief and frustration.

“God, I thought you were passing out again,” he grumbled.

Soon the bag of red pills landed in front of you on the tile. Sheepishly smiling, you gulped one down, and then a mug of tea filled its space.

“Oh, we don’t have to stay here,” you frowned at Tae as he sat down opposite you on the kitchen floor, leaning his back against the cupboards as he cradled his tea.

“Nah, it’s a unique perspective,” he said, “I’ve never sat here before and it’s my house.”

“Yeah, I’m sure your kitchen looks super different from down here,” a smile threatened to break your baffled frown, though you did pick up your mug, breathing in the inviting steam rising from it.

“So was tonight okay?” Taehyung smiled over his mug, eyes creasing a little as they watched for your answer.

“Mmm, yeah,” you swallowed your first sip of tea, “I’ve never… done anything like that before. But I thought it was really exciting! Hoseok is so nice too, letting you drive his car.”

Tae let out a short laugh, eyes disappearing for a moment.

“I practically learnt to drive in Hobi’s cars.”

“Wait, cars? As in, cars, plural?”

“Yeah,” his wide grin stayed on his face, both rows of his teeth visible in the low light, “tonight was just small races, he didn’t get out the big guns. You should see his Bugatti.”

Your eyes bulged from your head.

“I’m not even going to ask where he got the money for that,” you mumbled, still in awe.

“He didn’t,” Taehyung smirked. Rolling your eyes, you breathed a laugh, soon diving back into your tea.

“Was it alright with Yoongi there?” he asked next. His eyes were wider now, curious, smile dimming, “I know he hasn’t exactly been…”

“No, it was fine,” you assured, “I get that he doesn’t like me, but he seems to tolerate me now, so I won’t push him.”

“He did sort of beat you up before, though,” Tae pointed out.

“I nearly beat him up back!” you joked, admittedly motivated by genuine defensiveness, “I could have handed his ass to him any time I pleased, but I chose to give you the satisfaction of saving me instead.”

Taehyung responded by snorting into his tea.

“You are so rude,” you tipped your foot over to playfully kick his thigh as you both laughed.

“Honestly, I’m glad you’re not too bothered by Yoongi,” Taehyung said once the laughter had passed, though his smile still lingered, “he looks so tough, but he’s a massive softie really.”

You simply raised your eyebrows.

“You’ll see,” he smirked.

“I’ll wait,” you scoffed, “although I don’t find him scary exactly… he sort of reminds me of that evil magician from Archie-wizz- did you watch that?”

“Yes! I used to watch that every day after school!”

“Yeah, so you know the one I’m on about, right? He was always lurking around corners, like, the camera would turn around and there he was, like he’d been there the whole time. That’s Yoongi!”

Tae barked a disbelieving laugh.

“You mean Count E. Vil? Yoongi would flip shit if he heard you compared him to a cartoon.”

“Count E. Vil? That was his name?”

“Yeah, and every time he appeared, Archie was like ‘didn’t see ya there!’”

“Yeah, yeah it is that one,” you laughed at the memory, “was that seriously his name? I must have forgotten.”

“You know, the more I think about, the more I can see it,” Taehyung was laughing too, “you just turn around and he’s like – bam – looking all cool…”

Taehyung schooled his face into a death stare just like Yoongi’s to demonstrate, making you crack up even more. He didn’t last long before the act broke down, laughter creeping into his poker mouth and now the both of you were bent over your knees with tears in your eyes, wheezing with the kind of infectious laughter that is most at home after lights out at a sleepover.

“Not a word of this to Yoongi, understand,” Tae joked when you had both calmed down, voice worn out from the laughing fit.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Comfortable silence warmed the room for a moment as you both drank more tea. Odd though your little scene was, with you both sat on the floor, legs outstretched in the middle, it was cosy. The glow of fading LEDs that barely lit your faces separated you from the darkness of the outside. In all the world, it felt as though you two were the only ones, safe in your unorthodox sanctuary.

“How…”

You spoke before you had figured out how to phrase your question, but now Taehyung had lifted his eyes back to you.

“How did you… Who started, I mean, with bangtan…”

“How did we get together?”

You gave a small nod.

“Some of us go way back,” he set his tea down, “I mean, I went to high school with Jimin. And Yoongi’s from the same city as me, and we used to know each other when we were tiny. His family was connected to Namjoon’s, and that’s where it started – their families started the whole crime thing, and they started training together.

“We all sort of fell together, I think Jin’s family needed help from Namjoon’s and he stayed on; Jungkook knew Jimin from childhood, and he showed up asking for help when we had already started; Jin found Hoseok at college. I started, and Jimin came along too, because Yoongi wanted me. We had been out of touch for years, but I still knew who he was.”

“Wow,” you breathed.

“It’s sort of complicated, I know,” he directed a shy smile at his cup.

“Well, that’s life,” you said quietly, “but you guys work so well together. I guess you got lucky.”

Taehyung’s nod was solemn.

“Yeah. But it’s more than just working – they’re my brothers now.”

Tilting your head as you listened, you believed him.

“You guys seem to understand each other so well.”

“We do – we always have each other’s backs, you know? I wouldn’t stick around in this for just anyone.”

“By ‘this’, do you mean…” you rested your chin on your knees, still listening intently.

“Everything we’re known for: drugs, fights, racing… I never intended to get into all that. I try to be careful, and moral, about it, we all do. But I wouldn’t have done it for anyone else.”

“Do you think you’ll stay in a gang forever?”

By now you were both talking in hushed tones as if you were huddled under blankets.

“No, I don’t think so,” he pondered, “I’m not sure what I want to be, though.”

“How about your art?” you smiled, “or fashion. Those books you got me were really interesting. Or your music? You’re a good singer-“

Cutting yourself off, your eyes widened. Taehyung had been nodding along, considering your options, but now he stared straight back at you.

“You heard me singing?”

“U-uh, yeah, I did,” you stammered, heat glowing in your cheeks, “I was half asleep, but I thought you were so good.”

“Thanks,” Tae’s voice was lower in pitch now, and he swallowed and looked down, his dark hair obscuring most of his face so he almost melted into the darkness. He cleared his throat, “I’ve never sung to anyone else before.”

“Well, you didn’t exactly sing to me,” you spoke softly, reaching a hand to his knee, “but it was amazing anyway. I mean it.”

You were glad to see a genuine smile blooming on his face as he looked back up again.

“Anyway,” he shook his head, “I’m not gonna leave the boys. Even when I’m not in a gang, they’ll always be my family. I’m not letting that go.”

“I understand.”

You really did. Your only family was across the city, torn from you and forced to work for Shinhyuk.

Hesitantly, you drew your hand back from his knee.

Draining the last dregs of his cold tea, Taehyung let the silence settle.

“I miss college,” you eventually confess into the quiet room, “I hope I get to go back.”

“Even Professor Han’s class?” Tae’s low voice joked.

“Oh, I don’t think I miss it that much,” you smiled, though it was overtaken by a sigh.

“You’ll go back,” came the reassurance.

A pause.

“We… we’re hoping we can beat Shinhyuk in this whole thing. We’re sort of working on a plan.”

Instantly intrigued, you stared expectantly across the kitchen at Taehyung, who heaved a sigh and began to explain.

“Shinhyuk has his weaknesses, and thanks to Jungkook we’ve found the worst. He works differently to us. He doesn’t care for anyone in his gang, and they don’t care for each other. Like your dad, he keeps most of them there with blackmail, so we’ve been trying to pick people off. If we can infiltrate well enough, guarantee his members a safe escape from the gang, or find some blackmail of our own to get them, we should be able to weaken him and catch him off-guard when his safety net isn’t there to catch him anymore…”

“Is it going to work?” you breathed into the still air.

Taehyung pursed his lips. You were very conscious of your breathing as you waited for an answer. In. Out.

“It has to.”

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hi-my-name-is-dotdotdot · 2 years

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Day 3 - Hot Chocolate

In which they debate over the best ways to drink hot chocolate

The storm was unexpected, but made a good excuse to turn up the fire, bring out the fuzzy blankets, and huddle up to tell stories with some warm drinks. Of course, this caused a debate over what was the best drink, but that was soon settled by everyone getting their own favorite. Nyota and Christine won in the end - they made a big batch of real hot chocolate and left it in a warming container, announcing they were happy to share. A few cups in, everyone (but Spock, of course, who had tea instead) had switched over to hot chocolate because the synthesized drinks just weren’t the same…but with some interesting additions. Bones accidentally took a sip out of Scotty’s mug instead and nearly spat it out, spluttering, “Is this a drink or a marshmallow goop?”

“Sorry Len,” Scotty laughed, taking the right mug off the table and switching them, “but marshmallow-filled hot chocolate is the best hot chocolate.”

“You know, Russians invented putting marshmallows in hot chocolate.” They all turned in surprise, for it was Sulu, not Chekov, making that claim. He smiled and shrugged, “I knew he was gonna say something like that - weren’t you, Pav?”

“Well, I was going to say that marshmallows were invented in Russia, but I think that that you are right, too.” But he grinned at his own joke, and soon they were all laughing.

“Do you want anything?” Jim asked Spock softly as he got up, having decided to refill his own mug of hot chocolate (with a normal amount of marshmallows, but also a candy cane stirrer).

“My tea has gone slightly cold. If you would not mind rewarming it, it would be fixed.” Jim reached out to take the mug, fingers brushing together as he did.

“Spock! Your hands are freezing!” Grabbing the mug, he knew why. “This is far beyond ‘slightly cold.’ I thought this tea is meant to be drunk nearly scorching?”

Raising his customary eyebrow, Spock pointed out “the mug is insulating, so although the outside feels cold, the contents are truly only slightly cold.”

“Well, that won’t do. You need a nice, warm mug to keep nice, warm hands. Or I can warm them for you.”

“A mug that lets all the heat bleed out is not logical. It would let the beverage become cold before I finished drinking it.”

Their friends, quite used to this sort of back-and-forth, all smiled at the predictably Spock-ish answer, and decided to help Jim. After all, they all wanted a reason for Spock to use the mug Nyota had optimistically packed for him. “It’s a human custom, Spock. We use hot mugs as hand warmers on cold nights, and people usually have favorite ones - even if it’s illogical.” As Uhura explained, McCoy held up his mug clutched between his hands. “See, like this. Feels really nice, and I bet it would for you, too, what with Vulcan being a desert planet and all.”

“How ‘bout I transfer your tea into your mug and warm it up, then if you dislike it I’ll pour it back for you,” Jim suggested. Spock acquiesced, mainly wanting the debate to finish quicker so he could get his warm tea back. When Jim returned with the mug of tea and gave it to Spock, he held it between his hands like McCoy had shown him.

“I must admit, there is a certain sense of relaxation associated with the warmth of the mug on my hands.” So, it feels good. They all understood the meaning, but let Spock keep his Vulcan logic.

When the trip was over, he asked Nyota if he could keep the mug.

“Well of course you can! I’d hoped you would want it, it’s the perfect mug for you.”

“Thank you.” And so an inefficient, conductive, undoubtedly human mug, white with a black cat sleeping on the side, joined Spock’s belongings.

<- Day 2 Day 4 ->

#aerynwritesdc21 #spirk #scones but not the pastry #jim kirk #spock #leonard mccoy #montgomery scotty #uhura #christine chapel #pavel chekov #tos sulu #why is just sulu not a tag #hikaru sulu #?#oh there it is #anyways this is now 2 days past day 3 and day 4 will probably come morning and day 5 at a reasonable time today #i may be being too optimistic with that #we'll see #also it's the fifth in my time zone to explain since I always forget that's a thing

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

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Just Fine

Prompts: I just finished your Merlin fic Not Bad, and was wondering if we could have something of a sequel to it, if you're willing? Thank you either way! - anon

hi omg i absolute love your works on ao3, you're such a talented writer! i'm in love with your touch starved! merlin fic on ao3 and if you're still writing merlin fics and if you wanted to write it i would love to see a second part! (i've never used tumblr before so i don't know if this is where you even take promps/ requests but i figured i had to try, i love your works so much!) - anon

So many people asked for a part 2 so now we have a part 2 yay

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: this chapter is fluff all the way down, folks

Pairings: platonic merlin & everybody, can be merthur if you want I don't care

Word Count: 4729

Healing isn't supposed to be easy, but maybe the others can help make it easier.

He did say he was going to be pulling Merlin into his bed to cuddle with him in the mornings.

The sunlight is a menace, Arthur’s sleep-slack brain decides one day as it slices knife-like over his eyes through a slit in the curtains. He furrows his brow and turns, nuzzling his face into his pillow and doing his very best to ignore the fact that it’s morning now which means he’ll have to get up and do things. He’s royalty, he shouldn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to.

…well, okay, maybe that’s not true.

Arthur muffles a snort into his pillow.

That should show how much Merlin’s been rubbing off on him since he came to Camelot, Arthur before Merlin would’ve huffed in that arrogant prat way—he’s not too proud to admit he has his moments—and said that he gets to decide what he wants to do, no one else. Arthur after Merlin knows that he’s his people’s servant as much as they are his. He may not have had the words to express it before Merlin but he’s always felt that way. Seeing someone so blatantly defy the status quo—and by extension, Uther—helped bring that out of him.

See? This is why he’s tired and deserves more sleep. He’s already waxing poetic about Merlin. He turns over in bed again and resolves to try and get a little more sleep.

Of course, as soon as his head hits that side of the pillow, the door opens, and in come Merlin’s footsteps.

The curtains are pulled open and Arthur winces, the light beaming onto the back of his head. Merlin putters around, probably setting up breakfast going by the smell of sausages, and then there’s a tug on his blanket.

“No,” he mumbles, holding it closer to his face, “lemme sleep.”

“You have to get up, Arthur,” comes Merlin’s amused snort, “you’ve got a meeting with Leon in a few hours.”

Arthur grumbles, refusing to open his eyes. “Then why can’t I sleep until then?”

“Because if I don’t get you up now, you won’t have enough time to wake up properly.”

“But it’s just Leon!”

“Yes, and you know he has this annoying habit of looking pristine even when he’s covered in mud.”

This is true. Arthur sighs, cracking his eyes open, and is immediately greeted by a wonderful sight.

Merlin, his Merlin, is standing in the sunlight.

It felt like a knife on Arthur’s face, but on Merlin, it looks like a cloak. A cape. Something to be worn with pride. He glows, that’s the only way to describe it. Even his eyes are shining.

How can anyone believe that Merlin isn’t magic?

…yeah, he must be really tired.

“Arthur,” Merlin calls, and only then does Arthur realize he must’ve called his name a few times, “you okay?”

Arthur nods dumbly, still grinning dopily up at Merlin. Merlin looks warm. Warm Merlin. Merlin should be warm. Warmth is good for Merlin.

Something cold ripples through his chest as he remembers how cold Merlin was the first day he let them hug him.

Merlin shouldn’t be cold.

“Arthur?” A gentle tap on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Arthur blinks and holds his arms out. “C’mere.”

Now it’s Merlin’s turn to blink. “What?”

“Come here,” he insists, reaching for Merlin, “just come here.”

Merlin’s face flushes an adorable red. “Arthur, I—“

“I’ll get up in a minute, I promise, but come here first.”

Merlin sighs. “Alright, you big baby.”

But Arthur can see the way he trembles with uncertainty as he sits down to take off his boots. He can see the way Merlin’s brow twitches and how he isn’t quite sure of himself as he slides under the covers.

Well. Can’t have that.

“I said come here,” Arthur murmurs, gathering Merlin into his arms, “there.”

“…’rthur?”

“There,” Arthur sighs, snuggling into his new Merlin-shaped pillow, “perfect.”

Merlin’s tunics are scratchy. He’s a bit elbows and knees. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with all his limbs.

But as Merlin’s arms shakily come up to hold Arthur back, a contented rumble comes from Arthur’s chest.

Merlin is warm.

Yeah, they’re not getting up for a few hours. Leon will understand.

Merlin doesn’t like going hunting, which is fine, which is why they’ve affectionally renamed it ‘a woods trip.’ Actually, he’s pretty sure Gwaine calls it ‘get Arthur out of the castle so his prat nature doesn’t consume him,’ but everyone gets the point.

The point is that it’s one of the few times where they can just be a group of men, bit worried about getting stabbed by bandits, yes, but not worried about the rules and hierarchies and eyes of the city on them all the time. They can mess about and joke and partake in the bizarre sense of humor they all seem to have without any of the guards looking worriedly at each other when they think they won’t be seen.

Honestly, most of the guards at this point have just…accepted it. Arthur will never quite get over the one time he overheard a conversation with one of the new guards outside his room.

“Shouldn’t we tell someone that the servant is conspiring against the King?”

There had been a scoff from the older guard, Kodi. “You must be new.”

If Merlin had wondered why Arthur was muffling snorts into a napkin when he returned, he didn’t ask.

The woods aren’t exactly safe, not like Camelot is, but as Leon says, the safest place for a ship is in the harbor but ships were made to sail.

It’s what he tends to pull out whenever one of them complains about camping out for a night.

“Come on,” Gwaine mutters as he tries to get the fire to start, “come on, you bastard…”

Merlin glances over and hides a smirk. “Need a hand, Gwaine?”

“No.”

After a few seconds pass, Gwaine stifles a sigh.

“Maybe.”

Merlin stands, takes the flint and steel from him, and crouches down. He strikes it once and there’s barely a spark. He frowns. Another try yields another failure.

“What’s wrong with this thing?”

“So it’s not me. Great.”

“No, it’s—did someone leave this out?”

“Ah—“ Percival raises his hand— “that might’ve been me. One of the canteens spilled over the pack that it was in.”

“Well, yeah, that’ll explain why the—yeah, that’s it.” Merlin sighs. “Okay, well, um…”

“Can’t you just—“ Lancelot snaps his fingers— “you know?”

Merlin stiffens.

“Hey,” Gwaine murmurs softly, resting his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, “Merlin. Hey, Merlin, look at me.”

Merlin turns, his mouth a hard line.

“You have magic,” Gwaine says gently, “we know. We don’t care that it’s illegal. You’re not bad for having magic and we won’t punish you for using it.”

“…thanks.”

“Anytime.” He nods toward a scrap of kindling. “Now come on, I’m hungry.”

It gets a weak laugh out of Merlin as he stretches his hand out and mumbles something. A fire sparks into existence and roars merrily. Gwaine smiles and wraps his arms tightly around Merlin.

“Good job, Merlin,” he says quietly as Percival drops a hand onto his shoulder and rubs, “good job.”

“…really?”

“Yes.” Percival gives his shoulder a squeeze. “Good.”

New rule they figured out: Merlin isn’t allowed to go near bodies of water unsupervised.

It’s the end of winter and the trees are just starting to grow their leaves out again. The grass is turning green under the lumps of snow that still remain and the birds have started to sing. All around them is the sharp sweet smell of new, the soft cracks as the ice melts.

Soft cracks, mind you. Not big ones that mean someone is about to fall through a thawing lake.

He didn’t actually fall through, but it had been a close thing.

Elyan had fretted for a good few minutes as Merlin’s teeth chattered until they figured out the poor man had just had a clump of snow fall on top of him, he hadn’t fallen through the ice into the lake. He gets a half-hearted scolding as they whip up a fire and a warm drink, quickly replaced by questions of whether he’s okay, is everything still attached to him, is he hurt?

“I’m fine,” Merlin insists, huddling by the fire, “just a bit cold.”

“You’re still shivering,” Elyan points out quietly, “give me your hands.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m going to make sure you don’t lose circulation.”

Merlin frowns but lets Elyan take his hands. The knight begins to rub his fingers in a pattern Merlin recognizes from Gaius, stimulating blood flow back into the digits to ensure that everything is working properly.

Elyan works patiently for a few seconds until he realizes that Merlin’s eyes have glazed over.

“Merlin?”

Merlin blinks and seems to snap out of whatever daze he was in. “Sorry, sorry, I just—um—“

Elyan tilts his head, Merlin’s hands still cradled in his lap as he struggles for words. Absentmindedly, he swipes a thumb over Merlin’s palm and Merlin bites back a whimper.

“Merlin, am I hurting you?”

“I mean…yes? But no, no wait, I don’t want you to stop, I just—it—“

“Shh,” Elyan says, “it’s okay. Tell me what hurts.”

“I just…you’re really warm,” Merlin mumbles, “and I guess I’m just not used to…to…to touch yet.”

“Ah, I see.” Elyan moves his hands slowly, seeing the blood flow is mostly back to normal as he cups Merlin’s hands between his own. “It’s still warmer than you’re used to, right?”

Merlin nods.

“Can I keep holding your hands?”

“Mhm.”

Elyan holds Merlin’s hands in his own until they deem it safe for him to ride back to Camelot.

If Lancelot knows the secret to getting Merlin to feel a little more comfortable in his own skin, it’s to have him hold something.

He’s not sure why it takes Merlin’s mind down an edge as he begins to fiddle with whatever’s in his hands, but it does. The worried furrow in his brow softens into one of concentration, the anxious twitches of his fingers grow more fluid, more relaxed as he twists and turns the thing between them. Over the years, he’s gotten good at figuring out what Merlin needs to be holding, if he does say so himself.

When Arthur has an important meeting that makes Merlin’s eyes dart around the room, Lancelot hands him a shirt that needs to be repaired. Merlin’s hands navigate the stitches with ease as he makes sure Arthur’s got his armor of a different sort.

When there’s a tournament full of knights coming from far away that Merlin can’t trust quite yet, Lancelot hands him a pouch of seeds to sort, collected from one of the children from the flower store. Merlin sorts them deftly, putting each group into a little envelope to be returned, using it to hone his eye.

When there’s a terrible thunderstorm and Merlin can’t sleep, when Lancelot finds him wandering the castle late at night, he gives him a little plush toy. It’s a small thing, stitched together from remnants of clothing, and something that the servants pretend doesn’t exist. But if you know where to look, and who to talk to, there will be a little stuffed toy sitting on your nightstand if you ever need something to hold. Malwen raises an eyebrow when he asks for one but once she knows it’s for Merlin, Lancelot has it before the day is out.

As he watches Merlin fiddle with the toy, twirling one of the buttons around and round its thread, he wonders.

Is this the only form of physical comfort Merlin has ever allowed himself to have?

The answer is an incredibly disheartening yes, and Lancelot resolves to always give Merlin what he needs to help himself.

Then there’s a moment where Lancelot has no idea what Merlin would want to hold.

It’s a visiting lord, because it’s always a visiting lord when it’s not bandits or a visiting knight. They storm inside—Lancelot hadn’t bothered to remember his name—and pronounced that he missed Uther’s way of doing things. That when Uther was in charge, Camelot was strong, that there were roots of evil snuffed out at every turn.

Of course, he was quickly glared into submission by Percival and Arthur had cooly informed him that evil was snuffed out by not giving it an environment to grow, not futility ripping weeds from the soil.

But not in time to stop the lord’s words from getting to Merlin.

Lancelot finds Merlin on the balcony that isn’t a balcony, an abandoned training ground far above the rest of the city. He sits on the old stone, swinging his legs back and forth, staring at the ground with a glazed expression. His hands twist and turn over each other and his breathing is a little too controlled to be safe.

“Merlin,” he calls softly, not wanting to startle him, “Merlin, can I come sit with you?”

“Mm.”

“Thank you.” Lancelot eases himself down onto the stone bench, speaking softly as if he’s trying to soothe a wild animal. “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

Merlin isn’t hurt, good. Lancelot glances down at his hands. They twitch and knead at the fabric of his tunic. They clench into fists only to open a few seconds later. They look like they hurt.

They’re trembling.

Lancelot takes a deep breath and carefully, oh, so carefully, takes one of them in his.

Merlin goes limp, all but slumping into his shoulder. His hands are so cold.

“I’m right here, Merlin,” Lancelot murmurs, giving the hand in his a squeeze, “I’m right here.”

Slowly, he reaches out to take the other, feeling Merlin’s hands twitch lazily in his. Every so often, Merlin will squeeze and he will squeeze back. Merlin’s head tucks itself under his chin and the warm rush of his breath hits Lancelot’s arm. His hands stay safely in Lancelot’s grip.

Lancelot will always give Merlin something to hold. It’s no accident that includes his own hands.

Not many people in Camelot know that Leon isn’t just Arthur’s right hand, but the closest thing Arthur had to a brother.

They grew up together, in the streets and fields and halls of Camelot, running around with sticks before they got given swords, fighting dragons and monsters before they battled the real ones, helping each other in secret before they rose to places where no one could hurt them.

Leon remembers holding an Arthur too young for any of this as his father raged, as the swords clashed too close to his face, as a peaceful village burned around them. He remembers a younger Arthur holding onto his cloak, his sleeve, his hand, always asking, asking, asking Leon to be there, just to be there, the way he didn’t feel anyone else was.

They’re older now, and now Arthur is a man Leon is proud to know. He asks Arthur for things now, for help dismantling the things they hated as children, for help finding ways to take care of the knights when he doesn’t know what to do, for help figuring out what to do in this world where things are starting to make less and less sense day by day.

Arthur is his brother, his friend, and his King. Leon is Arthur’s brother, his friend, and his Knight.

To most others, Leon is nigh untouchable. He is the longest-serving knight in Camelot, he is almost royalty with how close he is to the Pendragon family, and he is near unmatched on the dueling grounds. He has the ear of the King, the unwavering loyalty of the knights, and the faith of the Council.

There is a short list of the few who know he this is not all he is.

There are a few children in the lower town who know he is a kind man before he is a great knight, that there are scrapes and bruises they receive running from something only to be protected by a red cloak and a calm voice. There are a few servants who know that his presence as they walk to Gaius is an impenetrable shield on one side and the softest guiding hand on the other. There are a few stable boys who know that they will never again be beaten for who they are because he is just like them.

But Leon has not truly cared for someone younger than him since Arthur was little. Not the way he used to.

Of course, as he is with most things, Merlin is the exception to this rule.

Merlin, with all his magic and baffling charm and bumbling wisdom, worms his way into Leon’s heart by the time he gets assigned to be Prince Arthur’s Manservant. From there, it isn’t hard for Leon to watch with a certain glow of pride in his chest as Arthur starts to change, from the hardened fist Uther wanted him to be to the man the little boy he grew up with was supposed to be. He keeps his words to himself about how kind Merlin is, relentlessly so, and smiles quietly when Arthur begins to clumsily mimic the acts of kindness. He grows to care for Merlin quickly, making room next to his heart for one more, nestled close.

But it isn’t until he has a chance to comfort Merlin properly that he begins to think of him as a brother.

Don’t get him wrong, Merlin is his brother the same way the knights are his brothers. But Leon hasn’t loved someone the way he loves Arthur in a long time.

He receives a call from Gaius and responds, hurrying down to the physician’s chambers to see Merlin’s face is awfully flushed and his eyes red-rimmed in tears. He hurries faster to Merlin’s side, asking what’s happened, what’s wrong?

It seems Merlin has been fixing something wrong with the magic of this bracelet Gaius shows him, a silver one with a big amber stone in the middle. It looks familiar, it reminds Leon of Morgana for some strange reason, but he can’t quite place it. But it seems something went wrong and now…now poor Merlin is upset.

Leon knows what to do.

He guides Merlin carefully into his room, stopping to remove his mail shirt and leaving him in the softer under-tunic and cloak, and sitting Merlin carefully down on the bed. The poor man looks cold, small, like a scared dog.

“Merlin,” he says softly, “Merlin, I’m going to sit next to you now.”

He eases his weight down onto the bed and waits. Waits for another tear to roll down Merlin’s cheek to let out a soft noise of concern, melting at the sight of someone crying.

“Come,” he murmurs, opening his arms, “shed your tears, Merlin.”

And oh, he hasn’t seen those eyes for a very long time. Not since little Arthur had looked up at him, shining with undisguised hope and want but holding himself back, like a starved puppy too scared to eat. It breaks his heart and he lets out another low noise, reaching for Merlin.

“When Arthur was little,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing as he begins to gather Merlin into his lap, “he never used to like sleeping alone when his father was away. He said the castle was too big, too empty, even with all the people inside.”

He takes Merlin’s hands and guides them around his neck.

“I never liked sleeping in the castle either, it was too quiet. I didn’t know where anything was, except for Arthur. One night, he came into my chambers and all but tackled me in a hug.” He smiles fondly at the memory. “He insisted I let him stay.”

“St-stay?”

“Yes, Merlin, stay. Stay with me, let me hold him until we both fell asleep. He pulled himself into my lap—yes, just like this, your legs over mine—and wrapped his arms around my neck—there you go, just here, that’s it, you hold onto me now—and we stayed like that until we fell asleep.”

Merlin’s hair ruffles as he settles, Leon’s breath warming the top of Merlin’s head as he tucks the poor man close. Merlin’s hands are ice around his neck.

“And when the nights got cold, we would wrap ourselves up in the blankets,” he continues, beginning to swaddle them both in his cloak, “until we were bundled so tightly together that even the coldest night wouldn’t get it. It was warm, I remember being warm, there, in the bed, in the blankets, safe…and warm…”

There’s a quiet sigh against his neck as he wraps the cloak around the both of them. It’s warm, a perfect little nest. Merlin’s weight settles against his chest and part of him that’s been suppressed for many, many years starts to warm.

“He stopped coming to me when he got older,” he murmurs, “whether because he didn’t need it anymore or if he got too big. Between you and me, I’m sure it’s the second one. He’d still try if he weren’t worried about hurting me. I think he misses it, sometimes.”

He pauses, then leans closer and tucks his face against Merlin’s temple.

“I know I did. I still do, every now and then, but I know Arthur feels safe now in a way he never did when we were growing up. And most of that is thanks to you.”

“M-me?”

“Yes, Merlin,” Leon whispers, “you. You make him feel safe, make the rest of us feel safe. You’re a good person, Merlin, and we care very deeply about you.”

“…you do?”

He can hear the sleep coloring Merlin’s voice. He hushes the poor thing, cuddles him close, rocks the both of them closer to slumber.

“Of course we do,” he whispers to his brother, “of course we do.”

+1.

Sometimes Merlin has good days. Days where he’s smiling and laughing and joking with the knights. Days where he’s bantering back and forth with Arthur like it’s nothing. Days where he uses his magic the way he always has, like it’s a part of him.

Sometimes Merlin has bad days. Days where he’s quiet and they can’t get him to smile. Days where he is every bit the perfect servant for Arthur, which means he’s about as far from Merlin as he could be. Days where he seems to want to pretend he’s never had magic in his life.

Today is a bad day.

Merlin doesn’t talk until one of them asks. He goes off on his chores and they don’t see him for hours. Gaius is worried. Leon is worried. Lancelot is worried.

Percival is angry. Some of the new knights believe Merlin is a traitor—for whatever reason—and spends time educating them on the training fields.

Elyan is afraid. Gwen came to him and said that she hasn’t seen Merlin all day, which means Merlin is avoiding the servants as well as the knights.

Gwaine is upset. Because he can’t find Merlin anywhere and the longer he stays away the worse he’s going to be when he comes back.

Arthur walks into his chambers at the end of the day and sees Merlin sitting on his bed.

He stuffs away the outrage at himself for not thinking to look here first, stuffs away the fear and sadness that Merlin is upset, stuffs away the need to order him to Gaius and have him looked over, and replaces it with a soft call of: “Merlin?”

“Sire.”

Oh, no.

“Hello, Merlin,” Arthur says softly, “can I come over to you?”

“If you like, sire.”

“I would.” Arthur crosses the room slowly, wary of Merlin’s reaction, until he can stop within arms’ reach. “Hello.”

“Hello.” Merlin looks up at him. “May I ask you for a favor, sire?”

“Of course, Merlin, anything you like.”

“…m-may I have a hug, please?”

Arthur’s heart shatters.

His face must do the wrong thing because Merlin flinches, withdrawing into himself. “I’m sorry, sire, that was rude of me to ask. I’ll leave you be, now.”

“No, no, no, Merlin,” Arthur stammers, “no, that’s not what I meant, stay, stay, Merlin, of course you can have a hug, come here, come here—“

He gathers Merlin into his arms, to his chest, wrapping him up as snugly as he can.

“You don’t need permission for a hug, Merlin, that’s why I was upset,” he mumbles, “I don’t want you to think you have to earn it, you don’t—“

It seems his ramblings, however embarrassing to him, are helping Merlin calm down. Or at least get over his fear enough to wrap his arms around Arthur too. Arthur squeezes him tight and is content to sit there for a moment to let Merlin have what he wants, but then he feels something tug at his chest.

Tug, tug, tug.

Arthur frowns, tries to tug back, only for the tugging to grow more insistent. He follows the tugging to scoop Merlin into his arms, carry him to the bed, and lie down beside him. As the tugging persists, he tucks Merlin’s head under his chin and pulls him closer, threading a leg through his. One last tug and oh, oh, he understands now.

“You’re not bad,” he murmurs, ruffling Merlin’s hair as he talks, “you’re not evil. You have magic, Merlin, that’s alright. You’re my Merlin. I don’t want a proper servant, I don’t want a normal servant, I want you. You’re my Merlin.”

There.

Whatever wall there is crumbles as Merlin begins to sob desperately into his chest. The tugging renews, guiding him this way, that way, to hold Merlin close, to pull back and let him gasp for breath, to murmur reassurances in his ear, or to roll a little and hold Merlin down as he seizes with the force of the cries.

And through it all, Merlin never stops asking for comfort.

His fingers never loosen their grip on Arthur’s shirt. His legs never let go of the one Arthur wraps through his. His nose never strays far from the crook of Arthur’s neck. He never stops pushing himself into Arthur’s chest, almost as if he’s trying to climb inside and make a home for himself there.

He already has one.

Arthur realizes the wordless asks and answers, holding him as tight as he wants, listening to the tugs in his chest to take care of his Merlin properly, never stops murmuring that yes, this is good, this is alright, Merlin can have whatever he wants, Arthur’s here, he’s here, he’ll take care of Merlin.

He’ll be here. He’ll always be right here.

After, Arthur will ask him softly about the tugs, and Merlin will blush and realize that his magic was asking for help when he couldn’t. Arthur will smile and ruffle his hair and tease him about his magic liking Arthur better than him. The smile will soften when Merlin shakily admits he’s thought the same thing.

After, Merlin will start asking for touch more. He’ll brush his hand against Lancelot’s, sit a little closer to Gwaine or Percival, start accompanying Elyan on his daily walks, or find himself reaching for Leon’s cloak only for Leon to bundle his hand in his and keep it safe.

After, Merlin will slide into bed the moment Arthur opens his arms, letting them both sleep in a little more and enjoy the feeling of warm, warm, warm.

But right now, Merlin is crying in Arthur’s arms and Arthur isn’t going anywhere.

He’ll always be right here.

#merlin #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #merthur #merthur fic #arthur pendragon #knights of camelot #dragonbabbles #fic

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