#sights seen moments before disaster (he bites someone)

[im-captain-basch]

he's just a lil guy your honor

#donkey kong #donkey kong junior #donkey kong jr #mun arts #sights seen moments before disaster (he bites someone)

[daydreaming-in-letters]

Special

11/16/2022

Pairing: Andrew (Hozier) x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,500

Warnings: rpf, language, mentions of alcohol, slightly smutty daydreaming, mentions of online dating disasters, slander, pining, mentions of past heartbreak, fluff

Summary: Andrew has been secretly in love for a long time. Will he finally find it in himself to confess his feelings to his beloved?

A/N: It took me quite a while to finish this, but it was important to me that I did. I've been struggling with my writing for some time now and maybe it shows. Still, this one is special to me and one of the most personal stories I have ever written.

Picture by Joshua Newton via Unsplash (edited)

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. No permission is given to copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

Andrew could feel the cold creeping up on him from behind his back. What had been supposed to be the last night of summer had turned out to be the first night of autumn instead. Probably sensing the crisp bite of nightfall approach, someone had lit a fire hours ago, back when the sun had still been powerful enough to deceive the rest of them for a little longer. The oak logs, now turned into embers of glowing red, still gave off enough heat to keep the whole group outside way past midnight. Not that he would have needed the fire to keep him warm though. Her sight was more than sufficient to drive away the chill in an instant and provide him with enough heat to turn his cheeks pink whenever his eyes lingered for too long and his thoughts began to wander. 

He could have easily sat through the night without their bonfire if only she was there with him. He had to admit though that the fire suited her well, unveiling her full beauty to him once again in all its splendour, like the day he had finally realised he was in love with her. 

Dark shadows and golden lights danced across her face, caressing her soft skin with the tenderness of a lover’s touch. With every flicker of the flames, the glossy sheen of her painted lips twinkled enticingly, as if he would have needed the sight to remind him of the countless times he had yearned to taste them. What drew him in most though were her eyes, they always did. But it was here, in the glow of the fire, that they shone like they did only in the rarest of moments, when she allowed her feelings to breach the surface of her usually so reserved demeanour. 

The fact that he hadn’t seen her in quite a while only added to the effect she had on him. It must have been a good year ago, but the memory was still as vivid as if it had only been a few days. Andrew would never forget the darkness he had seen in her eyes that day. And he would never forgive the one who had put it there. The one she had called her lover back when lightning had first pierced Andrew’s defenceless heart. The one that sat right here by the fire among all their friends, like Judas among the apostels. Maybe even worse. 

With the heed of each and every single one of Argos’ ninety-nine waking eyes, Andrew had watched them all night, searching for even the slightest signs of discomfort on her side, or worse, of phoenix rising from the ashes, but so far nothing alarming had passed between them.

Andrew had always admired former lovers who were able to turn failed romance into friendship, but seeing these two on friendly terms, watching her laugh about his witless jokes as if he hadn’t almost broken her heart beyond repair, made him seriously reconsider the veracity of that belief.

“Oh come on, not again,” someone broke his train of thought with their whiny complaint about the empty cooling bag. “I’m not going all the way up into the kitchen again to fetch you lazy fuckers more booze.”

Immediately more and more voices joined in, eager not to leave their comfortable spots by the fire and walk through the cold and dark of the garden—all but one, and he knew even before her lips had parted that she would take it upon herself to get the supplies from inside the empty house.

“All right,” she uttered with a soft sigh as she stood, “someone hand me the bag. I’ll go.”

Too quick for his brain to catch up on the movement, Andrew found himself on his feet as well and lunged towards the bag, beating her to it without any effort thanks to his long legs.

“I’ll come with you.”

He had feared she would protest, fastening his grip on the handle just in case she would try to yank it out of his hand while telling him she was plenty able to find the way to the fridge by herself. But she didn’t. Instead she just smiled up at him before her lips formed a silent thank you and Andrew was very grateful that his feet somehow remembered how to move on their own.

All evening a thousand questions he wanted to ask her had spiralled through his head. How was she doing? Had life treated her kindly since he had last seen her? God, he hoped it had. Still a part of him wished that didn’t extend to her love life as well and even though he knew it was childish to hope that her heart was still unclaimed because he wanted to make a home in it himself, he did. 

But he probably never would. Especially not since telling her about the feelings he had nursed for so long seemed impossible if he wasn’t even able to start a simple conversation now that they were alone. Maybe it was for the best though, seeing that she obviously wasn’t too keen on starting a conversation either.

It hadn’t always been like this, awkward and unfamiliar, as if they had never talked whole nights through, deeply lost in their own tiny universe where everything orbited around music, poetry, literature, mythology, politics, philosophy and all the other topics the rest of the gang found too profound for a night of drinking and light entertainment. He had lived for those moments, loved to pick her marvellous brain until, if only for a brief point in time, he was able to see the world through her eyes. 

And now he was standing here like a bloody fool, holding the bag for her in silence while she loaded bottle after bottle of cold brew into it. She was so close to him, her unique fragrance filling his senses every time she stirred the air between them when she turned. It was almost completely blanketed by the sharp stench of smoke. Almost. But not to him. He had memorised her scent like his favourite song, ready to recall every single note of it from memory even after all this time. Yet he seldomly allowed himself to do so. It made him careless, made his mind wander off to a place in which he imagined how she would feel, skin on skin. He wondered if she would taste just as good, her salty-sweet aroma still fresh on his tongue as their bodies became one in heated passion. He longed to feel her breath crawling up his neck as she moaned his name in pleasure, yearned to be wrapped tightly in the warmth of her—

“Andrew?”

The touch of her fingers gently pulled him from his fantasy, away from her and still back to her, back into the bleak reality of the kitchen with its buzzing fridge and cold neon lights.

“Huh?” he muttered sheepishly, his brain still unable to form a coherent sentence after what it had just dreamed up.

His irritation seemed to amuse her, a soft giggle breaking through her concern for a split second before she became serious again.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Sure.” He tried his best to sound convincing, but he knew she could read him like a book and so he was quick to add, “How about you?”

“Me? I’m not the one who zoned out for a moment.”

“True.” He smiled down at her, warm and soft. “But that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh.” For the blink of an eye the smile she had shot him in return faltered, and when it steadied on her lips again, it wasn’t quite the same anymore. “I’m good. Fine, actually. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, I just thought…you know…with him being here and all…”

“Ah, I see.” Her hand found his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze before gliding down the length of it and Andrew thought he could feel her touch in his very bones. “It’s very sweet of you to worry about me, but there’s really no need to. After all it was a mutual split.”

Actually, he remembered their breakup a little differently, but if this was the narrative she had chosen to hold onto, he wouldn’t be the one to crush it for her. But when she pulled her hand away from his, it was her who felt the need to correct that statement. 

“Okay, maybe the split itself wasn’t that mutual, but I know now that we had it coming for a long time. And I’ve made my peace with it.”

“That’s good to hear.” Andrew felt the awkward silence lure in the darkness that awaited outside the kitchen and still he needed another moment to gather the courage to ask the one question his heart feared the most and was still desperate to find the answer to. “So…um…are you…is there someone new in your life?”

“God no!” He hadn’t expected that reaction at all and even though he didn’t find his fears confirmed, there was something about her eyes and the tone of her voice that made his heart heavy for her. “I put that hope to rest rather quickly after I started online dating.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Part of him truly was because no matter how much he had wished for her to be single, he would never have wanted it to come at the cost of more hurt.

“No, don’t be. Some of the shit I’ve been through is actually quite amusing in retrospect. Come on, I’ll tell you a few stories on the way back.”

It had taken them quite a while before they could hear the laughter from the fireplace drift over to them again. They had stopped a few times on the way, mostly because he had temporarily forgotten how to walk in the face of the things she had told him. But no matter how he looked at it, amusing was far from the word he would use to describe most of the things she had endured. Disbelief had alternated with rage up to a point that he himself felt awful for even sharing the same sex with this scum. 

After what he had just learned, Andrew couldn’t blame her for losing faith in love, not in the least. If anything, he was surprised how well she seemed to handle everything she had been through. In his eyes it was more than admirable. Of course he had known before that dating was seldomly an easy thing, but until now he had never realised what risks it held for women in a world almost entirely shaped by men.

“Promise me you won’t tell the others, okay? I wouldn’t want them to know. Especially not…”

Despite the darkness he could see her eyes shimmer with embarrassment. What for, he didn’t know. She had nothing to blame herself for. 

“Of course. I promise. Cross my heart.” 

A slender finger moved across his chest in two strokes to support his words and his childlike gesture made her smile. He had hoped it would. What he hadn’t anticipated however was her next move, and as her palm found the very spot he had just marked with a cross, his heart sank into his feet. There was nothing he could do to prevent it from speeding up, forced to stand and watch her catch on to it any second now while he felt its powerful drum underneath the thin layer of skin that covered his neck. 

“So, you still seem to get along with Y/N exceptionally well. Any chances for a reunion then?”

Her hand fell away, his fear of getting caught forgotten immediately, when she turned towards the voices. The little group that sat around the fire was still veiled from view by a few thick bushes, but the teasing tone was enough to imagine the grin on the talker’s face. Andrew and the woman by his side were far from grinning though.

“Not in a million years. We split for a reason, you know.”

“Yeah, I totally understand. She’s kind of…special.”

“You can say that again.”

Even in the dim light that reached their hiding spot from the fire, Andrew could see her face fall. Fascinated and petrified alike by the myriad of emotions that flickered in the treacherous gleam of her eyes, he wished he could do anything but watch disaster unfold right in front of him. He might have thought of something, anything, had he known that they were far from finished with their humiliating ordeal.

“Might be the reason online dating isn’t going too well for her.”

“Honestly, I can’t say that comes as a real surprise.”

The conversation was far from over, but Andrew didn’t care anymore. All he cared about was the pair of wide eyes that seemed to stare right into the darkness of the cosmos as her body stumbled back a few steps.

“Y/N?”

The bag fell into the grass with a thud, the bottles inside clinking dangerously, but all he heard was her trembling voice that mumbled an absentminded excuse.

“I…I’m really tired. I should probably head home.”

And with that she just turned, the hint of an apologetic smile on her face, and let the shadows swallow her. For a second he just stood there, frozen in place by the rising panic inside of him, until the faint noise of a shaky breath carried over to him on the breeze.

“Wait.”

But she didn’t. Of course she didn’t. And why would she? He had done nothing to stop those eejits from their slander and he couldn’t blame her for assuming it was because he secretly agreed with them. 

“Y/N, stop.”

His feet had begun to move at last, hurrying after her as fast as the slippery grass allowed until he could make out her silhouette only an arms-length away and reached for her. 

“Please stop.” 

His voice was soft, but his hold on her wrist wasn’t. He couldn’t let her walk away from him, not like this. Not before he had told her—

But the moment she turned to face him, the words died away in his throat as he took her in in the faint moonlight, two watery lines cascading down her cheeks like streams of stars. Words would not be enough to make them stop. It was foolish, a gesture born from sheer helplessness in the face of his beloved’s despair, but there was no falter in his hands when he pulled her in and sealed her lips with his own. 

It wasn’t at all what he had hoped their first kiss to be like. But at least for a second he could feel her return it, her hands coming up to his chest, fisting the thick denim of his jacket, before she pushed him away.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

His honest bewilderment seemed to be completely lost on her. Instead her chin began to tremble dangerously.

“Don’t be kind to me because I’m sad. Your pity just confirms they are right.”

“Pity? You think this was a gesture of pity?”

Her silence was answer enough and Andrew could see her retreat into her shell again. Soon, she would once more shoot him that apologetic smile and flee the scene, without ever knowing that in this very moment, pity was the last thing he felt for her. 

“What about this then?”

This time, he knew exactly what he was doing. Fully prepared to be pushed away again, to be yelled at or be slapped in the face, he leaned down. Gentle fingers cupped her cheek and he took it as a good sign that she didn’t shy away from his touch. He waited, one last moment for her to stop him, but she didn’t, and so he closed the last gap between them. 

This was what it should have been like the first time. Soft and tender, full of affection, every fibre of his being filled with her until he didn’t know anymore where he ended and she began. Through the haze of his rapture he faintly noticed the soft press of her body against his, unwavering arms wrapping around his neck, and he pulled her closer, securing her in his arms while she moaned her sweet approval into his mouth. 

He could have kissed her like this forever, but he still had a point to prove, a statement to make, and so he pulled away.

“Still think this was a pity kiss?” he panted against her lips and when her answer didn’t come, he pulled away further to look at her. He had hoped to be met with the familiar warmth of her eyes, but he found her gaze fixed on his jacket instead, where she watched her own hands adjust his collar.

“Even if it was—”

“It wasn’t.”

“Still,” she paused for a second, “what they say is true.”

“So? What’s wrong with being special?”

“I think we both know they didn’t mean special in a good way.”

Andrew sighed as his palm found her cheek again. “Maybe they didn’t.” He gently tilted her head and waited patiently until she finally decided to look at him. “But I do. I mean it in the best way possible when I say you’re special to me, Y/N. They may be right, you are complicated. But aren’t we all in our own way? That’s how nature has created us, as absolutely unique individuals, beautifully complicated. None of them may understand this, measuring you by society’s grotesque norms instead, but to me you are easy to love.”

“Andy, I…”

“It’s okay, love. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same about me. I just wanted you to know.”

This was it. He had said what he had wanted to say. Now she would try her best to be gentle in her rejection, thank him for his honesty and leave. He would probably not see her again after tonight. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled as his forehead sank against hers, “I should have told you a long time ago.”

“Maybe, yes. Then again, I don’t think you could have chosen a better moment to tell me than this exact one.”

His brain had no time to process what she had just said, distracted by the hands that found his trembling form again, one gliding into the warm space between his shirt and jacket, the other smoothing along his cheek and into his hair to hold him in place. As if he would ever even consider parting from her in a moment like this. And then he could feel it again for a heartbeat, the feathery touch of her lips on his, ethereal and unreal like a fleeting daydream. 

His next words came in a whisper against her own, anxious if he lost their touch, he might wake from this dream after all. “Do you still want to get out of here?”

“Desperately.”

“Will you let me walk with you then? Just to make sure my special girl gets home safe and sound.”

“I think,” she said quietly, her breath leaving a honeyed due on his lips, “that’s the best idea you had tonight.” Slowly he moved, still reluctant to part from her, and it was only when he had secured her hand safely in his own that he dared to pull away and began walking. “Your best idea apart from that pity kiss, maybe.”

“I told you, woman, it wasn’t a pity kiss.” 

It was too dark to see her now, the moonlight shielded from them by the thick branches of a fir tree that hung above. And so, there was nothing he could do but squeeze her hand to make his protest known. 

“Bollocks,” she huffed teasingly as she squeezed back, causing Andrew to stop in his tracks.

“Do I need to show you again?”

“It surely won’t hurt.”

She squealed in surprise as he wrapped his arm around her middle and manoeuvred her backwards. With a soft groan, her spine was pressed into the gnarly bark of the tree while her head landed securely against the back of a large hand that shielded it from impact. 

“Kiss me, Andrew,” she breathed into the expectant silence, her fingers finding his lush curls again and guiding him towards the source of her heady whisper. And he did. Until he could feel the world around him starting to spin. He could have blamed it on the lack of oxygen or the darkness around them that heightened his senses, maybe even on the mere fact that this kiss had seemed so utterly unthinkable by the beginning of this evening, but he knew too well that it was the woman in his arms who made this kiss the most special he had ever shared. A kind of special he vowed to always cherish and never take for granted.

#hozier x reader #hozier #hozier fanfiction #hozier imagine #hozier fic #hozier fanfic #Andrew hozier byrne #special

[officialleehadan]

More Bite than Bark

Ballet Heels

+++

“Someone upset Cami. I want to ruin their lives.”

Julian looked up to see Sanderson standing in the door of his office. The genius was, as always, garbed in a worn hoodie and the very softest of cotton pants, and sported an uncharacteristically furious expression on his face.

Julian had only seen that expression on Sanderson’s face twice before. Both times preceded a truly staggering flood of vindictive malice. A kinder person might disapprove, but Julian was not most people.

If someone had upset Camille, he would enthusiastically rain fire upon them.

“Where is she, who are they, and what did they do?” he asked, all veneer of politeness and humanity gone as Sanderson stormed in and paced like a trapped tiger. He didn’t even go for the coffee, which told Julian just how serious it was. Is Cami safe?”

“I dropped her off at your condo. It has the best security,” Sanderson said, just barely mollified by Julian’s immediate attention and concern. “One of the paparazzi people got into her school and asked a bunch of nasty questions. There are rumors that you’re paying her for sex and that’s the only reason you’re willing to be seen with her. She got called into a meeting with one of the school’s directors, but she wouldn’t tell me what they said. She came home early. She was crying.”

White-hot rage left Julian blinded for several long breaths. Only years of practice allowed him to shove it down where it boiled painfully in his chest.

“Which tabloid?” he asked through gritted teeth even as he grabbed for his phone. He sent off a hurried, reassuring text to Cami, promising that he would handle everything, and a second one to the ruthless shark of a lawyer who ran his legal team. A third text went to his public relations team. “Names, Sanderson.”

“Inner-City Insider.”

Damn it all. One of the most aggressive, and the nastiest of the tabloids. Unfortunately, they were also well-connected in the higher end of society. It didn’t change Julian’s plan, but it meant they were going to have to get their hands a little dirty to deal with it.

Not that he had ever minded handing out a healthy dose of vengeance. Apparently it had been too long since he taught the business world how nasty his bite really was. A year of happy pictures with his beautiful girlfriend must have convinced them that he had mellowed out.

The sound of running feet announced his head of legal, who understood that when Julian texted his personal number, the matter was dire and his boss was furious. It didn’t happen often, but every now and then, someone crossed Julian badly enough for him to ruin them. The sight of Sanderson, scowling darkly and still pacing, told George just how badly things had gone sideways.

The only other time Julian and Sanderson worked together to end someone was back in school. George hadn’t been there for that disaster, but he had probably heard stories. Everyone knew that while Sanderson was mostly harmless, he was sometimes not at all harmless, and could wreak a great deal of damage in a very small amount of time.

Moments later, the clatter of heels on tile announced Elaine, Julian’s head of Public outreach. Like George, she knew that a personal text meant that things had gone well beyond ‘bad’ and right into ‘how much damage can an angry billionaire with a bad temper really do’ territory. Julian didn’t even mind that she was probably already in damage-control mode, since damage control was, to an extent, what he wanted at the moment.

“Someone for Inner-City Insider is implying that my girlfriend is a sex worker,” Julian said without preamble, and without letting them catch their breath. They could breathe when the problem was handled. “And suggesting that I am her client. George, you are aware of my arrangement with Camille. I expect you to come up with an air-tight legal defense if Julliard attempts to expel Camille over this matter. Elaine. We are purchasing Inner-City. Work with Legal. I don’t care how much it costs. Send me the paperwork. I’ll pay for it privately.”

He had more than enough money to throw around, and it was worth it to make this point inescapably clear to anyone foolish enough to think that delving too deeply into his private matters was a safe life decision.

“What do I tell them if they refuse to sell?”

“Present them with an extremely expensive and extremely public lawsuit regarding slander, accusations of criminal behavior, trespassing on private property, and emotional suffering. George, make it hurt.”

“Yes Sir,” George said, utterly cut-throat, which was why Julian kept him on his payroll. He didn’t have any time for lawyers that weren’t thirsty for blood. “I’m sure we can make something stick somewhere painful.”

“I have every faith in you. Go. Elaine, stay a moment longer.”

George went, no longer at a run, but then, he was a shark, and the only time sharks moved fast was when something else was trying to eat them. Now that George was confident that he was not the target of Julian’s wrath, he would handle everything smoothly.

Elaine sat when Julian nodded her towards a seat. She was texting furiously, probably with her team. He let her do it. She was even more competent than George. Julian paid her a fortune with some staggeringly generous benefits, and she returned every penny on that investment in spades.

“HR has been after me to take a vacation for more than a year,” he said, calmer now that George was off on his business, and the wheels were already turning to solve the issue cleanly. “And I’ve never done a personal interview beyond a few think-pieces for the more educational magazines. I think it’s time that changed.”

“Are we addressing the rumors?” Elaine asked professionally, still texting, although she stopped to give him her full attention. “Beyond George’s work and buying the tabloid, I mean. Also, what are we doing with Inner-City?”

“Rebrand it into an arts-and-charity focus. Feature new and upcoming artists. And no, we’re not addressing the rumors,” Julian said. This was what he was good at. This fast-paced business world was what he had been raised for. He didn’t often throw his money around, but that just meant he had more of it to throw. “We’re doing a piece on Cami and I, and specifically on our relationship. Sanderson, you and I are running one before I take Cami on vacation. We’re going to focus on our long friendship. I’ll have my stylist work with you.”

Sanderson winced, but he understood that everything Julian was doing now was damage control. While Sanderson might refuse to work with anyone else most of the time, he and Julian had been friends for a long time. This wasn’t about either of them. It was about protecting Cami.

“Tell me when and where. Can I wear my usual suit?”

“No, but my stylist will work with you on cut and fabric.”

Sanderson winced again, but gave in with gritted teeth. Julian shared a nod with him. They would do anything for their girl. She might be Julian’s girlfriend, but she had been Sanderson’s best friend for longer.

“About the vacation,” Elaine asked tentatively, finished texting for the moment, although she would start again as soon as Julian finished giving her marching orders. “Where, when, and for how long. I assume we’re doing the couple interview somewhere romantic?”

“I’m thinking Vienna or Paris,” Julian said, mind whirling. Paris was a good choice. Cami had never been, but spoke dreamily about the performing arts scene. Better yet, it was far enough away to give them a hazy lens of distance from the city. “Two weeks. Maybe three. Reach out to Cami’s school. Make sure they understand why she is going away for a while, and that there will be no consequences for her absence. They’ve dealt with high-profile students and claim to have a strict anti-harassment policy. It’s time for them to prove it.”

“I’ll arrange anything. The company has a penthouse in Paris. Will that do?”

“Yes. Arrange it. I’ll manage my own calendar arrangements and entertainment while we’re there.”

Well, he would have his assistant do it, but Worthington was an expert at managing his schedule and would get his own Paris visit out of it, settled comfortably in a all-expenses-paid hotel nearby with every amenity. Yes, it would be a work trip for him, but Julian wouldn’t need him much while they were there.

His employees were loyal because he treated them well and paid them a fortune. It worked out.

When Elaine was done texting again, he thought over everything and nodded once, before he stood. She rose to her feet and he offered her a nod.

“You know what to do. If I thought you needed managing, I wouldn’t have hired you,” he told her, as close to friends with her as he could be with an employee. “Keep me updated.”

“Yes Sir,” she said, with a smile that was almost as vicious as George’s. “Don’t worry, Sir. We’ll rain fire. You have a good vacation with Miss Mills. I’ll arrange the interview in Paris, we’ll go live as soon as it’s ready, and everything will be settled by the time you’re back.”

“Good. Go.”

She went. Julian waited until the door closed again before he looked over at Sanderson.

“We film our interview in two days,” he said, and allowed some of his own emotion to show. He hated that Cami was under fire, just because of her association with him. Sanderson was weird. Nobody took suggestions of romance seriously with him. Julian, however, was rich, seemed normal, and was under thirty. He was a prize half the city wanted to claim, and his name always made news. “It will go live while Cami and I are in Paris. The interview with her and me will go live shortly before we return.”

Sanderson pondered that. If it was for anyone else, he would have refused, but for Cami, he would make it work, even if it meant uncomfortable clothes and an interview, which he was historically terrible at.

“I’ll figure it out. Worthington can get me down to the stylist,” he decided and fiddled with his sleeves. “You should go to Cami and tell her all this. She’s… she doesn’t need me. She needs you.”

“I know,” Julian allowed himself the smallest smile to reassure his friend, and stood. His coat was handy, and everything he had to finish for today could be managed by someone else for the moment. “Come on. Everyone has their marching orders. “Don’t worry, Sanderson. I’ll settle this. Anyone who thinks Cami is a safe target is about to get a violent lesson about why I rule a fortune 500 company at twenty-five.”

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Ballet Heels:

Cut a Dance Floor

Shuriken Toaster

Agreement in Paper 

Rivals and Friends

Arm in Arm  (Subscriber Only!)

Secret Steps

Dance the Steps  (Subscriber Only!)

Along a Logging Road

Dapper Diamond

Festival Festival (Subscriber Only!)

Takes Two

Society Splash (Subscriber Only!)

Pas de Trois

Introduction Leap

Plotters Plotting

More Bite than Bark (New!)

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MASTERLIST

#Write #writer #written #writing prompt #prompt #prompts #story #novel #fantastic #romance #romantic #love #spilled ink #spilled writing #spilled romance #spilled feelings #supernatural #writeblr #lee hadan #pretty #art #artistic #music #inspiration #long post

[yostresswritinggirl]

and, if Albedo have his own personal botanist, what about xiao have his own personal chef, or something like that? the reader working at wangshu inn as the chef or maid 👀 (this the request... If you want to make something from this absurd idea 👀👀)

Hehe I like your thought process, anon. Albedo and Xiao really just: 😏👉👉 *finger guns* 👈👈 😑 for having reader assistants in my masterlist huh.

Making this solely a personal chef/maid thing would defo make this response hella short so I added in more info and background just like I did with Albedo's, so I hope you guys end up enjoying this one too!!

It isn't an absurd idea, but I sure as hell made an absurd answer to it kek

Xiao's Devoted "Chef"

Xiao with a Reader who is not only his Personal Chef but assistant

Background (let's gooo)

The arrival of the Adepti Yaksha in Wangshu Inn was really something I've been intrigued about for a while now, but I won't make much assumptions here because his banner is coming and more info would be given to us.

Xiao had long since been residing in and spends a majority of his time in this Inn yet its owners, Verr Goldet and Huai'an, barely knows anything about the adepti or his lifestyle.

So on a sunny, quaint day like any other where calmness passes through the lands without worry, they expected the Adepti to resign himself to a moment of peace and rest too.

So color them surprised when they save the familiar silhouette of the adepti ascending to the top floor. Porcelain white skin and clear tank top glittered with fresh blood as a broken and bruised figure lays unconscious in his arms. The couple was thankful that there were no customers out and about that day, because it would be a disaster for an audience to witness such a thing. Also bad for business, but they'll hold that in at the back of their mind.

Skilled workers were quick to work with their seemingly extensive experience with such a protocol. As they tended to the victim, the Boss stayed behind to tend to and inquire with the Adepti. Yet such a conversation between them came out strained:

There were no visible wounds that require immediate medical attention but there was a look in his eyes that feels much more broken than anything they can fix. Verr's hands hover over him in an attempt to urge him to clean up his still bloodied form. His amber eyes that were usually sharp looks through a distance light-years away.

"Xiao," the woman started and the eyes snapped out of its reverie, subtly looking around to ground himself. "What happened? And are you okay?"

"Their- the parents died from a Hilichurl ambush, I was only able to save the child," his crossed arms gripped at his forearm in the realization of his utter mistake. "32 seconds."

"32 seconds?" The Mondstadtian offered a fresh set of hot towels he had taken, and he had flinched when he saw the carnage that stuck close to his skin.

"I was 32 seconds late."

Your parents were adventurers who brought you with them as big fans of traveling and nomadic lifestyle, no set home yet freely living by. You were in your younger teens and you'd clarified you had no other family to go to.

The death of your parents came as an obvious shock to your young self yet you grieved in silence and sobs, as the only person you trust hovers next to where you rest in silent contemplation.

Verr knows that look, and it was something she hasn't seen on the Adepti before. Of pure guilt and a sense of responsibility.

That night you rested surprisingly nightmare-free as your savior stands his ground next to where you rest.

Present Times

The couple had adopted you into the Inn family without a second's hesitance and you were thankful for them as you were to Xiao. You were no heavy expense or disadvantage and that made it all the more easier to adapt into your new lifestyle.

Despite no words or explanation, you were perfectly aware of the deeds your savior had done to save you and keep you alive, and with that you had sworn to serve him until the end of your time. A life for a life, equivalent exchange.

Coming into terms with being in Liyue and the Inn, your life choices were meddled with commerce and the importance of livelihood. You were young but your guilt of being under the care of such people forced you to take on any and every responsibility you can handle.

Despite your background you were expertly skilled with cooking. Your mother and father always taught you the importance of a meal for adventurers whenever you'd camped out. And your special touch on dishes that saves adventurers had drawn in many appetites.

Business boomed and the Inn wasn't just famous for being a temporary residence, but a sanctuary that offers tastes paired with the divine sense of Celestia. You became Wangshu Inn's Head Chef, with your sous-chef Smiley Yanxiao.

At times where Xiao is forced to make rounds to seize looming threats, he'd find himself picking fresh and healthy ingredients he'd find on the way back and present to you for new recipes to experiment on.

But you also pride yourself with a different title, or titles: The Adepti's Personal Chef, Tender of the Yaksha, Adepti's Devotee.

This title was emphasized by the Sigil of Permission sewn into an armband hanging by your right arm, something you proudly wear even beyond the walls of the Inn.

You found out the Adepti's favorite during your daily visit and breaks, usually done so by hanging out in the balcony with him with a brand new recipe you recently made and wanted to test out.

While he sat parallel to you, he eyed the transparent syrup and the gelatinous substance in the obvious curiousity he shows for all your new creations, silently awaiting your opinion by watching your expression: whenever you show even the slightest distaste, he'll pointedly ignore his curiousity and the dish altogether. And if you express such pride and achievement, his interest will get the better of him, if you haven't offered the dish quickly enough.

"What is this?" He'd finally ask after your delighted moans, indulging on your own creation.

"Mmm, Almond Tofu... do you wish to try it?" Without an answer he'd pick up the only spoon on the plate and tasted it himself. And just like that, he'd froze, eyes full blown in surprise and awe.

"Do you like it?" He can only hum in response as he scarfs down the plate by himself, chewing respectfully yet with a hint of vigor in every scoop. "It tastes... like dreams..." the way he looked at you, with eyes possessing such childlike wonder, you couldn't help but fall.

After that, Xiao had requested a daily plate/offering of it. It became a routine to the point that all workers heard of the favoritism and are encouraged to learn the recipe. But it's usually your dish that is served, unless special occasions calls for someone else.

There has been an influx of dormers and adventurers recently as citizens around Teyvat flock to the Liyue continent in hopes to watch the most extravagant celebration of the new year, the Lantern Rite Festival.

Your best efforts manning the kitchen together with Yanxiao took gruelling hours just to prepare for the dinner's first course even with hours of prep time available. Even both bosses had to lend some hands as your sous-chef can barely keep up with your stride. And after the dishes are finally distributed to the dining hall, you were already set in cleaning up the kitchen, and before you knew it-

"It has been an hour."

"It was a busy day, I'm sorry, Xiao." You could only muster a mumble in guilt as you kept your head down on the usual table, refusing to look at the disapproving expression he definitely wore, except he doesn't. His face has the slightest hints of worry and wonder at your deflated composure.

But his focus now was on the food he has been craving the whole day, already digging into his dessert. And you just tried your hardest not to fall asleep on the cold, wooden tabletop. Until your tummy rumbled through the silence.

A hum. "You haven't eaten?" You shake your head as you lift your head, gazing at the cute sight of your guardian tilting his head to the side in slight distaste for your lifestyle. You open your mouth to retort until you felt the cold utensil touch your bottom lip. "Here, I saved you the last bite. After this, get yourself a meal and retreat to your quarters, I don't want to hear any excuses." He softly urges a little push with the spoon so you get the hint, and you wrap your lips around it, chewing and gulping down cold dessert. He offered his favorite food, used the same spoon, and spoon fed you with it—

"Wha... don't- don't bite the spoon," you squeeze your eyes tight from the embarrassing thoughts in your head.

When people wish to have an audience with Xiao, most of the time they head to you for guidance after inquiring with Verr. They require a sigil of permission, and most of the times, your own sigil has been under fire a lot in their desperation.

An old merchant who desperately wants to hire the adepti to aid his caravan with personal security once tried to claw at your armband, but a split second after the tip of his fingers had touched the cloth, he was blown away to the nearest wall.

"What-," a pressure on your left shoulder pulls your other against a lean chest, protectively squeezing as a polearm materialized in front of you. You can feel the ragged vibrations of the Yaksha's unusually heavy breaths, his amber eyes sharp and dangerous, dilated like a predator.

"What gives you the idea that you had the authority to lay a hand on my assistant?" Black and teal embers conjure around you two as a dark shadow slowly creeps up from the ground. "That is their sigil of permission; I want nothing to do with you mere mortals."

If not for Verr and the other staff, things would have gone gruesome and unsightly for the business. Yes, business. Everyone disliked the guy enough to care more about the Inn than his actual well-being. When he'd come to, he was forced out of the Inn (he would have done so himself anyways as he was already traumatized).

"Sir Xiao, why did you do that?"

"He didn't have a Sigil, he was pretty much asking for it. And why have you gone formal?" You pouted at him and his only response was a quirked eyebrow. Walking over to stand behind him, you slowly wiggled your arms through the gap between his waist and slack arms, finding it easy enough with how thin his waist is as you wrapped him in a hug.

He tensed from the secretly ticklish feeling before letting down his guard in your arms. This was one of your leeway as his most devoted follower. Your constant exposure with the aid of the divine sigil has made you immune to the negative effects of Adeptal energy, enough to make him nigh worry about your safety around him anymore.

And him letting you hug him like this... let's just say it's from your mannerisms of comfort when you were still young and around him.

"Take an indefinite leave," Xiao broke the silence a few minutes after, forcing you to crane your head to the side to look at him. He meets your gaze with an amused glint. "You have no debt to pay here, you shouldn't be holed up in a place like this."

"It is true that me leaving wouldn't have majooor repercussions, but what's with the sudden idea?"

He huffs. "You're my only follower and yet you divide your attention serving temporary mortals that will pass by without remembrance. And besides," you tense at the sight of an upturn on the edge of lip, pearly whites subtly peeking, "personal does not mean sharing."

You were an adventurer at heart and it's time you indulge in that glorified life of excitement, with your guardian by your side. It was the only gift he can come up with for your undying devotion.

Holy - I had to cut this thing A LOT because I wrotE A HECKIN LOT WTF?! It's not even done in my mind, my goodness, there should be an adventuring unit here too but hhhh I got too conscious of the length sksksks I'm so sorry! P-Part 2-?

I enjoyed writing this a tad bit too much sksksks but now that the second to the last installation of this even is published, the next request should be the last one! And that means I'll have to stop the poll and start working on the requests for the 100 followers one! So if you haven't voted there, you should before it's too late!!

#exile.flower #exile.goblet #genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact oneshots #genshin impact xiao #xiao #xiao x reader #i. fucked up #why do i always go haywire when given a simple prompt #i think this went too far hmm #followers special #gender neutral

[crackheadgeminibby]

better for you

pairing: chris evans x female!black!reader

warnings: age gap, angst, language

word count: 2.7k

a/n: this lowkey sucks and is very poorly edited, i’m sorry but on the plus side, i surpassed 400 followers yesterday!! so thank you to those 400+ people🤍🤍

i do not consent to my work being copied in any way, shape of form or reposted on any other platform

not my picture

You didn’t consider yourself a jealous person. Much less a jealous girlfriend. Not at all. Never had and you thought you never would.

You had practically raised yourself as your parents had always been more preoccupied with their jobs. You loved your parents, you really did, but when your high school counselor told you that you could graduate high school a year and a half early, you took the opportunity to start college immediately and move out of your parents’ house. This drastic change when you were so young made you become extremely independent. Which is why your relationship with Chris worked almost perfectly. You valued your independence, as he did his, and you respected his independence, as he did yours.

As a corporate lawyer that had multiple firms around the country, you traveled a lot, needing to meet with clients. Chris, as an actor, also traveled a lot.

You both trusted the other without a doubt at the beginning of the relationship despite that Chris was, at first, a little wary of being with someone as young as you. As a 24-year-old, he thought that you should be living your life, partying, sleeping with whomever you wanted without being tied down, but you had explained to him that despite your age, those were not the things that you wanted.

You and Chris were truly made for each other, knowing the other more than they knew themselves. You would even dare to call yourselves soulmates.

Which is why you could not fathom why you were in your current situation.

You had left early in the day for California, where you were overseeing the opening and start-up of your newest firm. Chris, on the other hand, had left 3 days ago to go on some trip his publicist had arranged for him. You hadn’t bothered asking what it was about, assuming that it was about ASP. Plus, you didn’t mind it: he had to do what he had to do.

But now, you couldn’t believe yourself.

You were sitting on your hotel bed, in a white and fluffy robe, fresh out of the shower. Your computer was open in front of you, the TV was blaring the news and you had your phone in your hand. It was almost 11pm but you had been doing this for at least 3 hours. All three electronics were talking about the same thing: Are Chris Evans and Lily James dating??

It was a bit your fault that people gave themselves the right to assume things like that, to be honest, since you had been the one to pressure Chris about keeping your relationship secret. You knew that people would talk and judge you for your 15-year age gap. You, personally, didn’t care and neither did Chris but his career was dependent on his public image and you didn’t want to hold him back, especially not at a pivotal moment in his life like right now.

So, you had agreed on telling your families and your very close friends and Chris had convinced you to let him tell his publicist, Megan. God, she fucking hated you. When Chris arranged for you guys to meet, she had called you “a walking, breathing PR disaster”. You had laughed it off calling her funny, but you knew that she was 100% serious. You really shouldn’t have been surprised that she would do something so fucked up at some point.

A bunch of different news outlets were pumping out new stories every 30 minutes, each article a little more detailed than the previous. It was all over the Internet and it seemed to be the only thing that people cared about today.

Considering the 8-hour difference between London and San Francisco, you hadn’t been able to talk to Chris at all since you got to your hotel. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to talk to him. He hadn’t even tried to talk to you. Why was he avoiding you and acting like he had something to hide?

You’re reading the latest Daily Mail article on your computer about how Chris and Lily apparently got to his hotel in the same car when you hear your phone ring on the nightstand. You don’t even bother looking at the caller ID as you reach for your phone, eyes still glued to your computer and answer,

“Hello?”

You hear a loud exhale on the other end of the phone before you hear Chris’ tired voice, “Baby, hi.”

You tense up slightly before asking, trying to seem nonchalant, “What’s up?”

“Have you watched the news today?”

You bite your lip, thinking, before replying, lying through your teeth, “No, why? What’s going on?”

Chris sighs again before answering, “Nothing, it’s fine. How was your day?”

You roll your eyes. Was he seriously not going to say anything?

“Fine, but it’s really late and I have to get up early tomorrow so good night.”

You hang up the phone before Chris can answer anything. You throw the phone at the end of your bed, frustrated beyond belief.

You continue to read the Daily Mail article as you hear a message coming in. You don’t bother to get up to pick up your phone as you see the message appear on your computer screen a couple of seconds later.

chris💙, 11:01pm:

Good night baby girl. Good luck tomorrow🤍

You groan loudly at his message. Even when he had pissed you the fuck off, his words still brought butterflies to your stomach.

You disregard his message and finish reading the article. You roll your eyes as you close your computer and get up to put it on the hotel desk. As you’re walking back to bed, you take your phone from the end of the bed and put it on its charger, ready to go to bed.

You’re not sure how you manage to fall asleep that night as your mind swirls with unending thoughts.

When your alarm wakes you up at 6am the next day, you feel groggy, having slept very badly last night. Which was to be expected.

You get up and change while eating a protein bar before heading to the hotel gym: you needed to do something to get your energy up. Once you finish your workout, you head back to your room to get ready for the day.

When you get out of the shower, you open your computer and, having left the Daily Mail website open last night, you see a new article posted 2 minutes ago: Chris Evans and Lily James seen on a date in a London park.You groan loudly, closing your computer as you hear that your cell phone is receiving multiple texts.

You reach for your phone on the hotel desk and your eyes widen as you see your lock screen.

5 missed calls

12 messages

You open your Phone app seeing one call from Chris, two from your best friend, one from your brother and one from your mom.

You open the Messages app as a new message from your brother comes in.

will, 7:31am:

When did you break up with your boyfriend? And why didn’t you tell me?

you, 7:32am:

i didn’t

yet

will, 7:32am:

You know i’m gonna fucking murder him right?

You smile fondly at your brother’s concern, chuckling softly as you type your reply.

you, 7:33am:

as you should(:

You open the rest of your messages, mostly asking the same thing. You didn’t feel like talking about it anymore so, you ignore them until you get to your conversation with Chris.

chris💙, 5:22am:

Hey, I’m sure you’ve seen the articles by now.

I’m so sorry

Call me when you can, please. I really need to talk to you.

You bite your lip as you think about what to answer. You didn’t have the energy to deal with this right before your firm’s opening. Shaking your head, you lock your phone, putting it back on the desk, getting dressed.

As you get back to your hotel room, exhausted from your day, you hear your phone signal an incoming text for the millionth time today.

You sigh loudly: you knew it was Chris texting you again. You had been ignoring his texts all day because you didn’t want to get in a bad mood while you were opening the firm.

You put your purse and work bag on the floor, unlocking your phone. You open the conversation with Chris, scrolling through his messages.

chris💙, 6:15pm:

I’m leaving a bit earlier than I planned, I should be home tomorrow morning.

Are you back in Boston or are you gonna stay in LA?

You sigh, feeling guilty that you had been ignoring his texts all day. You start typing a reply, your finger hovering over the send button for a couple of seconds before clicking on it.

you, 6:17pm:

i’m still in san francisco i’m leaving tomorrow morning

As soon as your message goes through, you see the three dots pop up in the conversation.

chris💙, 6:17pm:

Oh my God, hi. Are you okay?

Can I call you?

You chew on your bottom lip: you really didn’t think he was going to answer that fast.

you, 6:18pm:

i’m about to take a shower then i’m gonna go to bed i’m really tired sorry

chris💙, 6:18pm:

Okay, I’m sorry

Good night

You groan loudly. You really didn’t know why you felt so guilty: he was the one running around with another woman. As you think about this, you realize that you didn’t really know who she was.

You shake your head at yourself as you pull up Google on your phone and look for her. You don’t even realize it but, 20 minutes later, you were now at the oldest post on her Instagram.

You curse at yourself, dropping your phone on your bed, and head to the shower.

You stay under the hot stream of the shower for at least an hour before you finally get out, toweling off.

You order some room service for dinner, settling down in front of a random show playing on the TV. After pushing your food around for half an hour, you sigh loudly, put the tray on the hotel desk and get under the covers before finally falling asleep.

You had not slept very well so you had been in a rush to leave the hotel and catch your flight to LAX in the morning. You were exhausted and hungry when you got to your shared LA home with Chris but there was no food in sight, considering that neither of you had been here in a couple of months.

As it was not too late in the day, you decide to take a nap and order some food after.

When you wake up a few hours later, the sun has already completely set and the house is pitch black. You rub the sleep out of your eyes and take your phone before heading to the living room to order some food.

As you enter the kitchen and are about to head to the living room, you hear a deep voice, “Hey, you’re up.”

Taken by surprise, you throw your phone in the direction of the sound and scream, “Holy shit!”

“Ow… What the fuck?”

You’re breathing heavily, clutching your chest as you turn on the kitchen lights, brightness illuminating the area as you see Chris holding the side of his head.

“Jesus Christ, Chris! You almost gave me a fucking heart attack!”

Chris rubs at his head as he looks towards you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Your heartbeat starts to slow down as you roll your eyes.

“What are you even doing here?”

Chris frowns and replies, “Well, you never told me where you were going to be but when I got back to Boston and you weren’t there, I assumed you were coming here.”

You groan silently, crossing your arms over your chest and raising your eyebrows,

“So, London seemed to be very fun.”

Chris shakes his head, looking up at the ceiling, before making eye contact with you, “I didn’t know that’s what the trip was about.”

You chuckle humorlessly, “Really, Chris? Since when do you go on trips, not knowing what they’re about?”

Chris exhales loudly, taking a couple of steps towards you, “I promise that I didn’t know. Megan planned everything and just sent me the info.”

You snort loudly, rolling your eyes. Chris frowns before asking, “What?”

“Megan, Chris? Really? She fucking hates me, of course she would pull a stunt like this.”

Chris frowns again, shaking his head, “What are you talking about? She doesn’t hate you.”

You laugh, this time, actually finding this funny, “Chris, she literally called me a walking disaster.”

Chris struggles to find an answer to that: he knew that Megan used this exact kind of formulation so he couldn’t deny it.

“And you know what? It’s fine. Maybe you really should be dating her instead of me.”

Chris’ face contorts in a mix of hurt and anger, “Why the fuck would you say something like that?”

“Because it’s true, Chris. She’s better for you. She’s actually your age, not a fucking child compared to you. She can give you the things you want from life that I can’t. Maybe it’s better that way.”

“What way?”

You shrug your shoulders, looking at your feet, mumbling, “If we weren’t together.”

Chris scoffs, “You literally have to be kidding me.”

Chris takes large steps, making his way towards you and takes your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him.

“Y/N, I’ve told you before and I will tell you again. I do not give a shit about your age. And I thought you didn’t either. So, what’s the problem here?”

You bite your bottom lip nervously, “Because what if what Megan said is true? I mean… If people find out that we’re dating, the shit talking would never stop. I can’t do that to you.”

Chris sighs, enveloping you in a hug.

“Baby, it doesn’t matter. None of it matters if we’re not together.”

He lets you go, stroking your cheek, “You’re it for me. There is no one better for me than you. And no one is going to take that away from us. Not you. Not Megan. And certainly not my fans. If they love me as much as they say they do, then they’ll respect you.”

You chuckle slightly, “Chris, I don’t know what kind of fantasy you live in, but in real life, that’s not how things go.”

“Okay, but who cares? There’s two people in this relationship, you and me. Not you, me, Megan and my fans.”

You scoff, mumbling, “Yeah, tell Megan that.”

“I will. The same goes for her. I didn’t know she actually meant those things about you and I’ll tell her that she needs to knock that shit off.”

You sigh, nodding slightly, “Okay.”

“And, baby, I’m sorry.”

You furrow your brows, trying to understand, “I never should have agreed to Megan’s little plan thing. But, most importantly, I should have told you as soon as I knew. It’s just that I kinda owed Lily a favor and she needed this. But it doesn’t erase the fact that I should have been honest with you and I’m sorry I wasn’t.”

You sigh, “I know, it’s okay. I knew this kind of thing could happen when I decided to be with you, and I overreacted a bit so I’m sorry too. I knew it wasn’t true and I should have asked you about it instead of ignoring you. I just… couldn’t let go of the fact that maybe you should be with her.”

Chris shakes his head, “I shouldn’t. And I never will be.”

Chris laughs a bit before continuing, “Sorry, but you’ll have to try harder to get rid of me.”

You laugh loudly, throwing your head back. Looking back at Chris, you smile warmly before hugging him,

“I love you, Chris. Like, a lot.”

Chris chuckles, squeezing you tighter, “I love you too.”

#chris evans #chris evans x black!reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfic #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x woc #chris evans fanfictions #chris evans fanfics

[chocolvte]

NCT REACTION — how the dreamies would spend valentine’s day with their s/o

AUTHOR’S NOTE — hi everyone! i hope everyone has a lovely valentine’s day, whether you have a special someone to spend it with or not <3 this is all just tooth rottingly sweet fluff, so if you’re a romantic at heart, this post is for you!

LISTEN TO — love story (taylor’s version) by taylor swift

MARK

“aww, baby are you cold?” mark laughs, wrapping his arms around your shivering body.

when he suggested you go ice skating for valentine’s day, you thought it would be a fun opportunity to hold his hand and get hot cocoa afterwards. you weren’t expecting to practically freeze to death.

“i told you this sweater wasn’t going to be warm enough,” mark scolded gently, taking off his own scarf to wrap around your neck.

“beauty is pain, mark. everyone knows that,” you say, clearly in a grouchy mood. mark wants to coo at you, you look so adorable when you’re upset, but he bites back the urge.

“you must be in pain all the time then,” he flirts, leaning forward to kiss your frozen nose. his lips are hot against your skin.

“come on,” he says, holding out both his hands to you. “come skate with me. i’ll make sure you don’t fall.”

“didn’t you JUST wipe out like five minutes ago?”

“yo, what? that wasn’t me.”

RENJUN

“should we add sprinkles?” renjun holds up a container of tiny heart shaped ones in one hand and another of red circles in the other. “or would that be too much?”

the batter of your already busy red velvet chocolate chip cupcakes sits between you on the counter, amid streaks of flour and mini chocolate chips that missed the bowl.

“let’s put them on top instead,” you decide, tapping the container of pink hearts. “and let’s use the hearts. they’re so cute!”

“yes, chef,” renjun saluts you playfully.

getting the batter into your cupcake pan makes another mess, but they smell so good in the oven that you almost don’t mind having to clean.

“here, you’ve got some frosting on your nose,” renjun says, leaning over to lick the tip of your nose. your whole face scrunches and he laughs at you. “i love you so much.”

JENO

it’s been months since you’ve seen jeno’s face in person and not through a facetime call, and you were honestly expecting to spend valentine’s day alone this year.

so when you heard someone leaning on your doorbell bright and early on february 14, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of your favorite person standing in the doorway with a bouquet of pink and red flowers and a giant smile.

“oh my god!”

jeno laughed, opening his arms for you. he hugged you like he hadn’t seen you in YEARS not just the three short months he had been working.

“happy valentine’s day,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“happy valentine’s day,” you couldn’t stop smiling. “i missed you so much!”

“me too,” jeno cupped your face, giving you a real kiss this time. “but now you get me for a whole weekend.”

HAECHAN

it took a moment for the smell of smoke to register in your brain before you fully woke up, jumping out of bed and running to your kitchen where haechan, your stupid, adorable boyfriend, was frantically waving a dish towel at the tower of flames on the stove.

“haechan, oh my god!”

“y/n! noooo, go back to bed! this is a surprise!” haechan took a break from flapping the dish towel at the fire to shove you back towards the doorway.

“it’s definitely a surprise,” you winced.

haechan’s shoulders dropped and a little pout formed on his face as he realized that the special valentine’s day breakfast he planned wasn’t turning out the way he hoped.

“sorry,” he frowned, looking at the smouldering mess on top of your stove. “i was just trying to do something nice, but this is kind of a disaster isn’t it?”

you laughed, leaning forward to kiss your poor boyfriend’s lips. “it’s okay, haechannie. just come back to bed with me.”

haechan made a face at you before quickly scooping you up and over his shoulder, leaving the smoky mess in your kitchen behind for something much more pressing: valentine’s day cuddles.

JAEMIN

jaemin is the type of boyfriend to think about your valentine’s day plans for WEEKS in advance. he wants to make it the most special, magical day for you.

he would take you on one of those adorable picnics with like a charcuterie board and lunchbox cakes. he’s definitely going to ask all of your friends what you want and what your favorite things are.

“happy valentine’s day, darling!”

he’d surprise you. he ties a blindfold around your head and then leads you by hand over to the picnic spot he picked out after researching the best places to have one and carefully slip the blindfold off.

like you can’t tell me he wouldn’t turn this day into a mini rom com, just for you.

CHENLE

if anyone knows how to treat their valentine right, it’s chenle. like he knows exactly where he wants to take you and it’s some cute hole in the wall place with the best food you’ve ever tasted.

“here, babe, try this!” and he’d feed you a piece of one of the seven hundred dishes he’d ordered.

he would be so happy to treat his baby well and seeing them eat everything they wanted. i really think his love language is gifts or acts of service. he likes doing things for you that make your life better.

if you got him anything his whole heart would absolutely melt. like he just never expects anything in return, which kills you.

“y/n, stop, you didn’t have to,” but he has the biggest puppy eyes. you can tell your present really meant a lot to him. and he’d definitely take it with him everywhere.

JISUNG

“ahhh, y/n, why would you get so drunk?” jisung complained, lifting you up carefully so you wouldn’t trip on your way over your door step.

you and your best friends decided to spend valentine’s day together, since none of you had dates. (little did you know that one very tall friend of yours has been crushing on you for months).

jisung was a little tipsy himself, but not so drunk that he couldn’t help you get home. haechan kept making fun of you guys, telling you to, “have fun kids!” when you got in your uber. jisung would have flipped him off, but he was too busy making sure you didn’t break an ankle in your shoes.

“am sad, sungie,” you slurred, letting your head fall against jisung’s shoulder. “why can’t you just like me back?”

jisung froze. you were so drunk, you probably didn’t even know what you were saying, right?

“shh, don’t be sad, y/n,” jisung said, patting your head as an attempt to be comforting. “let’s just get you into bed, okay?”

“i mean it!” you shouted way too loud. “i’m in love with you, park jisung!”

“oh my god,” jisung laughed, quickly covering your mouth with his hand. “y/n, shhh.”

“say it back,” you pout, clumsily knocking his hand away from your face.

“i love you too! now will you shh?”

#nct #nct dream #nct x reader #nct fluff #nct reactions #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct headcanons #nct blurbs #mark lee #huang renjun #lee jeno #lee donghyuck #haechan #na jaemin #zhong chenle #park jisung

[yourtamaki]

the wanderer’s lodestone

dabi x f!reader

word count: 3.6k

warnings: violence, detail of injury, murder, morally grey reader, dry humping, mutual masturbation, oral (m receiving), angst ending

if there was one thing dabi has learned over the years, it was that people always fell in one of two categories. there were those who would meet his gaze and those who avoided it. he’s not sure which is worse. the brave ones and their wide eyes, always staring at his marred skin with such sick fascination it made his palms itch in the worst way. or the spineless bastards whose eyes stayed glued to the ground when he walked past only to gawk at him like a sideshow freak when they thought he wasn’t looking.

two sides of the same judgemental coin, all part of the same corrupt society that preaches love until someone doesn’t fit their mold. it was getting harder to differentiate between them and at some point he stopped trying all together. what did it matter if he couldn’t remember how it felt to be regarded like a human being? he didn’t need to be human to carry out his vengeance, he only needed to be alive. 

that changed when he met you. 

it wasn’t his cleanest break-in but he couldn’t care less, too busy focused on not passing out from blood loss. it was shit luck that the alley he had chosen to rest in was part of a new hero’s patrol route. the kid was clearly scared out of his mind when he realized dabi wasn’t just another thug on the streets, his pale face illuminated in the night by blue flame. it was a shame, for a rookie the kid had talent with his dagger quirk, being able to throw and call them back at will, even change their trajectory midair. he could’ve made it far in the ranks. 

dabi wondered if they’d bury him with his daggers, scorched bones and all. 

it wasn’t his problem anymore. all he cared about was finding something clean to wrap the nasty cut on his abdomen. there was no special reason he chose your bedroom window to climb through. it was the first apartment with a fire escape he stumbled upon just far enough away from the ashes of the pro hero that he wouldn’t have to worry about being followed. your dim window was the first he reached and it didn’t take much effort to jam a knife between the glass and the lock to force it open. he thought the place might be empty for the night when he stepped inside and heard no signs of life. he got to work tearing the bedsheets in long strips and was nearly done when you walked in. 

there were people who met his gaze and there were people who avoided it. you were neither. 

you saw him. 

even in near darkness, your eyes found his and didn’t flinch at the monster that stared back. the room stayed silent as you seized each other up save the drops of blood that slipped past where he held his wound shut and splattered on the floor. 

“could you not rip my sheets up?” 

your voice was enough to startle him from his initial shock, twirling the knife once before going back to cutting up the fabric. “i need them more than you do. i’ll be gone in a minute, scream and i’ll kill you.” 

you scoffed but didn't reply, walking across the room and flipping the light on in a bathroom he hadn’t seen earlier. a wave of irritation washed over him as he watched you rummage through drawers. who would turn their back to someone who broke into their home? did you have no self preservation? 

you walked back, tossing several things onto the bed before making your way back deeper into the apartment. “close the window on your way out.” 

and with that you’re gone. a part of him wanted to chase you, to tie up the loose end but the memory of your eyes kept him frozen in place. the thought of those same eyes looking at him with fear made his gut twist and he didn’t understand why. he grabbed whatever you tossed at him, the few strips he’d managed to make and left the way he came. it’s not until he’s found an empty alley to rest in did he inspect the items. ace bandages, an entire bottle of hydrogen peroxide, fish wire and a sewing needle. 

your kindness tasted like pity and acid. he couldn’t convince himself to spit it out even as it burned a hole straight through his tongue. 

dabi hated you and he etched that hatred into his skin, stitch by painful stitch. hated you for reminding him that he had yet to purge the weakness from his soul. the same weakness that forced him to walk past your apartment over the next few weeks. it was stupid to stick around in the city for so long, especially after killing that hero. he told himself it was to make sure you’d upped your security since he’d tumbled into your home but it sounded the excuse rang hollow with no one to hear the lie. 

it became such a mindless part of his routine it took him a moment to realize one night that your window had been shattered open. his throat tightened almost painfully, your eyes flashed in his mind and he was flying up the fire escape a moment later. 

a lean figure was pulling open drawers when the sound of dabi stepping on broken glass made him whip around. it’s a pain, not being able to turn the man into fuel for his ever hungry flames but he didn’t think you’d appreciate him saving your house just to burn it down. 

the man’s movements were clumsy and uncoordinated, taking desperate swings that left him wide open for dabi to sneak under his defences. he’d just managed to grapple the intruder into a chokehold when the bedroom door creaked open and both men’s attention snapped to you. 

“you done yet?” you asked and dabi had to force himself to speak under the full weight of your gaze.

“were you here the whole time?” you nodded, acting far too casual for his liking. “why the fuck didn’t call the cops or something?” 

“i figured you’d show up.” you cocked your head at the incredulous look he threw you. “what, you thought i didn’t notice you coming around all the time?” 

he clicked his teeth in annoyance. “well, what do you want to do with him then, sweetheart?” 

it was a test and it was clear you knew it, glancing down at the intruder that had started weakly clawing at his arm. dabi would kill the man regardless of what you said but your answer would speak volumes on where you stood in this society rotted by false gods. 

“i don’t care what you do, just dump the body far from here.” you didn’t blink once as you sentenced the man to death, didn’t blink as dabi shifted his hold and the echo of a snapped neck rang out in the room. you held steady and a begrudging respect rose up in him.

he heaved the man over his shoulder, being mindful to keep the head hidden from your line of sight. you’d already passed his test, there was no need for you to see it any longer then he’d already made you. he just had to know if you were putting on a front or not. if you were, it would’ve been all the more likely for you to put in a tip about a certain villain that lurked around your neighbourhood. 

but instead you had held his gaze, didn’t look at him any differently and dabi didn’t want to know why he felt so relieved for it. 

he honoured your request, carrying the body through back alleys and shadows to the very edge of the city. his thoughts wandered, as they always seemed to where you’re considered, wondering how soon he could see you again while he watched the flames climb high into the night sky. 

“a tarp? seriously?” he’d lasted two full nights before his feet led him back to your fire escape and the brand new thick tarp that covered the missing window. you were in bed this time, reading a book the title of which he couldn’t make out with the dim light from your bedside lamp, not even bothering to look his way as he made himself comfortable on the window sill. 

“shitty landlord is taking his sweet time replacing the glass so yeah. tarp.” 

“you should move. i hear there’s a lot of break-ins going on around here.” he didn’t like how much your huff of laughter to his poor attempt at humour felt like a reward. 

“not all of us can afford to live in the hero sectors, you know?” 

the venom in your voice when you mentioned the hero sector caught him off guard. they’re one of the more subtle forms of corruption present in all cities with a hero presence. living in the hero sectors ensures one’s total safety from any threat. from robberies to natural disasters, a hero’s priority is focused on the rich who can afford the protection. no hero will ever admit to it, though. on paper, the sectors don’t exist. and yet the heroes flock to the same handful of neighbourhoods the moment a threat occurs. another underhand tactic to keep the poor in their place and the rich comfortable. 

you’ve become that much more interesting in his eyes.

“so, you here to bleed all over my sheets again or what?” 

dabi scoffed, “no, but i was hoping you could take these stitches out and we’ll call it even for saving your ass.” he could rip them out himself but where was the fun in that?

“yeah right. who saved who first?” despite your grumbling you waved dabi over, gesturing for him to sit on the bed while you went off to grab supplies from the bathroom. 

he expected you to pull up a chair once you returned but instead you placed a hand on his chest and pushed him onto his back. it took all his concentration not to flinch when you straddled him, your hand trailing under his shirt, fingertips grazing his burnt flesh as you pulled his shirt up, bundling the material and forcing it into his mouth. 

“you might wanna bite down on that, i’m all out of painkillers.” 

there was a gentleness in how you cut the stitches from his body, how you took care to dab an alcohol soaked cotton pad over each one. it made his chest go tight, unable to recall ever being this close to someone and not walking away with new scars. 

dabi found himself lulled into a trance by the rhythm of your hands, a trance that shattered as your fingertips strayed from the path of the cut, following the rows upon rows of staples that held him together instead. he watched your face closely, waiting for the disgust and horror to swim to the surface but your eyes kept the steadiness they always seemed to have. 

“does it hurt?” you whispered. 

he wanted to tell you that it didn’t hurt, not in the way you thought it did. that the nerves beneath his burnt and darkened flesh had died long ago and he couldn’t even feel the patterns you were now tracing on his stomach. it’s the unblemished skin that hurts, that always hurts. the parts of him that still cling to life. 

the human brain processes pain differently than any other stimulation it feels. pain never dulls, never vanishes no matter how long it lasts. every waking moment, his own mind tortures him with fresh waves of pain and never lets him forget the countless staples that pierce his flesh and tear him open everytime he moves. 

there’s so much he could tell you but the words refused to come out, burning up in his throat and leaving him choking on the ash. 

you didn’t push when no answer came, prying his shirt from his clenched teeth and pulling it back into place. “you’re good to go, stranger.” 

his hands that had been clenched by his sides twitched when you started to move away from him and judging by the tilt of your head, it didn’t escape your notice. you settled back over him and this time he couldn’t stop his hands from gripping onto your waist, trying to stop you from shifting.

“stop that.” he said through gritted teeth.

you gave another roll of your hips and smirked when his fingers dug deeper into your sides, “stop what?”

“you’re a fucking menace, you know that?”

“yeah. but you like it.”

he hated that you were right. but he’d be damned if he gave you the satisfaction of seeing him lose it from a little grinding. he used his hold on you to push you back slightly, spreading his legs even further until you were straddling his thigh instead. syrupy smugness filled his veins seeing you flustered for the first time since he’s met you.

“go on, don’t get shy on me now.” you were quick to shake off any reservations, growling at his teasing tone and grinding down on his thigh with a desperation that sent a thrill down his spine. “just like that, make yourself feel good.”

he couldn’t wrap his head around how right this felt. there should have been a moment of hesitation from either of you as you walked hand in hand over a line you’d have no way of crossing back over but instead you melted into each other, all his senses heightened and flooded with you, you, you. 

he was so focused on memorizing every minute expression that crossed your face he didn’t realize you were asking for help until you moved his hands from your waist to your ass. he was more than happy to take over, setting a brutal pace that had you crying out, bunching his shirt up in your fists to try to stay grounded.

“c’mon baby, let go.”

you cum with a strangled cry and he can feel every pulse and clench of your cunt through the layers that separated you. your whole body shook in his arms as he helped you ride out your high before you collapsed on top of him, your head buried in the crook of his neck. he let your hands wander up and down his sides but grabbed hold of your wrists when they started to make their way between his legs.

he was about to tell you to forget about it, to not worry about the ache that sat heavy and hard in his jeans but the pout on your face when you looked up made him freeze. 

“can i?” you asked, so close your warm breath fanned his face.

“you don’t- i didn’t…” he didn’t want you to think that this is all he’d wanted from you, that this wasn’t why he was compelled to return to you over and over. you seemed to understand his silent struggle, gracing him with a small smile. 

“i know. i want to.” any hesitation vanished at the challenging look you gave him while you freed his cock from its restraints. you held your palm out to him and dabi spat into it, never breaking eye contact as you do the same and wrapped your hand around him, coating his length in the mixture of you. you took as much care touching him as you did cutting his stitches, careful and sure with each stroke, sweeping a thumb over his sensitive tip to gather the precum that leaked like a faucet. 

as you worked his cock, he grabbed your leg that had fallen between his and pulled it up until your thighs were spread over his own. he couldn’t help the low groan that escaped him when he slid a hand into pants and past your panties and felt just how wet you were, sinking two fingers inside you just to hear you whine from the stretch. 

it wasn’t the best angle but dabi made it work, crooking his fingers and letting his rough palm slap against your clit with each thrust. when your eyes started to roll back into your head, he used his free hand to grab the back of your neck, pressing your forehead to his and making sure your vision was filled with nothing but him. 

“keep your eyes on me, don’t fucking close ‘em.” your mouth fell open as you nod, somehow keeping your pace steady even as he felt your walls fluttered around him. “show me that pretty face you make when you cum, sweetheart, i wanna see it again.” 

“‘m cumming ‘m cumming oh fuck- ! ” you gasped as your orgasm hit you. he moaned right alongside you as you squeezed just underneath his blunt tip in a sudden death grip, the pain-laced pleasure was almost enough to push him over the edge. 

you dropped to your knees quickly as you felt his cock twitch in your hand, popping the head into your mouth and rolling his heavy balls in your hand. the sudden sensation of your wet, hot tongue pressing at his slit had him shooting rope after rope of cum down your throat and his head spun when you swallowed every drop and showed him your empty mouth. 

dabi pounced, tackling you to the ground, cradling your head before it could hit the floor and crashing his lips onto yours so hard he already knew he’d have to give a gruff apology when they ended up bruised. he chased the bitter taste of himself that lingered on your tongue and shivered when your tongue ran across his scarred bottom lip and you didn’t recoil at what you felt. frantic, rough kisses melted away into a lazy make out that banished all but one thought from his mind. 

he could get used to this. he wanted to get used to this. 

“hey,” your voice pulled him back down to earth, something soft glimmering behind your eyes and dabi didn’t want to look away until he figured out what it was. “i wanna show you something.”

you wiggled out from beneath him, making your way to the window and pushing the heavy tarp out of the way before stepping onto the fire escape. 

following you up the winding stairs felt natural, like he was born to witness the small smile you threw over your shoulder to make sure he was keeping up. 

the view at the top was underwhelming. too many buildings pressed too close together, all the exact same height as the one you two stood on stretching as far as the eye could see to create the most painfully ordinary view he’d ever seen. but it was quiet. the roar of the streets below couldn’t be heard at all and dabi hadn’t realized how loud it all was until deafening silence took its place. and it was cold. cold enough that he couldn’t tell if the ache in his lungs was from the freezing air or the hazy memory of white hair that floated through his mind.

it was the closest thing to peace he could remember feeling in years. 

“you like it?” you were watching him closely, hopping from foot to foot and he didn’t know what possessed you to come out wearing only your flimsy sleepwear. you seemed proud of the little hidden treasure you found and something stirred in his chest thinking about how you chose to share it with him. 

“‘s nice.” he said, reaching out to cover both your hands in his and using just enough of his ever burning flame to warm you both. he found himself waiting once more for the sudden twist of revulsion in your features, for you to jerk away from his touch but you sighed in contentment as heat seeped back into your fingertips. you brought his hands up to your face, making him cup your cold cheeks and closing your eyes to savour the warmth. 

it was as you nuzzled into his palm that dabi realized exactly how dangerous you were to each other. undeserved kindness and crooked smiles and sharing secrets. he hadn’t earned any of these things and yet you handed them to him like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

and he’ll take them. because that was the nature of the fire he had been cursed with. it takes and takes and takes and you’ll be left with nothing to show for it but the grey ash of your generous heart. and in return you’d lull him with the false belief that he is more than the hatred that flows through his veins, that there was still a person buried under the mountain of rage he carried inside him. he doesn’t think he could survive without it but you would make him believe that he could. 

he’d destroy you. you’d ruin him. 

this, whatever this was that was growing between you was doomed to end before it had even started. he should leave you on this rooftop, leave the whole damn city and forget whatever you had tried to awaken in him. but dabi could never resist the call of destruction, would always want to know exactly how hot and how bright things could burn. what did love look like when it’s been bathed in flames? 

dabi pulled you closer, determined to find out.

dedicated to: @saintdabi​

#dabi x reader #dabi smut #dabi imagine #bnha x reader #bnha smut #mha x reader #mha smut #bnha imagine #mha imagine

[willowbleedsonpaper]

Winter In The Shade XIII

Part XIII

Sirius Black x Ravenclaw Reader

W.C. : 2622

Requested by @pogueslandia : It is Sirius’ fifth year at Hogwarts, the same year he ran away from home and to the Potter’s. Soon, he discovers the unfamiliar sight of his brother Regulus smiling and looking truly happy, next to him a Ravenclaw girl who immediately captures his interest. What will happen when the Black family gets involved in their sons lives and the ones they hold close to their hearts?

Warnings: None (Let me know if there's any, though)

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Masterlist | Series Masterlist

“Sending someone to wake me up it’s not what a best friend would do, Black.” you muttered, running your hands through your hair as you brushed it away from your face with your fingers.

“Is your roommate still alive?” he asked with a knowing smile, standing straight from his previous position leaning on the wall outside your common room.

That day you hadn’t woken up with the soft sunlight over your face, your skin warm to the touch as you stretched the sleep out of your body, you didn’t wake up to the distant chatter of the rest of the Ravenclaws at the common room or to the smell of your roommates perfumes after they had showered. No. You woke up to the harsh grasp of Anne, one of your roommates, shaking you awake like some natural event was happening and you all had to run out of the castle. Did natural disasters even dare to touch Hogwarts? You didn’t have the time to ask, the urgence in her voice when she told you some Slytherin boy was looking for you outside enough to make your own worry wash away with a groan, turning your back and diving deeper in your bed.

“He said it was important.”

“I’m sure.” you mumbled, your face buried in your pillow as you lifted your head, muttering under your breath as you got out of bed like a grumpy child.

“She’s breathing.” you assured him, a glare permanent in your face as you started to walk beside him “To what do I owe the pleasure of rising this early in the morning?” you asked bitterly.

“You’re the worst.” he said with a hint of humor, making you turn to him in both shock and a deeper glare.

“Excuse you?” you said.

“I play Quidditch, today is the game.” he reminded you, the vague memory of those words being told to you before coming back to you “You asked me to come and look for you just before it began.”

“You’re playing this early?” you asked, looking outside the windows in the corridor to see the sun was barely out in the sky “You’re not playing, Reg. That’s called torture, someone like you should know that.” you said, nudging his side with your arm.

He stayed silent, turning to you before he quickly glanced away. “What do you mean?” he asked.

You looked at him, taking his change of humor in before you answered “You and your habit of making me wake up early.” you explained, but there was no humor behind your words anymore. “Are you sure you feel alright?”

He took a deep breath, one you barely noticed before he nodded firmly. “Of course.” he answered “You’re right, it’s too early. I’m not fully awake yet.” he said, patting his cheeks gently with the pads of his fingers, making you shake your head and laugh. “I thought we could have breakfast together, before the game.”

“I-” you said, linking your arm with his “would absolutely love that.”

Regulus led the both of you to the mostly empty Great Hall, breakfast being served to the few early birds like Regulus that chose to raise with the sun. You would never understand but you had, literally , asked for it.

You seated on your usual spot, your eyelids still a little heavy while you saw Regulus moved gracefully.

“Your tea.” he said, handing you a cup with careful movements.

“How thoughtful.” you answered, taking the cup from his hands as you took a slow sip “But I think if you want me to survive this day I might need something a little stronger.”

He rolled his eyes and said nothing, as he switched his cup with yours with a swift movement across the table.

You looked down in shock at your new cup, the dark liquid reflecting your image and showing exactly how you felt “Since when do you drink coffee?” you asked in a whispered scream.

He glanced at you with little expression on his face “I took a liking to it during the winter break.” he explained.

“Winter break?” you questioned “Did your mother take a liking to it too or what? You’ve never even looked in its direction, not even when I tried to force it on you.” you said, spitting the words. Your arms laid crossed over your chest, your glare set on your face as you saw him shrug.

“It’s because you tried to force it on me that I didn’t try it.” he said back, both of you entering in a small fight over his new liking to the warm beverage, your body language becoming more prominent as you both started to lean on the table, hands pointing everywhere while trying to keep your voices hushed.

“They look like an old couple.” James said from the other end of the Great Hall, taking a bite of his breakfast as he glanced at the silence of Sirius.

“Stop.” Remus warned him, snapping his fingers in front of Sirius “They’ll feel you staring and it’ll be worse for her.”

“Maybe he should feel my stare.” Sirius snapped, lowering his gaze and taking his emotions out on his own breakfast, a fork his weapon of choice.

You hadn't even seen Sirius when you got to the Great Hall but he had heard your laugh the moment you turned right on the door, holding onto his brother’s arm like nothing had happened. Did you forget all that he said? Were you that great of an actress? The smile that inevitably appeared on his face at any sign of you was completely washed away when you two sat down and started talking like you always had.

He wanted that.

“You should talk to her.” Remus offered but James cut him short.

“I don’t get what the big issue is! So your brother is her best friend, why should that stop you from dating her?”

“You forgot the part where Regulus is a Slytherin with the mind and ideas of Sirius’ parents that hates him for being him.” Remus said, all three pairs of eyes on him with an unnatural silence “Don’t look at me like that, you know I’m right.”

“Didn’t have to be so harsh about it.” Peter murmured in his side while Sirius just stared blankly with hopelessness in his eyes.

“Point is,” James added, slinging his arm over Sirius’ shoulders and giving Remus a glare “He already hates you, why not give him one more reason?”

Sirius groaned, moving out of James' hold “Because she doesn’t want him to hate her.”

“She might have to pick.” James added, a bright smile on his lips. “And we all know who would win, right?” he asked, looking for Remus and Peter’s support but only finding his subtle shaking of heads, making all confidence in James fade.

“Yeah, Prongs.” Sirius said, pointing his hand in your direction as he let it fall with a thud on the table, the act of defeatment “The one in the old couple wins. Look at them! Everyone already thinks that they are secretly dating. I stand no chance.”

The three Marauders stared at their friend in disbelief. A side of Sirius Black they never expected to see coming to shine from the dark, making its way into the world for everyone to see it. Sirius Black, the boy who had all the ladies running after him, the one who had no trouble using his skills to have everyone down on their knees and that knew he was worth it of it all and more, that same Sirius Black that now hid his head in between his arms for a Ravenclaw girl who had the heart and wit to befriend his brother and become the shadow of one another.

Sirius Black cared for the girl enough to put his own desires aside and let her be happy, to keep his friendship. The only person she had left in the school. That wasn’t true anymore, but he knew it was the truth for his brother. A brother that deep down he still cared about, he knew that the girl sitting in front of him was his entire world and he didn’t have the heart to hurt two people he cared about for his own happiness. As selfish as Sirius Black was, this time he didn’t want to be. He just hoped he had the strength to keep that promise to himself.

*******

The air up on the bleachers was cold against your cheeks. The day had gotten a little cloudy and you could smell in the air a storm coming in the school direction. You just hoped it wouldn’t start as you watched the game. Moving through all of your housemates you found a seat in the front, a seat for someone who went there all by themselves, someone like you. You went for the sole purpose of watching Regulus play, something you two didn’t share in liking but he was still passionate about, you loved seeing the smile on his face while he flew on his broom.

The students divided themselves without even realizing it, covering the deep blue colors of the Ravenclaw house you could find the team they supported for the day. Dark red banners flew in the air while others jumped with green pieces of clothing. Of course, you didn’t stay behind. Covering the blue of your robes there was a green scarf around your neck. Regulus had wrapped it around your neck just before you went your separate ways, you wished him luck and watched him go to the changing rooms.

But now you didn’t feel sure about it. Wishing you could divide your body and paint one side with the colors of Gryffindor while the other flashed the usual greens.

It wasn’t every day that the two houses played against one another, the natural rivalry making the game all the more interesting for those who enjoyed the competition. They might not be the best teams or the greatest players, but they were the houses of Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin. The tension in the air was stronger than the one of the upcoming storm.

Your attention was captured from inside your head the moment the wind swept your hair out of your face, green and silver flying in the air as each player took their position. They waved proudly, the cheers loud and full of excitement.

Then the Gryffindor team make their appearance. The crowd burst with energy as the team flew around, waving to all the people in the bleachers. It wasn’t unknown how popular they were. Marlene Mckinnon was in their team, one of the prettiest girls in the school, a true Gryffindor and quidditch player. Then you could count on the charisma of James Potter, captain and star. And then there was Sirius, you were certain most people who usually didn’t show up to quidditch games were there only for Sirius.

But then inevitable happened. Sirius flew just above from where you stood, looking down at you with a smile. He moved through the air in a subtle way, glancing in different directions but inevitably ending on you. He flashed you his brightest smile, pointing to his neck as he shook his head.

You looked down, seeing the Slytherin scarf around your neck and feeling a blush come up to your cheeks.

His smile returned to his face, winking in your direction before he dissapeared in the distance. The game began minutes after.

Of course he would make a big entrance in your life after being missing for days. Only he would do that.

Your bubble burst when the cheers to your right began increasing in volume, seeing Gryffindor had scored. You restrained yourself to slow claps, James bumping fists with Marlene as they went back to their positions. The game was getting more interesting by the minute.

The last few minutes had you on the edge of your seat. The scores were even, the Slytherins played sharper and the Gryffindors rougher. Regulus had been after the snitch with no luck, almost fighting the Gryffindor seeker every time each of them caught a glimpse of it. Your eyes were focused on the black haired boy, his eyes snapping to all directions at the slightest sound and then he was gone. You tried to follow him but he was too fast, your neck too sore from trying to keep up, finally losing him in the crowd of players. Still you found your new focus.

Sirius flew through the middle of the field, following close to James as he kept the Slytherin team away from him, the Quaffle secured under his arm. They worked in sync, James flying higher and faster. He wasted no time once he got his shot, throwing the Quaffle with a swift swing of his arm.

Just then the game ended but the cheers grew as every single person joined in. All the players looked down, you following as your eyes widened in surprise. You shot up in your place, throwing your hands in the air. Regulus held the snitch in his hand.

Confusion filled the place as everyone wondered who had won. The game ended with Gryffindor having more points but Regulus caught the golden snitch.

You lowered your arms, looking at Regulus as he met your gaze. He shrugged, going to the ground where all the players were shouting their arguments to the teachers.

A couple of minutes in silence followed as everyone observed the crowd down in the pitch, the frustration clear in their faces. They were throwing their hands in the air, pointing at each other and shouting, the echo of their voices reaching the high part of the bleachers.

“Gryffindor wins!” yelled the student that had been commenting on the entire game. The crowd burst into loud cheers once more, some running down to the pitch while others hugged right there. The energy was too heavy and you couldn’t help but join in, letting out a shout as you jumped in your place.

You ran down to the ground, body clashing against many students going in the opposite direction. And then you met his eyes, far away in the distance, Sirius stood tall over many of the students that were congratulating the team but his gaze remained on you, a smile mirrored in both your faces as you started to walk in his direction, unknowing of Regulus watching you from the side.

He stared at your smile, one he had never seen in your face, and followed the direction of your eyes. It was a sea of people, all of them sharing the smile on your lips but not one sharing the feeling.

Just before you got away from him he reached for you, tapping your shoulder as he followed your step.

“Reg!” you gasped, turning to the side before you pointed at him. “I-I could’ve sworn I saw you over there.” you said, pointing in the direction you were headed.

“I’m right here.” he told you “You look far too happy for someone whose best friend just lost a game because of bad timing.”

You laughed, smiling smugly at him “And I’m the bad loser.”

“It was bad timing and you know it.” he said, about to add something else when he closed the gap from his mouth, seeing your eyes lost in the distance, glancing between him and whatever had captured your attention.

You shook your head and turned fully to him, taking his arm and dragging him with you “If only you were faster.” you mocked, returning to the conversation like nothing had happened.

“If only.” he whispered, letting himself follow your step as he took one last glance over his shoulder.

Gryffindor.

TAGS

Skittles

@iwritesiriusly / @trinimalfoyyy / @megaprincesscakes / @lunalovegoodsgirlfriend / @pogueslandia / @zaidlyn / @aconfusedslytherin / @animprxperworld / @aconfusedslytherin / @the-lonely-poet-loves-to-weep / @mirclealignr / @angelsandsorcery / @badass-yn / @naisnape

Winter in the Shade

@plethoraofpuppies / @dracoissohot / @funravenclaw2002 / @lilyevanswhore / @edithsvoice / @falconxbarnes / @blackst0nes7077 / @gabitanaka47 / @padsfirewhisky / @lazzwhile / @crazy-beautiful / @blackenergy / @ninawhatfandom / @justchecking-mayheadback / @simpforslytherins / @letmeinplease22 / @auggie2000 / @sarcasm-n-insomnia /

Marauders

@destourtereaux / @ktyflwr / @nehireerdogan / @medalloway-blog / @waxsealed-letters / @j-cat / @aleksanderwh0r3 / @lostrandomfangirl

Sirius Black

@funravenclaw2002 / @blackst0nes7077 / @lilylikethefl0wer / @just-wordsandthoughts / @bhavanaa /

#winter in the shade #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x ravenclaw!reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x reader #regulus black #marauders era fanfiction

[separatist-apologist]

Hey, I saw a reply from you where a person proposed a one shot, do you still accept this kind of thing? If so, could you write a fic where Elain spends the night of the winter solstice trying to get close to Lucien to make someone else jealous, BUT when everyone goes to sleep they meet in the kitchen and when Lucien is about to kiss her he asks her what she wants and she says a distraction, so Lucien walks up to her, puts his knee/thigh between her legs, runs his nose down her neck, across her face, gets close to her ear and says he's not a distraction to anyone, bites her on the ear and leaves? ?? Please, I need to read something like this. Where he excites her and then leaves.

Say less, anon

Elain didn’t consider herself a cruel person—not really.She was just lonely and bored and missed the feeling of being wanted. She’d had that, for one shining, brief moment with Azriel before everything seemingly went to shit. She still didn’t understand what had changed his mind or why he’d rebuffed her, but some little part of her wanted to make him pay for it. Solstice wasn’t over; Feyre held a weekend of events giving Elain a chance to change Azriel’s opinion on her. She didn’t necessarily want him forever,but what was the harm in something easy? Something casual?

She’d never had a fling before. Azriel seemed like a safe choice. The problem, of course, was the man himself. Azriel hadn’t so much as lookedat her since the disaster two nights before though she’d offered him a polite smile she didn’t think he’d seen. All forgiven, she was trying to convey. This doesn’t have to mean anything.

She sighed softly, frustrated as Azriel kept his distance at the far end of the room, his handsome face focused firmly on Mor, who was laughing with Cassian, the three of them the picture of holiday cheer. She considered just leaving, giving up and calling it a night when Feyre and Lucien strolled in, arm and arm, pink cheeked and grinning like naughty children. Elain wondered what the pair had been up to, her heart quickening at the sight of Lucien’s mirth.

Feyre made a beeline for Rhys and Lucien walked across the room, his smile slipping when he realized she was sitting on the couch he was moving towards. That hurt her feelings, though she’d never admit it. Behind Lucien, Azriel glanced over, his jaw tightening at the sight of the two of them.

Oh. Elain scooted over just a little, patting the cushion beside her. Lucien frowned for a moment and then, with long legs, closed the distance between them and dropped beside her.

“Fun night?” He asked, his voice deep and rich. She suppressed a shiver.

“Yeah,” she agreed breathlessly, catching Azriel watching again. She’d never considered she might make him jealous. Elain wished she knew what to do that might egg Azriel on without giving Lucien the wrong impression. The last thing she needed was for him to kidnap her to Spring or wherever it was he was staying these days.

She could touch him, surely? Elain put her hand on Lucien’s knee, surprised by the radiating warmth she felt. She glanced again at Azriel, who was openly staring now, his hazel eyes angry. Good, she thought with a soft smile. She turned to Lucien, terrified when she found the smoldering flame that was his one good eye looking back at her. Oh Gods, she thought, her mind emptying out. Had he always been so handsome?

“Are you having a nice night?” She asked, swallowing hard. Lucien glanced down at her hand, still resting softly on his leg, his eyes dragging back to her face with excruciating slowness.

“It’s certainly looking up,” he agreed. Lucien glanced over her shoulder, perhaps looking to Feyre for guidance or permission. She didn’t care, couldn’t take her eyes off him. He raised one large hand, his skin golden despite how little sunlight existed in the winter, and brushed a curl from her cheek. She closed her eyes the moment their skin made contact, sucking air in softly. When she opened them, Lucien was just a hair closer. She could have tasted him if she wanted to, and Elain was surprised to find she did. She scooted closer still, until her thigh, hidden beneath her plum gown, was pressed against his own. Her fingertips grazed up his legs, stopping halfway between his knee and groin. She wasn’t bold enough to go further.

Lucien licked his lips, threading his fingers through her hair and pulling her face towards his. Yes, she thought breathlessly, forgetting where they were or who might be watching. She could hear nothing but silence, punctuated by his breath and his heart, beating a steady rhythm. His breath tickled the side of her neck.

“It looks like everyone left us,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her skin. Her eyes fluttered open and Lucien, still gripping her head, let her turn just enough to look at the now empty lounge. She turned back to him.

“I didn’t notice,” she admitted. He smiled, sending a bolt of white hot lightning shooting through her chest, straight to her core. He dipped his head and Elain closed her eyes again, waiting for the touch of his mouth against her own.

“What is it that you want, Elain?” He asked her roughly, lips inches from hers. She wanted to scream. Arousal pooled between her legs, proof of her want. She’d all but forgotten why she’d started touching him in the first place. She didn’t know what she wanted, though, in part because he’d stolen all her rationality.

“A distraction,” she replied, hating herself the minute the words came out of her mouth. Lucien regarded her for a moment without moving closer or further away. She held his gaze, flicking from his flame-colored eye to the golden one that seemed to see past her flesh and into her very soul.

Lucien leaned forward until Elain was pressed between the cushion and his body, his knee parting her legs. Her breath caught at the boldness of his action though she didn’t try and stop him at all. She could feel his muscular leg pressed against her body, providing friction precisely where she ached. She pushed closer against him with a sigh of pleasure.

Lucien leaned, running his nose up the column of her neck slowly, his leg moving in time with the way her hips had begun to roll, creating the most delicious pressure. She almost captured his lips when he grazed over her face, scenting her like an animal might.

Brushing her hair to the side, Lucien dipped his nose just behind her ear and murmured, “I’m no one’s distraction.”

Lucien’s teeth sank into her ear a moment before he withdrew his leg and hands. A second later, his body, too was gone. He didn’t look back at her as he left the room, gone to join wherever the rest of Feyre’s family had scampered off to. Elain lay panting, still burning with overwhelming and all-consuming desire and no possible way to extinguish the fire Lucien had set blazing within her.

She’d forgotten how they’d started or why she’d found herself beneath his body desperate for more of him. It didn’t matter, not anymore. Lucien wanted more than a distraction, did he?

Elain could give him exactly what he asked for.

#anon ask #elucien prompt #elucien fic #we should make a little series out of this #no hate to azzie btw #hes just out here tryna do the right thing

[peaceisadirtyword]

Move On VII (Modern!Ivar/Reader)

A/N: Hello!🥰 It’s 2am and I can't sleep, I have a terrible headache and everything hurts (I’m getting my period this week lol) so I thought I’d try to finish the chapter and post it so I’d feel a bit more productive. I had a lot of deadlines and exams these past weeks because I finished some courses and started new ones. Now I have a week of holidays but I can't relax :( I’ve been sick too, so I barely had time to focus on writing. This chapter might suck, but I’d try to fix it with the next one (which if everything goes well I’ll post this week too!). There’s only three chapters left after this one, so at least try to enjoy it!💞 Thank you for all the comments and the messages🙏🏻 I’ll try to answer to all of them!

Warnings: angst, a bit of fluff, Ivar, talk of jealousy, mentions of harassment (this part is complicated, it’s nothing very detailed, but basically mentions of someone trying to flirt, making unwanted advances and putting a woman on an uncomfortable situation, don’t read that part if it triggers you, it was difficult to write and I can imagine it can be difficult to read💕)

Words: 3553

Move On Masterlist

gif belongs to @timotay-chalamet

my boy Hvitty by @honestsycrets

For a moment, Ivar's face softened enough for you to let your guard down. He sighed and sat on your bed, running his hand through his hair. 

"You were with Freydis two days ago, right?"

You tensed up. Was it what you thought it was?

"Yes, we went to a club together... Well, not together, on the same group..."

"And..." he bit his lip "Y/N, did you see her kissing someone?" 

You sighed, sitting down next to him. You might wanted to hit him, yell at him and kick him out of your flat, but at the same time you didn't want him hurt. You didn't want him feeling what you were feeling. 

"Who told you?" 

"Hvitserk" he shrugged "It's true or not?" 

"Yes, Ivar" you said softly. Your hand touched his shoulder hesitantly, trying to give him some type of comfort without making him feel uncomfortable. Ivar wasn't one that liked physical contact with someone that wasn't his partner "I went to the bathroom because I didn't feel well" you muttered "And when I got out I saw her leaving the club with a guy, and they kissed" 

He nodded slowly. For a moment you thought he'd cry. 

"I'm sorry, I would have told you sooner but I..."

"I don't believe you" he moved abruptly to push your hand away, and turned to glare at you with his jaw clenched "I think you're making this up" 

You raised an eyebrow. The urge of slapping him came back stronger than ever. 

"What?"

"I think you're jealous" he narrowed his eyes "I think you're lying"

You gasped, shaking your head and rubbing your eyes. 

"Why would I lie to you, Ivar?" 

"Because you are in love with me" he stared at you with a serious face. He actually believed it "You want me to leave Freydis and go back to you"

You stood up, glaring at him and biting your tongue to hold yourself back from yelling a string of insults at him. 

"When have I ever lied to you?" you nearly trembled in rage. 

"I don't know, Y/N" he glared back at you "You tell me"

"Never" you spat "Never in my entire life I lied to you Ivar, and yes, I might be in love with you, I will always love you, and that's exactly why I would never even imagine to make up something like this to hurt you" the tears threatened to fall down your cheek but you refused to let them, he didn't deserve those tears "I would never hurt you in purpose, I'm not like you" 

He clenched his jaw again and looked away. 

"I'm tired of you treating me like shit, I don't deserve it" you shook your head "And I don't care how much I miss you, I'm not letting you come to my house to call me a liar, Ivar"

He rolled his eyes with an annoyed expression. You wondered why he even bothered to come and ask you if he didn't believe it. 

"I love Freydis, Y/N" 

"I know" you shrugged, your heart broke a bit more if it was even possible, but you managed to hide it. 

"And she loves me" he insisted "And she makes me feel special, and she made me realize that I am special" he shrugged "She wouldn't lie to me"

You took a deep breath, shaking your head. 

"You can believe whatever you want, I just told you what I saw"

"Fine" he rolled his eyes again "But don't go around telling everyone"

"So you don't believe me?" you asked softly. 

This time Ivar hesitated. He stared at you for a couple of seconds before frowning and looking down. 

"I don't know" he muttered "I'll talk to her" 

You nodded. He stood up with some difficulty, groaning and grabbing his leg with a grimace. You bit your lip and looked at him carefully. You didn't remember the last time his eyes were so blue, and his movements were much slower and accompanied with soft groans. But you chose not to say anything, he wasn't in the mood. 

"Ivar" you said softly when he was about to open the door. He didn't turn around, but he stood still "You said she makes you feel special... Did I ever make you feel like that?"

You didn't even know why you asked that. It was something that had been on your mind ever since he broke up with you, even if it wouldn't make a difference now, at least you'd know if he had felt something that was at least close to what you felt for him. If he had loved you, even if it was only once. Because that would mean you had been enough. 

Ivar hesitated. He stood there, with his head lowered and breathing heavily. Then he opened the door and left the room. 

When he reached the living room, he glared at Alfred again, who seemed relieved to see him leaving.

"The two of you can... Go back to whatever you were doing" he scoffed, but Alfred caught him clenching his jaw at the sight "She's good in bed, if you don't believe me ask my brother"

"I think you should leave, Ivar" he stayed still, not letting him see that he had bothered him. 

He rolled his eyes, but left the flat closing the door roughly. As soon as he had left, Alfred stood up and approached your bedroom. He knocked on the door, even if it was widely open. He heard you sniffing inside but waited patiently until you responded. 

"Yeah... Come in" 

You were sitting on the bed, drying your tears with the back of your hands. 

"Hey" he sat next to you as you took a deep breath. It was like going back to the beginning. Would it ever end? "Are you okay? What did he tell you? Want me to call someone?"

You shook your head. You weren't in the mood to see anyone else right now. 

"I'm sorry, this was a disaster again" you muttered, sniffing. 

"It's fine, it's not your fault" he caressed your arm softly "I really enjoyed dinner with you, let's ignore your ex barging into your house part" 

You giggled, rubbing your face and shaking your head. 

"We can... Eat dessert?" you shrugged "Try and fix this" 

"Sure" Alfred smiled "I think you could use a bit of chocolate"

________________________________________

For the first time in months, he didn't feel like seeing Freydis. Ivar was furious, and for the first time he couldn't really blame anyone but himself. He didn't really believed Hvitserk when he mentioned Freydis cheating, but he went to see you anyway. He wanted to hear that Hvitserk lied from you, because he trusted you.

But then you confirmed it, and he convinced himself you were just jealous and trying to break them up. But it wasn't like you. Besides, you had sex with his brother and were in the middle of a date (was it a date?) with Alfred. It seemed like you were trying to move on. 

Now he had doubts. Serious doubts. And he didn't really know how to deal with it. He never had this problem with you. Should he just ask her? Or maybe throw hints until she said something? 

Ivar yawned and rubbed his eyes. He was so tired he felt like passing out at any moment. Now he wasn't only in pain and stressed about Freydis' possible cheating, but he was also thinking about what you'd be doing with the fucking Alfred after that dinner. 

He didn't even know why he didn't answer your question. A simple 'yes' would have been enough, and maybe the two of you would feel better afterwards. Ivar missed you, and even if he was angry at you and Hvitserk for fucking, he thought he'd like to be friends with you again, when things had calmed down a bit. But after his own reaction seeing you move on with other people he wasn't sure he could do it.

"Ivar?" Freydis' sweet voice startled him. He heard the front door closing and her steps towards his bedroom. He had given her a spare key, and now he was regretting it. 

She opened the door without knocking, and her beautiful face lightened up when she saw him. 

"Hi..." He cleared his throat, his voice weak and tired. She pouted and frowned in worry, moving to kneel on the bed next to him.

"Are you feeling well? Do you need anything, my love?" she kissed his forehead softly. Ivar frowned and, for the first time during their relationship, he moved his head away. 

"I'm fine" he lied "Just tired" 

She caressed his face and he felt uncomfortable. Should he just...?

"Ivar" she muttered "You know you can tell me everything, right?" 

His eyes found hers again. Freydis didn't stop smiling even if she obviously noticed his cold demeanor. 

"I love you" she insisted "More than anyone else, you are the most special person I've ever met, and I'd do anything for you" she whispered into his ear "You know that, you know you're the most important person for me" 

Ivar nodded slowly. She told him ever single day how much she loved him. With words, whispering into his ear and giving him sweet kisses that clouded his mind. Freydis looked at him like he was the only man in the world. She would never betray him. 

"Yeah" he relaxed into her arms "I know"

_______________________________________

"Ivar, please, talk to me" you sighed, leaving your coat on the back of the couch with a sigh "What's wrong?"

You knew what was wrong, you had seen it on his face. But you were determined to make him talk, to make him tell you what was wrong so the two of you could talk about it and work it out. 

He kept scowling, looking away and clenching his jaw, and he sat on the couch and threw his crutch on the floor without looking at you. 

After nearly a month too busy to spend time with each other, Ivar had managed to get reservations for one of the most expensive restaurants in town. One of those you couldn't even imagine to glance at the door when you walked past it. It was incredibly hard to get a table in there, but the Lothbroks had contacts, and no one on his right mind would refuse a reservation to Ivar. 

You were so excited, and treated yourself to an entire day of self-care, with a relaxing bath, facial masks and shopping for new lingerie to spend the night with him after one of the most stressing months of your life. You wore a light blue, silk dress that felt soft and comfortable around your body. Ivar's eyes flashed when he saw you, and you couldn't stop smirking for a few minutes. You felt sexy, confident and desired, and couldn't wait to get home so you could enjoy his attention in a more intimate atmosphere. 

But Ivar wasn't the only one that appreciated your outfit. The waiter at the restaurant seemed to like it too, and he made it clear since the beginning. 

You had raised an eyebrow at the first comment, but smiled softly and thanked him when he called you "beautiful lady". Ivar didn't like it, and he glared at the man until he left. Ignoring your boyfriend, the waiter kept flirting with you, no matter how Ivar cut him off and interrupted him whenever he started talking to you. 

Until he had exploded. He practically threatened the waiter with a cold, calmed voice. It had scared you, as you knew he was unpredictable and could lose his temper very easily. 

During the ride back home, he hadn't said a word. Instead, he held your hand and kept you close. Until the two of you reached his flat and you couldn't stand it anymore. 

"Ivar" you insisted, sitting next to him "Are you angry at me?"

He looked at you briefly, and shrugged. 

"No" 

That relieved you. At least he didn't blame you. As a woman, you had to deal with that kind of situations during your entire life, and most times you got blamed, saying you dressed too 'provocative' and that men had instincts. It wasn't nice, it was actually very uncomfortable and you never knew what to say. You thought that if they saw you were with your boyfriend they wouldn't say anything, but apparently they didn't respect any of you. 

"I didn't..."

"It's not your fault, Y/N" he rolled his eyes "I'm just angry" 

"Then talk to me, tell me what's wrong" 

"A guy just spent an hour and a half flirting with you on my face, Y/N" he scoffed "He stared at you and kept flirting even if I was there with you" 

"I know" you sighed "I'm sorry, I didn't engage with him, I ignored him but he kept..."

"He did it because I can't walk, Y/N"

You raised an eyebrow. 

"I'm sure that wasn't the main reason"

"Not the main reason, the main reason is obvious" he growled, rubbing his eyes "But I can assure you, if you had been there with Ubbe or Hvitserk he wouldn't have done it" 

"Ivar..."

"You know it" 

"Ivar, you know I don't care about that" you sighed "We have this conversation every single day, and we will keep having it until you realize that I love you"

Ivar stood silent. Yes, you did tell him that constantly, but he couldn't help but wonder when you'd realize he wasn't worth it. 

"Hey" you insisted. He sighed and shook his head.

"Are you okay?" He turned to look at you "Do you need me to go back there with my brothers and kick his ass?" 

You giggled, shaking your head and moving closer to him. 

"No, I'm fine" you kissed his cheek "I'm sorry that idiot ruined our night" 

Ivar hummed as you pouted, leaning your head on his shoulder.

"We still have time to fix it" his eyes fixed on the dress you were wearing. It infuriated him, but he could understand why the guy at the restaurant was so obsessed with you. 

You smiled softly. He looked more relaxed, and he finally leant against your body.

"Y/N, can you promise me something?" 

You raised your head, frowning softly at him when he sounded too serious. 

"I... Think so?"

"If you ever feel attracted to someone else, if you feel like you're falling in love with someone else..."

"Ivar..."

"No, let me finish" he shook his head "Please tell me first"

"I don't think that will happen, but I promise I'll tell you" you pressed your forehead against his "I would never cheat on you, Ivar, and believe me when I say I can't even think about looking at other people" 

He understood that feeling. Ivar saw beautiful women everyday, he wasn't blind and he looked at them, but at the end of the day you were the only one he wanted. For him, you were the most beautiful person in the world. 

Ivar leant in to kiss you softly. You smiled against his lips and your arms went around his neck to pull him closer. The night might had started as a disaster, but the two of you intended to fix that.

________________________________________

"So you still intend to go to that wedding" Hvitserk raised an eyebrow when he saw the store you were leading him to "After everything that happened" 

You shrugged, biting your lip. 

"Torvi and Ubbe called to make sure I was going, and I still feel bad for talking to her like that..."

"Don't" he rolled his eyes "You were right, she's just excited because if you dated Alfred you'd join their club"

"What club?" you chuckled "I'm not going to date Alfred, or anyone, for a while. She knows that" you shrugged.

Hvitserk finished his cigarette and looked at the store again. 

"So you brought me to find a dress" he sighed "I thought you said you had a fun plan for today" 

"And what is better than shopping for clothes, Hvitty?" You giggled "Besides, I'm sure you need a suit too! Because you're coming, right?" 

You knew Hvitserk wasn't very excited about the wedding. He didn't really get along with Ubbe anymore, and Torvi had made very clear she didn't like him. But you couldn't attend without him. Hvitserk had became your rock, your main support and the only one that seemed to understand every single thing that went through your mind. 

"I don't know..." 

"Please" you pouted "Please, Hvitty, I need you there" you tilted your head. 

"You're going with Alfred, aren't you? Why do you need me there then?" 

"I can go with you too" you smiled softly "Or you can invite Thora" you winked "But please, don't leave me alone with them" 

He sighed, low-key enjoying the fact that you needed him there. He was going to go with you anyway, but he wanted to hear you begging a bit. 

"Okay" he shrugged "But if my family gets annoying, we're leaving" 

You nodded with a wide smile on your face and jumped to hug him tightly. Hvitserk couldn't help but smile and hug you back, turning his head to kiss your temple softly. 

"Was Ivar too harsh the other day?" he asked, on a more serious tone, as soon as the hug ended. He has wanted to kill his brother when he learnt (after Alfred called him and bitterly implied that he should control Ivar better) that he had practically bursted into your flat.

Your expression changed, and your smile faded. Hvitserk felt a bit guilty, but he truly wanted to know. 

"No" you shrugged "He was... Ivar, he said I was making things up because I was jealous, and then proceeded to explain to me that he loved Freydis, and that she makes him feel special and yeah" you rolled your eyes, walking to the store.

"She just knows what he wants to hear" Hvitserk shook his head, opening the door so you could step into the store "She inflates his ego, that's all, it's not love, its manipulation"

"Maybe she does love him" you sighed, shaking your head "They seemed to be much closer than we were"

"Maybe" he shrugged "I just know my brother was in love with you, but now I barely recognize him" 

You opened your mouth to say something, but a woman approached you with a wide smile. 

"Hello! Can I help you?" 

____________________________________

"I'd pick that one" Hvitserk had put his head inside the changing room, making you jump and look at him through the mirror. 

"Do you think so? I liked the red one"

He raised an eyebrow.

"You always wear red"

You bit your lip. He was right, you always wore red. Maybe because it was Ivar's favorite color, because you liked the way he looked at you when he saw you dressed in red. How he'd smile and kiss you deeply before whispering into your ear how beautiful you looked. 

Maybe because you liked it.

"I know what you're thinking" Hvitserk shook his head entering the changing room and closing the door. He didn't seem to care about the warning the woman had given him earlier "Your eyes lighten up and you get that enamored expression and yeah, I know what you're thinking"

"I don't know what you're talking about" you smiled with an innocent expression.

Hvitserk rolled hie eyes.

"You look pretty in red, we all agree on that, but this one" he pointed at the dress you were trying "You look like a fucking goddess with this one, you could come and break my heart with this on and I'd thank you" 

You giggled, shaking your head. The silk dress was black and tight around your body, but width under your hips. It had a split that exposed your right leg, and it was truly beautiful. Hvitserk chose it, and even if you felt a bit awkward, you kind of liked it.

"Maybe I'll take this one" you muttered, caressing the soft fabric. 

"It would be rude to look better than the bride" he winked at you. 

"Shut up" you laughed "You're too sweet, Hvitty, I wish I was in love with you" 

He smiled softly at you. 

"I wish I was in love with you too, you're like my soulmate" 

"Maybe we are soulmates" you turned to look at him with a smirk "But friend soulmates" 

"I agree" he winked at you again. You were used to Hvitserk's flirty tone, and this time you wished you could feel something more than friendly love for him. Things would be much easier if you had fallen in love with him.

"Thank you, Hvitty" you pouted. You took his hands and looked at him "You're helping me so much and you're my best friend, and you didn't have to cope with me and my breakdowns" 

He shook his head with a smile and moved to hug you again. You relaxed against his body. 

"You're literally the sweetest person in the world, Y/N" he muttered "Now, I'm going to get out before that woman thinks we're fucking and calls the police"

________________________________________

Tags: @mblaqgi @alicedopey @lol-haha-joke @hallowed-heathen @naaladareia @tephi101 @captstefanbrandt @love-hate-love @titty-teetee @readsalot73 @moondustmemories @therealcalicali @blushingskywalker @awkwardfangirl02 @gruffle1 @justacripple @love-dria @heartbeats-wildly @letsrunawaytotomorrow @inforapound @sallydelys @hellogabysblog @winchesterwife27 @hecohansen31 @youbloodymadgenius @xinyourdreamsx @funmadnessandbadassvikings @eteramfools @tgrrose @lifeisabitchandsoareyou @lovessce @tootie-fruity @didiintheblog @alexhandersenx @belovedcherry @fantasydevil2002 @xceafh @astrape-the-weatherwitch @destynelseclipsa @poisonous00 @littlebear423 @justbloodlydreaming @xbellaxcarolinax @soleil-dor @geekydane-post @katarokkar11 @crackhead1-800 @momowhoo @pedrolorian @flokisdaughter @crazybunnyladysworld @anotherfan07 @heavenly1927 @jungkxxkk @satanhalsey @nanahachikyuu @cocovikings23​ 

#ivar the boneless #ivar imagine #ivar x reader #modern ivar #vikings #vikings imagine #modern vikings #move on #hvitserk imagine

[remsmoonlight]

— title : theatre square

— word count : 2.2k words

— pairing : daigo dojima x reader

— summary : nothing but a nice day spent with Daigo in theatre square .. also Daigo still hates the fact he still sucks at the ufo catcher

— warnings : nothing but a few curses here and there

               ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*   requests are open ! / requested by anon *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

An unending chatter of noise that bleeds into each other from the various conversations of people going about their daily lives as they are captivated by their conversations through their mobile phones or the shopping trip they are using as a way to catch up with their friends to those just on their lunch breaks from their jobs — all do not take in that which surrounds them as you do, your eyes jumping from person to person. While you wait, you find yourself making a story up for each of them, using the game from your childhood to entertain yourself until your date arrives.

As the minutes pass your excitement by, the bright blue of Kamurocho dulls as does your enthusiasm. Time aches by every time you bring your wrist up to check the time on your watch, not a message to say they’d be late. Nothing. A heavy rush of air takes the plunge out of your lungs and into the air, with dejection and gloom the bricks that build its body. You wonder why a person would ask you out only to leave you without even a whisper to communicate their lack of interest despite being the one whose idea it was. People are confusing.

“ What are you doing here by yourself? “

Your view is interrupted as you turn to the recognisable voice behind your shoulder, a forced grin is plastered onto your features — hope courses through your veins that it’s not blindingly obvious that you’re drenched from the stormy clouds of misery above you.

“ Daigo? “ You ask as surprise lights up your eyes as you survey the man. “ It’s been a while. “

Your friendship with him had occurred by accident. There’s not a day that passes in the town where there’s not a poor soul being harassed on the street for some odd reason or another, it’s just you’d never thought that you would be in that very position. Often, you would walk the streets of the neon metropolis making yourself as small and as insignificant as possible.. However on that day your lone bubble had been burst completely. One moment you’d been blissfully content in your own comfort zone as you dipped and weaved in the crowded streets and the next you’d found yourself surrounded by a swarm of drunks.

Had the universe sensed your predicament, the unpleasant experience lasted no longer than a wore on fleetingly as your lips whispered its silent gratitude. They’d scattered once an order to cease had been uttered by Daigo, as if they’d never been there in the first place, not even a shadow in their place. Apologies had been issued and usually you’d not even stayed long enough to accept them but his words were as remorseful as his eyes were true.

“ Yeah, I had something to deal with. “ He responds, digging his hands into his pockets.

“ It didn’t happen to involve this town being under siege, did it? “ You question him, a brow lifts up knowingly as your expression shifts.

His past had been no secret, you made no move to judge — his actions spoke louder than any riotous melody should weave the ability to. As you stared down at the scene from your apartment high above the glowing lights of the town, all you could see was a maze of smoke littering various areas you know well, especially as you’d walked their path that very morning. Terror prevented you from leaving, the unknown of what could occur should you walk that path played into your fear with an unyielding grip on your body.

“ These past few weeks have been something. “ He swallows lightly, his circumstances have certainly altered in the passing days. “ You haven’t answered my question. “

“ I was waiting for someone.. “ You shrug with a mousy chuckle, preferring to not let on how disappointed you feel. “ I don’t think that’s happening now. “

“ Who would stand you up like that? “

It would be a falsehood to say that he’d never imagined a closer relationship between the two of you the more he laid eyes upon your form. Noting mentally how you would persistently shine brighter than venus yet everyone who interacts with you would gravitate towards you as if you took on the form of Jupiter and they became an additional moon to orbit your infectious laughter. No sooner than he’d met you, he fell under the spell that many who interacted with you had — becoming one.

“ Well, we’re not all too close. I’m not bothered about it really. “ You lie, your words to anyone else would have gone amiss, but he’d picked up the soft falter in your voice.

“ Let’s go. “

Your gaze follows his retreating form, your body still glued to the spot it has occupied on the bench. Had you anything to say your mouth would be opening and closing like a fish, it’s not long until you manage to snap yourself out of the stupor he’d led you into and you’re both now standing outside the Club Sega arcade. A mist of uncertainty begins to fog slowly as the wheels turn in your mind, you’d only ever seen him settled into establishments where alcohol was served. Just what has he been through recently?

Chords of a catalog of sources flow through your hearing as your sight scans the area, electronic notes from the games move in rhythm with the joy those emit from the entertainment they gain from the amusements to the despair others make vocal as they lose a battle or have run their turns out on the UFO catcher. Fingers slip into your as you feel yourself tugged into the direction of a game with large seats, already knowing the game you know you’re terrible.

“ Why not another game? I’m horrible at this. “ You complain as you stare at the intimidating structure of the game.

“ It makes it easier to beat you then. “ He chuckles, a spark softly swaying in his eyes as he turns his attention to you.

“ You’re not being fair, Daigo. “

“ The aim is to win, you’re just going to have to try harder to beat me. “

You do as he says. It takes a colossal effort to direct your mind to organise itself in order to give yourself a fighting chance at winning, and it does work — to an extent. A thread of tame curses tumble unceremoniously from your lips as your character is knocked out once more, and the distractions from the male finding humour in your disaster beside you does not help your cause. Your eyes roll as the game ends once more, with you failing to get a win over Daigo, there’s no need to turn to face him for the smugness radiates off of him in waves.

“ See? I’m awful! “ You whine as your shoulders slump in defeat.

“ Let me make it up to you.. “ Daigo speaks with a comforting tone, no longer relishing in his victory. “ I’ll get you one of those toys from the UFO catchers. What one do you want? “

Your lips twist and turn as your teeth sink into the flesh to bite on them in contemplation as you eye up the prizes from your position, the lengthy distance doing nothing to hinder you as the sight of a pillow pups toy stands out confined to its glass prison. The golden retriever is too irresistible to the childishness within you as your eyes narrow as you reluctantly share your desire for the toy with him.

“ Make sure it’s the golden retriever one. “

“ Yeah, I got it. “

“ I hope you do. “ You comment in a steady tone, a palm leaning on the pane.

The music begins and you scrutinise the scene before you with an eager eye as the metallic claw first moves left. Determination chisels itself into his features as his brows lower in a physical representation of his focus. To win the plush toy would be the most simplest effort in the world yet it would be the first step in treating you how he should have been treated at the start. Truthfully, he’d wanted nothing to do with forging bonds that could be so easily disintegrated, however he could never build up the strength to tear himself away from you. Instead of feeling drained from the human interaction, he’d leave your encounters revitalised.

A groan leaves the both of you as the first attempt leaves all of the toys still confined to their places, the one you specifically want at the back firmly in the middle. A tough spot, you remark.

“ Fuck. “

Giggling to yourself, your teeth shine brighter than any star as they are on full display from the action as the frustration of the man is surprisingly amusing to you. Again, the claw had found itself short of where it should be, and the last chance of retrieving the toy desired so much is shown clearly on the metallic panel.

“ Let me, Daigo. “ You comment, pushing him to the side with a weak force. Rolling your shoulders dramatically, you grab the controls of the game. A breath is held as the claw makes its way left, the toy stands out temptingly from its position. I have to get this, it’s so cute! You do not listen to the prompt to let it descend from Daigo just yet, allowing it to inch its way further back ever so lightly. Your eyes are transfixed as you watch the toy is clutched in a clumsy hold, your heart speeds up at the sight of the lessening grip with each jagged movement that leaves the toy released earlier than it should.

A relieved sigh is released as it falls through the empty space at the last minute, just managing to pass through with seconds to spare.

“ I’m still shit at this. “

“ So you know how it feels now? “ You ask him with a smirk, interlocking your arm with his as you reflect on the surprisingly good time you have had with him. “ Ooh, let’s go to Café Alps, I fancy something sweet. “

The proximity between you both is small, with both hands secured firmly in his pockets Daigo enjoys the basic experience. A buzz of energy bubbles between the two of you as you converse interactively, you can’t help but notice a level of tension has been removed from his shoulders, the man next to you appearing a little more relaxed. The walk is short to the café, you can’t help but continue to stare at the bright displays of the stores as you pass by as if you’re witnessing them for the first time. Life is certainly vivid and lively in Kamurocho.

You turn your attention away from Daigo ordering to the life outside from your spot on the cushioned wall couch. It doesn’t go unnoticed that darkness has overtaken the skyline completely, even with the glistening neon lights the stars fight to make themselves seen.

“ Thank you, Daigo. “ You begin, a leading inflection heavy on your words as you sip slowly on the hot liquid. “ I have to ask though, what’s this all for? “

“ Does there have to be a reason? “ He deflects as you cock your head to the side in response.

“ You’re you. There’s always a reason to everything you do, I know you that well at least. “ You respond, before placing a piece of the chocolate parfait. A short wiggle of your shoulders at the enjoyment of the sweet treat lends some amusement to Daigo before an air of sobriety returns to his outward expression.

“ I haven’t been the best to you. “

“ Dai — “

“ Please, let me finish. “ He interrupts suddenly, eye contact unwavering as he continues to study your form. “ I had you as a friend but even then I would hold you at arms length more often than not. I’m surprised you’ve put up with me. “

“ I’m not going to say you’ve not been difficult.. But you don’t see what I do. “ You comfort, there had been days where he’d been more insufferable than a child, but you know humans are more than one dimensional creatures.

A culture of existing in a positive bubble perpetually is no way to live, for it denies you the chance to feel the emotions that slash your soul deeply. Is it easier to think it would be easier to live if you only experience happiness? Perhaps. But never does the find feel clearer after releasing the negativity that darkens your walls.

“ Huh? “

“ You’ve been through a lot, it’s not excusable to be an ass but it’s understandable. “ You shrug with little effort, shaking your head nonchalantly. “ Besides, you haven’t been as bad as you think. You’re human, you have your off days. We all do. “

“ Still, I don’t want to be an ass to you. “ He confides, moving his hand to envelope yours. There’s a surging warmth that the pair of you notice simultaneously threads between fingertips more seamlessly than when ink glides onto paper with the grace of a bird that soars through the bright blue sky.

He’d lived long enough in a world built of paper, using it as a means to escape the reality the world so harshly has built into it.

“ Then don’t. “

#Daigo Dojima x reader #Dojima Daigo x reader #Yakuza fic #Yakuza imagine #Daigo Dojima imagine

[adorethedistance]

READING MY BOYFRIEND’S FANFICTION?? - Owen Joyner x Influencer!Reader

JATP masterlist

Requested: OMGGG!! Could you do a an Owen fic based around his girlfriend being an armature youtuber/social media influencer (shes also an actress and they met on set and have been dating for a while) and it’s “reading/reacting to my boyfriend’s fanfiction” ? You can do whatever you want with the fanfic part it’s just a concept that has been running around in my head for a while. LOVE ALL YOUR WORK!!

Warnings: swearing, allusions to sex, very mild

Words: 1460

A/N: A fic?? From Ace?? Hi. I’m off spring break officially and so my stress has dissipated immensely. School was becoming so much these last two weeks and I thought I’d be stressed or worried, but I’m actually fine? It’s weird lol so I decided I could be productive with my stress-free moment and post a little fic for y’all. I love this prompt, and before any of you writers panic, I’m using my own fics for the fanfictions because I wouldn’t want to put y’all on the spot like that. Also this is my 3000 post! thought that was cool lol

“Do you wanna do the intro?”

“I think I have to do the intro.”

“Okay, go for it.”

“Alright,” Owen sighs out a heavy breath in exaggerated preparation for my (some would say lengthy) intro. “Hello, hi. Yes, okay, this is Y/n Y/l/n vlogs, welcome or welcome back to my channel!” Once Owen finishes his statement I’m so stunned I can’t generate any sort of response other than a slacked jaw semi smile.

“That was not even close. Do you know my intro?”

“I got the first part right!”

“You’ve lost intro privileges,” I turn back to the mess of lights and tripods in front of me and ignore the disaster of an intro Owen offered. “Oh, hello, hi! I am Y/n and this is: Reading My Boyfriend’s Fanfiction!”

“That’s basically what I did.”

“No, it is not! It’s ‘oh, hello, hi. I am ‘name’ and this is: ‘title of video’.”

“You don’t ‘welcome to my channel’?” Owen’s voice has dropped to a hushed volume as he genuinely inquires about the segments of my usual introduction.

“I do not.”

“Don’t use any of this,” he pleads when making direct eye contact with the camera. “Mister Sid. Editing Sid, please don’t embarrass me.” His pleas fall on deaf ears, knowing that I’ll be using the footage in full.

“Anyways. Butchered intro aside, I am Y/n and today I am here with my lovely “So Many Stars” costar and scene partner, Owen Joyner!”

“I’m also your boyfriend.”

“That too,” I give Owen’s pointed comment a soft place to land, “So, yesterday--it was actually like, two weeks ago, I don’t know why I said yesterday--a little while back, I came across a tweet telling me someone had written a fanfic about us-”

“Did you read it?”

“On Wattpad. Of course, I read it. There are only three chapters up right now and they’re all in the 2-3k range so it was a quick read.”

“2-3k?”

“Words,” I reply nonchalantly as I unlock my phone. I bookmarked a few one-shots beforehand for us to read, and I’m slightly cocky about my selections. Owen then responds with an outburst of shock.

“2-3 thousand words is a short read?” I merely give him a blank stare.

“Judging by that reaction, Owen hasn’t read any fanfics in his life.”

“Is that not long to you- That’s what she said.” Owen cuts me off with his own stupid joke and I briefly sigh before answering.

“No, that isn’t long. Baby, I’m here for that 130k slow burn enemies to lovers on AO3 with the ‘only one bed’ and ‘locked in a closet’ tropes.”

“The what?”

“Oh, we have so much to catch you up on.”

__________________________

“So I saved three fics, an angst, a fluff, and a smut. Which do you want to read?”

“Wait, what does that mean?”

“Oh my- okay. Angst is the sad shit, it’s what you read when you need your heartbroken and a good cry. Smut is pretty much in the name, it’s explicit content that will undoubtedly get this video demonetized, but that’s okay because we do have a sponsor. And fluff is the cute moments, domestic and sometimes mundane romance that makes you smile like an idiot and put the device down to screech into a pillow.” Throughout my whole explanation, I can tell Owen was becoming more and more lost, so I opt to give him a few moments to collect his thoughts.

“Let’s start with the fluff just to ease into things.”

“Smart choice. This fic I have saved is called ‘Baby Fever’ and the summary says ‘you and Owen spend a day at the zoo babysitting Baby Shada, and her presence sparks conversation about adding a new presence of your very own’.”

“That sounds so ominous.”

“Here, I’ll read the narration and reader’s POV, and then you’ll read your own dialogue.” Owen nods and leans over my right shoulder to read off of my computer screen.

“You actually start the fic.”

“‘You ready, little one?’” The instantaneous actor mode Owen slips into has me howling with laughter at which he looks at me confused. My gasping for air makes Owen laugh empathetically despite still being unsure as to what’s killing me at the moment.

“Why are you laughing?!” He yells, dramatically shaking my shoulder.

“Just the way you jumped into that, I wasn’t prepared for you to turn on the acting charm. Okay, uhhhh, ‘I bite back a laugh when I hear Owen’s voice coo from the back seat’.”

The two of us go back and forth between reading the narrative, bouts of laughter, commentary on the accuracy of Owen’s character, and we finally manage to finish the 2.5k fic in about forty minutes.

“‘When he looks up from CJ’s tiny body and recognizes the familiar ‘baby fever’ look in my eyes, he smiles and utters a simple-’.”

“‘I told you so.’”

“That was cute! I like the tie-in of having us watching over Baby Shada- or, sorry, you and ‘y/n’ watching over Baby Shada.”

“They wrote me kinda funny, I don’t think I’d ever fabricate a life to make conversation with a stranger due to baby fever.” My jaw drops slightly and before Owen can respond to my reaction, I cry,

“That is such a lie!”

“What?”

“You absolutely would do something like that, are you kidding me?!”

“No, I would not!” Owen punctuates every word with the utmost offense. He has the same look in his eye as when he was proving himself to be the cleanest phantom of the three on the Sunset Drive podcast.

“You literally told the guy at Home Depot yesterday that we were buying plants for our child’s nursery!”

“Okay, that’s different-”

“How is that different? That’s the exact same thing as fanfic you!” Owen’s furrowed brow and dropped jaw are a sight to be seen as he leans away from me, bending at the waist to stare at me with defiance. I raise my eyebrows pointedly as I await a response. Instead of actually producing a response, Owen lunges forward, grabbing my waist in his hands and squeezing gently. The feeling makes me screech and gasp of laughter from surprise and also being ticklish.

“Owen! Owe-STOP, I’m gonna drop my laptop!” I manage to say through my laughter and with one final grab, he releases me from his hold. It takes a minute for my laughter to settle but once I do, the two of us are simply breathing heavy and staring at one another with giddy smiles on our faces. In a moment’s clarity, I turn to look into the camera lens to talk directly to my editor,

“Sid, don’t use any of this. And please don’t cut to this after we finish reading to make it look like- things were happening.”

“Actually, I think you should, Sid. Just cut to right there and make the world think we-”

“OKAY, thanks for watching, bye!” I quickly stop the recording before Owen says something we’re unable to recover from. I hear him laugh gently behind me as I set my laptop down on the coffee table behind the tripod. Coming back to the couch, I move to plop down but before landing successfully on the cushion next to my phone, Owen grabs my body and moves me to sit on top of him.

“You are crazy, you know that?”

“Hmm. Crazy for you, maybe.” His cheesy line makes me scoff but smile nonetheless. I reach my right hand up to caress the side of his face as we sit cheek to cheek.

“Remind me to never film with you again.” The gesture is sweet and the sentiment is not which makes Owen laugh and he presses a soft kiss to my cheek. I lean back into him so my back is pressed flush with his chest as he lazily wraps both arms around me.

“You say that now but you’ll regret it when you wanna do a ‘boyfriend does my makeup’ challenge video.”

“Nah. I’ll just call Charlie to-” Without allowing me to finish my sentence, Owen is digging his fingertips back into the tissue of my sides and I squeal with laughter once more. This time the torment is short-lived and Owen releases me after a sweet, reconciling kiss. “Do you have baby fever now?”

“It was cute and all, but not really, no.”

“That’s too bad,” I stand up from my spot on his lap to grab my computer and hold it to my chest, “I was gonna say we could practice some baby-making.”

And with that, I turned on the balls of my feet, heading for my bedroom when I heard Owen stand up eagerly, quick to follow.

***

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13​ @kaitlyn2907​ @itz-jas​ @crybabyddl​ @kcd15​ @kinda-really-lost​ @calamitykaty​ @morganayennefertyrell@n0wornever​ @dream-a-little-bigger-x​ @mrstodorooki@vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys​ @amazinggracy​ @kaitieskidmore1​ @asdfghjkl-fanfics​ @ghostlygreenbean​ @juliefromaustralia @merceret​ @jemimah-b99​ @ifilwtmfc​ @thesweetestsinner​ @imsydneywalker​ @lovesanimals​ @thebloodthirstyvampress​ @bumbleberry-pie​ @losers-club6​ @tefilovesreading​ @dmcfarland1​@joynerxmercer @kexrtiz​ @talk-on-the-street​ @phantompogues​ @konciousdreamer​ @sunsetcurvej​ @warmnesss0ul​

#Julie and the Phantoms #Julie and the Phantoms fanfiction #Julie and the Phantoms fic #Julie and the Phantoms writing #Julie and the Phantoms imagine #Julie and the Phantoms oneshot #Julie and the Phantoms one shot #Julie and the Phantoms fluff #Julie and the Phantoms smut #Julie and the Phantoms angst #Julie and the Phantoms fanfic #Julie and the Phantoms x reader #Julie and the Phantoms x y/n #Owen Joyner #Owen Joyner fanfiction #Owen Joyner fanfic #Owen Joyner fic #Owen Joyner writing #Owen Joyner imagine #Owen Joyner oneshot #owen joyner oneshot #Owen Joyner fluff #Owen Joyner smut #Owen Joyner angst #Owen Joyner x reader #owen joyner x y/n #Owen Patrick joyner #Owen Patrick joyner fanfiction #Owen Patrick joyner fanfic #Owen Patrick joyner fic

[babybluebex]

the proposal [tom holland x reader]

➽ pairing: ceo!tom holland x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 3.9k ➽ summary:your pushy boss forces you, his assitant, to marry him in order to keep his visa status and avoid deportation.  ➽ warnings: forced marriage?? except not really?? ➽ a/n: this is loosely based off the sandra bullock movie of the same name which i recommend you watch bc it’s good classic rom com, but i just see tom being a dickhead and bodying this

I gasped as hot coffee spilled down my front, and I looked at the mail cart that had run into me. “Sorry,” the person steering the cart shrugged, and he continued on his way, totally unaware that he had just ruined my day. I gritted my teeth and looked down at my black-coffee stained shirt, knowing that my boss would be out of his morning coffee, had I not ordered a second. I always ordered a second coffee in case a disaster like this occurred. Mr. Holland could be just awful sometimes, and I only made the mistake of forgetting his coffee once. 

The door to the office opened, and I looked to see my boss striding in. Mr. Thomas Holland was one of the foremost editor-in-chiefs in the world, and he was deserving of it. While he was a great editor-in-chief, he was the meanest man I had ever met. He expected everything to be just his way and, if they weren’t, he would work to make it that way. Past assistants had been fired for less than forgetting a coffee. 

I followed him into his office for his morning briefing, and a single sculpted eyebrow lifted at the stain on my shirt. “Rough morning, Y/N?” he asked with a laugh. I kept my comments to myself and handed him his coffee, and he sat down at his desk.

“You could say that, sir,” I mumbled. “You have a meeting at eleven, and Penguin needs that manuscript by tomorrow--” 

“Who is Jake?” Mr. Holland asked suddenly. “And why does he want me to call him?”

I stopped talking and noticed my boss staring at the coffee that was at first mine, and my face went pale. Written on my cup was the name of the barista that made my coffee every morning, along with his phone number. Mr. Holland looked at me, expecting an answer, and the look in his blue eyes made me want to puke. “Oh,” I stuttered. “That is-- He’s--”

“Do I want to know?” Tom asked. 

“No, it’s better if you don’t,” I replied. “Um, also, you got a call from Immigration Services last night. They need you to come in and do some paperwork.” 

“I sent it in last week,” Tom said cooly, taking a sip of coffee. 

“Not according to them,” I said. “Umm… Can I ask a question, sir?”

“You just did,” Tom said. His dark eyes stared deep into me, and I held down my shiver. 

I sighed. “You know what I mean,” I said. “I thought you were a citizen?”

“Nope,” Tom replied, popping his lips. “I’m in America on a work visa. What time do they want me to come in?” 

“They said ‘at your earliest convenience’,” I told him. 

Tom sighed. “Let’s go get this over with,” he mumbled. “Umm… You might want a change of clothes.” 

I looked down at my stained shirt and huffed out a frustrated grunt, and Tom scoffed. “Alright, then,” he chuckled plaintively, his London accent rolling off of his tongue. I wasn’t blind, I knew that my boss was attractive— a strong jaw that was always clean shaven, brown eyes that shifted golden in the right light, and dark hair, usually styled down with just the ends showing their true curly nature. He was tall and built like a Greek god, and his wonderful accented voice would have been appealing if the words he said with it didn’t cut right through me. Some would say Mr. Thomas Holland was mean; others would say he was blunt. I would say he’s just a dick. “Don’t have to get so worked up.” 

“I—“ I began and sighed. “I don’t have a change of clothes.” 

Tom cocked his head thoughtfully. “Have you ever seen The Bodyguard?” he asked. When I didn’t respond, he said, “It’s a show on the BBC, I should have known you wouldn’t have seen it.” With that, he pulled off his jacket and draped it against his desk chair, and he loosened his tie around his neck. 

“Mr. Holland, what are you doing?” I asked quickly, jerking forward to stop him. 

He looked at me with those honey eyes as he set his tie on his desk. “I am giving you the shirt off of my back,” he said. “Like the kind soul I am.”

I nearly protested, but I knew that he had a spare; I had brought it from the dry cleaners two days ago. I searched for something to say to him as he disrobed, and the sight of his bare chest made me say “Thank you. It is very kind.” 

“Most would say uncharacteristic,” Tom said, handing his shirt. The hand clutching his shirt had a shining watch on the wrist, and, while the sight was enticing, it only served to remind me of how late we were going to be. The shirt was still warm from him having worn it, and he crossed the room to retrieve his spare from the storage closet. 

“Most would,” I agreed. I pulled my blazer off and began to undo my shirt, but I felt as if Tom was staring at me. I looked over my shoulder to him, already doing up the buttons on his shirt, and his eyes lifted to mine. 

“Do you need help, Y/N?” Tom asked, a snide bite to his words. 

I furrowed my eyebrows. “Can you…” I started. “Ya know, turn around?” 

Tom scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Americans are so prudish,” he said. “I undressed in front of you, didn’t I?” 

“Yes, but it’s different,” I said. “Just close your eyes, something, please.” 

Tom laughed lightly, and he made a show of covering his eyes with his hands. “Is that better?” 

I rolled my eyes. It would have to be good enough. I pulled my shirt off and exchanged it for his and, once I was fully dressed again, I said, “Alright. Thank you.” 

“Great,” Tom said and uncovered his eyes. “Are you ready to go now?”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Sure.”

Once we arrived at the Immigration office, Tom was brought in almost immediately, and he had me come in to take notes. A secretary’s job is never done, I guess. I stood by the door as he sat before the officer, and I watched the scene unfold before me. 

“Mr. Holland, you’re here on a work visa,” the officer began. “Which means you’re not allowed to leave the country.”

“Yes,” Tom said, and he raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And you went to an international book fair…” the officer began as he shuffled some papers around. “In Germany, last month.”

Tom scoffed and flipped his tie in annoyance. “It was for my job,” he said. “Can’t I go to work functions?” 

“Not when it violates the rules of your visa,” the officer said. “Because you violated those rules, you have to leave the country and go back to your home country for one year.”

Tom straightened in his seat suddenly and gave a laugh. “I can’t do that,” he said seriously. “I can’t work from a different country for a full year. I’d lose my job.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Holland, but it’s federal law,” the officer said. “The only way you can stay in the country is if you get married by the end of this month, and--”

I had worked for Thomas Holland for a long time. I knew him well. I knew what shampoo he used, what pants size he wore, and, most importantly, I knew what he looked like when he got an idea. His chin went up, his shoulders went back, and he smiled. He rarely smiled, at least where I was concerned. “Um, yeah, w-what if I am getting married?” Tom asked. “What-What then?”

“Well, it would have to be filed appropriately and the service would need to be witnessed,” the officer said. “But, if everything was legal, you would be allowed to stay in the country.”

Tom turned around to look at me and he gestured for me to step closer. “C’mere, darling,” he said, and his honey eyes widened at me. “Don’t be shy, c’mon.” He turned back to the officer and gave a smile to him. “She’s so shy, it’s adorable.”

I stepped closer to him, and Tom stood up and wrapped his arm around my waist. I was confused as hell about what he was doing, but it clicked when he captured my chin between his forefinger and thumb and planted a quick kiss to my mouth. Oh fuck. If he was fired, I would be out of a job too. I needed Tom to stay in the country, which meant that he had to get married. And who better to marry than somebody who already knows everything about you? Fuck. That’s me. “You two?” the immigration officer asked. “Is she not your secretary?”

“She is, yes,” Tom said, and he laughed nervously. “But it wouldn’t be the first time that someone fell for their secretary, would it?” He then gave a deep laugh, and I quickly giggled to ease the tension. “Yes, no, but… Y/N and I are getting married. We were planning on a spring wedding-- you know how girls and spring weddings are-- but we could fast-track it, if it keeps me here… With her.” 

The immigration officer raised an eyebrow. “Really?” he said. “Where is your ring?”

I looked down at my hands, certainly missing an engagement ring. “Oh, umm…” I began. “Well, you see, we don’t want our coworkers to know yet. Seeing as I’m being promoted to editor, we thought it would be inappropriate for our relationship to be… Known to the office. I have a ring, but I don’t wear it.”

“Yes, editor…” Tom began and looked at me, a flash of annoyance crossing his face for just a moment. “Sure, yeah. Yeah, of course.”

“Alright, Ms. Y/L/N,” the immigration officer began. “You do understand that, if you are caught in a lie, it’s five years in a federal prison?”

I nodded and gave a tight smile. “Good thing we’re not lying.”

I watched Tom as we left the building and, once we were outside, I stopped walking. “Wanna explain that?” I called. 

Tom stopped and turned on his heel, his phone already pressed to his ear. “What is it?” He asked. “I’m on a call.”

I huffed and pulled his phone away. “Mr. Holland has business to attend to,” I said. “He’ll call back.” I hung up and shoved the phone into my pocket, and I crossed my arms. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Tom asked, and I gestured back to the building with a huff. “Oh. It’s the only way for me to stay in the country and keep my job. We’ll get a legal marriage by the end of the month, then, when the appropriate amount of time passes, I’ll set up a quickie divorce and you can forget that this funny little thing ever happened.”

“What if I don’t want to get married?” I asked. “What about my boyfriend?”

Tom scoffed. “As if you have a boyfriend.” 

“Hey!” I cried. “You don’t know that!”

“You wake up at four in the morning, every morning, in order to get ready and get my breakfast,” Tom rattled off. “You work from eight to four every day, most times until five. You are on call at all times; your phone never rings twice before you answer it, especially if I am calling you. You bring me food at one in the morning if I need it. No boyfriend would be okay with a work schedule like that. So, Y/N, unless you have any other unfounded issues with this, I suggest we start to learn things about each other that an engaged couple would know.” 

“No.” 

“No?” Tom repeated. 

I smiled sweetly. “Ask me nicely.”

“Ask you what?” Tom asked with a grimace. 

“Ask me nicely to marry you,” I said. 

Tom gave me a look of boredom, and he rolled his eyes before he took my hand. “Will you please marry me?” He asked, his voice full of sarcasm. 

“No, no,” I said. “Down on one knee. You’re an Englishman, Mr. Holland, have some manners, for God’s sake.” 

“Y/N--” Tom began. 

“I wonder what airfare is like to London,” I began. “And moving all your stuff over there, it’ll take forever.” 

Tom sighed heavily, and he looked around us at the busy New York street corner. “Damn it, Y/N,” he mumbled, and he worked himself down to kneel on one knee. “Y/N, my love, my sun, my moon, my stars, my darling girl. Provider of late-night sushi and witty comebacks. Will you please marry me, with cherries on top?” 

I chuckled lightly. “I don’t appreciate the sarcasm, but yes,” I said. “I will marry you… Tom.” 

“Well, thank God you’re on time.” 

“I know, it’s shocking,” I chirped. “It’s almost as if I haven’t been reminding you of appointments for the past few years.”

Tom gave a shallow laugh and welcomed me into his apartment. I had been a few times-- he didn’t call me ‘provider of late-night sushi’ in his proposal for nothing-- but never long enough to take in the place. It was nice, a lot nicer than the apartment I lived in. In my apartment, I could extend my arms all the way and touch either side of my living space. 

“We have a lot of work to do,” Tom said. He wore mostly the same outfit from the day, sans the jacket and tie and the first two buttons on his shirt. It yawned open to expose his chest, dusted with thin, light hair, and, under normal circumstances, I would have liked the sight. Absolutely nothing about this was normal, though. “We have to learn enough about each other to pass the questionnaire that the immigration department is giving us.”

“Won’t be hard for me to do,” I said. “It might be difficult for you, Tom.”

“Nothing is difficult for me, Y/N,” Tom laughed. “Right, we can start right there: what’s my legal name?”

“Thomas Stanley Holland,” I replied. “Son of Dominic and Nicola.”

Tom blinked in surprise a few times, and nodded slowly. “How did you know that?” He asked.

“I had to fill out paperwork for you to make an appearance at a book signing about three years ago,” I said. “One of the forms asked for a middle name, so I asked you, and you told me that exactly.”

Tom nodded. “Umm… My birthday?”

“June 1,” I said. “You’re a Gemini, even though you think astrology is fake.”

“How do you--”

“For the past couple of years, you always sneer at the horoscope section of any magazine,” I told him. “It’s not hard to figure out what you think of it.” 

“You’re right,” Tom said slowly. He looked over to a pad of paper with his scribbled writing on it, and he picked it up and scanned the list. “I found this list online… A list of questions similar to what they’ll ask us. Alright, there’s no way you know this: my childhood nickname?”

“Which one, Dutchy or Billy?” 

“How in the fuck do you--”

“On your last birthday, you got a letter in the mail from your mom,” I began. “It was addressed to Dutchy. That was easy; Holland, Dutch, Dutchy. Kinda cute, actually.”

“And Billy?” Tom winced. “How did you find out about that?”

“One of your old uni friends works for a publishing company in Glasgow,” I said. “You sent him a letter to catch up-- but really to get him to do something for you-- and you signed it Billy.”

“Do you know why I was called that?” Tom asked. His honey eyes were unwavering as he watched me, and he seemed to deflate when I shook my head. 

“I have no idea,” I said. “If it’s anything like my college nickname, it came from a night of drinking and something unfortunate happened.” 

“What was your college nickname?” Tom asked, suddenly amused. 

“Oh, right, you don’t know everything about me,” I laughed. “Well… It was DongNose. My senior year, me and some friends decided to go to a-a… Ha, a male strip club. Things happened and… I ended up getting hit, on the nose, with… Yeah. It fractured my nose and my face bruised up really bad.” 

“Oh, shit,” Tom chuckled. The corner of his mouth twitched, and I rolled my eyes.

“It’s alright, you can laugh,” I said. “It’s a funny story.”

“No, I’m not laughing at you,” Tom said. “Just… Thinking about you in uni. Would we have been friends, do you think?”

“I doubt it,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “You would have been playing rugby or whatever Brits do at uni. I was a TA for a long time, so I hardly left my office at all.”

“Oh, that’s a question,” Tom said, looking at the list. “Where did I go to uni? Or, I guess, college, as you Yanks call it.” 

“Umm, your first semester was at the BRIT School,” I began. “You still get mail from them, asking for donations. But you transferred to Cambridge and graduated from there.”

“Well, Y/N, you’re wrong,” Tom said. “I went to Oxford, not Cambridge. My little brother goes to Cambridge. I don’t usually like to tell people that, it feels too uppity to me.” 

“You say as we sit in your New York City apartment,” I scoffed. 

“See, that’s different,” Tom began pointedly. “I didn’t grow up with much. Me and my mum and dad and brothers lived in this little town outside of London. It was a sort-of poverty area, so we only had what we could get by with. I was young when I told myself that I was going to work to get myself out of that. And…” He gestured to the apartment. “I did. And I was able to get my parents out of that as well.” 

“Oh,” I said softly. “What was the name Billy all about? You never said.”

For the first time since I knew him, I watched color rise in Tom’s cheeks. Was he embarrassed? Ashamed? “Umm…” He began. He looked to the coffee table and to the shelf underneath it, and he quickly pulled out a leather-bound scrapbook. “Mum made this for me before I moved to the States. Just some pictures of home and all. But…” He opened the book and spread it out next to us on the couch, forcing me just a few inches closer to him. There were pictures of him and his family in the gray background of London, most of them stamped with the date and time. A picture from when he was in secondary school appeared on a page, taken beautifully and professionally. A black blazer and striped tie adorned his frame, an insignia for his school on the right breast of his jacket. His hair was short and done in the spiked look that was oh-so popular with young boys several years back, and he gave the camera a closed-mouth smile, probably to hide a set of braces. 

“I was about twelve here,” Tom began. “This was around the time the nickname came around. I did dance all growing up-- Mum said I was too energetic and chucked me there to tire me out, but I ended up loving it. I ended up auditioning for Billy Elliot, and I got the part. I was on the fuckin’ West End when I was twelve, doing ballet every single day. It was great, but… I went to a Catholic school then, and the other boys in my class didn’t think it was all that cool.” Tom chuckled, but I could see the hurt in his eyes. “But then the nickname came around. People at school called me Billy, even after the show closed. I was tormented with it for years. It carried into college, and then uni. And, even though I’ve long since quit dancing, I still have people from uni that call me Billy.”

“Why did you quit?” I asked. 

“I just lost interest.” Tom mumbled with a shrug. “I was being bullied so much that I quit enjoying it. I sometimes wish I never stopped, but what’s done is done.”

The silence was tense between us, and I lightly cleared my throat to diffuse the tension. “Billy Elliot,” I said softly. “Really?”

Tom’s flush came back, but a smile came with it. “C’mon, I was twelve! And I looked like that! What d’ya want from me, Swan Lake?” 

“No, I didn’t mean it like that!” I exclaimed. “Besides, it isn’t any worse than what I did in high school.”

“What did you do?” Tom asked.

“You’re deflecting my question, Tommy,” I pointed out. 

“Answer my question, Y/N,” Tom rebutted instantly. 

“Alright, alright!” I grinned. “When I was fifteen, I played Juliet in my school’s production of Romeo and Juliet. Which would have been great, but my director was so inspired by Baz Luhrmann’s movie that he made it set in the 1950s, but had us keep the dialogue. It was… Not good.”

“Say a line, won’t you?” Tom asked. “Just a few words of Juliet.” 

I sighed, and tried in vain to recall even a single line from the play. “O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Capulet.”

“Shall I hear more?” Tom mused, looking down at his lap. “Or shall I speak at this? I take thee at thy word: call me but love, and I'll be new baptized; henceforth I never will be Romeo.”

A smile slowly filled my lips. “You know Shakespeare?” I asked. 

“My darling, I’m British,” Tom laughed. “I would have my citizenship revoked if I didn’t.”

I nearly didn’t catch how he called me that name. My darling. A slip of the tongue, a thought from Romeo’s mind? Or more? “I guess we’re more alike than we first thought, huh?” I chuckled. “Anyway, I don’t think Billy Elliot is anything to be ashamed of. It’s a beautiful story.”

Tom sighed. “I hope this works,” he mumbled. “I need this job. I’m sure you do too. We both get something out of it. Which, I was meaning to talk to you about that. Editor?”

“Tommy, if I get caught doing this, I could go to jail,” I said firmly. “I’m not going to commit a federal offense if I’m not going to get some benefits afterwards. You get me?”

Tom nodded slowly. “You are a lovely girl,” he said softly. “Any man would be thrilled to call you his.” 

“You do,” I said. “At least, for the next few months, you do.” 

Tom looked at me with those warm honey eyes. “Have you ever been kissed, Y/N?” he asked suddenly. 

“Um, yeah,” I sputtered out. “Of course.”

“Who was your first kiss?” Tom asked. 

“Who was yours?” I said quickly. 

“Zendaya Coleman, one of my best mates from college,” Tom said quickly. “Answer my question. What was his name?” 

I hesitated as I tried to come up with the name of any boy I went to high school with for me to lie about, but my hesitation was answer enough. A slow smile crept up on Tom’s pink lips, and he bit his bottom lip in amusement. “You’ve never been kissed, have you?” he chuckled. “Earlier today, when I kissed you at the office, that was your first, wasn’t it?”

“Jesus, you say that like it’s a bad thing,” I scoffed. 

“It’s not,” Tom said. “It’s just hard to believe. You are smart and witty, beautiful, with a sense of humor… I can’t imagine that boys weren’t falling over themselves to catch you.” 

“Well, nobody’s caught me yet,” I laughed softly. 

“Thank God,” Tom said with a smile. “Or our plan wouldn’t work.”

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fluff #fanfiction #fluff #peter parker #spiderman #arvin russell #the devil all the time #tom holland x reader fluff

[ateezmakemeweep]

line without a hook.

mingi x reader; lovers to strangers au

word count: 13k

angst, fluff (tw: mentions of death)

you could personally never understand one’s desire to run as far away from their hometown as they could.

maybe it’s because you’ve had the privilege of growing up in a beautiful, prosperous place, with cozy winters, amazing festivals and snowfalls on the frozen lake before spring came and melted it away.

maybe it’s because you have fond memories tied back to this picturesque place, shops and restaurants surrounding the lake in a way that almost seemed too magical to really exist.

you’ve met so many different people purely because of that sight, men and women of different cultures and backgrounds always so eager to take in your hometown’s natural beauty.

fortunately for you, the lake ran right through your yard and acted as a place of solace where you could get away from everything in the busy, touristy town.

a place you went when you were feeling happy, sad, angry or when, truthfully, you didn’t know how to feel.

it’s also where you first met your boyfriend, one of the many come and go visitors, who introduced himself as mingi.

except he had walked right through your backyard like he owned the place, a small smile on his handsome face as he took in the sight of the frozen water.

he looked at it with such wonder and fascination, like he’d never seen anything like it before in his life; and you can remember that night, even with how you’re feeling right now, that he looked at you the same way.

it’s the only thing that reminds you, at some point, you two must have really loved each other.

two years ago - december 13th

you were hunched over your desk finishing the last of your final essay, only a page left before you could throw every syllabus away and rejoice at having two months of winter break.

it was a chilly night but you couldn’t help but be outside on the porch, a big warm sweater and fuzzy socks on as you read over your work so far.

you’d gotten used to the sounds of nature, the chirping of birds, pitter patter of animal feet and even the loud, slightly terrifying barks of deer.

but the footsteps crunching on the leaves in your driveway definitely weren’t those of chipmunks or rabbits, your strained neck craning over to see a tall figure walking right past your porch and deep into your backyard.

strangely enough, whether it be the frigid temperatures getting to you or the stress of finishing this paper, you weren’t panicked; the man technically wasn’t even on your property, he was right outside of it along the grass that turned to decking.

so you continued to make revisions and edit your paper silently, your eyes fluttering up ever so often to check on the mysterious, tall figure. his shoulders were broad and his hair was messy, that much you could tell from your spot on the porch.

when five minutes past, then ten, then twenty, and he had still yet to move or realize he was in someone’s yard, you decided to investigate - because one, how long could he really stare at this frozen mass of water and two, your head was pounding from looking at this stupid document.

so without an ounce of fear or hesitation, you wrapped your sweater tighter around your body and made your way down to the man.

your slippers were loose so the last remaining bits of snow were seeping into your socks, a slight grimace on your face when the coldness touched your skin.

the sound of crunching snow caused him to turn around, his lips quirking up into a small smile when you came into view.

it was when you got closer that you saw just how attractive he was, pale skin that glowed, plump lips that were slightly chapped and messy hair that looked even better up close.

he looked different than most locals and tourists around here, many of them pastel wearing men who wouldn’t dare stick an earring in their skin.

but the man in front of you had a completely different vibe, earrings and chains and a gray t-shirt that stretched across his broad chest despite the freezing temperatures tonight.

a few minutes of silence pass, neither him nor you concerned about filling it; it seemed as if he could’ve stared at the lake just as long as you could’ve wondered why the hell he liked it so much.

“aren’t you cold?”

more silence passed and for a second you think maybe he didn’t hear your blurted out question.

but then you discover he did when he looked at you with a smirk, the snow crackling underneath him as he shifts to take in your big sweater and pink slippers.

“no.”

it’s a short and simple response but his voice is somehow incredibly warm, looking at you with a twinge of soft light in his eyes before he opens his mouth again.

“why? are you?”

a confused smile pulls at your lips as you shake your head, looking over his bare (muscular) arms conspicuously.

“no. but i’m not wearing a t-shirt in december.”

he sends a smile your way, his large body turning allowing you to fully take in just how big he is. you feel incredibly small next to him and it should probably make you nervous - a large, stranger unwelcomed in your yard and staring down at you.

but there’s a weird sense of tranquility over both of you in this moment, the moon shining off the frozen lake as his gaze meets yours.

“well that’s a good thing,” he hums, your eyebrow quirking up before he continues. “because i don’t have a jacket to give you.”

a surprised chuckle leaves your mouth that has a smile spreading across your face and he feels his own doing the same at the sight of it.

“what makes you think i’d take a jacket from a stranger?”

his eyebrow raises after a few seconds of pondering the rhetorical question, his large hand suddenly coming between your bodies.

“my name’s mingi. i’m staying a few houses over at my aunt’s for the holidays.”

your lips purse together as you wrack your brain for which neighbor it could possibly be, remembering that the woman who brought you left over lasagna for thanksgiving mentioned her nephew was coming for christmas and new years.

she didn’t mention that her nephew looked like this or that he went onto the property of anyone he pleased.

“i’m y/n,” you say, taking your smaller hand in his cold one before a teasing smiles crosses your face. “and we’re actually standing in my backyard. so thank you for trespassing so politely, mingi.”

his eyes widen as an embarrassed look crosses his face, the small hint of pink on his cheeks just as endearing as it is humorous.

“i- i’m so sorry, oh, my god,” he chuckles out, your cold hands still intertwined. “my aunt said i could take the first road i saw to get to the lake. that there was a better view down here than from her house.”

and you can see in his eyes the exact moment his next sentence came into his mind, like he thought it was gonna be the smoothest and coolest thing he’d ever said.

“and it looks like she was right.”

the loud laugh that bubbles out of you is uncontrollable, mingi’s quickly following as his cheeks turn even more pink.

“sorry, i couldn’t help myself,” he mumbles sheepishly, sounding completely unapologetic as he finally pulls his hand away from yours; you try not to think about how much colder your hand feels now, quickly sticking it in the pocket of your sweater to compensate.

“right,” you quip, a tiny giggle leaving you as you crane your neck to meet his gaze. “but really, you should probably get a jacket if you’re gonna be out here a lot. you don’t wanna get sick and it can get pretty cold here.”

“will do,” he hums, his eyes roaming yours and making your heart jump in your chest; he really is the most attractive person you’ve ever seen.

there’s a few beats of silence as he cranes his neck to look out at the lake, eyes roaming what seems like every piece of frozen ice and snowy tree surrounding it.

“my aunt actually told me people sometimes skate on it.”

“yeah,” you confirm with a nod, taking the time to look at the beauty you take for granted every day. “it’s thick enough this year. sometime we’re not allowed.”

“cool,” he says with a smile, a slight shiver running through him that makes you frown. “so... can i come back here to do that?” he asks, his eyes hopeful and soft as he looks at you. “or should i use the real path?”

your eyebrows pull together at his question, confusion covering your face but only meeting his cocky, playful one.

“are you asking if we can skate together?”

he bites down on his lip so he doesn’t smile larger, his tongue peeking out just before his teeth make contact.

“yeah,” he hums lowly, the deep tone of his voice sending butterflies through your stomach. “i guess i am.”

your lips quirk to the side as you weigh out the pros and cons.

you’re on your own a lot and definitely miss talking to someone.

he’s attractive and funny and seemingly nice enough.

you know his aunt and can easily confirm his story, the chances of him being a murderer who moseyed into town considerably low.

the only con you can think of is falling on your ass in front of him and even that it isn’t such a deal breaker.

so you smile at him and nod your head, a melodic “okay,” leaving your mouth that has him smiling back at you just as sweetly.

present day:

you knew going to this dinner with mingi was gonna end in disaster.

you were both too on edge after your fight this morning, past the point of screaming and yelling for hours that, now, you’ll exchange a few harsh words at each other before falling silent.

you’ve learned that the tense silence after a fight is worse than screaming and yelling.

at least with that, it seems as if there’s still some passion there. there’s words being exchanged and feelings coming to the surface that both people feel motivated enough to express.

but with the silence, you’re both bottling it up.

deeming it useless and letting it brew and brew and brew until one of you goes completely over the edge - and more often than not, that person is him.

the car ride over is no better, not even the radio playing to distract you both from the building tension in the air.

your friends know immediately that something is up, yunho eyeing mingi and san eyeing you; yunho, san, seonghwa, and wooyoung had been your friends since elementary school.

you’d been through a lot with them and have seen each other at all your highs and lows.

throughout your two-year relationship with mingi, him and yunho had grown especially close and it was sweet to see; you knew it was important for mingi to have another friend in a place he didn’t grow up in and you were genuinely happy they created a great friendship.

“hey guys!” wooyoung chirped happily, already chowing down on the chips and salsa in the middle of the table. “how is everyone?”

and like he’s almost oblivious to the tension in the room, mingi only mumbles a grumbled “fine,” before he starts happily babbling again. you try a little harder to put up on a happy front, giving wooyoung a small smile as you talk to him about your last semester of school.

as the dinner goes on, appetizers turning to meals and meals turning to alcohol, mingi downs sangria after sangria before he becomes a lot more chatty.

“oh, shit, there he is,” wooyoung smiles happily, a drunken flush to his face as he pokes his arm playfully. “you were scaring me for a hot second. looking all pissed off and shit.”

“that’s because i was pissed off. still am, if i’m being honest, woo,” mingi says, a conniving hint in his tone as he finishes the last of his drink.

your eyes immediately move to him and you’re quick to narrow them, hoping and praying he doesn’t start round two in this public restaurant right now; but apparently, that’s exactly what he plans on doing.

“what’s with the face, y/n?”

mingi spits your name out like it’s the last thing he wants to say, a quietly snapped “nothing,” leaving your mouth.

san and yunho look to each other immediately, concern on both their faces as they feel the tension start creeping back up.

they knew something was wrong the second you both came in, have known things have been off between you two for months, and it was even more obvious when you immediately took the seats a few spots away from each other.

“nothing?” he asks, his voice deep and gravely due to his anger and the alcohol. “because it sure looks like you wanna say something.”

“i don’t have anything to say to you.”

“you never do, do you, babe?” he asks, his humorless laugh and vindictive tone making your skin prickle.

“did you even miss me?”

your eyes meet his from across the table when he finally speaks, your eyebrow raising as you two stare at each other blankly.

he had left two nights ago after telling you he needed space, not hearing a word from him until he came barreling through the door just a few moments ago at seven a.m.

you’d just gotten up to make yourself coffee, plagued with worry and upset over your fight and his lack of communication.

“maybe if you looked at your phone, you’d know.”

because how could he think you wouldn’t miss him? how could he think you’re actually okay with him leaving after every fight? not hearing from him for a day or two while you stay in this apartment and let your mind go off into every worst case scenario.

a humorless laugh can only leave him as he shakes his head.

“of course you’re putting the blame back on me. i just can’t make you happy, can i, y/n?”

“you staying after a fight would make me happy. but of course, you can’t do that for me, can you?”

he doesn’t say anything and instead just clenches his jaw painfully tight.

you watch it tick dangerously and instead of feeling anger or sadness, you just feel utterly defeated; you don’t know how many times you guys have had this exact conversation.

a fight will happen.

he yells, you cry.

you just want him to see your tears and obvious pain and stop the yelling.

hold you and kiss your hair and mumble that you guys are gonna figure this out and get passed it.

he leaves, you stay silent.

he just wants you to fight for him a little.

call him out on his shit and prove to his insecure self that you still love and care for him, even though he’s a dick. ask him to please stay because he wants to figure this out and get passed it.

but then he comes back and you’re both okay for a bit, just for the cycle to repeat itself over and over.

“is that why you leave, mingi?” you speak again, looking at him curiously as you shake your head. 

“make me sit here and worry about you for days, while you purposely ignore me, just so i can tell you i miss you? is that what you want?”

the words are on the tip of his tongue. that yes, that’s exactly what he wants from you.

but the words are also on the tip of your tongue. that you want his first instinct to be to stay. to stay here and talk things out with you before immediately jumping up to flee.

he wants you to tell him you miss him but you want him to tell you he loves you, that he loves you enough to stay when you guys fight; but right now, neither of you are even sure if that’s true anymore.

“i don’t know about y/n, you guys,” mingi says suddenly at dinner, the drunken slur to his voice evident to everyone. “i love her but sometimes.... i think i actually fucking hate her.”

you feel your heart sink when those words leave his mouth, your face dropping just as the boys call out his name roughly.

“mingi, what the fuck,” san growls from across the table; but the boy is completely unbothered, shrugging his broad shoulders as he looks directly at you.

“how ‘bout you, babe? how do you feel about me?” he asks, leaned back against his chair like he’s completely calm, cool and collected.

“i’m not having this discussion with you right now.”

“you never want to have this discussion,” he mocks, the anger and rage in his eyes only making your blood boil even more. 

“i’m getting tired of it, y/n. i’m getting tired of all this shit.”

his voice is raising and you’re becoming increasingly embarrassed, knowing that the last place for this blowout fight is in front of your friends in a public setting.

“mingi, this really isn’t the place to-”

“shut up, yunho, we’re gonna finally-”

but you’re not intending on doing anything, already feeling humiliated and belittled as you get up from your seat and walk toward the door.

you leave your bag and jacket so the boys know you’re not leaving, hoping and praying that your drunk asshole of a boyfriend follows you outside; and sure enough, two minutes later, you smell his familiar cologne when the door opens.

neither of you say anything for the first few seconds, him leaned against the wall and you facing him with your hands on your hips.

“what’s your problem?”

it’s the first thing you think to ask, looking at him with such concern and defeat in your eyes. 

you hope he can see it but you’re sure he can’t, far too absorbed in whatever he’s been going through for the past few months to notice.

“i don’t have a problem.”

“you obviously do,” you snap, your voice raising as you take a step closer to him.

“you just embarrassed me in front of everyone and you’re acting like a fucking child. we could’ve had this conversation at the house instead of not speaking for days.”

“why? so you could just turn shit around on me or ignore what i’m saying?” he snaps back, raising an eyebrow as he looks down at you. “maybe we need an outside source to listen.”

“not our friends, mingi, and not at a public dinner when you’re getting drunk.”

“you always have an answer for everything, don’t you?” he snaps, his jaw clenching and eyes flaring as he continues to peer down at you.

“and it’s always on me. when we tried to talk this morning, you blew me off, too, y/n. it’s like you don’t ever wanna have this discussion.”

“because i don’t know what you want me to say, mingi. how many times do i have to repeat myself and tell you i don’t know what you want from me?”

“have you ever thought that maybe that’s the fucking problem, y/n? that after all of this, you still don’t know what i want from you? are you fucking stupid?”

“are you fucking stupid?” you yell back, the suppressed anger and rage you knew was brewing boiling over right here and now.

“you want me to tell you that i miss you when you leave every other week, mingi? why would i tell someone that who could give a shit? i could tell you i miss you or that i’ll miss you and you’ll still fucking leave me.”

“how do you know?” he snaps, “you’ve never tried!”

“i’ve never tried?” you yelp, tears of frustration burning your eyes as you look at him.

“what’s me texting you when you leave like a little bitch every single time? or me obviously worrying when you pull that stupid shit over and over? i’ve been trying mingi and you don’t care! you leave me crying alone every single time!”

he meets your gaze with fire in his eyes and you can only stare back with tears in yours, waiting for him to scream something before he decides to kick over the metal garbage can a few feet away from you.

you watch as it clatters against the side walk, a loud, deep “fuck!” leaving him as you watch him blankly. his chest is heaving and you can tell he doesn’t know what to do with himself right now but you also don’t know anymore.

because you’re shaking inside and out and feel like you wanna throw up, knowing that right now you both look like the worst type of couple; but it’s nothing compared to how you feel, how even though you don’t want to, you can’t stop yourself from acting out on these negative feelings.

“and if i never try, mingi, then just leave again,” you say, tears blurring your vision and a lump growing in your throat. “you can stay and come home with me tonight. or you can leave. at this point, i’m too tired to care.”

you weren’t surprised to go home alone that night.

watch as seonghwa and yunho helped your boyfriend to their car and promised that he’d be back in a few days; you were only able to sleep soundly that night because you knew he was safe with them.

but it didn’t stop you from crying yourself to sleep that night, the night after that and the night after that for the next week; the same would’ve probably happened the next night, too, at least for a little bit, had you not heard your front door open just after midnight.

you were getting in one last episode of your drama when mingi returned home, craning your neck back to see him lazily kicking off his shoes at the front door.

his head looked up to meet your gaze, the glow of the tv hitting him just enough to tell you he looked like shit.

he had dark circles under his eyes and his hair was tousled messily, like he hadn’t washed it since you last saw him. his face was sunken and pale as if he’d been away in the wild for months opposed to his friend’s house for just a little over a week.

but when he’s away from you, this is what happens each and every time - he can’t sleep or eat or function properly.

he’s only plagued with the thought of you, memories running through his mind or constantly wondering what you’re doing. if you’re safe and feeling okay or if something bad is gonna happen to you because he’s not there.

the couch dips next to you before you feel his skin graze yours, a quietly mumbled “hey,” like he just came in from work casually spoken through the air.

you crane your neck up at him to look in his sunken eyes, an uncontrollable frown on your face as you swipe your finger across his purple skin.

it’s the softest touch he’s received in a week and he’s missed it more than he cares to admit. shutting his eyes and smiling slightly when he hears you mumble “hi” back.

you bask in each other’s comfort and warmth for the rest of the episode in silence, your head resting on his shoulder and his arm wound tightly around you until the tv screen falls black.

you two walk into bed and he pulls you down with him, your head falling to his chest and his hands in your hair. you moan against him sleepily and it’s a sound he’s missed so dearly, tightening his hold on you as he feels his body immediately relax.

you’re both completely comfortable and at ease, days of worrying finally calmed as you’re beside one another again.

but even with this comfort, even with the familiar feel of each other’s skin and warmth soothing both of you, you know it won’t be enough.

because you still don’t say you missed him and he still doesn’t tell you he loves you.

a year and 11 months ago - january 10th

you weren’t sure if it was possible to fall in love in less than a month but it really felt as if you and mingi did.

from the moment you saw him two days after your initial meeting, skating together and braving the frozen lake together, your connection was immediate.

you’d spent everyday with each other, frolicking through the town in the afternoon before going back to your house at night.

you usually spent it cuddled up on the couch or making food in your kitchen, his arms wrapping around your waist before tossing you up on the counter playfully.

“you didn’t strike me as a chef,” you tell him, watching him stir a pot of noodles with a content look on his face.

“well, i didn’t strike you as a rapper either,” he says, a smirk on his face as a giggle leaves your mouth.

you learned that mingi was an aspiring rapper, him and his friend hongjoong trying to get their foot in the door for the past year. you listened to a few of their songs and even got a live performance from him, your eyes wide and cheeks flushed as you watched him.

in a fit of absolute astonishment, because you didn’t think mingi could get any more attractive, you blurted out that he didn’t seem like a rapper. that his personality was too “cute and charming” despite the deep growl to his raps and voice.

“i told you just personality wise,” you whine with a pout, reaching your hand out to squeeze his arm reassuringly. “but appearance wise, absolutely. you’re very tough. very cool looking. i’m scared of you.”

“you’re making this a lot worse for yourself, baby,” he hums lowly, another giggle leaving your mouth as you bite down on your lip.

“did your friend hear back from that producer yet?” you ask him curiously, your legs criss-crossed as you sit on the counter and peer up at him.

he looks over to see you staring at him all wide-eyed and interested, a soft, happy glint in your gaze that makes his heart pull in his chest.

he hasn’t even known you for a month but he’s never been this happy before.

he’s never had anyone be there for him the way you’ve been, dedicating their time to him and being so actively interested and supportive of his decisions; it also doesn’t help that you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever met, both inside and out, that made him extend his trip a week longer.

he couldn’t imagine saying goodbye to you yet and he’s still not sure if he can; he’s grown incredibly attached to you and it’s something he’s never felt before.

something all consuming and magical that’s making him incredibly vulnerable.

“not yet,” he mumbles, his eyes roaming your face.

your eyebrows pull together when you notice the way he’s looking at you, soft and sweet with a fondness that makes your heart flutter dangerously.

“why are you looking at me like that?”

a smile crosses his face as he lowers the heat on the stove, caging your body in and cocking his head to the side. he bites down on his lip when he sees your eyes widen, a large hand coming up to push pieces of hair out of your face.

“because i’m happy i met you.”

a small, touched smile pulls at your lips as you peer up at him, raising your own hand to smooth out the chain around his neck.

your fingers brush against his warm skin and it’s like there’s electricity coursing through both of you, your bodies close and hot breath wafting together.

“i’m happy i met you too, mingi.”

his heart soars at the way you say his name, eyes falling to your lips as he presses himself closer to you. you push yourself against the cabinets, swallowing the lump in your throat when you follow his gaze.

your tongue peeks out to lick over them unconsciously, your own eyes falling to his lips. you feel your stomach swoop dangerously, wanting so badly to feel them on yours - they’re one of the first things you noticed about him.

“y/n?”

“hm?” you hum, your eyes lingering on his mouth before hazily meeting his eyes; and there you see it, the soft intensity you’ve yet to grow used to.

you’ve seen this look from him more times than you can remember despite the short time you’ve known each other.

on the lake when you two were skating, grasping each other’s hands and giggling as you tried to keep yourselves from falling back.

in town when your hands bumped and you’d stop dead in your tracks to look at each other, completely unaware of the people around you giving each other knowing looks.

on the couch when you’d allow your head to rest on his shoulder, cuddling closer to him because the weather is really cold for january and you need body heat.

but it’s never been as strong as it now.

your heart’s never been beating this fast and you haven’t been able to feel his own pounding against his chest. probably because he was nervous to ask-

“can i kiss you?”

neither of you can remember what happened after he uttered those words.

just that one minute, he said it and the next, your mouths were connected. parting on one another’s as he completely caged your body with his.

your arms wound around his neck and he hummed contently against your mouth, slipping his tongue in when you started playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

he had half the mind to turn off the stove before carrying you to the couch, your legs wound tightly around his waist as every hint of desire and want overtook you.

he plopped himself down as you situated yourself on his lap, lips never disconnecting. you moaned against him when you felt his body underneath yours, tongues colliding and mouths pulled into smiles.

his hands gripped onto your hips gently, pulling your body closer to his as your kisses grew hungrier and more intense.

you finally pulled apart for air with heaving chests and red, puffy lips, your eyes meeting and every hint of vulnerability and longing in them.

“i’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he finally says softly, almost whispering it in fear that someone else would hear.

but this house is empty. it always is and it has been for quite some time.

until you met him and he completely changed your life.

now there were two pairs of shoes at the door and two empty cups in the sink. there was someone to talk to and someone to be in the silence with.

because you’ve learned over this past month that even a silence with someone else is way better than the silence of being alone.

“me... me too,” you admit shyly, a warm blush creeping up on your face. “i’m... really, really happy you’re here, mingi.”

his eyes widen when he sees tears well up in your eyes, his mouth pulled into a frown as he brings his hands to your face.

but you only shake your head before he can comment on it, placing your hand atop his before connecting your lips again.

he meets the kiss with the fervor you need, everything about it soft and sweet and passionate. like you guys know time is running out and you need to fit it all in.

“that producer got back to me and wants to meet in person so you’ll be home next week, yeah?” hongjoong asked mingi over the phone, the boy laid out on his bed a few days later.

he can only keep replaying the memory of you in his mind, the tone of your voice and the teary look in your eye when you told him how happy you were that he’s been here.

there was a certain type of sadness behind you that he hasn’t been able to shake, making it incredibly hard for him to pick a day to just pack up his car and go.

“i... uh. i don’t know, yet.”

“what?” hongjoong asked.

him and mingi had been waiting to meet producers for months, getting either put on a list or straight up rejected. and now when they have a chance, “you don’t know yet?”

mingi licks over his lips as he hears the disbelief in his friend’s voice, knowing that hongjoong won’t be able to believe this. they’ve been waiting for this moment ever since they were in high school and had the dream of rapping as a duo.

he was only supposed to be here for a few days and now it was almost a month. what could possibly be keeping him there? what could possibly have made mingi-

“what could you possibly not know, mingi? we’ve been waiting for this moment for years. you even extended your trip for a bullshit reason thinking i’d really buy it.”

“okay but my aunt really did need help around the house...” he mumbles because yes, she needed help around the house as she redid her bathroom but she was quick to hire professionals so, technically not a lie.

“so what, what’s your excuse this time? did you meet some chick?”

there’s a silence that stretches over the phone for what feels like hours, mingi attempting to find any words before hongjoong lets out a loud groan.

“a girl? mingi, are you fucking kidding me?”

“i really like her, hongjoong,” mingi tells his friend, a sweet genuineness and innocence in his deep tone. “i really, really like her and i... i don’t think i can leave her yet.”

he reluctantly opens up to hongjoong about you, telling him that you’re in school and live alone in this quiet little lake town. that you and him have been spending every second together and he’s never felt this way about anyone before.

“i’m happy for you, man, i really am,” hongjoong says, never having heard his friend talk like this before. “but i mean... is she worth changing your plans? what the hell is there for you?”

he wants to say that you. you’re there.

the girl he’s known for less than a month but has gotten him so tight around her finger - and once he leaves, will still be here.

except she’ll be within the walls of her house all alone again, in a town based off people coming and going where she’s never seemed to have a stable relationship with anyone.

where she now knows what it’s like to spend every day with someone and look forward to their company every morning and night. spend hours talking until the sun rises and sleep until it’s dark out.

“i wouldn’t be changing my plans that much. i still have our music, hongjoong. we can still do shit even if i live here.”

“live there?!? hongjoong blurts out, “you’ve been there for a less than a month, dude, that’s fucking crazy. you’ve barely know her and you’re gonna move there?”

“i can’t leave her.”

he didn’t think at the time that it was crazy. he didn’t think he’d ever come to regret that decision because, at the time, he really couldn’t imagine leaving you.

he couldn’t picture himself hugging you goodbye and telling you that you’d keep in touch via texting and facetime.

he couldn’t picture going back home with a genuine smile on his face when it felt as if he left behind something, someone, would could make him the happiest he’s ever felt.

he couldn’t picture that he’d ever come to resent you because when he told you he was gonna consider staying in town longer, a bit more permanently, the smile that lit up your face was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“really?” you smile, jumping up from your spot on the couch and running over to him.

you’re so smiley and happy and bouncy until you’re not, your face dropping ever so slightly when you look over his face.

“but wait... what about the producer? did he ever answer?”

“he did. hongjoong’s meeting with him tomorrow.”

your eyes widen at the news but he’s quick to cut you off, bend down and press a long, lingering kiss to your lips before scooping you up into his arms.

“but i told him there was something better for me here.”

present day:

he wasn’t sure when the resentment started.

he just knew that, one minute he loved you, and the next, he started to question everything.

it could’ve been from seeing hongjoong’s success, album after album and talk of him all over social media right in his face every day.

it could’ve been his lack of success, pursuing a music degree via online school while still keeping up with his previously established career as a rapper; it was enough to get the bills paid and keep his name lingering around but that’s all it was now.

it could’ve been that all of his passion was gone and he blamed you for that; because if it weren’t for you, he’d be with hongjoong now. he’d be making money and feeling inspired and at the peak of his creativity and motivation.

but he loves you, right? he loves you more than he’s loved anyone in the world and he made the right decision.

“sometimes i question if i made the right decision.”

it was a relativity quiet night for you and mingi, the past few days calm and uneventful, so you knew a fight was bound to happen soon.

and with that statement, it seemed as if the night was quickly headed in that direction.

“what do you mean?” you ask, looking up from your textbook.

he was sat on the love seat opposite you, computer in his lap and a beer on the side table as he watched you. he’d been wordlessly watching you all night and you hadn’t been sure what to make of it.

now, you can see, he might’ve been watching you with disdain.

“i mean i sometimes wonder if i made the right decision in staying here. just... so quickly not accepting that producer’s offer with hongjoong’s.”

his words hurt you more than you let on, your stomach sinking and knotting as you let his words sink in.

you had asked him for weeks after he made that decision if he was sure.

if something he worked so hard on and something he looked forward to for so long was something was worth giving up.

and anytime you asked, he’d say the same thing.

“you’re worth it.”

you wonder now if he said it so many times to qualm your ever present worries or to convince himself. tell himself over and over again that, yes this girl is worth staying here and no, i won’t come to resent her.

it’s something you worried about in the beginning but faded with time.

because your love grew stronger and you both became more secure. your relationship was the closest thing to perfect you’d ever experienced.

but not now.

now it’s a fucking disaster.  

“where did that even come from?”

you can hear to your own ears how shaky and unsure your voice sounds. it’s filling you with as much shame as it does embarrassment, knowing that you can’t even talk to your own boyfriend openly and honestly.

without feeling upset, like you know you have to walk on eggshells or can’t express how much he’s been hurting you.

“i don’t know, i’ve just been thinking,” he hums, taking a swig of his beer as he adjusts himself on the couch.

you don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, only humming lowly as you nod your head.

you lick over your lips as you look back down uncomfortably, blankly staring at the words of your textbook. your brain can’t absorb any of the terms or phrases on the page, the sinking, awful feeling in your stomach taking over.

you can’t even remember how long you’ve felt like this.

when butterflies turned to this gut wrenching, awful feeling.

like the feeling before a plane takes off or you have a presentation to do or when the one person you’ve loved in this world has decided they don’t want you anymore.

“i stayed for you.”

the words you feared hearing pierce the air and you hold back a shaky breath, biting the inside of your cheek so harshly you’re hit with the metallic taste blood.

you look up and see his eyes narrowed in on you, tears burning the back of yours as you beg them not to fall.

because you can’t keep crying in front of him just for him to ignore you. to just watch you lose it with a blank look in his eyes, instead of holding you or attempting to soothe you.

“i couldn’t leave you alone in your house,” he begins, like the words he’s rationalizing in his head are coming out of his mouth uncontrollably.

“i wasn’t ready to leave you yet and i didn’t even think twice about how i would feel in the future. because i was so fucking consumed by you, y/n.”

there’s an obvious and palpable pain in his voice and it makes your gut wrench even more; you hate that he’s in pain but you’re in pain, too. you were in pain before him and now you’re in pain because of him.

“i’m still consumed by you but i feel...angry now. i feel so fucking angry, y/n, and i don’t know why. i don’t know if i’m mad at you or myself but i know i stayed for you. if i never met you, i never would’ve stayed here and now i feel like i’m stuck.”

“but i never asked you to stay, mingi,” you whimper out, the tears quickly coming to the surface.

they’re a mix of sadness and frustration, because it hurts so much hearing this, the obvious regret in his words, but it also makes you mad - that was his choice and his choice alone.

and it’s like he knows that too. because he doesn’t say anything in response, just continues to stare at you with a look in his eye that breaks your heart.

“i asked you so many times if you were okay with doing that,” you begin after moments of silence, your teary, wet gaze meeting his. “i asked you again and again because i knew you’d come to regret it.”

“i’m not saying i regret it, i’m just saying i-”

“you’re saying you stayed here for me like it’s my fault,” you say, shaking your head as tears leak from your eyes and down your cheek. “like i asked you to and like meeting me was your downfall. but i never told you to and i would’ve never ever expected you to.”

“what, so i was just supposed to leave you alone?” mingi growls lowly, emotion behind his tone that’s almost masked by the brashness.

he can’t help but feel all of this coming up, all of these feelings he’s been going through these past months and making him a completely different person.

“why would i have left you when i knew i loved you?”

neither of you focused on loved being past tense, probably because it’s a fact both of you know by now.

“i didn’t want anything else but you in that moment.”

“do you want a prize, mingi?” you snap, every defensive and defeated emotion coursing through your veins.

“you could’ve left me alone. you could’ve just left the way you wished you did so fucking badly. you would’ve saved yourself all of this obvious regret.”

“you think i regret staying with you?” he asks, his voice low and deep as he rises from the chair.

his frame is tall and broad and looming as he walks closer to you, standing over your chair as you sit there and stare up at him. his eyes roam your face and he follows the few tears rolling down your cheeks, his hands stiffly hanging at his sides.

he used to hate seeing you cry.

it used to make him wanna destroy whatever was hurting you. he used to kiss your tears away and wouldn’t let you leave his arms until you were smiling and laughing again.

“well, what do you call this?” you whimper quietly, sniffling and stuffy and feeling small tears stream down your face.

“you basically said if it weren’t for me, you’d be happier with your life. and i... i was so happy when you decided to stay, mingi, i’m not gonna lie to you. i was so happy because i knew we would love each other so much,” you whimper out, the knot in your throat making it difficult to speak.

“but i also knew that one day, you would probably regret it and resent me. it’s why i asked you over and over and over again. because i was so scared this was gonna happen.”

his mouth grows dry as he licks over his lips, a burning behind his eyes as he hears your voice break. he’s quick to shake his head and blink away the tears, though, because he knows if he starts crying, he’s never gonna stop.

“i thought you would leave with me eventually,” he’s finally able to get out, his throat clogged and voice gruff as he voices his innermost thoughts and wishes.

you compromised for him once, why wouldn’t you do it again?

“i thought if you actually loved me the way you claimed to, you’d be able to go.”

“well, i was always honest with you about that too,” you murmur, feeling utterly defeated and guilty as you meet mingi’s glossy eyes. “you know i never intend on leaving.”

a year and 5 months ago - june 19th

he learned about your parents accident on the 4th year anniversary of their death.

he had noticed that week you were especially gloomy, a sad look in your eye and the fake smile on your face making him cling to you just a bit more than usual.

and apparently, you had noticed too.

“mingi, are you okay?”

the words were muffled against his shirt, your face pressed against his chest as the two of you lay on the couch. his hand had been running up and down your back gently all night, like he’d been trying to calm you without any words.

like he knew there was something wrong, even though you hadn’t said a word.

his eyebrows pull together in confusion, placing his fingers under your chin. he lifts your face as his eyes search yours, that sad look behind them masked by a soft curiosity.

you’re trying to hide your pain because you think he’s hurting and that alone only makes him even more sad.

“of course i am, baby. but are you okay?”

you can’t find it in you to say yes so you only nod shyly, a small smile gracing your face as you look at him.

his eyes are full of such warmth and love that it makes tears prick behind your eyes, dropping your gaze quickly as you bury your face back in his chest.

the movement causes him to swallow nervously, adams apple bobbing as he presses his lips to the top of your head.

he knows something’s wrong. he knows something’s very wrong but he doesn’t know what happened or what’s brought this on.

“you can tell me anything,” he mumbles against your hair, his arms wrapped tightly around your body. “you know that, right?”

because he also noticed that you started seeming off when he mentioned moving in together, looking at apartments in town for himself before getting the idea to live with you.

you guys are already together all the time, it only made sense for you two to live together as well.

but he could tell immediately the idea unsettled you, you clutching desperately on to him as you muttered that you’d think about it.

at first, he would’ve assumed you didn’t wanna go that far with him. that it was too serious a commitment and you were completely uncomfortable with that.

but it was the way you were clinging to him, burying your face in his chest like you were begging him not to leave you that made him realize something deeper was going.

it’s why he dropped it at first. looked for apartments on his own with the idea that, best case scenario, you’d move in with him too.

could that be what’s wrong right now? you dealing with moving in with him and fears coming from that? or something else entirely?

he just knows that when he starts to hear you cry quietly into his chest, he needs to know what’s been wrong because he hates seeing you like this.

“hey, hey, hey,” his deep voice mumbles, large hands pulling you from his chest and wiping at your face. “what happened, baby? what’s wrong?”

and since you started crying about this, remembering the day and the circumstances around it so well, you won’t be able to stop. you can only continue to cry into him, tiny sobs wracking your body as you clutched onto him tightly.

“i... i can’t.”

you couldn’t talk, you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t tell him, he wasn’t sure.

that’s why he shook his head and pulled you back into his chest, the warm safe place you’ve come to know so well and usually calmed you whenever you needed.

“i don’t know what’s wrong but i promise you’ll be okay,” you hear him mumble against your head, his hand running up and down your back gently. “i’ll try to help you in any way i can, baby, but i’m gonna need to know what’s wrong.”

but he can’t help you bring back your dead parents.

he can’t help you time travel the way you so desperately wish you could to tell yourself not to go on that senior trip.

that if you didn’t go, your parents never would’ve driven you to the airport and they never would’ve gotten in the car accident that took their life on the way back.

you’d spent a week in a foreign country while they spent a week in the hospital, your aunt and grandparents dealing with the repercussions before you came back and said your goodbyes in a dingy, hospital room.

mingi doesn’t know how long you both sat there in silence, your cries muffled against his chest and his arms wound tightly around you.

he loosened his hold immediately when he felt you try to pull away, watching as you stared at him, wiped your eyes and told him everything.

“my parents died four years ago, today.”

he watches with soft, sympathetic eyes and a breaking heart as you tell him about your guilt.

how if you just decided to stay home after weeks of begging them to go, they’d still be here.

“they didn’t have the money but i begged them for weeks, mingi,” you tell him, tears in your eyes and voice thick with emotion. 

“i wanted to go so badly because all my friends were going and i was too selfish to see they really couldn’t afford it.”

he can tell you’re not done talking so he only presses his lips together and grasps your hand tightly. squeezes it reassuringly as his thumb gently rubs back and forth against your skin.

“they both worked overtime for two weeks straight and gave me the money the last day it was due. and i barely thanked them,” you remember, the scene you’ve replayed in your mind hundreds of times flashing yet again.

you jumped up from the couch and snatched the money from their hands, throwing your arms around them in a quick hug before screaming your thanks and running up to your room to tell your friends.

“a drunk diver hit them on their way home from the airport and the doctors couldn’t believe they both didn’t die on impact. a-and no one in my family could even call me so i said my goodbyes when i got home, in the hospital.”

you look to mingi with tears streaming down your cheeks and you see wetness in his own eyes, his hand grasping onto yours tight.

“i couldn’t even talk to them one last time. or hear their voices. i don’t even know if they heard me.”

your voice breaks off after that, not being able to handle recounting this after years of staying silent about it; he’s the first person you’ve talked to about this besides the counselor you saw a few months after their death.

he pulls you in his lap and wraps his arms tightly around you, rocking you back and forth as he presses his lips to your head.

your eyes are closed tight as you focus on his breathing and soft murmurs. his deep, full voice muttering sweet nothings and quiet reassurances.

that your parents did hear you and they loved you till the end.

that it was no one’s fault but the driver who decided to get in a car after getting drunk.

that you shouldn’t put any blame on yourself, because your parents would want you to be happy and thriving.

“i know but it’s just hard,” you tell him, you teary face pulling away from his wet chest.

you look around the living room full of books and wooden furniture, a family portrait hung above a cluttered-filled desk; it was taken when you were ten and you remember hating that day because you had to wear an uncomfortable dress and tights.

“i don’t know how i’m ever gonna leave this place,” you voice aloud to him, one of the many concerns that muddled your mind when you started deciding on college or jobs or moving in with your perfect boyfriend of almost a year.

“it’s the last thing i have of them. i don’t... i don’t know if i’d be ever to leave this place, mingi.”

not after what happened last time.

not wanting to leave the house you grew up in to strangers who would create more happy memories and replace the ones you made with your own parents.

his face contorts into one of sympathy and pain, his heart breaking as the obvious guilt and dread is in your eyes.

he’d always seen a bit of torment behind them but you were always able to smile.

laugh with him and tease him and push whatever demons he knew you had aside; but he started seeing it again when he mentioned moving in, fear and anxiety and discomfort that he hated to even see behind your eyes.

“i don’t know how that will effect us, it’s something i’ve thought about a lot recently,” you confess quietly, playing with the edge of the blanket nervously. “especially when you mentioned us moving in together. i... i want to, so bad, because i love you and i think it’d be fun. but... i can’t leave.”

your tears start up again and a frown crosses mingi’s face, his body hovering over yours as he takes your face in his big hands.

he wipes at the tears threatening to slide down your cheeks before placing his lips on your head, breathing slowly and calmly against you as his warm breath wafts over you.

“baby, i understand completely, i really do,” he says, everything making sense now but... “but i don’t think your parents would want you to... limit your life like this.”

because you obviously had an interest in seeing the world. you obviously wanted to see different places and cultures and sights in the world that even your precious little town doesn’t hold.

but he can see tonight isn’t the night you’re gonna see that, if the way you shake your head and bury yourself back in his chest doesn’t show that.

and because he loved you more than anything else in the world, he understood it. held you and kissed you and made sure you knew he’d be by your side in whatever way you needed.

it was with his patience and love and unconditional support that you were able to live with him. keep your parents house as a sense of security but slowly move yourself out of it.

leaving a toothbrush at the apartment, a few sets of clothes, some shampoos and soaps until one night, you were waking up and falling asleep with him every morning and night.

present day:

the fight that ended you and mingi was over a trip to disney.

something meant to be so childish and fun and innocent morphing into a blowout, gut-wrenching fight that left the two of distraught.

hit both of you with the realization that whatever you once had had fizzled out and turned so horribly toxic, you were both losing yourselves.

it had started with yunho, san and wooyoung planning the trip, mingi over their house one day after the tension in the apartment got too much. he had scoffed when san mentioned it at first, wondering what business they had as college going twenty-somethings booking a trip to disney.

“it’ll be sweet!” san said, “we could go to the parks for a few days, everyone loves roller coasters! and then we can drive down to the beach, go surfing and go to bars and shit. it’d be so much fun, guys.”

and the more all of them thought about it, the more excited they got. looking at flights and car rentals and getting all their swim suits in order - that was until mingi came back home a day later and informed you of these plans.

“me and the guys were talking about booking a trip to disney,” was the first thing he said to you. not a hello or how are you or sorry for leaving and making you worry for a week.

“oh?” you hummed quietly, looking up from your spot at the kitchen sink; you’d made breakfast for two just in case he came home early but it was another serving of eggs and bacon in the trash.

“yeah, so is that something you’d wanna do?”

there’s something off about his tone that you immediately pick up on. snippy and on edge and defensive, like he’s already fully prepared to break out into a fight.

because he already knows you won’t do it. you won’t leave the 70 mile radius you’ve trapped yourself nor will you even try to go out of your comfort zone for him and you or anyone else.

and quite frankly, he’s grown really fucking sick of it. call him selfish or call him someone looking out for you, someone who knows this type of living isn’t normal, he can’t deal with it anymore.

“i... well i mean...how would we get there? and when?”

“we were looking at flights three weeks from now,” he says, carefully observing your face with slightly cold eyes. carefully waiting for the next hint of a breakdown he’s not gonna properly respond to.

you bite the inside of your cheek as panic starts to stir in your chest.

you haven’t been anywhere since the accident. you’ve gotten yourself so used to this environment that going anywhere else seems terrifying.

but you’ve seen how bad things will happen when you try to venture out. you left to do the same and it cost your parents your life - who’s to say you wouldn’t get your karma soon?

leave mingi without a girlfriend he doesn’t even care about anymore or your grandparents without a granddaughter you can’t help but feel they blame for their child’s death.

tears are quick to prick your eyes as you try to push down all of these feelings, looking down at the floor in a move mingi already knows is dismissive.

you hear him scoff and it sends a flurry of emotions through you, not even needing to lift your head to know he’s shaking his head.

“figures,” he hums lowly, making extra noise as he puts down his bag or plops down on the dining room chair. “i don’t know why i bothered asking.”

“mingi...” you begin breathlessly, guilt and shame and sorrow filling you.

“no, y/n.”

his voice is firm and hard and makes you meet his gaze, the look he’s throwing you icy and completely empty. he’s done and you’re done and there’s basically a ticking time bomb between you two.

“you didn’t even let me give you an answer.”

“because i know what it’s gonna be!” he roars, feeling stupid for getting excited when he knew damn well you wouldn’t be able to leave. “i know you’re gonna make up some bullshit excuse about school or work or money and you’re gonna say no.”

you can’t say anything because you know he’s right. but what he doesn’t know is that you’re trying. you try every day and every week and every month to push yourself out of your comfort zone and it just doesn’t work.

you’ve tried going away with him and you’ve tried expanding your horizons - you’e even moved out of your parents house to live with him. but it’s hard when you’re constantly reminded by the fact that your decisions ended a life.

while it was technically the drunk driver’s fault, your survivors guilt heavily outweighs that. intrusive thought after intrusive thought until you start to question why you’re even still here, too.

“i’m trying, mingi,” you say, your voice shaky and defeated. “i’m trying but you don’t even see that.”

“how are you trying?” he asks, watching your dejected form a few feet away from him. “you haven’t done anything different since you moved in with me. we’ve been living the same life for the past two years, y/n.”

but you just remember how patient he was when you first tried moving in. how he was so patient and kind and gentle and was everything you needed him to be.

but he can just remember how much he loved you. how patient and understanding he was, not fully grasping the severity of what happened to you and how incapable he was of dealing with it.

“i’m... so fucking sick of it. i’ve grown to be so sick of you and i hate that, y/n. i hate feeling like this but it’s the truth.”

“and you don’t think i am?” you blurt out, the dam of tears breaking as you hear him say those specific words to you - i’ve grown to be so sick of you.

your frame is smaller and fragile and you’re like a shell of the person you were when you first met as you make your way up to him, looking over him with all the pain and exhaustion in your eyes.

“you don’t think i’m sick of feeling this way? of seeing how much you obviously hate me and are over this when i can’t stop feeling this way? because i’m sorry it’s been inconveniencing you, mingi, but it’s been ruining me, too. sometimes i can’t even believe i’m still here.”

the last part of your sentence stirs something in him but he can only focus on your broken state. watching as you grow weaker and weaker because of him.

“you haven’t even been helping me,” you suddenly say, words quiet and soft-spoke but filled with an obvious hurt. “i... i don’t know why you’d even wanna go on a trip with me because we’d just fight, mingi. we’d just fight and i’d cry and you’d leave me. th-that’s what we keep doing.”

tears burn the back of his eyes, a knot growing in his stomach so big it feels like he’s about to puke.

“because i don’t know what to do anymore, y/n,” he say, his voice less harsh but still holding a certain degree of bite. “i tried so hard with you and nothing seems to work. i loved you, i still love you, and i was there for you and i tried so hard with you but... i don’t know how to help you.”

“you think yelling is the way? or leaving me is the way?” you laugh out manically, tears rolling down your face that you desperately try to reach out and wipe. “you’re sick of me but i’m sick of you, too. i’m sick of feeling this way and i’m so fucking sick of thinking you still love me.”

“you don’t think i love you?” he asks, rising from his chair and making his way over to you. 

his looming height should make you nervous, the way he’s looking down at you and threatening to trap you against the counter should make you nervous, but it doesn’t.

because coming to terms with this right here is the worst part. the conversation you’ve been avoiding for months and the obvious change in what you two have become.

“i don’t,” you say, finally meeting his gaze and seeing hurt and anger swirl behind them. they used to hold such a sweet softness that would sometimes make you feel better, even if just for a little bit.

“because even if you do, you’re still sick of me, right?”

one year ago:

“what if you get sick of me?”

the newest compromise had been his family coming here to meet you.

you and mingi had booked refundable tickets for a week in his hometown, a part of you wanting to desperately prove you could do something for him. something that would make him happy and maybe prove you love him a little more than you can convey.

but the second you got on the highway to the airport, you knew you weren’t gonna be able to.

memories played through your mind of you in the backseat of your parents car, laughing and talking with them as you promised to be careful and take a lot of pictures with them.

hearing them tell you they loved you and were so happy you were able to go after all.

and then you’d looked to the other side and see in your mind a car hitting the other. spinning out and smacking into the divider as an eruption of fire, car parts and the chaotic screeching of breaks echoed through the air.

mingi had to pull over to calm you down, bring you back to the real world in the form of hugging you close to his body and his hand running through your hair.

“i’m- i’m sorry, mingi, i’m sorry, i-”

“sh, you don’t have to apologize, baby, there’s nothing to apologize for,” he hums against your head, pulling you over the console to rock you gently in his lap.

he was warm and broad and soft spoken and everything about him made you feel safe. you couldn’t grasp at the time how or why he was so understanding and sweet but you didn’t even wanna question it.

because he was the one thing in your life that made you feel okay. that you had him and he had you and there was nothing that could be that bad if you had each other still. 

he didn’t let go of your hand once as pulled onto the highway, got off the exit and made his way back home.

he guided you back into the apartment and told you to go lay down and that he’d be there in a second. 

he cancelled the flight and called his mom, telling her you guys got rained out and that, if it was okay, he’d pay for them to fly out here next week.

the bed dips a few moments later, broad strong arms wrapping around your waist before you’re pulled into his chest.

it was after a few silent minutes stretched between you two, the calming rise and fall of his chest against your back, your small voice pierced the air.

“i’m sorry, mingi.”

he could tell you were gonna cry before you even started, turning you in his arms as he pulled you closer to him.

“baby, i already told you you don’t have to-”

“but i do,” you cut him off, lower lip trembling and stomach knotting guiltily. 

“i... i don’t think this is normal, mingi. i should be able to move on with my life and travel somewhere. i wanted to go so badly and meet your mom but i-” your voice breaks as tears fill your eyes and you try to catch the breath threatening to suffocate you.

“i’m scared i’m gonna be like this forever,” you say quietly, looking up and meeting his soft, sweet gaze. “i’m scared i’m gonna be like this forever and you’re gonna become tired of it.”

“baby... that’s never gonna happen,” he assures you, voice gentle but firm as he runs his fingers through your hair.

“and you’re not gonna be like this forever. we can get you help. and i can help you,” he says, his eyes looking into yours with such a raw honesty and love. “i... don’t really know how but i’ll do whatever it takes.”

“what if it’s not enough?” you ask, because at the time it’s like you knew just how bad this was gonna get. that even with as low as you felt then, it wasn’t even rock bottom.

“what if you get sick of me?”

“i won’t,” he reassures, pressing a long, lingering kiss to your head before settling you onto his chest carefully. “that’ll never happen because i love you, y/n. and i always will.”

present day:

in a turn of events, you were the one who left after that. 

came right to the place you first met, except now the lake isn’t frozen over and the late-afternoon sun had just set.

his words were too harsh and reminded you too much of his broken promises.

you felt too weak and pathetic and completely hopeless, the tense silence so horribly loud between you two you left without a word; and he hadn’t said anything either.

and now, as you sit at the spot you’ve always come to and found solace in, you can feel why he was always so hurt when you didn’t ask him to stay. because even though you were fighting and even though you both hurt each other, you wanted him to ask you to stay.

to please not go because that would’ve been the last possible way for you both to see there was something still there - even though it’s plain to see there isn’t.

too many fights and too many words have been said. too many lapses of silence and too many unspoken thoughts that now when uttered are just hurting both of you.

you’re both too hurt and you both have too many things to sort through that you can’t do together. 

one second you were staring down at the lake, your own broken reflection staring back as your feet hung in the water, and the next you couldn’t see. tears flooded your vision and sobs wracked through your body, loud, ugly, horrific sobs that you’ve been holding back for far too long.

you cry because you know it’s over with him, you know it’s been over for a while, but now it all feels real. 

you cry because you know you need some help to get past all of the guilt you feel, how if you don’t get help, you’re never gonna leave this town and see what else is out there.

you cry because you don’t even know where to start and know, even though it hurts, you have to do it alone.

you’re so lost in your thoughts and the way your cries echo through the yard that you don’t hear footsteps approach you.

you don’t even know anyone’s behind you until someone bends down and pulls you into their broad, warm chest. a chest you know far too well and a body that hasn’t held you like this in what feels like forever.

he knew you’d be here and he couldn’t stop his legs from jumping in the car and coming to see you after you left. half because he knew this had to happen and half because he was far too scared for you to be out here like this.

he knew what conversation was gonna follow but he knew had to hold you one last time. he missed holding you and he missed wiping your tears away.

“i don’t know what happened to us, mingi,” you whimper into his chest, the tears that have been building behind his eyes finally coming to the surface.

he doesn’t know what happened either. he doesn’t know when or where you guys went wrong or when you stopped talking to each other. he doesn’t know when he stopped loving you in such a way that was all consuming, where he knew he’d do anything and everything for you.

“i don’t... i don’t think this is working. i don’t know what to do but i know i can’t do this anymore.”

“i don’t know what happened either, baby,” he mumbles against your head, his words wobbly and wet as he tightens his hold on you. it feels as if every part of is heart is breaking, for the way he’s neglected you and the way your crying against him.

“i’m sorry i can’t help you. i wanted to so fucking badly but now... i just, i can’t, baby.”

you cry harder as you shake your head against him, feeling him plop down and pull you into his arms tighter.

it feels every bit as heartbreaking and upsetting as you both knew it’d be. it’s probably why you guys put it off for so long. because even though you feel the love you used to feel, you both know nothing will change.

he’ll resent you and you’ll resent him right back.

he’ll say he stayed for you and tried to help you and you’ll say you never asked him to do any of it.

you both sit there and cry and hold each other until the sky falls dark and air turns crisp, the moon reflecting off the lake in a way that hasn’t changed in two years.

but everything’s changed between you both and it’s too heartbreakingly obvious.

“i’ll miss you,” you mumbled to him.

because you know he’s gonna go on and do all the great things he’s wanted to. move out of this town and pursue whatever dreams he put off for you, the girl he once loved more than anything.

“i love you,” he confesses quietly against your head. “i really really did love you.”

because he knows he still does, he knows he always will, but it’s not something either of you can bear to hear right now.

you both have said what the other needed to hear and when you guys part tonight, maybe you’ll finally start feeling better. fix yourselves and the damage you’ve caused each other and maybe reunite when the universe deems it right.

two and a half years later:

it had always been your dream to see the northern lights.

something about them had always fascinated you, how they almost didn’t see real or were just a figment of fake editing that would only ever be seen in photos.

but you had an overwhelming need to see them before your very eyes. see the sight before you and marvel in just how truly fascinating and beautiful it was.

so that’s exactly what you did.

you wrote down a list of all the places you wanted to see: the egyptian pyramids, the great wall of china, the taj mahal, the eiffel tower, all of the sights that you knew in order to see, you’d have to leave the perfect little town you loved so much.

it took a lot of attempts, a lot of tears and anxiety and frantic calls to your therapist, but finally, you were able to do it.

it was the third to last place on your 6-month journey around the world, jet lag getting to you immensely but an extremely fulfilling pride and excitement within you.

you were able to do it. see the sights and meet hundreds of different people and experience all the things you convinced yourself you didn’t need or want. 

and you didn’t have a single regret until this very moment. 

because the rookie mistake you made within this amazing, journey of self-discovery around the world was not investing in a parka.

the biting temperatures of alaska were surely getting to you right now, your glove covered hands over your ears as you trekked through the snow with other groups of (properly dressed) tourists during the aurora season.

you found yourself in a snowy, freezing field, tall evergreen trees above your heads as you waited patiently for the sky to change perfectly, a buzzing excitement and low chatter from the people around you.

footsteps crunching on snow filled your ears from every direction, your eyes on the trees and large sky above you. a harsh gust of wind whipped past you and you let out a tiny squeal, your hands shooting up to your red, wind-burnt face.

you could hear a quiet, low chuckle beside you, something about the strangely familiar sound sending a whoosh of butterflies through your stomach. you didn’t understand them at that moment, ignoring your bodies odd reaction and keeping your eyes focused on the sky. 

it took hearing his voice, the same one you’d fallen in love with in your own backyard, for your eyes widen and quickly look over the snowy vast of land surrounding you.

mingi stepped in front of you, eyes full of amusement and pride and even disbelief, looking over your face with the same type of a fascination he had when he first met you.  

“aren’t you cold?”

inspired by: line without a hook by ricky montgomery, ty tiktok

tag list: @mochibabycakes @atinyarmyx1 @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich @chrryhwa @baekhvuns @marksflvr @bunbaebae @markleeyeosang @inkigayeo​ @nlost21​ @toffee-hwa​ @hyunjeansuniverse​ @cherryeonii​

#so aha.... not the dystopian au #but i was inspired by a song in the car and this happened <3 #mingi #mingi angst #mingi fluff #ateez #ateez angst #ateez fluff #mingi scenarios #mingi imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines

[nonstoplover]

happily ending catastrophies ~ Fred Weasley

summary: Fred is accidentally (and fortunately) at the right place in the right time, and is able to save a muggle girl's life.

pairing: Fred Weasley x muggle (female) reader

words: 5K

meaning of: (y/h/c) means 'your hair colour'

(kinda) warnings: (1) this plays after the war and Fred lives, because i refuse to accept anything else; (2) i'm not from the UK so excuse the possible mistakes i made about the underground; (3) also there are a couple time jumps, i didn't want to drag it for too long and had quite a few ideas i wanted to write

a/n: this was an idea born whilst i was studying for this year's most difficult exam at uni lol but i thought it was worth giving a shot so here it goes xx

my masterlist

(y/n) wakes up to the sweet scent of some kind of flower filling up her nose and lungs. Despite the panging in her head she cracks her eyes open to find the source, though as soon as she takes in the totally unfamiliar room around her, the flower immediately gets forgotten.

What the hell?

She frowns, pushing her upper body up on her elbows to get a better look around. She has never seen this room ever before. Or has she? Suddenly she's not so sure as a foggy memory appears in her mind. Her glance travels across the cardboard boxes beside the wall on the floor, piled high on top of each other, then a desk, a wardrobe, arriving to the bedside table that has a lamp and several strange things - looking like some foreign country's small candies in colourful wrapping - on the wooden surface.

Sitting up fully she tries to move her legs to place them on the floor, but finds that it's much harder than it usually is - than it should be. All her attention turn to her legs now and the weird feeling that surrounds her left leg she hasn't noticed before. Carefully she lifts the covers that wrapped her body in a warm embrace to see what's wrong with her leg. A gasp leaves her lungs right away as her eyes fall on the cast wrapped around it from her knees straight to her toes.

In that exact moment the door slowly opens and her eyes snap towards the entering figure - a flaming red haired young man - whilst her fingers scramble to get the blanket back on her lower body, hiding the lack of clothing she's wearing as she's in nothing else but her underwear.

"Ah, you're awake! How are you?" He asks when his eyes connect with hers and slightly widen.

And his voice brings back everything. Literally everything to her mind about how she got here, all the memories flashing by in front of her inner eyes.

- - - - - - - flashback - - - - - - -

Friday the 13th. The day of misfortune and disasters. (y/n) huffs as she makes her way down the street towards the underground station to go back to her apartment. Now she knows this fact from experience.

She woke up a bit late that morning and didn't have time to drink her usual morning coffee in the comfort of her home, so she had to wait until her first break at work to drink one. When she just finished brewing a cup for herself in the small kitchen at her work, the handle of her favourite mug she kept in there broke and the now handle-less mug full of the brown beverage fell to the ground and shattered to a thousand tiny pieces, and if it wasn't already bad enough, the coffee splashed on her white shirt, colouring it light brown and leaving a wet stain behind all across her chest.

After that she managed to get through the day quite normally, right until 3pm, when her boss called her in to his office.

"The company is facing a hard time," his voice still echoes inside her head, making her shiver in sadness and anger. "I'm sorry, (y/n), the performance you showed us in the past two years was truly great, but you gotta understand that I have to decrease the number of employees. And that unfortunately includes you. I'm sorry."

If the way she worked was actually 'truly great', then why do they fire her and not someone else?

Well, probably her boss told the exact same thing to everyone he kicked out today, she thinks, but it doesn't help at all - it doesn't get her her job back.

So half an hour ago she packed everything in a box and set off to go back home, mentally raging about the cursed day. She has never believed in any superstition like this, but today she's changed her mind. Maybe all these things are true.

And that's when the next string of catastrophies starts.

As she's moving along the pavement next to the tracks at the station, the heel of her shoe breaks and she stumbles, her box flying away from her grip, all the contents of it scattering all over the ground. (y/n) tries gaining her balance back, taking a couple steps back, but the pavement disappears from under her feet as she reaches the edge, completely unaware of it.

She falls back, down to the tracks, and an impossible pain shoots up from her left leg as she lands, the air totally knocked out from her lungs. As she tries catching her breath, her hands move to lay flat on the ground so she can push herself up, but the world around her seems like it's spinning and she feels too weak to move a single muscle in her body.

Everything decelerates into slow motion and she glances around to see what she could do when something bright catch her eyes. A shiny warm yellow circle in the distance, getting slightly bigger and bigger with every second. She observes it carefully, thinking about how pretty it looks as she wonders what it might be. It only takes a second or two for her mind to catch up and suddenly she's more than aware that a train comes towards her and she's not capable to do anything to stop the collision from happening.

Friday the 13th.

Out of nowhere she feels a presence next to her, and just as she turns her head that way to see what's going on and her eyes fall on locks of bright red hair and a freckled face, the man has already grabbed her arm and with a fierce pull hoisted her up to a standing position. It feels like her arm is ripped out from her body, for a moment even the unstoppable hurting from her leg fades out to give space for the one in her upper body and she gasps before everything goes black.

- - - - - - - end of flashback - - - - - - -

The following events go by as a dozen of blurry pictures (y/n) can't make out in her mind and she blinks a couple times to get back to the present, to reality. She focuses on the redhead again, the last person she clearly remembers seeing.

"Where am I?" Her voice comes out hoarse and quiet and she clears her throat, waiting for his answer, knowing how she behaves quite rude completely ignoring his question, but she just can't help it.

She hasn't a clue where they could be, she's never seen a place like this in her entire life. It's obvious it's not a hospital. And after what happened it's just as obvious that she needs hospital treatment.

"The Burrow," he replies with a small smile playing on his lips.

And though she thought his answer would help clear some of the fog inside her head, it only confuses her more. Fred bites back the chuckle that threatens to burst from him seeing her cute frowning expression and waits for her to ask again, knowing it'll soon happen.

"The what?" The girl speaks up again, her voice now much clearer.

"My family home."

The confusion still stays on her face, and Fred truly can't blame her for it - who wouldn't be distraught after waking up in a stranger's home? Still, seeing the same expression he first ever saw on her face brings him back to the Tube station in London.

- - - - - - - Fred's flashback - - - - - - -

He's rushing down the stairs to catch the apparently soon arriving underground train, cursing his twin brother under his breath for winning the bet that resulted in the usage of any and every magical thing being forbidden for Fred for this whole week. Now he has to run errands adjusting to the timetables of muggle public transport and he's running out of time. Everything takes so much more time in the muggle world, and in the past few days he's grown to appreciate being born into the world of magic more than ever.

Arriving next to the tracks he catches sight of a dozen or so people there and relief fills his body. So the train hasn't left yet. He slows down to a walking pace and tries to catch his breath, and that's when he notices something weird about the people, something he has never seen in the past days when he used the Tube. They're all moving closer to each other, slowly making a tight circle, all of them looking in the same direction, as if something was on the tracks.

Curiosity rises in Fred and he makes his way to the edge of the crowd, standing on his toes to tower over it and glance down. His eyes immediately fall on a young woman lying there, one of her legs twisted in an abnormal way. She's looking to the side, towards the tunnel from where the train should arrive any minute now. Her expression displays confusion and slight fear, but her breathtaking beauty is still obvious, and it makes his heart skip a beat. His eyes slowly turn to where she's looking and he can see the light that swiftly grows brighter and brighter inside the usually dark tunnel, but his mind can't comprehend what he sees as all his thoughts are still only about the gorgeous woman lying there.

"The train's coming!" Somebody in the crowd shouts and that's what wakes Fred from his daze. His head snaps back and forth from the tunnel to the girl a couple times, so fast it's a miracle his neck doesn't break.

His body moves before he can fully think about his actions and suddenly he's pushing people away to make a path for himself in the crowd and he jumps down to the tracks. He hears a couple gasps from behind him, even a couple voices trying to inform him again and again that the train is actually soon there, but he doesn't care. All he focuses on is the task in front of him.

Squatting down he grabs one of the woman's arms and drapes it around his shoulder, standing up again as fast as he can, pulling her with him a bit harsher than he intended. She lets out a gasp in obvious pain, but he knows there's no time to be more gentle. Both of his arms move around her, one around her shoulder blades and one around the backs of her thighs to lift her up bridal style as he knows one of her legs is broken and she can't stand on it. And he's thankful for his own speed and thoughtful actions as he feels her body go limp as she faints.

The head-splittingly loud sound of a horn fills the air just as he turns around, signalling that they were noticed by the people on the train. As he takes the first few steps back towards the pavement he glances up, seeing two or three men already there bending down with their arms stretching in his direction. Fred quickens his pace as much as he's able to and practically throws the woman in the waiting hands, helping them pull her up by pushing her body from under, the screeching of brakes, iron on iron being the only sound that can be heard.

He stays on the tracks until he's completely sure that she's safe, than he grabs the edge of the pavement and swiftly pushes himself up, crawling on the cold surface until his legs are lying there as well. He feels a breeze moving against his back as the train arrives to the station, but he doesn't care about it, neither the cheering that erupts from the people around him, celebrating his heroic act, not even the burning feeling in his muscles from being strained. He just pushes himself up and stumbles to the woman, falling back down on his knees to be able to get a better look of her.

From up close he can see how she's even younger than he has thought, probably close to his age. She's obviously falling in and out of unconsciousness every other second. The word 'ambulance' enters his ears from the people around them, and he finds himself with a new task ahead of him. Somehow he has to get the girl away from this place and back to the shop so he can take her to the Burrow. Muggle hospital treatment isn't enough now, the wizarding world offered much better methods of healing. His mother will know what to do.

- - - - - - - end of Fred's flashback - - - - - - -

"And why am I here?" (y/n) continues asking.

"You broke your leg."

"Yeah, I figured, but shouldn't I be in a hospital then?" She tilts her head, raising an eyebrow.

"This is better than a muggle hospital," the young man shrugs.

"Mu... a what?"

"Ah, sorry. Slipped out," he let out a small chuckle, scratching the back of his neck in slight embarrassment.

Here comes the moment he dreaded. When he has to explain the existence of magic and the wizarding world to a completely clueless person and trying to do that without making a complete fool out of himself in front of the angel-like girl when she won't believe him - which he's sure she'll do.

"Wait, who are you? I don't even know your name," she speaks up again. "And how could I truly thank you for saving my life if I don't know even that?"

"There's no need to thank me," Fred protests.

"Of course there is!" (y/n) squeals as loudly as her weakened state allows. "Not everyone would jump down to the tracks when there's a train coming to save a complete stranger."

"Yeah, well, true," he mumbles, thinking back to how nobody did anything for her, anger filling his veins. Then he clears his throat, shaking his head to get rid of the negative thoughts and to focus on the girl again. "I'm Fred. Fred Weasley."

"Thank you for all you did, Fred. I'm (y/n) (y/l/n)," she sticks her hand out and a smile makes it's way to Fred face, matching the one on hers as he steps closer to shake her hand.

- - - - - - - 2 months later - - - - - - -

"I'm absolutely fine, Freddie, stop acting like I'm made of porcelain. I'm totally able to walk down the stairs on my own two feet," (y/n)'s giggling voice fills the air on the second floor of the Burrow when the redhead gently pulled her arm around his neck as he's done so many times in the past weeks.

"Alright, alright, I get it," Fred puts his hands up in surrender, backing away as laughter erupts from his throat and he turns his head away to hide the blush forming on his cheeks from the nickname she used.

Unfortunately he only gets completely face to face with his smirking twin brother who winks his way before pushing past him, a knowing chuckle sounding from him as he rushes downstairs, past (y/n), who follows him right away, only a bit slower, with Fred's careful, watching eyes trained on her back.

"See? I told you," the girl glances back at him over her shoulder after arriving downstairs, not stopping on her way to the dining table, only to stumble in a shoe someone left in the way. Fred immediately reaches out to grab her elbow and stop her from falling. From the strength of his attentive pull on her arm, instead of flying to the ground she crashes into his chest.

"I don't know, I'm not so sure," he teases, looking down with a smirk playing on his lips.

(y/n) moves her head up to connect her eyes with his, and Fred glances around her face, taking in the pink colour of her skin on her cheeks caused by the embarrassment of almost falling, then as his eyes reach the sight of her lips, he suddenly becomes almost too aware of how close the two of them actually are, and the breath hitches in his throat.

"Come on, kids, dinner's gonna get cold!" Molly's voice breaks the moment they shared and (y/n) regains balance, then gently pushing the boy away she turns around and limps the rest of the way to the dining table.

All of the Weasleys are already sitting there, watching the two of them appear in sight, and (y/n) has to bite back a giggle, still not used to the seemingly infinite number of redheads, all smiling wide and sweet at her. George pulls the chair she has always sat on ever since she was able to get downstairs out for her, offering a helping hand knowing that it's harder to sit down with only one properly working leg. Fred reaches out for her other arm just as she makes contact with George's hand, and the two of them don't let go until she's stopped moving.

She glances back and forth between the two boys sitting on either side of her, rolling her eyes at how overly protective both of them behave, when she's already told them hundreds of times that she's able to get by on her own.

The meal is delicious and the company is entertaining, just like it has always been since (y/n) stepped foot into the Burrow. Conversation flows without a hitch, only the occasional laughter breaking it for a second or two, and the (y/h/c) girl finds it hard to think about the inevitable - the moment that's coming fast, the moment when she has to leave these people and go back to her normal life. The Weasleys has become like a second family for her, and she fears that if she walks out that door, she'll never see them again. They're living a different life, in a completely different world. Their paths most likely will never cross again. She tries to brush off the sad thoughts, knowing that she'll have all the time to mope and grieve when she's back in her (ordinary and plain) flat on her own.

As she's helping Molly clean the dishes after the family finishes dinner, (y/n) pauses for a moment to glance at the redhaired woman. "Thank you for letting me stay here and for taking such good care of me."

"Oh, sweetie, you're more than welcome. It's our pleasure to have you here."

"That's true," Ginny chimes in with a joyful grin on her face as she places another dirty plate in front of her mother. "Your presence brightened up our boring lives."

"Boring?" (y/n) lets a loud laugh escape her throat. "Your lives are nothing even close to boring. Everything around here is breathtaking and spectacular."

"Is it though?"

"Try living my life for a week or so, and you'll know what boring really means," she shakes her head, the different memories and thoughts swiftly filling her mind as she turns around to lean the small of her back against the counter top, her eyes instantly connecting with Fred's, who's still sitting at the table, shamelessly watching her with searching eyes.

"I still can't believe there's a whole world of wizards and witches that we have absolutely no clue about. It makes me wonder how many things are there that's hidden from us. And it makes me scared how clueless we all are in the muggle world."

(y/n)'s only able to stand the intensity of his gaze for a couple seconds before she has to turn her head away, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks and heat them up. She swallows, only hoping that it stays unnoticed by the boy, but when she finally dares to glance back for the shortest of moments, she catches sight of a small smirk playing on his lips and she knows that nothing has gone unnoticed by him. Clearing her throat she tries to find something else to say, speaking the first words that come to her mind.

The newly learned word still rolls uncertainly from her tongue, not sure if she says it correctly, but when her restlessly moving eyes accidentally catch Fred's again, she sees a new kind of glint sparkling in his eyes, and it's enough to let her know that she used it correctly.

"It's not your fault," Ginny places a hand probably destined to be reassuring on the older girl's shoulder. "We're just too good at hiding it."

The two of them share a laugh, and unbeknownst to (y/n), it turns the shape of Fred's eyes into something that very much resembles a heart. His own heart flutters at the sound, the temperature of the room suddenly feeling too hot for him to bear, and he abruptly kicks his chair back, standing up and swiftly moving out of the house to get some fresh air and somehow try to cool the fire that's burning inside of his chest.

(y/n)'s eyes follow him, an eyebrow raised in question, deep in her thoughts right until the door closes shut again behind the boy. The sudden noise brings her back to the present and she shakes her head to get rid of the things running around in her head.

"Anyway, I gotta go upstairs and pack. I really have to go back home now," she sighs, pushing her body away from the counter.

"I'll come help you," Ginny immediately offers, hurrying after her.

Two and a half hours and a heart wrenching goodbye later (y/n) and Fred come to a stop outside her apartment's door, both of them feeling a previously never felt sadness fill their hearts.

All (y/n) can think of is flashing images of the flaming red haired boy. The way he sat at the edge of the bed she was lying in, telling her everything about the wizarding world. The way he lifted her up so effortlessly as if she weighed nothing to bring her downstairs when she was unable to walk in the first weeks. The way he walked her around the house and the garden, showing her everything and explaining things to her, adjusting to her extremely slow pace without a word. The way he showed her multiple of the products he and his twin brother sell in their shop, sometimes only speaking of their effects, other times even showing her, not caring with the fact it caused something inconvenient for himself as long as he made her laugh - which she did so many times and so hard that it made her sides hurt. The clothes he let her have when winter set in and her own became too thin to keep her warm, and the way the material smelled like him. The lingering touches of his calloused fingertips against the skin of her cheeks when he thought she was fast asleep - when in fact she was completely awake, fighting back the urge to press her face further into his touch.

In the meantime all Fred can think of is flashing images of the gorgeous muggle girl. The genuine curiosity that sparkled in her eyes whenever he told her about the world he's living in, the endless amount of questions she's asked him about anything and everything, the pure interest she showed from the first time he told her about the existence of magic. The way she bonded with each and every member of the Weasley family, finding a common thing with all of them and eventually making them all grow fond of her. The way she told him all about the muggle world and her own life, sharing all the details with him without hesitation - trusting him right away. The way his name rolled from her tongue - even more when she called him Freddie. The bubbling, loud laughter that erupted from her throat when he told her about the shop and all the pranks George and him did back in Hogwarts or when he showed her the products they now sell in the shop, the laugh that always made his heart skip a beat, the laugh he couldn't help but adore along with the fact that she seemingly didn't care the slightest bit how loud she is or how funny her laughter might sound. The way she looked in his clothes, always taking his breath away, making him wish nothing more in the rest of his life than to see that very sight every day as long as he lived - and possibly even after that.

"Well, thanks for getting me home," (y/n) points at the door behind her back as she looks up into his mesmerizing eyes. "And for jumping down in front of a train for me. And for letting me into your family home. And for taking care of me."

"It was the least I could do," Fred smiles sheepishly, his mind spinning, trying to come up with something to say that would keep the girl in his life.

"Bye, Freddie," she hesitates for a moment, then decides it doesn't matter anymore and leans in, pressing a soft kiss on his left cheek.

Fred's eyes flutter closed, heart bursting with the sudden feeling of love from both her lips touching his skin and the oh so loved nickname. He freezes, unable to think anything else than eight very important letters.

The girl moves back, fiddling with her keys to find the correct one, pushing it in the slot and turning it, gently shoving the door until it's wide open. She steps in, her eyes taking in the furniture and decoration she once loved but now finds unbelievably plain and mundane. A sigh escapes her lungs and she turns around to close the door - and wave once more the boy.

Fred still stands in the exact same spot, obviously not moving even the slightest bit since she backed away from him. (y/n) raises her hand to wiggle goodbye with her fingers at him whilst moving to close the door with the other hand, already feeling the tears blur her vision as she tries to take in the sight of him as best as she can to be able to remember him forever.

"Wait!" Fred exclaims, placing a palm flat against the wooden material to stop it before it fully closes.

This time (y/n)'s the one to freeze, hand pausing high in the air and she even holds back the breath in her lungs as she waits for him to continue.

"Can we meet again?"

Her eyes widen in surprise. She always thought that he'd never want to see her again. That he'd be happy to finally get rid of her and be able to continue his life as before. He wants to meet with her again?

"I... y-yes, of course," she stutters, heart stammering inside her ribcage so wild and loud, she's almost sure he can hear it.

The extremely wide smile that splits his face in two hearing her answer makes it impossible for her not to mirror it, her own lips curving on their own accord. Fred, feeling the previous nervous shyness evaporate from his body and the always present confidence fill his vein up again, takes a step closer to her, then another until he's right beside the door, gently pushing it wider open again. (y/n)'s hand on the door handle inside goes limp, and she lets it fall down to hang loose beside her body as Fred steps inside.

When he's so close that she can feel the breath coming from his nose reach the skin of her face, his lips open again to let out a whisper. "Can I kiss you?"

The already abnormal rhythm her heart beats in gets even more uneven, and her head moves in a nod as she breathes out the word 'yes'. Fred's eyes sparkle up even more, and his hands slowly start moving up, one reaching out to gently caress her cheek whilst the other wraps around the small of her back. Slowly, extremely slowly he leans down, pausing for a second just before their lips could touch, and as a wave of impatience rushes through the girl, she raises her head and presses her lips against his.

Fred lets out a muffled chuckle at her eagerness before tilting his head and snaking his arm further around her torso to pull her flush against his own body, his hand that's resting on her cheeks moving slightly further back until his fingers completely disappear in her (y/h/c) locks, his lips moving passionately against hers.

She completely melts into his touch, feeling like she's floating in the air, as if she's only dreaming. But when they both run out of oxygen and pull away to fill their lungs again, their foreheads pressing against each other in search of support and their eyes connecting without problem, looking deep into his beautiful brown orbs (y/n) grows sure right away that it's truly reality, not just a dream.

"I love you," he breathes in-between his quiet pants, but it's enough to make (y/n) totally dizzy as a love-struck grin spreads across her face.

And in that very moment they both know that their story is just starting.

.::the end::.

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[miss-smutty]

The Destructive Secret

Chapter 3

A/N- The secrets out! Well to you guys anyway 🤫

Summary- You've got a secret to hide and it's going to cause complete and utter destruction. It's only so long until your lies are going to catch up to you.

Word count- 3,258

Warnings- Swearing, lies, deceit, cheating

Pairing- Chris Hemsworth X you / Liam Hemsworth X you

18+ only!

Disclaimer: This is an entire work of fiction/AU and has no affiliation to real life what so ever! This is a fictional story about fictional characters who happen to share names and faces with some real people.

Posted: 25th May 2021

Taglist-: @innerpaperexpertcloud @pandaxnienke @chickensarentcheap @mostly-marvel-musings

Chapter 1 + 2

"Morning babe, I tried to let you have a sleep in. I didn't wake you did I?" He asks, preoccupied with the washing up.

"No, I actually had a good sleep for once." You say nonchalantly while searching through the kitchen cupboards for a mug in a half asleep haze. "That's not going to last long when I have to spend the weekend in a hotel bed though."

Finally finding your favourite mug right at the back of the cupboard, you slam it on the counter a little more aggressively than you expected, startling you out of your daziness. Your boyfriend raises his eyebrow at you questioningly and you just shrug your shoulders back at him. It was definitely going to be one of them days, those days where nothing goes right. You would question what you'd done to deserve it but you already know the answer to that.  You were just going to have to put up with karma kicking your ass at any given moment for the rest of your life.

"Aww I know babe, at least it's only two night's though." He comes up behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your waist. "You've just reminded me -" He presses carefully, the way he shifts his composure telling you he's uncomfortable with what he's about to say and your heart begins to beat a little faster. " - I know you're going away tomorrow and I really wanted to have the night alone..." He pauses again.

"Just tell me, what is it?" You ask, trying to keep the annoyance from your voice.

"My brother called this morning, he sounds in a bad way so I said he can come over and hang out tonight. You don't mind do you?" Now your heart stops beating completely, what the hell is he playing at? 

 "I'm worried about him, he's not been right lately and he's going away for work tomorrow night too so it's the only time I can see him really." You're angry with him for saying he's going away too, how more fucking obvious can he make it? You're just both suspiciously going to be away with work at the same time. You can't protest about it now, you don't want to raise any more questions.

"No of course not, babe." You agree reluctantly, still seething with anger on the inside. "Right, I'm going for a shower and then I better start packing." You sulk.

"Do you want some help?" He ask as you kiss him on his cheek while you're passing. 

"It's ok babe, you know how meticulous I am with my packing." You say smiling softly at him.

"Gotcha, I am not getting involved with that. Give me a shout if you want a coffee." 

"You're the best." 

                         ****************

Using the tap to muffle the sound of your voice while you make a call. This was starting to become a habit now, the sound of running water in the background whenever you speak to him, a memory that you will never forget. Whenever you run your bath or fill the sink you're going to be reminded of your lying and cheating. Great! Just another thing to add to the list of things to look forward to in the future.

You never thought you'd be a cheater, especially to someone you loved and cared for so deeply. You'd always despised people who cheated, could never understand how people could have multiple lives and cheat multiple times. Naively thinking that if they weren't happy they should just tell the person they are with and stop all the hurt but it doesn't always work that way. You didn't suddenly think 'hey I'm not happy, I'm going to go fuck someone else'. You certainly wouldn't have chosen his brother if that was the case. Over the years it just happened and you hated yourself for it. You weren't even unhappy in your relationship, so that throws all your theories of 'cheaters' completely out of the window. The sound of the dial tone snaps you from your thoughts.

"Hi babe." He answers almost immediately, leaving you with no time to regain your composure. "Hello?" 

"Oh erm.... Don't 'hi babe' me." Not a great start, you have to admit.

"What's wrong?" You can tell that Chris is amused with your tone of voice and it makes that anger resurface.

"You know exactly what's wrong, why the fuck are you coming over here tonight?" 

"Erm to s-" you don't even give him time to speak before you interrupt him. You don't believe that he's just coming to see Liam, you know he's coming to see you no matter what he says.

"As if it's not awkward enough without having you both in the same house together... You have to cancel." The thought of them both being together with you filled you with fear. How were you supposed to act around them both? The idea of it fills you with chills.

"I'm not cancelling. I haven't seen him in a while and he invited me. It'll be fine, I'll be on my best behaviour, I promise. I get you all to myself tomorrow anyway." 

"Exactly so why do you need to come over here and make everything all awkward?"

"Babe I'm coming to see my brother, you get me to yourself tomorrow. Don't be selfish" you could hear the amusement in his voice, you're sure he enjoys this.

"Pfft." A huff is about the only thing you could manage right now.

"You get to have both your favourite people in the same room, at the same time... Hey maybe we can have a threesome?" 

"Fuck off." You murmur, although you have to admit the thought of it does turn you on slightly. In a perfect world that would be the best possible outcome but it's not a perfect world and that most definitely would never happen.

"I'll see you tonight, wear something sexy." He laughs.

"This isn't funny." You reply before hanging up the phone and you're left alone with the tormenting sound of flowing water.

This is going to be a disaster, you can't help but think that tonight is the night it all comes out. Surely this isn't what he has planned, he wouldn't want to hurt his brother in such a viscous way. To announce at dinner that he's fucking his girlfriend and that they've been going behind his back and fucking for years. Surely not?  You're pretty sure you're being paranoid but know you're going to be on the edge of your seat all night, frightened everytime he opens his mouth to speak.

                                 **************

You're sure you've downed almost a full bottle of wine before he's even arrived, you try to remember how many glasses you've had when you finally hear the dreaded chime of the doorbell. Your head is dizzy with bubbles already, your stomach churning at the thought. It wasn't the cleverest of ideas to drink so much already, not when you need to be sharp and aware of what you're doing and saying. Fuck.

The way Chris' eyes light up when he sees you reminds you exactly why this is all worth it. You feel your nerves settle slightly now the first step was over and it wasn't so bad was it? You don't know what you were actually expecting, him to walk through the door and kiss you passionately sounds about right though.

"Chris! Hi, how you doing?" You act, standing on your tiptoes to hug him. It's so hard acting like he's your brother in law and not your... Boyfriend? Lover? You don't even know what to call him.

"Hi, beautiful." He whispers into your ear, making your stomach flip when you feel his lips graze against your neck. "I'm good thank you, how are you guys?" He says louder, moving away from your arms reluctantly and standing against the counter. The glint in his eyes and the smirk on his lips make him look sexy as hell, you bite onto your lip as hard as you can. Hoping to draw blood so you can concentrate on the pain and not the fact you want to rip your boyfriend's brothers clothes off.

"We're great" Liam replies.

"I'm sure you are." Chris says sarcastically under his breath, luckily Liam didn't hear him. You give Chris the glare, reminding him to be on his best behaviour.

"But how are you? You didn't sound too good the other day." Liam asks, opening a bottle of wine.

"I was probably just tired bro, you know how it is. I don't get much sleep nowadays." 

"Oh yeah, is a woman involved by any chance?" Liam asks, laughing to himself.

"Yeah, something like that." Chris subtly grazes your hand as you walk into the kitchen to help Liam. You freeze on the spot, looking into his eyes you see a desperately pleading look. You know this is torture for him, that he just wants to grab you and hold onto you. Even though he tries his best not to, he hates his brother for it, he hates that he gets to have you.

"Anyway, it smells great in here. What you making?" Chris says locked in eye contact with you. 

"I've just thrown together some dinner." You say casually, although deep down your heart is tugging and your hands are shaking.

"Her food is fucking amazing, I probably should have made sure you hadn't eaten first though?" Liam puts his arms around you and kisses your cheek as you carry on stirring the food on the stove. You're glad you have your back to Chris because you dread to think of his reaction. How you have to pretend you don't know each other on that deep level. You had tried to warn him that this was a bad idea.

"Yeah, no that would be awesome. Thanks" You can tell by the way his voice broke that this is causing him pain and there's nothing you can do about it. 

                              **************

"Do you want a beer or are you ok with wine?" Liam asks Chris as you sit down at the table ready to eat.

"I'd love a beer bro" Chris replies. You watch from the corner of your eye as Liam heads to the fridge, your heart beating a little faster now he's out of sight. Looking to Chris nervously.

Chris takes the opportunity while Liams back is turned and grabs your hand under the table. Stroking your palm with his thumb he mouths the words 'love you'. You can't help but feel sorry for him, this horrible situation you're all in. You mouth the words back to him before he lets your hand go when Liam comes back into sight.

All the way through the meal Chris can't take his eyes off of you, you're worried Liam will notice but he's paying no attention. Obviously he has no reason to doubt his loyal girlfriend and protective big brother, why would he? Which makes your betrayal even more unbearable.

"This is great Y/N." Chris says after tasting your food and moving your dress a little higher so he can place his hand on the top of your bare thigh under the table. The shock makes you jump and you hit your knee on the top of the table.

"Are you alright?" Liam asks looking slightly confused.

"Sorry, yeah. I just burnt my mouth." There's a slight hint of amusement in your words, you're a bad person but the situation is just too much not to find it slightly funny. The feel of Chris' hand on your thigh makes you feel butterflies in your stomach at the same time as the deep sick feeling of dread, your mind in a giant conflicted turmoil of feelings.

You can see Chris is also trying to hide his laugh as he takes a sip from his beer, one hand still on your thigh. Why the fuck am I sat in the middle? You hadn't thought about it when you'd sat down but now realise it was a massive mistake and also subconsciously the perfect place for you. The playing piece in a match against brothers, only one player is unaware there is any contest at all.

Chris finishes his beer and puts it down on the table loudly, filling the awkward silence between you all. You can understand the awkwardness between you and Chris but why is Liam not speaking? He wanted to see Chris to figure out what was wrong with him but he's not asking any questions. Has he figured it out? Did he see Chris touch your hand earlier? Had he seen you both whispering? You wriggle in your chair, feeling deadly uncomfortable and hoping Chris would move his hand. He didn't take the hint.

"Do you want another?" Liam asks Chris, already getting up from his chair and not waiting for an answer. Something is definitely wrong. Chris's hand moves further up your thigh, grazing the lace of your panties with the tip of his long finger. He's also completely oblivious to your awkwardness, drinking too much is numbing his senses and becoming dangerous. He's playing with fire. 

You fling your chair back from the table, standing abruptly, your cheeks flushed red with embarrassment and nervousness.

"I'm just gunna get some more beers from the basement." Liam announces, Chris sat cooly in his chair with not an ounce of nervousness.

"It's ok I'll go, you guys have a chat." You say, desperately needing to escape for a minute to catch your breath.

"Don't be silly, it'll only take me a minute." Liam says, already walking towards the door.

Chris takes his cue again, standing from his chair and moving over to you. Standing closely so he can whisper in your ear, his arm pressed to the small of your back while he holds you against him.

"I can't wait to have you in my bed again tomorrow Y/N. I've waited too long." 

"Chris, shh." 

"No, you shh. I wish I had you now, right here. I could just sit you up on this counter and fuck you right here -" He moves his hand up your skirt, gripping your ass in his big hands. "- You want that don't you? Tell me." His teeth graze the skin on your neck, making your head hang back loosely. You want it so bad, all your tension melts away as your muscles relax in his arms.

"We've got all weekend Chris, we can't do this here. It's too risky." You sigh, carefully wrapping your arms around his neck and listening for any sign of Liam.

"Fuck I know but it's so hard being here with you and not being able to fucking touch you." He moves away from you, running his hand though his hair in frustration.

"I told you how hard it'd be." You say.

"How hard what would be?" Liam asks breathlessly. Fuck. You hadn't heard him coming back, how much more had he heard? 

You're lost for words, completely frozen in shock. If he hadn't heard or seen anything it was still way too close for your liking.

"To shoot this ball of foil into that bin from all the way over here." Chris replies hastily, you're incredibly impressed with his quick thinking.

"Let me have a go then." Liam says, taking the foil from Chris. Typical competive brothers. Chris turns to you and winks devilishly, you're perfectly aware of how desirable he looks but you try to push that thought aside. You can't be thinking about that, the things he had just been saying and the thrill of almost being caught, all at once. 

"My turn." You say raising your eyebrows at them both as you swing your hips, confidently over to the fridge. Chris bites his lip as he watches you walk over. "Watch and learn boys." This is quite possibly the strangest situation you've ever been in but you might as well make the most of it.

You shoot your shot and land the foil ball straight into the bin. Turning around and bowing, you're wide eyed when you straighten back up. They both moved towards you as if they were going to kiss you, luckily Chris stopped himself in time.

"Only you could've landed that shot." Liam says, picking you up in his arms, leaving you with no choice but to wrap your legs around him while he kisses your lips deeply. 

You risk a glance at Chris over Liam's shoulder and he's seething with anger, you can see it written all over his face. 

"I'm gunna go outside for some air." Chris announces blankly while Liam sets you back on the ground, a look of concern on his face.

"You alright bro?" Liam asks with no reply from Chris as he walks out of the door.

You get on with the cleaning up, distracting yourself and hoping Liam hadn't noticed Chris' reaction. You can sense Liam behind you, stood on the spot thinking. He's working it out, he's putting together all the pieces and finally working it out.

"I've worked out what's wrong with Chris." He comes up behind you, emptying the plates into the trash. Fuck, here we go.

"What do you mean?" You ask gently, not really wanting to hear his conclusion.

"You know, the reason why he's been moping about all the time." You don't turn around, you just listen, hiding your face and any reaction you're showing. "Well he's quite obviously jealous of us." He adds. There we go, he's worked it out or he's definitely worked out Chris' part in it all.

You felt your stomach drop, Chris was so obvious it wouldn't take a genius to see something was wrong.

"What makes you say that?" You press, carefully. Your back still turned to Liam while you clean the surfaces.

"Don't tell me you didn't notice how he just acted when I kissed you." Of course you noticed, you just hoped Liam hadn't. It won't be long until he puts all the pieces together and figures this all out, if he hasn't already. You pour the last of the bottle of wine into your glass, gulping it greedily. Lord knows you're going to need it.

"He needs a girlfriend, can't you fix him up with one of your friends?" You can't describe the relief you feel right now and a small twang of jealousy at the thought of Chris with one of your friends.

"I'm sure your brother isn't short of admirers Liam, he doesn't need me to fix him up" Your tone of voice was a little too short. Pull it together.

"I suppose you're right but he doesn't have the best taste in women does he?" You can feel your cheeks burning, you're fighting the urge to defend yourself. Telling Liam his brother had the same taste in women when it came to you, wouldn't go down quite so well would it? 

"I'm seeing someone actually Liam." Chris says, overhearing your conversation as he came back in after finally composing himself.

"Oh really? You never said." Liam asks curiously.

"Yeah, we're keeping it to ourselves for now... Until she tells her boyfriend." What the actual fuck? You can't believe he's just said that, he looks at you defiantly, completely over this whole thing.

Liam nearly spat his drink out and you're sure your cheeks are beetroot red, you don't have a clue what to do in this situation. 

"Is she married? Do I know her?" Liam questions further. You're hoping and praying he stops with the questions, Chris is ready and willing to come clean, you can tell by his expression.

"No not married but you do know her. You know her really well actually." Chris says while avoiding your gaze purposefully...

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