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fandom-imagines-stories · 3 years

Text

Learning Teamwork

Josh Lyman x Reader

Words: 2184

Summary: Two colleagues that usually butt heads are forced to play nice when the President sends them to attend to a Governor's Ball in his home state.

Notes: I have so much Josh angst I wanted to write something a little fluffier that I could still capture his signature snark in. (For the purposes of this, I made up a Governor that would fit the story so if there was one discussed in the show, they aren’t in this one.) I also wrote this in two days so… bare with me.

If you hadn’t been in the presence of the President, you might have thrown something at him.

“If the President addresses this now, the Republicans will stop at nothing to get back at him for it.” He spoke in that smug, know-it-all tone that drove you insane.

“This is about real people, Mr. Lyman, not the little politics games that you play all day.”

“Okay, everyone, I think that’s enough.” The President’s order may have halted your argument, but you could still feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you stared Josh down. The rest of the team made a very quick exit, hoping to avoid becoming casualties in you and Josh’s on-going battle. But when the two of you started for the door, President Bartlet’s voice called you back. “Not. You. Two.”

You grimaced and turned back around, reveling a little in the fact that Josh looked just as uncomfortable as you did. One stern look from Jed Bartlet, however, was enough to diminish that.

“Is it physically impossible for the two of you to let me get through one meeting without going at each other’s throats?” He urged, his irritated gaze switching rapidly between the both of you. “Not only are you both a part of this team, you are adults for Christ sake!”

“Sorry, sir.” You gulped.

“My apologies, Mr. President.”

God, even apologizing, he had to try and sound smarter than you.

“I’m not finished yet.” The President walked around his desk and grabbed an envelope from under a pile of other papers. “The Governor of New Hampshire is hosting a ball on Saturday to celebrate something that I can’t even remember. Frankly, I think it’s because his wife enjoys parties a little too much, but who am I to judge?”

You and Josh exchanged a look that consisted more of confusion than anger.

Bartlet continued, “Well, seeing as I used to be Governor of my home state, he’s been kind enough to invite me, though I also think this is more of a way to get more Democratic backing for his next election. Nevertheless, while I am unable to attend due to this whole mess with possible terrorism, I know just the two members of my senior staff to send in my place.” He looked pointedly at both of you.

The excuses tumbled over each other as you and Josh blurted them out, desperately pleading to find something that would change his mind. You hated political gatherings in general but the idea of being forced to go with Josh? It twisted your stomach into so many knots you thought you’d throw up.

“There’s going to be political fallout from all of this and I should really be around-”

“C.J. and Toby are going to need me to-”

“Y/N could go by herself.” Josh said suddenly, making your jaw drop. That little snake. “I’m sure there are plenty of young men that’ll be thrilled to see you.”

“Says one of the White House’s most eligible bachelors.” You fired back, forgetting who you were standing in front of.

“Enough!” The President slammed the invitation down on the desk in front of the two of you. “This isn’t about who is more desirable than who. This is about you two learning how to work as a team and not biting each other’s heads off every time you’re in the same room together! Now, I am calling Governor Thompson and telling him you’re going and the two of you are going to be the picture of grace and maturity. If I hear one word of anything else, so help me god, your careers will be so buried, it’ll take years before they see the light of day.” His voice echoed through the Oval Office, rattling you down to the bone. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

“Good. Now go do whatever you need to to free up next Saturday.” He sat down, putting on his glasses to look over other documents. “Oh, and find something nice to wear. Mrs. Thompson has always been a bit of a stickler with the dress code.”

With that, you were dismissed and you felt the dread settling in your chest. You were going to a ball. In New Hampshire. With Josh Lyman for a date. As you shouldered out the door together, you cast glowering looks.

“I hate you.”

“I hate you more.”

If the snickers from Sam and C.J. weren’t enough to drive you crazy in the week leading up to your flight, scrambling to find a dress was not something you originally had on your schedule. Even when you had found one you liked, there was the matter of rescheduling everything you had the weekend you would be gone.

At least Josh seemed to be having as difficult a time as you were. Any time you saw him in passing, he looked frantic and disheveled- which would usually bring you a small amount of joy, but for some reason, knowing you were in the same boat actually made you feel better about going with him.

“Hey.”

You looked up from the piles of work from your desk, surprised to see your unfortunate date standing in your doorway. It was the day before you were set to leave and you both had mountains of work to try and finish.

“What can I help you with, Josh?”

“I just came to say that this might not be such a bad idea.” He moved from the door to the chair, but he didn’t sit down. He just stood anxiously behind it, leaning on the back. He actually looked sincere- and a voice in the back of your head pointed out that, without his usual cloud of arrogance that always hung around him, he was actually very attractive.

No. Definitely not. You hated him.

“Which part? Going to a ridiculous dance so that Governor Thompson can get more clout with Democrats or the fact that we have to go as a bonding exercise?” Your tone was cold, even more so than usual. Call it overcorrecting for your brain’s traitorous thoughts.

“I think the President is right.” Josh’s posture changed, standing up a little straighter as his tone grew defensive. “If this is what it takes to get us to work together, then I guess we deserve it.”

“Funny, since when he first proposed the idea you suggested that I go alone.” You stood up, crossing your arms.

Josh mimicked your stance, his brow furrowing with anger. “Look, I came in here to make some kind of peace with you, and I don’t understand-”

“I know what you came here to do, Josh. You want to show me that I don’t understand Bartlet the way you do while you play some kind of martyr for going on this trip.” You leaned forward with your hands on your desk and he did the same. Your faces must have only been a few inches apart.

“Fine!”

You’d never wanted to kiss Josh Lyman more than you did in that moment and couldn’t hate him more for it.

Your seats on the plane were right next to each other. Because of course, they were. Josh got the window seat despite your protests, sticking you in the middle between him and a rather obnoxious businessman who was speaking loudly on his phone.

“Sir, I need you to turn that off as we prepare to take off.” The flight attendant instructed.

“Yeah, just give me a second.”

“Now, sir.” Her voice was a semi-irritated monotone that left little room for any argument. The man gave her an annoyed look and ended his call. “Thank you, sir.” She continued down the aisle to berate somebody else. Without the distraction of work, he sought out a new way to pass the time- you.

“What takes you to Concord?” He leaned a little closer to you than you would have preferred, but leaning back would basically put you in Josh’s lap so you stayed put.

“My coworker and I have an event to attend.” You motioned to the seemingly oblivious man on the other side of you.

“Just coworker?” His casual expression turned into a suggestive smirk and you felt his fingers run up your knee. You jerked away from him.

“Husband, actually, so how about you keep your hands to yourself?” Josh snapped suddenly, giving Mr. Handsy a death glare. You stared at Josh with wide eyes and forced your mouth shut to keep it from gaping in shock. The man beside you must have been as surprised as you because words came out as a whispered stutter.

“Sorry, I didn’t- she said- and I thought-”

“Yeah, well you thought wrong.” He stood up. “Here, honey, why don’t you take the window seat?”

You sat there, without moving, for a few seconds before he nudged your leg with his foot and you climbed over him to get to the seat by the window. Once you were both situated, the other man got suddenly very interested in the papers from his briefcase.

You leaned over and whispered in Josh’s ear. “Honey? Really?”

“Don’t start.” Though his voice sounded irritated, there was almost a small smile playing at his lips. You shifted awkwardly, trying to keep a smirk from your own lips.

“You really didn’t have to do that.”

“Do you want the window seat or not?” Now his smile had grown into a snicker, making you laugh lightly.

“Who would have thought you were such a gentleman?”

“Well, I’m a married man now, apparently.” He teased. You rolled your eyes.

“In your dreams, Lyman.”

After an hour of shaking hands and dancing with the Governor’s persistent son, you were ready to knock your head against the wall until you passed out. Oddly enough, you had yet to see Josh. Mrs. Thompson invited you to come early for tea so you hadn’t arrived together. You were beginning to think he’d bailed when you saw him across the room.

Pushing your way over to him, his eyes widened when he finally saw you.

“You look amazing.” He gasped, his eyes scanning your silky blue dress before settling on your eyes. “I mean… wow.”

You felt blush tint your cheeks as a smile spread across your lips. He cleaned up pretty well himself and you found yourself checking him out for what you wished you could say was the first time ever. What could you say? The man looked good in suits.

You must have stood there, staring at each other, for a few minutes before Ned Thompson came into view. Without a second to think, you grabbed Josh’s hand.

“Dance with me.”

“What?”

“Just do it.” You yanked him with you onto the dance floor, losing sight of the Governor’s persistent son.

Josh looked around, trying to see who you seemed so desperate to avoid as the two of you began to sway to the music. “What was that about?”

You checked one more time to make sure the coast was clear. “Ned.”

“The Governor’s kid?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t he, like, ten years younger than you.”

“He’s only eight, but yes.” You rolled your eyes, annoyed by his pestering. On the bright side, he was a pretty good dancer. “If I dance with him one more time, I think he’ll propose.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Just tell him you’re married to me.” Josh smirked. “Worked the last time.” You both chuckled and continued dancing. For a while, you forgot why you were here to begin with. You were enjoying yourself more than you cared to admit. In a room full of people, the only one you wanted to dance with was the man you loved to hate.

Maybe it was the other way around.

You sat up in bed, sipping coffee and reading the paper while the sound of the hotel’s heater droned on. The fluffy white robe enveloped your body perfectly, but the real warmth came from the sleeping form beside you as he turned over, swinging his arm so it was around your waist and pulling you closer to him. You smiled in both amusement and complete bewilderment as to how you got here.

“I don’t think this is what the President meant by ‘teamwork’.” You noted, folding up the paper and setting it aside.

Josh peeked up at you, half his face still smooshed against the pillow.

“Goodmorning.” He greeted groggily, rubbing his eyes as he slowly sat up.

“I made you coffee.” You handed him the little Styrofoam cup and waited until he’d had enough to wake up a little more. “What are we supposed to tell him when he asks how everything went?”

He thought for a moment. “You know, we didn’t fight at all last night.” He was right. Between the ball and, well, everything after that, not a single argument was had.

You shrugged and held out your cup of coffee for a cheers. “To teamwork,” Josh smirked and tapped his cup against yours.

“To teamwork.”

#josh lyman x reader #the west wing #bradley whitford #jed bartlet #the west wing imagines #josh lyman #c.j. cregg #sam seaborn #joshua lemon lyman

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tarithenurse · 3 years

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Spark - 21

Fandom: Enn Enn no Shouboutai / Fire Force. Pairing: Shinmon Benimaru x fem!reader. Content: Angst, death, loads of bad things including lack of proofing. A/N: I know I should feel bad for this, but I don’t. Feel free to ASK (or reblog) for tag – in fact: always reblog. Thanks to those who have already <3

21. Ignite

... Reader ...

You’re not sure what you had expected and still you’re taken by surprise at the devastation a single insect causes.

Spreading from the impact spot on the girl’s chest, flames spring up and engulf the small figure, making the skin crackle and clothes melt. The worst part is the scream: the high pitched wail has turned into whimpers but even that is changing as you watch in horror. It’s becoming guttural. Gravelly.

“What a shame,” Giovanni’s voice tuts from somewhere behind you, “I always hope it’s the one. Always wish for the spark.”

Always...how many? “You’re insane.”

“It’s science,” he dismisses you.

Flesh seethes and bubbles, the stench quickly filling the room together with the heat of the flames, and you know it won’t be long now. When an infernal is fully formed (their previous life reduced to charcoal and blackened bones) the hunger sets in. Already, the girl’s shape is falling into the posture of a mad and starving animal trying to smell out its prey...and you’re first in line.

“Let me go.” You hate the tremor in your voice as you try to appeal to Giovanni’s kinder side. Does he have any? “Let my hands free at least!”

Eye sockets filled with fire zero in on your struggling shape and a wicked grin splits the blackened skull. Here she comes. The infernal’s first words are barely audible above the roaring flames, but you know what they are anyways because they always are the same – infernals are hungry for souls, for craving the heat of fire while still hating the pain as the last of their consciousness roasts forever.

You know, she can’t burn you. Compared to anyone else who might have been in this situation, you’re actually kind of safe...or you would have been if the fact that the flames won’t touch you is exactly what has gotten you into this mess in the first place. That and the fact that I can’t shut up and keep my head down, you berate yourself.

A skeletal hand reaches out, and you instantly recoil. “No! Don’t touch me!” It pauses as if considering your words and the fear powers you on. “The one behind me, take him...please. Not me, take him instead.“ Tears barely make it onto your cheeks before they evaporate from the blazing heat and you can’t keep your eyes open any longer as it prickles and burns. “Don’t touch me...”

The light shifts together with the scorching air, passing beside you and leaving the front of your body suddenly shivering at the change in temperature.

“Interesting,” the mad doctor comments.

There’s a muted crunch, then the flickering light dies together with the last of an innocent girl.

... Benimaru ...

Dark and damp, the Nether seems to exist in a different world altogether. The sounds of rats scurrying out of the way can be heard sometimes, but mostly it’s just the footsteps of the two men making their way along tracks that haven’t seen activity for centuries, maybe.

Once, they’d gotten to an area where stairs led upwards only to be blocked by rubble. Another time, they’d to edge past an abandoned vehicle, the stretched shape askew on the rails and the seats behind the dusty windows offering room for nothing but shadows and a hint of the old world.

That was hours ago.

“You don’t know where we’re going,” Benimaru drawls, “do you?”

Joker shuffles an unlit cigarette to the other corner of the mouth. “Never said I knew exactly where she’d be.”

On and on the walk, none of them saying much except when the path diverges and they must choose a direction. The captain hates it. Sure, Konro often tries to teach him to think first and act later, but there is nothing to consider here except making sure to be able to find the way out again – a task that’s ensured by stacking rubble every 200 meter.

Maybe we should’ve taken the left back there? It’s easy to second-guess everything down here where the cold slowly tries to seep into their bones. Benimaru doesn’t care about the subterranean climate: as long as he hasn’t reached his goal, nothing else matters. It appears Joker is of the same opinion. What does he want from her?

“Wait...” the man in questions pauses, slowly picking the cigarette from between the lips, “do you feel that?”

Benimaru has already figured out that his “friend’s” senses are sharp despite the dopey mannerisms, so he stops as well and tries to sharpen his senses. The thick soles of his boots doesn’t allow him to feel if there are vibrations, but not even the lightest pebbles shift in their spots – only a cobweb waves silently from the broken sign hanging above them. It’s moved by the faintest of breezes that also caresses Benimaru’s cheeks with a hint of warmth as it blows past, carrying the scent of dust and mould.

Wait. ”Warm air,” he gasps.

Whatever is causing it, it’s worth checking out and the men continue into the darkness.

... Reader ...

“Please...please do-do-don’t!” Your heart is beating loudly in your ears but it’s not enough to drown out the clicking noises of the beetle. “You c-can’t...please!”

But you know Giovanni not only can but also will because he’s got the beetle gripped with a pair of elongated tweezers and is steadily coming closer. He’s drawing it out, though, revelling in the panic you can’t hold back any longer as it begins to black out everything else.

“You should be proud,” his voice comes from far away, “the scientific importance of this is unparalleled! And the honour! If this works...it means you’ve been chosen to usher in the Second Cataclysm.”

“No...I don’t want...no, please don-”

You’re startled by the searing sensation as the insect lands on you and burns through the cloth of the jumpsuit. So this is how it feels. Flames have never caused you pain before and for a second, you can only think of this searing as if it’s freezing your skin, but as embers spread beneath your skin and smoke rises...Now I know what it’s like to burn.

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jjpmoans · 4 years

Text

t’aimer sans cesse

↦ song: Hesitate from Eyes On You

↦ lyrics: 'Yes, you, why are you making me this confused?/ I don't get you any more'

↦ word count : 9k+

↦ genre : roommates to lovers

↦ warnings : fluffs, angst if you squint really hard

↦ summary : Park Jinyoung. You. Jeong Jaehyun. As complicated as it seems, you’d be honest when you said, you didn’t expect to be involved in this whole love triangle. Have you been missing signals or have he been sending you absolutely invisible signals? Is your radar broken? How have you not know? How have you been so dense? How long have you been foolishly hurting him?

↦ a/n : Hey everyone! I’m back with a new fic! I’m soo sorry it’s been a drought here on my blog. But i’m back and looks like Mr Jeong is joining us this time~ Anyways, this fic is written for the GOT7 Alive Fest on twitter and if anyone is interested, go check it out on @/GOT7_Alive_2020. They have both artists and writers joining the fest! Most of them post on ao3 and I am probably the only one who post on tumblr. Nevermind that, I hope you love the fic! Thank you for reading!

Morning classes are by far, the most hated part of your schedule. You don’t like waking up early, which explains why you’re not a morning person. You don’t remember when was the last time you met the morning birds and the sunrise since you usually wake up after ten in the morning and the sun is already up. You missed the chirping and the first ray of the morning but you’d trade anything for sleep at the moment.

“Jinyoung.” you groan when you feel a finger poking your cheek and pinching it. You know it’s him, who else is patient to wake you up? Bambam and Yugyeom have long given up trying to wake you since you refused all their advances, even coaxing you with food. “I don’t want to wake up.”

You heard a few rustling and you exhaled in relief. Perhaps Jinyoung will let you off the hook and let you sleep this once. You don’t have that many morning classes, to be honest. You only have one, and that’s on every Tuesday. Usually you wake up and sign the attendance then go back to sleep since you had online learning for this semester, but since the situation has toned down and the university has reopened, today marks the first day of on-site class.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” you hear his voice and a few seconds later, you feel your face getting wet and his palm softly applying cold water all over your face. Another dip into the basin and he returns his palm to your face with another round of wiping the cold water all over your face which he carefully presses it on your eyelids. “Wake up. You have class at nine.”

You grumble, turning away from him to continue sleeping but at this moment, you’re almost wide awake after he technically washes your face for you. You can hear Jinyoung chuckling and you’re positive now that he has successfully woken you up. “Urgh. I hate how you wake me up easily.”

“Not my fault that I’m an expert.” he laughs upon seeing you getting out of his bed and into the bathroom. “Hurry up. I’m taking you to breakfast.”

“For what?” you appear again with your toothbrush inside your mouth.

“To eat, you dummy. Your class ends at eleven and you’d be starving by then.” he picks a book out of your shared bookshelf, flipping it to the page he left before. “Hurry up! I’m giving you ten minutes!”

You stare in disbelief at him and when he sees you’re unmoved, he throws you one of your small pillows to get you moving. “Tik tok, y/n! Move fast!”

“I can’t believe you shove me into the bathroom.” you frown when Jinyoung just laugh at your complaint. He indeed shoved you into the shower after you’ve been standing for too long while brushing your teeth. “We aren’t even late!”

“You’ll thank me later.” Jinyoung grins, walking into the busy cafe. People are getting their first coffee supply of the day and so do you. Jinyoung and you are both coffee people, it just made sense to start the day with a cup of iced Americano.

As usual, Jinyoung will queue up so you can find a seat for both of you while waiting. It’s easy to catch a spot in the cafe during the morning since most people pack to-go breakfast. So you carefully choose a table for two, a bit far from the counter and hidden from the excessive sun exposure but still be able to see people entering the cafe.

It’s just an unconscious habit of yours, to watch whoever that passes through the door. It’s just amusing to you how most people fall into the same time schedule, about fifty people probably have the same class to attend and twenty seven of them need coffee before class.

“Here.” a tray of drinks and food appears before you, you make space for Jinyoung to place the drinks out of the tray and put the tray away. It’s so obvious which one of the food is yours and which one is Jinyoung’s. He prefers to have croissants for breakfast while you prefer egg sandwiches since you’ll be fuller and can last until lunch time. “Saw anyone you know?”

You shake your head before taking a big bite of your sandwich, munching them happily. The man before you just laugh at your behaviour, fifteen minutes ago you were wrestling with him to get into the shower and now you’re just behaving like a child, eating her breakfast with joy.

He sees the corner of your lips smudged with the mayo and his heart skips a beat, wondering how can you be so adorable being so messy. He can’t stand someone munching loudly but here he is, watching the corner of your lips moving and the sauce is still there. So he extends his hand, wiping your lips and retracts to lick his thumb back, before going back to eat his own croissant.

You didn’t mind, it’s not actually out of the ordinary. Jinyoung smiles, knowing how comfortable you are with him. Sometimes he wishes you don’t, because right now he just wanted to let you know how badly he’s in love with you.

But of course he can’t. As best friends, he can’t. His feelings aren’t worth the awkward encounters or the cold treatment you’ll be giving him once you learn that he’s in love with you.

“Alright so for the assignment partners,” your professor announces, indicating the class is ending in ten minutes. During the quarantine, he has decided that all assignments will be graded individually since the quarantine was expected to run longer. However with the on-site classes coming to life again, he wanted to make the last assignment graded in partners, so that he can actually provide better materials for the lecturers audit session.

You heard your name being called and you swear your breath hitches when another name follows yours, loud and clear. “Jeong Jaehyun.”

“Oh my god.” your friend next to you gasps, utterly speechless at revelation of your partner. You as well, are shocked and completely blank out. “Oh my god. You got the golden boy.”

“Oh my god.” repeating the phrase over and over again, your friend taps you multiple times and you feel your throat dried. One of the reasons why she’s so excited is because you’ve developed a crush towards the golden boy from the start of the semester and she knows. She, who goes by the name Mina, is your only friend from the same course. However it was short lived since you only got three classes with him and the quarantine started. Either way, you’ve completely forgotten about your crush until he was brought up again,

You took Mathematics as an elective just because you thought it was fun and you wanted to try it. Jinyoung couldn’t make it, Psychology students are always packed and you, as the Language student, have too much time to spare.

“Mina. this is insane.” you are having a minor breakdown and Mina isn’t helping, squealing when she sees Jaehyun walking over towards your seat, nudging you not so subtly. “My lord, don’t nudge me like that-”

He stops in front of you and for a second you forget how to breathe, extremely mesmerized by his presence. Here’s why he’s the golden boy.

You knew from a classmate that he comes from the Engineering faculty, taking Mathematics as one of his complementary subjects in order to fulfill his credit hours requirement for this semester. It’s a given that he excels in mathematics as he’s an engineering student but his other achievements make him even more dreamy and absolutely golden.

Jaehyun is also very popular in sports, he’s one of the baseball club players, the one and only sport club that is making names for your university. It doesn’t need you to attend their matches to know how well he’s been playing. His fame makes up for it. They have been winning almost every match and well, he contributes about two third of the scores. Above all of that, he’s apparently a member of NCT frat, where every single member is magnificently handsome, carved and painted by god himself.

In short, he’s the standard boyfriend you’ll never get.

“Uhm.” okay he has a bit of a flaw — no, not a flaw. Despite how famous he is, he’s apparently an introvert. He gets shy quite easily, more reasons to like him. The tip of his ears will be red if he feels nervous or shy and you don’t know what is cuter than that. “Hey.”

You forgot how to talk just by looking at him. Never would you have thought you’d be able to talk to him, well given the situation and his social status, you have no doubt you’re out of his circle. It’s only when Mina secretly pinches your thigh that you manage to find your voice, clearing your throat to reply to him. “Hi. Sorry, I’ve been so rude. I’m y/n.”

He offers you a smile. Jeong Jaehyun offers you a smile. You can finally die in peace. “I know. I’ve heard a lot of things about you.”

Oh. What is this? How does he know about you? Scratch that, why would he know anything about you?

“Wha- what? Excuse me?”

He chuckles and Mina’s gasp is completely audible to your ears now, you have no idea if Jaehyun catches that. But you know he does, after all his ears won’t lie to him. “I know you. You’re Jinyoung’s girlfriend.”

Even nothing comes out from Mina, you know she’s laughing. Of course, your reputation is affiliated with Jinyoung. There isn’t any person on the campus who doesn’t know about you and Jinyoung. To say you’re Jinyoung’s best friend is absolutely underrated, so they upgraded your status to Jinyoung’s girlfriend. You’re so close to Jinyoung that it made a lot of his fangirls mad. Why? Because just like Jaehyun, Jinyoung is a member of a frat.

GOT frat specifically.

Things got complicated and you got his fangirls harassing you to the extent of harming you in your own house during your first semester. After much consideration, Jinyoung figured that it is safer for you to stay with him instead. No one will be able to harm you in a frat house, mainly because he is there but also, his members are very protective of you too.

Hence he got Jaebeom to go to the administration and arranged your residency exchange. You have no idea how Jaebeom managed to convince them since no girls are allowed to reside in an all boys frat. However he powered through and the news spread as fast as they could, making you officially Jinyoung’s girlfriend and off market.

“Lord, not this again.” you mutter quietly but goodness gracious of course he heard it. Jaehyun’s laughter resonates again and this time you decided to just fuck it. “Firstly no, I’m not Jinyoung’s girlfriend. I’m his best friend and I have no idea why people keep saying I’m his girlfriend.”

“Maybe because you act like a couple?” Jaehyun offers his thoughts. Probably it’s true, Jinyoung has a soft spot for you. Maybe because he feels sorry for what you’ve been through, however you don’t mind. You love when Jinyoung is being protective of you. It reminds you of how much he cared for you.

“Yeah. Nevermind that. Do you want to talk about the assignment?” you hate to ruin the moment but you figured he needed to go somewhere and you’re already holding him back. If you want to chit chat, you can do it when you meet for the assignment.

“Oh yes.” he quickly whips out his phone and scans the task given, quickly sliding his phone to your direction. “Okay so I’ve done question no 1 and just need you to look over them in case I did them wrong-”

He- what? He already did the assignment? Screw it, you’re in love with him already.

“So we just need to work on the second question.” he finishes his sentence and looks up to you, flashing his dimples away. Ah right, his deep dimples are exactly the reason why you’ve taken a liking in him. Whenever you have online classes, a strand of his luscious brown hair will naturally parted away from the others, his dimples showing up occasionally when he’s solving questions. Out of every single window on the screen, you’ve been intently watching his window, mesmerized by his good looking face. “I guess we can set the time and place for us to work on this?”

You unconsciously nod, before quickly snapping out of your thoughts. “Yeah, I’m actually fine anywhere. I’ll check my schedules and we can try to set any time for it?”

Jaehyun hums, hesitated before asking, “Will you be comfortable if we do it at my place?”

Another quiet squeal makes you roll your eyes, at this point Mina isn’t trying to be subtle anymore. Jaehyun has been laughing whenever she lets out any kind of noises, which embarrass you even more. “Wait- you mean NCT frat!?”

You can’t believe she just asked that.

“Wow, y/n. Spare me some of your luck, please.” she tugs on your arms to which you shrug her off easily.

“Shut up.” you tell her before catching Jaehyun’s attention again. “I’m okay with NCT frat. I’ll text you before I come over?”

“Yeah,” he replies distractedly when his phone shows an incoming voice call, seeming important since he freaks out, whipping his head to the door. “Sorry, the boys are having some meeting and I need to go now.”

He hands you his phone, his dial pad showing up. “Put your number in. I’ll text you.”

If someone ever tells you that Jeong Jaehyun will offer his phone to get your number, even for an assignment, you’d definitely assume that they’re insane and tell them to stop giving you false hope. But now you’re filling your phone number in Jeong Jaehyun’s phone and it feels more like a dream than a reality.

Only when he’s out of the lecture hall that you’re able to breathe, accompanied by Mina’s never ending teasing. Lord, why are you being extra kind today?

Unknown Hey it’s Jaehyun :)

You almost drop your phone before making unrealistic noises, your heart jumping in joy. You don’t wish to disturb Jinyoung who’s studying at his table but this calls for celebration.

“Oh my god!” you decided to let it loose and quickly dance in the middle of your room out of giddiness. Jeong Jaehyun has officially texted you and he’s waiting for you to reply. “Oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh!!”

Jinyoung stares at your dancing figure with an eyebrow raised, his pen in between his teeth. To say that your sudden dance abnormal is an understatement, he’s been watching you do even crazier and dumber things in the middle of the night during examination weeks but that’s out of stress. So he lets you cool down – not really since you’re still grinning while holding your phone. Definitely, something is wrong.

“Wait how do I reply-” you fumble with your keyboard, thinking of a proper sentence. It’s been three minutes since his text and it’s the perfect time to reply back. You have to act like you didn’t wait for him to reply.

Y/n Hi! Yeap, y/n here.

What do you say more? Did the meeting go well?

You contemplate writing another sentence when his reply comes in, startling you in the process.

Unknown Have you checked your schedule? What day are you free?

Y/n I did and I am free on monday and wednesday afternoon, then friday evening. Hbu?

Unknown Oh crap. I’m only free on wednesday evening

Golden boy curses too? Oohh, hot.

Y/n Uh… I don’t mind doing it on the weekend? If you don’t have practise or anything.

Unknown Unfortunately [Sticker] I have baseball practice in the morning. But

Y/n But what

Unknown Can we make it at night? We can do the assignment in the next two weeks. I have an upcoming submission and I’m fully booked this weekend. I’m sorry I promise you I’ll provide you snacks.

Y/n What am I? Five years old? [Sticker] I don’t mind. The due date is still far away.

Unknown Oh so you don’t want snacks?

Y/n Shut up. Give me McDonalds.

Unknown Deal. A princess will get what princess wants.

Your heart skips a beat. He calls you princess? From the first text? This sounds like a frat boy attitude. For a moment you laugh at yourself, of course he is. He’s technically a frat boy.

“Okay you’re creeping me out.” Jinyoung finally stands up from his study table and proceeds to sit on his bed. Your study table is next to his bed while his study table is at the foot of his bed. “You’ve been smiling creepily while texting. Who’re you texting with?”

You quickly reply to Jaehyun with a sticker and lock your phone, facing Jinyoung who’s still confused about what’s going on. You can’t handle this alone and you need to tell Jinyoung. If anything, Jinyoung is the first person that shall know.

“You know Jeong Jaehyun?”

He gives you an incredulous look, of course, who doesn’t know Jeong Jaehyun? One must be blind and deaf if they don’t know the golden boy. “Really? You’re asking me this now?”

You dismiss him immediately, moving to sit next to him on his bed. “He texted me.”

“He texted you?”

“Yes!” you almost screamed at him but hold back and throw yourself on his pillow, kicking the air. “We got partnered for an assignment and he texted me!”

Jinyoung is absolutely clueless because he stares at you again, confused. “So? Why are you so happy about it?”

“Oh god Jinyoung! You don’t understand!”

“Then tell me! And for god sake stop kicking already!”

You sit back up and watch Jinyoung carefully, before explaining, “Jinyoung. A handsome boy, from NCT frat texted me. And he’s not just any NCT member, he’s the golden boy. The standard boyfriend-you’ll-never-have. The Jeong Jaehyun.”

“And he texted me. And he calls me princess!” You watch Jinyoung’s face contorted with disgust and you push him away roughly. He would never understand. He’s not having a crush on Jaehyun.

“So what? I can call you princess too. What’s so special?” Jinyoung has now moved higher on the bed and his hands are crossed. This is why you need a girl best friend. When you have a boy best friend they are so dumb and they can’t understand this joy.

“Oh god. Because he’s so dreamy and I got a crush on him!” you lunge towards Jinyoung and shake him, forcing the information to sink inside his brain. “My crush just called me princess, can you believe it!!???”

“You have a crush on Jaehyun?”

“Urgh. You’re so slow.” you get up and reach for the door, yanking it open. “I’m going to Jackson. He’ll be more enthusiastic to listen to my story than you.”

You close the door and leave Jinyoung alone, stoned and unmoved on his bed.

You didn’t realise it but the previous sentence left Jinyoung speechless, sending him into a shock.

You like Jeong Jaehyun? Oh shit. Jinyoung is in a deep deep shit.

“Hi.” the door opens, revealing Johnny who looks like he’s been expecting you for a while.

“Oh! Y/n!” he screams, well not screaming but definitely a higher octave than usual conversation tone. “Come in! Jaehyun told us that you’re coming over.”

Like you have agreed, Jaehyun invites you to come over two weeks after You enter the house, a fresh smell greeting you softly. The layout of the frat is just like yours, except that it is bigger, well to accommodate 21 people in one house. There’s only a few minor differences from your house, like how the kitchen and the living room looks extremely bigger.

You spot someone at the kitchen and you nod timidly, showing your respect in someone’s house. Lord, you feel overwhelmed.

“Who’s at the door- oh!” a high pitched tone yell from the fridge and you see Lucas hugging a jar of milk, probably taking it out. “Jaehyun hyung! Your pretty partner is here!”

You blush at the nickname, quickly trail behind Johnny who offers to send you to Jaehyun’s room. You agree, you can’t possibly manage to find his room by yourself. Actually, you take your words back. This house has a different layout than GOT’s frat, definitely you won’t trust yourself around here. One mistake and you’d probably end up in a room with at least three naked men.

“I have no idea why you’d yell, Lucas.” Johnny comments, ascending the stairs. “Jaehyun can’t even hear you.”

“I know. I just want to call her pretty.”

“Oh god.” your face reddens when Lucas continues to tease you that by the time you reach Jaehyun’s room, you’re as bright as a tomato.

“Heyyy you’re here- wow what happened? Why are you so red?” as soon as he opens his door, Jaehyun bends over to see your reddening face, scanning for any suspicious injury. Johnny however, starts laughing and he’s lucky you just met him today or else you’d already jab him with your fist. “Come one, Johnny. Who did this to her?”

“Lucas that kid. He’s teasing her all the way up the stairs.”

“Oh.” Jaehyun laughs as well, beckoning you to enter his room. “Shut that one up for me.”

“Aite, golden boy.”

You manage to tone down your redness after fanning it while watching Jaehyun’s minimally decorated room, all in black and white, three beds lining up next to each other, the study table at one corner and their closet at the other end. It’s a big room and with three people living in it, it still has spaces to work on the floor.

“Sorry if you find it messy.” Jaehyun rubs the back of his head sheepishly when you seated yourself on the floor, in front of the folding table that he has prepared. “I forced Jungwoo and Jeno to clean the room since you’re coming over.”

“So if you find anything suspicious, just ignore them okay?” you chuckle at his choice of words, as if you’d probably find something. The whole room looks clean, or so how it looks. You doubt you can find anything.

“I’m serious. I always find questionable things and you don’t want to know what they are.”

“Oh.” now that is something you didn’t think of. You know how they always hold parties and a lot of people come over, but you definitely didn’t think of that. “Okay now I’m afraid to move.”

Jaehyun lets out a hearty laugh, seating himself next to you comfortably. “Don’t worry. Nothing can harm you here.”

“Knock knock!” instead of knocking, Haechan chooses to enunciate the sound and in a split second he opens the door, posing at the door frame. “The delivery man is here and I’m not rich to pay for it.”

Jaehyun sighs as he pulls out his wallet, throwing it to Haechan. “Swipe it.”

You turn to Jaehyun, halting in your calculation. “Did you really order McDonalds?”

“I promised you.” he says softly, looking back at his own paper. “What my princess wants is what my princess gets.”

You swear the air suddenly gets hotter and Jaehyun turns super flirty since his first text. You kept texting back and forth, the awkward texts have long forgotten, now it’s always him asking you about your day and sending memes he found on the internet.

“Are we flirting now?”

“Depends on how you define flirt.” he smiles and that damn dimples show up again, impossible making you even more giddy. “I’d say, I’m being me.”

“This is how you are?” you look at him up and down, giving him a disapproving look. “Do you flirt with every girl you meet?”

Jaehyun comes closer to you, looking at you straight in the eye. “I’ll have you know one thing.”

“I never bring any girl into the frat. Not even hookups.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t do hookups.”

“But I’m just an assignment partner.”

“Definitely not for me.”

You later learnt that Jaehyun has ordered every single meal on the menu because he doesn’t know what you like. You almost got tricked when you came downstairs and saw the food untouched when all the boys were practically circling the dining table but no one touched anything. It’s only after you picked your burger, fries and drink together with Jaehyun’s food that Haechan sprinted towards the table and started the food war with others.

“You just have to ask me, you know.” you tell him while he walks you home, smiling sheepishly while getting scolded. “You wasted a lot on the meals.”

“It’s not wasting.” he defends himself. “I let everyone eat the remaining. It’s not wasting.”

“Yeah, that’s one thing.”

The walk home is silent, a comforting silent. His house and yours is just a few houses apart but he still insists on sending you home. It feels so short because just in five minutes, you fall in step in front of your house. Tonight, you experience something new. You experience another set of happiness, surrounded by Jaehyun and his friends.

It’s different from being with Jinyoung and the boys, it just feels like it. With GOT frat, you feel like home while with NCT frat, you feel exhilarated.

“Hey.” you hear Jaehyun calls, making you turn to him. “I want to let you know that I enjoy talking to you.”

Your features soften, of course, you like talking to him too. “Same here, Jaehyun.”

He grins, walking backwards. “Talk to you later!”

“Good night pretty girl!” you shush him when he shouts a bit too loud. He laughs, running to his house while screaming the same sentence, absolutely madness. You love talking to him, perhaps a bit more than he does.

“Jinyoung.” he calls, trying to shake the said male into reality. However he gives no response, staring into space making Jaebeom sigh in frustration. “Stop making that face. It’s obvious enough that you’re jealous.”

“What face?” Jinyoung glares, putting his Americano cup down and exhales shakily. He knows what kind of face Jaebeom was referring to. His annoyed face. “I am not jealous.”

“Oh really? Geez, I would never know,” Jaebeom rolls his eyes sarcastically. If looks can slice, Jaehyun must have been slaughtered by the Jinyoung’s total concentration water breathing form and poof! He’d be a verified demon slayer.

“Shut up.” It’s been an hour and you are still there, sitting at the table by the window, talking to Jaehyun. He has been eyeing you since you entered the cafe and was about to call for you but realised that a certain male has followed you after, seating both of you further from people. He’s not mad, no. He’s a tad bit sad. He doesn’t like this unsettling feeling and it hurts even more when he sees Jaehyun’s concentrated eyes gazing on you.

He knows that gaze. That’s just how he looks at you.

Ever since you first told him that Jaehyun texted you, something has changed. You start spending less and less time with him and more time with Jaehyun. You start waking early and rush downstairs, just to go on a morning walk with Jaehyun. At night when it’s supposed to be your time with Jinyoung, you’d spend it talking to Jaehyun, if not texting all night.

You haven’t realised it but Jinyoung is extremely jealous.

He never had you that enthusiastic with him. You’re always you, nothing special you’d change just for Jinyoung. And the thought of it makes him sad, sad that he’s actually just a friend.

“I think you should tell her, you know.” Jaebeom starts. Ever since you revealed that you had a crush on Jaehyun, Jinyoung has been constantly broken. It’s like you pressed a switch inside his brain and he malfunctioned himself. It’s rare to see Jinyoung acting out of character but this is what love does to people. It made you go insane. “What’s the point of torturing yourself watching the woman you love talking to another handsome man with heart shooting out of her eyes?”

“So you agree he’s handsome?”

“Jinyoung.” Jaebeom shakes his head exaggeratedly. “It’s Jeong Jaehyun we’re talking about. We all know that NCT house has some magic shit going around because every single member from that frat is drop dead hot and handsome. Now don’t avoid this. Tell her before it’s too late.”

Jinyoung has officially gone blank. He wanted to tell her, he really does. Jinyoung can’t count those nights where he has drawn a perfect plan in his mind, watching you sleep while mouthing unsaid words to you. He really wanted to tell you that he loves you. He had been in love with you for so long, he has forgotten when exactly he harboured his feelings for you. All he knows, one day he woke up and he felt his heart threatened to burst at the sight of you.

However every single plan has its flaws and Jinyoung’s plan involves throwing your friendship into the mix. If only he’s not afraid to risk your friendship, he would have tried his damn luck. He would have confessed and he wouldn’t give any damn whether you’d be awkward or not. Things will be easier if he has no attachment. Yet, this attachment is the thinnest line he wouldn’t dare to cross.

“I can’t, Beom-ah.” he sounds helpless, the most helpless Jaebeom ever heard and they are childhood friends. He knew Jinyoung since they were eleven and nothing, nothing ever broke Jinyoung this bad. Jinyoung is never a quitter but this time, Jaebeom sees him quitting. “I can’t risk our friendship, Jaebeom. I can’t. I can handle her fawning over someone else but I can’t afford being apart from her.”

Jinyoung is never helpless but somehow, he’s helpless when it comes to you.

“So you’re going to let her date Jaehyun?” Jaebeom, though his heart wrenches seeing Jinyoung so broken, he’s not going to let Jinyoung give up. “Because I’m telling you, Jinyoung. Jaehyun isn’t playing. We know how someone looks when they’re in love. I’ve seen it on you and believe me or not, I saw it on Jaehyun.”

Jinyoung has never been unconfident. He’s always that one student who is constantly positive that it will turn out well in the end. He believes that even if it’s bad now, it will be better soon. Beat him but now, he sees nothing like that. He can’t bring himself to think that if he confesses to you it will turn out good. That even if something happens, even if you distance yourself from him, you will be okay in the end.

Because it won’t.

“Tell her before it’s too late please.” half pleading, Jaebeom just can’t see his friend being this lost. “Tell her even if it risks your relationship.”

“What if I lose her?” he can’t answer that, of course Jaebeom can’t. It’s not his place to make an escape plan, it certainly is not his place to come up with your answer. But there’s one thing he is sure of.

“Then she certainly doesn’t deserve you.”

“I need to talk to you.” Jinyoung starts, watching you focusing on your screen. Like always, you are grinning, probably laughing at some TikTok videos that Jaehyun sent you.

“One second, Jinyoung.” you quickly type a reply and lock the phone, setting it face down. Another thing that has changed ever since you started talking to Jaehyun. Before, you had nothing to hide but now? Jinyoung doesn’t know you anymore.

You’re now totally focused on him, your eyes staring straight into his eyes but it’s different. It doesn’t feel the same. It feels like you’re someone else. You’re not his girl anymore.

“Jinyoung?”

“Hm?” it’s bothering him how foreign his name comes out from you. It’s been a month and if he counts, you probably utter his name only twice a day. “Oh yes. The talk.”

You are sitting cross legged on your chair, waiting patiently for Jinyoung to start. You realised it too, that you’ve been spending less time with Jinyoung. You do feel sorry for him and you have an inkling that he wanted to talk to you about it. Jinyoung rarely needs to have a talk with you unless he feels bothered, and now you can see how bothered he is.

Taking a look at him, you suddenly feel your heart wrenches. How long have you stopped giving attention to Jinyoung? He has this frown on his face now, sometime you never see before. His hair is a bit longer and his hair colour is a lighter shade of brown.

Who dyed his hair for him? After all, it must have not been you, since you’re busy hanging out with Jaehyun. But usually, you dyed his hair for him, saying you’re the only one who knows how to dye hair properly. Now that you look back, this concern is probably bigger than you expected.

You’ve abandoned your best friend and you knew about it but you did nothing.

“Uhm.” Jinyoung clears his throat, snapping you out of your trance. “I don’t think it’s like- like a big concern.”

“And you know I don’t like complaining either.” he stops, gulping nervously as he continues, “I just feel like we’re too far away.”

“I came home and we’re roommates but I can’t feel you here.”

“You’re so near yet so far.”

You know it will hurt. You know Jinyoung’s choice of words are already the softest he would have chosen, yet it stings. It reminds you of how ungrateful you are, leaving him for someone you have a crush on. He is telling you how he is sad, sad that he gets nothing like before. Your attention is now unavailable for him. It hurts him and now he’s projecting them in words.

Now it hurts you.

“I’m sorry if you feel like I’m demanding. But I just don’t know you anymore. I don’t know how you are, or what you ate for lunch. We’re drifting apart and it hurts me.” he continues as you stay silent, feeling the guilt eating you alive. “I know you have someone new…..yet is it so easy to leave me behind?”

Jinyoung is officially breaking apart. He feels like he’s childish, pouring his heart out but this is about him. This is him demanding you to be fair. He can’t stop you from liking Jaehyun, he can’t force you to love him back. He just wanted to remind you that he’s there. He’s there and please do something.

“Jinyoung.” your voice cracks, slowly the tears fall on your cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m so sorry I made you feel this way. I was too blinded by the newfound happiness and I forgot you. I forgot you who have constantly made me happy.”

“I’m so sorry.” you cried harder, reaching Jinyoung and hugging him. “I’m so sorry I made you feel this way.”

You feel his body shakes and you know he’s holding back from crying. You hated yourself for making Jinyoung cry.

Jinyoung isn’t weak, no he isn’t. He’s been too strong that it breaks his limit. He wanted to let go. He wanted to let go for once and he’ll be fine. If nothing goes right after tonight, he’s done tolerating.

A few quiet sobs and some awful jokes later, both of you are lying on Jinyoung’s bed, holding each other close.

“Jinyoung.”

“Hm?”

“Can I sleep with you here tonight?” you ask Jinyoung, rubbing his arm. It’s been too long since you sleep in his bed and now you feel nostalgic. You’re overreacting but really, it feels too long.

“I thought you’re going to talk to Jaehyun?” he teases, earning himself a slap on his chest. “Ow! What was that for?”

You laugh, settling yourself comfortably in his embrace. “Say Jinyoung.”

“Hm, what?”

“Do you approve Jaehyun?”

He looks down to you, questioning eyes boring into yours. You know it’s too soon, you know perhaps it’s not the best time to bring it up. But you just want to know his answer.

“For what?”

“To be my boyfriend.”

Jinyoung wakes up feeling empty, his eyes stare blankly at the ceiling. You’re still sleeping in his arm yet he has this unsettling feeling inside him. Recalling your last question before you sleep, he inhales a deep breath.

Will you be happy? Will his approval make you happy?

Jaehyun is a nice guy, Jinyoung knows that. Looks aside, he has full potential to be the best boyfriend for you. Jaehyun is caring and also when he loves, he’ll love you to the fullest. It’s not a problem to approve Jaehyun, he won’t hesitate if that’s the only case.

However it’s not.

Will Jinyoung be happy with his decision? It feels like the burden has increased tremendously, from jealousy to pain in just one night. It seems like the one month is just a trial for Jinyoung, now he needs to be prepared to lose you for good.

With his fingers raking your locks, he watches you sleep soundly. This is probably the last time he watches you sleeping in his embrace. This is probably the last time he’ll see you wake up in his arms.

Lord, can you help me stop the time?

“Nope.”

“Jaebeom-”

“Nope. I won’t let you be as stupid as you are.”

Jinyoung lifts his eyebrows, offended by Jaebeom’s statement. He’s just offering a suggestion yet Jaebeom calls him dumb? “Hey! What do you mean as stupid as I am?”

“Jinyoung.” Jaebeom sighs exaggeratedly, holding Jinyoung’s shoulder in place. “When I told you tell her, I mean tell her your feelings your dumb ass. Not just telling her how you feel when she forgot about you!”

“I’m not a dumb ass.”

“Well you look like that to me now.” It’s another evening where you went over to Jaehyun place to finish the assignment and Jaebeom has no other way than to confront Jinyoung about how weird both of you have been.

Yes, both of you have been weird. Specifically, Jinyoung.

The morning you woke up in his embrace, you didn’t notice something was off. Probably because you forgot how it felt waking up with Jinyoung but definitely, Jinyoung was different. As if he had a switch in him, he started avoiding you, keeping your conversation minimal.

You thought it’s just you but one day Jackson asked you why you were both eating separately, one person at the other end of the table, then you realised that Jinyoung had avoided you. Yes, he made it subtle and you never noticed it until someone pointed it out.

Jinyoung still let you sleep with him and still woke you up like any other morning. He just doesn’t talk as much as he did before. And you brush it off, thinking it as another awkward change that you brought upon your friendship.

“You’re not a dumb ass?” Jaebeom asks. “Y/n has been at Jaehyun’s for hours and you’re still here, like a wife waiting for her cheater husband? Oh you’re just unable to think rationally.”

“Shut up. She’s not a cheater.”

Jaebeom had enough of these awkward encounters. It seems like none of you figured this thing out and he needs his lively frat back again. “Then I suggest you do something about y/n. It’s almost eleven and she’s not home yet.”

“Like what?” Jinyoung is now irritated. He doesn’t have any control over what you’re doing and even if he wants to, he can’t. “I’m not her boyfriend.”

“And Jaehyun is not her boyfriend either. So go get her.”

“What?”

“You heard me. As the house leader, I’m ordering you to get her ass from that NCT frat and bring her home.”

“She can come home by herself. Jaehyun will walk her home.”

“Park Jinyoung.” Jaebeom grits his teeth, pulling the said man towards the door and without hesitation, throws him out of the house. “Don’t let me put up ‘No Jaehyun is allowed’ in front of the door. Go fetch her home by 12. I mean it, Park.”

Then Jaebeom slams the door shut, locking it from inside. Though Jinyoung clearly has the key, he knows Jaebeom probably locked the door using the other lock instead. So he stood outside, leaning against the wall.

What is he going to do? Knock on NCT frat and ask for you? No shit he’s not going to look like a desperate man.

But indeed, Jaebeom is right. Jaehyun is not your boyfriend either and he has a valid reason to be worried and to go get you at his house which is only five minutes away. Yeap, valid.

“I must have gone crazy.” Jinyoung mutters as he exits the compound and starts walking on the sidewalk in a painfully slow pace. “I must’ve looked crazy too.”

Five minutes turns fifteen, courtesy of Jinyoung walking around the neighbourhood and standing like a stool against the lamp post, contemplating whether he’s going to knock on the door or not.

“Well.” he sighs, walking up the NCT house and stands nervously in front of their door. “Aite, fuck this.” he knocks, slow at first but gradually the third knock is loud, followed by fourth and fifth. He did it on purpose, he knows how boys can be. Yugyeom and Bambam can be so focused while watching Netflix that they can’t even hear any other noises.

Jinyoung fiddles with his hoodie sleeves, his heart beating nervously as he waits for someone to get the door.

“Who is- oh, Jinyoung!” Thank god, Taeyong shows up, not Lucas or Jaemin or else Jinyoung would have a hard time being less suspicious. “Why are you here?”

Now that’s another hard question? Does he simply say ‘well my roommate is here and it’s already 11.20 and why the fuck is she still here’? Or does he say ‘i’m jealous so i’m picking up my girl’? Nope. Nope.

“Uh. Is y/n here?” He hopes he doesn’t sound like a desperate man asking for his crush’s whereabouts because he feels like he’s one. “It’s- it’s 11.20 and uh Jaebeom is kinda mad? She’s not yet back.”

Taeyong takes like- 30 seconds to let the information sink in, before frantically shouting for Jaehyun. “Jaehyun! Tell y/n that Jinyoung is here to bring her home!”

An awkward silence follows him, well of course it’s awkward. All pairs of eyes are watching him from all directions, curious of why he’s here to bring her home? You have been patronising this house for like, two months now and suddenly he’s here to remind her of her curfew?

He hears you come down the stairs, shock paints your face as you see him at the door. Firstly, well since Jinyoung avoided you, you don’t know why he suddenly came to take you home. Secondly, since when do you need someone to take you home?

“Jinyoung.” you reach the door, Jaehyun trailing behind you equally as confused. “Why are you here?”

The amount of ‘why are you here’ irks him that by the time you ask him the same question, he feels like his blood is boiling. Why is it so hard to believe that he’s here to take you home? Don’t you realise what time is it already? Why are you still at Jaehyun’s? These voices inside his head are shouting at the same time and he just- can’t stop himself anymore.

“Why? I can’t come here now?” his question, as soft as he wanted to sound, didn’t come out well. It sounds plainly rude, like he’s picking a fight with you. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Not that. I’m just confused.”

“Jaebeom told me to come and get you.”

“But I can go home by myself.” you point at Jaehyun behind you, who stays silent between your conversation. “Jaehyun can walk me home.”

At this point, Jinyoung feels anger bubbling up inside him and if everyone squints really really hard, one can see that his jugular vein almost pops. All this ‘Jaehyun this and Jaehyun that’ is starting to get to him and honestly? He’s tired of listening to it.

“Can we just go home?” as much as he wants to scream at everyone, he doesn’t want to make a mess at someone’s frat. He knows how Jaebeom works hard to maintain a good relationship with other frats and how hard it is to clean after messes. “I don’t think we should be having this conversation here.”

You silently agree, bidding the boys goodbye and step out of the house. Jaehyun’s eyes follow you worriedly, as if he knows that you’d probably end up fighting with Jinyoung.

In your eyes, Jinyoung is irritated by the fact that you asked too many questions but in Jaehyun’s eyes, he recognises those emotions as anger and jealousy. He’s been asking you about your true relationship with Jinyoung, knowing that it’s impossible for one to be that close without any feeling involved. Tonight, he found out why.

Jinyoung is in love with you.

“Taeyong.” he whispers while watching both of you getting further away from his house. “Fuck, Taeyong.”

“What?”

“I messed up.”

“What??” how come Jaehyun didn’t realise it from the start? Of course, when he first got close to you, he thought that you and Jinyoung are just best friends and given he never really gets to talk to Jinyoung, well he just didn’t think of that.

“Taeyong.” his frantic eyes find Taeyong, who is as clueless as ever. “Jinyoung loves y/n.”

The leader’s vision switches to the couple on the street, looking at them with wide eyes. “Oh fuck.”

“I don’t understand him!” you throw your hands, ruffling your hair. It’s been four days and Jinyoung avoided you like a plague, refusing to talk to you even if you cornered him every time you got him. “He’s like, really confusing.”

Jaehyun bites the apple, listening to your story intently. You have told him through texts but here you are again, ranting about how Jinyoung is the most useless communicator and it’s impossible to take the words out of him if he decided to give you cold treatment.

“So you said he’s been weird after you asked him if he approves me to be your boyfriend?” he asks again, making sure he had his point right. Just like four days ago, Jaehyun has concluded that Jinyoung indeed, has been in love with you for so long but you’re just dense to realise it. It’s been proven true, you have the audacity to ask Jinyoung about it and not feel guilty at all.

“Yeah.” you sit on the foot of Jaehyun’s bed, settling yourself comfortably. You hang out more at Jaehyun since Jinyoung looks like he’s about to become mute whenever he sees you in the house. You figured you could give him some space. “I’m so confused right now.”

Jaehyun nudges you with his foot, making you look right up to him. Jaehyun has been too comfortable with you, becoming close just after two months. He’s at that stage where he just calls you with his feet now.

“You wanna know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think that Jinyoung is in love with you.”

“What the-” Shock is not enough to portray your feelings right now. It’s a mixture of shock, disbelief and suspicions. You don’t know if Jaehyun is playing around because right at this moment, his face shows no hint of joking. “Jaehyun! It’s not funny!”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes, annoyed with your ignorance. You’re the most clueless person he ever knows, and he knows Mark Lee! “Girl, listen to me.”

“What did Jinyoung say when you said I texted you?”

“He said, ‘so?’”

“And what did he say when you said you like me?”

“Is this another session to feed your ego?” you don’t trust Jaehyun, he has a lot up in his sleeves and you just knew him for two months. “I fed your ego too much, don’t you think so?”

“Shut up and answer me. What did he say?”

You roll your eyes. “He said nothing. Why are we doing this?”

“What did he reply when you ask about me being your boyfriend?”

“He didn’t reply. God, I don’t know where you are going with this conversation.”

Jaehyun takes another bite of his apple, munching while talking at the same time. “You see, he didn’t reply when you told him you like me. That’s fine, maybe he didn’t care. But when you ask him about me being your boyfriend, why didn’t he answer right away?”

“Well-”

“Because he doesn’t want to! Come on, Jinyoung can’t possibly tell you no right? You’d be too nosy and asked why.”

“Hey!”

“So what I think is, he likes you.” Jaehyun concludes, snapping his fingers in triumph. “Now the real question is, do you like him back?”

You shut up, eyes running away from Jaehyun’s. You don’t know, well you have no idea. You never thought about liking Jinyoung because you don’t want to risk your friendship. It might have crossed your mind a few times but you ignored the curiosity, you figured it’s the best to stay being friends.

Not that you don’t want to invest your feelings in Jinyoung, you’re just too afraid that it will backfire you. You don’t like rejection and you certainly don’t want to become awkward afterward.

“I don’t know.” you answer truthfully because really, you don’t know.

“Then find it out.”

You close the door to your room, putting down your bag on the floor and sit down on your bed. Jinyoung is at his study table, unmoved.

“How long are you going to give me cold shoulders, Jinyoung?” you ask, your feet kicking the air. You know he’s listening, even if he has his earphones in. That’s just Jinyoung style, to wear earphones so that no one bothers him, especially Jackson. Whenever Jackson comes over, he’d retreat when he sees Jinyoung stuffing them in his ears. “I know you can hear me, Jinyoung.”

“Let’s not fight anymore.” you look down, suddenly you feel sad. You feel like you’re losing Jinyoung. Is this what Jinyoung feels before? So near yet so far?

“It’s been hard without you, Jinyoung.”

“The mornings are extremely cold without your laugh and the lunch is plain without you cracking up lame jokes. Dinner is boring because you avoided me and night…the nights are even colder without your hugs.”

“I know you’d say, ‘so what? You have Jaehyun so go and ask him to eat with you, crack up lame jokes and give you hugs.’ but I don’t want Jaehyun. I want you.”

Jinyoung has stopped writing, listening to you intently. You noticed this, which is why you continue, “Jaehyun told me that he thinks you like me.”

You didn’t realise it but Jinyoung stiffens at the mention of his crush on you, catching him off guard. He knows that someone will eventually tell you about this but he definitely didn’t think of Jaehyun of all people.

“I don’t know if it’s true. Jaehyun isn’t exactly the best fortune teller so I definitely can’t gamble with his words.”

“I just want you to know that you’re extremely important in my life. I never thought of putting you second just because I found someone new. In fact, I decided that I’ll stay as friends with Jaehyun, I don’t find him that attractive anymore.”

You stand up and walk over to his side, sitting on his bed just beside him, forcing him to face you. “So if that’s the case, can you please stop being jealous now? I don’t have anything to do with Jaehyun. We are not dating and can I please have my Jinyoung back?”

Jinyoung is frowning, his eyes scan you from the top to the bottom. “You don’t find him attractive anymore? Really?”

“Well-” you grin, crinkling your nose up playfully. “He’s still handsome. I can’t deny that.”

You feel more at ease, now that you’ve told Jinyoung what you’ve been wanting to tell him. It feels lighter, your brain and your heart. You hated the days where Jinyoung ignored you and you’re left imagining what you would do without him in your life. The thought alone scares you, the fact that you’ve been so comfortable with Jinyoung beside you and you never thought he’ll leave you for someone else someday.

“So you still like him.” Jinyoung confirms and turns around to his note again, picking up his pen.

You scream, pulling him away from his work and tugs him nearer, trying to have all his attention on you. Jinyoung struggles to escape from your grips but fails miserably, laughing along the way. You join him, laughing together as you bring him nearer.

“Let me go, oh god. Since when you’re so strong?” he wrestles his way out of your grip again, hoisting you up and throws you on the bed easily. “Did you practise lifting Jaehyun’s dumbbells?”

“Yeah, I went there to exercise.” you reply deadpanned and laugh when Jinyoung tickles you as a revenge.

“Hey.” you call out, trying to get his attention again. Jinyoung’s arms have you caged, he’s on top of you while you lie comfortably on his bed. “Is it true?”

“What is?” Jinyoung’s eyes rake you face up and down, like how his thoughts are running wild inside his brain. He doesn’t know what to do, does he confess now? Does he confirm that it’s true? Does it mean you’ll be his? Can he do that? Can he kiss you?

“Is it true that you like me?” just as Jinyoung, you’re nervous. You’re conflicted. What if he doesn’t actually like you? What is Jaehyun really bad at guessing? You’re not surprised, nothing surprises you about Jaehyun anymore.

“What if it’s true?”

“I’d be so happy.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve been thinking for a while and I don’t think i can ever end up with someone else other than you.”

“Oh yeah?” Jinyoung’s heart stops at your confession, then beats harder as he feels his adrenaline pumping his blood faster. “Can I kiss you now?”

You shake your head, watching Jinyoung’s eyes grow and a cute frown appears on his face. You wanted to laugh but you held back, looking straight into his eyes.

“Why not?”

“You haven’t said you like me.”

“Oh my god.” he curses, turning away from you when he feels his face grows hotter. “Fuck- fine. I like you. Are you satisfied?”

You laugh, nodding furiously. Jinyoung doesn’t waste any more seconds, diving right then to press his plump lips to yours, taking the perfect shape of your lips in his.

Finally. His mind says, Fucking finally.

“God. finally.” he mutters to himself, somewhat trying to convince himself that indeed, he’s kissing you. “Oh god.”

“Do you know how long I have been dying to kiss you?” he reaches down to press another kiss on your temple, another on your cheeks, nose and your chin, then pressing the last one on your lips once again.

You chuckle under him, pressing your palms on his chest to hold him. “How long?”

“Too long, I’ve forgotten already.” his reply earns another laugh from you.

Jinyoung moves to lie beside you, watching you play with the string of his hoodie. It’s funny how time works. About fifteen minutes ago you’re sitting on your bed, trying to fix things up and now you’re lying beside him after he kissed you breathless.

“I thought you’re dating Jaehyun.” he did. He really thought that after what happened, you’d hate him. “I hated myself for screaming at you.”

A strand of his hair falls on his forehead and you reach to swipe it away, pushing his locks behind. “Yeah, you’re quite rude.”

“Very rude.”

“I thought our friendship is ending.” you confess, eyes on his chest instead of his face. “I thought it’s the end of us. That you got fed up with me.”

“Then it turns out that you’re just a jealous boy.”

Jinyoung pushes your chin up, making you face him. “Just a jealous boy? You didn’t know how jealous I am when everything is about Jaehyun! Have you ever heard I talk about other girls? No right? See who’s rude now?”

Another laugh escapes you and you caress his face, calming him down. “I didn’t know, okay. I thought you were fine with it.”

“Yeah right.”

“But we’re here now, right? You don’t have to be jealous anymore.”

“Really?” Jinyoung’s finger finds your lock, playing with the strand. “Do you like me too?”

You really want to make him suffer a bit. Just a bit since he’s being a pain in the ass for ignoring you for one week straight.

“Hmm, I need to think about that again.” you grin, sending Jinyoung into a series of screams.

“What the- out!” he pushes you off his bed with you hanging onto him while your laugh fills the room. “Get out of my bed!”

“Oh my god. I can’t believe you! Did you just play me?”

“Is my feeling that easy?”

“Get out of my bed!”

“Jinyoung!”

“Out!”

You don’t know about your feelings, just yet. But there’s one thing for sure. You love Jinyoung’s kisses. You can deal with that. But his petty ass? That calls for a serious mental discussion.

[ Writings ]

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justallamaimaginingthings · 4 years

Text

Life And Death Part 2 {Klaus Hargreeves x Reader}

A/n: I’ve been checking out the Umbrella Academy comics and I was SHOOKETH to found out about Klaus’ powers so I decided to explore the topic and things kinda went their own way from there on (hence why this is kinda off canon). Hope you like it and please don’t hesitate to leave a comment!

Words: 1880ish II TUA Masterlist

Part 1 II Part 2

Previously

“What are you waiting for?” She whispered against his lips and that was all he needed to hear. Almost instinctively, his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest right before his lips crashed into hers. His eyes shut in bliss as he felt her tangle her fingers in his hair only to hold him closer.

At first the kiss was slow and sensual as they explored each other, but it didn’t take long until desperation got the best of them and soon enough their movements became needy and feverish. She nipped on his lower lip and Klaus couldn’t help the groan that escaped him as he melted under her touch. One of his hands found its way on the back of her neck and he decided to deepen the kiss. He tasted like nicotine and was just as addictive making her feel like she could never let him go. Her skin seemed to light on fire under the slightest of his touch and the way his soft lips were moving against her felt like heaven.

Klaus could feel control slipping away from him with every passing moment and he surrendered to her touch, unaware of the stream of blue light that had almost encircled the two of them. When the lack of oxygen became too much she hesitantly pulled away without leaving his embrace. Looking at him through half-lidded eyes, she could see the affectionate and dared she say loving look he was giving her, sending a shiver down her spine. He looked disheveled with an adorable smile gracing his swollen lips and she couldn’t help reciprocating the action as she continued playing with his curly locks.

"I think I'm in love with you" He blurted before he could hold himself back and then everything happened all at once. She could feel her breath getting caught in her throat as the reality of his words sunk in before realizing something. She was breathing, she was actually breathing like a living person. Her eyes blew wide open in shock as she tried to comprehend what was going on.

Upon seeing her panicked reaction, he thought it was his fault and cursed his recklessness once again before looking down, only for him to realize they were floating over the ground. He couldn’t understand how, but deep down he knew he was making all this happen and it freaked him out, breaking his concentration and causing the both of them to stumble back to the ground. She ended up landing on top of him and the two of them exchanged a worried glance.

"What the hell was that?" He exclaimed as his thoughts raced, trying to find some sense into what had just happened. She jumped up, seemingly having ignored him, as she took in her surroundings. For the first time in years she could feel the sun hitting her face and smell the grass and her heart was beating like crazy. She gasped at that. Her heart was beating.

"Klaus, I have a heartbeat. I-I can feel my heart beating" She stuttered, turning back to look at him.

"Trust me, love, I feel the sa- wait WHAT?" He stopped his sentence midway, only then realizing the true meaning of her sentence. It couldn’t be possible, she was dead and she had been dead for years. She grasped his hand and brought it to her wrist, letting him feel the pulse throbbing in her veins and he gaped at her. The whole situation was impossible and Klaus found himself unable to wrap his head around what was happening. Out of all the crazy things he had witnessed in his life that was by far the most absurd.

"Prophet we need your advice." A voice interrupted Klaus' thoughts. The short man with the glasses they had come to know as Keechi looked at her for a moment before turning back to Klaus "I'm sorry for interrupting your conversation"

"You can see her?" Klaus almost yelled at the man.

"Of course, Prophet. However, I think it's not a good moment so I'll leave you two alone" The short man replied before making his exit from the garden, leaving the pair even more confused than before.

"Okay, this sounds insane even as I say it, but I think you're alive" Klaus said slowly and even though the thought sounded ridiculous, it was the only reasonable explanation to the situation. He expected her to roll her eyes and tell him he was talking nonsense. What he did not expect, however, was for her to start running around the garden, touching, smelling and tasting fruits and flowers with an awestruck expression on her face as she started to rediscover everything death had so cruelly taken away from her. Laughing loudly out of pure happiness, she kicked off her shoes so that she could feel the grass tickling her feet.

Turning around she saw Klaus watching her, his confusion having given way to a small grin and she made her way towards him, jumping into his arms with such speed she nearly knocked him down. He didn’t miss a second before wrapping his arms around her just like he had a few minutes before, only this time he could hear the beating of her heart against his chest as she hugged him tightly. He gently kissed her forehead and she hummed in satisfaction as she reveled in his warmth. Suddenly, she looked up at him, a mischievous smirk on her lips. "The pool" She stated simply, before grabbing his hand and nearly dragging him across the estate.

A few hours later they returned in the mansion and they fell back into a couch. They were both exhausted to the core but only realizing it then as the adrenaline was finally fading away. She leaned her head on his shoulder, letting out a long breath as they both sunk in a thoughtful silence.

"I still can't believe this is happening" Her voice broke the tense silence a while later "You literally brought me back to life. Do you realize what this means?" She asked a little more seriously, but with excitement still evident in her tone.

"That I’ll get pushed into pools all the time?" He replied playfully in reference to the incident that had taken place earlier that day, causing her to gently slap his arm in fake annoyance while she chuckled lightly.

"No, you dork. Well maybe, but that's not the point I was going for. What I meant is that your powers are way more than we could have imagined" She explained and even though he knew she was right, he felt weird talking about it. Finding out he was able to do so much more than he expected had been terrifying at first and it had taken him a long while to accept that he could physically interact with the dead even with resurrection out of the game, but now the stakes were even higher and the mere thought of what this power really was scared the living hell out of him.

"Yeah, we don’t really have to talk about this" He was quick to dismiss the subject causing her to raise an eyebrow at him. Maybe he just wasn't in a mood to talk, she thought but he had answered way too quickly for it to be random. Suddenly she felt a pang of guilt hitting her. She had been so preoccupied with herself she hadn’t even thought about how he must have been feeling.

"We don't have to, but it would be good to talk about it" She said trying not to push him. Over time she had come to understand he never talked about his feelings when he could avoid it and even though she had tried really hard to respect that, she knew that bottling everything up ended up hurting him much worse.

"I know it’s just that…" He paused for a moment taking a deep breath. It was extremely rare for Klaus to find someone he could be honest with, let alone trust his secrets to and even though he knew she was that person sometimes honesty was just too hard. "All this power and responsibility, that's hero stuff and in case you haven’t noticed I'm anything but one" He admitted, trying and failing to hide his fear behind yet another sarcastic remark.

"To me you are" She started softly, taking his hands in hers and turning so that she could look into his eyes "Sure, you've made mistakes, but who hasn't? You are still kind and brave and strong even after all the shit you've been through. Hell, I wouldn’t be here if it weren't for you. No matter what, Klaus, you'll always be my hero"

By the time she was done talking, his eyes were shining with unshed tears and he was grasping her hands so tight it was almost hurting but she didn't let go. Instead she pulled him into a hug and he buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in. He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her closer so that she was almost sitting on his lap, but still it was not enough. He wanted, no he needed her as close as she could get and she complied by lacing her hands around his shoulders and gently stroking his back. They stayed like this for a while, enjoying each other's embrace and trying to show everything they couldn't bring themselves to say.

I think I'm in love with you. His words kept echoing in her mind and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get them out of her mind. It was everything she wanted to hear and at the same time everything she never expected. Every time she closed her eyes she could feel his lips against hers and she can't take this anymore. She had been in love with him longer than she could even remember and she had to know if he felt the same way.

"Klaus, there's something I need to ask you" She whispered in his ear and he could feel her hot breath fanning on his face, making his heart race. Instead of replying he hummed lowly, not trusting his voice to remain steady. "What you said this morning, did you mean it?"

She doesn't have to say another word because he knows what she's talking about. His whole body stiffens and he pulls away from her in a matter of seconds as if her touch burned him. He looks up at her and she can see the fear in his eyes. She had always been able to somehow keep his demons at bay, but right now he can feel doubt crushing him and not even she can stop it. He loves her more than words can express but he knows he doesn't deserve her and it's killing him. This time, however, he can't hide from the truth, so he takes a shaky breath and forces himself to speak.

"I meant every word" His voice is hoarse and unsteady but it doesn’t stop him "And I know I don't-" She knows what's following and she has heard more than enough. She shushes him by gently placing a finger over his lips before slowly moving her hand to cup the side of his face.

"I love you" Her voice is steady and soft and she's looking at him with such affection that for the first time in his life, Klaus Hargreeves is at a complete loss of words. It takes a moment for her words to sink in. He can’t understand how someone as pure as her could love someone as broken as him, but right now it doesn't matter. All that matters is her as he crashes his lips to hers for the second time that day. The kiss has nothing to do with their first one, it's rushed and hungry as they cling into each other holding on for dear life. She tugs on his hair and he desperately whimpers against her lips, his grip on her waist tightening even more.

"I love you. I love you. I love you" She keeps whispering after they break apart, leaving tender kisses along his jaw line with every word and his eyes flutter shut in bliss before he pulls her back in for another passionate kiss. They spend the rest of the night like this, snuggled in each other's arms and whispering sweet nothings until the sun comes up. Klaus has spent his entire life running away from things and for the first time he feels like he actually belongs somewhere and that is by her side. He knows he's lucky to have her and he's prepared to try anything in order to become worthy of her love, unaware that all she’ll ever ask for is him. They fall asleep after dawn, still holding on to each other and determined never to let go.

Tags: @twigleektribute23 💘💘

A/n: Y’all can always message me if you wish to be tagged in anything specific (fic or character or whatev), it always brightens my day.

#tua #tua klaus #tua imagine #tua x reader #tua x you #klaus hargreeves #klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves x you #klaus hargreeves imagine

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cockasinthebird · 4 years

Note

I could NOT resist your prompt meme and I could equally NOT resist asking for 69 😎 (Doing this on anon because I still haven’t worked out side blogging, but I’m cherrydreamer)

@cherrydreamer Don’t worry, this is my sideblog as well, and it is just not a function yet to send asks from them!

69. “I’ve never done this before.”

And while I have, I’ve never written it before, so this is exciting!!! I sat down when I came home today, and wrote it all out in one sitting, 1.6k words only, but I knew from the moment I even got this ask exactly what I wanted to do, and I am very happy with the result! Just straight to the point!

Thank you so much for sending one in!!! Before I let you all read this juicy fic, I wanna say that I’ve gotten 5 69 requests, yes, 5, and several friends have admitted they were so close to saying 69 or 420, and I think it is hilarious, I love each and every one of you all so much for this!! 😂😂🤣 AND I’m gonna do them all!!! all 5 69s; I already know what the next two are gonna be!!

Now, with my rambling done, please, enjoy~

“I’ve never done this before,” Steve says, honest, and his words don't surprise Billy.

“Yeah you don’t strike me as the type,” his response spoken through a crooked smirk, eyes adoring as he takes in the perfect nudity of his blushing boyfriend.

And Steve’s eyes crinkle as he laughs. “Don’t be rude! I’m doing this for you!”

Billy chuckles and leans in to kiss those smiling lips. “No, we’re doing this for us, for fun.” His hand lingers against Steve’s neck; rubbing soothing circles just beneath his jaw.

“You done it before?” Steve’s dark and lustrous eyes fall down to where Billy’s thick chub rests against his thigh, just past the border of where his tan-line cuts off.

“Sure, a few times but only with girls, usually with her on top so I don’t, you know…” He caresses Steve’s cheek and grins something so self-satisfied. “Choke her to death.”

Steve can’t help the chortle that escapes, and he leans forward to press their foreheads together. He’s all flushed and nervous and weirdly embarrassed to try something new, but also excited.

“So how do we do it?”

“Well, as much as I’d love to fuck the shit out of your pretty little mouth,” Billy drawls rough and erotic, his thumb pulling at Steve’s lower lip, “I’m thinking the safest position is for us both to be on our sides, that way we’re both in equal control and responsible for our own breathing.”

Again Steve lets out a little jittery noise, close to a chuckle, as he kisses Billy’s palm. “Okay.”

“And you just say stop if you don’t like it or if it’s too much or for any reason really, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve whispers and leans in to kiss the other, smiling and blushing and just- “God, I feel like a virgin again!”

Billy grabs him firmly with both hands to his cheeks, kisses him over and over and over in an attempt to alleviate some of the timid nerves. “You’ll do fine, don’t worry! Now, lie down on your side.”

So Steve does as is asked, lays down on his side, head near where the pillow would have been if Billy didn’t insist they needed the full bed clear of everything that could “get in the way.”

“Mmmmh,” Billy hums in appreciation and runs his hand down along Steve’s side till he reaches a thigh and squeezes it softly. “Comfortable?”

“As comfortable as I’ll get,” Steve replies with a little, happy smile.

“Good.” And there’s a glint of something so devious in Billy’s eyes, lids heavy and pupils blown as he stares down.

Then he gets on his side, mirroring Steve’s pose but with his head in the opposite end, eyeing up that long cock that lies at half mast, having gone a bit soft from nerves, but Billy doesn’t take it personal. He looks down - or up, depending on whose perspective is to be taken into consideration - and catches Steve looking back.

“Enjoying the view?” Billy asks and cracks a wide and humored grin.

Steve visibly swallows, and nods. “Y-yeah, very.”

The trust placed in him is terribly heart warming, and just goes to show how much Steve really loves Billy. And Billy can’t help but love him back.

“Now lift up your head and I’ll just slip my leg underneath so you can rest on my thigh if need be, yeah?” Billy’s calm as he guides Steve on this exploratory journey, rock hard but patient, and Steve does exactly as instructed. “Perfect.”

“Any… any final advice?” Steve’s tone is hesitant but intrigued.

To those words, Billy licks his lips, making them good and wet, smirking like a devil down between Steve’s thighs. “Don’t be shy.” And he wolfs down Steve’s dick in one go, sucking him in as deep as he can go before gagging.

“Fuck, ah!” Steve gasps loudly and tenses up in an attempt to fight the urge to buck his hips for more.

Billy works him over good and ravenously, a hand around the bottom of the shaft where his lips can’t quite reach, tongue rolling against the head whenever, moaning and rumbling around Steve’s cock as it’s quick to grow fully hard with such masterful persuasion. It curves so wonderfully along his tongue and toward his throat.

“Oh God, shit-”

From the lack of attention, Billy moves his own hips, moans out something that could resemble actual words as he inches himself closer to Steve’s head.

There is instant relief in surface tension as slender fingers wrap around his aching erection and starts moving at an all too erratic pace, but it’s working for him, especially when Steve then closes his lips around the head and licks across the slit, swirls around the hot flesh, sucking on just the tip for now, but with such enthusiasm it makes Billy’s cock kick and leak near immediately.

Steve gives good fucking head for a guy who’s mostly only been with girls, but there’s always such a ferocity to it, like he loves the feeling of Billy’s girthy cock in his mouth, on his tongue, tickling the back of his throat as he swallows all of him.

He would survive, Billy thinks, if he had decided to be on top of this, fucking with abandon into this incredible wet heat while sucking off Steve’s own lengthy dick. Steve could probably take it, would probably just let him thrust with wild abandon. And the imagery of it is enough to make him go insane.

“God, Stevie,” he pops off to groan out, breathing hard and ragged as he gazes down, hand still fisting fervently. “Feels so fucking good, pretty boy, you’re doing so so good for me, arrh-”

And Steve moans eagerly, goes deeper till there’s no more flesh and his nose is pressed against Billy’s balls.

“Fuck, that’s amazing,” Billy pants and hisses.

Before going back to taste the pre that drips from Steve’s hard cock, Billy shoves three fingers into his mouth, gathering spit and licking around each digit, getting them as soaking wet as possible, then brings them over Steve’s hip, between his cheeks and teases at his hole, getting the rim nice and slippery, but not yet penetrating; waits for the go ahead.

Steve pulls off to meet Billy’s gaze, his own expression that of unadulterated euphoria. “Please, please, yes.”

It takes no more than that to make Billy drive in his middle finger all the way past the second knuckle, earning himself a loud and wonderful, “Ah!”

As he pumps the finger in and out, he bobs his head in tact, keeping a fast and confident rhythm, knowing from the way Steve loses all control of his voice that he’s doing absolutely magnificent, and the elated sounds coming from his boyfriend could easily bring him over the edge.

“Oh fuck, ahh, Billy, yes! M-more-” Steve mewls and calls out, having completely abandoned the task of sucking Billy clean, but more than makes up for it with a slick and excited handjob.

He needs air, and it is his first time doing something like this, he’ll learn, with practice, Billy’s not upset or disappointed.

By the keen request, he pushes in a second finger, keeps the same pace and recognizes easily from the way that Steve’s rambling and moaning out curses that he’s close, Billy’s close, too. Steve’s muscles contracting around his thick fingers, the hand around his cock jerking and flicking like his life depends on it, all he really needs, really wants now is for Steve to cum all over his tongue, fill up his mouth, make him choke and swallow on his semen.

So he sucks with more passion, forces his way further down till he feels the head go deeper into his throat, hollows his cheeks, curls his tongue around the shaft the best he can, and at that Steve comes undone, crying out till there’s no more air in his lung, cumming hard and thick down Billy’s throat, who takes great pleasure in swallowing every single drop.

His own tumble over the edge is incredible, so utterly fulfilling, as he cums into Steve’s swift hand, the heat of his orgasm blooming in his cock and sending warm ripples up his abs, down his thighs, toes curling as he pulls off of Steve’s wasted prick to breathe and groan, his entire being tensing up perfectly as Steve works him through it with a firm yet tender hand.

They both roll onto their backs, panting and heaving, exhausted and destroyed, just reveling in the afterglow and glorious bliss, waiting for their senses to return.

Billy’s the first to move as he sits up to look at Steve. White streaks have been painted across his chest, a bit on his chin, and like in the presence of a masterpiece that hang at the Louvre, Billy admires his work. He reaches down to swipe away sweaty locks from Steve’s forehead, and hadn’t realized just how sweaty his own neck got till just now.

“That was…” Steve huffs, somewhere between serene and disbelief. “Wow, I dunno… Fun?”

And Billy can’t help but chuckle at that. “Yeah,” he says with a nod, “Fun.”

He brings his hand down to Steve’s chest and draws with his own semen, connecting the moles in an incomprehensible pattern.

“Perfetto!” he erupts, showing off what little Italian he has picked up from his dear boyfriend.

Steve leans up on his elbows and looks down at the mess, then laughs joyfully, before saying with a perfect accent, “Molto bene!” And he pulls Billy down into a loving and adoring kiss.

#Harringrove #My Writing #Lemon #Mystery Prompt #500 Followers #Actual 69'ing #Also #Italian Steve #Cherrydreamer #Anonymous

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et-lesailes · 4 years

Text

the bodyguard | pt. 3

series masterlist

pairing: dark!curtis everett x reader

word count: 1381

chapter summary: curtis finally gives you what you want, but not without ensuring he gets what he wants too.

themes: smut, manipulation, degradation, edging

taglist: @tanyam93, @bval-1, @wonderwinchester, @patzammit, @rohaintahquil, @deidrashouseofpain, @sammyslonglostshoe, @jadedhillon, @bohemian-barbie, @whysparker, @sebabestianstan101, @lille-kattunge, @teller258316, @peach-acid, @allsortsofinterests, @xoxabs88xox, @heyiamthatbitch, @cptn-sgrogers, @heyyouwiththeassbutt, @bangtan-serendipity, @troublermalik, @beardburnsupersoldiers, @bookish-shristi, @kind-sober-fullydressed, @gingerninjaprincess16, @straightforwardly, @denisemarieangelina, @frencchfries, @xlanawriter, @littlemoistcarrot, @pottxrwolff, @arianatheangelworld, @southerngracela, @nsfwsebbie, @rororo06, @savemesteeb, @raveviolet, @hurricanerinwrites, @captainamerica-is-bae, @shaddixlife, @tessa-bl, @marvelouspottering, @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc, @thegetawaywriter, @dwights-new-plague, @rynabarnesrogers, @fckdeusername, @doloreschanal, @ssworldofsw, @la-cey, @buckybarnesplumwhore, @hevans-angel, @chuckbass-love, @stardust-galaxies, @smyfmj, @chris-evans-indian-fanfic

notes: would love to hear your feedback! graphic creds to @allthefandomstogether ~

A day becomes two, three, four, five…

One week goes by and Curtis has barely even looked at you. He resumes his bodyguard duties, but he doesn’t even entertain your feisty backtalk anymore like he used to. You’ve hardly heard a word from him unless he absolutely needs to talk.

You can’t even begin to explain the psychological torture. And the physical torture. Ever since that day, all you can think about is Curtis- he takes up every inch of your mind until you feel that familiar wetness pool between your legs, the heat driving you insane. He sees you retreat to your private cart at random times, and you’re convinced he knows why. In fact, you want him to know. You’re shameless. As your fingers tease your wet folds, rubbing and pumping and doing everything you can to satiate yourself, it’s his name you’re moaning aloud, just hoping he walks in on you. Maybe then he’ll get the urge again.

But it never happens. The way he talks and acts is as though he’s had no regard for you whatsoever, let alone forced you to take his cock in your mouth. You’re paranoid now. Are you no longer of interest to him? Does he find you repulsive? Is there some front section slut he finds more appealing? Did you do something wrong? Your mind is racing with all sorts of scenarios, each one pointing to you being at fault, to you not being good enough. Why do you even want to be good enough? You don’t know. He’s certainly turned the tables, and you’re becoming more and more desperate. It isn’t long before you finally snap.

Little did you know that was exactly what he wanted.

“Look at me, right now!” you practically scream as you approach him, your eyes fiery and your fists balled at your sides. “What did I do, huh? I did everything you asked! I-- I obeyed you, I made you cum, didn’t I?! Why don’t you want me anymore??” You know you’re throwing a hissy fit at this point, but you can’t help it. He’s officially driven you mad.

He looks down at you, actually thrown off for a moment- the most emotion he’s shown in the past week. He then raises a brow. “Do you want me to want you, Y/N?” he asks, his voice dangerously low. You open your mouth then pause, knowing if you say yes, you’d be admitting to everything your pride would never let you admit to before. His blues are practically piercing through you at this point, chillier than the ice outside.

“Yes.” You finally whisper, then raise your voice, repeating, “Yes! Yes, because I want you! I want you to fuck me already, Curtis- no, I need you, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

“Is it the truth?” he asks simply, and you look at him incredulously. “I-- I tell you all of that, and that’s how you-” you pause, taking a moment to register this as you turn around. You can’t believe it. You’re mad now, furious. You even have a little bit of an idea of how he feels every time you would act difficult with him. But you don’t care about that now.

You whirl back around, nothing but frustration and anger in your features. “Yes, it’s the fucking truth, okay?!” you yell, stepping closer to him and shoving at his chest. “Soak it in, revel in it, bask in all the goddamn glory- yes, a front sectioner wants you. I can’t stop thinking about you, I even touch myself thinking about you, did you know that?? So just fucking-”

Before you know it, he’s suddenly grabbing your arm and dragging you into your private cart, the doors loudly sliding shut behind you. “God, you talk too much.” He growls, moving his hand to hold you by the throat as he pins you against the wall. You gasp loudly, instinctively reaching up to grip his wrist, staring up at him- you recognize that cocky, hungry glint in his eyes. “I’ll give you just what you need, Y/N, because you’ll be giving me the same.”

You don’t even have time to ask what he means. He’s ripping your clothes off, and then his own, his length standing thick and proud. He grabs his wrists and holds your arms above your head. He then presses himself against you, rubbing his tip upon your folds already practically dripping with need from waiting so long. “Go ahead. Beg.” He demands sharply, and a shameless moan escapes your lips as you desperately grind against him. “Please, please Curtis! I need you inside me, right now, please!!”

He thrusts into you roughly and deeply, groaning to himself as he grits his teeth tight. You whine and whimper feeling the force of his hips starting to slam against yours, your nails digging into your palms as you clench your fists tightly. “Aah… ah, oh… fuck…! Curtis…!” Your body knows just how much you wanted this; you already feel yourself getting close. Your walls begin to tighten, your breaths become more pitched, your eyes rolling back…

And then he pulls out.

You actually gasp. The sudden emptiness is almost painful. You stare at him in complete shock. “What-- What the hell are you… Curtis!!” He looks at you barely panting, but a wicked smirk slowly crosses his lips. “Get ready, princess. It’s going to be a long night.”

He does it again. And again. And again, and again. With his dick, with his fingers, with his tongue, even with your hairbrush. You’re a mess- your skin is red and hot, your body is quivering almost violently, your hair is all over the place, your lips are nearly bleeding from biting them so hard. He looks almost as tortured, but he keeps it together. He must have practiced this entire week, you can tell. At this point, you’re almost ready to cry.

“Stop, stop Curtis, please! Please, I’m begging you,” you gasp out, your shoulders shaking, your voice desperate and barely cohesive. “I’ll do anything, just let me cum already, please!”

He looks at you for a few moments before leaning in, murmuring something into your ear. You listen in complete shock, your eyes staring straight ahead as you process what he’s telling you. But you nod your head, even though you know you’ll regret it later. You need him. You’ve never needed something, someone so badly before.

“Good girl.” He thrusts himself inside you, placing one hand on the wall next to your head for support, groaning as he moves his hips back and forth roughly. You cry out from the sensitivity, but you’re already closer than ever from all the stimulation. When you finally release, you squirt all over his cock, a pleasant surprise for him- he groans as he cums deep inside you, keeping himself pressed in as much as he can in order to not spill a single drop.

When he pulls out, you slowly slide your back down the wall, seating yourself on the floor completely exhausted, breathless, and shocked upon what just happened.

“You are completely obedient to me now, aren’t you? You agreed so fast,” he breathes out huskily, plopping himself down to sit against the wall opposite you, observing you with a slight smirk. His eyes drop down to your belly, nibbling on his lip. “You, me, and our little child, running this train together… well, mainly me, of course.” He nods towards the wall phone hanging next to you, murmuring wickedly, “Go ahead. Tell Grandfather what you’ve decided. That you want me by your side. That you’re in love with me, that we’re having a baby together and that we’ll be in charge of this train once he passes.”

He has you trapped. Your parents died before the train was boarded, and your grandfather doesn’t have much time left either. Sure, maybe you could manage to get his other men to go after Curtis and kill him for what he’s done.

But he’s right. You are completely obedient to him now. You’re desperate to please him, and to be pleased by him. He’s more addicting than any drug you’ve come across.

You pick up the phone, slowly dialing the number.

“Grandfather…?”

#curtis everett x reader #curtis everett smut #curtis everett x you #curtis everett fanfiction #curtis everett imagine

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blossom-hwa · 4 years

Text

Dawn - MINHO

LOOK I KNOW I’VE SCREAMED ABOUT THIS FOR LIKE A DAY BUT I’M SO FUCKING EXCITED I CAN’T BELIEVE I WROTE THIS IN LESS THAN TWO DAYS. THANK U ANON WHO ASKED ME TO WRITE THIS YOU PULLED ME OUT OF WRITER’S BLOCK (constellation is giving me ISSUES)

pls don’t let this flop i’ll be v v sad

Pairing: Minho x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, royalty!au, fantasy!au

Triggers: mild violence (nothing too graphic), death

Word Count: 9.2k

For many, twenty-one signals a new beginning. But for some, it only marks the end of freedom.

SKZ Masterlist

Twenty-one. Minho hates that number. It signals the beginning of change, the beginning of the end of everything he’s come to know and love.

Twenty-one. How old he will be when he comes of age. How old he will be at his coronation. How old he will be when his parents will expect him to find a partner. A partner who is rich. A partner who has power. A partner who will rule with him until the end of their days.

A partner who will bear them grandchildren.

The door slams behind him and Minho doesn’t even bother to disguise his annoyance as he stalks down the hall, boots clicking loudly against the marble floor. He can almost hear the sighs emanating from his parents behind the wooden doors, but he pushes the thought of that out of his mind.

Twenty-one. For many, it signals something exciting. Coming of age. Becoming an adult. Setting out on a new life with someone they love.

But not for Minho. His coming kingship will only be an extension of all he’s been learning for the past twenty years. His parents have been asking for his input on running the kingdom for the past five. Now, he’ll just be fully taking the reins. Not much new.

Well, he gets a new crown. Minho rolls his eyes at the thought. Another useless and heavy ornament to make his head ache and his scalp itch.

His mother’s previous words echo in his head. “You must choose a partner over the next two weeks. If you do not, we will be forced to.”

“No one’s forcing you to do anything,” Minho grumbles under his breath. He dreads the next two weeks more than anything else in his life. The celebrations for the first week will mark his birthday. The celebrations for the next week will mark his coronation.

The thought makes him sick to his stomach. Not because he doesn’t feel ready to rule, but mostly because he isn’t ready for all of his (limited) freedom to be taken away in such a rush. Already he can feel the seconds ticking away, marking off every moment of his remaining time as a prince.

Minho sighs. His feet have taken him to the ballroom, his favorite place in the palace. He looks up at the doors and sighs again, even more heavily. He still has two weeks, Minho reasons. Might as well have some fun with it.

With that, he disappears through the large gilt doors.

. . .

Twenty-one. You hate that number. It signals the end of your life as you know it.

The literal end.

“Curses,” you mumble, tugging at the gem resting against your throat. It glimmers in the moonlight, a brilliant sparkle against the pure white feathers of your dress.

You wonder for the umpteenth time why your uncle chose you as the successor of the forest instead of his only son. Chan was strong and powerful – much more powerful than you, at any rate. Shouldn’t your uncle have seen beforehand what sort of destruction Chan would cause if he chose you over him?

But you know the answer why. Had your uncle chosen Chan, the demise of the forest would have come much more quickly than it already has. At least the years Chan spent hiding away, learning the dark arts, allowed you to increase your strength and magic. Had Chan been appointed ruler of the forest, he would have destroyed it much more quickly in his quest for power. At least now you can fight back.

Somewhat.

You wonder, also for the umpteenth time, what your uncle would say if he knew how Chan had cursed you.

Ruler by night, swan by day. If the graceful plumage of your dress doesn’t serve as enough of a reminder of your situation, the constant transformations at sunrise and sunset certainly drive you insane. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the awful transition between the two forms.

Well, in two weeks, on your twenty-first birthday, maybe you won’t have to.

Immediately you shake those thoughts away. It’s too terrifying to think of, being forced to spend the rest of your life as a swan.

The only way to avoid the permanent transformation is to break Chan’s curse. The “easiest” way to do that is by killing him. But Chan is careful, very careful. Despite your and your friends’ best efforts, you cannot find a way to corner him.

Your uncle once told you that you were far more powerful than Chan would ever be. He said this just two days after he appointed you his successor, the day after Chan disappeared. Terrified and confused, you’d only watched numbly as he clasped a necklace around your throat.

“This will protect you,” he’d said quietly. “It is imbued with a magic as old as time – Chan will not be able to fully surpass it, ever. However, its magic will expire on your twenty-first birthday. You must find your own power before then.”

“Twenty-one,” you murmur, clutching the gem tight in your fist. “The end of everything and the beginning of nothing.”

You stand up on the soft grass, feathers sweeping gently across your arms. Twenty-one or no, you are still the ruler of the forest, and you have a duty to aid those who live under your protection. Another night of patrol, of helping the wounded, of fighting off the growing threats Chan has been sending into your territory.

Another night gone by before the day you become a bird forever.

. . . . .

Throngs of people crowd the streets and Minho smiles behind his mask of pale green. He’s slipped away from the castle, only letting Changbin, Hyunjin, and Felix know where he’s going. Changbin and Hyunjin are somewhere in the crowd watching over him. Felix stayed in the palace to cover for his absence.

For a few precious hours, Minho has freedom. No one knows him behind his mask. No one knows him behind his forest nymph costume. Clothed in earthy green and brown, he looks like just another reveler in the streets, celebrating the coming birthday of the country’s beloved crown prince.

He used to think the costume concept was stupid. Now, he’s very grateful for the tradition.

The moon rises quickly into the sky as the last rays of the sun fade, and Minho finds himself pushed into a crowd of dancers. As the moon climbs higher into the stars, the cheery dance tunes dissipate, leaving behind cool, calm lyricism to honor the heavens who put the country’s kind rulers upon their thrones.

He dances with person after person, whirling from one hand to another as gasping laughter turns to serene smiles under the blanket of stars overhead. In between songs, he breaks through the dancing throng for a breather.

Then he sees a vision. That is what you must be – no human glows like that under the moon. No human is the vision of ethereal beauty that you are. You only sway slightly to the beat of the song, but even your simple movements are like a ripple of shining silk – graceful, ethereal.

As though in a trance, he finds himself walking towards where you stand on the outskirts of the crowd. You turn around as he steps closer and Minho has to fight for breath.

Even with an ivory mask covering your face, he can tell you’re a true picture of elegance. Your dress is made entirely of pure white feathers, and your mask protrudes slightly at the nose, like a beak. A swan, he thinks dazedly.

Warm, dark eyes stare into his – delicate, pure, but with a hint of fire that only increases his attraction to you.

“May I help you?”

Minho thinks he’s having a heart attack. Only that would explain his inability to breathe or think properly. Your voice only makes you more attractive.

“I apologize if I startled you, my lady.” He bows. “I could not help but notice you had no dance partner and thought that such a beauty should not only sway on the sidelines. I wonder if you would like to dance with me?”

The half-second of waiting is the most excruciating moment of Minho’s life so far. All the breath rushes out of him when you nod your head slightly and take his hand, a smile curving your lips. “I would.”

. . .

When Ryujin and the others encouraged you to go to the celebrations (read: shoved you out of the forest), you didn’t know why. Immediately you’d attempted to slip back between the trees, but Yeji’s and Jeongin’s glares were too scary.

“You’re spending all your time worrying about the curse and the forest,” Lia had explained. “We can patrol for one night. Take some time to relax at the celebrations – we’ll call you back if there is anything urgent.”

You weren’t sure at the time. But right now, clasped in the arms of a man in a green mask, you’re glad you came. You feel calm. Relaxed. His touch somehow soothes your skin and clears away the worries in your mind, leaving you with a smile on your face that is far easier and lighter than the ones you’ve been forcing recently.

It doesn’t hurt that he’s one of the most handsome men you’ve ever met. Having known Yang Jeongin, Han Jisung, and Kim Seungmin, most men you know have a lot of competition. However, even though most of his face is hidden behind his mask, you can tell your dancing partner can rival them all.

He’s ethereal. Graceful. He whirls you around in twists and turns and leaves you breathless with the utter elegance with which he moves. You haven’t danced this way in a long time, not since your uncle died. The last time you danced was on his birthday. Two days before Chan killed him.

You shove those thoughts away.

As the moon travels the night sky, you lose yourself in the dance again, in the warm brown eyes of your partner and the dizzying press of his hands against yours. Small talk and quiet laughter contrast with the raucous crowd, but you don’t care. For now, the world only consists of your partner and you.

Too soon, though, someone calls “Prince Minho!” and your partner’s expression deflates, his warm eyes dimming. “I must go now,” he says, holding your hands tightly. “You know my name now, but may I have one from you?”

“Y/N,” you reply, smiling sadly. You will likely never see the prince – Minho – again. Both because of your situation and his status.

“Will I see you again?” he asks, eyes sparkling with hope.

It breaks your heart to do it, but you shake your head. “Probably not,” you murmur. “I am not from here, and I must return to my home as soon as I can.”

There’s a little silence.

“May I at least see your face, then?” Minho finally asks. “I would like to remember the woman who so enchanted me tonight.”

You smile, bringing your hands to your mask. “If you will let me see yours.”

It seems to take an eternity for Minho to bring down his mask, but there isn’t enough time in the world to drink in the sight of his face. He’s beautiful – cat-like eyes, pink lips, a graceful nose. His features are even more enhanced by your knowledge of his ringing laugh and gentle character.

“You’re more beautiful than I ever imagined,” you whisper. A hand goes up to caress his cheek.

“I could say the same for you, my lady,” Minho says, raising a hand to cover the one you’ve placed on his face. He brings it down, holding your fingers tightly in his grasp. “If on the off chance I see you again, I hope you will remember me.” He presses a kiss to your knuckles.

You smile. “I could never forget.”

Someone calls Minho’s name again and he enters the crowd, giving you one last wave. You wave back and watch until he fully disappears into the throng.

If only you had time. If only you weren’t cursed. If only you could tell Minho yes, you would definitely see him again.

“If only,” you whisper, absently touching the place on your knuckles where his lips brushed your skin. “If only.”

. . . . .

“Has he been like this all day?” Felix asks in a stage whisper. He puts on an innocent expression when Minho turns around to shoot him an annoyed look, but it’s clear he meant for Minho to hear.

“Obviously.” Hyunjin leans against the wall, flipping through a book. “Want to know why?”

“Hwang Hyunjin, I swear to the all the stars –”

“He met a girl,” Changbin jeers, fake-swooning even as Minho throws a pen at him. He effortlessly dodges anyway, as would be expected of the head of the prince’s guard.

Memories of your gentle touch, your delicate face, and the spark of burning fire in your deep eyes flood Minho’s mind and not for the first time since your parting, Minho aches to see you again. But your voice and the despondent look on your face told him that such a meeting probably won’t happen again.

Still, though, Minho is glad he met you. Because if only for a few hours, at least, he felt completely relaxed. Free. And maybe in love.

If you’d seen her, you might understand, Changbin.

Felix gasps, as per his duties as the melodramatic younger brother. “A girl?”

Minho refuses to answer.

“But isn’t that a good thing?” Felix’s eyebrows furrow and he drops onto the seat next to Minho. “You know who you want to marry now! More or less, anyway? So Mother can stop beating you up over finding a wife?”

A deep sigh leaves Minho’s lips. That’s what he would have hoped too. But given your response from last night, he doesn’t think that will happen at all. “She lives far away from here,” he mumbles. “Said she probably couldn’t see me again. Plus, I have no idea of her social status. Mother might not even approve.”

“Maybe we can find her,” Hyunjin volunteers, closing the book. “What was her name?”

“Y/N. But don’t try to find her,” he says. “I don’t think she would take very kindly to that. We may or may not meet again. Neither of us knows.”

Silence.

“But even if you meet again, it might be too late.” Felix’s voice is unusually somber. Changbin and Hyunjin shoot him warning looks, but Minho’s far from blowing up. What Felix said is very true. He might very well have a wife picked by his parents’ hands by the time he sees you next. Assuming he ever sees you again.

Changbin’s voice is uncharacteristically gentle. “I think we need a break,” he says brusquely. “Your lessons are finished and everyone’s preparing for the celebrations tomorrow, so I don’t think we’ll be missed if we go on a hunt.” He grins.

“A hunt?” Minho echoes.

“Yes.”

“The ambassador gifted you a new bow yesterday, right? Why not try it out?” Felix’s eyes sparkle with excitement.

A small smile spreads on Minho’s face. “Why not?”

. . .

The sun has begun to sink in the sky as you circle over the lake, your maidens following behind. Soon, you’ll be human again, but you need to land before that happens so you don’t go crash-landing onto the ground.

You’ve just begun your descent onto the silvery water when Lia’s voice crashes into your mind.

Y/N, watch out!

You jerk upwards, looking behind you. Terror races through your veins when you see the huge hawk tearing through the trees.

Chan hasn’t appeared so blatantly like this in years, not since the day he cursed you into your current form. But the bird is unmistakably him – you can see it in the hatred in the hawk’s eyes.

What is he doing here? He knows he can’t kill you just yet – the magic on your uncle’s necklace will have to wear off first – so why is he here already?

Your wings flap faster and you shoot forward, spurred on by the raw terror you feel for your cousin. If there was once any affection between you two, it is now long gone.

Run, Y/N. His cruel voice echoes through your mind. Or should I say fly? That’s all you can do, isn’t it? Hide from danger instead of facing it like a true ruler?

You close your mind, the one thing you’ve learned to do perfectly since Chan left. When he first disappeared, his voice used to torment you for hours on end until your uncle taught you to shut him out. Your thoughts become blissfully empty for a moment until terror takes over again.

Greenery flashes beneath you as you soar through the trees, weaving between trunks and ducking under branches. You hear noises that suggest your maidens are attempting to help, but Chan has his own followers to fight them off.

The sun is just beginning to fade over the horizon. Heartened by the sight, you curve your path, attempting to make it back to the lake where you can defend yourself on solid ground. Your human form can do nothing in the air.

With a crow of joy, you dive down to the lake, heart beating wildly in relief as you paddle to the edge of the water. The sun finally sinks beneath the horizon, and you endure the agony of the transformation back to a human.

You hear Jisung screeching and Lia yelling. The voices of your other friends sound from various parts of the forest. You turn around to greet them but stop short when you see the man standing in front of you.

By all the stars, how could this happen?

“Minho?”

. . .

Everything happened way too quickly for Minho to process. All he knows is that he was aiming with his arrow, planning to strike down one of the birds in flight – preferably the swan, because what a prize that would have been for the castle – but he lowered his weapons, mesmerized by the bird’s grace even in the face of danger.

It reminded him of you. Pure, perfect, delicate, yet still a fighter. Fighting to survive. He couldn’t kill it.

And then the bird turned out to be you.

For now, he stands dumbstruck, staring at your perfect face.

I just watched a swan turn into a human.

Maybe if he blinks really hard, this will just be a hallucination. Maybe he fell off his horse while hunting and got knocked out and now he’s dreaming.

He blinks once, then twice. There is no doubt that it’s you. Your dress is the same. Your necklace is the same. Your warm eyes, wide with shock, are the same. So is your face.

Not a dream.

I just watched a swan turn into the girl I might have fallen in love with and it’s not a dream.

A shudder of terror and relief runs down Minho’s spine. He’s suddenly very, very glad that he did not release the arrow.

“Minho?” you whisper again, stepping slightly closer. “How… how did you get here? How did you get into the forest?”

Minho swallows hard. “I… just rode in? On my horse?”

“That shouldn’t have been possible,” you murmur, more to yourself than him. “Who…?”

Then the hawk lands and for the second time in less than five minutes, a bird transforms into a person. Minho thinks he might just faint right then and there.

This person has blond curls and skin as pale as the moon. Handsome, yes, but with a dangerously evil glint in his eye that sends fear spiking into Minho’s heart.

Your eyes turn dark. “You let him in.”

The newcomer raises his arms in a ‘what can you do?’ gesture, smiling coldly. “I might not be able to kill you yet, but a human with human weapons certainly can. I just thought it was a golden opportunity when I saw him on his horse.” His smile turns into a snarl. “But again, I overestimated how useful humans can be. Should’ve used the earthen elves.” The dark eyes lock onto Minho’s, rendering him frozen. “You were supposed to shoot her, you know.”

“Good thing I didn’t,” Minho snaps.

The cold laugh that echoes through the forest sends chills up his spine. “An amusing human. Too bad that you must die.”

“Enough.” You step in front of Minho and he’s a little ashamed to admit his relief, though it quickly turns to worry for your safety. “You brought him in here, Chan, didn’t you? So let him go. He has nothing to do with this anymore.”

“But why?” The man – Chan – cocks an eyebrow. “He knows about us now. He saw you and I transform. Shouldn’t you want him dead as well?”

“Is killing your only solution to everything?” The calmness of your voice astounds Minho, but the whiteness of your clenched knuckles gives your tension away.

“Oh, I don’t enjoy killing, cousin.” Chan smirks. “I only do it when necessary.”

And without warning, he raises an arm and a bolt of light shoots straight at Minho’s chest.

. . .

You never knew you could move so fast. All you knew in the moment was that Minho couldn’t die, not at the hands of your evil cousin.

Chan’s bolt of light strikes your shimmering shield with a crash that reverberates through the trees and sends ripples across the lake. For a terrifying second, the shield almost splits under the pressure of Chan’s power. But the knowledge that Minho will die if you don’t fight steels your mind and the shield shimmers brighter, stronger.

With a shout that’s more akin to a roar, you send the ball of light flying back at Chan. The momentary pride you feel at deflecting his attack fades quickly when you realize how drained you are. Chan, on the other hand, doesn’t even look like he’s broken a sweat.

Not fair.

“You’ve improved, I’ll give you that.” Chan smiles coldly. “We’ll see if it’s enough by next week.”

Your nails dig into your palm. “Get out of my forest.”

“It won’t be yours much longer, dear cousin. I’ll be back.” He disappears into a swirl of black.

“I don’t doubt it,” you mutter.

“Um, Y/N?” Minho’s confused voice breaks into your thoughts. “I’m sorry, but… what just happened?”

Right. Now you need to explain.

“Walk with me.” You give him an apologetic glance. “I’ll explain everything as I make my rounds.”

You thank all the heavens for Minho’s silence as you explain the situation. How your uncle chose you to rule instead of his son, Chan. How Chan came back and cursed you into your swan form but your uncle’s magic protected you enough to keep you from permanently transforming until your twenty-first birthday, which is less than two weeks away.

“You should not be here,” you say bluntly, eyes roving the trees for anything out of the ordinary. “The forest is only visible to those who live in it, unless someone shows you the way in.”

Minho nods. “That makes sense. I thought it was strange that I’d never seen this part of the forest before. Did Chan…?”

Your lips curl. “I suppose. He probably lured you here too.”

It’s a quiet night. When you and Minho fall silent, it’s as though the entire forest is waiting for one of you to speak.

“I almost released the arrow,” Minho says quietly. It takes you a moment to hear him, then another to comprehend his words. And when you realize what he means, all you can really say is “oh.”

Silence again.

“Why didn’t you?” you finally ask.

Minho shrugs. His eyes bore into yours. “The swan… as I watched you flying, it reminded me of you. Of our dance. I felt I couldn’t kill such grace.”

You feel your cheeks heat up slightly. “I see.”

“This curse…” Minho trails off, then takes your hand. “Is there any way I can help?”

If only.

“I wish you could.” You smile gently, trying to hide your own pain. “I’m afraid this is a battle between just Chan and I.”

One that he’ll probably win.

“Do you know how to defeat him? Any idea?” Minho presses.

You snort a little. “I somehow have to unlock my power. Once I find it, I should be able to overpower Chan. My uncle once told me I would be more powerful than Chan someday, but I can’t see how that could be true.”

The two of you fall silent again. Then Minho takes both of your hands in his.

“Y/N.” He forces you to look at him. “You have a reservoir of strength in you that I believe is only untapped. Once you realize your power, I have no doubt that you will be able to defeat your cousin.”

“I have less than two weeks, Minho.” You smile sadly.

Somehow, the two of you have made it through the forest and are back at the lake. Moonlight shimmers in the smooth surface and reflects onto Minho’s face, illuminating it in the night. He looks ethereal under the moon’s pale rays and your heart skips a beat.

“Don’t lose hope.” Minho smiles. “I believe in you.”

His words touch you in a way that nearly brings tears to your eyes. “Thank you,” you murmur.

“I should go now. My friends are probably worried.” Minho adjusts the bow on his shoulder. “Will… will I see you again?”

You want to say yes. You really, really want to say yes, but that could just put Minho in more harm’s way. But he already knows about the forest, and you don’t trust yourself to do a memory wipe on him.

There is a way to keep him safe.

“Yes, but wait a moment.” You remove your hand from his. “Don’t move.”

Breathing deeply, you muster your powers until the growing warmth in your heart manifests into a small, pulsating ball of magic in your hand. With a soft breath, you blow the magic onto Minho, watching as the sparkles settle and disappear into his skin.

“This will protect you from my cousin,” you tell him. “I may not be able to fight directly, but I am quite good at defensive magic. He won’t be able to easily curse you. But you must be careful not to let anyone know where you’re going and trust no one. Chan has many spies, both human and nonhuman.”

“Thank you,” Minho breathes. He reaches forward and squeezes your hand.

Bravery rushes through your veins and you kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you. For choosing not to shoot. For wanting to help.”

Minho looks slightly red under the moonlight, though he has enough sauciness left in him to press a kiss to your hand. “I will see you soon.”

The memory of his lips stays with you long after he’s disappeared.

. . . . .

Chan remains suspiciously quiet for the next few days, allowing Minho to come and go quietly. Every time you ask him if anything happened, he’s happy – but also worried – to shake his head and reassure you that he’s been fine.

The nights spent walking with you on the soft grass become the times when Minho feels the most at home in a way he could never feel in the palace. Surrounded by nature and greenery with the occasional burst of sparkling magic, a certain warmth fills Minho that he could never find in the cold, marble walls of the palace. Despite the terror he felt that first day in the forest, he finds himself grimly thanking Chan for the opportunity to come here.

For the opportunity to see you again.

Typically, Minho isn’t one to believe in romantic ideas like love at first sight. That’s more of Hyunjin’s job – whenever the guard isn’t on duty, anyone can find him in the library, reading yet another romance novel. Once, Minho took a peek at the pages. He almost threw up right then and there, and he’d teased Hyunjin for an entire week afterwards.

If Hyunjin knew what was happening right now – well, if any of his friends knew, really – they would be teasing him to no tomorrow. But Minho doesn’t care anymore. The feelings in his chest might have scared him at first, but after a week of coming to the forest, he’s ready to embrace them.

First love. Minho is sure this is what it is. He thinks about you at all times of the day, hoping that your swan form is safe from predators, praying that Chan doesn’t find some way to defeat you just yet. He lives for the times he gets to see you, glowing under the moonlit sky.

On the night of his birthday, he sneaks away from the palace and dances with you under a canopy of trees and stars, the still waters of the lake shimmering in the distance.

“I love you, Y/N,” Minho confesses that night just before he has to leave. “I know it’s only been a week, but I swear by the stars, I love you.”

Though a smile settles on your face, your eyes turn sad. You drop your gaze to his hand linked with yours. “I love you too, Minho.” You swallow hard and look up. “I really do.”

Neither of you say the words bouncing through your minds, but they hang in the air anyway, creating a thick blanket of tension that threatens to suffocate the two of you.

Minho ignores it. “Will you come to the palace next week?” he asks. His heart swells with hope. “It would be an honor to dance with you the night before my coronation.”

At that, you hang your head. “I cannot promise, Minho.”

It’s what he expected. His coronation is your birthday, and you need to break your curse before then. There was little chance, if any, that you could come. Even so, Minho feels a bit dejected. “I understand,” he forces out.

“I’m sorry.” You squeeze his hand. “If I could…”

“I know.” He presses a kiss on your cheek. “But just in case, I’ll be waiting for you.”

“On the day of, I will send a message to you.” You smile shakily. “You will know if I’m coming or not on the day.”

“So last minute,” Minho teases. “But no matter. I will wait.”

“We don’t think Chan will come into the open until that day, but all the same, I think you should avoid the forest for the next week,” you caution. “He’s been suspiciously quiet, which only means he’s planning something. I don’t want you to get caught in it.”

Minho furrows his eyebrows. He doesn’t like it – he understands the risk, but he wants to be at your side in case you’re in danger. There is little doubt in his mind that you can hold your own, at least for a while, but he wants to be there for you.

“Do you have a plan?” he asks.

You frown slightly. “He can’t hurt me until my birthday. He’s sure to remain in hiding until the day before, then strike at midnight. I will just have to be ready then.”

Minho frowns. He hates that plan. There’s so many variables and so little certainty of anything.

“I know you don’t like it.” You smile sadly. “I don’t either. I want to see you for the rest of my days. But it would kill me if you were hurt, so for my sake, please don’t come.”

“Not even tomorrow?”

“Don’t pout at me.” You reach over and straighten his lips into a line. “That’s better. And no, not even tomorrow.”

Minho attempts to smile. “If I can’t see you until my coronation, may I request one thing from you?”

“Within reason.” A bit of sparkle comes back into your eyes and Minho drinks in the sight, knowing he won’t be able to see it for at least another week.

“May I kiss you?” he breathes.

Breathlessly, he waits for your tiny nod of approval, then leans forward to slot his lips against yours. And in that kiss, he pours all of the emotions he feels for you that he could never put into words.

You sigh slightly against his lips and pull him closer. Minho feels heady with bliss at the pressure of your lips on his, the touch of your hands on his face. He holds your waist, rubbing soft circles against the feathers of your dress.

Finally, you break away for air. With pink cheeks and bright eyes, Minho thinks you look more beautiful than you ever have before.

“You should go,” you finally whisper. “It’s nearing dawn.”

Minho sighs. “I’ll wait for your answer on my coronation day. If you come, I might just give you another kiss.” He winks.

Cringing slightly, you turn away. “I guess I’m not going, then,” you mutter.

“Your smile tells me otherwise.” Minho swoops in and plants a last kiss on your cheek, then on your lips. “Good luck, my swan.”

It’s the first time he’s ever called you that. But the name slips from his mouth so easily that he knows, should he ever see you again, that that will be his name for you. His swan.

You reach up to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, my prince.”

. . . . .

One day passes without trouble. Then a second. And a third. And a fourth.

By the fifth, you’re a nervous wreck. As a swan, you flutter from tree to tree restlessly, just waiting for trouble in the form of Chan to appear. Tomorrow is the day before your birthday. Chan is sure to strike sometime then.

It’s also the night before Minho’s coronation.

You’ve decided not to go. Chan will follow you anywhere, so better you fight him in the forest than in a ballroom full of humans. Fewer deaths. Fewer casualties.

Though who knows how many of those there will be if Chan wins.

Hopelessness settles in your veins as the sun begins to set. You land on the lake, limbs heavy but head buzzing with adrenaline. Your fellow swan maidens land beside you, all peering nervously into the forest.

I have a bad feeling, Yuna murmurs.

We all do, Ryujin snaps.

You shush them.

Gliding along the lake, you wait for the sun to disappear, for night to take the place of day. So absorbed are you in the rays that you barely hear the slight whizzing of something flying by your beak.

Fly!

Immediately you flap your wings, attempting to lift off from the water. But something strikes your side and immediately you feel woozy. Wings limp, you drop back into the lake with a splash. Next to you, your maidens go limp as well.

Just as you black out, something tugs your unresisting body to shore.

. . .

Minho slips into bed, gazing out of his window at the full moon. He wonders if you’re safe, then remembers you must be. The jewel. Your necklace. You will be okay for now.

He has to believe it.

“Until tomorrow,” he whispers. Tomorrow, he will have word from you. Tomorrow.

He closes his eyes and drifts into a fitful sleep.

. . .

You wake, head throbbing and wrists tied, in a tiny room. Your five maidens lie around you in various states of wakefulness, ranging from mostly still conked out (Lia) to more or less alert (Yeji). All of you are human.

“They shot us with something,” Ryujin groans, uselessly trying to free her wrists.

You nod slowly. “Undoubtedly Chan’s work. He probably hired some of the earthen elves and their poison darts.” Your lips curl into a snarl. “Someone needs to get out of here and find Minho.”

“Right.” Chaeryeong fixes her gaze on you. “Let’s get you out.”

“No.” You shake your head. “Not me.”

Five pairs of eyes stare at you. “Why?” Yuna finally asks.

“I can’t be killed yet.” You grimly indicate the necklace against your throat. “I have one day left. If I go, Chan has no reason to keep the rest of you alive. If I stay, he does.”

“You know we would all die for you.” Yeji’s gaze, uncharacteristically serious, pins you down. The weight of her words settles on your shoulders.

“And I, you. But this isn’t the time for any of us to die.” You spit a piece of hair out of your mouth. “One of you needs to get out and alert Minho.” Your gaze turns to Lia. “You have the best sense of direction and you’re small enough to fit through that window in the corner.”

“Y/N –”

“No questions.” Steely-eyed, you stare each maiden down. “If you argue, I will command you. As your queen.”

That settles it. The four of you struggle to undo the bonds on Lia’s wrists, rubbing a rusty nail against the ropes until she’s free. She quickly tosses the rope out of the window and with a final look in your direction, she jumps out too.

You barely have enough time for a sigh of relief before the door slams open.

. . .

Minho paces his room, already fitted into his suit and crown. There’s no chance he can escape tonight – the suit will immediately give him away.

But tonight, he isn’t supposed to escape. He’s supposed to wait. For you.

The small clock in his room ticks again. He forces himself not to look – he’s been doing that for the past few hours.

You promised to send someone. So why hasn’t anyone come? Are you in trouble? Did Chan appear?

What if you’re dead?

No.

Minho shakes his head firmly. Your necklace will protect you until midnight. Chan couldn’t have killed you yet. Maybe you got sidetracked. It’s entirely possible.

Still, he wishes you would hurry.

. . .

With a final scream, your weak shield shatters. You hang your head, refusing to let Chan see the tears dripping down your cheeks.

It’s humiliating. When you turned to swans at dawn, he threw you all into cages. When you turned human again, he tied you up. You never had much pride to begin with, but it feels like half of anything you had left is gone.

You’ve failed. You can’t even keep up a simple shield to save your friends. With your hands newly tied with ropes imbued with Chan’s spells, you’re helpless against him.

Your cousin only laughs. “Pitiful.” You can hear the sneer in his voice. “I can’t understand why my father ever chose you over me.” He shakes his head, blond curls falling into his eyes. Tiredly, you think what a handsome and good man he could’ve been had he not fallen to the darkness.

“Have you ever heard that those who desire power the most are the ones who deserve it the least?” You blink the last of the tears from your eyes and look up at the person you hate the most in this world.

Chan’s eyes darken into something maniacal, something worse than evil. But despite the fear rushing through your blood, you refuse to look away.

“I deserve the forest far more than you ever did,” he snarls.

You brace yourself for the next hit and pray to the heavens that Lia made it.

. . .

Minho feels his heart dropping to his stomach as he gazes over the crowd. You’re not here. You haven’t sent any messages.

You’ve broken your promise.

Hyunjin side-eyes him. “Looking for someone?” he asks.

There’s no use hiding it. Minho nods.

Then the doors open at the top of the stairs. He looks up.

There, in a dress of pure white feathers, stands you. Your eyes catch his and you send him a shy smile.

Minho’s heart is about to beat out of his chest.

You’re here.

. . .

Lia swoops down into the palace gardens, bypassing the guards and their swords. The sun dips below the trees just as she takes shelter behind a large clump of bushes to transform.

She hopes that the dress her human form gives her is suitable for a ball.

Stealth has never been Lia’s best point, but she somehow manages to enter the palace without anyone seeing her. Once inside, she simply acts slightly wine drunk, allowing a tired guard to escort her into the ballroom.

But her sigh of relief is cut off when she realizes what’s happening at the center of the room.

Y/N?

She shakes her head. It can’t be her. How could Y/N be here, when she’s probably being tortured at this moment at Chan’s hideout?

This must be one of Chan’s tricks.

“Prince!” she screeches, shoving through the throng of people. “Prince! Prince Minho!”

He doesn’t hear her.

“PRINCE!” she screams, pushing the last person out of her way. Finally, he hears her and looks her way.

Lia’s heart drops. Something isn’t right. Minho’s eyes are slightly unfocused, and she’s never seen this dopey look on his face before. Not even after he kissed Y/N.

Enchanted.

“Lia?” Some of the dopiness melts away, replaced with confusion. “Why…?”

“Prince.” She stalks forward. “This is not Y/N. Chan sent this person as a fake. Changed their appearance. Made an illusion. I don’t know. She’s not Y/N because Y/N is being held this very minute in Chan’s hideout and you need to come with me now.”

The dopey, unfocused look comes back to Minho’s eyes. “But Y/N is right here?”

“Yes, I’m right here.” The look that the poser sends Lia is perfectly innocent, perfectly delicate, perfectly calculated.

It has to be an illusion. No human is that perfect. Least of all Y/N.

“Minho, listen to me.” A crowd has formed, but no one’s tried to stop her yet so she plows on. “This is not your real Y/N. Look at her face. Look at her eyes. She may look like Y/N but she’s an illusion. Wake up, Prince!”

The prince looks between Lia and the poser, confusion and doubt flitting over his face. Then someone grabs her arm from behind.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness. I will take her away,” a guard says over her shoulder. But Lia takes no notice, attention fixated on the dagger at the guard’s side.

She draws the blade with her free arm and the guard shouts, immediately letting her go. Ignoring the cries of fear, she aims.

“Watch, Prince.”

The dagger sails through the air right into the illusion’s chest.

Screams echo throughout the ballroom but no blood flows. The poser’s face registers shock, then blankness as her body dissolves into the air. The dagger clatters to the floor.

All the confusion clears from the prince’s eyes. His skin turns white. “Two horses,” he snaps at a shell-shocked guard. Then he turns to Lia. “Please take me to Y/N. Immediately.”

. . .

The clock in Chan’s room reads a quarter to twelve. At least, that’s what you think it reads. It’s hard to see through the sweat and blood dripping into your eyes.

Fifteen minutes or less. That’s all you have. The hope that Lia will come back starts to fade away.

“Why don’t you just kill me now, cousin?” You spit blood out of your mouth, wishing your friends were still here to bolster your confidence. Chan threw them back into the room after they made too loud a ruckus. But the sounds of them still banging against the door give you a little more strength.

Chan smiles easily, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you. It’s almost like you two are children again, sitting across from each other and playing games.

Then another drop of sweat stings in your eye and you get rid of any illusions of childhood.

“Oh, Y/N, you always knew I was bad with human weapons.” He laughs coldly. “And they’re all made of iron, you know? Wouldn’t want to burn myself.”

You spit in his face. “If you can’t kill me from this short range with a human weapon, I don’t know if you’re really strong enough to be a king. And I’m sure you could come up with a spell to protect your precious skin, if you’re as capable and powerful as you say.”

“Yet another reason why you shouldn’t rule,” Chan tuts, carelessly wiping away your bloodied spit. He hooks a hand under your chin, pulling your face closer. He tuts again, mockingly. “You were always the snippier one of us two.”

“Get off me!” You wrench your face away from his grasp. The lingering feeling of his hand on your chin makes your skin crawl.

“As you wish.” He smirks. “But as such, I think I’ll stick with watching you die slowly. It’s what you deserve, isn’t it? A human weapon wouldn’t provide as much pain. And who knows?” His grin grows wider. “Maybe, come dawn, I’ll make swan soup and feed it to the dogs.”

Fury blinds your vision and you open your mouth to scream –

And then the door bursts open.

. . .

The shock that blinds Minho at the sight of your bloodied figure nearly kills him. Literally. Had Lia not pulled him away, the blast of light would have killed him.

“Come to join the party?” Chan asks, looking as unruffled and terrifying as ever. He glances at a clock in the corner. “You have seven minutes left to say goodbye to your precious queen.”

Enraged, Minho draws a dagger from his belt and sends it flying at Chan. He doesn’t even blink an eye – with a flick of his hand, the blade dissolves into the air in front of him.

“I knew there was one of you missing.” Chan casts a disdainful look at Lia. “No matter.” He fixes his gaze on Minho. “So you figured out my little illusion, didn’t you? You should’ve stayed with her. The real thing isn’t as pretty, is she?” He jerks his head at you.

Rage fills Minho’s vision and he nearly leaps at Chan. But your voice cuts in.

“Stop.”

All the attention turns back to you.

You spit blood out of your mouth. “Isn’t your fight with me, Chan?” A ghost of a smile plays on your lips. “Why don’t you release these bonds and have us a fair battle?”

Minho wants to scream for you to shut up.

“A good suggestion, dear Y/N.” Chan pretends to think, then shakes his head. “But I’d prefer to watch you break first.”

“No showing of skill? No proving you are fit to rule?” Your eyes flit to the clock and Minho looks too, against his will.

Two minutes.

Chan grins, but Minho can see the repressed anger in his eyes. “I already know I am fit to rule.”

“Then are you afraid that I will find my strength and kill you first?” You tsk. “Coward.”

“What you call cowardice is what I call a strategy.” The smile turns animalistic as Chan directs it at him. “Say goodbye to your lover, dear cousin.”

A flash of light burns out of Chan’s palm, directed straight at Minho’s chest.

. . .

Chan has never seen anyone move so quickly. Much less if they were bound by magic ropes.

His magic ropes. The ropes imbued with the strength of every creature he’s killed.

And you…

You broke them.

His eyes widen as he takes in your outstretched hands, free of bindings, creating a shield. A shield that glows with more power than he’s ever seen you conjure.

The light fizzles from his palm. And as your darkened, furious eyes lock with Chan’s, he feels an unfamiliar emotion. So unfamiliar that he’s almost forgotten its name.

As the clock behind him chimes the hour, Chan does not gloat. Chan does not laugh.

For the first time in years, Chan feels fear.

. . .

How did I do that?

You stare at your outstretched hands and the shield of light they’ve created. Ragged breaths leave your lips but to your surprise, you don’t feel tired. There is no exhaustion. If anything, you feel exhilarated.

The clock chimes. Midnight.

You lock eyes with your cousin. For once, he seems to have nothing to say.

“Anything to say, Chan?” you snarl. You kick one of the torn ropes at your feet and he flinches. “Anything at all?”

“… How?” he finally whispers.

For a moment, you find yourself wondering the same thing. How could you have done this? How did you break from Chan’s bonds? How did you manage to surpass his power?

Your uncle’s words echo through your mind.

“You have an ability that Chan does not. For this reason, you are more powerful than Chan will ever be. But you must unlock that power yourself.”

And suddenly, you understand. You understand how you moved so quickly that first day you protected Minho. You understand how you withstood Chan’s torture for so long while waiting for Lia. You understand the magic your uncle left in the gem that rests against your throat.

You understand the magic that led you to break Chan’s bonds and protect the people you love the most in the world.

“My uncle – your father – once told me I had an ability you do not. And because of that, he told me I had more power than you would ever have.” Your words are slow, calculated, but for once, there is no race against time. There are five hours until dawn – plenty of time before your final transformation.

And with a little luck, that transformation will never happen.

“That day, he gave me this necklace to protect me.” You grasp the gem around your neck. “He told me it had a magic in it as old as time, and that you would never be able to overcome it before my twenty-first birthday. So I suppose it no longer works.” Slowly, you unclasp the chain from your neck, clutching the gem in your hand. “But I don’t suppose I need it anymore.”

No one speaks.

“How, you ask?” You step forward, and for once, Chan steps back. “I’ve found my power. It is a power far older, far stronger than your dark arts. Would you like to hear about it?”

Chan swallows, attempting a look of defiance. You wish you could tell him how stupid it looks.

“It is a magic as vast as the stars,” you whisper. “It is a magic as old as time. It is the power to feel a heartbeat from across the room. It is the power to speak volumes without a sound, without a word.”

You step forward.

“It is the power to protect.”

Another step.

“It is the power to love.”

As you stare into his eyes, real fear flashes over Chan’s face. But you take no pleasure in it, only feel sorrow that your cousin will never be able to feel as deeply as you.

In a movement as smooth as water, you grasp Chan’s arm with a strength you never thought you had. Your other hand presses against his chest.

“I’m sorry, cousin.”

Your power drives deep into his heart.

. . . . .

Minho’s parents were unsure of the union at first, especially since they found you in the same sorry state that Chan’s torture left you. But Minho had refused to let you return to the forest and practically forced you and your maidens into the castle to help you clean up and heal. Upon your request, he brought Jisung, Jeongin, and Seungmin over as well. Once the tattered dress of feathers was gone, your cuts and scrapes cleaned, and Minho had informed them of your magic and your status as queen, his parents became more receptive.

You sit in the front row at Minho’s coronation, your former swan maidens at your side. Pride fills your heart as you watch the priest crown your love, hand him the royal sword and scepter, and repeat the oath his father took so many years prior.

That day, you don’t dance with him, as per the doctor’s orders. But Minho stays by your side throughout the ensuing ball, only leaving for several ceremonial dances that he pouts the whole way through. But, as you remind him, “there will be many more dances together after we marry.”

And marry you do. All of your forest friends come to the ceremony, watch you walk down the aisle in a white gown devoid of feathers to recite your vows to the king.

(Jisung, Felix, Jeongin, and the girls all openly cry into each other’s arms. Seungmin, Changbin, and Hyunjin refuse to admit their tears but everyone can see through them anyway.)

The kiss that day is like your first, minus the sadness. Your hands cup his face while his rest lightly against your waist. Minho’s lips press against yours with a gentle insistence that you eagerly give in to, his fingers brushing softly against the fabric of your dress.

The festivities last until midnight, when you’re finally allowed to retire to your room in the palace. Minho finds you on the balcony, staring down at the throngs of celebrating citizens.

Weeks ago, you were terrified of turning twenty-one. You were terrified of the inevitable change and the inevitable death sentence that age would bring.

Now, you think that turning twenty-one wasn’t the worst thing you’ve done in your life.

“What are you thinking of, my swan?” Minho presses a kiss against your neck.

You smile. “Just… I don’t know. Turning twenty-one seemed so terrifying a few weeks ago. Now...”

“Ah.” Minho nods. “You know, I dreaded that age too.”

“No kidding.” You raise an eyebrow.

“I was terrified of losing my freedom, of being forced to marry someone I didn’t love and being forced to stay with them for the rest of my life.” Minho squeezes your hand. “But you know, it doesn’t seem too bad now.”

A snort bursts from your lips. “That’s an understatement,” you laugh, turning back to the scene beyond the balcony. There’s a little silence.

“What are you thinking of now?” Minho whispers.

The smile on your face grows wider. “The day we first met.”

“Oh, yes.” Minho turns you around to face him again. “I think I knew then and there that I was going to fall in love with you, you know.”

Shyly, you look down. “I think I knew too.”

He tilts your chin back up and presses a light kiss on your lips. “I love you, Y/N.”

One hand reaches up to rub the gem resting at your throat. Your uncle’s necklace still sparkles around your neck as a reminder of the duties you still have in the forest, but also as a reminder of the immense power he always knew you had. The power of that single, simple word.

Love.

You smile, dropping the gem to rest your arms around Minho’s neck. He smiles down at you with passion in his eyes and happiness on his lips.

“I love you too.”

#inkidz #stray kids #skz #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #danceracha #minho #fluff #angst #violence #death #royalty!au #fantasy!au #stray kids minho scenarios #dawn #scriptura-delirus

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jacepens · 3 years

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Hi I see that you're taking requests so if you're not too busy, I got something for you: do you remember the Assassin's Creed thing that Tyranny of King Washington game? Yeah, so a tyrant King George Washington AU but also involving Lafayette as like a French prince or something who is placed in an arranged marriage with George?? And like Lafayette is slowly goes corrupt like his husband and they're soon like this completely sexy evil power couple kinda deal?? Thank you!

Anon how dare you know my heart so well!! I recently played Assassins Creed III and the Tyranny of King Washington. I don’t know if you know the story behind it, because this is definitely based off the game but hooo boy this is incredible. Thank you so so much for giving me an excuse to rant about this. Because oh my god I adored playing Tyranny. (And making fun of King Washington.)

Real quick: for those who don’t know the game (which might also be you anon, I don't know) the reason that in the Tyranny of King Washington, Washington goes absolutely insane with power, is because he’s got an Apple of Eden which is an Assassin’s Creed thing that’s basically an old godly relic that is extremely manipulative and powerful. But anyway, here is your little story that I had way too much fun with :)

EDIT: I just added a few morbid details to some of the things Lafayette asked for because I felt they were quite important to see. So you know, if you read this before you saw those details, I’d recommend you at least glance at it again;). EDIT 2: ok ok sorry to be so indecisive but there is now just a dash more sexy at the very end.

Spoiled Rotten to the Core

A burst of golden light was all it took to bring men to their knees. Was all it took to conjure visions, control minds, bring entire countries to their knees.

King Washington. The name alone made anger rise hot in his chest, made him remember and grieve all the things that name stole from him.

Being Prince of France in a war-shaken world made everything he’d ever dealt with before feel like nothing.

No one was powerful enough to stop him. Hundreds, thousands, tried and they all ended up in the same place. Six feet underground—if they were lucky, that is. He’d read it was quite common for decaying bodies to be left strewn about the American countryside with no respect for life or death. It was despicable.

But then, King Washington made Lafayette an offer he would be a fool to refuse.

Famine, war, destruction, plague—it all weighed heavy on Lafayette’s mind. He had done everything he could to secure his country alongside his father, the King. They were one of the few countries still standing that had not fallen to the plague of America, and they were one of the world’s last beacons of hope.

King Washington, who seemed to live on another plane of existence entirely, descended upon their country with fury and destruction in his eye.

Lafayette hunkered down, sobbing and waiting for the worst to be over knowing that they were done—they were finished!

Miraculously, they were still standing at days end.

And then King Washington promised his country could continue to thrive and be sovereign and independent from America—all he had to do was marry him.

Before Lafayette was able to make the choice for himself, his father was already throwing him on a boat and carting him off to the capital of Washington’s new world. New York City.

Washington’s palace was a grand threat looming over the shore. And Lafayette’s heart was caught in his throat.

When the boat docked, the area became flooded with eager people, so tightly packed together nothing could break through.

Lafayette was paraded through the city like a prize. Their new King! They cried, weeping tears of joy, but Lafayette wondered if those tears were not of joy but of sorrow.

Lafayette was granted permission inside that grand structure they called the palace with a blindfold over his eyes. It was yanked off once he was inside and he was allowed to gawp at the sheer opulence and magnificence of the interior. The exterior may have looked like a threatening symbol, but inside? Why it made Lafayette’s heart soar in a very particular way. A way that his heart craved to feel again.

Meeting King Washington was a strange experience. Just like the feeling he got in the palace, he felt the same way about Washington. Cool, stoic, and wearing decadent clothes only worthy of a King.

He gripped his scepter that brimmed with power, and Lafayette was drawn towards it. He craved that gentle golden light that King Washington possessed, craved the power he gained. Worst of all, he craved Washington.

When he gripped his chin and stared into his eyes, as if he was inspecting a piece of fine china, Lafayette felt an unfamiliar sensation shudder through him. Would he disappoint? Washington left without a single word being said, and Lafayette felt traitorously like he wanted to scream and demand he come back that instant.

He was laid to rest in the comfiest of beds and surrounded by the hundreds of beautiful things that had caught King Washington’s interest over his years as ruler.

Was that all Lafayette was to him? He wondered with growing sickness. A beautiful Prince that happened to gain his interest? Interest already so quickly moved on.

Their wedding was lavish and a display of pure opulence. Lafayette was gifted a grand new ensemble to get married in, and dozens of new outfits to show his station as King. King Lafayette.

A crown was placed upon his head and the crowd chanted his name, thousands of people from below. Lafayette was overcome with adoration for the people below, and the way he understood he could now control them.

He laid in bed with Washington that night, unused to seeing him in such an informal air. The only thing exchanged was a few kisses before Washington suddenly screamed and shouted that he needed to leave at once. He saw that possessive glimmer in his eye, all for that damn scepter, and Lafayette left him to go back to his own room.

He was disappointed to say the least.

As months with Washington wore on, Lafayette understood more and more that he really was there to serve as some sort of pretty pet. But one that Washington readily spoiled.

All it took was Lafayette pressing a few kisses to his lips, and whatever he wished for was his.

He wished for many things as the boredom grew. He wished for paintings and artifacts from across the world, new animals to be displayed in the zoo, and even a little poodle to try and take the loneliness away. As his boredom and curiosity grew, he began demanding more unique experiences. What possessed him to do so, he wasn’t sure. When he asked George for a traitor to slaughter, so he could revel in the sight of their sickly blood slowly draining out them by Lafayette’s almighty sword. When he asked, begged, pleaded if he might throw them in the tigers den just to see what might happen. The angry thought burned in his heart—it was what traitors to King Washington deserved.

Until it dawned on him heavily one day that there was only one thing in the entire world that could make him happy. Two things, perhaps.

The power, and the one who wielded it.

He smiled as he entered the throne room to see King Washington, quickly turned to look at him, a little smirk dazzling his face. Lafayette quickly set himself down in Washington's lap, as he knew he so enjoyed, and quietly pressed kisses to his cheek and down his neck.

It was strange, the way he enjoyed him. They hardly ever exchanged a word together and yet here Lafayette was, working to earn his affections. His arm encircled around his waist and Lafayette sighed and shifted closer.

“You want something else, don’t you?” Washington purred, suddenly bringing his lips to Lafayette’s neck.

He let out a gasp, “Only your affections, my highness.”

“Ah, but you earned that long ago.”

“Did I really?” Lafayette giggled, pressing his nose to Washington’s, “Because it’s my understanding that husbands who love each other are supposed to share.”

Washington roared, suddenly shoving Lafayette back, but Lafayette held firm to his throne. “You dare.” He hissed, unmistakable anger coursing through him.

“Don’t you see it, my highness?” Lafayette dropped to his knees before him, “you chose me for a reason. Two is better than one, don’t you agree?” He hummed, dragging his palms and digging his fingernails up Washington’s thighs. He continued to fume above him, but Lafayette could practically hear that resolve chipping away, could hear a faint humming his ears. “Ah, do you hear it? Bring it out, show me that golden apple and it will show you just how much you need me.” He whined.

He watched with anticipation, could see it like a shivering line around Washington as he reached and pulled the apple from it’s scepter. Lafayette sat up, trying to press forward, his heart hammering loudly, seconds away from everything he could ever dream of—.

He began weeping as Washington pressed it into his palm, tears rolling down his cheeks as his eyes were opened to the knowledge of the universe. He saw strange men with godly powers crushed by this apple, he witnessed entire galaxies being birthed just with the tap of a finger, he saw the way into every person’s heart, he felt every weakness suddenly overwhelm and consume him before he could begin to breath fresh air again.

King Washington took the apple from his hand, and brought him up into his lap again. Lafayette grinned, a sickly dark and previously unknown grin to his face. His fingertips brimmed with power that he could feel rushing through his veins. He saw the way to destruction, a clear path ahead of him with Washington at his side.

“You are beautiful, you know.” He heard Washington growl in his ear, breath hot.

Lafayette hummed and then leered, mind overflowing with new ideas. “Then allow your beautiful King to show you his gratitude for granting him such a gift.” He purred, sliding back down to his knees.

This world was not yet the last they would conquer.

#prompts #hats off to you if you caught my reference to Connor #ahhh but for real I love love love this idea #like thank you so much #whoever you are mysterious anon #washette #hamilton #sue me but I’m tagging this as hamilton and turn #turn: washington's spies #because Lafayette wasn’t in tyranny it’s fine!!#I don’t need the ac fandom rolling in here wondering what the fuck is going on XD #snippet

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notanacousticsetcal · 4 years

Text

girl crush (lrh) - chapter one

request - nope! but my requests are now open.

summary - luke is 19 and 5sos is at the top of their game. daisy harlow is a solo artist becoming more popular by the day. daisy and luke “date” for publicity but some real feelings start to spark during their forced time together. the only problem? luke has a girlfriend.

warnings - brief mention of an abusive father, not great relationship with her mom either, mentions of lonliness and she’s just kind of in pain? some anxiety.

word count - 1.7k

a/n - i’m planning on making this long so it might permanently move to wattpad for updating but i’ll let y’all know. also, its not clarified in this chapter but daisy’s mom is native hawaiian (polynesian).

My platform boots clack against the hardwood floors as I make my way to the stool perched center stage, a microphone resting expectantly atop it. I mentally curse myself for not touching my manicure up before the show as I stare anxiously down at my chipped nailpolish. I ring my fingers out before grabbing the mic and sitting down. I cross my legs and get comfortable as I wait for the musicians to get situated around me. It’s so quiet, you can hear the quiet chatter among bystanders in the hall. I stare at the ground uncomfortably. No matter how many times I perform, every single time without fail my hands shake and my mind races with the what-ifs. What if I mess up the lyrics and the band can’t follow me? What if I don’t take enough breaths and get all choked up? What if my voice cracks? What if I can’t hit the high notes? But once the melancholy guitar kicks in, I’m whisked away in the same chords I strummed that night on my apartment floor. The notes were a lot more choppy when I was playing them, my teary eyes obstructing my view.

“Trying not to hold dear to my safety.”

My hands shake. I think about my father’s face twisting in anger. I wondered what I had done this time. It was always something. That house was never a home. It was sewn together by my screams and my father’s bitter resentment. Things built on fragility crumble quickly.

“Prisoner to my miracles, save me.”

I’m transported back to those stupid commercials. My mother dragged me all around Hollywood, passing me script after script. ‘Chin up, tamarii,’ she would say. ‘Smile big for the men in suits.’ When she found out I could sing, I was never allowed to close my mouth again. Whatever made her money. Whatever got her away from my father. At whatever cost to me.

“From the roof that I built myself, gave me.”

The day she left, so did I. Do you grieve for someone who is supposed to put you above all else? Whose job it is to keep you safe, but who fails? I left and I didn’t spare a second glance to that rickety old house. The last one on the right with the peeling yellow siding and splintered red door. The one that kept me safe and dry from the storms outside, but never the storms inside me. Or the storms inside my father.

Everything I have now, I made myself. My mom took every cent she used me for with her, but she couldn’t take my music. And she didn’t take me.

“Only thing that I didn’t want more of was the feeling I couldn’t escape it.”

Physically, I would never have to see them again. So why wouldn’t they leave me alone? Not even my thoughts were safe.

“Waiting tables at a minute complaining that the phone would start ringing.”

Six months ago, I was waiting tables at Rico’s wondering when I could support myself doing what I love. Part of me wishes I could go back to the simplicity. I’ve never felt more alone than I do now.

“But lately, my soul’s looking for a better way to deal with all the little changes that keep freaking me out. Wouldn’t hurt to figure out a better way of imitating so I don’t let me down. Sitting in the middle of a city with a million strangers and it's getting too loud.”

I let my voice express the emotion I’m feeling. Living in LA on my own has been a lot lonelier and colder than I expected. And what if this whole thing doesn’t work out? What if by tomorrow nobody likes me anymore? But above all, the person I’m most worried about disappointing is myself. Maybe because I’m all I have left.

“Wouldn't hurt to figure out a better way of imitating so I don’t let me down.

So I don’t let me down.

Got no time to be overthinking. Can’t let thoughts in my head beat the demons that wanna drive me away for believing in the things that I was so sure of.

Had to lie, end the fight, be my savior.

Emphasizing the light to my failures ‘cause it's not black or white in its nature.

When the plane lands I’m still looking for a better way to deal with all the little changes that keep freaking me out.

Wouldn’t hurt to figure out a better way of imitating so I don’t let me down. Sitting in the middle of a city with a million strangers and it's getting too loud.

Wouldn’t hurt to figure out a better way of imitating so I don’t let me down…

Cause I keep thinking when the sun gets better, I’ll be dancing on my fears from yesterday…

And no, I can’t keep thinking when the sun gets better, I’ll be dancing on my fears from yesterday. Cause I’m still looking for a better way to deal with all the little changes that keep freaking me out.

Wouldn’t hurt to figure out a better way of imitating.

So I don’t let me down.”

The last note carries for a moment more as I open my eyes to the small crowd in front of me. They applaud loudly, turning off the flashlights I didn’t notice they had on. I smile as they cheer, laughing at their unexpected enthusiastic nature. With that, the band begins to pack up and I stand to shake their hands, mine no longer trembling but instead, steady as a rock.

I walk off stage, reveling slightly in this short burst of confidence I get after performing. I’m led to a back room with TVs tuned in to the show. A commercial for OxyClean is playing. I miss Billy Mays. My manager is sitting on the couch with some middle aged man with a scruffy beard and a baseball cap. Once I catch her eye, she waves me over excitedly. “Daisy! Babes, come here. Got some exciting news.” Mariah pats a spot on the sofa next to her and I sit on the plush red material.

“What’s up?” I ask hesitantly. I love Mariah to death -- the woman treats me like her own -- but she can be a little out there. I’ve had to turn down her extravagant ideas on more than one occasion. Once, she wanted me to perform while hooked into a harness, flying over the fans. Sounds more like something Gaga would do (and rock it), but it's just not me.

Her signature red velvet lipstick is painted pristinely across her lips, per usual. She smiles warmly at me. “This kind man is Mr. Wilson. He’s the manager of a band called 5 Seconds of Summer! I’m sure you’ve heard of them, right doll?” She blinks at me expectantly and I smile politely.

“Of course. I’ve heard some of their stuff. They’re great.” Mariah giggles excitedly.

“I’m so glad you think that, Daisy. Jack and I -- excuse me -- Mr. Wilson and I have been talking for a few weeks now about maybe arranging something between you.” Her expression turns nervous.

“What do you mean? Like a collaboration? Well, their stuff tends to have more of a punk edge, but--” Mariah cuts in, waving her hands dismissively.

“No, no, not a collaboration. Though that might not be a bad idea for the future,” Mariah raises her brows, nudging Mr. Wilson with her shoulder. “We were thinking something more like hanging out with them. Particularly… the lead singer Luke.” She looks apprehensive, like she suspects I might not like this suggestion.

“By hangout… you don’t mean as friends. Do you?” My tone is extremely unamused. I begin to stand, sick of Mariah’s insane ideas. “Mariah, I can’t deal with--” Mariah tugs me back down by my sleeve.

“Daisy, please hear us out,” she pleads. “You won’t have to even see him in private. Everything will be for the paps. For publicity. Both you and the 5sos boys are releasing new music and… well, Mr. Wilson and I have an inkling that this little stunt might be really good for sales.” Mariah nudges me suggestively and places a hand on my knee. “Look, sweetie. I know this isn’t your kind of thing, but you know Mama Riah is always looking out for you. It’ll only be a 2 month thing. A little fling!” I gasp audibly and push Mariah’s hand off my knee.

I shake my head. “2 months? I thought we were talking a few pictures together max! Mariah, I love you but you’re insane.”

“Daisy, please think about this. 2 months of your life. That’s it. We’ll make it look like you're an item, but short and sweet. We’ll make the break up messy. Lots of news coverage just in time for your new single and the boys’ new album. It's genius!” She grabs both of my shoulders, shaking me with every syllable. I sigh, defeated. She was really fighting for this. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. A few extra sales for a couple months with some random boy. Sounds manageable.

Mariah could see me mulling it over in my head. Her shoulders tensed, awaiting my response. “Alright, alright. I’ll do it.” She squeals in excitement, throwing her arms around me and pulling me into a tight hug. I struggled to breathe through her poofy curls and choke a little on her intoxicating fruity perfume. She pulls away and takes my face between her hands, careful not to claw me with her long, red nails. “This is gonna be fantastic, Daisy, you just wait.” She gives one more excited squeal and turns to Mr. Wilson. While they chat excitedly, I slump back into the soft, velvet couch, losing myself in the oversized cushions.

The show came back from commercial break and I watch as the next musical guests take the stage. A boy with multicolored fringe straps a guitar over his body while the boy behind him sits himself at the drum kit. Another boy with dark hair walks out with a bass hanging from his shoulders. The last boy to take the stage makes his way up to the mic stand, pulling a pick from it. He slings his guitar comfortably over his shoulders and turns to converse with his bandmates. That blonde is Luke Hemmings.

Boy, am I in for it because he is gorgeous.

#luke hemmings #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings fluff #luke hemmings imagines #luke hemmings x reader #luke #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos imagines #5sos x reader #5sos x you #calum 5sos #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of smut #5 second of summer imagines #calum 5 seconds of summer #luke 5 seconds of summer #michael clifford #ashton 5sos

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talistheintrovert · 4 years

Text

time trips and tenderness

@starlightafterastorm asked for a “little Bellarke timey-wimey time travel story” and honestly that’s like catnip to me, so here you are my dear! The anomaly accidentally throws together dropship bellamy and clarke and s6/7 bellamy and clarke, in front of everyone (bring out your popcorn kids)

read it under the cut or on ao3!

***

Clarke wasn’t sure what happened.

One minute she was walking through Sanctum on her way to meet Madi after school, the next her foot stepped into nothing and she was falling, hard. She landed in a cloud of dust and wisps of material, and she coughed as she pushed herself back up on her knees. “Clarke?!” She lifted her head. She had fallen through some kind of hidden trapdoor into a secret room, clearly well out of use, and her fingers had snagged a sheet as she went down, dragging it off a large machine against one wall. A few heads began to appear over the trapdoor as Bellamy called her name again, and she looked up. “I’m okay,” she reassured him, getting to her feet and dusting off her pants. She narrowed her eyes over at the contraption; it had symbols carved all over it like the anomaly and levers along one side. “What are you?” Clarke muttered to herself as she approached it. There was a series of dull thuds behind her and she turned to find Bellamy, Gabriel, Murphy and Miller had all jumped down into the room after her. “Cute,” Murphy deadpanned.

“I was wondering where this went,” Gabriel said, brushing the last of the flimsy cover off the machine. “Russell must have hidden it after I left.”

“What is it?” Miller asked. “It was supposed to be able to figure out what the anomaly did by harnessing it, but I could never get it quite right. It could take a snapshot of the wave but the readings were all over the place; it was incomprehensible. I managed to capture what I thought was part of the anomaly inside this-” he rapped his knuckles against the glass box in the center of it, “-but once the wave disappeared, so did whatever was in here. And then I never got to try it again, for obvious reasons. I had to make do outside of Sanctum, I figured Russell had destroyed this one.” Clarke felt Bellamy’s hand come up against her side, and she glanced at him, seeing the concern in his face as he looked her over, checking for injuries. She wanted to tell him she was fine, but she couldn’t help but savour the feeling of his palm against her waist. It was pathetic, really, what she’d been reduced to - gasping for every tiny morsel of physical affection she could get. She opened her mouth to say something, but caught herself when she saw something flickering behind the glass in the machine. It was small, but she was sure she saw a lick of green flame. “Is that…” she stepped forward. “I think there’s something in there.” “Unlikely,” Gabriel started to say, right before the entire cavern lit up with green as the flame burst into life inside the box and the machine started on its own. “Holy shit,” Murphy vocalised what they were all thinking. “What the hell?” Gabriel shook his head. “That shouldn’t be possible.” And then the light flashed, filling up the entire room and blinding them all. Something slammed into Clarke’s shoulder and she would have hit the ground again if it weren’t for a pair of strong arms catching her. There were clatters and shouts and then the light faded and Clarke blinked the vision back into her eyes. She squinted, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. The light must have screwed with her head, because there was no way the scene before her was actually happening. Except- “Clarke?” Bellamy asked, taking a step towards her, confused. But he didn’t look right; he was younger, clean-shaven, and she remembered the clothes he was wearing but she hadn’t seen them in years. The figure at her back tensed, and she looked up to see Bellamy - her Bellamy - frowning warily at the figure before them. He opened his mouth, “What-” “Why are there two of us?” Another voice said, and Clarke turned her head to stare directly into her own face. She was younger, hair longer, wearing a shirt that Clarke missed. She tilted her head. “You cut your hair.” “Yeah. A while ago,” she replied, unable to think of anything else. “I don’t like it.” “I do,” Young Bellamy remarked, eyes raking over her. “Suits you, Princess.” Bellamy’s grip tightened instinctively on Clarke’s shoulder at the old nickname, and he snapped his fingers at his young self. “Hey! Jackass! Eyes up here.” Young Bellamy smirked, but dragged his gaze up, raising an eyebrow at himself. “I got old.” “Fuck off.” “Real mature,” Young Clarke rolled her eyes. “I see you haven’t changed.” Clarke couldn’t help but laugh incredulously at the idea. Gabriel and Murphy were getting to their feet behind them, and Miller was standing to the side staring widely. She wondered how young these versions of themselves were - it was definitely the dropship days, but it had to be early. There was no way she would be automatically irate at Bellamy after the Day Trip, so it must have been before that. “Where are we?” Young Bellamy asked, taking in the tiny room and the hole in the ceiling. “When are we?” Young Clarke corrected. Gabriel lifted a hand, “It’s probably better you don’t know that. We don’t know how the Anomaly works; we should mess with it.” “Didn’t Octavia’s memory get wiped when she returned?” Miller asked. “Well, yeah, but-” “So you’re in the future, we’re on a different planet, and you two are in love but neither of you have done anything about it which drives the rest of us fucking insane,” he explained loudly, before anyone could jump in and stop him. Clarke felt Bellamy’s hand on her shoulder loosen, like he wasn’t sure what to do with those words out in the open, and she became hyper aware of every part of her body that was touching his; wanting to move away but frozen to the spot. Young Bellamy snorted. “Not likely.” “How did we get here?” Young Clarke asked, completely sidestepping the other revelation. “There’s an Anomaly on this planet that messes with time,” Gabriel chimed in, resigned to the fact that they were going to know regardless of his protests. “I built a machine to harness it and somehow it spat you both out.” “Why us?” she made a face, looking over at Young Bellamy with distaste. “Didn’t you hear, Princess, we’re in love,” he replied, raising his eyebrows at her in that cocky way that used to drive her crazy. She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.” “Hey, Future Miller said so,” he shrugged, clearly amused by her annoyance. Young Clarke rounded on their older selves. “He’s joking, right? You’re not really in love?” Clarke opened her mouth but nothing came out, and she could feel Bellamy shifting his weight behind her, also staunchly refusing to say anything to break a silence that was becoming steadily more awkward. Young Clarke faltered, and the amusement fell off Young Bellamy’s face. “You’re not serious?” he asked, incredulous. “Oh my god this is better than Christmas,” Murphy grinned. “Shut up, Murphy,” Clarke and Bellamy said in unison. Young Bellamy’s gaze cut across to him, curious, and Murphy lazily saluted, leaning against the wall. “Still following Bellamy’s orders, I see,” Young Clarke remarked. Murphy snorted. “You hear that, Bellamy? She thinks I’m a lackey.” “No, I think you’re a dick,” she snapped, eyes narrowing at him. “You shove around the younger kids and you picked a fight with Wells.” Clarke felt the breath catch in her throat. She was talking in the present tense, which meant that these versions of themselves were from before Wells died, and she wanted to cry at what they were still yet to go through. At all the horrible things headed their way. Bellamy seemed to come to the same conclusion, and his arm slid down her arm soothingly, stroking between her shoulder and her elbow. To his credit, Murphy’s attitude sobered somewhat, and he shrugged. “Yeah, I was an asshole back then. But I like to think I’ve done enough to make up for it by now.” “Give it another year,” Clarke joked, trying to push down the tears that threatened to fall. Murphy noticed her expression and huffed, walking forward to hook an arm around her and pull her into a bony hug. “Anything for the Princess.” She managed a watery laugh into his shirt before she pulled away, and he pinched her side. “Don’t you get crying on me now, you know I’m bad at dealing with that.” “Shut up, Murphy,” she repeated, but there was a smile in her voice. “Wow,” Young Clarke said slowly. “You weren’t kidding. I’m friends with you?” “Don’t push it,” he winked. “Sexually charged acquaintances at best.” “You’re disgusting,” she muttered. “No arguments here,” he flashed a grin. “Anyway, it’s nice to catch up and all, but now that they’re here, how do we send them back?” Everyone turned to look at Gabriel. He held up his hands. “I have no idea. All I know is we can’t let them leave this room, because even if the Anomaly wipes their memories, if everyone else sees them, then people might try to use this machine for the worst. The second they return to where they came from, I’m destroying it. In the wrong hands, this could be a weapon of mass destruction.” “So we just have to… sit here?” Young Bellamy asked, already looking restless. “Until the wave returns, yes.” “Great,” Young Clarke said sarcastically, pointedly not looking at either of the Bellamys. A heavy silence fell over the room, no-one willing to permeate it. Gabriel was scrutinising the machine, attempting to appear oblivious to the awkwardness, while Murphy and Miller were just staring between the two sets of their friends like it was a tennis match, waiting for someone to volley first. Bellamy’s hand had long since stopped moving, clasped loosely around Clarke’s elbow, and she was watching Young Bellamy as he tried to maintain that cocky bravado she remembered finding so annoying. Young Clarke just folded her arms and glared at the hole in the ceiling. “Well, this is fun,” Miller deadpanned. Young Clarke huffed. “I just don’t see how we would ever become… that.” She gestured at her older self and Bellamy dismissively. “It doesn’t make sense.” “It’s been a long time since the Dropship,” Clarke said quietly. “But still; Bellamy? I thought I had better taste,” she turned up her nose, and Clarke noticed the way Young Bellamy’s gaze flitted across to her, amused. Even back then, he didn’t hate her as much as she thought he did. And she remembered those days - she hadn’t hated him as much as she wanted him to think either. “I’m wounded, Princess,” Young Bellamy teased, clutching his chest like he’d been hit. “I thought we had something.” “Was I really that arrogant?” Bellamy asked, sounding bothered. Miller choked on air. “God, remember the arguments we used to have?” Clarke said wistfully. “I miss those.” “Yeah,” he agreed, shaking his head. “Things were so simple. We only had to worry about a hundred delinquents, not the world ending. Fuck, I miss all of it, how sad is that?” “Pretty pathetic,” Murphy chimed in. Bellamy’s hand was still on Clarke’s arm, and Young Clarke noticed, raising her eyebrow at them. “When did this happen? When did we get so close, what changed?” “Everything,” Clarke said, at the same time as Bellamy said, “Nothing.” “Well that clarifies it,” Young Clarke said sarcastically. Young Bellamy snorted. “Don’t be like that, Princess, it can’t be the most repulsive idea in the world. Don’t think I haven’t caught you sneaking a peek at me in the mornings before I put a shirt on.” “Did you really? I thought I was being subtle.” Clarke asked, looking up at Bellamy. He shrugged. “Yeah. I figured you didn’t like that you found me attractive though, seeing as you constantly got in my face, so I never brought it up.” “Until now, apparently,” she smiled, and he returned the expression, eyes crinkling in the corners as he looked down at her, faces closer than they had any right to be. “I just don’t get it,” Young Clarke interrupted, exasperated. “I do,” Young Bellamy ran a hand through his curls as the attention of everyone in the room stuck to him, looking sheepish and avoiding her gaze in particular. “Hey, I might find you annoying, Princess, but you’re not unattractive. And you’re smart, and you care about people - too much, sometimes - and you think ahead, which is more than I can say for most of us.” “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me the entire time we’ve been on the ground,” Young Clarke said, surprised. He shifted his weight uncomfortably. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.” “Why not? Clearly we get there eventually,” she gestured at the older versions of them. “Don’t want you getting too cocky,” he said in explanation, smirking. She rolled her eyes so hard it looked like she might pull a muscle. “You’re such an ass, how did I ever fall for you?” “It was all the beard,” Clarke deadpanned, the joke out of her mouth before she could overthink it. Behind her, Bellamy froze. “Really?” She turned around to face him and his arms fell to his sides, eyes widening at her as she started berating him, arms gesticulating wildly. “No, you idiot, I’ve been in love with you for years, I didn’t just decide when you got back to the ground that I find beards sexy. In between falling in love with you and losing you, I didn’t think, ‘hm, wow, if only he had a beard, then I would jump his bones’. Oddly, that thought never crossed my mind. I don’t know exactly when I stopped just looking at you as my friend and started looking at you as the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, but it was long, long before the fucking beard. God, Bellamy you’re so much more intelligent than you give yourself credit for, but sometimes, you’re so-” Bellamy cut her off by kissing her, fingers on her cheeks and lips warm against hers, and she melted into it, caught completely off-guard. One of his hands slid around her head, tangling in her hair, and she sighed into his mouth and draped her arms over his shoulders, deepening the kiss. “Gross,” Murphy said, but she could hear the smile in his voice. “Seriously? Eight million years of sexual tension and that was all it took? You made a joke about finding beards sexy and that was all it took?! You could have saved us all years of torment,” Miller complained loudly, but Clarke just flipped the bird at him over Bellamy’s shoulder. “Stop kissing in front of the children, you’re upsetting them,” Gabriel said, impassive, and Clarke laughed, breaking the kiss. She caught Gabriel’s eye and he grinned, winking as he went back to fiddling with the levers and pulleys on the machine. “Did that just happen?” Bellamy asked, soft. She blinked. “Yeah. I guess it did.” “Doesn’t feel different,” he murmured. She searched her feelings, waiting for some kind of realization to hit her, or for the world to shift under her feet, but Bellamy was right - it didn’t feel any different at all. It felt exactly like they always did. She hummed agreement, stretching up on her toes again to press a chaste kiss against his lips and he chased her back down to the floor, arms banding around her waist to keep her there. “Is it weird that I found that kinda hot?” Young Bellamy asked, squinting as he thought it over. “Yes,” Young Clarke snapped. “I mean, it’s us,” he pointed out. “And?” “And watching us make out is kinda hot, Princess, I don’t know what you want me to say,” he rounded on her, one hand resting on his gun the way he always did back then. Gabriel made a noise of excitement, dropping a pin back into the contraption, and it whirred to life again, green starting to glow from within the glass box. “Everyone back!” They all stepped away, leaving Young Clarke and Bellamy still bickering in the center of the room. Miller squeezed Clarke’s hand as she leaned back against Bellamy’s chest, his arm around her waist, as they watched the young versions of themselves get in each other’s space, all heated words and blatant sexual tension. She poked his chest and he stepped closer into his space, and both of them seemed to be doing their best not to let their eyes drop to each other’s lips and still failing. It was almost comical how obvious they were. “Is that really what we looked like?” Clarke asked. “Yep,” Murphy nodded. “I can’t believe we didn’t see it,” she shook her head, awestruck. “Look at us, we’re practically desperate to tear each other’s clothes off.” “We are not!” Young Clarke and Bellamy said at the same time, right as the green light flashed once more, filling the entire room and blinding them all. When it faded, the two of them were gone, leaving no trace of their presence behind, and Gabriel patted the hood of the machine, happy with the result. He glanced up at the rest of them, still processing what had just happened, and tossed a hammer at their feet. “Who wants to help me destroy it?” Murphy didn’t need to be asked twice, picking it up and taking a wild swing at the machine. Miller joined next, while Gabriel went looking for some accelerant to set it on fire, and Bellamy made to join him, but noticed the way Clarke had fallen silent. He hung back, moving into her space, trying to catch her eye. “You okay?” he asked, lips almost close enough to brush her forehead as he talked. “I’m just thinking about them,” she admitted. “About everything they’re going to go through. It’s not fair.” He tangled his fingers in hers. “No, it isn’t. But we made it; here and now.” “Yeah.” “The past is the past, there’s nothing we can do to change it-” “Especially not now!” Murphy yelled, slamming the hammer down once more and making the machine cough smoke. “-but we’ve got a whole future to look forward to,” Bellamy continued, ignoring the man. He tugged Clarke closer. “And I’m looking to you, Princess.”

#the 100 #bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #bellarke fanfic #the 100 fanfiction #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #john murphy #nathan miller #gabriel santiago #lil timey wimey au #canon divergence #it's not spec because it'll never happen but a girl can have some fun fluffy dreams okay #666 fics #my fics #talis's 666 celebration!#i hope you like it cutie!!!#sorry it took so long!!

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revasserium · 4 years

Note

Idk if I requested this already but can you do sfw and nsfw for todoroki and Midoriya

bnha requests open

todorokisfw --

a little bit touch starved, though he’d be quite hesitant at first with the contact, still a bit unused to the concept of closeness that isn’t related to pain or wrongdoing; eventually, the dam breaks and he’ll itch to be close to you, to be ever closer, all the time, whether it be your knees pressing beneath the table when studying, or your arm casually slung around your shoulders; he’d ache for your touch, miss it the moment you’re gone, biting his lips when you kiss him goodnight, wondering if it’d be too much to ask you to stay just a little longer (or perhaps, just forever)

tiny little gestures of affection, like cooling your icecream on a hot day, or keeping your tea hot on a winter afternoon; tiny things he thinks you don’t notice (but you do, because you always notice when it comes to him), and when you say thank you, he’d start, because he really thought he was being subtle (he wasn’t; he never is when it comes to you)

“is there something wrong with my hair?” “no, i just like it a lot. reminds me of neopolitan icecream.” “... there’s only two colors.” “yeah, i know, but still.” he’d smile, and then you’d smile, and eventually he’d ask if you’d like icecream, to which you’d say, “well, i thought you’d never ask.”

sometimes he goes quiet, the kind of quiet that makes you wonder if he’ll ever speak again, but then it’s during those times that he’d reach for you, with shaking palms and a whole ocean of uncertainties locked behind his lips; you let him hold you, as close as he likes; you kiss him, slow and sweet and soft, and eventually he comes to, with a smile that tastes like thank you when he presses it against your lips

“you’re staring.” “... i know.” “why’re you staring?” “because... i can, and i want to.” you grin, “take a picture, it’ll last longer.” he shakes his head, “i’d rather stare.” “why’s that?” “cause... if i wanted, i could just reach out and touch you.”

nsfw --

he’d hold your hand, because he’s nothing if not a gentleman, twist your hair in his fingers and pull just had enough, sink his teeth into the skin of your neck until his name sounds less like a name and more like a prayer falling from your lips -- chanted, shouted, and screamed.

“let’s take a bath.” “we literally just had a bath yesterday.” “you don’t like them?” “no... it’s just -- we never really actually bathe.” his grin is a little too wicked as he tugs you to him, “exactly why i like them.”

(he likes them because he can heat up the water again without running more hot water)

he prefers the slow kind of love, the drawn out, feathers and flower petals and candles kind of love, the kind where he has time to spell out his desires across the parchment of your skin, kiss his name into the ridges between your ribs, savor the sting of your fingernails in his back as he drags you to another high, and then another after that; he’s never satisfied, but he sure as hell makes sure you are

don’t think he won’t use his quirk to his fullest advantage, because he will; and maybe he spent half a night googling temperature kinks, but he’s a quick study if nothing else, and when he puts his research to the test, he has you writhing beneath him, begging and whimpering -- it’s one of the only times he’d properly considered his own quirks as dangerous; he’d have to use them sparingly in the bedroom; he’s not sure he’d survive another night with the sight of you reaching for him, asking to be fucked until you can’t remember anything but his name

midoriyasfw --

he’s almost too pleased, too excited, and endeavors to make sure you know just how pleased and excited he is; he’ll hold your hand, a little too tightly sometimes, because if truth be told he’s still not sure this is really reality (he’d pinched himself more times than he can say), and he laughs too loudly, says “yes! i’d love to!” too many times, but it’s one of the things you love about him -- how excited he gets, how loud he can be, how determined when it comes to the things he loves -- well, now one of them just happens to be you

lots of giggling and blushing, at least when it first starts out, lots of reaching for your hand, unsure if this is okay -- but once you assure him that it is, he gets better, until it becomes a second nature hand, his fingers slipping through yours, swinging between you on the way back from class, his palm against yours like it was made to be there

“let’s go on a date!” “oh! where to?” “uhm -- hadn’t really thought that far yet.” you grin at his blush, “we could go to the movies.” “oh yeah! there’s that new docufilm about all might’s best rescues, have you seen the trailer? it looks super good!” you laugh, “sure!” “oh -- wait do you even want to see that? sorry, i shouldn’t have assumed...” “no, it’s okay! i’d love to go.” “are -- are you sure?” “yeah, i’m sure.” “okay then, let’s do it.” “yes, it’s a date.”

cuddle-studying, because why not have both?

sometimes he’d get carried away talking about the things he loves: all-might, curry buns, all-might, a new drill for his quirk, all-might, the cafeteria banana milk, all-might, fall as a season, and of course -- all-might, and then he’d pause to look at you, a blush on his cheeks, his fingers twisting and dancing in a language all their own (you swore you’d one day learn that language too, and you think you’re making good headway), he’d tell you sorry, that he didn’t mean to get carried away, to which you’d smile and shake your head, tell him that it’s okay, because you like hearing about the things he loves; and he’d say “well, i’d talk about you too, but it’s just whenever i try, no words come out -- like...” another blush, deeper this time, “like i could never find any words good enough to describe how much i love you.”

nsfw --

it would be a bit fumbly, in the beginning, a bit awkward, and a lot funny -- but he’d figure it out eventually (with a lot of help from the interwebs, but he isn’t about to tell you that); there’d be a lot of “is this okay” “does that feel good” a lot of “tell me if i’m hurting you” and “ah -- am i doing that right?” but once he finds it, once he figures it out, it’s (mostly) smooth sailing from there, and well, he’s always been something of an overachiever

maybe he’d get embarrassed about how much you turn him on, how quickly the heat gathers in his belly, how it snarls like a hungry beast at the base of his stomach, how sometimes it feels like he’s going insane, like he’s sitting in a boiler room with no ventilation, how his mind fizzles out into carnal desires and impulses when it comes to you; because sometimes when you kiss him like you do (like you want to do more than just kiss him), he feels like his entire body might catch fire and he thinks that he might have to ask todoroki about that temperature quirk because it feels like he’s got it

“please, god you’re so hot -- i’m getting really hot too, i mean not that i think i’m hot just -- you’re -- ngh -- you know?”

would 10000% get off on you riding his thigh, getting off on the thought of you being needy enough, the wonder in his eyes almost eclipsing the desire in his gut as he watches you work yourself over his leg; he tenses it just to watch you gasp, your head falling back; he thinks that if there’s a heaven, then this must be it; and he figures there’s no other paradise he’d rather be in than the one right here, right now

when he figures it out, how to push your buttons, how to get you panting, it’s all he can do to stop himself from tugging you into every semi-secluded corner; its all he can do to stop himself from imagining bending you over every surface -- the desks tucked into the back of the library stacks, the counter in the kitchen in the dorms at night, the sofa in the common room where everyone will sit and no one will know; he learns how to make you scream and gets addicted to the sound, presses his hand over your mouth, even though he knows that it won’t do much to muffle the noise; he wonders if everyone can hear, and revels in the thought that bitch, they just might be able to.

#todoroki shouto #midoriya izuku #todoroki x reader #midoriya x reader #bnha imagines #we could be HEROS #icyhot #deku #floofy floof floof #ya nasties #deku fucks okay #fite me on this #also i highkey headcanon that todoroki rly enjoys power bottoming mostly bc he likes to watch u ride him #but thats a headcanon for another day LOL

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lon3lynation · 4 years

Text

Day 1: Forbidden Love (Detective/Criminal)

Read Here Or On AO3

Lexa groans in pain as she rests against the wall of the vacant warehouse.

"Shooting me in the shoulder was a bit excessive, don't you think?" She clutches her wounded arm to her side.

Clarke scoffs as she closes in with her gun, aiming at the killer that's become her much sought out nemesis over the years.

"You had a gun pointed at me."

Lexa gestures to the gun that fell from her hand a foot away from where she currently sits.

"I've held you at weapons point several times before. I wouldn't have shot you," she protests, feeling quite insulted by the assumption.

Clarke tries to hide the sudden awareness of guilt as she holsters her gun away and squats warily beside Lexa.

"Let me stop the bleeding."

"Now she wants to undo her offense," Lexa grouches. "You should have thought --" she hisses at the rude interruption of Clarke prodding at her shoulder.

"Shut up. It appears the bullet went through. Keep pressure on it. I need to find something to tie it off."

Clarke guides Lexa's hand to apply pressure to slow the bleeding. Surprisingly, Lexa only grunts in response.

Glancing around the abandoned building, Clarke knew it was a lost cause to find anything clean and usable. She looks back to Lexa and quickly comes to a solution.

Reaching down to the criminal's dark tank top with her hands, the detective rips a long enough piece to use. She quickly fastens it around the shoulder wound and ties it off tightly.

"That should do it. You'll live," Clarke sighs with relief as she let her hands fall away from the makeshift bandage.

It finally occurs to her that Lexa has been unnervingly silent throughout the process. Clarke allows herself to glance at her nemesis' face and swallows at what she finds.

Lexa features have softened to allow her affection for Clarke to shine through. Her eyes roam over Clarke almost greedily so.

It was overwhelming how much yearning Clarke was suddenly witnessing. It wasn't a new revelation to her as Lexa usually didn't hide her feelings from her whenever they met. It scares Clarke each time because she knew she was close to matching that yearning with her own for Lexa.

Lexa finally breaks the comfortable silence between them.

"When is your backup supposed to arrive?"

Clarke slightly shakes her head.

"I haven't called for them yet."

Lexa hums happily after hearing that. Clarke didn't have to look to know there was a smug smile on that face.

"Interesting." Lexa slowly reaches down to her stomach and caresses the top of Clarke's hand. "We have some time, then."

Clarke was busy feeling betrayed by her hand, not noticing it had settled on the exposed skin of Lexa's stomach. She doesn't remove it and lets Lexa lay her hand over it.

Lexa licks her lips and guides the hand higher on her stomach until it reaches right under her breast.

Clarke shakes at the flexing muscles beneath her palm.

"Come here, Clarke," Lexa urges.

Clarke follows the slight tug on her wrist and finds herself settling on the brunette's lap.

Suddenly, it was hard to breathe.

"Clarke. Clarke, listen to me. Breathe. Don't overthink this. Just breathe. In and out."

Lexa reluctantly removes her hand from Clarke's to grab the other one and place it on her sternum.

"Feel that? Breathe with me. It's alright."

Clarke was squeezing her eyes shut, but she listened and found herself calming down. Soon she found herself slumping into Lexa's body, her forehead resting against her neck.

"This is crazy. We're both insane." Clarke chuckles.

"Maybe, but I think it suits us."

Lexa shrugs her uninjured shoulder before moving her hand again to loosen and remove the band that held Clarke's hair in a bun. Soon her fingers thread through the locks to untangle any knots. She liked it when it was down.

Clarke felt herself relaxing even more. It should frighten her how well Lexa seemed to know her and how to calm her down.

"Will you look at me now?"

Lexa bites her lip when Clarke eventually lifts her head and let their eyes meet again.

"I shouldn't want this. I should be arresting you."

"It's okay to want. No matter how taboo. Just..." Lexa trails off, tightening her grip on blonde locks. "Be here, Clarke. Be here with me. Let yourself feel. Forget everything else for a while."

Lexa stares imploringly at Clarke, hoping that the fight would leave her just for this moment. When Clarke finally lowers her head to meet her lips, she grins victoriously into the kiss.

It starts soft and searching before they both find themselves surging into the kiss. Clarke whimpers, letting herself freefall into what Lexa made her feel. It was dangerous and intoxicating,

Lexa bites and licks before groaning when their tongues glide together. Her hand leaves Clarke's head to grasp at the hand she left just under her breast.

Clarke gasps at the reminder and instantly let her hands roam beneath Lexa's torn shirt. One slides under the bra to cup a breast while the other scratches over subtle abs.

Lexa moans pleasingly before leaving Clarke's hands to their work to grab ahold of the blonde's ass. She pulls Clarke more into her, pulling another gasp out of the woman.

Clarke breathes heavily but doesn't dare stop kissing Lexa just yet. Sucking on the other woman's bottom lip, she adjusts her position to grind on the thigh beneath her.

"Use me, Clarke. Grind away." Lexa pants as she encourages the movement with her hand. She wished she could be using both hands, but she would make due.

Clarke groans and begins griding against the offered thigh as the pleasure increases. She wanted nothing more than for them to be naked, but it was not the time nor place.

Lexa pulls back from the aggressive kiss, needing to regain her breath but found it difficult as Clarke set on attacking her neck. She throws her head back, barely noticing how it thudded against the concrete wall, to give more access.

Clarke licks up Lexa's throat, sucking kisses and bites along the skin.

"That's it. Mark me. I'm yours,' Lexa sighs, smiling softly at the ceiling as she clenched tighter onto one of Clarke's butt cheeks.

"Lexa," Clarke moans at the grip, rocking harder and faster, feeling the nails digging in. Only her jeans were preventing them from leaving bloody crescents into her skin. "Fuck."

Lexa rocks her thigh up, keeping with the fast pace Clarke was setting and admiring the lack of restraint the detective was showing.

After a particularly hard bite that had Lexa hissing in response, Clarke drew back to recapture Lexa's lips. She was getting closer.

Sensing this, Lexa forces her hand away from its spot on Clarke's behind to sneak up Clarke's top and bra to circle her fingers around her nipple.

"Good decision forgoing the bulletproof vest. It would have made this harder for me," Lexa murmurs after pulling out of the kiss to get her turn of tasting Clarke's neck.

Later on, Clarke would wonder how the hell Lexa knew that she was told to wear one earlier and chose not to because some small part of her knew Lexa wouldn't harm her.

"Yes," Clarke shudders at the onslaught of touches. "Keep doing that. Pinch my nipples."

Clarke shows Lexa what she wants by pinching and tugging on Lexa's nipples, making the girl jerk beneath her. It was a delicious feeling to get such reactions out of a cold-blooded killer.

Lexa nibbles on Clarke's throat, leaving bruises in her wake. She knew others would not see them later on because Clarke will cover them up, but it was enough to know they will serve as a reminder of their time to Clarke. It will not be something that Clarke will force herself to forget. She'll make sure of it.

Pinching roughly at the nipples Lexa wishes that were not hiding beneath clothes, she closes her eyes to take in every sound, movement, and emotions waring inside her.

"Come for me, Clarke," Lexa demands, and Clarke does beautifully.

Lexa sits back to observe as Clarke falls over the edge, twitching on her lap and circling her hips to drag it out as long as she could.

Lexa loves her.

A few minutes later, Clarke finds herself snuggling against Lexa's chest, feeling safe and satisfied. Lexa's hand was rubbing back and forth across her slumped back.

"Next time, the clothes have got to go. I want to see and feel every bare inch of you," Lexa purrs contently. Now that the adrenaline was fading, she was feeling sleepy, and the pain was making itself known.

Clarke startles upright, her hands shooting out to grasp Lexa's shoulders before jerking back when it caused Lexa to groan loudly in protest.

"Oh, shit! Sorry! I forgot about that."

Lexa huffs out an amused laugh while clutching her hand over her wounded shoulder. "Good to know that I'm that distracting. Feel free to hurt me again if this is the result every time."

Clarke almost smiles at the joke, well, at least she hopes it is a joke. She never knew with Lexa. With a reluctant sigh, she removes herself from Lexa and stands up.

"There's not going to be a next time, Lexa. This was..." A mistake, she wanted to say but couldn't let the lie escape her mouth. "Get out of here before I change my mind and arrest you. Your shoulder needs tending to."

Lexa couldn't help but show her disappointment in Clarke attempting to distance herself from her again. She was used to it, but for a moment, she thought she finally got through to her.

Gratefully, Clarke was letting her escape, and Lexa knew that meant something despite whatever Clarke may be telling herself. One day Clarke will just let herself feel and be free of any shame she held.

"There's no need for shame in this. You don't need to keep resisting, Clarke." Lexa struggles back to her feet, using the wall to keep her balance.

"I have to. This is wrong."

"It is not wrong!" Lexa snaps, her voice echoing off the walls. "What you and I feel for each other is not wrong. It is the most righteous feeling I've ever felt. It's the one pure thing in my life. It can't be wrong."

"Lexa," Clarke chokes, eyes turning watery. "I don't know how to do this. I don't know what you want from me and how I could find it inside myself to give it to you. I don't think I can."

"I believe you can someday. You'll find that you owe it to yourself and be with me. I will give this life all up for you. It can be just you and I together."

Clarke stays silent, holding herself within her arms as a tear drips down her cheek. Lexa simply nods in understanding.

"It was lovely to see you again, Clarke. We shall continue our game. Until next time..."

Lexa steps forward to lay a soft kiss to the tear trail on Clarke's cheek.

"Lexa," Clarke whispers, causing Lexa to pause in her step away. "I don't know how I'm going to process this and if I actually can. All I can give you right now is a..." Clarke nervously licks her lips, "Not yet."

Lexa gazes into Clarke's eyes and feels she is genuine. She just needed time to cope with and accept her feelings for what they are.

"I'll wait however long you need."

Clarke heaves a breath as Lexa leaves the building and sits where Lexa was seated. She could feel the lingering warmth beneath her body.

She'll give Lexa 5 more minutes before calling backup to arrive and survey the scene. She would have to come up with a cover story on how Lexa escaped capture once again.

#clexaweek2020 #clexaweek2020 day 1 #day 1 forbidden love #clexa au #clexa #clarke x lexa #clexa fanfic #clexa fic #clexa oneshot #clexa ao3 #my writing

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maviemesregles · 4 years

Text

Once I was an Eagle

Aaaaaand, I'm back! I know it's been bloody ages since the last update but I needed a break. I also had been busy with other ficlets so OIWAE was put on pause. But the story is back and I do hope you like this instalment. I really, really like this chapter.

I am absolutely horrible at answering the comments (which I'll fix, promise) but I do see each one of them! I LOVE reading what your thoughts are, whether you liked some moment or a particular turn of phrase, I appreciate it all. No matter if it's one word, emoji, or a big analysing comment. Thank you lovies for staying here with me. <3

Anne, you’re my gem 💜 @eclecticstarlightconnoisseur

Read on AO3

Chapter I: The beginnings

Chapter II: Sassenach

Chapter III: Catharsis

Chapter IV: Lovestruck. Part I

Chapter V: Lovestruck. Part II

Chapter VI: Flecks of Sun

Chapter VII: Mince pies & baubles

Chapter VIII: Home

Blood pounded in Claire’s ears muffling the music and the howling wind outside. Jamie’s face blurred as the tears gathered at the brink of her lower lashes. She inhaled deeply, blinking furiously to get rid of the swell of moisture in her eyes. Closing them Claire could feel Jamie moving towards her, gently touching her arm, voice concerned.

“Claire, was it too early? Did I-”

He could not finish his sentence because she dissolved into ugly crying. Clinging to him, gasping for air and in general being an awful mess.

“Shh, mo graidh. Shh. Tis alright.” His hands wrapped around Claire in a familiar way, thumb circling the tender skin at her nape softly.

“I.. I’m going to ruin your shirt.” Sniffing, voice muffled by his aforementioned shirt Claire leaned back to look at the mess she created. Her running nose and damp cheeks imprinted a mascara-black wet blot on green fabric. She could hear Jamie chuckle as he picked her up and sat down with Claire curled on his lap.

“I dinna care one bit about the shirt, lass.” Lips gently pressed a kiss to her forehead. Claire sighed though still gasping for air. The comfort of Jamie’s warmth made her body become limp.

“I’m not crying because I am sad,” Claire whispered, hand cupping the back of his head. “I... I’m crying because I’m happy, Jamie. Happy to live with you.”

Dropping a kiss on the bridge of her nose, he smiled.

“Aye. Me too, my Sassenach.”

* * *

It was the beginning of what seemed like an endless hunt for what would become a perfect flat for us. We spent about three weeks chasing an ideal place, checked at least ten flats scattered all over Edinburgh but none of them was quite what we were looking for (not far away from my work; with a park nearby to allow Jamie to go on his morning jogs. And it needed to have a large living room and be pet-friendly.)

Jamie (bare-chested, skin still flushed from the shower) was performing his magic by preparing the scrambled eggs I loved so much while I sat on the windowsill, feet in fuzzy socks propped up the wall. As I scrolled through rental ads on Jamie’s iPad I felt the pressure of upcoming headache from all this searching. And suddenly, there it was. The place that we were looking for.

A stone-built ground floor house had a spacious kitchen and a huge living room adorned with an old fireplace. The ceilings were so high I thought there is no end to them. “Canna wait to hear yer voice inside these walls” Jamie smirked at me as we followed behind the agent chirping away about how great this flat is. “Whatever do you mean?” I quirked my brow at him. He leaned closer, whispering into my ear, his warm breath tickling the little hairs on my nape. “Weel, those sounds ye make when I-” Giggling, my elbow pressed into his ribs, stopping him before any dangerous and inappropriate (for the agent) revelations could occur.

Grand windows allowed the sun to slip into every little corner of the flat and made it breathe with light. There were two bedrooms with hardboard wooden floors and a small study fully equipped with bookshelves. French doors in the kitchen opened to a garden with a southern exposure was the last deciding straw for me. It had everything we needed. Adso would be welcome to live here, it was a fifteen minute drive from my work and there was a park just across the street. Although it was rather pricey, Jamie ignored my hissing remark “Almost four grand quid? Fucking insane,” and said that we should sign the rental agreement. I kissed him senseless allowing the feeling that this is us now, our own place fill me up.

The rental price had changed our plans a little bit. Forcing us to spend a couple of days moving small furniture and other possessions Jamie and I owned to our new accommodation by ourselves. At the end of it all, sweaty and tired, we sat on the boxes in the empty living room, watching the snowfall outside the huge windows.

“Are ye happy, Sassenach?” Jamie gently pulled me by the wrist to his side. My hands cradled his face as I stood up and found myself a prisoner between his thighs.

“Of course I am, James Fraser,” thumb caressing the apple of his cheeks I glanced around. “Only I have no idea how we are going to organize this mess.” It feels like between the two of us there are millions of boxes and bags, packages. I’ve brought the plants I owned (the only three I managed not to kill), a box full of uncle’s Lamb belongings, an enormous contemporary art painting Geillis got me for my 30th birthday two years ago. Adso had his belongings too, a scratching post, litter tray and his own little blanket. Adso himself was being babysat by Geillis while I and Jamie tried to sort out our moving. Jamie was currently sitting on a stash of my medical books destined for the study.

“We’ll manage, a nighean ” His hands patted my hips, bringing me closer. Planting a soft kiss on the washed fabric over my sternum, Jamie looked up. “We canna do more than our best.”

My stomach had the quite opposite opinion of doing our best and rumbled loudly.

“God, I’m starving” yawning I reached for the cellphone.

Later, full and warm with chicken ramen, curry with prawns and wok-fried greens we had just enough strength in us to unpack most of the carton boxes that said “Kitchen”. In that hour and a half, we managed to laugh, listen to Jamie’s Dire Straits playlist on his phone and argue over ridiculous things. Putting away a bitty family of my mugs and cups Jamie dropped my favourite mug Frank bought me a very long time ago and I never could get rid of it. It was massive and bright yellow, with Friends on it. It was my all-time binge-love TV show. It shattered in yellow pieces atop the counter and floor. I didn't mean to snap. But we both were bone-weary from a long day of moving back and forth, of a week packing before, exhausted from all the searching catching up with us. Suddenly I felt my chin quiver at the sight of my beloved, now broken mug.

“I’m sorry, Sassenach.” Jamie bit his lip, trying to reach me with his hand over the island counter but I shrugged away.

“Why are you so bloody clumsy, ” I mumbled, kneeling to pick up broken ceramic bits. Jamie rubbed his face, clearly wanting to say something, but instead he bent to help.

Annoyed just by him breathing next to me at that moment I dropped collected pieces straight into the bin. When he tried to sweep the floor from the dusty mug remains I snapped.

“Oh, please, just move away, or you’re going to break something else.”

I regretted the words right after I’ve said them but blood was already pounding in my ears and there was no way back.

“I said I’m sorry,” Jamie muttered, looking visibly irritated himself now. “It’s just a mug, I’ll buy ye a new one.”

The tension crackled with its force.

“I don’t want another bloody mug! ” I barked at him trying to busy myself opening a new box. “Frank gave it to me. It was my favourite one.”

Time seemed to stop for a second as Jamie slowly licked his lips looking me straight in the eyes.

“Frank?”

Unable to hold his gaze anymore I turned my back to him staring out of the window.

“Don’t you start playing a jealous boyfriend on me,” I grunted, telling myself to calm down. You know he doesn’t mean it bad.

He grumbled and I could hear him retreating to the living room.

“Why are ye bitching about it, Claire?” He hissed and I thought I could feel his words crawl inside me like a poisonous snake.

“What?” I followed him to the room (aka the mess) full of boxes.

“Nothing.”

“Repeat what you just said,” I demanded.

He didn’t. Instead, we spent the next hour in different rooms unpacking. Or pretending to. I wasn't able to do a proper job and stopped on one box. As the sweat cooled off on my skin and the urge to cry faded away I plodded down the hallway towards the bathroom. Passing the living room I caught a glimpse of Jamie placing my candles (that he hated) on top of the fireplace. The sight gave my heart a painful (and guilty) squeeze. Deciding that taking a shower, putting fresh PJs on and making us both a nice cup of tea would make both of us feel better.

I turned on the hot water. It was blissful and caused me to go limp. Engrossed as I was I did not hear Jamie come in. Shedding his clothes wordlessly, he stepped into the shower behind me. Cupping one breast, he dropped a kiss on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry I snapped, Claire. And I’m sorry for ye wee mug.”

Turning to face him, I nodded and kissed his jaw softly.

“I am sorry, Jamie. I was unreasonable and acted like a jerk.”

Our earlier argument was mended when his lips sealed on my neck, leaving me breathless. Moments later I cried out as I sagged against the tiled wall, him still inside me.

We slept on a makeshift bed that Jamie constructed from his mattress and two blankets just right in front of the fireplace. We laid, limbs entwined, among the boxes and bags, hands lazily tracing hills and valleys of each other bodies. “I love you,” I whispered before my mind drifted away into the realm of Morpheus.

* * *

Weeks later our flat finally started looking like somebody really lives here. With all our mismatched furniture, collection of books (mine mainly botany and poems, and Jamie’s classics and fantasy), with a horrid motorbike engine of Jamie’s (the one he used to drive in his uni days). No matter how much I asked him to throw that away he squealed like a girl protecting her virtue, not letting me come near that metal monstrosity. We agreed to put it away in the second bedroom which initially became a storage room.

One evening as I rocked my hips atop of him Jamie smirked that we marked each room in this flat. “ Aye, we did” I said mimicking him as I yanked my scrub top off over my head. Jamie made my body go limp against the shower tiles; he drew mewling sounds out of me on the kitchen table; my moans bounced off those high ceilings in the living room; his laboured breathing filled our bedroom and crawled up the walls. I gasped at the feeling of him in the storage room when Jamie announced his evident desire for a quickie; and he groaned “Oh, Claire” following his meandering Gaelic cursing as his hands tangled in my curls while I kneeled down unzipping his jeans.

Every time I showed up at work Geillis would never forget to ask me with a wink “So, my darling, how’s yer wee ginger? Loves ye well? I TOLD YE. Yer fucking glowing like a candle, Claire.”

Living with Jamie was a whole new experience. Now I had the luxury to wake up to his sleepy face and mussed curls every day. He would make the most miserable facial expression as I switch on the table lamp, grunting and burying himself under the layers of blanket. James Fraser was definitely not a morning person. “Five in the morning is torture,” he mumbled sleepily as I pressed a goodbye kiss to his forehead. “Normal people sleep at this time, ye ken. Go, save yer humans, Sassenach.” Squeezing my hand he turned to snooze immediately. But as soon as I got to work my phone would beep with his text message every morning “Have a great day, a nighean. Love ye.”

Any other morning I had a chance to stay in bed longer he’d wake me up with his hands, his mouth and his body molding into mine much like matching puzzle piece. I could not remember life without him anymore. Without his perfect morning coffee for me; without our banter or seriousness full talks in the darkness of the night, his hands on my hip, thumb carving the shape of my pelvic bone; without lazy evenings on the couch with Netflix and takeaway, my head resting on his chest, Jamie’s hand wrapped around my waist, and Adso curled on his lap.

Every day I had a pleasure of observing his fucking gorgeous post jog body. But like any other couple, we shared our bit of things that drove us crazy. Jamie had this annoying habit to turn the TV on so loud I had to scream like a banshee from the kitchen to get his attention. He also seemed to be very dedicated at the task of leaving the puddle of water on the bathroom floor after showering. I would not even want to mention his morning cologne spraying session that left a suffocating smell in the hallway. But, I myself was far from perfect. I had to endure him rolling his eyes at me and making disgusted faces as he plucked my hair out from the shower drain. Also, Jamie was patient with me and my attempts to cook and never protested eating ordered food. He would often volunteer for the task seeing me struggle with slimy spaghetti. But all those things did not matter as each night I fell asleep saying “I love you” lulled by his steady heartbeat beneath my cheek.

It had gotten to the point where I found that I could not live without him. So when Jamie had to leave to Inverness for three days I cursed at his business the whole day. Without him, I felt like the part of me was torn away and even Adso purring by my side couldn’t remedy the feeling. That’s why now I shamelessly found my place on Jamie’s lap, sparkling rosé in my hand. Our kitchen was filled with laughter, chats and instrumental indie playing from Google Home speaker Jenny and Ian gave us as a gift. The food was rich and tasty, the wine was pleasantly chill and Jamie’s left hand on my hip too much to handle. We haven’t made love for three days and I was positively flushed with desire. My skin was on fire - a mix of alcohol, laughter and Jamie.

“So, Claire, I do hope ye like yer wee rug?” Angus tried to wink at me sipping his red. I rolled my eyes and looked over my shoulder to have a look at his present again. It was a door rug in a bright green colour with a white cat on it that said: “Don’t forget to pet my pussy-cat”. He shoved it into my hands grinning. I was taken aback and did not know what to say. Meanwhile, Jamie broke into almost hysterical laughter, as I stood mouth agape. “Ye do have a cat, no?” Angus snorted and I only managed to nod as he welcomed himself inside our flat.

“Very thoughtful present,” I said, saluting my glass to Angus.

Untangling myself from Jamie’s embrace I excused myself to the bathroom. I washed my hands and caught sight of my face in the mirror. Cheeks pink coloured I splashed cold water on my face, feeling the drops run down my neck. Hair drawn back in a sweaty knot. When Jamie opens the door there is a trail of loud raucous laughter coming from the kitchen follows him.

“I’ll be right back,” I said thinking he came to get me. But the next moment the latch on the door clicked closed. His lips sought mine and he tasted of whisky leaving the burning sensation on my lips. His hands reached under my sweater, tracing the small of my back and then soft skin on my belly.

“I love them all, but I swear if they dinna leave soon, I’m going to have to kill all our guests” Jamie breathed out heavily as my hands fumbled with his belt, tugging at the stubborn zipper of the jeans. He cursed something in Gaelic that I did not understand when my fingers found his hot flesh.

“I might kill them myself,” I agreed, gently biting at his earlobe. My mouth fell open when Jamie snaked a hand between us, curling and tasting me with his fingers exactly right.

“Christ, Claire” He muttered under his breath, fingers damp from his exploration. But our moment was rudely interrupted by Murtagh unceremoniously knocking on the door. “What are ye doing there, ye wee beasties? We need more booze.” Grunting in annoyance Jamie slid his belt back in and reached to pull my rolled sweater down. Kissing him chastely, we made it out back to our guests.

Over the next several days, we both were swirled into the routine business of life seeing each other mostly in the evenings. I’ve been extra busy at work and Jamie still had to finish important tasks at the brewery. Both of us exhausted, we barely managed to order takeaway, with me falling asleep on the couch as soon as the food was finished as a new episode of Peaky Blinders played. Jamie would carry me to the bedroom. He crept in beside me covering us both with a quilt. We would touch fingertips and sleep holding each other until the sun came uninvited, crawling inside the room. There was a silent agreement between us and the sex was at bay. There was a day when Jamie’s hands glided over my hips, finger drawing patterns at the panties waistband. Sleepily, I mumbled that I’m gross and disgusting and in need of a shower and shave. The other day I managed to pull off my sexiest face and slowly pull down my knickers I turned to find Jamie had fallen asleep soundly, mouth slightly agape. Chuckling, I picked my discarded underwear and slid under the blankets next to his starfish sprawled body.

Standing in the locker room at the hospital I’ve snapped a photo of myself. I turned myself provocatively displaying my ass to look as if I spent days in the gym (I did not of course) but nonetheless Jamie seemed more than fascinated by this body part of mine. Sending him the picture with capslock text “TONIGHT FRASER” I retreated back to work. All morning and lunch I spent thinking of the upcoming evening. Geillis took me out of my thoughts by grabbing my hand in the hallway.

“Claire, are ye alright?” Her eyes examined my face worriedly. “Ye look as pale as the wall behind ye.” I shook my head, reassuring her it’s nothing but a bit of nausea.

“I’m fine, Geil.” Running a palm over my clammy forehead I felt the imminent need to vomit. “It’s probably that sushi I had for lunch with Joe. I told him it did not look good.”

Giving me judgmental-mother look and shaking her head Geillis still made me sit down and close my eyes.

“Ye work too much, lass. Jamie needs to take ye on a holiday.”

The perspective of vacation sounded like an unreachable luxury at the moment but under Geillis’s superior look I agreed to go home earlier tonight. It started to rain hard outside when I crossed the threshold, dropping the bags of groceries down. Deciding that I might as well cook today instead of having takeaway again I strolled down the kitchen feeling slightly wamble and dizzy. After taking Pepto-Bismol and hoping it’ll help calm down my disgruntled stomach I opened a can of cat food, summoning Adso. But my cat was nowhere in sight. I’ve checked every nook and little corner, under the bed and couch. In the storage room as last time Jamie closed the cat in there by accident. My furry baby seemed to have vanished into thin air and I felt an oncoming wave of worry mixed with nausea. The open window in our bedroom hit me with a realisation. Eyes swelling with tears I dialled Jamie.

“Christ, Sassenach, I must have forgotten to close the damn window and the cheetie ran away.”

He promised to find him. I spent the evening googling stories of cats running away and cried some more thinking of my poor Adso alone in the cold rain, scared and hungry. I was sure I would not see my cat again. It was around midnight when the front door opened, Jamie’s footfalls startling me from my broken sleep on the couch. I rubbed my puffy eyelids as Jamie stepped inside the room.

His clothes were soaking wet, face painted with tiredness. But the smile on his lips was an encouraging sign. Unfolding his jacket Jamie stroked Adso’s grey ear who was nestled against his chest.

“Jamie! Oh, I can’t believe you did it.” I jumped up, taking Adso into my arms. He was wet and dirty, paws leaving marks on my skin. “Where did you find him?”

Taking off the jacket, Jamie leaned down to receive my kiss on his cheek.

"Here, you must be freezing cold." I reached for the bottle of whisky, pouring him a glass. When he gulped it down and his cheeks turn into baby-pink he told me.

“Ye’d never believe it. I spent hours just driving over the neighbourhood, mistaken at least three cats for him, but he was nowhere. And then I had an idea, it was crazy but possible.” Jamie ran his hands through his damp curls. “I drove to yer old place. And there he was, sitting in front of the door of yer old flat.”

“Oh, my poor baby,” Cradling Adso I reached for the towel I had just in case Jamie managed to bring him home. “Why did you run away, you silly?”

“I’m sorry, Claire. 'Twas my fault, I left the window open.” Jamie patted my thigh gently, looking guilty.

Lening in to kiss him, I traced his cheekbones with my fingers.

“You found him, Jamie. It’s all fine.”

* * *

Jamie woke to the sudden absence of Claire in the bed, her side of the blanket looking like a messy ball at the end of the bed. He could hear the water running in the bathroom. Glancing at the clock that showed three in the morning Jamie called out her name. When no response followed, he swung his legs down the bed, worry caused a cold feeling in his stomach as he walked to the bathroom.

“Sassenach, are ye al-” The words stuck in his throat seeing her small figure, curled on the floor next to the toilet. “Christ, Claire, what happened?” He kneeled down, cradling her head into his lap. His heart was pounding away in his ribcage, fear filling every fiber of his being. She looked pale as a paper sheet, sweaty curls stuck to her skin. Shaking her head weakly, she mumbled as quiet as he ever heard her “I’m okay.” But she was decidedly not okay. Her eyes closed then. Jamie picked her up, rushing to the car outside and mentally thanking all existing Gods that the hospital was just fifteen minutes away. Jamie was there in precisely seven minutes.

#she's back #once i was an eagle #maviemesregles #ann writes #jamie and claire #outlander #outlander fanfic #james fraser #claire beauchamp #modern au #outlander fic

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